A history of Torture

We are so fortunate to live in a so-called civilized world; in a time when if caught breaking the rules at least we’re treated humanely.

I mean, supposed you were caught going over the speed limit? You may get a ticket or be forced to pay a fine. For a more serious crime one might be sent to jail or even prison. Even so, there are regulations in place to prevent harsh and cruel punishment.

 

But for those unfortunate souls born centuries ago that wasn’t always the case.

 

Let’s revisit some strange but true horrific tortures endured during a time when if you were caught doing the unthinkable, there really was hell to pay.

 

In 1535 the penalty for blasphemy was to have the tongue torn out. Antoine Poile has his tongue pierced and nailed to his cheek before being burnt alive in front of a blood-thirsty crowd.

 

Gee…these days I see young people of all ages gladly walking around with tongue piercings having chosen to wear a polished steel post ripped right through the middle of their tongue.

 

Torture by heat and fire seemed to be a method used often. Being burned at the stake or strung over a blazing bed of coals by those seeking justice was no doubt a horrifying experience. During the 16^th century in the southern Netherland, a victim was laid on his back with a large iron dish resting on his belly. A roaring fire was then lit and kept going until the dish burrowed into the entrails.

 

Ouch!!

 

If heat isn’t bad enough some went a different route and used Water torture. Always available and easily handled, torturers have used h20 in a variety of ways. The easiest would be to force the victim to simply drink. And drink…and drink…and drink until the victim becomes bloated and soon the belly becomes engorged, drum-like. The pain becomes intense. A victim has even been known to have water leak out of his nose and ears!

 

And there was that little contraption called ‘The Rack.’ A form of the rack- one that was popular in Germany- caused the victim to be not only stretched, but drawn at the same time over a succession of sharply studded rollers!

 

Some victims were attached to the rack by their thumbs and big toes.

 

And it wasn’t just men being punished. Women were tortured as well. Especially those caught…’um, let's say doing things they shouldn’t.

For those there was a thing called The Iron Maiden.

Shudder!

A collection of antiques once owned by the Baron Diedrich was unearthed in 1832. It had a cone-like body formed of sheet iron, topped with a female shaped head. The front opened allowing the victim to be placed inside. Protruding spikes were positioned so that as the doors were gradually closed, they pierced the lady’s organs. Two nasty nails were placed higher up inside the mask so that when the iron head snapped into place….


 

Whew!

 

Being punished is certainly a bummer, and at times can be an inconvenience. But it sure beats being tortured.

 

These fascinating facts were found in The History of Torture, an awesome book by Brian Innes.

Iron Maiden photo was found at Wikipeadia.

 

 

 

Hooray for Happy Meals!

2007 WICKED WITCH OF THE WEST

MADAME ALEXANDER DOLL MCDONALD'S HAPPY MEAL: WIZARD OF OZ

 

This adorable doll strangely enough is called The Wicked Witch and part of a collection of eight in the series of The Wizard of Oz created specially for MacDonalds. Although this photo doesn't do her justice because actually her skin is a soft mint green and complements her sparkling emerald eyes and black lashes.  

 

Can you believe this lovely doll came tucked inside a MacDonald happy meal box? Wow! Happy meals are more than just dinner in a box, but a real treasure chest. And this little gem is from one of the finest doll maker in history!

Madame Alexander Dolls

 

In 1923 Madame Beatrice Alexander founded the Alexander Doll Company. The daughter of Russian immigrants, Beatrice was born in Brooklyn, New York on March 9, 1895.

 

 

 

 

Raised above her father’s doll hospital (yes, for real! ) and the first of its kind in America, Beatrice developed a passion for handcrafting quality dolls, each painstakingly designed, beautiful, and award winning. Madame Alexander dolls delight children and collectors the world over.

 

And who knows children better than MacDonald’s?

 

 

The other day while cleaning out the toybox I found Woody and Buzz Lightyear, soft cloth twelve inch dolls I remember my son simply had to have.

MacDonald's has made some awesome and memorable toys that remind me of sticky back seats, smeared windows and scattered fries.  

 

And for a few bucks I was a hero.

 

The inspiration behind my Trashy potato recipe

 

 

As you can see gardening has always been a family affair around here. This picture’s an old one but always makes me smile. My son and granddaughter were sitting front and center watching Jim work in the garden. Earlier in the day I had tossed out some leftover cornbread for the chickens and gave one chunk to our beagle who’s always looking for a handout. Pretty soon the dog was traipsing across the freshly turned earth carrying the chunk in his mouth. About mid-way down a row, he dropped the bread and covered it with the dirt then ran off.

The kids flopped backwards onto the ground laughing and yelled across the yard, “Snippy’s planting cornbread!”

 

 

 

 

My all time favorite vegetable is the red Pontiac potatoes because of the delicate thin skin and delicious sweet taste, especially when dug at the ‘new’ potato stage. The skin on the potatoes are loaded with vitamins so I usually cook them in their jackets.

And I'm sure by now you know that I’ve been lucky enough to have this recipe included in the Passionate Cooks cookbook. I purposely titled the recipe Trashy Taters because 1. it's very eye catching and 2. you  really can add, sprinkle, or toss anything into the spuds during the last stages of cooking. I've used scrabbled eggs and fresh green  onions & crumbled sausage. Or you might want to try them topped with Hormel Chili and cheese.

Really...whatever trips your trigger!

Here’s the recipe and I hope you’ll try it.


Ingredients

3-4 med. Potatoes       salt, pepper, garlic powder  (to taste)

½ cup shredded cheddar cheese

½ bacon pieces

Ranch dressing

 

 

3 or 4 medium size redskin potatoes –scrubbed and quartered 

In a medium size sauce pan add potatoes and bring to boil, cook for 10 minutes. Drain.

Melt 3 Tbsp margarine in a skillet, add par-boiled potatoes. Sprinkle with salt, course ground pepper and garlic powder to taste. Allow to cook over medium heat, browning well on one side before turning achieving a crispy brown coating.  Cook aprox. 10-15 minutes until fork tender. When potatoes are golden brown and fork tender add ½ cup shredded cheddar cheese (or any type of shredded cheese) and ½ cup real bacon pieces. Cover potatoes with a lid for about 2 minutes or until cheese is melted.

 Serves 4

Serve with ranch dressing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What if...a writer's passion

I love the game What if? To a writer it's the gas for our creativity. Finding that what if notion and.... 



 

Writing is an opportunity to be anywhere in the world with people I adore- the characters. My characters. After all, they are my babies. I gave them their physical appearence as well as characteristic traits that appeal to me. And if I'm lucky, to those who read my stories.

My novella, Night Bird, actually was inspired by a song. A haunting melody filled with beautiful lyrics about a woman who found a man down on his luck in New Orleans and she took him in. The words in the song claim she taught him how to fly. So, she must be paranormal, right? Part of the undead. And that's how my what if took flight.   :  ) 

 

The afterlife…or new life, as I like to think of it. And that got my writer’s muse considering all kinds of things that could be possible if only we believe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s an excerpt from the short story Night Bird.

 

 

 

A crashing wave knocked Emma off her feet and plunged her beneath the water, grains of sand biting her skin as the gushing tide tossed her upon the shore. She struggled to break the ocean’s grip, her sodden skirt throttling her ankles as she tried to stand. Another rushing wave pushed her to her knees. A heavy object slammed against her side and drove them both aground.

     A man.

     Foamy bubbles gathered in a small pool of water where his body lay indented in the sand. Her heart roared in her ears, drowning out the pounding surf. In the past, she’d witnessed countless felons jump ship rather than face the adversity of chains, starvation, and brutal prison beatings. Many saw the island’s wide cove as a passage to freedom and often died trying to swim across.

The dark shape lay unmoving beside her. After only a brief glance she knew he was different. He had strong, classic feature and a think robust body. She couldn’t squelch her curiosity. Who was this man? A ship’s captain, perhaps? Or a meager fisherman with a run of bad luck? Maybe he’d ignored the dangerous winds and threatening clouds, driven by the greed she’d seen in eyes of other men. Fishing boats of all sizes had been destroyed upon the deceptive coral reefs, led on by the tempestuous sea witch that lured them beyond the next horizon.

      Emma pushed aside the drenched charcoal locks covering the man’s eyes and revealed thick brows and a strong forehead. His cheeks bore stubbles of whiskers.

   The white tailored shirt, although frayed and worn, was that of a whaleman sailor, its hem floating up to expose heavy, coarse trousers. Suddenly, his fingers caught the fabric of her bodice and gave the slightest tug to draw her near.

      “Help me,” he pleaded, his voice barely more than a whisper as his arm dropped to his side.

       Moisture blurred her vision at the helplessness she’d heard, the desperation that filled his eyes. She blinked back tears. How much longer must she witness death? Emma was unable to actually save life, but could offer a brief reprieve for the tormented lost one. Usually the men she encountered were the blackest of the lot: convicts, murderers, and thieves were among those needing her most.

         But this man’s appearance didn’t seem to be that of a weak or starved convict. Instead, his body looked firm, reasonably fit. Perhaps the made his living on the water. Lately, she’d witnessed many Yankee whalers drawn to the Pacific, all eager to fill their casks with valuable sperm oil.

     His breath came out weak and unsure as his chest labored and fell. A strong will to survive etched deep across his face and the vulnerable expression played on her heart. He was someone’s son, perhaps a father, but clearly a man unable to let go. With each painful gasp, his eyes pleaded, asking the impossible.

    But she knew…death was inescapable. It was the after life she hoped to change.  Already the icy water had stiffened his body, his breathing faltered. Emma measure each one his last. Even if she did manage to warm him, he would die of fever, the life-taking chill never leaving his body.

      He’d asked for her help…but was his need to survive strong enough to carry the burden to eternity?

    Precious seconds passed. The uneven rise and fall of his chest warned her it was nearly too late. Is she didn’t decide soon, he’d be left to face the judgment he’d earned in life without having the chance to reconcile whatever desperate burdens were holding him back.

     Emma lowered her head. No breath came from his lips, his eyes faded as death stole over him. Swiftly, she pressed her lips against his neck; a metallic taste filled her mouth when she pierced his skin. It took only seconds to exchange his blood with the substance flowing in her veins. The wind howled in protest and sprayed them with a mist of salt-drenched water while the waves crashed around them.

     It seemed forever and then…he moved.

     “My crewman. Where is my crew?” he whispered.

    Although his eyes shone with gratitude, would he still be grateful after learning the conditions of his survival?