The manic, frizzy haired human watched nervously from high atop his tower as the approaching mob gathered closer, their torches providing guidance through the darkness. He feared this day would come the moment the monster broke free of her shackles and slogged through the nearby village. Now, the villagers were closing in on Castle Frankenleia.

The monster was a macabre assemblage of feline body parts, gathered fastidiously by the human himself. A torso here, a tail there, and various organs sewn together which — to even the human’s surprise — worked perfectly. Her defining feature was two gigantic front paws scavenged from a recently decapitated mountain lion. When walking on all-fours, the oversized appendages provided an awkward gait, so the creature quickly learned to walk upright on her hind legs, with her front paws outstretched horizontally.

In his arrogance, the human had assumed he could create life from death; joy from sorrow. And, as it turns out, he was right. He simply failed to recognize the hostile, petulant beast that would be released. All of humanity’s sins — anger, jealousy and wrath, just to name a few — were embodied in one grotesque figure.

But the day of reckoning had arrived. The passionate mob feverously lowered the drawbridge, storming across the moat which had served as the last line of defense between the castle and the outside world. The throng pounded on the door en mass, leaving no doubt those assembled had arrived with a purpose.

The frizzy haired human nervously opened the door, unsure of what to say to his uninvited guests.

“Hello,” he greeted them, as if nothing were amiss. “May I help you?”

The villagers deferred to their leader, a burly human with coarse hands and an imposing presence. He stared directly at his newfound counterpart, keeping his words tight and his intentions clear.

“We’re here for the kitty cat.”

“Kitty cat?” the frizzy haired human replied, feigning ignorance. “There’s no kitty cat here.”

“There is so’a kitty cat right’ere, there is!” a ragged, disheveled human screeched at the top of her lungs. “I seen’er comin’ in ‘ere, I did, with ‘er big giant paws’n ‘er big ‘airy tail’n whatnot!”

As the host and his unsolicited callers chattered, the monster ambled her way down from the tower. Curious at the commotion, she peered around corner, locking eyes with the disheveled human.

“There she is! I told ya she was ‘ere, I did!”

The villagers rushed toward the frightened creature, swooping her up before she could retreat. They handed her off to the burly human who grasped her firmly in his thick, rugged palms.

“Awww… what a cute little kitty witty” he cooed, scratching behind her ears while the others rubbed her tummy and stoked her fur. “You’re so precious! Yes you are!”

“Look at those mitts!” another villager exclaimed! “They’re so huuuuge! I just wanna squeeze ‘em!”

The frizzy haired human could only watch as the adoring crowd continued gushing over his heretofore unadmired creation.

“Let’s call’er Frankenleia,” the ragged woman suggested after spotting the name on a crest above the fireplace.

“What? No! That’s MY name!” the frizzy one shouted to everyone and no one. “I’m Doctor Frankenleia! You can’t just give that thing MY family name!”

He might as well have been talking to the corpses in his lab. From that day forward, the creature was known, colloquially, by her creator’s moniker. Frankenleia, the monster, would inspire generations of writers, filmmakers and kitty cuddlers. She would be adored by millions and her newly acquired name would be synonymous with felines who shared similar features.

The frizzy haired human would suffer a more indignant fate, all but disappearing into obscurity and serving as a side character in his own story. He had selfishly tried to hide his creation from a world that desperately needed her, hoping to lock her away and allowing her to love only him.

In doing so, the human — this modern Prometheus — was, himself, the one true monster.