fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
Hazey Days
What a time to be alive. Right? I am supremely skeptical when I hear that much excitement. Those words send Q-tip’s dope, classic song “Breathe and Stop” flashing in my psyche. If you're thinking; “great not another story about race!” “I’m so tired of being bombarded and beat across the head by savagery” News flash, so am I. So, let’s talk about another ditch lives are thrown into.
By Grizzly Gentleman4 years ago in Criminal
The Last Green Light
All I could see was red. The glowing red traffic light in front of me was the only light for miles. It was the last light to freedom. But it's crimson gaze haunted me. It matched the seething red covering my own eyes, the blinding truth my mind was trying to justify. But I couldn’t think about it, I wouldn’t think about it. I just stared into the light willing it to change. Green. Change. Red.
By Kathryn Liddle4 years ago in Criminal
Terror on the Midway
Terror on the Midway By
By Jamey O'Donnell4 years ago in Criminal
Red and Green
A green light always meant go. Green seems to symbolize growth and wealth. Red means stop and blood and anger so why is it that when I said no he saw it as me waving a green flag saying go. I SAID NO! My eyes were a beacon of red, not a yellowish maybe go slowly and definitely not a green light so why did he continue. I don’t...I just don’t understand... I said no. He was the one who didn’t listen. Don’t you get a ticket when you drive past a red light?
By Michelle LJ4 years ago in Criminal
The Lord of Sudmoor Hall
I stood at the window and looked out at what had lately been my father’s estate. The sprawling park, the stables, the manicured gardens, the ponds and fountains—they were all mine now, though nothing was official. Not yet. But it was mine all the same, the estate, the house, the investments—everything that came with Sudmoor Hall. My brothers didn’t know it yet. But I did. It was destined to pass to me, as the eldest son. Flushed with contentment at the thought, I ran my eyes over this one small corner of the Earth that belonged to me and me alone. The trees were dead and spindly with the winter (an especially cold one), and all the ponds and fountains were frozen. One of those ponds in particular, guarded by a great, barren elm tree, demanded my constant attention. I just stood at the window… staring at that pond, while the others talked behind me.
By Michael Vito Tosto4 years ago in Criminal
The Corpse Under the Pear Tree
December 4, 1951 France- The car pulled up alongside a field flanking a long stretch of road. The usually green expanse of crops was now dusted with a thin layer of snow. Detective Lebeau peered out the windshield at the small conglomerate of figures crowded around the base of an old, wizened pear tree. He pulled his collar up over his ears and stepped out into the cold morning air.
By Robin Laurinec4 years ago in Criminal
