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The Nightmare Of Frankenstein
The Legend Of Frankenstein, Book I
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ISBN-10: 1-77115-250-8
ISBN-13: 
Genre: Supernatural/Horror/Suspense/Thriller
eBook Length: 194 Pages
Published: June 2015

From inside the flap

Alone...
Hunted...
Hounded...
He will allow nothing to stop him.

In his quest to learn the secrets of his creation, the Monster of Frankenstein seeks out various eccentric scientists and mad doctors such as Adam Weishaupt—the founder of the Illuminati, the murderous duo of Burke and Hare, and Andrew Crosse, a real-life researcher who created life in his laboratory. Along the way, the Monster battles ghouls, witches, and mad scientists! See him captured by madmen and forced to battle other monsters in the arena of death! Read THE NIGHTMARE OF FRANKENSTEIN today!

The Nightmare Of Frankenstein (Excerpt)


Victor

In which a little boy learns to dream (1781-95)

What We Do For Friends

The Monster's story continues (1799-1803)

The Mentor

Return to Ingolstadt (1804-14)

The Return of the Illuminati

Weishaupt's legacy (1815-18)

Outcasts Together

Monsters, big and small (1818-19)

I Find Myself Famous

In which the Monster meets his creator (1823)

Bits and Pieces

Allied with a mad scientist (1827-28)

The Mad Woman of Rouen

Monster in the night (1830)

Mad Science

Creating life in a bottle (1837)

Mad Sorcery

In search of alchemy (1838-44)

The Collectors

The Arena of Death (1845)


VICTOR

Part 1-Children and Monsters

Light from a bed chamber window shined down upon an assortment of gears and springs and fine tools and a pair of small, busy hands. Sitting at an ornately carved table, a boy of almost eight years had taken apart an old, broken clock and used the various pieces to make something that would open and close when a wire was pulled. An even younger girl, with many golden curls, looked on in amazement, and laughed and clapped her hands.

The boy had assembled two or three such devices before, to the amusement of his family, at least when they could pull their attention away from his new baby brother. One of the contraptions could be wound up and jump, but it fell apart easily and had to be reassembled every time it was used. None of them did anything useful, but he wondered what he might construct if he could attach them all together. He considered asking Gerard, the old clockmaker in town, for his help or advice.

At that moment, their mother came in.

"Victor! Lizabetta!" speaking in French, which was the language of the household, she said, "It is time to come downstairs and meet our guests! Hurry, the coach has arrived."

The children were already dressed in their finery to meet their guests, so they merely raced one another down the stairs, much to the consternation of their mother and governess.

Outside, in the warm morning air of late spring, a coach had pulled up and a footman opened the door and lowered the step. Victor and Lizabetta came out front and stood with their mother and the servants, waiting to greet their guests. Victor's father had recently taken the position of a syndic of Geneva, but their campagne, or summer home, stood several miles outside the ancient city. Looming over the landscape in the misty west, the Jura Mountains appeared green and lush, and even the snowcap of Mont Blanc could be seen to the south, though half obscured.

Victor watched his mother embrace and kiss Madame Clerval of Geneva, whom he understood to be an old friend. Monsieur Clerval smiled and greeted the children, offering them each a morsel of chocolate. Victor and Lizabetta accepted and politely thanked him, Victor with a bow, and Lizabetta with a very proper curtsy.

But Victor was more interested in the third party who had exited the coach. He had been informed the Clervals had a son the same age as him, and since his family had been traveling throughout Europe most of his life, Victor had no real friends his own age.

"Hello," said the finely-attired boy in ascot and cut-away coat. Without waiting for an introduction, he presented himself. "My name is Henri."

"Welcome to our home, Henri. My name is Victor, and this is my cousin, Lizabetta Lavenza."

Lizabetta, being shy, stood behind Victor.

Henri frowned. "Why is her name Lavenza?"

"Henri!" said his father, "Don't be impertinent."

"Oh, but it is no offense, M. Clerval," said Victor's mother. "The boy is naturally curious."

"That was always her name," Victor explained. "She was adopted by my parents when they found her in Milan. Her own parents were dead by then."

"Children, we are going to inside to show the Clervals their rooms," said their mother, "Luncheon is in an hour. Until then, you may play."

"Come along, Henri," Victor said, "I will show you the grounds."

Victor and Henri went off down a path leading to a small stream to play before luncheon. After a moment, Lizabetta followed them.

"My father said your family has a barony." Henri said. "Is your father a baron?"

"Of course not," Victor answered. "There are no baronies in Switzerland. It is a republic."

"Oh," said Henri, sounding disappointed.

Before they came to the stream, Victor and Lizabetta showed Henri a massive oak which was the largest and oldest tree on the property. Holding hands, the three of them could not reach but halfway around the tree. Victor informed Henri that it was a wonderful tree to hide behind when playing hide-and-seek.

Then Victor showed Henri a beehive he had discovered a few days ago, and the boys watched the bees amongst the flowers from as close as they dared. Lizabetta, who had never been stung by a bee in her life, got no closer than shouting distance. Victor told Henri all he knew about bees, which was quite a bit.

"Bees are very intelligent, actually," he declared. "If people would organize their own cities so well as a beehive, there would be no rubbish or poor people and everyone would have enough food to eat."

Henri pondered this for a while. Lizabetta cried for them to come away before they were stung, which was obviously a fate worse than death.

Next, Victor showed Henri the stream where he would frequently cast a line and sometimes caught a fish. "Fish is my favorite dinner of all," he explained.

"Mine is roast beef," Henri said.

"Mine is chocolate," said Lizabetta, still licking her fingers. The boys laughed, and Lizabetta joined them in laughter, though she did not know what was so funny.

Talking of food made them all hungry, so after a midday meal of cheeses and bread and jam, the children explored the house. Henri stopped in the great hall where a large painting caught his attention. It showed a girl of no more than sixteen within a dark crypt, kneeling at a sarcophagus, her face buried in her hands. At the doorway of the crypt a smaller, silhouetted figure of a stout man stood, watching her.

"Who is that crying girl?" Henri asked.

"That is my mother when she first met my father." Victor explained. "She is crying because she is sad that her own father has gone to Heaven."

Next, Victor showed Henri the library, a large room with many volumes in several languages. Lizabetta sat in a great overstuffed chair which made her seem even tinier. But what caught Henri's eye was something very different.

"A chevalier!" he exclaimed. "Oh, he has a halberd!"

Victor looked up at the suit of armor. "Yes."

"I wish I could be a chevalier, and wear a suit of armor, and go jousting," said Henri. "That would be wonderful."

"You would look silly in a suit of armor," Victor said. In truth, he had never thought much about being a knight. "No one wears such things these days."

"This suit is not so very old." Henri declared, looking it over and noticing something on the side of the wooden base on which the suit of armor stood. "This plaque says 1723."

Victor had noticed the plaque before, which read, in full, "Voralberg & Sons of Valadilene, Fine Clocks and Novelties, AD 1723." He had never given it any particular thought before this, but now it made him wonder.

Victor stood up on the base and lifted the tassets as far as he could. Henri looked around back. By now, Lizabetta was fast asleep in the chair.

"There are steel rods inside the legs." Henri declared.

"Of course there are. That is the frame that holds it up."

"No! There are levers and gears and-Victor! This is not just a suit of armor!"

Looking inside, Victor noticed ratchets built into the elbows, and was annoyed that he had never noticed them before. He had to agree. "No, Henri. It is an automaton. It is a mechanical man."

"What does it do?"

"It has never done anything. It must be broken."

"Are you sure? Have you ever tried it? There is a hole back here; maybe you wind it up with a key. Maybe it can be fixed. If it were my automated chevalier, I would make sure it worked."

"Well, it doesn't." Victor said, annoyed, "If it could work, my father would have operated it for us. But I will ask him about it at dinner."


***