Frankenstein's 'Monster': A Narrative Fiction

"Yes, alpha, have a safe trip.” I hanged up the phone. After hearing about the girl, I was antsy throughout my whole meeting. My wolf wanted to go home right aways so as soon as the conference was done I made it back to my territory. When I reached the pack house everybody was outside having a cookout. The kids were playing while the grownups watched over them.

An eerie howl fills the air; it bellows over the darkened valley floor. A majestic show of fur and fang dance behind a herd of deer leaping through blanketed snow. Within a second, gunshots echo; and a fallen beauty lays unmoving, painting the snow beneath a deep red. In the past, with little understanding and an abundance of anger, humans in North America have caused much change to the gray wolf’s life. Alterations in habitat, behavior, diet, and human measures for control have created a multitude of hardships for the gray wolf population.

The wolf decides to would

The sound of footsteps close by launched me back into consciousness, and I trembled in the darkness. Then I heard Cotton whisper, "Aiden come out." Filled with relief I sighed, stuck my head out, and crawled the rest of the way out of the hole. I looked around, wincing in the moonlight. Then I saw the white wolf with the light-blue eyes standing with the jeweled scepter in his mouth. Cotton and a pack of seven wolves were behind him. The large wolf limped over closer to me. "Are you all right?" he said.

Lopez’s novel immediately tosses the reader into a world made only for wolves and their prey. Stunning images complement his words and add a unique flavor to his work. Ranging from scientific explanations of the wolf’s’ adaptability to its love and protection of the pack, this work goes into

I lay low to the ground, and quickly make my way across the moonlight stretch of grass. Looking back, I can see the black suited wolf has rounded the corner, and has also taken up whistling a jaunty tune. Sighing, I reach the forest’s

However, when he was about to return with his owners, I started to persecute him. I wouldn’t let my prey run away. One of the men tried to rescue his dog. He had a gun, yet he died just like his dog. The other man tried to keep himself safe. He made a campfire, and every time we came closer, he defended himself with firebrands. We ate his last two dogs, and left him alone. Another problem arose; old One Eye, Gray wolf and a three-year-old wolf were courting me. I was irritated by their constant fights for gaining my appreciation. The only thing I was interested in was finding food. The famine was terrible; each day we grew weaker. Fortunately, we found a big bull and kill it. The wolf-pack began to separate. At last we remained four wolves: One Eye, Gray wolf, three-year-old and me. The three male ones went in a battle against one another to prove their love for me; One Eye was the winner. I became a gentle mate. We continued our journey; I was determined to find a secure place for giving birth. While travelling, an accident occurred: One Eye ripped down one side of my muzzle when we were trying to get a rabbit that was hanging in the air. I was so furious I snarled at him every time he came too

These examples outlined above have shown that the dire wolf has maintained its fascination for human beings long after its extinction. Its combination of force, cruelty and cunning, along with enormous size, and tendency to roam in packs serve as an example of power even in very harsh conditions. It has connotations of majesty, and also cruelty, especially when dealing out justice and revenge. Even in the twenty first century it has the power to cast fear into our modern imagination.

The wolf's blue eyes glow in the darkness, and he sobs, pounding the ground and screaming. He’s just as beautiful as he was the day he broke Stiles’ heart.

Movement to Cassandra's left caught her attention and she froze. She slowly turned to get a better glimpse of it, and had to bite her tongue to keep from gasping. She was not a stone’s throw away from the largest wolf she'd ever seen. If stood on its hind legs, it would tower over Hector—the tallest man Cassandra knew. The wolf’s head would be level to her chest if she stood next to it. It had a thick, long coat that looked more golden than white in the sunlight falling through the leaves.

One night at camp, Buck hears “a long-drawn howl, like, yet unlike, any noise made by husky dog” (91). So, Buck crept closer to the woods and saw a “long, lean, timber wolf” (91). Since Buck was curious, he went into the woods and visited the wolf daily. They soon became friends. The timber wolf symbolized what Buck could be in the wilderness. Buck enjoys his company, and “he knew he was at last answering the call, running by the side of his wood brother toward the place from where the call surely came” (92). Buck felt that the wild was his calling. In the woods with this wolf, Buck felt at home. After meeting the timber wolf, Buck realized his purpose was to live in the wild and be savage. He was destined to be an undomesticated dog.

I huff, looking at myself in the mirror shrugging I walked over to my closet grabbing a fresh pair of clothes. The black ripped skinny jeans and the old baggy flannel was perfect for a little hunt in the woods today. I tie my combat boots and look myself in the mirror groaning at the state my hair was in. I brush my silver hair into a ponytail before grabbing my weapons and heading out. I decided on my crossbow and my knife to find me some dinner. I crouch down noticing some type of track on a dirt trail looking up seeing if there were more. I smirk the wolf I 've been tracking for days finally left me a way to track it I stood up

I run into the woods partly crying. I spot a wolf looking in the other direction. I slowly walk backwards to hid behind a tree. I take out my bow and arrow out. I quickly shoot it. That’s one thing I don’t like about hunting. When I look for the dead wolf, it’s not there.

It was a dark, gloomy day in the Lamar Valley. Sleet, trotting along slowly, came across the fence marking the exit of Yellowstone Park. He immediately backed away from it and started the way from which he came. All his life he was told to stay away from the fence. The wolves feared the fence for the fence showed the unknown. It was the fact that beyond the fence was unknown that they feared. Sleet, being a reddish, blackish wolf, was very curious about this fence. For there were stories of wolves who traveled beyond the fence, and never returned. They figured the wolves had been killed. But something about these stories confused him. How would they know that they never returned because they were killed? They could have still been alive and stayed past the fence because there was good! He erased this thought from his mind and continued on his way. Sleet was walking along slowly when he came across a fresh trail that sent his hair on his back bristling. He crouched low to the ground and showed his teeth. He was being watched. He saw gleaming eyes through the bushes surrounding him. He was trapped. Sleet growled menacingly. The wolf pack around him drew closer. He now knew that he was in danger. He submissively rolled onto his back with feet up above him in the air. This was embarrassing for him. He came from a bloodline of strong wolves who let nothing get in their way and who instead of gaining fear, they inflicted it upon others. Sleet, now rolling back onto his 4 feet,

“Mama Wolf, will you tell us a bedtime story?” asked Little Wolf, as Mama Wolf tucked him in with his brothers and sisters. The den was warm and snuggly, but Little Wolf wasn’t sleepy yet.