Flash Stories

Invisible Walls

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 6:17 p.m.

Zeke adjusted the AR goggles on his face, his fingers flying over the holographic interface as he programmed the final touches. The alley buzzed with activity, but no one noticed him standing there, seemingly tinkering with thin air. That was the beauty of his work—it only appeared to those he chose to see it.

Tonight’s piece was called Broken Chains, an enormous sculpture of glowing digital links shattering into fragments. It would hover at the city’s busiest intersection, visible only to immigrants and refugees who had registered their augmented reality IDs.

Zeke had become a legend in underground circles, known as the "Ghost Painter." His art wasn’t about gallery shows or corporate commissions. It was rebellion. His pieces were bold messages tailored to the overlooked: a blazing phoenix for underpaid teachers, a field of flowers that only children in foster care could see, and a black hole swallowing coins that …

The Shop of Bottled Dreams

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 6:58 p.m.

Raha had wandered through the labyrinthine lanes of the Tehran Grand Bazaar countless times, her feet brushing against the worn stones, her eyes absorbing the colors, sounds, and smells of a world older than her own. But today, as the sun dipped low, casting long shadows between the stalls, she noticed something strange—a small, unmarked door tucked in the farthest corner of the bazaar, hidden behind a tapestry of velvet fabrics and embroidered scarves. She hadn’t seen it before, though she’d passed this way hundreds of times.

Curiosity tugged at her, and she stepped closer, drawn to the soft golden light spilling out from beneath the door. With a hesitant breath, she pushed it open.

Inside was a small, quiet room, filled with the scent of jasmine and honey. On shelves, delicate glass bottles shimmered, each one holding a swirling mist of colors that seemed to shift and dance in …

The Quiet Connection

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 6:09 p.m.

I first noticed her during my Monday shift. Margaret Cooper, 78 years old, from a small town in Ohio. She signed in daily, like clockwork, to chat with our AI assistant, “Lex.” My job as a moderator was to skim through flagged interactions, ensuring Lex didn’t go off the rails. At first, Margaret’s chats didn’t stand out—simple, polite questions about recipes, weather updates, or gardening tips.

But over time, I realized she wasn’t using Lex like most people did. She wasn’t asking it for quick answers or trivia. She was… talking.

“Hi, Lex. I hope you’re having a good day. It’s raining here, and my arthritis is acting up. But I made my lemon bars. You’d love them if you could taste them. Do you like lemons?”

Lex, of course, replied as it was trained to: “Rainy days can be tough, Margaret. I’ve heard lemon bars are delightful! While I …

The Status Update

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 5:22 p.m.

Erica sat at her desk, staring at the screen of her computer, a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty swirling inside her. It was February 4, 2004, and Facebook had just launched. She had heard about it from a few friends in her dorm—this new site where college students could connect, share pictures, and post about their lives. It seemed like a novelty, something that might be fun for a few weeks before fizzling out. But there was a spark of intrigue that pulled her in.

She clicked through the simple registration page and added her profile details: Erica Miller, Sophomore at Penn. She uploaded a grainy picture from last weekend's party, smiling awkwardly with her friends. Her pulse quickened as she typed in her first status: "Feeling curious about this new thing called Facebook."

Within minutes, a notification pinged. Emily has added you as a friend.

Erica’s eyes widened. Emily …

Entangled

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 6:38 p.m.

Dr. Kian Vaziri stood before the quantum field generator, his fingers trembling as they hovered above the controls. The lab hummed with the low vibration of machinery, a comforting reminder of the world he understood. But in this moment, it was the unknown that pulsed through his veins—an elusive, intangible frontier.

The experiment had begun with a question—could entangled particles, once separated, influence each other instantaneously across vast distances? Could they, in some way, bypass the normal constraints of time and space? His research had been thorough, his methods precise. But there was always that whisper of uncertainty at the edge of discovery, like a shadow flickering in the corner of his mind.

He initiated the experiment.

The quantum field generator came to life, flickering with light, the particles in the lab dancing to a rhythm only the most sophisticated instruments could measure. Kian’s eyes narrowed, focusing on the data …

The Mirror of Seven Valleys

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 6:36 p.m.

Elias had seen many strange things in his years as an antique dealer, but nothing had prepared him for the discovery of the mirror. It was a heavy thing, framed in tarnished silver with intricate, swirling patterns that seemed to dance on the surface. When he first laid eyes on it, he felt an inexplicable pull, as if the mirror were calling to him from another time.

The dealer from whom he purchased it had spoken in vague terms, hinting at its age—"seven hundred years, at least"—and its mystical properties. “It does not show the face,” the old man had said, “but the soul.” Elias had laughed, thinking it was a sales pitch, but the mirror intrigued him nonetheless.

He brought it back to his shop, dusting it off and placing it carefully on the wall behind the counter. The glass shimmered with an otherworldly light, despite the dimness of …

The Silent Elevator

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 6:39 p.m.

The lights flickered and then died, plunging the elevator into darkness. A sudden, collective intake of breath echoed in the small space. The hum of the machinery, once a soft background noise, had gone silent. The faint glow from the emergency button cast eerie shadows on the walls, but nothing else moved.

For a moment, there was only the sound of everyone’s breathing, unsure whether to panic or remain still. Then, a voice broke the silence.

“Well,” a woman’s voice said, steady despite the situation. “This is certainly not how I planned to spend my afternoon.”

She chuckled lightly, and after a beat, a few others joined in. Slowly, the tension began to lift, replaced by the quiet, lingering discomfort of being stuck with strangers.

“Do you think they’ll fix it soon?” another voice asked, a young man with a tired tone.

“Maybe it’s a power outage,” the woman replied. …

Love Amidst Chaos

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 4:50 p.m.

The air was thick with tension as the debate raged on. Julian sat at the podium, eyes sharp, voice unwavering as he tore into his opponent’s policies. He was the youngest senator in the country’s history, ambitious, idealistic, and—until tonight—certain that his ideals were the only ones worth fighting for.

Across from him, Elena clenched her jaw, her fingers curling around the microphone. She was no less fierce, a rising star in her own right, a staunch conservative who had spent years building her platform on a foundation of discipline and tradition. They had been on opposing sides for as long as either could remember.

Tonight’s debate was the pinnacle of their rivalry. The country’s future hung in the balance, and they were each determined to emerge victorious. The public had been eagerly awaiting this moment, with polls and news outlets predicting an intense showdown.

Julian’s eyes flicked to Elena’s, …

Payload

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 6:12 p.m.

Jules adjusted their cap and swiped the screen of their controller, directing the drone to its next drop-off. It was a normal Tuesday in the city, the skyline humming with autonomous machines zipping between rooftops. Jules didn’t think much about the contents of the boxes they delivered—most were tech gadgets, groceries, or overpriced sneakers.

But this package was different.

The first clue was the weight. It felt heavier than its size suggested, the kind of weight that didn’t match coffee beans or wireless earbuds. The second was the delivery coordinates: an unmarked building in a quiet corner of the financial district. And when the drone reached the drop point, the receiving bay opened not to a human but to a robotic arm that snatched the package and disappeared without so much as a confirmation ping.

Weird, but not unheard of. Automation was everywhere.

Jules shrugged it off until the next …

The Cup of Echoes

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 6:26 p.m.

Leila leaned over the small ceramic cup, squinting at the swirling coffee grounds that clung to the bottom like dark, forgotten secrets. She had inherited her grandmother’s gift—or curse, depending on who you asked—a peculiar talent for reading coffee grounds. While others saw only stains and patterns, Leila glimpsed fragments of lives, emotions, and histories hidden in the rich, earthy shapes.

Her shop, nestled in an old quarter of Tehran, smelled of fresh coffee and aged wisdom. Patrons came for more than just caffeine—they came for answers, for glimpses into their futures. But Leila had always kept her own secret: she could see more than the future. She could see the past, too.

This afternoon, an elderly man entered, his wrinkled hands trembling as he set a small cup on the counter. His eyes were distant, as if he carried burdens that belonged to another era. Leila nodded and poured …