Narrative Essay Frankenstein

In all of the thirteen years, not once did I believe that there was such things as monsters. Not the kind that live under your bed at least… But little did I know that the world is full of them. Monsters are all around us, disguised and camouflaged in the bodies of human beings. She’s the nice woman you pass and smile at walking down the street, and the busy man rushing to work on a Monday morning. Monsters cannot be detected with the naked eye. You have to get to know them and really observe the person before you can really tell if they’re a monster or not. I always imagined that you would know a monster when you saw one because they’d be extremely terrifying, and sometimes they are, but what surprised me the most is that I’ve been living with a monster my entire life and never had a clue.

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I never knew my father. I knew of him course, but whenever I asked my mom about it, the story was condensed to something along the lines of

I thought I was going to leave empty handed until I spotted the stack of boxes in the far left corner. There was a small wooden box on the top labeled David Walker with black sharpie. This is it. I thought. I sprinted out of the attic holding the box in one hand and the ladder in the other. Out of breath, I plopped down onto my bed, sitting with my legs crossed and the box out in front of me. Answers… Please give me answers. I thought as I opened the box. Inside held a picture of a man with dark skin and short black hair. I assumed this was my father. In his arms was my mother. They were both smiling uncontrollably as if it was the best day of their lives. What went wrong… I thought. Underneath was a black journal, tied shut with a thick string. I lifted it out of the box, untied the string, and began to read the