Canada's Wendigo: The Monster Inside All of Us
Monster. What comes to mind when you see that word? Maybe it's some eerie spectre or bloodthirsty creature: the one lurking in the darkness just out of the corner of your eye, yet never quite visible when you turn around to look. Maybe it's the supernatural and doomed Byronic hero: the one you know should repulse you, but who is far too alluring to resist. Or maybe, just maybe, it's the radicalized mass murderer: the one so deeply buried in their online echo chamber that you don't even know they exist until they suddenly burst out into the open, leaving death and destruction in their wake. For me, a monster can certainly be all of those things. Already, in my mind, I can hear some of the names. See some of the faces. And perhaps, given this time of year, you think this is where I plan to go. But it isn't. Not this year, nor any year either before or after. Because for me, when I hear the word "monster", I hear its root: Monstrare. It's a Latin word