Holidays/Celebrations Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste Holidays/Celebrations Emojis & Symbols

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?
ᴴᵃᵖᵖʸ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ! ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᔆᵉᵉᵐˢ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ˢᵏⁱᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵈᵘᵉ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵒⁿˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˡʸ ᵖˡᵒᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ ⁱᵐᵃᵍᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵇᵃᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵉˣᶜⁱᵗᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵃᵘᵍʰᵗʸ ˡⁱˢᵗ! 'ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ᵍⁱᶠᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ' ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ'ˢ ʳᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉᵈ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵒ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˢⁿᵉᵃᵏˢ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᴴᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵃⁱⁿ ᵉᵃʳˡⁱᵉʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁿᵉᵉᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒᵒˡˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵃᵇᵒʳᵃᵗᵒʳʸ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ⸴ ˢᵒ ʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵗᵒᵒˡ ᵇᵒˣ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ʷᵃᵍᵍᵒⁿ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ʷʳᵃᵖᵖⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵒˡ ᵇᵒˣ ʰᵉ ʷʳᵃᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃᵍᵍᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˢⁱᵍʰˢ⸴ ᵗⁱˡᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ʷᵃᵍᵍᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᴴᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢˡⁱᵈᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ᵗʳᵉᵉ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵇᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ʷᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘᵖ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵍⁱᶠᵗ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃᵍᵍᵒⁿ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵗʰᵘᵈ ⁿᵒⁱˢᵉ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʰᵉˢⁱᵗᵃᵗᵉᵈ⸴ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ⁿᵒʷ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧ "‧‧‧ʸ’ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖᵗᵃˡᵏˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʳᵒˡˡˢ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˢ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˢⁱᵍʰᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ʳᵉˡⁱᵉᶠ⸴ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃᵍᵍᵒⁿ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ᵖʳᵉˢᵉⁿᵗ‧ "ᴶᵘˢᵗ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ!" ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʷᵃᵍˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵃⁱˡ‧ ╰ ✧ ・゚∙ ∗ — ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⟨ 2 1 6
"Come on, it'll be fun," Enid begged, her eyes wide with excitement. Wednesday sat quietly in the corner of the room, her black dress blending into the shadows. She didn't look up from her book, her finger marking her place. "I don't think so," she said, her voice calm and measured. Enid pouted, her cheerleader's spirit momentarily dampened. "But it's the prom dance, Wednesday. Everyone's going to be there!" Wednesday closed her book with a soft thud and looked up, her gaze piercing through Enid's hopeful facade. "I see your enthusiasm, but crowded social gatherings are not my idea of fun." Enid sighed, understanding that pushing the issue would lead nowhere. She sat down next to her friend, her own excitement dimming. "I know, I know. But it's our senior year. It's like, a rite of passage or something." Wednesday's eyes remained on the closed book in her lap. "I'd prefer to pass on that particular rite." Enid leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "But it's the perfect place to observe human behavior. Think of it as an anthropological study." Wednesday's eyes lit up slightly at the thought. "I suppose you have a point," she conceded. "But I'll need to establish some ground rules." Enid clapped her hands together. "Of course! What do you need?" Wednesday thought for a moment before listing her conditions. "First, no slow dancing. Second, I control the music playlist. Third, I wear what I want." Enid nodded eagerly. "Deal! I'll handle the first two. And as for the third, I trust your impeccable taste." Wednesday raised an eyebrow. "My taste is not up for debate, nor is it the issue. It's the school's dress code that requires negotiation." Enid's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Leave that to me," she said, already texting away on her phone. Within minutes, she had secured a meeting with the principal to discuss "alternative fashion choices" for the prom. As the big night approached, Enid sent Wednesday a playlist of dark, rhythmic tunes that she had carefully curated. Each song was a masterpiece of gothic rock, a genre that she knew would resonate with her friend's soul. Meanwhile, Wednesday had been busy designing the perfect dress —a long, flowing gown of midnight black with intricate white lace that looked like it had been plucked from a Victorian mourning ceremony. She had paired it with her favorite black boots and a choker necklace adorned with a single crimson rose. The day of the prom, Enid couldn't contain her excitement. She bustled into the room, her own outfit a vibrant mix of neon colors that seemed to glow in the dim light of the Addams' mansion. "Wednesday, you have to come see this!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying the urgency of a child who had just discovered a secret treasure. Wednesday set down her scalpel, which she had been using to dissect a particularly interesting spider, and followed Enid upstairs. The dress laid out on her bed was indeed a sight to behold. It was a macabre symphony of black taffeta and delicate lace, the skirt adorned with a pattern of thorny vines that looked like they could draw blood with a single brush. The bodice hugged her slender frame, the neckline plunging just low enough to hint at the darkness beneath. "It's... " she began, searching for the right word. "Awful," Enid offered, her tone teasing. Wednesday smirked. "Perfect," she corrected, her voice laden with approval. "It's perfect."

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"You can totally sit with us," said a voice that seemed to shimmer with the promise of friendship. Cady Heron looked up from her lunch tray, blinking in surprise. The speaker was a girl with a smile so wide it could swallow her whole, her blonde hair glossy and her teeth as bright as the fluorescent lights above. The words hung in the air, tantalizing and slightly intimidating. This was Regina George, the queen bee of High School. Cady had heard the whispers, the stories that painted her as both an angel and a demon. She was the center of the school's social universe, and everyone else was just a planet orbiting around her. Cady felt a swell of excitement. She had been a fish out of water since moving from Africa to the suburbs of Chicago. The simple act of being acknowledged by the most popular girl in school was a beacon of hope in a sea of unfamiliar faces and cliques. She took a tentative step forward, her heart racing. "Thanks," Cady managed to murmur, setting her tray down at the table. The cafeteria buzzed with whispers as the group of pretty, popular girls made room for her. They were known as the Plastics, a name that Cady had learned from her newfound friend Janis Ian. These girls were the epitome of high school royalty, and now she was about to become one of them.
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
PLANKTON'S PET | Typed By: abney317 Plankton: Don't patronise me! Why does every single plan fall apart? It's just a stupid sandwich! I'm telling you, it's wearing me down! Karen: You need to stop your obsessi0n over it. SpongeBob: Plankton! (Looking through window) I have the perfect solution to your problem. Plankton: SpongeBob? How could you possibly help me? SpongeBob: You should try the local animal shelter? That's where I found my Gary. Plankton: Oh, yeah? Perhaps you're on to something there. (At animal shelter) Plankton: (Pet barks) Hey there, little guy. (Pet barks and jumps into Plankton's arms) Looks like we have a winner. SpongeBob: Oh, so cute! Whatcha gonna call him? He looks like a "Spot" to me. (Spot licks Plankton, barks and pants. Back at the Chum Bucket now.) Well, Spot, I'm your new owner, so shower me with love and affection. Karen: You're gonna have to train him to do that. Plankton: I, train him? (sighs) I'll give it a t̢ry. All right, Spot. Let's start with something easy. Stay. (Picks up Spot and sets him down) Good boy. Excellent! Now shake. (Spot shakes his bødy, shaking the whole building) Wow! That's one mean shake you got there. I think we should burn off some of that extra energy. Would you like to go walkies? (Holding up leash) (Put collar on Spot) March! (Spot barks. Plankton whistles. Plankton starts getting tired and panting) Phew. We've walked (Notices he's only made it to the mailbox) I guess our legs are too short for walkies. How about a nice round of fetch? (Brings back ball. Grunts) Fetch! (Ball lands on top of Spot and Plankton screams.) What have I done? I'm a terrible pet owner! Terrible! Karen! We're gonna need another Spot! (Spots squishes himself back together and pops up from the ground barking.) Nice rebound, Spot! You know, I get squashed a lot too. (sniffles. Spot licks Plankton) (Back in the Chum Bucket) Okay, Spot. Today, you'll learn how to be an attack pet to guard the Chum Bucket from intruders. Now, Spot, pretend I'm a burglar. Attack! (Spot whimpers) You're not getting this? Come at me! Uh-oh, losing balance. (Falls down) A little help? (Spot jumps on Plankton and licks him) On second thought, what do I need a guard dog for? I can't even give chum away. What I really need, is a retriever. (Plankton now showing Spot a picture of a Krabby Patty) This is your target. I want you to retrieve a Krabby Patty. Now, security is tight; so I've devise the pla-- (Spot walks away. Plankton flips to next page of plan with a picture of the Krusty Krab on it) Wait! Where are you going? You're not ready! Fish #1: I'd like a large... (sees moving Krabby Patty on the ground) What was that? Squidward: Didn't see it, don't care. Plankton: (Leaning back against, snoring and drooling. Spot drops Krabby Patty and barks) It's a Krabby Patty? It's...a miracle! Karen, look at what Spot brought home. Karen: That's wonderful! Spot deserves a reward. Plankton: He can have anything he wants, up to half my kingdom--er, laboratory. (Spot panting. Chomps entire Krabby Patty) Plankton: Noo! No! You've been a very bad amoeba! Bad amoeba! I'm afraid you'll have to be punıshed. You need a time out. I'm just gonna put you out here until you learnt to behave. (Spot to mailbox) Shouldn't take more than five minutes. (Spot whimpers) Aww... no, no, I must be strong. (Spot whimpers) I can't do it. Spot, I'm sorry. I-- (Plankton opens the door. Spot is gone and collar is on the ground) Spot! He's gone. (Crying) Where are you? Spot! Come back! (Sobbing) Spot! (Plankton goes searching) Spot! Where are you, Spot! (sobbing at the Krusty Krab dumpsters) SpongeBob: (Walks out with trash) Why, Plankton, what's wrong? (dump3d trash) Plankton: I lost spot. SpongeBob: This is terrible! Gary lost me once. I was cold, alone, st☆rve. It was the worst eight minutes of my life. Plankton: Spot! You're safe! You were hiding the whole time! You sneaky little amoeba, you. (Spot barks and licks Plankton. Plankton laughs) SpongeBob: Aw, wow! I'm glad you found Spot. Plankton: I've taught him everything he knows! (Spot barks and licks Plankton)
James Potter was a peculiar boy with a head of unruly black hair and eyes so bright they could outshine the stars. He had a knack for turning the most mundane moments into grand adventures. Whether it was climbing the tallest tree in the schoolyard or racing his friends across the Quidditch pitch, his imagination knew no bounds. But even in the whirlwind of his escapades, there was one person who remained steadfastly out of reach: Lily Evans. Lily was unlike anyone James had ever met. Her fiery red hair was a stark contrast to her soft, porcelain skin, and her eyes sparkled with a mix of intelligence and mischief. She was as fierce as a lioness and as graceful as a swan. Her laugh was like a melody that could charm the sternest of hearts, and it was a sound that James longed to hear directed at him. However, she had a tendency to dismiss his efforts with a roll of her eyes and a smirk that suggested she saw right through his bravado. Severus Snape, on the other hand, was a solitary figure. He lurked in the shadows of the school corridors, his eyes darting like a snake's as he took in every detail. His black hair was always impeccably combed and his robes pristine, as if he had just stepped out of a dark wardrobe. Severus was a prodigy in the art of potions, his talents often overlooked due to his cold demeanor. Yet, beneath the surface, there was something about him that drew James in. Perhaps it was the hint of vulnerability that occasionally flickered across his face, or the way his eyes lit up when he spoke about the most obscure magical herbs. The two boys moved in different circles, but they had one thing in common: a deep admiration for Lily. They watched her from afar, each imagining what it would be like to be the one to make her laugh genuinely or to capture her heart. But as the school year rolled on, their paths began to intertwine in ways they could never have anticipated. It was as if fate had a twisted sense of humor, throwing them together in situations that neither could escape. And as they found themselves drawn closer to Lily, a silent rivalry began to brew between them, a dance of longing glances and unspoken words. James, ever the charmer, tried to win Lily over with his flashy Quidditch moves and cheeky grins. But Lily, ever the enigma, remained unimpressed. In his frustration, James took to teasing Severus, using his popularity to make the other boy's life bad. He'd steal his books, trip him in the halls, and whisper snide comments. One rainy afternoon, as the school was dismissed for the day, James caught Severus crossing the crowded courtyard. He saw his chance and sneered, "Hey, Snapes, where's your broomstick?" His friends snickered, and Severus tensed, his eyes narrowing. Without waiting for a response, James conjured a water spray that drenched Severus' already soggy robes. The laughter grew louder as Severus stumbled away, the weight of his sodden clothes dragging him down. In the Great Hall, James watched as Severus sat alone at the Slytherin table, his shoulders hunched over a book. He whispered to his friends, "Look at the lonely little snake," and they all burst into laughter again. Severus glanced up, his gaze sharp and piercing, but James felt no remorse. In fact, he felt a strange thrill, as if he was in control of something he never had been before. The power of ridicule was potent, and he wielded it with the same ease he did his wand. Days turned into weeks, and James' pranks grew bolder. He'd jinx Severus' shoelaces to trip him up in the halls, replace his potion ingredients with foul-smelling dungbombs, and even cast a spell to make his robes shrink in the middle of class. Each time, Severus took the humiliation in silence, his eyes burning with a quiet anger that James found both fascinating and thrilling. It was a twisted game, but one James was determined to win. But the more James bullied, the more he felt the knot in his stomach tighten. It wasn't just guilt; it was something else. He noticed the way Severus' hands trembled as he poured potions, the way his voice grew softer in the face of his tormentors. And every time Lily saw what was happening, she'd give James a look that made him feel smaller than a house elf. He knew he was losing her respect, but he couldn't stop. It was as if he was under a compulsion to push Severus away from her, to prove to himself that he was the one she truly desired. One day, James' antics reached a new low. He'd convinced a group of his friends to help him pull a prank so elaborate, it was sure to leave Severus humiliated beyond repair. They waited in the shadows of the deserted library, setting up a series of traps that would culminate in a grand finale of slime and laughter. But as Severus approached, his head buried in a dusty tome, James felt a strange tug at his heart. He watched as the other boy stepped onto the first trap, a levitating book that smacked him in the face. The laughter of his friends seemed to echo hollowly in the vast room. Severus stumbled back, dropping his book into the puddle of ink that had appeared under his feet. He looked up, his eyes meeting James' for a brief moment. In that instant, James saw something he hadn't noticed before: a deep sadness that mirrored his own. It was as if the layers of bravado and spite had been peeled away, revealing a soul just as lost and lonely as his. The laughter died in his throat, and for a moment, James felt a flicker of empathy. But the moment was fleeting. His friends were still snickering, and Lily was watching from across the room, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. He knew he had to go through with it. The second trap was triggered, and a cascade of glittering confetti showered Severus, sticking to his damp robes like glittering scales. The Slytherin students looked on with a mix of amusement and contempt, and James felt his heart sink. He'd gone too far. As the last echo of laughter faded away, Severus slowly picked himself up, his eyes never leaving James. He wiped the ink from his face and took a step towards him, his fists clenched at his sides. "Is this what you call fun, Potter?" he spat, his voice low and dangerous. James took a step back, his bravado momentarily forgotten. He hadn't anticipated this. "It was just a joke, Snapes," James said weakly, his smile slipping. Severus took another step closer, his eyes blazing. "Is it a joke to you, to watch someone else's pain?" James's heart hammered in his chest as he searched for the right words, but his usual quips eluded him. The realization of what he'd done washed over him like a cold shower. He'd gone too far, and he couldn't take it back.
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
[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?
** English SPOT Notes ** Noun 1) small, usually round mark on something for example a stain. eg. ladybugs have spots and so do some animals but usually it refers to something you don't want, like a spot on your clothes. 2) a particular place or point 'This might be a good spot to rest for a while.' -- Sheldon's spot - a bald spot 3) British - a small amount of something - 'a spot of tea' Verb 1) to see or notice something 'Can you spot the differences?' 2) to mark or put spots on something 'The carpet was spotted with stains.' 3) to lend money - slang - 'Can you spot me a 20?' 4) to help someone do something physical like gymnastics. Idioms and more 1) A leopard cannot change it's spots: people can't/don't change He will again, a leopard can’t change it’s spots. 2) Got a soft spot for - weak point, or to have tender, loving feelings to She really has a soft spot for puppies! 3) hits the spot - something meets your needs - food, drink I was so hot and thirsty, the lemonade really hit the spot! 4) Spot on - to be exactly right He was spot on with his assessment of why the project failed. 5) X marks the spot The exact place of something, a letter x may be written on the location. Especially in kids stories about pirates and buried treasures you may hear someone talk about a map to find the buried treasure and say ‘x marks the spot’! 6) Spot check – noun or verb – a check or inspection that is random or only lasts a short amount of time. I heard they are doing spot checks at the border today. His boss would sometimes spot check his employees 7) Touch a sore spot (literal) (flu) Talk about something that may upset a person When he asked her about her age, he kind of touched a sore spot with her. 8) Blind spot This a 1) an area you can’t see, for example when driving, most cars have a blind spot where you can’t see around you when you are driving. This can be very dangerous. Newer cars like Teslas have lots of cameras so blind spots are not a big problem. 2) something about your life that you aren’t aware of. For example I could have a blind spot for ways that my youtube videos could be better. 9) Put someone ‘on the spot’ Make someone feel uncomfortable about something His questions about my love life really put me on the spot, I didn’t want to talk about it. 10) be in the spotlight Big bright light usually used on a stage , sometimes literal Center of attention – could be good and on purpose or not good If a person is giving a presentation, they are in the spotlight. But it could be bad if someone is famous and they do something bad or embarrassing and everyone notices. 11) tough spot – difficult situation I’m in kind of a tough spot with money right now Also: hot spot - an exciting place, wireless hotspot sunspot - darker, cooler areas on the surface of the sun spotty - has spots, uneven, inconsistent
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 . . .
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.
The girl who could not die June 30, 2017 @hellofinah I knew a girl who could not die And all her life she wondered why No matter how hard she tried This poor girl just couldnt die So one night she brought a rope As she felt she couldnt cope͞ Up from the ceiling, a valiant try But this poor girl was still alįve Another night, she brought a kn1fe Hoping she could end her life She slιt her wrist, but heres a twist This poor girl still exists That poor girl was seeing red When that man chopped off her head Now in a freezer she will cry ‘Cos even then, she did not die
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.
ᴬ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ ᵇᵒʸ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᴵ’ᵐ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ, ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ ᵖᵉᵗ ᵒᶠ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᴵᵗ’ˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ˢᵒ ᵗᵒⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵒ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴵ ʲᵘᵐᵖᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵘᵈᵍᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐ, ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᵈʳᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ˡⁱᵐᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵇʸ ʰⁱˢ ˢⁱᵈᵉ‧ ‘ᴹᵘˢᵗ ᵇᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵈᵉᵉᵖ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒʷ’ ᴵ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉᵈ‧ ᴱᵃʳˡⁱᵉʳ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ ʷᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵃ ᵗᵘⁿᵃ ⁿᵒᵒᵈˡᵉ ᶜᵃˢˢᵉʳᵒˡᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵗᵒ ⁱⁿᵉᵈⁱᵇˡᵉ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵖʳⁱⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ‧ ‘ᵂᵃⁱᵗ ᵘᵖ, ʷʰᵃᵗ ⁱᶠ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʳᵉᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ ˡⁱˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵘⁿᵃ ⁿᵒᵒᵈˡᵉ ᶜᵃˢˢᵉʳᵒˡᵉ’ ᴵ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵗ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ, ˢᵒ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ… ᴵ ˢᵘᶜᶜᵉˢˢᶠᵘˡˡʸ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʷⁱᵗʰ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ ˢᵃᶠᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜˡᵉᵃⁿ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈⁱⁿᵉʳ ᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃʳᵉᵃ ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ‘ᵉᵐ‧ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ’ᵗ ʷᵃⁱᵗ! ᵀʰᵉ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶠ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰ ᵈᵃʸ ᴵ ᵇᵃʳᵏᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ‧ “ᴰⁱᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶜˡᵉᵃⁿ…” “ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ, ᵈⁱᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜˡᵉᵃⁿ…” ᴵ ʷᵃᵍ ᵐʸ ᵗᵃⁱˡ ᵃˢ ᴵ ᵈʳᵒᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃᵖᵉʳ ˡⁱˢᵗ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃᵗ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ “ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʷʰᵃᵗ’ˢ…” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒᵖᵉⁿˢ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ‧ ᴮᵒᵗʰ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵍᵃˢᵖᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᴵ ʲᵘᵐᵖ ⁱⁿ ᵉˣᶜⁱᵗᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧ “ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵈⁱᵈ…” “ʸᵃᵖ!” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ˢᵒ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᴵ ᵖʳᵉˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵇᵘᵗᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ˢⁱᵍⁿ ᴵ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ˢᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ‘ʷᵉ ⁿᵒʷ ˢᵉˡˡ ᴷʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᴾᵃᵗᵗⁱᵉˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʰᵃˡᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳⁱᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ, ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ ᵇᵘʸ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ ᶠʳᵉᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ ᵒⁿˡʸ!’ “ᴸᵉᵗ’ˢ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵖᵃᵗᵗⁱᵉˢ ᵐᵉ ᵇᵒʸ!” ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ “ᴰᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ ˢᵉᵉᵐ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ?” ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵒᶠᶠⁱᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ˡᵉˢˢ ᶜᵘˢᵗᵒᵐᵉʳˢ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ, ᵗʰᵉⁿ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱⁿᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ “ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ…” “ʸᵉᵉˢ…” ᴾᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ! ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵒ ᵍˡᵃᵈ ʰᵃᵖᵖⁱᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ! “ᴼʰ ᵐʸ ʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵃᵇˡᵉˢ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ…” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉᵈ‧ ᴵ ᵍʳᵒʷˡᵉᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ˢᵃʷ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧ “ʸᵒᵘ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ…” “ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ʰᵒʷ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ʷⁱˢʰ ᵐᵉ ᵃ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ!” “ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍˢ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ…” “ᶠⁱⁿᵈᵉʳˢ ᴷᵉᵉᵖᵉʳˢ ˡᵒˢᵉʳ…” “ᴵ’ᵐ ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ!” ᴵ ʷʰⁱᵐᵖᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵘʳⁿˢ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ‧ “ᵀᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃᵐᵉ ˢᵘᶜᶜᵉˢˢ ʷᵒⁿ’ᵗ ˡᵃˢᵗ ˡᵒⁿᵍ‧‧” ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˢʰᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵐʸ ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧ “ᴳᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱˢᵗ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵇᵃᵗᶜʰ…” ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵒᵖᵉⁿˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃᵖᵉʳ‧ ᴵᵗ ʰᵃᵈ ᵒᵘʳ ᵗᵘⁿᵃ ⁿᵒᵒᵈˡᵉ ᶜᵃˢˢᵉʳᵒˡᵉ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗ’ˢ ˡⁱˢᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵃʸˢ ‘ᔆᵒʳʳʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ, ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᴮᵒᵇ’ ᵒⁿ ᵃ ˢᵗⁱᶜᵏʸ ⁿᵒᵗᵉ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵍʰᵉᵈ‧ “ᵂᵉˡˡ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸᵃᵇˡᵉ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ⁱᵗ ˡᵃˢᵗᵉᵈ‧” ᴴᵉ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵃ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ ᵃˢ ᴵ ˡⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ᵏⁱˢˢ‧ “ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ‧” ᵀⁱʳᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ, ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵉᵉᵐᵉᵈ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉˡʸ ᵉˣʰᵃᵘˢᵗᵉᵈ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵈᵃʸ‧ ᵂᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗʳᵃⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ “ᵂᵒᵒᶠ‧‧” “…ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ…” ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵃˢ ʷᵉ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵈʳⁱᶠᵗ ᵒᶠᶠ, ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᵘˢ ʰᵘᵍ‧
You cant change ATomicFLDR Spongebob smiled as his eyes fluttered open, and he was met with the face, er eye of his Plankton, who had been watching him sleep for the past, thirty minutes, wondering what it was that the sponge dreamt of, whenever he wasn't dreaming about rainbows made out of candy, and sunshine, if he dreamt of him. Plankton sighed, he was too good for him, how could someone so pure, love someone as dark, and evil as him? It wasn't like what he had with Karen, he couldn't control Spongebob like he could her, but he, could certainly control him, just by that smile. Which always had to be glued to his face, for if he ever so frowned, he vowed to destroy any and everything that made his sponge upset. He wondered when the day would come when he’d finally open those big beautiful blue eyes, and see the monster that he was, and, when he would finally turn away, but, he sighed again, he wasn't looking forward to that day, so for now, he’d enjoy the little happiness he brought him. Plankton was a fool, to fall for someone so pathetic, so childish, and so, cod, what was is it? That made him fall to his knees? Maybe it was his innocence, maybe it was what he secretly loved about him, him being so different from the rest, he never brought him down, he never called him bad names, never called him a loser, why was he so kind to him? “Morning, Sheldon.” Spongebob softly spoke, normally that name would send shocks of anger down his antennae, but he liked it when he called him by his first name rather than Plankton. Those eyes blinked, reflecting the bright lights from the sun that peaked through the blinds of the window. “Morning, Spongebob.” he smiled, and Spongebob closed his eyes and tugged the blanket over his shoulder before looking back at him, “How was your sleep?” he asked, and Plankton sighed with a smile, “Good, I dreamt that I’d finally gotten that formula, and all of Bikini Bottom was finally ours.” he smiled, normally, Spongebob would sweat at his thoughts of world domination, but why put the little man down? Even Plankton was allowed to dream. “Ours?” Spongebob questioned, and Plankton blushed, “Well, every great ruler is gonna need someone to sit beside them, when I finally have that formula, this world will be ours, and you will sit at my side, if you want.” he shrugged, and Spongebob ran his finger up Plankton’s side. “Oh? I will?” he questioned, and Plankton looked away, “Well, yeah.. I mean, once we become rulers, no one can push us around, they can't tell us we can't be together, if they dare laugh th-” Spongebob clears his throat. “What?” he cocked his brow, Spongebob shrugged, “I don't like revenge..” he answered gently twirling his finger around in the sheets before he returned his gaze. Plankton sighed, “Then what then?” he asked, and Spongebob smiled, kissing his eye, “Let them laugh, as long as we’re happy- it shouldn't matter, right?” he smiled as he pecked the side of Planktons head, and Plankton sighed, “You’re too good for your own good.” “Oh but you love me.” he chuckled as he picked him up. “And to rub our happiness in your boss’ face while i'm at it.” He admitted and Spongebob just scoffed, he didn't care as long as it didn't involve stealing the formula. Spongebob sighed as he stood back up, “I'll see you tonight.” Stats: Published:2018-08-20
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..”
In the quaint town lived a young woman named Charlotte Watsford. Her days were filled with the quiet rhythms of the local library, where she worked meticulously cataloging books that had seen more years than she had. Charlotte had an unassuming beauty, with her auburn hair pinned back. Her smile was gentle, and it had the power to make even the sternest of patrons feel at ease. Beneath the veneer of the town, there was a world of magic, ancient and unseen. It was here that Charlotte's life took an unexpected turn when she met Cleo Sertori, a young woman with secrets as deep as the ocean. Cleo was a mermaid, a guardian of the sea, blessed with the ability to manipulate water and heal the creatures that dwelled within it. The revelation was as shocking as it was fascinating. Yet, with this gift came great responsibility, and Charlotte found herself torn between the life she knew and the allure of the vast, unexplored waters that called to her soul. One moonlit night, while the town slept peacefully, Charlotte felt an eerie emptiness within her. The gentle whispers of the sea that had once resonated in her heart were now silent. Panic set in as she realized her mermaid tail, a symbol of her newfound identity, had withered away, leaving her with the legs of a human once more. The loss of her powers weighed heavily on her, a sudden and profound absence that seemed to dull the vibrant colors of the world around her. Her heart pounded as she approached the edge. The ocean below was a restless canvas of inky blues and greys, a stark contrast to the serene waters that had cradled her during her time as a mermaid. The salt air kissed her cheeks, carrying with it a bittersweet reminder of the freedom she had left behind. Lewis, her devoted best friend, stood beside her, his eyes filled concern and curiosity. With trembling hands, Charlotte reached to Cleo's necklace. It was a talisman of her friendship with the mermaid, a bond that transcended the boundaries of land and sea. "I have to return this to her," she murmured, the weight of her decision etched into every syllable. With a heavy heart, Charlotte unclasped the necklace.
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.
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.
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/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/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/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!"
The Secret Formula (Is You) strawberry_fieldz Summary: After all these years of searching for the secret formula, SpongeBob miraculously (and very unceremoniously) reveals it to Plankton when they are dating. Stats:Published:2024-07-03Words:759 Days spent with Spongebob were usually full of excitement and adventure, which is why it was so surprising that today had been so relaxed. A walk, a picnic, and now lying together while cloud-watching. They were against the plush green grass of the field where Spongebob had chosen their date to take place. It might’ve even been the same field where they’d first bonded over ‘fun’. Spongebob was sentimental like that. “Look! That one looks like a dinosaur!” Spongebob said and pointed up at the sky. Plankton squinted up at the cloud in question. He wasn't wrong, it did share an uncanny resemblance to an ancient sea monster. “Hey, how about that one?” He pointed to a different one and Spongebob followed his finger with a smile. “It looks like a doomsday device!” Spongebob frowned. “Plankton, you’re not very good at this. That’s the third time you’ve said that!” “Whaaat? I can’t help if they all look like deadly weapons of mass destruction.” Plankton shrugged. Spongebob breathed in a sigh and decided not to press the issue. They both returned to content silence as Plankton folded his hands over his stomach, grinning softly. It wasn’t in Plankton’s nature to smile so often and a strange sense of calm washed over him. The sky was so blue and the day quiet (save for the occasional chirping clam) while his back stretched across SpongeBob’s shirt. One of SpongeBob’s fingers came up to rub his head affectionately and Plankton’s eye closed in bliss. “This is nice,” Spongebob mumbled. Really nice, Plankton couldn’t help but agree. “It is,” was what he said instead. So rarely before did he stop to enjoy life’s moments like this, the way Spongebob had grown accustomed to. It was unusual but Plankton wished this moment would last an eternity. And yet… once Plankton got too comfortable, he would inevitably ruin things. “So… what’s the secret formula?” he asked. He said it so casually he’d hoped Spongebob would answer without thinking, as if on instinct. Though, realistically, he expected the porous sponge to gasp and maybe snap at him, reminding him that even their relationship didn’t change the fact they were business rivals. He’d probably get a good scolding too, while he was at it. Instead, Spongebob matched his nonchalant tone and simply blurted, “There isn’t one.” It was comedic how fast Plankton sprang up, head swiveling to face Spongebob as his eyebrow wrinkled. “What?” He was certain it was a joke, it had to be a joke. Spongebob just stared at him with a smile. “There’s not a secret ingredient,” he assured him, letting out a bemused giggle. “Well- at least, not a food one.” “What are you saying?” “Sheldon…” Spongebob only called him by his name when he was being serious. He sat up a bit and caught Plankton in his hand, holding him close to his face. “The secret is love.” “You’re kidding me,” Plankton deadpanned. "DYAHAHAHAHA!" Spongebob burst into boisterous laughter while Plankton sighed, mindless helplessly trying to catch up with the turn of events. “Nope! I just make them with lots of love!” Plankton put a hand on his head, which was starting to hurt. “So…” he spoke slowly. “This whole time… the secret ingredient was your love?” “When you put it that way…” SpongeBob’s tongue poked out as he thought about it and then nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.” Plankton shook his head and couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. All that time and the answer to the formula has been right in front of him. There was no answer, but Spongebob was the answer. He kept laughing and lay on SpongeBob's hand, staring at the colorful sky and feeling the breeze against his antennas. Life felt good. Why did he never realize life could feel this way? Up until now, he’d existed in a constant state of anger and hate. It was nice to let go, to bask in someone else’s love, and finally feel good. “I love you, SpongeBob,” he eventually said with a small, happy sigh. The sponge, who’d been a little worried with his bout of sudden laughter, smiled. He gently kissed the little critter's head. “I love you too, Plankton.” A moment of silence passed as the two relaxed again. Then Plankton opened his mouth, taking a breath- “No, I’m not going to cook Krabby Patties for you to help you take over the world,” SpongeBob interrupted him, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Oh, tartar sauce,” Plankton grumbled and crossed his arms. “You’re no fun.” Notes: Oh hey, it's my first plankbob fic! This is dedicated to/inspired by my friend Lee aka @criticalcurve on Twitter. Also, this was inspired by this art by @CaeDios! There's also a The Good Place reference in this, sorry.
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.
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/TwoSentenceHorror Deiun ...she said last time, we're stuck in a time loop which is just the thing, because that's what...
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
ᴾᵘᵖᵖʸ ᴸᵒᵛᵉ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟽𝟷𝟿 "ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉ ᴵ'ᵐ ˡᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵐʸ ᵈᵃᵈ ᵖᵃʸ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵒ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵈᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ'ˢ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ ʷᵃˢ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵇʸ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ‧ ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ'ˢ ᵃ ʷʰᵃˡᵉ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ˢᶜᵃʳᵉˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ⁿᵒ ᵐᵃᵗᵗᵉʳ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵉʳ ᵈᵃᵈ ʷᵃˢ‧ "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ⸴ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵉᵉⁿ ᵐʸ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵒᶠ ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵍʳᵒʷˡᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵃᶠᵃʳ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ʰᵉˡᵈ ᶜᵘᵗˡᵉʳʸ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ⁱᶠ ˢʰᵉ'ᵈ ᵉᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵒᵘᵗᵈᵒᵒʳˢ ˢᵒ‧ ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷˢ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵈᵉˢᵗʳᵒʸᵉᵈ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉˡʸ‧ "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵒʷ‧‧‧" ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵃⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᶜᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ ᵗʰʳᵉʷ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇʳᵒᵏᵉⁿ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃˡᵐᵒˢᵗ ⁱⁿˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˡʸ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ⸴ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˡᵉˢˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵃᵍᵃᵖᵉ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵘᵗ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ‧ ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ˢᵗᵉᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ʳᵘˢʰ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ'ˢ ˢⁱᵈᵉ⸴ ᵍˡᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ʰᵉʳ‧ "ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉ⸴ ᵒʰ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ!" ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ⁿᵒʳ ˢᵃʸ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʷʰⁱᵐᵖᵉʳᵉᵈ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ 'ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ⁱˢ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ ˢᵒ ʷʰᵒ ᶜᵃⁿ ʰᵉˡᵖ? ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵗʳʸ ᵗᵉˣᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧‧‧' ᔆᵖᵒᵗ'ˢ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ‧ 'ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵘʳᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒʷ!' ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵐᵃⁿᵃᵍᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʸᵖᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˢᵃʷ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ⁱⁿ‧ "ᴴⁱ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ! ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵗᵉˣᵗ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʰᵉˡᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ ʰᵉ ᵗᵉˣᵗᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵉˣᵗ? ᔆᵐᵃʳᵗ ᵇᵒʸ! ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᶜʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳˢ ʷᵉʳᵉ‧ 'ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᴹᵒʳˢᵉ ᶜᵒᵈᵉ?' ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᴹᵒʳˢᵉ ᶜᵒᵈᵉ‧ "ʸᵉˢ; ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵐᵉ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʳᵉᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵘˢⁱⁿᵍ ᴹᵒʳˢᵉ ᶜᵒᵈᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᶜʳʸⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵏⁿᵉˡᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ᴵ ᵃˡˢᵒ ˡᵉᵃʳⁿᵗ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵃⁱᵈ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴴᵉ ʳᵉᵐᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵃⁿʸ ᵍˡᵃˢˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵃⁿⁱᵗⁱˢᵉᵈ ʷᵒᵘⁿᵈˢ‧ 'ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵒ ʷᵉ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒʷ?' ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵃˢᵏˢ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵘˢⁱⁿᵍ ᴹᵒʳˢᵉ ᶜᵒᵈᵉ‧ "ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʷᵉ'ˡˡ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃⁱᵗ; ʷʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ?" 'ᴴⁱˢ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧‧‧' ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵖᵘᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ 'ᵂʰᵉⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ʳᵉᵍᵃⁱⁿ ᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢⁿᵉˢˢ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵒᵛᵉʳʷʰᵉˡᵐᵉᵈ‧' "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉᵃᶜʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᴹᵒʳˢᵉ‧‧‧" 'ʸᵉˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵘˢ ᵇʳⁱⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧' "ᴵ'ˡˡ ᶜᵃʳᵉᶠᵘˡ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʰⁱᵐ‧" ᴱᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ⸴ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗⁱʳ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ʸᵉᵗ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉⁿᵉᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒᵛᵉʳʷʰᵉˡᵐ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˢ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ‧ "ᴴᵉʸ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ; ᶜᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵉʸᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵉ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵉᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒᶠᵗˡʸ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒʷ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵉᵍᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢⁿᵉˢˢ‧ ᵁᵖᵒⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ⸴ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶠˡᵘᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧ "ᵁᵍ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵘᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵍⁿⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ "ᵂʰᵃ‧‧‧" ᔆᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ⸴ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿᶜⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒⁿˢᵉᑫᵘᵉⁿᵗⁱᵃˡ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ʷᵒᵘⁿᵈˢ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧ "ᴳᵃʰ⸴ ᵒʷ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉˢᵗ‧‧‧" ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ᵉˣᵗʳᵃ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˡʸ ᵗᵒ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʰᵒʷ ʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰᵘʳᵗ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʸᵉᵗ; ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗʳᵉˢˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵒᵗ; ʸᵒᵘ'ᵛᵉ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵐᵖ ᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉᵃᵈ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵃˢ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ⁱⁿᶜʰᵉᵈ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉʳ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃˢᵏ ⁱᶠ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴴᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ?" "ᴴᵒʷ ᵈⁱᵈ ᴵ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢⁱᵗ ᵘᵖ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ˡᵉᵃⁿᵉᵈ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵈᵘᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉˣʰᵃᵘˢᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ‧ "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵈⁱᵈ‧‧‧ ʸⁱᵏᵉˢ; ʷʰʸ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵃᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃʳᵐ ʸᵒᵘ; ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ; ⁱˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ? ᴵ‧‧‧" "ᔆʰᵉ ᵇʳᵒᵏᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ‧ ᔆʰᵉ'ᵈ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ⸴ ˢᵒ‧‧‧" "ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ‧ "ᔆʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵃᵐ‧" ᔆᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗʳᵘᵍᵍˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉˡⁱᵈ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉˢᵗ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ˡˡ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ˡᵉˢˢ ᵈⁱᶻᶻʸ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵃ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ⁻ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ'ˢ‧‧‧" ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵃʸ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ˢᵃᵛᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ⸴ ˢᵖᵒᵗ; ʷʰᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷˢ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ'ᵛᵉ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰᵒˡᵈ‧ 'ᵀᵉˡˡ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᴵ ᵃᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ' ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃ ᵗᵉˣᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵈᵈˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ʰᵉ ᵗᵒˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵃˡᵉʳᵗᵉᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵗᵃᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ‧ "ᴱᵃˢʸ⸴ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ʷʳᵒⁿᵍ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ?" "ᵀʰᵉ ʷʰᵃˡᵉ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵒʷᵉᵈ ᴾᵉᵃʳˡ'ˢ ᵗᵉˣᵗ‧ "ᴹᵘˢᵗ'ᵛᵉ ᵃ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵐᵃʳᵉ‧" "ʸᵉᵃ ˢᵒʳʳʸ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ‧ 'ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏˢ' ˢᵖᵒᵗ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ⁱⁿ ᴹᵒʳˢᵉ ᶜᵒᵈᵉ‧
Plankton lay on the makeshift bed of crumpled newspaper, his body contorted into an uncomfortable knot. "I can't get to sleep, Eugene." Krabs sighed. "Why not?" "To hard," Plankton complained. Krabs looked over. "Maybe you need something to relax," he suggested. Plankton nodded, hopeful. "Like what?" Krabs considered for a moment, then his eyes lit up. "How about a bed time story?" "A what?" Plankton's voice was filled with skepticism. "You know, something to lull you to sleep." Plankton's expression softened. "Alright, Krabs, hit me with your best shot." Eugene cleared his throat and began his tale. "Once upon a time, in the vast expanse of the sea, there was a tiny plankton named Planky..." Plankton's eye widened for a moment, but the gentle rhythm of Krabs' voice soon began to work its magic. The crab's words painted a picture of a serene under water world, where the currents were soft whispers and the bioluminescent creatures danced a silent ballet. Plankton's eye grew heavier with each sentence, his body slowly unfurling from its tense state. "Planky," Eugene continued, "was a curious little fellow who loved nothing more than to drift through the sea, discovering its many secrets." His voice took on a soothing quality, each word carefully measured to match the steady rise and fall of the ocean outside their abode. "One night," Krabs went on, "as the moon cast its silver glow through the water, Planky stumbled upon a hidden lagoon. It was a place where the jelly fish swam in lazy circles, their soft bodies pulsing to an ancient lullaby that only the deep-sea creatures knew." Plankton's eyelid grew heavier, the image of the tranquil lagoon filling his mind. "In the center of this secret place," Krabs whispered, "was a giant clam, its shell open just enough to reveal a soft, inviting cushion of algae. Planky couldn't resist the urge to rest his tiny body upon it." Plankton's breathing grew deeper. He could almost feel the gentle sway of the clam's soft inner lining beneath him, the coolness of the water surrounding him, and the hypnotic pull of the moon's glow. Krabs noticed the change in his friend's demeanor and continued the story with renewed enthusiasm. "As Planky lay on the clam's cushion, the jellyfish grew closer, their ethereal lights creating a dazzling display of color that danced in time with the whispers of the water. They sang to him, their melodies echoing through the quiet night." The room grew quieter, save for the sound of the waves outside and Krabs' steady voice. Plankton's eye closed fully, his breathing syncing with the rhythm of the story. The crab went on, "Their song was one of peace and tranquility, of a world where worries were as fleeting as the bubbles that floated to the surface. Planky felt his troubles melt away, replaced by the warm embrace of the sea." Then, amidst the serene imagery, the first faint sound of a snore escaped Plankton. It was a sound so small and delicate that it could have easily been mistaken. Krabs smirked to himself. It's working. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "As the jellyfish serenaded him, Planky felt his eyes grow heavier and heavier, until they could no longer stay open. The lagoon's secrets grew dimmer, the colors of the jellyfish fading into a soft, comforting darkness." The snores grew progressively, more regular. Krabs took a moment to appreciate his own cleverness before continuing the tale. "The sea creatures of the night, noticing Planky's peaceful slumber, decided to join him. They formed a living blanket of fish and algae, wrapping him in their gentle embrace, ensuring his sleep would be uninterrupted." Plankton's body grew slack, the tension in his muscles seeping away as he descended deeper into the realm of sleep. His snores grew more rhythmic. The light from the moon had been absorbed into his dreams, guiding him through a world of peace and contentment. Krabs watched his friend's sleeping form, noticing the way the shadows played across his tiny frame, Plankton's antennae twitching ever so slightly with every snore, mouth slightly open as he inhaled and then to let out the soft, rumbling sounds. The sight was peculiar, yet endearing in its own peculiar way. He had never seen Plankton so relaxed, so free. The crab felt a strange sense of accomplishment and allowed himself a brief moment of pride before remembering his own exhaustion. "Now, Sheldon," Eugene murmured, "Let your mind rest, and tomorrow we'll tackle the world anew."
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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/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.
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/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."
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.
.ecnis reve niks sih gniraew neeb sah dna daetsni em htiw emoh emac taht eno eht saw erutaerc eht taht dna ..sretaw eht otni ti dewollof rehtorb ym woh rO .eert eht ni gnidih erutaerc eht tuoba reh llet t’now ew taht desimorp eW .elgnuj eht ni kees dna edih gniyalp dna tuo gnikaens tuoba mom llet t’ndluow ew taht desimorp eW .terces a evah I dna rehtorb yM hanifolleh@ 7102 ,4 yluJ terceS s’rehtorB yM

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

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.”
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░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▒░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒▒▓▓░░░▓▓▓▓█▓▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░▒▓▓▒▒▒▓░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░
Senin, 27 Maret 2017 REDDIT SCARY STORY #1 : I ONLY GO SHOPPING AT NIGHT By Reddit User : resistance1984 Aku menatap ke lantai, sebari seorang kasir mengecek barang belanjaanku dengan scanner di tangannya. Aku merasa lebih mudah mengatasi kecemasan yang kualami dengan cara menghindari kontak mata dengan orang lain. Itu sebabnya aku hanya pergi berbelanja di malam hari karena lebih sedikit orang untuk dihindari. “Apakah semuanya baik-baik saja ?” Kasir itu bertanya dengan santai. “Mm..hmm” Gumanku sambil menatap ke lantai. Suaranya terdengar bagus. Terdengar nyaman. Keingintahuanku akhirnya mengalahkanku, dan aku pun melirik ke arahnya. Kepala kasir itu yang utuh hanya tinggal sisi kiri, darah mengalir melalui mata dan telinganya di sebelah kanan. Mungkin kecelakaan mobil. Aku segera menurunkan pandanganku ke lantai dan merasakan muntah yang telah mencapai tenggorokanku. Setelah aku membayar, ia memberikan kembalianku dengan tangan yang remuk. Aku terkejut tangan itu bisa menahan sesuatu di atasnya. Setelah berterima kasih kepadanya, aku mengambil tasku dan berjalan ke arah pintu keluar. Segera setelahnya aku melihat seorang pria yang sedang melihat-lihat majalah yang dipajang di depan. Kulit wajah dan tangannya seperti hot dog yang jatuh kea rah api unggun. Sepertinya korban luka bakar. Aku mengubah arah jalanku ke arah lain dan melihat seorang wanita dengan memar ungu di sekitar lehernya, matanya melotot keluar dan berwarna merah. Mati digantung. Aku pun bergegas keluar dari minimarket secepat yang kubisa. Di dalam mobil aku akhirnya bisa bernafas lega sebari menyandarkan dahiku pada stir mobil. Pada akhirnya, aku melihat keatas dan melihat pantulan yang sudah tidak asing di kaca spion. Kepalaku terbuka di bagian belakang. Korban penembakan. Ah, mengapa aku pernah berharap memiliki kekuatan untuk melihat bagaimana orang akan meninggal ? Sc : Delomy, OGCPI at 24 March 2017 By Grim Reaper di Maret 27, 2017 https://indonesiancreepzone.blogspot.com/2017/03/i-only-go-shopping-at-night.html
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░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒▒▒░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒░░░░▓▒░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▓▒░░░░▓█▓▒░░░░░▓▒░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒░░░░░░▒▓▒░░░░▒▓░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒░░░▓▒░░░░░▓█▓████▓░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒░░░░░░▒█▒░░░░▒█▓▒▒▒░▒░░░░▒▒░░░░▒█▒▓▒░░░░░▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓░░░░▒▓▒▓▓░░░▒▓▓▒▓▒░░▒▒░░░░░▒▓░░░░▓▒░░▒▓▒▒░░▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓░▒▓▓░░░▓█████▒░▒▓▒▒▓▒░░░░░░░░▓▓░░▒▓░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░
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.
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⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⡈⠙⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣦⣤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠈⠉⠙⠛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢻⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⣀⠉⠙⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣦⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠉⠙⠛⠛⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠁⢀⣾⠁⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣦⣤⣤⣀⣀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠻⠿⢿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⠀⣠⣶⣿⠃⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣤⣤⣀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⣠⣴⣾⣿⡿⠁⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠉⣀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠈⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⠒⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⢀⣾⣾⣷⠓⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣿⣿⡏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢲⣶⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣀⣾⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⢷⣤⠾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣀⣠⣼⣷⣟⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣀⣤⡿⠿⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣁⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡟⠻⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠲⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣿⣿⣟⣿⣷⠀⣴⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⢠⣾⡟⠉⠁⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣽⠟⠀⢀⣠⣶⠖⠒⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠿⣅⡀⢀⣀⣠⣼⡟⠉⡏⡴⠞⢹⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢙⣦⠶⠞⣛⣛⠓⠶⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⣆⡀⠈⢉⣩⡽⠟⠁⠀⣸⡧⠶⠒⡾⢻⡶⠀⠀⣠⣟⡅⣴⠛⠉⠉⠉⠻⣲⣝⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠓⠶⠦⢤⣄⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣧⣶⣾⣿⣯⣍⣥⠀⠀⠀⣰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠁⠀⠀⣿⢹⠀⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠸⣆⠙⢧⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠛⠒⠶⠤⣤⣄⣀⣠⣤⡤⠶⣼⠋⠈⠉⠉⠀⠉⠻⢭⡿⠆⣒⡚⢓⡒⠒⣶⣦⠶⠟⠓⠲⠶⣿⠈⠀⠘⢿⣷⡲⠖⠚⠁⠀⣿⠀⠘⢁⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣟⢿⣍⠛⠛⠒⠒⠲⠥⣤⣀⠈⠀⣺⡶⠖⣒⣶⡾⠉⣠⣤⣄⢾⣦⠀⡟⣇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠒⠖⠛⠁⠀⠸⣬⣽⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠞⠋⠻⢷⣬⣳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠻⢯⣴⠋⣩⣼⠁⠄⠙⢿⣿⡷⣼⣷⡄⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⣀⣼⠛⢳⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡴⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠓⠾⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣬⡍⢳⣤⡄⠘⣧⡀⠈⢹⡦⠈⣿⣾⣋⣀⣴⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠳⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠽⠾⠶⠤⢴⣏⣁⣤⣾⣁⣠⢴⣏⣤⠴⣯⣤⠾⠋⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠀⠀⠙⠲⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠛⠓⠒⠶⠤⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠾⠀⠀⠀⣠⠆⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠓⠦⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠛⠲⠶⠤⣤⣄⣀⣀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠞⠃⣼⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙ ⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢒⠉⠁⠀⠀⠘⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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/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.
ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᴼⁿ! ⁽ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ⁻ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵘᵖ⸴ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⁻ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ⁾ 'ᴬʳᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᵃᵈʸ?' ᴵ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ⸴ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃʳʳʸ ᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵖˡᵃⁿ‧ ᴴⁱ⸴ ᵐʸ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ ⁱˢ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᴹʸ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ⁱˢ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵐʸ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵍᵉʳ ⁱˢˢᵘᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵈᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ⸴ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ‧ ᴵ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ ˢⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵃᵖ ᵈᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵒᵛⁱᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ ᵂᵉ ᶜᵘᵈᵈˡᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵇᵉᵈᵗⁱᵐᵉ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵍⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵐᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰⁱⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵒʷ ʷᵉᵃᵏⁿᵉˢˢ⸴ ⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵖˡᵃⁿ ᶠᵃⁱˡᵘʳᵉ ʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵍⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵃ ᵇʳⁱᵉᶠ ˢᵉⁿᵗᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ʷʳᵒⁿᵍ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ˢᵒ ᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵒ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ʳᵃⁿ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᶜʳʸⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᴵ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᶜʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴸᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ‧‧‧" "ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʰᵘᵐⁱˡⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ˢᵒ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ!" ᴴᵉ ʸᵉˡˡᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵃʳᶜᵃˢᵗⁱᶜ ʷⁱᶠᵉ‧ ᴵ ʷʰⁱᵐᵖᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵗᵉʳˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᴵ ˡⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʰᵘᵍᵍᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ‧ ᔆᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗ ⁽ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ʰᵉ ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵃⁿᵍʳʸ⁾ ᴹᵃᵈᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵐᵃᵈ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ ᵃᵗ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ! ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ᵉⁿᵉᵐⁱᵉˢ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˢᵒ ʰᵘʳᵗ‧ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᵗˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᵗˢ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˡᵉᵛᵉˡ! ᴵ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʷⁱⁿᵈᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ⸴ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵐʸ ᵐᵃⁿ! ᴵ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʷⁱⁿᵈᵒʷ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵖᵉᵉᵏᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵃ ʲᵒᵏᵉ!" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢʰᵉᵈ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ‧ ᵂʰʸ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉ ᵖⁱᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ˢⁱᶻᵉ? ᔆᵘʳᵉ⸴ ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ʳⁱᵛᵃˡˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᵘʳˢ ⁱˢ ˢˡᵒʷ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃᵐ ᶠᵘʳⁱᵒᵘˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʲᵘᵐᵖᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᴵ ᵍʳᵒʷˡᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵒᶠ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ‧ ᴵ'ˡˡ ˢʰᵒʷ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ ᵃ ʲᵒᵏᵉ! ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈⁿᵗ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴵ ˢⁿᵘᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ‧ ᴵ ⁱᵍⁿᵒʳᵉᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉ ᵐᵉ‧ ᴹʸ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ᴳᵃʳʸ'ˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵖᵉᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵒⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉʷʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵉᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵉʳᵐˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ; ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ⁱᶠ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵒʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧ ᴺᵒ⸴ ᴵ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵍᵉᵗ ˢᵃᵗⁱˢᶠᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒⁱᵗˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐᵃʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵃᵐᵒʳᵖʰᵒᵘˢ ˢʰᵃᵖᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐˢ ⁿᵒʳ ᶜˡᵃʷ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵉⁿᵉᵐⁱᵉˢ⸴ ˢᵒ ʷʰʸ ⁿᵒᵗ‧‧‧ ᴱʸᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉʷʰᵃᵗ ʳᵉᵈ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵉᵐᵉʳᵍᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱˢ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ⸴ ᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵛ ˢᶜʳᵉᵉⁿ‧‧‧" ᴴᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵉˣʰᵃᵘˢᵗᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸˢ ᵒʳᵈᵉᵃˡ‧ ᴴᵉ ʰᵉˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ᵃˢ ᴾᵉʳᶜʰ ᴾᵉʳᵏⁱⁿˢ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒᵒᵗᵃᵍᵉ ˢᵉᵍᵐᵉⁿᵗ ⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᴮⁱᵏⁱⁿⁱ ᴮᵒᵗᵗᵒᵐ ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ‧ "ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ⸴ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵖᵒᵖᵘˡᵃʳ ᵇᵉˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ⸴ ⁱˢ ⁱⁿᵈᵉᶠⁱⁿⁱᵗᵉˡʸ ᶜˡᵒˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ʰⁱˢ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃˡˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʷʰᵃᵗ ˢᵉᵉᵐˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˢᶜʳᵃᵗᶜʰᵉˢ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᵛᵉʳ‧‧‧" ᴵ ᵗᵃᵍᵍᵉᵈ ᵐʸ ᵗᵃⁱˡ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ˢᵃᵗ ᵘᵖ ˢᵗʳᵃⁱᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉʷˢ‧ "ᴴᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃⁿ ᵘⁿᵏⁿᵒʷⁿ ᵇˡᵘʳ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵃʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ ˢˡⁱᵐᵉ ᵃᵗᵗᵃᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵖʳᵉˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ᶜʰᵃʳᵍᵉˢ ᵈᵘᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵈ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵒⁿᵉʸ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᶜʳᵉᵉⁿ‧ "ᔆᵖᵒᵗ⸴ ᵈⁱᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒ‧‧‧" ᴵ ʲᵘᵐᵖᵉᵈ ᵉˣᶜⁱᵗᵉᵈˡʸ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵐᵉ⸴ ᵃˢ ᴵ ⁽ᵗᵉᵐᵖᵒʳᵃʳⁱˡʸ⁾ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʳⁱᵛᵃˡ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᶠᵒʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵇᵒᵈʸ ᵐᵉˢˢᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐʸ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ‧ ᴬⁿʸᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵈⁱˢˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱˢ ᵃⁿ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ᵇᵒᵒᵏ‧
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Minggu, 02 April 2017 REDDIT SCARY STORY : THEY'RE JUST SO DARN CUTE By Reddit User : sp00kyscary Translated By Me Aku senang menjadi guru di kelas 2. Anak-anak di kelasku begitu lucu dan polos. Mereka berada di usia yang sempurna. Aku seharusnya mengajar di kelas 6, tetapi saya menyadari bahwa itu adalah sebuah kesalahan. Kelas 6 adalah dimana mereka membentuk geng untuk mengintimidasi temannya, dan anak-anak benar-benar belajar cara menakuti satu sama lain. Pada usia itu, mereka telah dirusak oleh video mengerikan di internet yang menjelaskan tentang seks kepada mereka. Anak-anak di kelas 2 jauh lebih baik. Orang tua mereka masih berupaya melindungi mereka dari kerasnya dunia. Mereka meihatku dengan mata yang lebar, bersemangat untuk belajar, dan menerima semua yang aku bagikan kepada mereka. Hari favoritku ketika Hari Valentine. Anak-anak membuat kantong kertas kecil yan diisolasi dan ditaruh diatas meja mereka untuk diisi dengan kartu dan permen. Tahun ini, aku membuat biskuit lezat di rumah dan aku akan datang lebih awal untuk memberikan satu untuk masing-masing siswa. Aku bersemangat untuk melihat reaksi mereka. Aku tersenyum sepanjang pagi. Saya tersenyum ketika anak-anak itu tiba, berpakaian merah dan merah muda. Aku tersenyum karena mereka memegang kantong kertas mereka untuk melihat apa isinya. Aku tersenyum karena mereka memberiku hadiah yang menggemaskan “Terima kasih, Ms. Collins!” setelah mereka melihat biskuit yang saya buat untuk mereka. Aku tersenyum ketika mereka mengigit biskuit itu. Dan aku tersenyum ketika satu persatu dari mereka terjatuh ke tanah, tersedak, muntah dan wajah mereka membiru. Setelah semua, mereka berada di usia yang lucu. Itu akan menjadi sama ketika mereka tumbuh. By Grim Reaper di April 02, 2017 https://indonesiancreepzone.blogspot.com/2017/04/theyre-just-so-darn-cute.html
https://www.reddit.com/r/spongebob_piracy/new/
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.”
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.
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
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.
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.
.taht tuoba ton er'eW .enoemos hsab ot si esoprup niam s'taht seirots gnitirw fo raelc reetS .dewolla ton era esimed ro/dna tnemtaert lamina hsrah gnivlovni seirotS .taht rof ecalp eht ton era eW .etis siht fo tuo eritas lacitilop ticilpxe peeK .tnempiuqe snoitacinummocelet ro erawdrah ro erawtfos retupmoc yna ot ssecca dezirohtuanu elbane ro ,fo ytilanoitcnuf eht timil ,yortsed ,tpurretni ot dengised smargorp ro selif ,edoc retupmoc rehto yna ro sesuriv erawtfos sniatnoc taht lairetam yna elbaliava ekam esiwrehto ro timsnart ,liame ,tsop ,daolpu ton oD .slaudividni tuoba pissog ro/dna sromur detaitnatsbusnu daerps ro ,emafed ,rednals taht seirots etirw ot dewolla ton era uoY .dewolla ton era semirc tneloiv fo smitciv gnitsixe lautca fo nuf ekam taht seirots ,ylralimiS .eb ot uoy rof ecalp eht ton si siht neht ti ni sresu rehto eht htiw tsixeoc tonnac uoy fi dna ,ytinummoc a si sihT .etis siht no erehwyna mrof/epahs/yaw yna ni sresu rehto gnimrah ni tseretni na sserpxe ro ,netaerht ,etadimitni ,ssarah ton oD .tcudnoc lanimirc segaruocne ro enecsbo si taht tnetnoc yna timsnart ro tsop ton oD .sresu rehto etadimitni ro etanosrepmi ,netaerht ,ssarah ,esuba ton oD tcudnoC resU

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

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

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

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."
@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.
r/shortscarystories 5 yr. ago iiHighwind Extinction She was the first of her kind. Now, she was the last. It was eons ago that she had first awoken in that bleak and dreary place with neither memories nor purpose. The inhabitants were content to go about their everyday lives and ignored all of her attempts to communicate. Rejected and alone, she retreated to her own desolate corner and spent her days in a daze. As the days turned to years, and the inhabitants grew old, died and were replaced by their descendants, she alone remained untouched by the passage of time. Isolated and driven nearly to the point of madness, she cursed at the heavens, believing her isolation and solitude to be some form of punishment for past sins. But one day, out of the blue, something miraculous happened. She became pregnant. It was an impossible pregnancy. She hadn't had any relations with any of the inhabitants after all. But to her, it didn't matter. The birth of her child would be the death of her solitude. And so ages passed, and her child had given birth to children of her own, and them children of their own. All immaculate conceptions. All untouched by time. She had become the founder of a community. Ignored by the inhabitants, her community thrived. She was finally happy. But alas, her happiness was not to be. Everything changed when the men in white attacked. Perhaps one of her great great great grandchildren had wandered into their territory, or perhaps they had taken offence at some unknown transgressions. She had no idea. The men in white ignored all attempts to negotiate, ignored her pleas, ignored the cries of her children, ignored their cries of surrender. And to her horror, she discovered that even though they were immune to the passage of time, they were mortals just like everyone else. They descended like a force of nature, cleaving through her community and exterminating anyone they came across with extreme prejudice. No one was spared, not even the original inhabitants. Reeling in grief as the men in white surrounded her, she had lashed out, determined to bring as many of them with her as she possibly could. She would fight tooth and nail. She would make them suffer. Now, as she lay in a field of carnage, limbs torn asunder, she could only lament at the heavens. "Why?! Why give me a fleeting moment of happiness only to cruelly snatch it away from me? What horrible sin did I commit?" A brilliant flash of all enveloping white light robbed her of her sight, disintegrating her mangled body and obliterating all traces of what was once her community. She was the first of her kind. Now, she was the last. Now, her kind was no more. ‐----‐---------------------------------------------------------------- "Ma'am, the test results are back. The radiation therapy worked. You're officially cancer free."
Sam_Ronin OP • 7y ago Deutsche Version / German Version Meine Freunde in der Schule sagen Monster verstecken sich unter dem Bett. Oder im Schrank. Unter Brücken oder in Wäldern. Und ich dachte immer, das sind nur Märchen und Geschichten. Wie die Geschichte von Rotkäppchen, mit der man Kindern beibringt, dass sie auf dem Weg bleiben sollen. Oder die Geschichte von Schneewittchen, die zeigen soll warum man von Fremden nicht annehmen soll. Aber was, wenn Monster wirklich existieren? Wenn sie nicht aussehen wie Wölfe oder alte Hexen, sondern wie die Menschen, die uns am nächsten stehen. Monster die nicht plötzlich aus einer dunklen Ecke hervorgesprungen kommen, sondern sich langsam den Körper der Menschen übernehmen, denen wir vertraut haben. Wenn die eigene Familie nicht mehr die liebenden Menschen sind, die sie einst waren. Tagsüber verstecken sich die Monster in den tiefen der Seele, aber wenn es dunkel oder leise wird, dann kommen sie hervor. Sabbernd, lechzend, stinkend. Und wenn dir niemand glaubt, dass es Monster wirklich gibt. Wenn die eigene Mutter glaubt man sei verrückt oder nur zu sensibel, weil sie das Monster nicht sieht, obwohl es direkt vor ihr steht? Was soll man tun? Kämpfen, flüchten oder dulden? Ich habe mich entschieden heute zu kämpfen. Das Messer liegt griffbereit. Wenn das Monster heute kommt, wird es seine letzte Tat gewesen sein. Die Tür zu meinem Zimmer öffnet sich leise. Licht vom Flur fällt herein und zeichnet seine Umrisse in Schwarz. Es kommt. Ich hoffe Mom verzeiht mir und sucht sich ihren neuen Freund sorgfältiger aus.
The Eighth Deadliest Sin August 30, 2017 @hellofinah I fool people. I fool people into thinking I’m good, that I’m something to strive for. I am a goal everyone wants and is convinced they need. I make people do stupid things. Gluttony is the one no one needs. Wrath, Pride, Greed, and Enׁvy all follow me. Sloth is my weàkness. Lust is the more temporary side of me. But I am forever, if they wanteԀ me. People crave me. And when I have them, I make them regret it. I make them do stupid things. Things that could get them Ķilled, that consume them. I make them give everything up. Møney. Pøwer. Freedom. LiFe. Soul. And I do it all from under their nose. My name is Love. Also known as the Eighth deadliest sin. And it’s truly a pleasure to be your friend.
They said I wouldn't last 5 minutes in the old haunted house. And yet, here I am still 130 years later.
r/shortscarystories 5 yr. ago DEADPOOLPRIME123 Shower I’m finally taking a shower today! I haven’t had one in months My mommy and I work night and day Underneath the blazing sun I’m finally taking a shower today I say as I eat my gruel Mommy made a high pitched groan As sad as a dy1ng mule I’m finally taking a shower today I say to the workers outside As they shake my hand, I wonder Why did they tell me goodbye? I’m finally taking a shower today I say to the germαn soldier with a grin He smirks and opens the shower door Inviting me to come in I’m finally taking a shower today As my vision fades away A light comes towards me and I smile with glee I saw my Daddy today.
Go to Reddit Answers Expand search Expand user menu Back Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 6 yr. ago boysnbury Join Washington, Oregon, 1974 I hate my hair. It’s so plain and boring: mousy brown and poker straight. The only thing it has going for it is its length, which is midway down my back. Still, it’s impossible to put in any other style than the one I’ve been sporting since I was twelve - loose and parted in the middle. Plain hair framing a plain face. Which is why, on a Friday evening, I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed, listening to Stevie Wonder records and idly running a brush through my hair, instead of on a date, like my dorm mate Rachael, who is blonde and bosomy. Sighing and tossing the brush aside, I pull on a cardigan and go out for a walk along the campus. Outdoors is dusky and tepid, with a gentle breeze lifting the strands of hair I so loathe. My head is down as I walk to avoid anyone I might know. I’m just not in the mood for any interaction. And that’s when I bump into him. I can hear the thump of books falling on the ground. Immediately I bend down to retrieve them, apologies tumbling from my lips. “I’m so so sorry, I --” Wow. He’s good-looking. Really good-looking; unlike the boys I’ve seen around here. Thick dark hair. Great bone structure. So well-dressed...and his arm in a sling. “Oh my God. Now I really feel bad.” “It’s ok; don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” His voice is smooth and deep, with a faint accent I can’t quite place. “I’m the one who thought I could carry all these books with just one arm.” I don’t realize that I’m still holding onto the books until he reaches for them. “Here, let me --” I’m not sure where my boldness is coming from, as I don’t socialize with boys all that much. But despite him being the best-looking guy I’ve ever seen, my ability to talk is as easy as breathing. “Where are you headed? I can carry these for you if you like. So you don’t drop them again.” His smile is knee-weakening. “I would like that, very much. I’m just heading to my car,” he says, jerking his head in the direction of the parking lot. On the way there, he compliments my hair. I respond by blushing and dropping my head so it falls in my face like a curtain, telling him how much I hate it. “Well, I think it’s just lovely.” And I believe him. We reach his Volkswagen Beetle. Still feeling bold as I watch him unlock his car, I say, “I’m Sabina, by the way. What’s your name?” “Theodore.” He opens the door and turns to look at me; this time his smile is accompanied by an odd hardness in his eyes. “But you can call me Ted.” Da_Reapa_commin • 6y ago Grew up in Tacoma, WA. One of my mom's friends knew him in college. Upvote 4 Downvote Reply reply Cidermonk • 6y ago I just went camping with a friend from Issaquah, she told me one of our mutual friend's aunt was a victim Upvote 5 Downvote Reply reply boysnbury OP • 6y ago Did your mom's friend say what he was like? Upvote 1 Downvote Reply reply Da_Reapa_commin • 6y ago It was awhile ago from when I saw her last but if I remember correct, she said he was good looking, smart and seemed like regular nice guy. Pretty much what everyone said about him. The part that he was just a regular nice guy is what is scary. Did you know: On April 20, 1889 at 6:34pm, another serial killer, Adolf Hitler, drew his first breath.
Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 8 yr. ago thethingthatwill Time travel exists, but it's more horrifying than you can imagine. Time travel exists. Kind of. Hundreds of years from now, future humans are going to think the form of time travel we have is archaic, akin to a manual typewriter or a telegraph. That’s basically as far as the technology has advanced— with the development of the FUTRMSG system, we can send short text-based messages back in time. The current limits can only send it back 24 hours. But through that miracle we can change our past. Avoid disaster, bypass financial ruin. Cheat death. As long as it fits within the short character limit, you can send yourself any kind of warning or advice, the reality around us automatically accommodates the changes you make. But unless it affects our lives, we can’t even feel or perceive reality changing around us. At first, this messaging system was confined within government headquarters, but once the private FUTRMSG company replicated the technology, this miraculous technology was made available to the public. Kind of. When I say “available to the public”, I don’t really mean the public. The system is exorbitantly, prohibitively expensive. It costs many times more than most families’ annual salary to send even one message. But for some that’s just a drop in the bucket, and our society has splintered even farther into the very very rich and the extremely desolate poor. The rich have infinite re-do buttons they can push to create perfect, error-free lives. And the rest of us suffer in the dirt. I’ve obsessively imagined changing my past, avoiding the spectacular misfortunes I’ve had. I once dreamed that I sent a message to my past self, telling my husband not to get on the bus the day a crash ripped his body to shreds. But as the dream started to melt away, I woke up to my filthy, tiny home, with my young son Luke tugging at my sleeve about how hungry he was. Sobbing. My heart breaks for him. Luke is all I have left. The reality is that when my husband died, I spent the 24 hours after the accident frantically begging for money on the streets, among the teeming crowds of unfortunates pleading for help. My city is a sea of poverty and purgatory for the dead, waiting in limbo to be resuscitated by a message from the future. But they almost always stay dead. Tonight there was a knock at my door, and a small, glowing capsule was delivered. A message. From FUTRMSG. What? How could a version of me 24 hours in the future possibly afford this? What could this be, how could it be more dire than my husband’s death? I press my thumb into the white orb as it scans my thumbprint and… Oh m. The color drains from my face as I read the message. I start shaking. How could I have possibly sent this? What… what happens? I read the words again and again and yet they still say: KILL LUKE RIGHT NOW I BEG YOU
Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 9 yr. ago MichaelDj54 "Don't come to school tomorrow." That was the last text my friend sent the night before the shooting. It wasn’t all that surprising, to be totally honest. David, my friend, had a real rough time the past year and a half. Everything just sort of…fell apart around him. His sister ran away from home and wound up murdered about a month later, chopped to pieces in the woods. Pretty soon after that, his mom committed suicide out of grief. Found her hanging in the bedroom, her face swollen and purple from the rope wrapping around her neck. Dad went down a dark path himself. Drugs, but the same effect all the same. What once was a hard working man was a shell of his former self. He never left their home, and became violent and unstable in the past six months following up on this. Poor David didn’t know how to cope, combined with the fact that he was bullied at school, all the way back in the third grade. It was unending torment, and it seemed life went out of his way to get worse. I tried to be a friend to him. I tried to be his shoulder to cry on, to be the person he could talk to, come out to. But I guess in the end, it didn’t matter. Every attempt I made, no matter how pleading it was and desperate, how much I wanted to help him. I suppose, in the long run, there were things I could have done. I could have told someone about the text, but I didn’t. I could have told someone about the gun I found in his drawer, but I didn’t. I could have resisted the urge to grab his sister while she was walking home, knocked her out and took my sweet time killing her, but I didn’t. I could have resisted the urge to break into their house and strangle his mother, but I didn’t. I could have resisted the urge to offer his dad drugs to cope with the pain, but I didn’t. I could have stood up for him all the times he’d been punched, kicked, stuffed into lockers and threatened for far worse, but I didn’t. Or rather, I didn’t want to. There’s a reason for all of this, I assure you. A look into human psyche, a chance to see how the brain ticks. Just a little question…how much grief must a man suffer before he breaks? As I watched the news reports the next morning, of my friends shooting and inevitable suicide, I began to wonder… It takes a bit to break a person… But how MUCH can they break? I look at my phone and pull up my next best friend, Alex. New baby brother, and his dog was getting on in years. Could be any day now. Let’s just find out.
https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/comments/1651tuc/spongebob_full_episode_index/
Ha pasado una semana desde los eventos del episodio "Amistad inesperada". Plankton no puede olvidar su tiempo con Bob esponja, no puede entender sus sentimientos ni quiere aceptarlos. Amistad interesada Aley0Fluorine Era de madrugada en Fondo de Bikini, Plankton deambulaba solo por las calles desiertas, la ciudad normalmente bulliciosa y llena de vida parecía dormir, dejando a Plankton como el único testigo del amanecer. Por alguna razón, Plankton no dejaba de pensar en los sucesos que pasaron hace una semana con Bob Esponja, no podía dejar de sentirse vacío desde que esa falsa amistad se desvaneció, sentía que le faltaba algo… o alguien. A pesar de tener a Karen, su fiel esposa computadora, a su lado, se sentía solo. Los recuerdos de su tiempo con la esponja amarilla seguían acechando su mente ¿Cómo podía extrañar a ese ingenuo y tonto chico? No, no, se repetía a sí mismo, no podía permitirse tal debilidad. ¿De verdad lo extrañaba? No, por supuesto que no, hizo lo correcto aquel día ¿No es así?, Lo único que importa es obtener la fórmula de las cangreburguers ¿Cierto? “Soy un perdedor, nunca podré obtener la fórmula secreta” pensó abatido. De repente, se paralizó, vio a Bob esponja acercándose, con su sonrisa característica y su andar alegre. Plankton sintió como si el universo mismo estuviera conspirando en su contra ¿Por qué él también estaba aquí? ¿Acaso el mundo lo odiaba? Por supuesto que sí. Pero no tuvo tiempo de seguir pensando en su mala suerte, su diminuto tamaño lo hacía vulnerable y antes de que pudiera reaccionar, Bob Esponja lo pisó sin siquiera darse cuenta. —¡Aaah! ¡Fíjate donde caminas! —gritó de dolor y frustración. —Ups, ¡Lo siento! No te vi — exclamó, rápidamente retirando su pie y dando un paso hacia atrás. Después de esto un gran e incómodo silencio se hizo presente. Plankton y Bob Esponja se miraron sin saber que decirse. El aire estaba cargado de tensión. Bob esponja quería romper el silencio, pero las palabras se le atoraban en la garganta. Plankton, por su parte, solo deseaba que la tierra se abriera y lo tragase para escapar de la humillación. —Escucha, Plankton… — finalmente, Bob Esponja decidió tomar la iniciativa, tragó saliva, tratando de encontrar las palabras adecuadas para expresarse. —Sé que las cosas son complicadas entre nosotros —hizo una pausa esperando a que Plankton dijera algo. El orgullo de Plankton lo mantuvo en silencio, escuchando las palabras de Bob Esponja sin responder. Bob Esponja suspiró y se agachó para estar a la altura de Plankton, su mirada llena de sinceridad y vulnerabilidad. —Es que… no puedo dejar de pensar en lo que pasó. Lo he estado pensando mucho —su voz era suave y emotiva. —Sé que no quieres escucharlo, pero… en realidad me gustó pasar tiempo contigo. Te consideré un amigo. Por un momento, Plankton se sintió tentado de expresar sus sentimientos de la misma manera, pero su orgullo se lo impidió. No podía ceder ante tales tontas debilidades. —Eres demasiado ingenuo — respondió con dureza, intentando ocultar sus verdaderos sentimientos. La expresión de Bob Esponja se desmoronó, dolida por las palabras de Plankton. Había esperado comprensión, o incluso una disculpa, pero parecía que era demasiado pedir. —Creí en ti y pensé que sentías lo mismo. Pero estaba equivocado, ¿no? … Mírame a los ojos y dime que nuestra amistad no significó nada para ti. Plankton miró al suelo, sin querer admitir la verdad. Había disfrutado del tiempo con Bob Esponja, nadie nunca se había preocupado por él de esa manera y este chico estuvo ahí, intentando cambiarlo, mostrándole cariño cuando todo Fondo de Bikini le decía que era un perdedor. —A mí solo me importa conseguir la fórmula de la Cangreburguer —respondió con frialdad. Bob Esponja sintió una mezcla de dolor y decepción. Había esperado que la obsesión de Plankton con la fórmula de las cangreburguers no fuera lo único que importaba, que su tiempo con él hubiera significado algo y no solo fuera una amistad interesada. —¿Eso es todo lo que fue para ti? ¿Solo un medio para un fin? ¿Nuestra amistad no significó nada? —su voz era llena de tristeza y desilusión. Plankton se sintió incómodo, sabía que había herido a Bob esponja y por alguna razón le importaba, se supone que él era una persona mala ¿Por qué se estaba sintiendo así? ¿Por qué está sintiendo empatía? —No lo entiendes, conseguir la fórmula secreta es lo único que me importa ¡es mi razón de ser! Bob esponja sacudió la cabeza, negando. —No Plankton, hay más en la vida que solo una fórmula. Hay amistad, amor … ¡Hay vida! Plankton se sintió abrumado por esas palabras, siempre había creído que ser malvado y conseguir la fórmula secreta era lo único que necesitaba, pero ahora, después de pasar tiempo con ese amable e inocente chico, estaba dudando si en verdad valía la pena seguir así. —No sé que decir… —admitió, siendo honesto con sus sentimientos después de tanto tiempo. Bob esponja se acercó más a él y lo recogió entre sus manos. —No tienes que decir nada, Plankton, solo piensa en lo que te he dicho, piensa en lo que podríamos ser si dejamos atrás la fórmula —le sonrió dulcemente. —¿Sabes? Siento que no es casualidad que nos hayamos encontrado aquí. Bob esponja miró al cielo, donde el sol emergía lentamente, pintando el cielo con tonos cálidos y suaves, se veía hermoso. Plankton siguió su mirada y, sin poder evitarlo, esbozó una pequeña sonrisa. Se sentía bien, se sentía en paz junto a este chico, sentía una conexión que nunca había experimentado. Volteó a ver a Bob, parecía perdido en la contemplación del cielo, su rostro sereno y concentrado, su sonrisa era suave y encantadora y sus ojos brillaban, se veía lindo. Plankton sintió un ardor en su pecho y en sus mejillas, como si su corazón latiera con fuerza y su piel se calentará con una emoción desconocida… “¿Qué significa esto?”, se preguntó, confundido pero a la vez fascinado por lo que estaba experimentando. Bob esponja, ajeno a la mirada del contrario, continuó admirando el cielo. Plankton por su parte no podía apartar su mirada de él, estaba confundido ¿Qué estaba sintiendo? De repente, Bob esponja se volvió hacia Plankton y sus ojos se encontraron. Por un momento, se miraron fijamente, sin decir una palabra. —¿En qué estás pensando, Plankton? —preguntó, rompiendo el silencio, con una voz suave y curiosa. Plankton se avergonzó, no sabía que decir, no sabía cómo expresar lo que estaba sintiendo. Se limitó a sacudir la cabeza y a sonreír, esperando a que Bob esponja entendiera sin necesidad de palabras. Bob esponja le regresó la sonrisa, comprendiendo que para él era un desafío expresar sus sentimientos, así que decidió no presionarlo y simplemente disfrutar del momento. Ambas criaturas marinas disfrutaron de la bella vista del cielo, este era el inicio de algo más que una amistad interesada.
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@HELLOFINAH June 12, 2017 You wake up to the sound of the bulb in your nightlight shattering, and in your dark bedroom, something whispers into your ear. “Lights out.”
I watched from the window July 12, 2017 @hellofinah I watched from the window as she tucked the little girl into bed. I watched as she kissed her forehead and checked for monsters in her closet and under the bed. I watched as she switched off the lights and left the room. I watched as the little girl rolled over in bed and smiled at me, her eyes glowing in the darkness and her teeth becoming jagged, crooked points, and I wish more than anything else in the world that my mom would realize that I’m not the little girl in my bed.
HELLOFINAH X-STATIC June 27, 2017 I’m always awakened at night by the sounds of screaming coming from the tv in my dad’s room. Problem is, it’s an analog television and it hasn’t been working since 1995.
ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰʸ ⁿᵉⁱᵍʰᵇᵒᵘʳ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵃʸˢ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ "ᴵᵗ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᶠᵘⁿ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ⁱᵐᵖʳᵒᵛᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵒʳᵏᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵒ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵗᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵗᵃʸ ⁽ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵈⁱˢˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵒⁱˢᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵏ⁾ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵗᵒ ⁱⁿᶜˡᵘᵈᵉ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴳᵃʳʸ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁿᵃⁱˡ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᶜʳᵃˢʰᵉˢ ʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵖˡᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ⸴ ᵐʸ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ'ˢ ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ‧ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵃⁿ ᵉʸᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵉᵃˢⁱˡʸ ᵃⁿᵍʳʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵃⁿⁿᵒʸˢ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ᵃᵇˡᵉⁱˢᵗ ᵘⁿⁱⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʷᵉˡˡ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵒᵈᵈˢ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷᵒʳᵏˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵖᵘᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʳᵒⁿᵍ ʷᵃʸ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵒᵖᵖᵒˢⁱᵗᵉˢ ᵃᵗᵗʳᵃᶜᵗ⸴ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢʰⁱᵖ ᵈʸⁿᵃᵐⁱᶜ ᵈᵘᵒ ʷᵒʳᵏ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃˡˡ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵇᵉ ⁿⁱᶜᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᴵ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏⁿᵒʷˢ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᵖᵃᶜⁱᶠⁱˢᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵏⁿᵒʷˢ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵍᵉʳ ⁱˢˢᵘᵉˢ ᔆᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵘᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᶜᵒᵐᵖʳᵒᵐⁱˢᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ ᶻᵒⁿᵉˢ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷˢ ʰᵉ ʳᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᵒᵖᵉⁿˢ ᵘᵖ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ʷʰⁱˡᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵈᵐᵃ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ʰᵃˢ ˡⁱᵐⁱᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵏⁿᵒʷˢ ⁱᵗ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵖˡᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵗˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵘᵇᵇᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵒᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵃ ʳᵒᶜᵏ‧ "ᵂᵃᵗᶜʰ ᵒᵘᵗ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒᵒˡ!" ʸᵉˡˡᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵒᶜᵏ ᵒᶠᶠ‧ ᴵᵗˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ʷᵃʸ ᵒᶠ ˢʰᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃʳᵉˢ ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ‧ ᵂᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ⁱᶜᵉ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵗˢ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ⁱⁿˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ‧ "ᴱᵃˢʸ⸴ ᵇᵒʸ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵗᵉˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵖᵒᵗ⸴ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ʰᵘᵍᵍᵉʳ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢⁿᵘᵍᵍˡᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵖᵒᵗ; ʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ⸴ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ˡᵉⁿᵍᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵘᵍᵍᵉˢᵗ ᵃ ᵇᵒᵃʳᵈ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ⸴ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵐʸ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉᵗⁱᵗⁱᵛᵉ ⁿᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ‧ ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʰᵉˡᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵃ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ‧ "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿᵃˡʸˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᶜⁱᵖᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʸᵒᵘ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵃ ᵗᵃˢᵗᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉˡⁱᶜⁱᵒᵘˢⁿᵉˢˢ‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ "ᴮᵘᵗ ⁱᶠ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧‧‧" "ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ; ᵇᵉˢⁱᵈᵉˢ⸴ ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ ᵇᵃʳⁿᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ˡⁱᶠᵉ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ˢᵖˡⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ⸴ ᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ˡᵃˢᵗ ᵐᵒʳˢᵉˡ! "ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵏⁱᵈ‧‧‧" ᴵ ˢᵃʷ ʰᵒʷ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉʳᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵍʳᵃᵗⁱᵗᵘᵈᵉ⸴ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʳᵃʳᵉˡʸ ˢᵒ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ˢʰᵒʷˢ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒʸˢ ᵖᵘˡˡᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘᶜʰ ⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉˡᵉᵛⁱˢⁱᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵉᵃᵗᵉᵈ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵇʸ ˢⁱᵈᵉ⸴ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴳᵃʳʸ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ "ᴷⁱᵈ⸴ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵒˢˢ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰⁱᵐ ᴵ'ᵈ ᵇᵉ ˢᵗᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ⸴ ˢᵒ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵒʳʳʸ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ˡᵉᵃⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉʳ‧ "ᵂᵃⁱᵗ⸴ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ! ᵂʰᵃᵗ‧‧‧" "ᵀᵉˡˡ ʰⁱᵐ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵃ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵃᵗ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿⁿ‽" ᴵ ˢᵘᵍᵍᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ‧ ᵂᵉ ᵃˡˡ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵒʸᵃˡ ʷᵒʳᵏᵉʳ ˢᵗᵃʸᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ⸴ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ⁱᶠ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᶜⁱʳᶜᵘᵐˢᵗᵃⁿᶜᵉˢ‧ ᴵᵗ'ᵈ ᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ʳⁱˢᵏ ᵒᶠ ᵗʳᵒᵘᵇˡᵉ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ⁱᵗˢ ʷᵒʳᵗʰ! ᴼⁿˡʸ ⁱᵐᵃᵍⁱⁿᵉ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᶜⁱᵛⁱˡ ᵗᵒ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ ˢʰᵃʳᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ‧‧‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉˢ ʰᵒʷ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ⸴ ⁿᵒ ᵐᵃᵗᵗᵉʳ ʷʰᵃᵗ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵒᵛᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵒᵈᵈˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈˢ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵒʸᵃˡᵗʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ⸴ ᵃˡᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵃᵍʳᵉᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ⁱᵗ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ᵍᵒᵃˡ ⁱⁿ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ⁱˢ ˢʰᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ ʰᵒʷ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵒⁿ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᶜᵃᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵒᵘˢᵉ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ‧ ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵒᵍʳᵃᵐᵐᵉ ᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉˡᵉᵛⁱˢⁱᵒⁿ‧ ᴵ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ᵃᵗᵗᵉⁿᵈ ʷᵒʳᵏ‧‧‧" "ᴵᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉ ᵃᵗ ⁸ ᵒ'ᶜˡᵒᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵐ‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗˡʸ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵗⁱʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ˡᵉᵃⁿᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘⁿᵃʷᵃʳᵉˢ‧ ᴼⁿˡʸ ᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵒᵍʳᵃᵐᵐᵉ‧ ᴼʰ ʰᵒʷ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ'ᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ⁱᵗ; ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵘᶜᵏˡᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠᵘʳⁱᵒᵘˢ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ "ᴴᵒʷ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵉ?" ᴵ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ‧ "ᵂᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ‧‧‧" "ᴵˡˡ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵃ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵃᵗ ᵐʸ ᵗᵒᵉ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˡıᵉ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵃᵇˡʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˡᵃ̊ʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ⁱˢ ⁱᵗ?" ᴵ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʸ⸴ ʳᵒᵘˢⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ "ᴼʰ⸴ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵗ ʷᵒʳᵏ! ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˢᵘˢᵖⁱᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ⸴ ⁿᵒʳ ᵇᵉ ˡᵃᵗᵉ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵒᵉ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵉ?" ᴵ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒ ʳᵉᵈⁿᵉˢˢ‧ "ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ᵍᵒ ᵉᵃˢʸ ᵒⁿ ⁱᵗ‧" "ᵂⁱˡˡ ᵈᵒ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧ "ᴸᵃˢᵗ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ʳᵉᶜᵃˡˡ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿ ᶠᵒᶜᵘˢˢᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᶜʳᵉᵉⁿ ᵇʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃˡᶠ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵒᵍʳᵃᵐᵐᵉ!" ᴵ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʲᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ⸴ ʳᵉᵍʳᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᴵ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ⁱᵗ; ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃᵈᵐⁱᵗ ᵛᵘˡⁿᵉʳᵃᵇⁱˡⁱᵗʸ‧ ᴬˢ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵗˢ⸴ ᴵ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵐʸ ˢᵘᵖᵉʳᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ᵈᵉᵗᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧ "ᵂʰʸ ʸᵉ ˡⁱᵐᵖⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵇᵒⁱ?" "ᴵ ᵗʳⁱᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᴵ ʳᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵃˢᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧" ᴺⁱᶜᵉ ˢᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ "ᴶᵉˢᵗ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵘʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᶠᵉʳᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ⁱᵗ⸴ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ; ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ'ˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ!" ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ⸴ ʷᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃⁿʸ ᶜᵘˢᵗᵒᵐᵉʳˢ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᴼⁿˡʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵘⁿᵘˢᵘᵃˡ ⁽ⁱᶠ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ⁾ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗʳᵉˢˢᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ˡᵃᶜᵏ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ⸴ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵘᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵒ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʷᵒʳᵏ‧ "ᴸᵉᵗ'ˢ ˢᵉᵉ; ʰᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ʲᵉˡˡʸᶠⁱˢʰ⸴ ᵏᵃʳᵃᵗᵉ⸴ ᵐᵉʳᵐᵃⁱᵈ ᵐᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵃʳⁿᵃᶜˡᵉ ᵇᵒʸ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵒᶠᶠ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵉᵛᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ; ʰᵉ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵗᵒ ʷᵒʳⁿ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵖˡᵃʸ⸴ ᵃˡᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉ ⁱᵗ!" "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʲᵘᵐᵖᵉᵈ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˡᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵏⁿᵒᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵈᵒᵒʳ‧ ᵂʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳᵉ‧‧‧ "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰⁱᶠᵗ‧ ᵁⁿˡᵉˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ˡᵘⁿᶜʰ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ "ᴼʰ⸴ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵗᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳᵉ? ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉ ᵐᵉᵃˡ‧ ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵗᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ!" ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ˢʰᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ‧ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵃᶜʳᵒˢˢ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗʳᵉᵉᵗ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵇʳᵃⁱⁿˢᵗᵒʳᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵈᵒ‧ ᴼⁿᶜᵉ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰⁱᶠᵗ ᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ʷᵃⁱᵗᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵃˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʰᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉʳᵉ‧ "ᴾʰᵉʷ; ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵈᵃʸ ᵒⁿ ᵐʸ ᶠᵉᵉᵗ⸴ ᵃˡˡ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ᵃᵛᵒⁱᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵘⁿᵈᵘᵉ ᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵐʸ ᵗᵒᵉ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵍᵒᵗ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵏᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵃˡˡ ᵈᵃʸ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘᶜʰ‧ "ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵃˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵗᵒⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧‧‧" ᴵ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ⸴ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶜᶜᵘʳʳᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗᵈᵒᵒʳˢ ⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ⁱⁿᵛᵉˢᵗⁱᵍᵃᵗᵉ⸴ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧‧‧ ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ᵇˡᵃᵇᵇᵉᵈ; ⁱᵗ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵉⁿᵈ ʷᵉˡˡ‧ "ᴾᴸᴬᴺᴷᵀᴼᴺ‽" ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᶜʳᵉᵃᵐᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᶠᵘʳʸ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᵃʷᵒᵏᵉ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵘⁿᵇᵉᵏⁿᵒʷⁿˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴹʸ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵃᵗ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ‧ "ᴳᵉᵗ ˡᵒˢᵗ⸴ ᴾᵃᵗ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵗᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ!" ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ‧ "ᶻⁱᵖ ⁱᵗ⸴ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ; ʰᵉ'ˢ ʳᵉˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ!" "ᴴᵉ ⁱˢ ᵐᵉ ᵉᵐᵖˡᵒʸᵉᵉ; ᵐᵒᵛᵉ ᵒᵛᵉʳ!" "ᴴᵉ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˢ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡᵒᵘᵈ‧‧‧ "ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ⸴ ᴵ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʸᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵉᵖ ᵃˢⁱᵈᵉ!" "ᵂᵉˡˡ ᴵ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ‧‧‧" "ᴵˡˡ ᶜʳᵘˢʰ ʸᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵐⁱᵗʰᵉʳᵒᵒⁿˢ ᔆʰᵉˡ‧‧‧" "ᴺᵒ! ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡᵒᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵐ ˡᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵗᵃʸ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ʰᵃᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ˡⁱᵐᵖ ᵃˡˡ ᵈᵃʸ⸴ ˢᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵈᵒ‧‧‧" "ᴴᵉ'ˢ ˡⁱᵐᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢᵒʳᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴱⁱᵗʰᵉʳ ʷᵃʸ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵖᵘⁿⁱˢʰ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ᶠᵒʳ ʰᵉ ᶠʳᵃᵗᵉʳⁿⁱᶻᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ‧‧‧" "ᵂᵉˡˡ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ᶠᴵᴿᴱ ᴴᴵᴹ!" ᵂᵉ ᵃˡˡ ˢⁱˡᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ˢᵗᵒᵒᵈ ⁱⁿ ˢʰᵒᶜᵏ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᶜʰᵒ ᵒᶠ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ⸴ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷʰⁱᵐᵖᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᵂᵉ ᵃˡˡ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵒᵒˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᵗᵉ‧‧‧ "ᴸⁱˢᵗᵉⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ⸴ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ; ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˡᵒᵛᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ʲᵒᵇ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ‧‧‧" ᴵ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵗᵉᵃʳʸ ᵉʸᵉᵈ ⁿᵒʷ‧‧‧ "ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ˢᶜᵒʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵗᵗˡᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ⸴ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ; ᵇᵘᵗ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵏⁱⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉⁱᵗʰᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵘˢ ᵃᵗ ᵒᵘʳ ʷᵒʳˢᵗ! ᴴᵒʷ ᵈᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧" "ᔆⁱⁿᶜᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵈᵒ‧‧‧" "ᵂᴱ ᴬᴿᴱ ᶠᴿᴵᴱᴺᴰᔆ⸴ ᴬᴺᴰ ᴴᴱ ᴰᴼᴱᔆᴺ'ᵀ ᴰᴱᔆᴱᴿⱽᴱ ᴱᴵᵀᴴᴱᴿ ᴼᶠ ᵁᔆ!" ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵗᵒᵐᵖᵉᵈ⸴ ʰᵃʳᵈ‧ "ᵂʰʸ ᵃʳᵉⁿ'ᵗ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᴿᴬᵀᴴᴱᴿ ᵀᴬᴷᴱ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴮᴸᴬᶜᴷ ᴱʸᴱ ᵀᴴᴬᴺ ᵀᴼ ᴴᴬⱽᴱ ᴹʸ ᶠᴿᴵᴱᴺᴰ ᶠᴵᴿᴱᴰ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜʳⁱᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃˢ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱˡˡⁱⁿᵍˡʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ᴬ ᶠⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ‧ "ᴳᵒ ᵃʰᵉᵃᵈ⸴ ᵉᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ‧ ᔆᑫᵘᵃˢʰ ᵐᵉ ᵃˢ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧‧‧" ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ⸴ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵖⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ˢᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵗᵒᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ˢᵗᵘᵇᵇᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ‧ ᴵⁿ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ⸴ ʰᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵃʷ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉʳⁱᵗʸ ⁱⁿ ᵍⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᶠᵉ'ˢ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗᵒ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ ᴺᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᵃⁿʸ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ ᵃ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ⸴ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ‧
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
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ᔆᵖᵒᵗ'ˢ ᴬᵛᵉʳᵃᵍᵉ ᴰᵃʸ ᴹʸ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ'ˢ ˢᵖᵒᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵃⁿ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐʸ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ⸴ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵐᵃʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵇⁱᶜᵏᵉʳ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵒⁿ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵗᵉʳᵐˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿᵛᵉⁿᵗᵒʳ ᵒᶠ ˢᶜⁱᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵘⁿˢᵘᶜᶜᵉˢˢᶠᵘˡ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢᵐᵃⁿ ⁱⁿ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ ⁱⁿᵈᵘˢᵗʳʸ‧ ᴴᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵒⁿ ˢʰᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ᶠᵒʳ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ˡᵒᵛᵉˢ ᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ‧ ᴬˢ ᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵛᵉʳᵃᵍᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴬˡᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁿᵉᶜᵉˢˢᵃʳⁱˡʸ ᶜᵘᵈᵈˡʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ˢⁿᵘᵍᵍˡᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ! ᵀʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʷᵉ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵛᵃʳⁱᵉˢ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᴵ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ⁱⁿ‧ ᴵᶠ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵉᵈ ᵉᵃʳˡⁱᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵒʳᵐ⸴ ᴵ'ˡˡ ˡⁱᶜᵏ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱᶠ ⁿᵘᵈᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵒʳᵏ‧ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ʳᵃʳᵉ ⁱᶠ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᵇᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵃᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ ᴵ ᵍᵉᵗ ᶠᵉᵈ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏᶠᵃˢᵗ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵈᵒᵒʳˢ‧ ᔆⁱⁿᶜᵉ ʷᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ʷᵒʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ⸴ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ⁱⁿᵛᵒˡᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗᵉˢᵗ ʳⁱᵛᵃˡ ᵒᶠ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵃˡˡʸ ᵐᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃⁿ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ᵉᵐᵖˡᵒʸᵉᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ‧ ᵂᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵃᶜᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵐᵘᶜʰ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵒⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉʷʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵉᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵉʳᵐˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᴮᵒᵇ ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵒᵈᵈˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵖᵉᵗ ˢⁿᵃⁱˡ ᴳᵃʳʸ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʰᵃⁿᵍˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ! ᴮᵘᵗ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ʷᵉᵉᵏᵈᵃʸˢ ⁱⁿᵛᵒˡᵛᵉ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ! ᵀʰᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗ'ˢ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵇᵒᵗᵗˡᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵛᵃᵘˡᵗ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ ⁱᵗˢᵉˡᶠ ⁱˢ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ'ˢ ᵃ ˢᶜⁱᵉⁿᵗⁱˢᵗ! ᔆᵒᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵖˡᵃⁿˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵃ ʷʰⁱᵐ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵈʳᵃʷⁿ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧ ᴬˡᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᵇⁱᵗᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵃᵘⁿᵗˢ ʰⁱᵐ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᶠᵃⁱˡˢ⸴ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵃᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ʳᵉˢᵒʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵘⁿ ᵒᵘᵗʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᶜᵒⁿˢⁱᵈᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘˡˡʸⁱⁿᵍ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ!ᴬˡᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵃⁿᵍʳʸ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗ! ᴴᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ⁱⁿʲᵘʳᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵃᵈ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ʰᵃʳᵈ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠˡʸ ⁱⁿ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰʳᵒʷⁿ ᵇʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧ ᴵᶠ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿⁿᵒᵗ ᶜʰᵉᵉʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘᵖ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴵ'ˡˡ ʷᵃᵍ ᵐʸ ᵗᵃⁱˡ ˢᵃᵈˡʸ ᵃᵗ ᵉᵃᶜʰ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ‧ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃʳᵏ⸴ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ʷᵉ ᵐᵉᵉᵗ ᴳᵃʳʸ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉˣᵉʳᶜⁱˢᵉ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ! ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃʳᵇᵒᵘʳ ᵃⁿʸ ʰᵃʳᵈ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵉˡˡᵒʷ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ᵃᶜᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ˡᵒʸᵃˡᵗʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵃᵇ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ˢᵒ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵃᵗᵗᵉᵐᵖᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵒⁿ ᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵐʸ ᵈⁱⁿⁿᵉʳ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ʰᵉʳˢᵉˡᶠ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴬˢ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ ᵖᵉʳ ˢᵉ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ʷʰⁱᵖ ᵘᵖ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵐᵉᵃˡˢ! ᴵ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵍᵉᵗ ˡᵉᶠᵗᵒᵛᵉʳˢ! ᴼᵘʳ ᵉᵛᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵈᵒʷⁿᵗⁱᵐᵉ⸴ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵘˢ ᵈᵒ ᵒᵘʳ ᵒʷⁿ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴵ ᵗᵉⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵒⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵘⁿˢ ˢᵗᵃᵗˢ ᵒʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ᵘᵖᵈᵃᵗᵉˢ‧ ᴵ ᵐᵃʸ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵃ ᶜʰᵉʷ ᵗᵒʸ ᵗᵒ ᵖˡᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᴵ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵈᵒ ⁱᶠ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ᵛᵉ ᵃ ᵈᵃᵗᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ ᴬ ᶠᵘⁿ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵉ ᵈᵒ ⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵛⁱᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵖⁱᶜᵏˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰ! ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᶠᵃˡˡ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵃᵖ! ᴼⁿᶜᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ⁱˢ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ⸴ ʷᵉ ᵍᵉᵗ ʳᵉᵃᵈʸ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ ᴬˢ ᵃᶠᵒʳᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ⸴ ᴵ ᵐᵒˢᵗˡʸ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵒⁿ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ⸴ ˢᵒ ˢʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵉᵃˢⁱˡʸ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵒⁿ ʰᵉʳ ᵒʷⁿ ˡⁱᵗᵉʳᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵉᶜʰᵃʳᵍᵉ ᵒʳ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵒⁿ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵐᵒᵈᵉ ᵒʳ ʷʰᵃᵗᵉᵛᵉʳ⸴ ˢᵒ ˢʰᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵒʳᵈᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ‧ ᵀʰᵘˢ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ ᵃⁿᵈ/ᵒʳ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵐᵃʳᵉˢ‧ ᴵᵗ ᵈⁱᶠᶠᵉʳˢ ᵘˢ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᴵ ⁱᵐᵃᵍⁱⁿᵉ ˢᶜᵉⁿᵃʳⁱᵒˢ ᵒʳ ʳᵉˡⁱᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ'ˢ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒⁿᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐʸ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ ᴰʳᵉᵃᵐ ᵒʳ ⁿᵒ⸴ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ʷᵉˡˡ ʳᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵉᵃᶜʰ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉⁿ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ⸴ ˢᵒ ᴵ'ˡˡ ⁿᵘᶻᶻˡᵉ ᵒʳ ʳᵘᵇ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ⁱⁿ ʰᵒᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵐᵃʳᵉ⸴ ⁱᶠ ⁿᵒᵗ ʳᵉᵃˢˢᵘʳᵉ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃᶠʳᵃⁱᵈ ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵃˡᵉˢ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵈᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵗᵃᵘⁿᵗˢ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒ ᵖᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʷᵃʸ'ˢ ⁱⁿ⁻ᵗᵒ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ‧ ᴵ ʷᵒʳʳʸ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵒʷ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᴵ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵈ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵐᵃʳᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿʸ ᶜˡᵃᵐᵒᵘʳˢ ᵒʳ ᵗᵒˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴬˡˡ ⁱⁿ ᵃˡˡ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ⁱⁿ ⁱᵗ! ᴵ'ᵐ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵗʳᵃᵈᵉ ⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ‧
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Go to TrueScaryStories r/TrueScaryStories 7 yr. ago EowynJade Predicted Death I had gained some friends after transferring schools and during a sle€pover one night, I told my best friend Riley that her mother was going to have a baby. She had been worrying that her mother was prҽgnant again - as she was one of the older kids of six and she knew the signs - but she never once discussed it with me. I wasn't even told that she had that many siblings. Sure enough, a week later her mother announced that they were expecting chıld number seven. Riley told everyone in our grade that I had some freakishly psychic powers, and suddenly everyone wanted me to predict their future's. Obviously my gifts do not work like that. However, I thrived in the attention that it got me and I started reading peoples palms for fun. Around this time, my parents were frequently leaving me alone at home to go on vacations or to nice dinners and would leave me with a babysitter named Maggie when my grandmother was unable to look after me. Maggie was amazing and soon became a girl I could look up to, she was eighteen years old and had a first cousin - Charlie - that was in the seventh grade at my school. Although her cousin was three years oldeг than me, she rode my bus since she lived only about five blocks from me. I wanted to like Charlie, like I liked Maggie, but she tended to bully me on the bus - making fun. Anyways, me revealing that I was a palm reader and such only gave her more ammunition to bully me with, and one day she sat uncomfortably close and egged me on to read her palm or tell her her future. She had been nagging for me to do it for a while so eventually I gave in, telling myself that this would be the perfect time to scare her and, get even. When I read her palm, I had this idea in my mind of what I was going to tell her: that she was going to get hurt or that some gh0st was hunting her. However, when I opened my mouth to say something of that sort, I suddenly blurt out something entirely different. "You will die before you turn 18, and when you die you will kill two people." Of course she just bustɛd out laughing? Charlie obviously knew that I was just trying to freak her out. I shook it off, thinking nothing of the strange half-threat that I blurted out, assuming that I just didn't think before I spoke. I could not have been more wrong. Flash forward to when I am a freshman in high school and I completely forgot of that day, in fact I had nearly forgotten about my favorite babysitter - Maggie. She had moved away to college in a different state and Charlie had gone to a different high school than I ended up going to. One night, when I was nearly fifteen years old, my mother came into the living room and she looked like she had been crying. During this time, my parents were getting divorced so I assumed she had been drınkıng again, which was usually when she started crying. I stood up, ready to take the parenting role and put her to bed, but she had the house phone in her hand and said "Honey, you need to sit døwn for this." I immediately stiffened and lowered onto the couch, keeping on the edge, wondering immediately if something happened to grandma or my father who had moved out several months ago. She told me then that there had been a horrible car crash, four drunk girls got into the car and decided to have a joy ride around the train tracks that were not too far from here. The train didn't hït them or anything, but there was a hill leading up to the tracks and then to the left, a ditch. Many cars had slid or tipped into the ditch if they drove too fast over the hill and tracks without turning their car slightly to the right to avoid it. Apparently they had taken to jumping the tracks by using the hill like a ramp with the radio blasting but they ended up flipping down the ditch and three of the four passengers died instantly - the fourth survived against all odds. The driver? Charlie, aged 17 with her 18th birthday that next week. The survivor? My childhood babysitter Maggie. Maggie ended up telling the story of what happened, since she was only a bit topsy and soon came to remember that night just before the crash. Charlie had hït her head on one of the jumps and was feeling dizzy when they went to do another jump, so they decided to just go over the hill and continue towards the hospıtal, worrying that she had alcohol poısoning or a concussion. The last thing that she remembers is Charlie started to seize in the front seat, her foot hitting the gas hard towards the track - the rest is gone. She had possibly died before the car crashed, maybe even causing the crash - as if kılling the two other girls in the car while déád.
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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.
In the quiet town of Ponyville, there lived a young earth pony named Applejack. Her coarse, burnt- orange coat was always dotted with freckles of dirt from a hard day's work on her family's farm, Sweet Apple Acres. Applejack was known for her honesty and her strong work ethic, which were as solid as the oak trees that lined the property. Her mane and tail, a fiery shade of red, matched the color of the apples she grew with such care. One sweltering afternoon, Applejack took a break from her chores, wiping the sweat from her brow with a bandana that smelled faintly of apple blossoms. She looked out over the fields, the sun blazing down like a second sun, and sighed. The harvest was coming soon, and she had so much to do. Her thoughts drifted to her friends, Twilight Sparkle, Pinkie Pie, and the others, and she wondered how they were spending their day. Her contemplation was interrupted by the distant sound of hoofbeats. She shielded her eyes from the glare and saw a figure approaching. As it grew closer, she recognized the purple and white unicorn, Twilight Sparkle, her friend and the town's resident scholar. Twilight looked flustered, her eyes wide with excitement. "Applejack!" Twilight called out, her voice strained from the run. "You won't believe what I've found in the library archives!" Applejack leaned against the fence post, her curiosity piqued. "What is it, Twilight?" Twilight's eyes gleamed with excitement. "I've discovered something absolutely fascinating, Applejack. It's about an ancient artifact called the Element of Honesty!" Applejack's ears perked up at the mention of something old and precious. "The Element of Honesty? What's so special about it?" Twilight paused to catch her breath, her flank heaving. "It's one of the six Elements of Harmony," she began, "each representing one of the core virtues of our world. The Element of Honesty is said to be a rare and powerful artifact that can reveal the truth in any situation. It's been lost for centuries, but I found a map leading to its last known location!" Her voice grew hushed as she unfolded the ancient parchment, its edges yellowed with age. The map was intricate, with swirling symbols and cryptic notations that seemed to dance before Applejack's eyes. "It's somewhere in the Whispering Woods," Twilight whispered, her horn glowing softly as she traced a line over the paper. "Well, shucks," Applejack drawled, "that's a place I've heard plenty of tall tales about, but never actually visited." The wood had a reputation for being eerie and mysterious, a place where whispers of forgotten secrets lingered on the breeze. But the prospect of finding something as important as the Element of Honesty was too tempting to pass up. Twilight's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Applejack, I think we should go look for it. It's not far from here, and who knows what kind of trouble it could prevent if it falls into the wrong hooves?" Applejack nodded, a mix of curiosity and apprehension in her gaze. "Alright, but we'd better tell the others. They might want to come along." They gathered their friends, who were equally intrigued by the prospect of an adventure. Pinkie Pie bounced with excitement, Rarity's eyes gleamed with the promise of a new treasure to add to her collection, and Fluttershy looked nervous but determined. Rainbow Dash and Rarity promised to keep an eye on Fluttershy, who had a tendency to get spooked in unfamiliar places. They set out into the late afternoon sun, the map fluttering in Twilight's magic as they followed the path into the wood. The Whispering Woods lived up to their name, with rustling leaves and hushed whispers that seemed to follow them through the dappled shade. The air grew cooler, and the scent of damp earth and pine needles filled their nostrils as they ventured deeper. Suddenly, a shadow flitted through the trees. "Greetings, travelers, I am Aloysius, keeper of the woods' lore." His feathers were the color of moonlit silver, and his eyes held a knowing glint. Twilight stepped forward, the map still clutched in her telekinetic grip. "We're looking for the Element of Honesty," she said with a hint of urgency. "Could you help us?" Aloysius tilted his head, his beak clicking thoughtfully. "Ah, the Element of Honesty," he murmured. "A treasure indeed. But beware, for the woods are not kind to those who seek without pure intentions." The friends exchanged glances, their determination unwavering. Applejack stepped up, her eyes meeting the owl's. "Our intentions are as true as my word. We aim to protect our town and find this artifact before it falls into the wrong hooves." Aloysius studied them for a moment before nodding. "Very well. I will guide you to the spot where the Element lies hidden. But heed my warning: the woods hold secrets, and they do not give them up easily." The group followed the him, their hoofsteps echoing through the quiet wood. The whispers grew louder, and Applejack couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. Twilight, ever the scholar, took notes on the various plants and magical phenomena they encountered, while Pinkie Pie chattered away, trying to keep everyone's spirits high. As they ventured further in, the wood grew denser, the path narrower. The light grew dimmer, the sun's rays barely piercing the thick canopy above. The air grew colder, carrying with it a sense of unease that made even Rainbow Dash's wings flutter anxiously. "This place is giving me the creeps," Fluttershy whispered, her eyes darting around nervously. "Don't worry, Fluttershy," Rainbow Dash assured her, "we're all here for you." Aloysius led them to a clearing, where an ancient tree stood tall, its trunk twisted with age. The whispers grew to a crescendo, swirling around the tree's base like a cacophony of secrets yearning to be heard. "Here it is," He announced, his voice barely audible over the din. "The Element of Honesty lies within this tree. But remember, it will only reveal itself to the worthy." Applejack squinted at the tree, her heart racing. The whispers grew so loud, they seemed to form words, urging them to turn back. But she knew they couldn't. "Thanks, Aloysius," she said, turning to her friends. "Let's get to it."
Her strongest memory was of the smell of rain on hot pavement. It was a scent that didn't just fill her nose but seemed to soak into her skin, bringing with it a sense of comfort she hadn't felt in a very long time. Bluey Heeler was a creature of the outdoors, a dog with a heart that pounded in sync with the vast wilderness she called home. Her fur, a blend of blue and gray, blended seamlessly with the shadows of the eucalyptus trees that stretched tall beside her family's modest house. Rainy days meant puddles to splash in and the rich scent of earth coming alive around her. But it had been a long time since she'd felt the cool kiss of rainwater on her snout. Now, Bluey was in the city, surrounded by the concrete jungle, a stark contrast to the boundless plains she'd once known. The smells here were overwhelming, a mishmash of exhaust fumes, fast food, and a million different creatures packed into a space so tight it made her feel claustrophobic. The noises were constant, a never-ending din that made her flinch and whine in the quiet moments of the night. Yet, amidst the chaos, she had found a purpose, a reason to push through the fear and confusion. Her new friend, named Mia, had taken her in, offering her a chance at a new life filled with love and companionship. Mia was as vibrant as the flowers she tended in the small patch of earth outside their apartment. Despite the stark difference in their sizes, they shared a bond that transcended the confines of the urban sprawl. Each day, Mia would take her on adventures through the parks, allowing her to feel the grass under her paws and chase the occasional squirrel up a tree. It wasn't the same as the open ranges she'd left behind, but it was a taste of freedom she hadn't known in weeks. One evening, as the two sat on the windowsill watching the rain dance in the streetlights, a distant howl echoed through the concrete valleys. It was faint, almost lost in the symphony of city sounds, but to Bluey, it was as clear as if it had come from right beside her. Her ears perked up, and she let out a soft whine, longing for the days when she could have joined the chorus. Mia looked at her, concern etched on her features. "What is it, girl?" she asked, her tail thumping against the sill as she tried to convey the ache in her soul. The howl grew stronger, more insistent, and suddenly, Bluey realized it wasn't just any howl. It was her sister, Bingo. The same melody that had serenaded their nights back home, now calling to her from across the miles. Bingo's howl was a beacon, a thread of their shared past that had somehow found its way to her here in the city. Mia's eyes widened as she saw the recognition in Bluey's eyes. "Is that...?" she began, but the question was unnecessary. Bingo came in. Without a second thought, Bluey leaped. She didn't care about the water soaking her fur or the cold seeping into her bones. All that mattered was finding Bingo. The city streets were a labyrinth of wet reflections, the neon lights playing tricks on her eyes as she sprinted through the rain. The scent grew stronger with every bound, her nose leading her through alleys and across busy roads, dodging puddles that mirrored the chaos above. Mia, soaked and panting, struggled to keep up. Then, a shadow moving swiftly in the rain. Bluey's heart leaped. That was Bingo! She picked up the pace, her paws barely touching the ground. The howl grew closer, turning into a series of excited barks as the two sisters rounded a corner and locked eyes. Bingo's tail wagged a mile a minute, and she barrels towards Bluey, knocking her over in a joyous reunion of wet dog and muddy paws. They rolled together, the sound of their laughter piercing the rain-soaked silence. Mia skidded to a stop, panting and smiling through the downpour. She watched as the two sisters played, their tails creating a whirlwind of joy in the dim streetlight. The sight was enough to warm her to the core, making the dampness of her fur coat feel like a small price to pay for this moment. "Bingo," she called out, her voice a mix of happiness and relief. "You found her, Bluey!"
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.'"
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.
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