Inspired by the book Beowulf  by Seamus Heaney

Shadows of Grief: The Heart of Grendel’s Mother

I watch as his eyes roll back into his head. The one person keeping me going. My son. Gone. His face turns slick with my tears, and I turn away plotting my revenge. Those sickeningly joyful humans ruining my slumber with gleeful noise ringing down to the lakes bottom every night. And now they have seized my boy. I have let these offenses pass but now they have crossed a line. Tonight they will pay. I shall kill their most noble warrior, his life will be the price paid for Grendel’s death. I move swiftly through the night, Grendel’s pale lifeless face motivating me with every step I take. Before long I arrived at the mead hall, its glowing presence has made me sick for decades. The bright lights of Heorot still shine deep into the night. I can see one man guarding the doors of the building, his badge shining the name “Aeschere.” He does not see me hidden behind a thicket of bushes. I hear a loud shattering noise from a group of rowdy drunk men inside Heorot and Aeschere looks away, giving me my chance at revenge. I pounce on him viciously, tearing off his arm just as they had done to my son. I look down to his face frozen with fear, not making a sound. He knows of his fate. He knows this is inevitable.  I feel his soul slipping through his body and up to the clouds. I look up and see the sun’s tentative eyes peeking over the horizon. A new day has begun.