Horror in a Flash - a collection of prompt based live-writting

Prompt: Cemetery

Ever wonder if a horror story can be created out of the prompt "The Fillpino revolt against Espana and how the US used that to gain a strategic foothold in the south China sea?"

This is a collection of flash fiction written on the fly. I asked for prompts and then wrote each piece right then, taking between 15 minutes to an hour. Some came out okay and some not so much.

Prompt:

Cemetery

George always loved coming to the cemetery at night. He’d sit among the graves and have a meal of apples and a thermos full of wine. Then he’d toss the cores high over his head, trying to see if he could make them land of the tops of tombstones. Then he’d wander around, looking for the familiar names of his friends.

There was Stacy Albright, the young school teacher who died in 1994. He remembered her smile and the way she flicked her hair when she was nervous. And Frank Masters, the bowling champ twelve years running. George laughed to himself as he thought about the silly little toupee Frank kept plastered on his head.

And who could forget Pauline Greene, the woman of his dreams? She smelled like summer and when she ran, her long black hair flowed through the air like silk. He almost regretted killing her, but then what would the point of her had been if he had let her live? Beauty only mattered if it was forever immortalized in the amber of fear and death.

Whenever George saw someone special, someone who made the world a better place, he made sure their light would never dim. The only way to do that was to make sure they were locked in time, their emotions and thoughts frozen to one moment, one place, where their spirits would be safe from the corrupting influences of the world.

Death wasn’t enough to stamp their souls into the world. The only thing strong enough to squeeze the light from their bodies was fear. Cold, harsh fear, the kind that the world had too much of. But sometimes fire had to be fought with fire and the only true way to lock light in the world was to pull it free with fear.

George felt bad about hurting the very people who would save the world, but he knew they understood and would welcome him with open arms when he too, finally left the world. He smiled and walked over to one of the gravestones, where a young man sat waiting, tied to the stone so he couldn’t get away.

Another bit of light was about to be squeezed free.

The End.