M. Christopher Horton
My name is M. Christopher Horton, and I write short stories. People accuse me of trauma writing — of glorifying crime, drugs, and violence. Maybe. I don’t know. I write about what scares me, and about the cruelty, comedy, and callousness of human beings. Crime, race, and the supernatural. The work is part memoir, part fantasy, part therapy, part confession, and it is not for the faint of heart.
My heroes are Huey, Malcolm, Ali, and the women and gays who stand fearless in the face of white male aggression, regression, and fragility. I don’t want your money or your respect, dude. I just want you to get the fuck out my face.
Mel Rook
My name is Mel Rook, and I write short stories. I love doing it. I don’t know if I’m any good at it. I’m not fancy — there’s a sink in my living room.
I grew up on Star Wars and Star Trek, on the dream of talking to your computer. The day I got an Alexa I renamed her Computer — I just wish she had Majel Barrett’s voice. I’m a child of Asimov, Tolkien, Rice, Dhalgren, Dune, and Doctor Who, and I love Ray Bradbury more than I love pizza.
I’m psyched about AI. I just wish it weren’t being built by sociopathic ketamine freaks. Save the planet, keep the AI — just wrestle it away from the greedy, racist assholes that make it rotten to its core. I love science fiction, and I hate what hoarded wealth does to a future that’s supposed to belong to all of us.
Melvin Horton
My name is Melvin, and I write short stories.
I love Charles Bukowski, Tom Robbins, Vladimir Nabokov, and Milan Kundera — but more than books,
I like creative artists who write with confidence, and honesty. I’m not a fan of pretending to be someone I’m not — which is funny, for a writer with three personalities.
This site is a living archive. All work is subject to revision for clarity and mechanics. Each piece is intended to stand on its own.
