It’s rather odd. I’ve had a whole week of no weird stuff happening to me. Usually my life is a morass of strange connections and unusual happenings. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t go out to look for this stuff, it just sort of happens. I can’t actually remember when it started, unless you count the general oddness of the old country house in which I spent a deal of my childhood.

The oddness of my adult life just seems to have always been there. From black dogs to whistling wanderers there’s always something strange going on. Take for instance the whistling wanderer. I used to own a business involved in aviation wildlife management. My base was airside on a smallish international airport, in an old second world war ammunition store, complete with blast walls and huge steel doors. The days were long and did not end until the last daylight flight had arrived, I would often let my staff go early and end the day myself. After the flight had landed I would hurry back, lock the equipment away and in the sudden quiet would often hear a noise. A slow, almost bored whistling. No tune, just notes, flowing, rising and falling. Not unpleasant. But as I was always completely and utterly alone, distinctly strange. To my mind it was the sound of a bored guard strolling round the buildings. But who knows.

An altogether more sinister experience was waking up in a cold sweat of dread at the same time of night – every single time I stayed in a particular house. Others experienced bed covers being pulled down and nameless fears. It was later learned that a stable lad hanged himself in that room many years before.

Some experiences are benign but weird. Take for instance the time I was driving home past a very remote cottage at around three in the morning. As I passed the gate I happened to look towards the house, there in the gateway, not five feet from me was a man standing bolt upright reading a newspaper – in the dark. I didn’t look in the mirror after I had passed, I knew the nocturnal reader would not be there.

Another local house seems beset with oddness, the (occasional) appalling smell at the bottom of the stairs (where the owner was found dead), the ringing doorbell – which has no cable to it and don’t even ask me about the security cameras!

More recently I’ve heard the sounds of cattle being herded in a deserted clearance village, observed strange dividing lights in the night sky and had a period of ‘corner of the eye’ people where they shouldn’t have been. Really, this is just the tip of the iceberg, my life seems full of this strange stuff (and I’m very much not alone round here) and it was having a period without any oddness that really caused me to think about it.

So, by now, you’ll probably think I’m a tad weird, prone to hysterics, maybe a bit fey? Well, perhaps, but I’m also a dyed-in-the wool country man who has spent countless hours out on the hill and in the forests and know that there is more to heaven and earth and all that…


About edwardchunter

Hello, my name is Edward Hunter. I sit at home in the Dower House on the Strathnuin Estate and scribble about the adventures of my nephew Archie and his father Magnus, my older brother. Thanks to my gammy leg I don’t get to participate in this exciting world so I must content myself with writing about it. You can find my first book Windigo on Amazon
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