Prelude

Captain Robert Walton, in a letter to his sister, November 9th, 1793
It was just north of the Arctic circle that I discovered him, adrift on a floe
of ice alongside our ship. A wretch, near death. In the days that followed he
would tell me a tale, strange and horrifying. His life… a twisted path of
destruction. His deeds… almost too incredible to recount
I am the innocent, I am the damned!
I alone know the heart of this man…
The found of delusion, the father of dreams!
…For I alone am still haunted by the faces of those he loved
His adoring father, who could see in him only greatness
The mother whose loving spirit he could not bear to lose
The young brother who worshipped him
And the faithful servant who understood why
I am not a madman!
The soul who was his dearest friend in life
And the woman, who from their childhood days had been—
His one, true love
I can hear my name…
His story is the province of nightmares
Blackened by my crime…
Yet, it must be told
Haunting me and taunting as it echoes through all time…
His name…
Is Frankenstein