Frankenstein - Chapter Five
It was a dark, cold night in November when I finally completed my work. My heart raced as I gathered the tools I needed to bring life to the lifeless form lying before me. The clock had just struck one in the morning. The rain beat against the windows, and my candle was almost burned out. In the dim, flickering light, I saw the creature's dull, yellow eye open. It breathed heavily, and its body twitched with sudden, jerky movements.
I cannot explain how I felt in that moment. I had worked so hard, put in so much effort to create this being, and now it was alive. I had chosen its features carefully, aiming for beauty, but the result was horrifying. Its yellow skin barely covered the muscles and veins underneath. Its black hair was shiny and flowing, and its teeth were white and perfect, but these only made its watery eyes, shrivelled face, and thin, black lips look even more disturbing.
For two years, I had worked tirelessly, sacrificing sleep and health, driven by the dream of bringing life to something inanimate. But as soon as I succeeded, the dream turned into a nightmare. Horror and disgust filled me. I couldn’t bear to look at the creature. I fled the room and paced my bedroom for hours, unable to calm down or sleep. Eventually, exhaustion overcame me, and I lay down fully dressed, hoping to escape my thoughts. But my sleep was haunted by terrible dreams.
In my dream, I saw Elizabeth, healthy and happy, walking through the streets of Ingolstadt. I hugged her, but as I kissed her, her face turned pale, like death. Her features changed, and suddenly I was holding my mother’s lifeless body. Wrapped in a shroud, I could see worms crawling through the fabric. I woke up in horror, drenched in sweat, my teeth chattering, and my body shaking.
Then, by the faint light of the moon shining through the shutters, I saw him—the creature I had created. He stood by my bed, pulling back the curtain. His eyes, if they could be called that, stared at me. His jaw opened, and he mumbled unintelligibly while a grin stretched across his face. He reached out one hand, but I didn’t wait. I ran from the room, down the stairs, and into the courtyard outside. There, I spent the rest of the night, pacing in terror and jumping at every noise, fearing that the monster would follow me.
No one could imagine the horror of his face. Even a reanimated mummy would have been less hideous. When I worked on him, I had thought him ugly, but now, seeing him alive and moving, he was beyond anything I could have imagined—even in my worst nightmares.
I spent the night in misery. My heart pounded so hard I could feel every beat, and at times I grew so weak I thought I might collapse. The dreams that had once driven me had turned into a living nightmare, and I felt crushed by disappointment and despair.
At last, morning came, grey and rainy. I could see the steeple and clock of Ingolstadt’s church through the gloom. It was six o’clock. The porter opened the courtyard gates, and I hurried into the streets, walking quickly to avoid even the thought of encountering the creature. I wandered aimlessly, drenched by the relentless rain, trying to shake off the fear and shame that weighed me down.
After some time, I stopped near an inn where carriages arrived. A coach pulled up, and to my surprise, my friend Henry Clerval stepped out. “Victor!” he exclaimed. “What luck to find you here! I’m so happy to see you!”
For a moment, all my fear and sadness disappeared. Seeing Clerval reminded me of home, of my family, and of Elizabeth. I grasped his hand, feeling joy and calm for the first time in months. Together, we walked to my college, talking about our friends and his journey to Ingolstadt.
But as we neared my rooms, dread returned. What if the creature was still there? I asked Clerval to wait while I went inside. I opened the door cautiously, expecting to see the monster, but the room was empty. Relief flooded through me, and I clapped my hands in joy.
When Clerval joined me, he noticed how restless and unsettled I was. He thought it was excitement at seeing him, but my wild laughter and erratic behaviour soon alarmed him. “Victor, what’s wrong?” he asked. I couldn’t explain. The weight of the previous night hung over me, and I was consumed by fear and guilt.
It was a dark, cold night in November when I finally completed my work. My heart raced as I gathered the tools I needed to bring life to the lifeless form lying before me. The clock had just struck one in the morning. The rain beat against the windows, and my candle was almost burned out. In the dim, flickering light, I saw the creature's dull, yellow eye open. It breathed heavily, and its body twitched with sudden, jerky movements.
I cannot explain how I felt in that moment. I had worked so hard, put in so much effort to create this being, and now it was alive. I had chosen its features carefully, aiming for beauty, but the result was horrifying. Its yellow skin barely covered the muscles and veins underneath. Its black hair was shiny and flowing, and its teeth were white and perfect, but these only made its watery eyes, shrivelled face, and thin, black lips look even more disturbing.
For two years, I had worked tirelessly, sacrificing sleep and health, driven by the dream of bringing life to something inanimate. But as soon as I succeeded, the dream turned into a nightmare. Horror and disgust filled me. I couldn’t bear to look at the creature. I fled the room and paced my bedroom for hours, unable to calm down or sleep. Eventually, exhaustion overcame me, and I lay down fully dressed, hoping to escape my thoughts. But my sleep was haunted by terrible dreams.
In my dream, I saw Elizabeth, healthy and happy, walking through the streets of Ingolstadt. I hugged her, but as I kissed her, her face turned pale, like death. Her features changed, and suddenly I was holding my mother’s lifeless body. Wrapped in a shroud, I could see worms crawling through the fabric. I woke up in horror, drenched in sweat, my teeth chattering, and my body shaking.
Then, by the faint light of the moon shining through the shutters, I saw him—the creature I had created. He stood by my bed, pulling back the curtain. His eyes, if they could be called that, stared at me. His jaw opened, and he mumbled unintelligibly while a grin stretched across his face. He reached out one hand, but I didn’t wait. I ran from the room, down the stairs, and into the courtyard outside. There, I spent the rest of the night, pacing in terror and jumping at every noise, fearing that the monster would follow me.
No one could imagine the horror of his face. Even a reanimated mummy would have been less hideous. When I worked on him, I had thought him ugly, but now, seeing him alive and moving, he was beyond anything I could have imagined—even in my worst nightmares.
I spent the night in misery. My heart pounded so hard I could feel every beat, and at times I grew so weak I thought I might collapse. The dreams that had once driven me had turned into a living nightmare, and I felt crushed by disappointment and despair.
At last, morning came, grey and rainy. I could see the steeple and clock of Ingolstadt’s church through the gloom. It was six o’clock. The porter opened the courtyard gates, and I hurried into the streets, walking quickly to avoid even the thought of encountering the creature. I wandered aimlessly, drenched by the relentless rain, trying to shake off the fear and shame that weighed me down.
After some time, I stopped near an inn where carriages arrived. A coach pulled up, and to my surprise, my friend Henry Clerval stepped out. “Victor!” he exclaimed. “What luck to find you here! I’m so happy to see you!”
For a moment, all my fear and sadness disappeared. Seeing Clerval reminded me of home, of my family, and of Elizabeth. I grasped his hand, feeling joy and calm for the first time in months. Together, we walked to my college, talking about our friends and his journey to Ingolstadt.
But as we neared my rooms, dread returned. What if the creature was still there? I asked Clerval to wait while I went inside. I opened the door cautiously, expecting to see the monster, but the room was empty. Relief flooded through me, and I clapped my hands in joy.
When Clerval joined me, he noticed how restless and unsettled I was. He thought it was excitement at seeing him, but my wild laughter and erratic behaviour soon alarmed him. “Victor, what’s wrong?” he asked. I couldn’t explain. The weight of the previous night hung over me, and I was consumed by fear and guilt.