Frankenstein's Monster Fan Fiction
My chest hurts. The pain is the first thing I become aware of as reality crashes into me, every breath I draw an endless torture. Bright yellow light, so hot it burns the back of my eyes, keeps me squinting in suspense. My hands curl, sharp points scraping the inside of my palm, drawing blood. I can feel the warm liquid tracing rivers down my forearm. It takes me a moment to realize that it had been my own nails that had committed the wound. Struggling into a sitting position, I reach with clumsy arms to wipe the sleep from my blurred vision. My movements are heavy and uncoordinated, my motions unruly and not entirely my own. It was as if each part of me had a mind of its own that I couldn’t quite discern, each movement a jerky action that ripped at exposed tendons in my arms and legs.
Despite rubbing viciously at my eyes, my vision remained foggy and each of my senses seemed to work at only part of their intended functionality and in no relation to one another! Even my thoughts felt unusually cloudy, as if I were looking through a fairground mirror where everything was distorted and unnatural. Something was very, very wrong with me. Trying to speak, I open my mouth wide and exhale. No words, only a dragged out, low, harsh to my ears, grating, moan escaped from my parted lips. Joints creaking, I stagger to a sitting position and leaning down to escape the nausea let out another horrified grunt, this time caused by the horrific appearance of my own hands. The pointed nails and torn at pasty skin fascinated me almost as much as the open veins and visible muscles pumping up my arms did. What happened to me?
Lifting my eyes, I notice the man standing huddled in one corner. His face was streaked by tears and he was shaking increasingly, every twitching spasm of his limbs growing increasingly in frequency and in violence. His face was pale, although not as sickly as my own gray pallor; I may not be able to see my reflection on the stone walls but if my hands and bare chest are anything to go by I suppose I must look rather frightening. The man in the white coat uttered a high pitched squeaking noise from the back of his throat as I raised one disproportionately long arm in his direction. “Stay away from me!” He howled, dashing away to the closed wooden door. “Keep away! Keep away you-” he tripped and fell to the floor in a jumble of limbs, “you MONSTER!” Finished speaking, he charged up a flight of stairs as I dragged myself behind.
I don't know why I followed him. Perhaps I just couldn’t stand being in a room by myself. Alone with only my own dreadful company.
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Finally out of the stairwell, I lumber down one hall after another looking into room after room and pushing open heavy oak doors. At last, I found him sprawled out on a bed, hands dropped dramatically over his face and hair spiky with sweat. Standing over him, I trace my hands as gently as I possibly could across his beautiful facial features. Tracing his bushy white eyebrows and clear wrinkled skin. My hand next to his pale, fair skin shows to my disagreement just how yellow and crumbling my own complexion really is. My hand jerks away from him, cutting a long gash across his cheek. The man in the white coat awoke to my startled expression inches from his own and blood dripping from my tapered fingertips. An unearthly howl escaped his mouth, a truly wild cry of unbridled fear. Again, he staggered away.
Before I could take the first step towards following him out the entryway and into the courtyard, I spotted a terrible face glaring at me from the other end of the room. The figure had stooped shoulders and a hooked nose. One arm seemed to hang lower than the other and its greasy hair clung in unattractive clumps to the side of its misshapen, shrunken head. Springing back out of fright, I tried to hide behind the bed, ducked down to avoid the horrible thing’s haunting glare. To my surprise, it copied my movements down to the expression and that is when I realized. That was when I realized what I was.