Disclaimer: if you haven't noticed these characters belong to Mr. T Harris.
The full, thick forest grasped all that did not usually occupy its crowded arms; engulfing these unusual inhabitants in confusion and loss. The only noises to be heard were the sounds of running water and feet breaking twigs and crushing leaves. Clarice held her breath, her fingers subconsciously crossed. "Oh my god, this guys a real son of a bitch." Her thoughts trailed off. Suddenly she was taken aback with the realization that she had not thought it, she had practically yelled it. "Go Starling! Real good." This time she whispered, turning to run once more. She could see the river just up ahead.
She bolted for its "green with winter" waters. However just as she first stepped off the loud crack of a blistering gun shot rang off into the sky. The only thoughts that ran through Clarice's head were of fear and death.
"The lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures." Her voice cracked, betraying her bravery and a large section of deception she had been taught to use. She immediately came to a halt and turned, facing her pursuer in the eye, not blinking once.
"He leadeth me beside still waters. He restoreth my soul." The man could see Clarice's lips mouthing words, and could hear the slight whisper of hardly spoken sentences. "Ahuh." It hit him. She was whispering the worlds to Psalm 23.
"He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yey, though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no…"
"Evil." His raspy, sickening voice echoed the finishing of the sentence. "Clarice the lord can't help you now"
The Psalm was taught to her as a child in the Lutheran orphanage. They had had to state it in front of one of the religious classes they were taking. If they hadn't memorized it all their knuckles would be hit several times with a metal ruler.
She began to slowly waltz backward, keeping her eyes locked on his. She was still chanting the Psalm. "For thou art with me."
"No he's not Clarice, he's never been there."
"Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me."
"Thou preparest a table blah blah blah, yada yada!" he screamed, his eyes fierce, her own gun pointed towards her stomach. "This is it, move!" she thought, turning and smashing leaves with her tired feet, the Psalm's words echoing in the corners of her mind, she could see the small river just ahead of her.
"Stop little birdy! I wanna pay with you!" he yelled, his voice taunting.
Suddenly Clarice's right knee buckled under her with a sharp, sizzling pain. Everything froze as it was, then it all seemed to be ripped back into place in a split second. The echoing of the gun was back, the sound of birds, the wind, and running water; she was being soaked with cold freezing water.
Her head ached with pain and cold. The only warmth she felt poured from her leg in crimson waves. She set her hands to work on her knee, her cold fingers protruding into the wound and causing immense pain. She swiftly pulled her hands back, not realizing that a tall dark figure now stood above her. Slowly she brought her hands back to the wound; she prepared herself for a large wave of pain that would soon wash over her spine. Her frozen fingers began to dig into the bloodied wound, searching for the sickly bullet, until finally it was removed and in her now rosy red hands. "Oh my god." She cringed, dropping the bullet and falling back in a mixture of pain and relief.
"Don't say the lord's name in vain Clarice." He laughed. He bent down and gently plucked her fro, the waters. She shook a great deal and dug her nails into his arms, each with out result. She finally gave up, overcome with pain and exhaustion. He gently rubbed her cut cheeks with his rough fingers.
"Gentle moon lay down your hands, for god has given his sweet plans to angels; their winged flight will give thy sight to mortals;" he began to sing the soft lyrics to her. Gradually her vision began to fail with each word. That song… I know…................
Hannibal stood in a Florentine museum humming a song he had heard once before, when he was very young. "Gentle moon lay down your hands, for god hmm hmm hmm his sweet plans to angels..."
A/N: I need reviews. Ok? Oh and special thanks to my friend Theresa for some thoughts.