Random prompt writing

I go to these writing meetups every Wednesday and this week's session was quite interesting. Dustin had these dice with different pictures on each side and gave one to each of us. The pictures that showed up after all of us had rolled our die were the words we were to use in our 15 minutes of writing (I spent 20 minutes writing though :P)
So this is what came up. (I ended up using all but one word)

Prompts: Sunflower, rainbow, lightning, flashlight, magnet, key, hand/palm, crescent moon, clock/watch

It was a clear night, no clouds in the sky. Constable Marco could clearly see the crescent moon behind the leaves of the giant tree that stood guard outside the cemetery. There was a cool breeze that wafted past and stirred the sunflowers that lay at the head of the gravestone he stood at. He glanced at his watch and grimaced. 28 more minutes. He had another 28 minutes to decide whether he wanted to stay and meet the mysterious person from the online forum or just leave and regret not having stayed.
It all started a week ago when he was browsing the public chatrooms and found one of them with his town’s name on it. More than half the people here didn’t even know how to use a computer and finding a chatroom with his town’s name on it was quite intriguing. “Can the direction of lightning be deflected by a strong magnetic field?” read the post. How stupid.  Of course it couldn’t. Besides, where would one go for such a strong magnet anyway?
Saying so to himself, he disregarded the post and continued scrolling when suddenly, he received a private message. It was from the person who made the stupid post and geotagged his town on it. There was a bloody palm for a display picture that read ‘Fight till your hands bleed’.
“Yo! I clocked a view from your username and thought I’d ping you since you’re also from around here. I am what movies would call a crazy scientist but I am anything but crazy. I have a proposition and I think we can help each other. Care to meet me at the cemetery in front of Gina Turner’s gravestone at 9pm tomorrow?”
Who the fuck was this guy?
“I don’t even know where this town is. Good luck with your crazy science gizmo.”
“I know where you live Marco. Meet me there tomorrow and all will be clear!”
What? How does he know my name? Who is this guy?
Being a constable in a small town had its own perks. He used an encrypted internet connection because the department couldn’t afford to get him 2 computers to use – one for work and one for personal use. But his job description included a personal computer perk. So they made do with this middle ground procedure. So Mr. Bloody Palm (or was it Ms. Bloody Palm?) was a hacker. Probably one of those loafers he always saw hanging around the street corner trying to sell marijuana. But none of them were women. So it was probably Mr. Bloody Palm.
He considered phoning his cyber security guy in the city but thought the better of it. Marco had a reputation to protect and fooling around on an online forum with internet trolls and profiles with nothing but pornography on them wasn’t going to strengthen his case for a promotion. He decided he would handle it himself.
“Okay you’ve got me hooked. I’ll be there.”
*log out*
Marco swerved around upon hearing a branch break and some ruffling in the undergrowth. Shining his flashlight at the source of the sound, he realized that it was a bloody fox. “Get yourself together Marco! You’re a cop!” He turned around to face the entrance to the cemetery and wondered why Mr. Bloody Palm had picked late Ms. Gina Turner to be a witness to their meeting. It suddenly dawned on him that he was still in uniform. He hadn’t changed after work. Besides, everyone in the town knew the cop who drove the chief around the place. The thought of changing and probably protecting his identity had not crossed his mind. Berating himself he concluded that he could not meet this stranger and risk losing face in front of everyone he knew. Hell he could even lose his job! He briskly walked out of the cemetery glancing back at the eerie oak tree that seemed to beckon to him. He reached his car and fumbled in his pockets for his keys.
As he inserted the key into the door of his car a hand grabbed his shoulder from behind. Marco wheeled around and shoved at his assailant. It was a young blond man, about 25 years old. He had a scruffy beard and unkempt clothes. Marco could faintly catch the smell of alcohol in his breath and wondered who this guy was.
“Spare some change?”
“Go away!”
“Please. I’m starving. I ain’t eaten since 3 days.”
He had a weirdly German accent. And his bad grammar lent more weight to the assumption that he was probably German. Marco ignored the squalid German beggar and made at his door.
“You’re early YungCh1ken007. And I didn’t know you were a cop. Wow this certainly makes things a little more interesting!”
The constable slowly turned around. The German beggar was still standing there. He was the only person in sight. Not a soul was usually outdoors in a quiet town such as this past 8pm.
“I didn’t expect you to show up but I’m glad you did. Let’s go back to the cemetery.”

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