The Amelia Project - Episode 80 - The Children of Hamelin (1284)

Episode Date: September 27, 2024

In this episode we take you to Christmas 1284 in the small German town of Hamelin, which suffers from a rat infestation. Luckily a Pied Piper and his accomplice have recently moved to town. But the rat catching is merely the front for another, more nefarious business... that of death faking! The Amelia Project is a fiction podcast by Imploding Fictions. This episode featured Hemi Yeroham as Kozlowski, Maty Parzival as Evi, Jordan Cobb as Jackie Willams, Erin King as Mia Fox and Alan Burgon as The Interviewer. It was written by Oystein Brager with story and audio editing by Philip Thorne and additional research by Maty Parzival. It was directed by Philip Thorne and Oystein Brager, sound designed by Alexander Danner, with music by Fredrik Baden and graphic design by Anders Pedersen. Website: https://ameliapodcast.com/  Transcripts: https://ameliapodcast.com/season-5  Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ameliapodcast Donations: https://ameliapodcast.com/support Merch: https://www.teepublic.com/stores/the-amelia-project?ref_id=6148 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ameliapodcast/ Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/ameliapodcast X: https://twitter.com/amelia_podcast Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/theameliaproject.bsky.social Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hello dear Amelia listeners, a quick message before we start. You're listening to the ad-supported version of the show. If you want to listen ad-free and support us more directly, we'd be really grateful. You can do that on Patreon and Apple Podcasts subscriptions. And you can find out more about that by visiting AmeliaPodcasts.com. As an independent podcast, we really rely on direct support. And in addition to ad-free episodes, you can listen a week early and get bonus mini-sodes to follow each regular episode. Your support via Patreon or Apple Podcast subscriptions is what allows us to pay the many talented people we work with and rent studios. You can find out more on AmeliaPodcast.com. And for this episode, we'd

like to thank the University of Pader Barn for letting us record in their studio, and particularly their engineer Bordor Janssen for his calm and confident manner when we were beset by technical gremlin. So thank you Bordor, thanks Pader Barn, and thank you for listening. This episode is dedicated to our patron Ryan Burnett, whose death by spontaneous liquefaction will make it appear as if Ryan melted it into a puddle of organic matter. We will resurrect Ryan as a collector and dealer of esoterica and cursed objects. Be like Ryan and support the show on Patreon.

A big thank you to all of you who are already doing so. And now enjoy the episode. Ah, it seems the roots are awake again. Oh, woohoo. Okay, so we've dug up the roots, brushed, washed, peeled, and sang to them. What next? Well, next we must grate them. Then we fetch fresh water from the brook, heat it over the fire,

and infuse the roots in the boiling water. This tea is a lot of effort. It is a very special tea. Now, let me find the greater... What is that? You're memorizing all this, right? What? We have to memorize all the steps so that we can replicate it.

It must be so... It's all been pretty straightforward so far. I just wish there was some way to speed this up. Patience, Mia. If you have patience then we will have patience. And then we'll have all the time in the world. Here they are, graders, finally. One for you, Jackie. One for you, Mia. And... and... Oh. What? Oh no! Did you see that? See what?

Your root. Its taint is a sullen grey. I suppose, what about it? That will not do at all. Wait, something's wrong with my root and you're telling me now? Couldn't you have said something before we started peeling and brushing and... Nothing is wrong with your root. Oh, but-

The problem is your attitude, Mia. My attitude? Baldur's root is sensitive. It absorbs the feelings and attitudes of those with whom it comes into contact. Oh, for crying out loud. You're rude. I think it is sulking, Mia. Sulking? You see, while the individual steps of this ritual are simple,

they count for nothing, if not performed with the utmost sincerity. And you, Mia, it pains me to say this, but I think you are not taking this entirely seriously. Mia! Oh, come on, Jackie. You really think I've offended this root because of my attitude? It's a fucking root. I actually think it just turned a deeper shade of gray. Seriously? Okay, alright. Seriously, I will take this seriously.

Good. So, let's start grading. No, your route is too vulnerable to be submitted to the assault of the Grater. Before we do that, we must build back up its confidence. What do you suggest? You want me to apologize to it? An apology appeals to the intellect and is not something to which the root is likely to respond. No, the root picks up on feeling. What about a heartfelt apology? I think all your root needs is a bit of cheering up. Okay, we could, um, we could tell it some jokes?

I actually think that is a marvelous idea. Uh, you do? Huh, who's the skeptic now? Please, let us not ruin the moment. Mia, do you know any jokes? Um, I... I... well, um... I really can't think of... I've got one. Alright. No, wait, I've got one. Oh, what was it again?

Um, hang on. Do you have one or not, Mia? Okay, never mind. I've got another one. Ready? Ready. Okay, what do you call two rats? Mia, not to me.

You need to address the root. Oh, right, right. What do you call two roots? Sorry, I mean, what do you call two rats? Two rats that are brothers. Um, do I need to wait for it to reply or? You can move on to the punchline. Brodance.

It's still Greg. That reminds me. What? Rats. I have a story about rats. Is it a funny one? I will let you be the judge of that. Well, the bar has just been significantly lowered

by your joke. Jackie, I was trying. I was being sincere. Here, Jackie, stop. Let me distract you both with a tale. Where are you taking us this time? Back to Florence? England? France?

Germany! Although at the time, it was not a united country, but a collection of independent states. It was the middle of a cold, snowy winter, and Arthur and I had just arrived in the town of Hamelin. Ah, but look at you. You get to wear these nice, colourful clothes. Yes, I admit the clothes are nice, but I still don't like... It is an honourable profession. Honourable?

Yes, ancient and honourable. We are rat catchers. You could at least have set us up with a cleanlier profession. Oh, please, it is just a cover. Old Widow Grimm and her rat infestation beg to differ. Old Widow Grimm may be looking for a disappearance. The rats are probably just an excuse to call you over. Perhaps. Though her son did spend the better part of an hour detailing all the places Widow Grimm had found Ratpool. Telling us where his mother lived seemed like an afterthought.

I found his description of the Rat King especially intriguing. I was trying to forget that. Twenty rats with their tails entangled, squirming at the bottom of her cabinet. Some dead, some shrieking, some biting into... Oh yes, alright, alright, you can stop now. Stop now please, yes, stop. You have to tell me exactly what it is like. You know that, right? I thought you said there were no rats?

I'm not sure what to hope for. Our first client in any city. Or an actual rat king. Widowgroom insisted on seeing only one of us. I cling to the hope this means she needs her death fate. I mean, why should she have rats? There's no reason for a rat infestation in a nice and clean town such as... Oh! Oh! Oh!

Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh, it's not funny! My cloak is covered in snow.

Oh, it's freezing! I have told you not to wear those long pointy shoes. Yes, well, you don't understand fashion. They are a tripping hazard. They are a fashionable tripping hazard. A straw hat is fashionable, but you do not wear it in winter. Oh, I might. Besides, I didn't trip over my shoes. I tripped on that frozen rat. Look at that. A rat frozen stiff. Over there is another one. It seems there are rats

in Hamelin. Oh, I hope they're all dead already. Oh, I really am cold too. I wish I'd finished my Honigwein before we left. Honey wine keeps you very warm. Do not worry. I will warm it up again for you when you come home. Thank you. You're welcome. Something to look forward to. You know something? I already know what old widow Grimm should die from.

You do? But you have not interviewed her yet. Saint Fight Dance. No. Yes, yes, yes. Nonstop maniacal dancing in religious ecstasy. It is perfect. Did you hear about the 200 people who danced on a bridge on the Maas River until it collapsed? I did, of course. I've been dying to use the Sancti Fight dance on a client. How do you think it fits old widow Grimm? She's so old, she cannot even come to see us herself.

I'm sure the prospect of wild physical abandon will perk her up. And besides, San. Vitostanze has an added benefit. Oh? What is that? It's free. We're completely out of money. And if Old Widow Grimm is as much a miser as the average Hamelin... Well, the citizens of Hamelin cannot be as bad as their reputation, surely? No. I mean, you've seen it for yourself since we've arrived. Have I? Oh, come on. The monks back at the monastery served us beer in thimbles.

Ah, yes. And the onions I bought at the market were sold in a patch of dirt so the weight would bring up the price. Well, perhaps they are a bit stingy around these parts. A bit? When I bought the fabric for the Ratcatcher outfit, they measured both the front and the back of the fabric

so the length would double. And the flutes down at the fruit makers in price for each tone hold What Should we not help this lovely little girl And we have no money left. We spent every fennec we had on ratcatcher garments, firewood and a new house. I feel for her. She's almost blue with cold. Look at her.

Oh, so am I. And after all, it is almost Christmas. Um, one will get you fangs, two will get you grace, Free gets you into heaven while four puts a smile on my face sirs. Yes, alright, but but but what can we give her? I do not know but, I will speak with her. Well you do what you want. I need to hurry over to Old Widow Grims. I'll see you back home later.

Hopefully with a new client. Tell me all about the rat king oh for the last time there are no rats hi how long have you been sitting here? Since morning. Oh Darling child you must be cold I'm terribly sorry sir. Does that brick wall have a hole in it? Brick wall hole? What do you mean? That that brick wall that next to you can you see right through it? No, oh

Then I must be hallucinating. I'm seeing right into the living room of a rich couple eating roast goose with apples and prunes and all the trimmings. Right, well, how do you feel about coming with me? Uh... I need to sit here and beg. Oh, no, please. My house is just down the road and the fire is still burning. Here, let me give you a hand. Oh, oh. Sie sind ja stark. Thank you. You're welcome. It is this way. I assume you're an orphan? Oh no, that's very nice.

So why are you begging on the street? My parents told me to. Oh. I assume your parents must be very poor. No, they're rich. Rich? Really? Maybe not rich like a king, but they're rich. Rich? Really? Maybe not rich like a king, but they do fine. My dad's the only butcher in Hammers. So why on earth do they tell you to beg? To get me out of the house.

My mother says she doesn't like wasting firewood on a child, and my father says I need to make myself useful or I won't have a roof over my head. Not that I have a roof over my head anyway, but they kick me out every chance they get. Oh dear. Walking is quite nice after I sat there the whole time. Well, at least they feed you. Yeah, I get the scraps the dogs won't eat. Is that a joke?

They don't like to waste food on a child. Or space. How charming. I'm sorry, but they do not sound fit to be parents. No, Pintuva is just... What? Just normal around here. Normal? How is that normal? We are here. This is my house.

Welcome to the house of the Ratcatchers. Thanks for supporting the Fable and Folly Network. Here's another show we know you'll love. When the internet began, Bulletin Board Services, or BBS, became the first online communities of the so-called information superhighway. Using their phone lines, people logged in from all over America to talk about sports, games, movies, and on one BBS in particular, share their ghost stories. Over time, those communities all went dark, except for one lone server that continues to operate

somewhere in an unknown part of Pennsylvania's Rust Belt. A relic of the 1990s veiled in mystery, it is a digital archive of humanity's strangest encounters with the unknown, as told by the people who experience them. Follow or subscribe to fear daily in your podcast app today before the plug gets pulled on the server. Where am I? Welcome to Desert Skies, traveler. Your journey through the physical plane has come to an end.

I am the attendant. My colleague here is the mechanic. Yo! This is your last stop on your way to the great beyond. It's our job to make sure you're prepared for the ride. Now before hitting the road, we have an impressive selection of over 34 varieties of microwavable burritos. Um, what's going on? There's gotta be a better afterlife than this. I mean, come on!

That's offensive. Something seems to be wrong. You left something major undone. I have a life outside of this gas station, you know. You quite literally do not. Any hobbies? Nope. Ever travel?

Nope. Love interests? Are you kidding? Oh my god. You're like the human version of a plain bagel. Cash register. How can I help you, attendant? Play some music?

You got it. It's kind of funny though. What I needed wasn't back there. It was here, waiting for me. I wonder what it feels like, Mech, to miss the physical plane, the people we left behind. You know, I had a wife who died three years ago. Wish I could go back. No, you don't need to go back.

You just need to be here. And a new traveler approaches. Ready, team? Ready. Good. Let's do this. Find desert skies wherever you listen to podcasts. Make yourself comfortable.

Warm. Oh my god. My fingers are tingling. There we go. That should last for a while. Oh my god, my fingers are tingling. There we go. That should last for a while. And here, drink this. What is that? Heated honey wine. It will help warm you up.

I don't think I've ever met anyone as generous as you. It is nothing but common courtesy. Not in Hameln, it's not. You know, my friend was saying all Hamliners are misers. But I said, they cannot all be that bad. Listen, I've lived here my whole life, and if you've heard jokes about the people of Hameln, I'm here to tell you they're not jokes. In Hameln, the taverns expect you to bring your own food and drink.

The church charges parishioners per ding of the bell. And if you visit someone's house, don't ever make the mistake of sitting down, or the hosts will charge you for wear and tear. Were you actually hallucinating earlier? I saw parties and feasts and fires and games and all sorts of stuff. It was quite right. I cannot believe your parents kicked you out into the snow on a day like this. If they knew you were hallucinating about what the strangers in the buildings around you were eating...

Oh, no, no, not strangers. Excuse me? That was our brick wall. You hallucinated your own parents. Yeah, I knew they were having goose today because the dogs love it, and my mother said I should probably sort out my own dinner because there wouldn't be any scraps.

Oh, did I tell you the goose I saw jumped up and walked around with forks sticking out of its back? She could really do without services. You please? Nothing. What do you mean I could do with your services? I might be starving but I draw the line at eating rats. Oh no no no I did not mean you should eat the rats we catch. Then... what?

Well, rat catching is not the only thing we do. So what else do you do? We... give people new lives. Yes, please! But unfortunately, we do not take children as clients. Oh. I am sorry about that. Why not?

Well, we cannot charge children. They have no money. Also, there is the consideration of morality. Doing something against the will of the parents. Shame. I know a lot of kids who could need your help. I do not believe every child in Hamelin has it as bad as you. True. Most probably have it worse.

Oh, it cannot be that bad. No? I thought Hamelin was a quiet, calm place. An average town of average people with average morality do you know Gepetto the carpenter no he keeps cutting pieces off of his son's nose why he says his son's nose grows longer whenever he tells a lie he says he just wants to cut it down to normal poor Pinocchio is telling the truth all he can but his father won't believe him soon he won't have a nose left at all.

Ah, surely that must be the exception. Not the rule. You'd think. The miller works poor Grabat to death, as well as the eleven other boys he's imprisoned. Rotkabchen's mother sent her alone into the wolf forest, dressed in a bright red cloak. I reckon she hoped she'd be eaten, and Rapunzel has been imprisoned in that tower for years whilst Muttergote climbs in and out, using her hair as a ladder. That must hurt like hell! All of that sounds terrible, but…

But take Aschenputtel! Her stepmother uses her as a slave around the house, whilst her two stepsisters prance around in nice dresses. Ellie's family put her out in the shed in the middle of a storm. She was taken by a, um, Dingenskirchen's, Windhorse, blown to god knows where, and when she came back she was all kooky. And Hansel, Kletets' Großmutter, is fattening them up and we're worried she's planning to eat them. I admit these fates are extraordinary. Oh, and Frau Holle covered her daughter in tar. Have you tried asking for help? From your teachers maybe?

Frau Lein Knöpfeckow? She locked my friend Matilda in a cupboard full of nails. Right. In fact, I don't think I know a single child in Hameln who is happy. Apart from, as one puts it, stepsisters. And I think they're in their forties. Though, to be fair, they cut their heels off to fit into some shoes, so they clearly have issues. I do not know what to say. As kids have talked about it, we think maybe it's the sickness of the humerus that has affected all of the parents in Hamann.

Or maybe they were all born from Devil's Fawn. Or maybe they're just regular old shitholes. Child, I would like to tell you a story. Is it a true story? Maybe. Maybe it is a fairy tale. It starts like this. Märchenstunde! Once upon a time in Tyre lived a boy.

Let us call him Baal. Baal's father was a covetous man. He had heard of men owning phoenixes, the magical birds with the bright red plume. I know, the ones that burn and come back to life. Indeed, and Baal's father wanted one for himself. So one day he told Baal that it was Baal's job to find him one. Baal looked in every stall at every market. He asked every ship down at the docks. He knocked on doors, trawled the forests and searched the fields around Tyre, but no phoenix to be found. Every night Baal came home empty-handed, and every night

his father beat him. Baal's brothers learned the family trade, preparing them for the future. They worked during the day in the father's workshop, and they played and rested in the evenings. Baal, on the other hand, had to spend every waking hour searching for a phoenix. His father would not let him into the house until nightfall, and Baal always dreaded going home, for he knew there would be a thrashing. He simply could not find a phoenix. There were no aviaries for as far as Baal could walk that had ever housed a real phoenix, nor any temples where phoenixes had ever resided. There was only his father's

greed and the violence that waited at home So, one day Baal ran away. Yes! He was sure that as soon as he was gone, his father would no longer remember his name. His father had already taken to referring to him only as the Disappointment. Baal walked as far as he could walk, and when he could walk no longer, he sneaked onto a ship and hid in the hull. He sailed for weeks and weeks as a stowaway, and finally went

ashore in a new and foreign land, somewhere he knew no one and nothing. Ah! Baal begged on the street and survived of scraps found in the gutter. He grew thin and weak, and his mind suffered from the lack of food, but at least he was free from his father's greed. Or so he thought. Oh no. Because when you have grown up knowing one thing and one thing only, even if you escape your prison, it is much harder to escape your mind.

What do you mean? Well, I knew it was wrong of his dad to beat him, and it was the beating that he escaped but he had also learned that the most valuable thing you could own, the one thing that would matter over all others, was a phoenix. So one day at a market he saw an old hen, a thin and sickly old hen with dirty wings that no one else wanted to buy. He walked over to the merchant and said, that bird over there is my phoenix. Oh no, he'd lost it. The merchant, who was selling the hen, noticed the vacant resolution in the boy's eyes and knew what he was dealing with. So when Baal

asked if he could have the hen, the merchant asked, what are you willing to pay? Baal answered, I have nothing, but I am willing to give anything, for this is my phoenix. The merchant said, "'Anything?' "'Anything I can give, I will give,' Baal answered. "'If you have no money and do not own anything, I must ask for something different in return,' the merchant said. "'Anything?'

Baal repeated. And so the merchant asked for Baal's hands. His hands? You mean as a labourer, right? No, to be cut off. You see, the merchant's son had lost both his hands in an accident some time before. The merchant wanted his son to have a friend who was like him. So the merchant asked Baal to cut off both his hands and come live with his family for one year. If Baal did that he could have the hen when the year was up. I hope Baal ran away. He did not. He accepted, for he knew that in one year he would get his Phoenix. What a sick and twisted man, this merchant.

Twisted by circumstance, sick with sorrow perhaps. The merchant was not a bad man, although right there at the market place, he did chop both of Baal's hands off. Hi! And then Baal went to live with the merchant's family. He was treated well, the merchant's wife fed him and clothed him, the merchant's son was a fun child to be around and they were good friends for a year. But once a year had passed, Baal said his goodbyes and asked if he could have the hen now. I bet they didn't want to let him go. They did perhaps not want to but I told you the merchant was

not a bad man. He kept his word. It was a fair sale in the merchant's eyes. The merchant had got the price he asked for, and so the customer should get what he asked for. So after one year, Baal got an old sickly hen. Jesus Christus! Baal cared for the hen. As much as is possible when you live on the streets and you have no hands. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. His hands had been cut off. But even so, Baal nursed the sick hen back to health. He had learned to use his feet for almost anything.

He picked up scraps of food with his toes, and always gave the bird the best bits, and ate the worst himself. Ew. They lived by the side of a busy road, and every time someone knew past, they laughed at Bal. For it was a sight to behold, the mad child who used his feet to feed a hen and who shouted in joy and ecstasy, This, this is a phoenix, I have a phoenix.

Poor Baal. For five years this went on, the bird now nearing the end of its life. But then one day, the most extraordinary thing happened. It was a cold night, and both Baal and the hen could feel what was about to happen. The bird was about to freeze to death. But Baal did not fret, for he knew the hen was a phoenix. So he gathered some twigs and made a fire. With his feet!

And he said to the hen, This is your fire, phoenix. Now you must burn and come back then he lifted the sick hen into the fire and the bird was too old and too sick to escape so she slumped into the flames and caught fire i really hope this ends with him eating the bird and like it's really tender and moist and stuff oh the bird burned to ashes. And for twelve days and twelve nights, Baal sat next to the ashes, not eating, not drinking, just waiting. People walking by did not laugh anymore.

They thought it was tragic. They thought that the boy would die. They thought he would starve to death just sitting there. But the boy smiled and smiled for he knew it was a phoenix. But it was a hen. It was a hen. Until it was not a hen anymore. What? On the thirteenth day the bird rose from its ashes, its plume as red as blood. Wow! And it was a phoenix, and the bird spoke to Baal. And the bird spoke to Baal.

You believed in me, it said. You saw me for what I was, when everyone else saw a sick old hen. You nursed me back to health and kept me alive till the end of my cycle. You gave six years of your life for me, and then you waited for me for 12 days and 12 nights. You gave me the best you had, your food and your devotion and for that I shall give you a gift." Wow! The bird beckoned Baal over and told Baal to stretch out his arms.

Then the bird blinked twice. Two teardrops fell down. One onto each of Baal's stumps, and within a minute, two new hands had grown. Nikhva! I have given you hands, said the bird. But they are not any hands. They are not your hands, they are mine. And just like I healed you with my tears, my hands can also heal. Use them off, flying high, high into the sky. The end.

Yeah, that was a fairy tale. Good one though. So what am I supposed to take from that? That it's a good idea to run away from home? That I should gather all my friends and we should just make a run for it? No. It is a story about managing on your own, despite the adults around you. What is it?

I wanted to tell you the story because I thought it might be significant to you. But now that I have told it, I realized that I was telling it to myself. My mind was working to change my decision. What decision? About not helping children. Child, you are no longer in the Ratcatcher's house. What decision? About not helping children Child you are no longer in the rat catcher's house. You are now visiting the Brotherhood of the Phoenix The Brotherhood of the... We will help you all of you. No children should live like this

Wow, but how? The Brotherhood of the Phoenix do not just give people new lives. We help you get rid of your old ones. More specifically, we help people fake their deaths. You want to kill all of us, but like play pretend? That is a lot of kids to kill at once, and we're never in the same place. So how are you- A child exodus, led by a rat catcher.

Bitte? This is how it will happen. Hamelin has a rat problem. I have seen three dead rats just outside the house today, and three dead rats lying in the street is a sign there are hundreds of living ones inside. The rats in Hamelin are bigger than cats. People say they're the only thing Hamelin doesn't skimp on. But what has that got to do with us kids?

On the feast of St. John and St. Paul, a certain handsome and well-dressed man will dance through the streets playing a silver pipe of the most magnificent sorts. It better be a good flute we paid handsomely for it. The man will be dressed in a coat of bright and many-colored clothes. A splendid rat-catcher costume so that all who see him admire him for his appearance. Stopping at the market square, this Pied Piper will speak to the gathering crowd, proclaiming that he can get rid of all the rats in Hamelin

by luring the rats away with his magic flute, leading them into the Fiesta to drown. He will only do this in return for fair payment. You expect the people in this town to pay up? I don't think so. They will agree to his price. My friend can be very convincing. And I will hide in the crowd to help sway public opinion.

Besides, he will set the price very low. One thousand guilders. That's a lot of money. Not for solving the kind of rat problem you have in Hamelin. But you are right. I'm not expecting the townspeople to actually pay. In fact, the plan hinges on them refusing. Yeah, no worries. They'll find an excuse. When the citizens refuse to pay for the Pied Piper's service, he will retaliate. How?

He will play his silver flute again. But this time, it is not the rats who follow him. No? Oh. Is he going to drown the parents? No, wait. Of course. You said-

This time, it will be the children who follow. A long train of every child in Hamelin, dancing after the Pied Piper down the cobbled street, out through the East Gate, no ears for their parents' cries. All the way over the top of Cobbleberg Hill, the Piper will lead them, to the Calvary, where the executions take place there they vanish so that no trace of them can be found as if they were eaten alive by the calvary oh the hill that looks like a skull we don't go there

it's creepy and there's a secret tunnel under the executioners block how do you know I have been here before. Now, the mothers of the children will run from town to town looking for their babes. But they will find nothing. The children will be gone for good. Wow. That's amazing.

But where will we go? We will take you to a beautiful land where you can live in peace. What land? Transylvania! The mountains? Aren't conditions there super harsh? The valleys. Deep, lush valleys full of rivers, pastures, forests, food hanging right in front of your noses wherever you go. Plus there's a man there who owes us a favor. He escaped to life as a dairy farmer to become a lonesome count living in a huge empty castle. You could use

some company and the castle is more than big enough to house all of you. It is too good to be true. No. It is good enough to be fair. Well, I'll... I'll let the other kids know. Good. We have an agreement then. I look forward. Just tell us what to do, and we'll do it. Ah, your job is easy. The third time the Rat catcher places flute,

you follow. How can we ever pay you back? Ah, you don't have to. Entschuldigung? Like I said before, we cannot charge children. Danke. Bitte. All right, I need to be on my way. If my father sees that I'm not begging on the corner... Go! But remember, any time you need to warm yourself, you can come here. We do not want you to freeze to death before we have faked your death. You'll see me around then. Before you go. I never got your name. Ify. I never got yours either. It's Behram. Behram Behnam.

What an odd name. I shall see you soon, Ify. Ah! Hello. Oh, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, Oh, ah, goodbye. Well, goodbye. Short visit? I let her sit by the fire. So how did it go? Er... tell me.

Rat. No client? No. What was the Rat King like? Gross. Utterly disgusting. Oh, I managed to get it out and throw it in the river. But some were still alive. I'll have nightmares about that for decades.

I guess the only positive thing about this evening was this. A chain. I guess the only positive thing about this evening was this. Hmm. Ah! Catching! Or rather, rat catching. Rat catching. Right? Get it? Rat catching? All right, anyhow, we've got some fennigs again.

You see, the reason Widow Grimm only invited one of us was because her lodgings were so small that only one person would fit in the room at once. She stood outside in the hallway shouting directions through the door. And yet there were so many rats. I mean, how could so many rats live in such a small room? And how could Widow Grimm live in a room with so many rats? And then I kept falling over. Falling over? Yes, these darn pointed shoes. I was stumbling all over the place,

face first into scuttling rats, grasping at them with my hands, trying to shoo them into my bag. I'm not cut out for this. I'm never wearing these stupid, pretty, fashionable shoes ever again. In fact, I refuse to ever wear this silly costume again, too. I don't want to be a rat catcher. Well, you are in luck. I will get your wish fulfilled. Oh, thank God.

Though I reckon we would have had a good run of it in Hamelin, alas. You will only have to be the rat catcher once more. Once more? Why just once more? Then we are leaving. Why are we leaving? What are you up to? What if you could remove all of the rats in Hamelin at once?

How would I do that? With your flute. With my flute? We have to figure out how to train all the rats in Hamelin to follow your flute. Come again? I will find a way. You are something else. I mean, really... Are you going to tell me why we are doing this?

In time. Alright, where is that Hornk vine you promised me? The Hornyk vine? Yes, I'm past. Well, you see... There it is. What? But... My mug is empty. Why is my mug empty?

I wanted to toast to a job well done and you... Did you give it to that child? You did, didn't you? Arthur, she was very cold. Rats. This day is the worst. Stay tuned for the epilogue, but first the credits. The Amelia Project is a production of imploding fictions. This episode featured Hemi Yiroham as Kozlovsky, Marty Patsyval as Athey, Jordan Cobb as Jackie Williams, Aaron King as Mia Fox and Alan Bergen as the interviewer. The episode was written by Einstein Braga with story and audio editing by Philip Thorne

and additional research by Marty Patsyver. It was directed by Philip Thorne and Einstein Braga, sound design by Alexander Danner with music by Frederick Barden and graphic design by Anders Pedersen. This show exists courtesy of our patrons, so if you are supporting us on Patreon or Apple Podcasts, thank you so much, we couldn't do this without you. And if you're not yet supporting us but are considering it, head over to AmeliaPodcast.com and click on support the show to see the various options and get more info. Depending on your level of support, you can get ad-free episodes, early releases, invites

to listening parties, bonus episodes and bonus series, dedications and shoutouts in the credits. Speaking of which, a massive thank you to our super patrons, without whom this show would disappear. At the time of recording, that's Celeste, Joe's, Heat 312, Gemphidic, Albina Sant, Amelie and Allison, Stefanie Weitniller, Raphael, Eduardo Vivas, Verasteky, Allison Thro, Patricia Bornwagner, Bryce Godmer, Cliff Heisinger, Michael West, Diana, Bertchen Breiter, Tim McMacken, Bly Varnie, Natalia Aurora, Lee and V. Huardine, Mr. Squiggles, Tony Fisher, Tibby, Florian Byers, Kourtney Mays, Rensen Boo, Mark Strobenek, Astra Kim, Olivia Dodson, And now, the epilogue. Ben Carlisle, Miss Nixie, Mystic Sybil, Tiffany Duffy, Jason Woods and Ryan O'Mara.

And now, the epilogue. You hadn't told us a Phoenix story for a while. Now you're claiming you were Berem? Before you said Berem was your husband. Yeah, but he took his face, remember? Okay, but that was like a few decades ago. Not several centuries ago. It doesn't make sense. Well, we'd established all that was bullshit. Let me rephrase.

I don't think anything he says can be taken at face value. That phoenix story? It's like the girl said, a fairy tale. Oh, I've got a phoenix joke! Let's hear it. What do you get when you touch a phoenix? I don't know. What do you get when you touch a phoenix? Bird degree burns. Oh, boo! That was terrible. What was your joke? Huh? You never told your joke.

Oh, it was a chicken joke, actually. Oh, yeah? What do you get when it was a chicken joke, actually. Oh, yeah? What do you get when you cross a chicken with a ghost? I don't know. What do you get when you cross a chicken with a ghost? A poultry geist. Oh, God. Look.

What? Your root. Oh. It's no longer a sulky gray, it's cheery orange! It worked! Okay! Okay, and point taken! And I know why you told that story. It was a story about the power of belief, right?

Well, I promise that from now until sunrise, I will believe. I will believe so hard. Um, hey Kozlovsky? What's, uh, what's up? Oh no, has he gone into one of his trances again? Kozlovsky? Hey Kozlovsky? Madam? Bekhram? Hey, you okay buddy?

I am sorry. Ancient memories. Look at my root, orange. Can we grade it now? Indeed. I am proud of you, Mia Fox. Let us us great and I will tell you another story another Phoenix story No No more Phoenix stories not for a while anyway, I am NOT ready for that but

There will be one. Yes one more Phoenix story? Yes. A story about Bacchram? Yes. The Fable and Falling Network, where fiction producers flourish. You start with your own breathing. Match the rhythm of the breeze that carves the canopy, the birds and bugs chirping in set intervals, feel the subtle

pulse rising up from the ground beneath you. To wander is to dance with the forest. But the forest isn't just the partner. She's the music, the style, she's the rhythm, she's the set of ancient steps and movements that have been passed down from one dancer to another. She teaches you to dance the dance she invented to the music she's singing in a tonal system she thought up one night as it pleased her. You breathe, and you listen, and you wait for your place, your first step, the call to Wanderer is a new fairy folktale podcast from T.H. Ponder's, a member of the Fable and Folly Network.

Listen to the show by searching for The Wanderer in Apple Podcasts or by visiting www.callofthewander.com