Share compiled by Patrick H. Hansen, who confessed to murdering 17 women and raping 30, mostly in the Alaskan wilderness, died recently at Alaska Regional Hospital after being in declining health for the past year.
Sailors have a curious dread of the place.
"The Most Dangerous Game", also published as "The Hounds of Zaroff" , is a short story by Richard Connell, first published in Collier's on January 19, Author: Richard Connell. short stories We’re here to help unpack the themes, motifs, and main ideas behind some of the greatest work of short fiction, to help you understand the stories of Faulkner, Hemingway, O’Connor, and more. The Most Dangerous Game In the short story titled The Most Dangerous Game written by Richard Connell brings a dark and evil twisted story of murder and chaotic change. The psychological environment and metaphorical surroundings will leave one man dead and the other breathing a sea of relief.
I don't know why. Some superstition--" "Can't see it," remarked Rainsford, trying to peer through the dank tropical night that was palpable as it pressed its thick warm blackness in upon the yacht.
It's like moist black velvet. I hope the jaguar guns have come from Purdey's. We should have some good hunting up the Amazon.
Who cares how a jaguar feels? The fear of pain and the fear of death. The world is made up of two classes--the hunters and the huntees. Luckily, you and I are hunters. Do you think we've passed that island yet?
Even cannibals wouldn't live in such a God-forsaken place. But it's gotten into sailor lore, somehow. Didn't you notice that the crew's nerves seemed a bit jumpy today? Even Captain Nielsen--" "Yes, even that tough-minded old Swede, who'd go up to the devil himself and ask him for a light.
Those fishy blue eyes held a look I never saw there before. Now, you mustn't laugh when I tell you this--I did feel something like a sudden chill.
The sea was as flat as a plate-glass window. We were drawing near the island then. What I felt was a--a mental chill; a sort of sudden dread. But sometimes I think sailors have an extra sense that tells them when they are in danger. Sometimes I think evil is a tangible thing--with wave lengths, just as sound and light have.
An evil place can, so to speak, broadcast vibrations of evil. Anyhow, I'm glad we're getting out of this zone. Well, I think I'll turn in now, Rainsford.
See you at breakfast.
Rainsford, reclining in a steamer chair, indolently puffed on his favorite brier. The sensuous drowsiness of the night was on him. Off to the right he heard it, and his ears, expert in such matters, could not be mistaken.
Again he heard the sound, and again. Somewhere, off in the blackness, someone had fired a gun three times. Rainsford sprang up and moved quickly to the rail, mystified.
He strained his eyes in the direction from which the reports had come, but it was like trying to see through a blanket. He leaped upon the rail and balanced himself there, to get greater elevation; his pipe, striking a rope, was knocked from his mouth.
He lunged for it; a short, hoarse cry came from his lips as he realized he had reached too far and had lost his balance. The cry was pinched off short as the blood-warm waters of the Caribbean Sea dosed over his head.
He struggled up to the surface and tried to cry out, but the wash from the speeding yacht slapped him in the face and the salt water in his open mouth made him gag and strangle.
Desperately he struck out with strong strokes after the receding lights of the yacht, but he stopped before he had swum fifty feet. A certain coolheadedness had come to him; it was not the first time he had been in a tight place.
There was a chance that his cries could be heard by someone aboard the yacht, but that chance was slender and grew more slender as the yacht raced on. He wrestled himself out of his clothes and shouted with all his power. The lights of the yacht became faint and ever-vanishing fireflies; then they were blotted out entirely by the night.
Rainsford remembered the shots. They had come from the right, and doggedly he swam in that direction, swimming with slow, deliberate strokes, conserving his strength.
For a seemingly endless time he fought the sea.The main reason for the fame of the short story is probably its subject, which can be said to range among the most problematic questions for the history of humanity: murder. Connell imagines a different kind of hunt – a human hunt, thus creating almost the effect of a dystopia.
MASTERPLOTS II SHORT STORY SERIES REVISED EDITION Volume 5 Loo-Ope Editor, Revised Edition The Most Dangerous Game—Richard Connell The Mote in the Middle Distance, H*nryJ*m*s—MaxBeerbohm Murderers—Leonard Michaels The Murders in the Rue Morgue—Edgar Allan Poe “The Most Dangerous Game” is a realistic fiction short story written by Richard Connell.
This story conveys the sense of danger, fear, and hatred that prey feel for their predator while making a modern connection to the real world. Serial Killers/Mass Murderers; Aileen Wuornos, Some of you who are ancient like me may have read a short story by Richard Connell first published in in Collier’s called “The Most Dangerous Game”.
The Most Dangerous Game Essay The Most Dangerous Game In the short story titled The Most Dangerous Game written by Richard Connell brings a dark and evil twisted story of murder and chaotic change The psychological environment and metaphorical surroundings will leave one man dead and the other breathing a sea of relief.
"I've always thought," said Rainsford, "that the Cape buffalo is the most dangerous of all big game." For a moment the general did not reply; he was smiling his curious red-lipped smile. Then he said slowly, "No. You are wrong, sir. The Cape buffalo is not the most dangerous big game." He sipped his wine.