Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Criminal.
The Wooden Keepsake Box
Brielle answered what seemed like 50th email of the day and it was only 10:20 on a Monday morning. She heard the vibration of her phone to her right as the screen lit up with an out of state number. This is the 3rd time this number called her in the last week. They’ve never left a message and she never answered when they called. She doesn't know anyone from out of state so why would she answer. Truthfully, it was probably just another bill collector. Getting back to her email she heard her phone ding alerted her that they left a voicemail this time. Curiosity got the better of her and she grabbed her phone to listen to it. She played the message and heard a deep male voice say "Hi this message is for Brielle Stevens, formerly known as Nicolette Morelli. My name is Ray Jacoby, Esq from Jacoby, Meyer, and Rosenberg Law Firm in New York City. Please return my call at your earliest convenience. I am calling regarding the last will and testament of your grandfather, Nino Morelli. You can reach me at this number directly. Thank you and I hope to hear from you soon". All at once the color drained from her face and her heart hammered inside her chest making Brielle look pale under the UV lights in her office.
By Kristin Young5 years ago in Criminal
The Lightfoot Burglar
Victoria stepped into the sunny New York day with definitive purpose, her steps weaving expertly through the busy sidewalk. With one hand, she held a little black book and read its pages with fierce resolve. The other hand wound tightly around the handle of a hefty briefcase that tapped against her long pencil skirt.
By Andrea Standby5 years ago in Criminal
Patient Confidentiality
My eyes were peeled open, glued to the ceiling. I was deep in thought about the events that led to my current circumstances. The mere cold alone was enough to make me regret my decision. The decision that led me here, the same psychiatric ward that I referred my clients to when they were having some sort of mental health breakdown. My psychiatrist entered the cold, stale room, and roared, “Well hello Mrs.Gilbert! Oh, I’m sorry, Dr. Gilbert. How are you feeling?”
By Dee Sha'Ron5 years ago in Criminal
The Guy in the Corvette
The car had crawled out of the intersection, the barely attached front bumper scraping the tarmac as it labored onto the upcoming street. The machine banged, popped, and sputtered to a grinding halt in the middle of the road. One of the wheels, jutting out in a position opposite the rest, had finally spun lose its tire. There was a pained whirring as a result of excessive force on the gas pedal causing dense clouds of white smoke to rise up from the tailpipe. By some mad determination of the man in the driver’s seat, the car started moving again, a wobbling tire beneath it and a trail of fluid streaking the ground behind. He steered the groaning vehicle toward the curb alongside a Chevy dealership where he killed the engine of the black Corvette for the last time.
By Jesula Damas5 years ago in Criminal
Oats in a Field
Tuesday afternoon inside a dive bar, there was a handful of undesirable patrons. Anthony sat, watching a baseball game at the bar. He stared with desperation. He had bet on the game. Anthony was in his lower thirties, a war veteran, with long, unkempt hair and scars on his face. He'd drank five beers and chain-smoked half of his cigarettes. The game made him mad. "Take out that sorry pitcher! He couldn't throw it at the ground," Anthony drunkenly yelled. The bartender looked in disgust. "Aw shut up! Do you plan on paying your tab today?" the bartender responded. Anthony gave him a look. "Not today, but I'll hit a good lick one day and I'll be your favorite customer," said Anthony hopefully.
By Xavier DuPriest5 years ago in Criminal
The Idiot
The messenger bag hanging on the Bouncer’s right shoulder bounced against his side as he ran, it held textbooks and notebooks. He punched the air with his left hand and brought his watch close to his sweaty face. He clutched the watch with his right hand to steady it. Time was running out, he needed to catch the last train out of the city. The last thing he wanted was to spend another night at the 24 hour Carl’s Jr with the vagrants. He had nothing against them but it was impossible to sleep comfortably in there waiting until the station opened in the morning. The stench of rancid piss in the air was too much. The twenty-something year old, community college student by day, strip club bouncer by night, raced down the city sidewalk as a thick fog had begun to settle into the streets. His all black suit shimmered under the city lights. His dress shoes snapped against the cement. He regretted his decision earlier to work a bit longer for an extra cash tip buying a bottle of liquor and sneaking it in for one of the dancers. She had told him to keep the change as a tip. One dollar. Gee, thanks, Candy.
By Adrian Nava5 years ago in Criminal
My Black Book Secret
It was dark inside of Emily; her mind constantly raging with thoughts that could drag you down and keep you there for days. On this particular day, her mind felt exceptionally clouded as she sulked out of bed, through the mess of her studio, and into the bathroom.
By Not Available5 years ago in Criminal
Good-bye
Today is July 17, 1974. Everything is ready to go. The thought of what comes tomorrow morning is making it hard to sleep. It’s nearly 2:00 in the morning and I have to be out of here by 6:30. I’m keeping positive, it’s just another sleepless night for me.
By Elena Valdez5 years ago in Criminal
