Part 1 of 3 scary stories
By W. W. Jacobs
format by Captivated Chat
Perfect weather for a visit from our friend from my old regiment, and to listen to his scary chat stories from India. Hear that wind!
I’m listening . . . Check!
I almost doubt that he’ll come tonight in this rain.
Mate.
That’s the worst of living so far out. Of all the beastly, slushy, out-of-the-way places to live. Pathway’s a bog, and the road’s a torrent. I suppose because only two houses in the road are rented, the council thinks it doesn’t matter.
Never mind, dear, perhaps you’ll win the next one.
There he is now. I hear heavyweight footsteps.
I should like you both to meet Sergeant-Major Morris.
Have a whiskey?
Taken much harm
(Ten minutes later, at a third glass, the visitor’s eyes brightened and he began to talk, and the family regarded with eager interest this visitor from distant parts. For he spoke of wild scenes and doughty deeds; of wars and plagues and strange peoples.)
Twenty-one years of it. Now look at him.
He don’t look to have taken much harm.
I’d like to go to India myself, just to look round a bit, you know.
Better where you are.
I should like to see those old temples and fakirs and jugglers. What was that you started telling me the other day about a monkey’s paw or something, Morris?
Nothing. Certainly nothing worth hearing.
Monkey’s paw? Another one of your scary chat stories?
Well, it’s just a bit of what you might call magic, perhaps.
Have one more.
Here it is. To look at, it’s just an ordinary little paw, dried to a mummy. Have a look.
A spell on it
Thanks! Vile-looking thing, this!
And what is there special about it? Let me see it, son.
It had a spell put on it by an old fakir. A very holy man. He wanted to show that fate ruled people’s lives, and that those who interfered did so to their sorrow. He put a spell on it so three men could each have three wishes from it.
Heh-heh-heh, Ah-hem.
Well, why don’t you have three wishes yourself, sir?
Because I have done, sad to say.
And did you really have the three wishes granted?
I did, uh, yes, in a way.
And has anybody else wished?
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.
Oh dearie, dearie me. Sad, that is, the poor man going mad!
Enough mischief
If you’ve had your three wishes, it’s no good to you now, then, Morris. What do you keep it for?
Fancy, I suppose, uh, I did have some idea of selling it, but I don’t think I will. It has caused enough mischief already.
Besides, people won’t buy. They think it’s just one of those scary stories for kids; some of them, and those who do think anything of it want to try it first and pay me afterward.
If you could have another three wishes, would you have them?
I don’t know, now. I don’t know…
Don’t blame me for what happens
It’s no good throwing it in the fire. Ouch, ouch, hot, but no real harm to it.
Better to let it burn.
If you don’t want it, Morris, give it to me.
I won’t. I threw it on the fire. If you keep it, don’t blame me for what happens. Pitch it on the fire again like a sensible man.
How do you do it?
Hold it up in your right hand and wish aloud, but I warn you of the consequences.
Sounds like the Arabian Nights, or one of the scary stories for kids you like me to tell. You and your scary stories! But it’s meal time. Don’t you think you might wish for four pairs of hands for me?
If you must wish
I guess I would wish for…
Hold up there, that man. If you must wish, wish for something sensible.
Dinner is ready in any case. Come and be seated, please.
(30 minutes later)
Well, thanks for visiting, and goodbye Sergeant-Major!
If the tale about the monkey’s paw is not more truthful than those he has been telling us, we sha’nt make much out of it.
Did you give him anything for it, father?
A trifle. He didn’t want it, but I made him take it. And he pressed me again to throw it away.
But wait!
Why, we’re going to be rich, and famous and happy. Wish to be an emperor, father, to begin with; then you can’t be henpecked.
Why you young upstart! I’ll have your guts for garters!
Put down that carving knife! A man’s entitled to have a little laugh.
Quiet! I must think of the wish. Look at it now and help me think upon it proper. I don’t know what to wish for, and that’s a fact. I’ve got all I want.
If you only cleared the house, you’d be quite happy, wouldn’t you?
Certainly.
Well, wish for two hundred pounds, then; that’ll just do it.
I wish for two hundred pounds.
Eww-ugh!
What is wrong?
It moved! As I wished, it twisted in my Nohand like a snake.
You dropped it!
Well, I don’t see the money, and I bet I never shall.”
It might have been your fancy, father.
Unh-uh, but never mind; there’s no harm done. But it gave me a shock all the same.
I expect you’ll find the cash tied up in a big bag in the middle of your bed. And something right out of those scary stories for kids squatting on top of the wardrobe watching you as you pocket your ill-gotten gains.