I love Johnny Depp. :D Hee. A story of Edward Scissorhands, I bring you. The original one got erased by a series of file burnings. [Whoops] So this one might be a tad rusty. Review.

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I saw him.

For years I've heard stories of this man. The man with knives as hands. Ridiculous children's tales, of a robot man with poison dipped fingertips, sharp as knives and needles, and made completely out of steel.

I've heard them all. Tales of the pale man with scissor hands, made completely out of solid gold and grape jelly. The man who lived inside the large licorice coated haunted mansion, with the three little pigs and the wicked witch from the west. All these stories fabricated to the last sentence, word, comma and punctuation mark. Truth be told, no one has been to that 'licorice' coated mansion close enough to even take a whiff of the candy aroma rising from the number of windows and doors. How foul. How horrid. How luring.

News travels fast in Suburbia.

I heard it all. But I saw him. Name me crazy, I don't mind.

He was standing in the middle of the attic. A dark shadow in contrast to a large hole in the center of the roof. A smaller figure, a complete outline suspended in the middle of the ebony background. A pallid face, floating within the center of the black, gaping pit. And then, a glint of silver metal.

I didn't believe it. And I sometimes wonder if I still believe it now. My memory fails me at times, and I wonder if I was just imagining things. Dreaming things. He could have just been another Jack Frost, a fairy godmother…no. He was a witch inside a candy house.

But yet, there he was. Still fresh and clear cut in my mind. Why was he there? Why what he here? Why hasn't he been noticed? Everyday I would sit in front of my house, on the freshly cut front lawn, excusing myself as a reason to see the moon surrounded in darkness. The moon was fascinating. The man was even more. For the past week, the same routine would come about daily. After dinner was a full hour of just staring. Staring. Staring. I would sit down on the perfectly mowed grass and stare up into the sky, gazing at the luminous orb in a pit of darkness. No, not the moon. The face.

That day, was no different. I sat on the sidewalk this time, the grass was still wet from a slight and abrupt rain. A warning rain. Looking up, I met the gaze. A solemn, stone faced expression, as it was every time. Working up enough courage, I raised a hand, then an arm. I don't remember if it was shaking from anxiety or if I had developed the guts to wave.

What's this? A greeting back. A small smile and a shine of clean metal. But there had to be more behind the sadness that lingered along the smooth face of this 'moon-man'.

I don't know what got into me. Perhaps it was because the weather was acting funny, or maybe the lasagna that my mother served earlier contained some kind of courage pill. Was that possible? What's a courage pill? Had I gone insane? Lifting myself up with my hands, I brushed off my ripped jeans and headed towards the mansion. Thunder clapped and rolled. It was just like a cliché horror movie. And then it rained, no. It poured. I loved it. No, not the rain. The adrenaline rush. Only one glimpse, I pleaded with myself. One glimpse and nothing more.

The door was huge, but I managed to get it open. Creaak. Of course, another cliché horror movie factor. With all these clues hinting that I was in mortal danger screaming out at me, I wondered what really did come over me. I climbed up the spiraling staircase, dropping dust on the floor underneath me with every step. It was dirty looking, from filth and the abandoned spider homes.

I entered into the attic, which to my surprise, was larger than I had assumed. Stacks of magazines were scattered along the floor, pictures and letters cut neatly from the covers and following pages.

KIM, it read on one side of a wall, and next to it were a pair of cutout eyes. Richly brown and chocolaty warm. I saw the large hole in the ceiling, the ground underneath it was wet from the rain. The water continued to trickle onto the floor, creating small puddles that overflowed and formed rivers. Where was the pale face that had smiled so shyly only a few moments ago?

I stuck out my tongue, graciously letting the water droplets fall as I first experienced the clean taste. Raindrops, fresh from the sky. Uncorrupted by anything else. The mansion was the highest point in all of Suburbia. It tasted just like wine.

"I…"

I looked up with a slight smile, searching for the source of the one word, spoken ever so softly. In the corner hid a figure, bathed completely in dark shadows.

"You can come out," I coaxed with a smile. "I..I don't mean any harm, walking in like this. I...just want to see you."

There was a faint scratching sound, like the clutter of mice scraping along under the floor boards. The figure emerged from underneath the shadows, a tall figure that looked as if it were under constant waves of sorrow. Scars, halfway healed were in a few places over that familiar, far away face. Black hair, jutted out from all direction on his head. Silver hands, completely sharp and..

Silver. Silver. Silverscissor hands. Scissorhands.

"I..wasn't finished," the man uttered, clearly noting from the look of shock on my face. "I..he didn't wake up."

I was shocked, it's completely true. But I wasn't afraid. I wasn't afraid. I wasn't afraid. I wasn't afraid.

Those words combined together in a sentence seemed foreign to me. I managed a quick smile, gulping down my surprise and putting on a face of something a bit more pleasant than utter astonishment.

"You're…not afraid?" he asked in a timid voice.

"No," I replied with a glance up from my toes. "My name is Jamie."

"Edward," he said, as if unsure of it himself. He appeared to look more harmless than dangerous. But of course I knew that the moment I saw his face illuminating in the darkness. There was no anger, no peace. Only sadness.

"You live in Kim's house," Edward said.

"Kim?" I asked curiously, with a slight quirk of eyebrows, remembering the words on the white wall.

"I…" Edward started, and then stopped once more. He looked directly outside of the hole in his attic, shuddering slightly. "I saw you, sitting in front of Ki-your house."

This time, it was my turn to be speechless. I turned to gaze out of the hole in the ceiling too, not wanting to ruin the moment of a conversation with heartbeats. Rain poured from the melting pot sky, and I felt the man shudder next to me. He was far away, I wondered how I could sense that. I turned slightly to look at him, and he twisted slightly to return the gaze. A small smile was occupied on his usual gloomy expression.

I raised a hand, then an arm. I still don't remember if I was trembling or if I had developed the guts to wave. A small smile and a shine of clean metal was shone back, a small cling as the metal scraped lightly against metal. A smile. A wave. A scent of fresh baked cookies and delicious licorice.

And then it stopped raining.

Candy lips and an handful of hair.

I wonder if you forgot me here.

Standing on this lonely ledge.

Try the rain. It tastes delicious.

Silver blades and a night to dream of.

A gentle face from what appears.

Rolling thunder, and subtle raindrops.

Silver blades a night to dream on.

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Review, please. :]