It was late August when John Whitter was traveled to a small town almost no one knew about. It was rumored that criminals ran away to this town but John didn't care, he didn't believe the rumors. John had come on his own will and wasn't going to let anyone change his mind. He had packed his bags and mounted his horse, a few of his friends had come to send him off just to warn him once last time. Again, he didn't care what they said and left them with their worries.

   The horseback ride would take an hour so John would frequently take breaks. At last, he had made it to his destination and with glee, he ran to what he thought was the nearest Inn. To John's surprise, the Inn was now destroyed and not in service. Lucky for him, John had crossed paths with a butcher who kindly offered him shelter with his own family. John accepted his hospitality without a second thought and was lead to the stranger's home.

   Outside the butcher's home was a pen filled with pigs, nothing wrong there. John met the members of the family, the butcher's wife, and two children. They invited him to dinner, meat soup. He was filled and went to sleep. Weeks past and he began to notice something strange, there seemed to be the same amount of pigs as when he arrived weeks ago. How did the family get more meat? The only livestock they owned were the pigs. Months past and John was never seen again.