The Modern Prometheus modern design twist on Mary Shelley's Frankenstein | Page 27
Volume One
Chapter V
t was on a dreary night of November that I
Iaccomplishment
of my toils. With an anxiety
beheld the
that almost
amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around
me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing
that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain
pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly
burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light,
I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard,
and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs.
How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or
how delineate the wretch whom with such infinite pains and care
I had endeavoured to form? “His limbs were in proportion, and
I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful! Great God! His
yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries
beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of
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