fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
The Book!
She sat in the dark alley, her tears blending with the pouring rain. People walked past her, pulling up their collars, or turning their heads away from the pelting drops. No one noticed the petite girl with the sad eyes sitting beside the dumpster. That was until the black limo stopped in front of her. The window cracked and smoke billowed out. “Get in.” A deep husky voice commanded. This was the icing on the cake, she thought as she stood up. Her wet hair was plastered to her forehead and neck. Her hoodie had provided very little protection and now was just heavy from the water. The door opened and without another moment, she slipped in. A burly man with a black goatee and a charcoal suit sat across from her. He didn’t say anything, just made a small gesture which signaled the driver to go.
By K. E. Thomas5 years ago in Criminal
Root of Inheritance
‘All empires are created of blood and fire.’ Let me expound with a story about a nine-year-old boy who was walking home with two little girls from school. As they were walking through their neighborhood, the children heard gunshots. Instinctually, they stopped in their tracks and ducked close to a black sedan in front of their apartment building. Seconds after, a sweltering man scurried from behind the building waving a gun in his hand. The man saw the three children laying low, so he ran towards them.
By Kimberly D. Dantica5 years ago in Criminal
Lucky Penny
Fifty years prior, give or take a week or two, when the town maintenance crew laid down the new sidewalk, there had been a movement sponsored by the local Rotary Club to plant 1,000 new trees in the community. This attempt at civic beautification was meant to serve dual purposes – revitalize the town after a period of economic and emotional downturn in the 1960’s due to a disproportionately high number of young local casualties of the foreign war in Vietnam, and allow the local Rotary Club to fulfil their nationally mandated service project for fiscal year 1971. With little to argue against, the town council passed the measure 7-0 and 1,000 oak saplings were introduced to bare patches of dirt all around the town, each sapling unaware of their ordained roles as saviors of the recovering township.
By Adam H. Johnson 5 years ago in Criminal
The treasure book
I started to run for my life, when they started to shot at us in the building. I knew this was not going to be easy with other parties looking for the same treasure as us. "Run!" yelled Corey to the others in the group. Half the party ran upstairs and the other half us ran down the hallway. Then as I ran down the hall, I trip and the little black book slide out of my hand and hit the wall. I saw someone by the wall with a a gun, so I rolled into the open door to get away. "Corey, are you all right?" Yelled Jennifer. But before I get to far ahead of myself in this story, let me take you back to the began when this all started.
By Crazy Heart5 years ago in Criminal
Overtime Is Overrated
Now, I ain't never told a story before, not sat down and scribbled one on paper anyhow. Comin' up in 1960s Mississippi didn't lend much thinking to anything but keeping my black hide on my black ass. There's some hateful people down there back then. That's why I come up here in '75 to find work. Well, that and chasing this big-legged caramel-colored gal kept runnin' 'round my brains and causing a ruckus in my draws. But that's a whole 'nother ordeal right there.
By Andre Bacon5 years ago in Criminal
Sam Eagle P.I.
Samuel Erchinski took his retirement early. He had enough of the shootings, the rapes and robberies. When he handed his badge to the Captain, he let it be known that it was now going to be the easy life. He had bought an old run down house in downtown L.A. It needed a load of nails and screws and a gallon of paint. He still kept his apartment in the big smoke and this little house was going to be his art studio. Sam had a yen to paint.
By John Trewin5 years ago in Criminal
Carousel
The ornate golden harp lay on its side where it had fallen. Two strings were broken. He did not know which two strings, as he did not play the harp. “Maybe next time around,” he thought. For several reasons, it was no surprise the harp had fallen: for one, it had been balanced on a tiny black book. The miniscule book was hardly larger than a postage stamp, no thicker than a doubloon, and had a capital “O,” in ornate gold script, embossed on the cover. The book lay where the base of the harp would have been, in plain sight, but as the detective put him in handcuffs, and he said, “Do you see that?” the detective said, “See what?” And when he looked again, the book was gone; but he had a sense of a swishing movement out of the corner of his eye. He threw the detective a puzzled look, but then they were hustling him away and he had no chance to ask further. “Could you grab my coat, please?” he asked over his shoulder of the other detective, who then picked up the tuxedo coat and draped it through the cuffed hands of the prisoner. They ushered him outside and into the waiting clown car. It was overcrowded inside, of course. And it smelled funny.
By David Hawes5 years ago in Criminal
Zotzed by the Ghosted
Zotzed by the Ghosted Theo dropped the bag on the coffee table, letting out a long sigh. It fell on its side, the bundles of cash spilling out but he didn’t bother to correct it. All six of the locks on the door had been secured, and no one was getting in here. And even if they did, Theo’s roommate Alec could take care of them.
By Roxanne Ramirez-Searcy5 years ago in Criminal
