Winter pounded on the door and walls around the wooden shack the men had found and hunkered down in. The small military force was at their wit’s and body’s ends; they were exhausted, soaking wet, and low on munitions, rations, and morale. Their survival was based on how much body […]
Tuesday, March 16, 2021 My name is Todd Marston, I’m a collector of sorts, collecting old bullet casings from each country I visit and showcase them in my museum. I found some strange trinkets over the years but that was nothing compared to what I found in the Czech Republic.
Algonquin legends say the wendigo was once a man like you and me. Poisoned by greed and gluttony, the man turned into a pale, gaunt creature with sunken eyes, reaching limbs, and an insatiable hunger for human flesh. Always hungry, the wendigo searched constantly for its next meal. The truth,
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I’m hungry. I don’t usually wake up hungry. Usually a post-sleep panic grips my stomach and doesn’t let go for two or three hours. Five if I was drinking the night before. Even if it was a little bit, I won’t tolerate breakfast. Today was different. I got out of
The first thing I remember of my arrival in Ahtunowhiho, the small Native American village in the northern reaches of Minnesota, was the smell. The familiar aroma of soaked dirt permeated the air and was instantly noticeable as soon as the doors of the cramped, twelve-seater plane were opened. The
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