Twisted Fairy Tales, or Fairly Twisted Tales

[maggenpye]

Something new to get the creative juices flowing.

Rewrite a fairy tale, fable, myth etc.

Modernise it, tell it from a different POV, put a twist in the ending, your choice.

5000 word limit. SFW.

I'm working on the Pied Piper, should have it up in a day or so.

Go for it.

[maggenpye]

Oh well, a few days late.

Any one else going to have a go?

[maggenpye]

Origin : The Pied Piper of Hamelin
Words : 2300


Who Pays The Piper

“Mister Piper!” Diggs called casually from the door. “Some suit's here, says he got business with you.”

Piper left the table with a nod to the teens ranged around him. “Back soon, guys.” He twitched a look back as he made his way to the door. Three of the boys had lost interest already but Jess had stayed as she was, head down over the paper, taking it all in as though her life depended on interpreting those symbols. Mind you, Piper added to himself, it probably did.

Diggs was waiting by the door, all attitude and aggression.

“Thank you, Diggs.” Piper said with a smile, which barely faltered as he saw his visitor. “Hello Councilor Rathburger.” he said softly, trying to model politeness so Diggs would calm the hell down.

The councilor and Diggs mirrored each other's contempt instead.

“Come in.” Piper stepped a little closer to Diggs, forcing the boy to step aside. “Have a look at what we're doing here.”

“Thanks, Piper.” The councilor didn't look keen at the prospect, but he stepped forward.
Diggs blocked his path. “It's mister Piper, cause of the respect.”

Piper smiled. “Rathburger and I don't stand on ceremony, Diggs. Different kind of respect.” He didn't have to move a second time for Diggs to step back again.

“I don't know how you manage it.” Rathburger muttered. He stepped carefully over the torn carpet and shot looks around the hall, tattered posters, cracked windows, peeling paint – nothing escaped his attention. “Christ, are those bullet holes?”

Concentrate on the achievements, not the setbacks, Piper thought, Jess would be the perfect illustration.

She'd left off examining the page and taken up her instrument. Flexing her tattooed arms, she placed her fingers and hesitantly played the tune she'd so painfully deciphered.

Rathburger watched for several bars, then spoke very quietly, so no-one but Piper would hear him. “She's part of the gang that robbed my store. I know those symbols.”

“She's learning a different life.” The music touched him, as hesitant and wretched as it was, there was heart behind it. “Give her options and she'll be on the river heading to the city to make her fortune.”

“They cut up my manager.” Rathburger said coldly. “Vermin like that don't deserve second chances.” He didn't look away from the girl with the penny whistle. “You can't even give them proper instruments in case they smash them up or sell them for drugs.”

"They're easy to learn, that's all." Piper said without showing his irritation. "If the kids show any sign of proficiency, I move them onto other instruments." He indicated the far corner where a group of teens sat listening to a boy playing guitar. "Yes, it's a cheap guitar, yes, that's a second hand set of drums in the office over there. I wouldn't waste the council's money on tempting the kids with things they could never afford by themselves."

He watched Rathburger carefully. The councilor lined up several objections and shot them down one by one before they reached his mouth. Jess played through the piece of music again, more confident this time. Her smile was radiant as she finished without an error. One of the boys turned to ask her to play it over again.

Both men knew that these kids could easily have been running wild, stealing, fighting, spreading filth. But they were here, off the streets of Rathburger's fair town – as he'd wanted.

"Time's are getting harder." Rathburger said at last. "The council will have to review every quarter from now on."

They walked out of the hall together, passing a distracted Diggs who was shoulders deep in an old sound mixing board. Rathburger raised an eyebrow and Piper smiled.

Seeing his boss approach, Rathburger's driver had the door of the estate car open and waiting for him. The engine was almost silent as they drove away.

** ** **

The guitar was battered and old, but it's sweet tones swept thought the chambers and coaxed smiles from the council. The girl's voice was as rough as her upbringing had been and added a fitting counterpoint. They were opposites - ancient instrument with a young player, sweetness and pain.

The tune was simple, the words cliched but sincere. She sang from her heart.

"That was lovely, young lady." The councilor fingered her pearls, unconsciously mimicking the line of Jess's throat tattoo. "And you've been playing for...?"

"Eight months." Jess replied, it took a moment before she remembered to add; "Ma'am."

Piper stepped forward, with a look to Diggs, who shut down the sound system . The speakers emitted a strangled whine before fading to silence. They exchanged a chagrined shrug, it was a minor miracle that Diggs had got the thing to work at all. Half the parts were scavenged from incompatible equipment.

"Jess isn't quite telling you the whole story." Piper said, glancing back at the girl to check once more that she was willing to have her story told, even though she wasn't ready to tell it herself. "A year ago, Jess was involved in gangs and drugs." He ignored the quiet protest behind him – he knew she'd only correct him to say 'one gang', but the councilors would not make the distinction – let them believe she was protesting the drug use.

"I've heard the gangs called vermin." Piper went on, "I've heard them called scum and worse. I've heard people say they do not deserve second chances." He glanced at Rathburger and received a nod of recognition. "But it was Jess who came to my program, and Jess who spent four months learning to read before she started learning to read music." He paused to let that sink in. "She believed in her own second chance and now she has many more chances open to her. She could go downriver and make her life anywhere in the whole wide world.

Diggs stood up and joined Piper before the assembled councilors. "I got more chances, too." he said. "I grew up in your sewers, I ate from your rubbish cans." He made eye contact with each councilor in turn, then he waved a hand towards the sound system. "I don't know how many electricians learn from the trash heap, but Mister Piper asked me to learn and I did."

"That's a great point, Diggs." Piper said, knowing Diggs would soon run to accusations and belligerence. "My program isn't just teaching music, we have electricians, stage hands, builders, costume makers, production managers. Each and every one of whom could have stayed in their gangs, stayed on the streets. They are learning skills, learning they have a future."

** ** **

"It's the recession." Piper said, again.

They'd packed up their equipment in silence, left the chambers with the praise and apologies wafting unheard after them. Each of the three was laden down heavier than they'd arrived.

"They want us back in the sewers." Diggs muttered. He carried his load past the gaggle of joking, smoking drivers and their pack of sleek black cars. "They want their vermin back in the trap."

"I'm not going back there." Jess announced. "And I'm not jumping into the river, either" she added with a look at Piper. "They can't drive me away."

Piper smiled sadly. "But we have no venue, no funding."

Diggs muttered again. They turned a corner and, because it wasn't a large town, they were immediately away from the clean facades, with fewer street lights and rougher paths.

Piper hoisted his boxes higher in his arms. "It's the recession."

** ** **

Long fingers and a narrow palm on skinny wrists. Raised knuckles and long nails made them look more like paws than human hands. The effect should have been mitigated by the heavy gold rings. A daylight meeting would have helped, too. Above ground, without the battle scars.

Piper shook the proffered hand, not sure if he should expect threats or posturing.

"Mister Piper, my sister Jess has spoken to me of your plight." He was not her brother, not by blood, or at least, not by birth-blood. He had sold her body again and again. Beaten her when she did not comply, withheld food and sleeping space when she'd started the music program. Taken her back after some payment she would not speak of. "We look after our own, mister Piper."

It was really unfortunate, the way his hair was pulled back from his sharp featured face, the way his teeth were large and angled back. Those scrabbling, paw-like hands.

"I'm not sure what you're offering me." Piper said, careful to keep his tone neutral. Do not corner wild animals. Always leave an escape route. "I'm not sure what you expect me to do."

"Why Mister Piper," The teeth gleamed in the subdued light. "you will carry on as usual. I am merely taking over the funding from those who have let you down so badly."

"I can't allow..." What could he say? Drugs? Prostitution? Death and dishonour? They would be denied, of course. "I want to give these kids the chance of a better life."

"So do I, Mister Piper." The teeth gleamed once more. "Opportunities are good for everyone, we should grasp them immediately as they are presented to us."

"Everyone would be welcome? Everyone would be ..." Safe?

No smile this time. "My sister Jess will have her audience. You will have your followers, Mister Piper. I will not discriminate."

It was not as comforting as it was meant to sound.

** ** **

The sound pumped from the speakers, sure and solid. No shoddy scrounged parts in this system. Diggs played the board as though it and he were on the stage, a fourth member of the band. A kid with a rival gang's markings was on lights, he and Diggs pumped fists and laughed together as the song crashed it's final notes and the dancing crowds cheered and headed for the bar.

“Mister Piper!” The young man stood at his elbow. “Some suit's at the door, says he got business with you.”

Piper nodded and waved Rathburger over to him.

They went through the niceties and found their drinks served faster than the paying patrons at the bar. Piper's table was still vacant when they reached it. Piper's clothes were fine, the leather two-tone coat made him look every inch the entrepreneur owner of the best bar in the region.

"I don't know what the problem is." Piper said, forestalling Rathburger's familiar complaints. "We're operating outside the town limits, you can't complain that my vermin are polluting your streets."

"You do know." Rathburger replied calmly. "You know what goes on here, you know who's behind it." He raised his chin, indicating a table on the far side of the room. "Koppelhouse is his." There was a gleam of teeth and a glass was raised in their direction.

Piper raised his own glass in return. "It's my name on the lease." he replied. "It's the group that I manage headlining on my stage."

"Is it your kids taking the drugs? Or do they just sell them?" The councilor's voice was tired. Piper knew that his own daughter had been an early casualty. Back when Piper had still been paying attention to the collateral damage.

Piper smiled. Whatever went on outside the club, or even hidden inside the club, had long ago ceased to matter. "I've never seen a kid buy drugs here." He held up a hand. "And before you start, I've never heard of my kids selling drugs. If there's anything illegal going on, I suggest you call the police."

Ratherburger's shoulders slumped. He knew the county police were paid more to ignore the club than they were to notice it. The town police had no jurisdiction, even though they had more than enough information from broken teenagers to close the place down. "You used to be different."

"You used to pay me. Things change."

Soon. Piper could feel the anticipation building in the room. The reason the place was packed on a weeknight. The reason so many felt the need to enhance their perceptions. The reason Rathburger would never persuade Piper to go back to a shoddy hall and teach for less than minimum wage.

The stage went dark. The crowd shuffled into silence.

She was there. A single point of light, expertly placed and controlled to illuminate her face, soft focus so she wasn't a disembodied face, but a darkly lit haloed angel.

The first song held the audience enthralled. Her heart seemed open to them all. The life she sang of was both dangerous and alluring. They would follow her blindly. Those few who were too crippled to follow her, would be carried along by her back-up musicians. She would have them all.

Rathburger was not caught by the music. He was too old, too adult to see the attraction of danger. He'd long ago given up his second chances for economic practicality and hidden regrets. He stood and left without saying goodbye.

Her voice, full of aching strength, called softly, cajoling Piper to the stage. He stood and obeyed her, helpless against his need of her. He stepped on to the stage, barely hearing the applause that greeted him. A mic was waiting for him. He saw Diggs give him the thumbs up, the mic was live. Reaching into his pocket, he received another round of applause as he produced a penny whistle.

Jess smiled, he had saved her, taught her his craft, given her power in a harsh world.

And who pays the piper, calls the tune.

[Harlequin]

Any one else going to have a go?

I'd love to. I somehow missed this thread until you mentioned it in the 1000-words thread. I've been writing a longer story that started out as an answer to "what would it really be like, living in a sort of evil fairytale Brothers-Grimm-nightmare kind of world?" and ended up quite differently, but I'm loving the feel of being able to write in that kind of setting. I have no idea what tale to pick, though. Suggestions are welcome.

Now I've read yours, which was quite different from what I expected. You did say "modernise it" as one option, but I must have skimmed over that part. Up until the point where Rathburger steps in the car I was convinced we were in a past century. I assumed the bullet holes were from flintlock guns.

You flip the tale completely, making the Piper a benefactor of the kids instead of their abductor/murderer. I'm not getting exactly what the arrangement is between Piper and Jess's former pimp, but I'm getting that the guy who pays the piper switched from Rathburger to him, which means that the tune that is called goes from teaching the kids music to running the club, which Rathburger apparently disapproves of. But how bad is it really? There is clearly shit going on - they're bribing the police - but has Piper given up his ideals or simply made small concessions to an unfortunate reality?

I liked how you put little references to the original story in there. Calling the gangs vermin, references to sewers and traps, Jess's "I'm not jumping into the river". And, of course, the animal appearance of Jess's pimp was a nice touch, if maybe a bit anvilicious.

[Baldwin]

Maggenpye -- good use of the social theme of the original story. Could definitely use more subtlety. Way, way more subtlety. Just smear the subtlety on with a trowel. (E.g., the description of the pimp/pusher dude, whom I want to call Rat Daddy.) You want drama, not melodrama (I presume).

Also, I'd recommed being firmer about your narrative voice. Is it meant to be third-person singular, or third-person plural? A couple of times you refer to Rathburger in a way that implies a description of his thoughts, but you never quite include him as a POV character. It's a clearer style if you keep it to one POV.

[Baldwin]

(Continued, since there seems to be a problem posting more than a few lines at once.)

Otherwise, just minor stuff like it's/its.

The confusion here is caused by the fact that, unlike most pronouns, it is the same in the nominative form and the objective form. With the other pronouns, there's no confusion between the possessive form, and the contraction with the verb is:

Nominative:
He
Objective:
Him
Possessive:
His
Contraction with is:
He's

Nominative:
She
Objective:
Her
Possessive:
Hers
Contraction with is:
She's


Nominative:
It
Objective:
It
Possessive:
Its
Contraction with is:
It's

[maggenpye]

Up until the point where Rathburger steps in the car I was convinced we were in a past century. I assumed the bullet holes were from flintlock guns.

Noted, I'll add a more modern reference earlier. I was hoping the use of language carried that ("Some suit" being a modern usage)

You flip the tale completely, making the Piper a benefactor of the kids instead of their abductor/murderer.

In the original story he was the town benefactor, clearing the place of rats, until they refused to pay their agreed fee.

There is clearly shit going on - they're bribing the police - but has Piper given up his ideals or simply made small concessions to an unfortunate reality?

Instead of an insular gang dispute, the "good" kids are dying, including Rathburger's kid. The power base has swapped around instead of evening out as Piper was originally working towards. Needs more bad shit, I'll probably expand that section and make it take place over a longer period.

I liked how you put little references to the original story in there. Calling the gangs vermin, references to sewers and traps, Jess's "I'm not jumping into the river". And, of course, the animal appearance of Jess's pimp was a nice touch, if maybe a bit anvilicious.

Yeh, I'm either going to take that description out or beat it into a different shape.

[maggenpye]

Maggenpye -- good use of the social theme of the original story. Could definitely use more subtlety. Way, way more subtlety. Just smear the subtlety on with a trowel. (E.g., the description of the pimp/pusher dude, whom I want to call Rat Daddy.) You want drama, not melodrama (I presume).

Rat Daddy was close enough, I was going for King Rat. Harlequin's convinced me that it needs to change. Specifics about the troweling would be handy - the original was a pretty blunt instrument ("pay your debts or pay the price"). Many of the bits I though were too much are the things Harlequin's specifically said he liked.

Also, I'd recommend being firmer about your narrative voice. Is it meant to be third-person singular, or third-person plural? A couple of times you refer to Rathburger in a way that implies a description of his thoughts, but you never quite include him as a POV character. It's a clearer style if you keep it to one POV.

I can see one section of Rathburger where that might apply, a couple of lines just before the end where I have to differentiate between the children following the piper and the parents left behind to grieve. Could go either way - he's a bloke who notices things and remembers them, tattoos, bullet holes, drug deals or statements he's made. He might work better as an observer. I might even swap between him and Piper with Jess remaining as the final commentator at the end. That'll take a few rewrites to sort out.

It's Its etc - lesson far more than needed for two extra apostrophes. I'm going to be watching your stories very, very carefully from now on and over-explaining every single mistake. Mwahahahaaa!

[Baldwin]

It's Its etc - lesson far more than needed for two extra apostrophes. I'm going to be watching your stories very, very carefully from now on and over-explaining every single mistake. Mwahahahaaa!

It's a problem that's raised its ugly head on this and other message boards time and again. Since this nice thread you've started is open to everybody, and we're hoping for more stories to be posted, I thought a little of my pedantic droning early on might forestall difficulties down the road. I didn't mean it as a lecture at you specifically, maggenpye. (For God's sake, think of the children.)

I'm liking your story more as I think about it. I've seen a lot of reworked versions of fairy tales (either simple parodies, or inversions, or, like yours, reworking in a more contemporary setting). Usually they're not much good. Yours has a lot of promise, and an original choice. I've seen umpteen takeoffs on bears and dwarves and big bad wolves, but not the Pied Piper. I have to admit I never thought much about the underlying social themes before; you put them in a new light, making me appreciate both the original story and your take on it.

And now a little research shows that that story has deep 13th century German roots; nobody really knows what happened in Hamelin. Mystery.

[Harlequin]

I thought a little of my pedantic droning early on might forestall difficulties down the road.

I can only speak for myself, but I welcome any and all comments, pedantic and otherwise.

[Harlequin]

Oh, and I want to give this a go and give myself a challenge, so someone: pick a fairy-tale.

[maggenpye]

Ta, I'm not feeling too pained about it. I know I need to check those little buggers more carefully.

Are you thinking of writing something? HINT HINT.

I've read a few modern takes on fairly stories, that's why I thought it could be a fun thread. There's some dark themes and strange lessons to be learned from the older versions.

I've started thinking of a take on Sleeping Beauty. I'll have to look at a few of the older versions of that, get away from the Disney take on it and see what its original message was.

If you want to have at that one Harlequin, go for it. But what about a local fairy tale? What are the stories that shaped your childhood in ways Disney never took us?

[Baldwin]

If you want to have at that one Harlequin, go for it. But what about a local fairy tale? What are the stories that shaped your childhood in ways Disney never took us?

Yeah, Harlequin; what about "St. Peter and the Two Women" or "The Swan Maiden"?

[Harlequin]

If you want to have at that one Harlequin, go for it. But what about a local fairy tale? What are the stories that shaped your childhood in ways Disney never took us?

Yeah, Harlequin; what about "St. Peter and the Two Women"

I had never heard that one. Nice little story.

[Baldwin]

If you want to have at that one Harlequin, go for it. But what about a local fairy tale? What are the stories that shaped your childhood in ways Disney never took us?

Yeah, Harlequin; what about "St. Peter and the Two Women"

I had never heard that one. Nice little story.

Another story (supposedly Swedish) sort of turns that one aroung: "Old Nick and the Woman", in which two sisters, one wise and one foolish, get the best of the Devil. (In most of these stories, being innocently foolish is a lot more forgiveable than being greedy.)