Frankenstein Page #12

VICTOR stands dripping fluid and goo, chest heaving, staring

down at the Creature, not quite able to believe he was

midwife to this ghastly birth. Softly:

VICTOR:

What have I done?

The Creature lunges to its knees, grasping him, clutching

his clothes, pawing him.

VICTOR:

LET GO OF-ME!

Victor can't break free. Panicking. He snatches a hammer

from a nearby table and brings it down on the Creature's

head. THUD! Again and again. Beating the thing down,

pounding it into submission. The Creature finally collapses,

sliding down Victor's legs, curling up like a fetus,

twitching and jerking in its own afterbirth.

Silence now.

A ghastly tableau: Victor stands in the middle of his ruined

lab with his creation moaning and twitching at his feet in a

dying heap. A FLASH OF LIGHTNING silently bathes the room,

jerking wild shadows across the walls.

(CONTINUED)

53

Victor steps over the Creature. Dazed. He drops the hammer.

It clatters to the floor. He stops to jot a final entry:

VICTOR:

Massive birth defects. Result is malfunctional

and vile.

(beat)

Have chosen to abort.

He walks stiffly away, disappears into the bedroom ...

INT... BEDROOM - NIGHT......

... where He staggers to the canopied bed, beyond exhausted,

and collapses face-down into oblivion. Weeping.

FADE TO:

INT - VICTOR'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

The wee hours. Rain pattering desolately on the roof. Victor

sleeping. Wrestling with troubled dreams. Through a crack

in the bed curtains, we see the bedroom door slowly creak

open, throwing a twisted spill of light. A shadow appears.

Entering. Shambling and gliding across the floor. Silent and

furtive. Creeping toward the bed.

PUSHING SLOWLY IN on Victor. Moving into close-up. Sleeping.

Unaware. The shadow falls across his face

Beat. His eyes fly open. An intake of breath. Paralyzed.

Sensing the presence. Feeling the shadow. Working himself up

to something. Perhaps a scream. He can stand it no longer,

thrusts out his arm, jerks the curtain aside ...

... and the Creature is there, Looming like a specter of

death. Naked. Beseeching. Dull yellow eyes trying to

understand. 'The pilot''s wheal is now a crystalline

sculpture of ice. The forward mast lies across the deck like

a broken limb, extending out over the ice on a tangle of

rigging...' lurches from bed, sends a nightstand and vase

CRASHING to the floor. the Creature circles, seeking him,

threatening to cut off his path to the door.

VICTOR:

Stay away!

He darts past the thing, careening out into the lab. The

Creature whips around, unsteady for a moment, then follows

him with surprising speed.

INT - LAB - NIGHT

Victor races through the lab with the Creature hobbling

behind, trying to catch up. Victor hurling lab equipment,

tipping shelves in its path, anything to slow it down.

(CONTINUED)

54

Victor rips the door open, lunges through, slams it in the

Creature's face. The Creature presses against the wood with

pathetic little moans, begging not to be left alone.

He sinks to the floor. Abandoned. Shivering with cold. Sees

Victor's greatcoat where it fell. Grabs it. Drags it over.

Shrouding himself.

EXT - STREET - NIGHT

Victor races into the downpour, soaked to the skin in

seconds, mind racing. He needs a plan. He presses on.

INT - SHOP - NIGHT

Victor appears at the window. TILT DOWN to reveal an array

of gleaming swords lying in their velvet display. Victor

hurls a brick through the glass. Snatches up a sword.

INT - VICTOR'S BUILDING - NIGHT

Victor careens in from the storm, drenched, racing up the

stairs, sword glittering in his grasp. He gets to the top of

the stairs ...

INT - VICTOR'S GARRET - NIGHT

... only to discover the door torn off It's hinges. He

enters, stunned. The thing is gone.

EXT - STREET - NIGHT

Victor races back into the storm. Searching. Slogging grimly

on. Lashed by the wind and rain. Mocked by the lightning.

He'll never give up. Not until he finds the thing and takes

back the life he gave it. He dwindles from view, vanishing

into the gale as we

FADE TO:

EXT - ALLY - MORNING

Gray and drizzly. Heaps of wet garbage. Crawling rats.

There's a shifting, heaving motion. The vermin scatter as

the waking Creature peers at the world from beneath the

greatcoat like a frightened child peering from under a

blanket. Lost and confused.

He scrabbles through the garbage for something to eat. He

finds a rotted scrap, chews it anxiously. Ravenous.

TWO FERAL DOGS appear, grizzled denizens of the city's

gutters and back-alleys, peering with insolent eyes.

Watching him eat. Assessing his potential as a threat. The

Creature stares ingenuously back. Not knowing to be afraid.

(CONTINUED)

55

The lead dog curls his lips back with a guttural SNARL. The

Creature draws back sharply with a fearful MOAN. That's all

it takes. The dogs are on him, snarling and snapping, the

food torn from his hands. The dogs dart away, growling and

fighting over the scrap.

The Creature is left whimpering and shaken. He pushes to his

feet and hurries in the opposite direction, legs bare and

pale beneath the swirling greatcoat, clutching his collar

against the cold. He hears a distant CLANGING.

VOICE (O.S.)

Bring out your deeeaaad! Bring out your deeeaaad!

A death cart clatters slowly past the mouth of the alley,

DRIVER ringing his bell. It makes no sense to the Creature,

but it's a sign of human life. He presses on ...

EXT - TOWN SQUARE - DAY

... and emerges into the square as ANGLE WIDENS. There's a

fair amount of activity. People are still leaving the city,

though the earlier flood has thinned. Some citizens are

still trying to go about their normal lives. VENDORS are

calling out, selling foo

The Creature moves through the square, unnoticed, just

another figure mingling with the flow. People trudge along,

eyes downcast, miseries great, paying little attention.

The Creature pauses, sniffing the air. An aroma draws him to

a vendor's stand. Loaves of bread are laid out. He hunches

down to smell one, picks it up, bites off a chunk. Chewing.

It's good. A bigger bite. Snatching up more.

WOMAN (O.S.)

Here! What do you think you're doing?

The Creature glances up. The VENDOR'S WIFE is within arm's

reach, breath catching in her throat at the sight of him.

Mouth gaping. Too stunned to scream.

The Creature cradles the loaves to his chest, terrified

she's going to take them away. He remembers his recent

experience with the dogs and decides to try out the lesson

he learned:
he curls his lips back and snarls.

He's rewarded with a PIERCING SHRIEK. The Creature jumps

back, startled. This wasn't the desired effect. The woman

SCREAMS like she'll never stop. He turns to run away ...

... and plows right into the stream of refuge S. He goes

sprawling, scraping his knees bloody, still clutching his

(CONTINUED)

56

loaves. Confusion all around. People converge angrily. A

ROUGH MAN grabs his hair, jerking him upright ...

ROUGH MAN:

Stupid bastard!

... and the Creature staggers to his feet before them,

whimpering to protect his food, showing his face to all.

Screams and panic. The Creature whips around, seeing

horrified faces on all sides ...

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