Small town museums fall into many classifications. Some are dusty collections of local history that can bore even the most active brains into a coma. Others are amusing assemblies of whimsical moments from history. Many attempt to be educational, some succeed and some fail. Some even manage to be creepy and disturbing in the exhibits that they chose commemorate the past. The Niceville Historical Archive (NHA) managed to fulfill all of those categories.
Yoda was in Niceville on vacation with her parents when the NHA came to her attention. She had no intention of visiting, museums really aren’t of interest to her, until she heard about some of the contents. An aunt they were visiting was recommending various local points of interest to visit and suggested the NHA but with a disclaimer. She said ‘Don’t go into the room where they keep all of the stuff from the NMHF. When you see the sign just pass it by. It is just too disturbing to look at.’
Yoda, who finds things of an odd nature amusing, looked up NMHF on the internet. She found a newspaper article on the Niceville Mental Health Facility. The commentary explained that it was an asylum for the “mentally compromised” that stood for many years on the outskirts of town. The methods used were the most modern and humane available at the time but amounted to nothing more than torture by today’s medical standards. That fascinated Yoda.
When the hospital was torn down many years ago a few former workers were on the museum board of directors. They tabled a motion at the annual meeting that the sanatorium be remembered with an exhibit of some of the equipment. The more sensible members were against it but they were outnumbered by the more sentimental members who had a distorted recollection of what this equipment stood for.
The exhibit was created and opened to the public who were shocked and dismayed to say the least. The NMHF Wing soon became known locally as the “Chamber of Horrors”. Yoda knew she had to see it.
The last day of the visit was to be a tour around the outlying agricultural area to visit a number of ancient relatives that her parents had never actually met before. When her aunt described them as “fossils who are too old to die” Yoda knew she had to find a way to get out of going along. Fortunately her mother had been subjected to similar abuse when she was young and sympathized.
‘If you can find something better to do’ she told Yoda ‘you don’t have to come along.’
‘I want to see the museum’ she replied ‘it sounds fascinating.’
“Fascinating” wasn’t a word that came to her mother. To her it sounded more like “bullshit”. She couldn’t imagine her daughter finding anything of interest in a musty old building. She knew that if Yoda was willing to tell such a blatant lie she must really want to avoid the “fossil tour”. She said okay.
The next day, as the car carrying her parents off to eternal boredom pulled away, Yoda stood in front of the NHA where they had dropped her off and waved good bye. Mom looked back expecting to see Yoda running like hell as fast as she could away from there. She was mildly shocked to see her turn and enter.
Yoda dropped her admission donation into an old pickle jar at the entrance and picked up a tattered faded photocopy of the “Self-Guided Tour”. It had a map of the maze of rooms and a list of the exhibits. There was only one that she wanted to see and she headed directly for the NMHF Wing.
It was all she expected it to be. There were hand cranked generators for the electroshock therapy machines. Wires and cables and clamps sprouted from tarnished tin boxes. There were surgical tools used for lobotomies. Wheel chairs with wrist and ankle shackles and straightjackets. These were all enthralling to Yoda but she gave them only a quick glance as she walked more or less directly to the one thing she had hoped to see.
A large heavy looking bedframe stood along one wall. Its white enameled metal tubes were chipped and scratched from many years of use. The flat mattress looked uncomfortable but it was the last thing anyone using it would notice; they had more urgent things to think about.
At each corner affixed to the bed posts were wide brown leather straps. At the end of each strap was a leather cuff lined with thick white felt. Each cuff had a smaller strap around it that had a shiny brass buckle to tighten it around an ankle or wrist. Similar long straps hung down the sides to the floor. Two for the legs, one for the waist and another for across the chest.
At the top of the bed lying on the pillow was a collar on a tether that was attached to the head board.
Yoda wondered how many wretched patients had been bound to that bed and subjected to the “miracles of modern psychiatric medicine” that the small brass plaque proclaimed were performed by the “caring staff of the NMHF”.
She tried to imagine what it would be like to be wrestled onto the bed and held down by attendees who stretched her limbs to their limits while the nurses secured each of the straps. She imagined thrashing and turning and twisting all to no avail. The thought gave her goose bumps.
The noise of shuffling feet behind her pulled her out of her daydream. She looked back to see a class of school children entering the room. They were led by an antique guide who appeared to be at least 200 years old. Bringing up the rear was a younger woman, most likely their teacher.
The Old Guy pulled a shabby white doctor’s coat off of a hook on the wall and put it on. Then he started his “I remember when speech”. The kids tuned him out as they looked from one meaningless display to another trying desperately to find anything of interest. Even their natural curiosity was challenged to the point of failure.
Yoda was the only one who paid attention. She hoped his recollections would extend to accounts of restraining patients, which was her primary interest, but as a doctor his subjects were fully compliant before he treated them.
She was about to slip out to return later when she could be alone when he walked over to stand beside her at the bed. Actually he just about stood on top of her. His shoulder was against hers and she could smell the horrid combination of cheap aftershave and mothballs. She tried to move away but he put his arm around her and pulled her close again.
‘This is Betty’ he said ‘she is our new intern. I’ve asked her to meet us here to help me with a demonstration.’ The kids stared at Yoda. Her low cut red tank top, denim shorts and flip-flops were not the standard uniform of a museum guide. They were skeptical.
Yoda was about to correct him when he continued to talk. Being too polite to interrupt she waited for him to finish.
‘Our little museum may seem old fashioned but we try to be as up to date as we can. Like many other institutions we like to be a “hands on” sort of organization. I can’t let you use the electroshock gear or the surgical equipment but with the help of Betty we can use the bed here.’
‘Betty, if you would please, get onto the bed and the kids can relive Niceville history.’
Yoda forgot about correcting him, for the immediate future she was now Betty. She kicked off her flip-flops and hopped onto the bed. It was as uncomfortable as it looked, maybe more so.
The teacher was a little perturbed about the idea of 10 and 11 year olds learning how to “restraint a mental patient” but before she could voice any objections the kids swooped down on Yoda/Betty.
Yoda was thrilled as little hands clutched at her pulling her arms and legs to their extremes. Cuffs were wrapped around her wrists and ankles and buckles were fastened tight. Straps were tossed from one side of the bed to the other and yanked firmly across her body pinning her down.
Yoda looked up and her eyes met those of the teacher who was watching with amusement. Then she walked over to the bed. She picked up the collar and put it around Yoda’s neck. She wrapped it around Yoda’s neck snuggly and then pulled it once more before fastening it. It was very tight and Yoda could just barely breathe normally but she never once thought to complain; she loved it.
Old Guy came over and checked each buckle, snugging a few and giving a nod of approval to the others. Yoda would have given the class an A Plus for their efforts. Each limb was pulled to the limit and held securely, she was helpless and she loved it.
Then one young lad reached out. His fingertips touched the bare sole of Yoda’s foot. The jolt of energy that rocked her body was as intense as the electroshock but in a pleasant way. The others joined in. Little fingers stroked her feet and her sides and her ears and chin.
Yoda laughed loud and hard. Her body tried to twist and turn but there was nowhere for it to go. She was at their mercy and right now they had none as they explored every ticklish inch of her body. Old Guy and the teacher both stood back and watched with big smiles at the enjoyment the kids were having.
‘What’s with all the noise in here?’ a raised voice demanded to know from behind them. The tickling stopped and everyone turned. A young woman in a proper uniform had entered the room. ‘Who are you’ said Old Guy.
‘I’m Betty, the new intern.’ The Old Guy looked very surprised but then acted quickly to cover his mistake. He opened a drawer and pulled out a long wooden screw sort of thing.
‘I have one more thing to show the kids’ he said ‘before we move on.’
He pinched Yoda’s nose shut and when she opened her mouth to breath he shoved it in. He pushed it hard and the long tapered point went to the back of her mouth and into her throat. The fat end pushed against her teeth. He gave it a few twists and it screwed itself firmly into her mouth holding it wide open, blocking it and depressing her tongue. Yoda was able to suppress her gag-reflex but there was no way she could speak at all.
‘Come along kids, let’s move along, lots to see’ said Old Guy ‘everyone follow Betty.’
They filed out of the room and left Yoda bound and gagged and alone. She tried to push at the gag with her tongue. It had no strap and should have popped out she thought but her teeth were deeply imbedded in the threads and it didn’t budge. She stared at the ceiling, helpless and loving it.
Then the sound of high heels clicking in the hallway got louder until they entered the room. Yoda looked to see that the teacher had returned. In an act of kindness she was back to release the poor girl, or so Yoda thought.
Teacher stood beside the bed for a moment and then said ‘With all those kids going crazy on you I never got a chance.’
She began to slowly and deliberately tickle Yoda’s sides. Her long nails scratched in the most exciting way. Yoda tensed up and bit hard on the gag as waves of intense energy swept over her. It felt fantastic. “This couldn’t get any better” thought Yoda, but then it did.
The fabulous fingers began to work their way up until they came to Yoda’s armpits. ‘I don’t know how the kids could have missed this’ she said ‘but I’m glad they left it for me.’ The bed rocked and creaked. The straps groaned. She stroked and poked until tears ran down Yoda’s face.
‘I wish I could stay longer’ she said as she bent over and kissed Yoda on the forehead ‘but I have to get back to the little monsters before they give the old guy a heart attack.’
She began to walk out but then turned back to Yoda.
‘I’ll send Betty to untie you once we’re done. Don’t expect her to release you too quickly though. I saw the way she was looking at you and I don’t think she’ll be in any hurry to let you go.’