Alone at La Fiesta Brava

more of a short, short story, I fancy...

 

 I didn't want to attend that damned bullfight, but my girfriends finally persuaded
me as I had grown weary of the lone traveler routine, continually taking the path
of opposition.

 

So, at three pm, I found myself walking into the sandy arena on that deceivingly
sunny day.

I spotted the bull, so beautiful he was, and gazed into those big, brown eyes; for
a moment, just a moment, he appeared to stare back at me.

 

The matador was as smooth as his red and black velvet jacket, elegant as his
black bow tie, and for a moment, just a moment, I was infatuated by his dark
skin and straight white teeth, especially when he smiled and kissed me softly on
my tiny hand.

 

Many people, mostly visitors from other lands, applauded him, praised him for 
his bravery as he taunted the bull with his fiery, red cloak.

 

But then, how was this animal to understand his fate?

 

Perhaps instincts informed him that he was trapped, that forcibly he was

compelled to defend himself.  Perhaps.

 

And he did.

 

Brutally beaten, I observed as he lay defenseless, body consumed by sand, sides
heaving while the matador proudly raised his hand to accommodate the vigorous
spectators.  My friends cheered along with the crowd...

 

I cried.

 

 

Reviews

[Mr. Deft Diction]

This could be about many different things. There's a savageness here in this piece that almost hurts. This could be about rape. It could be about senseless violence that has nothing to do with a woman. It could simply be about a person who feels like they've just walked off the field of battle, in any place.

Either way, the title is very cunning and appropriate, b/c you ended it MAGNIFICENTLY!

Beautiful, heart-felt write, Ap.

[An owl on the moon]

What a moving, disturbing story... Sadly, your words confess so much more than what takes place in a bullfight.. it seems to happen around us every day. Overwhelming imagery.

[Kayla]

This is very sad. I have never really been into the whole bull fighting thing. I specially don't like that they kill the bull. I thought that this was a great story. I like the last part. "My friends cheered along with the crowd....I cried".

[Francesca]

wow i really liked it!

you usually never see the side of the story that pities the bull
it's always excitement at the matador's victory over the beast
but you showed that the bull has feelings too!
and it really goes well with the title

good job!

[Jibey]

Your feelings were so well engaged at this spectacle, and how well you depict the attractionof the mighty beast and the smooth appeal of the matador... and your heart bled with the creature, responding to the pity of it all...

Well written, effective in its restraint and understatement.

[Emily B]

you see the beauty of the beast, I still remember how beaten a friend from my youth was by the beast who broke a phone pole . . .

but then, I let the spiders in my house roam free, can't see much reason in ending their existence.

[Michael X]

beautiful, heartwrenching. this is a masterpiece, apollonia
you could not have written the storyline with more heart imo. the rhythm
captures and carries. the graphic adds the tragic touch if not already
in the last 7 lines, as well as what brought moment to unerstanding
in the first beautifully written 11 lines.wow

[Sean M. Addams]

very interesting piece...kind of thought provoking to me.... overall i thought this was expressed well and very deep..nice job ..a very impressive write!!

[Angelic Darkness]

I've seen this senseless, horrible act on TV. I know this is a tradition in some
countries, but this is so very cruel. I would never even consider going to
one of these. Good write, and very touching..AD

[HeartsBinded]

To me this poem signifies not only the bull, not only rape of the individual person, not only one tragic, unforgivably evil event, but also the molestation of our souls as a whole, as members of a most modern society.

So often people focus on pretty things, on looks, on money, on strength, on skill, and rarely do we(as the spectators in yourpoem) see past the glamerous facade, the sheeps clothing, i guess you could say, and so offten we pull the wool over our own eyes and are able to convince ourselves there is nothing wrong with what we are doing. Rarely do people search for love above lust, friend over enemy.

But a few of us see this, the violence and the immorality of it all. We see the downfall in that rise to power that most so eagerly seek. It is an uphill battle, to keep our wits in this hectic, violent, twisted world.

Those of us who see it, we fight. We charge and we huff and we flare our nostrils at the cloak of society, sometimes we are victorious, sometimes we are not. Sometimes we fall, sometimes we rise. And though it may seem hopeless and rediculous to even begin to think it possible, we can rise up, we can shake off the sand, we can take out the spears, we can win. We can overcome.