fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
Hiding in Seattle
Finally, the first week at my new job is over. I didn’t think I would end up in Seattle but so far it’s been uneventful, just the way it should be. Terri appears and asks if I want to join the others for Happy Hour at Stoneburner’s. I pretend to consider it thoughtfully.
Sonia RiegerPublished 3 years ago in CriminalBlack Money
Black Money : A Revenge Story Note: This short story is very loosely based on a true story. I've modified it to fit within the strictures of this content
Noah StainbrookPublished 3 years ago in CriminalFear and Solitude
“We are all but abstractions of one another,” the radio blared on condescendingly. The last thing I needed was another voice yammering on just beneath my pulsing skull, my brain-skin. I hit the gas like a maniac, zooming down Mulholland, Coldwater Canyon, out toward Encino. The static voice reminded me that I was far from whole, a sinner at best.
K.R. RIEBERPublished 3 years ago in CriminalNo plans.
‘You got any plans tonight?’ Frankie asked, screwing the cap firmly back on the bottle of vodka she’d just poured a shot from. I watched her proceed to knock it back and sighed wistfully.
Izzy TaylorPublished 3 years ago in CriminalThe Losses
I was heading towards the airport exit when I spotted the old man. At first glance, he looked no different from the other people waiting in the hallway, holding up printed or handwritten pickup signs. The only thing that made him stand out, besides the crumpled piece of paper he was holding, was his hairstyle. Courageously bald in the center, with wisps of salt-and-pepper hair swaying gently in the waft, the old man looked almost comical in his reasonable dark jacket and gray T-shirt. When our eyes met, he smiled at me genially, as if he had nothing to do with the sign, which read:
Minerva.
Anyone ever thought being kidnapped was a way of freedom, but for Minerva was, in fact, the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to her. She felt cured and more alive than ever. She knew the truth of all truths.
Melissa MartinezPublished 3 years ago in CriminalSerendipity...?
Today my life completely changed, and all because of a little black book. It’s not every day that a postal worker from Chicago, Illinois, comes into millions of dollars virtually overnight. That’s what makes this all so strange. But let me start from the beginning.
Steph CuffleyPublished 3 years ago in CriminalHow to become a Hitman.....by accident
CRASH!! An old black SUV slams into a parked car right in front of me just as I exit my apartment. It was early, so no one else was around, it was just me, this accident scene, and the guy slumped over the steering wheel. After the shock of what just happened passed, I dropped my coffee, and ran over to see if the guy needed help.
Robert Peirson Jr.Published 3 years ago in CriminalThe Harvest
‘FINAL NOTICE’. The large red letters stamped on the outside of the envelope made it easy for Eddie McBride to deduce what it contained. The bank was going to foreclose on his farm. He had been struggling to keep the farm afloat ever since his wife developed cancer. As the disease had taken a larger and larger toll on the love of his life’s body, so too had it taken its toll on the life of his farm. He was dedicating more and more of his time to caring for her and more and more of their savings was going to pay for the medical bills. By the time she lost her battle, he was all but destitute and it had forced him to let his farm hands go long before. To make matters worse, the growing season for the past few years had been awful. What little time he had dedicated to tending to the corn had not been enough to counter the effects of drought and blight. He missed payments. From there it was a relentless downhill path to this moment. Looking at this envelope.
Steven KlecknerPublished 3 years ago in CriminalWhat would you do for $20,000?
What would you do for $20,000? I mean, it’s not a million dollars so you still have to go to work in the morning. But it’s not chump change, you could buy that new TV you wanted and still have some cash leftover to maybe buy some stock and hope that those guys from Reddit will drive it up and you can triple it. Or go on that vacation you always wanted with the girl that always shut you down. Whatever you like. It’s all there, in 10 $2,000 straps of 20 dollar bills waiting for you. Untraceable.
Jonathan CochranPublished 3 years ago in Criminal20K and a Little Black Notebook
I woke up with blood dripping down my face in what looked like my 19meter square apartment. The head ached, the lip was swollen and the vision- blurry. The memories were barely there and the only reason why I thought I was actually in my own apartment was because if I was kidnapped or hostage, I can only assume I would be tied to something and I wouldn’t have a bag with money in my hand. Wait, what? There is a bag with money in my hand? Not only that but inside the bag, there is also a little black notebook. I go through it. “Weed $30, cocaine $80, MD $120” these are drugs. This is drug money, this is blood money. If I could move I would panic, but anyone that ever has had a hangover knows time goes really slow and really fast simultaneously, so one is stuck in a quantum realm where you should be able to get an Oscar for the best performance just by being able to stand up. And yet, is it a hangover? I am shaking a lot that’s for sure. I have never given birth but I can only assume this is how women feel afterwards. Worried about their child, relief something is over and your body is just in a shock-state; again, I wasn’t pregnant tho so I guess I am hangover. I look at the pillow and there is only blood, maybe I gave birth to this bag of drug money? I stand up and go to the toilet, an automatic motion makes my hand grab my toothbrush which puts me at ease, this IS my apartment. And yet, why do I live like this? There are books and clothes on the floor, wrappings of food everywhere and the toilet looks like the swamp where a Disney villain character would live in- this is disgusting. Let's list the stuff we know. Right, I can’t have given birth because I have a girlfriend, I am gay, maybe we wanted to have children? I don´t know. When is it a right time to have children? How old am I? I pee and then I look for my computer-nada. Phone? Great-all the names in it are code names. “Sweetie bear” “Blue eyes white dragon” “Don Quijote”. No message history, no apps, no nada. Is this my phone? Might as well come with the bag of drugs. I don’t do drugs, this is not my money, this is not my phone, this is my apartment, this is my face. WOW. My face. Whatever age I am I look 30 years older, I am wrecked, if I saw myself on the street I would stay away from me. I am beyond the point of getting help. I must… mmmm…. shower? Yes, a shower sounds nice. Up next, the shower thought of the day- do I leave the drug things or take them with me on the search of my identity and probably breakfast? Should a nice MA student who pays her bills go walk around with 20K worth of drugs in her bag? Or better yet, leave them in her apartment? Mmmmm… Mcdonald's sounds nice. I think I will go with Mcdonald's for breakfast. I dress up and take the money, I couldn’t find a wallet so it becomes a no-brainer, I need money for breakfast so I will walk into Mcdonalds with 20K in my bag. I leave the apartment looking like a clown- makeup can’t hide a swollen eye. Right, I live in Stoke Newington- London. Where am I going? What should I do? Of course MacDonalds but first, where does one head when you don’t know who you are? Police? Police sound good, I am a good civilian that pays her taxes and studies a master's degree. In what? I don’t remember. Nice, money well spent. I go to the corner shop and ask for a police station. Who even does that? I would have gotten less judgy looks by just buying a burner phone and calling an emergency number. Funnily enough, the guy says is right around the corner and a adds a kind “Are you alright? Do you need to call somebody?” I reply with- “I don’t know who to call darling, but if I don’t find my way, I´ll come back here and take your word on it. Thanks” He doesn’t look relieved, but kinda does. I walk to the police station, which is literally 2 blocks away when suddenly, I see her! My girlfriend! Steph! I shout her name! “STEPH!” She finds me! She comes rushing to me! I am so excited! It feels like I am a child at Christmas! Weird, she is raising her hand as she comes rushing to me? BANG, I am on the floor, again. “I told you never come to my apartment again! You made a copy key didn’t you? You fucking asshole you’re even wearing my clothes- who are you hiding from now?” For what it's worth, the floor is nice, the floor is cold. I get up. What do you mean? Aren't we together anymore?. No. Obviously not. These are crazy people's questions. And yet, she is still my only shot… “Steph, I am so sorry, I will leave you alone but you have to tell me what happened since we broke up, I woke up in your apartment and I can’t remember anything but, but you really!” She took a look at me like I am an animal, a sucking vampire coming to suck from her life again, she looked up and down at me the same way that you look at a picture of a toxic ex, with no sympathy, hurt, and too frustrated to even speak. I might be a good civilian who has a masters degree who pays taxes but I clearly fucked with her life. And yet… “We used to live in that apartment when we were both doing our masters, you and I were together for 4 years until you got into drug dealing. You used to be amazing, very active, and fun, it's worth noting you got into drug dealing because you needed the money, but then you started smoking, snorting, and what's worse, you got ambitious about it. I haven’t seen you in 3 years, but with that lifestyle of yours and that look on your face, I am not surprise you don’t remember any of it and quite frankly, even if I wanted to help you I don’t know who you are, what do you do or where do you live. I don’t pity you, so don’t come near me ever again. You’re on your own.” And just like that, she leaves me on the street. I am trying to understand everything she just said. It made sense, the guy from the corner shop didn’t recognize me which is just not natural for anyone that lives above one. Gross, that was not my toothbrush. Shame, I actually don’t know where I left her keys. This IS my phone and most importantly, this IS my money. My money. My little black notebook. Mine. I can go anywhere, it's my money, I can buy anything, all mine. Ha! Fuck taxes. I am good. Sundown is on the horizon, the cellphone starts pinging. All I gotta do is find a hotel to take a nap. Then? back to work.
Pilar MaloPublished 3 years ago in CriminalSupermarket Sweep
Hi! My name is Jamie Thompson. I’m a 28-year old, average run of the mill guy living in Nacogdoches , TX...never heard of it? --- Yea, me neither! Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that at 28 I’d be living in a podunk town like this. The air reeks of crisp, clean oxygen and hard work. Not my kind of place at all! Give me the drab, smog filled monotony of the city any day. I’m talking about the fast paced, lively, get out of the way action of Columbus, Ohio!
Adryan MoorefieldPublished 3 years ago in Criminal