Flash Stories

The Last Heir

hamed Jan. 10, 2025, 4:55 p.m.

Sarah Blackwood traced her fingers over the family portraits lining the mahogany-paneled hallway. First went little Tommy, found frozen in the greenhouse despite the summer heat. Then Mother, discovered at the bottom of the stairs with a broken neck – though Sarah couldn't remember those stairs ever creaking before. Father lasted longer, until the hunting accident that everyone called suspicious but couldn't prove otherwise.
At seventeen, she was the last Blackwood standing.
Mr. Peterson, their family lawyer since before her birth, had been a constant presence through each tragedy. He arranged the funerals, managed the estate, and became her legal guardian. His cold efficiency in handling their affairs had been a comfort, until she found the old photograph while cleaning out Mother's dresser.
It showed a younger Peterson at a garden party, his eyes fixed on her mother with an intensity that made Sarah's skin crawl. In every frame, he lurked in the …

A Promise in the Stars

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 5:08 p.m.

February 1, 2003, began as a day like any other for Karen, the sun filtering through the kitchen window as she brewed her morning coffee. She stood in front of the counter, the scent of freshly ground beans filling the air, but her mind was far away, fixed on the stars. Today, her husband Rick was supposed to be coming home. Rick, who had spent the last two weeks aboard the Space Shuttle Columbia. She had watched him launch with her heart swelling with pride, but also with a pang of anxiety, as she always did when he was in space.

She knew the risks, knew that every mission carried the weight of danger, but they had promised each other long ago that they would live in the present. They would savor the moments they shared, whether he was grounded on Earth or orbiting above it.

The phone rang, pulling …

The Nine Pieces of a Kumiho's Heart

hamed Jan. 20, 2025, 6:53 p.m.

Hyejin wandered through the village, her pale hanbok fluttering like mist. The villagers whispered as she passed, her beauty unearthly, her steps too quiet. They did not know what she truly was, but they sensed the truth in their bones: Hyejin was a Kumiho.

Once, centuries ago, she had been like her sisters, devouring the hearts of men to taste fleeting humanity. But something had changed. She had tasted enough pain to see its futility, watched countless lives extinguished by her hunger. One night, standing beneath the full moon, she vowed to live differently.

She discovered her gift by accident. The first man she saved was a boy, barely fifteen, who had been overcome by grief after losing his mother. Hyejin had felt the ache of his sorrow like a physical weight. She had reached into herself, pulling free a shard of her immortal heart—a glowing ember, warm and alive.

The Curse of Love and Immortality - Chapter 5: Yasmin and the Prince of Winter

dehongi Jan. 16, 2025, 12:11 p.m.

The king’s voice carried a chill that matched the story he was about to tell. The flickering flames in the hearth seemed to dance slower as he began, their warmth struggling against the weight of the tale.
“Tonight,” he said, “we speak of Yasmin, the Pari who gave her heart to a prince cursed by winter—a man whose life was bound to frost and snow, who could never feel the warmth of spring.”
The princess tilted her head. “A curse? Was it magic?”
The king nodded. “It was. The prince, Darian, had once been beloved by the gods of the seasons, but his pride earned him their wrath. He dared to say he needed no one—not even the gods themselves. For his arrogance, he was cursed to live in perpetual winter. Snow followed him wherever he went, and ice bloomed under his touch. No fire could warm him, and no sun could thaw …

Across the Divide

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 4:23 p.m.

“Rent just went up again,” Sam typed, the words heavy on the screen. She stared at her phone, sitting in the corner of her tiny Brooklyn apartment. The radiator hissed, and the faint smell of burnt toast wafted from the neighbor’s kitchen.

Moments later, the reply came: “I can’t imagine. Here, rents have been capped since the crisis. Have you thought about leaving?”

Sam sighed. “Where would I go, Marta? The U.S. is like quicksand. Once you’re in, you can’t afford to get out.”

Across the Atlantic, Marta sat in her sunny Lisbon flat, sipping espresso. Outside, the pastel buildings of her neighborhood gleamed in the afternoon light. Her job as a remote UX designer paid enough to cover rent, groceries, and even a weekend trip to the Algarve now and then. But she didn’t say that to Sam. She didn’t want to widen the gap between them.

“I heard …

The Notice

hamed Jan. 14, 2025, 5 p.m.

David pinned the notice to the break room wall with trembling hands. "Minimum Wage Increase - Effective Next Month." Around him, the convenience store hummed with its usual fluorescent drone, but the air felt different. Lighter, somehow.

"Maybe I can quit the night shift at the warehouse," Maria whispered, mental calculations playing across her face. "Actually help Tommy with his homework instead of falling asleep over his math book."

Tommy was in David's sister's class at the community college. She taught developmental math there – the remedial classes they'd added after the state made tuition free at public colleges. Her classroom was full of students like Tommy, brilliant kids who'd worked jobs instead of joining study groups, who'd chosen shifts over tutoring sessions.

The bell chimed as Mrs. Chen from the dry cleaners next door entered, clutching her grandson Kevin's hand. "Did you see?" she asked, pointing at an identical …

The Last Trade

hamed Jan. 10, 2025, 5:44 p.m.

The bell over the door jingled one final time. Sofia looked up, her fingers idly tracing the floral patterns carved into the counter. It was a relic from her father’s era, the oak stained with decades of varnish and sweat. In walked Mrs. Devlin, her scarf pulled tightly around her face against the January chill.

“You’re really closing, Sofia?” Mrs. Devlin’s voice was soft, almost mournful.

Sofia nodded, forcing a smile. “Last day. The shelves are nearly bare, anyway.”

She glanced around the store. The jars of Italian olives, the French soaps, and the Turkish tea sets had been replaced with emptiness. The new tariffs had priced her loyal customers out, and soon even her suppliers had stopped calling.

“I thought I’d at least make it to spring,” Sofia said, her voice cracking despite herself. She cleared her throat. “Guess not.”

Mrs. Devlin set a tin of local honey on …

Whispers from the Attic

hamed Jan. 30, 2025, 7:13 p.m.

The attic smelled like old books and dust, a heavy, musty scent that made Emma and Noah sneeze as they dug through boxes of forgotten treasures. Their grandmother had passed away last month, and now, it was their job to clear out her house.

"No way she kept all these old things," Noah muttered, tossing a faded scarf into a pile. "Who even needs a hundred-year-old picture frame?"

Emma shrugged, her hand brushing over the surface of a worn wooden box tucked in the far corner. "Maybe there’s something valuable in here."

They opened it carefully, the hinges creaking in protest. Inside were stacks of yellowed letters, tied together with a faded ribbon. Emma’s fingers trembled as she untied the bundle, the weight of the moment sinking in.

“Who’s this from?” she asked, scanning the first letter. It was dated 1947.

Noah leaned in, squinting at the neat, flowing handwriting. …

Reboot

hamed Jan. 14, 2025, 5:16 p.m.

Jamal’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, a moment of hesitation before he clicked “Submit” on the online course registration. He had spent hours staring at the screen, reading reviews of the “Introduction to Data Science” course. Was this really what he needed? Did he have time for this? He looked at the clock—5:30 p.m. His shift at the warehouse would start in a few hours, but it was his first day off in weeks.

He clicked it. Register. The words on the screen seemed to burn into him.

The job market was changing, everyone said so. And Jamal could feel it. A year ago, when the warehouse had invested in a new automated sorting system, it had seemed like a victory. Everything was faster, more efficient. The company had even promised bonuses for the workers who helped with the transition. But then came the layoffs. Slowly, like a creeping shadow, …

The Threads of Fate | Chapter 9: The Final Confrontation

dehongi Jan. 25, 2025, 4:33 p.m.

The old man’s mind, worn and frail with time, was drawn to another chapter of his life, one filled with unresolved conflict, where pride had overruled the simple but profound power of forgiveness. He had once loved deeply, but in a moment of hurt and anger, he had let pride become his guide. The rift between them was sudden, sharp, and deep. No words of healing were spoken, and the wound had festered in silence for years, growing only more bitter with time.

It was a memory he had carried for far too long—the moment where pride had eclipsed the love he once felt. He could remember the exact words, the harshness in his voice, and the bitterness that had clouded his judgment. The decision had felt justified then—he had been wronged, or so he thought. The need to prove himself right, to maintain control over his emotions, had overridden …