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THE TASMANIAN TIGER

by

Paul Williams



SCENE   INSIDE ANNA’S CAR

DRIVING ALONG A BUSY HIGHWAY WITH THE WINDOWS DOWN. ANNA IS LISTENING TO MUSIC, 
INDIE STUFF A FEW YEARS OUT OF DATE, AND SPEAKING ABOVE IT. 

ANNA:	The last Tasmanian Tiger died in 1936. So why am I, Anna Murian, looking 
for it sixty nine years later. Because I’m crazy. Yeah I’ll admit that, no bones 
about it. But if I’m crazy then what are the people who say they’ve actually 
seen the tiger?

SCENE   WICKSON’S GARDEN

A GATE IS CREAKING AS JOHN SWINGS IT BACK AND FORTH. WICKSON APPROACHES, OUT OF 
BREATH

WICKSON:	Come away from that gate boy. There’s chickens to kill.

JOHN:	In a minute.

WICKSON:	She’s not going to come any quicker just ‘cos you’re standing at the 
gate waiting. In fact she’s not going to come at all so put your overalls on and 
get to work. Unless you want blood on your jeans. Fine first impression that 
would make. 

SCENE   ANNA’S CAR

ANNA:	There’s a whole host of them. Some were on their way home after a few 
bevies too many. Others were wardens in national parks or police officers. A lot 
of us have low opinions of the cops but this is something else. How can they 
save the population from rapists and muggers when they’re hallucinating? Seeing 
something that isn’t there.

SCENE   WICKSON’S GARDEN

THIS IS THE BACK GARDEN. WICKSON IS RESTING. JOHN APPROACHES.

JOHN:	Two chickens left for you to sell.

WICKSON:	(NOW FULLY AWAKE) There was four in there.

JOHN:	Three left, two to sell and one for dinner.

WICKSON:	Have you been thieving again? Cos if you have…

JOHN:	Not me. There’s a hole at the back of the shed.

WICKSON:	Show me.

SCENE   ANNA’S CAR

ANNA:	This is my first, and probably my last, cryptozoology trip. A guy phoned 
last week, said he’d seen my advert in the paper and wanted to chat to me about 
the tiger. So I’m heading to eastern Tasmania to meet him. He could be a psycho 
so that’s why I’m taping this. I also told my mother where I was going. Twenty 
three years old and I’m still reporting back to mommy. Told you I was crazy. But 
there have been tourists reported missing in the area recently. Better to be 
safe than sorry. The only way I could find the truth was come out here and see 
the witnesses. See if they’re mad or mistaken or if they’re telling the truth. 
See if they really did see a creature that shouldn’t exist now.

SCENE   CHICKEN SHED

THREE CHICKENS SQUAWKING AS JOHN AND WICKSON PUSH PAST THEM

JOHN:	See.

WICKSON:	You made that.

JOHN:	I never did.

WICKSON:	Blood as well.

JOHN:	It wasn’t me.

WICKSON:	Who was it then? You’re trying to impress that girl aren’t you. 
Trying to make her think that it was the tiger.

JOHN:	It was. It must have been.

WICKSON:	Then where’s its prints boy? Only marks there are the ones you made. 
Go away.

JOHN:	Are you still going to town?

WICKSON:	What’s the point with only two chickens left to sell. Three is 
worthwhile, just. Two never. You wanted me to leave you alone with her didn’t 
you?

JOHN:	It doesn’t matter.

WICKSON:	It matters to me. Only person allowed to have romantic liaisons 
around here is me and I’m too old for that now.

SCENE   ANNA’S CAR

ANNA:	I’m heading out here with an open mind. I don’t expect the tiger to leap 
out and say hi and I don’t expect John Wickson to be a raving loony. But either 
of those things could happen. You just never know. Second is more likely than 
the first though.

SCENE   WICKSON’S GARDEN

FRONT GARDEN. THE GATE IS CREAKING

WICKSON:	Don’t break my gate.

JOHN:	It’s rotting anyway, needs replacing.

WICKSON:	Then replace it. Plenty of wood in the forest and a chopper indoors.

JOHN:	Gates are interesting aren’t they? Like doors they form a barrier. Telling 
the outside world not to cross this point.

WICKSON:	I don’t want anyone to cross this point but do they listen?

JOHN:	Precisely. There aren’t the same barriers in nature and yet animals know 
where they should be and where they shouldn’t go. Instinct directs them.

WICKSON:	Well you can tell your journalist friend where she shouldn’t go.

JOHN:	If she wants to come she’ll come. The thing about barriers is that those 
who want to disregard them will do so.

WICKSON:	Should never have taught you to read. Or stolen those books.

SCENE   ANNA’S CAR

ANNA:	We’re getting closer and it is right out in the middle of nowhere. I asked 
the man at the petrol place if he knew John Wickson and he just laughed and 
pointed upwards. At least he didn’t try to stop me so the guy can’t be 
considered that dangerous. I didn’t ask about the tiger. If I start saying why 
I’m here everyone will tell me third hand stories that relate to a neighbour’s 
tabby. Real cryptozoologists get that a lot.

SCENE   WICKSON’S GARDEN

A CAR IS APPROACHING IN THE DISTANCE, JOHN IS EXCITED

JOHN:	She’s coming.

WICKSON:	Might be someone else. That car looks a bit posh for a small time 
journalist.

JOHN:	Who else could it be?

WICKSON:	Don’t know but I’m ready for them.

BULLETS BEING PUT IN AN OLD-FASHIONED GUN

JOHN:	You can’t shoot her.

WICKSON:	My land. I can shoot intruders anytime I want but on this occasion 
it’s just a deterrent.	

CAR DRAWS CLOSER THEN STOPS. DOOR OPENS AND ANNA, A LITTLE NERVOUS STEPS OUT.

JOHN:	It’s her.

ANNA:	Do you mind putting that gun away?

WICKSON:	Who are you? What do you want here?

ANNA:	My name’s Anna Murian. A guy called John Wickson asked me to come here.

WICKSON:	Nobody of that name here.

JOHN:	It’s me.

WICKSON:	You don’t have a surname and you’re not stealing mine.

JOHN:	She asked for one.

ANNA:	Did you expect me to go looking for a guy called John in Tasmania?

WICKSON:	Didn’t expect you to come at all.

ANNA:	Well I have. If there’s a problem I’ll go back but would appreciate some 
money for my travel expenses.

WICKSON:	Would you indeed? What about John’s fee for giving you whatever he 
was going to give you?

ANNA:	I specified clearly that no payment would be involved.

WICKSON:	How can journalists get stories without paying for them?

ANNA:	There isn’t a price on truth, Mr Wickson.

WICKSON:	An idealist.

JOHN:	You’d better come inside.

ANNA:	When the gun is taken away. You can see I’m not dangerous.

WICKSON:	We have to be careful up here. Thieves come in all shapes and sizes.

JOHN:	And take chickens.

WICKSON:	Be quiet boy.

ANNA:	If I wanted to steal I’d go to a rich guy’s house when he wasn’t there. 
Even if I took all your possessions I’d still have to beg to get enough fuel for 
my trip home.

WICKSON:	What’s that supposed to mean?

ANNA:	That I’m not a thief.

WICKSON:	Okay, you can come in but I don’t trust you. Let’s be quite clear 
about that.

ANNA:	I’m not asking you to trust me. Other way round.

WICKSON:	Is it?

ANNA:	John wants me to trust him. To believe him.

JOHN:	Will you do that?

ANNA:	It depends on how honest he is.

WICKSON:	Nobody else trusts him.

ANNA:	I’m sure that’s not true.

JOHN:	It is.

WICKSON:	Nobody talks to him apart from me and I’d rather trust a rabid 
kangaroo.

JOHN:	We can talk outside if you prefer.

ANNA:	It’s warm enough.

JOHN:	Yes.

ANNA:	I’d quite like a drink.

JOHN:	I’ll bring you something.

WICKSON:	Just water. In a mug not a glass.

JOHN HURRIES AWAY, STILL NERVOUS

ANNA:	There’s no need to be hostile.

WICKSON:	There’s no need for you to be here.

ANNA:	Your son invited me.

WICKSON:	Just told you he’s not my son. Real parents abandoned him nineteen 
years ago. God knows why they left him on my doorstep. Perhaps they thought I’d 
eat him.

ANNA:	Or they thought you needed to practice your parenting skills.

WICKSON:	A girl in the village didn’t want her parents to know. He was 
probably conceived in my woods. Couples still come up here without permission. 
Don’t seem bothered by the gun.

ANNA:	Shooting them is a bit extreme, not to mention illegal.

WICKSON:	Private land. What would you do if you caught a couple copulating in 
your car?

ANNA:	Probably let them get on with it.

WICKSON:	I value my privacy.

ANNA:	So do I but I wouldn’t kill anyone to protect it.

WICKSON:	Think we would have land here if our ancestors hadn’t killed the 
abbos?

JOHN COMES BACK, SLOWLY. HE DOESN’T WANT TO DROP THE DRINKS

JOHN:	There you are.

ANNA:	Did you wash the mug?

WICKSON:	Why should it need washing? There aren’t any germs in my house.

ANNA:	There probably isn’t a bath either.

WICKSON:	Hurry up and get yourself out of here.

WICKSON WALKS OFF

ANNA:	How do you survive with him?

JOHN:	He’s not that bad.

ANNA:	You could leave.

JOHN:	I don’t know anywhere else. Apart from the woods and I like the house. 
There is a bath. I use it sometimes.

ANNA:	I’m not interested in your personal hygiene. Presumably you saw the tiger 
in the woods.

JOHN:	Yes and sometimes it comes right down to the house.

ANNA:	Why? There’s miles of countryside out there. Why would it come near 
people?

JOHN:	I think it’s searching for something.

ANNA:	Food?

JOHN:	Possibly. It took a chicken last night.

ANNA:	You saw it?

JOHN:	No (UNSURE) I didn’t see it.

ANNA:	Is it just chickens that you keep here?

JOHN:	And pigs. I’ll show you.

SCENE   

THREE CHICKENS MOVING ABOUT SLOWLY AND SQUAWKING

JOHN:	These are the chickens.

ANNA:	Just three.

JOHN:	We’ll have one for dinner.

ANNA:	And then?

JOHN:	We’ll get some more. 

ANNA:	It’s not on a big scale though is it?

JOHN:	It’s enough for us to survive on. Just.

ANNA:	And the tiger. You said that it took some from here.

JOHN:	See the gaps.

ANNA:	That looks like it was pulled away by a human and there’s no hair.

JOHN:	Why would there be hair?

ANNA:	A tiger would have left some marks.

JOHN:	What else could have done it?

ANNA:	You or your step-dad.

JOHN:	No.

ANNA:	The chicken could even have made its own way out, the woods flimsy enough.

JOHN:	Then where is it now and why didn’t the others follow?

ANNA:	I don’t know but I can’t believe you until I see some real evidence.

JOHN:	Aren’t you going to take samples of the blood?

ANNA:	What for?

JOHN:	To analyse it and ascertain the species.

ANNA:	I’m not a professional zoologist Mr Wickson. 

JOHN:	Please call me John. I don’t like that name.

ANNA:	Because you don’t like Wickson.

JOHN:	No. Just John is better. It’s what he’s always called me.

ANNA:	Do you have any other family?

JOHN:	No.

SCENE   

OLD-FASHIONED TELEPHONE BEING DIALED AND RECEIVER LIFTED

WICKSON:	Hello, is that the star? Hurry up please I’m calling long distance. 
Don’t have the money to listen to static. (LISTENS) I just wanted to ask if you 
employed a journalist called Anna Murrain. (LISTENS) You’re sure. 

PHONE IS SLAMMED DOWN

SCENE   

PIGS GRUNTING IN A SMALL ENCLOSURE. FOOTSTEPS SQUELCHING THROUGH MUD

ANNA:	They’re in better condition.

JOHN:	He has more experience with pigs.

ANNA:	I was being sarcastic. This is a breeding ground for disease. Enough to 
turn anyone vegetarian.

JOHN:	We do our best.

ANNA:	I passed a lot of farms on the way here. The vast majority looked clean. 
Why don’t you give up, try something else?

JOHN:	There is nothing else. Wickson’s only ever been a farmer.

ANNA:	Okay so he’s too old to change. What about you? What are you going to do 
when he knocks on Satan’s door.

JOHN:	I haven’t thought that far ahead.

ANNA:	Do you ever think at all?

JOHN:	I called you down here didn’t I?

ANNA:	And I still don’t know why?

JOHN:	To see the tiger.

ANNA:	Has Wickson seen it?

JOHN:	No. He doesn’t believe.

ANNA:	So when you see it near the house you don’t call him to have a look?

JOHN:	He’d shoot it.

ANNA:	Why does that upset you?

JOHN:	Doesn’t it upset you?

ANNA:	I don’t make a living slaughtering pigs and chickens. Why is the tiger 
different?

JOHN:	I don’t want to eat it.

ANNA:	You could sell it. Be worth a lot more than these.

JOHN:	It’s beautiful.

ANNA:	Some people think pigs are beautiful. If you don’t want people to hunt the 
tiger then why I am here? I will tell the world if I see it. You understand that 
don’t you. I will use it to make my career and get some money.

JOHN:	I needed to know that someone believed me. Otherwise I’d go crazy.

ANNA:	Assuming you’re not mad already.

JOHN:	Maybe I am but I know what’s real and what’s not. Sometimes I think that 
it’s following me. Watching me all the time. Just waiting for the right moment.

ANNA:	I don’t think that the Tasmanian tiger has ever been dangerous to people. 

JOHN:	It wants something from me. I’m sure of it.

ANNA:	Like what?

JOHN:	I don’t know.

ANNA:	Have you tried communicating?

JOHN:	I’m scared.

ANNA:	Grow up. That’s all I can advise. I don’t have time for people who are 
scared.

ANNA STARTS TO LEAVE

JOHN:	You’re not going, are you?

ANNA:	I’m going back to my car for a nap then I might consider going into the 
woods tonight to look for the tiger.

JOHN:	Tonight?

ANNA:	Tonight. If you won’t show me I’ll go home.

JOHN:	I’ll be there.

SCENE   

FOOTSTEPS ON A ROUGH PATH

WICKSON:	(SHOUTING) Hey you. Stop right there.

FOOTSTEPS STOP

WICKSON:	Turn round so I can see your face.

ANNA:	Are you that unaccustomed to looking at women?

WICKSON:	Just turn round.

SLOWLY ANNA TURNS

ANNA:	You’ve still got the gun.

WICKSON:	Too right I have. Who are you?

ANNA:	We had this conversation earlier.

WICKSON:	I just called your paper. They’ve never heard of you.

ANNA:	I don’t work for the paper. I merely placed an ad in it.

WICKSON:	You said you were a journalist.

ANNA:	I said I was a researcher. An independent cryptozoological researcher.

WICKSON:	A what?

ANNA:	A cryptozoologist is someone who looks for, and studies, animals presently 
unknown to science. A researcher is someone who finds information on a given 
topic.

WICKSON:	Don’t believe you.

ANNA:	The definitions are in any good dictionary.

WICKSON:	I don’t believe that’s your reason for being here.

ANNA:	That’s your problem.

WICKSON:	Wrong, it’s your problem lady. I want you off my land.

ANNA:	Is the car far enough? That’s where I intend to sleep.

ANNA CARRIES ON WALKING

WICKSON:	Stop.

ANNA:	You asked me to leave.

WICKSON:	Who paid you to come here?

ANNA:	Nobody paid me. Independent, in my dictionary, means someone who works 
alone.

WICKSON:	It costs money to buy petrol and place ads.

ANNA:	My grandmother left me some cash. This is how I want to spend it. Doing 
something different, trying to uncover the truth.

WICKSON:	What happens round here is none of your business.

ANNA:	John invited me and I shall stay until he either asks me to leave or I am 
satisfied that there is nothing worth researching.

SCENE   

WICKSON’S FOOTSTEPS GOING INDOORS

WICKSON:	She’s a liar.

JOHN:	She’s genuine.

WICKSON:	She’s not from the newspaper. This is all your fault.

JOHN:	What are you sacred of? She’s here to see me.

WICKSON:	It’s all a pretence. Has she seen anything?

JOHN:	No.

WICKSON:	There’s fresh mud on your boots. You’ve took her for a walk haven’t 
you?

JOHN:	Only to see the chickens and the pigs.

WICKSON:	The chickens and the pigs. Only. You’ve ruined me do you know that?

SCENE   

ANNA:	I told them I was sleeping but I spent a few minutes walking round the 
back of the chicken pen. The hole in the fence is rather neat for something 
supposedly torn by an animal and I suspect a hoax. John, despite his denials has 
to be responsible. There simply isn’t anyone else. I’d like a confession before 
I go.

KNOCKING ON WINDOW

ANNA:	Go away.

JOHN:	(MUFFLED) We need to talk.

SIGHING, ANNA UNWINDS THE WINDOW AND COUGHS

ANNA:	I am trying to sleep now so that I will be awake tonight. If you keep 
bothering me I’ll just go home and not bother with our expedition to the woods.

JOHN:	Wickson’s going mad.

ANNA:	You’ve only just noticed.

JOHN:	He’s threatening to kill you.

ANNA:	Real killers don’t advertise their intentions. He’s all mouth.

JOHN:	You’re not worried.

ANNA:	Not in the slightest although it would be nice to know why he’s so 
paranoid.

JOHN:	He thinks you’re from the revenue.

ANNA:	(LAUGHING) I assure you I’ve got no interest in his tax bill.

JOHN:	He never gets a bill, that’s why he’s worried.

ANNA:	What’s he got to pay tax on? Annual income from the chickens and the pigs 
must be close to the exemption although he’s not clever enough to know that.

JOHN:	He gets rents.

ANNA:	People pay to stay here?

JOHN:	Not here. In the woods. He lets campers stay there.

ANNA:	When he’s not shooting them.

JOHN:	There are fences all the way round. Sometimes trespassers climb them but 
most people ask for permission.

ANNA:	Even so it can’t be much of a business.

JOHN:	He does okay. Look he hates authority interfering with his business.

ANNA:	I’m not interested in campers or any other aspect of his business.

JOHN:	He hasn’t got a licence for his car either.

ANNA:	That’s not my concern.

JOHN:	Come to dinner in the house tonight.

ANNA:	Thanks but I’ve brought my own food.

JOHN:	Share it with us. He might start to believe you.

ANNA:	I don’t care if he believes me or not.

JOHN:	Please.

ANNA:	You just want me there so that he has a go at me instead of you.

JOHN:	That’s not fair.

ANNA:	Too right it isn’t. Who’s cooking?

SCENE   

ANNA, WICKSON AND JOHN EATING. BOTH MEN ARE NOISY EATERS AND WICKSON TALKS WITH 
HIS MOUTH FULL

WICKSON:	Well this is cosy isn’t it? All sitting down together for dinner.

ANNA:	I’m very grateful for the invitation.

WICKSON:	Don’t thank me. It was his idea. He said that if you were from the 
Revenue you’d be more sympathetic if I gave you a cup of tea and a bite to eat.

ANNA:	I’m not from the Revenue.

WICKSON:	And I’m not sympathetic. I know the rules. If an agent accepted 
anything then they’ve compromised themselves. You had a drink earlier as well.

ANNA:	I don’t know how revenue agents work but I’m pretty sure they can’t be 
compromised over a glass of water.

WICKSON:	Don’t you pay any tax?

ANNA:	Not earning enough and I won’t be unless I make a lot of money out of the 
tiger.

WICKSON:	There isn’t a tiger here. Go to India for the real species or 
Sydney?

ANNA:	Sydney?

WICKSON:	They’ve got a museum there haven’t they? Only place you’re going to 
see a Tasmanian tiger. Stuffed on a pedestal. Bring the meat out boy.

EXIT JOHN

ANNA:	I get to share your chicken as well? I’m honoured.

WICKSON:	I like to spoil my guests.

ANNA:	I would have made a contribution to the meal but don’t think you would 
have appreciated the concoction I was going to heat up tonight.

WICKSON:	Don’t worry girl.

ANNA:	Your attitude really has changed.

WICKSON:	That bothers you?

ANNA:	Only the reasons for it.

WICKSON:	If you want to spend a night in the cold and rain looking for 
something that doesn’t exist then you can. I don’t care provided you don’t 
damage anything belonging to me.

ANNA:	So you’re starting to believe that I’m a genuine cryptozoologist?

WICKSON:	Nothing genuine about it.

ANNA:	I’ll prove you wrong.

WICKSON:	Wouldn’t have been allowed in my day.

ANNA:	In your day I’d have been chained up in the kitchen or the bedroom.

WICKSON:	People knew their place then.

ANNA:	Who gave them that place Mr Wickson?

JOHN’S SLOW FOOTSTEPS, PAUSE AS HE PUTS DOWN PLATES AND CUTLERLY

ANNA:	Do you only have two plates?

WICKSON:	John doesn’t use a plate. Go on John. Show her how you eat.

JOHN:	I’m not hungry.

WICKSON:	He doesn’t want to embarrass himself. (STERN) Do it boy. Now.

SLURPING AS JOHN BITES INTO CHICKEN

ANNA:	That’s disgusting.

WICKSON:	He never learnt to use a knife and fork. Sure you want to spend a 
night in the woods with him little Missy?

ANNA:	It isn’t even cooked.

WICKSON:	Yours is. Get stuck in.

ANNA:	Have you always eaten like that?

WICKSON:	He’s never had a cooked meal. Even as a baby he wanted blood on his 
teeth. Like a vampire. Maybe he’ll start necking you outside.

JOHN:	I won’t hurt you.

WICKSON:	What’s the matter? Aren’t you hungry?

ANNA:	This is probably better raw. Didn’t your mother teach you how to cook?

WICKSON:	Died before she had the chance. I’ve had to improvise.

ANNA:	I could give you some lessons.

WICKSON:	What does a researcher know about cooking?

ANNA:	Just as much as a farmer. And it is a female job by your ideology.

WICKSON:	Dead right there but I’m not letting you loose in my kitchen.

ANNA:	Don’t worry. It would have to be fumigated first and that’s a man’s job. 
Shame that neither of you are capable.

WICKSON:	Nothing wrong with a bit of natural dirt. All this modern rubbish 
about cleaning up is just an excuse to sell chemicals.

ANNA:	Chemicals?

WICKSON:	Washing liquid, spray-on stuff. Fancy gloves. People out here have 
lived for centuries without all that. Good food and good clean air. That’s all 
you need.

ANNA:	In the absence of good food I’m going for a cigarette.

JOHN:	I’d better go as well.

WICKSON:	Go and wash, get ready for your nocturnal adventure. Stay outside 
for a minute. I’ve got a phone call to make.

SCENE   

ANNA IS SMOKING A CIGARETTE. 

ANNA:	Want one of these?

JOHN:	Thanks.

CIGARETTE LIT

JOHN:	Wickson doesn’t smoke anymore.

ANNA:	You call him Wickson?

JOHN:	That’s his name.

ANNA:	Not Dad.

JOHN:	He told you that he’s not my Dad.

ANNA:	You don’t know who your parents are?

JOHN:	Sometimes I think that I should. When I’m outside, especially at night I 
feel that my mother’s here.

ANNA:	If she was from the area she would come looking for you. Excuse me a 
minute.

SCENE   

WICKSON:	(QUIET) You can come out as arranged. There’s nothing to worry 
about.

TELEPHONE RECEVIER IS PUT DOWN

SCENE   

JOHN:	Where did you go?

ANNA:	Just had to check something. Are we ready then?

JOHN:	Now?

ANNA:	Why not?

THEY START WALKING

JOHN:	I always feel cold at nights. I just want to run and run forever to keep 
warm.

ANNA:	I’m not running when I can’t see a foot ahead of me.

JOHN:	It’s not that dark.

ANNA:	It’s pitch black.

JOHN:	I can see okay.

ANNA:	Is there a torch in the house?

JOHN:	I’ll go and see.

JOHN WALKS OFF. TAPE RECORDER ACTIVATED.

ANNA:	I’m beginning to regret this now. I should have brought a torch. And a gas 
stove and some camping equipment. I’m feeling like an amateur, which I am. That 
stuff with the blood samples proves it. John knows these woods but what happens 
if he leaves me alone or worse tries it on. Maybe he just wanted to get a woman 
alone in the woods. I heard Wickson on the phone just now saying that he’s 
arranged something. Is it an elaborate deception. Do they want me to star in a 
snuff movie?

RUSTILING OF TREES AS SOMEONE APPROACHES

ANNA:	Is there somebody there?

PAUSE

JOHN:	I’m here, with a torch.

ANNA:	Well, switch it on.

JOHN:	How do you do that?

ANNA:	Give it here.

CLICK AS ANNA ACTIVATES THE TORCH

ANNA:	Don’t you normally use it?

JOHN:	I can see perfectly.

ANNA:	I guess your eyes acclimatize if you’re out at night often.

JOHN:	Never had a problem before.

THEY CARRY ON WALKING UPHILL

JOHN:	We’re following one of the tiger’s trails.

ANNA:	One of? It uses different routes to come to the house?

JOHN:	Two or three. No obvious pattern.

ANNA:	So you’ve studied its movements?

JOHN:	I’ve walked through the woods a lot, following traces. Look. There’s a 
fairy recent print.

ANNA:	Maybe.

JOHN:	It is.

ANNA:	Shine your torch on it.

A CAMERA IS USED

ANNA:	That should come out.

JOHN:	Are you convinced now?

ANNA:	No. That could come from anything. If the tiger’s here I have to see it to 
believe. Nothing else will convince me.

JOHN:	It won’t come out when you’re here.

ANNA:	If you’re sure of that why have you brought me here?

JOHN:	To give you an idea of territory. All animals are shy. Surely you know 
that? If you intrude in their environment they will avoid you.

ANNA:	She’s shown herself to you.

JOHN:	Maybe not deliberately. Or maybe whatever she wants has to be provided by 
me.

ANNA:	Such as?

JOHN:	Don’t know.

ANNA:	What’s that over there?

JOHN:	I don’t see anything.

ANNA:	It looks like a tent.

JOHN:	Just a tent. Nothing to worry about.

ANNA:	Some of Wickson’s tourists?

JOHN:	Yes. Where are you going?

ANNA:	To have a look.

JOHN:	They’ll be asleep.

ANNA:	The entrance is open. (CALLING) Hello. (PAUSE) Aren’t you scared of 
burglars out here?

JOHN:	You can’t go in.

ANNA:	If they’ve been here a while they might have seen the tiger.

SLOW FOOTSTEPS THEN ANNA SCREAMS AND RUNS BACK OUT, GASPING.

JOHN:	They’re just dead.

ANNA:	Just dead. These aren’t your chickens. They’re real people.

JOHN:	Not anymore. Now they’re just like the chickens.

ANNA:	We’ve got to call the police immediately.

JOHN:	Wickson won’t let you use the phone.

ANNA:	I have a mobile.

JOHN:	This mobile?

ANNA:	Give that back.

JOHN:	It won’t work out here anyway.

ANNA:	Give it back.

JOHN:	I can’t have hunters coming here looking for the tiger.

ANNA:	Two people have just been killed.

JOHN:	Wasn’t the tiger’s fault?

ANNA:	How do you know what killed them?

JOHN:	Don’t know.

ANNA:	Yes you do. Stand there in front of me. Get behind the bodies.

JOHN:	Why?

ANNA:	I don’t want you behind me when I examine them.

JOHN:	You don’t trust me.

ANNA:	Because you’re not telling me the truth. They’ve been shot haven’t they? A 
predator attacked them afterwards. Plenty of scavengers here.

JOHN:	I didn’t shoot them.

ANNA:	But you know who did. Wickson? Why?

JOHN:	I don’t know. He didn’t tell me. He doesn’t tell me anything.

ANNA:	Then why support him?

JOHN:	He’s all I’ve got for now.

ANNA:	You can’t hide the bodies.

JOHN:	Thousands of people go missing every year. They had no relatives or close 
friends. Just a couple of kids who could be anywhere.

ANNA:	How do you know they’ve got no relatives?

JOHN:	They said so,

ANNA:	When?

JOHN:	When they came to the house one night last week.

ANNA:	Wickson approved that?

JOHN:	He often lets tourists through.

ANNA:	How many of them wind up dead? (PAUSE) This has happened before hasn’t it? 
Those reports of missing people. They came here.

ANNA STARTS TO MOVE QUICKLY

JOHN:	Where are you going?

ANNA:	To get help and a cigarette in that order.

SHE STARTS RUNNING THEN SLOWS

ANNA:	I can’t see what I’m doing but he doesn’t seem to be following. I’ve got 
this on tape so that anything will be recorded. In case it wasn’t entirely clear 
John Wickson has just shown me a tent containing the bodies of a man and a 
woman, probably in their early twenties although it’s hard to tell as a 
scavenger has been at the bodies. There’s definitely bullet holes there though. 
Now I’m going back to the house then to the car where I will light a cigarette 
and leave. I can’t light up here. I need my hands free to hold the torch. Of 
course he can see the beam and follow me, if he wants to.

YAPPING IN BACKGROUND

ANNA:	Now he’s just trying to scare me.

MORE YAPPING

ANNA:	The tiger was supposed to yap. (SHOUTS) Stop it.

MORE YAPPING

ANNA:	That was ahead of me. John’s behind isn’t he? Hopefully a long way behind.

MORE YAPPING

ANNA:	So what’s in front?

SHE STARTS RUNNING THEN SUDDENLY GASPS WITH SHOCK AS SOMEONE HAS STEPPED OUT IN 
FRONT OF HER

SHAMAN:	Be quiet little girl. Keep still.

ANNA:	What? Let me go.

SHAMAN:	Still.

THE YAPPING GETS NEARER THEN SUDDENLY DIES AWAY. THE SHAMAN SIGHS.

SHAMAN:	It will not harm me. It knows. And now I am protecting you.

ANNA:	Knows what? Who are you?

SHAMAN:	You could say I am the owner of this land.

ANNA:	You’re an Abbo.

SHAMAN:	Such prejudice is uncalled for. Especially when I have just saved 
your life.

ANNA:	If that was a Tasmanian tiger it wouldn’t have hurt us. 

SHAMAN:	Are you quite sure of that?

ANNA:	How often have you seen it?

SHAMAN:	I created it.

ANNA:	You’re mad.

SHAMAN:	(LAUGHING) We are one with the land. We understand its language. And 
sometimes we help it restore the balance.

ANNA:	What balance?

SHAMAN:	Revenge. When we see your people killing indiscriminately we think 
of ourselves and we want to help.

ANNA:	You didn’t help the campers.

SHAMAN:	There is no medicine that cures a bullet. And I cannot bring humans 
back from the dead.

ANNA:	What can you do?

SHAMAN:	Ask the tiger when you meet.

SCENE   

DOOR OPENING QUICKLY, ANNA IS OUT OF BREATH

WICKSON:	Didn’t expect you back so soon. Has lover boy run out of steam?

ANNA:	We found the tent.

WICKSON:	Hard to miss really.

ANNA:	Apparently the same can’t be said for the tourists.

WICKSON:	Tourists? Teenagers wasting their lives. When I was their age I was 
working hard.

ANNA:	Now they haven’t got the opportunity. Why did you shoot them?

WICKSON:	Don’t accuse me of murder girl. One other person here quite capable 
of using a gun.

ANNA:	Why would John kill them?

WICKSON:	Thought they’d seen his precious tiger.

ANNA:	The tiger that he invited me here to see.

WICKSON:	Maybe he wanted to confess. He’s right behind you.

ANNA:	Go on then. Confess, I’m listening.

JOHN:	I haven’t done anything. I didn’t even see the people. He told me to wait 
indoors.

WICKSON:	Didn’t want to scare them away.

ANNA:	You said earlier that you had seen them.

JOHN:	I forgot.

WICKSON:	There’s a lot that you’ve forgot and a lot more that you should 
forget.

ANNA:	Two people have been killed. Nobody can easily forget that.

WICKSON:	People get killed in the city all the time. Go and solve those 
crimes.

ANNA:	I’m not a detective. I’m not a tax inspector. I’m not a journalist. I’m 
just someone who wants to know the truth.

WICKSON:	The truth is that you shouldn’t have come here.

ANNA:	Are you going to shoot me too?

JOHN:	No.

WICKSON:	He likes you.

ANNA:	I’m going and I’ll see you both in court.

WICKSON:	If you say anything I’ll blame you for the killings.

ANNA:	I’d like to see you try.

WICKSON:	Your prints are all over the tent.

ANNA:	No forensics linking me to the bodies.

WICKSON:	Won’t be no bodies. I saw you take them away to be buried.

ANNA:	Really?

WICKSON:	John saw that too didn’t you John.

JOHN:	(RELUCTANT) Yes, if anyone asks.

WICKSON:	So do us all a favour and keep your pretty mouth shut.

ANNA:	I’m going.

JOHN:	Wait.

ANNA:	No. You asked me out here to prove that you weren’t crazy. Well you are. 
People have been killed because of you.

JOHN:	I said that I wouldn’t hurt you.

ANNA:	Your father might.

WICKSON:	Already told you that I’m not his father.

ANNA:	You’re a liar and a murderer and I’ll make sure that the IRS investigate 
you even if the police won’t. Goodbye.

WICKSON:	Come back.

ANNA:	I’m going.

WICKSON:	There’s something that you should see. Get out John. Go and play 
with your rabbits.

ANNA:	Rabbits?

WICKSON:	It isn’t just chickens that he eats raw.

EXIT JOHN

WICKSON:	Come upstairs. Look lady you wanted to see this.

ANNA:	See what? (PAUSE) You go first.

WICKSON CLIMBING STAIRS FOLLOWED BY ANNA. A DOOR OPENS THEN A CUPBOARD. ANNA 
COUGHS, THERE’S A LOT OF DUST.

WICKSON:	There’s your tiger.

ANNA:	A skin.

WICKSON:	A female tiger. Been there nineteen years. Very well preserved. Even 
the moths leave it alone. Perhaps they know something.

ANNA:	You killed it.

WICKSON:	It was taking my chickens. I shot it and now the whole thing’s 
happening again.

ANNA:	So why not shoot the new tiger instead of the tourists?

WICKSON:	I’m not saying anything about the tourists. Maybe they saw too much.

ANNA:	If they saw the tiger then why are you shielding it? Surely it’s better 
for you to have people coming here to look. You could charge them to camp out.

WICKSON:	A few dollars here and there.

ANNA:	Better than nothing which is what you have now.

WICKSON:	I can get more.

ANNA:	(SLOWLY) I heard your phone call earlier.

WICKSON:	You’re a nosey devil aren’t you?

ANNA:	There’s a hunter coming isn’t there?

WICKSON:	Five hundred dollars to look, five thousand if he sees it and twenty 
thousand if he kills it. Some people have more money than sense. He might even 
buy this skin and give me some peace.

ANNA:	You want to get rid of it?

WICKSON	No shot animal rests easily.

ANNA:	What about the ghosts of the tourists? Do they rest well?

WICKSON:	Shouldn’t have been on my land. Town kids think it’s funny to be out 
in the country. Never had to kill an animal or light a fire. Yet they laugh at 
me. Think I’m stupid.

SCENE   

CAR DRIVING AWAY

ANNA:	That’s the end of my Tasmanian adventure. Wickson flatly refused to let me 
stay on his land a moment longer. Neither he nor John knew about this tape which 
I’ve hid in my knickers. No way that either of them were going down there. So 
I’ve got recorded his attempted blackmail, his willingness to conceal the deaths 
of two people and the suggestion that he murdered them plus what must be an 
illegal offer to a hunter. State police are going to get the tape in a couple of 
hours. I’m parked at the bottom of the hill now, trying to get my head round 
this. I’m considering the possibility that John Wickson is a lycanthrope, a man 
who turns into a tiger. Maybe it’s his skin. Maybe that’s how Wickson controls 
him. No it can’t be. Wickson would have killed him if so. 

MOBILE RINGS

ANNA:	Hello.

JOHN:	(DISTANT) Anna. Come back. Quickly.

MOBILE IS DEACTIVATED

ANNA:	He said it wouldn’t work properly here. Should I go back? I am supposed to 
be an investigator.

SCENE   

CAR STOPPING. A GUN FIRES. ANNA RUNS UP THE PATH

SCENE   

ANNA ENTERING QUICKLY

ANNA:	John, what have you done?

JOHN:	I had to shoot him. He was going to hunt the tiger.

ANNA:	Hunt you?

JOHN:	Like he hunted my mother.

YAPPING SOUND

JOHN:	It’s okay, she won’t hurt you.

ANNA:	You’re sure?

JOHN:	I was talking to my child.

ANNA:	Your child?

JOHN:	I have a real family. When I change. Hopefully I can make the change 
permanent now. The skin stopped me, held me to this house.

ANNA:	Why not tell me?

JOHN:	Would you have believed me? I wanted you to see for yourself. Now you can 
ensure that the Tasmanian tiger is left in peace. We deserve that.

ANNA:	You’re a man not a tiger. Whatever causes the transformation can be 
treated. It doesn’t have to affect you forever. You could be a normal person, 
especially now Wickson’s not around.

JOHN:	Normal. (LAUGHS) You don’t understand.

ANNA:	Don’t I?

JOHN:	I’m not a man who turns into a tiger. I’m a tiger who turned into a man.

JOHN RUNS AWAY

SCENE   

ANNA IN HER CAR, WHICH IS PARKED ON A QUIET ROAD.

ANNA:	I’m still not sure how to report all this. John Wickson didn’t have a 
human mother; he was the cub of the tiger that Wickson shot. Somehow the shaman 
turned him into a human, perhaps to protect him, perhaps to kill Wickson. He did 
eventually, later than planned. How many others died in the meantime? They’re 
still out there, the tigers. John might have stopped for a photograph. I guess 
he couldn’t control the transformation, didn’t understand maybe that it was him 
in his dreams.  Or perhaps he did know. Perhaps he got me out there to protect 
him from the hunter that Wickson had hired. Either way he’s gone back now. Back 
to the life he should have had.

:	

:	

:	

35 Crown Lofts

Walsall

WS2 9LB













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