She came to him during a slick July night; the stars were eyes watching them evolve into something great. He was alone, amidst the company of evening critters when a silhouette emerged into the moon’s lamplight. It was a bizarre moment for Henry, a middle-aged textile worker who was always wary of his human counterparts, which explained his homely abode off the ruined highway, nestled within nature’s womb. The savages of the wood immediately silenced themselves as the figure staggered forth, rustling through the overgrowth. Henry regained his composure and called out to the stranger, but was cut off by its words.

“You are my universal god.” His heart stopped dead at the raspy voice. What the hell? He gulped and scoured for any remains of courage to respond, but found his attempt unappreciated.

“I was looking for someone and I found you. I knew it was you, you are my god. They said look east and I did; now I find you. My god, my god, I n-”

“What are you?” His voice cut through the discord of the stranger’s rambling speech. He steadied himself from the step and stood tall; desperately hoping the stranger would be warded off. However, he was wrong and the thing staggered forth again, stumbling over its limbs and moving awkwardly.

“You are my god. I found you like they said. My universal god, my god, my god…” The chanting fell into mumblings from the stranger’s lips. Henry was scared shitless, and he was a man. He was a six foot, big-boned man. A healthy strapping male, but scared shitless. How is he supposed to be this, this thing’s god when he was frightened by it?

“L-look now, I think you must be wrong. I’m just an ordinary man and you, you are something queer. I suggest you go back from wherever you came from now. Go on.” He supported his last statement with the movement of his arms, like shooing a child away. His mama did that. Apple pie Sundays and raisin crisps after school, when he’d stow himself into the kitchen and she’d catch him, this is how she’d shoo him away. Go child, go— The stranger met his chest with a dull thud and slumped against him, Henry awoke quite abruptly from his reminiscence, shocked and confused more than ever.

“What the Sam hell?”

“My god, my god…” He felt the stranger’s mouth form its chant again and again upon his threadbare cotton shirt. Unsure, Henry put his arms around the frail body, instantly recognizing it was female and most human.

“Are you drunk, m’am?” There was no response, but Henry knew she was intoxicated by her unbalanced footsteps and clumsiness. Now was the moment of decision. Would he keep her? If so, would it affect him? How? When? Why? Wha—

His internalized ramblings were cut off by soft snores, she fell asleep. Against his better judgment, he decided to keep her. Beneath the awning of elm trees and thick clouds of mosquitoes, he carried her into the tin shack he called home.