The monkeys paw The old delusional lady snatched the paw away from his grasp, mumbling excitedly to herself she held the paw tight and said fiercely ‘I wish my son alive again. ’ She frequently repeated it over and over until it became a jumbled chant; when suddenly a slow but insistent knock rang through the desolate house. Mrs White leapt up at the first sluggish rap, ‘My boy, my boy is finally here! ’ she cried repeatedly fixing her dishevelled hair combing her hands through the straggle and fixing an almost hysterical smile upon her withered face ‘Oh do come meet our boy darling, I forgot that the cemetery is two miles from here... and her chatter continued to herself, making imaginary plans, hauling on her best gloves and fur lined coat, she strode down the stairs with an air of excitement and bliss. Mr White stood at the space where his wife had been standing, and absent minded picked up the withered paw that had been discarded onto the floor, he gasped and remembered the face in the fire that he had seen on the night the major had been to visit him, the day that he had greedily wished for two hundred pounds; and unfortunately got it.
Coming back to his senses he rushed down the stairs after his wife to find her struggling with the large ebony bolt secrured firmly in place. ‘Help me with the bolt; it’s too heavy. ’ She said. Instead of helping the old woman, he tried tug her away from the vast bolt but she nudged me with such power that Mr White was hurled to the other side of the parler, causing him to knock his head on the mantle piece and observe his abberant wife throw open the door,turn pale with shock and recoil in disgust and trying to close the door on the hidious monster that was once their son but was thrown against the wall as the monster barged in.
The old man’s vision grew dark and he slipped away to unconsciousness. When Mr White awoke he sat up stiffly and stood up slowly, walking towards the now severed door, and bent down and picked up a delicate glove it was almost unidentifiable; he dropped the glove in disgust and walked over to what once was the parlour, Mr White sat down in his large mahogany chair and began to silently weep, clutching the wretched paw in his wrinkled hand and wished his third wish ‘I wish I was dead. ’ And with that he fell into a deep eternal sleep that someday we must all face.
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