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.

[Rylan Batten]

i really liked this, and how it shows the horridness of the cruelty toward this animal. As for a deeper theme, is it perhaps the way we see a man take advantage of someone for entertainment purposes, while everyone just stands around and cheers for the "sport"? I'm not sure...it is a little obscure but I like the idea of using the bull for symbolism...but your specifics throughout make it seem like there is no incredibly deeper meaning, and without your note at the bottom I probably would not have looked for one.

So I'd focus more, if I were you, on direct parallels between what your symbolizing and these bull-fights. Say something that, out of context, could be used to describe either one, etc? Just suggestions, I'm sure you have a much better idea of what needs to be done. Either way, very enjoyable piece. Thanks for posting.

[Belinda Rice]

great write a new way for you but wonderfuly penned...i would not ever in my life go near a bull....i watched on tv what happens to people with those bulls it scares the hell out of me lol......well like i said grat write and i hope to see more of your writing keep up the good work...ty for sharing.

[Beautifully Tragic xPoe..]

Great imagery, Apollonia. Great to see you experimenting with something. Bull fighting is a sport I definetly don't want to witness. The matadors are brave but not my sport.


Great Write!

[R J Askew]

Great to see you trying a new theme. The matadors I am sure are very brave, but they choose to go in with the bull who has no choice. Also things might be different if it was 50:50 but I don't think it is. And the bull, if I'm not mistaken is weakened before his ritual humiliation and eventual death. Your poem does a great job of exposing the ugliness of stylised male brutality. And the ugliness of the crowd's bestial nature. Shame the game did not end with the Roman empire.

[The Elder Pine]

A truly atrocious sport if there ever was one. It should have gone the way of bear and bull bating long ago but unfortunatly did not. This is a bit of a new style ane method for you but it does fit. It is vivid like all of the rest of your work and strikes a cord just the same all be it on another level. Well done my friend.