Ali made it to the top of the hill in no time at all. She was actually surprised she'd done it. She was standing in front of the one thing that was exciting about this town. The one place that captured her attention most.

She reached out and took hold of the cast-iorn gate that was attached to a rickety fence that enclosed the mansion. It was rusted over, which made it hard to push open, but Ali did it. She brushed the rust off of her hands, and stepped inside.

Before the black mansion was a lush garden. It was ironic really. How could such a lovely place be seated in front of a looming, black, gothic mansion? It was unreal. Something out of The Secret Garden perhaps.

Ali was awed at it's beauty. There were countless roses that must have been tended to daily, but by who? There were beutiful hedges sculpted to look like diferent animals. But who could have done this? Surely not someone from the town.

She walked underneath the hedge sulpture of a stag, and made her way toward the mansion. The garden was nice, but that wasn't why she was there.

The door leading to the inside of the mansion wasn't unlocked, so Ali shoved it open. She wasn't much surprised by how the inside of the mansion looked. Everything seemed to be covered in a thick layer of dust. What seemed like machines were scattered about the room. Pieces of forgotten equipment lay on the floor, untouched for years.

Ali ambled over to a machine that had... where thoes metal legs?... suspened above it. She inspected the legs. Looking at them, she realized they had cookie cutters for feet. How odd. She walked down to the other end of the machine, passing more of the legs. On the other end of the strange machine was a type of oven. Was this a cookie-making machine?

The idea was mad, but then again, wasn't this whole place?

She picked a small device up from a nearby table. It seemed to be several different pairs of scissors connected to make a hand, or something like one. Ali touched the blade of the outer pair, pricking her finger.

"Ow." She looked at her index finger as small drops of blood leaked from the wound. "Dang it." She wiped the blood from her finger and continued on.

She walked up an old staircase, careful to hold on to the railing. There was no telling if these stairs could support much weight. Finally, she was on the second story. It was just as dusty, if not dustier than the first. There was a shattered window in the wall opposite her. There was some odd red stain on the glass. What could that be from?

Ali went forward and spotted a small bed laying on the floor. It's matress was made completely of straw. Ali couldn't help but think about how uncomfortable it must be. Beside the bed was some sort of collage. Pictures and newspaper clippings were pasted onto the wall. By the looks of it, the collection must have been growing for some. But there was that question again. Who could have done it?

She read some of the clippings, finding some that were not even over three weeks old. Mmmm. It made her wonder... She fingered with a photo that was becoming loose when she heard the unmistakable sound of a footstep behind her.

"Hello", she yelled through the room, hearing her voice echo off the bare walls. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

No one could have been there. There weren't any signs of life except for the bed and collage. And the garden. Could someone really be living here? The idea scarred her. She could have intruded into someone's home, and that someone could be prepared to kill her at any second.

Ali remembered a story she had heard when she was only in second grade. It was a story that had somehow been forgotten for nine years, but now returned to her suddenly.

The story was about a monster who lived in the mansion on the hill. The monster watched all the people in town, waiting for one brave soul to venture up to his lair. And when the person entered his home, the monster would kill them, without thinking twice about it.

Of course, Ali never really believed that story. She had even told the kid who had told her the story there was no such thing as monsters. And that story made her notice the mansion, didn't it? She couldn't ever remember taking notice of it before that day.

Ali shuddered. What if the story was real. What if there was a monster here? A killer? She was almost afraid to turn around, but she did. And when she did, she heard a strange snipping sound. She backed against the wall. The snipping was just outside the door. Did it know she was here? Had it been watching her?

She wanted to disappear. She wanted it all to be a dream. And when the maker of the snipping sound came through the door, she couldn't even scream.

She could see that the monster was no monster but a man. She saw a glint of metal in the beam of sunlight that was shining through the window. She wanted to scream, badly, because she knew what that metal glint was from. They were that strange scissor contraption she had found downstairs. They were an exact copy. And they were attached to the ends of his arms where his hands should be.

He moved each pair of scissors back and forth like fingers. But that was all Ali could see. The rest of him was hidden in the shadows. But they scared her. She though of the pricked finger and of all the damage they could really do. Every fiber of her being wanted to run, but she was planted firmly to the floorboards.

The man stepped into the sunlight. He was as pale as a sheet with multiple scars covering his face. His hair was inky black and was piled on his head in a wirey fashion. He wore what looked like a leather suit.

Ali swallowed hard. The man was watching her closely. She knew she had to run. She just had to. If she didn't no one would ever find her. Her mother thought she was at Tess's!

So she ran. She was nearly out of the room when she fell over a loose board in the floor. The man came toward her as she scrambled to get up. Once she managed to get to her feet, she fled the room, ran down the stairs, and escaped through the garden. She slammed the gate behind her and took off down the hill, fear still pulsing through her veins.

But if Ali would have stayed just a moment longer in that room with the man, she would have heard him whisper in a soft voice, "Please. Don't go."