Me and a friend, let's call her Calico, wrote this as a final project. I decided to post it, and I hope you like it.
...
"It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs."
…
It all began on that night where I made a terrible mistake. The one mistake that would haunt me for many years to come.
I had spent years preparing for this moment, when I would give the spark of life to my creation.
It was cold, the wind was howling, and the air was filled with a chill that could rattle a man to the bones. I began my experiment, and I finished my experiment, and I was met with the results I had long awaited. I had bestowed life upon the previously unanimated corpse, and it began to move. Thoughts instantly filled my head of all it could be capable of, and of all it could accomplish, but as soon as I met its cold, yellow eyes, I knew I had created a monster.
A vile abomination. A hellish fiend of nature.
As it attempted to rise from the table on which I had crafted it, I was met with a fear unlike any I had known. I instantly fled to my room, and collapsed onto my bed.
...
It was the middle of the night when I woke next, only to find my creation standing over me. Fear caused the breathing to speed, and my heart to race. But my creation, as if sensing my trepidation, backed away, my fear reflected in his demonic eyes. He soon fled the room, and I was left alone with my thoughts. It was not long before sleep claimed me once more.
…
Faint sunlight poured through my window and brought warmth to the room. In the doorframe stood my creation, who towered over me. I was confused as to why he did not choose to attack me then and there, but instead, he had a look on his face akin to curiosity. He suddenly sped off before I knew what was happening. I followed him, expecting the thing to find a weapon and do away with me. Instead, he sat at the dining room table, attentively looking through my journals and the pictures within them. This astonished me, but fear held me back from observing the spectacle.
...
That night, when he was hiding somewhere within my apartment, I placed another stack of my journals on the table, along with a quill and an ink cartridge. When he came, the pile once again attracted my creation. I began to write on some of the papers, and the wretch watched me with the same curious look. He steadily picked up another quill from its holder and ran it across a page, one that had already been stained with ink, and continued doing so until the black liquid ran out. From some kind of habit, he dipped the quill back into the cartridge as if he knew its use. Was this really the thing that I ran from? He was naive...almost like a child who hadn't learned to be defiant or corrupted. Maybe he just needs to be taught, if such a thing could ever be feasible. I was like a teacher… a parent… to this thing. If I could be anything to him, then he would need a name.
Something like… Timothy.
…
It had been nearly two years since I had breathed life into Timothy. I had witnessed him grow from a skittish, fearful, creature to a kind and nurturing person. As I had noted from the beginning, he displayed a sort of innocence and curiosity to the world around him.
And it was on this day, exactly two years after my creature's birth, that I received a visit from my dear friend Henry Clerval. He was very happy to see I was alive and well, and invited me to join him on a trip to our home of Geneva. I tried to decline in the most polite manner possible, but he insisted that my family missed me and wanted to see me. And despite the fact I desperately wanted to see them, I knew I could not leave Timothy alone. So I told him,
"I can't bring you with me….no one can know about you, they would surely kill you, as most people are not accustomed to seeing someone almost twice their size with odd looks. It won't be for too long. Try to see this as a learning experience. Read anything you wish, and please remember... staying inside will keep you from being hunted." We both smiled at my odd attempt at humor. "Farewell." I said at last.
"Farewell." he echoed.
…
Allow me to give you some context for my next encounter with my creature, for these next words shall be confusing otherwise. He ran from our apartment and ventured into the woods in hopes of finding me, and later shared his account of the events leading to this moment:
"I had decided to find you because I feared being alone. I became lost in the process and soon could not find my way. I instead roamed blindly through the thick forest. The sky called for a violent storm and I prepared by creating something to protect myself, and as the journals and textbooks I had read over the years suggested, I used all the materials nature had to offer. At first, the storm nearly destroyed everything, including myself, for it tossed trees around as if their weight meant nothing. It grew quiet as the time passed, leaving behind a gray mass above.
"Afterwards, I decided to pack all that was brought and continue on, avoiding any towns or settlements (even though I needed directions) and stayed within a safe distance from them. The effects of the storm brought floods in the lower regions and muddied the ground to a dark, slippery mush. Something happened that I did not expect because a voice- from some distance away-rang through my ears. 'Who is that?' I thought, weary to say anything aloud. It continued though and I followed the call as best my ears could interpret. There in a river, was a little girl, one who struggled against the rapant tide all while shouting and screaming. Her hands reached out to grab whatever she could, but to no avail as nothing gave her stability. Despite Victor's warning of potentially dangerous peoples, I briskly dove into the freezing depths and followed after her.
"When we managed to return back to the shore, the little girl-for the first time-got a good look at me. She suddenly shoved me with surprising intensity. 'Get away' she yelled and ran, wet and freezing.
"I ran after her, concerned she would fall into the river again, I saw her with a tall figure, presumably her father, who carried a gun. Without hesitation, the man fired it. The bullet struck directly into my arm. I darted away, finding somewhere to hide. I calmed myself when I realized they were not pursuing me.
"I became lost-knowing fully aware that I had not reached Victor's home yet-and worried as the woods grew thicker. I remembered though, the maps I brought with me. One gave the most detailed images of Europe I'd ever seen as well as my desired location. From what I knew now, Geneva was not far and it would not be too long before I reach it. Perhaps a three day journey on foot.
...
"Soon, I made it to Geneva, the home of my creator. Hopefully, I would find Victor before I found myself in anymore trouble. I stayed hidden within the woods, nursing my wounds, and made my way to the edge of the village. I needed directions to find my friend, but I couldn't ask for them. What was I to do?
"But then, I spotted a small child sitting not far from me, on a log, reading a book. Victor had educated me on what small children were like, and how they could be very kind and thoughtful. Perhaps this young man would help me. I made my way over to the boy, and cleared my throat. 'Excuse me, but could you perhaps help me find Victor Frankenstein?'
"The boy looked up from his book, and a look of both disgust and horror filled his features. He began to ramble on, and many of his words became lost to me. But I do remember his attempt to scare me off with a stick.
"This amused me greatly. But I also felt frustration that this boy still had not told me the location of my creator. 'If you are quite finished, could you now help me find Victor Frankenstein?'
"'What business do you have with him?' the young man demanded.
"'He is an old friend.' I replied. 'Can you take me to him?' The boy pursed his lips in thought. For a moment, it seemed as though he would help. But he quickly bolted up and away, into the woods. Normally, I would have easily been able to catch him. But he had taken me by such surprise that he was already gone by the time I could try to go after him. I wasn't very worried. After all, what could this boy say that wouldn't make him out to be crazy?"
…
Unfortunately, the moment my brother escaped my creation, William came flocking to our home, fear and panic within his eyes. He entered the sitting room which I, my father, Henry, and Elizabeth were in. "There was a demon in the woods." he said to our father. Our father simply laughed at the notion.
"William, I fear those stories you've been reading have filled your head with fantasies." he chided.
William frowned further, angry at being treated like at child. "The beast said he was looking for Victor."
The entire room went silent. I finally realized that William was not making a joke, but he was talking about Timothy.
"What is he talking about?" Elizabeth inquired me. I was at a loss for words. How could I explain myself?
"Some time ago…" I managed to get out. "I began an experiment to find the secret of life. And the creature you saw… he's the result of my experiment."
William stared at me with disgust. "The abomination is your doing?"
I immediately realized the depth of what I had just revealed, and a heavy dread fell upon me. But could not change it. "Yes he is my creation," I admitted, "not an abomination. He is harmless, and is a very kind creature. It is often Timothy's looks that appall people. Do not be afraid, for you shall not see him again. It is everyone's interest if I take him now."
They all still had looks of doubt on their faces, but they did not say anything. William frowned with disgust, and Henry was clearly stunned.
I awkwardly exited the room, and as I left, I heard my brother whisper, "Someone has to stop it."
…
In the morning, I woke up to a crowd of our servants surrounding my bed. They all had worried looks printed in their eyes, some with an undertone of anger.
"You must see this!" Elizabeth shouted, pulling me right out of bed.
She herded us out towards the outskirts of the woods, where she immediately stopped and gestured towards the dew-covered ground. I did not fully comprehend what lay before me until some thirty-seconds later. The body was a sickly gray, almost white, with blue veins traveling all over his neck. Immense bruises blackened as they traveled along the corpse's throat, which showcased giant handprints, twice the size of mine or anyone else's for that matter. I came to the conclusion that there was only one person who could have done this.
"I have to go" I said, still emotionally paralyzed after seeing William and the effects my creation had upon him. Despite the calls of my family, I ventured into the dark woods.
...
I continued my hike through the forest, surprised at how far I had travelled within a few minutes. Or had it been hours?
My family's voices could no longer be seen, and they disappeared further from my mind with every step I took. From the distance, I heard what appeared to be a stream that deeply attracted me until I caught sight of it.
Sitting on a log, maybe even the same log he had encountered my brother at, was my creation who settled his face into giant hands.
He seemed to be thinking about something important.
"Why did you do it!?" I demanded. It startled him, but he quickly realized it was only me.
"I did not want to hurt him!" he practically sobbed. "but he tried to shoot me. He said I was a beast that had to be plunged from the world." He fell to knees, continuing the loud cries. "Please forgive me. I didn't know what else to do."
I myself could not think of anything else to do, but cry. The realization that William was dead struck me like a cannon. "Why did this have to happen?" I sobbed repeatedly. "My dear brother….Why?!" This continued on for a long time, while Timothy remained silent, the first consequence of my crimes stained in the blood on his hands.
...
When I returned back to my family, they rushed towards me, asking me many questions about what happened. Apparently I had been out there for hours. "We were worried about you, are you alright?" Elizabeth inquired.
"Yes I am, but I know what happened to William. He-"
"It's that monster….the abomination", my father shouted suddenly. "William tried to find it, and it killed him."
"We need to find it, and put it down!" Everyone within the household agreed. Elizabeth, several of her servants, even I agreed. Though I would not kill Timothy. My plan was to hide him from the world.
...
The next morning, I left the house-making sure everyone was asleep- and came back to where I last spoke to Timothy. Surprisingly, he still remained in the area, like he awaited for my return and did not know what to do without me. He had been crying.
"Why did you come back?" he asked, staring at me.
I swallowed thickly "What you have done is unforgivable in the eyes of my family. They want me to kill you, but I can't. I brought another map, as well as plenty of food to live off for several months. When it is time for you to return, I will hang a banner from a window in Ingolstadt."
Timothy tried to say something, but I ignored it. I bid him farewell, and spent the next few months of my life cutting all ties to my creation.
...
Nearly three years after my creation disappeared, I realized it was time to bring him back home. My father was dead, and now that he was gone, there wasn't anyone who wanted to find Timothy. Those who were helping my father no longer believe my creature was real, including my now wife, Elizabeth.
It was safer now than it would ever be, so I returned to my apartment in Ingolstadt. I hung an old white sheet from the window, and prayed that Timothy would soon see it.
...
Over the course of two months, I waited for him to arrive at my doorstep. Happy to see me and ready to resume his studies. I wrote letters to Elizabeth, and did my best to convince her I was back to finish my schooling. She wrote to me often, and I would write back, but most of my days were spent analyzing my research on my past experiments. I often wondered if I should once again use my knowledge to give life to another creature.
Thankfully, what happened next stopped me from making the same mistake.
…
It was one night, and an unusually cold night.
I had put on a kettle, and had opened a window. The sound of crickets' chirps echoed through the summer eve. The stars sparkled in the sky, white eyes staring down at my apartment with their knowledge of what was to come.
When the noise of the insects became too much for me, I ventured down to my workshop. I hadn't been in there for a long time, not since I had told Timothy to stay put.
I observed all tools I had cultivated, all the scientific journals I had studied, and all the notes spread on every surface. As I picked up an old, bloody scalpel, I heard a noise from the shadows. Nervous, I made my way to the source. Hidden behind a large bookshelf was the unmistakable silhouette of my creature. "Timothy?" I asked, relieved.
He stepped fully into the light, and I couldn't help but smile. "What took you so long? I've been waiting for months!" When he still didn't respond, I continued. "We've got so much to discuss. If we pack tonight, we can leave for Geneva by noon tomorrow."
Timothy took a step forward, and extended his long arms outward. I expected some sort of embrace, but was instead met with a look of anger.
"You…" he opened his mouth, and slew of cruel words poured out of his mouth, " Are. A. Monster."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
Timothy stared back with no sign of the compassion of which I thought embodied him.
I saw his hands tremble. "I have been alone, for so long." he whimpered, tears pooling in his eyes. "I was been beaten, abused, and rejected… no matter where I went!"
There was a second that I only felt anger. "How is this my fault?"
"How is it your fault? You created me! And then, you left me alone! You made me a monster!" he screamed, placing his hands on my shoulders and shooking me violently.
"Timothy, stop." I scolded, remembering my past ways of coaxing him out of this sort of behavior.
It didn't have the desired effect, even if he did stop shaking me. He took another step forward, and he was so close that I had to crane my head to see his face.
"I finally figured it out." he said. He sat down in a nearby chair, so quickly he practically collapsed into it. "You were never my friend." Timothy whispered, as though he had discovered a dark secret never meant to be know. Which, unfortunately, he had, in a way. "I was your project. Your experiment. I was a way for you to achieve glory!
"Well no more!" he declared. "I am no longer your wretch. I am the one who will make you pay for your crimes." I took a few steps back, stumbled over forgot trash left on the floor, and fell on the ground. I had hoped he would back away, I had hoped he wouldn't do what I thought he was planning. But my hopes were crushed as his grotesque fingers wrapped around my throat.
"Y-you´re not a monster! You d-don't have to do this!" I protested. Timothy didn't say anything, yellow eyes boring into my soul. His grip loosened, and for a brief moment, I felt a smile spread across my face. I had reached through to him!
My hope was shattered as soon as my creation's hand tightened once again.
"P-please..." I begged, desperately clinging to my consciousness. Timothy´s grip only tightened.
"Goodbye, Frankenstein." he answered coldly.
My vision grew dark, blurred at the edges. I had no options left, even though I didn't want to. I reached into my coat, and stabbed my creation with the scalpel. It cut through soft flesh, and ripped Timothy's left eye from its socket. He screamed, and sent me one last angry glare, before vanishing under the shadows of the workshop, and disappearing into the night.
...
I knew that I had to find him, and quickly. So I chased him. I chased him through Europe. I chased him despite every annoying clue he left behind to tease me. I chased him even after… even after he… after he murdered Elizabeth in cold blood.
I chased him as far as I could, until the frozen cold of the north made it so I could no longer carry on.
…
…
...
And that, dear Walton… is my story.