The Lottery and Other Stories (FSG Classics)
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One of the most terrifying stories of the twentieth century, Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery” created a sensation when it was first published in 1948. Today it is considered a classic work of short fiction, a story remarkable for its combination of subtle suspense and pitch-perfect descriptions of both the chilling and the mundane. The Lottery and Other Stories also includes twenty-four other stories encompassing the hilarious and the horrible, the unsettling and the ominous.
information which in the city would have belonged properly to the superintendent, or the janitor, or the man from the gas company. When Mrs. Walpole’s glance fell on Lady’s water dish under the sink, and she realized that she was indescribably depressed, she got up and put on her jacket and a scarf over her head and went next door. Mrs. Nash, her next-door neighbor, was frying doughnuts, and she waved a fork at Mrs. Walpole at the open door and called, “Come in, can’t leave the stove.” Mrs.
think kindergarten is too unsettling for Laurie? All this toughness, and bad grammar, and this Charles boy sounds like such a bad influence.” “It’ll be all right,” my husband said reassuringly. “Bound to be people like Charles in the world. Might as well meet them now as later.” On Monday Laurie came home late, full of news. “Charles,” he shouted as he came up the hill; I was waiting anxiously on the front steps. “Charles,” Laurie yelled all the way up the hill, “Charles was bad again.” “Come
down off his chair and went around to his father. His father bent his head down and Laurie whispered joyfully. His father’s eyes widened. “Did Charles tell the little girl to say that?” he asked respectfully. “She said it twice,” Laurie said. “Charles told her to say it twice.” “What happened to Charles?” my husband asked. “Nothing,” Laurie said. “He was passing out the crayons.” Monday morning Charles abandoned the little girl and said the evil word himself three or four times, getting his
of Robbie and Daphne, sitting silently one on either side of Robbie’s desk, two heavy serious faces turned slightly to the partition, listening soberly to Elizabeth talking to her father’s old friend. She looked up the hotel number in the book, hearing Robbie say, “Tell her we’re all sincerely sorry, but that circumstances beyond my control, and so on. Make it as pleasant as possible. Remember to tell her we’ll consider her for the first new job we have here.” Elizabeth dialed the number,
wheeled in almost silently behind her. “We couldn’t stay in business at all,” he said. “All you’ve got to worry about is telling us all your secrets while you’re asleep. Want to watch out for that, you know. Lower molar?” he said to the nurse. “Lower molar, doctor,” she said. Then they put the metal-tasting rubber mask over her face and the dentist said, “You know,” two or three times absent-mindedly while she could still see him over the mask. The nurse said “Relax your hands, dear,” and after