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“What do I know about love and pain? What does anybody know about love and pain? I don’t know the pain of birth, of the start of life. I don’t know the pain of death. I never will. I was created. From parts of people who know the pain of birth, of life, of death. Those that knew love. But I have no soul. The people who once owned my body parts did, they could feel love, but I cannot. My ‘father’ created me hundreds of years ago. His death that night the village found out haunts me to this day. Is that love? I am haunted by his death. All their deaths. By my life. Is that Love?”
Frank looked at the clock and knew it was time to prepare for the day. He put his journal away; he placed it in his drawer on top of his father’s journals; the ones that had all the notes that caused Frank’s existence. He slammed the door, a little hard, and locked the drawer. He looked in the mirror, his skin had a light green tint, but it was nothing a bit of make-up could not hide. He had gotten very good at hiding the color of his skin. It took a lot more time to hide his stitching, but he had taken to wear long sleeve shirts and pants no matter the temp; after all, he was room temperature. He was dead. With no circulating blood. No soul.
He didn’t have to hide his bolts too much anymore. Thankfully strange and exotic piercings are popular during this time, and most people see them as a piercing. They always asked if his favorite book is Frankenstein. Frank hated that book. It made his father and himself as monsters. Well, that night he was when they killed his father. He killed the village. Mary Shelley was the only survivor. She wrote their story. He should have killed her. But she was a young child. He couldn’t bring himself to kill the child. After all, the death he has caused, he still hasn’t ever killed a child. He never would.
He looked at the note that Cameron had left for him. Something about picking up milk for some meal he wanted made tonight. Well, Cameron can cook for himself. The boy king got on Frank’s nerves. But he would be lost without him, Lucas, and Drake. They all met a few hundred years ago. Well, he first met Cameron. He used to be Tutankhamen. Frank had been wondering around Europe, looking for a place to live, when he ran into him. He took pity on the monster and invited him to stay with him. Frank didn’t know what pride was then and jumped at the chance. He barely could speak at the time. However, with Cameron’s help, he became highly educated. He sighed. Sometimes the boy king got out of control, only one that could control him was Nefertiti; sadly she didn’t come around often. He actually got on well with the Great Royal Wife. Of course, the fact Nefertiti, who now goes as Naome, was his mother and an ancient ruler herself, it was no shock she could reign in her son.
Education their path to living in mainstream America; moving here may not have been the best idea. Many people are too curious about newcomers, but on a college campus the majority of people are new, so it was easy to come up with a generic story to tell them about where they were from. Frank looked at himself in the mirror, his green skin now covered, and he was set to go about his day. But he was still upset, as he was every morning, but before he could be buried in his thoughts a thud brought back to life.
He saw Tony’s truck outside and remembered that Drake had a party last night. Frank found it easy, too easy most of the time, to turn a blind side to Drake’s parties. But what do you expect from a soulless creature? Of course, without Tony and Bo; they would never be able to live their half way normal undead lives. Tony, Bo, and many others make their lives almost seamless. If it wasn’t for the rash of bodies after they entered town or left town it was almost easy to forget they were monsters. Frank stood up and grabbed his books, took one last look in the mirror and left.
Lucas looked up. “Hey, man, the full moon is in a couple of days. I suggest staying in man.”
“Of course, Luc. Don’t get shot this time. I may have learned medicine and have my MD but patching you up isn’t something I enjoy doing.” He moved to the fridge to start breakfast.
“Funny you took after your creator.”
“I was called Frankenstein’s Monster, Luc. Victor Frankenstein created me. I couldn’t take his last name because of the taboo and that blasted book, but I could take Frank. It is all I really understood anyway when Cameron found me.”
“Hey I get it, don’t worry. Hey, Darin is going to be moving in next week.”
“Darin?” He looked up from where he was cutting bacon.
“Dorian. He is Darin Black now instead of Dorian Gray. Seriously, he can annoy me at times with his name changes.”
“He fix that little problem he had of half his face turning into a skeleton?”
“Sorta. Once a month under the new moon he will have to deal with it. No big. We all have our issues with the things that go bump in the night.” Lucas laughed at his own poor joke.
Frank rolled his eyes as he flipped the eggs. “Seriously, centuries later and your bad jokes have gotten no better.”
Lucas laughed. “I am funny as hell. You are just envious. I will talk to you later, monster man!” He got up and ran out the door.
Frank moved to finish his breakfast and then went to class. He was set to be a classic literature major this time around. He hadn’t had a chance to look at the syllabus, just grabbed the bundle at the bookstore. He left for his first cclassintroduction to classic lit. Oh, so fun. He was around when all these books were written. Hell, he knew most of the writers! He moved and sat down in a middle seat. Middle seat dwellers always had less attention. He saw the teacher walk in. She reminded him of somebody. But he couldn’t place who; well that would bother him all flipping day.
“Hello class! My name is Professor Mary Sheldon! We are going to start with the book that got me into classic lit! Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein!”
Frank groaned. Not again! He couldn’t take that bloody book again. He would just pull out a damn paper he wrote and turn it. He should have killed the kid, or at least taken it and raised it so that blasted book that painted him in such an unpleasant light never existed.
The professor looked at him. “Something wrong with the book choice, Mr…” She waited.
“Victorson. Frank Victorson.” Frank answer. “And everybody forces us to read this from Middle School on. And everybody has the same thoughts. The monster was at fault and had to be destroyed. So killing Viktor Frankenstein and his creation were the right things to do. And it shocked them that the monster lashed out and destroyed and killed the people of the village.”
Mary raised an eyebrow. “And you have a different viewpoint, Mr. Victorson?”
“Stay after class.” She stated and then started her lecture.
Frank waited and at the end of class stood there. “Well, Professor?”
“I don’t really like your attitude about a great novel!”
“You don’t have to. You just have to grade me fairly on the work I do. Now if you excuse me, I have to get to my next class.” Frank stated.
“I am going to ask you to keep an open mind about this novel. It really is a piece of history.” Sheldon stated.
“I will not change my stance.” Frank left then.
Over the next month, as they broke down Mary Shelley’s lies of that night, Frank couldn’t help but feel as if Sheldon was stalking him. He was finding her everywhere, from his math classes, to outside his house, to the restaurants he went to with the guys. He was sitting with the guys at Morgan’s (pretty much the only place they went) and told them. “Seriously, my professor is stalking me!”
“Dude maybe she has a thing for students. Talk her up.” Lucas stated as he smacked his lips at his ‘mooing’ steak. “God, Morgan knows how to make a steak!”
“Considering how many ‘dogs’ she gets in here, I would hope she could make a steak.” Drake sneered.
“Oh, come on Drakey! Lighten up! Life is good!” Lucas held up his beer.
“We are dead Luc.” Frank still tapped his beer to Lucas’, “and we tend to be the monsters.”
“Monsters! We are gods!” Cameron laughed. “I mean, we live forever! We have money, power, looks, and we are the envy of men of campus!”
Frank rolled his eyes. “Yes Boy King, we get it. Maybe some of us didn’t want this?”
“What did you want, Frankie?” Cameron sneered. “You wouldn’t have gotten life without being created!”
Frank growled. “I may not have been born but even a ‘monster’,” he spat the words, “like me has wants.”
“Like what kids? A wifey?” Cameron rolled his eyes.
“I can’t have kids, but I wouldn’t mind someone to spend my undead life with. Don’t you want someone?”
“Nah. I am good. They would get on my nerves after too long.” Cameron flirted with the waitress across the room.
“Luc?” Frank looked to his friend, his best really.
“Yeah, wolves mate for life. And it is for life. So right now I have to be very sure before I bring someone into this life, Frank. But I get you.”
Drake sighed. “I don’t want to damn anybody to this life.”
“Please, at least you haven’t evolved into an Incubus yet!” Lucas laughed.
“Oh, but won’t that be fun when he does! Think about it! We can have orgies on Halloween! And all those other holidays!” Cameron laughed as he drained his beer.
“Seriously Boy King, you need to stop thinking with your smaller head.” Frank stated and rolled his eyes.
“Ah, but brother sex, drugs and rock n roll!” Cameron cheered and signaled the waitress for another beer.
The men rolled their eyes at the Boy King but toasted and continued their meal.
Frank was leaving with Lucas and pointed out a woman following them. “See Luc, behind us.” He whispered below human hearing.
Lucas stretched and turned his head to see her. “Man, she looks familiar.”
“Yeah she reminds me of somebody too. But I can’t quite grip the memory.”
“Spooky man; especially with what your maker did with your brain. Some of the best of your time’s smartest minds.”
“Yeah. Let’s go, I do have a paper to turn in on my supposed badass self.” Frank laughed and clapped Lucas on the back.
Lucas laughed. “For a soulless creature you are at least a decent monster. I got class tomorrow too.”
Frank turned in his paper; arguing that the monster wasn’t a monster. Humans were the veritable monster that night and the monster couldn’t kill the child because even soulless he had somewhat of a conscience. That humanity is the veritable monsters in the book; but written to view them as the heroes. After all, only one moment in time can change a hero to a villain and a villain to a hero.
The next week Mary Sheldon called out as he was leaving. “Mr. Victorson! Stay back, please.”
Frank waited and watched her lock the door. “Well, Professor, what do you want?”
Mary walked over to her desk and picked up a knife. “My ancestor was Mary Shelly. She has a picture of the monster that killed her family.” She slapped a photo up on her board. “Funny how if you add a bit of make-up it looks like you.”
“Oh please; you believe in immortality, little girl?” Frank sneered.
“I believe in monsters. And I heard from you and your little friends on how you were built. That you creator, that Frankenstein killed the brightest of my ancestor’s time! A monster ripped apart my ancestors! Left my many great-grandmother to die!” She brought out a knife and tried to stab Frank.
Frank sneered as the knife entered his chest. He grabbed the wrist of the woman. “Wrong move, little girl! I am already dead. And they were already dead when he took their parts. You can’t kill the dead.” He whispered as he grabbed and pulled; ripping her arm off. He allowed her a moment to scream. He then took his large hand and wrapped it around her throat. “Good bye Miss Shelley.” And ripped out her throat; dropping it on the ground. He listened to her gurgle her last breaths.
He moved to leave and place a call to Tony when he heard a faint crying. He turned and sneered at the bleeding body. He bent under the desk; there was a babe. Barely a few months old. He looked at the tiny thing that looked at him with eyes as green as his skin. He sighed and picked up the phone. “Tony; Classic Lit Hall. Body. Full clean up…” He paused for a moment. “That is it, Tony.” His choice made. He hung up to place another call. “Bo…” He sighed. “I need to make a kid mine…” Frank smirked. A child. One to make immortal and be his child. After all, there were ways to make children immortal. They would grow until they were sixteen through twenty-one; then stop aging. Of course the ritual that Frank had in mind needed the heart of fifty new mothers and twenty five nuns; but a small price to pay for his child’s immortal life. A trip to the closest major city was in order.