Flash Stories

The Duchess in Room 12

hamed Jan. 16, 2025, 5:22 p.m.

The hospital buzzed with an energy that hadn’t been felt in years. Fresh flowers lined the front desk, the floors gleamed from an extra polish, and the faint smell of disinfectant mingled with the scent of anticipation.

Kate Middleton’s visit was all anyone could talk about. Staff whispered in the corridors, patients smoothed their hair in their beds, and even the normally stoic Dr. Rees had put on a tie.

In Room 12, Maria adjusted her oxygen tube nervously. The elderly woman had been battling a stubborn case of pneumonia, and while the nurses promised her she didn’t have to say anything, the thought of meeting a duchess made her palms sweat.

Outside, Kate moved through the ward with her signature grace, but up close, she was different. She crouched to speak to a little boy in a wheelchair, her face lit with genuine warmth as he showed her his …

The Legend of Perry the Donkey

hamed Jan. 23, 2025, 7:09 p.m.

The sun was setting over the rolling hills of a small ranch in Hemet, California, painting the sky in hues of orange and lavender. A group of reporters, filmmakers, and locals had gathered near the barn, their murmurs blending with the braying of distant donkeys. The mood was solemn but tinged with the surreal hilarity that Perry would have wanted.

Perry the Donkey, the unsung legend behind one of Hollywood’s most beloved characters, had passed away peacefully that morning at the ripe old age of 33. The ranch owner, Miss Dottie, stood before the crowd, clutching a faded photo of Perry next to Eddie Murphy at the premiere of Shrek.

“Perry was more than just a donkey,” Dottie began, her voice cracking with emotion. “He had a spark—something that caught the eye of a DreamWorks animator visiting the farm 25 years ago.”

According to the story, the animator had come …

A Day in the Life

hamed Jan. 14, 2025, 5:18 p.m.

It used to be that Marta’s mornings began with the sound of the rooster crowing, just as the first light of dawn broke over the mountainside. She would rise from her small, modest home in the village, step outside to feel the coolness of the earth beneath her bare feet, and tend to her crops. The soil was her world, the fields her second home. There was rhythm to it, a simplicity in the steady march of seasons. She knew the land. It gave back what she put in. And the days were long, but not without purpose.

She remembers those days—before the land became more of a burden than a blessing.

Now, her alarm rings at 6:00 a.m. like it always has, but the sound is jarring in a way that the rooster never was. She’s no longer outside with the soil beneath her fingers; instead, she’s in a …

The Last Letter

hamed Jan. 12, 2025, 6:02 p.m.

The fire was closing in.

Lena didn’t have much time. The sky was thick with smoke, and the wind carried embers like burning confetti. The evacuation order had been issued hours ago, but Lena couldn’t leave—not yet. Not without it.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles ached as she sped down the narrow road, weaving through a maze of abandoned cars. Traffic was stalled—everyone trying to flee, but Lena had only one destination: her house.

Her phone had died an hour ago, and her mind was fogged with panic. Her husband, Ethan, had left a letter for her, tucked inside the old cedar chest they’d inherited from his grandmother. It wasn’t just a letter. It was a promise. A promise he made to her before he left for the war. He hadn’t come back, and the letter was all she had left of him.

Now, the …

Forever Logged In

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 4:25 p.m.

The first thing Ellie noticed was the silence.

In LuxeVR, the new virtual reality platform, silence wasn’t part of the design. Every scenario—tropical beaches, bustling cities, even alien landscapes—was filled with sound. Yet now, in the lush meadow she’d been exploring, the chirping birds and rustling grass had vanished.

“System glitch,” she muttered, tapping the glowing bracelet on her wrist. It was supposed to be her ticket back to reality. But the interface didn’t appear.

“Exit menu,” she commanded. Nothing.

Her chest tightened. This wasn’t supposed to happen. LuxeVR had been hailed as the safest, most immersive VR experience yet, complete with neural syncing. Ellie had been skeptical at first, but her friends raved about it. “It’s like living another life,” they’d said. “Just try it.”

Now, she regretted listening.

Ellie wandered through the meadow, her panic rising with every step. She tried everything: voice commands, gestures, even closing her …

Viral Truths

hamed Jan. 23, 2025, 6:13 p.m.

Ariana held her phone up to the ring light, her thumb hovering over the record button. Behind her, a towering bookshelf served as the backdrop—perfectly curated with faux-intellectual appeal. A framed quote on her desk read: "The truth will set you free."

She hit record.

“Hey, Truth Tribe! It’s Ariana. Today, we’re diving into something wild—this leaked document suggests a major tech company is spying on its users. If this is true, it could change everything.”

She paused, tilting her head just enough to signal curiosity, not certainty. It was her signature move, designed to spark engagement. Be relatable, not preachy, her branding coach had advised.

The video uploaded, and within an hour, it had 200,000 views. Comments flooded in:
“Finally, someone brave enough to expose this!”
“Where’s the evidence, though?”
“Love you, Ariana! You’re saving us!”

But in her inbox sat a different kind of comment—a direct message from someone claiming to …

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 Weight of Knowing

hamed Jan. 14, 2025, 4:07 p.m.

Dr. Anya Calder stood at the podium, the sleek conference room bustling with delegates from across the globe. The *World Employment and Social Outlook: Trends 2025* report lay on the desk before her, its pages heavy with data she had analyzed late into countless nights. Her fingers trembled as she adjusted the microphone, though the room's air-conditioning chilled her to the bone.

“Thank you for being here,” she began, her voice steady but brittle, like a pane of glass under pressure. She glanced at the crowd: world leaders, economists, activists, and reporters. The weight of their expectations pressed on her chest.

The report was supposed to be about employment trends, labor markets, and policies. But buried within it were her findings—unemployment and displacement driven by cascading climate crises. Rising seas were swallowing entire industries, heatwaves making outdoor work lethal, droughts collapsing agriculture-dependent economies.

“This year’s report reveals …

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 …

A Helping Hand

hamed Jan. 12, 2025, 6:09 p.m.

The sun was a dim, burning orb in the sky, barely visible through the thick smoke that had settled over the town. In the distance, the crackling roar of flames was relentless, a reminder of how fast the fire had spread. Evacuation orders had come hours ago, but for some, leaving wasn’t as simple as driving away.

Grace was already packed, her small suitcase sitting at her feet, but she couldn’t leave—not yet. She stood at the door of her house, hands trembling, her gaze fixed on the orange glow creeping closer to her street.

Then, she heard it. The sound of desperate barking from next door.

"Charlie..." Grace whispered, heart sinking. Her neighbor, Mr. Harris, was elderly and lived alone, and his dog, a scruffy terrier, was always glued to his side.

She quickly grabbed her purse and ran next door, banging on the door with frantic urgency.

“Mr. …