One Hundred Years of Solitude

loud bellowing of a calf that
was coming from nearby.
When they got there a group
of men were already pulling
the monster off the sharpened
stakes they had set in the
bottom of a pit covered with
dry leaves, and it stopped
lowing. It was as heavy as an
ox in spite of the fact that it
was no taller than a young
steer, and a green and greasy
liquid flowed from its
wounds. Its body was covered