Frankenstein-Personal Narrative

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Left alone, I laid on the freezing cold metal table. I could not feel anything. I slowly got off the table. Through a puddle, I saw my hideous reflection. Black lips and yellow skin, I saw the monster I was. I ran my fingers down my jagged, rough skin. Horrified of my own self, Iran out of the shack, and all the townsfolk screamed. They threw rocks at me as I tried to get away. They screamed," Get the guns," and I was frightened. I ran all the way to the forest, and the first thing that spotted my eye was this woman drowning. I grabbed her arm and put her on the sand. Her clothes were soaking wet. Through the corner of my eye, I saw a little child; he looked petrified. I grabbed him, and lifted him up. I was going to use him for help, but then he said the name Frankenstein and I snapped. I found out that Frankenstein was my creator a while ago. I saw his journal, and how he made me. Then, he abandoned me. He did not help or teach me. He left me on a metal table. I was scared and lonely because of him. That little boy was Frankenstein's little brother. I was vengeful, so vengeful that I murdered the child. I framed it on the woman who was drowning two seconds earlier then I ran to safety. …show more content…

I went over Frankenstein's notes; the more I read, the more I hated him. Whoever was there before I left plenty of supplies. The most important item that was left behind was a blanket. The temperature was freezing, so the cozy, soft blanket was warm. I knew I had to leave the shack soon, but I was illiterate, so I could not communicate with the villagers. I could read bits and bits of Frankenstein's journal, but I could not talk well. Soon, I decided I could not stay in this small shack where the cold wind could seeped through the cracks. It was time to meet my

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