Latest Stories

Most recently published stories in Criminal.

Nothing's Free
The room was barely lit by a little gloomy cloud-filtered sun through one window. There was a rustling sound that was part crumbling bricks and part scurrying rats. James pulled the comforter up over his head to hide from the cold. Home sweet squat.
By Tyghe Deerfield5 years ago in Criminal
Serum
Pink and green lights moved across her in waves, bathing her bare skin in comfort as she stood by the window watching the relentless stream of ads that flashed across the giant screen opposite her window. They had started putting up the Scriins all over London when she was young, and now every building in the city was wrapped in them, their holograms filling the city with neon from dusk till sunrise. It had been another endless encompassing night that slipped easily into dawn as the tell-tale sky high above let her know it was time as it changed slowly from darkness to a familiar pale silvery-blue. She shifted herself from the wall and padded over to the sleek black panel that took up an entire wall in her bedroom and touched it lightly, it slid open, immediately offering her a glossy flat envelope from the hundreds that lay in neat little rows behind it. She ripped into it, dropping the bio-plastic on the floor and throwing her uniform on over the comfy, worn underwear she’d put on the night before. She sidestepped in front of the old-fashioned mirror that hung next to the wardrobe, the one she’d found in one of the junkshops in the lower levels. The Company had offered to pay for a plexi-mirror to be installed when they’d upgraded her to her own flat, but she’d flatly refused, opting instead for the old and worn antique. She loved that it wasn’t tech reliant, it was simple, quiet and pure. No touch screen beauty bot options, just her.
By Sara Whitney5 years ago in Criminal
A Fortunate Finding
11:35 Monday 14th of September 1718 So he ran, dotting through the crowd trying to lose the pirates that were chasing him. And that’s when he lost track of it all; a sudden burst of colour as the town fool shook his marotte inches from his face, an old lady tying a raggedy ribbon onto his hand “It has healing powers love it will do that nasty frown of yours some good” and a girl grabbing the very thing he’s been protecting for years. He landed on the floor, the world in front of him becoming blurry for a mere second, but even so, he knew that it was too late.
By Joanna Juszczyk5 years ago in Criminal
Carbon Copies
*Dun Dunnn Da dun Dunn da du* (Torrance smacks the snooze button) "No way it's 6:30..... already?", thinks Torrance as he stretches then slowly rolls out of bed.
By Deante Howard5 years ago in Criminal
Madam Hollywood’s Little Black Book of Sins
The infamous City of Angels, home to nearly four-million sinners who hide behind the facade of saints. A city so bright that the only stars available for weary eyes to witness are on the streets of Hollywood Blvd. Many come from all walks of life, all looking to obtain the American dream only to find those same desires to be polluted with the worries, fears, and self-depreciation manufactured by a city filled with more envy than hospitality. There are only two souls that survive and more or less thrive in this City of dreamers, and that is either a soul that has no ulterior motives to obtain money, power, and glory to fulfill their egos or compensate for their lack of intrinsic self-worth. This is because they are individuals that radiate true positivity wherever they go. This is the soul that can be seen on the beaches in Venice, basking in the warmth of the sun, appreciating and reflecting on all that the Earth continuously and generously gives its inhabitants, whereas, the other soul only seeks to take and gain. This darker soul will not be found in the same generalized image of a typical antagonist with a villainous smile or malevolent gaze; this is an individual who can look like a mother, father, or friend but has no intentions to be there in your time of need. Some say “not all hero’s wear capes” and in this sense, it is important to know that not all villains have horns. This soul, which you will encounter far more of in your travels to the city of angels, is consumed by greed and pride. They seek the satisfactions of fame, wealth, and obscene power to meet their every demand to feel even the slightest available sense of joy, and they will do anything to obtain it. Even if they have to sell a piece of their soul.
By Sabrina5 years ago in Criminal
The Bloody Dance. Top Story - March 2021.
“Dance with me,” he yelled. Move your hips to the beat of the music. Who cares who is looking, as long as your beads hypnotise me with their jingles.
By Tito M. Williams5 years ago in Criminal
How much for your life?
How do you quantify the value of someone’s life? We apply our own ideas of what makes something valuable to objects all the time. If you ask a stranger on the street what they would be willing to pay for a candy bar, what would they say? One dollar, maybe five it it’s some kind of fancy, gourmet stuff. Now ask that same person, how much for the life of someone you love? They would do what any sensible person would do right? They’d gasp or act appalled at the very idea! But everything has a value, a number based on the demand we have for it. So, I ask again…
By Zurlia Mosby5 years ago in Criminal
A Privileged Statement
It wasn’t a bribe, if that’s what you’re implying. It is not uncommon for a tenant to reward good service from his building manager. And our building, as you are aware, is known (no, renowned) for its excellent (no, flawless) service. A bribe – ha! The incident with Mr. Diavoli and the unfortunate termination of Ms. Rabinovitch’s lease have nothing to do with each other – not one thing.
By Griffin Gonzales5 years ago in Criminal
Partners In Crime
Partners in crime By: Si A cool breeze rattled the leaves behind me as I wrote these words with you in mind, for some of you who are more logically, seeing things for the way that they are; a confession can be realised as a fitting label for these writings. To those of you who are on the other end of the spectrum, seeking meaningful connections through all creations under the sun, this can be seen as a letter or perhaps something a little more intimate to match my burning passion – a love letter of such. While this judgement might be as close of an explanation as the human mind can conceive, I am afraid that is not quite it.
By Si5 years ago in Criminal
Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner
She pressed the button again. Ka-ching! Listening carefully to the sound of the machine she was playing. Almost, almost, she knew it by heart. Every nuance, every sound was a familiar melody to her. She was so, so close to a pay-off, she could feel it. There was a sheen of silver sweat on her brow, a quiver in her lip and she felt like she had been running a marathon, because in fact, she had. It had been six long hours since she first sat down at her machine. Not a machine, not any machine, but her machine where all her hopes and dreams lived and died.
By egmiller5 years ago in Criminal
The Small Black NoteBook
The year was 2009. A Scrimple coin network came into existence. Toshisa MotoNaka was mining the genesis block number 0, which had a reward of 50 Scrimple coins, what would be worth 2.5 Billion dollars today. The Scrimple Coin was created to decentralize the Earth currency and take control away from the banks. This gave control to the people and allowed them to safely keep money in the Scrimple BlockChain. With the click of a button you could transfer funds around the world in the event that the banks collapse.
By Will Mannino5 years ago in Criminal
The Warning
A silhouette of a crowd gathers around in the street. There was an accident. I can’t see past the crowd. But instinct is telling me to look at the body. I move towards the crowd and feel something underneath my feet. I look down and lift my foot to see a joker card. I bend over to pick it up and when I stand upright and look Infront of me I see the crowd is gone. All that is left is the body. I move towards it and as I get closer, I begin to see it more clearly. The person lying on the ground is me lying on the street. In my hand is a black journal. Just as I bend to pick up the notebook I wake up. I’ve been having this same dream for over a month now. I look towards my desk. Resting near a deck of cards is a black notebook. I remember a week ago I was on the corner of 5th and Birch street heading home from a poker match. I get up from my bed and walk over to where the book rested comfortably.
By Char 5 years ago in Criminal