Sidenote before you read: You may not understand this unless you've read or watched Beowulf, you should probably read it seeing that its the original and the way the author wanted it to be, not some lame excuse for a remake the movie was. anyway this was an assignment in class that i'm very proud of so enjoy
I was once a powerful monster but now I can feel my power dwindling as I write this unfortunate tale. I lived in the darkness, completely comfortable in my dwelling, but then the 'music' started. The terribly joyous noise caused pain to my very being. Soon I couldn't take it. Night fell and I crept from my home of the marshes. The all-to-cheery noise had come from the large, overly decorated hall. I entered there first. Inside the hall I found many drunken warriors, snoozing on the floors. My thoughts came fast, like a flash of lightning, and like lightning I put them to action. I stole thirty men right from their beds, crushed them with my claws, and carried them out of the hall. Their blood dripped behind me as I returned to my lair. I was proud of my night's revengeful deed.
My spree continued for years. I had triumphed. The men who were once cheerful were now heavy with grief over their fallen comrades and fear of their own demise. The once great hall was now an empty tomb to whomever entered. I kept this war against men alive. I sought no truce, wanted no peace, only to pay a crime with another. I killed as often as I could. Waiting and stalking the king's warriors, I was always there, just unseen. As much as I killed, I never dared to touch the king, for he was protected by God. I, being the monster that I am, can never know that love of God.
After a few killings, I was reminded of a time when I was a small being, but still just as monstrous. I found that, no matter how sadistic it may sound, I enjoyed ending the life of anything around me. I would sneak out of our watery den and into the forest and 'play' with the small creatures that lived within. Birds, rats, the occasional young deer, all were my prey. Their skin and bones so breakable, their life so brittle, I savored each moment of it. As I grew, I found that the small animals of the forest did not fill my sadist desires of killing. One night, when I was asleep, I was disturbed by a noise, a noise so pure and happy, it made me sick. I followed the sound and found hall Herot. It was filled with drunken men and my taste buds pleaded for a taste. I waited and they all fell into a drunken slumber. I believe you know the rest.
After many nights of killing, I crawled out of my home as if it was an old habit. I journeyed straight to the door of the hall, and ripped it open. It was then that I stopped because I felt a strange sense of danger. Almost like I would be in peril if I continued. The terrible aura I felt gave me the feeling that I could possibly die. But I shook it off, like I would allow myself to perish in this hall. I almost laughed at the thought, but stopped myself so I wouldn't wake the men.
I was almost surprised to see the soldiers sleeping, but then my heart laughed and I thought of tearing the life out of the many bodies surrounding me. I grabbed the first sleeping form I came to, cut his body with my teeth, drank the blood that ran through his body. I killed the man, snapped his life shut, then I moved to my second victim of the night. I grabbed for the next body, and was instantly grabbed myself. This man leaned up on one hand. Who was this man with such hard hands? I couldn't help but be fearful. I tried to break free, but nothing could break my hands from this powerful stranger. I forgot about the desire I had earlier for the flesh and my mind was filled with one thought. I wanted to flee from this place, back to my home.
Suddenly, the man stood erect. His grip tighten severely, and I felt my wrists cracking. The once sleeping men woke and shook with fear as our battle swept around the hall. We banged against the walls. I feared he would never let go of my claws even if they left my arms. Soon, I saw that this man, protector of men, meant to hold me till my life ran dry. Some of the warriors around us leapt up and raised their swords. They were determined to protect this man who was battling me. They tried to hack at me, but all of their attempts failed, because I could not be scratched by the sharpest iron. This ability had helped so many times but wasn't wanted now. I would have traded it for the strength to pull free from this man.
What should I do? Oh the pain! How could this simple human be causing me this much pain? I must act fast, or I could lose. But what can I do? My arm! Simply being touched my this man sends pain through me! The rest of the men are waking! A man just called this one Beowulf. Beowulf is it? Well Beowulf, you have won.
I saw that the strength I had was draining and I twisted in pain. My arm snapped at the shoulder, bone and muscle splitting. The battle was over, and I ran. Like I said before, I would never allow myself to die in Herot. I crawled back into my home and waited, writhing in pain. Now as I write this I can feel my life closing. As I finish my story, I feel darkness coming. Mama, I'm sorry. I will enter Hell soon.