Flash Stories

The Yellow Zone

hamed Jan. 23, 2025, 6:20 p.m.

The sky above the Yellow Zone shimmered unnaturally, like the air itself was holding its breath. Hana adjusted her respirator, the seals hissing as she tightened them. The Geiger counter strapped to her chest chirped in steady, ominous intervals.

“This was a park,” the guide said, his voice crackling through her helmet’s comms system. “You can still see the swings if you squint.”

Hana peered through the visor at the skeletal remains of a playground, half-buried in dust. The swings swayed faintly in the poisoned wind, their chains rusted, their seats cracked.

“How long until it’s habitable again?” she asked.

The guide chuckled bitterly. “You’re optimistic. With current levels? Maybe two thousand years. Unless your company has a miracle up its sleeve.”

Her company—ArkTech Solutions—had built its name on technological interventions, claiming to fix what humanity had broken. Smart domes, hydroponic skyscrapers, and now, personal radiation shields. But no amount …

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 …

The Orb

hamed Jan. 20, 2025, 6:31 p.m.

The vast emptiness of space was peppered with glinting shards, remnants of humanity's ambitions: fractured satellites, discarded boosters, the flotsam of decades of exploration. For Rhea, a space debris cleanup specialist, it was just another day in the orbital scrapyard.

Her ship’s claw arm maneuvered deftly, snagging a defunct communications satellite spinning lazily through the void. She guided it toward the collection pod, her movements precise, mechanical. She was on the final sweep of her shift when her radar pinged.

“Uncatalogued object detected,” the AI chirped.

Rhea frowned. “Show me.”

The screen displayed a faint blip in a decaying orbit over the Atlantic. She adjusted course, curiosity piqued. Objects that weren’t logged were rare—space agencies tracked nearly everything up here.

As her ship approached, she caught sight of it through the viewport: a smooth, obsidian sphere, perfectly round and glinting with an unnatural sheen. It was unlike anything she’d ever …

The Coffee Shop Mystic

hamed Jan. 19, 2025, 6:40 p.m.

Samir had lived in Silicon Valley long enough to know the routine. Get up, code, debug, deploy, repeat. His life had become a series of neatly ordered lines of code, each day blending into the next. His routine was simple: wake up, grab a latte from the corner coffee shop, and head to the office to face the ever-increasing demands of the tech world.

But lately, there was something about the barista, Kian, that made Samir pause. Kian was always quiet, a man of few words, but his presence had a calmness that seemed to seep into the very air of the shop. His movements were fluid, precise, as if each action was a prayer or meditation. Samir often found himself watching, intrigued by the way Kian would carefully grind the beans, time the pour, and smile at the steam rising from the cup as if he were witnessing something …

Venice in Winter, With a Poet as Our Guide

hamed Jan. 27, 2025, 5:40 p.m.

In a land where the sky was blue and the mountains were ice-capped,
where nights had no shadows but pure nightness and stillness,
I found myself here, a traveler through the world so vast and strange.

The air was clear and smooth, with birdsong that spoke of year past,
a peal of caged birds in winter's stillness, yet it filled my heart.
A song that knew time differently, where day and night were both same.

Here I stood, a poem guide so true, walking through the streets,
a city I had never heard of before, where the seasons changed but not me.
The world was so different, each moment so easy, yet a mirror I saw.
A place where my heart felt as warm as a sun in winter's embrace.

And though the night did come cold with it, I found myself here,
in this land of beauty and truth, where I could find my way through.

"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 …

The Unexpected Ally

hamed Jan. 27, 2025, 6:44 p.m.

The red carpet was a battlefield, glittering with smiles and camera flashes. Celebrity drama swirled like smoke around the latest A-list dispute: Julia Monroe and Kate Rivers, Hollywood’s most talked-about actresses, were in the middle of a public feud. What started as a backstage disagreement on set had escalated to social media jabs, tabloid headlines, and interviews where each threw subtle but pointed remarks at the other.

Julia, known for her sharp wit and commanding presence, had called Kate “a diva” during a live interview. Kate, never one to back down, had posted a picture with the caption, “Some people just can’t handle being in the spotlight.”

The media lapped it up, creating a frenzy. Fans of both actresses chose sides, fueling the fire. The feud seemed like it would never end.

Then, at the prestigious gala where both Julia and Kate were expected to make appearances, something unexpected happened.

The Supportive Girlfriend

hamed Jan. 27, 2025, 6:38 p.m.

The cameras were relentless, their flashes turning the night into a strobe-lit spectacle. Ava adjusted her grip on Leo’s hand, squeezing it gently as they walked the red carpet. His first major premiere. Her hundredth.

Leo’s grip was clammy, his smile tight. He looked stunning in his designer suit, but Ava could feel the tension radiating off him. She leaned closer, whispering, “You’ve got this. Just breathe.”

The reporters shouted questions. “Ava! Over here! Are you two official?” “Leo, what’s it like dating one of the most famous women in the world?” “Ava, are you helping Leo’s career?”

Ava smiled serenely, ignoring the chaos, but Leo’s jaw clenched. He hated this part—the speculation, the invasive questions. He was an actor, not a tabloid headline.

Inside the theater, away from the cameras, Leo finally exhaled. “I don’t know how you do it,” he muttered, collapsing into a plush seat.

“Do what?” …

Filters and Frames

hamed Jan. 24, 2025, 6:56 p.m.

The notification lit up Zoey’s phone as she scrolled through her feed in bed: “Introducing Edits: Instagram’s New Video Creation App!”

She clicked on the banner without hesitation. For months, Zoey had been struggling to stand out in the endless sea of influencers. Every trend felt like a remix of the last, every video just a slightly shinier clone. Her followers were stagnating, her engagement dwindling.

But Edits promised something different: seamless transitions, AI-assisted effects, and tools to add cinematic flair with just a swipe. Zoey downloaded it immediately.

Within minutes, she was hooked. The app’s intuitive interface turned her phone into a miniature film studio. She shot a quick morning routine video, layering in slow zooms and playful transitions. When she added a dreamy filter and the app’s custom soundtrack, her mundane morning became a symphony of light, color, and rhythm.

She posted it with a simple caption: “Testing …

The Tariff Tango

hamed Jan. 22, 2025, 9:02 p.m.

At the International Trade Summit, held in a glitzy Vienna ballroom that smelled faintly of cigars and strained diplomacy, President Trumph strode to the podium. His signature red tie swung like a pendulum, warning of the chaos to come.

“I’m telling you,” Trumph began, pointing at the gathered delegates, “the EU’s been ripping us off for decades. Tariffs are coming, big ones. Huge ones. You won’t believe it!”

The French delegate, a silver-haired man named Jean-Claude, leaned over to whisper to his German counterpart. “Is he serious?”

“I think he is,” said Angela, sipping her mineral water with the calm of someone who’d seen worse. “Though I must admit, his economic theories are as unpredictable as his hair.”

Trumph jabbed his finger toward the Chinese delegation. “And you! Ten percent on imports if you don’t start playing fair!”

Ambassador Li smiled serenely. “Mr. President, we only play Go. You’re the …