Danny

The air smelled of old urine. The paint had peeled and hung from the grimy gray walls. A hissing shrill filled the air, as electricity flowed throughout the chair. The 6'3, 250-pound frame jerked and rattled with a mind of its own. Smoldering smoke oozed from the animated body. Blood seeped from his orifices and pooled atop the chained locks.

Danny had met a cruel end over stealing a pack of cheap bologna and a loaf of bread.

They accused him of robbing the 7-11 and slicing the throat of the petite, sandy-haired eighteen-year-old girl. By then, he was tucked under the I-10 overpass, chomping down on his sandwich.

A witness said he stormed out and sprinted down the road as if his life depended on it. It did. He was starving.

The cop eased his way up the slanted concrete wall.

The flashlight lit him up and settled on the tee's red stain and his blood-covered fingers.

"You want to tell me how you got that blood on you?"

"I sliced my finger, opening the bologna."

"Right. Stand up. Put your hands behind your back."

Danny sighed. He was going to jail because he fell the test of hunger.

The cop pulled the blood-soaked knife from Danny's pocket and immediately cuffed him.

"Why are you arresting me?"

"You're under arrest for robbery and murder."

Danny was silent.


A loud, electric buzz filled the wretched air. Danny convulsed one more time, then drooped like a rag doll.

"Freaking psycho got what he deserved," stated the main guard.

The young pimple-faced security guard gulped, "What did the number end up at?"

"Twenty-One. The bastard sliced up twenty-one women."

(277 Words)

Written for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge"  [13+]