Welcome to the final heartrending episode of Mary Shelley's immortal masterpiece, Frankenstein. It is chilling to envision the palpable despair, the indomitable rage, that surfaced in the eyes of the forsaken creature, to imagine the haunting echoes of Frankenstein's fervent entreaties, his poignant sorrow veiled by a front of stoic resignation.  In his final letters to his sister Margaret, Walton recounts his agonizing encounters with the monster, leaving us in awe of the profound depth of their intertwined narratives, stark yet sympathetic, that splashed onto the canvas of Shelley's unparalleled genius.

The creature's existence, once belittled and outright rejected, now looms over us—impossible to deny and unfathomable to accept. His voice, littered with profound sorrow, anguish, and fierce indignation, wrings our hearts and captivates our senses like never before. Shelley's cruel world does everything but cradle this being, deemed ugly and therefore unworthy.

It's not just about the inexplicable bond between the man and his creation, for Frankenstein's impact on us transcends the confines of his personal recount. His words breathe life into a melancholy testament of human ambition and hubris—a labyrinth of profound ruminations on power, creation, abandonment, and vengeance, the harrowing tale of a life seemingly doomed from its very conception.

Listeners, as we walk through the shadow of Frankenstein's despair, we cannot help but ponder—who truly was the monster—Frankenstein or his creature? Is it the one who dared to play God or the one created, who was heartrendingly abandoned by his creator? 

Remember to hold steadfast to your courage—for the end of Frankenstein's narrative is as chilling as the icy desolation he braved during his final days.