Appointment with the Grim Reaper for Grim Reaper Contest
Sam Adams had retired from decades of service with the US Government all over the world. One morning, he received a mysterious message.,
“Your appointment for final status determination (FSD) Is confirmed for 2 am-midnight Saturday. A driver will come for you. Be prepared. Tell no one
This appointment is high Q-level classified,
Mr. GR, aka the Grim Reaper.”
All week he wondered about this note. He responded to it, his email bounced back undeliverable, address unknown. He thought it was some prank or a weird phishing scheme or something and did a virus check. He thought about telling his wife but decided not to as it was just some sort of weird internet joke.
On Saturday night, Sam Adams fell asleep about 1 am.
There was a knock at the door. It was the courier. The courier was dressed In a black uniform, but did not look entirely human. He had a blank face, no mouth, no eyes, no eyes, no hair, and horns on his head. A voice in his head said,
“I am your driver today. After your hearing, I will drive you, either to Hell, heaven, or back here if you are given a reprieve of your FSD. It is time to go. Time to meet your fate. This is your judgment date.”
“Can I say goodbye?”
“No, it does not work that way”
He tried to ask questions, the demon responded in his head,
“I am not authorized to answer any questions. Just relax. We’ll be there soon enough.”
They drove off in his black SUV. They soon entered a dark. forbidding forest,
They parked and walked to a large black tent. A demon attendant barked,
Name and DOB
“Sam Adams, 10-30-1955”
Mr. Sam, you have an appointment with Mr. GR. Proceed to door number two for your FSD. Good luck. Next.”
He found himself in a huge hallway filled with ghostly images, and he realized, looking at himself that he too appeared to be a ghost. Signs everywhere in multiple languages stated,
Today is the date you meet your fate. No talking, No smoking. No eating, no drinking. Relax, Your time will come soon. Until then, wait for your number and prepare to defend your life. “
He yells out,
“Am I dead?”
laughter echoes down the infinite hallways of the office building.
He entered the room, Mr. GR was dressed in black, wearing cool Ray-ban glasses
looked up from his computer, The grim reaper said in a gravelly voice.
“Welcome to Limbo, my friend. We normally do not talk to humans. We just do our duty. We are sort of bounty hunters. We bring the dead here. You are in limbo. No longer dead, no longer alive either. Sort of in-between.”
“Am I a ghost?”
“Perhaps If it helps you cope with things, then yes and no. Oh, this just came in you can go back for a few years, put your affairs in order. You may publish this conversation, we have a lot to tell you, humans. I can answer a few questions.
“Is there a God?”
“More like multiple Gods and multiple universes”
“Is the universe alive?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Is there a devil?”
Multiple Gods, multiple devils too.”
“Is heaven real?”
“Is hell real?”
“Are our religions correct?”
“Do we get anything right?”
No, you can’t understand, but here’s the deal, enough of that. We have a message to the world. Your time is up. It is up to you. You have a choice. Go forward together, with love and compassion, or give into death, despair, or hate, And the thirst for profits over humanity.
If you embrace the light, you might survive. The betting in the underground casinos is that humanity will not survive in the coming decades. Just another failed civilization, in a universe littered with them. You all might die, Good for me, Bad for you. Full employment for my armies for the years to come.
The bottom line is that you have been given a reprieve from Hell, for five years. And permission to publish our conversation and convince your fellow creatures to wake up and save your planet. I doubt anyone will believe you but you have been given a chance to change the world.
Your next FSD will be final, probably Hell but maybe Heaven, but the betting in the casinos is you are headed to hell, my friend. But that decision is beyond my pay grade”
"You may go back home. My driver will drive you, go!"
The driver took him home and asked him for a hundred US dollars as a tip, so he could hit the underground late-hours bars, before he had to return at sunrise. Sam gave him 100 dollars, and the driver drove off like the proverbial bat out of hell.
He went to bed and woke up convinced It was all a dream.
Later that day, a letter arrived.
An appointment with GR for final status determination has been confirmed for five years from today’s date, we advise you to get your affairs in order. There is no appeal from the final FSD, and as discussed, you may publish our conversation. Lots of luck.”
He wrote it all down, drank morning coffee, smiled at his wife, told her all about it
He posted it all on social media. No one took it seriously, of course. Sam Adams became an environmental activist but was often dismissed as a nut case because of his widely mocked letter from the Grim Reaper. The environment continued to deteriorate and nothing was done when the midnight knock came again five years later.