Frankenstein Personal Response: The Creature's Final Reflection

Peace.

Such an ambiguous word, I mused as I stood, gazing transfixed at the crackling flames that would finally grant to me that which the word peace promised.

Or eternal damnation, heaven knows that's nothing less than what I deserved. I killed the innocent, the beautiful, and people who have never lifted a finger against me. However the deadly flames of anger, vengeance, and hate burned within my heart, they have consumed all voices of reason and logic, and enslaved my mind.

I turned away from the fire of the pyre and looked down on a nearby patch of clear ice.

An inhuman face stared back at me.

I closed my eyes to the dreadful sight, and, for a moment, imagined that the monster, the beast inside me, was gone, leaving the part of me that was the naïve and idealistic creature, knowing of the cruelty of the world, and yet still desiring the care and affection of man. I imagined that Felix hadn't spurned me from his home, and had taken the time to hear what I had to say. I would have been accepted, known the love humans harbored within them despite their many brutal deeds.

Alas, that was not to be. Instead I was rejected, abandoned, and hated, even by my creator, the one being who should have felt some responsibility, if not love, for me. That raging inferno of vengeance and rage have burned out, provided no satisfaction, and left only devastation in its wake, along with the ashes of what I was, what I could have been, and what I shall never be.

In the end, who and what am I? I considered myself to be the victim, the blameless and faulted humanity for all the woes in my life during that period of despair and anger, and I desired vengeance on Victor Frankenstein for abandoning me to misery when he destroyed my partner. However, now, looking back at what I had done, I thought myself a monster, just as Frankenstein and the humans I met did. Am I a heartless killer or a desperate being whose heart still longs for love even after being scorned again and again?

These questions shall never be answered, I fear. For even now I am walking back to my funeral pyre, and soon my tragic story will draw to an end. My anguish, grief, guilt and self-loathing will burn away, scattering to the four winds, and my soul, hopefully, shall be at peace.