One of the most terrifying legends to come out of the Algonquian tribes of northeastern North America is about a creature called the Wendigo.
The Wendigo is a spirit that haunts the deep woods, lying in wait for unwary travelers. When it takes corporeal form it's humanoid, skinny and bony, and its approach is heralded by a sharp drop in temperature and a foul smell. The Wendigo uses humans as food -- cannibalism is one characteristic the legends always mention -- but it's never sated, and is always looking for new victims to consume.
This myth is found across the region. The English name comes from the Ojibwe word wiindigoo, but most of the Algonquian tribes have some version of it. Ojibwe scholar Basil Johnston, in his book The Manitous, gives the following rather ghastly description of the Wendigo:
The Wendigo was gaunt to the point of emaciation, its desiccated skin pulled tightly 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 Wendigo looked like a gaunt skeleton recently disinterred from the grave. What lips it had were tattered and bloody... Unclean and suffering from suppuration of the flesh, the Wendigo gave off a strange and eerie odor of decay and decomposition, of death and corruption.For me, though, the most spine-chilling thing about the legend is what you're supposed to do if you see it before it sees you. (If it sees you first, apparently you're pretty much fucked sideways.) You're supposed to turn around and walk -- not run -- away. It can only get you if your gazes meet, so if you turn your back on it and act like it's not there, you have a chance. The Wendigo will then call your name in an appealing voice, trying to get you to turn around, but you have to just keep walking until you reach safety.
For me, I think the "don't run" part would be the hardest. If I saw something like this, my legs would look like those comical Looney Tunes characters who are running so fast the lower half of their body turns into this elliptical blur. I might not even stop when I reach safety. I might keep running long enough to end up in Mozambique. (Yes, I know that Mozambique is across the ocean from where I live. The Looney Tunes characters never let a body of water stop them, and neither would I.)
As you might imagine, the legend is creepy enough that it's appeared in many works of fiction, starting with Algernon Blackwood's 1910 short story "The Wendigo." H. P. Lovecraft and August Derleth, in their Cthulhu Mythos stories, incorporated many of the characteristics of the creature into their "Great Old One" named Ithaqua the Wind Walker. I even gave a crack at it; my novella "The Conduit" (currently out of print) featured a spirit based on the Wendigo, but I used the cannibalism thing metaphorically; in my story the Wendigo didn't eat its victims' bodies, but instead possessed them and consumed pieces of their personality -- so that when it went on to a new host it retained the knowledge and abilities of the people it had previously inhabited.
What's most interesting about this legend is how many people think it's true. If it weren't real, the argument goes, there's no way it would have become so widespread in the Indigenous tribes of the northeast. There was a spirited discussion over at Quora a while back over whether the Wendigo actually exists, with the consensus being "Yes, of course it does." If you do a Google search for "Wendigo legend true" or "Wendigo real" you'll get literally thousands of hits, including ones from people who claim to have narrowly escaped getting eaten by it.
Needless to say, I'm highly dubious. Not only do we have our old friend "the plural of anecdote is not data" here, we've also got the problem that science (i.e. determining what is real and what is not) does not proceed by popular vote, so saying something is widely believed has no impact on its truth or falsity. Take, for example, religion. To make at least a passing attempt to stay off the thin ice I usually skate on, pick a religion that you don't happen to believe. Let's say Greek mythology, for instance. (My apologies to anyone who is a Poseidon worshiper -- please don't come at me with a trident, I'm just trying to make a point, here.) Back in the heyday of ancient Greece, damn near everyone venerated the various gods and sub-gods and spirits and whatnot; you'd have gotten close to one hundred percent agreement that of course Zeus was up there hurling lightning bolts whenever there was a thunderstorm.
"Lots of people think so" is simply not a reliable guide to the truth.
As always, what we need is hard evidence, and in the case of the Wendigo (not to mention Poseidon, Zeus, et al.) there isn't any. As one of the lone voices of reason on Quora put it, "Yes, the Wendigo exists. In the imagination. Otherwise, no."
But that doesn't make the story any less scary. And next time I go out for a trail run in our local National Forest, if I hear a soft, beckoning voice call out "Gordon...." from behind me, I am not turning around. Maybe it'll be some friend of mine back there trying to get my attention, but that's just too bad.
If they really want to talk to me, they can text me or something. I doubt the Wendigo has a phone, so at least that'd be safe enough.
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