Wendigo

July 17, 1846

I had to continue running. It was right on my tail. I stumbled over an exposed tree root. My ankle ached in pain but I had to keep moving. I had no clue what was behind me, but it sounded mean. It sounded angry. It sounded hungry. Its hair was long and wild, almost animalistic. The only thing that had me believing it was somewhat human was its body shape. It was tall and lanky and as pale as Snow White herself, but a lot greyer. It had the speed of a rabbit. Its dress, or what I assumed it to be, was ragged and worn. Its teeth were as yellow as the midday sun. Its narrowed eyes were blank.

I was growing hotter and hotter by the second. It was summertime in Ember City, Nevada, the hottest city on Earth, in mid July. Sweat dripped from my pores. I turned back to see if I had lost the mysterious creature. Nope. My arms kept on pumping. My feet kept on running. My mind kept on spinning. What was this creature? Where did it come from?

I broke through the treeline of the wood that I had just run through. I had finally reached the town. I lost the creature. I stood in the middle of the wide dirt path everyone mistook for a road. A tumbleweed skidded past me. The doors of the saloon to my left were swinging in the wind. Horses were tied up outside the saloon. I adjusted my wide-brimmed hat and tucked my hair into the back. There isn't much business here on a Tuesday, especially at 2:45 in the afternoon. People stayed in their homes or in workplaces, trying to escape the extreme summer temperatures.

I slowly limped into the doors of the empty saloon. I saw my mom, who tended the saloon for the early afternoon shift. "Where have you been? I've been so worried about you Charlotte!" she exclaimed in her thick southern accent.

"I had gone out to the woods to, uh- look for some berries and stuff," I replied, only halfway lying. That was my original purpose of going out.

"You know you aren't supposed to go out to those woods alone, especially without telling me. You are only 14," she scolded.

"I know Ma. I won't do it again," I fully lied this time. I had to figure out what was chasing me. I couldn't live knowing that someone- something is out there, something that is capable of a lot of things, including killing me, or even worse, others.

"Hey Ma, I think that I hurt my ankle pretty bad. Would you take a quick look?" I questioned, changing the subject. I sat on a barstool and slowly slid my boot off my foot, wincing. I slipped off my sock and pulled up my pant leg.

"That looks pretty bruised to me," she said. She tore off a long, narrow, strip off the bottom of her dress and tied it around my ankle. "Here," she stated, satisfied. "The compression should help."

"Thanks Ma, I'm gonna head over to the library to do some research. Its kinda urgent," I said, hoping not to stir a new conversation.

"Okay. What's the research for?" she inquired.

Danget. I thought. Exactly what I didn't want to happen. "Uhhh- just a school assignment," I lied. I was going to do research on the thing that was chasing me.

"Okay. Sounds like fun," she said sarcastically. "See you around suppertime?"

"Yes Ma," I said and walked out the doors of the saloon, feeling terrible for having such little integrity, and lying.

I ambled over to the library three doors down. Its white doors seemed to greet me with a promising smile. At my feet was yesterday's newspaper, the top read "July 16, 1846," and underneath it read in all capital letters, "EMBER CITY LOCAL MAN DISAPPEARED IN WOODS ON OUTSKIRTS OF TOWN." It must have been the creature that chased me, I concluded. I opened the white doors and saw shelves upon shelves of books. The doors shut quietly behind me. I made my way over to the fantasy, fiction, and mythology section. I decided to check the mythology section first. I looked at books about werewolves, vampires, sirens, cerberus, cretan bull, and many more. I had no luck until I found an old newspaper article about another abduction, dated June 16, 1846, with the same description of a kidnapping right on the outskirts of Ember City. Then more articles from May, April, March, February, January, and many months and years before that, all on the 16th of each month. I figured I would have to figure out what this creature was, along with how to smite it, before August 16, 1846.

I knew what its pattern was, and its method of disappearances, since it had tried to take me. I continued to search for any picture that would line up with the description of the monster that chased me. Nothing. Out of irritation, I laid my head on the table. Within a few seconds, I fell into a deep sleep.

I heard a voice off in the distance. "Charlotte," it called my name. I was surrounded in darkness, blacker than night. The scenery shifted around me. Now I was running, stumbling over exposed tree roots. The sun peered through the trees and lit the path I was running upon. This must have been earlier today. I glanced behind me and saw the creature. I suddenly realized this was a dream. I stopped in my tracks, knowing it couldn't hurt me. It got closer and when it was just about to run right into me, I hopped out of the way, sending it falling to the ground. The scene around me shifted again, the same darkness, then a shack in the middle of the woods. It was damp, dark, and overall, just plain disgusting. I cringed at the sight of human bones and carcases, along with several living people who are strung to the ceiling by iron chains, one of which I identified from the paper to be Mr. Alexander, the teacher at the town's schoolhouse. This must be the "lair" of the creature. I tried to find a way out of the shed, and after a few twists and turns, I made it out. I memorized my surroundings. The moss on the trees was facing away from me, so the shed was in the southern part of the woods. There was a ring of dead grass for about 300 feet around the shed. "Charlotte-" the strange voice called again. I turned to my left to see the figure standing next to me. I screamed. Without even thinking, my feet started to spin underneath me. We ran for a few minutes, the creature on my tail the entire time. Then, all of a sudden, she burst in flames beside me; the flames coming from my own hands.

Abruptly, I sit up, my breathing heavy. I knew it was just a dream, but it seemed so vivid. I remembered the entire thing. The scenery, the grass, the fire; the fire from my own hands. I had to know if that was real. Then, a book slid from the shelf, without being touched. I cautiously walked over to it and pick it up. A piece of paper fell from the book and glided down to the dark wooden floor. It read: Wendigo: a mythological creature with superhuman powers, such as superhuman strength, speed, immortality, and the ability to imitate human voices. It can be killed by fire, wounded by silver-tipped arrows, and can be kept at bay by a series of anasazi symbols. I knew what I had to do. I had to kill the monster, the wendigo. My plan: to use myself as live bait, lead the monster to its lair, smite it there, and rescue all of the people.

August 16, 1846

My plan was working. I had practiced my superpower I had collected from my dream; somehow creating flames with my hands. I was going to save Mr. Alexander, and all of the others that were still alive. The wendigo chasing me, trailing right behind me. My feet were bare, so I could run faster. Suddenly, I could feel the crunching of dead grass under my feet. I knew I was getting close. Within the dense forest ahead, I could see the appearance of the shack in the distance. I sprinted as fast as I could to get as far ahead from the monster as I could so I could trip it, as I had done in my dream. It worked out the exact way I had anticipated. The wendigo toppled over my foot. The fire balled up in my hands and I struck the ugly, manged creature. It howled in agony. Before I knew it, it turned to a pile of dust.

I ran inside to release the people who were chained. I had memorized all the twists and turns it took me through in my dream. The second as I got a glimpse of the three remaining survivors, I saw their clothes, or what was left of them, were stained with blood, along with their faces. Their eyes tired, but hopeful. The woman's hair was as messy as the wendigo's. I unchained the three people who I recognized as Mr. Alexander, Mr. Hartly, the manager at the saloon, and Miss Smith, the assistant librarian. They all thanked me redundantly. They had a hard time walking back to the town, but in about 30 minutes, we reached the main road. My ma rushed out to the path and hugged me. I had saved the people. I had saved the town.