Lowell never called living easy.
From the kidnapping of his family,
To the hardships of living life like a human,
Thirst for revenge was imminent.
This is a story about a cow and his life.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
PART ONE CHAPTER 2: "The Essence of Living"
We were bridging from the essence of death, ridden in muddy shackles the dark rulers of the world held us in. Their tall, hungry faces witnessed the blood of sons and daughters of mothers who've yet to be seen. Small hens of different breeds went first, it was like a sweet candy for the slaughters. Before the twist of a neck, the hens would yelp one last prayer to save themselves from the harbingers of death, but even then they couldn't see how foolish hope was. How hope died when you had nothing left to fight for.
The spirit of the warrior was almost hibernating in me, only an increasing vengeance bubbling inside my bones that wouldn't crack. The humans left me inside some dark workshop, glints of light hinting sacred acts being done so long ago. I've rebelled as a man who looked a mere cow, but I felt like I was paying the price of a human.
Worrying winds conversed through the room roughly, as the workshop doors finally shifted apart slowly. Nothing but a tall shadow over a smaller one. That's what the humans were.
I shook frightened of my life even though no attempts to bolt was made. I thought maybe I would die before they touched me, for the chances of my heart busting felt closer than I believed. Who's I to believe in anything though? The last time I believed in something, I lost everything that held me together. Served me right for thinking so optimistic in such a situation so dire.
The tall human stomped shortly with steel toe boots that could easily keep me decapitated. I backed away, surfacing ideas in mind to break free. But how could one break free if freedom didn't exist? Why human, why kill me once when you've already done the deed? Why double the divide my heart bridged from darkness to the frail light that was soon to dim within your arms sight?
So useless my death may be, perhaps it was a reason not to be undone, to be finished like my mother did. To be served as a dish of a story untold because of sudden death. Mom drove my manic attitude, it was like I could feel her inside me. These feelings wasn't the spirit of the warrior, but the anger my mom felt for dying. She lived in me to protect me from the shadows that threatened to choke my mind.
Standing strong I must, I pounced forward like a frustrated bull trying to break a wall. But this time, I did break a wall, a wall to freedom. I knocked the human back, snapping their neck on the door handle. Their head hung drearily as their eyes solaced on mine. The human understood. The dark leaders don't get to dictate what I should do in order to find my way.
But I still felt sad.
I was still the cow that had much to learn. Killing kept my mind awake, which was something I couldn't lose. At stake I may be, I found myself elsewhere once my hooves tipped the door down. I've broken it like I did to the human.
I stared at a corridor I didn't belong and lights that showed long halls. Where I don't belong may be the only thing powering my drained spirit.
I might had lost the spirit of the warrior, but I sure as hell was going to fight like one.
