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“Hello, I Am a Crab — I Have Taken Over This Bottle”

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“Hello, I Am a Crab — I Have Taken Over This Bottle”

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Most crabs are content with a quiet life, scuttling over sand, hiding under rocks, and nibbling on whatever the tide brings in. But not me. My name is Mr. Crabby, and I was born different. Even as a hatchling, I looked at the waves and wondered what lay beyond them. While my brothers buried themselves in the sand and my sisters raced sideways for fun, I dreamed of adventures: of storms, treasure, and the wide-open sea.

One day, while exploring a coral reef far from home, I spotted something unusual caught between two rocks. It shimmered in the sunlight like a jewel. Curious, I approached it carefully, claws raised just in case it was a trick. But it wasn’t a trap, it was just a bottle. A real glass bottle with a tiny scroll inside, sealed and decorated with barnacles. I circled it, admired it with my claws. It felt… important. Magical, even.

I spent the next few hours trying to figure it out. What was the scroll for? Who had written it? And more importantly… was this bottle empty enough for a crab like me?

With an uneasy feeling, I pushed and wiggled my way into the narrow neck of the bottle. It was tough, my shell scraped the glass, and I got stuck twice but eventually, I made it. I was inside! I sat there, claws folded, heart pounding. The bottle began to rise, lifted by the tide, spinning gently like a message from the deep.

At first, I was scared. The ocean looked different from up here brighter, bigger, endless. But the fear passed quickly. I realized this was the adventure I had always dreamed of. I wasn’t just a crab anymore. I was Capitan Crabby ruler of the bottle-ship.

Days passed. I floated past jellyfish cities, ancient shipwrecks, and dancing schools of fish. I met a squid named Michael who played me a song on his coral harp. A family of dolphins pushed me away from a dangerous whirlpool. A seagull once tried to steal my bottle, but I clicked my claws so fiercely it dropped me in surprise and squawked away. But at one point… the waves stopped and I ended up on another beach, far from my old home and long-lost family. I began to feel lonely, perhaps even regret for getting distracted by my thirst for adventure.

Suddenly, my little bottle was tossed and turned like a leaf in the wind. I held on tightly inside, whispering to myself, “You’re a crab… and you’re brave.” I thought I wouldn’t survive. There was a weird looking creature, something I never saw before back home. A big giant with blonde hair and big bright eyes.  It screamed ‘’ Mommy, mommy I found a crab! Can i take it home?’’ Inside the bottle, I had written a message on that scroll: “Hello, I am a crab. I have taken over this bottle.” That was the moment I met Claire, the girl who found my abandoned ship and took me in her home, making it mine also.  I have realised that bottle wasn’t my home, my ship, my story. It was way more than that, and me and Claire are still good friends. I still travel the seas, sometimes returning to that same beach to check if Claire is there. I still dream of distant places and whisper secrets to the waves.

So if you ever find a message in a bottle, remember: it might just be from me, Mr Crabby , the crab who dared to dream.

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The message was written by a member of a cult. They are in a cave, where they were told they will be safe. The cult was having a meeting in the forest but suddenly a storm reached them.
They sent this message with a hope that somebody will find it and come save them because the cave was accidentally blocked due to the trash that the storm moved around. I think someone found the message and gathered a lot of people to come get them out.

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One day, you’ll read this and know-I was waiting for you. -Miron Ovidiu

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One day, you’ll read this and know-I was waiting for you. -Miron Ovidiu

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The message was written by a sailor, lost at sea after a shipwreck. Stranded on a small, desolate island, they battled isolation and the harsh realities of survival. Day after day, they hoped for rescue, but as time passed, they began to fear they might never be found. With nothing left but the ocean stretching endlessly before them, they wrote a message: “One day, you’ll read this and know—I was waiting for you.” It wasn’t a plea for help, but a final act of faith that someone might discover the bottle and understand their story. They clung to the belief that even in their solitude, they weren’t entirely alone. The bottle, carried by unpredictable currents, traveled through the vast ocean. Decades later, it washed ashore, and the message was discovered. Though the sailor was long gone, their hope endured, reaching across time to whoever found the bottle, a reminder of the power of waiting and believing.

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I saw the stars move last night, they spelled something...

Last night, as the world lay quiet under its velvet sky, you looked up and saw the stars stirring—at first a flicker, then a deliberate shift. They glided, like dancers on an unseen stage, drawing faint silver lines across the heavens. Slowly, almost shyly, they gathered into a pattern: unfamiliar at first, but soon unmistakable. The stars were spelling something.

The word—or was it a message?—hung there, shimmering with cosmic intent. You blinked, rubbed your eyes, but it stayed. And then, impossibly, a voice like wind through ancient trees whispered in your mind: "We see you."

Suddenly, the ground seemed less solid beneath your feet. Was it a greeting? A warning? Or perhaps an invitation? You couldn’t sleep after that, your mind racing with possibilities. And by morning, the sky had returned to normal—as if nothing had happened at all.

But you knew. Tonight, you'd be watching again, waiting for the stars to finish their sentence.

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This is not a message. This is a test. If you are human, blink twice.

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This is not a message. This is a test. If you are human, blink twice.

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In a small town by the sea, there was a school with a classroom that had a strange screen. Some people said the screen could show things that weren’t on any computer.

One day during a lesson, the screen turned blue. It showed sea animals like seahorses and fish, and a scroll opened in the middle. On the scroll were these words:

“This is not a message. This is a test. If you are human, blink twice.”

The students laughed. They thought it was just a joke.

But then something strange happened. The screen started to glow, and bubbles floated up. One girl, Lina, blinked twice—without even thinking.

The scroll disappeared. In its place, a doorway appeared on the screen. It looked like water, and cold air came out of it. Suddenly, Lina was pulled into the screen.

She woke up deep under the ocean, in a glowing world full of sea creatures and lights. Strange sea people told her the scroll was not a joke. It was a real test. They needed someone brave to help protect their underwater world.

Back in the classroom, the screen turned black. One last message appeared:

“Blink again when you’re ready to come back.”

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Message:To the stranger who found this:I hope you believe in love at first read.

The person that wrote this might be a secret admirer that is shy.They are probably not far away from the person they wrote to,but they keep a safe distance.They started to like the person they send this to,and that is why they send the message.The person that received it probably started looking after the author of the note,and are willing to form a connection.

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The Silver Box

Kira wasn’t supposed to be this far from the safe zones, but she had followed the current, the maps, and the voice in her head that still spoke in Captain Elira Voss’s calm, steady tone. The bottle had arrived like a ghost—washed up on the dock just after sundown, glass fogged and sealed with barnacles. Inside: a water-stained message in Elira’s handwriting.
Under the coral arch lies a silver box. Find it before them.
Kira knew immediately who had written it. Elira was the kind of woman who always left contingencies, even when she was being hunted. Even when her last recorded dive ended in radio silence and a pressure alarm. The world thought she drowned—Kira never believed it. Not when there were still trails, still whispers. Not when the sea seemed to mourn her absence like it knew her name.
The reef where the arch was said to be didn’t exist on any official maps. But Kira had pieced together the coordinates from old mission logs Elira used to read aloud like bedtime stories when she couldn’t sleep on research vessels. This ridge connects here. The trench narrows like this. See? There’s a pattern. There always was, with her.
The arch rose from the ocean floor like a cathedral gate, choked with anemones and dancing fish. Kira hovered there for a moment, awed. Then she saw it—half-buried beneath the base: the silver box. Cold, matte, sealed shut. She reached for it, and the second her fingers brushed the metal, something shifted behind her.
The water trembled.
Engines. Divers. Too many.
They had found her trail. Elira had warned her about them—corporate dogs with military suits and blacked-out names. The ones who came for Elira after she tried to expose what they were dumping in the reefs. She had said once, in a whisper during a storm off the Drake Passage, If anything happens to me, the ocean will keep my secrets. But someone has to know where to look.
This was why she sent the message. Not just to keep the box out of enemy hands, but to pass it on—to someone she trusted. Someone like Kira. Someone who wouldn’t stop just because it was dangerous.
Clutching the box, Kira kicked off the seabed and turned into the current, heading for the old dive tunnel Elira had charted years ago. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t afford to.
She didn’t know what exactly was inside—only that it was important enough for Elira to die protecting it. But as the pressure dropped and the light shifted, Kira made herself a promise: they wouldn't get it. Not this time.
And when she surfaced an hour later, gasping, victorious, the box still in her arms, she knew she had done it. The message had reached the right hands.