Clark Red Monologue

I could scarcely envision such an occurrence. As my neighbor ejected me from their domicile, the sky, though shrouded in clouds, seemed suffused with a sanguine tint, reminiscent of bovine hide. My eyes brimmed with tears, yet the edict of my community dictated that boys must not betray their emotions. On that very thoroughfare, the same bovine creature assailed me with a forceful thrust of its head, toppling me to the ground. It was at that juncture that my affections for the cow likely dissipated, and I surmise I may have incurred a fracture in one of my hands as a consequence. I embellished the cow with a red string bracelet, engraved on its reverse with the inscription, "One day I shall ride you." It is plausible that this very bracelet
On August 10th, my phone rang, and upon answering, I leapt up and began fervently expressing my gratitude, "Thank you, thank you." It was my best friend extending birthday congratulations. I descended the stairs to discern the nature of the commemoration held in my honor, only to find my neighbor prostrate on the floor, braced on her knees. She was clad in a red saree that appeared somewhat threadbare and sullied, and no other individuals were present, as I was the sole resident of that apartment. She had bestowed upon me that very bracelet, now besmirched with blood and dampened. Subsequently, she departed the city. In that instant, I was overtaken by a surge of rage, feeling as though blood was streaming from my eyes, yet my mind remained ensnared in bewilderment over the circumstances. Stepping out without donning my shoes, I encountered approximately 15-16 individuals, laughing, among whom one man's attire was stained with
In a paroxysm of unrestrained emotion, I seized the man's collar and cast him to the ground. Overwhelmed by my incapacity to contain my ire, I was subsequently besieged by others; yet my preoccupation remained with the unfathomable atrocity of consuming such a magnificent creature. My gaze then alighted upon the legs, which, to my horror, were not of another, but of my own cow. In that harrowing moment, my mind was engulfed in profound remorse for my inability to save the beast. Blood trickled from my mouth, and it was only upon regaining consciousness that I discerned my surroundings to be that of a hospital. Though my neighbor often portrays me as a social worker, the enduring question remains: why was I unable to save her? That moment is indelibly seared into my consciousness. The cow's legs were firmly grasped in my hands, and even now, as I draft this essay, I ardently wish it were nothing more than a troubling dream. On that fateful day, the hospital walls seemed to me as if suffused with a sanguine tint. I descended the stairs with painstaking caution, proceeded to my apartment, and unlocked the brown drawer, which had been secured with a