Pied
Piper Sequel
(Story by Holly Muir)
All
the rats infesting Hamelin had followed the Pied Pier out of the town and were
drowned in the river Weser – except one that reached the far bank. And then
the children of Hamelin followed the Piper and disappeared into a cave that
opened up in the hillside. All the children that is except one, who was lame….
A boy sat lazily on the grass, watching the
clouds sail by. Cloud watching was the way that Peter relaxed. He forgot the
worries and troubles of life and daydreamed. Sometimes he even forgot about his
bad leg, which was not easy to do.
Peter sat up. The view was brilliant. To the south was Hamelin town with its neat gardens and the church with the famous glass window, telling the story of the Pied Piper. To the East were the mountains covered in gorse and wild rabbits. To the West was the river Weser. To the South, behind him, was the mountain up which the children of Hamelin had danced and then disappeared. That is all except one – him, Peter. He had danced, yes, but his limp had held him back. The piper had promised to heal his bad leg and to free him of pain. But he couldn’t keep up.
He was the only child Hamelin town had now. Every woman in the town was
too old to have babies. Their only hope was Peter, which meant he
had to marry! That was the reason Hamelin town had persuaded Rebecca Williams
and her family to move there.
Rebecca was a horrible girl, Peter had to admit. Her parents had spoiled
her rotten. She was bossy and rude to everyone. But the townspeople put up with
her while she ordered sweets, expensive dresses and presents for herself. She
hated Hamelin town and Hamelin town hated her.
Neither wanted to marry, but the town was insistent. Peter wished he had
made it to the mountain. That was some time ago now, but there was still a
longing in Peter’s heart, a longing for freedom. Many a time he had scoured
the hillside for some sort of secret entrance or trapdoor, finding nothing but
hares and gorse.
The only trace of the story was the glass window in the church and the
electric fence surrounding the top of the hill. Revenge on the Piper, they said.
Peter didn’t think so.
Tail-less’s View
A rat snoozed in the afternoon sunlight, which filtered through cracks in the wall. The rat rolled over and yawned loudly. He got up and stretched his paws. He sniffed carefully, whiskers alert and ears pricked, swishing his pink stump of a tail.
No smell of any furlesses, apart from the smell of Bad Food, the blue
pellets which made rats breathless. One of the furlesses must have seen him.
Furlesses were
very odd things. They were huge and clumsy with no sense of smell or hearing at
all. They talked in a strange gabbling language, but strangest of all were their
lack of tails and fur. Maybe that was why they dressed themselves in coloured
strips, to make up for fur.
It would be another typical day: hunt for food, eat, sleep and so on. And
not the tiniest sign of another rat. Maybe Tail-less was the last rat, who
knows. He had come from a place with lots of food, where rats almost ruled and
the furlesses had hated them, he remembered that.
But the rest wasn’t so clear. There had been a strange furless, who had
not been a furless at all, yet smelt almost like one. There was just a hint of
freedom and a far-away land. He had made a beautiful sound, a song so sad, yet
happy, that told the rats to follow – to a place without furlesses or danger.
Then there was the dark cold wet, which filled Tail-less up, almost making him
breathless but not quite. All Tail-less’s family and friends became breathless
and sank into the dark, cold wet for ever.
But it was all fading now like a bad dream. Dreams were bad. They
distracted you and made you forget danger. Tail-less knew that and his tummy was
thinking about food.
Rain poured down as Peter limped back home, his hair and clothes soaked
already. That was the trouble with cloud watching – you were too busy
daydreaming to notice the black clouds looming overhead. You only noticed when
the drops started to fall.
It was hard hurrying home with his bad leg, and every now and then white,
hot shards of pain shot up and down it. Peter slowed to a walk – his mum and
dad would be furious.
There was his garden: the tiny plastic chair and wellies three sizes too
small! All to show off, to boast we’ve got the only kid in Hamelin town, come
see! Mum and dad always made such a fuss. Peter leant against the wall,
breathing hard. He waited for the pain in his leg to subside and then walked
through the door.
“Peter!” His mother ran and gave him a big hug. “Don’t you
disappear on us again!”
“Where’s dad?” asked Peter absentmindedly.
“Your father’s upstairs,” replied his mother. “David, dear,
Peter’s here,” she called. There were loud footsteps and his father
appeared.
“What have we told you about going off alone for a long time!”
Peter’s father shouted.
“You could have slipped and hurt yourself!” cried his mother,
sniffing tearfully.
“Sorry!” sighed Peter. His mum and dad smiled.
“That’s all right dear, but be careful next
time.”
Peter hurried down the road, very excited. The storm had ended, leaving a
disaster behind it. The lightning had set a tree alight, but the fire had been
doused almost immediately by the river Weser, into which the tree had fallen.
Peter made his way over to see the wreckage. As he got closer he saw that
the tree had formed a bridge over the river. Crouching down on the bank, Peter
saw something move, something furry and grey. It scampered towards him. It was a
rat!!
Tail-less had been scavenging a nearby dustbin when the rain had started to fall and he immediately scrambled for cover into a chipped plant pot near a tall tree. The sharp cracks, booms and thundering rain made Tail-less’s nose twitch as he lay, cowering in the pot.
Suddenly a sharp crack hit the tall tree and Tail-less smelt the smell of
the biting hot red flame eating up the tree. Then with a splintering groan,
which made Tail-less’s whiskers stand on end, the tall tree toppled into the
dark, cold wet.
Tail-less waited till the rain stopped and then cautiously ventured out
of the plant pot. The tree was spread across the dark, cold wet, forming a
bridge. Tail-less scrambled up on to the tree. He could see the land where he
had lived before.
Maybe he could make it there, maybe there would be food and maybe there
would be rats there! Tail-less squeaked with glee before scampering over twigs
to the trunk of the tree. The dark, cold wet lapped hungrily at the tree, trying
to make Tail-less slip.
When he reached the roots of the tree, Tail-less climbed up a root and
surveyed the scene. Suddenly he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye.
Tail-less turned and stared into the face of a furless! Tail-less froze, not
sure what to do. If he ran back he might fall into the dark, cold wet. If he ran
forward the furless might catch him.
“Wow, a rat!” exclaimed the furless. And the odd thing was that
Tail-less understood him. Furless was speaking rat! Tail-less bared his sharp,
pointed teeth. “Don’t move or I’ll bite!”
The furless stood up and gaped.
“You
spoke. Y…you talked English!”
“No,” snarled Tail-less, “you spoke rat.
“Did
I?” The furless scratched his chin. “You’re a rat. What are you doing
here?”
“What
do you mean?” Tail-less asked, confused.
“
The Piper drowned all the rats in the river Weser.”
“The
what?” snapped Tail-less.
“That!”
said the furless and pointed at the dark, cold wet.
Peter tried to grasp what had happened in the last few minutes. He had come down to see the wreckage of the tree and found a rat, which was now talking to him.
“Well,
then,” said the rat.
“What?”
blinked Peter.
“What
happened next?” sighed the rat.
“Oh,”
exclaimed Peter. “After the Piper had drowned all the rats…”
“Except
one!” added the rat.
“He
got all the children to follow and they disappeared into the mountain.”
“Who
is this Piper then?” asked the rat.
“He
wears a red and yellow suit…” began Peter.
“You
mean the strange furless?” the rat squeaked.
“Furless?”
said Peter. “What’s a furless?”
“Well,
you!” said the rat after thinking for a while.
“You
call us furlesses? We’re humans,” snapped Peter, rather annoyed.
“Hu
- mans!” scoffed the rat. “What a silly name!”
“It’s
not my name. My name is Peter.” exclaimed Peter angrily.
“Peter,
Peter!” guffawed the rat, rolling on his back.
“What’s
your name, then?” snapped Peter.
“Tail-less!”
boasted the rat proudly waving his grimy, pink stump of a tail at Peter. “A
good, proper, strong name.”
“I bet you found loads of rats in the city,” said Peter miserably.
“Nope. I bet you didn’t find any child furlesses here either.”
“It’s all right for you,” shouted Peter with a burst of anger.
“Sorry!” Tail-less hung his head ashamed. “I know how it feels.
Why… I know why don’t we go and find them then?”
“We can’t,” sighed Peter. “I’ve looked millions of times.”
“Well, the million and one time won’t hurt, but you’ll have to pick
me up. Carefully, mind you!”
Luckily Tail-less remembered the scent of the Pied Piper and led Peter up
the mountain to the electric fence, which Tail-less managed to turn off using a
switch on the other side. Peter sat down. His leg was hurting. But when he sat
down, he vanished!
Tail-less stared at the gaping hole in the ground into which Peter had fallen. Tail-less knew he had to follow. Taking a deep breath, he jumped and landed in a soft, green meadow, filled with poppies. He was relieved to see Peter lying next to him, gazing in awe at their surroundings.
Children skipped around tossing the red flowers into the air. Fruit trees grew everywhere, filled with ripe peaches and pears, and birds chirruped in the sky. Peter picked Tail-less up and began to walk towards a figure pushing a girl on a swing. The figure was wearing a suit and hat, half of red, half of yellow. Tail-less knew it was the Piper as Peter called him.
As they approached, the pretty girl jumped off the swing and ran towards them. She hung a garland of daisies over Peter’s head and skipped off. The Piper sighed and said, “Get on the swing and I’ll push you.”
“No!” said Peter and Tail-less together, or rather Tail-less squeaked.
“We want the children!”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” said the Piper sadly. “You see, this world has a different time. While a few years have passed on earth, decades have passed here. If the children went back home they would turn to dust, they are so old!”
“But there has to be a way!” exclaimed the rat, “you’re the Piper.”
“I’m sorry,” said the Piper. “I’m getting old too. So old it’s beginning to show here.” He held out a hand and the smooth skin changed every few seconds, showing deep wrinkles.
“I’ll die here soon. But wait…. that’s it! You and your rat can be the new Pied Pipers.” The Piper danced with delight. “I gave you the gift of other talk and now…” He held his hands over Peter and Tail-less. A pipe appeared in Peter’s hand and a suit of red and yellow. “And for the rat…” Tail-less began to whistle!
“You can now watch over the children here for ever!”
“But we can’t,” exclaimed Peter. He began to run to the hole in the sky of this world. Peter jumped and he was out. He wasn’t free there, but here he was.
A whistling began – not the whistling of a human, but the whistling of a rat….