Scary ghost stories and stuff (1)

Cry of the Wendigo

The Wendigio is a supernatural, cannibal creature of Native American folklore, said to prowl the deep Canadian and Alaskan forests. In the southern United States, its counterpart, the legendary Rougaroo, combs the swamps for victims. On the western plains, it is known as the Camp Eater, devouring whole villages and tribes. All three possess incredible strength and speed, and the hunger of a werewolf. There is no escape for those who run afoul of such a beast.

This tale takes place in the frozen Alaskan wasteland, where an Aleut tribe has always known such monsters exist. They stand ready to kill anyone tainted by the curse.

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The unfortunate young girl’s name was Akkilokipok; in the Aleut language this meant soft snow. And when Soft Snow became pregnant, she swore she had been with no man.

“How can this be?” she beseeched the tribal shaman.

The two knelt in the tiny igloo, while the old man consulted the spirits. He finally spoke in a tense whisper, “You are not with child. You are with Wen-di-go!”

Soft Snow gasped, “My baby is a monster?”

Hot tears ran down her cheeks as she recalled the ancient legend about the creature who was born in ice caves and emerged to prowl the vast expanses of snow, searching for human flesh. A shape-shifter, the beast would appear as a man, able to unlock doors and turn knobs to gain entrance into homes. And then as he crept upon his sleeping victims in the darkness, he became the flesh-devouring Wendigo.

Once he was in his true and terrible form, there was no escape. The more flesh the Wendigo consumed, the more he had to have. And the beast was smart, gaining all the knowledge each of his victims had stored in their lifetimes, including that contained in books and maps.

Soft Snow remembered that, according to legend, the Wendigo and his siblings were born in a remote ice cave and there was only one such monster abroad in the land at any given time. Should it happen that any human was able to best a Wendigo, one of the fallen monster’s brothers would emerge from that cave to take his place.

“A Wendigo has been slain in a neighboring village 20 miles to the east,” the shaman told the girl, his voice breaking into her tortured thoughts. “The prophecy must be fulfilled. The cycle will continue.” He added sadly, “It is part of Nature and there is nothing we can do.”

And then the elder betrayed the child by warning their village. Upon hearing the news, everyone turned his or her back, shunning the one who was no longer welcome to live among them. Soft Snow’s tearful pleadings fell on deaf ears and, when she approached her mother, the older woman spat at the girl’s feet. “How could you have brought this upon us?” the mother accused and then she, too, turned her back on her only living child.

And so it was decided that Soft Snow must be sent far from the village without food or other means of survival. It was their hope she would perish somewhere out on the great, white expanse without bringing the beast within her to term. But the child kept hobbling back, begging to stay, to be allowed to live with her tribe, the only family she had ever known. It was not until some of the hunters angrily stamped their boots and threatened her with spears that she finally backed away.

As the others watched with narrowed eyes and cruelly curved mouths, the desperate child headed out into the swirling storm. Never to be seen alive again.

Since there was no place to rest, Soft Snow wearily stumbled along, trying to avoid hungry predators. And just as she collapsed onto the tundra and was about to perish, she saw lights  glittering brightly, like tiny stars, and the exhausted girl crawled in that direction before realizing it was reflected light bouncing off the icy face of a cave.