The website of writer and poet Daniel Bennett
Billy watched Manny hurry across the road with a jerking, awkward movement of his cane, finally slowing down and stalking his way back to the barber shop on Coldharbour Lane. Manny turned and he waved again, a strong, sprawling gesture of benevolence and warmth. Billy huddled in his coat as he walked back to Stockwell … Continue reading Who Wants Sweetness?
'He passed a few yards to one side of them, and stumbled over a heap of something which he did not observe, as it was black like the level ground. It emitted a metallic sound, and looking he saw that he had kicked his foot against a great heap of money. The coins were black … Continue reading Utterly Extinct
I liked to ride the Docklands railway in those days, sitting at the very front of the electric trains, when they were being driven by an operator at the back. As we zipped around the waterfront of the Thames, following rails set on an overpass of raised concrete, I thought of myself as living in … Continue reading I Liked To Take The Trains
The black car squatted on Stockwell Road. Billy Vehement clocked it on his way back from Brixton tube station. The regular gang stood outside the Portuguese delicatessen across the road from his flat, swapping jokes over bottles of Super Bock. Traffic tore up the tarmac; a rogue gull dawdled over the skating park. Billy could only … Continue reading Cappuccino Leather
https://youtu.be/7DpQHs8G1K8 My crime novel, My First London Dream, is now available on Kindle. Hack actor, ex-convict and ex-agent provocateur, Billy is hired by his mentor Peter Priest, a retired director of schlock, who had been advising Felix on the film industry in the weeks before his disappearance. Set in 2007, months before the financial crash, … Continue reading My First London Dream
'The main thing now for success was to get away from the coast and gain the middle of the gulf before day broke. The Isabels were somewhere at hand. “On your left as you look forward, senor,” said Nostromo, suddenly. When his voice ceased, the enormous stillness, without light or sound, seemed to affect Decoud’s … Continue reading Circumambient Darkness
Later that evening, Mitchell returned to his apartment. He'd brought a bag of tools from the cabin, to drill a fitting on the wall for the painting he'd found in the Old Room. He stood by the window, examining it carefully in the final light of the sunset. He imagined that the artist had based … Continue reading Incomplete
'Here's what I dream most about now. The dogs. Trying to get my numb fingers around the tricky latches of their chains. Cracking open the ice in their bowls so they can have a drink. In my dreams, I do it with a stick, or the business end of an ax, or the heel of … Continue reading The Last Bend Of The Lake
In the old days, I'd have found better ways of using the time. I longed to take myself off to a remote place-- an Artic radio station, a mountain lookout, or -- in grander dreams-- the epic loneliness of a spacecraft. The gentle persistent of daily routines. The making of coffee, the delicacy of chocolate. … Continue reading The Great Release
'A storm was moving into the valley now and the rain had begun to fall and the wind sang down through the vines and he listened for what the house could say to him. So many had claimed that this valley spoke to them and maybe it has spoken to me too but I don't … Continue reading The Valley
