A Timely Fate

"This can't really be happening...can it?" Thomas slowly paced around the room, surprisingly not eventually wearing the flooring out. "No one can decide something like that for me. So it can't be true..." Thomas began hyperventilating, trying to clear his head of the dark thoughts that plagued him.

"Is the date correct?" Tom immediately sprinted to his computer, staring at the date posted on his desktop.
"May 11th, 1998; 7:34 pm."

Tom couldn't stop staring at the date and time, much less forget what was written on the note in his hand. "That's the current time... and it's the correct date... then the time on this note will be here in less than five hours." He gripped the note, almost tearing it in his vise-like fist. "But how can a person decide someone's time of death? It's impossible! It can't happen!"

His head rang with the sound of the man's voice; the man who gave him the note. "Who was that geezer? What a creepy old guy..." Tom could still remember every detail of the old man... "I can still hear him... I can still hear his voice... exactly what he said..."

The clock struck eight...

Tom couldn't think straight. He didn't know whether to believe what was happening or not. "Dammit... I'm starting to lose it. I just need to think for a minute..." Tom started to brew a pot of coffee, his hands shaking. "That man... who was he?" Tom wondered.
A flashback started to play out in his mind...


"Someone's at the door..." Tom said to himself, somewhat frustrated.

He opened the door to see an elderly man on his step. He was Caucasian, looked like he was in his late 60's. He was also very fit for his age. He was dressed in a formal black suit, which was in good condition other than the tears on the back.

"Thomas R. Gellar..." the man said firmly.

"That's me. Did you need something?"

"Nothing special really. I'm just here to deliver something."

"I-I wasn't expecting any delivery..."

"Oh, I'm sure you weren't. No one does, really..."


Tom started to feel uneasy, probably because of the somewhat awkward conversation that was taking place.


"Erm...yeah... Anyway, what package are you supposed to deliver?" Tom said with an uneasy stomach.

"Oh yes, the package. Here it is."

The old man handed Tom a small piece of paper, folded over about four times.

"A...piece of paper?" Tom questioned.

"It's more than that, I assure you. You see, I rarely do these kinds of things. Most of the time, I keep the information in these notes confidential, in order to see people's true colors...the people they really are. You, however, have been given a rare opportunity to decide what will become of your...inner being."

Tom paused, shocked at what the man was saying. Was he out of his mind?
He played along with the conversation, just for the hell of it.

"My...inner being?" Tom blandly asked.

"Yes, but you will find out what I mean. When I leave this doorstep, go inside, then open the note. I'm sure you will be surprised at what you find." the man said in a somewhat dark voice.

"Al--alright..."

The old man started to walk back up the sidewalk.

"W-wait!" Tom shouted to the man.
"Before you go... who are you?"

"Me? You can call me...Lucifer." The old man said, in a completely different tone than before.



"Lucifer... that was his name..." Tom returned his mind to the present, trying to piece this puzzle together. "I...I still have that damned note..." He painfully stared at the note again...

Thomas R. Gellar
Age: 36
Time of Death: May 12, 1998; 12:00 am


The clock struck nine...


Tom couldn't bear the thought of his death anymore. He desperately attempted to clear his mind. "This has to be some kind of prank...it has to be! I mean, what else could it be? No man can tell someone else when they are going to kick the bucket..." He went to grab a cup of his freshly-brewed coffee.

"Now that I think about it... there was something about that old guy that was just downright eerie..."

Tom paused as he took a sip from his coffee.

"Oh God... now I know... his voice..." Tom stuttered. He was right. There was something beyond eerie about that man's voice. It never stayed the same. It always changed sentence after sentence. He even sounded exactly like Tom for a sentence.

"No one can change their voice that much...not even an impersonator. But there was something else..."

Tom immediately froze in fear. He dropped his coffee cup, which shattered into pieces on the ground before him. He remembered what scared him the most, what was impossible, yet was right in front of him when he was talking to the old man.

"His...his eyes. They always changed colors... But that's not possible...is it?" Tom couldn't move, as if his legs were encased in solid ice. "I can still see them...those eyes...THOSE DAMN EYES! I felt like someone was stabbing my gut when that guy looked me in the eye..."

The old man's eyes always changed color. They started off as brown, then changed to blue after a couple sentences, then they changed to green. "But I swear, when that guy looked back at me after I asked for his name...they were pulsating...gold...and red..."


The clock struck ten...

"This is ridiculous. None of this is possible. I mean, they can make this stuff happen in movies and on TV! I could be a victim of a prank! Maybe I'm being Punk'd!"

Suddenly, a knock came at the door. "Oh great, who knocks on someone's door at 10 pm?" Tom threw the door open, only to see what he feared most. The old man had returned, but his appearance had changed dramatically. His eyes now gleamed blood red, and his teeth were as sharp as daggers.

"I see you are having trouble deciding what to believe." Lucifer stated.

"Wh--what the hell are you, old man?" Tom stuttered, painfully trying to piece a sentence together.

"You now have less than two hours to make your decision. I'd make up my mind if I were you."

"I don't want your damn opinion. Now answer my question! WHAT ARE YOU?"

"Oh, I'm sure you know already, Thomas..."

"Wha...?"

"I am Lucifer. The first fallen angel, now before you in the flesh." Lucifer boldly stated, his voice now incredibly deep and demonic.

Tom felt horror like never before. He was talking to the devil, face to face. He could feel the icy evil run through his veins, almost feeling like it would pierce his very soul. Lucifer's voice alone sent a chill to his core, immobilizing him.

"Now do you believe my words? I am not here to take your soul personally. I only stand before you as a messenger of your fate. The decision is yours to make. Heaven or Hell? You should hurry, you don't have a lot of time left."

Lucifer started to fade away, leaving Tom on his doorstep, talking to his own shadow. "Why me...WHY ME?!" Tom screamed at the top of his lungs.


The clock struck eleven...


All traces of sanity in Tom's mind had left. He was in a state of shock and fear, confused and terrified. How else should someone react to something like this? The devil himself, walking to your door, giving you your own personal expiration date?

"What will happen to me?" Tom questioned himself.
"Maybe...maybe my house will burn down, and I'll die in the fire! Maybe someone will break in and shoot me!" The thoughts that clouded Tom's head were dark and disturbing. He began making an imaginary list of the ways he could die.

"I know! I have to leave! He can't find me if he doesn't know where I am! It's perfect!" Tom felt somewhat accomplished for thinking of this. He raced to grab his keys, and bolted out the front door. He threw the door to his car wide open and thrust his keys in the ignition.

Tom had driven for about 30 minutes, about to hit the city limits. He could only stare into his car's clock. "11:58 pm"
"This is it. This is as far as I can get. Now we'll see..." He nervously counted down the last couple of seconds before the clock hit midnight.

3...

2...

1...


The clock struck midnight...

Tom opened his eyes to see he was still driving. The clock had just hit 12:00 am, and he hadn't died.

"Haha! I did it! I PERSONALLY CHEATED DEA-----"



Tom was interrupted by a semi-truck slamming into the driver's-side door of his car at 80 mph...

Debris was everywhere. Tom had died instantly from the collision. His car clock was still working. It read "12:01 am"...


Shortly after the crash, paramedics and police arrived at the scene. They were somewhat puzzled at what exactly happened.

"So what do we got?" a paramedic asked a police officer.

"The driver of the car is long dead, his body was crushed from the impact. We were able to find this in his hand, though." the officer replied.

"A note? Did you read it?"

"Yeah, it's got the guy's name, his age, and then this date. May 12, 1998; 12:00 am."

"That was a couple minutes ago..."

"I'll keep the note as evidence."

"What about the driver of the semi?"

"That's what creeped me out... there was no body."

"Maybe he fled the scene?"

"Not possible. The impact sent the dashboard of the truck to the backseat. He would have been pinned and dead from the crash. We had to use the prying scissors to peel back that metal."

"Did you find anything from the truck?"

"Yeah, we did. It's a man's black suit, but it's torn into pieces."