Guided Sleep Meditation & Sleep Hypnosis from Sleep Cove - The Monkey's Paw - A Halloween Special Story

Episode Date: October 31, 2025

For Halloween, I am reading The Monkey’s paw by, W. W. Jacobs. A classic chilling horror story of unintended consequences and the cautionary tale of being careful what you wish for. Written in Harper's Magazine Written in 1902 and featured in Harper’s Magazine, it is one of the classics of the genre, and even had the honour of being parodied in the Treehouse of Horror series on The Simpsons. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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please go to sleepcove.com slash support. That's sleepcove.com slash support. If you can't support the show right now, please subscribe with a bell to get alerts on all new free content thank you have you ever gazed in wonder at the great pyramid have you marvelled at the golden face of tudankhamun or admired the delicate features of queen netheriti if you have you'll probably like the history of Egypt podcast every week we explore tales of this ancient culture The history of Egypt is available wherever you get your podcasting fix.

Come, let me introduce you to the world of ancient Egypt. For Halloween, I'm reading The Monkees Paul by W.W. Jacobs. A classic, chilling horror story of unintended consequences and being careful what you wish for. Written in 1902 and featured in Harper's magazine, is one of the classics of the genre and even has the honour of being parodied in the Treehouse of Horror series on the Simpsons The Monkees Paul

Chapter 1 Without The night was cold and wet But in the small parlour of the Bernard Villa The blinds were drawn And the fire burned rightly Father and Son were at Chias, the former who possessed ideas about the game in involving radical changes,

putting his king into such sharp and unnecessary perils, that it even provoked comment from the white-haired old lady knitting placidly by the fire. Hark at the wind, said Mr. White, who, having seen a fatal mistake after it was, was too late, was amiably desirous, of preventing his son from seeing it. I'm listening, said the latter, grimly surveying the board as he stretched out his hand. Check. I should hardly think that he'd come to night, said his father, with his hand, poised over the board. mate replied the sun that's the worst of living so far out bored mr white with sudden and unlooked for violence of all the beastly slushy out of the way places to live in this is the worst pathways are bog and the roads a torrent i don't know what people are thinking about i suppose

because only two houses on the road are let, they think it doesn't matter. Never mind, dear, said his wife, soothingly. Perhaps you'll win the next one. Mr. White looked up sharply, just in time to intercept a knowing glance between mother and son. The words died away on his lips, and he hid a guilty grin, in his thin grey beard. There he is, said Herbert White, as the gate banged too loudly,

and heavy footsteps came toward the door. The old man rose, with hospitable haste, and opening the door, was heard condoning with the new arrival. The new arrival also condoled with himself, So that Mrs. White said tut-tat, and coughed gently as her husband entered the room, followed by a tall, bony man, beady of eye, and rubicund of visage. Sergeant Major Morris, he said, introducing him,

the Sergeant Major shook hands, and taking the proffered seat by the fire, watched contentedly, while his host got out whiskey and tumblers, and stood a small copper kettle on the fire. At the third glass, his eyes got brighter, and he began to talk. The little family circle, regarding with eager interest, this visitor from distant paths, as he squared his broad shoulders in the chair, and spoke of strange scenes and doubted, deeds of wars and plagues and strange peoples. Twenty-one years of it, said Mr. White, nodding at his wife and son.

When he went away, he was a slip of a youth in the warehouse. Now look at him. He don't look to have taken much harm, said Mrs. White politely. I'd like to go to India myself, said the old man, just to look to look. Just to look. look round a bit, you know. Better where you are, said the sergeant major, shaking his head. He put down the empty glass, and sighing softly, shook it again. I should like to see those old temples, and fakirs and jugglers, said the old man. What was that you started telling me the other day about a monkey's paw or something, Morris? Nothing. said the soldier hastily.

Leastways, nothing worth hearing. Monkeys Paul, said Mrs. White curiously, well, is just a bit of what you might call magic, perhaps, said the sergeant major, off-handedly. His three listeners leaned forward eagerly. The visitor, absent mildly, put his empty glass to his lips, and then set it down again. His host filled it for him.

To look at it, said the sergeant major, fumbling in his pocket, it's just an ordinary little poor, dried to a mummy. He took something out of his pocket and proffered it. Mrs. White drew back with a grimace, but her son, taking it, examined it curiously. And what is there special about it? inquired Mr. White, as he took it from his son,

and having examined it, placed it upon the table. He had a spell put on it by an old fakir, said the sergeant major, a very holy man. He wanted to show that fate ruled people's lives and that those who interfered with it did so to their sorrow. He put a spin on it so that three separate men could each have three wishes from it. His manner was so impressive

that his hearers were conscious that their light laughter jarred somewhat. Why don't you have three, sir? said Herbert White cleverly. The soldier regarded him in the way that middle age is wont to regard presumptuous youth. I have, he said quietly, and his blotchy face whitened. And did you really have the three wishes granted? asked Mrs. White. I did, said the sergeant major, and his glass tapped against his strong.

teeth. And has anybody else wished? inquired the old lady. The first man had his three wishes, yes, was a reply. I don't know what the first two were, but the third was for death. That's how I got the poor. His tones were so grave, but a hush fell upon. If you've had your three wishes, is no good to you now, then Morris, said the old man at last. What do you keep it for? The soldier shook his head. Fancy, I suppose, he said slowly, if you could have another three wishes, said the old man, eyeing him keenly. Would you have them? I don't know, said the other, I don't know. He took the poor. and dangling it between his front finger and thumb, suddenly threw it upon the fire.

White with a slight cry, stooped down as snatched it off. Better let it burn, said the soldier solemnly. If you don't want it, Morris, said the old man, give it to me. I won't, said his friend doggedly. I threw it on the fire. If you keep it, don't blame me for what happens. Pitch it on the fire again, like a sensible man. The other shook his head and examined his new possession closely.

How do you do it? he inquired. Hold it up in your right hand and wish you loud, said the sergeant major. but I warn you of the consequences. Sounds like the Arabian Knights, said Mrs. White, as she rose, and began to set the supper. Don't you think you might wish for four pairs of hands for me? Her husband drew the talisman from his pocket, and then all three burst into laughter as the sergeant major, with a look of an arm on his face, caught him by the arm, if he must wish, he said roughly, wish for something sensible. Mr. White dropped it back into his pocket, and placing chairs,

motioned his friend to the table. In the business of supper, the talisman was partly forgotten. and afterward the three sat listening in an enthralled fashion to a second installment of the soldier's adventures in India. If the tale, about the monkey ball, is not more truthful than those he has been telling us, said Herbert, as the door closed behind their guest, just in time for him to catch the last train, we shan't make much. out of it. Did you give him anything for it, father? inquired Mrs. White, regarding her husband closely.

A trifle, said he, colouring slightly. He didn't want it, but I made him take it, and he pressed me again to throw it away. Likely, said Herbert, with pretended horror, why we're going to be rich and famous and happy wish to be an emperor father to begin with

then you can't be henpecked he darted around the table pursued by the maligned mrs white armed with an anti-macassar mr white took the pall from his pocket and eyed it jubilously i don't know what to wish for and that's a fact he said slowly it seems to me I've got all I want. If you only cleared the house, you'd be quite happy, wouldn't you? said Herbert, with his hand on his shoulder. Well, wish for two hundred pounds then. That'll just do it. His father, smiling shamefacedly, at his own credulity, held at the talisman, as his son, with a solid face, somewhat marred by a wink at his mother, sat down at the piano

and struck a few impressive chords. I wish for two hundred pounds, said the old man distinctly. A fine crash from the piano greeted the words, interrupted by a shuddering cry from the old man. his wife and son ran toward him. It moved, he cried, with a glance of disgust at the object as it lay on the floor. As I wished, it twisted in my hands like a snake. Well, I don't see the money, said his son, as he picked it up and placed it on the table.

And I bet I never shall. It must have been your fancy father, said his wife, regarding him anxiously. He shook his head. Never mind, though, there's no harm done, but it gave me a shot all the same. The two sat down by the fire again, while the two men finished their pipes. Outside, the wind was higher than ever, and the older man, started nervously at the sound of a door banging upstairs. A silence, unusual and depressing, settled upon all three,

which lasted until the old couple rose to retire for the night. I expect you'll find the cash tied up in a big bag in the middle of your bed, said Herbert, as he made them good night, and something horrible, squatting up on the top of the wardrobe, watching you as you pocket your ill-gotten gains. He sat alone in the darkness, gazing at the dying fire, and seeing faces in it. The last face was so horrible and so Simeon

that he gazed at it in amazement, It got so vivid that with a little and easy laugh He felt on the table for a glass containing a little water to throw over it His hand grasped the monkey's paw And with a little shiver he wiped his hand on his coat And went to bed Chapter 2 In the brightness of the wintry sun

next morning as it streamed over the breakfast table. Herbert laughed at his fears. There was an air of prosaic wholesomeness about the room which it had lacked on the previous night and the dirty, shrivelled little paw was pitched on the sideboard with a carelessness which betokened no great belief in its virtue.

I suppose all old soldiers are the same, said Mrs. White. The idea of our listening to such nonsense. How could wishes be granted in these days? And if they could, how could two hundred pounds hurt you, father? Might drop on his head from the sky, said the frivolous Herbert. Morris said the things happened so naturally, said his father, that you might, if you so wished, attribute it to coincidence. Well, don't break into the money before I come back, said Herbert, as he rose from the table.

I'm afraid it will turn you into a mean, avaricious man, and we shall have to disown you. his mother laughed and following him to the door watched him down the road and returning to the breakfast table was very happy at the expense of her husband's credulity all of which did not prevent her from scurrying to the door at the postman's knock nor prevent her from referring somewhat shortly to retired sergeant majors of Biblis habits, when she found that the post brought a tailor's bill. Herbert will have some more of his funny remarks, I expect, when he comes home, she said, as they sat at dinner. I dare say, said Mr. White, pouring himself out some beer. But for all that, the thing moved in my hand, that I'll swear to. You thought it did, said the old lady, soothingly. I say it did, replied the other.

There was no thought about it. I just, what's the matter? His wife made no reply. She was watching the mysterious movements of a man outside, who, peering in an undecided fashion at the house, appeared to be trying to make up his mind to enter. In mental connection with the £200, she noticed that the stranger was well dressed

and wore a silk hat of glossy newness. Three times he paused at the gate and then walked on again. The fourth time he stood with his hand upon it and then, with sudden resolution, flung it open and walked up the path. Mrs. White, at the same moment, placed her hands behind her, and hurriedly, and fastening the strings of her apron, put that useful article of apparel beneath the cushion of her chair. She brought the stranger, who seemed ill at ease into the room.

He gazed at her furtively and listened in a preoccupied fashion as the old lady apologised for the appearance of the room and her husband's coat, a garment which she usually reserved for the garden. She then waited as patiently as her sex would permit for him to broach his business. but he was at first strangely silent. I was asked a call, he said at last, and stooped and picked a piece of cotton from his trousers. I come from Moore and Meggins. The old lady started, Is anything the matter?

She asked, breathlessly. Has anything happened to her business? it. What is it? What is it? Her husband interposed. There, there, mother, he said hastily, sit down and don't jump to conclusions. You've not brought bad news, I'm sure, sir. And he eyed the other wistfully. I'm sorry, began the visitor. Is he hurt? demanded the mother. The visitor bowed in assent. Badly hurt, he said quietly, but he is not in any pain.

Oh, thank God, said the old woman, clasping her hands. Thank God for that. Thank. She broke off suddenly, as the sinister meaning of the assurance

dawned upon her, and she saw the awful confirmation of her fears in the others' overted face. She caught her breath, and turning to a slower, witted husband, laid her trembling old hands upon his. There was a long silence. He was caught in the machinery, said the visitor at left, in a low voice. Caught in the machinery, repeated Mr. White in a dazed fashion. Yes. He sat staring blankly out the window and taking his wife's hand between his own,

pressed it as he had been wont to do in their old courting days nearly 40 years ago. He was the only one left to us, he said, turning gently to the visitor. It was hard. The other coughed, Rising, walked slowly to the window. The firm wished me to convey the sincere sympathy for you in your great lass, he said, without looking round. I beg that you will understand. I am only the servant, and merely obeying orders. There was no reply. The older woman's face was white, her eyes staring, and her breath.

inaudible. On the husband's face was a look such as his friend the sergeant might have carried into his first action. I was to say that DeMor and Megan's disclaim all responsibility continued in the other. They admit no liability at all, but in consideration of your son's services they wish to present you with a certain of compensation. Mr. White dropped his wife's hand and rising to his feet, gazed with a look of horror at his visitor. His dry lips shaped to the words. Two hundred pounds was the answer. Unconscious of his wife's shriek, the old man smiled faintly, put out his hands like a sightless man and dropped.

a senseless heap to the floor. Chapter 3 In a huge new cemetery, some two miles distant, the old people buried their dead, and came back to a house, stink in shadow and silence. It was all over so quickly that at first they could hardly realise it,

and remained in a state of expectation as though of something else to happen. Something else, which was to lighten this load, too heavy for old hearts to bear. But the days passed, and expectation gave place to resignation, the hopeless resignation of the old sometimes miscalled apathy. Sometimes they hardly exchanged a word, for now they had nothing to talk about

and their days wore along to weariness. It was about a week after that that the older man, waking suddenly in the night, stretched out his hand and found himself alone. The room was in darkness and the sound of subdued weeping came from the window. He raised himself in bed and listened.

He said tenderly, You will be cold. It is colder for my son, said the old woman, and wept afresh. The sound of her sobs died away on her ears. The bed was warm, and his eyes heavy with sleep. He dozed fitfully, and then slept, until a sudden wild cry from his wife awoke him with a start. The poor! she cried wildly.

The monkey's paw. She started up in alarm. Where, where is it? What's the matter? She came stumbling across the room toward him. I want it. She said quietly, You've not destroyed it. It's in the parlour, on the bracket.

He replied marbling. She cried and laughed together and bending over. kissed his cheek. I only just thought of it, she said hysterically. Why didn't I think of it before? Why didn't you think of it? Think of what? he questioned.

The other two wishes, she replied rapidly. We've only had one. Was that not enough? He demanded fiercely. No, she cried triumphantly. We'll have one more. Go down and get it quickly and wish our boy alive again. The man sat up in bed and flung about clothes from his quaking limbs.

Good God you are mad, he cried aghast. Get it, she panted. Get it quickly and wish. Oh, my boy, my boy. Her husband struck a match and lit the candle. Get back to bed, he said unsteadily. You don't know what you are saying. We had the first wish granted, said the old woman, feverishly.

Why not the second? A coincidence, stammered the old man. Go and get it and wish, cried the old woman, quivering with excitement. The old man turned and regarded her, and his voice, shook. He has been dead ten days, and besides he, I would not tell you else, but I could only recognize him by his clothing. If he was too terrible for you to see then, how now? Bring him back, cried the old woman, and dragged him toward the door. Do you think I fear the child I have nursed? He went down in the darkness and felt his way to the parlour and then to the mantelpiece.

The talisman was in its place and a horrible fear that the unspoken wish might bring his mutilated son before him ere he could escape from the room seized upon him and he caught his breath as he found that he had lost the direction of the door. his brow cold with sweat he felt his way around the table and groped along the wall until he found himself in a small passage

with the unwholesome thing in his hand even his wife's face seemed changed as he entered the room it was white and expectant and to his fears seemed to have an unnatural look upon it He was afraid of her. Wish, she cried in a strong voice.

It is foolish and wicked, he faltered. Wish, repeated his wife. He raised his hand. I wish my son alive again. The tennis man fell to the floor, and he regarded its fearfully. Then he sank, trembling into a chair. as the old woman, with burning eyes, walked to the window and raised the blind. He sat until he was chilled with the cold, glancing occasionally at the figure of the old woman peering through the window.

The candle end, which had burnt below the rim of the china candlestick, was throwing, forsating shadows on the ceiling and walls, until, with a flicker larger than the rest, it expired. The old man, with an unspeakable sense of relief, at the failure of the talisman, crept back to his bed, and a minute or two afterward, the old woman came silently and apathetically beside him. Neither spank, but both lay silently, the listening to the ticking of the clock,

A stare creaked, and a squeaky mouse scurried noisily through the wall. The darkness was oppressive, and after lying for some time, screwing up his courage, the husband took the box of matches, and striking one, went downstairs for a candle. At the foot of the stairs, the match went out, and he paused to strike another, and at the same moment a knock, so quiet and stealthily as to be scarcely audible, sounded on the front door. The matches fell from his hand, he stood motionless, his breath suspended until the knock was repeated. Then he turned and fled swiftly back to his room and closed the door behind him. A third knock sounded through the house.

What's that? cried the old woman staring up, said the old man in shaking tones. A rat. It passed me on the stairs. His wife sat up in bed listening. A loud knock resounded through the house. It's Herbert! She screamed, it's Herbert.

She ran to the door. but her husband was before her, and catching her by the arm, held her tightly. What are you going to do? He whispered hoarsely. It's my boy. It's Herbert. She cried, struggling mechanically. I forgot it was two miles away.

What are you holding me for? Let go. I must open the door. For God's sake, don't let it in. cried the old man trembling. You're afraid of your own son? She cried, struggling. Let me go.

I'm coming. Herbert, I'm coming. There was another knock and another. The old woman with a sudden wrench broke free and ran from the room. Her husband followed to the landing and called after her appealingly as she hurried downstairs. He heard the chain rattled back, and the bottom bolt drawn slowly and stiffly from the socket. The old woman's voice strained and panting. The bolt, she cried loudly.

Come down, I can't reach it. And her husband was on his hands and knees, groping wildly on the floor in search of the pool. If he could only find it, before the thing outside got in. A perfect fuselade of knocks reverberated through the house, and he heard the scraping of a chair as his wife put it down in the passage against the door. He heard the creaking of the bolt, as it came slowly back, and at the same moment he found the monkey's paw and frantically breathed his third and last wish. Their knocking ceased suddenly, although the echoes of it were still in the house. He heard the chair drawn back and the door opened. A cold wind rushed on the staircase and a long loud wail of disappointment and misery from his wife

gave him courage to run down to her side and then to the gate beyond. The street lamp flickering opposite shone on a quiet and deserted.