Published stories and articles by Nat Newman
Commonwealth Short Story Prize winner
The Death of Margaret Roe
Every person has their own secrets, but Margaret Roe had Havilah Brown’s.
“Havilah Brown lived on the outskirts of town, blessed with an abundance of land and a paucity of dependents. He came in only now and then, only to get his regular supplies from Evan Owens’ grocery store, and on each occasion he would cross my threshold, maybe once, maybe twice, cross my door with his thick-soled boots and darken my floor with his shadow that stretched across the whole room. A big man always was Havilah Brown.”
Pushcart Prize Nominee
Hitting the town, she's just another animal on the hunt... Or being hunted.
“She slides between lubricated dancers, feels her shirt dampen with other people’s sweat. She closes her eyes and feels her way through the heat for somewhere cooler. The beats beat her brain. I’m in bed with everyone, she thinks. The bodies writhe and she is in a pit of snakes. But they have no teeth, these snakes: they’re worms. She is a worm, too. Blind in the dirt she wraps herself around other worms.”
Under the Radar
Nine Arches Press
Being Catherine's wife means losing her own identity.
Catherine never addresses me by name. ‘Honey,’ she calls me. Or ‘sweet thing’. ‘Dear’ sometimes, when she’s tired. ‘Bitch’ when she’s more tired.
Catherine, I call her. As though she is my stepmother.