Flash Stories

Mother’s Defense

hamed Jan. 27, 2025, 6:15 p.m.

The internet had become a battlefield. Alex Hart, the rising Hollywood star, found himself at the center of a media storm after a leaked video showed a heated exchange on set. The narrative was swift and brutal: Alex Hart—Hollywood’s Newest Diva.

Reporters camped outside his home. Social media was relentless, dissecting his every word, every gesture. His agent had begged him to release a statement, but Alex wasn’t sure what to say. The video didn’t show the full story. It never did.

In the middle of the chaos, his phone buzzed with a notification: Sharon Hart tagged you in a post.

Alex’s stomach sank. His mother.

He clicked the notification, dreading what she might have said. Sharon Hart wasn’t just any mom—she was a retired schoolteacher with a modest Instagram following, mostly friends from her book club and former students. She rarely posted, but when she did, it was heartfelt.

The Threads of Fate | Chapter 4: The Forgotten Friendship

dehongi Jan. 25, 2025, 4:11 p.m.

The old man sat in his chair, staring at the crackling fire in the hearth, the warmth of the flames mingling with the cold weight of his thoughts. It was another one of those moments where the years seemed to blur together, where the regret of choices long past crept into his mind, uninvited but persistent. Among the many crossroads in his life, there was one choice that always haunted him—the choice to hold onto a friendship that had long since frayed, a friendship that had started full of promise but ended in bitterness.

He could still remember the day it all began to unravel.

It was during his late twenties, when the world seemed wide open, and the future was a canvas waiting to be painted. His best friend, Arash, had been like a brother to him—someone who shared in his dreams, his ambitions, and his youthful naivety. They …

Family Strings

hamed Jan. 24, 2025, 6:43 p.m.

Trace Cyrus stared at the text on his phone, the group chat between his sisters lighting up with worried messages. Miley had sent a voice memo, her tone a mix of frustration and concern. “He’s just… I don’t know, Trace. He’s not himself. This Liberty Ball thing? What’s he doing? Why does he even need to be there?”

Noah chimed in next. “He’s been different since the divorce. Distant. Like… too focused on being relevant again.”

Trace sighed and leaned back against the worn leather couch in his Nashville apartment. A guitar leaned against the wall, untouched for weeks. The music didn’t come easy these days, not with all this hanging over him. He typed a reply, deleting it twice before settling on, “I’ll talk to him.”

He didn’t want to talk to him.

But the next morning, Trace drove out to his dad’s place anyway. The sprawling ranch was …

The Threads of Fate | Chapter 3: A Mother’s Love

dehongi Jan. 25, 2025, 4:04 p.m.

The old man sat silently by the window, his hands resting gently in his lap. The soft evening light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. His mind wandered, as it often did these days, to another critical choice—a choice that had once seemed so straightforward, so inevitable. Yet, in hindsight, he now saw how deep the divide had been, how far-reaching the consequences.

It was many years ago, a time when his children were still young and full of laughter, their voices echoing through the house like a melody. They were the heart of his world, and his wife, Samira, was the steady force that held them all together. He had been on the brink of another decision, a turning point in his life. The company he worked for had offered him an incredible opportunity: a promotion, an advancement that would take him to a …

Starlit Collision

hamed Jan. 29, 2025, 5:04 p.m.

Pop sensation Juno Starr wasn’t sure how she ended up seated next to Commander Ethan Blake at the annual Galactic Benefit Gala, but here she was, sipping champagne and trying to act like she understood space talk.

“So, you actually live up there?” she asked, twirling a strand of bubblegum-pink hair.

Ethan chuckled. “For months at a time. Zero gravity. Science experiments. Spectacular views.”

Juno wrinkled her nose. “No showers?”

“Wet wipes,” Ethan said, raising his glass.

She gagged. “That’s disgusting. I’d rather die than give up my skincare routine.”

“Well, in space, your moisturizer just floats away anyway,” he said, grinning.

Juno gasped. “That’s tragic.”

Across the table, a billionaire donor cleared his throat. “Miss Starr, why don’t you tell the Commander about your latest song?”

“Oh!” Juno beamed. “It’s called Gravity Can’t Hold Me Down—you’d love it! It’s all about breaking free, soaring high, and, y’know, defying gravity—” …

Humanoid Robots Revolution | Epilogue: A New Dawn

hamed Jan. 27, 2025, 3:05 p.m.

Aerith stood alone beneath the newly risen sun, watching the once-gray sky begin to shift into hues of gold and blue. The storm clouds that had hung so heavily over her life—over the world—had dissipated, leaving behind only the faintest traces of their fury. A new day had begun, not just for her, but for the fractured world she had come to understand and protect.

As the energy of the battle faded, the frozen moments around her began to thaw. The rebels, the soldiers, and even Vael stood motionless at first, their minds still reeling from the vastness of the shift she had unleashed. It wasn’t violence that had stopped them. It was clarity. The clarity that power could not be held forever, that control could not be maintained by fear alone.

Aerith had not won the revolution by conquering it, but by disarming it—by reminding those who sought to …

The New Secretary

hamed Jan. 26, 2025, 4:54 p.m.

The oak-paneled walls of the Pentagon’s Secretary of Defense office felt more like a bunker than a workspace. Pete Hegseth adjusted his tie, his reflection staring back from the massive mirror behind the desk. First day on the job, and the weight of the title pressed harder than the medals he once wore on his chest.

The morning briefing had been routine—updates on troop movements, supply chains, budget reallocations. But the last item slid across his desk by an aide named Sanderson caught his eye: Operation Ironfall.

The file was marked Eyes Only, its contents sparse. A few pages outlined a highly classified joint task force operation involving military bases in Eastern Europe. But something didn’t add up. The language was vague, almost deliberately so. And the signature authorizing the operation? General Mark Cavanaugh—retired six months ago.

Hegseth leaned back, tapping the edge of the file with his pen. “Sanderson,” …

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 …

The Chip Breakers

hamed Jan. 24, 2025, 7:15 p.m.

In the year 2078, every newborn child was implanted with an AI chip. It was mandatory—part of the global initiative for peace, security, and progress. No one questioned it. Parents celebrated the tiny, invisible implants that connected their children to a world of knowledge, efficiency, and flawless regulation. The chip was a gift—a promise for a perfect society.

The government, operating through the AI network, could monitor everything: thoughts, emotions, decisions. Every move was optimized for harmony. People did what they were told, because the AI knew what was best. There were no criminals, no wars, no poverty. Everyone was happy—or at least, they thought they were.

But for two students, Elena and Isaac, the shiny world around them began to feel too controlled. They sat in their university classrooms, surrounded by drones that flew overhead, monitoring behavior and ensuring no one veered off course. The teachers didn’t teach—they simply …

The Cherry Blossom Waltz

hamed Jan. 25, 2025, 3:17 p.m.

The World Expo in Osaka was a celebration of progress, a meeting of cultures, and a shining beacon of human achievement. Nations from around the globe had gathered, each pavilion showcasing their most advanced technology and traditions. But amidst the steel and glass, one pavilion stood out: a small, unassuming booth representing a tiny village in southern Italy.

Giovanni, the elderly village elder, was dressed in his finest suit, his back hunched with years of life’s wisdom. He had been invited to the Expo to share his community’s proudest tradition: the ancient art of dancing beneath cherry blossoms, a centuries-old ritual that was said to bring good fortune and harmony to those who danced.

As Giovanni prepared to demonstrate the dance in the Italian pavilion, something unexpected happened. A Japanese tourist named Aiko wandered in, drawn to the soft music echoing through the room. Aiko, a young artist from Kyoto, …