They were left to the study of academics, relegated to the realm of literary criticism. They were dismissed as creations of a poet, remnants of an ancient literary tradition.
But they were more than that, far more. Grendel and his mother were living creatures. And they were more than relics. We know, because their descendants live today. We just don't think of them as Grendels anymore. We lump them in with serial killers.
And we dismiss any hint of supernatur...
…one, accursed,
in man’s guise trod the misery-track
of exile, though huger than human bulk.
-Gummere, 1351-1354
"This heat is horrid," Butch muttered. I eyed her.
We were crouched under camo cloths between a couple of half-dead acacia bushes in an arid, sandy plain, half a mile from a dusty ranch house, the sun beating down on us all. Half an hour ago, my phone had put the West Texas heat at well over 100 degrees.
Nothing moved but a loose shutter on the h...