Flash Stories

Between the Shelves

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

Lena hid in the library’s poetry section, pretending to read Neruda while her parents argued over the phone. She traced the lines of a love poem, wishing her own life had that kind of beauty—soft, simple, certain.

Across the aisle, Adam sat hunched over a tattered physics textbook. His father wanted him to be an engineer; Adam wanted to be anything else. The library was his escape, the only place where expectations didn't weigh him down.

They had seen each other before—silent nods exchanged between the aisles, shared glances over book spines. But today, as Lena sighed over her book, Adam finally spoke.

“Rough day?”

She looked up. His brown eyes held something gentle, something that said I get it.

“More like a rough life,” she admitted.

He smirked. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

For the first time in a long time, Lena didn’t feel alone.

That afternoon, they didn’t …

Library Grand Re-Opening Disaster

hamed Jan. 22, 2025, 9:14 p.m.

The doors of Oakwood Public Library swung open with the fanfare of a grand unveiling—at least, that’s how Marcy, the library director, had envisioned it. She had spent weeks planning the grand reopening, complete with a ribbon-cutting ceremony, speeches, free bookmarks, and a local choir to serenade the crowd with library-themed songs. She was sure it would be the talk of the town.

The only thing Marcy hadn’t planned for was everything else.

It began with the ribbons. As Marcy, clutching a comically large pair of scissors, prepared to cut the ceremonial ribbon, the overly eager assistant librarian, Greg, made a mad dash to pull the decorative bow out of the way. Unfortunately, his timing was slightly off. He yanked the wrong ribbon, sending a cascade of balloons—tied to the archway—straight into the air and tangling themselves in the overhead ceiling fan.

The crowd gasped, but Marcy, ever the professional, …

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 …

Forty Days of Silence

hamed Jan. 19, 2025, 6:56 p.m.

Mina sat in her sleek San Francisco apartment, her laptop open in front of her, yet her mind was nowhere near the task at hand. The glowing cursor on the screen flickered impatiently, as if daring her to focus. Emails piled up in her inbox—investors wanting updates, clients demanding answers, her assistant requesting decisions on the new product launch. But Mina had stopped listening. The noise, the constant hum of tasks, calls, and deadlines, had finally become too much.

She was burnt out. Completely, utterly burnt out. The world had kept spinning faster, and Mina had tried to keep up, sprinting ahead until her legs gave way.

A knock on the door interrupted her spiral of frustration. She glanced up, disoriented. The neighbor, Ms. Shirin, stood there with a warm smile, holding a basket of fresh figs in her hands.

"Figs for you, my dear. And... a suggestion," Shirin said, …

A Second Too Many

hamed Jan. 23, 2025, 6:27 p.m.

Ren adjusted the dials on the ChronoRing, the device humming softly against her wrist. She’d only ever used it for minor adjustments—skipping traffic jams, fixing a botched presentation, reliving a perfect date. But tonight, she was breaking all the rules.

She stood in the alley outside her apartment, heart pounding as she replayed the memory. Her brother’s face, pale and lifeless, the screech of tires, the sound of glass shattering. The accident had taken him two years ago. And tonight, it wouldn’t.

Ren took a deep breath and pressed the button.

The world around her shimmered, a wave of distortion washing over the alley. The air grew thick, her vision blurred, and for a moment, she felt like she was drowning in static.

Then it was over.

She stood on the same street, but it was daylight now, two years earlier. Across the road, she spotted her brother, Elias, headphones …

The Baby Debate

hamed Jan. 29, 2025, 6:24 p.m.

Zoey Harper was not pregnant. She wasn’t even remotely close to being pregnant. Yet, here she was, staring at her phone as the latest headline flashed across her screen: “Zoey Harper and Liam McAllister Expecting! A New Star is Born?”

Her fingers hovered over the screen, then she hit send on the text to Liam. “Seriously? A baby? Did I miss something?”

The reply was immediate: “I’m just as confused as you are.”

Zoey put her phone down, rubbing her temples. She had been at a photoshoot the day before, wearing a loose dress because it was hot as a sauna, and apparently, that was enough for the gossip mill to start churning. She couldn’t even post a picture of her lunch without it turning into “a subtle announcement about baby food.”

Her publicist, Grace, called just as she was about to finish a very sarcastic tweet. “Zoey, darling, we …

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 …

The Whisper in the Ice

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 6:03 p.m.

Dr. Elena Sokolov’s breath crystallized in the frigid air as she leaned over the ancient ice core in her Antarctic lab. The core had been drilled from depths untouched for millennia, its secrets hidden under the crushing weight of time. But now, in the sterile glow of LED lights, it spoke.

She adjusted her microscope and stared in disbelief at the anomalies in the ice layers—erratic chemical compositions, fragments of ancient microorganisms unlike anything cataloged before, and, most shocking of all, traces of isotopes that should not have existed in Earth's atmosphere 100,000 years ago.

The implications were staggering. These isotopes matched those generated by a nuclear reaction. But there was no nuclear technology back then. This could rewrite everything humanity knew about history—or expose a danger no one was ready to face.

Her satellite phone buzzed. It was Pavel, her husband, calling from Moscow. She ignored it.

Instead, she …

The Curse of Love and Immortality - Chapter 4: The Melancholy of Elnaz

dehongi Jan. 16, 2025, 12:10 p.m.

The king sat in silence for a moment, gazing at the flickering candlelight as if seeing another time, another place. The princess waited, sensing the weight of the tale he was about to share.
“Tonight,” he began softly, “I will tell you of Elnaz, the Pari who fell in love with a poet. Her story is one of beauty and sorrow, of words that wove their way into her immortal heart.”
The princess’s brow furrowed. “A poet? Did he write of her?”
The king smiled faintly. “Not at first. Elnaz lived in a secluded valley, far from human eyes. Her days were spent wandering among fields of wildflowers, her heart untouched by the fleeting lives of mortals. But one day, she heard something that stopped her in her tracks—a voice, soft and rich, reciting verses that seemed to carry the weight of the stars. She followed the sound and found him.”
The princess leaned …

The Last Harvest

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 4:31 p.m.

Jarek knelt in the moonlit field, his fingers trembling as they sifted through the soil. The earth was dry, cracked, and barely clinging to life—much like him. He’d worked in secret for months, stealing fertilizer from government warehouses and collecting rainwater in rusted barrels hidden behind his barn.

Natural farming had been outlawed a decade ago. The World Climate Accord had deemed it inefficient and destructive, replacing it with synthetic food factories that churned out flavorless sustenance. "For the planet," they’d said. But Jarek remembered what real food tasted like—warm tomatoes plucked straight from the vine, sweet corn kernels popping between his teeth. He remembered his father’s hands, caked in dirt, holding up a plump squash with pride.

Tonight, under the cover of darkness, the first shoots of his defiance were ready.

He wiped his brow, glancing at the sky. Drones patrolled the air, scanning for any signs of forbidden …