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Wendigo

Thomas Ware

By Thomas WarePublished 3 years ago 6 min read
3
Wendigo
Photo by Tobias Tullius on Unsplash

Hungry. Hungry, hungry, hungry.

All I could feel was the gnawing ache of the hunger. It drove me forward, kept me from resting. I crept through the woods like a ghost, eyes roving through the landscape for any hint of movement. Anything to eat. There was no fruit to be found in the winter here, nothing growing on the bare branches and snowy shrubs. Only the animals. Fat and hot with rich blood. It had been so long since I’d eaten. It was like a constant pit in my stomach, sending pulsing pain throughout my body, slowing my thoughts. I couldn’t think about anything else.

Up ahead, a sound. People. Someone was talking. It had been so long since I’d seen people. I’d been out here in the cold so long, so hungry, hungry, hungry. Maybe they had food. The thought sharpened my vision, sent a tingle down my arms into my fingers. I needed to find them and ask them if they had food. They were far away yet – I quickened my pace, caring less about making noise. What mattered was that I find them, find the food.

As I drew nearer, the voices cut off. They began calling out something that I couldn’t understand. Did they hear me already? I could almost see them. They were at the edge of a clearing where the trees thinned out, and had built a small fire. I smiled, thinking about being around humans again, eating their food, sharing their warmth. Mostly the food. I started salivating, thinking about what they had with them.

Just as I broke through the tree line, the humans scattered. There were three of them, two men and a woman, bundled up nice and cozy in puffy winter coats. I saw now that what I thought was a clearing was really a frozen lake, which they were now attempting to walk across. Were they running away from me? I hadn’t gotten a haircut in a while, but I wasn’t a monster. I was just hungry. They were still yelling at each other, but it was gibberish to me. I couldn’t focus on the words. The fear in their eyes when they looked back at me made me sad. I just wanted to ask them for food. I tried smiling at them, but that only seemed to make it worse.

They had left one of their backpacks behind. I lunged for it eagerly, ripping the zipper open. Food. I could smell it, I could smell meat. I threw everything out until I found it. Just jerky. Dry, tasteless, unhelpful. I ate it anyway, wrapper and all. I was still so hungry. I needed it hot, I needed it fresh, I needed it now. Granola bars and trail mix lay on the snow where I’d tossed them. I threw those in my mouth too, crunching the plastic with the flavorless nuts. Still so hungry. Still so hungry. I was starving, goddamnit, and all they had was processed junk. I shook the backpack, making sure I hadn’t missed anything edible. I would eat shoe leather if I had to, I just needed to fill up the black hole in my gut.

Nothing else.

I let out an involuntary roar, beating at the ground with my fists. They came out all this way without real food? Why? Why was I so unfortunate as to run into the only campers in the country without food to eat? I would take everything they had. I would leave them hungry in the cold woods, just like me. The fire had gone out, logs now crusted with ice. No warmth, no comfort for those who would leave a hungry traveler to die.

I snapped my head around to the lake. They were far out now, almost to the center of the lake. More like a pond, really, not more than a football field in length. Not far enough to run from me. They were walking quickly but carefully, stealing terrified looks over their shoulders. Part of me wished they would break the ice and drown, but that would ruin the food. The food I needed to survive, to keep going. The food I needed to stop the endless agony of starvation. No, I needed them alive.

I stood slowly, frame shaking with the effort. What little I’d put in my stomach seemed to make the pain more intense. My body was crying out for more. I knew they had it with them. I could see it in their fat, juicy faces. I licked my lips, tasting iron. Remembering how I’d been chewing on them earlier just to feel the blood.

One step onto the ice, though, and it cracked beneath my weight. I took another hesitant step and plunged into the icy water. I bellowed in shock, scampering back to shore.

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the hole I’d created, and understood why the humans had been so scared. I looked dreadful. My hair had mostly fallen out, leaving long, greasy chunks falling over a gaunt face. My eyes were yellow and sunken in, my teeth sharp and stained. Still, that was no excuse not to share their food. They owed it to me. It was mine. I curled my long, bony fingers into fists and screamed out at the lake.

They were all huddled in the center now, staring at me. I could almost see the blood pumping in their rosy faces from here. They were warm, together, well-fed, all the things I could never have. They didn’t deserve it. I tried again to get closer, but it was clear that the ice wouldn’t hold my weight. I would have to stay on shore until the ice melted or they came back to me.

“Come here, campers!” I shouted at them, trying to smile, not sure it was working. “I just want your food. I’m a hungry traveler, you see. I won’t hurt you.”

I wasn’t sure if they understood. The woman buried her face in one of the men’s coats. The other man seemed to be trying not to cry. He yelled something back, but it didn’t make sense to me. I was just too damned hungry to concentrate on the words.

Fine, I thought. I’ll wait here until they calm down and get some sense. I stalked around the edge of the lake, watching them out of the corner of my eye while still vigilant for movement in the trees. The noise had probably scared the wildlife off. A thought occurred to me and I returned to the hole I’d made in the ice. Maybe there were… yes!

Faster than a whip my claws snatched a wriggling brown fish from the water. Before I could stop myself the fish was in my mouth, bones cracking, blood gushing down my chin. It was gone in seconds, and I found myself licking my hands clean. Yes, the fresh meat tasted so good, it was like heaven, and it was only a few bites. The hunger had barely quieted, I needed more, more raw meat and hot blood.

I stared into the ice hole, but it looked like the fish were scared away. Just like these campers. Too scared to know what was good for them, too scared to give me what I wanted. That was fine. I could wait all winter if I had to. I could tell they were fat. They had more to give. Juicy and delicious and plump. They would have to come to shore, and I would be waiting. I was too hungry to let them go.

Hungry, hungry, hungry. Always hungry.

monster
3

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