fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
The Killer in the Closet
“Tell me, Father, who would want to break in here? Some druggies, you figure?” The dusty floor of the tiny chapel showed the footprints of a single person, moving from a broken window on the right to an open cabinet built into the wall on the left. How dull was this cop to think this one set of footprints belonged to “some druggies” -- plural. And I had to marvel why the cop did not observe that the footprints only went up to the cabinet and then ended there. Where were the footprints leading back outside, or to a hiding place? Nowhere. The same nowhere in which this cop’s brain was presumably located.
By Bennett Barouch5 years ago in Criminal
Justice Rising
She could’ve been anything she wanted. She wanted her life back. She didn’t want glory or fame. She wanted justice. She never was one for the spotlight, but she noticed everything. She had been trained that way. Despite vivid memories seared into her brain, she took notes. Her favorite place, her black Moleskine notebook. Smooth texture, clean lines, elastic band marking her place, detailing justice sought, and stories of corruption complete with sketches, names and sources.
By Justice for All5 years ago in Criminal
The Last One Out
A house in Texas holds a special dinner party once every month for 7 lucky individuals. The dinner party last for a whole week where someone potentially leaves with twenty million dollars. The only catch is, each guest will have to play a game of Russian roulette. Everyone is served an amazing meal knowing one plate is poisoned. They have every chance to leave the home if they value life over money, but who really values life now a days? The only rule is they are not allowed to bring in any belongings; in case someone tries to sneak in medicine to wave the chances in their favor. And so, the annual Texas dinner party begins, will you accept an invitation, or will you take your dinner plans somewhere else?
By Jackie Villa5 years ago in Criminal
The New Job
When they told me what the job was I thought that it was April Fools' Day, but, the clock on the wall of the office said February 20th. If they had been joking with me, they wouldn’t have given me 20,000 dollars just to start. One day I'm homeless, and the next I’m wearing an expensive suit and following around politicians all day. I walk down the back alleyway, black notebook in hand, and stop just as I reach the window. I follow my mentor, who expressed his dislike of me the first time we shook hands. I know he knows who we’re following, it’s probably in his black notebook, but he won’t tell me.
By Mikai Bryant5 years ago in Criminal
1893
The year was 1900, a cold year for the miners of Fairview, Utah, who were traveling to Winter Quarters in search of work. One particular night, I remember my father Joel Benson, who worked this mine just a year ago, before tragically passing in an explosion. When we arrived at the camp, the Supervisor told me that I needed to go see Howard down in the Eye Pit. He handed me a cracked white helmet, with the name Ashcroft written on it. As I entered the mine, the coal felt as if heavy stone filled my chest, making it harder to breathe the deeper I went. The elevator creaked and squealed as it lowered deeper into the pit. When I reached the bottom, a man covered in black dust towered over me. In a deep stern voice, he said "Boy! what are you doin' down here?! Don't tell me you're the new Dog!" After a few minutes of talking, he instructed me to grab chocks and to bring them to the end of the tunnel. 14 hours later, work was done for the day. We all went back to the surface to clean up and ready up for supper. A few days pass and Howard looked at me confused and asked why I came out here for work. I told him "My Pa died, and left me some stuff for me and my siblings." I pulled out a picture of the family, and Howard jumped up and exclaimed "Oh shoot! That's your Pa? Joel is your Pa! Hahahaa.." As we sat there, we continued to talk over the crackling fire. I learned all of Pa's belongings were in a tent, that was once his sleeping quarters. As I entered the tent, the first thing I noticed was a wooden chest beside his cot. Noticing that the chest was locked, I searched for a key, which was not to be found anywhere. So, I grabbed a pickaxe and broke the lock. Inside the chest, there was a photo, an astonishing amount of cash, cigarettes and under a false floor, was a Black Notebook and a Remington Model 1890. The photo read: "August 18, 1893. The Butch Boys. The Last Ride."
By David Chadwick5 years ago in Criminal
Beyond
We had been following her for at least twenty minutes now, with no signs of anyone noticing, let alone the girl. She seemed ordinary enough – young, slight build, nondescript features. Best of all she was alone and heading in the opposite direction of the normal day's end crowd, meaning she was from the slum district, making this even easier. Stealing from a girl who most likely had nothing began to set me on edge, but I brushed the thought aside.
By Marissa Halsey5 years ago in Criminal
