Theresa Fox Turner

“Mater Pie” by Theresa Fox Turner

Dirk started taking daily drives after he’d retired, usually ending up at the old barber shop. Doris, his wife of fifty years, claimed he went there to gossip, but he called it fact-finding. Dirk rumbled through the rutted dirt road. Trees canopied over the road making it feel like he had drove through a green tunnel. Thirty years as Dogwood sheriff meant he knew every road in Dogwood, yet he had never noticed this road before that had him bouncing on the bench seat as he maneuvered his old truck around the deep tread tracks. Large trucks ha...

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“Zen Sam” by Theresa Fox Turner

Submitted to Contest #183

Sam sat on a plush suede couch, her legs folded beneath her and a laptop balanced on her lap. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as rain pelted against the windows of the little cabin. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and not even the loud cracks of thunder could distract her from her task. In the fireplace, only red-hot embers remained; the only light in the cabin was the laptop screen which illuminated a small circle around her.When she opened her eyes and noticed the dwindling fire, goosebumps prickled her skin, making her shiver. She consi...

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“Turkey Frustration or Love?” by Theresa Fox Turner

Submitted to Contest #173

Last year Mom wanted to change things up for Thanksgiving by cooking a prime rib rather than turkey. It seemed odd, and I remember complaining to Don, my husband, about this strange change in the menu. It felt as though turkey was a non-negotiable part of dinner because Thanksgiving was a source of turkey frustration for both my parents as far back as I can remember.Most years, we went to Grandma and Grandpa Twardowski's house for Thanksgiving dinner. Dad's job was turkey carver, but carving the turkey at our Thanksgiving wasn't the picture-...

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“Don't Stop and Smell the Flowers” by Theresa Fox Turner

Submitted to Contest #167

Juniper stood, hands on her ample hips, smiling down at a mound of loose dirt. She'd just finished poking her finger into the soft dirt one to two inches apart, dropping different flower seeds into the holes and softly spreading the dirt back over them. The dark brown soil stood out like a stain along the white brick of the house, but soon beautiful wildflowers would be poking out, decorating her front lawn.She held her dirty hands up to inhale the wet earthy smell of the dirt as the soft hum of a motor approached in the distance. She turned...

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“The Final Skyscraper” by Theresa Fox Turner

Submitted to Contest #166

I stand at the edge of a sheer drop-off, looking out over a river meandering into infinity. The water calls out to me with a promise of calmness and serenity. On the opposite shore, dogs rush back and forth, excited to meet a new friend. A house with a wrap-around porch, large windows, and a bright yellow door hints at the warmth and comfort I will find inside.Although paradise beckons me, fear and vertigo take over when I look down at the river far below. Do I have the courage to make the jump? Could I survive? Although the water rises...

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“Family Dinner” by Theresa Fox Turner

Submitted to Contest #162

"Hey, Mom! What's for dinner?" Beatrice kicked off her shoes, pulled off her backpack, and tossed them towards a corner of the mudroom. She padded through their family room into the kitchen."Mom? I'm home. School was so…" Her words trailed off as she walked into an empty kitchen. Usually, her mother, Sunny, would be there at the large island prepping dinner, or standing at the stove stirring pots that bubbled or sizzled.Beatrice never knew what to expect with her mother's adventurous palate and endless online recipe scrolling. Today the stov...

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“Hinges of Destiny ” by Theresa Fox Turner

Submitted to Contest #152

“Choices are the hinges of destiny.” PythagorasThis is a story of two women, one my mother, Cathy, and one whose name is unknown, so I will call her Mary. Dr. Rosner played a significant role in both of these women’s lives. Cathy’s story is true; however, Mary’s story is mostly speculation.1975 - Not long after she and Bill decided they were ready to become parents, Cathy felt the changes in her body. Cathy wrote in her journal, “Today is the first confirmed day. About two hours ago the doctor informed me that I’m pregnant.”1971 - A wom...

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“Givers and Takers” by Theresa Fox Turner

Submitted to Contest #150

"Please, don't do it," my last Giver said in her tiny, little voice. She did not plead; instead, she said it with resignation. It was as if part of her would not give up even though no other options were available. A Taker, me, loomed over her, shaking with the cravings I could no longer keep at bay. What luck for me that her lousy luck brought her here. The little ones brought me closer to that which I sought; the little ones, usually so carefully guarded, brought down all my defenses, giving me hope above all else that I could reach beyond...

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“This Time Will Be Different” by Theresa Fox Turner

Submitted to Contest #116

(Trigger warning: Strong language, domestic violence, sexual content)"Do not sleep in my room tonight," he said to Cassie on his way out the door to see Melissa, who he claimed was "just a friend." Before he downgraded Cassie and his relationship to what he called roommates, his room was her room. He was her first relationship and her first love; she dropped out of college to move in with him. Most nights, he wanted Cassie in his room, and, of course, she obliged. This proves he still loves me. This time will be different.A couple times...

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“The Shadow of Gong” by Theresa Fox Turner

Submitted to Contest #114

DONG! DONG! DONG! The echo of the gong violated every crevice and corner of the auditorium. The vibration was a parasite clinging and shaking every organ in Anabel's body.  "Mauricio!" yelled Anabel. "Stop!" DONG! DONG! DONG! Mauricio grinned, showing off his dimples and pearly whites as he banged the mallet. His buddies egged him on, hands over their ears.  "Please stop," she grunted as she attempted to pull the mallet from him. Mauricio let go, and Anabel flew backward, landing hard on her butt, sliding across the stage. Th...

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“The Great Bra Incident of 1988” by Theresa Fox Turner

Submitted to Contest #102

The Great Bra Incident of 1988My face still flushes with heat, and bubbles of "not good enough" pop in my belly when I think back to the time my eagerness to grow up was so much larger than my boobs. In 1988, bullies came at you head-on rather than hiding behind a computer screen. I'm sure other incidents molded me into a teen. Still, after the Great Bra Incident, I was always careful to never be the "first" to do something. The only laughter I encouraged happened when I set the rules and made fun of myself. That was easier than letting othe...

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