Listen to Episode 8 of Light at the Edge of Darkness radio theater

Episode 8 of the Light at the Edge of Darkness radio theater is ready for download or you can go to the Lost Genre Guild blog and listen to it there (as well as any of the other short stories you may have missed).

This week's episode, "Chosen of God" written by Andrea and Adam Graham: Casino owner A.L. Snyder comes of age in the years of the Empire and must find his place in the world.

A Preview:

“COME ON IN TO Snyder’s Casino, the best place to gamble without going to Reno. Come on in to Snyder’s Casino.”

Snyder put his feet up on the chips counter. He could listen to that all night. The dancing girl quit after a mere two hours of singing that, so now he just played a loop from his radio ad. That had been a calculated risk—Idaho had a law against gambling.

He puffed on his cigar. Not much of a smoker; the cigar just projected the right image.

The sheriff sauntered in. “Got my money?”

Most in these parts had a superstition against the international currency, or rather that trading in it required a computerized ID tag embedded in the right wrist. Irrational or not, who could resist the big bucks available tax-free on the underground market?

He pulled out a pile of silver from beneath the desk and slid it across the counter. “Here.”

The sheriff pocketed the archaic currency. “Mind if I play a few?”

“Sure.” Snyder opened his drawer and handed the sheriff fifty red chips. “First fifty dollars is on the house.” He’d have his silver back before dawn.

Thank God Mama Borden still lived in Boise. He’d disappointed her enough without the casino. Still, for a high school dropout who chose enlisting over the pen—and got court-martialed three years ago to boot—he hadn’t done half bad. Most twenty-two-year-olds he knew were up to their noses in debt and bussing tables, or something equally glamorous.

Chico ran in. “Boss, someone outside wants to see you.”

“Tell them to come in.”

Chico frowned. “He refused to enter a place that hires Spics.”

Snyder reached under the counter and grabbed his old friend Colt.

The scent of fear poured from Chico. “Hey, Boss, you promised your old woman—”

“—I’ll try and be peaceful.” Snyder slipped the gun inside his coat. “But it doesn’t hurt to be prepared to speak a language he’ll understand.”