Flash Stories

A Curtain Divides the World - Chapter 5: "Mythology of Girls"

dehongi Jan. 17, 2025, 6:41 p.m.

It started as a normal school day, or at least as normal as it could be in Arash's all-boys school, where chaos and testosterone-filled chatter reigned supreme. Mr. Akbari, their literature teacher, was scribbling on the blackboard, his usual monotone voice explaining the poetic structure of an ancient Persian poem.
Arash and Kian, sitting in the back row, were engaged in a silent but heated argument over whether Superman or Rostam would win in a fight. Kian was adamant that Rostam’s divine gifts would give him the edge, while Arash was convinced that Superman’s heat vision would make quick work of Rostam’s armor.
“Boys!” Mr. Akbari barked, his chalk snapping in half from the force of his exasperation. “If you’re going to argue, at least argue about something meaningful. Like… I don’t know… poetry.”
“Sorry, sir,” Arash said quickly, nudging Kian to shut up before they got detention.
Mr. Akbari sighed and turned back …

A Curtain Divides the World - Chapter 4: "Operation Opposite Gender"

dehongi Jan. 17, 2025, 6:40 p.m.

The wedding was the perfect opportunity. Or, at least, that’s how Arash had framed it to Kian as they rode together in the back seat of Kian’s dad’s car.
“You’re overthinking this,” Kian grumbled, adjusting his tie for the fifth time. “It’s just a wedding.”
“It’s not just a wedding,” Arash said with a mischievous grin. “It’s a rare chance to observe and maybe—just maybe—interact with the opposite gender.”
Kian gave him a sidelong glance. “You make it sound like we’re wildlife biologists studying a new species.”
“That’s kind of what we are,” Arash said. “Think about it. How often do we get to be in the same space as girls? This is our chance to see what they’re really like.”
“I already know what they’re like,” Kian muttered. “They’re terrifying.”
When they arrived at the venue, a sprawling garden decorated with fairy lights and elaborate floral arrangements, Arash’s excitement only grew. The air buzzed with …

A Curtain Divides the World - Chapter 3: "Secrets of the Curtain Club"

dehongi Jan. 17, 2025, 6:39 p.m.

It all started during lunch break. Arash and his best friend, Kian, were playing their usual game of "Soccer Without a Ball" in the school courtyard—essentially an overly dramatic simulation of a soccer match where the "ball" was entirely imaginary. Arash had just scored what he declared was a game-winning goal (though Kian insisted it was offside), when they heard a suspicious clunk coming from the old storage shed behind the gym.
The shed was officially "off-limits," which, to any boy worth his salt, meant it was the most interesting place on campus.
“Did you hear that?” Kian whispered, his eyes wide.
“Probably just a cat,” Arash said.
“A cat wearing boots?” Kian pointed toward the shed, where faint murmurs could now be heard. “That’s definitely people.”
The two exchanged a look, the kind of look that boys exchange when they’re about to do something undeniably stupid but utterly irresistible.
“Let’s check it out,” Arash said.
They …

A Curtain Divides the World - Chapter 2: "The Forbidden Question"

dehongi Jan. 17, 2025, 6:39 p.m.

It was a quiet evening at home. Arash sat cross-legged on the living room carpet, building an elaborate fort out of dominoes while his father flipped through the newspaper. His mother was in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared dinner, and his older brother, Saeed, was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone with the expression of someone enduring great boredom.
The quiet was broken when Arash’s younger cousin, Mina, ran past the room, giggling as her mother called after her. Mina had been visiting for a few days, and her presence had been a peculiar phenomenon in the house. Though she was only six years old, she belonged to the "other side," the mysterious world of girls, and her occasional intrusion into Arash’s boy-dominated universe always caused a ripple of awkwardness.
As Mina dashed by, Arash found himself pondering a question that had been bubbling in his mind for …

A Curtain Divides the World - Chapter 1: "Boys, Boys, Boys"

dehongi Jan. 17, 2025, 6:37 p.m.

At Arash’s school, life was a testosterone-fueled symphony of chaos. Every day began with a thundering stampede as boys flooded the hallways, racing each other to class as if punctuality were a sport. Backpacks swung like pendulums, shoes screeched against the tiled floors, and someone, somewhere, was always yelling, “Last one to the classroom is a chicken!”
Arash usually wasn’t in the front of the pack—running wasn’t his thing—but he also refused to be the metaphorical chicken, so he always managed to come in somewhere in the middle. His classroom, Room 14, was a microcosm of every stereotype about boys you could imagine. There was Hamid, the self-proclaimed athlete, who carried a soccer ball everywhere like it was his firstborn child. Majid, the class clown, could turn even the dullest math lecture into a comedy sketch. And then there was Kian, Arash’s best friend, whose life goal seemed to be proving …

A Curtain Divides the World - Prologue

dehongi Jan. 17, 2025, 6:36 p.m.

In Arash's world, everything came in pairs but was never allowed to mix. There were two entrances to every building: one for men, marked with bold, no-nonsense letters, and another for women, adorned with a flower motif that no one questioned. There were two sections in restaurants, separated by a curtain so thick it could muffle a scream, and even two lines at the bakery, as though bread had a gender preference.
But it was school where the divide felt the strongest. Arash’s all-boys school was a loud, chaotic world of roughhousing, competitive shouting, and an unspoken rule that everything, from pencils to playground arguments, must involve some form of combat. Across the street was the girls' school, a fortress of pastel walls and floral murals that seemed to hum with a serene, mysterious energy. For years, Arash and his classmates had speculated wildly about what went on behind its gates.
“Do …

A Wall of Time

hamed Jan. 17, 2025, 3:18 p.m.

The cold wind cut through the cracks in the brick walls of the East Berlin apartment. Eva stood at the window, watching as the world outside trembled with uncertainty and hope. The Wall was coming down. The same Wall that had defined her existence for nearly three decades. The Wall that had divided her city, her country, her family, and her heart.

She gripped the curtains, her fingers trembling. It was happening. The cheers from the streets outside grew louder, mingling with the rhythmic pounding of hammers on stone. She had never imagined this day would come.

Her thoughts wandered back to the days before the Wall, to her childhood. To the long summer afternoons spent running through the streets of Berlin with Markus. They had been inseparable, two children who saw the world in a way that only the young can—full of wonder and possibility, their dreams as big …

Bound for the North

hamed Jan. 17, 2025, 3:09 p.m.

The sun had barely risen when the Ford Model T sputtered to life, its engine groaning as if reluctant to leave the familiar red soil of Mississippi behind. Clara Harris held her breath as the car rattled down the dirt road, the distant hum of the engine the only sound in the pre-dawn stillness. Beside her, her husband, James, gripped the wheel with determination, his knuckles white.

"Everything we’ve worked for, Clara," James said quietly, eyes fixed on the road ahead, "it’s all up north. We can build something better for our children."

Clara nodded, her hand resting protectively on the small bundle in her lap—baby Ruth, fast asleep, unaware of the life-altering journey unfolding around her. Behind them, their two older children, Elijah and Annie, were silent, both lost in their own thoughts. The journey had been their idea, but Clara wasn’t sure if they truly understood what lay …

The Forgotten Engine

hamed Jan. 17, 2025, 2:52 p.m.

Max Turner had always felt a certain magic in the mechanics of machines. As a child, his father’s garage had been a sanctuary, a place where engines hummed to life under his touch, and the scent of motor oil was a constant companion. But it wasn’t just the engines of today that intrigued him—it was the stories of the ones left behind.

While cleaning out the back corner of the dusty old garage, Max stumbled across a rusted frame, half-covered in an old tarp. He had never seen it before. Its shape was unusual, almost elegant in a way that seemed out of place amidst the usual steel-and-rubber beasts of modern automobiles. He bent down to inspect it more closely and froze.

A small plaque was barely visible, etched with the words: The Walker Prototype, 1917—Electric Drive.

Max’s heart skipped a beat. The name Walker wasn’t familiar to him, but …

The Silent March

hamed Jan. 17, 2025, 2:50 p.m.

Evelyn Harris stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the wide-brimmed hat atop her head. The reflection staring back at her wasn’t quite the woman she used to be. The face had the same sharp cheekbones, the same dark eyes, but beneath the surface, it had transformed. The soft, demure woman who once kept to the domestic sphere had been replaced by someone with fire in her heart, someone willing to stand up and fight.

The suffrage movement had grown in strength, its roots digging deeper into the soil of the country, but still, so many voices remained silent. As the 1917 protest loomed, Evelyn could hear the voices of doubt creeping into her mind. “What if they arrest you?” her mother’s voice echoed, heavy with worry. “What if they hurt you? What will happen to us?”

But Evelyn’s resolve had hardened. She had lost count of how many times …