fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
The Back
You’d have to know exactly where you’re going to find the back entrance to Miguel’s apartment building somewhere in Midtown. It’s concealed Tetris-like in an alleyway where it intersects two disparate rear doors belonging to stores nobody ever visits. The space is narrow with random graffiti and trash cans strewn about its perimeter. For the whole nine years since Miguel moved here with his mom there’s even been a rumor that a dead body was discovered early one morning at the upper part of the passage. An urban ecosystem thrives with the best -and not so best- of what this environment has to offer. For Miguel, who is eleven, an avid reader of comics and soccer fan, this place is paradise, his favorite place in the world.
Emerson MachtusPublished 3 years ago in CriminalA little book of names.
Thrrrp. Thrrrp. Thrrrp. Clark’s right index finger dutifully riffled the upper corner of the notebook. Small, worn, unassuming. He fixed his gaze on the smudged glass of the door he walked through half an hour ago and willed his left leg to stop shaking the faux-leather bench seats of the booth he’d taken up by the window.
Mike HouldsworthPublished 3 years ago in CriminalAt the Corner
It was a green light, so I stood on the corner of Ashland and Roosevelt, waiting to cross. Though it was already early March, the winter persisted, and my hands were icy. I rubbed my fingers against the inner lining of my coat, trying to warm them before my next round. The hardest days of winter had passed, but the gray still lingered, casting a cloudy shadow onto the afternoon. I peered across the corner at the gas station. Something was different. There was a large banner hung across the top that read, ‘Rise from the ashes’ with an image of man, his back turned, picking himself up after an explosion. It was just some upcoming movie advertisement, but it felt strange and out of place on the corner, or maybe I just didn’t like change.
Julia M. BlumPublished 3 years ago in CriminalFinal Blow
Nora Gianni sat at the base of the hill and peered up at the old farmhouse her mother had once called home, letting her chocolate brown eyes take in the view. Much to her surprise, the stately structure still had glimpses of its former glory. Crimson roof tiles stubbornly held on to remnants of their color despite the harsh, Upstate New York winters and pieces of childhood memories flitted through her mind. She smiled as she remembered proudly proclaiming to anyone who would listen that the deep red roof color had been chosen because or her red hair. Now, even though the matching red shutters either hung precariously by what appeared to be a single nail or were altogether missing and the sleeping porch had long ago disintegrated into a sea of broken timbers, it still felt like home.
Allison HowardPublished 3 years ago in CriminalLittle Black Book
Bounty in the Boondocks The trouble started the day after Daddy died. It was all Awnrie’s fault. You don’t know my older brother Awnrie, but he’s as greedy as they come. Nothing was going to stop him from finding that buried money. The first thing he did was tear the house apart, looking for Daddy’s hand drawn map.
Rebekah ParkerPublished 3 years ago in CriminalA Different Life
A crisp, bright morning it was, as the sun shone through the penthouse windows and danced around the office of our esteemed author. Samson raised his eyes to peak over the monitor and paused for a moment to witness it. The life he had created, colliding with a phenomenon he had known forever. ‘Everyone in the world has seen the sun rise’ he thought, and jotted it down.
Codi GraybillPublished 3 years ago in CriminalThe Mole
I’m lost and clearly in over my head. I am being held captive by the MOLESKINE brand police somewhere in the heart of Europe on charges of circulating a conspiracy theory to the public. What you are reading is the only remaining page of my little black MOLESKINE notebook which has suspiciously gone missing in recent weeks due to events that are now out of my control. For over two decades now I have been working undercover at MOLESKINE headquarters to unravel the secret behind their brand success that spans thousands of years and centuries of creative masters like Vincent Van Gogh and Pablo Picasso who are believed to be some of their highest-ranking members. And what I have found is so unbelievable, I have been paid a good deal of money by their competitors, $20,000 to be exact, to get the word out behind their sorcery and this is the only way I could think to do it under my current circumstances.
Paul LorencePublished 3 years ago in CriminalMovie Night
The tiny bookstore smelled of old leather, moth balls and stale coffee. Two small chandeliers were the only sources of light; which added to the inhospitable feeling this place invoked the second you crossed the threshold.
Madison AdamsPublished 3 years ago in CriminalConnections and Secrets
Moria and her friends were at the Club Omega, sipping drinks and talking. Benson walks into th e club looking around for some familar faces. People was mingling at the bar, some turning it up on the dance floor. Benson saw one of his friends acrossthe club. He got a drink from the bar and headed for his friend Arlyan. They greeted each other with a dap.
Herby BowmanPublished 3 years ago in CriminalDebutante Darlings, Harlots and Debonair Charlatans
Big Les threw the best parties. At the turn of the twenties the great, vain fun of the heirs of Long Island were just these such events thrown by the poorly closeted bootlegger. Mansion, garden and ocean strolls. Sultry evenings in the summer limelight under the stars and all the money whore males drinking mock cocktails. Those who were bold enough, connected even sometimes snuck in real champagne or sparkling wine. The fanciest pimps depraved enough even brought with them their best girls.
James B. William R. LawrencePublished 3 years ago in CriminalOur Blind Eye
Murder is a terrible thing. Even more so than we pretend we know. We see these stories, hear about these atrocities happening and we barely even break from our routine. It’s our blind eye. We as a society, we like to believe in Karma. Believe that when people do something bad, I mean like really bad, that their life will crash into tragedy just around the corner. We like to believe that their just desserts are always waiting for them just down the road. Maybe society is right. Maybe revenge is right there, just down the road. But some of these assholes like to fly. Some of these demons are up in the sky, avoiding these roads all together. Yet here we are, blindly staring up at the sky seeing nothing but clouds. We like to believe in karma, I’m sure some people thank us for that.
Michael AguilarPublished 3 years ago in CriminalBurning
He’d been on the run for three days. At first there had been the actual running. It was tough, though, carrying the satchel. Cash was heavy, even paper money, when added to the weight of the tools he’d used. There hadn’t been as much in the safe as he’d hoped, but by the time he broke through the lock and cranked open the door, it was too late to back out. Then there’d been the problem of the alarm system. That damned thing had a battery in it! Who knew? After he’d cut the power wire he’d been a little too ambitious. Crap! So the time was short and he loaded only twenty thousand dollars into the bag, then he had to get back out of the building and over the back fence.
William AltmannPublished 3 years ago in Criminal