A Bull’s Revolt

Matador 1

Matador 1 (Photo credit: Son of Groucho)

I stared at the Matador with hatred oozing out from every fibre of my being, I remembered the warning I gave to Japheth (it was named after its owner) and the others about the plans of the humans.

”They won’t stop killing us, we can revolt,” I cried out in pain, willing the others to come out of their cocoon and think for once but it was futile.

”With what?” Growled the idiot, we nicknamed him idiot because he doesn’t care about anything except grass, it once told me thinking is for humans not for bulls but I do think about my future and I still have nightmares about the death of Japheth.

I decided to fight for my kind, to revolt against the perceived norms that bulls can’t think because I can think and I don’t want to be taken for a fool anymore, if only I can control my anger!

They’ve killed us for fun, they’ve killed us for our anger and all for what? A piece of red cape! Such abomination! But this time it had to be different, I won’t buy into it. My resolve was commendable even though it was so hard. I watched with misty eyes as the red cloth was whipped from side to side, the Matador’s oily hair gleaming in the sun as he beckoned to me and I smelt his arrogance.

I glanced briefly at my hoofs and the brown sand which had been darken by the blood of my kind, I told Japheth I would fight my anger, I won’t succumb. And then the Matador glared at me angrily, daring me to come get it, oh boy, it was so tempting!

How lovely it would it be to thrust my horns into his well toned stomach, to hack him down until his blood flowed the way my friends had been brutally murdered.

I remember Japheth with such fondness and today, I will not fight!

With a deep sigh, I turned away from the Matador amidst gasps from the audience in the arena…

*********

When someone succeeded in making you angry, believe me folks, they are controlling your life. Refuse to give in to the taunts and jeers of others simply turn your back. You’ll be glad you did and might actually be saving your life.

Thanks for reading my post and by the way, ‘A Bull’s Revolt’ was just a figment of my imagination. I will post ‘TIME’ on Monday and the rest of the story would be published in kindle and paperback soon.

 

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A Soldier’s Dream.

Map of the city recently established and witho...

Map of the city recently established and without walls. Circa 1550 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Drake dodged bullets flying past as he engaged the enemy in mortal combat, his platoon mate was shooting rapidly, his face contorted in war rage as they moved into enemy territory, by the end of the night, his friend laid beside him dead. They counted their losses, evacuated the wounded and retreated back to camp.

Lying down on his bunk bed, Drake’s exhaustion and the death of his friend temporarily took a backstage as he gazed admiringly at the picture of his bride of  twelve months. She was his saving grace, the few letters she wrote to him gladden his heart but it wasn’t the same like seeing her in the flesh. Her picture was also his only source of comfort and in a way, he would survive his stint at the war front only because her thoughts gave him strength.

The war dragged on longer than expected and after twenty-four months, he came back home unexpectedly. The cab driver dropped him in front of his house and he walked slowly to the front door, his heart beating with excitement. But he held it all together and knocked the door, there was no response but he saw someone peeping through the window.

Finally after waiting for about ten minutes which seemed like ten years, Anna opened the door by an inch, Drake’s broad smile was met with stony silence.

”Hello darling,” Drake crooked out in what he thought was a normal voice, but his wife said nothing and she also had problems looking up.

Drake’s intuition was to push her back into the house and then he saw the protruding tummy. It didn’t take him long before he made mental calculations  to know that he was not the father, his bag dropped to the ground with a thud and he felt faint.

And then he heard the unmistakable voice of his friend, who couldn’t be drafted to the war because of an illness.

”Honey who was that?” Jonas called out from the room and they both heard footsteps, Anna’s eyes was still drawing maps on the ground beside her husband.

Jonas pulled the door back to show his rumpled pyjamas and hairy legs. Drake doesn’t need a soothsayer to tell him what has gone on while he was away fighting for his country.

Jonas retreated back to the safety of the living room while Anna finally found her voice,

”I am sorry,” she said and wanted to touch him.

Drake’s dream was over, his visions for a happy family crashed like a pack of dominoes at his feet. Ever so slowly, he picked up his bag and turned away from his home…

If you were Drake, what would you do?

*****

Most of you must know by now that I am a story-teller and I guess it runs in my genes. My mum would keep you enraptured for hours on end about tales and rib cracking jokes, my dad would look on smiling just adding titbits to the tales.

And I have one good news, the second edition of my novel, ”The Feet Of Darkness” would be out soon and I would love the candid opinions of my friends.