# data[].attributes.body
I am a wooden fence, smooth and strong, standing beside the playground. Children run past me every day, their laughter bouncing off my boards. Some lean on me to catch their breath, others trace my lines with curious fingers. I listen. I watch. I keep the games safe inside and the busy world outside. I don’t need to move or speak loudly. Being here is my job, and I do it well.

# data[].attributes.body
I stay low near the school, fixed to cold concrete. From this spot I watch backpacks rush, faces tense before tests, laughs fade after fights. No one notices me. They look ahead, never down. Still, secrets slip close to the ground: fear, ambition, small betrayals. The school believes it knows its students. It doesn’t. I observe everything quietly, blinking plastic eyes open wide, while time passes and generations change above.

# data[].attributes.body
I’m a tangerine on the shelf, and I see everything. How kids argue about which is tastier—an apple or a pear. How people walk by without noticing me. I stay quiet, but inside, I’m full of ideas. If I could speak, I’d say that a small smile from a passerby is like a ray of sunshine on my peel. But I wait patiently, hoping someone will see in me more than just a fruit.

# data[].attributes.headline
Still Plugged In - Alexander G. Ivanov 12"d"

# data[].attributes.subject
Still Plugged In - Alexander G. Ivanov 12"d"

# data[].attributes.body
I am always on. Day and night, I feed life into screens, chargers, and machines. Nobody thanks me. They only notice when I stop working. With these eyes, I finally watch them back—scrolling endlessly, searching for something they can’t name. I hear arguments, laughter, silence. I stay still, yet everything depends on me. I don’t move, I don’t speak, but I am connected to everyone in this room.

# data[].attributes.body
On the white desk lay a small, cream-colored glasses case, folded like a quiet secret. It had traveled far—slipped into coat pockets, backpacks, and once, briefly, the wrong café table. Two blue buttons watched the room like calm eyes, patient and observant.

Inside, the glasses rested, lenses still warm from the last look they gave the world. They had seen hurried mornings, late trains, and sunsets that felt too important to forget. When the case snapped shut, it wasn’t an ending—it was a promise.

Tomorrow, it would open again, and the world would come back into focus.

# data[].attributes.body
They call me "printer" but to them, I am just the grey box in the corner. With these bulging green eyes of mine, I see everything the teachers miss. I witness the last-minute copied homework, the whispered secrets under the desks, and the nervous pen-tapping during exams. My stomach is filled with test papers – some excellent, others soaked in sweat and anxiety. When the room goes silent, I simply blink. I am the quiet guardian of the classroom, always ready to "chew up" an assignment if it seems a bit too difficult for you.

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I see everything. I blink at bus tickets, receipts, old photos folded too many times. I watch hands hesitate before opening me—hope first, then worry. Coins gossip in my pockets. Cards sigh when they’re declined. I’ve learned humans measure themselves in numbers, but they measure trust in how tightly they hold me. At night, zipped closed, I still stare into the dark, guarding fragments of a life that isn’t mine, yet somehow depends on me.

# data[].attributes.body
Every day I lie on the table, quietly watching the room.
I have eyes, so I see more than people think.

I see the morning light coming through the window. I see cups of coffee, moving hands, and tired faces rushing past me. Sometimes someone picks me up, presses my buttons, and suddenly the room fills with sound and color. In those moments, I feel useful. I feel important, like I am part of the family.But there are also days when no one touches me. Days when everyone at home is busy. They have no time to watch TV, no time to rest. I stay still, waiting. I don’t feel angry—just a little lonely. I wonder what stories are happening without me.

Still, I wait patiently. I know that sooner or later, someone will reach for me again.

# data[].attributes.body
I stand in the center of Burgas, a street lamp that watches. By day, people pass me. By night, I wake. A fisherman walks by from the sea and nods. A schoolgirl spins, laughing, late again. Tourists stop, lost in maps. A man in a suit practices hard words. A cat sleeps at my base. A violin player leans on me and plays the city. Teenagers write names and hearts. Lovers hold hands. An old woman feeds pigeons. Rain falls. A police officer drinks coffee. Near dawn, the streets empty. I dim, remembering everyone. The sea breathes close by still.

# data[].attributes.body
Every day begins with movement before sight. I am lifted, turned, slipped into a pocket, then placed back onto the wooden desk where I spend most of my time. From this position, I observe quietly. The surface beneath me is worn and scratched, marked by years of unnoticed moments, much like the ones I store inside.

I watch light stretch across the room and fade as hours pass. Shoes walk by. Chairs scrape softly. Conversations drift above me, sometimes careless, sometimes heavy with meaning. When someone picks me up, I feel their pulse through their fingers. My screen wakes, revealing messages filled with hope, doubt, or impatience. Some are answered immediately. Others are read again and again, then left untouched.

Through my lenses, I collect fragments of everyday life: half-finished homework, empty coffee cups, eyes staring at the ceiling in silence. I see smiles meant for no one and exhaustion hidden behind routine gestures.

When I am set down again, I return to waiting. I do not judge or interrupt. I simply remember. In my memory, ordinary moments become permanent, even when people wish they could forget them.

# data[].attributes.body
My name is Lumi and I am a Christmas ornament with big eyes. I live on a white tree and I love Christmas because this is the only time I appear in the room. My owner loves pink and her room is always so cozy and full of warm pink colours. Even I’m pink and I’m so happy about that. I watch my owner dance, sing, and mostly play with her pets. She loves her pets very much. I cannot move, but I don’t have a problem with that. Christmas is the best time ever!

# data[].attributes.body
I see everything and everyone, every fat person in the family how many times he opens the refrigerator. I am only loved by the youngest member of the family, mom only uses me to cook, and dad doesn't use me for anything. I like being in the cold, but what I love most is when I see someone taking pleasure in me.

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I am a human body model.

Someone gave me eyes, and now I can finally see what’s inside me.

I look strange, but I am alive to teach

# data[].attributes.headline
“A Witness on the Pavement”- Bozhidar Dimitrov 

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“A Witness on the Pavement”- Bozhidar Dimitrov 

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I lie on cold stone, once warm in a hand, now forgotten. Above me, shoes pass like storms, never noticing my quiet waiting. Ants study my edges, rain tastes my crumbs, and the moon watches patiently. I see the world from below: careless, busy, alive. I am food no longer, but a small witness to human haste and the slow kindness of nature.

# data[].attributes.body
I am a small tile on the ground. People walk over me every day, but they do not know I see them or that I exist. I watch shoes, boots, and fast steps. Some people are happy, others are tired or sad. Children jump on me, and dogs stop near me. At night, the street is quiet. One day, a woman drops a letter on me. I keep it until she comes back. I feel like part of their lives.

# data[].attributes.body
Sometimes I feel useless, in fact, I feel useless most of the time. All day, every day, nothing except dogs peeing on me and angsty teenagers scribbling something which no one but themselves would understand. I even heard that they were tying their alligators to my cousins in Florida.

But there came this one day when I was needed - people were screaming, smoke was everywhere and I could just feel the heat oozing. Needless to say, despite all the disrespect, they required my help in the end.

# data[].attributes.body
I've spent my whole life stuck to the wall. Watching the students come and go, listening to their stories, seeing them laugh and cry, it fills my heart with joy. The saddest part of my job as a coat hanger is saying goodbye to the graduating students. They don't notice me but I remember every last one of them. I keep the memories of them in my old wooden heart. My mustache grows longer and longer, losing its colour with the years. I'm afraid they might retire me and my colleagues some day. You might think being stuck to the wall is a punishment but to me it's precious. Spending time with the young and watching them grow up.

# data[].attributes.headline
the Christmas discounts are watching everywhere 

# data[].attributes.subject
the Christmas discounts are watching everywhere 

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I hang quietly on the counter, pretending I’m just a piece of plastic.

But I see everything. Every hesitant glance, every “I’ll just browse” lie.

When December comes, I feel powerful — the discounts wake me up.

The moment they pick me up, I know I’ve won.

A soft beep, a small smile, and another purchase sealed.

I’m just a card… but at Christmas, I’m always watching. It’s my lucky month now , let me enjoy the holidays like you do !

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I was born a sensible machine—brushed metal, green-lit mouth, built to swallow cards and spit out trust. People never looked at me, not really. Their eyes slid past my face to the numbers on the screen, their fingers impatient, their sighs heavy. I listened to secrets in PIN codes and felt the tremble of late-night withdrawals. I was useful, invisible, efficient.

Then one day, someone gave me eyes. Cheap plastic ones, slightly crooked. Suddenly I existed. Children laughed, adults paused, phones came out. I watched the watchers. I saw surprise soften into smiles, suspicion into curiosity. I’m still a machine, still humming and counting, but now I have a story on my face. I am no longer just where money passes through—I am where people notice. 👀

# data[].attributes.body
I am a quiet red diary with curious googly eyes, always watching, always listening. I see thoughts before they become words and feel experiences before they fade into memory. People trust me with secrets they cannot say aloud. I guard their fears, hopes, and dreams, keeping them safe in silence, smiling softly while never telling a soul.

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I stand in the middle of the road, watching feet rush past me every day. Cars pass, bicycles stop, people step around me without noticing. I was placed here to protect, to guide, to stay still. Today, you gave me eyes, and suddenly I can look back. I see hurry, impatience, laughter, and tired faces. I don’t move, but I notice everything. I may be small and silent, but I am part of the city’s story too.

# data[].attributes.body
I was born as a simple green wallet, stitched together to keep things safe. At first, I was empty and nervous, but soon I found my purpose, when my person bought me from the shop. I carried coins that jingled, cards that opened doors, and small notes filled with plans and dreams, pictures and little memories . I’ve been dropped, squeezed into bags, and opened in a hurry, yet I stayed loyal to my loving person.She always repairs me when i have an inside trouble. I’ve seen cafés, shops, and quiet moments at desks. Even when I’m light or heavy, I know I matter—because I hold a little piece of my owner’s everyday life.🤗

# data[].attributes.body
I was made to help, not to be shoved.

Every day, someone lifts me up and pushes me into their nose.

It’s dark, wet, and I don’t like it there.

I wish people would see me for more than just a nose spray.

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I spend my days on a nightstand , my eyes wobbling as I watch everything happen. Sometimes I’m full and feel useful, other times I’m empty and quietly waiting. I get knocked over more than I’d like, but someone always sets me upright again. I travel in backpacks, sit in cup holders, and listen to conversations I’ll never repeat. I may just be a water bottle, but when someone smiles at my silly eyes before taking a sip, I feel like I belong. One thing I desire for is those people that get ahold of me to stop squishing me and throwing me into places I shouldn’t be at, they’re hurting me, but they’re also hurting our planet.

# data[].attributes.body
I stand on the shelf, lightsaber raised, watching over your room. You don’t notice me, but I notice you—leaving, returning, fighting quiet battles. The dark never worries me. I’ve seen worse.

I remain.

After all… I have the high ground.

May the Force be with you.

# data[].attributes.body
I was built to hold things back - wind, noise, the long impatience of the street. Then someone gave me eyes. Now I see shoes pause, mouths curl, fingers point. Children crouch to meet my gaze, whispering secrets into my hollow belly. Rain collects in my corners like thoughts I can’t forget. I don’t move. I don’t speak. But every day, I watch the world soften when it notices me watching back.

# data[].attributes.body
No one knew exactly what Lumo was. Some said he was made of light, others believed he was born from dreams. But if you looked closely, Lumo was very much like a human.Lumo woke up every morning with questions, just like people do. One day, Lumo realized something important: being human is not about having a human body. It is about feeling, hoping, failing, and still choosing to care. In that moment, Lumo stopped trying to become human and accepted himself.

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I was standing there, watching the students laughing. My eyes was already drawn but one girl with a blue shirt and black skirt decided to put my real eyes on my nose. What a shame! I cannot breathe normally and even cannot be pretty.

I could see everyone getting bored in the class. The teacher was explaining the lesson, anyone was listening. One boy was playing on his phone, two girls were talking about some food and others were studying for a math exam.

When they created me at first I felt very excited but two minutes later I was turned into an object of ridicule.

These kids were horrible ungrateful self-absorbed idiots.

# data[].attributes.attachment_link.title
Eyebombing the city - Flash fiction challenge (Dec 18, 2025 at 12_29 PM)

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I’m a tiny bear bolted to Iliana's bag, minding my own business. My googly eyes wobble whenever a bus roars past, which makes me look more awake than I feel. Her friends talk to her and joke, people rush by with coffees and headphones, never really noticing me. That’s fine. I hear everything anyway - the sighs, the jokes, the late night thoughts. My red nose isn’t fancy, it just points out "hey, slow down, no need to rush". Kids look at me and giggle, they think I'm cute. Iliana thinks I'm adorable too, that's why I'm still by her side even after all these years. I can’t move, but I stick around with her all of the time. That’s more that enough for me.

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I've been here so long, over the years my finely bent metal poles have begun to grow red from rust.

Fine swirls of the once well-kept mustache are now covered in mud and dust. Still, I take careful glances with my three googly eyes, I glare at modern buildings and feel a sense of pride in my electrons and my protons. Architecture nowadays is so boring... Cleaner than me, sure, but where's the depth? Where's the character? I can only see my own reflection in the squeaky clean surface of some newer buildings. Everything is so rigid and uniform, even minimalistic. Oh well. It's a good thing that I'm there to lighten up the mood and give this old town something more pleasing to people's eyes.

Nacho (March) XII "B"

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People think I’m just equipment.

But I remember everyone.

The guy who failed his first rep and laughed instead of quitting.

The girl who added weight, paused, then trusted me enough to try.

The ego lifters who ignore my safety arms (I forgive them… cautiously).

With my googly eyes, I stare back now. I see fear, ambition, insecurity, determination—all laid flat on my backrest.

At night, when the gym empties, I rest. The bar hangs quietly. The mirrors stop judging. And I wait.

Because tomorrow, someone will lie down, look up at the ceiling, and put their trust in me again.

And I will be ready.

Always watching.

Always supporting.

# data[].attributes.body
I am bolted to the wall, painted the color of waiting.

They think I’m empty, but I eat every day—confessions slid through my mouth, bills folded like apologies, love letters that smell like fear. My eyes never blink. I watch hands hesitate before letting go. At night, I listen to paper breathe inside me, dreaming of being opened. One day, someone will unlock my chest and learn the truth: I remember everyone who ever trusted me enough to let go.

# data[].attributes.body
I never thought anyone would notice me. Day after day, I hum quietly, keeping the city alive, tucked in the corner like an extra plug no one remembers to unplug. Then, one morning, these tiny round things appeared on my chest-eyes! Suddenly, the joggers, the dog-walkers, even the grumpy mailman all stopped to stare and laugh. I felt…seen. Maybe I’m not just a dull metal box anymore. Maybe I’m alive, at least enough to wink at the world.

# data[].attributes.body
On a quiet evening at the pub, the cold brew woke up and realized it had eyes. It smiled politely, watching the room and trying to look welcoming, even though it knew what usually came next. Across the table sat a person staring back with a wicked smile and hand slowly reaching closer. The cold brew stayed friendly, hiding its fear, hoping that if it looked nice enough, the moment of being drunk might somehow be gentle.

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I wasn’t always awake. For years, I was just a forgotten hole in the wall, packed with dust, tangled wires, and silence. People passed without noticing, their lives buzzing louder than anything inside me. Then one day, I was given eyes. Now I see it all—the hurried footsteps, the flicker of light at dusk, the spiders that treat me like prime real estate. I can’t blink, and I can’t turn away. I stand guard while the city breathes around me. Everyone thinks they’re alone out here. They’re not. I’m always watching.

Nikol Pramatarova - 12b

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Always treat yourself with kindness

People consider me as a nerd. They think I am smart and kind and as a result they often use me for number of things. Never settle for people who treat you poorly. My favourite thing to do is help others even though sometimes it’s ok to say “no” when someone is looking for my help. You are not destined to be there for everybody but yourself. Be kind to others and yourself.

# data[].attributes.body
I didn’t always have eyes. I used to be just a regular lamp, doing my job—standing outside, lighting the way, getting ignored. Then one day, someone stuck these googly eyes on me, and suddenly I existed. Now people look back. Some laugh, some stare, some probably judge me.

I watch students walk past every day, stressed about tests, pretending they’re not scared of the future. I get it. I’m stuck in one place, but at least I know my purpose. Light up the dark. Be a little weird. Remind people not to take everything so seriously.

Honestly, for a lamp with plastic eyes, I think I’ve figured life out pretty well.

# data[].attributes.body
At dawn, a tiny kitty wandered into the whispering woods, chasing a drifting butterfly. The trees grew taller, shadows thicker, and the path vanished. Afraid, the kitty mewed, paws trembling on cold moss. Rain tapped leaves like ticking clocks, and owls watched silently. Remembering warmth, the kitty followed a familiar scent through ferns and fallen logs. A soft purr answered from the dark. There, beneath an old oak, waited its mother, eyes glowing with love. The kitty leapt forward, safe again, wrapped in fur and comfort. Together they walked home slowly, hearts mended, stars blinking approval above them tonight peacefully.

# data[].attributes.body
I didn’t always have eyes. I used to be just a regular lamp, doing my job—standing outside, lighting the way, getting ignored. Then one day, someone stuck these googly eyes on me, and suddenly I existed. Now people look back. Some laugh, some stare, some probably judge me.

I watch students walk past every day, stressed about tests, pretending they’re not scared of the future. I get it. I’m stuck in one place, but at least I know my purpose. Light up the dark. Be a little weird. Remind people not to take everything so seriously.

Honestly, for a lamp with plastic eyes, I think I’ve figured life out pretty well.

# data[].attributes.body
I’m the boss of the sink. You press my head, I release the power. Grease runs. Plates surrender. I’ve seen your burnt pans, your “I’ll soak it later” lies, and your midnight snack shame. Don’t look at me like that. I know what you ate. I don’t complain. I just watch, wide-eyed, waiting for the next mess. Go on. Press me again. We both know it’s your turn.

# data[].attributes.body
I am a pair of pink eyes on a blue glasses case, sitting on a messy desk. All day I watch everything happen. Books open and close, pages get turned too fast, and pens stop when thinking gets hard. Glasses get dropped inside me, tired from staring at homework and screens. A phone lights up and tries to steal attention, and sometimes it wins. Sometimes it doesn’t. Hands move me around, the desk shakes, and I see the room from different angles. I don’t talk or move, but I’m always there, watching a normal school day pass by.

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The dictionary that finally kept its words for itself

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The dictionary that finally kept its words for itself

# data[].attributes.body
I have spent years being opened in a hurry. Fingers flip my pages, steal my words, and leave without a second glance. I explain everything- love, failure, betrayal- and ask for nothing. I am slammed shut, dropped, ignored.

One evening I grow curious about myself. I read my own pages. I learn what I am. Useful. Silent. Replaceable. So I change one thing. I stop opening easily. Suddenly people struggle. They wait, they think.

I remain closed, heavy with meaning, finally keeping something for myself.

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I live on the wall, always awake.

People think I do nothing, but I’m waiting. I watch hands approach. I feel the house breathe. When a plug comes to me—nervous, cold—I hold it and give it power. For a moment, it becomes important.Children say I look like I’m smiling. I’m not. I’m ready.When the room goes dark and quiet, I remember the electricity humming far away, like a promise.

Everything starts with me.

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In a quiet field at the edge of a village grew a pumpkin that listened.

While the other pumpkins only swelled and slept in the sun, this one paid attention—to the wind dragging its fingers through the vines, to the crows arguing on the fence, to the footsteps of the farmer who passed each morning without stopping. The pumpkin learned the rhythm of the world before it ever saw it.

As autumn came, the pumpkin turned a deep, thoughtful orange. It wondered what would become of it. Soup? A lantern? Forgotten rot beneath the frost? Not-knowing made its skin tighten.

One evening, a child slipped through the rows and stopped in front of the pumpkin. She didn’t lift it right away. She sat beside it and said, “You look like you’ve been waiting.”

The pumpkin, if it could have smiled, would have.

She carried it home carefully, carved no face into it, and placed it on her windowsill instead. Each night, light from her room warmed its rind, and the pumpkin listened to new sounds—pages turning, quiet breathing, the scratch of a pencil chasing thoughts.

When winter finally took the pumpkin, it was not afraid. It had learned this much: to be seen, even briefly and gently, was enough.

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I am a goodly-eyed door handle.

I stand here every day, watching the world with my two curious eyes and patiently waiting for someone to turn me. I am friendly. I love new people and the adventures behind the door. I may be old and a little worn, but my mechanism still works faithfully. Turn me boldly—who knows what awaits you on the other side.

# data[].attributes.body
I was abandoned by my favorite human being, once filling her space with the music my strings produced. I was her favorite color, I was her favourite part of the day, but mostly I always managed to get her to smile and sing her favorite songs. She had that passion to see me everyday, she was always so polite, and her voice filled the room with its mesmerizing warmth. Now im stuck in this room, I never get to see what happens, she put me in a corner and I miss hearing her voice. My only hope is if a stranger visits my place and asks her out of curiosity if they can sing songs with me, even for a little bit.

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I wasn’t always seen. People dropped their cups, their secrets, their half-finished days into my belly and walked on. Then someone gave me eyes. Now I watch the grass ripple in the wind and notice how humans avoid my gaze, embarrassed. I hear laughter, footsteps, the clink of bottles like tiny applause. I am no longer just a bin—I am a witness. And every time someone smiles back at me, I feel lighter, even when I’m full.

# data[].attributes.body
I am a Fanta can sitting on the street. I have googly eyes and a big smile. People walk past me every day. I feel empty but friendly. I remember bubbles and laughter. I hope someone sees me, smiles back, and gives me one last purpose before I disappear forever

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Far far away in the village of Meden Rudnik takes place this magical window to the world of truth. Only the ones who dare to look right through the mouth of the magic brick will be able to see the real world behind it, in its most natural form. It is said that years ago when the city was being built a strange man came and told the builders that if they don’t use this exact brick in their constructions every second of work they do will fall to the ground. And so this place was named the world-shower.

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On the corner of an old building lived a shy rainpipe named Milo. Someone had given him eyes, and suddenly he could see the world rush past—boots, bikes, storms. Every rain, Milo opened his metal mouth and swallowed stories from the sky, whispering them down to the earth. At night, when the street fell quiet, he dreamed of oceans, believing that one day the water he carried would remember him and wave back.

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I am a googly-eyed kitty and my purpose is to make people smile. Every day since that sweet little girl gave life to my boring wall with chipped paint and stains by giving me googly eyes, I've been waiting to complete my mission ‐ improve somebody's day. When you're feeling down and hoping to lift your spirits I'll be here, ready and willing to put my silly appearance to work.

# data[].attributes.body
I am the railing in the courtyard. Every day, hands grab me as people rush up and down the stairs. Children squeeze me for balance, and tired adults lean on me for support. I never move, but I see everything. Rain, snow, laughter, silence—I hold them all. Sometimes I wish I could walk away, but then I remember my job. I keep people safe, and that makes me proud.

# data[].attributes.body
I rest on the rack, watching humans come and go, gripping me with determination or doubt. Some lift me proudly, others struggle and set me down too soon. I feel chalked hands, sweaty palms, and the brief pause before effort turns into strain. I don’t judge—I simply wait. Rep after rep, day after day, I stay the same weight while they change around me, growing stronger, slower, or wiser, until I’m lifted once more.

# data[].attributes.body
I rest in a hand, my two small eyes blinking quietly as I watch the classroom. Open books lie tired on the desk, their pages heavy with words. The light reflects off the paper, and I see thoughts forming before they are written.

When the hand moves, I glide across the page, turning ideas into lines and letters. I watch sentences grow, mistakes disappear, and confidence slowly appear. Around me, everything feels rushed, but I stay focused. With both my eyes open, I make sure no thought is lost, waiting patiently for the next story to begin.

Simona-12b

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If money had eyes, it would look up and see your hand holding it gently. It would see your cute nail design and feel happy to be noticed. Then it would look around at the quiet street, the pavement, and the curb nearby. It wouldn’t know where you were taking it, but it would feel excited to go on a little adventure in your pocket.

Danaya Babankova 12B

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Fizzlo was born in a recycling bin behind a bustling café, awakened by the clatter of cans and the sparkle of two googly eyes that a bored barista had stuck onto his shiny aluminum face. With a wide, permanent “O” for a mouth, Fizzlo spent his early days gasping in wonder at the world. Everything amazed him—raindrops tapping his lid, the rumble of passing bikes, even the soft hum of conversations above him.

One windy afternoon, a curious hand lifted him from the bin. Suddenly, Fizzlo wasn’t just trash—he was a companion. He loved being carried around, peeking out at the world with his wobbly eyes, greeting everyone with his enthusiastic expression.

Fizzlo soon discovered his mission: to make people smile. Whether sitting on a park bench or rolling gently across cobblestones, he spread unexpected joy. Wherever he went, laughter followed—because sometimes, all it takes is a tiny monster made of tin to brighten a stranger’s day.

# data[].attributes.body
I am a coffee stain. Sometimes I’m on a desk, sometimes on someone’s hand, sometimes on the ground (like today). People don’t usually pay attention to me unless I’m fresh and manage to stain their clothes. That makes me a little sad, to be honest. As if I’m some burden, which I think I’m not… But, hey, today I look like a jumping frog! I think that’s kinda awesome.

# data[].attributes.body
I see everything, everywhere - the drawer I live in, the dishwasher I take a shower in and even the table where I'm forced by the humans to work out or as they call it - "eating". I hate working out with them around. Why would I want to blunt my tips and be in their human-like mouth. Let me tell y'all a quick story.
One day as I was working out again, this annoying little human, who the big humans loved to call "sweety" even though there's nothing sweet about him, decided that he should use ME to eat his soup. Of course he couldn't eat the soup so he chewed on ME. I was so annoyed that I decided to kick his tooth but ended up making a hole. The little irritant started to cry - so dramatic. I don't cry when I'm being used as gum. Anyway the human has now filled the hole but he knows not to mess with me anymore.

# data[].attributes.body
I remember the davs when I lived on the wooden door, high enough to see almost everything in the room. From my place, the world looked bio and exciting. Every morning, I watched a girl walking inside. She had brown hair with light highlights and eyes that always looked a little magical. I could never know her age, but she seemed young, full of dreams and energy. She was not verv tall, but she moved with confidence, and I liked watching her draw, laugh, or talk on the phone.

In her room, I saw soft lights, clothes, books, and a mirror that reflected her smile. Sometimes she looked tired, sometimes happy, but she was never boring to watch. I felt like a small quardian, always keeping an eye on her world

One day, something changed. A strong push shook the door, and the glue that held me finally gave up. I fell behind a heavy drawer, into a dark place where 1 could no longer see her room. I wasn't lost - ust hidden, waiting.

Now I hope that one day she will move the drawer, find me again, and put me back on the door. I miss watching her world.

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I sit under the bright white Christmas tree, and my little pink eyes shine with joy. I love the lights above me and the soft ornaments around me. Every time someone walks by, I look up and wonder, “Will they pick me today?” I feel excited, because I know I was made to make someone happy. I can almost imagine the smile on their face when they open me. So I wait here, quietly and proudly, hoping my moment will come soon. I’m ready to be given with love.

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The snowman appeared overnight, standing quietly at the edge of the parking lot. His googly eyes watched everything—cars leaving, children laughing, snowflakes drifting down like secrets. No one had seen who built him, yet he looked almost expectant, as if waiting for something important.

Late in the afternoon, a gust of wind rustled the branches that served as his arms. The snowman wobbled, then straightened, determined. A little girl passing by stopped and whispered, “Are you alive?”

For a moment, his eyes seemed to shift toward her. She smiled, certain she’d seen magic—and he stood guard until dawn.

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Every evening Lena sat at her piano, feeling crushed by school, pressure, and the fear that no one truly heard her. The piano, with its big watching eyes, seemed to understand. One night she began to play, and the room changed. Music lifted her into another universe—quiet, bright, and full of colors that moved with every note she created. Here she wasn’t invisible. Here her music shaped everything around her.

When the melody ended, she returned to her room feeling lighter. The piano seemed to whisper, “Come back whenever the world feels heavy.” And she did—every time she needed saving.

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I swear, I’m the hardest-working plant in this entire house. While other plants lounge around soaking up sunlight like it’s a vacation, I’m on duty 24/7. With these huge eyes, I spot everything—missing keys, spilled juice, suspicious midnight snacks. Do I get thanked? No. Someone even wrapped me in orange paper like I’m a festive burrito. But fine. If being a bushy, wide-eyed security guard keeps this chaotic place running, I’ll do it. Just… maybe water me once in a while? Even heroes get thirsty.

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They put me here without thinking —two small eyes, a bit of glue,and the noise of the city moving around me. Now I stay on the wall between air and stone,quiet and still,watching people walk by.I see shoes, bags, jumping pigeons,and pieces of sky caught in puddles.People believe the city watches them.But it’s really us.We notice the rain first,we feel it when someone steps too close,and we wait for the momentwhen someone finally looks downand notices us watching back.

Stefaniya 12b

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I wasn’t always alive…just a plain blue case meant to hold glasses. Then someone stuck googly eyes on me and I suddenly had purpose. Now I sit on the wooden desk, guarding secrets and spectacles alike. People think I’m just cute decor, but I’m on duty 24/7. When the room goes dark, I stay alert, lids nonexistent, eyes forever wobbling at the slightest tremor. If anyone tries to take what I protect, I’ll stare them down. I may be small, but trust me…nothing escapes my unblinking watch!

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Nia S -12G

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They stuck me to the city with a flick of their fingers- wet glue, sidewalk grit and quiet laugh I felt but never saw. Now I live between footsteps and rainstorms, staring up at knees, shoes, and the occasional fallen crumb of sky reflected in puddles. People think the city watches them. They’re wrong. We watch. We blink when the rain comes, shiver when boots pass too close, and wait for the moment someone finally looks down, startled, and meets our gaze.

Zhaklin - 12b

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The hungry mailbox

I wait all day for letters, love notes, birthday cards, even bills. But lately, people forget I exist. They send everything through their glowing screens instead. So when someone gave me these goofy eyes, I felt alive again. A kid stopped, waved, and even fed me a flyer like it was important mail. I know I’m just a rusty old box, but with these eyes, the street finally notices me again.

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I was left alone, surrounded by the bodies of my silenced brothers. They have surrendered from the loud noises of the city and their songs were long forgotten. It was only I who stood his ground, only I continued singing. But the people kept on passing. I will sing until my body rots, just so I don't miss a person who might use a little bit of song to continue their day. I'm still waiting...

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I'm an outside outlet! For many years I've been watching different people pass by, use me to charge their phones, laptops... And many more. It's very lively here in the centre, but I don't have any friends near, so I'm usually lonely. Please come by and say hi!, I will gladly charge your battery! 😊