I guess this all started when I was making myself some pasta. I live in a merry little house deep in the woods in Indiana. This makes me pretty isolated, which honestly isnt really a bad thing. No Jehovah’s witnesses. No door-to-door salesmen. Its a peaceful little place. The nearest house, or any sign of civilazation really, is several miles away. My house is near this little abandoned dirt road that goes into the city about 10 miles away, which is sort of a long way to go if you need help or anything. I love being surrounded by nature. Just woods for miles and miles.
Behind my house is a big field enclosed by a fence, which is where I keep my horse.She is a big, sturdy old draft horse that is’nt fazed by anything.Her name is Andromeda, and she is the calmest, bravest horse I have ever known. You could fire a cannon five feet away from her and she wouldnt flinch. She is absolutely pitch-black with tiny little white dots all over her back like the constellation, which gave her her name. I love to gallop bareback through the forest with her. We have encountered mountain lions, bobcats, and even a few black bears, and she hasnt bolted once.
Anyway, on to the story.
It was the middle of winter, and as any resident of Indiana can tell you, it snows. A lot. Andromeda has a little barn on one side of the field, which is always open and filled with hay. It’s been there for over seventy years, half of it has already fallen down. It still has a roof though, and that is where Andromeda was when this happened.
I was in the kitchen making pasta for myself. I had the water on the stove, with the pasta sitting nearby. It was very late, around [9:30]. The water was close to boiling, so I was holding the pot by the handle and getting ready to add the spaghetti, when something caught my eye. I have a big sliding glass door in my kitchen that leads outside to Andromeda’s field, so that way I can check on her.
She was in her barn still, but neighing and shying away from something. In the seven years I have had her, I have never seen her do that. Not even grizzlies scared her. But something was definitely off. She was rearing up on her hind legs, snorting and stamping at…something. Then I saw it.
There was a large shape in the snow, creeping toward her. Mind you, the snow was up to Andromeda’s ankles ,so this thing was sort of swimming on top of the snow, toward her. She couldn’t get out of the barn for fear of slipping. The shape resembled something like a very large, but emaciated, malnutritioned wolf. But it’s movements were not like that of a wolf. It’s legs were far too long, as was the snout. And there was something on its head that looked suspiciously like…antlers? No. I must be imagining this. Wolves don’t have antlers.
The thing cleared the snow and was now under the roof of the barn. Andromeda was now in defense mode, rearing up to show her sharp hooves. I realized how big this thing was, it must have been eight feet long. A predator that big could easily take down a horse. That thought infuriated me. I was not going to let this thing kill Andromeda. She was my only companion out in the woods. Then I heard a high pitched whinny from her. I looked again, and she was now limping as far away from this thing as she could. There was a gash across her back. It didn’t look too serious, but I was now filled with an enexplicable rage.
I grabbed my snowshoes and my antique Japanese katana, which is like a big samurai sword for those who don’t know. I walked out side, and immediately forgot how crunchy snow can be. This thing heard me and faced me. I froze. Then I remembered, I could take down this starving wolf with a sword. That’s when it stood up. On its hind legs.
This….thing was tall. Very tall. It must have been at least ten feet from head to toe, because it towered over me. This was no wolf. It was…a deer? Well, it’s head was anyway. A deer’s head. And I was not mistaken about the antlers. This things antlers were so huge, it must have been a sixteen-pointer. But it’s face was wrong. It looked diseased, as though it had been dead for a while in the forest floor. It’s eyes were horrifying. One was simply a mass of scarred black tissue. The other was sharp and smart. Its body was humanoid, but the legs bended like a deer’s. Its arms were human like, only they were extremely long and terribly thin, and the hands reached almost to the knees, fingers tipped with sharp claws. Some were bloody. It was covered in a thin layer of fur. I sensed intelligence in this strange animal, but I was no less terrified. It raised its head, and let out a sound half way between a scream and a growl. It chilled me to my very core. My knees wobbled, and I almost dropped the katana. Then it charged. Straight at me.
Luckily, the snow was deep. It wasn’t very fast, but this didn’t deter it. It pounced from twenty feet away. I dove to the side, and cut my sword along the muscled part of its back leg. It shrieked again, this time in pain. It bounded away into the woods, leaving a trail of scarlet snow behind it.
Both Andromeda and I were extremely shaken. We were both attacked by some sort of horrible decaying creature. But she was hurt. I came over to look at the wound, and she nuzzled me for comfort. The cut was not too deep. She would be able to walk and run. I dug a path through the snow. Then I led her back to my house and put her in the garage, where I cleaned and stitched the wound. I put a bandage on her, gave her some apples, and she seemed all right.
I tried calling the police. And of course, there was no service where I live. Only one thing to do. Go into the city.
I started my car, but in a horror movie cliche, two tires were flat. I had to get to the city, though, which meant Andromeda was the only way to get there. We would have to go bareback, because her saddle was in the barn and there was no way I was going back there.
It would be a 30 minute journey on horseback through thick Indiana woods, but I was out of ideas at this point. Luckily, Andromeda’ bridle and Reins where in the cleaning area downstairs, so I put that on her. I grabbed my katana and a flashlight, and we set off at a gallop. Apparently, some nice guy decided to plow the road which probably saved my life.
The first 10 minutes or so were calm and quiet. I figured it was safe to slow down to a trot to let Andromeda rest, which she was glad to do. We were still on the dirt road surrounded by forest, so I hefted my katana for protection. A few times, I thought I heard rustling in the bushes behind us. I looked, and there was nothing there. I dismissed it as a squirrel or maybe a chipmunk, but I was wrong. Very wrong.
Not even two minutes later, the creature that attacked us earlier exploded out of the brush in front of us in the middle of the road. It was crouched, ready to spring. But Andromeda was faster. Before it could move, she jumped clear over it and gave it a good kick to the head for good measure. It was dazed, but we wasted no time. We continued to gallop down the dirt road, leaving it behind in the dust. I thought we were in the clear, but of course I was wrong. We were still galloping down the road when I heard footsteps in the road behind us. The creature was still on our tail, and gaining. It was on all fours, moving in a way I can only describe as like the werewolf in the third Harry Potter movie. It was getting closer and closer, and was now trying to knock Andromeda’s feet out from under her with forward swipes of its front legs, like a cheetah trying to knock over a gazelle. I unsheathed my katana, (yes, I still had it with me. You can’t be too careful.)and cut another deep gash in the animal’s forearm, it screeched again, and fell backward into the night.
We got to the city, and told the police everything. They sent out a search crew, and found nothing. They gave me a ride home and towed a trailer with Andromeda in it back to my house. Andromeda slept in the garage that night. I didn’t sleep at all. I kept my newly bought shotgun and Winchester rifle close to my bed. I researched the beast, and what I believe it was was a wendigo. A wendigo is a Native American monster that is born in the driest places of the desert. It has a hunger for flesh that cannot be satisfied.
It’s been a year since then, and we got a proper barn for Andromeda. She is still as sturdy and strong as before, and the cut on her back healed completely.
The next time this thing tries to attack my horse or me, it will regret it very, very much. It will crawl back to the forest full of holes. Because next time, it won’t be coming back. Next time, I will be ready
I know most stories on this channel end with Let’s Not Meet, but to the Wendigo that night, I hope we meet again. Because this time, I’ll fucking kill you for attacking my horse.