• As he opened the shadowy lid of the coffin, Victor was careful not to let it creak. He opened the box and peered inside. Suddenly, the moon was obscured by several clouds, and Victor could no longer see into the box. Silently swearing to himself, he closed the muddy oak lid and sat back in the deep trench he had dug with the help of the cemetery watch. It had been pricey, but the husky middle-aged man had finally given in to the bribe Victor had offered. Now, sitting in his best friend’s grave, Victor waited for the moonlight to reappear. In his mind, he berated himself for not thinking to bring a flashlight He stared up at the charcoal sky, painted black and gray with clouds like scattered ashes. He thought back to the events of the past few weeks, to how Randolph had been shunned by the scientific community. Randolph was Victor’s colleague and best and only friend. Randolph had been working on “a new breakthrough, a miracle of science.” He had been looking for a way to resurrect somebody. Deemed immoral and crazy, he had been kicked out of the university. Without a job and with rumors of his experiments circulating, Randolph had lost everything from his dignity to his house. But most importantly, he had lost something else: his will to live.
    Victor was jolted out of his thoughts by the shine of light in his eyes. The watchman had walked over to the grave and was now shining a flashlight at Victor. He scowled at Victor.
    “Are ya gonna leave soon or are ya just sleepin’ down there?” inquired the guard, his annoyance audible in his tone.
    “I’ll leave when I’m done. Give me that flashlight, I can’t see a thing.”
    The burly man frowned and considered it for a few moments. “It’ll costchya extra.”
    “Excuse me?” asked Victor, outraged at the insolence of the man.
    “If ya wanna use the flashlight, you’ll have ta give me more cash.”
    “I already paid you!” said Victor, angry yet trying to keep his voice down out of fear that someone else will overhear them.
    “Well, the way I see it…” said the man fidgeting with his keys, “I can just call the authorities and tell them that there’s some grave robber hanging around.” He looked at Victor, his eyes triumphant.
    Victor sighed, reached into his pocket, and drew out a few bills which he handed to the patrolman. The burly man greedily snatched the money from his hands, counted it, and put the money in his pocket before tossing down the flashlight. The man lumbered off towards the guard house, obviously satisfied with himself.
    Victor turned and looked back at the coffin. He once more hefted the lid aside and aimed the flashlight at the corpse that was inside. The beam of light illuminated the week-old body of Randolph Wendelhoff. The smell was horrendous, the stench of death and rot spiraling out towards the scientist. Victor felt a sudden sorrow for Randolph’s fate, and he ran his hand over the hole in Randolph’s torso where he had shot himself. He shone the flashlight up and down the remains, observing the extent of the damage to the body. Randolph was still in relatively good condition, enough so that the experiment might work. Victor slowly stood up, his knees aching. He climbed up out of the abyss and waved the flashlight back and forth over the window of the guard house, a signal to the guard to once more come out. The watchman walked out, annoyed with this new disturbance.
    “What now?”
    “I’m going to need help carrying this thing.”
    “How far?”
    “Just to the pick-up.”
    The guard grunted and they hauled the heavy coffin to Victor’s rented pick-up truck. They slid it up into the back of the truck, the guard panting with fatigue. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and started going back. Victor also traveled back to the grave. He took the shovel that was stabbed into the mound of dirt that was piled up nearby. As he labored away refilling the grave, he considered having the guard do it, but knew that it would be expensive. Besides, with the patrolman’s physique, it could take all night. Victor lifted load after load of soil into the ditch, until he was finally done a while later. Leaning onto the handle of the shovel, he took off his glasses and wiped them with his shirt. He gave the guard the flashlight, threw the shovel in the truck next to Randolph, and got into the driver’s seat. As the truck wheezed into ignition, Victor adjusted the rearview mirror and changed gears before easing off into the silent streets of Berlin.
    - - -
    Victor Venstien’s Private Laboratory
    As Victor leaned over the table reading Randolph’s notes and studies he glanced over at the body of Randolph himself. Randolph was laid out on an old autopsy table. Victor thought about the procedure that Randolph had been developing, about how he was going to have to perform an operation with surgical precision. He wondered whether or not the device he was supposed to use to replace the heart would work. The device would start pumping blood throughout Randolph’s veins, and would periodically send out tiny electric shocks into the blood to simulate life. Of course, it wouldn’t be Randolph’s own blood; that was drained for embalming. Victor would have to remove the embalming fluid and refill his veins with human blood, which he would pay well for from the blood bank. He would also have to replace several organs, and replace some tissue with new stem cells. It was a lengthy, complicated, and very expensive procedure, to say the least However, Victor was certain that it would pay off. His thoughts wandering, Victor suddenly realized how alike this procedure was to the one in the classic horror movie, Frankenstein. He smirked.
    “Except you won’t end up being a mindless creature.” He rose and walked over to Randolph. “Because this procedure makes perfect sense, instead of just electrocuting the body. Just imagine, hitting the corpse with lightning and expecting life!” He talked to Randolph as if they were still just two fiends discussing movies. “No wonder the monster turned on Dr.Frankenstein. He had just been hit by lightning!” Victor glanced in the direction of Randolph, half-expecting him to make some witty comment. But Randolph just lay there, quiet as death can be. Victor sighed and twirled the ends of his moustache around his finger. He had hair that shone black like the carapace of some desert beetle. It had been slicked back with the use of some oil and combed back neatly. His eyes were the color of a wolf’s hide and had once glinted with intelligence and thought but were now dull and exhausted. He went back towards the desk and sat down.
    A few days later, he had everything ready. He set everything up, and started the procedure.
    - - -
    1 Week Later
    Victor was sitting nearby, watching. Randolph was asleep, and alive. However, he had been sleeping for the past few days, and Victor was getting anxious. He had set up machines to monitor Randolph’s vitals, and he seemed to have good brain activity. Success! thought Victor, a smile on his face for the first time in a long time. He couldn’t wait until Randolph awakened.
    He monitored Randolph’s activity for the next few days, awaiting the revival. One day, while Victor was reading at his desk, Randolph stirred and his heart rate quickened. Victor quickly looked up, dropped his book, and ran to Randolph’s side. Randolph moved, grunted, and opened his eyes. Victor was elated and could barely contain his excitement. He ran to his room and brought some water. He poured it into Randolph’s mouth until he was fully awake. Randolph sat up in the bed and looked down at the concrete flooring.
    “How do you feel, Randolph?”
    He looked up at Victor, and Victor noticed something strange in his eyes. They stared at nothingness with an intensity like he had never seen before, and when Randolph looked up at Victor, it was like a thousand-yard stare. Suddenly, Randolph gave out a great roar and threw himself against Victor. Victor slammed against the wall, the wind knocked out of him. He gasped for breathe and watched in horror as Randolph smashed the heart monitor and other machines near the bed. Then, he lifted up the bed with a mighty groan, his muscles bulging. Victor thought to himself, “What have I done?”
    Randolph flung the heavy steel bed at Victor, who was crushed beneath its weight. As Victor lay under it, breathing his last breathes, there was only one thing on his mind; “Frankenstein. I’ve created a monster.” His ribs snapped, and his lungs collapsed. He thought to himself through the pain, “The university was right. Nature should be left as it is.” And then, with this final realization, Victor Venstien was no more. Randolph lumbered off to cause more havoc, leaving Victor’s now lifeless body alone. He started heading for the University, feeling nothing but unbridled anger at the world that would not let him sleep.