Frankenstein

Frankenstein
1 October 2017
Anchorage, United States
He fumbles—his keycard slips from his fingers— and stoops to retrieve it with shaking fingers.
What have I done?
Three attempts later, and the bolt finally slides back and he lurches gratefully into his quarters.
They call me 'Dad.'
Dad.
Dad.
He idly notes he's on the floor, good leg curled uncomfortably.
I've become Victor Frankenstein, without intending.
My creations are even less human than his.
The metal bed frame digs into his wings and they twitch in their binding.
I have become my mother.
I have created monsters.
His head rolls back and his eyes map the aggregate stars scattered across the ceiling. He smiles, weakly.
Thankfully, my children do not suffer my fragile bones and disfigurement.
They are tall and strong, even if they are inhuman, too.
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