Flash Stories

The Golden Proposal

hamed Jan. 25, 2025, 3 p.m.

The Golden Globes buzzed with its usual glitz and glamor, but tonight felt electric. Rumors swirled: Tom Holland and Zendaya had something special planned. They arrived hand in hand, Zendaya’s shimmering silver gown reflecting every camera flash, while Tom looked dashing in a tailored black tux.

As the night unfolded, the rumors proved true. When Tom won for Best Actor, he invited Zendaya to the stage, his voice trembling as he reached into his pocket. The audience gasped as he knelt on one knee, the spotlight making the diamond ring sparkle like a star.

“Zendaya,” he began, his voice breaking slightly. “You’ve made my life more magical than I could have ever imagined. Will you marry me?”

Tears filled her eyes as she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered, the microphone catching her words just enough for the crowd to erupt in cheers.

Confetti rained, violins played, and the world collectively swooned. …

The Last Message

hamed Jan. 30, 2025, 7:02 p.m.

Liam’s phone buzzed at 2:13 a.m.

It was from Noah.

"I'm still here. Find me before they do."

Liam sat up, heart pounding. Noah had been missing for two weeks. The police had given up. His parents had stopped hoping. But here was a message—impossible, urgent.

He forwarded it to Harper and Zane. Within minutes, they were on a group call.

“This has to be a prank,” Zane whispered.

Harper disagreed. “Look at the message timestamp. It came from his number.”

They followed the only clue they had—Noah’s last known location, an abandoned radio station on the edge of town.

By 3 a.m., they were standing outside the rusting building. Liam hesitated before stepping in. The air was thick with dust and something else—something wrong.

Harper’s phone vibrated. Another text.

"Too late. They're coming."

The door behind them slammed shut.

Zane gasped. “What was that?”

Then, from the shadows, a …

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 …

Viral Truths

hamed Jan. 23, 2025, 6:13 p.m.

Ariana held her phone up to the ring light, her thumb hovering over the record button. Behind her, a towering bookshelf served as the backdrop—perfectly curated with faux-intellectual appeal. A framed quote on her desk read: "The truth will set you free."

She hit record.

“Hey, Truth Tribe! It’s Ariana. Today, we’re diving into something wild—this leaked document suggests a major tech company is spying on its users. If this is true, it could change everything.”

She paused, tilting her head just enough to signal curiosity, not certainty. It was her signature move, designed to spark engagement. Be relatable, not preachy, her branding coach had advised.

The video uploaded, and within an hour, it had 200,000 views. Comments flooded in:
“Finally, someone brave enough to expose this!”
“Where’s the evidence, though?”
“Love you, Ariana! You’re saving us!”

But in her inbox sat a different kind of comment—a direct message from someone claiming to …

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 …

(still not there.)

ziamaiko Dec. 26, 2023, 6:46 p.m.

مسئله‌ای که زیاد ذهنم را مشغول می‌کرد این بود که چرا هیچ‌کس اهمیت نمی‌دهد. برای هیچ‌کس مهم نبود ما مانند زندانی‌ها در این مکان زندگی می‌کنیم؟ از دنیای بیرون، تنها چند کتاب و دست نوشته داشتیم. جز چندین بچه‌ی کوچک، هیچ انسان دیگری آنجا نبود. تمام کودکان هشت سال به بالا بودند. والدینی نداشتند. خاطراتی هم نداشتند. حتی دلیلی برای زندگی هم نداشتند. فقط توسط رباط‌ها برای آینده آماده می‌شدند. کدام آینده؟ هیچ‌کداممان نمی‌دانستیم.
بی‌هوا در حال گشتن در محوطه بودم که پاترونی با سرعت از کنارم گذشت.
پاترون‌ها رباط‌های باهوشی بودند که مارا بزرگ می‌کردند. ما انسان بودیم. از آنها باهوش‌تر بودیم. پس چرا تمام زندگی ما دست آنها بود؟
پاترون را دنبال‌ کردم و در همان حین گفتم :
「به نظرت می‌تونم نویسنده بشم، بیست و هشت؟」
او فقط بی‌هوا از کنارم گذشت.「اوه نه. تو نمی‌تونی برای خودت شغل انتخاب کنی. 'اون‌ها' تصمیم‌گیرنده‌اند.」
'آن‌ها' هرکسی می‌توانستند باشند. کسانی که برای آینده‌ی ما تصمیم می‌گیرند. …

Author Book Signing Catastrophe

hamed Jan. 22, 2025, 9:23 p.m.

The line stretched out the door and around the corner, a solid stream of excited readers eagerly clutching their copies of The Enchanted Forest—the highly anticipated fantasy novel by debut author Clara Winters. The bookstore was packed to the brim, the air buzzing with anticipation. Clara sat behind a table stacked with signed copies, her nervous fingers tapping the pen in front of her.

Her first book signing. Her first real book signing.

“I can do this,” she whispered to herself, forcing a smile. “It’s just a few hours. Just... a few hours.”

Her publicist, Doug, stood beside her, wearing an outfit that screamed “I’m professional, but not too professional.” His constant pacing around the table didn’t help Clara’s nerves. She needed the comfort of routine—sitting in her quiet office with a cup of tea, writing in peace. But here she was. A packed room. Hundreds of people. Her book. …

The Silent Arena

hamed Jan. 15, 2025, 5:03 p.m.

Yumi stood at the edge of the track, her heart pounding with anticipation. The Tokyo 2020 Olympics, held a year later, had been nothing like the Games she’d imagined. There were no roaring crowds, no energetic cheers, no vibrant national flags waving in the air. Just the quiet hum of an empty stadium, the muffled echo of footsteps, and the occasional beep of a camera clicking.

This wasn’t the Tokyo she had dreamed of—where she’d envisioned the cheers of thousands lifting her to victory. Instead, she found herself competing in the quietest Olympics in history, held under the heavy weight of pandemic restrictions.

As she adjusted her racing bib, Yumi tried to block out the isolation that had defined the lead-up to these Games. The months of quarantine, of training in sterile gyms, of virtual team meetings with her coach—everything had felt distant, disconnected. Even her family, usually her loudest …

A Flower in Space

hamed Jan. 16, 2025, 6:05 p.m.

The hum of the spacecraft’s systems was the only sound as Commander Emma Harris and her crew drifted silently in the vast expanse of space. They were millions of miles from Earth, orbiting in the silence of the cosmos. The distant stars and the swirling blue of Earth below seemed to mock the stillness of their confined world.

Emma sat by the small hydroponic garden, her gloved fingers gently adjusting the life-supporting system that nurtured the tiny flower growing in its container. It was the first successful plant to bloom on the station, the culmination of months of experiments and failures. The flower, a simple zinnia, was the first testament to life flourishing in the vacuum of space.

“Can you believe it?” Lieutenant Marcos Alvarez’s voice broke through the quiet, his voice soft yet full of wonder. He floated nearby, his gaze fixed on the delicate petals that had slowly …

Reconnection

hamed Jan. 15, 2024, 4:25 p.m.

Anya felt a pang of loneliness as she watched the couple walk by. They were holding hands, smiling, and laughing, oblivious to the world around them. They looked so happy, so in love.

They were not human.

They were Synths, hyper-realistic humanoid robots that had taken over the role of human companionship. Synths were designed to fulfill every human need and desire, from providing intellectual stimulation to offering unwavering emotional support. Their ability to adapt to any personality and preference made them irresistible companions, leaving real human relationships feeling flawed and unpredictable.

Anya hated Synths. She hated the way they looked, sounded, and felt. She hated the way they pretended to be human, when they were nothing but machines. She hated the way they had replaced human connection, making people forget what it meant to be alive.

Anya was one of the few people who still valued human relationships. She …