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)
XI-321
1 “Negats, kid. Zephyr doesn’t do that. We might make a little jaunt across the Milky Way to deliver bags of parcels a few times a year. We may send a single drone to the stars nearest the Sun. But, no, we do not deliver missives to the Lone Ranger on Earth. That is simply beyond our capabilities.”
By Charles Turner3 years ago in Fiction
Stumpy the Toad
One It was inevitable that Robbie should find such a door. You see, there are certain children behind which looms, in giant letters, the word PROBLEM. In Robbie’s case, it simply was not fair. He was not such a bad boy. Perhaps it was his silence, perhaps the refusal to give in, which made others feel so strongly about him. He was admired or disliked and there was nothing in between, for the lines were all too clearly drawn.
By Charles Turner3 years ago in Fiction
A Tale of Two Kitties
From the instant Merton slipped it from behind himself and pushed it into her hands Berta loved the little ball of fur. It snuggled in her hands against her chest emitting little kitten purrs and closed its eyes. Brownie, she named it. From the start, Brownie was adventurous, prowling the house, getting into mischief, climbing everywhere, clawing fabrics, and knocking objects off of shelves. Merton fixed Brownie up with a crawl hole so that he could do his business outside. Having come from a union of Havana Brown and yellow tabby, Brownie grew into a handsome cat, sometimes a house sitter, other times sleeping near the house by the driveway. Merton was fond of Brownie too, with Berta claiming full proprietorship inside the house and he bonding with him when meeting up in the yard. He kept mum on the friendship with Brownie because he did not wish to appear to compete with Berta for his affection.
By Charles Turner3 years ago in Fiction
Troublesome Journey
Ave Stuart, on a journey from his native Virginia, came into a small western town looking for a bed to spend the night in. He left his tired horse at the livery, with instructions it is fed, groomed, and stabled overnight. He mustered the energy to jump a muddy puddle on his way to the wooden walk on the far side and the Open Arms Hotel. Walking with slow deliberate steps, his weariness nearly overpowering him, Ave made it into the lobby and he dropped his saddlebags by his feet. The clerk was not in sight. “Hello,” he called out.
By Charles Turner3 years ago in Fiction