fiction

Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.

Old Times
Kate’s best, most reasonable, attainable dream home, was an aging castle of her own, in the quickly gentrifying neighborhood just east of downtown Kansas City, MO. There is even a national TV reality show about this area, called “Bargain Mansions”! In which a young blonde woman and her dad buy run down old Victorians, rehab it themselves and turn them into upscale Millennial Mansions.
By Sharon Cathers5 years ago in Criminal
For Freedom
Freedom lived in a house on September. She was the type of girl that asked too many questions, and stuck her nose everywhere. I think that’s why she got killed. Rumor has it the Kirkpatrick’s tied her up and threw her body off of Pt. Pier. I can just picture Billy Joe standing there, lighting up a cigarette and hopefully getting cancer. His breath reeked of trash and urinals. Road kill.
By Jenny 5 years ago in Criminal
Background 756
Hey, you know me. That guy you're always sitting across from on the subway, or bus or whatever you take. Or maybe you sit in your car or Uber alone to ponder your own life problems because you are just too good to see how much harder the rest of us have it. It doesn't matter how you get to where you go. Point is, I'm that guy. The one who is always in the background of everyone else's life. I see everything, and I draw it. I see everyone's happy little moments with their kids. I see guys yelling at their wives on the phone. Last week I saw someone call their husband only to have another woman answer. That was neat. I see people so concerned about what they are doing that day that they pay no mind to anyone else. Their day is all about them.
By Jeffrey Podany5 years ago in Criminal
Tesorino
The sweltering heat of another summer’s day bore into Edmundo de Santi’s back as he strode into the market. Sweat coated his body, soaking through his once-white button down shirt. That always seemed to happen to people living in Cessirae. Finery went to waste faster than money changed hands in the back alleys of the city. No one was rich or poor in Cessirae, they just were. At least, that’s what the government tried to shove down it’s people’s throats from their ivory pulpets.
By Reegan Wolford5 years ago in Criminal
My First Reader Was A Bank Robber
It sounded like a combat zone. Instead of bullets and gunfire: shopping carts skittering along the marble floor, scanners beeping and booping, children that were told no, crying.
By A.L. Washington5 years ago in Criminal
The Book In The Bag
Allison buckled her fanny pack to her waist and strode to the back of the bar. She set the alarm, stepped into the alley, and locked the door. An athletic man staggered towards her as she turned around. He clutched a small paper bag in one hand and clasped one side of his neck with the other hand. Blood gashed around his hand and fingers. He pinned her bodily to the door, pushing the paper bag into her hand.
By Justin Holt5 years ago in Criminal
Hello, Good Father
It has never occurred to the priest that the smell of a church could be ruined by words. This particular scent has always comforted him, evoking memories of stillness and comfort. The smell of old tarnished wood, gently and lovingly polished, and the light odor of dust settling over instruments and iconography have always signaled home to him.
By farmills5 years ago in Criminal
So Many Questions
Shellie Halverson never knew her mom had belongings in a storage unit. Her mom had died nearly five years ago; the letter Shellie received from the U-Sav-It warehouse on Monday was a total surprise. Her mom had always lived a minimalist lifestyle. Why did she need a storage unit? Her mom had apparently prepaid five years’ worth of rent. A payment was due by the end of the month or the contents would be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Shellie thought about letting her mom’s stuff go, but curiosity overcame her common sense. She Googled directions to the warehouse and planned to go after work on Tuesday.
By Kim Schaefer Lehnhoff5 years ago in Criminal
The Yolanda Hotel, 1933
It rained steadily the night they crossed the border. Bill drove, easing the car over the patchwork dirt road, with Jack at his side. A thin film of red dust lifted into the air behind them and concealed the endless line of telephone poles strung along the horizon like thin black crosses. With the rain came mud, and in the mud their pace slowed.
By Q H5 years ago in Criminal
Full Circle
The ‘dead of night’ is an apt term for those fleeting few hours of early morning when the world stops because right now, even though I’m beside a highway, it’s quieter than a cemetery. The darkness around me is thick enough to touch. A waxing crescent moon hangs high in the sky. I continue walking.
By Cam Brierley5 years ago in Criminal
Fussin'
Clem was fussin’. Didn’t make no nevermind whether he wanted it or didn’t, when a foul mood struck him, he would start to fussin’. He had just spent a stone cold week in the snowy hilltops miles from the town, sifting and digging through ice cold water and frozen dirt and had never seen a wink of nugget. The people in town frequently laughed at his failed efforts in searching for gold, another week with not a flake to show for it wouldn’t change a thing.
By Stephen Jackson5 years ago in Criminal
Leonardo's Notebook
I had settled in a small suburb of Florence to undertake my studies and escape my previous life in England. I was on a scholarship to study Painting at the Florence Academy. My family wanted me to study Business, although their intentions were not entirely selfless.
By will arthur5 years ago in Criminal