A Monologue for the Creature

Why must my creator torment me so? It is true that I have exterminated a small number of his compatriots, but it brought me no joy to do such things. For every body I claim, I grow more guilty. Upon what I believed to be a simple request to create another like me, so that I may have one to share my solitude with, I was answered with an affirmative response.

As I looked on Frankenstein and his operation from a distance with a feeling of contempt, upset with my maker yet eager to evacuate with my new friend, he tore her apart limb from limb and left the room, locking the door to his comfort. I was ardently filled with a pain stronger than my own inhuman strengths could handle, emitting a cry of agony and torture at the sight I had just witnessed. The one hope for another like me had vanished thanks to my creator. Great God! Such a wretch is he who torments me so.

I have followed him from the highest hilltop, to the lowest valley, to the widest river waiting for him to create such another villain like me so that we may live in peace far from civilizations who would rather hurt us. I am still filled with despair! I have dreamt of possessing a love for another. Oh to be happy in this wretched form! Why must I go on suffering?

This fallen angel. This devil craving love. This tormented soul! Oh how Frankenstein might feel should this occasion occur to his own self. How he would then feel the ardent misery which trembles within me. May he then suffer as alone and unhappy as I.

I shall do this: I will make Frankenstein as lonely and wretched as myself. He may feel wicked presently, but I have the power to become my tormentor’s torment. I devise that I will keep following him, wreaking havoc in his life in some form or another, until he is finally reunited with his bride to be. There, on his wedding night, I will demonstrate to him the true pain that is felt to have a love ripped away and be completely alone.

I will take no joy in this. Frankenstein’s own hopes and dreams will cease to exist, yet I will still have none of my own. I realize this will accomplish nothing in solving my loneliness and wretchedness, but it will bring my creator closer to my own misery.

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Henry’s Bones

Here lies Henry Clerval – or so we believe, as his grave remains unmarked.

He certainly lies somewhere under this earth, still as foreign to it as his death was to this town.

Such insufficient markings cannot reflect the spectacle of it all, but as one stands on the spot where the man now lies, the feelings and memories of the past reanimate.

His lifeless form discarded on the beach is under our feet.

Our wavering certainty in the guilt of his friend still clouds our minds.

The solemnity of his burial wets our eyes and makes us reach for the hands of our companions. 

How can it be that we know so little of him – save for his name and his death – and still are so affected by what became of him?

Perhaps it is the anger that calls us back here, towards his companion who may have murdered him, and then became mad with grief and left him to wither among our dead.

More likely, the memory of this fallen man stirs in us some appreciation for the order of things. In our struggle to determine the details of his death, we examined closely the nature of humanity, what could drive one to so malign another, and decided that we were glad that this event marked an extreme that we will probably never witness again.

And so, at this conclusion, we depart from him, the only Swiss bones in a cemetery filled with Irish skeletons, and return to life.

In Sheep’s Clothes

There is a beast in my town.

I live in a quiet place, With peaceful people and friendly neighbors.

There’s a lake nearby with fish and ducks,

A forest filled with deer and rabbits.

The town is filled with smiling faces,

Happy people waving and cheering.

But I am not fooled.

I know the truth.

There is a beast in my town.

I see it in the corners of my eye,

In the shadows between buildings.

Always watching. Always hunting.

It stalks me as I walk around town,

Vanishing as soon as I turn to face it.

I’ve warned my neighbors, warned them of the danger.

And yet they continue to smile, continue to laugh.

But now that laughter is pointed at me…

There is a beast in my town.

But he won’t be able to hide much longer.

For now I have begun my hunt.

No more will I be the prey, No more will I feel fear.

I know it is out there, watching me from the shadows.

I know what I must do.

There is a beast in my town.

And every day there is one less smiling face.

The people no longer laugh, no longer wave and cheer.

They are afraid, afraid of the beast that they now believe in.

But they can’t fool me.

I know that the beast is one among them.

And every night I will continue my hunt.

Until I know for sure that I have killed the beast.

Until I know that it isn’t hiding behind one of those smiling faces.

There is a beast in my town.

And I will find it.

In the Darkness

My imagination is my escape.

I enter my house without a sound. The lights are all off. It’s late.

I’m late.

With quiet steps, I walk past the living room. Nothing stirs around me. Not until I reach the long corridor leading to my bedroom.

I walk forward. Slowly.

Do you ever get that feeling? That someone is lurking right behind you?

The lights suddenly flicker. Maybe it’s a mischievous poltergeist messing with the electricity. Maybe it’s the lightning of a faraway, nonexistent storm. Because, of course, a storm can’t form inside a house.

But I can imagine one doing so.

I hear whispers coming through the walls. Maybe it’s the voices of fairies. Introducing themselves to me. Maybe they need help and are pleading for me to save them.

But I’m the one who’s trapped.

Turn back. You’re in danger.

My heart is pounding now. Maybe I’m just hearing the pounding of bass drums in another room. Someone playing a concert with an audience of none. Or the pounding of a fist on a table. Angry pounding.

Turn back.

The lights flicker again, and for a second I see a shadow that’s not my own on the wall to my right. I turn my head a bit but I don’t look back all the way.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

A drop of sweat rolls down my cheek and falls off the edge of my jawline. Boom.

I keep facing forward but my eyes close. My mind projects an image onto the blackness.

The looming shadow, a shapeshifter, settles on one form.

Claws. Bared teeth. A hideous face. Hungry eyes. A rabid beast. With a heaving chest, but I don’t hear its breathing. I open my eyes. The lights flicker once more, and the shadow is larger than before.

Turn back.

I walk forward— now with hurried steps. The pounding in my ears grow louder.

Run.

I rush to my bedroom door, open it, go inside with my back against the wall, and shut the door. The whispers are silenced.

I reach my hand out to turn on the lights, but there’s already a small light in front of me.

I should’ve listened to the voices.

There’s a pair of dull, yellow eyes staring back at me. I also see rows of pearly white teeth. I can hear his harsh breathing now—each breath comes and goes at steady pace.

But his eyes aren’t calm. There’s a fire in them. A dull, yellow fire.

The creature takes off a long chain from his waist. I catch sight of a glimmer of gold at the center. He raises his monstrous arm up slowly.

Sometimes, my imagination can’t be my escape.

– – ♥

William in the Woods

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It’s very cold. I lost Elizabeth quite a while ago. It’s slowly getting darker and darker, the sun is beginning to hide behind the rolling hills. I try not to panic, I’m sure my family is out here looking for me. The trees tower above me and I cannot help but feel frightened. All the noises of forest scare me. I hear movement all around. The wind cruising along the leaves, or the animals trampling fallen leaves on the forest floor. I do not know what to think. I try to think comforting thoughts, such as being held by Elizabeth or being right beside my father. But the forest is growing louder, and with it, I grow more worried. I do not know how to survive in the forest alone, I’m only a child that wanted to play a harmless game. Now I am hopelessly lost. These towering trees all look the same and the ground is damp and brown.

Then all of a sudden, I hear something. It is footsteps, but not that of an animal. No, these are heavier. A human’s footsteps. Elizabeth, I’m sure it is! I hear them from behind and turn around to face my rescuer.

It’s no one I recognize. It’s no one anyone would recognize. I back away in horror. What in God’s name is in front of me? I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if it is friend or foe. I run. I cannot help it, I am only a child. I run hard as fast as I can when I hear a voice yell out, “William!” It sounds like Justine’s voice. It’s coming from ahead of me but still sounds far away. I keep running when I am snatched up from behind. Whatever it is is strong and pulls me down behind some trees. I look into it’s eyes but only for a second. The last thing I remember is that his eyes are full of pain. Then everything goes black.