fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
The Mysterious Case of Dr. William Packman
An air of indescribable darkness prevailed in the Packmans’ home on the morning of February 5th, 1956. Martha Packman had never before heard her mother, Victoria, utter as earth-shattering a scream as she did then.
By LA Dating Chronicles5 years ago in Criminal
'Slight' of Hand
“I can’t bloody believe this Quinn…” David kept fluttering his fingers, his hands clammy as he paced in the room. Water seeped in from the ceiling in the corner, the smell of mildew thick on the air as the incessant drip, drip, drip echoed like a distant drummer.
By Christopher Gabriel5 years ago in Criminal
The Evidence
A cool trickle of blood slides down the centre of his index finger. He watches the crimson liquid catch on the edge of his palm before licking the line away. The metallic taste coats the tip of his tongue, distracting him from the tightness wrapped around his chest.
By Shenae Mazure5 years ago in Criminal
Little black book
Austin woke to an obnoxious bang on his front door. He quickly hurried to put on his shirt and rushed to the door to see who it could be. As the door opened Austin realized it was barely pass dawn as the sun was still hidden behind a few clouds.
By Alhtheah Marrah5 years ago in Criminal
Secret
It was the worst day of my life, but it was the day that changed everything. Sitting here on my living room floor, I continue to relive the misery that has unfolded over the past few days. I had just been laid off from my job at Infinity Plus Bank after 5 long years of dedication. It had nothing to do with my performance, I was assured. But after months of deliberation, the big boss on top decided to restructure my department, rendering my position in the company obsolete. “It’s just business”, I was told.
By Natassia Lawrence5 years ago in Criminal
Mother Undercover
The day had been chaotic. Mondays usually are. Getting the kids ready for school, dressed, breakfast, brushing their teeth, then finally gathering up the homework putting it in the backpack with the sack lunch I had made. There were complaints from John because he wanted to buy lunch with his friends. I explained again how we could not afford it as we bunched up and crowded through the door. I had to make sure everyone was there. Levi did not like to go to school so I had to make sure he did not sneak back in the house when I was rushing to get the kids in the car. “Headcount”, I said as I turned around before I put on my seatbelt. “1, 2, 3, Oh where is Levi?” I asked John as he is the oldest.
By Trycia Lino5 years ago in Criminal
Mailbox #36
The wind blew the yellow stained curtains, letting in spots of sunlight into the small, hazily lit, loft. She rolled over on her floor-ridden mattress to face the broken window. The children across the street had sent a baseball through it while waiting for the bus a few days ago. She was thankful that it was summer, giving her more time to find the money to pay for the expenses before it became too cold. The light danced across her sheets as it created a rainbow-reflected spectacle. She sighed, sitting up, stretching, and with hesitation, the girl glanced around her apartment. Clothes were thrown around the room, the only furniture spotted was a mattress, a small table, a lamp, and she could still hear the water tap down from the leaky faucet in the bathroom. A younger woman she was, on her own, with nothing to her name but somehow still found the courage to carry on every day. A light yawn woke her up slightly as she rose out of bed and into the kitchen for a glass of water. The kitchen, not spaced out further than a few feet in an open square shape, gave her a sense of accomplishment. She didn't have much, but it was hers. She looked out her perch of a window onto the bright Manhattan streets. Children were running up the street playing hopscotch or jump rope while parents chatted on building steps about the neighborhood gossip. The mailman waved at her from down below, and she gave a kind smile in return. Stepping towards the door, she slipped on her shoes and pulled on a sweatshirt over her messy hair. She grabbed the doorknob to pull but tripped over a small object on the floor. Out of slight frustration, she closed her eyes and hung her head low expecting much worse than the little black book she found lying between her feet. With an inquisitive look on her face, the girl bent down to pick it up. She rubbed her hand over the cover and turned it over a couple of times. It couldn’t have been bigger than a small notepad like the ones she found at the bodega down the street. “Peculiar, “ she whispered to herself. Gently, she opened the book to the first page. It read:
By Elizabeth Staie5 years ago in Criminal
