Charles Turner
Bio
My work is based on who I am now and have been in the past. It is based on a lifetime of reading. Autobiography, standard fiction, sci/fi, fantasy, westerns. I plan to put together a collection of short stories to publish via Amazon.
Stories (76/0)
The Trouble with Peace
ONE Dare Wistrom was a dark and handsome boy, who, when he smiled (which was not often) could be quite engaging. He lived with his parents, John and Emily Wistrom, in a tiny community, near a deep wood, in Pennsylvania. They were, by one small road and one hour of driving, connected to the appurtenances of civilization.
By Charles Turnerabout a year ago in Fiction
The Hollow Planet - part one
The sun peeking through her window cautioned Gwenn to get on schedule. She appreciated that she would be slightly late this morning, as it had become the norm for her on these troubled days. It was so much harder to be motivated anymore. Nevertheless, she, a tall, wiry, kid, gulped some orange juice, ate a bite off a bagel, then took up her backpack and left out the door. Gwenn was ready to challenge the world one more time.
By Charles Turnerabout a year ago in Fiction
Uncle Hugh Comes to Town
We were looking through my collection of photos of my father from years ago. I told Misty that my Uncle Hugh could be seen in many of them. She quickly picked out one that caught her eye. Holding it up, she said, “This is Uncle Hugh?”
By Charles Turnerabout a year ago in Fiction
Lying in the Grass
I lay in the grass with the night wind lightly mussing my hair, aware of the dark sky and wispy clouds crossing the orb of the moon, aware of the darker shades of night where a copse of trees towered between me and the fallen down barn on the old Carter farm. A winged shadow passed before me, plunging into the lesser foliage where likely some hapless rodent had been about its own business. It was a Barn Owl, certainly.
By Charles Turnerabout a year ago in Fiction
Writer on the Storm
I always viewed myself as a looker-in standing on a bubble that is human society, an entity kept out because unable to break the tension on the surface. Growing up, there were no friends, no mutual bonding with anyone except sporadically with one of my brothers. From the time I began to mature, others viewing me being ultra-aware in the current situation but looking straight ahead, looking to them too self-important to interact with them labeled me as a snob and more. To make it worse, I have extremely broad shoulders and a stiff way of walking which along with the just described demeanor makes many read me as wishing to project a tough-guy image. Stiff, shrinking inwardly, avoiding contact - Yet considered a challenge to others' well-being. Any who would initiate a conversation were met with stammering or silence. They quickly backed away. The times I screwed up the courage to act normal the result was wildly inappropriate - words and behavior-wise. How I got inside the bubble makes for a long and twisted tale.
By Charles Turnerabout a year ago in Psyche
