Garden of Horrors

Night of Mythos

The moonlight danced upon the window, casting shadows throughout the room. Robert sat silently at his desk, waiting for something. What he was waiting for, he didn't know, he couldn't say. He flipped through the tattered book on the desk in front of him. Monsters of different shapes and origins flashed before his eye as he turned the pages. Which one? Which one? He thought silently, eye scanning. Which monster was he waiting for? The legends he knew of rustled through his brain. The fear of not knowing what was coming after him was driving him insane. Which one? Which one? He flipped back to the front of the tome, perhaps if he went through based on his location he would be able to figure it out.

A creak came from somewhere within the cabin. Robert jumped, slamming his chair backwards. His heart beating in his throat. 'It's here,' he thought. 

"Help... Please help." An inhuman voice rasped from downstairs. Robert took a steadying breath before grabbing the book and flipping to the index. 'Mimicry, mimicry,' Robert thought as he trailed his index finger over the yellowed pages.

"Robert," The thing rasped, the words scratching its throat. "Where are you... Robert!" It's voice had changed slightly. It was becoming echoes of voices failing to combine, failing to sound human at all. Robert's eye finally found the name of the creature that was calling to him, a Windigo. Robert felt his blood chill, and a lump form in his throat. He could not stop a Windigo himself, he was an inexperienced monster hunter, not a Shaman. He closed the book and clutched it tightly to his chest. 'What did I get myself into.' He thought, his eye brimming with tears.

"Robert I know... you're in here." The Windigo's voices echoed, followed by the sound of something climbing the stairs. A moldy smell filled Robert's nose as he slowly backed towards the second story bedroom's window, his eye trained on the door. 

"Robert," it wheezed from the top of the stairs. "Help me Robert. Help me." It pleaded sinesterly. "You smell so tasty Robert!" It started scraping the wall leading to the closed door. Robert's breath was shaky as he turned to the window and tried prying it open.

He didn't hear the Windigo quietly open the door and step in the room, hunched over for it was too tall for the cabin. Giving up on trying to pry the window open; Robert looked at the glass and felt his pants grow wet as he saw the reflection staring back at him. The Windigo loomed behind him, grey, bony hands outstretched reaching for him. Robert made eye contact with it's black, dead, sunken eyes in the reflection and knew that his voice would soon join the canopy that was the Windigo's.