Loving Lecter Archive Index Header

Recent Acquisitions

All Stories by Theme

All Stories by Author

All Stories by Title - A - F

All Stories by Title - G - L

All Stories by Title - M - S

All Stories by Title - T - Z

Appetizers - Short Works

Challenge Section

Crossover Stories

Works in Verse

Other Lecterfic Sites

Fanfic on the Web

Author's Resources

Submission Guide

Browse Main Index

Soul Food

copyright 2003, by TalismanicalOne

Disclaimer:    These characters were created by Thomas Harris.  They are used herein without permission, but in the spirit of admiration and respect.  No infringement of copyright is intended, and no profit, of any kind, is made by the creator, maintainer or contributors to this site.

Send Feedback to Author

"Clarice, I must say you are best refrigerated."

"Go to Hell, Doctor."

"Will you hold my cloven hoof, Clarice? Polish my horns periodically?"

"Fuck you."

"Never have words been so succinct since 'Jesus wept.' Though I find them much... more... moving."

"Step back, Doctor."

"Or what, Clarice, risk being knocked unconscious by a slab of streak o' lean? Choked by a link of venison sausage? Blinded by flying crumbs of corn bread?"

"Oh sweet Jesus, not you too."

"Not me too what, Clarice? And do not make that face... I suppose it was one of your mother's many failings that she did not tell you it could freeze that way."

"Well, if we had some broken glass and some dogs you could take care of it for me now couldn't you, Doctor?"

"I assure you Clarice, should I take the notion, I could orally manipulate the features off of your face."


"Yeah. So is your aversion to the word cornbread. Enlighten me, please."

"Krendler called me a cornpone country pussy. And cunt. Take your pick."

"He won't anymore. By the way, are you offering?"

"No. He just verbalized what I suspect my superiors condemn me by."

"Shame, though it is a true thing you speak. Can you make cornbread, Clarice?"

"I can. Let me go. I want to go home. By the way, I didn't call anyone. Felt like the... wrong thing to do."

"I know. Do you add onions to it?"

"What? Oh. That would be a hushpuppy, Doctor. Besides, onion doesn't go with buttermilk. And cornbread goes best with buttermilk."

"Does it? I am going to touch you now, Clarice."


"Not 'No', not 'please God don't.' Excellent."

"It hurts..."

"I know. Time will heal, but it will be sore. Just relax now, Clarice, I am going to clean the wound. Peroxide can sting a bit but I am afraid the gain outweighs the pain... "

"Does it."

"In this case... Tell me, do you hurt... here?"

"Oh, Jesus. No."

"Good, Clarice... what about here... when I do this...?"

"No! Yes! No..."

"And what does this feel like.. when I put my tongue here?"

"What is happening to me... no, please God don't answer.. don't stop."


"Don't! Hannibal, I will kill you... if you... stop"

"Mmmmmm. Well. I did it."

"Huh... mmm.. did what?"

"Orally manipulated that smirk from your face."

"So it didn't freeze. Just chilled a bit. I'm hungry... "

"It would seem so. Let me get that handle for you. What have we in here? Hmmm... ah, Fortune, she does smile upon us."

"White Lily should do. Now that's quality cornmeal."



Author's Note: The Clarice apartment does exist, and there are a few lovely pictures of it available on the net.

copyright 2003, by TalismanicalOne

Send Feedback to Author


Site Copyright 2001 by Loving Lecter - The Fan Fiction Site.

This fan fiction site exists to honor characters created by Thomas Harris.
No infringement of rights is intended and no profit, of any kind, is made.