Biography of Anton Chekhov Anton ChekhovRussian physician, renowned short story author and playwright wrote Uncle Vanya ; We must live our lives. Yes, we shall live, Uncle Vanya. We shall live through the long procession of days before us, and through the long evenings; we shall patiently bear the trials that fate imposes on us; we shall work for others without rest, both now and when we are old; and when our last hour comes we shall meet it humbly, and there, beyond the grave, we shall say that we have suffered and wept, that our life was bitter, and God will have pity on us. Ah, then dear, dear Uncle, we shall see that bright and beautiful life; we shall rejoice and look back upon our sorrow here; a tender smile--and--we shall rest.
And immediately, as though in mockery of his scepticism, no further than the second line from the top, his eye was caught by the figure 9,! Unable to believe his eyes, he hurriedly dropped the paper on his knees without looking to see the number of the ticket, and, just as though some one had given him a douche of cold water, he felt an agreeable chill in the pit of the stomach; tingling and terrible and sweet!
His wife looked at his astonished and panicstricken face, and realized that he was not joking. Anyway, the number of our The lottery ticket short story essay is there! His wife smiled too; it was as pleasant to her as to him that he only mentioned the series, and did not try to find out the number of the winning ticket.
To torment and tantalize oneself with hopes of possible fortune is so sweet, so thrilling! We have plenty of time to be disappointed. And in a minute I shall look at the list, and there! I say, what if we really have won?
The possibility of winning bewildered them; they could not have said, could not have dreamed, what they both needed that seventy-five thousand for, what they would buy, where they would go. They thought only of the figures 9, and 75, and pictured them in their imagination, while somehow they could not think of the happiness itself which was so possible.
Ivan Dmitritch, holding the paper in his hand, walked several times from corner to corner, and only when he had recovered from the first impression began dreaming a little.
The ticket is yours, but if it were mine I should, first of all, of course, spend twenty-five thousand on real property in the shape of an estate; ten thousand on immediate expenses, new furnishing.
The other forty thousand I would put in the bank and get interest on it. And in all these pictures he saw himself well-fed, serene, healthy, felt warm, even hot! Here, after eating a summer soup, cold as ice, he lay on his back on the burning sand close to a stream or in the garden under a lime-tree.
His little boy and girl are crawling about near him, digging in the sand or catching ladybirds in the grass.
He dozes sweetly, thinking of nothing, and feeling all over that he need not go to the office today, tomorrow, or the day after. Or, tired of lying still, he goes to the hayfield, or to the forest for mushrooms, or watches the peasants catching fish with a net.
When the sun sets he takes a towel and soap and saunters to the bathing shed, where he undresses at his leisure, slowly rubs his bare chest with his hands, and goes into the water. And in the water, near the opaque soapy circles, little fish flit to and fro and green water-weeds nod their heads.
After bathing there is tea with cream and milk rolls. In the evening a walk or vint with the neighbors. Ivan Dmitritch pictured to himself autumn with its rains, its cold evenings, and its St. At that season he would have to take longer walks about the garden and beside the river, so as to get thoroughly chilled, and then drink a big glass of vodka and eat a salted mushroom or a soused cucumber, and then--drink another.
The children would come running from the kitchen-garden, bringing a carrot and a radish smelling of fresh earth. And then, he would lie stretched full length on the sofa, and in leisurely fashion turn over the pages of some illustrated magazine, or, covering his face with it and unbuttoning his waistcoat, give himself up to slumber.
It rains day and night, the bare trees weep, the wind is damp and cold. The dogs, the horses, the fowls--all are wet, depressed, downcast.
Ivan Dmitritch stopped and looked at his wife. And he began thinking how nice it would be in late autumn to go abroad somewhere to the South of France.
It occurred to him: It is pleasant to travel alone, or in the society of light, careless women who live in the present, and not such as think and talk all the journey about nothing but their children, sigh, and tremble with dismay over every farthing.
Ivan Dmitritch imagined his wife in the train with a multitude of parcels, baskets, and bags; she would be sighing over something, complaining that the train made her head ache, that she had spent so much money. At the stations he would continually be having to run for boiling water, bread and butter.
Besides, what is the use of her going abroad? What does she want there? She would shut herself up in the hotel, and not let me out of her sight. What would she make of it? And yet she would go, of course. In reality it is all one to her, whether it is Naples or Klin.
She would only be in my way. I should be dependent upon her.
I can fancy how, like a regular woman, she will lock the money up as soon as she gets it. She will look after her relations and grudge me every farthing.Thematic Essay: The Lottery Ticket by Anton Chekhov Anton Chekhov was very talented in that he could convey well the emotion and the suspense with each and every situation of his stories.
In Anton Chekhov's short story, "The Lottery Ticket", Ivan Dmitritch and his wife imagine the vast splendors that would come had they won the lottery. We hope you enjoy these creative writing prompts! If you’d like to be notified when we add more prompts, don’t forget to Subscribe to our Newsletter!.
ashio-midori.com is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to ashio-midori.com It is used to keep the reader’s attention throughout the story.
For example, in the story the Lottery Ticket, Ivan Dmitrich and his wife check the newspaper to see if they have won the lottery.
They look down the list and find the series number, and without looking at the rest of the number, Ivan starts his planning. Reviews, essays, books and the arts: the leading international weekly for literary culture.
Misc thoughts, memories, proto-essays, musings, etc. And on that dread day, the Ineffable One will summon the artificers and makers of graven images, and He will command them to give life to their creations, and failing, they and their creations will be dedicated to the flames.
The Lottery--Shirley Jackson 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.