The weathered, seemingly abandoned building of the asylum was hardly visible through the trees of the surrounding park this morning. The soft, November drizzle, and the light mist were only adding to its dismal atmosphere.

Approaching its ancient walls I tried to banish the sadness its look always made me feel. Squaring my shoulders I reminded myself that I was here for a reason. Helping the poor souls confined inside was my vocation. 

During my medical studies I noticed the awful conditions and appalling treatment the patients of the mental asylums received, and I resolved to help as many of them as I could. The asylum of Ingolstadt was no exception, and in over a year that I worked here, I noticed at least a couple of the ill that could be released back to normal life.

My fiancèe greatly admired my work and helped me not to lose my resolve. The thought of my Victoria brought a smile to my lips, and I touched the pocket of my coat, where I always carried a picture of her.

I entered the building silently. A nurse rushing across the hall informed me that my colleagues have not yet arrived. I did not remove my coat, as the inside of this awful place was as cold and damp as the outside, and put my white shirt over it. Then I made my way to the first floor. I wanted to speak to Otto Knam, a middle-aged man considered by all to be a mad and dangerous scientist. 

Like every morning, I entered his cold cell, containing only a small bed in one corner, without knocking. As usual, he pretended not to notice me, as he stared at the faint stream of light coming in through the grate of the only, narrow window. But, today, instead of standing by the door, observing his behaviour and taking notes from a distance, I decided to talk to him.

"Doctor Knam," I started, approaching his bed carefully, not wanting to alarm him. "I've been coming to see you for months now, and I've come to a conclusion. Whatever it is that torments your mind, it is not as grave as you think, I'm certain. You should not be kept shut here, for the rest of your life. You are still young..."

My words, which he obviously did not expect, caused a great change in his normally apathetic behaviour. He sprang to his feet and approached me so fast, that I took two startled steps back.

"I'll tell you what happened to me," he blurted out, "I'll tell you all, only don't send me away from here, for out there my life is in great danger."

Such were the first words he had ever uttered in my presence. Without further ado he narrated his story.

"It must be some ten years ago now, that wretched winter day when I found, in the library of my university, a strange book. On closer examination I discovered that it was a handwritten journal, rather than a book, and, out of curiosity, I carried it home with me. It was a riveting read, about a bold and unorthodox scientific experiment. 

A fragment of madness that must have been sleeping somewhere inside of me woke up, and I longed to try it for myself. I didn't want to create a hideous monster as he, Victor Frankenstein, described, but a perfect, beautiful wife for myself.

I felt that God was on my side, when one freezing winter night, I found a body in one of the deserted streets on the outskirts of Ingolstadt. It belonged to a poor girl, selling matches and other trinkets. A person no one would ever miss or look for. She froze to death in such a manner, that she appeared to be sleeping.

I carried her to my house, seen and followed only by my shadow. With little effort, guided by the journal, I breathed a new life into her dead body. I did not run, when she opened her eyes for the first time. 

Patiently, I explained what had happened to her, and taught her anew all that she needed to know. For some reason she possessed strength much greater than other women or men, but she learned to rein it, to tune it down. She was thankful to me, and soon there was no happier or more attractive couple than us in all town.

Years passed and my beloved started to long for an offspring. When we found out that she was not able to carry a child, she was devastated. 

One day, she brought home a dead, new born baby, hidden in the skirts of her dress. When I asked her, alarmed, what had she done, as the poor thing had many bruises around its neck, she only begged me to bring it back to life. I refused, explaining to her that the experiment was not suited for children's delicate and undeveloped bodies. Together, we buried the corpse in the nearby forest.

A week after, when I came home from university, I found her with another inanimate corpse in her arms, one of a bigger boy. I repeated the same to her but this time, the beautiful monster I created, tried to kill me. With her inhumane strength it was a miracle she did not succeed. I was forced to flee my own house, and when they found me, wild, half-crazy, in a small village where I found a temporary refuge, and brought me here, I did not protest. Now this place is my home." 

He seemed to have finished his story, but something of what he said piqued my curiosity. The great strength in otherwise fragile looking female body...

"What did you call her?" I asked, dreading his response.

"Victoria," he said. "I can still see her beautiful eyes, one icy blue, the other moss green..."

I had to lean against the wall, to stay upright, as my legs trembled dangerously. I took the little picture out of my pocket and handed it to him. Unknowingly, he just described my beloved fiancèe.

"Alas, she found me," he breathed out, after he observed the drawing.