A short story by Franz Kafka (EL BULTERE)
Once there was a vulture that pecked my feet. He already had torn my shoes and stockings and now he pecked my feet. He always threw a peck, he flew around in restless circles and then the work continued.
A gentleman happened by, looked at us awhile and asked me why I tolerated the vulture.
I told him - I am defenseless. He came and he began to peck me, I wanted to frighten him and even was planning to die, but these animals are very strong and he wanted to jump to my face. I preferred to sacrifice my feet. Now the pieces are almost done -.
The gentleman said - do not allow him to torture you, throw him, and the vulture will give up -.
- Does it seem so? - I asked - Do you want to take care of the issue? -
The delighted gentleman said; - I don't have more than to go home to look for my rifle, are you able to wait a half hour more? -
- I don't know - I responded, and for an instant I was rigid with pain;; Afterwards I added : - If you please, try anyway. -
- Okay - the gentleman said, - I am going to hurry. -
The vulture had listened to our dialogue calmly and he missed the look between the gentleman and I. Now I saw that he had understood everything: He flew a little, he moved back to achieve the necessary impetus and as an athlete that throws the javelin, he inserted his beak deep into my mouth. I felt like a liberation when falling backwards; Then in my blood, he satisfied all of his depths and he flooded all of his banks, the vulture irreparably drowned .
