So, I started this post at Thanksgiving, but didn’t want to wait until next Thanksgiving to post it; so perhaps untimely, but here it is:
When I was six and in first grade, everyone in my class was asked to write a Thanksgiving story. It was the writing of this particular Tday tale that marked the moment I truly became a writer.
As most children do, the majority of the class wrote stories about pilgrims and feasts and family togetherness. I took a different approach. My story was called, “The Sad Turkey”. It was a simple story really. A turkey named Jake was sad. He was sad because he knew Thanksgiving was fast approaching and that he would be killed and become a part of the feast. Jake decided to take the power of his life into this own wings and walked out into the street to commit suicide. He was promptly hit by a truck and killed. The end.
I know this may seem like a grim tale coming from the mind of a six year old child, but I think it was a marker of my creative spirit and what was to become my creative passion. I became a writer the minute those words spilled out onto the page and I have always been particularly proud of “The Sad Turkey”