Loricore Emojis & Text

My family Story by Pansyk I died eight years ago. It wasn’t particularly tragic. Or unusual. Just a car accident. I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wife was in labor, and there was black ice on the road. He lost control of the car and I lost my life. It's not his fault. I know that. I’m not cruel. I am not vengeful. If anything, I’m the opposite.. ↓Keep reading ↓ 31ST OCT 2020 u/Pansyk I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wi҉fé was in labour, and lost control of the car and I lost my lįfe. It's not his fault. I am not vengeful. I’m the opposite. You see, I don’t have any family left and I had lost my few friends around that time. When it was time for my funeral, the only people who came was my boss and the family of the man who kılled me. The wi҉fé held her newborn daughter Lily close to her. I hated my boss, and the cemetery was awfully lonely, so I followed the family home. Lily may as well have been my own flesh and bľood. She was sweet, and bright, and oh so very small. She had trouble sleeping if someone wasn’t rocking her crib and her parents were so tired. After they put her to bed, it was easy for me to rock her crib for her. I didn’t get tired. I could help her. As the years passed, Jack and Lori realised that they weren’t alone in the house. It didn’t take long from there to make a connection between my funeral and when I had showed up. And I’d never been malevolent, so they weren’t afraid or angry. They started to burn candles on the anniversary of my dEath day. They left an empty chair for meals and holidays. I really felt like… A member of the family. Someone is trying to force the door. Its Lori’s ex. He’s obsessive. He’s angry. He’s going to hur͘t the family. My family. The thing about ghosts, is that the more offerings you get, the stronger you become. Id been enjoying candles, trinkets, and even the occasional food item for the past five years. I was strong from that. The kn1fe feels warm in my hand. A shock of heat against the ice of my skin. Lori, Jack, and Lily are my family. I care about them. And they’re not gonna join me yet.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 yr. ago Gallantmirth I watched the monster's jagged claws inch slowly out from under the bed. "I won't let him in again, I promise" it assured me as my dad crept to the room.

“Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad." "How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice. "You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here.” —Alice in Wonderland.

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

༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻ LOVING MEMORY ༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻

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

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

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

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

I miss my papa ✨ I really wish I didn't poison him

I found myself opening a door in the basement and then I saw the endless cavern of hour-glasses as far as the eye could see. The closest to the door had the names of my family members etched on them. I saw the sand in my parent’s hour-glasses about to run out. I called them and told them to not get on the plane. The sand in the hour-glasses refilled. —Human_Gravy

r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 days ago chacde3 Halfway into our trip, the GPS arrival time switched from “Midnight” to “Never.” I was so distracted trying to figure out what it meant, I did not notice the truck veering into my lane.

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧. 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 ༊*·˚

Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 3 yr. ago _FallenAngel__ A genie granted me my wish to become the most beautiful woman in the world forever Now I sit here in a museum, frozen in a painting for the past 500 years as people passing by admire and faun over my timeless beauty

The Portraits (a.k.a. The Cabin in the Woods) Famous Creepypasta, Locations and Sites, Nature and the Outdoors / April 20, 2009 / 1 minute of reading There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage... April 20, 2009 / Famous Creepypasta, Locations and Sites, Nature and the Outdoors / anonymously authored, cabins, camping, creepypasta classics, forests, hunters, mysteries, sites, twist endings, woods / 1 minute of reading Estimated reading time — < 1 minute There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After what seemed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night. He approached and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning. As he looked around, he was surprised to see the walls adorned by many portraits, all painted in incredible detail. Without exception, they appeared to be staring down at him, their features twisted into looks of hatred. Staring back, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Making a concerted effort to ignore the many hateful faces, he turned to face the wall, and exhausted, he fell in to a restless sleep. Face down in an unfamiliar bed, he turned blinking in unexpected sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had not portraits, only windows.

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.

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

r/shortscarystories 9 yr. ago sp00kyscary They're just so darn cute I love being a 2nd grade teacher. The kids in my class are so cute and innocent. They're at the perfect age. I used to teach sixth grade, but I quickly realised how that it was a mistake, whence cliques form, the bullying flourishes, and kids learnt how to be terrible to each other. By then, they're corrupted by bad role models, no respect for authority and no desire to learn. No; 2nd grade children are far better! The parents are still making an attempt to shield them from the harshness of the world. They look at me with wide eyes, eager to learn, taking in all I share with them. My favourite day, is Valentine's Day. They make little paper packets they place on their desks to be filled with cards and/or candy. This year, I baked some delicious cookies at home and I arrived early to deliver one to each student. I’m so excited to see the reactions. I smile all morning. I smile as the kids arrive, dressed in red and pink. I smile as they happily tear into their construction paper holders to see what's inside. I smile as they give me an adorable thank-you once they see the cookies I've made them. I smile as they bite into them. And I smile as they one by one fall to the ground, shaking and turning blue. After all, they're at such a cute age. It would be a shame to let them grow up.

r/shortscarystories 9 yr. ago manen_lyset My sister ruined my sweet 16 My sister ruined my sweet 16 It was supposed to be my special day. Everything was going to be perfect. I'd even gotten a custom made dress for the occasion. Everything was going off without a hitch, but then, my sister ruined my life. It started during the father-daughter dance. There we were, gliding across the ballroom. All eyes on me, as my beautiful gown fluttered at my feet. Suddenly, my sister started convulsing in spasm’s. Whilst everybody tried to figure out what had made the noise, the attention hog tore a hole in the side of my dress with her bare teeth. My party guests were on-edge, all because of her! She couldn't even let me have ONE single birthday to myself. She then started foaming at the mouth mumbling incoherently. By then, my friends were running scared. They shrieked in horror, the party was officially ruined, her head dropped, she went quiet and turned blue. I'm going in for surgery tomorrow to have her remains removed from my side… I've been carrying around her useless conjoint self 16 years too long..

Nobody wants to go near me anymore. r/shortscarystories Nobody wants to go near me anymore. People used to like me, they'd sit next to me on a park bench, they'd smile when they saw me, they were completely comfortable bringing their girlfriends and kids around me. Not anymore. Not since that awful murd*r. Now they cross the street to avoid me, and if they do look at me, it's only with a look of disgust. I wish I could tell them all how sorry I was. Sure, nobody blames me. It's not my fault. They know it wasn't my fault. But now, they can't stand to even glance my way. I'm so lonely. God, what I wouldn't give to have someone sit down for lunch with me. I took the little things like that for granted for so long. I had to watch him dıe. They hung him, and left before he was even deἀd. I was the one that saw the lífe leave his eyes, saw the paın and desperation on his face, and I couldn't do a thing to help him. Those terrified eyes will haunt me for the rest of my lífe. 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.

‘Crying isn’t going to help’ by HonestRage I'm a murder the one who killed my wife. He's just blubbering, perhaps a way of pleading, for his life... Perhaps if he spoke to me to reason, it might've ended differently. Perhaps I might've spared instead of murder if he only could talk out of it. But that was obviously not going to happen. After all, he was only just born moments ago.

Remembering the 1977 Evansville Purple Aces Tuesday, December 13, 1977 was a cold, rainy evening in Evansville, Indiana. Fog was moving in in front of a cold front, and wind gusts whipped across the prairie. The University of Evansville Purple Aces, the men’s basketball team, was preparing to head to a game at Middle Tennessee State University in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. But the team had waited over three hours at the airport before their plane arrived. It had been delayed due to inclement weather. The players and their new coach, Bobby Watson, were excited and anticipating this game, thinking it could be the beginning of the holiday turn-around games they were expecting to win... With a 1 – 3 record going into this game, the Aces wanted to prove they had what it would take to bring home a victory, and that their young, optimistic coach was right – in their first season of Division 1 competition they planned to be a force to be reckoned with come spring. And the City of Evansville staunchly supported them! But at 7:22 p.m., on runway 18 at Evansville Dress Regional Airport, all hopes for the team and their coach ended. Within 90 seconds after takeoff, the twin-engine Douglas C-53 (DC-3) chartered to fly the team to Nashville, lost control and crashed in a nearby field. There were 29 people on board, all of whom lost their lives… The hometown basketball team was gone. The horror of the crash rebounded around the city, the state, the Midwest, and the country. The official accident report listed the probable cause of the crash as "An attempted take-off with the rudder and right aileron control locks installed, in combination with a rearward centre of gravity, which resulted in the aircraft's rotating to a nose-high attitude immediately after take-off, and entering the region of reversed command from which the pilot was unable to recover.” The report also stated that the passenger baggage had not been loaded correctly, creating an improper weight balance in the rear of the plane. Of those who were, 14 were members of the Purple Aces basketball team, along with Coach Bobby Watson. Also on board were three student managers, three UE officials, the team’s radio announcer, two fans, and four members of the flight crew, along with the president of the airline. No survivors of the team left, save for one member of the Purple Aces had not been injured. Freshman David Furr, who also served as the team’s statistician, had been sidelined due to an infirmity and was not on the plane that night.. But two-weeks later, Furr and his 16-year-old brother were in a car crash after being hit by a driver. By the end of 1977, all of the members of UE’s Purple Aces were gone. Remembering those who lost their lives in the crash: University of Evansville Coach Robert (Bobby) Watson Purple Aces Players Kevin Kingston, senior John Ed Washington, senior Tony Winburn, senior Steve Miller, junior Bryan Taylor, junior Keith Moon, sophomore Warren Alston, freshman Ray Comandella, freshman Mike Duff, freshman Kraig Heckendorn, freshman Michael Joyner, freshman Barney Lewis, freshman Greg Smith, freshman Mark Siegel, freshman Student Managers Jeff Bohnert Mark (Tank) Kirkpatrick Mark Kniese University of Evansville Officials Bob Hudson, athletic business manager Gregory Knipping, sports information director Charles Shike, comptroller Radio Announcer Marvin (Marv) Bates Fans and Boosters Charles Goad Maurice (Maury) King Flight Crew Members & Airline Representatives Ty Van Pham, pilot Gaston Ruiz, first officer Pam Smith, flight attendant James Stewart, president of National Jet Service, Inc. Bill Hartford, charter flight manager

Harry Ziegland, the suitor who had broken his sister’s heart, prompting her to take her life. The brother shot at Ziegland, who fell to the ground. However, the bullet meant for Ziegland did not strike him. Instead, it lodged itself into a nearby tree. Three years later, Ziegland was working to clear that same location and used dynamite to remove the tree. The explosion sent the bullet flying -- fatally striking Ziegland.

20 OCTOBER 2010 VIA LoveGivesMeHope lovegivesmehope: givesmehope: My best friend died in a car accident on his way to deliver me soup for my cold. Found in the car was also a bouquet of flowers and a card that read: “We’ve been best friends for the last 5 years. Now, let’s be lovers for the next 50.” Unforgettable LGMH

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

December 13, 1977, Evansville Aces players, coaches, supporters and flight crew boarded a chartered DC-3 plane to travel to Murfreesboro for a game against Middle Tennessee. Just one minute after taking off, at 7:22 p.m. crashed, tragically taking the lives of everyone onboard. The only member of the Purple Aces who did not die in the crash was 18-year-old freshman David Furr; he was out for the season with some infirmary and thus was not on the plane that day. Lucky break? Well… Davis Lee Furr, weeks after the plane crash, and his younger brother Byron were killed in a car accident near Newton, Illinois, leaving the entire 1977 Evansville team dead.

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

I Want to Help It was a beautiful morning when I woke up, the sun shining through and the wildlife up and about. I went for my morning stroll, taking my usual route. I stopped by the surface of the water, when I saw the most peculiar thing: a little girl… In there. Couldn’t she breathe? Why didn’t she come out? Panicking, I reached out and grabbed her arms, yanking her out of it and holding her close to me. She started to scream, but then seemed to be choking. I tried to calm her down. “Shh… Everything is fine, little one, I saved you! Relax! Breathe in!” But she wouldn’t. And soon, despite all my efforts, she went limp. Not again! I couldn’t understand. I had taken her out of that horrible, disgusting air, and into the safety of the water. What had I done wrong this time? Maybe my tentacles frighten them. Maybe I wasn’t gentle enough. Human children are so unpredictable. I’ll save one for real next time, I swear.

Giggles Chuck climbed out of the bed and made his way to the bathroom, refusing to turn on the bedside lamp in case he disturbed his wife whom was låyīng beside him. Finishing his busıness, he made his way to the sink, and just as he began to run the water, thought he heard a faint laughter coming from the bedroom. “Honey? Was that you?” He listened carefully, but there was no reply from that dark doorway. Chuck turned back to the sink and continued to wash his hands, certain that it was just his half-asleep brain playing tricks. However, moments later, he once again thought he could hear a faint laughter from the bedroom. He turned off the water, and began to make his way back into the bedroom. The light was off, and in the bed, he could make out the shape of his wife låyīng there. “Honey? Were you laughing?” Chuck flicked on the bedside lamp, and in an instant was looking into the unblinking đeađ eyes of his wife, her mouth sliced from ear-to-ear in a grotesque mockery of a smıle. Chuck felt his heart freeze, before relief washed over him. “Oh, it WAS you!” he exclaimed with a smıle as he peeled back the ̛ bed sheets, stıll stiff from the long dried błoođ, and climbed back into ̛ bed, kissing his wife’s cold cheek before turning out the light. “For a moment there, I thought I was going cRaZy.”

r/shortscarystories 5 days ago DottedWriter My Former Highschool Bully Apologized To Me Today I stared at her as she sobbed on her knees "Alice, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for everything! I'm sorry for every horrible thing I've done to you!" Sophia said as she wept in front of me. I just stared at her as she continued to sob over all of the things she had done to me. She would directly insult or make demeaning JOKeS about me, spread n͟asty rumours about me, manipulate my friends against me, şteal a guy I had a crush on, make horrible posts about me on social media, and even manipulate some guys into doing things like jum͜ping̨ me. She did everything if it meant I suffered in the end. I tried to tell my teachers about this, but they just turned a deaf ear, and I didn’t even bother talking to my parents about it, they were more focussed on their jobs than me. And even then, if Sophia found out I snitched, that would result in an extra beating from her and her cronies. She was behind all of my sufferıng, enjoyed the despair on my face, she enjoyed how much ab*se she inflected on me. So you could only imagine my surprise when she approached me one day and started to apologise tearfully to me As she continued to cry, my eyes started to spark with anger, anger that I had suppressed inside me for the past 5 years after highschool . I had no one to turn to for support, absolutely no one. And she dared to spew her little crocodile tears right in front of me. I had enough of it. I floated around my grave until I was behind her, I stared at her for a long minute, before I plunged my hand into her chest. She tensed up, and some of her bľood splattered onto my grave. I dug through her organs before I found what I was looking for. Her heart. It was still beating as she collapsed to the ground, her hands clutching at the wound at a desperate attempt to cover the bleeding. She coughed out błoođ, and wheezed as she continue to bleed out. I stared at how pathetic and pitiful she looked now. I stared at her as a twisted, evil, and satisfied grin crept onto my face .

The Lights When I was young, I used to sleep in my mother's bed a lot due to the nightmares I frequently had as a kid. I could always find peace under the covers of my mom's bed but I now realize the actual comfort had come from the lights. Though still foggy in my memory, there had always been a pair of two lights somewhere near the ceiling of my moms room; I never thought much of them, at least nothing bad of course, they were comforting, soothing, warm. I began depending on these lights, so much that when there didn't show (only on rare occasions), I couldn't help feeling distraught and never got a good sleep. I never investigated the lights, perhaps if I had I wouldn't be in the situation I am now. Eventually I got older and gradually stopped sleeping in my mom's room. The nightmares stopped and I had relatively forgotten about the lights, until last night. Stumbling to bed around midnight after a long night of studies, I couldn't wait to just hit the bed and sleep; I didn't get much, after all. Tormented by visions I hadn't had in a long time left me paralyzed and covered in sweat when I awoke. Somewhat relieved to be back to my world I was confronted with with a fond memory brought up through a familiar feeling. It took a few moments to notice the two solid lights and by now my eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness. Adrenaline surged through my body as I gripped the sides of my bed. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed something I hadn't through the foggy memories. They weren't lights; they were glowing red eyes. I began to wonder if this was another part of a nightmare, It had to be. Deep down I knew it wasn't, this was all too real. Through lost hope and fear for the unknown a grabbed the closest thing i could, a gift from my mother on my birthday a few years ago, a snow globe from our Denver ski trip. Playing baseball at school I developed a pretty efficient throwing arm. Launching it across the room with my pitching arm the eyes went dark followed by a thump on the floor in front of my bed. Turning on the lights left a pang of guilt in my stomach, why was that so easy. Seeing the creature for the first time up close and knowing it had been around here since I was a kid brought bile up my throat. Its limbs were half as thick than an average humans and where it's skin should have been was a substance unknown to me, dark and leathery but looked as though you could stick your hand right through it, recently punctured with shards of glass. What happened next led me to believe the theory I came up with, as soon as I turned on the lights, was true. This creature wasn't my enemy; nor was it just a neutral visitor. That's when it began, the trampling creaks on the stairs, windows smashing, and above all the worst part was the grotesque shrieks and howls. I knew what I had done tonight was the worst and probably last mistake of my life. Somewhere down the hall my sister screamed. The creature, the one I had killed, had been my protection.

Mothers Illness My mother had fallen ill. She had what my dad did, at least thats what it looked like Everyone cried. I asked if we could take her to the doctor, but we cant afford it My older sister took time off college to take care of her, but we knew how it would end Mother would die like father did Two months later she did After the funeral the cops started to snooping around They questioned me first; they wanted to know what l knew: They threatened me, saying I could be charged as an adult because I was almost seventeen. I cried and said I loved my parents They took my finger prints and let me go. My sister was next They never let her go. They said she poisoned my parents for the life insurance policy she took out on them. My three younger siblings and i couldnt believe it My sister never admitted to the crime, but everyone said she was guilty. That is what it looked like. • The hardest part of it all was getting my sisters figure prints on the poison. Faking her identity to take out the insurance policies was easy Soon Id be going to a new home, with new parents. Its time to start planning my next game.

WIFE "Honey, I'm home!" I yelled, seeing my wife sitting at the dinner table already. "Nice to see you." her voice shook, a plastic smile stuck on her face. "It was a long day at work. Hey, do you mind maybe checking out upstairs? I saw your clothes strewn around...' I shrug, and start to eat dinner. "Of course!" A fuller, bigger smile. She races upstairs, and I continue eating. escarysories It's been quite a while, does it really take that long to put away clothes? So I tiptoe upstairs, and hear panicked whispering. *9111 Yes okay, this man thinks I'm his wife and.. ohmygod he's coming! My address j.* "What's going on, honey?" She screams as I impale the knife into her chest.

Horror Short Story: The Accident In this horror short story, a man tries to cope with what he has done. Written by: Reddit user Minnboy Halverson sat in his dark living room. He hadn’t moved for over an hour. The accident earlier that evening kept playing over and over in his mind. The light turned red, but he was in a hurry and accelerated. An orange blur came from his right and in a split second there was a violent jolt, then the bicyclist rolled across his hood and fell out of sight on the pavement. Horns blared angrily and he panicked, stepping on the gas and screeching away from the chaos into the darkness, shaken and keeping an eye on his rearview mirror until he got home. Why did you run? He’d never committed a crime before this and punished himself by imagining years in jail, his career gone, his family gone, his future gone. Why not just go to the police right now? Then someone tapped on the front door and his world suddenly crumbled away beneath him. They found me. There was nothing he could do but answer it. Running would only make matters worse. Trembling, he got up, went to the door and opened it. A police officer stood under the porch light. “Mr. Halverson?” asked the grim officer. He let out a defeated sigh. “Yes. Let me —”I am terribly sorry, but I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your son’s bike was struck by a hit and run driver this evening. He died at the scene. I’m very sorry for your loss..."

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

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

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

r/TwoSentenceHorror 8 mo. ago homestarmy_recruiter "Turn back," I begged my friend as he drove, sirens wailing in the background. He seemed desperate not to, at first, but after I got one of his earplugs out, he agreed that their voices were too beautiful to ignore.

A White Lie I'm the last one here. Those things have killed everyone else. Those things with the huge wings, with the beady eyes, with the sharp claws....every time I close my eyes see my coworkers being ripped apart. A few of us made it to the building here, but even here we aren't safe. I watched them get picked off one by one, screaming as they fought against death. I tried to stop it I swear I did I tried... Now I'm running through the building to the main power center. With no one else to ask, I'm tasked with pressing one of these buttons. Either will press the red button, or the green button. Supposedly, one button will turn the power doors back on, protecting us from whatever that shrieking, hungry, and angry...thing is outside. That's the red button. The other button is green and opens the opposite side power door, and I can only imagine what might be out there. Why had I agreed to come and research in this lab? I think as I run, hearing the screeches behind me. Oh .... Why did I lie on my application? Why didn't I admit I was color blind?

I was starving and lost in the woods until I found a hiker; I'm full now but I just wished she hadn���t screamed so loud.

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

Not only have we implanted a lifetime of human memories into this rat but we can now monitor what it's thinking. It appears to think it's reading the second line of a two sentence story on-line right now..

r/shortscarystories 23 hr. ago captain-howdy2323 Unknown Stranger Oh my! I can hear him moving around down stairs. Can I remember if I heard him come inside? Idk. I must have because I've armed myself. I cower away in this closet. But I can't remember any of that. I must be in shock. Oh my heart is racing. I hear him coming up the stairs. It won't be long until he finds me. I can already see what everyone will be saying. "Man found in house", "The bloodbath". He's right outside the room. I'm breathing so heavily. I'm sure he can hear me. Please, stop shaking. Please, nerves calm down. He's opening the door. This is it. Finally. I've been waiting in his closet for hours.

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

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

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

“I came home from a hard day of work only to find my girlfriend holding our child. I didn’t know which was more horrifying, seeing my dead girlfriend and child, or knowing someone put them there.” -Edwin Reifer

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

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

r/TwoSentenceHorror 1 day ago dreamisland123456 ᶜᵒⁿˢᶦˢᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ᵍᵒʳᵉ "I'm getting my revenge!" She screamed, preparing to plunge the kn1fe into my chest. But it's to bad she has the wrong twin.

January 2, 2013 Messages I think we should see other people ... Roses are red Violets are blue U really thought I would cry over u? I said I loved you You thought that was true well guess what player You just got played to smartphOWNED.com

Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 days ago steelerb56 ᴴᴼᴿᴿᴼᴿ ˢᵀᴼᴿʸ. The doomsday preacher at my mom's church predicted the end in 2 months and I shook my head and chuckled. I totally forgot that was two months ago as the oncoming tractor trailer veered into my lane.

────────▓▓▓▓▓▓▓────────────▒▒▒▒▒▒ ──────▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓────────▒▒░░░░░░▒▒ ────▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓────▒▒░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒ ───▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒ ──▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒ ──▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒ ─▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒ ▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░▒ ▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▀▀▀▀▀███▄▄▒▒▒░░░▄▄▄██▀▀▀▀▀░░░░░░▒ ▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▄▀████▀███▄▒░▄████▀████▄░░░░░░░▒ ▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒█──▀█████▀─▌▒░▐──▀█████▀─█░░░░░░▒ ▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▀▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▀▒▒░░▀▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▀░░░░░░░▒ ─▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒ ──▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒ ───▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▀▀▀░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒ ────▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒ ─────▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄░░░░░░░░▒▒ ──────▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▄▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▄░░░░░▒▒ ───────▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▀▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░▀░░░▒▒ ────────▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░▒▒ ──────────▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░▒▒ ───────────▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░▒▒ ─────────────▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░▒▒ ───────────────▓▓▒▒▒▒░░░░▒▒ ────────────────▓▓▒▒▒░░░▒▒ ──────────────────▓▓▒░▒▒ ───────────────────▓▒░▒ ────────────────────▓▒

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

I'm 17 and recently lost my mom in a car accident. As I was rambling on and crying about how she wouldn't be there for my wedding or the birth of my children, my fiance lifted up my head and simply said, "Baby, don't worry. She'll have the perfect view." Sam, you GMH. June 24th, 2010, 12:29 AM

~ -creepypastastories- Monsters and Ghosts Monsters are real, also ghosts They live inside us And sometimes they win

ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᴼⁿ! ⁽ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ⁻ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵘᵖ⸴ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⁻ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ⁾ 'ᴬʳᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᵃᵈʸ?' ᴵ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ⸴ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃʳʳʸ ᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵖˡᵃⁿ‧ ᴴⁱ⸴ ᵐʸ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ ⁱˢ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᴹʸ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ⁱˢ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵐʸ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵍᵉʳ ⁱˢˢᵘᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵈᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ⸴ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ‧ ᴵ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ ˢⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵃᵖ ᵈᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵒᵛⁱᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ ᵂᵉ ᶜᵘᵈᵈˡᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵇᵉᵈᵗⁱᵐᵉ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵍⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵐᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰⁱⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵒʷ ʷᵉᵃᵏⁿᵉˢˢ⸴ ⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵖˡᵃⁿ ᶠᵃⁱˡᵘʳᵉ ʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵍⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵃ ᵇʳⁱᵉᶠ ˢᵉⁿᵗᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ʷʳᵒⁿᵍ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ˢᵒ ᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵒ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ʳᵃⁿ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᶜʳʸⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᴵ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᶜʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴸᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ‧‧‧" "ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʰᵘᵐⁱˡⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ˢᵒ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ!" ᴴᵉ ʸᵉˡˡᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵃʳᶜᵃˢᵗⁱᶜ ʷⁱᶠᵉ‧ ᴵ ʷʰⁱᵐᵖᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵗᵉʳˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᴵ ˡⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʰᵘᵍᵍᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ‧ ᔆᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗ ⁽ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ʰᵉ ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵃⁿᵍʳʸ⁾ ᴹᵃᵈᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵐᵃᵈ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ ᵃᵗ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ! ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ᵉⁿᵉᵐⁱᵉˢ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˢᵒ ʰᵘʳᵗ‧ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᵗˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᵗˢ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˡᵉᵛᵉˡ! ᴵ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʷⁱⁿᵈᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ⸴ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵐʸ ᵐᵃⁿ! ᴵ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʷⁱⁿᵈᵒʷ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵖᵉᵉᵏᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵃ ʲᵒᵏᵉ!" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢʰᵉᵈ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ‧ ᵂʰʸ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉ ᵖⁱᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ˢⁱᶻᵉ? ᔆᵘʳᵉ⸴ ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ʳⁱᵛᵃˡˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᵘʳˢ ⁱˢ ˢˡᵒʷ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃᵐ ᶠᵘʳⁱᵒᵘˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʲᵘᵐᵖᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᴵ ᵍʳᵒʷˡᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵒᶠ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ‧ ᴵ'ˡˡ ˢʰᵒʷ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ ᵃ ʲᵒᵏᵉ! ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈⁿᵗ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴵ ˢⁿᵘᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ‧ ᴵ ⁱᵍⁿᵒʳᵉᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉ ᵐᵉ‧ ᴹʸ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ᴳᵃʳʸ'ˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵖᵉᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵒⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉʷʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵉᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵉʳᵐˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ; ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ⁱᶠ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵒʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧ ᴺᵒ⸴ ᴵ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵍᵉᵗ ˢᵃᵗⁱˢᶠᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒⁱᵗˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐᵃʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵃᵐᵒʳᵖʰᵒᵘˢ ˢʰᵃᵖᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐˢ ⁿᵒʳ ᶜˡᵃʷ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵉⁿᵉᵐⁱᵉˢ⸴ ˢᵒ ʷʰʸ ⁿᵒᵗ‧‧‧ ᴱʸᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉʷʰᵃᵗ ʳᵉᵈ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵉᵐᵉʳᵍᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱˢ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ⸴ ᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵛ ˢᶜʳᵉᵉⁿ‧‧‧" ᴴᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵉˣʰᵃᵘˢᵗᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸˢ ᵒʳᵈᵉᵃˡ‧ ᴴᵉ ʰᵉˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ᵃˢ ᴾᵉʳᶜʰ ᴾᵉʳᵏⁱⁿˢ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒᵒᵗᵃᵍᵉ ˢᵉᵍᵐᵉⁿᵗ ⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᴮⁱᵏⁱⁿⁱ ᴮᵒᵗᵗᵒᵐ ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ‧ "ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ⸴ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵖᵒᵖᵘˡᵃʳ ᵇᵉˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ⸴ ⁱˢ ⁱⁿᵈᵉᶠⁱⁿⁱᵗᵉˡʸ ᶜˡᵒˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ʰⁱˢ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃˡˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʷʰᵃᵗ ˢᵉᵉᵐˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˢᶜʳᵃᵗᶜʰᵉˢ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᵛᵉʳ‧‧‧" ᴵ ᵗᵃᵍᵍᵉᵈ ᵐʸ ᵗᵃⁱˡ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ˢᵃᵗ ᵘᵖ ˢᵗʳᵃⁱᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉʷˢ‧ "ᴴᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃⁿ ᵘⁿᵏⁿᵒʷⁿ ᵇˡᵘʳ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵃʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ ˢˡⁱᵐᵉ ᵃᵗᵗᵃᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵖʳᵉˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ᶜʰᵃʳᵍᵉˢ ᵈᵘᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵈ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵒⁿᵉʸ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᶜʳᵉᵉⁿ‧ "ᔆᵖᵒᵗ⸴ ᵈⁱᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒ‧‧‧" ᴵ ʲᵘᵐᵖᵉᵈ ᵉˣᶜⁱᵗᵉᵈˡʸ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵐᵉ⸴ ᵃˢ ᴵ ⁽ᵗᵉᵐᵖᵒʳᵃʳⁱˡʸ⁾ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʳⁱᵛᵃˡ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᶠᵒʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵇᵒᵈʸ ᵐᵉˢˢᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐʸ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ‧ ᴬⁿʸᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵈⁱˢˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱˢ ᵃⁿ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ᵇᵒᵒᵏ‧

Just today, I found out the real reason of my parents’ deaths‎ when I was 10. When our car lost ıt's brakes and was going to crash, they tried to protect me at the last minute. Their bødies were found, covering me while I was non-conscious. Their never ending love truly GMH.

The Never Ending Road. In Corona, California there once was a road known by most of the elder locals as the never ending road. Specifically, the road’s true name was Lester Road. However, over 70 years ago, Lester Road was an unlit road that people claimed became a never ending road when driven at night. The people who made such a drive were never seen or heard from again. The legend became so well-known that people refused to even drive Lester Road during the day. Perpetuation of the legend convinced local law enforcement to investigate around the 1960’s. Lester Road took a sharp left turn at it's end, and there were no guard rails. Beyond the curve lay a canyon, and on the other side of the canyon was another road that lined up so well with Lester Road that when viewed from the correct angle, especially at night, the canyon vanished from sight, and the road seemed to continue on up and over the hill on the other side of the canyon. Upon investigation of the canyon, dozens of cars were found, fallen to their doom, with the decomposing bødies of the victims still strapped to their seats. Law enforcement tried to cover up their findings. They closed down Lester road, letting the trees grow where the road once stood and letting the bødies remain in their final resting place.

The End “The End is nigh” “Agency Officials: Spend this time with your loved ones” “Citizens prepare for the Inevitable” The newspapers were all the same. His mother whisked him away from the news stand and into her arms, but not before he read the last headline. “The Invasion: What could We have done?” “Mommy, what’s happening?” he whispered. She pressed his warm, chubby hand to her wet cheek and let out a quiet sob. “The humans. They found us.”

1 day ago u/Sticky_Cheetos He handed me a box and said, “If you press this button, you get $100,000, but it takes one year off of your lįfe.” I pressed it once, and everything went dark̵.

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

r/TwoSentenceHorror 34 min. ago MistStarz “Sweetie, dolls don’t move on ıt's own,” mother comforted her terrıfıed daughter. “So just sit sti̕ll while I stitch your prettɥ lıttle møuth up.”

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

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

r/TwoSentenceHorror 26 days ago Prestigious_Salad_85 I screamed in excitement as I received an email stating that my application was accepted. The rest of my family cried out in despair knowing they weren’t selected to board the last ship leaving our dying planet behind.

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

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

r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 yr. ago mydadsnameisharold "Yes, the blood means you're a woman now." Too groggy to make sense of the pain between his legs, he managed to ask, "... what did you just do to me?"

Practice Makes Perfect by reddit user whiteddit "You're not even trying. Again!" My calloused hands dance across the music. A finger slips and the tune groans. "Your father would be ashamed. Again!" My blurred vision falls from the yellowed sheet music to the keys. I miss another note. "Faster. Again!" I stumble once more as the tempo increases. She rises from the bench. "Absolutely worthless. You're done for today." I hang my head in shame. I know what's coming. The floorboards creak as Mother returns from the kitchen. I wince. It's hard enough to play with three fingers. It'll be even harder with two.

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

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

‘First Words‘ by alatus_corruptrix Any day now, she’ll say her first words. My wife and I have been playfully betting on what she’ll say first – ‘Mamá’ or ‘Daddy.’ I can hear my wife crooning over and over while she feeds her ‘Mama’s little girl! Mamá loves you so much!’ Sometimes, she’s not even subtle about it – ‘Say ‘Mamá!’ Come on! ‘Mamá!” I don’t mind it though. I still believe I’ll win. When we first brought her home, she would scream and cry and nothing my wife would say could calm her down. Ours must be a daddy’s girl. I sit her in her chair and my wife and I begin babbling like chickens – ‘Mamá!’ ‘Daddy!’ ‘Say Mamá!’ ‘Who’s daddy’s baby?’ I pull the gag from our little girl’s mouth. “P-please… what do you want from me? Please, let me go…” My wife’s smile falls from her face. With a heavy heart, I put the gag back in as the girl starts to scream. I take her back and dispose of her. When I return, I find my wife crying. “It’s ok, honey,” I tell her; “the next one will be better, I promise.”

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

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

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

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

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

r/shortscarystories 13 hr. ago S_G_Woodhouse I think I'm losing my head I was driving home after a long day at work. I blinked, and the next thing I knew, I was at home having dinner with my wife and 2 daughters. "What's wrong honey" she asked me. "I don't know. I just feel like I've forgotten something" I replied, confused. Forgot something? It was much worse than that, I had no memory of going home. I reassured her and spent the rest of the evening as normal, re-watching one of my favorite movies. Eventually, I dozed off. I dreamt strange things. I saw myself, having a picnic with my parents. Except they weren't smiling and happy like I remembered them. Instead, they were sitting on the picnic blanket, staring into space, their faces closed and expressionless. No matter how much I shouted at them in my daze, I couldn't see any life left in them; it was as if they were there, without being there. Detached. I woke up in my bed, alone. I looked all over the house, but not only was my wife gone, so were my children. My cell phone line was dead, no service. I went outside to get my car and drive to work, thinking I'd try to call my wife a little later. There was no one on the road but me. It was as if the whole Earth had emptied out. I'd dismissed my detachment last night, but I was seriously beginning to wonder if I was losing my mind. I was lost. I decided to go to my work to see if anyone was still in town, if a national evacuation drill was underway and could explain everything. Once there, I rushed back into the building, hoping to find someone who could explain what was going on. And when I opened the door, I was relieved to see that all my colleagues were there. At last, I could find out what was going on. I walked over to a colleague who over the years had become my best friend. "Hey, what's going on? My family's disappeared and there's nobody left in town," I asked him. He didn't answer. I stepped forward to face him, and discovered to my horror that his face and expression were detached exactly the same as my parents' in my dream. It couldn't be, was I trapped in a nightmare? I tried to talk to everyone, but they were all in the same state. My head hurt, my eyes hurt. I saw lights, and sounds filled my ears even though there was nothing here. Nothing alive. My vision began to narrow. Sounds began to blend together. Blackness. Emptiness. And finally, words I didn't have time to understand came to me for the last time. "The driver is dead, his head was torn off by the impact."

Tʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-Tʀᴇᴀᴛ /sʜᴏʀᴛsᴄᴀʀʏsᴛᴏʀɪᴇs GᴜʏAᴡᴋs Tʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-Tʀᴇᴀᴛ “Is ᴛʜɪs ʏᴏᴜʀ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ, Jᴀɴᴇᴛ? Yᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴏɴ Eᴅᴅʏ ᴀʀᴇ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ!” Mʏ ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏᴜʀ Yᴠᴇᴛᴛᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴍs ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴀᴅᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪɴɪsʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʙᴡᴇʙs ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴍɪɴɪᴠᴀɴ’s ᴅɪsᴘʟᴀʏ. Aʟʟ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴛ ɪs ᴀ sᴇᴀ ᴏғ sɪᴍɪʟᴀʀ Hᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴅᴇᴄᴏʀ ɪɴ ᴄᴀʀ ʙᴏᴏᴛs, ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴀs ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟᴇᴅ ᴀs ʜᴇʀs. “Yᴇs” I ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ, ᴀᴅᴊᴜsᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʜᴏsᴛ ᴅɪsᴘʟᴀʏ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄᴀʀ ᴛʀᴜɴᴋ. “Mʏ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄɪᴛʏ.” “Oʜ ɪᴛ’s sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴠᴇɴɪᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʀɪᴄᴋ-ᴏʀ-ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ. Iɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴋɪᴅs ᴅᴏᴏʀ-ᴛᴏ-ᴅᴏᴏʀ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ, ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴀʀs ɪɴ ᴀ ʟᴏᴄᴀʟ ᴄʜᴜʀᴄʜ ᴘᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛʀᴜɴᴋs. Lɪғᴇ’s ᴀʟʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀᴅᴀᴘᴛɪɴɢ.” Eᴅᴅʏ ʙᴏʙs ɪɴ ᴇxᴄɪᴛᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴏsᴛᴜᴍᴇ. Eᴀɢᴇʀ, ʜᴇ sᴇᴛs ᴏғғ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅs ᴛʜᴇ sᴘᴏᴏᴋɪʟʏ ᴅᴇᴄᴏʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍɪɴɪᴠᴀɴs ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪᴅs ʟɪɴɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ғᴏʀ ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ. “Tʜɪs ᴅᴏᴇs sᴇᴇᴍ ғᴜɴ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪᴅs, Yᴠᴇᴛᴛᴇ” I ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍʏ ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏᴜʀ ᴡʜɪʟsᴛ sʜᴇ ᴘᴀssᴇs ᴏᴜᴛ ᴄʜᴏᴄᴏʟᴀᴛᴇs. “Bᴜᴛ ʜᴏᴡ sᴀғᴇ ɪs ᴛʜɪs? Wɪᴛʜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀs’ ᴄᴀʀs…” “Hᴏɴᴇʏ, ᴛʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ɪs ᴍᴜᴄʜ sᴀғᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʀɪᴄᴋ-ᴏʀ- ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ!” sʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀssᴜʀᴇs ᴍᴇ. Sᴜᴅᴅᴇɴʟʏ, I ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴇ sᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴀ ᴄᴀʀ ʙᴏᴏᴛ sʟᴀᴍᴍɪɴɢ sʜᴜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴ ᴇɴɢɪɴᴇ ʀᴏᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʟɪғᴇ. Tʜᴇ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ SUV ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴛ ɪᴍᴍᴇᴅɪᴀᴛᴇʟʏ ʙᴇɢɪɴs ʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʏ. Eᴅᴅʏ ɪs ɴᴏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sᴇᴇɴ. “Hᴇʏ!” I sᴄʀᴇᴀᴍ. Eᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ sᴘɪɴs ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ I’ᴍ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ SUV ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛɪɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪɴᴅᴏᴡs ᴇʀʀᴀᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ. Wɪᴛʜ ᴀ sᴄʀᴇᴇᴄʜ ɪᴛ ɢᴏᴇs ᴛᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴜs. Aᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ, ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜɴᴋ-ᴏʀ-ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛs ʙᴇɢɪɴ sʜᴏᴜᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɢɪᴠɪɴɢ ᴄʜᴀsᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍʏsᴛᴇʀɪᴏᴜs ᴠᴀɴ ᴀs ɪᴛ ғʟᴇᴇs, ᴀʟʟ ᴡʜɪʟsᴛ ғʀᴀɴᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ ᴀʀᴇ sᴀғᴇ. “Is ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴍɪssɪɴɢ?!” Aᴍɪᴅsᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɴɪᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴄʜᴀᴏs, I ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ Eᴅᴅʏ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. I ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ɪɴ ʀᴇʟɪᴇғ ᴀɴᴅ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴀ ʙɪɢ ʜᴜɢ. “Aʟʟ ᴅᴏɴᴇ—ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴛʜɪɴɢ” ʜᴇ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ғɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜʟʏ. I sᴍɪʟᴇ ᴀ ғɪᴇɴᴅɪsʜ sᴍɪʟᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ. Tʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴠᴀɴ, ᴅʀɪᴠᴇɴ ʙʏ ᴍʏ ʜᴜsʙᴀɴᴅ, ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ ᴅɪsᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. Iᴛ ʟᴇғᴛ ᴍʏ sᴏɴ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴀᴡʟ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʀs ᴘᴀʀᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙʀᴀᴋᴇ ʟɪɴᴇs. Tᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ʜᴇʟᴘʟᴇss ғᴀᴍɪʟɪᴇs ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʟʟ ғɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍsᴇʟᴠᴇs sᴍᴀsʜɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʀᴇᴇs ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ ᴏғ ᴅɪɢɢɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ sᴡᴇᴇᴛs.

‘Crying isn’t going to help’ by HonestRage She's gone, all because of him. Dead. He killed my wife. She'd still be here, if it's not for him. If only he could speak with reason; I could’ve let him live long enough to explain. But that was obviously not going to happen. After all, he was born just a few minutes ago...

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

UNINSTALLING STEAM ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▢ 　　╭━╮╭━╮╭╮　╱ 　　 　　╰━┫╰━┫╰╯╱╭╮ 　　 　　╰━╯╰━╯╱　╰╯ 　 ERROR ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ ████▌▄▌▄▐▐▌█████ ████▌▄▌▄▐▐▌▀████ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

Over a century ago, the woman was encouraged to keep her child after she's considering pregnancy termination. "your baby could be an artist or grow up to be a world leader" they had said, so she kept it and went to give birth to a baby boy c. 1888 He's named Adolf

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

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 8 yr. ago EvantheNerd83 A Perfect Baby 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 A Perfect Baby When she was born, Little Jamie got all the attention. Her mother cradled her in her arms and the doctors and nurses who were present crowded around them. They peered over the shoulders of their coworkers. They wanted to see the most perfect baby in the world. And Little Jamie was perfect. She had bright blue eyes that shone like sapphires, such a deep shade that it reflected the sky. A pink and soft body. She glowed under the fluorescent lights of the hospital room, an angel delivered in mortal form. Everyone stared and cooed and stroked her puffy cheeks, took out their cameras and took pictures when they could, complimented her mother for conceiving such a lovely child. Her mother blushed in embarrassment and scratched her black hair. It was a joyful reception until the armed men in the uniforms stepped in to the room. Laughter died. Awkward coughing ensued. It was time to follow the rules. The symbol pinned to their chests declared as much. Little Jamie was handed over to them, their stoic expressions remaining untainted as they walked out. Her mother watched and begged and screamed. But, the nurses held her back. Urged her to be quiet. For her own sake. Little Jamie's newborn wailing cut-off down the hallway. The elevator door had closed. Now, she was downstairs with the others. Little Jamie was perfect, but mortal perfection wasn't acceptable. She had to be Aryan.

ᴶᵃᶜᵏ ᴬ ᴬᵇᵇᵒᵗᵗ ᴮᴵᴿᵀᴴ ²⁴ ᴬᵘᵍ ¹⁹⁵⁹ ⱽⁱʳᵍⁱⁿⁱᵃ⸴ ᵁᔆᴬ ᴰᴱᴬᵀᴴ ¹³ ᴼᶜᵗ ¹⁹⁶² ⁽ᵃᵍᵉᵈ ³⁾ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵈʳᵒʷⁿⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵗʰᵗᵘᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳⁿᵃˡ ᵇˡᵉᵉᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᔆᵃⁿ ᴹᵃᵗᵉᵒ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗʸ⸴ ᶜᵃˡⁱᶠᵒʳⁿⁱᵃ⸴ ᵁᔆᴬ ᴮᵁᴿᴵᴬᴸ ᴴᵒˡʸ ᶜʳᵒˢˢ ᶜᵃᵗʰᵒˡⁱᶜ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᶜᵒˡᵐᵃ⸴ ᔆᵃⁿ ᴹᵃᵗᵉᵒ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗʸ⸴ ᶜᵃˡⁱᶠᵒʳⁿⁱᵃ⸴ ᵁᔆᴬ

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

What GENS are y’all? 🤨 Lost Gen – 1883-1900 😩 Greatest Gen – 1901-1927 👵🏽👴🏾 Silent Gen – 1928-1945 🤫 Baby Boomer Gen – 1946-1964 👩🏽‍🍼👶🏽👨🏾‍🍼 Gen X – 1965 - 1980 ❌ Millennial – 1981-1996 💎 Gen Z – 1997-2012 💤 Gen Alpha – 2013 - present 🎁

Crashing the Party Cars was a big hit for Pixar in 2006, spawning three sequels. The co-writer and co-director of Cars, Joe Ranft, passed away midway through production—in a car accident.

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

https://i.imgflip.com/8kbi1f.gif https://i.imgflip.com/8kbhxx.gif

To my dear darling baby. Author: Anonymous Baby Name: Baby Zepeda Birth Date: May 2011 Abortion Date: October 2010 The pain sometimes is so hard to bear, even after 11 years. I regretted it all the moment I woke up from the procedure. I screamed, “My baby!”. I’m so sorry I was weak and insecure. Your dad didn’t want to keep you because we were barely making it and didn’t want to give you a bad life. I was scared, no one would love me like your dad and he would leave me if I kept you. How wrong we were. He wouldn’t have left me. He would have loved you so much. Baby, you are missed every second of my life. Both your dad and I regret our decision. He also hurts for you too even tho he doesn’t show it. You have 2 sisters and 1 brother. I can’t wait to hug you and hold and kiss you in heaven. Oh my baby. How could I have been so stupid and weak. I know you are with God, Jesus y tu bisabuela y tus tios! I love you with all my being and hope you can forgive me. Your passing lead me to God. The only positive. I love you! Posted: Jul 6, 2022

Drowning In Sorrow I had a cousin who drowned when I was much younger. At the time, he was off at college, so nobody knew about it until the next day. His parents were taking care of his 2-year-old niece. The night he drowned, she woke up screaming in the night and would not go to sleep. She just kept pointing to a picture of him that was on the nightstand. His parents gave it to her, and she hugged it and wouldn't let go of it all night.

My little sister's boyfriend dumped her the week of their senior prom. When my boyfriend heard of this, he drove 7 hours from where we go to college so he could take her to the dance. Everyone there was jealous...especially her ex. His love for me and my family GMH. September 8th, 2010, 9:53 AM

ℑ𝔣 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔶, 𝔴𝔢 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔭 𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔍𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔞𝔩𝔴𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔯𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯, 𝔬𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔞 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS vi (Autistic Author) "Plankton," she says firmly, her voice cutting through the tension. "Let's take a breathe." He glares, his antennae vibrating with agitation. But he does as she says, taking a deep, shaky breath. Chip watches him, eyes wide and full of tears. "Chip," Karen says, her voice calm. "Why don't you go to your room and play for a bit?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. He slips off the couch, clutching the rock to his chest. But doing so, Chip accidentally touches Plankton when he passes, and Plankton yelps in alarm when Chip brushes his shoulder. "Sorry," Chip whispers. Plankton flinches, his antennae shooting straight up as he jolts back from the contact. "I told you, no touching!" he snaps, his voice a thunderclap in the tense silence. Chip's eyes widen with fear and confusion, his lip quivering as he backs away, holding the rock protectively. "I didn't mean to," he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton's antennae wiggle in an exaggerated fashion, his eye rolling dramatically. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he says in a high-pitched mockery of Chip's voice. "I didn't mean to touch you and make everything about me." Karen's face falls, and she knows they've taken a step backward. But she also sees the hurt in Plankton's eye, the pain that he's trying to hide with anger. "Dad," Chip says, quivering. "That's not fair, I..." But Plankton doesn't let him finish. "You know what's not fair?" Plankton spits, his antennae whipping back and forth in fury. "Is having a son who thinks he knows everything about me!" Chip's eyes fill with tears as he stumbles back, clutching the rock tighter. "I just wanted to help," he whispers, his voice breaking. Plankton's in a sarcastic imitation of Chip's movements. "Oh, the great helper," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You think you can just fix me with your questions and your pity?" Chip's eyes fill with hurt as he watches his father mock his innocent concern. Karen feels a mix of anger and sadness, but she knows she must tread carefully. "Daddy," Chip says, his voice shaking as he puts the rock down, "I'm sorry if I made you mad." But Plankton isn't listening. He picks up the rock and with a sudden, violent movement, he throws it against the wall. It shatters into a hundred pieces, the sound echoing through the room. "Son, I’m sorry if I made you mad!” Plankton's sarcastic tone cuts through the silence like a knife, his antennae flailing wildly. Chip flinches at the sudden outburst, his eyes wide with shock. "That's what you want, right?" Plankton continues, his voice rising. "To fix everything? Sorry doesn't cut it," Plankton snaps, his antennae trembling with rage. "No, Dad," Chip says, his voice barely audible, "I just wanted to understand." But Plankton isn't done. "Oh, I'm sorry, little genius," Plankton says, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Is that what you want to hear?" Chip stares at him, his eyes brimming with tears. "No," he whispers. "I just want you to be okay, I love you!" But Plankton's anger is a living, breathing thing, swirling around him like a storm. "Love isn't enough, Chip!" Plankton yells, his antennae quivering with rage. "You can't just love away my problems! You don't get to decide that for me!" Karen's heart is in her throat, but she forces herself to speak calmly. "Plankton, please," she says, her voice shaking. "You're scaring him." Chip nods. “I just…” But Plankton's fury is unrelenting. "You think a simple game of 'I love you' is going to make everything okay?" Plankton interrupts, his voice a roar that shakes the walls of their tiny underwater home. Chip's eyes fill with confusion, and he takes a step backward, trembling. "But, Dad," he whispers. "But nothing!" Plankton's antennae whip around, and he stands, his whole body vibrating with anger. "You think you can fix me? You think you can just love me and everything will be fine?" Karen tries to interject, but Plankton's rage is like a tidal wave, crashing over everything in its path. "You think you gotta have the last word just to show how great and special you are Chip. But in the real world No means No so BACK OFF." Chip's eyes widen, and he stumbles backward, the shattered rock on the floor a stark reminder of Plankton's outburst. "Daddy," he whispers, his voice trembling. Plankton's antennae only stiffen further. "I'm sorry, Chip," Karen says, her voice a thread of calm in the storm. "Let's go to your room, okay?" Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton, who's still standing with his antennae flailing. Karen can see the hurt in her son's gaze, and it breaks her heart. She helps him off the couch, and together, they navigate the shards of rock on the floor. As they leave the room, Karen casts a sorrowful glance at Plankton, who's now slumped into the couch, his antennae drooping. The anger seems to have drained out of him, leaving behind a tired, defeated creature. In Chip's room, Karen helps her son sit on the bed, the soft glow from the glowfish lamp casting a warm light on his tear-stained face. She sits beside him, her hand gently rubbing his back in comforting circles. "You didn't do anything wrong, sweetie," she whispers. "Daddy just has a hard time with his feelings." Chip's eyes are glued to the floor, his chest heaving with quiet sobs. "But why?" he asks, his voice cracking. Karen takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Sometimes, when people are upset or scared, they don't know how to show it," she says gently. "Daddy's just trying to deal with his own stuff, and it can be hard for him to talk about." Chip nods, his eyes still on the floor. "But why does he have to get so mad?" he asks, his voice trembling. "It's not that he's mad at you," she says softly. "It's just that he doesn't know how to express himself without getting upset." "But why?" Chip asks, his voice muffled by the pillow he's buried his face in. Karen takes a deep breath, her eyes misting over. "Daddy's brain works differently, Chip," she says, her voice cracking. "Sometimes, when we're sad or scared, we get mad instead." Chip lifts his head, his eyes red and wet. "But why doesn't he just tell me he loves me?" he asks, his voice a broken whisper. Karen sighs, sad but understanding. "Some people show love in different ways," she says. "Daddy might not say it out loud, but he does it every day. Like when he takes you on adventures or when he makes you laugh." "But why can't he just say it?" he asks. Karen's throat tightens. "Sometimes, it's hard for Daddy to say the words," she explains gently. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it." Chip sniffles, his eyes never leaving hers. "But why can't he just tell me?" Karen sighs, her hand still rubbing soothing circles on his back. "It's complicated," she says. "Daddy's brain is like a treasure chest with lots of locks. Some days, the right words just can't find the key." Chip looks at her, his eyes searching for a simple truth amidst the complexity. "But I want him to feel happy with me," he murmurs. Karen nods, her voice soft. "And he is, sweetie," she says. "Just in his own way." They sit in silence for a moment. Then Karen stands, her movements slow and deliberate. "Let's leave Daddy alone for now," she suggests. "He needs some space to sort through his feelings." Chip nods, his eyes still glistening with unshed tears. Together, they leave the room, closing the door softly behind them. As they walk down the corridor, Karen's thoughts are a tumult of emotions. She's angry at Plankton for his outburst, but she also understands his pain. He's been dealing with his condition alone for so long, and now he's forced to confront it with their son's innocent curiosity. They enter the living room, and she can see Plankton sitting on the couch, his antennae drooping. He looks up as they come in, his expression a mix of guilt and defiance. Karen takes a deep breath, trying to keep her own emotions in check. "Why don't we watch a movie?" she suggests, her voice gentle. "Something to help us relax?" Chip nods, still sniffling, and Plankton's antennae perk up slightly. It's a small victory, but it's something. They settle on the couch, Chip curled up in the middle with a blanket. Karen chooses a movie they've watched together before, a silent gesture of comfort and familiarity. Plankton's eye is on the screen, but his antennae are still twitching with leftover anger.

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

GREAT CHIP ix (Autistic author) Chip took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "I know I can't fix you, Dad," he said, his voice shaking. Plankton's antennae stopped moving, his eye focusing on Chip with an intensity that made him feel like he was being x-rayed. "You can't," he said, his voice firm. "But you can support me. You can be there without trying to change me." Chip nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Okay," he managed to say. "But I want to understand. I want to be here for you." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye narrowing slightly. "Understand?" he echoed, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Sure, it's easy. Just imagine your brain's a pinball machine on tilt. Sounds fun, right?" Chip felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth despite the tension, which only adds to Plankton's anger. "Well, when you put it that way..." Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye squinting at his son's response. "What?" he barked, his voice sharp. Chip tried to hold onto his smile, his heart racing. "I mean, if it's like a pinball machine, I can learn the patterns," he said, his tone carefully light. "I'm pretty good at video games, so..." Plankton's antennae waved wildly, his eye flashing with anger. "You think this is a game?" he shouted, his voice filling the room. "You think I enjoy being out of control? WELL THEN PERHAPS YOU CAN EXPLAIN THE FUN OF FORGETTING WHERE I AM FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME!" Chip's smile dropped, his eyes wide with shock at his father's outburst. He took a step back, his hands up in a gesture of peace. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean to make a joke of it, I just..." "You just what?" Plankton spat, his small body vibrating with rage. "You just don't get it! You can't get it! You're not autistic, you don't know what it's like to have your brain turn on you like that!" Chip's eyes filled with tears, his heart breaking at the accusation. "I know, Dad," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm trying." Plankton's antennae quivered with the force of his rage. "You don't know," he said, his voice cold. "You can't know. All I see is a little child playing pretend, thinking he can understand what I go through! And yet you're the one asking for help! Face it, you're never going to get it and so don't expect ME to explain it to you!" Chip's eyes watered, the words hitting like a sledgehammer. He had never seen his father so furious, so unyielding. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice shaking. "I just want to help." Plankton's antennae stopped their wild movements, his eye focusing on his son with a cold, calculating gaze. "Help?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You want to help by poking fun at my condition?" Chip's eyes searched his father's, his heart racing. "Dad, I didn't mean it like that," he said, his voice trembling. "I just wanted to lighten the mood." Plankton's antennae waved, his eye still cold and distant. "Don't," he said, his voice like ice. "Don't try to lighten it. And don't you DARE make fun of it." Chip's eyes fell to the floor, his heart aching with the weight of his father's anger. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I di-" "You're sorry?" Plankton's voice was a whip crack in the silence. "Sorry doesn't cut it!" He slammed his fist on the table, causing their plates to rattle. "You think an apology is enough when you belittle what I go through?" Chip's eyes widened with fear as his dad's anger grew. He'd never seen Plankton like this before, his tiny body trembling with rage, his antennae thrashing like live wires. The kitchen felt suffocatingly small, the walls closing in. "Dad, please," Chip begged, his voice shaking. "I didn't mean it that way." But Plankton was beyond listening, his tiny body vibrating with fury. "You don't get to make jokes about this!" he roared, his antennae whipping about like agitated snakes. "You don't get to reduce it to a game you can win with a simple joke!" Chip took another step back, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never seen his father this enraged, and it scared him. "Dad, I-" he began, but Plankton's tirade didn't stop. "You think it's funny?" Plankton shouted, his antennae a blur of motion. "You think it's fun to live with this?" His voice grew louder, his words sharper. "You think it's easy to lighten up at the drop of a hat?" Chip's eyes filled with tears as his father's anger grew, his voice crackling like static. He hadn't meant to make light of his dad's condition, but now it seemed as if he'd made everything worse. "I'm sorry," he choked out, his hands shaking. Plankton's antennae whipped around his head, his eye bulging. "Sorry won't make it go away!" he screamed, his voice bouncing off the walls. "You think you can make it better with a laugh?" He slammed his fist down again, the sound like a gunshot. "It's not a joke, Chip!" Chip's eyes filled with tears as he watched his father's outburst, his heart pounding. He had never seen Plankton like this, his anger a living, breathing thing that filled the room like a toxic cloud. "I know," he whispered, his voice shaking. "But I want to help." Plankton's antennae thrashed wildly, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. "Help?" he spat, his voice a whip. "You want to help? Then stop making it about you!" Chip's eyes grew wide with fear as he watched his father's anger boil over, his voice shaking. "Dad, please," he whispered, his heart racing. Plankton's antennae thrashed wildly, his body vibrating with uncontrollable rage. Suddenly, he grabbed the coffee mug from the table, flinging it across the room where it shattered against the wall. Shards of ceramic flew everywhere, puncturing the silence like shrapnel. "Dad, no!" Chip yelled, his heart racing faster than it ever had before. He had never seen Plankton this out of control. And Karen knew she had to act fast. Her voice was calm but firm as she approached Plankton. "Sweetie, it's okay," she said, her hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "Let's go to your workshop. You know that's your safe space." Plankton's antennae thrashed, his eye darting around the room, seeking anything to target his anger. "I don't want to go anywhere!" he roared, his body shaking with the intensity of his emotions. "It's not okay!" Karen stepped closer, her voice steady. "It's okay to be upset," she said, her eyes never leaving his. "But Chip..." But Plankton's rage was unstoppable. He lunged for the nearest object, a framed photo of Chip, his grip tightening as he raised it over his head, ready to smash it against the floor. Karen's eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest. She had to defuse the situation before it got any worse. "Plankton, no," she pleaded, her voice steady. "Please, don't." But Plankton's rage had taken over, his body moving on autopilot as he swung the photo frame with all his might. It crashed to the floor, the shattering glass echoing in the small room. Chip's eyes grew round with shock, his body frozen in place as he watched his father's tantrum unfold. "Dad, please stop!" he shouted, his voice cracking with fear. "You're scaring me!" But Plankton's rage was a runaway train, his antennae quivering with the intensity of his anger. He stomped over to the counter, grabbing a plate and flinging it against the wall, where it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces. The sound was deafening, the force of the impact sending a shiver down Chip's spine. Karen stepped in front of Chip, placing herself between him and the storm of Plankton's fury. "Stop," she said firmly, her voice a calm oasis in the chaos. "You're scaring him." Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye focusing on Karen with a mix of anger and confusion. For a moment, his body seemed to pause, his arm still mid-air, a kitchen towel gripped tightly in his hand. Then, with a roar, he threw it, the soft fabric landing limply on the floor. Karen's eyes searched her husband's, seeing the turmoil behind the rage. "Please, Plankton," she said, her voice soothing. "Let's talk about this." But Plankton's anger was like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. He picked up another mug, his arm winding up to throw it, when Chip suddenly stepped forward, his eyes locked on his father's. "Dad," he said, his voice shaking. "Please don't." Plankton's antennae paused, his arm still raised. "WHY?" he growled, his eye wild with anger. "You think you can just tell me what to do?" And then, with a sickly twisted satisfaction, Plankton hurled the mug in front of Chip, purposefully missing him. The room seemed to hold its breath as the mug spun through the air, the shattering of porcelain on the tile floor a symphony of pain. "Dad," Chip said, his voice shaking. "It's not about control. It's about us. Our fam..." But Plankton was beyond words, his rage a living entity that consumed him. He grabbed a toaster, his grip white-knuckled, and hurled it at the fridge, the metallic clang a cacophony in the small kitchen. "I DON'T NEED YOUR SYMPATHY!" he bellowed, his antennae a blur.

The Luckiest Unlucky Man Clifford Johnson was injured at the deadliest nightclub fire in history, at the famous Cocoanut Grove in 1942. He suffered third-degree burns over more than half his body but survived, and was seen as a medical marvel. After hundreds of operations and nearly two years in the hospital, he married his nurse. In an ironic twist of fate, he burned to death in a car crash in 1958.

CHIP OFF THE OLD TALKS xi (Autistic Author) The wind whispers through the leaves of the nearby trees, carrying with it the scent of fresh-cut grass and the distant sound of seagulls. It's a simple pleasure, but one that Plankton has often missed in his quest to protect his son from the storms in his own mind. Suddenly, the serenity is shattered as a ball comes hurtling through the air, narrowly missing Plankton's head. He flinches, his antennae shooting straight up in alarm. Chip's swing comes to an abrupt halt, his eyes wide with fear. The children playing nearby laugh, unaware of the chaos their game has brought to the quiet corner of the playground. Plankton's eye darts around, trying to process the sudden assault of sound and movement. His breath comes in quick, shallow gasps, and Karen can see the beginnings of a panic attack forming on his face. "Daddy!" Chip shouts, jumping off his swing and racing to his side. With surprising speed and grace, Chip leaps into action, catching Plankton just as he starts to topple off the swing. "Daddy!" Chip says, his voice filled with urgency as he gently guides Plankton's unresponsive body to the soft grass below. The love rock still clutches in his small hand. Karen rushes over, her eyes wide with concern. "Is he ok?" she asks, kneeling beside them. Chip nods, his chest heaving. "He has an absence seizure thing," he says, his voice shaking slightly. He looks up at Karen, his eyes filled with fear and confusion. "What do we do?" Karen's eyes fill with a mix of panic and love as she takes in the sight of Plankton, his body frozen in mid-swing, his antennae limp. She's been here before, but it never gets easier. "It's ok," she says, her voice calm despite her racing heart. "Just give him a moment. He'll come back to us." Chip nods, his grip on the love rock tightening as he watches his father. The world seems to slow down around them, the laughter of the other children fading into a distant memory. Plankton's breathing is shallow, his body stiff. Karen reaches out, placing a gentle hand on his back, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. The seconds tick by like hours, each one filled with the weight of uncertainty. Chip clutches the love rock, willing his dad to come back. He's seen this before, but it never gets easier. He remembers the first time it happened, the fear that had gripped him, the feeling of helplessness as his dad's eye glazed over. But now, he knows what to do. He's not as scared; he's prepared. With trembling hands, Chip takes out the love rock, its smoothness a comforting reminder of their conversation. He places it gently in Plankton's palm, curling the slender fingers around it. "You're ok," he whispers, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside. "We’re here." Plankton's body remains still, a stark contrast to the vibrant world around them. The squeaks of the swings, the laughter of the children, the distant crash of waves, all seem to fade into the background as they wait for him to return from his brief retreat. Karen sits beside Chip, her hand on his shoulder, offering silent support. Time seems to stand still as they wait, the rock in Plankton's hand a silent testament to their newfound bond. The park's vibrant sounds muffle into a distant symphony, the world holding its breath for Plankton's return. Above them, the sun casts a warm, gentle light, the shadows dancing as if in a silent ballet of concern. The seconds stretch into eternity, each one a heartbeat of hope. Chip's eyes never leave his father, willing him back with all his might. The rock in Plankton's palm is a symbol of love and understanding, a bridge connecting them through the stormy seas of his mind. As Plankton's body remains frozen, the world around them seems to hold its breath. The rustling of the leaves above, the distant laughter of children, even the crash of waves in the background seem to hush in respectful silence. It's as if the universe itself is offering a quiet sanctuary for Plankton's return. Chip's eyes never leave his father's face, his grip on the love rock in Plankton's palm unwavering. His heart races with fear, but he squeezes the rock tighter, trying to channel the love and support he feels into his dad's unresponsive hand. Chip decides to whisper comforting words. "Daddy, it's ok," he says softly. "You're safe here with me and Mom." Karen's eyes are filled with a mix of fear and admiration for her son's courage. She watches as Chip decides to continue. "Remember the rock, Daddy?" Chip whispers. "It's my way of saying I love you." Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, a glimmer of recognition in his eye. The world around them seems to hold its breath, the very air thick with anticipation. Chip's voice is the only sound, a gentle lullaby in the cacophony of the playground. The rock in Plankton's hand feels warm, almost alive, as if it's absorbing the love Chip is whispering into it. Chip watches as Plankton's antennae slowly start to wiggle, a sign that he's coming back to them. "I'm here," Chip says, his voice barely audible. "I'll always be here." Karen's hand moves to cover Chip's, her eyes glistening with tears she's trying hard to hold back. The sight of her son's unwavering support is both heartbreaking and awe-inspiring. Plankton's chest rises and falls more steadily, his breathing evening out. The rock in Plankton's hand seems to pulse with a gentle warmth, a silent acknowledgment of Chip's words. Karen sees the tension in Plankton's features begin to ease, his antennae drooping slightly as he starts to come back to them. It's a delicate process, like waking a sleeping dragon. Any sudden movement could send him back into the storm. Chip's voice is a beacon, guiding Plankton through the fog. "It's ok," Chip repeats, his voice soothing, "You're with us." Plankton's antennae twitch again, and Karen can see the spark of understanding in his eye. Slowly, Plankton's body starts to relax. The tension in his shoulders eases, and his antennae twitch in a way that tells Karen he's listening, that he's with them again. His breathing evens out, and his eyelid flickers closed. For a moment, Chip is afraid. But then, Plankton's hand tightens slightly around the rock, giving him a squeeze that says 'Thank you'. Karen smiles, her eyes shimmering with relief. "Looks like he’s asleep," she whispers, her voice filled with a mix of humor and love. Chip nods, his own eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. They stay like that for a while, the three of them, in the quiet sanctuary of the park bench. The storm in Plankton's mind has passed, leaving them in a gentle lull. The playground's sounds slowly start to filter back in, the chatter of children, the distant hum of the city, the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Chip keeps whispering, his voice a gentle caress in the stillness. "It's ok, Daddy. You're safe." Karen watches her son with a mix of love and sadness, knowing the weight he now carries. He's growing up too fast, she thinks, but he's handling it with more grace than anyone could ask for. Plankton's hand relaxes around the rock, his breathing deep and even. The storm inside him has passed for now, leaving them with a quiet, precious moment. Chip leans into her, his voice a whisper. "Is he going to be ok?" Karen nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. "He'll be fine," she says. "Rest is sometimes the best thing for him after an episode." Chip nods, his grip on the rock in Plankton's hand loosening slightly. He looks around the park, the world coming back into focus. The other kids are playing, their laughter a gentle reminder of the life that goes on outside their little bubble of concern. "Should we go home?" Chip asks, his voice still hushed. Karen nods. "Let's get him into the shade," she says, gesturing to a nearby tree. "The fresh air and quiet will do him good." Together, they gently lift Plankton and carry him to the cool, shaded spot. Chip is careful not to jostle him too much, his little hands supporting Plankton's head. Under the tree, Karen lays a blanket on the ground and they place him down. His antennae are still now, no longer dancing with the stress of the seizure. His breath is deep and even, his features relaxed in sleep. Chip watches him intently, his thumb tracing the smooth surface of the love rock. "He's going to be ok, right?" he asks, his voice a barely audible whisper. Karen nods, her eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness. "Of course, sweetie," she says. "Daddy just needs some rest."