The Wendigo In Me

“Pierre, the next time we are looking for somewhere to take a vacation we won’t be asking you for suggestions. Why we ever let you talk us into a backpacking trip into the woods of Northern Maine still makes no sense to me.”

“Come on, Mitch, you have to admit the forests, the meandering brooks, and the variety of wildlife is mesmerizing. Besides, I wanted you guys to see what it was like where I grew up. Spending your whole life in the city is boring. How about you, Will? You must find this place fascinating?”

“What I find fascinating, Pierre, is that I still have small sections of skin that haven’t been bitten by those little black flies you call No-See-Ums. There is a dark cloud of the buzzing mini-beasts following each of us, just waiting for one of us to stop moving so they can move in for the kill.”

“Okay, I’ll admit it. Taking you city boys into the woods probably was a bad idea, but I had to give it a try. I mean, if I can adapt to living in a crowded city you should adjust to living out here for a few days, right?”

Will and Mitch stared at each other for several seconds, then turned to Pierre and in unison replied, “Nope.” The three friends laughed, then continued on their trek through the woods. Pierre continued leading his friends along a partially overgrown path that meandered through dense forest, across small bubbling streams, and past welcoming fields. It was in one such field that the trio came across a ramshackle hunter’s cabin.

“This is great! No tent tonight, boys.” Pierre said in a cheery tone.

“Are you saying we should break into this shack and take it over for the night?”

“We’re not breaking in, Will. This is a hunting cabin. Hunters use it during open season, and as long as nobody is using it, we can stay here for the night.”

Mitch looked at his friend with a dubious expression before replying.

“What you’re saying may be true, Pierre, but look at that place. It could collapse on itself at any minute. Even if it makes it through the night, the shed is probably infested with spiders, mice, and God knows what else. I hate sleeping on the tent floor, but lying on any mattress in that place is a non-starter.”

Will was about to agree with Mitch when a sudden downpour sent the men scrambling for the shelter of the cabin. The interior of the building was more welcoming than its exterior. The walls and roof looked solid, and none of the windows were broken. There were a few spider webs, but that was to be expected in a seldom-used hunting cabin. The only unexplainable items were the randomly placed dark stains on the floor and walls, and over the fireplace, someone had drawn a picture of a humanoid figure with large antlers growing out of its head. The stains and the picture gave the place a creepy feeling, but it was better than setting up the tent in a deluge.

Pierre’s focus became immediately fixated on the drawing, and he was mesmerized by the image. After standing motionless for several minutes, Pierre turned to his friends and proclaimed in a panicky voice, “We can’t stay here.”

“Of course we can. It’s pouring outside. What’s up with you and that stupid drawing?” asked Mitch.

Pierre slowly turned to his friends and explained. “This drawing is of a Wendigo. The creature comes from ancient Algonquian folklore and is the most evil spirit in their mythology. The spirit inhabits its prey and turns them into cannibals. Someone drew this picture as a warning to anyone entering this cabin. We must go, now!”

“Hell no. I’m not going anywhere in this rain.” Proclaimed Will.

“Neither am I,” said Mitch, reinforcing Will’s stand.

“Okay, okay, we’ll stay here until the rain stops, but then we leave immediately, and we stay together at all times. No arguments, understand.” Pierre said as forcefully as possible. His companions nodded their heads in consent. The three sat in silence, listening to the rain and wind pummel the old cabin in the woods. It was Pierre who was forced to break his own rule. Old cabins in the woods do not have indoor plumbing. This one had an outhouse fifty feet from the only door.

“Okay, I can’t hold it any longer,” announced Pierre. “I’m going to make a run for it, and I want you guys to watch me. Never let me or the privy out of your sight until I get back here, got it.”

“You can count on us,” replied Mitch. Both men took up positions in front of the window and watched Pierre as he swung open the door and dashed to the outhouse.

It doesn’t take a Wendigo long to implant itself into a new host. About as long as it takes for a person to relieve himself. Pierre felt an unusual sense of calm surge over him, followed by a ravenous hunger. It wasn’t just a regular hunger, but an insatiable lust for human flesh, and he knew just where to find some.

The rain began to ease as Pierre nonchalantly walked back to the cabin. His Wendigo passenger hadn’t been inside there since he devoured his last host. That feast was a spectacular event, leaving the floor and walls spattered in blood. He could see his next meal watching him through the window, so he smiled and gave them a friendly wave and a thumbs-up all clear sign. Tonight will be the best night ever.