Kenny Chui, Period 6, 2/7/2022

 Creativity & Fiction

Craft a piece of FAN fiction related to any of the reading we’ve done in class

• Literary elements (i.e. structure, tone, diction, mood, irony, and figurative language) to craft a narrative.

• Structural features of drama (stage directions, character attributions/tags, dialogue, monologues, and/or soliloquies) to craft a script.

• Multidimensional characters to develop themes and create socio-political metaphors.

The nihilistic monologue of the Dragon from “Grendel”

There is no past. There is no future. There is only now–the present–this current moment that my physical body is tied to. Why do I say such things? Because I know it. Because in a way that lower beings like you, oh dear reader, could not comprehend… I can see them all. From the beginning of this timeline, and on to the next, all things are but a consequence of compounded chance. Your very existence comes from specks of dust drifting together, and when you’re gone, which is pretty soon honestly, it will go back to that state. Just some atoms that happen upon each other, making shapes that temporarily hold on for dear life. Even your kind is  starting to realize it already, right? That you have no chance in making a mark on space, or time, or matter, that has any meaningful purpose. Every little thing you deem important, every idea you have, is but a response to the universe saying no. Your planes are an answer to gravitational forces, your phones allow you to communicate with others despite being on the other side of the world, medicine to slap a handful of extra years on one's life, etc. But when the universe no longer exists–when you and I no longer exist, and the next universe expands and contracts upon itself over and over and over and over again, who will need a plane? Who will need a phone? Who needs to live?

All you can try to do now is understand how your limited reality works, for the limited number of people coming from your race to then fail at understanding, and then turn away to lounge in the life you made just a smidge easier. What a waste, honestly, that your generations try to grasp at your accumulated knowledge like grasping at sand with your human hands, while only a select few can figure out that shovels are so much easier. Why waste your little time on such a pointless future of your race, when you know that they’ll go around killing eachother with it anyway? 

That reminds me of that violent child, that son of Cain. Grendel was his name. A violent idiot, really. He had come to try at my knowledge, however much he could scrounge, but of course, he couldn’t fathom an ounce of my words. He was placing hope in the lies of even lesser beings than himself: you folks. *sigh* What a joke. In every meadhall, humans hire a Shaper, a musician of sorts, that tells stories and shapes your history with twisted truths, embellishments all over. Tall tales, pleasing words, all to stroke the ego of whichever human they sang about, or to call anything that wasn’t like itself nor served them, a moster. Imagine wanting to trust and befriend an ant that hates you, fears you, and downright wants to kill you. It’s so ridiculous it still riles me up. But do you know what I told him?

It doesn’t matter if you scare them, hurt them, kill them or not. Either you do it, or something else they call a monster will. The only two things for sure is that they will never accept you because they don’t understand you, and that monsters like you push them forward. You are the universe saying no to their joy, peace of mind, and pleasure. 

Just like the planes and phones of their future that you, reader, will have, they make things to combat that no. They bring men from all over to try and fight. They make better weapons and armor to kill. The Shapers inspire them with new, even more embellished stories. They make meaningless meanings in making their lives sleightly more bearable for however long they do. Compared to all the things I have analyzed, the “intelligence” of mankind is the least comprehensible yet. Perhaps it is my age. Perhaps it is my omniscience. Whatever the case, just do whatever you want or give up. Personally, I’ve taken to sitting on a hoard of gold and sitting on it. Hopefully you’re one of the lucky few lower beings that will get it.