A/N: it will be kind of a short story, probably 5 chapters or so. It's something I've been working on but never seem to finish but I'll try to 😬😗
Chaeyoung as a wendigo
[A little something about wendigoag]
Wendigo —goes with various names and variant spellings but is commonly rendered as Wendigo, Windigo, or Witiko. The Native and First Nations Algonquin people are very familiar with the word itself. Wendigoag (plural term) are malevolent manitou or spirit whose insatiable appetite for human flesh can never be satisfied. In the book Strange Things by Atwood, a wendigo's appearance reflects the bitter winters of the remote North, and that the creature's presence often is signaled by sudden "cold and wind". According to Columbo, Wendigo's cannibalistic behaviour recalls the "vampire", the "zombie", and the "werewolf". Like the vampire, it feasts on flesh and blood. Like the werewolf, its shape changes at will. Like the Medusa, it may scare its victim to death.
Wendigoag also has the power to turn humans into cannibals who suffer the same voracity.
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I stood in front of the full-length mirror, staring blankly at my pale and naked physique. Flocks of red hair falling off my shoulders, tickling my ears and neck, covering my ample bosom. Dull, black eyes met my gaze as I tilted my head to examine my face. Perfect nose and jawline. Long, curly eyelashes. Smooth, pinkish cheek. Well-proportioned brows. Voluptuous red lips.
Nothing has changed, and I haven't aged a day since I triggered my wendigo curse. If this terrible hunger for human flesh and blood isn't a curse, then I don't know what the hell is. Through the course of my existence, living the wendigo life has been nothing but depressing. I watched as my older sister grow more vicious each day. I watched my whole family slaughter more than 20 person a week. And I watched them get away with all of it―the wanton murders and gory feasts.
Driven by my own family, I fell straight to the darkness and before I knew it, I had already lost the very thing I fought so hard to keep―my soul. So I fed, and fed, and fed hoping that I'll get tired of eating and just stop craving human flesh like I stopped wanting venison the moment my wendigo hunger arose. But no matter how large amounts of food I ate, the eager desire just kept growing and growing inside of me. It was years until I finally learned to accept my faith. And with my soul gone, my humanity followed.
I am a Wendigo, and we are born to walk the earth until the very end. Forever starving. Forever craving. Forever tormented.
The wendigo curse brings out the worst in you. That is what it does. It defiles your mind, corrupts your soul until all the goodness in you drains away into oblivion. The insatiable hunger, the vile thoughts, the immortality―those aren't even the worst part yet. What makes the wendigo life unworthy of living is the fact that we can't get attached to humans for so long, or else they'll end up with the same faith as we. The curse don't just destroy us from the inside out, it radiates and warps the pure souls closes to us and turns it into the very worse version it could be―and that's only one of the ways to become a wendigo.
//TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️ self harm//
Sighing, I reached for the sharp blade resting on the cabinet in my left. The knife shimmered in my palm, begging for it to be used. Staring back to the mirror, I raised it in my cheek and without hesitation, dragged it from the other side to another, carving a wide smile on my face. Fresh red liquid oozed from my mouth the moment I was done but in a split-second, the flesh started to heal back into place, leaving no trace of the wound I inflicted myself―except the blood that dried out already. Of course, being a wendigo has its perks too, regeneration is one of it.
