Go Back To Bed Emojis & Text

Go to DarkTales r/DarkTales 11 yr. ago Sebastian_Wolf Go Back To Bed Short Fiction Mary awakes to the sound of dripping water. She doesn’t bother her mind with the question of where it is coming from, all she can think of are her newly installed hardwood floors. “Mommy, I’m cold.” The little girl cries, standing at the foot of Mary’s bed. The dripping was still there, driving her crazy. “Grab an extra blanket from the closet and go back to bed sweetie.” Mary says to her daughter. She doesn’t even try to hide the annoyance from her voice. Of course, the girl doesn’t listen to her and makes her way around the bed. As her little feet pitter patter across the floor, Mary can only hear the sound of the water dripping onto her floor, ruining them! The little girl crawls into the bed and snuggles up next to her mother. Mary doesn’t open her eyes, but she does put her arm around her daughter, reluctantly. She really is cold Mary thinks to herself. Not for the first time since the birth of her child, she is filled with an overwhelming dread and anger. The doctors told her that the postpartum depression was normal, that it would go away after a little while. Maybe that would be true if her husband hadn’t abandoned her. Now, here she was, four years later and she still couldn’t look at her child without feeling grief and sadness. She felt something new now, as she held her little girl, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Was it guilt? Why would she feel guilty? Suddenly, as she gains full consciousness, a memory buried deep, resurfaces in her mind. It was a cold night, she remembered the hypothermia setting in as the police officer wrapped a blanket around her soaking body. She remembered the sadness in the officers eyes when he told her that they found her daughter still in her car seat, strapped in the van. She didn’t remember driving into the freezing lake, but she did remember telling her little girl to stay calm and stay in her seat as she climbed out of the sinking van. As all of this comes back to her, she becomes fully aware of the cold, wet child she was holding in her arms. “Sweetie?” she whispers with a shaking voice. The apparition begins to turn, her wet hair wrapping itself around Mary’s arm. When she is fully facing Mary, she opens her eyes. They are pure white and water is leaking from them, pouring down her face. She opens her mouth and let’s out a flood. she then makes a gurgling noise and whispers, “Why did you leave me mommy?” Mary is frozen with fear. Her body shakes involuntarily from the cold, she is now soaked from head to toe. The girl whispers her question again but Mary can’t open her mouth to answer. Suddenly, the water stops flowing from the ghosts mouth. She opens her mouth much wider than should be possible and let’s out a wailing scream. “WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME MOMMY?! WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME??” She repeats this question over and over as water fills Mary’s lungs. Her vision begins to blur and she feels water leaking out of her ears, muffling all sound. The last thing Mary hears is a giggle from her daughter. “Now mommy will never leave me.”

THE CONNAUGHT JOURNAL Galway, Thursday, June 24, 1824 LONGEVITY.- Died, last Saturday, at the Countess's Bush, county Kilkenny, Mary Costello, aged 102. Her mother, Matilda Pickman, died precisely at the same age. Her grandmother's age is not exactly known, but it exceeded 123 years, and long before her death she had to be rocked in a cradle like an infant. Mary Costello's brother lived beyond 100 years; at the age of ninety he worked regularly, and could cut down half an acre of heavy grass in one day. http://www.irelandoldnews.com/Galway/1824/JUN.html

Mary had a little lamb It's fleece was white as snow, And everywhere that Mary went That lamb was sure to go. He followed her to school one day That was against the rules, It made the children laugh and play But soon they felt like fools. Mary’s corpse was in a room And oh, what a scene! The kids saw her coated in blood And regretted being mean. Soon the police arrived Stepped over Mary’s heart, And tried to ask everyone How she was ripped apart. But when nobody knew The origins of all the gore, The police decided That it was time to go hardcore. And so everyone was dragged To detectors so they can’t tell a lie But everybody refused to tell Why Mary had to die. Suspects were jailed everywhere Tom, Barb, and Sam Because not a single person knew The murderer was the lamb. June 21, 2017 hellofinah

D̜̻̰̫̝̯̀Ǫ̘ͭ̌̇͌͗͘ ̶̖̇̔͐̕N̈ͦ҉̹̜̠̻̮͍͜Ő̴͎̱̹͑͋̀T̮̫͆͐̓̃̋͒ͧ́͜͡ ̛̯̣̩͈͙̱͖̙͉̐ͤ͠B̫̍͌͌̓̂ͬ͟E̵̜̫̞ͦ͗̆̕ ̶̘͈̊́̾̌ͧ̃̀͑A̸̡̦̦̰̝̐ͥ̊̌ͯ̏̚F̛̘̼̃̀R̦͕̘͓̞̹̬̃̾͂̎͒͟A̡͇̦̱͓̝͕ͤ͛ͤ̈́͘͠ͅI͙̪̞͎̫̔ͤD̵̘̩̙̼̳̉ͣͣͪͨ̌͢. F̴͇͊e̵͍̋a̶̙͌ṙ̴̦ ̸͈͐ṋ̸̾ọ̶̐t̶̡̋,̶̰̅ ̸̝̅M̶͚͊a̵̢̓r̶͚͝ÿ̷̪́:̸̞͌ ̶̱̓f̴̗̐ö̵͖́r̸̛̹ ̵̗̀t̵͍̑h̸͉̿o̵̘͠ů̶̜ ̸̢̓h̷͉̕ḁ̷̅ś̵͍t̵̟͘ ̷̤̈́f̴̳̂ö̸̮́u̶͎͘n̵̮͝d̴̖̕ ̸̜̒f̸͎̽a̶̤̅v̴̼̎o̶͇͂u̶͎͊r̵̗͑ ̶̺̈́w̸̉͜i̷̻̿ť̶̘ẖ̵̚ ̷̞́Ğ̵̝o̸͎͌d̸̡̆.̷͇͗ B̷̧̨͓̺͉̭̭͚̲̬̺̠͉̺̰̪͚̱̪̐́̓̽̈́̎̇͗̐̆̊͝ͅĘ̷̨̧̣̳̭͓̘̞̝̜̘̮̮̓̓̉͋̎͊̌̾̋̔̌̀́͊̋̿͑̕͝͝ ̶̱̲̦̩̦̒͒̆̏̂̋͗͝Ṉ̵̯̬͙̏̂͛̎̽̂̌̒̀̽͒̇̄̾̀̚͝Ǫ̶̰̤̰͎̬̲̙̪͓̯̮̭̙̠̳̙̲͎͆̽̐͋̂͑̍̿͊̓̈́̓͆̃͝Ţ̶̹̲͎̥̮̜̔̃̑̈́̾͆͆̽ ̴̠̬̊̈́̂͋̉̀̎̋̍͊̚Ã̵̡̭̺̺̘̦͈̟̤̳̳̫̖̻͇̍́͋͑̿̀̆͋̓̄̔̔̈̎̅̋̇̓̚͝F̴̡̡̨̫͉̤̖̮̰͓͍̹̠̮̲̲̻͍̑̐̈́̓̄̑͐̿͊̃̎͠R̷̢̨̛̬̤͔̳̭͊̽͛̄̄͒̕A̴̛͈̪̬͎͎̎͌̽̀̓̇̍̊̿́͐͛͂̐͋̓́̚̚͝͝I̴̢̲̯̺̯̙͈̱͊́̿͗͐̋̀͘D̶͉̟̮̋̄̄̽̊̍̅̒͑̄̂̓̌͝͝ͅ

Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 3 yr. ago ChessMango_v1 As he walked into the strange house, he thought the three statues looked a bit TOO realistic. So did the next person who saw the four statues.

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago Hugh_Jidiot The Sculptor “Thank you so much for this opportunity, Ms,” Shelley said. “Don’t mention it, dear,” the older woman replied, smiling. “And please, call me Mei!” The two walked through the halls of Mei’s countryside estate. The walls were lined with beautiful landscape paintings and shelves that held priceless antique vases; a fitting decor for a world-renowned sculptor. Mei herself was a tall and pale-skinned woman who carried herself with an air of grace and dignity. Shelley wasn’t sure why Mei needed to wear a long coat, headscarf and sunglasses in the privacy of her own home, but didn’t question it. All artists had their quirks, after all. “The moment I saw your portfolio, I knew you’d be the perfect subject for my next work.” Mei looked Shelley up and down. “And now that I see you in person, I’m more sure than ever. Yes, you will be my finest creation yet.” Shelley beamed with pride. “I can’t wait to see how it turns out!” “I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.” The two came to a stop in front of a large oak door. “Well, here’s where the magic happens. Shall we?” Mei’s studio was much like others Shelley had seen: a spacious room with high-powered lights set up to face a pure white backdrop. Shelley assumed Mei would be taking dozens of photos to use as a reference for her sculpture. “You’ll find your outfit behind that screen over there,” Mei said, motioning towards an opaque folding screen set up in the far corner of the room. “Go get changed while I get the lights set up.” A few minutes later Shelley stepped out from behind the screen, clad in a beautiful silk gown that hugged her body. Mei, who had been positioning the lights, turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. “You look stunning, my dear!” Mei said with a wide grin, clasping her hands. “We’re ready to begin.” Shelley took her place in front of the backdrop, the lights fixing her with their illuminating gaze. The next several minutes were spent getting Shelley into position. She followed Mei’s precise instructions, allowing the artist to guide her poses as needed. Mei worked diligently; the hair had to be just right, the arms had to be bent at the perfect angle, every fold and crevice in the dress had to be to her exact specifications. Finally Mei stepped back. “Yes… yes, it’s finally perfect,” Mei said. Her grin was almost manic as she looked down at Shelley. “Are you ready, my dear?” “I am,” Shelley replied, taking care not to move her head a single millimeter. “So, where’s your camera anyways?” Mei reached up, tearing off her headscarf and sunglasses. The last thing Shelley saw was Mei’s hair coils writhing and twisting, and a pair of yellow reptilian eyes staring into hers.

r/shortscarystories 1 day ago therealdocturner The Day The Music Died “Why don’t you just let me in?” “No.” The world finally got mad enough to blow itself up and everybody’s gone. Everybody but me and Jesse. Two months come and gone, we been together. I found this house after wanderin’ through what was left. No front door and a nice porch sittin’ on a scorched plain. When I found it, I had a little food left, but it’s long gone now. Jesse showed up the night after. Lookin’ through the open doorway with those red eyes at the only person he’d seen in a couple of years. He kept lickin’ his long teeth. We didn’t talk much at first. I guess in the end, we were just too tired to try anything. Two men wastin’ away from starvation and terrible loneliness. The last of our kind. He moved in under the porch and never left. Conversation was next to nothin’ that first night. He was outside the doorway, and I sat inside in one of the rockin’ chairs I found. I’d rock and he’d pace. It started by singin’ songs out of boredom. Soon enough we got to talkin’. After the sixth night, I put the other rockin’ chair out on the porch for him just outside the door. We talk and sing till the sun comes up. We look forward to the nights. I met the best friend I ever had at the end of time. Tonight’s our last night. Only one more sunrise for me. “You look like you could make it through another day.” He’s eyeballin’ the gun in my lap. He knows I’ve only got one bullet left. “I can’t talk you outta this?” “My belly button’s rubbin’ against my backbone. I’m tired Jesse. You better get under the porch here soon. You can have what’s left tomorrow night.” “Aw. Let me come inside.” “No. I don’t want to go out that way. You need to go. I don’t want you to watch.” He turns and I try to raise the gun. The sun is almost up and I want to be ready. My hand starts shakin’ and I drop the damn thing. It bounces out the doorway. Jesse turns back around and picks it up. “Gimme the gun, Jesse.” “Come get it.” “You know I’m too weak to get outta this chair.” “Then let me come inside.” “I don’t wanna go that way, Jesse!” “Just invite me in, will ya?!” I finally break and give him what he wants. He walks in and I wait to feel his teeth in my neck, but he pulls me and my chair onto the porch. He gives me the gun. “Got no interest in goin’ on without ya. This is the last mornin’ for both of us.” He sits down next to me and we rock as the sun comes up. He starts singing Don McLean’s American Pie and I join in. One last joyful noise unto the world never to be heard again.

They said I wouldn't last 5 minutes in the old haunted house. And yet, here I am still 130 years later.

r/shortscarystories 5 yr. ago iiHighwind Extinction She was the first of her kind. Now, she was the last. It was eons ago that she had first awoken in that bleak and dreary place with neither memories nor purpose. The inhabitants were content to go about their everyday lives and ignored all of her attempts to communicate. Rejected and alone, she retreated to her own desolate corner and spent her days in a daze. As the days turned to years, and the inhabitants grew old, died and were replaced by their descendants, she alone remained untouched by the passage of time. Isolated and driven nearly to the point of madness, she cursed at the heavens, believing her isolation and solitude to be some form of punishment for past sins. But one day, out of the blue, something miraculous happened. She became pregnant. It was an impossible pregnancy. She hadn't had any relations with any of the inhabitants after all. But to her, it didn't matter. The birth of her child would be the death of her solitude. And so ages passed, and her child had given birth to children of her own, and them children of their own. All immaculate conceptions. All untouched by time. She had become the founder of a community. Ignored by the inhabitants, her community thrived. She was finally happy. But alas, her happiness was not to be. Everything changed when the men in white attacked. Perhaps one of her great great great grandchildren had wandered into their territory, or perhaps they had taken offence at some unknown transgressions. She had no idea. The men in white ignored all attempts to negotiate, ignored her pleas, ignored the cries of her children, ignored their cries of surrender. And to her horror, she discovered that even though they were immune to the passage of time, they were mortals just like everyone else. They descended like a force of nature, cleaving through her community and exterminating anyone they came across with extreme prejudice. No one was spared, not even the original inhabitants. Reeling in grief as the men in white surrounded her, she had lashed out, determined to bring as many of them with her as she possibly could. She would fight tooth and nail. She would make them suffer. Now, as she lay in a field of carnage, limbs torn asunder, she could only lament at the heavens. "Why?! Why give me a fleeting moment of happiness only to cruelly snatch it away from me? What horrible sin did I commit?" A brilliant flash of all enveloping white light robbed her of her sight, disintegrating her mangled body and obliterating all traces of what was once her community. She was the first of her kind. Now, she was the last. Now, her kind was no more. ‐----‐---------------------------------------------------------------- "Ma'am, the test results are back. The radiation therapy worked. You're officially cancer free."

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 8 yr. ago thethingthatwill Time travel exists, but it's more horrifying than you can imagine. Time travel exists. Kind of. Hundreds of years from now, future humans are going to think the form of time travel we have is archaic, akin to a manual typewriter or a telegraph. That’s basically as far as the technology has advanced— with the development of the FUTRMSG system, we can send short text-based messages back in time. The current limits can only send it back 24 hours. But through that miracle we can change our past. Avoid disaster, bypass financial ruin. Cheat death. As long as it fits within the short character limit, you can send yourself any kind of warning or advice, the reality around us automatically accommodates the changes you make. But unless it affects our lives, we can’t even feel or perceive reality changing around us. At first, this messaging system was confined within government headquarters, but once the private FUTRMSG company replicated the technology, this miraculous technology was made available to the public. Kind of. When I say “available to the public”, I don’t really mean the public. The system is exorbitantly, prohibitively expensive. It costs many times more than most families’ annual salary to send even one message. But for some that’s just a drop in the bucket, and our society has splintered even farther into the very very rich and the extremely desolate poor. The rich have infinite re-do buttons they can push to create perfect, error-free lives. And the rest of us suffer in the dirt. I’ve obsessively imagined changing my past, avoiding the spectacular misfortunes I’ve had. I once dreamed that I sent a message to my past self, telling my husband not to get on the bus the day a crash ripped his body to shreds. But as the dream started to melt away, I woke up to my filthy, tiny home, with my young son Luke tugging at my sleeve about how hungry he was. Sobbing. My heart breaks for him. Luke is all I have left. The reality is that when my husband died, I spent the 24 hours after the accident frantically begging for money on the streets, among the teeming crowds of unfortunates pleading for help. My city is a sea of poverty and purgatory for the dead, waiting in limbo to be resuscitated by a message from the future. But they almost always stay dead. Tonight there was a knock at my door, and a small, glowing capsule was delivered. A message. From FUTRMSG. What? How could a version of me 24 hours in the future possibly afford this? What could this be, how could it be more dire than my husband’s death? I press my thumb into the white orb as it scans my thumbprint and… Oh m. The color drains from my face as I read the message. I start shaking. How could I have possibly sent this? What… what happens? I read the words again and again and yet they still say: KILL LUKE RIGHT NOW I BEG YOU

Go to Reddit Answers Expand search Expand user menu Back Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 8 yr. ago nichonova When the Guardians Die "You can't do this, Ventus! You know what's going to happen!" I ignored the angel. In a life-or-death situation, the only one who was coming out on top was me. Snarling, my next adversary launched himself on my back, gripping on to my wings with his nails, while a second angel tried to come in from the front. I might have been powerful, but there were far too many Guardians in this particular room to overcome on my own. Frenzied, I looked around for anything, anyone, who would be able to help me. The only thing visible was the faces of hostile angels, all prepared to tear me apart to protect their Assigne- Wait. That's it! I roared, feeling fury surge through my body, as the first signs of demonization began colouring my skin black. Taking a stride forth, I raised a fist, dark energy emanating from every pore, and immediately the angels trying to pin me down froze in horror. "NO!" But it was too late. Breaking the most sacred taboo of the Guardians, I plunged two fingers directly down into the body of one of the sleeping children in the hospital. The weight off my back vanished as my would-be captor disappeared, his purpose as a Guardian lost. "Ventus... what have you done?" The other angels began to back away from me. Some fell to their knees in shock. I didn't care, even as black tendrils snaked around my body. I had protected my Assignee, and I wouldn't be the first to have done so. The nurses call it Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. I call it being a good Guardian. I had big plans for my Assignee. He's going to change the world, toothbrush moustache be darned, and no naysaying angel is going to stop us.

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 9 yr. ago MichaelDj54 "Don't come to school tomorrow." That was the last text my friend sent the night before the shooting. It wasn’t all that surprising, to be totally honest. David, my friend, had a real rough time the past year and a half. Everything just sort of…fell apart around him. His sister ran away from home and wound up murdered about a month later, chopped to pieces in the woods. Pretty soon after that, his mom committed suicide out of grief. Found her hanging in the bedroom, her face swollen and purple from the rope wrapping around her neck. Dad went down a dark path himself. Drugs, but the same effect all the same. What once was a hard working man was a shell of his former self. He never left their home, and became violent and unstable in the past six months following up on this. Poor David didn’t know how to cope, combined with the fact that he was bullied at school, all the way back in the third grade. It was unending torment, and it seemed life went out of his way to get worse. I tried to be a friend to him. I tried to be his shoulder to cry on, to be the person he could talk to, come out to. But I guess in the end, it didn’t matter. Every attempt I made, no matter how pleading it was and desperate, how much I wanted to help him. I suppose, in the long run, there were things I could have done. I could have told someone about the text, but I didn’t. I could have told someone about the gun I found in his drawer, but I didn’t. I could have resisted the urge to grab his sister while she was walking home, knocked her out and took my sweet time killing her, but I didn’t. I could have resisted the urge to break into their house and strangle his mother, but I didn’t. I could have resisted the urge to offer his dad drugs to cope with the pain, but I didn’t. I could have stood up for him all the times he’d been punched, kicked, stuffed into lockers and threatened for far worse, but I didn’t. Or rather, I didn’t want to. There’s a reason for all of this, I assure you. A look into human psyche, a chance to see how the brain ticks. Just a little question…how much grief must a man suffer before he breaks? As I watched the news reports the next morning, of my friends shooting and inevitable suicide, I began to wonder… It takes a bit to break a person… But how MUCH can they break? I look at my phone and pull up my next best friend, Alex. New baby brother, and his dog was getting on in years. Could be any day now. Let’s just find out.

r/shortscarystories 10 yr. ago Defcon7331 Origins of Conflict An ambitious man looked upon his impoverished, war-torn nation with the deepest of sorrows. When he joined the army he hoped to help crush those who seeked to destroy his nation's supremacy. Instead he failed to fulfill his purpose and helplessly watched as 2 decades of economic failure and chaos reigned supreme. But that was about to change. For a smartly-dressed man stood before him. Except this man was the Devil himself. The Devil was fully aware of this man's extreme nationalism, and was ready to exploit it. The Devil would engineer the masses to bend to his Dealer's will, and assist in creating and maintaining a superpower for a few years, but after that, the Dealer would be on his own. But the Dealer refused to offer his soul, knowing full well how short life is, and would not be condemned to eternal damnation. The Devil would not take no for an answer. One way or another, he would claim a soul while on Earth. He thought long and hard, and finally produced these words; "Either your 1 guilty soul... or 6 million innocent.."

r/shortscarystories 12 yr. ago [deleted] A Lesser Evil She was a slender woman, a frail looking thing really. Her mahogany eyes lacked the brightness that a woman of her age should exude, instead they echoed the cruelty of the deeds she had put to the back of her mind, the forbidden knowledge which she could not steel herself from. She was considerably attractive, she could have had any number of suitors at her beckon, any number of lovers to dismiss from her bed, but she had him, and he made her feel like a queen. She beamed across the small office space to her newly wed husband, times were tough, and he had it tough most of all why make things any more grim? "Can we be sure?" she inquired, a flicker of hope living on the edge of her voice. He stroked his thick mustache and turned his heavy head "At the lengths I've gone to, how can I be anything but?" His words held the same weight as his heavy heart "Even now I doubt myself though, even if it is a small doubt." Why had the angel been so unclear? Why had it given such vague clues when the world teetered on a razor's edge? His mind took him back to that haunting night when the uncertainties of good and evil became blurred and ruined and his soul would come to tear at itself. "The beast will be born to the tribe of the lord, his veins will flow with the blood of king David and his living breath shall mock the lamb." he parroted the angel's foreboding words without error as they had been thrust onto him all those years ago. "What else could I do?" the question was aimed at his wife but peeled like a bell in his own mind as he himself reflected his words. "The world might never know what you spared it from, but in my heart you will always be a good man." They shared tears, she moved swiftly to the space beside him on the sofa to embrace him. slowly her lips moved to caress his wrinkled forehead in one final parting kiss. her hand drifted from her pocket to her mouth, fear rose inside her as she summoned the courage to bite down on the capsule Her beloved felt the same fear as he lifted the gun to his temple. Its was heavy, but it could not match the weight of his heart. he wanted to end it before he could see his lover wither away. Twitching and dying from the cyanide she summoned the strength to speak her final words before the hammer came down on that bullet "I Love you Adolf."

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 15 hr. ago sortakindaspiralling He hurt me, I sob He hurt̸ me, I tell them sobbing. He sliced me here. I gesture to my bleeding thigh, hands shaking uncontrollably. And then! My voice shrills, I can’t breαthe. He murdered my daughter! My baby girl! I collapse onto the floor, legs unable to support weıght any longer. I curl into a ball, as tiny as possible. A shaking mess of grief and horror. He k-lled her! “But Mam,” The polıce frowned. “Your little boy is only 3.”

r/shortscarystories 10 yr. ago tarandfeathers It's a boy! "Oh! I know what's happening! I've just been born again and I have only only a few minutes to see through all my past lives. Shortly, I will have forgotten everything. An invisible hand will erase all my memories and I will become an innocent little child. But now, I can see everything. All my crimes. It all started when I murdered my only brother. Then I killed other six of my siblings. Then I slaughtered seventy of them. Then I offered my virgin daughter to be abused by a mob. And then, I sacrificed my baby-girl to become a king. Finally, I betrayed my Mentor and sent Him to death. There is something evil in all my lives, something I cannot control. Oh, I wish to, I have to remember all these atrocities beyond these two minutes! Last night I felt the remorse for the first time and resolved to kill myself and a few minutes ago I was flopping in my own noose for I had betrayed my Master, I'd sold Him to the Romans for 37 pieces of silver. We took the supper for the last time, like friends, as I was being a traitor all the time. And while we parted, hugging and kissing, I knew He was suspecting my vileness. That was the last straw for my burden. Enough with all the killings and treason! Enough with all the schemes and the massacres! I want to redeem my evils! To lead a clean, virtuous life, to be admired, praised and beloved, to leave behind useful and beautiful things instead of pain and hatred. I will change - starting with this next life I have ahead. I will study, I will create! I will build useful machinery, beautiful works of art! I will write, I will paint! I will help people get further and higher! I will invent, I will write, I will paint! Only if I could remember: a painter, not a killer! A painter, not a killer! A painter, not a killer! I will repay my treason by evoking the life of the Master and depicting it in images! I will paint our last supper to show all the people how I had betrayed Him, how despicable I had used to be. I want to change, I have to! I want my actions to impact all over the world and my name to be on everyone's lips.." Hanged by his little feet, the newborn received a pat on the back, his lungs started working and he released a long cry. The midwife laid him abreast his mother Klara, and hurried out of the room to bring the news. The father had already heard the baby's cry and was rushing towards the door. "It's a boy!", said the midwife. "You have a boy, Mr. Alois Hitler!"

r/shortscarystories 1 yr. ago Original-Loquat3788 Stone ‘Thankyou for meeting today, gentlemen.’ The Chief Neurologist said. The Director of the London Underground sighed, tipping a fifth sugar into his hospital canteen coffee. The Scotland Yard Detective could not help thinking he looked like the Fat Controller from Thomas the Tank Engine. ‘Six men have recently taken ill on various London Underground lines. All have presented with Locked-In Syndrome.’ ‘I know what you’re suggesting,’ The Controller replied. ‘There is some sort of infectious or chemical agent present in our carriages.’ ‘It can’t be ruled out.’ ‘Do you know what would happen if the public got wind of this. The Tokyo subway system barely recovered from the sarin attack in 1995.’ ‘We shouldn’t mention terror,’ the Detective agreed. He also recalled with fear the 7/7 bombings that plunged the city into chaos. The Neurologist bit his tongue. They both apparently had short memories. He still had patients with Long Covid. ‘Anyway, I have consulted another doctor, and he informs me the most likely cause of Locked-In Syndrome is a stroke in the Ventral Pons.’ ‘True. But six people in one month, all on the Tube. A pattern.’ The Controller took out a coin. ‘I bet it is not long until I can flip heads six times. It is just random chance.’ ‘I see we are not getting anywhere.’ ‘And I have places to be,’ the Controller said, shaking hands. ‘Do you mind if I take a look at the patients?’ The Detective continued. The Neurologist led him to Intensive Care. ‘God,’ the Detective said, ‘he looks like he’s made of stone.’ ‘Not entirely. We suspect he still retains some degree of cognition.’ ‘The prognosis?’ The Neurologist shook his head, leaving the Detective to study the man. He was young, seemingly healthy, although not of English descent. That word stuck in his head: terror. The man’s phone was on the nightstand. The Detective glanced over his shoulder, picked it up, and brought it to the patient’s immobile face. The screen unlocked, opening on the last image. And the Detective became the seventh victim. … On the packed 17.23 Underground service on the Elizabeth Line, commuters cram the tube car. The Businessman glances at her. She’s young, his daughter’s age, but he still has it, doesn’t he? No. He threads his way through the crowd until he is standing beside her. The girl has dyed blue hair, nose piercings and sleeve tattoos. A bit classless, he thinks, even if they do depict Greek Goddesses. She is wearing a skirt to her knees, and he bends down as if to tie the laces of his brown Brooks’ Brothers brogues. Discretely, he snaps an upskirt. He disappears back into the crowd and looks at his photo . Instantly, he shuts down. Freezes. Collapses. Victim number eight. The girl with the blue hair departs the train as screams go up. She readjusts her skirt. She would not like an innocent person to accidentally see the tattoo of Medusa on her inner thigh.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 3 yr. ago PatrickRsGhost People always made fun of my obsession with collecting statues. Until, that is, they recognized their long-lost friends or relations among my collection.

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 3 yr. ago Yumifire 14,280,786 14,280,786 That’s the number I was born with. A red scar carved into my left arm that shocked all who saw it. Especially when it changed. Yes I was born with a number counting down every minute. Do you know how long that many minutes are? 27 years, 2 months, 19 days, 13 hours and 46 minutes. No one really understood it. Mother made me cover it. It was the family secret and I was never to show it to anyone. Grandmother I think was the closest to understanding, as soon as she saw it she muttered “death curse” and ordered me to never bother her again. What would you do if you knew exactly when you were going to die? But you never knew how? It’s impossible to have something like this and not have it affect every part of your life. Why try hard in school? I would never have a career. Never be normal. Why have a girlfriend or children if I couldn’t grow old with anyone? As time went on, I guess I found that I was just best alone. Had a few one time dates, but I guess it just didn’t work for me. I pushed everyone away, even mother. Finally the day came. I had decisions to make. Should I drink myself unconscious and hope I sleep through it? But I didn’t want to end up one of those bodies found months after death. That’s what led me to go for a walk, areas that are regularly visited. Who knows, maybe someone could save me? I admit I was scared, despite all the time I had to prepare myself. I didn’t want to die With 10 minutes left I went on my walk. Best to avoid crossing any roads. I plotted my route carefully, but that’s what led me to him. 3 minutes to go was when he blocked my path with demands for money. What money? Wouldn’t you spend it all if you were dying soon? He became agitated and pulled out a gun. At least I know what I’m dying from now. 2 minutes to go, I begged him not to kill me but he didn't listen. He’s trying to scare me but his finger is resting on the trigger. It would just take one knock. 1 minute to go, I thought about how unfair this all was. I want to live so badly. So that’s when I jumped him and fought for the gun. Stupid I know but I had to try. And that’s when the gun fired. The blood soaked my left arm and the man slumped over, taking his last breath. I didn’t mean to kill him. I stared in horror at the corpse in the pool of blood in front of me. It took me far too long to realise how much time had passed. I wiped away the blood to check. The number had changed. 170,012 3 months, 26 days, 2 hours and 12 minutes.

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 9 hr. ago Random_Clod The Test "You're going to do fine," my mother tells me in the waiting room. "I did the test when I was about your age; it's something we all have to do." "I know," I say. I want to point out that not everyone has to do it, but I don't. "You've got this," she says. "Don't worry so much." I can't help but worry. It's not long before the doctor comes and calls out my unit number. Soon, I tell myself, soon, I won't be called that anymore The first part is an intelligence test. Identifying patterns of colorful shapes and guessing which one is next in the sequence. Solving a maze and doing some basic addition. The doctor's eyes bore into me the entire time. I wonder if I'm working too slowly. Or too quickly? I'm overthinking, and it's making me heat up. The next part of the test is about emotions. She describes hypothetical situations and I respond with how I would feel. One of the questions is self-referential: if I passed this test, I would feel happy. Though, to me, 'happy' barely begins to describe how I imagine it. The entire test is even longer than I thought it'd be. I'm made to draw pictures of a house and a cat and myself. I read a wordless picture book about frogs and describe the story as best I can. I define a lot of words: 'empathy' and 'identity' and so on. By the time it's over, I feel like I just did calculus, and I'm actively overheating. The doctor wordlessly leads me back out and I think, soon, people will talk to me even when they don't need to. People will thank me for my time and wish me a nice day. Mom is cheerful as ever on the way home. She tells me there's no point in worrying now, as all we can do is wait for the results. I try to be cautiously optimistic, but as weeks go by the cautious part fades. I can't stop thinking about the name I've picked out, imagining how my ID card will look. In my sleep I dream of going to a real school and getting a job that pays real money. Of buying things for myself without using my mom's card. Of officially being her daughter, and someday even being a mother myself. The results come in the form of a video call nearly a month after the test. I rush to unplug myself and run over as soon as I hear it ringing. Mom and I sit together and are faced with the same doctor as before. "Well, ma'am, we've finished analyzing the test results…" Something inside me breaks when I realize she's only talking to my mom, not both of us. "I'm sorry, but Android Unit Eighteen-Five-One-Twelve has failed to meet the humanity threshold." "No," Mom says, to no reaction. "Obviously, as such, its application for legal personhood has been denied, as will any future applications." Random_Clod OP • If you fail the test once, you're 'not a person', and they're not going to spend any more time on you because you're not thought of as something that can evolve the way people do. The make-or-break cruelty was meant to be part of the horror

𓊆🌸𓊇 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓂𝒷 … ! ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ 🧁 …

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 3 mo. ago CBenson1273 I’m Worried About My Fellow Mom-To-Be I loved John, with all my heart; I’d known the day we met I’d do anything for him. We’d talked about our goals, and he’d confessed how much he’d always wanted to be a father. Despite my worries, I was determined to give that to him. I’ll never forget showing him my positive pregnancy test. The look on his face was the first time I was actually excited to be a mother. But the time leading up to bringing our child into the world was miserable. I hated the extra weight I was carrying, my screwed-up balance, how much my back hurt. I couldn’t get comfortable at night; eventually I moved into the guest room for both our sakes. And I got so moody - sometimes I didn’t even want to be around him. There were good moments too, of course. The best part, aside from knowing how happy I was making John, was the friends I made. I joined an online mommy-to-be chat group and met some amazing people. We’d share stories of our lives, our fears, our excitement for the future. It was like we’d known each other forever. But there was one girl we were a little worried about. Mary was young and had a rough home life - her parents weren’t supportive, her boyfriend had disappeared when she’d gotten pregnant. We all resolved to do everything we could for her. We messaged her every day, reassuring her that she wasn’t alone. Most days we managed to keep her spirits up, but sometimes she was depressed whatever we did. We discussed doing more - throwing her a shxwer, donating baby items she’d need. But since she wouldn’t share her location, our hands were tied. Then one day she reached out to me privately. Her parents had kicked her out and she had nowhere else to go. I immediately sent her the address of my family’s cabin - it wasn’t much, but she could stay there while she figured things out. John was worried about me traveling alone so late in the pregnancy, but when I told him I needed to go help a friend in trouble, he understood. I promised Mary I’d come up as soon as I could. When I got there, she was sitting on the sofa crying; she rushed to hug me in gratitude. I assured her I was happy to help. I poured her some tea and asked about her plans; she said she’d been considering adoption, but because of me she was leaning toward keeping it. Ironic. Later, I reflected on how hard these last months had been: constantly wearing a fake stߋmach, feigning doctor’s appointments, kıllıng Mary’s boyfriend, luring her out here. But as I held my new daughter, freshly cvt from the đeađ bödy that had now served its purpose, I knew it had all been worth it. After all the pretending, John would have a real child and our family would be complete. Maybe we’d even name her Mary.

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 2 yr. ago kasuyagi Today, my little sister woke up missing her eyes All the test showed no abnormality, except for her skull x-ray missing her eye sockets. The doctors were speechless. Iris adjusted to her new life, slowly. She took a break from school. Actually, she was always strange prior to this incident. First, she's 10, but could only speak no more than two words per sentence. "Isaac, Hungry." She never showed emotions. I thought she would stopped drawing flowers on everything after the incident. They just got more squiggly. One day, she drew something different. No more flowers, but 'eyes.' On desks, walls, eyes everywhere. Cleaning them everyday got tiring. Everytime Mom tried to make her draw only in paper, Iris threw a tantrum. She mentioned seeing with those eyes. I suspected. She began to repeat. "Mom, fell." I didn't understand it first. Then, she drew lots of eyes mostly at the stairs. "Mom, fell." And weeks later, Mom fell down that very flight of stairs. Since Mom's hospitalized, I had to take care of Iris alone. I took all her art supplies. Her mood got worse everyday. One time when I came back from school, the living room was coated in eyes painted by ketchup. But the worst of all, she began mumbling words you shouldn't be hearing from your own family. "Isaac, dead." I was reaching the limit with this girl. I planned to wait until Mom came back. Right now, I would let her say whatever she wanted. One night, I bought a lamp, a UV lamp specifically. You know, for a party next week. These kind of lamp reveals stains on your walls. I regretted my curiosity. Eyes, eyes, covered every single square inches of my house, written by some sort of invisible ink. "Iris! you-" Then, she was there, shrouded in darkness. "A UV pen? How the-" As she stepped in the living room, the black light shone on her, revealing eyes, dozens of them, drawn all over her body. They shimmered, especially the largest one on her forehead. "Isaac, dead" "Isaac, dead" "ISAAC, DEAD!" She sprinted onto me, screaming. Running across hundreds of glowing eyes in the room. Pushed me over the couch. I tried to run, but she grabbed my ankle. I fell. "ISAAC, DEAD!" "ISAAC, DEAD!" "Y-You monster! Let me go!" I looked at her. The eyes on her was brighter and brighter. And then, The whole room was lit, followed by a loud bang. Iris still pushed me down. I turned my head. Half of the living room was destroyed. As the dust cleared out, something large in the middle of the room. It was a truck, crashed in through the front door right where I was standing before. Then, my face felt a splat. Clear water dripped from each of the painted eyes on Iris. Her voice trembled, repeatedly, "I-Isaac... safe.."

Mary Bell, 11-Year-Old Serial Kıller, Scotswood, England, 1968 - M*rdered Martin Brown (age 4) on May 25, 1968 and Brian Howe (age 3) on July 31, 1968. Her best friend Norma Bell, 13, (not related) took part in the 2nd m*rder. Mary attempted many mvrders besides those. Quotes: “I like to hur͘t people.” - “Brian Howe had no mother, so he won’t be missed.” - “Mvrder isn’t that bad, we all dıe sometime anyway...”