A fitting ending for an awful day, I thought, and I couldn't have been more wrong. It was just the beginning.

It was a few minutes past midnight when I closed the store and headed home. We were the only ones on the street, as far as I could see, he was walking in my direction with his hands jammed in the pockets of his sweatshirt, with the hood casting a shadow over his face. Now, for anyone else, that probably would've been a pretty good warning to turn around, cross the street or even straight up run, especially for me. But that day hadn't been a good one, I had a stupid fight with Asha and didn't sleep well, so my sense of danger wasn't very stable—if working at all—and I just kept walking to his encounter.

He bumped into me when we crossed paths, and the sidewalk was large enough for me to know that was on purpose.

"Watch where you're going, retard," he said, angrily.

He kept walking and I thought that was the end of it, I wanted to avoid any problems, so I did too. But if life taught me anything in these twenty three years, was that nothing is ever that easy. I stopped and started to check my pockets. He stole from me.

I looked back at him and he was glancing at me. He started to run, and I instinctively ran after him. I knew that if he had a weapon he would've pulled out already, and I was pretty sure I could beat him in a fight, his body frame was quite average, and I was no stranger to fighting, even though it had been a while since I last properly exercised, my body hadn't completely lost its shape from back then.

I caught up to him and grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt, he turned to me, almost falling, and punched me in the stomach, I winced but quickly hit him on the face. He fell, but hastly got up and ran away again, wobbling.

Then it happened. I tried to run after him once more but didn't manage even ten steps. I felt weird, and there was something hot and wet on my stomach, so I looked down to see my shirt was drenched in red, confusion overcame me for a few seconds before I realized what had happened.

The bastard stabbed me, how didn't I notice? I didn't even see him holding a knife.

It didn’t feel like what I thought being stabbed would be, not at first. The knife went through me like I was butter, effortlessly to the point that I'm not even sure if he only stabbed me once. I could only feel my stomach starting to get very hot, painfully so.

Before I fell, I managed to reach the bench near me. My options for surviving were very limited, there were no means to call for help and I certainly couldn’t walk to find any either, seeing how I barely managed to reach the bench a few meters away from me. And even if I had the strength, with how much blood I was losing sitting, I wouldn't get far walking. I could try screaming but that sounded as pointless as trying to walk. There weren't any houses nearby, not habited ones at least, and even if someone heard me, they would know better than to answer a random scream for help. My only choice was to wait for someone to walk by, and unfortunately for me, due to how dangerous the area was, movement wasn’t that good around here, even with daylight. The chances of someone taking a walk at that time of the night were low at best.

I noticed the fervor was becoming more bearable, but sure enough, I was still painting the bench red.

I guess this is it, uh? It felt strange, accepting it so easily.

I noticed a dog approaching me, he sat beside me on the bench. It looked like a weird mixture of breeds I couldn't quite place. They say dogs can feel when you're happy or sad, maybe that was it, saw me dying and figured he'd keep me company.

I started to pet him and noted that the dog was too clean to be a stray, not that I minded if he was, dogs were my only friends when I was homeless. I would've liked to bring each one of them back home with me, but I could barely support myself and Asha.

Asha, I thought. Yes, I have to go back home.

I gathered the little strenght left in me and tried to stand up, only to feel my arms and legs failing to obey me properly. I hit the ground face foward, hard, bringing with the pain a short yet violent coughing fit.

For a minute I just laid there, in agonizing pain, unable to even properly control my breathing.

Ah man, this sucks, I thought, while tears started to roll slowly down my face. What a pathetic way to die.

As the warm feeling faded, I started to feel ever so cold, and the pain grew sharper, like a part of the knife remained inside me. I could feel the taste of iron in my mouth, now, reminding me I was still bleeding, that my time was short.

Crying won't solve anything, it never did, you can't die, Michael, not over such a petty reason, not from a simple stab on the stomach, not yet. Asha needs you.

I slowly tried to get up, hands on the ground, rising my arms, then knees...but my body gave out and I tumbled to the ground again.

"Stop it, Michael, you will not make it," said a voice

I lazily rolled sideways so I could face up, startled and hopeful, but realizing there was no one there besides me and the dog, that was now sitting by my side.

I usually would notice someone approaching me, one of the perks of surviving the streets, I guess, which made the situation all the more eerie, but my instincts weren’t that good at the moment, given the circumstances. Maybe I was hallucinating, probably a symptom of blood loss.

"Was it you, boy?" I said, looking at the dog.

"Yes and no," he said. "Unfortunately this body does not reproduce sound necessary for human communication very well, so take it as if I am speaking directly into your mind"

The realization of what was happening, that a dog was talking to me, was less startling than stories portrayed it to be, but I could see how it became popular as a comedy genre. The fact that I was dying probably took some part in dulling my sense of extraordinary.

"I...see," I said.

"Do you hate god?" he asked, turning his head in my direction.

I chuckled, coughing more blood. "God , uh? Yeah, why? Are you God?" I said.

"In a way, compared to you. Why do you hate god?"

"Because you do a very shitty job at taking care of your 'children'," I said, wheezing.

"Would you like to be a god, then, Michael?"

I tensed with the growing pain, trying not to shift my body too much,

"What do you even mean by 'God'?" I asked the dog, noticing he had a collar with a tag and name on it.

'Slayer', heh.

"Exactly what it sounds, mostly." he said. "You would be the ruler of all living things in the universe, not directly, for the most part, as you know the universe is quite big. But you would have an influence in all lives, in a way."

"Hm," I mumbled, choosing to ignore the absurdity of it all. "And you would just give that power to me?"

"That is not important, for now. My question is simply if you would like to be it."

I deliberately thought about it—all things considered—assuming this was all real. Would I like to be God? The thought of my mother came to me, of my life on the street, of my young sister, how it was a good thing that her parents were not in her life anymore. If there was a god, he shouldn't be so cruel.

"So? As you know, you do not exactly have much time left, and even though I am making your body last longer, I can not revert death," he said, with no impatience to his voice, calm and soothing only, yet imposing.

"I...don't want to be God, it sounds too big of a responsibility for someone like me, I’d probably fuck it up, like everything else," I said, weakly.

"I understand, a pity, you sounded like be a promising candidate."

Candidate? What even was this conversation? It really was an awful day. He stayed with me for a few seconds as the pool of blood that formed under me slowly traced though the shallow cracks of the sidewalk, and the light above me flickered with longer intervals of darkness than light.

"I have to go now, Michael." he said. "Was that truly your final answer?"

"Yeah," I said, sad on how my answer felt right, "just...make sure the one you choose will be worthy of all that power."

"Oh? And what would be someone 'worthy' in your opinion?"

That, I can answer, I thought.

"Someone who truly values life."

Sometimes people wondered if dogs smiled or if it was just humans seeing what they wanted in their furry friends, I don't know the answer to that, but that dog's eyes were definitely smiling.

"Well then, why do you not choose it yourself?"

I started to feel heavily sleepy, it was becoming harder and harder to maintain my eyes open, "Am...I...?" I said, barely audible,

"I am giving you the choice," he said.

"Choice...?"

"Yes, Michael, I am giving your the opportunity to choose your god. Do not waste it."

Before I could manage any last questions using the minimum energy still left in my body, the dog started to lick my hand and bark.

He's gone, I thought, letting my eyes close."