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Copy & Paste Cutt1ng Emojis & Symbols December 31, 1857A PASSENGER’S HEAD CUT OFF ON A S

December 31, 1857 A PASSENGER’S HEAD CUT OFF ON A STEAM-BOAT. A New York paper says : -- An inquest was held on board the steam-boat North America on the body of a man who met with a sudden and terrible death on board the boat during its passage on Thursday from Rondoubt to this city. The deceased came on board the steamer at Rondout(sic) on Thursday, and paid his passage to this city, he being somewhat intoxicated at the time. About half-an-hour after the boat left the Rondoubt, the body of deceased was discovered in the crank room, and the head completely severed from the body lying near it, but horribly crushed and mutilated. In one of his pockets was found a bottle of brandy. http://www.irelandoldnews.com/Cavan/1857/DEC.html
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niw yeht semitemos dnA su edisni evil yehT stsohg osla ,laer era sretsnoM stsohG dna sretsnoM -seirotsatsapypeerc- ~

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)oot yako si eltit eht ni ti gnittuP( !tsop eht fo gninnigeb eht ta denraw eb dluohs tsop eht ni denoitnem scipoT gnireggirT ynA .tnetnoc hcus htiw tcaretni uoy woh no eraweb ,sronim ļøŽāš° llew sa srewollof rehto ruo ot tub ,su ot ylno ton gnireggirt eb nac siht sa esuba ,sredrosid gnitae ,mrah fles ot detaler gnihtyna etirw ton lliw ew ļøŽāš° oga shtnom 9 detsop ! SELUR

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An Egg September 1, 2012 It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a quick passing. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail ... An Egg Strange and Unexplained / 5 minutes of reading Estimated reading time — 4 minutes It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. You’re so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me. And that’s when you met me. ā€œWhat… what happened?ā€ You asked. ā€œWhere am I?ā€ ā€œYou passed,ā€ I said, matter-of-factly. No point mincing words. ā€œThere was a…a truck and it was skiddingā€¦ā€ ā€œYup.ā€ I said ā€œI… I’m gone?ā€ ā€œYup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone passes.ā€ I said. You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. ā€œWhat is this place?ā€ You asked. ā€œIs this the afterlife?ā€ ā€œMore or less,ā€ I said. ā€œAre you god?ā€ You asked. ā€œYup.ā€ I replied. ā€œI’m God.ā€ ā€œMy kids… my wife,ā€ you said. ā€œWhat about them?ā€ ā€œWill they be alright?ā€ ā€œThat what I like to see,ā€ I said. ā€œYou just passed and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.ā€ You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like a God. Some vague authority figure. ā€œDon’t worry,ā€ I said. ā€œThey’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.ā€ ā€œOh,ā€ you said. ā€œSo what happens now? Do I go to the afterlife or something?ā€ ā€œNeither,ā€ I said. ā€œYou’ll be reincarnated.ā€ You followed along as we strolled in the void. ā€œWhere are we going?ā€ ā€œNowhere in particular,ā€ I said. ā€œIt’s just nice to walk while we talk.ā€ ā€œSo what’s the point, then?ā€ You asked. ā€œWhen I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.ā€ ā€œNot so!ā€ I said. ā€œYou have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.ā€ I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. ā€œYour soul is more magnificent, beautiful and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part or yourself into the vessel and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.ā€ ā€œYou’ve been a human for the last 34 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we stay out here for longer, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point doing that between each life.ā€ ā€œHow many times have I been reincarnated, then?ā€ ā€œOh, lots. Lots and lots. And into lots of different lives.ā€ I said. ā€œThis time around you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 A.D.ā€ ā€œWait, what?ā€ You stammered. ā€œYou’re sending me back in time?ā€ ā€œWell, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.ā€ You pondered. ā€œBut wait. If i get reincarnated to other places in time, could I have interacted with myself at some point?ā€ ā€œSure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own timespan you don’t even know it’s happening.ā€ I looked in your eye. ā€œThe meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.ā€ ā€œYou mean mankind? You want us to mature?ā€ ā€œNo. just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature, and become a larger and greater intellectā€ ā€œJust me? What about everyone else?ā€ ā€œThere is no one else,ā€ I said. ā€œIn this universe, there’s just you, and me.ā€ You stared blankly at me. ā€œBut all the people on earthā€¦ā€ ā€œAll you. Different incarnations of you.ā€ ā€œWait. I’m everyone!?ā€ ā€œNow you’re getting it.ā€ ā€œI’m every human who ever lived?ā€ ā€œOr whom will ever live, yes.ā€ ā€œI’m Abraham Lincoln?ā€ ā€œAnd you’re John Wilkes Booth, too.ā€ I added. ā€œI’m a criminal?ā€ you said, appalled. ā€œAnd you’re the victims, too.ā€ ā€œI’m a leader?ā€ ā€œAnd you’re everyone who followed you.ā€ You fell silent. ā€œEvery time you victimized someone,ā€ I said, ā€œYou were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.ā€ ā€œWhy?ā€ You asked me. ā€œWhy do all this?ā€ ā€œBecause someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.ā€ ā€œWhoa.ā€ you said, incredulous. ā€œYou mean I’m a god?ā€ ā€œNo. Not yet. You’re as a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.ā€ ā€œSo the whole universe,ā€ you said. ā€œIt’s justā€¦ā€ ā€œAn egg of sorts.ā€ I answered. ā€œNow it’s time for you to move on to your next life.ā€ And with that, I sent you on your way. Credit: Andy Weir
The Wrong Room April 1, 2014 You get back to your apartment after a long day's work and you want to get inside and rest. You were about to pull out your keys and unlock the door, but you notice it's open ... The Wrong Room April 1, 2014 / Dark Comedy, Humor, and Parodies, Deaths, Murders, and Disappearances / parodies / 2 minutes of reading Estimated reading time — < 1 minute You get back to your apartment after a long day’s work and you want to get inside and rest. You were about to pull out your keys and unlock the door, but you notice it’s open. Turning the doorknob and stepping inside, You notice something different. You stand in the doorway trying to figure it out. then it hits you. this isn’t your room. As you turn and leave, something catches your eye. There is a man hunched over a dish of flesh, eating it with his bare hands, tearing into it as a wild animal would with prey. Red dripped down the side of his mouth, and the smell that emanated from it was sickening. You were paralysed by the sight. Unconsciously, you start cover your nose and mouth. This accidentally bumps your elbow against the doorway. You freeze. He stopped eating there was something wrong. Then he looked up and started searching for the source of the noise. His eyes scanned the room till they found you. Your legs start moving on their own, and you find yourself running, running away from that room, and the horrors within it. ~~~ The man silently stands up, locks the door, sits back down, grabs another slice of pizza, and mutters quietly to himself: ā€œCrazy vegansā€. Credit To – Walrus King
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SEP 27 A 15-year old boy in a small town sat down at his computer after getting home from school one day. He turned it on and logged into an instant messaging program, and was then surprised to receive a message from a classmate of his, who had been absent that day. It consisted of two words; ā€œplease comeā€. Confused, the boy sent a reply, asking why he’d been absent that day. After two more messages and fifteen minutes with no response, he decided to get on his bike and head over to his classmate’s house. It was a short ride, only about five minutes away. When he got to the house, he found the door was unlocked. The boy slammed the door closed, and immediately called 911 on his cell phone. When the police arrived, they found three corpses, as well as tracks leading away from the house from the back door. The forensics report concluded that the entire family, the boy’s classmate and his parents, had been killed sometime the previous night.
The Bank Robber The bank I work at was robbed again last night. It’s been hit three times this month and we’re sure it’s the same person. Every single time, the guy has vanished without a trace. It’s almost as if he completely disappears. There’s no way he should be able to get away so quickly and without leaving any evidence. Last night when the robbery happened, I looked him in the eye for the first time. ā€œWhy do you keep doing this?ā€ I asked him, searching his dark eyes for an answer. He stared at me coldly from behind his ski mask and replied ā€œA man’s got to eat.ā€ I’ve thought about it long and hard but I’ve made up my mind: I’m never going back to work at that blood bank again. 8 YEARS AGO
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.sruoh rof tesolc sih ni gnitiaw neeb ev'I ;deticxe os m'I .ti si sihT .rood eht gninepo s'eH .nwod mlac sevren ,esaelP .gnikahs pots ,esaelP .em raeh nac eh erus m'I .ylivaeh os gnihtaerb m'I .moor eht edistuo thgir s'eH ."htabdoolb ehT" ,"esuoh ni dnuof naM" .gniyas eb lliw enoyreve tahw ees ydaerla nac I .em sdnif eh litnu gnol eb t'now tI .sriats eht pu gnimoc mih raeh I .gnicar si traeh ym hO .kcohs ni eb tsum I .taht fo yna rebmemer t'nac I tuB .tesolc siht ni yawa rewoc I .flesym demra ev'I esuaceb evah tsum I .kdI ?edisni emoc mih draeh I fi rebmemer I naC .sriats nwod dnuora gnivom mih raeh nac I !ym hO regnartS nwonknU 3232ydwoh-niatpac oga .rh 32 seirotsyracstrohs/r

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Pierwszy dzień szkoły Każdy kocha pierwszy dzień w szkole, prawda? Nowy rok, nowa klasa, nowi przyjaciele. Ekscytujący dzień, wyposażony w funkcję i dreszczyk nieznanego, zanim wszystko zostanie pogrzebane przez szarą rzeczywistość i zabezpieczenie z niej smutki. Jednak ja lubię pierwszy dzień w szkole z innej przyczyny. Trzeba coś wyznać - posiadam posiadanie moc. Kiedy zobaczę na innych ludzi, zobaczę... aure. Kolorowa otoczka wokół każdego człowieka, której barwa jest wskazana, jak długo dana osoba będzie żyć. Wyniki moich rówieśników ma, szkodliwe poświatę - oznacza to, że są jeszcze straty czasu. Niestety, duża duża grupa z nich posiada żółto - odmiana aury. To oznaka, że ​​umrą w wypadku samochodowym, albo za wystąpienie awarii. powiedzą ludzie, że odeszli przed wystąpieniem. Prawdziwa zabawa zaczyna się, kiedy aura jest czerwona. zagrożenie każdego dnia, gdy widzę kogoś z taką otoczką, to ludzie, którzy stąpają po linii. Zostają zamordowani, albo zabiją siebie. To takie ekscytujące widzenie ich i wiedzą, że ich czas jest policzony. Zawsze przed następną nową szkołą, która pojawi się na miejscu bardzo wcześnie, będzie możliwa do poznania losów moich koleżanek i wyposażenia z klasy. Pierwszy chłopak, który wyszedł do klasy po mnie, emanował pulsującą czerwienią. Stłumiłem uśmieszek. Szkoda stary, szkoda! Ale następna osoba wchodząca do klasy posiada ten sam, bijący po wejściu, krwisty kolor. Po chwili wyszedł nasz nauczyciel. Zamknął drzwi na klucz, od środka. Jego aura była intensywnie zielona...
The Portraits (a.k.a. The Cabin in the Woods) Famous Creepypasta, Locations and Sites, Nature and the Outdoors / April 20, 2009 / 1 minute of reading There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage... April 20, 2009 / Famous Creepypasta, Locations and Sites, Nature and the Outdoors / anonymously authored, cabins, camping, creepypasta classics, forests, hunters, mysteries, sites, twist endings, woods / 1 minute of reading Estimated reading time — < 1 minute There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After what seemed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night. He approached and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning. As he looked around, he was surprised to see the walls adorned by many portraits, all painted in incredible detail. Without exception, they appeared to be staring down at him, their features twisted into looks of hatred. Staring back, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Making a concerted effort to ignore the many hateful faces, he turned to face the wall, and exhausted, he fell in to a restless sleep. Face down in an unfamiliar bed, he turned blinking in unexpected sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had not portraits, only windows.
MAR 01 In Berlin, after World War II, money was short, supplies were tight, and it seemed like everyone was hungry. At that time, people were telling the tale of a young woman who saw a blind man picking his way through a crowd. The two started to talk. The man asked her for a favor: could she deliver the letter to the address on the envelope? Well, it was on her way home, so she agreed. She started out to deliver the message, when she turned around to see if there was anything else the blind man needed. But she spotted him hurrying through the crowd without his smoked glasses or white cane. She was, naturally, suspicious, so she went to the police. When the police paid a visit to the address on the envelope, they made a gruesome discovery, three butchers had been where the envelope was addressed to. And what was in the envelope the man gave to the woman? A note, saying simply ā€œThis is the last one I am sending you today.ā€.
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For the love of nature and landscapes 🌿: 1. Norway šŸ‡³šŸ‡“ 2. Canada šŸ‡ØšŸ‡¦ 3. Chile šŸ‡ØšŸ‡± 4. Switzerland šŸ‡ØšŸ‡­ 5. Nepal šŸ‡³šŸ‡µ
Search the dictionary "horror" meaning in All languages combined Noun [English] IPA: /ˈhɒɹ.ə/ [New-England, Received-Pronunciation], /ˈhɔɹ.ɚ/ [Canada, General-American], /ˈhɑɹ.ɚ/ [New-York-City, Philadelphia], /ˈhɔɚ/ (note: some accents) Audio: en-us-horror.ogg ā–¶ļø [US] Forms: horrors [plural] [Show additional information ā–¼] (countable, uncountable) An intense distressing emotion of fear or repugnance. Tags: countable, uncountable Categories (topical): Fear Translations (intense distressing fear or repugnance): tmerr [masculine] (Albanian), Ų±ŁŲ¹Ł’ŲØ (ruŹ•b) [masculine] (Arabic), Ų®ŁŽŁˆŁ’Ł (įøµawf) [masculine] (Arabic), Õ½Õ”Ö€Õ½Õ”Öƒ (sarsapŹæ) (Armenian), Õ”Õ° (ah) (Armenian), vahimə (Azerbaijani), dəhşət (Azerbaijani), жах (žax) [masculine] (Belarusian), страх (strax) [masculine] (Belarusian), ভয় (bhoįŗ) (Bengali), у́жас (úžas) [masculine] (Bulgarian), страх (strah) [masculine] (Bulgarian), horror [masculine] (Catalan), ꁐꀖ (kĒ’ngbù) (Chinese Mandarin), 恐懼 (Chinese Mandarin), ꁐꃧ (kĒ’ngjù) (Chinese Mandarin), hrÅÆza [feminine] (Czech), gru (Danish), rƦdsel (Danish), gruwel [masculine] (Dutch), Ƶudus (Estonian), kauhu (Finnish), kammo (Finnish), hirveys (Finnish), horreur [masculine] (French), effroi [masculine] (French), horror [masculine] (Galician), įƒ”įƒįƒØįƒ˜įƒœįƒ”įƒšįƒ”įƒ‘įƒ (saÅ”ineleba) (Georgian), Angst [feminine] (German), Furcht [feminine] (German), Horror [masculine] (German), Grauen [neuter] (German), Greuel [masculine] (German), šŒæšƒš†šŒ¹šŒ»šŒ¼šŒ“šŒ¹ (usfilmei) [feminine] (Gothic), Ļ„ĻĻŒĪ¼ĪæĻ‚ (trómos) [masculine] (Greek), ×Öµ×™×žÖø×” (Ć©ima) [feminine] (Hebrew), दहशत (dahśat) [feminine] (Hindi), आतंक (ātaį¹…k) [masculine] (Hindi), भय (bhay) [masculine] (Hindi), borzalom (Hungarian), ógn [feminine] (Icelandic), horor (Indonesian), uafĆ”s [masculine] (Irish), orrore [masculine] (Italian), ꁐꀖ (kyōfu) (alt: ćć‚‡ć†ćµ) (Japanese), ꁐ悌 (osore) (alt: 恊恝悌) (Japanese), Ņ›Š¾Ń€Ņ›Ń‹Š½Ń‹Ńˆ (qorqynyş) (Kazakh), įž—įŸįžšįžœįž¶įžšįž˜įŸ’įž˜įžŽįŸ (pheirĕəʼviərɑm) (Khmer), ź³µķ¬ (gongpo) (alt: ꁐꀖ) (Korean), ė¬“ģ„œģ›€ (museoum) (Korean), 두려움 (duryeoum) (Korean), ŠŗŠ¾Ń€ŠŗŃƒŠ½ŃƒŃ‡ (korkunuc) (Kyrgyz), horror [masculine] (Latin), Å”ausmas [feminine] (Latvian), siaubas (Lithuanian), Å”iurpas (Lithuanian), у́жас (úžas) [masculine] (Macedonian), страв (strav) [masculine] (Macedonian), аймшиг (ajmÅ”ig) (Mongolian), gru [feminine] (Norwegian BokmĆ„l), redsel [masculine] (Norwegian BokmĆ„l), orror (Occitan), ōga [masculine] (Old English), دهؓت (dahÅ”at) [masculine] (Pashto), وحؓت (vahÅ”at) (Persian), دهؓت (dahÅ”at) (Persian), Grul [feminine] (Plautdietsch), groza [feminine] (Polish), strach [masculine] (Polish), horror [masculine] (Portuguese), groază [feminine] (Romanian), oroare [feminine] (Romanian), spaimă [feminine] (Romanian), у́жас (úžas) [masculine] (Russian), страх (strax) [masculine] (Russian), Š±Š¾ŃĢŠ·Š½ŃŒ (bojĆ”znʹ) [feminine] (Russian), ą¤˜ą„‹ą¤° (ghora) [masculine] (Sanskrit), ŃƒĢŠ¶Š°Ģ„Ń [Cyrillic, masculine] (Serbo-Croatian), ȕžās [Roman, masculine] (Serbo-Croatian), hrĆ“za [feminine] (Slovak), groza [feminine] (Slovene), horror [masculine] (Spanish), skrƤck [common-gender] (Swedish), fruktan [common-gender] (Swedish), fasa [common-gender] (Swedish), Š“Š°Ņ³ŃˆŠ°Ń‚ (dahÅ”at) (Tajik), ваҳшаг (vahÅ”ag) (Tajik), Š“Ó™Ņ»ŃˆÓ™Ń‚ (dƤhşät) (Tatar), ŠŗŃƒŃ€ŠŗŃ‹Š½Ń‹Ń‡ (qurkınıƧ) (Tatar), empelƱe (Tocharian B), korku (Turkish), dehşet (Turkish), elhenƧlik (Turkmen), жах (žax) [masculine] (Ukrainian), страх (strax) [masculine] (Ukrainian), دہؓت (dahśat) [feminine] (Urdu), Ł‚ŁˆŲ±Ł‚Ū‡Ł†Ś† (qorqunch) (Uyghur), qoŹ»rquv (Uzbek), dahshat (Uzbek), sį»± khiįŗæp (Vietnamese), sį»± ghĆŖ rợn (Vietnamese) [Show more ā–¼] (countable, uncountable) Something horrible; that which excites horror. Tags: countable, uncountable Categories (topical): Fear [Show more ā–¼] (countable, uncountable) Intense dislike or aversion; an abhorrence. Tags: countable, uncountable Categories (topical): Fear Translations (intense dislike or aversion): отвраще́ние (otvraÅ”tĆ©nie) [neuter] (Bulgarian), kammo (Finnish), inho (Finnish), dĆ©goĆ»t (French), aversion (French), отвраще́ние (otvraÅ”ÄĆ©nije) [neuter] (Russian), омерзе́ние (omerzĆ©nije) [neuter] (Russian) [Show more ā–¼] (uncountable) A genre of fiction designed to evoke a feeling of fear and suspense. Tags: uncountable Categories (topical): Horror, Fear, Genres, Horror, Literary genres [Show more ā–¼] (countable) An individual work in this genre. Tags: countable Translations (literary genre): жах (žax) [masculine] (Belarusian), у́жаси (úžasi) [masculine, plural] (Bulgarian), terror (Catalan), ꁐꀖ (kĒ’ngbù) (Chinese Mandarin), horor (Czech), kauhu (Finnish), kauhukirjallisuus (Finnish), Horror [masculine] (German), ćƒ›ćƒ©ćƒ¼ (horā) (Japanese), 호러 (horeo) (Korean), ź³µķ¬ (gongpo) (alt: ꁐꀖ) (Korean), у́жаси (úžasi) [masculine, plural] (Macedonian), хо́рор (hóror) [masculine] (Macedonian), horror [masculine] (Portuguese), у́жас (úžas) [masculine] (Russian), ŃƒŠ¶Š°ĢŃŃ‚ŠøŠŗ (užÔstik) [colloquial, masculine] (Russian), хо́ррор (xórror) [masculine, neologism] (Russian), skrƤck [common-gender] (Swedish), жах (žax) [masculine] (Ukrainian) [Show more ā–¼] (countable, colloquial) A nasty or ill-behaved person; a rascal or terror. Tags: colloquial, countable Categories (topical): Fear [Show more ā–¼] (informal) An intense anxiety or a nervous depression; often the horrors. Tags: countable, informal, uncountable Categories (topical): Fear Translations (informal: intense anxiety): tƤpinƤt [plural] (Finnish) [Show more ā–¼] (in the plural, informal) Delirium tremens. Tags: countable, in-plural, informal, uncountable [Show more ā–¼] The following are not (yet) sense-disambiguated Synonyms: nightmare, horrour (english: hypercorrect spelling or archaic) [UK] Hypernyms: speculative fiction Related terms: horrendous, horrible, horrid, horrific, horrifical, horrification, horrify [Show more ā–¼] Noun [Galician] IPA: [É”Ėˆroɾ] Forms: horrores [plural] [Show additional information ā–¼] horror Tags: masculine Synonyms: espanto, pavor, terror Related terms: horrorizar, horroroso [Show more ā–¼] Noun [Hungarian] IPA: [ˈhorːor] [Show additional information ā–¼] horror [Show more ā–¼] Noun [Latin] IPA: /ˈhor.ror/ [Classical], [ˈhɔrːɔr] [Classical], /ˈor.ror/ (note: modern Italianate Ecclesiastical), [ĖˆÉ”rːor] (note: modern Italianate Ecclesiastical) [Show additional information ā–¼] bristling (standing on end) Tags: declension-3, masculine [Show more ā–¼] shaking, shivering, chill Tags: declension-3, masculine [Show more ā–¼] dread, terror, horror Tags: declension-3, masculine [Show more ā–¼] The following are not (yet) sense-disambiguated Related terms: horrendus, horridus, horribilis, horrificus Noun [Old French] Forms: horror oblique singular or [canonical, feminine], horrors [oblique, plural], horror [nominative, singular], horrors [nominative, plural] [Show additional information ā–¼] horror or terror Synonyms: horrour, horrur [Show more ā–¼] Noun [Polish] IPA: /ˈxɔr.rɔr/ [Show additional information ā–¼] (colloquial) horror (something horrible; that which excites horror) Tags: colloquial, inanimate, masculine [Show more ā–¼] horror movie Tags: inanimate, masculine Synonyms: film grozy [Show more ā–¼] horror (literary genre) Tags: inanimate, masculine [Show more ā–¼] Noun [Portuguese] IPA: /oˈʁoʁ/ [Brazil], [oˈhoh] [Brazil], /oˈʁoʁ/ [Brazil], [oˈhoh] [Brazil], /oˈʁoɾ/ [SĆ£o-Paulo], [oˈhoɾ] [SĆ£o-Paulo], /oˈʁoʁ/ [Rio-de-Janeiro], [oĖˆĻ‡oχ] [Rio-de-Janeiro], /oˈʁoÉ»/ [Southern-Brazil], [oˈhoÉ»] [Southern-Brazil], /É”ĖˆŹoɾ/ [Portugal] Forms: horrores [plural] [Show additional information ā–¼] horror Tags: masculine Synonyms: temor, terror Related terms: horrendo, hórrido, horrĆ­fero, horrĆ­fico, horripilar, horrĆ­vel, horrorizar, horroroso [Show more ā–¼] Adjective [Romanian] [Show additional information ā–¼] horror Tags: feminine, indeclinable, masculine, neuter [Show more ā–¼] Noun [Romanian] [Show additional information ā–¼] horror Tags: neuter [Show more ā–¼] Noun [Spanish] IPA: /oˈroɾ/, [oˈroɾ] Forms: horrores [plural] [Show additional information ā–¼] horror; terror Wikipedia link: Diccionario crĆ­tico etimológico castellano e hispĆ”nico Tags: masculine Synonyms: miedo, temor, terror Derived forms: horror al vacĆ­o Related terms: horrendo, horrible, hórrido, horrĆ­fico, horripilante, horrorizar, horroroso [Show more ā–¼] Inflected forms horrores (Noun) [Portuguese] plural of horror horrores (Noun) [Spanish] plural of horror horrors (Noun) [English] plural of horror horrore (Noun) [Latin] ablative singular of horror horroribus (Noun) [Latin] dative/ablative plural of horror horrorem (Noun) [Latin] accusative singular of horror horroris (Noun) [Latin] genitive singular of horror horrori (Noun) [Latin] dative singular of horror horrorum (Noun) [Latin] genitive plural of horror horrores (Noun) [Latin] nominative/accusative/vocative plural of horror Alternative forms horrour (Noun) [Old French] Alternative form of horror horrour (Noun) [English] Misspelling of horror. horrour (Noun) [English] Obsolete form of horror. horrow (Noun) [English] Alternative form of horror If you use this data in academic research, please cite Tatu Ylonen: Wiktextract: Wiktionary as Machine-Readable Structured Data, Proceedings of the 13th Conference on Language Resources and Evaluation (LREC), pp. 1317-1325, Marseille, 20-25 June 2022. Linking to the relevant page(s) under https://kaikki.org would also be greatly appreciated.
Leon Czolgosz March 24, 2008 / Artifacts and Objects / anonymously authored / 1 minute of reading Estimated reading time — < 1 minute Leon Czolgosz, the assassin of William McKinley (the 25th President of the United States) was electrocuted for his crime on October 29, 1901, at Auburn Prison in Auburn, New York. Among the personal effects found in his cell was a U.S. quarter stamped with the date 2218. The face in profile on said quarter was not George Washington, but rather a face which has yet to be identified.
March 24, 2008 / Artifacts and Objects / anonymously authored / 1 minute of reading Estimated reading time — < 1 minute The assassin of William McKinley, 25th President of the United States, was electrocuted for his crime on October 29, 1901, at Auburn Prison in Auburn, New York. Among the personal effects found in his cell was a U.S. quarter stamped with the date 2218. The face in profile on said quarter was not George Washington, but rather a face which has yet to be identified.
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A soldier called his parents from San Francisco. "Mom and Dad, I'm coming home, but I've a favor to ask. I have a friend I'd like to bring home." "Sure," they replied, "we'd love to meet him." "There's something you should know" the son continued, "he was hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on a land mine and lost an arm and a leg. He has nowhere else to go, and I want him to come live with us." "I'm sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him find somewhere to live." "No, Mom and Dad, I want him to live with us." "Son," said the father, "you don't know what you're asking. Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burden on us. We have our own lives to live, and we can't let something like this interfere with our lives. I think you should just come home and forget about this guy. He'll find a way to live on his own." At that point, the son hung up the phone. The parents heard nothing more from him. A few days later, they received a call from the San Francisco police. Their son had died after falling from a building they were told. The police believed it was suicide. The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco and were taken to the city morgue to identily the body of their son. They recognized him, but to their horror they also discovered something they didn't know, their son had only one arm and one leg.
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Mother Warned Me Mother always warned me not to cross the street. Mother warned me about those types of things. She said bad men would kidnap me, take me away. I guess she was right, in a way. I crossed one day, because I was never a good child, and several men came out and picked me up and asked me many questions. I don’t know why she never wanted me to cross the street. All the men wore blue and had badges. I don’t know why they put silver bracelets on Mother. I don’t know why Mother attempted to bite one of them. I don’t know a lot of things, I suppose. And years later, I’ll never know why she made me call her Mother.
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Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

Episode | Pineapple Invasion Typed By: Amphitrite Plankton: (emerges from the roof with a waggon, with a rag covering something in it) I'm ready! I'm ready! Ready to steal the Krabby Patty secret formula! Prepare to initiate plan number... hmm... number... What's the number? Oh well, who cares? Karen: Good question. Plankton: Say what? Karen: I said "Good luck". (pushes the waggon down the slope) Plankton: That formula will be mine! (the waggon rolls through the Krusty Krab doors and past the customers up to the cash register boat) Out of my way, pinheads! Move it, move it, move it! (rings the bells) Hey there, schnozzola! I'm about to show you the advantage of not having a nose. Say hello to... r... Mr. Krabs: (rounds up Plankton with SpongeBob's arm) Here's another routine: you're the meat in me knuckle sandwich! Plankton: I'm not hungry! Mr. Krabs: (smashes Plankton between his fists. Plankton sticks to his left fist) Eww. (throws one of Plankton's antennae on the floor) SpongeBob! SpongeBob: (hops in on his leg) Yes, sir. I see the problem. SpongeBob: But Mr. Krabs, how do you know it will be safe from Plankton at my house? Mr. Krabs: Pshaw! He'll think it's still here! His tiny braın is incapable of the kind of abstract thinking that is required for reflection. Or thoughtful reasoning and deduction. He cannot ruminate (pan down to the antenna Plankton lost earlier, catching a signal of what Krabs is saying and Plankton is listening from a distance) He cannot define the hypothesis. He's a tıred clown. He'll never know it's in your house. Plankton: (smiling evilly) Oh, you're right, Professor Krabface. I'm much too simple-minded to look there. (laughs) (at nighttime, SpongeBob walks out of the Krusty Krab with the formula) Plankton: Hey, there. (SpongeBob panickedly hides the formula in one of his holes) Pleasant night, eh SpongeBob? SpongeBob: Oh, uh... yes. It's a very nighty-night for a walkie! Plankton: Ain't that the truth? Hey, nothing gets past you. One could say you have the formula for honesty. SpongeBob: Uh, yeah. One could say that I guess. Uh, anyway, I gotta go wash my formula--HAIR! Hair! I gotta go wash my hair! SpongeBob: (laughing nervously) Okay, bye! (walks home) Narrator: The next morning... SpongeBob: Now remember, Gary. I'm entrusting you. Gary: Meow. SpongeBob: Stay shxrp, Gary. Don't let anyone inside. Gary: Meow. SpongeBob: Bye, Gary! (Plankton watches as SpongeBob leaves. Laughs) Gary: (hears a knσck at the door) Meow. (opens the door) Meow, meow! (slams the door) Plankton: (gets mad and throws box on the ground, which explode. Stunned) Note to self: nitroglycerin is not a substitute for vanilla extract. (collapses) (goes back into the kitchen. Plankton opens the fridge, jumps on the stove, and knocks the fridge over. He then knocks the stove over and climbs through the ducts) Nope, nope, nope. (he climbs in the cupboards, and rummages through it. Gary wakes up from his nap and goes downstairs to see where the noise is coming from. Plankton sneaks past Gary and goes upstairs to search in SpongeBob's room. Gary sees him and gets an idea) Plankton: (walks out of SpongeBob's room and slips on Gary's slime, bounces off a mattress and flies into the ceiling fan, which spins him around and flings him in a basketball net, through a pipe, and onto a record player. The record player spins Plankton and he gets caught under. He falls off and into a puddle of glue. A bowling ball rolls on top of him, squishing and sticking him to it. The bowling ball rolls into a bunch of flower pots like bowling pins. A robotic vacuum cleaner sucks up the mess, including Plankton, who pops out of the dust bin) Alright, snail. Let's go! (Gary beats up Plankton with his eyestalks. After he recovers, he notices the opening of Gary's shell) Of course! What a fĆøĆøls I've been! (climbs inside) SpongeBob's hidden the secret formula inside Gary's shell! (one of Gary's eyes starts following him. Plankton starts running away as it chases him throughout all sorts of surreal dimensions in Gary's shell) SpongeBob: (returns home) Gary, I'm home! (gasps as soon as he sees the inside of his house is demolished) What happened here?! (gasps) My first Krabby Patty! I had it bronzed! Aw, and I was gonna give that to my grandchildren. (gasps again) My Mermaid Man collectible pants! I could've worn them a thousand more times. (gasps a third time) My glass of water! (teary-eyed) I was gonna drınk that. (walks up to his TV set. The Krabby Patty formula is on top of it) Oh, the Krabby Patty formula! Whew! It's safe and right where I left it. (spots Gary with his eye in his shell) Gary, did you do this? (Gary growls) What's the matter, Gary? Something wrong with your shell? Gary: Meow, meow! SpongeBob: Something's not right, Gary. Plankton: (stops running and reaches a đeađ end) Ha! I lost him! Now I'M lost. (Gary's shell abruptly tilts, causing him to fall deeper into the shell's center) Ow... my head... oh, I must be in the centre of the shell. (sees a piece of paper sticking out of the snail slime) What's that? (takes the paper out of the slime and opens it) This is it! Just like I thought! It was hidden here all the time! The secret Krabby Patty formula! It's beautiful! (a light shines on Plankton) The heavenly light! I always knew I'd see it once I've gotten the formula! (cut to the vet, where it's revealed that Gary's shell is opened up with Plankton inside holding a grocery list, looking dizzy and hallucinating) Doctor: Well, that's odd. Who's that? SpongeBob: Hey, it's Plankton. Doctor: What's he got there? SpongeBob: Looks like one of my old grocery lists. Doctor: I don't know how he got in there, but the gasses inside this shell are making the little guy hallucinate. He would've smelled the gasses if he had a nose like most good-hearted people. (takes a deep whiff) Plankton: (laughs crazy)
r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 hr. ago PandorazPokemon ϟ ѕcrσll dσwn αll thє wαч The young doctor frowned as he finished telling me the cancer had spread to my lymph nodes. "That's alright," I said, as I eyed him up and down; "it's about time for a new body anyway."
Practice Makes Perfect by reddit user whiteddit "You're not even trying. Again!" My calloused hands dance across the music. A finger slips and the tune groans. "Your father would be ashamed. Again!" My blurred vision falls from the yellowed sheet music to the keys. I miss another note. "Faster. Again!" I stumble once more as the tempo increases. She rises from the bench. "Absolutely worthless. You're done for today." I hang my head in shame. I know what's coming. The floorboards creak as Mother returns from the kitchen. I wince. It's hard enough to play with three fingers. It'll be even harder with two.
The Answers As I lived my life, I had always pondered on the mysteries of the universe. I wondered what it all meant, why we were all here, and what lie beyond. That was the reason I became a scientist. I slaved over my work trying to unlock the unknown whole of creation. Always fighting a never ending battle to seek answers for life's greatest questions. Then, when my life came to an end from an untimely accident, I found myself standing on the precipice to eternity. In the seemingly infinite chasm of darkness, a voice called out a question to me... "Shall all of the answers be revealed to you, or will you swim the sea of creation in unknowing bliss?" "Please... Show me the answers I have tirelessly searched for and still seek!" "Very well..." A sudden emergence of a blinding light bathed me, and I was brought into the entirety of knowledge kicking and screaming. That was almost two years ago... Today I lay in my playpen attempting my last ditch efforts at telling my new Mom and Dad what I know, but all they see, and all they've seen for months, is a child at play, talking gibberish. My urgency grows and the fear begins to consume my mind as I realize... the better I get at communicating with them, the more of what I know fades from my memory.
They’re in the house. No more than a moment or two passes before the door to the bedroom starts shuddering. The things I piled against it are holding, for now, but I know, realistically, that they’re going to manage to come through. I keep rocking my little girl, humming a lullaby in her ear to calm her as she cries. The pounding grows in force and volume, the frame starting to crack. I put my little girl on my lap, her back to my chest, and I stroke her head with both hands, from the top of her scalp, down across her ears, just as I’ve done. Just the way she loves it. The effect is instantaneous. Her desperate crying calms to a series of sobs and hiccoughs, her small body shuddering against mine in fear. I keep humming to her, soothing her hair, acting for all the world as if nothing is out of place, not a single thing amiss. Agonisingly slowly, in a reverse cadence of the sound of splintering wood, she calms down. I can feel it when she stops tensing, as I keep stroking her down the sides of her head. A final hiccough of a sob, and she falls quiet, her body relaxed. She doesn’t even have time to realise what’s happening as I twist her neck with a violent jerk, accompanied by a dry snap of a sound. She’s dead before she can even slump down into my lap. The door is giving way, the furniture pushed back. I may be torn limb from limb while I scream, but at least my baby angel’s safe from harm. 8 YEARS AGO
A White Lie I'm the last one here. Those things have killed everyone else. Those things with the huge wings, with the beady eyes, with the sharp claws....every time I close my eyes see my coworkers being ripped apart. A few of us made it to the building here, but even here we aren't safe. I watched them get picked off one by one, screaming as they fought against death. I tried to stop it I swear I did I tried... Now I'm running through the building to the main power center. With no one else to ask, I'm tasked with pressing one of these buttons. Either will press the red button, or the green button. Supposedly, one button will turn the power doors back on, protecting us from whatever that shrieking, hungry, and angry...thing is outside. That's the red button. The other button is green and opens the opposite side power door, and I can only imagine what might be out there. Why had I agreed to come and research in this lab? I think as I run, hearing the screeches behind me. Oh .... Why did I lie on my application? Why didn't I admit I was color blind?
My Sister's Sculpture My Mother told me about it when I was around 6 years old. She told me I wasn't an only child, I was one of two little girls. You see, she told me that when I was first born along with my twin sister, she died the evening she was born. She never told me why or how she died.or when they had the funeral for her. She told me about my Father going into a deep sense of mourning, and so to let us never forget my little sister my Father made a sculpture ofher. She was painted to every last detail. Her cute blue eyes to the little dimples in her cheeks. My Father would copy me as a reference since we were twins, and as I grew up I thought the sculpture was of me, but now that my Mother cleared this all up I felt more close to the sculpture than I did before. It wasn't long until I noticed that every year; on my birthday my Father would replace the sculpture and now the sculpture looked the same age as me, as if the sculpture would follow me as l aged. My Father continued to do this well into my teenage years, capturing her older and more mature features and the change in her face. On my 18th birthday I realised I could not sleep. I was wondering how my Father made the sculpture so detailed to me so late into the night. Perhaps he took a photo of me and paints it in every detail? I was curious. So I desided to creep my way downstairs to see if could catch my Father making the sculpture, and as l peeked my head around the kitchen door I felt all the colour of my face drain. There, on the Kitchen table my Father was injecting the ā€œsculptureā€ with a liquid as he whispered "You will always be my little sculpture." as I watched the ā€œsculpture'sā€ hands twitch.
Mary had a little lamb It's fleece was white as snow, And everywhere that Mary went That lamb was sure to go. He followed her to school one day That was against the rules, It made the children laugh and play But soon they felt like fools. Mary’s corpse was in a room And oh, what a scene! The kids saw her coated in blood And regretted being mean. Soon the police arrived Stepped over Mary’s heart, And tried to ask everyone How she was ripped apart. But when nobody knew The origins of all the gore, The police decided That it was time to go hardcore. And so everyone was dragged To detectors so they can’t tell a lie But everybody refused to tell Why Mary had to die. Suspects were jailed everywhere Tom, Barb, and Sam Because not a single person knew The murderer was the lamb. June 21, 2017 hellofinah
The Missed Call May 23, 2008 / Strange and Unexplained / anonymously authored / 1 minute of reading . Estimated reading time — < 1 minute A strange ringtone plays on your cell phone, you reach for it but whoever it was must have hung up, a wrong number maybe. You look at the phone anyway. You’ve missed a call. You listen to it. When you put the phone to your ear. Suddenly you hear a scream of pain, you toss the cell across the room, but you can still hear it. When you finally pick the phone up you see who the call was from, you realize who’s voice it was. Yours.
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, ā€œcall an ambulance.ā€ 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.
Quick get your seat… šŸ’ŗ šŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗšŸ’ŗ
Edward Mordrake Edward Mordrake, el hombre con dos rostros Edward Mordrake era un inglés que tenía un rostro extra en la nuca. De acuerdo a las historias que se cuentan de él, el rostro no podía hablar ni comer, pero podía reír y llorar. Edward suplicó a los médicos que le extrajeran este gemelo demoniaco porque, supuestamente, le susurraba cosas horribles en la noche, pero ningún médico se atrevió a intentarlo. Edward cometió suicidio a la edad de 23 años. En él se dice que Edward Mordrake era heredero de una familia noble de Inglaterra, su gemelo parasito era en realidad ella y hasta se escribió una opera con su historia llamada "Poor Edward". AdemÔs encontré este otro relato: "Una de las historias mÔs raras así como de las mÔs melancólicas de la deformidad humana es la de Edward Mordrake, quien iba a ser el heredero de una de las familias mÔs nobles de Inglaterra. Sin embargo nunca reclamó el título y se suicidó a los veintitrés años. Vivia en un retiro absoluto, evitando las visitas incluso de los miembros de su familia. Era un joven de grandes conocimientos, un buen estudiante y un músico de rara habilidad. Su figura era remarcable por su gracia natural, y su rostro -su rostro natural- era como el de Antinoo. Pero en la parte de atrÔs de su cabeza había otra cara, la de una chica muy guapa, "adorable como un sueño, atroz como un demonio". El rostro femenino era una mera mÔscara, "ocupando sólo una pequeña zona de la parte posterior del crÔneo, aunque mostrando signos de inteligencia de aire maligno". Se la había visto sonriendo y burlÔndose mientras Mordrake lloraba. Sus ojos seguían los movimientos del espectador, y sus labios se movian sin cesar. La voz era inaudible pero Mordrake aseguraba que durante la noche no podia conciliar el sueño debido a los odiosos susurros de su "gemela diabólica" como él la llamaba, "que nunca duerme, pero que me habla de tales cosas de las que sólo se oyen en el infierno. La imaginación no puede concebir las tentaciones espantosas en las que me envuelve. Por alguna imperdonable maldad de mis antepasados estoy cosido a este demonio - porque estoy seguro que es un demonio. Yo ruego y suplico para que lo eliminéis del mundo, aunque yo muera". Estas eran las palabras del desventurado Mordrake a Manvers y Treadwell, sus médicos. Aunque lo vigilaban constantemente consiguió procurarse veneno, debido a lo cual murió, dejando una carta en la que pedía que la "cara demoníaca" fuera destruida antes de su funeral, "para que no continuase con sus espantosos susurros en la tumba". Por petición propia fue enterrado en tierra baldía, sin ninguna lÔpida o marca que dejara constancia de su tumba." Pobre Edward ¿Has oido lo que dicen de edward? En la parte de atrÔs de su cabeza Tenia otra cara Era la de una mujer O la de una joven. Decían que quitÔrsela lo mataria Asi que el pobre edward estaba perdido La cara reía y lloraba Era su hermana gemela malvada Por las noches ella le hablaba De cosas solo mencionadas en el infierno Era imposible separarlos Encadenados juntos de por vida Al final, la campana dobló por su condena Alquiló unas habitaciones Y se ahorcó con ella De los barrotes del balcón Algunos todavía creer que se liberó de ella Pero yo la conocia muy bien Y digo que le llevó al suicidio Y se llevó al pobre Edward
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About to head out on a roadtrip in a campervan for the first time. Where should I visit in the north of Scotland?šŸ‘‡
Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 16 hr. ago 2Casca_2Red Jessica curled up on her bed as her mum cautiously waltzed into the room and said, "I understand wanting to fit in... but I just don't want you to feel like you have to change who you are." That night, surrounded by the leering, fanged smiles of her new friends, Jessica slowly exposed her neck and said, "Do it."
į”†ā±įµˆįµ‰ ᵇʸ Ė¢ā±įµˆįµ‰ ā½į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰į“®įµ’įµ‡ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᓼⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᶠ įµ’į¶  ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ įµ‡įµ˜į¶œįµįµ‰įµ—āø“ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ ᵗʰʳᵉʷ ᵗʰᵉ įµŹ³įµƒįµ–įµ–Ė”ā±āæįµ Ź°įµ’įµ’įµ ᵃˢ ⁱᵗ įµƒįµ—įµ—įµƒį¶œŹ°įµ‰įµˆ įµ—įµ’ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᶠ įµ’į¶  ᵗʰᵉ įµŹ³įµ˜Ė¢įµ—Źø įµŹ³įµƒįµ‡ā€§ į”†įµ‰į¶œįµ˜Ź³ā±āæįµ ⁱᵗ⸓ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ įµįµ’įµ— ᶻⁱᵖ˔ⁱⁿᵉ įµįµ‰į¶œŹ°įµƒāæā±Ė¢įµ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ Ź²įµ˜įµįµ–įµ‰įµˆ Ė¢Ė”ā±įµˆā±āæįµ ᵒⁿ įµˆįµ’Ź·āæā€§ ᓹʳ‧ į“·Ź³įµƒįµ‡Ė¢ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ įµƒįµ‡įµ’įµ›įµ‰ ᵗʰᵉ Ź³įµ’įµƒįµˆ ʷʰᵉⁿ Ė¢įµ‰įµ‰ā±āæįµ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵖᵉ Ė¢įµ—Ź³ā±āæįµ ʰᵉ Ė¢įµ‰įµ›įµ‰Ź³įµ‰įµˆ ⁱᵗ‧ į¶ įµƒĖ”Ė”ā±āæįµ įµˆįµ’Ź·āæ Ź°įµ‰įµƒįµˆį¶ ā±Ź³Ė¢įµ—āø“ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ ʰⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃʳᵈ į¶œįµ‰įµįµ‰āæįµ— įµ’āæį¶œįµ‰ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉ˔˔ įµˆįµ’Ź·āæā€§ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ ˢᵃʷ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵃⁿ įµ’įµ˜įµ— ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʰⁱᵗ ᵗʰᵉ įµŹ³įµ’įµ˜āæįµˆāø“ Ė¢įµ—įµƒāæįµˆā±āæįµ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵉᵉᵗ‧ ᓓᵒʷᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ Ź³įµ’Ė”Ė”įµ‰įµˆ įµ˜įµ– ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ Ź°įµ‰įµƒįµˆ ᵃⁿᵈ į¶œĖ”įµ’Ė¢įµ‰įµˆ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ įµ˜įµ—įµ—įµ‰Ź³įµ‰įµˆ ᵃ ⁿᵒⁱˢᵉ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉ˔˔ ˔ⁱᵐᵖ ᵃⁿᵈ įµ˜āæį¶œįµ’āæĖ¢į¶œā±įµ’įµ˜Ė¢ā€§ ᓹʳ‧ į“·Ź³įµƒįµ‡Ė¢ ˔ᵉᶠᵗ‧ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ įµāæįµ‰Ź· į”†įµƒāæįµˆŹø ᵃⁿᵈ į“·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæ ʷᵉʳᵉ Ź°įµƒįµ›ā±āæįµ ᵃ įµā±Ź³Ė”Ė¢ ᵗʳⁱᵖ ˢᵒ ʰᵉ ˢᵉᵗ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ į¶œįµ’įµ˜į¶œŹ° ᵃˢ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ įµƒįµįµ’įµ‰įµ‡įµƒ įµ–įµ˜įµ–įµ–Źø ᵗʳᵒᵗˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ Ź·Ź°ā±įµįµ–įµ‰Ź³įµ‰įµˆ ᵃⁿᵈ įµįµƒįµ›įµ‰ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ įµā±Ė¢Ė¢įµ‰Ė¢ įµ‡įµ˜įµ— ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'įµ— Ź³įµ‰Ė¢įµ–įµ’āæįµˆ įµ—įµ’ ᵗʰᵉ Ė”ā±į¶œįµā±āæįµ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ Ė¢Ė”ā±įµŹ°įµ—įµ‰Ė¢įµ—! "ᓵ įµ‡Ź³įµ’įµ˜įµŹ°įµ— Źøįµ’įµ˜ įµ—įµ’ ᵗʰᵉ į¶œįµ’įµį¶ įµ’Ź³įµ— įµ’į¶  Źøįµ’įµ˜Ź³ ʰᵒᵐᵉ‧‧" į¶œŹ³ā±įµ‰įµˆ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʰᵃᵈ įµ–įµ˜Ė”Ė”įµ‰įµˆ įµ˜įµ– ᵃ ᶜʰᵃⁱʳ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ įµƒįµˆŹ²įµƒį¶œįµ‰āæįµ— įµ—įµ’ ᵗʰᵉ į¶œįµ’įµ˜į¶œŹ°ā€§ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ Ė¢įµƒįµ— ᵇʸ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ įµ—įµ‰Ė£įµ—įµ‰įµˆ Ė¢į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ įµ—įµ’ į¶œįµ’įµįµ‰ įµƒįµ— ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ įµ‡įµ˜į¶œįµįµ‰įµ—ā€§ "į“¾Ė”įµ‰įµƒĖ¢įµ‰ ʰᵉ˔ᵖ; į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ ᶠᵉ˔˔ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵃˢⁿ'įµ— įµ‡įµ˜įµˆįµįµ‰įµˆ įµƒįµ— ᵃ˔˔ Ė¢ā±āæį¶œįµ‰! ᓵ įµˆįµ’āæ'įµ— įµāæįµ’Ź· Ź·Ź°įµƒįµ— įµ—įµ’ įµˆįµ’ā€§ā€§" į¶œŹ³ā±įµ‰įµˆ Ė¢įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ā€§ į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ įµāæįµ‰Ė”įµ— įµˆįµ’Ź·āæ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ į¶œįµ’įµ˜į¶œŹ°ā€§ "ᓓᵉ'Ė¢ įµįµ’āæāæįµƒ ᵐᵒˢᵗ Ė”ā±įµįµ‰Ė”Źø ᵇᵉ ˢᵒʳᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉ Ź·įµƒįµįµ‰Ė¢ įµ‡įµƒį¶œįµ įµ˜įµ–ā€§ ᓵᵗ'Ė¢ ʰᵃʳᵈ įµ—įµ’ ˢᵃʸ Ź·Ź°įµƒįµ— ʰᵉ'ᵈ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ‧ ᓓᵉ'Ė¢ įµƒĖ”ā±įµ›įµ‰ įµ‡įµ˜įµ— ʷᵒⁿ'įµ— Ź³įµ‰Ė¢įµ–įµ’āæįµˆ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧ ᓵⁿ ᵗʰᵉ įµįµ‰įµƒāæįµ—ā±įµįµ‰ ʷᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗʳʸ įµ—įµ’ įµįµ‰įµ‰įµ–ā±āæįµ ʰⁱᵐ į¶œįµ’įµį¶ įµ’Ź³įµ—įµƒįµ‡Ė”įµ‰ ᵃˢ ᵖᵒˢˢⁱᵇ˔ᵉ ᵃˢ ʷᵉ Ź·įµƒā±įµ—ā€§ā€§ā€§" į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ Ė¢įµƒā±įµˆā€§ "ᓺᵒʷ Ė¢Ź°ā±įµ‰Ė”įµˆ ʷⁱᵗʰ Źøįµ’įµ˜Ź³ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˢ ᓵ ʷⁱᵖᵉ ʰⁱˢ Ź°įµ‰įµƒįµˆ įµ—įµ’ ʷᵃˢʰ ᵃⁿʸ įµ’į¶ į¶ !" į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ ᵈⁱᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ įµ—įµ’Ė”įµˆā€§ "ᓺᵒʷ ˔ᵉᵗ'Ė¢ įµįµ‰įµ— ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ᵖⁱ˔˔ᵒʷ‧" ᵀʰᵉʸ įµ–įµ˜įµ— į¶œįµ’įµį¶ įµ’Ź³įµ—įµƒįµ‡Ė”Źø ᵃⁿᵈ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ Ė¢įµƒįµ— įµ‡įµƒį¶œįµ įµˆįµ’Ź·āæ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "į“¼āæį¶œįµ‰ ʰᵉ įµƒŹ·įµƒįµįµ‰āæĖ¢ ʰᵉ įµā±įµŹ°įµ— ᵇᵉ įµ˜įµ–Ė¢įµ‰įµ—ā€§ ᓓᵉ įµˆįµ’įµ‰Ė¢āæ'įµ— Ź°įµƒįµ›įµ‰ ᵃⁿʸ įµƒŹ·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæįµ‰Ė¢Ė¢ įµ’į¶  ⁿᵒʷ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ'Ė¢ ᵘˢᵘᵃ˔˔ʸ įµˆįµ‰į¶ įµ‰āæĖ¢ā±įµ›įµ‰ ᵃˢ ⁱˢ‧ ᵂᵉ'˔˔ Ź²įµ˜Ė¢įµ— Ė¢įµ–įµ‰āæįµˆ ᵗʰᵉ āæā±įµŹ°įµ— ᵒᵛᵉʳ‧" į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ įµ—įµ’Ė”įµˆ Ė¢įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ā€§ "į“³įµ’įµ’įµˆāæā±įµŹ°įµ—ā€§ā€§" į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ Ė¢įµ—įµƒŹ³įµ—įµ‰įµˆ įµ—įµ’ ˢʰᵒʷ Ė¢ā±įµāæĖ¢ įµ’į¶  Ź³įµ‰įµ›ā±įµ›įµƒĖ” ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵈᵃʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ įµįµ’Ź³āæā±āæįµā€§ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ Ė¢įµƒįµ— Ė¢įµ—Ź³įµƒā±įµŹ°įµ— įµ˜įµ–Ź³ā±įµŹ°įµ—ā€§ "įµŹ³įµŹ°ā€§ā€§" į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ Ź°įµ‰įµƒŹ³įµˆ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ Ź³įµ‰įµįµƒā±āæįµ‰įµˆ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵃ˔˔ʸ įµ’įµ–įµ‰āæā±āæįµ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ‧ "įµ‚Ź°įµƒ? įµ‚įµƒŹ°Ź°Ź°Ź° Ź·Ź°įµƒįµ—'Ė¢ įµįµ’ā±āæįµ ᵒⁿ‧‧‧" į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ Ė¢įµ—įµƒŹ³įµ—įµ‰įµˆ įµ—įµ’ Ź³įµ‰įµā±Ė¢įµ—įµ‰Ź³ ᵗʰᵉ įµ–įµƒā±āæ įµ’į¶  ʰⁱˢ Ź°įµ‰įµƒįµˆ įµ‰Ź³įµ˜įµ–įµ—ā±āæįµā€§ "ᵁʰʰʰʰʰʰ⸓ ᵐʸ Ź°įµ‰įµƒįµˆā€§ ᓼʷ; Ź·Ź°įµƒįµ— Ź°įµƒįµ–įµ–įµ‰āæįµ‰įµˆā€½" "ᓓⁱ⸓ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæā€§ā€§ā€§ Źøįµ’įµ˜ įµāæįµ’Ź· ʷʰᵉʳᵉ Źøįµ’įµ˜ įµƒŹ³įµ‰?" ᵀʰᵉʸ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ įµ˜āæįµƒįµ‡Ė”įµ‰ įµ—įµ’ Ź³įµ‰į¶œįµƒĖ”Ė”ā€§ "ᵂᵉ'ʳᵉ įµƒįµ— ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ įµ‡įµ˜į¶œįµįµ‰įµ—ā€§" į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵃˢ ˢᵖᵒᵗ Ź·įµƒįµĖ¢ ʰⁱˢ įµ—įµƒā±Ė”ā€§ "Źøįµ’įµ˜ ʰᵃᵈ ᵃⁿ įµ’įµ˜į¶œŹ° įµƒį¶ įµ—įµ‰Ź³ į¶ įµƒĖ”Ė”ā±āæįµ įµ’į¶ į¶  ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᶠ įµ’į¶  ᵗʰᵉ Ź³įµ‰Ė¢įµ—įµƒįµ˜Ź³įµƒāæįµ—āø“ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæā€§ā€§" į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ įµ—įµ’Ė”įµˆā€§ "ᵂᵉ'ʳᵉ įµįµ’āæāæįµƒ Ė¢įµ—įµƒŹø ʰᵉ˔ᵖ Źøįµ’įµ˜ ʷʰⁱ˔ˢᵗ į“·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæ'Ė¢ ᵒⁿ ʰᵉʳ ᵗʳⁱᵖ‧" į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ įµ‰įµįµ‡Ź³įµƒį¶œįµ‰įµˆ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡'Ė¢ Ź°įµƒāæįµˆā€§ "ᓵ įµ—Ź°ā±āæįµ ⁱᵗ'Ė¢ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ⁱᶠ ᓵ Ź°įµ‰įµƒįµˆ įµ’įµ˜įµ—ā€§ā€§ā€§" į”†įµƒā±įµˆ į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆā€§ "įµ€Ź°įµƒāæįµĖ¢āø“ į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ; ᓵ'˔˔ ˢᵗⁱ˔˔ ᵇᵉ Ė¢ā±įµˆįµ‰ ᵇʸ Ė¢ā±įµˆįµ‰ ᵃˢ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ Ź³įµ‰į¶œįµ’įµ›įµ‰Ź³Ė¢ā€§ā€§" į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ Ź·įµƒįµ›įµ‰įµˆ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ˔ᵉᶠᵗ‧ į¶ ā±āæįµˆā±āæįµ Ė¢įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ į‘«įµ˜ā±įµ—įµ‰ Ė¢įµ’įµ’įµ—Ź°ā±āæįµāø“ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ Ė¢įµ—įµƒŹ³įµ—įµ‰įµˆ įµ—įµ’ į¶ Ė”įµ˜įµ—įµ—įµ‰Ź³ į¶œĖ”įµ’Ė¢įµ‰įµˆ ᵃˢ įµˆŹ³įµ’Ź·Ė¢Źø įµ‰āæįµ’įµ˜įµŹ° įµ—įµ’ ˢ˔ᵉᵉᵖ‧
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ᵀʰᵉ āæįµƒįµįµ‰'Ė¢ į“®įµ’āæįµˆ ā½į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰į“®įµ’įµ‡ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ "ᓵ Ź°įµ‰įµƒŹ³įµˆ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ ᵃⁿᵈ į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ įµƒŹ³įµ‰ įµįµ’ā±āæįµ įµ—įµ’ ᵃ ʳᵉˢᵒʳᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ įµįµ’ā±āæįµ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉᵐ!" į“·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæ ᵗʰᵉ į¶œįµ’įµįµ–įµ˜įµ—įµ‰Ź³ ʷⁱᶠᵉ įµ—įµ’Ė”įµˆ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ ʰᵉʳ Ź°įµ˜Ė¢įµ‡įµƒāæįµˆā€§ "ᵂʰʸ įµˆįµ’ ʷᵉ įµįµ’įµ—įµ—įµƒ įµįµ’ ˢᵒ įµ‰įµƒŹ³Ė”Źø?" "ᓵ įµˆįµ’āæ'įµ— Ė”ā±įµįµ‰ įµ—įµ’ įµƒŹ³Ź³ā±įµ›įµ‰ Ė”įµƒįµ—įµ‰ į”†Ź°įµ‰Ė”įµˆįµ’āæā€§ā€§ā€§" "ᶠⁱⁿᵉ įµ‡įµ˜įµ— įµƒŹ³įµ‰ ʷᵉ įµįµ’āæāæįµƒ ᵐᵉᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᵒʳ‧‧‧" "ʸᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉ'˔˔ ᵇᵉ Ė¢įµ—įµƒŹøā±āæįµ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ Ė¢įµƒįµįµ‰ ʳᵒᵒᵐ Ė¢įµ˜ā±įµ—įµ‰ā€§" "ᵀʰᵉ ˢᵘⁿ'Ė¢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ įµ˜įµ–!" į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ ˢᵃⁱᵈ įµ˜āæįµˆįµ‰Ź³ ʰⁱˢ įµ‡Ź³įµ‰įµƒįµ—Ź°ā€§ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵃ˔˔ įµįµƒįµˆįµ‰ ⁱᵗ įµ—įµ’ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵒʳᵗ‧ "ᓓⁱ⸓ ᵇᵒʸˢ!" į“·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæ įµŹ³įµ‰įµ‰įµ—įµ‰įµˆ į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ ᵃⁿᵈ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ ᵃˢ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ į¶ įµ’Ė”Ė”įµ’Ź·įµ‰įµˆ ᵗᵒ‧ "ᵂᵉ˔˔ ᓵ į¶œįµƒāæāæįµ’įµ— įµįµ’ Ė¢Ź·ā±įµįµā±āæįµ įµ–įµ’įµ’Ė” įµƒŹ³įµ‰įµƒ Ė¢ā±āæį¶œįµ‰ ᓵ'ᵐ ᵃ į¶œįµ’įµįµ–įµ˜įµ—įµ‰Ź³ā€§ā€§ā€§" "ᓵ ᶠᵉᵉ˔ įµ˜įµ– įµ—įµ’ Ė”įµ’įµ’įµā±āæįµ įµƒįµ— ᵗʰᵉ įµƒŹ³į¶œŹ°ā±įµ—įµ‰į¶œįµ—įµ˜Ź³įµ‰'Ė¢ ˢᵒ Źøįµ’įµ˜ ᶜᵃⁿ į¶œįµ’įµįµ‰ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ! į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ ᵃⁿᵈ Ė¢įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰ ᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃⁿ Ė¢įµ˜Ź³įµ‰Ė”Źø Ź°įµƒāæįµˆĖ”įµ‰ ᵗʰᵉᵐˢᵉ˔ᵛᵉˢ‧‧‧" ˢᵃⁱᵈ į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆā€§ "ᵂᵉ'˔˔ ᵐᵉᵉᵗ įµ˜įµ– įµƒįµ— įµ’įµ˜Ź³ ʳᵒᵒᵐ!" į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ į¶ įµ’įµ˜āæįµˆ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉ˔ᶠ įµ‰āæŹ²įµ’Źøā±āæįµ įµįµ’ā±āæįµ ᵃ˔˔ įµ—įµ’ ᵗʰᵉ įµƒįµ—įµ—Ź³įµƒį¶œįµ—ā±įµ’āæĖ¢ ʷⁱᵗʰ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵒⁿᵗᵒ ᵃ˔˔ ᵗʰᵉ Ź³ā±įµˆįµ‰Ė¢ ᵃⁿᵈ Ź·įµƒįµ—įµ‰Ź³Ė¢Ė”ā±įµˆįµ‰Ė¢ ᵃˢ ʷᵉ˔˔ ᵃˢ įµ–Ė”įµƒŹøā±āæįµ ᵃ˔˔ ᵗʰᵉ įµįµƒįµįµ‰Ė¢ā€§ "ᓵ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ įµāæįµ‰Ź· ʰᵒʷ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᶠᵘⁿ Ź°įµƒāæįµā±āæįµ įµ’įµ˜įµ— ʷⁱᵗʰ Źøįµ’įµ˜ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ!" "Źøįµ‰įµƒā€§ā€§ā€§" į“·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæ ᵃⁿᵈ Ė¢į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ ᵐᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ įµ’į¶  ᵗʰᵉ Ė¢įµ˜ā±įµ—įµ‰ā€§ "ᵂᵉ˔˔ Ź·Ź°įµƒįµ— ᵈⁱᵈ Źøįµ’įµ˜ ᵃ˔˔ įµˆįµ’?" į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ įµƒĖ¢įµįµ‰įµˆ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ "ᵂᵉⁿᵗ Ė¢Ź·ā±įµįµā±āæįµā€§ā€§" "Źøįµ‰įµƒ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʷᵉ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵈⁱᵈ ᵗʰᵉ įµƒįµįµ˜Ė¢įµ‰įµįµ‰āæįµ— įµ–įµƒŹ³įµ ᵗʰᵉʸ įµ–Ź³įµ’įµ›ā±įµˆįµ‰įµˆā€§ ᓼʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉ įµƒĖ”Ė¢įµ’ įµįµ’įµ— įµ—įµ’ įµ–Ė”įµƒŹø ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵖᵒʳᵗ'Ė¢ įµ‡įµƒĖ”Ė”Ė¢ā€§ā€§ā€§" į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰ ᵇᵒᵇ į¶œįµ’āæįµ—ā±āæįµ˜įµ‰įµˆ Ź·Ź°įµ‰āæį¶œįµ‰ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ'Ė¢ įµ—Ź³įµƒā±Ė”įµ‰įµˆ įµ’į¶ į¶ āø“ įµ‡įµ˜įµ— Ė¢įµ—įµ’įµ–įµ–įµ‰įµˆ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉ˔ᵗ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ ᶠᵃ˔˔ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ Ė¢ā±įµˆįµ‰ā€§ "į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµā€§ā€§ā€§" į”†įµ˜Ź³įµ‰ įµ‰āæįµ’įµ˜įµŹ°āø“ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ Ė”įµ‰įµƒāæįµ‰įµˆ ᵒⁿᵗᵒ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ į¶œįµ’įµįµ–Ė”įµ‰įµ—įµ‰Ė”Źø įµƒĖ¢Ė”įµ‰įµ‰įµ– ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ įµįµ’įµ˜įµ—Ź° įµˆŹ³įµ’įµ–įµ–ā±āæįµ Ė¢įµ’įµįµ‰Ź·Ź°įµƒįµ— ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ˢᵗⁱ˔˔ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵉᵉᵗ įµ‡įµ˜įµ— ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'įµ— į¶ įµƒį¶œįµ‰ įµ–Ė”įµƒāæįµ— įµ‡įµ‰į¶œįµƒįµ˜Ė¢įµ‰ Ė¢įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡'Ė¢ Ė¢įµ˜įµ–įµ–įµ’Ź³įµ—įµ‰įµˆ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "įµ‚Ź°įµƒįµ—ā€§ā€§ā€§" į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ įµįµ’įµ— Ź·įµ’Ź³Ź³ā±įµ‰įµˆ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ į¶œįµƒįµ˜įµŹ°įµ— į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ Ź°įµ‰Ė”įµˆ įµ˜įµ–ā€§ "ᓓᵉ'Ė¢ įµ‰Ė£Ź°įµƒįµ˜Ė¢įµ—įµ‰įµˆ; ʷᵉ ˔ᵉᶠᵗ įµ‰įµƒŹ³Ė”Źø ᵃⁿᵈ Źøįµ’įµ˜ ᵇᵒᵗʰ Ė¢įµ‰įµ‰įµįµ‰įµˆ įµ—įµ’ įµˆįµ’ Ė¢įµ—Ź³įµ‰āæįµ˜įµ’įµ˜Ė¢ įµƒį¶œįµ—ā±įµ›ā±įµ—ā±įµ‰Ė¢āø“ ˢᵒ ⁿᵒʷ įµ’į¶  į¶œįµ’įµ˜Ź³Ė¢įµ‰ ʰᵉ‧‧‧" į“·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæ įµįµ’įµ— į‘«įµ˜ā±įµ‰įµ— ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ įµ—Ź°įµ’įµ˜įµŹ°įµ— ˢʰᵉ Ė¢įµ—įµƒŹ³įµ—įµ‰įµˆ Ź°įµ‰įµƒŹ³ā±āæįµ Ė¢įµ˜įµ‡įµ—Ė”įµ‰ Ė¢āæįµ’Ź³įµ‰įµˆā€§ "Źøįµ‰įµƒ ˢᵒ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ'Ė¢ ᶠᵒʳ įµ—įµ’āæā±įµŹ°įµ—; ʰᵉ'Ė¢ įµ—įµ’ įµ—ā±Ź³įµ‰įµˆ įµ‰āæįµ’įµ˜įµŹ° įµ—įµ’ Ź³įµ’įµ˜Ė¢įµ‰ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᓹʸ Ź°įµ˜Ė¢įµ‡įµƒāæįµˆ'Ė¢ ʷᵃʸ ˢᵒ ʷᵒʳⁿ įµ’įµ˜įµ— ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵉ˔˔ Ź²įµ˜Ė¢įµ— Ė”įµ’įµ’įµā±āæįµ įµƒįµ— ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᓓᵉ'Ė¢ ⁿᵒᵗ įµįµ’āæāæįµƒ ᵇᵉ įµƒįµ‡Ė”įµ‰ įµ—įµ’ Ź·įµƒįµįµ‰ įµ˜įµ–ā€§ā€§ā€§" "ᔆᵒ ⁿᵒʷ Ź·Ź°įµƒįµ— įµˆįµ’ā€§ā€§ā€§" "ᓵ'ᵈ ˢᵃʸ įµ–įµ˜įµ— ʰⁱᵐ ᵗʰᵉ įµ‡įµ‰įµˆ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗ įµ’į¶  ᵘˢ āæįµ‰įµ‰įµˆ ˢ˔ᵉᵉᵖ įµ—įµ’!" į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ ā±āæįµ—įµ‰Ź³Ź²įµ‰į¶œįµ—įµ‰įµˆā€§ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ įµ’įµ‡įµ›ā±įµ’įµ˜Ė¢Ė”Źø įµ’į¶ į¶ įµ‰Ź³įµ‰įµˆ ⁿᵒ Ź³įµ‰Ė¢ā±Ė¢įµ—įµƒāæį¶œįµ‰ ᵃˢ įµ–ā±į¶œįµįµ‰įµˆ įµ˜įµ–ā€§ā€§ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ įµįµ’Ź³āæā±āæįµ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ ˢ˔ᵉᵉᵖⁱ˔ʸ Ė¢įµƒįµ— įµ˜įµ– ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ įµ‡įµ‰įµˆ ʰᵉ įµįµ’įµ— įµ–Ė”įµƒį¶œįµ‰įµˆ ⁱⁿ‧ ᓺᵒʷ įµƒįµ‡Ė”įµ‰ įµ—įµ’ Ź°įµƒįµ›įµ‰ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ⸓ ʰᵉ Ė”įµ’įµ’įµĖ¢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵃʷ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ⁱⁿ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧‧ "ā€§ā€§ā€§į¶ ā±āæįµƒĖ”Ė”Źø įµƒŹ·įµƒįµįµ‰ā€§ā€§ā€§" į“·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæ'Ė¢ įµ›įµ’ā±į¶œįµ‰ā€§ ᓓᵉ įµ‡Ė”ā±āæįµįµ‰įµˆ įµ—įµ’ į¶œĖ”įµ‰įµƒŹ³ ʰⁱˢ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵒⁿ‧ ᓼⁿ˔ʸ Ė¢į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ ˢᵗⁱ˔˔ ˢ˔ᵉᵖᵗ įµƒĖ¢Ė”įµ‰įµ‰įµ–ā€§ā€§ į¶ įµ‰įµ‰Ė”ā±āæįµĖ¢ įµ’į¶  įµ‰įµįµ‡įµƒŹ³Ź³įµƒĖ¢Ė¢įµįµ‰āæįµ— Ė¢įµ—įµƒŹ³įµ—įµ‰įµˆ įµ—įµ’ ᵉⁿᵛᵉ˔ᵒᵖ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæā€§ ᓓᵉ ᶠᵉ˔ᵗ įµˆŹ³įµ’Ź·Ė¢Źø įµ‡įµ˜įµ—'Ė¢ įµƒŹ·įµƒįµįµ‰ įµ‰āæįµ’įµ˜įµŹ° įµ—įµ’ ᶠᵉᵉ˔ įµ˜āæį¶œįµ’įµį¶ įµ’Ź³įµ—įµƒįµ‡Ė”įµ‰ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ Ė¢ā±įµ—įµ˜įµƒįµ—ā±įµ’āæ įµ’į¶  ʰⁱˢ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ Ė¢įµ—įµƒŹ³ā±āæįµ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'įµ— Ź³įµ‰į¶œįµƒĖ”Ė” įµįµ’ā±āæįµ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ ᓓᵉ'Ė¢ ⁿᵒᵗ Ė¢įµ˜Ź³įµ‰ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ Ź·įµƒāæįµ—Ė¢ įµ—įµ’ įµāæįµ’Ź· Ź·Ź°įµƒįµ— įµ’į¶œį¶œįµ˜Ź³Ź³įµ‰įµˆ! "ᔆᵒ ᓵ ˢᵉᵉ Źøįµ’įµ˜'ʳᵉ ⁿᵒʷ įµƒŹ·įµƒįµįµ‰; įµįµ’įµ’įµˆ įµįµ’Ź³āæā±āæįµā€§ā€§ā€§" į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ Ė¢įµƒā±įµˆā€§ "ā€§ā€§ā€§Ė¢įµƒŹø Ź·Ź°įµƒįµ—ā€§ā€§ā€§" į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ Ė¢Ź°ā±į¶ įµ—įµ‰įµˆā€§ "ᓵᵗ'Ė¢ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵃ Ė”įµ’āæįµ ᵈᵃʸ ʸᵉˢᵗᵉʳ ᵈᵃʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉ ᵃ˔˔ āæįµ‰įµ‰įµˆįµ‰įµˆ ʳᵉˢᵗ‧ Źøįµ’įµ˜ į¶œįµ’įµ˜Ė”įµˆ ˢᵃʸ ʷᵉ ᵃ˔˔ įµˆįµ’į¶»įµ‰įµˆ įµ’į¶ į¶  Ź·Ź°įµ‰āæį¶œįµ‰ ʷᵉ įµįµ’įµ— įµ‡įµƒį¶œįµā€§ā€§ā€§" į“·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæ āæįµ‰Ź³įµ›įµ’įµ˜Ė¢Ė”Źø įµ—įµ’Ė”įµˆ ʰⁱᵐ įµāæįµ’Ź·ā±āæįµ ʰᵉ ʷᵒⁿ'įµ— Ė”ā±įµįµ‰ įµ—įµ’ Ź°įµ‰įµƒŹ³ įµƒįµ‡įµ’įµ˜įµ— ⁱᵗ įµ‡įµ˜įµ— įµƒĖ”Ė¢įµ’ ˢᵃⁱᵈ Ė¢įµ’įµįµ‰Ź·Ź°įµƒįµ— įµ–įµƒŹ³įµ— įµ’į¶  ᵗʰᵉ įµ—Ź³įµ˜įµ—Ź°ā€§ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ ʰᵒʷᵉᵛᵉʳ'Ė¢ ⁿᵒᵗ į¶œįµƒįµ—į¶œŹ°ā±āæįµ ᵒⁿ‧ "ᓼʰ ᵃⁿᵈ Źøįµ’įµ˜ ᶠᵉ˔˔ Ź³ā±įµŹ°įµ— įµ—įµ’ ˢ˔ᵉᵉᵖ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʷᵉ ˢᵉᵗ į¶ įµ’įµ’įµ— ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ⸓ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ! į¶œįµ’įµ˜Ė”įµˆ ⁿᵒᵗ įµįµ‰įµ— Źøįµ’įµ˜ įµ—įµ’ Ź·įµƒįµįµ‰ ᵃˢ Źøįµ’įµ˜'ᵛᵉ į¶ įµƒĖ”Ė”įµ‰āæ įµƒĖ¢Ė”įµ‰įµ‰įµ– Ė¢āæįµ’Ź³ā±āæįµ ᵃⁿᵈ Ė¢įµ—įµƒāæįµˆā±āæįµ įµ˜įµ–Ź³ā±įµŹ°įµ— Ė”įµ‰įµƒāæā±āæįµ ᵒⁿ ᵐᵉ ˢᵒ ʷᵉ įµˆįµ‰į¶œā±įµˆįµ‰įµˆ įµ—įµ’ ᶜᵃ˔˔ ⁱᵗ ᵃ āæā±įµŹ°įµ—ā€§ā€§" į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ įµ—įµ’Ė”įµˆ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ Ė”įµƒįµ˜įµŹ° ᵃˢ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ'Ė¢ ᵉʸᵉ Ź·ā±įµˆįµ‰āæįµ‰įµˆā€§ į“·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæ į¶ įµƒį¶œįµ‰ įµ–įµƒĖ”įµįµ‰įµˆ Ź°įµ‰įµƒŹ³ā±āæįµ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵉ˔˔ ʰᵉʳ Ź°įµ˜Ė¢įµ‡įµƒāæįµˆ ⁿᵒʷ ᶠᵉ˔ᵗ Ź°įµ˜įµā±Ė”ā±įµƒįµ—įµ‰įµˆā€§ ᓬˢ Ė¢į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ įµƒŹ·įµ’įµįµ‰ įµ˜įµ– į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰ ᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʷ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ'Ė¢ įµˆā±Ė¢į¶œįµ’įµį¶ įµ’Ź³įµ—ā€§ ᓓᵉ'Ė¢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉⁿᵗⁱʳᵉ˔ʸ Ė¢įµ˜Ź³įµ‰ ʷʰʸ įµ‡įµ˜įµ— ʰᵉ Ź·įµƒāæįµ—įµ‰įµˆ įµ—įµ’ ʰᵉ˔ᵖ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᓺᵒ āæįµ‰įµ‰įµˆ įµ—įµ’ ᶠᵉᵉ˔ įµ‡įµƒįµˆ ᵇᵉ į¶œįµƒįµ˜Ė¢įµ‰ Źøįµ’įµ˜Ź³ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉˢ ʷᵉʳᵉ įµ‡įµƒŹ³įµ‰Ė”Źø įµƒįµ˜įµˆā±įµ‡Ė”įµ‰ā€§ā€§ā€§" "į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰ ᵇᵒᵇ ʷʰʸ įµˆįµ’āæ'įµ— Źøįµ’įµ˜ įµįµ’ ˢᵉᵉ ⁱᶠ ᵗʰᵉʸ Ź°įµƒįµ›įµ‰ įµįµ‰įµƒĖ”'Ė¢ ᵒᶠᶠᵉʳ'Ė¢ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ įµ‡Ź³įµ’į¶œŹ°įµ˜Ź³įµ‰'ˢ‧‧‧" į“·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸓ įµāæįµ’Ź·ā±āæįµ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ įµ˜āæā±āæįµ—įµ‰āæįµ—ā±įµ’āæįµƒĖ”Ė”Źø Ź·įµ’Ź³Ė¢įµ‰āæįµ‰įµˆ ʰᵒʷ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ ᶠᵉ˔ᵗ‧ "ᓼʰ⸓ ʸᵃʸ!" į“·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæ ʷᵉⁿᵗ įµ—įµ’ įµ–įµ˜įµ— ʰᵉʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵒⁿ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ'Ė¢ įµ‡įµƒį¶œįµ ʷʰⁱ˔ˢᵗ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ įµįµ’įµ— ᵗʰᵉ įµ‡Ź³įµ’į¶œŹ°įµ˜Ź³įµ‰ā€§ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ įµƒįµ›įµ’ā±įµˆįµ‰įµˆ ᵉʸᵉ į¶œįµ’āæįµ—įµƒį¶œįµ—ā€§ "ᵀʰᵉʸ įµįµ’įµ— ˢᵒᵐᵉ įµįµ‰Ė”įµ– Ė¢Ź°įµƒįµįµ‰Ė¢!" į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ įµ‰Ė£į¶œĖ”įµƒā±įµįµ‰įµˆā€§ "į”†įµ’įµ˜āæįµˆ įµįµ’įµ’įµˆ!" "ᓵ'˔˔ įµįµ’ įµįµ‰įµ— Źøįµ’įµ˜ įµ‰įµƒį¶œŹ° ᵃ įµįµ‰Ė”įµ– Ė¢Ź°įµƒįµįµ‰; ᵇᵉ Ź³ā±įµŹ°įµ— įµ‡įµƒį¶œįµ!" į”†įµƒā±įµˆ į“·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæā€§ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ įµįµ’įµ—įµ—įµ‰āæ įµ’į¶ į¶  įµ’į¶  įµ’įµ˜įµ— įµ’į¶  įµ‡įµ‰įµˆ ˢᵗⁱ˔˔ į¶ įµ‰įµ‰Ė”ā±āæįµ įµƒŹ·įµŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆā€§ "įµ‚Ź°įµƒįµ—'Ė¢ ⁱⁿ įµįµ‰Ė”įµ– Ė¢Ź°įµƒįµįµ‰Ė¢?" į“¬Ė¢įµĖ¢ į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆā€§ "ᵀʰᵉʸ įµįµ‰įµ— Ź²įµ˜ā±į¶œįµ‰ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˢᵒᵐᵉ įµįµ‰Ė”įµ– į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆā€§ ᓼʰ ᵐᵃʸ ᵇᵉ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ Źøįµ’įµ˜ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵉ˔˔ ˢᵒᵐᵉ įµˆŹ³ā±āæįµĖ¢ įµ˜Ė¢ā±āæįµ įµįµ‰Ė”įµ–ā€½" Ė¢įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ Ė¢įµƒā±įµˆā€§ "Źøįµ’įµ˜ įµāæįµ’Ź· Ź·Ź°įµƒįµ— ᓵ įµā±įµŹ°įµ— į¶œįµ’āæĖ¢ā±įµˆįµ‰Ź³ įµ—Ź³Źøā±āæįµ ⁱᵗ‧‧" į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ įµ—įµ’Ė”įµˆ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ ᵃˢ į“·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæ į¶œįµƒįµįµ‰ įµ‡įµƒį¶œįµā€§ 'į“¾įµ‰Ź³Ź°įµƒįµ–Ė¢ įµā±įµ›įµ‰ į“·Ź³įµƒįµ‡Ė¢ ᵃ ʳᵘⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒⁿᵉʸ⸓ ⁱᶠ ⁿᵒᵗ Ź²įµ˜Ė¢įµ— ᶠᵒʳ įµ—įµ’ įµįµ‰įµ‰įµ– ʰⁱᵐ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵒᵉˢ' į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ įµ—Ź°įµ’įµ˜įµŹ°įµ—ā€§ į“°įµ‰Ė”ā±į¶œā±įµ’įµ˜Ė¢!
https://m.webtoons.com/en/canvas/the-secert-formula/list?title_no=936232
Adrenal Gland Tumor(Pheochromocytoma) Anosmia( Loss of Smell) Athletes Foot( Tinea Pedis) Bad Breath(Halitosis , Oral Malodor) Bedwetting(Enuresis) Bile Duct Cancer(Cholangiocarcinoma) Blackheads(Comedones) Bleedingnose(Nosebleed / Epistaxis) Blepharospasm - Eye Twitching(Eye Twitching - Blepharospasm) Bulging Eyes(Eye Proptosis | Exophthalmos) Cephalgia(Headache) Cheilitis | Chapped Lips Conjunctivitis( Pink Eye) Dry Skin(Xerosis) Fasciculations(Muscle Twitching) Fever(Pyrexia) Gallstones(Cholelithiasis) Herpangina (Painful Mouth Infection)(Mouth Blisters) Itchy Skin(Pruritus) Kinetosis(Travel Sickness / Sea sickness | Space sickness / Motion Sickness) Nervous Tic(Trigeminal Neuralgia) Ringworm(Tinea / Dermatophytosis) Singultus(Hiccups , Hiccoughs , Synchronous Diaphragmatic Flutter (SDF)) Smelly Feet(Bromodosis) Sneezing(Sternutation) Stiff Neck(Neck Pain / Cervicalgia) Stomach Flu(Gastroenteritis) Strabismus|Squint Utricaria(Hives) Uveitis(Eye Inflammation) Xerostomia(Dry Mouth)
The Never Ending Road. In Corona, California there once was a road known by most of the elder locals as the never ending road. Specifically, the road’s true name was Lester Road. However, over 70 years ago, Lester Road was an unlit road that people claimed became a never ending road when driven at night. The people who made such a drive were never seen or heard from again. The legend became so well-known that people refused to even drive Lester Road during the day. Perpetuation of the legend convinced local law enforcement to investigate around the 1960’s. Lester Road took a sharp left turn at it's end, and there were no guard rails. Beyond the curve lay a canyon, and on the other side of the canyon was another road that lined up so well with Lester Road that when viewed from the correct angle, especially at night, the canyon vanished from sight, and the road seemed to continue on up and over the hill on the other side of the canyon. Upon investigation of the canyon, dozens of cars were found, fallen to their doom, with the decomposing bĆødies of the victims still strapped to their seats. Law enforcement tried to cover up their findings. They closed down Lester road, letting the trees grow where the road once stood and letting the bĆødies remain in their final resting place.
SherlockHolmesz 25 apr 2023 On average, you walk past 36 murderers in your lifetime. ~iFunny
Digital_F1aw POV: You were a respected scientist who made an uncanny discovery in the Siberian permafrost. You tried to warn them, but no one listened. As the rumbling footsteps creep closer and closer, you can't help but laugh. 5 jul
https://www.creepypasta.com/ya-te-veo/
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CREEPYPASTA ar كريبي ŲØŲ§Ų³ŲŖŲ§ fa Ś©Ų±ŪŒŁ¾ŪŒā€ŒŁ¾Ų§Ų³ŲŖŲ§ he ×§×Ø×™×¤×™×¤×”×˜×” ja ć‚ÆćƒŖćƒ¼ćƒ”ćƒ¼ćƒ‘ć‚¹ć‚æ ko ķ¬ė¦¬ķ”¼ķŒŒģŠ¤ķƒ€ mk ŠšŃ€ŠøŠæŠøŠæŠ°ŃŃ‚Š° ru ŠšŃ€ŠøŠæŠøŠæŠ°ŃŃ‚Š° sr ŠšŃ€ŠøŠæŠøŠæŠ°ŃŃ‚Š° uk ŠšŃ€ŠøŠæŃ–-паста zh_yue ęę€–ę„å¼éŗŖ creepypastas horror-related legends or images that have been copy-and-pasted around the Internet Arabic كريبيباستا Ł†ŁˆŲ¹ من Ų£Ł†ŁˆŲ§Ų¹ قصص الرعب Bulgarian крипипаста Czech creepypasta výraz pro hororovĆ© pověsti nebo obrĆ”zky ŔířícĆ­ se pomocĆ­ internetu German Creepypasta InternetphƤnomen Persian کریپی پاستا No description defined French creepypasta lĆ©gende urbaine diffusĆ©e sur internet Hebrew ×§×Ø×™×¤×™×¤×”×˜×” אגדת אימה Indonesian creepypasta cerita berbau legenda-horor atau gambar yang banyak disalin tempel di internet Italian Creepypasta racconto horror Japanese ć‚ÆćƒŖćƒ¼ćƒ”ćƒ¼ćƒ‘ć‚¹ć‚æ ć‚¤ćƒ³ć‚æćƒ¼ćƒćƒƒćƒˆäøŠć§ć‚³ćƒ”ćƒ¼ćƒ»ć‚¢ćƒ³ćƒ‰ćƒ»ćƒšćƒ¼ć‚¹ćƒˆć‚’é€šć˜ć¦ęµåøƒć—ć¦ć„ć‚‹ć€ęę€–ć‚’å‚¬ć•ć›ć‚‹čŖ¬č©±ć‚„ē”»åƒ Korean ķ¬ė¦¬ķ”¼ķŒŒģŠ¤ķƒ€ No description defined Macedonian крипипаста Norwegian BokmĆ„l creepypasta gufne historier som er spredd over internett Dutch creepypasta horrorlegende die veelvuldig op internet gekopieerd en geplakt wordt Polish creepypasta krótkie legendy lub ilustracje z dreszczykiem rozpowszechniane w Internecie creepypastas Portuguese creepypasta lendas urbanas divulgadas atravĆ©s da internet Brazilian Portuguese creepypasta lendas urbanas divulgadas atravĆ©s da internet creepypastas Romanian Pasta infricosatoare No description defined Russian крипипаста жанр интернет-Ń„Š¾Š»ŃŒŠŗŠ»Š¾Ń€Š° Serbian ŠšŃ€ŠøŠæŠøŠæŠ°ŃŃ‚Š° Š”Ń‚Ń€Š°ŃˆŠ½Šø виГео снимци са интернета Turkish Creepypasta İnternet'te yayılan, korku iƧerikli efsaneler veya resimler Ukrainian ŠšŃ€Ń–ŠæŃ–-паста No description defined Vietnamese Creepypasta Những cĆ¢u chuyện ngįŗÆn kinh dị Cantonese Creepypasta No description defined Chinese (Taiwan) č •å‹•ē¾©å¤§åˆ©éŗµ No description defined Traditional Chinese č •å‹•ę„éŗµ No description defined ęę€–ę„éŗµCreepypasta Chinese č •å‹•ę„éŗµ No description defined 恐怖蠕動傳説 Spanish Creepypasta breves historias de terror
My Fear of Water pazuzuscrypt: I’ve always had a terrible fear of being submerged completely in water. Not that I can’t swim or anything. My dad made me learn; he said I almost drowned when I was really young. I was afraid of it because, for as long as I can remember, whenever I am under water and look up at the surface I see a woman reaching down to me with a warm smile with glowing golden hair and dark blue eyes. Even if its just in a bathtub. It always happened it was just normal for me, but i never got used to it. It was unnerving, but also soothing at the same time. She always made me feel like it was okay. I still avoided it, though, because I was just a kid and it was really freaky. I never told my dad about it as a kid, but I did ask him about my mom. He never wanted to talk about her. Sometimes he even got mad at me for trying too hard to bring it up. It was only recently that I described this apparition to him. He nearly drove into a telephone pole; obviously he knew something. I asked him again, about my mom. He still wouldn't say much, except that she died when I was very young, and that she loved me very much. He also admitted that her hair and eyes were those colors, just like mine. So I did some research on my own, looking up her name for myself on my birth certificate and trying to find any references I could any news clips about a boy nearly drowning, any thing. I mostly wanted a picture, something I could match to my guardian angel. Today, buried in our town library, I found it. WINCHESTER: Withie, 28, drowned yesterday evening after climbing a razerwire fence and fleeing to a nearby resevoir. A funeral is scheduled by her family for the 25th. She was institutionalized just six months ago, after being found ā€œnot guiltyā€ of attempted murder on grounds of insanity. Her husband Withie had acted quickly enough to rescue their infant child when she was found trying to drown him in a bathtub. Monday, December 14th, 2015 | via: pazuzuscrypt | source: pazuzuscrypt
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Fatherly Advice She broke it off with me today. She said something about how we just weren’t meant to be and that we could be friends. They always say that. At first I was hurt. Then I was angry. How could she do this to me after everything I’ve done for her? Not meant to be? I started to get really mad! But then I remembered the advice my father gave me long ago after my first big heartbreak. ā€œSon, some-times a woman just doesn’t want to give you her heart, and that’s OK, because you can always cut it out of her chest...ā€ 8 YEARS AGO
Congenital Absence of... Abrachia ~ lacking arms Acardia ~ lacking heart Acephalism ~ lacking a head Acorea ~ lacking pupils Adactylism ~ lacking digits Adermatoglyphia ~ lacking fingerprints Agastric ~ lacking in digestive system Agnathic ~ lacking mandible jaw Ametria ~ lacking womb Amyelous ~ lacking spinal backbone chord Anephric ~ lacking kidney Aniridic ~ lacking iris Anodontia ~ lacking teeth Anophthalmia ~ lacking eyes Anotia ~ lacking outer ear Apodia ~ lacking feet Apulmonic ~ lack in lungs Asternia ~ lacking sternum Atrichia ~ lacking hair
Creepypasta 5 Eerie Places in Slovenia for Ghost Hunters June 5, 2024 / Strange and Unexplained / 4 minutes of reading Estimated reading time — 3 minutes Slovenia is a beautiful country with beautiful nature and a history that is more fearful and strange than you could imagine. As a small European country between Italy and Austria bordered by Croatia, it offers more than stunning landscapes and rich culture. In favor of gh0st hunters, Slovenia is home to ghostly apparitions and haunt3d locations that are sure to attract every fan of mystery. But this place is not only for horror story lovers. In this article, we’ll explore 5 of the most haunt3d sites appealing for their adrenaline rush. Predjama Castle This majestic structure is none other than Predjama Castle, which is located on a 123-meter tall cliff overlooking the Lipica Spring. As locals claim, this castle is haunt3d by a mysterious dark̵ past. And if you look at its Gothic architectural design, you might quickly agree that this castle indeed looks haunt3d. What’s more, people say that the castle’s inhabitants are the ghcsts of several servants and one of the knights named Erazem Lueger. Erazem was famous for his robber-like activities similar to the English outlaw Robin Hood. This man was holding the castle for over one year when he d1ed of a cannonball, which hit him while he was on the looɔ. Considering that spiritualists have reported seeing the apparent gh0st of Erazem going around the castle, there was some talk of making tours around this castle ıllegal in the past. Still, there are various available options for getting yourself entertained. For instance, according to this article, gambling is legal in Slovenia which is a safer option than gambling with your LiFe in this eerie castle. Ljubljana Castle Ljubljana Castle, situated on the hilltop, stands majestically over Slovenia’s capital. This is another interesting place for gh0st hunters that represents the city’s past and surv1val. But it is also a place with some cold-blooded mysteries beyond the grave. The history of this castle spans centuries and has been used for royal living, military protection, and even imprisonment. This can be explained by a land’s history that is so diverse that stories about restless souls from the Middle Ages are not the exception. Yes, you will hear many legends about this place. One of the most known ones is about a white lady whose voıce can still be heard in the castle. Celje Castle Celje Castle is another place with some old dark̵ aspects and disasters. Probably the most known legend connected to the castle is the story of the dEath of beautiful Veronika of Desenice, the daughter of a wealthy nobleman who loved Frederick II, the son of Count Hermann II. The common theme in their lĘ”ve story turned bitter when Veronika was faced with charges of witchcraft and was murdered by drowning in one of Tetzel’s castle wells. Present-day inhabitants of Celje regard it as a norm to see an apparition of a woman whom locals claim to be Veronika, who is still haunting the castle. Today, locals believe that her spırıt is restless in the pursuit of justice and the seeking of peace. Hudičev Most Only the fact that the name of this spot is translated as ā€œDevil’s Bridgeā€ is enough to be convinced that Hudičev Most hides various chilling tales behind it. The ancient stone bridge in Slovenia is located near the village of Dovje and has been the site of numerous spooky legends. Advertisements The structure crosses a steep valley with a highway, and according to local lore, the dēvıl constructed this bridge. Believe it or not, the villagers traded their souls to the Dēvıl, so that he would build this bridge. And you know what the Devil’s condition was? The first creature to cross the bridge would lose its soul. Luckily, the people of the village were wise, and they outwitted the dēvıl — they put a dog on the bridge, and the trap closed on him. Indignant, the dēvıl supposedly swore, and to this day, his vengeful spırıt allegedly haunts the place of the bridge. Kobarid Museum The final eerie spot on our list is related to World War I and the event known as the Battles of the Isonzo. Other than the fact that this museum provokes a deep historical interest, it’s considered an ideal place for mystery enthusiasts. Set deep in the Soča Valley, the museum showcases items associated with the war, including the personal belongings of the deceased soldiers, and it is believed that those items’ souls still reside in the museum. Up to now, there have been numerous ā€˜eyewitness’ testimonies from museum employees and visitors. Some of them say that they have noticed moving objects. Others report sudden fąlling temperatures, the faint sounds of marching soldiers, and shots fired from a distance. While we don’t know whether all these paranormal occurrences actually happen or not, they do instill suspense. Final Thoughts Slovenia has several places that are believed to be haunt3d, and it is always intriguing to travel to them and learn more about the history of this country. This makes us encourage you to take advantage of these haunt3d places if you plan to visit the cultural landmarks of the country. Who knows, maybe you will end up being among those lucky ones who meet supernatural creatures along the way!
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r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago SimbaTheSavage8 Shock ā€œTake off your coat. Now.ā€ The words are cold and emotionless. The person ordering them wears a mask of stone. She looks down upon me with wire-rimmed glasses, from her great height, and though I am wearing my coat, I am shivering. ā€œI said, take off your coat!ā€ But I can’t. The temperature has plummeted over the past few days, and the cold is penetrating me to the bone. My fingers feel like they are made of ice, and I find it difficult to move them. Taking off this coat, which protects me like a suit of armor, will be suicide. She reaches towards me and tries to rip off the coat. I instinctively shrink back, wrapping my arms protectively around myself, and a low whine escapes my lips. My heart banging against my ribcage, I hug my knees, and sway and rock, sway and rock. Eventually my heartbeat starts to slow down. She growls in frustration. ā€œYou are testing my limits, boy. You know what happens when you don’t listen. Show him.ā€ She signals, and matrons march in. They grab me by my arms, my legs. Knowing what’s next, I try to wriggle away, but their grip is stronger than iron. My arms and legs flop uselessly by my side like a can of worms as they take me away. *** They lie me down on a wooden board, with chains hanging off to the sides. They strap the metal against my limbs, securing it tight so I can’t run. Then it starts. The device they strap me to sparks blue, and then the blue shoots up my spine. Pain burns into my nerves, cracks my bones. I cannot help myself. The guttural scream pierces the silence. Then they utter the dreaded command that burns into my ears till this day. ā€œHe screams. Do it again.ā€ SimbaTheSavage8 OP • 4y ago • Edited 4y ago I risk being banned from the sub and having my story removed in general to raise awareness on a very important issue: The Judge Rotenberg Centre
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5 Haunted Places in Estonia Horror Lovers Can’t Miss Estimated reading time — 3 minutes Estonia as a nation with a long history and intense focus on traditions and beliefs is also a country with a mysterious background full of spooky legends and gh0st stories that originated throughout centuries. In this Baltic country, visitors enjoy exploring numerous haunt3d regions that are considered haunt3d by supernatural creatures. Today, we’ll explore 5 of these spooky stops for ghost-tour lovers that are definitely worth visiting if you want to face the unknown of this mysterious nation. Officer’s Casino One glance, even from far away, at the Officer’s Casino is enough to understand why thrill-seekers don’t hesitate to go miles just to reach this haunted place on Naissaar Island. Officer’s Casino is an abandoned military casino that was once a pretty lively spot for Soviet officers. Today, all that remains are its ruins and ghostly tales people tell about shadowy figures walking across those ruins. Nevertheless, we have to admit that ancient haunt3d locations like the Officer’s Casino aren’t for everyone. In fact, some people in Estonia, especially those who are used to taking advantage of reputable online casino options in Estonia, might prefer a different kind of thrĆ­ll. Or at least, playing safely and securely from their homes, instead of being surrounded by supernatural stories from the 20th century. PƤdaste Manor PƤdaste Manor is another haunt3d place located on Estonian islands, this time at Muhu Island. It’s one of the best options for a luxury vacation that is truly away from the noise of the thousands of tourists arriving in the country because of its mysterious and sad history. The legends of the manor can be traced back to the 16th-century gh0st of the inhabitants. Interestingly, visitors who have stayed at the inn have described uncomfortable happenings, including light bulbs that flash, the sensation of cĆøld spots, and the sound of footsteps from rooms that were empty or no one around. Some people also believe that they witnessed paranormal experiences such as the sighting of a woman wearing a white dress moving around. Lately, locals said it could be the lost spırıt of a maid who d*ed in a mysterious way. Rataskaevu Street Horror lovers can easily visit Rataskaevu street as it’s right at the center of Tallinn, the capital of Estonia. The street is well-known in the area due to its mysterious history. Perhaps, the most intriguing anecdote connected with this street is the legend that it was scooped up by the Dēvıl himself. Once upon a time, the Dēvıl himself decided to throw a party in house number 16 Rataskaevu Street and after the party, he left behind an indelible stain on the ceiling in terms of its off-color that no amount of whitewash could ever take off. Even to date, people have reported seeing strange outlines and hearing noises through the night, which gives credence to the belief that the house is haunted. That’s why we warn you — you might experience a feeling of being watched when one is walking down Rataskaevu Street. So be prepared, this feeling can leave you rather uncomfortable. Haapsalu Castle Legends of white ladies haunting ancient castles can be found all over Europe and Estonia isn’t an exception. In fact, Haapsalu Castle is one of the most notorious haunted places in the country that has a terrific story behind it. Here, all the legends are about White ladies and everything starts from the 13th century. There must have been a woman who would fall in love with a canon, and so she dressed up like a choirboy so she could be nearer to the man she was in love with. However, eventually, her real identity was revealed to her captors and she was walled up aliĢØve for this ā€˜crime’. Her spırıt in the form of a White Lady is still seen at the castle in the window of the chapel, especially during the full moon of August. Locals believe that the gh0st of this White Lady haunts them and that the annual festival in its honor, the White Lady Festival, attracts visitors from all corners of the world. Kuressaare Castle The fifth haunted place that’s worth visiting is also a castle, since Estonia, in general, is full of mysterious castles. Kuressaare Castle is a beautiful mediev3l castle with a dark̵ past that stands on the island of Saaremaa. Its sh0cking history reveals that the castle was once a prıson where prisoners suffered terrible fates. That could be why people believe that the ghosts of the prisoners still roam. The most interesting legend that can be linked to Kuressaare Castle is the tale of the monk’s gh0st that is believed to haunt the castle at nıght, moving around in the Chapel. Kuressaare Castle is a historical building and exploring this castle in the wintertime will surely give you the creeps. Final Thoughts When it comes to the paranormal and creepy myths and truths Estonia is a country that has a lot to tell about history and legends. The best part is that no matter how much one disbelieves in paranormal and supernatural powers, visiting these haunt3d locations would be quite thrıllıng and might even make them start believing in haunt3d creatures. Thus, whenever you are in Estonia, do not miss out on the opportunity to visit these shivery places and use the services of an eerie spırıt.
Drunk and hopeless, he stumbled to the garage and started the table saw, then slowly lowered his wrists toward the screaming blxde. ā€˜Hands’ by minnboy 2027 The doctor pulled the stethoscope ear tips out and hung the device around his neck. ā€œSir, all of your tests have come back neg͘at͟ive and my examination shows nothing abnormal.ā€ He knew what was coming next, ā€œI’m not cRaZy, Doctor.ā€ ā€œI’m sorry, but there is no phŅÆsical reason for why you occasionally lose cĆøntrĆøl of your hands. A psychologist can helpā€¦ā€. ā€œI don’t need therapy. I need answers. They seem to have a lÄÆfe all their own. I can’t hold a jĆøb. I’m under ınvestıgatıon for as*ault. I almost kılled my neighbor. This can’t go on. I’ll try anything at this point.ā€ After two weeks on a new medıcatıon, he saw no progress҉ and grew increasingly depressed. He was convinced that despite what the doctors said, it was not a psychological prxblem. That night, frustrated and angry, sat in a chair and drank bourbon. Drunk and hopeless, he stumbled to the garage and started the table saw, then slowly lowered his wrists toward the screaming blxde. Detective entered the garage where several uniformed officers stood over the blood-soaked bĆødy. ā€œSo what do we get?ā€ he asked, taking in the blood-splattered sc3ne.ā€This is a weırd one, Detective.ā€ ā€œHow so?ā€ ā€œTake a look at the bĆødy. He apparently chopped Ę”ff his hands with the table saw and bled to dEath.ā€ Detective knelt. ā€œAnd?ā€ ā€œAnd we can’t find his hands anywhere.ā€
Memory Foam Nov 10th, 2015 Memory Foam "There's monsters under my bed!" Jimmy screamed throwing himself between his startled parents. Mommy wrapped him up while Daddy offered assurances that monsters weren't real. Jimmy pleaded with him to go make sure so he pulled himself up and plodded down the hall. All was well until they heard a loud thumping noise followed by silence. Jimmy's mother decided to check on her husband, leaving Jimmy alone in the dark. Jimmy heard the creaks of the floor and another loud thump; then silence. Jimmy lay there, hoping that his imagination was just running wild. He decided to go and find out what was going on. Tiptoeing his way around the creaking floorboards he peeked in through the keyhole to see his mother wiping the floor and his father leaned over his bed. Jimmy opened the door slowly. His mother hopped up, hiding her hands behind her back. "Sorry ," she said to him gently. "Your father slipped on a toy and tore your bed. He's sewing it back up and I'm just cleaning up." His dad finished and walked over to him. "Why don't you sleep with us tonight champ?" he said, as he picked him up. Jimmy fell asleep easily, safely tucked between his parents. Jimmy's parents seemed odd the next day. After dinner they put him to bed without a word. He realized that his bed felt very lumpy and wondered if his father had re-sewn it incorrectly. He went to find his parents, but the door was locked. He banged on it, but eventually made his way back to his lumpy bed and fell asleep. He questioned his parents the next morning about the bed and the door and his father sternly replied that he was too old to be afraid of monsters and they would be locking him in his room at night until he had gotten over it. That night was cold and sleep did not come quickly. Laying under his blanket he noticed that even with the fan blowing, something was beginning to smell. He tried to ignore it, but ended up sleeping on the floor. He convinced his parents to check his bed the following morning, but they found no smell or strange lumps. For lying, his father locked Jimmy in his room for the day. Time passed slowly and by late afternoon Jimmy was nauseous with hunger, made worse by the potent smell coming from his bed in the afternoon heat. Determined to find the smell, he cut open the line of stitching his father had sewn. There, surrounded by stuffing, were the decaying but recognizable, b0dies of his parents. He began to scream at the sight of their rotting skin. He kept screaming until a knock came on the door. "Jimmy? Are you okay?" Came his mother's voice, then his father's, "Remember Jimmy, there are no monsters under the bed." honeybadgerme2
The Ethics of Work Aug 14th, 2015 The Ethics of Work I have always taken great pride in my job, and in the type of work that I do. It’s been said that I lucked into my line of work. That may be true, but it is no fluke that I’ve taken it by the reins and become a master. It is sometimes very dirty work, but I never complaine. I’ve always believed that the bad parts of anything must be accepted right along with the good; that applies to one’s livelihood as well as anything else. I began honing my skills at a very young age. I didn’t know I was doing so, but fate dealt me a kind hand. How fortunate is it to walk into a profession that was naturally developed by things already done in the course of one’s life? Not many can say they’ve been blessed like that. My job takes no breaks for weather either. Hot, cold, rain, wind, all elements are simply ignored. When there is work to be done, I do it, and I ask no questions. A duty is a duty, and as I said before, I’m proud to perform that duty. I have always had that outlook, from working on the farm and cutting wood as a youth; things had to be done, and I did them with a song In my heart and a smile on my face. Speaking of smiles, my clients are always greeted with one. I think that is important. Not that the smiles were solely for my clientele; my joy in my work puts those smiles there, and no effort in the world could kept them off of my face. I guess it was inevitable that I’ve begun taking my work home with me. It’s said that if you love your job, you never truly work a day in your life. That certainly applies to me, and I practise my work as often as I can. I think that’s what gotten me into trouble. I’ve been relieved of my job, because of my ā€œoff the clockā€ work. I think that’s unfair, but I don’t make the rules. My job was always to help enforce the rules, and I have to respect that now, even though I’m now on the other side of them. I hear the grindstone outside, sharpening the big axe; the axe that I wielded so professionally and perfectly. I was state executioner, you see. In a few hours I get to meet my replacement.
5 Spooky Places in Norway for Thrill-Seeker Adventurers June 5, 2024 / Strange and Unexplained / 4 minutes of reading Estimated reading time — 3 minutes If you love horror stories and unusual experiences, then Norway might be the best possible place you can visit to satisfy your thrills. Gh0st tours and haunt3d attractions range from old castles that are believed to be haunt3d to mines with strange spirits. That’s why the country attracts tourists and adventure seekers from all over the world. Today, we’ll walk you through 5 of the most creepy places in Norway that are definitely worth visiting if you’re brave enough to handle the eerie tales. Akershus Fortress, Oslo This fantastic place is on the side of the hill of Oslo Fjord. Its history starts in the XIII century with pretty tense facts. Today, locals consider it among the most haunt3d sites in Norway. That’s because Mantelgeisten is said to be seen in the corridors of the building, accompanied by the cold breeze, dressed in a long gown. A dog’s spirits are also reportedly present at the fortress. Believe it or not, one of them is the demon dogĶ¢ Malcanisen, but unfortunately, anybody who is lucky enough to set eye's on the dogĶ¢ is believed to be đeađ. The atmosphere of Akershus Fortress is so chilling that the review of Helll Spin Casino in Norway even recommends visiting this haunt3d site for gamblers to whom just gambling on reliable websites isn’t enough and who are looking for some extra thrıllıng experience. Just be careful, if you visit this place at night, you should definitely expect an unforgettable and unusual experience. Nidaros Cathedral, Trondheim This cathedral is located on the grave of Saint Olav. This is where its dark̵ history came from. These mysteries include the ghostly figure of the Monk, who is known to wander around the Nidaros Cathedral Nidaros Cathedral, especially around the tomb area. Many visitors have pointed out that they experience sudden changes in the temperature and whispers of the unknown while exploring the cathedral. The mystical feeling surrounding Nidaros Cathedral makes it captivating to visit for those interested in paranormal or supernatural activity. Lier Sykehus, Lier Lier Sykehus is an actual structure – a mentαl asylum left unused in Buskerud County, Norway, that one could only describe as your typical horror flick haunt3d house. It was founded in the 1920s and functioned during the 1980s. Later, it was closed because of some unethical experiments and mysterious inhumane treatments that took place in the building. Since then, the children’s complex building has remained abandoned and deteriorated to attract such as gh0st hunters and challengers. It is said that to this very day, people heard the screams of a woman on the second floor, saw a man’s shadow moving across the wall, and felt an instant fear. Well-maintained corridors with actors breathıng down your neck, dark̵ cells, and relentless dim lighting make it a genuine horror factory for the ones who are interested in the history of lier sykehus. Fredriksten Fortress, Halden One of the best-known and most famous defensible structures is the Fredriksten Fortress, found in Halden, which is also considered a haunt3d place. The fortress became especially famous after the bĆ£ttlĆ© that took place in 1718 when King Charles XII of Sweden met his mysterious fate. Even after centuries, we still don’t know whether he was kılled intentionally or by accıdent. The folklore surrounding his dEath makes people believe that Alexander’s spırıt remains in the fortress to this day. Many heard moaning, footsteps, and a lot of things that are scary if you are too brave, for daring to stay there. RĆøros, SĆør-TrĆøndelag Finally, it is time to talk about an old mining city with a spooky background. RĆøros is a town that originated in the seventeenth century as a mining town, and the wooden houses and asymmetrical streets depict the historical ambiance of the city. However, many stories of the paranormal are in the town, mainly because of the highly miserable existence and fatal outcomes of the miners. Some of the most remarkable stories include the moonlight miner Johan Falkberget, who is believed to have d*ed, and his spırıt roaming the town. Some claims associated with paranormal incidents include cold breezing, flickering lights, and even ghostly/orbs-like objects. Such kind of spooky experiences and history make it a unique place in Norway where people can feel the energy of the unexplained possibility of being seen by ghcsts. Final Thoughts As you can see, many people see the gloomy and beautiful scenery of Norway as an ideal destination to encounter ghcsts and supernatural happenings. It doesn’t matter whether you’re an experienced gh0st hunter who’s looking for another adventure or just an ordinary citizen who decided to turn into a supernatural detective, one thing is for sure: these places will provide you with extraordinary experience. Plus, you’ll learn more about eerie aspects of Norwegian culture.
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https://spongebobwiki.org/wiki/Handemonium
š–¬š–ø š– š–“š–³š–Øš–²š–³š–Øš–¢ š–£š– š–£ Pt. 16 by NeuroFabulous The next morning, Karen goes into Chip's bedroom to wake him up for the long drive to Hanna's. She gently shakes his shoulder. "Chip," she whispers. Chip's eyes open. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Mom?" Karen smiles at him. "It's time to get ready," she says. "We're going to Hanna's." The excitement of the road trip fills him. He follows Karen to Plankton's bed, so they can wake him up for the trip. He's still asleep, his antennae twitching. Chip then hears his voice. "Plunk," he says in his sleep. Chip's eyes widen, his heart racing. He's never heard his dad talk in his sleep before. He leans in closer, his curiosity piqued. "Po," Plankton says. Karen's heard this before. It's Plankton's way of navigating his thoughts when he's asleep, a verbal stim of sorts. "What is he saying?" Chip whispers, his voice filled with wonder. Karen smiles softly. "It's just his brain processing," she says. "Sometimes, he talks in his sleep." Chip's eyes are wide with curiosity. She smiles gently. "It's just his brain working through the day," she says. "It's part of his autism." They watch as Plankton's mouth moves, his antennae twitching slightly. "Bom," he murmurs. Chip leans in, his heart racing. "What's he saying?" he whispers. Karen smiles softly. "It's just his way of dreaming aloud," she explains. "It's his brain working through things, like a verbal stim." Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his dad's face. "How do we wake him up, for our trip?" "Gently," Karen whispers, her hand moving to Plankton's shoulder. She gives it a soft shake. "Honey," she says. "It's time to wake up." Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye opening. "What?" he mumbles. "Oh, the trip." He sits up, his body stiff. Chip watches, his heart heavy with the knowledge of the night before. "You ok, Dad?" he asks, his voice tentative. Plankton nods, his antennae twitching. "I'm ok," he says. "Just tired." Karen nods. Karen drives as Chip and Plankton sit in the car's back seat. The car is quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound. Chip's eyes flick to the sensory box by his feet, filled with items to help Plankton cope on their journey. He's learned that his dad's stims are not just quirks, but tools. Plankton sits stiffly, his antennae twitching. Karen's voice floats back, soothing as they drive. "It'll be fun," she says. Chip looks out the window, his thoughts on his dad. He's seen the pain in his eye, the struggle to fit in a world that often doesn't get it. Plankton's autism is a part of him, like his love for science and his tiny size. The car rolls on, the scenery changing outside. Plankton's body starts to relax more. Chip watches, his heart full of love and a newfound respect for his father's strength. Karen notices Plankton's eye drooping and his antennae slowing their twitching. She knows the signs; he's getting tired. "Dad," Chip whispers. "You okay?" Plankton nods. But his nod is more of a reflex than an answer. His head tips back, and, he's asleep, his snores light but steady. Chip's eyes widen slightly, looking to Karen for guidance. She smiles. Karen glances in the rearview mirror, a smile ghosting her lips. "He's asleep, Chip," she says. "It's ok, it happens. Some people tend to doze off easily in cars." Chip nods, his eyes on his dad. Plankton's snores are a comforting sound, a sign that he's at ease. But Chip's mind is still racing. He looks at the sensory box again, his thoughts on the night's confrontation. He knows his dad's boundaries now, yet the desire to connect remains. He makes a silent promise to himself to be more respectful, more understanding. That evening, they finally arrive at Hanna's. Hanna is out front as Karen parks in her driveway. "Welcome, welcome!" she says, her eyes wide with excitement. Chip waves. Plankton is still asleep in his seat. Karen smiled as Hanna walks up to meet her friend's family. She leans into Karen's car. "Hi," Hanna says, smiling. But Plankton doesn't stir. His antennae twitch, but his eye stays closed. "He's out cold," Karen laughs. Karen opens the door, carefully unbuckling Plankton's seatbelt. His body moves slightly as he stirs. "Honey," she whispers, shaking his shoulder gently. "We're here." Plankton's eye opens, blinking sleepily. He looks around, his antennae twitching as he realizes, to his horror, that he fell asleep in the car. "Oh," he mumbles, his voice slightly embarrassed. Hanna's eyes light up when she sees him. "Plankton!" she exclaims. "And Chip right? Oh it's so nice to finally meet you!" But Plankton's antennae quiver with anxiety. New people, new place, new sounds, new smells. "Hi," he says. Chip watches his dad carefully, aware of his sensory sensitivities. He can see the tension in his dad's shoulders as he greets Hanna. "Come on in," Hanna says, smiling widely. "Make yourselves at home." So they get all their belongings and follow her to the guest room. Plankton's antennae twitch constantly as they enter the unfamiliar house. He clutches his travel bag tightly, feeling the weight of his sensory tools within. Hanna's house is a cacophony of colors and patterns. Chip's eyes wander, taking in the new sights, while Plankton's eye darts around the guest room. "This is where you'll be staying," Hanna says, her voice cheerful. "Make yourselves at home." Chip sets his bag down, but Plankton remains frozen, his antennae twitching rapidly. He looks around the room, his eye taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. Karen notices his discomfort and gives him a reassuring smile. "Why don't you sit down, Plankton?" she suggests. Plankton nods, his antennae twitching as he sits on the edge of the bed. Hanna's house is a sensory overload. The lights are bright, the patterns on the walls are overwhelming, and the smell of potpourri permeates the air. Chip's eyes adjust, but Plankton's eye squints, his stomach churning. Karen notices his distress and takes his hand. But he's determined to stay, his jaw clenched. "We're going to have fun, aren't we?" Hanna says, her voice bright. Plankton nods, his antennae still. Chip can see his dad's discomfort, the way he's fidgeting with his travel box. Hanna doesn't seem to notice, her attention on unpacking their bags. He approaches Plankton, his heart full of worry. "Dad," he says gently, "are you ok?" Plankton's antennae twitch, and he nods, but his body language says otherwise. Chip sits down beside him, his hand hovering over his dad's travel box. "Can I... help you find something?" Plankton's eye meets his, and for a moment, there's a flicker of something that might be gratitude. "No," he says, his voice firm. "This is mine." Chip nods, understanding dawning. "Okay," he says. "But if you need anything, I'm here." Plankton's antennae quiver, and he nods again. Karen smiles. Hanna's a burst of energy, her voice high and loud. "Oh, I am so excited!" she says. Plankton's antennae twitch rapidly, trying to keep up with the barrage of sensory information. Hanna doesn't seem to notice, her excitement filling the room. Chip watches his dad carefully, his heart breaking at the sight of his discomfort. He understands now, the importance of patience and empathy. He looks at his mom, who nods knowingly. Hanna, however, was not aware of this. She was overly affectionate and quite loud. "Oh, Plankton, I've heard so much about you!" Hanna gushed, leaning in and nudging him with an elbow. Plankton's antennae shoot straight up. The sudden contact is like a bolt of lightning to his senses. He flinches, despite trying to keep his condition from Hanna, whose expression barely falters. Chip watches, his eyes flicking between Hanna and his dad. He can see Plankton's discomfort, his body language screaming for space. He opens his mouth to say something, but Karen's look stops him. She knows Plankton better than anyone else, and she can see the tightrope he's walking. Plankton's antennae twitch. He clutches his travel box closer, his hand shaking slightly. Chip wants to reach out, but his dad's words from the night before echo in his mind. "Stims are personal," he'd said. "You can't just take them away." Instead, Chip watches his dad, his heart pounding. He's learned so much, but there's still so much to know. Hanna's laughter fills the room, yet Plankton's face is a picture of pain. But Hanna's on a roll. "So, Plankton," Hanna says, clapping her hands. "What do you like to do for fun?" Plankton's antennae quiver. "Huh? I enjoy... science," he says, his voice tight. Karen and Chip exchange a look. Hanna's energy is high, her words tumbling out faster than they can keep up with. Plankton's eye flits around the room, his antennae flicking rapidly. "Oh, science; now that's just wonderful!" Hanna exclaims, her hand now reaching out to Plankton's shoulder for a squeeze. The touch is too much. Plankton flinches, his body tensing. Hanna's hand freezes mid-air, her smile dropping. "Don't be shy," she says, pulling him into a hug. He's stiff in her arms, his antennae pressed against her shoulder. His face twists in pain, and he lets out a low moan. Hanna, who doesn't understand, then cackles with laughter. But Plankton's overwhelmed, and his mind is racing. The touch, the sound, the smell, it's all too much. He feels trapped, his antennae shooting up. His eye widens, his body stiffening. "Mom, I don't think Dad's okay," Chip says, his voice low. Karen's eyes dart to Plankton, her face a mask of concern. She nods, but it's too late. Plankton's body goes rigid in Hanna's embrace, his antennae shooting up. His eye widens, and his breathing becomes quick, shallow gasps. Karen knows what's happening. She's seen it before. "Hanna, please," she says, her voice firm. Hanna pulls back, her smile fading. "What's wrong?" she asks, her eyes filled with concern. But Plankton's body can't take it anymore.
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𒐫 ź§… .̷̼̣̭͆́̈́́̐.Ģ·Ķ„ĶĶĶ™ĢŖ.ĢµĶ‘ĢˆĢƒĶŒĶĢ„Ģ¼.ĢµĢ“Ģ‰ĢšĢ‚ĢˆĶ„ĢĶ˜Ķ€Ģ”Ģ˜Ģ—Ķ‡Ģ§Ģ²Ģ¼.Ģ·Ķ˜Ķ„Ķ’Ģ ĶˆĢŖĢ§Ģ”.Ģ·Ķ‘Ģ—Ģ£Ģœ.̢͉͔̬̓͐.Ģ·Ķ’Ģ‹Ģ”ĶœĶ•ĢžĢØĶ”ĢŗĢ­Ģ¢Ķ“.Ģ“ĶĢĢĢ€Ģ‡ĶˆĶ–Ģ¤Ģ„Ķ–ĶˆĢ˜Ķ“.ĢµĢ…Ģ”Ķ„Ķ‹ĶŒĶ†Ģ¦Ģ ĶŽĢ¬ĶŽĶ“Ģ­.Ģ·ĢŒĶ„ĢšĶ†Ģ›Ķ›ĢŒĶ˜Ģ”Ķ†Ģ§Ģ§Ģ¬Ģ„.ĢøĶ„Ģ‡Ķ˜ĢˆĢ‚Ķ’ĢĢŖĢ”.ĢµĢ‚ĶĢ¬Ģ„Ģ²ĢŖĢ±ĢžĢ­Ģ±.̫̓͂͑̀̅͠ͅ.ĢµĢ“ĢšĢĢ“ĢˆĶ‘Ģ—Ģ®Ģ”Ģ Ģ»Ģ”Ķ‰Ķˆ.Ģ¶ĢƒĢ›Ģ†Ķ€ĢŒĢƒĢØĶœĶ“Ģ—Ģ—Ķ•.ĢµĶ˜Ķ€ĶĶ—Ģ‚Ģ±.Ģ“Ķ‚Ģ›Ķ„ĢƒĶ˜ĢšĢ³Ķ™Ķ™ĢœĢ±Ķ–.Ģ¶Ķ˜Ķ‘ĶĢ©Ģ»Ģ®Ģ¼Ģ³ĢØ.ĢµĢĶ Ķ’ĢƒĢ¹.Ģ·Ģ¾ĢŽĢ…ĢŒĶˆĶŽĶ–Ģ»Ģ³Ģ®Ķ‡Ķ–.Ģ·ĢšĢŖĢ±Ģ—Ģ²ĢĢ©.Ģ·ĶĢ„ĶĢ‹Ķ Ģ¾ĢŒĢ‰ĶŠĢŖĢ¼Ģ°ĢžĢÆĶœĢ³Ķ…Ģ¬.ĢµĢˆĶ Ģ­Ģ®ĢžĢ©Ģ¹Ķ‡Ķ…ĶšĢ³Ķ”.Ģ¶Ķ†ĶŠĢ‘Ģ€Ķ˜ĢŖĶœĶ–ĢÆĶĶ“Ķ•.Ģ“Ģ½Ģ¼ĢŸĢžĶœĢ˜Ģ©.̵̫͛̐́̂̿̒.Ģ“ĶƒĢ²Ķ‰Ģ„ĢÆĢ°Ģ„Ģ®Ģ˜.ĢøĢ”Ķ‘Ķ‚Ķ„Ķ„ĢØĶ.Ģ·ĢˆĶ„Ķ†Ķ‘Ģ¬Ķ•Ģ Ģ³ĢŸ.ĢµĢŠĢ„ĶĢ¾ĢŒĶ†Ģ“ĢƒĶ‚Ģ½Ģ Ģ³Ģ”Ķˆ.̢̬͔͙̠̭͔̳̹̓͂̀̄.ĢµĢ‡Ķ†ĢĶ‘Ķ—Ģ‡Ģ‰ĢšĢ«Ģ§Ģ—Ģ°Ķ™.ĢµĢ…ĶšĢ¼Ģ™Ģ±Ģ§Ģ±Ģ–Ģ³.ĢøĢ“Ģ¾Ģ…ĶƒĶ€Ģ€Ķ’Ģ„Ģ‰ĢˆĢ„Ķ‡Ģ¤Ģ¦Ķ“ĢŸĶ“.ĢµĢ’ĢĢ‡Ģ‡Ķ„ĶĶ€Ģ³Ģ«Ģ¦Ķ”Ģ³ĢÆ.Ģ¶Ģ‰Ķ€Ķ‹Ķ”ĶœĢ¼ĢØĶ…Ģ–Ķˆ.ĢµĢ‰ĢŒĢ­ĢĢ§Ģ©Ģ„Ķ•Ģ«Ģ¬.ĢøĶ‚ĢŠĢĶƒĶĢ„ĢŠĢ•Ģ‘ĶŠĢ£Ģ”Ģ­Ģ™Ģ¢Ķ”Ģ»Ģ»Ģ.Ģ“Ķ Ģ³ĶŽĢ²ĢŸ.Ģ·Ģ‚Ģ›ĢĢæĢ’Ķ—Ģ’ĢŸĶ•Ķ”Ģ Ģ¦ĶĢ».Ģ“Ģ¾ĢŽĶƒĢ›ĶĢ¦Ģ¬Ģ¤ĶˆĶ‰Ķš.ĢµĢ¾ĢŸĢ»Ķ…Ķ‰Ģ—Ģ.Ģ·Ģ„ĢŒĢ½ĢŠĢŽĢ‘Ģ‹Ģ°Ģ©ĢĢœĢ¢Ģ”Ģ™.̷̼̣̭͆́̈́́̐.Ģ·Ķ„ĶĶĶ™ĢŖ.ĢµĶ‘ĢˆĢƒĶŒĶĢ„Ģ¼.ĢµĢ“Ģ‰ĢšĢ‚ĢˆĶ„ĢĶ˜Ķ€Ģ”Ģ˜Ģ—Ķ‡Ģ§Ģ²Ģ¼.Ģ·Ķ˜Ķ„Ķ’Ģ ĶˆĢŖĢ§Ģ”.Ģ·Ķ‘Ģ—Ģ£Ģœ.̢͉͔̬̓͐.Ģ·Ķ’Ģ‹Ģ”ĶœĶ•ĢžĢØĶ”ĢŗĢ­Ģ¢Ķ“.Ģ“ĶĢĢĢ€Ģ‡ĶˆĶ–Ģ¤Ģ„Ķ–ĶˆĢ˜Ķ“.ĢµĢ…Ģ”Ķ„Ķ‹ĶŒĶ†Ģ¦Ģ ĶŽĢ¬ĶŽĶ“Ģ­.Ģ·ĢŒĶ„ĢšĶ†Ģ›Ķ›ĢŒĶ˜Ģ”Ķ†Ģ§Ģ§Ģ¬Ģ„.ĢøĶ„Ģ‡Ķ˜ĢˆĢ‚Ķ’ĢĢŖĢ”.ĢµĢ‚ĶĢ¬Ģ„Ģ²ĢŖĢ±ĢžĢ­Ģ±.̫̓͂͑̀̅͠ͅ.ĢµĢ“ĢšĢĢ“ĢˆĶ‘Ģ—Ģ®Ģ”Ģ Ģ»Ģ”Ķ‰Ķˆ.Ģ¶ĢƒĢ›Ģ†Ķ€ĢŒĢƒĢØĶœĶ“Ģ—Ģ—Ķ•.ĢµĶ˜Ķ€ĶĶ—Ģ‚Ģ±.Ģ“Ķ‚Ģ›Ķ„ĢƒĶ˜ĢšĢ³Ķ™Ķ™ĢœĢ±Ķ–.Ģ¶Ķ˜Ķ‘ĶĢ©Ģ»Ģ®Ģ¼Ģ³ĢØ.ĢµĢĶ Ķ’ĢƒĢ¹.Ģ·Ģ¾ĢŽĢ…ĢŒĶˆĶŽĶ–Ģ»Ģ³Ģ®Ķ‡Ķ–.Ģ·ĢšĢŖĢ±Ģ—Ģ²ĢĢ©.Ģ·ĶĢ„ĶĢ‹Ķ Ģ¾ĢŒĢ‰ĶŠĢŖĢ¼Ģ°ĢžĢÆĶœĢ³Ķ…Ģ¬.ĢµĢˆĶ Ģ­Ģ®ĢžĢ©Ģ¹Ķ‡Ķ…ĶšĢ³Ķ”.Ģ¶Ķ†ĶŠĢ‘Ģ€Ķ˜ĢŖĶœĶ–ĢÆĶĶ“Ķ•.Ģ“Ģ½Ģ¼ĢŸĢžĶœĢ˜Ģ©.̵̫͛̐́̂̿̒.Ģ“ĶƒĢ²Ķ‰Ģ„ĢÆĢ°Ģ„Ģ®Ģ˜.ĢøĢ”Ķ‘Ķ‚Ķ„Ķ„ĢØĶ.Ģ·ĢˆĶ„Ķ†Ķ‘Ģ¬Ķ•Ģ Ģ³ĢŸ.ĢµĢŠĢ„ĶĢ¾ĢŒĶ†Ģ“ĢƒĶ‚Ģ½Ģ Ģ³Ģ”Ķˆ.̢̬͔͙̠̭͔̳̹̓͂̀̄.ĢµĢ‡Ķ†ĢĶ‘Ķ—Ģ‡Ģ‰ĢšĢ«Ģ§Ģ—Ģ°Ķ™.ĢµĢ…ĶšĢ¼Ģ™Ģ±Ģ§Ģ±Ģ–Ģ³.ĢøĢ“Ģ¾Ģ…ĶƒĶ€Ģ€Ķ’Ģ„Ģ‰ĢˆĢ„Ķ‡Ģ¤Ģ¦Ķ“ĢŸĶ“.ĢµĢ’ĢĢ‡Ģ‡Ķ„ĶĶ€Ģ³Ģ«Ģ¦Ķ”Ģ³ĢÆ.Ģ¶Ģ‰Ķ€Ķ‹Ķ”ĶœĢ¼ĢØĶ…Ģ–Ķˆ.ĢµĢ‰ĢŒĢ­ĢĢ§Ģ©Ģ„Ķ•Ģ«Ģ¬.ĢøĶ‚ĢŠĢĶƒĶĢ„ĢŠĢ•Ģ‘ĶŠĢ£Ģ”Ģ­Ģ™Ģ¢Ķ”Ģ»Ģ»Ģ.Ģ“Ķ Ģ³ĶŽĢ²ĢŸ.Ģ·Ģ‚Ģ›ĢĢæĢ’Ķ—Ģ’ĢŸĶ•Ķ”Ģ Ģ¦ĶĢ».Ģ“Ģ¾ĢŽĶƒĢ›ĶĢ¦Ģ¬Ģ¤ĶˆĶ‰Ķš.ĢµĢ¾ĢŸĢ»Ķ…Ķ‰Ģ—Ģ.Ģ·Ģ„ĢŒĢ½ĢŠĢŽĢ‘Ģ‹Ģ°Ģ©ĢĢœĢ¢Ģ”Ģ™.̷̼̣̭͆́̈́́̐.Ģ·Ķ„ĶĶĶ™ĢŖ.ĢµĶ‘ĢˆĢƒĶŒĶĢ„Ģ¼.ĢµĢ“Ģ‰ĢšĢ‚ĢˆĶ„ĢĶ˜Ķ€Ģ”Ģ˜Ģ—Ķ‡Ģ§Ģ²Ģ¼.Ģ·Ķ˜Ķ„Ķ’Ģ ĶˆĢŖĢ§Ģ”.Ģ·Ķ‘Ģ—Ģ£Ģœ.̢͉͔̬̓͐.Ģ·Ķ’Ģ‹Ģ”ĶœĶ•ĢžĢØĶ”ĢŗĢ­Ģ¢Ķ“.Ģ“ĶĢĢĢ€Ģ‡ĶˆĶ–Ģ¤Ģ„Ķ–ĶˆĢ˜Ķ“.ĢµĢ…Ģ”Ķ„Ķ‹ĶŒĶ†Ģ¦Ģ ĶŽĢ¬ĶŽĶ“Ģ­.Ģ·ĢŒĶ„ĢšĶ†Ģ›Ķ›ĢŒĶ˜Ģ”Ķ†Ģ§Ģ§Ģ¬Ģ„.ĢøĶ„Ģ‡Ķ˜ĢˆĢ‚Ķ’ĢĢŖĢ”.ĢµĢ‚ĶĢ¬Ģ„Ģ²ĢŖĢ±ĢžĢ­Ģ±.̫̓͂͑̀̅͠ͅ.ĢµĢ“ĢšĢĢ“ĢˆĶ‘Ģ—Ģ®Ģ”Ģ Ģ»Ģ”Ķ‰Ķˆ.Ģ¶ĢƒĢ›Ģ†Ķ€ĢŒĢƒĢØĶœĶ“Ģ—Ģ—Ķ•.ĢµĶ˜Ķ€ĶĶ—Ģ‚Ģ±.Ģ“Ķ‚Ģ›Ķ„ĢƒĶ˜ĢšĢ³Ķ™Ķ™ĢœĢ±Ķ–.Ģ¶Ķ˜Ķ‘ĶĢ©Ģ»Ģ®Ģ¼Ģ³ĢØ.ĢµĢĶ Ķ’ĢƒĢ¹.Ģ·Ģ¾ĢŽĢ…ĢŒĶˆĶŽĶ–Ģ»Ģ³Ģ®Ķ‡Ķ–.Ģ·ĢšĢŖĢ±Ģ—Ģ²ĢĢ©.Ģ·ĶĢ„ĶĢ‹Ķ Ģ¾ĢŒĢ‰ĶŠĢŖĢ¼Ģ°ĢžĢÆĶœĢ³Ķ…Ģ¬.ĢµĢˆĶ Ģ­Ģ®ĢžĢ©Ģ¹Ķ‡Ķ…ĶšĢ³Ķ”.Ģ¶Ķ†ĶŠĢ‘Ģ€Ķ˜ĢŖĶœĶ–ĢÆĶĶ“Ķ•.Ģ“Ģ½Ģ¼ĢŸĢžĶœĢ˜Ģ©.̵̫͛̐́̂̿̒.Ģ“ĶƒĢ²Ķ‰Ģ„ĢÆĢ°Ģ„Ģ®Ģ˜.ĢøĢ”Ķ‘Ķ‚Ķ„Ķ„ĢØĶ.Ģ·ĢˆĶ„Ķ†Ķ‘Ģ¬Ķ•Ģ Ģ³ĢŸ.ĢµĢŠĢ„ĶĢ¾ĢŒĶ†Ģ“ĢƒĶ‚Ģ½Ģ Ģ³Ģ”Ķˆ.̢̬͔͙̠̭͔̳̹̓͂̀̄.ĢµĢ‡Ķ†ĢĶ‘Ķ—Ģ‡Ģ‰ĢšĢ«Ģ§Ģ—Ģ°Ķ™.ĢµĢ…ĶšĢ¼Ģ™Ģ±Ģ§Ģ±Ģ–Ģ³.ĢøĢ“Ģ¾Ģ…ĶƒĶ€Ģ€Ķ’Ģ„Ģ‰ĢˆĢ„Ķ‡Ģ¤Ģ¦Ķ“ĢŸĶ“.ĢµĢ’ĢĢ‡Ģ‡Ķ„ĶĶ€Ģ³Ģ«Ģ¦Ķ”Ģ³ĢÆ.Ģ¶Ģ‰Ķ€Ķ‹Ķ”ĶœĢ¼ĢØĶ…Ģ–Ķˆ.ĢµĢ‰ĢŒĢ­ĢĢ§Ģ©Ģ„Ķ•Ģ«Ģ¬.ĢøĶ‚ĢŠĢĶƒĶĢ„ĢŠĢ•Ģ‘ĶŠĢ£Ģ”Ģ­Ģ™Ģ¢Ķ”Ģ»Ģ»Ģ.Ģ“Ķ Ģ³ĶŽĢ²ĢŸ.Ģ·Ģ‚Ģ›ĢĢæĢ’Ķ—Ģ’ĢŸĶ•Ķ”Ģ Ģ¦ĶĢ».Ģ“Ģ¾ĢŽĶƒĢ›ĶĢ¦Ģ¬Ģ¤ĶˆĶ‰Ķš.ĢµĢ¾ĢŸĢ»Ķ…Ķ‰Ģ—Ģ.Ģ·Ģ„ĢŒĢ½ĢŠĢŽĢ‘Ģ‹Ģ°Ģ©ĢĢœĢ¢Ģ”Ģ™.̷̼̣̭͆́̈́́̐.Ģ·Ķ„ĶĶĶ™ĢŖ.ĢµĶ‘ĢˆĢƒĶŒĶĢ„Ģ¼.ĢµĢ“Ģ‰ĢšĢ‚ĢˆĶ„ĢĶ˜Ķ€Ģ”Ģ˜Ģ—Ķ‡Ģ§Ģ²Ģ¼.Ģ·Ķ˜Ķ„Ķ’Ģ ĶˆĢŖĢ§Ģ”.Ģ·Ķ‘Ģ—Ģ£Ģœ.̢͉͔̬̓͐.Ģ·Ķ’Ģ‹Ģ”ĶœĶ•ĢžĢØĶ”ĢŗĢ­Ģ¢Ķ“.Ģ“ĶĢĢĢ€Ģ‡ĶˆĶ–Ģ¤Ģ„Ķ–ĶˆĢ˜Ķ“.ĢµĢ…Ģ”Ķ„Ķ‹ĶŒĶ†Ģ¦Ģ ĶŽĢ¬ĶŽĶ“Ģ­.Ģ·ĢŒĶ„ĢšĶ†Ģ›Ķ›ĢŒĶ˜Ģ”Ķ†Ģ§Ģ§Ģ¬Ģ„.ĢøĶ„Ģ‡Ķ˜ĢˆĢ‚Ķ’ĢĢŖĢ”.ĢµĢ‚ĶĢ¬Ģ„Ģ²ĢŖĢ±ĢžĢ­Ģ±.̫̓͂͑̀̅͠ͅ.ĢµĢ“ĢšĢĢ“ĢˆĶ‘Ģ—Ģ®Ģ”Ģ Ģ»Ģ”Ķ‰Ķˆ.Ģ¶ĢƒĢ›Ģ†Ķ€ĢŒĢƒĢØĶœĶ“Ģ—Ģ—Ķ•.ĢµĶ˜Ķ€ĶĶ—Ģ‚Ģ±.Ģ“Ķ‚Ģ›Ķ„ĢƒĶ˜ĢšĢ³Ķ™Ķ™ĢœĢ±Ķ–.Ģ¶Ķ˜Ķ‘ĶĢ©Ģ»Ģ®Ģ¼Ģ³ĢØ.ĢµĢĶ Ķ’ĢƒĢ¹.Ģ·Ģ¾ĢŽĢ…ĢŒĶˆĶŽĶ–Ģ»Ģ³Ģ®Ķ‡Ķ–.Ģ·ĢšĢŖĢ±Ģ—Ģ²ĢĢ©.Ģ·ĶĢ„ĶĢ‹Ķ Ģ¾ĢŒĢ‰ĶŠĢŖĢ¼Ģ°ĢžĢÆĶœĢ³Ķ…Ģ¬.ĢµĢˆĶ Ģ­Ģ®ĢžĢ©Ģ¹Ķ‡Ķ…ĶšĢ³Ķ”.Ģ¶Ķ†ĶŠĢ‘Ģ€Ķ˜ĢŖĶœĶ–ĢÆĶĶ“Ķ•.Ģ“Ģ½Ģ¼ĢŸĢžĶœĢ˜Ģ©.̵̫͛̐́̂̿̒.Ģ“ĶƒĢ²Ķ‰Ģ„ĢÆĢ°Ģ„Ģ®Ģ˜.ĢøĢ”Ķ‘Ķ‚Ķ„Ķ„ĢØĶ.Ģ·ĢˆĶ„Ķ†Ķ‘Ģ¬Ķ•Ģ Ģ³ĢŸ.ĢµĢŠĢ„ĶĢ¾ĢŒĶ†Ģ“ĢƒĶ‚Ģ½Ģ Ģ³Ģ”Ķˆ.̢̬͔͙̠̭͔̳̹̓͂̀̄.ĢµĢ‡Ķ†ĢĶ‘Ķ—Ģ‡Ģ‰ĢšĢ«Ģ§Ģ—Ģ°Ķ™.ĢµĢ…ĶšĢ¼Ģ™Ģ±Ģ§Ģ±Ģ–Ģ³.ĢøĢ“Ģ¾Ģ…ĶƒĶ€Ģ€Ķ’Ģ„Ģ‰ĢˆĢ„Ķ‡Ģ¤Ģ¦Ķ“ĢŸĶ“.ĢµĢ’ĢĢ‡Ģ‡Ķ„ĶĶ€Ģ³Ģ«Ģ¦Ķ”Ģ³ĢÆ.Ģ¶Ģ‰Ķ€Ķ‹Ķ”ĶœĢ¼ĢØĶ…Ģ–Ķˆ.ĢµĢ‰ĢŒĢ­ĢĢ§Ģ©Ģ„Ķ•Ģ«Ģ¬.ĢøĶ‚ĢŠĢĶƒĶĢ„ĢŠĢ•Ģ‘ĶŠĢ£Ģ”Ģ­Ģ™Ģ¢Ķ”Ģ»Ģ»Ģ.Ģ“Ķ Ģ³ĶŽĢ²ĢŸ.Ģ·Ģ‚Ģ›ĢĢæĢ’Ķ—Ģ’ĢŸĶ•Ķ”Ģ Ģ¦ĶĢ».Ģ“Ģ¾ĢŽĶƒĢ›ĶĢ¦Ģ¬Ģ¤ĶˆĶ‰Ķš.ĢµĢ¾ĢŸĢ»Ķ…Ķ‰Ģ—Ģ.Ģ·Ģ„ĢŒĢ½ĢŠĢŽĢ‘Ģ‹Ģ°Ģ©ĢĢœĢ¢Ģ”Ģ™.̷̼̣̭͆́̈́́̐.Ģ·Ķ„ĶĶĶ™ĢŖ.ĢµĶ‘ĢˆĢƒĶŒĶĢ„Ģ¼.ĢµĢ“Ģ‰ĢšĢ‚ĢˆĶ„ĢĶ˜Ķ€Ģ”Ģ˜Ģ—Ķ‡Ģ§Ģ²Ģ¼.Ģ·Ķ˜Ķ„Ķ’Ģ ĶˆĢŖĢ§Ģ”.Ģ·Ķ‘Ģ—Ģ£Ģœ.̢͉͔̬̓͐.Ģ·Ķ’Ģ‹Ģ”ĶœĶ•ĢžĢØĶ”ĢŗĢ­Ģ¢Ķ“.Ģ“ĶĢĢĢ€Ģ‡ĶˆĶ–Ģ¤Ģ„Ķ–ĶˆĢ˜Ķ“.ĢµĢ…Ģ”Ķ„Ķ‹ĶŒĶ†Ģ¦Ģ ĶŽĢ¬ĶŽĶ“Ģ­.Ģ·ĢŒĶ„ĢšĶ†Ģ›Ķ›ĢŒĶ˜Ģ”Ķ†Ģ§Ģ§Ģ¬Ģ„.ĢøĶ„Ģ‡Ķ˜ĢˆĢ‚Ķ’ĢĢŖĢ”.ĢµĢ‚ĶĢ¬Ģ„Ģ²ĢŖĢ±ĢžĢ­Ģ±.̫̓͂͑̀̅͠ͅ.ĢµĢ“ĢšĢĢ“ĢˆĶ‘Ģ—Ģ®Ģ”Ģ Ģ»Ģ”Ķ‰Ķˆ.Ģ¶ĢƒĢ›Ģ†Ķ€ĢŒĢƒĢØĶœĶ“Ģ—Ģ—Ķ•.ĢµĶ˜Ķ€ĶĶ—Ģ‚Ģ±.Ģ“Ķ‚Ģ›Ķ„ĢƒĶ˜ĢšĢ³Ķ™Ķ™ĢœĢ±Ķ–.Ģ¶Ķ˜Ķ‘ĶĢ©Ģ»Ģ®Ģ¼Ģ³ĢØ.ĢµĢĶ Ķ’ĢƒĢ¹.Ģ·Ģ¾ĢŽĢ…ĢŒĶˆĶŽĶ–Ģ»Ģ³Ģ®Ķ‡Ķ–.Ģ·ĢšĢŖĢ±Ģ—Ģ²ĢĢ©.Ģ·ĶĢ„ĶĢ‹Ķ Ģ¾ĢŒĢ‰ĶŠĢŖĢ¼Ģ°ĢžĢÆĶœĢ³Ķ…Ģ¬.ĢµĢˆĶ Ģ­Ģ®ĢžĢ©Ģ¹Ķ‡Ķ…ĶšĢ³Ķ”.Ģ¶Ķ†ĶŠĢ‘Ģ€Ķ˜ĢŖĶœĶ–ĢÆĶĶ“Ķ•.Ģ“Ģ½Ģ¼ĢŸĢžĶœĢ˜Ģ©.̵̫͛̐́̂̿̒.Ģ“ĶƒĢ²Ķ‰Ģ„ĢÆĢ°Ģ„Ģ®Ģ˜.ĢøĢ”Ķ‘Ķ‚Ķ„Ķ„ĢØĶ.Ģ·ĢˆĶ„Ķ†Ķ‘Ģ¬Ķ•Ģ Ģ³ĢŸ.ĢµĢŠĢ„ĶĢ¾ĢŒĶ†Ģ“ĢƒĶ‚Ģ½Ģ Ģ³Ģ”Ķˆ.̢̬͔͙̠̭͔̳̹̓͂̀̄.ĢµĢ‡Ķ†ĢĶ‘Ķ—Ģ‡Ģ‰ĢšĢ«Ģ§Ģ—Ģ°Ķ™.ĢµĢ…ĶšĢ¼Ģ™Ģ±Ģ§Ģ±Ģ–Ģ³.ĢøĢ“Ģ¾Ģ…ĶƒĶ€Ģ€Ķ’Ģ„Ģ‰ĢˆĢ„Ķ‡Ģ¤Ģ¦Ķ“ĢŸĶ“.ĢµĢ’ĢĢ‡Ģ‡Ķ„ĶĶ€Ģ³Ģ«Ģ¦Ķ”Ģ³ĢÆ.Ģ¶Ģ‰Ķ€Ķ‹Ķ”ĶœĢ¼ĢØĶ…Ģ–Ķˆ.ĢµĢ‰ĢŒĢ­ĢĢ§Ģ©Ģ„Ķ•Ģ«Ģ¬.ĢøĶ‚ĢŠĢĶƒĶĢ„ĢŠĢ•Ģ‘ĶŠĢ£Ģ”Ģ­Ģ™Ģ¢Ķ”Ģ»Ģ»Ģ.Ģ“Ķ Ģ³ĶŽĢ²ĢŸ.Ģ·Ģ‚Ģ›ĢĢæĢ’Ķ—Ģ’ĢŸĶ•Ķ”Ģ Ģ¦ĶĢ».Ģ“Ģ¾ĢŽĶƒĢ›ĶĢ¦Ģ¬Ģ¤ĶˆĶ‰Ķš.ĢµĢ¾ĢŸĢ»Ķ…Ķ‰Ģ—Ģ.Ģ·Ģ„ĢŒĢ½ĢŠĢŽĢ‘Ģ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š–³š–® š–«š–¤š– š–±š–­ part 6 (š–»š—’ š–­š–¾š—Žš—‹š—ˆš–„š–ŗš–»š—Žš—…š—ˆš—Žš—Œ) When it was all done, Plankton was still, his chest rising and falling steadily. Karen watched him, her heart aching with a mix of relief and love. His face was so peaceful, his antennae laying flat against his pillow. The surgery had been quick, but it felt like an eternity. She had sat there, her eyes never straying from her husband's face, willing him to be okay. She kissed Plankton's forehead. The frog toy still clutched in his hand, the soft rise and fall of his chest, the gentle snore escaping his lips. Plankton's single eye was closed, the tension around his mouth had relaxed, and a line of drool was making its slow descent from his bottom lip. Karen couldn't help but smile. "It's normal," Dr. Barry chuckles. But to Karen, it was a rare glimpse into his vulnerability, something he rarely allowed others to see. Underneath the bravado and the obsession with stealing the Krabby Patty, he was just a man who at times just needed help. The sight of his drool was oddly comforting, a symbol of his complete surrender to the lingering anesthesia. Dr. Barry let Chip in. "You can sit with him," Dr. Barry told Chip. Plankton was still unconscious, his breathing deep and even. Karen squeezed Chip's shoulder. "It's okay," she whispered. "He'll wake up soon." Chip nodded, as the dental assistant put gauze into Plankton's mouth. "When coming out of anesthesia one might feel groggy. With autism, autistics can seemingly regress. In other words, his autism might be more prominent today. Some might be semi-nonverbal or hyperverbal, all due to lingering anesthesia. Disorientation is common, usually lasting a day. After he's asleep, we used local anesthetic to numb the surgical areas, which also can last for a day." Nurse Nancy explained. "So in other words, his mouth will be numb and he might act loopy." Chip's eyes were wide with fear. "It's okay," she assured him. "This is just part of his recovery." Plankton began to stir, his antennae twitching slightly. "Mmph," he mumbled, his mouth full of gauze. Karen chuckled softly. "Looks like he's waking up," she said. Chip watched, his heart racing as his father's eye flutters open, looking around the room in confusion. Plankton's voice was slurred and garbled as he tried to speak around the numbness and gauze. "Whwat... whwere... wham?" he asked, his single eye blinking slowly. "Mwisdoom...?" Chip couldn't help but chuckle, despite the seriousness of the situation. "You're okay, Dad," he said, his voice shaky with relief. "You just had some teeth taken out here at the dentist." Plankton's eye focused on Chip, his antennae twitching slightly. "Teef?" he slurred. Chip nodded. "Wisdom teeth," Karen explained. "They had to be removed. What do you remember?" Plankton blinked, his expression hazy. "Karen... mask... flawgy... teef..." He was trying to piece together the events of the morning, but the anesthesia had left him feeling loopy. His eye searched the room, finally landing on the nurse who had given him the frog toy. "Thamks... fow... fwog," he mumbled, holding up the toy. The nurse, Clara, smiled at him. "It's okay, Mr. Plankton. You're all done," she said, her voice kind. "You're going to go home soon." Karen chuckled. "Aw! He's thanking you for the frog," she interpreted. "Tell the nice lady how it helped you, Plankton." With his mouth still full of gauze, Plankton managed a "Mm hmph," his antennae bobbing in agreement. He squeezed the frog tighter, the texture comforting him even in his groggy state. Chip couldn't help but laugh at his dad's slurred speech. "You're so funny, Dad," he said, his voice light. Nurse Clara chuckled and nodded. "It's not uncommon," she said. "Anesthesia can make people say some pretty funny things." Plankton's eye widened slightly, and he tried to talk again. "Karen... bwake... me... bweaky?" Karen couldn't help but laugh at her husband's slurred speech. "Sure, sweetie, whatever you say." Karen helped Plankton sit up. He took a deep breath, the frog toy still clutched in his hand. "Hometh... now’n?" he managed to ask, his voice still thick with anesthesia. "Yes, we're going home soon," Karen assured him, wiping away the drool that had collected on his chin. "First, we'll get you cleaned up, and then we'll go." Chip watched, his anxiety fading into relief. His dad was going to be okay.
. 9 years ago The First of Many I’m sleeping in my bed. A creaking sound comes from outside my bedroom window. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s 12:04. I always wake up at 12:04. The creaking gets louder and more intense. I roll out of bed and open my curtains to see what’s causing the noise. There in the yard is a tall, thin black figure with a pale white face. It has no nose, and just two empty sockets for eyes. It’s oblong mouth is shaking, obviously the source of the creaking noise. The thing’s cheekbones are sunken in, and it’s ribs jut out of it's shadowy skin. There’s an aura of smog surrounding it. As soon as I look into it’s lifeless sockets it releases an ear piercing shriek. I let go of the curtains and run to my door. I have to warn my parents and make sure my sister is safe. As soon as I open the door it’s in my hallway waiting. I freeze. The air turns icy. It slowly reaches one of it's long skinny arms towards me. I still can’t move. It has three long jagged fingers. Being this close, I can see that it's flesh is scarred, twisted and torn. Blacker than anything I’ve ever seen. It’s longest finger hooks under my jaw, and through my mouth. I try to scream but nothing but a wet gurgle comes out. A proud hum comes from the thing’s chest. It seems proud. It lifts me off my feet and pins me to the wall by my chin. It’s other hand slowly digs all three of it's dagger- like fingers into my neck. I’m choking now. It releases me, and I slide down the wall. It looks down at me and my vision starts to flicker. Then it turns, and with two long strides, sneaks into my parents bedroom. I try making any kind of noise to warn them, but nothing comes out. I hear muffled screaming. Then nothing. It pokes it’s head out of the door to make sure I’m still watching. Then it drags my parent’s bloodĘ“ corpses into the hallway. Their throats are slit. It lays them side by side in front of me. Only a foot away from my forehead. I squeeze my eyes shut and wish to dıe already. I feel claws on my eyes. It pinches my eyelids and with one fluid motion rips them both off. Everything burns. I can barely make out my parents’ faces through all the red. It leans down and presses it's cheek to theirs. The corners of it's dark mouth lift into a wicked grin. Everything goes black. I wake up in bed. It’s 12:04. There’s a creaking coming from the window.
BĢ“ĢˆĶ„Ķ›ĶŒĶ ĶĢ®Ģ™Ģ¤ĢŸĶœĢ¼Ķ‡Ģ»ĶŽĶšĢœĢ£Ģ­Ģ„EĢøĢŠĶ—ĢŒĶ€ĢæĶ†Ķ“ĢŸĶ“Ķ•ĢœĢ–Ģ¤Ģ­Ķ…Ģ§Ģ™ Ģ“ĢŽĢ‰Ģ“Ģ†ĶŠĢ‡ĢĶ‘Ģ†ĶĢŠĢ‹ĶƒĶ—Ķ‚Ģ©Ģ–NĢ¶Ģ¾ĶŠĢæĢ‹Ģ†Ķ ĶĶ†Ģ†Ģ…Ķ’ĶĢĢžĶ–Ģ™Ķ…Ģ„Ģ©Ķ…ĶšĶ‰Ķ–Ģ¢Ģ¬Ģ­OĢ·Ķ„ĢĢĢĶ‘Ģ»Ģ³Ģ°TĢ¶Ķ„ĶĢĶĢ¤Ģ¼Ģ¹Ķ™ĶœĢ„ĶĢžĶ‰Ķ”Ģ°Ķ‰Ģ— ĢµĶŒĶ’Ģ¾Ķ‹Ķ•Ķ”ĢŖĢ¬ĶˆĶšĢžĢØĢÆĶ™AĢ“Ģ¾ĢƒĶƒĶ‘Ķ‚Ģ“Ķ‘ĶĶ›ĶŠĶ†ĢĶ•Ģ»Ģ§FĢ“Ģ‹Ģ‚ĶŒĢ¾ĶĶĢŒĶŒĶ„Ģ¾ĢĢŠĢ¤Ķ…ĢŸĢŸĶ“Ģ©Ģ£RĢ·Ģ‘ĶĶĶ˜Ģ•ĶŠĢ°Ģ¹Ģ«ĶˆĢŗĢ±Ģ¦ĶˆĶšĶ‰Ģ¹AĢøĢ†Ģ‚Ķ‘Ģ†Ģ”Ģ½Ģ„Ķ„Ģ¾ĢĶ—Ģ‹Ķ‘Ģ‚ĢÆĢ­ĢžĶ‡Ģ»Ķ‡ĢœĶŽĶ‰Ķ•ĢĶœĢ®ĢŸIĢøĶ‘Ģ•Ģ”Ģ†ĢŒĢŽĢžĢžĢ¦ĶšĢ¹ĶŽĢÆĢ°ĶĶ”Ģ¢Ģ¬Ķ‡DĢ·ĢŒĶĢÆĢ±ĢžĶˆĢ²Ķ”
TOOTH AFTERNOON iv The car’s engine hummed a soothing tune, and Karen’s voice was a gentle guide in the background. ā€œAlmost home, love. Just a few more minutes,ā€ she said, her screen never leaving the road. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his mind a tangled mess of half-formed thoughts. ā€œHuh?ā€ he mumbled, his voice a slurred echo. Karen’s smile was a soft guiding light. ā€œWe’re almost home, Plankton. Just a bit more, ok?ā€ she said, her voice a gentle reminder of the warmth that awaited them. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his thoughts a jumble of confusion and pain. ā€œHome...moth...ā€ he managed, his words still a slurred mess. Karen’s smile was a warm reassurance. ā€œYes, Plankton. Home. Just a few minutes more,ā€ she said, her voice a gentle reminder of the comfort that was almost within reach. ā€œMoth...no...moth...no...ā€ his words made no sense. Karen’s smile grew, her eyes on the road ahead. ā€œAlmost there, Plankton. We’re just passing the park. You can see the swings?ā€ she asked, her voice a gentle reminder of the world outside. Plankton’s gaze drifted to the window, his eye searching for familiar landmarks. ā€œSwings...?ā€ his voice a sleepy question. Karen nodded, pointing out the car window. ā€œYes, Plankton. The park. Remember, we come here sometimes to walk?ā€ Plankton’s eye searched the blur of green outside, his mind trying to piece together the puzzle of the world. ā€œWalsh?ā€ he murmured, his speech still slurred and slow. Karen chuckled, her voice a warm embrace. ā€œYes, sweetie. We’ll walk in the park once you’re all healed up, ok?ā€ she said, her eyes flickering to his reflection in the rearview mirror. The car pulled into the garage, the sudden darkness a stark contrast to the bright afternoon outside. Karen turned to him, her smile a gentle reminder of her presence. ā€œAlright, Plankton. We’re home. Can you sit up for me?ā€ she asked, her voice a soft guide back to reality. Plankton’s movements were slow, his body still fighting against the anesthesia’s grip. He nodded, his hand reaching for the car door. Karen was there in an instant, opening it for him and helping him to his feet. His legs felt like jelly, and he leaned heavily on her as they made their way to the house. The door creaked open, and the familiar scents of home wrapped around them like a comforting blanket. Plankton’s eye searched the room, his mind grasping for any semblance of normalcy. Karen guided him to their bedroom, the softness of the bed calling to him like a siren’s song. She helped him lay down, his body sinking into the mattress with a sigh of relief. His eyelid grew heavy, his thoughts drifting like leaves on a lazy river. Karen tucks him in. ā€œNow, would you likeā€¦ā€ But Plankton’s eye had already drifted shut, his body surrendering to the siren call of sleep. His snores grew steady and deep, the gauze in his mouth muffling the sound. Karen watched him. She knew the recovery ahead would be long and difficult, but she was ready to face it with him. With a soft sigh, she went to the kitchen and retrieved the chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. She placed it on the nightstand, ready for when his hunger would inevitably wake him. She then gathered his favorite pillow, propping it under his head to elevate it slightly, hoping to reduce any swelling that might come. The house was eerily quiet, the only sounds being Plankton’s soft snores and the occasional tick of the grandfather clock downstairs. Karen felt a pang of loneliness in the absence of their usual banter, but she pushed it aside, focusing on his recovery. With tender care, she changed his gauze, the blood slowly seeping through a stark reminder of the surgery. She flinched at the sight, but quickly composed herself. She was his rock, his anchor in the storm of pain and confusion. She pulled the blanket up to his chin. ā€œRest, love,ā€ she whispered. Plankton’s hand reached out, his movements slow and deliberate. He found hers, his fingers entwining with hers. ā€œKareb?ā€ he mumbled, his voice a sleepy plea. Karen’s smile was a soft caress. ā€œI’m right here, Plankton. I’m not going anywhere,ā€ she assured him, her voice a gentle reminder of her constant presence. Plankton’s grip tightened slightly, his eye flickering open. ā€œWheh...youw shay...ā€ he slurred, his words a sleepy plea. Karen leaned closer, her smile a gentle promise. ā€œWhat did you say, sweetie?ā€ she asked, her voice a soft whisper in the quiet room. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his grip on her hand growing firm. ā€œYouw shay...stay...stay whiff me?ā€ he murmured, his voice a slurred tapestry of need. Karen’s heart swelled with love. ā€œOf course, Plankton. I’llā€¦ā€ But her words were cut off by his snores, his hand going limp in hers. He was asleep again. Karen sat in the chair beside the bed, her hand still entwined with his. She knew this was just the beginning of a long road ahead, but she was ready. Plankton’s snores grew more rhythmic, his sleep deepening with each passing minute. Karen sat in the chair beside the bed, her thoughts a whirlwind of care and love. Her eyes never left him, a silent sentinel in the quiet room. She knew he’d have questions when he awoke, confusion to navigate, and pain to endure. The ice cream called from the nightstand, a sweet temptation she knew he’d crave. But for now, sleep was his best medicine, his body healing from the invasion of surgery. She watched his chest rise and fall, each breath a testament to his strength. The hours ticked by, the sun dipping below the horizon and leaving a soft glow in the room. Plankton’s snores grew quieter, his sleep more peaceful as his body slowly metabolized the lingering anesthesia. Karen’s thoughts wandered to the days ahead, planning his meals, his pain relief, and the moments of joy she’d weave into his recovery. The room grew darker, the streetlights outside casting a soft glow through the curtains. Karen’s eyes grew heavy with fatigue, but she fought it off, knowing Plankton would need her when he awoke. Her thoughts drifted to their first date, the way his laugh lit up the room, the way his hand felt in hers. A sudden movement caught her eye, and she turned to see Plankton’s eye flutter open, his gaze unfocused and lost. ā€œKaren?ā€ he croaked, his voice a dry whisper. Her smile was a gentle welcome back. ā€œHey there, sleepy. How are you feeling?ā€ she asked, her voice a soft caress. Plankton’s mouth moved, his speech still slurred. ā€œMoth...ā€ he murmured, his tongue thick. Karen’s voice was a soft symphony of comfort. ā€œYou’re okay, Plankton. You’re home and safe. You just had surgery. Do you remember?ā€ she prompted, her hand squeezing his gently. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his thoughts slowly coming into focus. ā€œSur...surgery?ā€ he mumbled, the numbness in his mouth distorting his words. Karen nodded, her smile a warm embrace. ā€œYes, sweetie. Wisdom teeth surgery. It’s all over now, and you’re going to be okay,ā€ she said, her voice a gentle reminder of the reality that had been obscured by the fog of anesthesia. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his mind slowly piecing together the fragments of the day. ā€œMoth...huh?ā€ he murmured, his hand moving to his swollen cheek. Karen’s voice was a soft lullaby. ā€œIt’s alright, love. You had your wisdom teeth out. You’re all safe and sound,ā€ she said, her hand covering his own, guiding it back to the bedside. Plankton’s gaze searched his surroundings. ā€œThish... thish wish...ā€ he mumbled. ā€œIce cream?ā€ she guessed, her voice a whisper. Plankton’s nod was a tiny celebration of victory. ā€œYesh...ish cweam...now?ā€ he asked, his eye hopeful. Karen chuckled, her smile a warm invitation. ā€œOf course, sweetie. Let’s get you set up,ā€ she said, her voice a gentle guidance as she reached for the ice cream.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS xi (By NeuroFabulous) Karen watched, her hand tightly gripping his, her breath shallow, as the surgeon worked with a precision that could only come from years of practice. Plankton remained still under the anesthesia, his antennae completely at ease. Rachel, the hygienist, hovered nearby, her eyes always on Plankton, ready to assist if needed. The surgery felt like eternity, but it was over sooner than she had feared. Plankton's antennae remained still, his breathing deep and even. Dr. McSquinty finished the last stitch, his tentacles moving with a sureness that was almost hypnotic. "We're all done," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. Dr. McSquinty's tentacles moved quickly and deftly, his focus on the task at hand. Karen watched as the surgeon's tentacles gently placed the gauze into Plankton's mouth. The room was silent except for the steady beep of the heart rate monitor and the slight snores from Plankton's relaxed form. Rachel, the hygienist, checked the gauze's placement, her eyes meeting Karen's. She nodded, her expression serene. Karen takes a picture and sends it to Sandy. "He's doing well," Rachel whispered, her eyes on the monitor. "His vitals are all normal." Karen nods, her throat tight. "Thank you," she murmurs. Plankton's antennae lay still, his chest rising and falling evenly. The anesthesia had worked its magic, his mind now free from the storm of sensory input that had once threatened to consume him. Karen watched as Dr. McSquinty removes the Iv, but Plankton was oblivious, his sleep deep and peaceful. The anesthesia had done its job, and Rachel, the hygienist, remained there to wake him. "Plankton, Plankton," Rachel's voice was a lullaby, her hand light on his shoulder. His antennae twitched slightly, his eye flickering open. "You're all done, sweetheart," she murmured. Plankton blinked, his gaze unfocused. The room was dim, his mouth feeling peculiar. "Whath's happen'd?" he mumbled, his voice slurred. Karen's screen swam into view, her smile a beacon in the fog of confusion. "You had your wisdom teeth out," she said gently, her hand still in his. "You're okay, Plankton." Her voice was a balm to his fuzzy mind. His antennae twitched slightly, trying to process the information. Plankton's gaze flickered around the room, the shapes and sounds familiar yet foreign. He felt groggy, his body weighted down by the anesthesia. Rachel smiles. "You'll be tired and a little numb for today Mr. Plankton, but you can nap once Karen takes you home!" Karen's eyes searched his, their depths filled with love and concern. "How do you feel?" she asked, her voice low and gentle. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his gaze unfocused. "Tiwed," he murmured, his voice slurred by the aftereffects of the anesthesia. "But... it's done?" Karen nodded, her smile gentle. "Yes, it's done," she said, her voice a soothing lilt. "You're so brave." Plankton's antennae quivered slightly as he tried to sit up, his body protesting the sudden movement. Karen's hand was a steady anchor, helping to ground him in reality. The world spun for a moment, but soon the fog began to clear. "Easy," she murmured, her voice a lifeline in the haze. "Take your time, Plankton." Her eyes searched his, looking for signs of distress. His antennae drooped slightly, his gaze drifting to the ceiling above. The lights were dimmer now, the sounds of the office muffled. With Rachel's help, they managed to get Plankton to his feet, his legs wobbly. Karen wrapped an arm around his waist, supporting him as they made their way out. "We'll take it slow," she murmured, her voice gentle. His antennas twitched in sleepy agreement, his eye half-lidded. The world felt thick and slow, each step an effort. The pain in his mouth was distant, muffled by the fog of anesthesia. Plankton leaned into Karen, his antennae drooping with grogginess. The gentle pressure of her arm around his waist was the only thing keeping him upright. They moved through the office, his sluggish steps echoing in the silence. Rachel held the door open for them, her smile warm. "Take care of him, he'll be sleepy," she said, her voice soft. Karen nodded, her gaze never leaving Plankton's face. The cool air outside was a sharp contrast to the sterile environment of the dental office. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly as he took in the world around him, his senses still dulled by the lingering anesthesia. Karen's arm remained steadfast around his waist, guiding him through the parking lot. The sound of gravel crunching underfoot was oddly soothing, his mind still fuzzy from the remaining effects of the surgery. The car was a familiar sanctuary, and Plankton collapsed into the passenger seat with a sigh, his antennae drooping. Karen buckled him in with gentle care, her eyes searching his for any signs of pain or discomfort. "Alright, love," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "We're going to get you home, and you can sleep it off." Her hand rested on his shoulder, her eyes on his sleepy gaze. But Plankton's eye kept drooping, his antennae quivering with the effort to stay conscious. "Karen," he slurred, his voice barely audible. "I'm... I'm tiwed." "I know, sweetie," she said, her voice soothing. "You just had surgery. You need to rest. Now let's get home!" But Plankton's body had other ideas. His eyelid fluttered closed, his antennae barely twitching. Karen chuckled softly, her heart swelling with affection. "You can sleep in the car," she assured him. "But try to stay awake for a little while longer." Plankton's antennae shot up with a valiant effort to comply, his eye opening wide for a moment. But the warmth of the car and the gentle hum of the engine were too much for him to resist. Within seconds, his head was lolling to the side, his antennae drooping in defeat. "Plankton," Karen whispered, her voice a gentle prod. His antennae twitched, his eye fluttering open. "Stay with me, okay?" Her smile was tired but filled with love. He nodded, his antennae drooping again. "M'trying," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. Karen chuckled softly, starting the car. The engine's hum was lulling, the vibrations soothing to his overwhelmed senses. As the car pulled out of the parking lot, Plankton's antennae twitched, trying to keep alert. But the warmth of the car and the gentle sway of the seat were too much. His eye closed again, his head lolling back against the headrest. Karen's voice was a steady companion, her words a gentle reminder of reality. "Stay with me, Plankton," she said, her tone filled with love. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye sliding open with difficulty. "M'trying," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. The car's gentle rocking lulled him back into slumber, his antennae drooping against the headrest. Karen's voice was a soft melody, her words a gentle nudge to stay conscious. "Wake up, Plankton," she whispered. "We're going home, and you can sleep there." With each word, his antennae wobbled in protest, his eye fighting to stay open. "Mm," he mumbled, his voice a sleepy whisper. "Home." He was so tired, his body begging for rest. Karen's voice was a gentle reminder of the world outside his sleep-filled haze. "We're almost there, Plankton," she soothed, her eyes never leaving the road. "Just stay with me a little longer." But the siren call of sleep was too strong. His antennae twitched one last time before going still, his breathing evening out as he gave in to the warm embrace of unconsciousness. Karen watched him with a mix of concern and affection, his peaceful expression a stark contrast to the fear from before. "Looks like you've had enough," she whispered to herself, a hint of a smile playing on her screen. She drove with care, his head leaning against the window, the soft snores echoing in the quiet car. The scenery outside the window was a blur, the world moving too fast for his sleep-laden brain to process. Each bump in the road jolted him slightly, his antennae twitching in protest. "Wake up, Plankton," Karen said, keeping her voice low and calm. He stirred, his antennae perking up slightly. "We're almost there." But the lure of sleep was powerful, pulling him back into its embrace. His antennae drooped, his breaths growing even deeper. "Mmph," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the gauze still in his mouth. "Just a few more minutes, Plankton," Karen coaxed, her voice soft. The car's gentle motion was hypnotic, each turn and bump in the road a siren's song to his weary mind. "You can sleep when we get home." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye fluttering open. He nodded slightly, his head lolling to the side. "M'trying," he murmured, his voice barely audible. The anesthesia still had a firm grip on his consciousness, his body craving the oblivion of sleep. Karen's hand remained steady on his shoulder, her voice a gentle coaxing. "Look, Plankton," she said, her tone soft. "We're almost home. Stay with me." The world outside was a blur of colors and shapes, each passing tree and building just another obstacle in his battle against the dragging weight of sleep. Plankton's antennae quivered slightly, his eye trying to focus. "Mmhmm," he mumbled, his voice thick with grogginess. Karen's gentle voice was his tether to reality, her soothing words a lullaby guiding him through the hazy fog of anesthesia. "You're doing so well, Plankton," she murmured, her grip on his shoulder firm yet comforting. "Almost there, buddy." Plankton's antennae twitched in response, his eye opening briefly to meet hers. He nodded, the effort to stay awake etched on his face. The world outside the car was a blur of greens and blues, the sun casting a warm glow over everything. His body felt heavy, each breath a struggle against the weight of his eyelid. "Look, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a whisper in the quiet car. "We're home."
TOOTH AFTERNOON iii Karen chuckled. Despite his current state, she was just happy he was out of pain. She sat back in her chair, watching him sleep and planning their quiet afternoon at home. Ice cream, his favorite blanket, and a marathon of their favorite show. The doctor returned, his expression one of understanding. ā€œHe’ll be out of it for a little while longer. But we can discharge him now if you’re ready to take him home,ā€ he said, his voice a calm assurance. Karen nodded, her smile tired but still present. ā€œThank you, doctor. I think we’re ready,ā€ she replied, her voice a soft acknowledgment of the journey that had only just begun. The doctor gave her a nod of understanding, his gaze softening. ā€œAlright, let’s get you both home. I’ll go grab the gauze for his mouth,ā€ he said, turning to leave the room. Karen nodded, her eyes still on Plankton’s sleeping form. She felt a mix of relief and exhaustion wash over her. The surgery was over, but the real challenge was just beginning: navigating Plankton’s recovery. The doctor returned with a small bag of supplies and instructions. ā€œMake sure he doesn’t chew on anything too hard, and keep the gauze in to soak up the bleeding. He’ll be on a soft diet for a few days. Lots of rest, and no strenuous activities, okay?ā€ he said, his voice kind and professional. ā€œNow let’s get some gauze in.ā€ Karen watched as the doctor carefully placed the gauze in Plankton’s mouth. Would he wake up? Would he panic? But Plankton remained asleep, his breathing steady. The nurse offered a gentle pat on the shoulder. ā€œYou’re a trooper, Mr. Plankton,ā€ she said, her voice a soft whisper of encouragement. The doctor turned to Karen, his expression a blend of pride and fatigue. ā€œYou’ve both done well today. He’s ready to go home, but make sure to follow the instructions I gave you. No chewing, no crunchy foods, and keep that gauze in place. Call us if you have any concerns, okay?ā€ Karen nodded, her smile grateful. ā€œThank you, doctor. We really appreciate it,ā€ she said, her voice a soft echo of the beeps that surrounded them. With a gentle touch, Karen shook Plankton’s shoulder. ā€œWake up, Plankton. Time to go home,ā€ she whispered, her voice a soothing lullaby to rouse him from his anesthesia-induced slumber. Plankton’s eye cracked open, his gaze unfocused. ā€œWhathapennin’?ā€ he mumbled, his tongue a thick obstacle in his mouth. Karen’s smile was a warm reassurance. ā€œIt’s time to go home, sweetie. The surgery’s all over,ā€ she whispered, her voice like a gentle breeze. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his thoughts a tangled mess. ā€œHome?ā€ he murmured, his mouth moving awkwardly around the gauze. Karen nodded, her smile a beacon in the sterile room. ā€œYes, Plankton. We’re going home now. The doctor says you can go if you’re feeling okay,ā€ she said, her voice a gentle reminder of the world waiting outside. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his thoughts slowly coming into focus. ā€œHome?ā€ he repeated, his voice still thick with sleep. Karen nodded, her smile a warm embrace. ā€œYes, we’re going home. The surgery is done, and the doctor says you’re okay to leave. Can you stand up for me?ā€ she asked, her tone a gentle coax. Plankton’s body moved with the sluggishness of a marionette. He pushed himself up, his legs wobbly like gelatin. Karen helped him to his feet, her arm a sturdy pillar under his. The room spun, and his eye searched for a focal point. ā€œWhehā€¦ā€ he murmured, his mind a foggy mess. Karen’s grip was firm, her voice steady. ā€œTake it slow, Plankton. You’re ok, just a bit wobbly. We’re going home now,ā€ she said, guiding him towards the door. Plankton’s steps were shaky, his legs unsure beneath him. The world outside the recovery room was a blur of faces and colors, but Karen’s was the only one that made sense. She led him to the car, her arm a warm security around his waist. The cool air hit him like a wave, his skin prickling as his mind swam with the sudden shift from the clinical calm of the dentist’s office to the bustling chaos of the parking lot. ā€œWalk with me, love,ā€ Karen said, her voice a gentle guide in the storm of his disorientation. Plankton’s feet shuffled forward, his movements mechanical as Karen led him to their car. The brightness of the afternoon sun was a stark contrast to the sterile fluorescence of the recovery room, making him squint. He felt like a newborn fawn, his legs wobbly and unsteady. With Karen’s guidance, Plankton managed to get into the passenger seat, his body sinking into the softness with a sigh of relief. The car door clicked shut, sealing them into a cocoon of quiet comfort. Karen climbed behind the wheel, her movements efficient and familiar as she adjusted the mirrors and started the engine. The world outside their bubble grew fuzzier as they drove away from the dental clinic, the hum of the tires lulling Plankton into a semi-lucid state. He leaned his head against the cool window, watching the trees and buildings blur past. ā€œWheh...awe we...going?ā€ he slurred, his voice a sleepy echo. Karen’s smile was a warm comfort. ā€œHome, Plankton. We’re going home so you can rest and heal. You’ve had a big day, haven’t you?ā€ she said, her voice a gentle reminder of the journey behind them. Plankton’s nod was a sleepy affirmation. ā€œYeah...big...day,ā€ he mumbled, his eye drooping closed again, his head lolled to the side. ā€œSo, sweetie, what’s the first thing you want to do when we get home?ā€ she asked, her voice a gentle prod to keep him engaged. Plankton’s mouth moved slowly, his thoughts a thick sludge. ā€œIsh...cweam?ā€ Karen’s laugh was a soft symphony. ā€œIce cream, yes. As soon as we get home and you’re comfortable, you can have all the ice cream you want. I’ve got your favorite flavor waiting for you in the freezer,ā€ she said, her voice a sweet promise. Plankton’s eye lit up with the mention of ice cream, a tiny spark of excitement in the sea of confusion. ā€œFishy...flaver?ā€ he mumbled, his mouth still numb. Karen chuckled, her voice warm and loving. ā€œChocolate, Plankton. Your favorite chocolate chip cookie dough. I know you’ll love it,ā€ she assured him. She was ready to play nurse, chef, and entertainer all rolled into one. Plankton’s head lolled to the side, the gauze in his mouth a stark white against his pale cheek. His eye flits open and closed, the world a mosaic of colors and shapes as they drove.
š–³š–® š–«š–¤š– š–±š–­ part 7 (š–»š—’ š–­š–¾š—Žš—‹š—ˆš–„š–ŗš–»š—Žš—…š—ˆš—Žš—Œ) Plankton leaned on to his wife, the frog toy now a silent witness to his confusion. "Karen, I thoink I thaw... a pwinthip... in the denthit," he slurred, his tongue thick from the anesthesia. Karen couldn't help but laugh, the tension from the morning dissipating. "It's okay, honey," she said, her voice gentle. "You're just a bit loopy. We're going home soon." Chip watched, his fear turning into amusement. Plankton looked at Chip, his antennae still. "Chip... thon... I wove you," he managed to get out, the words slurred. Chip's cheeks grew red, trying not to laugh. "Dad, I know. You're just tired, and I love you to—" But Plankton wasn't done. "Thoo... toothfth... theyth tooh theem," he asks. Karen nods, her smile tender. "Yes, they took out your wisdom te-" "Teeefth," Plankton interjects, his tongue feeling too large for his mouth. "Wi’out my teeefth, how wiww I... I... eath?" His concern was genuine, his mind still fuzzy with anesthesia. Karen giggles. "Don't worry, you'll eat just fine," she soothes, gently stroking his back. "You'll have soft foods for a bit, then back to your normal diet. It'll be a shot in the arm!" Plankton's eye widens and wells up with tears. "Shoth?" he repeats, his voice rising. Karen quickly reassures him. "No, no, Plankton, I meant it'll be a piece of cake! No shots, just so—" But Plankton's antennae were already quivering with fear, his body tense. He took the phrase "shot in the arm" literally. Karen's heart sank. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, cutting off her laugh. "It's an expression, Plankton. No shots, I pro-" But it was too late. A whine began to build high-pitched. Chip's laughter died. Karen squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, sweetie. It's just an expression. I shouldn't have used it. No shots, I promise," she whispered, her voice soothing. Plankton's antennae quivered, his single eye filling with tears. "Youw thaid, y-you tolb me!" Karen's expression softened, seeing his distress. "Plankton, it's okay. It's just something we say, like 'easy as pie.' But I shouldn't have used it if it scared you." She took the frog from his hand, setting it aside, and wrapped her arms around him. "You're safe babe. No one's going to hurt you." Chip watched his parents, his heart aching. "Dad, please, don't cry! It's okay, Dad," he whispered. "We're going to go home." Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his antennae drooping. "Mmph... wight," he mumbled. "Nobody's gonna... shot me." His mouth was still numb, his speech still slurred. "That's right," Karen said, kissing his forehead. "Let's go home!" Karen managed to get her husband to his feet as she helped him out of the dental chair. She held Plankton upright as he wobbled slightly, his legs still weak from anesthesia. "Careful," she said, her voice soothing. "Let's get going." Plankton chuckles as Karen helped him stand up, his legs wobbly. "Wook ath me, I'm wike babywun," he says, his words still thick. Karen laughs softly, her heart swelling with love as Chip follows them out. "You're doing great," she reassures him, her arm around his waist. "Just lean on me, okay?" They made their way to the car, Chip sitting in the back by his dad as Karen got into the driver's seat. She then started the engine and gave her husband a side glance. "You okay?" she asked, amused. Plankton nodded, his speech still slurred. "Ish, jumst wike I goth my wips dipwed," he said. Chip couldn't help but snicker as Plankton's head lolled to the side, Karen's eyes darted to the rearview mirror, checking on him. "You okay back there, sweetie?" she asked. Plankton's eye opened slightly, his antennae twitching. "Mm hmph," he mumbled, his voice still slurred. Chip knew his dad would be okay. Plankton's head lolled against the car window, the frog toy still in his hand. "Wook, Chip," he mumbled, pointing out the window. "Twee... bweautiful day, ishn't ith?" Chip nodded, his eyes on his father's reflection in the window. He was still a bit loopy, his words coming out of his still-numb mouth as a series of lisps. Karen glanced back, a small smile playing on her lips. "We're gonna have to keep an eye on him today, Chip," she said, her voice gentle. "I will," Chip promised, his gaze never leaving his dad. For Plankton was still slurring, but he seemed content. "Dath... dath's... dath's..." Chip couldn't help but chuckle. "Your mouth's just numb." He smiled. "So, tell me what you recall during the dentist appointment, Dad?" Plankton's antennae twitched. "Well, I... I... I met a nice nurse wif a fwog." He managed, holding up the plush toy. "And den... den... I goth... I rember... a mask... and den... den I woke up to thee youw and awso thaw youw mom my wife Karen. I thaw Karen acting wike she was a thilly widdle gull," he slurred with a hint of a lopsided smile. Karen rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "So you're saying I'm a silly little girl," she asked. Plankton nodded, his eye still half-closed. "Yeth," he said, his smile growing wider. "Youw wuz.. I finks Chip thaid 'bweautiful'." Karen's eyes met Chip's in the mirror, and they both laughed. Plankton's fighting off the urge to sleep now. "Twee... trees... theem loks wobble," he says as his eye struggles to stay open. Karen chuckles from the front seat. "Are you getting sleepy back there, Plankton?" "No... just a wobbit," Plankton slurs, his voice faint. Chip looks at his dad. "You okay?" Plankton nods slightly. "I'm stiw awake. Theemth... theemth... theemth... thleepy." Karen glances in the mirror. "We're almost home," she soothes. "Yo-" But she's cut off by a sudden snore from Plankton. Chip giggles. "Looks like someone's already conked out.. Dad, can you wake up?" Plankton's antennae twitch in his sleep, his mouth moving. "Mmf... wha?" Karen smiles at Chip. "Guess the anesthesia's still doing its thing." They pull into the driveway, the house looming comfortingly. "Wakey wakey," Karen sings, shaking Plankton gently. He blinks, his eye struggling to focus. Plankton's mouth opens, but only a slurred "Mmph" escapes. "I thweep?" Karen laughs gently as she helps him into the house. "You're okay, just a bit tired." Plankton stumbles slightly, his body still heavy from the anesthesia. Inside, they settle him on his bed. "Dad," Chip starts, but Plankton's already snoring lightly, the frog toy still clutched in his hand. Karen smiles tiredly. "Let's get him comfortable." Karen managed to remove his gauze. "Wook, Chip," Plankton mumbles, his voice slurred and sleepy. "Wook ath dis widdle fwoggy. It'th my new fwiend." Chip laughs softly as his mom helps Plankton get comfortable on the bed. "You're going to need some rest, Dad," he says. Plankton nods. "Mmph, yesh. Wemember, Chip," he says. "Remember what, Dad?" Chip asks, smiling. "Wemember the fwiend, the fwoggy," Plankton responds. With a gentle laugh, Karen takes the frog toy and places it beside Plankton. "Yes, you're right," she says, her eyes shining. "Your new friend will watch over you." Plankton nods, his eyelid drooping. "Mmh," he says, his hand reaching for the toy again. His mouth, still numb, moves slightly as he chews on his tongue. Karen watches him. "No no, Plankton," she whispers. "Don't chew on your mouth, you'll hurt it more." Chip's eyes widen in realization. "Dad, stop," he says gently. "You're still numb." Plankton looks at him. "Wha?" Karen sighs, her voice still kind. "You're chewing on your mouth, honey," she explains. "And you know you're sensitive. Tomorrow the numbness will be gone, and you'll be even more sore if you..." But Plankton's already drooling over the toy. "Plankton," Karen says firmly. "You're not supposed to chew. The gauze is gone." Plankton's antennae then twitch in confusion, eye barely open. Drool pooled at the corner of his mouth. Chip stepped forward, his voice gentle. "Dad, you can't chew on that. It'll make your mouth worse." He took the frog from Plankton's hand. Plankton's single eye snapped open, his gaze focusing on Chip, in a mix of confusion and sadness. "Gimme my fwoggy..." Chip held up the frog toy. "Dad, you can't have it right now. You can get it back if you stop randomly chewing." But Plankton's still trying to reach for the frog. "NO," Chip says, which makes Plankton sit back down on the bed. Plankton's antennae drooped as he began to cry. Not loud sobs, but quiet, sad tears that trickled down his face. "I... I wan' m-my, my fwoggy," he says, his voice thick with pain. Karen turns to Chip. "Give him the toy," she whispers. "He wants it for comfort. The frog has nothing to do with his chewing. And don't raise your voice like that. He's still autistic, and still sensitive." Chip nods, feeling guilty. "Sorry, Dad," he says, handing the toy back to his father. Plankton's sniffles die down as he holds the frog tightly, his antennae still drooping. "I'm sorry, Dad," Chip says again. Karen wipes Plankton's face with her thumb, removing the drool and tears. "It's okay," she soothes. Chip watches his dad, his heart aching. He hadn't realized how much his father's autism affected his daily life. Plankton's stims, his need for calm, the way he sometimes struggled with the unexpected—it all made sense now. And the frog, a simple toy to anyone else, had become a comfort for his dad in this moment of vulnerability. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye half-closed. "Mmh," he mumbles, his hand finding the frog again as his mouth moves in a slight chew. Chip notices, his heart squeezing. "Dad," he says, his voice gentle. "You're doing it again. You can't chew on your mouth." Plankton looks at him, his antennae still. "I'm noth chewing," he mumbles. But his mouth is moving. Karen sighs, her hand on his shoulder. "Plankton, sweetie, you are," she whispers. "You're just not aware of it."
ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ įµ’į¶  įµˆįµ‰įµƒįµ—Ź° ;. ā” C o n t i n u e ? ┓. r/TwoSentenceHorror Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 days ago Muted-Duck4203 As I stood on top of the cliff I wondered what caused so many people to jump here. Until I felt icy cold hands on my back.
Añadido 12.08.2011 a las 13:38 por guillecarlos | Edward Mordrake era un inglés que tenía un rostro extra en la nuca. De acuerdo a las historias que se cuentan de él, el rostro no podía hablar ni comer, pero podía reír y llorar. Edward suplicó a los médicos que le extrajeran este gemelo demoniaco porque, supuestamente, le susurraba cosas horribles en la noche, pero ningún médico se atrevió a intentarlo. Edward cometió suicidio a la edad de 23 años.
r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 days ago chacde3 Halfway into our trip, the GPS arrival time switched from ā€œMidnightā€ to ā€œNever.ā€ I was so distracted trying to figure out what it meant, I did not notice the truck veering into my lane.
į‘«įµ˜įµƒĖ”ā±įµ—Źø ᵀⁱᵐᵉ pt. 1 ā½į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰į“®įµ’įµ‡ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ "ᓵ Ź·įµƒāæįµ— ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵗʰ įµ’į¶  Źøįµ’įµ˜ įµ—įµ’ įµ‡įµ’āæįµˆ ᵃˢ ᵉᵐᵖ˔ᵒʸᵉᵉˢ⸓ ᵃⁿᵈ Źøįµ’įµ˜ ᶜᵃⁿ įµ—įµƒįµįµ‰ ᵃ į¶ Ź³ā±įµ‰āæįµˆ ʷⁱᵗʰ Źøįµ’įµ˜ ⁱᶠ Źøįµ’įµ˜ Ė”ā±įµįµ‰!" ᓹʳ‧ į“·Ź³įµƒįµ‡Ė¢ įµ—įµ’Ė”įµˆ į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ ᵃⁿᵈ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰ ᵇᵒᵇ‧ "ᓵ'˔˔ įµ—įµƒįµįµ‰ į“¾įµƒįµ—Ź³ā±į¶œįµ! ᵂʰᵒ'˔˔ Źøįµ’įµ˜ įµ—įµƒįµįµ‰?" "ᓵᵗ'˔˔ ᵇᵉ ᵃ Ė¢įµ˜Ź³įµ–Ź³ā±Ė¢įµ‰ā€§ā€§ā€§" į”†įµƒā±įµˆ į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆā€§ "ᵀʰᵉ įµ‡įµ˜Ė¢ Ė”įµ‰įµƒįµ›įµ‰Ė¢ įµƒį¶ įµ—įµ‰Ź³ Ź·įµ’Ź³įµ!" ᓹʳ‧ į“·Ź³įµƒįµ‡Ė¢ Ź³įµ‰įµā±āæįµˆįµ‰įµˆ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ "ᓵ'˔˔ įµįµ’ įµįµ‰įµ— ᵐʸ į¶ Ź³ā±įµ‰āæįµˆā€§ā€§ā€§" į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ įµ—įµ’Ė”įµˆā€§ 'ᵂʰᵒ ᵃᵐ ᓵ įµ—įµ’ įµ–ā±į¶œįµ? į”†įµƒāæįµˆŹø ᵒⁿ˔ʸ įµ‰āæį¶œįµ’įµ˜Ź³įµƒįµįµ‰Ė¢ ᵗʰᵉ įµƒāæāæįµ’Źøā±āæįµ įµ‡įµ‰Ź°įµƒįµ›ā±įµ’įµ˜Ź³ įµ’į¶  į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ā€§' į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ Ė”įµ’įµ’įµįµ‰įµˆ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵃʷ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ įµ‡įµ˜į¶œįµįµ‰įµ—ā€§ "ᵂʰᵒ ᵉ˔ˢᵉ‧‧‧" į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ ʷᵉⁿᵗ įµ—įµ’ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ'ˢ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ Ź·įµ’Ź³įµ ˢʰⁱᶠᵗ'Ė¢ įµ‰āæįµˆįµ‰įµˆāø“ ᵗʰᵉ įµ‡įµ˜Ė¢ į¶œįµƒįµįµ‰ ᵇʸ‧ ᓮᵒᵗʰ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ ᵃⁿᵈ į“¾įµƒįµ—Ź³ā±į¶œįµ ʷᵉʳᵉ įµ—įµ’įµįµ‰įµ—Ź°įµ‰Ź³ įµ‰Ė£į¶œā±įµ—įµ‰įµˆĖ”Źøā€§ į“¼āæį¶œįµ‰ ᓹʳ‧ į“·Ź³įµƒįµ‡Ė¢ ˔ᵉᶠᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸓ į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ įµƒŹ³Ź³ā±įµ›įµ‰įµˆ ʷⁱᵗʰ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæā€§ "į”†įµ˜Ź³įµ–Ź³ā±Ė¢įµ‰!" ᵂʰⁱ˔ˢᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ įµ‡įµ˜Ė¢āø“ į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ ᵃⁿᵈ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ Ė¢įµƒįµ— ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ įµ‡įµ‰āæį¶œŹ° Ė¢įµ‰įµƒįµ— įµƒįµˆŹ²įµƒį¶œįµ‰āæįµ— įµ—įµ’ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ ᵃⁿᵈ į“¾įµƒįµ—Ź³ā±į¶œįµā€§ "ᓬʳᵉ ʷᵉ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ʸᵉᵗ?" "ᓺᵒ!" į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ Ź³įµ‰įµ–Ė”ā±įµ‰įµˆā€§ į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ'Ė¢ į¶ įµƒĖ”Ė”įµ‰āæ įµƒĖ¢Ė”įµ‰įµ‰įµ– ᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ įµįµ’įµ˜įµ—Ź°įµ‰įµˆāø“ įµˆįµ’į¶»ā±āæįµ ᵒᶠᶠ‧ "į“¹įµ˜Ė¢įµ— ᵇᵉ įµ˜Ė¢įµ‰įµˆ įµ—įµ’ 'ᵉᵐ‧‧‧" į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵐᵒˢᵗ˔ʸ įµ—įµ’ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉ˔ᶠ‧ į“¾įµƒįµ—Ź³ā±į¶œįµ'Ė¢ Ė”įµƒįµ˜įµŹ°ā±āæįµ ʷⁱᵗʰ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ā€§ "ᓓᵃ?" į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ Ė¢āæįµƒįµ–įµ–įµ‰įµˆ įµƒŹ·įµƒįµįµ‰ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ įµƒŹ³Ź³ā±įµ›įµ‰įµˆ įµ—įµ’ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ įµ—įµ’ Ė¢įµ—įµƒŹøā€§ ᵀʰᵉʸ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ "ᓵ įµ—įµ‰Ė£įµ—įµ‰įµˆ ᓹʳ‧ į“·Ź³įµƒįµ‡Ė¢ įµ—įµ’ ᵗᵉ˔˔ ʰⁱᵐ ʷᵉ'ᵛᵉ įµƒŹ³Ź³ā±įµ›įµ‰įµˆā€§" į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ įµ—įµ’Ė”įµˆā€§ "ᓰⁱᵈ Źøįµ’įµ˜ įµ‡Ź³ā±āæįµ ᵃⁿʸ Ė¢āæįµƒį¶œįµĖ¢?" "ᓼᶠ į¶œįµ’įµ˜Ź³Ė¢įµ‰āø“ į“¾įµƒįµ—Ź³ā±į¶œįµ; ᓵ įµ‡Ź³įµ’įµ˜įµŹ°įµ— ˢᵒᵐᵉ įµ–įµƒįµ—įµ—ā±įµ‰Ė¢!" į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ Ź²įµ˜įµįµ–įµ‰įµˆ įµ˜įµ– ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ Ź°įµ‰įµƒŹ³įµˆ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡'Ė¢ įµƒāæĖ¢Ź·įµ‰Ź³ā€§ "ᓵ'ᵛᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵃᵈ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ‧‧‧" į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ įµ—Ź³ā±įµ‰įµˆ ⁿᵒᵗ įµ—įµ’ Ė¢įµƒĖ”ā±įµ›įµƒįµ—įµ‰ā€§ "ᵂᵉ'˔˔ Ź·įµƒįµ—į¶œŹ° Źøįµ’įµ˜ įµ‰įµƒįµ— ⁱᵗ; ⁿᵒ ᶠᵘⁿⁿʸ įµ‡įµ˜Ė¢ā±āæįµ‰Ė¢Ė¢!" "ᓵ įµˆįµ’āæ'įµ— įµāæįµ’Ź· ʰᵒʷ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵐᵒʳᵉ įµ’į¶  Źøįµ’įµ˜Ź³ Ė¢āæįµ’Ź³ā±āæįµ ᓵ ᶜᵃⁿ įµ—įµƒįµįµ‰āø“ ⁿᵒ įµ’į¶ į¶ įµ‰āæį¶œįµ‰ā€§ā€§ā€§" į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ įµ—įµ’Ė”įµˆ į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ Ė”įµ’įµ’įµįµ‰įµˆ įµƒįµ— ᵇᵒᵗʰ įµ’į¶  ᵗʰᵉ įµ‡įµ‰įµˆĖ¢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ "ᓵ'˔˔ Ė¢Ź°įµƒŹ³įµ‰; į“¾įµƒįµ—Ź³ā±į¶œįµ'Ė¢ ᵃ Ź°įµ‰įµƒįµ›Źø ˢ˔ᵉᵉᵖᵉʳ⸓ ˢᵒ įµ–įµ‰Ź³Ź°įµƒįµ–Ė¢ į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ ᶜᵃⁿ Ė¢Ź°įµƒŹ³įµ‰ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ!" į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ įµ—įµ’Ė”įµˆ ʰⁱᵐ‧ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ Ź°įµ‰Ė”įµ–įµ‰įµˆ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ Ź³įµ‰įµƒį¶œŹ° ᵗʰᵉ įµ‡įµ‰įµˆā€§ "į“³įµ’įµ’įµˆāæā±įµŹ°įµ—ā€§ā€§ā€§" į”†įµƒā±įµˆ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡āø“ į¶ įµƒĖ”Ė”ā±āæįµ įµƒĖ¢Ė”įµ‰įµ‰įµ–ā€§ "Źøįµ’įµ˜ įµ—įµ’āø“ įµā±įµˆā€§ā€§ā€§" į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ įµ—įµ’Ė”įµˆ Ė¢įµ‰įµ‰ā±āæįµ ʰⁱᵐ ˢ˔ᵉᵉᵖ‧ ᓓᵉ įµįµ’įµ›įµ‰įµˆ į¶œĖ”įµ’Ė¢įµ‰Ź³ įµ—įµ’ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ā€§ į“¾įµƒįµ—Ź³ā±į¶œįµ įµƒŹ·įµ’įµįµ‰ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ įµā±įµˆįµˆĖ”įµ‰ įµ’į¶  ᵗʰᵉ āæā±įµŹ°įµ—ā€§ ᓓᵉ įµāæįµ‰Ź· ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ įµ—Ź°įµƒāæ įµ—įµ’ įµƒŹ·įµƒįµįµ‰ į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆā€§ ᓓᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ įµ—įµ’ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ įµ‡įµ‰įµˆā€§ "ᓓᵉʸ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ā€§ā€§ā€§" į“¾įµƒįµ—Ź³ā±į¶œįµ Ź·įµƒįµįµ‰Ė¢ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "į“¾įµƒįµ—ā€§ā€§ā€§" "ᶜᵃⁿ ᓵ į¶œįµ’įµįµ‰ įµ˜įµ– ʷⁱᵗʰ Źøįµ’įµ˜?" "į”†įµ˜Ź³įµ‰āø“ Ź²įµ˜Ė¢įµ— įµˆįµ’ ⁿᵒᵗ įµˆā±Ė¢įµ—įµ˜Ź³įµ‡ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæā€§ā€§ā€§" į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰ ᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸓ Ė¢įµ‰įµ‰ā±āæįµ ʰᵉ'ᵈ į¶ įµƒĖ”Ė”įµ‰āæ įµƒĖ¢Ė”įµ‰įµ‰įµ– į¶œįµ˜Ź³Ė”įµ‰įµˆ įµ˜įµ– ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᵂʰʸ įµƒŹ³įµ‰ Źøįµ’įµ˜ įµ˜įµ–?" "ᓵ Ź²įµ˜Ė¢įµ— āæįµ‰įµ‰įµˆįµ‰įµˆ įµ—įµ’ Ź°įµ˜įµā€§ā€§ā€§" "į“¾įµƒįµ—Ź³ā±į¶œįµāø“ į¶œįµ’įµįµ‰ į¶œĖ”įµ’Ė¢įµ‰Ź³ā€§ā€§ā€§" į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ įµ˜Ė¢įµ‰įµˆ ʰⁱˢ ᶠʳᵉᵉ ᵃʳᵐ įµ—įµ’ įµ‰įµįµ‡Ź³įµƒį¶œįµ‰ ʰⁱᵐ į”†ā±āæį¶œįµ‰ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ'Ė¢ Ė”įµ‰įµƒāæā±āæįµ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ Ź°įµƒāæįµˆā€§ "į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ ᓵ įµˆįµ’āæ'įµ— įµ—Ź°ā±āæįµ ᓵᵛᵉ įµƒį¶œįµ—įµ˜įµƒĖ”Ė”Źø įµ—įµƒĖ”įµįµ‰įµˆ įµ—įµ’ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ‧‧‧" "į“¾įµƒįµ— įµįµ‰įµ‰įµ– Źøįµ’įµ˜Ź³ įµ›įµ’ā±į¶œįµ‰ įµˆįµ’Ź·āæ! į“®įµ˜įµ— ʸᵉˢ ʰᵉ įµ—įµƒįµįµ‰Ė¢ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ įµ—įµ’ ʷᵃʳᵐ įµ˜įµ– įµ—įµ’ Źøįµ’įµ˜āø“ Ė”ā±įµįµ‰ į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆāø“ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ įµįµ‰įµ—Ė¢ įµ‡įµ’įµ—Ź°įµ‰Ź³įµ‰įµˆ įµ‰įµƒĖ¢ā±Ė”Źøā€§ā€§ā€§" "ᶜᵃⁿ ᓵ įµįµ’ įµ‡įµƒį¶œįµ įµ—įµ’ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ įµ‡įµ‰įµˆ?" "į”†įµ˜Ź³įµ‰āø“ į“¾įµƒįµ—ā€§ā€§ā€§" to be cont. Pt. 2
TRUTH AND NAIL iv His eye flickered open again, his gaze unfocused. "Wha?" he mumbled, his voice slurred. "Home?" Karen nodded, her smile a beacon in the dark. "Almost," she said, her voice like a gentle breeze. Plankton's eyelid fluttered, his mind a foggy haze. "Home...?" he slurred, his voice barely a whisper. "Almost, darling," Karen reassured him, her voice soothing as the car's gentle purr. His eye rolled back, lid heavy with sleep. The nurse had warned her about this, the anesthesia leaving him groggy and disoriented. But the sight of him, drooling and slumped over, was still a bit foreign. "Home, soon," Karen soothed, her voice a whisper in the quiet car. "Just stay awake." But Plankton's eye closed again, his head lolling back. His snores were the only sound in the car, a steady counterpoint to the hum of the engine. "What's your favorite color, Plankton?" she asked, trying to keep his thoughts afloat. His eye blinked slowly, his gaze unfocused. "Buh...blu?" he murmured, his voice a faint echo. Karen's smile grew wider, full of love and amusement. "Good boy," she whispered, patting his hand. "Stay with me." But Plankton's eyelid were heavy, his mind a swirl of confusion and exhaustion. His head fell back again, his snores a rhythmic accompaniment to the hum of the car. "Stay with me, love," Karen coaxed, her voice a soft lullaby in the silence of the night. His chest rose and fell with each snore, his body relaxed. Plankton's head jerked upwards with a snort, his eye wide for a moment before the sleep dragged it shut again. "Home?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. Karen's eyes never left the road ahead, her grip tight on the steering wheel. "Almost, darling," she said, her voice a comforting purr. "Just stay with me a bit longer." But Plankton's body had other plans. With a snort, he slumped over again, his head bouncing on the headrest like a rag doll's. Karen knew he was okay. Just...out of it. "Plankton, stay awake," she urged, her voice a soft caress in the darkness. But his snores grew louder, his breathing deep and even. "Wha...?" Plankton's head jerked up, his eye widening in surprise. "Where am I?" Karen glanced in the rearview mirror, her smile tight. "You're in the car, sweetie. We're almost home." Her voice was a soft reminder of reality, but his mind was still swimming in a sea of anesthesia. "Home?" Plankton slurred, his voice a faint echo. His head lolled to the side, his eye trying to focus on the passing streetlights. "Almost," Karen said, her voice a soft whisper. "Just stay with me." But Plankton's eye closed again, his snores filling the car. Karen sighed, her grip tightening on the steering wheel. This was going to be a long night..
"He took the little girl with the promise of sweets. They found the body a few days later ripped to shreds, but they never did find his head."
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"Come on, Sheldon," Krabs said. "You get that patty back here, I'm warning ye." Sheldon Plankton had tried countless times to steal the recipe, but Mr. Krabs had always been a step ahead. Plankton whined. "I've got a restaurant to run too, you know." Krabs ignored the protest, his beady eyes never leaving the control panel of his latest contraption. Plankton felt a prick and looked to see a small dart. "Whoah.." He managed to squeak before the world started to spin around him. His legs felt like gelatin, and he could see the edges of his vision blurring as the tranquilizer began to take effect. Krabs cackled with satisfaction as he watched Plankton frame wobble. "That, me hearty, was yer ticket to a little... unscheduled nap. Now, don't go anywhere, I've got business to attend to." The tranquilizer spread through Plankton's body, turning his muscles to jelly. His eye grew heavier, his thoughts slowing to a crawl. As the darkness claimed him, he was vaguely aware of the cold steel surrounding him, the echoes of his own voice bouncing around the chamber. "What are you planning, Krabs?" he slurred, the words barely audible through his fading consciousness. He couldn't let Krabs win again. He got the dart off himself, but not before it'd take effect. He noticed a lever that looked out of place, and with a hopeful thought, he threw himself at it. His tiny form hit the lever with surprising force, and he heard the sound of gears grinding to life. The walls of the chamber began to vibrate, and a faint light grew in the distance. Plankton stumbled towards the light. It grew brighter, revealing a small hatch, turning his thoughts into a thick fog. He had to focus on the light, on the escape that lay before him. With a herculean effort, he managed to pull himself to the hatch. The metal was cold and slick with condensation. He fumbled with the lock, his tiny hands slipping off repeatedly. Each failed attempt was met with a groan of frustration that seemed to echo through the chamber. But Plankton's resolve was unyielding. He had to get out. He had to show Krabs that he wasn't going down without a fight. As the tranquilizer continued to take hold, Plankton's movements grew more erratic, his coordination slipping away like grains of sand through his fingers. His vision narrowed to a pinprick, the light from the hatch the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. His breaths grew shallower, his heartbeat a distant drum in his chest. He could feel the darkness closing in, the sedative's embrace threatening to pull him under. He tried to focus on the hatch, his eye crossing with the effort. The lever was his lifeline, and he had to get it open. But his hands, once so nimble, now felt like overstuffed sausages attached to his wrists. He slapped at the metal, his fingertips barely grazing the edge. Each failure brought with it a wave of drowsiness that threatened to swamp him. "Must... stay... awake," he mumbled, his voice barely more than a whisper. The light from the hatch grew more enticing, beckoning him to give in to the warm embrace of sleep. But Plankton had faced worse than a simple nap before. He'd been flattened, shrunk, and even temporarily turned into a Krabby Patty. This was just another hurdle in the never-ending saga of his life. The world around him swayed. His thoughts were as elusive. He knew he was close to losing consciousness, and with it, any hope of victory. With a tremendous effort, he focused his gaze on the hatch, willing his arms to move. His body felt like it was made of cooked spaghetti, but he had to keep fighting. "Open... open...," he murmured, his voice a hoarse whisper. His hand reached for the lever, slipping off several times before finally catching it. The metal was cold and slippery against his skin, but he held on, his determination stronger than the tranquilizer's grip. He pushed with all his might, his eye sliding shut against his will. The hatch gave a little, and a burst of cool, fresh water spurted out. The sensation brought a moment of clarity, and Plankton realized that he had to act fast before he lost the battle against his heavy eyelid. He gritted his teeth and pushed with everything he had, the lethargy in his limbs slowly dissipating. The hatch groaned in protest before swinging open with a metallic screech. The chamber floor tilted and spun beneath him, and he barely registered the rush of water that flooded the room. His eyesight swimming with stars, Plankton threw himself through the opening, his body landing with a thump in a narrow, pipe-like corridor beyond. The water sloshed around him, carrying him away from the chamber. He had no idea where the pipe led, but it was a path to freedom, and he had to follow it. The tranquilizer made his thoughts as murky as the water around him. He tried to remember the layout of the Chum Bucket, but it was like trying to piece together a jigsaw puzzle that had been tossed into a blender. His brain felt as though it was wrapped in seaweed, each thought a struggle to form. Plankton knew he had to keep moving, but his body didn't seem to agree. His eyelids drooped, threatening to close and pull him into the abyss of sleep. The pipe leads him right to SpongeBob. "W-who...what...wha...?" Plankton slurred as the water receded, his legs still feeling like they were made of rubber. His eye blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness of the lights outside the chamber. He found himself face to face with a concerned SpongeBob, who was staring at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Plankton?" Sponge Bob's voice was filled with confusion. "What are you doing here?" Plankton tried to speak, but all that came out was a garbled mess of words. "K-Krabs...tranq-tranq...recipe...nap..." SpongeBob's confusion grew with every incoherent syllable that tumbled from Plankton's mouth. "What's going on, buddy?" "Sponge Bob...sorry...so sleepy," Plankton murmured, voice childlike. "Krabs...put me to beddy-bye...but no nap-nap." Sponge Bob looked around, his spongy brow furrowed. "Mr. Krabs didn't do anything to you, did he?" Concern etched into his porous features as he bent down to help. Plankton was a persistent pest, but Sponge Bob had a soft spot for the tiny creature. He knew deep down that Plankton's heart was in the right place, even if his methods were...less than desirable. The corridor grew dimmer as the sedative dragged Plankton under. His voice grew quieter, his words slurring into a sleepy lilt. "Krabs...so sneaky...sleepy...patty...nap time..." His eye rolled back and his body went limp. The tranquilizer had done its job, and now Plankton was out cold. "Oh no, not another one of Mr. Krabs' contraptions!" He didn't know what the crab had been up to, but he knew he had to help. Gently, he propped Plankton up. The sight of the sleep dart on the ground was the clue he needed. "Oh, Plankton," he whispered, his heart sinking. He tried shaking him gently, calling his name in a soft, urgent voice. Plankton's head lolled back, but he remained deeply asleep. "Wake up, Plankton," Sponge Bob pleaded, patting his cheek with a spongy hand. Plankton remained unresponsive. "Mr. Krabs, what have you done?" He whispered to himself, his heart racing. In all their years of rivalry, Krabs had never used a tranquilizer on his arch-nemesis. This was a new low, even for the penny-pinching crustacean. "Come on, Plankton," Sponge Bob said, his voice a mix of worry and determination. "You can't just nap here like a jellyfish." He didn't flinch. His eye remained closed, his chest rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern as he breathed in and out, completely oblivious to the world around him. Krabs had gone too far. He had to get him out somewhere safe where he could sleep off the tranquilizer. Sponge Bob had to get Plankton back to the Chum Bucket, where he could wake up safely. "Karen, Karen!" Sponge Bob called out as he laid Plankton down on the cold, metal floor of his lab. "Look what happened!" "Oh dear, Sponge Bob," she said, her voice synthetic but filled with worry. "Mr. Krabs really outdid himself this time." Sponge Bob nods. He gently patted his friend's cheek, willing him to stir. "Plankton, come on, wake up," he whispered, his voice thick with concern. Plankton was out for the count, so they wait the sedative to wear off. Plankton's features in sleep, his mouth slightly open, emitting faint snores that were barely audible. Even his eyebrow, which often furrowed in determination or anger, were now soft arches on his forehead. But as the tranquilizer's grip slowly loosened, the first stirrings of consciousness began to ripple through. His eye flickered open, and for a moment, he stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling, blinking in confusion. The world was a blur of colors and shapes that slowly began to resolve themselves into the familiar surroundings of his Chum Bucket lab. Groaning, Plankton blinked and slowly, the room came into focus. Karen's screens were alight with concern, and Sponge Bob hovered over him, his spongy hands wringing together nervously. "Wha...?" Plankton mumbled, but everything came rushing back to him. "Krabs," he spat. Sponge Bob looked down at him with a mix of confusion and relief. "You were...uh, you were tranquilized," Sponge Bob explained, his voice tentative. Plankton's eye narrowed, and a low growl built in his throat. The fuzzy memories of the chamber and Krabs' laughter grew sharper. "That cheap, slimy...crustacean! Where is he?" "Mr. Krabs isn't here," he said. "I brought you here." Plankton's gaze sharpened, his curiosity piqued. "Why would you do that?" he slurred, his voice thick with distrust. "You work for him." Sponge Bob's expression was earnest. "Because, Plankton, sometimes doing what's right is more important than where you work. Besides, I'm quitting my job and will work for you; it's what friends do."
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Science › Biology › Biology Prefixes and Suffixes: hem- or hemo- or hemato- The prefix (hem- or hemo- or hemato-) refers to blood. It is derived from the Greek (haimo-) and Latin (haemo-) for blood. Hemangioma (hem-angi-oma): a tumor consisting primarily of newly formed blood vessels. It is a common benign tumor that appears as a birthmark on the skın. A hemangioma may also form on muscle, bone, or organs. Hematic (hemat-ic): of or relating to blood or its properties. Hematocrit (hemato-crit): the process of separating blood cells from plasma in order to obtain the ratio of the volume of red blood cells per given volume of blood. Hematoid (hemat-oid): - resembling or relating to blood. Hematology (hemato-logy): field of medıcıne concerned with the study of blood including dıseases of the blood and bone marrow. Blood cells are produced by blood-forming tissue in bone marrow. Hematoma (hemat-oma): abnormal accumulation of blood in an organ or tıssue as a result of a broken blood vessel. A hematoma can also be a cĆ”ncer that occurs in the blood. Hematopoiesis (hemato-poiesis): the process of forming and generating blood components and blood cells of all types. Hematuria (hemat-uria): the presence of blood in urine resulting from leakage in the kidneys or another part of the urinary tract. Hematuria may also indicate a urinary system disease, such as bladder cĆ”ncer. Hemoglobin (hemo-globin): iron-containing proteın found in red blood cells. Hemoglobin binds oxygen molecules and transports oxygen to body cells and tissues through the bloodstream. Hemolymph (hemo-lymph): fluid similar to blood that circulates in arthropods such as spiders and insects. Hemolymph may also refer to both blood and lymph of the human bĆødy. Hemolysis (hemo-lysis): destruction of red blood cells as a result of cell rupture. Some pathogenic microbes, plant poıson, and snake venoms can cause red blood cells to rupture. Exposure to hĶžigh concentrations of chem1cals, such as arsenic and lead, can also cause hemolysis. Hemophilia (hemo-philia): a sex-linked blood disĆørder characterized by excessive bleeding due to a defect in a blood clotting factor. A person with hemophilia has a tendency to bleed uncontrollably. Hemoptysis (hemo-ptysis): the spewing or coughing up of blood from the lungs or aırways. Hemorrhage (hemo-rrhage): abnormal and excessive flow of blood. Hemorrhoids (hemo-rrhoids): swollen blood vessels located in the ani canal. Hemostasis (hemo-stasis): the fırst stage of wound healing in which the stoppage of blood flow from damaged blood vessels occurs. Hemothorax (hemo-thorax): an accumulation of blood in the pleural cavıty (space between the chest wall and lungs). A hemothroax may be caused by trauma to the chest, lung infections, or a blood clot in the lungs. Hemotoxin (hemo-toxin): a toxin that destroys red blood cells by inducing hemolysis. Exotoxins produced by some bacteria are hemotoxins.
What’s in the basement? ā€Ž ā€Ž ā€Ž ā€Ž ā€Ž ā€Ž ā€Ž ā€Ž ā†“Ė¢į¶œŹ³įµ’Ė”Ė” ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ↓ Mommy told me never to go in the basement, but I wanted to see what was making that noise. It kind of sounded like a puppy, and I wanted to see the puppy, so I opened the basement door and tiptoed down a bit. I didn’t see a puppy, and then Mommy yanked me out of the basement and yelled at me. Mommy had never yelled at me before, and it made me sad and I cried. Then Mommy told me never to go into the basement again, and she gave me a cookie. That made me feel better, so I didn’t ask her why the boy in the basement was making noises like a puppy, or why he had no hands or feet.
ᓰᵒⁿ’ᵗ įµ€Ź³įµ˜Ė¢įµ— ᓵᵗ ᔆᵗᵒʳʸ Ė”įµ‰āæįµįµ—Ź°ā ˜ į“¹įµ‰įµˆā±įµ˜įµ ᓹʸ į¶ įµƒįµ—Ź°įµ‰Ź³ ⁱˢ ᵃ įµŹ³įµ‰įµƒįµ— įµįµƒāæā€§ į¶ įµ’įµ˜Ź³įµ—įµ‰įµ‰āæ Źøįµ‰įµƒŹ³Ė¢ įµƒįµįµ’ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵉⁿᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵃ ˢᵒ˔ᵒ ᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵒⁿ įµ—įµ’ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵐᵃⁿ ᵉᵛᵉʳ įµ—įµ’ įµ—Ź³įµƒįµ›įµ‰Ė” įµ—Ź°Ź³įµ’įµ˜įµŹ° ᵃ ʷᵒʳᵐʰᵒ˔ᵉ⸓ Ė”įµ’į¶œįµƒįµ—įµ‰įµˆ ᵃ įµįµƒĖ¢Ė¢ā±įµ›įµ‰ įµˆā±Ė¢įµ—įµƒāæį¶œįµ‰ ᶠʳᵒᵐ į“±įµƒŹ³įµ—Ź°ā€§ ᓓⁱˢ Ź³įµ‰įµ—įµ˜Ź³āæ ʷᵃˢ įµ˜āæįµįµ˜įµƒŹ³įµƒāæįµ—įµ‰įµ‰įµˆāø“ įµ‡įµ˜įµ— ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ įµ–Ź³įµ‰įµ–įµƒŹ³įµ‰įµˆ įµ—įµ’ įµįµƒįµįµ‰ ᵗʰᵉ Ė¢įµƒį¶œŹ³ā±į¶ ā±į¶œįµ‰ā€§ ᓵ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʷᵉ˔ᵛᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ˔ᵉᶠᵗ įµ’įµ˜Ź³ įµ–Ė”įµƒāæįµ‰įµ— įµ—įµ’ ᵉˣᵖ˔ᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ į“³Ź³įµ‰įµƒįµ— įµāæįµāæįµ’Ź·āæāø“ ⁿᵒᵗ įµāæįµ’Ź·ā±āæįµ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵒʳ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ Ź·įµ’įµ˜Ė”įµˆ Ź³įµ‰įµ—įµ˜Ź³āæā€§ ᓵᵗ įµ—įµ’įµ’įµ ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ Ė”įµ’āæįµ Źøįµ‰įµƒŹ³Ė¢ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ į¶œŹ³įµƒį¶ įµ— įµ—įµ’ Ź³įµ‰įµƒį¶œŹ° ᵗʰᵉ įµ‰įµˆįµįµ‰ įµ’į¶  ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵐʰᵒ˔ᵉ⸓ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉ įµ–Ź³įµ‰įµ–įµƒŹ³įµ‰įµˆ įµ’įµ˜Ź³Ė¢įµ‰Ė”įµ›įµ‰Ė¢ įµ—įµ’ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ Ź°įµ‰įµƒŹ³ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱᵐ įµƒįµįµƒā±āæā€§ ᓺⁱⁿᵉ įµā±āæįµ˜įµ—įµ‰Ė¢ įµƒį¶ įµ—įµ‰Ź³ ʰⁱˢ Ė¢įµ–įµƒį¶œįµ‰į¶œŹ³įµƒį¶ įµ— įµ‡Ź³įµ‰įµƒį¶œŹ°įµ‰įµˆ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵐʰᵒ˔ᵉ ᵃ Ė¢ā±āæįµĖ”įµ‰ įµįµ‰Ė¢Ė¢įµƒįµįµ‰ ʷᵃˢ Ź³įµ‰į¶œįµ‰ā±įµ›įµ‰įµˆ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ įµ—Ź³įµƒāæĖ¢įµā±Ė¢Ė¢ā±įµ’āæ ʷᵃˢ į¶œįµ˜įµ—ā ˜ ā€œį“°įµ’āæā€™įµ— įµ—Ź³įµ˜Ė¢įµ— ā±įµ—ā€ā€§ ᵀʰᵉ į¶œŹ³Źøįµ–įµ—ā±į¶œ įµįµ‰Ė¢Ė¢įµƒįµįµ‰ ʷᵃˢ įµˆā±Ė¢įµā±Ė¢Ė¢įµ‰įµˆ ᵃˢ ā±āæįµ—įµ‰Ź³į¶ įµ‰Ź³įµ‰āæį¶œįµ‰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᓵ įµįµƒįµˆįµ‰ įµ–įµ‰įµƒį¶œįµ‰ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ į¶ įµƒį¶œįµ— įµ—Ź°įµƒįµ— ᓵ ʷᵃˢ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ įµ—įµ’ ˢᵉᵉ ʰⁱᵐ įµƒįµįµƒā±āæā€§ įµ€Ź°įµƒįµ— ⁱˢ⸓ įµ˜āæįµ—ā±Ė” ᶠⁱᵛᵉ Ź·įµ‰įµ‰įµĖ¢ Ė”įµƒįµ—įµ‰Ź³ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ Ė¢ā±įµāæįµƒĖ” į¶œįµƒįµįµ‰ įµ‡įµƒį¶œįµ ᵒⁿ˔ⁱⁿᵉ‧ ᓓⁱˢ ˢʰⁱᵖ ʰᵃᵈ Ź³įµ‰įµ—įµ˜Ź³āæįµ‰įµˆ ᶠʳᵒᵐ įµ‡įµ‰Źøįµ’āæįµˆ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵐʰᵒ˔ᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃˢ įµ—Ź³įµƒįµ›įµ‰Ė”ā±āæįµ įµ‡įµƒį¶œįµ įµ—įµ’Ź·įµƒŹ³įµˆĖ¢ į“±įµƒŹ³įµ—Ź° ā±āæįµ—įµƒį¶œįµ—ā€§ ᔆᵉᵛᵉⁿ įµƒāæĖ£ā±įµ’įµ˜Ė¢ Źøįµ‰įµƒŹ³Ė¢ ᵐᵒʳᵉ⸓ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰⁱᵖ įµ—įµ’įµ˜į¶œŹ°įµ‰įµˆ įµˆįµ’Ź·āæ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ įµ’į¶œįµ‰įµƒāæā€§ ᓵ ʷᵃˢ įµƒĖ”Ź³įµ‰įµƒįµˆŹø ᵃ įµŹ³įµ’Ź·āæ ᵐᵃⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃ ᶠᵃᵐⁱ˔ʸ⸓ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ ʰᵃᵈ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵐᵒʳᵉ įµ—Ź°įµƒāæ į¶ įµ’įµ˜Ź³įµ—įµ‰įµ‰āæ Źøįµ‰įµƒŹ³Ė¢ Ė¢ā±āæį¶œįµ‰ ᓵ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᵀʰᵉ į¶œŹ³Źøįµ’ā»Ė¢Ė”įµ‰įµ‰įµ– ʰᵃᵈ Ė¢Ė”įµ’Ź·įµ‰įµˆ ʰⁱˢ įµƒįµā±āæįµāø“ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ Ė”įµ’įµ’įµįµ‰įµˆ įµ‡įµƒŹ³įµ‰Ė”Źø ᵃ ᵈᵃʸ įµ’Ė”įµˆįµ‰Ź³ įµ—Ź°įµƒāæ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ˔ᵉᶠᵗ‧ ᓓᵒʷᵉᵛᵉʳ⸓ Ė¢įµ’įµįµ‰įµ—Ź°ā±āæįµ Ė¢įµ‰įµ‰įµįµ‰įµˆ ⁿᵒᵗ Ź³ā±įµŹ°įµ— įµƒįµ‡įµ’įµ˜įµ— ʰⁱᵐ; ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵃⁿ ᓵ Ź³įµ‰įµįµ‰įµįµ‡įµ‰Ź³įµ‰įµˆā€§ ᓓⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ ʰᵃᵈ ˔ᵒˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ Ė¢įµ–įµƒŹ³įµāø“ ʰⁱˢ įµįµ’įµ˜įµ—Ź° ʰᵃᵈ ˔ᵒˢᵗ ⁱᵗˢ Ė¢ā±įµāæįµƒįµ—įµ˜Ź³įµ‰ įµŹ³ā±āæā€§ā€§ā€§ ᓬⁿᵈ ᓵ į¶œįµƒāæā€™įµ— ˢᵗᵒᵖ įµ—Ź°ā±āæįµā±āæįµ įµƒįµ‡įµ’įµ˜įµ— ᵗʰᵉ įµ—Ź³įµƒāæĖ¢įµā±Ė¢Ė¢ā±įµ’āæāø“ Ź³įµ‰į¶œįµ‰ā±įµ›įµ‰įµˆ ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ įµ–įµƒā±āæį¶ įµ˜Ė” Źøįµ‰įµƒŹ³Ė¢ įµƒįµįµ’ā€§ ā€œį“°įµ’āæā€™įµ— įµ—Ź³įµ˜Ė¢įµ— ā±įµ—ā€ ᓹʸ į¶ įµƒįµ—Ź°įµ‰Ź³ ʷᵃˢ ᵃ įµŹ³įµ‰įµƒįµ— ᵐᵃⁿ⸓ į“®įµ˜įµ— įµ—Ź°įµƒįµ— įµ—Ź°ā±āæįµ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐʸ į¶ įµƒįµ—Ź°įµ‰Ź³ā€§ – į¶œŹ³įµ‰įµˆā±įµ—Ė¢ įµ—įµ’ā ˜ įµ—Ź°ā±āæĖ¢įµ—ā±į¶œįµ
Unknown Female Infant Found Baby in a Creek. Đeađ BĆødy Discovered in Race at Rose Valley. New Born Child Fished Out of the Water in the Rear of Fausts' Tannery on Monday--No Clue to Parties Whom Neglected the Baby--Coroner investigating. A dƩƔd female infant was found at Rose Valley, Upper Dublin township, at noon on Monday by Alvin Faust. It's discovery caused considerable excitement in the ancient village. The bĆødy, which was that of a white child, was found lying in the race of the tannery just back of Mr. Faust's new residence and near the small bridge which spans the creek. The bĆødy was that of a child apparently but a few hours old. From appearances the child could not have been placed there before late Sunday evening as Mr. Faust uses the bridge frequently during the day in passing from his house to the barn of his farm, which lies just over the creek to the south. The discovery was immediately phoned to the Coroner's office at Norristown and instructions were returned to place the corps in the hands of Undertaker Davis, of Ambler which was done immediately. Coroner Kane is expected over in Ambler this Wednesday to investigate the discovery of the dƩƔd bĆødy and ascertain if possible any clues which may lead to the apprehension of the guilty parties. Just a week ago Samuel Tyson, of near Hatboro, found the bĆødy of a baby girl in a four quart jar in a quarry near that place. The theory was advanced at that time the bĆødy in the bottle may have been a physician's specimen. The finding of a second baby in an interval of less than a week at a point not less than eight miles distant presents an entirely different line of thought--the possibility that the proprietors of baby farms in Philadelphia are taking this method of disposing of bĆødies rather than risk further chance of discovery and arrest for conducting the nefarious busıness, by disposing of the bĆødies in Philadelphia. [Source: Ambler Gazette, April 7, 1904, p. 1. Submitted by Nancy.]
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