“As the South Turn… Turns… Episode 17”

“Once upon a time, beneath the luminous summer sun of Slitherville Tennessee, the annual Horse Show was in full swing, pulling gamblers, equestrian enthusiasts, and curious townsfolk together from all corners of the state. This year’s atmosphere bubbled with chatter and laughter, but amid the joyous equine festivities lurked a scandal in the making.
Howard Anderton, the notorious publisher of the Tennessee Walking Horse Journal, staggered through the crowd, the light from the gold-tinted tents hazy and blurred. He held a plastic cup filled to the brim with cheap whiskey, gracefully slurring through the clamor. Howard had never been well-loved; his relentless scrutiny of competitors and biting commentary on horse shows seemed to make enemies faster than he could make friends. Yet, here he was with a ragtag group of friends trying to forget their sorrows in the glory of hooves and cheers.
At his side was Thelma London, a vivacious girl with roots in Kentucky that reached as deep as the bluegrass itself. With her striking auburn hair and a laugh that echoed louder than the announcer’s voice, Thelma demanded attention, whether she sought it or not. On this day, she was Howard’s happy distraction from the ambivalence of his career and a delightful spectacle for the onlookers.
Riddled with brilliance and great cologne was handsome Grady Biggers, Howard’s stiff-stanced competitor from Burnt Groceries, Alabama. It was Grady who had tossed that dreadful label upon Thelma, calling her a whore in front of a gathering crowd while boasting of his popular web publishing site, way more popular than the pitaful Journal. Howard, fueled partially by betrayal and whiskey, couldn’t let it go. His mind churned, a wave of smoke fanning his fiery indignation.
“Why don’t you sue the bastard?” he suggested lazily, a hint of mischief dancing behind his bleary eyes as he leaned toward Thelma, nudging her with his elbow.
That single joke spiraled into a whirlwind of chaotic decisions. With Howard buzzing around Thelma like a relentless fly, egging her on as if it were a competition to get back at Grady, she set off to consult with the town’s most flamboyant attorney, Jimmy Snorton.
Jimmy was an eccentric figure; with his flamboyant suits and an even more flamboyant attitude, he carried the courtroom like a stage for his one-man show. However, unbeknownst to them all, he had his own skeletons lurking in the musty corners of the court—and on the infamous whore hopper list, no less.
With grand ambitions and a rare opportunity to spit fire at Grady, Thelma engaged Jimmy to pursue a lawsuit for two million dollars. It was a glorious idea, a spectacle that must’ve been painted by a surrealist artist in a fever dream. Whispers began to swirl through the grassy knolls of River Bend as the news spread like wildfire—the spunky Thelma was fighting back.
But the plot thickened. Amid the preparation for the legal showdown, Snorton received a summons himself. The rumor mill churned, revealing his own name on the very list they were all betting against, casting a long shadow over their pretentious crusade. With bated breath and red cheeks blossoming like summer roses, he had to appear in court—and suddenly, the suit began to resemble that of a circus act gone horribly awry.
At their first court appearance, the air was thick with anticipation. Shimmering lights of cameras and murmurs of the chatter filled the air as they gathered. But just as Thelma stood confidently, daggers in her eyes directed at Grady, Snorton’s face turned as pale as a ghost. When he took the stand and as the judge called for order, it became evident that the case wasn’t as finely woven as they had imagined.
With a dismissive wave, the judge proclaimed the suit dismissed amidst chuckles and snickers that ricocheted off the stained wooden walls of the small-town courthouse. Thelma’s head twisted quickly toward Howard, who was now an ashen shade of embarrassment. Grady simply smiled, scoffing at the disproved accusation as he savored the taste of victory.
The spectacle did one thing: It washed away any inkling of credence for Howard’s publication. The six-foot-tall publisher cursed under his breath, battling the demons of his own making. All these years, he had been a solitary ship battling the tides of animosity, and as he sulked out of that courthouse, he knew he had sunk his own vessel.
With a clinking of glasses and the taste of cheap whiskey still lingering on his tongue, Howard officially washed his hands clean of sponsors, friends, and that lawsuit. He turned to Thelma, the wilful girl who sought vengeance and justice. “Well,” he exclaimed with a resigned laugh, “at least we can


“As The South Turn… Turns” Episode 12

As we return…air in Slitherville, Tennessee, was thick with excitement as preparations for the annual Riverbend Invitational Horse Show unfolded. Glittering banners decorated the entrance to the grounds, and the distant sound of hooves meant the thrill of competition was just around the corner. However, for Jefferson Anderton, the son of Howard Anderton, esteemed publisher of the *Tennessee Walking Horse Journal*, the event had turned into an opportunity for manipulation.
Jefferson strode through the bustling grounds with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. His slicked-back hair caught the sunlight, and his tailored suit mirrored the swagger he possessed—if only his intellect matched his appearance. He was notorious in the show community not just for being Howard Anderton’s son but for being insufferably conniving.
“Let’s make this horse show great,” he mused, glancing at the judges’ table, a vision of friends hand-picked for their pats on his back and favoritism in their hearts. After all, nepotism was practically coded into his DNA. As he plotted, selecting names from his phone, the ground felt like it might buckle beneath the weight of his audacity.
Amidst the rustling papers and gleaming trophies, Ricky Infield, a dedicated member of the show board, noticed Jefferson’s behavior with growing unease. Ricky, known for his straightforward nature and commitment to fairness, was the polar opposite of Jefferson. While Jefferson saw potential in bending the rules, Ricky held the ideal of honor and integrity in high esteem.
The confrontation came swiftly as Ricky approached Jefferson. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, his voice steady but laced with an edge of warning. “You can’t just handpick judges. This show is about the horses and the talent, not your ego.”
Jefferson, taken aback but fueled by indignation, laughed derisively. “Oh, come on, Ricky! My friends will give me the best ratings. Everyone knows that—except, apparently, you!” His voice dripped sarcasm, and the crowd began to take notice as the tension escalated.
Ricky stepped closer, clenching his fists. “This isn’t how we do things here. You’re jeopardizing the integrity of the event for your petty games. You might think you can bully your way through this, but I won’t allow it.”
A crowd began to gather, the whispers twisting around them like tendrils of smoke. Jefferson felt his anger boil. “You’re such a mother fucker! You think you can tell me what to do? I’m Jefferson Anderton!” He spat the last words as if they were venom, his true character unfurling in the light of confrontation.
Ricky clenched his jaw, refusing to back down. “And that gives you the right to ruin everything? It doesn’t matter who your father is. There are rules that we all abide by, and you’re too foolish to see that.”
The two men stood toe to toe, the sound of thundering hooves and excited murmurs fading into a distant murmur. The standoff went beyond mere words; it was a clash of values, the commitment to authenticity versus the allure of manipulation.
Eventually, the board chairman, sensing the brewing storm, stepped in before tempers escalated further. “Gentlemen, this is a horse show, not a playground for egos. We uphold the integrity of this event above all else, Jefferson. Your input is appreciated, but we will not compromise the ethics of our judging panel.”
Drawn from his daze of outrage, Jefferson bit back another heated comment, knowing he had lost this battle. The murmurs from the crowd surrounding were judgmental and sharp, branding him as the villain in the narrative of the day.
As Jefferson retreated, a simmering resentment brewed within him, fueled by clear humiliation. The Riverbend Invitational would go on without his meddling, honoring the horses and true talent, while Jefferson found himself trapped within the confines of his own arrogance.
Leaving the grounds, he muttered darkly under his breath, “I’ll be back, and when I do….” but his voice trailed off, likely into the ether of his own delusions. For now, Ricky Infield had secured the sanity of the horse show, but in the back of his mind, he knew that Jefferson Anderton wouldn’t give up that easily.


“As The South Turn… Turns” Episode 11

In the heart of  Slitherville, Tennessee, amid the rolling hills and bustling backroads, Evil Publisher Howard Anderton ruled with an iron fist. His grip tightened around the Tennessee Walking Horse Journal, which he transformed into a platform for his machinations. With his money and influence, he effortlessly bribed judges and silenced dissenters, making the Riverbend Invitational Horse Show not just an event but a showcase of his power.
Howard wasn’t just notorious in the horse community; he was a cunning puppeteer, adept at pulling the strings of those around him. He could charm any woman he desired, flaunting his wealth and charisma with the flair of a seasoned con artist. That was until he met her—Memphis Berkley.
Memphis was no ordinary woman. A stunning California actress, Memphis had an ethereal beauty that seemed to rise up from the golden sands of Hollywood. Yet, in her last chapter, she had traded fame for a different kind of love, finding refuge in the arms of Dereck Miles, a ruggedly handsome bricklayer. Although stunningly charismatic in his own way, Dereck was worlds apart from the glitz of Howard’s life; he was grounded, real—a devoted father to three daughters: Dawn, Dove, and Millie.
Howard’s obsession with Memphis bordered on madness. He would attend the Riverbend Invitational, not just to oversee his empire but to watch her—every stride she took, every laugh that spilled with the magnolia-scented summer air, it tormented him. She radiated poise with a grace that was both intoxicating and infuriating. Howard didn’t like being denied, and Memphis was the one prize he could not possess.
While Howard operated under the guise of a powerful businessman, something deep inside him cracked. He began plotting, convinced he could lure her away from her simple life and back into the chaotic limelight she once embraced. He would send lavish gifts, flowers with notes filled with poetry, and even offer her a chance to showcase her talents at the Invitational. Every overture was met with warm indifference; Memphis regarded him as nothing more than an amusing character in the tapestry of horse shows.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, but Memphis remained steadfast at Dereck’s side. Howard couldn’t fathom it. How could she choose a bricklayer over a man of his stature? He watched as Dereck participated in local charity events, engaging with the townsfolk and winning the hearts of his daughters—a proud father who never sought the limelight but somehow became the star in their eyes.
This furious rivalry between them grew, and Howard found himself slipping deeper into morose thoughts. His well-crafted plans seemed to crumble at his fingertips. One evening at an exclusive gala, Howard gathered his remaining resolve and confronted her.
“Memphis,” he declared, a familiar glint of arrogance flashing in his dark eyes, “you belong in the spotlight, not in a picket-fenced suburb. With me, you’ll have everything—the world at your feet.”
She looked at him, unblinking, her eyes calm pools brimming with determination. “Howard, you don’t understand. I’ve had the world at my feet, and it was lonely. With Dereck, I find warmth and love—a life untainted by manipulation.”
The dismissal cut deeper than he’d expected. With each passing day, he grew more desperate, more reckless, and began pushing the boundaries of his power. He schemed to create fractures in their blissful family life, attempting to pit Memphis against her husband, whispering rumors and offering temptations. But the iron bond of love fused by the shared laughter of Dawn, Dove, and Millie proved unbreakable.
Flustered and furious, Howard realized he had underestimated what truly drove her. Memphis was content with what she had, more than he could offer with all his wealth or power. In a moment of vulnerability, he allowed bitterness to consume him entirely, wrestling with a thought: if he could not possess her, then he would ensure she never had the joy of their family go untouched.
And so, the Riverbend Invitational became not just a rivalry among horse show enthusiasts but a battleground for the souls entwined in its shadows. Yet, through it all, somber yet resolute, Memphis stood as the enigmatic figure cloaked in light, an oasis of love amidst Howard’s raging storm and broken vanity.
In the end, as Nocturne’s eclipse swept across the sky, Sirius shone bright against Howard’s darkness, illuminating the truth of his actions. For true love, genuine and unwavering, was a force Howard could never conquer. It rendered his evil schemes futile in the face of unyielding devotion—a fact he’d grapple with through the long lonely nights that followed.


“As The South Turn… Turns” Episode 10

In the quaint town of Woodbury, Tennessee, far removed from the hustle of city life, there existed a peculiar little establishment known as Higgins Heights Mental Hospital. It was a place where the eccentric and baffling gathered, a sanctuary for those whose obsessions danced wildly on the fringes of normalcy. Among those inhabitants was Howard Anderton, a notorious publisher revered for his literary acumen and reviled for his outrageous appetites.
Howard was a man of peculiar proclivities, a truth that manifested in ways that could make even the most open-minded gasp. His was not an ordinary craving but one shaped by the sugary allure of delectable pastries. Specifically, he had developed a sensual infatuation with the famous donuts from the Riverbend Invitational Horse Show in nearby Slitherville. But these were no ordinary donuts; they were fluffy, decadent crescent rings glistening with a viscous glaze that seemed to taunt him with their sugary embrace.
In the shadow of the tents and the clamor of hooves, Howard discovered an electric thrill that coursed through him beneath the awning of the showgrounds. It began innocently enough—a handful of friends chuckling over sweet fried rings—but soon morphed into something altogether more bizarre and clandestine. Howard devised a scheme; he would pay the lesbian gate guards a handsome fee to toss the donuts directly at him, aiming for his very manhood. It was a risky game, but to him, the thrill lay in the danger of possibility and the delicious aftermath of sugar and chaos.
However, the clandestine carnival of confectionery desire was short-lived. It was on a particularly windy afternoon that Howard’s escapades were brought to a screeching halt. As the guards giggled and complied with his absurd requests, a sole TBI officer stationed at the perimeter of the event, Tim Kerkles, took notice. A seasoned cop with an eye for the strange, Tim had seen his fair share of oddities, yet the scene before him was something entirely new.
Tension flickered in the air as Howard stood, pants slightly askew, a donut in hand like a trophy, basking in the raucous laughter of onlookers. But before Howard could turn the sugary projectile into the launch of a tantalizing escapade, Tim leapt into action. His voice boomed over the laughter, cutting through the delight like a knife through dough—“Sir! You’re under arrest for public indecency!”
Shock and awe rippled through the crowd as Howard found himself whisked away, the laughter transformed into whispers of disbelief. Tim dragged him past the flailing arms of shocked onlookers and towards the jurisdiction of the TBI. That night, as Howard sat in a sterile cell, the gravity of his donut-fueled antics settled heavily around him, and the taste of sugar turned bitter on his tongue.
The courts deemed him unfit for traditional punishment, deeming his behavior symptomatic of a greater affliction. Thus, his journey led him to Higgins Heights Mental Hospital, a place that promised rehabilitation—though perhaps not of the kind he had expected.
Within the confines of the hospital, Howard encountered a kaleidoscope of vivid personalities. From artists forging masterpieces from their madness to philosophers pondering the essence of reality through puzzling lens, Howard quickly found camaraderie among the disenchanted. They swapped tales of passion and peculiarities, each more bizarre than the last. Inspired by their narratives, Howard began writing—a memoir of sorts, documenting the tangled web of craving that had landed him in this peculiar abode.
As the weeks turned into months, Howard learned to embrace his bizarre history rather than hide from it. With the help of a compassionate therapist, he delved into the psychology behind his fetish, understanding that the thrill he sought was rooted in a deeper yearning for acceptance and joy. In time, Howard penned a book that transcended the sheer absurdity of his tale, weaving into it human connection, vulnerability, and the intoxicating allure of desire in all its forms.
In the end, the infamous donut thrower of Slitherville transformed from a figure of ridicule to one of inspiration, sharing his journey with the world. Far more than a simple story about a peculiar food fetish, it became a celebration of the beautifully chaotic tapestry of human experience—a reminder that even the most absurd obsessions can lead to profound revelations.


“As The South Turn… Turns” Episode 9

The sun dipped low in the Tennessee sky, casting elongated shadows across the lush fields of the Riverbend Invitational Horse Show. The air was heavy with the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant whinnies of horses echoed like whispers of secrets long buried. Clara Anderton sat on a weathered bench, her silver hair glinting in the golden light. At seventy-five, she was the portrait of elegance, but there was a storm brewing within her.

For decades, she had played the role of the perfect wife to Howard Anderton, the notorious publisher of the Tennessee Walking Horse Journal, whose scathing critiques and unwavering favors shaped the very essence of the horse racing community. To the outside world, Clara was the dutiful partner, smiling at the right moments, attending lavish events, and enduring Howard’s frequent tirades about the state of equestrian affairs. But as her heart raced, it was not Howard’s name that reverberated in her mind, but that of Slim Stokes—her long-time secret lover.

Slim, an Adonis with raven hair that defied gravity in the sunlight, had walked into her life like a pinto horse bursting forth from the gates, his charms as wild and intoxicating as the midnight gallops they shared under a crescent moon. He was more than just a horse trainer; he was an escape from the gilded cage Howard had built around her. Their stolen moments away from prying eyes were electric—passionate meetings in sun-drenched pastures, whispered fantasies amid the thundering hooves, and secrets exchanged over chilled glasses of iced tea that never quite contained the truth.

But her heart bore the weight of guilt, especially knowing Slim had another—Marbella Burger, the audacious heiress of the Beaten Burger restaurant empire. Slim juggled the affections of both women, igniting fires of jealousy that threatened to engulf him. Marbella was everything Clara was not—young, proud, and ready to claim her territory. Clara knew Slim didn’t love her as fiercely as he loved the excitement of chasing after both women, and that realization twisted like a knife in her chest.

The night Clara made her confession to Howard marked a turning point in her life. The din of clinking glasses and laughter from their neighbors faded into the background as she steeled herself. Seated at the fine oak dining table, the candlelight flickered ominously like her heartbeat. “Howard,” she breathed, the weight of the words clinging to her tongue. “I’ve had an affair… with Slim.”

Howard’s eyes narrowed, a predator caught in the headlights, but there was no rage in his voice, only a cold, calculated poise. “I see,” he replied, the twisted smile creeping onto his lips. To Clara’s shock, instead of exploding into a fit of fury, he delivered a proposal that took her breath away—he offered Slim a judgeship at the Riverbend Invitational as hush money, a way to cover up the scandal, not for their marriage but for his own reputation in the community.

Clara’s heart sank. She could almost hear the wheels of his mind turning—Howard was always the master puppeteer. She hated the idea of Slim sharing a stage with Marbella, kept at a distance but also enshrined in the arena’s limelight in a way that would keep the memory of their affair alive, binding them all in a secretive web of lies.

As the Riverbend Invitational approached, Clara’s mind spiraled. She watched Slim parade around the show ring, his presence magnetic, bending the world around him with effortless charm. Marbella, in her designer clothes, stood close, her bright smile hiding the tension beneath. Clara could see the glances exchanged, a secret language laden with lust and jealousy.

Yet, as they announced Slim’s appointment, Clara felt a breath of sudden power within her—a surge of agency after years of silence. It was the public platform for which Slim had yearned, but it held a darker promise. She stepped forward, hand raised, drawing both men’s eyes upon her. “Slim,” she called, her voice echoing across the immaculate grounds, “isn’t it time you decided whom you truly love?”

That moment served as a crossroad for all three of them—Howard’s anger simmered beneath the surface as uncertainty gripped Slim and Marbella’s faces. Clara bared her soul in front of not just the audience but the untamed emotions within her. As the sun set behind the grandstands, painting the sky in hues of orange and crimson, the shadows of their past reflected upon the display of equestrian might.

“No more hiding,” she declared, her heart racing now with a newfound thrill. “I refuse to be a pawn in this game.”

Marbella’s surprise caught the wind, and in the tension of that moment, a silent truce was formed. Clara’s confession might have been the catalyst



“As The South Turn…Turns” Episode 8

As we return to the heart of Tennessee, where the rolling hills cradled the dreams and passions of horse trainers, there lived a man whose ambitions ran as dark as the obsidian-studded sky. We return and there remains Howard Anderton, publisher of the Tennessee Walking Horse Journal, was a mastermind of manipulation cloaked under the guise of benevolence. Few knew the murky depths of his plans, but those who brushed against him often felt the chill of his icy gaze.
In a calculated move designed to tighten the noose around the local trainers, Howard made a bold investment in a failing business: Worldwide Horse Tack. He knew that horse trainers were always in need of gear, and with Worldwide’s seemingly bottomless talent for racking up debt, he could easily ensnare them in a financial web.
Howard’s first act of treachery was as sinister as it was subtle. He began hiring the trainers’ wives at the Tennessee Walking Horse Journal. Under the pretense of wanting to uplift the community and support local talent, he lured them into the brightened halls of the newspaper with promises of writing opportunities and bustling careers. But beneath that façade, he sowed the seeds of dependency, burying them in the familiarity of their spouses’ businesses.
As the trainers unknowingly grew eager for their next big game, Howard granted them lavish credit lines at Worldwide Tack, promising they could pay it back after the next show. Lured by the prospect of new saddles and bridles that would give their horses an edge, they ran up tabs that spiked as quickly as their aspirations. Like puppets on a string, Howard pulled their heartstrings, rallying them to the tack store for gear they once dreamt of. But every trip was a step deeper into his trap.
“Don’t worry, fellas! We’re all in this together!” he would cheerfully declare at the local meets, feigning camaraderie as he watched their debts climb higher.
However, the tendrils of despair tightened around the trainers’ necks as Howard’s dark plan unfurled. With the weight of their debts hanging over their heads, he made it clear that he had their livelihoods firmly in his grasp. Little did they know, he was preparing a sinister move: the relocation of the Association of Trainers’ office to a decaying funeral home on the outskirts of town.
The trainers arrived at the musty building, their confusion palpable. Discarded flowers lined the entrance, their once-vibrant petals faded to dull shapes, reminiscent of their former glory. The feeling inside the funeral home was eerily quiet, save for the sounds of distant whinnying and the creaks of old wood. It became the perfect stage for Howard’s deceitful theatrics, a graveyard for their dreams.
Every whisper of hope that filled the hallways of the funeral home signaled the encroaching weight of Howard’s control. With the trainers attempting to forge their way, they never saw the final act approaching. Using the forged signatures he had carefully crafted during late nights at the newspaper, he foreclosed on the mortgaged property of the Association, driving the final nail in their proverbial coffin.
When the letters of foreclosure arrived, it was as though the very air had been sucked from their lungs. In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of their aspirations and the reverberations of defeat, they realized they had become characters in Howard’s malevolent narrative. Those once-proud trainers now faced his undisguised ambition: to dominate the world of horse training while laughing behind his desk at the newspaper, the sharp edges of his greed concealed beneath a polished surface.
Innocent dreams crushed under lies, the trainers found themselves shackled by debts of trust and anxiety. With every shuddering breath in the storied funeral home, they felt the life draining from their passion.
But as the sun began to sink behind the wooded hills, casting a long shadow over the funeral home, a flicker of resistance sparked among the trainers and their besieged wives. The deep-seated hope and love for their craft had not yet been snuffed out by Howard’s greed. They would band together and take back their dignity, push against the closures cast by his sinister machinations, and challenge his steel grip on their futures.
The chilling laughter of Howard Anderton echoed in the silence, but for the first time, it was met with whispers of defiance that rippled through the night, a promise that darkness would not extinguish their spirits. Not yet.


“As The South Turn…Turns” Episode 7

We return to the quaint town of Elmwood, where the rolling hills kissed the horizon and the sun dipped low over the Tennessee valleys, a fierce war was brewing in the realm of Tennessee Walking Horses. At the heart of this conflict was Evil Howard Anderton, a man whose dark reputation loomed larger than the stalls filled with the elegant creatures he claimed to love. As the chairman of the Riverbend Invitational Horse Show, he wielded his influence like a weapon, manipulating judges with promises that danced on the edge of legality.
Howard had built his empire on the glossy pages of the Tennessee Walking Horse Journal, his publication that claimed to celebrate the beauty of gaited horses while simultaneously serving as a platform for his nefarious dealings. But now, his empire faced a formidable foe: Robert Killabrew, a business mogul with a keen eye for opportunity and a determination to whittle down Anderton’s monopolistic reign. Partnered with the ambitious Toby Scarburg, the duo plotted to dethrone Howard, whose underhanded tactics threatened to corrupt the sacred artistry of equine competitions.
Scarburg, with his youthful charm and instincts for manipulation, knew he had to play the game smart. Beneath the veneer of politeness, the competition simmered like hot coals. With whispers of Anderton’s shady dealings echoing through the horse community, Toby set a plan in motion to expose him. But Howard was one step ahead, his experience in the world of deceit and corruption sharpening his edge.
One fateful evening, as the night wrapped itself in a blanket of darkness, Howard dialed Toby’s number knowing he could set a trap. “Toby, got a little proposition for you,” Howard’s velvety voice slithered through the receiver. “Let’s not allow the other judges to have all the fun, shall we?” He slipped an audio recording of Scarburg discussing an illicit payment to a judge—conversations seasoned with ambition and desperation. It was a carefully orchestrated rat trap, and Howard was the master puppeteer.
Toby’s stomach churned as he gathered the pieces of Howard’s performance. The tables had turned, and he was now the prey. But an idea boiled to the surface, dark and tempestuous. If Howard wanted to play dirty, Toby would play even dirtier.
With precise execution, Toby sought out Howard’s Achilles’ heel—his beloved daughter, Hynie Anderton. It was a tactic born out of sheer audacity and revenge. Hynie was a fiery spirit, unaware of the corrupt games her father played but intrigued by the handsome stranger whose charm offered a whirlwind of excitement. In a footloose dance of passion that cast aside morality, Toby seduced her, drawing the ire and fury of the very man he sought to put out of business.
As whispers of the affair began to spread like wildfire through the horse community, it wasn’t long before Howard found himself in the crosshairs of whispered scandals. The once untouchable businessman felt the tremors of a crumbling empire. With each pointed finger and hushed conversation, he realized that the very tactics he had used to manipulate others had backfired against him.
Howard’s fury was palpable; a dark storm brewed behind his steely facade. Driven by vengeance, he plotted his next move. But as paranoia draped over him like a shroud, he made a critical mistake—he underplayed the power of public perception. His spat with Toby only further galvanized the horse community against him, curious onlookers now turned advocates for Scarburg and Killabrew.
In a climactic showdown at the Riverbend Invitational, the correspondents from the Tennessee Walking Horse Journal—once Howard’s unwavering allies—now reported on his downfall with unrestrained glee. The judges he could once bend to his will stood appalled at his unscrupulous antics, rallying around the partners who brought transparency to the competition.
With every passing moment during the show, Howard’s world unraveled. He moved like a shadow, lurking at the fringes before he was ultimately shoved aside by the very empire he had sought to control. The Riverbend Invitational became a symbol of change, a place where integrity could bloom anew amongst the stables and pastures.
As nightfall blanketed nearby Slitherville, the victors stood united — Scarburg and Killabrew basking in their hard-fought glory, while Hynie watched from afar, torn between the life she knew and the awakening truths she had unearthed. And as for Howard, he was left to reflect on the choices that led him into darkness, a cautionary tale etched into the hills of Tennessee where ideals of honor and respect continued to flourish, undeterred by the ghosts of past misdeeds.


“As The South Turn…Turns” Episode 6

In the quaint town of Elmwood, nestled amidst the rolling hills of Tennessee, the Tennessee Walking Horse Journal was born. It had started as a humble dream fueled by the passion of Rita and Gerald Murphy, an elderly couple who had spent their twilight years celebrating the beauty of the beloved horses that trotted gracefully through their countryside. Every Sunday afternoon, beneath the warm glow of a kitchen light, they poured over their typewriter, crafting articles that delighted their small but devoted readership. The paper was their legacy, a heartfelt tribute to a community and a life well-lived.
But dreams can sometimes take dark turns. Enter Howard Anderton, a slick publisher with a voracious appetite for power and wealth. Under a façade of community engagement, he saw a golden opportunity in the Montgomerys’ labor of love. With the guiding hand of his unscrupulous lawyer, John T. Peppers, he deceived the couple into signing away their rights. By the time they realized their mistake—sitting at that same kitchen table, now diminished in spirit—Anderton simply smirked as he became the new owner.
Once the journal fell into his hands, Howard was relentless in his pursuit of profit. He inflated advertisement prices overnight, slashed the once-revered journalism that had made the paper special, and dedicated entire sections to fluff pieces that disguised the hard truths buried beneath his glitzy facade. With Peppers cunningly orchestrating the shady connections, they lashed onto a more lucrative venture: laundering their ill-gotten newspaper profits through a series of extravagant high-priced timeshare condos on a little-known paradise known as Koppertox Island, just off the shores of Destin, Florida.
Peppers crafted webs of legal jargon, wrapping the operations in a veneer of legitimacy, while Howard indulged in lavish vacations and parties that oozed the wealth he had taken from a community that once adored him. But as they greedily rifled through stack after stack of money, their empire of greed unwound like a spun thread.
In the dark corners of the old Murphy residence, Rita stumbled upon an old box. Covered in years of dust, it contained forgotten documents—the fragile remnants of their early days, corporate letters, agreements they had penned in ink, and notes from investors that indicated everything she and Gerald had sacrificed was still rightfully theirs. Heart pounding, she realized these documents held the key to both their glory and their potential reclamation of the paper.
Gathering her courage, Rita shared her discovery with Gerald, whose spirit had dulled with age and disappointment. But hope flickered in his weathered eyes as they plotted their next move. The Murphys knew they had to act stealthily; the last thing they needed was the wrath of an unscrupulous publisher and his money-hungry lawyer.
They enlisted the help of the locals who had supported them over the years. The townsfolk, hungry for the truth, banded together, compiling evidence, rediscovering issues of the journal from days gone by. They documented losses, refusing to forget what had been stolen from them. Each tucked-away article dripped with passion and authenticity, a testament to a community’s bond, each rallying cry louder than the last.
As the walls began to close in on Anderton and Peppers, the truth crept into the light. News spread like wildfire; the small-town folks were reclaiming their story. On the eve of what was to be a grand gala celebrating his (stolen) achievements, Howard received a visit from local journalists; a few good souls, still clinging to their principles, uncovered the hidden paths of deception. They revealed to him the mountain of evidence that Rita and Gerald had amassed, both heartbroken yet resilient, and they confronted him with the truth.
Faced with the possibility of losing everything, Howard knew he had two choices. He could fumble for excuses and let his arrogance blind him to the inevitable justice, or he could attempt to bribe his way out with the last scraps of wealth he had hoarded. Peppers, however, had grown weary of the charade. As the weight of guilt and the threatening consequences crushed him, he quickly switched sides, confessing to his misdeeds in exchange for immunity.
The courtroom where it all unraveled was packed with locals—the ones who had once picked up the paper with laughter and tears. Rita and Gerald stood at the front, voices trembling as they recounted their story, handing over the fateful documents like the weapons of truth that they were. Anderton, visibly shriveled under the spotlight, could hardly defend himself as the weight of their years fell down upon him.
When the gavel struck down, it resounded with a finality that resonated through Maplewood. The press returned to the Montgomerys—its original founders—to revitalize a legacy shrouded in pain but rebirthed in hope. And from a modest kitchen, they do know Anderton wasn’t done. He would bring more to the fight next time.


“As The South Turn…Turns” Episode 5

In the small yet vibrant town of Elwood, Tennessee, the Riverbend Horse Show was the highlight of the year, drawing horse enthusiasts from all corners of the country. Among the clamor of hooves and the crisp scent of hay, one man reigned supreme: Evil Howard Anderton, the notorious publisher of the Tennessee Walking Horse Journal and Chairman of the show. Known for his acerbic wit and disdain for those he deemed beneath him, Howard had an unsettling reputation that matched his name.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with strokes of orange and purple, the show reached its climax. Crowds flocked to the booths, savoring corndogs, funnel cakes, and the enticing aroma of fresh donuts wafting from a quaint little stand manned by a hardworking mother-daughter duo—Martha and her teenage daughter, Ellie. They had become favorites at the show, their warm smiles and perfect pastries adding sweetness to the bustling event.
Yet, unbeknownst to them, Howard had fixated on them in a most peculiar manner. He would often linger near the booth. He watched as they served customers, a twisted smile creeping upon his lips, but no one could have suspected the man’s dark intentions. He hid behind his reputation, cloaked in the guise of local aristocracy, while his actions became increasingly sinister.
On the final night of the show, after Martha and Ellie closed up their booth, they sensed a shadow trailing them, oppressive and unwelcome. Turning back, they caught a glimpse of Howard, lurking in the distance, his eyes glinting like a predator’s. Panic overtook them, and they bolted toward Elwood, their hearts racing.
Howard, fueled by a cocktail of arrogance and alcohol, revved the engine of his sleek Jaguar, pursuing them through the town like a hawk hunting its prey. The streets of Elwood, usually peaceful, transformed into a scene of chaos as the chase unfolded. The mother and daughter darted between darkened alleyways, their breaths hitching in terror. But Howard had a focus born of obsession, blinding him to the lines between right and wrong.
Just as the sound of hurried footsteps and screeching tires echoed off the brick buildings, Sheriff Dick Pedigo, a burly figure known for his justice and no-nonsense attitude, caught wind of the disturbance. He rushed out into the main street, spotting the two fleeing figures and the menacing vehicle that chased them. With a firm grip on his badge, he stepped in front of Howard’s Jaguar, blocking him with all the authority of the law.
“Pull over, Anderton!” he bellowed, seeing the wild look in Howard’s eyes, fueled by no small measure of whiskey. Caught off guard, Howard slammed the brakes, the tires screeching as they met asphalt. With a glare that would have struck lesser men down, he faced the sheriff, his breath carrying the odor of alcohol and defiance.
“I’ll have you know I’m a respected man in this town!” Howard spat, but his bravado faltered under the sheriff’s steely gaze.
“Not tonight you’re not,” Sheriff Pedigo replied, stepping closer and pulling Howard from the car, handcuffs clicking into place. The shouts of the townsfolk and the eyes of the well-heeled spectators shifted from the booth to the unfolding drama, whispers murmuring through the crowd.
While Sheriff Pedigo took Howard to the station, Martha and Ellie found solace in the safety of a local diner, sharing their ordeal with relieved tears. They feared for what he might do next, but the law seemed to have captured him, at least for the night.
Days later, tension rippled through Elwood as Howard, bolstered by his nasty attorney, John T. Peppers—a man whose reputation for shady dealings was well-known—strolled back into the courthouse as if he owned the place. The townsfolk gathered, speculating on the trial that loomed, their whispers heavy with the scent of betrayal. Rumors of jury tampering floated like autumn leaves, swirling through the air, buoyed by Howard’s connections and swift legal maneuverings.
The courtroom was tense; the mother-daughter duo sat watching with anxious hearts, awaiting justice. Each statement presented by Peppers was like an arrow aimed at their truth. Howard smirked, his hands folded behind his head, reveling in his arrogance as the jury shifted in their seats.
As the verdict descended like a guillotine, a chilling silence enveloped the room. “Not guilty,” the foreman declared, a wave of disbelief washing over the spectators. Martha’s heart sank, and Ellie clenched her mother’s hand tightly. Dark whispers about favors and threats clouded the air, and hope seemed to evaporate.
Howard left the courthouse buoyed, wrapped in a cloak of impunity and emboldened by his victory


“As the South Turn…. Turns” Episode 4

“Howard Anderton stood at the grand entrance of the Riverbend Invitational Horse Show, a master of ceremony cloaked in false warmth. The hum of excitement from the spectators enveloped him like a tailored suit, but behind his charming facade lay a dark purpose. The Tennessee Walking Horse Journal, a glossy publication that Howard controlled with an iron fist, was not just his ambition but also a tool he wielded to enforce his greedy schemes. Even shoe shiner Rufus Wright said, “ the greedy white bastard name the damn gate after himself”.
His eyes scanned the arena, seeking his nemesis, Thomas Randall, the show manager. Thomas was well-liked, a man of integrity who made the event a cherished highlight of the season. But to Howard, he was a threat—a dam in a stream of his profits. He convinced himself that Thomas was growing too wealthy off of the show, a sin he could not abide. He couldn’t have someone with such apparent integrity standing in his way, especially when the cash flow from the event could be directed into Howard’s pockets.
“For you, my friend,” Howard whispered under his breath, pulling at his neatly pressed collar as he rubbed the smooth edge of an envelope stuffed with malicious intent. Inside were the names of sponsors who learned about the missing funds from last year’s show. They would need a scapegoat, and he would deliver one with impeccable timing.
In the shadows beside him lurked John T. Peppers, Howard’s partner in crime. John, a man whose moral compass spun wildly without direction, had his own grievances against Thomas. He believed the show had forgotten its roots—the fun, the camaraderie, and the joy of horse showing, and he blamed Thomas for that trajectory. Together, they created a malignant bond over their shared desires to see Thomas toppled.
“Have you thought about how to do it?” John asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
“Of course!” Howard cackled softly, rubbing his hands together like a bond villain plotting world domination. “We need evidence—a real showstopper.”
Enter Jimmy Snorton, their criminal cohort, who had become devolved in a world of petty crimes and loud ambitions. His long history with horses gave him access to backstage insights and the working of the event. “I’ve got something,” Jimmy said, swaggering over with a crooked smile. “I heard something interesting about the show budget.”
Howard’s eyes sparkled like chips of ice. “What do you know?”
“A little birdie told me that Randall spent some of the show’s funds… on a boat!” Jimmy nearly grinned, savoring his reward for digging up dirt. “And we both know how the sponsors will take that news!”
The plan quickly took shape—Howard would leverage the article within his journal, carefully crafting accusations cloaked in ‘reality.’ The article would expose Thomas’s alleged mismanagement, weaving a narrative that presented him as a money-hungry executive only looking to line his own pockets while the horses he was meant to serve suffered in silence.
Over the next few days, Howard sat in his office surrounded by images of gleaming horses and shiny awards, preparing his story—a narrative so twisted that the truth felt like a distant memory. He hoarded details, crafted misleading headlines, and positioned himself as a righteous guardian of the noble sport of Tennessee Walking Horses.
As the show approached, tension grew. The air was thick with murmurs of discontent as whispers of the allegations began to circulate, fanned by Howard’s clandestine campaign. The day of reckoning finally arrived, with the sun painting the arena a golden hue as horses pranced beneath it.
Thomas stood at the edge of the ring with his clipboard, the embodiment of dedication. He had poured his heart into this event, never once considering the possibility of betrayal. But as the first horses stepped into competition, a hush fell over the crowd when Howard took to the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” he proclaimed, feigning a look of concern. “It has come to my attention that some funds meant for this esteemed show have gone… astray!”
Shock rippled through the audience like a lightning bolt, and Thomas felt his heart clench. People looked at him with pity, confusion weaving through the crowd like a shroud. Howard continued, painting Thomas as a greedy villain, while John and Jimmy watched with satisfied smiles.
But the skies turned unexpectedly dark. Out of nowhere, a sudden storm blew through the fairgrounds, turning the pristine dirt into a muddy mess. Horse trailers rocked, and fans instantly closed, saving them from the heavy rain. Thunder rolled like the marching of an angry army.
Calamity unfolded as the horses, startled and frightened, began to act unruly. Frank, a prized Tennessee Walking Horse, reared back, knocking Howard to the ground, while others bolted toward the storm. What had started as a moment of glory for Howard turned into chaos.
As furious rain lashed down, demands for clarity and truth emerged from the crowd, drowning out”