Farah Thompson
Bio
A writer just trying to make sense of a world on fire and maybe write some worthwhile fiction.
Stories (28/0)
Get Them Out Now
Afghanistan is experiencing a horrible humanitarian crisis. The Taliban for all their claims of moderation are already showing their true colors. Whatever commitment they might have to preventing Afghanistan becoming a safe haven for terrorism will vanish in a year or two as the West sanctions them for how they treat women, children, interpreters, and minority ethnic groups. Likely, the best-case scenario right now is that the nascent resistance forming in Panjshir turns into the real thing, which would result in a bona-fide civil war. Especially since I’m sure someone, possible even a different US administration come 2024 will provide aid.
By Farah Thompson3 years ago in The Swamp
The Apathy of the West
Afghanistan is a horrible situation and it’s not going to get better. Outside of Kabul, the Taliban have already started to show their true colors: Killing a woman for not wearing a burqa. Shooting into a protest in Jalalabad. Making lists of people who helped Americans. Supposedly, the Taliban are moderate now. Sure. I’ll believe it if a year from now little girls can still attend school.
By Farah Thompson3 years ago in The Swamp
3rd Time's the Charm
Author’s Note: Sorry if this is a little too on the nose for anyone. This is one way in which I’m processing the disheartening situation in Afghanistan. Unfortunately, it is all too easy to believe that this story may not be fiction in a few decades’ time. Both as governments and as people, we have a habit of not learning the lessons we need to.
By Farah Thompson3 years ago in Fiction
What's in a name?
What’s in a name? The empty void of space, broken up only slightly by stars, stared back at Lane with no answer. It was late and Lane’s brain was especially philosophical. Was a name supposed to convey character qualities or personality quirks? Or was it just supposed to be a pleasant-sounding identifier, something a person could make their own. Lane sighed and leaned back in the commander’s chair. All the status boards were still green, which meant nothing to do. He could watch a video or read a book or even go to sleep, but Lane didn’t feel like moving. He still had two days before he woke his relief up from cryo-sleep to do their two-week shift.
By Farah Thompson3 years ago in Fiction
Embers of Marigold at Sunset
Outside my window, the sun was shining; it looked like it would be another beautiful summer day. It was the summer that never ends… or never got started. I wasn’t sure which. Two weeks to stop the spread turned into I couldn’t even remember what day it was anymore. Mom wouldn’t be awake for a couple more hours. The treatments for her sickness were really wearing down her body, and she’d just had one yesterday. Everybody was saying she would be okay, but it was scary.
By Farah Thompson3 years ago in Fiction
Special Delivery
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. 6:00 AM I groggily slap my hand around till I find my phone and turn the stupid alarm off. It feels too early. I open my eyes to see what time it is. 6 AM! What idiot sets an alarm for 6 AM on a Saturday?! OH, that’s right, me. I’m that idiot because today is the day. The day I finally get my shit together. And because I was the idiot that set the alarms, I can either get up now, or turn off alarms at five-minute increments for the next hour.
By Farah Thompson3 years ago in Fiction
The Diner
It was a couple hours past sunset, and only two streetlights pierced the darkness. One was almost out of sight, at the far end of the street. The other was in front of their destination: a seedy diner. The diner was the only other source of light. The neon red accents outlined the edges of the diner’s welcoming light pouring out of the windows and propped-open door.
By Farah Thompson3 years ago in Fiction
Triumph of Evil
“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” - Edmund Burke. That is what my father wrote in black sharpie on the inside cover of The Lord of the Rings. It was all three books in one massive, hardcover tome. I don’t remember how old I was, but I know it was between the Two Towers coming out on VHS (gee, am I old?) and the theatrical release of Return of the King. I read that tome cover to cover…and I do mean that. I even read the appendices. It led me to reading The Hobbit and taking a crack at The Silmarillion. That one was over my head; I came back and finished it a few years later.
By Farah Thompson3 years ago in Humans
What's Left of the World
Day Zero I’ve never been much for keeping a journal, but here it goes. My mom wants me to keep a record of my travels: I’ve gotten the feeling she thinks Dad shouldn’t be encouraging me to go. Tomorrow I leave to find my aunt and uncle. They lived on the outskirts of Richmond. I haven’t seen them since before the first pandemic hit, way back in 2020. It has already been six years since it all started. Some would say the apocalypse happened or that God finally brought judgment. I feel like both of those should involve more fire…more war. But there was a lot of death, at least for the first couple years. It’s weird—I knew it was happening, but we had a lot of work to do every day, and it was all happening to somebody else, somewhere else. Plus, I was a fifteen-year-old boy: I thought emotions were overrated unless a girl was involved.
By Farah Thompson3 years ago in Fiction