Fiction by Greg Schmidt

“Is Bliss”
             By Greg Schmidt

On a sprawling farm in the countryside stood six massive steel sheds. Sunlight sparkled against their gleaming surfaces, but never found its way inside. Instead, within each were a multitude of artificial lamps that lit and warmed row upon row of small enclosures. In each of these pens was a sow and her piglets. And in one such pen, in the middle of one such shed, lived a little piglet called Percy.

 

Percy was new to the world, a week old if that, but he was a curious piglet. His brothers and sisters did not share his curiosity, and neither did Mother. She spent all day on her side as the litter of ten clamoured to her for milk. Percy, too, did not miss out when it was feeding time, but his inquisitiveness was not so easily satiated. 

 

Why, he wondered, was their pen so small? Mother occupied most of the space on the floor, and, when he and his siblings stretched out to sleep, there wasn’t much room left. The metal floor wasn’t comfortable either, lined with slits that rubbed against his skin when he slept and caught on his trotters when he walked.

 

Why, he wondered, could they never leave? Four solid metal walls surrounded the pen and were just high enough that Percy could not see, or jump, over them. One of the walls served as a gate. Percy remembered it being open once, not long after he was born, but since then it had remained closed, and he and his family remained closed within. 

 

What, he wondered, of the other inhabitants of the shed? Though he saw little from his pen other than what was above it, he could often hear the familiar sounds of other families of pigs. How many were there, and were they all stuck inside like he and his family were? Rats also scurried high up on the rafters, and Percy didn’t understand why they were allowed to move about so freely when he couldn’t.

 

Who, he wondered most of all, were the Men? Throughout the day, they would walk back and forth past the pen, and they towered above Percy so that he could only see their top half. Often, they would stop and point inside and speak in strange tongues. Sometimes, they would pick up a piglet, even Percy once, and look it over before returning it. Men were a mystery to Percy. Whenever they approached he had a desire to hide behind Mother. 

 

All his short life, Percy had pondered these questions and posed them to his family. His brothers and sisters didn’t know or didn’t care. He was sure Mother knew more than she would say, but she was always so weary, it was hard to get anything out of her.

 

So, when he tired of wondering about what and why, he fed, and he slept. His worries would disappear amongst the warm bodies of his brothers and sisters as they supped at Mother’s side or snoozed in a pile. Though he did not fully understand his little corner of the world, with his family, it was home, and he thought them inseparable.

 

It was to Percy’s surprise then that, one morning, when he had finished feeding, he noticed one of his sisters away from the rest of the litter. She lay on her belly with her hind legs splayed out beneath her. 

 

‘Sister Prim,’ said Percy, trotting over to her. ‘Why aren’t you feeding?’

 

Prim lifted her head with a struggle and spoke in a whisper.

 

‘Can’t...’

 

She tried to move her legs but could only drag herself slightly forward before she gave up. Her head slumped back to the floor. 

 

‘Is something the matter with your legs?’ asked Percy. Now that he thought of it, he wasn’t sure when he had last felt Prim amongst the litter. It was sometimes easy to forget who was who in the frenzy at feeding time.

 

Prim tried to speak again but could only manage a gurgled gasp of air. Percy nudged her side with his snout. Her skin was hot, and Percy could easily feel her bones beneath. 

 

‘Sister,’ said Percy, with some alarm. ‘You need to feed. I’ll tell Mother.’

 

But before he could, Percy recognised the scent of Men, and he instinctively froze. It was two Men, and they stopped in front of the pen. One pointed at Prim. The other nodded, leant down, and picked up Prim by her hind legs. The Man held her aloft, and she hung upside down swinging gently back and forth. Percy had never seen a piglet picked up like that before, yet he tried to reassure his sister.

 

‘Prim,’ he called. ‘Do not fear. They will return you.’

 

The Men did not return her. They walked away with Prim, still upside down and swinging between them, until they were out of sight. Percy was puzzled. Why had they taken her? And where? A dull thud sounded in the distance, jolting Percy from his thoughts, but the shed often echoed with all sorts of noises when the Men were about. Still, Percy worried after his sister. None of his siblings seemed to have noticed she was gone. Most still fed, and even Mother seemed unaware. Her head rested against the floor, and her eyes were closed. Percy trotted to her and said,

 

‘Mother. The Men just took Prim. Did you know?’

 

Mother did not raise her head, but her eyes opened and fell upon Percy.

 

‘Yes,’ she said, slowly. ‘Though I feel she has been missing for some time now.’

‘No, Mother, they only just took her. She couldn’t walk. Two Men picked her up and took her away, but they didn’t put her back like they normally do. Where do they take her? Will they fix her legs?’

 

Mother’s gaze drifted to somewhere past Percy.

 

‘In a way, my son.’

 

‘What do you mean? I don’t understand.’

 

‘It is better that you don’t.’ It was becoming hard for Mother to speak, and she breathed deeply between every few words. ‘Feed now Percy. You must stay strong. Do not fret over your sister.’

 

Percy did fret and, that night, he could not sleep. Prim was yet to be returned, and the image of her hanging upside down in the grip of Man haunted Percy’s thoughts. His other brothers and sisters didn’t seem to miss her much, and Mother remained distant on the subject. The Men had always put piglets back, but why not this time? He could not rest until he knew where Prim was. Percy carefully arose from amongst the slumbering litter and resolved that he would leave this pen and find his sister.

 

Doing so was no easy matter. The walls were solid, and there were no gaps even at the corners. The front gate could not be opened from within and was as impenetrable as every other side. And if he could get out, what awaited him? Men rarely appeared when the lights were low, but if he was caught, would they simply return him home, or take him away as Prim had been? 

 

Doubt flooded his mind, and he began to think himself foolish. He wished he were bigger, like Mother. An idea sparked in his mind. Mother was asleep on her side and, in that position, was nearly as high as the walls. Her rear end was quite close to the edge of the gate—maybe just close enough for Percy to jump from.

 

Percy scrambled up Mother’s leg and climbed atop her. He stepped to the very end of her body and was able to see over the gate. Behind it was a narrow pathway with a similar gate on the other side. Percy thought he could make the leap over, but the new question was how to get back. Scanning the path, his eyes landed upon an upturned bucket, which looked high enough to return from. It was risky, but he was resolute. Percy was preparing to jump when Mother suddenly spoke beneath him.

 

‘Who is that?’

 

‘It is I, Mother. Percy.’

 

‘What are you doing, boy? Get off me and go back to sleep.’

 

‘I cannot sleep. Not while Prim is still away. I am going to find her.’

 

‘You must not!’ exclaimed Mother, lifting her head to observe Percy on top of her. ‘Return to your brothers and sisters at once.’

 

‘Why must I? Don’t you care she is gone?’

 

‘Of course I care, my son. I care for all of you. Everything I have is for all of you.’

 

‘But what of Prim?’

 

The question hung in the air. Squeaks and snores came from Percy’s sleeping siblings.

 

‘I can do nothing for her now,’ said Mother, finally. ‘I have only the strength for those here.’

 

‘Then I will be your strength.’

 

Mother let out a deep breath and returned her head to the floor. 

 

‘I cannot stop you, my son, but understand that sometimes it is better not to know. Sometimes it is better to accept. If you do find her, do not be mad at me.’

 

‘Why would I be mad?’

 

Mother did not answer. Percy stood upon her large frame, rising and falling with each breath she took. He gave her one last look then ran along her body and leapt from the end.

 

Over the gate he went. His trotters just cleared the top, and he landed on the other side in a tumble. The floor here was solid stone and slippery with water. He found his footing and looked back to his pen. The gate somehow appeared taller from the outside than from within. So too did the shed seem bigger. Percy shivered. He was on his own, but the thought of Prim also alone out here, steeled his resolve.

 

Before leaving, Percy checked his method of return. He pushed the bucket against the gate with his snout and sprang on top. It was sturdy enough, despite some rusting at the edges, and the height was just about right. He was confident that from there he could make it back into his pen. Percy hopped down and sniffed at the floor. Prim’s scent came to him, and it led in the same direction that the Men had taken her. He set off to find his sister.

 

The stone path stretched out ahead of Percy, and each side was flanked with solid metal gates similar to that of his pen. Above each pen hung an orange lamp, dimmed as the shed slept, but providing enough light for Percy to make his way. Cautiously he continued, his little trotters click-clacking along the path. His only accompaniment was the occasional snuffle, snore or oink that served as evidence of the shed’s other sleeping inhabitants. Percy was astounded at the number of pens. They seemed to go on forever.

 

Eventually he came to a pen that was different. Here, the gate hung open into the path, and crouched before it was a rat. It looked about furtively and, upon seeing Percy, raised up onto its hind legs.

 

‘Back off, piggie. This is my business,’ said the rat. ‘What you doin’ out anyways?’

 

‘I—’ Percy stammered. The rat, though smaller than he, still gave him pause. ‘I’m looking for my sister. The Men…they brought her this way.’

 

The rat glanced through the gate and returned to all fours.

 

‘That’s rough. Listen, kid, you oughta go back home.’

 

‘No. I won’t,’ said Percy, confidence returning to his voice. ‘I must find my sister.’

 

‘As you like, but out here ain’t no place for little piggies. You don’t wanna end up like the rest of ’em.’

 

‘The rest of whom?’

 

The rat stood aside and pointed its nose towards the open pen. 

 

‘What’s in there?’ asked Percy, cautiously. ‘Have you seen my sister?’

 

‘Seen lots that look like you, kid, so yeah, I guess I seen all your sisters.’

 

Prim’s scent led into the pen, but as Percy approached, it intermingled with something foreign to him. He hesitated. The rat offered no further advice. Slowly, Percy stepped inside. 

 

Within, bathed in a soft orange glow, lay a pile of piglets—perhaps half a dozen. They were sprawled together in a heap and appeared in peaceful slumber. But there was no Mother here and, as Percy drew closer, he observed no movement from the piglets. No rise and fall of breath. No twitch of the tail. No flutter of ear or eyelid. Nothing. 

 

On top of them all was Prim. 

 

‘S…sister?’ said Percy.

 

Prim lay at a strange angle with her legs askew. An ugly purple splotch spread across the top of her head between her ears. Her eyes were wide but unmoving. A fly crawled out of her open mouth and across her snout.

 

‘Sorry kid,’ said the rat from behind. ‘If that’s your sister, she’s a dud like the rest.’

 

‘Dud?’

 

‘Somethin’ wrong with her. The Men don’t want duds so they smash their heads on the floor and toss ’em here.’

 

‘They,’ Percy began, but had to avert his gaze from Prim and the rest of the piglets, ‘kill them?’

 

‘’Bout the sum of it.’

 

Anger began to boil inside Percy. ‘But why not help them?’

 

‘Dunno. That’s not the way of Men. Take it from a rat—Men are only out for themselves. Us animals got to look after ourselves, see. And if you can’t, you end up in the pile.’

 

Percy was horrified. ‘Will they kill me too?’

 

‘Maybe, but you look pretty healthy, so you’ll be right.’ The rat scratched its chin with its front paw. ‘For a while, anyway.’

 

Percy looked again at the pile of unmoving piglets. His sister. Brothers and sisters from other families. All discarded. All dead. Did Mother know? Was this why she said not to come? How could she say nothing of this? He stared once more at Prim’s lifeless body then turned to leave.

 

‘You ok, kid?’ asked the rat.

 

‘No,’ said Percy. ‘I must go home.’

 

‘Probably for the best.’ The rat licked its lips. ‘You won’t wanna come back.’

 

Back down the path Percy marched until he stood by the bucket at the gate to his pen. Fury filled his little frame.

 

‘Mother!’ he shouted. ‘Mother, did you know?’

 

There came no response. Percy paced back and forth.

 

‘Mother, answer me!’

 

Still nothing, but Percy was determined to make her speak. He hopped on to the bucket and, without hesitation, leapt towards his pen. As he did, the bucket slipped backwards on the wet path, and Percy mistimed his jump. His front legs did not clear the top of the gate, and he slammed into hard metal. With nothing to grip on to, he tumbled back down, and one of his hind legs connected with the rusted edge of the bucket. It cut deeply into his flesh, and blood sprayed from his leg as he fell. Percy crumpled to the floor and passed out.

 

When he awoke, the lights in the shed were bright once more. Dazed, but aware of the piercing pain in his hind leg, he found himself on his side in a pool of blood. The lower half of his body was stained red, and an ugly, oozing, gash scarred his leg. He looked about desperately for Mother, only to remember he was all alone and still outside the pen. He had to get back. Despite the pain, Percy managed to roll onto his belly and tried to stand. His wounded leg gave way instantly, and he cried in pain. The walls of home loomed above him, insurmountable.

 

‘Mothe—’ he began to call, but he did not finish, as all around the shed rang the sounds of Men.

 

Percy panicked. Footsteps approached, and it seemed the very ground beneath him trembled. He propped himself onto his front legs and tried to stand again, but it was in vain. He collapsed in a heap. Voices filled the space above him. He knew not the words, but knew they spoke of him. Then upon him was cast the shadow of Man, and Percy was gripped with terror.

 

A strong hand closed around his hind legs. Percy squealed in agony, but the hand did not yield. Up he was lifted until he hung upside down. His body twisted in the air, and he could see the inside of his pen. His brothers and sisters all suckled at Mother’s side.

 

‘Mother!’ he called. ‘Help me!’

 

Her eyes met his briefly, and Percy searched them for hope, but found only the same distant look she had given when he had told her about Prim.

 

The Man lifted Percy higher into the air, and Percy wriggled his body violently in an attempt to escape. Blood trickled down his body and into his eyes. His vision became a blur of similar pens all filled with a mother and her piglets. He could not tell anymore which was his.

 

‘Please! Someone, help!’

 

The grip around Percy’s legs tightened, and he was suddenly hurtling downwards. His body became weightless. Time stood still. Anger and fear left him, replaced by a desperate longing for home—to once more be safe amongst his brothers and sisters, and Mother, before all his questions had answers. Yet, at the end, one question remained.

 

Why?

 

Then his head met the cold, stone floor, and he wondered no more. 

- Greg Schmidt is a writer of short and flash fiction. He enjoys experimenting with various genres and themes, but many of his recent stories explore our relationships with animals and the impact we as humans have on them. He lives in Sydney, Australia, with his wife and their four-legged support crew of three dogs and two cats (though the cats are more indifferent than supportive).

Copyright©2025by Greg Schmidt. All Rights Reserved.