Lese Dunton
Bio
Essayist, reporter, and book author. Writes about everything.
Stories (17/0)
Good Dogs and People
As a 10 year old struggling to adjust to life and a new school, I started writing an ongoing series of short stories called, “The Adventures of the Friendly Mailman.” The title was named after our actual mailman who always gave me a big smile and made me feel better.
By Lese Dunton7 months ago in Writers
Field of Dreams
A beautiful story of a man’s longing for his father’s love within the game of baseball, life, and heaven. The unseen world of memories beyond the cornfield becomes visible for those who can see. And dreams of second chances really do come true if you step up to the plate.
By Lese Dunton8 months ago in Critique
I Thought It Was Better That Dogs Don’t Talk
In my apartment lives a Bassett Hound named George. Like all dogs, he is able to communicate without using words. It's usually not too difficult to understand what he wants. His mind is primarily focused on two basic ideas: food and going out for a walk.
By Lese Duntonabout a year ago in Petlife
Sparkles in the Night
We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. You could hear the crunching sound beneath the tires and the wind swirling each snowflake into the vast dancing sky. Getting closer to the driveway, I know what my parents will do when we get out of the car. They will stretch out their arms and say, “Here we are! We made it!” Dad will put away groceries and Mom will start to build a warm fire. These are all good things but what I want to do is different. Always a little different, it seems.
By Lese Duntonabout a year ago in Fiction
On the Same Wavelength
Mostly we sit by the brook in the woods. It’s nice to stare into the beautiful water while the trees gently sway in the background. The warm air is perfect for breathing and there is plenty of comfy moss upon which to sit. We talk to each other just by thinking.
By Lese Dunton2 years ago in Petlife
- Runner-Up in Summer Camp Challenge
Hellbent for BerriesRunner-Up in Summer Camp Challenge
The only bad thing about raspberries is remembering how to spell it. Everything else about the berry is perfect. I first encountered them in my father’s garden. He loved when his children would join him there. Delving into the raspberry bushes involved standing out in the hot sun and bravely facing the dangers of buzzing bees and prickly branches.
By Lese Dunton2 years ago in Feast
Dependable Traditions
We lived in New Jersey surrounded by trees in what my father referred to as, “a curious old house.” On Christmas Eve, we had a family tradition. Actually, we had many, but my favorite one was when my father read, Twas the Night before Christmas to the family.
By Lese Dunton2 years ago in Confessions
From the Mountains to the Valley
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. They used to live in the mountains, where people could never climb. It’s way too cold up there, but dragons are always hot so they had the place to themselves. On certain nights you could hear them roar back and forth with each other, as if in heated debate. You could even see flares of fire where the mountaintops meet the sky. Big bolts of orange light making the villagers tremble. It’s reasonable to conclude the dragons were angry but that’s not what was happening at all.
By Lese Dunton2 years ago in Fiction
Love is Ageless
I like to tell people that when you were in your mid-50s, in the last few years of your life, you had a passionate relationship with a younger man who lived in your building. You said he was in his early 30s. The next time we talked you thought maybe 29. How young was this guy? I’ll never know and it doesn’t matter. He was young enough to be an impressive catch. I met him once in the hallway. Cute.
By Lese Dunton2 years ago in Confessions
The Titanic Adventure
I’ll be going to school in America. Mommy says they have better education there but I think it’s mostly because Daddy wants a new job. I have loved Ireland my entire life, for all of my six years, every bit of it. The gentle rolling hills are a soft blanket of deep green, solid and dependable, and my teachers and friends are such treasures. We said our goodbyes and tried to hold in the crying.
By Lese Dunton2 years ago in Fiction