Shirley Jackson “The Lottery”, Creative Essay Example

In this piece of writing I have opted to employ almost similar style employed by Shirley Jackson, “The Lottery”. I opted for the “Lottery” due to the way the author had exploited the use of situational ironies, figurative speech as well as metaphors. These very same elements I have incorporated them in this writing. The purpose of doing so is to exploit the dynamism of utilizing imagery, symbolism as well as ironies in the field of creative writing. My style is moderately descriptive unlike Shirley whose style is highly descriptive and pessimistic; regarding the tone of my tone is plainly dark and lightly gritty. Hence, my piece is titled as; The Village Hut and here are the excerpts;

The weaning sound of drums rekindled the ancient legendary of man-eating aliens from the west, as we sat clichéd together in that lonely hut. No one dared to sigh or whisper. The fog covered hut was rarely used, but curiosity had compelled us to scrawl lazily into the wicked hours so that we may poke holes into what the Arubani community assumed to be true. The village folks had it that the hut was in essence the house of gods of vengeance and it was widely known that whoever entered that hut must pay handsomely by donating a soul, not  a soul of beasts but a man and in this case a relative. For generations this hut withstood the test of time, it beat logic how it survived the pacific harsh conditions, but the silent word was, the house zetack was mandated in maintaining the hut including passing the traditional wisdom to their sons.

As the night gained currency and wolves begun to howl the more concerned we were, Mousa the son of Eliba the zetack was the leader of our three man party. Using his little knowledge which he had attained in the course of his training he managed to open an inner room which was concealed in the hut, without light and lost in the darkness we opted to spend the night in the lonely but warm hut.

As was the tradition of the locals the warriors were mandated with making sure the villagers were safe and secure from any threat, and it was in an attempt to sneak from the legendary hut that we came face to face with the reality, our parents had issued a word that our whereabouts was unknown. Mousa being the leader was the first to be caught, followed by me and then Ndiso.  What we had done was pronounced to an act of endangering the entire community, as the drums roared and the warriors blew the horns aggressively was dragged to the chiefs court where were tied to sacrificial post waiting for the verdict of the chief from the council of elders.

The entire village was in a sad mood, everyone knew, if the chief raises the unmasked bamboo walking stick our fate was sealed, or alternatively if the smoke billowed to the sky before noon. However, the greatest surety of our survival was if it happens to rain as we were being taken to the huts white door for the last cleaning before being handled to the village’s gatekeeper who happened to be my father for final rites. This involved compelled to go through a borne fire naked before being boiled alive.

Mourning or wailing was not allowed, our mothers were also forbidden to give us anything. For three consecutive nights were left out in the colds. The chief never came out neither did he ever enquire why we had violated the communities ancient beliefs.  The only close encounter was of the warriors who patrolled the villages and our age mates who were assigned the duty of keeping the fire burning.  The nights were long and the gods were against us, on the third day our parents were summoned by the chief to his official hut which as was the tradition only his age mates who could address him during the day, but the issue at hand was beyond any man control, the rule was overlooked so as to facilitate the parents meeting with the chief. But as the warriors begun to prepare the valley of cleansing, one thing that came to my mind was that the chief had no choice but to follow the very steps our fathers had established, punishing anyone who had by chance violated the rules.

The sad thing was all of us were the first born in our respective families; this pained the families and the villagers at large. But no one could have raised a hand for the fear of reprisal. There were those who were celebrating for knowing that none of was secure. Our families were given one last chance to speak to us, my mother could note withstand the pain of losing a son, while my sitters mourned silently, and the villagers gathered in groups filled with grieve as they waited for the chiefs messenger to deliver the next step of sacrifice. The skies too were certain our fate was sealed, no one dared to question why were being subjected to suffering and we were young lads without knowledge or the understanding of what had befallen those who dared to tamper with the huts secrets. Soon the men begun moving towards us one by one, this signified the chief was in the verge of coming out of his hut. This incidence had to be welcome with the appropriate rituals so as not invoke more anger from the gods. Therefore, the village men had no choice but to shave us crudely.

It was in the early hours that the chief came out holding the uncovered bamboo stick, clad in his traditional Aztec war regalia he circled us three times before halting midway.

The entire village was shocked, the chief looked into the vast hills surrounding us, the trees were drying up, the animals had migrated due to the dry spell were going through, while men were dying of hunger, the chief was very sad. Gradually he took a manly stride towards us, he poured the preserved anointing oil on my head and chanted some words which I didn’t hear and repeated the same ritual for three times. However, even before he could lift the bamboo stick the smoke billowed up straight high and within no time the entire village was disrupted by unexpected deluge. The cleansing rituals were stopped and for two days no one talked, not even my mother, it was after seven days after the rains subsided did the chief requested we be taken to his court where a sacrifice was made as a sign of thanks giving. I came to learn later that it was a taboo to enter the hut no matter what, the only person who was allowed to enter the hut was the village’s high priest and this was done only if the prevailing circumstances allowed. Too, I came to learn that the village had killed a lot of young boys who were mischievous enough to hide in the hut unknowingly.