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 ESPANA!!" the crowds cheer wildly; their boisterous screams, vibrating against the drums of my ears.
I sprint to my cozy balcony and smile at the bustling city beneath me. Gone we're the still hours that plagued the night before. Squealing kids, shameless vendors, and a bustling city center was indicative to the arrival of the Holy festival of Sanfermines.
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"Bye Abuelita!" I scream, pouring the last bit of water onto the luscious plants resting atop my ledge.
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Hastily, I slip on my chanclas and run to find my best friend Mariela, hidden someplace among the heavy crowds. She had left a few hours prior to save us a spot near the front of the street for the parade.
—-
I glance at the brick clocktower as it rang half past 5 and wondered where my friend was. The procession of matadors, the select few of Espana's finest bullfighters, were about to begin and march down Calle Ochoa.
"Anais! (ANN-EYE-EASE)!!"Mariela waves for my attention. I spot her curly blonde mane in the distance and run over to greet her. "I thought you would never find me in this crowd!" she hugs me softly. I smile and return my attention to the parade. "Did I miss anything?"
"Not yet. The Sánchez family just passed by not too long ago. They were throwing dulce to the kids." she smiles.
I roll my eyes as I see Celia Sanchez and her tacky face of makeup. Valiantly she stood, waving to the crowds atop a bed of red roses. Of course, she was this year's princess of Espana. Her family was one of the richest and most influential in the land and there is no doubt that her daddy paid for her title.
"I cannot believe your Abuela let you come to the parade" Mariela teased, catching a colorful bead from the air. I nod and continue to observe the procession of young children and teenagers passing down the cobblestone, dancing to the traditional music of the festival.
10 tall horses galloped down the rocky road, brandishing their silky mane. It was my first year experiencing the festival and I couldn't believe my grandma had let me out from my cage. I ponder Mariela's words as I think of the loops I had to go through to persuade her.
