Heorot Narrative

The beast limped towards me, its eyes glowing red like the color of my blood, adrenaline pumps quickly throughout my body, it charges, hooves clacking along the cold dirt floor, its shaggy fur dripping with warm crimson blood. My breath is fast as I leap towards it, dagger raised. It punctures the soft skin, tearing the flesh of its bony chest. I follow the pattern; leap, stab, tear, duck, roll, aim for thigh and roll again. It howls in rage and leaps at me, its claws outstretched, I hold out my blade as it crashes into it, the knife reaching its' now motionless heart. Another comes at me, wanting to seek revenge for its fallen brother. It roars, spikes flaring in and out of

Grendel approaches the mead-hall very silently, Getting ready to attack my men violently. However, this shall be his last evil feast, For with my bare hands I shall slay this beast! The monster devoured the first man in sight. I lay awake in my sleep preparing to fight, Yet Grendel continues to feast without a clue. Suddenly, my hands grip his claws like glue, And around the mead-hall we dance. Grendel is not willing to give me a chance, But I know he is cowering in fear. The end of this fight seems to be near; Therefore, I can feel his power waning. With my great strength and training, I rip an arm off of this ugly spawn of hell. Grendel’s overwhelming fear is easy to tell; He cowardly flees back to his wicked cave. Since this job was done

Today has been one crazy day! First of all I sailed to Denmark. It was a long journey, but I enjoyed it. I saw many fish and even managed to catch one for my dinner. When I finally arrived in Denmark it was quiet and peaceful. I went to meet the king of Denmark. His name was Hrothgar. He was a very pleasant man. He was small, hairy but very cheerful. He was so pleased to see us because I told him we was here to kill the terrifying Grendel. That night in the hall, there was a huge feast. It had been specially prepared for beowulf and our team as a welcome from the king. Everything that day went as planned and grendel was slain and beowulf became king.

I awoke from my nap with a jolt. There was a man stabbing his sword over and over again into my belly. What is with these people and swords? He yelled out that his name was Beowulf but all I could do was howl in pain. “Please stop!” I screamed but he didn’t stop. That made me very angry and so I pushed him off and prepared to fight. We fought for a long time before he finally defeated me and as my world slowly went black all I could hear was the tapping off claws and then my mother’s

Its eyes, once filled with innocence, now bore a malevolence that chilled me to the core. The weight of my sins pressed down upon me, a burden too heavy to bear. In the dead of night, when the world slumbers, I hear his footsteps echoing in the corridors of my mind. I wake and see the eye piercing through the air.

Gasping hard and feeling my lungs expand with every breath, the sharp ringing in my ears continues. The burning in my eyes caused from all my sweat running down. I never, well not in the least, come near to death, but what did I expect, I’m Grendel. Everyone just thinks of me as a demonic man eating monster, all people do is judge. I gaze down and all I see is the trail my blood made where my arm used to be, making it easier for him to find me. I sit there and think. Should I keep running? Is it ok to stop and breath for a second? I decide to continue to run while all I can think about is what Hrothgar did to my father. Was it really fair?

“The cruel monster made no answer, but just jumped up and reached out towards my men, grabbed two like a pair of puppies and dashed them on the ground: their brains ran out and soaked into the earth. Then he cut them up limb by limb, and made them ready for supper. He devoured them like a mountain lion,

I met Travis James Votaw in the summer of 2005, at Victory Church. Each of different family members were connected with one another. Our moms were dance moms, little sister’s were in a dance class, our dad’s were in the same men ministry at our church. Needless to say, we had a lot of connections of meeting one another. My family and I never had a family that we just “clicked” with. The Votaws were just like us, only from South Texas! I remember my mama telling me that we were going to go on a day trip with the Votaws to Mt. Scott in Lawton, Oklahoma. We spent the whole day with them, it was so much fun! The one memory that I remember the most from the trip was the car rides. Kimi rode with my parents and Jessi (thank goodness they didn’t scare her off! ☺) I rode with John, Shirley, and the boys. For some reason the Votaws had a giant bag of mini pretzels. John declared a challenge for all of us to do, it was to eat the inside of the pretzel without destroying the outer ring. Needless to

On this day I had to fight. Those who knew that I was here to fight the beast did not believe that I could defeat him. I had boasted that I could defeat him for I am a well known fighter. I believed that I could conquer him with my bare hands, seeing as nothing else could hurt him. Everyone who has attempted to attack the beast has lost and lost horribly. Tonight is the night that he chose to attack. Grendel tore through the doors and devoured one of the men. He tore threw him like it was nothing he had not done a million times. I knew that he was a beast and I knew that he had murdered, but this was worse than anything my mind could conjour up. He intended for me to be his next victim. I though, had other plans. With every ounce of strength

We, as readers, are equivalent to the priest in the story who warns his fellow villagers that “the devil had the bad habit of making use of carnival tricks […]” (544). Or maybe we side with the old medicine woman “who knew everything about life and death […]” and announced him as an angel (543). My point is that things cannot just be left unexplained and accepted as is. Instead, they must be dissected and have judgment and opinion offered from every angle. The mysterious nature of this creature’s existence is the central problem of the story but the main idea underneath it all is the search for understanding.

It was a bright hot summer day here in Little Pine First Nation, where the events took place. The chief and councillor’s had organized a fun filled day with family and friends spending it with one another. As the hot dreadful heat of the day goes by slowly the community is together as one enjoying the music blasted. The bass was pounding on my concession booth the good old country music that everyone likes. Kids are screaming, parents are cheering, cars and trucks are ramming, horses are stomping as they too are getting excited for the big day to start.

Everyone in Herot were singing, eating, and talking like always. I have always wanted to go to one of those celebration, but was never invited and last time I went everything turned out wrong. Even though I knew what was going to happen, I decided to go. I came out of the marshes and went straight to Herot. When I came out of the marshes there were no warriors there, they have all went to Herot, to celebrate. When I got to Herot, all of the warriors were asleep. I decided to go back to the marshes, but all of the sudden I felt someone attack me. It was Beowulf; he was attacking me from everywhere. I was screaming and swinging my arms, but it wouldn’t help. He began grabbing my arm and trying to tear it apart, but I kept on fighting back. I have never met no one with with such hard hands like his. It’s like Beowulf knew I was coming, that he stayed up all night waiting to attack me by surprise. The fight had finally came to a conclusion Beowulf had ripped my arm from my body and I was bleeding endlessly.

It’s Thursday, September 15 my supervisor Sherry Smith calls me into her office and tells me I have to go to Northwest Miami-Dade to evaluate a family of four. The first thing that comes into my mind is, “Oh great another Hispanic family.” She explains that there have been several domestic abuse complaints and they need me to be there by 6 o’clock today. I look at the time and it’s already 4:50 PM. Our office is in Fort Lauderdale; all I can think about is the traffic while making assumptions of the family. The last thing she ends with is, “Call me if you need me, I don’t want another melt-down.” In my last journal entry, I wrote about how I was in Northwest Miami-Dade and I had my third Hispanic family, but our values didn’t coincide even

Above is a faintly restored wedding photo of my mother and father, Mary Elizabeth and James Edward. When my Mom passed at the young age of 41, my Dad did not have the benefits of "family or parental leave" as referenced in a wonderful article honoring Fathers last month in the Huffington Post. But he owned a taxi business for many years experiencing a monumental evolution from a yellow cab to red and black to his own WEJ Inc. Simple transitions for some but not for a young "negro" serviceman from Georgia without a high school diploma. However he told me that a good friend who happened to be Jewish helped him to start and own a business. Initially he tried a restaurant but the taxi business is what flourished.

It is also assumed that the act of telling a story can provide insight into past, present and future events (Espinoza, 1997). By going through this process, individuals can find the importance of certain events and assign roles to people who are a part of their story. This act can allow a client to find new meaning and understanding to their reality (Espinoza, 1997). Not only is a