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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Gothic · #1673191
A Gothic horror story similar to 'Frankenstein'. I don't yet know whether I'll extend it.
It was a sombre, biting night. Snowflakes were drifting gently onto a December ground. My battered castle, standing atop a hill was lit by a lone beam of light shining through an arrow slit casement, illuminating the wall all the way down to the base of the stone turret I was working in. More turrets surrounded the first but they were all in disuse due to damage and collapse. I knew one was now home to a gathering of bats, hanging, suspended from the rafters watching and waiting as the world went by without them. Sometimes I could hear their piercing shrieks through the otherwise silent night air, but not tonight.

Tonight I was working in my chamber, a large circular room with a worn stairwell circling down one side. Ancient beams hung above, supporting the conical roof, which lay perpetually shrouded in darkness, a foreboding mystery above my head. The light’s source was a gold, tarnished candelabra, bearing five flickering candles on gradually melting wax. It held it aloft in my shaking hand as I surveyed the scene before me. A sturdy wooden table stood in the heart of the room and my creature lay, still and silent atop it.

He looked more animal than man. With an old pair of legs that I had torn from their dead owner’s body, many moons ago. It had been in the dead of night, not long after, that the arms and torso were sewn together. The mismatch of limbs made a closer resemblance to a werewolf, a fiend from a bedtime tale, than any man. After setting down my light by his shoulder I began working on the head, finishing the connection at the neck, joining the nerves and arteries that were still weeping a dark and putrid blood. I knew I was nearing completion and my heart raced with the excitement that I may soon see my beloved creation, my life’s great work, walk about the room as a living person. The thought filled me with a determination to get it finished, now.

As hours passed the frigid night bore wearily on and I shivered as the calm, white flakes continued to fall. I sewed up the final part of the neck under the chin with a flourish and stood back admiring my toils, my life’s labour. A smile spread greedily across my face, stretching the seldom-used muscles. He was a masterpiece. The stitches, in the now dim and flickering light, were barely visible and, as I pulled a rough woollen shirt over his head, he looked almost normal, almost - I could scarcely believe it - human. The pale skin was too small for the body and it was visibly stretched over the shining bones, the eyes were haunting with an evil stare and the mouth was parched and shrivelled, but for all of the faults, my hungry gaze saw only the shining switch that connected the Volta ray to the two electrodes positioned meticulously on either side of its scalp.

My hand shook as I brought it toward the small knob, it was so close, I could touch it, I could do it, I could finish it. As the switch was flicked and the circuit completed, I felt the power at my fingertips and the awesome possibilities of my work. There was no time to dwell however, as a great flash blinded the room and a bang erupted which reverberated off the heavy stone walls and knocked me to the hard floor. The electric current had started the brain; he had awoken.

I saw the stubby fingers twitch. I shrieked in my delight at the success, but my shrieks turned to horror as if my eyes had adjusted to light. A rotten smell, more powerful than I could have ever imagined, filled the chamber and the head and torso, slowly, oh so slowly, lifted and I finally saw the monster, that hideous monster, as it truly was.

Revulsion built up inside me as the awful thing heaved itself off the table and lumbered doggedly toward me. I could see its legs working hard, remembering what walking felt like and improving all the time. To my alarm and concern it was getting faster at it too.

         “STOP! Get back,” I cried in despair, but it didn’t heed to my command. I wasn’t even sure if it understood what I had said, but I ran, screaming in terror from the tower as my life’s work’s heavy footsteps followed behind. My pride and joy were no longer mine, they were in the brain that I myself had scavenged and restored. My greater speed took me further ahead and as the courtyard at the bottom of the turret came closer, I felt a wave of brisk, early morning air hit me full in the face. I felt suddenly cold and alone, trapped on this hill, miles from any semblance of civilisation.

As I turned at the foot of the staircase, the stone courtyard came into view, and in my excitement, I tripped and skidded on the newly formed ice, sprawling into the frosty air and landing heavily on the now white flagstones. With dismay, I turned over to see the beast, now silhouetted in the opening, raising its stolen arm.

The bats had been alarmed at the bang and yell but had nevertheless watched my plight with only mild interest, yet as the monstrous beast came into view they flew from their perches in alarm and circled it, eager and excited to see what this strange being was.

From my low position, I watched in amazement and wonder as the bats swooped gracefully down, bearing their leathery black bodies with thin, effective wings. I saw them land on the monster’s arms and it turned its head to look silently at each of them. The bats seemed, though surely they could not, to understand him and as the shroud of creatures covered him he suddenly appeared to me more human again and I realised with a dull sense of relief that his arms were but mere matchsticks. He couldn’t harm me. I was his master. I was in control.

         “Come along, you must come with me now,” I said as I got up and motioned back toward the steps. In expectancy, I walked forward and turned to see whether he had obeyed. To my disappointment, he had not. He still stood, staring intently into the bat’s shining eyes.

         “Come,” I ordered again, “you are mine. I created you.” Without warning, the bats rose as one and glided down the hill, keeping low to the ground and with definite purpose and intention.

         “You must come with me now, out of the cold.” Still he stood there, motionless, with snow beginning to build up on his head and arms. Finally, after a great pause and apparently with much deliberation and decision, he moved. He shifted very calmly and very determinedly toward me. Without warning, he stooped and lifted from the ground a lump of stone that had fallen, once upon a long forgotten time, from the turret. He rose again and I stood rooted to the spot with anticipation and a returning sense of unease. The stone was lifted easily into the air and nausea swept about me as I saw it come rushing toward my skull and knock me to the cold ground.

As consciousness slowly left me, I saw through half open eyelids as it moved away and lumbered after the bats, wailing out a cry in excitement that I could never forget. It was a hungry cry, an excited cry, a cry that smothered the night air and drifted back to me. It ran through my veins and my barely beating heart. It rushed into my head and it closed my eyes and left me in peace, lying on the snow-covered courtyard, alone, helpless.
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