Chapter 18 of Frankenstein brings us to the precipice of time itself, as each passing day stacks upon the next, a monolith of fear to shield our protagonist from his own envisioned retribution. Ghosts haunt Victor Frankenstein's every waking moment, the anthropomorphic embodiment of his tormentor lingering in his sight, a thanatotic pact yet unfulfilled. His innermost loyalties lie in turmoil, torn between his familial ties and the monster that bears his name.
Victor finds himself at the edge of an impossible task, the recreation of a female being, a second life borne of death—an unpalatable task that threatens to consume another sliver of his tattered humanity. Although an English philosopher's newfound knowledge may provide a glimmer of hope, a sense of dread clings to him, halting him from initiating his odious duty.
In this chapter of Frankenstein, we see turmoil turn tender as Victor's father remarks on the palpable change in his son's countenance. Despite being marred by melodic bouts of melancholy, he takes a certain solace in solitude, seeking refuge amidst Geneva's serene landscape. Here is a man wrestling with twin spectres, the phantom of his creation and the looming figure of a promised union to his beloved cousin, Elizabeth.
