A deathly and emaciated fellow bursts in through the door of the room. His nose, his ears, his fingernails, and even his teeth seem out of proportion, as if they’d been growing while the rest of his body had been dead and decaying. No matter how dry his mouth may look and his rasping intakes of air may sound, you can tell he’s brimming with a crazed hunger…for your plump organs. The chair you’ve been sitting on and your own strength is no match for his cannibal fervor.
After he’s done filling his stomach with yours and slurps up a small intestine like a thick Asian noodle, he thanks the doctor for allowing him the opportunity to cure his Wendigo-psychosis and walks out as a brand new man, ready to reinstitute himself into society.
As soon as he’s gone though, the doctor retrieves a bejeweled scimitar that was once blessed by a Sufi wiseman and lops off your head. He then pulls out a wooden stake and drives it into your blood-drained heart with a rubber sledgehammer. Next, what remains of your carcass is riddled with bursts of silver bullets from a submachine gun and is dragged off to a pyre of snake skins that is lighted with the help of a Weeminuche medicine man. Finally, your ashes and bones are sealed in a lead box and dropped to the bottom of the Arctic Ocean underneath a 1200 meter thick layer of ice.
Years later, a team of Inuit scientists are mapping and scouring the ocean floor to appease their more superstitious family members that the “Great, Lost Dagotah” has not returned to bring a curse upon them. However, after noticing an expansive anomaly up ahead they look to their visual monitors and see for themselves what none of them would have believed otherwise – your own rotting, Wendigo-like figure standing on the ocean floor like a 200-foot Japanese daikaiju. Their submarine is summarily devoured.
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