Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Criminal.
The Participating Bystander
Participating Bystanders have the responsibility of helping one of the two people on the card. They chose what area of the person's life to help them with. So if someone needed financial aid, the bystander could make it happen. If it's something specific, the bystander can put that in the “Further Information” box. They have full control over what happens to the person they help. However, the one not picked will get the opposite of whatever is decided. So if someone gets help to improve their health, the others' health will suffer. It's called Bystander because all they can do is watch as the results of their decision occur.
By old account5 years ago in Criminal
And the Bus Stopped
So I got off. I got off because I was hungry, obviously. Every happenstance has a cause, a reason to be. Let me explain, I was very hungry, I had started work at the Royal County Hotel before dawn; now it was 6:03 p.m. My mind was remembering pieces by famous poets and altering them, trying to distract my attention from my rumbling stomach. I was thinking, “Stands the clock at 6:03; there are no buttered scones for me.”
By Graham Sugars5 years ago in Criminal
Departure
A knife…I’ll need a good knife, Ethan thought. In a flurry of excitement, Ethan quickly scribbled down the word “knife” on the first page of his little black notebook. There were knives in the galley, but none of those would do. No, Ethan needed a very particular type of knife. Ethan ran his left hand through his greying brown hair as if it would generate more ideas for things he would need.
By Zach Cruthirds5 years ago in Criminal
Everyone is Fair Game
Placing his trusty and tattered black notebook back into his jacket pocket, the detective scanned the crime scene one more time. The notebook that he carried everywhere, all dogeared and with some pages barely holding on to the book’s gutter. He kept the book in two places, either his jacket pocket or at his bedside. When he’d received the notebook he distinctively noticed the scent. It was that all familiar and very unique aroma that only books possess. One of his favourites smells in the world.
By Donna O'Leary5 years ago in Criminal
My Dearest Daughter
As a child, my mother used to tell me that life always gifted surprises. Whether they were good or not was not up to us, that responsibility landed upon life. At times, life was not forgiving with the gifts she gave. I never understood the true extent she could go until I stood in front of my burning home. The blaze devouring all the life within my home, my families cries long quieted by the fumes. My once flowing tears dried up by the heat, the golden glow it casted upon my melanated skin now darkening it with its ash.
By Dayana Alvarez5 years ago in Criminal
Switcheroo
It wasn’t until Lewis got home that he noticed he’d taken the wrong suitcase from the airport baggage claim. He cursed himself under his breath when he opened it up on his bed to unpack and realized his error. It was probably the anxiety of flying that had clouded his mind and led to the mix-up, although it would’ve been an easy mistake for anyone to make. The outside of the case was nearly identical to his own, an old hard-sided bag in pale blue with twin brass clasps. The contents, however, pointed to a great polarization. Where Lewis wore argyle sweater vests and tweed blazers, the stranger wore silk shirts and designer tracksuits. Lewis’s clothes smelled of coffee and dry erase markers, but the stranger’s smelled like cigarettes and cologne. Lewis studied Joyce and Eliot, and the stranger had packed Hustler and a couple of detective paperbacks. The only thing that could not be found inside was any kind of identifying information. In his own luggage, Lewis had a little tag sewn into the lining, bearing his name, address, and phone number. Standing over his bed, staring into the wrong suitcase, he hoped with all his might to hear the phone ring.
By Max Firehammer5 years ago in Criminal
One L
She stared at the condensation gathering on the cup over the scribbled lettering that spelled out “Ellen B.”. It wasn’t the barista’s fault per say. How were they to know that before them stood, likely, one of the only Elen’s in the country, with a single L, rather than a double L. Possibly, it was a fault of her own, although, it would have been pretentious to state, “Elen with one L, not two.” as if a barista misspelling of her name on her morning coffee cup would be too offensive to let pass. The steam dissipated and she wondered if it was cool enough to-
By Bela Lacayo5 years ago in Criminal
