Read The Twilight of Lake Woebegotten for Free Online
Authors: Harrison Geillor
stick and spat on the ground. “Never had a wendigo apologize to me before,” Willy said. “Can’t say as I like it much.”
Stevie Ray rolled his eyes. “This wendigo stuff. We both know the Scullens and Scales aren’t wendigo—”
“Wendigos,” Willy interrupted. “The plural is wendigos, not wendigo, they’re not like deer or moose.”
“I thought it was Wendigeaux,” one of the elders said. “With an x. Like the French do it.”
“Wendigi, maybe, like octopi and cacti?” Stevie Ray said.
“Wendigos,” Willy Noir said, unperturbed.
“Well, all right,” Stevie Ray said. “The point is, they’re not wendigos. They’re… you know.” He put his hands to the corners of his mouth and made fangs of his index fingers.
Willy shrugged. “Our legends don’t really have those , but we have wendigos. I don’t think it’s a bad description. Wendigos used to be human, and then became something else, something immortal. They eat human flesh. The details are a little different, maybe, okay, but do your—” Here he imitated Stevie Ray’s fang gesture “—do they fear sunlight, or garlic, or crucifixes, or holy water, or have obsessive compulsive disorder? They don’t exactly fit the stories perfectly, either, do they?”
Stevie Ray shrugged. “No, I guess not. But in the legends there are all different kinds of—”
Willy interrupted. “And maybe one kind is a wendigo. My people—especially people like me ,” he said meaningfully, “are sworn to protect the world from the wendigos. And the world needs protecting from the Scullens and the Scales, so I say they’re wendigos.” He wiped his mouth. “And yes, one of them was on our land, though I think he strayed over by accident in the midst of blood lust during pursuit of a deer. He ran right off our land again, and killed whatever prey he was chasing outside the limits of the rez, but trespass is trespass. I’m willing to concede it was an accident. No doubt about whether he was here or not, though. I can smell him.”
“That’s not so difficult,” Stevie Ray said, “assuming he was out on a sunny day.”
One of the other elders snorted, and Willy cracked a smile. “You’re not so bad, Stevie Ray. Why do you play Renfield for those things?”
“Let’s just say I have some philosophical interest in avoiding an all-out race war,” Stevie Ray said blandly. “Between you… hairy folks… and the ones you want to call wendigos.” Also because the Scullens pay me a lot . “Besides, I don’t work for them, I work for both of you, as a liaison. Did you have a message to take back to the Scullens?”
“Just this. If it happens again, and one of the boys comes onto our land? Don’t expect them to come back.”
Stevie Ray sighed. “I’ve seen those boys play hockey, Willy. They play rough. Could be one of them against you three wouldn’t be a fair fight. Could be it might be a little dangerous.”
“Could we fight a wendigo as we are now? No. But you know… we’re not too hairy right now. We can get hairier. And one of the things that makes it easy to get all hairy—that makes it hard to not get all hairy—is having unnatural flesh-eating animated dead things on our land. Besides… what makes you think there aren’t any young people in Pres du Lac who’ve inherited our gift?”
“Okay, okay.” Stevie Ray held up his hands. “I’ll pass on the message, least I can do, I was just saying, that’s all. But, you know, for flesh-eating dead things, they aren’t so bad. They’ve found, ah, non-human sources of nourishment. And they brought a lot of money to the economy. Dr. Scullen has a way of forgetting to send the people he treats bills, too. I mean, their kind may be known for drinking blood and treating humans as playthings, but heck, some people think my kind are all good at playing basketball, and some people think your kind are in touch with the spirits of ancient wisdom or else that you’re all drunks, so
Stevie Ray rolled his eyes. “This wendigo stuff. We both know the Scullens and Scales aren’t wendigo—”
“Wendigos,” Willy interrupted. “The plural is wendigos, not wendigo, they’re not like deer or moose.”
“I thought it was Wendigeaux,” one of the elders said. “With an x. Like the French do it.”
“Wendigi, maybe, like octopi and cacti?” Stevie Ray said.
“Wendigos,” Willy Noir said, unperturbed.
“Well, all right,” Stevie Ray said. “The point is, they’re not wendigos. They’re… you know.” He put his hands to the corners of his mouth and made fangs of his index fingers.
Willy shrugged. “Our legends don’t really have those , but we have wendigos. I don’t think it’s a bad description. Wendigos used to be human, and then became something else, something immortal. They eat human flesh. The details are a little different, maybe, okay, but do your—” Here he imitated Stevie Ray’s fang gesture “—do they fear sunlight, or garlic, or crucifixes, or holy water, or have obsessive compulsive disorder? They don’t exactly fit the stories perfectly, either, do they?”
Stevie Ray shrugged. “No, I guess not. But in the legends there are all different kinds of—”
Willy interrupted. “And maybe one kind is a wendigo. My people—especially people like me ,” he said meaningfully, “are sworn to protect the world from the wendigos. And the world needs protecting from the Scullens and the Scales, so I say they’re wendigos.” He wiped his mouth. “And yes, one of them was on our land, though I think he strayed over by accident in the midst of blood lust during pursuit of a deer. He ran right off our land again, and killed whatever prey he was chasing outside the limits of the rez, but trespass is trespass. I’m willing to concede it was an accident. No doubt about whether he was here or not, though. I can smell him.”
“That’s not so difficult,” Stevie Ray said, “assuming he was out on a sunny day.”
One of the other elders snorted, and Willy cracked a smile. “You’re not so bad, Stevie Ray. Why do you play Renfield for those things?”
“Let’s just say I have some philosophical interest in avoiding an all-out race war,” Stevie Ray said blandly. “Between you… hairy folks… and the ones you want to call wendigos.” Also because the Scullens pay me a lot . “Besides, I don’t work for them, I work for both of you, as a liaison. Did you have a message to take back to the Scullens?”
“Just this. If it happens again, and one of the boys comes onto our land? Don’t expect them to come back.”
Stevie Ray sighed. “I’ve seen those boys play hockey, Willy. They play rough. Could be one of them against you three wouldn’t be a fair fight. Could be it might be a little dangerous.”
“Could we fight a wendigo as we are now? No. But you know… we’re not too hairy right now. We can get hairier. And one of the things that makes it easy to get all hairy—that makes it hard to not get all hairy—is having unnatural flesh-eating animated dead things on our land. Besides… what makes you think there aren’t any young people in Pres du Lac who’ve inherited our gift?”
“Okay, okay.” Stevie Ray held up his hands. “I’ll pass on the message, least I can do, I was just saying, that’s all. But, you know, for flesh-eating dead things, they aren’t so bad. They’ve found, ah, non-human sources of nourishment. And they brought a lot of money to the economy. Dr. Scullen has a way of forgetting to send the people he treats bills, too. I mean, their kind may be known for drinking blood and treating humans as playthings, but heck, some people think my kind are all good at playing basketball, and some people think your kind are in touch with the spirits of ancient wisdom or else that you’re all drunks, so