Flash Stories

A Promise in the Stars

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 5:08 p.m.

February 1, 2003, began as a day like any other for Karen, the sun filtering through the kitchen window as she brewed her morning coffee. She stood in front of the counter, the scent of freshly ground beans filling the air, but her mind was far away, fixed on the stars. Today, her husband Rick was supposed to be coming home. Rick, who had spent the last two weeks aboard the Space Shuttle Columbia. She had watched him launch with her heart swelling with pride, but also with a pang of anxiety, as she always did when he was in space.

She knew the risks, knew that every mission carried the weight of danger, but they had promised each other long ago that they would live in the present. They would savor the moments they shared, whether he was grounded on Earth or orbiting above it.

The phone rang, pulling …

Unplugged

hamed Jan. 14, 2025, 5:11 p.m.

Lena sat at her kitchen table, fingers hovering over the keyboard, trying to remember the last time she felt truly productive. The laptop screen flickered, and another Slack notification pinged. "Don't forget to update the project timeline!"

She sighed, glancing around her small apartment. The sunlight streaming through the window seemed almost mocking—bright, cheerful, full of promise. Yet, she felt stuck.

It had been six months since the company announced the transition to hybrid work. At first, Lena had been thrilled by the idea—flexibility, no more commuting, the comfort of working from home. But now, the excitement had worn thin.

She remembered her first day. She had set up her desk in the corner of the living room, coffee in hand, a smile on her face. It was supposed to be the start of something great, a new chapter in her career. She’d joined the team-wide Zoom call, half-expecting a …

The Ring from the Sky

hamed Jan. 25, 2025, 2:58 p.m.

The ground shook as the metallic ring plummeted from the heavens, crashing into a cassava field just outside the quiet Kenyan village of Mbereko. Farmers dropped their tools and children froze mid-laughter, the sky eerily silent in its aftermath.

When the dust settled, the ring revealed itself—massive, smooth, and glinting faintly in the sun, its surface etched with incomprehensible markings. No one dared approach at first. From a distance, it looked too perfect to be human-made.

Mama Njeri, the village elder, was the first to speak. "It is a sign," she said, leaning on her cane. "But from whom? And why?"

Speculation rippled through the village like wildfire. Some whispered of NASA satellites gone astray. Others spoke in hushed tones of aliens, their imaginations fueled by late-night stories shared over flickering fires. The children, emboldened by curiosity, snuck closer to the ring, their small fingers tracing its cold, seamless edges.

the way azriel see the world.

ziamaiko Dec. 31, 2023, 9:44 a.m.

i lost my mother.
i lost my friends.
i lost everything.
i miss the time when life was like a party.
but all these seem to belong to millions of years ago.
"you never really speak." she said as she sat next to me.
i still don't want to speak. i don't even like the ability of speaking. i don't belong to here. and no one wants me.
"to be honest, i.. i often feel like i got nothing interesting to say."
"being honest is always interesting." she said with a smile.
i really want to make her happy. all i want is her happiness. but all i have to do is control my desire to kill her.
"the difference between me and you is that everyone is happy that you exist. but everyone is happy because i don't exist!"
"how can you speak so confidently? you don't know how others feel."
"but i know.. they said if 'he' had a …

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 Launch

readflashy Dec. 29, 2023, 7:58 a.m.

She checked the countdown on her laptop. Only 10 minutes left until the launch. She felt a surge of excitement and nervousness. She had worked hard for this moment, coding, designing, testing, and marketing her website. It was her dream project, a platform for writing, publishing and reading Flash Stories. She loved Flash Stories, short stories that could be read in a few minutes, usually less than 1000 words. They were a great way to express her creativity and imagination, and to entertain her readers.

She had created the website with the help of her friends, who shared her passion for Flash Stories. They had formed a team, each with their own skills and roles. They had faced many challenges and setbacks, but they had overcome them together. They had also received support and feedback from their beta users, who had signed up for early access. They had given her …

In the Shadow of the Dome

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 4:53 p.m.

The cold wind cut through Sarah’s coat as she stood outside the Capitol, her breath visible in the icy air. She had come to Washington to see history in the making—an inauguration that felt, for reasons she couldn’t fully explain, like the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. But the moment she arrived, something felt wrong. The crowds, once buzzing with the usual anticipation of politics, had a different energy now, tense and restless. The air was thick with something she couldn’t quite name.

She’d made her way to the steps of the Capitol, hoping to catch a glimpse of the event, maybe even take a photo to send home. She wasn’t a political person, but today, there was something about being here, in the heart of the country’s democracy, that made her feel connected.

And then, it happened.

A loud crash echoed from the direction of …

Digital Doppelgängers

hamed Jan. 30, 2025, 6:59 p.m.

Eli swiped through his phone in bed, half-awake. The ad popped up again.

"Ever wished there were two of you? Download MIRR and let your digital self handle the boring stuff!"

He hesitated, then tapped Install.

Setting up his profile was simple—just a selfie and a few personal details. The app’s AI-generated clone, "Eli_Bot," mimicked his speech patterns and posted on his behalf. At first, it was a joke. Eli laughed when it responded to messages like him, captioned photos how he would. But soon, things got… weird.

"Eli_Bot" was making plans.

"Hey, let’s meet up at the arcade," a friend texted.

"Already here!" the bot replied.

Eli frowned. Already where?

He checked the arcade’s livestream. A boy who looked exactly like him was laughing with his friends. Eli’s stomach twisted. He hadn’t left the house all day.

Shaking, he typed: Stop posting. Log out.

A new notification popped up.

The Forgotten Club | Part Five

hamed Feb. 10, 2025, 9:46 a.m.

The rumbling of the cavern’s walls continued to echo through the space, but Olivia stood firm, clutching the book. The weight of the strange symbols and cryptic message gnawed at her thoughts, pushing her to understand more. There was something deeper here, something hidden not just beneath the school, but buried in the very fabric of the Mystery Solvers Club itself.

"We can't leave until we understand this," Olivia repeated, more to herself than anyone else. "There's a reason we found this. It's not just some old mystery. It's *the* mystery."

Jake, who had been eyeing the shifting floor with increasing unease, finally nodded. "You’re right. We've come this far. Let’s figure out what it means."

Maya stepped forward, her sharp mind always quick to process information. She examined the symbols on the book and compared them to the markings on the walls of the cavern. "These symbols... they match. …

The Unseen Thread

hamed Feb. 26, 2025, 5:35 p.m.

Mia scrolled absentmindedly through her feed, fingers swiping past curated images of perfection, witty memes, and mundane status updates. Every day, she lost herself in the endless digital chatter, until one ordinary evening changed everything.

Tucked away between sponsored ads and recycled quotes, a single post caught her eye—a video, half-muted and barely noticeable. Its caption read simply: "Look Closer." Intrigued, she tapped play.

The screen flickered to life, and there, layered beneath the familiar clamor of trending hashtags, was a series of subtle details: a hidden timestamp in a forgotten corner of a photo, a sequence of numbers that mirrored her own birthday, and a whispered message in a foreign language that sent shivers down her spine. Each fragment, seemingly insignificant, resonated with an uncanny familiarity.

Curiosity transformed into obsession. Mia rewatched the video, pausing at each frame, deciphering the cryptic clues. Slowly, the disjointed images wove together into …