By: Jason Zapata

Gruesome murders occurred in the winter of 1878
The Indian swift runner would be hung at dawn
Guilty of cannibalism or being a wendigo’s pawn
I wanted to hear the mans side before he met his fate

To document his story I decided to visit the inmate
Nervously I entered his cell at Fort Saskatchewan
The aboriginal man looked haunted and withdrawn
But agreed to tell his story before it was too late

He said it started with insane hunger taking hold
There were no animals to hunt on the tundra’s snow
As hungry nights passed under the moons eerie glow
Slowly he began to feel his heart grow deathly cold

Among the Indians this symptom was centuries old
Swift runner never intended to let his family know
He was possessed by the evil spirit called wendigo
Harboring a craving which could not be controlled

Upon his wife and six children he would feast
Lost in the madness of the daemonic possession
I could tell he was not lying from his expression
Death held the only way he could be released

It struck me how much I had resembled a priest
Listening to this condemned mans confession
As he described the details of his transgression
Before he joined his family among the deceased