The Tale of the Town on the River: The Pillow Man, Mcdonagh

Once upon a time in a tiny cobble-streeted town on the banks of a

fast-flowing river, there lived a little boy who did not get along with the

other children of the town; they picked on a bullied him because he was

poor and his parents were drunkards and his clothes were rags and he walked

around barefoot. The little boy, however, was of a happy and dreamy

disposition, and he did not mind the taunts and the beatings and the

unending solitude. He knew that he was kind-hearted and full of love and

that someday someone somewhere would see this love inside him and repay him

in kind. Then, one night, as he sat nursing his newest bruises at the foot

of the wooden bridge that crossed the river and led out of town, he heard

the approach of a horse cart along the dark, cobbled street, and as it

neared he saw that its driver was dressed in the darkest of robes, the

black hood of which bathed his craggy face in shadow and sent a shiver of

fear through the little boy’s body. Putting his fear aside, the boy took

out the small sandwich that was to be his supper that night and, just as

the cart was about to pass onto and over the bridge, he offered it up to

the hooded driver to see if he would like some. The cart stopped, the

driver nodded, got down and sat beside the little boy for a while, sharing

the sandwich and discussing this and that. The driver asked the boy why he

was barefoot and ragged and all alone, and as the boy told the driver of

his poor, hard life, he eyed the back of the driver’s cart; it was piled

high with small, empty animal cages, all foul-smelling and dirt lined, and

just as the boy was about to ask what kind of animals it was had been

inside them, the driver stood up and announced that he had to be on his

way. “But before I go,�? the driver whispered, “because you have been so

kindly to an old weary traveler in offering half of your already meagre

portions, I would like to give you something now, the worth of which today

you may not realise, but one day, when you are a little older, perhaps, I

think you will truly value and thank me for. Now close your eyes.�? And so

the little boy did what he was told and closed his eyes, and from a secret

inner pocket of his robes the driver pulled out a long, sharp and shiny

meat cleaver, raised it high in the air and brought it scything down onto

the boy’s right foot, severing all five of his muddy little toes. And as

the little boy say there in gaping silent shock, staring blankly off into

the distance at nothing in particular, the driver gathered up his bloody

toes, tossed them away to the gaggle of rats that had begun to gather in

the gutters, got back onto his cart, and quietly rode on over the bridge,

leaving the boy, the rats, the river and the darkening town of Hamelin far

behind him.