Below is the description of a crime scene by a detective.
It was a quiet night in Quahog, Spooner St. in Eddie Scammander’s house where he lived alone and had a history of being polite and gentle with his neighbours. He lived a quiet life in which he never did something that would lead to him being murdered.
Eddie Scamander worked as a bank manager and was well paid. He was a bachelor, only 28 years old at the time of his death. When I reached the crime scene I saw him lying dead on a couch, he had been stabbed. It was a ghastly scene. He had been lying there for more than 1 week until reported missing by his colleagues and tenants. The crime scene was taped off-limits for civilians with a yellow tape which said: “Crime scene investigation, DO NOT ENTER”.
The Crime scene was firmly secured. Absolutely no one went in unless they were called, and then they were made to wear some weird yellow hazmat suits which would help to avoid contaminating the scene or themselves. This business of a gumshoe detective in a trench coat, smoking a cigar and leaning over the body, never happened. The job had never been so glorious.
The first greeting as the door to enter the crime scene opened, tested my nerves. As if an inflated balloon was just released on my face, the trapped air of the room attacked me. The stench of putrefaction and the reek of blood chocked my respiratory system. The throat felt a retching sensation but the nauseating necessity compelled me to stay there.
Covering my nose and mouth with my handkerchief, I moved in with fastidious steps, careful of not damaging or disturbing anything. The floor was a pool of commotion: stains of blood, dense and shallow, pieces of glass, tiny and big, decorative and furniture, broken and whole- made a maze for my feet to find space to rest. The interiors of the house were filthy and the walls were smeared with blood and dirt. The wall just behind the body bore a note written with blood, “I have served, and will be of service”.
There was pin-drop silence inside which was interrupted by the ticking of the only alive clock there.
With keen and precise steps, I made my way to the body. There were many signs leading to the victim eating a lot of snacks before he died. There were many packets of junk food on his table right in front of his corpse. The table looked like a ruckus of a gala feast- chips, nuts, chicken nuggets, fish fingers, caramel popcorn, more for one person to consume, were sprawled there. The two beautiful glasses, beautifully carved with diamond cut bottom, confirmed the presence of two people. The drink dried with time was no more than crystallized residues.
The body laid indecently on the sofa- arms stretched away from the body, legs wide open without any cover. The hair on the head was a mess, hardened due to dried blood that covered most of the scalp. Some strands of brown hair were also lying on the floor with pieces of alcohol bottles that were smashed, probably on the head. The most brutal and disgusting fact was that all of his fingers and toes were chopped off and nailed on the wall. Smeared in the blood that dried, the skin colour changed to violet. The murderer castrated him, cut open his body and removed intestines which lay like unwanted vegetation in the corner of the room. After all this time, the man's insides were rotten and they had a weird blackish colour and an extremely fetid smell like that of a rotten egg or fish.
-Chinmay thapa