The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button Novels & Stories

We made way for her, saying a 'hello' as she walked by. We all surely assumed that this man was Doctor Ben, though I imagined an elderly man living in squalor. But Doctor Ben was the opposite; embarassingly, we were all speechless at this man once he turned to face us. He was gorgeous - tall, lean and well kempt, wearing black slacks and an untucked white button down shirt, the top buttons unfastened, the sleeves rolled up his fore arms. He was older, his graying hair indication of that, but it didn't take away from how handsome he was; light, almost fair skinned, with a sharp jaw and even sharper eyes, dark in color but genuine in gaze. His facial hair was shaved down to a faint goatee, whe

I think someone has called death upon himself. One of Alantino's men, moved toward the car. The headlights turned off and the car was a very expensive and luxurious one. Rolls Royce. The guy knocked at the window, harshly and after a moment it slid down, revealing a man in fifties...Benjamin. But he was ought to come on Saturday. It was Friday, today. What was he doing in Italy, now? Why didn't he inform me about his early arrival? Before I could say something, the guy started misbehaving with him, obviously unaware of the position of the man, whose collar he held.

“I’ll need some help with the buttons.” Ben huffed through his nose then stepped closer to her and started undoing the long row of buttons that ran down her back. It was slow torture as his hands fumbled with the tiny tabs, he just wanted to get to the good stuff already. After 5 or 6, he growled to himself then put his hands on either side and pulled forcefully sending buttons across the room. Imara gasped and asked, “Was that really necessary?” Ben brushed her cheek with his lips as he leaned over her and asked, “You weren’t planning on wearing this again were you?”

Then, turning to the man, he smiled and added, "Uncle Ben, this is Dean." Hearing the name "Uncle Ben," Dean’s heart skipped a beat, his expression betraying a flicker of unease and alertness that he couldn't hide. The mention of the man's name hit him like a bolt of lightning, slicing through his thoughts and piercing the deepest corners of Dean Harrison’s memory. Benjamin Winston. The name echoed in his mind, instantly triggering a discomfort that made him feel like he was drowning in an unfamiliar yet deeply unsettling past.

she said as she made her way back to the house. ***** Benjamin watched the scene unfolding before him. He had initially wanted to help the chubby lady, but was surprised at her battle ability. She had actually taken five hefty men down single-handedly and was impressed by her ability. He found her moves oddly familiar before he discarded the thought. “I want all the information about her.” he said as he winded up the vehicle window and the driver started the engine. Benjamin arrived home as he headed straight to his room. He had just arrived in America after the unfortunate death of his fiancée. He moved to the dressing table as he placed his wristwatch there before his eyes darted to his fi

"It's been so long. Yet, Cherilyn won't let me touch her. "She must still be hung up on that dead guy. Say, do you think she's staying chaste for him, or is she just that innocent? "My initial plan was just to have some fun. But I never thought it would drag on for so long. I'm not willing to let it end like this." My heart sank. Instead of barging in, I peeked through the gap. Benjamin was seated on the sofa with his legs crossed. He held a glass of wine in one hand, which he downed in one gulp. He looked nothing like someone suffering from stomach cancer.

Before I have time to even think of turning around, the oak door is abruptly torn open. My bare-feet curl into the carpet in hopes of keeping me grounded. I stare at the familiar man in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights. Benji's dressed in weathered business clothes that look like he's had them on all day. His dress shirt is wrinkled and the top three buttons are deliciously unbuttoned. He stares back at me with bloodshot eyes, trapping me in his gaze. "Can you not sleep?" His voice is hoarse as he questions me.

The woman was seen holding an amulet of faith in Amethyst. Benjamin smiled faintly—turning his body into black smoke, wasting no time. He immediately darted into Max's mansion. Benjamin knew this was a crazy act, but there was no option to retreat anymore. As long as he moved carefully, vigilantly, and blended into the darkness while Max was not present, his intrusion would be safe.

She ran down the winding mountain path, her heels catching on the gravel until she ripped them off, running barefoot in the dark. The car was there—a nondescript black sedan. "The hospital," she gasped as she dived into the backseat. "Please, hurry." Back in the mansion, Benjamin stood in the study, staring at a portrait of his father. The rage was still there, but beneath it was a gnawing, uncomfortable feeling he couldn't name. He looked at his hands—the hands that had almost crushed the life out of the woman carrying his child. Reflexive movements. He remembered the night of the wedding. A feverish dream. A soft touch. A scent of lavender. He had thought it was a hallucination of a dying

It was a photograph, glossy, a little curled at the edges. I looked at it. It was Benjamin. He stood on the pavement outside the nursery in his blue coat, with one button done up wrong. Something was clutched in each of his small hands. Behind him the plane trees stood in their peeling bark, and the light was the low gold light of October. My stomach dropped. "That's Thursday," I said. "That's this Thursday. That's the button he—" I stopped. "Alex, we were there. We were right there. I didn't see anyone."