Tales of Gothic Requiems: Wendigo

Tales of Gothic Requiems: Wendigo
“Come now Brother, and let me tell you a story, the tail of how I fell from grace”

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The WENDIGO, It is part of everything now, it is everywhere,

It is all consuming in me now, from the moment I first partook in the killing of my fellow brothers and sisters

and did eat of human flesh,

but where would I even begin to start to describe the horrible feelings of that day

those horrible horrible feelings of excitement, joy and fulfillment, mixed with a feverish morbid curiosity and pure utter shame an horrors, for the eating of the flesh was only the beginning, of what was within

True remorse could not ever find the words right enough to convey the feelings of joy and regret, of unimaginable terror of the heart

and finally anticipation to the next time,

Time, time enough to kill, time enough to heal, and time enough to consume with the all consuming power of the Wendigo,

eater of flesh and the dead, as well as lover of the both,

and I have become death, I have become hunger unbound, in a lustful desire that must be met

nature has not yet defined the limit of my want, and the happiness of indulgence…

I…  I was my brothers keeper, and kept watch over everything in the house of Mendivil

but there came a creeping in my ear, a alarming of my senses that all was not clear

and I began to look around,

First the sense of dissatisfaction took over, and I became overly confrontational, in almost everything

Next, an anger of pure joy over took me, an anger of all that was innocent and those unlearned in the ways of my eyes

I can still remember it all,

And recount where it all pinpointed from,

Being a writer, there were times that I would lose myself in the character that I was writing for,

I would become him, every dark thing that I was writing about,

so much so that even my demeanor would change, my outward appearance

Binge drinking and sleepless nights were just the beginning of changes,

Being overly confrontational and demanding in all my ways, whether I was right or I was wrong

but at any account, I would at least return to myself once again, after was done writing,

And I could once again become just me…

One dark night, during one of the fire moons in September, some years back

There came a scratching upon my wall,

in a dimly lit corner barely seeable at all

as a black widow running low on the move

was something darkly moving,

It was as black as a patch of web spun in a lightless unforeseen night

Larger and more frightening than anything my memory ever could hold

when suddenly I was frozen

Shutdown and numb with fear;

It came upon me as a succubus does, and ravaged me; blacken shape with eyes of fire

showing me in my minds eye all my desires, while busy beguiling me, using my body and spirit for its perverted vengeance,

I heard the word, I heard it for the first time

in a whispered hush it moaned in my ear, as it finished in a darken ecstasy

“WENDIGO” wENDIGO, WenDigOOo

And I became one of the cursed;

Pregnant with false hope, rage, anger, and an ever all consuming hunger for flesh and all its pleasures, both alive and in death;

There at the foot of my bed was, this thing, now standing,

God help me, what was this thing before me,

a horrific apparition waiting before me,

dressed in a tattered ashen black sackcloth and hood, pale sunk in face, glowing dark eyes of liken a jeweled cursed crown

skunked with the grin of both disease and death

When suddenly it rushed forth upon me again

With an out reached claw, it marked me, cutting upon the skin until heavy blood flowed,

I Scream in utmost terror and a sharpen pain, but nothing comes out,

It laughs...

It's laughing;

Mocking me, in tears and helplessness,

With its arms outstretched to the sky,

Its gaze begins to somehow leave me mesmerized,

A helpless feeling inside of sacrifice and despair, a sudden heavy sticky dry nausea felt within

I bared witness of its smoky black fire spreading with power to make its influence take its course,

Woe to those that know the feeling of this sunken depth

when left alone and shattered, stranded hopelessly

Left, not alive but not dead, being mocked by an evilness

and as simple and fast as it has now come, it had gone

and almost immediately was I gone and left out of my mind, as I succumbed to the most heavy sleep of my life

Whether this was all real, a dream or some kind of crazy Hellish fantasy from my warped mind, I was never certain for quiet sometime,

~~~   ~~~   ~~~

  Few years later it had revisited, but in silence, during one of the next fire moons,

Again, feeling myself start to turn during one of my writes, I went out,

I just needed to get the feelings down of what I was trying to write, the character I was trying to capture,

And I was getting frustrated

My younger cousin, not wanting me to go out alone accompanied me

making sure I did not black out and get into any trouble

then there it did hit me, and I could hear it

WENDIGO being sung in my eyes, though none other could hear it,

And there, There in the mist of the dark night,

And with no one there to witness what had happened to me, I finally had fallen from grace

I struck her, I put my hands around her throat, and I did squeeze

I was killing her, but yet while she still had the breath of life in her,

I had started to take notice just how beautiful my cousin was,

I had never noticed before, but now

Now, she was a woman, passing from life onto death,

RIGHT Through my hands, and in my hands, in my hands she lies, in My hands,

Her curvy build, and lovely now exposed breasts,

long dark hair, soaked in blood,

Her skin, slightly darker and tanner than mine, almost like a darker piece of gold,

the sweat dripping from her, the heart beat racing faster and faster,

Her eyes locked onto mine, it… was,,, arousing. Very intoxicating for me,

I leaned in and bit, I bit her in the neck, and I tore out a gigantic piece of flesh

and I did eat, I will never forget the look of horror and absolute pain in her eyes, she suffered, oh my Lord; how she suffered in those final moments

I killed her, and had eaten some of her,

and then it had completed in me,

and left me in an unholy place,

I had become the dark morbid character I had been writing,

I.. WAS.. HIM… IT WAS IT…

In my head, in my ear, in my ear was there a screaming

“ABANDON ALL HOPE, OF FREEDOM

FOR THIS IS WHERE ALL PAST LIFE IS LEFT BEHIND

ENTER THE GATEWAY, DESTINY AND YOUR TRUE STORY AWAITS”

There was a very pungent odor now, hard to exactly describe, the words fail me now for it

The curse, the curse of all writers that don’t know how to let go and lose track of reality and fantasy,

Staring down, looking at her laying there, motionless in the blood red of the fire moon,

She looked so peaceful; there was something so beautiful about her death and the way that she died there in my arms,

all that red, and purplish dark streaming from her, against her skin,

I began to write, I was so inspired by her...

I, was… so, badly,, attracted to her at those incredibly strong moments

I lay with her; I took her in my arms, and lay with her as a man would with his wife,

I knew her, so deeply passionate, so incredibly close, being one with her as I continued to suck the running streaming blood from her body and from her mouth

tearing flesh piece by piece away from her in my gapping mouth,  I was enjoying her, thrusting deeper and deeper into her, becoming one flesh and soul, until I had become completely and utterly satisfied in every way that a man does need to be satisfied from his blushing bride, I got up, and took my weight off of her

And finally, eaten and drunken in my fill, almost as if my free spirit was lifted up away from me, I was left standing there, as if in a trance,  

I picked her up, and held her near to me, and I celebrated in all that had just happened,

and I danced, and I pranced, and I continued to sing for her, singing songs and hymns of olden times gone by

When finally it was done, and my spirit came back down to me,  I took her away from there and chained her now lifeless form to a bed in the manor

Locked, so that none will ever come,

as time did go on, though the skin now grown grey, bloated and odored, pieces well beyond wear, decaying and falling off the bone

I still do talk to her, and take her, though once family and blood; she is now my blushing bride in glorious death,

To have, and to hold, and… to eat from when am moved and hungered to do so

My hunger and my evil spread, as for whatever reason, those that have become privy to see my handy work

Have also come to be married to the deathly beauty of the flesh, in this life and in their next

My churches and followers of this rather galling dark art is growing,

As well are the seeds of my faith now being planted and growing in the minds of those cursed enough to finish reading my work,

The words of my road traveled; do what thy will is only the beginning,

I now find myself being taken over rather frequently now

I do not use knife, or blade or any other instrument of death

but my own two hands, I like the feeling of squeezing the life out of one,

As I slowly begin to devour them, ripping pieces of their neck or breast in my mouth, and eating it in front of their still living eyes

sometimes I wait till death takes them before I begin to know them and become one with them

other times, I am already having my carnal desirous ways with  them while there is still life found in them

I can’t help it, I want them, I desire it so badly,

Such beautiful death, so life fulfilling to my natural now born ways,

my hunger for the flesh, and in our beautiful death, as they lay there, in sleeping eternal dreams,

In more recent times, I have taken to digging up graves and opening coffins to lay with the corpses

Their spirits come up and visit with me,

I speak to them from the beyond, all beautiful natured, and I love them

Though for those spirits that come up and resists me, and my ways

I take their rest from them, as I violate them, hours on end endlessly, tormenting them

THIS, This blasphemous action is so much more fun and enjoyable I must say,

When I am done, I banish them back into judgment and eternal dark,

Where I can still hear the crying and gnashing of their teeth,

Necromancy, one of the finer gifts of the “Wendigo” eater of life, lover and disciple of death

That was near Forty and a half years ago next Fire moon,

I am still blessed with the youth, looks vitality and splendor of a man Thirty Six, the year I changed,

But the wisdom, the wisdom and the strength I have gained is beyond description,

It belongs to life ancient, of older times, whatever walked inbetween, and from far away…

in outer darkness, I fear, it might somehow have the fire and the power to always make its evil take its course