Flash Stories

The Gift

maryam Jan. 15, 2024, 4:40 p.m.

Emma had always wanted a dog. Ever since she was a little girl, she had dreamed of having a furry friend to play with, cuddle with, and love. She had begged her parents for a dog, but they had always said no. They said that dogs were too expensive, too messy, too noisy, too much work.

Emma was heartbroken, but she never gave up hope. She read books about dogs, watched movies about dogs, drew pictures of dogs. She even made a list of names for her future dog, hoping that one day, her wish would come true.

On her tenth birthday, Emma woke up with a smile. She had a feeling that this was going to be a special day, a day that would change her life. She ran downstairs, eager to see what her parents had prepared for her.

She was greeted by a festive scene. The living …

Small Talks

hamed Jan. 18, 2024, 7:54 p.m.

He had never been to a big city before. He had grown up in a small village, where everyone knew each other and everything was familiar. He liked his simple life, but he also wanted to see the world. So, when his cousin invited him to visit him in the capital, he agreed.

He was amazed by the city. The skyscrapers, the traffic, the noise, the crowds. He felt like a fish out of water. He missed the fresh air, the green fields, the friendly faces of his village. He felt lonely and lost.

But he also discovered something new. He realized that in the city, he could be anyone he wanted to be. He could talk to strangers on the metro and in cabs, and share his thoughts and feelings without the fear of judgments. He could enjoy a conversation knowing he never would see that person again. He …

Organic Human Art

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 …

Ctrl+Alt+Delete

hamed Jan. 14, 2025, 5:04 p.m.

The algorithm flagged Clara's work performance as "suboptimal" on a Tuesday. Seventeen years of customer service excellence, reduced to a red indicator on her supervisor's dashboard.

"The AI handles 90% of calls now," her supervisor said, not meeting her eyes. "But we're offering a retraining program. Six weeks. Digital customer experience design."

Clara touched the silver customer service pin on her lapel – "15 Years of Excellence" – and thought of all the elderly clients who'd specifically asked for her, who'd sent holiday cards thanking her for explaining their bills with patience, for remembering their grandchildren's names.

At home, her laptop displayed a jumble of job listings. Customer service positions: "AI proficiency required." Call center roles: "Bot management experience preferred." Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, muscle memory from decades of typing client notes suddenly useless.

Her daughter peered over her shoulder. "Mom, you're really good at explaining things. Remember …

The Silent Elevator

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 6:39 p.m.

The lights flickered and then died, plunging the elevator into darkness. A sudden, collective intake of breath echoed in the small space. The hum of the machinery, once a soft background noise, had gone silent. The faint glow from the emergency button cast eerie shadows on the walls, but nothing else moved.

For a moment, there was only the sound of everyone’s breathing, unsure whether to panic or remain still. Then, a voice broke the silence.

“Well,” a woman’s voice said, steady despite the situation. “This is certainly not how I planned to spend my afternoon.”

She chuckled lightly, and after a beat, a few others joined in. Slowly, the tension began to lift, replaced by the quiet, lingering discomfort of being stuck with strangers.

“Do you think they’ll fix it soon?” another voice asked, a young man with a tired tone.

“Maybe it’s a power outage,” the woman replied. …

The Great Railway Sheet Heist

hamed Jan. 23, 2025, 7:19 p.m.

The train whistle blew as the Rajdhani Express pulled into New Delhi Railway Station. Passengers shuffled off the train, hauling suitcases, duffel bags, and an assortment of oddly shaped bundles. Among them was Mr. Mehta, a middle-aged man sweating profusely despite the cool December air. He looked calm, but his suitcase groaned under the weight of its contents.

Behind him, Mrs. Singh, an elderly woman with a suspiciously lumpy handbag, was walking with exaggerated nonchalance. Meanwhile, a group of college students stood at the edge of the platform, trying not to giggle as one of them stuffed a pillow into his backpack.

The TTE (Traveling Ticket Examiner), Mr. Sharma, stood at the exit, arms crossed. He had seen it all: fake tickets, illegal stowaways, even someone trying to smuggle a parrot. But today, he had a hunch. Something was off.

“Random luggage check,” Sharma barked, blocking the exit. “Step aside, …

The Last Text

hamed Jan. 9, 2025, 5:51 p.m.

The text from Jessica came at 3:33 AM: "I know what you did."
Marcus nearly dropped his phone. The timestamp was impossible – Jessica had died two hours ago in what the police called a "tragic accident."
His phone buzzed again: "Did you think deleting our conversation would hide it? Technology never forgets, Marcus."
The screen flickered, showing their last chat. The one he'd deleted. The one where she threatened to expose his embezzlement scheme.
Another buzz: "I backed everything up to the cloud before you pushed me."
His security cameras triggered. On the feed, he saw Jessica's contact photo floating in his living room, pixelating, expanding, forming a shape.
The lights went out.
In the darkness, his phone illuminated a face – Jessica's, but wrong. Her features were composed of binary code, her eyes mere windows to endless scrolling text messages.
"Let me show you what digital revenge looks like."
His phone began to glow white-hot in his …

Wired Mind

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 4:20 p.m.

The procedure took six hours. When Ethan woke, his skull ached like a struck gong. The doctor smiled, holding a sleek tablet. “How do you feel?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he thought: Dim the lights. The room obeyed, bathing itself in a soft, amber glow.

“Your neural interface is working perfectly,” the doctor said, tapping on the tablet. “You’re the first human capable of directly interacting with technology through thought alone.”

Ethan didn’t respond. His mind was already buzzing, testing. He muted the hum of the air conditioner, locked and unlocked the door, and pinged a coffee machine down the hall to brew a fresh cup. The raw power was intoxicating.

Over the following weeks, his fame grew. Corporate executives vied for partnerships, and governments whispered offers behind closed doors. With a glance, Ethan could control drones, bypass firewalls, and even silence someone’s pacemaker.

But what truly unnerved him was …

The Curse of Love and Immortality - Chapter 4: The Melancholy of Elnaz

dehongi Jan. 16, 2025, 12:10 p.m.

The king sat in silence for a moment, gazing at the flickering candlelight as if seeing another time, another place. The princess waited, sensing the weight of the tale he was about to share.
“Tonight,” he began softly, “I will tell you of Elnaz, the Pari who fell in love with a poet. Her story is one of beauty and sorrow, of words that wove their way into her immortal heart.”
The princess’s brow furrowed. “A poet? Did he write of her?”
The king smiled faintly. “Not at first. Elnaz lived in a secluded valley, far from human eyes. Her days were spent wandering among fields of wildflowers, her heart untouched by the fleeting lives of mortals. But one day, she heard something that stopped her in her tracks—a voice, soft and rich, reciting verses that seemed to carry the weight of the stars. She followed the sound and found him.”
The princess leaned …

Morning Announcement Gone Wild

hamed Jan. 22, 2025, 9:21 p.m.

Scene: A typical morning news set. The bright, cheery music fades as the camera zooms in on two co-hosts, Alice and Tim, sitting behind a sleek desk. The studio is decorated with standard morning news decor: plants, mugs, and a large, flat-screen monitor showing the words “Good Morning, America!”

Alice (smiling, holding a coffee cup):
Good morning, everyone! It’s a beautiful Wednesday, and we have a very special segment lined up for you today. But first, let’s get to the headlines. Tim, what’s happening?

Tim (glancing at the teleprompter, looking puzzled):
Well, Alice, in a shocking twist, it seems that former President Donald Trump and Senator JD Vance have decided to take their morning political show... to the dance floor.

The screen behind them flickers and transitions to a clip of Trump and JD Vance on a stage, music blaring. The two are inexplicably dressed in matching neon tracksuits and doing a …