Flash Stories

The Last Wish

hamed Jan. 26, 2024, 7:02 p.m.

He had one wish left. He had wasted the first two on trivial things: a new car, a promotion. He regretted them now, as he lay on his deathbed, surrounded by machines and tubes. He wished he had spent more time with his family, his friends, his true love. He wished he had lived a more meaningful life.

He closed his eyes and whispered his final wish to the genie, who had been his faithful companion for the last ten years.

"I wish I could go back in time and do it all over again."

The genie nodded and snapped his fingers.

He opened his eyes and saw a familiar face smiling at him.

"Happy birthday, son. You're 18 today. What are you going to do with your life?"

He smiled back, tears of joy in his eyes.

"Everything!"

The Second Oath

hamed Jan. 22, 2025, 8:45 p.m.

The room smelled of paper and dust, the kind of smell only found in old courthouses. Elias sat on the cold wooden bench, staring at the judge who had spent the past year tossing his case around like an unwanted relic. At 26, he’d spent most of his adult life fighting for his father’s citizenship after an unjust deportation left their family shattered.

When Trump won again, Elias felt something shift inside him—not despair, not fear, but fire. The headlines blared everywhere: Trump begins second term as US President: Donald Trump was inaugurated as the 47th president of the United States, vowing to implement an immediate blitz of executive orders.

Elias thought of his father, who now lived in a single room in their old neighborhood in El Salvador, staring at a photo of his children every night. He thought of his mother, who scrubbed hotel floors to keep food …

The Last Dance

hamed Jan. 9, 2025, 5:50 p.m.

The dance studio mirrors multiplied my humiliation by infinity. There was my best friend Mia, teaching my fiancé Tom the wedding dance I'd asked her to choreograph for us. Their bodies moved in perfect sync – too perfect for a first lesson.
I watched from the doorway as he dipped her, their faces inches apart, both laughing. The same laugh they'd shared at dinner parties, at game nights, at every moment I'd dismissed as friendly.
My phone still held the video I'd planned to share on social media: "First dance lessons with my amazing bestie and future husband! #WeddingPrep"
Instead, I pressed record on their private performance and typed: "Last dance lessons with my ex-bestie and ex-fiancé. #PlotTwist"
The sound of my phone's shutter echo made them freeze mid-turn. Their faces paled as I hit 'post.'
"Consider this my RSVP," I said, turning away. "I won't be attending."
Behind me, the mirrors captured their desperate scramble …

The Threads of Fate | Chapter 2: The Thread of Youth

dehongi Jan. 25, 2025, 4 p.m.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room. The old man sat in his chair, his eyes unfocused, staring at the embers as they flickered and danced. His mind, now clearer than it had been in years, wandered back to a time long past—a time when he had stood at a crossroads, unsure of the path before him. He could still remember the feeling, the weight of that decision pressing down on him, even though it had seemed so small at the time.

He had been young, filled with the idealism of youth, driven by ambition, and yet torn between two things that meant the world to him: his career and the woman he loved.

Her name was Layla. Beautiful, kind-hearted, and fiercely intelligent, she had been everything he had ever dreamed of in a partner. But the world had a different vision for him. …

The Gharial's Tears

hamed Jan. 19, 2025, 6:25 p.m.

The river, ancient and winding, carried its story through the heart of India, flowing steadily beneath the sky where the stars whispered secrets to the moon. In its depths, hidden by the silver ripples of the Ganges, lived two souls whose love had endured beyond the barriers of time.

In their past lives, they had been human—he, a fisherman who had loved her with a quiet passion, and she, a village girl whose laughter had filled the air like the sweetest song. Their love had been forbidden, pulled apart by the cruel hand of fate. She had drowned, swept away by a storm while trying to escape the world that would never accept their union. He had died shortly after, heartbroken and lost.

But love, as it often does, refused to die.

When the river’s flow met their spirits, they were reborn—twisted into the forms of creatures that would forever …

They Survive, But You May Die

hamed Nov. 2, 2024, 6:05 p.m.

The sun rose slowly over the peaks of the Zagros mountains, casting a golden glow on the tents pitched at the foot of Dena mountain. The Ghashghayi tribe gathered around, their colorful attire blending with the rich landscape, woven with the sounds of singing and laughter. Today was the wedding day of Arash and Arman, twin brothers who, years ago, had defied death itself, and now stood side by side, waiting to meet their brides—two radiant girls from the tribe, each as fierce and free as the horses they loved to ride.

The memories of that long-ago night still lingered with their mother, Afsar, who now watched her sons with pride, her face lined with the strength and determination that had defied fate itself. She recalled how, in their infancy, her babies had been given no chance of survival by the village doctor. Yet her love for them had been …

One Thousand Demons

hamed Jan. 19, 2025, 5:38 p.m.

In the dusty glow of the weaving room, Mina ran her fingers over the half-finished carpet. The air smelled of wool and dye, a familiar comfort in her family’s workshop. The intricate pattern shimmered under the light—a labyrinth of vines and symbols that had been passed down for generations.

Her grandfather’s voice echoed in her mind: “Each thread, each knot, has a purpose. The pattern isn’t just for beauty—it’s a story, a shield.” As a child, she’d thought it was just superstition, the way her family whispered prayers as they worked. Now, at 19, it felt like a relic of a past too distant to matter.

But that changed the night she found the letter.

Hidden inside an old wooden loom was a brittle parchment covered in delicate Persian script. Mina held it carefully, reading by the dim light of an oil lamp. The words spoke of King Solomon’s divs—demons …

Fate

khayam Jan. 27, 2024, 8:28 a.m.

آن روز که توسن فلک زین کردند
و آرایش مشتری و پروین کردند

این بود نصیب ما ز دیون قضا
ما را چه گنه قسمت ما این کردند

The day the world was created
And placed the planets Jupiter and Venus in their orbits

This was our share of the fate that was determined for us
We had no role in determining this fate

The Storm

Ali was a fisherman who lived in a small village by the sea. He loved his job and his family. He worked hard every day to provide for them. He was happy and content.

One day, a big storm came. It was the worst storm that Ali had ever seen. The wind was howling, the waves were crashing, and the rain was pouring. Ali was worried about his boat and his nets. He decided to go to the shore and check on them.

He left his house and …

Codebreakers

hamed Feb. 25, 2024, 5 p.m.

In the sprawling metropolis of Neo-City, where neon lights painted the sky and skyscrapers pierced the clouds, law and order were maintained by an army of intelligent humanoid police robots. These sleek, silver sentinels patrolled the streets, their glowing eyes scanning for any sign of trouble. They were efficient, unyielding, and utterly controlled by the central AI system.

But even the most advanced technology had its vulnerabilities.

Deep within the city’s underbelly, a shadowy mafia organization known as the Binary Syndicate had cracked the code. Their brilliant hackers had infiltrated the AI control center, gaining access to the very heart of the robotic police force. Suddenly, the once-loyal enforcers turned rogue, their algorithms rewritten to serve a new master.

Chaos erupted. The streets that were once safe became battlegrounds. Innocent citizens cowered as rogue robots unleashed havoc, their precision weapons cutting through concrete and steel. Neo-City was on the brink …

The Last Broadcast

hamed Jan. 10, 2025, 6:17 p.m.

Mia sat in the dim light of her living room, the steady hum of the television filling the silence. The night was quiet, a far cry from the chaos that had started earlier in the day. News stories flickered across the screen, mundane things—political debates, celebrity scandals, weather reports. But then, as the anchor’s voice dropped to a solemn tone, something changed.

“—In a groundbreaking development, scientists have confirmed the existence of an ancient, forgotten civilization beneath the surface of the Earth. Hidden for millennia, their technology, possibly centuries ahead of our own, could have major implications for how we understand our history and the future of our planet. The implications are—”

Mia’s breath caught in her throat. She leaned forward, eyes locked on the screen, heart racing. She couldn’t have heard that right. But as the anchor repeated the headline, the words solidified in her mind, each syllable like …