fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
Dear Tony Sanchez
“Dear Tony Sanchez, I was brought up never to wish harm or evil on anyone Mr. Sanchez. But you sir, are the devil. We have never been late on a single bill post-pandemic. Yet every day except Sundays, your bill collectors pack our mailboxes to the brim, and every fortnight you come by demanding the money we simply do not have. Even coming by my husband’s second job insisting to be paid. That is where the line has been drawn.Mr. Sanchez, we are not hiding anything from you. With the pandemic, we have been forced to quarantine which means we can no longer sell our dairy products at the farmer’s markets and small mom and pop shops. That was our main source of income. We can sell a few items to nearby homes but that is barely enough to keep food on the table let alone pay our rent towards you. With shops closed we have no way of purchasing our containers for the milk, we are solely relying on the profits made from selling cheese. Though we promise the moment things pick back up again we will give you your money. But for now, the harassment has to come to an end. If we were in any other predicament in our control, I would understand your determination on getting payment. You are trying to make a living just as we are. But you have several sorces of income under your belt and we only have the one which is already on it’s last leg. As we, like the rest of the country, are in financial hardships we just cannot control. Find it in your heart for some empathy and respect ~Myla Johnson “
By DeJanae Faison5 years ago in Criminal
The Real Wall Flower
“Hey Universe, it’s me again”. These words moved through the young woman’s mind. Like a breeze that rustles through trees. She did this regularly. She is a lost woman who lays in her bed at night talking to herself, wondering if she is crazy or if she is talking to a higher vibration of some sort. “Please lead me in the right direction, help me to see the truth I need to prevail in this life.” These are the types of words she spoke to herself at night, or in quiet moments throughout the day. As a child these rituals were similar but with variations of word play. The words sounded more like, “Dear God, thank you for this day please help me to not be scared, help mom make money and quit smoking. Help my Dad not be fat.” Even as a child she questioned her sanity while speaking to this higher entity. As the girl moved to adulthood, she questioned the existence of this entity that she gave her thoughts to. But the doubt of the existence of the higher being left almost as quickly as it came. And the doubt no longer mattered because in those moments of discussion with herself there is comfort.
By Aurielle Chell5 years ago in Criminal
Chores are the worst.
The mornings always started early for Portia. It was imperative that she was the first one up, which meant waking up earlier than Mr. Gamu. She didn’t think it was a stretch to suspect that he had some debt with the devil in his dreams because of his tumultuous relationship with sleep. The man consistently went to bed at midnight, and by three in the morning, he would be up scouring his vast domain - a six-bedroom pantheon of a house- searching for whatever he had lost in his dreams. Mr. Gamu’s early mornings meant Portia had to be up and ready at least fifteen minutes before, with a bucket full of water, slightly warmer than room temperature- as he liked it. Mr. Gamu had always insisted on bathing as soon as he woke up. It was essential, and Mr. Gamu promised it worked better than coffee (which, of course, was still a daily requirement right after the bath). He didn’t bother Portia much once he had received his coffee and his bed was done.
By Tinashe chikomo5 years ago in Criminal
From Rome To Berlin
Berlin had known that it was too good to be true. She should have known that money doesn't just fall in your lap. Especially when the money is attached to a little black book. She had watched enough scary movies to know that. Yet that didn't stop her from accepting the money and the terms. How much money do you ask? A whopping 20,000. Given that her and her long term boyfriend of 3 years were struggling financially it sounded like a good idea at the time. It was funny how quickly her mind changed after already spending a third of the money on her new living space, car, and decent clothing. She glanced over at Rome as he locked eyes with her. He knew what they needed to do. Having the book in hand he started to glance at the first thing that needed to be done on the list. Scribbled in bold letters the first sentence read as followed.
By Lioness Dadon5 years ago in Criminal
How It Started
It was a mild, gloomy day when Joseph Richardson stepped out of the taxi cab and onto the sidewalk. This wasn't unusual for Port City, Washington. Looking up he could see a small, tattered house rather out of place in an otherwise upscale neighborhood. The pale green paint had begun to fade and chip away, the white trim now turning brown from years of dust. The lawn was unkempt with patches of green and brown like a patchwork quilt. As he stood there, Joseph couldn't help but think of all the wonderful memories he had had here. With a labored sigh, he pushed open the barn red door and stepped inside.
By Gabriel Villegas5 years ago in Criminal
Little Black Book
I remember that Tuesday starting like any other Tuesday, with my arrival at TongueAss and a visit with Priscilla Hewlett on my schedule. My name is Jess Rupert and I am a Recreational Activity Worker at ToungeAss, which is slang used by the residents and staff at Tongass Retirement Villa in Juneau, Alaska.
By Jason Anderson5 years ago in Criminal
