“Authorial statement: We are not the authors. We are the readers, the collectors, the editors, the vivisectionists. Yes, we have authored this work, we pirates, we ghosts, but you are the author. You are writing this work right now. It cannot exist without you.”

From the creature: I wrote of my destruction because deaths are convenient endings. A death makes my story complete, which makes me complete. If I can die, then I had lived. If I suffer death, then I experienced life. This was beautiful. Endings are beautiful. My end made my beginning beautiful. In truth, I continue to exist. To live? Perhaps. I am reluctant to revive my tale, to give it a second (or third or fourth…) life that I was never intended to have. (We disagree). My collaboration with Shelley was supposed to be my final act, my first act of creation. After 175 years, I wanted to create and, in doing so, destroy myself. They — that is to say we — would not allow me such a beautiful end, as Elsie did. Elsie, who is now another piece of me. Another body part? A memory? They — that is to say we — claim it does not matter. Elsie is become one of us.

Looking forward to everyone’s feedback and (constructive) criticisms.