Flash Stories

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 …

Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

khayam Jan. 10, 2024, 8:13 p.m.

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

Story:

He stared at the screen, his fingers trembling. He had just sent the most important email of his life, the one that could make or break his career. He had spent months working on the project, pouring his heart and soul into it. He had sacrificed his sleep, his health, his relationships, all for this moment. He had proofread the email a hundred times, making sure everything was perfect. He had attached the file, checked the recipient, and hit send.

But as soon as he did, he realized his mistake. He had sent the wrong file. The file that contained his personal notes, his doubts, his criticisms, his frustrations. The file that revealed his true feelings about the …

What is in my best interest and what am I looking for?

hafiz Jan. 22, 2024, 3:08 p.m.

صلاحِ کار کجا و منِ خراب کجا
ببین تفاوتِ ره کز کجاست تا به کجا

دلم ز صومعه بگرفت و خِرقِهٔ سالوس
کجاست دیرِ مُغان و شرابِ ناب کجا

چه نسبت است به‌رندی صَلاح و تقوا را
سماعِ وعظ کجا نغمهٔ رَباب کجا

ز رویِ دوست دلِ دشمنان چه دریابد
چراغِ مرده کجا شمعِ آفتاب کجا

چو کُحلِ بینشِ ما خاکِ آستانِ شماست
کجا رویم بفرما ازین جناب کجا

مَبین به سیبِ زَنَخدان که چاه در راه است
کجا همی‌ رَوی ای دل بدین شتاب کجا

بشد که یاد خوشش باد روزگارِ وصال
خود آن کرشمه کجا رفت و آن عِتاب کجا

قرار و خواب ز حافظ طمع مدار ای دوست
قرار چیست صبوری کدام و خواب کجا

There is a big distance between my best interest and me who is drunk and broken.
Look at the difference in distance from where to where! Where am I and where is expediency?

My heart got upset by the monastery (the …

The Auto-Reply

hamed Jan. 9, 2025, 5:56 p.m.

Dave set his out-of-office email to: "Currently hiking Mount Everest. No access to civilization. Back in two weeks."
He was actually binge-watching Netflix in his apartment.
His boss replied: "Amazing! My brother's leading an expedition there right now. I'll tell him to look for you!"
Dave panicked and updated his auto-reply: "Update: Had to turn back. Yeti attack. Very common this season."
His boss: "Fascinating! National Geographic is there filming a Yeti documentary. They'd love to interview you!"
New update: "False alarm. Wasn't a Yeti. Just a very angry goat."
Boss: "Even better! My sister runs a viral goat video channel. She's at base camp!"
Final desperate update: "Plot twist: I'm still at my desk. The Himalayas screensaver fooled me."
Boss's reply: "I know. I'm watching you through the office window. Nice pajamas. PS: None of my siblings exist. But your creativity deserves a raise."

a villain.

ziamaiko Jan. 19, 2024, 6:49 p.m.

دیگر از شرور بودن خسته شده‌ام. (نشده‌ام.)
معنی انسان بد بودن را زمانی متوجه شدم که آرزوی مرگ شخصی را کردم. قبل از آن چنان خودم را معصوم می‌دانستم که حتی اگر شخصی بدترین ظلم را هم در حقم می‌کرد، هرگز از دستش ناراحت نمی‌شدم.
یعنی حتی اگر شخصی من را می‌کشت و من می‌توانستم به زندگی برگردم و او معذرت‌خواهی می‌کرد، من او را می‌بخشیدم.
حالا دیگر اینطور نیست. مثل اینکه یادم داده‌اند چطور خودم را دوست بدارم یا عزت‌نفس داشته باشم.
حس تنفر دارد درونم می‌جوشد. کافی‌ست احساس کنم کوچک‌ترین ظلمی در حقم شده. دوست دارم تک‌تک سلول‌های آن آدمی که باعثش شده را بسوزانم.
قبلا اگر برای مردمی مشکلی پیش می‌آمد، تمام تلاشم را می‌کردم که نجات‌شان بدهم و کمک‌شان کنم.
بارها و بارها این مکالمه را از سر گذرانده‌ام. «تو نمی‌تونی همه‌شون رو نجات بدی.»
«من می‌تونم!»
و من واقعا تمام تلاشم را برای نجات دادنشان کردم اما آدم‌ها را که می‌شناسید. نمی‌توان آن …

The Long Road Out

hamed Jan. 12, 2025, 6:05 p.m.

The roar of the flames echoed in Mia’s ears long before she saw them. The sky, once a clear blue, was now a thick, oppressive orange, choked by smoke. She gripped the steering wheel of her car, her knuckles pale, as she glanced nervously at the rearview mirror. The fire was coming, and fast.

But the road ahead was a parking lot.

Mia's pulse quickened as she surveyed the sea of cars—engine after engine, all idling, motionless, just like her. People were honking, shouting, panic rising like a tidal wave. The fire had spread across the canyon, crawling closer with every passing second. She could hear the crackling from here, smell the burning wood on the wind.

She slammed her fist on the steering wheel. Come on. Come on! The streets should have been clear by now, but all the exits were blocked.

Mia’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She …

The House That Waited

hamed Jan. 20, 2025, 6:24 p.m.

The sun hung heavy in the sky, casting an orange haze over the fields that used to be green. The air was thick with dust and the smell of burnt earth. A few years ago, they'd laughed at the idea of ever leaving. But the droughts, the heatwaves, the wildfires—they didn’t leave them much choice. Now, Mara and her family were part of the Great Migration, like millions of others, heading toward the northern cities where the climate hadn’t yet devoured everything.

They had left behind their home, the smart house that had once been the pinnacle of convenience. Automated lights, self-regulating temperature, an AI assistant that seemed almost alive. It had been a safe haven during the worst of it—the house that did everything.

But now, it was abandoned.

Or so they thought.

As they settled into their new temporary apartment, Mara unpacked the last of their belongings, her …

The Contrast

hamed Jan. 14, 2025, 5:09 p.m.

It was 9:00 a.m. when Olivia’s Zoom screen flickered to life, revealing her well-lit office corner, complete with a potted plant in the background. She smiled, adjusting her headset as she settled into her ergonomic chair. The company’s quarterly meeting was about to begin, and she was ready—after all, this was the kind of work she had dreamed of when she graduated. Remote, flexible, well-compensated. She checked her emails while waiting for the others to join, juggling deadlines for multiple high-paying contracts, all from the comfort of her minimalist apartment in the city.

A ping interrupted her thoughts. It was a reminder about her call with the client in California, the one that had promised to double her rate if she could help them build a marketing campaign for a new AI product. Olivia grinned. Opportunities were endless in this new economy. She had a digital assistant to handle her …

The Last Rainbow Serpent

hamed Jan. 20, 2025, 7:03 p.m.

In the heart of the Yarra River, where city bridges cast long shadows over its tired waters, the last Rainbow Serpent lingered. Once, Goorialla had woven through pristine streams and billabongs, painting the land with life. But the Dreamtime had shifted, and the waters were no longer pure. His shimmering scales, once vibrant with all the colors of the sky, were dulled by oil slicks and waste.

Still, he remained. He had to.

One twilight, as the horizon blushed with the last streaks of orange, a young scientist knelt by the riverbank. Her name was Kirra, and her hands trembled as she sifted through muddy water samples. The pollution choked her spirit as much as it choked the river. She had grown up hearing whispers of the Rainbow Serpent, her grandmother's voice weaving tales of its wisdom and power. But those stories felt distant now, like the stars.

Kirra froze …

The Love Letter

hamed Feb. 8, 2024, 6:28 p.m.

She found the letter in her mailbox. It was written on a fine paper, with a delicate handwriting. It was addressed to her, but it had no name or stamp. It was a love letter.

She read it with curiosity and wonder. It was full of compliments and confessions. It said she was the most beautiful and charming woman in Paris. It said she had captivated the heart and the mind of the writer. It said he wanted to meet her and to make her happy. It said he loved her.

She felt a mix of emotions. She was flattered and intrigued. She was also confused and suspicious. Who was he? How did he know her? Why did he write to her? She had no clue. She had no admirers. She had no lovers. She had no friends. She was alone.

She was a Jewish woman living in Nazi-occupied Paris. …