Daryl Benson
Bio
Just trying to write a little on the side to see if anything can come of it.
Stories (28/0)
Rerio
The lonely seaside village, nestled in the rough outcropping of rocks along the protected bay, swayed in the stillness of the dawn. The waves came with the tides and crashed the misty waters across the breaks in the old paving stones. Generations of waters had shined and polished the stones as smooth as glass. The waters dancing across the morning sunrise, they sparked their mysteries to those who would approach. The mysteries that only those who know the sea, those that have lived the sea, truly know.
By Daryl Benson3 years ago in Fiction
The Cottage
She sat alone in the dark, in the early morning hours. Just listening. It was her time of the day. Before the stresses of the day weighed down on her shoulders. She stared out over the ocean, watching, and listening to the waves roll over the beach. The water glistening and sparking as the sun just began to crest over the horizon. The world, slowly coming to life in the break of day. The birds had been singing throughout the still darkness, but now the cresting sun shown over their wings as they glided throughout the crisp morning air.
By Daryl Benson3 years ago in Fiction
Xocoatl Kaka
She stood over the ovens; the heat was blistering. But she took some sense of pride in the work. Thinking back on her earlier years she never would have thought her life would land here. Swelting over and in ovens, she melted into the work. Today she was making crisp tarts from apples that the men had gathered from the orchards. The banquet was planned for two days from now, and she was tasked by her masters to cook for the festivities.
By Daryl Benson3 years ago in Fiction
The Bully
She looked at the ground, entirely dejected. “You know he will be back Brutus.” “Maybe, Clarissa,” said Brutus. She sniffled. Brutus could barely look her in the eye, the sorrow truly did eat away at him. “He always comes back, Brutus. You know this. He comes here and terrorizes us. And what can we possibly do about it!”
By Daryl Benson3 years ago in Fiction
The World Grows Smaller as Networks Grow Larger
We live in a world that is entirely immersed now in the digital reality. The common catch phrase the last several years has been digital transformation, as every business tries to adapt and grow into a revolving digital world. The simple truth is that the world is forever growing smaller, and this is further accomplished by every communication line we dig into the ground.
By Daryl Benson3 years ago in 01
The Ashen Horse
The dead banker body was completely lifeless. Her blood slowly seeping into the ground. The grass appeared slightly dry, and it actually looked like it welcomed the steady flow of blood that was leaching around it. The woman watched a flower that the banker had somehow missed when she collapsed, appear to open it’s leaves and pedals as the blood oozed near it. Interesting. She didn’t know if she had ever taken the time to observe that before.
By Daryl Benson3 years ago in Horror
He Had No Name
Slay-Wolf-of-Night rose in the early morning, the chill still very real but less oppressive than it had been on the heights. He still longed for the coat, but the cold was not as bitter as it had been. He should have already been back with his people, but the travel was slow. It had been three days now since he had seen the corpse of the wolf he had killed.
By Daryl Benson3 years ago in Humans
The Ashen Horse
They landed in ATL; the landing so slick it was like glancing on ice. Tim was so impressed he almost clapped. He didn’t travel too much, but he traveled enough to appreciate the pilot’s skill. Check off flying expertise for this guy. He grouped up with the rest of the team at baggage claim.
By Daryl Benson3 years ago in Horror
He Had No Name
The Boy with no name woke in the morning. The pain was still so vivid he cringed and gasped. He had grown cold in the night, with the altitude blowing autumn winds over his battered body. He should have brought the blanket, he silently begrudged himself of his fake bravado as he shivered laying on the cold ground. The embers of his fire having gone out long before the morning’s sun started peaking over the mountain range. He wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t precisely sure what he could do. His wounds were not idly dismissed. He was severely wounded. He didn’t think he was mortally wounded but if any of his injuries got infected, he surely would die.
By Daryl Benson3 years ago in Horror
Hope From Another
He wore a pristine black suit. It was perfectly tailored to his physique. White shirt, pressed, starched, not a wrinkle in sight. Blue tie, bright, but not flamboyant, and subtlety cascading into the colors of the rich black jacket. Flawless, it was spectacular. He had spent the entire previous night shinning the shoes until they glossed a perfect reflection. Sitting in the hotel room he had lost himself in the memories as he blankly stared at those shoes, eloquent executive wingtips. And he had polished, and polished. Clean the dust off, dry, shine, oil, shine, oil, shine. Rhythmic work, repeatable work. His memories took him to his previous years, in the arms of his young bride, his lover.
By Daryl Benson3 years ago in Petlife
The Ashen Horse
She had flown into Atlanta last week. The week had been full of continuous scouting and patrolling. It felt good to be working again after taking several weeks off after the events in Salt Lake City. She had accepted this contract eagerly. It was honestly a sad tale in a way, a religious leader that had been reported to fondle young children. She took her art seriously and never wanted to belittle it too greatly, but every now and then she really did take pride in her work. This job would be a masterpiece.
By Daryl Benson3 years ago in Horror
He Had No Name
The Boy had no name, for he had yet to be deemed worthy of it. The Boy would seek his name. The name that the Blessed Spirit would give him. His elders had taught him, that he must earn his name. For the name that he would wield would be sacred. He must aspire to be given a name that was worthy of his family, and his ancestors. He quested, for his name. He must find it.
By Daryl Benson3 years ago in Horror
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