Wish I Could Get Dicked Down Again
The Monkey's Paw
past West. W. Jacobs
The Monkey's Paw is a classic "three wishes" story that doubles as a horror story and a cautionary tale; reminding united states that unintended consequences often accompany the best intentions. This widely read story is a favorite in classrooms around the world. The story was first published in 1902 and then featured in The Lady of the Barge, published in 1911. We created The Monkey'south Paw Study Guide to benefit students and teachers. Enjoy our drove of Halloween Stories.
"Be conscientious what you wish for, you may receive it." --Anonymous
Part I
Without, the dark was cold and wet, but in the small-scale parlour of Laburnum villa the blinds were drawn and the fire burned brightly. Father and son were at chess; the former, who possessed ideas nigh the game involving radical chances, putting his rex into such sharp and unnecessary perils that it even provoked comment from the white-haired onetime lady knitting placidly by the fire.
"Hark at the wind," said Mr. White, who, having seen a fatal mistake after it was too late, was amiably desirous of preventing his son from seeing information technology.
"I'g listening," said the latter grimly surveying the lath as he stretched out his hand. "Bank check."
"I should inappreciably remember that he'south come up tonight, " said his father, with his manus poised over the board.
"Mate," replied the son.
"That'due south the worst of living so far out," balled Mr. White with sudden and unlooked-for violence; "Of all the beastly, slushy, out of the style places to live in, this is the worst. Path's a bog, and the road'southward a torrent. I don't know what people are thinking nearly. I suppose because just two houses in the road are permit, they think it doesn't matter."
"Never heed, dear," said his wife soothingly; "possibly you lot'll win the next one."
Mr. White looked upward sharply, just in time to intercept a knowing glance betwixt mother and son. the words died abroad on his lips, and he hid a guilty grinning in his thin grey beard.
"There he is," said Herbert White as the gate banged to loudly and heavy footsteps came toward the door.
The old man rose with hospitable haste and opening the door, was heard condoling with the new arrival. The new inflow also condoled with himself, and so that Mrs. White said, "Tut, tut!" and coughed gently as her married man entered the room followed past a tall, burly man, beady of eye and rubicund of visage.
"Sergeant-Major Morris, " he said, introducing him.
The Sergeant-Major took hands and taking the proffered seat by the fire, watched contentedly as his host got out whiskey and tumblers and stood a pocket-size copper kettle on the fire.
At the 3rd glass his eyes got brighter, and he began to talk, the fiddling family circle regarding with eager involvement this company from distant parts, every bit he squared his broad shoulders in the chair and spoke of wild scenes and doughty deeds; of wars and plagues and strange peoples.
"20-one years of it," said Mr. White, nodding at his wife and son. "When he went away he was a slip of a youth in the warehouse. Now await at him."
"He don't look to have taken much harm." said Mrs. White politely.
"I'd like to go to India myself," said the onetime man, only to look around a bit, you know."
"Ameliorate where y'all are," said the Sergeant-Major, shaking his head. He put downwards the empty drinking glass and sighning softly, shook it again.
"I should like to run into those quondam temples and fakirs and jugglers," said the old man. "what was that that yous started telling me the other day near a monkey's paw or something, Morris?"
"Goose egg." said the soldier hastily. "Leastways, nil worth hearing."
"Monkey's hand?" said Mrs. White curiously.
"Well, it's just a chip of what you might call magic, mayhap." said the Sergeant-Major off-handedly.
His three listeners leaned forwards eagerly. The visitor absent-mindedly put his empty drinking glass to his lips and and then set information technology downwards once more. His host filled it for him again.
"To await at," said the Sergeant-Major, fumbling in his pocket, "it'south merely an ordinary fiddling paw, dried to a mummy."
He took something out of his pocket and proffered it. Mrs. White drew back with a grimace, merely her son, taking it, examined it curiously.
"And what is at that place special about it?" inquired Mr. White every bit he took it from his son, and having examined information technology, placed it upon the table.
"Information technology had a spell put on it past an former Fakir," said the Sergeant-Major, "a very holy human. He wanted to show that fate ruled people's lives, and that those who interfered with it did and so to their sorrow. He put a spell on information technology so that three separate men could each have three wishes from information technology."
His manners were and so impressive that his hearers were conscious that their light laughter had jarred somewhat.
"Well, why don't yous have three, sir?" said Herbert White cleverly.
The soldier regarded him the way that middle age is wont to regard presumptuous youth."I accept," he said quietly, and his blotchy confront whitened.
"And did you really take the three wishes granted?" asked Mrs. White.
"I did," said the sergeant-major, and his glass tapped against his stiff teeth.
"And has anybody else wished?" persisted the quondam lady.
"The beginning human had his 3 wishes. Yep," was the reply, "I don't know what the get-go two were, but the third was for death. That's how I got the hand."
His tones were so grave that a hush savage upon the group.
"If you've had your three wishes it's no skilful to you lot now then Morris," said the erstwhile man at last. "What practice y'all keep it for?"
The soldier shook his head. "Fancy I suppose," he said slowly." I did accept some thought of selling information technology, simply I don't think I volition. It has caused me enough mischief already. Besides, people won't purchase. They think it's a fairy tale, some of them; and those who do recollect anything of it desire to try it first and pay me later."
"If you could have some other three wishes," said the old human, eyeing him keenly," would you accept them?"
"I don't know," said the other. "I don't know."
He took the paw, and dangling it between his forefinger and thumb, suddenly threw it upon the fire. White, with a slight cry, stooped downward and snatched it off.
"Better allow information technology fire," said the soldier solemnly.
"If you don't want it Morris," said the other, "give it to me."
"I won't." said his friend adamantly. "I threw information technology on the fire. If you lot keep information technology, don't blame me for what happens. Pitch it on the burn like a sensible human being."
The other shook his head and examined his possession closely. "How do you practise it?" he inquired.
"Concord it upwards in your right mitt, and wish aloud," said the Sergeant-Major, "But I warn you of the consequences."
"Sounds like the 'Arabian Nights'", said Mrs. White, every bit she rose and began to set the supper. "Don't you think you might wish for four pairs of easily for me."
Her husband drew the talisman from his pocket, and all three burst into laughter equally the Seargent-Major, with a look of alarm on his confront, caught him by the arm.
"If y'all must wish," he said gruffly, "Wish for something sensible."
Mr. White dropped it back in his pocket, and placing chairs, motioned his friend to the tabular array. In the business of supper the talisman was partly forgotten, and afterward the three saturday listening in an enthralled fashion to a second installment of the soldier'southward adventures in India.
"If the tale nearly the monkey's paw is not more than truthful than those he has been telling us," said Herbert, as the door closed backside their guest, just in time to catch the last railroad train, "we shan't make much out of it."
"Did you requite annihilation for information technology, begetter?" inquired Mrs. White, regarding her husband closely.
"A trifle," said he, colouring slightly, "He didn't want it, simply I fabricated him take information technology. And he pressed me again to throw it abroad."
"Probable," said Herbert, with pretended horror. "Why, we're going to be rich, and famous, and happy. Wish to exist an emperor, father, to begin with; so you lot tin't be henpecked."
He darted around the tabular array, pursued by the maligned Mrs White armed with an antimacassar.
Mr. White took the hand from his pocket and eyed it dubiously. "I don't know what to wish for, and that's a fact," he said slowly. It seems to me I've got all I want."
"If y'all only cleared the house, you lot'd be quite happy, wouldn't you lot!" said Herbert, with his manus on his shoulder. "Well, wish for two hundred pounds, then; that'll just practice it."
His male parent, smiling shamefacedly at his own credulity, held up the talisman, as his son, with a solemn face, somewhat marred past a flash at his mother, sat down and struck a few impressive chords.
"I wish for two hundred pounds," said the old man distinctly.
A fine crash from the piano greeted his words, interrupted by a shuddering cry from the one-time human being. His wife and son ran toward him.
"It moved," he cried, with a glance of disgust at the object every bit it lay on the floor. "As I wished, it twisted in my mitt similar a serpent."
"Well, I don't come across the coin," said his son, equally he picked it up and placed it on the table, "and I bet I never shall."
"It must have been your fancy, male parent," said his wife, regarding him anxiously.
He shook his head. "Never mind, though; in that location's no harm washed, just it gave me a shock all the same."
They sat downwards past the burn down again while the two men finished their pipes. Outside, the wind was higher than ever, an the erstwhile man started nervously at the sound of a door banging upstairs. A silence unusual and depressing settled on all iii, which lasted until the old couple rose to retire for the residual of the night.
"I await y'all'll find the cash tied upwards in a big bag in the middle of your bed," said Herbert, equally he bade them good night, " and something horrible squatting on superlative of your wardrobe watching you every bit you pocket your ill-gotten gains."
He sabbatum lonely in the darkness, gazing at the dying fire, and seeing faces in it. The last was so horrible and and so simian that he gazed at it in amazement. Information technology got so vivid that, with a little uneasy laugh, he felt on the tabular array for a glass containing a niggling water to throw over it. His hand grasped the monkey's hand, and with a little shiver he wiped his hand on his coat and went up to bed.
Part Two
In the effulgence of the wintry dominicus next morning as information technology streamed over the breakfast table he laughed at his fears. At that place was an air of prosaic wholesomeness near the room which it had lacked on the previous night, and the dingy, shriveled niggling hand was pitched on the side-board with a carelessness which betokened no great belief in its virtues.
"I suppose all quondam soldiers are the same," said Mrs White. "The idea of our listening to such nonsense! How could wishes be granted in these days? And if they could, how could two hundred pounds hurt you, male parent?"
"Might driblet on his head from the sky," said the frivolous Herbert.
"Morris said the things happened so naturally," said his father, "that you might if you so wished attribute information technology to coincidence."
"Well don't pause into the coin before I come back," said Herbert as he rose from the table. "I'k agape it'll turn you into a mean, acquisitive man, and nosotros shall accept to disown you."
His mother laughed, and following him to the door, watched him down the route; and returning to the breakfast table, was very happy at the expense of her husband's credulity. All of which did non prevent her from scurrying to the door at the postman'southward knock, nor prevent her from referring somewhat shortly to retired Sergeant-Majors of bibulous habits when she found that the post brought a tailor's bill.
"Herbert will have some more than of his funny remarks, I expect, when he comes home," she said as they sabbatum at dinner.
"I dare say," said Mr. White, pouring himself out some beer; "but for all that, the thing moved in my mitt; that I'll swear to."
"You thought it did," said the old lady soothingly.
"I say it did," replied the other. "There was no thought about it; I had just - What'southward the matter?"
His wife made no answer. She was watching the mysterious movements of a man outside, who, peering in an undecided fashion at the house, appeared to be trying to make up his mind to enter. In mental connexion with the two hundred pounds, she noticed that the stranger was well dressed, and wore a silk lid of glossy newness. Three times he paused at the gate, and then walked on again. The fourth time he stood with his hand upon it, and and then with sudden resolution flung it open and walked up the path. Mrs White at the same moment placed her hands behind her, and hurriedly unfastening the strings of her frock, put that useful article of apparel beneath the absorber of her chair.
She brought the stranger, who seemed ill at ease, into the room. He gazed at her furtively, and listened in a preoccupied fashion as the erstwhile lady apologized for the appearance of the room, and her husband's glaze, a garment which he unremarkably reserved for the garden. She then waited as patiently every bit her sexual activity would permit for him to broach his business, but he was at first strangely silent.
"I - was asked to call," he said at terminal, and stooped and picked a piece of cotton from his trousers. "I come from 'Maw and Meggins.' "
The old lady started. "Is anything the thing?" she asked breathlessly. "Has anything happened to Herbert? What is it? What is information technology?
Her husband interposed. "At that place there female parent," he said hastily. "Sit, and don't jump to conclusions. You've not brought bad news, I'g sure sir," and eyed the other wistfully.
"I'm sorry - " began the company.
"Is he hurt?" demanded the female parent wildly.
The company bowed in assent."Badly hurt," he said quietly, "but he is non in any hurting."
"Oh give thanks God!" said the one-time woman, clasping her hands. "Thank God for that! Give thanks - "
She broke off every bit the sinister meaning of the assurance dawned on her and she saw the atrocious confirmation of her fears in the others averted confront. She defenseless her breath, and turning to her slower-witted husband, laid her trembling manus on his. There was a long silence.
"He was defenseless in the machinery," said the visitor at length in a depression vox.
"Caught in the machinery," repeated Mr. White, in a dazed fashion,"yes."
He sabbatum staring out the window, and taking his wife's hand between his own, pressed it equally he had been wont to practise in their sometime courting days nearly forty years before.
"He was the just one left to us," he said, turning gently to the company. "It is hard."
The other coughed, and rising, walked slowly to the window. " The firm wishes me to convey their sincere sympathy with you in your great loss," he said, without looking round. "I beg that you will understand I am only their servant and only obeying orders."
There was no reply; the quondam adult female's face was white, her eyes staring, and her jiff inaudible; on the hubby'southward face was a look such as his friend the sergeant might have carried into his first action.
"I was to say that Maw and Meggins disclaim all responsibility," continued the other. "They admit no liability at all, but in consideration of your son'south services, they wish to present y'all with a certain sum as compensation."
Mr. White dropped his wife'south hand, and rising to his feet, gazed with a look of horror at his visitor. His dry lips shaped the words, "How much?"
"Two hundred pounds," was the answer.
Unconscious of his married woman's shriek, the onetime man smiled faintly, put out his hands like a sightless human being, and dropped, a senseless heap, to the floor.
Role 3
In the huge new cemetery, some 2 miles distant, the old people buried their dead, and came back to the house steeped in shadows and silence. It was all over so apace that at commencement they could hardly realize information technology, and remained in a state of expectation as though of something else to happen - something else which was to lighten this load, besides heavy for erstwhile hearts to bear.
But the days passed, and expectations gave manner to resignation - the hopeless resignation of the old, sometimes mis-chosen apathy. Sometimes they hardly exchanged a word, for now they had nothing to talk about, and their days were long to weariness.
It was about a calendar week subsequently that the sometime homo, waking suddenly in the night, stretched out his manus and found himself alone. The room was in darkness, and the sound of subdued weeping came from the window. He raised himself in bed and listened.
"Come back," he said tenderly. "You will be common cold."
"It is colder for my son," said the old woman, and wept anew.
The sounds of her sobs died abroad on his ears. The bed was warm, and his eyes heavy with sleep. He dozed fitfully, and then slept until a sudden wild weep from his wife awoke him with a start.
"THE Manus!" she cried wildly. "THE MONKEY'S PAW!"
He started up in alarm. "Where? Where is it? What'south the thing?"
She came stumbling beyond the room toward him. "I want it," she said quietly. "You've not destroyed it?"
"Information technology's in the parlour, on the bracket," he replied, marveling. "Why?"
She cried and laughed together, and angle over, kissed his cheek.
"I only merely thought of information technology," she said hysterically. "Why didn't I recollect of it earlier? Why didn't yous think of it?"
"Think of what?" he questioned.
"The other two wishes," she replied rapidly. "We've but had ane."
"Was not that enough?" he demanded fiercely.
"No," she cried triumphantly; "We'll take ane more. Go down and get it quickly, and wish our boy alive again."
The man saturday in bed and flung the bedclothes from his quaking limbs."Skillful God, you lot are mad!" he cried aghast. "Get information technology," she panted; "get information technology quickly, and wish - Oh my boy, my male child!"
Her husband struck a match and lit the candle. "Get back to bed he said unsteadily. "You don't know what you are maxim."
"Nosotros had the starting time wish granted," said the old woman, feverishly; "why not the second?"
"A coincidence," stammered the old homo.
"Get go it and wish," cried his wife, quivering with excitement.
The old human turned and regarded her, and his vox shook. "He has been dead 10 days, and besides he - I would not tell yous else, but - I could only recognize him past his clothing. If he was too terrible for you to see then, how now?"
"Bring him back," cried the old woman, and dragged him towards the door. "Do you call up I fear the child I have nursed?"
He went downward in the darkness, and felt his way to the parlour, and then to the mantlepiece. The talisman was in its place, and a horrible fear that the unspoken wish might bring his mutilated son before him ere he could escape from the room seized up on him, and he caught his jiff as he found that he had lost the management of the door. His brow cold with sweat, he felt his fashion circular the table, and groped forth the wall until he establish himself in the minor passage with the unwholesome affair in his hand.
Even his wife's face seemed changed as he entered the room. It was white and expectant, and to his fears seemed to have an unnatural look upon it. He was afraid of her.
"WISH!" she cried in a potent phonation.
"It is foolish and wicked," he faltered.
"WISH!" repeated his wife.
He raised his paw. "I wish my son alive once more."
The talisman savage to the floor, and he regarded information technology fearfully. And then he sank trembling into a chair as the old woman, with burning eyes, walked to the window and raised the bullheaded.
He sat until he was chilled with the cold, glancing occasionally at the figure of the old woman peering through the window. The candle-cease, which had burned below the rim of the china candlestick, was throwing pulsating shadows on the ceiling and walls, until with a flicker larger than the rest, it expired. The former man, with an unspeakable sense of relief at the failure of the talisman, crept back back to his bed, and a minute afterward the old woman came silently and apathetically beside him.
Neither spoke, but sat silently listening to the ticking of the clock. A stair creaked, and a squeaky mouse scurried noisily through the wall. The darkness was oppressive, and later on lying for some fourth dimension screwing upwards his courage, he took the box of matches, and striking one, went downstairs for a candle.
At the foot of the stairs the friction match went out, and he paused to strike another; and at the same moment a knock came so quiet and stealthy every bit to be scarcely audible, sounded on the front door.
The matches savage from his mitt and spilled in the passage. He stood motionless, his breath suspended until the knock was repeated. Then he turned and fled swiftly back to his room, and closed the door behind him. A tertiary knock sounded through the house.
"WHAT'S THAT?" cried the old woman, starting upwardly.
"A rat," said the old human in shaking tones - "a rat. Information technology passed me on the stairs."
His wife sat up in bed listening. A loud knock resounded through the house.
"It'southward Herbert!"
She ran to the door, simply her married man was before her, and communicable her by the arm, held her tightly.
"What are you going to do?" he whispered hoarsely.
"Information technology'southward my male child; it's Herbert!" she cried, struggling mechanically. "I forgot it was ii miles away. What are you lot belongings me for? Let go. I must open up the door."
"For God'due south sake don't let it in," cried the old man, trembling.
"You're afraid of your own son," she cried struggling. "Allow me go. I'm coming, Herbert; I'm coming."
At that place was another knock, and another. The former woman with a sudden wrench broke complimentary and ran from the room. Her husband followed to the landing, and called after her appealingly as she hurried downstairs. He heard the chain rattle back and the bolt fatigued slowly and stiffly from the socket. Then the one-time adult female's vocalisation, strained and panting.
"The bolt," she cried loudly. "Come up down. I can't reach it."
But her hubby was on his hands and knees groping wildly on the floor in search of the paw. If only he could notice it before the thing outside got in. A perfect fusillade of knocks reverberated through the house, and he heard the scraping of a chair as his married woman put information technology downwards in the passage against the door. He heard the creaking of the commodities as information technology came slowly back, and at the same moment he found the monkey's paw, and frantically breathed his tertiary and last wish.
The knocking ceased suddenly, although the echoes of it were nevertheless in the house. He heard the chair fatigued back, and the door opened. A cold wind rushed upwardly the staircase, and a long loud wail of disappointment and misery from his married woman gave him the courage to run down to her side, and so to the gate beyond. The street lamp flickering contrary shone on a quiet and deserted route.
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Source: https://americanliterature.com/author/w-w-jacobs/short-story/the-monkeys-paw
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