Horror Story # 3, 'The Pig Men'

The Pig Men’

Gerald looked down his scope from across the farm, the fields and then towards the woods.

The Township had discovered that beasts that should not be, lived within that verdant mass.

He was told they were horrific to look at, yet unlike regular pigs that walked on all fours, these uncanny two-legged pig men wafted a pleasant honey ham aroma. 

What piqued human interest even more was basic in nature: a pigman blooded and cleaned, cooked on a thick spit, was possibly the most delicious, heavenly flavoured meat an omnivore could devour.

Gerald was one of the best shots with a rifle. The Townsfolk had formed a semi-circle and bid Gerald farewell and Godspeed.

Gerald gave a wave of goodbye and glanced one final time over his shoulder at his well-wishing neighbours.

Pre-dawn light betrayed the shapes of the collective figures and their black silhouettes appeared ominous for one brief second. Their teeth shone as they smiled, brighter than their eyes, in the firepits’ glow.

From the perspective of the Village, Gerald shrank into a dark dot crossing the field and, in a moment, swallowed deep by Witches Wood. The village folk

Gazed for an extended time at the Forest, and you would guess they even anticipated blood curdling screams coming from Gerald. But instead, their ears were met with a quiet, the silence of God.

The thirty-two-year-old Hunter glid through the Woods on foot like a haunting phantom, avoiding noisy, fry twigs and branches, brittle random bones, dry as Winter leaves. 

For half a day Gerald travelled in the direction, using the spare map drawn by the previous Hunter before his disappearance. 

He heard faint grunts and the stomping of trotters through the fallen foliage. All of a sudden three pig children were in view, charging through the brush. They were laughing and squealing, playing a game of tag with one chasing the other two.

‘Tag! You’re it,’ the taller pig boy called out in clear pronounced English, as regal as any Oxford scholar.  Gerald for a moment was dumbfounded by how gracious these creatures were. They were glorious wonders, and humanity could possibly learn a lot from these beings.

His blessed reverie was cut short by a growl in his stomach and as he raised the scope and artfully pulled the trigger at the furthest pig child, Gerald muttered under his breath, ‘A village has got to eat.’

END