Depths

Depths

by

C.S. Burkhart

Copyright
©
2015 by C.S.
Burkhart

All rights reserved. No part of
this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in
any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or
other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written
permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses
permitted by copyright law.

ISBN-13:
978-1514711521

ISBN-10:
1514711524

Dedicated to all of those who have
suffered their own bouts of insanity. Hopefully it was
brief.

So this is my first published
novel, it took me five years to finish it but it
’s finally done. It
’
s interesting, I
started writing this book as a way to sort of document what I was
experiencing. A lot of what happens in the novel actually did
happen to me; I was constantly having dreams/nightmares and I
couldn
’
t tell if they were real or not. I
would get confused throughout the day, thinking I had done
something or needed to do something because of a dream I had had.
It went on for months before I decided to basically stop sleeping.
You can
’
t dream if you
’
re not asleep right? I would sleep at an absolute maximum of
3 hours per night, usually closer to 1.5 - 2 hours, except on
Saturdays when I would sleep in. This would mess with me too
though, I would have auditory and visual hallucinations, space out
and not remember who I was talking to, or continue conversations
with the wrong people. I did this for almost a full
year.

Anyways, I started this book so
long ago and finished it when I was in a completely different place
in my life. Going through it again so much later, it really brought
back all of those memories from that time. The things we
do
…

In reading this novel, you will
live through and experience many of the same things I have. Almost
everything (
almost
everything!) that happens in this novel is based off of
dreams or nightmares I had, and the writing reflects the
disoriented thinking I was doing back then.

I will tell you that everything
you need to know to understand this novel is written inside,
although it might not seem like it at first. There are clues to
look for, things to notice and pay attention to and if
you
’re clever enough, you just might be
able to figure out what
’
s going
on.

Good luck.

Cordially,

C.S. Burkhart

P.S.

Got questions about this book? Send me an email,
I’ll be doing Youtube Q&A sessions and would love to answer any
questions you have!

[email protected]

…
I stumbled through my front door,
gripping my head. What had just happened? Where did I even come
from? I plopped onto my couch and closed my eyes, hand on my
forehead. I took the car keys out of my pocket and dropped them
onto the coffee table. The clinging sound echoed in my skull like
pots and pans beaten by hammers.

I yanked my hand off my forehead, my eyes bolted
open and I sat upright on my couch. What day was it? Did I need to
work?

Today is Monday. I think.

No, today
is
Monday. Right? Whatever, I hate
Mondays and I'm pretty sure everyone else does too. Don't you?
Correct me if I'm wrong. There's always something that could be
better about Mondays. And if there was something that could be
better about the week, it was Monday. The significance of it being
Monday is that two days ago it was Saturday.

Since it was Saturday I could
sleep in, and I haven't been sleeping much lately. Whether it's
because I can't get to sleep or because I'm refusing to sleep, I
simply am
not
sleeping. Your mind works in strange ways when you
haven
’
t slept. Try not sleeping at all for
about 48 hours and you'll be amazed at how differently you start
thinking. Try not sleeping for longer than that and you will see
the world through a whole new set of eyes. Your brain is unfiltered
and it just becomes pure thought. Your mind processes so much
faster because there aren't any hoops and hurdles in your head
anymore.

Saturdays I slept though. Sundays
sometimes, but not usually. I didn't get my hopes up for it at
least. I woke up on Saturday like I usually do, unaware of my
surroundings, trying to piece together what had happened the night
before. Usually nothing had happened the night before which is why
it was all the more confusing not being able to remember.
It
’
s not like I was out with friends or
anything, I didn
’
t really have any, nor
was I drinking alone or anything else that would cause me to
forget. Maybe I just wasn
’
t doing anything
memorable and that
’
s why I
couldn
’
t remember.

Tendrils of haze peeled away as I
lay there in bed, naked and shivering in the January
cold
—
I didn't use a heater, costs too
much, plus I liked the cold. I heard a sound coming from outside of
my door. A dull, creaking sound. The sound you would expect an old
man to make as he rose unwillingly from his arm chair. There was
obviously no one in my chair, I lived alone. But I
digress.

I stretched, back cracking and popping, tendons
loosening up, a stretch a track coach would be proud of. The blood
rushed from my head and I felt dizzy for a moment, but I quickly
regained my balance and proceeded to my bedroom door. The door
seemed to bulge towards me, like I was looking through a fish eye
lens. I inspected it for stretch lines, it would have only made
sense for a bulging door to have them wouldn't it? I had not had
any experience with this before. I grasped the knob, the metal cold
in my hands, twisted and pulled the door open. I shivered and my
teeth started chattering so I wrapped my arms around myself to warm
up and I saw my own breath. Little puffs rising and quickly
evaporating. Now, I like to think I can rationalize most anything.
But I couldn't make sense of this. I didn't check the clock when I
woke up, but it must be at least two in the afternoon. That was the
earliest I woke up on Saturdays. And there was no way it would be
cold enough to see one's breath inside, even in January. I went
back into my room, tripped over my black work boots, and while
lying on the ground dazed, found a pair of pants and a shirt. I'm
not sure how long they had been there. They didn't smell bad
though, at least not to me, so they must have been OK to wear. I
sat up on the ground and pulled the pants and shirt on.

Let's try this again. Stand up,
back to the door, open, go outside and... Yep. Still freezing. Why?
I staggered down the hall in the dim light from outs
—

...
Dim
light? Wait, what time is it?
Teeth still chattering I made my way back to my room once again,
tripped again, I really do need to clean my room, and checked the
clock on my nightstand near my bed. The clock read out loud to
me,
“
5 A.M.
”
in
such a matter of fact voice
—
in my head of
course, the clock can't talk
—
that I
actually had to say it out loud for it to register. I would deal
with that impossibility in a moment.

The house groaned again.

Room, door knob, open, hallway,
thermostat.

Now why would a thermostat, set to
keep the place at 75 degrees Fahrenheit, tell me such a blatant
lie? It clearly is
not
75
…

Creeeooooooooocccccshhheerrrrrr!!!!!!!!!

That's what the house sounded like. Say it out loud,
you'll understand. The house seemed like it was impatient with me.
Which was unfortunate, I was impatient with the thermostat and it
was far too early for me to be awake, so it seemed that no one was
starting off to a good day on this fine Saturday.

The noise was coming from my office, kitty-corner to
my bedroom. Down the hall on the left. I made my way back down the
hall and put my ear up against the office door. I always kept the
doors shut in my house. If something comes after me, I'll at least
have a few extra seconds while it opens the doors. I listened
closely... And couldn't hear anything. No groaning, nothing.

I was knocked to the floor and
hard. Luckily my head broke the fall. I was stunned for a good
ten-seconds or so. As I shook my senses back and picked myself up,
something slammed against the door again. The door bulged
unnaturally outwards with the force. It didn't even make sense for
it not to shatter with the impact. Somewhat fascinated as to how
that could be possible, but also rather frightened, I cautiously
approached the door again. There was another loud groan that
erupted from inside and I backed away, expecting the force to hit
the door again. But nothing. Seizing my chance, I leaped forward at
the door and swung it open and
…
Nothing
again.

It's frustrating when that
happens. You know, like when you're watching a movie, the suspense
builds... Creepy music plays as someone rips open a shower curtain
to find nothing? And then
…

Creeeooooooooocccccshhheerrrrrr!!!!!!!!!

The sound was deafening coming from the actual
origin. I clasped my head trying to block my ears but it was if the
noise was inside my head. Everything rattled violently, my desk,
the bookshelf, the stacks of paper and books tumbled off my desk
and crashed to the floor.

The sound stopped and I opened my eyes and uncovered
my ears, still ringing. I stood up but my legs were shaking so I
leaned on my desk for support. A voice in my ear said:

“
Monday. Today was Monday. The
significance of it being Monday is that two days ago it was
Saturday.
”

Wait. What day is it?

“
...And nobody likes a
Monday.
”

“
Wake up!
”

What?

Now don't get me wrong, I can
respect authority. But this is ridiculous. I had worked at my
company for going on four years now. I can't say I was perfect but
I did my job. Watching a surveillance camera isn't the most
difficult thing in the world. Especially when you're a night-shift
security guard for a company that sells copy machines. I mean
honestly, who steals a copy machine? Who even
buys
a copy machine
anymore? This was the first time anyone had even
attempted
to break in,
let alone
actually
break in and steal something. Why the fuck would someone do
that? Is robbing a bank too cliche nowadays that we have to steal
copy machines? And how did they even get it out? Honestly, you have
to give whoever did it some credit for actually being able to get
it out of the building without even waking me up or being noticed
by anyone. I'd assume something like that would make a good deal of
noise. It's a fucking copy machine. So, long story short I was
fired.