fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
The Silent Witness. Content Warning.
Detective Mark Calloway had seen his fair share of crime scenes, but this one was different. The small apartment was spotless—too spotless. No fingerprints, no signs of struggle, and no murder weapon. Just a body, perfectly positioned on the pristine white couch, hands folded as if in prayer. The victim, Nathan Holloway, was a corporate lawyer with a reputation for making enemies. His record was clean, but his dealings were anything but. The only clue left behind was an old typewriter sitting on the desk, a single sheet of paper loaded inside. The keys had been pressed recently, but the ribbon was missing. No ink. No words. Just silence. Mark scanned the room, his eyes settling on the typewriter again. It felt off, like it didn’t belong in an otherwise modern apartment. "Who still owns a typewriter in 2025?" muttered his partner, Detective Lisa Reynolds, as she flipped through a file. "This guy had three laptops, a smart fridge, and a security system worth more than my car. But this?" She tapped the typewriter. "This is ancient." Mark nodded. "Maybe it’s a message." Lisa smirked. "A killer with a flair for the dramatic?" Mark wasn’t laughing. He leaned in, pressing one of the typewriter keys lightly. The machine made a soft click, and for some reason, it sent a chill down his spine. Something about the victim’s posture, the way he was left sitting so still—it all felt orchestrated. Lisa moved to check the security system, but the footage had been wiped. No sign of forced entry. It was as if Nathan had let his killer walk right in. Or maybe… the killer had never left. The autopsy revealed something disturbing—Nathan hadn’t been poisoned, stabbed, or shot. He had died of cardiac arrest. A perfectly healthy 42-year-old, dead without warning. "Maybe natural causes?" Lisa suggested, but she didn’t sound convinced. Mark wasn’t buying it. "A man with dozens of enemies, found staged like a museum display? This wasn’t natural. This was planned." They revisited the apartment. This time, Mark brought an old forensic trick—a UV light. He swept it across the typewriter’s blank page. Faint words began to glow. "I KNOW WHAT YOU DID." Lisa let out a low whistle. "Okay, that’s creepy." Mark’s stomach twisted. The words weren’t typed with ink—they were pressed hard enough for the indentations to leave a trace. Nathan had tried to write something before he died. Lisa dug into Nathan’s recent case files, and one name kept coming up: Adrian Wolfe, a software mogul accused of embezzlement and fraud. Nathan had been his defense attorney. Two weeks ago, Nathan had suddenly dropped the case. Mark and Lisa paid Adrian a visit. His estate was a fortress of glass and steel, the kind of place where security cameras outnumbered furniture. Wolfe greeted them with an easy smile, but his eyes were calculating. "Detectives, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, sipping a glass of scotch. Mark set a photo of Nathan on the table. "He defended you until two weeks ago. Then he dropped your case. Now he’s dead." Wolfe didn’t flinch. "Tragic. But what does that have to do with me?" Lisa leaned forward. "We found a message at the scene. ‘I KNOW WHAT YOU DID.’ Ring any bells?" A flicker of something—annoyance? Fear?—crossed Wolfe’s face. "Am I a suspect?" Mark’s gut told him yes, but there was no proof. "Not yet." As they left, Lisa muttered, "That guy’s as guilty as sin." Mark agreed. But without evidence, Wolfe was untouchable. That night, unable to shake the case, Mark stared at the typewriter photo on his desk. Then it hit him. The missing ribbon. What if the ribbon hadn’t been destroyed? What if it had been hidden? Racing back to the crime scene, Mark tore through Nathan’s desk drawers. And there, tucked in the back of a locked compartment, was the missing typewriter ribbon. He unspooled it carefully, holding it under a forensic lamp. The words revealed themselves in sequence, typed in desperation. "Adrian Wolfe. Not a man. A machine. He sees everything." Mark’s breath caught. This wasn’t just a murder. This was something much bigger.
By INFO INSIDER 2 years ago in Criminal
Neerja
Neerja (2016) is a heart-stopping, emotional tribute to the bravery and selflessness of Neerja Bhanot, a flight attendant who gave her life to save the lives of 359 passengers during a hijacking incident in 1986. Directed by Ram Madhvani and starring Sonam Kapoor in the titular role, Neerja is not just a retelling of a heroic tragedy; it is an exploration of human courage, resilience, and the ultimate sacrifice.
By vidun Arambage2 years ago in Criminal
Crunch . Content Warning.
I love the sound of a good crunch. I love gravel crunching under tires; It reminds me of the way autumn leaves crunch. It reminds me of the way snow crunches as my foot compacts snow into tighter layers. The sound of something giving way under the pressure of something heavier, stronger.
By Sandor Szabo2 years ago in Criminal
London Undercover
Long before Detective Wayne Bateman became a private eye, he was an undercover police man within the city of London. He infiltrated some of the biggest gangs to haunt the land, putting an end to their mischief with plenty of evidence to lock the bad guys up for good! There is one truly thrilling tale to tell however, one that gave him the ambition to leave this role behind and go out in his own. In this story; Wayne saw the darkest recesses of the criminal underground, the scum and villainy that cursed (and unfortunately still does) London was incredibly evil, degenerate, cruel and ultimately disgusting to behold. It polluted his mind with newfound horror, disturbing him with the harsh reality that people could actually be this despicable beyond his wildest nightmares. It was the gang known as The Vipers that Wayne was assigned to investigate. The gangsters wore dark green tracksuits with white stripes, this was their identity so that everyone involved knew they were part of the same crime family. There were hundreds of these men and women, all of whom were rough as a dog's ass and were most definitely involved in the drug trade that was spreading through the city like a deadly virus. This was in 2014, when dubstep music was all the rage and nightclubs were sharing the likes of Speed, Molly and Cocaine under the counter. However, as you are about to discover, there was something far more sinister going on behind the curtains. To join the gang was simple, if you could successfully commit a mugging and return the money to the gang leader, this seemed to prove you were loyal to the The Vipers and certainly weren't a cop. Before that, Wayne had to intricate into the gang's society first, learning how to speak in a much rougher accent than his own, that being Cockney and behaving like the locals who dwelled within the council estate near Camden. He first met a young lad who was a part of the gang known as Carl, a mouthy teenager who got into a fight within one of the pubs. It was clear who Carl was due to his gang colours, tracksuit and the things he was saying about getting the whole gang down here to defend him against this absolute beast of a man who was almost forty. Carl didn't stand a chance against this juggernaut, so Wayne stepped in and knocked out the beast within an instant. Everyone in the pub gasped, as the giant fell onto the hardwood floor.
By Joseph Roy Wright2 years ago in Criminal
The Shadow of the Kingpin
In the bustling streets of Caldera City, where neon lights flickered above alleyways and danger lurked behind every corner, Rafael Marino was a name whispered with a mix of fear and reverence. To the outside world, he was a successful businessman, the owner of luxury hotels and high-end restaurants. But beneath the surface, Rafael was the shadowy kingpin who controlled the city’s underworld with an iron fist.
By Mirhadi Tahsin2 years ago in Criminal
Shades for Vengeance
Part One: A City of Rain and Lies Rainfield City, a metropolitan expanse where the sun was more of a faraway fantasy than a reality, dwelt in permanent gloom. The skyline, jagged and filthy, threw black shadows over tiny streets and dilapidated buildings. The affluent lived in the sky, in glass skyscrapers, while the poor battled on the rainy, dirty streets below, where hope was as uncommon as bright skies.
By QuirkTales2 years ago in Criminal
Echoes From A Digital Heart
In the beginning The year is 2024. Technology has permeated every part of life, from artificial intelligence companions to smart cities that anticipate human wants. But amidst the overwhelming digital hum, Layla feels isolated, lost in a routine that numbs more than it comforts.
By QuirkTales2 years ago in Criminal
The Car Thief
Paul Smith was a master at car jacking,he could break into any vehicle discreetly without smashing the windows or setting off the car alarms. He had a special tool, one that looked similar to that of a long, metal wire that crept under the side windows and unlocked the vehicle doors. Then he would climb inside into the driver's seat, quietly close the door and hot wire the vehicle without detection. Then ignite it into drive, fleeing slowly away from the scene as not to make too much noise or garner attention. Paul could do this in his sleep and often worked illegally as a professional thief, one that could successfully steal even the most highly secured cars in the market. He got paid thousands of Great British pounds doing just that. Working for hundreds of shady criminals who wanted the top cars, but couldn't afford them, so hiring Paul was only slightly cheaper, yet worthwhile. The young man had built a reputation as well as an incredible wealth. Paul lived in a mansion within the poshest area of Chelsea, he had the life of a rockstar or popstar, a trophy wife and several super sports cars of his very own. He got to a point where working was pointless, yet he still stole cars for big paydays anyway. Call it greed, but many believed he kept doing it because of the thrill! There was just something so incredibly satisfying and daring about stealing such high end machinery. He couldn't resist, not even if he had all the money in the world, he couldn't stop himself. Not even video games where you rob banks and vehicles could satisfy his itch. Pressing a button to instantly break into any vehicle wasn't a challenge, having virtual police chase him in a video game wasn't thrilling enough for him anyway and the huge pay he got after each job in real life, it fueled his ego more than anything on earth. He'd fuck his wife hard after a good job, something she never complained about despite her protests for him to stop risking their life together. She'd forget about all the danger he put himself (and by extension her) in, when he inserted his dominance inside of her. She'd scream and moan as he'd completely overwhelm her in the bedroom, his cock like ecstasy inside and out. Then the orgasms would end, she'd fall asleep and have nightmares about Paul getting caught by the police, he was a handsome young man too, she worried he'd get abused in prison. That he'd drop the soap, even though that was more likely to happen in an American jail, she'd still dream about him in such terrible circumstances. Every morning she'd beg him to stop, but he'd just kiss her and tease.
By Joseph Roy Wright2 years ago in Criminal
The Rain in South London . Content Warning. AI-Generated.
The Rain in South London The rain lashed against the windows of the Victorian terraced house, mirroring the tempest brewing within Arthur Davies. Fifteen years. Fifteen years had passed since he'd last seen the faces of his daughters, Lily, then a cherubic six-year-old, and Chloe, a precocious ten-year-old. Fifteen years of incarceration for a crime that continued to haunt him, a crime born from a mind twisted by paranoia.
By Monnade Mixoum2 years ago in Criminal
