Sharon Benton
Stories (9/0)
Spheres and Fears
I needed it, I didn’t know why, but the longing for it was insufferable. It hurt, like an ache in my soul. “Please. Just let me see it.” I begged. Expressionless eyes examined me from behind the glass. “Please.” I had begged and cried for so long, I would have given up but for the gnawing in my heart. “If we show it to you, will you stay?” He knew I couldn’t lie, as much as I might have wanted to, the insert prevented it. I had learned to manipulate it though, work around it for my purposes. “I will stay” I said sincerely. Deliberately not saying how long I would stay. He stared at me for what was probably seconds, but felt like hours, the pain that was already unbearable was quickly getting worse. Finally he held up his wrist and spoke “Bring it in.” My hands shook, would he really let me see it? Leaving was only a whisper in my mind behind the searing pain that I felt would soon kill me if it didn’t stop soon.
By Sharon Benton 3 years ago in Fiction
Memories on a Bench
Vivien knew she wasn’t supposed to be there. “it’s too cold today mom” she could hear the scolding in her mind. After raising six children, who’d given her 24 grandchildren and 45 great grandchildren so far (and one on the way), she was now deemed unfit to walk alone outside in late Autumn. She liked the cold, and the ducks, and the freedom. So with her little canvas bag of birdseed she walked through the park to her usual Sunday bench by the mostly ice covered pond. The birds who had adopted her through her weekly visits came running towards her, she gave them a smile rich with the wrinkles a full life brings. She reached in the bag “Just a pinch for now, you gotta wait until I sit these old bones down before you get the rest.” She sat down with all the grace and caution her age had earned her and noticed a package on the frosty bench beside her. A small box wrapped in plain brown paper. She picked it up and saw a note on it. “To the kind soul who finds this, please open with love.”
By Sharon Benton 3 years ago in Fiction
The Picnic
“I invited Julie to the party.” Sarah almost dropped a tray of sandwiches. “Julie? Mark, you invited JULIE? She hates Michael, she hates me. Why would you do that?” A mixture of anger and jealousy dripped down her face, she quickly wiped it away. “I don’t think you’ve given her a fair chance. I know she seems a little cold, but she’s had a hard life. She is still my friend, and Tana’s mother you know.” “Oh, how could I forget that your daughter who hates me has a mother who hates me? I don’t want her there Mark!” “Well, I guess you’d better toss a bottle of wine into that picnic basket, because I’ve already invited her.” Mark slammed the door as he walked out of the kitchen.
By Sharon Benton 3 years ago in Fiction
The Secret of the Staircase
“Run Elise!” His legs felt like rubber, sweat poured into his eyes. “Steven, I can’t run much longer.” She was exhausted, the bare sun beating down on her felt like carrying 50 pounds. “We have to keep running. We can’t let them take us.” He gasped for breath, never looking back, praying they’d lost their pursuers, knowing it was unlikely. The Agency was after them, the small corporation that had slowly but surely taken over the whole world. Claiming it was for the greater good, but the documents Elise and Steven had taken proved otherwise. They wanted the documents back, and they would never stop chasing them. At the top of the hill, they saw an old barn, with no other structure in sight, it seemed the only reasonable destination. “Head for the barn!” “Are you crazy? They’ll find us there for sure Steven.” “They’ll find us sooner out here, and we can’t run forever.” “I’ll barely make it there, I sure can’t run past it. Ok” . Sweaty and gulping for air they reached the old wood doors.
By Sharon Benton 3 years ago in Fiction
Spicy Memories On a Plate
This is not a story about a place I went to, it is about the place I came from, and how I brought part of it with me to a far away land. A little piece of my childhood on a plate, a familiar smell in the kitchen of good memories and loved ones.
By Sharon Benton 3 years ago in Feast
The Freedom Oak
“Where is she?” He demanded. Trista knew the answer, but she said nothing. “We know she was with you. We’ve been tracking her for months. Tell us now, and we may let you die quickly.” Silence. It seemed a lifetime ago that she and Sylvia were running through grassy fields, laughing and singing. Merrily on their way to The Object. Few knew where The Object was, even fewer knew what it was for, but Trista and Sylvia knew. Through time, efforts and a fair bit of luck, they had found the key to The Object. Humanity’s one long shot hope of redemption. But the officer knew none of this, he only knew he had orders to find the two girls, and bring them to his superiors.
By Sharon Benton 3 years ago in Fiction