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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...

She saw her father at Smith’s By accident She was paying the heat bill After paying the heat bill, she deposited some of the money he had given her for rent As she walked out of Aisle 6 near the cereal, she saw him His eyes were looking up, searching for something But she saw him She decided that when he turned his gaze towards Captain Crunch he couldn’t possibly see her Walking past him quietly, she snuck out of his view Her father was wearing a black sweater and black jogging pants He looked scrawny and not like her father Whenever she saw her father, her heart ached Especially from a distance, from a place where he couldn’t reciprocate her gaze   Her father had suffered extensively during his sixty years of existence Since arriving in the States in his thirties, he had worked for the poultry factory for nearly thirty years, and when he retired he was penniless, not from gambling, but from poor money management After all, her father never had a high school education He dropped out of school when he was 15 to join the Army, fighting against the communists and Viet Cong When the war ended, no one wanted to hire him, especially those from the North, moving South after the evasion He was a white sheet of paper that no one wanted So her father worked for a truck company that transported fruits and vegetables from the highlands of Vietnam into the cities He transported goods from Ha Giang, Lao Cai, Quang Ninh, and even from Dalat He transported Japanese plums, Asian pears, etc Domestic market was his expertise   For three weeks now, she hadn’t spoken to him Despite sharing the same bedroom and same bed, she hadn’t technically spoken to him She had purposefully been avoiding him She hid under the bedsheets in the late morning, concealing her face beneath a mask of fabric Sometimes the fabric clung to her nose and for moments she felt suffocated as if a cat had been sitting on her face and inhaling

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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Art

Issue No. 14

Lenin was a Mushroom

Thomas Dylan Eaton

Art

Issue No. 14

Cast as the ‘savage, ugly’ part in the Popular Mechanics live show, Necrorealists were radical artists in their own...

Art

Issue No. 7

Pyramid Schemes: Reading the Shard

Lawrence Lek

Art

Issue No. 7

These sketches were created to illustrate an essay by Lawrence Lek in The White Review No. 7, ‘Pyramid Schemes:...

fiction

December 2013

A Lucky Man, One of the Luckiest

Katie Kitamura

fiction

December 2013

Will you take the garbage when you go out? My wife said this without turning from the sink where...

 

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