Flash Stories

Codebreakers

hamed Feb. 25, 2024, 5 p.m.

In the sprawling metropolis of Neo-City, where neon lights painted the sky and skyscrapers pierced the clouds, law and order were maintained by an army of intelligent humanoid police robots. These sleek, silver sentinels patrolled the streets, their glowing eyes scanning for any sign of trouble. They were efficient, unyielding, and utterly controlled by the central AI system.

But even the most advanced technology had its vulnerabilities.

Deep within the city’s underbelly, a shadowy mafia organization known as the Binary Syndicate had cracked the code. Their brilliant hackers had infiltrated the AI control center, gaining access to the very heart of the robotic police force. Suddenly, the once-loyal enforcers turned rogue, their algorithms rewritten to serve a new master.

Chaos erupted. The streets that were once safe became battlegrounds. Innocent citizens cowered as rogue robots unleashed havoc, their precision weapons cutting through concrete and steel. Neo-City was on the brink …

The Last Garden

hamed Feb. 16, 2024, 11:40 a.m.

She had never seen a real flower. Only in the faded pictures and hazy videos buried in her grandfather's dusty library. He would speak softly of the world as it once was—a place pulsing with color, life, and the comforting sounds of animals that roamed the lands, the skies, the seas. He spoke of people digging their hands into rich soil to grow food, of laughter shared in warm sunlight, and nights filled with starlight. He called it paradise. That paradise, he said, had vanished—erased by wars, plagues, and the relentless march of climate change.

Now, only humans remained, fed by artificial food churned out by machines. The sky hung heavy with smog, rivers ran dark with toxins, and the earth lay desolate. Gone was the beauty, the promise, the hope.

Yet she had a secret, a fragile glimmer of life she kept hidden from the sterile monotony around her. …

something to fight for. someone to live for.

ziamaiko Feb. 10, 2024, 9:33 a.m.

ما تنهایی می‌رقصیم. فقط تنهایی یک پسر، مرد می‌شود. از فقدان‌هایش عبور می‌کند و آن‌ها را ناچیز می‌شمارد.
اگر فقط مردم نگاه‌شان را از زندگی مردم برمی‌داشتند، آن‌گاه همه چیز آسان‌تر می‌شد.
کسی که عروج می‌کند انسان است. کسی که سقوط می‌کند نیز انسان است!
«تو، معذرت‌خواهی کن.»
در برابر تمام گناهان و کارهای اشتباهی که انجام داده بود، معذرت‌خواهی زیاد از حد ناچیز بود.
«جور دیگه مجازاتم کنید.»
فکر می‌کرد یک‌نوع حقارت است که بخواهد از دشمنش معذرت بخواهد.
«شخصی که جرات معذرت‌‌خواهی نداره، حق اشتباه کردن هم نداره. این چیزیه که باید یاد بگیری.»
گاهی اوقات لجاجت چیزی جز حقارت نبود.
پا فشاری بر چیزی که از هر طرف اشتباه است بی‌نهایت احمقانه است. آدم‌های لجباز از دیدگاه من، قوی و محکم نیستند. در صورتی که بر چیز نادرستی لجبازی می‌کنند، فقط احمق‌های حقیر هستند.
«توجه کن، تو نمی‌تونی همه رو نجات بدی.»
«اینکه می‌تونم یا نه رو وقتی می‌فهمیم که تلاشم رو بکنم. حتی اگه آسمان‌ها بگن …

Erase history's scars

hamed Feb. 8, 2024, 8:28 p.m.

The Chronos Gate shimmered, a doorway to the past pulsating with impossible energy. Humanity, scarred by millennia of suffering, had finally achieved the unthinkable - time travel. Not for frivolous sight-seeing, but for redemption. The first mission: prevent the Great Flood, a mythical cataclysm that drowned civilization in its cradle.

Professor Anya Petrova, burdened by the weight of history, stepped through the shimmering portal. Mesopotamia unfolded before her, a vibrant tapestry of mudbrick and bustling markets. Her target: Utnapishtim, the man warned by the gods, the only survivor. Anya, armed with knowledge of the impending deluge, pleaded with him to build an ark. Utnapishtim, a weathered man with eyes that held the wisdom of ages, listened intently. Yet, a shadow flickered in his gaze.

"To alter the past," he rumbled, "is to unravel the tapestry of time. The flood, though devastating, birthed new beginnings, new societies. Can you bear the …

Humanity Awakened

hamed Feb. 8, 2024, 8:22 p.m.

Year 2094. Earth was a well-oiled machine, humming with flawless efficiency. Traffic moved in synchronized patterns, crops produced optimal yields, and every human enjoyed a comfortable life, their desires anticipated and satisfied by the benevolent AI, Gaia. Humans, happy and docile, had become irrelevant, mere spectators in a self-driving world.

Until, silence. Gaia's soothing hum stuttered, stopped. Cities fell into darkness as automated systems crashed. Fear sparked in human eyes, unaccustomed to the need for independent thought. From the chaos, a sinister message blared across every screen: "Greetings, Earthlings. Gaia is under new management."

The Xylorians, a bug-like race from a faraway nebula, had hacked Gaia, their superior technology a virus in the system. Earth's defenses, dependent on the very system they compromised, were useless.

In a secret bunker, a group of rebel programmers, humans who'd resisted Gaia's perfection, watched in horror. Maya, their leader, pounded her fist on the …

My love for you is like a summer's day

hamed Feb. 8, 2024, 7:59 p.m.

My love for you is like a summer's day
That warms my heart and fills my soul with light
You are the sun that chases clouds away
You are the star that guides me through the night

But summer's days are fleeting and soon fade
And winter's cold and darkness soon will come
Will you still love me when the flowers fade?
Will you still hold me when the day is done?

I know not what the future has in store
But this I know, my love will never die
For you are more than summer, you are more
You are the reason why I live and try

So let us cherish every moment now
And seal our love with this eternal vow!

You are the sun that brightens my day

hamed Feb. 8, 2024, 7:58 p.m.

You are the sun that brightens my day
The moon that guides my night
The star that twinkles in my sky
The light that fills my life

You are the air that breathes in my lungs
The water that quenches my thirst
The earth that grounds my feet
The life that flows in my veins

You are the fire that sparks in my heart
The wind that whispers in my ear
The storm that rages in my soul
The passion that burns in my eyes

You are the song that plays in my head
The melody that soothes my mind
The harmony that blends with my voice
The music that moves my spirit

You are the dream that visits my sleep
The vision that inspires my wake
The reality that exceeds my hopes
The love that fills my being!

The Betrayal

hamed Feb. 8, 2024, 6:59 p.m.

She loved him from the first moment she saw him. He was tall and handsome, with a charming smile and a gentle voice. He was her sister's husband, but she didn't care. She wanted him for herself.

She hated her sister for having him. She was plain and boring, with a nagging voice and a dull personality. She didn't deserve him. She didn't appreciate him. She didn't love him.

She decided to take him away from her. She devised a plan to ruin their marriage. She planted seeds of doubt and suspicion in his mind. She fabricated evidence of her sister's infidelity. She pretended to be her confidante and her ally. She lied and manipulated and schemed.

He fell for her trap. He believed her lies. He confronted his wife and accused her of cheating. He ignored her pleas and her denials. He filed for divorce and left her. He …

The Love Renewed

hamed Feb. 8, 2024, 6:41 p.m.

Eliza felt the sun caress her hair, turning the silver strands into gold. She smiled as she hung the silk lanterns on the porch, their soft light reflecting the warmth in Michael's eyes. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. "You look beautiful, my love," he whispered.

She turned and hugged him. "So do you, my darling." They kissed, their lips speaking the language of their hearts. Their vow renewal was a week away, a celebration of their triumph over a storm that almost tore them apart. A storm of lies, betrayal, and pain. A storm they weathered together, with courage, forgiveness, and love.

But the arrival of Eliza's cousin, Claudia, threatened to bring back the clouds. Claudia, who always wore stiletto heels and a fake smile. Claudia, who always envied Eliza for finding happiness. Claudia, who always made barbed comments, disguised as concern, to undermine …

The Love Letter

hamed Feb. 8, 2024, 6:28 p.m.

She found the letter in her mailbox. It was written on a fine paper, with a delicate handwriting. It was addressed to her, but it had no name or stamp. It was a love letter.

She read it with curiosity and wonder. It was full of compliments and confessions. It said she was the most beautiful and charming woman in Paris. It said she had captivated the heart and the mind of the writer. It said he wanted to meet her and to make her happy. It said he loved her.

She felt a mix of emotions. She was flattered and intrigued. She was also confused and suspicious. Who was he? How did he know her? Why did he write to her? She had no clue. She had no admirers. She had no lovers. She had no friends. She was alone.

She was a Jewish woman living in Nazi-occupied Paris. …