The song was melodious, a perfect synergy of highs and lows intertwined with the Piper’s tapping feet to make music for the townsfolk. The women hung out from top storey windows and looked down at the dazzling young man. A brown hat tipped at its apex pointed to the sky, followed by the silver flute poking from between thin lips. Black locks fringing out the bottom of the cap lay on the shoulders of his green tunic, bouncing with each jig the piper made. Some of the children followed behind the man, a few brave enough to hang on to the brown sash tied around the man’s waist. The children attempted to mimic the man’s actions, kicking out in sync with the brown slacks and black tipped shoes of the piper; a joyous moment on an otherwise dreary sunlit day.
The trees stood at attention along the edge of the pathway leading towards the forest. The music flowed towards the forest and the straggling children had either wandered off or been called home, but a few let themselves be led into the forest, unaware that the tune the piper played had slivered. The man’s movements had become erratic, reflecting the melody that chopped through the silent leaves and quiet grass. Three children floated behind him in languid strides, half-lidded and drooling, and yet their bodies jerked to the melliflious discord. Ahead of them, the piper twitched further into the darkening forest. His long black locks straggled downward past shoulder and hip and back and leg and ankle and twist and twirl and curl! Toes to claws, knees to beasts. Chest a hurl – whomper of chomper. Yet none could elude the deluge of the pipers song when it ensnared; dinner was served.
~ The Pied Piper