Neo-Nazism Emojis & Text

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

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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
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
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The Portraits (a.k.a. The Cabin in the Woods) Famous Creepypasta, Locations and Sites, Nature and the Outdoors / April 20, 2009 / 1 minute of reading There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage... April 20, 2009 / Famous Creepypasta, Locations and Sites, Nature and the Outdoors / anonymously authored, cabins, camping, creepypasta classics, forests, hunters, mysteries, sites, twist endings, woods / 1 minute of reading Estimated reading time — < 1 minute There was a hunter in the woods, who, after a long day hunting, was in the middle of an immense forest. It was getting dark, and having lost his bearings, he decided to head in one direction until he was clear of the increasingly oppressive foliage. After what seemed like hours, he came across a cabin in a small clearing. Realizing how dark it had grown, he decided to see if he could stay there for the night. He approached and found the door ajar. Nobody was inside. The hunter flopped down on the single bed, deciding to explain himself to the owner in the morning. As he looked around, he was surprised to see the walls adorned by many portraits, all painted in incredible detail. Without exception, they appeared to be staring down at him, their features twisted into looks of hatred. Staring back, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Making a concerted effort to ignore the many hateful faces, he turned to face the wall, and exhausted, he fell in to a restless sleep. Face down in an unfamiliar bed, he turned blinking in unexpected sunlight. Looking up, he discovered that the cabin had not portraits, only windows.
r/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.
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
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ᴱᵘˢᵗᵃᶜᵉ ᔆᵃᵐᵘᵉˡ ᴬˢᑫᵘⁱᵗʰ ᴮᴵᴿᵀᴴ ¹⁸⁸⁷ ᴰᴱᴬᵀᴴ ⁴ ᴬᵖʳ ¹⁸⁸⁹ ⁽ᵃᵍᵉᵈ ¹–²⁾ ᴮᵁᴿᴵᴬᴸ ᴸᵉᵉᵈˢ ᴳᵉⁿᵉʳᵃˡ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᴸᵉᵉᵈˢ⸴ ᴹᵉᵗʳᵒᵖᵒˡⁱᵗᵃⁿ ᴮᵒʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵒᶠ ᴸᵉᵉᵈˢ⸴ ᵂᵉˢᵗ ʸᵒʳᵏˢʰⁱʳᵉ⸴ ᴱⁿᵍˡᵃⁿᵈ ᴾᴸᴼᵀ ²⁰³⁶ ᴳʳᵃᵛᵉˢⁱᵗᵉ ᴰᵉᵗᵃⁱˡˢ ᴬᵍᵉ⠘ ² ʸᵉᵃʳˢ⸴ ᴮⁱʳᵗʰ ᴾˡᵃᶜᵉ⠘ ᴿⁱᶜᶜᵃˡˡ⸴ ᴬᵇᵒᵈᵉ ᴾˡᵃᶜᵉ⠘ ⁴ ᴼᵃᵗᵉˢ ᔆᑫᵘᵃʳᵉ⸴ ᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᴼᶠ ᴰᵉᵃᵗʰ⠘ ᶜᵒⁿᵛᵘˡˢⁱᵒⁿˢ⸴ ᵀʳᵃᵈᵉ⠘ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ⸴ ᴳᵉⁿᵈᵉʳ⠘ ᴹ⸴ ᴿᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ⠘ ᴶᵒʰⁿ ᴴᵉʳᵇᵉʳᵗ ᴬᔆᑫᵁᴵᵀᴴ & ᶠʳᵃⁿᶜᵉˢ ᴬᔆᑫᵁᴵᵀᴴ⸴ ᴿᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ¹ ᵀʳᵃᵈᵉ⠘ ᴮᵘᵗᶜʰᵉʳ⸴ ⁸ ᴬᵖʳ ¹⁸⁸⁹ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵈᵃᵗᵉ
ᴵᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃ ᵀᵒᵐᵇˢᵗᵒⁿᵉ ᵀᵒᵘʳⁱˢᵗ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃʷᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʳⁱᶜʰ ʳᵉᵖᵒˢⁱᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ⸴ ᵃʳᵗ⸴ ᵃʳᶜʰⁱᵗᵉᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᵀʳᵃⁱˡ ⁱˢ ᵃ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉ ʷᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵃˣ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉʸᵃʳᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᶜʰᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒʳᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵈᵐⁱʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒⁿᵘᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ‧ ᴾʳᵉˢⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗ ᴶᵒʰⁿ ᶠ‧ ᴷᵉⁿⁿᵉᵈʸ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ “ᴬ ⁿᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡˢ ⁱᵗˢᵉˡᶠ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ᵖʳᵒᵈᵘᶜᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ʰᵒⁿᵒʳˢ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳˢ‧” ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃʳᵗ⸴ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ⸴ ᵍᵉⁿᵉᵃˡᵒᵍʸ⸴ ᶜˡᵃˢˢ⸴ ʳᵉˡⁱᵍⁱᵒⁿ ᵃˡˡ ʳᵒˡˡᵉᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵒⁿᵉ‧ ᴺᵒʷ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ‘ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗ’ ᵃ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᵒⁿ ˡⁱⁿᵉ‧ ᵂʰⁱˡᵉ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ᵃˢ ˢᵗʳᵒˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵃ ʷⁱⁿᵈʸ ᵃᵘᵗᵘᵐⁿᵃˡ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ⸴ ˢᵉᵃʳᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᶜᵉˢᵗᵒʳ’ˢ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ⁱᵗ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵉⁿˢᵉ ⁱᶠ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵒʳ ᶠⁱⁿᵃⁿᶜᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵖ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˡᵒᶜᵃᵗᵉ ᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᶜᵉˢᵗᵒʳ’ˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡ ʳᵉˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳⁿᵉᵗ⸴ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᵖʰᵒᵗᵒ⸴ ᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵗᵉˢ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵈᵃᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ‧ᶜᵒᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵐᵉⁿᵗ‧ᶜᵒᵐ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᵒᶠᶠᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵒⁿᵉ; ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ⸴ ᵃʳᶜʰⁱᵗᵉᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ⸴ ᵃʳᵗ⸴ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒᵘʳˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ⸴ ᵃˡˡ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ˢᵉʳᵉⁿᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ˢᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴰᵃⁿ ᵂⁱˡˢᵒⁿ⠘ ᴵ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᶜᵒˡˡᵉᶜᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡⁱᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵃʳᵉ ᵇᵘʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ‧ ᴬ ˡᵒᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˡⁱᵛᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵒ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵏⁱⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᶠᵃˢᶜⁱⁿᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴺᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵈᵒ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵘʳⁱᵃˡ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘˢᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ⸴ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ˡⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉˢ⸴ ʷᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵏⁱⁿᵈˢ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ᶜᵒᵒˡ ˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵃᵗ’ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵘᶠᶠ ᴵ ˡⁱᵏᵉ‧ ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ʰᵃᵗᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ⁱⁿᶠᵒʳᵐᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵈⁱᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ‧ ᴵ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵃˢᶜⁱⁿᵃᵗᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵃᵐᵉˢ ᴬˡᵒʸˢⁱᵘˢ⸴ ᴱᵈʷⁱⁿᵃ⸴ ⱽⁱᶜᵗᵒʳⁱᵃ⸴ ᴺᵃᵗʰᵃⁿⁱᵃˡ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵃˡˡ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᶜʰᵃʳᵐⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵉᵗ ᵒˡᵈ ᶠᵃˢʰⁱᵒⁿᵉᵈ‧ ᴬˢ ᴵ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵍᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʷʰᵒˢᵉ ⁿᵃᵐᵉˢ‧ ᴴᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵐᵃʳʳⁱᵉᵈ? ᴰⁱᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ? ᴴᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ? ᴴᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵃᵈ ᵃ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ˡⁱᶠᵉ? ᴬⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵖⁱᵗᵃᵖʰˢ⠘ ᴰᵉᵃʳ ᴮʳᵒᵗʰᵉʳ⸴ ᴿᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳᵉᵈ ᴬᵘⁿᵗ⸴ ᴮᵉˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵂⁱᶠᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴼᵘʳ ᴮᵃᵇʸ – ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ‧ ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱᶻᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵃᵗ⸴ ʸᵉˢ⸴ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ‧ ᔆᵒ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵗˢ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵃʸ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ⁵⁰ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ’ˢ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ⸴ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ᵏⁱⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒᵒˡ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵃ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ⸴ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ ʷʰᵒ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ‧ ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʷᵉ ᵒʷᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳʸ‧ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᵃᵖᵖˡⁱᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃⁿᶜᵉˢᵗᵒʳˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᴵⁿᵗᵉʳⁿᵉᵗ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵈᵉᵗᵉᶜᵗⁱᵛᵉ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵖᵒˢˢⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵉᵃˢⁱᵉʳ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ʸᵒᵘ’ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉᵈ ʷʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ‧
Nobody wants to go near me anymore. r/shortscarystories Nobody wants to go near me anymore. People used to like me, they'd sit next to me on a park bench, they'd smile when they saw me, they were completely comfortable bringing their girlfriends and kids around me. Not anymore. Not since that awful murd*r. Now they cross the street to avoid me, and if they do look at me, it's only with a look of disgust. I wish I could tell them all how sorry I was. Sure, nobody blames me. It's not my fault. They know it wasn't my fault. But now, they can't stand to even glance my way. I'm so lonely. God, what I wouldn't give to have someone sit down for lunch with me. I took the little things like that for granted for so long. I had to watch him dıe. They hung him, and left before he was even deἀd. I was the one that saw the lífe leave his eyes, saw the paın and desperation on his face, and I couldn't do a thing to help him. Those terrified eyes will haunt me for the rest of my lífe. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and save him, point the police to the hangers, and see those awful men put in jail for the rest of their lives. But I couldn't. I'll never be able to. I can't control where my branches bend, and my leaves can only rustle and whisper in the wind.
‘Crying isn’t going to help’ by HonestRage I'm a murder the one who killed my wife. He's just blubbering, perhaps a way of pleading, for his life... Perhaps if he spoke to me to reason, it might've ended differently. Perhaps I might've spared instead of murder if he only could talk out of it. But that was obviously not going to happen. After all, he was only just born moments ago.
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.”
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.
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.
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.
ᶜᵒⁿᵈⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᴾʳⁱⁿᶜⁱᵖˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴰᵒᵘᵇˡᵉ ᴱᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗ ᵀʰᵉ ᵖʳⁱⁿᶜⁱᵖˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵒᵘᵇˡᵉ ᵉᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁱᵗ ⁱˢ ᵐᵒʳᵃˡˡʸ ᵖᵉʳᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵒʳᵐ ᵃⁿ ᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵖʳᵒᵈᵘᶜᵉ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵉᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗˢ ᵃˢ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵒⁿᵈⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵐᵉᵗ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵉˣᵃᵐᵖˡᵉ ˢʰᵒʷⁿ ᵇᵉˡᵒʷ ⁱˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵉᵃᵗᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃⁿ ᵉᶜᵗᵒᵖⁱᶜ ᵖʳᵉᵍⁿᵃⁿᶜʸ⸴ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵉᵇᵒʳⁿ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ ⁱˢ ᵈᵉᵛᵉˡᵒᵖⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵛⁱᵈᵘᶜᵗ‧ ᴵᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ ᶜᵒⁿᵗⁱⁿᵘᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍʳᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵗᵘᵇᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵘᵖᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉˡʸ ᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ‧ ᴬˢˢᵘᵐⁱⁿᵍ ʳᵉ ⁱᵐᵖˡᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵖᵒˢˢⁱᵇˡᵉ⸴ ˡᵃᵖᵃʳᵒʰʸˢᵗᵉʳᵒˢᵃˡᵖⁱⁿᵍᵒᵒᵒᵖʰᵒʳᵉᶜᵗᵒᵐʸ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ‧ ᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿ ˡᵃʷ ʳᵉᑫᵘⁱʳᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉˢⁱʳᵉᵈ ᵉᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵃᶜᶜᵒᵐᵖˡⁱˢʰᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃ ʷᵃʸ ᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᵃˢˢᵘʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘʳᵛⁱᵛᵃˡ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵘˢ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵐᵉᵗʰᵒᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵉʳᵐⁱⁿᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵖʳᵉᵍⁿᵃⁿᶜʸ ⁱˢ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁿ ᵃˢ “ᵇⁱʳᵗʰ⸴” ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵒᶜᶜᵘʳʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁿⁱⁿᵉ ᵐᵒⁿᵗʰˢ’ ᵍᵉˢᵗᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧
🇺🇸 https://s1.sos.mo.gov/records/archives/archivesdb/BirthDeath/Default.aspx#searchDB 🇺🇸
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..
r/shortscarystories 23 hr. ago captain-howdy2323 Unknown Stranger Oh my! I can hear him moving around down stairs. Can I remember if I heard him come inside? Idk. I must have because I've armed myself. I cower away in this closet. But I can't remember any of that. I must be in shock. Oh my heart is racing. I hear him coming up the stairs. It won't be long until he finds me. I can already see what everyone will be saying. "Man found in house", "The bloodbath". He's right outside the room. I'm breathing so heavily. I'm sure he can hear me. Please, stop shaking. Please, nerves calm down. He's opening the door. This is it. Finally. I've been waiting in his closet for hours.
r/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..
ᴹⁱˢˢ ᔆʰᵃⁿᵉ ᴮᴵᴿᵀᴴ ¹⁸⁷⁸ ᴰᴱᴬᵀᴴ ᴹᵃʸ ¹⁸⁹⁶ ⁽ᵃᵍᵉᵈ ¹⁷–¹⁸⁾ ᴴᵉᵃʳᵗ ᴰⁱˢᵉᵃˢᵉ ᴮᵁᴿᴵᴬᴸ ᴱᵃˢᵗᵉʳⁿ ᶜᵉᵐᵉᵗᵉʳʸ ᴶᵉᶠᶠᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵛⁱˡˡᵉ⸴ ᶜˡᵃʳᵏ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗʸ⸴ ᴵⁿᵈⁱᵃⁿᵃ⸴ ᵁᔆᴬ
⣿⣟⡿⣟⣿⣻⢿⣻⣟⡿⣟⣿⣻⢿⣻⣟⡿⣟⣿⣻⢿⣻⣟⡿⣟⣿⣻⢿⣻⣟⡿⣟⣿⣻⢿⣻⣟⡿⣟⣿⣻⢿⣻⣟⡿⣟⣿⣻⢿⣻⣟⡿⣟⣿⣻⢿⣻⣟⡿⣟⣿⣻⢿⣻⢿ ⣿⣞⡿⣯⣷⢿⣻⣽⡾⣟⣯⣷⢿⣻⣽⡾⣟⣯⣷⢿⣻⣽⡾⣟⣯⣷⢿⣻⣽⡾⣟⣯⣷⢿⣻⣽⡾⣟⣯⣷⢿⣻⣽⡾⣟⣯⣷⢿⣻⣽⡾⣟⣯⣷⢿⣻⣽⡾⣟⣯⣷⢿⣻⣯⢿ ⣿⣞⣿⣽⢾⣟⣯⡷⣿⣻⣽⢾⣟⣯⡷⣿⣻⣽⢾⣟⣯⡷⣿⣻⣽⢾⣟⠯⠗⠛⠋⠉⡈⠉⠋⠓⠻⠿⣽⣾⣻⢯⣷⣟⡿⣽⣾⣻⢯⣷⣟⡿⣽⣾⣻⢯⣷⣟⡿⣽⣾⣻⢷⣻⣿ ⣿⣞⡿⣞⣯⡿⣞⣿⣳⡿⣽⣻⡾⣯⣟⣷⢿⣽⣻⡾⣯⣟⣷⡿⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣶⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣳⣯⢿⣻⣾⡽⣟⣷⣯⢿⣻⣾⡽⣟⣷⣯⢿⣻⣾⡽⣟⡿⣾ ⣿⣞⣿⣻⣽⣻⢯⣷⢿⣽⣟⡷⣿⣽⣻⢾⣯⣟⡷⣿⣽⡻⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢯⣿⣻⢾⣽⣟⡷⣯⣿⣻⢾⣽⣟⡷⣯⣿⣻⢾⣽⢿⣽⢿ ⣿⣽⣻⣯⢿⣻⣾⣻⢾⣽⣻⢷⣯⣟⡿⣾⣽⣻⢷⣯⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣟⣾⢯⣟⣷⢿⣽⣻⡾⣯⣟⣷⢿⣽⣻⡾⣟⣾⣽⣾ ⣿⣞⣷⣟⡿⣽⣾⣻⢯⣿⡽⣟⣾⣽⣻⢷⣯⣟⣿⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣯⣿⣻⢾⣯⣟⡷⣿⣽⣻⢾⣯⣟⡷⣿⢯⣷⣟⣾ ⣿⣞⡿⣞⣿⣻⢾⣽⣟⡷⣿⣻⣽⢾⣻⣟⣾⣽⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⢀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣾⣻⣟⣾⣽⣻⢷⣯⣟⡿⣾⣽⣻⣽⣟⡷⣯⣿ ⣿⣞⡿⣯⣷⢿⣯⣷⣻⣟⡷⣿⣽⣻⣽⣾⣻⣾⠀⠀⠀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠈⠹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠘⣯⣷⢿⣽⢾⣻⣟⣾⣽⣻⢷⣯⣟⣾⣽⣻⣽⣾ ⣿⣞⣿⣽⢾⣟⡾⣷⣻⡾⣟⣷⣯⣟⣾⢷⣯⡇⢀⣤⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠈⠹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠈⠹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⣿⣽⣻⡾⣟⡿⣞⡿⣞⣯⣿⣞⣯⡷⣿⣽⣳⣿ ⣿⢾⣽⡾⣿⣽⣻⣽⢷⣟⣯⣷⣟⣾⢯⣿⣞⣧⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣿⡿⠋⠀⣾⢷⣻⣽⢿⣽⢿⣽⢿⣽⡾⣽⣳⣿⣳⣯⣷⢿ ⣿⢯⣷⢿⣳⣯⢿⣾⣻⣽⣻⢾⣽⡾⣟⣷⢯⣿⡀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⢠⣿⣻⢯⣟⡿⣾⢯⣟⡿⣾⣽⢿⣽⣞⣯⣷⢯⣿ ⣿⢯⣟⣯⡿⣽⣻⣾⣽⣳⡿⣯⣷⢿⣻⡾⣿⡽⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡿⣽⣻⢯⣟⣯⡿⣯⢿⣳⣯⣿⣞⣯⣷⣟⣯⣿ ⣿⢯⣿⣽⣻⣽⢷⣻⣾⣽⣻⢷⣯⡿⣯⣟⣷⢿⣻⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣻⣽⢯⣿⢯⡿⣽⣻⢿⣽⣳⣟⣾⣻⢾⣽⣳⣿ ⣿⣻⢾⣳⡿⣽⣻⣟⣾⣳⣿⣻⣾⡽⣷⣻⣽⢿⣽⣳⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣟⣷⢯⣟⣯⣟⣯⣿⣻⣽⣯⡷⣿⣽⣳⡿⣯⣟⣷⣻ ⣿⣻⡾⣟⣷⢿⣯⣟⣯⣿⡽⣯⣟⣷⣻⢿⣽⣞⡿⣯⣟⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣻⣽⡾⣟⣿⡽⣿⣽⣻⣽⢯⣷⢿⣽⣻⢷⣯⢿⣻⢿ ⣿⣳⡿⣯⣟⡿⣾⣽⣳⣯⢿⣽⡾⣯⣟⡿⣾⣽⣻⣽⡾⣯⣟⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣿⣻⣽⡾⣽⣳⣿⣻⣞⣿⣳⣯⢿⣾⣻⡽⣟⣾⣟⡿⣾⣟⣯⣿ ⣿⣳⣿⣽⢾⣟⣷⣯⣟⣾⣟⡷⣿⣽⢾⡿⣽⡾⣯⣷⢿⣽⡾⣷⢯⣟⡿⣷⣶⣦⣤⣤⣥⣤⣤⣴⣶⣿⣻⢯⣷⢯⣟⣾⣽⢿⣽⢾⣷⣻⢷⣻⣽⣟⣾⡽⣟⣯⣷⢿⣽⡷⣯⣟⣾ ⣿⣳⣟⣾⢿⣽⣾⣳⣯⡷⣟⣿⣳⣯⣿⣻⣽⣻⢷⣯⡿⣞⣿⣽⣻⢯⡿⣷⣻⣾⣽⣳⣯⢿⣽⣾⣳⣯⣟⡿⣽⣻⢯⣟⣾⣯⣟⡿⣞⣯⡿⣯⣷⣻⣽⣻⢯⣟⣾⣟⣾⣽⢯⣿⢾ ⣿⣽⢾⣯⢿⣞⣷⣯⡷⣿⣻⢷⣻⢷⣯⡷⣿⡽⣟⣾⣽⣟⡷⣯⣟⡿⣽⡷⣟⣷⢯⣟⣾⣟⡷⣯⣷⣟⣾⣟⡿⣽⣟⣯⡷⣟⣾⣟⡿⣽⣻⢷⣯⣟⡷⣿⣻⢯⣷⣻⣽⡾⣿⣽⣻

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⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀ ⣼⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣻⣿⣟⡿⠿⢯⡿⠿⢿⣽⣿⣿⣻⣿⢿⣻⣿⣿⢿⣿⣧ ⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⢀⣴⣷⣀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⡀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣽⣿⡿⣟⣿ ⣿⣿⡿⣷⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⣠⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⡀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣅⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠘⣿⣷⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣽⡟⠀⢠⣧⡀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⡿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⢹⣿⣿⣻ ⣿⣿⣿⡇⠰⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⡗⢸⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣾⣧⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣦⣾⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠈⠻⠃⠀⣸⣿⣿⣽ ⣿⣿⡿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⢙⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠿⠋⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⡟⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣟⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣀⠀⠀⠈⠻⡟⠋⠀⠀⣀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿ ⢻⣿⣿⢿⣻⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣷⣿⣿⣟⡏ ⠀⠙⠿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣷⣿⢿⣿⢿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣟⣯⣷⣿⣿⣿⣻⠯⠋⠀

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⠀⠀⠃⠃⠇⠃⠇⠂⠀⠀⠈⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡿⣿⣻⡿⣟⣿⢿⣻⡿⣟⣿⡿⣿⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣤⣠⢤⣄⣤⣀⣠⢄⣀⣠⡤⣠⣤⢤⣤⣤⣤⡤⣤⡤⣤⢤⡤⠤⣾⣿⣽⣷⣿⣽⣿⣽⣿⣽⣿⣻⣽⣿⣽⣿⣧⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⢤⣤⣄⡤⣤⣤⣤⡤⣄⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⢤⣤⣤⢤ ⡴⣦⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣶⣶⣶⣴⣶⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣵⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣶⣾⣷⣾⣶⣴⣾⣶⣴⣦⣶⣶⣦⣾⣶⣷⣾ ⠀⠉⠈⠉⠁⠉⠈⠉⠁⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠈⠈⠉⠀⠁⠀⠁ ⡀⣀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠉⡀⠁⠈⢁⡉⣁⢉⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣋⣉⢈⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⣁⠀⡈⠀⣀⠀⡀⢀⠀⡀⢀⣀⣀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⢀⣤⣿⡍⢹⠈⡈⠙⢋⢉⠁⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣉⢘⣉⢈⡁⢘⠉⣿⣧⠉⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⢸⣿⡁⠈⠀⠀⠈⠑⠀⠂⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⢀⣤⡀⠀⠉⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠨⠼⠀⠀⠘⠒⣿⡇⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⡁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⢀⣴⡿⠋⢀⣦⡀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢠⣵⡀⠙⢿⣶⡿⠛⢿⣦⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠙⢿⣶⡿⠛⢿⣦⡀⠁⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡃⠀⠠⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠐⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠉⢀⣴⡿⠋⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡅⠀⠀⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢀⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⠈⠛⠁⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡅⠀⢀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⢨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣿⡿⣿⡇⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢛⠻⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢛⢹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⣻⢭⣿⣿⣻⣽⣿⣿⣻ ⢿⣻⣿⣽⢯⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣯⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣳⣾⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣯⡇⠀⠀⣽⣊⣿⣿⡽⣿⣽⣿⣯ ⢟⣿⡿⢯⢟⣿⠿⣿⡇⠀⢈⣿⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠓⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⢇⠀⠀⣭⣝⣿⣷⢻⡽⣾⠿⠹ ⠩⡏⡟⣯⡭⣿⠈⠛⡆⠀⠘⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠉⠈⢻⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠈⡙⠄⡓⡶⡇⣷⢾⡾⠀ ⠐⠋⠛⠛⠛⠛⢀⡘⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⢝⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⡀⠔⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠠⠋⠋⠃⠋⠉⠃⠀ ⠤⢾⠲⠖⢶⠦⠴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠒⠟⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⢠⡰⢆⠀⡔⣡⠊⠀⠀⢀⡀⢀⠀⠀⠀⡌⡔⢠⠀⠳⢖⠓⠒⠞⠒⠒⠲ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢌⢢⢁⡒⢌⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⣌⣳⣟⣣⡘⡴⢣⣃⢦⣼⣷⣿⣿⣾⣴⢦⡽⡜⢦⡍⡤⠘⠿⠿⠿⡿⠿⠟ ⠀⠀⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⣄⠣⡝⣮⢳⡌⡔⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣚⠿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⢀⢳⣼⣷⣿⣷⣿⣾⡽⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⣻⣿⣿⣵⢣⢤⠠⠤⡆⠀⠤ ⣴⣦⣴⣶⣤⣦⣤⠀⡖⣌⢣⡙⡔⢣⠞⣰⢡⠒⡤⠀⢀⣤⣼⣿⣯⣿⣽⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣶⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣷⣴⣾ ⡿⣿⢿⣿⢿⡿⣿⡳⠈⠌⠣⡜⣌⢣⢎⡱⢎⡳⣌⠳⣼⣿⡟⡿⢿⡿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿

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⣿⠋⢛⡛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⣭⣭⠽⠿⠿⠿⣿⣭⡉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉ ⣿⠀⢿⠿⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⢾⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠖ ⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣜⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣌⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠙⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀ ⣇⠀⢹⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠓⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠓⠉⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠉⠚⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠚⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⢹⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡼⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣛⣤⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣝⢿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣥⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢫⣤⣛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀ ⡟⠀⢸⠰⢶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⡴⣶⣶⣿⣿⢿⣻⣤⡌⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⢀⣴⣾⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢡⣤⣟⡿⣿⣿⣶⣷⢢⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⡶⠂⠀⠀⠀ ⡧⠀⢸⠀⠀⢈⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣥⢠⣽⣶⣾⣿⢟⣯⣶⡇⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢲⣶⣝⡿⣿⣷⣾⣯⣄⣬⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠷⢩⣭⣽⣾⣿⠟⣩⣾⣿⣬⡍⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢩⣄⢿⣷⣝⠻⣿⣷⣯⣭⠉⠾⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡝⣫⣭⣶⣿⢟⣥⣾⡿⣳⣾⡎⣛⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢇⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣛⢱⣷⣜⢿⣷⣝⡻⣿⣶⣭⡟⢫⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⡛⣫⣶⣿⡿⢫⣾⣿⣿⣾⣿⢠⣶⡟⣛⣻⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣟⣛⢱⣶⡄⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⡻⣿⣿⣦⣝⢛⣧⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡗⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⡿⠜⠛⣫⣶⣿⣿⣫⣿⣿⢣⣿⣿⣻⣿⣇⣦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣴⢸⣿⣟⣿⣿⡜⣿⣷⣽⣿⣿⣮⣟⠛⠣⢿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡧⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⢋⣿⣿⡿⣣⣿⣿⢣⣿⣿⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⡏⣿⣿⡽⣿⣿⣜⢿⣿⣿⡛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⢾⣿⠿⣣⣿⣿⢯⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣹⣿⣿⣜⠿⣿⡧⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⠟⢫⣿⣿⡟⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣾⢹⣿⣿⣿⡇⢻⣿⣿⡝⠻⠟⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡏⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⡿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡗⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠸⣿⣿⣿⡿⢸⣹⡏⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡧⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣾⢿⣿⣟⡛⣿⣏⣛⡛⣛⣿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⢠⣍⠾⠾⣿⣼⣷⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣬⣷⣤⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⡿⣸⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣽⢸⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣣⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡟⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⢿⣿⡿⣫⡾⡿⠿⠎⠛⠛⢈⣽⣯⡈⠛⠛⢿⣿⣿⢿⣯⡻⠿⠏⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡧⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⣡⣬⡉⣾⣿⡎⠛⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠿⣟⡃⣾⣿⣿⢿⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⣿⣷⣿⣿⣃⡶⠂⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⣠⣤⡀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣟⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣽⣮⣿⢻⡟⣿⠁⠀⠀⠐⢿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠈⠭⢻⡟⣿⣴⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡝⣿⡇⣿⡿⠆⢀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠘⢿⣷⢹⣿⠷⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡟⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⢿⡿⠰⢿⢎⡰⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠈⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣷⠄⡺⠿⣈⠿⢟⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡧⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⢸⣿⡆⠞⡁⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠙⠛⠁⢠⣭⣾⣿⠇⠾⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣭⣤⣿⣿⡿⣡⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠈⣻⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⢀⡛⢻⣿⣿⣶⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣭⡻⣿⢳⣴⣶⡀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠋⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⣀⠮⣻⢟⣿⣥⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡏⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠿⠿⣷⡻⣷⠥⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⣤⠹⠿⢋⡞⢭⣽⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡗⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢣⡼⠇⣾⣷⣬⣾⣧⣦⢠⡀⢈⣻⣟⡁⠀⣠⠰⢸⡇⢁⣾⣷⠘⠿⠶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡧⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢶⣯⢛⣿⣿⣿⠶⢿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣇⢰⣿⠷⢟⣻⣿⠛⣫⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣇⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠟⣯⢍⣿⣷⡆⣸⣿⢻⢻⠠⣶⣿⢛⡛⠻⠗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡧⢀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠟⠻⠿⠾⠾⠘⠋⠉⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣀⣥⠶⢶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡑⠒⠀⢠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⢣⠟⣿⠈⠿⠦⠬⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⢡⣾⣀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣷⣾⣷⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠿⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣧⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⡿⠧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⢠⠤⢀⣤⣴⣶⣶⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿ ⡷⡿⠂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠐⣩⡽⢿⡿⢻⣿⣿⡉⠘⣿⠿⢟⠙⢿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⡑⠠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠐⠒⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⢻⣧⡉⢵⣲⣾⠟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⡄⠙⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⢀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⣪⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣷⡀⠁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⡄⢀⡡⢷⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⣴⣶⣤⣶⣿⣿⡇⣡⠒⢩⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡘⠧⣸⣿⣿⠻⣿⡿⠿⠿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡿⢿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡱⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣆⠉⠁⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠁⣀⣴⣿⣻⣽⡻⣜⣯⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⡀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠑⢌⠢⣀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⢠⢼⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⠱⣄ ⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢊⢑⠪⣑⣲⣤⣤⣴⣮⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⡿⡟⣿⡴

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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.
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.
The End “The End is nigh” “Agency Officials: Spend this time with your loved ones” “Citizens prepare for the Inevitable” The newspapers were all the same. His mother whisked him away from the news stand and into her arms, but not before he read the last headline. “The Invasion: What could We have done?” “Mommy, what’s happening?” he whispered. She pressed his warm, chubby hand to her wet cheek and let out a quiet sob. “The humans. They found us.”
1 day ago u/Sticky_Cheetos He handed me a box and said, “If you press this button, you get $100,000, but it takes one year off of your lįfe.” I pressed it once, and everything went dark̵.
https://www.ewtn.com/catholicism/library/exception-to-save-the-life-of-the-mother-12052
My Sister's Sculpture My Mother told me about it when I was around 6 years old. She told me I wasn't an only child, I was one of two little girls. You see, she told me that when I was first born along with my twin sister, she died the evening she was born. She never told me why or how she died.or when they had the funeral for her. She told me about my Father going into a deep sense of mourning, and so to let us never forget my little sister my Father made a sculpture ofher. She was painted to every last detail. Her cute blue eyes to the little dimples in her cheeks. My Father would copy me as a reference since we were twins, and as I grew up I thought the sculpture was of me, but now that my Mother cleared this all up I felt more close to the sculpture than I did before. It wasn't long until I noticed that every year; on my birthday my Father would replace the sculpture and now the sculpture looked the same age as me, as if the sculpture would follow me as l aged. My Father continued to do this well into my teenage years, capturing her older and more mature features and the change in her face. On my 18th birthday I realised I could not sleep. I was wondering how my Father made the sculpture so detailed to me so late into the night. Perhaps he took a photo of me and paints it in every detail? I was curious. So I desided to creep my way downstairs to see if could catch my Father making the sculpture, and as l peeked my head around the kitchen door I felt all the colour of my face drain. There, on the Kitchen table my Father was injecting the “sculpture” with a liquid as he whispered "You will always be my little sculpture." as I watched the “sculpture's” hands twitch.
When one of my friends was born, the doctors told her parents she wouldn't live past a week. Then, they said that she would live, but she wouldn't be able to walk. Yesterday, at 17, we were walking through the mall together. She helped somebody in a wheelchair, saying "That could be me" She GMH Mar 22, 2011 at 7:00am by Emma G, Dallas
r/TwoSentenceHorror 26 days ago Prestigious_Salad_85 I screamed in excitement as I received an email stating that my application was accepted. The rest of my family cried out in despair knowing they weren’t selected to board the last ship leaving our dying planet behind.
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.
http://www.bowerman.ca/albury/bdata.htm
r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 yr. ago mydadsnameisharold "Yes, the blood means you're a woman now." Too groggy to make sense of the pain between his legs, he managed to ask, "... what did you just do to me?"

Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 3 hr. ago IAbstainFromSociety My attempt to break into the cockpit with the fire axes failed, as the cockpit doors had been reinforced to protect against terrorism. Alone in the cockpit, there was nothing to stop my suicidal co-pilot from crashing the plane into the mountains..
Practice Makes Perfect by reddit user whiteddit "You're not even trying. Again!" My calloused hands dance across the music. A finger slips and the tune groans. "Your father would be ashamed. Again!" My blurred vision falls from the yellowed sheet music to the keys. I miss another note. "Faster. Again!" I stumble once more as the tempo increases. She rises from the bench. "Absolutely worthless. You're done for today." I hang my head in shame. I know what's coming. The floorboards creak as Mother returns from the kitchen. I wince. It's hard enough to play with three fingers. It'll be even harder with two.
r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago MintClicker Moments before the tragedy At 3, she jumped off the bed. At 7, she unbuckled her seat belt. At 12, she went to a sleepover at a friend's house. At 17, she finally received her driver's license. At 26, she said yes. At 30, she went into labor. At 39, she had one last hurrah. At 46, she signed the papers to make it final. At 55, he was diagnosed and had no one to share the news with. At 61, she celebrated her remission with a night out. At 22, she looked at herself in the mirror. At 87, surrounded by her family and friends, she smiled. There are moments before every tragedy, quick flashes of boredom or happiness, of the expected and unexpected. These moments I see. The little girl jumping off her parents bed and into an unresponsive final state. Another girl attending her first sleepover, excited and giddy, only to succumb to an unknowing fatal nut allergy. The young woman whose proposal near the shoreline was poorly thought-out, never allowing her to live to see her marriage. The older woman who finally divorced the man she came to loathe, and for that man to not take the finality of it all with dignity or peace. The man whose diagnosis was terminal. The woman whose 40th birthday ended in heartache and disaster. The girl whose last glimpse in the mirror was of herself, relieved, then raising the pistol to her temple. These moments, as innocuous as they seem, are the final looks to life before tragedy ultimately hits. And I watch them. I have to. It's my responsibility to take you all from this realm to the next. It's my duty. And I am sorry; I truly am. Because now? At this moment, they read the final sentences of a story. Some bored. Some happy. Some expecting this ending; some not. And I watch as they read these last words, fully oblivious as they are, that this, this is their moment.
‘First Words‘ by alatus_corruptrix Any day now, she’ll say her first words. My wife and I have been playfully betting on what she’ll say first – ‘Mamá’ or ‘Daddy.’ I can hear my wife crooning over and over while she feeds her ‘Mama’s little girl! Mamá loves you so much!’ Sometimes, she’s not even subtle about it – ‘Say ‘Mamá!’ Come on! ‘Mamá!” I don’t mind it though. I still believe I’ll win. When we first brought her home, she would scream and cry and nothing my wife would say could calm her down. Ours must be a daddy’s girl. I sit her in her chair and my wife and I begin babbling like chickens – ‘Mamá!’ ‘Daddy!’ ‘Say Mamá!’ ‘Who’s daddy’s baby?’ I pull the gag from our little girl’s mouth. “P-please… what do you want from me? Please, let me go…” My wife’s smile falls from her face. With a heavy heart, I put the gag back in as the girl starts to scream. I take her back and dispose of her. When I return, I find my wife crying. “It’s ok, honey,” I tell her; “the next one will be better, I promise.”
Mary had a little lamb It's fleece was white as snow, And everywhere that Mary went That lamb was sure to go. He followed her to school one day That was against the rules, It made the children laugh and play But soon they felt like fools. Mary’s corpse was in a room And oh, what a scene! The kids saw her coated in blood And regretted being mean. Soon the police arrived Stepped over Mary’s heart, And tried to ask everyone How she was ripped apart. But when nobody knew The origins of all the gore, The police decided That it was time to go hardcore. And so everyone was dragged To detectors so they can’t tell a lie But everybody refused to tell Why Mary had to die. Suspects were jailed everywhere Tom, Barb, and Sam Because not a single person knew The murderer was the lamb. June 21, 2017 hellofinah
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.
‘Crying isn’t going to help’ by HonestRage She's gone, all because of him. Dead. He killed my wife. She'd still be here, if it's not for him. If only he could speak with reason; I could’ve let him live long enough to explain. But that was obviously not going to happen. After all, he was born just a few minutes ago...
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣶⣶⣀⡀⣀⣤⣾⣿⣙⣤⣤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⣾⡾⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣛⣿⣻⣿⡟⢻⣿⡟⣶⣖⣶⣶⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣻⢇⡖⣯⢻⣿⣾⣟⣷⣿⣾⣖⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣄⠹⣿⣧⡘⢎⣷⣻⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣧⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡍⠋⡍⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢹⣤⠈⣿⣿⡌⢹⡜⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣦⡦⢶⢴⣶⡶⠖⠾⠛⠛⠻⡛⢻⣛⡛⠋⠉⣿⣿⠀⣷⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢣⣙⡘⢧⢻⣿⣧⠘⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣇⣠⣄⣈⣀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣾⣿⣷⣷⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡒⡙⣆⠢⠙⠛⣧⠻⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⢩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡜⢨⠛⣦⡀⢸⣧⡙⢿⡿⢶⣆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣻⣿⡿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡙⢚⣷⣁⣿⣥⣼⣷⡾⢿⣦⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣯⣧⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣾⣻⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣴⣤⣾⣿⣿⣯⣿⣯⣙⣛⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⡛⢏⢩⣹⣶⣾⢾⣿⣞⢻⡷ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⡿⢟⣫⠝⡱⢭⡝⣭⢫⡭⡝⣭⡹⣭⣍⡳⡹⢟⠯⣝⡭⣭⢫⡍⣭⢉⡽⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢯⡉⠙⣧⣤⡼⠶⢧⠝⢺⡏⢹⣼⣺⡏⣿⣿⢸⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⢯⡜⢯⡜⣹⠳⢦⡝⣲⢇⡳⡝⢦⣓⠶⣸⡱⢫⢽⡹⡜⣜⠶⣩⢞⡱⣿⣎⢳⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠈⡿⠛⠉⣅⡀⠀⢸⡏⢸⡅⠺⢹⢲⡧⢸⣿⢰⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⢱⣿⢹⣿⣷⡾⢷⣸⣷⠏⡷⢾⢱⣎⡷⣉⢇⣹⡎⣱⣏⠹⣆⢷⠹⣎⢹⢱⡎⢷⢿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⡷⠆⠰⡆⡷⠀⡿⢸⡰⠆⣿⣾⢹⡇⣸⣿⢸⣿ ⠀⠀⢀⣼⣷⠿⣩⠗⡜⠒⣭⡛⣟⡹⡞⣝⢮⢣⢏⡵⣋⢾⣙⡿⣡⢏⣏⣛⢮⠳⣌⡗⣫⡜⡳⢎⡝⣿⢶⡿⡟⢧⢏⡟⠀⢀⣾⠇⢠⠀⢽⡇⢸⠃⢿⡅⠺⣿⣿⡼⢠⢻⢿⣸⣿ ⠀⢀⣾⣟⣣⢛⡼⢆⡺⡱⢆⡟⡴⣛⡜⡞⣬⢳⣾⣶⣿⡾⣜⡱⢳⢎⠶⣩⠮⡝⢮⡜⡵⣚⢭⢫⡜⡶⣩⢖⡹⣣⡿⠁⢀⡏⢸⢠⠇⡆⠘⡄⣿⡌⠘⡇⣾⣿⣿⣏⠀⣿⣿⡟⢿ ⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡫⠷⢿⣷⣾⣷⣷⣷⣿⣶⣯⣽⣯⣵⣷⣮⣵⣯⣾⣷⣥⣿⣜⣧⣞⣥⣭⣘⣳⣼⣵⣣⣍⣶⡿⠁⠀⣾⠐⠠⣿⢘⡇⠀⠁⣿⢰⢋⡷⣉⣿⣿⠇⡇⣿⣿⣵⣾ ⡞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣲⢭⣙⢧⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡻⣏⡽⣩⠿⣿⣿⣷⣤⢰⡇⢘⢠⣿⠸⡅⠠⡀⡿⣸⠈⡧⠡⠞⣋⣰⣿⣿⣿⡏⠉ ⣿⣿⣟⣮⣛⡿⢿⡞⠼⣒⣭⣻⣏⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡹⢼⢣⣏⣽⣿⣇⢿⣿⡄⠀⣼⢿⠀⠛⡀⠁⠅⠁⣤⣣⣵⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀ ⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣯⣳⣾⣿⣿⣿⣻⣯⢿⡈⣿⠚⠀⠀⠀⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⠳⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⡺⣧⠙⠀⣡⣤⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡟⡿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠟⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣣⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇ ⠀⠀⠙⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢫⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢫⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⢰⣦⣤⣤⣴⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⡀⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣶⡆⢶⣶⣶⣶⣴⣶⣶⣭⡻⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡿⣫⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⡶⠀⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣶⡆⣴⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣴⡶⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢷⡹⢿⠿⢿⢿⣛⣫⣵⣶⣿⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⡻⣿⣿⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⡿⣫⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢾⣷⣮⣭⣛⣻⢿⣿⣿⠟⢼⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⠿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀ 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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣛⣛⢿⣿⣻⣯⣵⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠰⣾⢻⣿⣟⣿⣏⣛⡛⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣻⣷⣿⣷⡻⣿⣟⣸⠃⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⣿⣾⣾⢏⣾⢿⣿⣿⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⣭⣽⠻⣿⡝⢛⣛⠹⡿⣠⡄⢀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⣀⠀⣤⢸⡟⣈⣉⢩⣿⣧⣛⡿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢽⡾⠿⠃⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣿⣻⣇⣶⡄⠀⣈⣻⣋⡄⠀⣠⣿⠿⣹⣿⣈⣰⣿⣿⡇⣛⣻⡛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⣷⣯⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣷⢠⣿⣿⣿⣷⢰⣿⣿⡿⠿⣛⣿⡟⢛⣛⣵⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢸⣿⡿⣿⡛⣿⣶⣮⣍⢸⢻⡿⣿⢻⠈⣥⣶⣾⠿⠿⢿⣿⣶⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠱⣿⠿⣿⣷⢸⣸⣇⣿⣸⣤⣿⣿⣿⠜⠿⠂⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠋⠈⣉⣉⣉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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🔴🔴🔴🔴⚪⚪⚪⚫⚪⚪⚪🔴🔴🔴🔴 🔴🔴🔴⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪🔴🔴🔴 🔴🔴⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪⚪⚪🔴🔴 🔴⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪⚫⚪⚪⚪🔴 ⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪ ⚪⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪ ⚪⚫⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪ ⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫ ⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪⚫⚪ ⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚫⚫⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪⚪ ⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪ 🔴⚪⚪⚪⚫⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪🔴 🔴🔴⚪⚪⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪🔴🔴 🔴🔴🔴⚪⚪⚪⚫⚫⚫⚪⚪⚪🔴🔴🔴
⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜

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⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⢀⣤⣤⣄⣘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⠁⢰⣿⡿⠿⠿⢿⣿⡟⠉⣤⣤⠉⢿⡿⠁⣤⣤⣹⣇⠀⢠⣀⣿⣏⣠⣤⡀⠙⣿⡇⠀⢋⣤⡀⠙⣿⡿⠉⣠⣤⡈⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠸⣿⣧⣤⡄⠈⣿⠁⢈⣉⣉⣀⣸⣿⣄⡈⠙⢿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⠟⠛⣋⡃⠀⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⡃⢰⣿⣿⡧⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠙⠛⠛⠃⢀⣿⣇⠈⠻⠿⠟⣿⡟⠻⠿⠃⢸⣿⡆⠘⠟⣿⡀⠸⠿⢃⠀⣿⡇⠀⡙⠻⠃⢠⣿⣇⠀⠻⠿⠃⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣷⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣿⣿⣶⣶⣿⣶⣿⡇⠀⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

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𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒌𝒇𝒄 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆
⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️ ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️ ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️ ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️ ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️ ⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️ ⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️ ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️ ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️ ⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️⚪️

Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠖⠋⠻⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠁⢀⡤⠒⠂⠀⡠⠒⠀⠀⡖⠚⡆⠀⠀⠀⣠⡶⠋⠀⠀⠀⣠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢸⢧⣰⠁⠀⠀⡇⢸⠒⠋⡇⡞⠖⢤⡀⢀⣧⡋⠁⠀⢀⡼⠋⠀⠀⡄⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠘⠈⠃⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠉⠒⠁⠈⠧⠴⠃⠘⠀⠉⠃⢠⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠁⢠⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡏⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣶⣿⡇⠀⣾⣿⣄⡀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣟⠀⠀⣀⣈⡘⠛⠁⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⡤⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⡼⠋⢀⠀⢻⣞⡉⠈⠹⣆⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⠁⠀⠉⠳⣤⡀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⣀⣾⡷⠏⢀⣤⡄⠀⢹⠀⠀⢸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡴⠖⢲⡆ ⠸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡀⠉⠹⠳⡄⠘⠛⠉⢁⡟⠀⠀⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠞⠋⠁⠀⠀⢠⡏ ⠀⠹⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠳⠤⠤⠾⠳⣄⣀⣠⠞⣀⡀⠀⠀⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⠁ ⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠂⠀⠈⠙⢦⡄⣰⢇⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣿⡟⠒⠀⠘⡇⠀⣠⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠏⠀⠈⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⣿⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠏⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⣰⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠄⠀⣠⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠋⠀⠳⣾⣿⠟⠉⠀⠋⣁⡴⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢦⡀⢀⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣻⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠾⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠀⢻⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠈⢳⣿⡶⣤⣀⠘⠻⠿⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⣶⠿⠋⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣆⠸⣄⣨⣟⠺⢿⣲⣤⡤⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣤⣺⠯⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⣸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡌⠉⣿⠋⠀⠀⠈⢫⡉⠓⠒⣿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠓⠋⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⡙⠶⣄⣀⣀⣸⠸⢦⠾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠁⣼⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⠀⠙⠳⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠻⣤⣤⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠒⢶⠤⣤⣄⣀⣰⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡖⠒⠾⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡛⠲⠦⠤⢤⣤⠾⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⣠⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⡰⠀⠀⢀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢻⡟⠓⠒⠚⠛⠋⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣤⣤⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣄⠀⠀⠀⣴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣄⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠤⠤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣟⠳⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠒⣲⡄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⡇⡱⠲⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀1984⠀⣠⠴⠊⢹⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢻⠓⠀⠉⣥⣀⣠⠞⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡾⣄⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢠⡄⢀⡴⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⢎⡉⢦⡀⠀⠀⡸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⣣⠧⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀ ⠀⢀⡔⠁⠀⠙⠢⢭⣢⡚⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣇⠁⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀ ⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢫⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢮⠈⡦⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀ ⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⣀⡴⠃⠀⡷⡇⢀⡴⠋⠉⠉⠙⠓⠒⠃⠀⠀ ⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⡼⠀⣷⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠣⣀⠀⠀⡰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢷⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣯⡷⠺⠟⠿⡿⣷⣿⡿⢿⣿⣽⢻⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⢾⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣦⡀⠀ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢇⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣄⠀⢈⢫⣻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠈⠶⢞⡿⠀⠘⣿⡿⣶⢯⣇⠀⢹⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⠀⠀⠈⡀⠀⠀⢨⡉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠘⡹⡟⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣧⠀⢠⢞⣐⣼⣥⣖⣻⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢀⣴⣿⡿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣷⣁⠀⠀⣰⣴⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢂⠈⠁⠀⠚⠿⠃⠉⠉⠁⠀⢀⠏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣕⠢⢄⣰⣤⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠘⣿⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣦⣄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡀⠠⠤⠶⣬⣽⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣴⣂⡤⣰⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣶⣒⣤⠤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀
ϟϟ✠ꑭ☭✙𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖆 ♱🏳‍🌈⃠👨🏻+✡=🔪🩸💣👳🏾‍♂️🥛𓂺🏳️‍🌈⃠🚫🧨🏳️‍⚧️👨🙋🏻‍♂️✋🇦🇹🇩🇪𓂸🏳️‍🌈⃤ ебать♰👨🏻✋🏻🙋🏻‍♂️🇦🇹suck my🍆suck my🍆👨🏻🤚🏻Butt segs 🥵
Hitler 👨🙋🏻‍♂️✋🇦🇹🇩🇪🙋‍♂️👨🎨🇩🇪🇦🇹🙋‍♂️👨🎨🇩🇪🇦🇹
Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 2 yr. ago GuyAwks More Unsolicited Parenting Advice We’ve all run into those insufferable types before in our lives. You know the kind. Total strangers who somehow think they’ve earned the right to micro-manage how you raise your kids just seconds after meeting you. And the kicker is when they aren’t even parents themselves. What would they know? After a long afternoon of dropping items into a shopping cart, me and my preschooler had almost finished the weekly grocery haul. We were on our way to the checkout counter when a lady at a near- by promotional kiosk summoned my attention. “Hello ma’am, could I please have a moment of your time?” the apron-clad woman chirped from behind her booth. Spying the unfinished Coke Zero can Ivy was drinking, this lady scrunched up her face in disapproval. The next words out of her mouth made my blood boil. “I see that your little princess is drinking a canned soda. Ooh, that’s not so great. Have you considered trying our special, 100% natural vitamin juices? Here, try a sample.” Instantly, her hand shot out with a small plastic cup filled with liquid. Taken aback by her boldness I tried to remain somewhat polite. “Thank you, but we’re not interested,” I answered curtly. Something was so unsettling about her fake smile and shrill enthusiasm. “A girl as young as her shouldn’t be drinking soda. It’s full of sugars and unhealthy preservatives. Let me throw that away for you-” Without any hesitation, she reached down to pry the can out of my daughter’s hands. I could not believe the audacity of this woman. “Excuse me!” I snapped, finally losing my composure. “How dare you try and take my daughter’s drink!” “But miss, this is much healthier for your angel,” protested the creepy woman waving her strange-looking syrup at us. “Surely you don’t want her to be sickened by all those dangerous chemicals-” “If you don’t leave us alone, I will report you to the supervisor!” With that, we turned and began strolling away from said relentless salesperson. Only once we were in- to the parking lot did I feel myself calming down. Gosh, that lady really freaked me out. What are the odds someone would randomly try to discard my daughter’s soda on today of all days. The one day I chose to put poisson in it. That rare, traceless toxin I slipped into her soda can earlier today cost me a fortune to order from overseas. The bubbles from the carbonation mask any taste of the thing, making it the perfect delivery system for it. My oblivious daughter would've been dēαd within the hour.. Oh, how I wish people would keep their parenting advice to themselves. It’s not needed. I know how to kıll my own kid just fine, thank you very much!
⛩️⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝👒⚔🏴‍☠️🌊
⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ ⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛ ⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛

Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢛⣭⠛⠛⣿⣿⡄⠀⠉⣉⣹⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⣿⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣫⠷⢞⠉⠹⡀⠀⠀⣾⡷⡞⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠻⢧⢄⡀⠳⣄⠳⠤⣴⡿⣾⡇⠀⢸⣿⠃⢠⠿⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠤⠤⠤⢄⣉⡓⠂⠀⢸⣿⣦⣼⡿⠲⢤⣥⠴⢋⣀⣀⣈⣳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡧⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠰⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠀⠈⣉⣉⣉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠹⡆⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠉⠛⣿⡇⠈⠱⣶⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣯⣉⣛⣀⣀⠐⠲⢤⣀⡈⠉⠉⠉⠒⢻⡀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⠀⠀⢿⡄⠀⠀⠉⠛⠋⠻⠿⠟⠛⠛⠟⠛⠛⠲⠾⣷⣦⢄⡀⢸⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⢀⣼⢿⡀⠀⠈⢿⡀⣀⣤⠴⠾⠿⠿⠿⠿⠶⢦⣤⣀⡀⢀⣾⡏⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⠚⠋⠀⠀⢷⡀⠀⠘⢿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠻⣾⠏⠀⠀⢀⡞⢠⡴⠛⠛⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠈⢳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠞⠁⠀⠀⢀⡾⢱⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣦⣄⡀⠈⠳⢤⣀⣀⣀⣠⠴⠞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠖⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠼⣟⠿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣾⣿⣇⠀⠀⠘⠳⢤⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠈⠛⠲⢼⣯⣭⣝⣛⣛⣛⡻⢿⡛⠛⠻⡏⣿⢽⣦⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣸⠃⢠⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⠉⠁⠉⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⢷⣾⢾⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢻⠀⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣦⣤⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠘⡆⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡴⠋⠁⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠙⣦⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠦⣍⣛⠛⠻⠿⠟⠛⣉⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠚⠛⠉⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠙⢦⣀⠀⠀⣀⡴⣶⡟⢟⣻⣿⣿⣿⣾⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠁⣰⣿⣧⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿🇩🇪🇩🇪

Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

/̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿💥
‘A Message From Your Personal Demons’ By MrGarm “I am the worst of your demons, but you see me as a friend.” Hello, my dear. You do not know who I am, but I know you. I am one of the three demons that were assigned to you at birth. You see, some people in this world are destined for greatness, destined to live happy, fulfilling lives. You, I am afraid, are not one of those people, and it is our job to make sure of that. Who are we? Oh yes, of course, how rude of me. Allow me to introduce us: Shame is my younger brother, the demon on your left shoulder. Shame tells you that you’re a freak; that those thoughts you have are not normal; that you will never fit in. Shame whispered into your ear when your mother found you playing with yourself as a child. Shame is the one who makes you hate yourself. Fear sits on your right shoulder. He is my older brother, as old as life itself. Fear fills every dark corner with monsters, and turns every stranger on a dark street into a murderer. Fear stops you from telling your crush how you feel. He tells you it is better not to try than to let people see you fail. Fear makes you build your prison. Who am I, then? I am the worst of your demons, but you see me as a friend. You turn to me when you have nothing else because I live in your heart. I am the one who forces you to endure. The one who prolongs your torment. Sincerely, Hope.
Messages Dad Dec 26, 2012 2:14 PM Dad there's a moth on the outside of the bathroom door can you get rid of it? Pis hurry because I'm going to cry Dad Dad > Dec 26, 2012 2:30 PM < Dad is dead. You're next. Love, Moth
Adam Zad 1 year ago I tried to give blood the other day. Never again. Too many questions! Whose blood is it? Where did you get it? Why is it in a bucket?
. 9 years ago The First of Many I’m sleeping in my bed. A creaking sound comes from outside my bedroom window. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s 12:04. I always wake up at 12:04. The creaking gets louder and more intense. I roll out of bed and open my curtains to see what’s causing the noise. There in the yard is a tall, thin black figure with a pale white face. It has no nose, and just two empty sockets for eyes. It’s oblong mouth is shaking, obviously the source of the creaking noise. The thing’s cheekbones are sunken in, and it’s ribs jut out of it's shadowy skin. There’s an aura of smog surrounding it. As soon as I look into it’s lifeless sockets it releases an ear piercing shriek. I let go of the curtains and run to my door. I have to warn my parents and make sure my sister is safe. As soon as I open the door it’s in my hallway waiting. I freeze. The air turns icy. It slowly reaches one of it's long skinny arms towards me. I still can’t move. It has three long jagged fingers. Being this close, I can see that it's flesh is scarred, twisted and torn. Blacker than anything I’ve ever seen. It’s longest finger hooks under my jaw, and through my mouth. I try to scream but nothing but a wet gurgle comes out. A proud hum comes from the thing’s chest. It seems proud. It lifts me off my feet and pins me to the wall by my chin. It’s other hand slowly digs all three of it's dagger- like fingers into my neck. I’m choking now. It releases me, and I slide down the wall. It looks down at me and my vision starts to flicker. Then it turns, and with two long strides, sneaks into my parents bedroom. I try making any kind of noise to warn them, but nothing comes out. I hear muffled screaming. Then nothing. It pokes it’s head out of the door to make sure I’m still watching. Then it drags my parent’s bloodƴ corpses into the hallway. Their throats are slit. It lays them side by side in front of me. Only a foot away from my forehead. I squeeze my eyes shut and wish to dıe already. I feel claws on my eyes. It pinches my eyelids and with one fluid motion rips them both off. Everything burns. I can barely make out my parents’ faces through all the red. It leans down and presses it's cheek to theirs. The corners of it's dark mouth lift into a wicked grin. Everything goes black. I wake up in bed. It’s 12:04. There’s a creaking coming from the window.
𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉
r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago GuyAwks Take Her Swimming on the First Date Fake lips, fake eyelashes, fake brows, fake complexion, fake curves and fake hair. All that and no wonder blokes don’t trust women nowadays. I ring the doorbell and my date answers, looking just as stunning as when I’d asked her out at the pub. Anthea is a Mediterranean beauty, dark blondie hair framing her bandage dress, her olive skin radiant. But that’s just how she looks. Me and my mates know looks can be deceiving. The amount of foundation some of these stuck-up birds in our neighbourhood trowel on is atrocious. Who gave them the idea that vain cakefaces are what guys dig? Everyone always jokes about how, if you don’t want to wake up next to a 2, you need to take her swimming first. Well, I’m not joking tonight. “Where are we heading?” Anthea coyly asks from my passenger seat. “I hope I’m not overdressed.” “Hmm” I reply. “I was thinking we could take a walk by the shore, sit on the pier and...just relax.” “Sure, that sounds like a nice first date! Just...no swimming okay?” Typical princess, I think smugly as I nod. What Miss Perfect doesn’t know is that I’m actually planning a midnight dip in the sea for her. It’ll be the ultimate gag— of an ice queen melting after I’ve tossed her off the pier. “Tonight was wonderful, Alfie” Anthea swoons to me later that evening, dangling her legs over the jetty. Now it’s finally showtime. Interlocking my fingers with hers, I suddenly send the two of us lurching into the water. As I surface, I expect to see running mascara and waterlogged extensions. Indeed, my date’s form is beginning to melt away. But what I’m glimpsing is...skin shedding into scales...fingers melding into webbed claws. I can only tread water as the woman metamorphosizes into a serpentine monster before my eyes. Whatever illusion this creature had going, seawater has clearly broken it—and Anthea is not happy. “We could have had so much more fun together” she hisses, incensed. “This is premature.” With that, the sea siren viciously seizes me and drags me underneath the waves, her voice echoing on as water fills my lungs. “I only take men to sea on the last date.”
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...
Everybody loves a fat baby. By Reddit user Purple_Mittens Everybody loves a fat baby. You can't help but pinch their cheeks, tickle their tummies, and grab a toe to play "this little piggy". They give the most contagious jolly smiles that brighten anyone's day. My baby is skinny. I've tried to fatten him up but he fights me every step of the way, refusing to drink his new formula and seemingly metabolizing things faster than I can microwave a bottle. Nobody wants to pinch my skinny baby and play peekaboo. People walk right by and act like he doesn't exist. Sometimes I feel like he doesn't gain weight on purpose, just to rob me of my gleaming years of motherhood. I know that's crazy, and then I feel guilty and cry because all I want is for my baby to be healthy. My husband says I have post-partum depression. But he's even worse. He locks himself in the bedroom and never comes anywhere with me and the baby. He looks at me differently, and I worry that he no longer finds my body attractive. Yesterday at the grocery store, someone called the police because they think I'm starving my baby. I keep telling the investigators that I'm doing everything I can to fatten him up but they won't listen. T hat's why I'm writing this statement for my lawyer. When he gets me out of here and gets me my baby back, I want to sue this department for slander. Not only do they say I don't deserve my baby, they call me "pathetic" and "mentally ill". What hurts me even more are the names they call my baby-"rotting" and "stillborn".
I see the death of everyone I meet. (Written by JJX2525, from Reddit) SHARED JUN 05 I see the death of everyone I meet. Once, when I was in kindergarten, I got booted out of class for telling the new girl Abigail that she smelt bad̳. I remember it vividly – a bloody-burny-boozy smell that hit me the moment she came in. Abigail burst into tears and I got a stern lecture on telling lıes. But it wasn’t a lie. My little nose had leapt forward ten years into the future, where a teenage Abigail would drunkenly plough her parent’s Mitsubishi straight into the front of an oncoming bus. When we met again in middle school I smelt it a second time, along with the song she’d be playing on the radio – five seconds of a generic disco beat. The last thing she’d hear. I know it’s bad҉ to say, but I think there’s something sacred about it. There’s nothing more personal then someone’s last̀ moments of lífe. I try not to take it for granted. It’s hard, sometimes, though, especially once I got older and better at it. Along with smells came sounds, sights, and even feelings, though that last one was rare. In this day and age most people go to their dEath with pastel colours and blinking machines and a faint whiff of hand sanitizer, their brains too fizzled to know what’s about to happen. There are exceptions. Like Abigail, or my middle school gym teacher, who was going to dıe with a deafening bang in a rush of mad courage. I couldn’t hear a word of his opening lecture because my ears were still ringing. Suıcıde will do that to you. Have I ever told anyone? Of course not. Can you imagine? Even if they did believe me, which I doubt, it wouldn’t be long before curiosity got the better of them. They’d want to know what I saw in them. Which is fine for the heart attacks and the quietly-in-their-sleeps, but what do you say to a m√rder? And no you can’t change it, don’t ask me because I already tried, I already tried and you can’t beat the system. You just can’t. I already lost someone to that. Her name was Phoebe and she was in my History class at community college. It was a prettɥ small place and I knew most of the other kids there – except for her. We weren’t on speaking terms because every time she came within a few feet of me I got the urge to vom1t. It was motion sickness, but also something worse – fear. Hers was the worst fear I’d ever felt in another human being. I could hardly stand to be in the same room as her. I managed to avoid her for a couple months, until one day when she arrived late to class. She apologised and looked around, before striding to the back of the room and sitting beside me. There was nothıng I could do. I felt it all. The nausea, the terror, and a vision too, of me stuck fast in my seat as I hurdles headlong flaming out of the sky – the ocean rushing up towards me – screaming, then – Smack. Nothıng. When I came to she was glaring at me. ‘What is your problem?’ she whispered. ‘What?’ I asked, the uneasiness subsiding. ‘I don’t –‘ ‘If you don’t like̢ me then just say so. Quit pretending to be ıll all the time.’ ‘Huh?’ I sat up, trying to get a better look at her. We’d never been this close before. She was pretty. I hadn’t thought about how I must look to her, running away every time she got close. ‘I swear it’s not on purpose.’ I said. ‘I’m sick͞ a lot. It isn’t you.’ ‘Sure.’ she said, looking back towards the front of the front of the class. ‘Honestly.’ I said. ‘Let me – let me make it up to you.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Seriously?’ And that was the start of it. Within a month we were official. It was the happiest time of my life. The sicknesses didn’t go away, but it subsided after a couple minutes, and she stopped taking it personally after a while. Dashing to the bathroom became part of the routine on dates. We did everything together, all the couple things – movies, dinners, walks. It was my first serious relationship. I convinced myself that her dEath – whatever it was – was still years into the future. For a while, anyway. At the start of the summer she told me she was going to visit her grandparents out of state. ‘The flight’s on Monday. I won’t be gone much more than a week.’ ‘Flight?’ I repeated. ‘Yeah.” she replied. ‘Hey, what’s wrong with you?’ I convinced her to take a road trip. I can’t remember the exact excuse I gave. Some nonsense about expenses, life experience, our ‘carbon footprint’. How it took me that long to guess it could be a plane crash I’ll never know. I was in too deep, I guess. But whatever it was I said she must have seen I was serious. She rented a red mini from the local garage and, after we’d packed it up, I kissed her goodbye and said it was the right decision. ‘Okay.’ She laughed. ‘Weirdo.’ Straight after she left I got the urge to call her, but I told myself I was being overprotective. I worked for a few hours, then flopped down in front of the TV. I watched bad reality shows until I got bored, then flicked to the local news station just in time to see the breakıng story of a twelve car pile-up on a suspension bridge, when a truck driver dozing at the wheel had strayed out of his lane, clipping the corner of a passing car which swerved into another, triggering a chain of collisions which ended tragically when – some viewers may find this footage disturbing – a red mini was forced over the side, plummeting into the ocean beloɯ..
r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 hr. ago villianrules After taking the ancestry test I discovered that I was related to a serial killer. It makes me so proud of continuing the legacy.
r/TwoSentenceHorror 3 hr. ago Personal-Tea7226 I stood and looked at myself in the mirror When my reflection mouthed “it’s behind you!”
KENNISON, Infant - 0D white unknown infant - b: Oct 15 1910 Brownington, Henry Co, MO - d: Oct 15 1910 Brownington, Henry Co, MO - fth: Elmer Kennison, born Henry Co, MO - mth: Willer Gibson, born Arkansas - informant: U. G. Strieby M.D., Brownington, MO - cause: abortion - bur: unknown - filed as: Infant Kennison, file no: 30480
r/TwoSentenceHorror 58 min. ago i-love-mario ⇩⇩⇩ˢᶜʳᵒˡˡ ᵈᵒʷⁿ⇩⇩⇩ I’ve always wanted to go hiking, and just yesterday some friends invited me to go to a mountain that’s right next to my town. As the green monster approached me, I looked down at my town of Whoville for the last time.
It was my fault By Reddit user three_in_the_morning ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↓ˢᶜʳᵒˡˡ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ↓ Josh and I were seniors in high school, who wanted to become math majors. He was more into solving difficult puzzles, I was more into making the solutions more faster and clean. Nonetheless, we were both teenage boys who enjoyed messing around with one another On his birthday his sister gave him a 10 x 10 x 10 Rubik's cube. His parents gave him a car: an old mustang his father had just finished tuning up the week prior. I gave him a book about the history of math. Throughout the next couple of weeks I noticed him changing. He started to talk less and less. He started to grow more thin and more tired.At lunch, his hands would just fidget under the lunch table. He spent most of his days either at home or at the library. After a three month absence from school, it was announced that he had an eating disorder and starved himself to death. we had an assembly for him in the gym. When it was his sister's turn to speak she started off by saying nice things about him before breaking down and blubbering about how it was her fault he was dead. He never had an eating disorder. He spent all his time on trying to solve the Rubik's cube she gave him for his birthday. That is when I remembered. This one time, he had went to the washroom and left the Rubik's cube on his desk. I thought it would be funny if I rearranged the stickers on it.
Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 57 min. ago BaronBigly My abductor was “kind” enough to leave a TV in my windowless cell so I could watch my devastated family on the news. I had to do a double take when I turned the TV on and there I was, smiling like a cheshire cat, my parents beside me sobbing with relief that I’d been rescued.
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