fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
Happy Anniversary
I hate clichés. Everyone says they do, but they still buy twelve red roses on the 14th of February as if it means something more than they couldn’t come up with an original idea (even if they tried so hard it caused a delicious blood vessel to burst in their insignificant little brains) and the local 7/11 still happened to have some fresh ones left. So, when I found myself, without an umbrella, running through the rain in a tan trench coat that barely did enough to keep my clothes underneath from becoming drenched, heading to the 24/7 Diner on the edge of Connolly Street, looking like something out of a bad PI movie, nobody could have been more disheartened than I was.
By Clara Elizabeth Hamilton Orr Burns5 years ago in Criminal
Contraband
I pulled into the parking lot of the diner, this is where I was told that I might be able to score some product. The engine idled in my classic muscle car, it had always made too much noise in my opinion. Loud aggressive noise that I personally found abrasive. I twisted the key in the ignition, bringing a satisfying silence that I decided to bask in for just a moment as I rolled down the passenger side window just a crack. The driver side door creaked a low moan as I forced it open, allowing me to plant my boots on the ground. I looked up at the flickering neon sign that read 'Diner 4 All', the N, the R and the 4 weren't lit up, this was definitely the right place. I stood there for a moment and wondered if the technical difficulties were premeditated before I made my way towards the front door.
By Ethan Grimes5 years ago in Criminal
Give and Take
Chris shovelled another mound of dirt onto the heap. It was high now, unnaturally high. He could have stopped a while ago, but he was too paranoid. Scared that at any moment part of her arm would stick out of the dirt, exposed for anyone to see. The shoulder, the elbow, the hand…
By Apoorv Jaiswal5 years ago in Criminal
The Cook. Third Place in 24/7 Diner Challenge.
The small bells clatter hollowly as the glass door is thrust open, dangling like limp, bronze flowers from the door’s tarnished pull handle. I glance up past the stainless steel prep table with the chipped, weathered plates, past the service window glowing scarlet from the heat lamps above, past the haggard waitress with the six kids and the new waitress with the perky boobs hovering like flies by the battered hostess stand, and I see Thomas Inman hauling his bulky frame through the narrow doorway.
By Stephanie Nielsen5 years ago in Criminal
Green aprons and Blue Lights
Green aprons and Blue Lights by M. M. Atkinson I had just left my shift at Mimi’s café, a hidden gem on the outskirts of Portland. It wasn’t raining, but a cold mist prickled my neck from the cold. I shivered and pulled my sweater closer to my body for warmth. It was late spring, but the nights were too cold to be wearing only a sweater over my waitress uniform. I looked down at my forest green shorts and white shirt that was stained with what I could only hope was ketchup or gravy. I hurried to my car, tossing my stinky French fry scented apron onto the passenger seat of my old Ford Tempo.
By Melissa Atkinson5 years ago in Criminal
Freedom
Jailbreak Chapter 1 Roxanne, Roxanne I always fantasized about me lying on the beach as the sun grills my body, the sand in-between my toes and the water splash against my feet. I lived in a small town in Australia where everyone know each other and their business. I had an elderly neighbor, named Mrs. Worthy. When her husband died, I became like a second daughter to her, she died about 3 years ago. I lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling as the sun goes down and the moon comes up, thinking can my parents or Mrs. Worthy see how much pain I was in and are they finally rewarded me. Are they my guardian angels or am I simply crazy? I was born on March 14, 1995, the day was chilly, and my mother was nervous about having her first baby, but when I was born, she held me in her arms, looking down at me and she began to know that this wasn’t a mistake. My name is Roxanne fuller, but everybody calls me Ro. The second man who took advantage of me gave me that name. I’m twenty-five now, with a beautiful family and finally happy but it wasn’t always that way. My life will begin to unfold like a series of unfortunate events. My mother was as sweet as honey, had brown eyes and hair like the bay. My father was caring and sensitive. He was an electrician. He was a hardworking man and I didn’t see him much, but he always tried to spend every moment he had off work with me. I remember when I was five, every night he would read my favorite book, “Ella Enchanted” and when I fell asleep, he would go on and on about his childhood. On October 18, 2007, my father walked out of the front door and went to work like he always did. My mother told me to sit at the dining room table and wait for breakfast. I made my way to the table, pulled my chair out and sat down. The kitchen had a satisfying smell of maple syrup and black pepper. I can see her cooking eggs on the stove and some flapjacks sitting on the counter next to her. She took the pan off the eye of the stove, walked towards the table, and scraped the eggs onto my plate. Then she grabbed the flapjacks off the counter and placed two of them next to my eggs. As my mother sat down at the table, two large men kicked in our door. They made their way to the kitchen, put guns to our heads and forced us out of the house. A big black truck with tinted windows was at the end of our porch steps. They opened the doors and threw us inside. As they started to drive, my mother began to cry. Suddenly, my mother begins to bag on her window and screaming, “Please, someone help us”. The two men looked at her like she was crazy. One of the men slaps her across the face to keep her quiet. We arrive at this abandon warehouse, with broken windows and a lock on the front door handle. The two men escorted us out of the car while they held guns to our head and shoved us towards the building, with Intensity and seriousness in their eyes. One of the men walked in front of my mother and took the lock off the door handle. He opened the door as we began to look up, me and my mother saw something that was absolutely terrifying. My father was in the middle of the room, tied up to a metal chair, bleeding with cuts and bruises all over his face.” Don’t hurt them, please”, him crying out. I could never forget the look my mother had upon her face like she saw a ghost or something. I could only imagine why this was happening to us. Waterfalls of tears rushed down my face with confusion in my eyes and me yelling, “Why are you doing this? Who are you people? Come out and show yourself, please.” When I finished speaking, a big and tall man arose from the darkness and walked towards the light. As his face began to show, I saw this big nasty scar across his right eye. He spoke out, “Who I’m I, well I’m Killer and your Roxanne”, I looked at him, with fear in my heart and I said, “How did you know my name”, he replied and said, “I know everyone’s name, sweet heart and your father here, owes me money”. As his frustration began to rise, he lifted a gun to the back of my father’s head. I yelled, “Why are you doing this? what are you talking about?”, Killer lifts my father’s head by his chin with his gun and said, “Speak, mother fucka”. My father looked up at me with fear for all of us in his eyes and disappointment in himself, as he began to speak. “I’m addicted to drugs. After the financial crisis and I lost my job, to pay the bills I started to sell them and then I started to use them. I was going to pay him back, but when the deadline came, I just didn’t have enough”. Me and mother looking at my father with judgement and confusion in our hearts, thinking to ourselves, how could a man, who was like a gentle giant become such a monster, but I knew no matter what, I was willing to do anything. I spoke out in a hurry and said, “Killer I’ll do anything, if you promise to let me and my family go”, at first my mother and father spoke out and said, “ No, please”. Killer silenced them, by telling his goons to lift their guns to my parent’s heads. I yelled, “No, I have to do this. Don’t worry about me”. My mother and father cried and nodded in agreement, I said, “So, Killer do we have a deal”, he looked at me with a smile on his face and said, “deal”. At first, I was making runs and selling drugs, but not to my own knowledge he wanted more. One night he took me to this hotel in this white truck. At first glance it looked ran down and there was Junkies everywhere. We got out of the truck and he walked me up a flight of stairs towards a deserted hallway. We began to walk and then we stopped and stood in front of room, two-eleven. I got a queasy feeling in my stomach. The door handle had a “Do not Disturb” sign hanging on the silver door handle. He bent down, pushed my hair behind my ear and said,” Go in there, I got a new job for you”. I looked at him, with wonder written upon my face and an attitude in my throat and I said, “What is it”. He grabbed me by my throat, causing my body to lift off the ground and he said, “Just do what I tell you to do”. He began to release his grip off my neck and pushed me towards the door. I turned back to look at him, as he nodded his head to signal me to go inside of the room. I turned the doorknob, entered inside, and closing the door behind me. As I looked up to my surprise a heavy-set man with a bold head, sitting on the bed, a large stack of cash on the nightstand, next to the bed, with a white lamp next to it. My brain became blank and my back was against the door and I felt like my heart was beating on the outside of my chest. The man looked sweaty and a lot older than me. As he looked me up and down, he said, “What is your name”. I uttered, “My name is Roxanne”, he smiled. The man began to speak back to me and said, “Roxanne, that’s a beautiful name, for a beautiful girl”. I began to thank him, as he asked me to come closer. I started to cry, as I took the smallest steps towards him, he said, “Don’t cry, I won’t hurt you, I promise”. He grabbed me by my wrist, forcing me on my knees, pulled me close and whispered in my ear, “Shhhh, you want this money, right?”. I began to think, if this is what I must do to keep my family safe, then so be it. I nodded my head, very slowly, as tears rushed down my face like a waterfall and him forcing my head downward. He pulled my head back by my hair and said, “I ain’t got all day”. I began to unbuckle his belt off his pants, and he forced his penis inside of my mouth. When he was finally done, he yanked me by my hair, dragged me off of my knees, threw me on the bed, stood up, pulled up his pants, walked out of the room and left the door wide open. I curled myself into a ball like a turtle with his own shell at the end of the bed and began to cry. Soon, Killer walked in, with anger written upon his face. He began to take his leather belt off of his waste, puts it inside of his hand and began to raise his belt up in the air and said,” You wanna cry like a little bitch, I’ll give you something to cry about”. As the leather belt came down on me, hitting my silky-smooth skin, my heart begins to shatter as my skin begins to gape open all over my body as he continues to beat me. I start to scream in pain and more tears begin to fall, but he doesn’t care. When he was finish, he dragged me by my legs off the bed, out the room, down the hallway, to the stairs, murmuring underneath his breath, forcefully dragging me down the stairs. He opens the left car door and threw me in the back of the truck on the floor. I pick myself up and lie myself across the seats. I never could believe, how much I cried that night. I didn’t speak much after that. Killer never kept his promise to me. On April 15, 2008, Killer took me back to the abandon warehouse where my parents were beaten to death. As he took off my blindfold, he ordered his goons to shoot both of my parents in their heads. I began to scream in pain, as one of the goons grabbed me by my hand and escorted me back to the truck. After a year pass, he grown tired of me and decide to sell me to a man known as, Broker.
By Maresa Gillespie5 years ago in Criminal
He Deserved It
"What are we doing here", I asked Keith as the waitress came by and handed us each a cup full of hot black coffee. It was the kind of coffee that can only come from a 24/7 diner, that stale somehow very thin and watery liquid that makes you a little sad just by looking at it. Knowing I desperately needed the caffeine, I would drink it all anyways.
By Kaelyn Dibble5 years ago in Criminal
