
A. M. Homes Reads Shirley Jackson
The New Yorker: Fiction
The Black Box and the Stones
The villagers had forgotten their ritual and lost the original black box, but 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. Mrs. Delacroix selected a stone so large she had to pick it up with both hands and turn to Mrs. Dunbar. Tessie Hutchinson held her hands out desperately as the villagers moved in on her. She said, gasping for breath, I can't run at all.
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