fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
The Bull of New York
It was a starry night in New York City and Janice Dunken was waiting on the subway for a train to take her home. After a long day in the office, the idea of going home to a nice warm bed and burying herself underneath the covers was a dream that could not come soon enough.
By Vonnie Posnakidis4 years ago in Criminal
There Will Be Porcelain
"Like a bull in a china shop!" I overhear the conversation of two passing strangers. I wonder if this had ever actually happened. Had a bull ever been in a china shop? Who let it in? In what time and place were there shops dedicated to just china, and in which of these situations were there also so many bulls wandering around that they were ending up in people's shops?
By J.T. Kelleher4 years ago in Criminal
The Trial of Kendra Adams
Chapter One “Who’s that?” A beautiful woman with cafe au lait skin walked in the room. She set her briefcase down and began talking to Giordan. I studied her closely. Her long hair was in a sleek ponytail and she wore a black and beige dress that frilled in the middle and accentuated her coke bottle figure. She had big brown eyes that were supported with thick false lashes. Her lips were very full and were lined with brown liner and coated with clear gloss. I recognized that technique because My sister had shown me years ago.
By Josaline Radley4 years ago in Criminal
The Pear Tree
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Jenny Saxton stared blankly out the window towards the lonely pear tree sitting at the far corner of the back yard. It was a gloomy day as usual, the rain would set in soon and she was alone and sad. She was always sad in this place, she hated it here with every fiber of her being and longed for home.
By Wayne Coolidge4 years ago in Criminal
Bathroom Buddies
Getting off the street was the most important thing to me. It didn't matter that the place was a dump, it was still better than living on the streets. It was advertised as a studio apartment. I wouldn't say it was much of a studio, more of a room with a hot plate and mini fridge and a shared bathroom. Most importantly they did not ask for references. My little home was located over a coin laundry. In the winter, I knew, the heat from the air vents would help keep me warm but, I also knew, those same vents were going to make the summers brutal. None of that mattered, it was mine and it was safer than any ally or dumpster I could find to sleep in. My job at the bakery didn’t give me enough money to pay my bills and furnish my room, which meant I needed to be creative on furnishing it. I struggled pulling a couple of palates from behind the laundry so that the old mattress that was left in the room would not have to lay on the floor. My night stands were from blue milk crates I carried home from behind the bakery. For the rest of the items I knew, I needed to be a little more creative. Waiting until way after the nearest thrifty store closed and everyone had left, I scavenged through the donations that were placed outside the store and had not been brought inside the building. I didn’t figure this was stealing because the store had not processed them yet, therefore they really hadn’t been given to them yet. Well, that is how I racialized it as not stealing. I only took what I truly needed, a couple of blankets, a dish, pan, silverware, a couple changes of clothes I would need for work and more importantly an alarm clock.
By Kathleen Kile4 years ago in Criminal
