Flash Stories

The Last Heir

hamed Jan. 10, 2025, 4:55 p.m.

Sarah Blackwood traced her fingers over the family portraits lining the mahogany-paneled hallway. First went little Tommy, found frozen in the greenhouse despite the summer heat. Then Mother, discovered at the bottom of the stairs with a broken neck – though Sarah couldn't remember those stairs ever creaking before. Father lasted longer, until the hunting accident that everyone called suspicious but couldn't prove otherwise.
At seventeen, she was the last Blackwood standing.
Mr. Peterson, their family lawyer since before her birth, had been a constant presence through each tragedy. He arranged the funerals, managed the estate, and became her legal guardian. His cold efficiency in handling their affairs had been a comfort, until she found the old photograph while cleaning out Mother's dresser.
It showed a younger Peterson at a garden party, his eyes fixed on her mother with an intensity that made Sarah's skin crawl. In every frame, he lurked in the …

The Vanishing Feed

hamed Jan. 17, 2025, 1:36 p.m.

Sienna woke up to the same ritual she had followed for years: reaching for her phone before her eyes fully opened. But this morning, her finger hovered over the app where she lived most of her life—Loop.

Except the icon was gone.

She blinked, panic immediately replacing her sleepiness. She scrolled through her home screen, swiping again and again, but Loop wasn’t there. A quick search confirmed it wasn’t just her phone. It was trending everywhere—or, rather, nowhere. Loop had vanished. No warning, no explanation.

Sienna’s first instinct was disbelief. Then grief. She’d spent years curating her life for her 1.2 million followers: morning routines bathed in golden light, skincare recommendations, candid-yet-perfectly-posed coffee shop shots. Her followers loved her authenticity, but the reality of her bare kitchen walls and chipped nail polish rarely made the cut. Without Loop, she wasn’t sure who she was anymore.

Her inbox flooded with frantic …

The Raven's Dilemma

hamed Jan. 20, 2025, 7:19 p.m.

Huginn perched on the edge of a skyscraper, the city buzzing below him like a hive of restless mortals. It had started as a typical journey—scouting Midgard, gathering wisdom for Odin. But this time, his sharp eyes had caught something peculiar: humans staring at glowing rectangles, their faces alight with strange expressions.

Curiosity led him to a coffee shop, where he perched by a window and watched. The humans scrolled endlessly, pausing to tap glowing hearts and laugh at tiny videos of cats falling off furniture. He tilted his head, intrigued. Knowledge was being exchanged here, but in a way unlike any he had seen before.

Huginn wasn’t one to shy away from new methods of gathering wisdom. He tapped into the humans' network, adopting a sleek black phone left unattended on a table. Within hours, his account, @RavenOfOdin, began to gain followers.

At first, Huginn shared what he always …

The Status Update

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 5:22 p.m.

Erica sat at her desk, staring at the screen of her computer, a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty swirling inside her. It was February 4, 2004, and Facebook had just launched. She had heard about it from a few friends in her dorm—this new site where college students could connect, share pictures, and post about their lives. It seemed like a novelty, something that might be fun for a few weeks before fizzling out. But there was a spark of intrigue that pulled her in.

She clicked through the simple registration page and added her profile details: Erica Miller, Sophomore at Penn. She uploaded a grainy picture from last weekend's party, smiling awkwardly with her friends. Her pulse quickened as she typed in her first status: "Feeling curious about this new thing called Facebook."

Within minutes, a notification pinged. Emily has added you as a friend.

Erica’s eyes widened. Emily …

The Forgotten King

hamed Dec. 23, 2024, 5:27 a.m.

The wind howled through the crumbling ruins of an ancient palace, buried deep within the Alborz mountains. Mehran, a wandering bard, stumbled upon the remnants of a courtyard. Marble lions guarded the entrance, their faces weathered but defiant. In the air lingered a faint hum, like a melody half-forgotten, tethered to the past.

He knelt beside a fountain, its water long dried, and sang an old verse:

"When night betrays the veil of dawn,
The rightful king shall yet be drawn."

No sooner had the words left his lips than the earth beneath him trembled. From the shadows emerged an old man cloaked in shimmering gold, his face obscured by a jeweled mask.

"Who dares disturb the silence of Siyavashgard?" The voice was thunderous, commanding reverence.

Mehran’s heart raced. "A seeker of truth," he replied, clutching his lyre. "Are you a specter, or are you... the king?"

The figure stepped closer, …

Maybe It's a Grave

hafiz Feb. 5, 2024, 4:43 p.m.

من مست و تو دیوانه، ما را که برد خانه؟
من چند تو را گفتم کم خور دو سه پیمانه؟

I am drunk and you are crazy, who took us home?
How much did I tell you to drink less, two or three cups?

Hafez

Story:

We were at the rooftop party, enjoying the music and the view. You had a glass of wine in your hand, and I had a bottle of beer. You looked at me with a mischievous smile and said, "Let's play a game. Every time the DJ changes the song, we drink."

I agreed, thinking it would be fun. But I didn't realize how fast the songs were changing, or how strong the drinks were. Soon, we were both feeling the effects of alcohol. You started to dance wildly, spinning and jumping around. I tried to keep up with you, but I felt dizzy and nauseous. I …

Two Names, A Thousand Eyes

hamed Jan. 24, 2025, 6:52 p.m.

“Meet Aurora and Atlas,” the caption read, accompanied by a photo of two tiny hands curled around their mother’s fingers. The image radiated warmth, but the moment TV star Emily Hart hit “post,” she felt the familiar knot in her stomach tighten.

The response was immediate. Comments and likes poured in by the thousands, a flood of heart emojis, congratulations, and, inevitably, opinions.

“Beautiful names! So unique!”
“Atlas? Really? Poor kid.”
“Twins?! How does she look that good already?”
“She’ll probably hire ten nannies.”

Emily locked her phone and leaned back in the nursery’s rocking chair, her gaze drifting to the crib where her newborns slept. Aurora’s tiny lips twitched as if dreaming, while Atlas made the smallest of sighs, his hand brushing against his sister’s.

Her husband, Jake, peeked into the room, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. “How’s it going in here?” he whispered.

“They’re perfect,” she murmured, but her voice …

Learn Finance

dehongi Jan. 17, 2024, 7:06 a.m.

Ali was not like other kids. He lived in a busy city, surrounded by skyscrapers and traffic, but he dreamed of money. He wanted to know how it worked, how to make it, and how to use it wisely.

His parents taught him the basics of finance: earn, save, spend. They gave him chores and paid him for his work. Ali learned fast and looked for more ways to earn. He ran errands for his neighbors, charged a small fee, and built a reputation. He saved some of his money and invested the rest in small projects, like selling toys or tutoring.

Ali grew up with a passion for entrepreneurship. He budgeted his money, tracked his income and expenses, and understood supply and demand. He started a lawn mowing business and expanded it to include landscaping and snow removal. He invested in stocks and bonds and diversified his portfolio.

Ali's …

The Last Coal Worker

hamed Jan. 14, 2025, 4:21 p.m.

Adi stood on the edge of the empty mine, the vast crater stretching before him like an open wound. Dust clung to his boots and his hands, even though it had been months since the machines stopped roaring. The silence felt unnatural.

For thirty years, he had worked these pits, carving black veins from the earth that powered cities he’d never seen. The coal was life—it paid for his children’s schooling, his parents’ medicine, and the simple house in the village where his wife planted flowers. Now, it was nothing.

Indonesia was moving on. “Green energy,” they called it. Solar farms and wind turbines were sprouting where smokestacks once stood. The government offered training programs, new skills for a cleaner future. Adi had attended one last week, sitting awkwardly in a classroom filled with younger men and women. They talked about batteries and circuits, things he barely understood. …

The Roc’s Egg

hamed Jan. 19, 2025, 5:55 p.m.

Dr. Amir Rahimi had seen many things in his years of studying climate change, but nothing had prepared him for the discovery that lay beneath the shifting sands of the Persian Gulf coast.

It was the dry season, the sun hanging low in the sky like a burning coin. His research team had been out on a routine survey, mapping the effects of coastal erosion, when one of the workers, Morteza, had spotted something strange protruding from the earth. It looked like a massive rock—smooth, rounded, and impossibly large.

Amir knelt down, his heart quickening as he ran his hand over the surface. The fossilized shell was cold and textured, unlike any geological formation he had ever encountered. He dusted off the sand, revealing more of its shape, his mind racing with the possibilities.

“This can’t be real,” Morteza muttered, his eyes wide.

The others gathered around, but Amir was …