Robbie: Winter Wendigo (( a Robbie the Zombie au ))
Robbie felt sick to his stomach as he ate from his friends corpse. As much as he hated it, he had no choice. It was either this or starve. He and a few friends had gone on a trip to Maine during their winter break. His friends had mostly been there for the fun activities at the ski resorts while he had been more interested in the sights. Unfortunately, a freak blizzard had hit and snowed them in a few weeks ago, trapping them in their rented cabin. After they ran out of food, everyone but him and his friend Samson had left in the hopes of getting through the snow to civilization before they all starved. Him and Samson were the only ones smart enough to realize they’d freeze to death before they got even remotely close. Samson had died of starvation two days ago and now here Robbie was, eating him in a desperate attempt to stay alive.
He scrubbed his hands harshly in a pile of snow he had brought inside when he was done, trying to get every speck of blood off. Even when he couldn’t find any trace of it, the feel of blood and flesh under his fingernails still haunted him. He shivered and wrapped a blanket tightly around his shoulders, curling in a ball on the couch. What would people think when they finally found him? Would he even be found before Samson’s corpse was used up and he died from lack of food? He honestly wasn’t sure which he’d rather have happen anymore, the knowledge that he just ate his best friend weighing heavily on his mind.
A little over a week passed, Samson had been completely eaten and Robbie was not feeling well. He constantly felt cold no matter he did and hunger knawed at his stomach like a ravenous wolverine. His vision kept going between hazy and blindingly sharp, his hearing and sense of smell strengthening and weakening. He was sure he was either dying or going insane. His normally bright blue eyes were steadily becoming cloudy, like those of a corpse, skin gaining a deathly palor, and it frightened him. Something was terribly wrong and he knew it.
Another week passed and he had no idea how he hadn’t starved yet. He was so thin, his white and black striped sweater hanging loosely on him, and his stomach was constantly begging for food. And yet, he was alive. His eyes were extremely cloudy now, the blue just barely visible through the white film, and all of his senses were permanently dialed up to a hundred now. The better hearing just made the silence all the more deafening. He shakily got to his feet, intending to bring more snow in to use as water, only to collapse to the floor clutching his stomach. The hunger was suddenly so much worse, it hurt! Why did it hurt?! He grit his teeth, silently praying that he would just die already and be put out of his misery.
Images filled his head of when he ate Samson, something whispering in the back of his mind. The voice went on and on about how good he had tasted, how wonderful it felt to be eating human flesh instead of the filth Robbie normally ate. That they should only eat humans from now on and never go back to normal food, that it was better this way. Robbie clenched his eyes shut, trying to drown out the voice. He had to be going crazy, the isolation and the guilt of eating his friend must have finally made him snap. The nails of his free hand dug into the hard wood floor and he tried to pull himself forward, in too much pain to stand.
His eyes snapped open when instead of moving forward, his hand pulled back towards him and the sound of something scraping against wood was heard. Five deep cuts had been gauged into the wood by his nails. Stunned, he brought his hand to his face to examine his fingers and was stunned to see sharp, dark claws where his fingernails should be. W-What was going on? His clenched teeth ached and he could feel his gums start to bleed. He mouth opened and he covered it with a hand to quiet a choked sob, tears streaming from his eyes. He could feel his teeth change, lengthening into wicked fangs meant to strip flesh from bone.
The whispering was louder now, urging him to leave this place and hunt for food, telling him that the cold couldn’t bother him anymore. He shook his head vehemently, not wanting to listen. This couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t. He unsteadily got to his feet and stumbled into the bathroom. He froze at the sight of his reflection.
He looked like death warmed over, but with sharp claws and terrifying fangs in his mouth. What- what was he?! He clearly wasn’t human anymore. The whispering voice provided the answer. Wendigo, the winter cannibal spirit of Native American folklore. No. No! He didn’t want this! He didn’t want to be this thing! He didn’t want to hurt people, let alone eat them! He already couldn’t forgive himself for Samson, no way was he eating anybody else. He’d rather starve to death. The voice was surprised, never had someone been so strong of will before that they could resist the need for human flesh after becoming a wendigo. It was unheard of. Once a wendigo spirit possessed you, you were doomed to feed on people forever. And yet this purple haired man was doing just that, resisting what was now his very nature.
The voice, which was in truth a wendigo spirit, growled. It couldn’t let it’s host starve themselves, it would die along with them if the cause was starvation. It was loathe to reveal this, but it had no choice. It told him that a wendigo could survive on the flesh of animals if human was unavailable and urged him to at least do that. Robbie reluctantly agreed, as much as he hated being this, he was scared to die. Who knows what would happen to a person if they died after becoming a wendigo. Determination filled him, if he had to be this, he would eat animals. He would never hurt a person for as long as he lived, not for food. He may be a monster now, but he still had his humanity.
(( @clanwarrior-tumbly I just couldn’t resist, I had to write this down the moment I got the idea in my head
Published
A Glitch Named Anti 