I Wish I Went Before Mary Shelley in This Storytelling Contest
“‘We will each write a ghost story,’ said Lord Byron; and his proposition was acceded to. There were four of us.” – Mary Shelley, in the introduction to Frankenstein.
Wow, Mary! Wow. Dr. Frankenstein and his monster. I can’t imagine anything more chilling. In fact, it’s so chilling that I think we should probably call off the rest of the storytelling contest right now. I don’t even need to take my turn.
Oh, are you sure?
Still?
Because I kind of wish I had gone first. My thing isn’t even that scary. Or about humankind. It’s just, well, did everyone else do this overnight? Because I feel like Mary Shelley may have pre-written her idea. All I’m saying is it feels pretty fleshed out already. I’m not trying to accuse anyone of anything. It’s just, I thought we were telling stories we came up with in the last twenty-four hours and not workshopping full novel ideas.
No, I didn’t dislike the story. It’s not about a ghost, so it doesn’t fit in the rules laid out by Lord Byron, but I love it! “A Modern Prometheus,” yeah, no, I get it. It’s really smart. And it makes you think about playing God and stuff, even though none of us would be able to play God that way. I know it’s a metaphor, but maybe try a more approachable idea for hubris? Just if you’re trying to pitch this later. I don’t even know that many people who have electricity, so it’s like, who’s going to get the message? Half the people who read this will just want the monster to wave his hands at fire or something.
Oh, wait! Does anyone else remember the four of us talking about that doctor, Giovanni Aldini, who had theorized electricity could bring back a recently dead body? I just remembered we had a whole discussion about that very recently. Wow. In fact, during Mary’s story, I thought, “Isn’t this like that news story about that guy?” So, I agree, her tale is really original.
I think I’m coming off as jealous. And I don’t mean to be. But it’s not as much fun to do this story competition when there’s a ringer in the room. Not to mention that her parents were kind of famous, right? So, you have that nepo-baby advantage right there. Not all of us grew up under the Wollstonecraft and Godwin banners. Some of us had to learn our letters ourselves and work full-time jobs that don’t allow us to come up with entirely new genres of fiction.
Like, I don’t consider myself a melancholic poet who has sex on their parents’ grave or whatever, so forgive me for not being that fancy. I just think—I don’t know—why does the monster talk so much? It’s like, am I supposed to be afraid, or am I supposed to be bored? Maybe it should growl or roar? Something actually scary and not “society is bad” scary. The tall part’s solid, but you made him yellow. I don’t want to give notes, but maybe green instead?
Everyone seems to just want me to move on and tell my story. But, honestly, I’m not really in the mood anymore. I really do wish I had gone first to set a better tone than Mary has here and not because her story was long and clearly outlined beforehand. Seriously, does nobody else think that’s strange? Nobody? Then why aren’t any of you volunteering to go next?
It’s like when there’s a group job interview, and you find out someone can bring a fiddle, and now you feel like you didn’t prepare. Again, I admit it’s a fun idea if you’re into this type of thing. I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve all the kudos we’re all giving her—me included. I’m not insulting you, Mary! I mean, when I realized that maybe Frankenstein was the real monster after all? I shivered. By the way, do we think it’s a mistake that Mary didn’t name the monster? I don’t want to put a hat on a hat, but people might want the monster to have a name, or they could get confused.
Anyway, here’s my story. Yep. Here we go. Coming right up. Uh, so my tale takes place in a castle. So, imagine we’re inside a big castle, it’s really scary. And there’s lightning. And a guy. And another guy. And a woman. But she’s dead. And they’re making, uh, the bride of Frankenstein!
Oh, so Mary can take an idea and run with it, but I can’t. I see. I see.