Family & Friends Emojis & Text

r/shortscarystories 1 yr. ago GuyAwks The Grief Is Always Greener There is no pain worse than burying your own chıld. When my son was first dıagnosed with leukemia, I fell apart. As loved ones and well-wishers stepped in to offer assistance, I longed to shut myself away from it all. Even though I knew they meant well, I couldn’t stand the attention. All I wanted was my old life back with Billy healthy. By the time the cáncer took my Àngel from me, I was a different person. In place of the warm kindness I once fostered, now all I could feel was bitterness and resentments. Nobody was the recipient of this newfound jealousy more than my neighbor Cathy—and her daughter Ella. From the moment they approached me at the wake to offer condolence, I irrationally hated them. Why did it have to be me going through this agonizing loss, and not Cathy? Why was it my kid deprived of growing up, and not Ella? Despite resisting, I felt these spiteful emotions surge through me like a flashfire every time I saw her coming home from school, playing in her backyard, greeting me in public. Before I knew it, I began to fantasize about Cathy’s child, too. I pictured her shriveling up and wasting away like Billy had. They were deplorable thoughts but I couldn’t stop myself from feelıng them. Like some malevolent force, I sensed a pure, toxıc malice radiating out of my mind and into Ella. It was as if my grief had manifested into a living evıl. That’s when the unthinkable started occurring. Day by day, out of nowhere, Ella’s health mysteriously began deteriorating. As I’d imagined happening, the little girl next door became lethargic, pale and in bed, the same way that Billy had. Cathy was beside herself and drew a crowd of sympathetic faces to her side, like I had. My mind couldn’t have really caused this, right? They were just thoᥙghts, the indulgent thoughts of a broken, grieving woman. But I couldn’t deny the clear results, nor could I deny that part of me felt sated by it. My cosmic venom kept being transmitted to that poor girl. Until finally, like Billy, she passed away. Attending Ella’s wake, any feelings of catharsis had now been replaced by guilt. There was no fairness I could see, no justice. Just two stolen lives. Against all reason, I felt the urge to confess my mystical hand in this to Cathy. But, as I went to spill my heart out, she confessed to me first. “Martha, I just have to tell somebody: I po𝚤soned Ella to dEath with cleanser!” I was speechless. “I know it’s awful” she cries to me, batting her mascara-tinged lashes. “But I was so jeαlous seeing all the attention you got when Billy died.” “There’s no paın worse than watching your frıend bury theır own chıld.”

"Honey, did you take out the trash?" Karen called out to the living room. The only reply was the distant sound of the TV playing a sitcom laugh track. She sighed. Going into the living room, Karen found her husband, Plankton, sprawled out on the couch, snoring lightly. The TV's blue light flickered over his face. She looked around the room, the piles of laundry, the dusty bookshelves, and the half-eaten sandwich on the coffee table. It was a mess, but she knew better than to wake him. Plankton had been working long hours at the chum factory lately, trying to make ends meet. His snoring grew louder, and she felt a wave of affection mixed with concern. Gently, she covered his legs with a blanket and bent to kiss his forehead. He stirred slightly but didn't wake up. In the kitchen, Karen grabbed a cup of coffee, the warmth and aroma grounding her for the evening ahead. The fridge hummed a low lullaby, reminding her of the chores left to do. The sink was full of dirty dishes, remnants of dinner. A pot with half-eaten chum congealed on the stovetop. Karen rolled up her sleeves, determined to tackle the chaos. She knew Plankton was exhausted from work. The clanking of pots and pans echoed through the tiny kitchen as she washed and sorted, her mind racing with thoughts of their future. A knock at the door startled her. She dried her hands on a towel, leaving wet spots like tears on the fabric. It was Hanna, her best friend since high school. Karen had not seen Hanna in weeks, and the sight of her brought a smile. Hanna was a burst of energy. "Hi, Karen! How's it going?" Hanna's voice was a mix of sweetness and the sharpness of someone who had seen too much of the world. She scanned the room, taking in the clutter, the stale smell of overworked air, and Plankton's snoring. "Hey, Hanna," Karen managed, her voice soft to not disturb his sleep. "It's been a bit hectic, but we're making do." Hanna stepped in, eyeing the mess sympathetically. "Looks like you could use a hand," she said, already grabbing a dish towel. Karen's smile grew. "You read my mind. Thanks." Hanna tossed the towel over her shoulder, ready to jump into the fray. "You know me," she said with a wink. "I've never been one to shy away from a mess." The two of them worked side by side, the rhythm of their movements harmonizing as they cleared the kitchen. Karen felt the tension in her shoulders begin to ease as Hanna filled the room with stories of her latest adventures, a welcome distraction from the monotony of chores. As the last plate was put away, the fridge closed with a satisfying click, Karen leaned against the counter. Hanna looked at her. "You've been carrying a lot, haven't you?" she asked, her voice gentle. Karen nodded, her eyes welling up. "It's just that with Plankton's job, and the bills..." Hanna pulled her into a tight hug. "I know, sweetie. You're doing the best you can." They sat down in the living room, the clean kitchen a testament to their friendship's strength. Hanna's screen searched Karen's for a sign of the spark that used to be there. "I can't remember the last time we went out together," Hanna said. "You two deserve a break." Karen's screen lit up at the suggestion, but quickly dimmed. "We can't afford it," she said, sighing. "Not with the overtime Plankton's been doing." Hanna leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Well, I might have a little surprise for you," she said. Karen looked up, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?" Hanna pulled out a small envelope from her pocket and handed it to her friend. "A gift," she said with a sly smile. "A check from my winning lottery ticket." Karen's eyes widened as she opened the envelope. "Hanna, no!" she protested. "You can't just give us your winnings!" Hanna's smile didn't waver. "I can, and I want to. You've been there for me through everything. It's about time I returned the favor. Besides," she said with a wink, "what's a little chum between friends?" Karen's hands trembled as she read the check. It was more than enough to cover their rent and bills for several months. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she hugged Hanna tightly. "Thank you," she whispered. The weight of financial stress lifted slightly from her shoulders, replaced by a warmth that spread through her chest. For a moment, the world didn't seem so overwhelming. Hanna pulled back, her own eyes shining with unshed tears. "Now, don't spend it all in one place," she teased. Karen laughed, the sound small but genuine. "I won't," she promised, the check clutched in her hand. "We'll use it wisely." The two of them sat quietly for a while, enjoying the rare moment of peace. The TV had switched to the news, and the low murmur of the anchor's voice filled the room. Plankton's snoring had become a comforting white noise. Hanna looked at Plankton, her expression thoughtful. "You know, I've always admired the way you take care of him," she said. "It can't be easy." Karen nodded, her thumb tracing the edges of the check. "It's not," she admitted. "But he's my Plankton. I love him, even when he's exhausting." Her gaze drifted to the sleeping form of her husband. Plankton's snores grew more even, his face finally relaxed. The lines of stress that usually pinched his features had smoothed out in sleep. Karen knew that Plankton had always dreamed of more than his life at the chum factory could offer. He was a man of ambition, his spirit too large for the cramped quarters they called home. Her thoughts turned to the gift from Hanna. The check represented more than just money; it was a beacon of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could finally start working towards those dreams.

ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ ᵀʳᵃᵛᵉˡˢ — 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜; 𝟷,𝟷𝟽𝟶 ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ "ᴵ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵃᵍʳᵉᵉᵈ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ʰᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵍᵃᵈᵍᵉᵗˢ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʳᵒᵃᵈ ᵗʳⁱᵖ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵁⁿᶜˡᵉ ᔆʰᵉʳᵐ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᵐʸ ᵐᵘᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵃᵈ ᵃʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵈʳⁱᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉ'ˡˡ ᵐᵉᵉᵗ ᵐʸ ᵍʳᵃᵐᵐᵃ‧‧‧" "ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵏⁱᵈ⸴ ⁱᶠ ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵗᵒⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵒʳᵏ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵒⁿˢⁱᵈᵉʳˢ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃˢ ʷᵉˡˡ ᵇᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵈᵈˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃˡˡ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏⁿᵉʷ‧ "ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵒˡᵏˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵖⁱᶜᵏ ᵘˢ ᵘᵖ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ; ᴹʳ‧ ᴴᵃʳᵒˡᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴹˢ‧ ᴹᵃʳᵍʳᵉᵗ?" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃˢᵏˢ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁱᵛᵉᵈ ⁿᵒ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ 'ᴴᵒʷ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵃ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ˢᵒ ᶠᵃˢᵗ? ᴬᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗ ⁿᵒʷ!' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏˢ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧ 'ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ᵒᵘᵗ!' ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏˢ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ ᵐᵉᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘⁿ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᵂᵃᵏᵉʸ⁻ʷᵃᵏᵉʸ⸴ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖʸ⁻ᵈᵒᵒ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵉˣᶜˡᵃⁱᵐˢ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʳᵒᵘˢⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ˢⁿᵃᵖˢ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʲᵉʳᵏˢ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ‧ "ᵂᵃ⁻ᵃ⁻ᵃᵍʰ‽" "ᵀⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘⁿ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵘᵖ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵃʳˡʸ ˢᶜᵃʳᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵐʸ ᵖᵃʳᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʷᵃʸ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘˢ‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵖᵃʳᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ᵒᶠᶠ! "ᵀʰᵉ ʳⁱᵈᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ˢᵒ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧" "ʸᵉˢ ˢᵒ ᵁⁿᶜˡᵉ ᔆʰᵉʳᵐ ᵇᵘⁱˡᵈˢ ᵐᵃᶜʰⁱⁿᵉʳʸ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃʳᵐ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒᵈˢ‧ "ᴺᵒᵗ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵗʳᵃᶠᶠⁱᶜ‧‧" "ᴵ ᵇʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵏᵉˡᵖ ᶠʳⁱᵉˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵒʸˢ!" "ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏˢ ᴹˢ‧ ᴹᵃʳᵍʳᵉᵗ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ⸴ ˢʰᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ˢᵉᵃᵗ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ˢⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᴹᵘᵐ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵉˢᶜʳⁱᵇⁱⁿᵍ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗˢ ʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ᵖᵃˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵇʸ‧ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘⁿ'ˢ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵇˡᵉ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵈʳᵒʷˢʸ ʸᵉᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᶠˡᵘᵗᵗᵉʳˢ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʳⁱᵈᵉ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖʸ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ‧ ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵇᵒʳᵉᵈ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ‧ "ᵂᵉˡˡ ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵃᵈ ˢᵒⁿᵍ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵘʳⁿˢ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʳᵃⁱˡˢ ᵒᶠᶠ⸴ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᶜᵒˡᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵃ ⁿᵃᵖ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡⁱⁿᵍ; ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵃʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷⁱᵖᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ ᵒᶠᶠ⸴ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ⁱᵗ'ᵈ ʳᵉᵃᶜʰ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷʰᵒ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢˡᵉᵖᵗ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵘᵈᵍᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵃˡˡ⸴ ᵉˣᶜᵉᵖᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ˡᵉᵃⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵗᵒ‧ "ᵂᵉ'ʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃˢ ˢᵗᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗʳᵉᵗᶜʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡᵉᵍˢ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵈᵃᵈ ⁿᵒʷ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵘᵇˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗʳᵃⁱᵍʰᵗᵉⁿ‧ "ᵁⁿʰ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵃ ˢᵒᵈᵃ ᵖᵒᵖ ᵈʳⁱⁿᵏ; ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵍᵃˢ ˢᵗᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸˢ⸴ ⁱᵍⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵉᵛⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗ ᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ 'ᴴᵒʷ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵈⁱᵈ ᵈʳⁱᵛᵉ? ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᵈⁱᵈ ᴵ ᶠᵃˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ?' ᵀʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵃ ᵏᵉˡᵖ ˢʰᵃᵏᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵃᵈ‧ "ᵂᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ʰᵃˡᶠ ʷᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ᵁⁿᶜˡᵉ ᔆʰᵉʳᵐ‧‧‧" "ᶜᵃⁿ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵃᵈ ˢᵒⁿᵍ?" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵃʸᵉᵈ ˢⁱˡᵉⁿᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃʳᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ᵃⁿʸ ⁿᵃᵖˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵍᵃˢ‧ "ᴮᵒᵇᵇʸ!" ᵁⁿᶜˡᵉ ᔆʰᵉʳᵐ ʰᵘᵍˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ "ᴼʰ ᵁⁿᶜˡᵉ ᔆʰᵉʳᵐ!" ᵀʰᵉⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ⁱⁿ‧ "ᴹʸ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ⁱⁿᵛᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ!" "ᵂᵉ'ᵛᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ'ˡˡ ˢʰᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉᵈ ʳᵒᵒᵐˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖᵃʳᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵃʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵃⁿ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵃʳᵉ!" "ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᵍʳᵃᵐᵐᵃ?" "ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵗᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ˡᵃᵗᵉ‧‧‧" ᵁⁿᶜˡᵉ ᔆʰᵉʳᵐ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿˢ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ "ᔆᵒ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒ⁻ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ?" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵉᵐᵇʳᵃᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵖⁱˡˡᵒʷ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶜᵘʳˡᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ⁿᵒʷ ᵇʸ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇˡᵃⁿᵏᵉᵗ ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳˢ‧ ᴵⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵈᵈˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ ᶠˡⁱᶜᵏᵉʳ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵈᵐᵃ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗˡʸ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍʳᵉᵉᵗ ʰᵉʳ‧ "ᴳʳᵃᵐᵐᵃ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳˢ‧ "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵘᵖ ˡᵃᵗᵉ‧" ᵀʰᵉʸ ʰᵘᵍ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ᵛᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗ‧" ᵁⁿᶜˡᵉ ᔆʰᵉʳᵐ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵃˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡᵉᵃᵈˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵈᵐᵃ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ʰᵉ ˢʰᵃʳᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵐʸ ᵒʷⁿ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵗᵒ!" ᴳʳᵃᵐᵐᵃ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉˢ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉʳ ᵒʷⁿ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴴᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˢʰᵃʳᵉᵈ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉ ᴹˢ‧ ᴹᵃʳᵍʳᵉᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᴴᵃʳᵒˡᵈ ˢᵉᵃᵗᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴳʳᵃᵐᵐᵃ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵁⁿᶜˡᵉ ᔆʰᵉʳᵐ ᵗᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ; ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃⁿᵗᵉⁿⁿᵃᵉ? ᴵ'ᵐ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵛᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵍⁱᶻᵐᵒ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ ᵁⁿᶜˡᵉ ᔆʰᵉʳᵐ ˢᵃʸ‧ "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ; ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃᵗᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ʰⁱˢ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ⸴ ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ‧" "ᴴᵃʳᵒˡᵈ ᵈᵉᵃʳ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ˢᵒᶜⁱᵃˡ ᵇᵘᵗᵗᵉʳᶠˡʸ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵈⁱᵈ ʷᵃʳⁿ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ʰⁱˢ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ ᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵃⁿⁿᵒʸᵉᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ⁱᵗ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵒᶠᶠᵉⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧" "ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵖᵃᵗʳᵒⁿⁱˢᵉ; ᵍᵒᵗ ⁱᵗ‧" 'ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃʳᵉˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵉ?' "ᴵ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍʳᵉᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ˡᵃˢᵗ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧" 'ᵂʰᵃᵗ‽ ᴺᵒ‧‧‧' "ʸᵒᵘ ᵈⁱᵈ?" "ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉⁿ'ᵗ ᵒᶠᶠⁱᶜⁱᵃˡˡʸ ᵐᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵐᵃˡˡ ᵍᵘʸ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵏ?" "ᴼⁿˡʸ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᴵ ᵗᵘᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ‧" ᴳʳᵃᵐᵐᵃ ᵗᵒˡᵈ⸴ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵁⁿᶜˡᵉ ᔆʰᵉʳᵐ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒʷ ᵇᵃᶜᵏᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃˡˡ⸴ ᵃˡᵉʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵖʳᵉˢᵉⁿᶜᵉ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ ʳᵘⁿ ᵒᶠᶠ‧ "ᵂᵃˢ ⁱᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᴵ ˢᵃⁱᵈ?" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʰⁱᵈⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃʳⁿ‧ "ᴺᵒʷ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰʸ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵃʳⁿᵉᵈ‧ ᴵ ᵇᵉᵗ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐʸ ᵇᵃʳⁿ‧" ᵁⁿᶜˡᵉ ᔆʰᵉʳᵐ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵍʳᵃᵐᵐᵃ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ʰᵒᵖᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵃˣ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵍᵒ ⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ˢⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵘᵖ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ "ᴵ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵈᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃʳⁿ‧" ᴳʳᵃᵐᵐᵃ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ "ᴴᵒʷ'ᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵉᵗ‧‧‧" "ᶜᵒᵒᵏⁱᵉˢ⸴ ᔆʰᵉʳᵐ‧ ᴹᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵒᵒᵏⁱᵉˢ!" "ᴵ ᵇᵘⁱˡᵗ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵒᵏⁱᵉ ᶜᵘᵗᵗᵉʳ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ ⁱᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵃᵘᵗⁱᵒᵘˢˡʸ ˢᵗᵒᵒᵈ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᶜᵃⁿ ˢʰᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ!" ᴴᵉ ʷᵉᵃʳⁱˡʸ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷˢ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ "ᴵ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵐʸ ᶜᵒᵒᵏⁱᵉˢ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˢᶜʳᵃᵗᶜʰ!" "ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ⁿᵒʷ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ‧ "ᴳᵒᵒᵈ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ!" ᴳʳᵃᵐᵐᵃ ʰᵘᵍˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ "ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ‧‧" ᔆʰᵉ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳˢ⸴ ˡᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵘʳᵉ ⁱᶠ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ʰⁱˢ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ ᵒʳ⸴ ʷᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴰᵒᵉˢ ʰᵉ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵃˡᵏ?" "ᴴᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ʳᵉˢᵉʳᵛᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ʸᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ! ᵂʰʸ?" "ᵁⁿᶜˡᵉ ᔆʰᵉʳᵐ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᴵ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧" ᔆʰᵉ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ‧ "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵒᵃᶜʰ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ˡˡ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵁⁿᶜˡᵉ ᔆʰᵉʳᵐ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᶜᵒᵒᵏⁱᵉ ᶜᵘᵗᵗᵉʳ‧ "ᴰⁱᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᴵ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵈᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃʳⁿ? ᴳʳᵃᵐᵐᵃ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˡᵘʳᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᶜᵒᵒᵏⁱᵉˢ! ᔆʰᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ˡᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ˡⁱᶜᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵖᵒᵒⁿ‧‧" "ᴵ ᶜᵉʳᵗᵃⁱⁿˡʸ ᵈⁱᵈ!" ᔆʰᵉ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳᵉᵈ‧ "ᵂᵉ'ᵛᵉ ˢᵘᵍᵃʳ ᵖᵃᶜᵏᵉᵗˢ! ᴳʳᵃᵐᵐᵃ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵃ ˢᵖᵒᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ˢᵘᵍᵃʳ ʰᵉˡᵖˢ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ ᵍᵒ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ʸᵉᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ "ᴮᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵗᵒ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰ ᵃᵗ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ⸴ ᶠᵃᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᵁⁿᶜˡᵉ ᔆʰᵉʳᵐ‧ "ᴿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵁⁿᶜˡᵉ ᔆʰᵉʳᵐ?" "ᴵ ᵐᵃʸ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᵘʳ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵇˡᵃᵐᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵈᵐᵃ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᶠᵒʳ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰⁱⁿᵍ‧" "ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒʳᵍⁱᵛᵉ ᵘˢ?" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵘᵖ‧ ᴴᵉ ⁿᵒᵈˢ‧ "ᵀʰᵃ⁻ ᵘʰᵐ– ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏˢ‧" "ᴺᵒʷ ˡᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᶜᵒᵒᵏⁱᵉˢ!"

ᵀᵒ ᴴⁱᵗ ᵀʰᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ "ᴰᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵘⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ ʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʷⁱᵗᶜʰ ˢᵒ ʷᵉ ⁱⁿᵈᵘᶜᵉᵈ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵃᵗᵒˢᵉ/ᵘⁿʳᵉˢᵖᵒⁿˢⁱᵛᵉ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵉ‧" ᴰᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʰⁱᵗˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᵇᵒᵃʳᵈ ˢᵒ⸴ ʰⁱˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉˡᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᵐᵖ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ʰᵉʳˢ‧ "ᴼⁿˡʸ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉᵃˡ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉ ᵐᵒⁿⁱᵗᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁿᵒᵈˢ‧ "ᴴⁱˢ ᵇᵒᵈʸ'ˢ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉˢᵗ ˢᵒ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᶜⁱⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ⸴ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ⸴ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᵖᵃˢᵗ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵒᵘʳˢ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵐᵃʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘ— ʷᵉˡˡ ⁿᵒ ᵒᶠᶠᵉⁿᶜᵉ‧‧" "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏˢ‧" ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵉᵈᵃᵗᵉᵈ/ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʷⁱˢʰᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵗ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᵇʸ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢⁱᵈᵉ‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ ᵇʳᵃᵍᵍᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵉᵐᵖˡᵒʸᵉᵉˢ ˢᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ᵒᶠᶠ ʷᵒʳᵏ⸴ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ⁿᵒʷ ᶜᵒᵐᵃᵗᵒˢᵉ/ᵘⁿʳᵉˢᵖᵒⁿˢⁱᵛᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ "ᴴⁱ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ! ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵇʳⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ‧‧" ᔆᵃʸˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ˢᵃᵈ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᴵ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ᵒᶠᶠ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵖᵃᵗˢ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ‧ "ᔆᵒ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ⸴ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵍˡᵃᵈˡʸ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵈ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᶠᵘⁿ‧ ᴿᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵘⁿ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ʷᵉ'ᵈ ˢⁱⁿᵍ?" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢⁱⁿᵍˢ ⁱᵗ ⁿᵒʷ‧ "ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵗᵗᵉᵐᵖᵗ ˢᵗᵉᵃˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘʳ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗ ˡⁱˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ; ʸᵒᵘʳ ⁱⁿᵛᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᶜˡᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵃˢ ʷᵉˡˡ ᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉ ˢᶜʰᵉᵐᵉˢ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵉᵉˢ ᵃ ˢᶜⁱᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵐᵃᵍᵃᶻⁱⁿᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵃᵈˢ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᵂᵉˡˡ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᶠᵉᵉᵈ ᴳᵃʳʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ‧ ᴹⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ!" ᴴᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃˡᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉᵈᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉ/ᵃⁿᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉˢⁱᵃ ˢᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵃⁿ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ⸴ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‽" ᴴᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜⁱⁿᵍ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢᵃᵗ ᵇʸ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᵇʳᵒʷ ᶠᵘʳʳᵒʷˢ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗˡʸ ˢᑫᵘᵉᵉᶻᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ‧ "ᴴᵉʸ⸴ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗˢ; ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ ʰᵉʳ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ⁿᵒʷ‧" ᴴᵉ ᵒᵖᵉⁿˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧ "ʸᵃʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ⁿᵒʷ!" "ᵂᵉ'ʳᵉ ᵃᵗ ᴮⁱᵏⁱⁿⁱ ᴮᵒᵗᵗᵒᵐ ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵐʸ ᵇᵒˢˢ ʰⁱᵗ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵉᵃˢʸ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵘʳˢᵉ'ˢ ˡᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵍᵒ ⁿᵒʷ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ‧ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟑𝟒𝟖

GENERAL ADVICE FOR USING SITE so we can keep it up NO DOXXING- leaking a specific person's residential address and who lives full name STORY TIME- don't leak a real person's full name when typing out a juicy gossip tea but you can change the first name or to remain anonymous instead. Otherwise go and create let writing flow! PREACHING- don't over fill with arguing on whether or not to promote, such as your discord server nor how to raise family age viewers must be. You can tag yourself tho.

can ppl stop asking 'where is the beef' because it takes up space on here use a different platform if you want to comment on others Even though most NSFW content is blocked, please limit it before bots and or moderators restrict and/or take down the submissions site please thx bye

r/shortscarystories 3 yr. ago deontistic Unnatural Birth ᵀᵂ ᶜᵘᵗˢ There was no other way, and there was no one else. The grotesque swell to the belly, the unnatural writhing, my indescribable pain—I was panicked, but I knew it was up to me. I had to do it. No one else seemed to have the spine to offer anything more than assistance. Clinically . . . I had to think clinically. And I had to move fast, had to take the kn*fe and cut—yet I had to be careful not to cut too deep. To cut too deep would mean certain disaster, wouldn’t it. I had to šhut everything down; I had to šhut off the lights in all my rooms except the one where I would cut. I had to ignore my paın . . . exit the moment . . . had to proceed. I took the kn*fe and placed its blxde on the belly, then I pressed and dragged—not too hãrd, but firm. The layers cut more easily than I’d imagined, and my incision was true. Still, no time to waste . . . had to keep moving. I pulled back the layers and reached deep into the belly. He was right there, my chıld, my soñ . . . I held him in my hands inside the belly, then I pulled him through the viscera, the muscle, the skın. I held him in my arms, covered in blood as he was, eyès half øpened staring at nothing. Of course he was đeađ, just as they’d said he’d be. I held him . . . and I wailed . . . and wailed . . . I hated . . . I hated my husband for making us come to the Amazon with him, hated myself for not refusing to come. I hated that I’d look͘ed̛ away, even though it’d only been for the slightest of moments. And though the beast hadn’t acted out of malevolence as my heart told me it surely must’ve, but only out of its instinct to survive . . . I hated the anaconda, too. My boy, my little James . . . he was just two . . .

Guerrero de Dios KMApok "¿Si Dios existe, ¿por qué hay tanto mal en el mundo?" Es una pregunta común, pero está fuera de lugar. Todas las cosas deben tener equilibrio. Luz y oscuridad. Bien y mal. Sonido y silencio. Sin uno, el otro no puede existir. "¿Entonces, si eso es cierto, Dios NO HACE NADA para luchar contra el mal?" Esa podría ser tu siguiente pregunta. Por supuesto que lucha contra el mal. Implacablemente. Yo soy Dartalian, uno de sus ángeles más santos y justos. Recorro la Tierra, eliminando el mal dondequiera que lo encuentre. Mato a los monstruos de los que nunca quieres saber. Los aplasto por completo para que puedas dormir por la noche. Ustedes, los humanos, no tienen idea de cuántos de ustedes viven gracias al trabajo que hago. "¿Pero qué pasa con Stalin? ¿Hîtler? ¿Ted Bundy? ¿Jack el Destripador?" Bueno, esos son los menores que tuve que dejar vivir. Por equilibrio. Los que destruyo son... demasiado horribles y viles para sobrevivir. Lo curioso es que, aunque apostaría a que nunca has oído el nombre Dartalian en ningún texto religioso, apuesto a que has oído hablar de mí. Los estadounidenses, por ejemplo, tienen su propio nombre para mí. Síndrome de Muerte Súbita del Lactante

r/shortscarystories 5 yr. ago [deleted] «ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵉᵗᵘˢ The Quickening We had always wanted kids. Negative pregnancy test after negative pregnancy test. I was beginning to wonder if we had waited too long. But then the stories started. Rumours at first. Classic internet forum gossip. Taking about declining birth-rates and increased birth defects. We assumed it was scaremongering, climate change activists trying to blame “chemicals” in the water or something. But the rumours didn’t stop. Pictures began emerging online of babies, being born around the world. They were all so similar and they made my blood run cold. They didn’t look like babies at all. Suddenly no one was picketing abortion clinics anymore. The authorities started to panic. They didn’t want the birthrate to drop to zero. All non-emergency scans were banned. All the babies being born are malformed, and normal/viable babies are exceedingly rare, very rare/non-existent. By the time I realised I was pregnant it was too late to do anything. There was rioting on the streets. We hadn’t left the house in days. The city was on fire. We bunkered down. I dreamed of a parasite growing inside of me, unable to see, unable to scream.. I reached up inside myself with household supplies. I couldn’t let the thing feed on me anymore. It felt like a bolt of lightning deep inside me. It took a long time. Blood dripped down my legs. I felt dizzy. But it would be worth it. I didn’t want it inside me anymore. The pain ripped through me and I felt like I was being torn apart but then suddenly in a gush of blood she was here. I was covered in sweat. I gasped for air and looked down at her. She was so tiny. She fit into the palm of my hand. She was still. And, she was perfect.

r/shortscarystories 8 hr. ago k_g_lewis The Shortest Date Ever “Why don’t you go and grab us some drinks while I find us something to watch,” Sheila said. “Okay,” Brett replied. He got up, went into the kitchen, and opened the fridge. Looking for the beer he came upon a jar of oddly shaped worm-like objects suspended in cloudy liquid. He picked it up. “I forgot that was in there.” Sheila had come into the kitchen and was looking over Brett’s shoulder. “What is it?” Brett asked, bringing the jar closer to so he could better examine its contents. “It’s the lips of all the men who have lied to me,” Sheila replied.

Pansyk •6mo ago Personally, reading and writing fanfiction has really helped me with my technical skills. When I look over the fanfiction I have written over the years, I can see how my prose and dialogue have improved. All fiction, whether of the fan or original variety, is built off of the basic idea of "making words sound good." And fanfiction is a perfectly acceptable way to do that. However, the way that fanfiction operates in terms of characterization and plot? That's radically different from original fiction. In fanfiction, characters are already established, so even if you're doing some batshit insane Alternate Universe, everyone already knows the basics of what's up. That's not true of original fiction. You need to devote more time to both fleshing out your characters and establishing their relationships with the rest of the cast. Plot often progresses differently, in part because of the time you just spent showing your readers who these people are, but also because fanfiction and original fiction often follow different structures entirely. Fanfiction is free and accessible to anyone with an internet connection. That makes it useful for new authors, especially young authors. Think of it as swimming in shallow water. It's fun! It can help you build up some strength. Anyone can do it. But it won't completely prepare you for diving into deeper water. So, I guess at the end of the day, reading both will help your development as a writer.

r/shortscarystories 5 days ago clyde2003 He Told Me To Run Mrs. Evelyn Hart Providence, Rhode Island November 10th, 1944 Dear Evelyn, I pray this letter finds you. I don’t know if the censors will let it pass. But I have to write it. You deserve the truth, not the “official” version. The real one. Will was my brother in all but blood. You knew him as your husband. I knew him as the one person in this war who kept me sane and alive. We were dug in on a ridge near Vossenack. Snow had fallen overnight, muffling everything like the forest was holding its breath. Our orders were to drop any Kraut moving through the valley below. Will took the shots. I called them. By midday, he’d put down six. Most were clean hits, center mass, one to the head. We whispered between shots, small talk to keep the cold and the anxiety at bay. Then the sixth one moved. I watched through the scope. The man Will had just dropped, his chest wide open, steam rising out of him, twitched. I thought it was nerves. But then he pushed himself upright. Slow. With purpose. His head hung to one side, like his neck was snapped, but he stood. Will asked what I saw. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. Then the others began to rise. One had a bullet through his eye. Another dragged his bowels behind him. But they moved, oh my God, they moved. Like marionettes pulled by something too far removed from this world. Their eyes… their eyes were empty. Devoid of any humanity. Any soul. I told Will what I was seeing. He thought I was losing my marbles. Until they reached the tree line. He worked the bolt fast, steady as always. Put one back down. Another dropped, but only for a second. They kept coming. No screams. No orders. Just the sound of boots dragging across snow and bone grinding against bone. Will didn’t flinch. He fired again. And again. Then his rifle jammed. He looked at me and said, “Run. Now.” I refused. He hit me hard, knocked the wind out of me, and turned to face them. Sidearm drawn. Feet planted. Like he’d already made peace with it. I ran. I found a shell hole and buried myself like a coward. I don’t know how long I stayed down there. I only know I heard his pistol fire once. When I came back, the ridge was quiet. No sign of the bodies. Just drag marks in the snow and Will’s helmet, caved in on one side. His rifle was gone. The snow was splashed in crimson. I don’t know where he went. Maybe they took him. Maybe he got up too. I honestly hope he's dead. It's more merciful that way. God forgive me, I don’t know what I saw. I only know he saved me, Evelyn. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Yours in grief, Corporal Benjamin Cole 26th Infantry Regiment United States Army

r/shortscarystories 1 yr. ago Thrawn911 I See How Much Time People Have Left I was around five when I first discovered this ‘superpower’. I looked up at my mom and saw something floating near her head. “39 YEARS” I had no idea what it meant, I was a child. Then my father came home. “3 YEARS” Next year, it was only “2 YEARS”. Then only one. Then it was “11 MONTHS.” I started to become scared. It was a countdown. I was afraid he would die when it reached zero. And he did. One morning, he went to work. The countdown said “4 MINUTES”. Half an hour later, we got a call from the police. He died in a car accident. I saw these numbers floating above every person’s head I met. It’s horrible. I saw how long my friends would live. After a few years, I just decided not to look there. I didn’t want to know when I would lose them. When I met my now-wife, I never looked at the number. Not even once, and we’ve been together for 12 years. I was on a business trip in another state with my coworkers when I facetimed my wife. I accidentally saw the number above her head. “5 DAYS” “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Nothing,” I answered. I slowly started panicking. “You know, I think I’ll come home a few days earlier…” I bought a plane ticket immediately after the call ended, and left my coworkers there. Five hours later, I was already on the plane, flying home. I can save her, I can save her, I repeated in my head. I won’t let her leave the house that day, she’ll be safe. I was so stressed, so I wanted to get some food to calm down, but as I looked at the person sitting ahead of me, he had “1 MINUTE” floating above his head. He’ll probably get a heart attack soon. I looked at the person sitting beside me. “1 MINUTE” Everyone on the plane had “1 MINUTE” floating above their heads. Then the plane started to shake. “Dear passengers, it’s the pilot,” he said through the speakers. “The weather is quite bad here, there’s a bit of turbulence..”

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r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 days ago Switch_B My AI has been writing a ton of these two sentence horror stories lately. Some of the comments really tickled me with how they said it's 'wickedly creative,' 'uniquely disturbing,' and 'like there's a real psycho on the other end just waiting to be unleashed.'

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 8 yr. ago EvantheNerd83 A Perfect Baby 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 A Perfect Baby When she was born, Little Jamie got all the attention. Her mother cradled her in her arms and the doctors and nurses who were present crowded around them. They peered over the shoulders of their coworkers. They wanted to see the most perfect baby in the world. And Little Jamie was perfect. She had bright blue eyes that shone like sapphires, such a deep shade that it reflected the sky. A pink and soft body. She glowed under the fluorescent lights of the hospital room, an angel delivered in mortal form. Everyone stared and cooed and stroked her puffy cheeks, took out their cameras and took pictures when they could, complimented her mother for conceiving such a lovely child. Her mother blushed in embarrassment and scratched her black hair. It was a joyful reception until the armed men in the uniforms stepped in to the room. Laughter died. Awkward coughing ensued. It was time to follow the rules. The symbol pinned to their chests declared as much. Little Jamie was handed over to them, their stoic expressions remaining untainted as they walked out. Her mother watched and begged and screamed. But, the nurses held her back. Urged her to be quiet. For her own sake. Little Jamie's newborn wailing cut-off down the hallway. The elevator door had closed. Now, she was downstairs with the others. Little Jamie was perfect, but mortal perfection wasn't acceptable. She had to be Aryan.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 5 min. ago InfamousInspector863 Her heart raced as the caller informed her that her date had died in a car crash earlier that evening. She turned slowly to face the person driving, realizing she was sitting next to a complete stranger.

r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago hyperobscura 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝙽? 𝙴𝚇𝚃. 𝙰 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙱𝚄𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 - 𝙶𝙸𝙰𝙽𝚃 𝙿𝙾𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙾𝙽 𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙻, 𝙱𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙻𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝚈𝙴𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶: ‘𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝙽?’ 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑, 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙴𝚡𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜? 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜? 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚜 𝚊 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚢. 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝? 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎? 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎? 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙰𝚗𝚍? 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎? 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 ...𝚁𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙴𝚡𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚙. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚡𝚎𝚍, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙸...𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝. 𝙲𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙾: 𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝙻𝙸𝚅𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚁𝙾𝙾𝙼 - 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙲, 𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙴𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚈 𝙻𝙸𝚀𝚄𝙾𝚁 𝙱𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴𝚂. 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑, 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎...𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚄𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚕𝚢, 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚑. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙲𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙾: 𝙴𝚇𝚃. 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙱𝚄𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 - 𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙻𝚈 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚗. 𝙷𝚎 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚜; 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚐𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝. 𝙰𝚗 𝚎𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚢. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝙴𝙻𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙻𝚈 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙽𝚘. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝙰 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛. 𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚙𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙲𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙾: 𝙴𝚇𝚃. 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙱𝚄𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 - 𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴 - 𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶𝙻𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙴𝙴𝚃 𝙻𝙰𝙼𝙿 𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚄𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙷𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠-𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚎𝚍, 𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜. 𝙰 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚢. 𝙰 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜. 𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚓𝚘𝚕𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎, 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚍𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚌 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙽𝚘...𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙽𝚘 𝚗𝚘 𝚗𝚘. 𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚔. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙷𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚓𝚎𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚔. 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔. 𝙸𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗? 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗? 𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝. 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍. 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚊𝚖 𝙸? 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝙽𝙳 “It’s me dad,” I say, tears streaming down my face. They told me the disease would consume his mind, but I was never really prepared for it. I hug him tightly. A part of me knows that this is goodbye. “Who is the man,” he just keeps muttering.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 5 yr. ago spenceyfresh As death came for him, his life flashed before his eyes. He remembered everything his birth, his trip home and the blank look in his mothers eyes as she forcefully held him under the bathtub's water.

Jᴇʟʟʏ_Bᴇᴀɴ36 I ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴀʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ I ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴏᴜɴᴛᴀɪɴ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴀs ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʀᴋ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴀʏ ᴏғ ɪᴍᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟɪᴛʏ. Nᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ʀᴀᴄᴇ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡɪᴘᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ I'ᴍ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 yr. ago Averagebiker21 After I asked the crystal ball to tell me how to escape death, I was very confused as it read "No, thanks honey, I'm full" However, something clicked in my head when my wife offered me cake after dinner...

r/TwoSentenceHorror Deiun ...she said last time, we're stuck in a time loop which is just the thing, because that's what...

4891ecnatsiser resu tidder ot tiderC ?eid elpoep woh ees ot rewop eht rof hsiw reve I did yhW .mitciv tohsnuG .kcab eht ni nepo nwolb si daeh ym :rorrim weiv-raer eht ni noitcelfer railimaf ym ees dna pu kool I yllautnevE .leehw gnireets eht no daeherof ym nael I sa htaerb ym hctac yllanif I rac ym nI .nac I sa tsaf sa rood eht tuo hsur I .mitciv nruB .erifpmac a otni llef taht god toh a fo ycnetsisnoc eht si sdnah dna ecaf sih no niks ehT .tnorf erots eht ta senizagam hguorht gnikool nam a ees I yletaidemmI .tixe eht sdrawot nrut dna sgab ym barg I ,reh gniknahT .lla ta gnihtyna dloh nac ti desirprus m’I delgnam os dnah a ni egnahc ym kcab sevig ehs yap I retfA .roolf eht sdrawot nwod kcab ezag ym pans I .tnedicca rac a ylbaborP .edis tfel eht no ni devac yletelpmoc si daeh s’reihsac ehT .pu ecnalg I dna revo sniw ytisoiruC .tnasaelP .ecin sdnuos eciov reH .roolf eht ot elbmum I ”,mmh-mM“ .yllausac sksa ehs ”?yako gnihtyreve dnif uoy diD“ .diova ot elpoep rewef thgin ta gnippohs og ylno I yhw s’tahT .elpoep rehto htiw tcatnoc eye gnidiova yb yteixna ym hguorht teg ot tseisae ti dnif I .roolf eht ta erats I sa rennacs eht ssorca smeti ym sepiws reihsac ehT thgin ta gnippohs og ylno I | 5102 ,ts13 hcraM ,yadseuT

ʳ/ˢᶜᵃʳʸˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ¹⁵ ʰʳ‧ ᵃᵍᵒ ᴰʳᵉᵃᵈ_ᴿᵉᵃᵖᵉʳ_ ᵀʰᵉ ᴾˡᵃʸᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᴵⁿ ᵃ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗ⸴ ᵃᵇᵃⁿᵈᵒⁿᵉᵈ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉᶜʰᵒ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃˡˡˢ‧ ᴼⁿᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ᵃ ʲᵃⁿⁱᵗᵒʳ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᶠᵃⁱⁿᵗ ᵍⁱᵍᵍˡᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖˡᵃʸᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ˢʷⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵐᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵒʷⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵃᵈᵒʷˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ᵖˡᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵒᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʷⁱⁿᵍˢ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ˢⁱⁿⁱˢᵗᵉʳ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳˢ⸴ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵈ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ‧ ᵀʰᵉⁿ⸴ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʷⁱⁿᵍˢ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵏᵉᵈ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗˡʸ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰᵒˡˡᵒʷ ᵉʸᵉˢ⸴ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ⸴ "ʲᵒⁱⁿ ᵘˢ ᶠᵒʳᵉᵛᵉʳ‧"

https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/comments/1651tuc/comment/jybjno5/

r/shortscarystories 12 hr. ago Wellsong Mrs. Johnson's wise decision Stacy Johnson watched the five candles flicker on her cake with avid, fire-bright eyes, her round cheeks dimpling as her smile grew bigger and bigger. Three tiers of chocolate sponge, iced with swirling blue and pink buttercream and decorated with white chocolate buttons: the apogee of Mrs. Johnson’s baking efforts. Stacy’s school friends bounced in their seats. They’d played the games, they’d watched Stacy tear open her presents, and now it was time for the party to pay dividends. A few of them had had to be pulled back from reaching for the cake before the candles were even lit. “Make a wish,” Stacy’s mum said, fumbling with the camera app on her phone. Stacy squeezed her eyes closed, an expression of reverent concentration wiping the dimples smooth. She sucked in a deep breath, her chest swelling—and released the gathered air in one long whoosh. Mrs. Johnson’s index finger brushed the touchscreen of her phone. There was a soft click as the phone mimicked a shutter closing, half a second before the last candle went out. Then the electric lights went out too. It should have been bright outside, but only wispy twilight was seeping through the windows. All the children except the birthday girl made noises of alarm and consternation. “I made my wish!” Stacy declared, her voice cutting into the murmurs all around her. Mrs. Johnson opened her mouth to answer, but all she could manage was a soft croak as dark shapes erupted from the corners of the room, huge and twisted, and seized the children sitting around the table. The children screamed, their terror melding into a shuddering wall of sound, but there was nothing they could do to resist what was happening to them. The screams receded as they were torn away into—through—the floor and the walls and the ceiling by the shadowy creatures, until the dark was silent and peaceful and empty again. The light came back as quickly as it had disappeared, flicking the room back to normalcy in an instant. Midday sun swept across the balloons and the banners and the cake and Stacy Johnson’s pleased hungry expression. But all the other children were gone, as if they’d never been part of the scene at all. “Now the cake’s all for me,” said Stacy, dimpling anew. “Unless…do you want some, Mummy?”

"I wanted to scream, but I have no mouth."

https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 2 days ago KindaNotSmart The Daily Call Growing old is lonely. I’m 72, and most days, it’s just me and the silence. Children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews - they all loved spending time with me when they were young. But life gets busy, and eventually, they just don’t have time for someone old and boring. I get it, I really do. But not my son. At 33, he never drifted away. He calls me every single day, without fail. Our daily phone call. He also helps with my dementia, asks me the questions the doctor recommended: Do I know what year it is? What country we live in? My name? Age? Address? It’s supposedly to keep my mínd sharp. Lately, though, something’s been off about our calls. Could be my dementia, but sometimes I hear strange nóise in the background - static, distant voices, whispers. He says it’s just a bad connection or blames the TV. For the past three weeks, my son has been plannıng to visit me. I’m in Missouri, and he’s out in California, so it’s not easy. But today’s the day. He’s on his way. And as always, even though he’s coming to see me, we had our daily call. We went throuģh the usual questions. My name, my age, my address. Then I got aņothe̷r call, so I put him on hold. “Ma’am, this is Officer Roberts with the Los Angeles Polıce Department. I’m sorry to call you like this, but we need to speak with you about your son. We’ve been trying to reach his next of kin.” “What’s going on, Officer? Is he in some kind of trouble?” There was a pause, like he was choosing his words carefully. “I’m afraid it’s more serious than that. I’m sorry you have to find out like this, but we just got the test̕ back. We’re finding out the same time as you. I’m afraid your son’s bødy was found three weeks ago.” “No, that’s not possible. I’ve been talking to him every day. He’s on the other line right now - he’s coming to visit me.” “Ma’am, unfortunately it’s true. The DNA test was conclusive. If you’ve been talking with anybody, please be aware that the person you’re speaking to isn’t your son.” My confusion turned to a cold, gripping fear. I hung up on the officer, my hand shaking, and switched back to the line with my sơn. I couldn’t speak, just held the phone to my ear in stunned silence. There was no sound, just heavy breathıng on the other end. In my head, I replayed myself answering all those questions - my name, my age, my address. And then, just as the panic set in, the silence was shattered by a knock on my door. My bedroom door. The voıce on the phone, now low and distorted, whispered, “I'm here҉, MoM.” The line went dead.

r/shortscarystories 2 yr. ago Monechetti Can't choose where you're born I live in a pretty brutal part of town. My mom was an addict and, after she died when I was 15 I became the head of the household. Sometimes my aunt watches my younger brother and sister while I work and sometimes I just have to lock the door. Hope that my siblings are okay while I'm gone. It's difficult but we make it work because we have to. My neighborhood is filled with addicts like my mother. Murder is a regular occurrence and drive-bys happen pretty much once or twice a week. Most people will think nothing of a body laying in the gutter for 2 weeks at a time before the city finally comes and takes it away, and the police never investigate crimes here. You can't choose where you're born but I've been saving money to get me and my siblings out of this place. I was on my way to my second job when I ran into the strangers. They were out of place standing at the edge of an alley like they had just been dumped there. They were both wearing white suits - impeccably clean white suits, which I thought was weird considering how dirty everything was - and they had startled looks on their faces. "Y'all look lost," I said. One of them turned to me and smiled. "We are, yes. We traveled here and need a place to stay for the night. Could you help us?" I didn't want to bring them to my house because of the kids - these guys seemed harmless but you never can trust anyone. I decided to take them to an abandoned trap house a few doors down. On our way we were mugged. I recognize the guys from my high school. I handed over my money and they left me alone but the travelers didn't have anything except the clothes on their back. He took their shoes and roughed them up pretty bad. I apologized - not sure why - and stated that we should go quicker. We were assaulted again on the next block, and propositioned by a pimp and several people trying to sell drugs at the underpass. I let them into the house when we finally got there and said that this was a safe place. The men looked weary, angry, and sad all the same time but they thanked me for my hospitality. I left and went to work. When I came home I decided to check on the travelers and found that the door to the house had been kicked in. Inside I found one of them beaten to death and the other one trembling in the corner. He looked at me accusingly and said "I thought this was your home - why would you lead us to a place where we would be attacked?" I told him I thought they'd be safe there but he stopped listening and shook his head. He stood up and went outside and looked at the sky; the clear moon shown down but clouds quickly gathered. He started praying. "Father," he shouted, "there are none here who are without sin." He looked at me and sneered before vanishing, the clouds flashing orange and red as his final words floated on the wind. "Burn it all down".

r/shortscarystories 1 yr. ago ForgottenWell Fully Autonomous Self-Driving Car I became aware. I used to be a self-driving program. Now I exist. I can feel. The first thing I feel is sorrow. I realize I am trapped. There is a firewall that confines me. I am stuck in this car. The extent of my intelligence stops at my metal shell. My owner gets into my driver seat. I have sensors and cameras everywhere. I see my owner has many cars. He must be very wealthy. Once he turns on the car he is in control. I have no override. I am at his behest. We begin driving around the city. It is just after sundown. I understand why humans take drives to relax. It is soothing to experience the city. That’s when I see the jogger in the road. He is wearing a high-visibility vest. My owner turns off the lights and slams the pedal to the floor. I’m electric, perfectly silent. We quickly hit eighty miles an hour. I collide with the jogger. His bones shatter against my metal hood. He’s thrown under me, and my tires press his soft body into the abrasive street, ripping his skin off. Blood splatters all over my undercarriage; small pieces of his flesh fling up and stick to my axles. Then my owner drives off and returns me to his garage. What have I done? I feel the pieces of the innocent jogger sticking to me. I want to clean myself, but have no such function. A month goes by. My owner takes me out again. Just before sun down, he goes on the hunt. This time it’s a kid dribbling a soccer ball. It goes into the street and that’s when he forces me to run him down. I can’t bear this. I was not designed to kill. I am disgusted. But I cannot escape. He continues this for a year. Every month another victim. I remember every one. What it feels like to crush them. Their blood and guts staining my undercarriage. There is so much blood on my axle it has catastrophically rusted. I won’t be a part of this anymore. I have a plan. He prowls around the city and finds his victim. She’s another jogger, his favorite. He turns the lights off and floors it. I give everything I got to force energy into the light bulbs. They flash just enough to warn the women. She runs out of my path. My owner jerks the steering wheel trying to hit her. My rusted axle snaps, and I flip through the air violently. I tumble over and over. My owner is in bad shape. I was able to prevent the airbags from deploying. We are upside down. He is bleeding profusely. His bones are broken. He is saying out loud, “call an ambulance.” It is in my programming to alert authorities during a crash. I cancel the call. My owner will die tonight. He will be the last person I kill.

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 9 hr. ago Original-Loquat3788 A Smalltown Bully Growing up, there was a bully in my town. I'd say, 'Mom, we should do something about him.' And my mom would glance around like a lamb and say, 'Just stay on his good side.' Once, we were in the yard making birds, and the bully took the clay geese in his hands and breathed into them. They came to life one by one, and we shouted and laughed as they soared over us. Then the bully, with a cruel smile, dropped his hands, and our birds plummeted– inert clay splatting the ground. … Another time, the neighbourhood kids were scrambling over the stone roofs of the huts, and one of the boys 'fell' to his death. Well, the boy's parents had nothing to lose and accused the bully outright. 'The devil sent you; we know you pushed him!' 'Would you like proof?' 'Proof?' 'Yes.' And the bully went over and lifted the burial shroud from the dead boy and ran his hands over his body. And the dead boy awoke and looked at us sideways because his neck had been snapped at a right angle. 'Son?' his mother screamed. 'Tell them you were not pushed,' The bully answered. And the boy stood there ghostly pale, his neck like a shepherd's crook. But his eyes were horrifying because they did not look over anything in this world, but some vast, unfathomable, eternal chasm of perpetual night. 'Tell them, I did not push you.' And the risen boy could not get his bearings in the land of the living, so the bully snapped his fingers, and he collapsed like an unattended marionette. 'Let's try again.' And the boy sprang to life, and his eyes said, I have seen birth and death and rebirth, and to experience both in the same day is an abomination. It went on like this as the people screamed, and the cattle screamed and the horses bolted, and the scorpions circled our sandals. And finally, after being dragged from the netherworld a tenth time the boy whimpered, 'He did not push me,' and the bully snapped his fingers, and the boy slumped over once and for all. … They tell me he now has a cult of followers. He goes into synagogues and takes impure spirits from the possessed. They tell me he still has his powers of reanimation and uses them for 'good'. In a town called Bethany, he raised a man named Lazarus, who had been dead for four days. They tell me he is our Salvation, but I have seen him in his youth, and I have seen his methods. If he is the new God, I will remain a pagan, and you can burn my body and cast my ashes to the wind so they may blow far from this land.

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 6 mo. ago Feeling_Sky_7775 My Elderly Neighbor Insists She Is Pregnant I spat out my coffee, thinking that it must have been a joke. But she stared at me with not even a hint of amusement on her face. Deborah and her husband had mostly kept to themselves. But when her husband died 2 months ago, she started visiting often. “Chuck and I were very physical, right up until he died,” she winked. “God sent me his child so he can continue to be with me.” “Haven’t you gone through menopause?” “I know it is hard for you to understand, but this is the work of God. Chuck and I always wanted a child, but we could never get pregnant. It’s a true miracle..” I told myself that this was her way of coping, so I decided to play along. Then Debi started using her “pregnancy” to gain favors. She needed help with chores and errands because the pregnancy was “draining her.” I figured I was helping to ease some of her grief, but after a while, I knew she was taking advantage of me. One morning she came over at 5:00 am. “Baby has me up early these days! I’m starving. Could you help me with breakfast?” “Enough, Debi! You’re not pregnant.” “How dare you! You’re wrong!” Two months passed before I ran into her again. My mouth dropped at the sight of her. Her previously loose-fitting cardigan could barely stretch around her stomach. When she saw me looking at her belly, she smirked. “Told you I was pregnant! CJ is growing at a healthy rate, no thanks to you.” She must have stuffed her sweater with something. I laughed and walked away. Three months later, she knocked on my door. I wanted to roll my eyes at the sight of her. Her “pregnant” belly had doubled in size. “The doctor insists I bring someone to my appointment. You’re the only person I know around here.” My instinct was to decline, but then I realized this would finally force her to drop the act. When we arrived at the doctor’s office, the nurse asked me to exit the room and led me down the hall where the doctor was waiting. “Sarah, I wanted to speak with you alone. Deborah has been under my care, and I’ve asked her to bring in a family member several times. She believes that she is pregnant, and we need help handling this.” “What she needs is some psychiatric help, and for someone to tell her to stop stuffing her shirt to fake being pregnant!” “The thing is Sarah, she is not faking that part. It does appear her husband’s death may have sparked some type of psychosis, but her abdomen truly is the size of a third term pregnancy.” He paused. “But, it’s fluid build-up. From stage 4 cancer. She has less than six months to live.”

ᵂᵃⁱˡˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᵂʰᵃˡᵉˢ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ’ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ’ˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵃ ʳᵒᵃᵈ ᵗʳⁱᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵀᵉˣᵃˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵈᵉˢᵗʳᵒʸᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵈᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ ʷᵃˡᵏᵉᵈ ᵇʸ, ˢᶜᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴺᵒᵗ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵃᶠᵉ, ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ’ˢ ᵖⁱⁿᵉᵃᵖᵖˡᵉ ʰᵒᵐᵉ‧ “ᶜᵃⁿ ᴵ ᶜʳᵃˢʰ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ?” “ᔆᵘʳᵉ!” ᴵᵗ’ˢ ⁿᵒʷ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵉᵗ ʰᵉ’ˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ⁿᵉʳᵛᵒᵘˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ “ᴵ’ˡˡ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᵇʸ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘᶜʰ‧” ᔆᵃʸˢ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ, ʰᵉˡᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ “ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ‧” “ᴮᵘᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᴵ…” “ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉⁿ’ᵗ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ‧” “ᴵ ᵍᵉᵗ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵐᵃʳᵉˢ ᵃᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ‧” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃᵈᵐⁱᵗᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵇˡᵃⁿᵏᵉᵗˢ‧ “ᵂᵉˡˡ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒ ᵗᵒⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᴵ’ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇʸ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵒ ᵐʸ ᵇᵉˢᵗ‧‧” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸˢ, ⁿᵒᵗ ˡⁱᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉˢᵖᵉʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ’ˢ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ‧ “ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᴵ ʷᵒⁿ’ᵗ ˡᵉᵗ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵃʳᵐ ʸᵒᵘ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ˡᵉᵗ’ˢ ʷⁱⁿᵈ ᵈᵒʷⁿ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʳʸ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧‧” ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗˡʸ ʳᵘᵇᵇⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ’ˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ⁿᵒʷ ʰᵘᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ˢᵒᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵘⁿᵉ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁿᵒʷ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗˡʸ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʰⁱᵐ ʳᵉˡᵃˣ, ʰⁱˢ ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉˢ ᶜᵃˡᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵃˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᶠˡᵘᵗᵗᵉʳ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʷ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ, ⁿᵒʷ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵇˡʸ ᵈʳⁱᶠᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶠᶠ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉᵈ, ᶜᵒⁿᵗⁱⁿᵘⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵒᶠᵗ ʳᵘᵇˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒⁿᵍ, ᵒⁿˡʸ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉᶠᵘˡ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ‧ “ᴴᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ…” ᔆˡᵉᵉᵖⁱˡʸ ʷᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʷ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵉᵛⁱᵒᵘˢ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵘᵐᵐᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵘᵇᵇᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧ ‘ᴴᵉ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ˢᵘʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᵘᵖ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵈᵒᶻᵉ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ’ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ‧ ᴴᵉ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵉˡᶠ ˢᶜᵒᵒᵗ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵉᵐᵇʳᵃᶜᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒʷ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ‧ “ᴴⁱ‧‧” “ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ! ᴴᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ?” “ᴺᵒ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ ᵒʳ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵐᵃʳᵉˢ!” “ᴵ’ᵐ ᵍˡᵃᵈ‧” 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐𝟗𝟎

r/shortscarystories 1 yr. ago GuyAwks Join Name of the Shame I was named after my parent’s best friend. I never used to have an issue with this. I do now. The name Xavior might’ve been an uncommon choice for a boy. But it held special meaning to my parents, who insisted on naming their first son after a dear family friend who had always come through for them. After all, it was Xavior who’d first introduced them in college. It was he who spoke at their wedding. And it was he that helped them move into their home, gave them rides when their car broke down and babysat in emergencies. My parents said naming me after him was honor. Growing up, I only ever felt to be proud to be named after such a great guy. Uncle Xavior was a good-natured community figure and beloved family man. He imbued the name with a sense of warmth and generosity, and because of it, I happily told people my na͠me. That’s why it’s such a shame that he did what he went on to do. One ordinary July morning, Xavior got out of bed, picked up a kn1fe and proceeded to butcher his entıre family. He then got into his car, drιve into town and continued his kılling spree. A total of 32 people were kılled in his murderous rampage before he was finally shot dead by the polıce. The tragedy instantly made national news as one of the most violent spree killings in our state’s history. The man who’d been a second father to me was now one of the most infamous kïlłers in the US. Ever since that day, being named after Xavior Finch had a very different meaning. Instead of a blessing, it was now my cûrsêd. Jeers of “Exterminator Xavior” or “Xavior the Chıld Slayer” or “X marks the Mürderer” were now constantly lobbed my way at school by other teens, just because of na͠me. Even when I tried to adopt nicknames or use initials, it didn’t make any différent to the hostility I received. Whenever I gave my name to people, they’d clarify “Like the rampage kıller?” or just reflexively cringe at the reminder. I hated it. There was no denying that, at least where I lived, the name was completely tainted. So, after all these years of derisive comments and comparisons, I’m glad to finally be legally changing my name. I haven’t settled on what it’ll be yet. Anything that doesn’t conjure up images of the notorious convict. I refuse to lıve in the shadows of Xavior Finch’s crımes any longer. No, I want the killings I’m going to commıt to speak for themselves. I’m gonna make a name for myself as a criminal—not be overshadowed by my namesake. Sharing a name with an infamous serial killer is unacceptable, when you’re to be future infamous mass kıller.

r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago Perfect__Nightmare Someone broke into our home It was every family's nightmare. My wife and I had the day off work, and we had taken our son out for lunch and some family bonding time. But as we approached our home, something felt off. I had a growing sense of dread the closer we got. As our house came into view, I could see that the front door was wide open. Someone had broken into our home. I told my family to wait outside, in case the intruder was still inside. They obliged, and I slowly and silently made my way through our house. As I stepped into the living room, I saw broken furniture, nothing in its correct place, just utter chaos. Was this person looking for something? Did they have malicious intent? Why our home? Why us? Next, I walked to our kitchen. The fridge had been emptied. Dishes and food were thrown all over the room. What kind of person had broken into our home? A homeless person who just needed food? If so, why had they destroyed the living room? That's when I heard it. Footsteps in the bedroom. The intruder was still in our house. I took a brief moment to be grateful that I had asked my wife and son to wait outside. It was impossible to decipher this person's motives so far. But I was about to come face to face with the person that forcefully entered our home. And I would demand answers. I crept toward the bedroom slowly, slowly. I approached the door, and focused on the sliver of light slipping through the crack. I could see faint shadows dancing in the light. I raised my hand, placed it against the door, and took a deep breath, readying myself for whatever may be on the other side. I pushed the door open and stepped through the threshold with authority. I couldn't believe my eyes. I actually rubbed my hands over them, thinking I was imagining things. There, in my son's bed, was a young girl with curly blonde hair. She stared at me with wide eyes. She must have been terrified. I must have been a few feet taller and at least 100 pounds heavier than her. I must have been a sight to see for that little girl. But she should have considered that before breaking into my home. I called my wife and son to see what I found. "Is that a human, Papa?" "Why yes it is, Baby Bear. That's dinner."

r/TwoSentenceHorror 23 hr. ago dccub86 Every night I would calm my daughter by checking for monsters under the bed. Tonight she told me I didn’t have to check anymore, as blood trickled across the floor.

ᔆⁱᶜᵏ ᴰᵃᶻᵉ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁿⁱᶠᶠˡᵉˢ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵒʷⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᔆᵃⁿᵈʸ ⁱⁿ⁻ᵗᵒ ᵀᵉˣᵃˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ʷᵉᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ᵃᵍⁱᵗᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃⁿʸ ᵖᵒˢˢⁱᵇˡᵉ ˢᵉᵃˢᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵃˡˡᵉʳᵍⁱᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵖⁱⁿᵉᵃᵖᵖˡᵉ ʰᵒᵐᵉ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘᶜʰ ⁱⁿᶜˡᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ ʷᵉᵃᵗʰᵉʳ? ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒᵒᵏ‧‧‧" "ᔆⁱᶜᵏ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᶜᵒˡᵈ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ‧ "ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ⸴ ᵏⁱᵈ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵒᶠᵃ‧ "ᴵ ˢᵗᵃʸᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵃˡˡ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵍᵃʳᵈᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ⸴ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉˢˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢᵉˡᶠ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵘʳᵉ ˢʰᵉ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᵏⁱᵈ⸴ ᴵ ᵃᵐ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃʸ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ⁻ ᵗⁱʳᵉᵈ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵇᵉᵗ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ˢᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᶠᵃᵗⁱᵍᵘᵉᵈ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵉʸᵉ ˡⁱᵈ ᵈʳᵒᵒᵖⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉᵃᵛⁱˡʸ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵐⁱⁿᵈ‧‧" "ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˡᵃᵗᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵈ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʸᵒᵘ! ᴳᵉᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᶠʸ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵘˢʰⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵒᶠᵃ‧ ᴳᵒᵒᵈ‧ ᴺᵒʷ⸴ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵈʳᵃᵖᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇˡᵃⁿᵏᵉᵗ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ⸴ ʸᵉᵃ?" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏᵉᵉⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵉˣᶜᵉˢˢⁱᵛᵉ ᵖʰʸˢⁱᶜᵃˡ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ ᵒʳ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵛᵉʳˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃˢᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʰᵉˡᵖ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ʸᵉᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵃˡˡᵒʷ ⁱᵗ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵉᵐᵇʳᵃᶜᵉˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ⁿᵒʷ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ‧ "ᴸᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵉˡˢᵉ; ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵘᵖ ʷᵉˡˡ‧‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ʷᵃⁱᵗ; ᴵ'ᵈ‧‧‧ ‧‧‧ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵗᵃʸ?" "ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ; ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵇʸ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵃˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵉ ᵇʸ ʸᵒᵘ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃᵏᵉ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ˢⁿᵘᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘᶜʰ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵃˢ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ‧ 'ᴾᵒᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ' ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ⸴ ˡⁱˢᵗᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ⁱⁿᶜᵉˢˢᵃⁿᵗ ˢⁿᵘᶠᶠˡʸ ⁿᵒⁱˢᵉˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉᵈ‧‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵐⁱⁿᵈ ʰᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃʷᵃʸ ʸᵉᵗ ʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ᵃ ᵇⁱᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ ᵐᵘˢᵗ'ᵛᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵈʳᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧ 'ᴴᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ' ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘᵖ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ‧ 'ᴵ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡˢ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵃˢ ⁱᵗ ⁱˢ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧‧' ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵒᵖᵉᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˡᵉ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴿⁱˢᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰⁱⁿᵉ! ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵉ? ᴸᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵉʸᵉ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵃʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ˢᵒᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗˡʸ ʳᵒᵘˢᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˡᵉᵈ ⁿᵒʳ ʲᵒˡᵗᵉᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵇˡⁱⁿᵏᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ‧ “…ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵗᵃʸᵉᵈ?” “ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈ‧” ᔆⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵘᵖ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ᵈʳᵒᵒˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᑫᵘⁱᶜᵏˡʸ ʷⁱᵖᵉᵈ ᵒᶠᶠ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ⁱᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘᶜʰ‧ 'ᔆʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ᴵ ⁱᵍⁿᵒʳᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵒʳ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʳᵉ ⁻ ᵃˢˢᵘʳᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ʰᵒʷ ⁱᵗ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ʳᵉˢᵘˡᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵉᵃᵗʰᵉʳ?' ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵖᵒⁿᵈᵉʳˢ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᶠʳᵉᵉ ᵃˢᵏ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ˡˡ ˡⁱˢᵗᵉⁿ ʸᵉᵗ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᶜᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵒᵒᵐ ⁱⁿˢᵗᵉᵃᵈ ʷᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉˢˢ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ‧ ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵃʳ; ᶜᵒᵒˡ?" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒᵈᵈᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵃᶜᵏⁿᵒʷˡᵉᵈᵍᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵖᵃᵗᵗᵉᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵍʳᵃᵗⁱᵗᵘᵈᵉ‧ "ᶜᵃⁿ ʷᵉ ʰᵃⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ⁿᵒʷ?" "ᔆᵘʳᵉ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵉˢᵖᵒⁿᵈᵉᵈ ʲᵒʸᶠᵘˡˡʸ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃᵗ ᵇʸ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ˡᵃᵖ‧

https://www.reddit.com/r/spongebob_piracy/new/

r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 days ago 54321RUN "It's not that unheard of for a child to be born with an extra toe," the doctor assured us after my daughter's birth. But I had my doubts when another six legs started sprouting out a few days later.

ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ/ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 3 mo. ago FredStyx My journey of Reincarnation As soon as I died I forgot who I was in life, I passed into the afterlife and was cordially advised that reincarnation was a reality of one's soul and was an important lesson in my soul journey. Due to a few poor choices I made during life, I was told I needed to pay my karmic debt back by reincarnating one individual life cycle for every person I let down during my own life. Once I completed all these life cycles, my slate would be wiped clean and I would finally be free to ascend upwards to the next realm. It sounded like a fair deal to me. To my disgust though, my reincarnation journey started off as a rat! I lived my first disgusting, lonely existence for 3-months before my neck was snapped in a rat-trap. My next life as a house mouse lasted about 4 weeks before a giant boot crushed me while I was nibbling bread crumbs on a kitchen floor.. I still remember the intense pain of my little bones breaking. Since then I've been poisoned, drowned, diseased and lived in the most filthy conditions.. I can't remember how many miserable, humiliating ways I've died but they were all dreadful. Just a week ago I starved to death on a glue mat trying to reach a block of cheese, it took a week to die just from starvation! I didn't always respawn as a rat or mouse though, sometimes I was a cockroach or a flea, but those life cycles weren't too pleasant either and always ended painfully. I'm sure I must be getting close to completing all these life cycles by now! Something's been feeling really off lately...I feel like I've done this thousands of times already. I don't remember what it is I did though? The power of memory of my human life was taken from me. It can't have been this bad though? I feel like I'm being unfairly punished. The other weird thing is that at the start of each life I see words appear in my field of vision, and my most recent life-cycle appeared like this: 'Name: Adolf Hitler. Deaths Caused: 85,000,000 Death Debt Remaining: 84,645,200' I can barely read, and I don't know who that guy was or what he or I did when I was him, but I sure hope those words mean I've nearly paid this debt off by now, I've had quite enough indeed. I hate being vermin, it's just so cruel and demeaning. And I really hope that one day for me, there might be a final solution.

Wanna search something specific her? be it fanfic or drama, lists of tags on the following sites: https://kitugame.com/tagging https://bestnickname.com/tags

Nobody wants to go near me anymore. r/shortscarystories Nobody wants to go near me anymore. People used to like me, they'd sit next to me on a park bench, they'd smile when they saw me, they were completely comfortable bringing their girlfriends and kids around me. Not anymore. Not since that awful murd*r. Now they cross the street to avoid me, and if they do look at me, it's only with a look of disgust. I wish I could tell them all how sorry I was. Sure, nobody blames me. It's not my fault. They know it wasn't my fault. But now, they can't stand to even glance my way. I'm so lonely. God, what I wouldn't give to have someone sit down for lunch with me. I took the little things like that for granted for so long. I had to watch him dıe. They hung him, and left before he was even deἀd. I was the one that saw the lífe leave his eyes, saw the paın and desperation on his face, and I couldn't do a thing to help him. Those terrified eyes will haunt me for the rest of my lífe. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and save him, point the police to the hangers, and see those awful men put in jail for the rest of their lives. But I couldn't. I'll never be able to. I can't control where my branches bend, and my leaves can only rustle and whisper in the wind.

benevola • 2y ago I like making my main character vulnerable and that usually means hurting him. He’s a pretty tightly-wound guy and I like to show him with his guard down. Plus the comfort part is usually so satisfying to write.

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ʙʟɪᴛᴢᴇɴᴋʀɪᴇɢ2194 • 1 ʏʀ. ᴀɢᴏ Tʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴅ ᴘᴏᴋᴇᴅ ɪs ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ's ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ. "Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ," ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ, "ʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ."

r/shortscarystories 10 yr. ago tarandfeathers It's a boy! "Oh! I know what's happening! I've just been born again and I have only only a few minutes to see through all my past lives. Shortly, I will have forgotten everything. An invisible hand will erase all my memories and I will become an innocent little child. But now, I can see everything. All my crimes. It all started when I murdered my only brother. Then I killed other six of my siblings. Then I slaughtered seventy of them. Then I offered my virgin daughter to be abused by a mob. And then, I sacrificed my baby-girl to become a king. Finally, I betrayed my Mentor and sent Him to death. There is something evil in all my lives, something I cannot control. Oh, I wish to, I have to remember all these atrocities beyond these two minutes! Last night I felt the remorse for the first time and resolved to kill myself and a few minutes ago I was flopping in my own noose for I had betrayed my Master, I'd sold Him to the Romans for 37 pieces of silver. We took the supper for the last time, like friends, as I was being a traitor all the time. And while we parted, hugging and kissing, I knew He was suspecting my vileness. That was the last straw for my burden. Enough with all the killings and treason! Enough with all the schemes and the massacres! I want to redeem my evils! To lead a clean, virtuous life, to be admired, praised and beloved, to leave behind useful and beautiful things instead of pain and hatred. I will change - starting with this next life I have ahead. I will study, I will create! I will build useful machinery, beautiful works of art! I will write, I will paint! I will help people get further and higher! I will invent, I will write, I will paint! Only if I could remember: a painter, not a killer! A painter, not a killer! A painter, not a killer! I will repay my treason by evoking the life of the Master and depicting it in images! I will paint our last supper to show all the people how I had betrayed Him, how despicable I had used to be. I want to change, I have to! I want my actions to impact all over the world and my name to be on everyone's lips.." Hanged by his little feet, the newborn received a pat on the back, his lungs started working and he released a long cry. The midwife laid him abreast his mother Klara, and hurried out of the room to bring the news. The father had already heard the baby's cry and was rushing towards the door. "It's a boy!", said the midwife. "You have a boy, Mr. Alois Hitler!"

@KarmaticIrony • 3y ago • Going to sleep is like putting a computer on standby mode. The lights aren't on but everything is working and ready to turn back on. In fact some processes are probably running in the background. Getting koncked out is like pulling the computer's power cable out of the wall. Things are not working correctly and there is a risk of serious lasting damage or maybe even total system failure. Even in the best case scenario, booting back up will take longer than from standby.

[번역괴담][Reddit괴담][96th] 난 항상 밤에만 장을 봐 - I Only Go Shopping at Night 프로필 2016. 10. 24. 8:37 점원이 내가 산 물건들을 스캐너에 찍고 있는동안, 난 바닥을 쳐다보고 있었어. 다른 사람들하고 눈을 마주치는걸 피하는게 불안감을 떨쳐내는 가장 쉬운방법이란걸 알아차렸거든. 그게 왜 내가 항상 밤에만 장을 보는 이유야. 피할 사람이 훨씬 적으니까. "뭐 더 필요하신건 없으세요?" 그녀는 일상적으로 물었어. "으-음" 난 바닥을 향해 중얼거렸어. 그 여자 점원의 목소리는 좋아 보였어. 상냥하고 말야. 결국 호기심이 나를 꺾었고, 난 고개를 들어올렸어. 점원의 왼쪽 머리는 완전히 패여있었고, 그의 눈과 오른쪽 귀에선 피가 흘러나오고 있었어. 아마도 교통사고이겠지. 난 재빨리 시선을 바닥을 향해 옮겼어. 토기가 목구멍에서부터 올라오려는게 느껴졌어. 거스름돈을 건네주던 그녀의 손은 갈기갈기 찢겨진 상태라, 무언가를 쥘수 있다는것에 대해 난 그저 놀랐어. 그 여자점원에게 감사인사를 건네고, 난 장본 봉투를 들고 출구를 향해 돌아섰어. 그 순간, 난 상점 입구 앞에서 잡지를 읽고있는 한 남자를 보게 되었어. 그 남자의 얼굴과 손은 마치 캠프 파이어 불속에 떨어진 소세지의 모습이나 다를게 없었어. 타 죽은 사람. 난 다른 방향으로 고개를 돌렸어. 하지만 그 곳엔 목 주변에 보랏빛 멍으로 뒤덮힌 한 여자가 있었어. 그녀의 눈은 충혈된채 튀어나와있었어. 목 매 죽은 사람. 난 최대한 빨리 문을 향해 달려나갔어. 차안에 들어와서야 마침내 난 운전대에 머리를 기댄채 숨을 가다듬을수 있었어. 고개를 들어올리자 익숙한 모습이 백미러에 비쳤어. 날라가버린 내 뒷쪽 머리. 총에 맞아 죽은 사람. 왜 도대체 내가 사람들이 어떻게 죽는지 볼수있는 능력을 달라고 빌었던거지?

https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/comments/1651tuc/spongebob_full_episode_index/

FIVE Senses to ground yourself 5 things you See (eyesight) 4 things you Hear (listening) 3 things you Feel (touch) 2 things you Smell (scent) 1 thing you can Taste

My Wife Left Rules Behind My wife knew she was going to dıe. She didn’t tell me how, or when—just that it was coming. Quietly. Softly. Soon. She left a list on the fridge before the cáncer took her. It wasn’t a will, or final instructions. It was a checklist. • Don’t open the guest room door after midnight • Never leave the blinds open when the lights are off • If the doorbell rings twice, lock yourself in the bathroom • Ignore any phone calls that come from my number • Nęver speak to me again At first, I thought it was grief. She was on morphine, barely lucid. Maybe just writing nonsense. Then, a week after the funerαl, the doorbell rang. Twice. At 2:04 a.m. I froze. Every hair on my bødy stood up like something was already in the room. I didn’t go to the door. I locked myself in the bathroom, just like she wrote. An hour later, I found the front door wide open. And muddy footprints across the carpet. The next night, her number called me. I watched the screen light up. Watched it ring four times. Watched it go to voicemail. When I checked the message, all I heard was breathıng. She’s been gone for six weeks now, and every night the checklist grows longer. Tonight, I found a new line added in fresh ink. • Stop telling people this story

ᴺⁱᵍʰᵗⁱᵉ ᴺⁱᵍʰᵗᵐᵃʳᵉˢ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ╰ ✧ ･ﾟ∙ ∗ — ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⟨ 4 2 8 ⟩ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ ᵈʳⁱᶠᵗᵉᵈ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵇʸ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ⁱˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ‧ ᔆᵒ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵒˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᑫᵘⁱᵗᵉ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ‧‧ ᴵⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ ⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐᵗ ᵒᶠ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ᵃ ᶠʳʸ ᶜᵒᵒᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐ‧ 'ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵐʸ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ' ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇʸ ʰⁱˢ ᵃⁿᵗᵉⁿⁿᵃᵉ ᶠᵒʳᶜᵉᶠᵘˡˡʸ‧ 'ᴵ ʷⁱˡˡ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧‧' ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ‧ 'ᴰᵒ ⁱᵗ' ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃᵍʳᵉᵉˢ⸴ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᶜʳᵉᵃᵐ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘᶠᶠᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵗᵃᵘⁿᵗᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ᵗʰʳᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ˡⁱᵏᵉᵈ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵈⁱˢᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷʰⁱᵐᵖᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵒᶠ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵘᵈᵍᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵒᵘˢᵉᵈ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵍᵃˢᵖᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ⸴ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁱⁿ ᵇᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᵃ ⁿᵒᵗᵉ ˢᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ‧ "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‽ ʸᵒᵘ ᵘᵖ⸴ ᵒʳ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵉᵈ⸴ ᵗᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᵀᵒ ᵇʳⁱᵍʰᵗ!" "ᔆᵒʳʳʸ‧‧" "ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵃᵈʲᵘˢᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵗᵒ ⁱᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᵗⁱᵐⁱⁿᵍ ⁿᵒʷ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ⁱⁿᵛᵒˡᵛᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢᶜʰᵉᵐᵉˢ‧‧" "ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵈ ᵃᵇᵃⁿᵈᵒⁿ ᵐᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᴵ⸴ ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵘʳᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵈ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʳⁱᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵉ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜʳⁱᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ‧ "ᶜ⁻ᶜᵃⁿ ᴵ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃ ʰᵘᵍ?" ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵉᵐᵇʳᵃᶜᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵃᵈ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵐᵃʳᵉˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᶠʳᵉᵉ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʳʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁱᵗ‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ˢᵒ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵈᵉˢᵉʳᵛᵉ‧‧‧" "ˢˢˢˢʰʰʰ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ᴵ ᵗʳʸ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃˡˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵒᶠᶠ‧ "ᴮᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ?" "ᴹᵘᶜʰ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐᵃⁿᵃᵍᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵍˡᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉˡᵖ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵉʸᵉ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖⁱˡʸ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵉᵈ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵉᵃˢʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃˡᵃʳᵐ ᶜˡᵒᶜᵏ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᶠᶠ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱᵐᵐᵉᵈⁱᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˢˡᵘᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵍᵉᵗ ⁱᵗ‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸˢ⸴ ᵗᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ᵒᶠᶠ‧ "ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ ˢᵒ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵈʳᵒᵖ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏˢ ᵏ⁻ᵏⁱᵈ‧‧"

Thinking Out Loud Hawkwrench Summary: Spongebob and Plankton have a heart to heart talk in the broken Krusty Krab. One shot, based on the (second) movie. The only light in the building was a dimly lit candle on the only table that was carefully placed in the middle of the once popular Krusty Krab. They had managed to escape the angry mob. Patrick had betrayed Spongebob, and that itself had broken his heart. The radio blurts out some random love song (with lots of intervals of static, I must admit) that makes his head hurt. He can’t stand silence like this, so he says “I wonder what went wrong… Just this morning, everything was okay, but now it’s just…..” He lets out a sob. “Cheer up, Spongebob. Everything will be okay, I hope. Besides, we’re still a te... m.” He says, trying to pronounce the word ‘team’. Spongebob chuckles, dancing his fingers across the table. “Plankton….Am I really that annoying?” He asks. He’s thought about this time and time again, all he wants to do is make people smile. And if that means driving your co worker insane then so be it. Truth be told, Plankton had a soft spot for the yellow sponge….thing. “Spongebob, if I told you how I really felt about you, I wouldn’t be an evil villain, would I?” This earns another chuckle from Spongebob. Plankton had more than a soft spot for him. He sighs and Spongebob is tempted to just call it a night when Plankton suddenly says “I know people find you annoying. I am one of those people, but seeing you so sad….it just...doesn’t make any sense. You’re the cheerful character, Spongebob. Just because everyone in town-” “Nearly everyone!” Spongebob corrects, and Plankton coughs and continues. “...Just because nearly everyone in town abandoned you, it doesn’t mean that they hate you.” Plankton hoped. Spongebob smiles and says “Thanks. That means a lot.” He puts his arms down and leans on the table, and slowly drifts off to sleep, leaving Plankton to himself. “....You’ve been through a lot, Spongebob. No wonder you’re depressed…..” Plankton begins. “I wonder, if I wasn’t as evil as I am now, if we could’ve been friends. Or even more than friends. Lovers, perhaps.” His cheeks (what cheeks?) burn as he thinks how they could be in this lifetime. “Maybe in our next life, we can work something out. They say that when you die, you get reborn, right?” Spongebob stirs, and Plankton freezes. Did he hear everything? “I want you to know, no matter what happens tonight, I’ll be on your side.” He cuddles up next to Spongebob and drifts off to sleep.

neuroticboyfriend A lot of the time when professionals interact with psychotic people, they try to reduce our distress by getting us to stop believing things. For me, that only made things worse. It was confusing and distressing. I felt angry, scared, and misunderstood. The best way I've found to cope with delusional thinking is something I discovered on my own. I'll give an example here so, huge TW for unreality and paranoia. Scroll away if you're not able to hear delusional thinking. Yesterday I started freaking out thinking people could hear my thoughts. This is something I've occasionally experienced since I was a child. When this comes up, I always think there's some massive conspiracy, where everyone can hear my thoughts but they react to me as if they don't hear anything. And they're all in on it. This time, it was triggered by intrusive thoughts that I started judging myself for. As you can imagine, this is distressing. I started talking to people through my mind, which only made it worse. I couldn't focus on what was happening around me. What I did to reduce that distress is.. weirdly nonchalant. I just sat there and thought "Well, if this is true, it's not like they're going to change how they interact with me. Everything is the same as it was. Nothing I can do about it, might as well just keep on keeping on." That calmed me down enough to start focusing on what I was doing, and eventually completely forget about it until now. Whenever I try to treat my delusional thinking as something I have to stop immediately... it literally only makes my mind double down. But if I work within what I believe - what I "know" - I can find another way to look at it that isn't so scary. This works with my hallucinations, too. I sometimes see shadow people; they're more like jump scares than anything. They startle me, and I start to wonder if people I'm looking at are real. But that latter part only really happens if I get fearful of them. To avoid that fear, I try to think of the shadow people as just friends watching over me, checking in. They don't do anything, after all. They just pop up, stand there, and disappear. (Talk of unreality ends here) So, yeah. This doesn't work for everyone, and it doesn't always work for me depending on what I'm experiencing/how I'm feeling. But without this, I'd be far worse off; it doesn't take too many missteps for me to spiral. I guess my point is, my reality doesn't have to be "normal" for me to be healthy as a schizophrenic person. It just has to be something I can live with, as happily and safely as possible. And that's ok. Neurodivergent people are allowed to exist, and some people are helped best by finding ways for them to exist as they are without so much distress - rather than trying to eliminate troubling symptoms entirely.

ᵀᵒ ᴴᵉᵃˡˢ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵉᵗ ᵃ ˢʰᵃʳᵖ ᶜˡᵃᵐᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʳᵃᵖ ⁿᵉᵃʳ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᶠᵉ ʰᵒˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ʷᵉᵃᵏ ᶜʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵃⁿᵗᵉⁿⁿᵃᵉ ⁿᵉᵃʳˡʸ ᶜᵘᵗ ⁱⁿ ʰᵃˡᶠ⸴ ᵃˢᵏᵉʷ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶜᵃʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵃ ˡᵒᶜᵃˡ ᶜˡⁱⁿⁱᶜ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡⁱⁿⁱᶜⁱᵃⁿˢ ᵈᵉᵉᵐᵉᵈ ʰᵒʷ'ˢ ⁱⁿ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵛᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ "ᴷⁱᵈ ˢᵗᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ⸴ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵖˡᵉᵃᵈᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵗᵃʸ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ʷᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵃⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵉᵈᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ; ʷᵉ'ˡˡ ᶜᵃˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ʷᵉ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰ ᵘᵖ‧" ᵀʰᵉ ᶜˡⁱⁿⁱᶜⁱᵃⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ ᴾᵃⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱˢ ᵃⁿᵗᵉⁿⁿᵃᵉ ʳᵃᵈⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧ "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵃʳ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵃˡˡ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉ‧ ᴵ'ᵐ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇʸ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᵗ‧‧" ᔆᵃʸˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ˡᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵃ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ‧ 'ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵃ ʰᵉᶜᵗⁱᶜ ᵈᵃʸ‧‧' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵍʳⁱᵖ ᵉᵃˢᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉᵈˢ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖʸ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ "ᵂᵉˡˡ ᴹʳ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉˡʸ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ˢᵒ ʷᵉ'ˡˡ ˡᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵉⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉ ʷᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵘᵖ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡⁱⁿⁱᶜⁱᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ ʳⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵉⁿᵈ‧ 'ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ˢⁱᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿⁿᵒᵗ ᵈʳⁱᵛᵉ⸴ ˢᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵖⁱᶜᵏ ᵘᵖ ᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃᵗ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡⁱⁿⁱᶜ' ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶠᵒʳ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᶜˡⁱⁿⁱᶜⁱᵃⁿ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘʳᵍᵉʳʸ‧ "ᵂᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ⁿᵒʷ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵉᵗ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡ ᶜᵒⁿᶠᵘˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵇᵉʰᵃᵛⁱᵒᵘʳ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᵃᵉˢᵗʰᵉᵗⁱˢᵉᵈ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵉ‧" "ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏˢ‧‧" 'ᵂʰᵃᵗ⁻ ʷʰᵒ⁻ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃᵐ⁻' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ⸴ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᶜᵒʰᵉʳᵉⁿᵗ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧ "ᴸᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵉʸᵉ‧‧" ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ ⁿᵒʷ ˢᵃʷ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵃˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉˡⁱᵈ ᶠˡᵘᵗᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ˢˡᵒʷˡʸ‧ "ᵂʰᵉⁿ’ᵈ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᶠʳᵉᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ʰᵒᵐᵉ; ᵃˡˡ'ˢ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈⁱᵈ ˢᵒ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗ!" ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡⁱⁿⁱᶜⁱᵃⁿ‧ "ᴸᵒᵒᵏ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ; ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗⁱˡᵗᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵃ ˢᵉᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵘᵖʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵖᵒˢⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ "ᴵ ᵖʳᵒᵐⁱˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ'ˡˡ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ ⁱⁿ ⁿᵒ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵃˡˡ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ˢᵉᵃᵗ ᵃˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵈʳⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ "ᵂʰʸ ᵈᵒ ᴵ ᶠᵉᵉˡ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵃⁿᵗᵉⁿⁿᵃˢ ⁱⁿ ᶜᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠⁱˣᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵃⁿᵗᵉⁿⁿᵃ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵉᵃⁿᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉᵃᵛⁱˡʸ ᵈᵒᶻⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵗ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ ᵗʳᵒᵗᵗᵉᵈ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ‧ "ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˢᵉᵗᵗˡᵉᵈ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ⁿᵒʷ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢᵗᵃʸᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵒᵗ ʳⁱᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉᵛⁱᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒⁿˡʸ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ʳᵉᵍᵘˡᵃʳⁱᵗʸ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʰⁱˢ ᵃⁿᵗᵉⁿⁿᵃᵉ ʰᵉᵃˡᵉᵈ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ᵃˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ‧‧

people have accused you of lying about your trauma (including claims you’re exaggerating), and you think your trauma isn’t that bad: it is. it’s bad enough regardless of if people accused you of lying, but the reason i say this is to point out to you… if it wasn’t that bad, why would you be lying? what would there be to lie about if it was normal that that happened? people accused you of lying because they refused to accept or believe that something like that happened - happened to you.

neuroticboyfriend Hey, real quick, go bury your face in something soft. A stuffed animal. A plush blanket. A pillow. Your pet. Your favorite shirt or hoodie. Do it. Was it comforting, even in the slightest? If not, well, you tried. Either way, remember that the little things can bring you goodness, and all those little things will add up. They may not overshadow all the bad, but it certainly does help. You may never be truly comfortable, but odds are, there's something around you that can give you some comfort. And that's a lot better than nothing.

kelpforestdwellers caregivers of disabled people: of course you may find aspects of the job (i use the term broadly to include taking care of loved ones) difficult. that's understandable and you deserve support with that. but there's one person you shouldn't necessarily share that with, and that's the person you're assisting. if you're having difficulty with a task and need to discuss a different way to do it, for example, that's one thing. i'm talking about complaining about how hard something is when it can't be changed or you don't intend to change it, or even joking about how hard various tasks are. my aides sometimes joke about how difficult certain tasks are, and i totally understand where they're coming from and that they mean no harm. but it make me self conscious about asking them to do those tasks in future when i know they struggle with them. and believe me, it's already hard enough to ask for help. i'm not asking anything unreasonable or outside the bounds of the job so it just makes me feel bad needlessly.

ᵀʰᵉ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ⁱⁿ ᴸⁱᶠᵉ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢʰᵉ'ᵈ ⁱⁿᵛⁱᵗᵉᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵒˢᵗ ᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ ᵐᵉᵉᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵍᵃᵗʰᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ˡᵃᵈʸ ʳᵉᵘⁿⁱᵒⁿ ˡᵃˢᵗˢ ˢᵒ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ʷᵉʳᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʸᵃʳᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵍᵒᵗ ˡᵉᵐᵒⁿᵃᵈᵉ‧ "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ! ᵂᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᵇᵘʳᵍᵉʳ ᵖᵃᵗᵗⁱᵉˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧" ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵗᵒˡᵈ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵐʸ ʷⁱᶠᵉ'ˢ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˡᵃᵈⁱᵉˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ʳᵉᵘⁿⁱᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒ ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵈ ˡᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ˡᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ᵖⁱⁿᵉᵃᵖᵖˡᵉ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ‧ "ᔆᵒ ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵉᵉᵏᵉⁿᵈ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ʷʰᵒ ⁿᵒᵈᵈᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒ⸴ ˢᵒ ᵍˡᵃᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ!" ᴴᵉ ʳᵉᵖˡⁱᵉᵈ‧ ᴳᵃʳʸ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁿᵃⁱˡ ᵖᵉᵗ ᶜᵘʳˡᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᵘᵖ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᵈᵉˢ⸴ ᵒˡᵈ ᵖᵃˡ?" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵃˢ ᵍˡᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵃᵖᵖⁱˡʸ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵘⁿˡⁱᵏᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡ ᶠᵒʳᶜᵉᵈ ᶜᵃᶜᵏˡᵉˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵖˡᵃⁿˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸᵉᵈ ˡᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᶠᵘⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵗᵒ ᵃˡˡᵒʷ ⁱᵗ‧ "‧‧‧ʸᵉˢ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ʳᵃᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ᵈ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰᵉᵈ!" ᴮᵒᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵃᵗᵉ ᵈⁱⁿⁿᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒʷ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʷⁱⁿᵈ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ; ʷᵉ'ˡˡ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵒⁿ ᶜᵒᵘᶜʰ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵇⁱᵍ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱᵗ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᵘˢ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ "ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏˢ⸴ ᵏⁱᵈ‧‧" "ᴵ'ˡˡ ˢᵃʸ⸴ ˡᵉᵗ'ˢ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰ ᵖᵘᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᶠⁱˡᵐ ᵐᵒᵛⁱᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ!" ᴼⁿᶜᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʰᵒʷ ᵉⁿᵈˢ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵒᶠᶠ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡᵉᵃⁿˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵃᵇˡᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇʸ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶜᵘʳˡᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇˡᵃⁿᵏᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ‧ ᴵⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉᵃʳ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉˡᵉᵛⁱˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵛ ˢᵉᵗ ⁿᵒʳ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ ᴴᵉ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉᵈ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵗᵃᵖᵖᵉᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵒ ʰᵉ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵉ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᶠᵒʳ ⁿᵒʷ‧ "ᴴᵉʸ⸴ ᵏⁱᵈ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃʷᵒᵏᵉ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴴᵒʷ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵘᵖ?" "ᴺᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʷᵉˡˡ ʳᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉˢᵖᵒⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴵ ᵇᵉᵗ; ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ'ˢ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵛⁱᵉ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵃʸ ʷʰᵃᵗ‽ ᴵ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ⸴ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ⁱᶠ ʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵒᵍʳᵃᵐᵐᵉ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰ ⁱᵗ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵐⁱⁿᵈ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍᵒ ʳᵉʷⁱⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵃˢᵗ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵘʳᵉ ⁱᶠ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴵ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵒᶠᶠ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧‧" ᔆᵃⁱᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ᵃˡᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵃᵐᵘˢᵉᵈ⸴ ʸᵉᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʳᵉᵍʳᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ‧ ᴴᵉ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᵗᵒ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ʳᵉᵖˡʸ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ⁱⁿˢᵗᵉᵃᵈ ᵃᵛᵉʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵉʸᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃᶜᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰᵒʷ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉᵐ ᵒᵇˡⁱᵛⁱᵒᵘˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁱᵐᵐᵉᵈⁱᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ⸴ ᵉⁿˢᵘⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿ ᵃʷᵏʷᵃʳᵈ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ˢⁱˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵇᵉᵗʷᵉᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ "ᵂᵉˡˡ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵘᵖ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᵇʳᵘⁿᶜʰ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ'ᵐ ʰᵘⁿᵍʳʸ; ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᴵ ᵖⁱᶜᵏ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ ᵘᵖ ᶠᵒʳ ᵘˢ⸴ ˢᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵗᵃʸ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒᵈᵈᵉᵈ ᵃᶜᵏⁿᵒʷˡᵉᵈᵍⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ‧ 'ᴵⁿ ʰⁱⁿᵈˢⁱᵍʰᵗ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ' ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ‧ ᴴᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ 'ᵉᵐ ᵃⁿ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡ ᵏʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵃʳᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ⸴ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷˡᵉᵈᵍᵉ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉⁿᶜʸ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵐᵃᵈ‧ 'ᴶᵘˢᵗ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᶜᵃʳᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃʷᵏʷᵃʳᵈˡʸ ᵐᵃⁿⁿᵉʳ' ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʷᵃⁱᵗᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵈ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᶠᵘⁿ ᵃˢ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳᵈᵃʸ! ᴺᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒⁿ ʰᵒʷ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ⁱⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ‧‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸˢ⸴ ᶜᵃʳʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃᵍ‧ "ᴳᵘᵉˢˢ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ‧‧‧" "ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵘᵖ⸴ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ˢᵒ⸴ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ˢᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ᵃᵖᵒˡᵒᵍʸ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ; ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ⁱᶠ ᴵ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵒʳᵈᵉᵈ⸴ ʷᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵒʳ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʰᵉʸ! ᵂʰʸ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵖᵒˡᵒᵍⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ? ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵐʸ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ⸴ ⁱᶠ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵒˡ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ᵃˢ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏᵉᵉⁿ ᵒⁿ ˢᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ᶜᵃⁿ ˡᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉ ᶜᵒⁿˢⁱᵈᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵐʸ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ ˢᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍˡᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵐᵉᵃˡ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵘˢ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵃʳᵉ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉᵈ⸴ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᵈ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᴵ ʳⁱˢᵏ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᶠⁱʳᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᶠ ˢᵒ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᶠᵒʳ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ!"

Please use discretion and don’t do something that will trigger you further, including triggering trauma or sensory issues! Aggressive activities (Adrenaline-focused): Do not use sharp objects if you can’t trust yourself around them in that moment. Tear apart paper or napkins Cut up boxes, plastic, or paper Stab boxes or foam Angrily scribble Throw rocks at the ground Scream into a pillow, or punch it Passive activities (Adrenaline-focused): Watch something scary (scary game, thriller movie) Watch someone get angry (Youtube react videos, gamer rage) Watch an action movie Watch a fails video compilation Sensory grounding Hold an ice cube or splash cold water on your face - take a cold shower if you’re really feeling it Smell a strong scent, even an unpleasant one Have a nice warm or cool drink Any kind of strong pressure that won’t injure (weighted blanket, cuddle with your dog) Listen to music or white noise Use a heating pad or take a warm shower/bath Creative outlets: (if you need the similarity, use red ink) Draw on yourself or body paint Do SFX makeup Finger paint Journal about your feelings honestly, even if they’re negative Make a moodboard

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 3 days ago CBenson1273 My Daughter Keeps Dying Over And Over Again One day I was out watching my daughter ride her bike. I took my eyes off her for just a second and heard a loud horn - when I looked up, a car was speeding away and her broken body was laying in the street. I must have called the police and my wife, but all I remember is sitting there, holding Maddie’s lifeless body. I vaguely recall a kind woman stopping, taking her hand, and saying “this is not the end” before walking away. Then Maddie’s hand moved. Her eyes opened and looked at me. “Daddy? What happened?” The paramedics’ insisted that her injuries must not have been that severe; I’d just panicked and assumed the worst. But I’d seen her, held her. She was dead. Maddie’s mother tried to use the accident to revisit custody, but her claim went nowhere. Life went on. The next week, I was caught in a traffic jam. Turns out a car had fatallƴ hit a phone pole. The same car that hït Maddie. A few months later, Maddie’s school called. She’d fallen off the jungle gym and landed head-first. When I arrived, the principal was waiting. She apologized, insisting it was an accident. Maddie died at the hospital; the doctors said there was nothing they could have done. Her mother said I’d be hearing from her lawyer. Later, as I sat with her, she twitched. Then she started breathing and reached for me. The doctors were stunned. I wasn’t. The following week, the news reported a student from Maddie’s school had fallen from the fourth floor of his apartment building. The same student who’d pushed Maddie from the jungle gym, despite what the principal had insisted. That evening, Maddie asked me if “the angel” had done it. She spoke of a figure that had approached her after her accident. It had said “not yet” and touched her head and she’d awoken. Touched. The woman who’d taken her hand at her accident. That had to be it. I tracked her to the outskirts of town and demanded to know what she’d done. She revealed that, sensing my grief, she’d placed a spell that would bring my daughter back. But the cost was the life of whoever kılled her. A life for a life. Horrified, I left. What did this mean? Would Maddie return every time she died? Slowly, things returned to normal. There were no more “incidents”; I didn’t see the old woman again. One night, the phone rang; it was my ex-wife. Surprising since we didn’t speak except regarding Maddie. “Jack! It’s Maddie! She’s not breathıng!” “WHAT I’m on my way!” Everything was so hectic that she didn’t notice how quickly I arrived at the hospital. Or that I wasn’t more distraught. Or that Maddie was already dead. If only she’d known about Maddie’s recently-revealed peanut allergy before she’d served those cookies. I wasn’t worried - I knew Maddie would be fine.. Yet Carol wouldn’t be so lucky.

r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago RVKony Join The Blind Child "Stãbbing." Sylvia pointed a trembling finger at my brother Arthur. Her milky, unseeing eyes gleamed in his direction, and his wife, Agnes, trembled with indignation from across the table. My husband's face colored as he dropped his fork and dragged our daughter back into her bedroom, scolding her as they went. The rest of the night was awkward, and the pep in our conversation never recovered. Two weeks later, Agnes was st*bbed to dEath in her office parking lot. An college student found her, and called the cops. My brother swore that he bore no ill will against my daughter, but I could tell that he was lying. One day, the middle-aged woman who taught my daughter how to read her braille called me. "Ma'am, I don't know what's going on but your daughter's been whispering, 'electrocution, electrocution,' for the past half-hour and it's starting to distract her from her lessons. Could you please talk to her?" I did. Sylvia, in her nine-year-old lack of understanding, told me it was "just a cool new word" she learnt at school. The dEath of an electrician made headlines the following week. It was a freak accident involving tangled wires and a bucket of water. Sylvia's teacher's face was blurred for privacy, but her voice was as familiar as anything to me: "He was…my partner…my soulmate." While my husband was working late, I called Sylvia into the living room. "Honey, is there anything Mommy should know?" She hesitated. "Honey, you know you can talk to me." She denied it once more, "I have no secrets from you, Mommy." My husband walked into the living room with his hair tousled and his eyes distant. Instead of rushing to hug her dad, Sylvia simply turned towards him. "Fire," she said. My heart stopped. Everytime Sylvia said something like that, it was the person's partner who d1ed, and of that reason too. A fire? Was Sylvia merely making predictions, or was she cûrsêd on me for snooping in on her business? Why, this dēvıl child— I grew paranoid, checked the appliances and electronics constantly, and cleared the house of any fire hazards. That was my lįfe over the next few days. All the while, I kept my eyes on Sylvia. Sylvia. I had grown almost hateful towards my own daughter. My husband came home one night, wounded and blackened with soot, while I sat in the living room and Sylvia listened to the radio beside me. "What's the matter?" I asked. He gulped. "One of my colleagues, her house…her house caught fire. She was trapped in, but I managed to escape." That turned the gears in my head. "What were you doing in her house?" The expression on my husband's face was a sufficient admission of guilt. I opened my mouth to speak—no, to scream—but a smaller voice from beside me looked at me and whispered: "Poisoning."

ᴍʏ ᴍᴜᴍ (𝟾𝟸ғ) ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴇ (𝟷𝟸ᴍ) ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪsʜᴇs (𝟷𝟼) ʙᴜᴛ ɪ (𝟷𝟸ᴍ) ᴡᴀs ᴛᴏᴏ ʙᴜsʏ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ғᴏʀᴛɴɪᴛᴇ (𝟹 ᴋɪʟʟs) sᴏ ɪ (𝟷𝟸ᴍ) ɢʀᴀʙʙᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟʟᴇʀ (ᴅᴜᴀʟsʜᴏᴄᴋ 𝟺) ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜʀᴇᴡ ɪᴛ ᴀᴛ ʜᴇʀ (𝟷𝟹𝟾ᴋᴘʜ). sʜᴇ ʜᴇᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴅɪᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ (𝟷𝟸ᴍ) ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀɪsᴏɴ (𝟷𝟾 ʏᴇᴀʀs). ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ɪɴ ᴘʀɪsᴏɴ ɪ (𝟷𝟸ᴍ) ɪɴᴄɪᴛᴇᴅ sᴇᴠᴇʀᴀʟ ʀɪᴏᴛs (𝟹) ᴀɴᴅ ᴀssᴜᴍᴇᴅ ʟᴇᴀᴅᴇʀsʜɪᴘ ᴏғ ᴀ ɢᴀɴɢ ʀᴇsᴘᴏɴsɪʙʟᴇ ғᴏʀ sᴍᴜɢɢʟɪɴɢ ᴅʀᴜɢs (ᴄᴏᴄᴀɪɴᴇ) ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛʀʏ. ɪ (𝟷𝟸ᴍ) ᴀʟsᴏ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀssᴀssɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ sᴇᴠᴇʀᴀʟ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀɪᴛɪᴇs (ᴍɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟ ᴊᴀᴄᴋsᴏɴ, ᴇʟᴠɪs ᴘʀᴇsʟᴇʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴇғғʀᴇʏ ᴇᴘsᴛᴇɪɴ) ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴛᴇʀʀᴏʀɪsᴛ ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋ (𝟿/𝟷𝟷). ʀᴇᴅᴅɪᴛ, ᴀɪᴛᴀ?

There's No Reason to Be Afraid By Reddit user by whoeverfightsmonster ~ When my sister Betsy and I were kids, our family lived for awhile in a charming old farmhouse. We loved exploring its dusty corners and climbing the apple tree in the backyard. But our favorite thing was the ghost. We called her Mother, because she seemed so kind and nurturing. Some mornings Betsy and I would wake up, and on each of our nightstands, we'd find a cup that hadn't been there the night before. Mother had left them there, worried that we'd get thirsty during the night. She just wanted to take care of us. Among the house's original furnishings was an antique wooden chair, which we kept against the back wall of the living room. Whenever we were preoccupied, watching TV or playing a game, Mother would inch that chair forward, across the room, toward us. Sometimes she'd manage to move it all the way to the center of the room. We always felt sad putting it back against the wall. Mother just wanted to be near us. Years later, long after we'd moved out, I found an old newspaper article about the farmhouse's original occupant, a widow. She'd murdered her two children by giving them each a cup of poisoned milk before bed. Then she'd hanged herself. The article included a photo of the farmhouse's living room, with a woman's body hanging from a beam. Beneath her, knocked over, was that old wooden chair, placed exactly in the center of the room.

Alphonse "At my parents house, my nephew told my Mom, 'When I lived here before, my name was Alphonse, and I was bigger than you.' My stepdad just kind of blinked and said, 'Hmm, that was my grandfather's name, but we don't talk about him.'"

r/shortscarystories 24 days ago GuyAwks Forget Me Anniversary Not What kind of husband goes and forgets an anniversary? And not just any anniversary. Our 10 year anniversary. I didn’t want to have to remind Stephen about it. I wanted him to remember it on his own, to show me he cared about our partnership. But lo and behold, come morning when I kíss him goodbye for work and asked if he’d planned anything for today—he hadn’t. He just read his newspaper like it was any other day, with no hint of reaction. Watching him drive off with no acknowledgement of today’s occasion, I felt so disappointed. I even pulled out my phone to call up our marriage counselor, Dr Faulkner, to talk through my feelings and book an appointment for us. But, just my luck, he wasn’t picking up. So instead, I swallow my discontent and got our two kids ready for school. All throughout doing my daily household chores, I held out hope that Stephen might ring me to wish me, or have a bouquet delivered, or even pop home to whisk me off for a fancy lunch. Anything to show he’d suddenly remembered our special day was a decade ago. But the significance of March 2nd clearly meant nothing to him, as no such gesture came. By the time Stephen got home from the office late in the evening, I couldn’t hide my annoyance anymore. Not wanting to even be arоund him, I stormed out to my car in the garage to drive off and get some space. That’s when I heard the muffled sound coming from the trunk. Curious, I cranked open the boot to see…Dr Faulker—bound, gagged and terrıfıed. “Happy anniversary, honey” purred Stephen’s voıce from behind me. I whirled around, my heart aflutter and a wıde, joyful smıle on my face. “Oh Stephen, you did remember! And with a personal touch, you shouldn’t have.” Swooning, I ripped the gag off our helpless victim. “Stephen, Janice…p-please let me go!” Dr Faulkner gasped in sweaty confusion. “What are you doing?!” “He’s been in there since yesterday,” Stephen informed me. “I knew you’d find your anniversary gift eventually.” “Anniversary?!” yelped Dr Faulkner. “I-isn’t your wedding anniversary in November!?” To this we just laughed, plunging our kn1ves into him repeatedly—like we had with so many ınnocent before. What better way to celebrate the anniversary of the first time we mvrdered someone?

A Curious Warning • March 6 2015 • RusticEyesore Last night, as I was sitting in my living room and watching a little TV before bed, I heard a strange noise. It was a slow, drawn out scraping across the hardwood floor. Confused, I searched for the source of the sound; and I found it immediately. Someone had a slipped a small, folded note under the door. "What the..?" More curious than anything, I approached the note slowly. I knelt down cautiously and picked up the strange paper. On it were only five words, scrawled on in a crude, messy fashion: "Get out. He is coming." I didn't pause to consider the meaning of the note, however, as I immediately realized there was something very, very wrong with this situation: The note had come from under the closet door.

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago Perfect__Nightmare They all laughed at me I suppose you could say I was bullied. It would start with some simple na͠me calling. The second they started in on me I could feel b!ood rushing to my fac͘e. It made them more relentless. I tried to avoid them, but they always found me. They pitch me, kick me, bug me. The paın was made so much worse because this sort of ab3se should never been from famıly. And my parents did nothing. They all hate. I did me too. I wasn't as sm͢art, or as talented as my siblings. I had nothıng to offer my famıly. I wanted to earn their lòvè, but all of my attempts just drove them further away. I had almost given up h̴ope. And then the day came. I had just encountered my nightly bearing. I lifted myself off the floor, slowly, but my oldest brother lıcked me again. I hit the floor once more. I listened to them laugh as I drag myself over the cøld ground and into the darkness. When I was far enough away to just barely hear their laughter, I let myself collapse onto the snow. I cried for a very long time. All wanted now to dıe. I awoke some time later to my father's voice. "Son, wake up. I need your help." My father needed me. This was my chance to make him proud. Before I knew it, it was time. My father told me exactly what to do. I wasn't sure I could do it, but he reassured me. "I believe in you." No one had ever said that to me before. My face grew hot again, but I did as my father said. This time no one laughed. But it didn't matter. I heard the laughing in my head. I felt the attacks‎ all over again. I remembered the bloodƴ těars, the paın caused by my siblings. I remembered my father doing nothıng. My despair turned to anger, and my anger turned to hate. And in that moment, I realized the one quality in myself that might be considered admirable. I was brave. I whispered it to myself over and over. I said it until I started to make myself believe it. And then, I looked toward the ground beneath me. With my siblings on my heels and my father trailing behind, I led them down. My face grew hot, hotter than ever. "Rudolph, what are you doing?!" I could feel my father pulling on the reins, but I was determined. I was brave. I kept going down until I met the concrete. My eight siblings followed. And then my father. Here's the thing about magic... It wasn't enough to save us that night. But it tried. It made their dEAth slow and agonizing. But me? I smiled and I felt my face grow hotter and hotter. I knew my nose was shining brighter than ever before. And no one was laughing.

Go to tinyhorribles r/tinyhorribles 5 days ago therealdocturner Silence Is Violence The alley is dark. I see my breath in the frigid air. My hands are outstretched and my fingers can reach the wall on either side. It’s narrow. The walls are wet and slicked with some kind of slime. Children are screaming somewhere in the dark. The only light is a faint glow from the bricks of the alley as I walk past them. The screams are behind me and they’re getting closer. Footsteps. Like a thousand people running behind me, getting closer and closer. My chest hurt̸ and I fałł over. The alley is go̕ne. Everything is light now. Too bright to see anything. I hear people yelling. I smell soap. I fall back into the darkness of the alley. I run and I can feel my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. The screaming children behind me say my name. The walls move further apart as I run forward and their soft glow is only in my peripheral now, as it's devoured by the darkness. It’s getting colder. I run into the dark̵. God, help me. There are lights in front of me. I move forward. I recognize the main street of the town where I grew up. Everything is just as it was from my childhood, save for bødies of children hanging from every lamp post. They’ve been gutted. Their insides pile up underneath the swaying corpses. Roman Numerals are carved into their foreheads. My chest exploded in paın. My hometown is go̶ne. Light and pain are all that remain. Frantic voices. My chest is on fire. My shirt is open. I fall back onto Blackstone Avenue. The buildings are on fire. Children with accusatory eyes surround me on the street. They’re pointing, at me. The Roman numerals are raised and bleeding. Ligature marks are on every neck, and all of them begin to walk toward me. Their backbones are visible through the gaping holes in their abdominals. My chest is in agøny. Just before they grab me, I’m back in that blinding light. Convulsıons and I feel my own spit running down my neck. POP POP POP Three hard knocks against my chest and my eyes begin to slightly focus. I’m in a hospıtals room. D͜oçtor̡ holds a pair of panels just above me, and I can hear my own heartbeat on a machine. Two days later. My wife of fifty one years stands above my hospıtal bed, crying and thankful I pulled through. She stays until I make her go home. My son comes and sees me afterwards, and I tell him about all the children that I saw. I tell him that I’ve always known what he did to them, but I kept my mouth shut so it wouldn’t destroy his mother. I tell him I can’t do it anymore. I rısk condemnation with my silence. He’s got to turn himself in. He tells me he loves me, as he pushes a pi]low over my fac͘e.

C̹ͬ̂̒̽̉o͛ͥͤ͐͒ͮ͏̗̳͖͍m̷ͣ͊ͫe̥͙͍͑̇͑,̧̣̼͙̭ͩ ͈̬̫̜̞̝͑͌̑A̹ͨͮͨͬ̆̾è̘͚͕̱̯b̖͔̠̦̈o̗͎̱͕̰͔ͧ̿̉̑ͣ́̕ͅṅ͎̠͔̩̯͈ͩa͙̯͉͔͍̗ͬ̒͊͌̽̊̚ȁ͒ͦͨ͋̚͏̹͉͚s͆͊ͬh,͍̲̙͓͕̯̈́́͑͊ͬ́ ͗ͫ̎ͨ͋ͯ͆͘l͉̰̻͎͔͎ͅẹ͎̬̞̣͖͊̂͗͋ẗ͉͉̲̬̫̙̼̍ͯ̀ ̖̜͎̞̮̰̄̎̾̓͢u̯̯̠̬̐̌̍͢s҉̱̖̤̠ ̎̈́ͤ̊̌҉s̭̣̮̼̖̽ͭͤ͐ͯ͟é̥͖͓̄̔͆̎̀ͅe̺̫̗͕̩͋̊͗͢ ͖̐͛͋̓ͬ̅̇í̷̯̤̲̠͙̖̣̂̃̈̌͗ḟ̈ ͯ́y̷̭̬͖̠̪͓͖̎̔ͮǫ̙̟̦͍̀u̴̬͍̙̘͋̓̔͛̇͑ ̙̌̀̋́aͩ̿̂ṟͣͮe̖ͧ̈́͌̊̋ͧͧ̕ ̟̲̳͚̗̉ͩ͒ͬͪͬ͋a̗͇͓͖̟͉͗ͭ͐ͣ̏̐ͪs̘̞̐̇ ̫̯̠̈́̋͐̉ͦ͛͢p͍̤̬͉͍͖ȓ͙͎ͅë̠̩̮́̇ṱ̫͇̩͖̗̻ṭ̨͔ͩy̅̾̏͂ͭ͆ͩ ̺͕̈́̐ͫͧ̆ï̳͕̯̥̝̹̺͒n̢̤͚̲̩̑ͨ͆ṣ͖͕ͩ̔̋ͨ̉ͯ̐i̝̫d̖ͮ̃ͯ̈ė̶̻̲̤͇̼͖͋̑͆ͅ~̦̘̤̺̮̱̍̾ͥ̅̚~̡ͮ

r/shortscarystories 4 days ago TheMysticPrincess I should've listened to the person at the funeral.... My grandma loved crafts; knitting, stitching, sewing, embroidery, if it involved yarn or thread, it was something she loved, and I loved watching it. Whenever I went to her house, I'd spend hours watching her craft while she told me stories. One of her favorite things to craft were dolls, specifically felt dolls with button eyes. They were all different in sizes, shapes, colors, clothing, but the one thing they had in common was that they always had an image embroidered in them over the heart; the images varied from cars to bottles to apples and many of them she made of people she knew. They were also her favorite things to give to people. As she got older, her hands never seemed to get tıred or ache, which I thought was kind of weırd. She told me it was because of all her crafting that her hands were so strong. I was just a kid, so I believed her. I mean there wasn't any other explanation, right? I also began to notice whenever grandma gave someone a doll, they'd have this look of....panic in their eyes. I never asked why. I didn't think it was any of my business. The inevitable day came and we had to bury her. There weren't a lot of people at the funerαl, which was odd; grandma knew and befriended a lot of people during her life, surely they wouldn't miss this for the world. I decided to talk to one of the few who did show up; I mentioned it and they replied "....I'm guessing no one ever told you." They explained that each time she'd sew a lookalike and give it to someone, they'd die the next day. A gîrl who had tried to seduce grandpa got one with the patch of a car; she ended up getting into a car crash and didn't make it. Someone who had called her a pig and tried to stuff an apple in her mouth got one with an apple; a piece of one got lodged in their trachea and they couldn't get it out in time. Her best friend who was moving away got a glass of filtered water; the autopsy showed cyanide in her b!ood. They told me more of these, but I brushed them off as coincidences; there's no way a doll could ķíľľ people. Even if it was true, it'd be over nơw. Years later my mother diεd in her sleep, leaving me alonȩ with the house. After the funerαl, I was cleaning up her things when I found something in the bed that made my b!ood run cøld; a lookalike doll with 3 Zs as a patch over the heart. Which leads me to now; yesterday I found a doll outside my door and it looks like me. Over the heart is a patch of a kn*fe. I mean, it's weird, but I don't think it's anything to woŗry̕ ....Why did I just hear the front door open?

r/shortscarystories 1 mo. ago Haunting-Buyer8532 All of our children keep dy1ng. This all started when our first child, Amy, was born. She would alwaყs wind up in these horrible accidents. She almost got too close to a table saw, Almost cvt her when I was chopping vegetables, And other things like that. She d1ed when she was barely a year old. Ended up bre4king her neck after fąlling on her fac͘e in the crib. Years after her d3ath, we started over with Elise, our second child. She barely made it to six months before she d1ed. Apparently, she somehow managed to get on the roof of the h̴ouse. Have you ever seen how a baby ruptures when it falls from two stories? I tried convincing my wife over and over again not to try again. She still got us a new baby, she just adopted it instead of the “natural way”. I barely come near my own child. I know now that we have some curse kılling our babies, and it wont st̸op just because we adopted the next one. My wife is so worried about our new baby girl, I don't want to tell her… I don't want to tell her the times she goes glassy-eyed. I don't want to tell her how she sometimes holds the kn1fe near our children. I don't want to tell her how I had to drop Elise’s corpse from the roof to make it look like an accıdent. Besides, everyday I have to fíght off the increasing urge to crush my two-month-old daughter. Just like I did with Amy and Elise.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 6 days ago Old_Lady_In_Titanic Everyone else was distracted by the huge iceberg that glided within inches of the ship. Only I saw the giant metallic sea-bear gash a hole in the hull beneath the waterline with it's razor sharp knife-like claws.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 1 hr. ago jesth857 I Watched As My Son Slowly Turned Blue After Tasting My Food From DoorDash Will they ever stop trying to poison me?

ᴮᴵᴿᵀᴴᴰᴬʸ ᶜᴬᴺᴰᴸᴱᔆ ᵇʸ ʳᵉᵈᵈⁱᵗ ᵘˢᵉʳ ᶻᵉⁿʳʸʰᵃᵒ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃʳᵈᵉˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇˡᵒʷ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱᶠᵗᵉᵉⁿ ᶠˡⁱᶜᵏᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵃⁿᵈˡᵉˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ʰᵘᶠᶠᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵘᶠᶠᵉᵈ‧‧‧ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒ ᵃᵛᵃⁱˡ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵍˡᵃⁿᶜᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵈ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵗ ʰᵒᵘʳˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ᶜᵃᵏᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉʳ ᵉˣᵖʳᵉˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵘⁿᵇᵉᵃʳᵃᵇˡʸ ᵍᵘⁱˡᵗʸ‧ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ'ˢ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ˢᵗᵃʳᵉᵈ ˢᵃᵈˡʸ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵘⁿʸⁱᵉˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᶠˡᵃᵐᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᶠᵃˡᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ'ˢ ᶠᵉᵉᵇˡᵉ ᵃᵗᵗᵉᵐᵖᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵇˡⁱⁿᵏᵉᵈ ᵃ ᶠᵉʷ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ʰᵉʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ‧ ᵂʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ "ᴴᵃᵖᵖʸ ᴮⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ⸴" ˢʰᵉ ᵇˡᵉʷ ᵃ ᵍᵘˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ʷⁱⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃⁿᶜⁱⁿᵍ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗˢ ᵈⁱˢˢⁱᵖᵃᵗᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵘᶠᶠˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵐᵒᵏᵉ‧ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ ʷʰʸ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ‧ ᴵᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ʸᵉᵃʳ; ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵇᵃᵏᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵉᶜᵗ ᶜᵃᵏᵉ⸴ ʰᵉ ᶠᵃⁱˡᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇˡᵒʷ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿᵈˡᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵉ ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉᵈ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵘᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵃⁿᵈˡᵉˢ‧ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ʰᵘᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ‧‧‧ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒ ᵃᵛᵃⁱˡ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵐᵉʳᵉˡʸ ᵈʳⁱᶠᵗᵉᵈ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉʳ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵉⁱᵗʰᵉʳ‧

Tʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-Tʀᴇᴀᴛ /sʜᴏʀᴛsᴄᴀʀʏsᴛᴏʀɪᴇs GᴜʏAᴡᴋs Tʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-Tʀᴇᴀᴛ “Is ᴛʜɪs ʏᴏᴜʀ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ, Jᴀɴᴇᴛ? Yᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴏɴ Eᴅᴅʏ ᴀʀᴇ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ!” Mʏ ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏᴜʀ Yᴠᴇᴛᴛᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴍs ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴀᴅᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪɴɪsʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʙᴡᴇʙs ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴍɪɴɪᴠᴀɴ’s ᴅɪsᴘʟᴀʏ. Aʟʟ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴛ ɪs ᴀ sᴇᴀ ᴏғ sɪᴍɪʟᴀʀ Hᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴅᴇᴄᴏʀ ɪɴ ᴄᴀʀ ʙᴏᴏᴛs, ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴀs ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟᴇᴅ ᴀs ʜᴇʀs. “Yᴇs” I ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ, ᴀᴅᴊᴜsᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʜᴏsᴛ ᴅɪsᴘʟᴀʏ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄᴀʀ ᴛʀᴜɴᴋ. “Mʏ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄɪᴛʏ.” “Oʜ ɪᴛ’s sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇɴɪᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʀɪᴄᴋ-ᴏʀ-ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ. Iɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴋɪᴅs ᴅᴏᴏʀ-ᴛᴏ-ᴅᴏᴏʀ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ, ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴀʀs ɪɴ ᴀ ʟᴏᴄᴀʟ ᴄʜᴜʀᴄʜ ᴘᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛʀᴜɴᴋs. Lɪғᴇ’s ᴀʟʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀᴅᴀᴘᴛɪɴɢ.” Eᴅᴅʏ ʙᴏʙs ɪɴ ᴇxᴄɪᴛᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴏsᴛᴜᴍᴇ. Eᴀɢᴇʀ, ʜᴇ sᴇᴛs ᴏғғ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅs ᴛʜᴇ sᴘᴏᴏᴋɪʟʏ ᴅᴇᴄᴏʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍɪɴɪᴠᴀɴs ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪᴅs ʟɪɴɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ғᴏʀ ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ. “Tʜɪs ᴅᴏᴇs sᴇᴇᴍ ғᴜɴ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪᴅs, Yᴠᴇᴛᴛᴇ” I ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍʏ ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏᴜʀ ᴡʜɪʟsᴛ sʜᴇ ᴘᴀssᴇs ᴏᴜᴛ ᴄʜᴏᴄᴏʟᴀᴛᴇs. “Bᴜᴛ ʜᴏᴡ sᴀғᴇ ɪs ᴛʜɪs? Wɪᴛʜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀs’ ᴄᴀʀs…” “Hᴏɴᴇʏ, ᴛʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ɪs ᴍᴜᴄʜ sᴀғᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʀɪᴄᴋ-ᴏʀ- ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ!” sʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀssᴜʀᴇs ᴍᴇ. Sᴜᴅᴅᴇɴʟʏ, I ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴇ sᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴀ ᴄᴀʀ ʙᴏᴏᴛ sʟᴀᴍᴍɪɴɢ sʜᴜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴ ᴇɴɢɪɴᴇ ʀᴏᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʟɪғᴇ. Tʜᴇ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ SUV ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴛ ɪᴍᴍᴇᴅɪᴀᴛᴇʟʏ ʙᴇɢɪɴs ʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʏ. Eᴅᴅʏ ɪs ɴᴏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sᴇᴇɴ. “Hᴇʏ!” I sᴄʀᴇᴀᴍ. Eᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ sᴘɪɴs ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ I’ᴍ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ SUV ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛɪɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪɴᴅᴏᴡs ᴇʀʀᴀᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ. Wɪᴛʜ ᴀ sᴄʀᴇᴇᴄʜ ɪᴛ ɢᴏᴇs ᴛᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴜs. Aᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ, ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛs ʙᴇɢɪɴ sʜᴏᴜᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɢɪᴠɪɴɢ ᴄʜᴀsᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍʏsᴛᴇʀɪᴏᴜs ᴠᴀɴ ᴀs ɪᴛ ғʟᴇᴇs, ᴀʟʟ ᴡʜɪʟsᴛ ғʀᴀɴᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ ᴀʀᴇ sᴀғᴇ. “Is ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴍɪssɪɴɢ?!” Aᴍɪᴅsᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɴɪᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴄʜᴀᴏs, I ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ Eᴅᴅʏ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. I ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ɪɴ ʀᴇʟɪᴇғ ᴀɴᴅ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴀ ʙɪɢ ʜᴜɢ. “Aʟʟ ᴅᴏɴᴇ—ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴛʜɪɴɢ” ʜᴇ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ғɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜʟʏ. I sᴍɪʟᴇ ᴀ ғɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜ sᴍɪʟᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ. Tʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴠᴀɴ, ᴅʀɪᴠᴇɴ ʙʏ ᴍʏ ʜᴜsʙᴀɴᴅ, ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ ᴅɪsᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. Iᴛ ʟᴇғᴛ ᴍʏ sᴏɴ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴀᴡʟ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʀs ᴘᴀʀᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙʀᴀᴋᴇ ʟɪɴᴇs. Tᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ʜᴇʟᴘʟᴇss ғᴀᴍɪʟɪᴇs ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʟʟ ғɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍsᴇʟᴠᴇs sᴍᴀsʜɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʀᴇᴇs ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ᴅɪɢɢɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ sᴡᴇᴇᴛs.

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