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Story Starter #51: He heard their footsteps and their raucous voices as they left the graveyard. The thin beams of their flashlights bobbing up and down as they walked, growing distant. He sat cross-legged on the hard, packed earth near a tombstone so old the ground had begun to reclaim it. The date of death about 300 years earlier.
He shivered and wrapped the single blanket they left him around his shoulders. It’s just for one night, he told himself. I just have to stay here until dawn. His parents thought he was at a sleepover. He chuckled to himself.
Something startled him to his left. His heart dropped into his stomach. He reached for the flashlight, flicked it one, and pointed it in the direction he heard the noise. The only thing he saw was an owl, hooting at him from a hovering tree branch, and a fresh headstone. So fresh, in fact, the dirt around it looked new.
Curious, he got to his feet, dusted off the dirt and grass clinging to his favorite jeans, and carefully picked his way over.
The headstone was a gleaming white and, to his surprise, the newly-deceased bore the same name as him. He reached out his hand to touch the engraved letters with his fingers. His eyes raked the birth date and date of death and he nearly dropped the flashlight. That was his birth date. And the death date–his heart beat in his chest so rapidly he thought it might explode–that death date was today.
Writing Prompt #51: An ice cream truck, a beach, sunglasses.
Picture #51: Describe the image below.