The Creature In Mary Shelley's Frankenstein

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creature stood before me, gnarling teeth, sharp enough to slice cleanly through my flesh. Skin, a sickish green, mounted with boils and sores, rough and jagged all over. Claws, double the size of the contorted figure, curled by it's side. The creature hunched over, as it were waiting to pounce any second, or maybe as if I was waiting for it to pounce. Now, I was more curious then frightful. My feet glued to the floor, my heart pounding heavily. I was to be a victim, slaughtered and eaten as the main course yet I still stood. The compelling need, to look the creature in the eye had taken over, and my chin lifted. Our eyes met, and my breath caught in my throat. My stomach churned, not at the sight of the horns that stretched from it's forehead,

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