Chapter 15.1

Sara marked her place in the journal, downed the rest of her coffee, and stood to make a fresh cup. The squeak of her chair on the floor was met with a snort outside the door. Sara started laughing at the buck who had become the self-appointed guardian of the cabin door.

“I hear you, Ted, I hear you,” Sara called out to the deer. “I am not supposed to feed you, so quit asking. And don’t you have deer things to be doing, like finding a nice dry place to sleep tonight?”

Another snort and the grating of antlers on the door was the response. 

“You are so weird,” Sara muttered barely above a whisper.

After dipping a cup of hot water from the pot on her camp stove, Sara went back to the table, sat, and looked at her cup. She had thought she wanted coffee, but now she wanted something different. Sara began to dig in her backpack until she found one of the instant cocoa packets. Chocolate was just what she needed.

Sara sat absently stirring her cup as she thought about everything that had happened since she had decided to take her disastrous hiking trip. First, her husband had a work emergency and was not able to go with her. That was followed by what started out as a beautiful excursion and which quickly went downhill when the rain started. Ted, the white-tailed deer, rammed her, knocking her down the embankment, leading to her sustaining what were fortunately minor injuries and the discovery of the cabin. Finally, all of that was topped by her taking shelter in the ancient dwelling and finding the journal of the man who had built it. It was beyond anything she could have possibly imagined when she had scheduled the time off from work.

Sara shook her head as she looked at the journal on the table in front of her. Being in the cabin would be much worse if she had not found that book. At least the journal gave her something to do and made her feel connected to the men who had lived there decades earlier. She picked up the book and continued to read.

December 24, 1879

It is Christmas Eve, and I have never felt so alone. I woke up to utter silence. This cabin has never felt more like a tomb than when I was lying in bed in the pre-dawn stillness.

Jim came to me in my sleep again. He looked like himself this time. He was also very insistent that I keep eating his flesh so I can bury him as I promised. I will never be able to put into words how much it hurts me to desecrate him in that way. The worst part is, I know I must continue to do it until I can get us out of this cabin.

I am cooking a piece of flesh now. After I eat, I will go back to the firewood outside the cabin and work on getting us out of this situation. I feel like I am the reason we are here now, and I have to be the one to get us out.

I have not bothered to open the door yet and see what has happened to the work I did yesterday. With the profound quiet, either the wind was still, and everything is as I left it, or the wind and snow came again last night while I slept, and we are altogether buried once more. I will find out after I eat breakfast.

December 24, 1879

Second entry. It looks like the weather was in my favor for a change. The snow I cleared was just the way I left it yesterday. Through the opening at the top of the snowdrift, I can see a bright blue sky. 

It might be me, but it feels a little warmer today than it has been. I hope that it is and that it continues to get warmer. I know it is December and the chances of the weather being warm enough to melt the snow are slim to none. I can still hope for a warm wind or rain to melt at least some of the snow.

Now that I have rested a little, I am going to get back to digging snow. I need to pack it around Jim to keep him as cold as possible. It would be easier to do if I didn’t have to keep the fire so hot because of how deep the snow is and those things stalking about at night.

December 24, 1879

Third entry. I stopped to have lunch and rest for a while. My busted shoulder is hurting something fierce, and so are my joints. I am drinking a big cup of the willow bark tea, and I will have to wait for it to work before I can start again.

I cooked enough flesh and fry bread this morning that I have some left now for lunch. The spices help the taste more than I can say. It makes it far less distasteful until I think of what it is. I do my best to avoid that if I can, but those thoughts creep in no matter what I do.

Something strange happened this morning after I ate. I felt as if I had not eaten anything. I had even eaten more than I have been because of the work I need to do. I have been absolutely famished all day. I am hoping that will subside after I have lunch. If it doesn’t, I might need to force myself to eat more. I might feel that way because I am moving more and working harder than I have been. I hope that is why.

December 24, 1879

Fourth entry. I had to quit working for the day. My shoulder just won’t let me keep going today. Why does it never seem to fail? The weather finally cooperates, and my body won’t. Times like this make me remember how old I am and that I am no longer a young man.

I had another cup of willow tea and a bit of fry bread to eat. I hope that will help with the pain. I need sleep, and I will not get any unless this pain eases. 

December 24, 1879

Fifth entry. Jim woke me up. He once again came to me in my dreams. He was his usual self, hounding me about needing to eat and take care of myself. That lasted quite a while. We talked and joked like we always did. Then he changed.

I watched as his skin became gray and pulled tight across his bones. His lips were ragged and drawn against his teeth. He looked as if he had lost all of his muscle. He was nearly a skeleton with skin on it.

It was not only his appearance that changed. He was no longer my brother. He said vile and nasty things to me and began to moan and shriek in ways that no human can. I don’t want to think about why I am having these dreams. I only wish they would stop. I enjoy Jim coming to me in my sleep, but not the monster he becomes or the one who pretends to be him. 

December 25, 1879

It is Christmas Day. This used to be one of my favorite days. Now it is just empty and lonely. No matter how hot I make the fire today, I still feel cold, as if my bones are made of ice. Perhaps that is the isolation and loneliness reaching my soul. 

Sarah, my love, you were the reason I loved Christmas so much. The way your face would light up at the sight of decorations and when I would give you your gifts. You were always happy, even in lean times when I could only give you one little gift that I made because we had no money. You never complained. You knew that it always came from a place of love.

I remember our last Christmas together. You were carrying our sweet Timothy. I had never seen you so beautiful. I had bought you those two dresses. One that you could wear then, and one for after you delivered our precious baby boy. You had to stop what we were doing and put on that new dress right then. I remember how your eyes shined when you wore that color of blue. They were like two sapphires. I think that was the last time I was truly happy. It was only a short few weeks later when I lost you both.

My shoulder feels a little better today, so it will be another workday for me with no celebration, which agrees with me. I have nothing to celebrate. I know I am supposed to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ on this day. That seems pointless to me. I don’t feel much like celebrating someone who abandoned me many years ago. This year, even more so.

I need to eat and have more willow bark tea before I start on the snow. I am trying to make my flour last, so I will only make a little fry bread for each meal and eat more flesh. The thought is repulsive, but there is no choice. To keep my promise, I have to.

December 25, 1879

Second entry. I ate, and I still feel hungry. Even while I was eating, I felt more ravenous with every bite I took. Maybe this is my punishment for not celebrating Christmas today. Perhaps Jim was right when he talked about the wendigo. 

Sarah, my love, what Jim told me about the wendigo I was able to disregard, but now I question if he was telling me the truth. I was not sure I wanted to recount what he told me. Now, I am sure that I need to tell what he said.

Jim said that the wendigo is an evil spirit that takes over a person when they eat human flesh. He told me that when it takes hold of you, you change. You crave the flesh more with each bite you take. You are never satiated, no matter how much you consume. As you keep eating, you grow in size yet become thin and emaciated, gluttonous yet ravenous. Your skin becomes pale and ashen, then gray. You become inhuman over time as the wendigo fully takes hold of you.

Sarah, I had not thought much about it when Jim had told me that story, but now I do. What if he was telling the truth, and that is my destiny now? What if I am to become a monster? Yet Jim comes to me in my dreams and tells me to not worry about that. Do I trust him now? I have always trusted him, and he has taken care of me since the day we met. I am so confused.

I am exhausted. The pain I have is keeping me from resting even when I sleep. Maybe I should not work today. Sleeping today might be the best idea for me. If I take a break for the day, hopefully, I will feel better tomorrow.

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