Sherriff Amos walked into work on the morning of January 28th, expecting another typical day. As a small-town sheriff, Amos and the rest of his crew never saw anything more exciting than some local teenagers vandalizing the park or shoplifting. But that was all about to change.
Amos sat at his desk and began his morning routine, which involved drinking a cup of coffee and reading the local paper. Almost immediately a story from the neighboring town of Greenhaven caught Amos’s eye. The headline read in giant bold letters, "DERANGED BUTCHER KILLS 6 AND IS STILL AT LARGE”. Amos Looked at the headline in disbelief and without skipping a beat he began to read the attached story.
On January 24th, Mike Wallace went crazy and killed six people. Mike was the owner of The Meat Hook, a local butchery that specialized in pork products. Last Saturday, Mike seemed to have snapped and he went crazy, killing six people with a large meat cleaver. Security footage of the event shows Mike, wearing a pig's head as a mask, coming out from the back of his small shop holding his knife. He then proceeds to calmly walk up to three of his unsuspecting employees and brutally murder them with swift blows to their heads and necks. But this wasn’t the end of his spree, 34-year-old Mabel June was in the store with her infant daughter Millie. Horrified at the events transpiring in front of her Mabel tried to run for the exit. Seeing that, Mike left the three employees bleeding on the ground and vaulted over the counter toward the young mother and child. He then buried the knife deep in the mother’s face killing her almost instantly. The baby fell to the floor and without a moment’s hesitation, Mike buried the knife in her head as well. Mike then dragged the bodies into the back of the shop before creating a gruesome tableau with the corpses which involved many meathooks and an array of knives. Mike then left out of the back door, still wearing the pig’s head. Local police advise that Mike Wallace is still at large and considered very dangerous. They advise citizens to be on the lookout for Wallace and to not approach. Also, they ask that any tips be reported to the Greenhaven police department.
No sooner had Amos finished reading when the phone on his desk rang. He picked it up and he recognized the voice of his deputy Erickson, “Hey chief,” said Eric in a shaky voice, “I’ve got something here you’re gonna want to see.”
“What is it?’ asked Amos.
“I don't really know how to explain it.” Responded Erickson, “There's a lot of blood. And two bodies here that we’re still trying to ID.”
“I’m on the way now.” Said Amos who was already gathering his things. He noted down the address Erickson had given him and within minutes he was speeding to the crime scene.
When he got there he was surprised to see a decrepit old house that looked like it had suffered years of neglect. As he pulled up, Amos saw that the house was swarming with crime scene techs. Erickson was sitting by his cruiser writing the report when Amos pulled up to the scene.
Amos got out and walked up to Erickson who got out of the car and said, “We haven't moved the bodies yet, techs are still collecting evidence but I think you should see this.”
The pair walked into the house led by Erickson and through a narrow hallway and into a bedroom in the back of the building.
The first thing Amos noticed was the smell. The smell of rot and decay hit him like a wave as he walked into the room and that alone almost made him vomit. That was before he saw the body on the bed.
Spread eagle on the musty old bed was the barely recognizable body of a naked man. His stomach was cut open and his insides were sprawled across the bed in a messy fashion. Blood had pooled around the body and dried on the covers. He had been unceremoniously castrated. The flesh on his left leg had been torn off so much that the bone was visible, a stark white contrast to the blood-soaked blankets around it. A large meat hook had been put through his neck and chained to the wall behind the bed. But the worst part was his face which had been maimed beyond recognition. Cuts and slashes littered the area around the eyes and nose and the mouth had been stuffed with a set of testicles that Amos could only presume were the man's own.
At the foot of the bed, slumped over, with a small handgun next to his head was a man wearing a rotting pig's head and Amos gasped as he recognized Mike Wallace from the news story he had read earlier that morning.
Amos had never seen anything so vile or sick at any point in his career. Before his brain had even fully processed what he had seen he rushed outside to the overgrown front yard and vomited into the grass.
He attempted to compose himself as Erickson walked outside and handed him a small notebook sealed in a plastic bag. “The victim was a man by the name of Terry Miller, age twenty-four. He was found earlier this morning by a group of teenagers who came out here to explore.”
“Jesus Christ. Those poor kids.” Said Amos, wiping his lip and straightening up.
“The only reason I know the victim’s name is because it was in the front of this journal which was found at the scene.” Said Erickson, “The journal details multiple encounters with Mike Wallace, aka the Pig Man. And it fills the gaps in the timeline for us.”
“Thanks,” Amos replied, gingerly opening the bag and pulling out the small leather-bound notebook.
Opening the notebook he instantly saw that the pages had been dyed a deep crimson by blood. He then began to read the accounts of Terry Miller and his encounters with the Pig Man which were scrawled across several pages in messy handwriting.
January 25th,
I woke up last night, it was cold and dark and this odd feeling had overcome me. My room was dark and the only thing I could hear was my measured breathing and the soft purring of my cat, Whiskers, at my feet. I looked at the small alarm clock on my nightstand and it read 4:27 am. I remember thinking "Great, I have to be up for work in less than an hour."
So I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. And that's when I noticed something odd. From my new position, I could see out my window and through a small gap in the curtains, across the street onto my neighbor's porch.
The dim, flickering porch light was on, and on the porch stood a figure. It was a tall and slender person. It was a man who wore a raggedy old t-shirt, and jeans, to my horror, he also seemed to be wearing a mask resembling a pig's face.
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I tried to rub the sleep from my eyes and make sure I was seeing the man correctly. Sure enough, the man was wearing a stark pink pig mask. As I watched, the figure turned and stared directly at my window as if he knew I was staring at him.
I felt that odd feeling multiply a hundred times over and pulse throughout my body as I stared into the dark and gaping eyes of that pig mask. I was frozen in horror.
For the rest of the night, he just stood there unmoving staring at me through the small gap in my curtains. I would turn around for a few minutes and try to sleep, but every time I tried to close my eyes that odd feeling would overwhelm me and I would turn back around. And the pig man would still be there, watching me intently.
When I got up for work and got ready, I was terrified to even walk to my car. But when I exited my front door and stepped into the brisk morning, I saw no figure on the porch anymore. And a part of me assumed it was just a bad dream.
It had to have been a bad dream right? A figment of my imagination as the doctor would say. Just like the others. All just figments of my imagination.
January 26th,
It happened again last night, I woke up at around the same time with that same odd feeling that haunted me the night before. I willed myself to turn around and look at my neighbor's lighted porch. But there was nobody there. I sighed with relief and as I laid back down, ready to fall asleep when I noticed a glint of pink in my yard.
The moonlight was reflecting off the pig mask that had petrified me the previous night. And there he was, tall and slender about 30 feet away from my window. And just like the prior night, he stood there and just watched. Never moving, not even twitching. But that night I noticed something different about him. Dangling in his right hand was a large meat cleaver with bloodstains on the blade.
I sat there all night in bed. shaking with the blankets wrapped tightly around me, just hoping he would turn and walk off. But he never did. The only movement I ever saw was a small tilt of the Pig Man’s head which gave him an almost quizzical look.
I really hope this is some kind of a recurring nightmare. I really don’t want to call the cops about this, they’d think I’m fucking crazy. I mean who would really believe a guy ranting and raving about a crazy pig man? I know I wouldn’t. But maybe this isn’t a dream maybe there's a lunatic out there with a pig mask. Maybe for once, I won’t be the crazy one.
January 27th,
I’m starting to think it’s not a nightmare. Last night when I woke up with the odd feeling, I tried to deny it. I tried to ignore it. And I did, for about 3 minutes. Until a rhythmic tapping came from my window.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I turned to look, knowing what I would find. But no less terrified.
I saw the pig man, staring at me with his snout pushed up against my window. His mask was rotted and starting to fall apart but his eyes were still dark and dead. I could hear his deep raspy breathing. The breath came out of the mask's snout and fogged up the window He began tapping his large cleaver lightly on the glass.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A feeling of dread came over me. And my body shut down. I couldn't move. I was just hoping that he'd go away. And he did, After about 2 straight hours of tapping the pig man turned and walked away and into the dark night.
I didn’t sleep last night. I know I should tell someone or see somebody, but I can't. I know that they’ll just look at me like everyone else always has. Like I’m crazy. Like I have a problem. I don’t have a problem. I can’t have a problem. They have a problem. I’m the only sane one here. It’s okay. I’ll be okay. Nobody has to know he’s just a figment. Just a figment. JUST A FIGMENT. JUST A FIGMENT.JUST A FIGMENT.
JUST A FIGMENT!
January 27th, 3:32 am,
He’s here.
The Figment is here.
I can hear his breathing. His heavy footsteps.
I knew I wasn't crazy.
I just heard a snort.
I can hear him approaching.
There's that tapping again.
The Figment was real. And now he’s going to kill me.
If I don’t think about it he’s not there.
He’s in my roo—
And that's where the journal abruptly ended. Amos looked up at Deputy Erickson. “I want a full background check on Miller and a call made to the Greenhaven police department. Tell them we have their pig man.”
Amos closed the journal and walked back to his cruiser. It was a mere three hours before the media was all over the case of the Pig Man. And it gained widespread popularity and infamy.
The Birch Lake Courier
January 29th
In the early morning hours of January 28th, Deputy Erickson responded to the panicked call of three teenagers who were exploring the abandoned house at 703 Park Drive. Upon arriving the deputy found a horrific scene. In a bedroom of the abandoned home, there were two bodies. One was the mutilated body of young Terry Miller. And the other was the body of Mike Wallace, Idaho's now infamous Pig Man, who had committed suicide.
Terr Miller was 24 years old and was a diagnosed schizophrenic who lived alone. According to police reports, he was abducted late on the night of the 28th and taken to the abandoned home on Park Drive. Where his body was horribly mutilated. The exact details of the crime were dubbed “too gruesome to release” by Birch Lake’s sheriff Amos Cooper. But we do know that a journal was recovered from the scene which detailed many encounters with Wallace.
This journal talks about Wallace’s behavior leading up to his final murder. And a transcription has been released and will be available to the public in the library’s archives.
Wallace was pronounced dead on the scene and nobody has heard from his family relating to the unfortunate incident.
In related news, Sheriff Amos has worked diligently with the neighboring town of Greenhaven to raise money for the families of the six victims. And to create a memorial for the victims.
The End.
Written on 01/14/23 by Jacob C.
Published 06/11/24 On RoyalRoad.com