Creepypasta Presents:
Daddy's Girl
March 30, 2019
by Andrew Pendragon
After Momma got sick, Daddy didn’t act the same. He’d go off into their room and not come out for days. I was just thirteen at that time, but Daddy said I was big and needed to take care of things. I liked feelin’ responsible.
Back then, it was just me, Sarah-Beth, and baby Junie, and Junie wasn’t much more than nine months old. She still wanted the teat, but with Momma come sick and all since Junie was born, she had to suckle on one of the momma pigs we had left. We called her Kicker, cuz she would always try to kick baby Junie away when she would try to drink, but after a while Kicker got used to it and would show off her pink belly as soon as she saw Junie come round. Maybe even thought that Junie was her own piglet since Kicker’s litter was so small that year. Once, Sarah-Beth tried to drink some of Kicker’s milk too. She said it was sour, so I never had none of it.
We lived on a modest hog farm out in the middle of nowhere with a not much more than a winter barn for the pigs and a rickety house turned all grey from the sun. The ground wasn’t good for plowing, but daddy had tried up until all the grass died out and the trees started to shrivel. We never saw nobody neither, but Daddy told us that there used to be a lot of people livin’ out that ways before we were born. Me and Sarah-Beth would run around the farm namin’ all the pigs and smacken’ ‘em into something fierce. They would howl and squeal. Daddy didn’t like that though. He took out his gun once.
When we started havin’ to take care of baby Junie, we would bring her into the pig pen too. She was too little to talk, but we would ask her to say their names.
“That one’s named Big Ed, Junie!” we said. “Can you say ‘Big Ed’?” we said. Sarah-Beth always tried to name one America, but I always told her that you can’t rightly name a pig something like that ‘less you’re just askin’ for someone to get confused. Then Sarah-Beth would oink like a sure hog, and we would fall in the mud and laugh our cheeks red. She looked just like Momma when she smiled, right down to the gums.
Most of the time life on the farm was pretty easy, I’d say. Every mornin’ at the crack of dawn me and Sarah-Beth would go down and put some more wood on the stove, so that the house would stay nice and warm. That’s the way Momma liked it, Daddy would say. We’d eat something small and watch the fire crackle in the potbelly, the hungry tongues lapping across the grain like a horse on a salt block. Then we would go get baby Junie and take her down to get her milk. She would always squint and grin up to her nose at the sun when we walked out. She would clap her hand on her belly and laugh when we played with her special arm. It was smaller than the other one and didn’t work to right neither. Even though Daddy had said that baby Junie didn’t have to drink milk no more, we would still take her to Kicker. It was fun to get her used to all the pigs since there weren’t much else to do, but Daddy insisted that we started givin’ her solid food. So, we’d soften up some bread in water and pop it into Junie’s mouth. I thought she wouldn’t be too happy with it, but she always ate her plate empty.
When we got done eatin’, we’d go out and water all the pigs from some old pump Daddy said his daddy had dug down. You’d have to wait for the mud clear from it before you put your bucket under or else you’d have to make more trips to get good drinkin’ water. That’s what I hated! Having to walk back and forth between to the pump and the pig pen was always my least favorite part. After a while, the pump stopped giving so much water, though, and I didn’t have to walk so much. That was nice, but a couple of the pigs died. Sarah-Beth cried for a whole day.
Most of our chores were keepin’ care of the pigs. So, once that was done, me and Sarah-Beth could do whatever we wanted until dinner. I always liked playing inside and was good at convincin’ Sarah-Beth to play what I wanted.
