The Monkey's Paw

Without, the night was cold and wet, but in the small parlor of Laburnam Villa the blinds were drawn and the fire burned brightly. Father, son, and wife sat by the fire quietly.

“Hark at the wind,” said Mr. White, who, having sensed the silence, started a conversation

“I’m listening,” said the latter, grimly surveying Mr. White.  “I should hardly think that he’d come tonight,” said his father, with his eyes staring thoughtfully at the burning fire.  

"Living so far out is such a pain," bawled Mr. White, with a sudden  severity; “of all the wretched,muddy, far- flung places to live in, this is the absolute worst.

"Calm down dear” whispered Mrs.White as she flashed a quick grin at her still smiling son.

Bang, bang. “There he is,” said Herbert White, as the gate shook 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 arrival also commiserated with himself, so that Mrs. White muttered, “Tsk, tsk!” and coughed gently as her husband entered the room, followed by a tall, brawny man, beady of eye and rubicund of visage.

 “Sergeant Major Morris,” said Mr.White, introducing him.

 The sergeant major shook hands, and taking the proffered seat by the fire, watched contentedly while his host got out tumblers and stood a small copper kettle on the fire.

At the third glass his eyes got brighter, and he began to talk, attracting the little family’s attention as he squared his broad shoulders in the chair and spoke of wild scenes and war.

“Twenty-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 look 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 old man, “just to look around a bit, you know.”

 “Better where you are,” said the sergeant major, shaking his head. He put down the empty glass, and sighing softly, shook it again.

Mrs. White eyed the sergeant curiously, “Not to be rude, but why exactly did you come here Sergeant?”

 “He wants to tell us about the monkey’s paw of course, don’t you sergeant?” replied Mr. White.

 Sergeant Morris had an alarmed look on his face “It’s nothing important that you should know of, really.”

 “Monkey’s paw?” said Mrs. White, curiously.  “It’s something that might be considered as magic, perhaps” said the sergeant, absentmindedly.  

The family looked at him expectantly.  The sergeant carefully took something out of his pocket and offered it. Mrs. White drew back with a look of disgust on her face, but her son, took it eagerly.

 “And what is so special about it?” said Mr. White as he examined it.

 “It had a spell on it put by an old fakir, he put it so that three separate men could each have three wishes from it.” replied the sergeant major, “He wanted to show that those who interfere with fate, will pay with sorrow.”

 “Why didn’t you have your three wishes then, sir?” said Herbert, cleverly.   

“I have, now i wish i never had my three wishes.” said sergeant Morris, his face turning white.

 “Were your three wishes granted?” said Mrs. White curiously.

 “They were.” said the sergeant, then an alarmed look took over his face as he saw the eager looks on the family’s faces. “This is something that should not have existed, you will not take it. It has caused enough mischief already. One shall not interfere with fate, or else they will pay with sorrow. Better let it burn.”

 “Wait!”screamed Mrs.White, “You said three men each could have three wishes, has anyone else wished but you?

 “Yes, the first man had his three wishes. I do not know what his first two were, but his third wish was for death” said the sergeant with an alarmed tone.

The family fell silent as the sergeant took one last look at them and threw the monkey’s paw into the red fireplace, a hostility seemed to spread across the room and quicken the anxiety of the White family. A chuckle was heard emanating from the far right end of the black sofa on which Herbert sat.

“Too bad, I probably should’ve wished for a younger sister to tease and spoil like I’ve always hoped for,”laughed Herbert.

  “Nothing good can come from something as vulgar as the “bewitched” dead remains of a poor defenseless animal” said Mrs.White correctively of her son  

 “ Hush all of you”, huffed Mr.White, “ no point in discussing the whereabouts of something no longer in our possession”.

  “ Your father is right dear, we best be heading up to bed at this late hour” uttered Mrs.White on her way upstairs, “ you coming dear?”.

  “ I’ll head upstairs in a few seconds mother,” smiled Herbert.

<b><i>II.</i></b>

<i></i> Seconds became minutes, minutes became hours, and Herbert was still motionless on the couch, gazing into the engulfing flames of the fireplace. It was baffling him how mesmerizing he found the fire looked. He was engulfed by a sense of curiosity and wonder. He unknowingly moved closer to it longing to feel the warmth of his skin. Herbert was still confused about the sudden urge to admire the flames, but he couldn’t stop himself; the urge had possessed his body. He wasn’t warm enough. He needed to be close to the fire like he needed his next breath. He crouched down, only a few inches separating him from the beautiful destructive blaze. His face was sweating too much, he could’ve sworn he felt it melting. He was intoxicated and bewitched by the heat. His hands acted on their own accord and ventured to touch the glowing flames.

He woke up from his trance then, but it was too late. The flames had a tight grip on his wrists. He wanted to scream, but his voice refused to emanate, choking him. The flames now looked like hands pulling him in. His eyes were wide with horror and fright. He struggled to wrench himself away, but it was useless. The fire seemed to pull him in the more fought. The last thing he saw before his horror-stricken eyes was a sinister face smiling at him between the flames. All that was left of Herbert now were incinerated cinders.

Mr. White woke up to his wife’s screams. He ran to her help and froze when he saw what was in front of him. Mrs. White was holding whatever remained of her son’s burnt dead body. Mr. White couldn’t move his limbs. He was in shock, and his body was shuddering. Next to him, his wife was wailing and sobbing, but he couldn’t do anything to comfort her. He fell to his knees and stared straight ahead. He couldn’t understand what happened or how it happened. His tears fell in a silent cry. He almost didn’t hear the the doorbell ring. His legs shook as they took him to the door. Behind the door, he found nothing, but, before he shut the door, something on the floor caught his eye. A little basket layed there in front of his feet. He took it and looked inside. Mrs. White ran to her husband when she heard him gasping. In between her sobs, she shakingly asked him what was wrong. She looked inside the basket and saw a baby girl curiously looking back at them. She took the little girl and held her close to her body. She took the little girl and held it close to her body. She looked back at Mr. White, and he understood the silent plea she told him with his eyes; she wanted to keep the baby. He nodded at her and looked back at his dead son. It was that moment everything clicked inside his mind. The paw, his son wishing for a younger sister, his son’s death, and the baby girl in his wife’s arm were all linked.