Flash Stories

After the Storm

hamed Jan. 16, 2025, 5:18 p.m.

The morning after the storm, the Great Smoky Mountains stood shrouded in a ghostly mist, as if mourning the devastation below. Entire trees lay uprooted, power lines tangled like webs, and the small town of Cedar Hollow, nestled in a valley, was barely recognizable.

Clara stood in what used to be her front yard, holding a shattered photo frame. The glass was gone, but the picture—a faded snapshot of her late husband holding their infant son—remained intact. She clutched it to her chest, her breath fogging in the cold mountain air.

“Clara!” a voice called. She turned to see Jake, the local mechanic, jogging up the muddy road. His jeans were soaked, and his hands were caked with dirt.

“We’re meeting at the church,” he said. “Figured it’s the best place to coordinate.”

Clara nodded. “I’ll be there soon.”

By noon, nearly the entire town had gathered at the church, …

The Boardroom Mirror

hamed Jan. 16, 2025, 5:16 p.m.

“Next on the agenda,” Marcus said, tapping his pen against the glossy table. “The DEI program.”

The room fell silent, save for the hum of the air conditioning. Amelia watched as her colleagues exchanged loaded glances, their expressions a blend of impatience and resistance. She could already hear the undercurrent of what they wouldn’t say out loud: Here we go again.

She cleared her throat. “As you all know, the Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion initiative is designed to address long-standing disparities within our workforce and—”

“Cost us millions,” interrupted Charles, the CFO, his voice dripping with irritation. “Look, Amelia, no one’s saying diversity isn’t important, but these mandatory trainings and hiring quotas are alienating our top performers.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room. Amelia’s hand tightened around her coffee cup.

“This isn’t about quotas,” she said, her voice steady but firm. “It’s about creating a workplace where everyone—regardless …

The Road to Somewhere

hamed Jan. 16, 2025, 5:12 p.m.

The distant pop of gunfire echoed through the humid night. Lina clutched her son tighter, his small frame trembling against her chest. “Maman, I’m scared,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of their hurried footsteps.

“I know, bébé,” she said, her own fear buried beneath layers of practiced calm. “We just have to keep moving.”

Behind them, Port-au-Prince burned. The gang wars had turned their neighborhood into a battlefield, and the police—the few who hadn’t fled—were powerless. Two nights ago, they had watched their neighbor’s house go up in flames, the screams inside silenced too quickly. Lina knew their turn was next.

Now, they were on the road, along with hundreds of others, shadows moving through the darkened countryside. Her husband, Marcel, walked ahead, carrying a tattered bag with the last of their belongings: a change of clothes for each of them, a few cans of food, …

The Last Shipment

hamed Jan. 16, 2025, 5:09 p.m.

Aria leaned against the counter of her empty shop, staring at the shelves that once overflowed with imported teas and spices. The air was thick with the scent of cinnamon—a reminder of better days. Outside, the neon sign flickered weakly: “Global Goods Market – Est. 2047.”

She traced the chipped edge of her register, her thoughts spiraling as the latest tariff announcement replayed in her mind. The government called it a "necessary step" to protect local industries, but for Aria, it felt like a death sentence.

“Thirty percent,” she muttered, shaking her head. Import costs had doubled overnight, and her loyal customers, already stretched thin, couldn’t stomach the price hikes.

The bell above the door jingled, startling her. A man in a faded coat shuffled in, his face shadowed by the dim light.

“Are you still selling the Darjeeling?” he asked, his voice hesitant.

Aria smiled faintly. “You’re in luck. …

Tongue of the Earth

hamed Jan. 16, 2025, 5:06 p.m.

The policeman’s hand hovered near his holster. “I said, step back.”

Jahan stood his ground, his breath ragged but steady. The midday sun bore down on the cracked pavement between them, turning the air into a furnace. Around them, passersby slowed but kept their distance, their eyes darting between the officer’s barked orders and Jahan’s clenched fists.

“I didn’t do anything,” Jahan said, his accent faint but undeniable. The officer’s gaze narrowed, dissecting his words as if searching for hidden defiance.

“You’re acting suspicious. Let me see some ID.”

“I was walking home. That’s not a crime.”

“It is if I say it is.”

The words struck like a lash, and Jahan felt something primal stir within him—an anger fed by years of stares, whispered insults, and the weight of being out of place. He reached into his pocket slowly, but the officer’s hand twitched toward his gun.

“Easy!” the …

The Miracle of 3:42 AM

hamed Jan. 16, 2025, 5:03 p.m.

Nadia stared at the beeping monitor in the ER, her hand trembling against her abdomen. "Pregnant?" she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of disbelief. "That’s impossible. I’m… I can’t…"

The doctor adjusted his glasses, his expression softening. "I understand this is a shock. But you’re in labor, Ms. Farah. We need to move quickly."

Her mind spun. For years, she had tried. The clinics, the tears, the endless tests all pointed to one unyielding conclusion: infertility. She had mourned the children she would never have, buried that dream deep inside her. And now, after all this time, here she was, caught in a whirlwind of chaos and pain, about to meet a child she never knew existed.

"How did I not know?" she gasped, gripping the side of the gurney as another contraction rippled through her body. The nurse, a kind-faced woman, squeezed her shoulder. "Sometimes, life keeps …

The Curse of Love and Immortality - Chapter 10: The Hidden Truth

dehongi Jan. 16, 2025, 12:19 p.m.

The princess sat still, her eyes fixed on her father. His voice had grown softer as the tales had unfolded, each one wrapping its tragic beauty around the heart of the story they were telling. But as the candlelight flickered and the evening deepened, a silence fell between them, a heaviness in the air that seemed to speak of something far more personal, far more profound.
The king leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant as though lost in the long corridors of his memories. The princess had been silent for some time, her heart heavy with the weight of the stories she had heard. But now, there was a question hanging in the air, one that had lingered in her thoughts through every chapter they had shared.
"Father," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "you’ve told me of so many Paris, of their sacrifices, of their love for …

The Curse of Love and Immortality - Chapter 9: The Sorrows of Mahin

dehongi Jan. 16, 2025, 12:15 p.m.

The princess’s gaze was steady as the king began the tale, her mind already grasping the thread of sorrow woven into the words that followed. The flickering candlelight cast shadows on the walls, echoing the gravity of the king’s voice.
“This is the tale of Mahin, a Pari whose love was bound to a prince whose heart was torn by war,” the king began, his voice heavy with the weight of the story. “Mahin’s beauty was unmatched, her hair a dark cascade of night, and her eyes as bright as the first stars that appeared in the twilight sky. Yet, it was not her beauty that set her apart, but her compassion for the world’s suffering.”
The princess sat forward, her brow furrowed. "What do you mean, Father? What suffering did Mahin see?"
The king looked at her, his gaze full of sorrow. "Mahin’s life was one of peace and quiet joy, until …

The Curse of Love and Immortality - Chapter 8: Shirin and the Desert Rose

dehongi Jan. 16, 2025, 12:14 p.m.

The king’s voice was softer tonight, almost as if the desert winds themselves had carried it into the chamber. The princess, eager for the next tale, sat with her hands clasped, her eyes fixed on her father.
"This is the story of Shirin," he began, "a Pari whose name means 'sweet.' But her life, though touched by sweetness, was also marked by the harshness of the desert sands she chose to call home."
The princess tilted her head. "A desert? Did she not live in the forests or near rivers, like the others?"
"No," the king replied. "Shirin was different. She loved the vastness of the desert, the endless dunes that seemed to ripple like waves under the golden sun. It was in those unforgiving sands that she first encountered Prince Bahram, the leader of a nomadic tribe who roamed the desert in search of water and life."
"How did they meet?" the princess …

The Curse of Love and Immortality - Chapter 7: Parvaneh, the Moonlit Bride

dehongi Jan. 16, 2025, 12:13 p.m.

The king began the next tale with a wistful smile, his gaze lingering on the flickering flames in the hearth.
"Tonight," he said, "I will tell you the story of Parvaneh, the Pari who became known as the Moonlit Bride. Her name, like her destiny, means 'butterfly,' and her beauty was said to shine brightest under the light of a full moon."
The princess leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "A butterfly beneath the moon… what was her story?"
The king's voice softened as he began. "Parvaneh lived near a great kingdom that held a festival every year to honor the moon. People would gather in the royal gardens on the night of the full moon, wearing silver and white, their laughter and music carrying into the night. Parvaneh, drawn by the beauty of the celebration, would secretly watch from the shadows of the forest. She had always been careful to avoid being seen—until …