+ Bad Piggies

Now still standing in front of the body with a half empty cup of abyssal dark coffee that smelt sickly sweet, Rowland tore his eyes away as he believed he had had enough of that off-putting look in the dead man's eye. As he clung to the mug in order to somehow cypher it's nearly dead warmth.

His saddened and worried green eyes were the only sign of colour in his face, as they battered with long lashes and automatically lifted and turned his head to a better view to his right, of the now visibly black tiled pool. Now littered with red plastic cups that blotched the serene architecture that surrounded it. Subconsciously panning out and to the beautiful and lush palm trees and ferns that swayed slightly in the light wind as the sun spotted the tropical Japanese garden with sequin like golden rays.