Santiago and Beowulf Narrative
The intercom overhead rang out, “Flight 32 is now boarding.” and echoed throughout the bustling airport. Santiago grabbed his worn bag and slowly made his way towards the automatic doors. The tarmac radiated a blistering heat and in the distance he saw oceans that reminded him of the home he had left behind, this was his last connecting flight before he made it to New York and part of him still craved that salty, warm air over this ice box.
Santiago found his seat quickly and tucked his bag under his seat with marvelous efficiency. A large bulky man dropped into the seat next to Santiago that made him curious if the plane rocked on impact. Santiago learned over and said, “I hope you don’t mind me asking young man, but what is it that you do for work? I would do anything to have such strong hands on my boat.” The burly man looked Santiago over and wrinkled his nose in disgust at the strong smell of fish coming from him and replied, “I am Beowulf, leader of the Geats, I would never stupor to fishing on a boat for a living. I have slayed sea monsters and other hellish creatures with only my bare hands, where is the heroism in sitting around and water for your prey?”
Santiago was aghast, in a mere moment this man had insulted every part of his life. He could feel the scar that marred his hand burn as his anger began to rage. His voice turned cold as he said, “Beowulf, it is obvious that you have used your immense strength to make up for the skill and knowledge you lack because to fish, is much more than to just sit on a boat.” Santiago began to recount the story of how he spent days on the ocean in great fight with the most beautiful marlin he had laid eyes...
