text: I was up at 6.00am as usual ready for my morning run. Standing at the kitchen sink looking out at the back garden, the lawn covered in a film of dew, I downed a glass of warm lemon water, strapped my water bottle to my waist, did some stretches on the bench outside and set off. The forest track was a short walk down the road, our house one of four in a semicircle at the end of the cul de sac. The forest was in deep shade, the sun not yet high enough to filter through the canopy, the branches were dripping from the early morning dew and as I started my run on the leaf strewn damp path I felt icy drops on my bare shoulders, it was chilly but I would soon warm up as my circulation warmed me. I loved my morning run through the forest and fields beyond and preferred to run solo. I ran a few times with a companion but didn’t enjoy the company of another person puffing beside me or the idle chatter that would inevitably take place between us. I recall one of my friends who was also a keen jogger remarking that they were surprised that I didn’t run with an ipod and earphones in my ears which seemed to be the go to requirement for joggers. To me listening to music or story’s could be done at home or in the car and train to relieve the monotony of the journey. Early morning sounds of birds and insects and my own rhythmic breathing was my orchestra. The track twisted its way through the forest and now that the sun was higher shafts of light created pathways of light creating stage like spotlights on the track and the small grassy clearings. In one of them I saw a group of rabbits enjoying the fresh grass and a lone deer in the shadows. I reached a fork in the track and decided, for a change, that I would take the one that I normally ignored, I had heard that some logging and clearing had taken place and was curious to see what that was all about, new housing estates were popping up like mushrooms and I wondered whether this clearing was the precursor to a new development. It was a Sunday and no work was taking place. I stopped and looked at the once alive forest and mighty trees now lying down in rows of logs and waiting to be carved up and made into slabs of wood for furniture and floors, their insides exposed and naked all their branches now small stumps along the length of each tree. The bright yellow machinery looked alien and was scattered over the site of fallen trees, the area was roped off with yellow and black tape. A sign warned that only authorised persons were allowed on the site. Two crows sat on one of the logs cawing as if in mourning for the fallen forest and as if in unison with the crows the familiar sounds of insects and birds had fallen silent. Half hidden in the trees behind the devastation I glimpsed a small log cottage, my curiosity got the better of me. I skirted the clearing and came in behind fighting my way over fallen branches and through vines to the cabin. Moss and lichen was growing on the outside log walls and on the slate roof, many slates had broken and shards were scattered around the building. The windows were covered in spider webs and creepers that had started to take possession of the small cabin. A small deck of rotting and broken planks ran along the front of the cabin and an old bench stood next to the door which in its day was painted blue judging by the glimpses of peeling paintwork that could still be seen. A rusty hasp and staple hung loosely from the slightly ajar door. Climbing up the rotting steps to the deck and minding my footing at the same time I reached the door. ‘Anyone there?’ I asked, feeling a bit stupid for thinking that this wreck would have an occupant. I pushed the door gently, somewhat afraid of what I might find inside. To my surprise the inside was swept clean and the floorboards were all in good order. In front of me there was a passageway leading off the front room and I tentatively made my way down the short passage calling as I went ‘anybody here?’ I went into the first of two rooms leading off the passage. A rusty iron bed stood under the window, woven spider webs draped from the corner of the ceiling and window, a perfect trap for insects seeking the light from the lone window. A wooden crucifix hanging crookedly over the bed was the only other item in the room. This room was not as well kept as the front room and my running shoes left prints in the dust covering the floor. The opposite room was a different story. The floor was swept clean but the window was boarded up, only slits of light came through to give the room some light. A large picture in a gilded frame was leaning against the wall and as I looked around I noticed a number of other paintings, some with dust sheets draped over them lined around the wall. I bent down to take a look at the one closest to me, I couldn’t see much but in the low light there was it looked like an old masterpiece much in the style of Claude Monet, I moved closer to the picture but the light was not good enough for me to see the picture clearly, let alone discern any signature on the painting, but I pondered, I knew that worldwide many famous artworks had been stolen and never recovered, could this and the others lining the wall be some of the lost masterpieces. My eyes were adjusting to the light and now I could clearly see light coming through the gaps in the floorboards near the area behind the door. I could see that it was a trapdoor as I bent to see if I could open it I felt someone behind me. Suddenly I was grabbed by the shoulders and a cloth placed over my nose. I awoke shivering, the only light in the room was coming through the cracks in the door facing me. I was propped up on what appeared to be an old leather settee. My head was aching and the cable ties around my hands and ankles were digging into my skin. I tried to get loose but had no strength to struggle, I tried to take stock of where I was and how I got here. My mind was fuzzy and I felt totally disoriented. I remembered the log cabin and the cloth over my face. I was shivering with cold and fear of the unknown. How long had I been here? I noticed for the first time that my running shoes were missing but I still had my socks on. My running shorts and T-shirt the only other clothes on me. I called out weakly, my throat was dry and I had to swallow several times to get my vocal chords to work. Silence. I tried again but was too weak to waste energy, I leaned into the soft leather and tried to collect my thoughts and must have dozed off. I was awakened by a bright torch shining into my eyes. ‘You awake’ the gruff voice questioned. ‘Can you hear me?’ the voice pushed me on the shoulder. ‘Yes’ I said ‘who are you’. ‘Never mind, I am going to release your hands so that you can drink some water. Do not talk to me, just drink the water and shut up.’ I spilled water down my front as I hungrily drank the cool liquid.’ That's’ enough, give me your hands.’ I lashed out but the voice grabbed my wrists and thrust them onto my lap as he tied them up. ‘You will sleep now’ he said with a chuckle. I could hear another voice whispering something to him and then they were gone. The door slammed and I heard the bolt slide into place. I could hear voices on the other side of the door and was straining to hear what was being said. ‘We’ve got to move fast and clear this place today.’ I was aware of being carried on a stretcher with a blanket over my head, ‘Shit’ I heard a man’s voice ‘this guy is heavy’ ‘shut up’ the other voice said. I felt myself being lifted higher and worked out that I was being loaded into the back of a vehicle, I was on a gurney and the blanket on my face had slipped enough for me to see that I was being loaded into the back of an ambulance. The vehicle took off with a jolt and after a few minutes of rough road the vehicle turned and the ride was smoother, the sirens were now blaring as I felt the ambulance travelling at high speed. I was confused, had I been in an accident? I tried to recall what had happened to me. I remember being tied up and the voice, the same one loading me into the ambulance. The large Monet painting, and the others stacked against the wall, was that a dream? I tried to speak, I could feel that there was someone beside me. I caught a whiff of perfume or powder, it was a woman. A hand on my chest. ‘Don’t try to speak, we are nearly there.’ A soft Irish accent I thought as I once again fell asleep. I am staring up at a moving ceiling and rows of lights, ‘he is not injured, just shocked. ER 2 and we’ll have a good look’ a jumble of words and orders were being said by the medical team, my mind spinning in confusion. I am propped up on white pillows, a tube in my arm. My wife Cynthia sits beside me holding my hand ‘Hello Love, how are you feeling.’ I smile at her. ‘What has happened to me, the last I remember is that I went for my usual run, ended up in a log cabin in the forest and now here I am in a hospital, what is going on?’ ‘You were found alone in an ambulance outside the hospital’s emergency department, luckily you had your ‘dog tag’ on so they could identify you and contact me. You hadn’t been checked in by the paramedics and had just been left there. They have examined you and given you something to settle you down, apart from bruising on your wrists and ankles there does not appear to be anything wrong with you.’ ‘Except for a bloody sore head’ I replied. The police want to question you but there does not seem to be any crime except for a stolen ambulance which was used to transport you to hospital. You have been missing for most of the day and I was getting worried when you didn’t get home this afternoon but thought that perhaps you had taken a change of clothing and showered at the club and met up with some of your mates. You will remember that I had a breakfast meeting with Cindy and needed to take an early train so I wasn’t far behind you when you left for your run. The police have asked if you wouldn’t mind going in to the station sometime tomorrow to answer questions’ ‘I need to talk to them now, I was held captive in a cabin in the forest and the weird thing was that there were large paintings in one of the rooms that looked like old masterpieces. This could be a hideout for a gang of thieves.’ Cynthia smiled, ‘you must be imagining this.’ ‘But what about my wrists, look at them and my ankles, bruised.’ I gave the police a detailed statement that same evening, they told me that they knew of the cabin in the forest, it used to be a haven for druggies but had been cleared out of them some years ago, a developer had purchased the parcel of land with the cabin and was now developing it for a housing estate, the cabin was the property of the developer they said and needed to get permission or a warrant to search and follow up on my statement. A few days later I was curious to know the result of the police investigation and called the assigned constable. He told me that they had gained access to the cabin, it had been cleared by the developer as a site office, the cellar had also been cleaned to be used for storage, there was no trace of any other activity and they were unable to proceed except to record my claimed kidnapping.