Mirrorcore Emojis & Text

Ｍｙ ｓｅｌｆ ｗｅｅｋ : ⚝ 𝘑𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ⚝ 𝘋𝘰 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 ⚝ 𝘋𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 ⚝ 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳 𝘛𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬 ⚝ 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 ⚝ 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱 ⚝ 𝘛𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘋𝘖𝘕𝘛 𝘕𝘌𝘌𝘋 𝘛𝘖 𝘗𝘙𝘖𝘝𝘌 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙𝘚𝘌𝘓𝘍 𝘛𝘖 𝘈𝘕𝘠𝘉𝘖𝘋𝘠 𝘖𝘒𝘈𝘠? (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

r/TwoSentenceHorror 14 hr. ago Art_Detective A blood-covered kıller was staring into my soul as he stood over the bødy of his victim... Until I notıced the crack in the mirror.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 3 hr. ago Personal-Tea7226 I stood and looked at myself in the mirror When my reflection mouthed “it’s behind you!”

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.

🧴🧼🧽🛁

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

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.

🫧

GENERAL ADVICE FOR USING SITE so we can keep it up NO DOXXING- leaking a specific person's residential address and who lives full name STORY TIME- don't leak a real person's full name when typing out a juicy gossip tea but you can change the first name or to remain anonymous instead. Otherwise go and create let writing flow! PREACHING- don't over fill with arguing on whether or not to promote, such as your discord server nor how to raise family age viewers must be. You can tag yourself tho.

can ppl stop asking 'where is the beef' because it takes up space on here use a different platform if you want to comment on others Even though most NSFW content is blocked, please limit it before bots and or moderators restrict and/or take down the submissions site please thx bye

~ 💖 ASK GAME 💖 ~ 📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen? 🍫 Cheese or chocolate? ✨ Do you have any nicknames? 🎵 Last song you listened to? ✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction? 😏 Are you on discord? 💛 Do you have any piercings? 🐰 What do you think says the most about a person? 🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be? 🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person? 🎧 Headphones or earbuds? 🌼 What’s the last thing you said out loud? 🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know? 🦉 Are you a morning person or a night owl? 🧸 Favourite place to nap? 🏳️‍🌈 Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community? 🦋 Describe yourself in three words. 👖 Jeans or sweatpants? 🥤 What’s your go-to Starbucks order? 🧡 A colour you can’t stand? 💎 What’s your most prized possession? ☕ Coffee or tea? 🦖 Favourite extinct animal? 🌙 How long have you been online? 🌴 Desert island item? 🐸 Describe your aesthetic. 🔮 What’s your dream job? 💙 Relationship status? 🌿 Describe your favourite outfit. 🎤 Is there a song you know all the lyrics to? 🤎 What colour is your hair? 💌 Do you talk to yourself? 💄 Do you wear makeup? 🌸 Best compliment you ever received? 💞 @ your favourite blog.

𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝑖'𝑚 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠, 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑣𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑤𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 ♡ ˚₊‧⁺

✮ ⋆🧼 ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡🫧°✩

r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 yr. ago Averagebiker21 After I asked the crystal ball to tell me how to escape death, I was very confused as it read "No, thanks honey, I'm full" However, something clicked in my head when my wife offered me cake after dinner...

Tuesday, March 31st, 2015 | I only go shopping at night The cashier swipes my items across the scanner as I stare at the floor. I find it easiest to get through my anxiety by avoiding eye contact with other people. That’s why I only go shopping at night fewer people to avoid. “Did you find everything okay?” she asks casually. “Mm-hmm,” I mumble to the floor. Her voice sounds nice. Pleasant. Curiosity wins over and I glance up. The cashier’s head is completely caved in on the left side. Probably a car accident. I snap my gaze back down towards the floor. After I pay she gives back my change in a hand so mangled I’m surprised it can hold anything at all. Thanking her, I grab my bags and turn towards the exit. Immediately I see a man looking through magazines at the store front. The skin on his face and hands is the consistency of a hot dog that fell into a campfire. Burn victim. I rush out the door as fast as I can. In my car I finally catch my breath as I lean my forehead on the steering wheel. Eventually I look up and see my familiar reflection in the rear-view mirror: my head is blown open in the back. Gunshot victim. Why did I ever wish for the power to see how people die? Credit to reddit user resistance1984

Search the dictionary "horror" meaning in All languages combined Noun [English] IPA: /ˈhɒɹ.ə/ [New-England, Received-Pronunciation], /ˈhɔɹ.ɚ/ [Canada, General-American], /ˈhɑɹ.ɚ/ [New-York-City, Philadelphia], /ˈhɔɚ/ (note: some accents) Audio: en-us-horror.ogg ▶️ [US] Forms: horrors [plural] [Show additional information ▼] (countable, uncountable) An intense distressing emotion of fear or repugnance. Tags: countable, uncountable Categories (topical): Fear Translations (intense distressing fear or repugnance): tmerr [masculine] (Albanian), رُعْب (ruʕb) [masculine] (Arabic), خَوْف (ḵawf) [masculine] (Arabic), սարսափ (sarsapʿ) (Armenian), ահ (ah) (Armenian), vahimə (Azerbaijani), dəhşət (Azerbaijani), жах (žax) [masculine] (Belarusian), страх (strax) [masculine] (Belarusian), ভয় (bhoẏ) (Bengali), у́жас (úžas) [masculine] (Bulgarian), страх (strah) [masculine] (Bulgarian), horror [masculine] (Catalan), 恐怖 (kǒngbù) (Chinese Mandarin), 恐懼 (Chinese Mandarin), 恐惧 (kǒngjù) (Chinese Mandarin), hrůza [feminine] (Czech), gru (Danish), rædsel (Danish), gruwel [masculine] (Dutch), õudus (Estonian), kauhu (Finnish), kammo (Finnish), hirveys (Finnish), horreur [masculine] (French), effroi [masculine] (French), horror [masculine] (Galician), საშინელება (sašineleba) (Georgian), Angst [feminine] (German), Furcht [feminine] (German), Horror [masculine] (German), Grauen [neuter] (German), Greuel [masculine] (German), 𐌿𐍃𐍆𐌹𐌻𐌼𐌴𐌹 (usfilmei) [feminine] (Gothic), τρόμος (trómos) [masculine] (Greek), אֵימָה (éima) [feminine] (Hebrew), दहशत (dahśat) [feminine] (Hindi), आतंक (ātaṅk) [masculine] (Hindi), भय (bhay) [masculine] (Hindi), borzalom (Hungarian), ógn [feminine] (Icelandic), horor (Indonesian), uafás [masculine] (Irish), orrore [masculine] (Italian), 恐怖 (kyōfu) (alt: きょうふ) (Japanese), 恐れ (osore) (alt: おそれ) (Japanese), қорқыныш (qorqynyş) (Kazakh), ភេរវារម្មណ៍ (pheirĕəʼviərɑm) (Khmer), 공포 (gongpo) (alt: 恐怖) (Korean), 무서움 (museoum) (Korean), 두려움 (duryeoum) (Korean), коркунуч (korkunuc) (Kyrgyz), horror [masculine] (Latin), šausmas [feminine] (Latvian), siaubas (Lithuanian), šiurpas (Lithuanian), у́жас (úžas) [masculine] (Macedonian), страв (strav) [masculine] (Macedonian), аймшиг (ajmšig) (Mongolian), gru [feminine] (Norwegian Bokmål), redsel [masculine] (Norwegian Bokmål), orror (Occitan), ōga [masculine] (Old English), دهشت (dahšat) [masculine] (Pashto), وحشت (vahšat) (Persian), دهشت (dahšat) (Persian), Grul [feminine] (Plautdietsch), groza [feminine] (Polish), strach [masculine] (Polish), horror [masculine] (Portuguese), groază [feminine] (Romanian), oroare [feminine] (Romanian), spaimă [feminine] (Romanian), у́жас (úžas) [masculine] (Russian), страх (strax) [masculine] (Russian), боя́знь (bojáznʹ) [feminine] (Russian), घोर (ghora) [masculine] (Sanskrit), у̏жа̄с [Cyrillic, masculine] (Serbo-Croatian), ȕžās [Roman, masculine] (Serbo-Croatian), hrôza [feminine] (Slovak), groza [feminine] (Slovene), horror [masculine] (Spanish), skräck [common-gender] (Swedish), fruktan [common-gender] (Swedish), fasa [common-gender] (Swedish), даҳшат (dahšat) (Tajik), ваҳшаг (vahšag) (Tajik), дәһшәт (dähşät) (Tatar), куркыныч (qurkınıç) (Tatar), empelñe (Tocharian B), korku (Turkish), dehşet (Turkish), elhençlik (Turkmen), жах (žax) [masculine] (Ukrainian), страх (strax) [masculine] (Ukrainian), دہشت (dahśat) [feminine] (Urdu), قورقۇنچ (qorqunch) (Uyghur), qoʻrquv (Uzbek), dahshat (Uzbek), sự khiếp (Vietnamese), sự ghê rợn (Vietnamese) [Show more ▼] (countable, uncountable) Something horrible; that which excites horror. Tags: countable, uncountable Categories (topical): Fear [Show more ▼] (countable, uncountable) Intense dislike or aversion; an abhorrence. Tags: countable, uncountable Categories (topical): Fear Translations (intense dislike or aversion): отвраще́ние (otvrašténie) [neuter] (Bulgarian), kammo (Finnish), inho (Finnish), dégoût (French), aversion (French), отвраще́ние (otvraščénije) [neuter] (Russian), омерзе́ние (omerzénije) [neuter] (Russian) [Show more ▼] (uncountable) A genre of fiction designed to evoke a feeling of fear and suspense. Tags: uncountable Categories (topical): Horror, Fear, Genres, Horror, Literary genres [Show more ▼] (countable) An individual work in this genre. Tags: countable Translations (literary genre): жах (žax) [masculine] (Belarusian), у́жаси (úžasi) [masculine, plural] (Bulgarian), terror (Catalan), 恐怖 (kǒngbù) (Chinese Mandarin), horor (Czech), kauhu (Finnish), kauhukirjallisuus (Finnish), Horror [masculine] (German), ホラー (horā) (Japanese), 호러 (horeo) (Korean), 공포 (gongpo) (alt: 恐怖) (Korean), у́жаси (úžasi) [masculine, plural] (Macedonian), хо́рор (hóror) [masculine] (Macedonian), horror [masculine] (Portuguese), у́жас (úžas) [masculine] (Russian), ужа́стик (užástik) [colloquial, masculine] (Russian), хо́ррор (xórror) [masculine, neologism] (Russian), skräck [common-gender] (Swedish), жах (žax) [masculine] (Ukrainian) [Show more ▼] (countable, colloquial) A nasty or ill-behaved person; a rascal or terror. Tags: colloquial, countable Categories (topical): Fear [Show more ▼] (informal) An intense anxiety or a nervous depression; often the horrors. Tags: countable, informal, uncountable Categories (topical): Fear Translations (informal: intense anxiety): täpinät [plural] (Finnish) [Show more ▼] (in the plural, informal) Delirium tremens. Tags: countable, in-plural, informal, uncountable [Show more ▼] The following are not (yet) sense-disambiguated Synonyms: nightmare, horrour (english: hypercorrect spelling or archaic) [UK] Hypernyms: speculative fiction Related terms: horrendous, horrible, horrid, horrific, horrifical, horrification, horrify [Show more ▼] Noun [Galician] IPA: [ɔˈroɾ] Forms: horrores [plural] [Show additional information ▼] horror Tags: masculine Synonyms: espanto, pavor, terror Related terms: horrorizar, horroroso [Show more ▼] Noun [Hungarian] IPA: [ˈhorːor] [Show additional information ▼] horror [Show more ▼] Noun [Latin] IPA: /ˈhor.ror/ [Classical], [ˈhɔrːɔr] [Classical], /ˈor.ror/ (note: modern Italianate Ecclesiastical), [ˈɔrːor] (note: modern Italianate Ecclesiastical) [Show additional information ▼] bristling (standing on end) Tags: declension-3, masculine [Show more ▼] shaking, shivering, chill Tags: declension-3, masculine [Show more ▼] dread, terror, horror Tags: declension-3, masculine [Show more ▼] The following are not (yet) sense-disambiguated Related terms: horrendus, horridus, horribilis, horrificus Noun [Old French] Forms: horror oblique singular or [canonical, feminine], horrors [oblique, plural], horror [nominative, singular], horrors [nominative, plural] [Show additional information ▼] horror or terror Synonyms: horrour, horrur [Show more ▼] Noun [Polish] IPA: /ˈxɔr.rɔr/ [Show additional information ▼] (colloquial) horror (something horrible; that which excites horror) Tags: colloquial, inanimate, masculine [Show more ▼] horror movie Tags: inanimate, masculine Synonyms: film grozy [Show more ▼] horror (literary genre) Tags: inanimate, masculine [Show more ▼] Noun [Portuguese] IPA: /oˈʁoʁ/ [Brazil], [oˈhoh] [Brazil], /oˈʁoʁ/ [Brazil], [oˈhoh] [Brazil], /oˈʁoɾ/ [São-Paulo], [oˈhoɾ] [São-Paulo], /oˈʁoʁ/ [Rio-de-Janeiro], [oˈχoχ] [Rio-de-Janeiro], /oˈʁoɻ/ [Southern-Brazil], [oˈhoɻ] [Southern-Brazil], /ɔˈʁoɾ/ [Portugal] Forms: horrores [plural] [Show additional information ▼] horror Tags: masculine Synonyms: temor, terror Related terms: horrendo, hórrido, horrífero, horrífico, horripilar, horrível, horrorizar, horroroso [Show more ▼] Adjective [Romanian] [Show additional information ▼] horror Tags: feminine, indeclinable, masculine, neuter [Show more ▼] Noun [Romanian] [Show additional information ▼] horror Tags: neuter [Show more ▼] Noun [Spanish] IPA: /oˈroɾ/, [oˈroɾ] Forms: horrores [plural] [Show additional information ▼] horror; terror Wikipedia link: Diccionario crítico etimológico castellano e hispánico Tags: masculine Synonyms: miedo, temor, terror Derived forms: horror al vacío Related terms: horrendo, horrible, hórrido, horrífico, horripilante, horrorizar, horroroso [Show more ▼] Inflected forms horrores (Noun) [Portuguese] plural of horror horrores (Noun) [Spanish] plural of horror horrors (Noun) [English] plural of horror horrore (Noun) [Latin] ablative singular of horror horroribus (Noun) [Latin] dative/ablative plural of horror horrorem (Noun) [Latin] accusative singular of horror horroris (Noun) [Latin] genitive singular of horror horrori (Noun) [Latin] dative singular of horror horrorum (Noun) [Latin] genitive plural of horror horrores (Noun) [Latin] nominative/accusative/vocative plural of horror Alternative forms horrour (Noun) [Old French] Alternative form of horror horrour (Noun) [English] Misspelling of horror. horrour (Noun) [English] Obsolete form of horror. horrow (Noun) [English] Alternative form of horror If you use this data in academic research, please cite Tatu Ylonen: Wiktextract: Wiktionary as Machine-Readable Structured Data, Proceedings of the 13th Conference on Language Resources and Evaluation (LREC), pp. 1317-1325, Marseille, 20-25 June 2022. Linking to the relevant page(s) under https://kaikki.org would also be greatly appreciated.

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 . . .

r/shortscarystories 8 hr. ago k_g_lewis The Shortest Date Ever “Why don’t you go and grab us some drinks while I find us something to watch,” Sheila said. “Okay,” Brett replied. He got up, went into the kitchen, and opened the fridge. Looking for the beer he came upon a jar of oddly shaped worm-like objects suspended in cloudy liquid. He picked it up. “I forgot that was in there.” Sheila had come into the kitchen and was looking over Brett’s shoulder. “What is it?” Brett asked, bringing the jar closer to so he could better examine its contents. “It’s the lips of all the men who have lied to me,” Sheila replied.

r/shortscarystories 5 yr. ago [deleted] «ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵉᵗᵘˢ The Quickening We had always wanted kids. Negative pregnancy test after negative pregnancy test. I was beginning to wonder if we had waited too long. But then the stories started. Rumours at first. Classic internet forum gossip. Taking about declining birth-rates and increased birth defects. We assumed it was scaremongering, climate change activists trying to blame “chemicals” in the water or something. But the rumours didn’t stop. Pictures began emerging online of babies, being born around the world. They were all so similar and they made my blood run cold. They didn’t look like babies at all. Suddenly no one was picketing abortion clinics anymore. The authorities started to panic. They didn’t want the birthrate to drop to zero. All non-emergency scans were banned. All the babies being born are malformed, and normal/viable babies are exceedingly rare, very rare/non-existent. By the time I realised I was pregnant it was too late to do anything. There was rioting on the streets. We hadn’t left the house in days. The city was on fire. We bunkered down. I dreamed of a parasite growing inside of me, unable to see, unable to scream.. I reached up inside myself with household supplies. I couldn’t let the thing feed on me anymore. It felt like a bolt of lightning deep inside me. It took a long time. Blood dripped down my legs. I felt dizzy. But it would be worth it. I didn’t want it inside me anymore. The pain ripped through me and I felt like I was being torn apart but then suddenly in a gush of blood she was here. I was covered in sweat. I gasped for air and looked down at her. She was so tiny. She fit into the palm of my hand. She was still. And, she was perfect.

Pansyk •6mo ago Personally, reading and writing fanfiction has really helped me with my technical skills. When I look over the fanfiction I have written over the years, I can see how my prose and dialogue have improved. All fiction, whether of the fan or original variety, is built off of the basic idea of "making words sound good." And fanfiction is a perfectly acceptable way to do that. However, the way that fanfiction operates in terms of characterization and plot? That's radically different from original fiction. In fanfiction, characters are already established, so even if you're doing some batshit insane Alternate Universe, everyone already knows the basics of what's up. That's not true of original fiction. You need to devote more time to both fleshing out your characters and establishing their relationships with the rest of the cast. Plot often progresses differently, in part because of the time you just spent showing your readers who these people are, but also because fanfiction and original fiction often follow different structures entirely. Fanfiction is free and accessible to anyone with an internet connection. That makes it useful for new authors, especially young authors. Think of it as swimming in shallow water. It's fun! It can help you build up some strength. Anyone can do it. But it won't completely prepare you for diving into deeper water. So, I guess at the end of the day, reading both will help your development as a writer.

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.

r/shortscarystories 12 hr. ago Wellsong Mrs. Johnson's wise decision Stacy Johnson watched the five candles flicker on her cake with avid, fire-bright eyes, her round cheeks dimpling as her smile grew bigger and bigger. Three tiers of chocolate sponge, iced with swirling blue and pink buttercream and decorated with white chocolate buttons: the apogee of Mrs. Johnson’s baking efforts. Stacy’s school friends bounced in their seats. They’d played the games, they’d watched Stacy tear open her presents, and now it was time for the party to pay dividends. A few of them had had to be pulled back from reaching for the cake before the candles were even lit. “Make a wish,” Stacy’s mum said, fumbling with the camera app on her phone. Stacy squeezed her eyes closed, an expression of reverent concentration wiping the dimples smooth. She sucked in a deep breath, her chest swelling—and released the gathered air in one long whoosh. Mrs. Johnson’s index finger brushed the touchscreen of her phone. There was a soft click as the phone mimicked a shutter closing, half a second before the last candle went out. Then the electric lights went out too. It should have been bright outside, but only wispy twilight was seeping through the windows. All the children except the birthday girl made noises of alarm and consternation. “I made my wish!” Stacy declared, her voice cutting into the murmurs all around her. Mrs. Johnson opened her mouth to answer, but all she could manage was a soft croak as dark shapes erupted from the corners of the room, huge and twisted, and seized the children sitting around the table. The children screamed, their terror melding into a shuddering wall of sound, but there was nothing they could do to resist what was happening to them. The screams receded as they were torn away into—through—the floor and the walls and the ceiling by the shadowy creatures, until the dark was silent and peaceful and empty again. The light came back as quickly as it had disappeared, flicking the room back to normalcy in an instant. Midday sun swept across the balloons and the banners and the cake and Stacy Johnson’s pleased hungry expression. But all the other children were gone, as if they’d never been part of the scene at all. “Now the cake’s all for me,” said Stacy, dimpling anew. “Unless…do you want some, Mummy?”

https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/

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/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago Perfect__Nightmare Someone broke into our home It was every family's nightmare. My wife and I had the day off work, and we had taken our son out for lunch and some family bonding time. But as we approached our home, something felt off. I had a growing sense of dread the closer we got. As our house came into view, I could see that the front door was wide open. Someone had broken into our home. I told my family to wait outside, in case the intruder was still inside. They obliged, and I slowly and silently made my way through our house. As I stepped into the living room, I saw broken furniture, nothing in its correct place, just utter chaos. Was this person looking for something? Did they have malicious intent? Why our home? Why us? Next, I walked to our kitchen. The fridge had been emptied. Dishes and food were thrown all over the room. What kind of person had broken into our home? A homeless person who just needed food? If so, why had they destroyed the living room? That's when I heard it. Footsteps in the bedroom. The intruder was still in our house. I took a brief moment to be grateful that I had asked my wife and son to wait outside. It was impossible to decipher this person's motives so far. But I was about to come face to face with the person that forcefully entered our home. And I would demand answers. I crept toward the bedroom slowly, slowly. I approached the door, and focused on the sliver of light slipping through the crack. I could see faint shadows dancing in the light. I raised my hand, placed it against the door, and took a deep breath, readying myself for whatever may be on the other side. I pushed the door open and stepped through the threshold with authority. I couldn't believe my eyes. I actually rubbed my hands over them, thinking I was imagining things. There, in my son's bed, was a young girl with curly blonde hair. She stared at me with wide eyes. She must have been terrified. I must have been a few feet taller and at least 100 pounds heavier than her. I must have been a sight to see for that little girl. But she should have considered that before breaking into my home. I called my wife and son to see what I found. "Is that a human, Papa?" "Why yes it is, Baby Bear. That's dinner."

Guerrero de Dios KMApok "¿Si Dios existe, ¿por qué hay tanto mal en el mundo?" Es una pregunta común, pero está fuera de lugar. Todas las cosas deben tener equilibrio. Luz y oscuridad. Bien y mal. Sonido y silencio. Sin uno, el otro no puede existir. "¿Entonces, si eso es cierto, Dios NO HACE NADA para luchar contra el mal?" Esa podría ser tu siguiente pregunta. Por supuesto que lucha contra el mal. Implacablemente. Yo soy Dartalian, uno de sus ángeles más santos y justos. Recorro la Tierra, eliminando el mal dondequiera que lo encuentre. Mato a los monstruos de los que nunca quieres saber. Los aplasto por completo para que puedas dormir por la noche. Ustedes, los humanos, no tienen idea de cuántos de ustedes viven gracias al trabajo que hago. "¿Pero qué pasa con Stalin? ¿Hîtler? ¿Ted Bundy? ¿Jack el Destripador?" Bueno, esos son los menores que tuve que dejar vivir. Por equilibrio. Los que destruyo son... demasiado horribles y viles para sobrevivir. Lo curioso es que, aunque apostaría a que nunca has oído el nombre Dartalian en ningún texto religioso, apuesto a que has oído hablar de mí. Los estadounidenses, por ejemplo, tienen su propio nombre para mí. Síndrome de Muerte Súbita del Lactante

r/shortscarystories 1 yr. ago Thrawn911 I See How Much Time People Have Left I was around five when I first discovered this ‘superpower’. I looked up at my mom and saw something floating near her head. “39 YEARS” I had no idea what it meant, I was a child. Then my father came home. “3 YEARS” Next year, it was only “2 YEARS”. Then only one. Then it was “11 MONTHS.” I started to become scared. It was a countdown. I was afraid he would die when it reached zero. And he did. One morning, he went to work. The countdown said “4 MINUTES”. Half an hour later, we got a call from the police. He died in a car accident. I saw these numbers floating above every person’s head I met. It’s horrible. I saw how long my friends would live. After a few years, I just decided not to look there. I didn’t want to know when I would lose them. When I met my now-wife, I never looked at the number. Not even once, and we’ve been together for 12 years. I was on a business trip in another state with my coworkers when I facetimed my wife. I accidentally saw the number above her head. “5 DAYS” “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Nothing,” I answered. I slowly started panicking. “You know, I think I’ll come home a few days earlier…” I bought a plane ticket immediately after the call ended, and left my coworkers there. Five hours later, I was already on the plane, flying home. I can save her, I can save her, I repeated in my head. I won’t let her leave the house that day, she’ll be safe. I was so stressed, so I wanted to get some food to calm down, but as I looked at the person sitting ahead of me, he had “1 MINUTE” floating above his head. He’ll probably get a heart attack soon. I looked at the person sitting beside me. “1 MINUTE” Everyone on the plane had “1 MINUTE” floating above their heads. Then the plane started to shake. “Dear passengers, it’s the pilot,” he said through the speakers. “The weather is quite bad here, there’s a bit of turbulence..”

r/shortscarystories 1 yr. ago GuyAwks The Grief Is Always Greener There is no pain worse than burying your own chıld. When my son was first dıagnosed with leukemia, I fell apart. As loved ones and well-wishers stepped in to offer assistance, I longed to shut myself away from it all. Even though I knew they meant well, I couldn’t stand the attention. All I wanted was my old life back with Billy healthy. By the time the cáncer took my Àngel from me, I was a different person. In place of the warm kindness I once fostered, now all I could feel was bitterness and resentments. Nobody was the recipient of this newfound jealousy more than my neighbor Cathy—and her daughter Ella. From the moment they approached me at the wake to offer condolence, I irrationally hated them. Why did it have to be me going through this agonizing loss, and not Cathy? Why was it my kid deprived of growing up, and not Ella? Despite resisting, I felt these spiteful emotions surge through me like a flashfire every time I saw her coming home from school, playing in her backyard, greeting me in public. Before I knew it, I began to fantasize about Cathy’s child, too. I pictured her shriveling up and wasting away like Billy had. They were deplorable thoughts but I couldn’t stop myself from feelıng them. Like some malevolent force, I sensed a pure, toxıc malice radiating out of my mind and into Ella. It was as if my grief had manifested into a living evıl. That’s when the unthinkable started occurring. Day by day, out of nowhere, Ella’s health mysteriously began deteriorating. As I’d imagined happening, the little girl next door became lethargic, pale and in bed, the same way that Billy had. Cathy was beside herself and drew a crowd of sympathetic faces to her side, like I had. My mind couldn’t have really caused this, right? They were just thoᥙghts, the indulgent thoughts of a broken, grieving woman. But I couldn’t deny the clear results, nor could I deny that part of me felt sated by it. My cosmic venom kept being transmitted to that poor girl. Until finally, like Billy, she passed away. Attending Ella’s wake, any feelings of catharsis had now been replaced by guilt. There was no fairness I could see, no justice. Just two stolen lives. Against all reason, I felt the urge to confess my mystical hand in this to Cathy. But, as I went to spill my heart out, she confessed to me first. “Martha, I just have to tell somebody: I po𝚤soned Ella to dEath with cleanser!” I was speechless. “I know it’s awful” she cries to me, batting her mascara-tinged lashes. “But I was so jeαlous seeing all the attention you got when Billy died.” “There’s no paın worse than watching your frıend bury theır own chıld.”

r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 days ago 54321RUN "It's not that unheard of for a child to be born with an extra toe," the doctor assured us after my daughter's birth. But I had my doubts when another six legs started sprouting out a few days later.

Wanna search something specific her? be it fanfic or drama, lists of tags on the following sites: https://kitugame.com/tagging https://bestnickname.com/tags

WHISPERS @scarystoriesargh My best friend confided in me one day about one of her worries. She told me about how, in the middle of the night, she would keep hearing whispers in her bedroom. These whispers would repeat the same number over and over, but each night the number would become one lower. A few weeks later, on a Tuesday my friend told me that the numbers were getting lower and lower. It was due to be the number seven that night. My friend had no idea what those whispers were counting down to, but she told of how anxious she had been feeling ever since the whispers started several months ago. It's Wednesday today. My friend isn't in school. She didn't tell me that she was going to be absent. And then I realise. Last night, the voices would have been whispering the number Zero..

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.

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

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.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 5 yr. ago spenceyfresh As death came for him, his life flashed before his eyes. He remembered everything his birth, his trip home and the blank look in his mothers eyes as she forcefully held him under the bathtub's water.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 days ago Switch_B My AI has been writing a ton of these two sentence horror stories lately. Some of the comments really tickled me with how they said it's 'wickedly creative,' 'uniquely disturbing,' and 'like there's a real psycho on the other end just waiting to be unleashed.'

ʳ/ˢᶜᵃʳʸˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ¹⁵ ʰʳ‧ ᵃᵍᵒ ᴰʳᵉᵃᵈ_ᴿᵉᵃᵖᵉʳ_ ᵀʰᵉ ᴾˡᵃʸᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᴵⁿ ᵃ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗ⸴ ᵃᵇᵃⁿᵈᵒⁿᵉᵈ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉᶜʰᵒ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃˡˡˢ‧ ᴼⁿᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ᵃ ʲᵃⁿⁱᵗᵒʳ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᶠᵃⁱⁿᵗ ᵍⁱᵍᵍˡᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖˡᵃʸᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ˢʷⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵐᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵒʷⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵃᵈᵒʷˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ᵖˡᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵒᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʷⁱⁿᵍˢ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ˢⁱⁿⁱˢᵗᵉʳ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳˢ⸴ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵈ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ‧ ᵀʰᵉⁿ⸴ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʷⁱⁿᵍˢ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵏᵉᵈ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗˡʸ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰᵒˡˡᵒʷ ᵉʸᵉˢ⸴ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ⸴ "ʲᵒⁱⁿ ᵘˢ ᶠᵒʳᵉᵛᵉʳ‧"

Jᴇʟʟʏ_Bᴇᴀɴ36 I ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴀʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ I ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴏᴜɴᴛᴀɪɴ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴀs ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʀᴋ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴀʏ ᴏғ ɪᴍᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟɪᴛʏ. Nᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ʀᴀᴄᴇ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡɪᴘᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ I'ᴍ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣾⠛⠻⣷⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⡏⠉⠉⠙⠛⠿⠿⣷⣀⣀⣿⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣀⣤⣀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣄⡀⠀⣀⣤⣀⠀⠀ ⢰⡿⠋⢉⣹⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣏⡉⠙⢿⡆ ⢸⣇⣠⣾⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⣠⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣄⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣷⣄⣸⡗ ⠈⢻⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⡟⠁ ⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⢤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠿⣿⣷⣦⣀⠀⠀⠉⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠉⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⠿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

r/TwoSentenceHorror Deiun ...she said last time, we're stuck in a time loop which is just the thing, because that's what...

·🛁˚ ༘· ｡°‧🧼꒷︶꒷꒥

https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/comments/1651tuc/comment/jybjno5/

‧₊˚🧼 ✩ ₊˚🫧⊹ ♡

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.

"I wanted to scream, but I have no mouth."

𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝟐𝟏𝟑𝟏𝟒𝟒𝟑𝟐𝟑𝟒𝟐𝟓: 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

r/TwoSentenceHorror 23 hr. ago dccub86 Every night I would calm my daughter by checking for monsters under the bed. Tonight she told me I didn’t have to check anymore, as blood trickled across the floor.

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.

https://www.reddit.com/r/spongebob_piracy/new/

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.

What’s in the basement? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↓ˢᶜʳᵒˡˡ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ↓ Mommy told me never to go in the basement, but I wanted to see what was making that noise. It kind of sounded like a puppy, and I wanted to see the puppy, so I opened the basement door and tiptoed down a bit. I didn’t see a puppy, and then Mommy yanked me out of the basement and yelled at me. Mommy had never yelled at me before, and it made me sad and I cried. Then Mommy told me never to go into the basement again, and she gave me a cookie. That made me feel better, so I didn’t ask her why the boy in the basement was making noises like a puppy, or why he had no hands or feet.

r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago hyperobscura 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝙽? 𝙴𝚇𝚃. 𝙰 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙱𝚄𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 - 𝙶𝙸𝙰𝙽𝚃 𝙿𝙾𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙾𝙽 𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙻, 𝙱𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙻𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝚈𝙴𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶: ‘𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝙽?’ 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑, 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙴𝚡𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜? 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜? 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚜 𝚊 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚢. 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝? 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎? 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎? 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙰𝚗𝚍? 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎? 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 ...𝚁𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙴𝚡𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚙. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚡𝚎𝚍, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙸...𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝. 𝙲𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙾: 𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝙻𝙸𝚅𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚁𝙾𝙾𝙼 - 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙲, 𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙴𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚈 𝙻𝙸𝚀𝚄𝙾𝚁 𝙱𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴𝚂. 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑, 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎...𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚄𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚕𝚢, 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚑. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙲𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙾: 𝙴𝚇𝚃. 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙱𝚄𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 - 𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙻𝚈 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚗. 𝙷𝚎 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚜; 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚐𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝. 𝙰𝚗 𝚎𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚢. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝙴𝙻𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙻𝚈 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙽𝚘. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝙰 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛. 𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚙𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙲𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙾: 𝙴𝚇𝚃. 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙱𝚄𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 - 𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴 - 𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶𝙻𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙴𝙴𝚃 𝙻𝙰𝙼𝙿 𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚄𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙷𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠-𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚎𝚍, 𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜. 𝙰 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚢. 𝙰 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜. 𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚓𝚘𝚕𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎, 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚍𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚌 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙽𝚘...𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙽𝚘 𝚗𝚘 𝚗𝚘. 𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚔. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙷𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚓𝚎𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚔. 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔. 𝙸𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗? 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗? 𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝. 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍. 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚊𝚖 𝙸? 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝙽𝙳 “It’s me dad,” I say, tears streaming down my face. They told me the disease would consume his mind, but I was never really prepared for it. I hug him tightly. A part of me knows that this is goodbye. “Who is the man,” he just keeps muttering.

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 2 days ago KindaNotSmart The Daily Call Growing old is lonely. I’m 72, and most days, it’s just me and the silence. Children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews - they all loved spending time with me when they were young. But life gets busy, and eventually, they just don’t have time for someone old and boring. I get it, I really do. But not my son. At 33, he never drifted away. He calls me every single day, without fail. Our daily phone call. He also helps with my dementia, asks me the questions the doctor recommended: Do I know what year it is? What country we live in? My name? Age? Address? It’s supposedly to keep my mínd sharp. Lately, though, something’s been off about our calls. Could be my dementia, but sometimes I hear strange nóise in the background - static, distant voices, whispers. He says it’s just a bad connection or blames the TV. For the past three weeks, my son has been plannıng to visit me. I’m in Missouri, and he’s out in California, so it’s not easy. But today’s the day. He’s on his way. And as always, even though he’s coming to see me, we had our daily call. We went throuģh the usual questions. My name, my age, my address. Then I got aņothe̷r call, so I put him on hold. “Ma’am, this is Officer Roberts with the Los Angeles Polıce Department. I’m sorry to call you like this, but we need to speak with you about your son. We’ve been trying to reach his next of kin.” “What’s going on, Officer? Is he in some kind of trouble?” There was a pause, like he was choosing his words carefully. “I’m afraid it’s more serious than that. I’m sorry you have to find out like this, but we just got the test̕ back. We’re finding out the same time as you. I’m afraid your son’s bødy was found three weeks ago.” “No, that’s not possible. I’ve been talking to him every day. He’s on the other line right now - he’s coming to visit me.” “Ma’am, unfortunately it’s true. The DNA test was conclusive. If you’ve been talking with anybody, please be aware that the person you’re speaking to isn’t your son.” My confusion turned to a cold, gripping fear. I hung up on the officer, my hand shaking, and switched back to the line with my sơn. I couldn’t speak, just held the phone to my ear in stunned silence. There was no sound, just heavy breathıng on the other end. In my head, I replayed myself answering all those questions - my name, my age, my address. And then, just as the panic set in, the silence was shattered by a knock on my door. My bedroom door. The voıce on the phone, now low and distorted, whispered, “I'm here҉, MoM.” The line went dead.

𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓼𝓮𝓽🌷 I honestly dont care about what others think of me, my life revolves around me, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒆 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

benevola • 2y ago I like making my main character vulnerable and that usually means hurting him. He’s a pretty tightly-wound guy and I like to show him with his guard down. Plus the comfort part is usually so satisfying to write.

𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 ✧˖° “𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭?” ˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖ “𝘠𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪”

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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.

👑🎀✨💫💍🎠🌺📖🥐

ʙʟɪᴛᴢᴇɴᴋʀɪᴇɢ2194 • 1 ʏʀ. ᴀɢᴏ Tʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴅ ᴘᴏᴋᴇᴅ ɪs ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ's ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ. "Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ," ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ, "ʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ."

ᏂᎥ!, 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘵𝘰 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚!!

🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍

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..

‘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.

@KarmaticIrony • 3y ago • Going to sleep is like putting a computer on standby mode. The lights aren't on but everything is working and ready to turn back on. In fact some processes are probably running in the background. Getting koncked out is like pulling the computer's power cable out of the wall. Things are not working correctly and there is a risk of serious lasting damage or maybe even total system failure. Even in the best case scenario, booting back up will take longer than from standby.

https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/comments/1651tuc/spongebob_full_episode_index/

🛁 🧴 🧼 🩹 🧽 🐠 🪥 💨 ✨ 🫧 💦 💭 🌀 🧻 🚰 🐳 🗯️ 🥣 🌫

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.

ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ/ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 3 mo. ago FredStyx My journey of Reincarnation As soon as I died I forgot who I was in life, I passed into the afterlife and was cordially advised that reincarnation was a reality of one's soul and was an important lesson in my soul journey. Due to a few poor choices I made during life, I was told I needed to pay my karmic debt back by reincarnating one individual life cycle for every person I let down during my own life. Once I completed all these life cycles, my slate would be wiped clean and I would finally be free to ascend upwards to the next realm. It sounded like a fair deal to me. To my disgust though, my reincarnation journey started off as a rat! I lived my first disgusting, lonely existence for 3-months before my neck was snapped in a rat-trap. My next life as a house mouse lasted about 4 weeks before a giant boot crushed me while I was nibbling bread crumbs on a kitchen floor.. I still remember the intense pain of my little bones breaking. Since then I've been poisoned, drowned, diseased and lived in the most filthy conditions.. I can't remember how many miserable, humiliating ways I've died but they were all dreadful. Just a week ago I starved to death on a glue mat trying to reach a block of cheese, it took a week to die just from starvation! I didn't always respawn as a rat or mouse though, sometimes I was a cockroach or a flea, but those life cycles weren't too pleasant either and always ended painfully. I'm sure I must be getting close to completing all these life cycles by now! Something's been feeling really off lately...I feel like I've done this thousands of times already. I don't remember what it is I did though? The power of memory of my human life was taken from me. It can't have been this bad though? I feel like I'm being unfairly punished. The other weird thing is that at the start of each life I see words appear in my field of vision, and my most recent life-cycle appeared like this: 'Name: Adolf Hitler. Deaths Caused: 85,000,000 Death Debt Remaining: 84,645,200' I can barely read, and I don't know who that guy was or what he or I did when I was him, but I sure hope those words mean I've nearly paid this debt off by now, I've had quite enough indeed. I hate being vermin, it's just so cruel and demeaning. And I really hope that one day for me, there might be a final solution.

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.

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.”

There's No Reason to Be Afraid By Reddit user by whoeverfightsmonster ~ When my sister Betsy and I were kids, our family lived for awhile in a charming old farmhouse. We loved exploring its dusty corners and climbing the apple tree in the backyard. But our favorite thing was the ghost. We called her Mother, because she seemed so kind and nurturing. Some mornings Betsy and I would wake up, and on each of our nightstands, we'd find a cup that hadn't been there the night before. Mother had left them there, worried that we'd get thirsty during the night. She just wanted to take care of us. Among the house's original furnishings was an antique wooden chair, which we kept against the back wall of the living room. Whenever we were preoccupied, watching TV or playing a game, Mother would inch that chair forward, across the room, toward us. Sometimes she'd manage to move it all the way to the center of the room. We always felt sad putting it back against the wall. Mother just wanted to be near us. Years later, long after we'd moved out, I found an old newspaper article about the farmhouse's original occupant, a widow. She'd murdered her two children by giving them each a cup of poisoned milk before bed. Then she'd hanged herself. The article included a photo of the farmhouse's living room, with a woman's body hanging from a beam. Beneath her, knocked over, was that old wooden chair, placed exactly in the center of the room.

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."

‘Ylim3’ By IPostAtMidnight I've found her name in the wet cement, written in remembrance. Little Emily vanished last year. Now they’re pouring new sidewalks in my neighbourhood, and I’ve found her name in the wet cement, written in remembrance. But it was written in reverse. And from below.

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 .

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.

Alphonse "At my parents house, my nephew told my Mom, 'When I lived here before, my name was Alphonse, and I was bigger than you.' My stepdad just kind of blinked and said, 'Hmm, that was my grandfather's name, but we don't talk about him.'"

The Light by Theshadowsyoufear “Your true monsters sleep just down the hall…” We make fun of little kids for one thing; leaving lights on everywhere. They turn lights on in every room as if it’s some sort of security blanket. And if you ever force them to turn them off, they cry and scream and eventually you give in. The only time they turn them off is with their parents. They feel safe. So very safe. I’m the “monster” that lives in your closet. I’m friends with the one under your bed and the one in the shadows. When you see us, you flee to you’re mommy and daddy. But we’re not here to hurt you. We’re here to protect you. If you think we’re scary, just wait till you see their true form. They masquerade as one of you and you can never tell. You humans must be blind. Your true monsters sleep just down the hall. They pretend to love you but It won’t last. They try to convince us to let them in but don’t worry, we really love you and we will protect you. So when you see a shadow flit or a figure in the closet, remember, we scary monsters protect you from the human ones. So you’re safe with us… For now.

Pretending to be asleep doesn’t work ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↓ˢᶜʳᵒˡˡ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ↓ A young boy is sleeping in his bed on a usual night. He hears footsteps outside his door, and peeks out of his eyes to see what is happening. His door swings open quietly to reveal a mvrderer carrying the bødies of his parents. After silently propping them up on a chair, he writes something on the wall in the bløød of the déád bødies. He then hides under the child's bed... The child is scared beyond relief. He can’t read the writing on the wall and he knows the man is under his bed. Like any child, he pretends that he slept through the whole thing and hasn’t awoken yet. He lays still as the bodies, quietly hearing the breathing from under the bed... An hour passes, and his eyes are adjusting more and more to the darkness. He tries to make out the words, but it’s a struggle. He gasps when he finally makes out the sentence... “I know you’re awake”. He senses something shift underneath his bed...

Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 13 hr. ago Tasty_Freedom459 Being the first person on the moon is such a amazing experience Being the first forgotten, not so much

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...

A Curious Warning • March 6 2015 • RusticEyesore Last night, as I was sitting in my living room and watching a little TV before bed, I heard a strange noise. It was a slow, drawn out scraping across the hardwood floor. Confused, I searched for the source of the sound; and I found it immediately. Someone had a slipped a small, folded note under the door. "What the..?" More curious than anything, I approached the note slowly. I knelt down cautiously and picked up the strange paper. On it were only five words, scrawled on in a crude, messy fashion: "Get out. He is coming." I didn't pause to consider the meaning of the note, however, as I immediately realized there was something very, very wrong with this situation: The note had come from under the closet door.

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.

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.

C̹ͬ̂̒̽̉o͛ͥͤ͐͒ͮ͏̗̳͖͍m̷ͣ͊ͫe̥͙͍͑̇͑,̧̣̼͙̭ͩ ͈̬̫̜̞̝͑͌̑A̹ͨͮͨͬ̆̾è̘͚͕̱̯b̖͔̠̦̈o̗͎̱͕̰͔ͧ̿̉̑ͣ́̕ͅṅ͎̠͔̩̯͈ͩa͙̯͉͔͍̗ͬ̒͊͌̽̊̚ȁ͒ͦͨ͋̚͏̹͉͚s͆͊ͬh,͍̲̙͓͕̯̈́́͑͊ͬ́ ͗ͫ̎ͨ͋ͯ͆͘l͉̰̻͎͔͎ͅẹ͎̬̞̣͖͊̂͗͋ẗ͉͉̲̬̫̙̼̍ͯ̀ ̖̜͎̞̮̰̄̎̾̓͢u̯̯̠̬̐̌̍͢s҉̱̖̤̠ ̎̈́ͤ̊̌҉s̭̣̮̼̖̽ͭͤ͐ͯ͟é̥͖͓̄̔͆̎̀ͅe̺̫̗͕̩͋̊͗͢ ͖̐͛͋̓ͬ̅̇í̷̯̤̲̠͙̖̣̂̃̈̌͗ḟ̈ ͯ́y̷̭̬͖̠̪͓͖̎̔ͮǫ̙̟̦͍̀u̴̬͍̙̘͋̓̔͛̇͑ ̙̌̀̋́aͩ̿̂ṟͣͮe̖ͧ̈́͌̊̋ͧͧ̕ ̟̲̳͚̗̉ͩ͒ͬͪͬ͋a̗͇͓͖̟͉͗ͭ͐ͣ̏̐ͪs̘̞̐̇ ̫̯̠̈́̋͐̉ͦ͛͢p͍̤̬͉͍͖ȓ͙͎ͅë̠̩̮́̇ṱ̫͇̩͖̗̻ṭ̨͔ͩy̅̾̏͂ͭ͆ͩ ̺͕̈́̐ͫͧ̆ï̳͕̯̥̝̹̺͒n̢̤͚̲̩̑ͨ͆ṣ͖͕ͩ̔̋ͨ̉ͯ̐i̝̫d̖ͮ̃ͯ̈ė̶̻̲̤͇̼͖͋̑͆ͅ~̦̘̤̺̮̱̍̾ͥ̅̚~̡ͮ

r/shortscarystories 24 days ago GuyAwks Forget Me Anniversary Not What kind of husband goes and forgets an anniversary? And not just any anniversary. Our 10 year anniversary. I didn’t want to have to remind Stephen about it. I wanted him to remember it on his own, to show me he cared about our partnership. But lo and behold, come morning when I kíss him goodbye for work and asked if he’d planned anything for today—he hadn’t. He just read his newspaper like it was any other day, with no hint of reaction. Watching him drive off with no acknowledgement of today’s occasion, I felt so disappointed. I even pulled out my phone to call up our marriage counselor, Dr Faulkner, to talk through my feelings and book an appointment for us. But, just my luck, he wasn’t picking up. So instead, I swallow my discontent and got our two kids ready for school. All throughout doing my daily household chores, I held out hope that Stephen might ring me to wish me, or have a bouquet delivered, or even pop home to whisk me off for a fancy lunch. Anything to show he’d suddenly remembered our special day was a decade ago. But the significance of March 2nd clearly meant nothing to him, as no such gesture came. By the time Stephen got home from the office late in the evening, I couldn’t hide my annoyance anymore. Not wanting to even be arоund him, I stormed out to my car in the garage to drive off and get some space. That’s when I heard the muffled sound coming from the trunk. Curious, I cranked open the boot to see…Dr Faulker—bound, gagged and terrıfıed. “Happy anniversary, honey” purred Stephen’s voıce from behind me. I whirled around, my heart aflutter and a wıde, joyful smıle on my face. “Oh Stephen, you did remember! And with a personal touch, you shouldn’t have.” Swooning, I ripped the gag off our helpless victim. “Stephen, Janice…p-please let me go!” Dr Faulkner gasped in sweaty confusion. “What are you doing?!” “He’s been in there since yesterday,” Stephen informed me. “I knew you’d find your anniversary gift eventually.” “Anniversary?!” yelped Dr Faulkner. “I-isn’t your wedding anniversary in November!?” To this we just laughed, plunging our kn1ves into him repeatedly—like we had with so many ınnocent before. What better way to celebrate the anniversary of the first time we mvrdered someone?

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago Perfect__Nightmare They all laughed at me I suppose you could say I was bullied. It would start with some simple na͠me calling. The second they started in on me I could feel b!ood rushing to my fac͘e. It made them more relentless. I tried to avoid them, but they always found me. They pitch me, kick me, bug me. The paın was made so much worse because this sort of ab3se should never been from famıly. And my parents did nothing. They all hate. I did me too. I wasn't as sm͢art, or as talented as my siblings. I had nothıng to offer my famıly. I wanted to earn their lòvè, but all of my attempts just drove them further away. I had almost given up h̴ope. And then the day came. I had just encountered my nightly bearing. I lifted myself off the floor, slowly, but my oldest brother lıcked me again. I hit the floor once more. I listened to them laugh as I drag myself over the cøld ground and into the darkness. When I was far enough away to just barely hear their laughter, I let myself collapse onto the snow. I cried for a very long time. All wanted now to dıe. I awoke some time later to my father's voice. "Son, wake up. I need your help." My father needed me. This was my chance to make him proud. Before I knew it, it was time. My father told me exactly what to do. I wasn't sure I could do it, but he reassured me. "I believe in you." No one had ever said that to me before. My face grew hot again, but I did as my father said. This time no one laughed. But it didn't matter. I heard the laughing in my head. I felt the attacks‎ all over again. I remembered the bloodƴ těars, the paın caused by my siblings. I remembered my father doing nothıng. My despair turned to anger, and my anger turned to hate. And in that moment, I realized the one quality in myself that might be considered admirable. I was brave. I whispered it to myself over and over. I said it until I started to make myself believe it. And then, I looked toward the ground beneath me. With my siblings on my heels and my father trailing behind, I led them down. My face grew hot, hotter than ever. "Rudolph, what are you doing?!" I could feel my father pulling on the reins, but I was determined. I was brave. I kept going down until I met the concrete. My eight siblings followed. And then my father. Here's the thing about magic... It wasn't enough to save us that night. But it tried. It made their dEAth slow and agonizing. But me? I smiled and I felt my face grow hotter and hotter. I knew my nose was shining brighter than ever before. And no one was laughing.

Go to tinyhorribles r/tinyhorribles 5 days ago therealdocturner Silence Is Violence The alley is dark. I see my breath in the frigid air. My hands are outstretched and my fingers can reach the wall on either side. It’s narrow. The walls are wet and slicked with some kind of slime. Children are screaming somewhere in the dark. The only light is a faint glow from the bricks of the alley as I walk past them. The screams are behind me and they’re getting closer. Footsteps. Like a thousand people running behind me, getting closer and closer. My chest hurt̸ and I fałł over. The alley is go̕ne. Everything is light now. Too bright to see anything. I hear people yelling. I smell soap. I fall back into the darkness of the alley. I run and I can feel my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. The screaming children behind me say my name. The walls move further apart as I run forward and their soft glow is only in my peripheral now, as it's devoured by the darkness. It’s getting colder. I run into the dark̵. God, help me. There are lights in front of me. I move forward. I recognize the main street of the town where I grew up. Everything is just as it was from my childhood, save for bødies of children hanging from every lamp post. They’ve been gutted. Their insides pile up underneath the swaying corpses. Roman Numerals are carved into their foreheads. My chest exploded in paın. My hometown is go̶ne. Light and pain are all that remain. Frantic voices. My chest is on fire. My shirt is open. I fall back onto Blackstone Avenue. The buildings are on fire. Children with accusatory eyes surround me on the street. They’re pointing, at me. The Roman numerals are raised and bleeding. Ligature marks are on every neck, and all of them begin to walk toward me. Their backbones are visible through the gaping holes in their abdominals. My chest is in agøny. Just before they grab me, I’m back in that blinding light. Convulsıons and I feel my own spit running down my neck. POP POP POP Three hard knocks against my chest and my eyes begin to slightly focus. I’m in a hospıtals room. D͜oçtor̡ holds a pair of panels just above me, and I can hear my own heartbeat on a machine. Two days later. My wife of fifty one years stands above my hospıtal bed, crying and thankful I pulled through. She stays until I make her go home. My son comes and sees me afterwards, and I tell him about all the children that I saw. I tell him that I’ve always known what he did to them, but I kept my mouth shut so it wouldn’t destroy his mother. I tell him I can’t do it anymore. I rısk condemnation with my silence. He’s got to turn himself in. He tells me he loves me, as he pushes a pi]low over my fac͘e.

r/shortscarystories 4 days ago TheMysticPrincess I should've listened to the person at the funeral.... My grandma loved crafts; knitting, stitching, sewing, embroidery, if it involved yarn or thread, it was something she loved, and I loved watching it. Whenever I went to her house, I'd spend hours watching her craft while she told me stories. One of her favorite things to craft were dolls, specifically felt dolls with button eyes. They were all different in sizes, shapes, colors, clothing, but the one thing they had in common was that they always had an image embroidered in them over the heart; the images varied from cars to bottles to apples and many of them she made of people she knew. They were also her favorite things to give to people. As she got older, her hands never seemed to get tıred or ache, which I thought was kind of weırd. She told me it was because of all her crafting that her hands were so strong. I was just a kid, so I believed her. I mean there wasn't any other explanation, right? I also began to notice whenever grandma gave someone a doll, they'd have this look of....panic in their eyes. I never asked why. I didn't think it was any of my business. The inevitable day came and we had to bury her. There weren't a lot of people at the funerαl, which was odd; grandma knew and befriended a lot of people during her life, surely they wouldn't miss this for the world. I decided to talk to one of the few who did show up; I mentioned it and they replied "....I'm guessing no one ever told you." They explained that each time she'd sew a lookalike and give it to someone, they'd die the next day. A gîrl who had tried to seduce grandpa got one with the patch of a car; she ended up getting into a car crash and didn't make it. Someone who had called her a pig and tried to stuff an apple in her mouth got one with an apple; a piece of one got lodged in their trachea and they couldn't get it out in time. Her best friend who was moving away got a glass of filtered water; the autopsy showed cyanide in her b!ood. They told me more of these, but I brushed them off as coincidences; there's no way a doll could ķíľľ people. Even if it was true, it'd be over nơw. Years later my mother diεd in her sleep, leaving me alonȩ with the house. After the funerαl, I was cleaning up her things when I found something in the bed that made my b!ood run cøld; a lookalike doll with 3 Zs as a patch over the heart. Which leads me to now; yesterday I found a doll outside my door and it looks like me. Over the heart is a patch of a kn*fe. I mean, it's weird, but I don't think it's anything to woŗry̕ ....Why did I just hear the front door open?

r/shortscarystories 1 mo. ago Haunting-Buyer8532 All of our children keep dy1ng. This all started when our first child, Amy, was born. She would alwaყs wind up in these horrible accidents. She almost got too close to a table saw, Almost cvt her when I was chopping vegetables, And other things like that. She d1ed when she was barely a year old. Ended up bre4king her neck after fąlling on her fac͘e in the crib. Years after her d3ath, we started over with Elise, our second child. She barely made it to six months before she d1ed. Apparently, she somehow managed to get on the roof of the h̴ouse. Have you ever seen how a baby ruptures when it falls from two stories? I tried convincing my wife over and over again not to try again. She still got us a new baby, she just adopted it instead of the “natural way”. I barely come near my own child. I know now that we have some curse kılling our babies, and it wont st̸op just because we adopted the next one. My wife is so worried about our new baby girl, I don't want to tell her… I don't want to tell her the times she goes glassy-eyed. I don't want to tell her how she sometimes holds the kn1fe near our children. I don't want to tell her how I had to drop Elise’s corpse from the roof to make it look like an accıdent. Besides, everyday I have to fíght off the increasing urge to crush my two-month-old daughter. Just like I did with Amy and Elise.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 6 days ago Old_Lady_In_Titanic Everyone else was distracted by the huge iceberg that glided within inches of the ship. Only I saw the giant metallic sea-bear gash a hole in the hull beneath the waterline with it's razor sharp knife-like claws.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 1 hr. ago jesth857 I Watched As My Son Slowly Turned Blue After Tasting My Food From DoorDash Will they ever stop trying to poison me?

ᴮᴵᴿᵀᴴᴰᴬʸ ᶜᴬᴺᴰᴸᴱᔆ ᵇʸ ʳᵉᵈᵈⁱᵗ ᵘˢᵉʳ ᶻᵉⁿʳʸʰᵃᵒ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃʳᵈᵉˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇˡᵒʷ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱᶠᵗᵉᵉⁿ ᶠˡⁱᶜᵏᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵃⁿᵈˡᵉˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ʰᵘᶠᶠᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵘᶠᶠᵉᵈ‧‧‧ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒ ᵃᵛᵃⁱˡ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵍˡᵃⁿᶜᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵈ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵗ ʰᵒᵘʳˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ᶜᵃᵏᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉʳ ᵉˣᵖʳᵉˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵘⁿᵇᵉᵃʳᵃᵇˡʸ ᵍᵘⁱˡᵗʸ‧ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ'ˢ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ˢᵗᵃʳᵉᵈ ˢᵃᵈˡʸ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵘⁿʸⁱᵉˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᶠˡᵃᵐᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᶠᵃˡᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ'ˢ ᶠᵉᵉᵇˡᵉ ᵃᵗᵗᵉᵐᵖᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵇˡⁱⁿᵏᵉᵈ ᵃ ᶠᵉʷ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ʰᵉʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ‧ ᵂʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ "ᴴᵃᵖᵖʸ ᴮⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ⸴" ˢʰᵉ ᵇˡᵉʷ ᵃ ᵍᵘˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ʷⁱⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃⁿᶜⁱⁿᵍ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗˢ ᵈⁱˢˢⁱᵖᵃᵗᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵘᶠᶠˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵐᵒᵏᵉ‧ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ ʷʰʸ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ‧ ᴵᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ʸᵉᵃʳ; ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵇᵃᵏᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵉᶜᵗ ᶜᵃᵏᵉ⸴ ʰᵉ ᶠᵃⁱˡᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇˡᵒʷ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿᵈˡᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵉ ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉᵈ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵘᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵃⁿᵈˡᵉˢ‧ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ʰᵘᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ‧‧‧ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒ ᵃᵛᵃⁱˡ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵐᵉʳᵉˡʸ ᵈʳⁱᶠᵗᵉᵈ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉʳ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵉⁱᵗʰᵉʳ‧

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.

ＵＮＰＯＰＵＬＡＲ ＯＰＩＮＩＯＮ 1: 𝘐𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 “𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭” 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘴3𝘹𝘶𝘢1 𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭.

Like this is you have a bf/gf/crush <3 February 12th, 2014, 2:44 AM

🧼 Clean Vibes 🧼 🚿 - shiny chrome appliances 🛁 - a hot bath in a cool room 🚿 - moisturising freshly exfoliated skin 🛁 - dish soap bubbles 🚿 - double shampooing 🛁 - the smell of glass cleaner 🚿 - foaming soap dispensers 🛁 - clicking ice cubes in a cold glass of water 🚿 - lavender, lemon, and eucalyptus 🛁 - clean, dry hair 🚿 - freshly laundered sheets 🛁 - shampoo bars 🚿 - a clean, empty kitchen sink 🛁 - opening a new bar of soap

𝑢𝑛𝑢𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑣𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝜗𝜚 ✦ don't share your face towel and change it regularly ✦ take your time when cleansing your face. massage the cleanser for at least 60 seconds, so that the ingredients in the product have the time to work. that's how i finally achieved glass skin! i learned this from a korean youtuber. ✦ keep your phone clean, and change your sheets and pillow cases regularly ✦ if you struggle with hormonal acne, supplementing with shatavari will change your life. there aren't any documented side effects, or interactions with any illnesses or medications (advice from a certified ayurvedic practitioner... me!) ✦ use a washcloth in the shower. your skin will be soft and squeaky clean. just make sure you're washing it regularly, i wash mine with tea tree soap ✦ wash your make up brushes (i also use tea tree soap for this) and keep your skincare and makeup bottles clean, otherwise you'll end up rubbing dead skin cells, bacteria and dust all over your face! ✦ sleep! everyone always talks about how you need to drink water to achieve perfect skin, but i never see anyone mentioning sleep. i look crusty, grey and oily when i don't get enough sleep! ✦ never buy a skincare product without reading the ingredient list. unfortunately, a lot of hyped, extremely expensive products have harmful ingredients in their composition, like alcohol denat or sodium lauryl sulfate. i recommend checking paula's choice skincare dictionary if you want to know more about a certain ingredient. ✦ use your ring finger for delicate areas, like the skin around your eyes, and gently tap instead of rubbing the product 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟: 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑢𝑙𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑎 𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑦! ♡

𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑏𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡 ౨ৎ