Short Story: Zega’akwam

Zega’akwam: The Dark Forest

“Nizhimon!” the old woman croaked forcefully, ordering Migizi to run. Her veined, wrinkled hands clawed desperately at her bleeding neck. She twisted and writhed on blood-drenched dirt. Migizi stood before his grandmother, dumbstruck. She coughed. Red flecks sprayed across her lips and dotted Migizi's bare feet.

He sank to his knees beside her, trembling.

“Nizhimon...” her voice faded as the energy leaked out of her body. Her arm darted out and grabbed Migizi’s hand, grip iron-firm and steady even in her dying moments. She pressed a hard, sharp object into his hand and curled his fingers around it.

Migizi stared back at her for a few seconds, frozen in place, until a loud bang ripped through the stillness. He caught a glimpse of one of the ghostly pale Waabiskiwe, the unnatural white men with their hard, hateful faces and sinister steel weapons that spat fire.

Migizi’s instincts screamed. Get up, hide, run, run, RUN. Instead, he gulped, throat dry, and forced himself to lie down, taking short, shallow breaths. The footsteps crept closer. And closer.

Bloodstained boots stopped before him. He forced himself not to flinch, to convince his body that it is dead, that the blood soaking into the Earth is his. The man above him barked a gruff confirmation to his companions and turned away from the corpses littering the ground. Migizi peeked at the intruders from behind half-closed eyes. They marched through the village, sneering at the wooden shacks, smashing wooden chests and tables open as they searched for valuable trinkets. Migizi took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his throat, its roar deafening his ears.

He scrambled to his feet and ran straight towards the woods.

*************

If Migizi ran fast enough, perhaps he could leave behind the misery that coated the inside of his eyelids and dripped down his face with every blink. His feet pounded on the roughly hewn forest trail, kicking up puffs of dirt.

father picking me up and spinning me around grinning proudly, you are named for the great eagle that rules the skies, and you will be the swiftest man our people have ever seen, our people have ever seen, the swiftest-

Migizi forced his teary eyes open. The woods blurred into swirls of black and brown. With every blink, memories flashed through his mind. Memories of people he would never see again.

His breath escaped him in desperate puffs. Trees loomed before him, casting ominous shadows that seemed to shift and waver in the dense fog permeating the air. Migizi could barely see his legs pumping beneath him so he ran with his eyes squeezed shut, putting faith in the talisman his grandmother had shoved in his hand. It was a small, yellowed bear tooth wrapped in a simple leather thong. It warmed his palm and reminded him of home. He clutched it with numb fingers and tried not to think about why it was so sticky. Or why he was running.

chanting, dancing, and laughter, praises sung to the Manitou to thank him for the men’s bountiful hunt and my father holding his bow up and laughing and my mother’s smile and

Migizi wrenched his thoughts back to the present. His feet throbbed with the combined pain of a dozen wounds and scratches. He slowed to a walk. The adrenaline faded away to reveal just how exhausted he was.

Darkness fell over the woods. The light from the moon, so high in the sky, could not pierce the canopy of the woods.

I shouldn’t be here I shouldn’t be here I shouldn’t be here I shouldn’t be here I shouldn’t--

Migizi stumbled to a halt. He was in the Zega’akwam. The deepest part of the woods, where no hunter would venture. Where trees twisted at unnatural angles, their barks oozing black sap. Where men and women vanished, only to reappear in their beds as mangled corpses weeks later.

The back of Migizi's neck prickled. A long, low sigh rustled the leaves around him. Goosebumps erupted on his arms. He shuddered, trying to discern its origin. Any moment, he expected to turn around and see one of the spectral Maji that were rumored to haunt the woods.

He forced himself to control his imagination. He took deep breaths, closed his eyes, counted to ten. Pull yourself together, Migizi, he scolded himself sternly. Maji aren’t real. He repeated this mantra in his head, squeezing the bear tooth in his hand.

Fallen leaves crunched behind him. Maji aren’t real. A soft gust of wind brushed past his shoulder. Migizi's eyes slowly crept open, curiosity overriding his fear. He noticed pearly white figures made of swirling mist standing among the trees. The shapes solidified, forming outlines of tall, ghostly men. As he stared in disbelief, the men crouched to the ground and began transforming. White fur sprouted between their shoulder blades and their faces lengthened to form cruel jaws. Where the men once stood, there was now a pack of wolves.

Maji aren’t real. The trees reached their branches toward Migizi as he backed away. They tangled themselves in his hair and scratched at his face. Roots writhed from the ground, intent on wrapping themselves around his ankles. Maji aren't real. The mist creatures padded toward him on silent paws, moving through the tree trunks and into his path. The giant white wolf that led the pack growled softly.

“You’re not real,” Migizi said out loud, reaching for the mist to dispel it.

His hand touched the wolf, and he placed his palm on its snout as it snarled, hackles raised.

The floodgates holding back Migizi's fear burst. He tried to scream. His throat constricted and he choked, strangled by his own terror. Migizi spurred himself into action, running mindlessly, desperate to escape the growling, snapping wolves that chased him. Footsteps echoed behind him and the wolves howled, frothing with rage. Migizi knew that if they caught him, they would tear him to shreds. He clenched his fist and realized with a surge of dread that his bear tooth was missing. Choking back sobs, he kept running, knowing that to stay still was to embrace death.

Migizi stumbled into a perfectly round clearing. The sudden change in scenery stunned him to a halt. A large, shimmering lake lies ahead, its surface reflecting the silver moonlight. The grass felt soft under his bare feet and shimmered with dew. He risked a glance back and almost collapsed with relief. The wolves dissipated into harmless dust as they tried to cross into the clearing. For now, he was safe.

Migizi’s neck prickled as he approached the lake. He looked back again, expecting to see more wolves. His heart skipped a beat as he noticed a creature that was not standing in the clearing before. The creature, the Thing, flickered, changing shape, each more horrifying than the last. It was his mother, a bullet hole in her head. A corpse, its lipless grin painted in blood. A giant spider, venom dripping from its fangs. It stepped closer. Migizi scrambled back. His knees gave out from fear and exhaustion and he collapsed onto the cool, damp grass, panting.

The Thing stopped before Migizi, now taking the form of a giant snake. Its amber eyes glowed with malice. Intricate runes and symbols ran along the length of its body. Migizi found himself entranced, his eyes following the snake's gentle swaying motion.

“What are you?” he croaked. “What do you want from me?”

“My dear boy,” the Thing crooned, wrapping itself around him, slowly crushing his lungs. “I am your worst nightmare.”

Migizi found that he could finally scream.

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I feel like I enjoy writing horror and gore a little too much, but I'm glad I've discovered an interest in something creative anyway! I have a second and third part of this story planned already so I may post it on here as well depending on how good they turn out. Thanks for reading! :)