About I'm passionate about exploring new storytelling techniques and mediums, pushing beyond traditional boundaries. I invite you to join me on this journey, where every story offers a fresh experience—whether through fiction, interactive video games, or emerging media. Together, we'll discover new ways to engage with the worlds we create.

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SANS ORBIT HOME ABOUT WE DON'T TOUCH THE SKY HIGHER ORDER THEORIES HOME ABOUT WE DON'T TOUCH THE SKY SANS ORBIT HIGHER ORDER THEORIES

bio

Benjamin Thomas Horak is an author, graphic designer, world builder, toastmaster, who enjoys experimentation in other creative fields. His published short stories, Departing and Somersault are in the Rough Riders Short Story Anthologies. His science fiction themes surround the edges of science, spirituality, consciousness, and the deeper meanings of life. While self-taught, he has attended writing courses at South Coast Repertory’s Conservatory.

His visual arts work includes a decade producing poster artwork for today’s prize-winning American playwrights, such as Adam Rapp, Sandra Tsing Loh, and Noah Haidle.

Benjamin writes in the cozy California vintage neighborhood of Long Beach. He enjoys a hot cup of jasmine green tea and he might show off his fountain pens if you let him.

Published stories

Departing

Dean Pratt never wanted to travel across galaxies, let alone to Zeilinger Station—a towering teleportation hub above the red deserts of Okamboo. But as whispers of “green poofs” and ghostly consciousness haunt his mind, Dean’s anxiety spikes. He only hopes to survive the journey without facing something spectral on the other side. In a flash of blinding light, Dean will find out if we can ever truly escape the ghosts we carry.

Somersault

Excerpt:
“But I love you!”
Agra William’s head was pinned against the cutting board by the mammoth left hand of her boyfriend, Cory Mason. He rested a cleaver on her neck, the heatless edge of steel pricked her skin. Joy, joy, joy, she focused. Believing her oldest memories would return. Bracing the countertop with her fingernails, she winced, her eyes shut. Joy, joy, joy. Cory raised his weapon high above his shoulder. Air whistled through his nostrils like a boiling kettle and when his inhale ceased, he swung.