Pied Piper of Hamelin(alternative version)


To understand the following, you need to click the link below. I highly recommend this blog anyway!


The real nature of the true Pied Piper of Hamelin was revealed by the final trick of  the piper when the mayor refused to pay him what he was owed. Stealing children was far from his only crime, however, and what he intended to do with them later is not for the faint hearted. To understand this criminal mastermind you must go further back, to the plague of rats.

You see, the rats were not ordinary rats at all; they were trained rats, and Balthazar, the king of the rats, was as mean and nasty as the Piper himself.  But the Piper underestimated the intelligence of Balthazar….

“You didn’t get the lame kid? I want the lame kid!” snarled the Piper. “He’s the major’s wife’s nephew and will bring the biggest ransom.”

“Boss, the boy couldn’t keep up with the others,” Balthazar squeaked. “We’ll get a good sum from the slavers. A kid with a bum leg ain’t gonna sell.”

 Just then, another rat came in.

 “Sorry boss, I gots bad news,” he said. “The kids have got away. They stomped the guards as soon as the hypnosis wore off and they’ve got out the mountain and down into the next valley.” 

Balthazar stopped his ears to the rage of his master and slipped away unseen, following the tiny rat sized tunnels to where he emerged in the dark valley where a hoard of children waited.

“OK kids,” he said. “Beat it; make new lives for yourselves over here. Say you’re orphans and your orphanage burned down.”

Still in a posthypnotic haze, the children disappeared down the hill and dispersed all over the countryside. Balthazar turned to the boy with the crutches.

“OK, then, Hopalong,” he said. “Tell me about this rich uncle of yours and how we can sting him for more money than the Piper can dream of…”

(with apologies to Terry Pratchett.)


Viv's drawings and paintings 029

I did the above mandala a few years back and looking at it now it seems a very hopeful image of what was presumably inside me at the time. I’ve been intending to post it for ages but spurred on by Robert’s posts at http://retiredeagle.wordpress.com I thought I’d finally do it.

Autumn Leaf




Autumn leaf
I am the first leaf
That Autumn sends
Tumbling into the water
To twist and turn
As the current catches
And bears me downstream.
I am curled in on myself,
Dried by the long summer’s sun
To golden brown fragility,
A coracle to hold my soul
As I am swept away unheeded.
How long I may travel
I shall not know
Until I begin to sink:
The Source and the Sea,
They are still certain,
But the journey,
As you know, is not.


I know it isn’t autumn; it’s barely spring in the UK, but I thought this poem illustrates a bit what I have been saying in earlier posts.