Flash Stories

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 Supportive Girlfriend

hamed Jan. 27, 2025, 6:38 p.m.

The cameras were relentless, their flashes turning the night into a strobe-lit spectacle. Ava adjusted her grip on Leo’s hand, squeezing it gently as they walked the red carpet. His first major premiere. Her hundredth.

Leo’s grip was clammy, his smile tight. He looked stunning in his designer suit, but Ava could feel the tension radiating off him. She leaned closer, whispering, “You’ve got this. Just breathe.”

The reporters shouted questions. “Ava! Over here! Are you two official?” “Leo, what’s it like dating one of the most famous women in the world?” “Ava, are you helping Leo’s career?”

Ava smiled serenely, ignoring the chaos, but Leo’s jaw clenched. He hated this part—the speculation, the invasive questions. He was an actor, not a tabloid headline.

Inside the theater, away from the cameras, Leo finally exhaled. “I don’t know how you do it,” he muttered, collapsing into a plush seat.

“Do what?” …

Flash Fiction: A Quick Guide to Crafting Powerful Stories

hamed Aug. 26, 2024, 7:56 p.m.

Flash fiction is a literary genre that tells a complete story in a very short space, often under 1,000 words. It's a challenging but rewarding form that requires precision, economy of language, and a strong understanding of narrative structure.

Here are some tips for writing effective flash fiction:

* Start with a strong hook. Grab your readers' attention from the very beginning. A compelling image, a provocative question, or a surprising statement can set the stage for your story.

* Show, don't tell. Use vivid imagery and sensory details to paint a picture for your readers. Avoid excessive exposition and let your characters and their actions tell the story.

* Focus on one central conflict. A flash fiction story doesn't have room for multiple plotlines. Choose one conflict and develop it fully.

* Use strong characters. Even in a short story, your characters should be memorable. Give them distinct personalities …

The Citizenship Collector

hamed Jan. 22, 2025, 8:54 p.m.

In the not-so-distant future, the United States of Auremerica introduced the Citizenship Reclamation Initiative. Led by President Grump, the initiative’s first act was to end birthright citizenship for children born to undocumented parents and certain legal immigrants. But the administration didn’t stop there.

Auremerica’s borders became a game board, and Grump’s new agency, the Bureau of National Belonging, was determined to “clean up the roster.” They deployed a machine called the Citizenship Extractor 3000, a gleaming chrome monstrosity designed to retroactively revoke citizenship.

One morning, Maria Fernandez woke up to find the machine parked on her front lawn. It hummed ominously, with a sign that read: NOTICE: YOUR CITIZENSHIP IS UNDER REVIEW.

“Under review?!” Maria exclaimed, clutching her coffee. “I’ve lived here my whole life!”

Her neighbor, Joe, peeked over the fence. “Don’t argue with it. It’s got lasers.”

Maria groaned as the machine’s loudspeaker blared: “PLEASE PROVIDE PROOF OF …

Beyond the Stars

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 4:46 p.m.

Peter Lawson sat at his desk in the cluttered NASA lab, eyes bloodshot from hours spent scrutinizing calculations and blueprints. The hum of the machines around him was constant, a steady reminder of the giant leap they were all trying to make. Apollo was no longer just a dream—it was real, a mission that would send men to the moon and bring them home. But the weight of it pressed against him like the gravity they were trying to defy.

He ran a hand through his graying hair, staring at the latest telemetry readings on his screen. There were still so many things to solve—fuel mixtures, heat shields, trajectory corrections. It was never enough. The math was unforgiving.

“Pete,” called a voice from the doorway. It was his wife, Carol. She stood there, holding a cup of coffee, her eyes tired but warm.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, wiping his brow. …

Ali form Dehong

zaka Dec. 31, 2023, 7:01 a.m.

Ali had always wanted to be a pilot. He loved watching the planes fly over his village, leaving white trails in the blue sky. He loved reading books and magazines about aviation, learning the names and models of different aircrafts. He loved imagining himself in the cockpit, soaring above the clouds, exploring the world.

But Ali also loved his family and their farm. He loved the cows that gave them milk, cheese, and butter. He loved the Zaka brand that his father had created, named after his mother's maiden name. He loved the customers who appreciated their products, and the reputation they had built in the region.

Ali was torn between two dreams, two paths, two destinies. He wanted to pursue his passion for flying, but he also wanted to continue his family's legacy. He wondered if he could ever have both, or if he had to choose one over …

The Garden’s Song

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 6:33 p.m.

Lena sat on the balcony, staring out over the sprawling city. The skyline glimmered with the buzz of a thousand lights, each one a heartbeat in the relentless pulse of urban life. Her phone vibrated on the table, a reminder of another meeting, another deadline. The weight of it all pressed down on her chest. It had been a long week—no, a long month—and she felt it, every inch of the stress wrapping tighter around her.

She needed a break. But the city didn’t offer many escapes.

Her gaze wandered down to the small garden below, a patch of green in the concrete jungle. A few flower beds, some potted plants, and a wooden bench. It had become her refuge in the past few weeks, a place to breathe, a place where she could let go of the constant noise.

Tonight, however, something was different.

A soft fluttering sound caught …

The Pardoner's Last Laugh

hamed Jan. 22, 2025, 8:49 p.m.

In the parallel world of Pardonia, President Brydon sat at his ornate golden desk, pen poised over a stack of parchment marked Preemptive Pardons. Outside the White Oval Bubble, news anchors speculated wildly about who’d make the list. Brydon smirked. No one was getting left behind.

“Let’s see,” he murmured. “Brother, sister, cousin twice removed—don’t want anyone digging into that marshmallow pyramid scheme. Oh, and Dr. Frouchy! Can’t have him doing time for those ‘mandatory pet lizard vaccines.’”

Brydon glanced up at his Chief of Pardons, a jittery man named Carlow. "Did I miss anyone?"

Carlow hesitated. “Well, sir, there’s the Interdimensional Council of Accountability. They’re… not thrilled with the destruction of Universe 847-A.”

Brydon waved a hand dismissively. “Please. That was an honest mistake. How was I supposed to know pressing the big red button on Multiverse Monday would implode an entire reality? Anyway, I pardoned myself for that …

The Chain of Hands

hamed Jan. 12, 2025, 5:57 p.m.

The first knock came at dawn, loud and urgent.

Maria opened the door to find her neighbor, Sam, his face streaked with ash. “The fire’s jumped the canyon,” he said. “We need to get out—now.”

Maria’s heart sank as she glanced at the packed boxes still scattered around her living room. She’d been stalling, unsure what to take. Her husband was deployed overseas, and she felt paralyzed making these decisions alone.

“I’ll help you pack,” Sam said, already stepping inside.

Soon, more neighbors arrived. Rosa from two doors down brought extra boxes, while Ahmed from the corner house hauled Maria’s heavy photo albums to her car.

“The Thompsons!” Rosa exclaimed suddenly. “They’re elderly—they might need help!”

Without hesitation, the group split up. Sam and Ahmed ran toward the Thompsons’ house, their shadows flickering against the orange horizon. Rosa stayed behind to comfort Maria’s trembling hands as they loaded the last …

For once dead you never shall return

khayam Jan. 25, 2024, 10:26 a.m.

لب بر لب کوزه بردم از غایت آز
تا زو پرسم واسطه عمر دراز

لب بر لب من نهاد و می گفت این راز
می خور که بدین جهان نمی آیی باز

Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn
My lip the secret Well of Life to learn

And lip to lip it murmured - "While you live,
"Drink! - for once dead you never shall return!"

Story:

She was a young woman who loved adventure. She wanted to travel the world, to see new places, to meet new people. She had a passion for learning and a curiosity for life.

But she also had a fear of missing out. She always hesitated to make a decision, to take a risk, to commit to a plan. She always wondered if there was something better, something more, something else.

She found an earthen bowl in an antique shop, that caught her eye. It was …