Rock: Fiction by Joanna Lees

       

“MUD!”

The mud matched the flat grey of the desert plain so well that we were half a dozen steps into it before Lee shouted. It closed around our ankles and slid over the tops of our boots, tepid and clinging as we scrambled back to solid ground. Horace got out first and stood like an anchor, giving us each a hand out of the suction that threatened to pull us under.

Lee was the first one in and the last one out. The second his feet touched the cracked earth again he dropped his pack and fell flat on his back. “I hate this planet,” he muttered, his chest heaving from the narrow escape. “I mean it. All it’s done for five days is give us the finger.”

Mack leaned over with her hands on the knees of her grubby, tan flight suit. “I’m not complaining yet,” she muttered. “We got out of the ship in one piece, didn’t we?”

Horace unhooked the dented metal canteen from his belt and unscrewed the cap. Fine sand grated in the threads. “Mack’s right,” he said, taking a sip and passing it to me. “It coulda been a lot worse.”

Untitled Family Drama by Michael C. Lorah

Good day, Shotgun readers, I’ve returned to share more work-in-progress. Let me know what you think.

Untitled family drama

By Michael C Lorah

Chapter One

The Thresher’s season might as well be over, Roy Templeton thought. Mid-June, the long baseball summer just barely underway, and the team had sunk like an anchor to the rocky bottom of the Florida State League. Little Leaguers played with more poise; the Thresher kids threw the ball around wildly, hurled bats and water coolers at the slightest suggestion of a controversial call, and self-promoted at any opportunity. No matter how creative Roy’s public relations campaigns, getting fans into the ballpark to watch such immature gamesmanship proved impossible. Roy was under considerable pressure to improve attendance, but he didn’t have anything in his bag of tricks to overcome a simply terrible product. The blistering heat of Florida’s early summer certainly wasn’t making his job any easier either.

It was too damn hot for baseball anyway. Who wanted to sit under the cancerous sun, breathing scorched, humid air? He hadn’t walked down to the field, the open, sun-baked, heat-shimmering field, for three weeks now – never left his temperature-controlled office unless he was meeting in somebody else’s temperature-controlled office or stepping out for dinner at a too-air-conditioned local eatery. He could see the sunlight lancing down into the Earth, burning away any comfort, eating up the life of Floridians everywhere.

            Roy looked forward to getting away for two weeks, even if he had to take his laptop and work cell. All the summer’s giveaways and major promotions were already scheduled, so it was only the follow-through that required his attention. Getting fourteen days off early in the baseball season, even at the minor league A-ball level, required calling in a lot of favors. Roy’s boss Paul Simonson called him into the office three different times to ask why he couldn’t have vacationed during the offseason. Of course, the year’s promotions needed to be arranged prior to the season starting. The kids being in school added another wrinkle. Roy wasn’t sure those unavoidable factors registered entirely in Paul’s mind, which had sincere difficulty working outside his own box of strategies. But he’d gotten his vacation approved, and it was time to enjoy it.

An Untitled Fantasy Story by Michael C. Lorah

Hello, Shotgun readers; Michael Lorah here. I’d like to share with you the first chapter of an in-progress fantasy story I’ve been working on. I hope you enjoy it.

An untitled fantasy story

by Michael C Lorah

Once upon a time…

Chapter One

The Par-Tay

…there was a young man named Jerrod. Tall and lean, with a narrow face, a full head of dark hair and shimmering evergreen eyes, Jerrod lived quietly in city once named Plohton in a kingdom formerly called Valencia. His skill with a sword ranked second to none of his neighbors, though his foster parents – Knorr and Lyrra – ensured that his physical prowess never surpassed his compassion for finding a fair and equitable solution to any problem.

            Plohton lay on a long, sweeping grass-laden plain, sitting high on a slope above the Ploh River. Decades ago, when Valencia prospered, Plohton was regarded as one of the world’s busiest and most important port cities. Many years ago, during the golden rule of King Humorff, food was plentiful, trade profitable, and enemies dared not move against the mighty Valencian army. All this, once, many years ago. Now, finding food may prove a fatal proposition, trade became a foreign language, and enemies … enemies still stayed their distance. Perhaps, fickle and vengeful, they enjoyed seeing the once-great kingdom bowed low. More likely, they feared Kaarg and dared not intrude into his territory.

            Every spring, heavy rains pushed the Ploh River beyond its banks, and the waters spilled onto the plains, replenishing the farmlands surrounding Plohton with rich soil from the riverbed. The neighboring kingdom to the south, Juntiper, claimed land surrounding the river, and the conflict between the two nations extended back generations. It was, however, not the most telling or personal conflict that had arisen between the two nations. That particular story is best left for a later page in this drama.