Feeding Time

Inherited grandpa's farm last spring. Two hundred acres and a barn full of pigs. Thought I'd finally caught a break... Make an honest living, Work the land like he did. The pigs were well-fed when I arrived. Something's wrong with them though, They bite at me through the fence. Tried different feed, Tried everything the co-op recommended, Nothing works. They just get more aggressive, Like they're expecting something else. Black car pulled up the drive Tuesday, Man in a suit asking for my grandfather. I told him grandpa passed. He looked at me for a long time... Then asked if I planned to keep the farm running... I said yes. He didn't explain much, Just said he'd be by once a month, Maybe twice, Always at night. Left an envelope on the kitchen table, More money than I'd see in a year selling pork. I didn't ask questions... First time they came at midnight. Heard the truck backing up to the barn, Heard voices, Heard the pigs go wild, Heard things I can't describe, I stayed in the house... Can't sleep anymore... Every sound from the barn... Every car on the road... The envelope comes regular now... Sits on my counter... I can't touch it... Can't give it back... Can't leave. Curiosity got the better of me last week, Went to the barn after they'd gone, Opened the door... The smell hit me first... Then I saw, Oh god I saw, I can't unsee it! The pigs are old... Too old... Livestock doesn't live this long. But grandpa's did... For thirty years grandpa ran this farm. Thirty years of envelopes, Thirty years of midnight trucks, This was always the farm. I'm in it now... Can't go to the police... I've taken the money... I've looked away... I've kept the pigs fed... Fat. Another car coming up the drive, It's almost midnight, The pigs are waiting... I know the sounds that are coming... I'll stay in the house... Count the money I can't spend. And try not to dream... ...it's feeding time.