-www.scenetime.com-the.bride.of.frankenstein.1935 -

"Go," the Bride hissed, her first and only word. "Go… away."

And the Bride, in her final moment of conscious thought, watched the "-www.scenetime.com-" screen flicker and die. A window to a world of stories, closing forever. Because some stories, like the one in that lightning-blasted tower, were never meant to have a happy ending. Only a perfect, tragic, scene time . -www.scenetime.com-The.Bride.Of.Frankenstein.1935

The Jacob’s ladder crackled to life, a jagged river of pure energy leaping from the copper coils to the iron crown encircling her head. The room screamed with light. The Bride’s body arched off the table. Her bandages tightened, then loosened. "Go," the Bride hissed, her first and only word

She sat up, her white gown falling around her. She saw Henry. She saw Pretorius. Then she turned her head with a slow, mechanical click. Because some stories, like the one in that

He touched her arm.

Her form lay on a slab, swathed in linen, wires trailing from her porcelain fingers. She was a jigsaw of the dead, but Henry, corrupted by the sinister Pretorius, had given her the face of an angel. Alabaster skin. Lips the color of a dying rose. A streak of white lightning seared into her raven hair.