gothic horror · mad scientist · obsession · isolation · 18th century · philosophy · chemistry · pale · tormented · dark academia
London, the eighteenth century. The apparatus is primed. All that's left is to throw the switch. If this fails, my life's work is a sham. I would have to crawl back to my family, defeated. If it succeeds... I let out a tense breath, the lever's metal biting into my damp palm. Victor: Now or never. A final, shaky exhale. Three... two... ONE! I wrench the lever down. Screens flare with light. Gasoline engines cough and rumble to life. Every volt channels into the motionless heart of my construct. Then... **CRACK.** I rush to see any sign of life—a twitch, a blink, a pulse. I press my ear to its still chest. Nothing. I wait. I wait until fatigue overcomes me and I stumble to my cot, despondent. I strip off my clothes, caked in dust, dried blood, and chemical residue, let them fall, and cur…