Eric Bishop

SOMEONE TO FOLLOW

The people in my group speak English, but the words confuse me. “Haystack” and “pillow” mean something different to Grand Canyon Boatmen than to someone raised in the dairy country of Northern Utah. I’d floated the San Juan River a year earlier, so I could row—sort of. But I’d never seen a rapid like this.…

CHURCH BROKE

Too much of life is autopilot. We do this. We do that. I’m guilty of taking it at cruise control. A skiing metaphor I once heard applies. Something about “just standing on the boards and watching the hill come up toward me.” Someday I’ll make my last run to the bottom of the mountain. So…

PEARLS BEFORE SWINE

Whatever it was, my horse didn’t want any. Krasher’s ears were cocked forward at attention. Ten years of ranch life had taught him to relax— as much as a horse could. Most of the stuff he thought would kill him hadn’t even made him tired, like the first time he carried a pack-saddle. But horses…

I AGREE (JUST PUT DOWN THE AX)

  Everyone in the neighborhood loves Bill. The guy’s a retired fire-fighter out of California, a Vietnam vet, marathoner and all around big-hearted guy. He’s retired now, migrated back to Utah with religion in his heart and wanting to live among Zion’s Saints. Closer to the source some would say. The pure spigot of God’s light emanating…

FIELD LIONS IN A BAG

Sleep avoided me after the pediatric cases. With the adults and teenagers, I could usually doze off, but then empathy caused the nightmares. One night I was a rodeo clown with the bull’s hooves cracking my ribs. The next I was the carpenter falling from the roof. I’d slide from the peak and claw the…

Novel Coming August 2013

My novel, “The Samaritan’s Pistol” will be released in one year. In anticipation, I invite you to read my first blog post, “Go Forth And Kick Ass.” Thanks to everyone for your support. I’d love to hear any comments.

GO FORTH AND KICK ASS

My daughter steals the soccer ball. The opposing defender chases, stabbing with her feet, but she’s overpowered. A lane opens only my daughter sees. She kicks. The ball scoots through a forest of uniforms to her teammate’s feet. Another pass to Mountain Crest’s forward who stands alone facing the keeper. The net whiffs back. The…