I was originally going to post these stories as a three-part series, but they aren’t all that suspenseful; my intentions were for the reader to read them all together. I think it works better like this. Write your own three short stories like these! Make them all connected to each other. If you want, give yourself a word-limit to make the prompt tougher.
He walked happily in the little pen on the farm down the road. There was a small mud pit to roll around in, a nice hay bed to sleep in, and a fresh supply of food and water. The old farmer acted as if it were an honor to be taken out of the woods. He had lost his mother and father in the process at an early age, but he knew that one day, he would find someone just like her, and be the pig his father would be proud of. He fanaticized about playing with the other pigs in the woods as he listened to them rattling their cages from across the room.
No one saw the bullet coming; it was a perfect shot. Their heads exploded like water balloons. The old farmer used his old M1 religiously. He said a prayer before and after every shot, asking for forgiveness, thanking the Lord for a quick and easy death for the animal. In this case: animals. The shot went clean through the mother’s ears and into the father’s heart. It reminded the old farmer of JFK’s assassination. Their baby, covered in blood and gore, tried to run away, but he was already cut off by the howling dogs.
The pig, now grown up, who’s old enough to understand what really happened to his parents, seems to have finally been given his wish. He assumes the farmer is giving him mercy as he unlocks the gate. For the first time since being captured, the pig is allowed to walk on the grass outside the pen. The young farmer ties the pig to a fence post across the property and stops inside the house to grab something. When he comes out his face looks more grave. His body is more slouched over. The pig, who hadn’t realized before, saw the old farmer’s face in the young man’s. Most pigs don’t realize what’s about to happen, but this one recognizes the M1. The young farmer did a great job maintaining it. He ties the rope tighter, then pulls the trigger.