Flash Stories

Stuck in the Drift

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 6:17 p.m.

The horizon was a dull line where the Suez Canal met the sky. It was the kind of day that seemed to stretch on forever—no end, no movement. Ahmed stood at the helm of the Ever Given, staring out into the endless expanse of water, his knuckles white on the railing. The ship had been stuck for days now, wedged sideways across the canal, its massive hull blocking one of the busiest trade routes in the world.

It wasn’t the kind of thing you imagined happening when you signed up to work at sea.

"How much longer, do you think?" Farhan, the youngest of the crew, asked from behind him. The boy had a nervous edge to his voice, one that had been growing sharper with each passing hour. His eyes darted across the horizon, as though he could will the ship to move with nothing but sheer will.

Ahmed …

The Unseen March

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 6:15 p.m.

In the quiet town of Pine Ridge, where the roads were dusted with memories of a slower time, the protest felt out of place. Pine Ridge was a town that barely made it onto maps, let alone news headlines. But when the world’s rage over police brutality ignited, it didn’t stop at the boundaries of the big cities. It seeped into small towns too, to places like Pine Ridge, where people might not always raise their voices, but when they did, it was hard to ignore.

Samantha was the first to show up, walking alone toward the town square. Her sneakers kicked up the dirt as she glanced at the empty street. It felt like an impossible thing to do in a town where everyone knew everyone else’s business. She wasn’t sure how this would go, but after months of scrolling through the news, watching videos of people whose lives …

Voices of the Forgotten

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 5:36 p.m.

In the small town of Willow Creek, tucked away in the rolling hills of the countryside, the world seemed a faraway place. The local café served the same cup of coffee, the high school football games were still the talk of Friday nights, and people smiled at each other on the streets. But, in the shadows of their quiet existence, something had shifted. The ripples of the global protests against police brutality had reached even this remote corner of the world.

Maya stood on the edge of the town square, watching as people began to gather. There was a nervous energy in the air, a feeling that something momentous was about to happen. She had never been one for public displays, but the images of George Floyd’s death—his final breaths, his cry for help—had haunted her every night. The injustice, the brutality, had pushed her to the breaking point. She …

Embers of the Earth

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 5:33 p.m.

Jenna had been a firefighter long enough to know that the crackling fire on the horizon was a harbinger of destruction, but nothing could prepare her for the enormity of what was coming. The sun, a fiery orb behind the smoke, painted the sky with the color of rage, its heat suffocating the land.

The fires had started as a whisper in the distance—an ember, a spark, a small flame. But by the time she and her team arrived, the inferno was a monstrous roar, devouring everything in its path. She gripped her hose tighter, her hands raw from the constant pressure. "We fight, we don’t run," she whispered to herself, but the words felt hollow.

As the fire raged, the thick, choking smoke made it hard to see, harder to breathe. The world around them was an endless sea of orange and black. Jenna’s mind flashed back to her …

In the Waiting Room

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 5:05 p.m.

Mira sat at her cluttered desk, eyes scanning the screen in front of her, the cursor blinking beside another email from a supplier—another delay. The shelves in her small bakery, Sweet Beginnings, sat half-empty, a stark contrast to the days when her display case would be brimming with freshly baked pastries, warm bread, and vibrant cakes. Now, there were only a few sad loaves and half-baked attempts at new recipes, each more experimental than the last.

“Flour, sugar, eggs... where are you?” she muttered under her breath, clicking on yet another message about an estimated shipment. No guarantees. No exact dates.

The global supply chain crisis had made even the most basic ingredients difficult to source. Mira had spent weeks calling, emailing, and begging her regular suppliers to send the most basic things she needed—flour, chocolate, butter—but each time, she was met with the same cold, impersonal reply: delayed, no …

The Silent Arena

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 5:03 p.m.

Yumi stood at the edge of the track, her heart pounding with anticipation. The Tokyo 2020 Olympics, held a year later, had been nothing like the Games she’d imagined. There were no roaring crowds, no energetic cheers, no vibrant national flags waving in the air. Just the quiet hum of an empty stadium, the muffled echo of footsteps, and the occasional beep of a camera clicking.

This wasn’t the Tokyo she had dreamed of—where she’d envisioned the cheers of thousands lifting her to victory. Instead, she found herself competing in the quietest Olympics in history, held under the heavy weight of pandemic restrictions.

As she adjusted her racing bib, Yumi tried to block out the isolation that had defined the lead-up to these Games. The months of quarantine, of training in sterile gyms, of virtual team meetings with her coach—everything had felt distant, disconnected. Even her family, usually her loudest …

A Vote for Change

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 5:02 p.m.

Maya stood at the edge of the campaign office, eyes darting between the overflowing stack of phone banks and the muted TV in the corner. The results of the 2020 U.S. Presidential Election were coming in, and she could feel the pulse of the nation racing through her veins. Each call she made, each text she sent, was one small thread in the tapestry of history unfolding in real-time.

Her fingers were trembling, not just from the cold of the November night but from the weight of the moment. She’d been a volunteer for months, sacrificing evenings, weekends, everything she could spare, driven by a single belief: this election had to be different. The country had to be different.

Her mother, sitting in the cramped living room of their small apartment in Philly, had watched the news every night since the first primary. She was a fervent supporter of the …

Echoes of Earth

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 5 p.m.

Commander Elena Martinez floated in the quiet solitude of the Mars capsule, her hands steady as she adjusted the controls, guiding their craft closer to the Red Planet. The stars outside the small porthole shimmered, distant and cold, like pinpricks of hope in an endless, empty canvas.

She was the first to leave Earth with a mission that felt bigger than any one person—humanity’s boldest leap into the unknown. They called it Ares Venture, a pioneering journey that would mark the beginning of colonizing Mars, of securing humanity’s future beyond their fragile home. Yet, despite all the technology, the sleek spacecraft, and the mission’s grand purpose, Elena couldn’t shake the feeling of being utterly, terribly alone.

The other astronauts were awake—some conducting experiments, others preparing for the arrival—but Elena felt the weight of the silence in her chest. It wasn’t the absence of sound that unsettled her. It was the …

The Sound of Silence

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 4:58 p.m.

Olena crouched by the window, her eyes tracing the distant skyline where the city’s once-proud spires now stood jagged and broken against the pale, grey sky. The sounds of war were a constant presence now—booms in the distance, the faint crackle of gunfire, and the ever-present hum of sirens that had become as much a part of daily life as the hum of her own heartbeat.

She used to wake up to the sounds of birds outside, her children’s laughter, the chatter of neighbors exchanging morning greetings. But that was before.

Now, each day felt like a fragile thread stretched too thin, one tug away from snapping. The world had changed overnight, and the city she had loved so much was slowly crumbling, piece by piece.

Yet, amid the chaos, Olena still managed to find moments of peace. A bowl of warm soup shared with her mother, the brief comfort …

Voices in the Wind

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 4:56 p.m.

Lina sat at her desk, staring at the empty notebook in front of her. The words wouldn’t come. She had watched Greta Thunberg speak on TV for the hundredth time, the young activist’s determined face burned into her mind. Greta’s voice echoed in her ears: “You are never too small to make a difference.”

Lina had always been passionate about the environment. Growing up in a small coastal town, she had seen the tides rise and the weather patterns shift. The storms were getting fiercer. The summers, unbearably hot. It wasn’t just the news anymore; it was personal. She had watched the mangroves near her home erode away, the saltwater creeping closer to the heart of their town.

But how could one person make a difference?

She flipped open her phone, scrolling through social media, seeing the protests, the marches, the powerful words of activists in big cities. “I want …