 All right, pack your bags. It's time to go. The voice behind me was deep and gruff, but still had a smoothness about it. It startled me as I believed I was currently home alone, apart from the elderly old English sheepdog curled up across the room. I knew the voice was coming from directly behind me, maybe only a foot or two away from my ear. I spun around sharply, not entirely sure what to expect once I did. What I found when I turned around, though, was definitely not what I anticipated. Standing behind me, looking directly at me, was what could only be described as the Grim Reaper. His long black flowing robe hung off his body and drifted around in the air. Two skeletal feet poked out from underneath the robe, which was swaying in a manner that looked more like it was floating in water. The bright whiteness of his bones directly contrasted the deep black of his cloth wrapping. I saw that he was also holding, in one hand, his trademark scythe that he was holding with long, bony fingers that wrapped around the handle like vines desperately clinging to a pole. What struck me and definitely frightened me, however, was his face. Well, I say face, but what I really mean is that it was his lack of face that truly disturbed me. Looking directly at me was a hooded skull. No skin or muscle was attached to the skull. Instead, all there was was bone. I knew straight away that he was staring at me. He didn't have any eyes, just empty eye sockets. But I knew that he was somehow looking at me. It took me a second to process what I was staring at and death himself must have realized that I look scared because he acknowledged it in his next sentence. Whoa, you look like a deer in the headlights of a truck that's delivering venison. He said a hint of jovial comfort in his voice. Yeah, you're just not who I was expecting to see. That's all I replied. You know who I am then death asked in a manner that seemed to imply that I shouldn't know who it was, even though all evidence pointed to the fact that he was the reaper. Of course, I responded. You're death. I can't believe that we actually depicted you correctly. You look exactly like I thought you would. Well, I wouldn't say that you depicted me correctly at all. I just manifest myself in this weird get up so that you might recognize me. Not because this is how I really look. I pondered this thought for a moment and decided that it made sense. It would have been a truly remarkable guess to accurately depict death, as it's usually the case that anyone that sees him doesn't survive long enough to draw him. I think you can guess why I'm here. Death said he almost seems sad to be here talking to me, but he also spoke with a calm professionalism that hinted at the fact he'd been in this situation before. I mean, I can guess why you're here. I answered, but why me? And why now? I'm not ready to go. Not many people are, but it would really make my job easier if you just follow me without a fuss. People that make a fuss often find that their ending is a lot messier. Death finished his sentence and then gave me a look that seemed to beg me to just come quietly, as he couldn't be bothered with a messy death today. I don't know exactly how he gave me this look, him being a skeleton and all, but somehow he conveyed this look with just his bone structure. I'll come quietly. I promise death. But first, I have a question or two. Death sighed. Of course you do. What happens if I did refuse to come with you? I asked, secretly hoping that there would be a way to get out of my sticky situation. Ugh, I told you. Death replied, sounding slightly annoyed. It will get messy. You might even end up featured on one of those unsolved mystery crime shows, and I'm sure you don't want that. He was right. I didn't want that. I wanted a peaceful death that didn't leave my beautiful wife and two kids wondering what happened to me. How will I die if I come with you then? I asked, scared of what his response would be. Gas leak. Death replied, rather nonchalantly. Oh, so peaceful then. Of course. I know you're a decent man. Don't want you to have a terrible end. So what happens when I come with you? I mean, what's after this? I asked, death, hoping he'd be able to answer, and hoping that the answer would provide me with some comfort. You'll just have to find out for yourself, won't you? I don't want to spoil anything for you. I know how much people hate spoilers. Why do I have to go? Can I just stay in this world, even as a ghost or something? Well, you see, there is a slight problem in that department. Like your world, the spirit world is facing a similar problem. Overpopulation. The spirit world is full. We went a bit overboard with the whole ghost thing in Victorian times. And now there are no spots left. The old bastards refuse to move on as well. So unfortunately, you have no choice but to move into the next plane of existence. Death said in a manner that seemed like he was fed up with being asked this question. I see. So this is it then. The end of the line for me. I'm just gonna cease to exist. I said to death, knowing full well that this was exactly the case. Yep. Now we really must get going. I'll be late for my next appointment. appointment. So is death not random? It's already booked in. I asked. I always thought that death was a random occurrence and not something that was planned out in advance. But it seemed that death ran on a schedule. It's determined the day you were born. On that day, your name appears in my diary. And that day is set in stone. There's no changing it. That day is the day you die. No ifs or buts about it. So I was always meant to die today. It appears that way. Yes, I know it's a bummer, but you'll get used to it. I couldn't believe that I'd been destined to depart the world on this day. I'd always been meant to die at this very moment. I wish someone had let me know this fairly important piece of information, maybe some sort of reminder on my phone or something. Just something that said, Oh, hey, you're gonna die in a week. But no, it creeps up on you. And before you know it, your day has come. And you're not ready to go. I wasn't packed or anything. Can I ask you one more question? I asked death, desperately hoping that he would allow me to ask this one final inquiry. I saw him lift up one arm, slightly pull back his sleeve to reveal a small wristwatch that sat around his right wrist. He quickly checked the time on his watch, made a quick mental calculation, then answered, go on, but you better make it quick. Death said, with a hint of annoyance in his voice. My wife and kids, when do they die? Do they still live on for a while? You are testing my patience. But okay, I will check for you. Death reached one skeletal hand into the inside of his black tattery robe and pulled out one of the thickest books I'd ever seen. The pages appeared to be endless. And on the front cover, I saw the word diary. Death flicked through the pages, quickly scanning each one, before turning to the next one. It took maybe a minute before he settled on a page. He used one bony finger to quickly find what he was looking for. He soon found it. In his finger stood still. He pointed at one name. Let's see. Your wife. She lives until 93. It says here, passes away surrounded by both kids and her grandchildren. When the word grandchildren exited Death's mouth, I felt an internal struggle between sadness and joy. Sadness presented the case that I wouldn't be alive to ever meet my own grandchildren. Joy rebutted this argument by claiming that I should be pleased I have grandchildren and that my wife would get to enjoy them. In the end, joy won the debate. And I felt a smile come over my face. I'm sorry to be the one that has to do this, but it's time to go now. Death broke the silence that followed after he mentioned my grandchildren. I wasn't ready to go far from it, but I knew that it was my time. I just had one thing I wanted to do first. I motioned towards my dog, who'd somehow slept through this entire ordeal. Death gave me a slight nod, which I took to mean that I had permission to say goodbye. I walked over to the large ball of fluff that I call my dog. I bent down and gave her a slight pat on her head. She stirred awake when I placed my hand on her. She looked up into my eyes. And at that moment, I knew there would be the last pair of eyes that I had ever seen. I looked down into her eyes and began to speak to her. You've been a good girl. Now it's time for me to move on. You look after the family now. They're gonna need you. You make sure you were there for them. Just continue to be a good girl and everything will be all right. Goodbye. I know she couldn't understand me, her being a dog and all. But it felt good to say goodbye to someone. I gave her one final pat on the head, then a slight scratch under her chin. She's always like that. I stood up, walked back over to death, who was slightly leaning on his side. I told him that I was ready to go. But I asked him for one final favor. Can I leave a note for my wife? Can I leave it with you and you deliver it to her when you visit her? Oh, go on then. I'm already running late, so another minute or two won't hurt. I guess Mr. Sturth will get to enjoy an extra few minutes of life. Death reached into his robe once more, this time producing a small piece of paper and a pen. I took it off of them and began to write. Once I'd finished writing, I handed the pen and the note back to death, who quickly stuffed it back into his robe. He extended one hand towards me and motioned with his head for me to grab ahold of it. I reached out and grabbed onto his hand. It was hard, but also because of the bone kind of jagged. I squeezed tight onto his hand. He slightly squeezed mine. I felt the strength of his grip and the firmness of his bones. I could tell that he was definitely someone that drank his milk. I looked up at death, who was staring forwards. It was time to go. I wasn't entirely ready to go, but nevertheless, it was still time. In front of me, I saw a small light. In unison, me and death took a step towards it. Then another. With each step, the light grew bigger and encompassed more of my vision. Soon, all I could see was this bright light, and all I could do now was continue to walk into it. I didn't want to walk into it, but I felt drawn to it, compelled by it, like a moth who was afraid of light. It scared me, but I had no choice but to go towards it. The last thought that entered my head before stepping through into the light was the letter that I was leaving for my wife. I read the entire letter in my mind before taking the final step. It's been a while. I hope you've had a long and fulfilling life filled with laughter and joy and beautiful memories. Grandchildren, hey, how amazing is that? I bet they're cute and I bet they love their grandma. I wish to see you again. And once you read this note, I guess I will see you soon after. Don't be afraid. Death is a nice guy. He will help guide you to me. I love you. And trust me, I didn't want to leave you. P.S. Tell Death I Say Hello.