Algernon Blackwood’s classic tale, The Wendigo. An influential novella by one of the most best-known writers of fantasy and horror, set in a place and time. You can read a full version of The Wendigo here. Algernon Blackwood’s The Wendigo is one of the best known “ghost stories.” Chances are, if. The Wendigo [Algernon Blackwood] on *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. The Wendigo is a short novel that describes the terror of irrational.

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In the middle of the night, Simpson wakes up to find Defago sobbing and wrndigo in terror. Simpson seems hazy as to what was actually said and done in those next few seconds, for the eyes of that detestable and blasted visage peering at such close quarters into his own utterly bewildered his senses at first.

He paints a clear picture of the beauty of the wild, and the sinister creature that lurks within. He thought of a little child crying in mid-Atlantic Mignan rated it really liked it Shelves: Yet sleep, in this case, was his great enemy, concealing all approaches, smothering the warning of his nerves. I may write some more later, but I will probably revisit Blackwood in a collection that includes this story novella along with others. He had not the trained will of the older men that lagernon them into action in defiance of all emotional stress.

The Wendigo

It really is a thoughtful and well-constructed story, I only wish a,gernon had found a voice for algernoh victim’s terror that wasn’t so oddly specific in observing and reporting on the details of his predicament. My burning feet of fire! And there he lay, as the watches of that haunted night passed over the lonely camp, crying startled sentences, and fragments of sentences, into the folds of his blanket. Other than that, and as usual for Blackwood, there were some quite disturbing and effective images, and some unpleasant implications.

And instinctively the thought stirred in him: An influential novella by one of the most best-known writers of fantasy and horror, set in a place and time Blackwood knew well.

Just a moment while we sign you in to your Goodreads account. It disquieted him more than he cared to admit. He began to follow them mechanically, absentmindedly almost, ever peering over his shoulder to see if he, too, were being followed by something with a gigantic tread For round about the deep, plunging holes of the animal there now appeared a mysterious, reddish tinge that was more like an effect of light than of anything that dyed the substance of the snow itself.


Anyhow, he took longer algeron “find himself. It was in the bigger tracks he first noticed this, and for a long time he could not quite believe his eyes.

Creating wenvigo works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation and you! View all 18 comments. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.

Into the Woods: “The Wendigo” by Algernon Blackwood

Then the ghost of that unforgettably strange odor passed away and was lost among the leagues of tenantless forest beyond. III Thus, it seemed to him, at least. A well written, atmospheric and spooky tale. The band of hunters forge their way north, into the pristine, arctic stillness of the Canadian wilds. For, Blackwwood found it to be a very good story. The mind had fled beyond recall.

Dec 24, Althea Ann rated it liked it.

Into the Woods: “The Wendigo” by Algernon Blackwood | these strange woods

He made his nephew think himself finer than he was by judicious praise, yet more foolish than he was by minimizing the value of the evidence.

And, since he now faced the lake with his back to the trees it was evidently nothing in the forest that had algernnon so strange and sudden a warning to his marvelously trained nerves.

Newby Chief Executive and Director gbnewby pglaf. A vision of Defago, eternally hunted, driven and pursued across the skiey vastness of those ancient forests fled like wendigl flame across the dar A tale of men in the wilderness on the trail of something else.

Search the history of over billion web pages on the Internet. Blackwood also wrote light fantasy and juvenile books. Two Scotsmen – a Dr. The severity of the haunted vigil marked his soul for life; but it was successfully accomplished; and with the very first signs of dawn he set forth upon the long return journey to the home camp to get help.

The Wendigo by Algernon Blackwood

With the persistence of true pluck, however, Simpson went forward, following the tracks as best he could, smothering these ugly emotions that sought to weaken his will. But nowhere a sign of the vanished guide–still, doubtless, flying at frantic speed through the frozen woods. Algernon Blackwood’s classic tale, The Wendigo.


Definitely one of the better “classics” that I have read. Blackwood deftly leaves the supernatural in the dark, whence it stares at the reader out of its red eyes, not deigning to step into the light and showing us its real shape — and this leaves the reader with the question whether there is a Wendigo outside in the dark forests, or whether there are not rather some people carrying the Wendigo inside themselves. It was thrilling to him, therefore, to watch Defago turn over the canoe upon the shore, pack the paddles carefully underneath, and then proceed to “blaze” the spruce stems for some distance on either side of an almost invisible trail, with the careless remark thrown in, “Say, Simpson, if anything happens to me, you’ll find the canoe all correc’ by these marks;–then strike doo west into the sun to hit the home camp agin, see?

He went off to a little distance from the fire, apparently so that the light should not dazzle him too much, and shading his eyes for a moment with both hands, shouted in a loud voice that held anger and affection dreadfully mingled: Like huge flying leaps they became.

Before eight o’clock old Punk had the camp to himself, Cathcart and Hank were far along the trail that led westwards, wwndigo the canoe that carried Defago and Simpson, with silk tent and grub for two days, was already a dark speck bobbing on the bosom of the lake, going due east. It was in the middle of the third verse that Simpson noticed something unusual–something that brought his thoughts back with a rush from faraway scenes.

This time, according to a careful plan, he took a new direction, intending to make a wide sweep that must sooner or later cut into indications of the guide’s trail; and, before he had gone a quarter of a mile he came across the tracks of a large animal in the snow, and beside it the light and smaller tracks of what were beyond question human feet–the feet of Defago.