The Lottery
by Shirley Jackson
The morning of June 27th was clear and sunny, with the fresh warmth of a
full-summer day; the flowers were blossoming profusely and the grass
was richly green. The people of the village began to gather in the
square, between the post office and the bank, around ten o'clock; in
some towns there were so many people that the lottery took two days and
had to be started on June 26th. but in this village, where there were
only about three hundred people, the whole lottery took less than two
hours, so it could begin at ten o'clock in the morning and still be
through in time to allow the villagers to get home for noon dinner.
The children assembled first, of course. School was recently over for
the summer, and the feeling of liberty sat uneasily on most of them;
they tended to gather together quietly for a while before they broke
into boisterous play, and their talk was still of the classroom and the
teacher, of books and reprimands. Bobby Martin had already stuffed his
pockets full of stones, and the other boys soon followed his example,
selecting the smoothest and roundest stones; Bobby and Harry Jones and
Dickie Delacroix-- the villagers pronounced this name
"Dellacroy"--eventually made a great pile of stones in one corner of the
square and guarded it against the raids of the other boys. The girls
stood aside, talking among themselves, looking over their shoulders at
the boys, and the very small children rolled in the dust or clung to the
hands of their older brothers or sisters.
Soon the men began to gather, surveying their own children, speaking of
planting and rain, tractors and taxes. They stood together, away from
the pile of stones in the corner, and their jokes were quiet and they
smiled rather than laughed. The women, wearing faded house dresses and
sweaters, came shortly after their menfolk. They greeted one another and
exchanged bits of gossip as they went to join their husbands. Soon the
women, standing by their husbands, began to call to their children, and
the children came reluctantly, having to be called four or five times.
Bobby Martin ducked under his mother's grasping hand and ran, laughing,
back to the pile of stones. His father spoke up sharply, and Bobby came
quickly and took his place between his father and his oldest brother.
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