Thanks to Laseri, Geckogirl, Riel, and Kerri Driscol, and to Geckgirl I am not against people who write those fics, I just wanna do sumfin different, believe me I have read my share of them. I cry almost everytime I watch the ending and I have dreamt about a happy ending many times. Maybe I should do another story where he get's finished, that's what usually happens in my head. Please excuse any grammar errors,
It was the worst winter they had had in years. Temperatures at an all-time low. The snow seemed to never cease. Within a week, there was at least four feet of the stuff powdered across their lawns. The schools were out a week early for the buses couldn't get through. As soon as the streets were cleared up there was a fresh new layer littered on the ground.
Some of the older residents of Suburbia seemed to know exactly what was going on. While the younger more youthful neighbors complained and shoveled and cursed the skies, the elders seemed to blissfuly go about their ways. They sat in their houses, watching it come, sometimes glancing at the house on the hill, which strangly seemed to be bare of the stuff. Nonetheless, it didn't seem to stop. Well into december, they had gone a fortnight without a rest of the falling flakes. Cristmas decorations went up. The Annual Assembly of The Christmas Tree came and all of the houses sparkled symmetrically, perfect as always.
Edward, it seemed, had forgotten how to do anything but carve. He worked day and night, never stopping. Soon the attic was filled with a silent wonderland of sorts. In the corner was an Angel, her hands held a single a rose. There was a Cristmas tree, complete with ice trimming and a star on top. An Elephant stood on it's hind legs, stampeding motionlessly. There was also a young girl, her hair blowing, her arms stretched to the sky. Joining her was a Robot, a table and chairs complete with plates and silverware, which had been especially difficult to finish, a small tree, and a clock.
The clock stood six feet tall. It had been his most recent acheivement, apart from the cat he was working on in the moment. He finally sagged his shoulders and climbed down from his ladder. It seemd now, he didn't know what to do with himself. How long could it go on like this? He usually stopped shortly after the Christmas lights came down, which on some occasions had stayed up well into February.
He knew he would have to stop. He realised he hadn't even seen it yet. Flinching slightly, he made his way to the Window. Eyes open wide, he gazed distantly at the white wasteland. It was beautiful. He wondered if Kim had seen it. Something told him no. He couldn't figure out what. It was like a pull in is chest and an emptiness in his head. What would happen now? Would it keep going on like this?
Edward suddenly thought of something. Something new. He had normally stayed in his attic, occasionally going to check of the topiaries in the garden. There were many rooms left unexplored in the mansion. Rooms his father had never let him see. He sometimes remebered his father. He remebered that moment when he had first opened his eyes. There was a small shock and a click in his mind's eye and suddenly he came alive.
He remebered not being able to move. He slowly figured out how to move his arms up and down. Facsinated by the metal blades he saw, he had brought them up to his eyes. His father watched exitedly, eyes edging him on. He looked down. His body ended suddenly, and where legs and hips and feet would be there was nothing but space.
Edward thought of some simple experiments that they had gone over those first few weeks. learning how to speak, move your tonge to the words you thought. He had learned to move his face, enjoying when his father applauded him, almost as if it was a game.
Making his way down the stairs and into a hall, Edward decided on a favorite door of his. It was tall and ornate. Decorated with intricate designs and fragile swirls and shapes. He was careful to never touch it, not wanting to scar the design. He knew something important was behind it. A feeling he hadn't felt for decades flowed through him. A feeling that one forgot about when living a clockwork life. Anticipation.