A man takes a shortcut home through a graveyard at night.

Whistling loudly to steel himself against the cold fingers of fear, he strides quickly towards his destination.

As his eyes adjust to the dark, he notices an uncovered grave left by a lazy gravedigger. Feeling an uneasy chill, he averts his eyes from the coffin laid inside, missing the spade left by the gravedigger.

Tripping on the spade, he falls into the grave, landing heavily on the coffin. As fear grips his heart, he scrambles to climb from the grave, only to be flung headlong out onto the mound of dirt lying beside the grave. In terror, he turns to see a black coffin, standing vertically by the foot of the grave.

Screaming, he turns and runs at a full sprint in the opposite direction, ignoring the whip of low-lying tree branches on his neck and face. In the midst of his flight of terror, he hears a rhythmic 'THUMP, THUMP' following him. Turning mid stride, he sees the coffins now pursuing him, bounding effortlessly over headstones and leaving deep indentations where it lands.

Squeezing what little power he has left from his legs, he vaults the perimeter wall of the graveyard in a single vault. Glancing behind, he sees the coffin barrel straight through the wall, doing the same to the house gate he hastily bolts behind himself. Reaching the front door of his home, he fumbles for the right key, hands shaking and scratching the wood surrounding the keyhole.

Not bothering to close the door behind him, he sprints headlong up the stairs, thinking this obstacle would be enough to stop his pursuer. With a strangely pensive cadence the coffin moves up the stairs, taking them three at a time.

With the certainty of his demise becoming evident, he rushes to the cabinet in the bathroom at the top of the landing, desperately looking for a weapon to defend himself.

Rummaging blindly, his hand brushes and bumps past bandages, bottles of pills, searching for something as his eyes remained locked on his demise as it reaches the top of the stairs.

Just as his last hope begins to fade, his hand grasps a solid object, a large glass bottle of cough syrup. As the coffin reaches the door of bathroom, he raises his hand and throws the heavy bottle in a last act of defiance, breaking it on the lid of his pursuer.

And just like that, the coffin stops.