TAKING THE TIME TO WRITE
Inside of the Capponi Library, Dr. Hannibal Lecter sits at his polished, mahogany desk. The bookshelves that surround him appear to be very old, and very valuable. They are lit with candles placed sporadically around the room and are left in shadow by the form of the doctor's beautifully painted harpsichord.
In the soft glow of the candlelight, Dr. Lecter's hand flutters across a sheet of manilla paper. He is writing in beautiful script with incredible skill and grace. Although he sits amidst a clutter of manuscripts, doctrines, newspapers, and other documents of importance, the doctor seems to be quite involved in his task.
After several longs moments, Dr. Lecter stops his hand and raises the page level with his eyes. He scans his work while sipping a glass of merlot. As if to achieve its full effect, he begins to read his writing aloud:
To Clarice,
Untouchable,
unreachable: that is what you are,
You live to fulfill your duty,
and that's brought you far,
Green eyes speak volumes when I see your face,
To me you can tell no lies,
I move in
to reach you and I feel your heart race,
And so my Starling
flies,
Fly away, Clarice, fly far from here,
Never let
the world see that breaking point tear,
But I know the truth and
I know it quite well,
To run would be cowardice and to stay would
be hell,
Breakable, takeable: that is your fragile
story,
You long to escape all that is frightening and gory,
Your
trembling hands long to hold another's:
They searchingly grope for love,
But you
are alone, far away from your mother,
And daddy resides above,
Fly away, Clarice, fly to me here,
I will be
the one to wipe away the tear,
For I know the truth: deep cuts
may not mend,
I am your captor; I am your friend.
Thanks for letting me run Clarice, but I do have a question…
Will you be quick to follow?
With many sincere regards,
Dr. Hannibal Lecter
Dr. Lecter's eyes flash with content as he folds the letter and places it inside an envelope. He seals it and writes an address. He leaves it as it is far too late to wander the deserted streets.
With a newfound placidity, the doctor sits at his harpsichord and plays long into the night. He is ever thinking, ever watching over his deep roller Starling.