Brooke Farrar

Joined June 2021

0 stories

Bio

Inspired by Lemony Snicket, who kindled a flame in my childish mind, and I am constantly in awe of Douglas Adams' ability to gather seemingly ordinary words into a confusing bouquet of inspiration and hilarity.

Stories (20/0)

Morning Song
My fingers are full of music and the backyard with inspiration blowing respite from hazy summer beats. Boring birds sing hallelujah
By Brooke Farrar20 days ago in Poets
The Totem
An owl flew into my car when I was driving home yesterday. It was dark, and I was surprised. It was only a graze (I think that helped),
By Brooke Farrar2 months ago in Poets
Glorious Rising
Another day to rise and begin again. The weights of when, and what if, and why carried like crosses down a martyr’s lane.
By Brooke Farrar7 months ago in Poets
The Fourth Chair
Your table is a simple thing: it’s made of plain, unfinished wood and only holds room for four, but though the object itself is unspectacular, you’ve poured your heart out on it to care for those who matter the most.
By Brooke Farrar8 months ago in Fiction
You Can Bet On It
I’ve held you closer than a handful of bad cards drawn, with the house edge. I’d put money on losing my sanity to a gambler’s dream —
By Brooke Farrar11 months ago in Poets
How do I unlearn the worship of a man?
How do I keep my hands from shaking – like an overeager pet – when they at last notice their master's marked gaze after walking softly through
By Brooke Farrar12 months ago in Poets
How Do I learn to Let Go?
How do I keep my hands from shaking – like an overeager pet – when they at last notice their master gazing at them after walking softly through
By Brooke Farrarabout a year ago in Poets
The Forces Cry Out
Howling with rage together, as if to say- We will have our peace.
By Brooke Farrar2 years ago in Poets
Reverence
Red breasted house finches punctuate the dark stained pavement only a few steps beyond my back porch, bowing copper dusted heads
By Brooke Farrar2 years ago in Poets
The Storm
Thunderous drum claps Shatter cerulean mirrors- Cloud bursts rolling by.
By Brooke Farrar2 years ago in Poets
Bury Me Standing Up
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. For the first time in my life I wish that were true. The noise over the intercom is growing so loud that I’m forced to hit mute, or become paralyzed with fear.
By Brooke Farrar2 years ago in Fiction
The Campaigners
“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.” Loud groans broke out around the fire before the plump fairy could strum the first note on her guitar.
By Brooke Farrar2 years ago in Fiction

Brooke Farrar

Bio

Stories (20/0)

Morning Song

The Totem

Glorious Rising

The Fourth Chair

You Can Bet On It

How do I unlearn the worship of a man?

How Do I learn to Let Go?

The Forces Cry Out

Reverence

The Storm

Bury Me Standing Up

The Campaigners

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Brooke Farrar

Bio

Stories .css-1svwz57-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-default-mute);}(20/0)

Morning Song

The Totem

Glorious Rising

The Fourth Chair

You Can Bet On It

How do I unlearn the worship of a man?

How Do I learn to Let Go?

The Forces Cry Out

Reverence

The Storm

Bury Me Standing Up

The Campaigners

Subscribe to my stories

Send me a tip

Stories (20/0)