Hunting and Haunting in the Moorlands by Dr. Anjana Sen
fictional dramatization
creative writing
Disclaimer:
This short story is a fictional dramatization created for entertainment purposes only. It’s an Audio Drama, and a creative writing piece. All characters and events are imaginary. It does not represent any real individual, incident, group or belief. All characters, names, places, and events are purely products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real people, actual persons, living or dead, or real events is entirely coincidental and completely accidental. This work comes entirely from the author’s imagination. This is a work of fiction. Names and traits belong to made-up people. Plot points and settings do not represent real-world happenings. The author did not mean to target or describe any real person or group.
sex & nudity: none
violence & gore: none
profanity: none
alcohol, drugs & smoking: none
frightening & intense content: none
Hunting and Haunting in the Moorlands
by Dr. Anjana Sen
While wandering around the Tundra, I suddenly woke up in the marshes, far off the low-lying wetlands along the rocky septentrional coastal island. The Arctic Archipelago and subarctic moorlands I have frequented for hunting over decades exploring towering mountains, glaciers, lakes, fjords, cliffs, wildlife, creeks, and vast rural forest areas.
That was before I committed my life’s only transgression.
That was before I came to my hide-out in that dilapidated shack over there, which used to be a derelict annex of the archaic and abandoned Silent Oak Timber factory. Perfect place to stay invisible.
My buddy Austin Ray. My fishing-hunting pal Austin Ray.
We used to be co-workers at The Water Resources and Energy Directorate.
I murdered Austin Ray. Premeditated and imperfect. My life’s only transgression.
Despite this egregious misconduct, I would never resort to subterfuge.
I had my fishing-hunting cabin nestled along the rocky coastal island, designed in the tradition of Nordic boathouses.
Both Austin Ray and I adored its simple gabled roofs and ashy timber cladding, looking over a tract of open uncultivated upland, idyllically covered with heather, marshes, frozen soil, enveloped in by aquamarine wetlands and undulating emerald green hills blooming with yellow gorse.
Life was blissful, serene, and gratifying for us two macho lady-killers.
We had our fishing gear in tackle box, line, hook, lures, rod, reel. I remember plenty of halibut, cod, haddock, plaice, salmon, herring, pollack, flounder, and of course, trout. And our fishing-hunting ventures weren’t essentially solitary in true sense. We always cherished the wildlife, ― there are moose, Arctic-dwelling brown bears, arctic fox, and lynx. We were hunting mountain hare, black grouse, and red fox.
We also briefly ventured across the Pacific, the Oceania, and explored Australia’s outback.
Well, then……. What came between us? What came between two free-spirited adventurous fishing-hunting pals? That person was a brilliant young lady who came between us. That person was an alluring goddess who came between us. She carries the delicate fragrance of white flowers. She specializes in Psychometrics in Voir Dire and witness credibility assessments. She glows like Winter moon.
She comes from a long noble lineage of aristocrats in the historical manorial system, Counts, Countesses, Barons, Baronesses. The heritage landmark Manor House had long been converted into museums and archival library, which we visit quite often.
In the beginning she seemed to have no particular interest in Austin Ray. And I was barely visible to her. She had myriads of admirers anyway, flanked by paparazzi and social climbers. Nevertheless, ……
Nevertheless, I had to get rid of Austin Ray. Yes, I had to.
I met her in the Royal Art Gallery. And my life froze forever.
Austin Ray attended her seminar on egalitarian norms in Scandinavia.
No I didn’t drown my co-worker friend. It was a hunting accident, …well, … I rather tried to make it look like that.
No acrimonious dispute. No scathing derisive attack.
A large-scale tactical search operation by the police task force that included helicopters equipped with searchlights, on horseback and bicycles, canine units and water-rescue Marine units on rafts, vigorously scoured and combed through woods, lands, water, air. Even digital forensics, as I remember.
I chose to abscond.
I kept on escaping to unimaginable unthinkable places.
Hide-and-seek game continued for ages.
Cat-and-mouse game continued for ages.
On top of that, amidst this precarious situation I am in, I’m incessantly being haunted by Austin Ray’s revenant ghost. He keeps showing up relentlessly everywhere I go.
The police task force and Austin Ray have now become disturbingly ubiquitous.
And I am being tormented by a multi-layered never-ending horror-dream.
Chased by a diligent stop-at-nothing over-worked Sheriff, chased by Austin Ray’s revenant ghost, I am drained, fatigued, and debilitated.
I suddenly woke up in the marshes.
I find myself staggering and waddling through the wilderness towards a secluded timber hovel. It once belonged to one of the male forebears in my mom’s family.
I realized I just came out of that horror-dream.
Now I have to survive through severe icing and fiercest lightning.
It’s a rustic wooden dwelling by Trondheim Fjord, designed for privacy, for sleeping cooking eating sanitation, even a stone fireplace and attic ventilation. It’s my temporary hide-out at the moment.
I gasped and muttered to myself, Good gracious! That was a ghastly nightmare indeed! Hope it’s over now. Well, until I saw, that persevering Sheriff showed up again right at my stoop.
I couldn’t believe my own eyes.
I mumbled, “Believe me, it was a hunting accident…”
He growled back at me, more like a roaring distant thunder, “How do you know this isn’t your bad dream still going on?”
It shook me off out of my horror-dream once again for one more round.
Another layer.
I suddenly woke up in the marshes.
I found myself listening to the torrential hail and windshear whipping on the decrepit windowpanes against the backdrop of rugged wet meadows.
The hounding went on.
There’s not even enough break to brood over and mull over how profoundly it has exacerbated the situation.
My peripatetic life feels like an eternity wandering across the Nordic reaches of the subarctic wetlands, across the rocky polar desert, ice caps, marshes, and across the mossy valleys.
At a later time, I came to my hide-out in this thin sliver of Norway enclosed by Finnish and Russian territory. Yes, this dilapidated shack, which used to be a ramshackle annex of the archaic and abandoned Silent Oak Timber factory.
I miss my palatial mansion.
How baffling! Half an hour ago it was a small post office at the peripheral foothills ― a torturous trek down the valley. That was decades old. That has disappeared? Or I cannot navigate to that spot? Even the railroad tracks are gone! Have I been a fugitive that long? All I can see is a tiny retail kiosk there instead.
What’s more perplexing is my .308 Winchester calibre Remington 700. That’s nowhere to be found! Where on earth is it?
No I didn’t hide my firearms after the murder. I have no recollection of evidence tampering or perjury, or intention for that matter.
My horror-dream never ends. Until I saw, Austin Ray’s former commercial associate, a private eye, showed up at my hide-out totally out of the blue.
I was relieved, hope my horror-dream is over now.
I mumbled, “Believe me, it was a hunting accident…”
He growled back at me, more like a roaring distant thunder, “How do you know this isn’t your bad dream still going on?”
It shook me off out of my horror-dream once again for one more round. Another layer.
I suddenly woke up in the marshes.
Exasperated and shocked, I escaped and drifted away westwards on the northern side through coastal heathlands and upland moors, through streams hills coves brook banks, eating wild berries for sustenance.
My horror-dream never ends. Until I saw, our Principal Regional Operative Supervisor showed up at my hide-out totally out of the blue.
I mumbled, “You ain’t gonna believe. I just had a bad dream…”
He growled back at me, more like a roaring distant thunder, “How do you know this isn’t your bad dream still going on?”
Then suddenly it flashed in my head, he succumbed to his frail health in the end of last fall season and passed away.
It shook me off out of my horror-dream once again for one more round. Another layer.
I suddenly woke up in the marshes.
I cannot come out of my horror-dream and perpetual trepidation. I find myself inextricably trapped and locked in this recurring pattern of a paranormal loop.
Who’s that now?
Oh, that vicious bug-eyed vulture, a scandalmonger from the provincial tabloid. He showed up at my hide-out totally out of the blue.
I sighed, “Leave me alone, it was just a bad dream, you cannot bag a scoop here.”
He growled back at me, more like a roaring distant thunder, “How do you know this isn’t your bad dream still going on?”
It shook me off out of my horror-dream once again for one more round. Another layer.
I suddenly woke up in the wilderness. This time I am suddenly right back precisely at our last hunting spot, where I was with my hunting-fishing pal Austin Ray for the last time, right at the location where I premeditatedly murdered him.
The Sheriff and his entire field-work squad are already there present.
It looks like a massive police action going on.
Nobody even tried to apprehend me!
I gritted my teeth, clenched my fist.
This time I really have to come clean and make an honest confession. No escape. I am finally ready to face the impending repercussions.
Now the blatant but obscure truth finally, rather imperceptibly, dawned on me, and sank in, as the metaphysical world from the realm of dream emerged and indiscernibly unfolded before me. Somehow my past life seems to transcend the passage of time and the bounds of core reality.
My eyes turned to the direction everybody is staring at. It’s a dead body! And It’s my dead body! My corpse!
My eyes turned now to the left. Austin Ray is standing in shackles.
I had not murdered Austin Ray! Austin Ray had murdered me.
