Death-Day

When I was first asked about the day I would die, I thought that the strange man asking me was a straight looney. Well, he was actually, but he was also really inspiring.

He said, “If you could choose the date and time of your death, would you?”

I told him that the thought of knowing when you would die would likely drive you to madness, and that nothing would ever make me decide to do that. He shrugged his shoulder’s and gave me his card.

“Well, if you ever find a time when you are ready to decide, give me a call.”

Flash forward five years, my life is in a rut, and everyone I thought loved me had abandoned me. I didn’t think I could live for much longer in my current state. I started packing up my things and leaving notes around my apartment so that those who were once close to me could find them. While I was organizing some things, I found an old business card I’d tucked away.

Dave Spenellio

D-Day Specialist

1368 S Watchtower DR. Kennysville, KY

(343) 673-3284

I never thought my life would come to the point to where I could have the option to choose between dying and death. Dave knew the difference. I dialed his number, which gratefully still worked.

“Hello, Dave speaking.”

“Dave, you probably don’t remember me, but we met a few years ago and discussed the option of choosing the date and time of your own death. I was wondering if I could maybe set that up with you?”

“Ah, so you’ve decided that it’s time to know when you’re going to die? Perfect. Well, when are you thinking?”

“As soon as possible. When are you available?”

“Well…it’s not about my availability, but our first opening is next Wednesday around noon. Where are you located now?”

“I’m in New York. I could do next Wednesday.”

“Alright. Consider it done. We’ll talk later this week about logistics. But at noon next Wednesday, just take a nice walk through Central Park. We’ll find you,” he said.

I hung up the phone. It was a strange feeling knowing I was going to die. However, it also felt very freeing, knowing that in a week’s time, I’d be free. It was almost enlightening.

A few days passed. Dave and I have been discussing how he’d get paid after all was said and done, and as such I sent him a $1,000 non-refundable “service fee”. I didn’t have much money left and spent the next few days eating instant ramen and string cheese. Before I knew it, Tuesday evening had come and the countdown to D-Day was in full-effect. I was perusing my email one last time, when I got an urgent message in my inbox:

Dear beloved one in the Lord “MrSparkles4980@hotmail.com”

I am contacting you after my fasting and prayer to my good God to give me an honest man or woman that will handle this Assignment. You were revealed to me by God and it is my desire of going into relationship with you. I am Mrs. Anna Babayeve I am a Gold Farmer and diamond dealer. I am a merchant of Russia nationality but presently residing in Australia, I have been diagnosed with Esophageal cancer and only have a day to live. I am currently admitted in a private hospital, and I have some funds I inherited from my late loving husband Mr. John Steel Babayeve, the sum of $10,500,000 US which he deposited in WEZESHA TRUST BANK  EAST KENYA, and I need a very honest and Lord fearing Christian that can use these funds for The Lord’s work and 20% out of the total funds will be for your compensation for doing this work of The Lord. I found your email address from the internet and decide to contact you. Please if you would be able to use these funds for the Lord's work kindly reply me with your bank account and routing number. Thank you and May The Lord bless you.

Your Sister In The Lord,

Anna

I brushed it off as I usually do with scam emails, besides I was in no way a good Christian fellow seeking to do “The Lord’s work”. I mean, I had just paid a man to kill me the following afternoon. I kept scrolling and mindlessly staring at my computer, when an interesting thought crossed my mind. I went back to the email and responded.

Anna,

I will send you my account information, save it be that The Good Lord takes my life tomorrow, I will proceed with the Assignment with the funds you provide.

Your Lost Lordly Brother,

Scott

I chuckled to myself, added my account information, and hit send. Tomorrow was the day I would die, and if someone needed to steal the last $3,252.49 I had, then so be it. I placed all of my family notes around asking them not to mourn the death of me and to move forward with their lives. Then, I quietly retired to my bed and fell soundly asleep.

The next morning, I arrived at Central Park at 11:00 am. It was a truly beautiful day and since it was my last, I appreciated it that much more. You never really truly appreciate the world around you until you’re close to leaving it. I walked around the park, looking for any sign of Dave or his “hitman”, but to no avail. At 11:33, I got a notification on my phone.

A deposit? I opened my Wells Bargo app and nearly dropped my phone. My account now had $10,503,252.49. Anna had made a deposit of 10.5 million dollars into my account with the memo: “May the Lord Be With You.” I was stunned. I was sure I was dreaming. There was no way that this lady was real. I’ve received hundreds of spam emails, asking for the same information, but I wouldn’t have dared sent anyone my bank account information before yesterday.

I sat on a bench and just stared into the sky. I was a multi-millionaire, and now I didn’t know what I was going to do what such a responsibility. Then, my phone vibrated again. It was an unknown number and all it said was, “We’re here.”

I nearly swore my way to France, when I suddenly realized it was 11:50 am and I was scheduled to die in 10 minutes. Not to mention, I was in the middle of Central Park. I texted back, “Take your $1,000, I’m out.”

To which they responded, “Too late, cancellation has to be at the latest 12 hours before D-Day time.”

I had ten minutes to run faster and longer than I ever had in my entire life. I picked what I thought was the shortest way out, pulled up my hoodie, and ran for my life, literally.

I ran until I could taste blood in my mouth and my lungs burned. I didn’t have time to look at how long it had been, how much longer I had. I made it to the edge of Central Park, but didn’t stop. I ran through traffic, down alleyways, and back toward my nicely organized and packed apartment. I passed out once I got inside.

The next thing I remember, is my phone vibrating in my pocket. Dazed and disoriented, I sat up, my vision still returning. I pulled out my phone.

“If you ever change your mind, give us a call. -Dave.”

I blocked his number, laid down on my bed, then called my mom to apologize and tell her I loved her.