Read Online HIGH STRANGENESS-Tales of the Macabre by Billie Sue Mosiman - Free Book Online
Authors: Billie Sue Mosiman
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of corporeality.
I hope the being does not find me sleeping, but I must rest now, and write more later when I know, beyond any doubt, I have done this good and righteous thing by coming to claim Frankenstein's world-shaking creation.
Your most devoted brother,
Robert
* * *
The first he knew of the commotion, one man was dead.
Walton rose from the robes covering him near the fire and shrieked along with his men, the sounds issuing from his mouth without volition, so great was his terror.
Out of the blackness of the cave's opening, back lit by a wide shaft of moonlight, stood the thing Walton feared and yet adored. Two of the men rushed toward the imposing figure, but the being brandished a length of raw corded wood that struck them on the heads, knocking them back into the cave where they sprawled on their backs.
“ Don't!” Walton called, anguished that it had come to this already, that his dream so easily slipped into fiendish nightmare. He didn't know if he called to his innoce nt men or to the monster, but none of them listened.
A harsh ear-splitting bellow rent the air and another man was in the monster's big hands, held off his feet from the floor of the cave, struggling mightily to save his life. As Walton rushed forward, he could see the tendons bulging on the monster's great arms and the veins filling to bursting point from the hapless victim's throat.
“ Let him go! Don't you recognize me? Don't you know me, Robert Walton, your master's friend? I'm WALTON. Hear me or, as God is my witness, I will shoot you down without hesitation.” Walton held a pistol on the monster, but whether he could actually kill with it, he did not know.
The monster's face turned slowly toward his voice and as his full features were presented, Walton fe lt the gun wobble in his fist, felt his stomach turn over, and his mind fell back as if from a blow. What horrible malignant devil was this thing that held his gaze as though in a vise? The beauty was still there, hiding beneath insane eyes that knew no l a nguage or obeyed no laws. The skin was smooth over the wide sunken cheeks. The lips, compressed in rage, were black as they had been when Walton first saw him, but an unearthly hardness made them look carved from dense obsidian stone.
“ Please?” Walton aske d, his voice pleading softly. “ Let him go.”
The man dropped and his feet went out from under him. He scrambled to his knees, and hunched over, gasping in air. Walton watched in suspense as the man came to his feet and ran for the outside, disappearing into the night. Suddenly it was clear Walton and the being were alone together. One man lay on the ice floor, but he was obviously never going to run or move again. His neck was broken, his head angled incorrectly, eyes staring. All the other men had fled in f ear for their lives. A despair filled Walton when he realized they surely had taken with them most of the supplies.
“ Now what shall we do?” Walton asked quietly, coming closer to the being and reaching out tentatively with his fingers to touch him. “ Don't draw back, I won't hurt you. I never meant to cause harm. Do you remember me now? Do you recall that meeting in the ship's cabin where your master died? Remember the story you told me?”
A cry of anguish and of buried rage arose from the creature's chest as it staggered away from his touch into deeper shelter of the cave.
Walton, overcome with pity, approached him again. “ Do you still miss him? Do you still live with regret that he died?”
It occurred to Walton the being probably had not spoken aloud for year s, maybe he had never spoken again after leaving the ship. If that was true, he might have forgotten by now even how to speak, how to form the words he had once so exquisitely voiced.
It was amazing that he had even remembered Walton's face. The recognitio n in the being's eyes, just as he loosened hold of his victim's throat, had been unmistakable. There was a shadow of humanity
I hope the being does not find me sleeping, but I must rest now, and write more later when I know, beyond any doubt, I have done this good and righteous thing by coming to claim Frankenstein's world-shaking creation.
Your most devoted brother,
Robert
* * *
The first he knew of the commotion, one man was dead.
Walton rose from the robes covering him near the fire and shrieked along with his men, the sounds issuing from his mouth without volition, so great was his terror.
Out of the blackness of the cave's opening, back lit by a wide shaft of moonlight, stood the thing Walton feared and yet adored. Two of the men rushed toward the imposing figure, but the being brandished a length of raw corded wood that struck them on the heads, knocking them back into the cave where they sprawled on their backs.
“ Don't!” Walton called, anguished that it had come to this already, that his dream so easily slipped into fiendish nightmare. He didn't know if he called to his innoce nt men or to the monster, but none of them listened.
A harsh ear-splitting bellow rent the air and another man was in the monster's big hands, held off his feet from the floor of the cave, struggling mightily to save his life. As Walton rushed forward, he could see the tendons bulging on the monster's great arms and the veins filling to bursting point from the hapless victim's throat.
“ Let him go! Don't you recognize me? Don't you know me, Robert Walton, your master's friend? I'm WALTON. Hear me or, as God is my witness, I will shoot you down without hesitation.” Walton held a pistol on the monster, but whether he could actually kill with it, he did not know.
The monster's face turned slowly toward his voice and as his full features were presented, Walton fe lt the gun wobble in his fist, felt his stomach turn over, and his mind fell back as if from a blow. What horrible malignant devil was this thing that held his gaze as though in a vise? The beauty was still there, hiding beneath insane eyes that knew no l a nguage or obeyed no laws. The skin was smooth over the wide sunken cheeks. The lips, compressed in rage, were black as they had been when Walton first saw him, but an unearthly hardness made them look carved from dense obsidian stone.
“ Please?” Walton aske d, his voice pleading softly. “ Let him go.”
The man dropped and his feet went out from under him. He scrambled to his knees, and hunched over, gasping in air. Walton watched in suspense as the man came to his feet and ran for the outside, disappearing into the night. Suddenly it was clear Walton and the being were alone together. One man lay on the ice floor, but he was obviously never going to run or move again. His neck was broken, his head angled incorrectly, eyes staring. All the other men had fled in f ear for their lives. A despair filled Walton when he realized they surely had taken with them most of the supplies.
“ Now what shall we do?” Walton asked quietly, coming closer to the being and reaching out tentatively with his fingers to touch him. “ Don't draw back, I won't hurt you. I never meant to cause harm. Do you remember me now? Do you recall that meeting in the ship's cabin where your master died? Remember the story you told me?”
A cry of anguish and of buried rage arose from the creature's chest as it staggered away from his touch into deeper shelter of the cave.
Walton, overcome with pity, approached him again. “ Do you still miss him? Do you still live with regret that he died?”
It occurred to Walton the being probably had not spoken aloud for year s, maybe he had never spoken again after leaving the ship. If that was true, he might have forgotten by now even how to speak, how to form the words he had once so exquisitely voiced.
It was amazing that he had even remembered Walton's face. The recognitio n in the being's eyes, just as he loosened hold of his victim's throat, had been unmistakable. There was a shadow of humanity
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