Flash Stories

The Betrayal

dehongi Jan. 6, 2024, 12:25 p.m.

The Betrayal

Tom and Lisa walked home from school, their backpacks heavy with books. Tom had a list of groceries to buy for their mother, who had given him some money in the morning. Lisa, his younger sister, had a different idea.

"Tom, can we buy some ice cream? Please, please, please!" she begged, pointing at the frozen treats in the store window.

"Lisa, we don't have enough money for that. We have to buy the things on the list. Mom will be mad if we don't," Tom said, trying to be responsible.

"But I really want some ice cream. It's so hot today. And you love ice cream too, don't you?" Lisa said, batting her eyelashes.

Tom sighed. He did love ice cream, but he also wanted to do the right thing. He looked at the list and the money in his hand. Maybe he could buy a cheaper …

The Last Heir

hamed Jan. 10, 2025, 4:55 p.m.

Sarah Blackwood traced her fingers over the family portraits lining the mahogany-paneled hallway. First went little Tommy, found frozen in the greenhouse despite the summer heat. Then Mother, discovered at the bottom of the stairs with a broken neck – though Sarah couldn't remember those stairs ever creaking before. Father lasted longer, until the hunting accident that everyone called suspicious but couldn't prove otherwise.
At seventeen, she was the last Blackwood standing.
Mr. Peterson, their family lawyer since before her birth, had been a constant presence through each tragedy. He arranged the funerals, managed the estate, and became her legal guardian. His cold efficiency in handling their affairs had been a comfort, until she found the old photograph while cleaning out Mother's dresser.
It showed a younger Peterson at a garden party, his eyes fixed on her mother with an intensity that made Sarah's skin crawl. In every frame, he lurked in the …

The Kite in the Rubble

hamed Jan. 22, 2025, 9:01 p.m.

The streets of Jenin were unrecognizable. Where there had been markets and laughter, now there were craters and silence, broken only by the distant rumble of armored vehicles. Smoke hung in the air, heavy and acrid, as if the city itself was exhaling its pain.

Amid the destruction, nine-year-old Yusuf crouched behind the crumbled remains of his family’s home. His small hands clutched the broken frame of a kite, the fabric torn and frayed. It had once been bright yellow, streaked with green, a kite that danced in the sky above Jenin like it had no borders to obey.

“Yusuf!” his older sister, Amina, hissed from a safer corner of the rubble. “Come back here! They’ll see you!”

Yusuf shook his head, his lips trembling. “I have to fix it,” he whispered. “It’s the only thing left.”

Amina’s heart twisted. Their father was gone, their mother missing, their home flattened …

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 …

Matchmaking Mischief

hamed Jan. 30, 2025, 7:11 p.m.

Daisy and Max were tired of their parents’ endless excuses.

“Too busy,” Mom always said, eyeing her phone while stirring soup.
“Not in the mood,” Dad mumbled, too focused on the TV remote.

Daisy, 14, and Max, 12, had seen enough. They were done with the lonely dinner tables, the single-lane grocery trips, and the awkward silence during family movie nights. It was time for action.

They enlisted the help of their best friends: Luna, the self-proclaimed romance expert, and Jake, who just liked causing chaos. Together, they made a plan—Operation: Couple Up.

The first attempt involved a “coincidental” run-in at the local coffee shop. Max had prepped Dad by telling him to “accidentally” bump into Mom while grabbing his morning latte. The problem? Dad had zero coordination. He spilled his coffee, slipped on a puddle, and knocked over the entire menu stand.

“Smooth, Dad,” Daisy muttered, watching from a corner …

In the Waiting Room

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 5:05 p.m.

Mira sat at her cluttered desk, eyes scanning the screen in front of her, the cursor blinking beside another email from a supplier—another delay. The shelves in her small bakery, Sweet Beginnings, sat half-empty, a stark contrast to the days when her display case would be brimming with freshly baked pastries, warm bread, and vibrant cakes. Now, there were only a few sad loaves and half-baked attempts at new recipes, each more experimental than the last.

“Flour, sugar, eggs... where are you?” she muttered under her breath, clicking on yet another message about an estimated shipment. No guarantees. No exact dates.

The global supply chain crisis had made even the most basic ingredients difficult to source. Mira had spent weeks calling, emailing, and begging her regular suppliers to send the most basic things she needed—flour, chocolate, butter—but each time, she was met with the same cold, impersonal reply: delayed, no …

The Last Days of El Salvador's Civil War

hamed Jan. 16, 2025, 5:57 p.m.

The sun dipped below the hills, casting long shadows across the fields that stretched like a forgotten memory. José sat on the edge of the trench, the dirt under his fingers cooling as the evening breeze swept through. The faint smell of gunpowder still lingered in the air, though the battles had stopped for the day. In the distance, the silhouette of a soldier—a comrade, perhaps—was barely visible, a reminder that the war was far from over.

1992, the final year of El Salvador’s civil war. A war that had shaped him, broken him, and, in some ways, defined him. It had been more than a decade of fighting, of bloodshed, of choices that had no easy answers. He had once believed in the cause—the revolution, the idea of justice for the oppressed. But now, in the quiet moments before the ceasefire, doubt clung to him like the dust in …

The Extra’s Revenge

hamed Jan. 27, 2025, 6:33 p.m.

Todd had been a background actor for years. He’d played “Man Drinking Coffee #3,” “Guy at the Bus Stop,” and even “Zombie #27.” It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills—barely.

And then came Lights in the Fog, the latest thriller starring Chase Kensington, Hollywood’s golden boy. Chase’s face was everywhere: billboards, soda commercials, and smug little award acceptance speeches. Everyone adored him.

Todd hated him.

It started on day one of filming when Chase breezed onto the set, sunglasses on, ignoring the director’s greeting. He spent more time checking his reflection than rehearsing. During a break, Chase “accidentally” knocked Todd’s coffee onto his script and muttered, “Watch where you put your stuff, man.”

By day three, Todd had seen enough. Chase berated a crew member for bringing him lukewarm kombucha. He made fun of an extra’s shoes, loud enough for everyone to hear. And the cherry on top? Chase …

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 …

a villain.

ziamaiko Jan. 19, 2024, 6:49 p.m.

دیگر از شرور بودن خسته شده‌ام. (نشده‌ام.)
معنی انسان بد بودن را زمانی متوجه شدم که آرزوی مرگ شخصی را کردم. قبل از آن چنان خودم را معصوم می‌دانستم که حتی اگر شخصی بدترین ظلم را هم در حقم می‌کرد، هرگز از دستش ناراحت نمی‌شدم.
یعنی حتی اگر شخصی من را می‌کشت و من می‌توانستم به زندگی برگردم و او معذرت‌خواهی می‌کرد، من او را می‌بخشیدم.
حالا دیگر اینطور نیست. مثل اینکه یادم داده‌اند چطور خودم را دوست بدارم یا عزت‌نفس داشته باشم.
حس تنفر دارد درونم می‌جوشد. کافی‌ست احساس کنم کوچک‌ترین ظلمی در حقم شده. دوست دارم تک‌تک سلول‌های آن آدمی که باعثش شده را بسوزانم.
قبلا اگر برای مردمی مشکلی پیش می‌آمد، تمام تلاشم را می‌کردم که نجات‌شان بدهم و کمک‌شان کنم.
بارها و بارها این مکالمه را از سر گذرانده‌ام. «تو نمی‌تونی همه‌شون رو نجات بدی.»
«من می‌تونم!»
و من واقعا تمام تلاشم را برای نجات دادنشان کردم اما آدم‌ها را که می‌شناسید. نمی‌توان آن …