Flash Stories

The Last Ember

hamed Jan. 12, 2025, 6:07 p.m.

Dani’s car rolled down the narrow, winding road toward her neighborhood, her hands clenched on the steering wheel. The air was thick with smoke, still hanging in the valley like a dark cloud, but the flames had moved on. She didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse.

The fire had taken everything in its path, and she had to see it for herself. No phone calls, no texts. Just the endless waiting. Her chest tightened with each mile. She wasn’t ready, but there was no more avoiding the truth.

Her house had always been her anchor—the place where she’d come back to after every heartache, where the sound of her children’s laughter echoed through the walls. It was where her mother had lived before her, where she’d raised her kids. Home.

The street was empty. There were no signs of life, no neighbors standing by their driveways. …

The Last Child

dehongi Jan. 31, 2024, 3:03 p.m.

The Last Child

She was the last child born on Earth. Her parents named her Hope, but they knew it was a futile gesture. The world was overrun by the undead, the living corpses of those who refused to die. They had consumed all the resources, polluted the environment, and waged endless wars. They had no interest in the future, only in preserving their own existence.

Hope grew up in a hidden bunker, surrounded by books, toys, and art. Her parents taught her everything they could, hoping to spark some curiosity and creativity in her. They wanted her to have a normal childhood, even if it was only an illusion.

But Hope was not like other children. She was quiet, withdrawn, and melancholic. She rarely smiled or laughed. She spent most of her time staring at the screens, watching the horrors of the outside world. She saw the undead roaming …

The Last Scoop

hamed Jan. 16, 2025, 5:26 p.m.

Ellie Harris leaned against the cold glass of her office window, staring at the city below, a sea of moving lights and fleeting faces. The newsroom behind her buzzed with the usual chaos, the hum of phones, the tapping of keyboards, and the quiet tension of deadlines looming. But today, something felt different. Something was breaking.

Her editor’s voice crackled through the intercom. “Ellie, we need that piece by five. It’s a big one. Our readers are eating it up.”

Ellie swallowed hard, her fingers resting on the keyboard without moving. The story was ready, but there was a problem—she knew the facts didn’t quite add up. She’d pieced together a report about a major tech company’s recent scandal, but her sources were shaky, their credibility questionable. The company had deep pockets, and their PR team was already spinning their narrative in the press. Ellie had a choice: to publish …

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 …

The Rosewater Vials

hamed Jan. 18, 2025, 6:56 p.m.

Lila had always been enchanted by the delicate art of perfume making, learning from her master in the small, fragrant shop tucked away in the heart of the old bazaar. The air was always filled with the sweet, heady mix of jasmine, saffron, and rose. But it was a certain vial—a small, intricately carved bottle of rosewater—that had always caught her eye. It sat on a dusty shelf in the corner of the workshop, forgotten, its glass dull and its cap sealed with age-old wax.

Her master, Karim, had never spoken of it, and when she asked, his eyes would darken. “Some memories are best left in the past, Lila,” he would say, his voice softer than usual. But as the days passed, Lila couldn’t shake the pull of the vial. There was something about it—something she couldn’t resist.

One evening, as she was cleaning the shelves, her hand brushed …

The Secret

hamed Jan. 15, 2024, 4:39 p.m.

David felt a surge of panic as he heard Sarah's footsteps approaching the bedroom. He quickly turned off the light and pretended to be asleep, hoping that she would leave him alone.

He knew that she wanted to be intimate with him, to feel his touch, his kiss, his embrace. He knew that she deserved it, that she was a loving and faithful wife, and that he was a lucky man to have her.

But he couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to be intimate with her, or with anyone. He couldn't overcome the fear that gripped his heart, the fear that stemmed from a dark secret, a secret that he had kept hidden for years.

David was a victim of childhood abuse. When he was a young boy, he had suffered at the hands of an older neighbor, who had violated him in unspeakable ways. The memories of …

Get up and give the cup!

hafiz Jan. 23, 2024, 3:14 p.m.

O bartender! Get up and give the cup!
And do not worry about the sadness of the days!

Put the cup in my hand so that I take off
My Sufi and ascetic clothes.

Although it is notoriety in the eyes of the wise
We do not want the stigma and the fame

Give the wine! How long do we want to stay in our pride and arrogance?
Dust on the head, the unfulfilled soul

The sigh of my moaning chest
The fuel of these ignorant depressed people

The insider of the secret of my lovelorn hearth
I don't see anyone not in familiar nor in stranger

My mind, conscience and heart are happy with my lover
Who took the peace from my heart suddenly and completely

Anyone who sees my love who is slim such a cedar tree
He doesn't want to look at the cypress tree in the grass.

Hafiz! Be patient day and night in …