Silent Snow Fall Vol.3
The Child Inside
3 WEEKS LATER
Hannibal Lecter rolled over in his small bed. The dawn was breaking outside his window, the night's snowfall tasting its first glimpse of light from below. Pushing back the patched blanket, he rose to look out at the sparkling hillside, the whiteness pristine and untouched by human means.
Quietly pulling on a jumper, she slipped past Amos and Maria's door and pulled the heavy front door back. A refreshing blast of stinging air blustered his hair. Tilting his head, he savoured the uniquely enchanting smell of tumbling rivers and frozen pine needles that was a Lithuanian winter dawn.
Crossing the icy track, he ascended the sloping hill beyond before reaching the bubbling streams and the forest edge. The water was perfectly clear, travelling too fast to pick up leaves or mud, white bubbles jumping the rocks like tiny horses.
Living at the grand estate with his parents had never deprived him of anything material, but his parent's strict orders to the maids had denied him the simple pleasures of outside freedom. He understood their concern, what with the constant threat of foreign soldiers, but he sourly missed the natural wilderness he could only look at. If only he could have escaped with Mischa. He could imagine her ecstatic face at this freezing world she never had the chance to experience. Then he stopped wishing. Wishing couldn't help now, to earn his right to revenge he had to lock away everything-freeze his emotion, trap his fondest memories for they had the power to break him.
Carefully constructing a tiny cage in the back of a basement room in his Memory Palace, Hannibal Lecter locked away all his pain, and he could think clearly again.
As the young Hannibal Lecter was laying the foundations for his later, infamous life, Amos Parchain was trying to calm his frantic wife. "Stop worrying! The boy's probably gone for a morning walk."
"He doesn't look the outdoors type-pale as milk he is, and he hasn't fully recovered from the last time he was out I the snow and ice"
"He may be pale as milk, but I'll bet you anything he's as strong as a good whiskey-your blowing this out of proportion. If the boy survived acute hypothermia, he's probably going to brave one morning walk dear."
"Still. I think I should go and look for him-he is in our care." Amos sighed heavily-if nagging was a celebrated sport, his wife would be a worldwide superstar. "Don't you be4 going out there-your not in the best of health, either. I'll look for him if it will stop you nagging. I need to get the goats out anyway."
Amos scaled the hill briskly, having followed the same track for 36 years. His small herd followed, eagerly anticipating fresh grazing. Seeing the child sitting by the river, he scaled a little east and set Shep to watch the goats.
Should he go over? Maybe the lad wanted a bit of privacy-why else would he be out at dawn? Ten old shepherd watched the child, wondering what he was up to. Amos had never met any child as young as this to be so intense about everything. He seemed way beyond his years. Had he ever acted like the child he was? He didn't look over 5 or 6 years.
Hannibal Lecter was kneeling by the bubbling stream, his knees were submerged in snow but he didn't seem to notice or care. Two river fishing birds had swooped down right in front of him, a male and a female. They swooped and dived and danced around each other so fast, Hannibal found it almost dizzying to watch. He smiled as they came closer, bright eyes watching the still human-child. He flicked a little water on them and laughed as they ruffled their feathers like a dog would. Enjoying the water, the birds dived into the river, wings flicking water back on the child.
Watching young Hannibal laugh by the river, the shepherd saw a little past his aloof outer and saw a glimpse of the child inside. The child he had thought Hannibal lost years before. Grinning to himself, Amos bunched a ball of snow in his gloved hand and, hiding partially in his goatherd, hurled it at the child.
Feeling the coldness spatter his neck, Hannibal whirled round, eyes scanning the hillside. Only the goats he had smelt coming earlier were on the hillside. No, wait. The scent of cooking smoke and washed wool. Amos! A tiny hunting thrill ran through him as he searched the tossing backs of the goats. A flash of coloured wool in the midst-aha! Eyes flashing, Hannibal packed his own snowball and lobbed it into the mass of grey-white mass, a splatter of snow showing his target. A childish laughter reached Amos's ears and he smiled. Walking from the goats with his hands up in surrender, he approached the boy.
"That was uncalled for!" He told the kneeling child, dropping his hands.
"I believe it was a provoked attack." Hannibal answered smiling slightly.
"Your gonna be at the wrong end of a provoked attack when you get back home! Your dawn stroll got Maria worried sick-been nagging me to the bone." Hannibal grinned playfully. "Again?" he asked. The shepherd tossed his thick shawl over the boy and picked him up. "If you get ill again, you'll have to face the nagging edge of her tongue- and that's one big edge!"
The two made their way back to the smoking cottage, the smell of frying eggs filling the clear sky. Hannibal huddled into the warming shawl so he was virtually completely covered.
Anyone passing would see nothing in the bundle but a few long strands of dark hair tossing in the wind and two maroon eyes. Later in his life, many people who met him would only remember those haunting eyes, masking his emotions perfectly.
At the age of 6 and 4 months, Hannibal is still refining that skill-now his eyes clearly show that, for now, he is happy.
After he leaves the Parchains, he will have to wait nearly 54years to feel the same contentment he does now. And when he does, he will look back to this moment and smile.
3 WEEKS LATER
Hannibal Lecter rolled over in his small bed. The dawn was breaking outside his window, the night's snowfall tasting its first glimpse of light from below. Pushing back the patched blanket, he rose to look out at the sparkling hillside, the whiteness pristine and untouched by human means.
Quietly pulling on a jumper, she slipped past Amos and Maria's door and pulled the heavy front door back. A refreshing blast of stinging air blustered his hair. Tilting his head, he savoured the uniquely enchanting smell of tumbling rivers and frozen pine needles that was a Lithuanian winter dawn.
Crossing the icy track, he ascended the sloping hill beyond before reaching the bubbling streams and the forest edge. The water was perfectly clear, travelling too fast to pick up leaves or mud, white bubbles jumping the rocks like tiny horses.
Living at the grand estate with his parents had never deprived him of anything material, but his parent's strict orders to the maids had denied him the simple pleasures of outside freedom. He understood their concern, what with the constant threat of foreign soldiers, but he sourly missed the natural wilderness he could only look at. If only he could have escaped with Mischa. He could imagine her ecstatic face at this freezing world she never had the chance to experience. Then he stopped wishing. Wishing couldn't help now, to earn his right to revenge he had to lock away everything-freeze his emotion, trap his fondest memories for they had the power to break him.
Carefully constructing a tiny cage in the back of a basement room in his Memory Palace, Hannibal Lecter locked away all his pain, and he could think clearly again.
As the young Hannibal Lecter was laying the foundations for his later, infamous life, Amos Parchain was trying to calm his frantic wife. "Stop worrying! The boy's probably gone for a morning walk."
"He doesn't look the outdoors type-pale as milk he is, and he hasn't fully recovered from the last time he was out I the snow and ice"
"He may be pale as milk, but I'll bet you anything he's as strong as a good whiskey-your blowing this out of proportion. If the boy survived acute hypothermia, he's probably going to brave one morning walk dear."
"Still. I think I should go and look for him-he is in our care." Amos sighed heavily-if nagging was a celebrated sport, his wife would be a worldwide superstar. "Don't you be4 going out there-your not in the best of health, either. I'll look for him if it will stop you nagging. I need to get the goats out anyway."
Amos scaled the hill briskly, having followed the same track for 36 years. His small herd followed, eagerly anticipating fresh grazing. Seeing the child sitting by the river, he scaled a little east and set Shep to watch the goats.
Should he go over? Maybe the lad wanted a bit of privacy-why else would he be out at dawn? Ten old shepherd watched the child, wondering what he was up to. Amos had never met any child as young as this to be so intense about everything. He seemed way beyond his years. Had he ever acted like the child he was? He didn't look over 5 or 6 years.
Hannibal Lecter was kneeling by the bubbling stream, his knees were submerged in snow but he didn't seem to notice or care. Two river fishing birds had swooped down right in front of him, a male and a female. They swooped and dived and danced around each other so fast, Hannibal found it almost dizzying to watch. He smiled as they came closer, bright eyes watching the still human-child. He flicked a little water on them and laughed as they ruffled their feathers like a dog would. Enjoying the water, the birds dived into the river, wings flicking water back on the child.
Watching young Hannibal laugh by the river, the shepherd saw a little past his aloof outer and saw a glimpse of the child inside. The child he had thought Hannibal lost years before. Grinning to himself, Amos bunched a ball of snow in his gloved hand and, hiding partially in his goatherd, hurled it at the child.
Feeling the coldness spatter his neck, Hannibal whirled round, eyes scanning the hillside. Only the goats he had smelt coming earlier were on the hillside. No, wait. The scent of cooking smoke and washed wool. Amos! A tiny hunting thrill ran through him as he searched the tossing backs of the goats. A flash of coloured wool in the midst-aha! Eyes flashing, Hannibal packed his own snowball and lobbed it into the mass of grey-white mass, a splatter of snow showing his target. A childish laughter reached Amos's ears and he smiled. Walking from the goats with his hands up in surrender, he approached the boy.
"That was uncalled for!" He told the kneeling child, dropping his hands.
"I believe it was a provoked attack." Hannibal answered smiling slightly.
"Your gonna be at the wrong end of a provoked attack when you get back home! Your dawn stroll got Maria worried sick-been nagging me to the bone." Hannibal grinned playfully. "Again?" he asked. The shepherd tossed his thick shawl over the boy and picked him up. "If you get ill again, you'll have to face the nagging edge of her tongue- and that's one big edge!"
The two made their way back to the smoking cottage, the smell of frying eggs filling the clear sky. Hannibal huddled into the warming shawl so he was virtually completely covered.
Anyone passing would see nothing in the bundle but a few long strands of dark hair tossing in the wind and two maroon eyes. Later in his life, many people who met him would only remember those haunting eyes, masking his emotions perfectly.
At the age of 6 and 4 months, Hannibal is still refining that skill-now his eyes clearly show that, for now, he is happy.
After he leaves the Parchains, he will have to wait nearly 54years to feel the same contentment he does now. And when he does, he will look back to this moment and smile.