I PARKED MY car and made it inside the Vitale estate with ten minutes to spare.
Please, don't let me be the only one dressed up.
The thought played like a sinister mantra in my mind, fueling my apprehension as I made my way towards the sound of conversation.
The idea of standing out like a sore thumb amidst a sea of mundane outfits made my palms clammy with anxiety. But just as I was about to succumb to my fears, I caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure in the hallway.
I felt like I could have cried from relief when I saw a variation of Dracula standing in the hallway just outside of the room, sporting a black cape with a flute of champagne in his hand.
As I approached him, my eyes flickered briefly over the man's costume before I strode past him and into the grand dining room. The vast space was lavishly decorated with glistening chandeliers, flickering candles and some gothic-looking Halloween decor.
It was strange how my mama's foster home radiated such vibrant and cheerful colours, while the Vitale estate boasted opulent decor and darker, richer hues. Despite their vastly different aesthetics, both places had a certain charm to them.
To the left, I noticed a long banquet table that overflowed with an array of tantalizing foods. My mouth watered at the sight.
Without hesitation, I made my way to the far end of the table, where an assortment of desserts had been laid out. Weaving my way past the other guests adorned in a myriad of capes, top hats, and other costume variations, I carefully placed the box of cookies I had brought next to the other treats before reaching out for a plate.
The cat-decorated container sat conspicuously among the elegant dishes, a whimsical addition that seemed to defy the refined atmosphere of the dining hall.
As I surveyed the array of desserts, a pit of disappointment fell in my stomach. All of the plates were meticulously labelled with their name and allergens, and to my dismay, every dessert had milk or egg listed as one of them. A cruel fate indeed, for a vegan with a dangerous sweet tooth.
I let out a dejected sigh and picked up one of the pumpkin cookies I had brought, eyeing the velvet chocolate truffles wistfully.
"Boo," a voice whisper-yelled in my ear.
My trembling hands let go of the cookie, causing it to fall back onto the plate and crumble into multiple pieces. I turned toward the voice.
"Woah," Gianna said, her golden hair swaying as she stepped back. "I really scared you there, huh?"
"Yeah, you did." My lips curved into a smile as I picked up the broken cookie. "I wasn't expecting that."
Gianna pouted, her full blood-red lips making her look like a sultry pirate. "Do I look that scary?"
Her pirate ensemble consisted of a frilly white dress that stopped mid-thigh, highlighting her long, tanned legs. A tight-fitting red corset cinched her waist. Black knee-high boots adorned with silver buckles hugged her calves, and a small dagger was tucked into the top of her boot. She tilted her head, the brim of her black tricorn hat casting a shadow over her face, waiting for my response.
"No," I shook my head, scanning her from head to toe. Despite the intimidating appearance of a pirate, Gianna still managed to look alluring and feminine, the frilly dress and red corset giving her a touch of softness. "You look amazing."
My jumpiness was most likely a lingering effect of paranoia. It had been two days since I had received the domino, and since then, everything seemed to have gone back to normal with my college classes and volunteering at the shelter. Nothing out of the ordinary had occurred or been left in my car since.
"Too slutty?" Gianna's voice broke through my thoughts.
"What?" I asked softly, snapping back to reality.
"Your eyes were wandering," Gianna teased.
I suddenly became aware of Gianna's height advantage over me. At that moment, I realized that my line of sight was not directed towards her face, but rather towards the generous curves of her chest.
"What?" I practically shouted, appalled at what she was suggesting.
"It's alright, Zahra. They usually have that effect," she said with a dramatic sigh.
"I really wasn't," I protested, feeling the heat creeping up my neck like wildfire. "Not purposely, anyway."
Gianna arched a sculpted eyebrow. "Well, unintentional or not, it's not polite to stare."
"I know, I know," I muttered, feeling embarrassed.
"You are no better than a man," she shook her head in disappointment, crossing her arms, accentuating her ample chest.
My eyes involuntarily flickered to Gianna's chest. It was like my body was conspiring against me because now that she had pointed it out, I couldn't not notice just how big they were.
"You're doing it again," she accused.
I covered my eyes with one hand, unsure if her arm movements were intentional. "Stop weaponizing those things against me."
"What good are they if I can't?" Gianna pouted, tightening her arms.
"I wasn't looking intentionally," I promised, feeling mortified.
Gianna's voice took on a playful tone, and her laughter rang out melodiously. "Oh Zahra, you should see your face! I'm just teasing, love. My apologies," she said, her words softening with warmth and contrition.
I cautiously lowered my hand and peeked at her from between my fingers. Seeing that she had relaxed her arms back to her sides, I let out a breath of relief and the heat that had crept up my cheeks began to gradually dissipate.
"Where did you get that cookie from?" she asked, her tone accusatory as she deliberately glanced at my plate.
"Oh," I said, gesturing towards the box on the table next to me. "I brought some with me. Would you like to try one?"
Immediately, she picked up a cookie, took a bite, and held her hand under it to catch any falling crumbs. Her eyes widened with delight, and she let out a soft hum of appreciation.
"Wow," she said, nodding her head in approval. "This cookie is divine."
A flush of warmth rose from my chest. "Thank you."
As I watched her contentedly nibbling on the cookie, memories of our first encounter resurfaced. It was during that conversation that she mentioned Professor Miller. I had been wanting to ask her about that.
"I meant to ask you," I started, hesitantly. "Have you heard from Professor Miller lately? He came to the lecture late yesterday which he never does and he looks more tired by the day."
"Sebastian?" She paused her eating, humming thoughtfully. "It's been a few weeks since we last spoke. It was when he mentioned you joining the club and asked me to keep an eye out for you."
That did sound like him. A constant worrier.
"Sorry," I apologised. "I don't mean to pry, I was just worried about him."
She laughed lightly. "No, it's okay. I was just thinking about it myself. Being late to anything doesn't sound like him."
Curiosity got the better of me. "I don't think I asked, but how do you know Sebastian?"
Gianna took a bite of her cookie before answering, "He was my mentor back when I was starting my bachelor's and he was in the final year of his master's program at our university."
"Don't tell him I told you this," she said, leaning in closer as if sharing a secret. "But he went through a little phase where he used to have a mullet."
My eyes widened in disbelief. "You're lying," I gasped.
"I never lie," she assured me, a sly grin spreading across her face.
As I tried to imagine him with such a hairstyle, I couldn't help but let out a burst of laughter.
"That's not all," she chuckled. "He was also part of a band called 'The Poet's Rebellion'."
"Stop," I begged, my sides hurting.
It wasn't so much the fact of having a mullet or being a part of a band on the verge of tears. It was the fact that it was Sebastian Miller. The wise and astute man I had known since childhood.
"Wait, if he's thirty-eight now and you knew him during your undergraduate, that would make you around thirty-two?" I questioned, my voice tinged with incredulity. "Forgive me if I sound blunt, but you don't seem even close to that age," I added, admiringly.
"Such kind words," she replied, placing her hands over her heart. "Although I must clarify, I'm only twenty-six. Sebastian took a six-year hiatus between completing his undergraduate degree and pursuing his master's degree. However, I had the pleasure of knowing him previously during his undergraduate studies."
"Really, how?" I asked, intrigued.
"My old classmate's brother was his bandmate. She got tickets to see him and invited me to come along." She explained.
"You watched him?" I asked.
"Unfortunately." She closed her eyes, nodding sadly.
"Lost in thought, drowning in ink. The words pour out, they make me think. The world is dark, my soul is bleak." She lowered her voice an octave to sound masculine while mimicking the motions of strumming a guitar.
I cringed at the lyrics. It was hard to imagine the same person who imparted endless knowledge about Shakespeare and Chaucer could also be crooning such cheesy words. He was certainly no Shakespeare. I could see why he had chosen to go down the teaching route.
I shook my head in disbelief, a glint of gold catching my eye as I did. A delicate gold chain hanging from Gianna's slender neck had caught the light, adorned with a beautiful sun pendant.
"I love your necklace," I complimented, admiring the intricate details of the necklace.
Gianna smiled, her slender fingers reaching up to touch the pendant.
Though her smile didn't falter and the sparkle in her eyes remained, something in her energy shifted, leaving me with a lingering feeling of unease. I wondered if I had unintentionally said something that might have caused her discomfort.
From the moment I met Gianna, she radiated a distinct aura, reminiscent of a brilliant and pure yellow glow, much like the sun hanging from her neck. But as her fingers brushed the pendant, the glow seemed to dim, and her energy shifted.
I felt a gentle pang of regret and realized that I may have misspoken. I went to offer an apology but was interrupted when a woman wearing a black witch's hat - who I recognized as Romero's publicist - entered the room and spoke up, capturing our attention and quieting our conversation.
"Excuse me, everyone. I hope you're all doing well this evening. If you could kindly follow me, we can start the book club." She announced before turning around and backing out into the hallway.
With a satisfying crunch, I finished the last morsel of my cookie and moved to follow everyone else as they began to make their way after her.
Gianna walked alongside me, a trail of warmth following her with every step. "I'm so glad you could make it tonight," she said, turning her face towards me as we reached the end of the room. "It's a good book pick too. Last week's was a little dull for my taste."
With a contented smile, I placed my plate on top of the already-used pile of dishes stacked on the trolley at the far end of the banquet table, near the doorway. "It is. What kind of books do you usually enjoy?"
Gianna's green eyes lit up, "Oh, I love a little bit of everything but romance stories will always hold a special place in my heart. You know, only the ones where the couple ends up together. I couldn't handle it otherwise."
I nodded, admitting that while I appreciated the emotional depth of tragic endings, they often left me feeling unfulfilled. Nevertheless, I couldn't resist the pull of them sometimes, even if it meant subjecting myself to heartache. "I know what you mean. Personally, mysteries and classics have their own charm that I love."
Gianna's voice lowered as she leaned in closer. "I couldn't agree more. A good mystery always keeps me on the edge of my seat. It's like a shot of adrenaline straight into my veins. We should exchange book recommendations sometime," she suggested.
Despite the aching pain in my jaw from my previous bout of laughter, I smiled hard and long. The joy in my heart outweighed the discomfort in my body. "I would be honoured too."
It was the truth, plain and simple. I had not known Gianna for long, but she possessed a talent for making you feel as if you'd known her your entire life. Her presence was a privilege one might spend a lifetime waiting for, and still be stunned by its goodness. Some might call my optimism naive, my trust in others blind. But my heart recognized a good person when it encountered one. And in Gianna, it had found just that.
Her long golden hair and brilliant smile enraptured me as she spoke. My mind couldn't help but ponder if there was a word that could adequately describe her. Lucent, ludic, elysian - they all seemed to come close, but none quite hit the mark. I knew an abundance of beautiful words, but it almost felt unjust to limit such a vibrant being to a mere word.
We were ushered into a room that seemed plucked from the pages of a gothic novel. The walls were adorned with dark, velvety wallpaper, and the chandelier overhead sparkled with a thousand crystals.
The room wasn't as grandiose as the dining hall, but it exuded a certain warmth and cosiness. In the centre of the room, a large circular table stood, surrounded by emerald velvet armchairs that protruded outwards all along the circumference.
Romero's publicist gestured for us to take a seat, and I settled into a plush armchair. The rest of the group began to mingle, sipping on their glasses of wine and champagne.
Glancing around the room, I took note of the gathered individuals, their expressions thoughtful as they listened to the ongoing discussions.
My eyes quickly counted a total of twenty-five heads, with the majority being middle-aged men. It seemed that Gianna's earlier observation was spot on.
As Gianna settled into the seat beside me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that we weren't placed in the centre of attention. Though we were situated towards the front end of the large circular table, we weren't too close to draw unwanted attention to ourselves.
I looked back to the front where the dark-haired publicist - wearing her witch's hat - was seating herself.
I was struck with a sudden realization that I had neglected to ask the woman for her name. It felt impolite to continue referring to her as merely Romero's publicist, even if it was only within the confines of my thoughts.
Before I could turn to Gianna and ask for her name, the woman in question cleared her throat, bringing the attention back to the reason we were all gathered here.
"Good evening, everyone, and welcome to this week's book club meeting. For those who may not remember, I am Priscilla Kaczmarek and I have the honour of serving as your host this evening," she said, her tone confident and polished. I detected a faint Polish accent in her speech. "I hope you all had the opportunity to read Frankenstein and I'm glad to see you all arrived dressed in costume, as we requested. Shall we begin?"
The group hummed their assent, and the discussion began in earnest.
"To summarize, Frankenstein is a multi-layered novel that explores the complex themes of creation, morality, and the dangers of playing God," she began, her voice clear and confident. "As we dive into our discussion, I'm curious to hear your thoughts on the characters and their motivations. Were they believable, and did they effectively contribute to the novel's overarching themes?
Although I had a well-formed response brewing in my mind, I hesitated to voice it aloud, realizing that I had never encountered this particular situation before. Uncertain about the proper protocol, I opted to bide my time and observe the unfolding conversation before injecting my own perspective into the mix.
A man with salt and pepper hair cleared his throat and spoke up. "I found Captain Walton's narrative to be an excellent framing device for the story. His perspective as an outsider provided a unique lens through which to view Victor's dangerous obsession with knowledge. It also serves as a warning to those who would seek glory at any cost."
Another man with dark hair gelled back leaned forward before adding, his voice smooth and confident, "Victor's perspective was essential in understanding the consequences and dangers of playing God. His unchecked ambition led him to create a monster that ultimately destroyed him and those he loved. It's a cautionary tale about the dangers of science without ethics." As he spoke, his eyes scanned the room, engaging the other members of the group.
"I was most intrigued by the creature's narrative," a man donning a fake moustache chimed in, and I found myself leaning in with heightened intrigue. "It humanized the monster and made me question who the real villain was in the story. Was it the creature, who was abandoned and left to fend for himself, or Victor, who played God and refused to take responsibility for his creation's actions? It's a thought-provoking exploration of the nature of good and evil."
"Thank you for your insights," Priscilla replied, nodding at each person in turn. "The three different narratives in the novel provide a unique and multi-dimensional perspective on the story's themes. I'm curious, though, what did you think about the role of society in shaping the characters' motivations and actions?"
I cleared my throat, feeling a bit nervous as all eyes turned to me. "I think society plays a significant role in the novel, particularly in the way it treats the creature. His experiences with rejection and isolation ultimately drive him to seek revenge and perpetuate the cycle of violence. It's a poignant commentary on the power dynamics and societal structures that drive human behaviour."
At the sound of a new voice, my gaze travelled across the polished mahogany table, settling on a striking figure. A man with a shock of grey hair, clad in a curious ensemble. He wore a mask that obscured the upper half of his face and a black cape with a yellow lining that contrasted starkly with his dark clothing. I found myself studying him intently, trying to decipher his chosen guise. Yet, despite my best efforts, I remained stumped. I couldn't tell what his costume was supposed to be.
"That's an interesting observation," he said, his voice low and curious. "But have you ever considered that the creature's actions may also be driven by his own innate nature? After all, he was created from the body parts of different corpses and brought to life by a mad scientist. Perhaps his violent tendencies are simply a result of his very existence." He leaned back in his chair.
I took a deep breath, considering his point. While it was a valid perspective, I offered a rebuttal, "I see what you're saying, but I still believe that the creature's actions were largely a result of how he was treated by society and others. It's a theme that runs throughout the novel - how our treatment of others can shape their behaviour and ultimately have a ripple effect on society as a whole."
"A fair point," his head cocked to the side, causing his masquerade mask to shift slightly with the motion. "But what about the role of Victor Frankenstein in all of this? He created the creature and then abandoned him, which could be seen as the ultimate rejection. Doesn't that play a significant role in the creature's inevitable motivations and actions of revenge?"
"I think it's also worth noting that the creature's violent actions weren't necessarily inevitable." I countered. "In the moments where he was shown kindness and compassion, he responded in kind. It speaks to the power of empathy and understanding in overcoming even the most difficult circumstances."
The man in the mask seemed unconvinced, but before he could respond, Priscilla interjected, "Let's move on to another topic, shall we? Does anybody else have a different input?" And just like that, the discussion shifted to a new thread. But I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this man in the mask than met the eye.
Gianna spoke up from beside me, her light voice brought a fresh perspective to the discussion. "I completely agree with everyone's different points," she said, "but I think it's important to highlight the role of women in the novel. Mary Shelley skillfully used characters like Elizabeth and Justine to shed light on the limitations and expectations placed on women in society. It's a subtle yet powerful commentary on gender roles that still resonates today. And can we take a moment to appreciate the fact that Shelley wrote this novel at the age of eighteen? It's truly remarkable how she captured such depth and complexity in her writing at such a young age."
I noticed a man across the table who seemed more interested in staring at Gianna's chest than in her contribution. I met his gaze with what I hoped looked like a stern expression, trying to convey my disapproval of his disrespectful behaviour. It was disappointing to see someone openly disrespect such an important discussion on gender roles and the portrayal of women in the novel.
The man quickly averted his gaze, looking slightly embarrassed. He should consider himself fortunate that Gianna was too engrossed in conversation to notice his wandering gaze and fall into his trap. I had not been so lucky.
I shuddered at the memory of the dining hall situation.
"I believe Shelley's use of the monster as a metaphor for the outcast in society is particularly poignant. The creature's physical appearance and lack of societal norms make it an easy target for discrimination and ostracism, much like how we often treat those who don't fit into the narrow moulds of our society. Shelley's warning against this kind of cruelty is just as relevant today as it was in her time." A new voice joined in.
As the conversation continued, various points were raised and debated, with new insights and questions coming to the surface.
Eventually, Priscilla signalled that the meeting was drawing to a close. "Well, it looks like we've had a great discussion today about Mary Shelley's 'Frankenstein.' Thank you all for your thoughtful insights and analysis of this classic novel. It's clear that the themes of society, human nature, and the consequences of ambition are as relevant today as they were in Shelley's time."
She took a brief pause to scan the room, making eye contact with each member of the group. "Before we wrap up, I just want to remind everyone that our next book club meeting will be in two weeks instead of one, and we'll be delving into the timeless and acclaimed play 'Macbeth' by the renowned William Shakespeare. Please make sure to read the play before our meeting, and as always, feel free to bring any questions or thoughts you have to the discussion."
Priscilla smiled at the group, and the sound of chairs scraping against the floor signalled the end of the meeting. "Thanks again," she said, "and I look forward to seeing you all next time."
thank you for reading and the support guys!! i realised how shabby the first 5 chapters are since i wrote them so long ago before my hiatus so i'm planning on fixing them up during the summer.