The website of writer and poet Daniel Bennett
'From inside all you can hear is the wind outside as it buffets the wire fences. The books line the shelves, programmes are loaded on the computers, the plates in the kitchen are clean and neatly stacked, the meat in the walk-in refrigerators remains intact, the boards games are in the display cabinets, the counters … Continue reading Hypothetical Games
I'm very pleased that my first science fiction novella, Requiem For An Astronaut, has been published by New Con Press. Requiem is set in the environs of East City, the location for my recent SF stories, and features a scientist, Bart, and his search for the lost astronaut Joan Kaminsky. An excerpt follows below. 'I … Continue reading Requiem For An Astronaut
2021 has been a busy year for me, even if it feels I've never really left the same square mile in East London. For one thing, I took on some more work towards the end of last year, which has taken up more time than I anticipated. Another, and far happier reason, is that my … Continue reading 2021
My short story 'An Island For Lost Astronauts' features in the current double issue of Interzone. I'm particularly proud of this one. The story takes place in Rivertown, one of the weird locales of East City, the megalopolis at the centre of some of my recent stories. The astronauts moved amongst us like captive angels. … Continue reading Interzone 290-291
'I dream that I'm back on Earth. It's the last day before going away on the Six Thousand Ship. Everything stands out so clearly, the way it does in grief, when all senses are awakened. There's the sky, pouring out its light, its blue water over the woods I walk through on my way to … Continue reading The Great Star
'"Really, Tichy. Don't be so demonic. Ours is simply a world in which more than twenty billion people live. Did you read today's Herald? The government of Pakistan claims that in this year's famine only 970,000 perished, while the opposition gives a figure of six million. In such a world where are you going to … Continue reading The Last Pheasant
'17, Hill Park lay on the left of the Rye as you looked south, caught between sine bleak low-rise flats and two or three point-blocks built on a hill. A burned out Vauxhall had sagged on to its brake drum in the street outside; the basement area was full of broken furniture - chipboard, Formica, … Continue reading Hill Park
'Again the fog was bedding down over San Gabriel. On the blue mountains the sun was still shining. An earthen smut covered the town. Darkness came after. The lights were not switched on that night as a mark of mourning because Don Justo owned the electricity. The dogs kept howling till dawn. Candles brightened the … Continue reading Drowsy Night
'For a few minutes more, he looked to catch a last glimpse of the animal, but it had become one of the itinerant shadows that moved as the wind caught the trees. It had returned to patterns of living that were impossible to understand: where every movement and every sound meant something and nothing could … Continue reading Itinerant Shadows
'A man's features, the bone structure and the tissue which covers it, are the product of a biological process; but his face he creates for himself. It is a statement of his habitual emotional attitude; the attitude which his desires need for his fulfilment and which his fears demand for their protection from prying eyes. … Continue reading A Devil Mask
