A Murderous Talent

The water sounded almost as if it was whispering to itself. The way it gushed around the bloated body and encouraged crimson swirls of blood to spiral out from the figure was almost calming. Tendrils of the mixture snaked around nearby rocks and stained the overhanging grass from a pure green to a sickly red. Bruising on the temples with a leaching wound reaching from a stubbled left cheek down the neck and under the collar. It was evident that the shoes were missing as a single blue and white striped sock bobbed its way downstream at a pace a snail could beat. No murder weapon was to be seen nearby...yet. This just made things more like a game of Cluedo. Was it Professor Green in the garden with a candlestick? Or perhaps Madam Peacock in the neighbor's hedge with a revolver? It was my job to sort things out - it was always my job to sort things out.

 Detectives, policeman, dogs; they were always useless, always bumbling around and tripping over the evidence from one another and constantly jibing with the Judge over the most fickle details while skipping the most important part of an investigation. Finding the culprit and the history of the victim. That's what I did, no matter how many times I've been told to "keep my bloody nose out of it". I've always hunted, sniffed, tracked and traced the culprit down to the very last nose hair found at the scene of the crime AND I've always come out with results. Let's just say some love me and some hate me - it all depends upon your perspective.

However no matter how many past investigations I've solved or uncovered, as I look down upon the body floating in front of me, having little to no long-term memory - I know that this time things will be different. To say this case is a near impossibility is an understatement. For you see, this time - I am the victim; the body is mine.