When we moved to Tenerife in 2000 I explored this ruin, though it has been fenced off now. I marvelled at the intricate mosaic tiling that covered every surface - walls, tables, the bar, the toilets. I sat on a bench beside one of the sand-filled rings, imagining what it might have been like to be there with a group of friends, sharing a bottle of Sangre de Toro while real Bulls' Blood was spilled only metres away. I stood in the doorway of an animal pen looking at the deeply scratched walls, breathing in the stench of old sweat and piss and fear along with the ghosts.
You can read my short story it inspired by going to this month's issue of the online magazine.Running Out Of Ink where you will find eight short stories each month to read - and they're FREE! Go back through the issues and you will find two more of mine as well.
Running out of Ink - Home
