Personal Narrative-Sacrifice In The Epic Of Beowulf

Today was the day I lost my son and the great Beowulf is to blame. I feel it. I feel the emptiness that comes when a mother loses her child. I hear my son calling out for me, wishing I was there to help. I feel the broken bones and the screams that my child, my sweet baby boy, made while Beowulf tore him from this world. I feel the anger, and the ferocity of a mother bear, but i have failed to protect my cub. I have traveled to the surface, far from the safety and comfort of my cave beneath the water, to kill beowulf. I have captured him and i will kill him. His puny blade does no damage to me, for i am too strong for him. I am winning, the life slowly draining from Beowulf’s body, until i remember my greatest weakness; I am the only one who