It was a cold, miserable night in November when my terrible experiment finally succeeded.
I had spent nearly two years working toward this moment. With trembling hands, I arranged the equipment around the lifeless body lying at my feet. It was already one in the morning. Rain tapped sadly against the windows, and my candle was almost burned out.
Then, in the weak yellow light, I saw one of the creature’s dull, yellow eyes open.
It took a heavy breath, and its arms and legs began to twitch.
I had done it.
I had brought the dead to life.
But the moment I saw what I had created, all the excitement and hope that had driven me for so long disappeared.
How could I describe the horror I felt?
I had carefully chosen every part of his body. I had wanted him to be beautiful. His body was well proportioned, and I had selected what I believed were attractive features.
But I had been horribly wrong.
His yellow skin barely covered the muscles and veins beneath it. His long black hair was thick and shiny, and his teeth were unnaturally white.
Yet those features only made his other characteristics more terrifying.
His eyes were watery and pale, almost the same color as the empty-looking sockets around them. His skin was dry and shriveled, and his lips were straight and black.
I had spent almost two years sacrificing my health, my sleep, and every moment of my life to create this being.
I had wanted this more than anything.
But now that I had finally succeeded, my dream had turned into a nightmare.
I could not bear to look at him.
I ran out of the room and paced back and forth, desperately trying to calm myself enough to sleep.
Eventually, exhaustion overcame me. Still wearing my clothes, I collapsed onto the bed and tried to forget everything that had happened.
But sleep brought no relief.
Instead, I had the strangest and most frightening dream.
I saw Elizabeth walking through the streets of Ingolstadt. She looked young, healthy, and full of life.
Overjoyed to see her, I ran to her and held her in my arms.
But the moment I kissed her, her lips suddenly turned the color of death.
Her face changed before my eyes.
In my arms, I was no longer holding Elizabeth.
I was holding the dead body of my mother.
A burial shroud covered her body, and I could see worms crawling through its folds.
I woke with a scream.
Cold sweat covered my forehead. My teeth were chattering, and my whole body was shaking.
Then I looked toward the bed.
Moonlight slipped through the shutters, filling the room with a weak yellow glow.
And there he was.
The monster I had created was standing beside my bed.
He lifted the curtain and stared directly at me.
His mouth opened, and he made strange, meaningless sounds. A horrible smile spread across his face.
Perhaps he was trying to speak.
I could not hear a single word.
He reached one hand toward me, as though he wanted to stop me from escaping.
I ran.
I rushed downstairs and fled into the courtyard outside the house.
There I stayed for the rest of the night, walking back and forth in terror.
Every sound made me turn my head.
Every noise made me fear that the monster was coming for me.
I could not imagine anything more horrifying than his face.
Even a mummy brought back to life could not have looked more terrible.
I had thought he was ugly when he was still unfinished.
But once his muscles and joints began to move, he became something so horrifying that even the greatest horror writer could hardly have imagined it.
I spent the rest of the night in misery.
Sometimes my heart beat so violently that I could feel every artery pounding.
At other times, I was so weak that I could barely stand.
But the physical terror was only part of my suffering.
I was also crushed by disappointment.
For months, the dream of creating life had been the center of my world. It had been my greatest source of hope and excitement.
Now that dream had suddenly become my personal hell.
At last, morning came.
It was cold, dark, and raining heavily.
Through my exhausted eyes, I could see the church of Ingolstadt in the distance. Its white tower rose above the city, and the clock showed six in the morning.
The porter finally opened the gates of the courtyard where I had spent the night.
I immediately walked out into the streets.
I did not dare return to my apartment.
I kept moving as quickly as I could, as if I could somehow escape the creature by putting distance between us.
The rain poured down from the dark sky, soaking me completely.
I had no idea where I was going.
I only knew that I had to keep moving.
I walked through the streets for a long time, hoping that physical exhaustion might quiet the fear inside my mind.
My heart was still pounding.
I did not dare look behind me.
I felt like a man walking alone down a deserted road, certain that some terrible creature was following close behind him.
I knew that if I turned around, I might see it.
So I kept walking.
And I refused to look back.
Eventually, I found myself standing outside the inn where the stagecoaches and carriages usually stopped.
I stopped there without knowing why.
A coach was approaching from the other end of the street.
As it came closer, I recognized it as the Swiss stagecoach.
It stopped directly in front of me.
The door opened.
Then I saw Henry Clerval.
The moment he recognized me, he jumped out of the coach.
“My dear Frankenstein!” he cried. “How wonderful to see you! What luck that I should arrive here just as you happen to be standing here!”
Seeing Henry filled me with an unexpected happiness.
His presence immediately reminded me of my father, Elizabeth, and my home.
For the first time in months, I felt peaceful.
I took his hand warmly, and for a moment I forgot my fear, my experiment, and the terrible thing I had created.
We walked toward the college together.
Henry talked excitedly about our friends and about how happy he was to have finally been allowed to come to Ingolstadt.
“You have no idea how hard it was to convince my father,” he said.
“He believed there was nothing worth learning beyond the noble art of bookkeeping.”
“He kept giving me the same answer whenever I asked him to let me study.”
“‘I earn ten thousand florins a year without knowing Greek, and I eat well without knowing Greek.’”
Henry laughed.
“I think he remained unconvinced until the very end. But eventually, his love for me was stronger than his dislike of education.”
“So he finally allowed me to leave home and begin my own journey into the world of knowledge.”
“I’m very happy to see you,” I said. “But tell me, how are my father, my brothers, and Elizabeth?”
“They are all well and happy,” Henry replied. “Although they are a little worried because they hear from you so rarely.”
“Actually, I intend to give you a little lecture about that myself.”
He suddenly stopped and looked closely at me.
“But, my dear Frankenstein, I didn’t notice it before. You look terrible.”
“You’re so thin and pale.”
“You look as though you haven’t slept for several nights.”
“You guessed correctly,” I said.
“I’ve been so deeply involved in my work that I haven’t given myself enough time to rest.”
“But I sincerely hope that work is finally finished.”
“I believe I am free now.”
Even as I said those words, I was trembling.
I could not bear to think about what had happened the night before.
We continued walking quickly toward the college.
But as we approached the building, a terrible thought struck me.
The creature might still be inside my apartment.
It might still be alive.
It might still be walking around my room.
I was terrified of seeing it again.
But I was even more terrified that Henry might see it.
“Wait here for a few minutes,” I told him. “Please stay at the bottom of the stairs.”
Then I rushed upstairs.
I reached my door and placed my hand on the lock.
For a moment, I froze.
A cold shiver ran through me.
I imagined opening the door and finding the monster standing on the other side.
Then I forced myself to open it.
The room was empty.
I stepped inside carefully.
Nothing.
The creature was gone.
I could hardly believe it.
My bedroom was empty too.
The monster had disappeared.
A huge wave of relief swept over me.
I clapped my hands with joy and hurried back downstairs to Henry.
We returned to my room together, and a servant soon brought us breakfast.
But I could not control myself.
I was overwhelmed by nervous energy.
I could not sit still for even a moment.
I jumped over chairs, clapped my hands, and laughed loudly.
At first, Henry thought I was simply excited because he had arrived.
But then he looked at me more carefully.
Something about my eyes frightened him.
My laughter sounded wild and unnatural.
“My dear Victor!” he cried. “What on earth is wrong with you?”
“Please don’t laugh like that.”
“You look terribly ill.”
“What has happened?”
“Don’t ask me!” I cried.
I covered my face with my hands because I thought I saw the monster moving toward me again.
“He can tell you!”
“Please, save me!”
“Save me!”
I imagined the creature grabbing me.
I fought against it with all my strength.
Then everything went black.
Poor Henry.
He had come to Ingolstadt expecting a joyful reunion with his old friend.
Instead, he found me in a terrible condition.
I knew nothing of his grief because I had lost consciousness.
I remained unconscious for a very long time.
That was the beginning of a nervous illness that kept me confined to my bed for several months.
Throughout that long period, Henry was my only nurse.
Later, I learned what he had done for me.
He knew that my father was too old and weak to make such a long journey.
He also knew that Elizabeth would be devastated if she discovered how seriously ill I really was.
So Henry decided to hide the truth from them.
He believed that no one could care for me better than he could.
And because he remained confident that I would eventually recover, he believed he was protecting my family rather than deceiving them.
But the truth was that I was extremely ill.
Without Henry’s constant care and patience, I might never have recovered.
The image of the monster I had created remained in my mind day and night.
I talked about him constantly.
At first, Henry assumed that I was simply delirious.
But I kept returning to the same subject so often that he eventually realized my illness must have been caused by some terrible and extraordinary event.
My recovery was painfully slow.
Again and again, I suffered setbacks that frightened and saddened Henry.
Then, gradually, things began to change.
I remember the first time I was able to look outside my window and feel something other than fear.
The dead leaves were gone.
New green buds were appearing on the trees.
Spring had arrived.
It was a beautiful spring, and the changing season helped restore my health.
Little by little, happiness returned to me.
My affection for the people I loved came back as well.
The darkness that had filled my mind began to disappear.
Before long, I felt almost like my old self again.
“Dear Henry,” I said, “you have been unbelievably kind to me.”
“You should have spent this winter studying, just as you planned.”
“Instead, you spent all those months sitting beside my sickbed.”
“How can I ever repay you?”
“I feel terrible that my illness ruined your plans.”
“But I hope you can forgive me.”
“You can repay me very easily,” Henry replied.
“Just stop worrying and get well as quickly as possible.”
“And since you seem to be feeling much better now, perhaps I can talk to you about something.”
I immediately became nervous.
Something?
What could he possibly want to discuss?
Could he be talking about the one thing I could barely allow myself to think about?
Henry noticed the change in my face.
“Calm down,” he said.
“I won’t mention it if it upsets you.”
“But your father and Elizabeth would be very happy to receive a letter from you.”
“They hardly know how sick you’ve been, and they are worried because you have been silent for so long.”
“Is that all, my dear Henry?”
“How could you think that my first thought would not be of my father and Elizabeth?”
“I love them more than anyone.”
“If you’re really feeling this much better,” Henry said, “then you’ll probably be happy to know that a letter has been waiting here for you for several days.”
“I believe it’s from Elizabeth.”