Free Frankenstein Theory by Jack Wallen

down to see scarlet polka-dots littering the pristine marble. From every direction, thunder crashed. The barren landscape lit up to reveal thousands of corpses, standing with their arms reaching toward me. A chorus of moans sang out – a devil-made choir to sing me to the grave.
    Another crash of thunder shattered the moment and found me lying in a pool of sweat beside my lovely wife. I sat up, careful not to expose Elizabeth to the chilled air of night. The soft caress of her breath eased my raging nerves.
    Carefully, I slipped from the bed and tiptoed from the room. As I was about to descend the grand staircase, a voice stopped me short.
    “ Can’t sleep, Victor?”
    My mother. She and I had always shared the same proclivity for nature at her angriest.
    “ I cannot,” I answered calmly. With Mother, I had to tread lightly. The woman had an uncanny way with reading my moods and mind.
    “ This has been the third night with no respite from the storms.” She sidled up to me and snaked her arm around mine. “I quite like it.”
    “ As do I, Mother.”
    “ Your father and I used to watch the storms travel across the town from the north balcony. I always loved that about him…that nature didn’t frighten the man. In the face of danger, he was without fear.”
    I gave Mother’s arm a squeeze. “I always envied him that quality.”
    She offered a light laugh. “Tosh, Victor. You’ve perfectly mimicked that quality since you were old enough to stand. Nothing frightened you. It’s what enabled you to stand by your father’s side while he worked. The foul workings of the human machine were no match for your constitution.” The slightest lilting giggle rose from Mother’s lips. “We used to call you ‘Iron Gut’ when you weren’t around.”
    I shared the laugh. The idea that Mother and Father had a secret nickname for me seemed somehow to fill me with joy. All these years, I had felt so insignificant to both my parents. Discovering that I was wrong might well overtake the joy of reanimating a corpse.
    I leaned my head into Mother’s and whispered, “I love you, Mother.”
    “ And I you, son.”
    A fading rumble of thunder indicated the evening’s show was about to end.
    Mother patted me on the hand, kissed me on the cheek. “You’re so much like your father.”
    My heart skipped. Was it possible she knew I’d found my father’s theory? “How so, Mother?”
    “ Your curiosity and enthusiasm for knowledge. You and he had the same drive. Nothing stood in that man’s way.” She turned to face me. A dim flash of lightning painted concern across her face. “Understand, Victor, that drive was nearly the end of our marriage. After a time, your father’s first love was his work. Do not let that befall you and Elizabeth.”
    I nodded, simply and slowly. “Mother, of all the things I could possibly promise, that I can assure you will never happen. Elizabeth is at the very heart of all things for me.”
    Mother blinked, her lips tightening. “Your father said those very words, Victor.” She padded off to her quarters to leave me with dangerous thoughts racing about my mind. The storm had abated, the castle fallen into an all-too-familiar solemnity. The words, spoken from wiser lips than mine, rang in my ears.
    You’re so much like your father .
    My mind and heart fell into an immediate war. As a child, the Baron was my hero, a god among mortals. Watching the man fall prey to madness was a chisel to my heart. Following in his footsteps was the only thing that inched me forward, most days. And now that I’d scratched the surface of his brilliance, all I wanted was to peel away the layers to reach some hidden truth that may or may not even have existed. This wicked thirst to play creator could very well mark the beginning of my own descent into madness.
    I did not care. There was but one path for me to follow. That path led directly into the heart of a great unknown which, once claimed, would solidify my place