Get Rid of the Pig Cup!

“Write a short story that begins with the line ‘Things had been getting stranger and stranger ever since Fred brought that  pig cup home.” 

Things have been getting stranger and stranger ever since Fred brought that pig cup home.

I mean, when he first brought it in through the door to the flat he had claimed how he’d found it in a market and that it was the best find there! Which is strange, how you ask? Well! A) Fred never goes to the market, and B) Ever since Fred’s girlfriend showed him the films Babe and Charlotte’s Web, he’s been obsessed with pigs! It’s getting a little out of hand, and that’s coming from everyone else in this flat, not just me.

Fred keeps the ceramic pig cup in his room, and has it on his chest of drawers staring at him while he sleeps! Those beady, soulless black eyes stare at him at night. It terrifies me if I’m ever studying with him. Terrifying! Trust me.

That’s not the strange thing though.

No, he has a cow shaped money box that watches him while he sleeps too, but it doesn’t just stare. Oh no! It moos whenever money gets put into the little slot. It doesn’t even sound right. It sounds like a demonic cow. Serious.


When bringing home the pig cup, everyone but Fred has started to hear little pattering of feet at night or even during the day when the flat is quiet.

At first no one thought much of it, thinking that maybe it was just the pipes. The University hall isn’t exactly new, so sure the piping is going to creak once in a while.

It was only the other day when everyone woke up to a crashing of pots and pans from our kitchen that we realised things are getting weird.

Juliette, who  had been awake ‘revising’ – she had a boy over -, claimed she and the boy had heard the weird pattering outside her door before the big crash. She and he were even sure they had heard a squealing.

Sure enough, when we all ran in there, the washed-up pots and pans from last night’s meal that we hadn’t bothered putting away yet, were all over the floor as if they had just been knocked off. When inspecting the counter, I and a few others noticed strange trotter-shaped puddles all over it, as if an animal had been running on top of the counter after falling in the sink.

Stranger thing? Fred heard NONE OF IT! He had no idea that there was ever a crash and squeal.

We thought, maybe this is a one off thing. We’re all tired. We’ve all got exams. We’re all stressed. So, we went back to bed thinking we were just a little crazy from university. It was surely going to get to us some time, right? It’s not freshers anymore.


The pattering continued. Random crashes during the night indicated the bookshelf in the hallway had fallen to the floor, books scattered everywhere, covered in muddy trotter prints; doors bursting open during the night and then a crashing on the desk, and finding chewed up stationary.

And then, just three nights ago, I woke up in the middle of the night.

I opened my eyes and saw it.


Eyes staring at me in the night.

I screamed, swatting out at whoever was trying to prank me, but didn’t feel someone, but something. An animal. Not just any animal.

A pig.

A GHOST pig.

I was staring at a Ghost Pig. A fucking GHOST PIG!!

Everyone thought I was crazy at first, but just last night Henry woke up to get a drink of water and came across a ghost pig guarding his door, squealing at him. The night before, Juliette had been with the boy again, and when she turned around while ‘studying?‘ they both yelled, seeing the pig just staring at them doe-eyed.

That’s when it was declared.

That pig cup needs to go.

A Ghost Pig possesses this cup.

It has to go!

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