Feb 13
H20.hollym's picture

The Shaft of Light

The familiar chimes jingle,
alerting me that someone is coming through the door.
I look up from my position behind the old mahogany counter in the dark store.
The door is slowly opening, letting in a beam of light
where the dust particles sparkle like magic.
And through the light, you enter
and stand there, in the shaft of light.
You stand there and look up at me underneath
your chocolate - colored hair swept to the side,
your green eyes hopeful, 
biting your lip in the adorable way that you always do.
But your eyes flicker at my pause
because you know that I can't do this. 
So I shake my head back and forth ever so subtly,
biting my lip now,
and look down at the dusty gray floorboards.
I look back up to see that you're gone,
and the door eats up the shaft of light,
the magic particles disappear,
and with a bang, the door shuts and the chimes jingle once more,
and then 
Feb 10
fiction 1 comment challenge: Letter
H20.hollym's picture

The Ugly and The Beautiful

Dear Little One, 
I welcome you to this world as your tiny clenched fists open and close for the first time,
as you use your voice for the first time,
as you open your eyes for the first time,
as the first spark ignites in your mind.
I welcome you to planet earth, to this world.
There are many beautiful truths in this world,
and many ugly ones. 
Ones that often make me crave a different world, but see, little one, this is our reality.
So as you open your eyes for the first time,
take in the beauties, and the horrors.
Flourish through the beautiful things,
but don't let yourself get mired down in the uglies.
Because today you have been given the gift of a life in this world,
but also the tools to change it.
So as you see the ugly things, little one,
ignite that spark in your mind,
speak it with your newly found voice,
and use your newly opened hands to change them.
Feb 08
fiction 0 comments challenge: Art
H20.hollym's picture

If My Life Was A Piece of Art

If my life was a piece of art
it would be a collage,
messy, abstract, pictures layered on top of eachother,
all different mediums,
some painted, some sketched,
some dark, some light,
some pictures missing half, 
some rather blurry.
The world the way I see it:
A picture of books all sunshiny yellow, radiating light.
A girl nordic skiing in the middle of pristine woods.
A heart drawn with colored pencils but half washed away.
The outline of the head of a girl, and inside it, a girl all tucked away in the corner of a dark room.
Hallways of a school with kids painted in black paint.
A sketch of a polluted earth.
A picture of a purple feminist pin.
Lettering of the name Clarke.
A beatiful one-eyed golden retreiver shaded with colored pencil.
A drawing of a girl where half of her face is crying, and the other half smiling a beatiful light smile.

Picture layered over picture,
Jan 29
H20.hollym's picture

I Hope You Know

I hope you know
That this man does not represent us.
That his actions do not reflect the values of our country.
America is diverse.
We accept people from all over and that is what makes us strong.
Keeping you out because of a small percent of people
from the majority of your religon
makes a lot of our hearts ache,
and our minds protest.
I hope you know this.

I hope you know that 
even though he was elected as our president,
the majority of the people that voted in our country
did not vote for him. 
Millions gathered and protested all over our country
the day after he was inaugurated.
We beleive in men
and in women.
I hope you know this.

I wish that the some of you 
that are held up at customs in the airport right now
could see the thousands
protesting just outside,
along with the rest of you in your countries.
Jan 27
H20.hollym's picture

Vermont Writes Day Prompts

1. If you could change one thing about the world, or society, what would it be? Explain
2. Do you have a motto for yourself or your life? If not, make one! Write.
3. You start a secret society to accomplish something good in the world. What would your mission be? Write.
4. What is the thing, person, value, etc. that you put above all? 
5. What is your spirit animal/ what animal do you think accurately represents you?
6. What do you think the biggest flaw in our society is?
7. If you could "bake" a best friend, what would you put in them?
8. If you could go back and give your younger self advice, what would you tell them? What have you learned as you have grown?

Jan 10
H20.hollym's picture

The Boy

The moon illuminates the dusky gray sky,
the jagged rocky cliffs, and the icy waves splashing against them.
And on the highest outcropping, a silhouette.
Of a boy, 
with jet black hair.
He takes a few steps back, and launches himself off the cliff.
His arms outstretched, palms up, like his face, which is pointing at the sky.
His eyes are closed as he sinks slowly through the air,
and when he reaches halfway,
he slows, and hangs there,
and time passes.
The moon sinks, and just as the edge of the sun becomes visible, he sinks slowly into the now calm waters.

Jan 03
H20.hollym's picture

Slipping Through the Fingers of Reality

Why do we read?
Why do we immerse ourselves in hundreds and hundreds of pages belonging to thickly bound books?
Why do I spend hours in these worlds, lives, of others, so desperate to have their lives turn out okay?
Why do I spend my life
on theirs?
On characters and worlds that aren't even real.
My English teacher says that we read to hear voices, or storys that haven't been heard.
Sure, that comes along with it, but I think, 
No, rather,
I know,
that I read
because I prefer worlds alternate to my own.
Reading is my releif, my escape.
I read to slip through the fingers of reality for stolen moments,
only to scooped back up
yet again.
Dec 07
H20.hollym's picture


The crowd floods the street, 
limited by the buildings that border it.
I let myself be carried with them, 
the thousands of faces that make up the water.
The roar is overwhelming, 
and panic threatens take me.
I stop in my tracks,
refusing to submit to the tide.
The crowd parts around me,
as if I am a stone in a river.
People, each one different from the next.
All unfamiliar faces, unknown waters.
And then I see it,
a familiar face in a sea of unknown.
She appears at the crest of a wave,
and I stare into the eyes of the most familiar face I have ever seen.
And just as quickly as she appears,
she is swept away by the water. 
The crowd pushes from all sides,
demanding I let them sweep me away

I let myself be swept away by the unknown waters,
because no face
will ever be as familar
as my own.
Nov 30
poem 0 comments challenge: Home
H20.hollym's picture

Mind Home

If you knew her well enough, you would be able to tell speaking to her, looking at her, watching her,
that you are only seeing half of a person. 
Her person is physically in this world, 
but that is only half of the equation.
The other half is in her mind,
in her thoughts.
Somewhere else,
in a place that no one has acess to,
no one knows. 
And so no one knows that other half of her person.
She bleeds through sometimes,
she gives the real world little glimpses here and there,
of this half of a person that no one knows. 
This part of her is almost like a dog in a dog house
that doesn't come out. 
However if you watch long enough, 
you might catch a glimpse.
But in this case,
the half of her is the dog,
and her mind is the doghouse.

Oct 06
H20.hollym's picture


We sit there hushed,
Kids frantically whispering.
I don't remember what they said,
But now everyone is listening.

The school cafeteria
Is always filled with sound.
Overflowing with noise,
Roudy and loud.

The lunch aids are chatting,
Casually hanging around,
On the prowl, like always,
But today there is no one to settle down.

I catch some of the whispers,
"ambulance outside," and "attack, we're dead"
But middle school rumors 
Are something you should never let to your head.

But something is in the air,
I feel it deep inside of me, along
With everyone else in this school cafeteria,
A deep tugging dread that something is