Dollcore Emoji Combos

cute words u can add to ur user :3 vamp/vmp lub kiti cat yum miu cwr ui cui pop pup nom star chu mwa search ' pwnkic ' for more

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 wi҉fé was in labour, and lost control of the car and I lost my lįfe. 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 wi҉fé 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.

vicenarian (20–29) tricenarian (30–39) quadragenarian (40–49) semicentenarian (50) quinquagenarian (50–59) sexagenarian (60–69) septuagenarian (70–79) octogenarian (80–89) nonagenarian (90–99) ultracentenarian (100+) centenary semisupercentenarian (105–109) supercentenarian (110+) supracentenarian centevicenarian ages 120-129 ↓ below are unreached ages of human people ↓ sesquicentenarian (150–159) bicentenarian (200–299) multicentenarian (200+) tricentenarian (300–399) quadricentenarian (400–499) quincentenarian (500–599)

Repost this If you miss someone right now. July 27, 2015

୨୧ ୨˚̣̣̣୧ ꔫ ꪆৎ 𐙚 ೨౿ ੭୧ ౨ৎ ꣑୧ 𖧁୧ ྀི 𝜗𝜚 ೀ search ' pwnkic ' for more

░░░HAPPY░FATHER'S░DAY░░░ ▄▄▄░░▄▄░▄▄░░▄▄░░░▄░░▄▄░░ ░█░░███████░█░█░█░█░█░█░ ░█░░▀█████▀░█░█░█▄█░█░█░ ▄█▄░░░▀█▀░░░█▄▀░█░█░█▄▀░ I 🤍 DAD

ꪆ୧⠀⠀ ͡ ݂ ࣭ ࣭⠀⠀ᥒam𝚎⠀ₒᵣ⠀ᥒam𝚎⠀໒꒱ྀ། ⠀ི ·̩͙ ꒰ঌུ ✙⠀𝚒ᥒf᥆　𓎢𓎟𓎟𓎡 ୨˚̣̣̣୧　𝚒ᥒf᥆　𓏵𓏵 𝚒ᥒf᥆ search "he4rtfangzz" for more or join https://discord.gg/fzYuA8s82s :3

r/shortscarystories 8 hr. ago k_g_lewis The Family Secret The red-headed girl in the summer dress stepped into the old man’s room. When he didn’t acknowledge her presence, she cleared her throat. The man looked up from the puzzle he was building, gasping and clutching his chest when he saw the child, “Autumn?” he whispered, “Is that really you?” “Hello, Grandpa,” Autumn smiled. “What are you doing here?” he asked. Autumn crossed the room until she was standing in front of her grandfather. “I’m here because I need your help,” she replied. The grandfather stared at her for a moment before turning his attention back to his puzzle. “There’s nothing I can do to help you,” he said. “That’s a lie and you know it,” Autumn snapped at him. “Please go,” he whined, “You shouldn’t be here.” “I’ve got nowhere else to go,” Autumn said, “That’s why I need your help.” The grandfather ignored her, reaching a remote on the table next to his puzzle. Once it was in his hand, he pressed the large button to call the nurse. A minute later, one of the nurses walked into the room. “What can I do for you, Mr. Sinclair?” the nurse asked. “I would like her to leave,” he pointed at Autumn. “You’d like who to leave?” the nurse looked around the room, “There’s nobody in here but you.” “You know she can’t see me,” Autumn said, “Only you can because you know what happened to me.” “No,” her grandfather shook his head, “No, I don’t.” “Are you okay, Mr. Sinclair?” the nurse asked, “Should I call your son?” “No,” he snapped, “Don’t call him. I’m fine.” “Are you sure?” “I’m positive,” he insisted, “You can go.” “Okay,” the nurse turned and left the room. Autumn stood there, staring at her grandfather. “Stare all you like,” he said, continuing to work on his puzzle, “I can’t help you. In a rage, Autumn swept the half-finished puzzle off the table. “If you ever want to see Grandma again, you’ll do the right thing and help me,” she spat the words out. Tears started to fall from his eyes. Seeing his resistance starting to crack, Autumn continued. “You’ll never get to if you don’t tell someone what happened to me.” “But I didn’t have anything to do with it,” her grandfather insisted, “Your father is the one who needs to confess, not me.” “What did my father do to me?” Autumn whispered. Her grandfather poured his heart out, telling her everything that happened to her. “I’m sorry,” were the last words he said. “That’s all we wanted to hear,” the girl pretending to be Autumn reached up and pulled the wig off her head. A moment later the nurse walked back into the room, but she wasn’t really a nurse. When she returned to the room, she had a police badge hanging around her neck. “That was an Oscar-worthy performance,” she said, putting her arms around the girl’s shoulders and leading her into the hall.

https://www.wordexample.com/list/words-suffix-cide Foeticide, of a fetus Neonaticide, of a child during the first 24 hours of life Infanticide, an infant from month old to 12 months Avunculicide, one's uncle Fratricide, one's brother Mariticide, one's husband or significant other Matricide, one's mother Nepoticide, one's nephew Parricide, of one's close relative Patricide, of one's father Sororicide, of one's sister Uxoricide, of one's wife or girlfriend Nepticide, of one's niece Amiticide, of one's aunt Geronticide – the abandonment of the elderly to Senicide

𓂃 ࣪ 🩰 ꒰ ִ ࣪𖤐 . • 🪞 ✦

𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝔀𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓲𝔃𝓮: 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 & 𝓫𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂'𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓯𝓮. ଓ

𝓘'𝓶 𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓪 𝓜𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻, 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓼𝓷'𝓽 𝓪 𝓖𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 ~ 𝓾𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷

r/shortscarystories 10 hr. ago KieranWriter Family Photo The father stood at the front of the family photo and beamed a huge smile. The kids were seated in front of the father on little stools. His wife Deborah was at his side and he had his arms around her. The camera was an automatic one the father had set before quickly running to get in to the frame. Click. Big smiles. The father walked over to the camera. Just one more. Click. Big smiles. It was done. A perfect family portrait. Get this up in a frame and he can take it with him wherever he goes... The father put the kids to their beds and then his wife in front of the TV. It was Desperate Housewives; her favourite! It made the father smile. Don’t worry dear, I’ll do the dishes. I’ll load the washing. You just watch TV. The father was a perfect husband. He did everything that he said he would. A real whizz around the house. The house was sparkling by the time he had finished. There was a chime on Deborah’s phone. It was her sister Mary - Hey, not heard from you all day. You ok? Deborah won’t mind, I will just shoot off a short message so that Mary isn’t too alarmed. - Hey all good, just watching TV, really tired. Long day. Off to bed soon xx. It’s fine. They look at each other’s phones all the time. There’s trust in this relationship. A reply from Mary - OK call me tomorrow xx The father thought for a moment, just a moment, a flicker of worry, then replied - sorry better I don’t, I’ve caught a bad sore throat. The father went into the living room to Deborah and gave her a big kiss on the forehead... The next day, the father puts the frame up in the hallway, it will be the first thing that people will see when they walk into the house - the beautiful family, everybody’s dream... Then he spent about an hour mowing the lawn. After everything around the house was sorted, the father knew he could relax, finally relax and that the pressure was on for anything unexpected visits, so they don't walk into a dirty home... He got into the car and took it out of the garage, turned it around and hit the road heading out of suburbs and through the city. He loved his family, he really did, but sometimes a man needs a change and this father needs a fresh start. It wasn’t his first change of scenery. He looked at the copy of the picture of his wife and kids on the dash board and he felt a stab of pain... If only he had taken that picture when they were still alive...

ᨻ ᨵ 𞋒 ᜊ ᩍ 𐚁 ᰔ ᡴ᠀ এ ༯ ᦒ ᦂ ო ෆ ꯁ ಇ ఌ 𑁘 𐩄 ꨄ ᥫ᭡ ᡣ𐭩 ꑘ ৻ꪆ 𑣲 ꪫ 𑁤 ღ ɷ ʚɞ ♡ ‹𝟹 ❤︎ ❥ ‹3 Ɛ> ♥︎ ❦ ❧ ☙ ❢ ♡⃕ ♡̶ ♡⃘ ♡⃝ ♡⃞ ♡⃤ ♡͜ ♡̸̸ ♡̲ search ' pwnkic ' for more

https://www.bassettbranches.org/tng/getperson.php?personID=I9186&tree=14B Francis Edmund Bessette Male 1904 - 1917 (~ 12 years) Name Francis Edmund Bessette Father Augustin Seymour Bessette, b. 1870, d. 28 Aug 1948 (Age 78 years) Mother Marie Louise Poulin Born Jul 1904 Richford, Vermont Gender Male Died 1917 Richford, Vermont The Bennington Evening Banner, Friday, October 10, 1919 Boy Suffocates In Elevator Head Forced Between Knees When Caught in Pit by Descending Car Richford, Oct. 8 ? Edmund (Edward?) Bessette, the 15-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. Seymour Bessette, died of suffocation shortly after six o?clock tonight in a very unusual accident, his body being caught between the bottom of an elevator pit and the descending elevator, which forced his head between his knees and shut off his breath. The accident happened as the lad went down to the basement of the Sweat Comings building for the purpose of getting some cracked ice to put in ice cream tanks for he Corliss Candy Kitchen where he was emplo9yed after school hours. The buckets were filled with ice and it is supposed that the boy pulled the cable starting the elevator down and it pushed him under it. The accident was discovered when the boy failed to show up. H.H. Comings, first selectman, and Dr. R. M. Pelton were summoned and removed the body to the undertaking rooms of Powell & Comings, where and examination was held. No broken bones or even abrasions were discovered on the body and death was found due to suffocation. Buried All Saints Cemetery, Richford, Vermont https://www.bassettbranches.org/tng/getperson.php?personID=I9186&tree=14B

Yesterday I saw a mother and daughter studying for a big test, and the daughter has a disability . A man at the restaurant paid for their dinner and said, " God bless you for taking the time and working with YOUR daughter, and not paying someone else to do it". Loving families like this GMH ! Mar 22, 2011 at 3:00am by Morgan E, Nashville, TN

Today my aunt found out she's having a girl She told me she was upset, I asked why She said "I don't think anyone can live up to be as great as you, but then I remember that she will have you to look up to and to become as wonderful" My aunts love for me GMH:) Jul 15, 2013 at 4:00am by Ashley S

In 1989 a woman gave birth to a girl who had down syndrome, and a hole in her heart and stomach. She died 3 years later. Her next child was miscarried. She got pregnant again and was told to have an abortion that refused even though she knew the risks were high for her and the baby. Here I am 14 years later, perfectly healthy. Mom, your LGMH Dec 1st, 2014

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

꣑୧ㅤ ִㅤOO1ㅤ⸝⸝ㅤO6O32O24 ㅤㅤㅤ╰ㅤdo you guys know more ppl here who post cool stuff yk ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤthe cool ppl that post cool symbols with cool users if ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤyes plz drop it here tysm ANSWER: i really think bwunny 's symbol thingies are cool lolz

Do need the pap smear test if a virg!n and/or not s*xual active? You may not necessarily require, unless... You want to plan on having offspring To check for as*ault (such as ab*se) A family relation has had female reproductive cancer if contemplating feticidal abort1on If getting some reproductive apparatus if any of the above applies to you, the circumstances might be different regarding whether or not you as a virg!n should get one if you're not active The pap smear test only checks for cancers caused by the hpv transmitted virus which is transmitted vía such contact If you're not virg!n you may have hpv (said cancer causing virus, which the pap checks you for) dormant in your system

“I 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.” -Edwin Reifer

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.

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS x (Autistic Author) Karen's heart squeezes as she sees the vulnerability in her husband. She reaches out and takes Plankton's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "We're all learning here," she says. "And we'll keep figuring it out together." Then, Chip speaks up again, his voice a little stronger. "Daddy," he says, "I still want to show you affection." Plankton looks up, his antennae twitching with a hint of sadness. "I know, buddy," he says. "And I appreciate that. But sometimes, my brain needs a different kind of love." Chip frowns. "But I don't know how," he says. Plankton's antennae wiggle as he thinks. "How about this?" he suggests, his eye brightening slightly. "You can make me a 'love rock'." Chip's eyes light up with excitement, and Karen nods encouragingly. "You can pick out a rock from the beach or the yard, and every time you feel like giving me a hug but know I might not be able to handle it, you can give me the rock instead. That way, I'll always know you're thinking of me." Chip nods eagerly, already imagining the perfect rock in his mind. "I'll find the biggest, smoothest rock," he says, his eyes shining with purpose. Plankton's antennae rise slightly, and he manages a smile. "That's my boy," he says, his voice a little less strained. “I’ll go look in our backyard right now,” Chip says as he does so. Karen watches him run off and looks at Plankton, her eyes filled with emotion. "You ok?" she asks, squeezing his hand. Plankton nods, his antennae still. "I think so," he murmurs. "Thank you, Karen." Karen squeezes his hand in return, her eyes filled with understanding. "You're doing great," she whispers. As Chip rummages outside, the sound of his little feet pattering on the ground, Karen and Plankton sit in the quiet kitchen, the weight of their conversation still hanging in the air. Plankton's antennae droop slightly, but there's a newfound openness in his gaze. "Do you think he'll understand?" Plankton asks, his voice still raw from the previous night's emotions. Karen squeezes his hand, her eyes filled with warmth. "He's a smart kid," she reassures him. "And he loves you. He'll get it." They sit in silence for a moment, listening to the distant sounds of Chip's exploration. Then, Plankton speaks up, his voice tentative. "What if I have another meltdown?" he asks. Karen squeezes his hand, her gaze unwavering. "We'll be there for you," she says. "We'll help you through it." The sound of the back door opening and closing echoes through the house, and Chip returns, holding a rock that fits perfectly in the palm of his hand. It's smooth, with a slight shimmer in the light. "Here it is!" he exclaims, holding it out to Plankton. "It's your love rock!" Plankton's antennae lift, and a genuine smile spreads across his face as he takes the rock. "It's perfect," he says, his voice filled with emotion. He can feel the warmth from Chip's hand still lingering on the stone. "Thank you, buddy." Chip beams, his earlier fears forgotten in the excitement of the moment. "Can we go to the park now?" he asks, hopeful. Karen looks at Plankton, who nods wearily. "Sure," she says, pushing her chair back. "But let's take it slow, okay?" The park is a familiar place, filled with the sounds of children's laughter and the distant hum of the city. As they walk, Chip chats away, his voice a balm to Plankton's nerves. Karen notices the subtle changes in her husband's gait, the way his antennae twitch with every new sound or sight. She knows he's trying hard to stay present, to not get overwhelmed by the sensory onslaught of the outside world. When they reach the playground, Chip runs off to the swings, his love rock clutched tightly in his hand. Plankton watches him, his gaze a mix of pride and concern. He knows his son's energy can be too much for him sometimes, but he doesn't want to miss out on these moments. Plankton takes a deep breath, his antennae wiggling as he gathers his courage. He approaches the swing set, his eye scanning the area for any potential triggers. The chains of the swings glint in the sun, and he can almost feel the sway of the seat beneath him. He hasn't swung in years, not since before Chip was born. Plankton sits on the swing by Chip. The metal is cold and hard beneath him, but as he starts to push off with his foot, the chains begin to squeak a comforting rhythm. The motion is familiar, almost soothing, reminding him of a time when the world was simpler, less stormy. He watches Chip, his heart swelling with love as his son's laughter fills the air. As they swing side by side, Plankton's antennae twitch with every movement of the breeze, every giggle that escapes Chip. The wind rushes through the playground, and he feels the rock in his pocket, a reminder of their newfound understanding. The rhythmic motion of the swing starts to work its magic, and Plankton's beginning to relax. The gentle sway feels like a lullaby for his overstimulated brain. Plankton smiles, his antennae waving in a way that says everything is ok. They swing in silence for a while, the steady back and forth a comforting metronome to the chaotic symphony of the playground around them. Plankton can feel the tension in his body slowly uncoiling, the squeak of the chains becoming a familiar melody that soothes his frazzled nerves.

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS xii (Autistic Author) The tree above them provides a gentle canopy, casting dappled shadows on Plankton's sleeping form. The leaves rustle in the breeze, creating a natural lullaby that soothes not only him but Chip and Karen as well. The world outside the shade seems to melt away, leaving them in a quiet cocoon of peace. Karen watches her son with a mix of admiration and sadness. He's growing up so fast, she thinks, having to learn about things most kids his age don't have to. But Chip's strength is undeniable, and she knows that together, they'll navigate the storms that come with Plankton's condition. The park's cacophony slowly starts to fade into the background, replaced by the rhythmic sound of Plankton's deep, even breathing. Chip sits next to him, the love rock still in his hand, his thumb tracing the smooth surface. The shadows from the tree above dance across their faces, creating a mesmerizing pattern of light and dark that seems to mirror the complexities of their lives. Karen pulls out a small blanket from their bag and covers Plankton gently, tucking it around his small body. She looks at Chip, her eyes filled with a mix of love and sadness. "Why don't you sit with him for a bit?" she suggests. "I'll grab the car." Chip nods solemnly, taking a seat beside his father. He places the love rock in Plankton's palm, curling his slender fingers around it. The park's sounds seem to fade away as he focuses on Plankton's peaceful face, the only indication of life the steady rise and fall of his chest. Chip's eyes drift over to the swings, now silent, the chains still swaying slightly from their earlier use. While Karen walks to get the car, Chip sits in quiet contemplation, feeling the weight of their conversation from the night before. He's learned so much about his dad, about the storms in his brain that make him different. But instead of fear, Chip feels a newfound respect and love, a bond stronger than any storm could break. Plankton's eye flutter open, the sleepy confusion fading as he sees Chip sitting beside him, the love rock still clutched in his hand. He looks around, the park coming back into focus. His antennae twitch slightly, searching for the source of comfort. "Hey, buddy," Plankton says, his voice groggy. "What happened?" Chip's eyes light up, his grip on the rock tightening. "You had a seizure," he explains, his voice steady. "But you're ok now. We're just waiting for Mom to bring the car." Plankton nods, his gaze drifting to the rock. He opens his palm, revealing the smooth, shimmering stone. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. Chip looks up, his eyes meeting Plankton's. "It's our love rock," he says simply, his voice filled with the weight of their new understanding. Plankton's antennae twitch, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I remember," he says, his voice a little stronger. "It's a good rock." The two sit in companionable silence, the rock a tangible symbol of their bond. The park's sounds slowly filter back in, the laughter of children, the squeak of the swings, the distant bark of a seagull. Life goes on around them, but in this moment, their world is small and focused. As Karen pulls up with the car, she sees them sitting under the tree, the love rock in Plankton's hand. She parks and walks over, her eyes filled with concern. "Ready to go home?" she asks gently. Plankton nods, his antennae rising slightly. "Yeah," he says, his voice still shaky. "Let's go." They carefully help him into the car, the love rock still nestled in his hand. The drive home is quiet, the weight of the day's events hanging heavy in the air. Chip watches his dad, his heart aching for the silent struggle he knows he's facing. As they pull into the driveway, Karen looks back in the rearview mirror. "Remember, Chip," she says, her eyes meeting her son's in the reflection, "today was a learning experience. We all need to be patient with each other." Chip nods solemnly, his gaze never leaving Plankton's face. He sees the exhaustion etched into his father's features, the quiet strength that hides beneath the storm. "I know," he whispers, his voice filled with understanding beyond his years. The house is a welcome retreat from the overwhelming sensory assault of the park. Inside, everything is familiar and comforting, a bastion of predictability in a world that often seems too loud and too bright for Plankton. Karen helps Plankton into bed, tucking him in with the care of a lighthouse keeper guiding a ship to safety. Chip sits on the edge of the bed, holding the love rock out to Plankton. "Do you still want this?" he asks, his voice tentative. Plankton's hand reaches out, his eyes never leaving the rock. He takes it, his grip firm. "Yeah," he says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "It's comforting." Karen gives them both a soft smile before leaving the room, closing the door gently behind her. The room is filled with the hum of the fish tank, the calming blue light casting a soothing glow. Chip sits with his father, the love rock nestled in Plankton's hand, a silent sentinel of their bond. For a moment, they just breathe together. Then, Chip decides to speak. "Daddy," he says, his voice gentle and soothing, "I'm here for you. No matter what happens, ok?" Plankton's eye flicker with understanding, and he squeezes the rock in his hand. "Thank you, Chip," he murmurs, his voice filled with more emotion than Chip has ever heard from him. "I'm lucky to have you." The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, as Chip nods, his own eyes brimming with tears. He leans in to offer Plankton his hand to hold. Plankton takes it, his grip firm, his eye searching Chip's for reassurance. The love rock remains a silent witness to their conversation, a physical representation of the unspoken affection that flows between them. Slowly, Plankton's eye grow heavy, the lid drooping as sleep claims him once more. His hand relaxes around Chip's, the rock still cradled in his other palm. Chip watches his father's chest rise and fall with each deep, even breath, the storm of the day finally abating. Eventually, Plankton's eye opens, a glimmer of understanding piercing the tempest. His antennae still, his body going rigid with the effort of speaking. He draws in a deep breath, his eye locking onto Chip's and also Karen’s, the love rock a bridge between them. "Lo..." he manages to murmur, the word a tremor in the quiet room. Karen's eyes widen, her heart skipping a beat. "Lo..." he tries again, the syllable a whisper of hope. The room feels like it's expanding, the walls stretching with the weight of his effort. "Lo...ve," he finally says, the word a shaky but clear declaration. The air shimmers with the power of the spoken word, the love rock in Chip's hand feeling like it's vibrating with joy. Karen's eyes overflow with tears as she squeezes Plankton's hand, her voice choking with emotion. "Oh, honey," she says, her voice a gentle caress, "we know." Chip's own eyes sparkle with unshed tears, his voice trembling as he speaks. "We love you too, Daddy." "Lo...love," he manages to repeat, the word a treasure pulled from the depths of his mind. Chip feels a tear slide down his cheek, the love rock in his hand a warm emblem of victory. "You don't have to say it, Daddy," Chip says, his voice shaky but earnest. "We know." But Plankton's eye determined, the word 'love' a beacon he needs to reach. With a Herculean effort, he whispers, "Chip...Karen...love...you." The room is suffused with a warmth that feels like a sunrise, the shadows retreating to the corners. Karen stands with love for her family. She knows that this is just the beginning of their journey, that there will be more storms to weather. But with Chip by his side, she feels a glimmer of hope that Plankton's world will be a little less overwhelming.

🥖👠- 𓆩♡𓆪 -🍬🎧

🔵 The first man to drown during the building of the Hoover was J.G. Tierney, on December 20, 1922. The final man to during the project was Patrick W. Tierney, his son, in 1935 - - also on December 20. 🔵

Losing Carrie Carrie’s parents were deep in mourning They had lost their daughter, without warning Her mom moaned and wailed in deep sorrow Her dad would call the funeral home tomorrow Her mom looked down and in her head She wondered, if Carrie could, what she would have said If she could speak to them now, reach into their hearts Tell them how they would cope, where could they start? Her father looked down also and in his head His mind was racing with a sense of dread See, if Carrie could talk what she really would have said Is, ‘Mom, please help me, he knows I’m not dead.’

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꣑୧ㅤ ִㅤOO1ㅤ⸝⸝ㅤO6O32O24 ㅤㅤㅤ╰ㅤdo you guys know more ppl here who post cool stuff yk ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤthe cool ppl that post cool symbols with cool users if ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤyes plz drop it here tysm

꒰ˆ⌯ ·̫ ⌯ก̀ˆ꒱ ( ᐡ. ̫ .ᐡ ) (◌´ ˘ `ς) ε( ε ´O`)э。゜ (՞っ ‹՞) ꒰ 𖦹´   ᩙᩙ `𖦹 ᐡ꒱ (ˆ꜆ . ̫ . ).ᐟ (ᐡ ′̥̥̥ ˙̫ ‵̥̥̥ ᐡ) ૮(*´. . ) search ' pwnkic ' for more 𓈒

_ _ **someone joined us .ᐟ** ╰ hai {user} :emote: ﹒⁀ :emote: welcome darling ♡ credits: @Milk on discord (gutlute)

okay we get it about the beef on this website, but at least add some cute symbols at da end! (<ゝω·)☆ okay here’s some symbols 4 u cuties! ⑅ ྀི ︶ᤳ◟ ͜-͜- ཐི♡ཋྀ -͜ ׁ ⏜͜ ۪ ݁ ⑅ ྀི ︶ᤳ CUTE BIO(S) FOR YOU CUTIE :3 ♡ 𝓈𝓉ʳᵃ᭙ᵇᥱʳʳʸ 𝓈ʰᵒʳ𝓉ᶜᵃᵏᥱ ͜ ׁ ྀི꒰ ͜ ◞𝜗 ͜ . ͜͜͡ ͜͡ ͜͜͡ ◞ ͜ ˳ ׄ 𝒞◟ ͜꒱ ྀི _ _ 𝜗ྀྀྀ ܸ ͡ ⏝︶ྀ𝜚 ♡ 𝓈᭙ᥱᥱ𝓉ᥱ𝓈𝓉 (name) ͜ ׁ ྀི　꒰ (initals of ur friends) 𓈒ᐟ ꒱ ♪ྀྀི _ _ 𝜗ྀྀྀ ܸ ͡ ⏝︶ྀ𝜚 _ _ ू (emoji) . ︶ ︶ ‎ 𓊆ྀི 𝓈᭙ᥱᥱ𝓉ᥱ𝓈𝓉 (name) ͜ ׁ ◌ ִ ֹ (e) ָ֢ ֹ ִ 丽 **n*am**e** ◯◌　 ♪　 (˘⤙˘ ◍)　 (e)　 ᵎ ୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀***age*** ,, *g*ender/*g*ender (emoji)𖨂 MADE/FOUND BY kittypawedchloe, MAKING MORE :3 REMEMBER TO BE DA BEST VERSION OF YOURSELF N STAY HYDRATED ANGELS! SEARCH “kittypawedchloe” FOR MORE :3

────⋆⋅ᡣ𐭩⋅⋆──── @{ur name} | (age {optional} (or your editing app) 𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗼𝗿 ⤿ {your tiktok/socials) 𝗼𝗻 {the social media name} ☆ ୭˚. ᵎᵎ 𝗳𝗮𝘃 𝗽𝗽𝗹 !! .. ; (the initials)

𐙚🎀🪞🩰🦢🕯️༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆₊˚⊹ ᰔ⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡୨୧౨ৎ✮⋆˙‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡🎀 ₊ ⊹ ~⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚౨ৎ ⋆｡˚𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒⊹ ࣪ ˖𓇼🐚☾☼🦪⊹.˚🪞🕯️♡⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★🐻ིྀ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀୨ৎ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ೀ⊹˚. ♡⋆° 𐙚 ₊⋆𖦹 ⋆｡✩ᝰ.ᐟ≽^•⩊•^≼🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･๋࣭ ⭑ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁₊˚⊹ᰔ˙✧˖° 🫧 ⋆｡˚꩜๋࣭ ⭑⚝໒꒰ྀི´• ˕ •` ꒱ྀིა.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ ༝༚༝༚⊹˚. ౨ৎ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀᥫ᭡౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ֶָ֢ৎ୭𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 🐇 ／ ⋆ ۪🍓🍰💌🧸˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆♡ྀི‹𝟹.ᐟજ⁀➴♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧𓇢𓆸𓍯𔓘°🌷͙୭˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡⋆⭒˚｡⋆₊˚⊹♡✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆꩜⋆˚🐾˖°⋆.˚𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ ☆༘⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆ✧˖°.˚˖𓍢🌷✧˚.🎀⋆─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──˙ ✩°˖🫐 ⋆｡˚꩜ִ ࣪𖤐🧸ྀི★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡ ˚𔘓˚ʚ♡ɞ˚｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ🌷🧺*:･૮₍´˶• . • ⑅ ₎ა𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ᰔᩚ•ﻌ•˚୨୧⋆｡ཐིཋྀᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁༘⋆₊ ⊹⊹₊ ⋆ 𐙚 ☃︎૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა୧ ‧₊˚ 🎐 ⋅˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა༉‧₊˚.☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡♡⸝⸝ᥫ᭡.𝄞₊ ⊹ ೀ⟡*ੈ𑁍༘⋆୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀<𝟑˚｡⋆୨୧˚𐦍༘⋆𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧♡₊˚ 🦢・₊ ♪ ✧⋆˚✿˖°໒ྀི˙ᵕ˙⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🍓୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⟢૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა⛲🪞🦢૮₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𖧷𝐢𝐧𝐠ᰔᩚ˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚๋࣭⭑‎♡‧₊˚☕🧣🧺🧸🪞🕊️🎧🎀🌷₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎₊˚ෆ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆꒰ঌ ໒꒱⋅˚₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅౨ৎ。°˖ ʚ🍓ɞ ꒦꒷⩩୧ ‧₊˚ 𓍢ִ໋🎐 ˚ ༘ミ・◦・ミ🎀✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚𖦹ׂ 𓈒 🐇 ／ ⋆ ۪૮ • ﻌ - ა⁩*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა rawr!୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅⋆⑅˚₊🦢ꕤ

hey guys if you want a discord hangout server i created one 🎀 link: https://discord.gg/tArdczua // REPOST THIS TOO GET THIS MSG AROUND!!

stream cosmic by red velvet ☆

Hii! I'm Aaliyah, I'm trying to make a group on here called Site Cleaners. Use tags that aren't for drama and stuff, we can try to create our own tag called Site cleaners. °𓇼🌊⋆🐚 - -> The difference is our post will have the message above but then will end with an emoji combo, discord bio, or anything of sorts. - - > If you want to join us, just copy this message and spread this around. How to clean the site: - Downvote all posts unrelated to emoji combos like the ones talking about h0rny people, their are minors on here and stuff like that. - Make sure you thoroughly review the site so it can be clean. - Try to become our own moderators!! Emoji Combo: 🌟✨🕯 We mean no harm to this emoji combo site. I love this site. - Aaliyah, Owner of site cleaners.˖

**{name’s} bio ᵎᵎ** 𓍯𓂃 *{age} ✈︎ {ur editing app} 𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗼𝗿 ✧* 𝗺𝘆 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻'𝘀 - ***{their initials}*** ⋆˚✿˖°♛☯♡ ̆̈

reminder that theres no “place to talk about war/genocide” because it effects everyone if you even care about the lives of people being massacred for zero reason and regard for humanity!! dont say you advocate for those places being genocided if you can’t come face to face with their reality EVERY DAY in your little privileged bubble (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ and its okay to not want to see it all the time! just scroll or use tags!! its not that hard, yet yall make it so easy to point out zionists/racists <3 >ᴗ<

Mʏ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴀsɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴛᴇʀʀɪʙʟᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ I ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴʟʏ ᴘʀᴇғᴇʀʀᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ. Tʜᴏᴜɢʜ, ɪɴ ʜɪɴᴅsɪɢʜᴛ, I ᴍᴀʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ sɪᴍᴘʟʏ ᴏᴠᴇʀᴄᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ..

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

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

💋💕🩰💌🍒☁️🌸

Gᴏᴛ ᴀ sɴᴀᴋᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ sᴛᴏᴍᴘᴇᴅ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴇʟ ᴏғ ʜɪs ʙᴏᴏᴛ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ɪᴛ. Lᴀᴛᴇʀ ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ʜᴇ ɢᴀᴠᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʜᴏsᴛ, ᴀs ʜɪs ʙᴇғᴜᴅᴅʟᴇᴅ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ʀᴀᴄᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ Pᴀ. "Sᴏɴ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʟᴅ ʙᴏᴏᴛs. Hᴇ ᴅɪᴇᴅ ɪɴ 'ᴇᴍ, ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴏғ ғᴀᴄᴛ. Wᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ʜɪᴍ ᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. Wᴇʟʟ, I ʀᴇᴄᴋᴏɴ ʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. Hᴇʀᴇ—" Mᴀ, ᴡɪᴘɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴛᴇᴀʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜᴇʀ sᴇᴀᴍᴇᴅ ᴏʟᴅ ᴄʜᴇᴇᴋ, ʜᴀɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪʀ ᴏғ ʙᴏᴏᴛs ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴀs ᴀɴ ʜᴇɪʀʟᴏᴏᴍ. Hᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ɴᴏᴛ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜᴇɴᴄᴇ ʜᴇ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴍʏsᴛᴇʀɪᴏᴜs sʜᴀᴅᴇ. Dʀᴇssɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ, ʜɪs ɴᴇᴡʟʏ ᴡɪᴅᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴡɪғᴇ ʜᴜɢɢᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ sᴏɴ. "Bᴏʏ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢʀᴀɴᴅғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅɪᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴛs ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅɪᴅ. Tᴀᴋᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴇ..." Oғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴏʀ ʙᴏʏ ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ ᴍᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ ғᴀᴛᴇ. Hɪs ᴡɪғᴇ ʜᴇʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴛs. Lᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʟʏ, sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴇʏᴇ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ғᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏᴏᴛʜ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ sɴᴀᴋᴇ, sᴛɪʟʟ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴠᴇɴᴏᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏɪsᴏɴ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs. Lᴏᴅɢᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴍʙᴇᴅᴅᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴛs.

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.

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 “sculpture” with a liquid as he whispered "You will always be my little sculpture." as I watched the “sculpture's” hands twitch.

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?

💋

_(xз」∠)_

∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

..._...|..____________________, , ....../ `---___________----_____|] = = = = = D ...../_==o;;;;;;;;_______.:/ .....), ---.(_(__) / ....// (..) ), ----" ...//___// ..//___// .//___// ιf уσυ ωσυℓ∂ נυмρ ιи fяσит σf α вυℓℓєт fσя уσυя gιяℓfяιєи∂, вσуfяιєи∂, єχ-gιяℓfяιєи∂, єχ-вσуfяιєи∂, вєѕт fяιєи∂, fαмιℓу мємвєя, σя נυѕт α ρєяѕσи уσυ ℓσνє, яє ρσѕт тнιѕ σитσ уσυя ραgє!

༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻ LOVING MEMORY ༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻

July 27th, 2010, 3:46 AM Today, my boyfriend came over and met my parents. Then he left, and my Dad told me that my boyfriend loved me. I smiled and asked, “How do you know?” He said, “Because he looks at you the same way I look at your Mother.” Love GMH

╰ㅤ ㅤ ۫ ✦ㅤ ㅤ text !!⠀ ⠀ ◠ ᶻᶻ ㅤ mbti ꜝꜝㅤ ⸺ㅤ prn , prn ִ ★ search sealfluid for more!!

‘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 “before their time” 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...

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

=(:з」∠)_

i just shit my pants💘

"Tʜᴇ sᴘɪᴅᴇʀs ᴡᴏʀᴋᴇᴅ ᴏ̨ᴜɪᴄᴋʟʏ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀᴀᴘ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴘʀᴇʏ ᴛɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ɪɴ sɪʟᴋ. Tʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴ's ᴍᴜғғʟᴇᴅ sᴄʀᴇᴀᴍs ɢʀᴇᴡ ғᴀɪɴᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ɴᴇᴡ ʟᴀʏᴇʀ." —ᴘᴀʀᴛ_ᴛɪᴍᴇ_ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀ

Jan 1, 2011 9:47 PM Mom <Your great aunt just passed away. LOL Why is that funny?> <It's not funny! Wht do you mean? Mom lol means laughing out loud!> <Oh goodness!! I sent that to everyone I thought it meant lots of love.

i turned to the guy who k1lled my wife ✨ He cried so desperately, scared for what was to come. If only he had talked to me and tried to reason, maybe I could have spared him. But that was impossible. After all, he was born just a few moments ago...

r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 hr. ago villianrules After taking the ancestry test I discovered that I was related to a serial killer. It makes me so proud of continuing the legacy.

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

http://www.celticcousins.net/scott/stmaryscem.htm

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

July 1974, Neville Ebbin was knocked off his small motorcycle and killed by a taxi in Hamilton, Bermuda.⠀ 🚩⠀ One year later in July 1975, his brother, Erskine Lawrence Ebbin was knocked off the same motorcycle by the same taxi with the same driver, carrying the same passenger, on the same street that had killed his brother, Neville.⠀ ⠀ Both brothers were 17 when they died.

_(:3」∠)_

_(°:з」∠)_

People may like horror for many different reasons. Personification of non-human's, perspective, etc. There's some considerate guidelines to take in-to account. Of course, horror's meant to be scary, but not to frightening as to cause panic attack. Trigger warnings may give away the ending or some plot twist. Here are some tips: ~Profanity. Can say like 'oh dear' or something. ~Gore, avoiding unnecessary graphic detail. ~Animals. Can be something like 'the dog growls at presence of ghost' ~Self harm, etc. You can, however, have a character sacrifice oneself. ~Abuse (like exploitation, arranged marriage) although you can imply abduct, poison, etc. ~Stereotyping groups (portraying certain authorities, religions, cultures, etc. as disrespectful) You can use (with discretion) controversial topics (execution, foeticide, the double effect, etc.) lightly. You can mention potential topics (cannibal, baby death, poisons, apocalypse, etc.) in story insofar as it partains to the plot, but no glorifying trauma. You can have the narrator be the villain, victim, or bystander. Have fun writing, and heed your emotions!

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS v (Autistic Author) Karen watches the exchange, her heart heavy with the weight of their conversation. "Plankton," she says gently. "What can Chip do to help you?" "Just be patient," he says. "And maybe don't touch me to much." Chip's eyes widen at the admission, and he nods solemnly. "Okay," he says. "But what if you don't look okay?" Plankton's antennae twitch in what Karen recognizes as a sign of discomfort, but he answers. "Inform Karen, I mean uh ‘Mommy’, but just wait for me to come back I guess," he says. "Don't call panicked attention to it." Chip nods, his eyes searching Plankton's face. "But what if you fall down or something?" Plankton's antennae wave slightly. "Well, if that happens," he says, his voice gruff but gentle, "you can offer to help me up, yet also same thing. But then just remember to give me some space, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "I will, Dad," he says, voice earnest. Karen feels a knot in her throat, watching the two of them. Plankton's vulnerability is a rare sight, but she knows it's a step in the right direction. She decides to push the conversation a bit further. "Chip," she says softly. "Do you have any more questions?" Chip looks at Plankton, his eyes searching. "Why’d you get so mad when asking you questions?" Plankton's antennae twitch again, a hint of frustration in his eye. "It's just... it's hard to explain," he says, his voice tight. "I know you're trying to help, but sometimes it feels like you're poking at a sore spot." Chip's expression falls, his lower lip trembling. "But I didn't mean to hurt you, Dad," he says, his voice a whisper. Plankton sighs, his antennae dropping to his side. "I know you didn't," he says, his voice softer. "It's just that sometimes, when people ask questions about it, it feels like they're not accepting me the way I am." Karen's heart breaks a little at her husband's words, but she knows this is a breakthrough. "Chip," she says, her voice gentle. "What Daddy's trying to say is that sometimes, it's hard for him to talk about." Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton. "But you're still my dad," he says, his voice firm. "I'll always love you, no matter what." Plankton's antennae twitch as he nods and for a moment, Karen sees a flicker of emotion in his eye. The room is silent, the air thick with unspoken words. Karen's heart is racing, knowing this is a pivotal moment. Plankton has always struggled with expressing his emotions, especially with their son. The words "I love you" are as foreign to him as the surface world. "I know you do, buddy," Plankton says, his voice gruff. He clears his throat, looking down at the rock on the coffee table. "But for me, it's not always easy to say those words." He looks up at Chip, his eye filled with something Karen can't quite place—pain, perhaps, or regret. "But just because I don't say it, doesn't mean I don't feel it, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his dad's face. "But why can't you say it?" he asks, his voice small. Plankton's antennae droop, and he looks away, his eye avoiding contact with both Karen and Chip. "I just want to make sure you know that I love you," Chip says, his voice a mix of hope and desperation. "Isn't that what families do?" The room seems to shrink around them, the air charged with anticipation. Plankton's antennae shoot straight up, and his eye narrows into a glare. Karen can almost see the cogs turning in his mind, the struggle to find the right words. "Why do you keep asking?" Plankton snaps, his voice sharp as a knife. Chip flinches, but Karen squeezes his hand, giving him the courage to keep asking. "I just want to understand," Chip whispers. Plankton's eye flashes with irritation. "Why does it matter so much?" he snaps, his antennae quivering. "Why do you have to know everything?" Chip shrinks back, his voice trembling. "Because I don't want you to be sad," he says, his eyes brimming with tears. Plankton processes Chip's words. His antennae quiver, his eye flitting between his son and Karen, who's watching with a silent plea for patience. "Why do you keep asking?" Plankton repeats, his voice rising slightly. "What's so important about me saying it?" Karen's eyes are filled with a silent apology as she sees the confusion and hurt on Chip's face. She knows Plankton's words are a defense mechanism, a way to keep his own fears at bay. But she also knows how much their son needs to hear those words. "Plankton," she says gently, her voice a soft reminder of the love in the room. "Chip just wants to understand." Plankton sighs, his antennae dropping in defeat. "I know," he murmurs. "I just... I don't know how to explain it so he gets it." Karen nods, her heart aching for both her son and her husband. "Chip," she says, her voice soft. "Daddy's trying, okay?" But Chip's eyes are on Plankton, searching for answers that Plankton seems unwilling to give. Plankton's antennae are a blur of movement, his frustration palpable in the air. "I don't know how to explain it so you'll get it!" he snaps, his voice echoing off the walls. Chip's eyes widen, and he withdraws further into himself, clutching the rock tightly. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice shaking. Karen's grip on Plankton's hand tightens, a silent plea for calm. "Plankton," she says gently, "you don't have to explain everything right now. We just want to help." But Plankton's antennae are a blur of agitation, his eye darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "I don't know what you want from me," he says, his voice tight. "I'm trying to be honest, but it feels like no matter what I say, it's not enough." Karen can see the frustration in her husband's movements, his antennae waving erratically. "You don't have to have all the answers right now," she soothes, her voice a gentle reminder of the love in the room. Plankton's eye narrows, his antennae stiff with tension. "But Chip expects me to," he murmurs, his voice filled with a hint of accusation. "You want me to just lay it all out, like it's simple." Karen can feel the frustration rolling off of him, and she knows that pushing him further won't help. "I know it's hard," she says, her voice soothing. "But we can take it slow, okay?" Plankton's antennae quiver, and he nods, his eye still narrowed in irritation. "Fine," he grumbles. "But don't expect me to be good at it." The tension in the room is thick, but Karen refuses to let it linger. She takes a deep breath, her eyes on Chip. "Why don't we start by talking about what happened today?" she suggests, her voice calm and even. Plankton's antennae twitch, and he nods, his eye flicking to Chip before looking away again. "Ok," he says, his voice tight. "Do you remember what happened at the park today?" Karen asks, keeping her voice gentle and steady. Plankton's antennae twitch, and he nods stiffly. "Yes," he says, his voice tight. "I had one of my... moments." Chip looks at him, his eyes wide with concern. "Is it okay with Dad…" "I'm right here, buddy," Plankton interrupts, his antennae still, his eye fixed on the floor. "And I'm okay." But Chip isn't convinced. "But you weren't okay at the park," he says, his voice quivering. "You were scared I think.." Plankton's antennae shoot up in frustration. "I was not scared!" he snaps, his voice echoing through the room. "It's just... it's hard to explain!" Karen's heart squeezes, watching her husband's distress, but she knows they need to keep the conversation going. "Chip," she says gently, "why don't you tell us what you felt when you saw Daddy's moment?" Chip looks at Karen, his eyes glistening. "I was scared," he admits, his voice shaky. "I didn't know what to do, and everyone was looking." Plankton's antennae droop, his eye flicking to the floor. He's visibly upset, and Karen can see the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "I just want to know," Chip says, his voice trembling, "I wanna know why you…" But before he can finish, Plankton's antennae shoot up in anger, his eye flashing with a fury. "Why do you keep poking at me like that?" he yells, his voice echoing through the room. "Can't you just leave me alone?" Chip's eyes fill with tears, and he jumps back, his small body trembling. Karen's heart sinks as she sees the fear in her son's eyes, and she knows that Plankton's outburst isn't helping. "Plankton," she says firmly, her voice cutting through the tension.

July 1996 . Twins can be conjoined at the: Abdomen (omphalopagus). Chest (thoracopagus). Top of head down to the belly button, facing each other (cephalopagus). Head only (craniopagus). Pelvis, facing each other (ischiopagus). Pelvis, side-to-side (parapagus). Rump-to-rump (pygopagus). Vertebral column (rachipagus). Generally, parapagus are conjoined at the upper chest. Parapagus, united laterally, always share a conjoined pelvis with one or two sacrums and one symphysis pubis. Dithoracic parapagus is when the two chests are separated, and the fusion is confined to the pelvis and abdomen. Dicephalic parapagus is if there is the union of the entire trunk but not the heads. The heart, liver, and diaphragm are fused, but there is a duplication of the respiratory tract and upper digestive tract; the viscera organs are fused. There are two arms, two legs, and two complete vertebral column and spinal cord. The number of limbs varies from 4 to 7, rarely with four legs. Generally, each lung is present in a separate lung cavity. The fusion of lungs is very rare. The alignment of the conjoined pelvis is diagnostic-one complete pelvic ring, with a single anterior pubic symphysis, and with two laterally fused sacral bones, and predominantly only one rectum. Ischiopagi are united ventrally extending from the umbilicus down to a sizeable conjoined pelvis with two symphyses pubis and two sacrum. Craniopagus can be united at any portion of the skull except at the face and the foramen magnum. Pygopagus varieties are joined dorsally; sharing the sacrococcygeal and perineal regions, sometimes even involving the spinal cord. Rachipagus twins are united dorsally above the sacrum. The union may also include the occiput. The cephalopagus varients are fused from the umbilicus to the top of the head. The pelvis and lower abdomen are usually not fused. Thoracopagus are united face-to-face from the upper thorax down till the umbilicus. Omphalopagus are primarily United at the umbilical region aligned face to face. The pelvis is not united. The pure parapagus is two heads, two hands, two legs, two hearts and two pairs of lungs. Conjoined twins are classified on the basis of the union's site, with the suffix pagus meaning fixed or fastened. The twins can have four (tetrapus), three (tripus), or two (bipus) legs. Cephalopagus: The twins often have a fused thorax in addition to a fused head. The single fused head may have two faces (janiceps) Cephalothoracopagus twinning is characterized by the anterior union of the upper half of the body, with two faces angulated variably on a conjoined head. The anomaly is occasionally known as janiceps, named after the two-faced Roman god Janus. The prognosis is extremely poor because surgical separation is not an option, in that only a single brain and a single heart are present and the gastrointestinal (GI) tracts are fused. Craniopagus: The conjoined twins share the skull, meninges, and venous sinuses Ischiopagus: The twins may lie face to face or end to end Pygopagus: The twins are joined dorsally, sharing the sacrococcygeal and perineal regions Rachipagus: The twins generally have vertebral anomalies and neural tube defects. Thoracopagus: The twins lie face to face and share the sternum, diaphragm, upper abdomen wall, and liver and have an exomphalos

22 years ago, a 16 year old girl was pregnant with a baby. Understanding the circumstances, her parents told her to abort or be disowned. Her best friend - her 18 year old neighbour - although he was not the father, stepped into the father figures shoes. They got married 2 years later. Mom and Dad, your love for me, and for each other, GMH. Dec 1st, 2014

r/TwoSentenceHorror 13 hr. ago drforged ↓ “Have you ever seen a monster?” My son asked, as I tucked him in “No” I answered, as I looked into his many yellow eyes...

Rowlie from on BoredPanda.com ↓ ↓ It's freezing and dark, the constant movement is making me nauseous, everything hurts, I'm lonely and scared I wish I didnt' ask for my ashes to be spread into the ocean...

Terms for the Mvrder of Loved Ones Amicicide: of one’s friend (amicus - friend) Avunculicide: of one’s uncle (avunculus - maternal uncle) Familicide: of one’s family (spouse and children) (familia - family) Filicide: of one’s daughter or son (filia - daughter; filius - son) Fratricide: of one’s brother (or sibling) (frater - brother; fratrem - sibling) Mariticide: of one’s husband (or spouse) (maritus - husband, spouse) Matricide: of one’s mother (mater - mother) Neonaticide: of one’s newborn child (neo - new; natus - born) Patricide: of one’s father (pater - father) Prolicide: of one’s offspring (proles - offspring) Senicide: of one’s elder (senes - elderly; senex - old man) Sororicide: of one’s sister (soror - sister) Uxoricide: of one’s wife (uxor - wife, spouse) Amiticide: of one’s aunt (amita - paternal aunt) Aniclicide: of one’s female elder (anicla - old woman) Avicide: of one’s grandparent (avia - grandmother; avus - grandfather) Conjicide: of one’s spouse (conjux, coniux - spouse, husband, wife) Nepticide: of one’s niece (nepti - niece)

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.

https://emojicombos.com/read-before-doing-horror https://emojicombos.com/how-to-write-horror

-August 19, 2017 What seeing red looks like. EVERYONE LOVES THE FIRST DAY OF A NEW JOB, RIGHT? NEW COLLEAGUES, NEW FRIENDS. IT’S A DAY FULL OF POTENTIAL AND HOPE, BEFORE ALL THE DREARY DEPRESSIONS OF REALITY SHOW UP TO RUIN ALL THE FUN. I LIKE THE FIRST DAY OF WORK FOR A DIFFERENT REASON THOUGH. YOU SEE, I HAVE A SORT OF POWER. WHEN I LOOK A COLORED 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, LIVING TO OLD AGE. A FAIR AMOUNT OF THEM HAVE A PEACH TINGE TO THEIR AURA WHICH TENDS TO MEAN A CANCER OR DEPRESSION. ANYTHING THAT TAKES PEOPLE“BEFORE THEIR TIME” 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 THROBBING FADE. IT’S SUCH A RUSH TO SEE THEM AND KNOW THEIR TIME IS NUMBERED. WITH THAT IN MIND, I ALWAYS GET TO WORK VERY EARLY SO I CAN SCOUT OUT MY COLLEAGUES’ FATES. THE FIRST MAN WHO WALKED IN WAS BASICALLY RADIATING RED. TOO BAD, BRO. BUT AS PEOPLE KEPT WALKING IN, THEY ALL HAD THE SAME RAPIDLY FADING COLOR. I FINALLY CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF MY OWN REFLECTION, SUDDENLY PLUMMETING TO A RED LIKE THE OTHERS. OUR BOSS STEPPED IN SMILING AND LOCKED THE DOOR, HIS AURA A SICKENING SHADE OF GREEN... ZENRYHAO

r/TwoSentenceHorror 11 hr. ago SkullStar “I only want two kids; no more, no less”, my husband reassured me as I smiled. The twins went inside the house and as my husband's pregnant mistress crossed the street, my foot pressed on the gas pedal.

✈ ▌▌ ¦҉▌▌ ▄ .

I was at my friends house, whose 5yr old little brother died very recently due to a fire. He lived with his aunt and uncle. At dinner, his 4yr old cousin blessed the meal. "Dear God, thank you for this meal. And I know your keeping Brenden safe. Never stop playing with him. Amen." Little kids GMH Mar 23, 2011 at 11:30pm by Carly, AR

Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 13 hr. ago Classic-Dog8399 ˢᶜʳᵒˡˡ ᵖˡˢ ⬇️ When I picked up my daughter from the mental institution, something was off about her. It was not just the feeling in my soul, but the stitches across her forehead.

ヾ(:3ﾉｼヾ)ﾉｼ

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^᪲　  ིྀྀ　   ౨ৎ   ꣑𓍢 　  ❜୧　  ୨୧ 　  𐙚᭄ 　   ^᪲᪲᪲　  ೀ　  ೨౿   ᠀𓏲　  ϑ𐑞 　 ꣑୧　  ︶ིྀᩧ 　  𐙚　  ೇ　  𑁥౿　 ꢾ𓍢ִ໋　  𐒘𝛠　  ϑℓ　  ၄၃ 　　 ꔫ　  ^ྀི᪲　   ୭ৎ　 𝝑𓏲 　 𝝑𝝔　  𝝑𝑒　   ⪩⪨ 　  ᤣ९　 ◌⃘ꔫ　  ໑᱖　 ୨𓏲̼　 𝟅𝟈　  𝝑୧　   　　 𓍼　  ੭̲᱖　  ꪆৎ　 𑁥𓍢　  𝞋𝞎 　 𝜗𝜚　   ၇⃪⃖ꪆ୧ search ' pwnkic ' for more

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ʚ 🐳 • ₊˚✧ . ・ 💙；hey stalker ! ﹒ zᶻ 🌌 [prns]┆ [mbti]┆[zodiac]┆ ılıl 🎣 🚎 • ₊˚ <> [extra info] ☆ ₊ 📘 🐬・[carrd]｜🌊 ₊˚ʚ 🧢 ₊ ✧ ﾟ. ᴄʀᴇᴅs: ᴄʟᴀɪʀᴇ/sʜᴇʟᴛɪᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴏᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴏɴᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜsᴇ ɪᴛ. ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴀ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs sᴜʙᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʙᴛᴡ.

🎀💗୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

˚ㅤ🫀 𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽 🩰 ˚𐚁̸ 𓈒 ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤㅤ ꕮ ㅤ۫ㅤ 🪜 ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤᘞ ˚

∠( ᐛ 」∠)∟

I see the death of everyone I meet. (Written by JJX2525, from Reddit) SHARED JUN 05 I see the death of everyone I meet. Once, when I was in kindergarten, I got booted out of class for telling the new girl Abigail that she smelt bad̳. I remember it vividly – a bloody-burny-boozy smell that hit me the moment she came in. Abigail burst into tears and I got a stern lecture on telling lıes. But it wasn’t a lie. My little nose had leapt forward ten years into the future, where a teenage Abigail would drunkenly plough her parent’s Mitsubishi straight into the front of an oncoming bus. When we met again in middle school I smelt it a second time, along with the song she’d be playing on the radio – five seconds of a generic disco beat. The last thing she’d hear. I know it’s bad҉ to say, but I think there’s something sacred about it. There’s nothing more personal then someone’s last̀ moments of lífe. I try not to take it for granted. It’s hard, sometimes, though, especially once I got older and better at it. Along with smells came sounds, sights, and even feelings, though that last one was rare. In this day and age most people go to their dEath with pastel colours and blinking machines and a faint whiff of hand sanitizer, their brains too fizzled to know what’s about to happen. There are exceptions. Like Abigail, or my middle school gym teacher, who was going to dıe with a deafening bang in a rush of mad courage. I couldn’t hear a word of his opening lecture because my ears were still ringing. Suıcıde will do that to you. Have I ever told anyone? Of course not. Can you imagine? Even if they did believe me, which I doubt, it wouldn’t be long before curiosity got the better of them. They’d want to know what I saw in them. Which is fine for the heart attacks and the quietly-in-their-sleeps, but what do you say to a m√rder? And no you can’t change it, don’t ask me because I already tried, I already tried and you can’t beat the system. You just can’t. I already lost someone to that. Her name was Phoebe and she was in my History class at community college. It was a prettɥ small place and I knew most of the other kids there – except for her. We weren’t on speaking terms because every time she came within a few feet of me I got the urge to vom1t. It was motion sickness, but also something worse – fear. Hers was the worst fear I’d ever felt in another human being. I could hardly stand to be in the same room as her. I managed to avoid her for a couple months, until one day when she arrived late to class. She apologised and looked around, before striding to the back of the room and sitting beside me. There was nothıng I could do. I felt it all. The nausea, the terror, and a vision too, of me stuck fast in my seat as I hurdles headlong flaming out of the sky – the ocean rushing up towards me – screaming, then – Smack. Nothıng. When I came to she was glaring at me. ‘What is your problem?’ she whispered. ‘What?’ I asked, the uneasiness subsiding. ‘I don’t –‘ ‘If you don’t like̢ me then just say so. Quit pretending to be ıll all the time.’ ‘Huh?’ I sat up, trying to get a better look at her. We’d never been this close before. She was pretty. I hadn’t thought about how I must look to her, running away every time she got close. ‘I swear it’s not on purpose.’ I said. ‘I’m sick͞ a lot. It isn’t you.’ ‘Sure.’ she said, looking back towards the front of the front of the class. ‘Honestly.’ I said. ‘Let me – let me make it up to you.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Seriously?’ And that was the start of it. Within a month we were official. It was the happiest time of my life. The sicknesses didn’t go away, but it subsided after a couple minutes, and she stopped taking it personally after a while. Dashing to the bathroom became part of the routine on dates. We did everything together, all the couple things – movies, dinners, walks. It was my first serious relationship. I convinced myself that her dEath – whatever it was – was still years into the future. For a while, anyway. At the start of the summer she told me she was going to visit her grandparents out of state. ‘The flight’s on Monday. I won’t be gone much more than a week.’ ‘Flight?’ I repeated. ‘Yeah.” she replied. ‘Hey, what’s wrong with you?’ I convinced her to take a road trip. I can’t remember the exact excuse I gave. Some nonsense about expenses, life experience, our ‘carbon footprint’. How it took me that long to guess it could be a plane crash I’ll never know. I was in too deep, I guess. But whatever it was I said she must have seen I was serious. She rented a red mini from the local garage and, after we’d packed it up, I kissed her goodbye and said it was the right decision. ‘Okay.’ She laughed. ‘Weirdo.’ Straight after she left I got the urge to call her, but I told myself I was being overprotective. I worked for a few hours, then flopped down in front of the TV. I watched bad reality shows until I got bored, then flicked to the local news station just in time to see the breakıng story of a twelve car pile-up on a suspension bridge, when a truck driver dozing at the wheel had strayed out of his lane, clipping the corner of a passing car which swerved into another, triggering a chain of collisions which ended tragically when – some viewers may find this footage disturbing – a red mini was forced over the side, plummeting into the ocean beloɯ..

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

r/shortscarystories 1 day ago CBenson1273 My Aunt Tried To Protect Me From My Mother My childhood was a nightmare. My mother hated me and took every chance to show it. Nothing I ever did was good enough. ‘B’s on report cards were because I was stupid. Unfinished chores were because I was lazy. Any beatings I got were because I deserved them. And my father was just as bad. Fortunately, her sister was my refuge. When things got too bad, I could go over there to escape for a day or two. Perhaps that was why my mother didn’t like Aunt Lisa. The feeling was mutual. So I was surprised when my aunt told me she’d invited my parents over for tea tomorrow. “Why would you invite them here? The whole reason I come here is to get away from them!!” “I know,” she replied. “But that all ends tomorrow. I’m going to have a talk with them; they aren’t going to mistreat you anymore.” I knew in my heart they’d never change, but she was determined to try. The next day, I sat in the corner as my parents entered. “There you are, you wretched child,” my mother said. “Come home this instant and stop causing trouble!” “Now, now, Lydia,” replied my Aunt. “That behavior is exactly why I called you over today. It’s quite enough.” “HOW DARE YOU TELL ME HOW TO RAIS—!” “Do calm down, Lydia. All that screaming isn’t good for your blood pressure. What’s say we all relax, have a nice cup of tea, and discuss this like adults?” My mother still looked furious, but she took the proffered cup and retook her seat. “How you treat Annie isn’t right. It needs to stop.” “You have no say in what I do in MY home. And whatever MY daughter gets, I can assure you it’s deserved.” “So you aren’t open to change, then?” “Absolutely not - that girl’s gotten exactly what she deserves.” “Very well, then. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this.” “Come to wh—“ my mother started when she suddenly began to foam at the mouth and grasp at her throat. “Don’t mind that,” my Aunt said. “Just a bit of poison I placed in your cups. I was hoping you’d agree to change your ways, but clearly you never will. Goodbye, sister.” After my parents had collapsed on the floor, I looked over at my aunt. “What did you do?” “What needed to be done,” she replied. “But what if they’d agreed to stop?” “Then I’d have given them the antidote I was keeping in my purs—“ A look of shock crossed her face as her throat closed, replaced by panic as she rifled desperately through her purse. “Looking for this?” I asked, holding up her syringe. “But…. why?” my aunt asked as she collapsed. “Remember all those times you saw my bruises and scars and sent me back there anyway?” “But I loved you like a daughter,” she gasped with her final breath. “Then you should’ve done better,” I said

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 3 mo. ago Intrepid_Wanderer ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ Delivery Room My grandparents were worried when I said I'd decided to get the tablet. They're a bit old-fashioned, but they mean well. The thing is, it's 2084. Most people who can get the tablet just go ahead and accelerate through all nine months of pregnancy. The baby can be born as soon as the parents like- no need to endure mornıng sickness or false warnings for labor. And miscarriages are nearly a thing of the past- most babies are accelerated at the first warning. Medical technology is truly amazing. Not everyone accelerates. Some people worry about those obscure studies on bonding ability in accelerated babies, some consider a "natural" course an unmissable experience and some just don't have access to it. Most of the time, though, people accelerate. I was so excited to get to the hospital. I didn't even get an ultrasound done first- the test was positive, and I was about to see my baby anyway in a few minutes. There were the occasional horror stories. Most of them were urban legends, tales of some quack who messed up and made horrific things happen. Truth was, there was very little to mess up, especially at a nice clinic like this one. With today's medications, I could expect to hardly feel the labor and go home with my family on the same day. They said I'd feel a tingling in my abdomen, maybe even some light kicking. At first I did, but it was more uncomfortable than I'd imagined. It was like a twisting, stretching sensation inside of me. I hated to imagine what it might have been like if the tablet didn't also act as an aesthetic. I tried to close my eyes and breathe through it. Something was soaking through the bed- must be my water breakıng. But it smelled metallic, and I was so dizzy. Why didn't I hear crying? Shouldn't it have worked by now? Someone started shouting, but I couldn't open my eyes to see why. The last thing I heard before losing consciousness was a doctor asking about ultrasounds and the words "ectopic pregnancy."