Crime drama Stories

“I said closer,” Asma said in a low voice, the sound of her words amplified with a strange energy Gabriel knew but could not quite place. The tall, handsome Hispanic man blinked and tried to remember what he was about to say. His fingers worked at one of the buttons of his black sport coat as he tried to recall. Gabe meant to glance at Asma. Only glance. She seemed to subtly glow in the parlor’s mood lights, reflected gle...

My name is Waxy; and the map to my life is on my face, bodyand hands: a patchwork of scars and badly healed fractures. I first got pinched when I was eleven; stealing fruit from the back of cart vendors as they moved through the neighbourhood and then selling it on for a dime a piece. It was as honest as work as I could get and when you’re born into poverty; right and wrong don’t factor in life too much. That is, unless i...