Chapter Text

WHEN MOTHER FIRST HANDED ME THIS JOURNAL ON THE NIGHT OF MY THIRTEENTH BIRTHDAY, I CANNOT SAY I ANTICIPATED THE GREAT PURPOSE TO WHICH IT WOULD FIND ITSELF SUITED.  NATURALLY, USING IT WAS NOT A CONCERN, BUT FINDING SOME LESSER PURPOSE TO WHICH I SHOULD RELEGATE IT WOULD BE FAR MORE CHORE THAN PLEASURE.  NOW, HOWEVER, I FIND MYSELF INSPIRED AND, AS THE INK FLOWS FREELY, IT IS DIFFICULT FOR ME TO RESTRAIN MY PEN ENOUGH FOR LEGIBILITY TO PREVAIL.

ISN’T IT FASCINATING HOW MERE CHANCE CAN SO IRREVOCABLY ALTER ONE’S LIFE?  MY NEWFOUND FERVOUR STEMS FROM A LUCKY ENCOUNTER WITH A VOLUME OF THE WORKS OF CORNELIUS AGRIPPA FOUND WITHIN THE INN HERE IN THONON, AND IT IS STAGGERING TO CONSIDER HOW JUST ONE MINOR SHIFT IN THE PARADIGM OF THE WORLD COULD HAVE MEANT MY COMPLETE ISOLATION FROM SUCH FASCINATING IDEATION. 

AGRIPPA IS TRULY A GENIUS, A MAN OF LEARNING AND PROFOUND INNOVATION.  HIS WRITINGS TELL OF THE WAY THE UNIVERSE IS BOUND TOGETHER, OF HOW MAGICAL AND ALCHEMICAL FORCES CONTROL THE WORKINGS OF THE WORLD.  IT IS TRULY FASCINATING.  NEVER BEFORE HAVE I READ AN ACCOUNT THAT GRIPPED ME SO TIGHTLY, THAT RAISED ME SO FAR BEYOND MY OWN WORLD-VIEW.  IT IS MARVELLOUS TO READ WORDS FROM THE PEN OF A GREAT SCIENTIST; I FEEL AS THOUGH I CAN SEE THE BEGINNINGS OF TRUTH BEHIND THE VEIL OF REALITY. 

WE HEAD FOR HOME ON THE MORROW, AND I CAN SCARCELY WAIT TO ONCE MORE FIND MY WAY INTO THE WENDING HALLS OF OUR LIBRARY.  NOW, HOWEVER, IT IS NOT MERELY PLEASURE THAT GUIDES MY PATH, BUT A THIRST FOR KNOWLEDGE, WHICH, I FEAR, MAY BE UNQUENCHABLE.  EITHER WAY, THIS JOURNAL SHALL BE MY COMPANION, THE MANSERVANT EVER-DOGGING MY FOOTSTEPS TO CATCH THE SMALL MORSELS OF KNOWLEDGE THAT I FIND IN MY STUDIES.  WITH ANY LUCK, MERE LEARNING SHALL NOT BE THE END OF IT; LEARNING IS BENEFICIAL, YES, BUT FORGING A NEW PATH IS THE ONLY TRUE PATH TO SUCCESS. 

BUT FIRST, I MUST RETURN HOME.  I CAN HEAR THE PREPARATIONS BEING MADE NOW; MOTHER IS EAGER, AS USUAL, TO PACK OUR THINGS EARLY, AND I MUST GO ASSIST HER.

- - -

I HAVE LONG BELIEVED IN HONOURING MY FATHER, BUT I FIND MYSELF DOUBTING THE MAN’S INTELLECTUAL PROWESS AFTER OUR MOST RECENT DISCOURSE.  SO SOON AFTER I DISCOVER THE KEY TO MY FUTURE, AND HIS REACTION IS NOT ONE OF ENCOURAGEMENT, BUT OF THE WORDS, “SAD TRASH,” DRIPPING FROM HIS LIPS TO STAND OUT, STARK AND NOTABLE IN MY MIND. 

IT IS QUITE SIMPLE; HE KNOWS NOT OF WHAT HE SPEAKS.  IT’S AN AWFUL FEELING TO REALISE THAT ONE KNOWS BETTER OF SOMETHING THAN ONE’S FATHER: AWFUL, YES, AND AWEFUL, TOO.  TO REALISE THAT I HAVE FINALLY LEARNED MORE, THAT I KNOW MORE THAN THE MAN I HAVE HONOURED FOR SO LONG… IT LEAVES ME NEARLY DEVOID OF WORDS, ALMOST UNABLE EVEN TO EXTRICATE THESE THOUGHTS FROM MY HEAD AND PLACE THEM ONTO THE PAPER. 

BUT, REGARDLESS, I HAVE SURPASSED THE BOUNDS OF FILIAL PIETY AND FIND MYSELF IN A BRAVE NEW WORLD, ONE LED BY THE SCIENTIFIC MASTERS OF THE LIBRARY.  WOULD THAT I HAD ACCESS TO A LABORATORY, A METHOD OF CARRYING OUT MY OWN RESEARCH… BUT, UNTIL THEN, MY LABORATORY MUST REMAIN THESE FAMILIAR CHAIRS AND TABLES, THIS DUST-CLOGGED AIR THICK WITH THE SMELL OF FRESH PARCHMENT, THE KNOWLEDGE OF THESE AUTHORS THE SOLE INTELLECTUAL EXPANSION WITHIN MY PURVIEW.  UNTIL THEN, I STUDY THOSE WHO CAME BEFORE.

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I CAN SCARCELY BELIEVE THE WONDER THAT HAS JUST MADE ITSELF KNOWN TO ME; IT’S A MARVEL THAT I’M EVEN CAPABLE OF GRASPING MY PEN, MY HANDS SHAKE SO BADLY.  THIS SCRAP OF PAPER --- STOLEN, I’M AFRAID, FROM MY FATHER’S DESK IN HIS ABSENCE, THOUGH HE SHALL NEVER MISS IT --- CAN HARDLY BE LARGE ENOUGH FOR ME TO RECORD ALL OF THE MANIFOLD AND VARIED THOUGHTS PASSING THROUGH MY HEAD, BUT I BELIEVE THAT IT IS MY SCIENTIFIC DUTY TO AT LEAST TRY. WHEN THE GREATS OF THE SCIENTIFIC WORLD SPOKE OF THE WONDER OF THUNDERSTORMS, OF THE LARGE, SONOROUS ROLLS OF THUNDER TO SHAKE THE EARTH, OF PELTING RAIN AND VICIOUS BITING WINDS, THEY DID A GREAT INJUSTICE TO WHAT I NOW REALISE IS ONE OF THE MOST POWERFUL FORCES IN THE NATURAL WORLD.  THAT IT HAS ONLY JUST NOW BEEN OBSERVED IN DETAIL IS A TRAVESTY. TRAVESTY, TOO, IS THE TIME I HAVE WASTED ON FAULTY RESEARCH.  I HAVE TRUSTED IN THE EXAMPLES OF AGRIPPA, PARACELSUS, AND MAGNUS, AND THEY HAVE LED ME ASTRAY.  I UNDERSTAND IT, NOW… OR, RATHER, I UNDERSTAND THAT I UNDERSTAND NOTHING.  I CANNOT HELP THE SENSE OF DISILLUSIONMENT THAT HAS SETTLED OVER ME, JUST RESTRAINED BENEATH THE EXCITEMENT COURSING THROUGH ME LIKE THE WONDER WE HAVE SEEN TODAY. THE SIGHT WAS AWE-INSPIRING, TO SAY THE LEAST: STREAMS OF LIQUID FIRE, PURE LUMINESCENT WHITE, STREAKING DOWN FROM THE HEAVENS, JUST VISIBLE FROM MY CASEMENT AS IT STRUCK THE OAK TREE OUTSIDE, DISINTEGRATING THE PLANT WITH EASE.  IT WAS CAPTIVATING AND TERRIFYING IN EQUAL MEASURE, BUT THE LATTER WON OUT, LEAVING US TO WAIT SAFE AND DRY IN OUR HOMES FOR THIS NEXT MORNING TO BRING PEACE FROM THE GALE.

WE WENT OUT THIS MORNING AND EXAMINED THE AREA.  QUITE SIMPLY, THE TREE IS NO LONGER A TREE.  CHARRED, BLACKENED WOOD AND STILL-BURNING LEAVES DO NOT A LIVING PLANT MAKE, AND IT WAS WITH HEAVY HEARTS THAT WE TURNED FROM THE DEVASTATION OF THE ANCIENT OAK AND RETURNED TO THE HOUSE.  I STILL BARELY BELIEVE THE DESTRUCTION IT HAS CAUSED, EVEN WITH THE SINGED DEBRIS I HAVE GATHERED IN THE SCIENTIFIC NEED TO TOUCH, TO FEEL HARD EVIDENCE.  I HAVE INCLUDED THEM HERE DESPITE THEIR DAMAGE, DESPITE THE DAMAGE THEY’VE INFLICTED ON ME.

FOR I AM FILLED WITH A COMPLETE, UNDENIABLE EMPTINESS.  THE FIRE OF INTELLECTUAL PASSION HAS FADED, REPLACED WITH A NOTHINGNESS SO ABSOLUTE THAT I CANNOT EVEN TAKE COMFORT IN NEW RESEARCH.  I AM FILLED WITH A DISGUST BORDERING ON VIRULENT HATRED TOWARDS THOSE LEARNED WORKS I ONCE ABSORBED SO INTENSELY; THE THOUGHT OF BEGINNING AGAIN, OF FACING A BLANK SLATE --- OR, RATHER, WORSE THAN A BLANK SLATE, AS MY MIND HAS HERETOFORE BEEN GOVERNED BY FALSE EXPERTS --- AND TRYING TO CARVE A PATH TO ACTUAL KNOWLEDGE IS DETESTABLE TO ME.

NO, I AM SETTING ASIDE MY FASCINATION WITH THE NATURAL SCIENCES AND TURNING TO FAR MORE DIVERTING PASTIMES.  MATHEMATICS SEEMS A FAR MORE CONSTANT AND RELIABLE FIELD, BUT THIS IS NOT A DISCIPLINE THAT DESERVES CONSIDERATION IN THIS BOOKLET.  I SHALL RETIRE IT NOW, AND HOPEFULLY NEVER RETURN IT TO MY CONSIDERATION.

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I HAVE BROKEN MY VOW, I’M AFRAID.  I SWORE TO MYSELF THAT I WOULD NOT AGAIN OPEN THIS VOLUME’S COVER, NOR ADD TO THE BODY OF FAULTY KNOWLEDGE KEPT ON THESE WELL-WORN PAGES.  I HAVE NOT ONCE REGRETTED DISCARDING MY PURSUITS IN THE NATURAL SCIENCES, NOT ONCE LOOKED BACK.  AND YET, I FIND MYSELF ITCHING TO TURN THESE PAGES ONCE MORE.  IT IS OBLIGATION, I BELIEVE: A SENSE OF MORAL DUTY THAT MANDATES MY MARKING THESE PAGES WITH INK ONCE MORE.

MY MOTHER IS DEAD.  THE WORDS ARE HARD TO WRITE, HARD TO GRASP.  SOMETIMES, I FIND MYSELF REMARKING ON HER ABSENCE, TURNING TO SPEAK TO HER, TO TAKE COMFORT IN HER PRESENCE… AND SHE IS NEVER THERE.  RATHER, THERE IS A LACK, A COMPLETE EMPTINESS OF HER BEING, MORE DEVASTATING THAN ANYTHING ELSE.  IT IS A CONTINUAL REMINDER OF HER BEING GONE, A FAMILIAR SENSE OF REITERATING LOSS THAT SHALL, I SUSPECT, NEVER TRULY DEPART FROM ME.

AND YET, CALLOUS AS IT IS TO SAY, I HAVE DISCOVERED THAT I AM SURPRISINGLY ADJUSTED TO THE IDEA OF HER BEING GONE.  SHE HAS --- HAD --- BEEN ILL FOR DAYS BEFORE HER PASSING, ILL SINCE SHE INSISTED ON CARING FOR ELIZABETH AGAINST DOCTOR’S ORDERS.  AS APPRECIATIVE AS I AM OF HOW WELL-INTEGRATED INTO OUR FAMILY IS MY DARLING ELIZABETH, I CANNOT DENY THAT IT WAS MY MOTHER’S OWN FOOLISH STUBBORNNESS THAT EARNED HER SUCH A DEATH.  FURTHERMORE, THE PEACE IN HER EYES ON HER DEATHBED IS MORE REASSURING THAN ANY OTHER RATIONALE I COULD FABRICATE.

SO, YES, I RETURN TO THIS BOOK ONCE MORE, MY INK  AGAIN INDELIBLY INSCRIBING ITSELF ONTO THE PAGES… AND YET IT IS NOT FOR A RETURN TO THE FOLLIES OF MY YOUTH.  RATHER, MY MOTHER WAS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS BOOK’S BEGINNING, SO I FEEL IT ONLY FITTING FOR IT TO PAY TRIBUTE TO HER ENDING.

I LEAVE GENEVA TODAY, QUITTING MY NATIVE ESTATE FOR INGOLSTADT TO COMMENCE STUDIES THERE.  MY PARENTS LONG HAD THE IDEA IN THEIR HEADS; MY DEPARTURE HAS BEEN DELAYED BY MY MOTHER’S PASSING, BUT THE PLAN REMAINS.  I AM TO TRAVEL BY CHAISE BEFORE ALIGHTING IN BAVARIA, AN INTENTION WHICH SHOULD BRING ME TO THE SCHOOL WITH DAYS TO SPARE.

BEFORE MY STUDIES MUST BEGIN. QUITE SIMPLY, THIS IS THE END OF AN EPOCH.  MY CHILDHOOD, SUCH AS IT HAS BEEN ONE FOR THE PAST FEW YEARS, HAS OFFICIALLY WANED, REPLACED BY THE INDEPENDENCE OF MY ENSUING DEPARTURE FOR COLLEGE.  I AM BRINGING THIS BOOK ALONG FOR MOTHER’S SAKE, TO KEEP SOMETHING OF HERS WITH ME, BUT THAT IS AS FAR AS THIS FANCY SHALL GO; THE END OF MY DEPENDENCE ON MY FAMILY --- AND THE END OF MY MOTHER HERSELF --- OUGHT TO MARK THE END OF ANY REMAINING CONNECTIONS WITH THIS JOURNAL, SHOULD SNIP THE TENUOUS THREADS BINDING US TOGETHER.  THIS BOOK MAY BE TAKING THE JOURNEY WITH ME, BUT IT IS NOT AND NEVER SHALL AGAIN BE MY GUIDE; I REAFFIRM THAT I WILL NOT PERMIT MYSELF THE WEAKNESS OF RETURNING MY CONSIDERATION TO THESE PAGES.

- - -

My dearest Victor,

I trust this letter finds you well.  You’ve barely left, and yet I find myself mourning the loss of your company already.  Were it not for the darkness on our doorstep as your chaise departed, I feel as though your leaving would have been a glorious, triumphant affair; were your Mother, whom I shall forever regard as my own, still present in this estate, then, too, would your leaving be met with merriment.  As it stands, however, I fear that nervousness and grief, those two emotions that so filled your week’s delay in leaving, must reign.

It is for this reason that my hand might shake from time to time, the occasional drop of ink marring the paper.  I fear that the house, though not entirely devoid of life, is empty.  Mother is gone, you are gone, and now William and your father and I must struggle through the empty spaces you both leave behind.

Enough of this, though!  My emotional foibles must seem like such paltry things compared to your move, to the complete turmoil of uprooting and changing countries.  Though, I’m sure, your penchant for education shall confine you to your lodgings and to the library, I trust that Ingolstadt is as beautiful a city as I’ve heard it is.  Germany feels worlds away, even though we are but neighbours, and my head is rife with exotic imaginings of what you must be seeing.

And so, dearest cousin, I do hope that you shall not think me impudent when I request that you write to me.  I worry, you know.  Perhaps it is the echo of fear from the illness that claimed Mother, but I recall how absorbed you get in your work, how human interaction and basic necessities fall under the weight of your insistence on reading just one more page.  We are to be betrothed, Victor, and it is well within my purview to insist on you looking after yourself.

With that out of the way, however, I feel as though far happier topics are in order!  Do tell me, what is the school like?  How do you find the area, the people, the classes?  I’m simply abuzz with curiosity, and I can already tell that I shall eagerly await the post carriage for news from you.  William, too, desires to hear from you; he has been nagging at me to convey that he misses you dearly in the minutes it has taken me to write this.  Your father seems disconsolate without your presence, though he attempts to reconcile his unhappiness with the knowledge that you have left for personal betterment.  In short, Victor, write soon, for we all long to hear from you!

I’m sure you are busy, and a missive of any great length would be unwelcome, so I must stay my rebellious hand as it tries to write more.  Please do send news as the days go on.  As always,

Yours,
Elizabeth Levenza

- - -

SHOULD THIS JOURNAL EVER BE READ, I FEAR ANY READERS SHALL THINK ME INCONSISTENT GIVEN MY OSCILLATION IN DETERMINATION, BUT I CANNOT BRING MYSELF TO CARE.  INCONSISTENCY IS THE ONE CONSTANT IN LIFE, AFTER ALL.  MORE THAN THAT, THE EUPHORIA OF SCIENTIFIC LEARNING ONCE MORE CALLS MY NAME, A SIREN SONG OF AMBITION BECKONING ME THROUGH MY INHIBITIONS.  I KNOW THAT MY FORSAKING THOSE BASELESS BELIEFS OF AGRIPPA AND PARACELSUS HAD DRIVEN ME OFF THE PATH OF NATURAL SCIENCE, BUT SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED OVER THE COURSE OF THE LAST WEEK THAT I CAN NO LONGER BELIEVE THAT ALL GREAT MINDS OF THE FIELD ARE AS UNINFORMED.

I SHOULD BEGIN AT THE BEGINNING, I SUPPOSE, TO RECORD THIS FOR POSTERITY.  I KNOW NOT IF MY RESEARCH SHALL TAKE ME TO ANY GREAT HEIGHTS --- ONLY TIME WILL TELL --- BUT I HOPE IT WILL, AND AM TREATING THIS JOURNAL MORE AS A RECORD OF PROGRESS THAN A PRIVATE ACCOUNT.

MY FIRST DAYS ON CAMPUS WERE HARDLY MUCH TO RECORD, BARELY MORE THAN SUBMISSION OF INTRODUCTORY LETTERS AND MEETINGS WITH THE MAIN PROFESSORS ON CAMPUS. A NOTE FROM ELIZABETH FOUND ME SHORTLY AFTER MY ARRIVAL, HER FAMILIAR RED SEAL BRIGHT AGAINST THE PAPER; RESPONDING WAS A MATTER OF MERE MOMENTS, THE DIVERSION HARDLY LASTING LONG ENOUGH TO BE CLASSIFIED AS SUCH, AND YET THE THOUGHT OF MY DEAR COUSIN CHEERED ME UP IMMENSELY.  IT WAS THEN THAT I MET THE ODIOUS M. KREMPE, HIS FORM AS VULGAR AS HIS PERSONALITY.  HIS CONDESCENSION AS REGARDS MY LIMITED DEGREE OF STUDYING --- PRIMITIVE AND OBSOLETE THOUGH I RECOGNISE IT TO BE; HE HAD NO RIGHT TO SPEAK DOWN HIS NOSE AT ME --- WAS UNCALLED FOR AND GROTESQUE.

IT WAS HE, HOWEVER, WHO FIRST MENTIONED THE NAME OF M. WALDMAN, PROFESSOR OF CHEMISTRY, THE MAN WHO, IN TURN, HAS REKINDLED THE SPARK OF CURIOSITY THAT HAS LONG DRIVEN MY PURSUITS.  HIS IMPASSIONED SPEECH ON THE POWER OF MODERN CHEMISTRY WAS CONCENTRATED GENIUS, AS MOVING AND INSPIRING AS ANYTHING I’VE EVER HEARD.  FORGET AGRIPPA, EVEN IN HIS MOST CONVINCING; HE CANNOT COMPARE TO THE SIMPLE YET ELOQUENT WORDS FROM WALDMAN’S SPEECH.

I HAVE NOT YET SLEPT, DESPITE THE SUN HAVING LONG LOST ITS POSITION IN THE HEAVENS, REPLACED BY THE MOON’S WIDE-EYED FACE.  I GAVE UP ON THE PURSUIT FOR LONG ENOUGH TO RECORD MY THOUGHTS, BUT I CAN SEE THE LIGHTENING OF THE PITCH-BLACK SKY AND I FEEL MYSELF DRIFTING OFF.

I MUST DEPART, BUT THIS TIME I MAKE NO VOW NOT TO RETURN.

- - -

MY ADAM LIES NEARLY COMPLETED ON THE SLAB TODAY.  IT IS WITH CONFLICTING EMOTIONS THAT I CAN REGARD HIM, TORN BETWEEN UTTER PRIDE AT HAVING CONCLUDED A PROJECT SO LONG IN THE MAKING AND THE BEREAVEMENT OF LOSING THE PURPOSE DRIVING ME FOR SO LONG.  IT IS NEARLY INCONCEIVABLE FOR ME TOO TO CONSIDER A DAY WHERE THE BURNING RECOLLECTION OF WORK TO BE DONE WILL BE ABSENT, WHERE NOTHING SHALL POSSESS MY MIND SO THOROUGHLY THAT EATING, DRINKING, AND SLEPING SLEEPING SHALL FALL TO THE WAYSIDE.  THANKFULLY, MY FIRST DAYS SHALL FACE NO SUCH EMPTINESS; I FINALLY BROUGHT MYSELF TO EXAMINE THE POST FROM THE LAST WEEK, AND NO FEWER THAN FOUR LETTERS FROM ELIZABETH GREETED ME THERE; I OWE IT TO HER TO LOOK AT THEM SOON… THOUGH, I FEEL, TODAY IS NOT THE TIME.  THEY SHALL REMAIN UNOPENED, TUCKED SAFELY IN HERE UNTIL I FIND THE WHEREWITHAL TO OPEN, READ, AND ANSWER THEM.

LAST NIGHT MARKED THE BEGINNING OF FINAL ASSEMBLY OF MY ADAM’S FORM.  HIS LARGE STATURE IS FINALLY CLOTHED IN SKIN AND MUSCULATURE, A MESH OF STITCHED tOgeTHeR TiSsUe cOBbled into A MOSAIC OF MY OWN CREATION.  I KNOW THAT NO ONE WOULD understand, THAT, IF ANY OF MY late-night EXTRA-curriculaR PURSUITS CAME TO PUBLIC ATTENTION, I WOULD FACE scandal AND outrAGe…

and yet, WITH STOrM CloUDs brewing ON THE HORIZON, I AKLSDJLAKSJDF SHALL NOT -–- CAN NOT –-- STOP NOW.  MY MASTERPIECE IS NEARY DONE, SO close TO PERFECTION.  WHEN STREAMS OF FIRE COURSE DOWN FROM THE HEAVENS, SURGING THROUGH THE STILL, CONGEALED BLOOD still coursing within the MANMADE VEINS of my creation… only then shall my WORK FINALLY BE COMPLETE.  AND, with THE FARMER’S ALMANAC DESCRIBING heaVy RaIN THROUGHOUT THIS MONTH, WITH THOSE SELF-SAME CLOUDS already RoiLINg the air, I NOW THAT MY WORK SHALL BE COMPLETE SOON.  PERHaPS, if THE FATEs be with me, my WORK SHALL BE COMPLETE TONIGHT.

- - -

THERE IS NO DOUBT IN MY MIND THAT I HAVE MADE A GRIEVOUS, UNFORGIVABLE ERROR, AND I KNOW, WITHIN MY HEART, THAT THERE SHALL NEVER BE A REMEDY FOR IT.  I HAVE GAZED INTO THE FACE OF EVIL, HAVE SEEN DEATH ITSELF PERSONIFIED IN GREY, CLOUDY EYES, HAVE FELT THE CHILL OF MINGLED FEAR, DISGUST, AND HORROR TRAVEL DOWN MY SPINE.  I KNOW THERE IS NAUGHT TO BLAME BUT MYSELF, AND YET I CURSE WHATEVER DEITY SAW FIT TO GUIDE ME ALONG THIS DAMNED PATH, TO LEAD ME TO THE CREATION OF A PROMETHEUS WHO HAS BETRAYED ME SO DEVASTATINGLY.    

I HAVE SEEN HIM RISEN.  HIS EVERY ASPECT IS ONE OF DOOM, HIS PALLOR THAT OF DEATH WARMED OVER --- QUITE LITERALLY --- THE GASPING GROWLS THAT RISE FROM A MANGLED, DECAYING THROAT AS DESICCATED AND WHISTLING AS WIND WENDING THROUGH ROTTEN WOOD.  I DESIGNED HIM TO BE THE PERFECT BEING; PERFECTION HAS TURNED ON ITS HEAD, ABSOLUTE BEAUTY CONFLICTING WITH ABSOLUTE DAMNATION INTO A CREATURE AS HIDEOUS AS ANYTHING I’VE EVER SEEN.  AND THE SMELL; THE STENCH OF SACCHARINE SWEET DECAY, OF CLOGGING DEATH FINDING ITS WAY INTO EVERY ORIFICE AND CLINGING THERE LIKE MOLD.  I DON’T KNOW HOW I MISSED IT BEFORE, BUT I CAN SMELL IT BENEATH THE VENEER OF EMBALMING FLUID, DIRT, AND RAIN.

HE STOOD!  I CANNOT CONFESS HOW HORRIBLE WAS THE SIGHT, HOW DISJOINTED AND UNNATURAL WAS THE SHIFTING OF HIS MASSIVE FORM, OF THE GRATING OF BONES AND POPPING OF CARTILAGE.  THE MERE RECOLLECTION OF THE SCENE SENDS MASSIVE SHIVERS THROUGHOUT ME, SETS THAT DULL, CRINGING ACHE TO MY TEETH.  I CAN BARELY THINK OF THE MOMENT WITHOUT COVERING MY EARS, TRYING TO DROWN OUT THE OMNIPRESENT MEMORY OF THE THING MOVING.

CLERVAL ARRIVED TONIGHT, AND WE RETURNED TO MY LODGINGS TO FIND THE CREATURE VANISHED.  HE HAS DISAPPEARED INTO THE NIGHT, AND I CAN ONLY PRAY THAT HE SHALL NOT RETURN.  I CAN SEE HENRY STARING AT ME FROM ACROSS THE ROOM, FACE PINCHED IN THAT ALL-TOO-FAMILIAR EXPRESSION OF CONCERN; I HAVE NOT TOLD HIM OF MY FOLLY, OF THE HIDEOUS MONSTER I HAVE UNLEASHED ON THE WORLD.  I SHALL NOT TELL HIM.  I CANNOT.

I CANNOT CONTINUE, EITHER.  I HAVE GONE TOO FAR, HAVE CREATED A THING THAT SHOULD NEVER HAVE EXISTED. THE BOUNDS OF NATURAL SCIENCE BID ME STOP; I HEEDED THEM NOT AT ALL.  NOW, I --- AND ALL OF MANKIND --- SHALL CURSE ME AS THE CREATOR OF A CREATURE SO HIDEOUS, SO VICIOUS, SO ANIMALISTIC.  I CANNOT CONTINUE, CANNOT ALLOW EVEN THE TEMPTATION OF EXPANDING THIS RESEARCH FURTHER TO REMAIN WITHIN MY GRASP.  THE BOOK IS RETURNING TO MY LUGGAGE AGAIN, AS IT WAS THAT DAY ALL THOSE YEARS AGO AS IT LURKED AMID MY SHIRTS ON THE WAY TO INGOLSTADT.  THIS TIME, MAY IT NEVER BE OPENED AGAIN.     

- - -

NEWS HAS COME THAT I FEAR IS BUT THE START OF THE FATES’ PUNISHMENT FOR MY FOLLY.  MY DEAR FATHER --– OH, HOW LONG I HAVE DESIRED TO HEAR FROM HIM, ONLY TO BE REWARDED WITH THIS NEWS –-- HAS WRITTEN AT LONG LAST.  HIS NEWS IS NOT THE LONG-AWAITED PROMISE OF A HAPPY HOMECOMING, BUT ONE OF TRAGEDY.

WILLIAM IS DEAD.  IF WRAPPING MY HEAD AROUND MY MOTHER’S PASSING WAS HARD, ABSORBING THAT MY DEAR BROTHER IS DEAD, THAT SOMEONE –-- SOME FOUL, BASE VILLAIN OF A CHARACTER --– KILLED HIM FOR A CAMEO CLASPED AROUND HIS NECK… ACCEPTING THAT IS WELL-NIGH IMPOSSIBLE.

I KNOW, DEEP DOWN, THAT THIS IS A PUNISHMENT.  I KNOW NOT WHO, PRECISELY, SAW FIT TO ENAKT ENACT DIVINE RETRIBUTION AGAINST ME, BUT IT IS MY FAULT THAT POOR, YOUNG WILLIAM HAS BEEN KILLED.  NOT, PERHAPS, THROUGH ANY DIRECT ACTION OF MINE, BUT, AT LEAST, THROUGH CONTRAVENING THE NATURAL ORDER OF THE WORLD.

CLERVAL HAS ATTEMPTED TO ASSUAGE MY GULT GUILT, KIND WORDS OF REASSURANCE INSISTING THAT WILLIAM WAS IN A BETTER PLACE.  I CANNOT FULLY BRING MYSELF TO AGREE, AND YET THE KIND THOUGHT IS A COSNL CONSOLATION, A BLAM BALM ON A SOUL RAVAGED BY IRRATIONAL GUILT.  EVEN AS I RECOGNISE THAT LOGIC DICTATES THAT WILLIAM’S DEATH WAS ALMOST CERTAINLY NOT PRECIPITATED BY MY ACTIONS, I CANNOT RESIST FEELING AS THOUGH BLAME HAS FALLEN ON MY SHOULDERS.

I AM SETTING OFF FOR GENEVA SOON, TO RETURN TO A HOME ONCE MORE WRECKED BY A TERRIBLE TRAGEDY.  MY MOTHER WAS TAKEN FROM US AS I LEFT AND MY BROTHER WAS TAKEN FROM US AS I RETURN.  SOMETIMES I WONDER IF I AM CURSED.

CLERVAL HAS CALLED THE HORSES.  WE AWAITED THEIR ARRIVAL AS I WROTE THESE WORDS, BUT I CAN HEAR THE GENTLE CLOPPING OF THEIR APPROACH.  I HOPE TO BE IN GENEVA BEFORE THE WEEK IS OUT.  UNTIL THEN, I ONCE MORE RELEGATE THIS JOURNAL TO SILENCE AND OBSCURITY.

- - -

I FEAR that I HAVE ALLOWED MY SCIENTIFIC DUTY to fade AFTER RETURNING HOME.  TOO MUCH HAS HAPPENED for me to be CONCERNED about recording the TERRIBLE, GOD-FORSAKEN EVENTS that have OCCURRED IN THE TIME THAT HAS PASSED SINCE I LAST WROTE.

I’m AFRAID THAT justine --– JUSTINE, WHO SO BECAME A PART OF OUR FAMILY --– has been KILLED AS WELL.  SHE, two, has been TAKEN UNJUSTLY FROM THE WORLD, her light SNUFFED OUT by a foreign hand, UNDESERVING as it wrecks AN INNOCENT LIFE.  THE SOLE DIFFERENCE is that, THIS TIME, THE HAND was MY OWN, and I have NO ONE TO BLAME but me.

Elizabeth is TAKING IT HARD, AND I CANNOT BEAR TO SEE IT CONTINUE, but NOR can I CONFESS my own FAILURE.  For I have discovered THE TRUTH – the horrible, God-forsaken truth – that WILLIAM’S MURDER IS MY OWN FAULT.

MY FAULT.  The words are hard to write, to GRASP, to UNDERSTAND.  I HAD VIEWED HIS DEATH AS RECOMPENSE FOR MY SINS; I hadn’t REALIZED that it’s my own FAULT in a far MORE CONCRETE WAY.

I FIRMLY BELIEVE that MY CREATURE --– my ADAM –-- is the foul BEAST that has KILLED WILLIAM, my darling brother.  I have SEEN HIM, lurking, WAITING at the scene of the CRIME.  I COULD SEE HIM, HIDING IN THE STORM, WAITING for me.  I should have MOVED, SHOULD ASKDJLF have given CHASE, put an END to the creature I CREATED.  Instead, HE TAUNTS ME, lurking in THE shadows by the BLUFFS UNTIL the flickering LIGHTNING --– as always, my inspiration, my COMPANION, my FRIEND –-- REVEALED my Adam hiding, lurking, concealed and gloating.

WORSE, he gloats over NOT JUST ME.  Poor JUSTINE, dear servant and friend and family… she has been EXECUTED.  More than merely EXECUTED, she was killed, ALONE and ABANDONED, FORSAKEN by all askdjfasfda who should have TRUSTED her, SHOULD have HAD FAITH and supported her through her TIME of NEED.

And yet, HER DEATH is far more MERCIFUL than MYLIS MY LIFE.  ASLDJF  SHE got to dye DIE in INNOCENCE, emotnsoially emotionally FREE if not UNSHACKLED.  I, however, must LIVE, TRAPPED in my GUILT, ensconced in my WRONGDOINGS and MISTAKES.

It was ADAM, ADAM, ADAM, ADAM, ADAM who has killed Justine.  And yet, so, too, was it ME.

- - -

I HAVE MUCH TO THINK ABOUT.  I FEAR THAT THIS IS A CRISIS OF SCIENTIFIC ETHICS, AND I HAVE MUCH TO CONTEMPLATE.  I MAKE MY EXCUSES NOW, THROUGH THE ROAR OF MY OWN THOUGHTS.

I have met ADAM out in the WILDERNESS.  Icy crags and mountains were all that WITNESSED our meeting, but I know that HE FOUND ME, losing myself in peaceful SOLITUDE.  He had just BEEN THERE, previously GASPING GROANS replaced by COALESCING SOUNDS, WORDS AND INTELLIGENCE from a dead ldaskjffajklsd brain that NEVER should ahev been RETURNED to LIFE.

He SPOKE! How he knew words was mystifying until he explained… BUT THAT TOOK SPEECH.

And with that speech, Adam –-- HIDEOUS, EVIL, ACCURSED ADAM --– has the NERVE to ask em ME – his equally jhwdjhb damned creator – for an EVE. As though 1 of the creatures wasn’t ENOUGH!!!

And yes, even AFTER ALL HE’S –-- nay IT has –-- done, I find myself SWAYED by his PLEAS, so seemingly HEARTfelt… never MEND MIND that said HEART was hbws DEAD. jbhdj STOLEN, and MAN-STARTED. Perhaps… perhaps THE EMOTIONS INSIDE WERE REAL? Or atleasdt at heart, REAL ENOUGH, to simulate LONLINESS, a desire for COMPANIONSHIP?

An Eve… its a bizarre thought. I had of course, considered it, back when DREAMS of creating A NEW RACE filled my HEAD WITH AMBITION. I couldn’t bring myself to START with her, couldn’t visualise a PERFECT FEMALE as easily as I could a PERFECT MAN. Now though, the IDEA of making an EVE is ABHORRENT for a far jhbd different REASON.

My ADAM was a failure, A VICIOUS HWKSKW ANIMALISTIC, EVIL creature, HELL-sent and HELL-bent with REVENGE as jherhke it’s GOAL. and it CLAIMS that it will SURRENDER? Will just, what? LEAVE. Disappear, back to the MOUNTAINS? Bjhedjhbwebbh a hostile bitter world of HUNGER and LONELINESS? 

I can hardly TRUST a MONSTER’S word! And yet, the THINLY-DISGUISED THREAT should I fail to jhebw fail to COMPLY… Do I DARE to say NO?

And then there's the THIRD point… THAT TOO-FAMILIAR CONCERN hd of the FUTURE and those who might FOLLOW my desicion … HOW might our posterity be affected by my SELFISHNESS? Their bmhd HEALTH and SAFETY, those ever-present problems… I simply CANNOT DECIDE………………….

I shall DO IT. It is no easy decision, but I feel I MUST. It is my jhbe DUTY. I created LIFE. geb SO, too, must I CARETAKE that life. Besides, an EVE, a scientific RECREATION of my SUCCESS is crucial. 

I have decided. I MUST DO IT. 

- - -

I NEVER ANTICIPATED A RETURN TO MY LABORATORY, TO CHEMISTRY AND RESURRECTION.  IT’S REFRESHING, IN A WAY, A RETURN TO NORMALCY, TO STRUCTURE AND RULES AND STRICTURES OF PROTOCOL.  THERE IS NO ROOM FOR ANGER OR FEAR; THERE IS MERELY WORK.  AS ALWAYS, I AM LOSING CARE FOR EATING AND SLEEPING AND LIVING OUTSIDE THE LAB… REFRESHING.

Refreshing and MADDENING.  the work is askjdf but a DISTRACTION, and nto a very good one, as each GLANCE at my PROJECT reminds me of my task… my ADAM and his EVE, together in HIS DREAMS and MY NIGHTMARES, a duo of INDOMITABLE STRENGTH and INHUMAN CRUELTY.  The one has sworn vengeance; the other is but his COMPANION.  HOW can I TRUST the word I have been GIVEN?

BUT I MUST CONTINUE MY WORK IN THE HOPES THAT MAYBE --– JUST MAYBE –-- SHE SHALL TEMPER HIS WRATH, THAT THEIR EDEN SHALL ENSURE HUMANITY’S PROTECTION.  IF THIS MEANS THAT I MUST ONCE MORE TASTE THAT FAMILIAR POISON FRUIT OF AMBITION, SO BE IT.

I VISIT ANOTHER GRAVEYARD TONIGHT.

(P.S. I GOT SOME LETTERS FROM ELIZABETH.  I MUST RESPOND WHEN THIS IS ALL OVER)

- - -

I’VE NOT DONE IT.   I could NOT BRING MYSELF to.  THERE I SAT, WORKING on my CUSRED ACCURSED task, and I simply COULD NOT GO ON, damn it!  My eyes fell on a recent letter from elizabeth, still resting unopened on my dakse desk earlier today, the mdasemoyr MEMORY of her HAND, her FEATURES, her COUNTENANCE, all plsaed ABJURING me, “Victor, you CANNOT!”  fasjd

asdf I did not  HEED her WARNING, btu but CONTINUED WORK on my DAMNED project, such as this flolsy FOLLY could bej BE CALLED.  And yet, the MEMORY OF HER stuck around, my the EVE to my ADAM, just as my CREATURE seeks his own MATE.

And so, when I SAW HIM, lurking, just outside my WINDOW, the CAESMNET casement REVEALING as he gazed inside, face FILLED with PROPRIETARY, COVETOUS FANATICISM thas that I SHUDDER to recall… Then, too, did my dear ELIZABETH fill my MIND.  Thasa THAT letter caught my EYE, RED and PRISTINE seal against WHITE PARCHMENT, and that TERRIBLE ANGER filled me –-- flashes of WILLIAM, of that BLSTADED HANRPEDN BLASTED HANDPRINT marring ydns young FLESH, of JUSTINE, EXECUTED for a CRIME she did not COMMIT, that, in all FAIRNESS, I have CAUSED –-- and the EVIL, ABHORRENT, HALF-FORMED thing I nearly gave LIFE, my second QUASIMODO ruined even more DETESTABLE, and I COULD NOT RESTRAIN MYSELF.

EVE was in pieces in SECONDS, HAF-FORMED replaced with UNFORMED.  Adam ADAM disappeared for tso lsngo TOO LONG and yet TOO SHORT a time besoref before returning.

He has lfet left once more.  HIS WORDS ring in my ears, VICIOUS and VITUPERATIVE and THREATENING.  They stick with me even now.  “I shall be with you on your wedding day.”

I SHALL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING DAY.

I SHALL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING DAY.

I SHALL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDINGDAY.

I SHALL BE WITH YOUON YOUR WEDDINGDAY.

ISHALL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING DAY.

ISHALL BEWITH YOUON YOURWEDDING DAY.

ISHALL BE WITHYOU ON YOUR WEDDINGDAY.

ISHALLBEWITHYOUONYOURWEDDINGDAY.

- - -

I HAVE COME BACK TO MYSELF, I BELIEVE. BEFORE THIS MOMENT, THE HAZE OF DELIRIUM DESCENDED UPON ME, CONFUSING AND TERRIFYING IN A CONFUSING MIASMA OF REALITY AND MY OWN TWISTED PSYCHE.  EVEN WHEN MY FUGUE FADED AND SANITY RETURNED, I WAS NOT ALLOWED MUCH BY WAY OF ACCESS TO MY WRITING UTENSILS, REMANDED AS THEY WERE INTO POLICE CS CUSTODY.

I FEAR THAT I HAVE NOT HAD THE TIME TO RECORD THIS BEFORE, BUT FURTHER TRADG TRAGEDY HAS REARED ITS UGLY HEAD.  MY OWN ARREST IS MERELY THE UNFORTUNATE CONSEQUENCE.

I CAN HARDLY BRING MYSELF TO WRITE THIS, BUT CLERVAL IS DEAD.  My creation, ADAM, progeny…. IT HAS KILLED HIM.  I was arrested for the crime, a JUSTINE to take the fall for HIS CRIME… but I have been delivered from my FATE, my INNOCENCE PROVED.  If only they knew just how GUILTY I really am, theyw .

HIS WORDS still ring in my ERRAS EARS, and I cannot help the FEAR that fills me at recalling them.  Now that HENRY has so BRUTALLY been taken from me, i have no DOUBT that my CREATURE shall follow through on his THREAT.

I must return to geneva soon.  ELIZABTH JAFD awaits me, and I cannot remain away any longer.  Yet, even now, the FEAR from my monster is far too fresh for any enthusiasm for returning HOME and bringing this SCOURGE down upon my family HOME.

WE return home on the morrow.  its an occasion that fills me with CONFUSION, FEAR, and DREAD.  Clerval’s BODY hovers just behind my eyelids, omni-present and MACABRE.  I SHALL BE READY.  Let the BEAST attack.

I SHALL BE READY.

- - -

We have returned to GENEVA.  It has been dyas days SINCE, and I have TRIED, TRIED, TRIED to get those words WORDS from my mind.  I have FLASI FAILED.

EHT My dearest ELIZABETH is enthusiastic about our ucpsoming upcoming nuptuals.  I saw her printing WEDDING INVITATIONS today, an enthusiastic msile SMILE on her face.  SEH She has picked RED ROSES as part of the wedding theme.  its merely another reminder of what HAS HAPPENED, of that nghi night when her SEAL let me snapp fare FREE from the MONSTER’S brainwashing.

those WRODS WORDS still ring.  I SHALL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING NIGHT I SHALL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING NIGHT I SHALL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING NIGHT I SHALL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING NIGHT I SHALL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING NIGHT I SHALL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING NIGHT

HE SHALL BE THERE.  HE SHALL TRY TO KILL ME.  I SHALL BE READY

- - -

MY WIFE IS DEAD.  I found her mscyhel myself.  We were MARRIED today, and yet now… NOW IS SHE DEAD.  se she was mine for all of a few hours… and my creature –-- my adam ADAM… AAKDSJFLASDF has KILELD HER.

My words fail, fail, fail falis , FAIL me.  She was mine.  She is dad dead dead dead dead DEAD.  i SAW HER, ATHSODSKJ , STRANGLED on our bd bed, on her BRIDAL BOWER.  It is a travesty.

Time has passed.  My father has died, after my ELIZABETH, mere days ago.  I could not bring myself to WRITE fo of the TRAGEDY that has gripped me, not tltnil until my FATHER and, with him, MY last CONNECTION to anyone but my ADAM, teh bsatw lay DEAD.

I shall hunt him down I swear it.  I SHALL HUNT HIM DOWN I SWEAR IT.  I SWEAR IT.

I SWEAR IT.

- - -

I LEAVE FOR THE ARCTIC TODAY.  I have finally heard of the damn BEAST, the FOUL, EVIL VIOLENT, VICIOUS THING I HAVE BROUGHT INTO THIS WORLD at a port near the start of the Arctic ice flows floes.  I hope too find him TOMORROW.

It is VERY COLD, as expected, and my hnda HAND shakes more than my NORMAL, IMPECCABLE, UNIFORM PRINT.  Its hard to fleed FEEL my dn fingers, they are so nmub NUMB, even within my gloves.

I MUST GO.  I HAVE HEARD MORE.  MY pen is dying from the COLD, and I suspect that it will not improve for LONG.  it comes in FITS and STARTS, STRONG then WEAKENING.  YOU SHALL LIKELY NOT HEAR FROM ME AGAIN, SHould my ink freeze for good.

Farewell, until next time.

- - -

THE END IS NEAR.  I CAN FEEL IT.  MY HEAD IS ACHING, MY BACK TIRED FROM CARRYING THE WEIGHT HEAPED UPON IT.  I DON’T FEEL AS THOUGH MY HEAD is my onw own.  Rather, it is caused by my owN PREOCCUPATION with that damn craeature.

I am DYING.  I hvaw flaside I have FAILED.  ADAM, the creature, yet LIVES.

I have met a man to whom I HOPE I may pass on my task.  ROBERT WALTON is a good man, much like my younger self.  WALTON is my onsl only HOPE.

Thus, however, shall I DIE.  Alone, surrounded by one MRES MERE PERSON.  Forsaken.  Cold and alone, my creature alive and my quest unfulfilled.  I HAVE FLADE FAILED.

Thus, do I DIE, but I shall NOT be at PEACE.

- - -

To whom it may concern,

The great Victor Frankenstein is dead.  I have witnessed his passing myself, have seen the light of his soul flicker and fade away amidst the ice floes of the Arctic, and I know beyond a doubt that his passing is monumental.

I have heard his story from beginning to end, have recorded the details as faithfully as I can within missives to my sister, and yet I cannot simply leave this journal incomplete.  It may lack an owner to complete it, but I shall endeavour to fill the man’s great footsteps for completion’s sake.

Frankenstein’s creature has left us.  I know not what will become of it, but it claims that it seeks its demise amid the icy crags in the distance; after seeing what became of its creator, I can only hope that the damned thing will follow through.

We’re setting off for civilisation, returning unsuccessful from our mission… And yet I find myself surprisingly accepting of this disheartening solution.  Perhaps it is merely an excess of cautious humour thanks to the tale I have heard or the creature I have seen, but it is best to heed the warnings of mutiny from my crew and take safety over loss.

May the Fates see us through our journey.

Robert Walton