by Nathan Alling Long
There were many rumours about Mr. E, that the E stood for Eccentric, or Erratic, or Erotic. No one knew. But here Jacob sat in Mr. E’s dining room, sipping tea from a plain white mug, talking about philosophy. Everything seemed quite normal.
Almost.
Jacob couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right, though the lamp gave off a warm glow against the soft white walls, and the mug felt magical in his hands.
He didn’t know that it was made of a unicorn horn, the walls were painted in mermaid milk, and the lamp shade made from unspeakable skin.
Author bio: Nathan’s collection of fifty flash fiction, The Origin of Doubt, was just released from Press 53. His unpublished collection, Two Stories, Some Tales, and a Yarn, was a finalist for the Hudson Book Manuscript Prize and a semifinalist for the Iowa Fiction Award. For more information, other stories, or essays, please visit http://wp.stockton.edu/longn/.
E is part of 101 Fiction issue 18.
Showing posts with label Nathan Alling Long. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nathan Alling Long. Show all posts
Sunday, 4 March 2018
Sunday, 3 September 2017
Pin
by Nathan Alling Long
Security was tight, lines were long, and of course, there was just the one gate, though most people were trying to get in, not out. That made the guards suspicious of Hanza, with his dreadlocks and ragged clothes.
But Hanza remained calm as the guards searched his bags. He smiled as he lifted his arms and took off his shoes. They even pressed their latex-gloved hands through his hair, but found nothing.
Eventually, they let him out the pearly gate. They’d missed that single pin in his hair – a needle in a haystack.
Another thousand angels smuggled out of Heaven.
Author bio: Nathan Alling Long lives in Philadelphia and teaches creative writing at Stockton University. His work appears in various journals, include Tin House, Glimmer Train, Story Quarterly, and Crab Orchard Review. His fifty-story flash collection The Origin of Doubt will be released by Press 53 in Spring 2018. He can be found at https://blogs.stockton.edu/longn/
Pin is part of 101 Fiction issue 16.
Security was tight, lines were long, and of course, there was just the one gate, though most people were trying to get in, not out. That made the guards suspicious of Hanza, with his dreadlocks and ragged clothes.
But Hanza remained calm as the guards searched his bags. He smiled as he lifted his arms and took off his shoes. They even pressed their latex-gloved hands through his hair, but found nothing.
Eventually, they let him out the pearly gate. They’d missed that single pin in his hair – a needle in a haystack.
Another thousand angels smuggled out of Heaven.
Author bio: Nathan Alling Long lives in Philadelphia and teaches creative writing at Stockton University. His work appears in various journals, include Tin House, Glimmer Train, Story Quarterly, and Crab Orchard Review. His fifty-story flash collection The Origin of Doubt will be released by Press 53 in Spring 2018. He can be found at https://blogs.stockton.edu/longn/
Pin is part of 101 Fiction issue 16.
Sunday, 1 June 2014
Spring
by Nathan Alling Long
You talk of fairy tales, back when dragons roamed.
“Where do you think they went?” I ask, but you don’t know.
There’s not much time left for us, so I decide I should tell you.
“They’re still here,” I say. “We just aren’t good at seeing them. Look at that range of hills: a dragon’s back. That volcano: its head, its nostrils.”
“But it doesn’t move,” you say.
“It moves,” I explain. “We’re too fast-paced now to see it. Soon, the planet will be warm enough and they’ll all awaken. It will be their world then.”
“When?” you ask.
“Summer.”
Author bio: Nathan Alling Long grew up in a log cabin in rural Maryland and travelled around the world before settling in Philadelphia, PA, where he writes, bakes bread, and teaches. His work has appeared in over fifty journals and anthologies, some of which can be found at his website: https://blogs.stockton.edu/longn/
You talk of fairy tales, back when dragons roamed.
“Where do you think they went?” I ask, but you don’t know.
There’s not much time left for us, so I decide I should tell you.
“They’re still here,” I say. “We just aren’t good at seeing them. Look at that range of hills: a dragon’s back. That volcano: its head, its nostrils.”
“But it doesn’t move,” you say.
“It moves,” I explain. “We’re too fast-paced now to see it. Soon, the planet will be warm enough and they’ll all awaken. It will be their world then.”
“When?” you ask.
“Summer.”
Author bio: Nathan Alling Long grew up in a log cabin in rural Maryland and travelled around the world before settling in Philadelphia, PA, where he writes, bakes bread, and teaches. His work has appeared in over fifty journals and anthologies, some of which can be found at his website: https://blogs.stockton.edu/longn/
Spring is part of 101 Fiction issue 4.
Saturday, 1 March 2014
Alone
by Nathan Alling Long
In the woods, he had always felt it, that silent invisible, moving when he moved, still and patient as he stood still or sat quiet on a rock. He thought it was just the flow, which moves through all things, or his lonely mind, imagining a presence to accompany him on his days.
But once, when he whipped his head around, he saw it for an instant, before it flashed behind a tree. The pale face, like snow; the matted fur or clothes, like leaves. And those eyes, some deep water, staring at him. Now he wished he were alone.
Author bio: Nathan Alling Long grew up in a log cabin in rural Maryland and travelled around the world before settling in Philadelphia, PA, where he writes, bakes bread, and teaches. His work has appeared in over fifty journals and anthologies, some of which can be found at his website:
https://blogs.stockton.edu/longn/
In the woods, he had always felt it, that silent invisible, moving when he moved, still and patient as he stood still or sat quiet on a rock. He thought it was just the flow, which moves through all things, or his lonely mind, imagining a presence to accompany him on his days.
But once, when he whipped his head around, he saw it for an instant, before it flashed behind a tree. The pale face, like snow; the matted fur or clothes, like leaves. And those eyes, some deep water, staring at him. Now he wished he were alone.
Author bio: Nathan Alling Long grew up in a log cabin in rural Maryland and travelled around the world before settling in Philadelphia, PA, where he writes, bakes bread, and teaches. His work has appeared in over fifty journals and anthologies, some of which can be found at his website:
https://blogs.stockton.edu/longn/
Alone is part of 101 Fiction issue 3.
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