Dear diary,
Today, I have decided to finally express my feelings, of which I do not have any, about one satisfying and one heart- wrenching situation that I have encountered over the past few years. First, I took on another killing spree, this time feasting on about thirty Danes, then I took on the almighty protector of Hrothgar’s people, Beowulf.
It all started out when I heard the Danes were having a party. I know they have a tendency to intake a great amount of alcohol, making my targets as visible as a marshmallow in a bowl of raisins. I began to brainstorm ideas on how I should take down the people of Herot, and an overwhelming sensation for their meaty, tender flesh overtook this process of neatly planning out my attack and led me directly over to Herot. As I approached the building, I reminisced on my motives for killing these innocent people, then I realized the only justifiable motive I have is that I am innately evil and a son of God’s enemy. After an easy attack on the sleepy warriors, I began my vestige of the helpless by shredding their skin in order to easily access the red, bloody meat of each brawny soldier. As blood dripped down my body, I could smell the high blood- alcohol level of each hungover partier, feel the thick, rich blood running down my throat, and even see the food coma I would be in later that day after my feast on the helpless. As I stroll out of Herot after a long day of ripping apart Hrothgar’s people I was overwhelmed with a feeling that something strong and almighty would come looking for revenge in the near future, yet nothing could overcome the competence I had to devour anything that put their presence in front of the feaster of bones, flesh, and all of the rest, me.
Onto my next adventure, twelve years later I heard rumors of a new group of so-called “warriors” coming over to speak to Hrothgar about rebuilding and protecting the land I most recently took over with my overwhelming hunger and satisfaction. I understand that I was cocky and prideful, but after winning over almost thirty human embodiments of satisfaction, it would have been hard not to voyage back over to Herot for a second chance at victory.  I was shocked to see a reoccurring setting of soldiers sleeping in Herot, but for some odd reason it gave me a feeling that this situation would play out a little different than last time. With my muscles clenched, mouth salivating, and stomach ready to be filled with the defeated soldiers, I went in for the kill. With my first encounter I enjoyed the sensation his beefy body brought to my stomach, as I did not realize this would be my last sensational treat of  a soldier of Hrothgar. As I approached my second course of this meal, a strong grasp ceased my arm from retrieving what I desired and shot my body into agonizing pain. Although I am heartless, I even felt a drop of water dripping from my eye, yet I could not figure out what this odd object was. I think it may be called a tear. I screamed out in pain for one last time before I realized that I was finally defeated by one other than the omnipotent giver of life. Being forced to walk away armless and full of shame caused me to shed a few tears as I threw up the chunks of human I had so recently enjoyed only a few minutes ago. At this point the muscular, confident monster that marched over here now just wanted his mommy to wrap him up in bed and console his first loss against earthly things.
Sincerely, I know have to write with my left hand
(my right arm is gone)