Simple Life

Stepping from the overcrowded rush hour bus was a chore in itself because of ignorant people who are concentrating on another boring day at the office. For Alicia; the mundane occurrence of work is no longer an issue.

Gushing wind was playing havoc with Alicia’s recently straightened hair; her face barely visible through the strands. Not being able to move the hair was the main problem that Alicia had; shopping in one hand and in the other her walking stick, which she was starting to depend on more and more recently. Pain increasing day by day; the medication only relieving the constant agony for a brief time. Alicia’s life was being controlled by her disease; degenerative spinal disease, a prank turned nasty. Since the day that a pupil pulled her chair away; a constant fear and agony has surrounded Alicia.

Passions run deep; true for Alicia in the sense that teaching has been a long time goal. The accident preventing it for a while but now the home schooling of local Selly Oak children is in full flow.

Gerard’s Bookstore in the heart of Selly Oak near Birmingham University has always been the destination for new textbooks when Alicia is concerned. Coming as a student and ever since; Gerard Buchanan has assisted her in anywhere he can with locating books.

Alicia never makes it to Gerard’s, tripping after the crossing leaves her concussed and badly bruised. Detecting her condition; a voice calls over the crowd surrounding her;

“Doctor, coming through” a quick assessment leads to him stating, “She needs to get to A&E.”

Alicia starts to gain consciousness as the words drift away; the dazed face staring at her is familiar but can not place it. Slowly, she falls back under the spell of sleep but this time; not through her injury but the drugs now seeping into her veins.
The nightmare is only just beginning.


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Early morning calls are part of the job for Lewis Jackson; the rushing and moaning can be put up with. The unexpected and the unknown is the scary part.

Walking into your first crime scene fresh from a transfer not only location wise but also position is daunting at least.

Looking around the almost scene, all DCI Jackson could see was the newbie standing next to the removed railing; which he hoped was the entrance.

Smiling politely, he strolled into his maiden case as lead detective. He looked around for any other signs of life; he quickly spotted movement.

“Howdy, partners in crime;” the Manchurian accent more than evident, “let’s done to business.”

“Shut the hell up, cowboy and get your arse down here now,”

The voice bellowing out from under the bridge that Harold Sinclair was just appeared from.
The white condom suit that he was wearing was now knee high in thick brown sludge; the rest of the suit coated with heavy black dust from waist to hood.

“Get a move on, suit on and roll around the mud;” Harold was not impressed at being woken at half four this morning, “your going to want to see what a beauty lies under there.”

Removing his upper protective layers of mask, hood and goggles exposed 25 years of experience as a Crime Scene Officer; the wrinkles, bags under the eyes highlighting the stern, blank face expressions.

The stench of sewage grew stronger as Lewis approached the bridge; the some of culprits for the smell floating slowly past.

Gingerly approaching; the victim came into view as the eyes adjusted to the lack of natural light. The soles of the feet could be seen first; making way to the lower torso; however the upper body was more difficult to outline through the silt and sewage covering the body.

Distancing himself quickly from the reality; Lewis scanned the scene and quickly identified the probable cause. Rope attaching the wrists to the wall through steel ringlets; the feet tied, both were bruised and raw from struggling. Exhaustion leading to drown to death in the disgusting slop that runs down the neglected brook.

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He ensured that the previously squeaky handle was beyond repair and replaced before commencing with tonight’s mission.

Gradually closing the rear door being careful not to raise suspicion. As the door finally closed, the kitchen light flashed on at the second attempt. The difficult task of adjusting his six foot, muscular frame under the kitchen window was quickly undertaken.

The bare granite from the night’s air was bitter on bare hands; progression from clean slabs to the gravel pathway was broken up by the gradual increase in the amount of gravel digging into his hands and knees.

Following the shadows of the fern trees lining the pathway, etching closer to the drone of early morning traffic, he found the hideaway subsequent to passing it twice. Forgetting to sidestep the outskirts of the pond during the second temporary detour left a muddy scuff on the trouser hem.

Gripping tightly, he eased the broken wood further away from the opening exposing the manhole that lay beneath. A quick blast of light from the fading torch bulb illuminated the body that lay stationary between the walls of mud. Tugging effortlessly, the body moved from its grave to higher ground. Cursing all his forwarding planning when he knew the wheelbarrow, that he once hid has now been moved to the safety of the tool shed a few yards away.

His footsteps, heavy and strong against the stillness of the morning, and the normally graceful and well-practiced stride, were broken as he pushed the copious weight. As the tall, green railing began to come into view he knew his destination was drawing closer. He soon realised searching for the key would be a prolonged experience due to the feeling of doubt that began to engulf all rational thought processes; as this feeling grew stronger, the natural reaction of scanning the surrounding area took over. After an eternity of numbness, reality began to take over and all nervous dread faded into the morning sunlight that started to break through. Taking the treasured first steps towards shutting out the outside world; leaving only his thoughts and the prized contents of the wheelbarrow.

The relaxed daze came over, broke through the tough mental exterior as the traffic drone subsiding into the background and the final destination just beyond the nearing conifers arrived. A soft breeze brushed past releasing a drool of sweat down the back of his neck; the shivers that follow relieving the built up tension.

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