fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
Nemesis
I kept it in a false drawer within my desk. An old, black Moleskine notebook that I’d been given many years earlier. At first, I used it to record events that I wanted to note, or memorable statements or quotes I wished to record and be able to refer back to. Sometimes when I was travelling, for work or on holiday, I’d write down times, places, even meals, that seemed worthy of inclusion in my little black book.
By Stephen Flynn6 years ago in Criminal
Doing Laundry
I ran. Fast. The cascading darkness of the city streets blurred past as I set an unnatural pace. Only the shine of a few decrepit streetlamps, flickering intermittently, exposed my surroundings as I dodged turned over garbage cans and boxes of God knows what. I knew these streets well, as I had walked home through them a few hundred times, but this time was different, this time I was running, and this time I was being chased. My lungs worked like a bellows, moving swaths of air in and out, trying to keep up with my legs. The adrenaline coursing through my veins reigned paramount over my body keeping me moving forwards. Logic and will had abandoned me, as fear consumed my mind and the animal instincts of fight or flight ruled. And for a 24-year-old, five foot nothing, female in a, shall we say, substantially seedy part of town picked flight every time. As I approached an alley to my right, I paused a moment, partly to catch my breath, which had long ago escaped me, and partly to check if my pursuers were still hot on my tail. I looked back and saw light bouncing up and down off the walls of the building I had just passed and heard voices and the heavy breath of at least three men. I looked down at what I towed in my left arm, which was burning from the weight of a large cylindrical black duffle bag bulging on all sides from its contents. I took one last lengthy inhale and darted down the alley.
By Tyler deMey6 years ago in Criminal
The Last Gift
I pulled my jacket tight around me against the chill. My breath plumed in big clouds in front of me as I walked toward the house. The sun shone weakly, barely above the rooftops of the tidy houses in the quiet neighborhood. I walked up to the gate of the six-foot wooden fence and pulled the string that opened the inner latch. I shouldn’t be here, I thought. I had been telling myself to turn around, to let it go, to close this chapter and get on with my life. For weeks now. Ever since the judge had made the ruling and the fight was over. But I couldn’t. It was my house, and I worked hard for it and everything within its walls. I just couldn’t let it go yet. There was one more thing I had to do.
By Delaney Peterson6 years ago in Criminal
The Cold Tile Floor
She couldn’t believe he was actually gone. As she walked back into the home they’d shared for four years, she was flooded with memories. It was his house, but it was almost completely bare when she moved in, so she was the one who decorated and made it feel like a home. He had worked as a police officer for 22 years and was close to retirement. For the last eight years, he’d trained every new cop in their small town. They were completely infatuated with each other, and every moment felt like the stuff of fairy tales.
By LJ Livingston6 years ago in Criminal
Our Story
Jennings having lived most of his life in some of the bigger city was now calling the quiet little town of Wheats town; in the middle of nowhere Indiana, home. The Complex was the biggest apartment complex in; not only the town, but the county. The Complex is a rather quiet little three story building, close to the center of town. Once a rather bustling factory making fencing, tubing and wiring; now it is affordable living units for multiple families.
By Jeremiah W. Hudson6 years ago in Criminal
The Will
It was crisp, cool morning in Paris. David Rawling was sitting at an outdoor cafe waiting for his breakfast. He had been in his lawyers office finalizing his divorce, when a call came through from France. His great aunt Inez had passed and he was the sole inheritor of her estate. David had hoped that the trip would cool the fresh sting of his failed marriage. Now the only thing to do was wait for the executor.
By Rylan Alexander6 years ago in Criminal
Dying for the Diamond
I was waiting her table like normal. I watched as she meticulously wrote in what I believed was a journal. It was a little black book with a diamond in the bottom right corner and in script font was Diamond Edition. She was like clockwork. Always here every Thursday at 7:30. Something felt different about today. Her beautiful blonde hair was pulled up in a messy bun. I wondered if she ever wore what I like to call “regular clothes”? You know jeans, leggings, and T-shirts.
By Patricia Brothers6 years ago in Criminal
