Bride of Frankenstein: Electra

April 22nd 1935 This ominous night, amidst the wailing winds, I am imprisoned in my study, haunted by an unspeakable encounter - the bride of Frankenstein, a creation borne of madness, lurks in the shadows of the forsaken laboratory. Yet, a revelation colder than her lifeless touch gnarls at my soul. She embodies more than grotesque stitches and deceased remnants; she mirrors humanity’s sinister need to dominate and morph nature and self into terrifying forms. Each pulse of her accursed heart resounds our perilous journey into uncharted depths, disregarding natural boundaries. In the storm’s echo, a chilling truth emerges - we fear her not for the monstrosity of her form, but for reflecting our own terrifying quest to seize unnatural control. The true horror lurks within us; in our audacity to defy natural limits, we become the monsters. A soul ensnared in the haunting dance between human ambition and nature’s eternal, unyielding song, Lorraine Hawthorne