Little Pig

A Lights Out Story

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Today’s story is, “Little Pig,” the fifth in Kindling’s first ever short story collection, Lights Out. Inspired by folk horror and mythology, this collection of short stories will explore the unknown, the consequences of touching the forbidden, and the mysteries that lurk in the dark, unexplored places of the world.

Inspired by my early exposure to horror, dark sci-fi and dark fantasy through anthologies and collections such as, Scary Stories To Tell in the Dark, The Illustrated Man, The Twilight Zone, and Tales From the Crypt.

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  how are you little pig?
  you nervous about tonight?

        Yes

  Keep me up to date!

         i will

  send a pic 

  so I know how to describe him to police lol

         Ursa!

  WHAT!!!

         That’s not funny!!!

  i know. im not kidding

---

She was laughing. She couldn’t believe it. He was actually funny. Handsome too.

  so???

         its good!

  yay! does he look as good as his picture?

         …better

  girl!

“Who are you texting?” she looked up, a little embarrassed that he had caught her.

“Oh,” she set the phone down on her lap, “just my friend.”

“What’s her name?”

“Ursa.”

“Unique. Only known one in my life.” His smile faltered at a memory, then he beamed at her. His teeth were white, all perfect except one, a snaggletooth that made him more desirable. Something real in all that god-likeness.

The phone buzzed. She cut it off, but he glanced down, trying to see through the wooden table to her legs where it sat.

“Are you talking about me?” It buzzed again.

She thought of what to say, how to play this off. No—too cutting. Short and overly sure. Flirty. That could work.

“Maybe.”

He grinned, and placed his fork in his mouth. She watched his pink tongue for a moment before he closed and chewed. His eyes met hers. “All good things I hope.”

“Maybe.”

He pursed his lips in fake disappointment. Her heart fluttered. Was she…swooning? The phone buzzed again. “I’m so sorry. Just let me respond to this and then I’ll turn it off.”

  you better snd a pic!!!!

  and not for the police. just for me…

  but maybe also the police…don’t go home with him!!!

         lol

         i might go home with him…

         not that he asked but…

  Mira…come on! you just met him!

“Okay, done,” she said, before she swiped up, and hit the sleepy ‘Do Not Disturb’ setting.

“Do you want another drink?” he asked, but instead of waiting for her to answer, he raised his hand in the air and signaled the server.

“I guess one more couldn’t hurt.”

---

It hadn’t taken convincing, going to his apartment. They were both drunk. Neither could drive. An Uber made sense. Why not share one? And then, once they were in, the obvious choice. Why go home? They were enjoying one another’s company. Why not keep the fun going in a more intimate setting?

“You’re not nervous for me to know where you live?”

He looked over at her, one eye cocked in fake suspicion. “No. Why? Should I be?”

“Of course not. But you don’t know that.”

"I guess I don’t. Driver—” he sat forward, and she pulled him back.

“OMG! Stop!”

“What!”

They both laughed. The driver caught her eyes in the mirror for a second, then focused back on the road. He looked tired from nights of driving drunks around the city. Normally she would have seen the expression and toned it down, but it only made her laugh harder.

“Seriously though, true stories now. Have you ever had a weird experience with online dating?” she smiled, watching his eyes.

He looked up at the ceiling, then back at her. “Only….once.”

“Yeah? Okay, tell me about it.” She leaned in, her hands under her chin, play acting sincere listening.

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

He let out a sigh, “Okay, but get ready. This girl was crazy.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

He smiled, but something black flashed in his eyes before disappearing in the twinkling reflection of orange street lights.

“We had an okay date. Even went back to her apartment.” She shifted, and he put a hand on her bare thigh. His fingers felt warm, unbelievably soft, distinguished against the rough pad of his palm and the bases of each finger. She tried not to move, not to give away a hint of hunger or disgust, to just be. “It was just for a drink,” and that being settled, he went on. “When I tried to leave she was upset. I guess she thought something more was going to happen?”

“You poor thing.”

“Anyways,” he chuckled, “I left it at that. Shot her a text the next morning, told her I had a great time but I didn’t feel any chemistry. And she lost her mind.”

“What do you mean?”

“Called me fifteen or twenty times right after I sent it, then texted all this crazy stuff about what a horrible guy I was, how I led her on, blah, blah, blah. That’s not the end though. She found out where I lived.”

“How?”

“Only thing I could think was that she must have followed me when I left.”

“Ew!”

“I know. I ended up having to change my phone number. Then I had to move. It went on for months.”

“What did you do?”

“Finally I had enough, you know? I was exhausted from dealing with her. I decided to give her a taste of her own medicine.”

“Like how?”

“I found out where she lived. She had moved, probably to avoid being served for my restraining order,” he said, and a smile crept across his face, remembering.

She waited a few moments, watching his face light up with some unknown thought. “And—"

“I told the bitch if she didn’t stop, I would kill her.”

His smile faded, his face changed, cold and without expression. A prickle unfurled the hairs on the back of Mira’s neck.

“And she stopped?”

He let out a breath and chuckled, “No. Of course not. You can’t fix crazy. She knew I was bluffing. No, in the end, I decided to move. Found a job here. Put that shit behind me.”

“Wow. I’ve had my share of weirdos, but I think you win.”

“I always do.”

They both laughed, and she let the creeping feeling in her gut slide down inside of her, and grow dark and warm until it faded to black.

---

The apartment was simple, but tidy, different from the scores of other guys she had met up with. Most of them could play nice, but when you got to their place? You would find out they were complete slobs. There were no dishes in the sink, the trash had been taken out, and the man had throw pillows on his couch.

She looked to make sure he wasn’t back from the bathroom, then pulled out her phone to snap a picture.

Girl, look at this! Throw pillows!!!

you should leave

y?

i told you NOT to go there

She sighed and put the phone back in her purse, then walked to the refrigerator to stare at the few pictures that were held there by magnets. He stood, posed in various tropical settings. Palm trees in one, a pink umbrellaed drink in his hand. A blue ocean in another, stretching on for miles, broken only by white shore. She leaned in, hand on the door handle to balance herself.

“What are you doing?”

She jumped. He had come around the corner from the bathroom so quietly she hadn’t noticed him. The floors were wood, and creaked easily underfoot. Had he been sneaking? No. He lives here. He knows how to step to avoid those sounds.

“Just looking at your pictures. You really like the beach huh?”

He stared and nodded, glancing at her hand, then back at her face. “Don’t open that.”

She looked down at her hand, grasped tightly on the refrigerator door, then let go, giggling and embarrassed. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to—”

“It’s fine,” he said, the smile back. The switch put a knot in her stomach, and she reached into her purse to feel for her phone. A rounded plastic edge met her fingertips. “You want anything to drink?”

Her head swirled from the cocktails at the restaurant, the buzz that convinced her it was a good idea to come over worn off just enough for her to see the predicament she was in if things turned sour. His face in the car, that strange dead-eyed look when he talked about his stalker. “No thanks. Water’s fine.”

“Have a seat,” he said, throwing ice from the freezer into a glass. She obeyed, walking to the couch, sinking into cool leather. Her legs would stick to it when she stood up. She tucked her dress beneath her legs, a barrier between herself and the material. She pulled out her phone and clicked on the messages.

  where does he live???

  you better text me back

  or im calling the cops

  seriously. im freaking out!

  MIRA

  address or else

         I’m fine! 

         location incoming lol

  about time!

         Sorry!

She dropped the pin and set the phone down. He was coming over with two glasses of ice water.

“Everything okay?”

“Oh yeah. It’s just Ursa.”

He stopped and looked at her before setting her glass on the coffee table in front of her. “You know, it’s not polite to be on your phone on a first date.”

She nodded, studying him. His eyes were black holes that stared through her, seeing some other world as he spoke. “I’m sorry.”

“Hand it over,” he said, his hand outstretched, the wet condensation from the glass reflecting the soft lamp light from the room.

“What?” Her eyes stayed on him, but she studied the apartment in her periphery. What would it take to get out of here? Could she do it in a way that didn’t make him suspect anything? “I think I need some fresh air.”

“It’s cold out.” He breathed in deep, taking in her stillness, the steadiness of that gaze. He let his hand fall heavily to his side, and she flinched at the little slapping sound it made against his jeans. “I’m sorry,” he said, and laughed a little.

His eyes were different again, back to the deep brown pools that had drawn her to him earlier in the night. What was it that she had heard about Ted Bundy? What about his eyes?

“Truth be told Mira, I have had a tough time dating again.”

Her phone sat within reach. Could she grab it without him seeing? He stepped towards her. If she stood, he could push her down. With her head swimming the way it was she might fall on her own.

You really did it this time. You should have listened! How many true crime podcasts could one girl consume? And none of it had mattered. When the wolf came to her door, he hadn’t had to push or shove. No alarm system would have helped. No, she had left the door unlocked, and invited him in for a drink. Easy.

—not true this isnt over yet you can still do something at least go down with a fight the door is to your left down a short hallway just off the kitchen the bathroom is further but if you take him by surprise make a run for it you might have a chance—

“Can I use your restroom?”

His eyes twinkled back into the present, like he had been pulled from some misty memory. “Of course. Of course. Right down the hall.”

He stepped to her left, blocking the straight shot she had to the kitchen, the hallway, the front door. She smiled up at him, and walked as steadily as she could towards the other hallway opposite the kitchen. This one was dark, a mystery. It led to the back of the apartment. A bathroom, at least one bedroom. She pictured his closet, and an investigator from some true crime doc spoke in her mind.

“When we opened the closet, we found numerous strands of rope, duct tape, zip ties, and a package of razor blades. The package was open, and some of them had been removed.”

Her legs felt weak. She opened the bathroom door, and slammed it shut it behind her.

“You okay?” he called from the living room.

“Just fine,” she stammered, throwing in a nervous giggle at the end. “Just a little drunk is all.”

Think, think, think. Come on girly. Get your shit together. How do we do this?

—he cant know that you know—

Right.

—as soon as he thinks you suspect something he’ll make sure you stay—

So…

—so that means you have to play the dumb drunk girl the one who cant wait to listen to him ramble about his failed past relationships and his bad time dating the one who will slip him some tongue and maybe more if he plays his cards right—

She scoffed, disgusted at the thought of it. The last time she had played that card had been at a college party. She was drunk, and so was the guy from her biology class.

—you dont say his name—

“No,” she said out loud. He was too handsy for her, but the more she resisted, the more excited he looked. She shook her head, and pushed the memory of him away. “Not again. Not fucking ever.”

—suit yourself—

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The way you got out of things like this was instinct.

—honey instinct was thirty minutes ago in the uber when his eyes started to look like a sharks—

That didn’t help now. No time to worry about what could have been. She had to work with now. She let herself come into her body. She had read somewhere that fear was honed over millions of years of evolution. Politeness and social norms got you killed when you were dealing with a predator. To get out of a bad situation, you didn’t need to think. All you had to do was feel.

Run

That was it. The feeling underneath the clamor of her own mind. Get the fuck out, and get out now. She kicked off her heels, opened the bathroom door, and followed it.

---

He stood at the door and watched her go, smooth legs pumping as she rounded the corner and practically leaped down the stairs. His mouth hung open, unable to make sense of what had just happened. He had really blown this one. He shut it, and turned in the little hallway, staring at the nearly bare apartment. He had only moved in a few months earlier. Dating had been the last thing on his mind at first, but the loneliness of a new city and no friends had finally gotten him.

“You moved too fast. That was the first mistake.” He let out a heavy sigh, and looked down at the black socks on his feet.

His therapist had told him to take things slow, that he might be triggered by his past. Taking the dating step was necessary, yes. But it could start out fun, easy even. He dreaded the thought of telling her how the evening had unfolded.

“Yeah, it went something like this. She texted through the date, a friend she claimed, and guess what? Same name as my stalker! What are the chances?”

He had scared her no doubt. The lorazepam in the bathroom had helped take the edge off, but the phone—why had he asked her for the phone? A buzz went off in the living room. He rounded the corner slowly, and saw it was still there. Mira’s phone sat on the couch arm, the screen lit up with a notification.

“Great,” he sighed. That meant he would have to see her again. Should he explain himself? Would she even be willing to meet? “Next time, don’t talk about your stalker on a first date.”

He was disgusted with himself, imagining how she would tell this story to all her friends and family in the coming weeks. “No, seriously, the guy almost murdered me! He asked for my phone, so I did the only thing I could do. I ran.”

He picked up her phone. Another text message, no doubt from a friend checking to see if she was okay. Women did that for each other. Men? Not so much. He saw the message on the locked screen and put a hand to his chest to steady his racing heart.

Ursa <3                   1m ago
on my way

It was strange, the heart there after the name. What were the chances? He could feel panic creeping in again in spite of the meds. He repeated his mantra.

“You are safe. This is a new city. You are safe. You have a new job.”

There wasn’t a single shred of evidence online. There was no way she could have found him.

Except for the dating app.

He hadn’t used his full name. He wasn’t that stupid. What were the chances? Ursa put her number in his phone on that first date, stuck the stupid heart next to her name, and flashed feral eyes at him before smiling. The phone buzzed again.

Ursa <3                   Now
here

A knock at the door, three times in slow succession. He walked slowly, his breaths shallow and shuddering. The door was locked. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead and palms as he approached the door. He looked through the tiny peephole. Nothing, except the distorted stretch of hallway. The phone buzzed in his hand again. He closed his eyes for a few seconds before reading it.

Ursa <3                   Now        
little pig little pig let me come in

“Shit,” he whispered, then looked out again. Someone was at the end of the hallway, just before the steps. He squinted. It was a woman, wearing a white dress, a spatter of deep red flowers painted across it. Sweat dripped into his eyes and he wiped it against his sleeve.

He peered out again. It was dark until she pulled back, away from the door and into view. Her hair was different, cropped short and dyed blonde, but the eyes gave her away. That wild look, an animal transformed by some dark magic, was unmistakable. She smiled, her face speckled with the same red as her dress. The phone buzzed again.

Ursa <3                   Now
time to blow the house in <3 <3 <3