Hello and Welcome to my first full length short story. What your about to read is unlike anything you ever read before. This is a tale full of mystery, death, tragedy, and rebirth. So come into the parlor. Grab yourself a cup of tea and a nice velvet cushion, the story is about to begin.
Disclaimer: I do not own Edward, or the Inventor nor do I want to. They belong to the great Tim Burton. It was his mind the created them not mine.
I can't believe I found something buried within the heart of this old mansion on the hill. Well the "castle" now. People told me I was a fool for even thinking about coming up here. Some swore up and down that this place was haunted by the ghost of a lost boy who's tears formed the snowflakes that fall upon peaceful suburbia year after year. Others warned me of a scissorhanded monster created by a mad scientist with a sick vengeance against humanity. I've been told how it roams the streets at night searching for fresh blood. I've even heard a story from one of the oldest residents of suburbia about a white face, black haired, lustful, ice demon...Yeah that was my thought as well?
As the story goes the ice demon cursed this town with a blanket of everlasting snow year upon year after it was forced back into the darkness of this castle by a brave, noble prince that wore local colors and a leather jacket. Silly huh? I still think the lady's a bit off her rocker if you ask me, to come up with a story like that. My favorite parts of this weird tale are when she told me that the ice demon enchanted a young girl to fall in love with it, and like every other fairy tale i've ever heard the girl helplessly fell for it. The other was the end of this crazy tale. That once the ice demon was trapped inside this castle, it called out to her, beckoning her to follow it into the darkness. Under the spell of the beast the girl ran to the castle followed by the brave prince. He knew that he must save the helpless girl from the evil lusting demon. In the end the brave prince and the monster killed each other and the spell that the girl was place under was broken.
Wow! What a story. The old bat even clamed that the girl cut off the right hand of the demon as a trophy in honor of her fallen prince. How sick do you have to get to even think about stuff like that! I mean really, come on. The old battle axe claimed that the story was all real, that she saw the beast as a child! That he lived in her neighborhood! Yeah, im just going to write this one off as the effects of dementia on the elderly mind. I've never believed in old ghost stories and I don't intend to start.
So now here I am, siting in a huge high back oak chair. Surrounded on either side by dusty, age-worn, tombs full to the spine with lost, forgotten knowledge. There so many here! There must be hundreds ranging on just about any and every subject. You could spend days looking over information on bio mechanics then turn around and read some of your favorite fairytales, but none of that matters compared to this.
An ancient red felted journal. The book itself is a work of beauty, with its highly oriented golden rims framing a name unknown to the hand crafted lion head locks binding the book on either end of its face. I found that the locks after close examination where in fact both beautiful and functional. Inside their small heads are a series of tumblers and cogs. I find this most impressive. The months of the lions actually open and close, allowing these little beast to swallow the opposite end of the gold tipped leather, forever sealing away written secrets that only the author was to know. Amazing!
After awhile of admiring this astounding testament something can to me, Who owned this book? No doubt it's a journal but who did it belong to? Taking in a deep breath of the stall, dust filled air I blew upon the aged journal cover. The dust flew everywhere. Like magic a name appeared hand written in gold letters. "Journal of Vincent Loveless"
"Vincent Loveless? Why does that sound so familiar? Oh I remember learning about him a few years ago in high school. He was a brilliant inventor that supposedly made the first mass producing cookie making machine. Unfortunately very little is known about him after the death of his wife and son. Its rumored that he want mad, isolated himself and died right here in this very castle. Hehe...Maybe its his ghost that haunts the place."
After awhile of giggles the room went silent but the silence was interrupted by a sound that truly startled the girl. The sound of something or someone moving swiftly through the shadows. A scream slipped from her lips. Without thinking twice she flung the flashlight she was holding and the book in to the air, allowing them both to hit the dark floor.
"Holy Crap! What was that! Calm down, this place is older then dirt. It was properly just a rat or something. Im not going to let my childish fears get the best of me. There's no such thing as monsters! Stupid hack, trying to scare me out of coming up here with her stupid stories."
Cursing as she bent down to pick up her flashlight, something caught her eye. It was the book! Its locks popped open from the impact of the fall.
"Oh crap I broke it!" I thought to myself as I picked up the book, I had to made sure no harm came to this grand wonder when I noticed something's written on the inside cover. "To my beloved Vincent, may your ideas become the creations of your dreams, love always, Emma."
"I shouldn't read this. It belongs to the Inventor, Vincent Loveless not me. It wouldn't be right. Even through I would love to find out what this place was like back in the day. I still can't. Then again I bet yeah its full of his ideas and plans of some of his inventions. There might even be original plans to the famous cookie making machine! I could be rich for finding them! No, I already did to much harm, I should put the book back where I found it and leave. This place is really starting to mess with my mind, personally its creeping me out."
Just as the girl was about to leave the great aged room a gust of wind blew through the top half of one of the broken windows, flinging loose papers and dust everywhere. In a matter of seconds the wind came and went. When the dust and papers finally settled down, the girl opened her eyes and saw that the journal in the rust of the wind was blown open, revealing the first few pages. Curiosity getting the best of her, the girl approached the open book on the table and glanced down quickly at a page.
"My boy Edward, I can't believe he'll be 21 years old in a few weeks." Edward? Who the heck is Edward? I never heard about him in any textbook. Where's all the plans and ideas? The only thing written in here are just words, nothing else.
Maybe I should read it, I don't see in any harm in it. Besides I want to find out who this Edward is. Just the first few pages that's all. I just hope Vincent can forgive me.
With a silent prayer to the old inventor and a head full of excitement. The girl found a comfy spot on an old Victorian chaise loveseat. Reading the forbidden journal with nothing more then a flashlight tucked under her arm and the light of the full moon shining through huge curtain clad gothic windows.