They Survive, But You May Die

hamed Nov. 2, 2024, 6:05 p.m.

The sun rose slowly over the peaks of the Zagros mountains, casting a golden glow on the tents pitched at the foot of Dena mountain. The Ghashghayi tribe gathered around, their colorful attire blending with the rich landscape, woven with the sounds of singing and laughter. Today was the wedding day of Arash and Arman, twin brothers who, years ago, had defied death itself, and now stood side by side, waiting to meet their brides—two radiant girls from the tribe, each as fierce and free as the horses they loved to ride.

The memories of that long-ago night still lingered with their mother, Afsar, who now watched her sons with pride, her face lined with the strength and determination that had defied fate itself. She recalled how, in their infancy, her babies had been given no chance of survival by the village doctor. Yet her love for them had been …

The Obedient Donkey

hamed Oct. 30, 2024, 1 p.m.

The old farmer set out with a spring in his step, dressed in his best clothes, determined to break from his daily grind and visit his friend in the neighboring village. His donkey waited patiently, as it did every morning, with its head bowed and hooves planted on the familiar dirt path.

After climbing onto the donkey, he felt the gentle rocking motion of its steps and drifted off, lulled by the morning sun and the rhythm of the ride. His thoughts wandered to the good stories and laughter he’d share with his friend, a world away from the endless tending of crops and weeding.

But the donkey, bound by routine, walked the path it had learned by heart. Every day it trotted faithfully to the orchard, carrying the farmer without fail. Today was no exception.

Hours later, the old man stirred awake. His friend’s home was nowhere in sight. …

The Great Collapse: How World War III Began

hamed Oct. 22, 2024, 11:19 a.m.

The year was 2024, a year that would forever be marked as the catalyst of global destruction. In the United States, a razor-thin presidential election set the stage for unprecedented turmoil. The political landscape had grown increasingly polarized, with Republicans and Democrats locked in a bitter and prolonged dispute over the results. The integrity of the electoral process was questioned, accusations of fraud flew from both sides, and legal battles stretched on for months.

The stalemate in Washington paralyzed the government, and as tensions grew, so did the anger of the American people. Protests erupted in cities across the nation, at first peaceful, but soon devolving into violent clashes between opposing groups. Militias began to form, and the line between civilian unrest and organized rebellion blurred. The National Guard was called in to restore order, but in some states, even they were overwhelmed. As political leaders pointed fingers and offered …

The Price of Promises

hamed Oct. 20, 2024, 12:27 p.m.

Emma had loved Ethan since they were kids, back when they passed notes in math class and shared stolen moments beneath the bleachers. He was everything—the handsome, charming boy that every girl in school dreamed about. But it was Emma who had his heart. She wore that victory like a crown, marrying him just a few years after graduation. Their future seemed bright, even inevitable.

Ethan quickly rose in the world of business, taking risks that paid off handsomely. Their home was a picture of success, filled with the luxuries that others only wished for. And Emma, though she had everything, still harbored a question she couldn’t seem to let go.

“Do you still love me?” she asked, often enough that it became like a habit.

Ethan would smile, assuring her with words she needed to hear. But it was never enough. There was always a lingering shadow in her …

Carved in Stone

hamed Oct. 18, 2024, 7:15 a.m.

Under the ancient walnut tree in their courtyard, Pari sat cross-legged on the woven rug, her fingers busy shelling pistachios. The autumn breeze tugged at her silk scarf, now faded like the memories she shared with her husband, Abbas. He sat across from her, silent as always, staring into the distance as if the mountains of their village held answers he couldn’t quite reach.

Fifty years of marriage lay between them like a jagged path—rocky, weathered, yet unbreakable. They had fought wars, not just with the world but with each other, sometimes over trivial things—a misplaced slipper, a forgotten errand. But there were darker days, too, ones that neither spoke of anymore. The loss of their son in the revolution. The hunger during years of drought. The betrayal of whispered promises when tempers flared. In those moments, hatred had crept in, sharp and cold.

But so had love, fierce and …

The Unseen Caretaker

hamed Oct. 6, 2024, 8:28 a.m.

Thomas had always been the rock for everyone he loved. He carried their burdens as if they were his own. His aging mother’s hospital visits, his sister’s endless crises, and his best friend’s recurring need for money—all of it rested on his shoulders. And he bore it willingly, believing that love meant sacrifice.

He thought if he gave enough, if he was always there, surely they would love him back. He never spoke of his own struggles, his quiet pain, the hollow loneliness that clawed at him late at night. He didn't want to be a burden. His happiness could wait. There was always someone more important, someone who needed him first.

The years passed, and Thomas became a shadow of himself. His face, once bright with kindness, now wore the lines of exhaustion. One by one, those he cared for drifted away. His mother passed, his sister moved across …

He Was Gone

hamed Sept. 12, 2024, 4:53 p.m.

One day, I sat at a bus station, feeling the weight of depression. An old man beside me seemed to sense it.

"What’s troubling you?" he asked gently.

"I see no meaning in life," I replied. "Not here, nor in any other life, if such a thing exists."

He chuckled softly. "Let me share a story," he said. "Perhaps you'll find meaning in this life—and maybe even in the next."

I nodded, and he began.

"I once lived on a twin-planet system. Both worlds were packed with billions of us. Every few days, they sent millions off on missions to escape the overcrowding. But only a few, after countless attempts, ever made it to the capsule in orbit. Most perished. I was one of the rare ones. After many failed attempts, I finally reached the capsule and embarked on a solitary nine-month journey through space. Alone, confined, unsure of what …

Flash Fiction: A Quick Guide to Crafting Powerful Stories

hamed Aug. 26, 2024, 7:56 p.m.

Flash fiction is a literary genre that tells a complete story in a very short space, often under 1,000 words. It's a challenging but rewarding form that requires precision, economy of language, and a strong understanding of narrative structure.

Here are some tips for writing effective flash fiction:

* Start with a strong hook. Grab your readers' attention from the very beginning. A compelling image, a provocative question, or a surprising statement can set the stage for your story.

* Show, don't tell. Use vivid imagery and sensory details to paint a picture for your readers. Avoid excessive exposition and let your characters and their actions tell the story.

* Focus on one central conflict. A flash fiction story doesn't have room for multiple plotlines. Choose one conflict and develop it fully.

* Use strong characters. Even in a short story, your characters should be memorable. Give them distinct personalities …

Most People Don't Like the Journey, But the Destination

hamed Aug. 10, 2024, 1:04 p.m.

The studio lights bathed him in a warm glow, casting long shadows of success. The host, a seasoned pro with a practiced smile, leaned in. "You've built an empire from scratch. Who do you owe it to?"

The entrepreneur, a man of sharp wit and steely resolve, paused dramatically. "Well, there’s this whole world out there, teeming with people, you know? Investors, mentors, employees—the usual suspects. But let’s get real for a second.”

The audience chuckled, anticipating a juicy anecdote.

"In the darkest hours of my startup, I sent out a mass text. A cry for help, I guess. Most of them probably read it, thought, 'Poor guy,' and moved on. But a handful – and I mean handful – replied with a sticker. Or a thumbs up. No cash, no advice, just a digital pat on the back."

The audience was silent, then erupted in laughter.

"I know, it …

My First Story

ahmad May 1, 2024, 5:58 a.m.

I didn't expect this feeling to hit me like a dodgeball to the gut during Mr. Johnson's epic history lecture on, like, the bubonic plague or something. Jessica, who usually doodles unicorns with butterfly wings in her notebook, was taking actual notes. And for some reason, the way the light hit the highlighter in her hair – it was like a sunset exploding in a highlighter factory.

My stomach did a weird flip, and I swear my notebook started sweating. This wasn't normal. Jessica had been my best friend since kindergarten, the kind of friend who shared her Dunkaroos and helped you cheat on pop quizzes (shhh, don't tell Mom). But suddenly, Dunkaroos seemed, well, childish. Now, all I craved was the courage to ask her if highlighter sunsets happened to everyone or just me.

The bell shrieked, jolting me back to reality. Jessica, ever the blur of sunshine …