Melly Marvel sometimes felt alone, but at least she could just turn on a light. She didn't have to invent it all from scratch.
Melly Marvel didn't really like thinking about God, even though she did it quite a lot these days. She'd much rather think about the man in the ruffled blouse and velvet coat who she knew absolutely with total conviction was waiting outside her window, plotting to slide his broadsword through the open window and slice off her hands while she slept. Melly Marvel preferred to think about him because he seemed the more present threat, but she didn't think about him as much as she thought about God.
You see, she knew the man in the ruffled blouse was going to be ok. He had friends. Presumably an entire regiment of musketeers. God she wasn't so sure about. God was all alone up there, his only company a ghost and his dead son.
And they didn't sound like particularly fun crowd to run with.
And so Melly Marvel imagined God probably went into his room and shut the door- just like she did- and pretended he was someone else, someone better, A Star.
Melly Marvel would have liked to pretend with God. She fancied he was fun. And she worried he was lonely.
When her Sunday School teacher told her to close her eyes and imagine God before the creation of the world, Melly Marvel wanted to cry.
Instead of crying, she raised her hand when the teacher asked if anyone wanted to become a Christian.
She did this not because she believed in Christ or the resurrection or the Gospels, but because she did not want God- the God of the Old Testament, the God of Genesis 1:1, the god at the edge of the beginning of all the world- to be alone.