Emotional Pain Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste Emotional Pain Emojis & Symbols ๐Ÿ˜‡ | ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿ˜” | ๐Ÿ’

Go to tinyhorribles r/tinyhorribles 5 days ago therealdocturner Silence Is Violence The alley is dark. I see my breath in the frigid air. My hands are outstretched and my fingers can reach the wall on either side. Itโ€™s narrow. The walls are wet and slicked with some kind of slime. Children are screaming somewhere in the dark. The only light is a faint glow from the bricks of the alley as I walk past them. The screams are behind me and theyโ€™re getting closer. Footsteps. Like a thousand people running behind me, getting closer and closer. My chest hurtฬธ and I faล‚ล‚ over. The alley is goฬ•ne. Everything is light now. Too bright to see anything. I hear people yelling. I smell soap. I fall back into the darkness of the alley. I run and I can feel my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. The screaming children behind me say my name. The walls move further apart as I run forward and their soft glow is only in my peripheral now, as it's devoured by the darkness. Itโ€™s getting colder. I run into the darkฬต. God, help me. There are lights in front of me. I move forward. I recognize the main street of the town where I grew up. Everything is just as it was from my childhood, save for bรธdies of children hanging from every lamp post. Theyโ€™ve been gutted. Their insides pile up underneath the swaying corpses. Roman Numerals are carved into their foreheads. My chest exploded in paฤฑn. My hometown is goฬถne. Light and pain are all that remain. Frantic voices. My chest is on fire. My shirt is open. I fall back onto Blackstone Avenue. The buildings are on fire. Children with accusatory eyes surround me on the street. Theyโ€™re pointing, at me. The Roman numerals are raised and bleeding. Ligature marks are on every neck, and all of them begin to walk toward me. Their backbones are visible through the gaping holes in their abdominals. My chest is in agรธny. Just before they grab me, Iโ€™m back in that blinding light. Convulsฤฑons and I feel my own spit running down my neck. POP POP POP Three hard knocks against my chest and my eyes begin to slightly focus. Iโ€™m in a hospฤฑtals room. Dอœoรงtorฬก holds a pair of panels just above me, and I can hear my own heartbeat on a machine. Two days later. My wife of fifty one years stands above my hospฤฑtal bed, crying and thankful I pulled through. She stays until I make her go home. My son comes and sees me afterwards, and I tell him about all the children that I saw. I tell him that Iโ€™ve always known what he did to them, but I kept my mouth shut so it wouldnโ€™t destroy his mother. I tell him I canโ€™t do it anymore. I rฤฑsk condemnation with my silence. Heโ€™s got to turn himself in. He tells me he loves me, as he pushes a pi]low over my facอ˜e.
new emotional pain language: English secret past embarrassing secret reddit
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new sorrow grief emotional pain human voice
๐Ÿ™๐Ÿ˜”
new ๐Ÿ™ ๐Ÿ˜” gesture mood emotional pain mania
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new : sad crying anger despair depression sorrow major depressive disorder happiness emotion grief disappointment lethargic mood happy surprise fear disgust emotional pain mania pupil thalamus seasonal affective disorder midbrain paul ekman persistent depressive disorder
โŸก pls note the ai inflicts emotional damage (แต•โ€”แด—โ€”)
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โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ ˆโ ปโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฆโ €โ ฑโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃ‡โ €โขƒโก‡โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โก€โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ ˜โขฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃทโก„โฃนโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃถโฃพโฃฟโฃถโฃคโฃ€โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โข€โกพโ ƒโ €โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โฃ€โฃ€โขปโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃทโก€โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โกพโ ผโ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โข€โฃ โฃดโฃถโฃฟโฃญโฃโก‰โ ™โขปโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃทโ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โข€โฃ โฃถโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃทโฃฆโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโก‡โ €โ €โ €โฃ€โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ ‰โ ‰โ ›โ ปโขฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโกฟโ ปโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโกทโข‚โฃ“โฃถโฃถโฃถโฃถโฃคโฃคโฃ„โฃ€โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ ˆโ ™โ ปโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโขฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโ Ÿโข€โฃดโขฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโ Ÿโ ปโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโ ฟโ ›โ ‹โ ‰โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ คโ คโ คโ คโ ™โฃปโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃพโฃฟโฃฟโกโฃ โ Ÿโก‰โฃพโฃฟโฃฟโ ‹โก โ Šโฃฟโกฟโฃฟโฃฟโขฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโ ฟโ ›โ ‰โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โข€โฃ โฃคโฃถโฃคโฃญโฃคโฃผโฃฟโข›โฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃปโฃฟโฃฟโ ‡โ โข€โฃฟโฃฟโกทโ ‹โ €โข โฃฟโฃปโฃฟโฃฟโขบโฃฟโฃ‹โฃ‰โฃ‰โฃฉโฃดโฃถโฃคโฃคโฃ„โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ ‰โ ‰โ ›โ ปโ ฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃ‡โขปโฃฟโฃฟโกฟโ ฟโฃฟโฃฏโก€โ €โขธโฃฟโ ‹โข€โฃ โฃถโ ฟโ ฟโขฟโกฟโ ˆโฃพโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโกฟโ ฟโ ›โ ‹โ โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ ™โ ปโขงโกธโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโ €โ ƒโ ปโ Ÿโขฆโขพโขฃโ ถโ ฟโ โ €โ ฐโ €โฃผโก‡โฃธโฃฟโฃฟโ Ÿโ ‰โ €โ €โข€โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ € โก†โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โข€โฃ โฃดโฃพโฃถโฃฝโฃฟโกŸโ “โ ’โ €โ €โก€โ €โ  โ คโ ฌโ ‰โ โฃฐโฃฅโฃพโฃฟโฃฟโฃถโฃถโฃทโกถโ „โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โข€โฃ‡โ €โ €โ €โ €โ € โ ‰โ €โ €โ €โ €โขธโฃ‡โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ ‰โ ‰โ ‰โ ‰โ นโ Ÿโฃฟโฃฟโก„โ €โ €โ  โก‡โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โข โกŸโ ›โ ›โ ‹โ ‰โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โฃดโกฝโ โ €โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โฃพโฃฟโ โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โข€โฃ โ ‹โ นโฃทโฃ„โ €โ โฃŠโฃ€โ €โ €โข€โกดโ โ ฃโฃ€โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ ›โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โฃฉโก‡โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โข€โฃ€โฃคโฃ€โ คโ Šโขโกธโ €โฃ†โ นโฃฟโฃงโฃ€โ €โ €โก โ –โก‘โ โ €โ €โ €โ ‘โข„โฃ€โฃ€โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โฃฐโฃฆโฃถโฃฟโฃฟโฃŸโฃโฃคโฃพโ Ÿโ โข€โฃฟโฃ†โ นโก†โ ปโฃฟโ ‰โข€โ œโกฐโ €โ €โ ˆโ ‘โขฆโก€โ ˆโขพโ ‘โกพโ ฒโฃ„โ €โฃ€โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โฃ€โฃคโฃถโฃพโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโกฟโ –โ ’โ šโ ›โ ›โ ขโ ฝโข„โฃ˜โฃคโกŽโ  โ ฟโ ‚โ €โ  โ ดโ ถโข‰โกญโ ƒโขธโ ƒโ €โฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโ กโฃ€โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โกคโ ถโ ฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃ‹โ โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โขนโก‡โ €โ €โ €โ €โ ’โ ขโฃคโ ”โ โ €โข€โกโ €โ €โขธโฃฟโฃฟโ €โขปโกŸโ ‘โ ขโข„โก€โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โขธโ €โ €โ €โก€โ ‰โ ›โขฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃทโฃ„โฃ€โฃ€โก€โ €โขธโฃทโก€โฃ€โฃ€โก โ ”โ Šโ €โ €โข€โฃ โกžโ €โ €โ €โขธโฃฟโกฟโ €โ ˜โ €โ €โ €โ €โ ˆโ ‘โขคโ €โ € โ €โ €โข€โฃดโฃฟโก€โ €โ €โก‡โ €โ €โ €โ ˆโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃโก›โ ฟโขฟโฃทโฃฆโฃ„โก€โ ˆโ ‰โ ‰โ โ €โ €โ €โข€โฃ โฃดโฃพโฃฟโกฟโ โ €โ €โ €โขธโกฟโ โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โกœโ €โ € โ €โข€โฃพโฃฟโฃฟโก‡โ €โขฐโฃทโ €โข€โ €โ €โขนโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃถโฃฆโฃญโฃโฃ‰โฃ‰โ €โข€โฃ€โฃคโฃถโฃพโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโขฟโ ฟโ โ €โ €โ €โ €โ ˜โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โกฐโ ‰โขฆโ € โข€โฃผโฃฟโฃฟโกฟโขฑโ €โขธโฃฟโก€โขธโฃงโก€โ €โขฟโฃฟโฃฟโ ฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโกญโ –โ โ €โก โ ‚โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โข โ €โ €โ €โข โ ƒโ €โ ˆโฃ€ โขธโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโก‡โ €โขงโขธโฃฟโฃ‡โขธโฃฟโฃทโก€โ ˆโฃฟโฃฟโฃ‡โ ˆโ ›โขฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโ ฟโ ฟโ ฟโ ฟโ ฟโ ฟโ Ÿโกปโ Ÿโ ‰โ €โ €โก โ Šโ €โข โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โฃพโก„โ €โข โฃฟโ ”โ โ €โขธ โ ˆโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃทโก€โ €โขปโฃฟโฃฟโกœโฃฟโฃฟโฃทโก€โ ˆโขฟโฃฟโก„โ €โ €โ ˆโ ›โ ฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃทโฃถโฃถโฃถโกถโ –โ ‰โ €โฃ€โฃคโกถโ ‹โ €โฃ โฃถโกโ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โขฐโฃฟโฃงโฃถโฃฟโฃฟโ –โก โ –โ  โ €โฃฟโฃฟโฃทโฃŒโก›โ ถโฃผโฃฟโฃฟโฃทโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโก„โ ˆโขปโฃทโ €โฃ„โก€โ €โ €โ €โ ˆโ ‰โ ›โ ›โ ›โ โฃ€โฃคโฃถโฃพโ Ÿโ ‹โ €โฃ โฃพโฃฟโกŸโ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโ ทโ Šโ €โขฐโ € โขฐโฃฟโฃฟโ €โ ˆโข‰โกถโขฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃ†โ €โ ™โข‡โ ˆโขฟโฃถโฃฆโฃคโฃ€โฃ€โฃ โฃคโฃถโฃฟโฃฟโกฟโ ›โ โข€โฃคโฃพโฃฟโฃฟโกฟโ โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โฃธโฃฟโกฟโ ฟโ ‹โ ™โ ’โ „โ €โ ‰โก„ โฃฟโฃฟโกโ €โ €โ โ €โ €โ €โ ‰โ ‰โ ™โขปโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃทโก€โ €โ €โ €โ ปโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโ ฟโ ฟโ ›โ โ €โฃ€โฃดโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโ Ÿโ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โข โ โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ ฐ
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can ppl stop asking 'where is the beef' because it takes up space on here use a different platform if you want to comment on others Even though most NSFW content is blocked, please limit it before bots and or moderators restrict and/or take down the submissions site please thx bye
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r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 yr. ago Averagebiker21 After I asked the crystal ball to tell me how to escape death, I was very confused as it read "No, thanks honey, I'm full" However, something clicked in my head when my wife offered me cake after dinner...
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Tuesday, March 31st, 2015 | I only go shopping at night The cashier swipes my items across the scanner as I stare at the floor. I find it easiest to get through my anxiety by avoiding eye contact with other people. Thatโ€™s why I only go shopping at night fewer people to avoid. โ€œDid you find everything okay?โ€ she asks casually. โ€œMm-hmm,โ€ I mumble to the floor. Her voice sounds nice. Pleasant. Curiosity wins over and I glance up. The cashierโ€™s head is completely caved in on the left side. Probably a car accident. I snap my gaze back down towards the floor. After I pay she gives back my change in a hand so mangled Iโ€™m surprised it can hold anything at all. Thanking her, I grab my bags and turn towards the exit. Immediately I see a man looking through magazines at the store front. The skin on his face and hands is the consistency of a hot dog that fell into a campfire. Burn victim. I rush out the door as fast as I can. In my car I finally catch my breath as I lean my forehead on the steering wheel. Eventually I look up and see my familiar reflection in the rear-view mirror: my head is blown open in the back. Gunshot victim. Why did I ever wish for the power to see how people die? Credit to reddit user resistance1984
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Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

r/shortscarystories 8 hr. ago k_g_lewis The Shortest Date Ever โ€œWhy donโ€™t you go and grab us some drinks while I find us something to watch,โ€ Sheila said. โ€œOkay,โ€ Brett replied. He got up, went into the kitchen, and opened the fridge. Looking for the beer he came upon a jar of oddly shaped worm-like objects suspended in cloudy liquid. He picked it up. โ€œI forgot that was in there.โ€ Sheila had come into the kitchen and was looking over Brettโ€™s shoulder. โ€œWhat is it?โ€ Brett asked, bringing the jar closer to so he could better examine its contents. โ€œItโ€™s the lips of all the men who have lied to me,โ€ Sheila replied.
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Pansyk โ€ข6mo ago Personally, reading and writing fanfiction has really helped me with my technical skills. When I look over the fanfiction I have written over the years, I can see how my prose and dialogue have improved. All fiction, whether of the fan or original variety, is built off of the basic idea of "making words sound good." And fanfiction is a perfectly acceptable way to do that. However, the way that fanfiction operates in terms of characterization and plot? That's radically different from original fiction. In fanfiction, characters are already established, so even if you're doing some batshit insane Alternate Universe, everyone already knows the basics of what's up. That's not true of original fiction. You need to devote more time to both fleshing out your characters and establishing their relationships with the rest of the cast. Plot often progresses differently, in part because of the time you just spent showing your readers who these people are, but also because fanfiction and original fiction often follow different structures entirely. Fanfiction is free and accessible to anyone with an internet connection. That makes it useful for new authors, especially young authors. Think of it as swimming in shallow water. It's fun! It can help you build up some strength. Anyone can do it. But it won't completely prepare you for diving into deeper water. So, I guess at the end of the day, reading both will help your development as a writer.
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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.
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๐Ÿ’ฆ๐Ÿš—๐Ÿ’ฆ
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r/shortscarystories 12 hr. ago Wellsong Mrs. Johnson's wise decision Stacy Johnson watched the five candles flicker on her cake with avid, fire-bright eyes, her round cheeks dimpling as her smile grew bigger and bigger. Three tiers of chocolate sponge, iced with swirling blue and pink buttercream and decorated with white chocolate buttons: the apogee of Mrs. Johnsonโ€™s baking efforts. Stacyโ€™s school friends bounced in their seats. Theyโ€™d played the games, theyโ€™d watched Stacy tear open her presents, and now it was time for the party to pay dividends. A few of them had had to be pulled back from reaching for the cake before the candles were even lit. โ€œMake a wish,โ€ Stacyโ€™s mum said, fumbling with the camera app on her phone. Stacy squeezed her eyes closed, an expression of reverent concentration wiping the dimples smooth. She sucked in a deep breath, her chest swellingโ€”and released the gathered air in one long whoosh. Mrs. Johnsonโ€™s index finger brushed the touchscreen of her phone. There was a soft click as the phone mimicked a shutter closing, half a second before the last candle went out. Then the electric lights went out too. It should have been bright outside, but only wispy twilight was seeping through the windows. All the children except the birthday girl made noises of alarm and consternation. โ€œI made my wish!โ€ Stacy declared, her voice cutting into the murmurs all around her. Mrs. Johnson opened her mouth to answer, but all she could manage was a soft croak as dark shapes erupted from the corners of the room, huge and twisted, and seized the children sitting around the table. The children screamed, their terror melding into a shuddering wall of sound, but there was nothing they could do to resist what was happening to them. The screams receded as they were torn away intoโ€”throughโ€”the floor and the walls and the ceiling by the shadowy creatures, until the dark was silent and peaceful and empty again. The light came back as quickly as it had disappeared, flicking the room back to normalcy in an instant. Midday sun swept across the balloons and the banners and the cake and Stacy Johnsonโ€™s pleased hungry expression. But all the other children were gone, as if theyโ€™d never been part of the scene at all. โ€œNow the cakeโ€™s all for me,โ€ said Stacy, dimpling anew. โ€œUnlessโ€ฆdo you want some, Mummy?โ€
new birthdaycore reddit wishcore kidwave wellsong
r/shortscarystories 1 yr. ago GuyAwks The Grief Is Always Greener There is no pain worse than burying your own chฤฑld. When my son was first dฤฑagnosed with leukemia, I fell apart. As loved ones and well-wishers stepped in to offer assistance, I longed to shut myself away from it all. Even though I knew they meant well, I couldnโ€™t stand the attention. All I wanted was my old life back with Billy healthy. By the time the cรกncer took my ร€ngel from me, I was a different person. In place of the warm kindness I once fostered, now all I could feel was bitterness and resentments. Nobody was the recipient of this newfound jealousy more than my neighbor Cathyโ€”and her daughter Ella. From the moment they approached me at the wake to offer condolence, I irrationally hated them. Why did it have to be me going through this agonizing loss, and not Cathy? Why was it my kid deprived of growing up, and not Ella? Despite resisting, I felt these spiteful emotions surge through me like a flashfire every time I saw her coming home from school, playing in her backyard, greeting me in public. Before I knew it, I began to fantasize about Cathyโ€™s child, too. I pictured her shriveling up and wasting away like Billy had. They were deplorable thoughts but I couldnโ€™t stop myself from feelฤฑng them. Like some malevolent force, I sensed a pure, toxฤฑc malice radiating out of my mind and into Ella. It was as if my grief had manifested into a living evฤฑl. Thatโ€™s when the unthinkable started occurring. Day by day, out of nowhere, Ellaโ€™s health mysteriously began deteriorating. As Iโ€™d imagined happening, the little girl next door became lethargic, pale and in bed, the same way that Billy had. Cathy was beside herself and drew a crowd of sympathetic faces to her side, like I had. My mind couldnโ€™t have really caused this, right? They were just thoแฅ™ghts, the indulgent thoughts of a broken, grieving woman. But I couldnโ€™t deny the clear results, nor could I deny that part of me felt sated by it. My cosmic venom kept being transmitted to that poor girl. Until finally, like Billy, she passed away. Attending Ellaโ€™s wake, any feelings of catharsis had now been replaced by guilt. There was no fairness I could see, no justice. Just two stolen lives. Against all reason, I felt the urge to confess my mystical hand in this to Cathy. But, as I went to spill my heart out, she confessed to me first. โ€œMartha, I just have to tell somebody: I po๐šคsoned Ella to dEath with cleanser!โ€ I was speechless. โ€œI know itโ€™s awfulโ€ she cries to me, batting her mascara-tinged lashes. โ€œBut I was so jeฮฑlous seeing all the attention you got when Billy died.โ€ โ€œThereโ€™s no paฤฑn worse than watching your frฤฑend bury theฤฑr own chฤฑld.โ€
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r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 days ago 54321RUN "It's not that unheard of for a child to be born with an extra toe," the doctor assured us after my daughter's birth. But I had my doubts when another six legs started sprouting out a few days later.
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https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/
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r/TwoSentenceHorror 5 yr. ago spenceyfresh As death came for him, his life flashed before his eyes. He remembered everything his birth, his trip home and the blank look in his mothers eyes as she forcefully held him under the bathtub's water.
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r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 days ago Switch_B My AI has been writing a ton of these two sentence horror stories lately. Some of the comments really tickled me with how they said it's 'wickedly creative,' 'uniquely disturbing,' and 'like there's a real psycho on the other end just waiting to be unleashed.'
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Wanna search something specific her? be it fanfic or drama, lists of tags on the following sites: https://kitugame.com/tagging https://bestnickname.com/tags
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สณ/หขแถœแตƒสณสธหขแต—แต’สณโฑแต‰หข ยนโต สฐสณโ€ง แตƒแตแต’ แดฐสณแต‰แตƒแตˆ_แดฟแต‰แตƒแต–แต‰สณ_ แต€สฐแต‰ แดพหกแตƒสธแตสณแต’แต˜โฟแตˆ แดตโฟ แตƒ แ‘ซแต˜โฑแต‰แต—โธด แตƒแต‡แตƒโฟแตˆแต’โฟแต‰แตˆ หขแถœสฐแต’แต’หกโธด แต—สฐแต‰ หกแตƒแต˜แตสฐแต—แต‰สณ แต’แถ  แถœสฐโฑหกแตˆสณแต‰โฟ แต˜หขแต‰แตˆ แต—แต’ แต‰แถœสฐแต’ แต—สฐสณแต’แต˜แตสฐ แต—สฐแต‰ สฐแตƒหกหกหขโ€ง แดผโฟแต‰ โฟโฑแตสฐแต—โธด แตƒ สฒแตƒโฟโฑแต—แต’สณ สฐแต‰แตƒสณแตˆ แถ แตƒโฑโฟแต— แตโฑแตแตหกแต‰หข แตƒโฟแตˆ แถ แต’หกหกแต’สทแต‰แตˆ แต—สฐแต‰แต แต—แต’ แต—สฐแต‰ แต–หกแตƒสธแตสณแต’แต˜โฟแตˆโ€ง แต€สฐแต‰สณแต‰โธด สฐแต‰ หขแตƒสท หขสทโฑโฟแตหข แตแต’แต›โฑโฟแต แต’โฟ แต—สฐแต‰โฑสณ แต’สทโฟ แตƒโฟแตˆ หขสฐแตƒแตˆแต’สทหข แต’แถ  แถœสฐโฑหกแตˆสณแต‰โฟ แต–หกแตƒสธโฑโฟแตโธด แต‡แต˜แต— แตƒหข สฐแต‰ แตƒแต–แต–สณแต’แตƒแถœสฐแต‰แตˆโธด แต—สฐแต‰ หขสทโฑโฟแตหข หขแต˜แตˆแตˆแต‰โฟหกสธ หขแต—แต’แต–แต–แต‰แตˆโธด แตƒโฟแตˆ แต—สฐแต‰ แถœสฐโฑหกแตˆสณแต‰โฟ'หข หกแตƒแต˜แตสฐแต—แต‰สณ แต—แต˜สณโฟแต‰แตˆ โฑโฟแต—แต’ หขโฑโฟโฑหขแต—แต‰สณ สทสฐโฑหขแต–แต‰สณหขโธด สณแต‰แต›แต‰แตƒหกโฑโฟแต แต—สฐแต‰สธ สทแต‰สณแต‰ แต—สฐแต‰ แตสฐแต’หขแต—หข แต’แถ  แถœสฐโฑหกแตˆสณแต‰โฟ สทสฐแต’ สฐแตƒแตˆ แตˆโฑแต‰แตˆ แตƒแต— แต—สฐแต‰ หขแถœสฐแต’แต’หกโ€ง แต€สฐแต‰โฟโธด แต’โฟแต‰ แต’แถ  แต—สฐแต‰ หขสทโฑโฟแตหข แถœสณแต‰แตƒแตแต‰แตˆ แต‡แตƒแถœแต โฑโฟแต—แต’ แตแต’แต—โฑแต’โฟโธด สณแต‰แต›แต‰แตƒหกโฑโฟแต แตƒ แตสฐแต’หขแต—หกสธ แถœสฐโฑหกแตˆ สทโฑแต—สฐ สฐแต’หกหกแต’สท แต‰สธแต‰หขโธด สทสฐโฑหขแต–แต‰สณโฑโฟแตโธด "สฒแต’โฑโฟ แต˜หข แถ แต’สณแต‰แต›แต‰สณโ€ง"
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๐Ÿ‘Ž๐Ÿ€
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Jแด‡สŸสŸส_Bแด‡แด€ษด36 I ส€แด‡แดแด‡แดส™แด‡ส€ แด›สœแด€แด› แด…แด€ส แดกสœแด‡ษด I า“แดแดœษดแด… แด›สœแด‡ า“แดแดœษดแด›แด€ษชษด แดา“ สแดแดœแด›สœ แด€s ษชแด› แดกแด€s แด›สœแด‡ แดแด€ส€แด‹ แดา“ แดส า“ษชส€sแด› แด…แด€ส แดา“ ษชแดแดแดส€แด›แด€สŸษชแด›ส. Nแดแดก แด›สœแด€แด› แด›สœแด‡ สœแดœแดแด€ษด ส€แด€แด„แด‡ สœแด€s ส™แด‡แด‡ษด แดกษชแด˜แด‡แด… แดแดœแด› I'แด แด€สŸสŸ แด€สŸแดษดแด‡.
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โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โข โฃพโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃถโฃคโฃคโฃพโ ›โ ปโฃทโก€โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โข โฃฟโฃฟโกโ ‰โ ‰โ ™โ ›โ ฟโ ฟโฃทโฃ€โฃ€โฃฟโ ƒโ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โขธโฃฟโฃฟโก‡โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ ˆโ ‰โ ‰โ โ €โ € โ €โ €โฃ€โฃคโฃ€โ €โข€โฃ โฃคโฃถโฃถโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃถโฃถโฃคโฃ„โก€โ €โฃ€โฃคโฃ€โ €โ € โขฐโกฟโ ‹โข‰โฃนโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโ ฟโ Ÿโ ›โ ‹โ ‰โ ‰โ ‰โ ‰โ ™โ ›โ ปโ ฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃโก‰โ ™โขฟโก† โขธโฃ‡โฃ โฃพโฃฟโกฟโ ‹โ €โ €โฃ โฃคโฃ€โ €โ €โ €โ €โฃ€โฃคโฃ„โ €โ €โ ™โขฟโฃฟโฃทโฃ„โฃธโก— โ ˆโขปโฃฟโฃฟโ ‹โ €โ €โ €โขธโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโ €โ €โ €โ €โฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโก‡โ €โ €โ €โ ™โฃฟโฃฟโกŸโ  โ €โขธโฃฟโฃฟโ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ ‰โ ‹โ โ €โ €โ €โ €โ ˆโ ™โ ‰โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โฃฟโฃฟโก‡โ € โ €โ €โฃฟโฃฟโฃงโก€โ €โ €โ €โขคโฃ€โก€โ €โ €โ €โ €โข€โฃ€โกคโ €โ €โ €โข€โฃผโฃฟโฃฟโ €โ € โ €โ €โ ˆโ ฟโฃฟโฃทโฃฆโฃ€โ €โ €โ ‰โ ปโ ฟโ ฟโ ฟโ ฟโ Ÿโ ‰โ €โ €โฃ€โฃดโฃพโฃฟโ ฟโ โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ ‰โ ปโขฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃทโฃถโฃคโฃคโฃคโฃคโฃคโฃคโฃถโฃพโฃฟโฃฟโกฟโ Ÿโ ‰โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ ˆโ ‰โ ›โ ›โ ปโ ฟโ ฟโ ฟโ ฟโ Ÿโ ›โ ›โ ‰โ โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €
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r/TwoSentenceHorror Deiun ...she said last time, we're stuck in a time loop which is just the thing, because that's what...
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https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/comments/1651tuc/comment/jybjno5/
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โ™ก เผ˜*.๏พŸึผ ึถึธึข.เญงโคโƒ๐Ÿ’แฏ“แกฃ๐ญฉโ™ก เผ˜*.๏พŸ๐“ฏ๐“‚ƒ๐“งโ™ก๏ฎฉูจู€๏ฎฉ๏ฎฉูจู€โ™ก๏ฎฉูจู€๏ฎฉ๏ฎฉูจู€
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"I wanted to scream, but I have no mouth."
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r/TwoSentenceHorror 23 hr. ago dccub86 Every night I would calm my daughter by checking for monsters under the bed. Tonight she told me I didnโ€™t have to check anymore, as blood trickled across the floor.
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r/shortscarystories 1 yr. ago GuyAwks Join Name of the Shame I was named after my parentโ€™s best friend. I never used to have an issue with this. I do now. The name Xavior mightโ€™ve been an uncommon choice for a boy. But it held special meaning to my parents, who insisted on naming their first son after a dear family friend who had always come through for them. After all, it was Xavior whoโ€™d first introduced them in college. It was he who spoke at their wedding. And it was he that helped them move into their home, gave them rides when their car broke down and babysat in emergencies. My parents said naming me after him was honor. Growing up, I only ever felt to be proud to be named after such a great guy. Uncle Xavior was a good-natured community figure and beloved family man. He imbued the name with a sense of warmth and generosity, and because of it, I happily told people my naอ me. Thatโ€™s why itโ€™s such a shame that he did what he went on to do. One ordinary July morning, Xavior got out of bed, picked up a kn1fe and proceeded to butcher his entฤฑre family. He then got into his car, drฮนve into town and continued his kฤฑlling spree. A total of 32 people were kฤฑlled in his murderous rampage before he was finally shot dead by the polฤฑce. The tragedy instantly made national news as one of the most violent spree killings in our stateโ€™s history. The man whoโ€™d been a second father to me was now one of the most infamous kรฏlล‚ers in the US. Ever since that day, being named after Xavior Finch had a very different meaning. Instead of a blessing, it was now my cรปrsรชd. Jeers of โ€œExterminator Xaviorโ€ or โ€œXavior the Chฤฑld Slayerโ€ or โ€œX marks the Mรผrdererโ€ were now constantly lobbed my way at school by other teens, just because of naอ me. Even when I tried to adopt nicknames or use initials, it didnโ€™t make any diffรฉrent to the hostility I received. Whenever I gave my name to people, theyโ€™d clarify โ€œLike the rampage kฤฑller?โ€ or just reflexively cringe at the reminder. I hated it. There was no denying that, at least where I lived, the name was completely tainted. So, after all these years of derisive comments and comparisons, Iโ€™m glad to finally be legally changing my name. I havenโ€™t settled on what itโ€™ll be yet. Anything that doesnโ€™t conjure up images of the notorious convict. I refuse to lฤฑve in the shadows of Xavior Finchโ€™s crฤฑmes any longer. No, I want the killings Iโ€™m going to commฤฑt to speak for themselves. Iโ€™m gonna make a name for myself as a criminalโ€”not be overshadowed by my namesake. Sharing a name with an infamous serial killer is unacceptable, when youโ€™re to be future infamous mass kฤฑller.
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https://www.reddit.com/r/spongebob_piracy/new/
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r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago Perfect__Nightmare Someone broke into our home It was every family's nightmare. My wife and I had the day off work, and we had taken our son out for lunch and some family bonding time. But as we approached our home, something felt off. I had a growing sense of dread the closer we got. As our house came into view, I could see that the front door was wide open. Someone had broken into our home. I told my family to wait outside, in case the intruder was still inside. They obliged, and I slowly and silently made my way through our house. As I stepped into the living room, I saw broken furniture, nothing in its correct place, just utter chaos. Was this person looking for something? Did they have malicious intent? Why our home? Why us? Next, I walked to our kitchen. The fridge had been emptied. Dishes and food were thrown all over the room. What kind of person had broken into our home? A homeless person who just needed food? If so, why had they destroyed the living room? That's when I heard it. Footsteps in the bedroom. The intruder was still in our house. I took a brief moment to be grateful that I had asked my wife and son to wait outside. It was impossible to decipher this person's motives so far. But I was about to come face to face with the person that forcefully entered our home. And I would demand answers. I crept toward the bedroom slowly, slowly. I approached the door, and focused on the sliver of light slipping through the crack. I could see faint shadows dancing in the light. I raised my hand, placed it against the door, and took a deep breath, readying myself for whatever may be on the other side. I pushed the door open and stepped through the threshold with authority. I couldn't believe my eyes. I actually rubbed my hands over them, thinking I was imagining things. There, in my son's bed, was a young girl with curly blonde hair. She stared at me with wide eyes. She must have been terrified. I must have been a few feet taller and at least 100 pounds heavier than her. I must have been a sight to see for that little girl. But she should have considered that before breaking into my home. I called my wife and son to see what I found. "Is that a human, Papa?" "Why yes it is, Baby Bear. That's dinner."
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Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 2 days ago KindaNotSmart The Daily Call Growing old is lonely. Iโ€™m 72, and most days, itโ€™s just me and the silence. Children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews - they all loved spending time with me when they were young. But life gets busy, and eventually, they just donโ€™t have time for someone old and boring. I get it, I really do. But not my son. At 33, he never drifted away. He calls me every single day, without fail. Our daily phone call. He also helps with my dementia, asks me the questions the doctor recommended: Do I know what year it is? What country we live in? My name? Age? Address? Itโ€™s supposedly to keep my mรญnd sharp. Lately, though, somethingโ€™s been off about our calls. Could be my dementia, but sometimes I hear strange nรณise in the background - static, distant voices, whispers. He says itโ€™s just a bad connection or blames the TV. For the past three weeks, my son has been plannฤฑng to visit me. Iโ€™m in Missouri, and heโ€™s out in California, so itโ€™s not easy. But todayโ€™s the day. Heโ€™s on his way. And as always, even though heโ€™s coming to see me, we had our daily call. We went throuฤฃh the usual questions. My name, my age, my address. Then I got anฬงotheฬทr call, so I put him on hold. โ€œMaโ€™am, this is Officer Roberts with the Los Angeles Polฤฑce Department. Iโ€™m sorry to call you like this, but we need to speak with you about your son. Weโ€™ve been trying to reach his next of kin.โ€ โ€œWhatโ€™s going on, Officer? Is he in some kind of trouble?โ€ There was a pause, like he was choosing his words carefully. โ€œIโ€™m afraid itโ€™s more serious than that. Iโ€™m sorry you have to find out like this, but we just got the testฬ• back. Weโ€™re finding out the same time as you. Iโ€™m afraid your sonโ€™s bรธdy was found three weeks ago.โ€ โ€œNo, thatโ€™s not possible. Iโ€™ve been talking to him every day. Heโ€™s on the other line right now - heโ€™s coming to visit me.โ€ โ€œMaโ€™am, unfortunately itโ€™s true. The DNA test was conclusive. If youโ€™ve been talking with anybody, please be aware that the person youโ€™re speaking to isnโ€™t your son.โ€ My confusion turned to a cold, gripping fear. I hung up on the officer, my hand shaking, and switched back to the line with my sฦกn. I couldnโ€™t speak, just held the phone to my ear in stunned silence. There was no sound, just heavy breathฤฑng on the other end. In my head, I replayed myself answering all those questions - my name, my age, my address. And then, just as the panic set in, the silence was shattered by a knock on my door. My bedroom door. The voฤฑce on the phone, now low and distorted, whispered, โ€œI'm hereา‰, MoM.โ€ The line went dead.
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benevola โ€ข 2y ago I like making my main character vulnerable and that usually means hurting him. Heโ€™s a pretty tightly-wound guy and I like to show him with his guard down. Plus the comfort part is usually so satisfying to write.
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Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

Nobody wants to go near me anymore. r/shortscarystories Nobody wants to go near me anymore. People used to like me, they'd sit next to me on a park bench, they'd smile when they saw me, they were completely comfortable bringing their girlfriends and kids around me. Not anymore. Not since that awful murd*r. Now they cross the street to avoid me, and if they do look at me, it's only with a look of disgust. I wish I could tell them all how sorry I was. Sure, nobody blames me. It's not my fault. They know it wasn't my fault. But now, they can't stand to even glance my way. I'm so lonely. God, what I wouldn't give to have someone sit down for lunch with me. I took the little things like that for granted for so long. I had to watch him dฤฑe. They hung him, and left before he was even deแผ€d. I was the one that saw the lรญfe leave his eyes, saw the paฤฑn and desperation on his face, and I couldn't do a thing to help him. Those terrified eyes will haunt me for the rest of my lรญfe. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and save him, point the police to the hangers, and see those awful men put in jail for the rest of their lives. But I couldn't. I'll never be able to. I can't control where my branches bend, and my leaves can only rustle and whisper in the wind.
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ส™สŸษชแด›แดขแด‡ษดแด‹ส€ษชแด‡ษข2194 โ€ข 1 สส€. แด€ษขแด Tสœแด‡ แดแดษดsแด›แด‡ส€ แดœษดแด…แด‡ส€ แด›สœแด‡ ส™แด‡แด… แด˜แดแด‹แด‡แด… ษชs สœแด‡แด€แด… แดแดœแด› แด€s แด›สœแด‡ แด„สœษชสŸแด…'s า“แด€แด›สœแด‡ส€ แด‡ษดแด›แด‡ส€แด‡แด… แด›สœแด‡ ส€แดแดแด. "Dแดษด'แด› แดกแดส€ส€ส," แด›สœแด‡ แดแดษดsแด›แด‡ส€ แดกสœษชsแด˜แด‡ส€แด‡แด…, "สœแด‡ แดกแดษด'แด› สœแดœส€แด› สแดแดœ แด€ษขแด€ษชษด."
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@KarmaticIrony โ€ข 3y ago โ€ข Going to sleep is like putting a computer on standby mode. The lights aren't on but everything is working and ready to turn back on. In fact some processes are probably running in the background. Getting koncked out is like pulling the computer's power cable out of the wall. Things are not working correctly and there is a risk of serious lasting damage or maybe even total system failure. Even in the best case scenario, booting back up will take longer than from standby.
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๐‘บ๐’Ž๐’Š๐’๐’†๐’” ๐’‚๐’“๐’†๐’โ€™๐’• ๐’‚๐’๐’˜๐’‚๐’š๐’” ๐’‰๐’‚๐’‘๐’‘๐’š & ๐’‡๐’“๐’๐’˜๐’๐’” ๐’‚๐’“๐’†๐’โ€™๐’• ๐’‚๐’๐’˜๐’‚๐’š๐’” ๐’–๐’‘๐’”๐’†๐’• ๐‘ท๐’†๐’๐’‘๐’๐’† ๐’‹๐’–๐’…๐’ˆ๐’† ๐’•๐’๐’ ๐’’๐’–๐’Š๐’„๐’Œ๐’๐’š ๐‘จ๐’๐’… ๐’๐’–๐’“ ๐’‡๐’†๐’†๐’๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ๐’” ๐’Š๐’” ๐’˜๐’‰๐’‚๐’• ๐’•๐’‰๐’†๐’š ๐’‡๐’๐’“๐’ˆ๐’†๐’•. ๐‘น๐’๐’”๐’†๐’” ๐’‚๐’“๐’†๐’โ€™๐’• ๐’‚๐’๐’˜๐’‚๐’š๐’” ๐’“๐’†๐’…, ๐’‚๐’๐’… ๐’—๐’Š๐’๐’๐’†๐’•๐’” ๐’‚๐’“๐’†๐’โ€™๐’• ๐’†๐’™๐’‚๐’„๐’•๐’๐’š ๐’ƒ๐’๐’–๐’†. ๐‘ป๐’‰๐’† ๐’”๐’๐’„๐’Š๐’†๐’•๐’š ๐’•๐’‰๐’‚๐’• ๐’˜๐’† ๐’๐’Š๐’—๐’† ๐’Š๐’ ๐’๐’†๐’—๐’†๐’“ ๐’”๐’†๐’†๐’Ž๐’” ๐’•๐’ ๐’”๐’‘๐’†๐’‚๐’Œ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’•๐’“๐’–๐’•๐’‰. ๐“‡ข๐“†ธ ๐“‡ข๐“†ธ ๐“‡ข๐“†ธ ๐“‡ข๐“†ธ ๐“‡ข๐“†ธ ๐“‡ข๐“†ธ ๐“‡ข๐“†ธ ๐‘บ๐’Ž๐’Š๐’๐’†๐’” ๐’‚๐’“๐’†๐’โ€™๐’• ๐’‚๐’๐’˜๐’‚๐’š๐’” ๐’‰๐’‚๐’‘๐’‘๐’š & ๐’‡๐’“๐’๐’˜๐’๐’” ๐’‚๐’“๐’†๐’โ€™๐’• ๐’‚๐’๐’˜๐’‚๐’š๐’” ๐’–๐’‘๐’”๐’†๐’• ๐‘ท๐’†๐’๐’‘๐’๐’† ๐’‹๐’–๐’…๐’ˆ๐’† ๐’•๐’๐’ ๐’’๐’–๐’Š๐’„๐’Œ๐’๐’š ๐‘จ๐’๐’… ๐’๐’–๐’“ ๐’‡๐’†๐’†๐’๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ๐’” ๐’Š๐’” ๐’˜๐’‰๐’‚๐’• ๐’•๐’‰๐’†๐’š ๐’‡๐’๐’“๐’ˆ๐’†๐’•.
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https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/comments/1651tuc/spongebob_full_episode_index/
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r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago RVKony Join The Blind Child "Stรฃbbing." 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 wasโ€ฆmy partnerโ€ฆmy 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 cรปrsรชd on me for snooping in on her business? Why, this dฤ“vฤฑl childโ€” I grew paranoid, checked the appliances and electronics constantly, and cleared the house of any fire hazards. That was my lฤฏfe 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 houseโ€ฆher 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 speakโ€”no, to screamโ€”but a smaller voice from beside me looked at me and whispered: "Poisoning."
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Guerrero de Dios KMApok "ยฟSi Dios existe, ยฟpor quรฉ hay tanto mal en el mundo?" Es una pregunta comรบn, pero estรก fuera de lugar. Todas las cosas deben tener equilibrio. Luz y oscuridad. Bien y mal. Sonido y silencio. Sin uno, el otro no puede existir. "ยฟEntonces, si eso es cierto, Dios NO HACE NADA para luchar contra el mal?" Esa podrรญa ser tu siguiente pregunta. Por supuesto que lucha contra el mal. Implacablemente. Yo soy Dartalian, uno de sus รกngeles mรกs santos y justos. Recorro la Tierra, eliminando el mal dondequiera que lo encuentre. Mato a los monstruos de los que nunca quieres saber. Los aplasto por completo para que puedas dormir por la noche. Ustedes, los humanos, no tienen idea de cuรกntos de ustedes viven gracias al trabajo que hago. "ยฟPero quรฉ pasa con Stalin? ยฟHรฎtler? ยฟTed Bundy? ยฟJack el Destripador?" Bueno, esos son los menores que tuve que dejar vivir. Por equilibrio. Los que destruyo son... demasiado horribles y viles para sobrevivir. Lo curioso es que, aunque apostarรญa a que nunca has oรญdo el nombre Dartalian en ningรบn texto religioso, apuesto a que has oรญdo hablar de mรญ. Los estadounidenses, por ejemplo, tienen su propio nombre para mรญ. Sรญndrome de Muerte Sรบbita del Lactante
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There's No Reason to Be Afraid By Reddit user by whoeverfightsmonster ~ When my sister Betsy and I were kids, our family lived for awhile in a charming old farmhouse. We loved exploring its dusty corners and climbing the apple tree in the backyard. But our favorite thing was the ghost. We called her Mother, because she seemed so kind and nurturing. Some mornings Betsy and I would wake up, and on each of our nightstands, we'd find a cup that hadn't been there the night before. Mother had left them there, worried that we'd get thirsty during the night. She just wanted to take care of us. Among the house's original furnishings was an antique wooden chair, which we kept against the back wall of the living room. Whenever we were preoccupied, watching TV or playing a game, Mother would inch that chair forward, across the room, toward us. Sometimes she'd manage to move it all the way to the center of the room. We always felt sad putting it back against the wall. Mother just wanted to be near us. Years later, long after we'd moved out, I found an old newspaper article about the farmhouse's original occupant, a widow. She'd murdered her two children by giving them each a cup of poisoned milk before bed. Then she'd hanged herself. The article included a photo of the farmhouse's living room, with a woman's body hanging from a beam. Beneath her, knocked over, was that old wooden chair, placed exactly in the center of the room.
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Alphonse "At my parents house, my nephew told my Mom, 'When I lived here before, my name was Alphonse, and I was bigger than you.' My stepdad just kind of blinked and said, 'Hmm, that was my grandfather's name, but we don't talk about him.'"
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A Curious Warning โ€ข March 6 2015 โ€ข RusticEyesore Last night, as I was sitting in my living room and watching a little TV before bed, I heard a strange noise. It was a slow, drawn out scraping across the hardwood floor. Confused, I searched for the source of the sound; and I found it immediately. Someone had a slipped a small, folded note under the door. "What the..?" More curious than anything, I approached the note slowly. I knelt down cautiously and picked up the strange paper. On it were only five words, scrawled on in a crude, messy fashion: "Get out. He is coming." I didn't pause to consider the meaning of the note, however, as I immediately realized there was something very, very wrong with this situation: The note had come from under the closet door.
new reddit note
Cอฌฬ‚ฬ’ฬฝฬ‰ฬนoอ›อฅอคออ’อฎอฬ—ฬณอ–อmอฃอŠอซฬทeอ‘ฬ‡อ‘ฬฅอ™อ,อฉฬงฬฃฬผอ™ฬญ อ‘อŒฬ‘อˆฬฌฬซฬœฬžฬAอจอฎอจอฌฬ†ฬพฬนeอ€ฬ˜อšอ•ฬฑฬฏbฬˆฬ–อ”ฬ ฬฆoองฬฟฬ‰ฬ‘อฃฬฬ•ฬ—อŽฬฑอ•ฬฐอ…อ”nฬ‡อฉอŽฬ อ”ฬฉฬฏอˆaอฌฬ’อŠอŒฬฝฬŠฬšอ™ฬฏอ‰อ”อฬ—aฬšฬอ’อฆอจอ‹อฬนอ‰อšsอ†อŠอฌh,อ„ฬอ‘อŠอฌฬอฬฒฬ™อ“อ•ฬฏ อ—อซฬŽอจอ‹อฏอ†อ˜lอ‰อ…ฬฐฬปอŽอ”อŽeอŠฬ‚อ—อ‹ฬฃอŽฬฌฬžฬฃอ–tฬˆฬอฏฬ€อ‰อ‰ฬฒฬฌฬซฬ™ฬผ ฬ„ฬŽฬพอƒอขฬ–ฬœอŽฬžฬฎฬฐuฬฬŒฬอขฬฏฬฏฬ ฬฌsา‰ฬฑฬ–ฬคฬ  ฬŽอ„อคฬŠฬŒา‰sฬฝอญอคออฏอŸฬญฬฃฬฎฬผฬ–eฬฬ„ฬ”อ†ฬŽอ€ฬฅอ–อ“อ…eอ‹ฬŠอ—อขฬบฬซฬ—อ•ฬฉ ฬอ›อ‹ฬ“อฌฬ…ฬ‡อ–iฬฬ‚ฬƒฬˆฬŒอ—ฬทฬฏฬคฬฒฬ อ™ฬ–ฬฃfฬ‡ฬˆ อฏฬyฬŽฬ”อฎฬทฬญฬฌอ–ฬ ฬชอ“อ–oฬ€ฬจฬ™ฬŸฬฆอuอ‹ฬ“ฬ”อ›ฬ‡อ‘ฬดฬฌอฬ™ฬ˜ ฬŒฬ€ฬ‹อฬ™aอฉฬฟฬ‚rอฃอฎฬฑeองอ„อŒฬŠฬ‹ององฬ•ฬ– ฬ‰อฉอ’อฌอชอฌอ‹ฬŸฬฒฬณอšฬ—aอ—อญออฃฬฬอชฬ—อ‡อ“อ–ฬŸอ‰sฬฬ‡ฬ˜ฬž อ„ฬ‹อฬ‰อฆอ›อขฬซฬฏฬ pอฬคฬฌอ‰ออ–rฬ‘อ…อ™อŽeอ„ฬ‡ฬ ฬฉฬฎtฬญฬซอ‡ฬฉอ–ฬ—ฬปtอฉฬจฬฃอ”yฬ…ฬพฬอ‚อญอ†อฉ อ„ฬอซองฬ†ฬบอ•iฬˆอ’ฬณอ•ฬฏฬฅฬฬนฬบnฬ‘อจอ†ฬขฬคอšฬฒฬฉsอฉฬ”ฬ‹อจฬ‰อฏฬฬฃอ–อ•iฬฬซdอฎฬƒอฏฬˆฬ–eฬ‡อ‹ฬ‘อ†ฬถฬปฬฒฬคอ‡ฬผอ–อ…~ฬฬพอฅฬšฬ…ฬฆฬ˜ฬคฬบฬฎฬฑ~อฎฬก
new reddit gothic goth zalgo
r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago hyperobscura ๐™ท๐™ฐ๐š…๐™ด ๐šˆ๐™พ๐š„ ๐š‚๐™ด๐™ด๐™ฝ ๐šƒ๐™ท๐™ธ๐š‚ ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ? ๐™ด๐š‡๐šƒ. ๐™ฐ ๐™ฑ๐š๐™ธ๐™ฒ๐™บ ๐™ฑ๐š„๐™ธ๐™ป๐™ณ๐™ธ๐™ฝ๐™ถ - ๐™ถ๐™ธ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ๐šƒ ๐™ฟ๐™พ๐š‚๐šƒ๐™ด๐š ๐™ฟ๐™ป๐™ฐ๐š‚๐šƒ๐™ด๐š๐™ด๐™ณ ๐™พ๐™ฝ ๐š†๐™ฐ๐™ป๐™ป, ๐™ฑ๐™พ๐™ป๐™ณ ๐™ป๐™ด๐šƒ๐šƒ๐™ด๐š๐š‚ ๐šˆ๐™ด๐™ป๐™ป๐™ธ๐™ฝ๐™ถ: โ€˜๐™ท๐™ฐ๐š…๐™ด ๐šˆ๐™พ๐š„ ๐š‚๐™ด๐™ด๐™ฝ ๐šƒ๐™ท๐™ธ๐š‚ ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ?โ€™ ๐š†๐šŽ ๐šœ๐šŽ๐šŽ ๐šŠ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š— ๐š’๐š— ๐š‹๐šž๐šœ๐š’๐š—๐šŽ๐šœ๐šœ ๐šŠ๐š๐š๐š’๐š›๐šŽ ๐š ๐šŠ๐š—๐š๐šŽ๐š›๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š‹๐šŠ๐šŒ๐š” ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐š๐š˜๐š›๐š๐š‘, ๐šŠ ๐š ๐š˜๐š›๐š›๐š’๐šŽ๐š ๐šŽ๐šก๐š™๐š›๐šŽ๐šœ๐šœ๐š’๐š˜๐š— ๐šœ๐š๐šŠ๐š’๐š—๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š‘๐š’๐šœ ๐š—๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š๐š•๐šข ๐šœ๐š‘๐šŠ๐šŸ๐šŽ๐š— ๐š๐šŠ๐šŒ๐šŽ. ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐™ด๐šก๐šŒ๐šž๐šœ๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŽ ๐š–๐š’๐šœ๐šœ? ๐™ผ๐š’๐šœ๐šœ? ๐™ท๐šŽ ๐šœ๐š๐š˜๐š™๐šœ ๐šŠ ๐šข๐š˜๐šž๐š—๐š ๐š ๐š˜๐š–๐šŠ๐š—. ๐š‚๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š•๐š˜๐š˜๐š”๐šœ ๐šŠ๐š ๐š‘๐š’๐š– ๐šŒ๐š˜๐š—๐š๐šž๐šœ๐šŽ๐š๐š•๐šข. ๐š†๐™พ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐š†๐š‘๐šŠ๐š? ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐™ณ๐š˜๐š—โ€™๐š ๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐š๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š’๐š ๐šœ๐š๐š›๐šŠ๐š—๐š๐šŽ? ๐š†๐™พ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐™ต๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š ๐š‘๐šŠ๐š ๐šœ๐š๐š›๐šŠ๐š—๐š๐šŽ? ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐šƒ๐š‘๐šŽ๐š›๐šŽ ๐š’๐šœ ๐š—๐š˜ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š— ๐š˜๐š— ๐š๐š‘๐š’๐šœ ๐š™๐š˜๐šœ๐š๐šŽ๐š›. ๐š†๐™พ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐™ฐ๐š—๐š? ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐™ท๐š˜๐š  ๐šŒ๐š˜๐šž๐š•๐š ๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐š™๐š˜๐šœ๐šœ๐š’๐š‹๐š•๐šข ๐š›๐šŽ๐šŒ๐š˜๐š๐š—๐š’๐šฃ๐šŽ ๐šŠ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š— ๐š ๐š‘๐š˜ ๐š’๐šœ๐š—โ€™๐š ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ๐š›๐šŽ? ๐š†๐™พ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐šˆ๐š˜๐šž ๐šŒ๐šŠ๐š—โ€™๐š. ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ...๐š๐š’๐š๐š‘๐š. ๐š†๐™พ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐™ด๐šก๐šŒ๐šž๐šœ๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŽ. ๐šƒ๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š ๐š˜๐š–๐šŠ๐š— ๐š‹๐š›๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š”๐šœ ๐š๐š›๐šŽ๐šŽ ๐š๐š›๐š˜๐š– ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š—โ€™๐šœ ๐š๐š›๐š’๐š™. ๐šƒ๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š— ๐š•๐š˜๐š˜๐š”๐šœ ๐š™๐šŽ๐š›๐š™๐š•๐šŽ๐šก๐šŽ๐š, ๐š•๐š’๐š”๐šŽ ๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š ๐šŠ๐šœ ๐šž๐š—๐šŠ๐š ๐šŠ๐š›๐šŽ ๐š˜๐š ๐šŽ๐šŸ๐šŽ๐š› ๐š‘๐šŠ๐šŸ๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š๐š›๐šŠ๐š‹๐š‹๐šŽ๐š ๐š‘๐šŽ๐š›. ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐™ธ...๐™ธ ๐šŒ๐šŠ๐š—โ€™๐š. ๐™ฒ๐š„๐šƒ ๐šƒ๐™พ: ๐™ธ๐™ฝ๐šƒ. ๐™ป๐™ธ๐š…๐™ธ๐™ฝ๐™ถ ๐š๐™พ๐™พ๐™ผ - ๐™ฒ๐™ท๐™ฐ๐™พ๐šƒ๐™ธ๐™ฒ, ๐™ป๐™ธ๐šƒ๐šƒ๐™ด๐š๐™ด๐™ณ ๐š†๐™ธ๐šƒ๐™ท ๐™ด๐™ผ๐™ฟ๐šƒ๐šˆ ๐™ป๐™ธ๐š€๐š„๐™พ๐š ๐™ฑ๐™พ๐šƒ๐šƒ๐™ป๐™ด๐š‚. ๐š†๐šŽ ๐šœ๐šŽ๐šŽ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š— ๐šœ๐š’๐š๐š๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š˜๐š— ๐šŠ ๐šŒ๐š˜๐šž๐šŒ๐š‘, ๐š‘๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š ๐š‹๐šž๐š›๐š’๐šŽ๐š ๐š’๐š— ๐š‘๐š’๐šœ ๐š‘๐šŠ๐š—๐š๐šœ. ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐šƒ๐š‘๐šŽ๐š›๐šŽ...๐š๐š‘๐šŽ๐š›๐šŽ ๐š’๐šœ ๐š—๐š˜ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š—. ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐š„๐š—๐š•๐šŽ๐šœ๐šœ. ๐šƒ๐š‘๐šŽ๐š›๐šŽ ๐š’๐šœ ๐šŠ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š—. ๐™ท๐šŽ ๐šœ๐š๐šŠ๐š—๐š๐šœ ๐šž๐š™ ๐šž๐š—๐šœ๐š๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š๐š’๐š•๐šข, ๐šœ๐š๐šŽ๐š™๐š™๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š˜๐š— ๐š‹๐š›๐š˜๐š”๐šŽ๐š— ๐š๐š•๐šŠ๐šœ๐šœ ๐šœ๐š‘๐šŠ๐š›๐š๐šœ. ๐šƒ๐š‘๐šŽ๐šข ๐š๐š’๐š ๐š’๐š—๐š๐š˜ ๐š‘๐š’๐šœ ๐š๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š, ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐šœ๐š”๐š’๐š— ๐š™๐šŠ๐š›๐š๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š’๐š— ๐šœ๐š•๐š˜๐š  ๐š–๐š˜๐š๐š’๐š˜๐š—, ๐š‹๐š•๐š˜๐š˜๐š ๐š๐š•๐š˜๐š ๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š˜๐šž๐š ๐šŠ๐šœ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐šœ๐š‘๐šŠ๐š›๐š ๐š™๐šž๐šœ๐š‘๐šŽ๐šœ ๐š’๐š—๐š๐š˜ ๐š๐š•๐šŽ๐šœ๐š‘. ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐šƒ๐š‘๐šŽ๐š›๐šŽ ๐š’๐šœ ๐šŠ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š—. ๐™ฒ๐š„๐šƒ ๐šƒ๐™พ: ๐™ด๐š‡๐šƒ. ๐™ฑ๐™ฐ๐™ฒ๐™บ ๐šƒ๐™พ ๐šƒ๐™ท๐™ด ๐™ฑ๐š๐™ธ๐™ฒ๐™บ ๐™ฑ๐š„๐™ธ๐™ป๐™ณ๐™ธ๐™ฝ๐™ถ - ๐™ด๐™ฐ๐š๐™ป๐šˆ ๐™ผ๐™พ๐š๐™ฝ๐™ธ๐™ฝ๐™ถ ๐š†๐šŽ ๐šœ๐šŽ๐šŽ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š— ๐šœ๐š’๐š๐š๐š’๐š—๐š ๐šž๐š—๐š๐šŽ๐š›๐š—๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š๐š‘ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š™๐š˜๐šœ๐š๐šŽ๐š›, ๐šŽ๐š–๐š™๐š๐šข ๐š•๐š’๐šš๐šž๐š˜๐š› ๐š‹๐š˜๐š๐š๐š•๐šŽ ๐š’๐š— ๐š‘๐šŠ๐š—๐š. ๐™ท๐š’๐šœ ๐šœ๐šž๐š’๐š ๐š’๐šœ ๐šœ๐š๐šŠ๐š’๐š—๐šŽ๐š ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐š๐š˜๐š›๐š—. ๐™ท๐šŽ ๐š’๐šœ๐š—โ€™๐š ๐š ๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š›๐š’๐š—๐š ๐šŠ๐š—๐šข ๐šœ๐š‘๐š˜๐šŽ๐šœ; ๐š๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š™ ๐š๐šŠ๐šœ๐š‘๐šŽ๐šœ ๐šŸ๐š’๐šœ๐š’๐š‹๐š•๐šŽ ๐šž๐š—๐š๐šŽ๐š› ๐š‘๐š’๐šœ ๐š๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š. ๐™ฐ๐š— ๐šŽ๐š•๐š๐šŽ๐š›๐š•๐šข ๐š–๐šŠ๐š— ๐š ๐šŠ๐š•๐š”๐šœ ๐š‹๐šข. ๐šƒ๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š— ๐šœ๐š๐šž๐š–๐š‹๐š•๐šŽ๐šœ ๐š๐š˜ ๐š‘๐š’๐šœ ๐š๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š, ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐š๐š›๐šŠ๐š‹๐šœ ๐š‘๐š’๐š– ๐š‹๐šข ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐šœ๐š‘๐š˜๐šž๐š•๐š๐šŽ๐š›. ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐š†๐š‘๐š˜ ๐š’๐šœ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š—? ๐™ท๐šŠ๐šŸ๐šŽ ๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐šœ๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š— ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š—? ๐™ด๐™ป๐™ณ๐™ด๐š๐™ป๐šˆ ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐™ฝ๐š˜. ๐šƒ๐š‘๐šŽ ๐šŽ๐š•๐š๐šŽ๐š›๐š•๐šข ๐š–๐šŠ๐š—โ€™๐šœ ๐š๐šŠ๐šŒ๐šŽ ๐šŒ๐š˜๐š–๐šŽ๐šœ ๐š˜๐š๐š. ๐šƒ๐š‘๐šŽ๐š›๐šŽ ๐š’๐šœ ๐š—๐š˜๐š๐š‘๐š’๐š—๐š ๐šž๐š—๐š๐šŽ๐š›๐š—๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š๐š‘. ๐™ฐ ๐š‹๐š•๐šŠ๐š—๐š” ๐šœ๐š™๐šŠ๐šŒ๐šŽ. ๐šƒ๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š— ๐šœ๐š๐šž๐š–๐š‹๐š•๐šŽ๐šœ ๐š‹๐šŠ๐šŒ๐š” ๐š’๐š— ๐š๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š›. ๐™ท๐šŽ ๐šŒ๐š˜๐š•๐š•๐šŠ๐š™๐šœ๐šŽ๐šœ ๐š˜๐š— ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š๐š›๐š˜๐šž๐š—๐š ๐šž๐š—๐š๐šŽ๐š›๐š—๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š๐š‘ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š™๐š˜๐šœ๐š๐šŽ๐š›. ๐™ฒ๐š„๐šƒ ๐šƒ๐™พ: ๐™ด๐š‡๐šƒ. ๐™ฑ๐š๐™ธ๐™ฒ๐™บ ๐™ฑ๐š„๐™ธ๐™ป๐™ณ๐™ธ๐™ฝ๐™ถ - ๐™ฝ๐™ธ๐™ถ๐™ท๐šƒ ๐šƒ๐™ธ๐™ผ๐™ด - ๐š‚๐™ธ๐™ฝ๐™ถ๐™ป๐™ด ๐š‚๐šƒ๐š๐™ด๐™ด๐šƒ ๐™ป๐™ฐ๐™ผ๐™ฟ ๐™ธ๐™ป๐™ป๐š„๐™ผ๐™ธ๐™ฝ๐™ฐ๐šƒ๐™ธ๐™ฝ๐™ถ ๐šƒ๐™ท๐™ด ๐š†๐™ฐ๐™ป๐™ป ๐šƒ๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š— ๐š•๐š’๐šŽ๐šœ ๐šž๐š—๐šŒ๐š˜๐š—๐šœ๐šŒ๐š’๐š˜๐šž๐šœ ๐šž๐š—๐š๐šŽ๐š› ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š™๐š˜๐šœ๐š๐šŽ๐š›. ๐™ท๐šŽ ๐š’๐šœ ๐š‘๐š˜๐š•๐š•๐š˜๐š -๐šŒ๐š‘๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š”๐šŽ๐š, ๐šŠ๐š— ๐šž๐š—๐š”๐šŽ๐š–๐š™๐š ๐š‹๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š›๐š ๐šŠ๐š›๐š˜๐šž๐š—๐š ๐šŒ๐š›๐šŠ๐šŒ๐š”๐šŽ๐š ๐š•๐š’๐š™๐šœ. ๐™ฐ ๐šœ๐š‘๐šŠ๐š๐š˜๐š  ๐šŠ๐š™๐š™๐š›๐š˜๐šŠ๐šŒ๐š‘๐šŽ๐šœ ๐š๐š›๐š˜๐š– ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š™๐šŽ๐š›๐š’๐š™๐š‘๐šŽ๐š›๐šข. ๐™ฐ ๐šœ๐š•๐šŽ๐š—๐š๐šŽ๐š› ๐š๐š’๐š๐šž๐š›๐šŽ ๐šŠ๐š™๐š™๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š›๐šœ. ๐š„๐™ฝ๐™บ๐™ฝ๐™พ๐š†๐™ฝ ๐™ฐ๐š›๐šŽ ๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š—? ๐šƒ๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š— ๐š“๐š˜๐š•๐š๐šœ ๐šŠ๐š ๐šŠ๐š”๐šŽ, ๐š๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š› ๐š๐š˜๐š–๐š’๐š—๐šŠ๐š๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š‘๐š’๐šœ ๐š•๐šŽ๐š๐š‘๐šŠ๐š›๐š๐š’๐šŒ ๐šŸ๐š’๐šœ๐šŠ๐š๐šŽ. ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐™ฝ๐š˜...๐š†๐š‘๐šŽ๐š›๐šŽ ๐š’๐šœ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š—? ๐š†๐š‘๐š˜ ๐š’๐šœ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š—? ๐š„๐™ฝ๐™บ๐™ฝ๐™พ๐š†๐™ฝ ๐šˆ๐š˜๐šž ๐šŠ๐š›๐šŽ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š—. ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐™ฝ๐š˜ ๐š—๐š˜ ๐š—๐š˜. ๐™ป๐š˜๐š˜๐š”. ๐šƒ๐š‘๐šŽ๐š›๐šŽ ๐š’๐šœ ๐š—๐š˜ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š—. ๐™ท๐šŽ ๐š™๐š˜๐š’๐š—๐š๐šœ ๐š๐š˜ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š™๐š˜๐šœ๐š๐šŽ๐š›, ๐š‹๐šž๐š ๐š“๐šŽ๐š›๐š”๐šœ ๐š‹๐šŠ๐šŒ๐š” ๐š’๐š— ๐šœ๐šž๐š๐š๐šŽ๐š— ๐šœ๐š‘๐š˜๐šŒ๐š”. ๐š†๐šŽ ๐šœ๐šŽ๐šŽ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š™๐š˜๐šœ๐š๐šŽ๐š› ๐š—๐š˜๐š . ๐™ธ๐š ๐š’๐šœ ๐š—๐š˜๐š ๐š‹๐š•๐šŠ๐š—๐š”. ๐™ธ๐š ๐š‘๐šŠ๐šœ ๐šŠ ๐š๐šŠ๐šŒ๐šŽ. ๐™ธ๐š ๐š’๐šœ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š—โ€™๐šœ ๐š๐šŠ๐šŒ๐šŽ. ๐š„๐™ฝ๐™บ๐™ฝ๐™พ๐š†๐™ฝ ๐šˆ๐š˜๐šž ๐šŠ๐š›๐šŽ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š—. ๐™ธ ๐š‘๐šŠ๐šŸ๐šŽ ๐šœ๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š— ๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐š—๐š˜๐š . ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐š†๐š‘๐šŠ๐š ๐š๐š˜๐šŽ๐šœ ๐š’๐š ๐š–๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š—? ๐š†๐š‘๐šŠ๐š ๐š๐š˜๐šŽ๐šœ ๐š’๐š ๐šŠ๐š•๐š• ๐š–๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š—? ๐š„๐™ฝ๐™บ๐™ฝ๐™พ๐š†๐™ฝ ๐šˆ๐š˜๐šž ๐š‘๐šŠ๐šŸ๐šŽ ๐š‹๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š— ๐š๐š˜๐šž๐š—๐š. ๐™ฐ๐š—๐š ๐š—๐š˜๐š  ๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐š ๐š’๐š•๐š• ๐š๐š˜๐š›๐š๐šŽ๐š. ๐š†๐šŽ ๐šœ๐šŽ๐šŽ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š–๐šŠ๐š— ๐š‹๐š›๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š”๐š’๐š—๐š ๐šž๐š™ ๐š’๐š— ๐š๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š›๐šœ ๐šŠ๐šœ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐šœ๐šŽ๐š ๐šŒ๐š˜๐š–๐šŽ๐šœ ๐šŠ๐š™๐šŠ๐š›๐š. ๐šƒ๐š‘๐šŽ๐š›๐šŽ ๐š’๐šœ ๐š—๐š˜๐š๐š‘๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š‹๐šŽ๐š‘๐š’๐š—๐š. ๐™ฝ๐š˜๐š๐š‘๐š’๐š—๐š ๐šž๐š—๐š๐šŽ๐š›๐š—๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š๐š‘. ๐šƒ๐š‘๐šŽ๐š›๐šŽ ๐š’๐šœ ๐š—๐š˜๐š๐š‘๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š‹๐šž๐š ๐š—๐š˜๐š๐š‘๐š’๐š—๐š. ๐™ผ๐™ฐ๐™ฝ ๐š†๐š‘๐š˜ ๐šŠ๐š– ๐™ธ? ๐šƒ๐™ท๐™ด ๐™ด๐™ฝ๐™ณ โ€œItโ€™s me dad,โ€ I say, tears streaming down my face. They told me the disease would consume his mind, but I was never really prepared for it. I hug him tightly. A part of me knows that this is goodbye. โ€œWho is the man,โ€ he just keeps muttering.
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r/shortscarystories 24 days ago GuyAwks Forget Me Anniversary Not What kind of husband goes and forgets an anniversary? And not just any anniversary. Our 10 year anniversary. I didnโ€™t want to have to remind Stephen about it. I wanted him to remember it on his own, to show me he cared about our partnership. But lo and behold, come morning when I kรญss him goodbye for work and asked if heโ€™d planned anything for todayโ€”he hadnโ€™t. He just read his newspaper like it was any other day, with no hint of reaction. Watching him drive off with no acknowledgement of todayโ€™s occasion, I felt so disappointed. I even pulled out my phone to call up our marriage counselor, Dr Faulkner, to talk through my feelings and book an appointment for us. But, just my luck, he wasnโ€™t picking up. So instead, I swallow my discontent and got our two kids ready for school. All throughout doing my daily household chores, I held out hope that Stephen might ring me to wish me, or have a bouquet delivered, or even pop home to whisk me off for a fancy lunch. Anything to show heโ€™d suddenly remembered our special day was a decade ago. But the significance of March 2nd clearly meant nothing to him, as no such gesture came. By the time Stephen got home from the office late in the evening, I couldnโ€™t hide my annoyance anymore. Not wanting to even be arะพund him, I stormed out to my car in the garage to drive off and get some space. Thatโ€™s when I heard the muffled sound coming from the trunk. Curious, I cranked open the boot to seeโ€ฆDr Faulkerโ€”bound, gagged and terrฤฑfฤฑed. โ€œHappy anniversary, honeyโ€ purred Stephenโ€™s voฤฑce from behind me. I whirled around, my heart aflutter and a wฤฑde, joyful smฤฑle on my face. โ€œOh Stephen, you did remember! And with a personal touch, you shouldnโ€™t have.โ€ Swooning, I ripped the gag off our helpless victim. โ€œStephen, Janiceโ€ฆp-please let me go!โ€ Dr Faulkner gasped in sweaty confusion. โ€œWhat are you doing?!โ€ โ€œHeโ€™s been in there since yesterday,โ€ Stephen informed me. โ€œI knew youโ€™d find your anniversary gift eventually.โ€ โ€œAnniversary?!โ€ yelped Dr Faulkner. โ€œI-isnโ€™t your wedding anniversary in November!?โ€ To this we just laughed, plunging our kn1ves into him repeatedlyโ€”like we had with so many ฤฑnnocent before. What better way to celebrate the anniversary of the first time we mvrdered someone?
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