02-19-2013, 09:47 PM
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For my British Literature class, we were assigned a free write on Frankenstein.
Just a hint, I Roger is a play on Igor backwards.
It's not done, yet, when it's finished I'll put the rest on(: The next part is switching to Peter's point of view, the zombie.
On the night of December 20, 2012 everyone was hiding inside their houses, with the doors locked and the curtains closed. Many people believed that the world was going to end the next day.
In Brooklyn, New York, a horrendous thunder storm was nearing Greenwood Cemetery. Many of the people buried there are long forgotten, as they had died before the dawn of the nineteenth century. Metal crosses, large marble headstones, and statues fill Greenwood Cemetery. At 12:00:01 am, a bolt of lightning struck the largest cross in the cemetery. The strike made the metal cross glow, like a giant light bulb. If anyone had been outside their houses, they surely would have seen it happen.
Frank Steiner woke up at 6:00 am that morning. He was surprised at his being awake so early, especially from being kept awake by the fear of the apocalypse. He walked over to his window to peek outside at the world. As he approached the window, he noticed everything was silent. No birds, no wind, no people. He was afraid he was the very last person on earth. Frank grabbed the left curtain, gulped, and slowly moved it to see outside. He was expecting to see utter destruction and horrible monsters running around, but there was nothing, nothing but a few branches in his yard and a large limb that had fallen off of a tree in the cemetery. It had fallen across two headstones and broken one of them. He decided he should call his mother, who lived in upstate New York. They hadn’t spoken since Frank left for Fordham University. When Frank put his phone to his ear, it was silent as well. He flipped on the light, but there was no power. He assumed that a power line must be down somewhere. He got dressed in his normal attire, jeans and a t-shirt. There wasn’t much in the ways of food in his fridge, just some moldy cheese, so Frank decided to venture outside to further survey “the apocalypse.”
Roger, Frank’s dog, came clicking over to him. Roger didn’t seem too bothered, aside from probably really having to pee, so Frank decided that going out wouldn’t be all that bad. He opened the door and Roger ran out and began sniffing the branches in the yard. As Roger did his business, Frank took a good look around. There was no damage to his house or car, just in the cemetery. He cleaned up his yard by dragging all the sticks and branches into a pile.
Frank was about to head back inside, but he felt bad about leaving the two gravestones with the branch on them. Since the fence to the cemetery was very low, Frank just hopped over it. Roger was small enough that he could just squeeze underneath. The branch on the gravestones was a little big for Frank, but he managed to get it off. As he examined the broken marker, he saw the name. It was very hard to see, so Frank began dusting it off. The name looked like it said Peter Mormel, or something like that. As he squinted at the numbers beneath the name, Roger whined and Frank could have sworn he heard a growl answer. Frank brushed it off as his stomach grumbling, though he had felt nothing, and squinted at the numbers. The year this man had died was most clear, 1798. Frank was astonished at how old the marker was. Roger barked at the ground beneath his owner’s feet. Frank wondered what he could be barking at, then, he heard it. It wasn’t his stomach this time. There were definitely noises coming from the ground. It sounded like a ghost moaning, like in the movies. Frank was so shocked, he couldn’t move. There was no way someone would be buried alive, at least not under this gravestone. Roger began digging at the ground. Frank fell backwards onto his butt when he heard another, much louder grunt. It was definitely human. Frank grabbed Roger, and half way crawled and stumbled away from the grave. He put Roger down to hop over the fence, but Roger ran back to the grave. Frank turned just in time to see a hand reaching up through the ground and Roger biting it and running off with a finger. Frank was shaking, and wanted to throw up, even with his empty stomach.
More and more of cadaver was slowly emerging from the grave. Arms first then the head, it mostly hairless, with hardly any color to the skin. Frank was terrified, gasping for air, he was in shock and could not move. He was gripping the fence so tightly; he thought he was cutting his hand. Frank’s thoughts were going a mile a minute. Was the thing coming out of the ground alive? Was it evil? Was he about die? It really was the apocalypse, for Frank and Peter both.
02-19-2013, 09:55 PM
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AAAAHHHHH!!!!! Now I have to sleep on that!
02-19-2013, 09:56 PM
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It'll be finished by tomorrow for sure! Haha
02-19-2013, 11:00 PM
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SOme notes on this part.
Mormel means monster in Dutch.
Also, there was no proof reading involved here. It also trails off becauseI'm tired and can't think of anything.
Peter remembered dying. It seemed like only yesterday. He died in a bar fight at the Black Dog Inn. It started as a scrap with a friend about the Federalists and the Democratic-Republicans, Jefferson’s Party. Politics and alcohol are just as volatile a mixture than as they are now. His newfound friend that night was a Federalist, and he a Democratic-Republican. They were going back and forth over whose party was better and it soon turned into a full-blown brawl. While Peter was a good and strong fighter, his opponent overtook him with a barn stool. Peter was beaten to the ground, and died of severe head trauma and excessive bleeding.
Peter, nervously peered out of what he assumed was his grave. His eyes were not serving him so well, but he looked at his surroundings as best he could. Directly in front of him, only ten feet away, was a young man. He looked absolutely terrified. This scared Peter even further. If this man had something to be so scared of, Peter should be scared as well. He grunted as he tried to climb out of the grave, due to the brain damaged that occurred at his death, he didn’t realize he was the cause of fear. As Peter clawed at the ground, the man on the ground in front of him, screamed like a little girl. This shocked Peter so much, that he fell back into his grave. He laid there a moment and grunted. He looked down his body at his feet. What he saw helped make the connection of the young man’s fear. He was a horrid looking corpse. His clothes were dirty and threadbare and what was left of his skin was colorless. He lifted his hands to his face. All nine of his fingers were bone. Peter was utterly dismayed at his deterioration. He stared at his hands a bit longer and then remembered that he had ten fingers at death, he grunted louder and stood up in his grave. The man on the ground shrieked again. Peter ducked into his grave, he didn’t want to scare the only human in sight. Peter stuck his hand to the air and grunted softly, when there was no scream in response, he peaked over the edge of his grave. The man was still there and was staring at him, breathing heavily and whimpering. Peter forgot how to speak, and could only grunt and try to ask for help. Facial expressions would not do him any good because of his decayed state. Roger, noticing the commotion Peter was making, came running over to him, and began chewing another one of his fingers. Peter, distressed by the dog playing tug of war with his bony hand, grunted and tried to escape the dog’s mouth, but it was no use. Roger made off with Peter’s whole hand this time. Peter was so upset, that he managed to get out the words, “My hand!” in a raspy and dry voice. Frank was so astonished to hear the supposedly dead man speaking that his jaw dropped. Peter saw the Frank staring at him, and tried again to ask for help. This time he managed to get the word “help” out. Frank was still too scared to move, so he sat and stared at Peter. Peter stared back, he didn’t want to scare the man, he just wanted his help. Peter looked around for the dog that stole his hand, that was when he noticed all the other graves surrounding his and all the huge towers around the graves. Peter was astonished, they were like huge castles everywhere.
Frank noticed Peter’s jaw was dropped in awe of his surroundings. It then occurred to Frank, that the man in the grave had never seen the modern world. He watched in disbelief, as the corpse looked around him. After watching it for quite some time, Frank decided that maybe it wasn’t going to kill him. Frank called to it, “Hey!” in a shaky voice. The man turned, looked at him and grunted. Frank was still horrified. He took a deep breath and asked the corpse if it was going to kill or harm him. The dead man gave a sincere grunt and shook his head rapidly, then asked for help again.
Frank agreed, and slowly moved toward the grave. As he inched closer, thoughts of being dragged into the grave and being eaten were running through his mind. The closer he got, the more he could smell the rancid scent of death. Frank wanted to throw up, both from fear and the disgusting smell. Now, being able to see this thing from a closer distance, he could see just how horrible it was. The closer Frank got, the more excited it got. It was almost smiling, and Frank found that very disturbing. Frank reached down a hand to the corpse, and shuddered when his living hand was met with dead bones. Frank held his composure and tried to not pass out. The corpse said to him, “pull,” so he did. Frank pulled and the decaying body came up and out of the grave. He dropped the body and it fell to the ground with a quiet thud. It grunted and rolled over to sit up. Frank just stared as the body looked up at him. He held back the urge to run and hide.
“Please… do not be afraid. I…” the corpse started choking, trying to get out more words.
“I will not hurt you. Sit.” The corpse motioned for Frank sit down. He took a step back and did so. They both seemed to be calm and handling the situation well. They sat and stared for a few moments.
“So, your grave says your name is Peter, is that right?” asked Frank. The corpse grunted and gave a single nod.
“Well, I’m Frank. I live in that house.” He motioned to the small and simply house. Peter looked at him in surprise. He thought he must have a lot of money or come from a good family, to live in a house that large. As the two men, well the man and the dead man, continued talking, Peter asked many questions. He asked about the shiny metal things that are called cars, the clothes Frank was wearing, the huge towers that are called houses, and other things like that. Peter barely understood any of what was being told to him, he was just astonished at how changed the world was. As they continued their conversation, the year came up. Peter had been dead for over 200 years. While the thought of numbers was on his mind, Peter asked for his hand back, but sadly Roger had already eaten it.
Over the next few years, Peter learned a lot from Frank, they became good friends. Peter mostly had to stay hidden, but now with zombie movies being such a thing, he gets paid to be himself!
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