Another Thanksgiving has come and gone.The turkeys paid a heavy toll. Tululu has once more eluded the hunters, but decides enough is enough.
It is time for the turkeys to rise up and cast off the shackles of their oppressors. This ends now!
In 250 words or less, tell us a story incorporating the elements in the picture. The 250 word limit will be strictly enforced.
Please keep language and subject matter to a PG-13 level.
Use the comment section below to submit your entry. Entries will be accepted until 5:00 PM Pacific Daylight Time on Tuesday, November 27th, 2012.
On Wednesday morning, we will open voting to the public with an online poll for the best writing entry accompanying the photo. Voting will be open until 5:00 PM Thursday.
On Friday morning, the winner will be recognized as we post the winning entry along with the picture as a feature. Best of luck to you all in your writing!
Entries only in the comment section. Other comments will be deleted.
Tululu cautiously peeked over the weeds. Thanksgiving, late afternoon, time to regroup the flock. She took a head count. Big Tom and the boys, taken in the prime of their gobblerhood. The youngest males were left, frightened, and uncertain of their future. The domestic turkeys they had freed had fallen, their white feathers a dead give away to the hunters. The ones who cowered behind, trucked away to become dinner for the human oppressors.
“This ends now.” Tululu nodded toward a manikin lying beside the road, fallen from a moving van. “Here’s the plan, flock. Rush hour traffic begins shortly. A few of us may fall, but it’s for the cause.”
As the cars whizzed by the turkeys descended on the manikin, pecking and tearing. News crews arrived within minutes and began filming.
Breaking News: Turkeys Eat Traffic Victim
Sirens sounded in the distance. As one, the wild turkeys each grabbed part of the manikin and flew off with it, while women screamed and cameras whirred.
The police found the manikin the next morning. The damage was done, asTululu planned. Turkey was taboo. Tofu turkeys reigned supreme next Thanksgiving and thereafter.
Tululu pushed through the undergrowth. Ahead lay the road. Beyond that, bright lights from suburban dwellings twinkled. Inside each of those, she would find the enemy. Once she was across it, she would make those humans pay, once and for all.
She’d been trained for this moment. Her skills had developed faster than all the others at the training camp. She displayed cunning and stealth. Most of all, she was courageous.
This mission had taken months of preparation in secret locations. Each turkey held a black belt in Tai Kwon Do. She had risen through the ranks rapidly and was now the leader of this fine group of young turkeys. She was the Turkey Supreme.
Behind her was her brave troop. They hated the enemy too. They had lost relatives and loved ones.
She arrived at the road. It seemed vast in comparison to her size. It was much bigger than she had understood it to be. She would have to do this alone. “Cover me. I’m going across,” she gobbled to her second in command.
She raced off at high speed, head bobbing side to side. Just as she was almost across, she was struck by an articulated lorry, and was sent spinning into the air. She landed in a front garden, dead on impact.
The second in command reported back to the officials.
“Why did Tululu the turkey cross the road?” General Turkey asked.
“To prove she wasn’t a chicken,” replied the second in command.
I snuck through the underbrush, quiet as a dormouse. “Can you see him, Paw?” I whispered.
“Right through the bush there. Here, let me push the branches aside. You got him in your sights?”
“Got him, Paw. Darn, he’s good and camouflaged, ain’t he?”
“All turkeys blend into the scrub. If it weren’t for that red gobble on his neck, and the gobble gobble coming out of his mouth, we’d never find him. Now hush your mouth, and aim true. Steady hand, boy.”
“Ready, Paw.”
“Brace yourself for the recoil. Squeeze the trigger slow and easy.”
The blast of the gun echoed off the tall trees in the woods and left my ears ringing.
“Did I get him?”
Paw let out a whoop. “Nice shot, boy! You’re a marksman.”
I followed Paw through the brush, heading for the bird.
Paw held his hand up and I high-fived him. I bent over the turkey. “Now don’t fret Tululu.”
Paw gathered Tululu in his arms, careful not to release the net I’d shot over him.
I patted Tululu’s wing. “We’ll let you go in the yard.”
A shot rang out a few hundred yards away.
“Good thing we found him when we did,” Paw said. “Those damn hunters would’ve had him for dinner for sure.” Paw took my hand. “Let’s take him home, boy.”