Deathpunk Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste Deathpunk Emojis & Symbols Troy Leon Gregg was the first man to have his deat

Troy Leon Gregg was the first man to have his death penalty upheld by the Supreme Court after the decision of Furman v. Georgia, but he didn’t die in prison. Troy Leon Gregg, The Man Who Escaped Death Row Only To Be Murdered The Same Night
r/TwoSentenceHorror 3 hr. ago masiakasaurus On the last day I told my double, "only one of us be coming out alive." And I tied his umbilical cord around his neck.

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horror story (plural horror stories) (fiction) A fictional narrative of distressing events. The film is based on a horror story by Edgar Allan Poe. (informal) A disturbing rumour. ā–¼ We've heard horror stories about people being attacked in the elevator. An unpleasant experience. ā–¼ It was more of a horror story than a vacation. Translations Chinese Mandarin: 恐怖故事 (kĒ’ngbù gùshƬ) Dutch: horrorverhaal (nl) n Finnish: kauhutarina (fi) French: histoire d’horreur f, histoire d’épouvante f Hungarian: horrortƶrtĆ©net Spanish: historia de terror, historia de miedo f Swedish: skrƤckhistoria (sv) Uyghur: Ł‚ŁˆŲ±Ł‚Ū‡Ł†Ś†Ł„Ū‡Ł‚ Ś¾ŪŁƒŲ§ŁŠŪ•ā€Ž (qorqunchluq hĆ«kaye) ghost story (plural ghost stories) A story about ghosts or the supernatural, often meant to be frightening. quotations ā–² 2012, Andrew Martin, Underground Overground: A passenger's history of the Tube, Profile Books, →ISBN, page 261: There are the books full of Underground ghost stories. An invisible runner pounds along the platforms at Elephant & Castle; children scream in the basement of what used to be the surface building of Hyde Park Corner, [...] Translations ▲±story about ghosts Catalan: història de fantasmes f Chinese: Mandarin: 鬼故事 (guǐgùshƬ) Finnish: kummitusjuttu French: histoire de fantĆ“mes f German: Gespenstergeschichte (de) f Hungarian: kĆ­sĆ©rtethistória (hu) Irish: scĆ©al taibhsĆ­ m Italian: racconto dell'orrore m Korean: ź““ė‹“ (goedam) Norwegian: spĆøkelsesfortelling Portuguese: história de fantasmas f Spanish: historia de fantasmas f, cuento de fantasmas m Swedish: spƶkhistoria (sv) Welsh: stori fwgan f, stori ysbryd f
!ecin ytinummoc eht peek ot tnaw ew ,selur eht wollof dna tcepser esaelP dewolla ton era sruls fo esu eht siht ot noitidda nI- .cte ,tnemssarah ,msicar gnidulcni detarelot eb ton lliw yrotsih ni stniop elbirret yfirolg taht seliforp yna dna 2wW seifirolg taht scitehtsea 2ww /izaN sedulcni siht ,dewolla ton era seliforp evitisnesnI gnisuba fo noitnem eht edulcni taht sekoj ro yalpelor ,seirots noitidda nI- gninraw reggirt a evah tsum stcejbus gnireggirt gnivlovni seirots ynA -----

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rorroh-etirw-ot-woh/moc.sobmocijome//:sptth rorroh-gniod-erofeb-daer/moc.sobmocijome//:sptth

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!snoitome ruoy deeh dna ,gnitirw nuf evaH .rednatsyb ro ,mitciv ,nialliv eht eb rotarran eht evah nac uoY .amuart gniyfirolg on tub ,tolp eht ot sniatrap ti sa rafosni yrots ni ).cte ,espylacopa ,snosiop ,htaed ybab ,labinnac( scipot laitnetop noitnem nac uoY .ylthgil ).cte ,tceffe elbuod eht ,ediciteof ,noitucexe( scipot laisrevortnoc )noitercsid htiw( esu nac uoY )luftcepsersid sa .cte ,serutluc ,snoigiler ,seitirohtua niatrec gniyartrop( spuorg gnipytoeretS~ .cte ,nosiop ,tcudba ylpmi nac uoy hguohtla )egairram degnarra ,noitatiolpxe ekil( esubA~ .fleseno ecifircas retcarahc a evah ,revewoh ,nac uoY .cte ,mrah fleS~ 'tsohg fo ecneserp ta slworg god eht' ekil gnihtemos eb naC .slaminA~ .liated cihparg yrassecennu gnidiova ,eroG~ .gnihtemos ro 'raed ho' ekil yas naC .ytinaforP~ :spit emos era ereH .tsiwt tolp emos ro gnidne eht yawa evig yam sgninraw reggirT .kcatta cinap esuac ot sa gninethgirf ot ton tub ,yracs eb ot tnaem s'rorroh ,esruoc fO .tnuocca ot-ni ekat ot senilediug etaredisnoc emos s'erehT .cte ,evitcepsrep ,s'namuh-non fo noitacifinosreP .snosaer tnereffid ynam rof rorroh ekil yam elpoeP

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ā€œOh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad." "How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice. "You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here.ā€ —Alice in Wonderland.
niw yeht semitemos dnA su edisni evil yehT stsohg osla ,laer era sretsnoM stsohG dna sretsnoM -seirotsatsapypeerc- ~

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r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 yr. ago Gallantmirth I watched the monster's jagged claws inch slowly out from under the bed. "I won't let him in again, I promise" it assured me as my dad crept to the room.
ā˜†Ėšā‚Šā€§ź’°įƒšŸ‘ą»’ź’± ā€§ā‚ŠĖšā˜† ź§ą¼’ā˜¬š•­š–Š š•¹š–”š–™ š•¬š–‹š–—š–†š–Žš–‰ā˜¬ą¼’ź§‚
šŸŒ…ā²Æļ¹ļøæļ¹ļøæļ¹ š™³ššŠšš¢ ššŠšš—šš š™½šš’šššš‘šš ļ¹ā²Æļ¹ā²Æļ¹ļøæļ¹ā˜¼šŸŒ„
I miss my papa ✨ I really wish I didn't poison him
I found myself opening a door in the basement and then I saw the endless cavern of hour-glasses as far as the eye could see. The closest to the door had the names of my family members etched on them. I saw the sand in my parent’s hour-glasses about to run out. I called them and told them to not get on the plane. The sand in the hour-glasses refilled. —Human_Gravy
r/TwoSentenceHorror 8 mo. ago homestarmy_recruiter "Turn back," I begged my friend as he drove, sirens wailing in the background. He seemed desperate not to, at first, but after I got one of his earplugs out, he agreed that their voices were too beautiful to ignore.
r/TwoSentenceHorror 6 yr. ago Lightuke After tucking my son into bed he says "check under it for monsters under my bed" I found my son hiding under it whimpering "Daddy, there's someone on my bed..."
ā€˜Seeing Red (The First Day of School)’ by Zenryhao Everyone loves the first day of school, right? New year, new classes, new friends. I like the first day of school for a different reason, though. You see, I have a sort of power. When I look at people, I can…sense a sort of aura around them. A colour outline based on how long that person has to live. Most everyone I meet around my age is surrounded by a solid green hue, which means they have plenty of time left. A fair amount of them have a yellow orange tinge to their auras, which tends to mean a disease or fire; some tragedy. Anything that takes people ā€œbefore their timeā€ as they say. The real fun is when the auras venture into the red end of the spectrum, though. Every now and again I’ll see someone who’s basically a stoplight. Those are the ones who get in a car crash, or even a victim of crime. It’s such a rush to see them and know their time is numbered. With that in mind, I always get to class very early so I can scout out my classmates’ fates. The first kid who came in was basically radiating red. I tsk tsk tsk. Huh. But as people kept walking in, they all had the same intense red glow. I finally caught a glimpse of my own fading reflection in the window, but I was too stunned to move. Our professor stepped in and locked the door, his aura a sickening shade of green...
Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 3 yr. ago _FallenAngel__ A genie granted me my wish to become the most beautiful woman in the world forever Now I sit here in a museum, frozen in a painting for the past 500 years as people passing by admire and faun over my timeless beauty
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
ā€˜First Wordsā€˜ by alatus_corruptrix Any day now, she’ll say her first words. My wife and I have been playfully betting on what she’ll say first – ā€˜MamÔ’ or ā€˜Daddy.’ I can hear my wife crooning over and over while she feeds her ā€˜Mama’s little girl! MamĆ” loves you so much!’ Sometimes, she’s not even subtle about it – ā€˜Say ā€˜MamĆ”!’ Come on! ā€˜MamĆ”!ā€ I don’t mind it though. I still believe I’ll win. When we first brought her home, she would scream and cry and nothing my wife would say could calm her down. Ours must be a daddy’s girl. I sit her in her chair and my wife and I begin babbling like chickens – ā€˜MamĆ”!’ ā€˜Daddy!’ ā€˜Say MamĆ”!’ ā€˜Who’s daddy’s baby?’ I pull the gag from our little girl’s mouth. ā€œP-please… what do you want from me? Please, let me goā€¦ā€ My wife’s smile falls from her face. With a heavy heart, I put the gag back in as the girl starts to scream. I take her back and dispose of her. When I return, I find my wife crying. ā€œIt’s ok, honey,ā€ I tell her; ā€œthe next one will be better, I promise.ā€
r/shortscarystories 23 hr. ago captain-howdy2323 Unknown Stranger Oh my! I can hear him moving around down stairs. Can I remember if I heard him come inside? Idk. I must have because I've armed myself. I cower away in this closet. But I can't remember any of that. I must be in shock. Oh my heart is racing. I hear him coming up the stairs. It won't be long until he finds me. I can already see what everyone will be saying. "Man found in house", "The bloodbath". He's right outside the room. I'm breathing so heavily. I'm sure he can hear me. Please, stop shaking. Please, nerves calm down. He's opening the door. This is it. Finally. I've been waiting in his closet for hours.
ā€œI came home from a hard day of work only to find my girlfriend holding our child. I didn’t know which was more horrifying, seeing my dead girlfriend and child, or knowing someone put them there.ā€ -Edwin Reifer
I destroy the monsters you don’t ever want to know about. by KMApok 'Why is there bad in the world?' It’s a common question, but it is misplaced. Light and dark. Without one, the other cannot exist. I roam the Earth, disposing of the bad wherever I find it. I destroy the ones you don’t even want to know about. I eliminate them completely so you can sleep at night. You people have no idea how many of you live because of the suffocating work I do. 'What about criminals, Mussolini, Adolph...' Well, those are the 'minor' ones I had to let live. For balance. The ones I suffocatingly destroy are too horrible and vile to even speak of... You see, I would wager you never have heard of me, specifically in any religious texts. Still I bet you have known of me. Some, for example, have their own name for me: SID's short for what you might call Sudden Infant Death Syndrome..
I NEED SOME BREAD AND CEREAL TOO June 7, 2017 @hellofinah You get a phone call from your Mum. Since her car has been in the shop, she asks you to go to the grocery store and pick up a few odds and ends for her. Bread, milk, cereal, and chicken... After writing down a small list you reluctantly get in the car and pick up the items at the store. Cashier makes an odd remark to you: ā€œyou know, we’re in no danger of a milk shortage...ā€ Once arriving at mum's home, you knock several times. No answer. You decide to try the door. It opens. You place the grocery bag on the counter. Strange. There seems to be six other grocery bags, each with identical contents. In some bags, the chicken and milk have gone stale. You call out for mum, but no reply. You make your way through the kitchen and into the living room. Sitting on the couch, with her detached head neatly resting on her lap, is mum. Naturally you call the police who come over to investigate. They mention that she has been dead for nearly a week. Furthermore, the police psychiatrist is at the scene and talks to you after you give your initial statement. Sitting on the front steps, you overhear the psychiatrist talking with the crime scene investigator. ā€œIt’s not uncommon for people suffering from schizophrenia to get locked into series of repetitive behaviourā€ he says. You think to yourself, ā€œThey can’t be talking about me. Schizophrenia? Nah. Repetitive behavior? Do they think I did this?ā€ Suddenly your cell phone goes off. ā€œHello?ā€ ā€œHi hun, it’s me. Could you stop at the store and pick up some chicken and milk. Ohh, and I need some bread and cereal too.ā€ ā€œNo problem, mum; I’ll be right overā€¦ā€
ā€˜Crying isn’t going to help’ by HonestRage I'm a murder the one who killed my wife. He's just blubbering, perhaps a way of pleading, for his life... Perhaps if he spoke to me to reason, it might've ended differently. Perhaps I might've spared instead of murder if he only could talk out of it. But that was obviously not going to happen. After all, he was only just born moments 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?
"...ssol ruoy rof yrros yrev m’I .enecs eht ta deid eH .gnineve siht revird nur dna tih a yb kcurts saw ekib s’nos ruoY .swen dab emos evah I diarfa m’I tub ,yrros ylbirret ma Iā€ā€” em teL .seYā€œ .hgis detaefed a tuo tel eH .reciffo mirg eht deksa ā€?nosrevlaH .rMā€œ .thgil hcrop eht rednu doots reciffo ecilop A .ti denepo dna rood eht ot tnew ,pu tog eh ,gnilbmerT .esrow srettam ekam ylno dluow gninnuR .ti rewsna tub od dluoc eh gnihton saw erehT .em dnuof yehT .mih htaeneb yawa delbmurc ylneddus dlrow sih dna rood tnorf eht no deppat enoemos nehT ?won thgir ecilop eht ot og tsuj ton yhW .enog erutuf sih ,enog ylimaf sih ,enog reerac sih ,liaj ni sraey gninigami yb flesmih dehsinup dna siht erofeb emirc a dettimmoc reven d’eH ?nur uoy did yhW .emoh tog eh litnu rorrim weivraer sih no eye na gnipeek dna nekahs ,ssenkrad eht otni soahc eht morf yawa gnihceercs dna sag eht no gnippets ,dekcinap eh dna ylirgna deralb snroH .tnemevap eht no thgis fo tuo llef dna dooh sih ssorca dellor tsilcycib eht neht ,tloj tneloiv a saw ereht dnoces tilps a ni dna thgir sih morf emac rulb egnaro nA .detarelecca dna yrruh a ni saw eh tub ,der denrut thgil ehT .dnim sih ni revo dna revo gniyalp tpek gnineve taht reilrae tnedicca ehT .ruoh na revo rof devom t’ndah eH .moor gnivil krad sih ni tas nosrevlaH yobnniM resu tiddeR :yb nettirW .enod sah eh tahw htiw epoc ot seirt nam a ,yrots trohs rorroh siht nI tnediccA ehT :yrotS trohS rorroH

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seirots hcus ni- spuorg niatrec~ liated yrassecennu~ slamina~ -tuoba gnitirw diova

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The Vanishing Hitch-Hiker Author: Jan Harold Brunvand This next eerie story is about a man driving home late in the night when he spots a girl asking for a hitchhike. The pretty girl is dressed in a beautiful white dress. The man offers her a ride and they strike up an interesting conversation. He drops the girl at her home. Next day, while driving for work he notices that the girl by accident has forgotten her sweater in his car. He drives towards her home to hand over the sweater. An old lady opens the door when he rings the bell. He narrates the incident which occurred last night and gives the sweater to the lady. The lady refuses to accept it, saying he is mistaken. The man is surprised and questions the lady again. He is dumbstruck and left in an unsettling situation when the lady says her daughter died in a car accident a couple of years ago.
Not only have we implanted a lifetime of human memories into this rat but we can now monitor what it's thinking. It appears to think it's reading the second line of a two sentence story on-line right now..
4891ecnatsiser resu tidder ot tiderC ?eid elpoep woh ees ot rewop eht rof hsiw reve I did yhW .mitciv tohsnuG .kcab eht ni nepo nwolb si daeh ym :rorrim weiv-raer eht ni noitcelfer railimaf ym ees dna pu kool I yllautnevE .leehw gnireets eht no daeherof ym nael I sa htaerb ym hctac yllanif I rac ym nI .nac I sa tsaf sa rood eht tuo hsur I .mitciv nruB .erifpmac a otni llef taht god toh a fo ycnetsisnoc eht si sdnah dna ecaf sih no niks ehT .tnorf erots eht ta senizagam hguorht gnikool nam a ees I yletaidemmI .tixe eht sdrawot nrut dna sgab ym barg I ,reh gniknahT .lla ta gnihtyna dloh nac ti desirprus m’I delgnam os dnah a ni egnahc ym kcab sevig ehs yap I retfA .roolf eht sdrawot nwod kcab ezag ym pans I .tnedicca rac a ylbaborP .edis tfel eht no ni devac yletelpmoc si daeh s’reihsac ehT .pu ecnalg I dna revo sniw ytisoiruC .tnasaelP .ecin sdnuos eciov reH .roolf eht ot elbmum I ā€,mmh-mMā€œ .yllausac sksa ehs ā€?yako gnihtyreve dnif uoy diDā€œ .diova ot elpoep rewef thgin ta gnippohs og ylno I yhw s’tahT .elpoep rehto htiw tcatnoc eye gnidiova yb yteixna ym hguorht teg ot tseisae ti dnif I .roolf eht ta erats I sa rennacs eht ssorca smeti ym sepiws reihsac ehT thgin ta gnippohs og ylno I | 5102 ,ts13 hcraM ,yadseuT

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I was starving and lost in the woods until I found a hiker; I'm full now but I just wished she hadn���t screamed so loud.
As I played in the basement, Mother called me upstairs. From behind me, She whispered, ā€˜Don’t go up there.’ — CheckeredBag
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.
░░║║╔╗╔╗╔╗╗╔░░╔═════╗░ ā–‘ā–‘ā• ā•£ā• ā•£ā• ā•ā• ā•ā•šā•£ā–‘ā–‘ā•‘ā–‘ā•‘ā–‘ā•‘ā–‘ā•‘ā–‘ ░╔╗╗╔╔╗╦╗╔╗╗╔░║░░░░░║░ ā–‘ā•šā•—ā•‘ā•‘ā•‘ā•‘ā•‘ā•‘ā• ā•£ā•šā•£ā–‘ā•‘ā•šā•ā•ā•ā•ā•‘ā–‘ ā–‘ā•šā•ā•šā•ā•ā•ā•©ā•ā•ā•šā•šā•ā–‘ā•šā•ā•ā•ā•ā•ā•ā–‘ HAPPY SUNDAY
I Begged You ā€œPlease, I am literally begging you,ā€ I warn, but the executioner only sighs and gives me a truly sorrowful look... The chaplain sits beside me. ā€œOnce he pushes the button, death will come soon after,ā€ he explains, even though I have heard it so many times before already. ā€œAny final words?ā€ ā€œJust, again, I tell you, begging you not to do this,ā€ I say. clean conscience. That’s the thing, though; I haven’t murdered anyone. It’s been this way my The chaplain nods sadly, sorrowful that I do not face my executioner with a clean conscience. That’s the thing, though. I haven’t murdered anyone. It’s been this way my entire life. I don’t know why, but whenever I would accidentally hurt myself others near me would receive the wound. I once got a paper cut in class that caused the three people around me to bleed from their fingers. In high school, I was in a car accident, and even though my side of the car was hit, my girlfriend developed a broken leg. I’m always very careful. I take care of myself, trying to stay in the very best of health. But when I was mugged by that trio and he shot me in the face, theirs exploded, not mine. And when the cops came, they found me kneeling by their bodies, trying to figure out what to do and stupidly holding their gun. Around thirty seconds after the execution started, I see both the executioner and chaplain fall to the floor with a hard thump. ā€œI begged you,ā€ I repeat sadly. —stellarpath
āžš“›š“øš“øš““ š“Æš“øš“» š“¼š“øš“¶š“®š“½š“±š“²š“·š“° š“¹š“øš“¼š“²š“½š“²š“æš“® š“²š“· š“®š“Ŗš“¬š“± š“­š“Ŗš”‚, š“®š“æš“®š“· š“²š“Æ š“¼š“øš“¶š“® š“­š“Ŗš”‚š“¼ š”‚š“øš“¾ š“±š“Ŗš“æš“® š“½š“ø š“µš“øš“øš““ š“Ŗ š“µš“²š“½š“½š“µš“® š“±š“Ŗš“»š“­š“®š“».āž - š“‘š“»š“²š“Ŗš“· š“•š“øš“»š“­
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.
r/TwoSentenceHorror 5 yr. ago netflixandskill my son was reported missing last week they found him but it's not my son
I thought telling the genie ā€œI want to live foreverā€ But the universe went dark 3 billion years ago by douggold11
The End From Redditor u/MrCookieCutter: For the first time in recorded history, no humans died today. Granted, that's because the last one died yesterday.
r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 days ago CalebVanPoneisen While tidying up my girlfriend’s apartment I found a purple diary labelled ā€œBoyfriends Whom Dare to Lookā€. Unable to resist the temptation my heart raced, at the sight of names and dates marked with red but before I could fully process it's meaning, a voice be- hind me chuckled ā€œIt’s time to break up,ā€ as a sharp object pierced my back.
ā€œI woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. As I stood in- front of the mirror, there was no one staring back at me.ā€ -Lucas Smelser
ā€œI woke up in a joyful mood and went to my mirror with a smile on my face; only, my reflection wasn’t smiling back at me.ā€ -Aubrey Lichtfield
"?em ot od tsuj uoy did tahw ..." ,ksa ot deganam eh ,sgel sih neewteb niap eht fo esnes ekam ot yggorg ooT ".won namow a er'uoy snaem doolb eht ,seY" dlorahsiemansdadym oga .ry 4 rorroHecnetneSowT/r

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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.
r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 days ago kaoru-aeli They pointed at me, laughing and calling me "four-eyes". They weren't laughing after I decided to revealed 82 more.
r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago MintClicker Moments before the tragedy At 3, she jumped off the bed. At 7, she unbuckled her seat belt. At 12, she went to a sleepover at a friend's house. At 17, she finally received her driver's license. At 26, she said yes. At 30, she went into labor. At 39, she had one last hurrah. At 46, she signed the papers to make it final. At 55, he was diagnosed and had no one to share the news with. At 61, she celebrated her remission with a night out. At 22, she looked at herself in the mirror. At 87, surrounded by her family and friends, she smiled. There are moments before every tragedy, quick flashes of boredom or happiness, of the expected and unexpected. These moments I see. The little girl jumping off her parents bed and into an unresponsive final state. Another girl attending her first sleepover, excited and giddy, only to succumb to an unknowing fatal nut allergy. The young woman whose proposal near the shoreline was poorly thought-out, never allowing her to live to see her marriage. The older woman who finally divorced the man she came to loathe, and for that man to not take the finality of it all with dignity or peace. The man whose diagnosis was terminal. The woman whose 40th birthday ended in heartache and disaster. The girl whose last glimpse in the mirror was of herself, relieved, then raising the pistol to her temple. These moments, as innocuous as they seem, are the final looks to life before tragedy ultimately hits. And I watch them. I have to. It's my responsibility to take you all from this realm to the next. It's my duty. And I am sorry; I truly am. Because now? At this moment, they read the final sentences of a story. Some bored. Some happy. Some expecting this ending; some not. And I watch as they read these last words, fully oblivious as they are, that this, this is their moment.

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

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

ecnarongi- gnipytoerets- ssol lamina- ytinaforp- ~diovA

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

ā€˜Crying isn’t going to help’ by HonestRage She's gone, all because of him. Dead. He killed my wife. She'd still be here, if it's not for him. If only he could speak with reason; I could’ve let him live long enough to explain. But that was obviously not going to happen. After all, he was born just a few minutes ago...
Sunday, April 1, 2012 I ωιℓℓ āˆ‚Ī¹Ń” вυт му ā„“ĻƒĪ½Ń” Ī·Ń”Ī½Ń”Ń Iт ωιℓℓ Ī±ā„“Ļ‰Ī±ŃƒŃ• Ń‚ĻƒĻ‰Ī±Ńāˆ‚Ń• Ń‚Ļƒ ŃƒĻƒĻ…............ OĪ·Ń” яєqυєѕт Ī·Ń”Ī½Ń”Ń Ā¢ŃŃƒ Ę’ĻƒŃ мє ωнєη ι ωιℓℓ āˆ‚Ī¹Ń” OĪ·Ń” ωιѕн āˆ‚ĻƒĪ·'т Ę’ĻƒŃgєт мє Ī±Ę’Ń‚Ń”Ń му āˆ‚Ń”Ī±Ń‚Š½ OĪ·Ń” ƒα¢т ι ¢αη'т Ń•Ń‚ĻƒĻ мιѕѕιηg ŃƒĻƒĻ… υηтιℓ му αℓινє ♄ ♄ Kalaiyarasan G at 12:16 PM
r/TwoSentenceHorror 12 hr. ago HoardofAngryQuokkas It's happening again - I must wash away all this blood; silently, I creep out to the kitchen like I've been doing for the past three years, spending hours in the moonlight scrubbing out every speck of evidence. I know my dad and brothers think I'm some late bloomer, but I just don't want to freeze to death out in the menstrual hut like mum did.
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?
Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 days ago Turds_Unlimited Ten armed men entered my home! Wait, there were two of them...
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.
Swim at Your Own Risk In 1985, a guest at a pool party found after he drowned in the deep end of the pool. The party was for lifeguards who were celebrating a season without any drownings. ✨ Victim at Lifeguards' Party Jerome Moody was found on the bottom at the deep end of a department pool as the party ended. Mr. Moody, who was 31 years old, was not a lifeguard, but four lifeguards were on duty at the party.
Cachy the Poodle, Marta Espina, Edith SolĆ”, Anonymous man 21 October 1988 A poodle named Cachy, in Caballito, Buenos Aires, fell 13 storeys and hit 75-year old Marta Espina, ending both lives instantly. In the course of events, 46-year old Edith SolĆ” came to see the incident, and was fatally hit by a bus. An unidentified man who witnessed her death had a heart attack and also dies on his way to the hospital.
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.
Nancye Lorraine Carr .1942 – 17 Jan 1950 Daughter of Roger and Mavis GIRL FATALLY INJURED Nancy Lorraine Carr, 7, of Kingston Street, Camperdown, was fatally injured when she was knocked down by a car in Trafalgar Street, Stanmore, during afternoon. She was playing with other children in the street. She ran out from behind a parked car and was knocked down by another car. Central District Ambulance took her lo the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital, where she past soon after admission. The Sydney Morning Herald, Wednesday 18 January 1950 Rookwood, Cumberland Council, New South Wales, Australia BURIAL Rookwood Catholic Cemeteries and Crematoria Plot info: Catholic Mortuary. Sect M2. Area 15. Row 30. Grave 2681
š”š§š„š¢š¤šžš„š², š®š§š„š®šœš¤š² š¦šØš©šžš š›š«šØš­š”šžš«š¬ 17 year old boy as rn whilst riding his moped... That is tragic enough as an event but it was further reported that he was exactly a year after his 17 year old brother was riding the same moped on the same street, by the same taxi, with the same driver, carrying the same passenger. Both were reported to have collided with a taxi driven by Willard Manders. According to their father, John Henry Ebbin Sr. of Woodlawn Road, Sandys, even the passenger in the taxi was the same in both instances.
Nobody wants to go near me anymore. r/shortscarystories Nobody wants to go near me anymore. People used to like me, they'd sit next to me on a park bench, they'd smile when they saw me, they were completely comfortable bringing their girlfriends and kids around me. Not anymore. Not since that awful murd*r. Now they cross the street to avoid me, and if they do look at me, it's only with a look of disgust. I wish I could tell them all how sorry I was. Sure, nobody blames me. It's not my fault. They know it wasn't my fault. But now, they can't stand to even glance my way. I'm so lonely. God, what I wouldn't give to have someone sit down for lunch with me. I took the little things like that for granted for so long. I had to watch him dıe. They hung him, and left before he was even deį¼€d. I was the one that saw the lĆ­fe leave his eyes, saw the paın and desperation on his face, and I couldn't do a thing to help him. Those terrified eyes will haunt me for the rest of my lĆ­fe. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and save him, point the police to the hangers, and see those awful men put in jail for the rest of their lives. But I couldn't. I'll never be able to. I can't control where my branches bend, and my leaves can only rustle and whisper in the wind.
July 10 death of little Anton Bear. The 6-year-old boy, his mother and his 3-year-old sister were walking down a road on the edge of the town, about 600 miles southwest of Anchorage when a grizzly ambled up in the dim dawn light. 🐻 Anton Bear, 6, male July 10, 1992 near King Cove, Alaska The six-year-old, his mother, and sister were walking down a road when they were approached by a grizzly bear. The family fled, but the boy was chased down by the bear and devoured.
My family Story by Pansyk I died eight years ago. It wasn’t particularly tragic. Or unusual. Just a car accident. I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wife was in labor, and there was black ice on the road. He lost control of the car and I lost my life. It's not his fault. I know that. I’m not cruel. I am not vengeful. If anything, I’m the opposite.. ↓Keep reading ↓ 31ST OCT 2020 u/Pansyk I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wi҉fĆ© was in labour, and lost control of the car and I lost my lÄÆfe. It's not his fault. I am not vengeful. I’m the opposite. You see, I don’t have any family left and I had lost my few friends around that time. When it was time for my funeral, the only people who came was my boss and the family of the man who kılled me. The wi҉fĆ© held her newborn daughter Lily close to her. I hated my boss, and the cemetery was awfully lonely, so I followed the family home. Lily may as well have been my own flesh and bľood. She was sweet, and bright, and oh so very small. She had trouble sleeping if someone wasn’t rocking her crib and her parents were so tired. After they put her to bed, it was easy for me to rock her crib for her. I didn’t get tired. I could help her. As the years passed, Jack and Lori realised that they weren’t alone in the house. It didn’t take long from there to make a connection between my funeral and when I had showed up. And I’d never been malevolent, so they weren’t afraid or angry. They started to burn candles on the anniversary of my dEath day. They left an empty chair for meals and holidays. I really felt like… A member of the family. Someone is trying to force the door. Its Lori’s ex. He’s obsessive. He’s angry. He’s going to hur͘t the family. My family. The thing about ghosts, is that the more offerings you get, the stronger you become. Id been enjoying candles, trinkets, and even the occasional food item for the past five years. I was strong from that. The kn1fe feels warm in my hand. A shock of heat against the ice of my skin. Lori, Jack, and Lily are my family. I care about them. And they’re not gonna join me yet.
I Want to Help It was a beautiful morning when I woke up, the sun shining through and the wildlife up and about. I went for my morning stroll, taking my usual route. I stopped by the surface of the water, when I saw the most peculiar thing: a little girl… In there. Couldn’t she breathe? Why didn’t she come out? Panicking, I reached out and grabbed her arms, yanking her out of it and holding her close to me. She started to scream, but then seemed to be choking. I tried to calm her down. ā€œShh… Everything is fine, little one, I saved you! Relax! Breathe in!ā€ But she wouldn’t. And soon, despite all my efforts, she went limp. Not again! I couldn’t understand. I had taken her out of that horrible, disgusting air, and into the safety of the water. What had I done wrong this time? Maybe my tentacles frighten them. Maybe I wasn’t gentle enough. Human children are so unpredictable. I’ll save one for real next time, I swear.
December 13, 1977, Evansville Aces players, coaches, supporters and flight crew boarded a chartered DC-3 plane to travel to Murfreesboro for a game against Middle Tennessee. Just one minute after taking off, at 7:22 p.m. crashed, tragically taking the lives of everyone onboard. The only member of the Purple Aces who did not die in the crash was 18-year-old freshman David Furr; he was out for the season with some infirmary and thus was not on the plane that day. Lucky break? Well… Davis Lee Furr, weeks after the plane crash, and his younger brother Byron were killed in a car accident near Newton, Illinois, leaving the entire 1977 Evansville team dead.
The King and The Pizzeria On July 28, 1900, the reigning Italian King, Umberto the First, went to a small restaurant in Monza, near Milan, for his dinner. He was waited on by the restaurant’s owner personally, and upon taking his order the pizzeria, also named Umberto, realized they shared the same name. The similarities didn’t end there, however. The two men looked very much alike, and not only that but they both shared the same birthday, March 14th. On top of that, they were also both born during the same year, 1844, and both of them were born in the town of Turin! They had both even married a lady named Margherita on the same day! The date of King Umberto’s coronation was also the date that Umberto the pizzeria had opened up his restaurant. The day after eating at the restaurant, King Umberto learned that the restaurateur had been killed in an unexplained shooting. Deeply saddened by the death of his newfound friend, the King expressed his regret during a speech to a crowd. At that moment, an anarchist by the name of Gaetano Bresci pulled out his gun and assassinated King Umberto I dead.
r/shortscarystories 9 yr. ago sp00kyscary They're just so darn cute I love being a 2nd grade teacher. The kids in my class are so cute and innocent. They're at the perfect age. I used to teach sixth grade, but I quickly realised how that it was a mistake, whence cliques form, the bullying flourishes, and kids learnt how to be terrible to each other. By then, they're corrupted by bad role models, no respect for authority and no desire to learn. No; 2nd grade children are far better! The parents are still making an attempt to shield them from the harshness of the world. They look at me with wide eyes, eager to learn, taking in all I share with them. My favourite day, is Valentine's Day. They make little paper packets they place on their desks to be filled with cards and/or candy. This year, I baked some delicious cookies at home and I arrived early to deliver one to each student. I’m so excited to see the reactions. I smile all morning. I smile as the kids arrive, dressed in red and pink. I smile as they happily tear into their construction paper holders to see what's inside. I smile as they give me an adorable thank-you once they see the cookies I've made them. I smile as they bite into them. And I smile as they one by one fall to the ground, shaking and turning blue. After all, they're at such a cute age. It would be a shame to let them grow up.
6:57 AM š›š«š®š­ššš„ š«šžš¦š¢š§ššžš« : At the end of the day it all depends on you, so why you still blaming every negative outcome on other people? Stop putting so much effort in negative thoughts and start doing something productive.
š€šŒ š¬š”šØš°šžš«š¬ šØš« ššŒ š¬š”šØš°šžš«š¬?🚿 šŸŒžšŸŒ› Strictly AMšŸšæšŸŒž Love my PM showersšŸŒ›šŸšæ
r/shortscarystories 9 yr. ago manen_lyset My sister ruined my sweet 16 My sister ruined my sweet 16 It was supposed to be my special day. Everything was going to be perfect. I'd even gotten a custom made dress for the occasion. Everything was going off without a hitch, but then, my sister ruined my life. It started during the father-daughter dance. There we were, gliding across the ballroom. All eyes on me, as my beautiful gown fluttered at my feet. Suddenly, my sister started convulsing in spasm’s. Whilst everybody tried to figure out what had made the noise, the attention hog tore a hole in the side of my dress with her bare teeth. My party guests were on-edge, all because of her! She couldn't even let me have ONE single birthday to myself. She then started foaming at the mouth mumbling incoherently. By then, my friends were running scared. They shrieked in horror, the party was officially ruined, her head dropped, she went quiet and turned blue. I'm going in for surgery tomorrow to have her remains removed from my side… I've been carrying around her useless conjoint self 16 years too long..
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Giggles Chuck climbed out of the bed and made his way to the bathroom, refusing to turn on the bedside lamp in case he disturbed his wife whom was lĆ„yÄ«ng beside him. Finishing his busıness, he made his way to the sink, and just as he began to run the water, thought he heard a faint laughter coming from the bedroom. ā€œHoney? Was that you?ā€ He listened carefully, but there was no reply from that dark doorway. Chuck turned back to the sink and continued to wash his hands, certain that it was just his half-asleep brain playing tricks. However, moments later, he once again thought he could hear a faint laughter from the bedroom. He turned off the water, and began to make his way back into the bedroom. The light was off, and in the bed, he could make out the shape of his wife lĆ„yÄ«ng there. ā€œHoney? Were you laughing?ā€ Chuck flicked on the bedside lamp, and in an instant was looking into the unblinking đeađ eyes of his wife, her mouth sliced from ear-to-ear in a grotesque mockery of a smıle. Chuck felt his heart freeze, before relief washed over him. ā€œOh, it WAS you!ā€ he exclaimed with a smıle as he peeled back the Ģ› bed sheets, stıll stiff from the long dried błoođ, and climbed back into Ģ› bed, kissing his wife’s cold cheek before turning out the light. ā€œFor a moment there, I thought I was going cRaZy.ā€
r/shortscarystories 5 days ago DottedWriter My Former Highschool Bully Apologized To Me Today I stared at her as she sobbed on her knees "Alice, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for everything! I'm sorry for every horrible thing I've done to you!" Sophia said as she wept in front of me. I just stared at her as she continued to sob over all of the things she had done to me. She would directly insult or make demeaning JOKeS about me, spread n͟asty rumours about me, manipulate my friends against me, şteal a guy I had a crush on, make horrible posts about me on social media, and even manipulate some guys into doing things like jum͜pingĢØ me. She did everything if it meant I suffered in the end. I tried to tell my teachers about this, but they just turned a deaf ear, and I didn’t even bother talking to my parents about it, they were more focussed on their jobs than me. And even then, if Sophia found out I snitched, that would result in an extra beating from her and her cronies. She was behind all of my sufferıng, enjoyed the despair on my face, she enjoyed how much ab*se she inflected on me. So you could only imagine my surprise when she approached me one day and started to apologise tearfully to me As she continued to cry, my eyes started to spark with anger, anger that I had suppressed inside me for the past 5 years after highschool . I had no one to turn to for support, absolutely no one. And she dared to spew her little crocodile tears right in front of me. I had enough of it. I floated around my grave until I was behind her, I stared at her for a long minute, before I plunged my hand into her chest. She tensed up, and some of her bľood splattered onto my grave. I dug through her organs before I found what I was looking for. Her heart. It was still beating as she collapsed to the ground, her hands clutching at the wound at a desperate attempt to cover the bleeding. She coughed out błoođ, and wheezed as she continue to bleed out. I stared at how pathetic and pitiful she looked now. I stared at her as a twisted, evil, and satisfied grin crept onto my face .
ā€˜A Message From Your Personal Demons’ By MrGarm ā€œI am the worst of your demons, but you see me as a friend.ā€ Hello, my dear. You do not know who I am, but I know you. I am one of the three demons that were assigned to you at birth. You see, some people in this world are destined for greatness, destined to live happy, fulfilling lives. You, I am afraid, are not one of those people, and it is our job to make sure of that. Who are we? Oh yes, of course, how rude of me. Allow me to introduce us: Shame is my younger brother, the demon on your left shoulder. Shame tells you that you’re a freak; that those thoughts you have are not normal; that you will never fit in. Shame whispered into your ear when your mother found you playing with yourself as a child. Shame is the one who makes you hate yourself. Fear sits on your right shoulder. He is my older brother, as old as life itself. Fear fills every dark corner with monsters, and turns every stranger on a dark street into a murderer. Fear stops you from telling your crush how you feel. He tells you it is better not to try than to let people see you fail. Fear makes you build your prison. Who am I, then? I am the worst of your demons, but you see me as a friend. You turn to me when you have nothing else because I live in your heart. I am the one who forces you to endure. The one who prolongs your torment. Sincerely, Hope.
Horror Confessions @Horror_Fessions "When I was 8 I would hear what seemed like a younger girl calling for me in my back yard, my mom decided to ask around to see if any young boys had the same name as I did, turns out 8 years prior, a girl and her brother with the same name as I were murdered in a courtyard behind our house."
The Lights When I was young, I used to sleep in my mother's bed a lot due to the nightmares I frequently had as a kid. I could always find peace under the covers of my mom's bed but I now realize the actual comfort had come from the lights. Though still foggy in my memory, there had always been a pair of two lights somewhere near the ceiling of my moms room; I never thought much of them, at least nothing bad of course, they were comforting, soothing, warm. I began depending on these lights, so much that when there didn't show (only on rare occasions), I couldn't help feeling distraught and never got a good sleep. I never investigated the lights, perhaps if I had I wouldn't be in the situation I am now. Eventually I got older and gradually stopped sleeping in my mom's room. The nightmares stopped and I had relatively forgotten about the lights, until last night. Stumbling to bed around midnight after a long night of studies, I couldn't wait to just hit the bed and sleep; I didn't get much, after all. Tormented by visions I hadn't had in a long time left me paralyzed and covered in sweat when I awoke. Somewhat relieved to be back to my world I was confronted with with a fond memory brought up through a familiar feeling. It took a few moments to notice the two solid lights and by now my eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness. Adrenaline surged through my body as I gripped the sides of my bed. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed something I hadn't through the foggy memories. They weren't lights; they were glowing red eyes. I began to wonder if this was another part of a nightmare, It had to be. Deep down I knew it wasn't, this was all too real. Through lost hope and fear for the unknown a grabbed the closest thing i could, a gift from my mother on my birthday a few years ago, a snow globe from our Denver ski trip. Playing baseball at school I developed a pretty efficient throwing arm. Launching it across the room with my pitching arm the eyes went dark followed by a thump on the floor in front of my bed. Turning on the lights left a pang of guilt in my stomach, why was that so easy. Seeing the creature for the first time up close and knowing it had been around here since I was a kid brought bile up my throat. Its limbs were half as thick than an average humans and where it's skin should have been was a substance unknown to me, dark and leathery but looked as though you could stick your hand right through it, recently punctured with shards of glass. What happened next led me to believe the theory I came up with, as soon as I turned on the lights, was true. This creature wasn't my enemy; nor was it just a neutral visitor. That's when it began, the trampling creaks on the stairs, windows smashing, and above all the worst part was the grotesque shrieks and howls. I knew what I had done tonight was the worst and probably last mistake of my life. Somewhere down the hall my sister screamed. The creature, the one I had killed, had been my protection.
Mothers Illness My mother had fallen ill. She had what my dad did, at least thats what it looked like Everyone cried. I asked if we could take her to the doctor, but we cant afford it My older sister took time off college to take care of her, but we knew how it would end Mother would die like father did Two months later she did After the funeral the cops started to snooping around They questioned me first; they wanted to know what l knew: They threatened me, saying I could be charged as an adult because I was almost seventeen. I cried and said I loved my parents They took my finger prints and let me go. My sister was next They never let her go. They said she poisoned my parents for the life insurance policy she took out on them. My three younger siblings and i couldnt believe it My sister never admitted to the crime, but everyone said she was guilty. That is what it looked like. • The hardest part of it all was getting my sisters figure prints on the poison. Faking her identity to take out the insurance policies was easy Soon Id be going to a new home, with new parents. Its time to start planning my next game.
WIFE "Honey, I'm home!" I yelled, seeing my wife sitting at the dinner table already. "Nice to see you." her voice shook, a plastic smile stuck on her face. "It was a long day at work. Hey, do you mind maybe checking out upstairs? I saw your clothes strewn around...' I shrug, and start to eat dinner. "Of course!" A fuller, bigger smile. She races upstairs, and I continue eating. escarysories It's been quite a while, does it really take that long to put away clothes? So I tiptoe upstairs, and hear panicked whispering. *9111 Yes okay, this man thinks I'm his wife and.. ohmygod he's coming! My address j.* "What's going on, honey?" She screams as I impale the knife into her chest.
ᔆᵖᵒᵗ'Ė¢ į“¬įµ›įµ‰Ź³įµƒįµįµ‰ ᓰᵃʸ ᓹʸ āæįµƒįµįµ‰'Ė¢ ˢᵖᵒᵗ⸓ ᵃⁿᵈ ᓵ'ᵐ ᵃⁿ įµƒįµįµ’įµ‰įµ‡įµƒ įµ–įµ˜įµ–įµ–Źø įµƒįµ— ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ įµ‡įµ˜į¶œįµįµ‰įµ—ā€§ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ'Ė¢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐʸ ᵇᵉˢᵗ į¶ Ź³ā±įµ‰āæįµˆāø“ ʰᵉ'Ė¢ įµįµƒŹ³Ź³ā±įµ‰įµˆ įµ—įµ’ į“·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæā€§ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ įµ‡ā±į¶œįµįµ‰Ź³ įµ‡įµ˜įµ— įµƒįµ— ᵗʰᵉ įµ‰āæįµˆ įµ’į¶  ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ᵘˢᵘᵃ˔˔ʸ ᵒⁿ įµįµ’įµ’įµˆ ᵗᵉʳᵐˢ‧ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ'Ė¢ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿᵛᵉⁿᵗᵒʳ įµ’į¶  Ė¢į¶œā±įµ‰āæį¶œįµ‰ ᵃⁿᵈ įµ˜āæĖ¢įµ˜į¶œį¶œįµ‰Ė¢Ė¢į¶ įµ˜Ė” Ź³įµ‰Ė¢įµ—įµƒįµ˜Ź³įµƒāæįµ— įµ‡įµ˜Ė¢ā±āæįµ‰Ė¢Ė¢įµįµƒāæ ⁱⁿ į¶ įµ’įµ’įµˆ ā±āæįµˆįµ˜Ė¢įµ—Ź³Źøā€§ ᓓᵉ'Ė¢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵒⁿ Ė¢Ź°įµ’Ź·ā±āæįµ įµƒį¶ į¶ įµ‰į¶œįµ—ā±įµ’āæ įµ—įµ’ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ᶠᵒʳ ⁿᵒᵗ įµ‡įµ‰ā±āæįµ ᵃ ᵖᵉᵒᵖ˔ᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ⸓ įµ‡įµ˜įµ— ʰᵉ ˔ᵒᵛᵉˢ įµ’įµ˜Ź³ į¶ įµƒįµā±Ė”Źøā€§ ᓬˢ įµ‰Ė£įµ–įµ‰į¶œįµ—įµ‰įµˆāø“ ᵗʰᵉ įµƒįµ›įµ‰Ź³įµƒįµįµ‰ ᵈᵃʸ Ė¢įµ—įµƒŹ³įµ—Ė¢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ įµįµ’Ź³āæā±āæįµā€§ į“¬Ė”įµ—Ź°įµ’įµ˜įµŹ° ⁿᵒᵗ āæįµ‰į¶œįµ‰Ė¢Ė¢įµƒŹ³ā±Ė”Źø ᶜᵘᵈᵈ˔ʸ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ įµˆįµ’įµ‰Ė¢ Ė¢āæįµ˜įµįµĖ”įµ‰ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ! ᵀʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʷᵉ įµįµ‰įµ— įµ˜įµ– įµ›įµƒŹ³ā±įµ‰Ė¢āø“ ⁿᵒᵗ įµ—įµ’ ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᓵ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ˢ˔ᵉᵉᵖ ⁱⁿ‧ ᓵᶠ ᓵ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ įµįµ‰įµ— įµ’įµ˜įµ— įµ’į¶  įµ‡įµ‰įµˆ įµ‰įµƒŹ³Ė”ā±įµ‰Ź³ įµ—Ź°įµƒāæ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵒʳᵐ⸓ ᓵ'˔˔ Ė”ā±į¶œįµ įµā±Ė¢Ė¢įµ‰Ė¢ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱᶠ āæįµ˜įµˆįµā±āæįµ įµˆįµ’įµ‰Ė¢āæ'įµ— Ź·įµ’Ź³įµā€§ ᓵᵗ'Ė¢ Ź³įµƒŹ³įµ‰ ⁱᶠ ᓵ įµˆįµ’āæ'įµ— ˢ˔ᵉᵉᵖ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ įµ‡įµ‰įµˆ ʷⁱᵗʰ įµ‡įµ˜įµ— ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᓵ ᵘˢᵘᵃ˔˔ʸ ᵃᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ Ė¢įµƒįµįµ‰ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ ᓵ įµįµ‰įµ— į¶ įµ‰įµˆ įµ‡Ź³įµ‰įµƒįµį¶ įµƒĖ¢įµ— ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ įµįµ’ā±āæįµ įµ’įµ˜įµ— įµˆįµ’įµ’Ź³Ė¢ā€§ į”†ā±āæį¶œįµ‰ ʷᵉ įµˆįµ’āæ'įµ— Ź°įµƒįµ›įµ‰ ᵐᵘᶜʰ įµ‡įµ˜Ė¢ā±āæįµ‰Ė¢Ė¢āø“ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ ᵘˢᵘᵃ˔˔ʸ Ė¢įµ–įµ‰āæįµˆĖ¢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ Ź·įµ’Ź³įµā±āæįµ ᵒⁿ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ⸓ ᵐᵒˢᵗ įµ’į¶  ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ⁱⁿᵛᵒ˔ᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ įµŹ³įµ˜Ė¢įµ—Źø įµŹ³įµƒįµ‡ā€§ į“·Ź³įµƒįµ‡Ė¢ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ įµ’į¶  ᵗʰᵉ į“·Ź³įµ˜Ė¢įµ—Źø į“·Ź³įµƒįµ‡ Ź³įµ‰Ė¢įµ—įµƒįµ˜Ź³įµƒāæįµ—āø“ ᵃⁿᵈ įµŹ³įµ‰įµƒįµ—įµ‰Ė¢įµ— Ź³ā±įµ›įµƒĖ” įµ’į¶  į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæā€§ ᓵ'ᵛᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ į¶ įµ’Ź³įµįµƒĖ”Ė”Źø ᵐᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ įµ‡įµ˜įµ— ᓵ įµāæįµ’Ź· ʰᵉ'Ė¢ ᵃⁿ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ‧ ᓓⁱˢ ᵉᵐᵖ˔ᵒʸᵉᵉˢ įµƒŹ³įµ‰ į”†į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ ᵃⁿᵈ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡ā€§ ᵂᵉ įµˆįµ’āæ'įµ— ā±āæįµ—įµ‰Ź³įµƒį¶œįµ— ʷⁱᵗʰ Ė¢į‘«įµ˜ā±įµˆŹ·įµƒŹ³įµˆ ᵐᵘᶜʰ⸓ įµ‡įµ˜įµ— į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ'Ė¢ ᵒⁿ Ė¢įµ’įµįµ‰Ź·Ź°įµƒįµ— įµˆįµ‰į¶œįµ‰āæįµ— ᵗᵉʳᵐˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰ ᓮᵒᵇ įµˆįµ‰Ė¢įµ–ā±įµ—įµ‰ įµ‡įµ‰ā±āæįµ įµƒįµ— įµ’įµˆįµˆĖ¢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ Ź³įµ‰Ė¢įµ—įµƒįµ˜Ź³įµƒāæįµ—ā€§ į”†įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰į“®įµ’įµ‡'Ė¢ ᵖᵉᵗ ˢⁿᵃⁱ˔ ᓳᵃʳʸ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ Ź°įµƒāæįµĖ¢ įµ’įµ˜įµ— ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ! į“®įµ˜įµ— ᵐᵒˢᵗ Ź·įµ‰įµ‰įµįµˆįµƒŹøĖ¢ ⁱⁿᵛᵒ˔ᵛᵉ įµ—Ź³Źøā±āæįµ įµ—įµ’ Ź°įµƒįµ›įµ‰ ᵗʰᵉ Ė¢įµ‰į¶œŹ³įµ‰įµ— įµ—įµ’ ᵗʰᵉ įµŹ³įµƒįµ‡įµ‡Źø įµ–įµƒįµ—įµ—Źø! ᵀʰᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ Ė¢įµ‰į¶œŹ³įµ‰įµ—'Ė¢ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵇᵒᵗᵗ˔ᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ įµ›įµƒįµ˜Ė”įµ—āø“ įµ‡įµ˜įµ— įµƒĖ”Ė¢įµ’ įµįµ‰įµ—įµ—ā±āæįµ ᵗʰᵉ įµ–įµƒįµ—įµ—Źø ⁱᵗˢᵉ˔ᶠ ⁱˢ įµįµ’įµ’įµˆ įµ‰āæįµ’įµ˜įµŹ° ʷʰᵉⁿ Źøįµ’įµ˜Ź³ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ'Ė¢ ᵃ Ė¢į¶œā±įµ‰āæįµ—ā±Ė¢įµ—! ᔆᵒᵐᵉ įµ’į¶  į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ'Ė¢ įµ–Ė”įµƒāæĖ¢ įµƒŹ³įµ‰ ᵒⁿ ᵃ ʷʰⁱᵐ ʷʰⁱ˔ˢᵗ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ įµƒŹ³įµ‰ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵈʳᵃʷⁿ įµ’įµ˜įµ— įµ—įµƒįµā±āæįµ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧ į“¬Ė”įµ—Ź°įµ’įµ˜įµŹ° ʰᵉ'Ė¢ ⁿᵒᵗ įµ—įµ’ Ź°įµƒįµ›įµ‰ ᵃ ᵇⁱᵗᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ į“·Ź³įµƒįµ‡Ė¢ įµ—įµƒįµ˜āæįµ—Ė¢ ʰⁱᵐ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᶠᵃⁱ˔ˢ⸓ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ įµƒįµ— ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ Ź³įµ‰Ė¢įµ’Ź³įµ—ā±āæįµ įµ—įµ’ įµįµƒįµā±āæįµ ᶠᵘⁿ įµ’įµ˜įµ—Ź³ā±įµŹ°įµ— į¶œįµ’āæĖ¢ā±įµˆįµ‰Ź³ā±āæįµ įµ‡įµ˜Ė”Ė”Źøā±āæįµ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ įµƒįµ‡įµ’įµ˜įµ— ⁱᵗ!į“¬Ė”įµ—Ź°įµ’įµ˜įµŹ° ᵘˢᵘᵃ˔˔ʸ įµƒāæįµŹ³Źøāø“ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ įµā±įµŹ°įµ— į¶œįµ’įµįµ‰ įµ‡įµƒį¶œįµ ⁱⁿ įµ—įµ‰įµƒŹ³Ė¢ įµ‡įµ‰ā±āæįµ ˢᵒ įµ˜įµ–Ė¢įµ‰įµ—! ᓓᵉ'Ė¢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵘˢᵘᵃ˔˔ʸ ā±āæŹ²įµ˜Ź³įµ‰įµˆ įµ—įµ’ įµ‡įµƒįµˆāø“ įµ‡įµ˜įµ— ⁱᵗ'Ė¢ ʰᵃʳᵈ Ė¢įµ‰įµ‰ā±āæįµ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠ˔ʸ ⁱⁿ įµƒį¶ įµ—įµ‰Ź³ įµ‡įµ‰ā±āæįµ ᵗʰʳᵒʷⁿ ᵇʸ į“·Ź³įµƒįµ‡Ė¢ā€§ ᓵᶠ ᓵ į¶œįµƒāæāæįµ’įµ— į¶œŹ°įµ‰įµ‰Ź³ ʰⁱᵐ įµ˜įµ– ᓵ'˔˔ ᵘˢᵘᵃ˔˔ʸ Ź²įµ˜Ė¢įµ— ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᓵ'˔˔ Ź·įµƒįµ ᵐʸ įµ—įµƒā±Ė” ˢᵃᵈ˔ʸ įµƒįµ— įµ‰įµƒį¶œŹ° Ź³įµ‰įµ—įµ˜Ź³āæ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ‧ ᓵ ˔ᵒᵛᵉ įµįµ’ā±āæįµ ᶠᵒʳ Ź·įµƒĖ”įµā±įµ‰Ė¢ ᵃⁿᵈ įµ—įµ’ ᵗʰᵉ įµ–įµƒŹ³įµāø“ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ʷᵉ ᵐᵉᵉᵗ ᓳᵃʳʸ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ įµ—įµ’ įµįµ‰įµ— ᵗʰᵉ įµ‰Ė£įµ‰Ź³į¶œā±Ė¢įµ‰ įµ—įµ’įµįµ‰įµ—Ź°įµ‰Ź³! Ė¢įµ–įµ’āæįµįµ‰įµ‡įµ’įµ‡'Ė¢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ įµ—įµ’ Ź°įµƒŹ³įµ‡įµ’įµ˜Ź³ ᵃⁿʸ ʰᵃʳᵈ į¶ įµ‰įµ‰Ė”ā±āæįµĖ¢ įµ—įµ’ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵉ˔˔ᵒʷ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ⸓ įµ‡įµ˜įµ— ʰᵉ įµˆįµ’įµ‰Ė¢ įµƒį¶œįµ— įµ’įµ˜įµ— įµ’į¶  Ė”įµ’ŹøįµƒĖ”įµ—Źø įµ—įµ’ ᵗʰᵉ įµŹ³įµƒįµ‡ā€§ ᓱᵛᵉⁿ ˢᵒ⸓ ʰᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ ᵇᵒᵗʰ įµƒįµ—įµ—įµ‰įµįµ–įµ— įµ—įµ’ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ į¶œįµ’įµįµįµ’āæ įµŹ³įµ’įµ˜āæįµˆā€§ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᓵ įµįµ‰įµ— ᵐʸ įµˆā±āæāæįµ‰Ź³āø“ į“·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæ įµįµƒįµįµ‰Ė¢ ʰᵉʳˢᵉ˔ᶠ ᵃⁿᵈ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ Ė¢įµ’įµįµ‰įµ—Ź°ā±āæįµā€§ ᓬˢ ᵃ į¶œįµ’įµįµ–įµ˜įµ—įµ‰Ź³āø“ į“·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæ įµˆįµ’įµ‰Ė¢āæ'įµ— āæįµ‰įµ‰įµˆ į¶ įµ’įµ’įµˆ ᵖᵉʳ ˢᵉ‧ ᔆᵗⁱ˔˔⸓ ˢʰᵉ įµˆįµ’įµ‰Ė¢ ʷʰⁱᵖ įµ˜įµ– ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᶠᵒʳ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ'Ė¢ įµįµ‰įµƒĖ”Ė¢! ᓵ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ įµįµ‰įµ— ˔ᵉᶠᵗᵒᵛᵉʳˢ! ᓼᵘʳ įµ‰įµ›įµ‰āæā±āæįµĖ¢ įµƒŹ³įµ‰ įµįµ’įµ’įµˆ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉ įµˆįµ’Ź·āæįµ—ā±įµįµ‰āø“ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃ˔˔ įµ’į¶  ᵘˢ įµˆįµ’ įµ’įµ˜Ź³ ᵒʷⁿ įµ—Ź°ā±āæįµā€§ ᓵ įµ—įµ‰āæįµˆ įµ—įµ’ Ź·įµƒįµ—į¶œŹ° į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ Ź·įµ’Ź³įµ ᵒⁿ Ė¢įµ’įµįµ‰įµ—Ź°ā±āæįµāø“ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ Ė”ā±įµįµ‰Ė¢ Ź°įµƒįµ›ā±āæįµ įµƒĖ”įµ’āæįµ‰ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ‧ į“·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæ ᵘˢᵘᵃ˔˔ʸ ʳᵘⁿˢ Ė¢įµ—įµƒįµ—Ė¢ ᵒʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉ į¶œįµ’įµįµ–įµ˜įµ—įµ‰Ź³ įµ˜įµ–įµˆįµƒįµ—įµ‰Ė¢ā€§ ᓵ ᵐᵃʸ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵃ į¶œŹ°įµ‰Ź· įµ—įµ’Źø įµ—įµ’ įµ–Ė”įµƒŹø ʷⁱᵗʰ⸓ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᓵ įµƒĖ”Ė¢įµ’ įµˆįµ’ ⁱᶠ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ᵛᵉ ᵃ įµˆįµƒįµ—įµ‰ āæā±įµŹ°įµ—ā€§ ᓬ ᶠᵘⁿ įµ—Ź°ā±āæįµ ʷᵉ įµˆįµ’ ⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵛⁱᵉ āæā±įµŹ°įµ— ʷʰᵉⁿ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ įµ–ā±į¶œįµĖ¢ įµ’įµ˜įµ— Ė¢įµ’įµįµ‰įµ—Ź°ā±āæįµ įµ—įµ’ Ź·įµƒįµ—į¶œŹ°! ᓵ'˔˔ ᵇᵉ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᶠᵃ˔˔ įµƒĖ¢Ė”įµ‰įµ‰įµ– ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ Ė”įµƒįµ–! į“¼āæį¶œįµ‰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ⁱˢ įµˆįµ’āæįµ‰āø“ ʷᵉ įµįµ‰įµ— Ź³įµ‰įµƒįµˆŹø įµ—įµ’ įµ‡įµ‰įµˆā€§ ᓬˢ įµƒį¶ įµ’Ź³įµ‰įµįµ‰āæįµ—ā±įµ’āæįµ‰įµˆāø“ ᓵ ᵐᵒˢᵗ˔ʸ ˢ˔ᵉᵉᵖ ᵒⁿ ᵇʸ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ'Ė¢ Ė¢ā±įµˆįµ‰ ᵗʰᵉ įµ‡įµ‰įµˆā€§ į“·įµƒŹ³įµ‰āæ'Ė¢ ᵃ į¶œįµ’įµįµ–įµ˜įµ—įµ‰Ź³āø“ ˢᵒ ˢʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ įµ‰įµƒĖ¢ā±Ė”Źø Ź²įµ˜Ė¢įµ— ᵒⁿ ʰᵉʳ ᵒʷⁿ Ė”ā±įµ—įµ‰Ź³įµƒĖ”Ė”Źø Ź³įµ‰į¶œŹ°įµƒŹ³įµįµ‰ ᵒʳ įµ–įµ˜įµ— ᵒⁿ ˢ˔ᵉᵉᵖ įµįµ’įµˆįµ‰ ᵒʳ Ź·Ź°įµƒįµ—įµ‰įµ›įµ‰Ź³āø“ ˢᵒ ˢʰᵉ ʰᵃˢ įµ—įµ’ įµ—įµ˜Ź³āæ ᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ įµ’Ź³įµˆįµ‰Ź³ įµ—įµ’ ᵇᵉ įµƒŹ·įµƒįµįµ‰ ᓵ įµįµ˜įµ‰Ė¢Ė¢ā€§ įµ€Ź°įµ˜Ė¢āø“ ˢʰᵉ įµˆįµ’įµ‰Ė¢āæ'įµ— Ź°įµƒįµ›įµ‰ įµˆŹ³įµ‰įµƒįµĖ¢ ᵃⁿᵈ/ᵒʳ āæā±įµŹ°įµ—įµįµƒŹ³įµ‰Ė¢ā€§ ᓵᵗ įµˆā±į¶ į¶ įµ‰Ź³Ė¢ įµ˜Ė¢ā€§ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᓵ ā±įµįµƒįµā±āæįµ‰ Ė¢į¶œįµ‰āæįµƒŹ³ā±įµ’Ė¢ ᵒʳ ʳᵉ˔ⁱᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ'Ė¢ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗˢ įµ—įµ’ ˢᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒⁿᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐʸ įµˆŹ³įµ‰įµƒįµĖ¢ įµ’į¶  ᵗʰᵉ āæā±įµŹ°įµ—ā€§ į“°Ź³įµ‰įµƒįµ ᵒʳ ⁿᵒ⸓ ᓵ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢ˔ᵉᵉᵖ ʷᵉ˔˔ Ź³įµ‰Ė¢įµ—įµ‰įµˆ įµ—Ź°Ź³įµ’įµ˜įµŹ° ᵗʰᵉ āæā±įµŹ°įµ— įµ‰įµƒį¶œŹ°ā€§ ᔆᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᓵ'˔˔ įµƒŹ·įµƒįµįµ‰āæ įµ—įµ’ į“¾Ė”įµƒāæįµįµ—įµ’āæ Ź°įµƒįµ›ā±āæįµ ᵃ įµ‡įµƒįµˆ įµˆŹ³įµ‰įµƒįµāø“ ˢᵒ ᓵ'˔˔ āæįµ˜į¶»į¶»Ė”įµ‰ ᵒʳ Ź³įµ˜įµ‡ įµƒįµįµƒā±āæĖ¢įµ— ⁱⁿ Ź°įµ’įµ–ā±āæįµ įµ—įµ’ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ᵗʰᵉ āæā±įµŹ°įµ—įµįµƒŹ³įµ‰āø“ ⁱᶠ ⁿᵒᵗ Ź³įµ‰įµƒĖ¢Ė¢įµ˜Ź³įµ‰ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᓵ įµāæįµ’Ź· ʰᵉ'Ė¢ ᵃᶠʳᵃⁱᵈ įµ’į¶  Ź·Ź°įµƒĖ”įµ‰Ė¢ Ė”ā±įµįµ‰ į“·Ź³įµƒįµ‡Ė¢ įµˆįµƒįµ˜įµŹ°įµ—įµ‰Ź³āø“ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ į“·Ź³įµƒįµ‡Ė¢ įµ—įµƒįµ˜āæįµ—Ė¢ ᶜᵃⁿ įµįµ‰įµ— įµ—įµ’ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒ įµ–įµ‰Ź³Ź°įµƒįµ–Ė¢ ᵗʰᵉʸ Ź·įµ’Ź³įµ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʷᵃʸ'Ė¢ ⁱⁿ⁻ᵗᵒ įµˆŹ³įµ‰įµƒįµĖ¢ā€§ ᓵ ʷᵒʳʳʸ įµƒįµ‡įµ’įµ˜įµ— ʰᵒʷ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᓵ ˢ˔ᵉᵉᵖ įµ—Ź°Ź³įµ’įµ˜įµŹ° ᵃ įµ‡įµƒįµˆ āæā±įµŹ°įµ—įµįµƒŹ³įµ‰āø“ įµ‡įµ˜įµ— ᓵ ᵘˢᵘᵃ˔˔ʸ įµƒŹ·įµƒįµįµ‰ įµ—įµ’ ᵃⁿʸ į¶œĖ”įµƒįµįµ’įµ˜Ź³Ė¢ ᵒʳ įµ—įµ’Ė¢Ė¢ā±āæįµ ᵃⁿᵈ įµ—įµ˜Ź³āæā±āæįµā€§ ᓬ˔˔ ⁱⁿ ᵃ˔˔ ᓵ ˔ᵒᵛᵉ ˔ⁱᶠᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖ˔ᵉ ⁱⁿ ⁱᵗ! ᓵ'ᵐ Ź°įµƒįµ–įµ–Źø ᵃⁿᵈ Ź·įµ’įµ˜Ė”įµˆāæ'įµ— įµ—Ź³įµƒįµˆįµ‰ ⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ Ź·įµ’Ź³Ė”įµˆā€§
3:20 PM š‘«š’†š’‚š’“ š’‘š’“š’†š’•š’•š’š š’ˆš’Šš’“š’š’”..š’‰š’š’˜ š’‚š’“š’† š’šš’š’–? š’˜š’†š’š’ š’•š’š’…š’‚š’š'š’” š’‘š’š’”š’• š’š’†š’•'š’” š’•š’‚š’š’Œ š’‚š’ƒš’š’–š’• "š’ƒš’† š’šš’š’–š’“ š’š’˜š’ š’ƒš’š’šš’‡š’“š’Šš’†š’š’…" Ėšą­Øą­§ā‹†ļ½”Ėš ā‹†š’‰š’š’• š’ˆš’Šš’“š’š’” š’…š’š’'š’• š’š’†š’†š’… š’ƒš’š’šš’‡š’“š’Šš’†š’š’…š’” š’‚š’š’… š‘°'š’Ž š’š’š’• š’”š’‚š’šš’Šš’š’ˆ š’•š’‰š’Šš’” š’Šš’ š’‚ š’”š’–š’‘š’†š’“š’‡š’Šš’„š’Šš’‚š’ š’˜š’‚š’š š’ƒš’–š’• š’Šš’ š’‚ š’˜š’‚š’š š’š’Šš’Œš’† š’•š’“š’–š’† š’”š’†š’š’‡ š’š’š’—š’†. š‘­š’‚š’š’ š’Šš’ š’š’š’—š’† š’˜š’Šš’•š’‰ š’šš’š’–š’“š’”š’†š’š’‡, š’•š’“š’†š’‚š’• š’šš’š’– š’š’Šš’Œš’† š’šš’š’–'š’“š’† š’‚š’ š’Šš’„š’š’,š’”š’š’Žš’†š’•š’Šš’Žš’†š’” š’˜š’† š’š’š’š’Œ š’‡š’š’“ š’Šš’• š’Šš’ š’ƒš’š’šš’‡š’“š’Šš’†š’š’…š’” š’ƒš’–š’• š’˜š’† š’…š’š’'š’• š’š’†š’†š’… š’Šš’• š’ƒš’†š’„š’‚š’–š’”š’† š’˜š’† š’„š’‚š’ š’…š’ š’Šš’• š’ƒš’š š’š’–š’“š’”š’†š’š’—š’†š’”. š‘Øš’š’… š’š’†š’•'š’” š’ˆš’ š’•š’ š’•š’‰š’† š’…š’‚š’Šš’š’š š’•š’‚š’”š’Œš’” š’•š’‰š’‚š’• š’˜š’† š’Žš’–š’”š’• š’…š’: š’•š’‚š’Œš’† š’„š’‚š’“š’† š’š’‡ š’šš’š’–š’“ š’ƒš’†š’‚š’–š’•š’š.(š’†š’™š’‚š’Žš’‘š’š’†š’”: š’…š’ š’”š’Œš’Šš’ š’„š’‚š’“š’†, š’‰š’‚š’Šš’“ š’„š’‚š’“š’† š’‚š’š’… š’”š’š’Žš’†š’•š’‰š’Šš’š’ˆ š‘° š’‰š’Šš’ˆš’‰š’š’š š’“š’†š’„š’š’Žš’Žš’†š’š’… š’Šš’” š’”š’†š’š’‡ š’„š’‚š’“š’† š’…š’‚š’šš’”.Ėšą­Øą­§ā‹†ļ½”Ėš ⋆ š’•š’‚š’Œš’† š’„š’‚š’“š’† š’š’‡ š’šš’š’–š’“ š’‰š’†š’‚š’š’•š’‰ š’˜š’‰š’†š’•š’‰š’†š’“ š’…š’š’Šš’š’ˆ š‘·š’Šš’š’‚š’•š’†š’”, š’š’“ š’…š’š’Šš’š’ˆ š’†š’™š’†š’“š’„š’Šš’”š’†š’”, š’˜š’‚š’š’Œš’Šš’š’ˆ š’†š’•š’„.Ėšą­Øą­§ā‹†ļ½”Ėš ⋆ š’…š’ š’•š’‰š’Šš’š’ˆš’” š’šš’š’– š’š’Šš’Œš’† š’š’Šš’Œš’† š’“š’†š’‚š’…š’Šš’š’ˆ, š’”š’‰š’š’‘š’‘š’Šš’š’ˆ, š’š’Šš’”š’•š’†š’š’Šš’š’ˆ š’•š’ š’Žš’–š’”š’Šš’„.Ėšą­Øą­§ā‹†ļ½”Ėš ⋆ -xoxo pretty girlĖšą­Øą­§ā‹†ļ½”Ėš ⋆.
"Today, after a 72 hour shift at the fire station, a woman ran up to me at the grocery store and gave me a hug. When I tensed up, she realized I didn't recognize her. She let go with tears of joy in her eyes and the most sincere smile and said, "On 9-11-2001, you carried me out of the World Trade Center."
Hαvє α nĆ­cє ᓅαч! ā˜•ļø
Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 8 yr. ago EvantheNerd83 A Perfect Baby š‘¾š’‚š’“š’š’Šš’š’ˆ: š’‰š’‚š’•š’† A Perfect Baby When she was born, Little Jamie got all the attention. Her mother cradled her in her arms and the doctors and nurses who were present crowded around them. They peered over the shoulders of their coworkers. They wanted to see the most perfect baby in the world. And Little Jamie was perfect. She had bright blue eyes that shone like sapphires, such a deep shade that it reflected the sky. A pink and soft body. She glowed under the fluorescent lights of the hospital room, an angel delivered in mortal form. Everyone stared and cooed and stroked her puffy cheeks, took out their cameras and took pictures when they could, complimented her mother for conceiving such a lovely child. Her mother blushed in embarrassment and scratched her black hair. It was a joyful reception until the armed men in the uniforms stepped in to the room. Laughter died. Awkward coughing ensued. It was time to follow the rules. The symbol pinned to their chests declared as much. Little Jamie was handed over to them, their stoic expressions remaining untainted as they walked out. Her mother watched and begged and screamed. But, the nurses held her back. Urged her to be quiet. For her own sake. Little Jamie's newborn wailing cut-off down the hallway. The elevator door had closed. Now, she was downstairs with the others. Little Jamie was perfect, but mortal perfection wasn't acceptable. She had to be Aryan.
- April 06, 2011, 01:05 PM Roy Sullivan was hit by lightning seven times between 1942 and 1977 the odds of this are 4.15 in 100,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000
EVANSVILLE — Tragedy struck the community of Evansville on Dec. 13, 1977, when a plane carrying the men's basketball team crashed shortly after takeoff, killing all 29 on board. The team was headed from the Evansville Regional Airport to the Nashville International Airport in Tennessee. The Purple Aces were scheduled to play the Middle Tennessee Blue Raiders. The DC-3 crashed roughly 90 seconds after takeoff. David Furr (Deceased) had an ankle injury at the time and did not board the doomed flight. However, tragedy struck again just two weeks after the plane crash when Furr and his brother Byron D. Furr (1961-1977) were killed in a car crash northeast of Newton on December 27, 1977.
Lord Carnarvon was the financial backer of the 1922 expedition which recovered the treasure from the tomb of King Tut—and just one of the several expedition members to be struck down by the ā€œmummy’s curse.ā€ When King Tutankhamen’s tomb was excavated, the ominous inscription ā€œDeath shall come on swift wings to him who disturbs the peace of the Kingā€ was found near the doorway. Sure enough, four months and three days after the tomb was opened, the earl died of an infected mosquito bite. Must be a coincidence, you say? Well, maybe. But when Tutankhamen’s mummy was unwrapped, a strange mark was found on his left cheek, exactly matching the spot of the mosquito bite on Lord Carnarvon’s cheek, which proved to be his death warrant.
The King’s Double King Umberto I of Italy came upon his own double by accident. While eating dinner at a small restaurant, Umberto noticed that the restaurant owner was nearly identical in looks to himself. But they soon discovered more similarities: they were both born in the same town on the same day in the same year, they both married a woman named Margherita, and the owner had opened his restaurant on the same day as Umberto was crowned King. Wait, it gets weirder: the day after the pair met, on July 29th, 1900, the owner was kılled in an accıdental shootıng – the same day that Umberto was assassinated.
2009-10-23 22:47:37 On November 26, 1911, three men were hanged in Greenberry Hill in London after being found guilty of the murder of Sir Edmund Berry. Name three of them, among others, Green, Berry and Hill.
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