The End of the New Beginning

Day 6 and here I am still monkeying around with what is still the introduction really.  Readers will note that most of this is a retelling of 2 days ago, which I intend to edit to almost nothing and move to here.  And those who have read Frankenstein or watched any of the movies will see that I have changed the timing.  Where Mary Shelley had the creature come to life at 1:00am (or perhaps Victor did for effect) I have made it the afternoon.  I figure candlelight may be great for atmosphere, but no scientist should or would work at something like this without proper visibility and I wanted to give the monster time to master its own limbs before finding Victor.

So here we go. . .

Victor Frankenstein, after his most agitated wanderings, returned to his apartments completely unable to enter that most hated room where his ghastly creation lay.  He told himself that the creature’s life was most likely brief, that a life brought about in such a manner could not be sustained, though he made no effort to confirm this, but only paused momentarily at the door and listened.  Satisfied that he heard nothing he convinced himself that this must be the case.  He had not examined his subject at all after its awakening to measure heart rate or pulse.  There may not have been any.  Perhaps it never had life at all.  The consciousness that its eyes appeared to have was most likely the work of his own fevered imagination, the breath exhaled simply the emptying of lungs that he himself had filled earlier in preparation of this ghoulish experiment.  As for its convulsions, he had caused just that reaction numerous times in the past two years, mostly on solitary severed limbs.  They did not miraculously come to life.  In fact the opening of the eyes was probably that same convulsive response, not an awakening into consciousness, but the reaction of a series of otherwise inanimate nerves to an outside stimulation.

It was not alive.

Victor ran to his bedroom where he paced the floors until he had convinced himself of this enough to fall, still clothed, exhausted onto his bed.  After promising God that he would never again interfere in what was so clearly His domain, he eventually fell into a fitful sleep.

Meanwhile, after many hours of confusion, Frankenstein’s cursed creature had made enough sense of his surroundings and his own limbs to leave the table and slowly explore the room he found himself in.  A few hours more and he confronted and operated the door.   His reawakened legs seemed to contain their own memory as to their function and awkwardly, but ably, carried him from the one room to another until he came to one last door.  Through this door was something far more exciting than through any of the others, a large bed, and within its curtains another creature much as himself.  He moved the curtains aside and took a closer look.  There was a face laying on a pillow.  This face he immediately recognized as that initial object he had seen so briefly when he had first gained consciousness and he felt a happy warmth flow through him at its familiarity.  His body gave a grotesque little dance at this marvelous discovery.  He bent down to explore it further smelling its flesh and listening to its breath.  He moved to the foot of the bed and observed the shape beneath the covers.  All of this, the face, the shape, the smell was somehow something he knew, something that was his.  He stood there some time holding open the curtains admiring this wonderful new thing.  He returned to the head of the bed and reached out to touch the creature’s skin when the legs started kicking beneath their covers and the face let out a terrible moan.  Then this new, but familiar being’s eyes opened and its face stared back at him.  The sound of its breathing stopped.  The creature did not know the words horror or revulsion, but he recognized their presence all the same.  Neither did he know despair and desolation, yet he felt them most acutely.

Victor upon seeing his most hideous creation so clearly still living and standing so close by him was filled with a terror and disgust deeper than he had ever known.  He jumped out of the bed and ran from the apartment.

The creature let go the curtains and retreated from the the bed as he experienced yet another new sensation — his cheeks had become wet with tears.  He too left the apartment, after putting on a set of clothes and taking whatever mementos he could.


Author: karensnovemberbook

I am a textile artist, cafe owner and mother of two who has decided I don't have enough to do and so am going to write a novel in a month. Hey, it's easier with a clear deadline, right? Here goes. . .

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