Explore Flash Fiction
The Followers
hamed
Jan 09, 2025
Her Instagram following jumped from 651 to 100,000 overnight. Sarah stared at her phone, puzzled. Every new follower's profile picture showed the same thing: her sleeping face, photographed from above …
The Case of the Missing Semicolon
hamed
Jan 08, 2025
In the bustling city of Codeville, where algorithms roamed and data structures thrived, there was a detective known for solving the most perplexing cases of the digital age. His name …
White Silence
hamed
Jan 17, 2025
The wind howled like a wolf circling its prey, rattling the windows of the small farmhouse. Snow piled higher by the hour, burying the fences and erasing the world beyond …
The Last Argument
hamed
Jan 12, 2025
The fire was a distant glow on the ridgeline when the argument began, its orange hue flickering through the windows of the Harper family’s living room. “We’re not leaving,” said …
The Last Coin
hamed
Jan 20, 2025
In a world of invisible transactions and silent swipes, Ezra’s shop stood as an anomaly. The hand-painted sign above his antique store read: “Cash Only.” People mocked him for it. …
The Sound of the Land
hamed
Jan 22, 2025
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the red earth of the outback. A group of teenagers sat in a loose circle, their faces a …
The Threads of Fate | Chapter 6: Love Lost and Found
dehongi
Jan 25, 2025
The old man could feel the cool evening breeze brushing against his face as he sat on the edge of his bed. The moonlight streamed in through the window, casting …
The Game of Love
hamed
Jan 30, 2025
Emma and Jake had been best friends since freshman year, but somewhere between AP classes and late-night study sessions, friendship had turned into something else. Neither dared to say it. …
The Last Shipment
hamed
Jan 16, 2025
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 …
The Final Blade
hamed
Jan 17, 2025
Rain tapped against the narrow cell window, a rhythmic reminder of time slipping away. Marcel Chevalier sat on the hard cot, his fingers tracing the edges of a worn photograph. …