Leisl hails from the Blue Mountains, has a penchant for Dickens and a mild case of “Swimmer’s Ear”. She had always wanted to be a singer/.songwriter, but when the height of her musical ability consisted of playing the spoons, she turned her creativity to writing. Surprisingly, she is passable at it. She calls herself a comedy writer, but hey, lets be honest, Hitler called himself a genius.
LeislEgan is a member of Melbourne & Victoria, Short stories - Spherical Scriptings and WMG.
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March 21st Felt worse, yakked in pot plant, felt better. Found car keys. Wondered where I left my car. Wondered why I ate my car keys.
Later. / Boasted to Rachel about Tony. Tony is my sister. Regret every move I made last night. Memo. Mum’s birthday next week may be awkward. Have a few stiff one’s beforehand.
January 1st / A bad day. All I can taste is cigarettes and tequila. When I got home Rachel glared at me with those small brown eyes of hers.
Mortimer pondered on how best to kill to his owner. A landmine would be too obvious. Poison? Not obvious enough.
-Are you there? / -Yes. I’m here…I can’t see you. / -I can’t see you either. / -Are…are we dead?
Frederick had always wondered what life was like outside the bowl. It drove his wife Lynda mad. But Frederick couldn’t help it…