a short horror story

I am currently re-watching the entire season of Bakemonogatari in some insane frame of mind thinking that I may have missed something important. And since there's no one in my apartment right now, except me (i think), the internet has been very very fast, and very very complying.

So im watching this intriguing series until I reach episode 6, which is about a young girl whose arm is possessed by a monkey's paw, or at least they think it is. Whatever the plot of this episode is, it does not matter. One of the characters mentions that it is actually a fabled talisman from a short story by William Wymark Jacobs, appropriately titled "The Monkey's Paw.

It is a horror story. One that sent a chill down my spine. Just one chill. But i'll be damned - it's been quite a while since i'd been so momentarily petrified.

I will provide a summary, but I must say, the ORIGINAL, is a much better read.

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The story involves the White family, consisting of Mr and Mrs White, and their grown up son, Herbert.

They are a well-off family, nothing much to want for. Just a regular family with a regular life. They pay their bills, and they eat until they are full.

But one day they are visited by an old friend of Mr White's. Sergeant Major Morris - a returned soldier from India. And as the whiskey flowed and the tales began to pour from his lips, he mentions how he came into possession of a strange talisman.

A Monkey's Paw - dried and preserved to a mummified state. It had a spell put on it by an old fakir, an indian holy man, who wanted to show that fate ruled people's lives and that those who seek to change fate at their whim, do so to their own sorrow.

The family presses him for more.

"Well why don't you have three wishes, sir?" said Herbert.

Morris turns pale as he utters, "I have."

"And did they..." Herbert asks again, "... did you get what you wished for?"

Morris chokes as he nods, "I did."

The old wife is quick to ask the next question, "Has anyone else had three wishes?"

Morris nods, "The first man had his three wishes, yes. I don't know what the first two were..."

"... but the third was for his death."

And there was silence around the table.

Morris casually flicks the monkey's paw into the fireplace. And just as it begins to fizzle, Mr White snatches it up. He wants to keep it. Morris will not let him. But Mr White insists.

"At the very least," Mr Morris finally warns as he begins to leave, "Wish for something sensible."

He leaves.

Herbert doesnt believe that the paw will work. Neither does the wife. Mr White is adamant, and, on suggestion from his son, wishes for something simple - 200 hundred pounds.

The very next day, Herbert leaves for work. But he doesnt come back. Instead, a company man is sent to the White's to inform them of their son's death - he had been caught in the machinery at the factory, mangled and mutilated and died, with no way to save him.

The mother collapses in a fit of tears. The company man offers his condolences, and the condolences of the company, in the figure of compensation.

"How much?" asks the horrified father.

"Two hundred pounds, sir."

The mother begins to scream hysterically.

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Months later, eventhough the funeral had ended, and visitors had left, and the condolence letters had stopped, the mourning in the couples' hearts hadn't.

The mother had stopped talking to the father. And they treated each other with coldness, as if what sense of warmth, died with their son.

And now it has reached a breaking point.

The mother snaps one night, laughing hysterically.

"The Monkey's Paw!" she screams, "You still have it!?"

"Yes," the husband acknowledges.

In a fit of madness and despite the pleas from her husband, the wife asks for the unthinkable - to wish their son alive again.

Her husband is distraught with fear and grieve, but his wife wouldnt stop, and pressed him, with increasing madness until he gave in. Holding the shriveled paw in his hand, he wished out loud that his son be alive again.

But no one came, no matter how long they waited.

But at the stroke of midnight, a faint knock is heard on the front door. Jumping from his sleep, the husband begins to tremble in fear and horror - his son has returned. The wife, beside herself with hysterical euphoria, belts from the bed and rushes to the door, screaming and howling in joy.

"I forgot!" she cried, "The cemetery is almost 2 miles from here!"

The reality of it dawned on the husband - he couldnt let his son in, as his appearance would be too horrifying to behold. He had been mangled in the machinery. He was the one who had identified the body. And god forbid he would have to do it again. Whatever was standing there on his front porch - it couldnt be his son. Not like that.

As his wife struggled with the front door lock, he struggled in the darkness, fighting to find the monkey's paw. And as she finally slide the latch open, his hand found the paw, and with it, he wished, for his son to be dead again.

The wife throws open the door and screams in distress. The husband finally bolts down the stairs to the front door. There is no one, nothing, at the front door, save the creeping patter of night drizzle and a swinging latern from the main gate.

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Good night.