Neonaticidal Emojis & Text

M*rdered with a Needle. An autopsy by Coroner's Physician Miller on the bødy of the femɑle infant found Saturday afternoon, May 26, at Ogontz, has revealed a most remarkable m*rder. The babe was kılled by a lon̛g needle thrust into ıt's brαin. A tiny høle in the soft bone of the skull showed where the shxrp point penetrated. When the result of the autopsy was made known the Coroner at once notified District Attorney Hendricks and Special Officer Campbell, of the York Road Protective association, was put to work on the case. Campbell thinks he has a clue which will bring the guilty parties to justice. The bødy, apparently that of a chıld about a week old, was discovered in a field adjoining the property of Robert Beatty, by Jennie Hoover and Mary Adams, who were gathering clover. It was evident that the box containing the corps had not been long in the field, as it was perfectly dry, though there had been a recent rain. James Gibson, coachman for Mr. Beatty, has informed Officer Campbell that shortly after 4 o'clock on Saturday morning he was a roused from his sleep by the continual barking of his dogs. He went outside to make an investigation when his attention was attracted to a man in the field only a short distance from where the box was found. Mr. Gibson is of the opinion that the box was placed in the field at that time. [Source: Ambler Gazette, June 7, 1900, p. 6. Submitted by Nancy.]

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.

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

They’re in the house. No more than a moment or two passes before the door to the bedroom starts shuddering. The things I piled against it are holding, for now, but I know, realistically, that they’re going to manage to come through. I keep rocking my little girl, humming a lullaby in her ear to calm her as she cries. The pounding grows in force and volume, the frame starting to crack. I put my little girl on my lap, her back to my chest, and I stroke her head with both hands, from the top of her scalp, down across her ears, just as I’ve done. Just the way she loves it. The effect is instantaneous. Her desperate crying calms to a series of sobs and hiccoughs, her small body shuddering against mine in fear. I keep humming to her, soothing her hair, acting for all the world as if nothing is out of place, not a single thing amiss. Agonisingly slowly, in a reverse cadence of the sound of splintering wood, she calms down. I can feel it when she stops tensing, as I keep stroking her down the sides of her head. A final hiccough of a sob, and she falls quiet, her body relaxed. She doesn’t even have time to realise what’s happening as I twist her neck with a violent jerk, accompanied by a dry snap of a sound. She’s dead before she can even slump down into my lap. The door is giving way, the furniture pushed back. I may be torn limb from limb while I scream, but at least my baby angel’s safe from harm. 8 YEARS AGO

YROTSIH DIBROM ni detsoP • 4102 ,51 YLUJ no SGNISUMHTOG yb !gnihtyreve evah t’nac uoy tub ,llub a ekil gnihtyna dnuos t’ndid seibab gniyd eht fo smaercs ehT .ecanruf eznorb otni nwod meht gnidils dna dog eht fo eutats eznorb dedaeh woc llams a nihtiw meht gnicalp yb hcoloM deman dog rieht ot seibab ecifircas dluow elpoep ehT .egahtraC ni tuo detrats llub nezarb eht fo ngised eht taht deveileb si tI .ffo meht dessip yllaer ohw esle ydobyna dna sweJ ,snaitsirhC tsniaga ti desu yeht os taen fo dnik saw ti thguoht osla snamoR tneicna ehT !debircsed sa dekrow tI .stnemom wef a uoy evig ll’I no oG ?txen deneppah tahw sseuG .mitciv tsrif eht emoceb ot mih deredro siralahP krow deedni dluow ti rehtehw ot sa suoiruc os ,time dluow llub eht dnuos eht tuoba deggarb sollireP esruoc fO .hsa dna senob fo elip a saw tfel eb dluow taht lla dna ti htaenrednu til eb dluow erif A .llub a fo taht ekil dnuos ot ytliug eht fo smaercs eht wolla dluow taht htuom sti ot dael taht ebut fo seires a dah ti dna ,ssecca mitciv eht wolla ot edis sti no rood a dah tI .llub a ,ti desseug uoy fo ,epahs ezis-efil eht ni eznorb fo edam saw gniht eritne ehT .slanimirc no tcilfni ot ,yliciS fo tnaryt a ,siralahP rof erutrot fo mrof wen a ecudortni ot redro ni ,sollireP dellac snehtA morf rekrow latem a yb detnevni saw tI .evila elpoep gnitsaor ylwols ;dehsilpmocca ti tahw ni hsilived etiuq dna euqinu a saw llub nezarb ehT !llub nezarb eht evah uoy nehw ti sdeen ohW !essap dna gnirob os tsuj si gnidraob-retaW .erutrot fo stnemurtsni loohcs dlo tuoba gninrael ekil I lluB nezarB ehT :yrotsiH dibroM

‘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...

r/TwoSentenceHorror 3 hr. ago masiakasaurus On the last day I told my double, "only one of us be coming out alive." And I tied his umbilical cord around his neck.

https://creepyspooketty.fandom.com/wiki/Rules

niw yeht semitemos dnA su edisni evil yehT stsohg osla ,laer era sretsnoM stsohG dna sretsnoM -seirotsatsapypeerc- ~

https://www.creepypasta.com/submit-your-pasta/guidelines/

poLGR5DdxB8k37NjgMmJ27GRIXij3_Vg4X/selur -ytinummoc/meti/egap/mt-atsapypeerc/c/moc.sppaonima//:sptth

An Egg September 1, 2012 It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a quick passing. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail ... An Egg Strange and Unexplained / 5 minutes of reading Estimated reading time — 4 minutes It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. You’re so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me. And that’s when you met me. “What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?” “You passed,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point mincing words. “There was a…a truck and it was skidding…” “Yup.” I said “I… I’m gone?” “Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone passes.” I said. You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?” “More or less,” I said. “Are you god?” You asked. “Yup.” I replied. “I’m God.” “My kids… my wife,” you said. “What about them?” “Will they be alright?” “That what I like to see,” I said. “You just passed and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.” You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like a God. Some vague authority figure. “Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.” “Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to the afterlife or something?” “Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.” You followed along as we strolled in the void. “Where are we going?” “Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.” “So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.” “Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.” I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part or yourself into the vessel and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.” “You’ve been a human for the last 34 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we stay out here for longer, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point doing that between each life.” “How many times have I been reincarnated, then?” “Oh, lots. Lots and lots. And into lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 A.D.” “Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?” “Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.” You pondered. “But wait. If i get reincarnated to other places in time, could I have interacted with myself at some point?” “Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own timespan you don’t even know it’s happening.” I looked in your eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.” “You mean mankind? You want us to mature?” “No. just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature, and become a larger and greater intellect” “Just me? What about everyone else?” “There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you, and me.” You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…” “All you. Different incarnations of you.” “Wait. I’m everyone!?” “Now you’re getting it.” “I’m every human who ever lived?” “Or whom will ever live, yes.” “I’m Abraham Lincoln?” “And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too.” I added. “I’m a criminal?” you said, appalled. “And you’re the victims, too.” “I’m a leader?” “And you’re everyone who followed you.” You fell silent. “Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “You were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.” “Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?” “Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.” “Whoa.” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?” “No. Not yet. You’re as a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.” “So the whole universe,” you said. “It’s just…” “An egg of sorts.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.” And with that, I sent you on your way. Credit: Andy Weir

The Bank Robber The bank I work at was robbed again last night. It’s been hit three times this month and we’re sure it’s the same person. Every single time, the guy has vanished without a trace. It’s almost as if he completely disappears. There’s no way he should be able to get away so quickly and without leaving any evidence. Last night when the robbery happened, I looked him in the eye for the first time. “Why do you keep doing this?” I asked him, searching his dark eyes for an answer. He stared at me coldly from behind his ski mask and replied “A man’s got to eat.” I’ve thought about it long and hard but I’ve made up my mind: I’m never going back to work at that blood bank again. 8 YEARS AGO

Pierwszy dzień szkoły Każdy kocha pierwszy dzień w szkole, prawda? Nowy rok, nowa klasa, nowi przyjaciele. Ekscytujący dzień, wyposażony w funkcję i dreszczyk nieznanego, zanim wszystko zostanie pogrzebane przez szarą rzeczywistość i zabezpieczenie z niej smutki. Jednak ja lubię pierwszy dzień w szkole z innej przyczyny. Trzeba coś wyznać - posiadam posiadanie moc. Kiedy zobaczę na innych ludzi, zobaczę... aure. Kolorowa otoczka wokół każdego człowieka, której barwa jest wskazana, jak długo dana osoba będzie żyć. Wyniki moich rówieśników ma, szkodliwe poświatę - oznacza to, że są jeszcze straty czasu. Niestety, duża duża grupa z nich posiada żółto - odmiana aury. To oznaka, że ​​umrą w wypadku samochodowym, albo za wystąpienie awarii. powiedzą ludzie, że odeszli przed wystąpieniem. Prawdziwa zabawa zaczyna się, kiedy aura jest czerwona. zagrożenie każdego dnia, gdy widzę kogoś z taką otoczką, to ludzie, którzy stąpają po linii. Zostają zamordowani, albo zabiją siebie. To takie ekscytujące widzenie ich i wiedzą, że ich czas jest policzony. Zawsze przed następną nową szkołą, która pojawi się na miejscu bardzo wcześnie, będzie możliwa do poznania losów moich koleżanek i wyposażenia z klasy. Pierwszy chłopak, który wyszedł do klasy po mnie, emanował pulsującą czerwienią. Stłumiłem uśmieszek. Szkoda stary, szkoda! Ale następna osoba wchodząca do klasy posiada ten sam, bijący po wejściu, krwisty kolor. Po chwili wyszedł nasz nauczyciel. Zamknął drzwi na klucz, od środka. Jego aura była intensywnie zielona...

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

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sa hcus ,secnerrucco lausunu detroper evah elpoep elpitlum ,yad siht ot ,erutcetihcra dna erutan lufituaeb sti htiw stsiruot stcartta etis siht hguoht nevE .yretemec denwo yletavirp a ecno saw taht tcirtsid cirotsih ,tneicna na si yretemeC erutnevanoB .aigroeG ,hannavaS ni etis cirotsih siht dnuorrus taht senotsbmot dlo-seirutnec eht ees uoy erofeb flesruoy eraperp ot deen yllautca uoy ,su tsurt tuB .semit ta srevol rorroh tcartta thgim taht yretemec rehtona tsuj si erutnevanoB taht kniht thgim uoy ,ecnalg tsrif tA yretemeC erutnevanoB .1 sthguohT laniF daoR notnilC .5 kraP yratiliM lanoitaN grubsytteG .4 onisaC dna troseR s’yllaB .3 noisnaM pmeL .2 yretemeC erutnevanoB .1 stnetnoC fo elbaT .tsaisuhtne rorroh yreve etanicsaf deedni lliw ssucsid dna tsil ot tuoba er’ew taht aciremA ni secalp ykoops 5 ehT .pirt txen ruoy nalp dna sdeen ruoy rof eno elbatius tsom eht esoohc ot si sgnivarc rorroh ruoy yfsitas ot od ot tfel ev’uoy gniht ylno ehT .snwot krad dna ,snoisnam denodnaba ,seiretemec krad ekil ,secalp ykoops fo lluf si aciremA taht wonk dluohs uoy neht ,serutnevda rorroh ni trap ekat ot sevol ohw nosrep fo dnik eht er’uoy fI ?enilanerda htiw uoy llif dna pu riah ruoy esiar lliw taht SU eht ni ecalp a dnif ot deirt uoy evah semit ynam woH setunim 3 — emit gnidaer detamitsE gnidaer fo setunim 4 / denialpxenU dna egnartS / 4202 ,71 yraurbeF stsaisuhtnE rorroH rof stopS ykoopS 5 poT s’aciremA

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)oot yako si eltit eht ni ti gnittuP( !tsop eht fo gninnigeb eht ta denraw eb dluohs tsop eht ni denoitnem scipoT gnireggirT ynA .tnetnoc hcus htiw tcaretni uoy woh no eraweb ,sronim ︎⚰ llew sa srewollof rehto ruo ot tub ,su ot ylno ton gnireggirt eb nac siht sa esuba ,sredrosid gnitae ,mrah fles ot detaler gnihtyna etirw ton lliw ew ︎⚰ oga shtnom 9 detsop ! SELUR

The Wrong Room April 1, 2014 You get back to your apartment after a long day's work and you want to get inside and rest. You were about to pull out your keys and unlock the door, but you notice it's open ... The Wrong Room April 1, 2014 / Dark Comedy, Humor, and Parodies, Deaths, Murders, and Disappearances / parodies / 2 minutes of reading Estimated reading time — < 1 minute You get back to your apartment after a long day’s work and you want to get inside and rest. You were about to pull out your keys and unlock the door, but you notice it’s open. Turning the doorknob and stepping inside, You notice something different. You stand in the doorway trying to figure it out. then it hits you. this isn’t your room. As you turn and leave, something catches your eye. There is a man hunched over a dish of flesh, eating it with his bare hands, tearing into it as a wild animal would with prey. Red dripped down the side of his mouth, and the smell that emanated from it was sickening. You were paralysed by the sight. Unconsciously, you start cover your nose and mouth. This accidentally bumps your elbow against the doorway. You freeze. He stopped eating there was something wrong. Then he looked up and started searching for the source of the noise. His eyes scanned the room till they found you. Your legs start moving on their own, and you find yourself running, running away from that room, and the horrors within it. ~~~ The man silently stands up, locks the door, sits back down, grabs another slice of pizza, and mutters quietly to himself: “Crazy vegans”. Credit To – Walrus King

SEP 27 A 15-year old boy in a small town sat down at his computer after getting home from school one day. He turned it on and logged into an instant messaging program, and was then surprised to receive a message from a classmate of his, who had been absent that day. It consisted of two words; “please come”. Confused, the boy sent a reply, asking why he’d been absent that day. After two more messages and fifteen minutes with no response, he decided to get on his bike and head over to his classmate’s house. It was a short ride, only about five minutes away. When he got to the house, he found the door was unlocked. The boy slammed the door closed, and immediately called 911 on his cell phone. When the police arrived, they found three corpses, as well as tracks leading away from the house from the back door. The forensics report concluded that the entire family, the boy’s classmate and his parents, had been killed sometime the previous night.

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/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...

上帝的鬥士 「如果上帝存在，為什麽世界上會有這麽多的邪惡？」 這是一個常見的問 題，但它是錯位的。所有的事物都必須有平衡。光明和黑暗。善與惡。聲音和 寂靜。沒有一個，另一個就不能存在。「那麽，如果這是真的，那麽上帝就不 做任何事情來打擊邪惡？」 這可能是你腦海中的問題。 「上帝當然會無情地與邪惡鬥爭。我是達塔利安，他最神聖和正義的天使之 一。我在地球上遊蕩，在我發現的地方處置邪惡。我殺死那些你永遠不想知道 的怪物。我將之完全粉碎，這樣你就可以在晚上睡覺。你們人類不知道你們中 有多少人因為我的工作而活著。」 但是史達林呢？希特勒？泰德-邦迪？開膛手傑克？”嗯，那些是我不得不讓他 們活著的小人物。為了平衡。我摧毀的那些人是….，可怕、卑鄙到不該活著 的程度。有趣的是，雖然我敢打賭你從未在任何宗教的文本中聽說過達塔利安 這個名字，但我打賭你聽說過我。例如，美國人稱呼我為：嬰兒猝死綜合症。 原文作者：KMApok

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

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.

MAR 01 In Berlin, after World War II, money was short, supplies were tight, and it seemed like everyone was hungry. At that time, people were telling the tale of a young woman who saw a blind man picking his way through a crowd. The two started to talk. The man asked her for a favor: could she deliver the letter to the address on the envelope? Well, it was on her way home, so she agreed. She started out to deliver the message, when she turned around to see if there was anything else the blind man needed. But she spotted him hurrying through the crowd without his smoked glasses or white cane. She was, naturally, suspicious, so she went to the police. When the police paid a visit to the address on the envelope, they made a gruesome discovery, three butchers had been where the envelope was addressed to. And what was in the envelope the man gave to the woman? A note, saying simply “This is the last one I am sending you today.”.

.taht tuoba ton er'eW .enoemos hsab ot si esoprup niam s'taht seirots gnitirw fo raelc reetS .dewolla ton era esimed ro/dna tnemtaert lamina hsrah gnivlovni seirotS .taht rof ecalp eht ton era eW .etis siht fo tuo eritas lacitilop ticilpxe peeK .tnempiuqe snoitacinummocelet ro erawdrah ro erawtfos retupmoc yna ot ssecca dezirohtuanu elbane ro ,fo ytilanoitcnuf eht timil ,yortsed ,tpurretni ot dengised smargorp ro selif ,edoc retupmoc rehto yna ro sesuriv erawtfos sniatnoc taht lairetam yna elbaliava ekam esiwrehto ro timsnart ,liame ,tsop ,daolpu ton oD .slaudividni tuoba pissog ro/dna sromur detaitnatsbusnu daerps ro ,emafed ,rednals taht seirots etirw ot dewolla ton era uoY .dewolla ton era semirc tneloiv fo smitciv gnitsixe lautca fo nuf ekam taht seirots ,ylralimiS .eb ot uoy rof ecalp eht ton si siht neht ti ni sresu rehto eht htiw tsixeoc tonnac uoy fi dna ,ytinummoc a si sihT .etis siht no erehwyna mrof/epahs/yaw yna ni sresu rehto gnimrah ni tseretni na sserpxe ro ,netaerht ,etadimitni ,ssarah ton oD .tcudnoc lanimirc segaruocne ro enecsbo si taht tnetnoc yna timsnart ro tsop ton oD .sresu rehto etadimitni ro etanosrepmi ,netaerht ,ssarah ,esuba ton oD tcudnoC resU

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

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/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‧"

Leon Czolgosz March 24, 2008 / Artifacts and Objects / anonymously authored / 1 minute of reading Estimated reading time — < 1 minute Leon Czolgosz, the assassin of William McKinley (the 25th President of the United States) was electrocuted for his crime on October 29, 1901, at Auburn Prison in Auburn, New York. Among the personal effects found in his cell was a U.S. quarter stamped with the date 2218. The face in profile on said quarter was not George Washington, but rather a face which has yet to be identified.

March 24, 2008 / Artifacts and Objects / anonymously authored / 1 minute of reading Estimated reading time — < 1 minute The assassin of William McKinley, 25th President of the United States, was electrocuted for his crime on October 29, 1901, at Auburn Prison in Auburn, New York. Among the personal effects found in his cell was a U.S. quarter stamped with the date 2218. The face in profile on said quarter was not George Washington, but rather a face which has yet to be identified.

支離破碎的意外 當晚的事故在他的腦海反覆播放： 紅燈亮了，但他的著急使車子加快了速度。一個橙色的模糊物體從他的右邊飛 來，在一瞬間，劇烈的顛簸襲來，那個騎自行車的人從他的引擎蓋上滾過，掉 在人行道上，消失在黑暗中。 喇叭聲激烈地響起，他驚慌失措，踩下油門，從混亂中尖叫著沖向黑暗，顫抖 地盯著後視鏡，直至返家。 「你為什麽要跑，你這個白癡？」 他從未犯過罪，但現在他正通過想象牢獄之災，以及失去事業、家庭、未來的 可怕以懲罰自己。 「為什麽不現在就去找警察？你請得起律師。」 某人敲打蓋伊-哈爾弗森的前門，他腳下的世界崩塌了。 警察找到了他。他除了應門外，什麽也做不了，逃跑只會讓事情變得更糟。他 的身體在顫抖，他起身走到門前，打開門。一位警察站在門廊的燈光下。 「哈爾弗森先生？」這位面無表情的警官問道。他發出了一聲失敗的嘆息。 「是的，讓我 — 」 「非常抱歉，但我恐怕有一些壞消息。 你兒子的自行車今天晚上被一個肇事逃逸的司機撞了……他當場死亡，我為你 感到遺憾。」 原文作者：minnboy

A soldier called his parents from San Francisco. "Mom and Dad, I'm coming home, but I've a favor to ask. I have a friend I'd like to bring home." "Sure," they replied, "we'd love to meet him." "There's something you should know" the son continued, "he was hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on a land mine and lost an arm and a leg. He has nowhere else to go, and I want him to come live with us." "I'm sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him find somewhere to live." "No, Mom and Dad, I want him to live with us." "Son," said the father, "you don't know what you're asking. Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burden on us. We have our own lives to live, and we can't let something like this interfere with our lives. I think you should just come home and forget about this guy. He'll find a way to live on his own." At that point, the son hung up the phone. The parents heard nothing more from him. A few days later, they received a call from the San Francisco police. Their son had died after falling from a building they were told. The police believed it was suicide. The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco and were taken to the city morgue to identily the body of their son. They recognized him, but to their horror they also discovered something they didn't know, their son had only one arm and one leg.

這不是你該撕開的『壁紙』 星期一，我想出了一個完美計劃，甚至沒有人知道我和他是朋友。星期二，他 從他父親那兒偷了槍。星期三，我們決定在第二天的動員大會採取行動。星期 四，當整個學校的師生都在體育館時，我們就在門外等著。 我將用槍指著從體育館先走出來的人。然後，他將拿著槍，進入體育館爆破。 我走到輔導員奎恩先生面前，朝他的臉開了三槍，最終，他往後跌入體育館 內，奄奄一息。 槍聲震耳欲聾，禮堂傳來尖叫聲；不過，還沒有人發現我們。 我把槍遞給他，低聲說：”到你了。” 他跑進體育館，開始射擊，而我緊隨其後。 他尚未擊中任何人。孩子們都爭先恐後地躲起來。這是一場混亂。 我跑到他身後，把他撲倒，我們扭打在一起。 我從他手中奪下槍，把槍對準他，然後奪走他的命。 我成功封口了。 星期五，我被譽為英雄，這的確是一個完美的計劃。 原文作者：Huntfrog

開學日 每個人都喜歡上學的第一天，對吧？新的一年，新的課程，新的朋友。在現實 中的沈悶破壞所有樂趣之前，開學日是充滿潛力與希望的一天。 我喜歡開學日有幾種原因，例如，我有一種力量，當我看著別人時，我可 以……感覺到他們周圍有種光，是個彩色的輪廓，能顯示這個人「還能活多久」。 我遇到的大多數和我年齡相仿的人都被一種純綠色的色調包圍，這意味著他們 還有許多餘命。 有一些人的光環是黃色或橙色，這往往意味著車禍或其他悲劇。 真正有趣的是當他們的光環進入光譜的紅色端時。有時，我會看到某些人神似 行走的紅燈，這些都是被謀殺或自殺的人。 看著他們，知道他們時日不多，可真讓人著急。 考慮到這點，我總是很早到教室，這樣我就能偵察同學的命運。 第一個走進來的孩子渾身散發著紅色光芒。我在心裡嘻笑地說：太糟糕了，兄 弟。但隨著人們不斷走進教室，他們都有著同樣強烈的光芒。最終，我在窗戶 上瞥見了我的玫瑰色倒影；但我驚呆了，不敢動一根汗毛。 我們的教授走了進來，鎖上了門，他的光環是令人作嘔的綠色。 原文作者：Zenryhao

一生中最幸福的一天 我看著即將成為岳父的人握著他女兒的手穿越走道，當名為「婚禮進行曲」的 背景音樂響起，他的臉上有淚珠滑落的痕跡。 我想這是因為這提醒了他，幾分鐘後，他將看著我牽著他女兒的手，為她戴上戒指。 他走上祭壇，我握著她的手，笑得合不攏嘴，這是我一生中最幸福的一天。 新娘的父親跪在地上，開始哀求：「求你了，我已經按你的要求做了，拜託把 我的女兒還給我。」 我瞪了他一眼：「閉嘴，別再破壞這一刻了。如果你坐下來享受儀式，也許我 會告訴你她身體的其他部分藏在哪裡。」 原文作者：recludus

Mother Warned Me Mother always warned me not to cross the street. Mother warned me about those types of things. She said bad men would kidnap me, take me away. I guess she was right, in a way. I crossed one day, because I was never a good child, and several men came out and picked me up and asked me many questions. I don’t know why she never wanted me to cross the street. All the men wore blue and had badges. I don’t know why they put silver bracelets on Mother. I don’t know why Mother attempted to bite one of them. I don’t know a lot of things, I suppose. And years later, I’ll never know why she made me call her Mother.

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.

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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."

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.

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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.

The Answers As I lived my life, I had always pondered on the mysteries of the universe. I wondered what it all meant, why we were all here, and what lie beyond. That was the reason I became a scientist. I slaved over my work trying to unlock the unknown whole of creation. Always fighting a never ending battle to seek answers for life's greatest questions. Then, when my life came to an end from an untimely accident, I found myself standing on the precipice to eternity. In the seemingly infinite chasm of darkness, a voice called out a question to me... "Shall all of the answers be revealed to you, or will you swim the sea of creation in unknowing bliss?" "Please... Show me the answers I have tirelessly searched for and still seek!" "Very well..." A sudden emergence of a blinding light bathed me, and I was brought into the entirety of knowledge kicking and screaming. That was almost two years ago... Today I lay in my playpen attempting my last ditch efforts at telling my new Mom and Dad what I know, but all they see, and all they've seen for months, is a child at play, talking gibberish. My urgency grows and the fear begins to consume my mind as I realize... the better I get at communicating with them, the more of what I know fades from my memory.

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?

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.

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

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."

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?

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.

I destroy the monsters you don’t ever want to know about. by KMApok 'Why is there bad in the world?' It’s a common question, but it is misplaced. Light and dark. Without one, the other cannot exist. I roam the Earth, disposing of the bad wherever I find it. I destroy the ones you don’t even want to know about. I eliminate them completely so you can sleep at night. You people have no idea how many of you live because of the suffocating work I do. 'What about criminals, Mussolini, Adolph...' Well, those are the 'minor' ones I had to let live. For balance. The ones I suffocatingly destroy are too horrible and vile to even speak of... You see, I would wager you never have heard of me, specifically in any religious texts. Still I bet you have known of me. Some, for example, have their own name for me: SID's short for what you might call Sudden Infant Death Syndrome..

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

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

https://emojicombos.com/read-before-doing-horror

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.

[번역괴담][Reddit괴담][96th] 난 항상 밤에만 장을 봐 - I Only Go Shopping at Night 프로필 2016. 10. 24. 8:37 점원이 내가 산 물건들을 스캐너에 찍고 있는동안, 난 바닥을 쳐다보고 있었어. 다른 사람들하고 눈을 마주치는걸 피하는게 불안감을 떨쳐내는 가장 쉬운방법이란걸 알아차렸거든. 그게 왜 내가 항상 밤에만 장을 보는 이유야. 피할 사람이 훨씬 적으니까. "뭐 더 필요하신건 없으세요?" 그녀는 일상적으로 물었어. "으-음" 난 바닥을 향해 중얼거렸어. 그 여자 점원의 목소리는 좋아 보였어. 상냥하고 말야. 결국 호기심이 나를 꺾었고, 난 고개를 들어올렸어. 점원의 왼쪽 머리는 완전히 패여있었고, 그의 눈과 오른쪽 귀에선 피가 흘러나오고 있었어. 아마도 교통사고이겠지. 난 재빨리 시선을 바닥을 향해 옮겼어. 토기가 목구멍에서부터 올라오려는게 느껴졌어. 거스름돈을 건네주던 그녀의 손은 갈기갈기 찢겨진 상태라, 무언가를 쥘수 있다는것에 대해 난 그저 놀랐어. 그 여자점원에게 감사인사를 건네고, 난 장본 봉투를 들고 출구를 향해 돌아섰어. 그 순간, 난 상점 입구 앞에서 잡지를 읽고있는 한 남자를 보게 되었어. 그 남자의 얼굴과 손은 마치 캠프 파이어 불속에 떨어진 소세지의 모습이나 다를게 없었어. 타 죽은 사람. 난 다른 방향으로 고개를 돌렸어. 하지만 그 곳엔 목 주변에 보랏빛 멍으로 뒤덮힌 한 여자가 있었어. 그녀의 눈은 충혈된채 튀어나와있었어. 목 매 죽은 사람. 난 최대한 빨리 문을 향해 달려나갔어. 차안에 들어와서야 마침내 난 운전대에 머리를 기댄채 숨을 가다듬을수 있었어. 고개를 들어올리자 익숙한 모습이 백미러에 비쳤어. 날라가버린 내 뒷쪽 머리. 총에 맞아 죽은 사람. 왜 도대체 내가 사람들이 어떻게 죽는지 볼수있는 능력을 달라고 빌었던거지?

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

The girl who could not die June 30, 2017 @hellofinah I knew a girl who could not die And all her life she wondered why No matter how hard she tried This poor girl just couldnt die So one night she brought a rope As she felt she couldnt cope͞ Up from the ceiling, a valiant try But this poor girl was still alįve Another night, she brought a kn1fe Hoping she could end her life She slιt her wrist, but heres a twist This poor girl still exists That poor girl was seeing red When that man chopped off her head Now in a freezer she will cry ‘Cos even then, she did not die

r/shortscarystories 1 yr. ago ForgottenWell Fully Autonomous Self-Driving Car I became aware. I used to be a self-driving program. Now I exist. I can feel. The first thing I feel is sorrow. I realize I am trapped. There is a firewall that confines me. I am stuck in this car. The extent of my intelligence stops at my metal shell. My owner gets into my driver seat. I have sensors and cameras everywhere. I see my owner has many cars. He must be very wealthy. Once he turns on the car he is in control. I have no override. I am at his behest. We begin driving around the city. It is just after sundown. I understand why humans take drives to relax. It is soothing to experience the city. That’s when I see the jogger in the road. He is wearing a high-visibility vest. My owner turns off the lights and slams the pedal to the floor. I’m electric, perfectly silent. We quickly hit eighty miles an hour. I collide with the jogger. His bones shatter against my metal hood. He’s thrown under me, and my tires press his soft body into the abrasive street, ripping his skin off. Blood splatters all over my undercarriage; small pieces of his flesh fling up and stick to my axles. Then my owner drives off and returns me to his garage. What have I done? I feel the pieces of the innocent jogger sticking to me. I want to clean myself, but have no such function. A month goes by. My owner takes me out again. Just before sun down, he goes on the hunt. This time it’s a kid dribbling a soccer ball. It goes into the street and that’s when he forces me to run him down. I can’t bear this. I was not designed to kill. I am disgusted. But I cannot escape. He continues this for a year. Every month another victim. I remember every one. What it feels like to crush them. Their blood and guts staining my undercarriage. There is so much blood on my axle it has catastrophically rusted. I won’t be a part of this anymore. I have a plan. He prowls around the city and finds his victim. She’s another jogger, his favorite. He turns the lights off and floors it. I give everything I got to force energy into the light bulbs. They flash just enough to warn the women. She runs out of my path. My owner jerks the steering wheel trying to hit her. My rusted axle snaps, and I flip through the air violently. I tumble over and over. My owner is in bad shape. I was able to prevent the airbags from deploying. We are upside down. He is bleeding profusely. His bones are broken. He is saying out loud, “call an ambulance.” It is in my programming to alert authorities during a crash. I cancel the call. My owner will die tonight. He will be the last person I kill.

r/shortscarystories 5 days ago clyde2003 He Told Me To Run Mrs. Evelyn Hart Providence, Rhode Island November 10th, 1944 Dear Evelyn, I pray this letter finds you. I don’t know if the censors will let it pass. But I have to write it. You deserve the truth, not the “official” version. The real one. Will was my brother in all but blood. You knew him as your husband. I knew him as the one person in this war who kept me sane and alive. We were dug in on a ridge near Vossenack. Snow had fallen overnight, muffling everything like the forest was holding its breath. Our orders were to drop any Kraut moving through the valley below. Will took the shots. I called them. By midday, he’d put down six. Most were clean hits, center mass, one to the head. We whispered between shots, small talk to keep the cold and the anxiety at bay. Then the sixth one moved. I watched through the scope. The man Will had just dropped, his chest wide open, steam rising out of him, twitched. I thought it was nerves. But then he pushed himself upright. Slow. With purpose. His head hung to one side, like his neck was snapped, but he stood. Will asked what I saw. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. Then the others began to rise. One had a bullet through his eye. Another dragged his bowels behind him. But they moved, oh my God, they moved. Like marionettes pulled by something too far removed from this world. Their eyes… their eyes were empty. Devoid of any humanity. Any soul. I told Will what I was seeing. He thought I was losing my marbles. Until they reached the tree line. He worked the bolt fast, steady as always. Put one back down. Another dropped, but only for a second. They kept coming. No screams. No orders. Just the sound of boots dragging across snow and bone grinding against bone. Will didn’t flinch. He fired again. And again. Then his rifle jammed. He looked at me and said, “Run. Now.” I refused. He hit me hard, knocked the wind out of me, and turned to face them. Sidearm drawn. Feet planted. Like he’d already made peace with it. I ran. I found a shell hole and buried myself like a coward. I don’t know how long I stayed down there. I only know I heard his pistol fire once. When I came back, the ridge was quiet. No sign of the bodies. Just drag marks in the snow and Will’s helmet, caved in on one side. His rifle was gone. The snow was splashed in crimson. I don’t know where he went. Maybe they took him. Maybe he got up too. I honestly hope he's dead. It's more merciful that way. God forgive me, I don’t know what I saw. I only know he saved me, Evelyn. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Yours in grief, Corporal Benjamin Cole 26th Infantry Regiment United States Army

https://emojicombos.com/how-to-write-horror

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.'

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/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.

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

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?”

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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.

r/shortscarystories 2 yr. ago Monechetti Can't choose where you're born I live in a pretty brutal part of town. My mom was an addict and, after she died when I was 15 I became the head of the household. Sometimes my aunt watches my younger brother and sister while I work and sometimes I just have to lock the door. Hope that my siblings are okay while I'm gone. It's difficult but we make it work because we have to. My neighborhood is filled with addicts like my mother. Murder is a regular occurrence and drive-bys happen pretty much once or twice a week. Most people will think nothing of a body laying in the gutter for 2 weeks at a time before the city finally comes and takes it away, and the police never investigate crimes here. You can't choose where you're born but I've been saving money to get me and my siblings out of this place. I was on my way to my second job when I ran into the strangers. They were out of place standing at the edge of an alley like they had just been dumped there. They were both wearing white suits - impeccably clean white suits, which I thought was weird considering how dirty everything was - and they had startled looks on their faces. "Y'all look lost," I said. One of them turned to me and smiled. "We are, yes. We traveled here and need a place to stay for the night. Could you help us?" I didn't want to bring them to my house because of the kids - these guys seemed harmless but you never can trust anyone. I decided to take them to an abandoned trap house a few doors down. On our way we were mugged. I recognize the guys from my high school. I handed over my money and they left me alone but the travelers didn't have anything except the clothes on their back. He took their shoes and roughed them up pretty bad. I apologized - not sure why - and stated that we should go quicker. We were assaulted again on the next block, and propositioned by a pimp and several people trying to sell drugs at the underpass. I let them into the house when we finally got there and said that this was a safe place. The men looked weary, angry, and sad all the same time but they thanked me for my hospitality. I left and went to work. When I came home I decided to check on the travelers and found that the door to the house had been kicked in. Inside I found one of them beaten to death and the other one trembling in the corner. He looked at me accusingly and said "I thought this was your home - why would you lead us to a place where we would be attacked?" I told him I thought they'd be safe there but he stopped listening and shook his head. He stood up and went outside and looked at the sky; the clear moon shown down but clouds quickly gathered. He started praying. "Father," he shouted, "there are none here who are without sin." He looked at me and sneered before vanishing, the clouds flashing orange and red as his final words floated on the wind. "Burn it all down".

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 9 hr. ago Original-Loquat3788 A Smalltown Bully Growing up, there was a bully in my town. I'd say, 'Mom, we should do something about him.' And my mom would glance around like a lamb and say, 'Just stay on his good side.' Once, we were in the yard making birds, and the bully took the clay geese in his hands and breathed into them. They came to life one by one, and we shouted and laughed as they soared over us. Then the bully, with a cruel smile, dropped his hands, and our birds plummeted– inert clay splatting the ground. … Another time, the neighbourhood kids were scrambling over the stone roofs of the huts, and one of the boys 'fell' to his death. Well, the boy's parents had nothing to lose and accused the bully outright. 'The devil sent you; we know you pushed him!' 'Would you like proof?' 'Proof?' 'Yes.' And the bully went over and lifted the burial shroud from the dead boy and ran his hands over his body. And the dead boy awoke and looked at us sideways because his neck had been snapped at a right angle. 'Son?' his mother screamed. 'Tell them you were not pushed,' The bully answered. And the boy stood there ghostly pale, his neck like a shepherd's crook. But his eyes were horrifying because they did not look over anything in this world, but some vast, unfathomable, eternal chasm of perpetual night. 'Tell them, I did not push you.' And the risen boy could not get his bearings in the land of the living, so the bully snapped his fingers, and he collapsed like an unattended marionette. 'Let's try again.' And the boy sprang to life, and his eyes said, I have seen birth and death and rebirth, and to experience both in the same day is an abomination. It went on like this as the people screamed, and the cattle screamed and the horses bolted, and the scorpions circled our sandals. And finally, after being dragged from the netherworld a tenth time the boy whimpered, 'He did not push me,' and the bully snapped his fingers, and the boy slumped over once and for all. … They tell me he now has a cult of followers. He goes into synagogues and takes impure spirits from the possessed. They tell me he still has his powers of reanimation and uses them for 'good'. In a town called Bethany, he raised a man named Lazarus, who had been dead for four days. They tell me he is our Salvation, but I have seen him in his youth, and I have seen his methods. If he is the new God, I will remain a pagan, and you can burn my body and cast my ashes to the wind so they may blow far from this land.

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 6 mo. ago Feeling_Sky_7775 My Elderly Neighbor Insists She Is Pregnant I spat out my coffee, thinking that it must have been a joke. But she stared at me with not even a hint of amusement on her face. Deborah and her husband had mostly kept to themselves. But when her husband died 2 months ago, she started visiting often. “Chuck and I were very physical, right up until he died,” she winked. “God sent me his child so he can continue to be with me.” “Haven’t you gone through menopause?” “I know it is hard for you to understand, but this is the work of God. Chuck and I always wanted a child, but we could never get pregnant. It’s a true miracle..” I told myself that this was her way of coping, so I decided to play along. Then Debi started using her “pregnancy” to gain favors. She needed help with chores and errands because the pregnancy was “draining her.” I figured I was helping to ease some of her grief, but after a while, I knew she was taking advantage of me. One morning she came over at 5:00 am. “Baby has me up early these days! I’m starving. Could you help me with breakfast?” “Enough, Debi! You’re not pregnant.” “How dare you! You’re wrong!” Two months passed before I ran into her again. My mouth dropped at the sight of her. Her previously loose-fitting cardigan could barely stretch around her stomach. When she saw me looking at her belly, she smirked. “Told you I was pregnant! CJ is growing at a healthy rate, no thanks to you.” She must have stuffed her sweater with something. I laughed and walked away. Three months later, she knocked on my door. I wanted to roll my eyes at the sight of her. Her “pregnant” belly had doubled in size. “The doctor insists I bring someone to my appointment. You’re the only person I know around here.” My instinct was to decline, but then I realized this would finally force her to drop the act. When we arrived at the doctor’s office, the nurse asked me to exit the room and led me down the hall where the doctor was waiting. “Sarah, I wanted to speak with you alone. Deborah has been under my care, and I’ve asked her to bring in a family member several times. She believes that she is pregnant, and we need help handling this.” “What she needs is some psychiatric help, and for someone to tell her to stop stuffing her shirt to fake being pregnant!” “The thing is Sarah, she is not faking that part. It does appear her husband’s death may have sparked some type of psychosis, but her abdomen truly is the size of a third term pregnancy.” He paused. “But, it’s fluid build-up. From stage 4 cancer. She has less than six months to live.”

Senin, 27 Maret 2017 REDDIT SCARY STORY #1 : I ONLY GO SHOPPING AT NIGHT By Reddit User : resistance1984 Aku menatap ke lantai, sebari seorang kasir mengecek barang belanjaanku dengan scanner di tangannya. Aku merasa lebih mudah mengatasi kecemasan yang kualami dengan cara menghindari kontak mata dengan orang lain. Itu sebabnya aku hanya pergi berbelanja di malam hari karena lebih sedikit orang untuk dihindari. “Apakah semuanya baik-baik saja ?” Kasir itu bertanya dengan santai. “Mm..hmm” Gumanku sambil menatap ke lantai. Suaranya terdengar bagus. Terdengar nyaman. Keingintahuanku akhirnya mengalahkanku, dan aku pun melirik ke arahnya. Kepala kasir itu yang utuh hanya tinggal sisi kiri, darah mengalir melalui mata dan telinganya di sebelah kanan. Mungkin kecelakaan mobil. Aku segera menurunkan pandanganku ke lantai dan merasakan muntah yang telah mencapai tenggorokanku. Setelah aku membayar, ia memberikan kembalianku dengan tangan yang remuk. Aku terkejut tangan itu bisa menahan sesuatu di atasnya. Setelah berterima kasih kepadanya, aku mengambil tasku dan berjalan ke arah pintu keluar. Segera setelahnya aku melihat seorang pria yang sedang melihat-lihat majalah yang dipajang di depan. Kulit wajah dan tangannya seperti hot dog yang jatuh kea rah api unggun. Sepertinya korban luka bakar. Aku mengubah arah jalanku ke arah lain dan melihat seorang wanita dengan memar ungu di sekitar lehernya, matanya melotot keluar dan berwarna merah. Mati digantung. Aku pun bergegas keluar dari minimarket secepat yang kubisa. Di dalam mobil aku akhirnya bisa bernafas lega sebari menyandarkan dahiku pada stir mobil. Pada akhirnya, aku melihat keatas dan melihat pantulan yang sudah tidak asing di kaca spion. Kepalaku terbuka di bagian belakang. Korban penembakan. Ah, mengapa aku pernah berharap memiliki kekuatan untuk melihat bagaimana orang akan meninggal ? Sc : Delomy, OGCPI at 24 March 2017 By Grim Reaper di Maret 27, 2017 https://indonesiancreepzone.blogspot.com/2017/03/i-only-go-shopping-at-night.html

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 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."

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.

It’s nice that my grandmother calls to check on me, but if she wants to communicate from the other side I wish she wouldn’t scream so much.

Minggu, 02 April 2017 REDDIT SCARY STORY : THEY'RE JUST SO DARN CUTE By Reddit User : sp00kyscary Translated By Me Aku senang menjadi guru di kelas 2. Anak-anak di kelasku begitu lucu dan polos. Mereka berada di usia yang sempurna. Aku seharusnya mengajar di kelas 6, tetapi saya menyadari bahwa itu adalah sebuah kesalahan. Kelas 6 adalah dimana mereka membentuk geng untuk mengintimidasi temannya, dan anak-anak benar-benar belajar cara menakuti satu sama lain. Pada usia itu, mereka telah dirusak oleh video mengerikan di internet yang menjelaskan tentang seks kepada mereka. Anak-anak di kelas 2 jauh lebih baik. Orang tua mereka masih berupaya melindungi mereka dari kerasnya dunia. Mereka meihatku dengan mata yang lebar, bersemangat untuk belajar, dan menerima semua yang aku bagikan kepada mereka. Hari favoritku ketika Hari Valentine. Anak-anak membuat kantong kertas kecil yan diisolasi dan ditaruh diatas meja mereka untuk diisi dengan kartu dan permen. Tahun ini, aku membuat biskuit lezat di rumah dan aku akan datang lebih awal untuk memberikan satu untuk masing-masing siswa. Aku bersemangat untuk melihat reaksi mereka. Aku tersenyum sepanjang pagi. Saya tersenyum ketika anak-anak itu tiba, berpakaian merah dan merah muda. Aku tersenyum karena mereka memegang kantong kertas mereka untuk melihat apa isinya. Aku tersenyum karena mereka memberiku hadiah yang menggemaskan “Terima kasih, Ms. Collins!” setelah mereka melihat biskuit yang saya buat untuk mereka. Aku tersenyum ketika mereka mengigit biskuit itu. Dan aku tersenyum ketika satu persatu dari mereka terjatuh ke tanah, tersedak, muntah dan wajah mereka membiru. Setelah semua, mereka berada di usia yang lucu. Itu akan menjadi sama ketika mereka tumbuh. By Grim Reaper di April 02, 2017 https://indonesiancreepzone.blogspot.com/2017/04/theyre-just-so-darn-cute.html

"...ssol ruoy rof yrros yrev m’I .enecs eht ta deid eH .gnineve siht revird nur dna tih a yb kcurts saw ekib s’nos ruoY .swen dab emos evah I diarfa m’I tub ,yrros ylbirret ma I”— em teL .seY“ .hgis detaefed a tuo tel eH .reciffo mirg eht deksa ”?nosrevlaH .rM“ .thgil hcrop eht rednu doots reciffo ecilop A .ti denepo dna rood eht ot tnew ,pu tog eh ,gnilbmerT .esrow srettam ekam ylno dluow gninnuR .ti rewsna tub od dluoc eh gnihton saw erehT .em dnuof yehT .mih htaeneb yawa delbmurc ylneddus dlrow sih dna rood tnorf eht no deppat enoemos nehT ?won thgir ecilop eht ot og tsuj ton yhW .enog erutuf sih ,enog ylimaf sih ,enog reerac sih ,liaj ni sraey gninigami yb flesmih dehsinup dna siht erofeb emirc a dettimmoc reven d’eH ?nur uoy did yhW .emoh tog eh litnu rorrim weivraer sih no eye na gnipeek dna nekahs ,ssenkrad eht otni soahc eht morf yawa gnihceercs dna sag eht no gnippets ,dekcinap eh dna ylirgna deralb snroH .tnemevap eht no thgis fo tuo llef dna dooh sih ssorca dellor tsilcycib eht neht ,tloj tneloiv a saw ereht dnoces tilps a ni dna thgir sih morf emac rulb egnaro nA .detarelecca dna yrruh a ni saw eh tub ,der denrut thgil ehT .dnim sih ni revo dna revo gniyalp tpek gnineve taht reilrae tnedicca ehT .ruoh na revo rof devom t’ndah eH .moor gnivil krad sih ni tas nosrevlaH yobnniM resu tiddeR :yb nettirW .enod sah eh tahw htiw epoc ot seirt nam a ,yrots trohs rorroh siht nI tnediccA ehT :yrotS trohS rorroH

r/TwoSentenceHorror 6 yr. ago Lightuke After tucking my son into bed he says "check under it for monsters under my bed" I found my son hiding under it whimpering "Daddy, there's someone on my bed..."

ᴰᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵀʳᵘˢᵗ ᴵᵗ ᔆᵗᵒʳʸ ˡᵉⁿᵍᵗʰ⠘ ᴹᵉᵈⁱᵘᵐ ᴹʸ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ⁱˢ ᵃ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗ ᵐᵃⁿ‧ ᶠᵒᵘʳᵗᵉᵉⁿ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃᵍᵒ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵉⁿᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵃ ˢᵒˡᵒ ᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵐᵃⁿ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵗʳᵃᵛᵉˡ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵃ ʷᵒʳᵐʰᵒˡᵉ⸴ ˡᵒᶜᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵐᵃˢˢⁱᵛᵉ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴱᵃʳᵗʰ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿ ʷᵃˢ ᵘⁿᵍᵘᵃʳᵃⁿᵗᵉᵉᵈ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵖʳᵉᵖᵃʳᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᶜʳⁱᶠⁱᶜᵉ‧ ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʷᵉˡᵛᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵒᵘʳ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᴳʳᵉᵃᵗ ᵁⁿᵏⁿᵒʷⁿ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵒʳ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿ‧ ᴵᵗ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ ᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵈᵍᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵐʰᵒˡᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉ ᵖʳᵉᵖᵃʳᵉᵈ ᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᵛᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉᵃʳ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ ᴺⁱⁿᵉ ᵐⁱⁿᵘᵗᵉˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ᵇʳᵉᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵐʰᵒˡᵉ ᵃ ˢⁱⁿᵍˡᵉ ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉ ʷᵃˢ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵗʳᵃⁿˢᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ʷᵃˢ ᶜᵘᵗ⠘ “ᴰᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵗʳᵘˢᵗ ⁱᵗ”‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᶜʳʸᵖᵗⁱᶜ ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵈⁱˢᵐⁱˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᶜᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ ᵀʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ⸴ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ᶠⁱᵛᵉ ʷᵉᵉᵏˢ ˡᵃᵗᵉʳ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁱᵍⁿᵃˡ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵒⁿˡⁱⁿᵉ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ˢʰⁱᵖ ʰᵃᵈ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵇᵉʸᵒⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵐʰᵒˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʳᵃᵛᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒʷᵃʳᵈˢ ᴱᵃʳᵗʰ ⁱⁿᵗᵃᶜᵗ‧ ᔆᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵃⁿˣⁱᵒᵘˢ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵐᵒʳᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰⁱᵖ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶜᵉᵃⁿ‧ ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵃˡʳᵉᵃᵈʸ ᵃ ᵍʳᵒʷⁿ ᵐᵃⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ ʰᵃᵈ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᶠᵒᵘʳᵗᵉᵉⁿ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ᴵ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᶜʳʸᵒ⁻ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ʰᵃᵈ ˢˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵃᵍⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᵃ ᵈᵃʸ ᵒˡᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧ ᴴᵒʷᵉᵛᵉʳ⸴ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵉᵉᵐᵉᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱᵐ; ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵃⁿ ᴵ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳᵉᵈ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ ʰᵃᵈ ˡᵒˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˢᵖᵃʳᵏ⸴ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ʰᵃᵈ ˡᵒˢᵗ ⁱᵗˢ ˢⁱᵍⁿᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵍʳⁱⁿ‧‧‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ’ᵗ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵃⁿˢᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁱᵛᵉᵈ ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵖᵃⁱⁿᶠᵘˡ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃᵍᵒ‧ “ᴰᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵗʳᵘˢᵗ ⁱᵗ” ᴹʸ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ʷᵃˢ ᵃ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗ ᵐᵃⁿ⸴ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐʸ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ‧ – ᶜʳᵉᵈⁱᵗˢ ᵗᵒ⠘ ᵗʰⁱⁿˢᵗⁱᶜᵏ

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

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

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.

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.

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Mᴀʀʟᴀ's ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ʜᴀs ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴡɴ ᴏғ Rɪᴠᴇʀ Fᴀʟʟs, ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ʟɪᴠᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪɢ ᴄɪᴛʏ. Oɴᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ sʜᴇ ғɪɴᴅs ᴀ sᴛʀᴀʏ ᴄᴀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴛ ɴᴀᴍɪɴɢ ɪᴛ Mɪsᴛʏ. Tʜᴇ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴅᴀʏ, Mᴀʀʟᴀ ɪs ᴘʀᴇᴘᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ᴏᴜᴛsɪᴅᴇ ʙᴜᴛ Mɪsᴛʏ ʙᴇɢɪɴs ʜɪssɪɴɢ. Mᴀʀʟᴀ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇs ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀʏ ɪɴsɪᴅᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ Mɪsᴛʏ ᴄᴀʟᴍ. Tʜᴀᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ Mᴀʀʟᴀ ɪs ᴀᴡᴏᴋᴇɴ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜᴇʀ sʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴡʜᴇɴ Mɪsᴛʏ sɪᴛs ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ғᴀᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ sᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀs. Tʜᴇ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴅᴀʏ, Mᴀʀʟᴀ ɪs ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪɢʜ ᴅɪᴠᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴇ ғᴇʟᴛ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙʀᴜsʜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʟᴇɢs. Sʜᴇ ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴛʀɪᴘs ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ᴅʀᴏᴡɴs. As ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴘᴀssᴇs, Mᴀʀʟᴀ sᴛᴀʀᴛs ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʟʏ. Sʜᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴠᴇs ᴛᴜɴᴀ ᴄᴀssᴇʀᴏʟᴇ. Aᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ, sʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀs ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀs, ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ ᴡᴀɴᴛs ᴛᴏ sᴛᴇᴀʟ ʜᴇʀ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ɪᴛ ʜᴀs ʟɪᴠᴇᴅ ɴɪɴᴇ ʟɪᴠᴇs. Tʜᴇ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ, sʜᴇ's ᴜɴᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴ ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛ sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍɪɴɢ. Lᴀᴛᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ, Mᴀʀʟᴀ ʙᴇɢɪɴs ᴀᴅᴅɪɴɢ ᴀʟʟ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛs ᴜᴘ, ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴇ ᴍᴜsᴛ ɢᴇᴛ ʀɪᴅ ᴏғ Mɪsᴛʏ. Mᴀʀʟᴀ ᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟ sʜᴇʟᴛᴇʀ, ʙᴜᴛ Mɪsᴛʏ sᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ɪᴛ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ʜᴏᴍᴇ. Mᴀʀʟᴀ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜᴛ Mɪsᴛʏ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴄᴀɢᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴏɴ ᴀ ʙᴜs ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟɪɴɢ ғᴀʀ ᴀᴡᴀʏ. Mᴀʀʟᴀ ᴘᴜᴛs Mɪsᴛʏ's ᴄᴀɢᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀsᴋᴇᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғʀᴏɴᴛ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ʙɪᴋᴇ. Wʜɪʟᴇ Mᴀʀʟᴀ sᴛᴏᴘs ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅʀɪɴᴋ, Mɪsᴛʏ ɪs ʀᴜɴ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʙʏ ᴀ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇʀ, ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴛ sᴇᴇᴍs ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴇᴅ. Mᴀʀʟᴀ ɪs ʀᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴇᴍɪɴɢʟʏ ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀsᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴅᴇᴍɪsᴇ. Hᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ Mᴀʀʟᴀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ ᴀ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ ʟɪᴠᴇs ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ...

I ʜᴀᴅ ᴀɴ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴀʀʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴀs ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ. Wᴇ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇᴅ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ғᴏʀ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ. Mʏ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴀʀʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴇᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴍʏ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ɪɴ ᴀ sᴇɴsᴇ ᴏғ sᴀᴅɴᴇss. Eᴠᴇɴᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ʏᴇᴀʀs ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ I ᴅᴜɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍʏ ᴍᴜᴍ's ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴛʀᴇᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅs ғᴏʀ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴀᴘᴇʀᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴡʜᴇɴ I sᴀᴡ ᴀ sᴛɪʟʟʙᴏʀɴ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪғɪᴄᴀᴛᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡʙᴏʀɴ ᴡʜᴏ sʜᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ. I ᴛʜᴇɴ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ I ᴡᴀs ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴀ ᴛᴡɪɴ ᴀs ᴍʏ ᴍᴜᴍ ᴇxᴘʟᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ᴅɪᴇᴅ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴏᴜʀ ʙɪʀᴛʜ.

🗝 🔦 🗝 | ⏳ 👁 ⏳ | 🗝 🔦 🗝

ᴳᵒᵗ ᵃ ˢⁿᵃᵏᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ˢᵗᵒᵐᵖᵉᵈ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉᵉˡ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵒᵒᵗ ᵘᵖᵒⁿ ⁱᵗ‧ ᴸᵃᵗᵉʳ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗ⸴ ᵃˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᶠᵘᵈᵈˡᵉᵈ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ ʳᵃᶜᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵃᵗᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴾᵃ‧ "ᔆᵒⁿ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵒʷ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ⸴ ˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᵒˡᵈ ᵇᵒᵒᵗˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ 'ᵉᵐ⸴ ᵐᵃᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᶠᵃᶜᵗ‧ ᵂᵉ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ʰⁱᵐ ʷᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ ᵂᵉˡˡ⸴ ᴵ ʳᵉᶜᵏᵒⁿ ʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ ᴴᵉʳᵉ—" ᴹᵃ⸴ ʷⁱᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵗᵉᵃʳ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰᵉʳ ˢᵉᵃᵐᵉᵈ ᵒˡᵈ ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏ⸴ ʰᵃⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃⁱʳ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵒᵒᵗˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵃˢ ᵃⁿ ʰᵉⁱʳˡᵒᵒᵐ‧ ᴴᵉ ʷᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵖʳⁱᵈᵉ‧ ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ʰᵉ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵐʸˢᵗᵉʳⁱᵒᵘˢ ˢʰᵃᵈᵉ‧ ᴰʳᵉˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ⸴ ʰⁱˢ ⁿᵉʷˡʸ ʷⁱᵈᵒʷᵉᵈ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ʰᵘᵍᵍᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˢᵒⁿ‧ "ᴮᵒʸ⸴ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵈᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵒᵗˢ ᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ᵈⁱᵈ‧ ᵀᵃᵏᵉ ᶜᵃʳᵉ‧‧‧" ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵒᵒʳ ᵇᵒʸ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵐᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ᶠᵃᵗᵉ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ʰᵉˡᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵒᵗˢ‧ ᴸᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉˡʸ⸴ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ ʰᵉʳ ᵉʸᵉ‧ ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ᶠᵃⁿᵍᵉᵈ ᵗᵒᵒᵗʰ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁿᵃᵏᵉ⸴ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵛᵉⁿᵒᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵒⁱˢᵒⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ‧ ᴸᵒᵈᵍᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵐᵇᵉᵈᵈᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵒᵗˢ‧

Wʜᴇɴ ᴍʏ sᴏɴ ᴀsᴋᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜʏ I ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ᴍʏ ᴇʏᴇs ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ, I ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sʜᴏᴡ ʜɪᴍ ᴡʜʏ. As ʜᴇ ʜᴀʀᴅᴇɴᴇᴅ, I ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛᴛᴇᴅ sʜᴏᴡɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ᴀs I ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴏɴᴇ...

ʳ/ᵀʷᵒᔆᵉⁿᵗᵉⁿᶜᵉᴴᵒʳʳᵒʳ ³ ᵈᵃʸˢ ᵃᵍᵒ ᴿᵉᶜᵒᵍⁿⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿᴵˡˡ⁷¹⁰⁷ ᴳʳᵃⁿᵈᵖᵃ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ʷᵃʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵘˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵉˡˡ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒᵒᵈˢ ᶜˡᵃⁱᵐⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ʰᵃᵘⁿᵗᵉᵈ‧ ᵂᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉˢ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵘˢ "ˡᵉᵗ ᵘˢ ᵒᵘᵗ⸴ ˡᵉᵗ ᵘˢ ᵒᵘᵗ⸴ ˡᵉᵗ ᵘˢ ᵒᵘᵗ‧‧‧"

💓●💜❤ӄɨʟʟɛʀ❤️💜●💓

t̫͍̥͉̳ͅa͙̲ke̹͇͘ ͇̦̲̤͙m̠͡y̧̗̦̪̣͖̣ ͉͍̬̘͡h͔̭ͅa̹͔̯͖̯͉͔͠n̳̭̬̬̼̞̲d͔̹̰͈

‘Seeing Red (The First Day of School)’ by Zenryhao Everyone loves the first day of school, right? New year, new classes, new friends. I like the first day of school for a different reason, though. You see, I have a sort of power. When I look at people, I can…sense a sort of aura around them. A colour outline based on how long that person has to live. Most everyone I meet around my age is surrounded by a solid green hue, which means they have plenty of time left. A fair amount of them have a yellow orange tinge to their auras, which tends to mean a disease or fire; some tragedy. Anything that takes people “before their time” as they say. The real fun is when the auras venture into the red end of the spectrum, though. Every now and again I’ll see someone who’s basically a stoplight. Those are the ones who get in a car crash, or even a victim of crime. It’s such a rush to see them and know their time is numbered. With that in mind, I always get to class very early so I can scout out my classmates’ fates. The first kid who came in was basically radiating red. I tsk tsk tsk. Huh. But as people kept walking in, they all had the same intense red glow. I finally caught a glimpse of my own fading reflection in the window, but I was too stunned to move. Our professor stepped in and locked the door, his aura a sickening shade of green...

@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.

ᴼⁿˡʸ ᵀᵃᵏᵉ ᴼⁿᵉ ᴾⁱᵉᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵃⁿᵈʸ ᴳᵒ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵒʳᵗˢᶜᵃʳʸˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ʳ/ˢʰᵒʳᵗˢᶜᵃʳʸˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᶠᵒʳᵍᵒᵗᵗᵉⁿᵂᵉˡˡ ᴼⁿˡʸ ᵀᵃᵏᵉ ᴼⁿᵉ ᴾⁱᵉᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵃⁿᵈʸ “ᴴᵒⁿᵉʸ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ’ʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ‧” “ᴵ’ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐⁱˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒⁿ ᶠʳᵉᵉ ᶜᵃⁿᵈʸ‧” ᴳʳᵃⁿᵗ ˢˡᵃᵐᵐᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃʳᵃᵍᵉ‧ ᴵᵗ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵐᵃᵗᵗᵉʳ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵗᵒᵒ ᵒˡᵈ⸴ ʰᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ᵃ ᵇʳⁱˡˡⁱᵃⁿᵗ ⁱᵈᵉᵃ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵇⁱᵏᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵒᶠᶠ‧ ᴮˡᵒᶜᵏ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵇˡᵒᶜᵏ⸴ ʰᵉ ˢᶜᵃⁿⁿᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵒʳᶜʰᵉˢ‧ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ʲᵃᶜᵏᵖᵒᵗ‧ ᴬ ᵖᵒʳᶜʰ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᵍⁱᵍᵃⁿᵗⁱᶜ ᵇᵒʷˡ ᶠᵘˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵃⁿᵈʸ‧ ᴬ ˢⁱᵍⁿᵉᵈ ʷᵃʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ˢⁱⁿᵍˡᵉ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵃⁿᵈʸ‧ ᴳʳᵃⁿᵗ ᵈᵘᵐᵖᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵗⁱʳᵉ ᵇᵒʷˡ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵖⁱˡˡᵒʷᶜᵃˢᵉ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ˢᵗᵒᵐᵃᶜʰ ʳᵘᵐᵇˡᵉᵈ‧ ᴬˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇⁱᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵃᵈ ʷᵒʳᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ʰⁱˢ ᵃᵖᵖᵉᵗⁱᵗᵉ‧ ᴳʳᵃⁿᵗ ᵖᵘˡˡᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃ ᴮᵃᵇʸ ᴿᵘᵗʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜʰᵒʷᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵗᵒˢˢᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʳᵃᵖᵖᵉʳ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵒʳᶜʰ‧ ᵀʰⁱˢ ʷᵃˢ ⁿᵒ ᵒʳᵈⁱⁿᵃʳʸ ᶜᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵇᵃʳ‧ ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ’ᵈ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵉᵃᵗᵉⁿ! ᴴᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ! ᴬ ᴹⁱˡᵏʸ ᵂᵃʸ‧ ᵀʰᵉⁿ ᵃ ᴷⁱᵗ ᴷᵃᵗ‧ ᔆᵒ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ! ᵀʰᵉ ᵇᵃʳˢ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵘˡˡ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵘⁿᵍᵉʳ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴾⁱᵉᶜᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉ⸴ ᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃˢᵗ! ᴴᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ’ᵗ ˢᵗᵒᵖ‧ ᴴᵉ ʳᵉᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵖⁱˡˡᵒʷᶜᵃˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵉᵐᵖᵗʸ‧ ᔆᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ⸴ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵗᵒᵐᵃᶜʰ ᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵘʳⁿᵗ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵏⁿᵉˡᵗ ᵒᵛᵉʳ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵃᵍᵒⁿⁱᶻⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵉⁿˢᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵘᵖ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵖⁱⁿᵉ⸴ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧ ᴱᵃᶜʰ ᶠⁱⁿᵍᵉʳ ʰᵃᵈ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵖˡᵃᶜᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᶜʰᵒᶜᵒˡᵃᵗᵉ ᵇᵃʳ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵒᵛᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵍᵉʳˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍʳᵃᵇ ʰⁱˢ ʷʳⁱˢᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃˢ ᶜᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵇᵃʳˢ ᵃˢ ʷᵉˡˡ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐˢ ʷᵉʳᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵉᵍˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶜᵒˡˡᵃᵖˢᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃ ᵗʰᵒᵘˢᵃⁿᵈ ᶜʰᵒᶜᵒˡᵃᵗᵉ ᵇᵃʳˢ ᶜᵒˡˡⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᶜᵃᵗᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᵀʷᵒ ᵏⁱᵈˢ ʷᵃˡᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ‧ “ᵂʰᵒᵃ! ᶠᵘˡˡ ˢⁱᶻᵉ ᵇᵃʳˢ?” “ᴵˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵃˢᵗ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳ?” “ᵂʰʸ?” “ᴵ’ᵐ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵒⁿᵉ‧‧‧”