Call Me Les
Bio
Aspiring etymologist and hopeless addict of children's fiction.
If I can't liberally overuse adverbs and alliteration, I'm out!
Instagram @writelesplaymore
~&~
Achievements (1)
Stories (88/0)
The Horse That Mattered
Since I usually spent the first week of August moping about, when I whistled on my way to breakfast, my Aunt Fern knew something was up. I sat down at the kitchen table with a smile. She smiled back, kissed my cheek and passed me a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of orange juice.
By Call Me Les2 years ago in Fiction
A Selkie's Return to the Deep
Growing up in rural Ireland, I never knew my father. Or rather, I knew of him, but we had never met. When pressed, all my mother would say was that he was an officer in the navy, and that it was better for everyone if he stayed an ocean away. But I never felt the absence of a parent; Mamma was the kind of person who took up all the space in the room. Everyone who met her commented on her breathtaking beauty and captivating charm. I loved listening to her sing the old lullabies and ballads while she danced around our home, graceful even when doing something as simple as washing the dishes.
By Call Me Les2 years ago in Fiction
When You Say Nothing At All
Ding! It was the fifth time his phone had gone off that day, the sound intruding into his solitude like a chainsaw in a forest. She'd called earlier, but he hadn't picked up. He'd meant to put the damn thing on silent before laying down.
By Call Me Les2 years ago in Fiction
Ariadne and the Minotaur: Psychopathy Runs in Families
There are many ways to die in a labyrinth, but it is a misconception that the greatest danger is the risk of disorientation followed by starvation. Caves often contain food and water—provided you're not picky about what's on the menu. Better still, artificial labyrinths do not shape-shift; they have a set pattern, and if you know their secret, you can thread the correct course easily enough. Neither are traps, pits, accidents, nor monsters the most likely cause of death. No. Be it an artfully devised maze or naturally formed cavern—what you must respect if you want to make it out alive from the underground is distance: Every step you take into the labyrinth is one you'll have to take back out again. Lose track of your steps and you just might lose track of yourself.
By Call Me Les2 years ago in Fiction
The Fruits of Labour
The breeze blowing in from the sea chilled her skin. Slipping out of her bed, Marissa closed the shutters and draped her naked body in a soft woollen shawl. She glanced back at him: sound asleep, at peace with the prospects of sunshine and mornings, his bronze skin glowed against the white linen. She bit her lip, then turned away and headed for the garden.
By Call Me Les2 years ago in Fiction
Falling Through Thin Ice
Lena inhaled sharply. It was a lie; it had always been a lie and always would be a lie. But she didn't care! She kissed her husband back deeply. Kissing him left her breathless, and knowing this might be their last kiss for who knows how long made it all the more precious to her.
By Call Me Les2 years ago in Fiction
Humans Are Created Not Born
Sometimes you gotta be "fake to be real". A fact very few people know about me is that in 2012, at the age of 25, I gifted myself a rhinoplasty—and I felt more myself having contributed to the design of my face than anything else I've done before or since. My personal philosophy is that you only get one body, and if something about it doesn't feel like it represents who you are, and you have the ability to change it, you owe it to yourself to follow your own path and let haters be damned. And yes, kind readers, there were haters. Because despite the fact it was my body, I had a lot of shade thrown my way for doing what I wanted to do with it and a lot of criticism for being "inauthentic".
By Call Me Les2 years ago in Confessions
What Really Happened to Amelia Earhart?
"Fred!" "Fre-" the end of the word was lost as Amelia choked on blood mixed with sand. She'd bitten her tongue in the crash. There was a head wound, too, she realized because she could feel the sticky wetness dripping down her forehead.
By Call Me Les2 years ago in Fiction
Chat With Les: Anthony "Tony" Stauffer
This interview is part of a series of interviews collected for the ongoing column "Chat with Les" by Vocal Media author Call Me Les in the new Vocal Creators Chronicle. The Vocal Creators Chronicle is a free, online magazine. Les is both a columnist and a co-founder. Her column presents candid interviews with people from all backgrounds, and aims to examine the finer points in the lives of those around us, such as Tony Stauffer: veteran, father, author, LOTR superfan & chef!
By Call Me Les2 years ago in Interview