Flash Stories

A Second Too Many

hamed Jan. 23, 2025, 6:27 p.m.

Ren adjusted the dials on the ChronoRing, the device humming softly against her wrist. She’d only ever used it for minor adjustments—skipping traffic jams, fixing a botched presentation, reliving a perfect date. But tonight, she was breaking all the rules.

She stood in the alley outside her apartment, heart pounding as she replayed the memory. Her brother’s face, pale and lifeless, the screech of tires, the sound of glass shattering. The accident had taken him two years ago. And tonight, it wouldn’t.

Ren took a deep breath and pressed the button.

The world around her shimmered, a wave of distortion washing over the alley. The air grew thick, her vision blurred, and for a moment, she felt like she was drowning in static.

Then it was over.

She stood on the same street, but it was daylight now, two years earlier. Across the road, she spotted her brother, Elias, headphones …

Behind the Spotlight

hamed Jan. 29, 2025, 6:20 p.m.

Kira stood in front of the mirror backstage, staring at her reflection as her stylist adjusted the hem of her glittering gown. The lights from the stage beyond hummed like a distant heartbeat, calling her to step into them, to perform, to be everything the world expected her to be.

But in this quiet moment, she wasn’t sure who she was anymore.

A few months ago, she had been just another name in a crowded music scene, hoping for a break. Now? Her face was everywhere. Her songs on every playlist. Fans knew her like they knew the air they breathed, but did they know her?

She swallowed, touching her cheek. Not the perfect contour. Not the filtered skin. Just me.

Her manager knocked softly, entering the room with his usual smile, but even that felt like a mask. “Ready?”

Kira barely nodded. “I don’t know who they expect me …

Personal Stories of Fire

hamed Jan. 12, 2025, 5:52 p.m.

"Voices of the Fire"

The fire tore through the canyon like a predator unleashed, but in its shadow, three lives intertwined.

---

The Veteran:

Edith stood on her porch, gripping the bannister as the sky turned orange. At seventy-eight, she had seen fires before—three, to be exact. But this one was different. Faster, angrier.

“Mrs. Clarke, you need to leave!” a young deputy called from the street, his face slick with sweat.

She nodded but didn’t move. Her gaze was fixed on the eucalyptus tree in the yard, planted the day she and her late husband bought the house. “I’ll leave,” she said, her voice calm. “Just need a few minutes.”

In truth, Edith didn’t want to go. She had nowhere else to feel at home. She had outlived her husband, her friends, even the old dog who used to chase birds in the yard. This …

The Pulse of Pomegranate Valley

hamed Jan. 23, 2025, 6:28 p.m.

In Pomegranate Valley, every tree had a voice. Sensors embedded in the ancient orchards whispered to the village network, updating humidity levels, soil health, and even the ripeness of the fruit. The valley was alive in ways Farhad could never have imagined when he’d first returned from the city.

“Another tree’s stressed,” his sister Aylin said, glancing at her tablet as they walked through the grove. “Sector 12, row 8. Probably irrigation again.”

Farhad nodded, swiping his wristband. The smart irrigation system hummed to life, delivering a precise stream of water directly to the roots of the tree in question.

“You know,” he said, “I used to hate this place.”

Aylin smirked. “We know. You complained non-stop about how backward it was. Now you’re Chief Data Farmer.”

“Things changed.”

They walked past the solar array that powered the entire village, its panels gleaming under the midday sun. The community had …

When the Waters Rose

hamed Jan. 22, 2025, 9:05 p.m.

The rain had been relentless for days, a constant drumming on the tin roofs of the villages nestled in Central Java’s lush valleys. By the time the rivers began to swell, it was too late to escape. The water came in the dead of night, a roaring force that swept through homes, fields, and lives with no mercy.

In the village of Sumber Rejo, 12-year-old Rani clung to her mother’s hand as they waded through the chest-deep water. The flashlight in her mother’s grip flickered, casting shaky beams on the chaos around them. Furniture floated past, along with remnants of lives uprooted—a child’s stuffed bear, a photograph album, a single sandal. The air was thick with the smell of mud and fear.

“Stay close, Rani!” her mother shouted over the sound of the rushing water. But Rani’s eyes were fixed on the dark shape of their neighbor’s house, half-submerged and …

The Day History Changed

hamed Jan. 16, 2025, 6:08 p.m.

It was a bitter, cold January afternoon in Prague, the kind that sank into your bones and made the city feel even more oppressive than it already was. The streets, lined with grey, drab buildings, seemed to murmur with the weight of history. But for Tomáš, a student at Charles University, history wasn’t something that whispered—it was something that suffocated.

He had grown up with the stories, the whispers of a once-proud nation reduced to a puppet of the Soviet Union. Freedom, like so many things, had become a memory, a faint echo of a past that seemed unreachable. There were protests, of course—students marched, workers went on strike, but it was always the same. The tanks, the soldiers, the crushing weight of Soviet power. Change seemed impossible.

He walked past Wenceslas Square on his way to class, the busy hub of the city seemingly unaffected by the gloom that …

They Are Comming For Your Job?

hamed Jan. 12, 2024, 3:03 p.m.

Jack was a software developer who loved his job. He enjoyed solving problems, creating applications, and learning new technologies. He was proud of his skills and his portfolio.

But lately, he had been feeling anxious and insecure. He had heard about the new trends of generative AI, which could produce code, design, and content with just a few inputs. He had seen some of the examples online, and they looked impressive and realistic. He wondered if his job was in danger, if he would soon be replaced by a machine that could code faster and better than him.

He decided to try out one of the generative AI tools, just to see what it could do. He signed up for a free trial and entered a simple prompt: "Create a web app that allows users to upload and edit photos". He clicked the generate button and waited.

To his surprise, …

The Water Wars

hamed Jan. 10, 2025, 5:55 p.m.

The sun hung heavy in the sky, a merciless eye watching the land below. The river, once a lifeline, was now a trickle—a shadow of its former self. What remained of its waters had become more precious than gold, and the divide between the two communities on either bank had deepened into something unspoken, but understood.

Kara stood at the edge of the river, her hands clenched at her sides. Across the water, a group of men from the neighboring village gathered, their faces hard with suspicion and distrust. She could see them eyeing her, and she knew they saw the same thing in her: a representative of an enemy, someone who would do anything to take what little they had left.

"Talk to them," whispered Jamal, the elder of her community. His voice was rough, like stones grinding together. "If we don't, they'll come for the river. We can't …

Echoes of Earth

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

Commander Elena Martinez floated in the quiet solitude of the Mars capsule, her hands steady as she adjusted the controls, guiding their craft closer to the Red Planet. The stars outside the small porthole shimmered, distant and cold, like pinpricks of hope in an endless, empty canvas.

She was the first to leave Earth with a mission that felt bigger than any one person—humanity’s boldest leap into the unknown. They called it Ares Venture, a pioneering journey that would mark the beginning of colonizing Mars, of securing humanity’s future beyond their fragile home. Yet, despite all the technology, the sleek spacecraft, and the mission’s grand purpose, Elena couldn’t shake the feeling of being utterly, terribly alone.

The other astronauts were awake—some conducting experiments, others preparing for the arrival—but Elena felt the weight of the silence in her chest. It wasn’t the absence of sound that unsettled her. It was the …

The Followers

hamed Jan. 9, 2025, 5:54 p.m.

Her Instagram following jumped from 651 to 100,000 overnight. Sarah stared at her phone, puzzled. Every new follower's profile picture showed the same thing: her sleeping face, photographed from above her bed.
Each account had posted a single photo – different angles of her bedroom, all timestamped from last night. In some, a dark figure stood in the corner, growing clearer with each post.
She scrolled frantically. The figure moved closer to her bed in each subsequent photo.
Her phone pinged: "Going viral! 250,000 followers!"
The latest photos showed the figure leaning over her sleeping form, its face a blur of static.
Another ping: "500,000 followers!"
Sarah looked up at her bedroom ceiling. The hidden camera she'd installed last week blinked steadily. But she hadn't installed it.
Her phone buzzed one final time: "Live stream starting in 3...2...1..."
The lights went out. In the darkness, thousands of tiny red recording lights blinked from every corner of her room.