© The National Gallery, London |
The Black Rhino-Thing
There it was. It was just standing there, eating hay. I didn’t know what it was. It looked like a cross between a dog, hippo and rhino. It looked like a machine or something. Like its every move was programmed in and it was just a robot from the future.
It looked so sad. I couldn’t help but go up to a person in the crowd. Everyone was just standing, laughing and staring at the poor creature. I wondered how so many people could get amusement when a poor and innocent animal looked so weak, sad and ill. It was as if all the happiness had been sucked out of it with a syringe and it wouldn’t stop sucking until all the happiness was gone. Every last drop.
Then I saw someone. It was a boy. He looked about 17, the same age as me. The look on his face was full of pain and hurt. I could tell he felt sorry for the creature so I went up to him to ask him what was going on.
‘Excuse me? I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind telling me what’s going on, it’s just this creature, it doesn’t deserve this!’
Then, all of a sudden, I heard a whipping noise. I turned to see the rhino being beaten, but it didn’t move at all. It didn’t even groan. And I saw all of the smug faces sitting behind the rotten wooden barrier that caged the poor rhino up.
‘Why on earth are they doing that for?!’ I yelled as the whipping finally stopped. I turned to look at the young boy. ‘They do it for amusement, except I don’t think that it’s very funny, do you?’ and his face dropped again. ‘Of course I don’t!!’ |
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