Daniella Libero
Bio
Writing and publishing are my passions.Storytelling and word craft matter.
I love to observe people and I fall in and out of love everyday.
I write a lot of in-the-moment stories but I love to dabble in magic realism and fantasy.
Stories (10/0)
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Her son and daughter-in-law bought her a Light Healer xi because it could do better at her personal care, but mostly she suspected because it saved them the bother. It was an innovative artefact that allowed them to boast to their friends, a conversational icebreaker at their dinner parties. Everyone they knew was frustrated by a mentally or physically challenged relative; or an aging frail parent; or a maturing maiden aunt. With all the technology available at their homes and in their workspaces, the Light Healer with all its’ whizz- bang and wow- inducing features made perfect sense.
By Daniella Liberoabout a month ago in Fiction
Power
Until the day I set foot in Miss Salman’s library I had never seen so much reading matter in one place. I had moved to a different school in my hometown, and it had a renovated library funded by bequests from former students. I slid my hand down the gold-stamped leather spine of the Funk and Wagnall’s, and gaped at the thickness of the Oxford dictionary. I gawked at the glossy American magazines. The three ceiling high shelves of enormous size filled with fiction made my heart beat faster with excitement.
By Daniella Libero2 months ago in Fiction
Butterfly
Zara lay, face skyward, on the damp grass. The buzz of bees and the distant hum of traffic seemed to vibrate through her torso. Nearby dogs barked and windows whooshed open. It seemed all the world was on the move except her. She felt the gentlest touch upon her cheek, and another upon her arm. Her eyes swiveled in their sockets veiled by her eyelids: she was a little nervous of bees.
By Daniella Libero4 months ago in Fiction
The Pearl Bond
Marie-Claire slipped into her short black evening dress. Its cunning cut flattered her tall slender figure and showed off her shapely legs. The V-neck of the bodice was enhanced by a pearl and aquamarine cross, attached to a string of pearls, the gift of her maternal Grandmother. She decided to pair the cross with the blue Tahitian pearl studs that once belonged to her father’s Aunt. They were a prized gift on her 18th birthday, a little over 17 years before.
By Daniella Libero4 months ago in Fiction
Bird Rescue
Bird Rescue Lorene Boddington arrived at her friend Sharon’s house around 6.30 pm on that Friday evening in September. She swung her long leg over the back of her Honda 350, stood up straight, and removed her helmet. Her jet-black plaits dropped a further inch down her back brushing her waist, as they were freed from under her helmet. She stripped off her cotton lined leather overalls, revealing black denim cut-offs and a fitted white t-shirt. She exchanged her biking boots for red gladiator sandals, and carrying her gear headed to Sharon’s front door. After she rang the bell for admittance, she dumped her gear in Sharon’s front hall and they headed to the kitchen for a cold beer. Their sleepy seaside hometown didn’t offer more than a pub for nightly entertainment, so on the week between fortnightly paydays their group of friends met at Sharon’s for a cards’ night. The refreshments were ice cold beer and salty peanuts, and if Noel, Sharon’s boyfriend, was feeling generous there might be some mixer cans of Rum and Cola.
By Daniella Libero5 months ago in Fiction
Mind My Brother
Through the window, he could see a thin fog creeping across the ground between the gums. He felt an increase in moisture where the sleeves of his polo shirt ended, and his breathing felt restricted. He had often felt like this since events had brought him from his city home to this sixty-year-old house on the northern side of a mountain. A mountain with bush, and bird songs of all types. They even haunted his dreams.
By Daniella Libero6 months ago in Criminal
Afternoon Flight
The broken key wobbled out of the door and fell to the floor. It was an old cast iron key, grown brittle and cracked. Now I would need to call for a pair of pliers to turn the key, and unlock the door. Locking myself in a room to escape the guests : my vacationing adults and their energetic offspring had seemed like such a good idea.
By Daniella Libero6 months ago in Fiction
