The Grimm Diaries Prequels Volume 15 - 18 (6 page)

The first thing they saw with the approaching music was a coach, the
shape of a huge pumpkin; a fat one that rolled on the ground as if it was going
to fall apart. What an old and ramshackle vehicle it was for such an evil and
feared man, the children thought.

Still, the melody was lovely, and the piper, presumably sitting inside,
spread it while a proud ostrich pulled the coach instead of a mule.

Yes, it was an ostrich with lovely purple feathers, which complimented the
orange body of the coach. The ostrich was strong and big, and moved its head in
a funny way while pulling the coach, as if pecking on an invisible something in
front of it. Its head moved with its legs.
Track. Tatarack
. And the
Track.
Tatarack.
Its legs were guided by the rhythm of the piper’s melody. The
coach, the ostrich, and the piper’s flute were one big moving orchestra.

Then the coach stopped.

The ostrich buried its head in the ground as if it were resting, like a
ship’s anchor in the bottom of the sea.

The children, although curious, started sweating. They were going to meet
the most feared man in the world. And even though some of them wanted to run
away, the magic flute's melodies chained their feet to the ground. It was as if
the music was the magnet that pulled them from their bellies toward the
mysterious piper.

A little later, the door of the coach squeaked open, but no one came out.
Then the music stopped.

The suspense was building. The children waited to see what the piper
looked like.

Was he cloaked in black like the ghosts they heard of in the stories? Was
he hunched and disfigured with golden teeth and a bad smell? Was he the devil
himself, with a fork and two horns?

Slowly, a figure appeared out of the coach, and it wasn’t like anything
they’d expected.

It was that of a boy wearing a purple cloak that covered his legs and
feet

Was this really the piper?

Even though they had an impression he was a boy, they couldn’t see his
face because he wore a pumpkin on his head, with cutout eyes and a zigzagged
mouth, where his pan flute popped out like a five cigar fingers.

Sometimes, the children couldn't tell if it was a mask or the boy’s real
head. They stood with open mouths, unable to speak or scream.

Was the piper playing games with them, or was this
the way he lulled children, by looking friendly—even funny. They
had expected a monster, not this.

The pumpkin piper, for that was what they’d decided to call him, walked
among the children with hands laced behind his back, like a leader walked among
his troops. He seemed as though he were inspecting them. He didn’t utter a
word, and their eyes were glued to his blue eyes staring back at them from
behind the pumpkin head.

One of the children drooled on the porch, another one peed himself, and
on tooth-gapped girl ate her hair in her distraction.

Then the piper stopped and enthusiastically rubbed his hands together.
They thought he’d send out a curse at them, a lightning strike or a thunderbolt.
Or maybe eat them like that evil witch who lived in that Candy House in the
forest.

But nah, that wasn’t the case.

The pumpkin piper started playing his flute again. This time he danced as
he played. He was merry, and the children forgot about his real identity—or who
he was supposed to be.

They started dancing along with him, embracing each other and holding
hands. The pumpkin piper walked through town as he played, and the children
clapped their nimble hands and followed him.

Amazingly, he didn’t walk out of town.

Instead, he walked into the church and played inside, his melodies
echoing in the halls and colored windows.

Then he stopped playing for a second.

The children were worried again. Was he so evil he couldn’t stand the
holiness of the church? But if so, why did come here in the first place?

They watched the silent, speechless pumpkin piper paralyzed in his place
for a second.

The silence was disturbing, and they needed someone to release it by
making some noise.

Luckily, the pumpkin piper did.

He burped.

Because the children couldn’t believe what they had just heard, the pumpkin
piper burped again.

That’s when they fell to the floor laughing.

Later, the pumpkin piper walked out of the church, entered each house,
and played a little more. The children still followed. It was as if his song
was an enchantment that he wanted to spread everywhere—or maybe it was a
disease; that would explain why he didn't need the rats anymore.

But no rats came, and no disease spread. In fact, the children liked the pumpkin
piper. He was as tall as their parents whom they feared, but he wasn't as
intimidating. The way the pumpkin piper tilted his head and looked at them
while he played was friendly and amusing. They wished they could see his real face—if
he had one.

The more he played, the happier he seemed, and walked faster.

One of the children pulled the pumpkin piper’s cloak as hard as he could,
unable to keep up with his speed. Unexpectedly, he
had
pulled too hard, and the cloak fell onto the floor.

The pumpkin piper stopped.

It was one of those moments when they had to hold their breath again.

The pumpkin piper wore black leather pants underneath; something they had
never seen before. He stopped playing his magic flute and turned back to them,
especially to the boy who’d exposed him.

Had the boy offended him by the immature act of pulling the cloak? He knew
that his parents wouldn’t have liked it if he had pulled their cloaks. His
parents would have punished him; maybe made him spend a night in a dark cellar,
or have him clean the roof for three days. Or worse, sometimes kids were
punished by having to run naked all around town, so they'd feel embarrassed and
humiliated, and never repeat such a mistake again.

What added creepiness to the moment was that the piper didn't talk. He
either played music, or held his words. And this mask of his made him appear enigmatic.
They couldn't tell how he felt or if, like their parents had told them, he got
really mad when someone bothered him.

Slowly, the pumpkin piper started rubbing his flute with his sleeve. He
gave it a puff the way you do with your foggy pair of glasses, and began playing
it again.

As he walked, he clicked his feet together in the air. He wore two
pointed yellow shoes with tiny bells on them. The funny pumpkin piper played
and the children followed again, clicking their feet, clapping their hands, and
singing. The pumpkin piper walked toward one of the empty houses, where the
smell of food waved out of its windows. Like a hypnotized boy, he followed the
smell and entered the kitchen. It smelled like Heaven, with all the lovely
muffins and fresh baked bread.

While still playing, the piper offered each one of the children cookies,
as if they were his. Some children took them, but others shook their heads into
a no; afraid their parents would get mad at them.

The pumpkin piper started making a mess out of the kitchen; taking a bite
from every kind of food he found available to prove to the children that in his
presence, they could do what they liked. The children complied and happily turned
the kitchen into a mess as well.

That was every child’s ultimate dream.

The pumpkin piper seemed dissatisfied with the amount of mess they made.
It seemed like he wanted more of it. He started smashing things with a frying
pan, still playing the flute with only his breath, without needing to play with
his fingers. The children got the message and followed his path again, damaging
everything in the kitchen, throwing food at each other, and laughing
hysterically at the insane freedom they were granted.

Then they saw the pumpkin piper stop in front of a jar of pickles.

He was staring at the jar as if it were made of diamonds. He looked back
at them, his zigzagging mouth widening into a larger smile, the tip of his
pumpkin head wiggling like a TV’s antenna.

The children laughed, watching the pumpkin piper open the jar and pull
out a pickled pepper. He took a bite from it and made cringing sounds, his
shoulders tensing a little. The pickled pepper was so hot that the pumpkin piper
had to drink a cup of water to ease the fieriness. He even tapped his clinking
shoes twice on the floor. The children laughed as they watched the pumpkin piper
eat a couple more pickled peppers. He yummed them so eagerly, as if eating
cookies.

It turned out the pumpkin piper was fond of the pickled peppers. He took
a deep breath to cool the burning fire in his chest, and started using the energy
in playing the flute even louder now. He played even better, sending hot air
through the holes of his pipe, like steam from a locomotive.

And the dance began again.

“Hey!” the children celebrated, following him everywhere. Never before
had an older person been so much fun!
Even
though they thought he was a boy, they considered him much older than themselves.

Unfortunately, the parents came back.

The parents couldn’t believe their eyes, watching the pumpkin piper dance
with their children in the middle of town. They checked their houses and
discovered the mess the children had caused, and they just couldn’t take it.

They were going to punish their children so bad.

But first they had to save them from this unusual looking pumpkin piper. Then
they would punish them properly afterward.

In their defense, the children gravitated toward the pumpkin piper who’d
been much kinder to them. He knew how to play and have a good time.

The pumpkin piper ushered them back to his pumpkin coach. It astonished
the elders how this small coach was actually big enough from the inside to
accommodate all those children who entered. Was it a magic coach? An evil magic
coach?

"Stop it children," the elders pleaded. "He is fooling
you. This is how he charms everyone, and then kidnaps them."

The children didn't listen, and the pumpkin piper didn't talk. His
masked, inanimate face scared the elders greatly. What seemed playful to the
children rang huge warning bells,
dinging
and
donging
in the
elders’ ears.

It took them some time
before they
gathered their courage, and decided to approach the piper's coach. They held
their guns and weapons, ready for him.

The silent pumpkin piper wasn’t bothered. Inside the coach, the parents
heard him whisper something to the children.

They tried to pull the coach’s door open, but it wouldn’t give in. When
they tried harder, it suddenly heated and burned their hands.

Cautiously circling the coach, they begged their children to come out
again.

This time, the
children did.

Each child came out with a pumpkin in its hands. They were heavy pumpkins,
and the children had to hold them with both hands and do their best not to lose
their balance.

"What the heck is that?" the elders exclaimed.

"The pumpkin piper told us to tell you that we only want to
play," a girl said, bending her back from the weight of a pumpkin.

"What does that mean? Stop all that nonsense," another elder frowned.
"Since when do strangers tell us how to raise our children?"

"What do you mean you want to play?" another parent asked,
sounding furious.

"The pumpkin piper says that you have to let us eat what we want to
eat, drink what we want to drink, sleep when we want to sleep, make fun of you
the way we like," a boy said. "You can't scream at us anymore, yell
at us, or hit us. You can't tell us what to do. And you aren't allowed to
punish any of us. We’re only coming back if you learn that we, the children,
are more important than you."

"What kind of silly talk is that? You are children for God’s sake.
You know nothing to talk that way," the boy's father said. "Come back
here, or the consequences will be dire!"

"And you, little brat," the girl’s mother shouted. "How
dare you walk barefoot outside the house? Where are your sandals I bought for
you? You're going to bring all this dirt in the house when you come back."

"I'm not coming back if you keep acting this way," the girl
stuck out her tongue at her mother.

The elders growled and approached the children with reddened faces, and
anger steaming out of their ears. A mother pulled her daughter by her hair
violently, and a father slapped his son on the back of the head. Instead of
reasoning with their children, they started punishing them with their bare
hands, and the children began to cry.

The pumpkin piper climbed out of his coach. He was silent as usual, and as
cool as ever. He sat on top of the coach, crossing his legs. Instead of
reacting to the angry parents, he lit a cigar and puffed smoke in the air. Then
he whistled something to the children, some kind of secret code.

The children got the message and nodded. It was only moments before they
pulled away from their parents. Then the children started throwing the heavy
pumpkins at them. Although the pumpkins were heavy, they suddenly floated in
the air, hanging like a reluctant balloon before their eyes. All the children
had to do was puff it, sometimes kick it like a ball, and the pumpkin knew where
to hit. Like flying cannon balls directed with a
remote control, the pumpkins flew back and hit the parents.

The elders fell one by one to the ground, barely standing up again, and
ran away. The children laughed victoriously. Grins filled their faces as the pumpkin
piper treated himself with a most delicious pumpkin, some pickles on the side,
of course.

He finished eating while the children won the war against their parents,
and clapped his hands clean afterward. He stared back at the children, climbed
down and started high-fiving them before he played more music.