Thursday, May 26, 2011

PART 3 "My Haunted Life": Voices in the Dark, Based on a True Story by Chris Matheny

"My Haunted Life"
Part 3: Voices in the Dark...
Based on True Events by Chris Matheny 

I have never seen his face,
but I will never forget
 that red velvet coat.
It was the summer of ‘79. My parents had purchased their first home together the previous year. We no longer lived in the little rental house where my nightmare began. It was a one-story, brick home with three bedrooms. It was not a new house, but very nice, nonetheless. I was now eight years old, and was sharing a bedroom with my little brother, Steven.
I don’t remember exactly when the voices started. I just remember the overall experience of the event. The voices weren’t there every night. They, like the rest of the activity in my life, seemed to ebb and flow. There would be no activity for months. Suddenly and all at once, it would burst into a flurry of activity.
Objects would move on their own, at the hands of unseen forces. Shadowy figures would flit back and forth everywhere in our room. The atmosphere in the room would change completely. No longer was it the safe and secure room enjoyed by two young boys. Rather, it would take on the cold and impersonal qualities of a tomb.
I was always terrified during the “High Tides,” as I referred to them. In fact, I would even sleep with a two-liter bottle so I did not have to get out of bed to pee. When I was forced for some reason to get out of bed at night, I would leap from the bed to the door. I always felt, at these times, that there was something trying to get me. It may seem silly, but I didn’t want to put my foot on the floor for the fear of it being grabbed again. As it had been a number of times in the past.
Although Only 10 Years Old,
I Had Suffered with
the "Voices" for Years.
When I would lie in bed trying to fall asleep, I would stare at the shadows cast by my curtains on the ceiling. They looked like the cartoon figures of Fred Flintstone and Barney.Rubble. Friendly faces to go to sleep to. You can imagine my surprise when the shadows began to move and speak. Only they didn’t sound like Fred & Barney.
The voices were low and menacing in tone. At times, they were accompanied by moans and growls, punctuated by piercing screams. I don’t need to tell you how difficult this made it to sleep. I could never quite make out what they were saying. I was kind of happy about that. I don’t think I would want to know what they were saying anyway. 

Things continued in this manner for about three years. The voices came and went, and I never told anyone. I was terrified that I might be suffering from a mental disorder. I know I was young, but I was old enough to know what “being crazy” was.
Constantly having this weight on my young shoulders wore me down. I didn’t get any sleep, and I was doing poorly in school. I don’t remember what tipped me over the edge. I just remember the fall.
Modeling Helped
Build My Self-Esteem
A Great Deal.
 I was ten years old at the time, and I stood in our bathroom with the door locked. I had a sturdy leather belt, and I was tired. I was so very tired.
 I took the belt, and put it around my neck. Then I tightened it as far as I could, and still be able to fasten the clasp. I dropped my hands to my sides and looked into the mirror. I saw the flesh of my neck bulging all around the top of the belt. I felt the pounding of the blood in my head and heard a roaring in my ears. My vision went to pin prick and it was over faster than I thought.
I awoke on the bathroom floor a few minutes later with a pounding headache. Lying in front of me on the floor was the belt with a broken buckle. The pin that held the buckle to the belt had neatly snapped in two, releasing its strangle hold upon my neck. 
I didn’t think about how close of a call that had been. I didn’t thank my “lucky stars.” I only wished I had a better belt.
The next attempt came not long after the first. There was a great tree in my front yard. I had spent entire days in that tree. My name was even carved in it at the very top.

In that tree was a thick old rope hanging from one of the lower limbs. I climbed the tree, took that old rope, and tied it around my neck. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. Then I leapt out of the tree.

I came close again. When I reached the end of the rope, there was a sharp tug and a loud snap. However, instead of my neck breaking, the rope did.

I Was Even Hired for
Runway Modeling Jobs.
I landed hard on my side. My ribs were injured that day on the exposed roots of the tree. This injury still plagues me to this day. However, I still bare deeper scars than the ones I got that day.
So, now I have told you, the world, what I have never spoken of to anyone. I have bared my soul to you all. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking me crazy. I understand how it sounds. Moreover, was I to hear it from another I would think him mad.
Unfortunately, I know it to be the truth. For I have lived it. I know that there are others around the world that are living through their own versions of it even now, as you read this. It is easier to dismiss someone as crazy, than it is to listen to them with an open mind.
At that time, I fear I was losing the battle for my mind. I had already tried to end my life twice. Fortunately, I failed in my attempts. How long would it be till I succeeded? How long could I go on this way? If not for two major events in my life at this time, I might have spiraled beyond recovery. The first of these events was discovering modeling. This was a very good outlet for me, and allowed me to focus on other things. Through building my self-esteem, I also began to develop some spine. Walking a runway in front of hundreds of people helped me gain confidence that I desperately needed. 
I Really Enjoyed Acting in Local Play Productions
& In Some Television Commercials.
As I became surer of myself, I began to resist the nighttime intruders the best that I could. I would tell them to be quiet and to leave my room. They would only get louder. I commanded them to leave, and they got angry. Things in the room began to vibrate and shake. Somewhere in a dark corner of the room, a toy crashed against the wall, and I felt the darkness begin to close in around me.
Steven had barely stirred during the entire event until now. He began to talk in his sleep, as he often did. This time something was different. It seemed as though he was responding to the voices. Did this mean I wasn’t crazy? I almost cried for joy when I heard his muttered responses to the ominous voices. He could hear them! I was overcome with relief.
The shadows seemed to envelope the bed. The voices became more insistent. The room grew very cold. That was when the second event that changed everything happened.
In the center of the room just behind the shadows, a figure began to materialize out of some dark misty cloud. He was tall and lean. I couldn’t see his face, but I could make out his clothes. He was wearing red velvet, and appeared to be dressed in tails and a top hat.
My visitor raised his right hand into the air. It began to emanate an eerie blue light, and the room brightened significantly. I saw the shadows around my bed disintegrate and fade away. He came to the side of my bed and I heard a single word. “Sleep,” he said with a soft and deep voice. The next thing I knew, it was morning.
The tall figure that had saved me that night would become a fixture in my room over the next few years. He kept the voices and the shadows away. I actually came to depend on him for many reasons. I never spoke of him to anyone; at least, not until I was much older.
I have never seen his face, but I will never forget that red velvet coat. The coat was the inspiration for his name. A name I’m not sure, whether I gave to him, or if he gave to himself.
I call him “RED.” To this day, I still see him, as do those closest to me. (Yes, others have seen him too.)

Read all the parts of "My Haunted Life," based on true events by Chris Matheny. 
Part 4: The Witch in the Nighclub"

Part 5: The Spirit in the Storm


Part 6: Return to the Darkness NOW POSTED!


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Also, read our blog journal, "My Life with Chris," written by Kimberly Brouillette. 
Part 4 Coming Soon!


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1 comment:

  1. Thank you very much for the story. I can imagine all its parts as if I had experienced them personally, and I feel identified with them because I've got a ''HAUNTED LIFE'' myself.

    Gladis Simonian Minassian

    ReplyDelete

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