Reimagining of "The Lottery"

 Perspective: Bill Hutchinson

        I shift my weight uneasily. The Lottery is easily the most barbaric of the year, but there aren’t many folks in this town who’d agree with me. Tessie always says it's human nature, the primalistic instinct in us ripping its way to the surface. If it’s true, that instinct certainly rears its ugly head in this town. I check that Tessie is still standing beside me, chattering away like she always does when she’s nervous. I’m more nervous this year than I’ve ever been before, what with Tessie’s late appearance and all. The punishment for skipping the ceremony is worse than anything that could happen to you here, if that’s possible. But I don’t want to make a scene, so I stand quietly and twist the slip of paper in my hand, round and round again, smoothing the creases that inevitably emerge. There’s so many people here it seems near impossible that my family could be at risk. I don’t suppose I even know what I’d do if we were drawn. Run? Fight back? But there’s no need to worry, we won’t be drawn, I reassure myself with every twist of the worn paper. I look up long enough to watch the Zanini boy draw his paper and wait for Mr. Summers to speak. 

“All right fellows,” Mr. Summers says in a loud voice. I get that same sickly feeling I always do at his words. This is the worst part, even worse than what follows. The uncertainty of knowing that it could be anyone, it could be -- No, I thought, No it won’t be me. A rustle of paper sweeps the crowd and I know I must open mine now. I have to know. Nothing could be worse than not knowing. 

“Who is it? Who’s got it?” The far-too-eager crowd calls out. I make an attempt to swallow the lump in my throat and fold back the flaps of the paper. Instantly, my entire world is shattered. I can’t hear the crowd, can’t feel the ground beneath my feet. Only the sting of tears in my eyes and the realization that my family can never recover from this. I don’t have the heart to announce it was me, out of everyone here, it was me. I got it. It’s ok though, the crowd’s getting restless, they’ll know soon enough. Ms. Delacroix leans over my shoulder and claps her hands together with glee. “It’s Hutchison, Bill Hutchison!” she exclaims. Murmurs sweep through the pack until everyone’s heard it. Nancy’s poor face droops as Bill Jr and Dave clutch my side in fear. We’re dumbfounded into silence, but not Tessie. 

“Wait! What about Don and Eva?” she calls, “Make them take their chance!” I’m certain my jaw has unhinged from my mouth. Surely not Tessie too? The same woman who once frowned upon the atrocity of this ceremony? I’m appalled. No, far more than that. I don’t even know what I am anymore. No one here does. If any of us had any common sense, we’d all sprint back to our homes and bar the door. But we don’t. No one moves and I stupidly follow the crowd, locked into my place in this town. 

In a blur, Mr. Summers passes out new slips of paper to my family and I. I accept my slip, still not able to fully process what’s happened to my family, to Tessie, and even to me. Mr. Summers steps back and orders us to open the papers. I feel faint. Again, that nauseating feeling of dread swoops through me. I glance at my family and offer a weak smile. We unfold our slips. I sigh in relief at the pure, clean, beautiful blankness of my paper. I’m safe. Instantly, I admonish myself. Personal safety only means someone else in my family must die. I force myself to look at my children and am relieved to see blank slips in everyone’s tiny hands. Everyone except Tessie, who stands rigidly, gazing at her paper. Prompted by Mr. Summers, I reach for her paper and wrestle it out of her grip. Unfolding it slowly, I confirm the reality to the crowd. Some shake their heads, some nod somberly, and some just stare. But all move into action too quickly, reaching to the ground to pick up the smooth stones they’ve gathered in preparation for today. I hug my children tightly, relieved that at least, at the very least, it wasn’t one of them. Then I look back to the motion of the crowd and without thinking, bend to pick up a stone.