The halfway point..

Ah.... it was a tough week 2. But I managed to write every day and for that I am proud. It wasn't that I was horrendously busy - it was just tough going. But fortunately, I am stubborn! (OK, being stubborn isn't always a good thing, but in this case it is!) I have committed to writing every day of this month and I am going to! The other good thing about this week was that I went back to the old fashioned way of writing - I got out my notebook and wrote longhand. It was nice, putting actual pen to paper instead of fingers to keys. On Thursday, I wrote at a friend's house after the children my husband and I were babysitting had gone to bed (the eldest of whom is reading this story!) and we waited for our friend to get home. On Friday, I sat in my recliner in the lounge room with my notebook on my lap and a cricket game in the background. (And yes, I was frequently distracted by the cricket!) But on Saturday, I returned to the laptop. That's another thing about the computer age we live in - I type much faster than I write.

Anyway, for those who like statistics..
* Week 2 turned out to be much less prolific than week 1. I wrote a meagre 2680 words, at a daily average of just 382 words.
* As of the 15th (which it still was when I started typing this post!) I am halfway through November writing month.
* The 3rd week has started off more positively, with 1010 words.
* At the halfway point, I have written 10402 words. That's an average of 693 words a day. (I guess that's not bad. A year of 693 words a day would mean over a quarter of a million words by the year's end. Wow!)

So, here are the next instalments. This post incorporates Thursday's 252 words, Friday's 352 words and Saturday's 1010 words.

******
“Hannah! Are you in there?”
Charlotte’s mother sat bolt upright. The sun was streaming in through the window. How had she slept so late? She looked across to Charlotte’s mattress. It was empty. Why hadn’t Charlotte woken her?

“Hannah!” The voice came again, urgent and scared.
Awake now, Hannah recognised the voice. It was Sarah, Troy’s mother. “Yes, Sarah, I am here,” she called. “Wait one moment.” Quickly she dressed and pushed open the cottage door. Sarah was standing there, the distress plain on her face. Hannah rushed over to her. “What is it?” she said. “What is wrong?”

Sarah threw her arms around Hannah’s neck and began to sob. “It’s the children,” she said. “They’re gone.”
A cold knot tightened in the pit of Hannah’s stomach. “What do you mean they’re gone?” she said. “Where have they gone?”
Sarah began crying harder. “He took them,” she sobbed.
“Who did?” said Hannah.
“The stranger. The rat catcher. He came in the night and stole away our children. He has carried out his curse.”

Hannah lost her patience. “Oh for Heaven’s sake, Sarah,” she said. “Not you too. I cannot believe you have been swayed by that silly gossip. The town is not cursed and the children are not stolen. They have probably just gone somewhere to play.”

“You are wrong.” Sarah stood defiantly, shaking her head. “They are gone. He has taken them.”
“How can you be so sure?” asked Hannah.
“Because,” said Sarah, “Without knowing it, he left one child behind.”

The two women hurried towards the Town Square. On the way, Sarah explained what she knew. As her friend spoke, the knot in Hannah’s stomach tightened even further. Could the rumours of a cursed town have been true after all?

“You remember young James Murphy,” said Sarah.
“Of course,” said Hannah. “My Charlotte helped him carry some buckets of water the other week. He was struggling under the weight with that leg of his.” At the mention of her daughter’s name, Hannah’s heart skipped a beat. Where had Charlotte gone?

Sarah grimaced. “James may yet come to thank the horse that threw him off and made him lame,” she said.
“What do you mean?” asked Hannah.
“By all accounts, he couldn’t keep up with the others,” said Sarah. “Everyone is meeting at the Square to hear his story. Come on.”

The crowd in the Square continued to grow. As Hannah and Sarah joined it, Hannah realised with a start the absence of any children. No children chased each other in and out of the market stalls, noone was arguing or calling out names. There was no laughter, no noise. There were no children. None, that is, save the small blue eyed boy who stood in the centre of all the adults, shaking with fear. On one side of him stood the Mayor, Troy’s father. The other Councillors stood on the other side, trying unsuccessfully to stop the crowd from surging towards the frightened youngster.

Sarah pushed through the crowd and knelt down in front of James, grabbing his hand.
“What happened, James?” she asked, her eyes searching his. “Where have they gone?”
“Calm yourself Sarah, you are frightening the boy.” Richard, Troy’s father stepped forward, took her by the arm and led her to one side of the crowd.

“How can you be so unfeeling?” said Sarah. “Our child has disappeared! Don’t you want to know what has happened to him?”
“Of course I do,” replied Richard. “But surely you can see the boy is terrified? If we frighten him further, he might not be able to tell us anything at all.”

James stood in the centre of the Square his heart pounding. Everyone was looking at him. What was he going to say? How could he explain what had happened? He barely knew what had happened himself. He looked from one worried face to the next. He knew that they wanted him to tell them where all the other children had gone. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know. He scanned the throng of faces, looking for one that would comfort him. His own mother was lying down back in their cottage. When he had returned, she had been so relieved to discover that he was safe, she had fainted on the spot. The doctor had been called for and he had ordered that she rest. Then the Mayor had arrived. Before he knew it, James had been swept out of his cottage and led towards the Square. On the way, he had heard the sobbing of the other parents in the village. At that point, he had realised that he was alone. All of the other children had gone.
“James. It will be all right. Please, just tell us what you know.”

James looked in the direction of the voice. He recognised Charlotte’s mother and tried to smile. He liked Charlotte and her mother. Both of them had always kind to him. They didn’t shake their heads in pity whenever they saw him, like so many others did. They were his friends.

He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak. “I don’t know what to say,” he said. His voice shook as he spoke.
“Did you go with the others?” asked Hannah.
James nodded. “Yes,” he said. “At first I did.”
“Where did you go?”
James frowned. “It is difficult to explain,” he said.
“Please try,” said Hannah.

“It happened last night,” said James. “I was asleep and a noise woke me up. I felt drawn to the window and when I opened the shutter, there was an owl sitting on the fencepost.”

At once, voices in the crowd began to yell. “You see?” said one.
“What did I tell you? I saw the owl too!” said another.
“It only appeared after that wretched ratcatcher!” said a third.

“Please!” Hannah raised her voice. “Let the boy speak!” She tried to smile at James. He looked so frightened. Is Charlotte just as frightened, she wondered. At the thought of her daughter, afraid and alone, Hannah’s eyes filled with tears. “Go on, James,” she said.

“When I looked into the owl’s eyes I could hear a man’s voice,” said James. “But he wasn’t speaking out loud. It was in my mind. The voice told me that I was one of the Chosen Ones and I was going to receive my reward. He was going to lead me to a special place. Then the music started. It was so beautiful. It felt like it was inside me, lifting me up. I felt happier than I have felt in such a long time. I never wanted it to end. So I followed the voice and the music. When I got outside, the owl led the way down a path. It was hard to keep up, but I managed at first. After a while, the owl stopped in a clearing and I saw all the other children. They were just as happy and excited as I was. But then the owl started to fly again and everyone followed. I tried to keep up, but my leg was still tired. I couldn’t move as fast as the others. I wasn’t worried at first, because I was sure they would wait for me. At the very top of the hill, I could see a man playing a pipe. I knew that he was the one making the beautiful music.”

“The rat catcher!” Murmurs and whispers echoed through the crowd. Hannah stood in disbelief. So it was true. He had stolen the children after all.

“Suddenly the music stopped and I realised I was too far behind,” continued James. “I tried to speed up, but by the time I reached the entrance, they had all gone.”

“Where was the entrance?” said Hannah.

“From where I was standing, it looked like everyone just walked through one of the rocks,” said James. “I called out, but no one heard me.” He started to cry. “Why did they have to leave me behind?” he said. “I was a Chosen One too. I wanted to be healed again. The voice said I would be. I would have been able to run and play again. Everything would have been so wonderful. But then they disappeared. No one cared that I couldn’t keep up. It isn’t fair.”

Hannah stepped forward and gathered the young boy to her. “Ssh,” she said, stroking his head. “It will be all right.” But even as she said the words, she knew that she didn’t believe them. How could things possibly be all right? How would they ever get the children back?

The men of the village were huddled together. “There must be a cave up there,” said Richard. “We will all go and face the stranger together. We will demand he return our children.”
“Too bad you didn’t think of that before, Jamieson,” said one of the men, angrily. “If you had paid that rat catcher when he asked, this would not have happened. It is your fault.”
“That is not fair!” said Richard, at once. “We all agreed that he did not deserve to be paid. It was not my decision alone.”

“This is not helping,” said Hannah, looking at them sternly. “We need to get our children back, not squabble amongst ourselves.” She looked down at James, who still had his face buried in her skirts. Gently, she put a finger under his chin and raised his face to look back at her. “James,” she said, “Did the voice tell you how long you would visit the place he spoke of?”
James looked confused. “He did not speak of us coming back,” he said.