As I travel through the marsh on this dark and eery night, I start to smell the delicious flesh of men up in Herot.  Flesheaters’ paradise is heavily guarded tonight which is odd since I am always welcome in the palace.  I go down the dark hallway and stumble upon a soldier in bright, shiny armor. I gobble up his body, and I munch on his delicious blood and bones.  I have been craving human flesh for twelve years now, so I eat every inch of that delicious soldier. I continue down the path where I find my next victim lying still and sleeping quietly.  I lean over to devour my food, but suddenly he grabs my hand. A mix of emotions goes through my mind. This has never happened before, and I do not know what I should do. Should I stay to fight this warrior or should I go home where I know I will be safe?  I decide to take the risk, and I attempt to fight Almighty’s warrior.  He is as powerful as God, but I, the son of evil, fight back just as hard to allow evil to triumph.  Beowulf rips my throat and throws me viciously across the room as Herot shakes.  I am so tired, and I am not strong enough to continue in this fight. When I think Beowulf is going to kill, he rips off my arm.  I have never felt so much pain in my entire life. My shoulder stings, and I know my time is running out. I run home because I know I am not strong enough to defeat the mighty Beowulf.  I return to the comfort of my home with my two legs and one arm in tack. As my life is coming to an end, my only regret is that I did not stop to kill one last time.