Chapter Nine: The Beauty of Death
It was the Fourth day she had spent with Hannibal Lecter.
In the past two days she had spent her time writting up passports, IDs, and Licences for them.
It was another 11 days before he would be free, and she could pick up her life and begin to peice it back together.
The only hope she had was the feeling of fulfillment when she watched him walk, as a free man, out of the air port.
It was late afternoon, and they sat in the main room. Allissa observed out the window the sun dipping into the lake.
The scene was beautiful; she could understand why Hannibal observed it too, sketching it onto a page to save forever.
"It's beautiful" she said.
He turned to face her, brows furrowed.
"And what beauty do you see in it, Alissa?" He asked.
Always a challenge, she knew now knew what to expect, to an extent.
"It's beautiful, tranquil, it symbolizes serenity, the setting of the sun means to me the ending of the day, and the quiet brought by the afternoon."
"Interesting", was his muffled comment.
"What do you see in it? Is it beautiful to you too?"
He stopped sketching and looked at her, the smallest surprise in his eyes.
"What do I see? I see the beauty of death in it. The sun, struggeling to live, fighting.
It's being forced away, perhaps forced into hiding, hiding from the all-powerful blackness of night,
which will consume the sky, eclips the clouds, and rule supreme. The sun is a cowarad, running from it's superior,
fleeing something it cannot stop, nor fight. The sun is dieing, slowly, painfuly, and the colors in it heighten, mix with the sky, as it bleeds.
This is what I see. We all see something different, most don't bother to try to see at all."
"Death is not beautiful" she replyed in a monotone.
"But death is beautiful. In your mind you know it is, yet you refuse to admit it,
because socity has forced the thought into you that it would be barbaric to see the beauty in death.
Do you not think birth is beautiful?"
He returned to sketching as he spoke.
"Yes, but that is compleatly different"
"No, it is the same, the comming of new life, investing, entering a new body.
Children are born alive, the only time we are ever able to see the body alone, without life, is after death.
The moment of death is a beautiful thing. A uniqe, powerful flame which had burned within a person for many years goes out, this is beautiful."
"And the taking of life, is that beautiful too?" she said hotly.
"I do not kill for beauty" he said simply.
"Then why?"
It was the most emotion he had sen in her since they met, those two words,
begging him to explain to her, to let her understand, out of desperation.
He rose from his chair and came forward, until he was looming over her figure, seated in the very old armchair which smelled of cigars.
"Alissa, have you ever seen a bumbling idiot. A sad speciment of the human race, with no ettiquett,
no mind, nothing in them but life, and there they sit, abusing it, never actually living, misusing it all along. Have you, Alissa?"
"I suppose, yes, but-"
"Those people, those who cannot treat their bodies correctly, who do not understand their purpose nor their obligation to live, lead a half life.
Usually, they haven't a decent friend, and they come from a long line of bottom feeders.
They do not deserve to live, Alissa, they don't deserve the luctury of the sun setting outside their window when they do not watch it,
they do not deserve to perceive things around them if they will only scratch the surface.
They are luke warm. I am Hot, Alissa, i live to live, and i do it to the fullest.
You are cold, you have no desire to live at all, you want to die. Inviting me into your home is an inderect death wish you have, but i'll not fill it.
Better cold or hot then luke warm."
She could see the sparks of red flying in his maroon eyes, and for that moment,
they held every scrap of knowlage, every emotion imagenable, the secrets of life, and the keys to death.
And he was right. She knew he was right, no matter how she fought it, he was right.
"And, when I kill, I rid our world of these sub-humans, and make them beautiful. For one moment in their life, they know beauty, they know intense emotion:
they know fear beyond reasoning, and you can be drunk on fear. It is the single most moving thing they will ever know.
In the last moments of exsistence, they are the beauty, they are beautiful to me, I have made them beautiful, with my hands,
I have restored their humanity, the price for their half life is death, but it is a small one."
She breath was rapid just from listening to him. Though he never once raised his voice, he held her attention rapt, and every inflection in his words told the story,
the meaning in his life, the favor he was doing humanity, and those he killed. Though by social standards it was a sick, twisted logic, it was a logic none the less.
A true logic, a sensible logic, a logic which held the depest secrets of the mind, the desire to purify, the desire for perfection. And he'll never stop.
She knew he would never stop, it was his life's work, his duty. It was his way of life, and it held so much for her.
Layrs and layrs of understanding, of knowlage, the deepest desires, the evils inside one man based on his struggle to bring about his good.
It was intoxicating, and, to her, it was right.
"Hannibal, tell me more, please, explain, I have to know" She finally replyed breathlessly, urgently.
"You will understand, but one step at a time, one concept of a time. I've opened a door for you, now you explor it, I'll start dinner"
It was the Fourth day she had spent with Hannibal Lecter.
In the past two days she had spent her time writting up passports, IDs, and Licences for them.
It was another 11 days before he would be free, and she could pick up her life and begin to peice it back together.
The only hope she had was the feeling of fulfillment when she watched him walk, as a free man, out of the air port.
It was late afternoon, and they sat in the main room. Allissa observed out the window the sun dipping into the lake.
The scene was beautiful; she could understand why Hannibal observed it too, sketching it onto a page to save forever.
"It's beautiful" she said.
He turned to face her, brows furrowed.
"And what beauty do you see in it, Alissa?" He asked.
Always a challenge, she knew now knew what to expect, to an extent.
"It's beautiful, tranquil, it symbolizes serenity, the setting of the sun means to me the ending of the day, and the quiet brought by the afternoon."
"Interesting", was his muffled comment.
"What do you see in it? Is it beautiful to you too?"
He stopped sketching and looked at her, the smallest surprise in his eyes.
"What do I see? I see the beauty of death in it. The sun, struggeling to live, fighting.
It's being forced away, perhaps forced into hiding, hiding from the all-powerful blackness of night,
which will consume the sky, eclips the clouds, and rule supreme. The sun is a cowarad, running from it's superior,
fleeing something it cannot stop, nor fight. The sun is dieing, slowly, painfuly, and the colors in it heighten, mix with the sky, as it bleeds.
This is what I see. We all see something different, most don't bother to try to see at all."
"Death is not beautiful" she replyed in a monotone.
"But death is beautiful. In your mind you know it is, yet you refuse to admit it,
because socity has forced the thought into you that it would be barbaric to see the beauty in death.
Do you not think birth is beautiful?"
He returned to sketching as he spoke.
"Yes, but that is compleatly different"
"No, it is the same, the comming of new life, investing, entering a new body.
Children are born alive, the only time we are ever able to see the body alone, without life, is after death.
The moment of death is a beautiful thing. A uniqe, powerful flame which had burned within a person for many years goes out, this is beautiful."
"And the taking of life, is that beautiful too?" she said hotly.
"I do not kill for beauty" he said simply.
"Then why?"
It was the most emotion he had sen in her since they met, those two words,
begging him to explain to her, to let her understand, out of desperation.
He rose from his chair and came forward, until he was looming over her figure, seated in the very old armchair which smelled of cigars.
"Alissa, have you ever seen a bumbling idiot. A sad speciment of the human race, with no ettiquett,
no mind, nothing in them but life, and there they sit, abusing it, never actually living, misusing it all along. Have you, Alissa?"
"I suppose, yes, but-"
"Those people, those who cannot treat their bodies correctly, who do not understand their purpose nor their obligation to live, lead a half life.
Usually, they haven't a decent friend, and they come from a long line of bottom feeders.
They do not deserve to live, Alissa, they don't deserve the luctury of the sun setting outside their window when they do not watch it,
they do not deserve to perceive things around them if they will only scratch the surface.
They are luke warm. I am Hot, Alissa, i live to live, and i do it to the fullest.
You are cold, you have no desire to live at all, you want to die. Inviting me into your home is an inderect death wish you have, but i'll not fill it.
Better cold or hot then luke warm."
She could see the sparks of red flying in his maroon eyes, and for that moment,
they held every scrap of knowlage, every emotion imagenable, the secrets of life, and the keys to death.
And he was right. She knew he was right, no matter how she fought it, he was right.
"And, when I kill, I rid our world of these sub-humans, and make them beautiful. For one moment in their life, they know beauty, they know intense emotion:
they know fear beyond reasoning, and you can be drunk on fear. It is the single most moving thing they will ever know.
In the last moments of exsistence, they are the beauty, they are beautiful to me, I have made them beautiful, with my hands,
I have restored their humanity, the price for their half life is death, but it is a small one."
She breath was rapid just from listening to him. Though he never once raised his voice, he held her attention rapt, and every inflection in his words told the story,
the meaning in his life, the favor he was doing humanity, and those he killed. Though by social standards it was a sick, twisted logic, it was a logic none the less.
A true logic, a sensible logic, a logic which held the depest secrets of the mind, the desire to purify, the desire for perfection. And he'll never stop.
She knew he would never stop, it was his life's work, his duty. It was his way of life, and it held so much for her.
Layrs and layrs of understanding, of knowlage, the deepest desires, the evils inside one man based on his struggle to bring about his good.
It was intoxicating, and, to her, it was right.
"Hannibal, tell me more, please, explain, I have to know" She finally replyed breathlessly, urgently.
"You will understand, but one step at a time, one concept of a time. I've opened a door for you, now you explor it, I'll start dinner"