Timothy James Turnipseed
Bio
Timothy was raised on a farm in rural Mississippi. His experiences have since taken him all around the world. He now teaches at local university, where he urges his Students to Run the Race, Keep the faith, and Endure to the End
Stories (27)
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Old Sammy's Island
“Gurk!” How he despised that wretched sound. Lying abed in the dark next to his loudly snoring wife, he’d discovered the one sound he just couldn’t get used to. The lapping waves, the splashing… fish? Alligators? Even the relentless chorus of crickets and frogs he’d learned to endure.
By Timothy James Turnipseed4 years ago in Fiction
The Kabul I Knew
Thomas Wolfe said, “You Can’t Go Home Again”. Most of us are biased toward happy memories, because unhappy ones make us sad, and who wants to be sad? But things change, including you, so any place you remember after an extended absence simply cannot be the same place when you return thereunto. Thus, you can’t go home again. And me, I can’t go to Kabul again. Yes, that Kabul. Afghanistan.
By Timothy James Turnipseed4 years ago in Confessions
Before She Takes
“They’re hunting us.” The man spoke into a little fire crackling in a shallow hole circled by crumbling old bricks. The flames barely illuminated the cavernous interior of an old barn, timbers groaning in the gusts of a storm raging just beyond the clattering walls. Part of the loft had collapsed into ground level, still laden with the heaps of snow that had overburdened it. As flames danced in the black gloom, they also revealed three who sat around the fire in a corner stall.
By Timothy James Turnipseed4 years ago in Fiction
Before She Saves
“They’re going to kill us.” The woman speaking stood in a short corridor lit by gray sun shining in from windows to her left. Before her was a wooden door, and to her right was a log cabin wall. Behind her was a door slathered with gold paint. A large Peace symbol composed from many pieces of brightly colored glass was glued to that door.
By Timothy James Turnipseed4 years ago in Fiction
Before She Kidnaps
“I got your gun! Now I give the orders!” Both the woman and the much larger man stood in a darkened, windowless room, lit only by wan firelight flickering in from some unseen exterior source. It was chilly, but not near as deathly cold as outside; a fact to which the female could well attest.
By Timothy James Turnipseed4 years ago in Fiction
Before She Joins
“I’m not going to make it, am I?” Her words billowed into the frosty air like smoke, as if there were a fire in her belly. She could feel the beanie down to her ears, and the heavy, vintage leather aviator jacket that was way too big for her. The soft acrylic of the beanie and the jacket’s fluffy sheep fur lining were keeping her alive, if not comfortable. The knees of her faded jeans were holed by wear, not fashion. Sadly, she wore no gloves, and naught on her feet but sneakers.
By Timothy James Turnipseed4 years ago in Fiction
