Nate Rankin

Nate Rankin (nom de plume Nathaniel Heely) is a graduate of the University of Arkansas and holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Chapman University. His work has previously appeared in Burrow Press Review, decomP, Identity Theory, the Los Angeles Review of Los Angeles, and several others. He is currently working on his first novel.

Roses

Pasadena, California. The Heisman winner stands in the tunnel looking out. He is big for a tailback. Standing 6’1” and a shade over two hundred twenty pounds. His body is an architectural structure. Despite his towering eminence his steps are gentle, humbled. There are rose petals falling in front of his view. Petals even deeper and richer than his jersey. Their texture is like lotion. Glints of setting sunlight catch them as they fall. In the shade the color is dark and secret, but the light t

The Serpent’s Wink

How many stories give a sense of living in history? Our new tale does. Read Nathaniel Heely’s “The Serpent’s Wink,” in which main character Andrew Schulden is caught amid financial manipulations, media noise and street protests– the chaos of the contemporary world. “I’m fucking helping people here.” Matranga’s voice interrupted, “I’m really really trying to at least and,” that was snot, flecked with snowflakes again, now tripping down his lip, “and people—my own goddamn friends—are calling me

On the Afterlife

The existence of the Afterlife was verified by a team of twelve scientists working at CERN after an accident with the Large Hadron Collider caused them to die and meet postmortem in the waiting room of Heaven. They discussed what went wrong, of course, and spent what felt like two hours trying to posit different scenarios of where they had ended up: alternate universes, wormholes, black holes, another dimension. When an attendant came—they called him an angel, he refused any such title—he offere

Metaxy

“Hey,” he tells you. “Wake up. It’s time for group.” You were dreaming about death though you don’t know just what death is. There’s yellowing spit on the pillow and you reek of Marlboro Reds. Every time you’ve been here they’ve always given you the same room. 109. It is an expected occurrence, your life is full of rhythm; a pendulum between poles. You postulate that they give you the same room because they want you to feel that you are meant to be here; that there is purpose and order even at
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