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 20th, 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.The
lottery was conducted—as were the square dances, the teen club, the Halloween
program—by Mr. Summers, who had time and energy to devote to civic activities.
He was a round-faced, jovial man and he ran the coal business, and people were
sorry for him because he had no children and his wife was a scold. When he
arrived in the square, carrying the black wooden box, there was a murmur of
conversation among the villagers, and he waved and called. “Little late today,
folks. ” The postmaster, Mr. Graves, followed him, carrying a three-legged
stool, and the stool was put in the center of the square and Mr. Summers set
the black box down on it. The villagers kept their distance, leaving a space
between themselves and the stool, and when Mr. Summers said, “Some of you
fellows want to give me a hand?” there was a hesitation before two men. Mr.
Martin and his oldest son, Baxter, came forward to hold the box steady on the
stool while Mr. Summers stirred up the papers inside it.The original
paraphernalia for the lottery had been lost long ago, and the black box now
resting on the stool had been put into use even before Old Man Warner, the
oldest man in town, was born. Mr. Summers spoke frequently to the villagers
about making a new box, but no one liked to upset even as much tradition as was
represented by the black box. There was a story that the present box had been
made with some pieces of the box that had preceded it, the one that had been
constructed when the first people settled down to make a village here. Every
year, after the lottery, Mr. Summers began talking again about a new box, but
every year the subject was allowed to fade off without anything’s being done.
The black box grew shabbier each year: by now it was no longer completely black
but splintered badly along one side to show the original wood color, and in
some places faded or stained.Mr. Martin and his oldest son, Baxter, held the
black box securely on the stool until Mr. Summers had stirred the papers
thoroughly with his hand. Because so much of the ritual had been forgotten or
discarded, Mr. Summers had been successful in having slips of paper substituted
for the chips of wood that had been used for generations. Chips of wood, Mr.
Summers had argued, had been all very well when the village was tiny, but now
that the population was more than three hundred and likely to keep on growing,
it was necessary to use something that would fit more easily into he black box.
The night before the lottery, Mr. Summers and Mr. Graves made up the slips of
paper and put them in the box, and it was then taken to the safe of Mr.
Summers’ coal company and locked up until Mr. Summers was ready to take it to
the square next morning. The rest of the year, the box was put way, sometimes
one place, sometimes
another; it had spent
one year in Mr. Graves’s barn and another year underfoot in the post office.
and sometimes it was set on a shelf in the Martin grocery and left there.There
was a great deal of fussing to be done before Mr. Summers declared the lottery
open. There were the lists to make up–of heads of families, heads of households
in each family, members of each household in each family. There was the proper
swearing-in of Mr. Summers by the postmaster, as the official of the lottery;
at one time, some people remembered, there had been a recital of some sort,
performed by the official of the lottery, a perfunctory, tuneless chant that
had been rattled off duly each year; some people believed that the official of
the lottery used to stand just so when he said or sang it, others believed that
he was supposed to walk among the people, but years and years ago this p3rt of
the ritual had been allowed to lapse. There had been, also, a ritual salute,
which the official of the lottery had had to use in addressing each person who
came up to draw from the box, but this also had changed with time, until now it
was felt necessary only for the official to speak to each person approaching.
Mr. Summers was very good at all this; in his clean white shirt and blue jeans,
with one hand resting carelessly on the black box, he seemed very proper and
important as he talked interminably to Mr. Graves and the Martins.Just as Mr.
Summers finally left off talking and turned to the assembled villagers, Mrs.
Hutchinson came hurriedly along the path to the square, her sweater thrown over
her shoulders, and slid into place in the back of the crowd. “Clean forgot what
day it was,” she said to Mrs. Delacroix, who stood next to her, and they both
laughed softly. “Thought my old man was out back stacking wood,” Mrs.
Hutchinson went on, “and then I looked out the window and the kids was gone,
and then I remembered it was the twenty-seventh and came a-running. ” She dried
her hands on her apron, and Mrs. Delacroix said, “You’re in time, though.
They’re still talking away up there. “Mrs. Hutchinson craned her neck to see
through the crowd and found her husband and children standing near the front.
She tapped Mrs. Delacroix on the arm as a farewell and began to make her way
through the crowd. The people separated good-humoredly to let her through: two
or three people said, in voices just loud enough to be heard across the crowd,
“Here comes your, Missus, Hutchinson,” and “Bill, she made it after all. ” Mrs.
Hutchinson reached her husband, and Mr. Summers, who had been waiting, said
cheerfully. “Thought we were going to have to get on without you, Tessie. ”
Mrs. Hutchinson said, grinning, “Wouldn’t have me leave m’dishes in the sink,
now, would you, Joe?” and soft laughter ran through the crowd as the people
stirred back into position after Mrs. Hutchinson’s arrival.“Well, now. ” Mr.
Summers said soberly, “guess we better get started, get this over with, so’s we
can go back to work. Anybody ain’t here?”“Dunbar. ” several people said.
“Dunbar. Dunbar. “Mr. Summers consulted his list. “Clyde Dunbar. ” he said.
“That’s right. He’s broke his leg, hasn’t he? Who’s drawing for him?”“Me. I
guess,” a woman said, and Mr. Summers turned to look at her. “Wife draws for
her husband. ” Mr. Summers said. “Don’t you have a grown boy to do it for you,
Janey?” Although Mr. Summers and everyone else in the village knew the answer
perfectly well, it was the business of the official of the lottery to ask such
questions formally. Mr. Summers waited with an expression of polite interest
while Mrs. Dunbar answered.“Horace’s not but sixteen yet. ” Mrs. Dunbar said
regretfully. “Guess I gotta fill in for the old man this year. ““Right. ” Sr.
Summers said. He made a note on the list he was holding. Then he asked, “Watson
boy drawing this year?”A tall boy in the crowd raised his hand. “Here,” he
said. “I m drawing for my mother and me. ” He blinked his eyes nervously and
ducked his head as several voices in the crowd said things like “Good fellow,
lack. ” and “Glad to see your mother’s got a man to do it. ““Well,” Mr. Summers
said, “guess that’s everyone. Old Man Warner make it?”
“Here,” a voice said,
and Mr. Summers nodded.A sudden hush fell on the crowd as Mr. Summers cleared
his throat and looked at the list. “All ready?” he called. “Now, I’ll read the
names–heads of families first–and the men come up and take a paper out of the
box. Keep the paper folded in your hand without looking at it until everyone
has had a turn. Everything clear?”The people had done it so many times that
they only half listened to the directions: most of them were quiet, wetting
their lips, not looking around. Then Mr. Summers raised one hand high and said,
“Adams. ” A man disengaged himself from the crowd and came forward. “Hi. Steve.
” Mr. Summers said, and Mr. Adams said. “Hi. Joe. ” They grinned at one another
humorlessly and nervously. Then Mr. Adams reached into the black box and took
out a folded paper. He held it firmly by one corner as he turned and went
hastily back to his place in the crowd, where he stood a little apart from his
family, not looking down at his hand.“Allen. ” Mr. Summers said. “Anderson...
Bentham. ““Seems like there’s no time at all between lotteries any more. ” Mrs.
Delacroix said to Mrs. Graves in the back row.“Seems like we got through with
the last one only last week. ““Time sure goes fast” Mrs. Graves said.“Clark...
Delacroix. ““There goes my old man. ” Mrs. Delacroix said. She held her breath
while her husband went forward.“Dunbar,” Mr. Summers said, and Mrs. Dunbar went
steadily to the box while one of the women said. “Go on, Janey,” and another
said, “There she goes. ““We’re next. ” Mrs. Graves said. She watched while Mr.
Graves came around from the side of the box, greeted Mr. Summers gravely and
selected a slip of paper from the box. By now, all through the crowd there were
men holding the small folded papers in their large hand, turning them over and
over nervously Mrs. Dunbar and her two sons stood together, Mrs. Dunbar holding
the slip of paper.“Harburt... Hutchinson. ““Get up there, Bill,” Mrs.
Hutchinson said, and the people near her laughed.“Jones. ““They do say,” Mr.
Adams said to Old Man Warner, who stood next to him, “that over in the north
village they’re talking of giving up the lottery. “Old Man Warner snorted.
“Pack of crazy fools,” he said. “Listening to the young folks, nothing’s good
enough for them. Next thing you know, they’ll be wanting to go back to living
in caves, nobody work any more, live hat way for a while. Used to be a saying
about Lottery in June, corn be heavy soon. ‘ First thing you know, we’d all be
eating stewed chickweed and acorns. There’s always been a lottery,” he added
petulantly. “Bad enough to see young Joe Summers up there joking with
everybody. ““Some places have already quit lotteries,” Mrs. Adams said.“Nothing
but trouble in that,” Old Man Warner said stoutly. “Pack of young fools.
““Martin. ” And Bobby Martin watched his father go forward. “Overdyke... Percy.
“
“I wish they’d hurry,”
Mrs. Dunbar said to her older son. “I wish they’d hurry.”“They’re almost
through,” her son said.“You get ready to run tell Dad,” Mrs. Dunbar said.Mr.
Summers called his own name and then stepped forward precisely and selected a
slip from the box. Then he called, “Warner. ““Seventy-seventh year I been in
the lottery,” Old Man Warner said as he went through the crowd.
“Seventy-seventh time. ““Watson. ” The tall boy came awkwardly through the
crowd. Someone said, “Don’t be nervous, Jack,” and Mr. Summers said, “Take your
time, son. ““Zanini. “After that, there was a long pause, a breathless pause,
until Mr. Summers, holding his slip of paper in the air, said, “All right,
fellows. ” For a minute, no one moved, and then all the slips of paper were
opened. Suddenly, all the women began to speak at once, saving. “Who is it?,”
“Who’s got it?,” “Is it the Dunbars?,” “Is it the Watsons?” Then the voices
began to say, “It’s Hutchinson. It’s Bill,” “Bill Hutchinson’s got it. ““Go
tell your father,” Mrs. Dunbar said to her older son.People began to look
around to see the Hutchinsons. Bill Hutchinson was standing quiet, staring down
at the paper in his hand. Suddenly, Tessie Hutchinson shouted to Mr. Summers.
“You didn’t give him time enough to take any paper he wanted. I saw you. It
wasn’t fair!”“Be a good sport, Tessie,” Mrs. Delacroix called, and Mrs. Graves
said, “All of us took the same chance. ““Shut up, Tessie,” Bill Hutchinson
said.“Well, everyone,” Mr. Summers said, “that was done pretty fast, and now
we’ve got to be hurrying a little more to get done in time. ” He consulted his
next list. “Bill,” he said, “you draw for the Hutchinson family. You got any
other households in the Hutchinsons?”“There’s Don and Eva,” Mrs. Hutchinson
yelled. “Make them take their chance!”“Daughters draw with their husbands’
families, Tessie,” Mr. Summers said gently. “You know that as well as anyone
else. ““It wasn’t fair,” Tessie said.“I guess not, Joe,” Bill Hutchinson said
regretfully. “My daughter draws with her husband’s family; that’s only fair.
And I’ve got no other family except the kids. ““Then, as far as drawing for families
is concerned, it’s you,” Mr. Summers said in explanation, “and as far as
drawing for households is concerned, that’s you, too. Right?”“Right,” Bill
Hutchinson said.“How many kids, Bill?” Mr. Summers asked formally.“Three,” Bill
Hutchinson said.“There’s Bill, Jr. , and Nancy, and little Dave. And Tessie and
me. ““I wish they’d hurry,” Mrs. Dunbar said to her older son. “I wish they’d
hurry.”“They’re almost through,” her son said.“You get ready to run tell Dad,”
Mrs. Dunbar said.Mr. Summers called his own name and then stepped forward
precisely and selected a slip from the box. Then he called, “Warner.
““Seventy-seventh year I been in the lottery,” Old Man Warner said as he went
through the crowd. “Seventy-seventh time. ““Watson. ” The tall boy came awkwardly
through the crowd. Someone said, “Don’t be nervous, Jack,” and Mr. Summers
said, “Take your time, son. ““Zanini. “After that, there was a long pause, a
breathless pause, until Mr. Summers, holding his slip of paper in the air,
said, “All right, fellows. ” For a minute, no one moved, and then all the slips
of paper were opened. Suddenly, all the women began to speak at once, saving.
“Who is it?,” “Who’s got it?,” “Is it the Dunbars?,” “Is it the Watsons?” Then
the voices began to say, “It’s Hutchinson. It’s Bill,” “Bill Hutchinson’s got
it. ““Go tell your father,” Mrs. Dunbar said to her older son.People began to
look around to see the Hutchinsons. Bill Hutchinson was standing quiet, staring
down at the paper in his hand. Suddenly, Tessie Hutchinson shouted to Mr.
Summers. “You didn’t give him time enough to take any paper he wanted. I saw
you. It wasn’t fair!”“Be a good sport, Tessie,” Mrs. Delacroix called, and Mrs.
Graves said, “All of us took the same chance. ““Shut up, Tessie,” Bill
Hutchinson said.“Well, everyone,” Mr. Summers said, “that was done pretty fast,
and now we’ve got to be hurrying a little more to get done in time. ” He
consulted his next list. “Bill,” he said, “you draw for the Hutchinson family.
You got any other households in the Hutchinsons?”“There’s Don and Eva,” Mrs.
Hutchinson yelled. “Make them take their chance!”“Daughters draw with their
husbands’ families, Tessie,” Mr. Summers said gently. “You know that as well as
anyone else. ““It wasn’t fair,” Tessie said.“I guess not, Joe,” Bill Hutchinson
said regretfully. “My daughter draws with her husband’s family; that’s only
fair. And I’ve got no other family except the kids. ““Then, as far as drawing
for families is concerned, it’s you,” Mr. Summers said in explanation, “and as
far as drawing for households is concerned, that’s you, too. Right?”“Right,”
Bill Hutchinson said.“How many kids, Bill?” Mr. Summers asked formally.“Three,”
Bill Hutchinson said.“There’s Bill, Jr. , and Nancy, and little Dave. And
Tessie and me. “
“All right, then,” Mr.
Summers said. “Harry, you got their tickets back?”Mr. Graves nodded and held up
the slips of paper. “Put them in the box, then,” Mr. Summers directed. “Take
Bill’s and put it in. ““I think we ought to start over,” Mrs. Hutchinson said,
as quietly as she could. “I tell you it wasn’t fair. You didn’t give him time
enough to choose. Everybody saw that. “Mr. Graves had selected the five slips
and put them in the box, and he dropped all the papers but those onto the
ground, where the breeze caught them and lifted them off.“Listen, everybody,”
Mrs. Hutchinson was saying to the people around her.“Ready, Bill?” Mr. Summers
asked, and Bill Hutchinson, with one quick glance around at his wife and
children, nodded.“Remember,” Mr. Summers said, “take the slips and keep them
folded until each person has taken one. Harry, you help little Dave. ” Mr.
Graves took the hand of the little boy, who came willingly with him up to the
box. “Take a paper out of the box, Davy,” Mr. Summers said. Davy put his hand
into the box and laughed. “Take just one paper. ” Mr. Summers said. “Harry, you
hold it for him. ” Mr. Graves took the child’s hand and removed the folded
paper from the tight fist and held it while little Dave stood next to him and
looked up at him wonderingly.“Nancy next,” Mr. Summers said. Nancy was twelve,
and her school friends breathed heavily as she went forward switching her
skirt, and took a slip daintily from the box “Bill, Jr. ,” Mr. Summers said,
and Billy, his face red and his feet overlarge, near knocked the box over as he
got a paper out. “Tessie,” Mr. Summers said. She hesitated for a minute,
looking around defiantly, and then set her lips and went up to the box. She
snatched a paper out and held it behind her.“Bill,” Mr. Summers said, and Bill
Hutchinson reached into the box and felt around, bringing his hand out at last
with the slip of paper in it.The crowd was quiet. A girl whispered, “I hope
it’s not Nancy,” and the sound of the whisper reached the edges of the
crowd.“It’s not the way it used to be,” Old Man Warner said clearly. “People
ain’t the way they used to be. ““All right,” Mr. Summers said. “Open the
papers. Harry, you open little Dave’s. “Mr. Graves opened the slip of paper and
there was a general sigh through the crowd as he held it up and everyone could
see that it was blank. Nancy and Bill, Jr. , opened theirs at the same time,
and both beamed and laughed, turning around to the crowd and holding their
slips of paper above their heads.“Tessie,” Mr. Summers said. There was a pause,
and then Mr. Summers looked at Bill Hutchinson, and Bill unfolded his paper and
showed it. It was blank.“It’s Tessie,” Mr. Summers said, and his voice was
hushed. “Show us her paper, Bill. “Bill Hutchinson went over to his wife and
forced the slip of paper out of her hand. It had a black spot on it, the black
spot Mr. Summers had made the night before with the heavy pencil in the coal
company office. Bill Hutchinson held it up, and there was a stir in the
crowd.“All right, folks. ” Mr. Summers said. “Let’s finish quickly. “Although
the villagers had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black box, they
still remembered to use stones. The pile of stones the boys had made earlier
was ready; there were stones on the ground with “All right, then,” Mr. Summers
said. “Harry, you got their tickets back?”Mr. Graves nodded and held up the
slips of paper. “Put them in the box, then,” Mr. Summers directed. “Take Bill’s
and put it in. ““I think we ought to start over,” Mrs. Hutchinson said, as
quietly as she could. “I tell you it wasn’t fair. You didn’t give him time
enough to choose. Everybody saw that. “Mr. Graves had selected the five slips
and put them in the box, and he dropped all the papers but those onto the
ground, where the breeze caught them and lifted them off.“Listen, everybody,”
Mrs. Hutchinson was saying to the people around her.“Ready, Bill?” Mr. Summers
asked, and Bill Hutchinson, with one quick glance around at his wife and
children, nodded.“Remember,” Mr. Summers said, “take the slips and keep them
folded until each person has taken one. Harry, you help little Dave. ” Mr.
Graves took the hand of the little boy, who came willingly with him up to the
box. “Take a paper out of the box, Davy,” Mr. Summers said. Davy put his hand
into the box and laughed. “Take just one paper. ” Mr. Summers said. “Harry, you
hold it for him. ” Mr. Graves took the child’s hand and removed the folded
paper from the tight fist and held it while little Dave stood next to him and
looked up at him wonderingly.“Nancy next,” Mr. Summers said. Nancy was twelve,
and her school friends breathed heavily as she went forward switching her
skirt, and took a slip daintily from the box “Bill, Jr. ,” Mr. Summers said,
and Billy, his face red and his feet overlarge, near knocked the box over as he
got a paper out. “Tessie,” Mr. Summers said. She hesitated for a minute,
looking around defiantly, and then set her lips and went up to the box. She
snatched a paper out and held it behind her.“Bill,” Mr. Summers said, and Bill
Hutchinson reached into the box and felt around, bringing his hand out at last
with the slip of paper in it.The crowd was quiet. A girl whispered, “I hope
it’s not Nancy,” and the sound of the whisper reached the edges of the
crowd.“It’s not the way it used to be,” Old Man Warner said clearly. “People
ain’t the way they used to be. ““All right,” Mr. Summers said. “Open the
papers. Harry, you open little Dave’s. “Mr. Graves opened the slip of paper and
there was a general sigh through the crowd as he held it up and everyone could
see that it was blank. Nancy and Bill, Jr. , opened theirs at the same time,
and both beamed and laughed, turning around to the crowd and holding their
slips of paper above their heads.“Tessie,” Mr. Summers said. There was a pause,
and then Mr. Summers looked at Bill Hutchinson, and Bill unfolded his paper and
showed it. It was blank.“It’s Tessie,” Mr. Summers said, and his voice was
hushed. “Show us her paper, Bill. “Bill Hutchinson went over to his wife and
forced the slip of paper out of her hand. It had a black spot on it, the black
spot Mr. Summers had made the night before with the heavy pencil in the coal
company office. Bill Hutchinson held it up, and there was a stir in the
crowd.“All right, folks. ” Mr. Summers said. “Let’s finish quickly. “Although
the villagers had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black box, they
still remembered to use stones. The pile of stones the boys had made earlier
was ready; there were stones on the ground with
the blowing scraps of
paper that had come out of the box Delacroix selected a stone so large she had
to pick it up with both hands and turned to Mrs. Dunbar. “Come on,” she said.
“Hurry up. “Mrs. Dunbar had small stones in both hands, and she said, gasping
for breath. “I can’t run at all. You’ll have to go ahead and I’ll catch up with
you. “The children had stones already. And someone gave little Davy Hutchinson
a few pebbles.Tessie Hutchinson was in the center of a cleared space by now,
and she held her hands out desperately as the villagers moved in on her. “It isn’t
fair,” she said. A stone hit her on the side of the head. Old Man Warner was
saying, “Come on, come on, everyone. ” Steve Adams was in the front of the
crowd of villagers, with Mrs. Graves beside him.“It isn’t fair, it isn’t
right,” Mrs. Hutchinson screamed, and then they were upon her.