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Write a story about an unlikely criminal or accidental lawbreaker.

Posted in Short Story on Jul 11, 2025

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✍️ 91 stories

Chronicles of a Limerent Object

Winner of Contest #311 🏆

1.He hadn’t meant to idealise her, to put her on a pedestal, to overwhelm. Radiant, she was. She drew people in, shook their hands, pulled up chairs for them. Are you the organiser? she’d been asked. No, she wasn’t. Just a woman with a smile, a woman in a sundress who scooted over and made room for others. What was her name again?And then she directed her smile at him, her warmth, her questions. Matthieu stirred in his seat, gripped tight the neck of his bottle so as not to tremble. He did that sometimes, or rather, the nerves did – as thoug...

90 likes 89 comments 89
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You've Been Flagged

Submitted to Contest #311

“I’m sorry ma’am, you’ve been flagged,” the Bayonne DMV clerk said to Maggie through a bullet-proof glass partition.Sam’s DMV-issued polo hung loosely over his slim frame. A Cornicello necklace dangled around his pencil neck, bouncing off his flat chest as he typed. The poor kid’s spine had a permanent hitch from bending down to examine papers and make computer entries. He peered through the thick glass with bureaucratic suspicion and smoldering contempt, as he repeated, “Your license is flagged, ma’am.”“Flagged? What does that mean?” Maggie...

44 likes 19 comments 19
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The Purrrrpetrator

Submitted to Contest #311

It started with a chicken sandwich.Not a fresh one, either. It had been forgotten in a paper bag on the kitchen counter. Mommy was unloading groceries. The boy had run off to watch cartoons. Dad was muttering about yardwork. The sandwich sat there—unattended, irresistible.Whiskers had never stolen food before. He had stared at it. He had dreamed of it. But he’d never crossed the line.Until that day.The wrapper crinkled as he tugged it to the floor. The bag tipped, flopped, and surrendered its contents like a defeated piñata. He tore into it,...

35 likes 13 comments 13
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An Adventure With POT-MAN

Submitted to Contest #311

"You know," Kevin mused, swirling the amber liquid, "I once invented a concrete-pouring suit. I believed it could have revolutionized the construction industry." Wayne looks up, momentarily distracted from his woes. "A concrete-pouring suit? You mean like…a wearable cement mixer?" Kevin grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Precisely! Though the whole 'constant refilling' aspect proved…problematic. It was less 'revolution' and more 'concrete-covered disaster'." He pauses, a lightbulb seemingly flickering above his head. "But… for potho...

29 likes 7 comments 7
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How to Bury a God

Submitted to Contest #311

Rita didn't mean to stab Death in the heart, but when he reached for her husband's soul, she reacted on instinct. The scalpel was still in her hand from earlier that evening. She'd been cleaning Tom's bedsores with surgical precision, the same methodical care she'd used on shattered soldiers in field hospitals halfway around the world. Her fingers never trembled when they held steel. They trembled now. Death stood beside Tom's bed like a question mark made of shadow and bone. He wore a coat the color of crow feathers, his face neither young ...

25 likes 17 comments 17
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Art Appreciation

Submitted to Contest #311

“Come,” Billy said, circling my wrist with his fingers and pulling me to the garage. I’d just finished transplanting the daffodil bulbs, a mucky mindless operation that Charles used to do each spring, and I welcomed the interruption by this gangly gap-toothed kid. Or, perhaps I should say, young man, because Billy was turning twenty that day. I looked around our garage: lawn mower, gardening hoops, and heaped-up boxes of Charles’ things that make me weep when I open them. Propped against the nail board hung with saws, shovels, and coils of r...

21 likes 12 comments 12
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Here Comes The Judge

Submitted to Contest #311

Here Comes The Judge The judge banged his gavel repeatedly. “Order! Order in the court, I say!”The unruly din continued for another minute or two until the command took root. A woman shrieked loudly and ran across the courtroom. Giggles were heard in the gallery as peanuts get passed around. Playful hand clapping rhythms drummed out. Someone sang 'Baa, Baa, black sheep. Have you any wool?' The prosecutor adjusted his ill fitting suit and emitted a low growl.The gavel pounded again. A kind of hush fell all over the room.The owly judge pronoun...

21 likes 29 comments 29
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Nothing to declare

Submitted to Contest #311

Claire had just congratulated herself for packing like a pro when she nearly tripped over a young man crouched down in the middle of the airport security queue. He was rifling through a splayed cabin case and cramming stuff into a bulging crossbody bag. Claire recognised the plain black soft case from the Aldi aisle of shame. She was ready to step past him with a self-righteous huff when she saw a purple sign: “A little kindness goes a long way. At Suvarnabhumi Airport we treat everyone with respect. All we ask is that you do the same.” She ...

20 likes 10 comments 10
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Honest Abe

Submitted to Contest #311

On the street, they called him Honest Abe. He knew it wasn’t meant kindly. He wasn’t quick, not in the ways people admired, but he could detect it in a look, a tone. The name always landed a little too sharp, like a joke everyone else was in on. They didn’t say “Abe” the way his mother used to.His mother had been a single woman of limited means, but she’d sworn to be there for him, as long and as far as she could. She worked two jobs and was hardly ever home, yet she did everything in her power to keep a warm plate on the table and a roof ab...

17 likes 18 comments 18
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A Chance Not Lost

Submitted to Contest #311

I was about 11 years old when all this happened. My sister and I lived in a small house on the edge of the village with our grandparents. Those times gave me warm and happy memories of a carefree childhood. I often remember my grandfather — how we used to go fishing and fix Granny's stuff. Recently, he left us... It was a very hard time for me. I've always tried to follow his example; he taught me a lot, explained things school never could. I’ll never forget the days I spent with him. Since Grandpa was gone, I began to feel a nagging emptine...

16 likes 1 comment 1
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Frozen Lasagna

Submitted to Contest #311

The blaring summer sun makes my hair stick to the back of my neck. God, I hate summer. This parking lot is hotter than Hades.“Would you like some help, Ma’am?”My heart threatens to jump out of my chest. I turn to find a young, pimply teen walking towards my buggy. His mop of hair is plastered to his face, but he smiles broadly at me enough to signal that I’m not about to be robbed.“Oh, no, that’s alright. I’ve got it,” I say, waving him off.“Are you sure? I don’t mind, I have time—““No, thank you!” I try to say as politely as I can, but it c...

16 likes 10 comments 10
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Bunny

Submitted to Contest #311

“I can’t sleep.” “I’d be amazed if you could, Bunny.” Laurie rolled over and pulled the beaded cord of the bedside lamp. The room filled with a comforting tangerine haze through the smoke. Horizontally, she wriggled to close the space between her and her lady, resting her head in the magical crook between thigh and stomach. Flick, crackle, inhale, exhale. Jane lifted the joint from her lips, leaving a chocolate lip print on the filter, and tilted her head down to lay heavy-lidded eyes on her lover girl. Laurie’s head still spun every t...

16 likes 5 comments 5
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Busted

Submitted to Contest #311

“Grammy! Come on… It’s this way…” Cindy waved to her grandmother, Mabel, from far down the aisle of the department store. Mabel held up her index finger, signaling a pause. She pushed the stroller, occupied by her grandson, Josh, into the cosmetics department. Never missing a chance to find her favorite lipstick, she needed a moment. Can never find them… Why don’t they stock more?Josh rode quietly. Cindy, his older sister by five years was a hot mess. Betraying her impatience, she peered around a display like a spy.“Don’t run off, Cindy, I’m...

15 likes 11 comments 11
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Those Who Dare

Submitted to Contest #311

I look at my right wrist for the seventh time, but they confiscated my watch before escorting me to this room, so I still can’t tell how long I've been sitting here. At least they gave me a cup of water, but I finished that off two wrist-glances ago. So instead I look around the room once more, taking inventory. Wooden table: check. Two wooden chairs on opposite sides of said table (one occupied, one empty): check. Video camera in the upper corner: check. Three different signs advising me of my rights (a laminated page taped firmly in front ...

14 likes 12 comments 12
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Nightshift

Submitted to Contest #311

Bernie Erickson never liked the night shifts. They stretched on like shadows - long, restless, impossible to pin down. But in homicide, preferences didn’t matter. The dead didn’t wait for daylight. Tonight, the precinct smelled of old coffee and rain sneaking in through a cracked window above his cluttered desk. The overhead lights buzzed, flickering just enough to remind him he should go home - but he wouldn’t. Not yet. Three photographs lay before him like a grim puzzle missing its corners. Three victims - three lives snuffed out with the...

14 likes 5 comments 5
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