A little something for Devil's Night, for Halloween, for All Hallow's Eve, an Injun storyteller's favorite legend to tell at this time of year.  The Windego.  Retold by me.  And pronounce like this:  Win-dee-goh.  It's a rather long story so you might want to get a cuppa hot cider, spiced or spiked, your choice, get comfortable where you sit, turn the lights down a little.  Set the mood.

After all, it's time for trick or treat......


                                                   .................................hahahahaha.



It's fresh in my memory, like it happened only yesterday, but in fact several years have passed since I survived that night with the Windego.  The Skin-Walker.  The 'fantastic monster' of the Anishinaabe, the Iroquois, the Algonquian, all the great Woodland Indian Nations.

I remember the night very well.  Who could forget a single second in the presence of such evil as the Windego brings?  That night, the moon and every star was hidden by a deep layer of clouds.  No light in its natural form culd be picked out of the darkness.  My only source of illumination was a small fire burning inside a ring of stones and if it hadn't been for the dancing flames I would not have been able to see my own hand in front of my face.

But, I did have the fire.  A crackling comfort on a cold October night in a small clearing among the northern hardwoods.

It was from my mother that I had first heard the stories of the Windego in their milder incarnations, suited for a younger child to hear.  Free from her own parental restraints, she had made sure that I, her youngest and last, was made aware of the inborn wickedness of humankind and how to defend against it.  According to legend, the Windego was an evil spirit that would penetrate a human being's best defenses and overtake their body, mind, and soul, forcing them to behave in a manner most foul.

"Beware of the Windego," my mother would caution me when I was about to do something foolish, "Do not let the Windego trick you into doing wrong, Wahbigwan.  Think for yourself."

"I will, Ma!" I'd reply, and I meant it with every fibre of my seven year old being.  I wasn't about to let any old Skin-Walker get ahold of me and make me do something stupid!

Tales of the Windego were from my youth however, and I had left them there as I got older, letting them fade away with the remnants of a Native American culture that I was encouraged to ignore.  But, in my early twenties I began an outreach into my mother's cultural heritage that would bring those stories back into my realm and I learned more about the Windego, that it was indeed believed to be a malevolent spirit capable of horrific acts.  So real were these stories told by the Indians, that the first settlers in the New World were convinced the Windego was an actual creature that lived in the vast forests beyond the colonies and they kept a watchful eye that they would not become it's victims.  In my own modern reality, I realized the scarier adult versions of the Windego story were merely cautionary tales, told to warn listeners against consuming human flesh in times of famine.  Or, so I thought.

The Windego was the farthest thing from my mind on that night as I sat before the flickering fire.  As was my habit, I would retreat to the woods for a few days when I felt myself losing my focus, my center.   This was my third night in the forest after an especially trying and emotionally draining time in my life.  Seeking solace, I had dedicated these days alone in the woods to rebuilding my core being and already I could feel myself pulling back together.  I was not at my strongest yet, but I would be soon.

It was near the end of October, the leaves were off the trees and carpeting the forest floor.  The air was still and dry and crisp.  The fire warmed me, but I still was bothered by an inner chill.  I had not eaten for five days.  I had stopped eating two days before my retreat into the woods and continued fasting while I healed.  Considering the time of year, perhaps I should have brought something more substantial than tap water, but I did not want to be weighed down by the responsibility of food, either by transporting or digesting.

I was hungry.  But, it wasn't anything I hadn't lived through before and I knew the hunger pangs would ebb after a short while.  And tomorrow, I would be feasting, because  I had already decided to head for home in the morning; recognizing that my inner peace was that close to being fully restored.  

Sitting cross legged on the ground in front of the fire, I pulled the stadium blanket around my shoulders tight and hunched forward, conserving what body heat I had and stared into the flames, contemplating, waiting for the fire to extinguish itself.

A few yards away, the faint rustle of dried leaves barely disturbed my concentrated thoughts.  Night noises in the forest were familiar to me and I recognized the sound as one made by a small nocturnal mammal, most likely a skunk.  I didn't pay it any attention.  Neither did I acknowledge the doe that passed by on the nearby trail that led to her lair in the brush.  The animals of the forest paid me no attentions either.  Meditations had blended me into their natural surroundings and I had become just another part of their world, as familiar to them as a shrub or a rock.  They could sense there was no threat from me.

The flames were dying and my head began to nod with sleepiness.  I was relaxed, at peace, the hunger had ceased its gnawing, and the end of my personal quest was near.

It was then that I heard the first scream.

Instantly, I was alert.  I had heard that particular scream only once before.  It came from a cat...a big cat; most likely a lynx.  An animal so shy, you were more likely to hear one than to see one and hearing one was more than enough.  The human like scream, sounding like a woman in agony, tortured and forsaken,  made your flesh crawl.  I shuddered.  And not because I was cold.  The scream had sounded quite close, near enough to make me stand up and take a few pokes at the fire with a stick to stir out the last of the flames.  I would spend the night in the cab of my truck, I decided. Even though I knew the big cat would not come anywhere near me and my fire, I felt the need to put something between me and the natural world.

The cat screamed again.  But this time, the nerve stretching sound was cut short; chopped off in an unnatural ending.  All my senses went on high alert and I stood very still, tuning in to what surrounded me.  The one or two embers left of the fire were not enough to aid my vision.  But, I could hear.  And I could smell.  And I could feel.

Something brushed past my right ear, moving the few tendrils of hair that had escaped from my braids.  I turned my head towards it, but could sense nothing.  There had been no sudden gust of night wind to disturb the dried leaves on the ground; yet something or someone had rushed past me so close and so quickly I could feel the breeze it left behind.

Again, something went swiftly past me, this time on my left, making my hair flutter.  I heard nothing, but this time, whatever it was, left behind an odor.  A foul, fetid stench that lingered in the still air and made me want to retch.  I took a step backwards in an attempt to get away from the smell, looking towards my left, but I saw nothing.  In the profound darkness that surrounded me it was impossible to make out any kind of a shape at all...if indeed there was anything there to see.  

Then, from behind the line of trees beyond my camp in the small clearing,  a frail, thin sound, the beginnings of an eerie wail, pierced the air, growing louder and louder, vibrating into an unearthly howl that filled every barren space between the trees.  

Quickly the sound surrounded me, whirling around, so that I could not tell from which direction it came anymore.  It was everywhere and ceaseless, confusing me, filling me with fright.  That was no cat.  No animal I knew made that sound.  No human, either.  It was like nothing I'd ever heard before.

Why the Windego came into my mind at that moment, I'll never know.  But, it did, and all the tales I'd heard from the old storytellers about the evil spirit tumbled into my head.  The Windego was tall...as tall as the trees it hides behind, and thin, its pale hide stretched tight over its bony frame, giving it the appearance of walking skin.  Eternally starved, the Windego could sustain no muscle or fat and had in fact chewed off its own lips to sate a ceaseless hunger.  The Windego was covered with sparse white hair, tangled and stinking with rotting particles of human flesh, remnants of a sloppy feast.  It's bottom jaw would drop open, revealing row upon row of sharp pointed teeth that could rip the meat from the bones and then crack the bones in half in order to suck out the marrow, it's desire to fill an empty, aching gullet driving all it's actions.

The Windego had eyes that glowed.

In the darkest night, in the deepest forest, the Windego's eyes would glow a pale red, like the full moon rising on an October night.

"Beware the Windego, Wahbigwan!"  My mother's voice urgently sounded in my head as though she were alive inside me.  The unearthly wail came again and I wasted no more time with the fire, but turned to run, fishing a penlight out of the front pocket of my jeans, needing it to find my way to the truck parked several hundred yards away.

But, I never made it to the truck.  And I had no further need of the penlight. Because, when I had turned to run, I found my path blocked, and two eyes, glowing the palest red, caught me in their illumination and held me paralized. 

My useless penlight dropped from my fingers as I found myself face to face with the Windego.

Those eyes, relentless in their stare, mesmerized me with their evilness, paralyzed me with terror.  At that moment I lost all my rational senses.  Everything had ceased being ordinary.  I was looking directly into the face of iniquity and when I had turned to run, I found myself in the middle of a world suddenly foreign to me.

A world I did not like.  Where minutes before I had been shivering with cold, I was now burning; an unnatural heat rolled in continuous waves towards me and along with it the putrid smell of rotting meat as the Windego's jaw dropped to reveal to me the rows of jagged teeth.  Again, the unearthly wail discharged from it's throat, the forceful wind of it causing the stray wisps of my hair to blow backwards.  In the time it took to blink an eye I had been brought into an unknown place.  My peaceful world had ceased to be and now my very soul was facing its own demise.  I did not own a defense for this.  I did not know how fight a spirit.  I had never challenged evil before.  How did one defy the Windego?

"Silver."

The word was whispered to me, spoken softly behind one ear.  "Silver kills," the voice whispered again and I had to believe it was the spirit of my mother who had come to guide me in this strange world.  I remembered now, learning from the storytellers that silver was the only substance that could defeat the Windego.  But, I had no silver arrow or blade to pierce its frozen heart.  Again the helplessness enveloped me.

"I have no silver, Ma!"  I cried, feeling desperate tears begin to gather behind my eyes, knowing I was about to die.

"The ring you wear, my daughter," my mother's spirit whispered next to my ear.  "The ring you wear is made of silver."

Of course!  The sterling silver ring I wore and seldom went without, given to me with love nearly forty years ago.  I did have silver!  But, it was just a ring, not a weapon.  I did not have the knowledge of how to use it in my defense.

"To defeat the Windego, the Windego must swallow the silver."  Again I heard the caressing whisper beside my ear.  "Do not let the Windego trick you, Wahbigwan!"  These last words were placed inside my head, deliberately put there by the manidoo of my mother.  

"No, Ma, I won't be tricked!"  I answered the voice in my head.

"It is you who must trick the Windego, my daughter."  My mother continued to whisper in my ear and I knew I must obey or else I would surely die.  And I did not want to die.  Not here in this unfamiliar place with the rolling heat and the fetid smell and the glowing eyes that held me powerless.  Not apart from my family, from my friends, from the people I hold so dear in my heart who would never hear my death song.  I did not want to die here.  I did not want to die alone.  

"How do I trick the Windego?"  I asked my mother's manidoo, my voice low so the Windego could not hear.

The jaw with its rows of fearsome teeth dropped even more as another demented wail came up from the depths of the evil spirit before me.

"Throw the silver ring into the gullet of the Windego while it wails in the night.  When the Windego swallows the ring, the Windego will die."

The fingers of my one hand went to touch the ring on the other, to removed it, and to obey the words whispered next to my ear.  But, the ring was more than just an ornament to me.  It was a talisman.  It was powerful medicine.  Every time my fingers would rub over the bumpy texture of the metal I would remember the one who had given it to me.  I would remember how strong she had been in the face of great pain.  How brave she had been in her fight against death.  How noble she had been right until the end of her walk on this Earth.  How strong her faith had been to know she would soon walk upon a new Earth.  To remove this ring and cast it into the gaping maw of the Windego seemed wrong somehow and went against all my instincts.  But, what other choice did I have?

I was fighting for my soul.  The Windego was the evilest of evils.  I knew what it would do to me.  It would overtake my mind; it would squeeze itself into my body and force my being to do its will.  To kill and to eat the flesh of my own kind, to devour every piece of sinew and bone of my human victim and then to lick the blood from my fingers.  And then, to kill again.  And again.  And again.  Until at last there would stand a single human being strong enough to remove the Windego's evilness residing inside me, to slay the fantastic monster by shattering it's heart of ice.  But at the same time the brave human destroyed the heart of the beast, it would destroy the living husk of my body, the only remnant of myself after the Windego had possessed me. I would be truly dead then.  My spirit lost, forsaken, homeless.  That would be my fate if I did not cast the silver ring away.

I did not want to die.

At that moment I realized that I would have to be that strong human being that defied the Windego.  It was up to me to save my own soul, my own self.  I had the silver and had been given the knowledge.  There was no one else nearby to protect my spirit.  I was on my own and determined to defend my soul.  The Windego would get no further than me tonight.  I would fight.

I pulled the ring off and clutched it in my hand.  I wanted to hold it just a moment longer before I cast it away.  To let the spirit of my mother, my first storyteller, press itself into my memory one last time.  It was then that I noticed that the gaping jaw of the Windego had ceased it's wailing and was now....grinning at me as though my dilemma was amusing in some way.  The lipless mouth, bloody and in shreds, curved upwards on either side in a sinister smile.

"Do not let the Windego trick you, Wahbigwan."  Inside my head each word dropped like a stone.  But, one word weighed more than the others.  

Wahbigwan.

This was the name my mother had called me when I was a child.  No one else called me this.  Only a handful of people even knew that this was the name given to me by my mother's people.  It was then that I realized that I was not the one about to trick the Windego by throwing my silver ring in the creature's direction, but it was the Windego who was about to trick me into throwing away the only thing that could protect me. By whispering lies against my ear, with what I had thought was my mother's voice,  the Skin-Walker had nearly fooled me.  I had nearly been left defenseless against its power, nearly been stripped of the protective silver ring, nearly been turned into it's next victim.

I slipped the silver ring back on my finger and the Windego howled as though in agony.  I had remembered the stories of honor and courage my mother had told me.  That ring of silver, given to me with love, had reminded me of the lessons I had learned from my mother.

Courage to do what was right instead of what was easy.  Courage to quietly accept a share of the work.  To be able to walk with honor among the honorable.  "Courage is what lifts honor high, Wahbigwan."  Many times my mother had siad this to me.  Had I not been reminded by the manidoo of my mother to have courage, I never would have been able to stand up to the Windego.  And, that night, stand up to it, I did.

As bravery filled me, the paralyzing terror left me, and I lifted my face to fix upon the evil spirit a stare of my own.  I was no longer afraid of its gruesome countenance.  Not even when the creature, with a renewed shriek peircing the night air,  thrust its head menacingly forward and I saw up close the cheek bones beneath the translucent pale skin  that was stretched so tightly over it's face, saw the glow of the eyes, felt the hot breath rolling from it's bloody, gaping mouth, smelled the putrid stench that enveloped us both.  I did not flinch,  I did not blink, but held up my hand, the one with the ring, placing it between the creature's face and my own.  The Windego abruptly pulled it's head back as though it had just been slapped, putting it's claw-like hands up in a defensive gesture.  The howling noise produced by the creature stopped and was replaced by a miserable, low moan.  

Could it be that easy?  I asked myself this, refusing to let my puzzlement show on my face.  Could it be that easy to make the Windego turn back?  Just to stand up to its abuses?  To its trickery?  To its intimidation?  Just to stand tall and resolute against the evil?  Was that all it took to push the Windego back?

I took a step forward with my arm still outstretched and the evil spirit responded accordingly, stepping backwards, stepping away from me and my silver ring.  I waved my hand back and forth in the Windego's face, taunting it, showing it that I knew how to protect myself from it's evil intent.

It's head thrashed from side to side, the loathsome bottom jaw slack and wagging, bloody saliva slinging off, the pitiful echo of a wail falling back into a gurgle inside it's throat.  The pale red eyes grew dull, fading, and with one last lamenting moan, the Windego evaporated into the trees, becoming a wispy silver mist momentarily hanging in the air before falling to the ground like a hard, gray rain, sucked into the earth beneath.  Soon, not even the rotting stench was left behind.

After a long moment, I dropped my arm to my side.  My true world had returned to me; I was once again in a familiar place,existing in a dark cold midnight.  A few embers of my fire sparked anew as a small breeze whirled through, freshening the air, blowing away the last traces of terror.   I put the last of the wood supply on the coals, building up the flames.  I was cold and hungry once again and I was happy to be that way.

And so, I survived that night, unclaimed by evil.

Now, when I tell this story, people will say to me, "Oh, you fell asleep and had a bad dream," and dismiss it with a sneer. But, I tell them, no, it was not a dream.  When I think of that night with the Windego,  I can remember the sound of its wailing in my ears, I can remember the smell of death in my nose, I can remember the pounding of my terroized heart.   I remember all these things as though they are happening in this exact moment even though they happened years ago.  And especially, I remember the eyes.  The glowing pale red eyes that contained no dark center, no window, no path to a soul.  I remember it all and it was too real to be a dream.

Did I actually defeat the Windego?  Did I kill it?  No. All I did that night was turn it away.  The Windego will walk this Earth as long as there is an earth to walk.  No one is safe.  No one is immune.  You cannot hide from evil.  It will always seek you out and take from you everything you allow it to take.  The best you can do to protect yourself is to be surrounded by a ring of silver courage.  It's the only defense we have.

Beware the Windego.