(this prose I wrote because I enjoy Mary Shelley’s story of her Prometheus. This is entirely inspired by her brilliant novel, FRANKENSTEIN (1818)).
After a few months I was engaged in preparing a coffin, which I thought sufficient to the purpose. I accordingly measured out the requisite quantity of sand and put it into a basin of warm water, which was put over the face of the body. After waiting some time, I tried again, but the body did not revive. Then I gave it up, saying, “Let it rest in peace, it will not revive.”
But when the time came for another trial, I took the body, and with great care mixed in the required quantity of the water, and applied it to the face. The eyes opened, the tongue moved, the whole being awoke. I was not surprised at this sudden awakening, but I did not expect to have to exert myself so much. I was prepared for some short revival, which might be followed by the same rest. But the effect was as if the body had been regenerated. The next trial was to let it rest for three hours, and after this I put it into the water, and applied it to the face. This time the soul came to life, and in three hours had recovered from its death-like slumber. I was now satisfied that the original body was to be replaced by one animated with life.
It was difficult to determine the right place for this purpose, as it required a considerable amount of money. I took my time about it, and was undecided about a very large house, which was then occupied by my father. He had a very long-winded son, who lived in a small, close, flat, close, and then finally to a close, which was then occupied by a small man, a cook, and a postman. They were always at home, and their mere existence irritated me, as I had to listen to them every moment of the day. The money I had saved, and the rest of my money, were now spent in purchasing the casket.
I was delighted to find a servant, an old woman, who had charge of my rooms, and I gave her a very small sum, as I thought she would like it.
She, on her part, seemed to be so happy at the news of my action, that she called the cook, and ordered him to bring all the articles which she thought would go into a coffin. I then took a few precautions. I sent for a certain boy, who lived in the neighbourhood, and who was employed as a gardener, and had charge of the garden in which my father’s house stood. I told him that I wished to use his services in making a coffin, and gave him the necessary instructions.
I had a large store of furniture, and I employed the boy to pack it all up, and make a casket. I did not know what the thing was to be made of, and I had made a large mistake in the first attempt, so I decided to go and see my father, who had a shop in his house, where he sold, amongst other things, ironmongery.
When I arrived, he said, “I have a coffin to make for you, but it is quite impossible to make a casket out of iron.”
“What is the matter with it?” I asked.
“The joints are too weak. You must have something more strong.”
“Then,” I said, “give me something more strong.”
“The best I can give you is some wood,” he said.
“Wood!” I exclaimed. “I have only one piece of wood in the whole house, and it is too thick.”
“It will do,” he said.
“But I have a great store of iron.”
“Yes, but you will have to get it in a different shape.”
“Then give me a casket.”
“No,” he said, “you must make your own.”
“Then,” I said, “I must make a casket.”
“You must not,” he said, “for it will be very difficult.”
“I must,” I said, “for my life is in it.”
“I cannot let you make it.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because,” he said, “it will take you a long time to make it.”
“I will,” I said, “and then you must give me the money to buy the wood.”
“No,” he said, “I cannot.”
“Then,” I said, “I will go to my father, and he will give me the money.”
“No,” he said, “for it will cost you more than you can afford.”
“But I must,” I said, “for my life is in it.”
THE AWAKEN
The coffin was finally complete, a testament to my relentless pursuit and the silent accomplices who unknowingly aided me. It stood in the dimly lit basement, a grotesque monument to my obsession. The wood gleamed with an eerie sheen, as if anticipating the life it was about to cradle.
With trembling hands, I lifted the lifeless body and gently placed it inside the coffin. My heart raced with a mixture of dread and exhilaration. This was the moment I had been striving for—a moment that could redefine the boundaries of life and death.
I carefully closed the lid, sealing the body within. The air in the basement grew thick with anticipation. I took a deep breath and began the final phase of my experiment. I connected the electrodes to the casket, ensuring every wire was perfectly in place. The generator hummed to life, its low vibration echoing through the room.
I had acquired a rare chemical compound, rumored to enhance cellular regeneration, from a clandestine source. The vial of luminescent blue liquid seemed to pulsate with a life of its own. I injected it into the veins of the deceased, watching as it spread through the body, infusing it with an otherworldly glow.
The moment had arrived. I activated the generator, sending a surge of electricity through the body. The room filled with the crackling sound of energy, and the casket shook violently. I watched in breathless anticipation as the body convulsed, every muscle twitching under the electric current.
Minutes felt like hours as I observed the transformation. The blue glow intensified, spreading throughout the body. Then, suddenly, the convulsions ceased. Silence fell over the basement, broken only by the fading hum of the generator.
I approached the coffin with cautious hope. Slowly, I lifted the lid. The body lay still, the blue glow dimming. My heart sank, and despair began to creep in. Had all my efforts been in vain?
Then, a miracle. The fingers twitched, followed by a slight movement of the arm. The eyes fluttered open, revealing a pair of piercing, luminous blue orbs. The once lifeless body now exuded an aura of vitality, a testament to my success.
“Can you hear me?” I whispered, my voice trembling.
The being’s eyes focused on me, and it nodded slowly. My heart swelled with triumph. I had done it. I had conquered death.
But as I looked into those unearthly eyes, a chilling realization began to dawn. This was not merely a resurrection. This was something entirely new, something beyond my comprehension.
The creature sat up, its movements fluid yet disconcertingly mechanical. It regarded me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. I had given it life, but what kind of life had I created?
“Who… am I?” the creature asked, its voice a haunting blend of human and machine.
“You are my creation,” I replied, struggling to mask my unease. “You are a new beginning.”
The creature tilted its head, processing my words. “What is my purpose?”
I hesitated. In my quest to conquer death, I had not considered the implications of this new existence. “To live,” I finally said. “To experience the world and discover your own path.”
The creature stood, its movements growing more natural with each passing second. It looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and something else—something I could not quite identify.
“And you?” it asked. “What is your purpose?”
I was taken aback by the question. “I am your creator. My purpose was to bring you to life.”
The creature nodded, but its eyes never left mine. “Then we are both searching for our purpose.”
With those words, it began to walk towards the stairs, leaving the basement and the confines of its wooden cradle. I followed, my mind racing with questions and fears. What had I unleashed upon the world? And what would become of us both in this new reality we had forged?
As we emerged into the light of the outside world, I realized that my journey was far from over. It had only just begun.
:: 04.23.2021 ::
:: 06122024 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 