The Wendigo [SHORT STORY]

     "Randall, do you copy?" It was the middle of the night in the deep Appalachian woods. There had been recent complaints of a benevolent spirit within the shadowed forest. People noticed many go missing, and heard calls that couldn't have been screams from any animal or human. They discovered many bodies within the woods over many days, but never thought of it as anything more than frostbite. Recently, however, a carcass was discovered that had giant slash marks across it, along with its flesh gone and a gaping hole on its chest. The face was disfigured beyond recognition, and its heart had turned completely black. People had no idea what to believe after the sight of this disturbing corpse.
      "Loud and clear Ebert, I'm on my way to set up camp on the eastern side." A paranormal research team had set up camp in order to discover the truth of this horrifying mystery. Many have claimed it to be a native mythological being, known simply as The Wendigo. As the team researched before camping out, they found the back story of this mythical figure. The story had many changes throughout history, but the origin remains the same. A hunter had ventured into the woods one night, only to become trapped within. Slowly turning to cannibalism, the hunter began to hunt any human that entered the woods. As it perished due to the deep cold, a spirit took over. The thin, tall, and lanky body turned to black fur, and the head turned from a human-like face to one of a deer's skull, with giant antlers that made the already imposing figure that much terrifying. It still hunts any and all human life that sets foot within its home. With this knowledge, the paranormal team was extremely hesitant to enter into the deep, shadow woods. The only reason that they chose to continue on was because of the cash offered to them. The town offered 10,000 dollars in order to stay for 2 nights. The paranormal team accepted this offer, and soon was setting up camp within the woods.
      "I still can't believe we're taking on a demonic entity for ten grand, guys. Did we really stop and think if we could actually survive this?" A voice said over the radio.
       "We all know the risks, and we can deal with them accordingly. This is ten thousand we're talking about here. We could do so much with ten grand!" Another voice said.
       "Well uh, I guess you have a point then," Randall said over the radio. It was better than arguing with Ebert, the one who got them into all this. He built his tent and got a fire started. The warm from the flames felt like a thick wool blanket on his frostbitten body. He called over the radio to let everyone know he was finished setting up camp.
      "Randall here, finished setting up camp on the east side. Ready to set off whenever y'all are," he said with no indication of excitement at all.
      "Oh c'mon, wuss. It's just like hiking! You like hiking!" Another voice said. This was Dimas, the one who really wanted to do this adventure even without money being involved.
     "Well I'm pretty sure hiking doesn't involve getting possibly murdered by a depraved skull-faced demon!" Randall exclaimed over the radio.
      "That's just adrenaline to keep you moving dude! I'm ready when everyone else is to start moving too!" Dimas said excitedly.
      "Ebert here, ready to start moving. Everyone, get back to your camps by sunrise. Make sure you know a way to get back," Ebert said flatly, the same voice he always has. Pfff yea, make sure a way to get back. Everyone knows that you go too deep, you get lost, especially in this neck of the woods. Randall decided to tie a red ribbon onto a tree that was a few feet from his camp. Now he'd know when he'd be close. He started to venture out, and the forest got deeper and deeper. Snow obscured his vision, and he couldn't be sure what is and isn't real. His mind especially was enjoying messing with him. A tree would barely creak, and he'd turn as if it was a demon ready to attack him.
   
     Ebert walked along a path that had been laid by the people. This was their hunting trail. To be honest, he didn't really believe that there was this being known as a Wendigo within these woods. The body could've just been a bear attack. Right? The cold was overpowering, and as he trudged on, he kept trying to ignore the frost that was building onto him. Piles and piles of snow landed on him. It felt like he had been buried 6 feet under the north pole. There was no real room to argue though, well, in his head at least. Ten thousand dollars, there's no way he could say no to that. All that for only two nights? He was excited at that idea.

      Dimas was searching around like crazy at this point. He kept going deeper and deeper into the woods. He really wanted to know if and where the Wendigo was. He always loved the mythology of the Wendigo, and always wanted to know if it was real or not. He kept going further and further into the woods. Until eventually he could make out a shape. He tried to make out what it was. It was tall, shadowed in darkness. That's all he knew.
     
      "Hey, I got a sight on something that could be what we're looking for here," a voice called over the radio. Randall was back at camp, almost having been frostbitten.
       "Dimas, describe the shape to me," Ebert said flatly over the radio.
       "Well it's tall, I can't see much cuz of the shadows, but it's insanely tall," Dimas said. Randall and Ebert realized that, this was no mythology at this point.
       "Dude, Dimas. Run!" Randall called over the radio. Soon though, running would've done nothing.
       "Oh god... Oh my god! It's... FUCK!" Randall heard stomping decently close to him. He hid in his tent, which, was the only source of safety out here.
       "Dimas, come in Dimas!" Randall called. Over the radio, screams of terror turned to screams of pain. He heard loud growling, and fleshy chomps that could easily kill someone. Dimas kept yelling, but a loud slam silences him. Static filled the radio, before it finally died from the coldness.
      "Dimas?! Dimas?!" Randall called. Nothing. The only thing he heard was a loud shrieking, but not from the radio. He realized he was in the kill zone at this point. He looked outside, and that black shadow that Dimas described stood before him.
      "Hey, Ebert?" Randall whispered over the radio.
      "I hear ya, go on," Ebert said with a slight bit of fear in his voice.
      "I think I see that black shadow that Dimas saw. I'm just gonna hide in my tent and see if that makes it go away," Randall whispered. He was terrified by now. He watched as that shadowy figure came closer, and closer, until it was basically towering over him. He watched as the figure looked into the tent, seeing if there were any life within. He held his breath. The figure's face was as they had described it. A beige, bloodied skull with protruding antlers. The worst fear he had up until then had been met.

It saw him...

The demon scratched with its sharp claws, tearing the tent wide open. It hoisted him high up and threw him back to the ground. He cowered in pain, but that was the least of his worries at this point. He was again lifted up as the Wendigo fiercely growled at him. He was lifted higher and higher, and soon enough, was impaled by the antlers of the Wendigo. He was still alive, but just barely. The demon knew this, and crushed his face in by smashing his face into a tree multiple times.

     "Randall?! Randall come in!" Ebert called. He heard the screams of Randall, but soon enough it was all static. Ebert for the first time was actually scared. Lost in a forest, no one in it, and actual proof that there was a demon in these woods. He ran, looking for any way out. It felt like every turn he took led him to the same place. The trees were mazelike, guiding him to the same place every single time. Faintly, in the distance, something caught his attention.
     
      "HELP! HELP ME!" Randall's voice called out. He ran towards it, blindly. He got closer and closer to the screams.
      "HELP! SOMEBODY! PLEASE!" He got closer and closer. And soon enough, the screams faded out. He was right in place. The Wendigo stalked him from a distance. Ebert, frozen in fear, was helpless as the demon got closer and closer to him. Until...

It grabbed him...

The Wendigo began by snapping his spine in half. He then, was lifted high and slammed down yet again. His arm was torn off, and his head was severely scratched. His leg was bitten off, and he was impaled in the chest by the demon's antlers. He was thrown around, completely helpless as the demon kept killing him. He was lifted into the skull's point of view. The skull uttered out his name in a slow, demonic tone.
     "Eb..ert." His neck was snapped in half, killing him instantly.

     After 5 days, the town went to check on the team, only to recover their carcasses. Only one was recovered though, and that was Ebert's body. The imagery of his headless corpse and contorted body left a mark on the small town. The locals now no longer hunt in that forest, and a statue was created in tribute to the team. With the two bodies left within the forest, however, one can only imagine the fate they suffered. Were they eaten? Were they turned into other, more ravenous Wendigoes? No matter the fate, however, the locals still believe that whatever is within the thick, shadowed forest still will continue to be a demonic entity that no one can ever imagine.

That being the entity known simply as....

...The Wendigo.