I am in love with Frankenstein. The dark and eerie tale painted across the pages yells to me to take the jump. To open to the first pages and get lost within the black splotches of ink that create the words.

To become one with the characters and to try on their shoes. To feel the pain and sadness, the anger and hunger for revenge. To experience the electricity of knowledge. A piece of knowledge more heavy and powerful than any known to enter the human mind. To try to fully immerse myself in their world; to breathe their air and finally, have to try even harder to bring myself back out to my reality.

What lays within the pages is a reality. It is different though, one of many thousands of realities created by the pen that lay within the glossy covers of a book.