Turkey GIF on Gifer by Perinrad

Turkey Dance © — Part 1

Greg Prince
4 min readFeb 26, 2019


A story about a boy and a helpful troll(One small section at a Time)

Chapter 1: Under Bridges By Streams

From grassy greens he thrives,
in rabbit holes he dives.
Insects and colossal giants alike,
safe from pranks is no creature alive.

Under a bridge, by a gravely, pitted hill, next to a stream lived a troll named Guz. He stood three inches tall and was as quick as a tornado.

Guz zipped and flashed wherever he went. To the average eye, he appeared to be a tiny, swirling dust storm. His speed, agility, and dexterity made Guz an untouchable menace.

Superb qualities helped him blend in and to be camouflaged in every situation.

His skin instantly altered color and adapted to match his surroundings while running or completely still. A perfect chameleon. The process took place automatically. Guz didn’t have to think about it.

Guz’s large feet allowed his strong legs to jump him 10 feet in any direction. His many abilities aided Guz in his mischievous adventures.

Living under a tall bridge had several advantages. The bridge was tall and wide. Its structure provided ample, cool shade from the hot sun and supported the sky.

Clouds were its friend and the sun its little pet. Guz named the bridge Altus.

The bridge hummed with energy and was constantly covered with shiny, speedy, round-footed bugs. The insects Guz knew in the grass had legs but none were as smooth and quick as those zooming onto and over Altus.

For Guz, life was complete with his animal and insect friends. He loved his little box which served as a home. The grass served as his main diet and he especially liked the dark green blades.

Never venturing far from home he spent most of his time playing or eating. If you were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of Guz he would likely be chewing on a dark green blade of grass sticking out of his mouth like a toothpick.




Greg Prince

Bringing real feelings along with messages of inspiration and imagination to life. Awakening is the symptom of my infectious condition. Poetry is my condition.