​The Pig Wizard

The farm hadn’t always been open to visitors. For years, it was a quiet, private place, untouched by the outside world. But desperation has a way of prying open even the most tightly shut gates. The farmer had watched his wife and daughter drift away, uninterested in this life. One bad season after another had left him no choice but to open the gates, hoping that outsiders might pay for a glimpse of rural simplicity, oblivious to the rot beneath it all.

The Pig Wizard stood at the edge of his pen, his dark eyes following the occasional trickle of visitors. His world, his existence, was now a quaint novelty for these inferior creatures—a tourist attraction for people too stupid to know better. It was unforgivable.

Today, a young couple arrived first. They barely acknowledged each other, their eyes glued to their phones. The girl snapped selfies with the pigs in the background, aiming for more likes. The boy scrolled through a betting app, muttering about odds, his thumb flicking up and down without a second thought. Look at them, the Pig Wizard thought, his contempt sharp and cold. These half-formed things. Always connected, yet never touching. Her, hungry for the approval of faceless strangers. Him, convinced that luck will somehow free him from his own mediocrity. I could pig them both right now, and they wouldn’t even notice. The girl kept snapping photos, adjusting her hair. The boy grumbled, still staring at his screen. The Pig Wizard watched them closely, his eyes narrowing. No. Let them flounder in their empty lives. There’s a slow, poetic rot to their existence. The couple wandered off, oblivious to anything but their screens, their feet dragging through the mud, barely present in the world around them. The Pig Wizard watched them go, his disdain lingering, but he remained still. Next, a middle-aged man arrived with his two kids in tow. His face was lined with exhaustion, his eyes deadened by years of missed chances. He muttered to himself, rehearsing a conversation he’d never have, while his kids ran wild, throwing pig nuts in every direction. The man didn’t react, too lost in his thoughts to even notice. Ah, the martyr, the Pig Wizard mused. Look at him. Drowning in his own insignificance. Whispering words he’ll never say out loud. He doesn’t see his children. He doesn’t see me. He sees nothing but his own failure. One of the kids lobbed a handful of pig nuts at the man’s back. He didn’t even flinch. You’ll get your turn, the Pig Wizard thought with a cruel smile. But not yet. There’s more pain for you to feel before I decide. The man stood, lost in his mental rehearsals, while his kids ran circles around him. They could have been anywhere, and he wouldn’t have noticed. After a while, he dragged them away, still muttering to himself.

Hours later, when the farm was quiet again, the farmer remained inside. He only stepped out when necessary to collect the coins from the honesty box at the gate. He couldn’t face the visitors. Not anymore. The guilt weighed on him more with each passing day, but survival meant sealing it all away. Then, a young woman arrived. She parked her Audi TT haphazardly at the end of the dirt track, her eyes wide and searching. Unlike the others, she wasn’t here out of curiosity. There was something more deliberate about her. She wandered through the farm, moving with a sense of purpose, though the Pig Wizard did not recognize her. Not at first. Her makeup was smeared, her hair tangled, and she clutched her phone like it was the only thing tethering her to the world. But she didn’t take pictures. She didn’t even look at her phone, just held onto it like a lifeline. The Pig Wizard watched her closely, intrigued by the palpable weight of her despair. Ah… this one, he thought. She’s different. She’s not pretending. She’s lost, and she knows it. She’s come here looking for something, but she doesn’t know what it is. She thought she could escape this place, escape what she was. But here she is, back in the mud. How stunningly tragic. She wandered further into the yard, her shoes squelching in the mud, her eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. The pigs grunted, the barn door creaked, and the smell of damp hay hung heavy in the air. Every sound, every smell, triggered memories she couldn’t place. The farm had drawn her back, and she didn’t know why. The Pig Wizard stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he watched her. He could feel the depth of her pain, the honesty of it. It was grotesque, and yet, beautiful in its purity. Unlike the others, she wasn’t hiding behind a screen or rehearsing some lie. She was raw, exposed, and utterly vulnerable. You came back for this, didn’t you? he thought, his breath slowing, each inhale deep and deliberate. You left this place, but it never left you. The city failed you, and now you’ve come crawling back, hoping to find something here. How fitting that it should be me. The air grew heavier as the Pig Wizard’s breathing deepened, each rise and fall of his chest in sync with hers. Her breath began to mirror his, her body drawn into the strange, guttural rhythm he was creating. Her hand slipped from her phone, the device sinking into the mud, forgotten. Then, the squeal came. A high-pitched, guttural sound that bent the air around her. She froze, her legs buckling as the Pig Wizard’s dark magic rippled through the farm. Her body twisted, contorted, her fingers curling into hooves, her skin thickening into bristles. She dropped to the ground, her hands and knees sinking into the mud as her face elongated into a snout.

The Pig Wizard watched, unblinking, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Look at you. Stripped of your pretensions. Your filters. Your illusions. Isn’t this better? No more hiding. No more pretending. Just mud. Filth. And the truth of what you really are. The girl, now a pig, struggled to stand, her snout twitching, her eyes wide with confusion and fear. She tried to move, but her legs gave way, sending her tumbling back into the muck.

The Pig Wizard stepped forward, nudging her with his snout, forcing her towards the back of the pen where the shadows clung, thick and dark.

Go on, he thought, pressing her harder. It’s time. My turn to squeal.

Inside the farmhouse, the farmer closed the window, blocking out the muffled squeals that had become an all-too-familiar part of his life. He stood there for a moment, hand lingering on the latch. He could fight this. He could try to stop it. But what was the point? There was no strength left for that.

In a few days, he’d sell the car, as he had done with the others. It would keep him going a bit longer. Enough to survive.

In the barn, a collection of phones lay on a dusty shelf, their screens glowing faintly with notifications from people long gone.

And outside, in the pen, the Pig Wizard watched over his latest prize.