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Chris Newlove Horton
Chris Newlove Horton is a writer living in London.

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DATE NIGHT

Prize Entry

April 2016

Chris Newlove Horton

Prize Entry

April 2016

He said, ‘Tell me about yourself.’ He said, ‘Tell me about you.’ He said, ‘Tell me everything. I’m interested.’ He said, ‘I want to...

fiction

April 2015

Heavy

Chris Newlove Horton

fiction

April 2015

It is a two lane road somewhere in North America. The car is pulled onto the shoulder with the...

Moments ago, the woman with the lovely dimples had been shivering, utterly ravaged by the evening, but now her face was plastered with a smile, her dimples deepening as she gathered up her clothes A moment ago she had been a newlywed, teeth chattering, pale and in agony Now she was a happy young divorcee   The man had already dissolved their union He had emphatically recited his three talaq: I divorce you, I divorce you, I divorce you Their first night together was also their last Sitting on the bed’s golden sheets with the scent of jasmine floating in the air, Dimples had taken stock of the situation Sweat still clung to her skin and her long hair fell across her back onto the pillow She was still half-naked but she had to leave immediately, because she was no longer the mistress of the house   There was the sound of the man’s impatient steps behind the door, keplak-keplak She recalled him stripping her naked and then undressing himself, just a short while ago Dimples had frozen like ice while that man was on fire, leaping upon her and thrusting ferociously Then he stopped for a moment, his forehead wrinkled Not for very long, but long enough for Dimples to ask silently, What’s wrong? Am I too young for you, Master? The man’s reply was to make the bed rattle like a palm tree branch being thrashed by a hurricane as he hurriedly finished his lovemaking Then they both lay back for a moment, flooded with sweat and gasping for breath   But the man was still on fire – not with desire, but with rage He threw a blanket over Dimples, jumped up from the bed and pulled on his shorts Without even looking in her direction, he cursed her before severing the ties between them, slamming the door of their wedding chamber with a final shout: ‘You whore!’   *   The woman with the two snot-nosed kids had watched stonily as the headman had bound Dimples and her destiny to that man Dimples didn’t have the strength to return her malicious stare – drowning in

Contributor

August 2014

Chris Newlove Horton

Contributor

August 2014

Chris Newlove Horton is a writer living in London.

James Richards: Not Blacking Out...

Art

December 2011

Chris Newlove Horton

Art

December 2011

Artist James Richards appropriates audio-visual material gathered from a range of sources, which he then edits into elaborate, fragmented collages.   But whereas his...

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fiction

April 2013

How to be an Astronaut

J. D. A. Winslow

fiction

April 2013

I am standing in front of a room full of people reading out a story. The room is dark....

poetry

July 2011

Comfort Station

Medbh McGuckian

poetry

July 2011

A witness has said that you raped women And brought them to the barracks to be used by the...

feature

September 2013

To Sing the Love of Danger

Adnan Sarwar

feature

September 2013

The Gulf War made my first year at Towneley High School uncomfortable. White lads taunted us Pakistanis with pictures...

 

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