Benedetto Varotta
Bio
MFA in Creative Writing. Professor. Novelist and poet. I love anime and video games. I love and hate the New York Mets.
Stories (3)
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Prologue - Birth and Death
There weren't always dragons in the Valley. That was my fault. Unearthing them from their slumber. We stood at the peak of the Valley, the tower standing tall behind us, missing a piece of itself, snug in my pocket. I could feel its charge burning a thin hole in my pants. My right hand was singed and bloodied but there would be no pain soon because something worse was incoming. In the distance, deep inside Drachtal Valley, we could see home, our small village tucked away in peace. They were lucky to have those brief moments of silence—of ignorance. How I envied them.
By Benedetto Varotta4 years ago in Fiction
The Cleaner
They had promised each other that if anything were to go wrong they would kill each other. A pact they made some while back. They would load the two revolvers with one bullet each, their names inscribed in the shells, scratched in the copper with the tip of a blade. Linden and LJ. They would place the barrels in each other's mouths and close their eyes, count to three like a child swallowing medicine. That would be it, their troubles vanishing in a clouded trail of lead.
By Benedetto Varotta4 years ago in Fiction
Dust and Ash
The Peddler told her to bring him more Valuables. A child not yet ten, Hanna was born into this broken world with one purpose: to dig—dig through the tons of trash scattered throughout the deserted land. The children were small. They had small everything: hands to dig through the waste, bodies to burrow deeper into the heaps, bellies to fill with less food. This is what they were relegated to, and Hanna was the best at it.
By Benedetto Varotta5 years ago in Fiction
