Comments Posted By Holden
Displaying 1 To 30 Of 310 Comments
Like a grayed-out box.
Where are the instructions?
Looking for a friend
to restore my functionality.
» Posted By Holden On 10.14.2018 @ 6:06 am
of love and form.
rolling on the ground of the heart.
wanting but never finishing.
letting it be over
before it really begun.
because of fear
or thinking yourself too important
to be a piece of the puzzle
» Posted By Holden On 09.21.2018 @ 6:56 pm
what mark represents you to the world
crystallize my heart in stitches
they look but they don’t see
please ask a question about it
I’m drowning in this silence
wearing hearts on sleeves
yet no response
» Posted By Holden On 03.24.2018 @ 9:20 pm
Down, down, down the well weighted down by chains, the smooth stone wall sliding by, no handholds, glowing green that snaked round his arms, stillness.
» Posted By Holden On 08.06.2016 @ 6:29 pm
The elf blocked the door.
“I’m sorry. You’ve been chosen. You cannot go to school today. You have to come with us to the Land Beyond Dreams.”
Finally! The beings beyond reality had realized that I didn’t belong in this world, and come to bring me to some henceforth unknown land, where I would mysteriously be the heir to the throne!
As if reading my thoughts, the elf said, “Sorry. You see, we need a human ritual sacrifice once every millennium…”
» Posted By Holden On 04.09.2016 @ 4:56 pm
Each turn would be a hundred years. He gave the dial three turns. Then he thought of Jack, disdainful, “you *would* just make a time machine to travel to tomorrow, wouldn’t you?”
This wasn’t the time to be cautious. He cranked, faster and faster. He would go as far as there was enough fuel to go. Then the handle broke.
» Posted By Holden On 03.24.2016 @ 7:38 pm
A new year, a new page turned. But parts of my mind are irretrievably still stuck to the old pages, memories who won’t go away. Can any year ever be done?
» Posted By Holden On 01.03.2016 @ 8:00 am
She was all in the clear, and thought she could slip away to the bathroom, but heard a familiar nasally tenor in the background. She wasn’t sure how far away he was, but she felt the hairs on the back of her neck sticking up, as if it were a bear instead of a human. Her dress glided with her soundlessly as she went around the corner, and found the edge of the terrace.
» Posted By Holden On 11.11.2015 @ 5:40 am
From where to where? Simply a stone formation with a hole in the middle. Is it a bridge, a tunnel between two worlds? He goes through, walks around, repeats, ten times. “Am I ten times removed from the real world now?” he mocks. “No, you have to go back,” I say in back. “Rewind clockwise,” I drag his arm but he laughs it off and heads towards the car.
» Posted By Holden On 11.05.2015 @ 7:33 am
It was the first time I saw one. I was plenty scared at first, I’m sure I just stood there. She guided my hand forward, and flattened out my palm. Pretty much the wrong way to go about it you’d think, just sticking your hand out to be gnawed off.
» Posted By Holden On 07.03.2015 @ 7:15 am
An egg dropped on the floor.
He stood staring at the yolky rivulets.
Anyone who knew Al would recognize, from the way he stood lazily, from the long, extended way he enunciated “Oops,” that he had let his fingers slip.
And well, the kitchen sort-of blew up after that.
Marlene, who, it seemed, had been waiting just for such an “oops,” swung her hand – holding the pan – with onions and oil and paprika – and hit Al on the head with it. And then they were down, each grabbing at the pan, letting loose minced curses, covered in diced onions and spice.
» Posted By Holden On 06.01.2015 @ 7:22 pm
It’s impossible to know how many. They move through the walls of our world, leaving behind residues the strongest of which only the most modern dim-tech can detect. Even so, we still don’t know how to predict the Quakes. Last time it struck in a town by the woods, and half the buildings were destroyed, thirty people were killed.
» Posted By Holden On 05.09.2015 @ 5:41 pm
“What’s a stencil?”
“The stencil is both the resulting image or pattern and the intermediate object; the context in which stencil is used makes clear which meaning is intended.”
She points at the google images, black-and-white marioheads, Darth Vaders, skulls, Mona Lisas, kung fu pandas, Marilyn Monroes.
“So it could be anything, then. Anything can be a stencil.”
“No,” she said, “Not everything. Not everything can both be intermediate object and the resulting image. A book, for example. A book is an intermediate object. The resulting image in your mind – there’s no telling what it might be. It’s different for everyone. A stencil, on the other hand, prints the same image over and over.”
“You don’t know what a stencil is either.” She had had to look it up.
“I just learned,” she said. She learned from a vague, one-line definition, and the definition melded with opinion into something that had turned into a fact in her head. All while he was still pondering over the definition.
» Posted By Holden On 05.04.2015 @ 4:46 pm
It was raining when they woke up. The water pelted the sides of the tents. Fortunately they had put up the tents before the storm, so it was dry inside. They had a day of hiking ahead of them, but Sandra just wanted to turn on her flashlight and spend the day reading.
Someone unzipped the tent flap. Aaron poked his head in. “Rise and shine!”
“Hasn’t anyone told you not to poke your head into the girls’ tent?”
He put on his fake-contrite look. From the folds of his coat he produced a mug of coffee. “You’re welcome,” he said, as Sandra took it. He disappeared again but left the tent unzipped.
» Posted By Holden On 02.14.2015 @ 11:10 am
Stepping over the piano. She vaulted over each black key, her steps light, playing only the notes which harmonized. He ran to keep up, but he depressed each as he ran, and they rang loudly, incongruously, vibrating his being.
» Posted By Holden On 02.08.2015 @ 8:36 am
His eyes peered out as if from battlements; his nose was a blockade; his lips, a sealed pipe. They opened only to let out sewage, before closing up again. “Leave, you’re not wanted.”
» Posted By Holden On 12.01.2014 @ 6:52 pm
We didn’t have eleven candles, so we used two, because two one’s spell out eleven. Rob didn’t seem to mind, though, at this decrease in candles from last year. “I wish… we will all be together for ever and every,” and I couldn’t help but crack a smile. There are so many other things an eleven-year old can wish for but Rob always wishes the same thing every birthday.
» Posted By Holden On 11.19.2014 @ 5:47 am
Behind the glass wall, eyes looked at me. Bright, shining, tearful eyes. I crouch in my corner and don’t look out. They can’t give me anything with their abstract mercy. They imagine their feelings penetrate and bask me in a warm glow. I feel nothing.
» Posted By Holden On 09.21.2014 @ 7:04 am
Dan wouldn’t stop talking in the car. Lisa just kept going “uh-huh.” I was trying to drive. It wasn’t the usual brief flame, when he would let out a stream of curses and then fall silent. It was a forest fire, grabbing everything within reach; he stopped his tirade to shout at the car who just cut in front of us, “F*** you! You think you’re the only guy in the world with somewhere to go today? Josh, give him a honk at least!” I just gripped the wheel tightly. The windows were all up; thankfully, the world couldn’t hear us. I wondered why I agreed to help them. Why I was friends with Dan in the first place. But I knew why. Because if we go out to a restaurant and the food was shit he would say so, and I would agree, and otherwise I would just say “fine” when the waitress asked how the meal were going. I tried to imagine getting as angry as Dan, but trying to hold anger in my mind was like trying to suspend oil in water.
“That guy just cut in front of you again! Josh, when are you going to stand up for yourself?”
» Posted By Holden On 09.14.2014 @ 7:16 am
Lisa’s hair was long and snaggy. You hear her name and you imagine hair smooth as silk, but her hair was curly and red and like a lion’s mane. Running a brush through it was like running a lawn mower through a prickly bush. It wasn’t just her hair, it was all of her: short and freckly and apt to trip over her toes. How she wished she was like Kristine, tall and blonde with hair that she could swish at all the boys sneaking looks at her! She pulled the brush through her hair, so forcefully that it ripped out her hair along with the knots. Her eyes stung with tears.
“Patience.” Her mom took the brush from her hands and Lisa tried to blink the tears away without them overflowing the cups of her eyes. Her mom the brush through the knots and she felt them snapping, one by one.
» Posted By Holden On 09.04.2014 @ 10:10 am
Brushed off, like a piece of dirt, a snaggy piece of hair. “Sorry, please, would you…?” “What part of… don’t you understand?” She’s walking away, the sun sprays her brown hair in glamour. It’s dustless, clean, smells of fruity shampoo.
» Posted By Holden On 09.04.2014 @ 9:57 am
It’s like your computer, when you plug in a USB drive and it auto-runs. Those memories have been opened on your computer a hundred times, though they aren’t physically there. That’s how it felt like, every time she saw him, was a USB drive stuck in the computer of her mind, except they weren’t happy-smiley pictures anymore, they’d been corrupted with some kind of virus, and her default was still auto-run.
» Posted By Holden On 05.03.2014 @ 2:52 am
After a while it gets tiring. Why are we all trying to do the same thing, pry each other’s fingers off the same pole that we’re climbing? I imagine instead we all shoot in different directions, branching beams of light, into the vast unknown of the universe. But I suppose then we get lonely, pretty fast.
» Posted By Holden On 03.15.2014 @ 4:23 am
It flowed out of his mouth, a foul, black goo laced with motor oil and detergent, and filled with empty cola cans, six-pack rings around the necks of small furry animals who had suffocated, take-out Styrofoam boxes, a rubber duckie, band-aids.
» Posted By Holden On 03.03.2014 @ 12:05 am
It was a sound of impatience, like the motorbike was eating up its own insides. Dick had suited up already, and it was a process of transformation–a laughing Dick with rumpled hair and his University of Maryland T-shirt who caught you up in his hugs turned into a serious Dick, as he donned his leather jacket that was like bugskin, his helmet sleek and black like a carapace. Soon his back crouched forwards, his entire attention focused on the stretch of asphalt in front of him,
» Posted By Holden On 02.25.2014 @ 12:28 am
The children all wanted to grow in different directions. Painting, math, writing, music, computers, botany. It was the job of the teachers at the Academy to prune the children. Excellence could not be achieved by spreading your branches every which-way. A tree, they said, grows best under the care of a gardener. With shears.
Tania, however, had no desire to be cut. No desire to be like one of those shapely, teardrop trees in the park, standing straight in its spot in the line.
» Posted By Holden On 02.21.2014 @ 11:49 am
We climb up the castles,
Cross the rope bridges and the monkey bars
(that’s lava below, don’t fall)
Line up in front of the Cave,
that slide into eternity,
the sun glows against its yellow, plastic walls.
» Posted By Holden On 02.16.2014 @ 2:48 am
As the semester rolls on, offset starts to accumulate. I got an extension on homework that should have gotten done last week, and turned it in barely to meet the new deadline. I was always trying to catch up with the past. A treadmill going faster and faster. It’s only a matter of time. I’ve dropped off all unnecessary belongings already. Not responding to texts, to chats, and soon they stop. It’s terrible, knowing exactly what you’ll be doing the next two weeks, and it’s all stuff you should have done already.
» Posted By Holden On 02.15.2014 @ 12:43 am
She drew glitter-glue spirals on the photo for his face, for dizziness, put a big question mark over his head, for confusion. She blew on it so that it dried, and then tacked it to her bulletin board.
The world started to spin around Dan, like someone had reached into his eyes and was spinning his brain like a top, or Frisbee. His head felt heavy, so he sank to his knees, cutting them on the concrete. He looked around and thought, where am I? He was on his way to class but now nothing looked familiar. He couldn’t remember how he got here.
» Posted By Holden On 02.12.2014 @ 12:29 am
Back To Stats Page
Bronze. The last to still get a medal.
» Posted By Holden On 02.08.2014 @ 5:00 am