The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wendigo, by Algernon Blackwood This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions. Algernon Blackwood’s classic tale, The Wendigo. An influential novella by one of the most best-known writers of fantasy and horror, set in a place and time. The Wendigo. Algernon BLACKWOOD ( – ). Another camper tale, this time set in the Canadian wilderness. A hunting party separates.

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For the “Defago” who sat huddled by the big fire, wrapped in blankets, drinking hot whisky and holding food in wasted hands, was no more like the guide they had last seen alive than the picture of a man of sixty is like a daguerreotype of his early youth in the costume of another generation. And instinctively the thought stirred in him: He went stealthily, trying to hide where possible, and making as little sound as he could. No sound but their voices and the soft roar of the flames made itself heard.

Cathcart, seeing that further conversation was impossible, followed his nephew’s example and moved off to the tent, leaving the three men smoking over the now blazing fire.

They were big, round, ample, and with no pointed outline as of sharp hoofs. As much as I admire Blackwiod, his writing is dense and verbose. Then, before the doctor had time to do more, or Simpson time to even think a question, much less ask it, Defago was standing upright in front of them, balancing with pain and difficulty, and upon his shapeless and twisted visage an expression so dark and so malicious that it was, in the true sense, monstrous.


He would know tomorrow. Both face and voice suggested some such abominable resemblance. Did it come, he wondered, from the lake, or from the woods? Beneath the eyes there were faint indications of recent bleeding. I have read his biography on Wikipedia. Withoutabox Submit to Film Festivals. And now–that is, unless you kin save me an’ prevent–it’s ’bout time for–” Blackwiod piteous and beseeching voice blacksood interrupted by a sound that was like the roar of wind coming across the lake.

Amazon Music Stream millions of songs. This site uses cookies. Perfect story to read around a campfire on a cold winter night. In some ways it was more terribly moving than anything they had yet seen–that idiot smile as he drew wads of coarse moss from his swollen cheeks and told them that he was “a damned moss-eater”; the continued vomiting of even the simplest food; and, worst of all, the piteous and childish voice of complaint in which he told them that his feet pained him–“burn like fire”–which was natural enough when Dr.

The events, not wholly inexplicable or incredible in themselves, yet remain for the man who saw and heard them a sequence of separate facts of cold horror, because the little piece that might have made the puzzle clear lay concealed or overlooked.

The same line gets repeated several times over, which is what reminded me of a campfire tale–that there is a sort of repetitive motif that ties the thing together.

The cold air pricked. A force that could assume your very form and masquerade as you to your companions–perhaps waiting for its chance to snap them up too.

The Wendigo (novella) – Wikipedia

Presently he put his arm almost tenderly upon his comrade’s shoulder, and they moved off together into the shadows where their tent stood faintly glimmering.

It was gone before he could properly seize or name it.

The remainder of the affair, indeed, was witnessed by him from behind the canvas, his white and terrified face peeping through the crack of the tent door flap. That ain’t him at all, but some–devil that’s shunted into his place! View all 4 comments.


Full text of “The Wendigo”

Defago, he declared, had barely mentioned the beast. A hunting party separates to track moose, and one member is abducted by the Wendigo of legend. The Foundation’s principal office is located at Melan Dr. They would follow the blazed marks on the trees, and where possible, his footsteps. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.

Both tracks, he saw, had undergone a change, and this change, so far as it concerned the footsteps of the man, was in some undecipherable manner–appalling. But the explanation, in that it was only a part of the truth, was a lie, and he knew perfectly well that Simpson was not deceived by it.

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It was ten o’clock–a late hour for hunters to be bllackwood awake. They may start to go crazy, and think blackwoid see things, which cannot be real.

Seems this tale was inspired by author’s experience of hunting in backwoods Canada. The Canadian came closer in the darkness. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official page at http: The author can create a good, which in this case means uncomfortable, atmosphere with fairly simple means.

Dec 24, Althea Ann rated it liked it. The Bush in capital letter!