Ghosts Emoji Combos

Copy & Paste Ghosts Emojis & Symbols ✩🕸 ˖🦇🕯☠ ˖✩🕸 | 👻👻 | 👻✨🔪💀

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🕯⏳🕰⚰️🪦🥀⚱🏚️
pls note the ai inflicts emotional damage (ᵕ—ᴗ—)
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🐦‍⬛🕷️🕸️🪨💀🐜🦟🌑🕳️🎥🪦🗡️🗞️📰🖋️✖️♠️🏴‍☠️
⊹ 𝑔ℎ𝘰𝑠𝘵𝑠? 。 。 。 °࿐ 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒. 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝘰𝑤 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑏𝘰𝑢𝘵 𝑔ℎ𝘰𝑠𝘵𝑠. ☆・。 ♡ 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗊𝗎𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝟦𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗂𝗈 ౨ৎ 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘲𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦? 𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘫𝘪𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘰𝘴.𝘤𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘨, "requestcutequotes4u"
short horror story: i was at my grandma's house, and looked around at her vintage stuff. i wondered about the secrets beneath the house. What could be hiding..? later that night, everyone was sleeping but me. i decided to go and check out the attic to see some old treasures and secrets. when i arrived, i started by looking at the old documents. but there was one document that caught my eye. A miscarriage document from 1982, saying that my grandma originally was supposed to have twins. One was named Amber (my mother,) and the other twin, Angelica, who died for an unknown reason. I got chills down my back that I would see her ghost probably. After looking through the documents, i found some photos of mom as a baby. But I could see a faint, ghost-like baby behind her. like the one standing behind me right now...?!

Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠋⠉⠉⣛⢿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠈⠉⠙⠛⠿⠟⠛⠋⢉⠉⠉⢻⣿⣿ ⣿⠿⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⢉⠉⠙⢻⣿⣿⡿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠈⠷⠀⠦⠈⠈⣿⡿⠀⠈⠀⠀⢀⣿⠿⠷⠶⠶⠿⠿⣶⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠃⠀⠂⢻⣿ ⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠐⢠⣿⣿⣶⣶⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⡁⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣤⣶⣿⣿⡿⣏⠉⠉⠉⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣥⣤⣶⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠹⣶⣦⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⢿⡏⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢰⡄⢯⠿⣿⣿⡿⠋⢂⣿⡀⠀⠀⣧⠹⣷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠠⠆⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠈⢉⠀⣿⡿⠁⠀⠘⠿⠇⠀⠀⠻⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣶⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠿⠛⠛⠻⢿⣿ ⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢇⣿⣿⣿⠿⠉⠀⢿⠆⠀⠖⢿⣿⠃⠀⣠⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣴⡶⠋⠁⠀⡾⢀⣀⢈⢻ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣴⣶⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣾⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⢠⣾⠟⠉⠁⢰⣦⢠⡄⠀⡎⢿⣿⣿⣉⣁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⣸ ⣿⣿⣿⡿⢋⠉⠙⢻⣿⠛⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡴⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣠⣴⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠘⠁⠀⠁⠀⠀⢸⣿⠿⠛⡉⠙⡺⣷⣶⣦⣤⣶⣾⣿ ⣿⡿⠋⠀⠉⠐⠈⠁⣿⣷⣶⣶⣿⡿⠿⠗⠒⠒⠲⠶⣶⣶⣯⣽⣤⣀⣀⣀⡀⣀⣀⡴⢾⠛⣉⠛⢿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠁⠀⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣄⡀⠀⣀⣀⣤⣾⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣄⣀⡠⣬⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠋⠉⠀⠘⠈⠉⠀⠈⣿⠁⠀⣀⣤⣶⣶⠶⠶⠶⣶⣶⣾⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠻⠙⠛⠁⠻⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⣼⠏⢀⣾⠿⠋⠁⠀⣦⠀⠀⠀⢻⡙⢿⣆⣀⣀⣠⣼⠟⠉⣁⠀⣀⡉⠉⠻⣿ ⣿⠿⠟⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣶⣶⣷⣶⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣵⣿⣀⣸⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⢿⡄⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠘⢿⡇⠈⠁⠀⠀⠘ ⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣿⠿⢋⣅⠀⣤⢉⡻⣷⣶⣤⣤⠶⠶⢿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠿⠀⠀⠀⠈⠃⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀ ⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢻⣯⣭⠻⣷⠶⣶⣶⡶⠿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠈⣿⡆⠈⠈⠻⠹⣿⠋⠲⠐⠃⠀⢻⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠟⠁⠈⠹⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸ ⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠘⠫⠳⣸⢹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿ ⡍⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢿⣾⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⠟⢀⣀⢀⣤⣴⡿⢋⡀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣶⡶⠶⠶⠶⠿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡟⠀⢀⣀⡴⣼⣌⡽ ⣿⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣶⣶⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⣠⣴⡞⠉⣀⣠⣾⢟⠳⣷⣾⣿
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Horror Short Story: The Accident In this horror short story, a man tries to cope with what he has done. Written by: Reddit user Minnboy Halverson sat in his dark living room. He hadn’t moved for over an hour. The accident earlier that evening kept playing over and over in his mind. The light turned red, but he was in a hurry and accelerated. An orange blur came from his right and in a split second there was a violent jolt, then the bicyclist rolled across his hood and fell out of sight on the pavement. Horns blared angrily and he panicked, stepping on the gas and screeching away from the chaos into the darkness, shaken and keeping an eye on his rearview mirror until he got home. Why did you run? He’d never committed a crime before this and punished himself by imagining years in jail, his career gone, his family gone, his future gone. Why not just go to the police right now? Then someone tapped on the front door and his world suddenly crumbled away beneath him. They found me. There was nothing he could do but answer it. Running would only make matters worse. Trembling, he got up, went to the door and opened it. A police officer stood under the porch light. “Mr. Halverson?” asked the grim officer. He let out a defeated sigh. “Yes. Let me —”I am terribly sorry, but I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your son’s bike was struck by a hit and run driver this evening. He died at the scene. I’m very sorry for your loss..."

Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

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Tuesday, March 31st, 2015 | I only go shopping at night The cashier swipes my items across the scanner as I stare at the floor. I find it easiest to get through my anxiety by avoiding eye contact with other people. That’s why I only go shopping at night fewer people to avoid. “Did you find everything okay?” she asks casually. “Mm-hmm,” I mumble to the floor. Her voice sounds nice. Pleasant. Curiosity wins over and I glance up. The cashier’s head is completely caved in on the left side. Probably a car accident. I snap my gaze back down towards the floor. After I pay she gives back my change in a hand so mangled I’m surprised it can hold anything at all. Thanking her, I grab my bags and turn towards the exit. Immediately I see a man looking through magazines at the store front. The skin on his face and hands is the consistency of a hot dog that fell into a campfire. Burn victim. I rush out the door as fast as I can. In my car I finally catch my breath as I lean my forehead on the steering wheel. Eventually I look up and see my familiar reflection in the rear-view mirror: my head is blown open in the back. Gunshot victim. Why did I ever wish for the power to see how people die? Credit to reddit user resistance1984

Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

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