Depths (5 page)

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Authors: C.S. Burkhart

Tags: #horror stories, #horror novels, #thriller novels, #horror books, #thriller books, #psychological book, #psychological horror books, #psychological horror story, #psychological story

BOOK: Depths
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She was worried about me? Why? Why
would she even bother caring? We hadn't seen in each other in
months and barely spoke anymore. How would she even know there was
anything to worry about? I continued down Memorial Drive in the
opposite direction to get back home. There wasn't much else I could
do today, it

s
not like I had any other plans and I didn't have anything to do at
home.

I had been fumbling to get my
phone back into my pocket for some time now and was finally getting
frustrated with it. I glanced down and found that my shirt had
gotten stuck in my pocket when I was trying to put the phone in. No
wonder the damn thing wouldn

t go in. I
fixed my shirt and got the phone in, right as I was rocketed
forward in my seat. The seat belt lock caught and jerked me
backwards. I heard my collar bone snap. My forearm bone jutted out
from the back of my elbow. The jagged bone pierced my side and
blood leaked from both wounds. I had drifted into the wrong side of
traffic and a vehicle, that I couldn't make out, had slammed into
me head on.

The back of my car rocked upwards with the force and
my head smashed into the steering wheel with a crunch. Apparently
the airbags had failed. My neck snapped outwards and my head
ricocheted from the wheel.

Chapter
6

I stood almost naked in my hallway just outside my
room. It was freezing, little goose bumps formed on my bare legs
and arms. The only thing I had on were a pair of boxers. I shivered
and could see my breath when I exhaled.

Creeeooooooooocccccshhheerrrrrr!!!!!!!!!

It was much closer this time. The noise came from my
bedroom, the door wide open with the moon shining brightly through
the open curtains. I never left my curtains open. The bedroom door
slammed shut by some unseen force and I turned, bolting down the
hallway. It seemed to stretch on forever, although it was only a
matter of ten feet or so to the living room.

I was almost there, but the living
room stretched further away, sucked into a black abyss. I ran
harder, hoping I could make it before the room was completely
engulfed when I passed by the open doorway to my bedroom, the door
slammed shut as I sprinted past it. I stopped in my tracks and
turned a one-eighty, eyeing my bedroom
door. I walked back
wards down
the hall, facing the doorway as I stepped carefully back towards
where the living room should have been. As I stepped, the bedroom
door slowly opened more and more with every step I took. The door
opened completely and in shock, I watched myself step out of the
doorway. A
s I moved
backwards
, he moved forwards running in a
freeze frame, stop motion sort of way. I stopped and walked
forwards again and my

other me

began moving backwards, back into the room and
the door shut behind him right as I reached the doorway.

There was no end to this hallway,
it
stretch
ed on for miles in both directions. There was a faint glow, a
cold glow, from a light source I couldn

t
see. Still shivering, I started making my way down the opposite
direction. I checked behind me to look at my doorway once more and
it remained shut. In all the confusion, I must not have noticed
that the walls were made entirely of
mirrors
. An infinite number of
reflections shot out from both sides of me. Multitudes of
reflections within a reflection within a reflection kept pace with
me as I trekked on down the halls.

My breath caught in my throat as
something pierced the flesh of my foot. I stopped, balancing myself
on the mirrored wall, and held my foot with my other hand. Shards
of glass jutted
out
from my bloody feet. I looked at the floor for
the first time since coming this new direction and saw it was made
entirely from glass. Cracks had formed behind me where I had just
passed, rippling out from where I stood, growing spiderwebs that I
could
hear
as
they spread. I yanked the glass from my foot and dropped it to the
floor.

The chunk of glass hit the floor
with a
tink,
shooting off more webs, rapidly radiating from the point of
impact. I took off running as fast as I could in the opposite
direction. I didn't know what was below the glass floor but I
didn't think I

d like it. I looked to my
right at my reflection in the pale light. I looked afraid, truly
afraid. I ran faster and faster, my lungs burned, my muscles were
wearing out and fast, and suddenly, I wasn't running alongside of
my reflection anymore. It stood frozen in the mirror behind me,
watching me as I ran, with a heavy tone of sadness washed over its
face.

Glass shattered in the distance,
the sound echoed, roaring down the hall as the floor collapsed. I
felt lightheaded from running but I forced myself along even
faster, desperately trying to stay ahead of the cracking glass.
Bloody footprints trailed
behind me
and despite the fire
coursing through my body, my feet were numb with cold. I
couldn

t even
feel the glass that was surely tearing up my feet. I looked to my
left and saw my reflection running with me

at least a little reassuring

but I
still kept my eye on it, making sure it wouldn

t abandon me again.

My ragged
breath
was clearly visible in the near
freezing temperature. I could feel the cold radiating from the
mirrored walls, chilling me from the inside out. My reflection
stared back at me, cheeks flushed, sweat on my brow.

The cracks were right at my feet now, falling away
from my shredded feet as I stepped down.

Creeeooooooooocccccshhheerrrrrr!!!!!!!!!

Mirrored glass exploded out from the walls in the
distance behind me, the walls fell away, dropping into the
blackness below. My reflection gritted its teeth as cramps formed
in my sides. I've never been a good runner, my body was at its
limits and I could feel myself slowing down, the glass digging even
deeper into my feet as my footsteps grew heavier. I turned back
towards my reflection and it winked, shooting off into the distance
with a burst of speed.

I stopped. I couldn't run any further. The glass
gave way beneath my feet and I fell.

Chapter
7

Shit!

Red light. Almost ran it. I get distracted easily.
The intersection on Memoir Drive doesn't have a protected left
turn.

The light turned green and I drove
slowly down my street until I reached my driveway, parked and
stepped out of the car. My neighbor across the street, some
kid

maybe about twelve years
old

waved to me. I waved back. I think his
name was Martin. I don't really know, I don't interact with the
neighbors much.

It was about 10 A.M. now so I
still had a few hours to kill before I was supposed to meet
her
.

My dreams were getting more and more intense.

That sound... God what was that sound?

I went down the hall to the office, opened the door
and looked around. Everything was in order. Small desk in the
corner by the window, plenty of clutter on it, my little office
rolling chair tucked underneath.

Motion.

What was that?

I caught it from the corner of my
eye. I could have sworn I saw
myself
running down the hall... I
poked out of the office and looked both ways. Nothing. I left my
office and instead went to my bedroom and sat on my bed. I'm so
tired. I don't remember the last time I slept well. Every night is
just one dream after the other and I can never tell when I'm awake
or not. Like I said, my dreams are detailed. Detailed and usually
mundane, not the stuff most people dream about like flying, or shit
like that. There

s no way to differentiate
between the dreams and things I do, or did, in real
life.

When it wasn't the dreams then it
was just insomnia keeping me up. I'd get so wrapped up in a task
that I just couldn't pull away, even if that task was simply trying
to find something to do so I didn't have to sleep: reorganizing my
office, reading the news, doing laundry

It didn

t really matter as long as I
wasn

t sleeping. I don't know why I tried
staying awake, I mean I love sleep. I miss it.
Badly
. But I just
don't
want
to. I
don't want to go to sleep and dream these fucking dreams and spend
the rest of the night tortured in my own house.

I
stood
, very reluctantly, from my bed and
looked around my room, taking note of all the details. I
couldn

t be too sure, what if I was
sleeping right now? Once I was satisfied everything was in order I
went back down the hall into my living room. I remembered that the
morning paper came today. Completely slipped my mind. I read the
newspaper a lot. I know my phone would be much more convenient, but
I

ve always loved the newspaper ever since
I was little. I practically taught myself how to read from the
newspaper. I went back outside

Martin was
still playing and his brother had joined him
now

and picked the paper up off of my
driveway taking it back inside.

I plopped down on my sofa, set my keys on the coffee
table and removed the newspaper from its clear plastic bag. I loved
the smell of a newspaper right out of the bag. That rich musty
smell. Something about it...

The first article above the crease on the front page
caught my attention immediately. It read:

 

Local Business Man Murdered In His Own Home

by CB Morris

 

Police discovered the remains of Charles Green, 56,
late Thursday night, brutally murdered in his own home. He was
found with multiple stab wounds in his chest and back. Police and
locals alike are puzzled by this grisly act of violence in their
normally quiet suburban town. Police would not comment when pressed
about possible suspects or motives, pending a full investigation.
Charles Green...

 

I stopped reading there. Charles
Green sounded familiar.
Really
familiar, but I couldn't quite place from where.
I looked at the page again. A
meek
,
middle
-aged man with a
receding hairline, a little gap between his two front teeth, lips
pulled back into a goofy gap-toothed smile with a small round nose
sat atop of it. His eyes were magnified by his thick-framed
glasses. Seemed like a nice enough fellow, I didn't like him
though. I didn't know why, I just felt uncomfortable as he stared
back at me from behind his glasses. Forever frozen, no more
pictures would ever be taken of Charles Green. At least not of him
smiling. Or alive. Unsettling thought.

I turned the page and perused through the paper but
none of the other headlines really caught my attention. How
disappointing.

Charles Green... Where did I know you from? I knew I
had seen him somewhere. Knew it without a doubt. It was going to
drive me crazy all day trying to remember where I had seen him.

It wasn't even 10:30 A.M. yet.
Time moves so much slower when you're either looking forward to, or
dreading something. In this case, it was a little bit of both. We
hadn't seen each other in so long and she said she was worried
about me so it wouldn't lead to a pleasant reminiscing. There would
be the awkward small talk in the beginning, neither of us wanting
to be the first to bring up whatever concerns there were. In the
end I would do the asking, she always knew I would act first. Then
there would be the questions


Are you OK? Why haven't you been
sleeping? Why haven't you kept in contact?

I already knew the tone of voice she would use. The
soft sympathetic tone with a bite to it that reassured me she was
being serious but also genuinely cared.

Then I would respond with generic answers to
everything she asked.


Yes I'm OK. I just haven't been.
I'm sorry, I've been busy.

But
she
could always cut through my
bullshit, not like it was hard to tell that those answers were
bullshit or anything, but she would always call me out on it. She
would keep pressing and I'd keep dodging, until
she

d finally catch my eye directly in
hers. I couldn't dodge and weave through a conversation with her
when I was looking her directly in the eye. I could with other
people but never with her. Never. It was like I was already having
the conversation.

After the serious stuff was done
we would try to catch up a little bit and maybe discuss some
current events. I made a mental note to ask her about Charles
Green. Green

I wonder what he did for
someone to want to kill him. Maybe he was just in the wrong place
at the wrong time. You don't hear of murders in this town very
often.

I rested my head all the way back
against the seat of the couch. It was an expensive sofa but
my
God
it was
worth it. You've never sat in anything so comfortable. It helped my
back. I've always had poor posture and now I was paying for it with
aches and pains.

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