The Dinosaur 🦖 ⏰ by Augusto Monterroso
When he woke up, the dinosaur was still there.
Unkown Title ✨🌌 by unkown Grade 7 student
The stars looked beautiful until they started blinking back.
Unkown Title 🪞👀 by unknown Grade 5 student
My reflection blinked. I didn't.
Knock ✊🚪 by Frederic Brown
The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. He heard a knock on the door.
The Invention of the Mirror 💡🪞by Simon Rich
When the mirror was first invented, everyone was very excited. They thought it would be a great tool for self-improvement and deep reflection.
But within ten minutes of its release, the entire population of the village had stopped working to check if their hair looked better pushed to the left or to the right.
The harvest failed, the cows went unmilked, and the village eventually starved to death. But as they lay there, weak and hungry, they all agreed on one thing: they had never looked more dramatic or misunderstood.
The Animal 🐹🐟 by Simon Rich
The fourth graders were very excited to take home the classroom hamster, Barnaby, for the weekend. But by Monday morning, Barnaby was gone.
“He escaped!” cried the children. “He’s free!” cheered the teacher.
Meanwhile, under the radiator, Barnaby was currently wearing a thimble as a helmet and sharpening a toothpick into a spear. He didn’t want “freedom” in the woods; he wanted to reclaim the Goldfish cracker territory currently held by the dust bunnies, and he wasn't planning on taking any prisoners.
The Caretaker 🐶🪨 by B.J. Novak
I told my parents I could handle the responsibility of a pet rock. I promised to feed it, walk it, and never let it run away. For three days, I was the perfect owner. But then, tragedy struck: I left the rock on the kitchen table and went to school. When I came back, the rock hadn't moved an inch.
“It's depressed!” I screamed.
My mom told me it was just a rock, but I knew better. It was clearly judging my choice of snacks from across the room. By Friday, I had to release it back into the wild (the driveway) because the psychological pressure of its silent judgment was ruining my social life.
My Daughter Learned to Count 🖐🎂 by RealScience87
My daughter woke me around 11:50 last night. My wife and I had picked her up from her friend Sally’s birthday party, brought her home, and put her to bed. My wife went into the bedroom to read while I fell asleep watching the Braves game.
“Daddy,” she whispered, tugging my shirt sleeve. “Guess how old I’m going to be next month.”
“I don’t know, beauty,” I said as I slipped on my glasses. “How old?”
She smiled and held up four fingers.
It is 7:30 now. My wife and I have been up with her for almost 8 hours. She still refuses to tell us where she got them.
The Worm 🐛🍚 by Alice L.
At lunchtime in class, I once made a mess on my desk and needed a tissue. My teacher had a box of tissues on her desk, so I got up to get one. When I was about to take a tissue from the box, I saw a very scary thing. Inside my teacher’s rice bowl, something wiggled around—it was a RICE WORM, which blended in nicely with the rice.
“Oh no,” I thought.
I was about to say something to my teacher, but in that moment she scooped up the worm with rice and then chewed crunchily. I just stared at her in shock, thinking if I should tell her what she just ate. However, I never got the chance, as she yelled, “Alice, go back to your seat and finish your lunch.”
I just stared at the white trickle of drool that leaked from the corner of her mouth and offered my tissue. She took it and thanked me. I hurried back to my seat and couldn’t care less about the mess on my table or finishing my rice.
I hate it when my brother Charlie has to go away 👦 🏥 by Kerry H.
I hate it when my brother Charlie has to go away.
My parents constantly try to explain to me how sick he is. That I am lucky for having a brain where all the chemicals flow properly to their destinations like undamned rivers. When I complain about how bored I am without a little brother to play with, they try to make me feel bad by pointing out that his boredom likely far surpasses mine, considering his confine to a dark room in an institution.
I always beg for them to give him one last chance. Of course, they did at first. Charlie has been back home several times, each shorter in duration than the last. Every time without fail, it all starts again. The neighborhood cats with gouged out eyes showing up in his toy chest, my dad’s razors found dropped on the baby slide in the park across the street, mom’s vitamins replaced by bits of dishwasher tablets.
My parents are hesitant now, using “last chances” sparingly. They say his disorder makes him charming, makes it easy for him to fake normalcy, and to trick the doctors who care for him into thinking he is ready for rehabilitation. That I will just have to put up with my boredom if it means staying safe from him.
I hate it when Charlie has to go away. It makes me have to pretend to be good until he is back.
Timekeeper ⌚️⏳ by gridster2
He had been given the watch on his tenth birthday. It was an ordinary grey plastic wristwatch in every respect except for the fact that it was counting down.
“That is all of the time you have left in the world, son. Use it wisely.”
And indeed he did. As the watch ticked away, the boy, now a man, lived life to the fullest. He climbed mountains and swam oceans. He talked and laughed and lived and loved. The man was never afraid, for he knew exactly how much time he had left.
Eventually, the watch began its final countdown. The old man stood looking over everything he had done, everything he had built.
5. He shook hands with his old business partner, the man who had long been his friend and confidant.
4. His dog came and licked his hand, earning a pat on the head for its companionship.
3. He hugged his son, knowing that he had been a good father.
2. He kissed his wife on the forehead one last time.
1. The old man smiled and closed his eyes.
Then, nothing happened. The watch beeped once and turned off. The man stood standing there, very much alive. You would think that in that moment he would have been overjoyed. Instead, for the first time in his life, the man was scared.
The Cabin 🏚️🖼️ by Jessica Rhoades
A hiker decided to go on a hike by himself. Something he was not very used to. The whole day was normal. Trees and bushes engulfed his surroundings. He enjoyed being outdoors in the mountains. Nothing seemed strange to him, that was until he was making his way back to his car. He figured an eight hour hike was good enough. The sky was already getting dark and he needed to get back, fast. What was odd was how much he didn’t recognize the trail back.
He began to panic. Night had already taken over and all he had was a flashlight and no clue on how to get back. He knew it was already too late and too dangerous to keep going through the perilous forest. He began to worry that he would have no shelter for the night when almost luckily enough, he stumbled across a broken-down cabin.
It was dark, and seemed like no one had visited it in years, but he knew it was the only place where he could rest until daylight, especially since his flashlight was running out of battery. He knocked on the door a few times but no one answered, so he let himself in where strangely enough, a perfect bed fitted for one person awaited him in the center. He knew that if the owner came back he could explain himself, he was sure that the owner wouldn’t mind or was probably dead.
So he went ahead and got himself comfortable in bed. As he tried to sleep, he couldn’t ignore the collection of paintings around the room; portraits of strange looking people all peering at him, each wearing a smile that sent chills up his spine. Not too long after his exhaustion from the hike got the best of him and he was able to ignore the faces.
The next morning he got up early and was shocked to see that there were no paintings around the room, but windows…
Shelter ⛺️🥾 by Jennifer Storm
When her manager announced a team-building hike up England's highest mountain, she thought it would be fun. The morning started perfectly—warm sunshine, clear skies, good company. The group reached the summit within a few hours, laughing and taking photos.
That's when the trouble started. She had bought new hiking boots just days before and hadn't broken them in. Her feet became sore and painful blisters developed.
Hiking uphill was bearable. Walking downhill became intolerable with each step. Her colleagues, hungry and thirsty, wanted to head back as soon as possible. They got annoyed by her constant need for breaks. On top of that, the sun had started to set. So they decided to leave her behind and go ahead. Only one colleague stayed to support and motivate her.
After a while, the weather turned. Lightning cracked and thunder growled, announcing a storm. The two women panicked and tried to speed up as much as fatigue, pain, and a narrow path would allow. Around the next corner they spotted a tent.
Scared about not making it down before the storm hit and with darkness closing in, they approached and made themselves known. A man unzipped the door and emerged. She explained their situation and asked for shelter. He kindly agreed.
Relieved, she peeled off her aching boots and stepped inside—cozy and warm. They gratefully accepted the hot soup and snacks he offered. A deep tiredness settled over them soon after, and both women fell asleep.
Meanwhile, their colleagues arrived back in the village. When it got late and the two hadn't shown up, they called for help. The local rescue team said the storm made any search too dangerous—they'd have to wait until morning.
When they reached the spot the next day, the only thing they found were the women's hiking boots.
No more grapes 🍇 by Gloria M.
This morning, the world woke up to a strange and shocking discovery: grapes no longer exist.
Around the globe, news outlets are calling it “The Great Grape Vanishing,” as scientists race to uncover what went wrong. From vineyards in Napa Valley to fruit bowls in Tokyo, not a single grape can be found. Red, green, Concord, seedless—it doesn’t matter. All have vanished without a trace.
Winemakers are stunned. Grape juice companies are issuing emergency press releases. Even school lunchrooms are scrambling to replace tiny boxes of raisins with something—anything—else.
“They were there yesterday,” said one vineyard owner in southern France. “And today? Nothing but empty vines and broken hearts.”
Farmers report that the vines themselves are still growing, looking healthy and green. But where the clusters of grapes should be, there’s only empty stems. Some say they disappeared overnight. Others claim they never grew at all this season. No pests, no disease—just absence.
People around the world are reacting with disbelief—and a growing sense of unease. Wine cellars are being raided. Supermarkets are rationing their last remaining bags of frozen grapes. TikTok is filled with users mourning their fruit salads.
One somber post simply reads, “The gods have abandoned us.”
Scientists are baffled. Soil samples, climate models, and satellite imagery offer no clues. Some suspect a genetic mutation has wiped out the plant’s ability to produce fruit. Others whisper about a mysterious ecological cascade.
In the meantime, desperate efforts are underway to replicate the taste and texture of grapes using other fruits. So far, nothing quite compares.
“Cranberries are too tart. Blueberries are too mushy,” said one snack food developer. “We can try, but it’ll never be the same.”
Still, amid the panic, there is hope. Botanists are combing through seed banks. Chemists are studying preserved grape DNA. And across the globe, people are raising their glasses—not of wine, but sparkling water—and toasting to a future where grapes might grow again.
Until then, we’ll have to adapt, stay resilient, and maybe get used to eating a lot more apples.
They're Made out of Meat 🥩👽 by Terry Bisson
"They're made out of meat."
"Meat?"
"Meat. They're made out of meat."
"Meat?"
"There's no doubt about it. We picked several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, probed them all the way through. They're completely meat."
"That's impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars."
"They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don't come from them. The signals come from machines."
"So who made the machines? That's who we want to contact."
"They made the machines. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Meat made the machines."
"That's ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You're asking me to believe in sentient meat."
"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in the sector and they're made out of meat."
"Maybe they're like the Orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage."
"Nope. They're born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their life spans, which didn't take too long. Do you have any idea the life span of meat?"
"Spare me. Okay, maybe they're only part meat. You know, like the Weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside."
"Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads like the Weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They're meat all the way through."
"No brain?"
"Oh, there is a brain all right. It's just that the brain is made out of meat!"
"So... what does the thinking?"
"You're not understanding, are you? The brain does the thinking. The meat."
"Thinking meat! You're asking me to believe in thinking meat!"
"Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is the whole deal! Are you getting the picture?"
"Omigod. You're serious then. They're made out of meat."
"Finally, Yes. They are indeed made out meat. And they've been trying to get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years."
"So what does the meat have in mind."
"First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore the universe, contact other sentients, swap ideas and information. The usual."
"We're supposed to talk to meat?"
"That's the idea. That's the message they're sending out by radio. 'Hello. Anyone out there? Anyone home?' That sort of thing."
"They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?"
"Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat."
"I thought you just told me they used radio."
"They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know how when you slap or flap meat it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat."
"Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do you advise?"
"Officially or unofficially?"
"Both."
"Officially, we are required to contact, welcome, and log in any and all sentient races or multibeings in the quadrant, without prejudice, fear, or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and forget the whole thing."
"I was hoping you would say that."
"It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact with meat?"
"I agree one hundred percent. What's there to say?" `Hello, meat. How's it going?' But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with here?"
"Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat containers, but they can't live on them. And being meat, they only travel through C space. Which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in fact."
"So we just pretend there's no one home in the universe."
"That's it."
"Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And the ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you have probed? You're sure they won't remember?"
"They'll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their heads and smoothed out their meat so that we're just a dream to them."
"A dream to meat! How strangely appropriate, that we should be meat's dream."
"And we can marked this sector unoccupied."
"Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any others? Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?"
"Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotation ago, wants to be friendly again."
"They always come around."
"And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the universe would be if one were all alone."