fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
Confessions of a notebook owner
“This is too good to be true”, she thought to herself, “There must be a catch” She looked again at the special wrapper on the cover of the little black notebook she had picked up in the book shop and it definitely said that you could win $20,000 in a writing competition. All you had to do was write a short story about someone suddenly getting that amount of money. It seemed simple enough and there was so much she could do with that money but what was the point? She never won competitions.
By jacqueline mitchell5 years ago in Criminal
Memories of Moscow
I was walking back to my apartment from the metro. I’d spent the weekend in St. Peterburg, trying to make the most of my time in Russia while I worked to adopt my cover as a student. Pretending to be a tourist is an easy cover to maintain when you actually enjoy being there.
By Shayne French5 years ago in Criminal
Wales Grim
There are two of us now. It used to be four. Four cots, four inmates. There are only two now. Me, and a city boy named Frank. The others, whose names I forget, were taken weeks ago. I'd only just arrived here on the island when they were escorted out of the cell, one after the other.
By Joachim Mizrahi 5 years ago in Criminal
Little Black Book
I went through my lockbox doing a tally on how much I had saved. My mom and her boyfriend were fighting in the next room about something trivial, I’m sure. I returned to counting and was pleased to know by my next paycheck I will have enough money to leave this living hell.
By Nicole Brooker 5 years ago in Criminal
Favourite Notebook
The restaurant is busy. It’s lunch time. People are starting to go out again. There are as many people as there can be in this tiny place. Masks are worn but it’s permitted to take them off when you sit down. The tables are generously spaced apart. The waiters all wear double face coverings and place your food items using a long reach. I am used to it all now: masks, wearing big coats so the restaurants can leave the doors and windows open. When I do go out, I like sitting outside under a heat lamp.
By Dianne Carruthers Wood5 years ago in Criminal
Wednesday
Kylie, an avid coffee drinker, was up bright and early as usual to prepare her first cup of joe. With raving thoughts about the day ahead of her, she becomes preoccupied in her trance, burning her wrist on the plate of the coffee maker. "What the?", Kylie screams. Looking at her red, swelling right hand, she fights back tears from the pain. The stinging of the injury brought Kylie back to 7:20 AM of the Wednesday morning she had left behind for the deep daydream. Running to the medicine cabinet in her oversized bathroom for supplies to treat her burn, Kylie trips over her work bag. “Am I going to get out the door in one piece?" Using her left hand to pick up the items that had fallen onto the hardwood floor of her luxurious apartment, she stops abruptly. She notices a black notebook that she had never seen before that day and began to drift away in a sea of possibilities of how it ended up in her satchel-style bag. With her right hand still throbbing, she grabs the notebook and continues through the hallway where her bathroom is located. Clinching onto the notebook as if it were her most prized possession, she carefully used her injured hand to gather her first aid kit and headed towards the yellow chaise lounge chair at the foot of her bed.
By Latoya Thomas5 years ago in Criminal
An Disgruntled Writer
Paris of the present day was much changed; it had lost all touch with the magic of the Lost Generation. Either that or the charms Hemingway, Fitzgerald and Porter musingly reported of had never existed. She had been a fickle, unprofitable muse for his days - the City of Lights, its avenues, sights and even French belles blended into the background cacophony of a dilettante's neurosis. The money was spent. Writing had not gone. Time, labour were proven fruitless.
By James B. William R. Lawrence5 years ago in Criminal
Elastic Ties
She closed the notebook and softly traced her fingers over the smooth surface of the black leather cover. Her focus drifted slightly to the left where Belinda’s closet was perfectly tidied with her tops organized by sleeve length. The shoes were pristinely paired and stacked up to the ceiling. On her right, Travis’ closet door was closed.
By Julie Miller5 years ago in Criminal
