Authors note: I just wanted to take a moment to thank all of the people so far who have left some very kind reviews for this story. Some of them have disabled messaging so regrettably, I am unable to thank them directly. Whoever you are: you have my sincerest appreciation. From the bottom of my heart: thank you!
And he is free, strangely without me
With his head still browsing the greenness,
He walks slowly out of the pasture,
To enter the sun of his story
It did not seem to matter how many hours ticked by, Edward never really felt the urge to sleep. He had found that he didn't really need it. He could go a great many days without resting at all if need be.
The same could be said for food. While he was living with Kim and her family, Edward had never refused a meal given to him and ate it gladly out of politeness. But he never required it.
It was a strange thing to behold. Before Peg Boggs had taken him down to the Suburbs, Edward thought he was the same as any other person, save for his hands. (Or lack of.) But of course, it wasn't until he actually began to live among others when it occurred to Edward just how differently his body worked.
He did not need sleep. He did not need sustenance. But most puzzling of all, he never seemed to age.
Age is what had taken the life of his creator. Perhaps it was just as well that he had left Edward without it. Though now it seemed that his son had been left incomplete in more ways than one.
Was there anything outside or within Edward that made him human at all?
Or was he simply another one of his father's machines, made to spring to life like a clockwork toy?
Furthermore, how many pieces had been put together and taken apart just to make him? How many failed attempts and wasted time did it take for Edward to become exactly as he was now?
How many versions of him had been built, only to be destroyed, to pave the way for his existence?
In an attempt to quiet these rising, existential thoughts…. Edward found himself leaving the darkness of his castle and stepping out into the light of the garden.
It was early morning. The sun was just rising, casting painful beams upon Edwards gaunt and ghostly countenance.
Edward averted his eyes to slink away into the shadow of the Castle. He had grown so accustomed to sunlight, only to be repelled by it once again.
But once his dark eyes did adjust to the light before him, he found that his garden animals had fallen into an unkempt state.
Edward soon managed to put his loud mind to rest as he lost himself in his work, busily trimming and cutting away at the stray branches and leaves which had grown on his many creations.
By the time he had snipped the last leaves from the large, green stag, he had almost forgotten what had troubled his mind so.
It was now mid-day and the heat was becoming faintly intolerable. The suburban warmth did not agree with the dark, black leather which bound his form together.
Edward took a seat on the steps of the Castle and studied his handiwork with a small smile. It was a clear day. The baby blue sky opened up and gave Edward a lovely vision of the town below.
The town which had once welcomed him, only to turn him away.
It still made Edward sad to think about it from time to time. But the pain of rejection and isolation had been dulled by the passage of time.
Soon enough, Edward's mind came back (as it often did) to his creator. If he could tell him all which had happened down there, he surely would. He wondered just what would the old man have thought?
There were parts of the tale which Edward was certain the Inventor would have loved to have heard. How he had made so many friends…. even a girl who had once told Edward she loved him.
But Edward's memory soon and inevitably landed upon the fight which had taken place in the attic of his father's home. With a shameful glance, he looked up at the shattered window above his head.
He could still find bits of broken glass in the garden if he looked hard enough.
Everything had happened so fast. Edward hadn't really meant to kill anyone….
But it had happened all the same.
Dropping his gaze down to his knees in shame, Edward gave a long sigh. If Jim had not died on these grounds, things might have turned out very differently. But thanks to his misplaced protectiveness for Kim, he had condemned himself to a lifetime on this hill, at the very least.
Perhaps in one hundred years, when everyone within living memory of the incident was dead and gone, maybe then Edward could go down to that town again and reintroduce himself to the populace.
Start over, as though nothing had ever happened.
But for now, Edward did nothing more but close his eyes and breath in the fresh, mid-day breeze.
He was traveling backwards again.
A brand-new pair of legs had allowed Edward to wander out the front door of the Castle and into the garden. As he stepped out into that light, so many bright and alluring colours assaulted his senses at once. A bird flew fast upwards, drawing Edward's gaze up to it. And up there, he saw a great, blue canvas bending far over him, stretching and spiraling into endlessness. The rays of the sun caressed Edward's face with much-needed warmth.
The bright colours of the autumn day were reflecting and swirling in his wide and curious eyes, beholding its beauty with a look of pure joy. He could barely discern all of the beauty before him.
Standing by the castle steps, the Inventor had been quietly watching his creation in the shadow of the tall mansion with a bright smile on his old face. To witness Edward as he looked upon the world for the very first time was something he feared he would not live to see.
How wonderful it was...just this once, to be wrong.