Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Criminal.
The Wheel
I spend most of my time thinking about wheels. I’m not entirely sure why wheels in particular. I’m not entirely sure what kind of wheels I picture once my mind inevitably refers to them. No details, just their shape: circular. Or maybe I’m just thinking about circles? But circles don’t always spin, so we’re back to wheels.
By Cooper Lavallée-Roberts5 years ago in Criminal
BRA STRAP VENDETTA
Alissa (not her real name), shortly after our meeting, told me of the trap. A new kid was hanging around the school when she would leave, at two, to go onto her part-time job. She believed he was a new student with a similar schedule. He seemed somewhat aloof and did not have other guys walking with him. She felt compelled to befriend him. Not long after, he asked if she wanted to blow off work long enough to get something to eat. This made her uncomfortable, having never ventured outside of her schedule or her parent's rules. But here was the possibility of this new guy wanting to spend time with her. Typically, she was overlooked and was known as a math nerd or brainiac, “Sure, Just for an hour!”
By gail merda5 years ago in Criminal
Saved From the FireSafe Box
The fact that it was found amid the fire ruins should have been an omen. To say the least fire did not have any good memories associated with it, not in my life. At the age of 16 I had lived through three house fires, my sisters only one, this one; how lucky they were. This was the most devastating one, and I had only just begun to see all the damaging side effects it would have on our lives moving forward.
By Christian Lawson5 years ago in Criminal
Two
Jose Cupertino sped down Highway 133 in an old busted up 1985 Toyota pickup truck. He had been driving for days, weeks, hours. Time didn't really register to him anymore. His main last memory among his numerous other thoughts was of a woman handing him a black notebook. He could remember the look in her eyes as she handed it to him. It was an expression of fear, tired, lamentable fear. He was the last person anyone would suspect and that probably had been the reason of why he was chosen. He was a postal office worker in the little town of Medillin. It was a town that had transformed from a peaceful village to one of civil unrest. Killings and gunshots were now a part of everyday life. In the black book was a short plea to hide the pages secrets and stuck into the bookend was a passport, his photo imprinted in the middle of it, perfectly as though it had always been there. He had never been to the U.S. He found it somewhat ironic that now he was being forced there that night. He had barely known the woman. She had been a regular customer of his, an international customer, and later there had been a light friendship, but nothing more and now he was headed up north to meet relatives of hers that she had never seen and he had never known apart from the envelops that he would deliver to her doorstep every couple of weeks. It seemed fitting for the times, yet surreal to reality at that moment. It was under the cover of darkness that he had left Medillin with its deep green hills and humid breeze. There was a guard post just outside of the village and he was stopped, but no one paid much attention to the run of the mill postal worker. Soon the green hills were at his back and night sky were in the windshield before him. Two hours later he had made it through customs at the Metropolitan Airport. The passport had checked through, a modest business man he appeared to be in the photo and then he was taxing on the runway with another 150 passengers headed for Houston, Texas. As the wheels left the tarmac two words popped into his brain and he wondered why they would be those two words, but also partly understood and then the plane banked upward into the black space of the Columbian night sky and disappeared into the low hanging clouds that only a jungle could command and contain.
By Sound And The Messenger5 years ago in Criminal
Lies'n Lies
I came home from school, dropped my backpack on the floor, and went to grab my phone. Then my mom started talking to me. “Sweetie, something came in the mail for you,” my mom said as she handed me an envelope. I picked up the letter and when I opened it there was a check for twenty-thousand dollars inside with my name on it. I screamed! “Honey what's wrong,”she asked.
By Isabella Rios5 years ago in Criminal
The little black book
Shit. I did it again. Blacking out is becoming a dangerous habit I need to break. My head ached and my body felt like lead, but I rolled to my side anyway and watched the floor tilt through one barely-open, crusty eye. Shouldn’t have done that. My stomach lurched and I thought of bread and water to try and convince it to stay calm and digest on. It subsided and I convinced myself to open the other eye. Where the fuck am I? Obviously a hotel room, by some miracle. It wasn’t fancy, standard hotel drapes and scratchy, dull carpet; white walls and a random abstract painting to ‘bring the room together.’ Bullshit. Were my standards really this low? The room mocked me and mirrored my choice in men. I needed to get out before the sleeping stranger next to me woke up. The TV was on low volume and the weatherman called for another chilly Spring day. I suppose it will help clear my mind on the walk home though. I glanced at the alarm clock by the boring brown lamp, it read 9:37.
By Shae Brennan5 years ago in Criminal
Blank Pages
The smell of mould and dust filled her nostrils as she pushed open the broken front door. Sariah peered in to make a quick assessment of the situation before stepping in. The last thing she needed during a desperate bathroom stop were critters running up her legs and making a home in her pants while she emptied her overfilled bladder.
By Heidi Goodnight5 years ago in Criminal
