It's late at night. The sky is dark, and the moon is hide behind clouds. You were walking through the dark, cold graveyard, among the tombstones. It felt scary and odd. As you kept walking, suddenly a cold hand tapped on your shoulder. Your turned your head and saw a tall guy, with dead red eyes, dark hair and rotten skin standing behind you. His name was Harry, and he had been living in here ever since he was buried:

"You're late."