The pit and the pendulum story online. The Pit and the Pendulum 2022-11-03
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The Pit and the Pendulum is a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, first published in 1843. The story follows the first-person narrator, who is being held prisoner by the Spanish Inquisition and sentenced to death by torture.
As the story begins, the narrator finds himself in a dark and damp cell, with no way of determining how much time has passed or how long he has been imprisoned. He is strapped to a table and left alone, but soon begins to hear the sound of a pendulum swinging above him. The sound becomes louder and louder, until the pendulum appears above him, swinging back and forth just inches from his face.
As the pendulum swings closer and closer to the narrator, he realizes that it is a torture device designed to cut him in half. Desperate to escape, he begins to thrash about and struggle against his restraints, but to no avail.
Just when it seems that the pendulum will surely cut him in half, the narrator notices a pit in the floor beneath him. He realizes that this is his only chance for escape, and he begins to use all of his strength to try and throw himself into the pit.
After what seems like an eternity, the narrator finally succeeds in throwing himself into the pit, narrowly avoiding the swing of the pendulum. He falls into darkness, and when he awakens, he finds himself lying on the floor of his cell, surrounded by his tormentors.
It is revealed that the entire ordeal was a hallucination, brought on by the extreme psychological and physical torture that the narrator had endured while in captivity. The pit and the pendulum were simply figments of his imagination, but the terror and desperation he felt were all too real.
The Pit and the Pendulum is a chilling and suspenseful tale that explores the depths of human suffering and the power of the human mind to cope with even the most unbearable circumstances. It is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, and a reminder of the darkness that lurks within us all.
The Pit and the Pendulum by Michael Story
Could I resist its glow? This was free only from the elbow to the hand. Neither could I forget what I had read of these pits — that the suddenextinction of life formed no part of their most horrible plan. After that, the sound of the inquisitorial voices seemed merged in one dreamy indeterminate hum. And then my vision fell upon the seven tall candles upon the table. At first they wore the aspect of charity, and seemed white slender angels who would save me: but then all at once there came a most deadly nausea over my spirit, and I felt every fibre in my frame thrill, as if I had touched the wire of a galvanic battery, while the angel forms became meaningless spectres, with heads of flame, and I saw that from them there would be no help. A suffocating odour pervaded the prison! Now our homeland is safe, the funereal cave destroyed, and life and health appear where dreadful death once was.
Short Stories: The Pit and the Pendulum by Edgar Allan Poe
Then a rushing revival of soul and a successful effort to move. I had little object—certainly no hope these researches; but a vague curiosity prompted me to continue them. Like a razor also, it seemed massy and heavy, tapering from the edge into a solid and broad structure above. A deeper glow settled each moment in the eyes that glared at my agonies! So, at least I thought: but I had not counted upon the extent of the dungeon, or upon my own weakness. Poe imagines a series of terrifying events leading up to that conclusion.
Amid the thought of the fiery destruction that impended, the idea of the coolness of the well came over my soul like balm. Down - still unceasingly - still inevitably down! An outstretched arm caught my own as I fell fainting into the abyss. It seems probable that if, upon reaching the second stage, we could recall the impressions of the first, we should find these impressionseloquent in memories of the gulf beyond. I had met, however, with many angles in the wall, and thus I could form no guess at the shape of the vault; for vault I could not help supposing it to be. Such a supposition, notwithstanding what we read in fiction, is altogether inconsistent with real existence;—but where and in what state was I? I tore a part of the hem from the robe, and placed the fragment at full length, and at right angles to the wall. I tore a part of the hem from the robe and placed the fragment at full length, and at right angles to the wall. And now, as I still continued to step cautiously onward, there came thronging upon my recollection a thousand vague rumors of the horrors of My outstretched hands at length encountered some solid obstruction.
With the particles of the oily and spicy viand which now remained I thoroughly rubbed the bandage wherever I could reach it; then raising my hand from the floor, I lay breathlessly still. Notwithstanding its terrifically wide sweep some thirty feet or more and the hissing vigour of its descent, sufficient to sunder these very walls of iron, still the fraying of my robe would be all that, for several minutes, it would accomplish; and at this thought I paused. My outstretched hands at length encountered some solid obstruction. I saw that the crescent was designed to cross the region of the heart. Its black, never-ending abyss signifies the depths of the classic image of hell, wherein the narrator is apparently being condemned for his crimes in radicalism.
They appeared to me white - whiter than the sheet upon which I trace these words - and thin even to grotesqueness; thin with the intensity of their expression of firmness - of immovable resolution - of stern contempt of human torture. I could reach the latter, from the platter beside me to my mouth with great effort, but no farther. The plunge into this pit I had avoided by the merest of accidents, and I knew that surprise or entrapment into torment formed an important portion of all the grotesquerie of these dungeon deaths. I grew frantically mad, and struggled to force myself upwards against the sweep of the fearful scimitar. I shrank from the glowing metal to the centre of the cell. Forth from the well they hurried in fresh troops. The sentence had passed; and it appeared to me that a very long interval of time had since elapsed.
At first they wore the aspect of charity, and seemed white slender angels who would save me; but then, all at once, there came a most deadly nausea over my spirit, and I felt every fibre in my frame thrill as if I had touched the wire of a galvanic battery, while the angel forms became meaningless spectres, with heads of flame, and I saw that from them there would be no help. I had been deceived, too, in respect to the shape of the enclosure. Examples: "deep sleep," "hum of human voices," "descent of the crescent" ALL CAPS: Poe's demonstrative technique of highlighting key words for us in all capital letters is very effective. But the stroke of the pendulum already pressed upon my bosom. So, at least, I thought; but I had not counted upon the extent of the dungeon, or upon my own weakness.
At a wave of my hand my deliverers hurried tumultuously away. Down--still unceasingly--still inevitably down! The surcingle enveloped my limbs and body close in all directions save SAVE IN THE PATH OF THE DESTROYING CRESCENT. The sentence had passed; and it appeared to me that a very long interval of time had since elapsed. Shortly afterward, I resumed my tour around the prison, and with much toil came at last upon the fragment of the serge. In another room, the man is tied to a table over which a sharp blade swings, gradually lowering until it almost chops him in half.
I still lay quietly, and made effort to exercise my reason. What of it there remained I will not attempt to define, or even to describe; yet all was not lost. In the deepest slumber — no! Blackwood's magazine in 1830. On the deepest slumber - no! I put forward my arm, and shuddered to find that I had fallen at the very brink of a circular pit, whose extent, of course, I had no means of ascertaining at the moment. It was appended to a weighty rod of brass, and the whole hissed as it swung through the air.
In one of its panels a very singular figure riveted my whole attention. I saw the lips of the black-robed judges. There could be no doubt of the design of my tormentors — oh! I struggled no more, but the agony of my soul found vent in one loud, long, and final scream of despair. Witch Hunts in the Western World: Persecution and Punishment from the Inquisition through the Salem Trials. Yet, for a while, I saw; but with how terrible an exaggeration! I saw that some ten or twelve vibrations would bring the steel in actual contact with my robe, and with this observation there suddenly came over my spirit all the keen, collected calmness of despair. This I at once saw could not be. Paired Reading Suggestions Compare and contrast the gothic literary elements in The Fall of the House of Usher is more of a journey of psychological terror, rather than this story's physical terror of the senses.
