The woods are silent, unmoving.
"What a surprise to find you here so deep in the night!"
"What's the rush?" A second voice rasped from the darkness.
Tress wisped around him betraying danger.
Yet he stood unwavering.
The ground was damp and the air smelled like kerosene, burning the nose.
O Wendigo can you smell? O can you smell?
"Boy so young I smell and feel only death and decay."
"Then listen the smell is that of the kerosene tree long dead and gone."
"Baa! A useless tree put on this Earth for naught!"
"O Wendigo it serves more than you know for it gives life and death."
"It gives life yet doesn't help you in your need!"
The trees again betraying the movement of the beast coming ever closer.
"O Wendigo you are decayed and like the tree long since gone."
A flash and a spark created a flame exposing the smiling boy.
The match fell from the boys young nimble fingers and touched the damp kerosene ridden earth.
Screams ripped from the beast called the Wendigo escaped the Grove of kerosene trees.
"O Wendigo, O Wendigo, O goodbye you ancient Wendigo."
YOU ARE READING
Wendigo
PoetryAn ancient creature lurks within the confines of a forest that lies just beyond the outskirts of a small village.