Flash Stories

The Vanishing Feed

hamed Jan. 17, 2025, 1:36 p.m.

Sienna woke up to the same ritual she had followed for years: reaching for her phone before her eyes fully opened. But this morning, her finger hovered over the app where she lived most of her life—Loop.

Except the icon was gone.

She blinked, panic immediately replacing her sleepiness. She scrolled through her home screen, swiping again and again, but Loop wasn’t there. A quick search confirmed it wasn’t just her phone. It was trending everywhere—or, rather, nowhere. Loop had vanished. No warning, no explanation.

Sienna’s first instinct was disbelief. Then grief. She’d spent years curating her life for her 1.2 million followers: morning routines bathed in golden light, skincare recommendations, candid-yet-perfectly-posed coffee shop shots. Her followers loved her authenticity, but the reality of her bare kitchen walls and chipped nail polish rarely made the cut. Without Loop, she wasn’t sure who she was anymore.

Her inbox flooded with frantic …

The Curse of Love and Immortality - Chapter 10: The Hidden Truth

dehongi Jan. 16, 2025, 12:19 p.m.

The princess sat still, her eyes fixed on her father. His voice had grown softer as the tales had unfolded, each one wrapping its tragic beauty around the heart of the story they were telling. But as the candlelight flickered and the evening deepened, a silence fell between them, a heaviness in the air that seemed to speak of something far more personal, far more profound.
The king leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant as though lost in the long corridors of his memories. The princess had been silent for some time, her heart heavy with the weight of the stories she had heard. But now, there was a question hanging in the air, one that had lingered in her thoughts through every chapter they had shared.
"Father," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "you’ve told me of so many Paris, of their sacrifices, of their love for …

The Curse of Love and Immortality - Chapter 9: The Sorrows of Mahin

dehongi Jan. 16, 2025, 12:15 p.m.

The princess’s gaze was steady as the king began the tale, her mind already grasping the thread of sorrow woven into the words that followed. The flickering candlelight cast shadows on the walls, echoing the gravity of the king’s voice.
“This is the tale of Mahin, a Pari whose love was bound to a prince whose heart was torn by war,” the king began, his voice heavy with the weight of the story. “Mahin’s beauty was unmatched, her hair a dark cascade of night, and her eyes as bright as the first stars that appeared in the twilight sky. Yet, it was not her beauty that set her apart, but her compassion for the world’s suffering.”
The princess sat forward, her brow furrowed. "What do you mean, Father? What suffering did Mahin see?"
The king looked at her, his gaze full of sorrow. "Mahin’s life was one of peace and quiet joy, until …

A Flower in Space

hamed Jan. 16, 2025, 6:05 p.m.

The hum of the spacecraft’s systems was the only sound as Commander Emma Harris and her crew drifted silently in the vast expanse of space. They were millions of miles from Earth, orbiting in the silence of the cosmos. The distant stars and the swirling blue of Earth below seemed to mock the stillness of their confined world.

Emma sat by the small hydroponic garden, her gloved fingers gently adjusting the life-supporting system that nurtured the tiny flower growing in its container. It was the first successful plant to bloom on the station, the culmination of months of experiments and failures. The flower, a simple zinnia, was the first testament to life flourishing in the vacuum of space.

“Can you believe it?” Lieutenant Marcos Alvarez’s voice broke through the quiet, his voice soft yet full of wonder. He floated nearby, his gaze fixed on the delicate petals that had slowly …

A Letter to G.H. Hardy

hamed Jan. 16, 2025, 6:06 p.m.

Srinivasa Ramanujan sat in the dim light of his small room in Kumbakonam, his hand trembling slightly as he dipped the quill into the ink. The weight of the paper before him felt impossibly heavy, though it was no thicker than any other sheet he had written on. He stared at the blank page for a long moment, the words caught between his heart and his mind, unsure how to bridge the gap between his passion and the world he was about to reach out to.

He was no stranger to the vastness of mathematics. To him, numbers weren’t just symbols on a page; they were living, breathing things, a language of the universe he had been listening to since childhood. But it had never been easy. His education had been fragmented, his talent unrecognized by those around him. For years, he had worked alone, writing out formulas and theorems …

The Final Stretch

hamed Jan. 16, 2025, 5:20 p.m.

The locker room was silent, save for the rhythmic hum of fluorescent lights. Emma sat on the bench, staring at her running shoes, their neon laces glowing faintly under the harsh light. The weight on her chest felt heavier than her legs after a grueling sprint.

Outside, the stadium roared—thousands of voices chanting her name. Emma. Emma. Emma.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the noise. Tomorrow’s headline was already written: “Emma Carter: America’s Golden Girl.” The pressure pressed down like a vice. Everyone expected her to win, to shatter records, to be perfect.

“Five minutes,” a voice called from the doorway.

Emma nodded without looking up. Her coach had stopped giving pep talks—she didn’t need them. Or so everyone thought.

Her phone buzzed on the bench. A text from her mom: “You’ve got this, sweetheart. Make us proud.”

She wanted to scream. To throw the phone against …

A Child of Promise

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 4:43 p.m.

The January air in Atlanta was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine from the hills beyond the city. In a modest two-story house on Auburn Avenue, the cries of a newborn broke the stillness. Alberta King leaned back against the bed, her face glistening with sweat and tears, but her smile radiant with relief.

“He’s here,” the midwife whispered, carefully wrapping the baby in a soft cotton cloth. “A strong boy, Mrs. King.”

Beside her, Reverend Martin Luther King Sr. cradled the child, his broad hands trembling as they held the fragile, wriggling bundle. The boy’s cry was sharp and insistent, a voice that refused to be ignored. “He’s got some lungs on him,” the Reverend chuckled, though his eyes shone with unshed tears.

“What shall we name him?” Alberta asked, her voice soft but steady.

“Martin,” the Reverend said, after a moment of thought. “After me. After the …

Wall Street Exodus

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 4:21 p.m.

The email hit Andrew’s inbox at 9:03 AM, marked URGENT: “Effective immediately, GreenWave Investments will halt all ESG initiatives to refocus on core profitability.”

He stared at the words, numb. Just last week, he’d given a presentation on the firm’s commitment to sustainability, citing how their green portfolio had reduced carbon emissions by 20% while delivering steady returns. The applause had been polite, but now he realized it was hollow.

In the break room, the whispers were deafening. "It’s the market," someone said. "Investors want quick wins, not greenwashing."

But Andrew couldn’t let it go. He had joined GreenWave two years ago, driven by the promise of impact investing—real change paired with real returns. Now, it felt like he’d sold his soul to the highest bidder.

“Andrew, we need to talk,” his boss, Marcy, said, leaning against the doorway to his cubicle. Her smile was forced, her voice low. “You’re …

A Curtain Divides the World - Chapter 10: "Breaking the Divide"

dehongi Jan. 17, 2025, 6:46 p.m.

As Arash stood at the threshold of his room, he couldn’t help but smile. The walls of his home—no longer just a house, but now a place of change—felt different. There was an energy in the air, a small but noticeable shift that he couldn’t quite put into words. But it was there, lingering, like the faintest trace of something new on the horizon.
The night before, the conversation with his parents had been a victory. They weren’t completely on board with every radical change he suggested, but they were open. They had seen enough to understand that the world they had built around him was perhaps a little too narrow. Too protective. Too… segregated. And, more importantly, they saw that Arash wasn’t going to let it stay that way. He wasn’t alone anymore in his questioning. His entire school, his community, was slowly starting to wake up to the fact …

A Curtain Divides the World - Chapter 6: "A Recipe for Trouble"

dehongi Jan. 17, 2025, 6:43 p.m.

Arash was lounging on the living room sofa, scrolling through his phone, when his mother’s voice pierced the air like a dagger.
“Arash, come to the kitchen. Now.”
Her tone was one he’d learned to fear—it wasn’t angry, but it was firm, the kind that brooked no argument.
He groaned, dragging himself off the couch. “What did I do now?”
“You’re sixteen,” his mother declared as he entered the kitchen, hands on her hips. “You’re old enough to learn how to cook.”
Arash blinked at her. “Cook? Me?”
“Yes, you,” she replied, already pulling out pots and pans. “One day, you’ll need this skill. What if you’re hungry and there’s no one to cook for you?”
“Mom, that’s what restaurants are for. Or instant noodles.”
Her glare was enough to silence him. “No son of mine is going to rely on instant noodles. You’re learning to cook. End of discussion.”
She handed him an apron, which he stared at …