The Lottery

“The lottery was conducted—as were the square dances, the teen-age 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.” 

On a lovely summer day, with the friendly crowd milling, who better to conduct a lottery than Mr. Summers, whose cheerful and orderly presence makes the event seem more special? His flaws—childlessness, a nagging wife—make him seem all the more human, in ironic contrast to the event he oversees.

“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.” 

The box—from which annually is drawn the deadly fate of one of the villagers—has been used in the lottery since before the oldest resident was born. The townsfolk are reluctant to alter anything about the annual ritual, perhaps for fear of jinxing it. Though perceived almost universally by the residents as vital, the lottery’s purpose, after many generations, has become hazy. 

“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.” 

The box is antique; its predecessor might have been constructed hundreds of years earlier. Because the lottery tradition extends way back in time, it carries an authority that overpowers any concerns about whether it’s still a good idea. 

“‘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.” 

Tessie forgets the lottery, a ritual she dislikes, then jokes about it, causing laughter. Clearly, she’s well liked. Her droll humor, along with the otherwise normal behavior of the crowd, belies the underlying tension of the day. 

“‘Well, now,’ Mr. Summers said soberly, ‘guess we better get started, get this over with, so’s we can go back to work.’” 

It’s just a normal day that happens to contain an old local ritual; there’s nothing to worry about. For the reader, something seems out of place; the air fills with tension. 

“‘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.’” 

No one thinks time flies between much-desired happenings; only bad things seem hurried. This lottery is definitely off in some way. A gnawing sense of dread begins to build. 

“Lottery in June, corn be heavy soon.” 

It’s an old saying that explains the purpose of the lottery, to placate the powers that control the weather and the success of the crops. The eldest member of the community recites the adage to remind others of the rite’s importance; his neighbors already have forgotten the true meaning of the lottery. 

“By now, all through the crowd there were men holding the small folded papers in their large hands, turning them over and over nervously.”

One of these pieces of paper bears grim news. Whoever draws the marked paper leads the household that will “win” the lottery. Everyone appears willing for the lottery to continue, but no one seems anxious to win it. 

“‘Seventy-seventh year I been in the lottery,’ Old Man Warner said as he went through the crowd. “Seventy-seventh time.’”

Old Man Warner has lost every time. It’s almost as if he’s proud of this fact; perhaps he’s entitled, since, with time, it becomes increasingly hard for a given citizen to escape the lottery’s relentless annual randomness.

“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.” 

The Hutchinson family—Bill, Tessie, and their three kids—has been chosen by lottery. Each of them, even the smallest child, must pull from the box a piece of paper; one of them will “win”. The villagers know what the “prize” is, but as yet it remains a mystery to toddler Davy—and to the reader.

“‘It’s not the way it used to be,’ Old Man Warner said clearly. ‘People ain’t the way they used to be.’” 

Warner regrets the way things have changed. The lottery used to be more respected; people no longer seem dedicated to it. He believes the lottery is a good thing, and, though no one appears overtly enthusiastic about the ritual, only Tessie, this year’s chosen one, raises any objection. 

“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.’” 

Something is terribly wrong with a lottery that no one wants to win. Of all people, the winner is Tess, who was late to the event and complained about the fairness of the draw. Something unpleasant must now occur. 

“The children had stones already, and someone gave little Davy Hutchinson a few pebbles.” 

Tessie Hutchinson has been chosen by lottery to be stoned. Her youngest son, Davy, must participate by throwing stones to help kill his own mother.