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*+:๏ฝก.๏ฝก . โ—‹ ๐Ÿท โ™ก.๐Ÿชž.โ™ก. ๐Ÿท โ—‹ . ใ€€๏ฝก.๏ฝก:+*
โ”Šโ™กใ€€โ”Šใ€€ใ€€โ”Šใ€€* โ”Š โ”Š โ”Š โ˜† โ”Šใ€€ใ€€๐Ÿฐ โ”Š * ใ€€โ”Šใ€€ใ€€๐Ÿผ โ™ก โ”Šใ€€ใ€€๐Ÿ“ * ๐ŸŽ€
โ€˜Seeing Red (The First Day of School)โ€™ by Zenryhao Everyone loves the first day of school, right? New year, new classes, new friends. I like the first day of school for a different reason, though. You see, I have a sort of power. When I look at people, I canโ€ฆsense a sort of aura around them. A colour outline based on how long that person has to live. Most everyone I meet around my age is surrounded by a solid green hue, which means they have plenty of time left. A fair amount of them have a yellow orange tinge to their auras, which tends to mean a disease or fire; some tragedy. Anything that takes people โ€œbefore their timeโ€ as they say. The real fun is when the auras venture into the red end of the spectrum, though. Every now and again Iโ€™ll see someone whoโ€™s basically a stoplight. Those are the ones who get in a car crash, or even a victim of crime. Itโ€™s such a rush to see them and know their time is numbered. With that in mind, I always get to class very early so I can scout out my classmatesโ€™ fates. The first kid who came in was basically radiating red. I tsk tsk tsk. Huh. But as people kept walking in, they all had the same intense red glow. I finally caught a glimpse of my own fading reflection in the window, but I was too stunned to move. Our professor stepped in and locked the door, his aura a sickening shade of green...
MAR 08 When you are admitted to a hospital, they place on your wrist a white wristband with your name on it. But there are other different colored wristbands which symbolize other things. The red wristbands are placed on dead people. There was one surgeon who worked on night shift in a school hospital. He had just finished an operation and was on his way down to the basement. He entered the elevator and there was just one other person there. He casually chatted with the woman while the elevator descended. When the elevator door opened, another woman was about to enter when the doctor slammed the close button and punched the button to the highest floor. Surprised, the woman reprimanded the doctor for being rude and asked why he did not let the other woman in. The doctor said, โ€œThat was the woman I just operated on. She died while I was doing the operation. Didnโ€™t you see the red wristband she was wearing?โ€ The woman smiled, raised her arm, and said, โ€œSomething like this?โ€

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

โœถ ๐Ÿฉธ ๐Ÿน โค๏ธ / โš”๏ธ ๐Ÿฉธ โš”๏ธ / โค๏ธ ๐Ÿน ๐Ÿฉธ โœถ
The Red Wristband A doctor was working at a hospital, a hospital where the patients were tagged with coloured bands. Green: alive. Red: deceased. One night, the doctor was instructed to get a few supplies from the basement of the hospital, and so he headed to the lift. The lift doors opened and there was a patient inside, minding her own business. Patients were allowed to roam around the hospital to stretch, especially those who have stayed long. The rule was to be back in their rooms before ten. The doctor smiled at the patient before pressing the number for the basement. He found it unusual that the woman didnโ€™t have a button already pressed. He wondered if she was heading to the basement too. The lift finally reached the floor where the doors opened. In the distance a man was limping towards the elevator, and in a panic the doctor slammed the elevator button to close. It finally did and the lift began to ascend back up, the doctorโ€™s heart pounding. โ€œWhy did you do that? He was trying to use the lift.โ€ The woman stated, annoyed. โ€œDid you see his wrist?โ€ The doctor asked, โ€œIt was red. He died last night. I would know because I did his surgery.โ€ The woman lifted her wrist. He saw red. She smiled. โ€œLike this one?โ€
๐Ÿท โ‹† ๐Ÿ“ โฃ โ—• โฃ ๐Ÿ“ โ‹† ๐Ÿท
๐Ÿ’˜๐Ÿฅน๐Ÿฅน๐Ÿฅน๐Ÿ’˜
๐Ÿ˜ก,๐Ÿ˜ 
:::: :::: ::::::: ::::::: ::::::::::: ::::::::::: ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: :::: l `:::::' l :::: ::::::::::::ร—::::::::::::::: ๐Ÿฑ๐Ÿฑโ˜บ๐ŸŒบ๐Ÿญ๐Ÿ˜š
๐Ÿ”ด - ๐Ÿ”ช - ๐Ÿ”ด ๐Ÿ”ช - ๐Ÿ˜ˆ - ๐Ÿ”ช ๐Ÿ”ด - ๐Ÿ”ช - ๐Ÿ”ด
โ™กใ€ ๐ซ๐ž๐/๐ฅ๐จ๐ฏ๐ž๐œ๐จ๐ซ๐ž ๐ž๐ฆ๐จ๐ฃ๐ข๐ฌ ใ€‘โ™ก ๐Ÿ’‹๐ŸŒน๐Ÿ“๐ŸŽธ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ’Œ๐Ÿฅ€ ๐ฌ๐ž๐š๐ซ๐œ๐ก "๐ฒ๐š๐ง๐๐ž๐ซ๐ž๐ž๐ฆ๐จ๐ฃ๐ข๐ฌ" ๐Ÿ๐จ๐ซ ๐จ๐ญ๐ก๐ž๐ซ ๐š๐ž๐ฌ๐ญ๐ก๐ž๐ญ๐ข๐œ ๐ž๐ฆ๐จ๐ฃ๐ข๐ฌ
red emoji pack<3 ๐Ÿ‘ ๐Ÿฅฉโ‚Š โŠนหŽหŠโ‹†หŠห—๐ŸŒนโ‹† หš๐Ÿ’‹๐Ÿ’โ˜…๐ŸŽธโ‹† โ‹† หš๐Ÿ“๏ฝกโ‹†๐ŸŽˆโœง๐ŸŽ€ เผ˜โŒโ‚Š โŠน๐Ÿ„ ๐ŸŽ€ห–โบ๐ŸŽธโ‹†๏ฝก๐Ÿšฉ เณ€โ‹†๐Ÿซ€๐Ÿ‘ โ‹†๏ฝกยฐ๐Ÿช“ ๐Ÿ–๏ธ๐Ÿ“โ‹†หš๐Ÿ’๏ฝก โŒห–โบโ‚Šโ€งห– ๐ŸŒนยฐโ‹†๐ŸŽธ๏ฝก ๐Ÿ“โญ’หš๏ฝก๐Ÿ’‹๐ŸŽธโ‹†๏ฝก ยฐโ‹†๐Ÿ“ เณ€๐ŸŽฏ หšห–หš.๐ŸŽ€เผ˜โ‹† ๐Ÿ“ หš๐ŸŽˆ๐Ÿ‘ โ‹†หš๏ฝก๐Ÿ“หšโ€ง
r/shortscarystories 9 yr. ago sp00kyscary They're just so darn cute I love being a 2nd grade teacher. The kids in my class are so cute and innocent. They're at the perfect age. I used to teach sixth grade, but I quickly realised how that it was a mistake, whence cliques form, the bullying flourishes, and kids learnt how to be terrible to each other. By then, they're corrupted by bad role models, no respect for authority and no desire to learn. No; 2nd grade children are far better! The parents are still making an attempt to shield them from the harshness of the world. They look at me with wide eyes, eager to learn, taking in all I share with them. My favourite day, is Valentine's Day. They make little paper packets they place on their desks to be filled with cards and/or candy. This year, I baked some delicious cookies at home and I arrived early to deliver one to each student. Iโ€™m so excited to see the reactions. I smile all morning. I smile as the kids arrive, dressed in red and pink. I smile as they happily tear into their construction paper holders to see what's inside. I smile as they give me an adorable thank-you once they see the cookies I've made them. I smile as they bite into them. And I smile as they one by one fall to the ground, shaking and turning blue. After all, they're at such a cute age. It would be a shame to let them grow up.
โ†ฑ ๐๐จ๐ง๐ฃ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซ, ๐š’๐š๐šœ ๐š—๐šŠ๐š–๐šŽ โค๏ธ ๐š™๐š›๐š˜๐š—๐š˜๐šž๐š—๐šœ . ๐šŠ๐š๐šŽ ๐š๐š’๐š–๐šŽ๐šฃ๐š˜๐š—๐šŽ . ๐š™๐š›๐š—๐šœ ๐Ÿ“โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€ขเญจเญงโ€ขโ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€”โ€” ๐š€ ๐šž ๐š˜ ๐š ๐šŽ โ†ณ ๐ŸŽธ bio credits // m14!!
โค๏ธ๐Ÿ“Œ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ’„๐Ÿ’‹๐ŸŒถ๏ธ๐ŸŒน๐Ÿž๐ŸŽ๐ŸŽ€
๐Ÿ’‰ โค๏ธโ€๐Ÿฉน ๐Ÿ’‰ โค๏ธโ€๐Ÿฉน ๐Ÿ’‰ โค๏ธโ€๐Ÿฉน ๐Ÿ’‰ โค๏ธโ€๐Ÿฉน ๐Ÿ’‰
๐Ÿ–ค - โค๏ธ
แƒฆโคโ€ข*โคโค*โ€ขโคแƒฆ
๐ŸคŽ ๐Ÿ’– ๐ŸคŽ ๐Ÿ’– ๐ŸคŽ ๐Ÿ’– ๐ŸคŽ ๐Ÿ’–
โ™ฅ๏ธ๐Ÿ“Œ โ™ฅ๏ธ๐Ÿ“Œ
โค๏ธ๐Ÿ–คโค๏ธ
๐Ÿ’‰โค๏ธโ™ฅ๏ธโ™ฅ๏ธโค๏ธ๐Ÿ’‰
๐Ÿž ๐Ÿฆ ๐Ÿฆž ๐Ÿฆ€ ๐ŸŒน ๐ŸŽ ๐Ÿ… ๐ŸŒถ๏ธ ๐Ÿงฏ ๐Ÿฉธ ๐Ÿงง ๐ŸŽ€ โค๏ธ
๐Ÿซ๐Ÿง ๐ŸŽ€๐Ÿ’•๐Ÿซ€
โค๏ธโ™ž โค๏ธ|โ™ž|โค๏ธ โ™ž|โค๏ธ|โ™ž โ™žโค๏ธ
๐Ÿ˜โค๏ธ๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ’˜๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’—๐Ÿ’“๐Ÿ’ž๐Ÿ’•โค๏ธโ€๐Ÿฉน๐Ÿฉน๐Ÿ“•๐ŸŽฒ๐ŸŽ๐Ÿ“๐Ÿ’๐Ÿ„๐Ÿ’ข๐Ÿ’‹๐ŸŽ€๐Ÿ’ฎ๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ”บ๐Ÿฅข๐ŸŒถ๐Ÿ–๏ธ๐Ÿ’Œ๐Ÿ’•๐Ÿฎ
โค๏ธ ๐Ÿงฃ โค๏ธ ๐Ÿงฃ ๐Ÿ–Š ๐Ÿงฃ โค๏ธ ๐Ÿงฃ โค๏ธ
( ๏ฝก โ€ขฬ€ แด– โ€ขฬ ๏ฝก)
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