Today is the end of it all.
I take a walk on the beach towards the evening, around the time of the sunset.
As I look out to the horizon, the awesome beauty of nature, I see a small boat.
There is one single occupant.
He is large, too large to be normal.
The boat reaches the shore and the man steps out of the boat.
He is hideous, but I, the naturally delightful man I am, walk up to greet him.
I tell him my name, and ask him of his, but he suddenly becomes enraged, for no apparent reason.
His eyes are like two pieces of glass, freshly pulled from the kiln, bright and full of fire.
I am terrified, too terrified to run.
He grips my neck in his cold, hard, gigantic hands, and squeezes.
I can feel myself losing consciousness.
I cannot fight him off.
He mumbles angrily, and I can make out only a few words.
I hear words like Frankenstein, creator, revenge, and traitor.
Could this be the being Victor seemed to have been afraid of?
But why would my friend know of a creature as terrible as this and not tell a soul?
Did he know of this moment?
Was Victor wanting me dead?
NO.
No, I would not think of that.
I know I am on the brink of death.
I refuse to end my life accusing my dearest friend of the impossible, horrible scenario I had just created.
I feel the rock-like hands grip tighter and tighter.
I feel the life leaving my body.
My hearing fades out first.
Next my sight fails me.
My last sight is the disgusting yellow eyes and pale grotesque features of my murderer's face.
Now all I see is black, and I think, "This is it."
What else can I do?
I am practically dead.
I finally give up the struggle I had been putting up until now.
My plans, my bright future, is gone.
The full life I had ahead of me has vanished.
All is lost.
I breathe my last.
My soul leaves my body, and as I float upward, I see my murderer drop me on the sand and leave.
He simply sails off, and my death is not avenged, not even known of.
Perhaps Victor did know of that monster.
Hopefully when he hears of my death, he will avenge me.
It is no longer my worry, however.
I am moving on to better things.
-Henry Clerval
I really like your Clerval's very detailed albeit somewhat graphic recount of his own murder. A million things would be going through my mind if that was me - even though it kinda is, since we have the same character - but you focused on facing death with diginity and pure faith and love in your friend. Clever, Clerval.
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