The windows shuddered, the chimney howled, and rain crashed upon Mr. and Mrs. White’s roof as they sat fireside with their son, Herbert. They were expecting someone... When a knock finally sounded at the door, Mr. White rose and welcomed his old friend, Sergeant-Major Morris.
Time flew as the sergeant regaled the family with epic tales from faraway lands— until Mr. White asked about an artifact the sergeant had alluded to. Slowly, the sergeant produced the object from his pocket: a mummified monkey’s paw. He explained that, in order to teach the consequences of meddling with fate, a holy man had imbued the paw with the power to grant three wishes to three men.
The sergeant said he’d obtained the paw after the first man made his final wish for death. When Herbert asked why he hadn’t used his wishes, the sergeant tensed and replied simply that he had. Suddenly, he flung the paw into the fire, but Mr. White yelped and plucked it out of the flames. And despite the sergeant’s warnings, Mr. White persuaded him to part with the paw.
After their guest had gone, Herbert playfully suggested that his father wish for the rest of their home’s mortgage money. Mr. White chuckled and wished for £200. But just as the utterance left his lips, he screamed out in terror. The paw had curled in his grasp. The Whites soon bid each other good night. But as Mr. White sat staring into the dying flames that flickered in the fireplace, they morphed into blazing faces before him. He reached for a water glass to extinguish the apparition, but as he did, the monkey’s paw grazed his hand ever so slightly.
The morning's light soothed the night's disquiet, and the family joked with one another about the paw’s magical powers. Herbert left for work, and Mr. and Mrs. White passed their day as usual. But as evening loomed, Mrs. White noticed a man at their gate, who appeared to be deliberating whether to enter. She ushered him in and he broke the news: Herbert had died, caught in the factory machinery. To the Whites’ horror. the company would reward them compensation, the man went on, in the form of £200.
They buried Herbert at a cemetery down the road, and over the following days, the cold, heavy grief of their loss settled upon the home. One night, as Mr. White tried to comfort his weeping wife, she bolted up, possessed by an idea. They still had the monkey’s paw— and Mr. White had two remaining wishes. He could will their son back to life.
Yet the thought of the monkey's paw and Herbert's mangled body, reanimated after 10 days buried, petrified Mr. White. Mrs. White, however, was insistent. She hurried him downstairs to find the paw. And, moved by his wife’s desperation, Mr. White clutched it and wished for Herbert to be alive again, then let the monkey’s paw fall to the floor.
At first nothing happened, and Mr. White felt a sneaking sense of relief. His suspicions that the paw was just an inanimate token and the death of his beloved son a sick coincidence were affirmed. But as he lit a candle, a gust of wind extinguished the flame. A moment later, Mr. White heard a tap at the door. Gradually, it crescendoed into a booming knock. He tried to restrain her, but Mrs. White rushed to the door. Her shaking hands struggled with its stubborn bolt, and she begged her husband for help. Mr. White, however, was scrambling on the floor in frenzied horror, hands outstretched, searching for the monkey’s paw.
The knocks quickened and crashed at the door. And with a final force, Mrs. White shrieked and wrenched the bolt free as Mr. White managed to seize the paw and choke out his third and final wish. The door opened to reveal their empty, lamplit street, and a frigid draft of air rushed into the house...
Thus concludes W.W. Jacobs’ 1902 short story, “The Monkey’s Paw.”
