The Grim Reaper himself stood outside the Quik-Stop Motel in Richmond, Virginia.
He wore his earthly disguise, of course, as this kill required stealth. Charlie Simms had been cheating death for far too long. It was time for him to join the underworld.
The Reaper stood brooding against the chilly autumn air as he watched. Waited. Not making a sound. From his pocket he retrieved a small stick, about the size of a police baton and took soft steps toward the motel building.
He walked up to the manager and asked for a room. "You look like you're not from here," said the manager, handing him his room key. The man simply smiled and took the key without saying another word.
He walked upstairs and found his room: Room 4. He inserted the key into the lock and twisted, feeling the sticky lock mechanism tumble and unlock. The room was dark and smelled of death. He loved it. The Reaper didn't even bother turning the light on, or even leaving the room. He simply phased right through the wall into Room 3. He found his victim there, sleeping.
The Reaper stood over the slumbering body and unclipped his stick, now unlocking into a large scythe. "Now I've got you, Charlie!" exclaimed The Reaper, waking the man up. He took one last look at the victim's face as his eyes flew open, and he brought the scythe down into his neck, killing the poor man.
"There is no choice. I'm just so tired," said the man, preparing to sleep in this motel for the night. He didn't know what would eventually happen to him, he just parked his car into the lot and opened the door. The chilly autumn air rushed at his face, waking him from his daydream.
Tomorrow he would propose to his girlfriend Amy, and they were going to be happy together. He stepped out and closed the door of his Camry, pressing the lock button on his key so it locked behind him.
He heard the car chirp and stuffed the key into his jacket. He walked up to the motel manager.
"Breezy night, huh?" he said to the manager.
"Cold ass night is more like it," he said, "Room 3; upstairs and to your right."
He walked upstairs and into his room, flicking on the light. It smelled weird here, he thought. He set his bag down, changed, brushed his teeth and went to bed.
At around 3:00 AM he awoke, but he was too tired to open his eyes, trying to force himself to sleep. The room smelled even worse now, but it might have been his imagination. He heard someone speak and a weapon unsheathe, and he couldn't believe his ears. His eyes flew open as a large metallic object flew into his neck.
He felt the burning sensation first, then the pain.
His mouth was filling with blood as he lay there, gurgling. He struggled to see his attacker's face, but saw only darkness. "I've finally found you, Charlie..." said the attacker. As the man drew his last breath, one terrifying thought burned is his mind as he died:
My name isn't Charlie...
...Not even close.