It comes knocking at your door

Alvin had problems. He had done something no human had ever done before. 

Twice. 

Watching his wife Sarah wash dishes in their farmhouse kitchen, he scratched and itched vigorously, prying at the scabs on his arms and tearing off little chunks of skin. Chipped porcelain plates vibrated on the oak table as his leg bounced up and down nervously. He tried not to continuously glance over his shoulder as sweat beaded precariously on his forehead. 

Sarah will know, she will find out. 

"The sows are acting up tonight," she said suddenly, and he fought against the purging urge to scream. 

They were acting up. A surge of inhuman squealing pulsated in and out of the barn; it sounded like choking toddlers crying. Sarah glanced out the window, but everything was smothered in a thick blanket of darkness. 

"I wonder why," she continued on. All Alvin could manage was a weakly muttered "Mmhmm". 

He knew exactly why.

His lungs felt crushed. Buried beneath the rubble of the sins he had committed. He looked at his wife, standing there, a dish towel in one hand and the worn out tea kettle in the other, and beneath the rough exterior of his stubbled face he wept. As she turned towards him she frowned. Obviously, the sadness had seeped through. 

Before she could speak, a soft knocking on the front door could be heard. A quizzical look dawned upon her face. Quite right, he thought, we are in the middle of a long way from nowhere. 

"Who could that be, at this time of night?" she wondered aloud. 

"Don't...." he croaked. His voice was like gravel being chewed up by a garbage disposal. He had no breath. The sows screamed louder, harder. A furious wind picked up and started throwing the porch swing against the house, causing the walls inside to shake with each slam.

Sarah started towards the door.

Slam. 

Alvin tried to call out to her. 

Slam.

Just as she reached for the doorknob, a howling scream pierced the air and the door flew open. Sarah cried out. 

The sows stopped crying. 

There, on the porch, was a freshly dismembered pigs head. In a numb shock, Sarah picked it up and saw that it's eyes were stitched shut. 

Sarah threw a rage into the night. She turned on Alvin, her heels digging into the carpet as she advanced on him. She could barely contain her simmering anger as she forced the words out. 

"You...summoned...it...again?"

"Yes," Alvin cried out. "It made me. Talked to me."

Sarah slapped him, twice, across the face. 

"How could you? After what it took last time? Do you remember what we buried in the backyard?"

Alvin started wringing his hands and muttering under his breath. He fell to his knees and wept softly. 

"Alvin, what are you saying? What did you DO?"

He looked into her eyes. 

"Sarah...this time it wants you". 

Between his stifled sobs, the sows began to cry once more.