text: The following morning, Dylan was awakened by a knock at the door. It was the police.
  
  "I'm Detective Inspector Dewsbury. I'd like to ask you a few questions about Debbie Field. A colleague of yours. I understand you went for a drink with her last night?"
  
  "Yes," Dylan replied.
  
  "Unfortunately, Miss Field's body was found in the woods in the early hours of this morning."
  
  It didn't take Dylan long to confess. A witness had seen him dragging the bag across the woods. A dog walker had discovered the body when his German Shepherd had decided to dig the fresh earth, finding the large holdall buried below. Dylan had left the spade next to the grave. There was no escaping. He told the police everything. About the witch, the large penis, the growth. He even stood to undo his trousers to prove his story, which the Detective forcefully stopped him.
  
  Dylan was arrested without bail and placed in a cell while a thorough investigation was carried out. Alone in the middle of the night, he sat in his cell and cried, with his head in his hands. How could everything have taken such a bad turn? He felt a sudden stirring in his groin and his penis burst out of his jeans, ripping the material around his button fly in the process. The penis hovered at his eyeline and its two rows of circular teeth glowed in the dim light of the prison cell. He looked at it with dismal resignation.
  
  "You bastard. You've ruined my life." The penis looked back at him, the sharp teeth gleaming. Was it smiling at him? Mocking him? He put his hands up to grab it. He had nothing to lose. He was going to strangle the bastard, even if he took himself with it. The penis escaped his hands with ease, like a snake slithering out of its handler's grasp. It quickly wrapped itself around his neck. Dylan began to choke and splutter, his eyes filling up with blood. His bowels opened and his body slumped against the cell wall. He was dead.