Wendigo 3

Maria Hightower was ten going on eighteen that summer. The only girl in the family, and all the kids teased her and told her that she would be just like her mother one day. The town whore. Kids can be mean at that age, but the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. She wore makeup, smoked when she could find half of a cigarette lying around and even took a sip of her mother’s alcohol-infused coffee from time to time. She was going nowhere fast and would be pregnant by the age of sixteen.

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Wendigo 2


Giggles echoed through the park along with the sounds and scent of a fresh-popped bag of corn. The summer was ending soon, and soon the little amusement park would again close to falling tears, and “Mama please” sounds came from the small children. Memories would last forever, and the innocent days of summer would permanently settle into the old red dirt.

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Short stories – Wendigo

Kansas, in August, there isn’t hell on earth like it. The sun beating down like Satan was frying bacon on the piles of earth soil beneath this state. Why the fuck would anyone willingly live here? Those were Seth’s thoughts precisely as he laid under that old tree on Oak street. He was trying to catch a little of the breeze the forecaster promised.

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