In the arena, applause rains and pours down on you like a calamity. The public encourages you to struggle against me, your opponent and host of the last moments of your life.

On this floor that is mine, I am going to make you dance until the ground is coated with your blood and tears. I slowly bow to greet you and I open the hunt.

          Death is coming, she marches on. She does not want to know your name and you can run, scream, pray, but you won’t escape your hunter.

The bell rings and orders me to serve my purpose in front of this bloodthirsty stand. Crows sing to your glory, but fear is already driving you mad.

Fear. I see it in your eyes and I quiver. What a marvellous show I will be able to offer. This is but a game and you do not find this fair.

Here, no need for banderillas to weaken you, I am the only one standing in front of you. None of your words, none of your screams, none of your pleas will make me stop. None of your cries, none of your prayers will make me back down. Me, I only see your flesh gash under my sword.

          I revel in it and the hungry public too. You can crawl, but the arena must seem very small since, no matter your efforts, I always catch up with you. In a slow and elegant step.

You are our prey.

In front of me, in this arena, in the heart of your town where no one will come help you. Your sufferings are our pleasure and your god leaves you to our mercy. You, you do not find this fair. I only bring you peace after agony. I am your executioner, so let us get on with it.

“Señora… I am the Matador.”