Friday, February 17, 2012

PART 7 - My Haunted Life "A Dreadful Sleep"


"My Haunted Life"
Part 7: A Dreadful Sleep (1 of 3 Segments) 
Based on True Events by Chris Matheny

"Skin and Bone"
A Poem By
 Chris Matheny

I began this quest alone,
The sum of all my parts;
Just muscle, skin and bone,
And what is given by the heart.

Alone, I stumbled into the night,
Shivering and trembling from the cold;
Panic stricken and full of fright,
I had to do what I was told.

Voices carried from darkened corners,
Shrieking sounds from the doomed;
Like the wailing of eternal mourners,
Whose judgment now looms.

Then “He” came from beyond the veil,
Driving my nightly terrors away;
Always fighting tooth and nail,
Because of Him they could not stay.

I saw Him dressed in clothes so old,
Tattered, torn and ripped to shreds;
Dank and musty, He smells of mold,
While standing guard next to my bed.

I bore this curse alone,
Living with the dead;
Until a guide, I was shown,
And now I call Him, “RED.”



"A Dreadful Sleep"


A ten-year-old boy with brown hair and a baby face peaked out from behind his bedroom door. A small dark object was clutched in his tiny hands. Like a scared little mouse, he poked his head out, carefully listening for any sound. The house was quiet, and the boy was alone. With grim determination, he left the confines of the bedroom, and made his way quickly down the carpeted hallway to the second door on his left. Quietly he slipped into the bathroom and locked the door.

Turning to rest his back against the door, young Chris let out a deep breath, sweat beaded on his forehead, and tears welled in his eyes. He clutched the object tightly to his chest, while he tried to steady his nerves and his breathing. Sobs gently rocked his little frame as he fought to control himself.

The bathroom was long and narrow. There were a mirror and sink on one wall. Chris shuffled forward and gazed in the mirror above the sink. His tears dripped silently into the bowl as he bowed his head.

“I’m so tired.” The words croaked out between the sobs. “I quit! I can’t fight you anymore. I won’t fight you…I’m so tired…”

Slowly, Chris’ little hands began to drop away from his chest and unclench the item. There in his grasp was his favorite belt. It was made of thick, brown leather with a sturdy metal clasp. His father had given it to him the last time that he had come home on leave from the Army. He looked at the belt for a moment as he began to breath heavily again. Tears streamed even harder down the boys ruddy cheeks.

“You win…” he muttered faintly as he passed the tapered end of the belt through the buckle, making a noose. “I am so tired…”

Chris placed the noose over his head slowly and deliberately, as though he were in a trance. Very carefully, he tightened the belt until it was taunt. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. With a fast violent motion, he jerked the belt tight and flipped the catch peg into place. Stepping sharply back from the mirror, he watched his own reflection as his skin bulged around the belt and began to change color. Through the tears in his eyes, he saw the world shrink and fall away into a pinprick of light.

“I’m so tired…” his little blue lips mouthed soundlessly as the floor jumped up to grab him in its tingling embrace. The sound of blood roared in his ears. His heart pounded violently in his chest.
“Sooo….tttiiirrrreee….”

His eyes fixed and dilated, the world faded away and was gone. The sound of his pounding heart slowed and faltered. Death reached out for the boy…

“Not yet, Chris. It’s not your time.” A soft and gentle voice pierced the dark veil that had covered his mind. “Not yet.”

PING! There was a sharp sound in the darkness. Followed by the strange sensation of millions of ants under his skin rushing to the top of his head, where they promptly began to sting. The world came rushing back from the void, and snapped into existence. With a mighty breath, Chris rolled onto his back and began to gasp for air. Gulping huge mouthfuls, he began to cough vehemently.

“Not yet…” The voice faded away with the passing of the sound of the blood in his ears. “Not yettt….”

Chris slowly sat up and looked around the bathroom floor in disbelief. The leather belt lay on the tile in front of him like an uncoiling snake. The steel catch pin had snapped neatly in two. The sobbing returned as he began to rock slowly back and forth. Tears streamed from his dark brown eyes, as he fell back to rest against the wall behind him. A great, gut-wrenching wail burst from his mouth, carrying with it five years of torment and pain.

“NO!” The scream tore itself from his throat, as stark realization settled over him. “NO!” the scream repeated. “NO! NO! NO!!! They won’t let me die!!! They won’t let me die!!!”

Chris collapsed to the floor again. He lay on his side choking and sobbing, until the darkness crept back up and pulled him into its murky depths. A sleep born from exhaustion soon stole over him, and for the first time in two months, he slept without hearing the voices in the dark…

Part 8 the continuation of this story is COMING SOON!


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1 comment:

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