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One day, an old fakir decided to open a shop in an alley near the market square. He sold enchanted artifacts. Anyone who had heard of it either thought the fakir was crazy or a scammer, so customers were a rare occurrence in the shop. At least until one day that is.Tom Ptolemy wasn’t the kind of man to go out much. To most, he was something of a hermit. What nobody knew was that every other day he would drive into the big city for work at one of the largest banks of the town. Up there, he was notorious for being ruthless. Clients would often leave in tears or their wallets in shambles. Greedy as a pig, you could say. He was also extremely frugal. He built his own hut in the middle of the woods by the cemetery and merely decorated it with fallen leaves. He never went into the market’s unless he absolutely had to, in order to avoid temptation. So yeah, the man didn’t go out much. This particular day was different though. Tom could feel something calling him to the market, into the creepy alleyway, inside of the old fakir’s shabby shop. The call was stronger than ever once in the shore. Tom meandered around for a while until he saw it, the monkey’s paw. It lay on an old looking chest. When Tom lifted up the paw, he could seen an outline of dust where it had been. He was to entranced to acknowledge it though. He was to fixated on the feeling of the thing in his hand. The paw was cold and dried, but Tom swore he could almost feel a pulse. He immediately took it to the clerk for purchase. While the fakir was delighted to finally have someone actually buy an item from his shop, he felt he should at least warn about the dangers of this artifact. “Wait, sir, I need to tell you something!” called the fakir.Tom sighed, “If you’re going to try to hype up this item and make me pay some outrageous price you can save it. I don’t want to hear it. Just give me a fair price and I’ll be on my way.”“I have no intention of such a thing. Though, I must say sir, you do have a fine eye—but I cannot let you purchase this without some knowledge about it. I would not feel right letting you leave uneducated.” The fakir moved to block the door.“Fine then, go on, but hurry.” Said Tom resignedly. “This paw will grant you three wishes of your choice, with no limit to what you can wish for. The only catch is that the paw has a way of getting compensation for these wishes, essentially, whatever you wish for will have a consequence.” “That’s it?” Tom replied.“Yes, that is all I have to say. What is next to come is all on you.”Tom bolted out the door with a start, tossing all his pocket money onto the counter. Which, of course, was just a dollar. The old fakir ran out of the store, enraged at the meager payment for such an artifact. Tom was nowhere sight however, and the fakir decided he wasn’t in good enough condition to track him down. Tom took a breather when he got to the middle of the cemetery. It was then that he realized took a second to reflect on himself and consider what he might wish for. He thought of the obvious options first. Higher salary, fame. But he thought he should start with something simple. He wasn’t necessarily a fan of his job, even if he did like tearing apart his clients and doubted anything would happen anyway, so it was worth a shot. He lifted the paw closer to his face, as though he was speaking into a mic he stated, “I wish to never work again.” With that, he continued his walk to his hut. Dark clouds had formed in the sky by the time he got back into his house. Before doing anything else, he hopped in the shower. If the wish worked, he wouldn’t have to go to work the next day, and Tom was excited about that. He could hear thunder from outside, it must have started raining when he got in the shower. Suddenly, lightning struck him. In a flash, he felt his entire life go by, his body aged rapidly. Every ache and ailment he should have felt over the years to come was now rushing over him at rapid pace. It was excruciating. By the time the process was over, Tom could barely step out of the tub. In fact, when he managed to, he fell over onto the floor. He grimaced, as he felt something break. Tom swore he could hear faint laughter at his pain. He wanted to cry but his ability to do even that had gone with his age it seemed.What felt like an hour passed before he thought of his next move. The idea hit him like the lightning bolt. The paw. Tom realized he could use it make himself young again. With newfound determination he flipped himself off of his back and army crawled to his room next door. To his misfortune, the paw lay on the nightstand out of reach. Using all his might, he rose to his knees and reached out to grab it when suddenly, his arthritis struck. Now more than ever desperate, he used his hand to push it closer to himself. When it was at a comfortable distance, he lay his hand on it to make his wish. “I wish for my youth back.” In an instant, he began rapidly de-aging, which was just as just as excruciating as the former. At least this time he had the image in his mind that he would return to normal, which instilled new joy in him. To his dismay, he hit the age he had hoped for and then kept going down. The process only ended when he could go no farther—one. The despair of his newfound situation was enough to make him start crying like the baby he had taken the form of. Now rendered cold, wet, and hopeless, Tom resigned himself to this being the way he dies. That was until he remembered the paw. He crawled his little body other to where the paw had fallen from the nightstand when he shrank and uttered his final words.“I wish for a painless and instant death.” A couple of days later, Tom’s only friend, Sergent-Major Morris, came to check on him after not hearing from Tom for a while but when he got to the house the air seemed off. Knowing the door didn’t have a lock, he pulled it open and entered to investigate further. Once inside, it seemed as if the home had not seen life in days. It was colder than usual, and cobwebs had already formed in the corners. Undiscouraged, the Sergent continued his path up the stairs. The first thing he saw was a trail of water leading from the bathroom to Tom’s bedroom. He followed the trail into his friend’s room and was shocked to discover what saw. There lay a baby clutching a monkey’s paw to its chest, curled up on the floor. Morris crept over to the figure--the baby had to be Tom, it couldn’t be anyone else—and swiped the paw out of its hand. The baby—Tom—just stayed stiff, rigor mortis having set in. The Sergent examined the paw closer, he knew it had to be cursed, he’d heard stories about the few people who had made purchases at the old fakir’s shop. Nonetheless, he shoved the wretched thing into his pocket for safe keeping. Instantaneously, he got an impulse to run away, but he knew he shouldn’t leave his friend there. It would just be rude. For an honorable goodbye, he decided to place to Tom inside of a cushioned box and bury him outside of the house with a pack of the home-rolled cigarettes and a single dollar bill. “Rest in peace, old friend.” The man whispered before walking back to his car and driving into the distance, no end in sight.