Tag: crime

All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller

Wee Florrie by Ian Ibbetson.

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The interview room was sweltering. Flies gathered around the one small window high up on the street-side wall. The Scottish summer heat didn’t seem to bother the old woman in the other chair. Archie’s first thought was how cool she looked. The tweed jacket remained on despite the heat and the pearls sat perfectly against the olive green twinset. Every tight white curl had been marshalled precisely into position. His own shirt had begun sticking to his back an hour ago.

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All Stories, Fantasy

The Beggar’s Stone by Peter Biles

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The prisoner woke up in his cell on the edge of the sea early in the morning. He was to die this day, as planned. The sun was white as it rose over the water, and the sky was empty, and the horizon was a pale rind speckled with distant ships. Today there was a white stone on the sill of the barred window that had not been there before; an old beggar who’d been walking by, shouting nonsense about the end of the world, had put it there. The prisoner, a young man who did not want to die and believed he was justified in the murder he committed, did nothing with the stone and thought nothing of it until the early afternoon, when it grew hot in the cell and when he knew his hour of death was nigh. He was to be hanged with three other criminals who were way worse men than he. The guard dropped off a pot of delicious beef stew and a loaf of wheat bread, which he devoured, and then he began to pace the stone floor back and forth. “It can’t be,” he said, and screamed. “I am an innocent man! An innocent man!”

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All Stories, Fantasy, General Fiction

Homecoming Queen by Adam Dorsheimer

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Concerning Boys and Men

Shirley was eavesdropping one night when she heard her mother say that lonely people can’t help but do terrible things. She was bedridden, her mother, laid up with a debilitating melancholy after her latest episode. Her father was in there with her. Shirley imagined him to be glowering over the bed, hands on his hips, but she couldn’t be sure.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Winter Solstice by Mary Jo Thomas

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Police had already handcuffed Roy Stafford and were placing him inside a cruiser when Susan Roberts arrived. Betty Stafford lay on a gurney that the EMS team hurriedly lifted into their van. Flashing her ID to one of the cops, Susan asked, “Where are the girls? Are they OK?”

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller

On the Edge of Gas Stations by Christopher Ananias

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I should take the gun and throw it into the river. The cool morning raises a chill up my back and touches my ears. The ceiling fan spins silently, driving me into the bedroom for my favorite cardigan. I don’t turn off the fan because the little gold chain pulled off in my hand, so it runs and runs. Like it’s making fun of me for being such a loser. The cardigan is gray and fuzzy and once it’s on my shoulders I’m wrapped in a pleasant warmth. My feet are in slippers. A coffee cup steams from the round table by my chair. I cannot lose these comforts, but taped to the kitchen window, a white paper clearly states I can and will. Courtesy of the Sheriff and the BANK if such a thing could ever be called a courtesy.

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All Stories, General Fiction

The Broken Piece of Me by Doyin Ajayi

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Adult Content

For Ann

That sound, sharp.

It slices through the air like a whip. It jolts me awake. I haven’t gotten used to it. The harmattan wind blows through the open windows. I rub my shoulders and try to warm my body up.  The huge searchlight in the yard casts a shadow of the cashew tree on the walls. The branches spook me. They’re wraiths reaching for me, their pointed tips looking like spears aimed at me, reaching for my soul. A woman’s scream. Sergeant Wasiu’s gun cocks again. He’s the chief of the guards – a cruel man with gallows humour. The creeping feeling rises up in me again. The night’s quietness is eerie. The woman’s screams are louder now, they’re bloodcurdling.

The gun roars. Her screams stop abruptly.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Like Lightning by Evangeline Golden

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It’s a fine day for a game. Though the sky is dreary– columns of smoke rise from the building above– the weather is just chilly enough to motivate us to stay moving, focused. We arrived at Mauthausen earlier this afternoon. One of the men had been waiting for us at the station. Our walk to the field was short, the town small but warm– comfortable. The people are nice here. The fuẞballfield is conveniently placed at the end of the main street– the bottom of the hill.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Still Speaking by Christopher Ananias

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I sit among the dandelions by a black glimmering tombstone. It shines bright and final—never a dull moment. A picture of an old woman glares at me—her trespasser. The sprig of fresh lilacs in the bronze vase speaks of a loved one. A dog stands on the road staring at me.

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller

The Voice of the Poor- A Cry for Justice by Torsaa Emmanuel Oryiman 

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For the first time in our lives, we have come to know true terror, the kind that turns human beings into prey, hunted like chickens in the bush. The air in our village is thick with fear, the nights are filled with silence, broken only by muffled sobs and the hurried whispers of those who dare to speak of the evil that has gripped us. The weight of despair sits heavily upon our chests, making each breath feel stolen, each step feels uncertain. Every passing second is a countdown to an unknown fate, and every heartbeat is a reminder of our helplessness.

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