This is a probable extension to the great story of 'Frankenstein' authored by Mary Shelley. I drafted this for an assignment back in school. It is recommended that you read the book before reading the following story.
Remember that the story is narrated by Captain Robert Walton to his sister, Margaret, in writing.
What happens at the end:
Frankenstein's monster sets off on a raft for the North where, he says, he 'will light his funeral pyre'. Captain Robert Walton watches as the monster disappears into the horizon.
"He sprang from the cabin window as he said this, upon the ice raft, which lay close to the vessel. He was soon borne away by the waves and lost in the darkness and distance."
I watched the shadowy outline of the creature as it faded into rolling fog. Waves lashed and tore, the wind screeched. I stood there motionless, clenching fists. For a few moments, I felt the gloom that revolved around the creature's life. Somehow, I could empathise with him. I could sense the sorrow that he felt in isolation from society. The loneliness, yes, the loneliness had affected his mind. It had made him mad. The mind had then flown into a rage. This initiated the most dangerous feeling in his mind; revenge.
The circumstances were to blame, partly. The creature had done nothing but copy human behaviour. He found his emotions too wild to tame. He was, what we could term, a superhuman. He could have been beneficial to society. He could have been of great advantage. However, he had chosen to let his mind take control of him. Revenge was what he sought. And when he got it, he put an end to the whole affair. I sighed and looked at the faded horizon again. He had gone, forever. Sad. Only if he could... no use pondering over the matter anymore, right? He was evil after all. He started out as innocent but later, he had seen seen evil, learnt being evil, trained at being evil, and mastered being evil.
I shifted my gaze from the window to the man who lay in the cabin bed. He, I thought, was the one who had suffered the most. He was a man who undergone great misery, a man who had lost his loved ones, and a man who had been drawn into the sufferings of his own creation. Sufferings.
Gradually, the pity that I had for the creature was transformed into a feeling of hatred.
Victor Frankenstein lay still, in front of me, with his eyes closed. What he thought now, I know not. Whether he felt angry at the monster, or was he relieved that his drastic creation was going to die; he could not convey it to me. He had entered another world, a world which would lend to him more kindness than the mortal earth of reality.
Ambition, or rather, the consequences of ambition had consumed him. Had he faltered somewhere in the process that he had been denied glory and provided with remorse instead?
I may never know.
A thousand pities for this man who had tolerated the miseries that hovered around him. The people who turned victims to the product of this ingenious brain. With these thoughts floating in my mind, I will drift off to sleep.
September 20
Today, I woke up from a pleasant dream of dear England. The houses, shops and most importantly, the people. They reminded me of the times we spent together in each other's company, Margaret.
As I rose from the bed, I felt a gush of warm, fresh air coming in through the window. The day was slightly warmer. I no longer felt the harsh cold.
I pictured the scene when we would have returned to England. We, tired and fatigued, would be welcomed bu our dear ones. They would be relieved to find us safe and sound. Later, we would narrate to them the incidents of the voyage, and the disastrous event that had occurred. Many would exaggerate, talk about events that happened nowhere but in their dreams. Thus, my crew would return with an air of relief. However, in the heart of their hearts, they would have made a reservation for cowardice.
I can hear shouts and laughter from the deck above. Now I shall ascend the ladder to be a part of their laughter and merriment.
Something has happened that might be of interest to you. When I went to the deck, i saw my crew enjoying themselves. Evidently, they were excited about returning to England.
The disaster had affected their minds. The curiosity and excitement for discovery that had been aroused in them had faded away. Victor had warned me of the wreck one has to face in pursuit of ambition. He had himself ruined his own life, and from experience, he had found it necessary to advise me on the matter. I glanced at my men again. We were turning back, they were rejoicing. Another mission seemed to have failed.
I used to ask myself the question, "Why is it that I fail in pursuing my goal?" My feeble friend had indirectly answered it, "You give up too easily."
Victor, a new found friend, had passed away. His voice echoed through my mind like the clanking of chains. Suddenly, the words came back to me, "I myself have been blasted by these hopes, yet another may succeed." It is only now that I realise its true meaning.
I addressed the crew in a commanding voice.
"Shame on you! At the beginning of the voyage we had promised each other that the voyage would satisfy our thirst for adventure. We would travel to discover something, to unveil something. This small obstacle comes in our way and we turn our backs on our mission! I call this a betrayal.You all have betrayed, betrayed your own heart, soul and conscience. Ambition is something that consumes you but if you satisfy it, you might succeed. Else you will fail, you won't be termed heroes, but will be called cowards instead.
Mates, I being the Captain of this ship command that the ship resume its journey to the North. It is up to you to decide whether its crew will accompany it or not."
Silence - dead silence. I pricked up my ears for the slightest response or sign of protest. To me it seemed that the world around me has paused. I waited, expecting an outburst of objections.
I heard a faint murmuring, "It will, we will!" And then, the words were echoed by the whole crew.
Well, sister, it seems I won't be coming soon to England after all. It is in our destiny to be kept apart for some more time. But in fate it is writ that I fulfil my ambition. Whether I am led to success or failure remains unknown to me. Take care of yourself. I will write to you from time to time. Farewell for now, my beloved sister!
Yours lovingly,
Robert Walton