Monster Monologue

“My dear creator, please make me a companion! I live my life hiding in the shadows, all alone. Whenever a person sees me, they shriek with fear from seeing such a horrendous face and then run away as if they are in danger. Make me a companion as hideous as I am, and I promise that I will never bother you nor hurt anyone ever again. I will let you and everyone else be. Just please, give me a companion to spend the rest of my life with. So I can be happy and feel loved like a normal person. Please, master. Give me this one favor, for you do owe it to me for making me like this in the first place.”

I begged him, my creator. I stared at him, pleading with my eyes as I waited for a response. His face was expressionless. Not a line by his mouth,
I kept looking at him, but he never looked at me. He looked down and took a deep breath. He was nervous.

“But regardless of my sympathy for you, I cannot, will not, put another monster on this planet. Too many people, people that I cared about, have died by your filthy hands and I have to deal with that guilt for the rest of my life.”

“How dare you deny me this request. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be on this Earth living my life all alone in the shadows, you owe me-”
“I owe you nothing!” He screamed. Even I was taken aback by this. He seemed almost as infuriated as I was. “ I owe you. Nothing,” he whispered. “You are the one that has murdered. I gave you life and you are the one taking lives away. I do not care that you have to hide, you should be hidden anyway. You shouldn’t be near anyone for you are not deserving of companionship. People may only run away because of your appearance but it’s just as well for you are an evil creature, inside and out. I will live the rest of my life knowing that I tainted the name Victor Frankenstein by creating such an immoral creature. I will not live with the guilt of creating another monster, nor will I live with the guilt of you blaming me for living
The times that I have been so-called “caught,” those were unintentional murders.

I’m not proud of what I’ve done, most certainly not. After the people were dead, I would look at what I had just done. Bodies brutally beaten, bones broken, attractive faces that were no longer recognizable. I felt complete shame. I would run away and hide again behind tree. For a moment, I no longer hated my creator. I hated myself. I would run my fists right against the trees and let out a howl. After my fit of anger, I’d slide down beside the tree, and begin to cry. A never-ending flow of tears running down my face. Who would’ve thought, that a beast like me would feel shame and melancholy?

After a few days, my gloom would pass and I would feel nothing but hatred towards him, Dr. Frankenstein. Then I would kill someone(s) to let out some anger, and then the whole cycle would start all over