Tag: books

Victor Benavides and the Power of Words

Welcome back to our series of interviews with authors in the Story Sanctum family. As I said in the first installment—a conversation with Soter Lucio—it’s a privilege to connect with these writers and learn the backstories to their artistry. This is especially true since they come from vastly different countries and experiences.

This time, meet Victor Benavides, a Texas-based author whose debut short story Carrier the Fisherman appeared on our site on July 1, 2025. It’s a piece dedicated to his grandfather that evokes vivid scenes of war, a brawl in New Orleans, and life along the southern coast of Texas. At the center of it all is Carrier, a larger-than-life presence with an unexpected fate. Take a few moments to read it!

KVT: First, Victor, thank you for taking the time to share with us. I see that you grew up in the Lower Rio Grande Valley (RGV). As a fellow Texan, I’ve spent a lot of time on both sides of the American/Mexican border. Does your family have historic roots in that area?

VB: My father moved here in 1943 when he was fourteen years old. I remember him sharing a story about his first day here—how his brother gave him a pair of canvas shoes that he cherished. He began his career as a radio personality and DJ in the Valley, and later became a writer, producer, director, and actor in several hit films shot locally, such as Treinta Segundos Para Morir and La Banda del Carro Rojo. My mother was born at Mercy Hospital in Brownsville, Texas, and grew up in Port Isabel. She met my father in 1979.

KVT: Your father sounds like a creative character. Do you remember any specific advice he gave you?

VB (chuckling): My dad gave me advice about everything and anything. When it came to writing, he said to write about something that I find truly inspiring. If I get excited with my own words and feel a sense of wonderment and connection, then I have something worthwhile to share with the world. He also told me that whenever I write fiction, add a bit of truth because it will then become greater. Lastly, he told me to write while in the moment. If I feel inspired in the moment and write something down, even if it’s incomplete, I know that one day I will revisit that piece of writing and finish it when inspiration strikes again. 

KVT: Your bio also says that after earning a master’s degree in business administration from the University of Texas Rio Grande Valley, you are now working on a master’s in English. What prompted this shift?

VB: I’m an English teacher here in the RGV, and I decided to pursue a master’s in English Studies to strengthen my skills and broaden my knowledge of the field. I felt that deepening my understanding of rhetoric, literacy, and composition would make me a more effective and impactful teacher for my students.

KVT: I love this quote from you: “I have always been fascinated with the power of words and how they can stir emotions and help a reader transcend into different literary worlds.” Do you have some favorite authors who influenced you?

VB: Authors who have influenced me deeply include Américo Paredes, María Amparo Ruiz de Burton, John Berger, Rudolfo Anaya, Margarita Longoria, Sandra Cisneros, and many others. I’m also drawn to science fiction and admire writers like George Orwell, Ray Bradbury, and others for their ability to expand the imagination and reflect on society.

KVT: Can you share any anecdotes from your teaching when you saw students whose emotions were stirred by the power of words?

VB: There’s a famous story I read to my students called The Appointment in Samarra. It’s about a wealthy merchant who sends his servant to get provisions in the bustling marketplace of Baghdad. The servant returns full of fear. When the merchant asks him why, he says that he saw Death in the image of a cloaked woman and she seemed to make a threatening gesture. The servant asks to borrow the merchant’s horse, then gallops to the faraway city of Samarra to hide and escape from her. Later, the merchant goes down to the marketplace and sees the same cloaked figure “Why did you make a threatening gesture towards my servant?” he asks her. “That was not a threatening gesture,” she says. “I was simply startled to see him in Baghdad, because I have an appointment with him tonight in Samarra.” After reading this, I get a lot of wide-eyed epiphany-induced looks from my students. They realize that the story elicits an emotional response from them because they can identify with the servant’s feelings. No young student really takes into account their own mortality. At that age, they feel invincible. However, the story helps them realize that death is inevitable and that time is a precious resource. Although it’s a bleak story, it helps students appreciate the power of words.

KVT: What are some of your plans for using your writing and your new degree?

VB: I’ve always seen education as a lifelong journey; we’re constantly learning and growing. With my writing, I hope to create literary works that forge emotional connections with readers. I also want to offer more diverse “mirrors” in my work—stories and characters that allow readers from all backgrounds to see themselves reflected and to connect personally with what they read.

KVT: Well, I look forward to reading your work in the future, and I thank you for taking the time to speak with us.

VB: You’re very welcome!

You can find Victor Benavides on Facebook here.

by Tags: , , , , , , , 3 Comments

Meet Soter Lucio: Grandmother, Ironer, Horror Fiction Writer

Stories are a communal currency of humanity. – Tahir Shah

As Fiction Editor at Story Sanctum Publishing, I have the privilege of reading submissions from around the world. We have featured stories by writers from India, Indonesia, Scotland, Taiwan, and England among others. Through my email correspondence with them, as well as deep dives into their work online, I have broadened my appreciation for Story Sanctum’s diverse family of authors.

Recently, I interviewed Soter Lucio from the Island nation of Trinidad and Tobago. We published her short story The Contract on June 1 of this year. Soter’s background, her chosen genre, and her path to discovering her gift fascinate me.

KVT: Soter, tell me something about your family, past and present.

SL: I have always lived in Trinidad, and my family and ancestors have aways been gardeners. We plant and sell in the market on Fridays and Saturdays. We plant chive, thyme, parsley, and short crops like sweet peppers, tomatoes, cabbage, and ochres. I have four children and six grandchildren, all of whom live on Trinidad.

KVT: The main character of The Contract is a woman who washes clothes along the river. I understand that laundering is a part of your past as well.

SL: I worked as a maid until my girls completed Form 5 so that I could be home in the morning before they left for school and home in the afternoons when they returned. Then I started ironing because we needed more money for university and ironing paid better. That was in 1997. I put advertisements in the newspapers and got enough clients to fill my days. So I ironed from 6.30 am to 8.30 pm, Monday through Saturday, and Sunday between 7 am and 1 pm. I did this from 1997 to 2023. I still iron, but not as much anymore.

KVT: How did you first get interested in writing?

SL: Someone read an essay I’d written in primary school and said, “You know, you could be a writer.” I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know one could even be a writer. Then I read an advertisement in our newspaper about an aptitude test from The Writing School of London. It was a challenge to compose a story based on a photo they supplied. I did. I sent it, passed it, and took their correspondence course. I followed that up with their diploma in writing in 1983. By then I had four children, so writing had to take a backseat until my youngest got her degree in Pharmacy. Then she bought me a laptop and said “Mother go write!”

KVT: Why have you chosen the horror genre?

SL: I think horror chose me. We are from a superstitious community, immersed in a way of life that I now understand to be horror. I grew up with no electricity or indoor plumbing.  I washed and bathed by the river, and I toted water from a spring for all our household duties. Stories about soucouyant, lougaroo, La Diablesse, Papa Bois, and douen were part of our daily fare. Soucouyant are females who suck the blood of women and roll on men in their sleep. Lougaroo shape shift into animals, carrying chains and running about the country scaring people. La Diablesse is a woman who made a deal with the Devil in exchange for eternal beauty. She lures young boys to follow her until they are lost, then she beats them with her razor-sharp hair until they die. Papa Bois protects the animals in the forest. Douen are the babies who die before getting baptized. Stories and characters like these are the root of my horror orientation.

KVT: Wow, those are some scary images to introduce to children. Do you remember an incident from your youth where one of the superstitions seemed to take on a life of its own?

SL: As a child I was told that only devils are in the city. Then, at eleven years old, I passed the Common Entrance Exam for an Intermediate Girl school in Port-of-Spain. I moved there and was scared every day. I was sure my parents hated me because they sent me among the “devils.” I spent my days looking for horns and tails. Where were they hiding them? I never found the answer. I was also told that only devils go to the cinema. When I was about 21 years old, some friends invited me to see a movie. When I got home that night, I actually tried washing away the sin. That shows you how long those superstitions lasted.

KVT: When did you publish your first story? What are some of your writing credits since then?

SL: My first story was published in 2015 by Dark Chapter Press. Then I had others that appeared in Sirens Call Publications, Weird Mask, Wicked Shadow Press, Story Sanctum, and Migla Press.

KVT: If you look back on your work, what is your favorite piece you’ve written?

SL: My favorite is The Last Request of Gladimus McCarran for the simple reason that it was imagined, written, and submitted within a few hours after a long day of ironing.  For me that was quite an accomplishment.  It was published by the now defunct Sirens Call.  A reprint of that story along with others can be found at Metastellar.

KVT: What upcoming projects do you have in the works?

SL: At present, I’m writing a 30,000-word horror novella for Dark Holme Publishing and a short story for Wicked Shadow Press. I’m also attempting a full-length novel that will be based on my life but is not autobiographical.

KVT: Well, I certainly think your fascinating life is worthy of a book. Thanks so much for taking the time to spend with us.

SL: You’re very welcome!

In addition to the links above, you can find Soter on Facebook here.

by Tags: , , , , , , , 1 Comment

Under the Bell Jar with Sylvia

But I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure at all. How did I know that someday—at college, in Europe, somewhere, anywhere—the bell jar, with its stifling distortions, wouldn’t descend again? – from “The Bell Jar” by Sylvia Plath

Throughout my career, I walked with the wounded. I communed with those suffering grief, addiction, disease, and mental illness. I’m certain that my personal struggles, so close to the surface, helped me become what Henri Nouwen called a “wounded healer.” It was a privilege to share sacramental moments with fellow human beings.

There’s an incident seared in my memory. Bob, a member of a church I served, had reached the end of what he could tolerate. He took a pistol, walked out to his driveway around midnight, and shot himself. I lived two blocks away, where I was awoken by my phone jangling. It was a police officer. An ambulance was on its way, he said, but Bob, somehow still conscious, was asking for Pastor Krin to come to his side. I got there quickly, where I kneeled next to him, his head haloed by blood. Under the bell jar, our eyes met. I assured him that both his Creator and I loved him, and that nothing could separate him from that reality. I believed it then; I still do.

Miraculously, he survived without brain damage and went on to heal the underlying depression that drew him into the abyss.

My empathy for those who suffer has never subsided. Recently it extended to Esther Greenwood, the main character of Sylvia Plath’s only novel, The Bell Jar, published just before she committed suicide. Set during a single summer, it’s the story of a young woman’s descent into depression. Beginning with a writer’s internship in New York, she plummets through a series of mental asylums, enduring primitive shock treatments along the way.

The novel had been on my radar for years, one of those “must reads” for students of serious literature. I knew about Sylvia’s tumultuous relationship with poet Ted Hughes. I had read some of her poems which really didn’t speak to me, but this novel was both lyrical and terrifying. I will never forget it.

The bell jar becomes a metaphor, a symbol of the pressures Esther faces to conform to societal norms. The conventional paths of marriage and motherhood, held up as ultimate goals for women, feel like chains to her, stifling her ambitions and suffocating her spirit. She yearns for freedom, for the ability to define her own life, yet every attempt to assert control pushes her further into despair.

Esther speaks of this inner turmoil. “I was supposed to be the author of my own life.” “I wanted to be intelligent and popular.” “I wanted to be a perfect person.” “I always believed that if I did or said the right thing, then everything would turn out all right.” “What is the point of this life if we are not living it to the fullest?”

Increasingly, depression dictates her thoughts. “It was as if I were always wearing a mask.” “I felt like I was drowning.” “The world was a big, dark ball, and I was all alone.” “The only thing I could do was stay quiet and let the shadows take me.” “I wanted to disappear.”

Seen through the bell jar’s distortion, Esther’s urge to vanish means ending her life. She contemplates multiple methods. Jumping off a roof. Drowning in the ocean. Then, in her most dedicated effort, taking an overdose of pills.

That final attempt still chills me. Esther makes her way to the family cellar, then to a dugout tucked in its furthest recess. She crawls inside, pulls some firewood against the entrance, and takes every pill in her bottle.

It’s hard to describe how that affected me. I was right there, sitting next to her in the damp darkness, powerless to banish her despair, bearing witness to a life that mattered as preciously as any of ours.

My colleagues and I call it the “ministry of presence.” Simply being with another person during their trials. Refraining from trite platitudes. Offering only love and grace. Over the years, it led me to sit beneath the bell jar with so many people, enduring their pressures with them, believing that the necessary remedies would emerge but that love and empathy come first.

Admittedly, I took this further than many. I remember being at the bedside of an elderly woman in her final days. She had no family left, and her failing heart would soon stop beating. I had been walking with her through all of this like a surrogate son.

She looked up at me, and in a weak voice said, “Pastor Krin, will you lie down next to me?”

Frankly, I didn’t care what the hospital staff felt. There was enough space next to her frail body, so I stretched out alongside her. She turned, laid her head against my shoulder, and softly fell asleep.

As I looked up at the ceiling of the hospital room, listening to her shallow breathing and the echo of voices in the hallway, something transcendent happened. The distortions of the bell jar completely cleared. There was only the present, the connection of two lives, and the omnipresent love that embraces all of us if we let it.

by Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment