fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
Little Black Book
Today started like everyday for the past month now. Me sitting at the dining room table robbing peter to pay paul. To keep the roof over my head. I was one of the unlucky ones that lost their job due to this pandemic. I worked at a small family owned diner. We were forced to shut down, the owner tried to stay open. The laws prevented that. We were forced to find other employment or file for unemployment. I was still waiting to hear something from unemployment. I called everyday and still havent gotten a letter, check, nothing. So this is what I do everyday to try to figure out ways to make money. I'm not very crafty so that's not an option. I can't even be a stripper. I have no rhythm.
By Tashayla Eubanks5 years ago in Criminal
Midnight stroll
On a Thursday night, a young woman could be seen thundering down the streets. One could have said that she seemed distressed by the way she walked, but in reality, she was terrified. In the last hours, she had seen more than anyone could ever imagine. To understand we need to go back to this very morning, where it all begin.
By Blanche Henes5 years ago in Criminal
Nemesis
I kept it in a false drawer within my desk. An old, black Moleskine notebook that I’d been given many years earlier. At first, I used it to record events that I wanted to note, or memorable statements or quotes I wished to record and be able to refer back to. Sometimes when I was travelling, for work or on holiday, I’d write down times, places, even meals, that seemed worthy of inclusion in my little black book.
By Stephen Flynn5 years ago in Criminal
Doing Laundry
I ran. Fast. The cascading darkness of the city streets blurred past as I set an unnatural pace. Only the shine of a few decrepit streetlamps, flickering intermittently, exposed my surroundings as I dodged turned over garbage cans and boxes of God knows what. I knew these streets well, as I had walked home through them a few hundred times, but this time was different, this time I was running, and this time I was being chased. My lungs worked like a bellows, moving swaths of air in and out, trying to keep up with my legs. The adrenaline coursing through my veins reigned paramount over my body keeping me moving forwards. Logic and will had abandoned me, as fear consumed my mind and the animal instincts of fight or flight ruled. And for a 24-year-old, five foot nothing, female in a, shall we say, substantially seedy part of town picked flight every time. As I approached an alley to my right, I paused a moment, partly to catch my breath, which had long ago escaped me, and partly to check if my pursuers were still hot on my tail. I looked back and saw light bouncing up and down off the walls of the building I had just passed and heard voices and the heavy breath of at least three men. I looked down at what I towed in my left arm, which was burning from the weight of a large cylindrical black duffle bag bulging on all sides from its contents. I took one last lengthy inhale and darted down the alley.
By Tyler deMey5 years ago in Criminal
The Last Gift
I pulled my jacket tight around me against the chill. My breath plumed in big clouds in front of me as I walked toward the house. The sun shone weakly, barely above the rooftops of the tidy houses in the quiet neighborhood. I walked up to the gate of the six-foot wooden fence and pulled the string that opened the inner latch. I shouldn’t be here, I thought. I had been telling myself to turn around, to let it go, to close this chapter and get on with my life. For weeks now. Ever since the judge had made the ruling and the fight was over. But I couldn’t. It was my house, and I worked hard for it and everything within its walls. I just couldn’t let it go yet. There was one more thing I had to do.
By Delaney Peterson5 years ago in Criminal
The Cold Tile Floor
She couldn’t believe he was actually gone. As she walked back into the home they’d shared for four years, she was flooded with memories. It was his house, but it was almost completely bare when she moved in, so she was the one who decorated and made it feel like a home. He had worked as a police officer for 22 years and was close to retirement. For the last eight years, he’d trained every new cop in their small town. They were completely infatuated with each other, and every moment felt like the stuff of fairy tales.
By LJ Livingston5 years ago in Criminal
Our Story
Jennings having lived most of his life in some of the bigger city was now calling the quiet little town of Wheats town; in the middle of nowhere Indiana, home. The Complex was the biggest apartment complex in; not only the town, but the county. The Complex is a rather quiet little three story building, close to the center of town. Once a rather bustling factory making fencing, tubing and wiring; now it is affordable living units for multiple families.
By Jeremiah W. Hudson5 years ago in Criminal
