fiction

Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.

The Stalker
Lurking in the bushes nearby, I sensed eyes on me, dark barren eyes like empty barrels. The chill down my back, prickled with instinct. Here we go again, I thought, going into fight or flight mode, that was more just a flight mode, because there was no way I was going to try fight this.
By Rebecca Malins5 years ago in Criminal
The Ring
He still owed money to Carlos but he was on the island and on the island Carlos could not touch him. The sun streamed down, bouncing off everything it touched. The hammock sagged and gently swayed, almost to the beat of the band playing on the beach.
By Eamonn Miller5 years ago in Criminal
If Only Snow Clouds Could Fly
‘ Bleeding Nora, my names Nora by the way. Just in case you think I’m kidding’. ‘ Giovanni my partner in crime got nailed by the cops in India last week with a two ton case of cocaine. ‘
By Yvette Louise Melech5 years ago in Criminal
A Beautiful Life
He walked through the woods on a crisp autumn day. The dried leaves crunched with each step under his large boots as he departed from the wood. His sheathed blade dangled from his hip and danced with each subsequent step. Each breathe could be seen in the air as a fine mist was expelled from his mouth as he trekked away through the muddy ground. Finally, he reached his rusty, worse for wear, and weather-beaten red truck. He gazed around without the sight of a single soul. He paused for a moment before unlocking the door as he took the instant in with a smile on his face as he glanced back from where he emerged from the wood. He entered his vehicle and proceeded to drive away. The sun could be seen setting in the distance with an array of expressive colors as he made his way to the main road.
By Connor Stermer5 years ago in Criminal
The Man Who Held the Sun
Present Year / August 14th / 7:32 AM Aster woke up that morning feeling a dread deep inside the pit of his stomach. He’s always had good intuition, and based on the feeling he woke up with, he knew today was not going to be a good day at all. He wondered, as he changed, if perhaps one of his father’s employees was planning to quit again. That would mean the man would be one angry guy, and silent meals with the CEO of the company would be something to dread.
By Caless Red5 years ago in Criminal
Weight
Karen pulled her minivan slowly to the curb as she approached the double warehouse. She watched the busy deliveries going on out front. Is this the right place? There were a few parked cars, though she didn't see Bridget’s Toyota.
By Jordan Flynn5 years ago in Criminal
Tell-tale Flowers
•The Year 2006 Manolo Sánchez, a native of Spain and living in Buenos Aires (Argentina) for five years, received the news After the death of his uncle Francisco, which occurred unexpectedly in Madrid, he knew that he was the only heir to an immense fortune and without wasting time he contacted Antonio, his best friend, who was living in Toledo at the time. Immediately and incidentally asked him for a favor, to bring him some "Lilium" seeds, since those flowers were not known in that country, he also argued that his wife liked them very much. Manolo, without delay, prepared the suitcases, He filled with gifts for Martha, Antonio's wife, and also for the children. On the way to the Ezeiza International Airport, he suddenly realized that he was not carrying the seeds. He looked at his watch and thought he still had time, so he asked the taxi Please come back because he had forgotten something very important. To him To the seeds that were in a paper bag, on the table, he put them in his pants pocket. He had no problems with immigration, luckily. After the long journey, he arrived in Barajas (Madrid) where his close friend was waiting for him. In another hour they would be home. Indeed, almost nightfall they reached their destination. The children were eagerly peering out the window. They expected gifts from Uncle Manolo, as was to be expected. After the greetings, Manolo opened the suitcase and began to deliver packages. He looked like Santa Claus at Christmas. For Manolo, like many immigrants, America had not been lavish. Luck was elusive, But the death of Uncle Francisco promised to radically change his life. He was going to stop being poor and thought to settle permanently in his native land and it even crossed his mind to look for a good girl to make a home. That same night, he telephoned Inspector Colunga, a childhood friend, to let him know that he would visit him the next day. Sincere friends that life had separated, nevertheless they communicated from time to time. At Antonio's house, with great excitement, they celebrated the arrival of Manolo, eating Serrano ham and drinking sherry. Almost dawn they all went to sleep. No one ever saw Manolo again. Colunga waited for him in vain; so he decided to talk On the phone, believing that he was delayed because he had fallen asleep from the exhaustion of the trip, Martha answered him and said that she did not know anything. That she would surely have kept awake and opted to go see the lawyer to speed up the process of adjudication of the assets that by law correspond to her. They also talked about the gifts she had brought. And the "Lilium" seeds that they had asked for. What a rare disappearance! Manolo did not appear alive or dead, they even looked for him in the hospitals ... AND NOTHING ... Inspector Colunga advised not to report it to the police, but Antonio did make the complaint. The following day the Inspector witnessed the search. The owner of the house was offended and asked to proceed in the same way in his mansion. This was done, but ... no sign of Manolo. Colunga decided to visit the notary who was the depositary of the will. The surprise was enormous when he found out that he also left part of the inheritance to Antonio, as payment for the care he had received from him in recent years. Colunga became suspicious of Antonio and looked for any excuse to visit him. All in vain, he could not find the minimum proof to be able to accuse him and declare him guilty ... As the body was not found, there was no crime. To count him as missing, the law says that two years have to pass. If at the end of that time there are no signs of life, the judge will award the entire inheritance to Antonio, according to a clause of the will. He passed winter and spring came. One warm afternoon in March, Colunga was looking out the window that overlooked the patio at Antonio's house. Something she saw that he powerfully caught her attention. Many weeds had grown by the wall and mixed with them, some Lilium flowers. He said nothing and withdrew. The next day he returned accompanied by six policemen who removed the soil where the weeds and Lilium had grown, the latter, a product of the seeds that Manolo kept in his trouser pocket. There was his corpse, a bullet to the temple had ended his life. At first, the owners of the house denied having participated in the obvious crime, but in the end, they confessed everything. Martha had helped bury him. The Inspector, shaking his head, assured: Once again the excessive ambition for money, spoiled several lives.
By jimmy joe5 years ago in Criminal
Cruz Control
CRUZ CONTROL Troubling Night in Jersey City By Jeffrey Marshall “What should we do with the body?” It was a question that leaped out of my mouth before I really had a chance to think. Sgt. O’Hanlon and I stood over the late Cruz Gonzalez, a fast-talking, shifty-eyed drug dealer whose mix of menace and fake bonhomie we knew all too well. Cruz’s street name was FC, which we’d been told stood for “Fast Cruz.” Now, Cruz was no longer moving at any speed, and his all-black ensemble was missing his black ballcap with the familiar “NY” logo. Cruz was a Yankees fan to the end, but O’Hanlon’s shot had taken off his hat when it went through his right temple.
By Jeffrey Marshall5 years ago in Criminal
Old Spice and Irish Whiskey
The last time I rode the subway was in 1972. And, I wouldn't be on this particular rolling garbage can if my cab driver hadn't been sans green card and trying to test the limits of his speedometer.
By Zelda Zeezeewriter Markowicz5 years ago in Criminal
White Knight
Brian O’Dell, a new agent in the Federal Bureau of Investigation, sat at his desk, staring at the report that he had just got done reading. The Soviet Union was invading the United State, but not as the public would believe with brute force, but instead by infiltrating the crime syndicate and starting operations in remote corners of the country. At the age of twenty-one, he was the youngest agent at the Bureau having completed everything required by the Academy with top marks. He had expected to be placed with the Dead Cases division, but because of his ability to blend in, he was assigned to a special task force dealing with crime.
By Amanda Moorefield5 years ago in Criminal
True stories of murders
In Egypt, there was a woman who supported her entire family after God Almighty cursed her with a husband who drifted after many years of marriage with bad friends on the drug rail. They have three daughters, the eldest of whom is in university, "Fayrouz", and after the mother, who is striving to make the wheel of the house, refuses to give him the money she needs for her daughters' expenses, the husband started selling the house furniture piece by piece, and when the wife was talking to him, he beat her, and when she did not find a way with him she was forced to separate from him.
By Samara Ben5 years ago in Criminal
Hal and Diane
There was this one bar, real dive, middle of nowhere, surrounded by desert and not much else, the kinda joint where big men with beards, bikes and facial tattoos can be coaxed into crying into their Jack Daniels by just the right mixture of wide-eyed patriotism and sentimentality where I played a set one time. I did my three hours behind a chicken wire mesh that kept out about a third of all the shit they threw and, while the waitresses were sweeping up the broken beer bottles in front of the stage, I went to the owner for my fee. He looks at me like he’s about to say the cleverest thing in the world and says “Paid in beers, wadnit?” It wasn’t. It was $50, a meal and a bed for the night. Calm like, I tell him this. He grins and by a slight movement of his head, indicates the shotgun hung above the bar. “Seems to me you look like the kind of guy that might come to an outta the way place like this and try and take the register. Seems to me I was to catch you in the act I’d be within my rights to shoot your thieving ass dead. Ain’t that right, Abner?” The bum at the bar says nothing, and without looking round flips open his wallet to reveal a badge. Figures. I look back at the barkeep and say levelly: “Yeah. Beers. I’ll take ‘em now.” The guy looks like he’s about to burst. “Ah, hell son, looks like Abner done got the last one!” He laughs a laugh that says he knows I can’t do shit, and there’s even an accompanying snigger from Abner. In a movie, this’d be roundabout the time where I started to laugh along with them, before pounding Abner’s head into the bar, vaulting over the counter, grabbing the shotgun and turning it on the sniveling bar owner, loading my pockets with greasy dollar bills and strolling out with the shotgun over one shoulder and my guitar on the other. Real easy way to get shot, there, and one of the things about being a strolling player is that the health insurance don’t add up to squat, so high risk things that might look good on a screen take a back seat to things like going outside and round back and taking a leak in the gas tank of Abner’s cruiser, which is exactly what I do.
By Will Tudge5 years ago in Criminal