Western short stories Bio. of Joe Mogel
Joe Mogel was born in Somerville, Massachusetts, and grew up in Athol and Worcester, also in Massachusetts. He was home schooled for both grade and high school, giving him an extremely open and broad education. During those years Joe developed a love of classic Westerns, horror, humor and literature. A graduate from Quinsigamond College, with multiple degrees in tech and engineering, Joe is taking time now to focus on his writing as an art and as a career.
Artistically, Joe is influenced by the prose styles of Ernest Hemmingway and Alexander Dumas ("Though you might not be able to tell", He says with a laugh.), among others. His fascination with the old west began in his history class. More than the stage coach and gold rush, Joe was interested in the quirky and unusual elements of Western history and culture, both of which influenced his writing. ("People say that history is boring, but I have yet to find boring history from the Old West!" He adds).
Joe currently live and works in Worcester, Mass, and continues to actively pursue writing ("Though work can get in the way sometimes!")
The pounding on the door was loud but brief. Priest Fransisco, in a nightshirt and holding a candle, groggily shuffled through the mission church to the front door...Read More of Outlaw's End
Whipping up a dust trail, the stagecoach pulled around a tight bend in the road. The early autumn sun hung in the cloudless sky, glinting off the tin roofs in the town completely encircled by the skeletal remains of a collapsed stone wall. A sign, tilting to one side on a broken wood post, read Jericho...Read More of Jerico's Siren
“We ought to rob a train.”
The piano was tinkling as the saloon patrons milled through the poker room. Among the tables of barflies and high rollers, there sat a group of six rumpled, middle-aged men. An empty pitcher of beer and a bowl full of nuts stood over the cards and poker chips.
“Rob a train? You can’t even dig a proper silver mine! How are you supposed to rob a train? You’re out smarted by dirt!”
“Hobble your lip!”...Read More of 4:15 Fiasco
Miles and miles of red sand, Joshua trees and distant canyon walls encountered their eyes. The jeep rumbled along the mesa-encircled highway. Asphalt hummed beneath the car.
“Dude, I’m getting hungry. Are there any sandwiches left?” Brian asked. He was a shaggy haired twenty something with a California accent and a sunburn, sitting shotgun. His tee shirt, like his three traveling companions, bore the Greek letters
Rho Delta Chi...Read More of Red Ghost
The Attempted Robbery at Joshua Gulch
The sun was just cresting the mesa on the edge of town, as the men rode past a sign emblazoned with the words Joshua Gulch. Tents dotted a hill that sloped south of buildings set in the small valley. The dust from the men's horses settled in front of collapsed mine entrances as they rode into the small village. A handful of sleepy townspeople strolled around the packed earth Plaza...Read More of The Attempted Robbery at Joshua Gulch