From the Depths by Richard Saxon

Author:Richard Saxon [Saxon, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-19T22:00:00+00:00

Every Year on My Birthday, I Have to Die.

I died for the first time on the 18th of August 2006. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant death, nor was it one that I expected. It was simply the random act of violence that destroyed my life… and it came out of nowhere.

We were just relaxing at the pub, enjoying a few drinks after a busy day at work. It was my turn to buy a round of beers, so I was trying to get the attention of the bartender.

I felt someone punch me in the side. At first, I thought someone had just hit me, but then I felt the warmth and the rapid stream of blood pouring down my shirt. I realized then and there that I’d actually gotten stabbed.

As far as I can remember, it wasn’t even that painful. Still, my legs gave out under me, and I collapsed to the floor. Even then I worried more about ruining my expensive suit, ignoring the fact that I might be dying.

Oncoming death is funny like that. Everyone thinks they’re the exception, that they’ll get out of whatever horrible situation the universe has thrust upon them. At least that’s what I thought as the life drained from my body. The world around me just faded to black, and before I knew it, I had just died.

Then there was the void. At first it was little more than darkness, only broken by weird shapes and colors in the distance. As I regained a sense of surroundings, I was dragged towards a new world, one without pain, suffering, or death. All there was were people on a journey to different destinations. Whether they had all died like myself or if they weren’t born yet, I didn’t know. All I knew was that I wasn’t afraid anymore. The worries, the anxiety, and all my fears had been left behind.

A light appeared in the distance, endlessly far away. I knew that would be my final destination, my final purpose in the brief life I’d led. Unfortunately, I never managed to get that far…

I was jolted awake in my own bed, soaking wet from sweat and shaking like a maniac. My hand reflectively clutched my side to cover up the wound I’d sustained…but it wasn’t there anymore. In fact, I didn’t have a single scratch on me.

Had it all been a dream?

My phone lit up on the bedside table. I picked it up to find dozens of text messages and missed calls.

“Hey, man, we’re at the pub. You coming or what?” the first message read, sent at 9:43 p.m.

“Hey, Rick, where the hell are you?” the second message read, sent at 10:23 p.m.

Then there were a couple of phone calls and another message.

“I guess you fell asleep, or maybe you’re getting lucky? Whatever, I’ll drink another shot in your honor. Happy Birthday, Rick.”

Then I had over twenty phone calls, and a singular message that sent shivers down my spine.

“For fuck sake, pick up the damn phone! Something happened to Danny.

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