Flash Stories

The Road to Somewhere

hamed Jan. 16, 2025, 5:12 p.m.

The distant pop of gunfire echoed through the humid night. Lina clutched her son tighter, his small frame trembling against her chest. “Maman, I’m scared,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of their hurried footsteps.

“I know, bébé,” she said, her own fear buried beneath layers of practiced calm. “We just have to keep moving.”

Behind them, Port-au-Prince burned. The gang wars had turned their neighborhood into a battlefield, and the police—the few who hadn’t fled—were powerless. Two nights ago, they had watched their neighbor’s house go up in flames, the screams inside silenced too quickly. Lina knew their turn was next.

Now, they were on the road, along with hundreds of others, shadows moving through the darkened countryside. Her husband, Marcel, walked ahead, carrying a tattered bag with the last of their belongings: a change of clothes for each of them, a few cans of food, …

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 Interview

hamed Jan. 12, 2025, 5:40 p.m.

Hadi straightened his tie in the shattered mirror shard hanging in his bedroom. The graduation photo on his desk mocked him, the cap tilted proudly, the grin wide. "Top of your class," his professor had said. "A bright future ahead." A future that had become a parade of rejection emails, unpaid internships, and “better luck next time.”

The sun was already scorching the streets of Dehong as he walked to yet another interview. His shoes, soles thinning, slapped against the cracked pavement. This one was at a warehouse—manual labor, no questions asked. It wasn’t what he'd spent four years studying finance for, but his mother’s hollow cheeks and the unpaid rent had drowned his pride.

“Next!” barked the foreman, a burly man with oil-streaked hands.

Hadi stepped forward, clutching his tattered résumé. The foreman glanced at it and laughed, the sound like gravel in his throat. “University, huh? This ain’t …

The Voices That Rise

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 4:51 p.m.

Maya stood at the edge of the crowd, her heart pounding in her chest, a mix of fear and defiance. The protest stretched out before her like a river of humanity, its currents alive with chants and signs that carried messages of pain and hope. She had never done anything like this before, never stood shoulder to shoulder with strangers in the streets, demanding change. But when she heard the news about George Floyd, when she saw the footage, it was as if the weight of the world had pressed down on her chest. Her whole life felt like a series of small injustices, like cracks in the pavement she had learned to step over. But this—this was different. She could no longer step aside.

"Say his name!" the crowd roared in unison, their voices a powerful wave of collective grief.

"George Floyd!" Maya shouted, the words tearing from her …

Two Paths Converged

dehongi Jan. 14, 2024, 1 p.m.

Alex and Ben were best friends since college. They both studied computer science and dreamed of creating their own software products. After graduation, they faced a dilemma: should they start their own business or work for a company?

Alex decided to take the risk and launch his own startup. He had a brilliant idea for a social media app that would connect people based on their interests and hobbies. He rented a small office, hired a few developers, and began working on his prototype.

Ben chose the safer option and joined a large software company. He got a decent salary, a comfortable cubicle, and a stable career path. He worked on various projects, learned new skills, and made valuable connections.

Alex and Ben kept in touch and supported each other. Alex often shared his challenges and frustrations with Ben, who offered him advice and encouragement. Ben sometimes envied Alex's freedom …

A Child of Promise

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 4:43 p.m.

The January air in Atlanta was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine from the hills beyond the city. In a modest two-story house on Auburn Avenue, the cries of a newborn broke the stillness. Alberta King leaned back against the bed, her face glistening with sweat and tears, but her smile radiant with relief.

“He’s here,” the midwife whispered, carefully wrapping the baby in a soft cotton cloth. “A strong boy, Mrs. King.”

Beside her, Reverend Martin Luther King Sr. cradled the child, his broad hands trembling as they held the fragile, wriggling bundle. The boy’s cry was sharp and insistent, a voice that refused to be ignored. “He’s got some lungs on him,” the Reverend chuckled, though his eyes shone with unshed tears.

“What shall we name him?” Alberta asked, her voice soft but steady.

“Martin,” the Reverend said, after a moment of thought. “After me. After the …

The Last Truth

hamed Jan. 17, 2025, 2:09 p.m.

The newsroom was silent, a graveyard of empty desks and dormant monitors. Taylor sat alone under the flickering glow of a desk lamp, headphones on, replaying the anonymous audio file for the tenth time.

“Project Echo is real. The broadcasts are scripted. Follow the money. You’ll find the puppeteers.”

The voice was scrambled, untraceable, but the weight of its claim was suffocating. Taylor, a once-respected journalist now reduced to running an independent stream, had spent weeks chasing dead ends.

Tonight, the puzzle pieces finally fit.

A spreadsheet leaked by the same source revealed corporate ties between the top five networks and a shadowy conglomerate, Solaris Holdings. They controlled airtime, ad revenue, and—Taylor now realized—content itself. Every headline, every breaking story, carefully crafted to serve their agenda.

Taylor leaned back in their chair, staring at the screen. Exposing this would destroy the last shreds of trust in media. But what would …

Payload

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 6:12 p.m.

Jules adjusted their cap and swiped the screen of their controller, directing the drone to its next drop-off. It was a normal Tuesday in the city, the skyline humming with autonomous machines zipping between rooftops. Jules didn’t think much about the contents of the boxes they delivered—most were tech gadgets, groceries, or overpriced sneakers.

But this package was different.

The first clue was the weight. It felt heavier than its size suggested, the kind of weight that didn’t match coffee beans or wireless earbuds. The second was the delivery coordinates: an unmarked building in a quiet corner of the financial district. And when the drone reached the drop point, the receiving bay opened not to a human but to a robotic arm that snatched the package and disappeared without so much as a confirmation ping.

Weird, but not unheard of. Automation was everywhere.

Jules shrugged it off until the next …

The Last Lotus

hamed Jan. 19, 2025, 6:21 p.m.

Niloofar stood in the doorway of her family’s antique shop, gazing at the delicate relics that had been passed down through generations. Each item had a story, each crack and tarnish a memory from a time long gone. The intricate Persian carpets, the gilded tea sets, the porcelain figurines—they were the essence of her family, the heart of her life. And yet, it was all now for sale.

Her fingers brushed the edge of a jade necklace that had belonged to her grandmother, the last piece of her inheritance. The weight of it, the history, felt too heavy for her to hold any longer. But the truth was, she had no choice.

Tariq, the man she loved, lay in a hospital bed, his body frail and ravaged by a rare illness. The doctors had been clear—without the treatment, he wouldn’t make it. And the money, the vast fortune she had …