Wendigo in Lake Powell

Hello Constant Listener. I wanted to take a moment and say thank you if you’re still out there listening for my stories. My personal situation has changed drastically over the last few months and has limited the time that I can dedicate to this horror podcast. But I’ve had some wonderful fans reach out to encourage me. So as a thank you this evening, we will be doing a double feature. Both requested subjects are from wonderful fans I’ve met through Twitter and Facebook. Luciferos X, and Brandon of New Zealand. Thank you both for reaching out, these original Coppershock Horror Stories are for you two. Each episode will have its own openers as well. Enjoy.

COLD OPENER:

FADE IN: 

***The wind outside whistles***

***knocking of wood on wood pulses in the background***

“Will you just stop the pounding of that cabin door?”

A woman turned about, then leaned down as she stuffed a rock near the bottom to wedge the door shut against the blizzard outside.

 ***wind cont’ but banging stops***

The group of people looked to one another in shame, hunger, and sickness. They were going to die out here in the cold, they had lost their trail. The snow had covered it so deeply, that by the time they were able to really see the ground again did they realize they were hopelessly lost. They found empty cabins nearby to take shelter in. That was almost a week and a half ago, and all food was absent.

“We need to talk about it.” A man with a long mustache called out to the quiet room. The silent group of eight looked around to one another. Five men, two women, and a young boy.

“I can’t even think of it.” A woman in a blue shawl tucked her arms around her stomach harder. 

“Someone could sacrifice themselves for the rest of us.” Patrick stood up rubbing his hands together in the cold. A bachelor on his own, but a neighbor to all standing in this very room.

The woman in the blue shawl looked to the ground away from Patrick’s eye contact. 

“What about him?” A bulking man with a fur hat stood and pointed to a wavering thin young boy. The woman standing by the boy with her hair in a long braid stood herself physically between the large man, and the young boy.

“He’s so weak.” the man continued

“But he’s not gone yet.” The woman with a braid spoke in such defiance the large man eyed her then took a step back. The cabin fell to silence again listening to the wind.

“I have an idea.” Patrick exited through the door to the outside, feeling the wedged rock roll away. The group of them stood nearby listening to the wind and snow attack the sides of the cabin. Until the cabin door once again burst open with Patrick clasping something inside his hands. Eight midsize twigs. Patrick then snapped one in half, placing all of them neatly into a grip in his palm. He turned around and handed the bundle to the woman in the blue shawl. 

“A lottery. Whomever draws the short branch. They are the one.”

The group looked terrified to even touch the simple sticks in the woman’s hand as though they were cursed. For one unfortunate soul, it would be a curse. 

“Go ahead.” Patrick said. 

***begin slow music***

The large gruff man took one step forward and drew the first stick. One by one, each person drew a twig and gave a large sigh of relief when they saw it’s comforting length. There were two left.