Suspects. Always the major point of a investigation. Always made out to be the bad guy, but what if you looked at their stories first? What if we looked at them not for what they had done but for what had been done to them? What had caused them to come to such a point.
Suspects remind me of the series Sherlock… who are the suspects in the crime? I don’t know. It usually turns out to be the person that you would least expect that committed the wrong. Sometimes it’s someone you trusted. Oftentimes it’s the person that everyone trusted, including the protagonist. Suspects in a crime are always played out to look a lot worse than they really are, and the suspects are often wrongly accused. Correct? I don’t know what i’m saying, i live in the suburbs.
The line of people varied. The tall, scraggly-looking male of about thirty years seemed the most possible. The short stumpy teen was next. He seemed a little too sure that it wasn’t his time. There were more, and they were all suspects for the rape and murder of the young girl Caroline Jenkins.
The suspects lined up in a row, waiting for the victim to identify the one who did the crime. In their striped jumpsuits, they held cards with their numbers on it. They were tense, waiting for their fate. Although each had a different victim, they can never tell.
suspects are usually involved in crimes. i hope id never be a suspect in a serious crime.. that’d be awkward. suspects are sometimes misunderstood. or dangerous. suspects suspects suspects.
Jesus. The usual suspects were right in front of me. My brother and sister. My glasses were gone and I knew that one of them had it. The twin terrors from straight from hell had taken my glasses again. At least this was one of their milder pranks. Who kne
While walking down the street, the boy looked thought the glass window into a barber shop. On the floor he noticed, a little more than hair. Three bodies layed motionless on the floor. Moments later the cops arrived, and he was seen by a witness running around the street corner. They never found him.
He suspects something. I can tell easy enough. There’s a crease in his forehead, a glimmer in his eye, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Trent suspects that I’m up to something, and I’ll give him that. Perhaps he’s not as stupid as I originally thought. Liam, cut it out. It’s not the time to worry about Trent’s inner tur-
OOH! A BUTTERFLY!
“LIAM! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
Sorry, Felix. I’m coming…
I suspect you have been in love with her for some time now. I have the two of you on my “SUSPECTS” list, pinned to my wall like a line-up. only i know it’s you from the start. always, never there.
I always feel like one. I know that wherever I am. I am stared at like there is something wrong with me. Like they are just waiting for me to do something wrong. It’s paranoia 24/7 for me. Not lovely. Bad guys? I’m not one of them… Am I?
there was a man quiet and suspicious walking the world with other likewise men. all scrambling with wicked thoughts of wicked actions to carry out to innocent individuals. we do not yet know who you are. but we will find you.
Unlikely suspects for doing things. No one ever suspect children. They always seem the most innocent, but often times, they’ve seen the worst. No one ever suspects me; everyone thinks I’ve lived a candy coated life.
When your boyfriend has a bunch of pictures with hot girls when he’s in Norway and you’re in the states. You see them as suspects for breaking up your relationship. I suspect him of being tempted by these hot girls.
Are you kidding? I already wrote a whole entire novel about some guy named Officer Danby with his son as a suspect in a big murder investigation, but now that’s all gone and I have to write something else entirely because I can’t remember a word of my previous story. So here’s what I’m writing in the allotted minute because I wasn’t able to send in my amazing albeit somewhat cliche story about Officer Danby. So yeah.
There has been a crime. and there is but one suspect. a broken heart left shattered across the floor its tainted with lust and soaked in love. see this heart was pulled but the first then fell into the later. what happens now, it does not matter.
It seemed to be a nice enough company. Roy was in charge of hiring models. They were NOT a nice enough company, and Roy was in charge of hiring victims.
Models were a cover-up.
She walks in, suspects nothing. She is hired. She disappears. She is dead.
“Shit, man. We’re fucked. Get us out of here!” screamed the teen. He and his “possy” dived for cover and crawled as fast as they could to the getaway car.
Our paranoia causes us to suspect the worst in any situation. Who’s whispering gossip behind our backs? Who’s using us to their own means? Why do they stare at us like we’re aliens, when we’re all human the same?
we’re always suspects in this game. Guilty til proven innocent, but if this is guilty then i dont want to be innocent. I glow like a star of realisation, emerging from behind cloudy skies. Whizzing away as the universe expands at ultraspeed. Watch me go and wonder if you’ll ever see me again. I’m so far out of sight that I cant imagine going back.
As I look through the pile of suspects, my blood runs cold, for within the pile is a photo of myself. Quietly to myself I consider removing it from the pile, but I fear they will notice that it is gone. I take a deep breath and slowly back away from the table knowing that now I will have to be far more careful from this point on.
I was standing in the hall being interrogated for being suspect of having killed a one John Ingram. It didn’t help my case that his body was also in the hall, laying face-down in a pool of his own blood. I was trying to explain why I was standing above his corpse holding the lamp that was used to bash in the back of his head, but the situation had become so convoluted, that my case was not looking good. I was innocent, after-all.
As I take my time to see who is around me, I glance over my shoulder to see a man. he appeared out of nowhere.. that is when I started running. Running for my life but most of all, running for my family. Scream! I told myself… hope my inner voice wispered… I need to live… I need to get out of here…..
There were two of them. Perfectly aligned on the fence as we watched them. Two furry, fuzzy cats, both staring at us with wide eyes. Wide, innocent, glowing eyes. Both perfectly white, but for the splotches of ink that stained their fur.
The usual suspects that they brought into the police station didn’t have the same rugged look about them as John did. It was a stupid assumption to make, but he was the sort of man you didn’t cross in a dark alley – the sort of man who steered clear of incandescence and ventured right into the throes of a darkness so consuming that it created a black hole around an individual. He preferred to be alone, and that’s why so many suspected that there was much more to him than met the eye.
The suspects were motioned to line up in front of the officers, from tallest to shortest. The tallest suspect stood at 4 feet. The shortest stood at 3 feet and 10 inches.
“God…” said Officer Greg to Lieutenant Jared, “there’s no way these kids murdered that woman…”
“Lets pray not.” and that’s all Jared said.
They were all suspicious, every last one of them. I didn’t want to admit it, but I had to tell someone, they were all guilty of the crime one way or another. I mean, who wouldn’t think they were? By their smug looks and dark, sunken eyes?
there were the guys in a bar, who looked like they had been down on their luck. after a few drinks the phone rang and they all snapped a look over to the bartender, he looked back. about twenty mins later the cops come bursting through the door with guns drawn.
thinks, wonders, supposes, assumes…often incorrect? maybe real? crime. mischief. a secret. exposing something about someone, or something, or somewhere. thinks. worries? labels, tries to define, seeks a narrative truth, identifies as different or wrong or “other” or normal or right or true or deceptive
In a small town full of mystery there is always suspects. There is one suspect in a certain case that is full of evil. She holds a power so evil that there is a name for it. The name thoygh is so evil and cursed that no one can speak it. This woman owns the town and rules with evil. She cause children to fall silent while in middle of games when she walks by.
She suspects fowl play. I suspect her suspicion is more true than I’d like to believe. So a choice bubbles up from the pot: Do I investigate the truth and risk life, limb and happiness? Or do I shy away from trouble, live ignorant but live happily?
Suspects, reminds me of crime fighting television shows. Also, in my personal life, I have been a suspect of many things. It can be a simple accusation, or someone can just suspect you doing something. Suspects can be innocent.
He was one of them. Always a suspect. It made sense given his past, even more given his nature now. After all, how was one supposed to trust a demon? There were certain things he’d come to expect after coming back from hell. Suspicion was one of them. With a grin he joined the line up.
He had already known that he and Jake would be the usual suspects, they always were in situations like this. They were poor and seen as trouble makers, but they hadn’t wanted a lick of trouble in their whole lives, and this time, being the suspects would prove to be deadly.
there are many things that could make a person a suspect, or we could realize some one suspects us of doing something. Whatever the case the suspicion that rises from people gives way to our insecurities and little sense of worth.
I believe hes a suspect. He is wearing black clothes. He is looking at me creepy. I feel like Indiana Jones. I believe i have no idea what im writing. The word suspect is really good. Suspect. There are suspects everywhere.
Glamorous
Stranger dark as night
except when given into the light
poor man
greedy man
put up a fight
scream and scream
put out their lights
are they wrong? are they right?
did they go without a fight?
We are the usual suspects. We don’t belong here and we never will. Our goals and purposes are undeniable, yet they are unaccepted by the greater population. It is almost useless to try to make them understand.
Suspects. Always the major point of a investigation. Always made out to be the bad guy, but what if you looked at their stories first? What if we looked at them not for what they had done but for what had been done to them? What had caused them to come to such a point.
Suspects remind me of the series Sherlock… who are the suspects in the crime? I don’t know. It usually turns out to be the person that you would least expect that committed the wrong. Sometimes it’s someone you trusted. Oftentimes it’s the person that everyone trusted, including the protagonist. Suspects in a crime are always played out to look a lot worse than they really are, and the suspects are often wrongly accused. Correct? I don’t know what i’m saying, i live in the suburbs.
The line of people varied. The tall, scraggly-looking male of about thirty years seemed the most possible. The short stumpy teen was next. He seemed a little too sure that it wasn’t his time. There were more, and they were all suspects for the rape and murder of the young girl Caroline Jenkins.
The suspects lined up in a row, waiting for the victim to identify the one who did the crime. In their striped jumpsuits, they held cards with their numbers on it. They were tense, waiting for their fate. Although each had a different victim, they can never tell.
suspects are usually involved in crimes. i hope id never be a suspect in a serious crime.. that’d be awkward. suspects are sometimes misunderstood. or dangerous. suspects suspects suspects.
Jesus. The usual suspects were right in front of me. My brother and sister. My glasses were gone and I knew that one of them had it. The twin terrors from straight from hell had taken my glasses again. At least this was one of their milder pranks. Who kne
While walking down the street, the boy looked thought the glass window into a barber shop. On the floor he noticed, a little more than hair. Three bodies layed motionless on the floor. Moments later the cops arrived, and he was seen by a witness running around the street corner. They never found him.
He suspects something. I can tell easy enough. There’s a crease in his forehead, a glimmer in his eye, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Trent suspects that I’m up to something, and I’ll give him that. Perhaps he’s not as stupid as I originally thought. Liam, cut it out. It’s not the time to worry about Trent’s inner tur-
OOH! A BUTTERFLY!
“LIAM! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
Sorry, Felix. I’m coming…
I suspect you have been in love with her for some time now. I have the two of you on my “SUSPECTS” list, pinned to my wall like a line-up. only i know it’s you from the start. always, never there.
I always feel like one. I know that wherever I am. I am stared at like there is something wrong with me. Like they are just waiting for me to do something wrong. It’s paranoia 24/7 for me. Not lovely. Bad guys? I’m not one of them… Am I?
there was a man quiet and suspicious walking the world with other likewise men. all scrambling with wicked thoughts of wicked actions to carry out to innocent individuals. we do not yet know who you are. but we will find you.
Unlikely suspects for doing things. No one ever suspect children. They always seem the most innocent, but often times, they’ve seen the worst. No one ever suspects me; everyone thinks I’ve lived a candy coated life.
When your boyfriend has a bunch of pictures with hot girls when he’s in Norway and you’re in the states. You see them as suspects for breaking up your relationship. I suspect him of being tempted by these hot girls.
Are you kidding? I already wrote a whole entire novel about some guy named Officer Danby with his son as a suspect in a big murder investigation, but now that’s all gone and I have to write something else entirely because I can’t remember a word of my previous story. So here’s what I’m writing in the allotted minute because I wasn’t able to send in my amazing albeit somewhat cliche story about Officer Danby. So yeah.
There has been a crime. and there is but one suspect. a broken heart left shattered across the floor its tainted with lust and soaked in love. see this heart was pulled but the first then fell into the later. what happens now, it does not matter.
It seemed to be a nice enough company. Roy was in charge of hiring models. They were NOT a nice enough company, and Roy was in charge of hiring victims.
Models were a cover-up.
She walks in, suspects nothing. She is hired. She disappears. She is dead.
Crime. Dark. Corners. Alleys. The stars shine dimly through the cloud cover.
“Put your hands up!” the cop screamed.
“Shit, man. We’re fucked. Get us out of here!” screamed the teen. He and his “possy” dived for cover and crawled as fast as they could to the getaway car.
Our paranoia causes us to suspect the worst in any situation. Who’s whispering gossip behind our backs? Who’s using us to their own means? Why do they stare at us like we’re aliens, when we’re all human the same?
we’re always suspects in this game. Guilty til proven innocent, but if this is guilty then i dont want to be innocent. I glow like a star of realisation, emerging from behind cloudy skies. Whizzing away as the universe expands at ultraspeed. Watch me go and wonder if you’ll ever see me again. I’m so far out of sight that I cant imagine going back.
As I look through the pile of suspects, my blood runs cold, for within the pile is a photo of myself. Quietly to myself I consider removing it from the pile, but I fear they will notice that it is gone. I take a deep breath and slowly back away from the table knowing that now I will have to be far more careful from this point on.
My new book Ken Saunders retiree – The older I get the faster I was soon to be published at blub.com
I was standing in the hall being interrogated for being suspect of having killed a one John Ingram. It didn’t help my case that his body was also in the hall, laying face-down in a pool of his own blood. I was trying to explain why I was standing above his corpse holding the lamp that was used to bash in the back of his head, but the situation had become so convoluted, that my case was not looking good. I was innocent, after-all.
As I take my time to see who is around me, I glance over my shoulder to see a man. he appeared out of nowhere.. that is when I started running. Running for my life but most of all, running for my family. Scream! I told myself… hope my inner voice wispered… I need to live… I need to get out of here…..
There were two of them. Perfectly aligned on the fence as we watched them. Two furry, fuzzy cats, both staring at us with wide eyes. Wide, innocent, glowing eyes. Both perfectly white, but for the splotches of ink that stained their fur.
The usual suspects that they brought into the police station didn’t have the same rugged look about them as John did. It was a stupid assumption to make, but he was the sort of man you didn’t cross in a dark alley – the sort of man who steered clear of incandescence and ventured right into the throes of a darkness so consuming that it created a black hole around an individual. He preferred to be alone, and that’s why so many suspected that there was much more to him than met the eye.
The suspects were motioned to line up in front of the officers, from tallest to shortest. The tallest suspect stood at 4 feet. The shortest stood at 3 feet and 10 inches.
“God…” said Officer Greg to Lieutenant Jared, “there’s no way these kids murdered that woman…”
“Lets pray not.” and that’s all Jared said.
They were all suspicious, every last one of them. I didn’t want to admit it, but I had to tell someone, they were all guilty of the crime one way or another. I mean, who wouldn’t think they were? By their smug looks and dark, sunken eyes?
there were the guys in a bar, who looked like they had been down on their luck. after a few drinks the phone rang and they all snapped a look over to the bartender, he looked back. about twenty mins later the cops come bursting through the door with guns drawn.
thinks, wonders, supposes, assumes…often incorrect? maybe real? crime. mischief. a secret. exposing something about someone, or something, or somewhere. thinks. worries? labels, tries to define, seeks a narrative truth, identifies as different or wrong or “other” or normal or right or true or deceptive
In a small town full of mystery there is always suspects. There is one suspect in a certain case that is full of evil. She holds a power so evil that there is a name for it. The name thoygh is so evil and cursed that no one can speak it. This woman owns the town and rules with evil. She cause children to fall silent while in middle of games when she walks by.
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She suspects fowl play. I suspect her suspicion is more true than I’d like to believe. So a choice bubbles up from the pot: Do I investigate the truth and risk life, limb and happiness? Or do I shy away from trouble, live ignorant but live happily?
Suspects, reminds me of crime fighting television shows. Also, in my personal life, I have been a suspect of many things. It can be a simple accusation, or someone can just suspect you doing something. Suspects can be innocent.
He was one of them. Always a suspect. It made sense given his past, even more given his nature now. After all, how was one supposed to trust a demon? There were certain things he’d come to expect after coming back from hell. Suspicion was one of them. With a grin he joined the line up.
He had already known that he and Jake would be the usual suspects, they always were in situations like this. They were poor and seen as trouble makers, but they hadn’t wanted a lick of trouble in their whole lives, and this time, being the suspects would prove to be deadly.
there are many things that could make a person a suspect, or we could realize some one suspects us of doing something. Whatever the case the suspicion that rises from people gives way to our insecurities and little sense of worth.
I believe hes a suspect. He is wearing black clothes. He is looking at me creepy. I feel like Indiana Jones. I believe i have no idea what im writing. The word suspect is really good. Suspect. There are suspects everywhere.
Glamorous
Stranger dark as night
except when given into the light
poor man
greedy man
put up a fight
scream and scream
put out their lights
are they wrong? are they right?
did they go without a fight?
We are the usual suspects. We don’t belong here and we never will. Our goals and purposes are undeniable, yet they are unaccepted by the greater population. It is almost useless to try to make them understand.