Crime Night In Brum

Kareem Rahman

CHAPTER 1

A frost lit city of disheveled skyscrapers and factories stretched out beneath a crisp black sky across a snowy horizon. Birmingham was a winter ecosystem of festive shoppers, overworked employees, and ambitious unseen variables and was now transitioning into its natural mid-December state. Capitalizing on its consumerism and celebration, a silver taxi cruised through the festively lit outskirts to cathedral park.

On route to this monument to the cities world war two glory days, sleeping cars drifted while flashing lights whipped by from above. On the busy overpass that binded soho to hockley hill, the silver hatchback glided between cars as primal smoke rose from the chimneys of manufacturing buildings. Submerging below the smokey tops, it drove into the underground tunnel of the A38. A small squadron of flashing brakelights and slow moving traffic briefly impeded its progress, but not for long. Overcoming these common nuisances of city travel, and now beneath the dim shadow of a cathedral engulfed in electric Christmas lights, it stopped with a creak.

Yuto Sato, a young looking man of Japanese descent with disheveled black hair, stepped out of the cab.

“Four pounds twenty and seven pence,” demanded the driver, his accent eastern and thick.

Yuto turned towards the open window to the driver. Annoyed, he sighed and digged into his pockets for the necessary cash.

“Have a good Christmas,” Yuto said begrudgingly, handing it over.

“Yeah yeah.”

Closing the interaction between them with his half-assed response, the driver winded up his car’s window. As the glass sealed between them, he slammed the accelerator, disappearing into the nightly chaos of pre-christmas traffic.

Prick and here I was trying to be nice, Yuto thought, zipping his coat to keep out the cold. Suffocated by this prevailing sensation, cathedral park, a criss-crossing of light crammed streets around a frost -coated rectangualar center, was unsurprisingly packed with people. This herd of snow-capped wooly hats, bald heads, and frizzy hair, wondered aimlessly to spend or most commonly to drink. Completely pissed, a few dozen men drank across the street at the tables outside a local pub, laughing and shouting about their work leave for the holiday.

“Bring out the shots you twat,” one of them yelled, unable to stand straight and half-ready to topple into traffic.

“That should be me” yuto mumbled, starting towards the usual pick up spot.

CHAPTER 2 - COMING SOON