### Instruction:
Write a story about a dark and scary night.

### Response:
The night was unyieldingly dark and the winds bitingly cold. Suddenly I heard the sound of drums. The rhythm was eerie and struck incomprehensible fear into my heart. I stopped crying and looked up at the casket. I froze, why was there noise coming from there? I looked around at all the others but no one noticed any sound coming from the coffin. I pushed through people to get closer and assure myself I wasn’t imagining any noise. The closer I walked the louder the noise got.
                    I wanted to do something. They could have been alive! More and more people finish saying their goodbyes. Soon they would lower the coffin. Without a second thought, I jolt out of the crowd and I stand right next to the casket, I now feel everyone's eyes staring at me. It was too late to turn back, either I get embarrassed for life or I save someone from getting buried alive. I reach for the casket but suddenly I see someone appear right on the top of it.
                     “Hello” uttered the strange person. The voice sounded as if nails on the chalkboard could speak. I take a step back and take a good look at her. They seem to be floating a tiny bit off of the casket like a…. 
                     “GHOST!!!!” I screamed. I clasp my hands around my mouth. I start running with my head down, I don’t want to see everyone's reactions. It’s so hard to see in the dark but I just keep on running. I trip over a stick that was laying in the middle of the path. I’m glad I’m far enough from the funeral now that no one could see me fall. 
                   I look up just to see the ghost barely one foot away from me with a grin on her face. Have they been following me this whole time? I rub my eyes hoping they wouldn’t be there anymore once I open them again. 
                  “Did you like my drum solo?” questioned the ghost. I looked at her hands to see she had drumsticks in her hand. 
                    “No way,” I responded. I didn’t know much about the girl whose funeral it was but one thing I knew was that she loved to drum and that her name was Callie.
                     “Is your name Callie?” I asked
               “Bingo,” she replied. We sit in silence for a moment.
                                   “Sucks having to watch your own funeral” She brings up to stop the silence. I chuckle uncomfortably, that's not something I could relate to. 
                     “Why can I see you?” I burst out of curiosity. 
               “It’s kind of like that one wedding tradition where they toss the flower bouquet out into the crowd and whoever catches it gets married next. Except if you see a ghost at a funeral it means you are next to die.” She shrugs. 
                        “Oh,” I say, processing what she just said. Then it hits me. Literally. A tree hits me and it was fatal.