Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Criminal.

Hello, Good Father
It has never occurred to the priest that the smell of a church could be ruined by words. This particular scent has always comforted him, evoking memories of stillness and comfort. The smell of old tarnished wood, gently and lovingly polished, and the light odor of dust settling over instruments and iconography have always signaled home to him.
By farmills5 years ago in Criminal
So Many Questions
Shellie Halverson never knew her mom had belongings in a storage unit. Her mom had died nearly five years ago; the letter Shellie received from the U-Sav-It warehouse on Monday was a total surprise. Her mom had always lived a minimalist lifestyle. Why did she need a storage unit? Her mom had apparently prepaid five years’ worth of rent. A payment was due by the end of the month or the contents would be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Shellie thought about letting her mom’s stuff go, but curiosity overcame her common sense. She Googled directions to the warehouse and planned to go after work on Tuesday.
By Kim Schaefer Lehnhoff5 years ago in Criminal
The Yolanda Hotel, 1933
It rained steadily the night they crossed the border. Bill drove, easing the car over the patchwork dirt road, with Jack at his side. A thin film of red dust lifted into the air behind them and concealed the endless line of telephone poles strung along the horizon like thin black crosses. With the rain came mud, and in the mud their pace slowed.
By Q H5 years ago in Criminal
Full Circle
The ‘dead of night’ is an apt term for those fleeting few hours of early morning when the world stops because right now, even though I’m beside a highway, it’s quieter than a cemetery. The darkness around me is thick enough to touch. A waxing crescent moon hangs high in the sky. I continue walking.
By Cam Brierley5 years ago in Criminal
Fussin'
Clem was fussin’. Didn’t make no nevermind whether he wanted it or didn’t, when a foul mood struck him, he would start to fussin’. He had just spent a stone cold week in the snowy hilltops miles from the town, sifting and digging through ice cold water and frozen dirt and had never seen a wink of nugget. The people in town frequently laughed at his failed efforts in searching for gold, another week with not a flake to show for it wouldn’t change a thing.
By Stephen Jackson5 years ago in Criminal
Leonardo's Notebook
I had settled in a small suburb of Florence to undertake my studies and escape my previous life in England. I was on a scholarship to study Painting at the Florence Academy. My family wanted me to study Business, although their intentions were not entirely selfless.
By will arthur5 years ago in Criminal
The Reuben Urbaine Affair
I always had a hobby of people watching since I was a kid. The goings and comings of the lives outside the window next to my desk. The faces, clothes, walks; all of it. As a result, I was deemed to be that unsettlingly curious child who would most likely become some form of creepy adult, probably a sex offender. I suppose they would be surprised to know that wasn't in the cards for me. Now a grown man, I ended up taking my staring practice into the professional world of private investigation as an amatuer sleuth. Managed to scrape together enough for a small office on the upper east side with Reba, an assistant who, obligingly, only complained about the pay once in a while. Reuben Urbaine and Associates Investigative Services, Reba said it sounded better than Urbaine P.I. and gave us a bit of class. It didn't help bring in any business since my biggest concern was looking just busy enough to fool anyone into thinking the case files were full. That entailed looking at the blank sheets of legal pads with serious intent.
By Casey Evans5 years ago in Criminal
Secrets Revealed By The Little Black Book
I remember nothing about my first few years on earth. All Grandma Misty ever told me was that someone murdered my parents when I was a baby. I know that they loved me dearly, and Grandma Misty raised me as her own. She constantly reminded me of how much my parents loved me. We would lay on the floor next to the fireplace, where she told me stories about my mom while we both sipped on some hot cocoa during the winter nights. We didn't know much about my dad but that he was a refugee with no living relatives.
By Ali SP5 years ago in Criminal
The Fight
It was a clear night; not a cloud in the sky. The moon was shining so bright, the streetlights were barely needed. Jake couldn’t help but look at the stars, wishing he was going anywhere else. Still sore from last time, Jake held his ribs and took a deep breath as he scanned the area to ensure he wasn’t being followed. He clutched his gym bag in his hand as he ducked into a dark alley, where even the man in the moon couldn’t see him. Jake walked up to a large, steel security door and knocked two times. A small window popped open and a set of eyes glared at him. “Sometimes you just have to roll with the punches,” Jake said confidently. The door opened and Jake walked in.
By Heather Fritch5 years ago in Criminal
Grandma's Black Notebook
As I opened the letter from my Grandmother a chill came over me. I wanted to throw it away but couldn't. "You have to find the black notebook. It was taken or lost in the black of night. In this book are the codes for the continuation of our species and if the code is not connected before the 21st hour of the 21st day in the 21st year we will die. You are the deliverer born on the 21st day of the 11th month. You alone must find the Black Notebook."
By Michael Neumann5 years ago in Criminal
A Hike in the Woods
Steele sat impatiently at the door with his large brown eyes watching me, eager for his walk. “Ok mom, I have to go. Steele needs his walk or he will destroy the house,” I said, getting his harness and leash out of the coat closet.
By Anna Olech5 years ago in Criminal
The Well-Intentioned Hit List
I write all of their names in a journal, every single one of them. At first, it was my way of holding myself accountable for my actions. I thought that if I was forced to look at all of their names at the conclusion of each job, I would see them, relive my guilt, and have no choice but to stop. When I first began, I thought that I wouldn’t be able to do more than five. It was surprising enough that I did one in the first place, but five would surely be when I clocked out.
By Megan W.5 years ago in Criminal