He had just died.
He remembered the accident quite clearly now. The sudden realization. The desperate twist of the wheel. The inevitability of the impact. The feeling of the pole passing through him.
Slowly he felt his chest, searching for the gaping wound he knew was there.
But he didn't find it.
He was dressed in a crisp clean shirt, not a mark on him.
He sat up, and blinked his eyes a few times. The car was there, fire still flickering dimly inside. He thought he could even make out...
His body. In the driver's seat.
Crispy.
He shouted and lept to his feet, scrambling away desperately. As he did, he ran smack dab into a massive black cloaked figure. He tumbled back a few steps, but maintained his footing.
"Terribly sorry." Came an ancient rumble from the shape. It's voice was earnest and warm, while still emanating a mystical cold into every inch of Aldritch's body. He let his eyes drift up to the figure's face.
It was a skull. Aldritch froze.
Death loomed large before him.
"No." He managed to squeak to the titanic representation before him.
"Yes, I'm afraid." Replied Death with an icy certainty.
"No. No! Not me! Not today!" And he began scrambling away from death. Death made no motions to follow.
"Indeed, today." Death sighed, realizing what was happening.
"No! NO!" Aldritch screamed back, before turning his back and fleeing full tilt down the highway.
Death's bony fingers made their way up to his skull, and rubbed the space between the obsidian pits that once held eyes. He shrugged, and made his way over to the car. His huge frame made no noticeable impact as he sat on its ruined hood, and pulled a newspaper out of his robes. He flipped a few pages in.
"Whenever you're ready, Aldritch." He rumbled quietly, his icy voice carrying on the chill wind down the roadway to the burning ears of the running Aldritch Hedgwin.
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