In my family, the wendigo is not spoken of as a myth, in fact, if we can help it, it isn’t spoken of at all. For to even use the word is to invite things more horrible than you can imagine into the thoughts and into the home.

Instead of the word, we have the doll. A small, hideous, figurine that has lived on our mantlepiece for generations. As a child I was forbidden to touch that figurine. As an adult, I found out why.

The Wendigo Doll is a tale of myth, terror and a hunger that will never, ever, end.