The Monkey’s Paw – an interpretation

The small market town was curiously empty on this oddly stormy morning in May. As the clock tower opposite the pharmacy struck seven, nearly all the townsfolk turned sleepily and dreamily in their warm beds. The circus, camped in a muddy field on the town’s outer edge for the last seven days, had provided much welcome merriment to all the young, old, rich and poor of the town alike. The travelling company was under the instruction of their ringmaster to hastily pack away the last vestiges of their belongings in order to leave the murky backwater within the hour and head ever onwards on their journeying. As most slept on peacefully little did they know they would never see this band of artistes again or for that matter any others.

At this exact same time, three seemingly unremarkable characters were making their separate ways to the Pharmacy along the three narrow and rough streets that joined at the town’s centre. Edward Smithers wilfully strode along, struggling to keep his wide girth on an even trail whilst at the same time fixed on the fact that the pharmacist could provide something to relieve the persistent and raging headache he had now had for 7 days. Young Mary Scott welcomed the reprieve to be outside, even in such forceful elements, just to be away from the wretched tyranny of her employer’s house where she skivvied but was equally anxious about the errand she was about to undertake. Samuel Cartwright, currently the youngest surviving son of Charles and Charlotte Cartwright, just seven years old, hopped and skipped his way towards the shop with all the unfettered excitement of a child who has the hope of the world lain at his feet.

In an uncanny collision, all three arrived at the sturdy, paint peeled door of the Pharmacy at precisely the same instant . Momentarily oblivious of each other’s presence, the door swung open with a loud forceful creak and a clattering bang as the doorknocker hit the inner wall – aided, it seemed, by the wind - beckoning them in from the cold and wet.

Once inside it struck them all immediately that something was awry … Mr Caruthers, the usually jovial and talkative pharmacist was sitting moribund on the rickety visitor’s chair beside his counter, his eyes subdued and eerily glazed. Without uttering a single word he shakily pointed to the door leading to the room at the back of the shop – a room that he never allowed customers to enter.

Edward Smithers, already impatient with the irregularity of the situation and his headache raging all the more, bumbled towards the door and flung it open. Mary and Samuel followed behind in turn, Mary a little more hesitantly and nervous and Samuel with an uninhibited curiosity. The strange and unsettling sight that met them was enough to momentarily assuage all their individual concerns as it threw their thoughts further askew.

The small, damp, gas-lit room was otherwise empty except for a small wood table on the far side, which upon inspection they found held three sheets of rough parchment, an elaborately carved quill pen and a bottle of jet black ink. However, it was the other table placed along the nearside wall behind the door through which they’d entered that caused most alarm. Each recoiled in a mixture of horror and fascination on seeing the contents of the bell jar placed upon it … a clawed, withered and scabrous monkey’s paw. The appendage’s gnarled, browned claws appeared to scratch at the glass bottle top as though about to break free at any moment. Both Mary and Samuel screamed out in terror as Edward stepped hastily backwards in disgust.

The piercing cries masked the sudden appearance of a fourth presence in the room. It was not Mr Caruthers who, should anyone have been close enough by, could be heard faintly murmuring under his breath, his mutterings practically unintelligible “… think very carefully, think very carefully, don’t do it, consider all the possibilities …”. No, it was a different presence altogether, a striking character the likes of which not normally seen in this quiet town. An old man, and in Samuel’s eyes an ancient man, wearing an elaborate top hat and tails took up position in the very centre of the tiny room. Although his attire was somewhat torn and stained he made an imposing bearing as he asked the three alarmed customers to stand in line in front of him. I say he “asked” but it was more of a command than a request and delivered with such authority that not one of them hesitated at the alarming strangeness of the whole situation.

They stood in descending age order, Edward Smithers at twenty one years having recently celebrated his coming of age with a sumptuous party provided by his genteel parents; next Mary Scott her physical frailty and care-worn demeanour belying her fourteen years on this earth and lastly young Charles Cartwright still amused and thrilled by the turn of events and already anticipating the excitement of telling all his friends and anyone else who cared to listen all about this occurrence.

It was then and only then that the old man spoke … in a grave voice, so deep and resonant that it made the wick of the gas lamp flicker and cast dark wild shadows on the walls all around them.

“Having arrived at the pharmacy at the allotted seventh hour you are granted one wish each. You should stand before the monkey’s paw and carefully consider your fate in this world. Once and only once you are certain of your chosen wish take a step towards the table and in turn scribe out either your head or your heart’s greatest desire and it shall come true within the hour of your leaving the pharmacy. But be warned, not one of you should leave this room until each of you has completed the task.”

With that, a loud thud was heard from within the shop front as the murmurings of Mr Caruthers ceased. The lamplight flickered once more and as the room fell into darkness the monkey’s paw seemed to glow casting a fierce red glow over the three unsuspecting customers.

With their heads beginning to spin with wild thoughts of riches, fripperies and luxuries one by one they turned their glance back to the centre of the room. The only remnant of the old man’s presence was a faint sickly sweet smell that until then had gone unnoticed.