Flash Stories

The Last Heir

hamed Jan. 10, 2025, 4:55 p.m.

Sarah Blackwood traced her fingers over the family portraits lining the mahogany-paneled hallway. First went little Tommy, found frozen in the greenhouse despite the summer heat. Then Mother, discovered at the bottom of the stairs with a broken neck – though Sarah couldn't remember those stairs ever creaking before. Father lasted longer, until the hunting accident that everyone called suspicious but couldn't prove otherwise.
At seventeen, she was the last Blackwood standing.
Mr. Peterson, their family lawyer since before her birth, had been a constant presence through each tragedy. He arranged the funerals, managed the estate, and became her legal guardian. His cold efficiency in handling their affairs had been a comfort, until she found the old photograph while cleaning out Mother's dresser.
It showed a younger Peterson at a garden party, his eyes fixed on her mother with an intensity that made Sarah's skin crawl. In every frame, he lurked in the …

Love in the Shadows

hamed Feb. 26, 2025, 5:33 p.m.

In the crowded metropolis of Nova-Serene, public displays of affection were forbidden by law. Every touch, every kiss was surveilled by omnipresent drones and recorded for the state’s strict archives. The decree was clear: love must be private, confined to whispering dark corners and secret rooms.

Ava and Leo had once celebrated their passion openly in another world—a world that no longer existed. Now, in the twilight of a society that prized obedience above all, they met in the narrow alleyways beneath flickering neon signs. Their hearts pounded with both fear and exhilaration as they brushed fingertips and exchanged soft, hurried words.

“We can’t hide forever,” Leo whispered, eyes burning with defiance as he pulled Ava close. His hand caressed her cheek—a touch that risked everything. In that stolen moment, the state’s voice fell silent, as if even the oppressive regime paused to marvel at their tenderness.

A surveillance drone …

The Blind Date

hamed Feb. 8, 2024, 6:18 p.m.

She checked her phone for the fifth time. He was late. She wondered if he had changed his mind or got lost. She felt a surge of anxiety and regret. Why did she agree to this blind date? She barely knew anything about him, except that he was a friend of a friend and that he liked books and music. She sighed and sipped her coffee, hoping he would show up soon.

He ran across the street, dodging the cars and the pedestrians. He cursed himself for being late. He had overslept and missed the bus. He hoped she was still waiting for him. He had been looking forward to this date for weeks. He had seen her picture and thought she was beautiful. He had read her profile and thought she was smart and funny. He wanted to impress her and make her like him.

He spotted her at …

Filters and Frames

hamed Jan. 24, 2025, 6:56 p.m.

The notification lit up Zoey’s phone as she scrolled through her feed in bed: “Introducing Edits: Instagram’s New Video Creation App!”

She clicked on the banner without hesitation. For months, Zoey had been struggling to stand out in the endless sea of influencers. Every trend felt like a remix of the last, every video just a slightly shinier clone. Her followers were stagnating, her engagement dwindling.

But Edits promised something different: seamless transitions, AI-assisted effects, and tools to add cinematic flair with just a swipe. Zoey downloaded it immediately.

Within minutes, she was hooked. The app’s intuitive interface turned her phone into a miniature film studio. She shot a quick morning routine video, layering in slow zooms and playful transitions. When she added a dreamy filter and the app’s custom soundtrack, her mundane morning became a symphony of light, color, and rhythm.

She posted it with a simple caption: “Testing …

City Office Reopening Mayhem

hamed Jan. 22, 2025, 9:20 p.m.

The city office had been closed for months, and on the first day back, Marcy, the office manager, could already feel the tension building. The smell of stale coffee and forgotten paperwork lingered in the air as she walked in, greeting the lone janitor who was still attempting to mop around the rows of cubicles, clearly unsure if this was part of his duties.

"It's happening," Marcy muttered under her breath as she adjusted her glasses and glanced at the calendar on the wall, the one that still read March 2020. No one had bothered to update it during the lockdown. “The reopening. The revolution of bureaucracy.”

The first sign of impending chaos came when Roger, the IT guy, walked in with a box labeled "New Computers" and a look of terror in his eyes.

“I have no idea how these work. The cables are all tangled, and someone left …

He had traveled too far

hamed Jan. 30, 2024, 7:55 p.m.

The Time Traveler

He had always wanted to see the future. He had spent years working on his time machine, hoping to witness the wonders of human civilization in the next millennium. He had set the date to January 1, 3000, and pressed the button.

He expected to see flying cars, towering skyscrapers, and dazzling holograms. Instead, he saw nothing but dust and ruins. He stepped out of his time machine and looked around. He was in the middle of a deserted city, with no signs of life or technology. He felt a cold wind blowing through his hair and a chill in his bones.

He checked his time machine's display. It showed the correct date and location. He had arrived in New York City, but it was not the New York City he knew. It was a wasteland, a graveyard of humanity.

He wondered what had happened. Had there …

The Showdown

hamed Jan. 29, 2025, 6:32 p.m.

Scene: The office break room. It’s mid-afternoon. Two coworkers, Tim and Sarah, are grabbing coffee. The vibe is slightly awkward. Tim, a staunch conservative, is sipping his coffee with a smug look. Sarah, the liberal firebrand, enters and immediately locks eyes with him. The Biden administration has ended, and it’s Tim’s time to shine.

Tim: (smirking) “So, uh... how’s life under the new administration, Sarah? Feeling... safe and heard?”

Sarah: (rolling her eyes) “Oh, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Tim: (nodding slowly) “It’s like Christmas came early. You know, it’s been a whole few years of ‘reality checks’ under your guy, but now? Well, now, I think it’s time for the pendulum to swing back, wouldn’t you agree?”

Sarah: (mockingly) “Oh, swing back, huh? To the days of alternative facts and orange spray tans?”

Tim: (sipping his coffee) “Hey, don’t knock the spray tan. It’s a work of art.”

Sarah: …

The Nightingale’s Last Song

hamed Jan. 19, 2025, 5:14 p.m.

The old woman sat in her weathered armchair, its floral fabric faded by decades of sunlight streaming through the window. Her name was Shirin, but to her granddaughter Laleh, she was simply Maman Bozorg. The aroma of brewed saffron tea lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of rosewater from the sweets they had shared earlier.

Outside, the city of Tehran hummed with its usual nighttime symphony—distant car horns, the faint wail of a street vendor, and the wind whispering through the leaves of the sycamore trees lining their quiet lane. But inside, there was silence.

Laleh sat cross-legged on the rug by her grandmother’s feet, cradling a small ceramic nightingale in her hands. “Tell me again about Rostam,” she whispered.

Shirin smiled, her face a map of lines etched by time and sorrow. Her voice, though soft, carried the weight of generations. “Rostam,” she began, “was not …

Dancer

sara Jan. 18, 2024, 7:36 p.m.

She had always wanted to be a dancer. Ever since she was a girl, she would watch ballet videos and practice in her room. She loved the grace, the beauty, the joy of movement. She applied to the best dance schools, and got accepted to one of them. She was thrilled to pursue her passion.

But then, the pandemic hit. She had to stay at home, away from her friends, her teachers, her studio. She felt like she had lost her purpose. She missed dancing so much. She tried to keep up with online classes, but it was not the same. She felt lonely, bored, depressed.

One day, she decided to do something different. She took her laptop and went to the park, where she found a quiet spot under a tree. She connected to the internet, and joined a virtual dance class. She saw other dancers from around the …

Love Born from Ashes and Embers

hamed Jan. 12, 2025, 6:25 p.m.

The air was thick with smoke and the lingering scent of charred wood. A soft, eerie silence hung over the once-vibrant neighborhood, now reduced to a patchwork of rubble and scattered remnants. The fire had come quickly, devouring everything in its path. But amidst the destruction, there was a quiet resilience, a sense of rebuilding not just homes, but lives.

Lena stood at the edge of what had once been her house. Her fingers brushed the edges of a melted frame, its corners blackened, the photograph inside forever lost. She had come here hoping to find something—a token of the past that could somehow remain untouched by the flames. But everything was gone. Her heart felt heavy, crushed by the weight of what she'd lost: not just the house, but the life she had once known.

But it was then, as she stood among the ruins, that she saw him.