Turkey Trot

In today's story, Turkey Trot, Max learns about a family tradition.

Today's prompt was inspired by Thanksgiving, a holiday that often involves eating turkey, putting out turkey-themed decorations, and running races with fun names like turkey trot or gobble wobble. 

If you enjoy today's story, please share it with your friends and leave a review for Freely Written. You can also send me  a prompt suggestion, and I'll be sure to credit you in the episode. Thank you!

More about Susan Quilty

Susan Quilty mainly writes novels, including two standalone novels and her current YA series: The Psychic Traveler Society.  Susan's short stories for Freely Written are created during quick writing breaks and shared as a way to practice her narration skills before she dives into recording audio versions of her novels.

Website:  SusanQuilty.com
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The Freely Written Book: Freely Written Vol. 1
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Transcript

Below is the transcript for Season 1, Episode 129 of Freely Written, a podcast by author Susan Quilty:

Welcome to Freely Written where a simple prompt leads to a little unplanned fiction.  

[Light piano music]

Hi, friends! I’m Susan Quilty and today’s prompt is Turkey Trot.

This week, I am getting ready for Thanksgiving. For those listening outside of the United States, Thanksgiving is the one where we eat a lot of food with family and friends. There’s some white-washed history behind that, too, putting a happy spin on the pilgrims and Native Americans in the so-called New World, but let’s not pull at that thread. 

Thanksgiving is also known as the holiday where we eat turkey, but my family hasn’t had a turkey in years, and I know many other people who also dislike turkey. So… another part of the holiday that doesn’t ring true for me. I do share a big meal with family and friends though, so that’s nice. 

Today’s story is holiday themed and written with my usual Freely Written process, where I sit down with a prompt and write whatever comes to mind, with no planning and very little editing. Then, I record the story and share it with you. 

If you’d like to read my novels—which are carefully planned and edited—you can learn about them at my website: SusanQulity.com. Or look up “Susan Quilty” wherever you buy books. There are also links in the show notes. 

Now, on to today’s story:

Turkey Trot

The turkey was in the oven and Carrie was peeling potatoes when Max came into the kitchen carrying a toy truck in each hand. 

“Can I pet your hair?”

Carrie, being used to her child’s odd requests, kept peeling as she said, “Not right now, hon.”

“Later?” Max asked. 

“Maybe later,” Carrie answered, sounding a bit more wary. 

“Sarah says I can’t,” Max announced with a pout.

“Can’t what?” Carrie asked absently while setting aside a potato to check her to-do list against the time. 

“Can’t pet people’s hair,” Max explained, clearly aggrieved. 

Carrie studied his frowning face as she let his words catch up to her busy mind. 

“Pet people’s hair? Why would you pet people’s hair?”

“We pet dogs and cats,” Max answered with his arms flung wide. “Why not people’s hair?”

“Oh, well, Sarah’s right on this one, kid.” Carrie applied her peeler to a fresh potato as she tried to explain. “People don’t like to be pet the way dogs and cats do. Especially big sisters who don’t want their hair messed up.”

“I want to be pet like a dog!” Max rushed to her side and bumped against her leg, causing Carrie to mutter some unpleasant words and she narrowly avoided slicing the peeler across her thumb.

“Not while I’m cooking, please,” she told Max through clenched teeth, and he pulled away whimpering like a dog. 

“You have very soft hair,” Max told her earnestly. “Softer than Nana’s labradoodoo.” 

Carrie took a deep breath before saying, “Thanks, and it’s labradoodle.”

“Labradoodoo,” Max repeated with a giggle. He then straightened up and asked, “Can I tell Sarah she was right? About not petting people?”

“Sure,” Carrie agreed, then reconsidered when Max whooped with joy. “Wait! Is Sarah in her room? With the door closed?”

Max stopped at the kitchen doorway and rotated one toe against the tile floor. “Maybe.”

“Then leave her alone,” Carrie told him. “Door closed means she needs privacy.”

Max scowled, leaned against the wall, and slowly slid to the floor. He pushed his trucks toward the far wall and crossed his arms in protest. 

The kitchen was quiet except for the soft shush-shush of skins being peeled from the potatoes. 

A loud voice suddenly called out from the kitchen’s doorway. “What’s with the long face, pal?”

“Grampa Terry!” Max scrambled to his feet and hurried over to be swept up in hug. “You’re awake!”

Carrie smiled at her dad, asking how he had slept and offering him coffee. “Where’s Mom?”

“She’s getting ready to go with Sarah and Joe to the Turkey Trot.”

“Why’s it called a Turkey Trot?” Max asked after being set down on his own two feet. 

“It’s a race,” Carrie told him for the umpteenth time. “A fun run.”

“I know that!” Max complained. “But why a Turkey Trot? Do you chase a turkey?”    

Terry sat at the kitchen table and patted his lap, inviting Max to sit for a story. 

“Well, there aren’t any turkeys running today, but when I was little, my grandpa told me about the turkey races in his town.”

“Really?” Max settled onto Terry’s lap as Carrie smiled and turned to check on the simmering cranberry sauce.

“Oh, yeah,” Terry continued. “They’d build this oval track right in the town square and the best turkeys from every farm came to run in the race. The fastest turkey got to pardoned by the mayor, while the slowest turkey—” 

“Dad!” Carrie warned sharply. 

Terry looked down at Max’s wide eyes and said, “Well, the slowest turkey was a guest at the town’s big Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Really?” Max asked again, this time turning to his mom who smiled and shrugged agreement. 

“Well, the oval track had a fence all around it. One year, the gate on the fence wasn’t properly latched when the race began. So, one of the turkeys pushed the gate open and took off running past the crowd!”

Max laughed as Terry made his hand scurry across the table as if it was a turkey running by. 

“And then the other turkeys followed!” Terry’s other hand scurried after the first and Max wiggled his fingers as if running behind. 

“And all the people started running after the turkeys!” 

Max wiggled off Terry’s lap to stand on the adjacent chair where he pumped his arms by his sides, pretending to run in place. 

“Careful!” Carrie called over and Terry hovered an arm behind Max, ready to catch if needed. 

“The townspeople ran and ran,” he told Max, “but the turkeys were faster!” 

“And they all ran away?” Max stopped his pretend running to look at Terry hopefully. 

“And they all ran away,” Terry agreed. “They ran into the woods and far away. But the people didn’t mind because they’d had so much fun running. They fell on the grass and laughed and laughed. So, next year, instead of having turkeys race, the people planned a race where they could run all around town, laughing and having fun. And they called it a Turkey Trot.”

“Wow,” Max said before reaching to stroke the thin hair at the top of Terry’s head. “Your hair is soft, Grampa. Almost as soft as a labradoodoo.”

“Why, thank you,” Terry said gallantly, followed by a slight bow of his head.

“Grampa,” Max began thoughtfully. “Is that a real true story?”

“It’s the real true story my grandpa told me,” Terry said, ruffling Max’s hair as Max barked like a dog. 

“Can we go watch the Turkey Trot?” Max asked after climbing down from his chair to run in circles around the small kitchen. 

“We sure can,” Terry told him. “Let’s go to the Turkey Trot!”

“To the Turkey Trot!” Max yelled as he ran to put on his shoes. 

Carrie set down her potato peeler as Terry walked over to sniff the cranberry sauce appreciatively. “Mmm, smells good.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Carrie said with a soft smile. Their eyes met and Terry smiled, too, happy to spend the day with his family. 

The End 

Thanks for listening, and Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate! 

If you enjoyed this story, please check out the stories from my past episodes—there are a lot, and you can listen to them in any order. You can share your favorite stories with your friends, and don’t forget to explore my books and other projects at: SusanQuilty.com. 

Until next time, try a little free writing of your own. Let go of any planning and see where your imagination takes you. 

[Light piano music]