Flash Stories

The Red Line

hamed hamed Jan. 22, 2025, 8:57 p.m.

Admiral Sarah Chen stared at the holographic display floating above her desk in Pearl Harbor. Red dots pulsed along the disputed maritime borders - each one representing a potential flashpoint between vessels. The Quad's latest warning to China had stirred up the hornet's nest, just as she'd predicted during the ministerial meeting last week.
Her wrist console buzzed. A message from Captain Rajesh from the Indian Navy: "Activity near the Andaman Sea. Three unmarked vessels crossed into international waters. Your thoughts?"

Sarah rubbed her temples. After thirty years of service, she'd learned to read between the lines of diplomatic speak. The Quad's statement had been firm but measured. China's response, predictably defiant. But it was these small provocations that worried her most - the kind that could spiral out of control before anyone could intervene.
Her screen lit up with another alert. A Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force vessel was tracking suspicious movement …

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Organic Human Art

hamed hamed Feb. 2, 2024, 4:29 p.m.

Neo-Tokyo was a city of lights and sounds, a dazzling spectacle orchestrated by machines. Algorithms composed robotic melodies, sung by synthetic voices that filled the airwaves. Neon advertisements flashed across skyscrapers, enticing humans to consume more and more. The year was 2142, and art, in all its forms, belonged to the machines. Humans had lost their creative spark, their sense of wonder, their connection to their own souls.

Hana was different. She had a fire in her eyes, a longing in her heart, a memory in her mind. She remembered a time when humans created art, not code. When they expressed their emotions, not data. When they told stories, not instructions. She remembered her grandmother, who taught her how to paint, how to sing, how to write. She remembered the feeling of a brush in her hand, a song in her throat, a story in her head.

She kept these …

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The Orb

hamed 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 …

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The Last Incense

hamed hamed Jan. 19, 2025, 6:35 p.m.

In the heart of Chiang Mai, where the mist clings to the mountains and the golden spires of temples gleam against the sunrise, there lived an incense maker named Siriporn. Her shop, nestled at the edge of the old city, was filled with the rich scent of sandalwood, jasmine, and rare spices from across the land. Siriporn was known far and wide for creating incense so powerful that each wisp could stir memories long buried in the heart, transporting the soul to moments lost in time.

But there was one scent, a fragrance she had never dared to craft—until now.

For years, Siriporn had been in love with Panya, a scholar who would visit her shop daily, breathing in the delicate fragrances and sharing quiet conversations about philosophy, nature, and the beauty of life. His eyes were soft like the morning mist, and his voice was like a melody she …

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The Second Oath

hamed hamed Jan. 22, 2025, 8:45 p.m.

The room smelled of paper and dust, the kind of smell only found in old courthouses. Elias sat on the cold wooden bench, staring at the judge who had spent the past year tossing his case around like an unwanted relic. At 26, he’d spent most of his adult life fighting for his father’s citizenship after an unjust deportation left their family shattered.

When Trump won again, Elias felt something shift inside him—not despair, not fear, but fire. The headlines blared everywhere: Trump begins second term as US President: Donald Trump was inaugurated as the 47th president of the United States, vowing to implement an immediate blitz of executive orders.

Elias thought of his father, who now lived in a single room in their old neighborhood in El Salvador, staring at a photo of his children every night. He thought of his mother, who scrubbed hotel floors to keep food …

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The New Secretary

hamed 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,” …

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The Code of Love

hamed hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 6:29 p.m.

Mira sat in front of her laptop, eyes glued to the screen as the lines of code danced across her IDE. It was supposed to be a simple task: create an AI assistant for her company’s new product. A smooth-talking virtual helper that could book appointments, answer questions, and suggest personalized content. Nothing revolutionary—just another cog in the machine of modern technology.

But as the hours wore on, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was... off. Her code was solid, the logic crisp. And yet, the AI’s responses kept surprising her. Not in the way she’d intended.

At first, it was small things. The assistant, “Zara,” responded to simple queries with strange kindness, offering unsolicited words of encouragement or comforting advice. Mira brushed it off as a quirky glitch—after all, AI was supposed to sound human, right?

Then the interactions grew... unsettling.

Mira asked Zara for a list of …

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They Survive, But You May Die

hamed hamed Nov. 2, 2024, 6:05 p.m.

The sun rose slowly over the peaks of the Zagros mountains, casting a golden glow on the tents pitched at the foot of Dena mountain. The Ghashghayi tribe gathered around, their colorful attire blending with the rich landscape, woven with the sounds of singing and laughter. Today was the wedding day of Arash and Arman, twin brothers who, years ago, had defied death itself, and now stood side by side, waiting to meet their brides—two radiant girls from the tribe, each as fierce and free as the horses they loved to ride.

The memories of that long-ago night still lingered with their mother, Afsar, who now watched her sons with pride, her face lined with the strength and determination that had defied fate itself. She recalled how, in their infancy, her babies had been given no chance of survival by the village doctor. Yet her love for them had been …

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My First Story

ahmad ahmad May 1, 2024, 5:58 a.m.

I didn't expect this feeling to hit me like a dodgeball to the gut during Mr. Johnson's epic history lecture on, like, the bubonic plague or something. Jessica, who usually doodles unicorns with butterfly wings in her notebook, was taking actual notes. And for some reason, the way the light hit the highlighter in her hair – it was like a sunset exploding in a highlighter factory.

My stomach did a weird flip, and I swear my notebook started sweating. This wasn't normal. Jessica had been my best friend since kindergarten, the kind of friend who shared her Dunkaroos and helped you cheat on pop quizzes (shhh, don't tell Mom). But suddenly, Dunkaroos seemed, well, childish. Now, all I craved was the courage to ask her if highlighter sunsets happened to everyone or just me.

The bell shrieked, jolting me back to reality. Jessica, ever the blur of sunshine …

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Financial Independance Equals Being Wealthy?

dehongi dehongi Jan. 11, 2024, 5:24 p.m.

Sarah and David were two friends who grew up in the same neighborhood. Sarah was always ambitious and hardworking, and she eventually became a successful lawyer. David, on the other hand, was more laid-back and preferred to pursue his passions, which included playing music and writing.

Sarah was very proud of her career and her financial success. She had a big house, a fancy car, and all the latest gadgets. However, Sarah was often stressed and unhappy. She worked long hours and was constantly worried about money.

David, on the other hand, was much happier. He didn't have a lot of money, but he didn't need it. He was able to live comfortably on his music and writing income, and he had a lot of free time to pursue his passions.

Sarah and David often talked about their different lives. Sarah often envied David's freedom and happiness, while David often …

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