Just a little note, the "it" and "he" is the animal. When it says animal and beast it is the humans outlook on him.
Sitting in darkness. Lying on a cold surface, hard and uncomfortable. Cramped, trapped behind bars, in a space too small. Bars of metal, silver and unfriendly. The air is damp and stale. People walk around the cage. Watching their catch, minds filled with honor and pride. Inside its trapped, he can’t escape, can’t return home, to outside.
Outside the world is green. The air is crisp and fresh. Birds joyously sing and leaves dance overhead. The sun is bright, warming the air. There’s shadow and light; water and earth; air and fire; predator and prey. But that is only a dream, now becoming a distant reality.
This new place is wrong, unnatural, a living hell. Nothing is no longer real, it’s fake and made. Trapped behind bars, so distant and cold.
Humans stare and laugh. They smell of sweat and smoke, bitter and unsweet. It’s unnatural as they continue to stare.
Behind bars huge golden eyes stare back. Afraid and timid; depressed and confused. Two golden tokens stare back.
Once filled with pride and joy; ferocity and honor. It sees this hell and dreams of home.
The grassy land, swaying in the wind. The cool trickle of water down its throat. The taste of a fresh kill. The untainted air. The light blue sky and deep blue of night. Twinkling stars and shinning moon.
In the Distance from the outside world it hears a howl. Low and beautiful; mournful and alone. From behind the bars its ears prick. His eyes filled with longing. It tries to sit but can’t. The cage is too small, it’s trapped.
In sadness and longing it howls back; filling the room with a reverberating sound. Suddenly angered a man stands, stalks to the cage, and kicks the animal, the beast.
The animal falls and growls. It knows his place. He is the alpha but has been trapped and is now alone. Caught by the unnatural, the man, and introduced to hell.
“I think he needs to be taught his place in this world,” the man grumbled. He turned and retrieved a bat.
A bat of oak, old and used.
The man opens the cage door and the others come join in the fun.
He growls, hackles raised. Dark fur shines beneath fluorescent light. He is ready to fight, to teach his captors a lesson. He will not be broken, not until his dying day.
The animal cautiously emerges. Lean and elegant; the epitome of wildness and freedom. Ready to fight, then…
Relentlessly the men hit the creature. The one they call a beast. They beat him.
The animal growls and growls, holding his ground, his position.
He is left bleeding and broken.
Black fur, once so beautiful, is matted with blood.
The eyes, once filled with pride, are gone. Pain and confusion has taken its place.
Why? What happened? What did he do? Do to deserve this? What are these things? Who are these beasts?
“Serves him right, filthy beast.”
He cries. Cries for the pain, the loss, the reality that is hell. The reality that is man. The brutal and cruel behavior. The will and want to be the best. The need to kill, the need for pride and honor. But at what price?
His eyes slowly close. Behind the darkness he dreams. Dreams of home, of green grass, cool water, bright sunlight, blue skies, the moon and stars, dancing leaves, blowing winds, and family.
His mate, a small powerful female; slim and gray with gentle eyes. Her abdomen round and bulging. The pups he will never see; the life that is gone. It dreams of a place foreign to man. Home.
The picture starts to fade and his breath becomes shallow. Here he dies.
Freedom dies of Tyrannts, and it dies slowly in agony, when cowards stand by to let such abysmal tragedy happen every day, in many different ways, be it the wolf, wild mustang, etc, or the ones we tamed and now leave to die in the streets, unable to forage for themselves. Freedom dies slowly, and then ours, for cowards don't deserve it. I shall save this most excellent write in my library, thank you, and Bless you! Jasmin Horst