Jennifer awoke in the lion enclosure, drowsy and confused.
She’d just rested her eyes for a few seconds in the library, awash in a sea of dull economics textbooks. How and why was she here?
She shrugged her new shoulders, flicked her tail, and padded softly out into the sunlight.
Jeremy is a shambling mess of unkempt hair and caffeine-induced twitches, currently based in Southampton in the UK. He doesn’t have a website of his own, but would like to direct people towards the band he’s involved with at http://www.thebluescreenofdeath.co.uk/ and their music video he starred in.
I clutch the pink note in my sweaty hand.
My heart beats furiously.
The room smells like chalk.
“Welcome, Dads!” is written on a big blue banner.
The cruel children laugh at my shoes while I hand over the note.
It reads, “Dear Ms. Wheatley, Elena’s father died last year.”
This story was submitted by Elena Agnello.
It was like a real-world logic puzzle.
Bobby Blowfish should sit with Angela Angelfish, but he and Tommy Tuna don’t get along.
The Seahorse family should be near the dessert table, but keep them away from the punch bowl!
And no one wanted another “who let the orcas in” fiasco.
This story is based on a title suggested by @klancashire.
He really didn’t want to go in.
He’d heard stories about this place, and they weren’t good. The person in charge was mean and scary.
He knew that once he was in, there was no way back: he would be trapped – at least until his mum collected him at three.
Mike Jackson is a retired primary school head teacher who is enjoying having time and freedom to write. You can read more of his writing here.
Jimmy always brought tater tots to school. Worse, he flaunted them.
That made him a target.
Ryan drew the plans up, Kevin swiped the locker keys, Megan played the decoy, and Aiden prepped the route to the hideout.
But Brandon forgot to bring the ketchup, so they tattled on him.
This story is based on a title suggested by a participant in a 50-word stories live-writing session.
We called the dog El Pancho. I never knew why. Maybe it was the weird brown spot on his back. He had two lame legs and always smelled like rotting cheddar, and sat at the flagpole every day after school, but no one ever came.
One day, neither did he.
John Funk is Games Editor at The Escapist, and has been gaming and writing for most of his life thus far. He has far too many plastic robot models on his desk at work and thinks those dirty Horde can go jump off a bridge.
The first day of school was like a nightmare for Billington Washburn Crabcakes. He tried to make friends, but everyone wanted to know what his name was, and he knew that if he told them he’d be made fun of for always.
So he kept to himself and ate crayons.
It was 9:30 AM in the third grade classroom, and Miss Flannerty was nowhere to be seen.
Billy and Bobby and Suzie wondered if she was sick or sleeping or dead.
Then the class telephone rang.
It was Miss Flannerty. “All-day recess!” she said. “And for homework, learn to spell ‘hangover’!”
Jesse went to school to study Finance.
He did really well in all of the theory classes, but he had some difficulty making real-world applications of his newfound knowledge.
After six years, he graduated.
He calculated that it would only take him twenty-nine years to pay back his student loans.
“So what have we learned today?” said Dan, standing over the aquarium.
“Whatcha doin’?” asked Tara.
“Teaching the fish to speak.”
“Is this some elaborate setup for a pun on how the fish are in ‘school’?”
“No. I’m seriously teaching them.”
“Whatever,” Tara scoffed, leaving.
“Jerk face,” said the fish.