A Little Flash Fiction.

I've tried my hand a few times at flash fiction. As an exercise it keeps you concise and your writing tight. This is a piece I wrote a while back. Gives us yet another reason to not eat fast food.

Irrational Fear

I’ve heard stories about people who’d been dropped on their head, but the only person I’ve ever known who it happened to was my brother, Daniel. We were in Mickey D’s with our parents. Dad

picked up three year old Danny from one of their high chairs and dropped him – right on his head. Danny was never the same.           

The very sight of a red container of French Fries set him off into a screaming fit. By the time he was ten, we had to cover his head every time we drove past the golden arches. At sixteen, his therapist decided the best treatment would be for him to confront his irrational fear.  Danny took an after school job as the griller at the local burger joint.  One day, the police came and arrested him. The therapy worked; the doctor’s say he’s the sanest serial killer on death row.