Chapters (69)
- Cover
- ALSO BY KIERSTEN WHITE
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Part One: How Can I Live Without Thee?
- Chapter One: To Be Weak Is Miserable
- Chapter Two: What Hath Night to Do with Sleep?
- Chapter Three: In Wandering Mazes Lost
- Chapter Four: Half Lost, I Seek
- Chapter Five: With Purpose to Explore or to Disturb
- Chapter Six: Round He Throws His Baleful Eyes
- Chapter Seven: I Sung of Chaos and Eternal Night
- Chapter Eight: Horror and Doubt Distract His Troubled Thoughts
- Chapter Nine: This Horror Will Grow Mild, This Darkness Light
- Chapter Ten: To Lose Thee Were to Lose Myself
- Chapter Eleven: When from Sleep I First Awaked
- Part Two: What Is Dark Within Me, Illumine
- Chapter Twelve: At Once Indebted and Discharged
- Chapter Thirteen: That All This Good of Evil Shall Produce
- Chapter Fourteen: What Can We Suffer Worse?
- Chapter Fifteen: Love or Hate, to Me Alike
- Chapter Sixteen: So Farewell Hope
- Part Three: Long Is the Way and Hard, That Out of Hell Leads Up to Light
- Chapter Seventeen: Which Way Shall I Fly
- Chapter Eighteen: His Dark Materials to Create More Worlds
- Chapter Nineteen: Should God Create Another Eve
- Chapter Twenty: Flesh of Flesh, Bone of My Bone
- Chapter Twenty-one: Him Whom to Love Is to Obey
- Chapter Twenty-two: Hail Horrors, Hail Infernal World
- Chapter Twenty-three: So Shall the World Go on, to Good Malignant, to Bad Men Benign
- Chapter Twenty-four: And Study of Revenge, Immortal Hate
- Chapter Twenty-five: Did I Request Thee, Maker, from My Clay, to Mold Me Man?
- Chapter Twenty-six: Which Way Shall I Fly
- Chapter Twenty-seven: That Must Be Our Cure: To Be No More
- Epilogue: I Sung of Chaos and Eternal Night
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Excerpt from The Guinevere Deception
- About the Author
- TEACHER GUIDE, ARRANGED BY THEME
- Frankenstein
- Author’s Introduction
- Preface
- Chapter I
- Chapter II
- Chapter III
- Chapter IV
- Chapter V
- Chapter VI
- Chapter VII
- Chapter VIII
- Chapter IX
- Chapter X
- Chapter XI
- Chapter XII
- Chapter XIII
- Chapter XIV
- Chapter XV
- Chapter XVI
- Chapter XVII
- Chapter XVIII
- Chapter XIX
- Chapter XX
- Chapter XXI
- Chapter XXII
- Chapter XXIII
- Chapter XXIV
- About The Modern Library
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I remained motionless. The thunder ceased; but the rain still continued, and the scene was enveloped in an impenetrable darkness. I revolved in my mind the events which I had until now sought to forget: the whole train of my progress towards the creation; the appearance of the work of my own hands alive at my bedside; its departure. Two years had now nearly elapsed since the night on which he first received life; and was this his first crime? Alas! I had turned loose into the world a depraved wretch, whose delight was in carnage and misery; had he not murdered my brother?
No one can conceive the anguish I suffered during the remainder of the night, which I spent, cold and wet, in the open air. But I did not feel the inconvenience of the weather; my imagination was busy in scenes of evil and despair. I considered the being whom I had cast among mankind, and endowed with the will and power to effect purposes of horror, such as the deed which he had now done, nearly in the light of my own vampire, my own spirit let loose from the grave, and forced to destroy all that was dear to me.
Day dawned; and I directed my steps towards the town. The gates were open, and I hastened to my father’s house. My first thought was to discover what I knew of the murderer, and cause instant pursuit to be made. But I paused when I reflected on the story that I had to tell. A being whom I myself had formed, and endued with life, had met me at midnight among the precipices of an inaccessible mountain. I remembered also the nervous fever with which I had been seized just at the time that I dated my creation, and which would give an air of delirium to a tale otherwise so utterly improbable. I well knew that if any other had communicated such a relation to me, I should have looked upon it as the ravings of insanity. Besides, the strange nature of the animal would elude all pursuit, even if I were so far credited as to persuade my relatives to commence it. And then of what use would be pursuit? Who could arrest a creature capable of scaling the overhanging sides of Mont Salêve? These reflections determined me, and I resolved to remain silent.
It was about five in the morning when I entered my father’s house. I told the servants not to disturb the family, and went into the library to attend their usual hour of rising.