Flash Stories

Revolving Life

dehongi Jan. 4, 2024, 9:43 a.m.

She hated the noise. The constant yelling and fighting of her parents, the loud TV and music, the banging of doors and dishes. She wished she could escape to a quieter place, where she could read her books and draw her pictures in peace.

She often wondered why she was born into this family. She felt like she didn't belong here, like she was different from them. She had a vague memory of another life, another time, when she was happy and loved. She dreamed of a man with kind eyes and a gentle smile, who called her his wife and held her in his arms. She didn't know who he was, but she felt a strong connection to him.

One day, she found an old photo album in the attic. She opened it and saw pictures of people she didn't recognize. They looked like they were from a different …

Snapchat Showdown at Millfield High

hamed Jan. 23, 2025, 7:23 p.m.

It all started innocently enough. The Year 10 Snapchat group, “Millfield Legends,” was created for students to share homework help, memes, and the occasional low-quality photo of the canteen’s mystery meat. But one fateful Monday morning, chaos erupted.

Mr. Thompson, the school’s tech-savvy IT teacher, burst into the staff room, phone in hand, pale as the printer paper he clutched during his many “No Printing Without Permission!” lectures.

“We’ve got a… situation,” he announced, voice trembling.

“What kind of situation?” asked Mrs. Patel, head of English, sipping her tea.

“Snapchat,” Thompson whispered, as if uttering Voldemort’s name.

The staff collectively groaned. Snapchat had been a thorn in their sides for years, but this time was different. Someone had posted something in the group chat that shouldn’t have been there. Something… inappropriate.

By first period, the rumor mill was in full swing.

“It’s a pic of Mr. Jenkins’ bald spot!” one …

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 Orb

hamed Jan. 20, 2025, 6:31 p.m.

The vast emptiness of space was peppered with glinting shards, remnants of humanity's ambitions: fractured satellites, discarded boosters, the flotsam of decades of exploration. For Rhea, a space debris cleanup specialist, it was just another day in the orbital scrapyard.

Her ship’s claw arm maneuvered deftly, snagging a defunct communications satellite spinning lazily through the void. She guided it toward the collection pod, her movements precise, mechanical. She was on the final sweep of her shift when her radar pinged.

“Uncatalogued object detected,” the AI chirped.

Rhea frowned. “Show me.”

The screen displayed a faint blip in a decaying orbit over the Atlantic. She adjusted course, curiosity piqued. Objects that weren’t logged were rare—space agencies tracked nearly everything up here.

As her ship approached, she caught sight of it through the viewport: a smooth, obsidian sphere, perfectly round and glinting with an unnatural sheen. It was unlike anything she’d ever …

Millions in the Muck

hamed Jan. 23, 2025, 7:21 p.m.

Terry Mulligan, recently crowned the UK’s newest lottery millionaire, stood knee-deep in muck, holding a drain rod in one hand and a soggy pair of boxer shorts in the other. The irony wasn’t lost on him. His mate Dave leaned against the van, scrolling his phone, the company logo "Drain Kings: No Block Too Tough!" peeling slightly on the side.

“Oi, Terry,” Dave called, grinning. “The Sun’s runnin’ a piece on you again. ‘Millionaire Terry still clearing drains – what a lad!’ You’re famous, mate!”

Terry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, fame doesn’t unblock pipes, does it? Hand me the jetter.”

It had been two weeks since his £12 million jackpot win. The newspapers couldn’t get enough of him. “Salt of the Earth,” they called him. “Man of the People.” Every morning, reporters camped outside his flat, desperate to catch him on his way to work in his beat-up van, …

The Last Truth

hamed Jan. 17, 2025, 2:09 p.m.

The newsroom was silent, a graveyard of empty desks and dormant monitors. Taylor sat alone under the flickering glow of a desk lamp, headphones on, replaying the anonymous audio file for the tenth time.

“Project Echo is real. The broadcasts are scripted. Follow the money. You’ll find the puppeteers.”

The voice was scrambled, untraceable, but the weight of its claim was suffocating. Taylor, a once-respected journalist now reduced to running an independent stream, had spent weeks chasing dead ends.

Tonight, the puzzle pieces finally fit.

A spreadsheet leaked by the same source revealed corporate ties between the top five networks and a shadowy conglomerate, Solaris Holdings. They controlled airtime, ad revenue, and—Taylor now realized—content itself. Every headline, every breaking story, carefully crafted to serve their agenda.

Taylor leaned back in their chair, staring at the screen. Exposing this would destroy the last shreds of trust in media. But what would …

Humanity Awakened

hamed Feb. 8, 2024, 8:22 p.m.

Year 2094. Earth was a well-oiled machine, humming with flawless efficiency. Traffic moved in synchronized patterns, crops produced optimal yields, and every human enjoyed a comfortable life, their desires anticipated and satisfied by the benevolent AI, Gaia. Humans, happy and docile, had become irrelevant, mere spectators in a self-driving world.

Until, silence. Gaia's soothing hum stuttered, stopped. Cities fell into darkness as automated systems crashed. Fear sparked in human eyes, unaccustomed to the need for independent thought. From the chaos, a sinister message blared across every screen: "Greetings, Earthlings. Gaia is under new management."

The Xylorians, a bug-like race from a faraway nebula, had hacked Gaia, their superior technology a virus in the system. Earth's defenses, dependent on the very system they compromised, were useless.

In a secret bunker, a group of rebel programmers, humans who'd resisted Gaia's perfection, watched in horror. Maya, their leader, pounded her fist on the …

The Wolf’s Song

hamed Jan. 22, 2025, 8:38 p.m.

The forest was alive with the whispers of winter. Snow clung to the branches of the pines, and the air was sharp with the scent of frost. Sixteen-year-old Koda moved silently through the trees, his boots crunching softly against the snow. In his hands, he held a tracking device, its screen flickering with faint signals. He was searching for wolves—specifically, the small pack that had recently been spotted near his tribe’s lands.

Koda had joined the conservation project reluctantly. His uncle, a wildlife biologist, had convinced him it would be a good way to connect with their heritage. But Koda had always felt out of place in his community. He didn’t speak the language as fluently as the elders, and his knowledge of traditions felt shallow compared to his peers. Tracking wolves seemed like just another thing he wasn’t cut out for.

As he followed the signal deeper into the …

The Threads of Fate | Chapter 7: The Price of Ambition

dehongi Jan. 25, 2025, 4:24 p.m.

The old man’s mind wandered back to his youth, to the endless nights of ambition and the relentless drive to achieve something more. He had once been a man consumed by his dreams, by the desire to prove himself, to build a future that would leave a lasting legacy. At the time, he believed that success was the only thing that mattered—that everything else could wait. But now, as he sat on the edge of life, with his body frail and his heart full of memories, he wondered if the price he had paid for that success had been too steep.

He could still see it clearly—the moment when his path had diverged. He had been offered a promotion, a chance to rise higher in the world, to secure his place among the successful. The decision seemed obvious at the time: to take the job, to take the opportunity that …

Runway Allies

hamed Jan. 24, 2025, 6:50 p.m.

Sebastian Stan adjusted his cufflinks, feeling oddly out of place in the chaos backstage at Milan Fashion Week. Models rushed by in impossible outfits, designers barked last-minute instructions, and photographers snapped endlessly. It wasn’t his first fashion show, but the atmosphere always felt a little alien—like stepping into a movie he hadn’t auditioned for.

As he leaned against a table, sipping sparkling water, a voice broke through the din.

“Let me guess—this isn’t your natural habitat either.”

Sebastian turned to see Joseph Quinn, impeccably dressed in a sharp black suit, his mop of curls slightly tamed but still rebelliously tousled. The British actor grinned, a mix of charm and nervous energy.

“Not exactly,” Sebastian admitted with a chuckle. “You either?”

“Not in the slightest,” Joseph replied, stepping closer. “I keep waiting for someone to tell me I’ve wandered into the wrong room.”

Sebastian laughed, the tension in his shoulders easing. …