Turn the Page
Wendigo
When deepening shadows bleed into darkest night;
When horrified suspense grows with fading light;
When crickets and owls suddenly cease all sound,
When moon's pale beams illumine the ground;
Then from the grave, hell vomits and spews
The dread Wendigo with massive thews.
Ravenous and emaciated, yellowed fang and claw;
Faultless hunters, they prefer their meat raw.
The deepest woods are their undisputed domain;
On cloudless nights or 'midst pouring rain.
The stench of grave rot clings to their form;
As they hunt manmeat, their belly to warm.
Once human, now cursed by cannibalism or greed;
Endlessly hungering on manflesh to feed.
Supernaturaly powerful beyond mere mortals,
Imbued with might through hellish portals.
Legend among the Algonquin tribes for hundreds of years;
Their dark deeds gave credence to the natives fears!
Slaughtering men, women, and children by the score,
Then feasting on their prey and bathing in gore.
Even now doctors prate of "Wendigo psychosis",
A "mental illness", with cannibalism its focus.
Perhaps the Algonquin people, native to this land,
Knew far more than doctors understand.
Wendigo
