Lost from sight where planting and cleared scrubGive on the ride, a plantation to the rightOpposite, unmanaged coppice bolting skywardsBut her bell heard, its tinkling travelled ahead' Free Running Bitch, Andrew Crozier
Author: Daniel Bennett
I'm a writer and poet. My first novel, All the Dogs, appeared in 2008, and was described by Niall Griffiths as 'a stirring debut, a compellingly written tract on the importance of finding a place on the earth.' My fiction has appeared in London Noir, Crimewave, Black Static and 3AM. I live in London, where, amongst other things, I teach Creative Writing for the Open University. https://absenceclub.com
Gullies
'Do you ever examine the gullies of the English countryside? Under the twigs, under the dead leaves, you'll find tennis balls, blackened. Girls threw them for their dogs, or children, for each other, they rolled into the gully. They are lost there, given up for dead, centuries old.' Harold Pinter, No Man's Land.
Camden Dream
I tried to lose The Monk out past the lock, through the corridors of the market and the old horse hospital, where the smells of rising damp mixed with sandalwood incense and sausage fat. We headed out across the backstreets. The Monk liked to trump me with his experiences of Camden: pointing out a squat … Continue reading Camden Dream
Nimrod
'His usual mood was one of indefinite basic sadness. He had the dejected helplessness of an orphan -- an inability to fill the emptiness of life between the sensational events of meals. This was reflected in the aimlessness of his movements, in his irrational fits of melancholia, his sad whimpering and his inability to settle … Continue reading Nimrod
Perfect Space
A wide bench, holding a laptop and an anglepoise lamp. A concrete floor decorated, perhaps, with a hard-wearing woollen rug. Pot plants to provide oxygen and a heater to see you through the winter months. Music, of course, coming from an old record player, with vinyl housed on metal shelves. Corrugated roof tiles, some of … Continue reading Perfect Space
Long-Dead Friend
I saw the sister of a long-dead friend in the alleyways behind the market. She stood underneath the awning of a fish-stall, ice melting around her feet, her reflection beaded on the bland eyes of red mullet, tilapia and grouper. We had known each other when very young, and I still remembered her as a … Continue reading Long-Dead Friend
Midnight Movies
They come in off the streetwith the clammy heat of city storms.Nearly men, chancers, clones,mostly vile. Clothes smeared with cocktail cherries, a smellof pickle brine and cordite.One thumbnail painted blue,ponytails, though they’re mostly bald. The glimmer of a fake horizonworks at their back, day for night,hotdog flesh, a painted skybut the stars are only pricks … Continue reading Midnight Movies
The Unit of Disaster Management
The unit occupies an annex towards the back of a Victorian building, around the backstreets of Waterloo. The floor exists in a state of perpetual disrepair, with lino torn up on the steps and corridors, faded public notices peeling on the walls; an air of an abandoned school in a nuclear zone. Desks are arranged … Continue reading The Unit of Disaster Management
Lunatic Hopes
‘They have the most lunatic hopes, these beasts; they’re just fools, utter fools. That’s why we like them; they are our dogs; finer dogs than any of yours . Watch this now, a camel died last night and I have had it brought here.’ Jackals and Arabs, Franz Kafka
What The World Wants To Tell You
'You are weaving through your life when a plane falls from the sky. You could not have prepared for this moment, but you approach it as you would any other: you walk slowly through it, trying hard to listen to what the world wants to tell you.' 'Crash', Amanda Davis Of course, Amanda Davis wrote … Continue reading What The World Wants To Tell You
Absence Club 