Neonaticides Emojis & Text

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.

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

r/TwoSentenceHorror 3 hr. ago jdyerjdyer ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↓ˢᶜʳᵒˡˡ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ↓ Everyone thinks the new baby is so precious that they completely forgot I exist. Big brother is about to be an only child, again.

Morbid History: The Brazen Bull I like learning about old school instruments of torture. Water-boarding is just so boring and passe! Who needs it when you have the brazen bull! The brazen bull was a unique and quite devilish in what it accomplished; slowly roasting people alive. It was invented by a metal worker from Athens called Perillos, in order to introduce a new form of torture for Phalaris, a tyrant of Sicily, to inflict on criminals. The entire thing was made of bronze in the life-size shape, of you guessed it, a bull. It had a door on its side to allow the victim access, and it had a series of tube that lead to its mouth that would allow the screams of the guilty to sound like that of a bull. A fire would be lit underneath it and all that would be left was a pile of bones and ash. Of course Perillos bragged about the sound the bull would emit, so curious as to whether it would indeed work Phalaris ordered him to become the first victim. Guess what happened next? Go on I’ll give you a few moments. It worked as described! The ancient Romans also thought it was kind of neat so they used it against Christians, Jews and anybody else who really pissed them off. It is believed that the design of the brazen bull started out in Carthage. The people would sacrifice babies to their god named Moloch by placing them within a small cow headed bronze statue of the god and sliding them down into bronze furnace. The screams of the dying babies didn’t sound anything like a bull, but you can’t have everything! by GOTHMUSINGS on JULY 15, 2014 • Posted in MORBID HISTORY

As my spirit left my body I could see all my children cradled in the arms of God ✨ I should ask for their forgiveness for aborting them.

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

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

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

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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.

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.

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

‘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...

༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻ LOVING MEMORY ༺✿ڰۣڿ✿༻

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..

Everybody loves a fat baby. By Reddit user Purple_Mittens Everybody loves a fat baby. You can't help but pinch their cheeks, tickle their tummies, and grab a toe to play "this little piggy". They give the most contagious jolly smiles that brighten anyone's day. My baby is skinny. I've tried to fatten him up but he fights me every step of the way, refusing to drink his new formula and seemingly metabolizing things faster than I can microwave a bottle. Nobody wants to pinch my skinny baby and play peekaboo. People walk right by and act like he doesn't exist. Sometimes I feel like he doesn't gain weight on purpose, just to rob me of my gleaming years of motherhood. I know that's crazy, and then I feel guilty and cry because all I want is for my baby to be healthy. My husband says I have post-partum depression. But he's even worse. He locks himself in the bedroom and never comes anywhere with me and the baby. He looks at me differently, and I worry that he no longer finds my body attractive. Yesterday at the grocery store, someone called the police because they think I'm starving my baby. I keep telling the investigators that I'm doing everything I can to fatten him up but they won't listen. T hat's why I'm writing this statement for my lawyer. When he gets me out of here and gets me my baby back, I want to sue this department for slander. Not only do they say I don't deserve my baby, they call me "pathetic" and "mentally ill". What hurts me even more are the names they call my baby-"rotting" and "stillborn".

I Begged You “Please, I am literally begging you,” I warn, but the executioner only sighs and gives me a truly sorrowful look... The chaplain sits beside me. “Once he pushes the button, death will come soon after,” he explains, even though I have heard it so many times before already. “Any final words?” “Just, again, I tell you, begging you not to do this,” I say. clean conscience. That’s the thing, though; I haven’t murdered anyone. It’s been this way my The chaplain nods sadly, sorrowful that I do not face my executioner with a clean conscience. That’s the thing, though. I haven’t murdered anyone. It’s been this way my entire life. I don’t know why, but whenever I would accidentally hurt myself others near me would receive the wound. I once got a paper cut in class that caused the three people around me to bleed from their fingers. In high school, I was in a car accident, and even though my side of the car was hit, my girlfriend developed a broken leg. I’m always very careful. I take care of myself, trying to stay in the very best of health. But when I was mugged by that trio and he shot me in the face, theirs exploded, not mine. And when the cops came, they found me kneeling by their bodies, trying to figure out what to do and stupidly holding their gun. Around thirty seconds after the execution started, I see both the executioner and chaplain fall to the floor with a hard thump. “I begged you,” I repeat sadly. —stellarpath

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

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...

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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."

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

https://www.ewtn.com/catholicism/library/truth-about-becky-bell-12000

🇺🇸 https://s1.sos.mo.gov/records/archives/archivesdb/BirthDeath/Default.aspx#searchDB 🇺🇸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

👩‍⚖️🤰⏏️✅

The End From Redditor u/MrCookieCutter: For the first time in recorded history, no humans died today. Granted, that's because the last one died yesterday.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 5 yr. ago LifeIsContrast I ̼ͨͪj̱͉umpé̞d̊̐ fro̞̜m̲̐ the ed̰ͫ̀ġͪe̩͐ and̝͍ͭ ͉̾̈́pl͖͓̂u͇ͩ̋n̏̔g̯ed͓͎ͦ͂ t̹̅̀o̹͇w̆ards thͤe d͎͛ͤe̬̰p͔̂t̻h̟̓ͫs̘̩͊̑.͓̰.̰ͭ͐.̑.̭ p͔̻̥̮̒͒l̗͙̦̩̪̪͙̯͐̂̚ĕ̻̝̳̣͈͖̞̎̿̊͊͋̈́͒̑a͚̣̹ͮ̌͆̇̾s̠̘̰͙̰̐͑̋e͇̰̳͓̥̊̂͌͐̍͑̂,͚̘̜̉ͯ̒ͤͬ ̖̭̲̟̥͍̹͎ͧ͒ͯ͒ͨ͗̉F̭͎̌̇͑ͣḬ̑̃ͥͥͧN̗̰̎̓͗D͓̠͎̂̿ͨ́̉͐ ̘̤̤̠̘̺̼͖̩̓̆͒̔ͭ̆ͯ̚M̲̫̙͙̏ͦ̀̑E̺̗͈̣̹ͯ́̚ ̬̤͎̪͔̤̤̯ͧ͌ͭ̌̿ͩA͎̗͉͕̯̲̤͓͒̌ͪN̫̥͎ͯ̈̎͌͊͒D̠̬̮͆ ̬͇̫̠ͩ͒K̞͕̙̮̫͇͎͉ͤ̈́̿͒ͧ̽̐ͤͅI͉̒͗ͥL͍̤͚͖͚̆ͯ̎̽̑L͓̣͎̗̾ͯ̈́̚ ̣͎̱̪̝͉̈́ͣ̂̓̆̂̋ͤͫM̙̙̼ͩ͗͋ͣͫE̮̔̌͑̊!̳̖͉̺̾ͅͅ

r/TwoSentenceHorror 56 min. ago Zcissors I have a plan, and if im wrong, I could kill thousands If im right... millions

https://www.reddit.com/r/BabyNameLab/comments/vvdp14/my_partner_is_pregnant_on_our_first_child_and_we/

My Sister's Sculpture My Mother told me about it when I was around 6 years old. She told me I wasn't an only child, I was one of two little girls. You see, she told me that when I was first born along with my twin sister, she died the evening she was born. She never told me why or how she died.or when they had the funeral for her. She told me about my Father going into a deep sense of mourning, and so to let us never forget my little sister my Father made a sculpture ofher. She was painted to every last detail. Her cute blue eyes to the little dimples in her cheeks. My Father would copy me as a reference since we were twins, and as I grew up I thought the sculpture was of me, but now that my Mother cleared this all up I felt more close to the sculpture than I did before. It wasn't long until I noticed that every year; on my birthday my Father would replace the sculpture and now the sculpture looked the same age as me, as if the sculpture would follow me as l aged. My Father continued to do this well into my teenage years, capturing her older and more mature features and the change in her face. On my 18th birthday I realised I could not sleep. I was wondering how my Father made the sculpture so detailed to me so late into the night. Perhaps he took a photo of me and paints it in every detail? I was curious. So I desided to creep my way downstairs to see if could catch my Father making the sculpture, and as l peeked my head around the kitchen door I felt all the colour of my face drain. There, on the Kitchen table my Father was injecting the “sculpture” with a liquid as he whispered "You will always be my little sculpture." as I watched the “sculpture's” hands twitch.

When one of my friends was born, the doctors told her parents she wouldn't live past a week. Then, they said that she would live, but she wouldn't be able to walk. Yesterday, at 17, we were walking through the mall together. She helped somebody in a wheelchair, saying "That could be me" She GMH Mar 22, 2011 at 7:00am by Emma G, Dallas

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

r/TwoSentenceHorror 1 yr. ago normancrane I learnt my mum and dad were both proudly pro-choice parents. That's why, as I fatally strangled them with my umbilical cord, they must have respect my choice to not have parents.

AGES 2020 Update 2012 old 2018 former rec. Under 25 No screening Pap test every 3 years Pap test every 3 years Age 25‒29 HPV test every 5 years (preferred) , HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years (acceptable) or Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years Pap test every 3 years Age 30‒65 HPV test every 5 years (preferred) or HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) or HPV/Pap cotest every 3 years (preferred) or Pap test every 3 years (acceptable) Pap test every 3 years, HPV test every 5 years, or HPV/Pap cotest every 5 years Over 65 + No screening if a series of prior tests were normal No screening if a series of prior tests were normal No screening if a series of prior tests were normal and not at high risk for cancer

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

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

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

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Jessica by reddit user Breakevencoast5 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ↓ˢᶜʳᵒˡˡ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ↓ My soul mate left me today. All that's left of him now, is pairs of sock that probably fell out of his suitcase, and a note labelled "Read Me" that I found on the kitchen counter, picked it up and started to read. “just can't take it anymore. Jess, you know love you, and I always will, but over the last few months things have gotten bad for me. Yes, it's her. She's following me again and I'm scared that if she found you she'd kill you. I'm sorry, I wish I could go into more detail, but you be home in a few minutes, and I don't want to have to tell you any of this to your face. It would destroy me to see you cry. - David.” Suddenly the front door creaked open. Instinctively, grabbed a knife off of the knife rack and ran into the pantry. "Hello?" Called a woman from the entrance way. I didn't answer. Instead, I cracked the pantry door open just enough to see the note on the counter. "Anyone in here?" She yelled, walking closer to the kitchen. "I'm not going to hurt you." She stepped into the kitchen. There was a small Swiss army knife in her hand. She picked up the note and started to read. Within seconds she started crying hysterically. The woman fell to her knees and dropped the knife. lignored every logical though in my brain, kicked the door open and thrust the knife into her stomach. "Welcome home Jessica" I said, twisting the knife with a bright smile on my face.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 1 min. ago AcrobaticTransition4 “My lower back hurt” I told the chiropractor Then I heard a snap and then all the pain has been permanently alleviated as i bent slumped over feeling nothing...

r/TwoSentenceHorror 13 hr. ago drforged ↓ “Have you ever seen a monster?” My son asked, as I tucked him in “No” I answered, as I looked into his many yellow eyes...

r/TwoSentenceHorror 9 mo. ago Jellycaine The aliens invaded planet earth, and the human never seems to notice. A thousand years later and they already think shadows are a natural occurrence.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 min. ago derf_vader The crack in the wall was only wide enough for a shadow to pass through. I didn't know once it went in I would be stuck here in the wall along with it, unable to leave, and unable to cry out and warn others.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 40 min. ago derf_vader "Hello Darkness my old friend..." I sang the familiar lyrics as I passed by the dark alley. "I've come to greet you at the end," the Darkness sang back softly creeping, as it enveloped me in the sounds of silence...

ʳ/ᵗʰʳᵉᵉˢᵉⁿᵗᵉⁿᶜᵉʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ ᵐʸᵈᵃᵈˢⁿᵃᵐᵉⁱˢʰᵃʳᵒˡᵈ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵉⁱᵍʰᵇᵒᵘʳˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿ ᵉᵃˢᵗᵉʳ ᵉᵍᵍ ʰᵘⁿᵗ⸴ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᴵ ᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ‧ ᴵ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ᵏⁱᵈˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖˡᵃˢᵗⁱᶜ ᵉᵍᵍˢ ᴵ ʰⁱᵈ ˡᵃˢᵗ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ ᴵ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ ʷⁱᵈᵒʷ ˢᵖⁱᵈᵉʳˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵍʳʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵍᵍˢ ᵍᵉᵗ ᶜʳᵃᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧‧‧

💊⏏️🥚➡️🗑️✅

⠛⠛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⢶⣦⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠙⠻⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠻⣿⣿⣇⠀ ⠀⠀⢤⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⢸⣷⡄⠀⣁⣀⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣆ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠏⠀⠀⠀⣿⣧⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠿⠇⢀⣼⣿⣿⠛⢯⡿⡟ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠦⠴⢿⢿⣿⡿⠷⠀⣿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣷⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣦⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁

⡡⢣⠘⡰⢈⡒⢌⠒⡌⠴⣈⠒⡌⠒⡌⠴⣈⠒⡌⠒⡌⠴⣈⠒⡌⠒⡌⠴⡈⢆⡑⢢⢁⣲⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣦⣅⡒⡌⠰⣁⠒⣰⣦⣶⣶⣶⣶⣴⣂⠜⡰⢈⠆ ⡑⢢⠡⣑⠢⠜⡠⢃⠜⡰⢠⢃⠬⡑⢌⠒⡄⢣⠌⡱⢈⡒⢄⠣⢌⡱⢈⢆⡑⠢⠜⡠⢃⣿⣿⡿⢁⠆⠭⣙⢛⡛⢿⣿⣷⣷⣤⣿⠟⡋⠔⣂⠒⡌⡙⢻⣿⣆⠥⢊ ⡅⢣⠒⡄⡓⢌⡱⢌⢊⠴⡁⢎⡰⢡⢊⠱⡘⠤⢊⢅⠣⡘⠌⢆⠣⡰⢉⠆⠬⡑⢊⡑⣾⣿⣿⢃⠎⣘⠒⡰⢂⡜⢠⢂⢍⣿⠏⡡⢊⠔⡡⢢⠱⢠⡑⢢⠹⣿⣎⠆ ⡜⢢⠑⡰⢉⠆⡔⢊⡔⢢⢉⠆⠴⡁⢎⠱⠨⠜⡡⢊⠴⣁⠫⢄⠓⠤⢃⠎⡱⢈⠥⣼⣿⣿⡏⠆⡜⡠⠍⡔⡡⠜⡰⢈⣾⣷⢈⠔⡡⢊⡔⢡⠊⠥⡘⣰⣿⣹⣿⢈ ⡜⢠⠃⡜⢂⢎⡘⠔⣨⠒⡌⠜⢢⢉⠆⣩⠑⣊⠱⣈⠒⠤⢃⠎⡌⠓⡌⡜⢠⢃⢼⣿⣿⣿⠣⡘⠤⡑⣊⠔⣡⠚⡄⢃⢿⣿⣇⢊⠔⡡⠘⠤⡉⢆⣡⣻⡿⣿⣿⠂ ⡌⡅⢎⠰⡉⢆⠸⡘⢄⠣⡘⠬⣁⠎⡘⡄⢣⡘⠤⡑⢊⡑⡊⠴⡉⢜⠰⢌⠒⡌⣾⣿⣿⡏⡔⢡⢃⢒⠡⣊⢄⠣⠜⡨⢘⢿⣿⣧⡊⠴⣭⣶⣷⡿⣟⣿⣿⣿⠏⡌ ⡒⢌⠢⡑⠜⣈⠦⡑⢊⠴⣁⠣⠢⠜⣡⠘⡔⢨⠒⣉⠆⣡⠑⡆⣉⠦⡉⢆⠱⣸⣿⣿⣿⢃⠜⢢⠘⡌⡱⢠⢊⠜⢢⠡⢃⡌⢛⢿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣾⣽⣿⣿⠟⡡⢊⠔ ⡑⡊⡔⢩⡘⠤⢒⢡⡉⡒⠤⢃⡍⠲⣀⠧⠨⢅⠚⡄⠚⡄⢣⢐⠂⢆⠱⣈⢆⡙⣿⣿⡿⡈⠜⡠⢃⡔⢡⠢⢡⠚⠤⡙⠤⡘⢢⠘⡌⢛⡛⢟⡛⠛⠭⡐⠬⡐⠣⢌ ⣃⠣⡐⢄⡰⢠⠚⡄⢠⠃⠆⡜⢠⠢⡀⠔⢢⠘⠤⣐⣢⣴⣤⣾⣶⣾⡶⠿⠾⠷⠿⠿⢷⣷⣶⣷⣤⣴⣦⣴⣂⣔⠄⢣⡐⢠⠂⡔⠰⢠⠐⡄⡐⡒⢄⠣⢄⠓⡰⢀ ⢆⡱⢈⠆⡔⢡⣊⣴⣡⣎⣵⣌⣆⡱⣈⣮⣴⡿⠾⠛⡍⡩⢉⠔⡠⢂⠔⡉⢆⠩⢌⡑⢢⠐⡄⠢⢌⠩⡉⢍⡙⡛⠿⣷⣾⣤⣷⠾⠷⠿⠿⠷⣶⣷⣬⣖⠉⢆⠱⣈ ⢆⢂⢣⣸⣴⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⡿⢛⠋⡅⢢⠑⣡⠒⡡⢊⠴⡁⢎⠢⡉⢆⢃⡒⢌⠂⢇⡸⢁⠎⡔⠡⢆⢢⢁⡃⢆⡉⢛⠻⣿⣬⣱⢈⠱⢠⢉⠛⣻⣿⣮⡔⢂ ⢌⢢⣾⣿⠟⢋⠡⢂⡱⣸⠾⡛⢡⠘⡄⢣⠘⡤⠩⢄⠣⠔⡃⢆⠱⡈⢆⠱⡈⢆⡘⢄⠋⡔⠤⢃⠜⡠⢋⠔⢢⠡⠜⡠⠜⣠⠃⡔⡙⢻⣷⣕⠢⢌⠒⠤⡙⢿⣿⡆ ⣸⣿⢟⠡⢊⠔⡡⢣⡞⢅⠣⡘⢄⢣⠘⠤⢣⠐⠣⢌⠒⡡⠜⡠⢃⠜⡠⢃⠜⡠⠎⡌⠜⡠⢃⠎⡰⣁⠎⡸⢄⠃⢎⠱⡘⢄⠣⠔⡡⢆⡘⢻⣿⣤⢉⠆⡱⢈⣿⣿ ⣿⡿⣈⠱⡈⠦⢡⠛⡰⢈⠆⣑⠊⠤⡉⢆⣡⢊⡱⢈⡌⠱⣈⠱⡈⢆⠱⢌⠢⡑⠬⡐⢣⠑⡌⢢⡑⢄⢊⠔⣨⣘⣢⠑⡌⢢⢉⠒⡡⢆⡘⢄⠚⣿⣧⢊⢔⣥⣾⣿ ⣿⡇⢆⠱⣈⠑⢆⡱⢂⡱⢊⠤⡉⢆⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣬⠑⡄⢣⠘⡄⠣⢌⠒⣡⠒⡡⢆⠣⢌⡡⠘⡄⣊⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⠊⡜⡐⢢⠑⡌⠒⡌⢿⣯⣿⣿⣺⣿ ⣿⡇⢎⣰⢆⡉⠆⡔⢡⢂⠥⢂⡱⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠘⡄⠣⢌⠱⡨⠘⡄⠣⢔⡈⠖⣨⠐⡅⢲⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢆⠱⡈⡜⢨⡑⢌⡘⣿⣿⡞⣿⣿ ⢹⣿⡄⣿⠤⡘⢰⠘⡄⢎⠰⢃⠔⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢃⠌⣑⠊⡔⢡⢃⠬⡑⢢⠘⡔⢢⠑⡌⣹⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⡿⣿⡏⢄⠣⡘⢄⠣⡘⢄⠒⣸⣿⢭⣿⠏ ⢌⠻⣿⡯⢐⢡⠊⠴⡈⢆⢃⠎⡰⢙⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣷⣿⠏⡌⠒⡌⢢⠑⡢⢌⠢⡑⢢⠑⡌⢢⠱⡐⢌⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢃⢌⠢⡑⢌⠢⣑⠊⡜⢰⣿⡏⡅⢊ ⡌⢢⢹⡇⠎⠤⡙⠤⡑⢌⠢⠚⡄⢣⠘⡛⠿⠿⠿⢛⡉⠒⡌⢱⠈⡆⣑⠒⡌⠢⢅⠣⡘⢄⡃⠖⡡⢊⠔⡛⠿⠿⠿⠿⢋⠱⡈⢆⠱⡈⢆⠱⡠⢃⠜⡰⣿⡗⡨⢡ ⡜⢠⢻⣿⠈⢆⡑⢢⠉⢆⡑⢣⠘⣄⠣⡘⢄⠣⡘⠤⡘⢡⠜⢢⠑⡰⢂⡱⢈⡱⢈⠆⣑⠢⣘⠰⣁⠣⡘⢄⠣⡘⢄⠣⡘⠤⡑⢌⠢⡑⠌⢆⡱⢈⠆⣱⣿⡧⡑⢂ ⡜⢠⠚⣿⣏⠰⡈⢆⢩⠂⡜⢠⠣⢄⠣⡑⢊⠴⣁⠒⡉⢆⡘⢢⢉⠴⡁⢆⠱⢠⠃⡜⢠⢃⠤⢃⠆⣡⠱⡈⢆⠱⣈⠒⣡⠚⡄⢣⠘⡌⠜⢢⡐⢡⢊⣼⣿⠇⣌⠡ ⡜⢢⢁⠻⣿⣷⡁⠎⠤⣉⠴⡁⠎⠤⢃⠬⢡⠒⠤⠹⣖⣴⣈⠆⡌⢢⠑⡌⢊⠴⡑⢌⠒⡌⢢⠡⢊⢔⣢⣿⢃⠒⠤⣉⠔⢢⠘⡄⢣⡘⢌⡡⠘⣄⣾⣿⠟⡰⢠⠃ ⡜⢄⠪⠔⡹⣿⣿⣮⠰⢄⠢⡑⢊⡱⢈⠆⠣⠜⢢⠑⠬⢻⣿⣿⣶⣧⣜⣠⢃⠒⡌⢢⣑⣌⣦⣵⣾⠿⢋⠔⡨⠘⡔⢢⠘⢢⡑⠬⢡⠘⡄⢂⢇⣾⣿⢋⠆⣑⠢⣉ ⡜⢠⠃⢎⠰⢌⢻⣿⣷⣮⡐⡡⢃⠔⢣⠘⡡⢍⢢⢉⠆⡡⢂⠜⡙⡛⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⢛⢛⠫⡁⢆⡘⠤⢊⡔⢩⠰⡁⢎⢡⠘⡄⢣⠘⣄⣷⣿⠟⡡⢊⠴⡁⢖⠠ ⡈⡁⡌⠸⢄⡈⢄⠸⢿⣿⣿⣄⣇⠸⡀⢇⠡⡈⠄⡌⡈⢡⡈⢄⠡⡈⢄⠉⡈⣁⠉⡄⣁⠌⡠⢁⠤⡈⠤⢁⠸⡀⢇⠸⡀⠌⣠⠸⣀⣿⣿⡿⢁⠌⡠⢁⡄⠡⠌⡠ ⠥⡑⢌⠱⣈⠲⣈⠦⢡⠙⡻⢿⣿⣿⣶⣌⣢⠑⠬⡐⢡⠒⡌⢢⠑⠬⡘⢌⠱⣀⠣⠔⠢⠜⡰⢡⠒⡡⢃⠍⢢⠑⡌⢢⣁⣧⣶⣿⡿⢛⠅⣊⠔⣊⠑⡆⢌⠣⣑⠢ ⠣⠜⡠⢃⠆⡱⢄⠚⡄⡓⢄⠣⡘⣙⠻⢿⢿⣿⣷⣷⣦⣵⣈⣆⡉⢆⠱⣈⠒⡄⢃⠎⡱⢈⡔⢡⢊⣔⣡⣮⣶⣷⣿⣿⠿⢟⠛⡡⠜⢢⢉⠴⡘⢄⠣⠜⣈⠖⡠⢃ ⣃⠣⡑⠬⣘⠰⢌⡑⢢⢉⠆⠥⡑⢄⣳⣾⣿⠯⢹⡟⡛⠻⠿⠿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⢿⣿⣦⣉⠆⡱⠌⡜⠢⢌⢢⠑⣊⠜⡌⠴⣈⠱⣈ ⢆⡱⢈⠖⣠⠃⢎⠰⡡⢊⠜⡠⢃⣾⣿⡿⢉⠆⡹⠕⡨⠑⡌⠒⡄⢆⠢⡐⠿⠟⣿⢻⢯⡿⣽⣯⣿⣽⣿⡘⣿⣇⠻⣿⣿⣎⠔⡡⢌⡑⣊⠤⢋⠔⡌⢢⡑⢢⠱⢠ ⠆⢆⠣⡘⠤⣉⠆⣃⢒⠡⡊⢴⣿⣿⢏⠰⡁⢎⠰⣁⠲⡉⠴⡉⢔⠊⡴⢁⠎⡔⠢⢌⠢⡐⢅⠢⣉⠙⣻⡇⢽⣿⡕⡨⣿⣿⡎⡔⢢⠑⡤⢚⡐⡊⠴⢡⡘⠤⠓⠤ ⡍⢢⠑⡸⢐⠢⠜⡰⣈⠱⢨⣾⣿⠏⡄⢣⢘⡤⢃⠤⢃⠜⠤⡑⢊⠜⡠⢃⠜⣠⠙⡄⠣⠜⢢⠑⡤⢃⠌⡓⠤⣿⣧⠑⡸⣿⣿⡰⢁⢎⠰⡁⠦⣉⢒⡡⠜⡰⢉⠒ ⡌⣅⢊⠱⣈⠱⢊⠱⣀⠣⣽⣿⢏⠰⡈⢆⣺⠡⢊⠔⡡⢊⠆⡅⢣⠘⡄⢣⠘⡄⠣⢌⡑⠪⢄⠓⠤⡉⠦⡑⠢⢼⣿⢡⠒⣹⣿⡇⠎⣄⠣⡑⢆⡡⠒⠤⠓⡌⡱⢈ ⡒⠤⢊⠔⣡⠊⣅⠣⢄⠣⣿⣿⠌⢢⠱⣲⡇⡱⢈⠆⡱⢈⡒⢌⠢⡑⢌⠢⡑⢌⡑⠢⢌⠱⡈⠎⡔⡑⠢⢅⠃⢞⣿⢆⠱⣈⣿⣿⠐⢢⡑⢌⡒⢰⠉⢎⠱⣐⢡⠊ ⡑⡊⢅⠪⢄⠣⡄⢣⠊⡔⣿⣿⠘⡄⢓⣸⡇⠰⣁⠚⡄⢣⠘⡄⢣⠘⠤⠓⡌⢢⠌⡱⢈⠆⡅⡃⢆⠱⡉⢆⠩⣘⣿⠎⡰⠄⣿⣿⢈⠥⡘⢄⠎⣡⠚⡌⢒⠌⡢⢑ ⠥⡑⢊⠔⢣⡘⠰⣁⢃⡒⣿⣷⢡⠘⠢⢼⡇⠣⢄⠣⡘⢄⠣⡘⠤⣉⠒⠥⡘⢄⠚⡄⢣⠘⠤⡑⢌⠢⢱⢈⠒⢬⣿⠃⠴⡁⣾⣿⠠⢒⠡⢎⠰⡁⢎⠰⡉⢆⡱⢈ ⢣⢘⠡⢊⠆⡜⢡⠜⡠⢆⢹⣿⡢⢉⡑⢺⣏⠱⡈⢆⠱⡈⢆⠱⠌⡤⢉⠆⡱⡈⠖⣈⠆⣩⠂⡕⡨⠜⠢⢌⠊⣴⣿⠉⢆⠡⣿⡿⡐⣉⠲⣈⠱⡘⢌⠱⣈⠖⡠⢃ ⠣⢌⠒⣉⠒⣌⠒⡘⡔⠨⡌⢿⣷⡡⢌⠩⣷⢂⠱⡈⢆⠱⡈⢆⠣⡐⢣⠘⠤⡑⡘⡄⠎⡄⢣⠰⡁⢎⠱⣈⠒⣼⡟⢌⠢⣩⣿⢃⢆⡑⢢⢡⠚⠤⣉⠒⡔⡨⢑⠌ ⡃⢎⡘⠤⣉⠤⣉⠒⠬⡑⢌⢂⠻⣷⣮⣴⣿⡌⢆⠱⡈⢆⠱⡈⢆⠱⢂⠍⡢⢑⠢⠜⡰⢁⠦⡑⢌⡂⠇⡄⢣⣿⣧⣮⣴⡿⢃⠎⡰⢨⠡⢆⡉⠖⡨⡑⡰⢁⢣⠘ ⡑⠦⡘⡐⢆⠱⡠⢋⡔⡉⢆⡊⢱⠈⡍⢩⢹⣿⢀⠣⡘⠤⢃⠱⡈⠦⡉⢆⠱⡈⢆⠓⡄⡃⢆⡑⠢⠜⡰⢈⣭⣿⠩⠩⢍⢂⠣⡌⣑⠢⣑⠢⣉⢒⢡⠒⣡⠉⡆⢩ ⡑⢆⠱⢨⡘⡰⢡⠒⢤⠉⡆⠜⡡⠚⣌⠢⠌⣿⣆⠱⣈⠒⡉⢆⡑⢢⠑⡌⢢⠑⡌⢒⠌⠴⠡⢌⠓⡌⠰⣡⣿⣷⠡⢍⢂⠎⡱⢐⠢⣑⠢⡑⠔⡊⠤⠓⡄⡓⢌⠢ ⠑⠊⠴⠁⠦⠑⢢⠉⠆⢣⠘⠌⠡⠣⠄⠣⠉⢿⣿⡇⠤⠉⠒⡌⠴⠁⠎⠰⠁⠎⠰⠉⡜⠰⠉⠆⠱⠈⠑⣾⣿⠏⠘⠤⠉⠆⠑⠊⠱⢠⠃⠜⢡⠊⡅⠓⡌⠔⢣⠘ ⣃⠣⢄⠣⡄⢣⠊⡜⣐⢊⠱⢨⢡⠒⣌⠢⣉⠼⣿⣷⠠⡉⢆⠱⣀⠣⢌⠡⠚⡄⠣⢌⡑⢢⠑⡌⢢⢉⣼⣿⣿⠌⡱⢠⠓⡌⡱⢉⢆⢊⠜⠤⡉⢆⠍⣢⠑⡒⢌⠒ ⢆⠱⢊⠔⠬⣁⠞⡰⢠⡉⢆⢃⠦⡑⠤⢃⡔⢂⢿⣿⡆⠱⡈⢶⣶⣥⣊⢌⠱⣈⠑⣢⣘⣤⠿⢒⠡⣲⣿⣿⠃⡜⢠⢃⡜⢠⡑⢊⡔⢊⠜⢢⢉⠆⡚⢄⠣⠜⣨⠘ ⢎⠢⢅⠚⣐⠢⡘⢄⠣⡘⣐⠊⡔⢡⠊⠥⡘⢄⣺⣿⡧⢃⠜⡠⣾⢿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣟⠫⣉⠤⢃⠎⡰⣿⣿⣇⠜⡠⢃⠦⡘⡰⢨⢡⠘⡌⠜⢢⠡⠚⣄⠣⢊⡱⣀⠣ ⡊⡔⢊⢼⣤⣳⣧⣎⣔⣡⣂⣣⣜⣢⣭⣦⣵⣾⡿⢋⠴⡁⢎⠰⢸⣿⣾⡧⣿⣿⡇⡒⢄⠪⠔⡌⠰⡉⢿⣿⣧⢒⠡⢢⠑⢢⠑⢢⡉⠴⡉⢆⡱⢉⠤⢃⡱⠰⢠⢃ ⠱⡈⣜⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⠃⢆⠱⡈⠦⡑⢌⠹⣛⣿⣿⣇⡜⢠⢃⠚⡌⠱⡈⢆⢹⣿⣇⣣⣥⣊⣅⣪⠡⡘⠤⠓⡌⣐⠣⡘⢢⢁⠧⢡⢂ ⢣⠑⡌⢩⠑⣂⠒⡄⡒⢄⡒⡐⢢⠉⣍⣩⣽⣿⣮⣘⣄⢣⡘⣤⣑⣼⣾⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣦⣬⣒⣌⣱⣈⣦⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⢛⠩⡑⢢⢑⠬⡑⢌⠤⢃⠥⢃⡌⢆⠃⢆ ⠣⠜⡠⢃⠚⡄⢣⢘⠰⡈⣔⣥⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⡟⢛⢋⣭⣿⣿⡿⠿⢟⣛⣛⣯⣭⣴⣾⣷⣾⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⢇⡘⡰⢊⠌⢆⠣⡘⡄⢋⠤ ⣃⢣⠑⡌⠱⡈⠥⢊⠔⡙⡛⠭⠩⠍⡍⢡⢃⠒⣐⠢⠌⠥⡙⢌⠱⢌⠒⣬⣾⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠟⣛⠛⡛⡩⣽⣿⣿⣿⣵⣦⡽⠾⠼⡖⢡⠒⡡⠚⡌⢒⠡⠜⡡⠒

r/TwoSentenceHorror 12 hr. ago HoardofAngryQuokkas It's happening again - I must wash away all this blood; silently, I creep out to the kitchen like I've been doing for the past three years, spending hours in the moonlight scrubbing out every speck of evidence. I know my dad and brothers think I'm some late bloomer, but I just don't want to freeze to death out in the menstrual hut like mum did.

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

“So if you really are responsible for those unsolved kidnappings,” started the skeptical amateur reporter, “how do you lure your victims?” “With an interview.” by MintClicker

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

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.

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 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?”

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.

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

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.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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..."

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

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

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."

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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."

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

⚾ Go to TwoSentenceHorror 7 yr. ago LapizVGC I was wondering why the baseball kept getting bigger. Then it hit me.

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

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

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

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