By Vivian Amobi
Writing Frankenstein for a teenage audience
It was a dull night in November, I had completed my work. I accumulated all the equipment that I would use to breathe life into the lifeless monster on the ground; I was so nervous that I was nearly in pain. By one in the morning, the rain fell gloomily on the windows. My candle was about to go off, when I saw the yellow eye of the monster open. It breathed in deeply and an unexpected motion vibrated his limbs.