My children huddled nervously at my ankles. Their cool icy breath is quickly pushed out of their lungs, their wispy white fumes decorating the air. I glance over at them from the corner of my eyes. Any calm composure I might've had left is gone once I see the terror in their eyes. Despite this, I do try and shoot them a reassuring smile. Our host was gracious, accepting, calming at first. Still, the darken halls made me doubt how much of that was sincere. My mind can't help but conjure up images of what these strangers might possibly do to us, to my children. My breathing too now becomes labored. My heart hadn't pounded this hard since I'd given birth to them.
I once had a normal life. Then, boom. Taken from my home of soft billowing green. I'd been scared. Alone. Still was, in many ways. I think my father had possibly sold me, as horrendous as it was to say. And after all of that, bam. One encounter with a gruff, plump fellow and I were with child. Or, should I say children.
I can't say I completely regret it. They're the only thing I hold dear in this world. Their twinkling eyes, rosy skin, it's the only beauty I have.
Anyway, everything felt bleak up until the strange men with rubber gloves stepped in and offered shelter. A place to say. An escape. Not home, but safety for myself and my children.
One of them sniffles loudly. I try and go to comfort her, but I'm further shoved forward by rubber gloves, moving deeper and deeper into God knows where. I snap at the man, but it does nothing to help. Is this how they treat guests? With a heavy sigh, I squint again at the writings on the wall that I couldn't make out. We'd been marched through the long, dark hall for some time now. The draft carries a sour smell throughout the place, the odor growing the farther and farther in we get. It makes my children squeal out in fear, the foul smell concocting images of-
Dead bodies. Managed, gnarled bodies. We've turned a corner, and what I see makes me scream. Off to the right, lining the wall, bodies hang from thick chains. Some are dripping wet, pressurized water from a hose turning red clots of blood into a crimson mist that sprinkles, covering the entire hall. Limbs too, hang separately from the main bodies. Piercing eyeballs, bloody fingers, innards piled up on tables like haystacks. Looks of terror and fear frozen onto the victims faces. It's all I can do to choke back the scream.
At least, we'd found the source of that awful smell.
But this did tell me that we weren't mere "guests".
I have no time to stumble backward out of shock, as suddenly my very children are scoped up! I scream loudly, attacking the assailant. My little darlings thrash, but they're powerless against the men with the thick gloves.
Before I do anything, I'm pulled in an opposite direction, past the bodies. I scream and scream, but its all worthless. Soon it's just the men, the bodies, the writing and myself. This is no safety, no haven. This is death.
Tears now watering my cheeks and the taste of terror still fresh in my mouth, I look over and try to make out what's been encrypted in black ink. I squint, harder this time. Maybe if I could read the sign I'd discover what had happened to my babies, and what will happen to me.
If only pigs were able to read English. I do think I should stop trusting human beings. Hopefully, nothing too horrible will come about...
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A/N:
I want to clarify that I'm NOT trying to be a preachy vegan or anything on my crusade against the consumption of meat. I just like writing from animals perspectives, and this is for a contest about disturbingness so hey, why not a slaughterhouse?
