I was sick. It wasn't my fault. The blood, oozing out of her body... I can hear the screams echoing inside my mind as she drew her last breath.
But it was good...
I sought to satiate the very pit that was my stomach. Unbearable hunger... It was as though my very life depended on this act of savagery.
To consume others that wandered.
To consume those that faltered.
I had to consume...
A faint glimmer of light burns in the distance as I hear the sounds of people dancing and drums beating. The sun beginning to rise...
A Native-American folk tale, the Wendigo is the transformation of a man into beast. The beast feasts on the carcasses of other humans, but, ever growing in size will never feel satiated. It's body grows, always faster and bigger than its rate of ingestion. Set in the African Congo, the Wendigo is pictured as one of the local tribesman against a Catholic missionary. This is actually a juxtaposition.
When the Europeans colonized regions of Africa, they brought with them a religion to overcome the native people. This empire, having had overwhelming influence and power, changed many traditions. However, the ancient books were used as a means of confusion - leaving the natives to fend off in the darkness of indoctrination. What they did not realize was that the hunger that resided in the natives to be set free was greater than their will to succumb to their new masters.
It became a platform for rebellion - one that would reveal the true Wendigo of humanity: religion and its cannibalistic nature to consume our lives for political and social gain.
Hunger, hunger, hunger...
"Force should be right; or rather, right and wrongBetween whose endless jar justice resides,Should lose their names, and so should justice too,Then everything includes itself in power,Power into will, will into appetite;And appetite, a universal wolf,So doubly seconded with will and power,Must make perforce a universal prey,And at last...
Eat up himself..."
- William Shakespeare
Rip out your entrails,
Your rancid abdomen,
The taste of your bone is
The fuel to my rage!
The toes of my victims
Are hung from my cervix,
This war paint I wear is
The blood of atonement!
Feed my gluttony!
Blood is pouring down my face,
The stench of decaying flesh,
Imbues with me once and for all.
Decrepit bodies, a nest for the fungus
Corrode inside, inside my bod
Leaving the carcass aside, left to rot.
Gangrene is upon your leg,
Clot turning black as you erode,
Detestable maggots form at your feet!
Every feeding is what I revere,
Try to run as fast as you can!
Under the sun no one lives in our land!
Feed my soul...
Feed my soul...