I will be dead in the next moments to pass. I know not of the time spent between my departure of the boat to trudging through waist high snow; I only know that this blizzard was sent from hell, its purpose, to slay me. The death I spoke of while aboard the vessel will never come, far from it in fact. No ashes will be swept into the ocean, and no peace will be found. This is my final resting place, freezing here, flat on my backside, gazing up towards the harsh storm clouds. Piercing gusts of wind fill the space of my ears. After a potion of my top lip fell into my throat, all I can taste is dead skin and dried blood. I can feel loose my shirt and trousers frozen solid to me, along with my mangled unkempt hair, frozen to my shoulders. By weakly looking upon my large nose and deteriorating lips, I see I have become more disgusting and repulsive than before. The light yellow tint of my skin is now discolored, dark and ugly. Purple and red, like a gash or wound untreated. Ice and snow have entered the seams in between the stitching of my rotting leathery flesh. The miniscule amount of sensation I still feel in my body is diminishing, fading away.
My body wishes to give into the cold, however my mind has little strength for me to use. Memories.. I can still faintly make out the shape of my lost partner my creator promised me. The one thing in my short existence that could have made me fathom some type of emotion for myself to feel other than loathing. To feel normal with a partner that looks the way that I do.. Instead, I am shown nothing but negligence and false promises, which are fueled by anger, my vengeance… It could have been different, had Victor not refuse to finish what he had started. Why did I bring myself to weep next to your lifeless body? I may have been devilish in your life, but you were a cruel and uncaring being. My creator.. Frankenstein..You thought yourself a god, and perished, less than a man.. How I remember your harsh evil words, naming me “devil” and “monster” and I become just that! I was wrong in believing that no malignity, misery, mischief, or guilt could equal to what I have experienced. Though now, in my last moments, I realize that I was wrong. You Victor, have experienced such heinous things, all by my hand. I destroyed your world, everything that you once held dear. After significant loss, you passed away with hate and regret, equal or greater than the misery I have endured. You lived with little, and died with nothing, as you deserved. Oh and it does break me, and my heart, to think that in another life, where another creature is born of flesh and blood and lightning, they too might succumb to this fate as well. Alone, buried in the freezing cold snow, with thoughts and memories just as cold.
I remember every strike and every horrible act of violence and bloodshed I delivered to Elizebeth and Henry. Though Henry’s death weighs more on my mind in these last fleeting moments. I close my eyes and I can still see my hands wrapped around his neck. He fought back, as did Elizebeth, but Henry was different. The time he spent staring at me haunts the inner most reaches of my soul. There was absolutely no sound when Henry witnessed my hulking figure standing at his door. The expression on his face was that of absolute primal fear. A small church mouse, about to be devoured by a large predator. His eyes, completely riddled with terror, trying to rationalize what it is he was seeing. I could not stand the sight of his expression, and leaped forward. My fingers squeeze into the sides of his neck with pressure growing greater and greater. I did not look away, I did not wince or move and inch of my body. Just my behemoth sized hands squeezing Henry’s neck tighter and tighter. What made Clerval’s death so different from Elizebeth, was the look of doubt his eyes held before slowing rolling back into his skull. There was still a small amount of doubt left in his eyes, as if he could not truely fathom the type of monster that has brought upon his untimely demise. He kept his horrified expression until his last moments.
The blizzard has calmed, though with lesser clouds now have come even stronger bone breaking winds. The clear black heaven above is filled with stars every which way I look. A final gaze upon this world, before closing my eyes forever. It would come as no shock if I were to die with these horrible atrocities I have commited scattered about in my mind. There is no better place for me than the lowest and coldest pits of hell. Suddenly, the bleak memories of regret begin to subside as I start to feel a deep warmth overtake my body. Feeling has left my being almost entirely. However, as if some magic spark was lit within my deteriorating body, my mind creates a candle lit flame to aid me in my final moments. I close my eyes once more and slowly begin to see a figure coming into fruition in my mind. A slightly hunched back accompanied by a full white beard, more white than this snow covering my body. I see tattered brown clothes, with patches of cloth sewn into the many holes. In a brief instance I see wood being chopped, and a hand being extended towards me. This man, I know who he is! The only human, the only living creature to show any type of compassion. I see you sir, for I have swept the steps you walk on. Hello De Lacey, although you cannot see me, I am overjoyed to see you.
He still has the same considerate expression he had the first time he ever noticed me. Oh good sir, you could not see my hulking body, or my large misshapen face, you gladly extended a hand towards me in hopes I would shake it, and I did so. How delicate and frail it felt in my monstrous hand, though you seemed completely unbothered by that. And though I have a hard time believing in your words in regards to brotherly love and humanity, your presence in this world alone is enough to lift my spirits ten fold! My hands… my entire body… almost completely covered in snow and ice. Though I am almost broken, I shall mustard up my final ounce of strength for you, old man. Though I am to perish, I wish not to perish alone here in this freezing tundra. Both my left and right arm felt heavier than one hundred anchors keeping a vessel from drifting away. However, I managed to lift them both to my waist. And while my skin is nearly completely frozen, discolored, and infected, my left hand reaches for my right one, and vice versa. In only my index finger and ring finger, I can feel my palm. Large and rough, like a leather satchel stuffed with rotting meat. I brace my hands together, trying to recreate the feeling that you have given me, Delacey. I see your soothing warm hand embrace mine. Thank you for coming here, to ride these gastly evil thoughts out of my mind. Thoughts of Victor, of death, of regret. All I feel is warmth now. My whole body is warm. And the old man’s hand was the warmest thing I have ever touched. Thank you for coming here to me now, good sir. Thank you so much, for everything…
Author’s Note: I want to begin this by stating that this is no way how I “wished” the story ended, as I believe its ambiguity and lack of closure works better than any “epilogue” the reader could get. Rather I am simply attempting to expand upon an idea that popped into my head immediately after finishing the book. I never thought it was needed, but it would sure be interesting to see how the monster turns out after he leaves the ship and sets off into the icey unknown.
One thing that challenged me while writing this was trying to balance out the monster’s internal monologue alongside what is actually happening to him as he lays down in the middle of a blizzard. Another aspect of writing I was attempting to practice was my ability to describe the location, and the people the monster is thinking about in his final moments. The picture located at the beginning of the epilogue (taken by Shaun O’Boyle) is supposed to demonstrate the barren lifeless ice filled landscape the creature collapsed in. I took lines and thoughts of the monster from the original book and discussed them, like how he comes to realize that Victor is awful (I am not saying this is canon within the context of the original book, just in this made up epilogue.) I also wanted to make a clear train of thought, starting with the creature having thoughts of anger and regret, but then transitioning into thoughts of compassion and acceptance once his envidable death arrived.
As far as a response goes, I think feedback on how I described and or visualized events and thoughts occurring would be most helpful. I am afraid that I did not have enough detail pertaining to the monster’s actual situation. Instead I fear that I focused too much on the monster’s internal monologue, making it perhaps somewhat confusing for the reader (especially towards the end, where I was trying to describe the monster trying to hold both of his hands together so he can pretend it is like Delacey’s hand in his mind.) A response pertaining to if I did a good job at that or not would be most helpful. Also, if more pictures would be helpful, I would gladly add some more. I originally was going to take pictures of a shoreline near my house that I thought would look similar to the dock at the end of the book. However with all of the trees and wildlife there, it would be extremely difficult to convince a reader that a picture of that area would be “lifeless” and “barren.”
“Frankenstein;” The Project Gutenberg EBook of Frankenstein, by Mary Wollstonecraft (Godwin) Shelley, www.gutenberg.org/files/84/84-h/84-h.htm.Kim Stanley Robinson, Shaun O’Boyle. “The Daring Journey Across Antarctica That Became a Nightmare.” Smithsonian.com, Smithsonian Institution, 1 Dec. 2017, www.smithsonianmag.com/history/daring-journey-across-antarctica-became-nightmare-180967223/.
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3 thoughts on “Here After”
This was such a great idea for a project. I would love to have heard about the monster’s side of the story one last time before the story ended. For most of the last part of the story we do not hear anything of the monster besides for his killings and his trip north. Lastly we hear him say how he is going to die but the reader will never truly know what came of that. Your ending adds another layer to the monster and details what his last thoughts were. You wrote him as being sorry for all the things he did and how effected he was by the death of Henry. This brings the monster back to his kinder roots in the beginning and shows that he may not truly be the dangerous creature Frankenstein made him out to be.
I never thought about what fate must have befallen the creature after the end of the novel. It makes me wonder, is this a just end for the monster? An eye for an eye, he killed so many people and ruined Dr. Frankenstein’s life (although maybe that wasn’t his fault), and so he deserved to die in the end. Or, are we, the readers, supposed to feel relief that the monster is finally at peace, his pain ending with his life? I think this is an incredibly interesting take on the novel, and this ending opens up many avenues for discussion.
I must say I really enjoyed this. I wish we had gotten to hear more from the monster/creation at the end of the novel rather than just from Victor and Walton. I liked how you wrote his inner dialogue, his view of the whole situation that we never really got to see. This was very well written and the view you took was very interesting. Rather than him still being angry he seems to be pained by all that he has caused, he feels the most guilt for Clerval’s death which I found very intriguing. What made you think of this, how do you feel towards the monster in this? These two little questions might be stupid, but I feel like I want to know more about the backstory and if there could have been an alternate writing of this.