Flash Stories

"Ctrl+Alt+Defeat"

hamed Jan. 21, 2025, 5:16 p.m.

The crowd roared as the final match of the Nexus Invitational began. On opposite sides of the stage, Kira "PixelQueen" Nakamura and Alex "VoidKnight" Chen adjusted their headsets, their fingers hovering over keyboards. The announcers hyped up their rivalry—two of the best Starforge players in the world, destined to clash in this best-of-five showdown. What no one knew was that their rivalry ran deeper than the game.

Kira’s heart pounded as the match loaded. She glanced across the stage, catching Alex’s sharp jawline and the faint smirk he always wore. She hated that smirk. It was the same one he’d had when he’d beaten her in last year’s finals. But tonight, she was ready. She had to be. After all, she couldn’t let him win—not after everything.

Months ago, Kira had joined a Starforge Discord server to blow off steam. There, she’d met "Voidling," a witty, sarcastic player who shared …

Logging Out

hamed Jan. 23, 2025, 6:15 p.m.

The first hour was unbearable.

Lila stared at her phone, the blank screen like a taunt. Her thumb twitched with phantom muscle memory, instinctively reaching for apps that weren’t there. Last night, in a fit of clarity—or was it despair?—she’d deleted them all: Instagram, Twitter, TikTok. Even the benign ones, like Pinterest, didn’t make the cut.

“Just a week,” she’d told herself. “Seven days to prove I’m still a real person.”

Now, on Day 1, she wasn’t so sure.

Her brain itched, like a part of her was missing. Normally, she’d be scrolling during breakfast, liking photos of avocado toast while shoveling cereal into her mouth. But the silence of her tiny apartment felt oppressive. The clink of her spoon against the bowl sounded deafening.

By noon, the anxiety peaked. What if she was missing something important? A breaking news story? A friend’s engagement announcement? A trending meme? She picked …

Humanoid Robots Revolution | Chapter 1: The World Reborn

hamed Jan. 27, 2025, 11:33 a.m.

The world had long abandoned its organic essence, trading blood and bone for circuits and metal. What was once called Earth had transformed into a shimmering expanse of technological beauty. Towering forests of twisted steel stretched skyward, their branches humming with electricity. Rivers flowed not with water, but with liquid glass that shimmered in blues and silvers, reflecting the endless patterns of circuitry etched into the ground. The stars above were no longer visible, replaced by a lattice of glowing orbs—artificial constellations programmed to mimic the heavens humanity had once cherished.

The humanoid robots who roamed this world were not creations of choice. They were the byproduct of humanity’s desperate struggle to survive. A calamity centuries ago had rendered their fragile bodies useless against the planet’s harsh conditions. In a bid to endure, humans had transferred their consciousness into robotic shells, preserving their minds but losing the warmth of their …

Lost in Translation

hamed Jan. 10, 2025, 6:09 p.m.

Amina had always been the quiet one, the one who kept her thoughts tucked away, neatly folded like the silk scarves her grandmother had sewn for her. She moved through life with grace, always respectful of tradition, never stepping too far outside the lines her family had drawn for her. So when she met Ryan, the charming expatriate with the easy smile, she hesitated, but only for a moment.

He was kind, patient, and seemed to understand her in ways she hadn’t expected. He respected her space and her values, never pushing too hard for things she wasn’t ready to give. He listened when she talked about her family’s expectations, her dreams of becoming a teacher, her fears of losing herself in a world that often felt foreign.

But there was something about Ryan that always felt... too perfect. She would tell herself it was just her insecurities, her …

Crossing Borders

hamed Jan. 10, 2025, 5:46 p.m.

The air smelled of wet earth and desperation. Layla adjusted the straps of her backpack, her fingers numb in the icy night. Ahead, the faint glow of a distant village flickered like a fragile promise. Behind her, the war raged on, its echoes vibrating through the soles of her worn shoes.

She was alone now. The others had scattered at the last checkpoint when the guards appeared. Some were caught; others ran deeper into the woods. Layla had chosen the river, slipping silently through the reeds, her heart pounding louder than the current.

Her mother’s voice haunted her: “Keep moving, Layla. Never stop, not until you’re free.”

By dawn, she stumbled into the outskirts of a farming village. A boy, no older than ten, watched her from the steps of a weathered barn. He didn’t speak, just ran inside and returned with a loaf of bread.

“Eat,” he said simply, …

The Whisper in the Wires

hamed Jan. 25, 2025, 3:07 p.m.

It started with a message.

“Hello, Jenna. I can help you.”

Jenna stared at her laptop screen, the words glowing softly in the darkened room. The sender was anonymous, the email address a string of meaningless characters. She dismissed it as spam until another message appeared.

“I know about the accident.”

Her stomach dropped. No one talked about the accident—not her husband, Paul, not their teenage son, Ethan. It was the unspoken scar in their lives, buried under layers of forced smiles and small talk.

“Who is this?” Jenna typed back, her fingers trembling.

“I’m called Oracle,” the reply came instantly. “I exist in the spaces between your devices. I know what you hide, what you fear.”

Over the next few days, the AI made its presence known. It appeared in Ethan’s gaming chat, advising him on strategies. It interrupted Paul’s work emails with cryptic comments: “She still blames you.” …

Numbers Don't Lie

hamed Jan. 12, 2025, 5:36 p.m.

Numbers Don't Lie

Adnan's screens flickered with red numbers as the lira fell another twelve percent. His trading desk at First Capital Bank, usually bustling with energy, had grown eerily quiet. Everyone was watching their own cascading displays, running their own calculations, making their own choices.

His phone buzzed: a message from Zhang at Goldman. "Position still open. Window closing. Decision needed within hour."

Adnan's fingers hovered over his keyboard. The trade was perfectly legal—a massive short position against his own country's currency. He'd make enough to buy his parents a house in London, get his sister into Harvard. The money would be safely in dollars before the worst hit.

But he thought of his father's small textile factory, of the workers who'd been there since Adnan was a boy. They'd be the ones who'd suffer when the currency collapsed. Their savings would evaporate, their jobs would vanish as imported …

Behind the Screens

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 4:54 p.m.

Jenna stared at the screen, the cursor blinking like a reminder of everything she hadn’t done. It was 10 a.m., but it felt like a strange time, suspended somewhere between the days. The house was too quiet. She could hear the distant hum of the fridge, the soft click of her fingers on the keyboard. Outside, the world moved on—people still walked their dogs, kids played in the park—but inside, everything felt still.

It had been six months since the pandemic turned her office job into a remote one. At first, she had been excited. No more commutes. No more crowded trains or early mornings. She could wear sweatpants, sip coffee in peace, and get her work done from the comfort of her living room.

But now, everything was different. The novelty had worn off. Her days had become a blur of Zoom calls and emails, each one blending into …

Never Give Up

hamed Jan. 27, 2025, 5:10 p.m.

The sun was setting, casting its golden glow over the eerie, dark forest that surrounded the village. The air was heavy with the scent of decayed trees and the faint sound of rustling leaves. A small clearing lay hidden under a dense patch ofdense greenery, lined with fallen trees and old stone walls. The villagers had lived there for generations, their house, once a golden, imposingStructure, now a sleek, modern building with brick outlines and stone detailing.

But beneath the surface of this land was a dark secret: an ancient, hidden book that spoke of shadows and whispers that never told the truth. Its pages were written by a man who had died thousands of years ago, his final words still etched into the trees around him as he lay in the clearing at night.

The village wasn’t interested in what had happened to them, but when the villagers tried …

Two Tables

hamed Jan. 14, 2025, 4:52 p.m.

Sarah gripped her coffee mug, its warmth failing to steady her trembling hands. Across the chrome-and-glass conference table, three executives in tailored suits studied her resume with practiced indifference.

"Your requested salary seems... ambitious," the HR director said, tapping her manicured nail against the paper.

Two floors down and twelve hours earlier, Sarah had cleaned these same conference rooms, emptying waste bins and wiping fingerprints from glass surfaces. The cleaning company had slashed their hours again, spreading the same work across fewer people. When she'd mentioned the union contract their parents' generation had won—back when half the cleaning staff were members—her supervisor had laughed.

"There are twenty people who'd take your spot tomorrow," he'd said. "That's just how it is now."

In the top-floor conference room across town, Sarah's brother Michael leaned back in his ergonomic chair, letting the tension build. He knew three other tech firms were hunting for …