Michael is a former Soldier turned UN Military observer, called from an operation in South America and reassigned to assist in monitoring the ceasefire in post Gaza War Israel.
It's a job no one wants. Suffering from fatigue, he works as an intermediary sifting through every kind of Intel available; around terrorist organizations, political, religious and economic powers, joint agency operations as well as personal constraints. An explosion in Jerusalem leads to reports of the latest suspected suicide attack. But no one claims responsibility.
The already fragile US led peace talks are under threat of total collapse. Compounding the matter is the discovery of a multifaceted trafficking ring targeting Israel with roots stretching all across Europe that could subsequently throw the entire Middle East into chaos. Fighting blind while straddling the dividing line in a conflict not his own; Michael is only just beginning to learn his place in the world. Although for some, that place is six feet under.
With incidents linked in Eastern Europe and London, the explosion in Jerusalem and an alleged contracted Mossad hit team scouring the city tracking a suspected freelancer; peace seemingly only exists in the prayers of good citizens. This is not war; these are the quiet days...
------>> He glanced at the only available solace: the pretty sparkling lights below, of a warm Jerusalem night. Michael felt at peace, but for the pain. “What you waiting for?” he mumbled to the woman sitting, staring at him in the dark, “… finish it…” <<----
"The Green Corridor" - A Novel by Steven Benjamin - Genre: Psychological Thriller
*** Short Synopsis: A psychiatrist suspects one of her patients is a criminal. He’s an ex-soldier suffering from PTSD and is stalking the woman who holds the key to his own troubles. But the woman he’s stalking has deeper secrets of her own. But the crime that’s about to unfurl has a witness, a witness that has seen it all before, many times... he’s the one who invented the Green Corridor.
****
“He usually walks along a narrow gravel path, but now he’s crawling on all fours; his eyes are closed, no wait, he’s crawling on all three’s…” “What do you mean three’s?” “Two knees and an elbow…” “What happened to his other arm?” “He’s using it to hold his head. His head’s the reason why he’s crawling – he can’t take it anymore. He can’t take the pain.” “Where’s he crawling to?” “He doesn’t really know; he was sent... It ‘s more important that he goes on this journey because the destination is insignificant without the journey – one, cannot exist without the other – and this is the only way to get there.” “What does he see when he opens his eyes?” “The gravel road is lined with wet trees, bush, and shrubbery beneath which is green moss encroaching on the damp gravel. The further the road continues, the greener the ground becomes, the bush is beginning to reclaim the path.” “It hasn’t been traversed in a while.” “No, not by him or anyone else. There was a time when he went there often, but if anyone else found it or was traveling along that path – it would mean… he’d either be dead or genuinely and completely lost with probably no chance of being brought back.” “Why’s that?” “Because the mind is a place no one should wish to get lost in, and who’d want to imagine the ramifications of someone else roaming, unwelcome in the tunnels of the foundations of your own psyche. It’d be like an insect in your veins.” “What’s on the other side of the path? You said he’d traveled it before; what did he see?” “He can’t recall it exactly, but he knows it’s nothing he wants to see again.
***
"Shadows of the Sun" A novel by Steven Benjamin Genre: Sci-fi
Extract: "I buried a book some weeks back. It was a short one. It had many pictures in it. There was a picture of a little girl wearing a short pink and white dress, walking on a dirt pathway through some grass. There was a swing hanging from a tree to her right, and to her left a stretch of grass led to a small body of blue water, sparkling in the midday sunlight. I remember that image the most, because I like it, and it makes me sad. There weren’t many words with the pictures in the book. I remember the first time I read it, I felt happy. I felt like I was in a dream. The second time was much the same. After I read it for a third time… I wept. At first I didn’t know why, but the next time I picked up the book, I knew it was because it ignited within me a deep and all consuming despair. It showed me a place and time with colour and light I could never have or experience. It was a sadness I could not understand nor contain. I never knew my soul could express such a strong yearning for something so simple as light, but not just light… natural, pure, clean light. I buried that storybook because I came to terms with the fact that the dream of that kind of light would never be… the sun is a dim shadow of what it once was, just hanging in the sky, an orange orb, a shadow of its former glory. It’s like how the old generations illustrated the setting sun, only now it always looks like that, as it moves across the sky. The ever long sunset… the most glaring reminder of our times. For are these not the end of times, or at least just the end of our time? A child’s story book… ... what I actually want is to return home, to return to Earth, no matter how, even if it was just so I could have a final resting place, somewhere I knew I belonged. ... At the very least, back on Earth – even for those of us who were not born there – our demise would restore some form of dignity back to this, this fallen face of humanity, a face few of the first generations would recognize. A pale artificial face, on this red dusty planet, in the growing darkness.