The WereWolf's Curse
Even a man who is pure of heart
And says his prayers by night
Can become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms
And the moon is full and bright

This depiction of purgatory was inspired by the Divine Comedy, a epic poem by Dante. Now if you were to ask the average person if they know any Dante they would probably look at you as if you were nuts. However most everyone does know and excerpt from Dante: Below is the Writing that resides over the gates of hell...I bet some of it looks familiar.

THROUGH me you pass into the city of woe:
Through me you pass into eternal pain:
Through me among the people lost for aye.
Justice the founder of my fabric mov'd:
To rear me was the task of power divine,
Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.
Before me things create were none, save things
Eternal, and eternal I endure.
All hope abandon ye who enter here.
excerpts Divine comedy

And of Coarse the Monster Of all Monsters. Most people don't realize however that the monster of Frankinstein was not the one created, but the one doing the creating.

From the personal journal of one Victor Frankinstein
May17th
It was a strong effort of the spirit of good; but it was ineffectual. Destiny was too potent, and her immutable laws had decreed my utter and terrible destruction.
mary shelley
frankinstein

Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck of colour about him anywhere. He held in his hand an antique silver lamp, in which the flame burned without a chimney or globe of any kind, throwing long quivering shadows as it flickered in the draught of the open door. The old man motioned me in with his right hand with a courtly gesture, saying in excellent English, but with a strange intonation.
"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own free will!" He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue, as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone. The instant, however, that I had stepped over the threshold, he moved impulsively forward, and holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed cold as ice, more like the hand of a dead than a living man. Again he said.
"Welcome to my house! Enter freely. Go safely, and leave something of the happiness you bring!" The strength of the handshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in the driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted if it were not the same person to whom I was speaking. So to make sure, I said interrogatively, "Count Dracula?"
Dracula
Bram stoker)

The words of the poet,
the sounds of the harp,
the joy of people echoed.
The poet told how the world
came to be, how God made the earth
and the water surrounding,
how He set the sun and the moon
as lights for people
and adorned the earth
with limbs and leaves for everyone.
Hrothgar's people lived in joy,
happy until that wanderer of the wasteland,
Grendel the demon, possessor of the moors,
began his crimes.

excerpts beowulf