Victor Frankenstein's Awkward Moments - 1. A Bad Night for Victor

The air was chilled this night. The moon sat high in the sky creating an eerie glow in the fog as it settled slowly above the moist earth. Perfect for his task tonight as most would avoid these dark nights in favour of a fire in the hearth and mug of mulled wine in their goblet.

Sweating profusely he gave thanks for the cold seeping slowly into the hole he continued to dig.

“Remind me why I am doing this and not you?” he asked his companion, who was nervously watching the distance, trying to make out if anyone was approaching.

“What,” his friend asked innocently, “You know I have back problems.”

“Ya right,” Victor mumbled under his breath, “If you’d shave down that hump once in a while…”

“What was that?” Igor rose in annoyance not quite catching the words from Victor, but guessing his intent.

“Nothing… I was just saying that it would be nice if you stopped being a grump once in a while.” Victor responded nonchalantly.

“Oh,” Igor’s temper died down and he settled in among the heaps of earth once more, while Victor returned to his task.

“This should be a fresh one Igor,” Victor was practically salivating in anticipation and it motivated his unaccustomed muscles to work harder in completing their mission.

“Hey, who goes there?” A voice suddenly called from the distance and Igor blew out the flame of the candle he was holding.

“Oh man, this is not good!” Victor said quietly. “Quick, help me out of here.” He reached up, only to find Igor was turning to run.

“Sorry boss, you’re on your own,” and he retreated quickly into the fleeing darkness, pushed away by the light of an approaching torch.

“Igor!” Victor cried after him frantically, to no avail. There was no hope now, and Victor sat down in the earth pondering his situation.

“Well, well, well, what have we got here?” A man in uniform grinned down at Victor viciously. “We got us a grave robber, boys.” He shouted back over his shoulder.

“Oh no, good sir, there is a misunderstanding here,” Victor began, “you see, I had a death in the family very recently. Consumption… you know.” The man backed away from the lip of the hole a little. “No I don’t have it!” Victor said defensively. “Anyway… so my wonderful father passed and we have so little money that the good people at the undertaker’s shop told me I could save some coins if I did the digging myself. So you see constable, there is nothing untoward happening here.” Victor straightened himself up, pulled down his waistcoat, and smoothed down his ruffled hair, to look more the gentleman that he was.

“Uh, huh…” the constable said as he stepped forward again to the hole crouching down and bringing his torch forward. “And so you came here in the dead of night and decided that this was a good place to dig?” He held the light next to the tombstone of Lenny Johnstone 1798 - 1818.

“Ah…” Victor looked at the headstone. “Quite the coincidence, wouldn’t you say?” He smiled weakly.

“No, I wouldn’t.” There was a hardness in the constables voice that made Victor swallow a lump in his throat. “Lock him up boys.” And Victor quickly found himself surrounded by men who jumped in the hole with him and placed his hands in irons. Muttering under his breath Victor was determined to see Igor die by his own hands as he was led away toward the lights of the distant village.