The Art of Killing
14:28:00
I opened my eyes with difficulty. Everything I beheld before me was green.
The soft grass tickled my damp hair and the wind carried a gentle melody. A
warm breath and cozy licks roamed through my body. It was my mother and she was
cherishing me. However, in that exceptional and striking moment, she was no
longer casting an eye on me, but rather on the two men who looked at us
unnaturally.
At first, my body trembled in their presence, but in the years that
followed, they had never mistreated me. They were labeled as conocedores and
Joaquín was my favourite. He used to ride a van with two little sleek canines - Mona and Mono. With
them, it came food which was distributed over thousands of acres with hundreds
of other bovines scattered throughout the green-painted pastures. I liked
Joaquín, he used to feed me and look after me.
Nevertheless, the varied grazing full of space, shade, dust baths, water,
and relaxing hiding places disappeared when I turned four. On my fourth
birthday, Joaquín took me away in his usual van. There were four walls around
me that would not allow me to run away, and I felt strangely numb until I
collapsed. When I woke up, a stranger was grabbing a metallic device between
his two hands:
- Hold him!
I had chains binding me, people pulling me with ropes, and my body was not
obeying me. I was feeling feeble and heavy-eyed, but not even that drowsiness
wiped out the horrendous abuse... The unknown man put his metallic device on my
horns and started to shave them. I felt every blow; the exposed marrow was
stuffed deeper into the horns and the ends sharpened with a file. I quickly became
more unbalanced and disoriented until I fainted...
In the following days, there was no Joaquín or another living soul. I was
not fed – food or water. My stomach rumbled with hunger and I
could not figure out what I had done to be imprisoned. I was surrounded by
enclosed darkness which was eating me alive. From time to time I would hear
noises and hope that someone would come for me, but nobody did…
- Today is the big day! - I heard the joyful voice of a man as he opened
the doors, letting in a beam of light. - Let's get ready, you must put on a
show!
As soon as he finished speaking, people began to move, while I remained
motionless. They rubbed my eyes with petroleum jelly to blur my vision, stuffed
cotton into my ears and filled my nostrils with wet newspapers, cutting off my
breathing. They rubbed my skin with a caustic solution which threw me off
balance, stuck a needle into my genitals, and beat me with sandbags. In the
end, they gave me water. It had a peculiar taste and odor, but I could not
resist it, since I was so thirsty. When I finished, I was completely
bloated and heavy, until that weight quickly dropped on the floor and I started
to feel dehydrated and lifeless again.
- Look at him! He is so weak! This is no fun! Administer him some
amphetamines, the show is about to begin!
I felt a prick and my heart began to pound out of my chest, as my vision
became even more blurred.
People were now indistinct shapes walking around as my
breathing slipped through my fingers. The puzzled feeling of breathing
excessively while I was breathless was suppressed by the revived hope. Once I
saw the blinding light at the end of the tunnel and with it the opportunity to
escape, I ran desperately with all my might towards the light. I was finally
free!
At least it was what I thought until I reached my destiny – a heavily
crowded arena. Some men, wearing bright and elegant attires, broke through, whilst
the spectators applauded. I was dreaming that somebody would rescue me, but
they just stood there jeering. At the sound of a horrific tune, two men with
red capes appeared. I could not understand what was going on, I felt trapped. I
tried to chase and harm them, but I was physically exhausted and could not
respond to their taunts. Distracted, I did not notice the appearance of a man
on horseback who plunged a weapon into my neck. I screamed in agony. He twisted
the harpoon and the blood began to trickle down my body. I felt my muscles
tearing apart and I could not lift my head anymore. I heard the applause and
the cheerfulness of the crowd, while plus six sharp instruments penetrated my
pain-racked body and the cape fluttered around me in a sea of red. How can
anyone with an ounce of compassion, cheer and chant “olé”, while I was being hacked to death in
throbbing torture? With this thought, my spasmodic figure stops in the middle
of the ring and I bellow madly. I no longer want to escape from the fight, but
from the suffering and fear that wade me. Nevertheless, this is not a fight but
vicious and barbaric bloodshed.
I currently find myself listening to another dilatory tune whilst I hope
that it will be the one which finally announces my death. With it, another man
enters, the best dressed of all. His stellar attire glares, while he turns his
back on me, kneels and touches me with fond affection, offering a true
spectacle to the delighted multitude. Finally, he takes the sword out and
plunges it into my back, making me fall to the ground and vomit blood. But then
again, he falls short. I lift myself up again only to receive further
mutilation at the hands of my tormentors. This time they hit me with a dagger
and I no longer feel my limbs, falling to my knees on the sin-stained floor. I
am gasping for air when a new pain strikes me. I glare at my ears and my tail
on the ground, right in front of my eyes, as I am not even allowed to keep my
body whole... I hear a neigh and then I am hitched by my hind hooves to a team of horses,
so my bleeding body can be dragged out of the ring. Not pleased with my
suffering, the crowds start to jeer me. Yet I am finally away from them. I feel
myself fading, the world getting darker than the black box in which they had me
put in...
- It's this one! - I hear from a distance, as a man approaches me. I can
see the gleam of a knife in his left hand.
-Don’t worry, Ruan. Everything is fine now. You'll return to
see the green meadows you've been living in. - I recognise Joaquín's hoarse
voice.
I want to ask him in my impotent pitch, "Where have you been all this
time?" before I remember that he is just another human deprived of
humanity. At this deplorable moment, he draws his knife on my hair and cuts my
throat, releasing me to death.
- And the beast loses again! - he murmurs.
Little does he know that the beast has won, and it has the silhouette of a
man.
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