The Torture Chamber
Written by David Barth, January 8, 1985
The idea for this story came about on January 8, 1985. It was an attempt at writing a story with a surprise
ending.
We waited to enter the large room. I dreaded going into it more than anything. What had I done to deserve this horrible fate? Surely the tortures of the Spanish
Inquisition had been tame compared to the pain and suffering I was about to experience.
The others seemed resigned to this experience. Some actually appeared to look forward to entering the torture chamber. I would have to be a masochist to welcome
the horrors in store for me during the next couple of hours.
I wondered if the time would ever come when I wouldn't have to go through this. That would probably be when I was dead. At least, brain dead.
Finally, it was time for us to go into the chamber. We stood up and filed into the room. Guards monitored our progress as we passed through the doorway.
The chamber was poorly lighted, and it was cold and humid. I shivered, knowing that the spasms of pain that were in store for me would make me
forget the cold.
In the background, a slow dirge was playing. Its slow melody seemed inconsistent with the fierce, crippling agony that I was about to experience.
I gritted my teeth, anticipating the gripping shock that would resemble a red hot knife cutting my flesh. We began moving around the room. I saw some
of the others fall. Suddenly, a sharp spasm of pain hit me, and I, too, fell down. I didn't want to get up. I wanted to lie there and die. I didn't want to get
up to experience the excruciating distress once more. But I had to. A guard approached. I struggled to get up, and again began milling with the others.
The torture was almost unbearable.
Between sharp twinges of hellish agony, I tried to keep from falling. I wasn't always successful. Again and again, I fell. Inwardly, I screamed.
Finally, an announcement blared over a loudspeaker. Mercifully, we filed out of the dank chamber. I was limping, sweat dripping from my face. I slumped
onto a hard bench, exhausted.
I removed my boots and limped out to the car. Another session of breaking in my new ice skate boots was over.
This story was written after I had purchased a new pair of S. P. Terri ice skating boots and was attempting to break them in.