A Saturday night in a jail cell

I cannot help but wonder how I ended my Saturday night in this murky cell at three in the morning; head pounding, heart-racing, and irritation at some androgynous woman named Kelly who has been trying to woo me since I was thrown in here. After only an hour, I know that she is divorced, has 3 children and is against anyone who does not share her views. As time passes, I observe my surroundings and realize it is very cold in this cell and the only light i am able to see is the one in the long hallway that I stumbled down not too many hours ago. The cell is very cramped and there is a busted pipe underneath the toilet that constantly drips which adds to my distaste for the current predicament I am facing. All I want to do is to sleep but of course the bed is so uncomfortable that I might as well be laying on concrete. So I stare at the ceiling instead, tuning out Kelly’s voice and asking myself how long it will be until I get my phone call.

This entire situation is a complete misunderstanding. My bloodied attire does not put me at fault. I shot him in self defense. I have the right to bear arms so I do not see how I ended up being taken to jail. Robberies had become a common occurrence within my neighborhood recently so I had gotten a gun for precautions. I had come home earlier than usual and heard questioning sounds, instantly grabbing my gun for protection. As I quietly go up the stairs, all that is heard is the rustling of drawers opening and closing. I nervously round the corner to enter the first bedroom and am immediately met with an empty space. Blowing out a breath I did not know I was even holding, I brace myself before going to search the next room. 

When I push the room's door open, I am instantly ambushed and he is on top of me. We are knocked into the hall and my gun has slid out of my reach. The unknown burglar sees that the gun has fell and we both jump to retrieve it. He reaches and twists my arm which is closest to the gun. Yelling out in pain, I turn so that he is behind me and slam him into the wall. As he slams into the wall, the hanging portraits fall and glass shatters throughout the hallway. I run to get the gun and he jumps on me taking us both down again. He grabs a piece of glass and attempts to lodge it in my shoulder. It almost misses but scrapes my skin. Despite the blood dripping, I am able to grab the gun. When he notices, he goes to stab me in the chest. Before he is able to, I shoot him in his torso. Shocked, he freezes and his blood is now staining my clothes. I push him off of me and point the gun directly at his head.

 Suddenly, the police barges in my home and instructs me to freeze. I drop the gun and raise my hands not wanting to pose as a threat. They advance towards me and cuff my wrists, not asking any questions. They yell requesting that the intruder gets medical assistance. Moments after, I am thrown in the back of a police car and see the thief being wheeled into an ambulance. I was thrown in jail solely based on the fact that I shot a man, no questions asked.

A new tale to tell

I don't believe there are any new tales to tell. As life goes on, the tales may differ but the theme stays the same. History seems to repeat itself in that sense. The characters change but the train of thought in humanity seems to stay the same. Back in the olden days, society attempted to pretty much view the world in black and white; you were either good or bad. If you happened to be bad, you were executed and because of that, it would be seen as like a way of purification (killing all the bad guys to keep the world safe). Now, people are quick to throw the oppressor in to jail with the same thought process. Except they are now more likely to get the wrong person because society is more quick to cry wolf and pass judgment. The victim of a situation should play a part in the final decision of a criminal if they are still alive. Life in jail without parole could be better than the death because they have to live with the consequences of what they've done on their shoulders everyday until they die. To me, the death penalty would seem like an easy way out.

Truth

Truthfully, I am VERY late with this post.

Truth is a main factor within the story of Grendel. Throughout his life, there are a lot of unanswered questions and a constant search for what is real and what is a lie. Grendel seeks truth but that is easier said than done. Within every lie, there is some truth, which means Grendel has to make personal decisions on what to believe and what not to pay any attention to. The closest being to the "truth" seemed to be the dragon. He gave off a vibe of honesty. Because of his longevity of life, he feels that there is no reason to lie with all of the knowledge he holds. He plays with one's mind but in the end, he explains what is asked of him to the best of his ability. He seems to have a more solid outlook on what life is and an acceptance of what is to come. He seems to live life in a predetermined way because he "knows everything, including how he will die." He doesn't try to go against fate. He doesn't seem himself to have a fighting chance and believe that all decisions are the only way to live because it has already been predetermined by the "Higher One." He sees himself as a witness to the life and death that will happen to Grendel. But what if Grendel fought against what he was "destined" to become? Do you think he could've changed his fate in a way?

Modern Day Beowulf

People are quick to want to label the "bad guy" as Grendel. When honestly, I don't believe there is a good or bad guy in the world. That's like saying there are only two colors; black and white. In today's world, I feel like everyone has an ulterior motive. Someone is always trying to get the upper hand rather than be "equal," like the United States is portrayed to be. Without all of the facts and a recollection from both perspectives, there can never be a true answer as to who is wrong and who is right. America gives the world what they want them to know so we can build biased assumptions without fully understanding a situation. I actually hate the Syria conflict. America always has to be the "noble" ones, if everyone else is declining assistance, there has to be more to the story. Because of the United States past actions, I can't help but to think that if we help, there has to be some type of benefit as a result. The nation was built upon peace, equality, and rights but, in my eyes, America has detoured so far away that those words seem to no longer hold the same value.

Me

Well I am Brianna. I'm the middle child. I'll be 17 on the 9th of February. My dog's name is Mocha, she's about 5 years old now. My older brother lives with me but my younger sister lives in Alabama. Food and Music complete my life. I would rather be out and about than to stay home. My phone is pretty much a necessity. Retail therapy keeps me sane. Shopping always makes any situation lighter. I am not a morning person in the slightest. I wouldn't be able to handle school in the mornings without my daily runs to Dunkin Donuts. I'm pretty sure that I am going to join the Track team again this year. The meets are really fun and energetic with the right crowd. I am a sprinter. Long distance just isn't for me but, we're working on my stamina. I think that by joining the team, I enjoyed the new friends I had made the most. Last year was pretty decent. School isn't what I thought it would be as an official "upperclassmen." I don't really like my schedule but maybe I'll like it more as the year goes on. Instructional support is the worst. Assigned seats and pretty much no talking? She's clearly lost. How can I get help from someone if I can't move or talk? She needs to be more lenient. Uh , I'm pretty much out of things to talk about , but I guess this is "Me."