"I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy one, I will indulge the other." -Mary Shelley's Frankenstein

She had died before his eyes. A slow excruciatingly painful death as her body was ravaged by disease. The best treatments known to man were helpless to reverse the damage. Dr. Victor Frankenstein, world renowned oncologist, had papers published in every major journal. His work was studied by medical students in respected universities. But accolades were meaningless if you couldn't save your own wife from the very disease you fought every day.

When the conventional and experimental treatments proved ineffective he began new research of his own. Every waking moment was spent either by her side, or in his lab. He failed countless times, each time fracturing his increasingly damaged psyche, until he stumbled upon a discovery: a method for reanimating dead tissue. Even this astonishing breakthrough was worthless to him because it could not save her.

Elizabeth Frankenstein died the next day, her husband by her side. Friends and family tried to comfort him, but their words went unheard by the inconsolable doctor. Retreating to his lab, rage took over. He smashed his experiments, flinging glass vials to shatter against the walls, tearing up pages of diagrams and equations. When he reached his final experiment, however, a strange sense of calm settled over him.

Yes, he could bring her back. She would be with him again.

His first crime was stealing her body. It was simple enough with his access and knowledge of the ins and outs of the hospital. The hard part would come next. He couldn't just bring her back as she was. Her cancer infested organs would need to be replaced. The replacements had to be clean, and they had to be fresh. His own patients were out of the question, even their seemingly healthy organs held the risk of carrying the beginnings of the disease. And he had to move quickly, he had no way of knowing how long her body would remain viable.

Therefore, his next crime was to obtain new organs. He passed up the easy targets - the homeless drifters, the prostitutes. He couldn't risk them having unhealthy organs. That was why he found himself beside a jogging trail at the park armed with a chloroform soaked cloth. The young woman he chose was simple enough to sneak up on with headphones in her ears. He quickly dragged her off into the woods before anyone else came along.

By the time she awoke he already had her naked and strapped to the table in his lab. Her eyes went wide as she took in her surroundings, settling on the corpse strapped to the table next to hers, it's abdomen open. Hearing her gasp, Victor turned and saw her awake. His bloody hands went around her throat. She tried to kick and scream, but to no avail. The pressure he exerted on her windpipe asphyxiated her quickly. After a few moments, Victor began harvesting her organs.

Hours later, he finished sewing up the incision in Elizabeth's body. A machine already pumped his solution of chemicals mixed with the blood removed from the victim through her veins. Victor applied the electrodes and began administering electric shocks. He increased the intensity slowly, watching for signs of movement. When he reached the limits of the machine's capabilities he began to lose hope.

"Come back to me Elizabeth," he begged, tears filling his eyes.

Then, a twitch of her lips. A flutter of her eyelids. Finally her eyes snapped open, staring straight ahead.

"Yes," he gasped. "Yes! She's alive!" Her eyes drifted to gaze at him. "SHE'S ALIVE!"

Is she Victor? Or have you, I mean, I, created a monster? We'll find out soon enough.

Thanks for reading this rather long-winded entry in Blane's 13 Days of Halloween. If you've missed any other days you can find them here.