A/N: I know, I know! "What on earth is she doing writing a new story when she hasn't updated her others in months?" Well, fear not. I'm working on the next chapter of Chaos. And this is really only because of an English assignment. I thought it was kinda cool. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I'd be happy to continue with it if I get enough feedback.
Kat
Summary: Grendel's point of view. The first night he goes to Herot. Kinda.
It was a dark and stormy night…well, no, it really wasn't, but all good stories about evil creatures and horrific events begin with that phrase. Are you surprised that I would know that? That I would know stories? I suppose my definition of what makes a "good story" would be different than yours though. For example, I think the story of Cain and Abel, that first sordid tale, is superb in theory. The problem I have with it is the same problem I have with most stories. The focus is all wrong. The focus shouldn't be on why Cain killed Abel or Cain's punishment. The focus should be on that first dirty deed. That first murder. It should accurately describe every action, every drop of blood. Those are the things I want to know. Not Cain's reasoning, if he even had any, or his punishment. I crave the details of the horrific deed itself. But such is my nature.
Just in the event it has not yet been made clear, I am much more content in solitude than with others; in silence, not volume; in anguish rather than cheer; and surrounded by death instead of life. I also despise being crowded. Perhaps it is those qualities that led me to that loathsome hall, Herot. I could hear them. All of them singing and laughing, having a merry drunken time telling of their noble war victories long since past. I could go nowhere to stifle the sound. It invaded every crevice of my gloriously gloomy home until it no longer felt gloomy. Instead it felt almost warm and chipper, as if it had a mind of it's own. I felt a stranger in my own home. So I decided to put a stop to all the celebrating and merrymaking.
On my best days, I like to think of myself as a handsome fellow. But not that night. My think, usually gleaming fur, was bristled and standing on end in excitement and anticipation. That up near my head was pulled in odd directions from trying, in vain, to rip it out in order to distract myself from the sounds all around me. My eyes must have looked crazed and wild from going stir crazy only to taste complete freedom. I could feel my claws digging into the soft earth, and then hear them clatter softly on the stone steps of Herot. By the time I reached that despicable hall, al had quieted. However, I knew, as surely as I drew breath that they would begin again at the end of this new day. For the sake of my insanity I could not allow that to happen.