Edward Scissorhands
[snowandhair]

The old woman sat at the window, her shallow breath fogging up its cold pane. She closed her eyes, reveling in the frostiness, in the pure shiver that ran up her body. This winter seemed particularly colder than the rest, yet still all that more enjoyable. The woman smiled in remembrance, musing on winters past. Outside, the snow had calmed since its initial blizzard, yet the chill remained. Snow blanketed the ground in a virgin white blanket, the downy feathers of an angel's wings. The world seemed liberated, born anew. Roads seemed endless amongst the white; not a car rode by on the hazardous black ribbon. It echoed the starless ebony sky, contrasting the pallor of the ground. The woman did not know such a sight could hold so much curious beauty.

For but a moment, she pulled herself away from the resplendence of the winter, rising from her perch in the comfortable armchair to rest her weary bones by the fire. Her gray hair spilled down her back freely as she laid down on the floor. She had grown her hair long so that she could remember that boundlessness as she aged, so that she could look back on who she once was. The woman was far too aged to enjoy the uninhibited pleasures of her youth. All she could do these days was stay inside her house, longing for the winter to embrace her. Each and every day she watched the snow fall, it called to her. Though she yearned for nothing more than to be able to dance once more, barefoot in

ankle-deep white, the lady had so far been able to ignore the summoning.

Yet this night, the call was stronger than normal. It was irresistible, like the song of a bell, and the old woman knew that she would be unable to resist it.

She sighed, wiping her tired eyes and trying her best not to look out the window. Even now, so many years later, the winter yearned for her almost as much as she yearned for it. he still be out there, after so long? It was the only possible explanation. Winter only came with him. There would be no snow falling, no bitter cold if he was not alive. And there would definitely be no calling. The woman smiled meekly, cradling herself. To be able to see him again, one last time...it was all she had ever wished for.

Now, the calling was forcing itself through her ears, the chimes and whispers growing stronger and forceful. Her heart ached to be out in the cold, to once again be drifting amid the snowflakes — Oh, it was simple unbarable! Before she could stop herself, the old woman got up faster than she had moved in years, making her way toward the door.

The house was dim, quiet, with only the slow ticking of her grandfather clock to keep her company. She made her way through the kitchen to the front door, always mindful of broken floorboards and misplaced chairs in the darkness. As she pressed a wizened hand against the door's cool surface, the woman's heart began to race. The winter was so close... Now, all she needed to do was turn that foreboding knob. But cold brass once again brushed her hand, and before she knew it, a white dreamscape was before her.

Clad in only a nightgown, the old lady found the chill blowing right through her as if she were paper. At first it was a liability instead of the usual embrace. But soon enough, she had stepped, barefoot, onto the snow, smiling at it sunk between her toes. This was one of the few pleasures in life, and she was ready to bask in it until the heavens took her.

The woman soon found footing in the slippery snow, walking and skipping and dancing amongst its splendor. She found herself laughing for the first time in years. With so many snowflakes to waltz with, she could never be lonely! All the thoughts of death and solitude washed away with the flurry. The woman twirled and spun in the night, giggling like the girl she once was. Yet she was the complete opposite — the woman felt reborn. A whole new person in the same old skin.

The neighborhood was completely silent, as usual in the cold, cold night, but now the woman did not care. She had been reunited with her love, and that was all that mattered.

Now, as the wind rattled through her bones, the old woman finally felt complete. She had no strings to guide her, no shackles to bind her. For once, she was free. And as she fell beneath the snow, laughing and squirming and savoring in its splendor, she was invulnerable. Another sigh escaped from her lips, but this time from ecstasy. Her bones were no longer old and brittle; the woman was revitalized, replenished. For not the first time, she wished the winter would last forever.

Suddenly, the soft crunching of boots in the snow roused her from her bliss, making her shiver. Who was it to disturb her at this hour? There were never any robberies in this town, and everyone else was asleep by now. No one could beh ere at this hour...no one who lived there, at least.

Unless...

Startled, the woman scrambled onto her feet, wiping snow from her nightgown and walking towards the oncoming noise. "Who...who is that?" She stammered, her voice weak. "What are you doing here?"

She leaned against her house for support, now feeling the somnolent of age again. Peering around the corner, she saw no one, yet the echo of footsteps drew nearer. Her breath became ragged, scared. It was so close, and... closer... closer... closer... Until she felt the warmness of another's body right behind her.

Abruptly, the woman turned, gasping. "It's...you.."

The woman stared into the face of the boy — now nearly a man — standing before her, looking as shocked as she certainly was. He was exactly the same as she remembered him: edgy, cold, and anomalous. The boy was tall, yet most of his height seemed to come from the unruly mop of raven curls that rose from his head. His face completely contrasted the black halo, stark white and sallow, laden with an array of cuts and nicks. As he shivered, the strange metal shears that replaced his hands clinked together nervously. Despite his awkward appearance, the boy's eyes caught the woman instantly. They were like pools of gray nothingness, thunderous storms chasing one another within their depths. He stared at her with those cloudy voids, and the woman soon found herself getting lost within. She knew those eyes anywhere, and yet she could not match a name...

Slowly, her hand, shaking with age and fear, reached up to caress the boy's face. He stayed, silent as ever, allowing her gossamer touch to envelop him. The old woman traced her fingers down the rigid scars on his face, reveling in the shiver that overcame her.

Unflinchingly, she felt his arm encase her, felt a cool metal edge split the back of her gown. Yet she did not care. She buried herself in his leather-clad chest, reaching down to touch his scissors.

"Edward..." The old woman breathed, choking back tears.

Edward Scissorhands. The lady had thought him lost wit the rest of her childhood, yet here he was, staring her right in the face. Ever since he had left, all who had not witnessed what went on in his company branded him as mere myth and urban legend. All those years, she had tried to believe that he was dead, killed by all that sought to destroy him. In spite of that, the woman knew that he had to be alive. There would be no snow without him, after all...

Their embrace seemed to last for several hours. Inside Edward's warm chest, the woman could hear his heart beat, a magnificent sound. Though it was weak, the continual thudding soon began to rock her to sleep. He seemed so changed...and yet Edward was the same sweet, innocent boy that had found his way onto her doorstep and into the crux of her heart. She had regretted how her mother had saved him then, and had even hated him at times. But their love had grown, flourished, and now it was consummated. As she stood in his arms, the tears now streaming freely down her face, the woman realized that her love for Edward had not died over those long years.

"Kim." He whispered, breaking the unbearable silence, breaking their embrace. "What are you doing out here? You'll catch your death out here like this."

"I came to see the winter, Edward. I came to see you."

"But...how did you know?"

Kim smiled at him, and soon his nervous face was bright with a grin of his own. "I felt it in my bones, Edward. I may be old, but I still know when a miraculous night is to take place. And this is truly a miraculous night."

"Kim, I... I just found myself wandering, searching for something, though I didn't know what. I hadn't journeyed down from that mountain in years, ever since..." He paused, tears shining in his eyes. "I didn't expect to find you here, but I looked nevertheless. ...I don't know what to say..."

"Then don't say anything." She took his hand in hers, ignoring the rivers of blood that trickled down. "Edward... This will be my final winter. I know it. I am getting old, as all of us must do one day. My heart cannot go on much longer. Though I have come to accept that, there is something I must ask of you to make my life complete."

Although he looked momentarily pained, the boy nodded, whispering, "Anything."

"Come. Revel in the winter with me."

And they did. For hours into the morning, Edward and Kim danced and pranced in the snow, new lovers once again. Not a soul was roused in their merriment; it seemed that the whole world slept for them. Though the snow's falling had reduced, the feathery, fragile wonder still piled thick around them. All the woes, all the remorse of their lives washed away in one astonishing night. And as the night slowly faded into morning, they kissed in the snow, innocent and young.

As Kim laid in Edward's arms, whispering devotion and love, life slowly woke around them. Early-risers gawked at the two entwined on the ground, soaking in the snow, yet none dared go near. But when Edward turned his love away, the old woman knew what he was going to say.

"Kim... I have to go. Everyone will notice me here, notice that I've come back—"

"No. You cannot go..." Kim interrupted, "Everything thinks you as just a legend. They won't believe who you are. Edward, you can stay here, start over. I will accept you, and in return, the others will."

Yet Edward shook his head, his tempestuous eyes glistening with tears. "I have to go back to the mountains, Kim."

"But, the winter...there can't be a winter without you. The snow only comes with you."

"And so does hatred and anger."

Kim buried her face in her hands, yet had no intentions of crying. So much had happened at once, so much good heartening her life was too overwhelming to make her cry. She had no reason to cry. After so many years of watching, waiting, wondering, Edward had finally come back into her life. Kim realized that it was not the winter that she had so loved — it was the boy who made it. When she had longed to be reunited with her love, it was not the coldness that enveloped her, the feel of the snow under her feet...it was someone that could share it with her.

And now, her love was leaving. Just like a blizzard, Edward Scissorhands had come abruptly and was departing just the same.

"Don't leave me..."

Edward squeezed her fragile figure, wishing away all the hurt that he was sure to cause. He did not want it to end like this, though he never had never even meant it to begin. All though his life, he had never meant to hurt anyone, especially Kim. But now it seemed inevitable.

Kim pulled away from her love, an unreadable emotion in her gaze. She seemed old again, diminishing. "Edward, there is one last thing I must ask you before both of us depart."

Startled by the cynical words, Edward was stunned for a moment, tongue bound. All he could do was nod.

The woman turned her head to the side, her long, grayed hair spilling over her shoulder. "I know it sounds silly, but all my life I haven't been able to see a pair of scissors without thinking of you. I remember you trimming hairs and bushes and anything in sight...it makes me laugh to think that those many years ago I thought it all ridiculous, impractical." He took the boy's chin in her hands, tilting it toward hers. "Now I regret it. But remorse and repentance will now be enough this time. ...Edward, I have not cut my hair since you left. Though it has grown, it has been slow and steady. Now...I want you to end it."

Edward stared in disbelief. Exactly what was she suggesting?

Kim smiled, the young girl restored with it. "No, I don't want you to kill me. Do not worry yourself. All I ask is that you cut my hair."

For a moment, the woman stroked her flowing locks, as if saying goodbye. Edward stuck out a hand to caress the downy tresses as well, reveling in their softness. But slowly, strand by strand, he wrapped his cumbersome shears around hair, cutting. Snip by snip. It was so unlike his wild and greasy mane, so...free. Unfettered.

And snip by snip, the gray strands of hair fell to the ground to rest upon the white blanket of snow. Kim smiled through every minute of it, the tears brimming at her eyes. Yet she did not allow them to fall; no, they were trapped to the glassy confines of her eyes, bound by Kim's courage. By the time Edward was done, her hair surrounded them like the feathers of broken wings. He remained silent, besieged by the beauty of the vision. The rising sun painted pinks and plums across the star-spotted sky, the plummeting moon casting esoteric shadows. The snow was slowly melting now that the storm had stopped, and the wetness under him was awkward yet comforting. But Kim stared at him, not at the grandeur of the waking day — he realized that she would take him over the grandeur any day... That he had a grandeur all his own.

"Edward," she whispered simply, and her voice held all the love of many years past.

"Kim, I..." He began to rise, yet the look on her face made him slink back down to her. It was a look of ardor, of passion Edward had never seen before.

"Edward, please. Won't you come lay with me? Right here, in the snow. It doesn't matter what the others think... I no longer care. Just lay with me, wrap your arms around me."

This time, Edward just could not resist.

And as the two lovers rested together, a bed of snow and hair cradling them, Kim whispered, "Edward Scissorhands, thank you for making my life complete. That you for making this beauty, this ecstasy. Thank you for making this winter for me."

"Oh, Kim... Can't you see?" He squeezed his arms tight, drawing her nearer. "It wasn't me that made the snow fall all this time... It was you."

Kim's breathing slowed, her body finally drifting to dream. Slowly, Edward raised one scissor hand to pick up a tuft of Kim's gray hair, letting the cold winter wind take it. It caught the breeze and began to soar, separating, scattering into the sky. Edward watched it with a sad, knowing smile. The hair flew, as Kim surely now did, unbound at last.

Unfettered...

[theend]