fact or fiction
Is it fact or merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores the myths and beliefs we hold about copycat killers, eyewitnesses testimony, what makes a murderer and more.
Why Prisoners Wear Orange Jumpsuits
"A Comprehensive Exploration of Inmate Attire and Its Multifaceted Impact on the Correctional System" When envisioning a prisoner, the mental image often includes the unmistakable sight of an individual clad in an orange jumpsuit. The question naturally arises: Why do prisoners wear these distinctive outfits? The answer reveals a complex tapestry of historical, psychological, and practical considerations that contribute to the significance of orange jumpsuits in the correctional system.
By Nicolas J.D2 years ago in Criminal
Vishal the Detective
Detective Vishal, renowned for his sharp intellect and unwavering commitment to justice, found himself entangled in a web of crime and corruption when he was assigned the case of Wilson's mysterious demise. Wilson, a prominent philanthropist known for his advocacy against corruption, was found dead under perplexing circumstances, sending shockwaves through the city.
By Mustafa Ali2 years ago in Criminal
"The Scarecrow of the Dark Farm". Content Warning.
It was a tranquil farm on the outskirts of the small town of Willowbrook. The golden fields of corn swayed gently in the breeze, and rural life unfolded peacefully until autumn arrived. That was when the scarecrow, an inert figure of straw and tattered clothes, came to life on dark nights.
By Hendrik SancheZ2 years ago in Criminal
The Case of the Misplaced Jewel
The Whitaker family was in a massive panic. It seemed they were missing their patriarch’s most prized possession. Old man Whitaker had his entire family out looking for his Jewel. They had looked high and low, but no one had found his precious gem. The old man was sure someone had taken his dear love, so he called in Old Mother Combs to solve the crime.
By Mother Combs2 years ago in Criminal
The Finishing Line!
Characters Beautifully bubbly Gloria Estefan; Brutally Brilliant,Ted Berne; Neurotically gregarious,Gerard; One fine morning two persons set forth in their usual quest of making a living. For a while, they had both reveled upon the idea of a good life.In some ways, they were quite alike; fully focused and devout in their work. Every day, for the most part, they were glued to their undying routines. And, to say the least ,their habitual inurements were becoming a sort of second nature to 'em ; making 'em stick to their beliefs. Day to day, their lives were ‘getting more and more centered around getting one job done, and then, moving to the next. And with each new task seemingly groaning as an ole hackneyed trite , it somehow, fetched them that utmost fervid pride. Perhaps, the two of them were so natural and so close to what propitiated them to have fully “arrived.” By nature ,the young man, Ted Berne, could be seen as a simple modest guy, and the lady named Gloria Estefan, was recklessly bold and obstinate in her instincts.For a long time, at length, they were lost in their own practices, so much so, that they were almost surfeiting sentiments to a reclusive demure. He was a doctor by profession and she a stage performer. And there they were, as it seemed, a match made in heaven , yet born to be lured to the elegant guiles of the unforeseen. And much so, an unimaginable thing happened one early sunny morn . The sun was rising bright thro' the crimson hues set afar at the oceanic bay . The horizon looked thrilled at the sight of every kindled ray. At that moment, Ted and Gloria came forth into the streets of NYC, and for what it appeared, they were both on an early morning jog -trot-retreat. It was a sort of wayfarers way of taking in some fresh air in order to get that much needed rest and relief. Being an early Sunday morn ,there was hardly any rush in the streets. No traffic.Every sound of the workday week had gotten arrested in a bliss. No hustle-bustle of the passersby, no rattling of the vehicular screech ! "It is a land of opportunity,” pondered Gloria as she gathered her steps to sprint up to a steady speed. Up ahead, at a furlong distance, Ted was winding down to a slower pace after his long rigorous jogging fleet. Ted was literally “beating retreat,” to his morning excursion as Gloria swiftly passed him by. Strolling along the street,he was now taking extra time to notice his surroundings a lil bit more intently. As he took his stride towards the bridge, he noticed Gloria gathering quite a pace ahead of him. He watched her slowly fade away but, somehow, his gaze stuck with her. But in all this, a fact was jarringly evident. Ted was getting weirdly restless after seeing Gloria. A feeling that he c’d neither resist nor overlook. "Wow, “ he said. “ Who was the person who just passed me by. She surely exudes a verve quite different from the others. Her stamina and strength surpasses the ordinary,” Ted reflected. Then, in the next instance , he withdrew his thoughts and tried swallowing those affixed notions. For years, due to the nature of his activities, he was predisposed towards noticing the weaknesses and strengths in his patients. And now, he was,once more, turning towards reading and redeeming magnanimous virtues of some stranger in the street. “Why am I meddling with this constant obsession trying to act aright for the mankind ? When will I learn to overlook and stop overloading myself with the role of the “ultimate benefactor,” driving away the infirmities and frailties of others. I am no god. Shouldn’t I steer away from these dastardly duties and open up to doing something else.” Thinking so, Ted continued on his riviera of exploring and spreading the arch of his wonderment.. A fiesta --along those city lines , or so it seemed, and though, it was strange and inappropriate to his usual demeanor, he continued to bulwark thro' it obstinately. In ways this was allowing him to seek —that much needed respite—not to mention—relief! Night before , Gloria , had grabbed a role of a dainty French lady ,all casted in that finesse jewelry, but awkwardly sounding like a comical misery. Her script was a thousand pages long, and she didn't seem to be fitting in with the role. Moreover, she lingered far too long deciphering the dialogues alongside the things she had to say. The script didn’t draw out her best. Instead, she was barfing out ,every word, with that distinct verbiage, readily undulating in a clumsy manner. Anyhow, she regurgitated it all out—in one go, and finally, ‘left the rehearsals—literally—at bay. But that was the upper story. Unknowingly there was a decreed epiphany that Gloria was about to face. Soon she was to be subjected to an unfathomable change. It was like a “boom,” striking at her from nowhere. The most euphemistic way of putting that would be —“ a sleuth of fate,” launched and unicamerally hooked her to it. Unfortunately she was not aware of it coming. What she was about to experience ,shortly, was nothing less of another staged landing ; except that , it was of a different sort, with plot lines opening up to multitudinous fields. A mystery she was —yet to live, to believe! For now, sublimely she felt her thoughts were reading—half and half, through the scripted soliloquy of the previous day ; reciting and making virtues of everything that was necessary while she peacefully jogged along the sideways. Then , abruptly, an intuition slow coached her instincts. But unconvinced, she skittishly kinked her imagination, as though, engulfing some hot and cold play, all at once. Gloria felt stiffly held up while fielding such fierce opposition of mind over matter. Reluctantly, her crotchety mind hinged upon stubborn lolligags ; bestowing a unique method in madness. Inadvertently she found herself,unconsciously correcting the dialogues that were impinging upon her . Yes she was groping unduly! During her last rehearsal , her stint on stage, was an overcompensatory act , emerging irreproachably as a stunt, gnawing at her soul. She wanted to do better at her work. This morning, however, her audacious spirit was rising and she was recalling her arguments with Gerard ( scriptwriter) from the previous day. And then, a smirk appeared on Gloria’s face. A memory flashed across. She recalled the way she had corrected the playwright. “ This script needs urgent edits,” she had implored. Gloria’s urgency had rolled out as a command than request, and she felt vehemently pressed to say—“Hey, Gerald , these words sound offensive to ears polite. Could you please express this sentiment in another way.” “Somebody stole my car while I was wandering around completing this script last night,” Gerard spoke indignantly.” Right after that, he h’d jumped further to explain himself out. Gloria recalled how Gerard bustled forward and remarked in that horrendous tone—“ A cop came and took me to jail. Some enquiries were being made. I ain’t had a chance to get the damn thing off my mind, least to mention, taking a look at this script. You always come through as a pinch, Gloria.” To that , mumbling to herself Gloria had stepped away momentarily. She had stopped herself from correcting the errors in the script even though the entire narrative strangely swung between peddlers flash tongue and the queens speech. The recitation had felt very inappropriate to her but she had to put up with it. Strangled by words in that way, everything was failing to reach her senses. But leaning forward , she found herself disappearing into that florid rhetoric, which almost extended as an euphuist's essay . Reckoning ahead and disappointed by the charging rants and ramblings of Gloria, Gerard too had blurted out repress less—“do that please, or else I will pull my hair. That’s my ink 🖋️ which dissolved in water and concealed that which you were so ardently wanting to express. Now please 🙏 stand clear of that snooty act and behave.” And such so, Gloria found herself screaming into that problematic prose, with Gerard running mad at every call of her smarts. Apparently so, looking at them arguing, the rest of the people on the sets were giving them merry chuckles. Every other day , during rehearsals, the entire enactment turned into this pious recounting of amateur writings, incidentally inciting comic humor. In that sense, Gloria wasn't happy about her dialogue delivery but, the show had to go on as Christmas was drawing near. Perhaps, curtains had to be soon drawn up for public entertainment. But surprisingly, this Sunday morn ,Gloria wasn’t feeling any of that frivolous fickleness riding over her head. It was her day off. The becalming breeze was soothing her senses and the air was brushing her face to place some sort of a special honor. She was glowing ! The lovely lady was rejoicing in her spirits and she continued to stride through. Then along the coast , stretching out into the bay , she sailed away, catching every bit of freshness there. Meanwhile, Ted was prowling steadily towards her. His eyes were following along in a feverish excitement. He tried to locate her thro ' the visibility of the morning mist. . She ,on the other hand, was barging ahead with her ever-lengthening strides and quickly approached a slope down the lane. In a literal sense, now, the space between them was extending and they were almost at a disappearing point of sight . Ted’s attention got diverted by a procession of sea gulls passing by. These birds crackled amidst the soundscape ,as if, they were constantly chatting away. Ted looked at the blue depths of the waters and wandered along the shore. Sooner than later, he got mesmerized by the beauty of the autumn trees lining the bay. The gushing winds stirred the leaves and a potpourri of scents captured him spontaneously. Gently he put himself at ease and momentarily drifted away. A blissful peace surrounded him. The magical view of the rising sun and the spectacular sea felt ,as perfect as, it could ever be. And in that one moment, he allowed himself to sink in, and a joyous feel exuded through this alluring scene. And then, things changed. Evidently destiny was fabricating it’s own way through his thoughts. Somehow, automatically, his mind drew upon Gloria's subtle beauty, flashing across his mind--- ever so passionately. "I shall remember those looks ,even though, I wonder why our eyes met ," he mused silently to himself. And then , left alone in the wee hours of tranquil, Ted stepped up his pace in the direction where he had last seen Gloria. By then, she had caught up quite a distance. Invariably, Ted wanted to catch a glimpse of her again. Once more, he felt the urge to engross himself in silly nothings . Those natural organic seduction games were striking at him from nowhere. He had pledged never to go that route especially after his previous break up. Yet, in that moment, fate was taking its impish turn. It was playing its deceiving games of irony, and he was getting carried away. Gloria,on the other end, was pursuing her way and continued to jog. Within no time she had turned the corner at the far end and started reverting back. In a short while, she was at a visible from Ted. He looked up and noticed her looking at him. This, of course , led him to pace up further. "O! She's closer than I c’d have ever wished for. Not too far gone. " he exclaimed. Gloria , meanwhile , was making the most of her way inwards , and was, advancing along the narrow footpath by the sea wall ; unseen and concealed but, consciously determined to finish her jog and return to her apartment soon. She was a furlong away from her destination . "Let me take a cut across the road! ,” said the young lady. But thereupon awaited a tragedy. Next moment, her breath fluttered as she seized it in a sigh. Ever determined to set forth on her last lap by the river side, she leaped. But, fleeting along, she heard the laments of her soul sinking into poetic verses . Unknowingly she started reciting this ominous poesy. O! Live long, night and fondly day coming along most in usurping pace One hour after drawn in haste, O there comes another as fleets of waves Then unceasingly gone , begone, not to stay! Yet until the last syllable of ever—that “ever-never,” fades Yeah, far afar into that distant bay… Oft upon saunters sleepless in face And, in all this and more, where stillness doth stray; Solemnly bidden to that committed pace And Upon Oath as head shall answer ; unto faith as it pledges it's way Hurray ! Hurray ! Hurray! For now, I shall leap redoubling my pace, while thee may — Gather those mysterious forays, And from this day to that day ; just in time, Noticing -every other-ancient ray! Yeah, holding that torchlight steadily upright To unravel forever, in this heavenly space And, in such lengthening strides my resolve shall ever ride, doubling itself, in it’s ever determined ways. The next moment, suddenly a car sped out of the mist, and recklessly ran its arbitrary course with no stoppage. Seemingly, it’s breaks had failed! Thrown out of gear, the vehicle shuffled its way over the curb and moved higgledy- piggledy towards Gloria. Impervious to her surroundings , she didn't notice the car in her pathways. Before she could realize anything, she got pitilessly pulled into the chaos. A bit far in the distance, Ted , heard the noise of the loud screechy collision. Within moments, an eerie calm vaulted itself in reverie, and everything turned topsy- turvy. Gloria lay there in an accident with her body twisted under the rubble ..Blood oozed out of her body. In a reflex, she tried to move but found herself tragically tangled in the grips of enormous misery. Then, her senses got shrouded into stillness ,and one by one, a lull faintness started engulfing her. Soon, every noise seemed muffled , as though, every imagery was dancing back in ebb. Something let stupor agape into her face and slipped into further arrest. Subsequently ,her heartbeat lulled and she abruptly forged into silence. For a moment, a strange creepiness spread in the air. But somebody rushed up to the accident spot ,and immediately called for a cab ...With the headlights piercing through the glow of the dawn, the cab driver took Gloria to the nearby hospital. All of a sudden, things had changed in a wink of an eye . That’s how nature plays it's unexpected, hideous games. The sight of the accident was gory and it was threateningly sucking the joy out of life. Ted hastened towards the sight to catch a glimpse. The Imminent danger of what could have happened to Gloria gave him a shudder. A vacant stare and a look of terror coursed through his eyes. Shocked by what he had witnessed, Ted drew over his breath and mumbled to him — “Free! Her body and soul must be free! Beyond that bitter moment , he curbed himself from imagining anything else. Massive flames 🔥 had erupted within seconds, and Gloria was gone. Or so it seemed. The morning local news spoke about the incident briefly. The incident got crushed-hushed, amidst a world of other matters broadcasted. For the next couple of days, Gloria’s entity remained unseen and none of her colleagues at the theatre had any clue about her whereabouts.
By Madhu Goteti 2 years ago in Criminal
“The last night of the year at the North Pole”
"On the night of December 31, at the North Pole, Santa Claus was delivering the last of Christmas presents. Suddenly, a heart-rending scream was heard in the distance. Santa Claus rushed to investigate and found his wife, Mrs. Claus , dead on the ground. The North Pole police quickly arrived at the crime scene and began investigating. However, they could not find any clues that could lead them to the murderer.
By Hendrik SancheZ2 years ago in Criminal
Shadows Reclaimed: A City's Redemption. Content Warning.
In the heart of the sprawling metropolis, where skyscrapers touched the heavens and alleyways whispered secrets, a lone figure emerged from the shadows. His name was Alex Mercer, an enigmatic force of justice who had once battled against the machinations of a clandestine organization known as The Umbra.
By MR.Mahmoued2 years ago in Criminal
The Enigmatic Heist at Nightingale Manor
The streets of Eldridge City lay shrouded in a thick fog that crept in from the bay, casting an eerie glow on the towering structures that defined the skyline. In a corner of this sprawling metropolis stood Nightingale Manor, an opulent estate cloaked in mystery. Its owner, the enigmatic billionaire Richard Nightingale, was a recluse rumored to possess a collection of priceless artifacts from across the globe.
By Clifford Edwards2 years ago in Criminal
