Starved-American

"The blizzard killed most of them...

...I just picked off the rest."

The Facts (As taken from Wikipedia.)

The Wendigo is thought of variously as a malevolent cannibalistic spirit that could possess humans or a monster that humans could physically transform into. Those who indulged in cannibalism were at particular risk, and the legend appears to have reinforced this practice as a taboo.

Though descriptions vary somewhat, common to all cultures was the conception of Wendigos as malevolent, cannibalistic, supernatural beings (manitous) of great spiritual power. They were strongly associated with the Winter, the North, and coldness, as well as with famine and starvation.

"The Wendigo was gaunt to the point of emaciation, its desiccated skin pulled tautly over its bones. With its bones pushing out against its skin, its complexion the ash gray of death, and its eyes pushed back deep into their sockets, the Weendigo looked like a gaunt skeleton recently disinterred from the grave. What lips it had were tattered and bloody. Unclean and suffering from suppurations of the flesh, the Wendigo gave off a strange and eerie odor of decay and decomposition, of death and corruption."

At the same time, Wendigos were embodiments of gluttony, greed, and excess: never satisfied after killing and consuming one person, they were constantly searching for new victims.

All cultures in which the Wendigo myth appeared shared the belief that human beings could turn into Wendigos if they ever resorted to cannibalism or, alternatively, become possessed by the demonic spirit of a Wendigo, often in a dream. Once transformed, a person would become violent and obsessed with eating human flesh. The most frequent cause of transformation into a Wendigo was if a person had resorted to cannibalism, consuming the body of another human in order to keep from starving to death during a time of extreme hardship or famine.

The Story

Centuries ago, long before America ever considered rebelling against Mother England, there was a horrible blizzard. Freezing winds and feet upon feet of snow battered the colonies for months on end. It was the longest and coldest winter anyone had ever experienced, even the natives of the land. The further North one dwelled, the worse it was. Thousands found themselves trapped within their homes, their supplies having run out and having a family to feed.

Alfred was just another young man caught in fate's little fallacy, suffering alongside his family. It seemed as if winter would never end. He would never see the sun, or feel the grass, or hear the chirping of birds again. Alfred had already lost his mother to pneumonia and his little sister passed soon after from frostbite. They had stretched their remaining supplies as thin as they could, but still ran out in the end.

They were forced to melt snow for water and had burned almost everything in their home to fuel the fire. Alfred's father was at a complete loss for what to do and his elder brother had long gone silent, turning into himself. Finally, one day while they all sat starving and listening to the wind, their father snapped. The man killed his brother before his very eyes; smashed his skull wide open against the stone hearth of the fireplace. Shocked, Alfred could only watch in horror as his father howled in grief and desperation before turning on him.

Yet that caused something in himself to snap too, and suddenly he was tackling the only family he had left. He had wrapped his thin, bony hands around the other's neck and squeezed and throttled long after the light had left those blue eyes he had inherited. Then, Alfred had fallen back and cried, though he barely had a minute's worth of tears to shed due to dehydration. He had been cold and hungry for a long time, but now he was also alone. He tried to tell himself the blizzard would end soon and then he could rebuild his life with the spring.

That optimism only lasted three days. Due to the cold, Alfred's kin had yet to start decomposing, but there was nothing he could do with the corpses. He contemplated joining them next, just ending his miserable life so he could be with them in the afterlife. Not that he expected his father to be accepted into Heaven after what he had done. However, Alfred simply did not have the heart to take his own life and resigned himself to the long, drawn out process of starving to death.

Unless...

Two more days passed before Alfred got the idea. He had been staring at the corpses and realized they looked similar to the animals his father would drag home to butcher. He had heard of the idea before, of cannibalism, and knew it was a taboo for good reasons. Yet... how wrong could it be if it meant Alfred would live to see another day? Surely, surely the Lord would forgive him for this one transgression to remain alive a little bit longer.

By that point he was far too hungry to be nauseated by the sight, smell and taste of his kin. It was nourishment and their blood quenched his thirst, though it had long congealed. Alfred ate and ate until only bones remained and mourned the fact he was still hungry afterwards. Unable to do much else, he curled up before the dwindling fire to sleep with blood still staining his hands and face.

He was haunted by a horrible nightmare of a creature with burning sapphire eyes and an enormous, fanged grin. It chased Alfred through the shadows until it caught him, sinking its teeth into his chest and ripping out his heart. He woke then with the image of the monster devouring his heart burned into his mind's eye. Yet something had changed. Now he felt a deep hunger, one more powerful than he had ever felt before. One for human flesh.

The blizzard began to die out and Alfred waited. As he waited, he changed. His teeth elongated and became sharp, pointed. His jaw extended, mouth broadening to become impossible wide. His blue eyes sunk back into his face and his fingers extended into long claws. His skin stretched tight over his bones until it tore in places, but he felt no pain.

All he felt was the hunger.

The want.

The need.

And so he hunted.

The Present

Alfred now wanders around, sticking to the shadows and the night for his own safety. He has been mobbed in the past for what he is and does and would prefer not having a repeat experience of the event. He dresses in the rags of clothing he takes from his victims, thus they are often thoroughly stained with blood that is not his own. Alfred revels in the cold and despises too much heat, though he is attracted to the body heat put off by humans. His senses of smell and hearing are his most profound, but he can also sense the heat signatures unique to humans.

He is stronger than the average man and though appearing frail can endure a lot of abuse. However, Alfred's true prowess lies in stalking and pouncing, utilizing agility and speed to surprise his victims rather than face them head-on. He is not quite as violent as most of his kind, but it does not take much to provoke him. It is a rarity for him to do anything but attack on sight, unless the other is not a human. Alfred also holds a soft spot for those who resemble his family (aka any Canada's, England's or France's and their gender swapped counterparts). He will most likely not attack these people and may even protect them.

If you are evil, malicious or bad in any way, you are more prone to him attacking you. Alfred still has that sense of justice he was born with and is more than happy to dish out some well-earned bad karma.