my own short version of Grendel (a follow up book on Beowulf)
I love taking a stroll in my forest: this way I escape the stench of our cave
and gaze down once more at my future pray. My mom does not mind when or where I go. Sometimes, I hear her moan in the night: just another terrible dream. I find it amusing how she can barely grumble, nothing more: on the other hand, how in the world did I end up learning this language of men? Ah, men… Some I pity, while some send shivers down my spine with their thoughtless actions. Countless times, I attempted to open their eyes, but what I say, they perceive as threats. When I come back to our layer with my worried thoughts about men, I meet mama’s eyes. They stay iced like the winter’s river, upon not finding food in my hands. Even though she never understands when I tell her about my troubled encounters, at least she comforts me with cuddling.
Before, I thought the only difference between the men and I was that they did not have as much fur. That paucity made them cold; therefore, they protected themselves by building, and living in a castle. Seriously, doesn’t that make sense? But silly me, I supposed wrong in my youthful years. These humans thump down any stranger they see, and I happened to pass by them… They bribe themselves into glory and fame with mead and sweet songs of the Harper. His melodies flow while patting their heads, illuminating their false bravery. They set out into battles, where they burn villages and scavenge the cattle like savages. Yet, even I fall for those seductive lyrics. However, the songs affect me in the opposite way: it addresses me as a devil. The old wise man (yes in spite of the meaningless lines that came out of his mouth, he knew how to reach his goal: the knowledge gave him the capacity to bring pride to the house of raiders and drunkards) calls me a monster, a creature sent from hell, meant for destruction from one of the men. I laughed and rolled, “So come out you pathetic warriors, take me on, and I will pop your foolish heads!” None came. Of course, anger steamed from my ears in response to his artificial phrases, but…but similar to a child I rush up to the first traveler I observe on the wood path. “ I am one of you, please take me in, I mean no harm!” I weep standing afar, trying not to scare. In addition, two horsed men join in to strike me with their weapons…not meaning to tare through flesh; I push away with claws and dash. A sense of miss belonging fills me after leaving the battle scene. “Am I an empty, worthless spot to humankind?” I drag to my house, with a trail of ruby paw marks behind.
To be honest, at times I longed to feast with all the nobles, but that desire lasted minutes. More then ever, I hungered to bite into the denizens of herot. Especially after my visit to the dragon, I realized my right to punish them, my right to enjoy and live as a true monster. Furthermore, nothing stops me, my claws easily wipe off these humorous warriors in a wink, and even their spears fail to penetrate me. I feel not a trace of guilt while indulging this scene of falling men and gushing blood: I smile and laugh. Therefore, I thought, that no one ever should come to challenge me. Nevertheless, my intrusion begets turmoil and a scramble for a real hero. Unlike myself, I shake and crumble before him. His arms tare me apart, without a slightest trace of fear…
