Mary Bell Emojis & Text

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

In the original story of "Peter Pan", Peter murders the Lost Boys when they seem to grow too old to still live in Neverland, because being an adult in this place is against the rules. In the middle of a battle against pirates, he would sometimes even switch sides and start killing Lost Boys for fun.

Horror Confessions @Horror_Fessions "When I was 8 I would hear what seemed like a younger girl calling for me in my back yard, my mom decided to ask around to see if any young boys had the same name as I did, turns out 8 years prior, a girl and her brother with the same name as I were murdered in a courtyard behind our house."

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

💂‍♀️🏰🇬🇧🌧️🫖

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

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

🔴 - 🔪 - 🔴 🔪 - 😈 - 🔪 🔴 - 🔪 - 🔴

Raͩnͤsͣoͭmͪ

__________ [___________] | . - . | | , ( o . o ) . | | > | n | < | | ` ` " ` ` | | POISON! | ` " " " " " " " `

༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻ LOVING MEMORY ༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻

i̸̦͙̯̐ͅt̵̛͍͓̱͔̳̍̓͋̽̓͑̚͝͠'̴̧̧̩̝̓ͅs̸͓̲̜͒̌... m̵̨̨̢̢̡̢̢̡̨̨̡̧̢̧̛̛͔̞̖̝͔͕̮͖̹̩͚͙̰͎̺͔̠͙̬͈̦͍̟̲͍̩͖͈̬͙̱̳̭̘͎̳̜̟̱̱̥̫̙̰̺̹̬̟̝͖̫͉̣̪̘̠̙̫̣͉͈͍̱̙̞͖̗͚͍͍̼͇͍̪̝͚̟̙̞̬͈̱͙̠̣̖̭̰̹̤͈͍̭͈̪̰̥̦̠̑̔̏̑̊͆̑̿̽̔̄̓͒̀̄̄̈́̆͂̍̎̇̑͂̔̑̿͐͌͌̾͋̀͒̒̇̂̊̏̂͒͊̌͛͂̈́̀̆́͆͌̑̿̇̑̆̉͆̑͐̍̌̇͑͐͆͌̂̍́͑̃̈̌̾͆́͑̅͑̐̋̒͗̽̉̂̀͑͑̾̅̔͂́̇̓́͆̈͒̎̊͗̔͌̈́̔̔́̈́͋́͒̍͆̉̀̏͛̏̈́͊́̓̌̉̑̾̒̔́͌̑̎͗͆͛̍̎̒̎́̊̓̽͌́͆͌́͐̏̌̒͑͛͗̀̌̀̇͂̍́̒̽̇̈́̔͂̏̌̎͐̿͐̈́̅̉͋̈̔̓̓̀͑̿̔̋̾́͌͘͘̚̚̚͘͘͘̚̚̕̕͜͜͠͠͠͠͠͝͠͝͝ͅͅë̵̡̨̡̢̧̡̦̫̗̞͕̱͉̪͉̼̫̱̯̳̗̱͎̥͈̪̮̺̺̪̼̗̬̭͙͓̙̮͎̼͇͇̻̼͙͉̲̭̲͓̮́̐͗͆̓͐̽̀̽̒̎̈̎͒͜͝͝͠ͅͅ?̵̧̧̧̢̡̡̧̢̨̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛͉͎̮̟̞͓̪̜̻͕̳̞̰͚̘͍̠̼̫͈͙͉̙͇̰̠̼̲̼̟̹͎̞̙͔̹̻͙͉̞̩͚̫̮͖̳̳͉̩̳̹̞̝̹̰̩͈̮͙̦̻̩̤͕͚̗̻̩͕̫̣̦̰̬̮̩͈͔̮̜̙̟̺͍̤͈͔̺̬̳̫̟͔̙̣͖͎͍̗͓̜̙̯̹̗͓̗̖̱͉̦͊̉͐̋̑͆̓̉͊̒̃̎̾̈́̎̍̉͛̈́̂̾͋͊̈́́̓̓̐̈́̈́̋̌́̌͒̿̿͒̌̓̽̌̈́͗̉̎̀͐̃̈́̔̈́̐̄̑̅̾̐̉̿͛̆͊̉̈́͂̉̋́̽͂͗̄̄͛͂͆͊̃͑̉̏́̑̅͗̑̋͌̑̉̅͒̋̐̌͐͛̿̐̅͑͑̌̓̃͂̓̂̌́̄̊͌̋̍̀̂̀̿̐̐̿͆́̇̋̈́̎͛̆̈́̓͆́̃͐͐̅͋̾̆̅͆͌͊̄͋͑̿̑̍̓͑̀͒͂̏͑͂̈́̎̀́͊̑͌͋͊̾̔̅̓͂́̃̉̀́̿̍̿͛͒̓̈́̀̇̇̍̈́͊͆̑̽̍́̈̌̉͒̈́̒̀͒̅͗̈́̏͊̾̂͌̎͗̽̒͆́̀͒̀́͋̏͌͒͛͒͛̌͐̀͂̓͊͘̚̕̕̚̕͘͘̚̚͘͘͘͘̚̕̚̚̚̚̚͘̚̕͘͘͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅ

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‘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...

All I saw was red ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↓ˢᶜʳᵒˡˡ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ↓ I check into small hotel some kilometres away. It is late. I am tired. I tell woman at desk I want a room. She tells me room number and give key. “But one more thing, comrade; there is one room without number and always lock. Don’t even peek in there.” I take key and go to room to sleep. Night comes and I hear trickling of water. It comes from the room across. I cannot sleep so I open door. It is coming from room with no number. I pound on door. No response. I look in keyhole. I see nothing except red. Water still trickling. I go down to front desk to complain. “By the way who is in that room?” She look at me and begin to tell story. There was woman in there. M*rdered by her husband. Skin all white, except her eyes, which were red..

https://scontent-dfw5-2.cdninstagram.com/o1/v/t16/f1/m84/604D0064A3B46C5C34B0169CB7A9D198_video_dashinit.mp4?efg=eyJxZV9ncm91cHMiOiJbXCJpZ193ZWJfZGVsaXZlcnlfdnRzX290ZlwiXSIsInZlbmNvZGVfdGFnIjoidnRzX3ZvZF91cmxnZW4uZmVlZC5jMi41NzYuYmFzZWxpbmUifQ&_nc_ht=scontent-dfw5-2.cdninstagram.com&_nc_cat=108&vs=311602891465589_4050921227&_nc_vs=HBksFQIYTGlnX2JhY2tmaWxsX3RpbWVsaW5lX3ZvZC82MDREMDA2NEEzQjQ2QzVDMzRCMDE2OUNCN0E5RDE5OF92aWRlb19kYXNoaW5pdC5tcDQVAALIAQAVABgkR0twaTd4WWRsZThLMnI0REFLQW5CVmtka0xBMWJwa3dBQUFGFQICyAEAKAAYABsAFQAAJsaz8aWu8cg%2FFQIoAkMzLBdARHMzMzMzMxgSZGFzaF9iYXNlbGluZV8xX3YxEQB16gcA&ccb=9-4&oh=00_AfDT8kmZrgspOVwWvQ1ZuPw9mprBLVhuEPc5wD9SE1PRHg&oe=6518B80C&_nc_sid=2999b8

‘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.

SherlockHolmesz 25 apr 2023 On average, you walk past 36 murderers in your lifetime. ~iFunny

Troy Leon Gregg was the first man to have his death penalty upheld by the Supreme Court after the decision of Furman v. Georgia, but he didn’t die in prison. Troy Leon Gregg, The Man Who Escaped Death Row Only To Be Murdered The Same Night

Anglo-Celt Published in Cavan, county Cavan Ann MORRISON for her child on 5th January last. Frances MORROW, sworn and examined -- Knows Ann MORRISON who was in her service ; she came to witness' house on the 10th of January ; she asked her what became of the baby, prisoner said it was dead-born ; did not say who the father was ; she remained nine days in her house, and the Head-Constable arrested her the Friday after. James SPROULL, Esq., M.D., sworn and examined. He deposed to having made a post mortem examination ; the child must have from strangulation ; there was a conjestion(sic) of the lungs ; there was a mark on the left side of the neck ; strangulation must have been caused by the thumb ; the child was a fine child. The witness gave similar testimony to the Court. http://www.irelandoldnews.com/Cavan/1857/MAR.html March 5, 1857

🇮🇪 Anne MAGOURTY charged with the murder (by poison) of her stepson, Patrick Magourty at Teebane, on the 16th of February 1877. 🇮🇪

🩸🫀🙏🧠🍷🫀🫁🩹🕵🏽🦌🍖

ᴾᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷᵉ ᵇᵃᵈᵉ ᶠᵃʳᵉʷᵉˡˡ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵛᵃʳⁱᵒᵘˢ ʷᵃˡᵏˢ ᵒᶠ ˡⁱᶠᵉ‧‧‧ ʰᵉᵃʳ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᴱᵃᶜʰ ᵒⁿᵉ ⁱˢ ˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵃˡ‧ ᴱᵛᵉʳʸ ⁱˢ ᵘⁿⁱᑫᵘᵉ‧ ᴺᵒ ᵗʷᵒ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ‧ ᴵ ʷⁱˢʰ ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ˡᵉᵃʳⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ʷʳⁱᵗᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ ᴸᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ʰᵉᵃᵈˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʳᵉᵖʳᵉˢᵉⁿᵗ‧

🎡✨🫶🏼💂🏼‍♂️☕

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿☕🥞🍳🥓

☕,🇬🇧,👑,💂‍♂️

r/shortscarystories 1 yr. ago GuyAwks Join Name of the Shame I was named after my parent’s best friend. I never used to have an issue with this. I do now. The name Xavior might’ve been an uncommon choice for a boy. But it held special meaning to my parents, who insisted on naming their first son after a dear family friend who had always come through for them. After all, it was Xavior who’d first introduced them in college. It was he who spoke at their wedding. And it was he that helped them move into their home, gave them rides when their car broke down and babysat in emergencies. My parents said naming me after him was honor. Growing up, I only ever felt to be proud to be named after such a great guy. Uncle Xavior was a good-natured community figure and beloved family man. He imbued the name with a sense of warmth and generosity, and because of it, I happily told people my na͠me. That’s why it’s such a shame that he did what he went on to do. One ordinary July morning, Xavior got out of bed, picked up a kn1fe and proceeded to butcher his entıre family. He then got into his car, drιve into town and continued his kılling spree. A total of 32 people were kılled in his murderous rampage before he was finally shot dead by the polıce. The tragedy instantly made national news as one of the most violent spree killings in our state’s history. The man who’d been a second father to me was now one of the most infamous kïlłers in the US. Ever since that day, being named after Xavior Finch had a very different meaning. Instead of a blessing, it was now my cûrsêd. Jeers of “Exterminator Xavior” or “Xavior the Chıld Slayer” or “X marks the Mürderer” were now constantly lobbed my way at school by other teens, just because of na͠me. Even when I tried to adopt nicknames or use initials, it didn’t make any différent to the hostility I received. Whenever I gave my name to people, they’d clarify “Like the rampage kıller?” or just reflexively cringe at the reminder. I hated it. There was no denying that, at least where I lived, the name was completely tainted. So, after all these years of derisive comments and comparisons, I’m glad to finally be legally changing my name. I haven’t settled on what it’ll be yet. Anything that doesn’t conjure up images of the notorious convict. I refuse to lıve in the shadows of Xavior Finch’s crımes any longer. No, I want the killings I’m going to commıt to speak for themselves. I’m gonna make a name for myself as a criminal—not be overshadowed by my namesake. Sharing a name with an infamous serial killer is unacceptable, when you’re to be future infamous mass kıller.

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

🇬🇧☕️🌧️👑

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🇬🇧🎡🚇💂🏼‍♀️☎️🏙️

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