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Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
A Tale of Two Black Books
Pete Rios turns his sub-woofer all the way up so he can feel the Swishahouse bass deep in his chest. He drives methodically through the streets of the low-income neighborhood where he grew up, able to dodge the large potholes with his eyes closed. He sees a Prius in the rearview nearly lose a wheel after driving straight into the pothole he just avoided. Pete couldn’t help but chuckle. “Damn gentrifiers – no street sense” he says aloud to himself before chuckling at his own pun.
By Michael Ramos5 years ago in Criminal
Little Black Book
Little Black Book It was early in the evening. I usually camp out every other Saturday to escape my busy life of work and school. It was always good to drop from the radar every now and then. It made my mind, body, and soul breathe. If anyone called or texted, they would get an automatic message stating, “I’m away at the moment, I will get back with you soon.” Most of them, don’t even bother to reach out because they notice the pattern. This was my routine. I go camping, fishing, and I set up my tent to sleep.
By Lauren A Barnes5 years ago in Criminal
The Debt.
A trail of red ooze marked the boy’s progress as he dragged the cloth sack full of remains out the door, his stomach rumbling despite the gruesome contents of the bag. The old woman had waited a few days for him to be available instead of spending a few coins to send a runner to bring him sooner, giving the bag’s contents time to ripen significantly.
By Jason Finnerty5 years ago in Criminal
George
George T. Allen was seventy years young when he finally decided to buy the farm. Not that he left on his own accord. In fact, it was something of a mandatory exit. A coup d’état. An involuntary overthrow and in George's mind a prototypical stealing of the reigns. You see, for a farmer, 'retirement' is a fluid term. It's a rather singular perspective. There’s work to be done, and there’s work that’s been finished.
By Colin Pattison5 years ago in Criminal
Written in Blood
There was this man who had a wife, they lived together and loved each other. His wife sadly past away, but there was this someone who had plans for him. A few days had pasted, nothing much the man did, but then there was a ring on the doorbell, he goes to check outside and sees a package. He didn't order a package so it was a bit confusing for him, he didn't think someone he knew had given him anything. He takes the box and goes inside, he then goes to the table, places the box and sits, he open the box and takes the item out. He takes a closer look, "It's a book..?" he says confused, he opens the book and sees money in it, he doesn't know what to say, but he notices writing. He takes out the money and looks at the writing, it has a chart of peoples names he knew, there were two rows of them with ten names each, he's confused. His fingers trace the names, each one then flips the page, "Rules" he looks at the first page then goes back "What-?" then he sees writing in the bottom, it says "For each kill is worth a thousand, try to waste the money or try to, your dead, if you don't kill all of the people on the book you are dead, kill or die." He gets a bit frighten, he chooses living rather then dying if he is honest to himself, he looks at the cash then to his hands. He was surprised with the names on the book, they were people he knew, he man was greedy for luxury, he was a fake man with a fake personality, he was blinded with greed for money. He didn't care much about his wife nor his close ones, murder was something, he didn't like it but for money yes, yes he wouldn't mind blood on his hands.
By Jerry Perez5 years ago in Criminal
BLACK
After endlessly working day shifts and some days; night shifts, I had become an animal. My only concern was surviving, providing for my family and I. Returning to college at 25 years old, on the verge of 26, was harder than it sounds. I was paying for classes and bills. My wheelchair-bound father had surgeries and medicine that he needed to have, and as a family, no matter how destitute we were, we had no intention of letting our dad miss out on treatment just because it was expensive.
By AJ Baptiste5 years ago in Criminal
Luck
Elliot gleefully walked out of his favorite comic book store, the Comics Castle. His hand gripped the newest edition of The Mischief Thief; sure his wallet was lighter but now he would know what would happen to the thief in the story. The plot had captivated him from the first page, a detective who became a thief to help out those in need. Elliot had always been interested in Robin Hood-esque heroes that lived by the code of helping the poor and eliminating those whose greed had caused the world to become rotten. Not wanting to wait any longer he dug his face into the pages as he walked back home, admiring the detail of the artwork. Being too enthralled with the pages, he didn’t see a man coming his way. With a sudden bump, the comic fell to the ground out of his hand.
By Jose Gomez5 years ago in Criminal
Me and Alan
Hey what are you doing here? Douglas asks me with a rudeness that takes me aback. I'm sorry, he says, it's just that I wasn't expecting you to be here. I am here Douglas, to pay my respects to a fellow human being. Besides, Alan was a good frenemy of mine. "Frenemy", Douglas uses the douchebag quotes in the air. Yeah, we couldn't help but compete with each other, I tried hard to be comfortable around him but we always ended up arguing over something stupid. I think there was an insidious spirit of competition between us. Now that he's gone, who am I supposed to banter with? Douglas looked visibly uncomfortable, then excused himself and made a sprint to the food table. I looked around, everyone looking appropriately sad, moving slowly, I was bored. I thought, what the hell, I would check out Alan's house. First, I'd eat my weed to calm my ass down, seeing Douglas stressed me out. He knows that I hated Alan half of the time and showing up to his funeral was probably bad form to him. Who cares, Douglas is an a-hole who married his high school sweet skank and had two mediocre babies. What a loser. I was curious about Alan's house. He was such a private guy, he never invited me over. I slowly walked up the stairs, they were carpeted so I barely made noise. I turned the corner and there I see his master bedroom. I hurriedly walk across the balcony and make my way inside and shut the door. What a psycho! His room was as neat as the demons in his head. Then I saw it. A black book, it was kind of beautiful, it was made of soft leather with a slim leather strap that wrapped around it. I didn't know Alan journaled, the things you find out when someone kicks the bucket. There was a small sliver of a torn piece of paper underneath the strap. I pulled out the paper and there was one word written on it, "chuckcherry". I immediately knew this was for me. I had problems saying the word charcuterie, those boards that have cheese, meat etc, Alan thought it was hysterical how I had pronounced it. I opened the soft black book and what I saw were a list of dares so it seemed. As I always do, I flipped to the last page and there it was. Dearest friend (how did he know I looked at the last page of any book), this black book is my own little nightmare crafted just for you. Upon completion, you can contact my attorney listed here and you will be promptly cut a check for three hundred thousand dollars. Do not think about cheating, I have people watching. Love, Alan.
By Lisa Munley5 years ago in Criminal
A Once Felled Warrior
Amelia is sitting at the coffee shop a few doors down from her Chicago apartment. A crappy little apartment, cold, and stone. Only a few pieces of furniture to keep her company, furniture they picked out together, that of course she paid for, but was happy to do so, because she was helping to build their life together. That was at the beginning, when he made her feel loved and put smiles, not bruises on her face.
By Alana Everhart5 years ago in Criminal
