Hello and welcome to my Medium profile page. You can scroll down and see more of my work here on the site — a mix of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. I write other places too, and I’m working on my first novel.
If you’d like to join me on my creative journey, you can follow my progress on Goodreads — Terrye Turpin Author
I have a blog where I post short essays on my experiences in Texas — Let’s Get Out of Here
I also have an Amazon author page, where you’ll find short stories I’ve published and my first collection of stories, many of them published here on Medium. …
One cool spring morning, Delores Jackson spotted a dragon at her birdfeeder. She’d always thought dragons were huge, hulking beasts that fed on valiant knights and virtuous maidens, but this one had landed on her suet.
“What do you think of that?” Delores asked Bumper, her black cat. They stood looking out the glass storm door. Delores sipped her morning cup of coffee while Bumper eyed the birds.
The dragon was barely bigger than a hummingbird, around the same size as the finches who flitted about the feeder like children on a playground. The strange beast’s scales flashed like blue, green, and purple jewels in the sunlight. His leathery wings seemed paper thin, with tiny veins like rivers running through. …
I love a good carnival. I’m not picky, as long as there’s a small chance I might encounter an evil clown, creepy carny, or murderous roller coaster, I’m in. My introduction to the dark side of amusements came with Ray Bradbury’s excellent novel, Something Wicked This Way Comes.
If you like your fair scary, here are a couple you might enjoy:
Not as scary:
I’ve even written a poem inspired by carnival food (and love):
Finally, here are some humorous, mostly true, creative nonfiction pieces:
If you’ve made it this far, here are some carnival inspired photos:
Jostling along a narrow, snow covered mountain road in a bus, psychedelic or not, was no treat to my keester. Since no one else seemed to know where we were headed, Helen pulled out her phone and checked Google maps.
“We’re in the Catskills.” She held up her screen and I followed the bouncing blue dot as it wound its way up a mountain.
“I hope Danny has a plan, because I sure don’t.” I settled against the cracked vinyl of the bus seat and tried to catch a few winks. Not an easy task — the milk maids had joined the Santa plumber chorus and they were mangling their way through Feliz Navidad. …
“We didn’t order room service.” Before I could shut the door, Santa stuck a size thirteen combat boot into the gap.
“No time for funny business Stark, there’s a war going on and you’ve been drafted.”
“You got the wrong room pal.” Helen stepped up beside me. “The only battles we’re planning involve a wrestling match between me and lover boy. It’s not a tag team event either, so scram.”
Santa yanked down the fake beard he’d been wearing as a mask. “Don’t you recognize me?”
I squinted, trying to place the fading red hair and splotches of freckles scattered across his face. “Hmm… something keeps knocking at my brain,” I said. “Weren’t you the smart-ass kid brother in a 1970s sitcom? Donny? …
April stared at the ugly straw basket on her counter. Ragged holes dotted one side, as if a mouse had chewed its way out. A gigantic red bow topped the handle, hiding the face of the person waiting behind it. April pushed the basket aside to reveal an elderly woman dressed like a Christmas peacock. Her red blouse had swirls of green paisley, and strands of gold and silver beads sparkled in her long grey hair.
“Oh. Hello Mrs. Finch,” April said. “Did you have an appointment today?”
Clementine Finch was a regular patient at Newman Eye Care. They’d finished her cataract surgery the month before. “Hello sweetheart. I’ve just dropped by to bring you something special.” Mrs. Finch lifted the red-checked napkin covering the contents. The aroma of warm cookies and chocolate wafted across the counter. …