Story.
Nadezhda was walking down the street, whistling happily to herself, and praying that she would not meet any strangers in the alley before she got home. It was nighttime, and she hated to be out and alone at night. So she whistled to try to drive away her fear, though she suspected it only alerted the robbers and rapists of her presence.
Suddenly, she saw a shadow before her — knives on the fence beside her. She froze. She had known this would happen; why had she been so stupid to just go out by herself in the dark?
But from the shadows emerged a figure dressed in a strange black suit, with wild uncombed hair, and a beautiful pale face. He looked surprisingly frightened and instantly apologized for having scared her.
No longer afraid, Nadezhda asked: 'But who are you? What is your name?'
'Edward,' he said meekly.
'What are you doing out here by yourself? It isn't safe. Here, come with me.'
And so she took him by the wrist, oblivious to his scissorhands, and brought him to her house.
There, she could look at him closely in the light. She sat him on a couch and stared into his pretty face. 'You're gorgeous!' she said. She did not seem to notice his numerous scars.
He did not say anything. Thinking that he was just shy, she continued: 'My name's Nadezhda and I live here by myself. I work in a café near here. It isn't a glamorous job but it pays the rent. How about you? Do you work?'
'No.'
'Oh, but why not? You have to work to eat. And you must be hungry, and you look cold, so I'll fix you some chicken soup. Does that sound good? It heals every sickness you know. Is there something the matter?' She noticed that he did not look happy. 'I know I'm not rich, but my home is a nice one. Do you not like it?'
'It's very pleasant,' he said quietly, 'but I was looking for someone.'
'Oh? Who's that?'
'Her name is Kim.'
'Ah, really? What a pretty name. Well it really is rather late at the moment, and so it would be rather unwise to continue your search this very moment, you know. Just let me feed you, then you can get some sleep and in the morning be on your way. Is that all right?'
'Yes, thank you.'
She went into the kitchen and began fixing him the soup as promised. She watched him carefully, wondering what was wrong with her, that had compelled her to invite a stranger into her house — especially since he did not seem to want to be there at all. But he looked perfectly innocent; not only that, but he was beautiful. 'That's it,' she thought, 'the only reason I'm doing this is because he's so incredibly good-looking.'
She presented him the bowl and sat down in a chair opposite him. It was then that she realized that his hands were knives, and that he could not possibly eat the soup. So she got up and gave him a rather large spoon and asked him if that would be all right.
'Yes,' he said, 'thank you.'
'So,' she asked almost immediately, 'who is this Kim?'
He fumbled with the spoon as he answered: 'She is a girl I used to know, a long time ago. She was the most beautiful girl in the world. I don't know what happened to her. She left me all alone in my castle, and that was many years ago. I waited and waited for her. But she never came. So I am trying to find her.'
'But why did she leave you?'
'I don't know. I always thought that she would come back. But she never did.'
'Then I'll help you find her,' Nadezhda lied. She was instantly jealous to hear that this gorgeous man was in love, and that she didn't have a chance with him. 'But maybe she's dead.'
He dropped the spoon, and all the soup went flying onto the carpet and table. 'I'm sorry.'
'It isn't important. But she might be dead. Why else would she never have returned?'
'Kim couldn't be dead,' he said fearfully.
'But why not, Edward? Everyone dies. It's a fact of life. And there is only one other possibility that would explain why she hasn't returned. Maybe she loves somebody else, and she doesn't care about you anymore. She's probably forgotten about you completely. After all, you said it's been years. And that's only if she isn't dead.'
Edward tried desperately to hide his fear and grief. 'I'm sorry, but that can't be true. She loves me. She told me that she loves me.'
'Well, women are fickle and temperamental. They change their minds all the time. I'm certain that she loved you then — but she probably doesn't love you now, if she's still alive. That would explain why she hasn't come back to you. She stopped caring and didn't want to tell you. So she just left and never came back.'
Edward was too horrified to eat his soup anymore; the spoon still lay on the carpet at his feet. He did not know which was more awful — that Kim should be dead, or that she should not love him anymore. Very painfully, he decided that Nadezhda was right. There were no other explanations. He must save himself from still more grief, and must stop searching for her.
'Then it must be true,' he said mournfully. 'I won't look for her anymore. I don't want to know if she is dead, and if she doesn't love me, then she won't want me to find her.'
'I'm sorry, Edward,' Nadezhda said soothingly. 'But you can stay with me, if you like. I can help you feel better. I hate to see you in pain like this.'
In truth, it did hurt her to see him so lachrymose. Yet, simultaneously, she was secretly rejoicing; he had already abandoned this girl Kim! She pitied him, that he was so impressionable and gullible. 'Such a sweet and innocent man,' she thought, 'and terribly gorgeous.'
'I'll stay, if you want me to,' Edward said.
'Yes, I'd love for you to stay with me,' Nadezhda replied. 'And you can stay for absolutely as long as you please. You can stay forever if you want; it wouldn't bother me a tiny bit.'
Edward nodded absently. Feeling somewhat ashamed, she left him there to sleep on the couch. She thought maybe he would like her better if she was not overbearing. She took one last look at his handsome face before shutting off the light and leaving.
He lay on the couch, not sleeping, but thinking. He stared up at the ceiling, but all he saw was Kim. He could see her red hair flickering in the wind, and her eyes shining with a light all their own. He could see her laughing and smiling.
He could see her eyes turning towards someone else; she looked only at this other person; she looked at him longingly, as though she could think of nothing else.
He saw her tombstone, glittering a sinister silver, surrounded by green trees whose roots sucked their nourishment from the earth which concealed her casket. He could see flowers dying on her grave. He could see the name fading from the tombstone onto which it was coldly engraved: KIM.
Nadezhda was filled with joy when she remembered the events of the previous night. This morning would be much different from the others; no more loneliness for her; instead, a beautiful stranger awaited her. She rose to meet him.
There on the couch was the same figure, in his unusual black suit, and his face as pale was before. But she never remembered having seen the red.
Red! It was a pool of blood around his head, and a hideous gash across his neck. She was too horrified to scream. The last thing she noticed before she fainted was that his scissorhands, too, were stained with blood which glistened under the rising sun . . .
Nadezhda was walking down the street, whistling happily to herself, and praying that she would not meet any strangers in the alley before she got home. It was nighttime, and she hated to be out and alone at night. So she whistled to try to drive away her fear, though she suspected it only alerted the robbers and rapists of her presence.
Suddenly, she saw a shadow before her — knives on the fence beside her. She froze. She had known this would happen; why had she been so stupid to just go out by herself in the dark?
But from the shadows emerged a figure dressed in a strange black suit, with wild uncombed hair, and a beautiful pale face. He looked surprisingly frightened and instantly apologized for having scared her.
No longer afraid, Nadezhda asked: 'But who are you? What is your name?'
'Edward,' he said meekly.
'What are you doing out here by yourself? It isn't safe. Here, come with me.'
And so she took him by the wrist, oblivious to his scissorhands, and brought him to her house.
There, she could look at him closely in the light. She sat him on a couch and stared into his pretty face. 'You're gorgeous!' she said. She did not seem to notice his numerous scars.
He did not say anything. Thinking that he was just shy, she continued: 'My name's Nadezhda and I live here by myself. I work in a café near here. It isn't a glamorous job but it pays the rent. How about you? Do you work?'
'No.'
'Oh, but why not? You have to work to eat. And you must be hungry, and you look cold, so I'll fix you some chicken soup. Does that sound good? It heals every sickness you know. Is there something the matter?' She noticed that he did not look happy. 'I know I'm not rich, but my home is a nice one. Do you not like it?'
'It's very pleasant,' he said quietly, 'but I was looking for someone.'
'Oh? Who's that?'
'Her name is Kim.'
'Ah, really? What a pretty name. Well it really is rather late at the moment, and so it would be rather unwise to continue your search this very moment, you know. Just let me feed you, then you can get some sleep and in the morning be on your way. Is that all right?'
'Yes, thank you.'
She went into the kitchen and began fixing him the soup as promised. She watched him carefully, wondering what was wrong with her, that had compelled her to invite a stranger into her house — especially since he did not seem to want to be there at all. But he looked perfectly innocent; not only that, but he was beautiful. 'That's it,' she thought, 'the only reason I'm doing this is because he's so incredibly good-looking.'
She presented him the bowl and sat down in a chair opposite him. It was then that she realized that his hands were knives, and that he could not possibly eat the soup. So she got up and gave him a rather large spoon and asked him if that would be all right.
'Yes,' he said, 'thank you.'
'So,' she asked almost immediately, 'who is this Kim?'
He fumbled with the spoon as he answered: 'She is a girl I used to know, a long time ago. She was the most beautiful girl in the world. I don't know what happened to her. She left me all alone in my castle, and that was many years ago. I waited and waited for her. But she never came. So I am trying to find her.'
'But why did she leave you?'
'I don't know. I always thought that she would come back. But she never did.'
'Then I'll help you find her,' Nadezhda lied. She was instantly jealous to hear that this gorgeous man was in love, and that she didn't have a chance with him. 'But maybe she's dead.'
He dropped the spoon, and all the soup went flying onto the carpet and table. 'I'm sorry.'
'It isn't important. But she might be dead. Why else would she never have returned?'
'Kim couldn't be dead,' he said fearfully.
'But why not, Edward? Everyone dies. It's a fact of life. And there is only one other possibility that would explain why she hasn't returned. Maybe she loves somebody else, and she doesn't care about you anymore. She's probably forgotten about you completely. After all, you said it's been years. And that's only if she isn't dead.'
Edward tried desperately to hide his fear and grief. 'I'm sorry, but that can't be true. She loves me. She told me that she loves me.'
'Well, women are fickle and temperamental. They change their minds all the time. I'm certain that she loved you then — but she probably doesn't love you now, if she's still alive. That would explain why she hasn't come back to you. She stopped caring and didn't want to tell you. So she just left and never came back.'
Edward was too horrified to eat his soup anymore; the spoon still lay on the carpet at his feet. He did not know which was more awful — that Kim should be dead, or that she should not love him anymore. Very painfully, he decided that Nadezhda was right. There were no other explanations. He must save himself from still more grief, and must stop searching for her.
'Then it must be true,' he said mournfully. 'I won't look for her anymore. I don't want to know if she is dead, and if she doesn't love me, then she won't want me to find her.'
'I'm sorry, Edward,' Nadezhda said soothingly. 'But you can stay with me, if you like. I can help you feel better. I hate to see you in pain like this.'
In truth, it did hurt her to see him so lachrymose. Yet, simultaneously, she was secretly rejoicing; he had already abandoned this girl Kim! She pitied him, that he was so impressionable and gullible. 'Such a sweet and innocent man,' she thought, 'and terribly gorgeous.'
'I'll stay, if you want me to,' Edward said.
'Yes, I'd love for you to stay with me,' Nadezhda replied. 'And you can stay for absolutely as long as you please. You can stay forever if you want; it wouldn't bother me a tiny bit.'
Edward nodded absently. Feeling somewhat ashamed, she left him there to sleep on the couch. She thought maybe he would like her better if she was not overbearing. She took one last look at his handsome face before shutting off the light and leaving.
He lay on the couch, not sleeping, but thinking. He stared up at the ceiling, but all he saw was Kim. He could see her red hair flickering in the wind, and her eyes shining with a light all their own. He could see her laughing and smiling.
He could see her eyes turning towards someone else; she looked only at this other person; she looked at him longingly, as though she could think of nothing else.
He saw her tombstone, glittering a sinister silver, surrounded by green trees whose roots sucked their nourishment from the earth which concealed her casket. He could see flowers dying on her grave. He could see the name fading from the tombstone onto which it was coldly engraved: KIM.
Nadezhda was filled with joy when she remembered the events of the previous night. This morning would be much different from the others; no more loneliness for her; instead, a beautiful stranger awaited her. She rose to meet him.
There on the couch was the same figure, in his unusual black suit, and his face as pale was before. But she never remembered having seen the red.
Red! It was a pool of blood around his head, and a hideous gash across his neck. She was too horrified to scream. The last thing she noticed before she fainted was that his scissorhands, too, were stained with blood which glistened under the rising sun . . .