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         I woke up to the sound of rattling chains. And then, a short but loud crushing sound. It woke me up fast. Bleary eyed, I looked around the room, trying to figure out where the hell I was. I remembered opening the door to the farmhouse, Rebecca and I splitting up, but that’s about it. I did vaguely remember something metallic...before I blacked out. I need to find Rebecca, and call the police. I got up, joints cracking, and looked around the room for a phone. I could make out a broken chair in the corner, some pictures on the walls and one lone table in the middle of the room. I tried the door but it was locked, and that’s when I heard the first thumping sound. In steady increments, the thumping got louder, louder, each thump sending shivers down my spine. I was backing up from the door, whatever was making the noise was coming closer, as the thumping got louder. The thumping abruptly ceased, and the dim light that was coming through the bottom of the door partly faded. Not completely, just half of the light went away, like something was blocking it. The door handle turned silently. My breath caught in my throat, and I froze. The door pulled slightly outward in the door frame, but it was still locked. Suddenly the door handle started jiggling violently, and the door was being shook from the outside. Something wanted to get in. When the door settled, the thumping started again, getting increasingly quieter this time. After about ten minutes, I decided it was safe to move around again. I can’t remember the last time I was this scared. Trying to get a clue about where exactly I was, I looked at the pictures on the wall. I saw one with a balding man standing proudly, with his hands on a boy’s shoulders that was standing in front of the man. Maybe these people lived here at some point? The next picture was the same boy from the last picture, maybe slightly older, standing on the porch of a house. I recognised that porch, it had very unique looking columns that held a decorative roof. That was the house Rebecca and I went into. Was I still in that house? I turned my head to the third picture on the wall. It looked like a bowl with some sort of assortment of fruit or - Oh my god. It wasn’t fruit. It was a guy. Jesus, a guy was in the background of the picture...cut open. I wanted to vomit, but I was so shocked I couldn’t move. This picture… did this confirm those stories? The cannibalism stories? I needed to keep this picture to show the police. The man’s insides were in a bowl, like an assortment of fruits…god, it was framed and everything! What the hell… I smashed the frame on the ground and took the picture out, folding it into my pocket. I needed to get out of this room.
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         My head was pounding. It was like someone strapped a jackhammer on my skull. I hadn’t heard the footsteps in a while, so I decided it was safe to get out. I pushed against the door of the armoire and stepped out. I listened for a bit, heard nothing and continued down the hall. My goal was to find Shaun and get out of this hell hole. As I crept along the decrepit wall, I heard very strange sounds; rattling chains, more thumping, glass shattering. Someone else was definitely in this place with me. I came to a staircase, going up. To my left was what used to be a kitchen, from what I could tell. There was a discolored refrigerator, door ajar, a very grimy countertop/sink combo, and an old gas stove. The oven door was missing. I went into the kitchen, the floorboards creaking with every step. I tried a few of the cupboard drawers, but they were empty and one was locked. The stench was getting increasingly nauseating. It was coming from the fridge. I glanced at it, and saw something seeping out of the door. I decided to go back, up the stairs. It was darker in the stairwell, and even darker when I reached the top. It must have been an attic or something, I could smell mold and there was a thick layer of dust on a table I bumped into. I still had my camera strapped around my neck, so I tried using the flash to see where I was going. I pressed the button, and the blinding light lit up the room for half a second. I didn’t really see anything though, just walls on both sides of me. I was in a corridor. I walked forward and came to a door, so I opened it. Another flash revealed an old chest against the wall opposite me. Curiosity got the better of me. I also thought there might be some evidence about the family for my story. I felt my way to the chest, and unhinged the lock. As I opened it, there seemed to be light pouring out of it. Blinding, very warm, almost hot, light. My eyes had to adjust, and when they did, I screamed. It was a child. Skinned, but alive. It couldn’t have been more than a year old. It’s skin was just a wet lump next to the infant. I was still screaming when I looked at the lightbulb that was wired into the top of the chest. The light was intense, even as far away as I was from it. The light would beat down on the infant when the chest was closed. I felt sick. I turned and lunged for the door, but I couldn’t find it. Not even when I used the flash on my camera. I assumed I was going crazy, so I began telling myself things I knew were true: My name is Rebecca Steiner, I am twenty-seven years old, I am a freelance journalist, I am in the old Solomon farmhouse, I came with my boyfriend Shaun Cullingham, I came to follow up on cannibalistic rumors…
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         Rebecca! I was whispering, Rebecca! Can you hear me? I heard nothing but my own heartbeat. I was in the basement, at least I thought I was. It was damp, and the walls felt like concrete or stone. I heard a rattling sound behind me every so often, but when I looked, I saw nothing. It wouldn’t make much difference anyway, I saw nothing in front of me too. I suddenly heard a faint scream from upstairs. It sounded like Rebecca. I shouted, Rebecca! and I turned and ran. Ran straight into something solid, but warm. I fell to the ground, and I heard a sort of deep, grumbling chuckle. Then I saw something shiny, slowly rising up-
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         I managed to find a basement. I’m not sure how, I feel like I lost consciousness for a bit, but I did. And I figured it was as good a place to look for Shaun as any in this house. My camera was almost out of battery, I was using the night vision mode on it. I forgot it had that. I could see metal shelves that were positioned so they made a sort of narrow passage forward, and on those shelves were various farm tools; sickles, hay hooks, rakes, and other hook-like things. Eventually, I got out of the shelf hallway, and entered a fairly open room covered in blood. The stench was unspeakable. There were dead pigs on the ground, guts spilling out. There was a rotting cow head and a goat hanging from meat hooks. I looked around trying not to vomit, and froze when I saw a shirt hanging from one. The shirt had pants. The pants had shoes. The clothes had a body. Someone was hanging from a meat hook. I was petrified, but something was pulling me towards the body. I needed a shot of the person, for the story, for proof. My eyes were glued to the camera screen, which showed a poor quality figure hanging from a hook. When I got to the body, I looked up from the camera. I could barely see it, but I grabbed it by the shoulders, and pulled up with all my strength. I heard a squishing sound, then a rip, and finally a sound that resembled a suction cup. The body fell. I slowly aimed the camera at the corpse, and that’s when I threw up. It was a man, his right eye was popped out, hanging from the optic nerves, his left eye was white. His nose was wet with blood, but his mouth was the worst part. That’s where the meat hook pierced. His bottom jaw was missing. The teeth that were still in his upper jaw were chipped and crooked. Congealed blood covered his neck, and his tongue hung loosely from the gaping wound. Looking again, I was almost sure it was Shaun. He was wearing the same clothes. I tried to cry, tried to be sad. All I could do was vomit and wish I was somewhere else. Over the sound of myself puking, I heard heavy footsteps drawing nearer. Then a deep, bellowing voice; There you are, little pig.
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