Ellie Lieberman
Bio
A New Jersey transplant, Ellie Lieberman lives now in sunny Southern California. She works with the fairies on her handmade business, Acorn Tops, when not writing or illustrating.
Stories (17/0)
The Egg Thief
“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley,” she tells me with something forlorn in her eyes as we huddle behind a boulder. Sweat sits uncomfortably on the back of my neck, and I’d like to say it was just the intense heat. The wind carries the scent of ash, bringing with it memories I’d rather forget. I also can’t blame that for my quickly drying throat, as much as I’d like to.
By Ellie Liebermanabout 5 hours ago in Fiction
Yours Truly
Inspired by characters in my book series, Be! Words have never come easy to me. Even in your presence, though, in a lot of ways, you were the one who felt safest, outside of Henry. Even in your room with the door closed, though that is, perhaps, where felt safest.
By Ellie Lieberman6 days ago in Fiction
SCOTUS's Most Recent Decision
When my grandmother was pregnant in the 50’s and 60’s, she and my grandfather knew to go to a Jewish obstetrician because should anything go wrong, a Jewish obstetrician saves the mother’s life. When my mother needed an emergency hysterectomy to save her life in the late 90’s, the doctors required her husband to sign off acknowledging he knew and consenting to it. From around 2018 to a couple months ago, when I told doctors I wanted my tubes tied I was denied, told no one would ever help me even in the most dire of circumstances, or was dismissed with no hope of a referral.
By Ellie Lieberman12 days ago in The Swamp
A Leap of Faith
She always said she wanted to know what it felt like to fly. Can you blame her, then, for considering the wings? Her hands stroked the feathers, fingers relishing the softness, in awe that something so seemingly delicate could be her ticket out of the gilded cage that was her life. The swirl of questions constantly hounding her- why could she not learn to be content with what she had? How could the years not plant her feet firmly on the ground? When would she finally learn?- all silenced so suddenly, wind-swept away.
By Ellie Lieberman16 days ago in Fiction
The Spiral
I’ve been here before on this spiral path, felt the ancient slumber as holy as the leaves danced and the flowers bloomed and the sun kissed the face of the earth. Felt the roots of my mothers before me, the whispers in the wind making goosebumps on my arms.
By Ellie Lieberman6 months ago in Poets
The White Peacock
Petrichor hung heavy in the air, and the early morning frost sparkled in the blinding sun. The patterns on the leaves would have been mesmerizing, if it weren’t for the tracks in the still soft ground. It was early in the year for the rare white peacock, but the white feather I found earlier- nearly as transparent as a spider’s web- indicated one was close by.
By Ellie Lieberman6 months ago in Fiction
A Single Marigold
The bulldozers came at noon, and I wept as though grieving a friend. To anyone else, it would have been ridiculous. This, though, was the summers of my childhood. A field of sunshine, the burst of yellows, the musk enveloping you as you laid your head among the petals and foliage.
By Ellie Lieberman10 months ago in Fiction
The First Slice
“Morning, Phil.” Vivian called out, as the bell above the door chimed. She didn’t bother looking up from the coffee machine as the old man grabbed a seat at the counter. He rested the cane against his stool and removed his hat. “Your Saturday usual?” she asked, mug of steaming hot chocolate and a fresh slice of chocolate cake, the very first of the day, in hand.
By Ellie Lieberman10 months ago in Fiction
A Drive Through the Night
We pull out of the parking lot, and I let the car idle with a good two or three headlights shining in my rearview mirror. Because I already feel like an asshole. It’s not that I mind her being with me. If I’m honest, I’ve missed her. Just, some heads up would’ve been nice.
By Ellie Lieberman10 months ago in Fiction
