fiction
Mystery, crime, murder, unsolved cases. Contribute your own tales of crime to Criminal.
Little Black Book
Detective Ally McIntosh was sick of this shit: sick of shitty coffee, hard-back metal chairs, stale doughnuts, and preachy people. She was tired of trying to be sober. Her last incident, she just had a couple of drinks and drove her unmarked police car into an unsuspecting dog and killed it. She did not think it was really a problem, though; she could control herself if she wanted, she just didn’t. Internal Affairs investigated, and they suspended her for six months and forced to see the department shrink and go to AA meetings. The people in the meetings were sympathetic, happy, and all and seemed to mean well but had no idea what the real world was like for her.
By Tony Blankenship5 years ago in Criminal
Evelyn
My decision had been made within the hour. I had left in time because no sooner had I began my mission, but the government vans pulled up and parked outside of our building. My legs felt shaky as I pried the chain link fence aside and pushed through the small steep hill of very dead and overgrown grasses and weeds between our neighbor’s house. When I glanced back, I could no longer see our building. I wasn’t as guilty or afraid as I was impatient. Waiting any longer for my brother, Navi, was just as good as waiting to be killed. Besides, he had been taken away by officials a month ago, for questioning, they said. Waiting to be picked up was ridiculous. I knew it, and only wondered why they hadn’t come for me sooner. I lay on my stomach and peered over the crest of grass with a clearer view of our building. The large white vans parked up in front sat still for a moment longer. Then, the men in their white armored suits piled out and knocked on the door. I winced as they punched the door in and entered. I pinched the pocket of my coat and felt for the small raise indicating that the envelope was still there. I crawled down the embankment and hurried through the next few blocks, trying to get as far from the house as I could.
By Mearyn Roscoe5 years ago in Criminal
The Chef's Secret
It’s 5am. I roll out from my steel bunkbed and straight into the kitchen. I pour the grey oats into a bucket-like saucepan, followed by pints of sickly milk, watching as it sank into the stew like an english marsh. I closed my eyes. I felt the resistance of the gruel as I pushed the wooden spoon through it in slow circles, my mind’s eye picturing it as being some sort of sweet potato and butternut squash soup with just hints of coriander and wafts of tabasco. Every morning, I take these few minutes of peace to just stand here and dream of my life before, outside these prison walls. The money, the fame, the food… Was it better to have it all, however briefly, than to have never had it at all?
By Bibi Lucille5 years ago in Criminal
About Face
Hannah was the only thing that shone bright on that overcast morning. In fact, she was the highlight of any type of day. Her hazel eyes glittered, her brown hair glistened, and her smile radiated exuberance, curiosity, and innocence. At two, she had already charmed the entire neighborhood and by four—her age that day—the parents at her pre-K school often marveled at not just her beauty, but her innate kindness. Their remarks always made me smile with maternal pride, though I sometimes felt slighted on behalf of Sydney who, while perhaps more guarded and slightly tomboyish, was equally good-natured and incredibly bright, but did not generate the same praise as her younger sister.
By Katherine Silvey Bates5 years ago in Criminal
The Freak Accident
I had just left the office to pick up Simon's lunch order from the café in the town canter. He has a standing order there of a ham and cheese toastie, a croissant with jam and cream, black coffee with room for milk, 4 shortbread biscuits and a bottle of water to wash it all down with, for me to collect by 13:15, 6 days a week. The café was happy to have the business I'm sure, as it's always empty when I walk in to pick up the basket they insist on putting his order in, but I have never questioned why; and Simon always gives me a £50 note to tip them with whenever I go. He's rich enough too.
By Jess Bennett5 years ago in Criminal
A 'Little Black Book'
Day 1 The year 2020, had been a very trying year for most in these United States.. but, for Malcolm.. unbeknownst to everyone else in his small community.. the year 2020 had been… let’s just say, “quite giving”, in the strangest of ways.
By Muhammad Hakim II5 years ago in Criminal
