Chapter Three: Visit Number Two
I lie awake, staring blankly at the ceiling. The numbers tick slowly away... 1:46... 1:47...
The clock moves to 1:50 and a loud clatter rings out through the house. I jump and move swiftly out of bed, tip-toeing my way out to the hall. At the end, I can see a faint light.
I inch my way toward the room, the laughter is heavy and the clanking together of plates echoes even louder.
I place my hand on the corner wall and slowly turn around. I'm sure I would scream on a general occasion, but all my mouth can do is hit the floor.
"Well, hello!" the man yells, in an almost too jolly voice, as he swings his enormous wine goblet to his mouth.
The man is a giant! He was sitting on the floor, leaning over in order to fit in the room. He was covered in his own curly red hair and beard.
"Who are you? I ask, most likely with twisted horror on my face.
"Me?" He says with a laugh and moves his enormous hands to his equally enormous knees. "I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present. Why, didn't Past warn ya?"
Still in shock, I say, "But she was so little... and you're so..."
He laughs another hearty laugh. "It's all right, M'Dear. Now we should be getting down to business. Take my sleeve."
I inch forward as he moves his arm towards me. In one fluid and leaping motion, my hand snatches the fabric...
"Where are we?" I ask, glancing around. We're obviously in an alley, for dumpsters line both sides of the melting-snow covered streets.
"Shh, watch," he says, pointing to a far corner.
Behind the lid of the dumpster, protected by nothing more than a blanket, old and ragged, sits a woman cradling a baby, and another young girl sitting next to her, the dirt on all of their faces clashing viciously with their blonde hair.
"I hate this!" the little girl cries.
The mother wraps one arm around her. "Oh, Baby, I know. But it will all be over soon."
"But Daddy didn't do anything wrong!" The girl protests. "He didn't do anything wrong, did he, Mommy?"
She smiles softly down at the girl. "No, your Daddy didn't do anything wrong. And the good lawyers will prove that, ok?"
The girl looks down as her mother brushes strands of hair from her eyes.
"Who are they?" I ask, moving my head upward to see his face.
"Last week you arrested a man on planted evidence," He said, razing an eyebrow to me. "You knew it was planted. You knew it was planted because your partner planted it."
I look down to the icy ground which stands beneath me. "But what was I supposed to do? He's my partner, I can't just rat on him... I mean, I know it would be right, but it would be so hard to prove, and I'd risk losing my job again for the second time in only a year..."
He shook his head. "Those are his wife and children. They lost everything when he was arrested. They'll remain living on the streets if he doesn't come back. And the baby... the baby is very ill. He will surely die if his father isn't released."
I look to the baby and up to the giant. "But what can I do?" I ask.
"You know what to do," he says with an ironic sort of laugh.
"But I can't do that!"
"Because your heart is closed. You care only of yourself."
"Now that is not fai-"
The little baby begins to cough.
"Jenna, help me cover him up," the mother yells to the little girl. Jenna crawls to the front of her mother and leans over the baby.
"He will die within days," says the giant, slowly.
I cannot speak. I don't have the words to say.
I watch as the world around me fades away, and slowly a brighter one replaces it. There's laughter and the familiar clanking of dishes, and Christmas lights and trees and decorations. Two little children sit playing in front of a bright fire.
"Ardelia, is Clarice coming this year?" an elderly black woman asks, looking up from her cooking.
Ardelia, now older, but not looking a day over what she had the last time I had seen her, turns her head from the food she had also been preparing. "You've asked that for the last nine years, Mom," she responds, with a little laugh, full of regret.
Her mom smiles and shrugs. "Just thought I'd ask."
Ardelia turns from the cutting board again, taking two slices of tomatoes with her. "Eddie! Clarice! I have tomatoes!"
The two children abandon their board game and race to the kitchen, each taking a slice from her hands. They hug her and mutter "Thanks, Mama," between bites, before racing back to their game again.
"So adorable, the both of them," Her mother says with a smile.
Ardelia smiles, too, before turning back to her work.
The scene fades again, leaving the large house of an obviously wealthy family to that of a small one, the size of almost a cabin. However, the house is just as decorated, and just as much laughter fills it's tiny walls.
"Now, Cassandra, that is really not fair," laughs a man, sitting against a large window which holds snow covered mountains in the background.
Cassandra sits at the table, leaning over to where she rests on her elbows. She smiles back, her brown hair in a messy bow. "Who are you to tell me what is and isn't fair, Michael Watson?"
He laughs again as a young girl, her hair waist length and brown, walks into the room. At the sight of Michael, she screeches "Daddy!" and runs to hug him.
He hugs her back. "Oh, it's been so long, Veronica."
She pulls back from the hug, a large smile on her face. "I know! Well, come on! Robbie and Lily will want to see you, too!" She says, pulling him off the window sill and out of the room.
"Wait, let me say goodbye to the world's most often married woman," he says, leaning over and kissing Cassandra on the cheek.
"Oh, thank you, Michael," she says, rolling her eyes and lifting from her seat, her old fashioned dress flowing behind her.
"How many times has she been married?" I ask the Ghost, almost afraid of the answer.
"Ten," he says with a small laugh. "Just married the last one a week ago."
"Ten?" I say, a look of awe on my face, but the opening door takes my attention away.
Cassandra claps her hands together as she turns away from the stove. "Richard! Perfect timing!" She walks over to him for a kiss on her cheek.
"Is dinner ready?" he asks, placing his hat on the stand behind the door.
"Yes," she says, taking his hand and leading him into the living room.
I follow, but the Ghost is having a rather hard time.
"Go on ahead," he says with a laugh. "I'll be there in a second."
I shrug and walk to the other room.
The sight is overwhelming. A large, food covered table sits in the middle of the room, faces surrounding it. I see Michael sitting next to Veronica, and he's talking contently to boy of about 15 next to him, who I assume to be Robbie. Next to Robbie, a younger girl tries to join the conversation. I figure she's Lily.
But the people besides them, I have no idea. There sits three other grown men, four other girls, all under the age of ten, and three young boys, all under the age of ten as well. Cassandra stands at the head of the table, her arm locked with Richard's.
"Welcome to dinner!" Cassandra says, a radiant smile upon her face. "Please, everyone, find a seat!"
"I can't believe I'm doing this again," one of the men who had been standing next to me says to the other two as they scamper to seats saved for them by children.
The Ghost arrives at my side. "Ah, Miss Cassandra Starling's Christmas dinner. It's the talk of the town."
I look up at him. "Why?"
"Well, don't you see? Every year, she invites all of her exes. Now I said she was married ten times, but she's dated about twenty more than that. And everyone of them gets an invitation. At first, most of them came. Then only the ex-husbands. This year, only those with children have shown."
"Cassandra Anne Starling," I say with a shake of my head.
The Ghost laughs.
We stay and watch for a few minutes. My sister prances around the table, bothering her exes, fixing her children. The talk is so loud that I can't capture no one conversation.
"Ah, it doesn't get anymore interesting than this," the Ghost says, as he snaps his fingers and the scene seems to almost shatter and crumble before my eyes.
The house we're in now is large and dark, but a tree sits in one far off corner. Beautiful classical music is pouring out of a speakers placed all around the room.
I look out the window. The sun is just barely setting over a large pool, surrounded by a large fence of thick bushes and trees. An expensive car, I can't make out which type from where I stand, sits parked next to the pool.
"Where are we?" I ask the Ghost, but he gives me an odd sort of look and doesn't answer.
I walk forward into a beautiful dining room. Only one place is set at the table, but the plate and utensils are all gold and seem to sparkle due to the light pouring out of the chandler overhead. I can smell a beautiful scented dinner coming from the other room.
I turn to go there, but something catches my eye. Behind the table stands a large fire place, and on it's mantel are picture frames. I move in closer.
In each of those picture frames are portraits of a smiling, red haired woman. Each picture is of me.
I turn, confused, to the kitchen. I walk up to the door and slowly push it open.
Then I see him. Standing over a stove, a bottle of wine on the counter. Dr. Lecter.
With a swift turn of the frying pan on the stove, he empties it onto a large plate which matches the other. He takes that and another small plate and leaves the room. He returns once again for the wine and this time I follow him back out of the room.
He pours the wine into the glass and takes a seat. He makes his plate of what he's just brought from the kitchen and begins to eat, completely unaware of the presence of someone else.
With a turn of his head, he glances out the large window to the left of the table. He gracefully takes the wine glass in his hand and lifts it to the moon outside.
"Merry Christmas, Clarice," he says, as he then takes a drink.
I place my hand on his shoulder, although he doesn't know. "Merry Christmas, Dr. Lecter."
The image fades away once more, and soon, my hand is doing nothing but extending into the cold, night's air.
I bring my arms around me, suddenly aware of the chill. I look around, but can't put together what this place is.
"Where are we?" I ask, my hair blowing in my face as I turn my head back to the Ghost. A look of concern is painted on his face.
"I leave you here," he says softly. "You'll meet the next Ghost when the clock strikes three."
"Where are we?" I shout again, but he doesn't answer. His body is starting to fade away in the same way the events he had shown me had.
"Don't leave me!" I scream. "You can't just leave me here!"
But I am no longer staring at a giant. Now that he has gone, I can fully see what was behind him. A large clock which stabs the sky.
2:59 AM.
I lie awake, staring blankly at the ceiling. The numbers tick slowly away... 1:46... 1:47...
The clock moves to 1:50 and a loud clatter rings out through the house. I jump and move swiftly out of bed, tip-toeing my way out to the hall. At the end, I can see a faint light.
I inch my way toward the room, the laughter is heavy and the clanking together of plates echoes even louder.
I place my hand on the corner wall and slowly turn around. I'm sure I would scream on a general occasion, but all my mouth can do is hit the floor.
"Well, hello!" the man yells, in an almost too jolly voice, as he swings his enormous wine goblet to his mouth.
The man is a giant! He was sitting on the floor, leaning over in order to fit in the room. He was covered in his own curly red hair and beard.
"Who are you? I ask, most likely with twisted horror on my face.
"Me?" He says with a laugh and moves his enormous hands to his equally enormous knees. "I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present. Why, didn't Past warn ya?"
Still in shock, I say, "But she was so little... and you're so..."
He laughs another hearty laugh. "It's all right, M'Dear. Now we should be getting down to business. Take my sleeve."
I inch forward as he moves his arm towards me. In one fluid and leaping motion, my hand snatches the fabric...
"Where are we?" I ask, glancing around. We're obviously in an alley, for dumpsters line both sides of the melting-snow covered streets.
"Shh, watch," he says, pointing to a far corner.
Behind the lid of the dumpster, protected by nothing more than a blanket, old and ragged, sits a woman cradling a baby, and another young girl sitting next to her, the dirt on all of their faces clashing viciously with their blonde hair.
"I hate this!" the little girl cries.
The mother wraps one arm around her. "Oh, Baby, I know. But it will all be over soon."
"But Daddy didn't do anything wrong!" The girl protests. "He didn't do anything wrong, did he, Mommy?"
She smiles softly down at the girl. "No, your Daddy didn't do anything wrong. And the good lawyers will prove that, ok?"
The girl looks down as her mother brushes strands of hair from her eyes.
"Who are they?" I ask, moving my head upward to see his face.
"Last week you arrested a man on planted evidence," He said, razing an eyebrow to me. "You knew it was planted. You knew it was planted because your partner planted it."
I look down to the icy ground which stands beneath me. "But what was I supposed to do? He's my partner, I can't just rat on him... I mean, I know it would be right, but it would be so hard to prove, and I'd risk losing my job again for the second time in only a year..."
He shook his head. "Those are his wife and children. They lost everything when he was arrested. They'll remain living on the streets if he doesn't come back. And the baby... the baby is very ill. He will surely die if his father isn't released."
I look to the baby and up to the giant. "But what can I do?" I ask.
"You know what to do," he says with an ironic sort of laugh.
"But I can't do that!"
"Because your heart is closed. You care only of yourself."
"Now that is not fai-"
The little baby begins to cough.
"Jenna, help me cover him up," the mother yells to the little girl. Jenna crawls to the front of her mother and leans over the baby.
"He will die within days," says the giant, slowly.
I cannot speak. I don't have the words to say.
I watch as the world around me fades away, and slowly a brighter one replaces it. There's laughter and the familiar clanking of dishes, and Christmas lights and trees and decorations. Two little children sit playing in front of a bright fire.
"Ardelia, is Clarice coming this year?" an elderly black woman asks, looking up from her cooking.
Ardelia, now older, but not looking a day over what she had the last time I had seen her, turns her head from the food she had also been preparing. "You've asked that for the last nine years, Mom," she responds, with a little laugh, full of regret.
Her mom smiles and shrugs. "Just thought I'd ask."
Ardelia turns from the cutting board again, taking two slices of tomatoes with her. "Eddie! Clarice! I have tomatoes!"
The two children abandon their board game and race to the kitchen, each taking a slice from her hands. They hug her and mutter "Thanks, Mama," between bites, before racing back to their game again.
"So adorable, the both of them," Her mother says with a smile.
Ardelia smiles, too, before turning back to her work.
The scene fades again, leaving the large house of an obviously wealthy family to that of a small one, the size of almost a cabin. However, the house is just as decorated, and just as much laughter fills it's tiny walls.
"Now, Cassandra, that is really not fair," laughs a man, sitting against a large window which holds snow covered mountains in the background.
Cassandra sits at the table, leaning over to where she rests on her elbows. She smiles back, her brown hair in a messy bow. "Who are you to tell me what is and isn't fair, Michael Watson?"
He laughs again as a young girl, her hair waist length and brown, walks into the room. At the sight of Michael, she screeches "Daddy!" and runs to hug him.
He hugs her back. "Oh, it's been so long, Veronica."
She pulls back from the hug, a large smile on her face. "I know! Well, come on! Robbie and Lily will want to see you, too!" She says, pulling him off the window sill and out of the room.
"Wait, let me say goodbye to the world's most often married woman," he says, leaning over and kissing Cassandra on the cheek.
"Oh, thank you, Michael," she says, rolling her eyes and lifting from her seat, her old fashioned dress flowing behind her.
"How many times has she been married?" I ask the Ghost, almost afraid of the answer.
"Ten," he says with a small laugh. "Just married the last one a week ago."
"Ten?" I say, a look of awe on my face, but the opening door takes my attention away.
Cassandra claps her hands together as she turns away from the stove. "Richard! Perfect timing!" She walks over to him for a kiss on her cheek.
"Is dinner ready?" he asks, placing his hat on the stand behind the door.
"Yes," she says, taking his hand and leading him into the living room.
I follow, but the Ghost is having a rather hard time.
"Go on ahead," he says with a laugh. "I'll be there in a second."
I shrug and walk to the other room.
The sight is overwhelming. A large, food covered table sits in the middle of the room, faces surrounding it. I see Michael sitting next to Veronica, and he's talking contently to boy of about 15 next to him, who I assume to be Robbie. Next to Robbie, a younger girl tries to join the conversation. I figure she's Lily.
But the people besides them, I have no idea. There sits three other grown men, four other girls, all under the age of ten, and three young boys, all under the age of ten as well. Cassandra stands at the head of the table, her arm locked with Richard's.
"Welcome to dinner!" Cassandra says, a radiant smile upon her face. "Please, everyone, find a seat!"
"I can't believe I'm doing this again," one of the men who had been standing next to me says to the other two as they scamper to seats saved for them by children.
The Ghost arrives at my side. "Ah, Miss Cassandra Starling's Christmas dinner. It's the talk of the town."
I look up at him. "Why?"
"Well, don't you see? Every year, she invites all of her exes. Now I said she was married ten times, but she's dated about twenty more than that. And everyone of them gets an invitation. At first, most of them came. Then only the ex-husbands. This year, only those with children have shown."
"Cassandra Anne Starling," I say with a shake of my head.
The Ghost laughs.
We stay and watch for a few minutes. My sister prances around the table, bothering her exes, fixing her children. The talk is so loud that I can't capture no one conversation.
"Ah, it doesn't get anymore interesting than this," the Ghost says, as he snaps his fingers and the scene seems to almost shatter and crumble before my eyes.
The house we're in now is large and dark, but a tree sits in one far off corner. Beautiful classical music is pouring out of a speakers placed all around the room.
I look out the window. The sun is just barely setting over a large pool, surrounded by a large fence of thick bushes and trees. An expensive car, I can't make out which type from where I stand, sits parked next to the pool.
"Where are we?" I ask the Ghost, but he gives me an odd sort of look and doesn't answer.
I walk forward into a beautiful dining room. Only one place is set at the table, but the plate and utensils are all gold and seem to sparkle due to the light pouring out of the chandler overhead. I can smell a beautiful scented dinner coming from the other room.
I turn to go there, but something catches my eye. Behind the table stands a large fire place, and on it's mantel are picture frames. I move in closer.
In each of those picture frames are portraits of a smiling, red haired woman. Each picture is of me.
I turn, confused, to the kitchen. I walk up to the door and slowly push it open.
Then I see him. Standing over a stove, a bottle of wine on the counter. Dr. Lecter.
With a swift turn of the frying pan on the stove, he empties it onto a large plate which matches the other. He takes that and another small plate and leaves the room. He returns once again for the wine and this time I follow him back out of the room.
He pours the wine into the glass and takes a seat. He makes his plate of what he's just brought from the kitchen and begins to eat, completely unaware of the presence of someone else.
With a turn of his head, he glances out the large window to the left of the table. He gracefully takes the wine glass in his hand and lifts it to the moon outside.
"Merry Christmas, Clarice," he says, as he then takes a drink.
I place my hand on his shoulder, although he doesn't know. "Merry Christmas, Dr. Lecter."
The image fades away once more, and soon, my hand is doing nothing but extending into the cold, night's air.
I bring my arms around me, suddenly aware of the chill. I look around, but can't put together what this place is.
"Where are we?" I ask, my hair blowing in my face as I turn my head back to the Ghost. A look of concern is painted on his face.
"I leave you here," he says softly. "You'll meet the next Ghost when the clock strikes three."
"Where are we?" I shout again, but he doesn't answer. His body is starting to fade away in the same way the events he had shown me had.
"Don't leave me!" I scream. "You can't just leave me here!"
But I am no longer staring at a giant. Now that he has gone, I can fully see what was behind him. A large clock which stabs the sky.
2:59 AM.