The pause is an exceedingly important feature in any
kind of story, and a frequently recurring feature,
too. It is a dainty thing, and delicate, and
also uncertain and treacherous; for it must be exactly
the right length—no more and no less—or
it fails of its purpose and makes trouble. If
the pause is too short the impressive point is passed,
and the audience have had time to divine that a surprise
is intended—and then you can’t surprise
them, of course.
On the platform I used to tell a negro ghost story
that had a pause in front of the snapper on the end,
and that pause was the most important thing in the
whole story. If I got it the right length precisely,
I could spring the finishing ejaculation with effect
enough to make some impressible girl deliver a startled
little yelp and jump out of her seat—and
that was what I was after. This story was called
“The Golden Arm,” and was told in this
fashion. You can practice with it yourself—and
mind you look out for the pause and get it right.
THE GOLDEN ARM
Once ’pon a time dey wuz a momsus mean man,
en he live ’way out in de prairie all ’lone
by hisself, ’cep’n he had a wife.
En bimeby she died, en he tuck en toted her way out
dah in de prairie en buried her. Well, she had
a golden arm—all solid gold, fum de shoulder
down. He wuz pow’ful mean—pow’ful;
en dat night he couldn’t sleep, caze he want
dat golden arm so bad.
When it come midnight he couldn’t stan’
it no mo’; so he git up, he did, en tuck his
lantern en shoved out thoo de storm en dug her up
en got de golden arm; en he bent his head down ’gin
de ’win, en plowed en plowed en plowed thoo
de snow. Den all on a sudden he stop (make a
considerable pause here, and look startled, and take
a listening attitude) en say: “My lan’,
what’s dat?”
En he listen—en listen—en de
win’ say (set your teeth together and imitate
the wailing and wheezing singsong of the wind), “Bzzz-z-zzz”—en
den, way back yonder whah de grave is, he hear a voice!—he
hear a voice all mix’ up in de win’—can’t
hardly tell ’em ’part—“Bzzz—zzz—W-h-o—g-o-t—m-y—g-o-l-d-e-n
arm?” (You must begin to shiver violently
now.)
En he begin to shiver en shake, en say, “Oh,
my! Oh, my lan’!” en de win’
blow de lantern out, en de snow en sleet blow in his
face en mos’ choke him, en he start a-plowin’
knee-deep toward home mos’ dead, he so sk’yerd—en
pooty soon he hear de voice agin, en (pause) it ’us
comin after him! “Bzzz—zzz—zzz
W-h-o—g-o-t—m-y—g-o-l-d-e-n—arm?”
When he git to de pasture he hear it agin—closter
now, en A-comin’!—a-comin’
back dah in de dark en de storm—(repeat
the wind and the voice). When he git to de house
he rush upstairs en jump in de bed en kiver up, head
and years, en lay da shiverin’ en shakin’—en
den way out dah he hear it agin!—en
a-comin’! En bimeby he hear (pause—awed,
listening attitude)—pat—pat—pat
hit’s A-comin’ upstairs!
Den he hear de latch, en he know it’s in
de room!
Copyrights
The 30,000 Dollar Bequest and Other Stories from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
