Narrative Essay On Frankenstein

Scanning my mind and listening to see what the creature could be, an upright being without wings, two arms, two legs, but I wondered why it could not communicate with me. Why was is not speaking English ? At first, I considered the creature had wings because he was elevated about a foot taller than me. But when the creature came closer it was becoming desperate annoying summoning our attention. I'm becoming suspicious of the creature. My thoughts pending on reality first, since I come upon strange and unusual things without trying.

“No human being could have passed a happier childhood than myself. My parents were possessed by the very spirit of kindness and indulgence. We felt that they were not the tyrants to rule our lot according to their caprice, but the agents and creators of all the many delights which we enjoyed. When I mingled with other families I distinctly discerned how peculiarly fortunate my lot was, and gratitude assisted the development of filial love.”

In the book Frankenstein by Mary Shelly, we discover that the search for now knowledge has a good and a bad side. Suffering is something we all go through at some point. We try to avoid it but our search for knowledge will always lead to suffering. In Frankenstein Victor had set out on a search for knowledge, he was relentless. His search consumed all his time, destroyed relationships, and lead to the death of not only himself but his friends and family. All of those negative effects originated from the monster Victor had created on his search for knowledge. Although Victor may have achieved his end goal, at what cost did this come to? Victor’s search

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is a Narrative which tells of Victor Frankenstein and his inhuman creation which he calls, a “wretch.” She writes entirely the book in modern english, which suits the setting and time frame of the story. Shelly utilizes approximately five people to narrate her book. The letters in the first twenty-five pages and a majority of Frankenstein is narrated by Robert Walton. Chapters six through eight, through letters, are mainly narrated by Elizabeth Lavenza and Alphonse Frankenstein. Chapters eleven through eighteen are composed of Frankenstein 's creation narrating his own story, and of Frankenstein speaking very little. Chapter eighteen through the closing of the book is narrated by Victor Frankenstein as he tells

"Do you think, Victor," said he, "that I do not suffer also? No one could love a child more than I loved your brother" (tears came into his eyes as he spoke); "but is it not a duty to the survivors, that we should refrain from augmenting their unhappiness by an appearance of immoderate grief? It is also a duty owed to yourself; for excessive sorrow prevents improvement or enjoyment, or even the discharge of daily usefulness, without which no man is fit for society." (78)

There's a creature looming in front of you with blood red eyes and teeth the size of butcher knives.

"I'm fine baby, it was you I was worried about." With his arms on her shoulders, Richard peered into Lexi's eyes, and gritted his teeth at the tears that dripped down his cheeks. What happened to her whilst he'd been fucking around, waiting for darkness to come?" Now wasn't the time to ask, and although a rage, directed at Karl Williams, exacerbated by the memories of his own treatment at the hands of the many many years ago, consumed him, and led to the thought of , despited his questions and fears, of streaming through the closed door, and confronting him and Blair Huntington to demand their freedom. However, common-sense overrode emotions and with Lexi clutching on to his hand, he wiped a tear gently from her cheek, and followed her to the

She dropped me off at my car. Then my conscience was getting to me, I was beginning to feel fear. “I knew then what I had done. I had killed a man. I had killed a man to get a woman. I had done all that for her, I never wanted to see her again as long as I lived” (p.54). But after you came into my office that day to tell me what your gut was feeling the same feeling you had after your mother passed away. I realized I had done this for money and greed. “I had killed a man, for money and a woman” (p.80). I knew she was a killer then, and she had just used me to get what she wanted. I felt compassion for you then, for what you had gone through with your mother’s death and now with what I had done to you. I thought about you Lola and I knew I was in love with you. But for now I had to tolerate Phyllis. “She called me about half a dozen times…I felt sick the minute I heard her voice” (p.81). I knew if I left Phyllis she would either kill me or confess everything to the police and blame it all on me the

My throat tightened when I thought of Margaret now, the pain she had been through, how I had helped her heal, but how Andrés had more. Frank’s mouth hung open, his eyebrows raised, his comment justified in his world. I stepped towards Frank and pushed my index finger into his hard chest.

“W-why didn’t you say something?” Clawdeen asked, blinking back some hot tears she felt welling up.

"In the distant future, you were chosen to visit another planet. On this planet you have discovered a new organism (plant or animal whatever you want). Your job is to return to Earth and give supportive evidence that your organism is living."

The story of Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley starts off with Robert Walton writing a letter to his sister (Mrs. Saville) who lives in England. He is the captain of a ship and the book is outlined by series of letters as well as narrated parts too. His ship is headed to the North Pole and lots of his letters describe how dangerous his trip is as well as what he is up to at the time. However, the book is narrated by Victor Frankenstein who is Genevese and born into a nice family.

Blaize panted and took a shaky step back. Blood dripped onto the floor in thick, heavy splatters. The man in front of him was past the point of screaming, his voice hoarse and fractured, with tears and blood running in rivulets down his contorted face. But Blaize wasn’t done yet. The thick pools of blood spilled on his lap weren’t enough. There was a deep, cavernous hunger that rose in Blaize, that sent heat rushing through every vein in his body. He grabbed Lawrence’s chin /hard/, pulling him so that the pathetic man looked him in the eyes. Blaize chuckled. Those pretty eyes looked so /scared/, shaking and filled with tears.

Anticipation brought a fever, a hot sweat to his face, my neck, and my hands trembled. I saw her as she turned into the alley. Puddles, slime and the pungent smell of rotting garbage filled the narrow walkway. I moved quickly, was almost within reach of her but she turned. Her eyebrows arched; lips opened. Screams filled my ears. I plunged forward, the knife awkward in my hand. Terror, stared at me, strengthened my arm; my fury drove the knife that slashed.

I turned to see Heath, his smile more strained than what I remember. Although, I barely remember anything these days.His hands grip strongly onto my arm and pull me rather forcefully inside, his breath coming out in gasps.‘You didn’t tell me it was one year. Is that why Clarice is here?’ he said, his voice echoing in the room. I opened my mouth to speak, but he waved me away, his tone growing.‘Is that why she is here? So you two can play detective in finding out…’ his hands suddenly beat down on top of the table, forming a drum roll. His face turned into a spiteful sneer. ’Who murdered Evangeline and Carter Elswood? Because if that’s what you’re doing, stop. It’s been a year, and no one is closer to finding out who murdered them. So quit playing detective’ By now tears were forming in my large blue eyes, falling onto the shag carpet. He ignored them as he spits out his final words, ‘Because you once told me that seeking what is the truth is not seeking what is desirable.’ With a toss of his dark hair, he stomped out of the room, his footsteps shaking the house like a