Piggy, a short story by Zach Zajac at Spillwords.com
Alan Frijns



written by: Zach Zajac



I pound the door as hard as I can. “Please, please, please let me in.”

The night is cold and dark, and I’m all alone—at least, I hope I’m alone. We all know what kind of things like to lurk out here in the woods. Especially at night.

My brothers laugh at me. I don’t think this is very funny. I could freeze. Or worse.

I pound the door again. “Come on. Just let me in.”

Their voices leak out from under the door frame with the orange light from the fireplace. They gleefully chant, “Not by the hairs on our chinny chin chins.”

Hungry howls echo through the woods.

I press my head against the door. The oak creaks but does not open. “Please,” I whimper. “He’s out here.”

For a moment, the house goes silent, and for a moment, I think I’m saved. Then house erupts with laughter.

Furious, I thrust my hooves against the door wildly. “You can’t do this to me! You can’t let him get me! You can’t let me die!”

My cries return to me unanswered, bouncing off the thick brick wall of the house and the thicker darkness of the forest.

With a heavy sigh, I change my tone. “Abner?” I say softly. “I know you can hear me, little brother. Please let me in.”

I hear tiny hooves advancing across the stone floor, followed by a stern raspy voice.

“What do you think you’re doing?” says Wilfred.

Abner unintelligibly stammers, and my heart sinks.

“You know why he’s out there,” Wilfred continues.

“I… I… I do,” Abner replies.

“And we were having such a good time.”

“We… We… We were.”

“Why do you want to ruin it?” Wilfred asks with blood in his voice.

“I just… I just thought-”

“You just thought what?”

“You made your point, Wilf,” Abner says with a shaking voice. “He’s scared.”

“Scared wasn’t the point,” Wilfred says.

“But… But… But… He’s our brother.”

“He’s our bad brother.” I can almost hear the spiteful grin on Wilfred’s face.

“You… You… You can’t be serious?”

“Do you want to join him?” Wilfred asks.

“Don’t listen to him, Abner!” I yell. “Don’t let him bully you!”

“Do you want to join him?!” repeats Wilfred, shouting over me.

There is a long silence before Abner quietly says, “No.”

“Good,” says Wilfred. “Now, come back to the table.”

I listen as the hoof steps slowly trail away from me. “You son of a bitch!” I scream. “You dirty rotten son of a bitch!”

Calmly, Wilfred says, “My house. My rules.”

The howling is getting louder.

I pound on the door a final time. “I’m serious,” I say, my voice thin and exhausted. “Open the door.”

My brothers resume their laughter.

“Please,” I say, tears running down my face, “he’s coming. Please let me in.”

“I’m sorry, brother,” says Wilfred. “You should have worked harder.”

I beg again, but it’s too late. My brothers have already returned to their singing and laughing.

Defeated, I throw my back against the door and let myself slide to the ground. The howls grow closer. My hooves, already bloody and bruised, tremble with fear. To calm down, I screw my eyes shut and softly sing.

“Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? The big bad wolf. The big bad wolf….”

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