Pay the Piper

This is a version of "The Pied Piper of Hamelin" that I made. It was fun!

Hmm? Oh for goodness sake go away! Never in my life do I want some nosy hands picking me up from this shelf. Granted I've been here for ages, long, long ages. But either still, do you not know the dangers I hold? It's my doing that so many of those children drowned in - oh, I apologize, you've never heard the story? Is that good, ? Meaning you've never had an incident when you were told a great lesson held within my tale? Or are you just uneducated? Hmm, not my problem. Either way, this story started long ago before your time...

Before I continue on, I shall say that my name and my owner's name are none of your business, so for now, refer to me as the Pipe, and my owner the Pied Piper. You see, my previous owner, a musically talented traveler, had stumbled upon a quaint little town called Hamelin, Germany, though, there was one problem with this place. The rats. They were everywhere. In the streets, alleys, homes, markets, his feet. There were big rats. Little rats. Old rats and baby rats. Rats of every color and shape. Even the cats couldn't do anything! The townspeople marveled at his pied clothing, which merely means he wore colorful clothing, mind you, as he appeared. 

A man approached us, a desperate, sad look on his face, "Sir, I'm afraid your travel to this place comes in vain, for we are suffering from a devastating rat infestation." He explained, "I, as mayor, wish to provide you with more, but alas, I can't." He sighed, shaking his head.

The Pied Piper gave a clever smirk, eyes narrowing, he said to the townspeople: "I will get rid of the rats." Either my hearing wasn't quite keen, or he offered help, I felt surprised, but nonetheless impressed with his generosity. Then again, the mayor was offering ten pounds of gold to anyone who would get rid of the rats, and a traveler depends heavily on money.

The mayor glanced to me, a simple, yet remarkable - if I do say so myself - pipe. His frown became a grin, "Please, if you can, the gold is all yours!" He exclaimed. Pied Piper nodded, raising me, and began to play, an odd but wonderful tune I - I mean the Piper - could play!

The rats throughout the town heard the tune, and scurried as they followed us, the musical notes wrapping them into a trance, the chattering had ceased, I liked those rats much better when they were quiet, but I still dislike the ugly things.

After a long while march, the Piper stopped at a river, lips curved in a smirk. If you were to say that the Piper can be unsettling, yes, but he's very clever. He continued the tune, but pointed the rats to the lake. One by one, the rats entered the river, surprised squeals as the water engulfed them. You can guess what happened after that.

The Piper and I returned to the town to collect our reward. But, since their problem was solved, those ungrateful people refused us our rightful reward! If I could speak back then, I would've given them an earful of painful chords and notes!

The Piper - and I - were very angry. "You dare break our promise! I'll teach you a lesson you shall never forget!" He shouted.  At that, we left.

On Saint John and Paul's Day we returned when the inhabinats were attending church, and almost instantly he began to play. Instead of rats, though, he attracted the children.

Possibly 130 children followed, only three to be left behind. One who was lame, or injured, if you're not familiar with the term, another deaf, who followed out of curiosity, and a blind child, who alerted the adults of what was happening.

He lured the poor children into a cave, locking them in, refusing to free them when the town demanded their children free. With that, though I felt some sympathy for the town, we left, never to be seen again. 

And that, my friend, is the story of the Pied Piper of Hamelin. The years have led me to this dusty, lonely shelf, in some run down building, telling such an old story to young people such as yourself. I feel satisfied to tell one with willing ears my story, because it is a rather depressing sight to see, but, I bid you fair well,