Good evening, it's Spooky Boo Rhodes from Sandcastle, California. Tonight's creepypasta is a story called Feed the Pig by Elias Witherow. For more stories of the strange, visit my website at www.scarystorytime.com or follow me on Patreon at www.scarystorytime.com/patreonNow let's begin.
Feed the Pig
by Elias Witherow
I slowly opened my eyes. My head was swimming and a dull pain surrounded my throat. I was thirsty. That was the first thing I noticed. I licked my dry lips as my surroundings faded into focus. My body ached and I realized it was because I was tightly bound to a metal chair in the middle of an empty room. The barren concrete walls were stained and dirty, the floor beneath my bare feet was cold and slightly wet.
A single bulb lit the room, dangling from the ceiling by a string. It cast moving shadows and I blinked back darkness. An open door stood before me, but I couldn't see anything but the wall of a hallway.
I tried to clear my head, tried to remember how I got here. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself not to panic. I slowed my breathing and focused my thoughts, desperately trying to summon some recollection of why I was here.
I couldn't remember anything.
I opened my eyes and exhaled, my parched throat throbbing. I could hear sound echoing off the hallway walls outside the door. Screaming, clanging, howling, all very distant but that did nothing to help calm my nerves.
“Hello?!” I cried, the word tearing at my vocal cords. I felt my chest hitch in pain but I cleared my throat and yelled again.
“Is anyone there!? Hello!?”
The dark hallway remained silent except for the constant echoes. I shut my mouth and tried to wriggle free of my bindings, but the rope was knotted impossibly tight. I fought back against my imagination as it flooded my mind with horrific scenarios of what awaited me. If I could only remember!
Suddenly, footsteps erupted from outside the door, a rapid patter of small feet. My hopes rose and I trained my attention on the door, praying it was help.
A young boy ran into the room, dressed in a red onsey, complete with padded feet. Stretched over his face was a plastic Devil mask. The eye holes revealed massive blue eyes that greeted me curiously. Taken back, I opened my mouth to speak but that's when I noticed something was off. His eyes were huge, impossibly round and bulging from their sockets. It sent a shiver of unease down my spine, but I shook it off. This child might be able to free me.
“Hey!” I hissed, urgently, “Hey kid, can you get me out of here?!”
The boy took a step closer, cocking his head, but remaining silent.
I rattled my bound arms against the chair, “Cut me free, please, I shouldn't be here, this is some kind of mistake!”
The boy eyed me behind his strange mask and stopped directly in front of me. He leaned in close and whispered, his voice like wet silk, “You did a bad thing...”
Confused, I shook my head, “No! No this is a mistake! I didn't do anything!”
The boy's enormous blue eyes suddenly filled with sadness, “Oh, you did a really, really bad thing...”
I shook my head again, violently, “No! I'm sorry! I don't remember, just please get me out of this chair!”
Suddenly, before either of us could speak again, a man came charging into the room. He was overweight and dressed in overalls, his grizzled face twisted in seething anger. He was holding a sawed off shotgun in his arms.
“I didn't do anything!” I cried as he advanced on us, my voice cracking, “I'm not supposed to be here!”
The big man ignored me and instead grabbed the kid and shoved him hard against the wall. The boy grunted as his back struck the concrete and his eyes rose to meet the grizzled man's.
Wordlessly, the man raised his shotgun, placed it against the boy's forehead, and blew his head off. Chunks of gore splattered the wall as shock slugged me in the stomach like an iron fist. My ears rang and time seemed to slow as I watched in horror as the headless body crumpled to the ground.
My breath rushed back into my lungs and time seemed to readjust.
“Jesus fucking CHRIST!” I screamed, straining against the ropes, my eyes bulging in horrific shock, “WHAT THE FUCK!?”
The man ignored my screams as he bent down and picked up the boy. He slung the ruined corpse over his shoulder and walked out the doorway.
Suddenly, the hallway erupted with malicious laughter, a chorus of voices all howling in glee. I shut my eyes, the noise deafening, as absolute terror filled my every pore.
After a few moments, the laughter faded and I cautiously opened my eyes, unable to believe what I had just witnessed.
“Hello.”
I jumped as I realized there was another man standing before me. He was dressed in a simple, white button down shirt and jeans. His brown hair was cut short and he appeared to be in his early thirties. His green eyes were dull and lifeless, his full lips pulled down at the corners.
“What is going on!? Where am I!?” I cried, new fear pooling in my stomach like hot blood.
The man crossed his arms, “So you're the new one huh?” He shook his head, “You people disgust me.”
Questions bubbled on my lips but he waved them off with a sharp chop of his hand, slicing the air and demanding my silence.
He ran his tongue over his teeth, sneering, “You look like you've already seen some of the horrors this place holds huh? Yes, I can tell by the look in your eyes. You're terrified. You've seen something haven't you? It doesn't seem all that bad now does it, looking back? You've been here five minutes and already you're shitting your pants.”
“Where am I?” I gasped, unable to hold back any longer, “What do you people want?”
The man crossed his arms behind his back, “I bet you want to get out of here don't you? I bet you'd like to go back to your home, your family, everything.”
“Please,” I interrupted, “Whatever I did to you...I'm sorry, I really am, but I don't remember!”
The man rolled his eyes, “You didn't do anything to me. You did it to yourself. You really don't remember anything?”
I shook my head and felt tears brimming in my eyes, liquid fear.
The man looked at me with contempt, “You waited until your wife left for work and then you went out to the woodshed and hung yourself. You're dead.”
The recent memory rose in my mind like a monster from a bog. My eyes went wide. As much as I wanted to deny it...he was right. I had killed myself. The incident tore through my brain like a bullet train and left me reeling.
“I'm Danny, by the way,” the man said, ignoring the shocked look on my face, “And I'm number two here. I run the orientation process. I want to make this quick because I'm tired of repeating this fucking thing to you pathetic Suicidals. You get one question before I begin.”
He stared down at me and I scrambled to organize my thoughts into something cohesive. This was all horrifying. Why had I killed myself? I fought against the fog and panic and the mists of confusion slowly began to lift. I had just lost my job. Yes...that was the start. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced more of the memory to emerge. I had lost my job and I was about to lose the house. My wife...Tess...she found out and was going to leave me. I didn't have any way out, didn't have any options. Getting fired had come out of the blue and I didn't have much in savings. I was broke, soon to be homeless, and my wife hated me for it. There was something else...yes...that's right. She had been cheating on me. I had seen texts on her phone while she slept one night and confirmed my suspicions. My life had degraded to shit and I had run out of options. Humiliated and ashamed, I had decided death was my only option.
“Hey, fucker, do you have a question or not?” Danny said, snapping his fingers in front of my face.
I was sucked back into reality and I asked the only question that mattered.
“Is this Hell?”
Danny snorted, “That's always what you people ask.” He began to pace back and forth in front of me, “No. This is not Hell. It's not Heaven either. This is the Black Farm. And no, I didn't name it that. This is where God sends the souls who have ended their own life. Suicidals. You see, he doesn't really know what to do with you...and neither does the Devil. There are genuinely good people who kill themselves. Seems cruel to banish them to Hell for all eternity for a moment of weakness right? Personally, I think God and the Devil were just tired of arguing about it. And so, they send them here, to the Black Farm.”
“Did...did God create this place?” I asked, growing more and more confused.
Danny spit on the floor, chuckling, “Sure, at some point. But he lost control of it when he put The Pig in charge.”
“What's The Pig?” I asked, unsure I wanted to know the answer.
Danny held up a hand, annoyed, “Can I fucking finish? God created this place, eons ago, put The Pig in charge, and then forgot about it for a while. Well, when his back was turned, The Pig decided to use his new powers to try and create his own little world. This mess you see around you is the fractured remains of that experiment. The Black Farm use to be a lot nicer, but The Pig wanted things to be different. He wanted to create his own vision. These people you see, these monsters? They are The Pig's attempts at creating functioning life. Instead of mirroring God's Earth, these mutated horrible creations are full of sin and hatred. They run rampant here, unabashed. This place is chaos. The Black Farm is a circus of freaks and monsters. And it's your eternity.”
Fear boiled in my gut like thick oil. No. No this couldn't be my end. I didn't believe in stuff like this. This wasn't real! I would wake up soon and realize I was just having a nightmare! That had to be it!
Danny stood before me and lightly slapped my face, “Hey, hey! Don't
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