Fiction: Frankenstein (Excerpt from Chapter 5)
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Frankenstein by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley. Chapter five It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils with an anxiety that almost amounted to agony. I collected the instruments of life around me that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning. The rain patter dismally against the pains on my candle, was nearly burnt out when, by the glimmer of the half extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open. It breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs. How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe? Or how delineate the wretch, whom with such infinite pains and care I had endeavoured to form his limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful, beautiful, great God. His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath his hair was of a lustrous black and flowing his teeth of a pearly whiteness. But these luxurious has only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes that seemed almost of the same color as the done white sockets in which they were set, his shriveled complexion and straight black lips. His jaws opened and he muttered some inarticulate sounds while a grin wrinkled his cheeks. He might have spoken, but I did not hear. One hand was stretched out, seemingly to detain me, but I escaped and rushed downstairs. I took refuge in the courtyard belonging to the house, which I inhabited where I remained during the rest of the night, walking up and down in the greatest agitation, listening attentively, catching and fearing each sound as if it were to announce the approach of the D maniacal corpse to which I had so miserably given life. Oh, no, Mortal could support the horror of that countenance A mummy again in viewed with animation could not be so hideous. Is that wretch I had gazed on him while I'm finished. He was ugly then, But when those muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it became a thing such as even Dante could not have conceived. I passed the light wretchedly. Sometimes my pulse beat so quickly and hardly that I felt the palpitation of every artery at others. I nearly sank to the ground through Langer and extreme weakness mingled with this horror. I felt the bitterness of disappointment, dreams that had been my food and pleasant rest for so long, a space where now become a **** to me. And the change was so rapid the overthrow so complete morning, dismal and wet at length, dawn and discovered to my sleepless and aching eyes, the Church of England start. It's white steeple and clock, which indicated the sixth hour. The porter opened the gates of the court, which had that night been my asylum, and I issued into the streets, pacing them with quick steps, as if I sought to avoid the wretch whom I feared every turning of the street would present. To my view, I did not dare return to the apartment, which I inhabited but felt impelled to hurry on. Although drenched by the rain which poured from a black and comfort lis sky, I continued walking in this manner for some time, endeavoring by bodily exercise to ease the load that weighed upon my mind. I traversed the streets without any clear conception of where I was or what I was doing, my heart palpitating in the sickness of fear. and I hurried on with a regular steps, not daring to look about me like one who, on a lonely road death walk in fear and dread. Onda, having once turned around, walks on and turns no more his head because he knows a frightful fiend death close behind him. Tread Coleridge is ancient Mariner.