fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
Someone Special
Avart lay sprawled out on the sand as he marveled at the beauty before him. The sun sat high on its lofty throne in the blue sky as it scattered tiny diamonds amongst the waves and sands. The sight alone was enough to stop a philosopher mid-contemplation and force them to smell the salty roses. It wasn’t even the natural spectacle of the beach that had him captivated though. Nor was it the calm breeze that tenderly wafted all of his worries away. It was his wife; the brightest diamond in the sea. There she stood, halfway submerged in the water, her sun-kissed skin glimmering like a finely cut gem; her long fluffy hair billowing in the wind.
By Kevin Sukraj5 years ago in Criminal
Moleskine's Classic Notebook
This was him. This was the villain of our story. The young woman’s gaze transfixed on the portrait. Kassandra Katz, nicknamed Kit-Kat by her Father, stood alone in the museum while nervously playing with her deceased mother’s wedding ring. In front of her hung two portraits, one of Hitler—and one of Liam MacCullagh…
By Jeslyn Rain5 years ago in Criminal
Little Black Book
Moving to Aurora, Illinois was not easy. Especially, when you do it in a rush. Especially, when you do it in the middle of the night. Months before Her spontaneous move, She had packed a bug-out bag . . . just in case. It helped. A little. Finding work as a Waitress in nearby Naperville was easier than the move. Lots of privately owned restaurants. Most of the kitchen staff was paid under the table, so what was one more illegal employee. An employee with such a pretty face and arousing smile convinced the owners and the customers that She really, really cared if the mugs were full of coffee and the wait station was full of ice. Beauty and a good work ethic can make you enough money in the restaurant industry to live on. For a while.
By Thomas J Leavy II5 years ago in Criminal
Robert’s Final Wish
John walked out of the prison his heart feeling as heavy as the metal door he heard slamming closed behind him. In his arms, he carried a box containing Robert’s personal belongings and it was a heartbreaking realization that everything tangible that Robert had valued would fit into this small box. Robert became more than a client to John over the last ten years. They talked about football, John’s kids, the ins and outs of cooking things in prison, and life in general. As he left the prison after watching Robert die, John could honestly say that he would greatly miss his friend.
By Nancy Robbins Palombi5 years ago in Criminal
Marcus
Every evening in the city a bottle of blueish black ink would spill and make a mess of the sky. When the ink got thick enough, small stars would punch their way through. It was comical, everything in the city had an aggressive way about it. The pedestrians walked along the concrete sidewalks like they believed the slabs might give way to their heels. The dogs barked from behind raw wooden fences tirelessly, and some believed one day they might bark so long the gates would crumble in defeat. Then there were the buildings. They were hard geometric shapes that stood defiant of the ground. The only character they had was in their square windows and a shade so lifeless it must have been painted to match the city smog.
By Katie Zember5 years ago in Criminal
Unexpected circumstances
Wait, no, I shouldn’t be doing this, no wait I should I need the money, but I’m not a bad person right? No because if I was a bad person I wouldn’t be doing this with good reason. Or maybe I am. Wait a minute, pacing back and forth, rapid pulse, rapid breathing and oh I feel like I’m going to puke. Ok, pull it together Flynn you’re in shock. “Flynn! Flynn!” Someone yelled from the background. Still unable to grasp what’s going on I stood silent, thinking. Looking anxiously, my eyes seem to have found themselves staring at the automatic pistol in my hand. “Flynn, the safety deposit boxes NOW!” Ram demanded. “HEY! (yelled the smallest guy I’ve ever seen) move again and I’ll put this little knife of mine right between your eyes and then we’ll see how well your third eye perceives your current situation.” With anxiety overpowering me I find myself in the vault with the bank manager. I need boxes 316, 174, 118, and 256 open now. “Myself alone couldn’t open those boxes miss, they have a dual control system”, said the bank manager. Are you married, what is it, “Kyle”? “No”, said Kyle. Hey that’s strike two. I saw the family photo on your desk. Beautiful blonde by the way. I hope you’re interested in red heads because if you lie to me again i’m gonna put a bullet through the back of her head. Simultaneously thinking to myself, will he go for it, I could never do something so awful, but it seemed to work for the small guy in the lobby. His eyes took on a haunted look, gloss like as if a tear was soon to fall, his jaw trembled in fear and then a sudden rush of lemon colored fluid began to flow down his leg and fill his patent leather shoes. I stared feeling mischievous. “I’m sorry”, said Kyle. Listen we don’t have time for apologies. “Ok ok, I’ll do it. I’ll open the boxes”, he said.
By Kevin Thomas 5 years ago in Criminal
Stolen
I slowly opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling. My head was throbbing and I had a ringing in my ears. The lighting was so dim that it took my eyes several minutes to acclimate to the gloom. I slowly sat up and winched in agony. I clutched my hand to my side and let out a small whimper, the pain was so intense that I couldn’t even manage a scream. I gingerly lifted up my shirt and saw that I had a bandage haphazardly wrapped around my lower abdomen. The part of my side that I had touched had faint traces of red soaking through. I lowered my shirt and looked around at my surroundings but there wasn’t much to look at. I was sitting on a bed that was like an extension of the wall with an old stained mattress on it. There was a small desk and chair facing me and a small bedside table right by the bed with a rusty lamp on top of it. I shuffled over to the lamp, clenching my jaw every time I moved too quickly. I pushed the switch on and tilted the light up to get a better look at the room I was in and regretted it.
By Emma Diane McManus5 years ago in Criminal
A murderer´s letter.
Last year, I was forced to write an article regarding a certain curious character in the area of the silent crime, who considered himself a vigilante, a container for the voice of the divine, a judge and the executioner himself. Within my investigations, I found unpublished evidence that shows the nature of the dementia of the man I am talking about and despite my past soliloquies concerning whether I should publish my findings or not, I decided to share with my audience the eccentricity of this character, as well as the danger of his thinking. Here is what I managed to recover from the old letter:
By Richard Wilcox5 years ago in Criminal
Rouge
Entry 1 - June 2nd, 1997 I felt taken care of, but it always felt lonely. I loved my husband with all my being, yet it seems his thoughts are always transfixed onto his art, as if there can only be one masterpiece in his life. As I write and write, it feels as though this journal knows more of me than anyone else, the pages openly receiving my desires, my sorrows, and the woman in me that nobody desires to invest in, to uncover. The textured black cover like the gatekeeper to my heart, each thick, unwavering page a vessel for my very blood and soul to be poured out into.
By Naomi Samuel5 years ago in Criminal
