No New Tale To Tell

Ah, the ages-old question of what women really want.
As if we're foreign beings or something. The idea that most authors of this period put forward - since, for the most part, none of them were female - was that women were these indescribably alien creatures with silly ulterior motives and not a bit intellectually inclined. What I think Chaucer illustrates well with the tale of the wife of Bath - and I love him for this - is that women are equal to men, a concept quite ludicrous in the Middle Ages, and still, to some extent, to this day.
Side note: I don't think that this applies to everyone. Feminism isn't about tearing men down until they're equal to the second-class level of women; rather, it means to build women up until they are equal to the status of men. I think what women really want is to be treated like any other human being - they want to be able to make their own decisions, and hopefully have a partner that loves and supports them for it. Some women will choose to dominate their husbands - something that was so uncommon in those days - and some will choose to be old-fashioned "housewives", and there's nothing wrong with that either. The problem that feminists have is people assuming that you have to be one way or another, and that really ticks us off.
But, really though, the Wife of Bath is just a great character. Not only does she settle the gender debate, she also settles the debate on this idea of a "caste" system and what it means to be poor.
Moral of the story? Women aren't things and can't be told what to do; it's not where you come from, it's where you're going; and money can't buy you happiness.
Really, there's no new tale to tell.

Truth

Does truth come in the form of the cynical dragon, telling you that you are nothing but a blink in the eyes of time? A dust mote, a particle of carbon, a totally inconsequential being that lives for but a second in the infinity of time? 
No, that can't be right.
So, perhaps it is the Shaper, telling you that you are nothing but evil but that everyone around you is magical and wonderful and great and heroic.
Nah, that's not right either. 
So, what is the truth? Is Grendel a cold-blooded killer, a maniac, a fiend? Or is he just a confused little boy? A victim, even?
But if Grendel is the victim, is Beowulf a bad person for wanting to protect the Danish people from a monster that had ravaged their homes and pillaged their livestock?
What's the truth? The only answer I can think of is 'a two-edged sword'. 
Some people may argue that Grendel was born bad; I don't think that's true. Should he have run around the countryside gobbling up anyone who came across him? No. Even if he was abused and demonized by the humans, that doesn't give him the right to take someone's life.
But doesn't the same go for Beowulf? Grendel may have been a serial killer (for all intents and purposes) but does that give this Beowulf dude, who doesn't even know the whole story, the right to storm in and play God?
I think John Gardner may have been commenting on the practice of the death penalty; when you have a Jack the Ripper or Boston Strangler-type "monster", don't they have to be stopped? But, wait: what if they were raised in an abusive household? What if they're not total villains?
Who's telling the truth? 
Well, it depends. I think it is very rare to have absolute truth; there are two sides to every story, and both tend to tell a little truth and a little lie.

Voldemort: Modern Day Grendel?

If you're not familiar with the story of Harry Potter (which you should be, if you have any sense of what's right and wrong) here it is in a nutshell: this guy's parents die and then he spends sixty percent of a decade trying to kill the guy that did it and then he finally figures it out.
Best story ever, really.
The murderer of Harry's parents, Voldemort, is the main antagonist (with some scary sidekicks, namely Bellatrix LeStrange.) He's demonized, fashioned after Hitler as a "pure"blood oriented racist, a thing that seems to stem from self hate (for he himself is not pure, but half, blood, as Hitler was not the blonde and blue-eyed perfect human being he envisioned.) He is cold, said to never have loved anyone or ever had a friend, and literally doesn't have a whole soul; it has been fragmented into seven unstable pieces. He's not considered human. His death is celebrated.
But was Voldemort not, at least once, a human being? I believe that nature and nurture contribute to personality; I also don't think that anyone is completely evil. Voldemort was raised in an orphanage, with a dead mother and a father who abandoned her and, subsequently, him. Was he born evil? The orphanage matron said that as a young child, he killed the pets of and tormented, controlled, other children. Was he jealous of their pets? Was he trying to make friends by impressing the other kids with his supernatural abilities (because, actually, most non-magic people, Muggles, are narrow minded and would have immediately branded him evil for being differently talented from them.) And when he did get to Hogwarts, the only real home he'd ever have, the only place he could've made any lasting, sentimental relationships, he was put into the House of Slytherin, which many in the other three houses would say made you automatically evil. (Mind you, none of those brave Gryffindors or intelligent Ravenclaws or nice Hufflepuffs ever had any Slytherin friends.) That's already seventy-five percent of the school pitted against you. Add that to the Slytherin pureblood fanatics, and you're almost completely ostracized. And since the other three house will never like you, you might as well try to get those in your own House to like you by taking up their creed: 'Purebloods are better.' By the time Voldemort found out he was descended from the great Salazar Slytherin himself (and would've had some Slytherin friends at Hogwarts), he was already an adult and had, presumably, split his soul and killed his father and grandparents - all who shunned him.
So I ask you: Did Voldemort have any reason to stay human? Anything to live for? There's a quote that says, roughly, 'You are given the love you show.' Voldemort was shown no love by a busy orphanage matron that barely had time to keep him clean, and who knows if he suffered some horrific abuse from older residents there?
Could Voldemort have been a victim? Or was he born "bad"?

Paper #1 - Description

There was the rattling, heavy thunk of the car door as it closed. Through the open windows played James Blake’s “Retrograde”, the notes floating out the window, through my hair, and into the sky.

Away, so show me why you’re strong.

Ignore everybody else.

He stood with his back to me, watching the willow branches sway in the wind, perhaps, or there with his eyes closed, waiting for me.

He turns as I approach, hearing the sound of my footsteps in the grass, albeit muffled. His eyes light up in that way they do, all sparkling crystal blue waters and light blonde eyelashes, catching the light like a kaleidoscope, reflecting every piece of me and him, all intertwined and insepaberable and strong, so very strong. Strong enough to break my heart into many pieces if he ever leaves.

But he won’t.

He hands me a rectangle of mint green tissue paper. He knows I like pretty things.

There are plane tickets to Paris inside.

****

I am back from Paris, in the same clearing from two months ago, but alone this time.

I can still remember the late nights at the cafe with him, the smell of freshly baked bread and cinnamon. I still remember the days we spent in the library, inquiring of each other French words we couldn’t recall; or, perhaps, looking for an excuse to talk to each other. I remember laying with him, talking about how we couldn’t afford this trip, but how that was okay. Because we were together, and it would always be that way. And we’d lie there, holding hands, looking into each others eyes. Silent.

Now, I am alone. Now, he is dead. Foolish, foolish me.

“Youth” by Daughter plays from the truck, through my hair and into the sky.

One day, we’ll reveal the truth -

that one will die before he gets there…

And if you’re in love

Then you are the lucky one

‘Cause most of us are bitter over someone.

I step from the clearing, to the bank of the Mississippi River.

Setting fire to our insides for fun

To distract our hearts from ever missing them.