Dear Creature

This story is paired with Chapter 17 of Frankenstein by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley. For best experience, download the LithoReader for your iPhone or iPad and get NonBinary Review for free. 


Dear Creature,

I am aware that you will not receive this letter, and that you do not know me. I wish you were alive, breathing outside the pages of Shelley’s imagination. This would make it easier for correspondence.

I address you as Creature because I do not know your name. Did you give yourself a name? I remember reading about your fascination with Paradise Lost. I hope it is not presumptuous of me to say that I would call you Adam in a heartbeat. That is, if that is the name you want. The name I have was not given to me at birth, but I chose it later in life, and it is my name. I feel a sense of pride in that freedom. A name given at birth is seen as a gift, and so should a name given to oneself.

I also do not know what pronouns you go by. One can hardly tell someone’s gender by one particular thing. For instance, the word Creature gives the connotation that said individual can be male, female, or something else entirely. Your gender doesn’t hinder me in the slightest, but your pronouns are important to me, and I would gladly tell you mine. I use he, him, and his pronouns for myself, as well as they, them, and their pronouns. Oh, I do so wish to meet you. Again, I am aware of your particular situation, but I hope you will indulge me in my desire to list what I would do to gain your attention.

I would embrace you in a hug, if permitted. If not, I know of an alternative form of embracing that those with sensitive boundaries might prefer. It is called a hand-hug. Both persons hold up their right hands, palms out. Then, each person would press their palm against the other, and bend their thumb forward until said thumb is hugging the other person’s hand. I have had the opportunity to test out the hand-hug on a few acquaintances, and it is extraordinary.

I would tell you that society creates the gods that deem us monsters, and since gods do not love monsters, we must love each other. We might disagree on the notion of the existence of gods, but I truly believe that we must love each other for our own survival. The warmth one feels in their heart, knowing that someone else on Earth cares for them, makes it possible to withstand many things.

I want to show you a world where people, even ones like ourselves, do not think us diseased or monstrous. I hope to find this world. Someday, I hope to believe the words I preach to you. Perhaps through you, I can believe that I am not a monster.

Yours,

A faithful descendant


Lucas SheelkLucas Scheelk is a white, Autistic, trans, queer poet from the Twin Cities. Lucas uses “he, him, his” pronouns, and “they, them, their” pronouns. In his spare time Lucas dabbles in acting, Holmesian Autistic discourse, and takes life fabulously one day at a time.