Frankenstein: The Storm

On my return, I found a letter from my father waiting for me.“My dear Victor,” it said, “William is dead! That sweet child, whose smiles warmed my heart, has been murdered.”On a warm May evening, my father wrote, William had run off to hide during a game, and early the next morning they found him lying in the grass, lifeless.

That evening Elizabeth had let him wear a small portrait of our mother, and now the portrait was gone; my father believed it had tempted the murderer.“Come home, Victor,” the letter ended. “Only you can comfort Elizabeth, who blames herself.”I set off for Geneva at once, but it was night when I arrived, and the gates of the city were already shut.

So I crossed the lake in a boat to visit the place where William had died, and as I landed, a terrible storm broke over the mountains.Lightning lit up the peaks of the Alps, and I cried out, “William, dear angel! This is your funeral!”Suddenly a flash of lightning showed me a figure behind a clump of trees: a huge shape, far too large to be human.

I knew it at once — it was the creature, the filthy demon to whom I had given life.Could he be the murderer of my brother? The moment the thought entered my mind, I knew it was true.The figure passed me quickly, climbed the steep mountainside in a moment, and disappeared into the dark.

I stood there all night in the cold rain, thinking that I had set loose into the world a creature that delighted in murder.I thought of telling everyone, but who would believe such a story? They would think I was mad.In the morning I hurried home, where my brother Ernest greeted me with tears.

“Victor, they have found the murderer,” he said. “It is Justine!”The missing portrait had been found in her pocket, and though she was gentle and loved us all, everyone now believed she was guilty.“She is innocent!” I cried, but I could not tell them who the real murderer was.