Once upon a time, on the banks of river Weser, the prosperous town of Hamelin flourished. It had silos of corn and wheat, and mills that ground them, bakeries that baked bread and cakes, shops that sold them, and people who had the money to buy and eat.
Into this idyllic town came an unwelcome visitor: Trouble in the form of rats which overran the silos, the bakeries, and the shops; even the homes of the citizens were not spared. They scurried under the feet, sneaked in without warning, shrieked and squeaked, fought the dogs and killed the cats, and nibbled at babies sleeping in the cots.
Angry people took to the streets. The distraught Mayor struck a deal with a strange man of colourful attire and a pipe that hung from the end of his scarf, to rid Hamelin of the rats, for a thousand guilders.
The Pied Piper was as good as his word; he lured the rats away, with a hypnotic tune, into the Weser’s watery grave.
But when the Mayor said a mere fifty guilders was all he deserved for the work, the Pied Piper returned on the twenty-sixth day of June, 1284 AD, playing his pipe again and all the children of Hamelin followed him, dancing to his tunes, into a cave in the nearby hill, never to return.
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