As
I break the surface of the freezing Arctic water, my tears are washed from my
face. My father is dead and I wish the
same fate upon myself. Man has brought
me nothing but pain and rejection. I
resurface in the water after my leap from the ship, waiting. Soon, the cold will overcome my body and
death will bring me solace. It seems,
however, my creation has left me with an extreme resilience to the cold. I dive beneath the surface and inhale,
feeling the water fill my lungs. All
goes black and I embrace my death with open arms.
Suddenly
I feel strong warmth upon my body. Truly
there is no better place for Satan than Hell.
I waged war against my creator with all that I had done and thus I am
banished to the flaming inferno of Hell.[1]
I open my eyes to the blinding
brightness of sunlight on ice and snow.
How? How could I be alive? I may
be a monster but I am no amphibian. Why
does this body refuse to die?
It
seems my desire to die shall not be sated as of now. My desire to rid my life of man is still
pursuable. Though I am without a mate
from my creator, the isolation of South America’s forest could procure an
endurable life. I told the ship’s
captain I would head as far north as I can and end my life with fire but the
grief and shock has left me and my sanity returns.
The
terrain surrounding me looks unfamiliar and strange. I am on a beach covered with frozen chunks of
ice and snow. They glisten in the light
from the sun shining bright in the cloudless sky. Perhaps I managed to travel
west in my “death”, arriving in the Americas.
It is unclear to me how long my journey might have been. A fogginess is present in my mind, clouding
my ability to think. My body has not
aged since my creation. As I rise to
observe my surroundings more, I find myself unable to breathe. The urge to cough overwhelms my body and I
begin convulsing. Slowly and agonizingly
I cough up what appears to be the salty, dirty ocean water. Had my body adapted to the conditions of the
ocean or is it incapable of dying after Frankenstein’s reanimation process?
I
decide to construct a small shelter as night approaches in the forest further
in-land. Although it is cold and frozen
there are plenty of coniferous trees in the dense woods. My shelter is enough to block the wind and
snow. I use some boughs as bedding; the
essence of pine entering my nostrils from the sap is soothing. The fiery sun does not set over the sea so
there is a chance I have made it west.
As the last rays of light disappear I close my eyes and imagine life in
South America.
As
morning comes I take note of the rising sun over the sea, unless I have arrived
on some large island I believe I have made it to North America. I gather some berries from around my shelter
and try to determine a plan to head south.
The pine shelter is far from comfortable to think about staying in this
area indefinitely, and I wish to be away from the ice and snow. In an attempt to find the direction south I
mark the rising and setting of the sun each day for a few days. Hunger begins to set in after the third
day. Small, bitter berries are not
enough nourishment to sustain my body in these conditions.
One
night I dream of my father. The visions
of him are not memories as I have few of those to speculate on. In my sleep I see him as a loveless,
irresponsible man with no regard for his creations. He makes all sorts of creatures and abandons
them deep in the northern ice fields. I
never see him make other humanoids, always animal-like monstrosities. Eventually his wife bears him a child that is
born disfigured and sickly. A resonating
scene in my head as I arise in the morning is of him strangling his own child.
Today
I decided to begin my journey south. I
plan to follow the coastline for as long as I can, avoiding all people along
the way. I am in no rush to reach the
end of my adventure as the first day comes to a close. The scenery is ever changing and the wildlife
is entertaining to observe. There are
more houses and people to avoid as I continue my trek. I am able to steal some small amounts of food
during the night to keep my hunger sated.
Constant deviations are becoming a nuisance but time is moot to my
existence. My thoughts as I travel are
of death and whether I will be able to achieve it. For some reason unknown to me I was unable to
freeze or drown. I consider the thought
of immortality and how far that might extend into my being. Like Satan and the other damned angels I
could be invincible. Their
invincibility, however, did not spare them the unending pain of Hell. Should I plunge over a cliff? I wish to die but I fear the result of that
plunge. What if my body shatters but I
remain alive? Would I be able to feel every pain for eternity as the
inhabitants of Hell do? An immortal life
free of physical pain or deformities far outweighs the risk of eternal
agony.
My
progression south is slow but steady.
The ice disappeared a few days ago and I am anxious to see the snow
vanish as well. It is definitely warmer
than when I started, a strong indication I have indeed been traveling south. My thoughts have shifted from death to
education. Observing the family in the
cottage taught me a lot and I developed into who I am today as a result. Maybe there is more knowledge to be acquired
through observation without interaction, as interaction severed my previous relationship.
After
another few days I have finally made it beyond the coverage of snow. I walk slow and allow my senses to be taken
over. Flowers emit wondrous scents that
mix well with the warm inviting smell of the green forest. Small twigs snap and leaves rustle beneath my
feet, both mixing with birds singing in the tree tops and animals scurrying as
they become aware of my presence. Explosions of green in every shade are offset
by the dull brown of the tree trunks and amplified by the bright yellows,
purples, oranges, and reds of the wild flowers flourishing in the
undergrowth. As I come to a stop amongst
the beauty of nature I find myself full of envy. I am neither a creation of nature nor do I
possess any form of beauty. A cool
breeze brings a new smell into my nostrils; smoke.
I
follow the direction of the wind and discover a small farm. Quickly I construct a small, well hidden
shelter out of sight of the farmhouse. The
sun is setting as a storm moves in that soaks me throughout the night. Sleep eludes me so I begin to ponder over the
construct I will build in the dense forest of South America. It will need a water tight roof for the
almost daily rain showers that occur, but it should not be insulated as the
climate is very warm. Because of the
vast amount of creatures that could live in the forest it must also be raised
off the ground. What effects would
poisons have on my body? The possibility
exists that my flesh could reject the poison entirely having no effects, much like
I did not drown from inhaling the salty ocean water. Another possibility is that my body would
accept the poison and all the resulting pain but refuse to die. The limits of my potential immortality are
something I still do not want to put to the test. Desperation may lead to that path as my life
extends forward, however I do not wish to explore it now.
The
farm seems to be inhabited only by an elderly man and his dog. From my observations he seems to be entirely
self-sustaining. He raises his own
cattle, grows his own produce, and grows the food to feed the cattle. I am already successful at gathering my own
food sources from the wild but thus far I have been constantly traveling. If I were to stay in one place long enough,
such as this man does, learning to grow my own food would be an immeasurable
advantage.
I
need to observe this man more, understanding him will help me establish the
means of a stable future in South America and also how to maintain happiness in
isolation from man. He eats, sleeps,
and goes about chores from day to day.
In the weeks I maintain my surveillance he has no visits or contact from
any people whatsoever. Yet, I observe he
is not depressed or unaccepting of his isolation. Maybe like I, he has chosen this life
alone. The circumstances of his choice
could hold the underlying difference between his enjoyment and mine. I was rejected by man, resulting in my decision;
however he could have possessed the ability to reject man without having first
been denied acceptance.
Despite
the nature of his solitude, he and I are both alone. He is happy and I am starting to wish for
some sort of interaction other than hidden observation. Even though I have sworn off man and I
remember the disappointment of revealing myself to the cottagers, I still
desire acceptance. It would be easier to
reject man after being accepted and learning of my distaste for their ways
through direct interaction. But this man
is alone and I am alone. Without
consideration of how we both got to this lifestyle, he has found solace and I
have not.
One
day the farmer goes deep into the woods for a long hunt. While he is out I decide to search the house
for something, anything that keeps him entertained and distracted. I expect to find a massive room filled with
books upon books. The thought of being
able to borrow books while the farmer is doing chores changes my mood
already. I remember the soft,
well-turned pages of Paradise Lost, Lives, and The Sorrows of Young Werthers,
my treasures.
As
I enter the farm house I find no such library.
There are not even paintings on the walls to admire. The entire house is free of any dirt, grime,
mud, or filth of any kind that one would expect to find in a farm house. Everything is exceptionally clean and
organized. Is this how he distracts
himself from other people, by cleaning constantly? I keep searching, there has to be something
I’m missing. I find one book in the
entire house, the farmer’s journal.
Obviously I cannot take it with me to read so I begin to skim the first
page:
“She
married today, the only person I could share my feelings with, though I could
never manage to share this feeling with her.
I have no one to share any feelings with now, except for you. I can fill you with my deepest secrets, my
overwhelming feelings and you will not judge or leave me for another. I will never love another as I loved her and
I never want to see a man again to remind me of the one I lost her to. For some, they might see death as answer to
my struggle and I do see that solution, but only after a long life. I regret my failure to express my feelings to
her and I do not want to regret suicide as well in my life after death . . .”
I want to continue reading but I
hear the dog barking off in the distance.
Returning the journal to its proper place I quickly exit the farmhouse
and sneak to my shelter. This man’s life
is a rendition of Werther’s life where he chooses to live instead of die.[2] I am fascinated by his desire to write in his
journal in place of human contact. It
seems he views the journal as a person.
According to his writing it seems he and I have both been rejected by
man and chose to live a life of solitude. I must read more of his life.
In attempt to keep him away from the
house for most of the day, I remove part of his fence in the night and allow
one of his cows to escape into the woods.
As he and the dog search I return to the journal and begin to read more. He writes for six pages about setting up the
farm and depressing stories of loneliness and regret. Then he has a fight with the journal, blaming
it for holding onto his pain and reminding him always of the love he lost. I worry he will stop writing and I flip to
halfway through the journal to find empty pages. I flip back and find the
journal is empty after only ten pages. Why
did he stop writing? I was confident he was maintaining his abstinence from man
by writing to this journal. The last
page reads:
“I found a young wolf pup alone in the
woods. He was rejected by his mother,
one who he thought loved him much like I thought she loved me. Now that we have found each other we have no
need for either one of them. You are
filled with poisonous memories of my past and I do not need you anymore. I will no longer write but perhaps I will
visit you again someday to remind me of how far I have come. My new friend needs love and I have plenty of
unused love to spare.”
True to his word the farmer never
does again write. It is unclear to me
whether he has read it again because of the house’s cleanliness. I did not expect the dog to be his
solace. I retire to my shelter to dwell
upon how this can be.
The dog and the farmer go everywhere
together. I did not observe this at
first but now I see it more clearly.
They were rejected by their loves in life and found love and
companionship in each other. Together
they seem happy and able to cheer each other up throughout the day. Often when the farmer appears weary he will
start to slow down on his chores noticeably.
When this happens the dog runs into the woods and finds a decently sized
stick. The dog continuously pesters the
farmer by nuzzling him in the legs or grazing his legs with the stick
repeatedly until finally the farmer submits.
He takes the stick from the dog’s slobbery mouth and tosses it a small distance;
all his elderly arms can seem to muster in his weariness. Almost comically the dog bounds away from the
stick, pretending the distance is more than it can manage and returns it to the
farmer’s hand. The smile on his face as
the dog lies down beside him remains fresh in my mind as I fall asleep that
night.
I wish to have the happiness and
friendship that exists between the farmer and his dog. They care and love each other in such a way
that surpasses that of some human relationships I have observed, especially
greater than that of Victor and his wife.
On one of the days of my observation the farmer is working his potato
field while the dog wonders about the farm, always staying in sight of his
friend. I am busy watching the dog when
I hear the roar. A large feline beast
has moved from the woods and is confronting the farmer as he swings his hoe and
yells frantically at it. The dog races to his rescue, howling and growling
along the way. They circle, sizing each
other up before the mountain lion dives in for the attack. With its wolf-like stature the dog is able to
sustain the fight, eventually causing the beast to flee back into the woods but
not without injury. The farmer quickly
removes his shirt and ties it around the wound to stop the bleeding. He places his wounded savior into a
wheelbarrow and moves him back to the house.
I worry the brave creature will not make it through the night.
That night I do not sleep. I am filled with dread pondering over the
potential death of the dog. Will the
farmer take his own life after losing his best friend? He loves his pet with unconditional love and
the dog returns that love with loyalty, happiness, and security. Together they care for each other and have no
need for other people. Death is one
thing neither of them can avoid like I can; I wonder what will happen to other
if one of them were to die. Hopefully
that question will not be answered when the sun rises in the morning. If I were to find a companion in nature and
share a relationship as close as this farmer and his dog, how would I handle
its eventual death?
Morning comes and the farmer is
doing his usual morning chores but the dog is not with him. When he moves to work in the field again he
brings the dog out in the wheelbarrow and lays it in the grass near him. Thankfully the dog has survived the
encounter. The farmer takes occasional
breaks to check on his friend and even brings him a stick to chew on and play
with while he recovers. They share a
mutual happiness through the day and retire to the farmhouse as the sun begins
to set.
Continuing to stay here on the farm
I would risk being discovered eventually.
I dwell on the thought of why the dog did not discover me with its
powerful sense of smell within the first few days of my arrival and
observation. Maybe by chance the dog
cannot detect the smell my body emits?
Or perhaps my body reeks of death and it avoids me like a plague? The farmer has unknowingly taught me plenty
of things to pursue in South America to sustain my life. Hopefully I can find my own companion along
the way as well.
I destroy what is left of my shelter
after several weeks inhabiting it and leave the farm well behind me by the end
of the day. There are hopes in my mind
of discovering some wild creature to travel with me as the days pass. Every animal I come across fears me. I did not notice in my journey before the
farm but nearly all animals flee from my presence. Some animals have attempted to bite me while
others expel their bladders beneath them and cower in terror. I must be genuinely horrifying to imbue so
much fear into an animal that it loses control of its own body. Being rejected by man and animal was not
something I was prepared for. How can I
survive in seclusion without a companion?
The farmer has his dog and I have nothing. My mind wonders again to suicide. I feel like Werther with my contemplations on
suicide. Sadly his certainty of
achieving death was far higher than my own.
In a small cave near a stream I come
across a snake that shakes its tail as I approach it, making a hissing
sound. I back away and observe this
strange species from a distance. It
waits patiently in a small alcove along the creek until a small rabbit
approaches to drink some water. With one
quick motion it buries its fangs into the critter which begins twitching
violently after only a few seconds. The
twitching does not last much longer and soon the rabbit goes limp as the snake
consumes it whole. Neither the snake nor
the rabbit are very large, this could be a potential situation to test the
extent of my immortality. I am already
alone with no companion from nature or from man. Testing the effect of poisons on my body
could help me discover a way to finally leave this world and be at peace in
Hell.[3]
As I approach the snake it purges
the rabbit from its bulging stomach and prepares to defend itself. I reach out my hand and it strikes me once on
the hand and twice along my forearm.
Initially I feel nothing. A
burning sensation starts in my fingers and progresses up my arm. It continues to my shoulder and into my chest
and neck. When it gets to my heart I
feel it cease its rhythmic beating and I collapse to the ground as my eyes
start to darken and I lose control of my legs.
I awaken sometime during the
night. The burning sensation is
completely absent from my body but my muscles ache with a constant, universal
pain.[4]
Clearly the poison had some effect on my body.
A stronger toxicity of venom might hold the key to defeating my
immortality. South America might hold a
creature to offer me the death I dream of as my isolation increases. I have not died yet but my body is in a state
of agonizing, continuous pain. When I
try to stand, my limbs do not obey my commands. Curse this body and curse
Victor Frankenstein. Will I lie here in
pain for all of eternity? For what feels
like hours I try time and time again to rouse my body from the ground and
continue my journey. With each defeat I
wish for death twenty times over. What
have I done? Why did I test my immortality instead of coping with my isolation
and loneliness?[5]
I lay there in helpless torture,
still wishing for death. Werther must
have wished death as much as I while he lay on the floor in his room before his
servant found him early that morning. Night
falls and I wonder what creatures will come to devour my still living body as I
lay motionless yet screaming internally in pain. Straining with all the will power I have left
I attempt to move even a finger on my paralyzed body. An intense pain is sent shooting through my
body as my left index finger moves slightly.
The pain does not stop me. I
strain harder and harder, each new movement causes more and more pain. Finally I am able to raise my left arm when
it falls back to the earth with a thud and my eyes darken once more.
When I finally wake I immediately
try to move my limbs to find they all obey their commands. Agony still hangs in my muscles as I
rise. I can handle the constant pain as
long as I am able to move again. Once I
feel more stable I make my way to the creek and drink some handfuls of the
water. My hand trembles greatly but I
manage to quench my thirst. Slowly over
the course of the entire day the pain lessens and eventually subsides from my
body by nightfall. The only explanation I have for the previous
events is that my body accepted the poison and all its effects. Instead of allowing it to kill me though, it
proceeded to adapt to the toxins and work to either remove it from my body
slowly or possibly change itself to work with the poison still present in my
system.[6] It would be simple to test this theory by
allowing the snake to bite me again but I do not wish to relive that dreadful
experience so soon. I can find a way to
cope with my isolation until I discover my salvation in death. For now, I will continue to move south
towards my goal to be free of man entirely.
Sometime after calming my thoughts
of the events that unfolded I arrive in a massive pine forest.[7] I climb one of the massive trees and look
towards the south. It is an ocean of
deep, dark green extending far beyond what I can see. The smell of pine sap is ever present in my
nose. I am reminded of my first night on
this continent, engulfed by pine in my shelter.
While the sun sets I make a small bed of pine boughs for the night.
Suddenly I am awakened by a voice in
the darkness. There is a fire lit not
far from my bed and I see him standing there, looking down on me.
“You did so well my exquisite
tool. I underestimated the potential of
your intellectual capabilities but nonetheless you achieved all that I could
not. Yet, I created you, thus in the end
it was I who did everything.”
My
creator is dead; I saw his lifeless body on that ship. How is he here? To what achievements is he
referring?
“Would I have not contracted
pneumonia seeking you out to destroy you after your good work; my life would be
all that I had planned so intricately. You
see, I disliked my father but I did not want to be responsible for William
should my father die. I had no
intentions of marrying Elizabeth and you took care of that quite well. It was less than simple to anger you enough
to kill her. That actually was a work of
luck thanks to your ridiculous desire for a mate. In fact, I was able to get two murders out of
you from that wondrous work of your imagination. I bet you even considered yourself smarter
than me when you framed Justine. How did
you not realize I wanted her gone as well when I didn’t tell the people of your
existence to stop her execution?”[8]
Crash!
A falling tree slams to the ground my eyes open and try to focus my cloudy
mind. It was just a dream. I ruminate on the content of the dream for
far longer than I should have. Sadly, I
start to believe the voice of my creator in my dream. Had he really been playing the part the
entire time? It would explain his
abandonment. I need a companion; I have
to get my mind away from this horrific realization that I might have been just
a tool to Viktor, doing his dirty work.
Why would a dream come and plague me as I try to move south through this
forsaken labyrinth of coniferous green and white sap.
Animals
fear me, people fear me, and I am desperately lonely. Werther enters my mind briefly but I dismiss
it immediately with thoughts of the pain I endured not long ago. Then an even more desperate thought enters my
mind. Despite the time that has passed
since I read Frankenstein’s journal, his notes and work are clear in my
brain. Though my hatred for my creation
and abandonment goes beyond words, creating a creature of my own under certain
circumstances is better than suicide or what might result from suicide. I argue with myself for countless hours. It takes time to convince myself that having
a companion for my solitude outweighs my distaste for the creation
process. I am also convinced that
because I have love to provide and nourish my creation the situation is much
more acceptable. Of course the idea that
I won’t be creating a humanoid makes me feel better too.
I
begin gathering parts of animals I find in the woods. There was a dead fox I found after searching
for a few hours and I also discover a giant bat inside a cave. My creature isn’t going to be able to fly but
I want to make it as hideous as I am.
Heading east I eventually come across a small town. I gather the legs of a baby pony that died
shortly after birth along with all the materials I will need to perform the
reanimation and assemble the parts together.
For the creatures head I decapitate a goat from one of the town’s
farms. Rationally, I think that a goat’s
mind would be the most relaxed and unaggressive of any creatures I might find
in the woods. There is a dead hawk not
far from where I decided to start my work. I replace the fox’s front paws with the hawk’s
talons, its rear legs with those of the pony, and place the wings on the back,
linking them to the shoulder blades. I
am able to catch several rats around the town and stitch the tails together
into a longer tail for my creature. To
make the tail more threatening I place the bottom three talons of a large,
beautifully feathered bird with a red head that I find in the area.[9]
The
creature is far from the natural beauty held by the animals it is composed of,
much like I am. It is horrendous enough
to scare any people away that approach me during my journey and in my isolation
of South America. I finish up the final
stitching and make the proper preparations to begin the reanimation
process. Maybe I will be able to train
my new companion to hunt food for me. Before I start the process I question the
validity of my doings. Nature rejects me
so I must reject it and create my own if I am to survive.[10] If the creature possesses the same
immortality as I, I will not need to fear the repercussions of its death upon
me as the farmer did. An immortal pet
for an immortal man is a solution worth seeking out. I begin my new creature’s reanimation eager
to have company in eternal life. Even
Satan had his angelic allies for company in Hell.[11]
What
a pathetic creature! Its limbs twitch
and barely move at all once it begins to breathe through the goat’s mouth into
the fox’s lungs. The tail moves only
slightly and the legs have not joined the group of moving limbs at all. I pick it up in an attempt to help it stand
and balance itself on the pony’s legs. It
topples to the ground in a thud without putting forth any effort at all. Remembering Viktor’s notes of my ugliness and
inability to function after my initial creation I decide to allow the creature
to develop on its own. To keep it safe I
observe it from a small distance away.
After
several hours my creation is finally able to stand and its tail moves in
intricate ways to help keep it balanced, occasionally sticking itself into the
ground to prevent the creature from falling over when it starts to teeter. In an attempt to nourish it and help it grow
unlike my father did for me, I decide to help it begin to walk. Before long it is walking freely around the
camp. I feed it a few berries growing
near camp and drift off to sleep as I observe it beginning to try to run.
When
I wake the next morning the creature is nestled into a small corner of the
shelter sleeping softly. As I arise it
begins to stir and awakes to greet me. A
smile crosses my face as I rub its goat head and feed it more berries. We depart the shelter together and I notice
slash markings on the bark of the trees, alarmingly high up. Suddenly the creature spreads its bat wings
and begins flapping them profusely. Soon
it is airborne and soars over my head.
The claw at the end of the tail hits off of the trees as it weaves
between them. Clearly my creation has
been learning at an extremely fast rate and its body has immense strength like
my own.
That
evening I manage to catch a few small rabbits for the pair of us to eat. I rip a small limb from one of the rabbits
and present it to my pet. It devours the
piece immediately. Instead of feeding it
directly I toss the rest of the meal several feet away from the camp to which
it follows with great speed, eating the rest with haste. Maybe I can teach this marvelous creation of
mine how to hunt for itself and for me. Before
I finish the thought I see its spiked tail stab into a small mouse that was
skittering through the thick layer of pine needles that cover the forest
floor. We both retire to the shelter and
I close my eyes, thinking of the state I was in not two weeks ago, pursuing
death in my loneliness and despair. Here
I am now; filled with happiness and hope in the companion I have created for
eternal life.
Suddenly
a scream in the distance awakens me from my slumber. My pet is nowhere to be found so I head in
the direction of the town. About halfway
there I discover the source of the scream as I watch in horror as my wonderful
creature is delving its teeth into the corpse of a hunter from the
village. There are a slew of slain and
devoured creatures around the area. Some
are as small as mice others as big as deer.
My creature has killed and eaten them all then continued hunting until
it came across a villager and saw it as a source of food like the others. I approach it slowly and try to grab it to
stop it from eating the poor soul that lies at its feet. When I get a grip around its neck it squirms
free and lets out a strange sound, almost like the growl of a dog mixed with
the baa of a sheep. In an attempt to
stop it from continuing to devour the man I smack it across the side of its
head. The jaw ceases its chewing and the
goat head slowly turns to me. Its mouth
opens and the creature lets out a deafening screech as blood and small pieces
of the hunter fall from its grasp.
“Rip them off! Rip them off!” I yell
into the trees.
I am frantically covering my ears as
the blood-curdling scream echoes through the pines and through the entirety of
my body.[12]
I duck as it swoops over my head, whipping me in the left shoulder with its
spiked mace tail and screeching into my ear even louder. The sound is nearly paralyzing as I race
deeper into the forest, hoping to flee from the monstrosity I have awoken in
flesh. I think I have managed to get away when the
sound finally stops. Then I hear
voices. The townspeople have come to
investigate the petrifying sounds being emitted by the dense forest. I hear a scream, a gunshot, and then the
unmistakable screeching of the creature once more. The
screeching and yelling continues until morning.
Warm tears stream down my face during night from my hiding place. What have I done?
After an eternity the sun finally
rises high enough in the sky that I feel safe moving from my spot. I head towards the small town to observe the
ruthless destruction that ensued as a result of my desperation and
loneliness. Something went wrong during
the process but I do not know how. I
followed all of my father’s notes as strictly as I could remember them. My creature was friendly and brought me
happiness. All I wanted to do was stop
it from hunting man. The smell of blood
overwhelms my nostrils. I look around
and see the vibrant sprays of red amidst the dull brown of the trees. There are several bodies of the towns people
littered around the area. Has the
monster left any soul alive in this place?
Slowly I approach the houses of the town, hoping that some mother or
child managed to hide from the death I have created.
Most of the doors to the houses have
been broken down. Bloody hoof prints
lead into them and I fear everyone has been slaughtered. I hear a faint whimper from inside a house
that still has its door intact. As I try
to push open the door I learn whoever is inside has blocked the door with
something. The shear strength of my
enlarged body allows me to push it out of the way. Sunlight pours in through the door and onto a
little girl lying on the hard wooden floor.
I rush to her side and hold her tiny hand, careful not to crush it with
my own. She turns her head to look at
me. Her blue eyes stare into mine.
“A-a-a . . . are you here to save
me, God?” She barely manages to get past her lips.[13]
Slowly
her head turns back to look straight at the ceiling and I see the fear engulf
her precious blue eyes. I have no time
to react as the three-talon tail plunges into her chest and the screeching
begins again. When I reach to grab the
wretched tail, it is quickly pulled away from my grasp. The creature falls from the ceiling and lands
on the young girl’s body. I try to
strike it with a closed fist across its disgusting, blood soaked goat head but
I hit nothing but air. I am met with the
pounding force of the two hooves on my chest that knock me out of the open
doorway. Rising quickly I prepare to
fight off pummeling blows from the deadly tail but see a more disturbing
sight. My creation, my miraculous
companion, is drinking the blood of the little girl from the floor boards. I find a still burning lantern in a nearby
carriage, toss it at the creature and close the door as the fire begins to
engulf the room. The screeching resumes
as I see the monster burst from the house’s chimney and fly into the tops of
the pine trees.[14]
I
return to the creature’s birth place and destroy all traces of its
genesis. Before leaving the area
completely, I gather what things I can from the town, specifically anything I
can use to create fire for the rest of my journey. I continue heading south for three days and
nights, unable to stop for fear that I am being hunted. By morning on the fourth day I am free of the
pine green and brown maze but proceed south regardless. As evening approaches I find a small setting
of trees to stop and rest for the night.
I collapse on a bed constructed of tree boughs and do not wake until
long after sunrise the next day.
She
called me God. Have the roles reversed
now? I considered myself Satan but who
am I now? Like God I created and
expected loyalty and love from my creation.
I did not want this role forced upon myself but here I am, abandoning
the life I have made like my father abandoned me. If he created me as a tool for his own use
isn’t that the same as what I had hoped to achieve? I convinced myself my love
and care would make it nothing like my own creation but I did not expect the
result to be a true monster. The chances
of me being able to find and successfully kill it are small; I can only hope it
remains within the confines of the labyrinth of pine, like the Minotaur in
Cretan. My hopes rest in a hero rising
one day as great as Theseus and slaying the beast.[15] Until that day comes I shall live in a state
of dread, wondering how many lives my horrific monster has taken from
unsuspecting souls that enter the maze.
The
path south is slow and full of guilt and depression. I am rejected by all manner of living things,
even my own creation who I tried so desperately to love and nourish. Eventually I come across the ocean cutting a
path inland. Surrounded by water on two
sides I pick the western side and follow it back north and west. When I can finally see across the water I embrace
the water and swim. I am reminded of the
freezing water in the Arctic and ponder over my first attempt at suicide. Maybe this time it will work? Even if it doesn’t I don’t wish to feel
anything anymore. I submerge and inhale,
my last thoughts before everything goes black again is of the bright blue eyes
of the girl and her faint young voice rings in my ears.
“A-a-a . . . are you here to save
me, God?”
A
monotone droning sound forces me to open my eyes. The sound is growing louder as the terrible retching
of water and mucus out of my lungs begins.
I look all around me and cannot discover the source of the noise. Suddenly a gargantuan bird soars over the
tree tops above me. Watching it fly over
the water several times I detect it does not flap its wings and appears to be the
source of the sound. I continue to watch
from the cover of the trees and slowly unearth its real identity. It is no bird at all but some form of
mechanical beast. On a real low pass
over the water in front of me I see that man is the mastermind behind this
flying creation.[16] How long was I “deceased” for this time?
Avoiding man is going to be increasingly more difficult as I continue my
journey south.
I
try not to think of my actions prior to my third attempt at achieving death. When I do, I convince myself that Theseus has
come and handled the Minotaur with expertise by now. To try and keep my mind away from all of it I
mull over Werther’s suicide. If he had
completely survived his suicide, not just for the agonizing twelve hours after
the shot, would he have tried again as I did?
I feel as if he would.
Considering I contemplate it as much as he did and I have tried thrice
there is no doubt he would continue trying.
Those twelve hours had to be torture enough, I fear with my inability to
expire thus far that those twelve hours would actually be eternity should I
attempt something as drastic as leaping from a cliff side.
So
I plan to continue my pursuit of isolation in South America. Being truly alone is going to be harrowing
but I hope now that the beauty of nature is going to be enough to satisfy
me. There is so much to observe and
admire. Maybe I can build several
different shelters throughout the woods and rotate between them. Maybe there will be a beast in the woods that
is accepting of my figure and will become my companion. Maybe and indigenous tribe will accept me as
one of their own. I just have to keep
going, keep hoping I will find acceptance by man or nature.
The
amounts of towns I come across are much greater than before. Heading south I come across a massive city
filled with man and man’s mechanical beasts.
I travel west in anticipation of finding woodland cover to hide presence
from them. Gradually the area is becoming
more wooded. There is a small town
between two sections of really dense forest.
In the protection of the trees I set up a small shelter and monitor the
town throughout the night. No lights, no
movement. The next morning I go into the
town to explore its remnants, it is completely abandoned. I lie down on the ground within a small house
and drift into a deep sleep.
That
night I dream of the death of the girl with blue eyes. This time when she looks up I place my body
over her and take my monster’s stab into my shoulder blade. I pick up her tiny figure and shield her as I
carry her out of the house, taking blows from the beast as we flee into the
woods. For days and nights we are moving
through the woods. Once we escape the
pines I tell her we are safe now. She
squeaks a thank you out and places her hand softly on my face, tracing my
scars.
“I know I am ugly but I can keep you
safe and care for you.” I mutter to her.
“O-o-ok.” She stutters out. “Where
are we going to go?”
“People don’t like me very much; I’m
going to South America to hide from all of them. Would you like go with me?”
The
dream cuts to a wooden construct in a thick forest. Warm, humid air fills my lungs and the sounds
overwhelm my ears. Birds are singing the
most perfectly noted songs and small, furry animals that look like people with
tails chatter as they rustle leaves, jumping among the tree tops. Frogs’ croaks echo all around me.
“Adam, what are you doing?” I hear
behind me. I turn and see a woman
standing in front of me, her blue eyes shimmering in a ray of light that has
managed to penetrate through the tree tops.
“Just listening, the birds sound
wonderful today, don’t they Eve?” The name crosses my lips instinctively and I
wake suddenly as the sunlight shines onto my face through a hole in the house’s
roof.
The
dream hangs heavy in my mind as the day goes on. Even my dreams taunt me with thoughts of
paradise and a life of being accepted by man, or in this case a woman. There is no paradise for me in this
world. My creator cast me out of the
garden before allowing me the chance to sink my teeth into the apple and there
was no Michael to show me what the rewards of my struggles in life will
bring. There is only one salvation for
me as there was only one solution to Werther’s pain and suffering: death. I gather wood from the surrounding woods and
fallen down buildings, constructing a large pyre in the middle of the
town. Once the fire becomes a raging
inferno comparable to the flaming bowels of Hell I leap into the center. There
was no one present to bade me adieu, “Wretched, wretched that I am – not one
farewell!” Werther’s words hang heavy in my mind as the flames engulf me.
References:
Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein: The Lynd Ward Illustrated Edition. Dover, 2009.
Milton, John. Paradise
Lost. Online. Available: http://www.paradiselost.org/
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. The Sorrows of Young Werther. Online. Available: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/2527/2527-h/2527-h.htm
Plutarch. Lives. Online.
Available: http://www2.hn.psu.edu/faculty/jmanis/plutarch/plutarchs-lives-1.pdf
Weird N.J. The Jersey
Devil. Online. Available: http://weirdnj.com/stories/jersey-devil/
Department of Environmental Conservation: New York. Timber Rattlesnake Fact Sheet. Online.
Available: http://www.dec.ny.gov/animals/7147.html
[1] In
reference to Paradise Lost where the monster considers himself Satan rather
than Adam
[2]
From Goethe’s The Sorrow of Young Werther
in which Werther loses the woman he truly loves to an arranged marriage and
commits suicide rather than endure the pain
[3]
Interestingly, the monster believes he is going to Hell because he is Satan and
Hell is where Satan belongs, not because of the murders he committed by killing
William and Elizabeth
[4]
Venom from the Northeastern Rattlesnake is typically a form of Neurotoxin, the
destruction of the neurons typically causes muscles to fire and thus spasm
uncontrollably. His muscle aching is a result of these spasms.
[5] I
am trying to establish some form of an argument here that isolation and
rejection leads to his suicide and that even though he regrets his attempts he
continues to try because he sees death as the only solution. It might be a stretch here but I would like to
purpose this is use of the Estrangement Effect of Marcuse to represent suicide
in our society as a result of rejection/bullying and loneliness.
[6] To
clear this up, he believes his body was either flushing the toxin from his body
once it got in and then his body rebuilt his neurons or that his body has
changed the way his entire being functions by working with his damaged neurons
and other cells in such a way that being introduced to the toxin again will
have no effect on his body, like immunizations.
[7] In
reference to the Pine Barrens of New Jersey, as he is moving along the eastern
coast
[8] This
is my own personal take on the Frankenstein story. People tend to forget it is Viktor himself
telling the story to Walton, he can mold it in any particular way he
wants. I like to give his intelligence
more credit than most. From the
beginning he did not want to marry Elizabeth and he flees when his father
suggests it. Although he does get
married he knows the monster will come for her so he won’t have to bear it for
long. The other deaths are pretty well
touched on in the dream. He wanted to be
a man with no responsibilities in his selfish pursuit of knowledge.
[9]
Most descriptions of the Jersey Devil say it has these characteristics. I tried my best to think of animals that
would be in the New Jersey area to compose the creature of these features. The red headed bird is a wild turkey incase
that was not clear. I would have explicitly
said turkey but I was unsure the monster would be familiar with that name.
[10]
Another possible hint at the argument, as people are rejected by society they
start to reject it back in their loneliness, potentially resulting in terrible
tragedies like shootings
[11]
Referring of course to the angels that joined with Satan in his war against God
in Paradise Lost that were banished
to Hell with him. The monster is
starting to believe his existence now might already be Hell.
[12]
Legends say the Jersey Devil can not only fly but emits a terrible shrieking
sound as well.
[13]
Because of his large stature and massive hands the girl believes he is God from
the Bible come to save her and take her to Heaven. He understands her words to
be from his reading of Paradise Lost.
[14]
In the original legend, it is said the Jersey Devil is the 13th
child of the family Leeds that lived in the Pine Barrens. When she gave birth it transformed into the
creature, killed the other children in the house and fled out through the
chimney. This is my rendition of the
legend to include the monster’s creation but also incorporate some of the
original legend.
[15]
In reference to his reading of Lives
which holds the story of the Minotaur in the maze and Theseus’s slaying of that
Minotaur. It might be another stretch
here to compare this to a person in isolation waiting for a hero to come and
save them from what they have done as a result of their depression/loneliness
(ie drug use or cutting of the wrists/other locations on their body).
[16]
In fact he has been “dead” for a very long time. The legend of the Jersey Devil started around
the year 1735 while airplanes would not have been seen until at least 1903 when
the Wright Brothers are credited with the earliest powered airplane flight.
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