Benjamin Evans - Author

I wake up. Today I can do anything. What do I want to do? I run. It makes me happy. Nothing else matters. I eat. It gives me energy. I can do anything. I drink coffee. It makes me high. Ideas flood my mind. I think about the one that I love I come down. I am hopeless. I don’t want to do anything. I work. It is boring. My mind drifts. I am someone else. I see a pretty girl. She is my type. I think about her beauty. I think about something else. I write. I go to a different world. I am clever, important. I think about the one that I love I talk. It is a boring. I cannot think of anything to say. I run again. It makes me feel good. I am a runner. It is what I do. I watch TV. It is the news. I am serious. I drink. It makes me relax. I want to talk and laugh. I think about the one that I love. I am her. She never changes. Feelings come and go. She stays the same. I am the one that I love.

Very much an experiment in metaphor this one. See what you think. The Spider She lived in the back room of the stables, alone, with just the picture for company. It hung on the wood, lopsided, ugly as one can imagine, colours bulging out, red, yellow and blue, exploding onto the canvas like a geyser filled with blood. Yet she would stare at it for hours, salivating over the world it represented - dangerous and ugly, explicit and insatiable - a naked man standing erect. 'Come to me. Come and find me.' The girl didn’t know anything about art. She’d never visited a galley or attended a school. She’d never been to a city - she’d never even left the farm. All she knew about the world was what she could see from the top of the hill, glittering trees and gleaming paths, lights spinning like Catherine Wheels, sparks over dark glass towers. But she knew that something was happening, something with people shouting and running and touching one another. 'Touch. Touch. Touch me.' Vo...

Happy New Year all Yep, I've made the resolution you've all been dreading - WRITE MORE. So with this in mind here is my sell-out to Hollywood, the movie adaptation of Liquid Girl of Berlin. Have a look. Its something of a homage to this dynamic and exciting city which I think anyone alive in the 20th Century needs to go to at some point. Viel Spaß beim Lesen!

THE LIQUID GIRL OF BERLIN Cast: Raymond Phelps – A famous American model Liquid Girl – A Berlin research doctor Sophia Monfis – A beautiful news presenter Old Man working on a barge Woman in TV Tower Crowd outside awards ceremony Paparazzi INT. TOP OF BERLIN TV TOWER. We look at the city through the lens of a tourist telescope. It is early evening and it is getting dark. The sight focuses on the old East - apartment blocks, factories - then looks around and zooms back on the modernised West - the Potsdamer Platz, the Hauptbahnhof, the Reichstag. It continues to move slowly around and then focuses in again, this time on the old scar of the wall, working its way along until it reaches the River Spree where it flows through the divide. There is tiny dot moving down the side of the river. The telescope goes black. EXT. BANK OF THE SPREE. TWILIGHT. An OLD MAN is untying the rope of his rusted barge. He is a traditional, unfashionable,...

Hi all. Sorry about the brief interlude. Have been engaged in the all the non-writing business of writing - bothering agents, not winnning competition, sending pieces to magazines that no-one reads - but back now, and hopefully with some new-exciting site additons. However, until then here's another little piece. The Reunion Many people have told me that running focuses the mind. It has something to do with the balancing of the brain, where fatigue and effort are countered by a rush of endorphins, and it gives everything a bright, newly painted clarity. You wake in the morning a shivering mess of neurosis and stride-stride-stride your way into a pre-breakfast enlightenment, whole, happy and rounded with the brush of Raphael. I wonder then, what to make of the events of last Wednesday morning when I went my first run since my girlfriend had died a year before. It all started in the normal way. I woke up, cleaned my teeth, drank a cup of strong coffee, looked in the mirror, ignored t...

Okay, so here is the final piece after a few weeks of creative writing tutoring. Please see included added 'dramatic tension' and 'contrast.' I ahve also included my commentary on the piece due to popular demand. I'll let you know how it goes. The Liquid Girl of Berlin Raymond Phelps could have been God as far as the world was concerned. He was the highest paid model in Hollywood, regularly feted as the world’s most eligible bachelor, and at a ceremony that evening in Berlin had been crowned ‘Man of the 21st Century.’ On the wall of Sonya Monfis, the French actress, there was even an enlarged print of his face. ‘It’s your eyes,’ she said, stroking the paper with her fingernails. ‘With eyes like that you can have anything.’ But Raymond Phelps didn’t want to look at another picture. He didn’t want to look at anything at all. As the beautiful French actress tore off his clothes he felt his limbs start to grow cold, and as her body curved and squeezed around him his bre...

Solid and Liquid Raymond Phelps could have been God as far as the world was concerned. He was the highest paid model in Hollywood, regularly voted as the best looking person on the planet and this evening he had been to a ceremony in Berlin crowning him ‘Man of the 21 st Century.’ His advert for Calvin Klein was even on the wall of Sonya Monfis, the French actress, who had seduced him that evening. ‘It’s your eyes,’ she said, stroking the paper with her fingernails. ‘With eyes like that you can have anything you want.’ But Raymond Phelps didn’t feel like being seduced. Ever since he had been in Berlin he’d had something on his mind. ‘Don’t you want me?’ she’d said, leaning over him and letting her breasts rub slowly over his chest. ‘Don’t you want me to make you happy?’ Raymond traced his eyes over her, the perfect undulations of her back and legs, the measured tip of her nipples as they rubbed gently towards his groin. ‘Come on Raymond. Let us be happy tog...