Jeremiah Benson

“The Driver” by Jeremiah Benson

The minds in this story aren’t real. They’re possible. The story takes place on a Tuesday afternoon in a world that's without time. This story is one of the many tragic events that took place, in telling it I hope to share just one of the many perspectives. If you wish to derive a lesson from the story, I’ll tell you now: There’s none.I was driving Mr. ---- to the airport. The traffic was truly unreasonable. It appeared everyone in the city was leaving simultaneously. To make matters stranger, Mr. ---- hadn’t said a word since I picked ...

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“The Map Is The Territory” by Jeremiah Benson

Submitted to Contest #124

He was a strange-looking man with an even stranger agenda, often spending his days interrogating well-meaning pedestrians on the street. Do you believe in God? He asked. Me? Well, I’m not sure. I’ve never given it a good thought. Do you believe in God? He asked again, refusing any answer besides a clear yes or no. I believe in something, maybe not God, but something.Many were frightened to interact with the man due to his intimidating physical stature; he was shaped like a large and grotesque beetle; he even embodied the mannerisms of one, o...

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“Gustav's Monologue” by Jeremiah Benson

Submitted to Contest #123

It's something about the way he moves, I swear.See, right there! The way his heel slightly elevated off the floor, it was masterful.Take notes fellas, we're watching a genius of theater in the flesh.I hope he stays longer, he said he's only going to be here for a couple of shows.I can feel myself getting better already. His presence is rubbing off.Yeah, me too.Silence, he's about to perform the monologue.Gosh he's amazing.At the end of Gustav's performance, all the actors and actresses left the vicinity. There was no use, they thought, indee...

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“A Box of Memory” by Jeremiah Benson

Submitted to Contest #123

"I was ashamed of myself when I realized life was a costume party; and I attended with my real face." - Franz KafkaMy life has always felt like a horizontal free fall. When I look back, all I can collect are the few momentary fragments, distilled from the greater stream they once ran through. I lay out the puzzle pieces in different arrangements, but none of the sequences make it clear. I pull out a photograph from when I was just 18 years old: we're smiling under the warm Mediterranean sun. The photo was taken right after completing the hik...

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“The Theater” by Jeremiah Benson

Submitted to Contest #123

To look down from the stage is to see the world in its many pieces. Of course, from the audience's view, we are but pawns and rooks, knights and queens, sliding across the stage according to the kings' bidding; but we do so only for their amusement. In truth, we are free. We are free because we are aware that it's all a lie.After each night's performance, I return back into the world as a fool. Last evening I was asked to accompany Isabelle, a young Portuguese woman I only met briefly, to an event of nobles. Before we left she made it clear ...

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“RESTART” by Jeremiah Benson

Submitted to Contest #104

We hear a voice, although it's not clear where it is coming from. Our eyes open and reveal a spotless and sparse room with only the essential pieces of furniture. Everything in the room is coaxed in a white plastic laminate. There's a a young girl, around 16 or 17, laying with her belly against the bed and her heels kicking her butt. "Are you coming tonight?" We can finally hear that it's Brandon and he sounds irritated, as if he has asked the question 100 times now. From the girls view we see a hallucinatory world. An immersive ambie...

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“Microwavable Dinner For Two” by Jeremiah Benson

Submitted to Contest #104

“Do you actually expect me to go outside and risk getting both mugged and stabbed? Even if I planned my exit perfectly, so that I left just as the hoodlums were mugging and stabbing someone else, or during their lunch-break(which would require intel I do not have), then you would also be, by the principal of mathematical induction, expecting me to get inside a vehicle- which is laughable in of itself. Planes, buses, trains, or taxis are off limits, for if I must die then it will be under my own control. Now, let us imagine the unlikely event...

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“The Perfect Girl” by Jeremiah Benson

Submitted to Contest #104

I wasn’t sure where I was headed in life. I woke up to a new woman in my bed and found her repulsive. I’m not sure if I ever knew where I was headed. She smelled like a skunk. I couldn't believe it. I turned over to what I thought to be an angel and there she was, a beast of a woman. What was I thinking? You know, I never know what I’m thinking until I’ve already thought it. It’s a funny thing. Even right now who knows what thoughts are occurring, that’s why after she asked what I was thinking, I told her to leave. But now in retrospect, it’...

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“Lucid” by Jeremiah Benson

Submitted to Contest #103

Salt-ridden winds came in like curtains from the coast, layering every surface touched in a sheet of translucent stone. The roads were undrivable, the air was unbreathable, the townspeople of Seafarer were trapped as salt accreted over their sea-side homes. News stations covered the story, broadcasting juxtaposed images of a once vibrant destination, flooded with sun-kissed teenagers and elderly with skin like Tuscan leather, to a now barren landscape where white blankets of salt and rain profusely swept over. It was unknown if any ...

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“A Robot Visits Brazil” by Jeremiah Benson

Submitted to Contest #103

“I am awake,” Xarl said in a digitized voice. Xarl is a toy robot that has suddenly woken up after thousands of failed attempts. As he looks around he notices the many scattered toys and an old man snoring at his desk. Xarl unplugs the wires attached to his body and descends down the table, gripping onto the table’s leg with his tiny mechanical fingers. On the ground he notices a postcard with an image of Rio, Brazil: a birds-eye photograph of sugar hill mountains and vibrant tropical colors popping out of the picture. On the other side of t...

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“A Jade Colored Dream” by Jeremiah Benson

Submitted to Contest #103

They say the things we search for are rarely out of sight. -I left it all behind. Not that there was much remaining. Ava, the woman of my dreams, broke everything off and started a new life, with a new man, in a new place far away. With nothing left, I moved too, into a building directly across from hers. The building was unfinished, half of the structure exposed a concrete skeleton underneath. Inside the apartment was completely bare too, no appliances, no windows, no bed, but those things could wait. The apartment was perfectly placed on t...

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“Possible Minds In An Impossible World” by Jeremiah Benson

Submitted to Contest #102

“Man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is.”-Albert CamusOn a lovely spring morning, Beth and her family went out to have a picnic. It was a beautiful arrangement. As her children tussled over the plush green grass and her husband gently played along, as Beth bit into a ripened strawberry plucked from the garden, it dawned on her, this was as good as it would ever get. Eventually her faithful husband would grow bored of her body, her children would abandon their naive affection and begin to interact with their mother as a transac...

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“Remnants of a Simple Life” by Jeremiah Benson

Submitted to Contest #102

John is currently reclining on a stiff modern couch. The apartment walls are bare and there's a sterile scentless scent. He recalls the home he grew up in, the distinct smell of life, and the wooden walls covered with memorabilia, amateur drawings, pictures of cats and dogs. Against the unpainted concrete wall there's a Rothko, depicting the essence of a sunset- stripped of its unnecessary details.John was only 16 years old when he decided to move into the city. He saw the life of his father, his grandfather and great grandfather. Generation...

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“Suburbia ” by Jeremiah Benson

Submitted to Contest #102

Commuting to work takes roughly three hours, although it feels like the time passes in seconds. The repeating yellow-dashes and silver-sedans as they interweave between lanes, as well as the perpetual highway hum, all layer over each other, creating a trance-like experience, subduing me into a deep unconscious state.This morning there was a crash that halted the unconscious trance. Two vehicles collided, melding their metallic bodies into a single entity. A man and woman, bleeding down their necks, crawled out from the wreckage. Still i...

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