Comments Posted By Eric Harrell
Displaying 121 To 150 Of 233 Comments
I’d like to charge you for some heinous crime but there’s just too much potential that I see in your future. For what you did, Jill, you hurt me so bad, stole everything I had. So what do I do? Do I forgive you? Or do blame you for everything?
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 10.20.2012 @ 2:59 pm
What is shown here is merely a simple sentence but within the name are hundreds of stories of how this man has grown.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 10.19.2012 @ 1:59 pm
I was born and raised in a tide of floods, cities swept underneath with vigilant Gods above. Any who lived, lived on the arc yet I alone, began to start. Modern age infused me with every passing day. I grew old, my arms grew flabby and my skin was baked. My spender was lost and my extravagance was not paid, I filled with garbage and now I pray: I pray for people to marvel once again, to find solitude in my grasp, to appreciate my existence for I was raised for this purpose, why else am I here? I am nothing without a relation to anything, otherwise what does it matter if I can tell you where I began?
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 10.19.2012 @ 5:44 am
Carved of fine oak, the hall became its domain. It beckoned to the people walking on the street, bystanders until they met its form, then they became prey to its splendour, victim to its intent, slaves to the Square’s owner.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 10.17.2012 @ 3:50 pm
Strive, strive…STRIVE ALREADY. I repeat until the echo comes back weighed with regret and shame. Do it. Nothing is easy. And through this means I civilize myself. I must make myself do as an Agent rather than an event, there I will be one of you in a society of free will.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 10.16.2012 @ 7:29 pm
He tossed them quickly into the trash can by the door when his parents barged into his refuge, policing him as their suspicions had dictated. The cigarette carton fell short and the box of condoms snagged the edge of the bin, toggling the handle of the plastic bag bloomed over a dull green trash bin; the crinkles grabbed the attention of his parents who – after that date – issued an inquisition to his every acquisition and request.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 10.15.2012 @ 9:06 pm
They took the upper together, stress had gotten too hard to deal with. Euphoria was the plane they reached, and even though they knew for a lie, they wept in its existence. Enveloped they were like flies for the dealer, he shot them full of poison and paralysed their ambitions.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 10.15.2012 @ 4:50 am
From that time way back when, when my father would offer me a coke cola can, upon a rock with rod in his hand, he’d laugh and tell me the stories from way back when and now that time is my past, a wonderful moment that I cherish as one of the best. Thank you dad.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 10.14.2012 @ 4:39 am
The dog slung its way into the room, pools under its form crested and collapsed into the Blanche tiles. A window frame shuttered against itself until it was knocked loose to crash upon the neighbouring counter-top and fling the shattered pane pieces into Guldrid’s lap. The woman sprang up with a splash on the television covering the storm and ran into the bathroom. Her milk dripped down the lampshade in front of the dog, its musty hide clung to the wall and its feet left a sloppy trail of ill-formed mud.
While a terrible scene it didn’t matter once the tsunami came.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 10.11.2012 @ 12:16 pm
I left my headphones on my desk, it emitted ominous beats just auditory to pick up. It was the evening, there was a cold wind coming in from the open window so I went to grab a sweater respecting my room-mate’s need for some fresh air. Sweater was quite worn, from two falls ago, but such was the history of most of my clothes, outdated and out of style…stupid trends. I dislike all reoccurring things like deja vu, like habits, like addictions, like routines, like rituals, the use of the word like and other cliché titles and gimmicks but that reminds me there’s a steak in my fridge!
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 10.10.2012 @ 2:34 pm
The thread was thin, lined with grease, water kept together in oval pockets on the underside. One by one they fell as flesh slid across the thread’s top. Each reflected a soft hue from the fire that followed the hand; the thread ignited and the flames traced it upwards as the thread fell downwards, its bottom end turned to ash. Fire met flesh and ignited with a flair of resilience, water doused flame as grease fuelled it; one won, one force was extinguished.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 10.10.2012 @ 6:04 am
An emotion so often overlooked by the torments of the day, which are far too many and with far too much attention paid to them. Happy is an emotion I feel in a certain picture in my mind. Its dawn, yet the sun’s glow is warmth here. I’ve done my readings, I worked yesterday and have another two days off. I wrote a great story just last night and will write another in an hour. I arrive at a field and run, tall grass spreading in my usher, no sound but the wind, no animal but me and I, alone, smile with the sun on the horizon, thinking of the strength of my brother, the memory of my dad, the lessons of my mother, and everything, that’s allowed me to come to this moment. Here. Just…happy.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 10.07.2012 @ 7:49 pm
T’was once possible, to speak and accomplish what one’s mind wished but that was a simpler time with simpler people and those gifted by Gods had the tools to make things true, believable. By the pen we bypassed all suspicions…by the fates I wish for the power to reverse time.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 10.06.2012 @ 2:44 pm
Containment of physical bounds meant that my arms extend only half-way; leads to a skewed measurement taken by eye. He sizes me up, contortion suit forces self loving through self hugging and a laugh seizes me: a comical, maniacal, cliché, anticipated expectation of scripted, commanded, condemned lunacy. I didn’t come in insane, my arms spread their full width, free will was my expression and my thoughts found themselves on a page. Here I am empty for my thoughts go to waste, I tried to use the walls as paper, remember each letter upon each block as if it were a page. Spectacles, plain black rimmed, clean-shaven man in dim lighting, mirror reflecting, reflection sight, a white light in my eyes and all goes teal beneath several cloths of white. A surgeon says goodnight and my mind just….follows.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 10.04.2012 @ 6:54 pm
Bounded across the forest floor, it carried itself with a foolish grace of a fawn. There was no fear, for there was no hunter. There was no hunger, for the was an abundance of food in this untouched land. Into more uncharted lands north it found itself, with a host of several hundreds of assorted furry creatures. Nature was on the advance.
Fantasy bridges reality just like how distraction finds its way into boring routine.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 09.30.2012 @ 5:15 am
Assistance for quiet, for a recluse away from the troubles, duties, distractions and conflicting voices. I have my piece, a chapter and a half in and yet I cannot progress, I rewrite and delete, only to be discontent. Why is this so? I need assistance from what?
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 09.26.2012 @ 7:55 pm
His antiquity shone, deep mahogony with whitish dentures and eyes full of strength. His beard was untrimmed, unkept, unruly. We kept him to civilize him, we ate his friends to solve the issue of world hunger and we kept our demons at bay. We fly slaves now, back across the transatlantic to South Asia, untouched by war, left out of the conflicts; it was the first play crime returned to, in the city of sacrifice, Jakarta.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 09.24.2012 @ 8:43 pm
Once, for a long time, in my youth I was afraid. I was afraid of places without light, for in the dark I believed a creature always grew, the same creature, a monster whose face drooled down like black oil and whose features withered away into that of horror. In whose eyes crawled maggots and whose hands could rend.
My fear nowadays is that of something more mature. I have conquered the fear of mortality but not that of failure, for my fear of mortality is dependent on that of a higher purpose and should I *know* that my purpose is for nought, both would return in crippling strength.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 09.24.2012 @ 5:05 am
People. How big of a concept is this. The people in the planet, is then multiplied in time. And we, as people, will remain engraved in backlogged internet pages and unused facebook profiles and as files in government files covered in dust. We are more than that aren’t we, and yet I cannot help but think we are just numbers. People are numbers, people we know are personalities so conceptually large that its hard to define them, like people.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 09.22.2012 @ 5:49 pm
I heard I was going to Kitchener from a friend. Though, his identity is itself a trial amongst knowledge. Potential to be put on trial for an honest living – a modern interpretation of this. Say, how can we live “honest” truly, celebrities openly talk of doing illegal psychedelic drugs and no one is pursuing them, so why pursue us? Because it’s easy, its accessible, to catch one guy here or a gal over there, to make the statistics, for evidence for proof and yet these people with so much privilege get to keep it and hold it over us.
Why can’t we all act on our jealousy? Collectively remove celebrity status. Because of pride – we all want to be a celebrity – and sloth – its hard.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 09.21.2012 @ 7:09 pm
He opened his eyes, his navy blue iris contrasted his other that was hazel. He punched in the lock code to his phone and turned off his alarm, checked his texts and then started that simple game. His whole day was routine, and at the end, he wondered when he’d have time for independent thought. When he was older? Then everything would be different and he’d have missed out on so much.
Too bad I guess.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 09.21.2012 @ 8:19 am
I have put my mark on that object you possess, what’s the word for that? Give me that! Sigh…Brains are puddings nowadays. I’ve got to go to the store and drop this off, this hat, from your head I took it from and now the one that I wear. Some holes, a bit off-balance, the rim has been made flat but nevertheless I shall wear it with class, go to the store and give this to the owner, who’ll give me my party invitation. Savvy mate?
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 09.19.2012 @ 2:12 pm
Together we find ourselves in a collective hole, the top is filling with some kind of cement, or sinking sand, or acid; we don’t know yet, it hasn’t hit us. This vicious liquid is slowly dripping down and threatening to swallow us up. Its a frustrating time, to be in school.
Design courses for a regular load and with slight distractions in mind, please.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 09.18.2012 @ 5:16 am
Checking out the ladies across the street, his mouth watered with a succulent dream, an imagination that made things seem possible. Tom was a wanderer, and a panderer but he knew what everyone wanted through the test of time.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 09.16.2012 @ 7:45 pm
It took me during class, like a fog it began to creep over and construe the information on the board, letters became symbols and then smudges and then smears, until finally, blindness took me and I lost all dear to me.
My sight was my life, now if only I can find a way to reconcile the loss.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 09.15.2012 @ 5:27 pm
He flexed in the subway as the people gawked, he was a hundred pounds of muscled flesh with half of that of fat and another equal portion of bone. You could see it upon him, a model made human, a statue amongst the people. Yet that’s all he aspired to be.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 09.07.2012 @ 9:04 pm
A stillness in the soft fabric of her dress was where she kept her sight. Low and not interfering with the men she feared. She did as she told and she cared as if they were her family. Now was she mother in the 50s or a waitress even now?
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 09.06.2012 @ 10:51 pm
I didn’t expect a miracle and it never came, this man passed without a grace while I played away. I joked, I laughed, I did all I could get my mind of death. And yet it founds its way in and made me this morbid way.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 09.03.2012 @ 8:34 pm
Monochrome coloured the screen, a slight violet use to infuse my eyes but now it is dark, plain, parallel and obtrusive. I feel pale, I feel lacking….empty. This newspaper, this daily event, this habit, this routine…it was now lacking and I felt that I could not return to it again, ever the same.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 09.03.2012 @ 6:36 am
Back To Stats Page
Refuse to Lose, that’s is what my Dad use to always say but now that I’m older I know that I can no longer deny my limits. Life is a balancing act, take on too much and you’ll be overwhelmed, and defeated. Play to your strengths.
Dad, I’ll leave my own legacy one day, but know that your words paved the road to something greater.
» Posted By Eric Harrell On 08.28.2012 @ 7:44 am