Meet Esteban, a carefree, 21 year old bachelor by day and bullfighter by night.
Since the night of his father's death, Esteban has made it his personal mission to kill every single bull in Espana, no matter what stood in his way.
But what happens...
"¡Viva España!!!🎶" the band blared the anthem's last tune and the crowd erupted into vibrant cheers.
The famous running of the bulls, (enrrincio)held during the nine-day festival of Sanfermines, had just ended and each bull had been ushered into the spacious plaza de Toros to be slaughtered.
Cristobal La Renta, the most renowned matador in all of Espana, sauntered to the middle of the arena, standing still as the crowd sent their praises.
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"CRISTOBAL! CRISTOBAL!" they cheered him on. He waved victoriously, blowing innocent kisses to his adoring fans, thanking them for their faithful devotion.
"El Conquistador!!" they yelled, referring to his proper title. After 2,300 matches and 1,999 kills, today would mark his historic 2000th. The running of the bulls was observed each year in honor of Saint San Fermín. It was a week-long celebration held annually in the city state of Navarra and a surplus of men, women, and children alike flocked to the city center to partake in the historic festivities.
The dashing Conquistador walks towards the raised seating in the arena, where my mother and I sat to watch him perform. He throws his black cap to my mother as a sign of devotion as he always did before each match. Every woman prayed for the chance to lay with the famous Cristobal La Renta but his heart belonged to only one.
My mother giggled bashfully and threw her white handkerchief to him in return. He kisses her perfumed cloth and tucked it deeply into his shirt pocket before he began his routine.
"Aaaaaaribaaaaaa!!!!!" my father sings as he taunts the castrated bull. Its dirty black hooves revved into the sodden ground, impatient to charge at its mighty opponent.
"Andale Andale!!" he taunts his foe once more. The boisterous masses clap and cheer as another failed attempt to pierce him concludes. Gracefully, he swings his muleta, the iconic red cape that was a right of passage for every veteran matador, over the face of the bull.
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Finally, the last stage of the routine arrived. My mother gripped my palm a bit tighter, whispering her prayers to Ava Maria for my father's safe return. I chuckle softly as I observe the light streaks of gray that danced across her soft tresses. The stress from my father's unpredictable exploits were finally starting to take its toll.
"Relax mother" I kiss her cheek to comfort her. The bull becomes weaker each minute that passed, its blood, dripping to the dusty ground. Weaker and weaker the spirit of the beast became, violently attempting to resist defeat.
Frantically, my father begins diving to avoid it, searching for an opening to commit the fatal blow. Each minute it grew more furious than the next.
"CONQUISTADOR!!!" the crowd screams to warm him as the bull, more ferocious than before, charges at him. My father laughs confidently and avoids it just in time! Of course the beast was no challenge to him.
The silver end of his sword sinks into the spine of the beast as he commits the fateful blow. The raging bull crashes against the thick wall and takes its final breath.
A deafening silence falls over the arena, the crowd, refusing to breathe as the red cape flew to the ground.
"AHHHHHH!" the masses erupt and whistle as the bull's death is confirmed.
My father, the dashing conquistador, has come out victorious!!
He bows as a bounty of roses are thrown into the field. Just before he had a chance to pick up the final rose, the bull bucks up and charges at his physique.
"Dad!!!!" I yell but before he could avoid the impact.... it was too late.
"AHHHHH!!!" my mother's bloodcurdling scream echos through the silent arena. The bulls horn is pierced through the left side of my dad's chest.
"Papi!!" I yell. My feet only carry me so far before I am held back by the helpers and stable hands. Pandemonium arises as a group of medics push through to aid. A group of stable hands shoot down the raging bull and drag its body to the gate cellars, hidden beneath the surface.
"Father! Father!" I push through and see the bloody aftermath of the beast. My mother runs after me, screaming at the top of her lungs but they carry her away, shielding her from the image of gore.
"Father father!" I yell.
"Esteban my son..." he coughs up blood as he grabs my hand.
"Please papa...don't go... I need you"
"Do all as I've taught you.... you are a La Renta. Carry on my legacy and take care of your madre"
"No papa. I can't " I cry hysterically.
"Do not be sad my son. This is a downside of this sport, I taught you more than even I know. Be the best you can be; Only the best will be remembered in this game of chance my son. Tell your mother I love her" he sighs and takes his final breath.
"Papa! Papa!" I whisper and loosen his jacket button in an attempt to free his airways but my efforts were futile. My eyes mist over as I shake him to wake.
"No!!! No!!!!" I yell and scream, "PAPA!!" I yell and cry into his bloody chest.
But it was too late....
The great matador of Espana, adored and admired by all. The great Cristobal La Renta...Lover, Husband and friend....
My father
was dead.
——-
Author Note:
What did you think of the first chapter? Exciting? Boring? Y'all annoyed with me yet?
Can you believe I've included a love triangle in EVERY SINGLE ONE my past books?
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I promise I won't put a love triangle in this book!
What do you think this story is going to be about? 10 points to whoever can guess!
