Hannibal and Mischa

The rain was heavy that morning on the farm. Hannibal lived on the Austrian border, in the middle of nowhere, he had no motivation to explore beyond the borders his parents head built with oak and pine. Mischa was playing with her dolls while Hannibal milked the cows and lead the calves to slaughter, away from his innocent little sisters eyes.

As Hannibal made his way to the grassland where the calves sat, he heard gun shots, only two but they didn't seem panicked, they were casual. He knew his father was out in the wood. Hannibal ran to the house, and looked frantically, shouting into every room, he caught a glimpse of the cabinet that held his fathers guns and he was surprised they were all accounted for. His mother ran into the cabin and took hold of her son.

'Where is Mischa? Where is she!' She cried.

'The barn.' Hannibal answered.

His mother grabbed him painfully on the arm, and dragged him to the barn where she sighed with great relief at the sight of Mischa. She pulled them both close to her, and pushed them up the small ladder and gesturing they hide their thin frail bodies. Hannibal pulled over an empty hemp sack over his sister, and he hid in the corner of the roof covering himself in hay and straw. All he could hear was his breath against his chest, before two more gun shots rang out beneath him. There was a silence, and then a slight creak, then another and another until he realised the murderer was now only a step away from him and his sister. Hannibal held his breath and closed his eyes. A whimper broke his trance, then he heard a loud squeal. Hannibal kept still, only a single tear flowed from his closed eye.

'What have we here eh? A little girl! A little girl!' The murderer shouted.

'What is it?' Another voice said.

'A little girl, she's bony but with the others she will make a good meal.'

Hannibal's eyes were wide, his body still, he didn't flinch. The men left, with his sister bound, and soon their heavy footsteps dissapated into the whistling wind.

When Hannibal finally re-emerged from the barn, it was pitch black. Hannibal could see a faint cloud of smoke near the woods and a bright amber light. The shadows of three men crowded around it. Hannibal walked to the cabin, and carefully opened the door, he didn't need the light anymore to help him see. Without thinking twice he took his fathers shotgun and knife from his mothers kitchen and walked out into the darkness. He paused just half way between the fire when he saw his sisters dismantled body, her wrists still bound and her clothes bloodied, scattered around the men who were eating unusually long pieces of meat for an animal. Hannibal lay down on the grass and watched them pull his little sister a part until she was just scraps, only then did he sneak up on them, like a wolf under the moonlight. He dropped his fathers gun, and instead took the knife to each of them, spilling their blood before they could realise what had happened to them. He watched their blood stain the blades of yellow grass and seep into the soil, then he dug a deep grave and placed what was left of his young sister inside and covered her up.

The three men were slumped, as if asleep, around the fire. Hannibal used his knife to cut them up further, until he was the one whose hunger was satisfied, and his soul too.