DREAMS of a CLOUD
Peruse the many random ramblings of a writer-in-training as I build stories and develop my craft.
21 December 2022
“Ah, rout-tout, diddly di,
Rout-tout, do.
In for a penny, in for a pound,
Come, ye rats, and gather ‘round.
There’s many a place to rest your head,
But none here in this town.”
Songs are difficult to write. I’m also not really a fan of how on-the-nose this one is. That’s one thing I appreciated of Shannon Hale’s Book of a Thousand Days; the magic wasn’t from the words, but more how they made someone feel, if I understand it right. Still, this works well enough for a first draft.
It was some time later when, from the alley where she’d tucked herself away, Naomi heard a song. It was distant, at first, but seemed to be getting closer; a jaunty tune that invited the listener to jump up and join the dance. Not that Naomi felt like dancing just then.
Soon, it had gotten close enough she could recognize Pietr’s voice, and then the words he was singing:
“Ah, rout-tout, diddly di,
Rout-tout, do.
In for a penny, in for a pound,
Come, ye rats, and gather ‘round.
There’s many a place to rest your head,
But none here in this town.
A plate full of bread, a bowl full of cheese
Come eat with us, whate’er ye please…”
Naomi struggled to pin down why, but something about the song unnerved her.
Compiled version (potentially including unposted content)
9 December 2022
Charles, the son of the town constable, chipped in. “I-I don’t think you have to worry about the rats m-much longer. Pa said they g-got someone to come and get rid of them.”
“Ha! Better keep a tight hold on your pet,” Beth said. Then she looked thoughtful. “Do you think he’ll take Nella away, too?”
A bunch of the other kids laughed, and tears pooled in Nella’s eyes. She stood still for a moment or two, then turned and ran, heedless of the calls one or two of the other kids made to her.
Kids can be mean. And they’re more willing to say what they really think than most adults. I hope I captured some of that, as well as how easy it is to assume everyone in a group is the same, whether that’s true or not.
While I wrote this bit, I did a bunch more research on the pied piper. Pied, it turns out, means “multi-colored”, based on the same pie as magpie. So I didn’t have to shift my mental image of the piper at all… Though I did make some fun decisions about who the piper might be.
Reality wasn’t always so kind.
She found the other children quickly enough, and hoisted Barton up to get a better grip on him as she got closer. It looked like they were playing some kind of tag. “Can I play?”
As soon as the other kids saw her, they froze, and many of them scowled. Grace, a blonde girl and a very fast runner, even stuck her tongue out. “Why would we let you play?”
Johan, a large boy a couple years older than Nella, cut in at that point. “You don’t have to be mean about it.” That said, he still raised an eyebrow at Nella. “But are you sure? Father Monroe might get mad.”
Father Monroe was Nella’s caretaker at the orphanage. Nella bit her lip. “Even if I don’t, he’ll get mad about something anyway. I want to be friends.”
Another of the girls, Beth, snorted. “Who’d want to be friends with you? You spend all day hanging out with rats.” She looked Nella up and down and added, “I bet you’re the reason we’ve had to deal with so many of them lately.”
Nella shook her head and squeezed Barton tighter. This wasn’t going very well. All the words she’d thought up and practiced had vanished right out of her head.
Chris, the son of the town constable, chipped in. “I-I don’t think you have to worry about the rats m-much longer. Pa said they g-got someone to come and get rid of them.”
“Ha! Better keep a tight hold on your pet,” Beth said. Then she looked thoughtful. “Do you think he’ll take Nella away, too?”
A bunch of the other kids laughed, and tears pooled in Nella’s eyes. She stood still for a moment or two, then turned and ran, heedless of the calls one or two of the other kids made to her.
Nella sat at the edge of the fountain, sobbing. Some time later, a man’s voice called out to her. “Why are you crying, little one?”
She spun to see who spoke to her, and found a strange man staring at her. He wore a green felt shirt with bright red pants, with all sorts of bits and baubles dangling from his belt. His boots were well-worn but cared for, and a checkered cloak in yellow and black trailed behind him. In one hand he held a beautiful set of golden pipes.
Nella wiped her eyes. “It’s the other kids. They’re being mean, and say the rat-catcher is going to take me and Barton away. All I wanted was a friend…”
“Why, that is quite a sad tale.” The man mused for a moment. “I know what I shall do, then. Shall I play a song for you?”
“But…I don’t have anything to pay you with.”
“Fret not, dear child. This time, the only payment I require is to turn that frown into a brilliant smile. Shall I, then?”
Compiled version (potentially including unposted content)
2 December 2022
Nella squeezed Barton in her arms and boldly stepped out onto the street. It was a new day, and she knew that it was this day. Today was the day she’d make a real friend. No offense to Barton.
First, though she had to work. If you didn’t work, you didn’t eat, and Nella needed to eat. She started at Baker Malcolm’s. Before she even made it in the door, though, Malcolm stopped her. “Eh-eh, little Nell. No rats.”
Something about the story of the pied piper of Hamelin has always fascinated me. I’m not sure what it is. There was a D&D solo session I had around 6 years ago that played into it, but even before that, it’s just teased at the corners of my brain. I really noticed it after I wrote the scene with Duke Hareln during Nanowrimo; my first thought for his name was Hameln, and I was pondering on why that is.
Then I got to thinking about the story, and how fae-like the pied piper is. From there I thought about deals and trades and fairness in the way it applies to the fae, and I found one possible individual that the pied piper might have had no hold over. And that’s where we get our story.
Nella squeezed Barton in her arms and boldly stepped out onto the street. It was a new day, and she knew that it was this day. Today was the day she’d make a real friend. No offense to Barton.
First, though she had to work. If you didn’t work, you didn’t eat, and Nella needed to eat. She started at Baker Malcolm’s. Before she even made it in the door, though, Malcolm stopped her. “Eh-eh, little Nell. No rats.”
Nella pinched her eyebrows together and squeezed Barton tighter, enough that he squeaked and squirmed in protest. “Barton’s not like other rats. He’s my friend.”
“Still, no. He’ll nibble the bread, and then what have I to sell, eh?” He plucked a roll out of a basket and tossed it to her. “You still have not had a breakfast yet, no? Here.”
“Thanks.” Nella caught it and took a big bite. She peered past Malcolm into his kitchen, where a couple of rats snuck onto the counter. “I though rats weren’t allowed in the bakery?”
Malcolm looked back, then cursed loudly and began waving a knife around. Nella decided he’d be busy for a while, so she went to see if anyone else had jobs for her to do.
Next she visited Arnauld and Janine, the candlemakers. Then Robert the butcher and Renee the tailor. None of them had work for her, either. While she walked around town she spotted twelve different rats scurrying about. That was a lot more than normal. Maybe Barton told all his friends and family what a nice town it was here?
While she walked over to Margaret the weaver woman’s shop, she over heard Old Ethel chatting with her friend, Agatha. “There she goes again, that Nella, with her blighted rat. Stinks up the place something awful. Hasn’t she learned there are such things as baths?”
“Now, now. It’s not her fault, is it? And it could be worse. At least she’s the good, honest sort, not some sneak thief or pickpocket.”
Nella frowned. She lifted an arm and sniffed; she didn’t smell anything. And she took a bath just four days ago. Did she really stink?
In the end, though, she shrugged and forgot about it. Margaret, it turned out, did need some help, so Nella helped her weave baskets in the back room. Margaret was nice enough to treat her to lunch, and Nella thanked her before she ran out to go play with the other kids.
Or, well, that was what Nella had hoped for.
Compiled version (potentially including unposted content)