Mr. V. Jarsdel

“Wendigos?” Stan was finding hard to believe it. “Is there such things as Wendigos? I mean, people believe vampires exist, don’t they?”

“They believed Wendigos were vampires at one point,” Mr. Jarsdel smiled. “They did crave the blood of humans, but they also ate their flesh…”

“That is just insane,” Stan said bewildered.

“Perhaps,” Mr. Jarsdel said.

“How many times did she die?” Stan asked.

“Many more times,” Mr. Jarsdel said.

Athanasia did not have luck on her side as she was trapped in this casual loop over and over…  or at least it appeared that way. She wasn’t aware of anything, and only remembers the last memory before her death. In an subsequent death, she was back at the hospital were a pack of Wendigos surrounded her. She couldn’t escape them and before she could even back away they attacked her, slaughtering her for their greedy appetite. She could only scream as the pain engulfed her. That was always the last memory, her death at the hands of the Wendigos.

The loop seem to perdure as if it ensnared her, and she was unable to escape it. She died always the same, the memory of pain seared into her, but it played in her mind like a dream.  As years passed, change had taken its toll on everything even her. She still looked the same she did when she first died, but she had lost the ability to speak. The world she new was different and she wasn’t aware how different it had become. There were only a few humans left, but she didn’t know it just yet.

After falling into another loop, Athanasia was back at the hospital with two Wendigo nurses looking down on her as she crawled away from them, knowing what they eventually would do to her. They seem familiar, but she can’t say from where. One of the nurses, a thin middle age brunette displayed her teeth to Athanasia and stepped closer to her.

“Wait,” the older of the two nurses, a rather plump blond stops her. “We are not supposed to consume her. We were told not to.”

“But, I crave her flesh,” the brunette says impatiently. “I can smell her sweet blood. I can sense her heart beating. Why can’t we have her?”

“We were told not to touch her,” the blond responded. “We must follow orders. We can’t disobey again.”

The brunette fixated her stare at Athanasia, not wavering for a moment.

The blond glances at the closed doors and says, “they are coming.”

The blond, though menacing appeared frightened at whoever was about to come through the door, and then the memory blackens. One can only assume, Athanasia died and then the loop began.

“How did it began?” Stan asked.

“How indeed,” Mr. Jarsdel turns to his back to them. “She could never recall her birth, but the memory of her death staid with her. It was assumed the casual loop erased her memory and rewinded her life only to be played out differently each time. How frustrating it must have been for her, but it was her kismet.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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