Adam Frankenstein: A Collection of Short Stories

by Sheila English

Lightning struck behind the mausoleum, thoughts of old friends, and old wounds, traded for those of self-preservation.

Supernaturals weren’t always evil, just as humans weren’t always good, but they were seldom admitted into the elite hunter’s circle.

onfusion greeted pain as freezing cold washed over his naked body and the heat of Hell itself flowed through his veins ripping a scream that echoed against the wet stone of a great chamber. The scream grew in volume and intensity, forcing his heart to race near-bursting. Sucking in deep gulps of air stayed the screams and brought the revelation that those repetitive auditory representations of utter horror belonged to him.

“I told you I am evil, but not a demon. Even humans do evil, some far greater than what I do, yet you still call them men. The hypocrisy of man never ceases to amuse and annoy.

The difference was, Adam included all creatures, not just those with supernatural abilities. He realized early in his life that humans were monsters too and that he had no prejudice regarding who or what needed killing.

Her story felt true. But, he had to acknowledge that his experience with people didn’t give him any special insight to truth. To hate and judgment and fear, yes, but truth was tricky. Subjective.