Flash Stories

The Feast of the Div

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 6:50 p.m.

Amir’s bike hummed against the late-night air, the city’s lights flickering like fireflies as he navigated through the quiet streets. His shift as a food delivery worker had started hours ago, and the streets had grown emptier with each passing minute. But then, a new order popped up—a delivery to a mansion at the edge of the city, one he’d never seen before.

The address was strange, hidden in the folds of the mountain ridge. But Amir, desperate for the extra tip, accepted. His phone flashed the message: A large feast. The div will be waiting.

He frowned. Div? Was this a themed party or some weird joke? Shrugging it off, he followed the route on his phone, pushing past the outskirts of the city. As he neared the mansion, the road seemed to narrow, the streetlights growing dimmer. By the time he reached the gates, the place looked almost …

The Last Trade

hamed Jan. 10, 2025, 5:44 p.m.

The bell over the door jingled one final time. Sofia looked up, her fingers idly tracing the floral patterns carved into the counter. It was a relic from her father’s era, the oak stained with decades of varnish and sweat. In walked Mrs. Devlin, her scarf pulled tightly around her face against the January chill.

“You’re really closing, Sofia?” Mrs. Devlin’s voice was soft, almost mournful.

Sofia nodded, forcing a smile. “Last day. The shelves are nearly bare, anyway.”

She glanced around the store. The jars of Italian olives, the French soaps, and the Turkish tea sets had been replaced with emptiness. The new tariffs had priced her loyal customers out, and soon even her suppliers had stopped calling.

“I thought I’d at least make it to spring,” Sofia said, her voice cracking despite herself. She cleared her throat. “Guess not.”

Mrs. Devlin set a tin of local honey on …

The Love Renewed

hamed Feb. 8, 2024, 6:41 p.m.

Eliza felt the sun caress her hair, turning the silver strands into gold. She smiled as she hung the silk lanterns on the porch, their soft light reflecting the warmth in Michael's eyes. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. "You look beautiful, my love," he whispered.

She turned and hugged him. "So do you, my darling." They kissed, their lips speaking the language of their hearts. Their vow renewal was a week away, a celebration of their triumph over a storm that almost tore them apart. A storm of lies, betrayal, and pain. A storm they weathered together, with courage, forgiveness, and love.

But the arrival of Eliza's cousin, Claudia, threatened to bring back the clouds. Claudia, who always wore stiletto heels and a fake smile. Claudia, who always envied Eliza for finding happiness. Claudia, who always made barbed comments, disguised as concern, to undermine …

The Last Harvest

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 4:31 p.m.

Jarek knelt in the moonlit field, his fingers trembling as they sifted through the soil. The earth was dry, cracked, and barely clinging to life—much like him. He’d worked in secret for months, stealing fertilizer from government warehouses and collecting rainwater in rusted barrels hidden behind his barn.

Natural farming had been outlawed a decade ago. The World Climate Accord had deemed it inefficient and destructive, replacing it with synthetic food factories that churned out flavorless sustenance. "For the planet," they’d said. But Jarek remembered what real food tasted like—warm tomatoes plucked straight from the vine, sweet corn kernels popping between his teeth. He remembered his father’s hands, caked in dirt, holding up a plump squash with pride.

Tonight, under the cover of darkness, the first shoots of his defiance were ready.

He wiped his brow, glancing at the sky. Drones patrolled the air, scanning for any signs of forbidden …

Pearls of the Moon

hamed Jan. 19, 2025, 6:30 p.m.

Amihan had always been drawn to the sea. Since childhood, the salty air and the endless blue had whispered to her in ways that words could not explain. Her father was a pearl diver, his weathered hands skilled at plucking the treasures from the deep, but it was her mother who had taught her the secret of the sea's magic—the delicate balance between what the ocean could give and what it could take.

When her lover, Bayani, was swept away by the storm, she found herself at the shore every night, staring at the horizon where the moonlight kissed the waves. She had been unable to breathe properly without him beside her, and every waking moment felt hollow, like a pearl with its core missing.

One night, as the moon hung low in the sky, she felt the sea stir, the ripples weaving an ancient song. Beneath the water, something …

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 …

The White Div's Daughter

hamed Jan. 19, 2025, 5:44 p.m.

The cavern shimmered with frost, each crystal a fragile web of light. Shirin sat at the mouth of the cave, her pale hair spilling like moonlight down her back, her eyes fixed on the human camp far below. Smoke curled from their fires, faint against the starlit sky.

Her father’s voice boomed behind her, shaking the earth. “You’ve been staring at them again.”

Shirin didn’t flinch. “They’re fascinating,” she said softly, her voice like the wind threading through winter trees.

The White Div stepped into the moonlight, his massive frame cloaked in a mantle of snow and shadows. His eyes, as cold as glaciers, narrowed. “They are dangerous.”

“Perhaps,” Shirin replied, not looking away. “But they are also brave.”

“Bravery is the disguise of weakness,” her father growled. “Do not let their fires fool you. They will snuff out your light if you draw too close.”

Shirin said nothing, but …

What Is He Suppose To Do?

hamed Jan. 19, 2024, 9:10 a.m.

The sun rose over Kabul, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and orange. Mohammad whistled as he carried a loaf of bread for his family, enjoying the fresh morning air. He loved this time of day, when the city was still peaceful and quiet.

But as he turned the corner to his street, his smile faded. His home was gone. In its place, a heap of bricks and dust, the result of a night-time bombing. Mohammad felt a cold shock in his chest. Where was his family?

He ran towards the ruins, hoping to find them alive. He searched for his brother Ali, who always woke up early to play. He looked for his sister Fatima, who loved to read stories in her bed. He called for his mother, who made the best breakfasts in the world.

But there was no answer. No sign of life. Only silence …

Firewall

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

Kai’s fingers flew across the keyboard, the glow of the screen painting their face in pale blue light. The breach had been catastrophic—millions of names, locations, and personal histories leaked from VaultCore, the company that promised unbreakable security for the digital age. Among the stolen data: Kai’s mother’s bank details and her online medical records, now plastered across the dark web.

The official statement blamed "sophisticated cybercriminals," but Kai didn’t buy it. Not after finding the encrypted files buried in VaultCore’s server logs, files that didn’t belong in any legitimate operation.

"Someone left the back door open," Kai muttered, decrypting another file. And it wasn’t hackers. It was VaultCore itself.

The file revealed chilling plans: selling anonymized—yet traceable—user data to private contractors. The breach wasn’t a crime. It was a smokescreen.

A faint sound broke Kai’s concentration—a creak on the stairs.

They froze, ears straining. At this hour, it should’ve …

Subway Sama

hamed Jan. 19, 2025, 6:47 p.m.

Eli sat on the worn, cracked floor of the 2 train platform, his guitar resting in his lap. The bustle of New York City echoed around him—the rush of commuters, the screeching trains, the clattering footsteps. He strummed his chords with the rhythm of his thoughts, searching for the right tune, the one that would draw a few extra dollars from the crowd. He didn’t mind. Playing music in the subway was a means to an end—his dream was to play for crowds, for real stages. But for now, this sufficed.

A man in a long, dusty coat shuffled into view, his feet dragging like the weight of his years was too much to bear. His eyes, however, were sharp—like the glint of sunlight on a forgotten shard of glass. He stopped in front of Eli, not bothering to throw in any change, just staring at him intently.

Eli raised …