The archive of the forgotten

Victor Frankenstein and the creation

What if I told you Frankenstein's monster was Frankenstein? That is a complicated way of saying things. Let me rephrase it, Victor Frankenstein was a monster. And no I don't mean that as some allegory or some brilliant metaphor about how heartless he was when abandoning his creation (if we must believe the severly biased version of Mary Shelley). He quite literally was cut up bodies of several dead people, brought to life. Impressive, is it not?

His creator was his brilliant father, Vincent Frankenstein. Vincent Frankenstein was a well respected duke and scientist, a brilliant doctor. Fascinated by everything about life, not interested in death quite yet. He was happy, he had a good life in their manor far from society. Only going to the real world for lectures and important things. But apart from that, they were sheltered. Meredith Frankenstein, the happy bride of vincent was blessed with the pregnancy they had prayed for so many times. Well, Meredith had prayed for, Vincent refuted the notion of a God. Regretfully Meredith evidently did not pray quite enough. As the poor women lost her life during childbirth. But her last gift was a gleaming baby boy, Valens Dante Frankenstein. A bright young boy, had the smile and beauty of his mother and the intelligence and curiosity of his father. It was the only thing keep Vincent sane, untill it wasn't.

It was a faithful day, Valens was sitting in a field, drawing a tree. 18 years old, almost prepared to go to the university as he wanted to follow in his father's footsteps. But Valens was the faithful victim of an adder, the boy looked like he was asleep his beautiful auburn hair reflecting the sun as Vincent called for him. He didn't understand why he didn't get up like normally when he called him for supper. But as he neared the boy he slowly came to understand why, the brokenhearted man cradled the boy in his arms. His bright face frighteningly pale, his freckles cannot even make up for it.

And so his obsession with both life and death began. He needed to have his boy back, he could not live without the only part of sanity he had left. Driving him more and more insane. But it also drove him further and further into a miracle. A beautiful, strange, frightening miracle. Turning the dead into the living. A new Frankenstein, Victor. Vincent's last masterpiece, the doctor that will perfect his works, hopefully 

Victor Dante Frankenstein

I shave myself, while technically not necessary it makes me feel quite normal. And few things in this world make me feel normal, as I am not. The memories before my new body are all faint, it's like they're surrounded by a mist of times. I do know that I was not always this pale, I always look like the thing normal people look like when playing in the snow. I bascially look sleep-deprived, emaciated and cold. I basically look dead, which, if you think about it, makes more sense than it should be. I have always struggled with my place in the world, I don't go out of our manor unless it is really necesarry. Like when I need new bodies, some of our loyal staff know about the experiments, but they all know better than to talk about it. I close my high collared shirt so it precisely covers the crooked scars around my neck. I have an appointment today. Apart from my medical practise I also meddle in some deadly affairs, and than I mean mortician, I am not reffering to the weapon factories my family owns. For very rich families I look at causes of death and sometimes what the possibilities are with their dead loved one. Some donate to research. These things have helped me get a complete body for my creation. Only thing I still need is a head.

The mother welcomes me into the home. "You haven't changed a bit Victor! I am so sorry to hear about your father." I smile and shake her hand while I mumble, "It's alright, it's been a few months." I say as I take off my sunglasses, my eyes cannot stand sunlight, I get a headache because of it and it makes me naseaous. "Oh your hand is so cold lad, you need a cup of tea." "That's quite alright." I say with a smile. "I insist." She says. I smile, "So, where is our faithful?" "Clarence is on his bed." I smile, I always find it strange how people still care for corpses as if they were still alive. I enter the room and walk towards the bed.

I want to grab some of my tools when I look at the young man's face. He must be about as old as I am. He is beautiful, he doesn't look dead, in fact he looks more alive than I do. I look at his beautiful skin, his honey blonde hair and ask myself what colour eyes he must have. "Clarence used to play with your twin brother when he was young. He loved your manor and your brother." His mother, Mrs van Combe, says. "I miss him so." she says. "If I could bring him back, I would." I take a deep breath. "Madam, I may have something of a solution for you." she looks at me, hope in her eyes. "I am actually my brother" She frowns. "I have been dead, but my father made a secret way that there is potential for eternal life, or well, ressurection at least. I could help your son. The only problem is that his memories will not be the same, he will faintly remember them but he'll become somewhat of a new person." "Do it." She says. I nod, "Could you sign here, I must inform you that I cannot promise it'll work." "You have my full permission. In the name of god and al the power he has given your family." She says. I smile, my father wouldn't put it like that at all. But a yes remains a yes.

I pull the thread through the fragile skin and look at my finished masterpiece. I am working in the tower of the manor, it's beautiful but it has always been a laboratory for my father so I never got to love the scenery from up here. Even now that I work here I don't look out of the window, I am too focused on my creations. I look at the finished human, it looks beautiful, his face is a perfect match. I could not be happier, now only the last step. Wake it up. I attach all the copper cables. I take a deep breath before letting the electricity run through them. The lights all go out. "O god." I curse as I get a match to light the oil lamp. When it finally catches fire it illuminates the room, I look at the table but there is no one laying there. I look around, afraid of what I've made, what it might do when scared when I hear a whimper in the dark corner of the room. I follow the noise and see a trembling human, afraid of what has happened, I remember it well, the confusion, the fear, the cold, the way your system was overwhelmed by senses. I smile as I crouch to get on his level, "Hello" I softly put my hand on his shoulder, he slowly looks at me his striking dark blue eyes confuse me, it's as if a memory flashes by. Those beautiful eyes, what beautiful eyes. "I am Victor Frankenstein. You can call yourself Virgil till you can choose your own name." He begins to cry and covers his ears. I hug him and cradle him. He trembles, I begin to simply hum while rocking him back and forth. He eventually calms down. I look at him and show him the scars on my neck, "It's alright, I am one too. I understand what it feels like." I smile. His expression changes and his eyes begin to twinkle as he slowly tries to smile. I chuckle as he struggles to "You have a beautiful smile Virgil." And he smiles....