Alternate Ending of "The Pied Piper of Hamelin"

If you don't know the story of the Pied Piper, it doesn't really matter because I didn't and it made sense, haha... You can just take it as a short story edited/adapted/altered by my lovely lil sister, Sarah Elyse Pickett. Here's to you, Sis!! (I didn't change a thing--this is all her.)

"I was only joking! Did you really suppose I'd give you fifty thousand

guilders? You poor fool!" the Mayor retorted.

"Yes, I did. I didn't realize you were a lying fiend! You are going to be sorry,"

snapped the Piper.

"What are you going to do to me? All you've got is that flute of yours. Blow it.

I dare you blow that pipe there till you burst!" the Mayor idiotically remarked.

That gave the Piper an idea. "Fine, maybe I will." That ugly fat menace of a

mayor had no idea what was coming.

The enraged Piper unsheathed his flute and played a sickeningly mysterious song.

It made the town folk's skin crawl, made their hair stand on end as cool breeze

fluttered over the river and shook the town of Hamelin. The river had turned blood

red and had started to...almost…boil. Everyone slowly backed away, except the

Piper, who slowly, but surely walked towards the river with a mad look in his eye.

Hundreds, no thousands, of rats poured out from the river. But these weren't your

ordinary rats. They were more like R.O.U.S.'s (Rodents of Unusual Size) from

Princess Bride, but worse. The river wasn't kind to these rats. You could see the

rat's bloody bones through the gory chunks of torn off flesh. This is when the quite

shaken up people of this unfortunate town then realized the rats weren't alive. Or

dead. Many of these insufferable creatures were missing eyes, their organs dragged

on the ground behind them, barely hanging on to the mangled zombie rat's undead

bodies. A trail of gushing, sticky blood was left where ever the rodents trod.

The disgusted crowd, many green or puking, looked backed at the Piper with

outrage steaming out of their pores.

With a raving laugh, the Piper played a march, not a happy march, but a

loathsome march. A march that wanted to attack someone. The rats simultaneously

stepped towards the Mayor with vengeance ringing through their ears. The

deranged Piper played a single high, shrill note and the rats charged. Their claws

ripped open the screaming obese Mayor's flesh like a hot knife in butter. They

nuzzled their little noses into his rotting body, liking up some of his blood, but the

rats were very careful to not kill him, only cause him a lot of pain and scars. They

tore off his nose so he will never be able to smell the sweet smell of the bread

his town is famous for. The vicious rats gnawed off his fingers, toes, and tongue

to make sure he’d never utter another word, never do another day’s work in his

life. They poked out his eyes so he can't see the beauty of the world to come.

They didn't touch his ears though. The Piper wanted him to hear every child cry,

every woman shriek, every man run from his hideous face, his demented, mangled

body. He wanted the Mayor to wallow in the sadness of being the ugliest creature

on earth. His whole life. And the Mayor will have a very long life because of the

immunity spell placed upon him.

The piper left the rats to their work as he triumphantly strolled to the

deserted city bank and swiftly took 100,000 guilders (twice as many as promised)

from the bank. No one tried to stop him. They were too afraid of what more the

Piper can do. He stashed the loot in his bag as he went back to examine the scene.

Everyone left the Mayor to fend for himself. The Pied Piper guffawed. He

took out his pipe and played for the mountain wall to open and the satisfied rats to

scamper in. The townsfolk were slowly coming back. The triumphant Piper turned

to walk into the mountain, but he stopped. The people of Hamelin gasped, scared

out of their pants of what he was thinking now. But he didn't punish them anymore.

He turned around, smirked at the people, then started to laugh the evilest, most

crazed laugh anyone can't imagine. As the mountain walls closed, his howling

echoed off the mountain walls, never fully leaving the town's memory. For years,

the children who saw what happened would wake up screaming in the middle of the

night. Even as adults the occasional nightmare haunted their memory.

Hamelin will never forget the day they didn't pay the Piper.

Especially the Mayor.