fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
A Concatenation of Misfortune
The metal spoon met the floor with a vibrating clink dragging Sam back from his reverie. “And I’ll get that with a side of hash browns and a fresh cup of coffee with three sugars but hold the cream.” Sam focused on the dark and obscurely long chin hair wriggling as the old woman mumbled on her breakfast order. When she had finally finished reciting the entire menu, he stumbled back to the kitchen and uncaringly passed the note of indecipherable scribbles to the feigned chef.
By Iman Jamal-Eddine6 years ago in Criminal
Matryoshka
The character runs across the fields, panting as he wipes the sweat off his forehead. He stares behind him and towards the path, alternatively, conscious his manoeuvre has not gone unnoticed. The pain emanating from his leg is becoming harder to ignore at every step. Without daring to stop, he tightens his hands around the straps of the blue bag and finds the strength to keep limping forward. He finally stops behind a thick oak tree to catch his breath.
By Irene Escobar6 years ago in Criminal
Quarantine Heist
An increasingly pervasive hum, which felt like it was borrowing deep into her temples, gradually pulled Cassandra out of her sleep and into disorienting consciousness. Her eyes were dry and sensitive to the artificial glow of light that was around her, so she kept them shut. Her entire body suddenly began to tremor along with everything else around her, rattling in place but sounding ready to break out. She gradually opened her eyes to be faced directly with a masked woman wearing a clear visor. She was gesturing and waving at her frantically. The words of the masked woman were muffled by the deep thrumming hum, but Cassandra could just about make them out.
By Frankie Miller6 years ago in Criminal
Message in A Notebook
I got $20,000 by burning down my mom’s house. We weren’t always on the best terms. Three weeks ago was the first time in six years I’d heard her voice. She sounded thin and quiet, a stark difference from the nasal siren that made every muscle in my abdomen clench when she’d call my name to come do something. Her last husband had kicked me out eight years ago, and made her choose between me or him seven years ago. That last phone call six years ago started with tears, and ended with apologies after she explained that he’d leave her homeless if she didn’t completely cut me off.
By Sharon Cothron6 years ago in Criminal
Adventures at the Palacio
Eighteen months in Estoril and Deeva still felt out of place. Working at the Palacio Hotel, she fit it about as well as a kitten living in an aquarium. She spoke just enough Portuguese to get by and even then she feared her Australian accent stuck out in all the worst ways. It was ungainly, awkward. Not the elegant, aristocratic elocution of the wealthy British tourists who spent holidays there, gambling and drinking away their trust funds without a care.
By Aliah T. Gill6 years ago in Criminal
Circuit
Streams of light flutter through the cracks of makeshift cardboard blinds and hit me at the center of my face. I shift around the cold cement below me and tug on the torn-up sleeves of my shirt and pretend that they provide warmth. My eyelashes bind together as I work hard to sluggishly open my eyes. The sun says good morning as the light slowly makes its way down my body, warming every inch on its way down. This is my favorite time of the day. It's the only time of the day that I can be present. The only time that my circumstances don't fester in my mind, creating a chain reaction of disappointment and misinterpreted reality. The only time that I feel good enough just as I am. I think it's the consistency of the sun rising every morning and laying her warm hands on my body as if to say, "you are seen, and you are loved." The moment is short, but it's the closest thing to perfection that I have come across in this life.
By Elizabeth Cui6 years ago in Criminal
