fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
Forest Hill
Forest Hill First we traded dreams, and I had something good, not the one where the bus sped on the bottom of the pool, taking in water, everyone swimming up to the air bubble at the ceiling to gasp for breath except for the driver who seemed to have evolved gills, sitting in his transit uniform, looking straight ahead, holding the pedal steady against the muffled noise of the motor underwater, no, and not the night where I heard the shot that killed Candy (Candy?) from two houses down, knowing I shouldn’t have left her with the crystals (crystals?) alone, the first time I had ever held a real gun, no I would probably never tell anyone about those, despite writing them down in a lost notebook somewhere, no I would tell her and her mocha brown eyes the one with young Stalin, this one I could take out of my rolodex of night tales and share with the confidence that tonight the world had seemed to catch up to its brand of craziness or at least was headed that way as the bar tender stringing Christmas lights from the ceiling dropped ornaments on the floor and belly laughed, jolting us out of our stumbling conversation and sending me into the golden bubbles flying through my glass of beer, occasionally looking up at the figure of a night owl perched in the corner of the room watching over us.
By Neal Friedman5 years ago in Criminal
Out of the Game
My first day of retirement from the agency I slept almost 24 hours. My daughter was concerned about me. She had just returned home with her two children because of a very nasty and expensive divorce. She woke me up and insisted I go to the emergency room. I go to appease her and the children now ages 11 and 14. The doctors gave me a clean bill of health and set up my appointment with a primary care physician at the clinic for disabled and retired federal agents.
By Hadayai Majeed aka Dora Spencer5 years ago in Criminal
HiM
When he was a small child, he was happy. Happy not being a word used here to show contentment and pleasure. No, he was much more than content and pleased. He was grateful. He was at peace and carefree; he was happy. But he is no longer that child. Just a sad creature devoid of as much serotonin and gaiety as a person could be.
By Lali Alani5 years ago in Criminal
O.W.L. Other World Legion
O.W.L Other World Legion By Abdul Hakim Other World Legion is a clandestine world organization bent on creating havoc through criminal activities of bioterrorism, extortion, drug smuggling and murder. The organization seeks a position of world power and control. Its symbol is the owl. The owl is a predator bird. Seldom will other predators feed on owls. However sometimes owls feed on other owls.
By Abdul Al Hakim5 years ago in Criminal
A Couple of Outlaws
The bank teller lifts her head as I step up to the counter. There is plexiglass separating the two of us, and it looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in a while. Specks of grime and dust coat the clear material like paint splattered across a painter’s canvas. She flashes me a tight smile, showing off her yellowed, lipstick-stained teeth. Her eyes, coated in an awful blue eyeshadow, are bored and irritated.
By Westley Thompson5 years ago in Criminal
Danny
Danny He has one eye a mouth and a zipper for a nose, I named him Danny, though he wasn't always Danny. When I first met him he was a plain old brown bookbag, what I didn't know, was Danny could speak, breathe, laugh, giggle even. He scared the holy bejesus out of me the first night he called my name, “Laura,” he whispered, at first I thought I was hearing stuff, downright hallucinating when two legs protruded from the sowl of his pack. He stood straight up, reached out his hand, and waited for me to shake it. “I am Danny he said,” “I’m a magic bag and I can take you many places. All I ask in return is that you never set me on the floor.” He didn't tell me why and I didn't care to ask.
By April Chavez5 years ago in Criminal
Danny
Danny He has one eye a mouth and a zipper for a nose, I named him Danny, though he wasn't always Danny. When I first met him he was a plain old brown bookbag, what I didn't know, was Danny could speak, breathe, laugh, giggle even. He scared the holy bejesus out of me the first night he called my name, “Laura,” he whispered, at first I thought I was hearing stuff, downright hallucinating when two legs protruded from the sowl of his pack. He stood straight up, reached out his hand, and waited for me to shake it. “I am Danny he said,” “I’m a magic bag and I can take you many places. All I ask in return is that you never set me on the floor.” He didn't tell me why and I didn't care to ask.
By April Chavez5 years ago in Criminal
The Barn Owl Knows
This wasn't the first time I sat alone in the barn. Listening to the echoing hoots of the barn owl in the chilling night air. The smell of hay lingering on every breath I took. Looking up into the rafters at the feathered body perched high above, watching me like he did every night. I'd like to think that if the owl could speak, he'd have kind things to say about me. I imagine that we would go on adventures into the woods together. I could live this life my father had made for me and I could finally start to live. Maybe make a friend. But no.Not after what I've seen.
By Dustin Leslie5 years ago in Criminal
