Mary Shelley

It was on a dreary night of November, that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils. It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its body. His limbs were in proportion, and I ha...