Barabbas Ben

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Jan, 2021

Stories (4)

4 Stories

68 karma pts

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“A Chariot for Champions” by Barabbas Ben

Submitted to Contest #79

Author’s notes: Story inspired by “The Rainbow Bridge Poem” and dedicated to the most amazing mother who taught us Guardian Angels are all around us in every shape and size. Thank you.  The pain stopped. Suddenly. Instantly, really. That’s all I can remember. Understandably so, it had been so long since I felt free. I’m not entirely sure I ever was free. But now I am.  I feel weightless--like I’m floating, numb and clean. I don’t want to open my eyes. What if it breaks the illusion and the heaviness returns? Bound again to th...

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“Too Fast for The Inexcusables ” by Barabbas Ben

Submitted to Contest #77

It was a pounding heart one could acquire only from a desperate drive through the night with a screaming cat in the car. San Diego, California to Pueblo, Colorado: Roughly 16 hours. But I have always been an unskilled navigator, so my journey to you surpassed 24 hours. 24 spur of the moment and grueling hours. As an addict to mistakes, I, succinctly, am a slave to impulse. The tank nearly on empty and mere pennies in the bank, those final few miles on that uncharted road seemed to stretch for eternity. Just beyond eternity, however, the...

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“Where Do I Sign?” by Barabbas Ben

Submitted to Contest #76

-Mr. Sunderson? Yes, thank you for joining us today. Please, have a seat. -Here? -Yes, just there. Good. So, when the red light starts flashing please state your full name and we’ll begin.  -O. k. Frederick William Sunderson II -Good, now Mr. Sunderson, please elaborate on what brought you here today and what you understand about the study.  -Like, why I’m participating? Or what I know about Stockholm Syndrome?  -Both. If you could.  -O. k. Well, uhm. I guess I’m here because I need --well we-- we need the money. -We? -Uh...

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“Her Name is Stockholm” by Barabbas Ben

Submitted to Contest #75

A gentle grunt echoed in her chest. She pushed back her shaggy mane, alleviating the obstruction of her groggy gaze. The pale light of a late afternoon flooded the room from a large barred window of distorted glass. The rays waltzed as a muted spectrum across the faded oak floor. An undressed mattress, the girl atop it, lay centric in the barren studio. Her head spinning with hallucinated movement, the girl hoisted herself into a sitting position. She studied her body. The torn, dark gray sweatpants divulged their great age with faded and ba...

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Author bio

Loves people and words--in that order. Feel free to reach out if you'd like to workshop. Barabbas.ben@gmail.com