Harbor Benassa
Bio
I carry a piece of the things that I love wherever I go. I love short fiction, chocolate ganache, forensic science, and, aptly, the water.
Achievements (1)
Stories (26)
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PROMPT: Lost Notebook Playlist
Write the ending to your own adventure with this summer storytelling prompt! Each prompt listed below begins your story, in each of which you will find a list of songs in a forgotten journal. To answer the prompt, curate a playlist with a suggested length of ten songs inspired by the setting given. I can't wait to see what you all come up with!
By Harbor Benassa2 years ago in Fiction
Some Legends Get Left in the Valley
It started off that way, in the dark. The tranquil swirl of snow made barely a whisper at the bedroom window of Grandma's cabin in Canaan, and the eerie critter-less quiet was a welcome discomfort for to keep awake. I was no more than a ten-year-old sprout when I sat awake under that quilt, listening for the footsteps I was sure I'd hear crunching in the temperamental valley snowfall, searching for its hulking shadow overtaking the floodlight leaking onto the opposite wall. And I laid up watching, watching that surface, flat and far and blurring from focus, slow breaths pressing in my lungs, afeared to turn round and look out that window, if I'm to admit it rightly now. I strained with all my might in that black room, and there it was! Accomplishment thrilled within my chest. I had one chance to turn around and look out that window, into the floodlit snow, to catch that sasquatch once and for all. So I twisted my little body towards the light, hoisting up high to see overtop the headboard, and the first thing to catch me was a red ribbon dragging in the snow, long streaks of muck left by a sharp, gaunt thing dragging a prize behind in its bloodthick maw, backing through the snow hunched with the weight of its prey. And as I saw that bundle of bones with the deer's leg in its mouth, son, it also saw me. I ain't never spoke it till now.
By Harbor Benassa2 years ago in Fiction
Escape Royale
On October 31st, most Michiganders were donning costumes and preparing for trick-or-treaters. Sally Tello, however, was watching nature pitch a pre-blizzard fit at her post in boreal Isle Royale National Park. Flanked by walls and floors of warm-toned, rustic hardwood, Sally was preparing to close up shop at the Windigo Visitor Center for the extreme Michigan winter. She only had a little left to do before her seaplane was scheduled to arrive and return her to the mainland. While everyone else vacated the island much earlier, Sally volunteered to stay behind at one of the three visitor centers until the park officially closed, just to say goodbye to her first full season as a park ranger. Outside, gunmetal ripples rose and curled on the gunmetal surface of the surrounding Lake Superior.
By Harbor Benassa2 years ago in Horror
I Let My Cat Step on my Keyboard
Every time I open my computer, my cat, Computed Tomography (CT for short), never fails to step on the keyboard. This was especially helpful while I was finishing a challenging twenty page final paper for a master's level molecular biology course. This time around, I figured I'd let her step on my keyboard on purpose, just in case she had anything important to say.
By Harbor Benassa2 years ago in Poets
The Origin of Maple Syrup
In her drafty log cabin, Elanor set up all the ingredients she remembered her mother would need for her favorite treat- just butter, some sea salt, and a whole bucketful of maple syrup. On such a chilly evening, Elanor reminisced about how her mother loved to bake in snowy weather. She gently rested her thoughts in the back of her mind while she poured the sap from the metal container into a large stew pot lofted above the fire and watched as steam began to drift up from the surface. The familiar scent of maple wafted from its perch above the flame, and she knew she'd have about half an hour before the boiling candy was ready for stirring and cooling. Her younger sister Lacey was too little to help, and she was far too preoccupied playing with her doll on the floor, anyway.
By Harbor Benassa2 years ago in Fiction
