Their bodies were almost completely decomposed when they were found. Mold had already started growing like tufts of cotton along the rims of the barrel their bodies were found inside. One could barely even believe they had once been human. At first, my dear Co-workers thought it was only one body, stuffed into a barrel that once contained some sort of liquid, but when they discovered a second skull in the decaying heap of flesh and liquid that had formed, they had no choice but to accept that it was, in fact, two former human beings.

The barrel in question was located under a rather small bridge placed above a running stream. The stream was weak, so the barrel hadn't dislodged and the whole crew of police and forensics could stand on the sides without any problem.

My Brother was, as most others on the scene, rather disgusted at this exhibition which showed what forms a human could take if they just put their minds to it. I had half-expected them to be found earlier, but I suppose, like all great liquids, one must wait for them to ferment in order to get the best out of it.

The rain was pouring down with great and unappreciated vigor, soaking most of the police and civilians there in its gift of life. My Brother and I were both draped in a black overcoat each. They were the same brand and the same sort, making us almost identical. If people constantly confuse one of us for the other, why not make it just a tad bit harder for them? The only difference between us was the fact that we had slightly different hats. He wore a black Bowler while I wore a black Trilby.

This time, unlike last nights little ravendouz, we had several witnesses. It would seem a group of kids around the age of sixteen or seventeen had been out partying, as kids do, and while drunkenly stumbling about the bridge one of them found the barrels and consequentially dared another kid to open it. Poor kid, their reaction must have been quite something. How sad I couldn't be there to witness it in person, but then again, I had rigged a camera to film their reaction, so I suppose that makes up for that.

The camera was hidden on one of the many birches that surrounded the bridge, in a crevice just under one of the many branches. It was stationed perfectly as to catch exactly what the witnesses had seen. The camera was small, black and almost invisible unless you knew it was there.

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With a knowing smirk, I turned my head slightly to the left and let my eyes search for the camera which I would come back to grab later tonight. My eyes traveled from the base of the tree, went along the tree itself, examined the branches, and found nothing. “...huh...” I said, talking only to myself. In confusion I let my eyes wander once more, with a bit more focus this time. Nothing. The tree was empty, and the hidden spot where my camera had been oh so carefully placed was empty. My mind started to race. Had someone found it? Had the rain knocked it down? Had I perhaps never put it up in the first place? After a few more moments of stressed examination, my Brother must have noticed the strange expression that stained my face. “Are you alright, Brother? You look distressed,” he almost whispered, but to me, it was like a shout, and with my eyes still stuck to the tree as if with glue, my head turned to my Brothers with an exaggerated, almost comical motion. “Yes, Brother, I am quite alright. I was simply looking for a rare bird I've heard lives in these kinds of trees,” I said, nodding to the birch I was examining with more focus then I had on making a believable excuse. “I didn't know you were interested in birds, is that a new passion of yours?” he inquired, to which I responded, “No, Brother, I simply read an article in the news. It would seem, however, that no birds dwell in this particular tree.” my mind really was someplace else, whatever I was saying was barely coherent enough for even my Brother to understand. He eyed me up and down, head to toe, before muttering “huh,” and turning away.

I forced my eyes to leave the tree, and with a quick glance concluded that no other Birch contained the camera. I knew for a fact that I had placed a camera, so I concluded that someone must have found it. Who this someone was, however, I did not know. Whoever it was, they had yet to turn it over to the police, as I could see no one fumbling around with my modestly expensive camera.

The detective on the scene, a Mr. Anderson, must have finished question the witnesses as he left them alone while he walked over to the forensics dusting the barrel and taking tests of the liquid it contained. As usual, the forensics had found nothing. I knew that very well, gloves are very useful for this kind of thing, and I had been very careful to use them constantly, even wearing gloves under the gloves so as to not get fingerprints on the gloves. Who knows, they might just transfer to the bodies I touch.

Rather safe than sorry, no?