fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
The Periwig Poacher Strikes Again
The Periwig Poacher Strikes Again The sign reads H.G. Higglebottom Memorial Botanical Garden, but it is more like a nature preserve than a garden. The walls and peaked roof of the garden are massive plates of glass held together with cleverly engineered steel beams and rivets; they enclose an area densely packed with plant and animal life, the space roughly equal to three shovelball stadiums—room enough to spend an entire day stalking your quarry. The hot, damp air inside the structure combined with the thrill of the hunt brings a sweat to your face and neck. Crouching in the underbrush, you pause only long enough to wipe your face and take a quick pull from your canteen. Peering up into the lush canopy overhead you can see several species of exotic birds and boisterous primates, but the creature you seek neither climbs nor flies and prefers open spaces to trees and shrubbery. Concentrating on the ground beneath you as well as the branches and leaves and twigs surrounding you, you creep silently toward the open area that winds its way through the garden.
By Phillip Merrill6 years ago in Criminal
A Message worth a life
Chapter: 1 the kidnapping One o'clock in the afternoon on a cloudy day in the city of roses Savannah gets out of class early. They had a test and she finished early so she decided to head home. On her way to the parking lot, she noticed a sign with a red cross symbol on it right outside the door.
By keyontay wallace6 years ago in Criminal
Searching for a Villain
The world seems out of control sometimes. Well for me it's always out of control. I don't know who I am or who I want to be. I know I have a purpose for being here, I just don't know what that is right now. Ever since I lost my best friend I've been trying to exist in a world where it's just me and my thoughts. Trust me my thoughts are pretty dark. But I'm existing, I'm living and waking up everyday searching for my purpose. Every story has a villain, well mine is my own mind-my thoughts. I battle my darkness away each day and it is not easy.
By Yelisa Espinal6 years ago in Criminal
The Room
George stood outside on the balcony. In the distance, a sign read Welcome to Miami in stark white letters. Underneath, in spray paint, it continued bien venido a Miami. Palm trees lined each side of the street approaching the motel whose balcony held the lumbering weight of George’s two hundred seventy-three-pound frame.
By Keith Jacobs6 years ago in Criminal
The Emerald Hotel
November 7, 2002 My therapist advised me to start writing down my thoughts and life events in this book. She said to write at least a paragraph, so I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Frederick Johnson. I am the owner of my own hotel-The Emerald Hotel-and I am not insane. I thought I should just clarify that, since people who see therapists are usually some degree of crazy, but not in this case. I hardly see a point in writing my thoughts into some stupid little book, but psychotherapy is the only (somewhat) appealing option, so I’m stuck.
By Anne Howland6 years ago in Criminal
A Life Worth Knowing
This man grew up in a broken home, he tried to hold himself together, traumatized by his own family and the bullying and mistreatment but yet again born in 1965 is a different era, different style to actually make a family work, yet, he grew not needing much except a mother and a father.
By Butcher Drek6 years ago in Criminal
Jack Forte: The Jaguar's Treasure
There Jack was, riding in the back of the hospital van with his dying dad on the stretch-bed. His dad gestured him to come closer, he whispered in his ear “The honey jar is hidden the the cave where the jaguar sleeps.” Jack heard this frequently growing up --- still, he wondered what this could mean. His dad handed him a blood-stained gold envelope with Jack’s name on it.
By Termynl Network6 years ago in Criminal
The Hit
The Hitman didn’t have a good explanation as to why this young boy was sitting in his office, on one of his desk chairs. He wasn’t even supposed to be in a smoke shop, never mind being here in the back office talking to a hired killer. This kid couldn’t be more than thirteen years old.
By Micah James6 years ago in Criminal
