Yanmat’s final Haunting examination coming up but the little demon is struggling. Where the rest of his demonic peers send their subjects into crippling depression or turn them insane, Yanmat has been given the only human seemingly dumb enough to be oblivious to the strange occurrences around him.

The scene has been set. Write a story based on it.

You open your front door to find a towering, black robed figure peering down at you, scythe in one bone hand, clipboard and ballpoint pen in the other. It looks at the clipboard, at you, then back at the clipboard and back to you again.

‘Didn’t I come for you last week?’ the Grim Reaper says.

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Sometimes being immortal sucks, such as this time when you’ve been buried alive for who knows how long. You’ve scratched your way out of your casket and can see the light filtering through the last bit of mud. As your mangled hand breaks free into the open air, you gasp as someone takes hold of it.

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