I remember - during one of my visits to the Phils - hearing for the
very first time, the
awful, blood~curdling squeals of a
pig that was being slaughtered in the garden adjoining that of Myrna's relatives with whom I'd been living throughout my stay.

... I still
shudder 
whenever I'm reminded of the
truly dreadful impact such sounds had on my (shall we say?) more imaginative musings
!