Short horror stories

The Wendigo

Deep in the remote forests of northern Minnesota, there was a town called Silver Pines. The town had long whispered about the old legends—the wendigo, a creature of insatiable hunger and madness. These tales had always been told to scare children into behaving, but few truly believed them.

That changed one bitterly cold winter when the snow fell heavier than ever before, isolating Silver Pines from the outside world. The townsfolk huddled in their homes, fires blazing to ward off the icy chill. But no fire could keep out the terror that was coming.

Lena, a young woman living on the edge of town, had noticed strange tracks around her property. They were enormous, like those of a human but grotesquely elongated, with deep, clawed impressions. She dismissed them at first, attributing them to a large animal. But then she heard the noises at night—low, guttural growls and a chilling, whispering wind that seemed to call her name.

One evening, Lena’s brother, Jack, failed to return from checking their traps in the forest. She waited by the window, watching the shadows lengthen and the moon rise. The cold dread in her stomach grew as hours passed with no sign of him.

Desperate, she bundled up and ventured out, her breath fogging in the frigid air. The forest was unnervingly silent, the only sound her crunching footsteps. She called out for Jack, her voice swallowed by the oppressive stillness.

Then, she saw him—standing at the edge of a clearing, his back to her. Relieved, she hurried forward, but as she got closer, her relief turned to horror. Jack was shivering violently, his clothes tattered and smeared with blood. His eyes were wild and hollow, and he muttered incoherently.

"Jack, what happened?" Lena cried, reaching out to him.

He turned to her, and she saw his lips were cracked and bleeding, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. "It's here," he rasped. "The wendigo... it's real."

A sickening feeling washed over Lena as she felt a presence behind her. Slowly, she turned and saw it—a towering figure, gaunt and monstrous, with eyes like burning coals and a mouth twisted into a grotesque grin. Its skeletal frame was covered in ashen, decaying skin, and it reeked of death.

The wendigo lunged, and Lena barely managed to pull Jack away. They ran, but the creature followed, its strides long and effortless. Lena's heart pounded in her chest, her breath ragged and panicked. She could hear it closing in, the snapping of branches and its unearthly growls filling her ears.

They stumbled into a small, abandoned cabin, slamming the door behind them. Lena frantically barricaded it with whatever she could find. Jack collapsed in the corner, his body shaking uncontrollably.

"Stay quiet," Lena whispered, though she knew it was futile. The wendigo’s senses were far too sharp.

Minutes felt like hours as they waited in the darkness. The cabin walls creaked under the weight of the silence. Then, the door shuddered violently. The wendigo was outside, its claws scratching and tearing at the wood.

Lena held Jack tightly, their fear palpable. The door splintered, and a cold wind rushed in. The wendigo’s grotesque face appeared in the opening, eyes burning with an insatiable hunger.

With a final, desperate scream, Lena closed her eyes, knowing there was no escape. The wendigo's cold, bony hands wrapped around them both, dragging them into the night, their screams lost to the howling wind.

In Silver Pines, the legend of the wendigo was no longer just a story. It was a living nightmare, waiting in the shadows of the forest, hungry for more.