Wendigo Drawing Novels & Stories

She held a wrinkled sheet of paper behind her back. Miss Pei followed a step behind, hands on her hips. “She insisted. Said she needed to show you something before ‘the bad guys stole her time.’” Liora crouched and opened her arms. Wren barreled into her, nearly knocking them both over. Liora held her tight. The scent of charcoal crayon clung to Wren’s hair. It grounded her like nothing else. “What is it, sweetheart?” she whispered. Wren pulled out the drawing and presented it proudly. “I made you.”

But her drawing was so abstract that it took me a long time to distinguish what looked like a human figure. "Hedwig, did you draw all these?" "Yes! Mommy, look! This is Leo that I drew. Does it look like him?" Hedwig immediately took out her proudest work and asked me. I could hardly hold back my laughter. "Don't laugh, mommy. Don't laugh at me! I worked so hard to draw it." Hedwig was devastated, and her face flushed with anxiety. I had to hold back my laughter and said seriously, "Baby, these are great drawings. You can show them to Leo in a while and explain the meaning of your drawings to him."

Holding the weapon out in front of himself, he began to move forward. "Stay behind me." He ordered as I began to move. As we moved, I took in the remnants of small animals that scattered the ground while images of those creepy scarecrow-looking things began to appear in my mind. "This is fresh." Elias murmured, stepping over a dead rabbit that was still spilling blood. "Looks like a wendigo." "Wendigo..." I repeated as the terrifying skeletal creature flashed into my mind. "Is there anyway to avoid them?" "No, unfortunately, they're excellent at camoflauge."

She was somewhere around seven or eight, completely absorbed in whatever she was drawing, her tongue pressed to the corner of her mouth in concentration. I lowered myself carefully into a chair near her, mindful of my ribs, and looked at the paper. The drawing was full. Not in a crowded way, in a deliberate way, like she had a clear picture in her head and was working her way across the page with intention. There was a dragon in the top left, red and blocky with impressive teeth. Below it, a woman in a red cape with a pointed hat on a flying broom, carefully coloured with a orange crayon. To the right of that, something with fangs and a dark cape that I was fairly certain was meant to be a v

she says, and I freeze. She doesn’t notice the way the word pierces me. She says it so casually, like it already is, like I already am. “Thanks, kid,” I manage. “You did all the hard work though.” We spend the next half hour taking photos of her latest crayon masterpieces. Wendy poses next to each drawing like it is a gallery showcase, complete with hand motions and exaggerated descriptions. “This one is a tiger, but he’s also a prince. See the crown? But it’s made of leaves because he’s a forest king.”

"The what?" Aiden proudly lifted the parchment, presenting it with a triumphant flourish. It was a masterpiece of terrible stick figures. There was a tall, blocky man with a jagged golden crown, a woman wearing an oversized silver tiara, a small blob representing a little boy, a giant black dog with six legs, a glowing stick figure surrounded by yellow loops, and a final girl drawn with aggressively angry V-shaped eyebrows. Kael let out a long, dry sigh. "Let me guess. The one with the furious eyebrows is your long-lost aunt?"

“Did you think I’ll let you fill your belly with my daughter? Beauden jumps up and shifts into Klondike looking at Fletcher shifts into a large alien-like canine beast. The beast growls at Wisdom and looks around the room. Klondike growls looking at the creature Einar throws on the floor. The beast growls at Klondike then his attention goes to Wisdom when she releases his head that’s on fire. The canine beast falls to the floor screaming and hitting his head trying to put the fire out. “That’s not going to help. Wendigo is what this monster is.” Wisdom looking at Lonergan, Carmine, and Ossian. They're looking at her confused.

The first pages contained ordinary drawings. Faith. The house. The old fig tree. Then... His expression changed. Bethwel leaned closer. "What is it?" Alex turned the book around. Glen had drawn the northern woods. A square hatch. Six stick figures. One had a hat. Another had unusually large boots. Each figure carried a different symbol instead of a face. Joel smiled. "Children draw differently." Alex nodded. "No." "He wasn't drawing faces." "He was classifying them." He pointed at the figure with the hat.

Giving myself no time to think, I raised the dagger above my head and charged at the creature. Azrael’s eyes widened as they locked on me. The Wendigo turned my way, and just as I shoved the dagger into its chest, it slashed with its massive claw. Its arm slammed into my midsection, sending me flying backwards. A different sort of roar exploded from Azrael’s chest.

Several unfinished painting concepts filled the display. One sketch showed the outline of a mountain surrounded by ancient trees beneath a full moon. Another featured two wolves standing along a cliff overlooking their territory. Neither design felt complete. I opened a new blank canvas. Using the earlier sketches as references, I began drawing fresh lines across the screen. The first design focused on a sacred werewolf gathering beneath the full moon, where silver light reflected across a quiet lake. I carefully adjusted the trees surrounding the clearing before changing the position of the moon so the light would fall naturally over the wolves in the sketch.