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The Man Who Became Frankenstein's Monsterby Robert Daicy
General Fiction
Date Published: 1/17/2014
New York, 1926 - Anyone can make a good life for themselves if they are just willing to work hard for it. William Barker is such a man. He has a good job, a nice house, a son named James, and a marriage he is trying desperately to hold together. A tragic accident takes this life away and William finds himself alone in his house with terrible mental and physical scars that are a constant reminder of what happened. With no one willing to employ a man with such visible and disturbing scars, William is lost and has no answers for how to live his life. That is when he meets the man who will change that life forever, Roland Skelton, the owner of Skelton's Spectacular Traveling Carnival. Where others saw a man to be shunned, Roland sees a man he may be able to help. Roland convinces William to join the Carnival as the headliner of the ten-in-one. With the name Frankenstein's Monster, William is a hit with the paying audience and finds that being onstage is a release from his pain and guilt. In time, William realizes that those he works with understand him better than he could have hoped. While working at the carnival, William finds a new happiness, an enemy, purpose, and even love. The Man Who Became Frankenstein's Monster is a moving novel about a man who rises above adversity set against the backdrop of the golden age of the carnival.
Excerpt for The Man Who Became Frankenstein’s Monster
For a seven-year-old boy, Saturday
was a long time in coming, but finally, it arrived. Some of James’ schoolmates were jealous that
he was going to Coney Island, lamenting the fact that their own fathers would
not take them until later in the season, if at all. Although James was not usually a braggart, on
this occasion, he bragged to anyone who would listen to him. James had gone to bed earlier than usual on
Friday evening, reading from The Arabian
Nights to keep his mind distracted until the book fell from his hands and
landed with a thud on the wooden floor as his eyelids closed at last.
When he awoke Saturday morning, James
immediately jumped out of bed and rushed downstairs to see what time it
was. To his surprise, neither his mother
nor father were in the kitchen and when he looked outside, James discovered
that light was only just starting to creep over the horizon with the promise of
a sunny day. When he saw the time on the
clock on the mantle, he was horrified to discover in was not quite six in the
morning and his parents would not be up for at least another hour.
Knowing he would be unable to fall
back asleep, James decided to go into the living room and keep his mind
occupied with the previous days’ newspaper - the sports section at least - until his parents came
downstairs. He read up on the Yankees,
but found himself skimming over the article.
Maybe it was because they were losing this year or that Babe Ruth
hitting the long ball wasn’t quite as thrilling to him, but whatever the
reason, James found himself moving from the Yankees articles to a brief article
on horse racing. When there was nothing
else of note in the paper, James put it down next to him and waited for the
time to pass by.
Feet descended down the stairs a
while later and Helen appeared, dressed in the pink bathrobe she had worn to
bed. Helen said good morning to her son
before going into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee before she
started on breakfast. James acknowledged
his mother, looking out the window and seeing that the light had finally won
its daily battle with the darkness.
William came down while James was
still staring out the window and looked curiously at his son. “What are you doing up so early? You usually sleep late on Saturdays. I hope you haven’t made any other plans,” he
teased.
“I was too excited to sleep. I’ve been up for over an hour.”
William laughed. “I thought we only went through this on
Christmas morning.”
James’ cheeks reddened a little. “One more day in the year can’t hurt. So when can we go?” he asked excitedly.
Stretching out his stiff muscles,
William answered, “Can you let me wake up and have my breakfast first?” He realized his tone sounded grumpier than he
had meant, so he spread his mouth into a wide, tooth-baring smile as he said,
“We’ll go soon, I promise. We need to
have breakfast and get ready first.” He
ran his hand through his son’s hair and went into the kitchen.
James had to force the overcooked
breakfast down that morning; his stomach was not quite cooperating with him due
to his anticipation, however. He hated
how long his father took to finish breakfast while seeming to read every
article in the morning paper he had gone out and bought while Helen had cooked
breakfast. A look of disappointment
arose on William’s face when he read that the Yankees lost the previous
afternoon, although the loss came as little surprise. Instead of simply sitting in the kitchen
watching his father waste time with the paper, James trotted upstairs to dress
and prepare for the day. He washed up,
changed into a pair of blue shorts, and put on a plain white shirt. As James slid a sock over his left foot,
William appeared in the doorway, awake and relaxed. “I’ll get ready so we can go,” he told his
son. Looking out the window, William
remarked, “It sure is a nice day to go to Coney Island isn’t it?”
The weather outside was as good as
any New Yorker could hope for on a May morning.
The sun was out, shining down on the street and what little grass there
was in the yard, while birds fluttered about in search for food. The sky was a light baby blue, with no clouds
in sight to ruin the day with a possible rain.
“Yes! It’s a perfect day to
go!” James cried, unable to hold back
his enthusiasm.
“Well, I better get ready to go than,
shouldn’t I?” James nodded his head in
response and descended downstairs while his father went into his room to dress
for the day.
“Now James, don’t you be any trouble
to your father,” Helen cautioned her son as he came back into the kitchen.
“I won’t be, I promise.”
“Good. I’m sure you’ll have a great time. I always loved going down to Coney Island
with your father before you were born,” she said as she thought back to those
days, almost sad that she would not be going.
Despite all the rush in the house on a Saturday morning, Helen was in a
great mood, caused by the fact that she would have the entire day to
herself. Saturday’s were typically hard
for Helen because she went about doing the usual housework, but had William
around eating all the food and trying to fix up some broken things around the
house while James was running around with his friends, making a mess just after
she had cleaned one up. It was going to
be refreshing to have no worries about what trouble James was getting into in
the neighborhood. In short, Helen
despised Saturday’s, even though it was the favorite day of the week for both
men in her life.
Eager to get going, James went
outside to wait for William, bringing a baseball with him to toss to
himself. William remained in the house
for a moment and said to Helen, “I hope you enjoy your day by yourself. Do you have any plans?”
“Not that it’s any of your business,
but I plan to relax today and I might go over to Peggy’s for some drinks later
on,” she answered, obviously annoyed that he was cheating her of even another
minute of peace and quiet that she felt entitled to. William could tell by looking into his wife’s
face that she was done with the conversation ‒ if it could be called that ‒ and
he said goodbye, leaving the house without waiting for her to reply, knowing
she would not have one.
The young boy and his father walked
excitedly down the street to the subway station on Atlantic Avenue, a short
distance from their home. When the
subway arrived - after a chorus of screeching brakes caused James to cover
his ears - they waited their turn patiently in line. William handed over two nickels and boarded
the crowded subway car with James following closely behind. James looked through the small window next to
him the whole way, admiring the mosaic tiling along the walls as he envisioned
the sights and smells he was soon to encounter.
The ride was a short one as Coney Island was in the Southwestern tip of
Brooklyn. The short trip suited James,
who was crowded on all sides by the mass of humanity in the car.
When the subway car stopped, a
struggle ensued as everyone in the car tried to get out at once, eager to be
the first one to let themselves loose on Coney Island. William held his son’s hand and told him to
wait for everyone else to get out, not wanting to risk getting James trampled
in the mayhem. As soon as William and
James walked off the subway at Stillwell Avenue into the crowded street, James’
eyes lit up as he saw the nearby Giant Racer, the screams of passengers ringing
in his ears. The enticing smell of
Totonno’s pizza, along with Nathan’s Famous five cent hotdogs and fried clams
entered their noses and caused their stomachs to ache with pangs of hunger as
they started to walk with the crowd who had gotten off the subway. Although they had eaten Helen’s breakfast,
the smell in their kitchen that morning was nothing compared to the succulent
smells they were now breathing in, mixed with the salty aroma of the ocean.
“Let’s just walk around for a while
and see what we find,” William instructed, taking James’ hand in his own and
heading straight ahead.
They had been walking for over twenty
minutes when a talker was heard in front of the Dreamland Circus Sideshow. William guided James away from the man standing
on a platform and toward the opposite side of the street where the Eden Musee
stood. There were dozens of customers in
front of the building reading the posters that listed the wax attractions
within or staring in the two display windows.
“What’s The World in Wax
mean?” James asked, reading the words off the billboard over the display
windows.
“It means that this is a wax
museum. All the displays inside are of
famous people or scenes done in wax.”
“How do they do that?”
“I’m not sure to be honest.”
“Can we go inside?”
William was about to say yes to his
son and even had a hand in his pocket in search of the twenty cents it would
cost the two of them for admittance when his eyes rested on the posters on the
building, which proclaimed attractions such as: Rulers of the world, Death of
an innocent victim, The eve of an execution, Assassination of Pres. McKinley,
and Martyred Christians. “Um, I think we
better not.” Seeing the disappointment
written across James’ face, William quickly offered, “Why don’t we look around
a bit more and see what else is here.
Maybe we can come back later.”
This last statement cheered James up
and he quickly followed his father down the street until they were in front of
the Barrel of Fun, which was a long spinning tube made of wood in which people
entered through one end and slowly made their way to the other end while the
barrel spun around, making navigation rather difficult. James slowed down as they passed, watching
some children and their parents laughing inside as they were thrown about the
spinning barrel. William and James
joined the group of onlookers who were laughing with mirth at the people trying
to exit the ride.
“I think we’ll have to go on that
later,” William said as more people climbed in the entrance of the ride. James nodded his head and the two continued
on taking in all the sights of the various amusement rides and games that could
be played as the sun started beating its mild-May rays on their shoulders. James was afraid to blink, afraid he would
miss something spectacular in the seemingly endless park.
“Do you want to go back to Nathan’s
and grab a couple of hot dogs?” William
asked James, whose hand he was holding so as not to lose his son amongst the
crowd. Coney Island was always busy, but
ever since the five cent subway rides, it was a booming tourist attraction
because more people could now afford to go.
Even though it was May, there were more people than James had ever seen
in his life.
“Sure!” James declared as they turned back toward
Nathan’s Famous stand on the corner of Surf and Stillwell Avenue.
“They make what many consider the
best hot dog in the world,” William informed his son. “I’d have to agree,” he added, feeling a
distinct pull as James started to walk faster.
It was not long before the sign above the open stand could be seen,
proclaiming: The Original Nathan’s Famous
Frankfurters with green writing and a lowercase “N” in front of
Nathan’s. To the left was painted a
wooden barrel with 5¢ in the middle and to the right was
listed: Frankfurter, Roast Beef,
Hamburger with a large five and small cent sign right next to the
offerings. As William led James closer,
a white banner underneath the main sign read from left to right: Potato Chips 10¢, Malted Milk Milk shake 6¢,
Soda 5¢, Ice Cream Soda 10¢, Pineapple - Orange - Grape - Lemon 5¢.
People were flocking to Nathan’s from the subway and coming from the
long boardwalk on the other side of the stand with William and James. When the line had moved up enough, William
and James reached the stand, they could see about a dozen workers busy taking
and filling the orders. There was no
distinguishable line, just a mass of bodies pushing their way toward the front
so they could get their cheap hot dogs and root beer.
William made sure he had a good grip
on James’ hand before pushing toward the front of the line with everyone
else. Considering how many people were
trying to get hot dogs for themselves and their children, it was a surprisingly
quick wait before William ordered four hot dogs, a hamburger, and two root
beers - all
for just thirty-five cents. He had no more
than spoken the order and within forty-five seconds, the food was in front of
him, steaming hot.
Food in hand, William and James
pushed back through the throng of humanity and went walking back along the
wooden boardwalk, which stretched two and a half miles from W. 37th Street to Ocean Parkway. The
boardwalk was as mobbed as Nathan’s had been, for William could see nothing but
a sea of people in front of him as he searched for a place to sit down and
eat. While he was scanning the nearby
area, a small commotion occurred when two policemen went chasing after a man
without a shirt on in order to give him a warning that he must not have his
chest exposed. The shirtless man ignored
them, however, running into several people as he tried to get away. Several females looked disgustedly after the
man as he ran by, followed by the policemen.
After the disturbance was over, William finally found a little pavilion
with a few spots to sit down a short distance away.
“Why are you looking at me like that,
Dad?” James asked, seeing his father
staring at him after they had sat down.
“Well, this is a special moment in
your life, son.” William replied as he
took one of the hot dogs out of the small box their order came in.
“What’s special about it?”
“This is your very first Nathan’s hot
dog,” William told his son, handing him the hot treat.
James was about to take his very
first bite then paused. “Dad, do you
remember your first Nathan’s hot dog?”
“Yes, I do. The very first time I took your mother out
was when I first experienced a Nathan’s hot dog. I remember closing my eyes and biting down
and just letting the flavor enter my mouth.”
James held the oversized dog in front
of his mouth and closed his eyes, biting off a small chunk of the hot dog and
letting it rest in his mouth for a few seconds; he could even feel the steam
hitting the roof of his mouth as some of the juice ran out onto his
tongue. Before the saliva in his mouth
increased any more than it already had, James started to slowly chew up and
down, enjoying the feel of his teeth puncturing the skin of the hot dog after
getting through the bun. When he
swallowed the bite, his stomach craved more.
William waited for his son’s eyes to
open again before asking, “So, what do you think?”
“It’s delicious! You have to eat yours now, just like when you
were here with Mom.”
William nodded, closed his eyes, and
started to think back to when he and Helen came here to sit down on the beach
and eat sweets and go on some of the rides, but those thoughts turned as bitter
as their relationship had for William, who thought of how much the girl he had
married had changed. He opened his eyes
and looked down at his son, who had given up watching his father and was
eagerly devouring the rest of his first Nathan’s hot dog. When William closed his eyes again, he
pictured that very moment - he and his son eating hot dogs on the boardwalk at Coney
Island on James’ first visit - and he put the treat into his mouth and ate that first bite
as he always ate them: slowly.
When their bellies were full, William
decided they would spend some time laying on the beach and perhaps walking into
the shallow ocean to let their food settle before going on any rides. Finding a place to sit on the beach was not
an enviable task; people sat towel to towel and if you looked from above, you
wouldn’t see a beach there at all, just a huge mass of people. William managed to find a spot just big
enough for the two of them to lie down.
From where they were, they could not even see where the ocean
began.
“Hey, dad, what’s that?” James asked, looking behind them and pointing
up past the boardwalk to a giant metal circular structure in the distance.
William sat up and saw what his son
was pointing to. “That, James, is the
Wonder Wheel!”
“What’s a Wonder Wheel?”
“Well, it’s a wheel of wonder of
course,” he stammered, unable to find the words to describe the ride. “You see those little baskets hanging off of
it?”
“Yes,” James answered, looking
skyward at the mountainous contraption.
“Well, people get into those and when
they are all full, the wheel spins around slowly in the air so when you get to
the top, you can see the ocean and all of the park. You go around several times until it‘s time
to get everyone out,” William explained.
James’ eyes grew wide as he tried to
comprehend being able to see all of New York.
“Can we ride it?” the boy asked excitedly.
“Sure, we’ll ride it later on this
evening -- that’s the best time because all the lights will be on in the
city. It’ll be a long wait in line
though.”
“It looks gigantic from here!” James declared as he marveled at the enormous
ride.
“It is, just wait until you see it up
close”
“How tall do you think it is?” James
wondered aloud, more to himself than to his father.
“Oh, I’d say at least a hundred feet,
maybe more. Bigger than I am, that’s for
sure.” William lay back down on the sand
and tried to rest his eyes for a few minutes and let his meal settle, but James
would have none of that. He persisted in
asking when they could go on the rides.
Apparently, his stomach had taken the Coney Island food better than
William’s had. Unable to resist his
son’s constant persistence, William decided to get up to lead his son to more
fun.
Walking through the giant mass of
people, William and James heard an assortment of American accents and the
languages of all sorts of foreign countries.
There was a Chinese couple taking pictures of the ocean, while no more
than ten feet away, a group of people speaking French were enjoying the wind
blowing through their hair as they contentedly ate clams. While William led James through the crowd,
they could not travel for more than twenty feet without hearing a talker trying
to get customers to ride a ride, play a game, or see sights of the unusual
variety.
William and James worked their way
through the crowd toward their destination: The Giant Racer on Surf Avenue and
West 10th street.
The Giant Racer was a nine hundred foot long two-track roller coaster
and had been one of the main attractions of the Dreamland Amusement park before
a fire in 1911 burned the park down; but due to its steel structure, the Giant
Racer survived the fire and continued operation.
“Wow, look at how fast the cars
go!” James exclaimed as the Racer came
into view. His pace picked up so that he
was leading his father instead of the other way around.
William looked up at the mammoth
sight before him. If nothing else, the
attractions at Coney Island had the ability to make a man feel small. “They are fast,” he replied. “I hope the line isn’t too long though.”
They got in the back of the line for
the coaster, which, as William feared, was substantially long. As they slowly inched their way forward,
William could not help but overhear an elderly couple in front of him. “I was really hoping to ride the new roller
coaster, but I‘m not waiting all afternoon,” the man said to his wife in an
Irish-accented tone.
The woman shook her head and replied,
“That line was hardly any longer than this one.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think this one’s too bad and it’s a
fun ride. They just keep building new
coasters for more money; the old ones are just fine.”
“I’m sure the new one is fun
too. Maybe we should go back later and
see if the line is any shorter.”
“It won’t be, but we can check,” the
man retorted.
James tugged on his father’s arm and
when William looked down at him, James asked, “Will it really take all
afternoon to ride the Thunderbolt?”
“I don’t know, son. I suppose it might, but let’s just worry
about this line for the time being.”
It was twenty-five minutes before the
two found themselves at the front of the line and they were seated behind the
elderly couple. As the coaster started
to grind its way up the first ascent, William looked over at his son, who had a
wide grin on his face as the cool ocean breeze blew his soft, dirty blond hair
about. When they reached the top of the
ascent, the car paused for a brief moment, letting everyone marvel at the
beautiful view of the beach from such a height, forgetting they were on a
roller coaster for just the briefest of moments, until suddenly the car plunged
down the track. Everyone - the elderly couple included - screamed as their hair flew back
away from their exulted faces. James
somehow managed to yell and giggle at the same time as they went along the
metal track, the wheels of the coaster the only sound besides the yells of the
passengers. When the car reached a sharp
curve, more yells were elicited from all aboard, for they were not sure if the
car was going to turn as it should or if it was just going to careen right off
the tracks. Unbeknownst to anyone currently riding on the Giant Racer, this had
actually happened once in 1911, killing two women who plunged fifty feet down
to the ground. That was not the fate for
this group of passengers, however. They
whipped around the turn, William holding on tight so he would not press all his
weight into his son, as they continued along the path of the track to its
inevitable end.
As soon as the ride was over and he
was on solid ground once again, James realized he had fallen in love. Coney Island was better than anywhere he had
ever been in his life and he had only been there a little more than an hour and
a half. There were people as far as one
could possibly see and they were all there for the same reasons: to be
entertained by the unique sights and smells; to get away from their lives for a
few hours; and most importantly, to enjoy themselves and act like children, no
matter what age they really were. The
sounds of people screaming on the rides, the voices of the talkers promising
the chance of winning great prizes in games of luck, and the feel of the wind
blowing in his face intoxicated the young boy.
And he wanted more.
Right outside the Giant Racer was a
little cart selling Coca-Colas and that was where William and James headed
next. The man selling the drinks looked
to be in his mid-twenties, with bright red hair and matching freckles. It was obvious by his tan that he spent the
entire day outside selling his soda, drinking a few himself when the heat got
to him and the line was small. After
William ordered the drinks, the man looked down at James and smiled, asking,
“Did you ride the Giant Racer?” as he opened the Coca-Colas with a bottle
opener.
“I sure did! It was fantastic!” the boy exclaimed, taking
one of the sodas the man held out.
“Well, there’s plenty of rides here
that are even better, my boy!” the vendor told him. “Make sure you try as many as you can!”
“I will!” James replied as William
led him away from the cart so other people could order their drinks. They stood on the grass looking up at the
people now on the roller coaster, taking small sips of the cold, sweet
drink. When his bottle of Coca-Cola was
nearly exhausted, James asked, “Can we go on the Giant Racer again?”
“We just rode that, son. Don’t you want to try something else? Besides, it took us half an hour before we
got to ride it, and I’m not sure I want to wait that long to go on it again
when there are so many other things to do and see,” William answered.
“Please, Dad. I really liked it, especially going around
that last sharp turn. Can’t we ride it
one more time and then we’ll check out the other rides?” the little boy
pleaded.
Knowing there was no way to refuse
his son anything, William nodded and the two finished their colas and walked
back to the end of the line so they could ride the Giant Racer again.
Robert Daicy
I have been writing off and on since I was eight and it has been something I have always loved to do and wanted to do for a living. I tend to write the stories I want to hear and sometimes those stories have a darkness to them on some level whether they are more suspenseful stories or drama. I like to jump around the genres because I do not want to get bored writing the same thing and because I have eclectic taste. I was born and raised in Maine and have lived there most my life and am currently residing in a Victorian house in Fairfield, Maine
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