Timarie Friesen
writer of stories,
poetry, articles
 

Flora opened her door and there stood Mrs. Savellini frowning in the frozen morning. “It’s your responsibility to shovel the sidewalk,...

The writer opens her journal. It’s new, brand new, and hand-crafted of real leather with her name stamped on the cover. It was a gift for...

Ezra’s eyes follow the lines that look like seafoam green waves. Warm periwinkles and grays mix into the pattern, but it never moves....

Edward Tulane is an unlikely friend. He doesn’t have a heart. Even though he means the world to Abilene, the girl who considers this toy...

The cat’s glowing eyes followed Celestina as she flapped her green wings and circled the room. Darkness surrounded the tiny dragon except...

I pondered over the title, “Resolution Road,” for January 1st, with a clean, fresh path stretching ahead. When I snapped the photo on my...

The clearance sign caught his attention, and he turned toward it. On a table lay a dozen or so ornaments, discounted with yellow...

I entered Charles Dickens' world of Victorian London with a lengthy audiobook that's taken more than a year to finish. The reader of this...

Here's a short story I wrote titled, "Savannah's Gravity and Grace." It came from a writing prompt from the writers' group I belong to,...

I walked in an Iowa cornfield looking for leftover scraps. Whole, dried corncobs deter squirrels from climbing onto our bird feeder, so I...

The mouse nibbled three holes and out spilled birdseed. I couldn’t blame him for wanting both food and warmth. But with masking tape I...

Other writers publish their books and have their stories read. The world tweets about it and buzzes with their words. I stand at a fork...

I used to write about chickens. My mom had a coop full of fancy, French hens and they became characters in books I would create for her...

The Secret Garden movie, released in August 2020, offers colorful landscapes and snapshots from Frances Hodgson Burnett’s original story...

If our words – those said aloud, written down, or typed out – sat lined up like pumpkins in a field to be picked, what would they...

On Monday, I made revisions to my blog post from last Friday after a lady in my local writers’ group offered feedback. When I attempted...

The shore stretched out where the water usually flowed. After a long, dry summer, the river sank low. Now the autumn winds made it choppy...

The thickest fiction book on our shelf doubles as a heavy-paged place to press leaves and flowers. Especially during this time of year,...

A lady in my writers’ group writes poetry and narrative with brilliant imagery about her childhood growing up in Iowa. But during the...

In The Staircase of Suzy-Grace, Suzy hears a song on the radio. Here's how it fits into the story I wrote: after listening to the words,...