Creepystory #9 The Monkey's Paw (W.W Jacobs)

 (Originally published in "The Lady of Barge"). All rights reserved W.W Jacobs, 1902.

The story begins with Mr. and Mrs. White and their adult son, Herbert. Sergeant-Major Morris, a friend who served with the British Army in India, comes by for dinner and introduces them to a mummified monkey's paw. An old fakir placed a spell on the paw, so that it would grant three wishes but only with hellish consequences as punishment for tampering with fate. Morris, having had a horrible experience using the paw, throws it into the fire. Mr. White, not believing Morris, retrieves it. Before leaving, Morris warns Mr. White of what might happen should he use the paw.

Mr. White hesitates at first, believing that he already has everything he wants. At Herbert's suggestion, Mr. White flippantly wishes for 200 euros, which will enable him to make the final mortgage payment for his house. When he makes his wish, Mr. White suddenly drips the paw in surprise, claiming that it moved and twisted like a snake. The next day, Herbert leaves for work at a local factory. That night, an employee arrives at the White's home, telling them that Herbert had been killed in a terrible machine accident that mutilated his body. The company denies any responsibility for the incident, but makes a goodwill payment to the family of the deceased. The payment is 200 euros, the amount Mr. White had wished for.

A week after the funeral, Mrs. White, mad with grief, insists that her husband use the paw to wish Herbert back to life. Reluctantly, he does so, despite great unease at the thought of summoning his son's mutilated and decomposing body. An hour or so later - the cemetery being two miles away - there is a knock at the door As Mrs. White fumbles at the locks in a desperate attempt to open the door, Mr. White becomes terrifies and fears 'the thing outside" is not the son he loved. He makes his third wish. The knocking stops suddenly and Mrs. White opens the door to find no one is there. 

-The End -

Creepystory #8 Never Bet the Devil Your Head (Edgar Allan Poe)

 (Originally published in "Graham's Magazine"). All rights reserved Edgar Allan Poe, 1841.

The narrator, presented as the author himself, is dimayed by literary critics saying that he has never written a moral tale. The narrator then begins telling the story of his friend Toby Dammit. Dammit is described as a man of many vices, at least in part due to his left-handed mother flogging him with her left hand, whis is considered improper. Dammit often made rhetorical bets, becoming fond of the expression "I'll bet the devil my head". Though the narrator tries to break Dammit of bad habits, he fails. Nevertheless, the two remain friends.

While travelling one day, the come across a covered bridge. It is gloomy and dark, lacking windows. Dammit, however, is unaffected by its gloom and is in an unusually good mood. As they cross the bridge, they are stopped by a turnstile partway across. Dammit bets the devil his head that he can leap over it. Before the narrator can reply, a cough alerts them to the presence of a little old man. The old man is interested in seeing if Dammit is capable of making such a leap and offers him a good running start. The narrator thinks to himself that it is improper for an old man to push Dammit into making the attempt - "I don't care who the devil he is", he adds.

The narrator watches as Dammit makes a perfect jump, though directly above the turnstile he falls backwards. The old man quickly grabs something and limps away. The narrator, upon checking on his friend, sees that Dammit's head is gone ("what might be termed a serious injury"). He realizes that there is a sharp iron bar above the turnstile that severed his friend's head. The narrator sends for the "homeopathists", who "did not give him little enough physic, and what little they did give him he hesitated to take. So in the end, he grew worse, and at length died." After the bill for his funeral expenses in left unpaid, the narrator has Dammit's body dug up and sold for dog meat.

-The End- 

Creepystory #7 The Landlady (Roald Dahl)

(Originally published in "The New Yorker"). All rights reserved Roald Dahl, 1959.

Billy Weaver is a seventeen-year-old youth who has travelled by train from London to Bath to start a new job. Looking for lodgings, he comes across a boarding-house and feels strangely compelled by its sign saying "Bed and Breakfast". Through the window, he notices a parrot in a cage and a sleeping dachshund on the floor. When he rings the doorbell, it is instantly answered by a middle-aged landlady. Billy discovers that her boarding-house is extremely cheap, and finds the woman somewhat eccentric and absent-minded, but very kind. When Billy signs her quest-book, he finds only two names, both dated more than two years ago: Christopher Mullholland and Gregory W. Temple - names which seem curiously familiar to Billy. The landlady invites Billy for some tea, and Billy tries to remember where he has previously heard the names in the guest-book. He seems to recall that Mullholland was an Eton schoolboy who disappearance was reported in the newspapers. The landlady assures Billy that her Mullholland was a Cambridge undergraduate, and that Mulholland and Temple are still staying upstairs in her boarding-house. She says that Billy is a handsome young man, as were the two other guests. Billy is surprised to find that the parrot and dachshund he had seen through the window are both stuffed. The landlady says that she stuffs all her pets when they die. Billy finds that his tea tastes faintly of bitter almonds. He asks the landlady whether she has had any other guests since the two men. The landlady replies, "No, my dear. Only you."

- The End -

Creepystory #6 The Cabin in the Woods (Reddit)

 (Originally taken from "reddit/shortscarystory"). Click here for original link.

There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After a what seemed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night. He approached, and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. the hunter flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning. As he looked around, he was surprised to see the walls adorned by many portraits, all features twisted into looks of hatred. Staring back, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Making concerted effort to ignore the many hateful faces, he turned to face the wall, and exhausted, he fell into a restless sleep.

Face down in unfamiliar bed, he turned blinking in unexpected sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had no portraits, only windows.

- The End - 

Creepystory #5 The Lottery (Shirley Jackson)

 

Details of contemporary small-town American life are embroidered upon a description of an annual rite known as "the lottery". In a small village of about 300 residents, the locals are in an excited yet nervous mood on June 27. Children gather stones, as the adult townsfolk assemble for their annual event, which in the local tradition is apparently practiced to ensure a good harvest (Old Man Warner quotes an old proverb? Lottery in June, corn be heavy soon"). However, some other villages have already discontinued the lottery, and rumor's are spreading that a village father north is considering doing likewise. 

The lottery preparations start the night before, with coal merchant Mr. Summers and postmaster Mr. Graves drawing up a list of all the extended families in town and preparing a set of paper slips, one per family. All are blank except one, later revealed to be marked with a black dot. The slips are folded and placed in a black wooden box, which in turn is stored in a safe at Mr. Summer's office until the lottery is scheduled to begin.

In the morning of the lottery, the townspeople gather shortly before 10 a.m in order to have everything done in time for lunch. First, the heads of the extended families each draw one slip from the box, but wait to unfold them until all the slips have been drawn. Bill Hutchinson gets the marked slip, meaning that his family has been chosen. His wife Tessie protests that Mr. Summers rushed him through the drawing, but the other townspeople dismiss her complaint. Since the Hutchinson family consists of only one household, a second drawing to choose one household within the family is skipped.

For the final drawing, one slip is place in the box for each member of the household: Bill, Tessie, and their three children. Each of the five draws a slip, and Tessie gets the marked one. The townspeople picked up the gathered stones and begin throwing them at her as she screams about the injustice of the lottery. 

-The End -

Creepystory #4 Human (Reddit)

(Originally taken from "reddit/shortscarystory"). Click here for original link.

I live in Osaka, Japan and often use the subway to go to work in the morning. One day, when I was waiting for the train, I noticed a homeless man standing in a corner of the subway station, muttering to himself as people passed by. He was holding out a cup and seemed to be begging for spare change. A fat woman passed by the homeless man and I distinctively heard him say, "Pig". Wow, I thought to myself. This homeless man is insulting people and he still expects them to give him money? Then, a tall businessman went by and the homeless guy muttered, "Human". Human? I can't argue with that. Obviously, he was human. The next day, I arrived early at the subway station and had some time to kill, so I decided to stand close to the homeless man and listen to his strange mutterings.

A thin, haggard-looking man passed in front of him and I heard the homeless guy mutter, "Cow". Cow? I thought. The man was much too skinny to be a cow. He looked more like a turkey or a chicken to me. A minute or so later, a fat man went by and the homeless man said, "Potato". Potato? I was under the impression that he called all fat people "Pig".

That day, at work, I couldn't stop thinking about the homeless man and his puzzling behavior. I keep trying to find some logic or pattern in what he was muttering. Perhaps he has some kind of psychic ability, I thought. Maybe he knows what these people were in a previous life. In Japan, many people believe in reincarnation. I observed the homeless man many times and began to think my theory was right. Afterall, I often heard him calling people things like "Rabbit" or "Onion" or "Sheep" or "Tomato".

One day, curiosity got the better of me and I decided to ask him what was going on. As I walked up to him, he looked at me and said "Bread". I tossed some money into his cup and asked him if he had some kind f psychic ability. The homeless man smiled and said, "Yes, indeed. I do have a psychic ability. It is an ability I obtained years ago. But it is not what you might've expect. I can't tell the future or read minds or anything like that. "Then, what is your ability?" I asked eagerly. "The ability is merely to know the last thing somebody ate." he said.

I laughed because I realized he was right. He said "Bread". The last thing I had eaten for breakfast that day was a toast. I walked away shaking my head. Of all the psychic abilities someone could have, that one must be the most useless.

-The End - 

Creepystory #3 Annoying Neighbor (Reddit)

 (Originally taken from "reddit/scaryshortstory"). Click here for original link. 

I used to live in a small building downtown. One of the reasons I moved out was the bad neighborhood, including this guy in the apartment right over mine. It was a weird looking fella who mostly kept to himself. Around midnight though, there was frequently a strange noise that got on my nerves. It wasn't loud, to be fair, but I have really light sleep so it was hard to get my eyes shut with those little bumping sounds going on and on. It reminded me of high heels walking about, but not as loud, as if the person causing the noise was actually trying to be silent. 

After a few days, I realize the pattern was always the same, like recording played over and over with random intervals in between. And that went on for the best part of a year, always the same sequence of bumps, slowly tattooed into my mind, sometimes for hours straight during the night.

It was only several years later, while helping my daughter with her homework - that I begin to learn a little bit of morse code. She knocked on the table with her knuckles and a shiver immediately went through my spine as I recognized the exact pattern. When I asked her what it meant, she laughed.

"It's the easiest one, daddy." she said. "It's the one to call for help.".

-The End -