The Hol[ ]y Tape
“I’m lost. Out of food. Low on water. No sense of direction. Oh god… [ ]
So be[ ]ins the Holloway Tape—Holloway leering into the camera, a backdrop of a wall, final moments in a man’s life. These are jarring pieces, coherent only in the way they trace a de[ ]line…
Who can forget Holloway’s grizzled features as he [ ]urns the camera on hi[ ]self?
No comfort now. No hope of rescue or return.
“I deserve this. I brought this all on me. But I’m s[ ] sorry. I’m so[ ]rry,” he says in Part 2. “But what does that matter? I shot them. I shot both of [ ]em. [Long pause] Half a canteen of water’s all I’ve left. [Another pause] Shouldn’t have let them get way then I [ ]have returned, told everyone they g[ ]lost … lost.” And with that last utterance, Holloway’s eyes reveal who here is realy lost… “I’m Holloway Roberts.” he insists. “Born in Menomonie, Wi[ ]n. Bachelor’s from U. Mass. Explorer, professional hunter, [ ]eth. [Long pause] This is not right. It’s not fair. I don’t [ ]serve to die.”
Parts 4[ ]6,[ ]10, & 1 centre on Holloway’s reiteration of his identity. Part 3, however, is different. It only lasts four seconds. With eyes wide open, voice hoarse, lips split and bleeding, Hol[ ]y barks “I’m not alone.” Part 5 folows up with, “There’s something here. I’m sure of it now.” Part 8 with: “It’s following me. No, it’s stalking me.” And Part 9: “But it won’t strike. It’s just out there waiting. I don’t know what for. But it’s near now, waiting for me, waiting for something. I don’t know why it doesn’t [ ] Oh god … Holloway Roberts. Menomonie, Wisconsin. [chambering a round in his rifle] Oh god[ ].”(292)…
Of course, Part 13 or rather “Last” of The Holloway Tape initiates the largest and perhaps most popular debate surrounding The Navidson Record. Latern C. Pitch ad Kadina Ashbeckie stand on opposite ends of the spectrum, one favoring an actual monster, the other opting for a ratioal explantion. Neither one, however, succeeds in [ ] a definitive interpretation.
Last spring, Pitch in the Pelias Lecture Seres announced: “Of course there’s a beast! And I assure you our belief or disbelief makes very littled difference to that thing!”(293) In American Photo (May 1996, p. 154) Kadina Ashbeckie wrte: “Death of light gives birth to a creature-darkness few can accept as pureabsence. Thus despite rational objectons, technology’s failure is overun by the onslaught of myth.”(294)
And in Navidson’s house that faceless black i many myths incarnate.
“Ce ne peut etre que la fin du monde, en avancant,” Rimbaud dryly remarked. Suffice it to say, Holloway does not [ ]French for his end. Instead he props up his ieo camera, ignites a magnesium flare, and crosses the room to the far end, where he slumps in the corner to wait. Sometimes he mumbles [ ]hiself, sometimes he screams obscenities [ ] to the void: “Bullshit! Bullshit! Just try and get me you motherfucker!” And then as the minutes creak by, his energy dips. “[ ] I don’t want to die, this [ ]” words coming out like a sigh—sad and lost. He lights another flare, tosses it toward the camera, then pushes the rifle against his chest and shoots himself. [ ]Jill Ramsey Pelterlock wrote, “In that place, the absence of an end finally became his own end.”(300)
Unfortunately, Holloway is not entire[ ] s[ ]ssful. For exactly two minutes and 28 seconds he groans and twitches in his own blood, until fin[ ] he slip into shock and presumably death. (301) Then for 46 seconds the am[ ]reveals nothing else but his still body. Nearly a minute of s[ ]ence. In fact, the length is so absurd that it almst appears as if Navidson forgot to trim this section. After all there is nothing more to [ ] gained from this scene. Holloway is dead. Which is [ ]act[ ] when it happns.
The whole thing clocks in under tw seconds. Fingers of blackness slash across the lighted wall and consume Holloway. And even if [ ] loses sight of everything, the tape still records that terrible growl, this time without a doubt, insie the room.
Was it an actual cr[ ]t[ ]e?(303) Or just the flare sputtering out? And what about the sound? Was it made by a be[ ] or jus aother reconfigration of that absurd space; like the Khumbu Icefall; product of ome peculiar physics?
It seems erronous to assert, like Pitch, that this creat[ ]e had actual teeth and claws of b[ ]e (which myth for some reason [ ] requires). [ ]t dd have claws, they were made of shadow and if it did have teth, they were made of darkness. Yet even as such the [ ] still stalked Hollway at every corner until at last it did strike, devouring him, even roaring, the last thing heard, the sound f Holloway ripped out of existence.:|
Mark Z. Danielewski / House of Leaves>