The Sweet Sound of Savagery

This is yet another one of my savage twists on a common fairy tales, can you guess which one it is? Warning, gore and scary images ahead.

The old man sat hunched next to the fire, his eyes shadowed with the ghost of his past. His eyes flickered with a passing memory and were dulled by the cataracts that had settled over his vision. His beard was greyed, speckled with flecks of grime and food that he cared not to be rid of. The clothes that covered his weary ancient bones were tattered and torn, hardly keeping the man covered let alone warm. As if he was aware of the state of his clothing the man leaned forwards, hoping to catch some of the warmth that the fire was trying to throw to him. But the warmth was snatched and choked off by the bitter cold, making the man shiver.

He was sitting in a small bar, which was winding down for the night. The men that were left clutched their wooden steins in their greedy fingers, unwilling to let their spirits go to anyone but them. One has his face down on the table, a pool of slime collected under his lips as he snored. The old man was hunched next to the large fireplace, but felt none of the warmth and the light that it was generating. He never felt anything any more.

A small movement in the corner of his eye made him turn and he was startled to see a small boy. The boy smiled, his eyes wide with curious wonder as he sidled up next to the old man and sat down. His feet kicked absently, dangling high above the ground as he rested on the stool. He looked up at the old withered man who looked away.

"Go back to where you came from boy," The man grunted gruffly, "You do not belong here in this place."

"Is it true?" The boy asked, completely perplexed. "Is it true you know the story?"

The old man huffed, his eyes closing as another ghost of a memory passed over his eyes. "I told you to leave."

"But I need to know, and they tell me that you know what happened. They say that you were there," The boy insisted. "And they haven't lied to me before."

"If they said to you that I would tell you what happened they are mistaken," The old man said, blinking away a tear that was drowned in his beard, "That is not a story that anyone ever needs to hear. Ever."

The boy opened his mouth to speak, but the man raised his hand sharply to silence him, his leathery skin cracking with the movement. "I don't want to hear another word boy. Now get back to your mother before I teach you a lesson in respecting your elders."

The boy didn't say another word as he slowly turned and walked back the way he had come. Just before he disappeared from the man's sight, he turned and gave him one last forlorn look, before leaving and delving into the darkness. The old man dropped his head, looking down not at the floor, but at the memory that was bubbling in his brain like a vesicle of mercury. Tears burned his eyes at the thoughts scorched his brain and he shuddered. Against his will they clawed at his vision, making him relive all of the terrible things he had seen that day.

The day the pied piper came.

He closed his eyes and the world delved away around him, mixing with the mottled colours of his memory. The world lurched and shifted as the hands on the clock whirled incessantly backwards, racing towards the day he wanted to not remember. The day that he wished beyond wish that he could forget. When he opened his eyes, the tavern that he had been sitting in was gone, and thick trees blocked his vision from every angle.

His heart sunk into his chest as he walked through the trees, his feet forcing him to move back through everything that had happened. Wishing that something would stop the series of memories that had been set in motion, or that he could somehow change what he knew was coming but his feet plodded forwards mechanically, trudging on against his will.

He emerged from the forest, which crested on a hill to overlook the town that he had lived in all that time ago. From where he stood he would see the clay tiled roofs of the small chapel and the school. Further back from that were all of the houses, seated comfortably in the crests of the rolling hills. A small winding road led into the town and on the other side was a deep river that allowed for boats to come and deliver their stashes of valuables and trade.

But with the boats had come the trouble that the small town had faced.

Rats.

The careless crews of the boats had brought the vermin with them, and now they were taking over the small town. From on top of the hill it looked normal enough but the man knew that it was a sweet façade, hiding the terror that the rats had created within. The insidious creatures had taken over the innocent people and were wreaking havoc everywhere they managed to go.

The man started to walk down the hill, his heart just as heavy as it had been that day.  He looked down at the small green plant that he had clutched between his warm fingers. A tear snaked down his bulbous nose as he walked, heading back to the place that was still so familiar no matter how much he tried to forget. His feet took him past shops and groceries, all darkened and closed because of what the rats had done to them.

When the rodents arrived they quickly took over the town, spreading like a fatal disease. They ate everything that they had access to, as they ripped through bags and boxes like tissue paper. Their ravenous hunger never seemed to cease, and they were quickly consuming the town. Every scrap of food was starting to disappear, and people were beginning to be desperate for a solution, but that was hardly the worst that the rats had done.

The man stopped in front of an old wooden door, hesitating with all his might. He willed everything to stop right there, he didn't want to relive the memory any longer, but he had no say in the matter. His wrinkled hand moved to the door and pushed it open revealing the interior of a small house.

His house.

His heart throbbed with the memory as he stepped into the building his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Before the rats came the house had smelled of freshly baked bread, spices and herbs. But as he walked into the room the smell of death and decay slammed into his nose like a blow from a sledgehammer. The pungent tinge of rotting flesh made him want to run back out of the house to gag and wretch until the bad taste left his mouth, but his feet dragged him deeper into the interior.

As he walked through the opening in the wall and the smell intensified, making his stomach churn with disgust. He had stepped into a bedroom and tucked into the corner was a small threadbare bed. Lying in the bed, her face paler than the whitest of snow, was a small girl.

The old man knelt next to the bed, his hand covering the smooth skin of the girls. Her eyes fluttered and opened, thin cracks etched on her face as a smile played across her lips.

"Hello daddy," She breathed, barely audible.

"Hey baby," The man spoke, reciting the words he had said a thousand times. "Daddy brought you something that is going to make you better."

He held up the small green plant, its leaves already drooping with the realization. "I am going to make this all go away."

"That is good daddy," The little girl whispered her eyes closing again. "I want to see the stars." Her chest rose and fell slowly and her fingers went limp in his. The man hung his head, his eyes catching on the little girls tiny arm.

In the centre of her right forearm was a welt, the size of a large coin. The skin around it was ringed bright red and purple veins snaked underneath her skin. Black and green bruises mottled her skin as if someone had hit her, and it was staring to spread. The man had awoken to her screaming in the middle of the night, crying and clutching at her arm as the fiend scampered into the darkness . A rat had bitten her while she was sleeping, and the wound had festered over the span of a few hours. The girls skin was hotter than a branding iron, and the plant that the man had was meant to bring down her fever and fight the infection.

He quickly mashed the plant into a paste in a bowl before slathering it over the terrible wound and bandaging it. He sat there for hours next to the bed, listening to his daughters ragged breathing as she slept fitfully.

He only looked up when the door opened and another man ran into the house. His face twisted at the smell and he stopped just outside the door to the room. He stopped, breathless, before starting to speak his voice strained and excited.

"You have to go to the square," he stuttered, "they found someone to help!"

"They found someone to help my daughter?" He asked, knowing full well what the answer to the question was.

"No, they found someone to get rid of all the rats!" The man said, "maybe they can help with your daughter too!"

The man turned to the little girl as she rested in the small bed, losing more and more colour as the time ticked by. "I will watch her when you are gone, but you are her father. You should be the one that asks him for his help."

"Why do you think this man can help me? Or even get rid of the rats for that matter? Everything that we have tried has failed! The beasts are immune to our poisons, they evade our traps and steal our food from beneath our fingers. How do you think this man in going to get rid of them?"

"They say he is a sorcerer," The man said, "and if that is true he can save her before it is too late."

The man looked down at the little girl, knowing the series of events that would play out as they had before. He kissed her forehead gently, her skin fiery against his lips before he turned and swept out the door. His feet were moving furiously now, breaking into a run towards the next tragedy.

He drew to a stop at the group of people that had gathered in the dirty square. The man bobbed through the crowd, darting around the people as he tried to see what was happening. He could hear the voice of the mayor, booming over the hushed tones of the people around him before the crowd parted and he could see.

The mayor was standing atop the run down stage that stood in the middle of the square. His clothes were dulled and worn and the shiny medal around his neck was the only hint that he was the man that held the power of the town. The person that stood next to him sent a shiver down the man's spine.

The stranger was tall and lanky, and he was dressed in a fine suit composed of bright red and yellow material. His face was bony and his chin jutted out from the bottom on his face. His hair and eyes were wild, and his teeth were straight and white. He flashed a smile, showing cunning charm.  Dark red leather gloves smothered his hands and his fingers were closed around a silver flute. From where the man stood, he would see that the keys were inlaid with gold and a delicate pattern twisted around the instrument.

"This man that stands before you, claims that he can rid us all of the pests that have plagued our land! This man is going to rid us of the vile vermin once and for all!" The mayor said, motioning to the stranger. "What do you want for your services my good friend?"

The man stepped forwards and smiled, his lips curling over his teeth to border a sneer as he looked out over the crowd. When he spoke, his voice was low and velvety. "The only thing I require, is a hundred gold coins."

The mayor hesitated for a second, his brain milling over the idea before he clapped his hands. "It is agreed then. You rid us of our infestation and we will grant you a fund of one hundred gold coins."

The man bowed low, a grin creeping across his face. "Then you all had better brace for a show."

With a flourish he straightened and raised his flute to his lips. Then ever so slowly he started to play. The notes that came from the instrument were the sweetest that the man had ever heard in his life, but they rung with a bitter aftertaste. The melody lulled in and out, weaving beautiful notes together in a tapestry of sound. People in the square started to gasp and point and the man turned to look.

As the magician spun his spidery tune, the ground around the houses started to stir. Thousands of small furry bodies scampered out of holes in the sides of houses, clustering as they were called to the music. Their red eyes glowed dimly, lulled into a trance by the notes that the man was playing. He continued to play and the rats passed underfoot, disregarding everyone around them as they followed the strange man. Their tails dragged behind them and the sound of thousands of feet pattering filled the air.

People grabbed sticks and hammers and killed as many rats as they pleased, as the animals did nothing to defend their lives. They simply carried on in a seething horde behind the man as he started the walk to the river.  Walking as if he were atop a cloud, his feet barely touched the ground as he moved, his flute pressed delicately to his lips.

The crowd followed him, as entranced as the rats, as the man stepped out into the pier. The rats followed, completely unaware of the danger that they were in. They were blind to what was happening as the man stood at the end of the dock and the speed of the music changed. The tempo rocketed to a crescendo and the movements of the rats became more agitated. Then they poured of the edge of the dock and into the water as a brown and black waterfall.

Their bodies writhed in the water, screaming in fear but the rats that followed paid no heed to their warnings. They plunged to their deaths, as if anxious to meet with the frigid water as the musician continued to play. The sound of thousands of thrashing bodies filled the air, but the music swelled over top of the clamour to keep them under its command. As the music swelled the last of the rats committed themselves to the dark brooding water, and everything fell silent.

The man dropped his hand, staying the instrument at his side before his left hand stretched out in front of him. "My payment."

The mayor bristled as he stepped forwards. "You fool!" He bellowed looking down at the bloated bodies that clogged the river. "This is where we draw our drinking water! You have doomed us all!"

The man's smile failed to waver. "I understood that my job was to remove the rats. If you wished for it to have been done in another manner you should have expressed that," He hissed his voice coated with a bite of frost.

"I am not going to give you anything." The mayor snarled, "When you have single handedly put us into a worse position than we were when you came here!"

"I wish to receive my payment," The man said his eyes darkening. His voice was laced with acid as his gaze dropped. "Give it to me, or you will pay more than you could possibly imagine."

"You are an abomination!" The mayor bellowed, "Now leave before I have you hanged!"

The piper dropped his head, his right hand twitching ever so slightly.

"Fine," He said, an evil grin crawling across his face as he raised his eyes, "This way is much more fun anyways."

As he looked up everyone gasped and stepped back. The pipers face had completely changed, his eyes were bloodshot orbs hidden among his sunken cheeks. His teeth were red rimmed and rotting, dripping out of his gums like bad tears. His hair was greasy and matted and his suit had become veined with black, like someone had stabbed it with an ink quill. He raised his flute to his lips and the instrument started to move, the gold inlays lifting off of the instrument and wiggling in the air like skewered snakes.

The piper started to play series of harsh notes that screeched in the air. People wailed and covered their ears but the sound beat into their skulls. The notes were like physical blows, beating each of them to their knees and rendering them helpless so they could do nothing more than watch.

One of the women started screaming with pain, and the man tuned his head to look back before his heart leapt into his throat and choked him. The village children were starting to come towards them, their eyes widened with fear. Each of them had their left hand extended out in front of them, as if an invisible man was pulling them forwards. The children wailed and tears poured down their faces in terror as the unseen force dragged them to the piper.

The man tried to fight but every time he moved the notes would intensify, drilling into his ear canals like wasps. None of them could do anything as the large group of children were dragged to the pipers feet, crying and pulling at their unseen captors. The man scanned through the group of children, not seeing his beloved daughter in with the rest.

He couldn't help but feel the tiniest twinge of happiness, they had forgotten her. The women in the crowd wailed as the notes leapt up an octave, launching themselves to a level that was beyond the human limit. Blood poured from everyone's ears and a harsh wind started to blow around the piper and the children. The gusts whipped his hair around the pipers face, matching them to the pace of the golden snakes on his flute as they slowly rose into the air. The children hung in the air like struggling raindrops, suspended in the harsh magic of the music. 

The notes intensified again, drilling a white hot shard into the man's brain as the children started to scream. Their bodies jerked and thrashed like puppets on strings and the notes cut through their innocent flesh. Blood fell like rain onto the ground as the children cried in pain and terror. Screams and notes filled the air as the children bucked from where they were hanging.

The notes paused for a second, injecting the air with a deadly silence before each of the children moved at the same moment. Their backs and limbs slowly started to bend to impossible angles and the sound of crunching bones scattered the harsh quiet. The children's mouths were open, bellowing silently as the snapping intensified, their bodies jerking like hooked fish. Blood splattered wetly on the ground as the children slowly fell limp, bent like twigs in the ruthless hands of the magic.

The music started again, blasting at an impossible resonance before the children were plunged into the water. Their broken arms and legs milled among the bloated bodies of the drowned rats, in a pathetic attempt to save themselves. The music held their heads under the water, framing their terrified faces forever under the rippling glass. The melody continued to play, and one by one the children fell still. Then with one final booming note and a flash of light, the piper was gone.

The weighted silence that ensued hung heavily in the air for a few seconds before people started to scream. Wails filled the air as people looked upon the bodies of their beloved children. The man stood, looking out over the sea of tattered flesh and shattered bone, covering the surface of the water like oil.

But he cared not for the children in the river.

He turned on his heel, his breath ragged and muted in his deafened ears as his feet took him back to his home. His heart pounded loudly in his head and his ears throbbed in his skull, but he ran. The rounded corners and his house came into sight, seemingly untouched by the horrors that he had just seen. His limbs struggled onwards, fighting the fatigue that the music has threaded into his muscles.

He pushed open the door and bolted into the room before he stopped, his heart in his throat. Ever so slowly, he dropped to his knees, tears flooding his eyes and blocking his sight. Then, he raised his face to the sky and yelled, his voice adding to the tune of sorrow that was being sung in the small town. For the moment he set foot into the room he had seen why his daughter had not been included in the group of children. He had seen why she had somehow been miraculously spared.

He had seen her eyes, wide open and eternal in death, searching for the stars. 

Author's Note

So I am really proud of this story, but I am not about to turn a deaf ear (haha) to anyone with creative criticism. Credit for the cover photo goes to: http://karichristensen.deviantart.com/art/Filth-Rat-23405394 karichristensen on deviantart.

Reviews

[Woody]

blood and gore, did you say? and crunched bones and putrid flesh and festering wounds. BRRRR! You're a merciless writer! But you're very good at what you do.
I, personally haven't seen any flaws except little typos here and there.
gripping read my friend.

[Darkimmortal]

LOL I did warn you that I write horror, with plenty of gore in it. :p And I did look over this for typos and such, but I guess that I missed a few of them and will have to look it over again. Thank you very much for the review and your kind words. :)

[Woody]

my pleasure entirely :)