Are you SUPERSTITIOUS?

Outside, the night was cold and wet , but inside the house the fire burned brightly . Father and son played chess, while the mother knitted contentedly. “I don’t think he will come tonight,” said Mr. White. “We live too far out and the weather is awful.” But then the gate opened and heavy footsteps came toward the door.

Mr. White opened the door and greeted a tall man with a reddish face. He introduced Sergeant-Major Morris to his family. They listened eagerly as this visitor from distant parts spoke of wild scenes and brave deeds, of wars and diseases and strange peoples.

“Twenty-one years of it,” said Mr. White to his wife and son. “When he went away, he was a young man. Now look at him. I’d like to go to India myself.”

“Better where you are,” said the sergeant-major. “I should like to see those old temples and holy men”

said the old man. “What was that you told me yesterday about a monkey’s paw?”

“Nothing,” said the soldier quickly. “Monkey’s paw?” said Mrs. White.“Well, it’s just a bit of what you might call magic,

perhaps,” said the sergeant-major. His three listeners leaned forward eagerly.

“To look at,” said the sergeant-major, “it’s just an ordinary little paw, dried to a mummy.” He took something out of his pocket and held it out. Mrs. White drew back with a grimace.

“And what is special about it?” asked Mr. White.“An old holy man put a spell on it,” said the sergeant-

major. “He wanted to show that fate ruled people’s lives. Those who interfered with fate and tried to change what would happen did so to their sorrow. He put a spell on it so that three men could each have three wishes from it.”

His manner was so serious that the listeners thought their light laughter seemed out of place.

“Well, why don’t you make three wishes, sir?” said young Herbert cleverly.

“I have,” Morris said quietly, and his reddish face turned white.

“And did you really have the three wishes granted?” asked Mrs. White.

“I did,” said the sergeant-major.“And has anybody else wished?” the old lady asked.“The first man had his three wishes, yes. I don’t know

what the first two were, but the third was for death. That’s how I got the paw.” He sounded so grave1 that for a few moments, no one spoke.

“If you’ve had your three wishes, then it’s no good to you now, Morris,” said the old man at last. “What do you keep it for?”

“Just because I want to, I suppose,” he said. “I did think of selling it, but I don’t think I will. It has caused enough trouble already. Besides, people won’t buy it. Some think the story of the wishes is a fairy tale. Those who think it might be real want to try it first and pay me afterward.”

“Would you make three more wishes if you could?” asked the old man.

“I don’t know,” said the other. “I don’t know.”He picked up the paw and then suddenly threw it upon

the fire. Mr. White bent down and snatched it off.“Better let it burn,” said the soldier solemnly.“If you don’t want it, Morris,” said the other, “give it

to me.”“I won’t,” said his friend. “I threw it on the fire. If you

keep it, don’t blame me for what happens. Throw it back on the fire again like a sensible man.”

Mr. White shook his head. “How do you make the wishes?” he asked.

“Hold it up in your right hand and wish aloud,” said the sergeant-major, “but I warn you of the consequences.”

Mr. White pulled the paw out of his pocket. All three of the Whites burst into laughter as the sergeant-major, with a look of alarm on his face, caught him by the arm.

“If you must wish,” he said, “wish for something sensible.” Mr. White put the paw back in his pocket.

Later, after their guest had gone, Herbert said, “If the tale about the monkey’s paw is no more true than the other stories he told us, we won’t get much out of it.”

Mr. White took the paw from his pocket and eyed it doubtfully. “I don’t know what to wish for, and that’s a fact,” he said. “It seems to me I’ve got all I want.”

“If you could pay off what we owe on the house, you’d be quite happy, wouldn’t you?” said Herbert. “Well, wish for two hundred pounds2 to do it.”

His father, smiling and embarrassed at his own credulity, held up the paw. Herbert winked at his mother.

“I wish for two hundred pounds,” said the old man.Then he gave a horrified cry. “It moved,” he cried. “As I

made the wish, it twisted in my hand like a snake.” “Well, I don’t see the money,” said his son, “and I bet I

never shall.”“It must have been your imagination, father,” said his

wife, looking at him anxiously.He shook his head. “Never mind, though; there’s no

harm done, but it gave me a shock all the same.”They sat down by the fire again. Outside, the wind was

louder than ever, and the old man jumped at the sound of a door banging upstairs. A silence that was both unusual and depressing settled upon all three, and it lasted until the old couple went to bed.

“I expect you’ll find the cash in a big bag in the middle of your bed,” said Herbert, as he wished them good-night.

Herbert sat alone in the darkness, gazing at the dying fire and seeing faces in it. The last face was so horrible and so like a monkey’s it amazed him. It seemed so real that, with an uneasy little laugh, he reached for a glass of water from the table to throw on it. Instead, his hand grasped the monkey’s paw. With a little shiver he wiped his hand on his coat and went up to bed.

The next morning the sunlight streamed into the same room Herbert had sat in last night. He laughed at his fears. The room now looked ordinary. The dirty, shriveled little paw had been thrown aside carelessly, as if no one took it seriously.

“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?” said Mrs. White.

“Might drop on his head from the sky,” Herbert joked. “Well, don’t start spending the money before I come back from work.” His mother laughed. She watched him leave and go down the road.

“Herbert will make more jokes about this when he comes home,” she said as they sat down to dinner.

“I dare say,” said Mr. White, “but the paw moved in my hand; that I’ll swear to.”

“You thought it did,” said the old lady soothingly.

“I say it did,” replied the other. “What’s the matter?”His wife did not answer. She was watching a well-

dressed man outside who was trying to make up his mind to enter their gate. He paused three times. Finally, he came through the gate and knocked at the door. She brought the stranger, who seemed ill at ease, into the room. He was strangely silent at first.

“I—was asked to call,” he said at last. “I come from Maw and Meggins.”

“Is anything the matter?” Mrs. White asked breathlessly. “Has anything happened to Herbert? What is it? What is it?”

“You’ve not brought bad news, I’m sure, sir,” said Mr. White.

“I’m sorry—” began the visitor.“Is he hurt?” demanded the mother wildly.The visitor nodded. “Badly hurt,” he said quietly, “but

he is not in any pain.”“Oh!” said the old woman. “Thank goodness for that!

Thank—” She broke off suddenly as the terrible meaning of what he had said dawned upon her. She saw the awful truth as the man looked away from her. She laid her trembling old hand upon her husband’s.

“He was caught in the machinery,” said the visitor finally, in a low voice.

“Caught in the machinery,” repeated Mr. White, in a dazed fashion, “yes.” He sat staring blankly out the window, pressing his wife’s hand between his own.

“He was the only child we had left,” he said. “It is hard.” The man said, “The company wished me to convey their

sincere sympathy for your loss. I beg you to understand I am only obeying their orders.”

Mr. and Mrs. White were silent. They were in shock.“Maw and Meggins will take no responsibility for the

accident,” continued the other. “But they wish to present you with a certain sum as compensation.”

Mr. White gazed in horror at his visitor. He asked, “How much?”

“Two hundred pounds,” was the answer. He did not hear his wife’s shriek. Mr. White had fainted.

They buried their dead son two miles away in the cemetery and returned to a dark, silent house. As the days passed, they hardly spoke, for now they had nothing to talk about. Their days were long to weariness.

About a week after, the old man was woken by a sudden cry from his wife. “The paw! ” she cried wildly. “The monkey’s paw!”

He started up in alarm. “What’s the matter?”“I want it,” she said quietly. “You didn’t destroy it?” “It’s downstairs,” he replied, amazed. “Why?”She cried and laughed at the same time. “Why didn’t

we think of it before? The other two wishes,” she replied. “We’ve only used one.”

“Was one not enough?” he demanded fiercely.“No,” she cried triumphantly; “we’ll have one more. Go

down and get it quickly, and wish our boy alive again.”“You are crazy!” he cried. “Get it quickly, and wish—Oh, my boy, my boy! We

had the first wish granted. Why not the second?”“It happened by chance,” stammered the old man.

“Go and get it and wish,” cried his wife.The paw was in its place downstairs. He felt a horrible

fear that the unspoken wish might make his mutilated3 son appear before him. He returned to his wife with the unwholesome4 thing in his hand. His wife’s face looked different—white and hopeful. She looked unnatural. He was afraid of her.

“Wish! ” she cried.“It is foolish and wicked,” he said.“Wish! ” repeated his wife.He raised his hand. “I wish my son alive again.” The

paw fell to the floor, and he sank trembling into a chair. Mrs. White looked out the window.

They waited. The candle had burned almost all the way down. It threw moving shadows on the ceiling and walls, until it suddenly went out. The old man was deeply relieved at the failure of the monkey’s paw. He and his wife went back to bed.

They lay silently listening to the ticking of the clock. A stair creaked, and a squeaking mouse scurried noisily behind the wall. Mr. White finally lit a match and went downstairs for another candle.

At the foot of the stairs the match went out, and he paused to strike another; at the same moment he heard a low, soft knock at the front door.

He stood motionless, holding his breath until the knock was repeated. Then he ran back to the bedroom and closed the door. A third knock sounded through the house. “What’s that?” cried the old woman.

Another loud knock echoed through the house. “It’s Herbert!” she screamed. “It’s Herbert!”

She ran to the door, but her husband got there first. Catching her by the arm, he held her tightly. “What are you going to do?” he whispered. “It’s my boy; it’s Herbert!” she cried, struggling in his arms. “I forgot the cemetery is two miles away. Let go. I must open the door.”

“Don’t let it in,” cried the old man, trembling.“You’re afraid of your own son,” she cried, struggling.

“Let me go. I’m coming, Herbert.” The old woman suddenly broke free and ran from the room.

He heard her trying to open the lock on the door downstairs. “The lock,” she cried loudly. “Come down. I can’t reach it.”

But her husband was searching wildly on the floor for the paw. If he could only find it before the thing outside got in. He heard more knocking. He heard his wife climb on a chair to reach the lock. He heard its creak as she pulled it back. At the same moment he found the monkey’s paw and frantically breathed his third and last wish.

The knocking suddenly stopped. He heard her open the door. A cold wind rushed up the staircase, and a long loud wail of disappointment and misery from his wife made him run out to the gate. The streetlamp across from their house shone on a quiet and deserted road.

Are you SUPERSTITIOUS?