Your God

You're a guy.

You're a young man, living a quiet, peaceful life. Nothing special—you dream of love and, perhaps, wealth, like most people. But one day at work, you've caught the eye of two people: a guy and a girl. You weren't sure which one to choose—both were perfect for your tastes.

And then one day you took the plunge. You asked the girl out on a date. Beforehand, you prayed to your imaginary god, the one you'd always imagined.

A completely black silhouette, as if woven from the very darkness swaying around him. About two meters tall. His eyes were narrow, like those of a Japanese, white, but with black pupils. His hair was disheveled, blending with his body, as if it were also part of this darkness.

In your imagination, he was always smiling, and that meant he was happy. But if he wasn't smiling, it meant he was angry. His wide, snow-white smile always stood out especially brightly.

That very day had arrived. It was slowly starting to get dark. You set off on a date and, to take a shortcut, turned down deserted side streets, buried in your phone.

At first, you didn't notice how the sky had grown too dark, and the alleys seemed completely immersed in darkness. You looked up to see if the moon had risen yet. But the sky was empty, as if shrouded in thick fog.

Suddenly there was a sharp rustling sound. You turned around. There he was, standing against the wall—your personal god. The wall behind him was covered in blood. He wasn't smiling. Which meant he was extremely displeased.