The Marsh

David had seen more crime scenes in his life than he’d like to admit, he was a workaholic with little to no life outside of the force. As a result he was the go to “on call” detective and was usually first on the scene once the police had called in suspicious circumstances. He had however, never been called to a Peat Bog to investigate a crime. So as he walked down the misty path at 5.45am on a dreary Thursday morning, he was struck by a novel feeling that had him wondering what would happen if he stepped to the left into the marshy, mushy landscape. The mischievous young boy inside him wanting to test the sponge like ground; the sensible crime scene preserving adult telling him to keep in line and walk straight towards the white tent ahead of him.

“Dave, we’re over here”. Dave looked up to see Seargent Lemmings waving him over. “Not seen one like this for a long time, there’s pieces of him everywhere.”

David had learnt to expect anything in this job, but he was slightly grumbled at Seargent Lemmings prelude to the crime scene as he usually prefferred to observe with neutrality as he first entered the tent. However even with Lemming’s introductory remarks, he was struck by complete surprise when he walked into the tent to find a horse’s head, torso and legs severed and rearranged into an unnatural order.