BLACK BAG 

by Michelle

What does it take to make a great spy thriller? Forget about big explosions, lengthy car chases all around the world, overuse of scenes relying on computer work, and tons of fake blood after more fatal face-offs than targets on a shooting range. It turns out, this is all you need:
To start, take six spies (two couples and one married couple), give them a boss who appears only on a few but important occasions, add a seemingly simple but eventually very intriguing and complex main conflict, throw in an intense dinner party, a big touch of vintage, almost film noir styling, clever camera work and a simple but very catchy and fitting and atmospheric music theme.
Now come the main ingredients: a cast of seven brilliant actors, fitting their screen characters to the teeth, who simply KNOW how to act, and a director who simply KNOWS how to set up and direct a great story. 
And that's how you end up with Stephen Soderbergh's Black Bag.

To say I was excited to see this film is an understatement. One of my favourite actors playing in it, the genre and the intriguing trailers made me believe this wouldn't be just another Hollywood thriller. And I was right; it was so much better.

The premise of the story is quite simple: George (Michael Fassbender) finds out there is a mole in the special agency he works for. There are five suspects among his colleagues - including his own wife Kathryn (Cate Blanchett), a cold-blooded spy herself, yet absolutely devoted to her husband. But of course, because no spy on a separate, secret mission can discuss anything related to their mission with anyone not involved (they have to "put it" into a black bag), George has to keep his task to find the mole secret even from his wife. In his quest to find clues as to who the person he is looking for is, he employs an unusual tactic for the start - he invites all the suspects for dinner at his house...

Everything that evolves from that point is a series of very engaging, sometimes humorous, but above all highly suspenseful events, heavily presented by excellent use of clever dialogues, gradually revealing not only the leads to the mole's identity but also (if not even more) the flaws and weaknesses of the individual characters, making some of them re-evaluate their own life choices.  

While watching this film, I couldn't help but smile at how much it gave me the vibe of the golden, bygone era of most of the crime and spy thrillers of the 1950s-1970s. The main focus of those was on psychology and the exploration of the human (or inhuman) side of the characters. Since a very young age, I have loved films like Three Days of Condor, Wait Until Dark, Charade, In The Heat of the Night or All the President's Men, and they all carried these traits. While watching Black Bag, I felt like I was transported back to those times, while still watching a contemporary work as powerful, interesting and relevant as any of them. 

At the time of writing this, the film is still in the cinemas, so to avoid spoilers, I won't focus on the details of the plot and will mention only some of my personal highlights:

- Tom Burke
For me (honestly without any bias), the greatest element of this film. His versatility always astounds me, but it's the way he can conjure up any mood and behaviour of a character that gets me the most (from a drug-spiked and often hilarious guy with a problem to keep his hands off other women than his girlfriend, all the way to an angry and desperate man, feeling like an emotional loser). There are a few scenes in this film that are absolutely golden, mainly because of him. Once you have watched the film, you will understand. Besides, Freddie (his character) is technically the only character who breaks the tension at times, having the most amusing lines in the film 😁

- the dinner scene
I heard so much about it before watching the film that it was probably the scene I was looking forward to the most. It was fantastic!! Think of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? meets any great Agatha Christie detective story. The way Soderbergh and the writer David Koepp used dialogue here is absolutely masterful. Sometimes you don't know which actor/character to watch more: Fassbender's razor-sharp interrogative poker face, Naomie Harris's conflicted emotions, Marisa Abela's sadness and disappointment, Regé-Jean Page's part-suspicious and part-disbelieving nervousness, Burke's playful teasing and ease (and appetite) at first and anger and despair next, or Blanchett's mostly silent and observant coolness making you feel like you're watching a fox in a hen house, looking for its next victim? The twelve-or-so minutes of this scene are sheer delight, reveal a lot about each character and are some of the best in cinema history. And what happens at the end of it is... well, as unexpected and "whoa!" as hilarious, considering Burke's reaction! 😂😂

- the cinematography and lighting throughout the entire film

Peter Andrews (although surely guided by Soderbergh himself) did a marvellous job behind the camera. From long shots (following various characters in the same cut), to a range of wonderful angles and close-ups of faces at decisive moments, the brilliant use of camera makes many scenes feel quite intimate and yet fully focused on the characters, as if not wanting to miss a second with them on screen.
It has become fashionable in the past decade or longer to use little light while shooting, possibly to create a darker and more intense atmosphere. Luckily, Black Bag is anything but dark to the eye. Even in the evening scenes, you can still see everyone and everything perfectly clearly without often straining your eyes to decipher what is happening on the screen. Without the loss of colours and light, the intensity and suspense are still there. Another example of how you can make a modern atmospheric and tense thriller by using traditional lighting methods.

- Cate Blanchett's supremely cool and mysterious character portrayal

Until the very end, you don't know what side Kathryn is standing on - the good or the bad. Blanchett plays the cool-headed and self-assured (more than less) agent aware of her superb spy skills really to perfection.

- the polygraph test scene
Together with the dinner scene, this is my favourite. Using a similar rhythm although having the characters separated, the suspense created in these few minutes is absolutely brilliant, and it's great to watch each character unwillingly reveal more of themselves as people. 

- the performances of the whole main ensemble

Regardless of whether it's the screen veteran Pierce Brosnan (as the head of the agency), big names Blanchett and Fassbender, the British long-time miracle Burke (patiently waiting at Hollywood's gates), or any of the other main cast members creating this intricate web of spies, they are all at the top of their game - each very different but highly interesting.
Big ensemble films can be a curse sometimes, with not matching the right people with the right skills, but Black Bag is definitely not the case. 

- the final reveal scene

Agatha Christie comes to my mind again; it's an absolute joy to watch. And Freddie's line (and Burke's delivery of it) to his girlfriend (Abela) after the main "event" is... another moment to die for!😂😂

Not since Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy have I enjoyed a spy thriller as much as this one. It's a fresh and modern story with a beautiful touch of Hollywood's golden era (which, I admit, I am a deep admirer of).

I can't wait to watch Black Bag again... and again... and again... And I'm overjoyed that Soderbergh put it out in its first run only in the theatres and not straight on the streaming platforms, for it will definitely be released on DVD/Blu-Ray and I will be able to get it and watch it any time I want, and not having to rely on streaming subscriptions left, right and centre.

Yes, you can call me old-fashioned, but maybe some things shouldn't follow the mainstream just to please. Sometimes they should swim against it.

Just like Black Bag.

The Seagull by A. Chekhov
(the Barbican Theatre, 2025)

    I probably should have done it after being stained with fake blood at the end of Richard III with the excellent Martin Freeman in 2014. I should have done it even more after Benedict Cumberbatch blew me away as the Danish prince in Hamlet in 2015. This time, I will definitely do it, no excuses, because what I've witnessed on the afternoon of 5th March 2025 in Barbican Theatre in London was nothing short of spectacular. Not reflecting on it would be a travesty concerning my memories, feelings and perception. So this is my first written reaction ever. Because I do want to remember every bit of this performance forever...

Maybe I should start with the title - The Seagull, a play by Anton Chekhov, which I read mere days before the performance to get me into the frame. I liked it, so naturally, I was curious how it would translate onto the stage, especially having heard about it being a very modern take on the classic. There are instances when I'm not very keen on modernising classics on stage or screen, but if these adaptations are done with taste, class and wit, I am more than happy to watch and enjoy them. I am happy to say that Thomas Ostermeier's modern version of The Seagull falls into the second group, and I literally couldn't take my eyes and ears off the stage.

I've always loved big productions on stage, with wonderful set designs and period costumes. However, I have loved good storytelling even more. Sometimes, all you need to create a miracle is a brilliant source material, a  few deckchairs, a table, a bit of fake green and a few great actors. In this case, ten extraordinary actors from which to pick the best one would be probably impossible (without being biased). Admittedly, the actor who "made me" want to see this play was the inimitable Tom Burke, who has been one of my all-time favourite actors for a while now. Finding out that Cate Blanchett would lead the cast made the prospect of seeing my first theater play since 2017 even more enticing. What I didn't expect was that all ten cast members, including the likes of James Watkins, Emma Corrin, Zachary Hart and Tanya Reynolds, would give us all a masterclass in acting, each in their own style and way, but each leaving a great impact in my mind.

The Seagull is not an easy play, although at least half of it is every bit a comedy. Its themes of unrequited love, loneliness and unfulfilled ambitions are as relevant today as they were when Chekhov wrote the play. It's equally as hilarious as dark and tragic, in more than one way. However, I (and my husband, too) didn't even notice how those almost three hours flew by and were totally engrossed in the story and the exquisite performances by the whole cast. The director did a brilliant job by modernising it and still retaining the original dialogues and essence of the original play.

Putting aside the storyline, here are some of my favourite moments from this particular performance (no spoilers for those who are still about to see the play, or read it):

- the beginning of the first act, mirrored at the beginning of the third act... Zachary Hart being hilarious without even saying a word at first 😂 

- Tom Burke's first line in the play, especially its delivery - properly cracking up the entire auditorium (I don't think I've ever been more excited about hearing an actor finally say their first line when finally having the chance to watch them on stage, and this one was so worth it!)

- Tom Burke's shorts... to be precise, two pairs of them and bathing trunks... I sent my friend a photo (from the Internet) of Tom sitting at the table in his shorts and her first reaction was "Were you close enough? In the audience I mean, ahem." My answer? "Yep, close enough..." 😂 Just kidding, although we were sitting pretty close to the stage LOL 😂

- Tom Burke's inimitable and glorious way of expressing humour, heartache and narcissism in equal measures

- Tom Burke... Because this man makes every scene in which he says at least one line his own, and because no real explanation is needed. Period.

- Cate Blanchett making Tom Burke almost unable to say one of his lines with another hilarious improvisation - making him chuckle every time he tried to say the line; he finally managed it on the fourth go! 😂😂 (I just loved their interactions, the funny ones were to die for!)
- Cate Blanchett's epic energy (it's my wishful thinking that I'll be as energetic and flexible at 55...) and singing skills!
- Cate Blanchett's hilarious, often hysterical yet fitting (I suspect) improvisations -  appreciated not only by the out-of-character grins and chuckles of her fellow cast members

- Jason Watkins', more precisely his character's hilarious dislike of the countryside and managing to shock and make not only the audience burst into laughter in the most serious moment (his whole performance was excellent)

- Emma Corrin's beautiful portrayal of a naive, poetic and consequently lost soul

- Zachary Hart's brilliant singing skills!

There were more, but I would be writing essays on it... However, I will mention one more, a very poignant and moving moment between Tom and Cate that will stay with me forever and once again, I was reminded that actors are only humans too... 

In one of the emotionally charged dialogues between Arkadina (Cate) and Trigorin (Tom), there are a few strongly emotional lines from Arkadina, as she feels she's losing her lover to another woman. When she says she is just an ordinary woman, Trigorin's response is "No, you're not. You are extraordinary." 
After those words, Cate was supposed to go on, but her voice suddenly broke, and she went down to sit on the floor, hiding her face in her hands. I think she was hit by the truth of her own lines (if you read or watch the play, you'll know which scene I'm talking about), either having experienced something similar in her own life, or unexpectedly being hit by the sadness of those words. You would literally hear a pin drop, it was that quiet in the audience.
After a few seconds, Cate made a little movement with her hand to Tom, saying "Sorry". Tom remained quiet, standing in the exact same position in front of her, with the same calm and understanding facial expression, graciously and knowingly letting her take her own time to recover. She said sorry a few more times, then turned toward the audience, still sitting on the floor, wiped away a few tears and started repeating the same lines, but this time in a very different voice - quiet, almost broken, making them raw, even more real and human than before; it didn't feel like acting at all. Tom's empathy and impeccable intuition shone once again as he adapted his own voice and repeated his lines more quietly, too, gently playing along with her way of getting back to the place they were in before. Maybe it was just me, but I felt strong ambiguity in his words; the "You are extraordinary." hit very differently the second time around...
After that, a few more beautiful but painful lines followed and I thought, it was Cate's best delivery in the whole play, very natural. And then she slipped back into her role, as if nothing had happened.

No one can write a moment like this. It comes unexpectedly, without warning, and one really has to witness it to understand the true impact of what these actors often deal with in real time in front of hundreds of spectators day after day.

I seriously didn't want it to end, wishing I could watch it go on forever, but maybe that's what great art is - making you want to stay in the world which in many ways resembles your own, even though it is not. 

I agree with my husband: there is nothing comparable with feeling the actors on stage so close to you and making the story's world real to you... I would add that there's also nothing like the energy and emotions filling the air around you, coming from the stage. No TV or cinema screen can replace the live contact between the actors and the audience, when you can literally smell the characters' joy and happiness, or grief and depression, boredom, silliness, or thoughts of evil or despair permeating the air around you. And especially, when you expect the inevitable to happen and still are struck as if by lightning when it happens... 

I often think it's such a shame that the moment the actors leave the stage, everybody in the audience rises and rushes to get out of the theatre. I wish I could stay sitting for that little bit longer, so I would be able to process everything I have just witnessed, which would allow me to transition to the reality unhurried and able to think about what I've seen. It feels like finishing a film on TV and the credits, instead of starting to roll, they are cut off, and the next image you see is from some commercial. So, as we climbed the stairs on our way from the auditorium, following the crowd, I was trying to hold on to as much as possible, trying to keep all the memorable, hilarious and deeply moving moments of brilliance from just minutes ago safely in my mind. 

As I was about to take a photo of the huge poster outside the theatre, taking out my phone, I noticed my hands were shaking. Only for a little while, but still... I never had such a powerful reaction to a performance of any kind. 

I wish I could see it again. I wish I could tell everyone involved in this production what a stunning job they've done. However, I am grateful that I got to witness greatness up close and personal, adding one of the most precious moments into my memory box.

And that is definitely something to treasure and remember forever. 💓

I See The Light - Beauty and the Beast TV series fan video

by Michelle

Merry Christmas, Jenny Aronson

by Michelle

The inimitable Miss Jenny Aronson was walking briskly along one of the countless pathways in Central Park lined with elegant, vintage-style streetlamps, reminiscent of the long-gone eras. She rubbed her hands together, trying to escape the chill creeping into her bones. It was one of the coldest days that year, frost creating masterful patterns on the railings, benches and wherever its artsy fingers could reach.

Why on earth did Cathy insist on meeting here instead of round mine or hers, or some cosy little café where we could sit comfortably and warm and swoon over some handsome guy at the next table?

The question remained unanswered, but Jenny had known Catherine Chandler for many years and learnt that often, especially in the last few years, there was often no rhyme or reason to Catherine’s actions. She wasn’t complaining, though. It had been only a few months since Jenny had found out her dear friend was not dead indeed, and the shock and extreme joy of that revelation still hadn’t properly worn off.

She stopped to glance at her watch, buried under layers of her gloves, an oversized sweater and a long cobalt blue winter coat she had just bought herself for Christmas as a treat for a difficult year.
“One o’clock sharp,” she said out loud and looked up at the pathway again, her teeth chattering. “I’m here, Cathy. Where are you? You really could come on time before I turn into Frosty the Snowman.”
“I am on time,” a soft voice coloured with amusement replied behind her.
Jenny swiftly turned around. “I bet you learned that from Kristopher,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “I swear you appear and disappear like a ghost lately!”

With a beaming smile, she walked into her friend’s heartfelt hug.
“Why on earth here, today out of all days? Don’t you watch the weather forecast?” Jenny inquired, rubbing her arms to warm up.
Catherine chuckled. “Um… not lately, I’m afraid. I’ve been a bit busy,” she said with an enigmatic smile. “And I wanted to meet here because it’s the closest to where we are going.”

Jenny was intrigued and tilted her head. “As far as I know, there’s no cosy retreat where they serve at least half-decent coffee anywhere near here, especially not on Christmas Day…”
“Well, about that… I know of a place just like that,” Catherine replied and intertwined her arm with her friend’s arm. “And since your mother couldn’t make it to New York for Christmas this year, I thought we could spend it together.”

“Oh, Cathy!” Jenny was overjoyed. “I hope you opened my present this morning.”
“Of course,” Catherine chuckled. “I love the book, thank you! I’ve always had a weak spot for Blake.”
“Don’t I know that,” Jenny remarked, rolling her eyes. “You kept reciting To The Evening Star throughout the whole Radcliffe years!”
“The first edition you gave me is all the more appreciated because I know how much you had suffered back then,” Catherine replied, grinning.
“You are forgiven, but only if you get me some hot drink. I’m freezing here!”

Catherine laughed and pointed toward the drainage tunnel entrance in front of them.
“Your wish is my command, but first, I have something to tell you,” she said quietly, looking around. There was no one in sight. “But not here,” she added, gently pulling Jenny’s arm, making her follow inside the drainage tunnel.

When they stopped at the closed iron gate, Catherine turned to her friend. Jenny was confused, to say the least, searching the unusual place suspiciously.
“Cathy, what are we doing he---“
“You must promise me you’ll never tell anyone about what I’m about to tell and show you now. Lives depend on it.”
Those words got Jenny’s full attention. “All right… You have my word.”

Catherine took a deep breath.
“I guess we better start from the beginning. Do you remember a few years back when I got attacked and cut with a knife?”
Jenny frowned, shuddering at the memory. “Of course, I do. How could I forget my best friend almost being killed? You were missing for ten days after it happened. You said you don’t remember what happened to you.”
“Well… That’s the thing,” Catherine said and reached for the lever to open the gate. “I do remember…”

※※※

They were walking through the tunnels – Catherine assured and talking, Jenny listening with half-opened mouth and wanting to ask something now and then but being too amazed to do so.

“So… correct me if I’m wrong, but basically, you’re saying there is a world under our world where people live as we do?” Jenny asked when Catherine finished her narration.
“In a way… not exactly as we do, because obviously, they had to come up with various ways of how to get access to some electricity, fresh water, find a way to heat their rooms, get regular food supplies and so on without the world Above finding out about them,” her friend explained.
“I guess the food comes from the… Helpers, as you called them,” Jenny pondered.
“Yes. I am one of them.”
“Did you become one as a thank you for them saving your life back then?”
“Partially,” Catherine agreed. “But once I learned more about the whole community, their values and how they help each other, I wanted to be part of that world, at least in some way.”

She stopped and turned to Jenny, smiling. “They’ve changed the way I see life and people today. I’m not the same person I used to be.”
Jenny smiled too, squeezing Catherine’s arm. “I’ve noticed that for a while,” she said. “They obviously have done well by you.”
“Yes… It took Father a little while to start trusting me because…” Catherine paused. “Well, it was a bit of a rough start but I’m glad we’ve become very fond of each other since then.”

Jenny smiled, then narrowed her eyes. “Why do I have the feeling there is something more?” she asked.
Catherine chuckled, knowing she couldn’t hide the truth any longer.
“Because there is more, actually, the most important thing…”
“This person you mentioned that found you in the park… Am I right when I assume it was a man?” Jenny grinned.
Catherine’s smile widened. “Yes,” she replied.
“A young man?”
“Relatively young.”
“A relatively young… handsome man?” Jenny grinned again.
There was a small hesitation on Catherine’s face, but then her lips curled into a smile again.
“To me, he’s beautiful.”

Jenny noticed the tenderness in her voice and a special warmth in her eyes.
“I think I really want to meet this guy,” she said then, genuinely curious.
“You will,” Catherine assured her, as they resumed walking. “In fact, he’s the main reason why you are finally here.”
“I don’t suppose he’s looking for a companion,” Jenny teased, making her friend laugh.
“Unfortunately no. He’s already… taken.”

Catherine’s look was eloquent, and Jenny’s excitement threatened to spill over.
“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, grabbing her friend’s arm. “How long has this been going on? Since he saved you? Why did you never tell me?”
“I will explain everything,” Catherine stopped the flow of Jenny’s words, chuckling, “but there will be time for it later. First, we meet Father in his study. Every person who gets involved in the secret of the world Below needs to be approved by the Council first, and Father is the head of it. You are lucky to have such good recommendations,” she teased, “so he approved you without problems, especially once I told him you could help supply the Tunnels with not only the latest literary works. It’s still polite to introduce you to him first.”
Jenny beamed. “What would I ever do without you, Cathy?”

She swallowed a lump forming in her throat, remembering her despair a few months back when she believed her friend was dead.
“Probably hunt for your next male victim,” Catherine quipped. “Anyway, we’ll probably meet a few other people on the way, so try not to be overwhelmed.” She resumed walking, but suddenly stopped and pierced her friend’s look.
“Oh, and Jenny…” Her look was serious. “Behave.”
Miss Aronson raised her eyebrows, and her lips curled into a cheeky smile.
“Catherine Chandler,” she said. “When have I ever not?”

※※※

The Great Hall was buzzing with activity and cheer. The cool air was permeated with mouth-watering smells of various delicacies from William’s kitchen, candle wax and warming mulled wine.

“The Helpers have outdone themselves again,” Jacob Wells senior remarked with gratitude before helping himself with another sip of his mulled wine. “I know, I say the same each year but I genuinely feel so each year.”
“You all deserve nothing less,” Catherine said warmly, touching his hand. “And it only shows that the values of the world Below spread further than you can imagine.”
Jacob patted her hand, and their eyes met. “I am so happy you are a true part of this world now, my dear.”

Jenny, sitting opposite them, watched their exchange with interest and a gentle smile. Something about the interaction reminded her of the way Catherine used to be around her own father. Jenny met him only a handful of times, back in their Radcliffe days, but the warmth and genuine care and love between father and daughter was obvious. She was glad that Catherine, after losing both her parents sooner than expected, had found paternal love and support in someone else.

“Where is Vincent, by the way,” Jacob suddenly inquired. “He better hurry or there won’t be much food left, especially if Mouse managed to smuggle Arthur in here again.” His eyes nervously skimmed the familiar faces, sitting at the long, festively set tables.
“Vincent?” Jenny sensed the door finally opening to solve the only riddle left to her.
Catherine opened her mouth to speak but then smiled and looked back at the patriarch.
“Jacob needed a bit of attention. They will both be here… at the right time.” Her look spoke more than her words.
“Oh… of course,” the old man said, nodding. For a while, he forgot that Catherine hadn’t revealed everything to her friend yet.

Jenny was confused. How many Jacobs are there in this place?
She didn’t have much time to ponder because Catherine turned her attention to her.
”I think the time has come for you to learn the rest,” she said more earnestly. “I have known and loved you for about half of my life and I trust you with it.  What you’ll hear but mostly see now will be something you mustn’t tell anybody Above… well, Joe knows about it and Diana…”
”Joe?” Jenny interrupted her, with mouth open wide. “And who’s Diana?”

Catherine shook her head. “Never mind, I’ll explain later, but you must promise it will remain a secret. As I told you before, lives depend on it, especially one…”
Jenny’s eyes were honest when she spoke. “I swear, you can trust me, Cathy.”
”All right,” Catherine replied, nodding. “You asked about the man who saved my life back then. Well… he’s the father of my child, the child which was born while I was in capture.”

Miss Aronson had experienced several surprising, some quite shocking moments in her life. However, the statement she had just heard robbed her of all appropriate words.
”What…? I mean when…? How?” Coherence suddenly became a foreign word for the woman who could talk one to death on her best days.

Catherine sighed and smiled. “I was very early on before the kidnapping so I wasn’t showing yet. That came later… And I didn’t tell you because I had only known it for a few days before… “ Her voice faded, remembering the darkest period of her life. A sudden wave of guilt hit her. “And I am really sorry I didn’t tell you since my return, but I had a good reason, as you will soon see… Anyway… Our son was born healthy and with the help of a few dear friends, Joe being one of them, we were reunited with him.”
”Cathy, that’s… incredible!” Jenny exclaimed, squeezing her friend’s hand from across the table. “Where is he now? Can I see him?”  Her initial shock quickly gave way to excitement.
”He lives here, as do we, and you will see him very soon,” Catherine beamed.

Jenny exhaled loudly and leaned back against her chair, her mind reeling. Over the last two hours, she had to process a lot of next to unbelievable information but this was bordering on fantasy.
Cathy rescued by a mysterious stranger who lives underground, falls in love with him and they have a baby, and I had no idea about it!

Jacob was silently watching their conversation. Jenny’s genuinely happy reactions strengthened the good impression of her he gained from their first meeting in his private quarters. Her intelligence, kind heart and empathy shone through, as well as her great sense of humour and enthusiasm for anything positive in Catherine’s life. However, the real test was yet to come…

“So, when will I finally meet the mysterious Mr X who made this all happen?” Jenny asked after a brief pause. “Where is… Vincent?”
”I apologise for being late,” a deep, gravelly and unusually soft voice said behind her, “but Jacob was a bit restless and needed a little time to settle down.”

Jenny’s mouth curled into a wide smile and half-opened to reply, but the moment she turned around to see the owner of that magnificent voice, words got stuck in her throat.
Vincent watched her calmly, with a small smile, holding his son in his arms - the baby was blissfully napping on his shoulder. Despite his extraordinary appearance, Vincent’s imposing, tall and graceful figure, great warmth and intelligence in his deeply set blue eyes impressed the young woman immensely. She also noticed that nobody in the Great Hall seemed shocked or surprised by his presence and appearance.

“I’m happy to finally meet you, Jenny. Catherine told me a lot about you over the years,” Vincent said warmly and outstretched his hand to her.
The stunned Jenny laughed, accepting the offered hand. She noticed the claws on it but didn’t comment on it.
”Not more than I am,” she replied, enchanted, and he could read in her eyes that she meant it.

“A lot of things make perfect sense now.” She glanced at Catherine, completely understanding her friend’s significant withdrawal from social life and secretive nature over the past few years.
”Vincent is my adoptive son, Jenny,” Jacob senior remarked, with a proud smile.
Jenny raised her eyebrows, connecting even more dots, then looked back at the lion-man. \“I have hundreds of questions but I guess most of them are irrelevant or can never be answered, so for now, could I just say that you are positively… fascinating?”

Vincent chuckled, glancing at Catherine, who couldn’t stop smiling. Jacob was fighting off a stubborn tear - he had hear several words people used for his son’s appearance but fascinating was not one of them.
”Michaelangelo’s Pieta, da Vinci’s Mona Lisa or Shakespeare’s Hamlet… those are fascinating, but I would never use that adjective with myself,” Vincent remarked with a small smile.
”Modest and artsy, are we?” Jenny teased and winked at Catherine, making her chuckle.
”Speaking of art, just wait until you see the painting Kristopher left me,” Catherine added with an enigmatic smile.
Jenny’s interest was aroused even more. “You never said!” she exclaimed.
”You’ll understand why once you’ve seen it.”

Miss Aronson exhaled loudly, her brain a little overwhelmed.
”I have a feeling you two could write a whole novel about the past almost three years,” she pondered aloud, making Vincent smile.
”If anyone can write here, it’s Vincent,” Catherine remarked with a dreamy smile. “He’s wonderful with words… Maybe you can make him do it, even though I’m afraid, you could never get your publishing hands on this one.”
Jenny pierced Vincent’s eyes. “Give me an hour and I can make you do anything, my dear.”

Hearing that comment, even Jacob chuckled, filled with relief, and enjoyed seeing Jenny enthused about his sleeping grandson in Vincent’s arms.
”I must confess I had my doubts when you suggested introducing her to Vincent in this direct way,” he admitted quietly to Catherine, “but you were absolutely right. She’s a true force of nature and takes it remarkably easy.”
”Trust me, Father, it would take at least a tornado to knock Jenny Aronson off her feet,” Catherine replied knowingly and stood up to welcome Vincent.

As if Miss Aronson wished to confirm those words, she turned to her friend, with a beaming smile, and proclaimed, lowering her voice.
”He’s gorgeous, Cathy, and he’s got his father’s eyes!”
”And his mother’s tenderness and beauty,” Vincent added softly, always moved by the miracle in his arms.
Despite the almost surreal environment and company she found herself in, Jenny couldn’t fight the enchantment. “I bet Jake will have his father’s charm when he grows up… Oh, this is just wonderful!”
Catherine chuckled, warmed but not greatly surprised by her friend’s reaction to the revelation.
”It will get even more wonderful,” she remarked and exchanged looks with Vincent. “In January, to be precise.”

Jenny’s smile faded a little, confusion settling in her eyes.
”January?” she inquired, puzzled but also intrigued.
Catherine put her arm around Vincent’s waist and gently stroked their son’s head before turning her attention back to her friend, ready for the final reveal.
“When was the last time you were asked to be a maid of honour?”

The realisation hit Jenny, knocking the air out of her lungs. The widened eyes and open mouth were exactly the reaction Catherine was expecting.
”Well? What do you say?” she asked eagerly.
Jenny shook her head and laughed gleefully, loving the extraordinary image of the young family in front of her eyes.
”I say… Merry Christmas, Jenny Aronson…”

 Make It Snow… 

by Michelle 

Note: This story was inspired by one of my favourite films, 'Edward Scissorhands'.
The beauty of especially one scene from it gave me the inspiration for a story "after".
The other inspiration was the magical soundtrack by Danny Elfman:
Edward Scissorhands Soundtrack: "Ice Dance" [1 Hour Loop]

"... I stood forlorn,
knowing my heart's best treasure was no more,
That neither present times nor years unborn
could to my sight that heavenly face restore."

- William Wordsworth -

December had always been her favourite month of the year. Once, it used to be because it was the month of Christmas, a joyful occasion spent with her family, spreading that wondrous atmosphere around, warming people’s hearts - at least some of them. And then, one December, everything changed. She still loved it, but the reason had changed entirely - it was the month he came to the town and into her life, before vanishing from it as quickly as a cloud of breath released on a freezing day.

Kim was sitting in her comfortable, old-fashioned armchair that winter evening, surrounded by the photographs of her numerous family members. Her tired eyes took in each of them, one by one, slowly and carefully, making sure not one would go unappreciated. Her parents, her brother with his family, her husband, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren… Seemingly endless lines of images creating the canvas of her long life.

Some things had changed since that fateful Christmas many years ago. The evolution of technology and science moved on quickly, but people hadn’t changed that much at their core, as Kim found. They still looked for distraction, sensation, something or someone to stimulate their slightly mundane lives. Mankind might have made a giant leap by walking on the Moon, but it fought the same battles every day as it had been in the past two thousand years.

Her wrinkled hand slowly reached for a heavy, black frame with the black and white photo portrait of her late husband. The earnest, focused look of his dark eyes made the corners of her mouth turn slightly upwards. Those eyes reminded Kim of someone else’s eyes, someone whose image was missing among the many surrounding her at that moment. And yet, they were different as well, missing the melancholy and deep longing reflected in them…

A soft tap on the door frame broke the silence and her reverie.
”I’m sorry, Nanna, I don’t want to disturb you. I just wanted to see if you needed anything.”
“I’ve only ever needed one thing since I was seventeen, but you can’t give me that… no one can,” Kim replied with a tired smile. 

The tall, rather slim and pretty woman in her early thirties, with blonde, short hair, and bright, dark eyes approached her and kneeled at her side.
”Are you all right, Nana?” the woman asked softly, worried when seeing the melancholic expression on her great-grandmother’s pale face.
Kim sighed and chuckled. “I’m tired, Jenny,” she stated.
”Understandably, it’s been a long day of preparations for the big day tomorrow,” the young woman remarked with a smile. “Christmas Day only comes once a year…”
”It’s not the long days that have worn me out,” Kim interrupted her. “It’s my long life, my too-long life.”

Jenny frowned, observing her beloved great-grandmother with sudden anxiety but unable to react.
“It’s all right, my dear. One hundred and one years spent in this wild world are bound to leave their mark on one,” the old woman concluded with a strained voice, smiling at her.

A brief silence befell the antique-furnished bedroom, full of photographs, trinkets and souvenirs of all kinds, collected over decades of Kim’s travelling to all corners of the world. Especially after becoming a widow at quite a young age of not even fifty, her spirit craved even more to spread her wings again and exchange her sleepy hometown for a more stimulating environment.

“I wish there was something I could do,” Jenny shook her head helplessly. “Something more than just---”
“Waiting?” Kim raised her eyebrows. “Don’t worry; it won’t be long now.”
“Nana, please…”

The older woman focused her eyes on her age-marked hands. She slowly moved her fingers as if testing if they worked.
”Hands,” she mused. “We take them so much for granted… never even think about what it must be like not having any…”
Then she noticed her great-granddaughter’s confused look and chuckled.

“I told you a story a long time ago, just like I told it to your mother once,” she said. “You were only a child then, so you probably don’t remember, but I do… and I can never forget…”
Jenny’s look softened as a small, compassionate smile appeared on her face. “Edward?” she asked.
“Yes, Edward…,” Kim replied, whispering the name that she hadn’t spoken for many years. Then she looked at Jenny with sudden determination in her eyes.
“I think there is something you could do for me…”

※※※

The car slowly climbed up the hill road and stopped at a stony gate, overlooked by a selection of obscure animal statues, dusted with a fine layer of snow, twinkling in the moonlight. The tall towers of the long-standing mansion were keeping guard on that unusually cold night.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Jenny asked, slightly nervous, as she helped her great-grandmother carefully climb out of her car. Considering her age, Kim was still quite steady on her feet.
”Of course. I won’t be alone,” she answered with slight hesitation.

Will he truly still be there? She didn’t know. What she did know was that she had to try and see for herself. For years, she tried to persuade herself there was no point in visiting him because there was no way they could have been together. Years turned into decades, and when the age caught up with her, Kim persuaded herself that Edward wouldn’t even recognise her, that she would rather him remember her as a young girl, and she stopped dreaming about seeing him again. And yet, in the final stage of her life, there was only one wish she had remaining…

“I’ll take you at least to the mansion’s front door,” Jenny remarked, reluctant to leave her great-grandparent all alone. “And don’t even try to tell me otherwise,” she added, seeing Kim opening her mouth to protest.

Her words must have worked, for the old woman chuckled and nodded, so they slowly made their way through the gate that Jenny had pushed open. As so many years ago, it wasn’t locked. They walked toward the mansion, passing the old trees lining the road. The soft cushion of snow crunched beneath their feet, glittering in the moonlight.

Of course, he’s here, Kim thought. How else would there be snow in this place?
Suddenly, she felt a new lease of life spreading in her veins, reviving her spirits as well.

When they finally entered the gardens in front of the mansion, a dark shadow moved past the immaculately carved ice statue of a swan.
“Was that…?” Jenny inquired, but her senses told her she didn’t need to ask. No one has lived in the mansion since its former owner passed away many decades ago. No one apart from him… 

Just as Kim was about to reply, the shadow of the figure appeared again, this time closer to them, behind another ice statue - it was one of a young woman, dancing…
“Edward?” Kim whispered. Her eyes struggled but her heart felt she couldn’t be wrong. There was an air of mystery and magic surrounding them.

And then the figure stepped out from behind the statue, standing still next to the dancing woman.

That is how it should have been... Kim thought, gazing at the surreal image of her joyful younger self in the company of the unique man who changed her life. She hadn’t seen Edward as anything else but a man in her mind since the moment she fell for him, despite his unorthodox origin. He was more human in her eyes than any other man she had ever known.

“You can leave us, Jenny.” Kim turned to her great-grandchild, patting her hand. “I will be in good hands.”

Jenny wanted to say something, but the glow of excitement in the older woman’s eyes silenced her. She glanced at the dark figure of the man watching them intently without a word, and for the first time she noticed his hands casting a long shadow on the snow-covered grass - they were long scissors.

“I’ll be safe with him,” Kim reassured her, “I always was.”
“I know,” Jenny replied without hesitation, smiling. The legend was engraved in her memory, and she believed every word her great-grandmother told her about this strange man. She remembered what his heart was made of.
“I’ll come to pick you up later,” she said and hugged Kim, kissing her cool cheek.

When she pulled back, she noticed a strange melancholic look in the older woman’s eyes. It reflected happiness and sadness at the same time and something much deeper.

”Thankyou… Goodbye,” Kim whispered, smiling, squeezing her great-granddaughter’s hand.
”See you soon,” Jenny replied quietly, with hesitation. Something was telling her this was more than just a brief parting. “I love you, Nana,” she said before silently bowing her head towards the man still watching them and smiled shyly, fascinated by his appearance. Then she walked away, leaving behind the woman she adored since her childhood with the artificial man who had stolen her heart many winters ago.

※

For a few moments, they stood silently, observing each other, a myriad of thoughts crossing both their minds. Kim wasn’t sure if he could even guess who she was, but deep inside her heart, she felt he knew. It was difficult to tell though, for his face (unchanged by the long time) showed no emotions.

“Edward…” she said his name for the second time, hoping for a response.

Hearing his name, the man with the scissor hands finally moved again, walking slowly towards her. The slightly jerky, sharper movement of his limbs, typical for his android origin, was still present although less than before. The more fluid moves of his limbs, seemingly unnoticeable to anyone else apart from Kim, accentuated his unusual humanity. He looked exactly as she remembered him, down to his messy black hair resembling a porcupine. As he approached her, she saw his large, dark eyes clearly at last - and the unspoken, deep emotion in them, so uncharacteristic for artificial intelligence, yet so typical for Edward.

He didn’t hesitate a second, and unlike decades ago, his arms slowly opened up and very carefully managed to embrace the slightly hunched woman in front of him. As he lay his cheek against her untied, soft, snow-white hair, he closed his eyes, savouring the moment he had longed for every day and sleepless night for eighty-four years.

“Kim…” he whispered, feeling her shiver at the sound of her name.

How? How come you recognise me? she thought, and her long-hidden feelings ran away with her as her bony arms embraced his waist as tight as possible. He felt cold to touch, just as she remembered it from back then, but it didn’t matter to her. He was alive, and once more, for one last time, he was hers. 

After a while, she pulled back to look into his eyes. If she had ever spoken to any scientist in the world, they would have told her it was impossible, and yet, she saw it - the love in Edward’s eyes. This humanoid was far more human than he was probably supposed to be. His facial expression was mostly the same, without as much as a twitch, but his eyes spoke an entirely different language, the one of sadness, love and yearning, common to every human being.

“How is it possible you still have feelings for me, Edward? An old, withered woman…” Kim asked, bewildered.
“Time doesn’t hold power over those who love, for the heart remains unchanged,” he replied softly, his eyes gently bearing into hers.

Those words rendered her speechless. She was indescribably happy, finally feeling that the void in her heart was filled again.
”You are as sweet as your cookie heart,” she remarked, smiling.
His slightly curled full lips finally briefly changed the melancholic expression on his pale face.
Kim carefully entwined her arm with his, avoiding the scissor hand.
”Walk with me?” she asked hopefully.

He didn’t answer but slowly started walking, measuring each step according to her smaller steps. Kim admired every ice statue they passed by with the wonder of a child, once again dazzled by Edward’s marvellous carving skills. A swan, two turtledoves in flight, a wide-branched tree in full bloom, several angels, a horse with such delicately detailed muscles that it would put even Rodin or Michelangelo to shame…

Kim commented with a few words on several of them, appreciating Edward’s less verbal side, aware of his full attention on her, though.
”Where do you actually get the ice blocks from? I thought the town thinks you’ve been dead for decades…” she asked, suddenly realising that she had never asked herself that question in the years before.

Edward briefly smiled again. “The man who created me was very clever. He built a large freezing box. You fill it with water, which freezes into a block. As much as he was a scientist and inventor, my creator was very much interested in the arts as well. That’s why he showed me what I could do with ice.”
”How do you get water?” Kim wondered more.
“There is a well in the mansion,” Edward replied. “It's connected with the freezing box by pipes. All it takes to fill it is a push of a button."
”And electricity for powering the freezing box?”
“No need. The Infinity Apparatus is a never-ending source of power needed to make it work.”

When he saw the question in her eyes, he added with a flash of a smile, “I have to charge the box every few days. It’s a combination of physical work, the sun and wind. It’s quite a complex process, weather-dependent as well.”
Inadvertently, she glanced at his hands. Edward smiled a little, knowing what she thought.
”There are other ways,” he said without elaborating more.

Kim was amazed. She always knew the inventor must have been a genius to create someone as incredible as Edward, but what she had just learned surpassed her imagination.

As they walked to the back garden, she suddenly stopped at the sight of five larger-than-life-sized statues of the same, dancing young woman - of her. They formed a half-circle, each presenting a different pose, mimicking dancing. Kim felt as if she was looking at a cut-out piece of a film strip. Memories immediately brought her back to the past, to the night when she first danced in the snow…

She looked up to see Edward’s face (he seemed even taller to her now that she was so much older and her back didn’t allow her to stand upright as she used to). Her eyes glistened as she saw herself mirrored in his eyes, as black as the deepest night.
“You were… are the most beautiful thing I have seen in my existence,” Edward stated quietly, savouring her moved expression.

His boldness was a little surprising but even more so welcome. Long decades of solitude didn’t make him forget that although time may have been infinite for him, it was definitely not infinite for human beings. There was no point in wasting it by holding back.

The confession took Kim’s breath away. He had never been a man of many words, but when he spoke, it was always from his heart. The heart he supposedly didn’t have - not a real one, at least.

“I never wanted you to see me like this…” She chuckled sadly. “I wanted you to remember me like that.” She glanced at the statues, then turned back to him, her eyes pinned to the ground.
“You are still Kim Boggs, are you not?” he asked, not requesting an answer. “There is no shame in getting older. I only wish I could…”

The pained expression in his eyes was unbearable. She leaned her head against his arm, lingering her cheek on the spot for a moment.
”No one can turn back or stop time, Edward,” she said knowingly. “That’s why every moment of our lives is so precious.” She stopped, focusing on his face again.
 “You have been the most precious memory in my life.”

His unchanging facial expression wouldn’t betray anything were it not for his eyes. They spoke more than it was scientifically possible or humanely achievable.
Kim suddenly felt dizzy. ”Do you think we could rest on a bench for a little while?” she asked with a weak voice.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he led her to one of the benches overlooking the main part of the garden and mansion. As if by providence, it was the only one mostly uncovered by snow that lay all around. They sat down, and with the utmost care, heightened by Kim’s fragile state, he slowly wrapped his arms around her, reminding them of many winters ago. When he was sure she was comfortable, he laid his head on top of her snow-white one.

The fingers on her bony hands clung tightly to his waist, the long years of their separation making themselves known. Although he felt cold to touch, Kim suddenly felt much warmer, and she closed her eyes, with a smile. Some people would say she was not supposed to feel things that strongly anymore, being so old, but only those who don’t know the real depth of a human’s heart could think so. The heart doesn’t know the age or social conventions.

”In all those years,” Kim started. “I’ve been around the world, did many things… had my own family…” She sighed and opened her eyes, admiring one of the ice statues with her likeness. “I had seemingly everything, and yet… I never forgot… I couldn’t.”

Edward closed his eyes, feeling something sharp stabbing his cookie heart. A single tear ran down his ash-coloured cheek, dropping into her hair. It was the first tear he had shed in his existence.
“And I have been waiting…,” he whispered.

She smiled and let herself be lulled by his nearness and the peaceful silence of the Christmas Eve night surrounding them. Time stood still, and yet, it moved too fast.
”Could you do something for me, Edward?” Kim asked after a while.
”Anything,” he replied softly.
She lifted her head from his chest to look into his eyes. A warm smile appeared on her face, brightening her fading eyes and bringing back something youthful to them.
”Make it snow… I would like to dance…”

Edward felt it; it landed over him like a veil of morning dew, soft, yet chilling - her last wish.
After a long look into her warm eyes, he pressed a lingering, cool kiss on her forehead and reluctantly let go of her to stand up, leaving her alone on the bench.

Kim exhaled into the cold air, releasing a white cloud of steam. She was contented, at the place where she was meant and wanted to be. She was happy.

Edward’s long strides led him to the only raw, untouched block of ice on the grass nearby. He looked over his shoulder to glance at Kim, and her smiling face encouraged him to go ahead. He turned his eyes back to the block in front of him and let his magic work.

The sharp scissors he had instead of hands made her wish come true – it began snowing. Soft white fluffs descended on Kim’s face the same way they did for the first time many years ago, lighting the sparkles of wonder in her eyes. Slowly, she outstretched her shaky hand, trying to catch some on her palm. In her happiness, she could hear the angels sing and see them dancing in the snowflakes floating in the air. Her smile widened, and her eyes wandered toward Edward again. She watched him skilfully transform the piece of unloving, cold matter into a magical, heart-warming object with its own imaginary heart – she saw herself dancing in the snow once more, this time, at her ripe age.

Her heart was finally full again, beating alongside the sweet heart of the man who made her believe in something that everybody talks about, but only a few really find.

By the time the artificial man finished his work, the whole garden was covered with a fresh layer of the white blanket, making it glisten even more in the moonlight. He turned toward the bench where Kim was sitting. She was leaning backwards, smiling, her eyes closed, her wrinkly face a perfect image of peace…

It took only a few slow steps for him to reach her. His face still unchanging, he kneeled, feeling as if something very heavy was sitting on his chest. He couldn’t put in words what it was, but he knew one thing for sure – his cookie heart broke in two pieces at that moment, one piece forever lost with the soul that had just left the earth.

Edward carefully leaned over, daring to return the gift he was given that Christmas Eve many winters ago – he kissed the woman he had loved for over eight decades. After his cold lips left hers, still warm ones, he laid his head in her lap, resting his scissor hands against the snowy ground underneath him. Without moving a muscle on his face, his eyes as dark as midnight glistened, and something liquid and warm started trickling down his cheeks.

※※※※※

The white snow still covered the grounds of the infamous mansion five days later. The sun had already set; the air was chilly but quiet, without as much as a breeze, as if nature decided it was appropriate to remain calm on that occasion. It was still cold, though, something that might have been strange for people of the small Californian town long decades ago, but not anymore.  A group of people of different ages, all hiding in dark winter coats and jackets, stood quietly around a dug-up space in the ground, their heads down.

“Love is not love when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! It is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the start to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom…”(1)

Jenny’s soft voice, echoing one of Kim’s favourite literary pieces, faded as she looked down at the coffin in the ground, where her great-grandmother now rested. Despite the sorrow in her heart, her lips curled into a gentle smile. She found some consolation knowing that her beloved ‘Nana’ spent her last moments on earth happy in the company of her greatest love.

Her mind wandered back to the day after Kim’s passing, as she found a letter on the dressing table in her great-grandmother’s bedroom, addressed to her. It was the saddest Christmas Jenny could ever remember, yet there was so much peace and harmony in the words the letter revealed to her, that she couldn’t be too depressed…

＊

As I sit here, waiting for you to drive me to the mansion, I couldn’t leave without writing these few words for you, since I have a strong feeling they will be among the last ones I’ll ever tell you…

You have always been generous with your love and care for me. I’m not only eternally grateful for it but also know, that you will fulfil my wish and make sure that I rest in the nearness of the man who taught me what real love is. Yes, I’m sure now I will leave tonight, not only this house but all of you.
I don’t want you to be sad. I’ve lived a long and never-boring life, filled with adventures, wonders, happiness and love. Isn’t it ironic that destiny decided to end my life now, at Christmas, the time that brought me the happiest but also the saddest memory of my life, holding but also losing the man I loved first and the longest?

I loved your Great-grandfather, I want you to know that. But a woman’s heart has secrets buried deep within, a treasure trove of beautiful and precious moments and memories that belong only to her. Edward has always been the greatest treasure in my heart, and nothing and no one could ever change that. Please, let me rest in the mansion’s garden, where not only you and all my family can visit me whenever you wish, but also Edward. He’s been alone for most of his life and I don’t want him to spend another day without me by his side. It’s the least I can do for him (and for myself) after what he had given me. I know your Great-grandfather would understand, even though he never knew of Edward, and your mother will, too, eventually.

Don’t be sad that I’m gone. Cherish the memories and the lessons learnt (on both sides); take care of yourself, your parents and the others. Tell them all I’m taking their love with me. And most of all, always keep in mind that respect, kindness and love are the greatest gifts you can give to a human being. To any being...

My heart is at peace, for I will be where I want and should be – with the one who loved me the most and the longest of all. Of that I am sure...

Thank you for everything. I hope life will treat you all kindly and bring you as much joy as you all have brought to me.

With all my love,
                                  Nana

＊

Thinking about the last favour she did for her Great-grandmother, Jenny watched the rest of the short ceremony in peace, strangely not feeling the urge to cry. That will come later, she thought.

Just as the gathering was about to leave, Jenny glanced toward the mansion, towering over the garden, remembering the strange but magical moment from just a few nights before. As she looked back to the grave, her eyes noticed a familiar shadow not far away, protected by an immaculately symmetrically cut bush. He didn’t move only watched with the same expression on his face she saw that night when seeing him for the first time.

Jenny walked slowly but resolved toward the bush, watched curiously by the rest of the gathered family. When she reached him, a warm smile appeared on her face.
”Hello, Edward,” she said softly, unsure how he would react.
”Hello, Jenny,” the humanoid replied with equal softness, and although his face remained unchanged, she saw deep gratitude in his shy, unusually warm gaze. “Thank you for not minding me being here,” he added quietly and lowered his expressive eyes.
”Thank you for letting us do it here,” Jenny replied, moved by his vulnerability.

Edward looked up and couldn’t suppress a typically small smile. She had the same curiosity and kindness written on her face as Kim used to have. Her next words only confirmed the more than just physical resemblance.
”Would you like to meet the others? I think Nana would have liked it.”

He was expecting anything but an invitation. His eyes wandered toward the group of people standing at Kim’s grave, silently but in awe watching him and Jenny in conversation. A lifetime ago, he tasted the bitterness of society’s resentment, ending up doomed to a lonesome life away from humans. Now, the tide had turned, and all Edward could see and feel coming from those sharing the same space with him was harmless curiosity. Indeed, he would probably never truly understand the human species…

Edward looked back at the young woman by his side and nodded shyly, accepting her invitation. Jenny’s smile widened as she carefully took him by his arm and led him to her family. Even up close, he could see no disgust or anger, only quiet understanding and compassion. Kim’s legendary ‘fairy tale’ suddenly became real in front of their eyes.
”This is Edward,” Jenny introduced him. “The Edward.”

The slowly appearing smiles on their faces, the acknowledging nods and interest in the strange yet so familiar figure were genuine, giving Edward a peculiar tingling in his chest.

Suddenly, something tugged at his forearm, making him look away from the group. He had to lower his eyes to see a little girl, barely four years old, standing next to him. She was snuggly hidden in a long blue winter jacket, had dark curly hair peeking from underneath a sizeable, blue, knitted hat, and large, brown eyes, sparkling with sweet mischief. Spontaneously, she embraced his leg with her small arms and leaning her head backwards to see his face, she beamed.
“Make it snow!” she requested, with the innocence so natural and typical for little human beings.

After the initial surprise, Edward’s lips curled in a tender smile. He nodded, let the girl go of his leg and walked away to a partially carved statue of a cupid he had started working on only the day before.His large eyes observed the unfinished icy artwork for a moment, then, he lifted his scissor hands and set to work.

The little girl beamed with delight, running after him when she saw the first, gentle snowflakes fall to the ground like a waterfall. She lifted her little arms towards the early-evening clear sky full of stars, and started dancing, laughing with joy and childlike enthusiasm. She was watched quietly by her family members, whose heavy hearts had been so unexpectedly lightened by the miracle happening before their eyes.

And so there, on that sad day, on that heartbreaking occasion, Edward Scissorhands got his final gift from Kim Boggs. That Christmas, he became a part of a loving and appreciative family, never to be parted from them again for generations to come.  His words proved right: time, indeed, has no power over those who love, because love keeps on living, and giving.

Even for those who lack hands and have a heart made of the sweetest cookie dough.

__________________________________

(1)    William Shakespeare: Sonnet 116