{"id":5549,"date":"2021-08-25T09:15:00","date_gmt":"2021-08-25T15:15:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/?p=5549"},"modified":"2023-07-05T14:40:31","modified_gmt":"2023-07-05T20:40:31","slug":"short-story-harlans-holes","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/2021\/08\/25\/short-story-harlans-holes\/","title":{"rendered":"Short Story: Harlan&#8217;s Holes"},"content":{"rendered":"<div style=\"padding-bottom:20px; padding-top:10px;text-align: center;\" class=\"hupso-share-buttons\"><!-- Hupso Share Buttons - https:\/\/www.hupso.com\/share\/ --><a class=\"hupso_toolbar\" href=\"https:\/\/www.hupso.com\/share\/\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/static.hupso.com\/share\/buttons\/dot.png\" style=\"border:0px; padding-top: 5px; float:left;\" alt=\"Share Button\"\/><\/a><script type=\"text\/javascript\">var hupso_services_t=new Array(\"Twitter\",\"Facebook\",\"Google Plus\",\"Pinterest\",\"Linkedin\",\"Tumblr\",\"StumbleUpon\",\"Digg\",\"Reddit\",\"Email\",\"Print\");var hupso_background_t=\"#EAF4FF\";var hupso_border_t=\"#66CCFF\";var hupso_toolbar_size_t=\"big\";var hupso_image_folder_url = \"\";var hupso_twitter_via=\"bxwretlind\";var hupso_url_t=\"\";var hupso_title_t=\"Short%20Story%3A%20Harlan%27s%20Holes\";<\/script><script type=\"text\/javascript\" src=\"https:\/\/static.hupso.com\/share\/js\/share_toolbar.js\"><\/script><!-- Hupso Share Buttons --><\/div>\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><em>I sat and stared at holes in my wall one day before I started writing this. I\u2019m pleased with how everything flowed together.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><em>In 2021, this story won in the Adult Category for the All Pikes Peak Writes annual competition, sponsored by the <a href=\"https:\/\/ppld.org\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noreferrer noopener\">Pikes Peak Library District<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><em>This short story is included in the collection <a href=\"https:\/\/amzn.to\/44dVQJI\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noreferrer noopener\">Regarding Dead Things on the Side of the Road<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<hr class=\"wp-block-separator has-css-opacity\"\/>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan stared at the hole. Over the past week, it had grown from a tiny dot into something slightly larger than a quarter. More than once he\u2019d gotten close to it, tried to look inside, then backed away for what he convinced himself was a lack of interest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">It was just a hole in the wall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">So what if it kept <em>growing?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">He first noticed the hole\u2014a pinprick at the time\u2014after a battle with one of those godawful cockroaches that came out every time the lights went out or the rain fell. He assumed it was nothing more than a bit of cockroach gut which had splattered across the wall when his size 12 steel-toed boot smacked the life out of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The following night, appreciatively cockroach free, Harlan took notice of the hole again, now the size of a pea. He let loose a grunt of feigned interest and turned his attention to his dinner. Five days and five dinners later\u2014still roach free\u2014the hole was spellbinding, like watching static and looking for patterns in the noise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The room Harlan occupied in the basement of Mr. Applebee\u2019s home was nothing he wanted but all he needed. If anything, it kept people from dropping by. He certainly couldn\u2019t afford one of those pleasant apartments, the ones with a kitchen and bathroom, but then again, he didn\u2019t need much. A chair, a television, and a few books were all that Harlan really wanted. Dinner came from a can. Empty Gatorade bottles and cardboard boxes worked well for collecting waste, and there was a garden hose just outside the basement\u2019s little window for that occasional shower to wash away the smells.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">What he didn\u2019t need was a growing hole in the wall. If it grew any larger, he\u2019d have to talk to Mr. Applebee upstairs, a task made more uncomfortable by a nasty mole on the old man\u2019s face. Aside from dropping off the monthly rent, conversation was practically nonexistent. Harlan liked his privacy, assumed Mr. Applebee was the same, and as long as neither one of them intruded upon the other\u2019s life, everything would be fine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">He stared again at the hole. There were things that lived in walls\u2014nasty things with horrible, gnashing teeth and blood-red eyes. At least, that\u2019s what the movies told him. Baring such evil, there was certainly something sinister behind the oddity, and the more he convinced himself it was nothing but a hole, the more his mind attempted to fill that void with nightmarish scenarios.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan knelt down a few feet away. It really was less like a hole a more like a blemish, devoid of feature. It almost hurt to look at, like a blind spot in a featureless world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">He leaned closer and blinked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The hole blinked back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><em>Surely<\/em> that was his imagination. Holes don\u2019t grow and certainly don\u2019t blink. He backed up against a far wall and stared. As unnerving as it seemed, he wanted the hole to blink again, if only to let him know his mind hadn\u2019t been playing tricks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">He slowly took a step closer. The hole stared back\u2014a single eyeball in a masonry face. With each step Harlan took, it seemed as if the eye followed him. That was insane. Eyeballs aren\u2019t in holes and holes don\u2019t blink, especially in the basement of an old man\u2019s home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">It was all bullshit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan relaxed and grabbed a blanket from the couch. He needed to get some sleep and forget about the thing in the wall that really\u2014<em>unquestionably<\/em>\u2014wasn\u2019t a thing in the wall.<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full is-resized\"><a href=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-6122\" width=\"38\" height=\"38\"\/><\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Curled into a ball on the couch, Harlan dreamed of a koi pond. It stretched end to end in his basement with a breaker box floating in the air above. The box was rusted, its door ravaged by years of neglect. Written in red paint across it was the word \u201cOUT\u201d. Below that, by some four feet, the water of the pond covered most of the stepping-stones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Mr. Applebee\u2019s wavering and ancient voice floated through the basement. \u201cCheck the breaker for me, Harlan. I think one of them is tripped. Something\u2019s wrong around here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan looked at all the fish swimming. He took a deep breath, stepped onto a stone in front of him, then gasped as the stone shifted. He fell, smacking his hip against something hard. Wincing, he reached for what had tripped him up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The stone was a skull, a hole about the size of a quarter punched through its forehead. The skull smiled its rictus grin as if to say, \u201cThat\u2019s what you get for stepping on my head.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Mr. Applebee called again. \u201cC\u2019mon, boy! Trip the damn breaker.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan opened his eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">His basement room was dark save what little light peeked through the door to the kitchen at the top of the stairs. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, tentatively checked to see if the floor was no longer a koi pond, and went back to sleep.<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full is-resized\"><a href=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-6122\" width=\"38\" height=\"38\"\/><\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cDo you have any Spackle?\u201d Harlan sat at the dinner table in Mr. Applebee\u2019s kitchen, his leg bouncing nervously.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cYou got a hole?\u201d Mr. Applebee rolled his belly around in his hands before taking a seat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cHad a hole. Now got two.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cHmm.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan stared at the old man, but the sight of the mole\u2014with an inch-long gray hair sticking out of it\u2014made his stomach uneasy. He supposed it was just a symptom of old age, but the man was not blind. Didn\u2019t the thing wave back at him when he looked in the mirror?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cWell?\u201d Harlan asked. \u201cDo you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cWhere are the holes?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cIn the wall. Far side of the basement. They\u2019re\u2014\u201d Harlan cut himself short. Did he really want to say they were growing? Why not tell him one of them blinked? He looked back at Mr. Applebee and tried again to avoid the mole.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cAin\u2019t got any.\u201d Mr. Applebee cleared his throat. \u201cSorry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full is-resized\"><a href=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-6122\" width=\"38\" height=\"38\"\/><\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The second hole grew faster than the first. Within a day, it was nearly the same size.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Neither of them blinked, however.<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full is-resized\"><a href=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-6122\" width=\"38\" height=\"38\"\/><\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The koi pond was no longer full of koi. The skull he\u2019d stepped on in the last dream stared up at Harlan as he stood in the water. The breaker box with the red \u201cOUT\u201d across the door still hung over the middle of the pond. If dreams had meaning\u2014and Harlan was never one to discount the vividness of the subconscious\u2014then the breaker box must mean something relative to his life. Maybe it was asking him to trip his own fuse, force himself back into some semblance of life where electricity actually flowed through his synapses like other people, the happy people on the television. Was living in a basement with two holes in the wall that stared at him and eating out of a can <em>really<\/em> a way to live? Certainly the meager sum he coaxed from the government and a few odd jobs couldn\u2019t sustain life past thirty. Could it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The skull rolled over, the jaw left behind. Harlan reached down and picked it up. The hole in the top of the skull seemed like a third eye, staring at some far off place that he could only know if he were in the skull\u2019s situation. It was a strange skull, almost bleach white, more like a model from a biology classroom than the dingy yellow he expected to see.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">He dropped the skull in the pond and looked up at the breaker box. For the first time, Harlan noticed the door standing ajar, inviting him to look inside. He tentatively took a step toward it. Another step, and he was within five feet of the box, almost close enough to reach out and swing the door open.<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full is-resized\"><a href=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-6122\" width=\"38\" height=\"38\"\/><\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan woke in a sweat. Light filtered in through the small window. On the wall, the second hole had grown to be the same size as the first.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Stretched below, shaped like a jagged smile, a crack had appeared.<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full is-resized\"><a href=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-6122\" width=\"38\" height=\"38\"\/><\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cLook, I really need some Spackle. The holes have grown and I\u2019m afraid critters might find a nest.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Mr. Applebee turned from the counter, his fat following him in slow motion. He lowered rimless glasses and peered at Harlan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cGrown?\u201d Mr. Applebee grunted and waddled toward the table. \u201cHoles don\u2019t grow unless you make them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan tapped his finger on the table. \u201cI need Spackle.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cYou want to cover up the holes?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cAnd the crack.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cThe <em>crack<\/em>? You didn\u2019t tell me about a crack.\u201d Mr. Applebee took a sip of coffee from a stained cup and set it back down. \u201cAre you up to something down there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cNo, I\u2019m not.\u201d Harlan unconsciously stared at the mole, the hair waving back and forth\u2014a single blade of gray grass in a liver-spotted field. \u201cDo you have anything to cover the holes?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cWell, now, let me see.\u201d Mr. Applebee took another sip. The hair fluttered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cForget it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full is-resized\"><a href=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-6122\" width=\"38\" height=\"38\"\/><\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The crack opened slightly from the previous night, while the two holes remained the same size. No matter which way Harlan looked at the wall, there was now a face in it. He still hadn\u2019t seen the holes blink again, and almost convinced himself that the first time was his unfettered, can-fed imagination.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Without further thought, he picked up two socks and a pair of yellowed underwear from the floor and stuffed them in the holes. It wasn\u2019t what he wanted, but it broke up the scene enough to make it look less like a face and more like two socks and dirty underwear in a wall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">He stretched out on the couch, sighed and closed his eyes, waiting to dream of koi and electrical things.<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full is-resized\"><a href=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-6122\" width=\"38\" height=\"38\"\/><\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The koi nibbled at his ankles. Harlan kicked a few times, then gave up. They were koi\u2014fat carp with annoying designs on their scales. How much damage could nibbling koi do?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The breaker box called to him again, and he obliged, pushing past the koi in the pond to get closer. He reached the door and swung it open. Just like he suspected\u2014but more of a surprise than a relief\u2014there were sixteen switches, eight on the right and eight on the left. He looked at the numbers and tried to pair them up with the faded sticker on the back of the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">On the sticker was a list of names. Were they indications of the room they controlled? There was no one else in the house except for Mr. Applebee. Harlan guessed someone had created the list long before he moved in. Then again, it was a dream and if the breaker box was supposed to represent something his subconscious wanted him to see, then it made more sense that nothing really made sense.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cWhere\u2019s my name?\u201d He listened to his voice echo in his dream basement. It bounced off the walls and returned to him in vibrations that registered through his body. Talking was a bad idea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">He looked at the first three names: Marcus Whitney, Joyce Dublin, Douglas Homan. None of them were names he recognized. They were mysteries, just like the breaker box, the koi, and those damned holes in the wall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan wiped dirt off the list and read the rest of the left side. No familiar names. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe this dream was nothing more than a twisted expression of misfired synapses.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Then again, this was the <em>third<\/em> time it happened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">He shrugged his dream shoulders, kicked a dream koi off his ankle, and read the right side. David Brady, Harlan Hutchings, Richard Chiz\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><em>Harlan Hutchings?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Written in faded red ink was his name. Reading it, however, made more sense than reading the names of people he knew he\u2019d never met or wanted to meet. He noted the number next to his name and looked at the switch. Sure enough, the damn thing had been tripped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Just as he reached up to turn it back on, a koi took a bite out of his foot.<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full is-resized\"><a href=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-6122\" width=\"38\" height=\"38\"\/><\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cDid you read the rest of the list?\u201d The wall\u2019s voice sounded concrete, solid, and maybe a little dry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan couldn\u2019t move. The socks and underwear were on the ground, and in place of the holes were two very distinct eyes. The crack had widened a little more and grew lips, albeit cracked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cWell, did you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full is-resized\"><a href=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-6122\" width=\"38\" height=\"38\"\/><\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cLook, if you don\u2019t have any Spackle, do you have some boards and nails?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Mr. Applebee shifted his weight, jiggling the left breast. He coughed and took a sip from his cup. \u201cYou want to nail boards into the wall?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cTo close the holes.\u201d Damn that mole. \u201cAnd the crack.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cRight. The crack.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan knew he would not listen. The man was an idiot with a huge, hairy mole.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cWell, now, let me see.\u201d Mr. Applebee took another long sip. \u201cNope. Can\u2019t say I do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cFine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full is-resized\"><a href=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-6122\" width=\"38\" height=\"38\"\/><\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The face greeted Harlan as he stepped off the stairs. \u201cHow ya doing?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cNot well.\u201d Why was he talking to a wall? For that matter, why was the wall talking to him?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cDid you get the boards and nails?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cHow about Spackle?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The wall seemed to let out a sigh of relief. \u201cAre you ready to listen to me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full is-resized\"><a href=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-6122\" width=\"38\" height=\"38\"\/><\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The next dream was more or less the same with one distinction: where there was a skull before that seemed to smile at him, there was now a head that <em>definitely<\/em> smiled back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">He stepped around the head without a body and waded toward the breaker box. He thought he felt the eyes follow him, and in his dream world, the head even licked its lips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan stopped and looked back. The head indeed watched him as its tongue glided across its top lip. Just above the eyebrows, right in the middle, was the same hole he\u2019d seen when the head was a skull.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">He turned from the head to the breaker box and swung open the rusty door. He ran through the list of names again, looking past his own. Number 4 belonged to Nancy Jensen, then Petra Miles\u2014more names he didn\u2019t recognize. Right under the fifth name, however, was a faded group of letters. They were hastily scribbled unlike the others, the ink lighter. It looked like someone had tried to rub it off. Harlan gave up reading the first name, but the last name he pieced together: <em>Applebee<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The fat, mole-faced old coot upstairs had infiltrated his dream. Harlan looked at the corresponding switch. It had been tripped, just like his.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><em>What the hell?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cSo, flip it back.\u201d A man\u2019s voice echoed through the room, the four words resonating through Harlan\u2019s body in waves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">He turned to the severed head. \u201cWhat did you say?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cFlip it back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan looked back to the switch and reached for his own.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The head coughed as if to get Harlan\u2019s attention. \u201cSo, you\u2019re stupid, right?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cExcuse me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cWell, to reset a breaker, what to you have to do?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cTurn it off, then back on.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">If the head could nod, Harlan imagined it would have done so. Instead, it stared back while running its tongue across its upper lip. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cOh,\u201d said Harlan, and he took a step back from the breaker box.<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full is-resized\"><a href=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-6122\" width=\"38\" height=\"38\"\/><\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cReady now?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan sighed, sat on the couch and stared at the two holes and crack in the wall. It wanted to chat, and who was he to ignore the plea of broken masonry? He snickered. <em>If walls could talk, indeed.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cMr. Applebee isn\u2019t right in the head.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cI hadn\u2019t noticed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cListen and don\u2019t talk.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cSorry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cYou\u2019re the fifteenth person to live here, in the basement. He doesn\u2019t charge much rent so he can lure the degenerates of the world, those who, themselves, aren\u2019t exactly right in the head.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cThanks.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cNot a problem. Just pointing out things you already know. How many koi did you count in your dreams?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cFive.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cThere were thirteen. You\u2019re not very observant.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cAnd the severed head?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cNumber fourteen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cAnd me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cNumber fifteen. You\u2019re next on the list.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cNext for what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cI think you know the answer to that question.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan sat back. A wall just told him he was in danger. The dreams he had must have been messages imparted by whatever was living in the wall and making it talk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Why not? If the wall could talk, why couldn\u2019t it also invade his dreams?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Weird stuff.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan raised a finger as if to make a point, opened his mouth to relay that point, then simultaneously closed his mouth and put his finger down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cYou want to know what to do about it, right?\u201d The wall looked as forlornly as a wall could.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cSure.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cFlip the circuit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cFlip it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cThat\u2019s all?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cFlip it off, then leave it off. What do you think the breaker box controls? If everyone was given the chance to see the breaker boxes that hang all over this world, there\u2019d be a lot fewer people to see the breaker boxes that hang all over this world.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan nodded. \u201cFine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full is-resized\"><a href=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/sep.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-6122\" width=\"38\" height=\"38\"\/><\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">He slept. It wasn\u2019t easy, and he tossed about on the couch until fatigue beat out fear and a mind racing with more questions for the wall. Despite the trouble getting to sleep, the koi pond, breaker box and severed head came to his dreams.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cSo, are you going to do it?\u201d The head licked its upper lip. If a severed head could bob up and down in anticipation, Harlan imagined that was exactly what it was doing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cSettle down. I\u2019ll do it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The head smiled. Harlan stepped over a few koi and walked to the breaker box. The door seemed more rusted, and he finally understood what the word \u201cOUT\u201d scrawled in red letters really meant. It was a release, and the breaker box was nothing more than an ethereal life switch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">He swung the door open and looked for \u201cApplebee\u201d, or the rubbed-off semblance of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">There it was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Number 6.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">On the right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">This was it, a chance to save himself from becoming the fifteenth victim, a side note in the pages of history, a severed head or a ghostly koi swimming aimlessly in a dream pond in the basement of a demented man\u2019s home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cDo it!\u201d The head\u2019s voice echoed through the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan reached up&#8230;and stopped. A thought, a memory, crept up and bit into him. Why, in the first dream, did Mr. Applebee call out to him? Why did he ask to check the breaker box? Did he know something was wrong with him, that his life was somehow not right, and he needed Harlan\u2019s help to get it started again?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The head growled. \u201cTurn the thing off!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">There <em>had<\/em> to be a reason. His own switch was tripped\u2014like his own life. He knew he couldn\u2019t flip it off and on again to save himself, but what if Mr. Applebee was crying out for help? What if Harlan\u2014given this gift by the ghosts and spirits and otherworldly fish and basement walls\u2014now had the power to put back into place a life that was off?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cWhat are you waiting for?\u201d The head\u2019s voice was steely through the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cI\u2019m not sure this is the right thing to do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cHe\u2019s a killer. Look at my forehead. Do you think I grew a third eye just for the hell of it? Do you think a talking severed head is <em>normal<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan looked at the head again, surrounded by koi. They all seemed to look right at him, pining for justice. He felt like an executioner standing next to John Wayne Gacy, seeing all the faces in the crowd waiting for him to carry out the one thing they could not, the one thing of which they were incapable. And not because each of the faces in the crowd didn\u2019t want to, but because they couldn\u2019t legally carry out the sentence. Here, though, in the dream basement koi pond of Harlan\u2019s mind, he could do what no one else had the power to do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Harlan reached back to the breaker without looking and flipped the switch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Number 2.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Right side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Wrong switch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<hr class=\"wp-block-separator has-css-opacity\"\/>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><a href=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/short-stories-excerpts-and-other-things\/\">Read more Short Stories, Excerpts and Poems<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">All text copyright 2021, Benjamin X. Wretlind<\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"aligncenter size-full is-resized\"><a href=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/harlans-holes.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/harlans-holes.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-6126\" width=\"672\" height=\"416\" srcset=\"https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/harlans-holes.jpg 896w, https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/harlans-holes-300x186.jpg 300w, https:\/\/bxwretlind.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/09\/harlans-holes-768x476.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 672px) 100vw, 672px\" \/><\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div><div style=\"padding-bottom:20px; padding-top:10px;text-align: center;\" class=\"hupso-share-buttons\"><!-- Hupso Share Buttons - https:\/\/www.hupso.com\/share\/ --><a class=\"hupso_toolbar\" href=\"https:\/\/www.hupso.com\/share\/\"><img decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/static.hupso.com\/share\/buttons\/dot.png\" style=\"border:0px; padding-top: 5px; float:left;\" alt=\"Share Button\"\/><\/a><script type=\"text\/javascript\">var hupso_services_t=new Array(\"Twitter\",\"Facebook\",\"Google Plus\",\"Pinterest\",\"Linkedin\",\"Tumblr\",\"StumbleUpon\",\"Digg\",\"Reddit\",\"Email\",\"Print\");var hupso_background_t=\"#EAF4FF\";var hupso_border_t=\"#66CCFF\";var hupso_toolbar_size_t=\"big\";var hupso_image_folder_url = \"\";var hupso_twitter_via=\"bxwretlind\";var hupso_url_t=\"\";var hupso_title_t=\"Short%20Story%3A%20Harlan%27s%20Holes\";<\/script><script type=\"text\/javascript\" src=\"https:\/\/static.hupso.com\/share\/js\/share_toolbar.js\"><\/script><!-- Hupso Share Buttons --><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>I sat and stared at holes in my wall one day before I started writing this. I\u2019m pleased with how everything flowed together. In 2021, this story won in the Adult Category for the All Pikes Peak Writes annual competition, sponsored by the Pikes Peak Library District.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":6126,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[54,4,122],"tags":[55,13,126,12],"class_list":["post-5549","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-excerpts","category-regarding-dead-things-on-the-side-of-the-road","category-short-story","tag-excerpts-2","tag-regarding-dead-things","tag-short-story","tag-writing"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v27.6.1 (Yoast SEO v27.8) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/product\/yoast-seo-premium-wordpress\/ -->\n<title>Short Story: Harlan&#039;s Holes - Benjamin X. 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