Flash Stories

Whispers from the Attic

hamed Jan. 30, 2025, 7:13 p.m.

The attic smelled like old books and dust, a heavy, musty scent that made Emma and Noah sneeze as they dug through boxes of forgotten treasures. Their grandmother had passed away last month, and now, it was their job to clear out her house.

"No way she kept all these old things," Noah muttered, tossing a faded scarf into a pile. "Who even needs a hundred-year-old picture frame?"

Emma shrugged, her hand brushing over the surface of a worn wooden box tucked in the far corner. "Maybe there’s something valuable in here."

They opened it carefully, the hinges creaking in protest. Inside were stacks of yellowed letters, tied together with a faded ribbon. Emma’s fingers trembled as she untied the bundle, the weight of the moment sinking in.

“Who’s this from?” she asked, scanning the first letter. It was dated 1947.

Noah leaned in, squinting at the neat, flowing handwriting. …

Reflections

hamed Feb. 26, 2025, 5:41 p.m.

Ethan nearly dropped his coffee when he saw him.

Across the café, a man sat alone, flipping through a book with the same lazy concentration Ethan had. Same sharp jawline, same unruly dark curls. Even the same nervous habit—tapping his fingers against the table in a steady rhythm.

It was like looking into a mirror.

The man glanced up. Their eyes met. A jolt ran through Ethan’s spine, a pull deeper than recognition. This wasn’t just resemblance. It was… connection.

He swallowed hard and stood, legs moving before his brain could catch up.

“Hey,” he said, his voice betraying its usual confidence.

The man smiled, an eerie, knowing smile. “Took you long enough.”

Ethan frowned. “Do I… know you?”

“Not yet.” The man leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “But you will.”

A chill spread through Ethan’s chest. He should have walked away. But something in the man’s …

Ronaldo and Messi, The Last Time They Played in Europe

dehongi Jan. 27, 2024, 4:57 p.m.

Ronaldo: Hey Messi, how are you feeling after joining PSG?
Messi: I'm feeling great, thanks. How about you? How's life at Manchester United?
Ronaldo: It's amazing. I'm back to where I belong. I'm the king of Old Trafford.
Messi: Well, good for you. I'm also enjoying my time at Paris. I'm playing with some of the best players in the world.
Ronaldo: Like who? Neymar? Mbappe? They are good, but they are not on my level.
Messi: Oh, really? What about you? Who are you playing with? Fernandes? Pogba? They are decent, but they are not on my level.
Ronaldo: Come on, Messi. You know I'm the best player in the world. I have more goals, more assists, more trophies, more awards than you.
Messi: That's not true, Ronaldo. You know I'm the best player in the world. I have more skills, more creativity, more vision, more magic than you.
Ronaldo: Skills? Creativity? Vision? Magic? What are those? …

Most People Don't Like the Journey, But the Destination

hamed Aug. 10, 2024, 1:04 p.m.

The studio lights bathed him in a warm glow, casting long shadows of success. The host, a seasoned pro with a practiced smile, leaned in. "You've built an empire from scratch. Who do you owe it to?"

The entrepreneur, a man of sharp wit and steely resolve, paused dramatically. "Well, there’s this whole world out there, teeming with people, you know? Investors, mentors, employees—the usual suspects. But let’s get real for a second.”

The audience chuckled, anticipating a juicy anecdote.

"In the darkest hours of my startup, I sent out a mass text. A cry for help, I guess. Most of them probably read it, thought, 'Poor guy,' and moved on. But a handful – and I mean handful – replied with a sticker. Or a thumbs up. No cash, no advice, just a digital pat on the back."

The audience was silent, then erupted in laughter.

"I know, it …

The Curse of Love and Immortality - Chapter 8: Shirin and the Desert Rose

dehongi Jan. 16, 2025, 12:14 p.m.

The king’s voice was softer tonight, almost as if the desert winds themselves had carried it into the chamber. The princess, eager for the next tale, sat with her hands clasped, her eyes fixed on her father.
"This is the story of Shirin," he began, "a Pari whose name means 'sweet.' But her life, though touched by sweetness, was also marked by the harshness of the desert sands she chose to call home."
The princess tilted her head. "A desert? Did she not live in the forests or near rivers, like the others?"
"No," the king replied. "Shirin was different. She loved the vastness of the desert, the endless dunes that seemed to ripple like waves under the golden sun. It was in those unforgiving sands that she first encountered Prince Bahram, the leader of a nomadic tribe who roamed the desert in search of water and life."
"How did they meet?" the princess …

The Threads of Fate | Chapter 8: The Weight of Guilt

dehongi Jan. 25, 2025, 4:28 p.m.

The old man’s mind drifted to a time long buried in the recesses of his memory—a time when a decision, driven by fear and selfishness, had weighed heavily on him. It was a betrayal of trust, one that he had never fully acknowledged, one that had haunted him for years. The guilt of that moment, the lie he had chosen to tell, had stayed with him, a shadow lurking just outside the light of his thoughts.

At the time, he had felt cornered, unable to face the consequences of his actions. He had lied to protect himself, to shield his reputation, and in doing so, he had betrayed someone who had trusted him deeply. The decision had been swift, a reflexive act born of desperation. He convinced himself that it was a necessary evil, that the truth would only cause more harm than good. But now, as an old man, …

The Curse of Love and Immortality - Chapter 1: The Tale of Aylin, the Star-Kissed

dehongi Jan. 16, 2025, 12:06 p.m.

The fire crackled softly in the great hall, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. The princess, seated on a velvet cushion beside her father, cradled a warm cup of tea in her hands. It was their nightly ritual—a quiet hour after dinner when the king would share a story, each one revealing another layer of the world’s mysteries.
“Tonight,” the king began, his voice as steady as the waves of the distant sea, “I shall tell you the tale of Aylin, the Star-Kissed.”
The princess tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “Star-Kissed?”
The king nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Aylin was a Pari of unmatched beauty. Her eyes shimmered like the first light of dawn, and her voice was as soothing as the lull of twilight. But what set her apart was her fascination with the stars. While other Paris reveled in the earthly pleasures of forests, rivers, and winds, Aylin …

Snapchat Showdown at Millfield High

hamed Jan. 23, 2025, 7:23 p.m.

It all started innocently enough. The Year 10 Snapchat group, “Millfield Legends,” was created for students to share homework help, memes, and the occasional low-quality photo of the canteen’s mystery meat. But one fateful Monday morning, chaos erupted.

Mr. Thompson, the school’s tech-savvy IT teacher, burst into the staff room, phone in hand, pale as the printer paper he clutched during his many “No Printing Without Permission!” lectures.

“We’ve got a… situation,” he announced, voice trembling.

“What kind of situation?” asked Mrs. Patel, head of English, sipping her tea.

“Snapchat,” Thompson whispered, as if uttering Voldemort’s name.

The staff collectively groaned. Snapchat had been a thorn in their sides for years, but this time was different. Someone had posted something in the group chat that shouldn’t have been there. Something… inappropriate.

By first period, the rumor mill was in full swing.

“It’s a pic of Mr. Jenkins’ bald spot!” one …

Bound for the North

hamed Jan. 17, 2025, 3:09 p.m.

The sun had barely risen when the Ford Model T sputtered to life, its engine groaning as if reluctant to leave the familiar red soil of Mississippi behind. Clara Harris held her breath as the car rattled down the dirt road, the distant hum of the engine the only sound in the pre-dawn stillness. Beside her, her husband, James, gripped the wheel with determination, his knuckles white.

"Everything we’ve worked for, Clara," James said quietly, eyes fixed on the road ahead, "it’s all up north. We can build something better for our children."

Clara nodded, her hand resting protectively on the small bundle in her lap—baby Ruth, fast asleep, unaware of the life-altering journey unfolding around her. Behind them, their two older children, Elijah and Annie, were silent, both lost in their own thoughts. The journey had been their idea, but Clara wasn’t sure if they truly understood what lay …

Lila

khayam Dec. 29, 2023, 3:54 p.m.

The moving finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy piety nor wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a line,
Nor all thy tears wash out a word of it

Story:

Once upon a time, there was a young girl named Lila. She was a curious child who loved to explore the world around her. One day, while wandering through the forest, she stumbled upon a magical pen. When she picked it up, the pen began to write on its own. Lila was amazed as she watched the pen scribble across the page, creating beautiful stories and poems.

As she continued to write, Lila realized that the pen had a mind of its own. It wrote about things she had never even thought of before, and it seemed to have a life of its own. She tried to stop it, but the pen kept writing, and Lila couldn’t …