Speculative Fiction by Liz Lydic One by one, they came into his life and then went out. “No drama,” was the investment broker’s warning, and then, at the point of ending the relationship, was the reason for the final break. He’d drive to the girl’s residence under average circumstances; she, delighted in seeing him, would go in for a kiss. Placing his hand up to stop her, he’d point back to his double-parked expensive car and begin the quick untangling. “Too much drama,” he’d say, and the girl – tall and lean and sharp-angled, unmarked pale skin from head to toe, someone who came from money, a ..read more

Crime Fiction By Alex Finch (Graphic Content Warning) Most only know me as The Raiin Killer. Nobody knows who I am beneath the mask. Or that I’m almost always smiling. Well, I guess this journal is a tribute to my dead psychiatrist. She was a fighter until the end, I had to admire that. She always told me to keep two journals, one for good moments, one for bad. This is one of the few good moments. So, I’ll jot down everything I can recall. Good memories wash away like sand in the tides, you know. Let’s start with earlier last night. Let’s see, it was a school holiday, my target was in town, vi ..read more

True Crime By Chris Bunton Frank Lloyd Wright is one of the most famous architects in the world. He lived and worked between 1867 and 1959. His works have inspired millions, but at the same time, his life had dark tragedies. I have been a fan of Frank Lloyd Wright for quite some time, and try to visit his structures everywhere I travel. This time I got to visit his home in Spring Green, Wisconsin. The beauty of the site and the savagery of this tale contrast with each other. But, let’s go back to where this thread of Frank’s life started. He was young and working out of his studio in Oak Park ..read more

Crime Fiction By Dick Johnson It was a sad day in a house full of assholes, and I was dying. It wasn’t always sad, like it wasn’t always daytime, but they were probably always assholes. It was a house in St. Louis. It was one of those slum houses.  I’d tell you where, but no one really cares. It was a crack house and I had gone there for a buy. I parked at an old church down the street which was the way T-Bone and the boys wanted it. When I exited the car I felt like I was being watched so I looked at the church building. A brick structure that looked like it was built in better times, bu ..read more

Crime Fiction by E.P. Lande Jack stood in the rain, wondering what he should do. He had borrowed from everyone he knew, and now no one returned his phone calls. He had been fired from his job for being drunk — again — and, at his age, he didn’t believe his prospects for finding another position with the same salary and benefits were very good. Even for the most menial of service jobs — like slinging hamburgers in a McDonald’s — he wouldn’t be hired. Everything he had in the world he had on his back. He had been thrown out of the apartment he’d been living in for the past year, as he owed the l ..read more

Crime Fiction by Kevin Hopson I stared at the back of the woman, her coffee-tinted hair resting along her shoulders as she munched on a blueberry muffin. Though I couldn’t see her face from where I sat, I knew it was Lauren. I watched her enter the diner earlier, and she matched the photo her husband Shane had given me. But if there was any lingering doubt, it was quickly extinguished when the lone waitress referred to her by name. It wasn’t a surprise given the small town and how often Lauren frequented the place. “You did good,” a woman’s voice said, startling me. I turned my head to look. I ..read more

Crime Fiction By Andy Betz He eventually had to come to work again.  He knew I was waiting here for him.  Where else would he go?  I just wish he would not take so long.  We had a long night of discussions and decisions ahead of us. He did walk in at 9:15.  No more costumes today.  George wore what I expected of him; a nice suit, a nice tie, and his nice .357mag revolver pointed at my head.  He was serious, but not displaying any outwardly aggressive signs.  I, on the other hand, held all of the cards.  If he shoots me, he gets a series of needles i ..read more

Crime Fiction By Megan Thompson “The dead still get goosebumps”, I state with a sly smile to the group that has gathered in the office kitchen. They give me a chuckle, and I wink back. They are used to these odd statements from me, it’s one of my signatures moves. What they perceive as “quirky”, I see it as a “there were hints” moment. There’s an adrenaline rush when I drop these lines, they of course, don’t understand. They also don’t know that I’m eating Heather from the HR on a toasted brioche bun with a smear of aioli, fresh romaine lettuce, feta crumbles, and a juicy garden tomato. When t ..read more

True Crime by Chris Bunton On August 29, 2009  a 911 call was made by Guy Heinze Jr. Stating that his family had been murdered. 7 bodies were found with two injured. One of the injured people died two days later, Making the body count 8. The victims had suffered blunt force trauma and Guy Heinze Jr became the main suspect. He was charged with tampering of evidence and drug possession. He was indicted in September of 2009 for murder, based upon DNA evidence found at the scene. It was believed that he was smoking crack, and got into an argument over some pain pills, and then went around ki ..read more

Crime Fiction by Miriam Ivo Cruz August 16th, 8:33 AM. Washta County Precinct, Iowa. Detective Jeffrey Lauchman, Miss Mary-Anne Gill. Start of Interview.” The detective reclined in his chair. “So, Gill.” He eyed her. “Where do we begin?” There were scratches, and hand-prints there. A face, too, in the room’s great mirror. But Mary-Anne Gill, whose seat faced the image, avoided it. Tapping her foot, picking at her nails, she was intent on a brown spot of mould on the drywall ceiling. She blinked confused, sleep was still a cloud over her. “Tell me about the night of the 12th.” Her voice came fr ..read more