Day 910

What they don't tell you about Frankenstein's creature is how the pus oozed between the stitches whenever he moved, puddling at his feet wherever he stood or sat. He was covered from head to toe in yellow rivulets that had already soaked through his clothes and shoes, leaving damp footprints wherever he went. With every blink he tried to clear his eyes of the constant stream of discharge from the sewn up gash across his forehead. It almost looked like he was crying.

What they don't tell you about vampires is just how inhuman they look when they don't have a steady food source, how their skin hangs in great drooping folds and how they have no stomach, only a mess of intestines that diffuse blood into their body at an unparalleled rate. Their skin changes colour, from a healthy complexion to wax in a matter of bloodless days at such a rate it can be seen with the naked eye. Most have gone without blood for years at a time to maintain the illusion of humanity, consuming our food and watching with silent horror as particles of their meals begin to visibly clot their skin.

What they don't tell you about werewolves is that they can get stuck in their full moon form, something too distinctly human to be a wolf but at the same time still not recognisable as a human. Their minds flashing from either end of the spectrum, human one hour and animal the next - altogether incapable of surviving beyond a day, too conflicted to do much more than scream and howl at the sun rises. It's an unspoken rule among their communities to kill them out of mercy, rather than leave them in a constant state of mental fluctuation that their full moon form can't handle. Better they die quickly rather than drag it out until they overheat and pant themselves to slow asphyxiation.