Well, as I've already mentioned, I don't know actually how far my muse is
going to take me, but this is going to be fun. You guys know my disclaimer,
but only for Thomas Harris's characters. Other characters are supposed to
be mine.
A/N: as always I am going to include some songs. Forgive me for that. Your reviews are always appreciated, welcomed etc.
Have fun!
The Orphan.
Chapter 1. Little girl.
Her fingers seemed to live their own life. They still didn't want to obey her commands. No concentration at all. She was practicing scales for an hour, but with no visible result. However 'visible' wasn't quite the right word. Should she say 'hearable'?
And there was another refined torture waiting for her. Mozart. She hated Mozart. He was too light, bravura, frivolous for her. She couldn't take it. But her teacher said she was to play Rondo from the Second Vienne Sonatina. A great deal of work waiting under the seemingly easy music.
As much as she hated Mozart she loved Beethoven. But this kind of music was too complicated for her skills. She knew playing the piano was just a part of her education programme, not the main subect, not the purpose. It was only means to become a nice lady in a rude world outside.
It was not XIX century. We are no more white trash or niggers or slaves or owners. We have the Law which is equally merciless to everyone.
Concentrate, little girl. You sure don't want to see how angry Mrs. Peters can be.
"Miss Starling!"
No, not again. Don't shout, I hate shouting, I hate loud voices, stop, please, STOP!
"Miss Starling! I! Expect! You! Listen! To! ME!"
What have I done?
"Miss Starling! Stand up!"
The law is equally merciless for everyone. And a white trash is going to get some rod today. Spare a rod and spoil a child. That was surely Mrs. Peters' motto.
She is taking the rod. Although the rest of the world is living in XX century, we still are in XIXth. And noone from the rest of the world know about us. Poor little orphans. Girls without parents. Some of the girls actually had them, but they were too drunk to see the social institution stealing their children.
To be or not to be? Not to be. Not to be Clarice Starling anymore. Not to be a girl which earned the respect of the teachers by being clever and obedient. Not to be Clarice Starling who can't remember her own mother. Not to be Clarice Starling whose father's dead. Not to be Clarice Starling who failed to protect poor lambs from slaughtering. Not to be...
"Please, Doctor, I only want you to talk with her. Poor little creature. She was one of our best inmates until the incident. We don't know whether she's still normal. She's been with us only for two years – maybe she still can't cope with her past. With all the pain she has in her heart."
"Please, darling, do it for me. You know, I do care for those poor orphans." Woman's voice. Quite nice, though unpleasantly capricious notes in her voce visibly waited for an hour to appear on stage. "I'm staying here for three days, I have some business, you know." Noone actually knew and didn't want to know what the business was, but as she was giving the large sum of money for charity, the headmaster listened quietly, with the most pleasant smile she could give out. The man was watching both women and somewhere in the corner of his beautifully shaped mouth a Cheshire smile was hiding. The 'business' lady was his... emm... companion at the moment. A woman to satisfy his animal needs. Beautiful, indeed. Looks after herself. Not too young and not too old. And – not too boring. But all these 'charity' needs was only a debt to her own childhood – and he was first to hear that from this strong woman. Another orphan like me, he thought then. And here and now he's being asked to help another orphan. Not a woman, though. A girl.
"As much as I wish to help you, I must refuse," he said. "I've never worked wih children."
"I don't know what words to use to make you..." The woman stopped herself in the middle of the sentence. "It's no use. No use to telling you she needs help."
"What's her name again? And what has she done that you keep her closed?"
"She bit her music teacher."
Now that was interesting.
"Why?"
"We don't know. Mrs. Peters said she refused to play. When she started to shout at her, the girl'd gone mad and bit her arm."
"Well, darling, what do you want me to do? Convince this girl not to bite her enemies?"
"I'd love you to do something to please me. Not for money or for your amusement."
This woman knew him well. At least that part of him which he was exposing to public.
"All right, But only under one condition. We must be alone. No other visitors, no 'guards'. Just her and me.
"I'll give you the case file..." the headmaster hurried.
"You don't need to do this. She will tell me everything herself."
Now, folks, I promise we'll follow games here.
Always yours,
Protégé.
A/N: as always I am going to include some songs. Forgive me for that. Your reviews are always appreciated, welcomed etc.
Have fun!
The Orphan.
Chapter 1. Little girl.
Her fingers seemed to live their own life. They still didn't want to obey her commands. No concentration at all. She was practicing scales for an hour, but with no visible result. However 'visible' wasn't quite the right word. Should she say 'hearable'?
And there was another refined torture waiting for her. Mozart. She hated Mozart. He was too light, bravura, frivolous for her. She couldn't take it. But her teacher said she was to play Rondo from the Second Vienne Sonatina. A great deal of work waiting under the seemingly easy music.
As much as she hated Mozart she loved Beethoven. But this kind of music was too complicated for her skills. She knew playing the piano was just a part of her education programme, not the main subect, not the purpose. It was only means to become a nice lady in a rude world outside.
It was not XIX century. We are no more white trash or niggers or slaves or owners. We have the Law which is equally merciless to everyone.
Concentrate, little girl. You sure don't want to see how angry Mrs. Peters can be.
"Miss Starling!"
No, not again. Don't shout, I hate shouting, I hate loud voices, stop, please, STOP!
"Miss Starling! I! Expect! You! Listen! To! ME!"
What have I done?
"Miss Starling! Stand up!"
The law is equally merciless for everyone. And a white trash is going to get some rod today. Spare a rod and spoil a child. That was surely Mrs. Peters' motto.
She is taking the rod. Although the rest of the world is living in XX century, we still are in XIXth. And noone from the rest of the world know about us. Poor little orphans. Girls without parents. Some of the girls actually had them, but they were too drunk to see the social institution stealing their children.
To be or not to be? Not to be. Not to be Clarice Starling anymore. Not to be a girl which earned the respect of the teachers by being clever and obedient. Not to be Clarice Starling who can't remember her own mother. Not to be Clarice Starling whose father's dead. Not to be Clarice Starling who failed to protect poor lambs from slaughtering. Not to be...
"Please, Doctor, I only want you to talk with her. Poor little creature. She was one of our best inmates until the incident. We don't know whether she's still normal. She's been with us only for two years – maybe she still can't cope with her past. With all the pain she has in her heart."
"Please, darling, do it for me. You know, I do care for those poor orphans." Woman's voice. Quite nice, though unpleasantly capricious notes in her voce visibly waited for an hour to appear on stage. "I'm staying here for three days, I have some business, you know." Noone actually knew and didn't want to know what the business was, but as she was giving the large sum of money for charity, the headmaster listened quietly, with the most pleasant smile she could give out. The man was watching both women and somewhere in the corner of his beautifully shaped mouth a Cheshire smile was hiding. The 'business' lady was his... emm... companion at the moment. A woman to satisfy his animal needs. Beautiful, indeed. Looks after herself. Not too young and not too old. And – not too boring. But all these 'charity' needs was only a debt to her own childhood – and he was first to hear that from this strong woman. Another orphan like me, he thought then. And here and now he's being asked to help another orphan. Not a woman, though. A girl.
"As much as I wish to help you, I must refuse," he said. "I've never worked wih children."
"I don't know what words to use to make you..." The woman stopped herself in the middle of the sentence. "It's no use. No use to telling you she needs help."
"What's her name again? And what has she done that you keep her closed?"
"She bit her music teacher."
Now that was interesting.
"Why?"
"We don't know. Mrs. Peters said she refused to play. When she started to shout at her, the girl'd gone mad and bit her arm."
"Well, darling, what do you want me to do? Convince this girl not to bite her enemies?"
"I'd love you to do something to please me. Not for money or for your amusement."
This woman knew him well. At least that part of him which he was exposing to public.
"All right, But only under one condition. We must be alone. No other visitors, no 'guards'. Just her and me.
"I'll give you the case file..." the headmaster hurried.
"You don't need to do this. She will tell me everything herself."
Now, folks, I promise we'll follow games here.
Always yours,
Protégé.