Thursday, January 10, 2013

A Monster’s Requiem

[1st Draft]

He took a longer, deep, drag of his cigarette, this time, holding that sweet smoke in until he felt light-headed and dizzy from the lack of air. He loved the feeling of being weightless, devoid of thoughts and presence, just a feeling of euphoria. He released the smoke slowly, almost reverently, pursing his lips into an ‘O’ making smoke-rings. They looked like halos. He thought, amused.

His half opened eyes, heavy lids hiding grey intelligence, lazily traced the smoke-rings above him. He wondered briefly, at the rings, where the essence of the smoke went when it disappeared? Did the essence have 'essence souls'? In essence....a Spirit? Smoke Spirit? He chuckled softly at his clever words. Father Pietro would not be amused at all at his blasphemy. Father Pietro….he smiled fondly recalling the time…..WAIT!

He suddenly stood up, dropping his half-smoked cigarette. A memory! He had remembered something! This mind had loosened its hold and allowed a memory to escape. He mustn’t lose it again. It had been so long!

He took slowed measured breaths, afraid, least this precious memory disappeared. He held this curdle, gently in his mind, like a newborn. He went strand by strand, hoping to gain more glimpses, more clues from this lost maze. His hands clench tightly on the sides of the old leather armrest, creaking strains protesting against the sudden violence. No! He cannot lose this! Not again!

And as fast as it came, the memory slipped away. He was back again in the dark.



He looked around the room with tortured grey eyes now, only a single candle alight to show his anguish. For a moment, he saw dim shadows dancing on the walls, struggling seemingly to get closer to the light for warmth....or were they mocking him?

Why can’t he remember?

He closed his eyes and sat heavily back down; quiet again, only his harsh breathing could be heard.  He wanted to rally against this injustice, beat his head into submission, take a knife and cut the truth out….maybe just cut his life instead. Leave this existence. He could go and find out where the essence of that smoke disappeared to.  But he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave now that he found Her. Her.

A muffled sound broke his thoughts of Her.

He opened his eyes and turned to the window. Was it time yet? He jumped out and walked purposefully to the opening and hungrily stared out. Was it time yet?

There She was. He gazed at Her lovingly. Longingly.

Lying quietly and still, Her beauty shone from within her alabaster skin, touches of orange, glows from candlelight, colored slightly her petal, turned lips and cheeks, giving it a pink hue. Her hair, color of black coals, with sliver specks looked almost alive by the flickering candles. 

She was so beautiful. Unearthly. Almost an angel. And he wanted Her, all of Her. But the Doctor said He had to wait. Tonight was the last night of the procedure. Then He could have Her, the Doctor had said. Jealously twisted deep in him. He didn’t know why. He didn’t want the Doctor to touch Her. 

The rage began to build. She was to be his. She belonged to him. Only Him. The rage took over and his mind began to fill with thoughts of killing. He saw his hands, wet and red, clutching a knife, plunging in deep into a chest. He marveled at the blood, the way it sang to him as it ran down his arm. He raised his hand to admire the red thickness of it. Ah…it smelt sweet.  So sweet! Did he dare? He raised the tips of his fingers and tasted, tentatively at first. Yes! It tasted as sweet as it smelt. He shifted his weight and looked down. His other hand was twitching uncontrollably. He saw the blade in it, and looked curiously. Where did he get the knife? He raised it closer and saw his reflection; grey eyes against grey steel amidst the blood, and saw eyes turning from glee to horror!

He blinked furiously and looked around! He was still in his shadowed room! It was just a memory, come, and now gone. More questions. His raged filled him again until he could hear his harsh breathing, drumming loud in his ears like a war song.  He looked up and saw the lying form. Her. He uttered a ragged groan. His eyes forcibly softened and the rage calmed.

Tonight. You will be finally be mine, He thought and began musing of all the things He would show Her, all the grand adventures they would share together. Together.

He smiled gently to himself. He would not be alone again. Ever. Now that he has Her. He looked anxiously at Her again, making sure it was real and not a dream. In his musing, He had not notice the door opening. A loud slamming brought his eyes, straining to his left. It was the Doctor and his assistant.

The Doctor eagerly walked towards Him, and leaned over to whisper feveredly, “Are you ready? Eager to HEAR her beating heart, as much as my eagerness to FEEL her heart beat? A life hangs in the balance tonight!” Laughing hysterically, the Doctor turned to point at the hanging pulley as it began to crank, synching up bit by bit pulling Her body up. Lightning flashed outlining Her motionless body jerking by the force of the pulley as it swung side to side. Higher and higher to the gnawing hole in the castle’s roof where several large metal coils stood ready.

Looking ahead at a mirror, He saw his vile, roughly sewn bits of flesh; deep, jagged cuts with thick, bulbous mounds marking where different colored skins were hacked and joined into red flesh with careless sewing. Only grey eyes marked him to be a man. What MAN?  His rage came alive at the thought and raw visage before him. The Doctor did this to him! Made him into this monstrous animal!

Sounds of moving chains grinding as He looked again, out of the windows of his eyes, this time a murderous grey. A low guttural voice came out, like rock on steel. He growled quietly, “Yesssss Doctorrrr. Tonight. A lifeee hangssss in the balaaance.”

The Doctor turned and gestured wildly to his assistant, “Igor! It is time! The storms are ahead and the final steps must be taken tonight! Tonight! She will be ALIVE!”

Overhead, thunder howled at the lashing winds.

Soon, He thought. 

The Monster turned again to Victor Frankenstein and smiled. He will need to find a knife.

- The End -


  1. I got scared. If you ever need a screamer when you turn this into a film, let me know. My daughter has really strong lungs! :)

    1. Dear Lillian....I do some animations. I could use those screams lol

  2. what fun! i loved it! very nice. thank you for sharing it!! did you have fun writing it? i feel like you did. i'd love to see some of your animations for it. :)

    1. Thx Molly. I had crazy fun writing out the scenes. Yes. I will hopefully post new animations here - as this will be my main site for uncensored experimental arts I'll be trying out.