Ernest was six years younger than myself, and was my principal pupil. He had been afflicted with ill health from his infancy, through which Elizabeth and I had been his constant nurses: his disposition was gentle, but he was incapable of any severe application-Shelley 1818

so that's how I was remembered? A sickly child! Yes it is true, I have been ill since infancy. My stature does not match the ones of my play fellows, rather, some birth defect has rendered me quite small, and while yes, I needed a cane to move my body, I was still a functioning human being! Oh yes I have been like this I am now in my early twenties, as I write this journal, I am filled with rage, I watch the ink from the quill, splatter everywhere as my hand trembles! Professor told me I was going to be okay, that's a load of crud! I keep on muttering curses to myself, I will be noticed Am I so wrong to wish that they Would see things like I do? And am I so wrong to think That they might love me too? Why shouldn't they adore me? Is it not within my right? I'll not be overshadowed! Mine is not the lesser light! I've waited long enough now I'm on the verge of breaking they say to take a deep breath but I can't do it, I want revenge, I need my revenge, I need it now more than ever I want to see my enemies suffer, in my left hand even though I ambidextrous I'm clutching onto my copy of the Necronomicon, I have tried and failed to bring my family to life however I do have their Spirits with me all I need to do now after I'm done writing this is to return them to their bodies they will have no Memories the one I refuse to return to life is Victor, he has suffered enough well that's all for now tonight diary I'll check in tomorrow good night

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.