“The Lottery” is certainly one of the most famous works by Shirley Jackson. Published in 1949, its salacious content proved to be of some controversy. Unlike the previous two stories, the nature of the fear is obvious on a superficial level. What kind of town keeps on a tradition of stoning a member every year? That is, without question, a terrifying notion. Yet even before we know the nature of the lottery, Jackson presents the reader with a very mundane setting, filled with small talk and typical old men complaining about how traditions are dying. The tone is similar to “Charles,” in that the reader isn’t sure what to expect. The nature of the writing is not overt fear, but anticipation. When looking back at the interactions, though, the anticipation of the villagers does not resonate terror. Tessie Hutchinson, in particular, comes in with a jovial nature, the same dedication to civic duty one would have on voting day.

     “‘Get up there, Bill,’ Mrs. Hutchinson said, and the people near her laughed” (297).

This is a part of their tradition and despite their complete knowledge, they do not show fear. It is a town that has been conditioned to believe this is important to their identity. Rather than the protagonist or narrator evoking tension, it is the readers’ reactions to the apathy within the villagers’ identities. The terror is in the act itself, but driven home by the inability for anyone to do anything about it and the lack of desire to do so.

     It isn’t until Tessie pleads for her life that we see any sense of removal from the group mentality. A character once a proponent of tradition is then stripped of that role within seconds; her identity now in the past. Once again, it is the perspective of everyone else that provides the fear. No one is phased. No one fights for her life. Next year, they will do it all again.