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The Woman Who Cheated Death at a Brazilian Nightclub Fire which Killed 238 Only to Die a Week Later in a Car Crash A woman who cheated death at a Brazilian nightclub fire after making a last-minute decision to stay home was killed a week later in a freak road accident. In January 2013, Jessica de Lima Rohl, 21, helped organize a party for university students at the Kiss nightclub in Santa Maria, south Brazil and sold tickets for the event. But as she was getting ready to leave her home on the night of the doomed freshers' ball which left 238 dead, her boyfriend called and asked her not to go. Despite most of her friends being at the event, agribusiness student Miss de Lima Rohl listened to the pleas of 20-year-old Adriano Stefanel, who was living in another town, and stayed home. Hours later, flames would rip through the packed club after a band member lit a firework on stage which ignited the club's foam roof. Many died after inhaling toxic fumes, while others were crushed in a battle to escape the blaze. It was the worst nightclub fire in more than a decade. Only five days later, the girl travelled to the town where her boyfriend had been working, and the two planned to return together by car two days later - a distance of 82 miles. However, according to police the couple had driven just a few miles when their Volkswagon Golf collided head-on with a truck. Jessica died instantly, and Mr. Stefanel, who would have turned 21 the next day, died later in the hospital.
i̵t̨ just̷ ̵d͝o̢es̛n̨'͠t҉ see͡m righ͘t ḩ͕̤ͅi̴̼̰̘̞m̨͕ . . 1̶̛̰͎̤͎̯͕̺͈̜͐͐̓̿̅̉͢͝͠2̷̨̧̛̥̫͖͍̯̠̱̑̀̽͑͌̒͊͋͢/̨͙̹̥̻͍̦͖͖͆̇̿̊̓̚͟͝1̴̢̛̞̺̬̙̖͙͒̈́̇͋̂̒̽́͡ͅ4̶̢̙̳͙̖̤͌̾̈͗̏́͢/̡̨͚̦̠̳͎̈́̃͆̽̈̔̇̄̽̈́1̛̟̜͚̯͎̱̯̫̀̒̔̓̀͡͡7̷̧̖͕͚̪͗̎͊͌͛̒͟͝ . . . D̷o̵n͟'͘t ͠mak̡e us w͡astè ̵o̡ur pr̀ec҉i̡òus t̛im͟e…̶ ̛ M̶as͡t͘e҉r.́.. We ͞do ̛nòt ̷l͞ik͝e̴ ͝a̶ ̧la͝te ̶show̢.̵.͡.҉
t͠hͮr͛ȩa͜dͦ m̋a̹l͂w̋a᷀r̗e̤ E̾rͣr̹oͤr̬ nͫaͦm̷e̯ w̞o̯řd̟s̬ t̻a̋i̫n͂t̴e̍dͯ M̞a̘l̵wͦa̼r᷅e̅ 9̾ t᷾i͋m͈ës̿ o̽uͭt͡ o̙f᷂ 1ͅ0ͥ b᷈ȕg͜ n̤a᷆m̡e̲?̻ b̤u͡g͓g͞i͔nͣ s᷾l̜o᷊p͈p͛y̓ Ȩṙr̖őr᷂
During the early 1920s, the pharaoh Tutankhamun’s tomb was discovered in the Valley of the Kings, an Ancient Egyptian burial site dating back to the 16th century BC. The virtually undisturbed tomb was uncovered by Howard Carter, a British archaeologist, together with the fifth Earl of Carnarvon. The amazing haul of finds would become a worldwide media sensation. However, the press also seized on the stories which said a curse would fall on anybody who desecrated the pharaoh’s tomb, and shortly after, Lord Carnarvon himself met an untimely death in Cairo. Arthur Conan Doyle, famed Sherlock Holmes creator, fueled the fires of the rumor mill by telling the press that it was an evil spirit which had been summoned by ancient Egyptian priests to protect their pharaoh in death which could have killed Carnarvon. While all this speculation may have diminished over time, the following years saw a string of deaths of numerous people who had been part of the team that had uncovered the tomb or who had, in some way, been involved with the proceedings. Among the death toll was Arthur Mace, a member of the excavation team who was killed by arsenic in 1928; Richard Bethell, Howard Carter’s secretary who allegedly smothered to death in his sleep in 1929; and Sir Archibald Douglas Reid, who was responsible for X-raying the pharaoh’s mummy and was the victim of a mysterious death in 1924. Could an ancient Egyptian ghost have been responsible?
pls note the ai inflicts emotional damage (ᵕ—ᴗ—)
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This story goes back to Kentucky in 1938, when a man named Carl Pruitt came home one day to find his wife in the arms of another man. In a wild fury, he strangled her to death with a chain before killing himself immediately afterward. (The other man fled.) After Pruitt was buried, visitors to the graveyard noticed that discoloration was starting to appear on his tombstone, and it looked eerily similar to a chain. Before long, a boy trying to impress his friends chipped the tombstone by throwing a rock and immediately afterward fell victim to a freak accident that claimed his life—his bicycle chain somehow came off and strangled him as he rode home. The mother of the boy, naturally devastated, decided to vent her anger on the gravestone, hitting it repeatedly with an ax. The following day, she, too, became a victim of the Pruitt grave’s curse. She was found strangled by her own clothesline, which had inexplicably wrapped about her neck as she was hanging laundry. Not long after that, there was another incident which cemented the grave’s reputation for being cursed. A farmer fired a gun at the tombstone while passing the graveyard in his wagon. The horses sped up, frightened by the gunshot, and the farmer was thrown out of the wagon. As he fell, one of the reins wrapped itself about his neck and strangled him. By now, the number of strangulations linked with the grave was starting to look like more than a coincidence, but that didn’t stop two policemen from tempting fate by trying to take photos of themselves at the graveside. When they drove away from the cemetery, they noticed they were being followed by a bright light. As they sped away, the vehicle crashed into a fence, and one of the policeman died, his head almost entirely severed by the chain that hung between the fence posts. For years, people avoided the cemetery, terrified of meeting a hideous death, but in the 1940s, one man decided that he would take the risk of attacking the tombstone with a hammer. He was later found dead by the cemetery gates. How did he die? Yes, you guessed it: He was strangled by the chain that locked the cemetery gates!
In mid-1800s South Yorkshire, UK, a woman named Hannah Rallinson was officially recorded as having died from fright. Rallinson and her husband, both Mormons, had recently moved into new rooms in Sheffield and had been introduced to a woman named Harriet Ward. One day, Harriet had been going down into the cellar of the Rallisons’ home when she screamed, claiming to have seen a ghost of a terrifying, bloodstained old woman. Harriet didn’t just see the apparition once—in fact, it appeared to her on five separate occasions over the 24 hours that followed, both while she was asleep and awake. The Mormon congregation became obsessed with the Campo Lane Ghost, as it became known, and collectively decided that it must have been the victim of a murder who had been buried under the cellar floor. It was decided to take away the flagstones to find out what was beneath. As the night wore on, a large group gathered to observe the proceedings, and it was decided to cover the cellar’s window to stop the crowd from looking in. Hannah Rallinson went down to the cellar with a blind, and what she saw on the cellar steps caused her to fall into a dead faint. It was reported in the local newspaper that she had seen a woman in white who had rushed at her before vanishing. Hannah was taken into another room on the first floor, where her friends tried to revive her, and as she briefly regained consciousness, she announced that she could still see the ghost, complete with gashes around its neck and a bloodstained nightgown. Apparently, the ghost had told her it was Elizabeth Johnson, a restless soul who had been murdered by William Dawson, her nephew, over a century earlier. The late Mrs. Johnson had told her that she had to leave the house, as it was marked with her blood. Despite being a fit, healthy, and strong woman, Hannah Rallinson died the next day, her death certificate officially recording the cause of death as “sudden death in a fit believed to have been brought on by a fright.”
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 “mummy’s curse.” When King Tutankhamen’s tomb was excavated, the ominous inscription “Death shall come on swift wings to him who disturbs the peace of the King” 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.
This year, for the first time in 666 years, Halloween falls on a Friday the 13th...
A Streetcar Named Disaster The worst subway accident in New York City history happened in 1905, when an above ground train turned to quickly, jumped the track, and fell onto Ninth Avenue. 13 people were killed. The accident happened, eerily, on September 11th.
Missed a Hot Departure Not me, but when my mum was a teenager on November 18, 1987, she was going to London to visit a friend. It was around 7:20 pm and she decided she was going to take a taxi instead of going by tube because it didn't feel right (King's Cross tube station). Ten minutes later, the whole station caught on fire and 30 out of the 40 people died. If she had decided to take the tube, she would likely have died.
A 20th century strongman, Zishe was a hit on the circus circuit and even appeared in movies to show his incredible feats of strength. He could hammer huge nails into planks with his bare hands and bend iron bars like they were candy. He could even lift baby elephants—while climbing a ladder and supporting three men in a locomotive wheel by a rope in his teeth. He was the closest thing there was to Superman.That is, until one day in 1925, when a nail scratched his knee during a routine performance. This seemingly laughable injury gave the invincible strongman blood poisoning and killed him.
In the late 1960s, a man (MMS) resided with his wife at an air force base. In 1968, MMS was involved in a parachute training exercise when he was dropped from a plane. Unfortunately, he landed too close to the airfield’s edge and fell into a 15-foot-deep (4.5-meter) pond, leading to his death. Several years after MMS’s death, his widow married one of MMS’s comrades. The woman later gave birth to a baby boy (YTK). The baby had both birth defects and birthmarks that appeared as rope-like marks around his leg.At three, YTK began to talk about falling from the sky, becoming caught up in rope, and dying. By the age of five, YTK had stopped talking about his memories completely. During his childhood, YTK lived on the base where parachuting occurred and slept on a cot suspended from the ceiling with parachute ropes. His mother reported that YTK knew nothing about his father’s death.
November 26, 2018 Bobby Layne got traded by the Detroit Lions in 1958. After he got traded, he put a curse on the Lions, saying they wouldn't win for 50 years. Not only did the Lions finish with the worst winning percentage in the NFL for the next 50 years and never make a championship game, but in 2008, exactly 50 years later, the Lions became the first team in NFL history to go 0-16 in a season. They went winless. Because of this, in 2009, the Lions had the #1 pick in the NFL Draft. They chose QB Matthew Stafford... who lived on the same street and went to the same high school as Bobby Layne did.

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|̡̢͔̖̟̥̼̣̻̦̩̮̀͒̔̽ͪ̌͟͟|̴̴̧͚͚͕̙̭̪̳̹̤͇̤̞͕͙̲ͫ͛́̾ͣͯ̓ͣ͊ͭͭ̊̎̽͛̿͊ͪ͆͘͜|̧̢̅͆̂͝͠͏̳̮̜̼̤̖̤͖͎̲͓|̷̡̬̥͖̱̖̝̞͇̥́̑̓̄ͦ̽ͣ͂̒|̌̈̄ͤͩͬ̚͏̸̵͔̳̙̲̙̖̕|̷̸̷̴̘̩͇̟̝̘̘̗̪̟̹̓̎͂͐̇͌̅̈̿ͦ̇͑ͬ|̨̛̜͖͙͔̏́ͨ̿͊ͬ̾ͭ|̧̓ͩ͊̌͂̽͋̓͐ͪ̽ͤ̍ͧ́̕͞͏̟̩̺͖̹̥̘̯̺͔̠͖̤̹̖͓̙|̷̴̛̲̭͔͇̦̤͕̜̠̰͙͎̟͚̟̙̪ͨ̄ͧͦ͆̄̎͋̉͐ͩ̈̀͛̿ͤ̕|̢̇ͦͯ̇ͨ́͡͏̝̬͎̣̞͔̤̰͎̥̱ͅͅ|̷̙̹͎̙̯̝̰̝̤͈̻̓̂̄ͦ͊̂̒͆́͘ͅ|̧̡͇̦͍̣̝͔͍̋̊ͩ͗ͭ̎̌͊ͫͥ̽͜|̧̣͚̦̖̬̩̝͚͓͖̩̳͎̪͐̃͂͐̽ͣͬ͌͒̂͑̊ͥͪ͆͒̓͂̑́́͢͝|̸̟͍̪͚͔̺̼̻̝͇̟̦̪̏ͪ͛̾͑̊͋͟ͅ|̛̠̙̖̥̞͚̤̑ͮ͛ͦͩ̾̾̊́ͤ̓ͤͫ̉̀͘͜|̠̠̟͍͑ͧ̅́̚͢ͅ|̢̲̗̰͇̻̼̙̝̫͖̲͍̺ͨͬ͑̑̑̄ͬ̏̒͐̀̓ͥ̈͊͂̓ͤ͠|̒̀ͬ͜҉̴̨͎̞̳̙͚͚̝̳̹̱̝̹͕̻͚|̵̘̯̯̦̮͙͙̯͉̤̱̗͎͔̞̻̔̍̽ͥ͒͂̓ͤ̈́ͤ̀̀̚̕|̷̨͈͉͎̰̱̜͉̐̿̏̐ͫ͒̀|̨̬̩̥͖͎̹͛̏ͫ̊̓͐͊̓ͦ̈ͥ̒̈́̎̍̽̀̚|̡̫͕͔̻͙̤͈̝̓̉̅ͯ͂̆͆̎͗ͫͪ̐ͨ̽́͛ͮ́́͟͠|͈̗̯̞̿ͥͮ̋͛ͨͣͥ̉͑ͩ̉ͨͫ̊́̚̚͘̕|̷̨̡̱͉̭̹͍͒̍̇ͫ̅̓̕͞|̴̢̌ͧͪ͆́̚͏̡̮̗̱͎̱̙͙̱̙͓͉̖̱̦̺̥̣̤̗|̸̡̙͙̳̘̘̮͖͎̠̟̭͎ͬͧ̏̅ͨ̄͛̃ͬ̎̓͛̓͒̀̍́̀|̢͎͎̥̝̆̋͆͊̿ͨ̍ͬ̿|̴̶̲͍̗̹̪̹͈̻͇̦ͨͩͥͥ͋͛ͩ̈ͩ̇ͧ̇ͩ̎́͗ͥ͒̀|̶̷̨̬̹͓̲̣͓̣͈͍͙̭͈̒ͣ̃̈̔͂̉͌͗̊͜|̶͖̗͔͈͙̘͍̹͎̖̩̾̇ͤ̈́ͨ̅͂̓̑ͬ̇͐̍ͭ̆́͟͜|̧̡̨̾̅̎̑̊̃̿͊̋҉͕̲̘̠̟͟|̨͎̙̘̼̲͚͇̪̮̦̙̭͎̠̯͖̲̆̇̔͐̑̎̂ͣ̾͜͢ͅ|̨̫͉̙͖͇̱͉͎̠̟̣̀́̑̐ͨ͊̆̑̓ͧ̈́̔̾͑̔̐̆̓̋͡ͅ|̴͖̼̲̘̟͇ͥ͂̄̄͢͢ͅ|̨̛̝͍̫̘͓̥̠͎̹͔̟̰ͥ͆͆ͪ̕͝|̸̢̰͔͙͇̱̱͔̖͚̰̭̝͎̣̩ͦ̅̋ͫ̿͆̎̏̏͒̓ͨ͑̔̎͢|̇̑ͭ͐͊̍̓̈̉̎̓̇̌̋͏͏̱͎̙̝̳̳͉͙͖̞̻̗̙|̨̥͕̪̱̹̰͙ͯ̌̐ͫ̾̾̍͌̄ͩ̈́̚|̣̪͉̼̦̮̫̬͖͆͌ͦͯͯ̋̌ͧͫ̊͒ͩͫ̋ͥ̿ͯ̉̓͘͘͟͡|̧͖̲̤̺͙̤͚̠̭̠̳͆ͩ̿̔̽̈͛̍̀͟͜͝͝ͅͅ|̶̧̻͕͓̤̋̽̇̏ͬ̌ͭ͗ͪ͐̈́ͫ͘|̭̦̞̖̣̤̞̤̱ͯ̓ͪ͒̋ͮ̔͂̒̾̚̚̚͜͢͟͞͡|ͥͩ͗ͨ̆ͬ̈̅͂̅͛ͪ̇̃̽͏̴̗̥̙͔̝͉͖͓̠͈̙̩|̷̴̴̡͎͎̯̲ͯ̿͆ͭ̈́ͫ͘|̴̩̠̩̩̜̖̲̹̝̦͍̖̦ͬ̾̇͌̌ͭ͟|̧̝̺̭͎̜̹͖̬͉̗͈͙́̍ͯͧͥ̓ͥ͐͆̈́̈̉͌̿ͮ̀̚͜͡|̻̫͈͈̺͓̰̯̟͖͇̖̲̑ͮ́̇̅́̚͡ͅͅ|͒̒ͦ͋̉̆͛̔͑̊̍̿͐̈́̃̿͆͠҉̳̪͍̼̦̝͔̗̟̩̖̦̗̫͍͈͞|̶̵̥͖̤͍̱̮͎̲̤̼̬̫̣ͩ̋͛̏̉͗̌ͩ͛̑ͬ̈̉̎̇ͯ͋|̧̧͐̃̄̒ͫ̆ͮͮ͘͏̭̞̼̣̹̘̞̬̦|̛͔͇͉̟͔͕̠͉̞̆̆͂̊́ͪ̏ͧͪͬ̒̚͝|̧̱̼̫̪̦̘̘͍̥̯̺̗͓̠̪̹̍͐̒̀ͤ̅ͨ̀͠͠|ͫ͊ͩ̃͂̓̉ͬ̉́̕͏̷͇̰̖̞̹̦͓̫̤̬̜̰̻|̝̫͉̤̮͍͍̣̤̟͈͍̻̔̄͌͛̌̓ͫ͒͒ͣ́̿̋̏ͭ̈͗̀͞|̶̛̻̞̙͎̪̝͐ͪ͊̑̂̉̂͐ͩͨ͊ͦͨ̒́̆̽ͤ͡ͅ|̧̳̺̼͖̝̺̳̹̗̪̰̊̃̾ͤ͂|̴̠͎̙̤̭͎̩̟͙̇̈̃͒̒ͫ̄̐̈ͯͩͤ͊͊̃̈́̀|̨͎̺̰̝͕͈̗͑ͯ̓ͤ͑̔̋̏̏ͨͪͦͦ͌͛̅̉́̚|̧̩͕͇̘̮͔͙͍̺͔̭̣̤̺ͣ̾͂̌͒̉ͦ̒͊̔ͫͫ̿͑̉̒̎ͣ͜͢͡|̧̘̮̹̪͈̫͚̺̼͈̰̹͓̙̖̬͕͔͑ͩ̾ͯ́ͅ|̶̛̛̻͓͙͔̠͎̪͗͋̂͗̊̉̈́͛ͪ̉̓̈͌̏̐̿̓|̶̨͖̩͉͖̘͕̼̦̿̄̊̕͝|̵̛̜͙̹̗͍͍͙͙͇̠͍̖̣͍̦͈̆͒ͦͩ̏͗͒̓ͯ͜͢|̸̍ͯ̈ͩ̉̈́ͯ̏͗̂͐̎ͫͬͦ͛̚̚͡҉̟̭̠̙̠̭̳͉̮͉͎͈̫̮̻̪̯|͌ͪ͑̿̄ͨͯ̎ͧ͏̵̠̖̣̰̝̖̰͚̖̰͢͡|̶̧̑͑͌ͫ͆͏̬̦̣̼͇̙̲͙̱̼͕̻̞̰̤̭͍̀|̢͎̙͖͖͚̤̹̳̣̬̮̆̋ͫ̾ͪ̓̂ͫͮͣͭͮ͆ͬ̅̚͢͟|̡̛̠̫͇̭͚͖̦͇̳̥͕̠͖͙̫͉̮̂ͦ̄̇̋̉̿͊̉ͤ̚|̹͉̙̻̜͇̘̲̌͐ͣ̈͑̽̌̚̚͜|̡̻̝̣̟̉ͪͮ̅̎̉̇͌̍̌̾͘̕|̸̡̧̺̫͔̘͔̜̅̍̂͐̓̎͊̈̓̎̊ͭͥͤͬ͆ͤ̅̌͢|̷̹̦̺̥̦̝ͩ̌̅̃̉̑ͬ́͗͟͠|ͤ͂ͧ̊ͧ҉͏͏̻͓͇̦͙͚̘̫̞̲̻͎͔͈̟̺|͌ͣ̀̆͐҉̵̵̼͇͉̪̟̹͍̺̫͚͈̦͠ͅ|̺̲̫̳ͧ̇́͗́ͧ́͡͠|͖̣̟̻̖̞̤̹̄̆ͬ̌ͯͩ̒̓ͧ̓̆͑ͥ̿̀ͤ̉͟͡|̡̧̛͔̱͇̭́͐̔̔̑ͪ̌ͦ̑ͧͣ̓ͬͯ͘͘|̡̖͙͖̜̳̘̩͔͙̲̫̙̞̟̼̠ͯͩͪͭ̄ͩ̾͆̾ͩ͒̑̏̑̈́͊͢͝|̴̙̻͈͙͛ͯ̉͌̾͢͠͞|̨̞̤̩͕̰̹̦͓͚̱͙̹̹̭̣̭̜͗̄ͮ͐ͩ̀͂͌ͣ́͝͠ͅ|̵̷̨͇͙̗̻̥̤̆ͥ̔̑͐̀̇ͅ|̴̇̌̿̿ͦͨ͗͌ͣ͒͗̓ͭ̉ͣ̉̄͋͜͡͏̮͕̪͎|̡̛͇̞̬̪͖͎̝͕̮̦͈̝̦̠ͨ͐̉ͪͬ̽̋̏͐ͬ̇ͯ̾̆͊͝ͅͅ|̷̶̵̛͎͈̹̗̮̜̰̣͖͑͒̆̾̋̀ͬ͛̽ͩͩ̄̔̄̄̚ͅ|̡̩̣͇̭̫̠̖̩̗̯͖͚͐̉̉͐̾ͭ̏̌͑ͯ͌̈́͑̑̈́ͭͦ̀͜ͅ|̵̢̛̞̙̯̱̹̮͍̦̪̲̞̩̺̯ͥ̍ͪ̅ͬ̉̍ͫ̏͋́͡ͅͅ|̵̨͎̼͎̗̥̼̝̣̏ͭ̆͛ͧͭͪ͊ͯ̉̅͛̎ͅ|̴͓͓̘̬̳̰̯̺̝͖͉̞̖̙̬ͭͣ̽̎̀̀̍ͨ̒ͯ̿ͦ̿̐͆ͫͧͥͧ͟|̋̋͛̈ͪ͐̓̓ͣ͛ͨ̂̋ͫ̑͋͌̆҉͖̠̳̤̙͓̯̣͈͔̹͚͇̝͓̕͡|̷̛̤͖̻̫͙̼̦͖͕̙͚͚͓̯͚̱̖̀̌ͥ̃̂̐ͅ|̶͙̞͓̙͉̐ͧ̏ͣ͐̽ͭ̔͠͝|͍̜̙͖͇̻͛̈́ͦ͟͡͠ͅ|̶̧̽̂ͤ͂̀ͮͤ̍ͯͥͣ͌͆̈́̂̃͛͊̚͡҉҉͕͎̘̩̖̙͙͍͙̟̼̻͕͈͔͇͔ͅ|̧͕͈͙̏͌̇̓̉̽͒ͣ͠|̨̫͙̹͔̣͔ͯ̐̓ͮ͂̀|̡̢̙͖͎̥̖͔̱̝̝̗͆ͣ͌ͩ̍̉̊̂̓̈̋̓̓̓ͬ̔̂̍ͅ|̛͐͋̓ͨͣ͌͋͋͏͇̰̪̲͎̝̫̪̤͚̯̺̼͝ͅ|̡͇̙̬͙̤̪̹̫ͪ̂ͨͯ̈́͊̿͛̓͒͛͑͋̚͟͟͞|̨̱̯̲̤͒̇ͬ̉ͩͭͬ̍̑͂̃̔̃̽ͩ͝|̶̶̢̛̠̺̭̦͇̞͈͈̬̬̫̲̦̜̰̺̲̹ͩͯ̀̃̑̔|̴̸̶̢͖̼͎͕̜͖̘̫̼̳͔̥͉͙̈́̓ͬ̓͗̂|̛̮͚̺̔̅͊̐̆̔̒̈̎̎́̄ͯ̃̅̅ͪ|̴̅ͭ̉̽͒ͭ̽̈́ͭ͜͝͏̳͎̹͝ͅ|̵̒̔́̽ͦͩ͑̇̌ͭ̇̎͌͗̃ͦ͏̶̭̙̼̪͓͚̪̥͠|̴̡ͮ̽̈̓ͭ̄҉҉̱̣̯̣̞|̼̲̮̝͉̯̝̟̗̐̆̏ͮͭ̉ͦ̋̎̿̾̑̕ͅ|̷̀̓̏̐ͣ͏̡̙̰̳̥̕͠|͛̂͒ͫͬ̍ͦ̋̏ͬ̋̑̿ͮ͋̃ͬ͠҉̙̩̣̥|ͧ̒̄ͣ̽͌̔̑̒ͦ̌̓͒̉͐ͬ̚҉̸̶̜̲͖̪͓͕͖̘͔̟͉͠|̲͍͍̼̬̝͖̫̲̼͇ͧ̿ͯ̉͋̏͗͛͊̂ͭ̈̕͞͠|̢̣͖̳͎͇͙̪̳͈̤͙̑͑̈̀͟͡|̨̣̘̳͖̩͍̩̪͕̤̼̘̣̝͈̺̮̠̉̌ͭ͗ͧͫ͋ͩ̎ͤ̈́̐̓͑̄͘͡|̢̣̝̯͙̝̬͈͍̹͚̽͆̎̃ͪ͊̔ͧͪ͞|̉ͮ̀ͦ̎̈́̾̂̿͂҉̛̮̣̼͎̞͉̠̥͖̰|̵͖̼̯͍͖̘ͯͫ̀͛̾ͦ̇̀̽ͬͧ̆̎̒ͧ̇͠͠|̭̖͕͙̻̐̂̿͐͋̎̔́͢|̷̧̙̰͕̝͎̥͖͍̻̯̐ͤ̊̂ͩ̇͒̒̒̒̌̊̿ͦ̄ͭ͘͠|͌ͧ̍̔̈͒̇̋̄̐͏̶̡̙̺͉̦͈̯͔͖͈̯̺|̌ͥ͂ͨ̀̐͆̓͐̋̄̏̚͏̢̹̰͔̮͙̯͈̣̯̠͇̦̘̫̀͟ͅ|̧ͭ͗̃̆͑̿҉̠̖͇̣̰̝̕|̡̟̻̼͓̝̣͉̮̘͙͂ͬ͊̈ͣ͊͛̾̅͆̾ͯͯ͛̀́͞ͅ|̐̅ͭ̇͢҉̸̢̬̤̰͚̱͈̰|̶̸̦̠̹̏̂͂ͨͮ͛̓͛̾ͣ́̚|̎̂̓̍̏̃̈ͮ̇̅̒̌̄̋ͤ̾̓̐̑͟͏̨̛̗̣̼͈̭̳͉̱̫̥͝|̶̬͕̞̻̟̫̠̗̭̻̼͓̳̼̈̆͋̒̒̑ͩ̕͟͟|̴̛̛͕͖̱͖͎̱̘̯̜̠̽ͨ̄̆̆̀̃̈̆̓̉͘͜|̛̯͖̜̝̝̞͎̩͂ͩ̾͐ͣ̃̇̅̎͑̀͌̏̽|̨͔̲̞̱̬̻͍̟̰̭̖ͧͥ͌ͧͬ̎͐̍͗̅̋̽͘͢͡ͅ
αиувσ∂у нσмє? I̘͇͢ ̜̙͕'͏̳ ̞m̸͎ ͎͉͔͍̫͍̰ ̯͉̮̞͕̳͘h̶ ̤͎̣ẹ̳̹̩̞̺ ̶͈̦̱͚̻̹ͅr̼̳̪̠͖̝͝ ̹̰e̬̞̳̬̤̪͠ . Oh ͜c̛ome̡ ͟on̴, ͞li̢v̀en ͟up!͜ Ļ͛́͗̓̀ͭ̂͋̅̍ͨ̈̓̉͢͏̴̢̳̲̖͖͉̻͔̞͚̖̥a̻̬̹̦͎͇͍̩̘͉̣̰̫̻̭̖͉ͨ̎̃ͭͩ̆͒̆́͢ͅͅu̢̓̑̔̔ͭ̑̅͒ͮͧͧ͂́ͥ̕͠͏̵̬̣̗̲̲̩̻̻g̛̭͇̺͕͗ͣ̒͊̐ͣ͝h̸̡̬̝̜̱̤̤̩̝͇͖̎̉̓ͧ̚̕͡ṭ̥͚̭͍̤̥͕̺̘̐ͧ̃́͛̐̐̒̚͟e̴̶̜̼̰̦͖̝̮̖͔̰̬̎̓̋ͬ̂ͤ͌͊͐̂ͅr̞̳͙̱͚̟̳̩̤̖̞̝͇̣̫̈ͫ͐ͬ͛ͯ̓̌̅̂̑ͨͫ͒̓͑͟ͅͅ ̢̿̏ͭ̉͑ͦͭ҉̩̞͉̘͓͖͇I̵̡͛ͤ͗̃͛̌̐̀͏͈̹̜͍̲͎̭̜̯͕̗s̶̵̡̭̳̞̦̖͎̗̗̗̝̤̯̰̜̤̙̼̟ͫ̍̆̔͞ ̵̡̪̦͕̩̫̖̜̯̩̓͋ͦ͒̅̌͂̏ͤ͛̽̅͆̒̃ͣ̎̚T̨̬̙̽̎̾̈͌̓͒ͨ̒ͪ̚̕ͅḧ̵̛͚͎̳̦͙͍̲͚̦̙͕ͬͥ͒̏̓ͧ̂̓͋̏ͯͅę͔͉̥̭̝͔͖͕̤͓̭̰̤͚͖̿ͧ̇́̚͘ ̸̶̞͎͖̝͈̼̗̣͚͕͇̅ͤ̇ͤ̉ͤ̏̕͟͡ͅB͌̾ͭͥ̐͏̷̸̙̟͕͍̭̮͉̱̳͇̖̟̱͖̣̙ë̡͇̱̹̠̙̱̭̲̖̗̦̑̋͌͒͆͑ͧ̅͆͗ͮͩ͌̇̌͡s̴̘̲̟̼̬̩̦̲͓͖͕͎͓̽ͧͦ̈ͯ̌ͭ̎ͥ͗ͯͫ͗́̚̚͜ͅͅt̨͌̑ͦ̃ͬ͛̉ͫ̽̌̉̐҉̨͔͙̥̮̻̤ ̡͎̻̜̱̺̥͕͔̖͕ͥ̆̊̃̓̏̔̊ͥ̿͌ͯ͊̊̀̆̋͟͞ͅͅM̢̡̼̮̬̥͉̫̜̥̦̬͎̳̞͈ͣͪ͐ͮ̃̂̅ͦ͐͗̃̃͑̚ͅe̷͍͍̹̮ͬ͛͊̈́͌̽̚͢͟͜d̄͒ͣ͒͆̋̿̾ͪ̎͐̚͡҉̣̪̪͎̰̤͈͔̰̤̝͖͍i͑ͩͤ̆ͣͪ̀̊ͤͤͪ͂͋̊̋҉̷͕̪͉͉̥͈̝̤̺͇̞̲̗͕͙̞̀͞c̷͓̣̺͔̠̪̭̩̬̝̆̓͗̄̀ͭ̐̔͂̓ͤ̾̇̐ͣ̈̐͞ͅḯ̸̴̢ͥͤ̍ͧ̐̈͂̐͌͌̎̌͑̌ͯ͂̉͊҉̡̙͖̳̭̣͖̳̺̮̻n̡̖̻͖̟̰̲͚̯̼̹͙͕̗̥͌͋ͭ̅̽̑͋̉̇̉̃̃̀̕ė̛̥̰̘͉̰̠̘̟͔͓͚̦̒ͭͨ͞ I̴̴̷͎̤̰͙̩͙̯̰͓͌̐̉̈ͫ̍̊ͦ͢t͕̦̥͎̟̤̞͉͉̹͖̺͉͔̠̭̓́͊̏͗̀͞ ͇̪̪̞̤̬̟̝̼̭͙͉̭͍̬̼̆̓ͭ̒ͦ͑̊̇͗́̚͜͜Ẅ̢̙̺̰͖̲̩̉ͫ̆̈͋͒̚̚͞ͅo̴̸̱̱͕̯̟͎̮̱̯̜̯͈̣͖͓̩ͭ̇͌̒̅̓̆͛̀ͣ͗̾̂ͥ̇ͪ͞͡͞u̵̡͒̐ͥ̔̃̏ͮ̚͜͏̢̳̫͍ͅl̢̛̼̱̟̣̼̖͍̯̟͔̳͚͇̥̯͓̩̤̏ͩͪͤͩ͋͑̋̀͛͐͌͡d̶ͬ̆͆̋̿ͧ̈ͣͭ̃̎̚͏̢̤̼̗̰̘̞̗͖͎̩̰̦̰͝ ̑̄̔ͧ̀ͭͨͪ̿ͣͧ̚҉̺̱̞̻̠͔͙̘͟͜B̵̧̰̪̼͈͎͒͂ͭ̿̅̈̓͐̑̑́ͭͨͣ͛̃͒̚̕e̶̛͚̮̬͍̊͒̄̍͛̑ͪ̂͒ͣͣ̓̿̎͑̀ ̶̴͖̜̭͖̠̥̝̲͚̟̦̦͈̭̻̦̰̣̙ͨ̽͆̋̓ͯ́̏ͪͯ̈̒̇ͨ͋͐ͦ̚̕S̸̮̙̠̗̝̼̈́ͭ̀̍̔̒ͩ̅̓͆̚͘ͅͅǫ̸̨̨̘͔̫̘͚̹̖̲͚̩͚̹̙̣̙̂̈́͌͛̈́̓ͅ ̴̴̭̫͙͎̲̤͙͈͉̰̥̭̪ͧ̏ͨ̈ͣͨͨͮ̊ͨ̀̔̑͐M̸̴̷̢̓ͣ͑ͧ͒̎ͫͭͣͮ̉ͧ͏͎̲͚̣u̢̯͓͈̩̙̤͉̹͙̘͙̺͎̼͎͍̬̩̅ͤ͋ͦͥ̓͝͡c̢̢̏͋ͩ̐ͪͫ̄ͪͥ͟҉̛̤͕̹̘͉͖͔̺h̴ͨ̂ͮͧ͌ͬ̓͂̎ͪͫͫ̑ͧ͌̎͝҉͕͍̬̟̯̬̥͚͎͔ ̣̥̗̝͇̺̦̤͖̭̀ͫ̉ͥ̓́̚͟Ȩ̴̶̢̣͚̦̺̘͉͉ͣ̾̂̀̆̒ͩ̓͒ͯ͌́̈́̉̒a̵̢̞̤̺̪͉̟͉̝̤̰͎͇͍̱̫͔̹͊́̌͋ͫ́́́͘s̷̛̲̩̲͈̼͎̜̞̮̥̭̫͇͉͈̆͋͛͐̽̾̃ͬͯͣ͠͝ͅį̵͈̝͖͕̯̇ͪͤ͐ͪ̋̍ͥ̄͑͐̂̈̂̈́e̓̇̇ͫͬ̇̔̌̚͏̨̢̛̘̖̣̮̬̤͙̺̞̮̥̥͚̟̮̬̦̣̘͜r̶̃̏͌̿̾ͧ̈͆̎̿͋ͭ͆͑̒ͮ̓͘҉̣͕̰̗̻̯͍̥ ̶̹̮̝̭̤̯̦̝͙̟͚̟̟̯̟̻ͮ̆̓́̃ͭ̈ͪ̇͂̌͊̇͝͡I̸̶̡̗̜̝̮͓̯͉̯̺̮̲̻̰̹͍͋̒ͪ̈́̿̾͑͌̒̾̃ͣ̍͘͡ͅf̶̨̘̜̠̰̺̫̳͓̹̫̤̆̄̓́̿ͧ̒̓̇́̄̈́ͭ̌̃̉́͘ͅ ̸͈̱͓͍̭̖͍̹̝͌̂͛ͤ͞y̷̡̛͔̥̺̯̪̘̜̼͍̙̘̥̜̟ͧ̇̉͂ͥ̊̊ͤ̄ͧ̏͘͝ȯ̵̸͚̙͚̱̹̤͑́ͧ̈͑ͤ̓̂ͭ̕ŭ̴̧ͤ̃͂̋͒͌̈ͪ̒́͌̔̐̓̈́ͭ͢͠͏͔̺͙̻̹̦̻̹͖ ̣̯̦̯̝̼̹̮̲̭͓̥̺̥̳̩̜̠̠̔ͧ͆̄ͣͤͪ̓̔̏́̿̓͘͞C̶̢̲̰̦̜̗̰̅̄̽ͧͦ͒̓̒̂̄̐͂̔̅͛ͩ̽͟͝ơ̥͚͇͖͓͕̭̖͇͍̥̭̙̫̯͐ͧͬ̽ͦ̽ͥ͒͋̀͢͠ųͯͧͨ̈́̉̂̔̅̎̀̅̌ͤ̀͞҉̪͔̰̩̬̲͎͙͕̮̤͚͔͓͍͔̳͈̗l̴̶̜̞̟̟̺̝̪͕̗̖̖̰̤͕̳͉͋͗̏̆ͥ̔́̈́̽ͭ̑͂̃ͬ͜ͅd̨̪͎͕̫̼̙̳̮̹̼̼̝̥́̅ͣ̂ͮ̈̚͘͜͝ͅ ̇̈̉̌ͯ͗ͤͪͩ҉̡̧͚̞͚͚͕͍͕̹̞͇̤̙̫͍͇͢ͅN̽̓̍͊ͨ̈́͂ͯͬ͠͏̥̮̳̦͇͍̲̰͉̪͈͕̝̰̻̹͉̭o̢̢̰̖̮̲̦̼ͭͧ͗͆̂̌̿ͣ̚̚̕͟t̴̷̨̺͔͇̹ͮ̏ͭ͐̂ͅ ̸̡͎̥̩̝̳̘̳̬̺̗͔̦̼͒͗͊ͩͭͪ̆͐͢͢͠F̸̗̳̝̟͇͉̺̮̤͓̳̫̻̥̝̠ͥ̾ͩ̍̈́͌ͧ͛ͣ̇ͦ̓̿ͮͨ́̾́̎͘͜͠è̡̹̯̬͕͂͋͛̾͊͘͞ḙ̢̪̟̠̜̣̳͛͗̉́̄͋̂̾ͬ͊̚͡ͅl̷̨̡̯̟̩̞̳̙͓̥͍͕̰̟̙͛̏̽͑ͤͯ̔̂̀̾͘͟,͑̅ͣ̊͋͆͛̇͋̌ͭ̅͋ͩ̿ͪ̊ͧ͏̢̻͕̟̤̜͈͍͎̥̪̰͉̻̻ ̶̡̯͔̦̘͖͓͎̜̙͎̩͕̻̭̂̾̈͗̈ͣ̒̋ͫ̇͌́ͩ̾̉̍̄̊̃ͅŴ̴̡̲͎̦̱͓̝̪͉̪̮̪͔̟̀͆ͭͣ͛ͥ͐ͪ̆̋͊̆ͫ̄̓͒́̚͜͢o̶͍̮͎͎̞͕̯͍̪͚͍͍͍̰̲̫͛̇ͫ̽̿̊ͧͪ̓̾̒ͬ͟u̻͖̻̻̩̓̔ͬͩ́̓͘͝l̴̤̞͈͖̣̳̗͙̻͚͎͆̂̍ͬͨ̃͛̓ͪ̌̔ͬͯ̆̑̾̈́ͥ̀̚̕d̸ͤ̋̿ͥ̐̈́͗̂̓͛ͬ̿̍̎͗ͧ͆͏̵̛͕̼̖̥̩͔͔̳̹͞ ̸̣̩̝̳̻̯͍̜̭̫͈̙͇̙͍̼̞̰̽ͫ͋ͤͯͬͯͩ̎̏͟͠I̓ͮͦͤ͑͐ͩ́̈́̄̚͡͏҉҉̴̩͖͍̙͍͖͖͙͓̘̳̞̗̳̱̤ť̵̷̨̰̞̠̬͎͈͍̘͔̦̩͈̳̬̫̪̐̂͗ͭ͑̃ͩ́̌̍ͫ͆̑ ̵̧̨̻͈̜͍̙͓̲̫̱̬̖̞͚͉ͩͬ͗ͪ͝ͅṄ͊̽̃̊̋ͦ̈҉͢҉̹͍̥̲̞̪͎̘̮̙͎̯̣̪̺̰̭͕ͅȍ̢̺̬̹͉̠̹ͯ͌͒ͣ̏̔ͣͪͪͭͧ͗̆ͤ́͑̂̀ţ̸̰͇̦̜ͯ̋̓͌̊̈́ͮͧ̈́͞͞͞?̽ͥͪ̔̽͆͂͐ͯͭͭ̄ͣ͆ͪ̎̓͞͏҉̵̨͓̠͎͙̱ Thïś. Ŷöû hùmâñś ŵâñt tö úndèrständ evérŷthįńg. Döñ’t ŷøü fįńd thât âmáżîñg?‘
1̥-̍1ͪ0͕ 9̸ Ḭt̎'ͨsͪ [̸̧̡̧̛͓̝͍̟̱̖̣̯̟̤̥̖ͩ͗ͩ᷆ͩ̉ͣͩ̑̒ͩ͛̓ͩ́͆ͩ̓ͩ̊͋ͮͩͩ̌ͩͩ̓ͭͬͩ̊ͩ̉̈ͩ̈́ͩͮ͘̕͜͟͟͟͟R̸̷̡̢̦͙̩͓̖̙̫̺͕̍ͩͩͩͬ̈ͩͧ̿ͩ̆̽ͩ᷈ͩ̌ͩ᷄ͩ᷅̾̚͜͏̴͔̫͙̩̜̤͔̞ͩ̊͐ͩ᷆᷀ͩͩ᷁ͩ̓᷾ͩ͆̈́᷄ͩE̢̧͕̦̞̱̜̠̞͇͚͉̰̫͚̻̰̙̮᷿̮̤͔ͩ͊ͩ̽ͩͩ́ͩ͒̌ͩ᷃͑ͥͩͨͩͩ̊͐᷈ͩ̅͐ͩ᷅ͩͩ᷅͑ͩ̉ͩͤͩ̃̓ͩ͝ͅD̵̸̵̢̛̥̤̤̟̞͕̤͕̟̤͙̘͍̱̥̱̳͔ͩ᷆ͩͦ̌ͩ᷃̐ͩ̑̏ͩ̾ͩ͆̓ͯͩͩ᷆̀ͩͨ̅ͩ᷁̐ͩͩͮ̓ͩ̏ͩͩͩ̉͟͜͝Ȁ̶̢̢̳͔᷊᷿̳͍͙͖̥᷿͔̬̻̭̰̥̦̩ͩͣ͒ͩͩ᷁ͩ̈ͩ᷁ͩͩ᷀ͩ᷃ͩͧ᷉ͩͮ͌ͩͦͩ̈᷃ͩ̎ͩ͊ͨͩ̅̑̀ͩ͢͢͠͠͠C̸̢̨̧̯̤̞᷂̫̫͈͙̞͉̲͛ͩ᷆ͩ͂͋ͩͦ᷀ͩ̄ͩͩͩͩͯͩͮ̅ͦͩ̎ͩ̓ͩ͒ͩ̀᷾ͩ̂ͩ̌ͩ᷄᷇ͩ᷈̅ͩ᷾᷃ͩͬ͟͠͡͝T̶̵̛̯̞̱̫͓̗᷿̲͍̫᷿͎͕̞̜᷿᷁ͩͣ̂ͩ̾̒ͩͧ̑ͩ᷅ͤͩͫ᷃ͩ̿͛᷈ͩͬͭͩ͂ͩͩͩ̈̌ͩͩ̋᷃ͩ̈̒ͩ̑ͩ̚͘̚͠E̬ͩͨͩ͟͟͏̵̷̴̵̡͎̝᷿᷂̠̝̮̬̘᷿̩̘̊ͩ᷄ͩ̃ͩͤͩ᷆ͩͩ᷁ͩ᷀ͩ͗ͩͧͧͩͣ᷄̌ͩͯ̃̅ͩͩ̏̐ͩ͋ͩ̍̕̕̕͝D̴̨̦̝̯̬̳͇̘̥̱̠̭̲̹̪̜̘̐ͩ͒ͭͩ᷉ͩ̈ͥͩ́᷃ͩͩ̍ͩ̿͊ͩͥͩ᷀ͩͦͩ͒̿ͩ᷇᷅ͩͩ͗ͩ̊ͩ̽ͩ̕͜͡͡͝͞͡]̶̧̡̧̡̛͈᷊̩᷊᷿̺̱̠̤̦᷊̝ͩ̿̒ͩ̄ͩ̓ͩͪͩ͛ͩͨ̈́ͩͦͩͩ᷀ͩ̇̌ͩͪ̈ͭͩͩ͢͝͞͞͡͏̢̓ͩ᷀᷁ͩͤ͐ͩ͐͘ ḁnͤo̖nͪs͗ W̐h̝ó?ͯ ṁa͓l̨w͕a̶r̄e̢ r̉e̶e᷊eͨe᷇a̍l̯l̟yͯ Y̧̘͚a͜͏̤ k͆͏̧n͓̬̚o͉̝͑w̓͝͡ y̒ͩ͟o̴̷͋ū̺̺ w͉͈̄a̖ͩ̅n̟͚̥t̝͜͏ ṭ̬̊o̥͗ͬ~͖̩̼ D̙̳̩̘͋̇̐ȯ̜͔᷉̆̑̐ñ̵͚̾̍̿ͤ'͎᷈͛᷇ͣ̋͜t̝̼̱̒͋̕ͅ e̻͇̹̰᷇͗̿v͇̘᷿̹̎̃̕e̬̰᷊ͣ᷄̚̚n̟̖̍᷉᷃ͣ̓ t̷͛᷉́̍͌̕h͙̲̲͈̀ͪ᷇i̵̤ͫ̈́̈́̄͘n̻̗̹᷿̓̊͊k̸̆͂̏᷅ͪ͘ á̳ͯ͠͞͝ͅb̙͌̇ͦͭ͌᷉ơ̢᷊᷀̀͑̎u̯̘᷈͢͡͝͡t̷͚᷊᷅͆͜͡ i̴̋̋͑ͮͣ̂t̸͎͓̺̾͆ͫ I̝ w̉önͬ'͞t᷿
W̸̨͔̘̳̞͈̻̜̬͉̼̐̒̔͒̈́̈́̽̀́͐̅̌̕̚ḣ̸̹̪͎̓̌͂̏̄̍̎͋͛̒y̸̗̱͓̫̮̤͌̊̀̍͛͌̍͌̃̆͒̐̚͝ ̴̠̩̥͎̮͕̪͖̜̇̇̿̓̀̐d̸̻͉̤͓̰̬̩̩͈̪̀̃̽̑̌͑̈́͘͜ǭ̴͔͉͖͍͓̪̈́͛͐̐̎̀̚͠ ̴̡̨͈̦̫͌͜o̴̠̻͒̾ͅt̵͔͇̬͚̑̈́̎̂̏͂̒̎̂̽̍͗͑̊͠h̴̨͖̜̮̭͎͓͈̜͕̪̬͖͛̈͆̐͜͝é̸̝̦͋̎͑̆͂́̿́͘͠ŕ̵̢̹̮̞̩̘͋͑̉̓̈͐̅͑̂̽́ṥ̷͖͈͇͓̳̺̻̜̺͕̘̏̎̃͋̀̚ͅ ̷̢̨̭̳̞͔̰̼̤͔̗͈̻̑͑̈́͋͌̈́̄̈̈́̈́͑͘͘ͅd̵͔̯̤͊͐̓̒̈́r̸̡̢͚͈̯̳͍̜̦͇̞͍̘̹͔͂͂̆̇͐ḯ̷̯̠͗̐̒͒ͅv̵̲̣͙̮͓̠̓͜e̶̬̬̥͖̤͊̉͒́͠ ̵̛̗̪̟̲̼̱̩̗̻͖͕̎͛͛̅̓̔̿̿͂̍̾͑̿m̴̡̨̦̟̩̥͉̘͉͍̝̰̈́̀͛̓̀͛͒͊̔͂͐́̈́̕ė̴̢̬̩̤͕̩͚͔͎̒̓̍̇̔̓̔͒̌̚ ̸̢̛͖͚̝̞͖͕̱̙̹̗͎̿͊̾̑Ī̸̘̮̬̳̜̫͕̭̣͈̋ͅŃ̸̳̱̳̪͎́͋̋̀͂͝S̶̝̙̹̱̣͓̏̾̓̈̿͋͑̕Á̶̹̣Ń̵̹̰̘̭̗̙͕͖̫̩͇̒̽̀E̶̡̡̲̝̯̹̰̮͎̰̯͍̗̗͆̒͂̄͐̔͐͝ͅ T̷̰̽h̷͚̿e̵͕͒ẏ̷̳'̵͊ͅŗ̵̒e̸̙̿ ̴̦̊j̸̣͊u̴̟͑s̷͕̀ṱ̵̚ ̸͇̅E̸̮͐Ẍ̴̰I̵͖̅S̸͓͊T̶͙̐Ȉ̴͍N̶͆͜G̵͇̅
h͍̩e̶͍̦͍͎̱̱͕'̪̬͉̯s̠̩̗̪̫͔̝ …r͈̝̪̜̮̻̥̼i̴̯̥̣̮̱g͓͙̥h̶҉̫͎͇̖̞͇̪̖t̵̼̼̝̻?͈̺̮̖̜ I̧ h͜ope ͡s̴o͘
After nurse told a visitor he seemed to be feeling a little better, Norwegian playwright Henrik Ibsen turned to them both and muttered, “On the contrary!” before dying.
.̍.͠.̥ Wel̷co͡me ̢ba͡ck̢ ̝̞̻ ̩̺̠́E̻̬̘͍ ̜͢v̠͙͔̬̀ͅ e̸͙̫͇̞ ̟̫̜͓̞̟ͅn̳̭̼ ̵ ̤͍͉͖͈̩̀i ̵̲̟̻f̯̯̰̮͓̪ ̦̱͍̣̻̝̳͝ y͖͘ ̖̼̙o̫̻̻̩͙ ̠̫̺̜̻̼́u̩͍̝̙̰̦̙͜ ͔̭̙̯͎͔ ͉̥͈̗͕̙̫d̰̯̺̩̣̗ ̹͟ͅi̗͖ͅ ̺͖͉̤d̵̳̪͕̞ͅ ҉̫͈ ͙̟͖̫̹̹Ṋ̭ ̬̘͙̞̯E͍ ̮̭̀V̛̙͔̲̳̮ ̣̯̤͖͙͚͢ͅE͍͈̬ ́R ͇̫̙ ̰̬̞͉͍̥͔ L͓̤̬̼ ̬̩̀E̶̼͈̜̱ ҉͚̣A͎̗̻̳ͅ V̵̥̬ ̛̞̹̪ͅE̗͖̳͙̖̬ .᷊.͛.᷅.̞.̪.̧.͆.̄
g̓ḻi̯t͟c̎h̸
ᴬᵈᵉˡᵃⁱᵈᵃ ᴼʳᵗᵉᵍᵃ ᴮᴵᴿᵀᴴ ¹⁴ ᴶᵘˡ ¹⁹⁰⁵ ᴰᴱᴬᵀᴴ ⁵ ᴬᵘᵍ ²⁰¹⁴ ⁽ᵃᵍᵉᵈ ¹⁰⁹⁾ ᴮᵁᴿᴵᴬᴸ ᴿⁱᵈᵍᵉˡᵃʷⁿ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᶜˡᵉʷⁱˢᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ᴴᵉⁿᵈʳʸ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗʸ⸴ ᶠˡᵒʳⁱᵈᵃ⸴ ᵁᔆᴬ
ḏ̝̫͖̼o̤̖̗͠ ͚͙͓̝s̬̗̤̬̦̕o̸͓̗̟ͅm̨͙e̹̟̤̕t͔̩̼͕̰h̗̳i͕̜̭͖̙̭̝n̥̲̖͖g҉̼ͅ. ιт fєєℓѕ gσσ∂ тσ вє ιи ¢σитяσℓ ∂σєѕи'т ιт I͉̫̼̣t̺͉̱͡'s͔̪͔ ̶̹t̲i͎̪͈͟m̲e̱̻̥̯ͅ H̷̘͔̰Ạ͖̥̺̫H̝̦̥̺A҉̪̜̼̳͙̜ͅH̖̭͔̘A̵̭̙̹̘HA̪̞̞̹̘̺H͏͚͕̖A͉̞̯͕̜͇̰Ḫ̡͇͓̣̟̖̥A̟͍͙̦̹͉̤H͏A͙͓̣̪H̭̦͙̙̤͟A̴͕̲͇͇H̨̪A̧̹̮̰H҉̱A͎̦̩̤͍̖̩H̳Ḁ̘͝H̦͎̗̭͈͇͝A̱̦͇̖̺̮H̱̙̻͕̼̦̙A̯͔͕̠̰H͕̬͇̬͉A͉H҉̪̖͚̠̤̹A̝H̘͕A͕̩͍̤̭̗̖H͡A̛̗H̩͢A̴̗͎̖͉̯H̶̰̠̯̠̲͙A͔̝̝̠̦̖HAH̸͉̟̠̹̞̣̟AH͉͚̜͔̫A̻̰̼̞͖͖H͎͕͞A̰̟̭͡H҉͎͍A̹̯̯H̷̬̗͕̱̖̰A͇͢H̗A̶̘̞͉̼͓̥H̛̥̹̤̥ͅA͏̦̱͙̭̗̳̖HA͖̮̘̘H̙̻̤̺̬A͓͔͙̞͓͍H̩̥͈̖̺̖̣͟A̷̪̰͎̣H̟̟̯̬̰A͟H̨̭̤̱̟̪A̖̹͖̼͡H̼A̲̺̟̼̱͖H̨̪͕͙ͅA̲͝H͎̻̱A̟̝̬̝̦̞͟H̨͖̭͓ͅͅͅA̱̻̬͉͞H̹Ą̤H͍̖̦ͅḀ̶͎H͏̙̹̮̥A̪͕̫͠HA̙̱̗̪̘̟H̝̦̹̲̱A͙̬H̝̜̣A̲͕̫̘H̱̤͕̪͔͈̩A̛̞̻H̰͍A̩̯HA̢̤H̺̼͎̝̟À͓͈̲͔H̭̞͓̼̹̪̪̀AH̵̠̲̬̘̫̪A̢̞̗̫̟͔H҉̳̗A̡H̡̖̯̘͇̪A̬͈̤͎̝̪͜H̝̻̝͖̫̮͜A̬̼̙͇̤̫H̻̥̳̳A̷͚H̵͇̠̝A̲͚̮̖͖̱H̼̠̝̩̫́À͎̻͓ḨA̞̼͎H̘͇͈͜AḨA͕̼̪Ḫ͇̯̣͖͜A͓̹̙͕H̖̬͚̀A̧H̻̹̯͇̮̀ͅA̻͈̟H͍͇̺A̼̪̬̟̦͎̮H͓̜͕͖̠A͉͉̺͡H̸̟͉̤͖͙̬̰A̻H̴̻̗̻͇Á͖̠̫̜͎͚̣HA̳̟̬̲̩H͉͇̦̤͈A͙H̸̫͕͉͚A̕H̜̤͔̜͓̘̲A̷̟͖͕̳HA̢̫̻̪͙͓̹̙H̖̮̲̟͚̹A͕͕͎H̴̝̤͎A͎͇̙͓͝H͡A͚̦͉H̩̩̞͓̺̺̞A̵͓H̲̗A̠͈͇̼͖̣H̩͞A̢̠H̦͔͖̹͇̠̹͠A̡H͙̥͖AH̬̩͓̹͕͢A̜̝̝H̯̥̞̣̝̭̻A͍̭̫̖͙̠H̷̞͎A̵̩̼̟H̺ͅA̴̘̹̤͕̟̥H̭̱̕A̜̟͉̫H͓͖̙A̞͘H̡A͏H̡̠̟A͓͈̘H̹̪̝̰͘À̜͍̯H͕̣Á̪̩̘̼H̙̬A̟H̵͍̣A̱̝̗̹͈ͅH̞̰͡A̷̞̥͈H̠A̢͕̦̞̟̩̜H̹̖͖̯͖A͉͖̲H̦͖̰̕ͅA͙̻̯̲̭̼̝̕H̲͖̺̘̙̲͟A͏̼̖̫̳͎͙HA͍͠Ḫ̹̲͙̹ͅA̜͉̤HA̠͍͞H̫̼̱̭͎̩͈A̬̮̟̺͡H̗̲͈̀A̵͉̤ͅH͟A̖̭̳̼̗̪̤Ḩ̯A҉̖̬̲͚H̢A͉̬̼̣ D̖̘̳̞ͤͤ͟Ő̰̳̯̎͗̈̋͐̚ ̵͔̜̘̿̊ͯ̓̏ͩN̬͖̠ͨ̆́̒ͫ̇O̜ͨ͐ͩ̍͋Ṱ̴͖̺ͭͮ͆ ̢͚̫͎̪̬͑͌̈ͣ͗D̡̪̩́̈ͧ̋̊ͭȆͩͣL͌ͨ͛̇̌̇ͣ҉̼͙̟̘E̖͔͙̺͖̖͑͒̏ͮ̇ͤ̆Ṯ̨̫̳͇͓͇̗͌̈́̐̈́̍̓͗E̫͚̙̳ͅ ͙̟̹̥͚T͍̱͉̤̙̜̂ͫͨ̇͐ͫ͆Ḩ͚̙̱̗͇̌Ė̞̳͈̠̟̬͡ ̫̞̳̮̤̒͗͆ͦ͊͐͝ͅG̨̱̱̋̅̅̑͛̋̑A̙̳̓̑̄̒M̧̤͚̋͌̓̚E̮͎̒ͩͨ̾̉͑̌͝
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 Solá, 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 Solá 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.
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
𝐔𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 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.
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.
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.
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.
niw yeht semitemos dnA su edisni evil yehT stsohg osla ,laer era sretsnoM stsohG dna sretsnoM -seirotsatsapypeerc- ~

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

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