Written by Gora Shade

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100% written by a human, for humans

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For the dreamers who are always in a constant state of adventure, if only in their heads.

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Mae stretched her neck, her chin forward to the sky, allowing the late afternoon sun to soak her face. She inhaled the rich atmosphere of the busy city with its rush of people on the sidewalks, aromas wafting from food kiosks amidst the bombardment of color and sound that was a near-constant assault. She would miss Tokyo, but her two weeks of lone self-adventure had come to an end. It was time to leave Japan.

She wheeled her standard carry-on behind her and felt fortunate to spot a waiting yellow taxicab, its telltale horizontal red stripe along the sides and plastic light on top. The beacon wasn’t lit, but it wouldn’t be the first time Mae had charmed a driver off their cigarette break and got on her way.

Mae threw open the door and tossed her luggage on the seat. A driver was indeed sitting idle, but the air in the car was charged, and the black leather gloves gripping the wheel flexed impatiently.

A sharp voice gave a less than subtle, verbal hiss. “Dete ike.”

Mae cleared her throat and shifted forward. She didn’t want to get out. She’d picked up a few words and phrases during her stay, and although most people she encountered appreciated her effort, her language skills were shoddy at best. “Gomen nasai. Nihongo ga wakarimasen.”

The driver turned around, painted eyes narrowing, chunks of blue-streaked hair peeking out from under a tight-fitting black stocking hat. “How nice for you,” she forced through gritted teeth, the scent of her strawberry gum sifting towards the backseat. “You don’t understand Japanese.” She gripped the steering wheel again and shouted, “Get out,” with a force that bounced off the windows.

“Sorry,” Mae croaked. She had less than an hour to get to the airport and suspected she’d be stuck in heavy city traffic for the duration. She had to try. She put on her best smile. “Listen, I’m just trying to catch a flight—”

The driver’s arm twisted in a fluid swoosh, the narrow barrel of a shiny metal pistol staring Mae in the face. The hammer cocked with deafening thunder, the woman’s voice hard as tempered steel. “I said…Get. Out.”

Mae’s hand trembled in search of the door handle, her breath hitched somewhere between her throat and the falling sensation in the pit of her stomach. She heard the latch release amid the pounding of her pulse in her ears, and set her boot upon the concrete. She couldn’t process the situation, but knew she’d made a grievous error.

Across from the cab, a rush of men exploded from the main entrance of a building. An English sign above Japanese characters read The Gold Dragon, and statues of snake-like creatures guarded the...

The Girl in the Taxicab