My favorite audience, (my only audience) I am glad that you have decided to read this story, I must warn you though this story is violent so please don't give me any bad reviews 'cause I am one of them sick people that has the evil gene like Hitler or Walt Disney this is all for entertainment, so enjoy. Also I would like you to please note if anyone is offended by me using the word Indian ignore it and replace it with the word Native American.
Bobby hated going out at night, even though he was seventeen years old he still remembered all those stupid boogeyman stories, especially the ones the old Indian told him and the other local kids when he was little the one about the….
He grabbed the axe and walked into the cool night, it was cold windy nights like this that all of those stupid ghost stories happened. Damned old man sitting on his porch muttering about cannibals, he though walking to the chopping block the cold air stinging his lungs, and the breeze cutting into his face. Stories about the evil sides of nature, about darkness and cannibalism.
Bobby grabbed the nearest log and with little effort lifted it onto the chopping block and then hefted his axe and split the log down the center. We could just get a bigger fire place he though bitterly, then grabbed the next log and split it. As he continued to split logs, he felt as if he was being watched as if he could turn around and see a terrible ogre or something standing right behind him. And he started to remember the stories about the dark side of nature of terrible beings whose very touch would make you hungry.
It darts in the corner of our eye walking on the wind and stalking its prey.
Bobby started to chop faster, feeling childish, but fearful, of the one who walks on the wind.
It's touch is cold like ice and it makes you hungry.
He still didn't have enough logs and it was cold outside, and he was sure that IT was behind him intentionally terrifying him.
And you're so hungry you just go insane, and then you eat your family.
Bobby almost couldn't take it he left his axe in the on the ground and picked up his chopped firewood and began to walk towards his back door, then run to his back door.
Then it dropped from the corner of his eye and flew towards him a menacing spectral humanoid with charred off feet and a terrible icy aura. And the things clawed into his shoulders pinning him to a tree and rending flesh from bone.
It was terrifying and he could see it's face so close the stump that was once a nose near pressed against his face.
He felt cold except for the blood running down his arms.
Bobby writhed in the incorporeal creature's surprisingly strong grip insane from fear, wetting himself in fear. It was hideous, insane; it was here to get him. Just like the old Indian had always told him about. The Wendigo the cursed cannibal spirit that walks on the wind.
And it laughed and touched his face, staring at Bobby with endless tunnels of eyes, and razor sharp teeth pushing through it's gums. Then it flew off leaving a chill trail.
Bobby felt cold all over and hungry so hungry. And fearful and like all of the evil all the rottenness of his life was taking over he dropped to the ground first rolling around screaming in a stupor, then on all fours like a wolf howling at the moon, raving at the moon, screaming at the moon, and so hungry.
His mom walked out. "Honey what's wrong, did you hit yourself with the axe?" She asked hysterically.
"No." Bobby said getting up, trembling all over. "I am fine, but I am so hungry. And you smell so good."
He ran at his mom and grabbed her she seemed disgruntled and didn't react.
Dull human teeth tore into skin and pulled up, Bobby grunted with satisfaction at how the blood squirted on his face and how her tendons tore and it was ecstasy. His mom began to scream in agony and struggle but Bobby had her pinned and he began to bite into her face. Wrenching flesh away from her skull biting into tender sweet flesh and it tasted good.
Good flesh so raw, so red, so sweet.
When Bobby had finished his horrible meal he stalked into the house, to crying little Andrew's room, dad wasn't around and he felt so hungry, little Andrew would have to do.
He walked down the hallway slowly, cannibal crib death, he thought. Cannibal crib death, for the great Wendigo, for Mammon, and the other lords of murder and hate, and for Enaser the fiend of killed infancy the one whose sickly sweet odor of blood filled the abortion clinics.
He entered Andrew's room, sweet little two-year-old Andrew, who was now crying for his dead "Mommy", and that he was cold.
Bobby lifted Andrew from his crib. "Hello baby Andrew, I am so hungry. Do you think you could help me out with that."
Bobby bit into Andrew's collarbone and ripped it out, laughing heartily over the infant's screams. Then he bit into his stomach chewing through the baby fat and began his feast.
It was so great, so wonderful beautiful and satisfying, and Bobby felt slightly less hungry as he dropped his what remained of his little brother's corpse into the crib and covered it up.
But he was still hungry, and his feet caught fire and burned his cool skin, and his teeth itched as they grew from his gums.
And then the hunger was back and all he could do was think about food.
And of great lord Enaser, who was happy with Andrew's soul cradled in his rotted arms.
And he need more. Out to the night out in the street. And he ran down the street, to the old Indians house first, pay the old bastard a visit. And his feet padded the pavement, but they went ahead of him superhumanly fast so fast he lifted in the air. Walking on the breeze and he moved so fast that the wind began to put sores on his body that froze over into a thin skin of bloody ice. And his feet moving so fast that they caught fire and began to burn his legs, and by the time he got to the old Indian's house his feet had burned to bloody stumps.
As he walked on the breeze to the old man's window, he grinned soon he would have the knowledge that the old man would die of what he obsessed over and then he could tell all the stories of monsters he wanted to his mom and Andrew in hell.