The Weendigo was the most terrifying creature known to the Anishinaabe people. There was the book by Algemon Blackwood in 1910 that told of the creature. There is a phychosis in the mental health field know as the ''Weendigo Psychois.''  Discribed as the insatiable need for human flesh.  Now that your getting a little jumpy, it's dark outside a known time for the Weendigo to appear.  Relax, sit back and I'll tell you a little about the most ''Terrifying Creature'' known to all the Anishinaabe people.  This includes all you folks that live in a cold climate, the hunting ground for the Weendigo.  Happy to munch on Ojibwe people or the hapless non-Native that crosses it's path. No one is safe.

Nothing was more terrifying than the Weendigo. It was a creature loathsome to behold and as loathsome in it habits, conduct and manners.

The Weendigo was a giant manitou (spirit) in the form of a man or woman (OK ladies pay attention) who towered five to eight times above the height of a tall man.  The Weendigo was afflicted with never-ending hunger and could never get enough to eat, it was always on the point of emaciation, it desiccated skin pulled tautly over it's bones.  With it's bones pushing out against its skin, its complexion the ash gray of death, and it eyes pushed back deep into their sockets, the Weendigo looked like a gaunt skeleton recently disintered from the grave. Dirty, the Weendigo gave off a strange and eerie odor of decay and decomposition, of death and corruption. (you may now turn on all the lights in the house, if you dare go into a dark room, who knows what awaits you.)

When the Weendigo was set to attack a human being, a dark cloud would shroud its upper body from the waist up.  The air would turn cold, so the trees crackled.  Then a wind would rise, no more than a breath at first, but in momens whining and driving, transformed into a blizzard.  Behind the odor and chill of death and the killing blizzard came the Weendigo. (now would be a good time to turn up the heat.)

Even before the Weendigo laid its bloody hands on them, many people died of fright.  The face of the Weendigo with it's peeling skin and bloody lips could induce heart failure.  For others it was the monster's shriek that was more then they could bear.

Those that died of fright were the lucky ones.  Those that had the misfortune to live through their terror, death was slow and agonizing. (covering your head with a blanket is probably a good idea right now.)

The Weendigo seized its victim and tore him or her limb from limb with it's hands and teeth, eating the flesh and bones and drinking the blood while its victim screamed and struggled.  The pain of other meant nothing to the Weendigo; all that mattered was it's survival. (time to go to the frig for a snack folks.)

The Weendigo gorged itself as if it would never eat again.  But a remarkable thing always happened.  As the Weendigo ate, it grew, and as it grew so did its hunger, so that no matter how much it ate, its hunger always remained in proportion to its size.  The Weendigo could never stop unnatural lust for human flesh or it unnatural appetite.  For the unfortunate Weendigo, the more it ate, the bigger it grew; and the bigger it grew, the more it wanted and needed. (where is weight watchers when you need them.)

The Weendigo inspired fear.  There was no human punishment to compare to death at the hands of the Weendigo, no threats more certain to bring about the exercise of moderation.  (put away the chips and beer)

As long as men and women put the well-being of their families and communities ahead of their own self-interest and men and women lived in moderation, the Weendigo would starve and die out.

But such is not the case.  Human beings are just a little too inclined to self-indulgence.  At the root is selfishness, regarded by the Anishinaabe people as the worst human shortcoming.

There you have it my friends, a short version of the Weendigo in all it horror.  This of course isn't a good bed-time story for the kiddies.  In fact it's not a good bed time story for adults.

Don't venture out tonight. If you must, watch for the Weendigo, when you see it, it's to late, you are it's victim.