fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
And the Bus Stopped
So I got off. I got off because I was hungry, obviously. Every happenstance has a cause, a reason to be. Let me explain, I was very hungry, I had started work at the Royal County Hotel before dawn; now it was 6:03 p.m. My mind was remembering pieces by famous poets and altering them, trying to distract my attention from my rumbling stomach. I was thinking, “Stands the clock at 6:03; there are no buttered scones for me.”
Graham SugarsPublished 3 years ago in CriminalNow Would be a Good Time to Call the Police
My keys jingled as I failed to open my car door, I'm kind of surprised my car is even still here. I love so many things about this city but the constant feeling of danger isn’t one of them.
Ayla SiroisPublished 3 years ago in CriminalDeparture
A knife…I’ll need a good knife, Ethan thought. In a flurry of excitement, Ethan quickly scribbled down the word “knife” on the first page of his little black notebook. There were knives in the galley, but none of those would do. No, Ethan needed a very particular type of knife. Ethan ran his left hand through his greying brown hair as if it would generate more ideas for things he would need.
Zach CruthirdsPublished 3 years ago in CriminalEveryone is Fair Game
Placing his trusty and tattered black notebook back into his jacket pocket, the detective scanned the crime scene one more time. The notebook that he carried everywhere, all dogeared and with some pages barely holding on to the book’s gutter. He kept the book in two places, either his jacket pocket or at his bedside. When he’d received the notebook he distinctively noticed the scent. It was that all familiar and very unique aroma that only books possess. One of his favourites smells in the world.
Donna O'LearyPublished 3 years ago in CriminalMy Dearest Daughter
As a child, my mother used to tell me that life always gifted surprises. Whether they were good or not was not up to us, that responsibility landed upon life. At times, life was not forgiving with the gifts she gave. I never understood the true extent she could go until I stood in front of my burning home. The blaze devouring all the life within my home, my families cries long quieted by the fumes. My once flowing tears dried up by the heat, the golden glow it casted upon my melanated skin now darkening it with its ash.
Dayana AlvarezPublished 3 years ago in CriminalSwitcheroo
It wasn’t until Lewis got home that he noticed he’d taken the wrong suitcase from the airport baggage claim. He cursed himself under his breath when he opened it up on his bed to unpack and realized his error. It was probably the anxiety of flying that had clouded his mind and led to the mix-up, although it would’ve been an easy mistake for anyone to make. The outside of the case was nearly identical to his own, an old hard-sided bag in pale blue with twin brass clasps. The contents, however, pointed to a great polarization. Where Lewis wore argyle sweater vests and tweed blazers, the stranger wore silk shirts and designer tracksuits. Lewis’s clothes smelled of coffee and dry erase markers, but the stranger’s smelled like cigarettes and cologne. Lewis studied Joyce and Eliot, and the stranger had packed Hustler and a couple of detective paperbacks. The only thing that could not be found inside was any kind of identifying information. In his own luggage, Lewis had a little tag sewn into the lining, bearing his name, address, and phone number. Standing over his bed, staring into the wrong suitcase, he hoped with all his might to hear the phone ring.
Max FirehammerPublished 3 years ago in CriminalLittle Black Book
Little Black Book by EA Taralaikov While sipping an almond chai latte and counting down the minute’s before I cross the road to start work at 9.30am. At the Art Agency Studio.
Elizabeth APublished 3 years ago in CriminalThe Black Ledger
Nobody. That’s who I am. I don’t feign to be anyone or anything else. Nobody is a solace I am most content with, a shadow looming idly by in the crevice of an afterthought.
Greg HendersonPublished 3 years ago in CriminalJust another day at work
Just another day at work By Tange Cox Marie left the house for the 2nd time that day. Every time she got in the car she would remember something else. Before she left the house she tried to see if there was anything else she could be missing. Once she got into the car and looked at the clock she realized she had 45 minutes before work. She had just enough time to stop by the convenient store and grab a couple scratch-offs. She decided to splurge today and pick an $20 and $30. She felt positive about these scratch-offs probably because she had a dream about winning. She pulled into the police station with 10 minutes to spare. Enough time to scratch them off. She scratched off the first one and it gave her $20 back, when she scratched off the 2nd one she did it with her eyes closed. When she opened them she realized she had missed scratching one of the areas. She scratched the bonus area and it said $20,000 winner. She couldn’t believe it. She wanted to scream but didn’t want to draw attention to herself. She put it inside her extra black notebook she kept in her car. She got out of the car with a smile on her face. Her shift started in less than 5 minutes. She hoped she didn’t get partnered with Pierce because he would talk her ear off.
Time Ripper
"If you are reading this I have gone too far. This has been the biggest tragedy that I could ever imagine. I have become a cold case that will never be solved. It shouldn't be if I can help it." My apartment felt strange this evening. The warm sunset was beaming in the bay window. The warmth on my neck was new after the franticly drastic hair cut from the morning. The day became a week then back to the beginning of today and I am still trying to focus on it. Running all morning. Pain in my mind from all of the looping. Strain in my heart from the deaths I have caused. "The autopsy of the child's body will begin today." The tv whispers in the other room as Gina reads from the small black book she found on top of the huge bag filled with hundreds.
Alexsandra BarentinePublished 3 years ago in CriminalSo, What Happened Was...
Charlotte asked, “What do you think of this?” She did a half-jump toward Quinn. Quinn regarded Charlotte’s derby dress and hat with admiration. “You are a knockout, and I believe you are a worthy competitor for the ‘Run for the Roses’ award”
Eileen KosPublished 3 years ago in CriminalI'm in the Book
It was a rainy night in Los Angeles. I was working late in my office. An empty whiskey bottle sat on the desk, a pile of crumpled cigarette butts in the ashtray. I don’t smoke, or drink for that matter; they’re just there for looks. In my line of work, that look makes clients think I’m the kind of guy who can do what they need done. It so happens that clients, or the lack of them, was what I was thinking about when the door swung open.
Keith GretterPublished 3 years ago in Criminal