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Novel Brainstorm

“A Night in Paris”

The darkest shadows of night are the havens of the darkest creatures. Thieves, thugs, vandals, dealers, and others that people consider trash roam the streets each night. Paris was no exception to this. Lieutenant Commander Jordan Henessy was keen to the dangers of the night. His work in intelligence was often held on the dark streets where nobody wanted to be. The short cropped hair of a retired military officer turned CIA agent was dignified under his black fedora. His three piece suit was solid black against his white dress shirt and smooth black tie, covered by a black leather trench-coat to avoid the heavy downpour of the rain that night. He had his wallet, with nothing but five hundred euros, his passport, a standard identification from his home town of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and a shoulder-holstered model nineteen-eleven Colt forty-five. His gloved hand slid to the envelope beside him in the seat of a rented town car, driven by a uniformed driver. The car was standard for the business he was in. Plain, simple, unrecognizable to most people, and a darkened divider to give the passenger privacy. Henessy opened the envelope to look over the information again. He was to meet a contact in the Latin Quarter of the city. He reviewed the highly classified file, skimming over the information, absorbing the details. There were photos of a laboratory, of subjects, and even of the doctors. The analysts back at his office had tried to run the data through the system two weeks before the meeting, but none of the faces registered on the recognition software. They were brand new photographs, not dated before 2010. There were hand-written notes, advising that the laboratories were military run, which coincided with a man in uniform in a photo, observing the lab in what appeared to be an experiment. Either way, the man in the uniform was not the concern, but instead a man with a suit and fedora. In all the photos, the face was hidden, angled and covered by a fedora and sunglasses. The photos, unfortunately, were in black and white, unable to distinguish very much, and the clarity was very poor. The intercom of the vehicle buzzed and Henessy answered, the sound of rain obvious in the background from the exterior, “Go ahead, Jean-Luc.”

“Pardon if I’m interrupting Monsieur, but we’re approaching the restaurant now. Would you like me to drop you off at the front door?” The driver asked in his heavy accent, unaware of the nature of the exact reason for going out that night.

“If it’s all right with you Luke, could you take me three blocks down the street and left two blocks past the restaurant? If you do, there’s an extra hundred euro tip for you.” Henessy requested, politely but gruff in a manner that the driver had known all too well.

“Are you sure in this weather, Monsieur? It’s a pretty nasty storm out tonight.” The driver responded. He had been driving his occupant to the strangest places around the city all for the past two months. He thought about confronting his passenger, but he just shrugged it off each time. He was a driver, a professional, and he had a job to do.

“Thank you for the concern, but I’m certain. After I’m dropped off, I’ll call if I need to be picked up.” Henessy replied, as he slipped on black leather gloves, then disengaging the intercom.

“Oui Monsieur,” The driver replied. The driver looked at his watch. Seven Twenty-five at night local time. It sounded right for a dinner meeting. The driver took the town car as instructed, past the restaurant. Henessy scoped the building and the alley beside it. He looked as quickly as possible as the vehicle drove past, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He didn’t notice anything in either location. The streets were lined with tall homes that had been converted to apartments for college students. Many of the windows were dark with vacant apartments or students who were asleep amid the fear of early morning classes. Any lights that were on were draped over, covering the street from peering in at their busy work and keeping the students from being distracted. Henessy thought back to how when he was in college of the couples who would be enjoying a late night together and how he was unfortunately not one of them. He shrugged it off, but kept the boyish grin on his face. When the car had stopped, the driver exited and opened the door for Henessy with an umbrella with dual layer coverage to allow air to blow through the umbrella instead of ruining or damaging it. Henessy exited and thanked the driver with two hundred euros, a hundred more than usual as promised. The driver thanked Henessy for his generosity and sealed the vehicle shut and drove off down the street. It was dark with no sign of life on the streets except for strays running in search of a dry place to sleep. The walk only took a few minutes, and the restaurant was bustling. The clanking of dishes could be heard easily as Henessy walked into the alley, the location to meet the contact. He observed the side-partition behind the restaurant and took a steady stride. The pouring rain pounded on his trench-coat and fedora, but he remained dry mostly as his feet stepped through puddles and clacked on the brick street of the alley. Alone, behind the restaurant was a man dressed in equally professional attire, down to the suit and tie, but with a brown trench-coat and fedora instead of black and a folded newspaper in one hand.

“I’m glad you came. I have information for you…” The man said, reluctance in his voice. Henessy and the man talked for a few minutes before agreeing to another meeting at the Louvre to share files. Henessy gave a nod and a handshake against the leather glove of his informant as a flash of lightning lit the night, both of their faces shadowed by their attire. Turning to head down the alleyway, he took a few steps before his informant interrupted him, “I beg your pardon but I forgot to tell you something…” As Henessy turned, there was a sizzling sound in the air that sounded like nothing but compressed air as thunder shook Paris. Henessy stopped short, and felt a wet pool run down his dry shirt and a searing pain in his chest. As Henessy looked down, he could see the stain of red growing. As he looked back at his informant, the suppressor and body of a Glock 9mm barely showed from under the folded newspaper, kept dry and well hidden. Henessy couldn’t help but think of his wife and daughter back home in the states as the last image before he fell into the night of Paris, was the lone informant standing over him, taking the dossier given to him from his aides at the office, and the sound of footsteps echoing away, barely heard under the pouring rain.

Site Information Update

Greetings everyone.

It has come to my attention that my staff does not like the layout of WordPress as a website and find it very cumbersome to work with. To compensate and fit the needs of those who work with me and my readers, I do have an important update to announce. Effective immediately, Benoit Publishings will be moving over to Weebly. However, I do have one site member that is still willing to update the wordpress page and keep you all in touch with all the current information in a timely manner. Thus so, I have decided to run both sites. We apologize for any inconvenience. We have made this move to reach a broader spectrum of readers and keep the current readers, as well as keep the web team satisfied. I can still be reached on Twitter or Facebook if there are any questions. We do appreciate our followers and readers and will continue to strive with them.

 

Many blessings upon you all,

Nikolai Benoit

Author & Owner

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Dawn

I sat upon the golden shore

Staring at the firey sun

Setting fire to the western sky

With blazes of orange, and red.

I crept upon my blighted road,

Trying to set my mind a path,

To push on through internal strife

Which alights the soul with flame.

I looked into the mirrored water,

to inflect upon the soul,

But when I looked, all I saw

Were the demons I resent.

One stood alight as my thougts swirled,

A woman no older than I.

A friend of ages, but felt for more

By the heart of the mindless thinker.

I looked upon the letters old,

And read each word as gospel.

The words– knives upon the soul–

Guided my mind to endless shadows.

I recalled her voice, so sweet and tender,

Telling how she ‘loves’ me so.

But as tears rain, the image disturbed

Fading as the feelings burned.

“I wish she’d see my pain”, I thought

The tattered thoughts assunder,

As more I wished for her to see

My soul unbroken, clean.

A longing tanged upon the soul

As I slapped the water away,

Trying to scatter the firey mirror,

To end the searing pain.

The sun had set, night had fell,

The people off to sleep.

To this day, I watch the sky

Hoping for a new dawn.

Wisdom

Wisdom

I lay there dreaming in the autumn sun

My head upon my satchel.

Birds were chirping in blessed chorus

As the smiles all grew in joyful fun.

Seven there were, as I remember,

Enjoying the realms before the shivering cold.

Each as full of life as the great Elder,

Under which I lay pondering my thoughts,

Before the coming of darkness.

I knew not what to believe, or whom to see,

As each person bore a facade of their own.

I trusted them with my soul adorn with unwaivering eyes,

Young and fruitful, that had aged with troubles past.

The hazel mixture resulting of a simple concoction

A changing pasture of brown and green.

Alas, though together, I felt alone

under the Elder with which I sought wisdom.

An item of nature, unmoved in all its time, and connected

To natures bosom which caressed the joys of Life.

Still, I bore my question of the dear woman whom I adored.

A crush, an affection, or even just youth?

Was this real or fiction, devout or ignorant?

As I gazed, my eyes turned to the bluff.

The sea of warm red delivered my answer.

The Void

The Void

In darkness, there is but one truth.

Emptiness is a pain sharper than the sword.

Where can such a void exist,

But in the temperament of mind and soul.

The glance of a sparkling

Eye is distant, and guiding.

Guiding to an illusion

Of what one wants to believe.

Emptiness is dark and cold,

Tempered only by truth.

When one can’t feel true warmth

It is something they always crave.

It becomes purpose and addiction.

It hunts as a prowling beast.

It hungers for a cure

To end a leper’s disease.

The Cliff

The reddened skies of evening blaze,

Caressed by the harness of heaven’s deep light,

Caught a very weary gaze

As my heart sank with the coming of night.

The white-wash surf of crashing waves,

Stumbling on the jagged rocks,

So inviting, and peaceful did tempt my eyes

As I thought, then, of her silky locks.

I plucked but one lonely flower,

Of crimson silk for petals and thorns.

A billowed breeze of cold, did strike,

And shatter the flower to dust.

Alas, there is a time that all must see,

There are never real happy endings in the world.

And with that, I bid my dream farewell

As I plunged to the peace of the inviting sea.

Two

Two

Every path, a blinding road

Covered by the sweet warmth and tall tree,

Each leading to one of life’s humble abode,

Where dreams are no longer fantasy.

This boldly grown cherry blossom tree

grown beautifully tall and wise with age,

Did split the path before me twice at the knee,

and left life with another blank page.

To left or to right, which way do I go?

Both paths worn, but fresh in morning course with dew,

Each inviting this morning’s cock to crow,

And now I must choose, which one of two.

Sonnet I: Ode to an Angel

Sonnet I

Ode to an Angel

To what do I owe thy love’s sweet elegance and grace

Which blesses thy eye in warm rev’rence devout?

Thou art an Angel, and I a mere fool of a man.

Thou carries a torch of radi’nce and warm joy

Where thy bright flame warms my shiv’ring soul with life,

Setting light to my torch, thawing my froz’n heart.

Should I compare my love for thee with your

Fabled beauty divine and tender chorus of voice,

Wrapped in safety of thy wings and halo of gold,

I a mere peasant to the portrait of your Majesty.

Glistn’ing in strands of your silky hair, whispering in the night,

Your diamond eyes pools of gems in the flame’s blaze.

Oh how I dream to be thy prince, so that your beauty

May be shown to the blind world, so all may see as I see.