Once upon a time, in the charming village of Hamelin nestled alongside a wide river, the townsfolk faced a rather troublesome predicament. A multitude of mischievous rats scampered about, startling pets, nibbling at food, and making quite a squeak. The Mayor and the council were quite perplexed about what to do, and all the villagers felt rather anxious. One fine day, a tall man in a dazzling red and yellow coat appeared at the Town Hall. He had a small pipe tied to his belt. 'Good day, kind people,' he said. 'I am the Piper. With my music, I can drive away the creatures that trouble you.'
‘If I make your village clean again, will you pay me a thousand guilders?’ The Mayor and the council cheered, ‘Yes, yes, we promise to pay you.’ The Piper stepped into the street and lifted his pipe. He winked an eye, took a deep breath, and played a quick and merry tune. His blue eyes sparkled like tiny lights. Instantly, the rats peeked out from every nook. Big, small, brown, black, and grey, all perked up their ears. They began to dance to the rhythm of the music. The Piper walked through the streets, and the rats followed him step by step.
He walked towards the river Weser. The rats splashed, swam, and hurried to live far away from the village. Hamelin’s bells rang out with joy. The people clapped and laughed. The Piper smiled and said, ‘Thank you. Now, please, give me my thousand guilders.’ The Mayor glanced at his friends and frowned. He whispered, ‘That is a lot of money.’ Then he told the Piper, ‘We were only jesting about the thousand. Here are fifty. Take it and have a drink.’ The Piper shook his head.
He said, ‘A promise is a promise. Please pay what you promised. I am busy and must visit other places.' The Mayor grew rude and waved his hand. He said, ‘Do your worst. We will not pay more.’ The Piper stepped into the street once more. He lifted his pipe and played a new song. This time the melody was soft, sweet, and full of hope. In a moment, the children of Hamelin heard it. Little feet pattered and wooden shoes clattered. The boys and girls with rosy cheeks and bright eyes ran out, smiling.
They clapped and skipped. They laughed and sang. The Piper walked down the road, and the children followed him, happy and safe, like a long, joyful parade. The Mayor and the council stood still as stones. They could not speak. They watched the crowd follow the music. The Piper did not go to the river. He walked to a green hill called Koppelberg. When they reached the hill, a shining door opened in the rocks. Inside, it looked like a sunny garden. The Piper entered, and the children followed.
When the last child entered, the door closed softly. One child did not enter. He had an injured leg and could not run fast. He said later, ‘The Piper told us about a joyful land near our village. The water sparkled, the fruit trees were full, and the flowers were brighter than ever. The birds sang sweet songs. The dogs were friendly. The bees made honey without stinging. I felt that my leg would soon be better. Then the music stopped, and the door closed.’
‘I was outside, alone. Hamelin had become a quiet and sad place. The parents searched East, West, North, and South. They called for the Piper to return with the children. They promised silver and gold, but he did not return. To remember, they wrote the story on a tall column and in a large church window. They noted the date, July 22, 1376. People say that far away, in a land called Transylvania, there are families who dress in a special way and tell stories about a long walk from a mountain door.’
‘Some believe they came from Hamelin long ago. Dear child, this story teaches us to be fair. If we make a promise, we keep our promise, just as we would want others to keep theirs. And that is the story of the Piper of Hamelin.’
