Frankenstein Novels & Stories

Nicholas walked through the battlefield and stood before the limping Naster. “Is this all you got? Naster Fangs? Aren’t you the prideful product of science and nature?” Nicholas taunted. “Show me your true color murderer.” Naster could feel his blood boil in anger as he screamed in pain, his body burning, and soon lost his sanity as the soul of countless wolves took over his body.

As we near the school grounds, Rowan entwines our fingers and gives me a gentle nudge. “So, I talked to my brother and asked him about what could have been used to reanimate our “Frankenstein” creatures.” “What did he say?” I ask. Rowan grimaces. “Our scientists think it might have been a spell, but when I asked him what other possibilities there were, he confirmed that it would have to be two powerful supernatural mates.” “Did he say what kind?”

Rebecca took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on Dr. Ingres. "That's how it all started," she said, her voice low. "With Dr. Jenkins's obsession with human evolution and genetic manipulation. And I assume he discovered the existence of werewolves through his research."

“Morning!” From the corner of his eye, Frank saw the ivory sculpture still sitting in the middle of the kitchen island. He turned to face it and put both hands on either side of it, palms flat on the counter. “I guess we’ll need to get some floating shelves. I don’t know why, there is something creepy about that sculpture, but I like it.” “It’s coming from a very old family of vampires. I’ll introduce you to them eventually. There are a lot of people I wouldn’t trust around you or want to know about you, but I trust them. They’re good people.”

He plants his forehead to mine and closes his eyes. "Don't worry, I'll come back to you," With one last kiss on my forehead, Don headed out confidently. I know he will return to me, but my fear of him facing Petrov makes my heart uneasy. Petrov is a true monster than Eddie. Eddie is the scientist, and Petrov is the Frankenstein monster. A match made in hell. "Let's go," I say as we both carefully leave the house and see the SUV parked outside with Landon in the driver's seat.

The warmth of his blood spills from the wound, but before darkness can claim him, a cold rush fills his veins, a sensation both alien and intoxicating. He opens his eyes to see her—the creature that has sealed his fate. Her beauty is otherworldly, her eyes a deep, fathomless black, reflecting the night sky. Her hair, dark as a raven’s wing, cataracts down her back, and her lips, stained with his blood, curl into a smile. She is Matilda, daughter of William the Conqueror—the first of their kind, an Original Vampire, the progenitor of a race that will haunt the world for centuries to come.

AUTHOR'S POV Helena strode through the dimly lit corridor, her heels clicking against the cold marble floor. The walls dripped with moisture, the air thick with the acrid stench of chemicals and decay. She adjusted the lapels of her coat, inhaling sharply before stepping into the chamber where Victor waited. The room was eerily silent except for the faint, rhythmic beeping of the machine beside him. Victor sat slumped in a massive leather chair, his grotesque form barely resembling a man. His skin, or rather, the mismatched patches of it, sretched awkwardly over his hulking frame, an abomination of flesh crudely stitched together. Some parts were too pale, others too dark, all fused in a pat

Apart from being werewolves. I had to ask Ashlia. She would know. I needed to divert my thoughts and attention, so I roamed his room. The glass liquor cabinet covered the entire wall. How much liquor did this man consume? The furniture was minimal, bland and uninteresting. The bed was covered with a black satin sheet. My gaze wandered to his side table. A book lay there. My interest piqued. ‘Frankenstein’ by Mary Shelley. The bookmark inside revealed he had been reading it.

I nodded, interested in what he was getting at. Well, the monster wasn’t name Frankenstein, the creator was. He gave that monster life, adding bits and pieces of different beings to him. You are similar to that Ayda. When I smell your blood, I can smell myself, the wolf, the Angel, I can smell human, and I can surely smell demon and some magic, though witch type, I am unsure. There is one smell, however, I cannot define with certainty, but I believe I know what it is. You also smell of the creator, the Almighty.”

It was making it hard for her to even focus. But she took a few deep and calming breaths, waiting for that haze to clear. And once she felt steady enough to walk again she went straight for the sink, set on having at least a few mouthfuls of water. She needed to hydrate if she wanted to remain conscious. She desperately chugged those mouthfuls of cold water by placing her mouth near the tap and letting the water flow, feeling relatively soothed now. She even splashed some on her face and then rose again to have a look into the mirror, not surprised at all to notice that she actually looked horrible. She looked tired. Underfed. And all cried-out. She looked like she went through hell. Which w