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parition. She was terrified. What she felt was fear beyond screaming. She couldn't move, couldn’t run. The figure touched her. Red smoke swirled around her. She felt choked, opressed. When she could see again, the familiar surroundings of home were gone, as was the apparition. She was alone, in a boat. It was pitch black. After a few moments she saw a light up ahead. The boat rounded a curve. She sucked in her breath and fought off a wave of nausea. The sight was horrible. She saw people. It was like a sight out of the Middle Ages. Some were being beaten. Others stretched on something which resembled “the rack”. She looked at the scars on their bodies and closed her eyes.
"This is the torture chamber,” a voice said.
She opened her eyes abruptly as she felt the sting of a whip across her back.
“You will keep your eyes open at all times,” said the voice.
The boat turned again. Darkness was complete.
“Calm down,” she told herself. “This is all a dream."
Yet she knew it was real.
If it hadn’t been for the torture chamber, she would have welcomed the light. But now, she dreaded it.
Again, the curve.
"Oh, my Lord,” she whispered.
“This is our re-enactment of the Salem witch trials of your year 1690.”
It was terrible, like a nightmare. Except, the screams were real as men and women were burned or beaten to death. She couldn’t believe it was real, it wasn’t re-enactment, it wai the Salem witch trials. People were really dying. She could feel the heat of the flames as she passed by. She heard one man scream as he was lowered into a pot of boiling oil.
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