Death and Rebirth
Mason Verger was a monster.
I am in a unique position to judge. I did belong to the Chesapeake Ripper for many years after all.
Mason Verger likes to abuse animals and children and his lovely sister Margot.
Fortunately I did not witness the first two but his boastful recountings were sickening enough.
But Margot? I witnessed his physical and mental cruelty too often.
That was not the extent of his sadism either. He spent his days speaking to politicians and religious leaders and heads of various organizations trying to make life harder for people.
He declared himself a Christian Nationalist and I quickly gathered that meant hating anyone not like him.
Which was pretty much everyone.
……………
The Vergers lived in a tasteless stone behemoth. It was modeled after European architecture but possessing none of the charm and beauty that distinguish such structures.
Clearly an earlier Verger had decided that the mansion would be a testament to the family’s success and it was as tasteless as the man who owned it.
I was placed in an elaborate library that was full of books that no one ever read. In fact none of them appeared to have ever been opened. Mason liked to sit as his oversized desk and speak on the phone about all of the evil that he wanted to do in the world.
I do not want to say that I missed Lecter but I certainly learned that there is always a worse monster to be found. And while I had previously despaired that the FBI hopelessly fumbled the Ripper investigation, the law at least acknowledged that he committed imprisonable acts. Much of what Mason did was actually legal and his money shielded him from punishment for his non-legal acts.
And as for me? I seemed to have been purchased simply due to the Lecter connection. Margot had been the psychiatrist’s patient and Mason blamed him for encouraging Margot to assert her independence. In his twisted mind acquiring one of Lecter’s former possessions was the equivalent of revenge.
To that end, he regularly stuck his knife in me. It did not hurt, of course, but the bastard seemed to believe that it did. He would look at my growing scratches and chipping veneer and genuinely ask what Lecter would do if he saw the state of his poor friend the ladder.
A lifetime of not communicating with people and the first person to actually talk to me was a crazy Nazi bastard with daddy issues.
His other favorite activity was to slide around the library on me while yelling:
“Weeeee!!!!! Look at me, Papa!!!! Look at ME!!!!”
I hated him.
He had to die.
…………..
Unfortunately Mason had also decided that someone had to die.
His intended victim was Alana Bloom and her crime was loving his sister.
Mason asked Margot to come into the library one morning and suggested that she invite Alana to dinner the following evening. She looked at him with suspicion and asked why he was suddenly interested.
Mason acted offended and said that he just wanted to know the woman for whom his beloved sister was willing to risk eternal damnation.
He finished by saying that he was sure that they could have some good, funny times.
I began to will Margot to look at me and to my surprise she did. Her expression was wistful, no doubt recalling the happier times in Lecter’s office. Mason was always watching his sister and chances to see her lover were rare since the closing of the office.
I willed her to touch me and she reached out a finger to run along the most recent gouge in my wood.
I concentrated as hard as I could on the image of Mason feeding Alana to his pigs and she suddenly gasped in realization.
“Something wrong, dear sister?” Mason drawled.
Honestly the sound of that man’s voice….
“No, just surprised by the damage to your new ladder. You should take better care of your things,”
“Oh, I take care of everything that belongs to me, Margot. As you should know.”
Margot excused herself then to make dinner plans.
I could only wait.
…………….
The following evening the dinner hour arrived but no one other than Mason and Margot were in the house.
No Alana.
No henchman.
No servants or kitchen staff either.
An irate Mason began to angrily call for everyone.
But Margot then explained that she given the staff the night off and that she had not summoned Alana.
“I did invite a couple friends though.”
Those friends, of course, were Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham. Both men entered with blood on their clothes.
“I apologize for our disheveled appearance but we just finished feeding your friends to the pigs,” Lecter said politely. He was wearing a three piece suit. I knew immediately that in his mind it would have been rude to dress down for the evening, even when the party was a farce and the plan was to murder the host.
“That just leaves you,” Graham added.
They subdued Verger in a matter of seconds. The doctor gave him a drug cocktail that made him very pliable.
“I could tell him to cut off his nose right now and not only would he comply but he would feel no pain.”
Will Graham cocked his head in curiosity.
“I’m sorry that we cannot test that,” he said with genuine disappointment in his voice.
But Mason’s death had to look like an accident.
And for that to happen, I, too, would have to die.
They had him climb to my third highest rung and they then began to slide me fast and hard, pushing me forcefully between the two of them. On the fourth go it was enough for my rollers to skip the tracks and Mason and I tipped over.
I heard two loud cracks.
One was me. Both the left and right beams of my frame broke at several points along with multiple rungs.
The other was Mason Verger’s back. He lay there repeating “Look at me, Papa. Look at me.”
It was perhaps the most bizarre moment in the life of a very bizarre man.
Finally Lecter ended things by snapping his neck.
“Pity,” he said looking at my destroyed frame. “It was a fine ladder.”
And with that I slowly began to fade away with a regretful Hannibal Lecter at my side.
……………………..
I was reborn in a factory, the sound of rolling conveyor belts and the smell of hickory filling my senses.
A simple ladder, longer than before, extendable to forty feet. Smooth but plain surface. Practical and solidly built for years of hard work.
I was purchased by a construction firm and loaded onto a truck and taken from site to site. We build solid houses and restaurants and retail spaces. I am proud of our accomplishments and the good people that I work with.
My name is #12 and it is painted on my surface in red. It might sound impersonal but to be a member of a team and regularly requested by name was all that I had wanted.
The past is steadily fading. Soon it will be forgotten although I suppose that I would remember if I were to see Lecter or Graham again.
I hope that I do not. I have earned my peace.