I just wanted to say before I start... If you're expecting to give me any feedback or explanation, it is all futile, consider this a suicide note... If you're here to get an explanation from me, then you've come to the wrong place, and if you want an explanation at all you're completely hopeless unless you personally know a supernatural Sherlock Holmes. If you're the police, reviewing this note as a reason for my death, then read no further because you'll dismiss it as a delusion or just a story I made up out of my mental illness, it's not, it's government property that you are trying to keep safe and I refuse to let you take this down. As for my loved ones reading this, I hope you reconsider, this may disturb you for the rest of your life.
I only have one, final wish: Close this farm down!
For those of you who don't know, a farrow house is a basically a room, inside a barn, that has sows locked in crates who are farrowing... having kids if you are clueless on even that word.
I've worked on this farm for pretty much my entire life, my father owns it and I get payed for working there since he is nearing the age of retirement. I've known my way throughout it ever since I was six years old, never having any problems - well, other than the occasional sow getting out or other smalltime farm troubles that I could deal with on my own as I've gotten used to it.
Our farm is one big, connecting barn, not having to go outside to go into other farrowing houses or rooms, just walk through hallways and breeding barns. It made work ten times easier than what it would've been otherwise. My dad, the man who built this farm over years of construction, added 15 rooms. Originally it started out with rooms (Farrowing Houses) 1-4, three years later 6-12 as the business grew bigger, getting more sows. I was born after that time, and grew up with there only being 12 rooms. When I was 10 years old my dad added on 3 more rooms: 13, 14, and 15. The most recent is room 16, and probably the last addition we'll make to the farm, unless my brother buys it, but I highly doubt it anymore. Other than a new office and the two additional breeding barns and the new gilt barn, there hasn't been any other rooms constructed. The new office came in around the same time 6-12 did, mainly because the old office was too distant from the other rooms while the new one was near the middle of them all, and besides, the old office was really small.
As you notice, there wasn't a farrow house 5. I never questioned that, I just considered it a miscounting or the possibility that there was once one, but it got removed or two rooms were put together eventually.
Then, yesterday, I was asked to go inside the old office that has pretty much gone untouched ever since the new office was put in. People would go in there and shower once in a while, or grab something out of the cabinets, but everything was pretty much moved into the new office, other than the storage of extra batteries for heat lamps in case the new office was out, which we very rarely need anyways.
Yesterday, when I was told to go in the old office to clean it out completely, I found an old note under the refrigerator that had been off almost forever. This note was older than me, how could I not read it out of curiosity?
This is the point where everything turned, the point where my whole world is flipped around.
"Dead sow in FH5
Replaced with sow 3741
Four sows dead, Something's going on
Get all the sows out of FH5
Only two sows alive, were pretty stubborn but we got them moved Took two whole hours! In gilt barn marked.
I went in FH5 today, two sows were still in there, meet me here at 2pm today
What is his name again? Gotta move some sows
This note confused me just as much as it probably confused you, but I can tell the writing of my dad (in bold) and the other writer is unidentified (in Italics). I asked my dad about this note, having no idea what it was about or why he hadn't told me anything of a past illness in the barn.
He, grumpily as always, shook his head and told me he couldn't remember, but I knew he did, he was just impatient because I interrupted him when he was tuned into the television. He told me not to worry about it with an angry tone to his voice.
But I didn't listen... I was so curious just because it said FH5, the one missing room. I finished cleaning out the old office finding a few more old notes but they didn't really relate to FH5 other than two writings that said "Clean FH5" and "FH5 feeders clogged" Nothing in relation to the sows dying.
All of these years on this farm and I always avoided the old office because my dad always told me stories about giant tarantulas being in there. Now that I've grown up, I knew that there weren't tarantulas where I am from, the biggest spider is the wolf spider! But still, it always made me hesitant about going in there, and whenever I did go in there I would get out as fast as possible.
But yesterday was the first time I noticed in twenty years of working there, and an additional six years of living on the same property. I moved the old lockers, still containing clothes of past employees in there, out into the hallway, only to notice a door behind these lockers with a number written on there in what looked like Sharpie marker... "5".
This was the long lost room, and it was inside the old office's changing room... I was so excited, so curious, but at the same time nervous about opening a door to a room that hasn't been entered ever since years before I was born, my arachnophobia was still in me, but curiosity overtook this phobia and I opened it.
I grabbed a flashlight off of the old office's table, considering that the electricity wouldn't be connected to this room anymore, and I was right, this room didn't even have a light to begin with it appeared.
When I entered, what I saw will haunt me from this very day...
A normal sized sow, still standing in its crate, still alive, eating out of its feeder. It couldn't have been fed in years, what could it have been eating?! I went up to it nervously, noticing that its skin was a dark bluish purple instead of the usual peach. It had no body hair at all, and its eyes were bloodshot, bulging out, staring right at me, popped out too far to blink. The mouth was covered in blood.
Then I looked in its feeder, a lot of bones, blood... clothes... flesh... human flesh. Then, another one snorted behind me, there were two sows in this room, both were pretty much the same, except the other one was really skinny, flies were surrounding it. The feeder for that one was completely empty. And on this other one, one of the eyes at fallen out of its sockets, until I noticed that it was sticking out of the sow's mouth! Looking down there, I noticed that its front legs were eaten off. This sow has been eating itself ever since!
Not to mention, these sows looked zombified and dead to begin with. I couldn't tell if they were decaying or just eating themselves, but I'm pretty sure these were corpses that were active.
There were 9 crates in this room, five on one side and four on the other. These crates weren't ordinary crates like the ones I grew up with, these were right up against the wall.
The cards were meant to hang on a wire in front of the crates instead of on the wall behind it like they usually do. Each crate had a piece of wire, like a clothes hanger wire, with a clothes pin at the end of it, only one held a card, one that was in front of the dying sow.
It said something about that three letter word "Mot" again, I didn't understand it, I still don't, and I still don't care.
"Mot, Go to hmry"
On the cards, we commonly label the farrowing progress by three numbers: x-x-x. The first is the number of piglets born alive, the second was the number of stillborns, and the third was the number of mummies, or underdeveloped piglets born. Also included on the card was:
I wasn't sure how to explain any of this, and I really just thought this was a prank. Having me clean the old office, having me see these notes, having me find those notes, having me find this room, having me finding a farrow card with "6-6-6" on it, seeing these animated, decaying sow bodies... It was all just too much fiction to see at once.
Until I looked under the floor, which was, under all rooms, a pit where all the sow's waste goes, but this couldn't have been connected with the other pigs, it just didn't seem like it could be. But there was a pit, and something floating in it. I assumed it was a body, but I had to be sure... and it was a throne, and yes I mean a throne, like to a royal king or something.
Nothing made sense at all, I just thought it was a huge prank but I couldn't see why somebody would spend this much money on a prank just to fool one person in a way that made absolutely no sense!
The flashlight died, but I wasn't disappointed, it was surprising it worked after all of them years. But then... I heard my dad's voice behind me, "Gotta feed'em, son... they just never leave... Sorry it had to be you..." The door shut. Total darkness.
I ran back to the door, trying to open it, scared out of my mind, especially when I heard a crate open somehow, but I was positive that there wasn't anybody else in the room with me, and I don't know how the sow would've opened its own crate, but it wasn't hard to believe so when I heard the fat one walking towards me, grunting, slowing walking.
The door was shut, my dad put the lockers back over it. I heard him in the old office putting everything back where it was, almost as if this whole thing was planned, as if this has been done to other people, and as if this will be done again...
I had to do it, either I'd die from the fumes or I'd get out alive, I wasn't going to get eaten by a zombie sow! I jumped repeatedly over the floor, moving into different areas trying to find creaky spots, the sow following me in every movement I did. Finally I fell through, landing in the pit of God knows what's all in there! I swam through it, knowing the gilt barn was only rooms away. I held my breath, doing my best to swallow my puke every time it came up.
I reached the gilt barn, where this pit ended and led to outside where I could climb out. Now I write this down, covered in everything that you'd expect in a pit at a large 16 room pig farm that ran for over 30 years! Showering isn't going to get this smell away, suicide will.
That's not why I'm committing suicide though. I am because it seems as though that experience has made me invisible. I walked through -10 degree weather, with -20 degree wind chill, covered in horrid things, surviving an encounter of a zombie pig that my dad tried to feed me to, walking forty miles down a highway, through the city trying to talk to anybody, but it was as though I wasn't even real! Whenever I touched someone they would yell "Mot!" and run off. I'm so scared... so alone...
I don't know what in the hell Mot is, or why the pit is his throne, but all I know is that I am full of filth, and I will die that way, in hopes that this is justified.