A screenshot from the video when the lights were briefly on.
Sometime around 2006, I was searching the internet for some pretty sick shit. I was a teenage guy, and this kind of stuff fascinated me and my abnormal interests which disgusted my poor mother. I would stay up for hours into the night, ignoring my homework and wagging school just to scrape up the fucked up videos and images I could view and save to my folders. It would just be me, my snack wrappers, and the light of my beloved computer. Which had taken a fair bashing when I got frustrated.
I was beginning to fall asleep at my cluttered desk when I stumbled across a suspicious looking link on the search page. Due to my heightened curiosity I clicked the link. My computer allowed itself to lag and process the video link which wasn't odd as my computer was pretty old. The link was called "SlaughterHouseFootage.avi" I was pretty pumped to see the unknown video, which probably hadn't been viewed much, or was leaked somehow to the internet. The load bar was slow and frustrating. I got up to get myself an instant coffee to keep myself perked up, to prevent missing the video I was so focused on watching. As I returned with my hot coffee in hand, the video had started. The running time was 3 minutes and 45 seconds. And the Webpage it was on was half assed and near blank. The video was in night vision partially, and the lights would be on for brief parts of the video.
The video was rather poor quality, and lost colour every now and then. It was filmed on a cell phone camera. The video started most likely where the slaughters would take place. The sound was slightly audible, but fuzzy and irritating. The cameraman must have been frightened because the phone camera was very unbalanced, making it hard for me to fully understand the images.
The images cleared up a little, revealing the indoor holding pen and death box. The cameraman zoomed into the pen, showing some rust and stains, along with a few starved horses ready to be killed. The man then backed up and turned his view to the death box, the machinery clanking and beeping, startling me.
As the man walked into the freezers, the skinned bodies on hooks, And the man moving them with his hand. The man's choppy breathing could be heard now, with some static and more machinery noises. For a single frame an image popped up, that looked like a horse that was decapitated. I jumped at the image, but decided to press on. The video glitched up, then skipped to where the majority of horses were held. Loud high pitched noises were emitted from the video at that point. The man approached some of the horses, one of them with it's eye badly gouged the blood and pus clearly visible. Another image shot onto the screen for a nanosecond, that was a horse's organs piled on top of each other, foul and rank looking. I gagged, but being ballsy, still watched the video.
It skipped again to the part where the horses were held up on one hoof and bled out. It was in colour now, and the cameraman poked at the dead and cold horses bodies, taking time to view them carefully. The cameraman jumped and pointed his phone camera on the doorway, the colour fading again. A figure of an overweight man in dirty overalls was just visible, walking closer before the phone was dropped to the floor, static and white noise blaring before the video cut to black.
I shook my head and shut down my computer, going to bed. I couldn't sleep, because I could've fucking sworn I saw the overalls guy out of the corner of my eye. I proceeded to stagger back to my desk, to fetch my flashlight. I shone it out the window, the silence almost unbearable. Nothing could be heard apart from my quiet yet laboured breathing. I was most likely hallucinating, due to the fact that I was currently scared out of my wits. I wanted so desperately to check on my mother, who had gone to bed hours ago, but I was too shaken to leave my room.
I fell backwards onto my bed, the springs creaking. I managed to doze off for a few minutes, waking up in a tepid puddle of my own sweat, and sounds of the ground crumbling from outside, meaning someone was still there or had come back. My cell phone was haphazardly laying on my pillow, and I figured to call police. I attempted dialling 911 but I was interrupted by a blood curdling shriek followed by what I could only describe as sounding like a horse crying out. Mom had been killed most likely, but the hideous neigh was a mystery. I managed to dial 911, waiting in cold and heart wrenching panic under my bed.
Twenty minutes passed, and still no police. I slowly and tentatively started to remove my soaked and trembling body from the safety of the floor under my bed, fumbling for something I could use as a weapon. I snatched my hand back as I heard the squeaking of leather boots. I had never tried to be so silent in my 17 years of life as I did then. My only method of escape was the window, which I didn't hesitate to jump through. I hit the ground hard, but started to sprint for my life. My feet were scuffed and blistered from running so hard, but I ran right into a horse field. You guessed it. They were all dead, heads removed, hoofs cut off, and organs strewn on the grass. I snapped my head around to look behind me. He was there, standing with his arms at his sides, just breathing heavily.
I started sprinting again, my breath becoming shorter and shorter with each pace so fast I swore I was going to break an ankle. I couldn't see him again, but I knew he was following me. I ran so hard, until I finally collapsed into a storm drain, vomiting violently from my strenuous run for my life. I pulled my legs to my chest, sobbing quietly. I clenched my teeth, hating myself for clicking the link and allowing my own mother to be killed so horrendously. Once I decided I needed to start running again, I felt something cold and of odd texture behind me. A severed head of a horse was behind me the whole time, drenched in my stale and sticky load of vomit I had expelled from my body before.
I threw my body from the storm drain and ran again, forcing back tears of pain and anguish. My ears were ringing, and I could hear the sound of the man screaming with rage that I had made it this far. I pushed my injured feet over broken sticks and potholes, falling into one. The man keeled over near me, forcing his blood stained butcher knife an inch from my side. His breath was foul and his face was demented and oozing with an unidentified black ooze. He bellowed and attempted to bite my leg, only for me to free myself and actually get to a police station. They said I was mentally unstable, but had found my mother slaughtered brutally, along with a trail of dead horses in the backyard. I moved away from my town, bought a new computer, and took medication to ease the effects of the trauma from that day. If you see a suspicious link, don't click it. Also, run if you see a man in overalls. You may not be as lucky as me and escape.