My Lost Mobile Phone, Remembered

Kemarin malam salah satu stasiun televisi nasional kembali menayangkan-ulang House of Wax. Film horor yang meskipun kata para kritikus dan pencinta film, adalah sebuah remake yang unworthy and trashy, tapi memiliki makna khusus buatku. Benar-benar khusus, meskipun kalau orang lain tahu kenapa, kesannya akan jadi ga’ penting banget. Haha!

Ehm, memang makna khususnya masih punya kaitan dengan Paris Hilton. Bukan, ini tidak ada kena-mengenanya dengan hubungan antara ’idola’ dan ’penggemar’. Tapi lebih pada karakternya Paris, yaitu Paige Edwards.

Jadi beginilah ceritanya.

Dalam salah satu adegan yang intense, Carly Jones (diperankan Elisha Cuthbert) mencoba menghubungi Paige, yang saat itu sedang asyik-masyuk bercumbu dengan kekasihnya. Tapi namanya kalau birahi sedang memuncak ke ubun-ubun, langsung lupa sama yang lain. Termasuk, mengabaikan panggilan telepon yang masuk.



Hayo, pada ngaku, kalau sedang panas-panasnya foreplay, ga’ peduli anjing menggongong kencang, telepon ribut berdering krang-kring-krang-kring, PLTN mendadak memadamkan listrik, kayanya ’kentang’ banget kalau foreplay-nya diberhentikan. Perintah yang dikirimkan sistem syaraf ke seluruh sensor tubuh biasanya cuma satu: ”Lanjutkan!”.

Seperti itu jugalah yang dilakukan Paige. Penonton hanya diperlihatkan close-up unit telepon genggam yang dipakai Paige. Dan inilah yang membuatku kaget, excited. Jenisnya sama seperti yang kupakai saat itu!! Bedanya, Paige memakai yang warna hijau, aku memakai yang warna merah.

Dengan sedikit norak, aku sempat nyeletuk agak kencang di dalam bioskop yang gelap dan duapertiga kursinya diisi penonton: “Eh! Henponnya sama dengan punya gue!!”, yang langsung direspon oleh teman menontonku dengan gerakan refleks menepuk lengan atasku, “Hush!”.

Hampir empat tahun kemudian, ketika film horror ini kembali ditayangkan-ulang di salah satu stasiun televisi nasional, seakan menjadi pengingat bahwa pada suatu hari yang mendung dan diikuti hujan deras di bulan Ramadhan tahun 2005 Masehi, ketika aku mencoba berpetualang sendiri menuju Bogor menaiki kereta listrik kelas ekonomi yang penuh sesak dari ujung ke ujung sehingga nyaris tidak ada celah sedikitpun karena setiap tubuh sudah saling lekat erat dan rapat, seorang pencopet dengan lihainya sukses mengambil telepon gengamku tersebut yang disimpan di dalam saku ransel yang kucantolkan di depan badan. Inilah salah satu hari tersial sepanjang hidup yang rasanya tak akan mungkin bisa kulupa.

Demikianlah ceritanya, sebab-musabab kenapa setiap kali House of Wax ditayangkan-ulang di televisi, aku jadi teringat lagi satu adegan yang buatku terasa istimewa itu. Meskipun hingga kini, hanya sekali itu saja, di bioskop, aku menonton film horror remaja tersebut sampai selesai. Dan hingga kini pula, hanya sekali itu sajalah aku pernah bepergian seorang diri menaiki kereta listrik kelas ekonomi menuju Bogor, tak ingin lagi mengulanginya.

Peristiwa kehilangan telepon genggam karena kecopetan itu jugalah yang sedikit banyak mengubah cara pandangku hingga kini. Sekarang, aku tak pernah lagi merasa kasihan pada para pencopet yang tertangkap massa lantas digebuki beramai-ramai hingga babak belur. Biar tahu rasa dia, sudah merugikan orang lain!

Bagaimana, penting ga’ penting kan tulisanku kali ini? Haha!

What Christine Brown Should Do to Avoid Being Dragged to Hell

Christine Brown has a good job, a great boyfriend, and a bright future. But in three days, she's going to hell.

Unless, of course, if she put her coat – including the removed button – for sale in eBay for a mere dollar the morning after being attacked by Mrs. Sylvia Ganush, that old and vicious gypsy woman (so it will sell in less than 3 days). But even if she can’t auction her old coat in the internet, she can still sell it to a thrift shop right away after being attacked the night before.

You see, just like the story itself reveals only tens of minutes afterwards, Christine offers the supposedly-enveloped-button to his conniving coworker Stu Rubin in order to divert the curse of Lamia to him. When this didn’t work because in the very last minute she decided to back off of the evil plan, all she has to do next is to sell her brown coat to any thrift shop together with her jewelries and ice-skating shoes, and make sure – verbally and, if needed, in writings – that she hands over the rights of ownership to the shop-owner (to which he/she has to express agreement upon) or to the subsequent unsuspicious buyer.

And then, voila!

As fast as snapping your fingers, Christine will be freed of the curse of Lamia.

Such a devilish plan, you said?

What the heck! Who wants to get burned in hell for eternity anyway?

"Semuuwa Menjeeeeriiiittt ... !!"

Membicarakan film-film horor Indonesia masa kini tentu harus beda perspektifnya dengan produksi sebelum dekade 1990-an. Dari sisi teknik produksi sinema, masa kini sudah tentu (dan memang seharusnya) jauh lebih canggih. Jadi hantu-hantu yang eksis di layar lebar harusnya juga lebih canggih dan lebih happening lagi dalam menampilkan diri. Tidak lagi mempergunakan teknik ”ting!” lalu hantu menghilang.
Ini trik yang lazim dipakai di film-film nasional waktu masih ada Departemen Penerangan. Biasanya sih aku menyebutnya trik Jinny oh Jinny, mengutip judul sinetron komedi yang dibintangi Sahrul Gunawan dan Diana Pungky yang berperan sebagai Jinny, sesosok jin perempuan pinpinbo (pinter-pinter bodoh) yang hidup di dalam cangkang kerang extra large, yang dalam sepakterjangnya selalu dan always pakai teknik on-off cam buat memunculkan atau menghilangkan barang maupun orang (disertai sound effect "ting!") dalam setiap episode serial ini.
Meskipun tentu saja, penyebutan ini tidak tepat karena teknik efek spesial cara ini telah dipergunakan sejak lamaaa sebelumnya. Bisa jadi malahan sudah dilakukan sejak dalam film Loetoeng Kasaroeng kali ya?

Kembali ke perbincangan seputar era kebangkitan kembali film Indonesia dari liang lahat – untungnya itu liang belum ditimbun jadi masih lebih mudah keluarnya daripada harus susah payah gali-gali sendiri, makin horor deh jadinya! – yang katanya ditandai dengan suksesnya film Petualangan Sherina, ada satu film lain yang kala itu kehadirannya cukup menghentak dunia hiburan negeri ini. Judulnya pun cukup memancing rasa ingin tahu dan kehororan: Jelangkung.
Yang jelas, happening banget deh pokoknya film Jelangkung ini, sampai ada urban legend yang katanya film ini memang beneran ada hantunya (kaya masa kini beli hape dibundel kartu perdana, nah ini film dibundel sama setannya), atau yang terpaksa disensor ulang lah karena terlalu seram sampai bikin orang kerasukan saat nonton, atau isunya bahkan ada satu baris dalam tiap gedung bioskop yang harus dikosongkan setiap pemutaran sebagai ”syarat” dari alam ghaib. Yang terakhir ini malah dijadikan premis untuk membuat sekuelnya, Jelangkung 3. Tapi film yang disebut terakhir ini paling kacau deh, katro abis. Belum lagi dialognya yang bikin ketawa ngakak, masa dua orang anak yang tinggal di rumah mewah dengan pembantu segala sampai bertengkar gara-gara rebutan Pop Mie! (Penting banget yak?!)


Nah, salah satu yang paling diingat dari film Jelangkung besutan Jose Poernomo dan Rizal Mantovani ini adalah diorbitkannya salah satu karakter utama film horor ini ke level legendary superstardom.
Halah! Tentu saja bukan karakter Roni Dozer yang tipikal gendud-bodoh atau Harry Panca yang sok jagoan-reckless-stupid, atau siapalah nama perempuan itu yang teriak-teriak ga penting melulu (minta ditampol!), dan juga bukan Winky Wiryawan yang takut-panik tetap manis-manis jambu air.
Yang paling happening dari film ini justru sosok Suster Ngesot yang entah mengapa tampilannya begitu mengerikan. Padahal kan dia ngesot-ngesot doang ya. Tendang aja kalo mendekat terus kabuuur! Sprint 3 menit juga kayanya sudah cukup, itu suster pasti udah ketinggalan jauh di belakang. Kan dia pasti capek ngesot-ngesot kesana-kemari. By the way sekedar trivia, sosok suster ngesot yang seram di film Jelangkung itu kan sebenarnya diperankan oleh seorang lelaki bernama Arief (Yap! Aku tahu pasti karena waktu itu mantengin sampai credit title saking penasarannya). Nah, jadi ga serem lagi kan pas udah tahu? He! He!
Lalu waktu itu lihat episode perdana Extravaganza yang sketsa terakhirnya ada suster ngesot diperankan oleh Aming, malah si suster tampil kocak dan lucu banget. Masa ngesot dari Terminal Kampung Rambutan sampai Studio 1 Trans TV di Tendean? Ga lecet-lecet dan berdarah-darah tuh bokong sampai betis? (sebagai catatan, kalau naik bis aja waktu tempuhnya bisa satu jam lebih lho! Bayangin aja kalo ngesot ...)
Terus waktu aku lihat episode perdana sinetron cupu Di Sini Ada Setan, eh kok ya hantunya suster ngesot lagi sih? Malah ceritanya di situ mengapa sampai ada suster yang ngesot-ngesot makin ga penting. Demikian seterusnya.

Bahkan kini, hampir satu dekade sejak dirilisnya film Jelangkung, sosok suster ngesot masih saja dieksploitasi. Ga ngerasa bosan apa ya? Segala macam alasan udah dipakai untuk menjustifikasi mengapa sampai tercipta aktivitas ngesot tersebut. Mostly karena seks. Dasar orang-orang Indonesia pikirannya kinky juga. Ternyata banyak yang memiliki fetish terhadap petugas-petugas berseragam.
Nah, sepanjang ingatanku, terakhir ya dengan dirilisnya dalam waktu hampir berdekatan, film Suster Ngesot yang dibintangi oleh Nia Ramadhani dan Suster N: Legenda Suster Ngesot yang antara lain dibintangi Wulan Guritno.
Parahnya waktu itu masih ingat banget, ketika aku bersama Ralph dan Bradley mau nonton 28 Weeks Later di Plaza Senayan, saat sedang berjalan menuju studio tempat akan diputarnya film tersebut, tiba-tiba di tengah-tengah jalan, kami sedikit terhadang kehebohan. Seorang perempuan menangis sesenggukan dengan histeris, dan seorang lelaki yang diduga kuat pacarnya sedang berusaha menenangkan dan membujuk perempuan tersebut. Sementara itu beberapa petugas PS XXI tampak bingung berdiri membego di seputar pasangan tersebut. Brad yang memang hobi gosip dan suka mau tau langsung mengorek-ngorek informasi kepada salah satu satpam yang berada di seputaran tempat kejadian perkara dan diduga mengetahui secara pasti kejadian ini. Ternyata oh ternyata, oleh pihak rumah produksi film itu, biar happening mereka mempergunakan talent suster bohongan dengan make-up putih a la hantu-hantuan buat ngesot dan ngagetin penonton yang sedang menonton film tersebut. Entah cara ini bisa dikatakan terlalu sukses atau malah gagal total – judging from what we saw – yang jelas ada kehebohan besar yang diakibatkannya.
My deepest sympathy to the couple. If I were them, pasti langsung bikin tuntutan dan memperkarakan ke meja hijau. Biar tahu rasa itu yang punya ide bikin suster-susteran ngesot dalam ruangan studio saat pemutaran film. Ide bodoh!

Sama seperti masih bodoh aja – setidaknya menurutku – kalau bikin film horror dengan sosok Suster Ngesot sebagai main horror talent-nya. Blah! Sooo last decade aja gitu! Itu karakter sudah habis dieksploitasi, kalau misalnya dianalogikan dengan sumur minyak ya sudah seharusnya diisi dengan air panas lalu ditutup dan ditinggalkan.
Nah, ini juga kejadian yang kurang lebih sama dengan tokoh pocong; mau pakai embel-embel angka 2 kek, 3 lah, 40 kek atau ditaliin sekalipun, ya tetap aja penampilannya guling pake muka kusut (jadi inget salah satu adegan di film Pocong 2 yang sebenarnya sudah ketebak banget what would happened next). Tapi emang betul sih, muka seram mah memang sudah jadi modal dasar buat jadi setan sukses. Makin rusak dan menjijikkan, makin eksis!


Tapi kalau kita melongok ke belakang, salah satu wujud karakter setan tersukses – dan paling legendaris – dalam sejarah panjang sinema Indonesia, kok ternyata wajahnya tidak ada rusak-rusaknya sama sekali ya? Justru malahan mulus putih (banget!) berkat perawatan teratur (yang mungkin) bak putri keraton. Dan ternyata saking iconic-nya karakter setan ini, tidak ada satu pun aktris – sejak tahun 1980an hingga saat ini – yang mampu mendekati – apalagi menyamai – keseraman akting aktris pemeran karakter hantu tersebut.
Sebagai catatan khusus, berkat salah satu adegan yang diperaninya jugalah, ia berhasil merevolusi cara pandang masyarakat Indonesia terhadap sate, hingga saat ini.

Hayo, buat yang baca dan emang suka film-film nasional, terutama yang lahir sebelum tahun 1990-an, tentu pada tahu dong hantu mana yang kumaksudkan di sini?
Ga perlu sampai penasaran (awas hati-hati nanti jadi arwah P...), karena potongan klip video berikut ini menampilkan jawabannya! Selamat menyaksikan ...

Jayalah Sinema (Horor) Indonesia!

Apa Lagi Yang Kau Cari, Samantha?

Akhirnya Kuntilanak 3 datang juga menghampiri para pemirsa (setianya, eh?!).

Diklaim sebagai sekuel pamungkas dari kisah para pemuja kekuatan gelap dan pemelihara arwah perempuan yang mati penasaran ini, Kuntilanak 3 berhasil menakut-nakuti penonton dengan pakem khas film horor.

Benarkah demikian?
Silahkan Anda menilainya sendiri.

Film ini dibuka dengan adegan Stella (diperankan oleh Paramitha Rusady yang terlihat tetap cantik semlohei dan awet muda dengan terapi suntik botox, ehm ..., maksudnya Laudya Cinthya Bella yang entah mengapa di dalam film ini memang terlihat dan terdengar sangat mirip Mitha) bercengkerama mesra dengan tunangannya (yang bahkan di situs 21cineplex tidak mendapat credit) sembari duduk berpelukan erat di depan cahaya api unggun yang berkelebat dalam hutan lebat di tengah kegelapan rimba yang begitu pekat (rhymes! tapi untungnya tidak sedang bertelanjang bulat *wink!*).
Hanya perlu melihat beberapa detik pertama dari opening scene tersebut, penonton film horor pintar (maksud sebenarnya, penontonnya yang pintar) pasti sudah langsung tahu kalau Stella akan mati secara gory bahkan sebelum opening credit muncul.

Cara menebaknya sebenarnya cukup mudah.
Di tengah hutan lebat di daerah antah-berantah alias no man’s land di tengah malam buta yang sangat dingin (diasumsikan demikian karena si pemeran pria memakai kaos dalam, kemeja, vest DAN jaket SEKALIGUS), Stella yang selalu tersenyum manis manja group mengenakan baju terbuka dengan belahan dada terlalu rendah sehingga memamerkan (jadi bukan sekedar memperlihatkan, lho, dicatet!) cleavage-nya yang tampak begitu menggoda. Tapi ternyata tidak cukup hanya dengan tampil seksi like such biatch, Stella JUGA BERANI MELAKUKAN "tipikal kesalahan fatal yang sudah begitu klisenya karena dilakukan oleh karakter-karakter yang ditakdirkan mati mengerikan dalam film-film horor", yaitu dengan bercanda tentang nasib buruk dan kematian. Di depan tunangannya sendiri (dan seluruh pemirsa), Stella berpura-pura diserang oleh sosok tak terlihat yang mencekiknya sampai sesak napas. Detik itu juga kita mengetahui alamat nasib buruk yang mengerikan sudah pasti menanti dirinya.
Pertanyaannya bukan lagi ”mengapa Stella?”, tapi ”kapan dan bagaimana?”. Penonton ternyata memang tidak perlu menunggu terlalu lama ...

Dan tentu saja tidak perlu intelijensia tinggi untuk mencerna alur cerita film yang berdurasi kurang lebih 2 jam lebih sedikit ini. Anda cuma perlu duduk manis dan siap-siaplah untuk dikagetkan – atau lebih ekstrem lagi, sampai menjerit kencang sambil menutup mata! seperti yang dilakukan oleh teman menonton saya. Biar tidak terlalu gengsi karena dianggap penakut, tunggulah cue dari ilustrasi musik garapan Andi Rianto, yang dijamin akan sangat memudahkan para penonton untuk menebak, ”Ayo siap-siap, setannya mau keluar lagi nih!”. Lalu dengan patuhnya si setan perempuan muncul ... duengg ! *kyaa!*

Tapi kalau polanya begitu terus sepanjang film, berputar-putar tanpa logika yang jelas – kecuali untuk satu hal, bahwa jelas-jelas semua tokoh yang berseliweran berebut screen time sambil melakukan / mengatakan hal-hal bodoh (please lihat lagi sample lain untuk "tipikal kesalahan fatal yang sudah begitu klisenya karena dilakukan oleh karakter-karakter yang ditakdirkan mati mengerikan dalam film-film horor") satu-persatu akan menemui ajal secara mengerikan demi memuaskan nafsu para penontonnya akan muncratan darah atau nafsu untuk ditakut-takuti – lama-kelamaan pasti capek juga melihatnya.


Yang kemudian justru menjadi tantangan menarik bagi penonton, setidaknya bagi saya sendiri lah!, adalah untuk menerka-nerka siapa dari keempat anak muda metropolis tersebut yang akan mati duluan, kapan kejadiannya dan bagaimana atau se-gory apa adegan pencabutan nyawa mereka, dan siapa yang akan menyusul mati berikutnya di tengah pekatnya selimut misteri hutan kelam Ujung Sedo. Setidaknya bagiku, sudah ga penting lagi apakah mereka akan berhasil menemukan mayat kedua sahabat mereka yang telah hilang duluan di dalam hutan, atau setidaknya bisa apakah mereka bisa melacak jejak bekas pipis atau pup si Stella dan tunangannya yang bodoh itu (ya iyalah! di dalam hutan seperti itu kan ga ada jamban!).

Dan begitu penonton berhenti mengkhawatirkan takdir mengerikan apa yang mengintai keempat sahabat dari balik rimbunnya pepohonan, rasanya tidak ada alasan lagi untuk juga peduli pada apa lagi yang bakal dialami Samantha (diperankan kembali untuk ketiga kalinya oleh Julie Estelle). Kalau dia bisa menemukan jalannya sendiri menuju hutan Ujung Sedo, dan kalau dia bisa menemukan gua menyeramkan itu hanya dengan mengandalkan intuisi, rasanya akan lebih baik kalau saja Samantha meninggalkan keempat sahabat tersebut dan tidak melibatkan mereka dalam petualangan yang sejak awal sudah kental bau darah ini. Toh begitu dia berhasil melepaskan diri dari keresehan dan kebodohan keempat sahabat itu, Samantha bisa dengan cepatnya menemukan dan lantas berhadapan langsung dengan sumber dari segala sumber rangkaian malapetaka yang bertubi-tubi menimpa dirinya tersebut, which happened in one of the technically best horror scenes ever graced Indonesian cinema.


However, kudos pantas diberikan untuk aspek-aspek teknis Kuntilanak 3 yang sangat berhasil membangun atmosfer ketegangan yang menakutkan, khususnya di beberapa adegan horor klimaks yang kelas dan kualitasnya jelas-jelas sekian tingkat di atas beberapa rilisan film horor Indonesia belakangan ini (am pointing at the legendary comeback of The Indonesia Queen of Horror, Suzanna. Such a shameful return, Ma’am).

The Lottery

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 2nd. 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 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' 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 part 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," Mr. 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 and 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 that 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, saying, "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 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 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.




{ It was an article written by Chuck Palahniuk in The Guardian Unlimited that evoked my curiosity to find this short story he mentioned as the primary example for his 'cycle of horror' model theory. "The Lottery", and some other great American short stories, that is posted above can be found here }