LA VITA NEL CIELO
Nine years later, Clarice has been transferred to New York State Penitentiary. She remains incarcerated after having been charged and proven guilty of assisting in the escape of, and then living with under illegal circumstances, the serial killer Hannibal Lecter.
Click. Slam. Soft footsteps. An awkward pause. Footsteps. Slam. Click. Clarice's dinner has been placed in front of her.
"Thank you kindly, Paul." Clarice said sweetly. The guard looked at her and flashed her a quick grin. She smiled inwardly reminiscing after hearing herself speak the guard's name. How ironic, perhaps.
She ate the less than adequate food silently, looking quite peaceful and calm. Indeed that was how she was superficially. Inside, however, she had created an elaborate palace much like to the one she and Hannibal had shared years ago. It was her paradise. She had stored all of her pleasures, great moments, and special times there. She often recalled quite vividly the night that Hannibal had told her to hold onto her illusions. They really were illusions in the plain, white cell in which she resided.
It had been seven years since anyone had come to see her. She was last visited by Ardelia, and two of her friends from the FBI. They had come to deliver some of her things that she would be allowed to keep with her. It wasn't much. In fact, she hardly needed it.
She spent most of her time wandering through paradise searching for Hannibal. She had never found him, to her dismay. She was so distraught that she could not conjure up scenarios involving her beloved doctor. It was simply too overwhelming for her. She found it best to avoid thinking of him. It eased the pain of losing him.
Loneliness and despair covered up be denial had transformed Dr. Lecter's fearless, beautiful Clarice into a caged bird whose captivity has prevented him from flying. Doubtlessly, everyone she knew had forgotten about her.
Once again held at the mercy of her paradise, Clarice wandered through her old West Virginia town comforted by the face of her father. Her beloved Daddy who would protect the town from the most evil of evils. No doubt he would have protected her from the hell she was living now had he not been taken away from her. She relived the wonderful times she had spent with friends from her childhood, piano lessons, running through the forest, tasting wines, exquisite dinners. She even recalled time she had spent with Ardelia, despite her bitter betrayal.
The smell of spice and sweat wafted into Clarice's cell, rousing her from her reverie. She sat immediately upright, facing the opposing wall. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and her hands rested loosely at her sides.
"Why, hello Paul. Have you come to take away the aftermath of this delicious meal?"
"Yes, Miss Starling," the guard replied. "If you don't mind."
"Oh, not at all. Give my compliments to the chef, would you? I could not bear to let myself live knowing that he is not aware of his… obvious talent."
"Can do, Miss Starling." Paul left her slightly amused.
Settling back into her cot for her evenings rest, she suddenly felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. She stood, trying to get herself to the nearby sink for water, but managed only to get halfway across the cell before she sank to the ground. She felt a hot, burning sensation in the back of her head.
Suddenly, a smooth and wonderfully welcomed, familiar voice struck her ears, "Clarice, is that you? You have evaded me for so long… why is that, Clarice? Are you frightened to think of me?"
Sharp pain shot through Clarice's body from the base of her neck out to her right hand. She writhed upon the cold hard floor, not making more than a whimper.
"Answer me," the voice insisted.
"I am sorry, Hannibal," Clarice whispered. "I thought it was you who evaded me. I could not bear to think of you when the very notion of it makes my hear want to splinter at the center and fold out into a quivering mass of grief."
"Understood, Clarice, but I have missed you. I have long wandered the halls of my palace and found your usual spot empty. Although much of my time was spent with my beloved Mischa, you cannot believe that you would go overlooked. Did you think I would overlook you?"
Another sharp pain ripped through Clarice and she groped the wall to find the sink. No such luck.
"I didn't think you would overlook me, Doctor. I didn't know how to find you. Forgive me."
There was a sigh. The burning in Clarice's head did not stop. "Now you have had a taste of my life in prison. It is not pleasant, but I commend you on your surviving this long. You have been courteous to your guards, and fairly accepting to your situation. You have waited long in your Godforsaken cell and your patience has not gone unrewarded. You remain to be the same brave Clarice as always. All that is different is the media with which you work. You have not been catching criminals, or coaxing flowers from the soft earth. You have been creating a wonderful paradise. That is what I wanted.
"But now, Clarice, I think you deserve to be taken from this crude lifestyle and delivered from your hell. Yes, Clarice, for these past years I have not forgotten you. Not in the least. Come with me now, and you will see." More intense burning caused Clarice to breathe heavily, whimpering softly. Another sharp pain from the top of her head down to her feet caused her to scream suddenly until the burning grew unbearable. Then, she knew nothing but darkness.
"Clarice, open your eyes," Hannibal whispered.
She felt him kiss her gently, and then she did as she was told. She was overcome by the sight beheld to her. She was in a garden infinitely greater and more beautiful than the one she had maintained in France. There was a lovely terrace with a golden table set with dark plates, and burgundy candles. The silverware glistened in the sunlight flooding through the apple blossom trees. Beautiful symphonic music poured into the scene from every direction and mixed with the sound of flowing water. At the edge of the terrace was situated a large, lion-shaped fountain that seemed to spout delectable, golden honey. Rare and wonderful birds complimented the setting with their reds, blues and greens, and curled up at the base of the table was a tiny, white lamb.
There were several other sights that Clarice took notice of, but unfortunately we could not comprehend them for they were elements of the afterlife beheld only to them. She was awestruck by the powerful beauty that surrounded her. Had she possessed the ability to breathe, she would have lost her breath, and her heart would have exploded with joy.
Perhaps the most exciting aspect of this heaven was the sight of Hannibal in a fine suit with a deep red tie, his now long, dark hair pulled back into an elegant ponytail. His eyes glistened with admiration of her. At his side stood a small child with delicate, blond locks falling around her shoulders.
"Mischa," Clarice whispered.
Mischa smiled brightly and ran to Clarice. She spoke no words, but grabbed Clarice's hand and pulled her to the table that Clarice now noticed was set for three. They enjoyed a perfect dinner of heavenly delights.
After the dinner, Clarice asked no questions about where she was or how she got there. She was simply happy. The dinner slowly melted away into an oblivion ultimately more exciting and wonderful than anything on Earth. It was the epitome of their euphoria. A flawless combination of Hannibal's palace and Clarice's paradise. There would be no more suffering, no more law conflictions, no more death, pain, hiding, or rejections.
There was no room for any of it where they were.
So it was noted that Clarice M. Starling died in her cell for unknown reasons. Autopsies showed no sign of a stroke, seizure, disease or outside trauma. It was simply an inexplicable phenomenon.