Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Criminal.
How DNA captured its first monster
Lynda Mann was an attractive 15-year-old English teenager who lived in Narborough, a village near Leicester, with her step-father, mother and her older sister Susan. Lynda also performed well in school and enjoyed studying different foreign languages. On November 21, 1983, she had lined up a babysitting job to earn some extra money. Her parents expected her to return home after 6 p.m.
By Marc Hoover5 years ago in Criminal
Criminal Koala
I believe we are all masters of trivia. We all pick things up from simply existing in society, and many tidbits remain with us whether we want them to take up space in our brain or not. I am fairly certain that when I am 90, I will still remember that Jeremy Irons was the voice of Scar in “The Lion King” (which has the added irony that I have NO idea who Jeremy Irons is and could not pick him out of a line-up). In grad school in New Jersey, I impressed my friends at bar trivia by knowing that earthquake are measured on the Richter scale; but having grown up in Washington State, this was a fairly common topic of conversation.
By Erica Psaltis5 years ago in Criminal
Ein Morgen in Berlin
You rise to kill André. Pack a Luger heat tucked in your thick belt. In leather armor, straddle your Triumph motorbike with spit shined horsepower. Yesterday you caressed that motorbike thinking of what you have to do, you took the muck off the chrome and off your wheels deep groove to not leave tracks behind.
By Francisco Ibanez-Carrasco5 years ago in Criminal
The treading of the winepress.
Love, is a trifling thing. It is a painful process of learning how to empathize with another’s flaws, to understand the wisdom of another’s reasoning, to be patient towards the quirkiness of another's character, and to have the heart to help another, rather than be helped. Alas, love many times over, is used as a tool to manipulate another, a leash to control another victim, a means to an end. So it was with many men who fell prey to the bright eyes and the red lips of a seductress of the nightfall. A vampire in the guise of an innocent creature. A demon, masquerading as an angel of light.
By Jordan Zuniga5 years ago in Criminal
The Triangle of the St. Anne Marie
1964, Boston Harbor, Alexander Hayes. The St. Anne Marie is an antiquated beast; I approached the ship in dock, the presence it layed over the surrounding area was palpable. Although the smokestacks ended a fair few feet before the other ships, it imposed itself on the surrounding vessels and seemed to ride higher atop the water. The hull of the ship bristled with dents and scratches, which shone through the dull black protective coating. Strangely the damage made it shine in an almost divine way. The accommodating cabins and bridge seemed ripped straight from ancient Greece, or the southern equivalent; Wide pillars and soft white marble encapsulating a hewn wooden building. A veritable plantation house on the sea.
By Griffen Helm5 years ago in Criminal
The Disappearance and Murder of Dorothy Jane Scott
An Unexpected Find On August 6, 1984, a partially charred adult human skeleton was discovered half a mile east of Eucalyptus Drive in northeast Anaheim, California. Jesse Loza, a Macco Construction Company foreman, stumbled upon the remains at around 7:15 a.m. as he and his crew readied to lay pipe for Pac Bell telephone lines. Loza discovered the bones minutes after joking with his crew to “watch out for dead bodies.”
By Cynthia Varady5 years ago in Criminal
VANISHED part 2
The door looked bleak, situated in a bleak and dark stone building in a decidedly bleak corner of London. Tippy Ravenscourt took one last drag from her cigarette and stomped on it angrily. She could not believe she let her uncle talk her into doing this. The sky was steel grey, heavy with yet unspilled rain, a storm seemed to be brewing on the horizon.
By Vera Finch5 years ago in Criminal
The Cursed Film Part 3
The world literally turned on its side. Nausea brewed in my gut. I ran over to the kitchen sink and stuck my face under the tap and slurped. After a few draughts I cupped my hands and buried my face in cold water. It helped; the wrenching in my stomach subsided.
By Michael Z. Atrata5 years ago in Criminal
