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It was dark in the village. The clouds rolled overhead. Streaks of lightning flashed from one cloud to another. Thunder rolled. Then the rain started. Little by little, it grew rapid, from sprinkling, to a downpour. That was when it was heard. The music. The soft violin music seemed to be comming from the forest surrounding the village. Small faces were soon pressed to their windows. All faces of the children. They dissapeared, and were soon walking out of the house. Still dressed in their night garments, and their shawls wrapped around their shoulders, they walked twards the music. They seemed to be intranced. The kids from one to fifteen walked, hand-in-hand into the forest. They heard the voice singing with the music:


Come little childern, come with me.
You'll be happy, wait and see.
For I shall help you smile,
If you wish to stay a while.

I don't make promisis I won't keep,
Like your mother and father, who shall weep.
Live with me, don't be afraid,
And you won't ever be betrayed.


The children smiled, and ran twards the voice. They came upon a small hut. Inside, the voilin, and the voice, were playing. They laughed, and ran inside. There, sitting on a stool, was a young woman with long blonde hair. Her green eyes opened and she smiled at the kids, staring at her. "Welcome, children." "Are you the one who was singing?" a boy inquired. The woman nodded. "Yes. I am." "You have a wonderful voice!" "Why thank you." "Did you mean it, when you said we could live with you?" "Yes I did, that is, if you want to...." "Yes! We'd love to stay here!" The woman's smile broadened. "Well then. that settles it. I am now, your mother. My name is Kathryne. You may call me, Mama Kathryne." "Thank you, Mama Kathryne!"


********************

Over at the village, the sun was creeping over the horizon. The screams and weeping of the children's parents echoed. Everyone gathered in the square. The men were outrages, the women were depressed. They demaned to know where they're kids were. No one answered, for none knew. The children had seemingly vanished, they're shawls gone. No one heard the voilin, or the laughter of their children over the yells, and weeping of the parents......


It had been three months, and the children were still gone. Nobody knew what to do. The women were still weeping at the mere mention of their son or daughter's name, and the men had searched the forest return late at night with nothing. They followed the footprints of the children, but they stopped around the edge. It was as if they were picked up, but there was no sign of a struggle, or anything. They just stopped. Soon, the men gave up, and assumed the worse, they were killed by the animals. No one smiled at all as they placed grave markers in their forest.