The Creature at My Bedside

I started from my sleep with horror; a cold dew covered my forehead, my teeth chattered,

and every limb became convulsed; when, by the dim and yellow light of the moon, as it forced its

way through the window-shutters, I beheld the wretch—the miserable monster whom I had created.

He held up the curtain of the bed; and his eyes, if eyes they may be called,

were fixed on me. His jaws opened, and he muttered some inarticulate sounds,

while a grin wrinkled his cheeks. He might have spoken, but I did not hear; one hand was stretched

out, seemingly to detain me, but I escaped, and rushed down

stairs.