Disclaimer: The events in this story are fabricated. The copyrighted stuff is property of Stephen Summers, & M. Shelly.

The sound of her window slamming open tore through the softness of the country night. Mary, who had grown accustomed to the silence of the wilderness surrounding the manor, jolted awake instantly. Her windowpane groaned under an intense weight, and to her horror, a giant figure, silhouetted by the moon stood before it. She gasped as it pulled itself through her window. Before she could shout for help, the monstrosity was leaning over her and putting a hand to her mouth.

"Don't scream." It said, more of a plea than an order. Mary obeyed, too frightened to do otherwise. Above the pounding of her heart, she could hear a commotion passing by. Her eyes darted to the window, and she saw a group of shadows and the flickering of torches in the distance.

"He disappeared!"

"He won't get far!"

"The Monster!"

"Kill it!"

Every fiber of her being ordered her to scream, but her lungs would not obey. She could only wait helplessly as the rabble passed by. Once they were out of earshot, the creature released her and she fell back, hitting her head on a bedpost.

The creature stepped back, and in the strange green light that seemed to come from his head, she could see his face. It was stitched together crudely, as if a child had sewn him together with a shoe lace, and grossly discolored. It was covered with crags and crannies that she realized must have been scars.

"Dear God, what in Heaven's name are you?"

"It is too complicated to explain now. I am called by my father's name, Frankenstein."

"Mary." She answered reflexively.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you, Mary."

Mary was too stunned to respond. In the flickering of the odd green light, she could almost see concern in his grotesque features.

"I will be gone without a trace if you let me stay but a moment longer, until I can be certain that they have passed."

"W—why do they hunt you?" she stammered.

The creature smiled ruefully and lifted his arms.

"I thought it would be obvious."

"H—how did y—you come to be like this?"

It, or he for she could see that it was quite obviously male, took a seat in the chair beside the young woman's desk.

"I was created this way. My father, Victor Frankenstein formed me from the remains of dead men."

Mary should have been horrified by this information, but somehow it fascinated her. Timidly, she slid out of her covers and crawled to the foot of her bed.

"Does that mean you are alive, or are you…a zombie?"

The creature chuckled.

"No, I am very much alive."

"And you can speak, can you read and write?"

The creature nodded.

"This is amazing. May I…?" she asked, reaching out hesitantly.

The creature, as surprised as she by her boldness hesitated, but leaned forward. Mary first brushed her fingers against his face, and grew bold when he did not hurt her. Gently, she traced the row of stitches that ran from his forehead to his chest. She stopped at the nape of his neck, and moved on to his arm, pinching the skin.

"Ouch!"

"You can feel pain?"

The creature turned away.

"Aye, I can feel pain."

Her eyes wandered again to the many scars that covered his face.

"Were they part of your—your creation?"

The creature shook his head and Mary caught a glimpse of suffering in his eyes.

"They came shortly after."

Mary took his hand in hers, continuing her examination. His hands were massive in comparison to hers. Her fingertips barely touched the edge of her palm.

Footsteps in the hallway outside of the room startled them.

"That will be Byron and my husband. You had better go."

The creature nodded and stood, heading for the window. A knock on the door urged him to move faster.

"Mary, are you alright?" a man called from the other side.

"Give me a moment Percy," She called. "I'm not decent."

The creature clambered into the window, ducking low under the pane.

"Thank you, Mary." He whispered as he slipped away into the night.

"Good luck, Frankenstein." She murmured, as the faint glow from his skull faded into the darkness.

"Are you decent yet, love?" Percy called.

Mary ripped her robe off of her chair and threw it on.

"Come in, come in."

The two gentlemen burst the door open.

"You see, Perce, there is no one here!" Lord Byron declared.

Percy glanced about, as if still uncertain.

"I swear I heard voices. Are you alright, dear?"

Mary continued to stare out the window.

"Mary…"

"Oh—oh, yes Percy, I'm fine. I had a strange dream was all."

"See, Perce, I told you there was nothing to worry about. It's all of those bloody ghost stories. They've got you so wound up that you're seeing spirits in every corner. Perhaps we aught to end the contest. Mary is never going to have a story ready at the rate she is going anyway."

Mary smiled.

"I wouldn't say that, Byron. In fact, I think I have the perfect idea for a story now."

A/N: And that, dear friends, is my Van Helsingization of the story behind the story, Mary Shelly's story that is. After having a dream of a monster looming over her bed, Mrs. Shelly was inspired her to write a story that began as her entry for a friendly competition between her husband and friend, who also happened to be two great literary minds of the time. This story evolved into one of the most iconic Gothic Horror stories of it's time, Frankenstein.

This fic, like many of my fics, was also demi-semi-hemi-quasi-inspired by Gargoyles, but only just a tad. Fleeting Encounters was an episode of the TGS: Timedancer (an online spin-off) in which Brooklyn and Sata end up in a series of random times/places and cause certain events to happen. For example, they land in a tree and cause the apple to fall on Sir Isaac Newton's Head. They also land in a room with a small boy, who wakes up and sees them. Sata must sooth the boy to sleep by telling him a story about a frog. This boy turns out to be Jim Henson, and is inspired by this to create Kermit the Frog. The title is a tribute to this hilarious episode.