Piper was his name.

From a thick grey fog he came.

Early evening on a misty still night.

He appeared in thin air.

Proceeded to play his flute without a care.

Chiseled pale thin face, dressed all in black, with long hair.

The haunting whistle of his flute seemed to cling to the haze in the air.

As he Sauntered down the main street of town.

Rats and mice followed as if in a daze.

Not only rodents tagged along to his sorrowful song.

Children of every shape and size wandered after him in a long formation.

Nearly all the children gone.

No explanation as to where he may be leading them.

There destination, to the In Between.

Neither among the living or dead.

Gathered, to snatch the souls from their heads.

As if in a trance they had no dread.

As piper played his lips turned up in a smirk of humor.

Darkness lurked from his black eyes.

Those that follow never return.

In the mist that lingers, their cries echo.

Souls trapped in the In Between.

Deemed lost.

Their curiosity came with a cost.

The rats and mice feast on the bodies of the demised.

Those that hear the piper play, shall most certainly die.

Their souls stay in the In between.

Thereafter trapped in darkness it would seem.
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