Obsessivecore Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste Obsessivecore Emojis & Symbols My family Story by Pansyk I died

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 wi҉fĂ© was in labour, and lost control of the car and I lost my lÄŻfe. 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 wi҉fĂ© 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 bÄŸood. 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.

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r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 yr. ago Gallantmirth I watched the monster's jagged claws inch slowly out from under the bed. "I won't let him in again, I promise" it assured me as my dad crept to the room.
“Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad." "How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice. "You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here.” —Alice in Wonderland.
July 27th, 2010, 3:46 AM Today, my boyfriend came over and met my parents. Then he left, and my Dad told me that my boyfriend loved me. I smiled and asked, “How do you know?” He said, “Because he looks at you the same way I look at your Mother.” Love GMH
vicenarian (20–29) tricenarian (30–39) quadragenarian (40–49) semicentenarian (50) quinquagenarian (50–59) sexagenarian (60–69) septuagenarian (70–79) octogenarian (80–89) nonagenarian (90–99) ultracentenarian (100+) centenary semisupercentenarian (105–109) supercentenarian (110+) supracentenarian centevicenarian ages 120-129 ↓ below are unreached ages of human people ↓ sesquicentenarian (150–159) bicentenarian (200–299) multicentenarian (200+) tricentenarian (300–399) quadricentenarian (400–499) quincentenarian (500–599)
I miss my papa ✹ I really wish I didn't poison him
r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 days ago chacde3 Halfway into our trip, the GPS arrival time switched from “Midnight” to “Never.” I was so distracted trying to figure out what it meant, I did not notice the truck veering into my lane.
https://www.wordexample.com/list/words-suffix-cide Foeticide, of a fetus Neonaticide, of a child during the first 24 hours of life Infanticide, an infant from month old to 12 months Avunculicide, one's uncle Fratricide, one's brother Mariticide, one's husband or significant other Matricide, one's mother Nepoticide, one's nephew Parricide, of one's close relative Patricide, of one's father Sororicide, of one's sister Uxoricide, of one's wife or girlfriend Nepticide, of one's niece Amiticide, of one's aunt Geronticide – the abandonment of the elderly to Senicide
Êšâ™ĄÉž đ€đ§đ đžđ„đŹ 𝐡𝐚𝐝 đ„đšđŻđžđ đČ𝐹𝐼 𝐬𝐹 đđžđšđ«đ„đČ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞đČ đ­đšđšđ€ đČ𝐹𝐼 𝐭𝐹 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧. 𝐌𝐚đČ đČđšđźđ« đžđ­đžđ«đ§đšđ„ đŁđšđźđ«đ§đžđČ 𝐛𝐞 đŸđźđ„đ„ 𝐹𝐟 đ„đšđŻđž 𝐚𝐧𝐝 đ đ«đšđœđž àŒŠ*·˚
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
░░░HAPPY░FATHER'S░DAY░░░ ▄▄▄░░▄▄░▄▄░░▄▄░░░▄░░▄▄░░ ░█░░███████░█░█░█░█░█░█░ ░█░░▀█████▀░█░█░█▄█░█░█░ ▄█▄░░░▀█▀░░░█▄▀░█░█░█▄▀░ I đŸ€ DAD
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.
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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.
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.
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
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 deጀd. I was the one that saw the lĂ­fe 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 lĂ­fe. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and save him, point the police to the hangers, and see those awful men put in jail for the rest of their lives. But I couldn't. I'll never be able to. I can't control where my branches bend, and my leaves can only rustle and whisper in the wind.
‘Crying isn’t going to help’ by HonestRage I'm a murder the one who killed my wife. He's just blubbering, perhaps a way of pleading, for his life... Perhaps if he spoke to me to reason, it might've ended differently. Perhaps I might've spared instead of murder if he only could talk out of it. But that was obviously not going to happen. After all, he was only just born moments ago.
Giggles Chuck climbed out of the bed and made his way to the bathroom, refusing to turn on the bedside lamp in case he disturbed his wife whom was lĂ„yÄ«ng 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 lĂ„yÄ«ng 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 bƂoođ, 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.”
Harry Ziegland, the suitor who had broken his sister’s heart, prompting her to take her life. The brother shot at Ziegland, who fell to the ground. However, the bullet meant for Ziegland did not strike him. Instead, it lodged itself into a nearby tree. Three years later, Ziegland was working to clear that same location and used dynamite to remove the tree. The explosion sent the bullet flying -- fatally striking Ziegland.
Mothers Illness My mother had fallen ill. She had what my dad did, at least thats what it looked like Everyone cried. I asked if we could take her to the doctor, but we cant afford it My older sister took time off college to take care of her, but we knew how it would end Mother would die like father did Two months later she did After the funeral the cops started to snooping around They questioned me first; they wanted to know what l knew: They threatened me, saying I could be charged as an adult because I was almost seventeen. I cried and said I loved my parents They took my finger prints and let me go. My sister was next They never let her go. They said she poisoned my parents for the life insurance policy she took out on them. My three younger siblings and i couldnt believe it My sister never admitted to the crime, but everyone said she was guilty. That is what it looked like. ‱ The hardest part of it all was getting my sisters figure prints on the poison. Faking her identity to take out the insurance policies was easy Soon Id be going to a new home, with new parents. Its time to start planning my next game.
The Lights When I was young, I used to sleep in my mother's bed a lot due to the nightmares I frequently had as a kid. I could always find peace under the covers of my mom's bed but I now realize the actual comfort had come from the lights. Though still foggy in my memory, there had always been a pair of two lights somewhere near the ceiling of my moms room; I never thought much of them, at least nothing bad of course, they were comforting, soothing, warm. I began depending on these lights, so much that when there didn't show (only on rare occasions), I couldn't help feeling distraught and never got a good sleep. I never investigated the lights, perhaps if I had I wouldn't be in the situation I am now. Eventually I got older and gradually stopped sleeping in my mom's room. The nightmares stopped and I had relatively forgotten about the lights, until last night. Stumbling to bed around midnight after a long night of studies, I couldn't wait to just hit the bed and sleep; I didn't get much, after all. Tormented by visions I hadn't had in a long time left me paralyzed and covered in sweat when I awoke. Somewhat relieved to be back to my world I was confronted with with a fond memory brought up through a familiar feeling. It took a few moments to notice the two solid lights and by now my eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness. Adrenaline surged through my body as I gripped the sides of my bed. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed something I hadn't through the foggy memories. They weren't lights; they were glowing red eyes. I began to wonder if this was another part of a nightmare, It had to be. Deep down I knew it wasn't, this was all too real. Through lost hope and fear for the unknown a grabbed the closest thing i could, a gift from my mother on my birthday a few years ago, a snow globe from our Denver ski trip. Playing baseball at school I developed a pretty efficient throwing arm. Launching it across the room with my pitching arm the eyes went dark followed by a thump on the floor in front of my bed. Turning on the lights left a pang of guilt in my stomach, why was that so easy. Seeing the creature for the first time up close and knowing it had been around here since I was a kid brought bile up my throat. Its limbs were half as thick than an average humans and where it's skin should have been was a substance unknown to me, dark and leathery but looked as though you could stick your hand right through it, recently punctured with shards of glass. What happened next led me to believe the theory I came up with, as soon as I turned on the lights, was true. This creature wasn't my enemy; nor was it just a neutral visitor. That's when it began, the trampling creaks on the stairs, windows smashing, and above all the worst part was the grotesque shrieks and howls. I knew what I had done tonight was the worst and probably last mistake of my life. Somewhere down the hall my sister screamed. The creature, the one I had killed, had been my protection.
r/shortscarystories 5 days ago DottedWriter My Former Highschool Bully Apologized To Me Today I stared at her as she sobbed on her knees "Alice, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for everything! I'm sorry for every horrible thing I've done to you!" Sophia said as she wept in front of me. I just stared at her as she continued to sob over all of the things she had done to me. She would directly insult or make demeaning JOKeS about me, spread n͟asty rumours about me, manipulate my friends against me, Ɵteal a guy I had a crush on, make horrible posts about me on social media, and even manipulate some guys into doing things like jum͜pingÌš me. She did everything if it meant I suffered in the end. I tried to tell my teachers about this, but they just turned a deaf ear, and I didn’t even bother talking to my parents about it, they were more focussed on their jobs than me. And even then, if Sophia found out I snitched, that would result in an extra beating from her and her cronies. She was behind all of my sufferıng, enjoyed the despair on my face, she enjoyed how much ab*se she inflected on me. So you could only imagine my surprise when she approached me one day and started to apologise tearfully to me As she continued to cry, my eyes started to spark with anger, anger that I had suppressed inside me for the past 5 years after highschool . I had no one to turn to for support, absolutely no one. And she dared to spew her little crocodile tears right in front of me. I had enough of it. I floated around my grave until I was behind her, I stared at her for a long minute, before I plunged my hand into her chest. She tensed up, and some of her bÄŸood splattered onto my grave. I dug through her organs before I found what I was looking for. Her heart. It was still beating as she collapsed to the ground, her hands clutching at the wound at a desperate attempt to cover the bleeding. She coughed out bƂoođ, and wheezed as she continue to bleed out. I stared at how pathetic and pitiful she looked now. I stared at her as a twisted, evil, and satisfied grin crept onto my face .
WIFE "Honey, I'm home!" I yelled, seeing my wife sitting at the dinner table already. "Nice to see you." her voice shook, a plastic smile stuck on her face. "It was a long day at work. Hey, do you mind maybe checking out upstairs? I saw your clothes strewn around...' I shrug, and start to eat dinner. "Of course!" A fuller, bigger smile. She races upstairs, and I continue eating. escarysories It's been quite a while, does it really take that long to put away clothes? So I tiptoe upstairs, and hear panicked whispering. *9111 Yes okay, this man thinks I'm his wife and.. ohmygod he's coming! My address j.* "What's going on, honey?" She screams as I impale the knife into her chest.
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..
December 13, 1977, Evansville Aces players, coaches, supporters and flight crew boarded a chartered DC-3 plane to travel to Murfreesboro for a game against Middle Tennessee. Just one minute after taking off, at 7:22 p.m. crashed, tragically taking the lives of everyone onboard. The only member of the Purple Aces who did not die in the crash was 18-year-old freshman David Furr; he was out for the season with some infirmary and thus was not on the plane that day. Lucky break? Well
 Davis Lee Furr, weeks after the plane crash, and his younger brother Byron were killed in a car accident near Newton, Illinois, leaving the entire 1977 Evansville team dead.
r/shortscarystories 23 hr. ago captain-howdy2323 Unknown Stranger Oh my! I can hear him moving around down stairs. Can I remember if I heard him come inside? Idk. I must have because I've armed myself. I cower away in this closet. But I can't remember any of that. I must be in shock. Oh my heart is racing. I hear him coming up the stairs. It won't be long until he finds me. I can already see what everyone will be saying. "Man found in house", "The bloodbath". He's right outside the room. I'm breathing so heavily. I'm sure he can hear me. Please, stop shaking. Please, nerves calm down. He's opening the door. This is it. Finally. I've been waiting in his closet for hours.
r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago RVKony Join The Blind Child "StĂŁbbing." 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 cĂ»rsĂȘd 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 lÄŻfe 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 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 hadnïżœïżœïżœt screamed so loud.
Not only have we implanted a lifetime of human memories into this rat but we can now monitor what it's thinking. It appears to think it's reading the second line of a two sentence story on-line right now..
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..."

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

July 1974, Neville Ebbin was knocked off his small motorcycle and killed by a taxi in Hamilton, Bermuda.⠀ đŸš©â € One year later in July 1975, his brother, Erskine Lawrence Ebbin was knocked off the same motorcycle by the same taxi with the same driver, carrying the same passenger, on the same street that had killed his brother, Neville.⠀ ⠀ Both brothers were 17 when they died.
“I came home from a hard day of work only to find my girlfriend holding our child. I didn’t know which was more horrifying, seeing my dead girlfriend and child, or knowing someone put them there.” -Edwin Reifer
đŸ”” The first man to drown during the building of the Hoover was J.G. Tierney, on December 20, 1922. The final man to during the project was Patrick W. Tierney, his son, in 1935 - - also on December 20. đŸ””
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.
January 2, 2013 Messages I think we should see other people ... Roses are red Violets are blue U really thought I would cry over u? I said I loved you You thought that was true well guess what player You just got played to smartphOWNED.com
r/TwoSentenceHorror 1 day ago dreamisland123456 á¶œá”’âżËąá¶ŠËąá”—Ëą ᔒᶠ á”á”’Êłá”‰ "I'm getting my revenge!" She screamed, preparing to plunge the kn1fe into my chest. But it's to bad she has the wrong twin.
Terms for the Mvrder of Loved Ones Amicicide: of one’s friend (amicus - friend) Avunculicide: of one’s uncle (avunculus - maternal uncle) Familicide: of one’s family (spouse and children) (familia - family) Filicide: of one’s daughter or son (filia - daughter; filius - son) Fratricide: of one’s brother (or sibling) (frater - brother; fratrem - sibling) Mariticide: of one’s husband (or spouse) (maritus - husband, spouse) Matricide: of one’s mother (mater - mother) Neonaticide: of one’s newborn child (neo - new; natus - born) Patricide: of one’s father (pater - father) Prolicide: of one’s offspring (proles - offspring) Senicide: of one’s elder (senes - elderly; senex - old man) Sororicide: of one’s sister (soror - sister) Uxoricide: of one’s wife (uxor - wife, spouse) Amiticide: of one’s aunt (amita - paternal aunt) Aniclicide: of one’s female elder (anicla - old woman) Avicide: of one’s grandparent (avia - grandmother; avus - grandfather) Conjicide: of one’s spouse (conjux, coniux - spouse, husband, wife) Nepticide: of one’s niece (nepti - niece)
Remembering the 1977 Evansville Purple Aces Tuesday, December 13, 1977 was a cold, rainy evening in Evansville, Indiana. Fog was moving in in front of a cold front, and wind gusts whipped across the prairie. The University of Evansville Purple Aces, the men’s basketball team, was preparing to head to a game at Middle Tennessee State University in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. But the team had waited over three hours at the airport before their plane arrived. It had been delayed due to inclement weather. The players and their new coach, Bobby Watson, were excited and anticipating this game, thinking it could be the beginning of the holiday turn-around games they were expecting to win... With a 1 – 3 record going into this game, the Aces wanted to prove they had what it would take to bring home a victory, and that their young, optimistic coach was right – in their first season of Division 1 competition they planned to be a force to be reckoned with come spring. And the City of Evansville staunchly supported them! But at 7:22 p.m., on runway 18 at Evansville Dress Regional Airport, all hopes for the team and their coach ended. Within 90 seconds after takeoff, the twin-engine Douglas C-53 (DC-3) chartered to fly the team to Nashville, lost control and crashed in a nearby field. There were 29 people on board, all of whom lost their lives
 The hometown basketball team was gone. The horror of the crash rebounded around the city, the state, the Midwest, and the country. The official accident report listed the probable cause of the crash as "An attempted take-off with the rudder and right aileron control locks installed, in combination with a rearward centre of gravity, which resulted in the aircraft's rotating to a nose-high attitude immediately after take-off, and entering the region of reversed command from which the pilot was unable to recover.” The report also stated that the passenger baggage had not been loaded correctly, creating an improper weight balance in the rear of the plane. Of those who were, 14 were members of the Purple Aces basketball team, along with Coach Bobby Watson. Also on board were three student managers, three UE officials, the team’s radio announcer, two fans, and four members of the flight crew, along with the president of the airline. No survivors of the team left, save for one member of the Purple Aces had not been injured. Freshman David Furr, who also served as the team’s statistician, had been sidelined due to an infirmity and was not on the plane that night.. But two-weeks later, Furr and his 16-year-old brother were in a car crash after being hit by a driver. By the end of 1977, all of the members of UE’s Purple Aces were gone. Remembering those who lost their lives in the crash: University of Evansville Coach Robert (Bobby) Watson Purple Aces Players Kevin Kingston, senior John Ed Washington, senior Tony Winburn, senior Steve Miller, junior Bryan Taylor, junior Keith Moon, sophomore Warren Alston, freshman Ray Comandella, freshman Mike Duff, freshman Kraig Heckendorn, freshman Michael Joyner, freshman Barney Lewis, freshman Greg Smith, freshman Mark Siegel, freshman Student Managers Jeff Bohnert Mark (Tank) Kirkpatrick Mark Kniese University of Evansville Officials Bob Hudson, athletic business manager Gregory Knipping, sports information director Charles Shike, comptroller Radio Announcer Marvin (Marv) Bates Fans and Boosters Charles Goad Maurice (Maury) King Flight Crew Members & Airline Representatives Ty Van Pham, pilot Gaston Ruiz, first officer Pam Smith, flight attendant James Stewart, president of National Jet Service, Inc. Bill Hartford, charter flight manager
The End “The End is nigh” “Agency Officials: Spend this time with your loved ones” “Citizens prepare for the Inevitable” The newspapers were all the same. His mother whisked him away from the news stand and into her arms, but not before he read the last headline. “The Invasion: What could We have done?” “Mommy, what’s happening?” he whispered. She pressed his warm, chubby hand to her wet cheek and let out a quiet sob. “The humans. They found us.”
1 day ago u/Sticky_Cheetos He handed me a box and said, “If you press this button, you get $100,000, but it takes one year off of your lÄŻfe.” I pressed it once, and everything went darkÌ”.
20 OCTOBER 2010 VIA LoveGivesMeHope lovegivesmehope: givesmehope: My best friend died in a car accident on his way to deliver me soup for my cold. Found in the car was also a bouquet of flowers and a card that read: “We’ve been best friends for the last 5 years. Now, let’s be lovers for the next 50.” Unforgettable LGMH
I'm 17 and recently lost my mom in a car accident. As I was rambling on and crying about how she wouldn't be there for my wedding or the birth of my children, my fiance lifted up my head and simply said, "Baby, don't worry. She'll have the perfect view." Sam, you GMH. June 24th, 2010, 12:29 AM
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I see the death of everyone I meet. (Written by JJX2525, from Reddit) SHARED JUN 05 I see the death of everyone I meet. Once, when I was in kindergarten, I got booted out of class for telling the new girl Abigail that she smelt badÌł. I remember it vividly – a bloody-burny-boozy smell that hit me the moment she came in. Abigail burst into tears and I got a stern lecture on telling lıes. But it wasn’t a lie. My little nose had leapt forward ten years into the future, where a teenage Abigail would drunkenly plough her parent’s Mitsubishi straight into the front of an oncoming bus. When we met again in middle school I smelt it a second time, along with the song she’d be playing on the radio – five seconds of a generic disco beat. The last thing she’d hear. I know it’s bad҉ to say, but I think there’s something sacred about it. There’s nothing more personal then someone’s last̀ moments of lĂ­fe. I try not to take it for granted. It’s hard, sometimes, though, especially once I got older and better at it. Along with smells came sounds, sights, and even feelings, though that last one was rare. In this day and age most people go to their dEath with pastel colours and blinking machines and a faint whiff of hand sanitizer, their brains too fizzled to know what’s about to happen. There are exceptions. Like Abigail, or my middle school gym teacher, who was going to dıe with a deafening bang in a rush of mad courage. I couldn’t hear a word of his opening lecture because my ears were still ringing. Suıcıde will do that to you. Have I ever told anyone? Of course not. Can you imagine? Even if they did believe me, which I doubt, it wouldn’t be long before curiosity got the better of them. They’d want to know what I saw in them. Which is fine for the heart attacks and the quietly-in-their-sleeps, but what do you say to a m√rder? And no you can’t change it, don’t ask me because I already tried, I already tried and you can’t beat the system. You just can’t. I already lost someone to that. Her name was Phoebe and she was in my History class at community college. It was a prettÉ„ small place and I knew most of the other kids there – except for her. We weren’t on speaking terms because every time she came within a few feet of me I got the urge to vom1t. It was motion sickness, but also something worse – fear. Hers was the worst fear I’d ever felt in another human being. I could hardly stand to be in the same room as her. I managed to avoid her for a couple months, until one day when she arrived late to class. She apologised and looked around, before striding to the back of the room and sitting beside me. There was nothıng I could do. I felt it all. The nausea, the terror, and a vision too, of me stuck fast in my seat as I hurdles headlong flaming out of the sky – the ocean rushing up towards me – screaming, then – Smack. Nothıng. When I came to she was glaring at me. ‘What is your problem?’ she whispered. ‘What?’ I asked, the uneasiness subsiding. ‘I don’t –‘ ‘If you don’t likeÌą me then just say so. Quit pretending to be ıll all the time.’ ‘Huh?’ I sat up, trying to get a better look at her. We’d never been this close before. She was pretty. I hadn’t thought about how I must look to her, running away every time she got close. ‘I swear it’s not on purpose.’ I said. ‘I’m sick͞ a lot. It isn’t you.’ ‘Sure.’ she said, looking back towards the front of the front of the class. ‘Honestly.’ I said. ‘Let me – let me make it up to you.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Seriously?’ And that was the start of it. Within a month we were official. It was the happiest time of my life. The sicknesses didn’t go away, but it subsided after a couple minutes, and she stopped taking it personally after a while. Dashing to the bathroom became part of the routine on dates. We did everything together, all the couple things – movies, dinners, walks. It was my first serious relationship. I convinced myself that her dEath – whatever it was – was still years into the future. For a while, anyway. At the start of the summer she told me she was going to visit her grandparents out of state. ‘The flight’s on Monday. I won’t be gone much more than a week.’ ‘Flight?’ I repeated. ‘Yeah.” she replied. ‘Hey, what’s wrong with you?’ I convinced her to take a road trip. I can’t remember the exact excuse I gave. Some nonsense about expenses, life experience, our ‘carbon footprint’. How it took me that long to guess it could be a plane crash I’ll never know. I was in too deep, I guess. But whatever it was I said she must have seen I was serious. She rented a red mini from the local garage and, after we’d packed it up, I kissed her goodbye and said it was the right decision. ‘Okay.’ She laughed. ‘Weirdo.’ Straight after she left I got the urge to call her, but I told myself I was being overprotective. I worked for a few hours, then flopped down in front of the TV. I watched bad reality shows until I got bored, then flicked to the local news station just in time to see the breakıng story of a twelve car pile-up on a suspension bridge, when a truck driver dozing at the wheel had strayed out of his lane, clipping the corner of a passing car which swerved into another, triggering a chain of collisions which ended tragically when – some viewers may find this footage disturbing – a red mini was forced over the side, plummeting into the ocean beloÉŻ..
Just today, I found out the real reason of my parents’ deaths‎ when I was 10. When our car lost ıt's brakes and was going to crash, they tried to protect me at the last minute. Their bĂždies were found, covering me while I was non-conscious. Their never ending love truly GMH.
i turned to the guy who k1lled my wife ✹ He cried so desperately, scared for what was to come. If only he had talked to me and tried to reason, maybe I could have spared him. But that was impossible. After all, he was born just a few moments ago...
Jan 1, 2011 9:47 PM Mom <Your great aunt just passed away. LOL Why is that funny?> <It's not funny! Wht do you mean? Mom lol means laughing out loud!> <Oh goodness!! I sent that to everyone I thought it meant lots of love.
~ -creepypastastories- Monsters and Ghosts Monsters are real, also ghosts They live inside us And sometimes they win

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

ᔆᔖᔒᔗ áŽŒâż! ⁜ᔆᔖᔒᔗ ⁻ᔗʰᔉ ᔖᔘᔖ➎ á¶ Êłá”’á” Ëąá”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡â» á¶ á”ƒâżá¶ â±á¶œ Ëąá”—á”’ÊłÊžâŸ 'áŽŹÊłá¶  ʞᔒᔘ Êłá”‰á”ƒá”ˆÊž?' ᎔ ᔗʰᔒᔘᔍʰᔗ➎ ᔃ˹ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż Ê·á”‰âżá”— á”—á”’ á¶œá”ƒÊłÊłÊž ᔒᔘᔗ Ê°â±Ëą á”–ËĄá”ƒâżâ€§ ᎎⁱ➎ ᔐʞ âżá”ƒá”á”‰ ⁱ˹ ᔆᔖᔒᔗ➎ ᔃⁿᔈ ᎔ᔐ ᔗʰᔉ ᔃᔐᔒᔉᔇᔃ ᔃᔗ ᔗʰᔉ ᶜʰᔘᔐ ᔇᔘᶜᔏᔉᔗ‧ áŽčÊž á”’Ê·âżá”‰ÊłËą á”ƒÊłá”‰ áŽ·á”ƒÊłá”‰âż ᔃⁿᔈ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âżâžŽ Ê·Ê°á”’ ⁱ˹ á”ƒËĄËąá”’ ᔐʞ ᔇᔉ˹ᔗ á¶ Êłâ±á”‰âżá”ˆâ€§ ᎎᔉ'Ëą ᔍᔒᔗ ˹ᔒᔐᔉ á”ƒâżá”á”‰Êł â±ËąËąá”˜á”‰ËąâžŽ ᎔ á”âżá”’Ê·â€§ áŽźá”˜á”— á”‰á”›á”‰ÊłÊžá”ˆá”ƒÊž ʷⁱᔗʰ ᔐᔉ➎ ʰᔉ ⁱ˹ âżâ±á¶œá”‰â€§ ᎔ ᔉⁿÊČá”’Êž Ëąâ±á”—á”—â±âżá” ᔒⁿ Ê°â±Ëą ËĄá”ƒá”– á”ˆá”˜Êłâ±âżá” ᔐᔒᔛⁱᔉ âżâ±á”Ê°á”—â€§ ᔂᔉ á¶œá”˜á”ˆá”ˆËĄá”‰ ᔃᔗ ᔇᔉᔈᔗⁱᔐᔉ ⁱⁿ Ê°â±Ëą á”ƒÊłá”Ëąâ€§ ᎎᔉ á”â±á”›á”‰Ëą ᔐᔉ á”â±ËąËąá”‰Ëąâ€§ á”€Ê°â±âżá” ʞᔒᔘ ᔍᔉᔗ ᔗʰᔉ ᔖᔒⁱⁿᔗ‧ áŽźá”˜á”— ʰᔉ á”ˆá”’á”‰Ëąâż'á”— ËĄâ±á”á”‰ á”—á”’ ËąÊ°á”’Ê· Ê·á”‰á”ƒá”âżá”‰ËąËąâžŽ ⁱⁿ á¶ Êłá”’âżá”— ᔒᶠ á”’á”—Ê°á”‰ÊłËąâ€§ ᎏⁿᔈ ᔉᔃᶜʰ á”–ËĄá”ƒâż á¶ á”ƒâ±ËĄá”˜Êłá”‰ ʰᔉ á”’âżËĄÊž á”â±á”›á”‰Ëą ᔃ á”‡Êłâ±á”‰á¶  Ëąá”‰âżá”—á”‰âżá¶œá”‰ ᔒᶠ ʷʰᔃᔗ Ê·á”‰âżá”— Ê·Êłá”’âżá”âžŽ ᔃⁿᔈ á”—Ê°á”‰âż Ëąá”’ ᔒⁿ‧ ᔆᔒ Ê·Ê°á”‰âż ʰᔉ Êłá”ƒâż ᔇᔃᶜᔏ ⁱⁿ á¶œÊłÊžâ±âżá”âžŽ ᎔ á”ÊžËąá”‰ËĄá¶  ᶠᔉ˥ᔗ ËĄâ±á”á”‰ á¶œÊłÊžâ±âżá” ʷⁱᔗʰ ʰⁱᔐ‧ "᎞ᔉᔗ ᔐᔉ á”á”˜á”‰ËąËąâ€§â€§â€§" "áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą Ê°á”˜á”â±ËĄâ±á”ƒá”—á”‰á”ˆ ᔐᔉ Ëąá”’ ÊČá”˜Ëąá”— ËĄá”‰á”ƒá”›á”‰ ᔐᔉ á”ƒËĄá”’âżá”‰!" ᎎᔉ Êžá”‰ËĄËĄá”‰á”ˆ ᔃᔗ Ê°â±Ëą Ëąá”ƒÊłá¶œá”ƒËąá”—â±á¶œ ʷⁱᶠᔉ‧ ᎔ Ê·Ê°â±á”á”–á”‰Êłá”‰á”ˆ ᔃ˹ ʰᔉ á”‰âżá”—á”‰ÊłËą ᔇᔃᶜᔏ‧ ᎔ ËĄâ±á¶œá”á”‰á”ˆ ᔃʷᔃʞ ᔗʰᔉ Ëąá”—Êłá”‰á”ƒá”â±âżá” á”—á”‰á”ƒÊłËą ᔃ˹ ʰᔉ ʰᔘᔍᔍᔉᔈ ᔐᔉ‧ á”†á”‰á”‰â±âżá” ʰⁱᔐ Ëąá”’ á”˜á”–Ëąá”‰á”— âœËąá”’á”á”‰á”—â±á”á”‰Ëą ʰᔉ á¶œÊłâ±á”‰Ëą ᔇᔘᔗ ʰᔉ á”˜Ëąá”˜á”ƒËĄËĄÊž á”ƒâżá”ÊłÊžâŸ áŽčᔃᔈᔉ ᔐᔉ ᔐᔃᔈ á”ÊžËąá”‰ËĄá¶  ᔃᔗ áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą! ᎔ á”âżá”’Ê· ᔗʰᔉʞ'Êłá”‰ ᔉⁿᔉᔐⁱᔉ˹➎ ᔇᔘᔗ ᎔ á”ˆá”’âż'á”— Ê·á”ƒâżá”— ʰⁱᔐ á”—á”’ ᔇᔉ Ëąá”’ Ê°á”˜Êłá”—â€§ ᎔ á”âżá”’Ê· ⁱᔗ˹ ᶠⁱⁿᔉ á”—á”’ ˥ᔉᔗ ᔒᔘᔗ ᔉᔐᔒᔗⁱᔒⁿ➎ ᔇᔘᔗ ⁱᔗ˹ ⁿᔉˣᔗ ˥ᔉᔛᔉ˥! ᎔ ËĄá”’á”’á”á”‰á”ˆ ᔒᔘᔗ ᔗʰᔉ Ê·â±âżá”ˆá”’Ê· á”—á”’ ˹ᔉᔉ áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą Ê°â±á”Ëąá”‰ËĄá¶ âžŽ ËĄá”ƒá”˜á”Ê°â±âżá” ᔃᔗ ᔐʞ ᔐᔃⁿ! ᎔ Ê·á”‰âżá”— ᔘᔖ á”—á”’ ᔗʰᔉ Ê·â±âżá”ˆá”’Ê· ᔃ˹ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż ᔖᔉᔉᔏᔉᔈ ⁱᔗ ᔒᔖᔉⁿ‧ "ᔂʰᔃᔗ ᔃ ÊČᔒᔏᔉ!" áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą ËĄá”ƒá”˜á”Ê°á”‰á”ˆâžŽ ᔃ˹ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż ËąÊ°á”‰á”ˆ á”á”’Êłá”‰ á”—á”‰á”ƒÊłËąâ€§ ᔂʰʞ á”ˆá”’á”‰Ëąâż'á”— ʰᔉ ᔖⁱᶜᔏ ᔒⁿ ᔖᔉᔒᔖ˥ᔉ Ê°â±Ëą á”’Ê·âż ˹ⁱᶻᔉ? á”†á”˜Êłá”‰âžŽ ʷᔉ'Êłá”‰ á”‡á”˜Ëąâ±âżá”‰ËąËą Êłâ±á”›á”ƒËĄËą ᔃⁿᔈ á”’á”˜ÊłËą ⁱ˹ ËąËĄá”’Ê·âžŽ ᔇᔘᔗ ᎔ ÊČá”˜Ëąá”— ᔃᔐ á¶ á”˜Êłâ±á”’á”˜Ëąâ€§ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż ÊČᔘᔐᔖᔉᔈ ᔒⁿ á”—á”’ Ê°â±Ëą ᔇᔉᔈ ᔃ˹ ᎔ á”Êłá”’Ê·ËĄá”‰á”ˆ ᔃᔗ ᔗʰᔉ Ëąâ±á”Ê°á”— ᔒᶠ áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą á”á”’â±âżá” ᔇᔃᶜᔏ ⁱⁿ á”—á”’ Ê°â±Ëą á”Êłá”‰á”ƒá”— Êłá”‰Ëąá”—á”ƒá”˜Êłá”ƒâżá”—â€§ ᎔'ËĄËĄ ËąÊ°á”’Ê· áŽčÊłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą Ê·Ê°á”’'Ëą ᔃ ÊČᔒᔏᔉ! ᎔ á¶œá”’á”˜ËĄá”ˆâżá”— ÊČá”˜Ëąá”— ᔈᔒ âżá”’á”—Ê°â±âżá”â€§ ᎔ Ëąâżá”˜á¶œá” á”—á”’ ᔗʰᔉ áŽ·Êłá”˜Ëąá”—Êž áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡â€§ ᎔ â±á”âżá”’Êłá”‰á”ˆ áŽčÊłâ€§ á”†á‘«á”˜â±á”ˆÊ·á”ƒÊłá”ˆ ᔃⁿᔈ á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰áŽźá”’á”‡âžŽ Ê·Ê°á”’ ᔈⁱᔈⁿ'á”— âżá”’á”—â±á¶œá”‰ ᔐᔉ‧ áŽčÊž á¶ Êłâ±á”‰âżá”ˆ áŽłá”ƒÊłÊž'Ëą á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰áŽźá”’á”‡ ᔖᔉᔗ➎ ᔃⁿᔈ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż'Ëą ᔒⁿ Ëąá”’á”á”‰Ê·Ê°á”ƒá”— á”ˆá”‰á¶œá”‰âżá”— á”—á”‰Êłá”Ëą ʷⁱᔗʰ á”†á”–á”’âżá”á”‰áŽźá”’á”‡; ᔗʰᔉʞ á¶œá”’á”˜ËĄá”ˆ ᔇᔉ á¶ Êłâ±á”‰âżá”ˆËą ⁱᶠ Ëąá”–á”’âżá”á”‰á”‡á”’á”‡'Ëą ⁿᔒᔗ Ê·á”’Êłá”â±âżá” á¶ á”’Êł áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëąâ€§ áŽșᔒ➎ ᎔ Ê·á”’âż'á”— ˥ᔉᔗ ʰⁱᔐ ᔍᔉᔗ Ëąá”ƒá”—â±Ëąá¶ á”ƒá¶œá”—â±á”’âż á¶ Êłá”’á” Ëąá”˜á¶œÊ° ᔉˣᔖ˥ᔒⁱᔗ˹‧ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż ᔐᔃʞ ⁿᔒᔗ ᔇᔉ á”ƒá”‡ËĄá”‰ á”—á”’ á¶œÊ°á”ƒâżá”á”‰ ⁱⁿ á”ƒá”á”’Êłá”–Ê°á”’á”˜Ëą ËąÊ°á”ƒá”–á”‰ á¶ á”’Êłá”Ëą âżá”’Êł á¶œËĄá”ƒÊ· ᔃᔗ Ê°â±Ëą ᔉⁿᔉᔐⁱᔉ˹➎ Ëąá”’ Ê·Ê°Êž ⁿᔒᔗ‧‧‧ Ꮁʞᔉ Ëąá”’á”á”‰Ê·Ê°á”ƒá”— Êłá”‰á”ˆâžŽ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż á”‰á”á”‰Êłá”á”‰á”ˆ á¶ Êłá”’á” Ê°â±Ëą Êłá”’á”’á”â€§ "áŽ·á”ƒÊłá”‰âżâžŽ á”—á”˜Êłâż ᔒⁿ ᔗʰᔉ á”—á”› Ëąá¶œÊłá”‰á”‰âżâ€§â€§â€§" ᎎᔉ ˹ᔃⁱᔈ➎ ˹ᔗⁱ˥˥ Ëąá”’á”˜âżá”ˆâ±âżá” á”‰ËŁÊ°á”ƒá”˜Ëąá”—á”‰á”ˆ á¶ Êłá”’á” ᔗʰᔉ á”ˆá”ƒÊžËą á”’Êłá”ˆá”‰á”ƒËĄâ€§ ᎎᔉ Ê°á”‰ËĄá”ˆ ᔐᔉ á¶œËĄá”’Ëąá”‰ ᔃ˹ áŽŸá”‰Êłá¶œÊ° áŽŸá”‰Êłá”â±âżËą ᶜᔃᔐᔉ ᔒⁿ ᔗʰᔉ ᶠᔒᔒᔗᔃᔍᔉ Ëąá”‰á”á”á”‰âżá”— ⁱⁿ á¶ Êłá”’âżá”— ᔒᶠ ᔗʰᔉ áŽźâ±á”â±âżâ± ᎟ᔒᔗᔗᔒᔐ Ê°á”’Ëąá”–â±á”—á”ƒËĄâ€§ "áŽ±á”˜á”á”‰âżá”‰ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡ËąâžŽ á”‡á”˜Ëąâ±âżá”‰ËąËą á”’Ê·âżá”‰Êł ᔒᶠ ᔗʰᔉ á”‰á”›á”‰Êł á”–á”’á”–á”˜ËĄá”ƒÊł á”‡á”‰ËĄá”’á”›á”‰á”ˆ á”Êłá”˜Ëąá”—Êž á”Êłá”ƒá”‡âžŽ ⁱ˹ â±âżá”ˆá”‰á¶ â±âżâ±á”—á”‰ËĄÊž á¶œËĄá”’Ëąâ±âżá” ᔘᔖ Ê°â±Ëą Êłá”‰Ëąá”—á”ƒá”˜Êłá”ƒâżá”— á”˜âżá”—â±ËĄ ʰᔉ Ê°á”‰á”ƒËĄËą á¶ Êłá”’á” ʷʰᔃᔗ ˹ᔉᔉᔐ˹ á”—á”’ ᔇᔉ Ëąá¶œÊłá”ƒá”—á¶œÊ°á”‰Ëą ᔃ˥˥ á”’á”›á”‰Êłâ€§â€§â€§" ᎔ ᔗᔃᔍᔍᔉᔈ ᔐʞ á”—á”ƒâ±ËĄ ᔃᔗ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âżâžŽ Ê·Ê°á”’ Ëąá”ƒá”— ᔘᔖ Ëąá”—Êłá”ƒâ±á”Ê°á”—á”‰Êł ᔃᔗ ᔗʰᔉ âżá”‰Ê·Ëąâ€§ "ᎎᔉ ˹ᔃⁱᔈ ᔃⁿ á”˜âżá”âżá”’Ê·âż á”‡ËĄá”˜Êł ᔒᶠ á”‡á”ƒÊłá”â±âżá” ˹˥ⁱᔐᔉ ᔃᔗᔗᔃᶜᔏᔉᔈ ʰⁱᔐ➎ ᔇᔘᔗ Ê·á”’âż'á”— á”‡á”’á”—Ê°á”‰Êł á”–Êłá”‰ËąËąâ±âżá” á¶œÊ°á”ƒÊłá”á”‰Ëą ᔈᔘᔉ á”—á”’ ʰⁱᔈ ˥ᔒᔛᔉ á¶ á”’Êł á”á”’âżá”‰Êžâ€§" áŽ·á”ƒÊłá”‰âż á”—á”˜Êłâżá”‰á”ˆ ᔒᶠᶠ ᔗʰᔉ Ëąá¶œÊłá”‰á”‰âżâ€§ "ᔆᔖᔒᔗ➎ ᔈⁱᔈ ʞᔒᔘ ᔈᔒ‧‧‧" ᎔ ÊČᔘᔐᔖᔉᔈ á”‰ËŁá¶œâ±á”—á”‰á”ˆËĄÊžâ€§ áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż Ëąá”â±ËĄá”‰á”ˆ ᔃᔗ ᔐᔉ➎ ᔃ˹ ᎔ âœá”—á”‰á”á”–á”’Êłá”ƒÊłâ±ËĄÊžâŸ ᔗᔒᔒᔏ á”ˆá”’Ê·âż Ê°â±Ëą Êłâ±á”›á”ƒËĄ á”–á”‰ÊłËąá”’âżá”ƒËĄËĄÊž á¶ á”’Êłâ€§ áŽ·Êłá”ƒá”‡Ëą Ê·â±ËĄËĄ ᔇᔉ ᶠⁱⁿᔉ➎ ᔇᔘᔗ âżá”’á”‡á”’á”ˆÊž ᔐᔉ˹˹ᔉ˹ ʷⁱᔗʰ ᔐʞ á¶ á”ƒá”â±ËĄÊžâ€§ áŽŹâżÊžá”’âżá”‰ Ê·Ê°á”’ á”ˆâ±ËąËĄâ±á”á”‰Ëą áŽŸËĄá”ƒâżá”á”—á”’âż ⁱ˹ ᔃⁿ á”‰âżá”‰á”Êž ⁱⁿ ᔐʞ ᔇᔒᔒᔏ‧
Repost this If you miss someone right now. July 27, 2015
The Never Ending Road. In Corona, California there once was a road known by most of the elder locals as the never ending road. Specifically, the road’s true name was Lester Road. However, over 70 years ago, Lester Road was an unlit road that people claimed became a never ending road when driven at night. The people who made such a drive were never seen or heard from again. The legend became so well-known that people refused to even drive Lester Road during the day. Perpetuation of the legend convinced local law enforcement to investigate around the 1960’s. Lester Road took a sharp left turn at it's end, and there were no guard rails. Beyond the curve lay a canyon, and on the other side of the canyon was another road that lined up so well with Lester Road that when viewed from the correct angle, especially at night, the canyon vanished from sight, and the road seemed to continue on up and over the hill on the other side of the canyon. Upon investigation of the canyon, dozens of cars were found, fallen to their doom, with the decomposing bþdies of the victims still strapped to their seats. Law enforcement tried to cover up their findings. They closed down Lester road, letting the trees grow where the road once stood and letting the bþdies remain in their final resting place.
22 years ago, a 16 year old girl was pregnant with a baby. Understanding the circumstances, her parents told her to abort or be disowned. Her best friend - her 18 year old neighbour - although he was not the father, stepped into the father figures shoes. They got married 2 years later. Mom and Dad, your love for me, and for each other, GMH. Dec 1st, 2014
r/TwoSentenceHorror 26 days ago Prestigious_Salad_85 I screamed in excitement as I received an email stating that my application was accepted. The rest of my family cried out in despair knowing they weren’t selected to board the last ship leaving our dying planet behind.
r/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.
In 1989 a woman gave birth to a girl who had down syndrome, and a hole in her heart and stomach. She died 3 years later. Her next child was miscarried. She got pregnant again and was told to have an abortion that refused even though she knew the risks were high for her and the baby. Here I am 14 years later, perfectly healthy. Mom, your LGMH Dec 1st, 2014
Do need the pap smear test if a virg!n and/or not s*xual active? You may not necessarily require, unless... You want to plan on having offspring To check for as*ault (such as ab*se) A family relation has had female reproductive cancer if contemplating feticidal abort1on If getting some reproductive apparatus if any of the above applies to you, the circumstances might be different regarding whether or not you as a virg!n should get one if you're not active The pap smear test only checks for cancers caused by the hpv transmitted virus which is transmitted vĂ­a such contact If you're not virg!n you may have hpv (said cancer causing virus, which the pap checks you for) dormant in your system
r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 yr. ago mydadsnameisharold "Yes, the blood means you're a woman now." Too groggy to make sense of the pain between his legs, he managed to ask, "... what did you just do to me?"

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

r/TwoSentenceHorror 11 hr. ago SkullStar “I only want two kids; no more, no less”, my husband reassured me as I smiled. The twins went inside the house and as my husband's pregnant mistress crossed the street, my foot pressed on the gas pedal.
Practice Makes Perfect by reddit user whiteddit "You're not even trying. Again!" My calloused hands dance across the music. A finger slips and the tune groans. "Your father would be ashamed. Again!" My blurred vision falls from the yellowed sheet music to the keys. I miss another note. "Faster. Again!" I stumble once more as the tempo increases. She rises from the bench. "Absolutely worthless. You're done for today." I hang my head in shame. I know what's coming. The floorboards creak as Mother returns from the kitchen. I wince. It's hard enough to play with three fingers. It'll be even harder with two.
r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 hr. ago villianrules After taking the ancestry test I discovered that I was related to a serial killer. It makes me so proud of continuing the legacy.
I was at my friends house, whose 5yr old little brother died very recently due to a fire. He lived with his aunt and uncle. At dinner, his 4yr old cousin blessed the meal. "Dear God, thank you for this meal. And I know your keeping Brenden safe. Never stop playing with him. Amen." Little kids GMH Mar 23, 2011 at 11:30pm by Carly, AR
https://www.bassettbranches.org/tng/getperson.php?personID=I9186&tree=14B Francis Edmund Bessette Male 1904 - 1917 (~ 12 years) Name Francis Edmund Bessette Father Augustin Seymour Bessette, b. 1870, d. 28 Aug 1948 (Age 78 years) Mother Marie Louise Poulin Born Jul 1904 Richford, Vermont Gender Male Died 1917 Richford, Vermont The Bennington Evening Banner, Friday, October 10, 1919 Boy Suffocates In Elevator Head Forced Between Knees When Caught in Pit by Descending Car Richford, Oct. 8 ? Edmund (Edward?) Bessette, the 15-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. Seymour Bessette, died of suffocation shortly after six o?clock tonight in a very unusual accident, his body being caught between the bottom of an elevator pit and the descending elevator, which forced his head between his knees and shut off his breath. The accident happened as the lad went down to the basement of the Sweat Comings building for the purpose of getting some cracked ice to put in ice cream tanks for he Corliss Candy Kitchen where he was emplo9yed after school hours. The buckets were filled with ice and it is supposed that the boy pulled the cable starting the elevator down and it pushed him under it. The accident was discovered when the boy failed to show up. H.H. Comings, first selectman, and Dr. R. M. Pelton were summoned and removed the body to the undertaking rooms of Powell & Comings, where and examination was held. No broken bones or even abrasions were discovered on the body and death was found due to suffocation. Buried All Saints Cemetery, Richford, Vermont https://www.bassettbranches.org/tng/getperson.php?personID=I9186&tree=14B
Today my aunt found out she's having a girl She told me she was upset, I asked why She said "I don't think anyone can live up to be as great as you, but then I remember that she will have you to look up to and to become as wonderful" My aunts love for me GMH:) Jul 15, 2013 at 4:00am by Ashley S
Yesterday I saw a mother and daughter studying for a big test, and the daughter has a disability . A man at the restaurant paid for their dinner and said, " God bless you for taking the time and working with YOUR daughter, and not paying someone else to do it". Loving families like this GMH ! Mar 22, 2011 at 3:00am by Morgan E, Nashville, TN
‘First Words‘ by alatus_corruptrix Any day now, she’ll say her first words. My wife and I have been playfully betting on what she’ll say first – ‘Mamá’ or ‘Daddy.’ I can hear my wife crooning over and over while she feeds her ‘Mama’s little girl! Mamá loves you so much!’ Sometimes, she’s not even subtle about it – ‘Say ‘Mamá!’ Come on! ‘Mamá!” I don’t mind it though. I still believe I’ll win. When we first brought her home, she would scream and cry and nothing my wife would say could calm her down. Ours must be a daddy’s girl. I sit her in her chair and my wife and I begin babbling like chickens – ‘Mamá!’ ‘Daddy!’ ‘Say Mamá!’ ‘Who’s daddy’s baby?’ I pull the gag from our little girl’s mouth. “P-please
 what do you want from me? Please, let me go
” My wife’s smile falls from her face. With a heavy heart, I put the gag back in as the girl starts to scream. I take her back and dispose of her. When I return, I find my wife crying. “It’s ok, honey,” I tell her; “the next one will be better, I promise.”
Mary had a little lamb It's fleece was white as snow, And everywhere that Mary went That lamb was sure to go. He followed her to school one day That was against the rules, It made the children laugh and play But soon they felt like fools. Mary’s corpse was in a room And oh, what a scene! The kids saw her coated in blood And regretted being mean. Soon the police arrived Stepped over Mary’s heart, And tried to ask everyone How she was ripped apart. But when nobody knew The origins of all the gore, The police decided That it was time to go hardcore. And so everyone was dragged To detectors so they can’t tell a lie But everybody refused to tell Why Mary had to die. Suspects were jailed everywhere Tom, Barb, and Sam Because not a single person knew The murderer was the lamb. June 21, 2017 hellofinah
r/shortscarystories 13 hr. ago S_G_Woodhouse I think I'm losing my head I was driving home after a long day at work. I blinked, and the next thing I knew, I was at home having dinner with my wife and 2 daughters. "What's wrong honey" she asked me. "I don't know. I just feel like I've forgotten something" I replied, confused. Forgot something? It was much worse than that, I had no memory of going home. I reassured her and spent the rest of the evening as normal, re-watching one of my favorite movies. Eventually, I dozed off. I dreamt strange things. I saw myself, having a picnic with my parents. Except they weren't smiling and happy like I remembered them. Instead, they were sitting on the picnic blanket, staring into space, their faces closed and expressionless. No matter how much I shouted at them in my daze, I couldn't see any life left in them; it was as if they were there, without being there. Detached. I woke up in my bed, alone. I looked all over the house, but not only was my wife gone, so were my children. My cell phone line was dead, no service. I went outside to get my car and drive to work, thinking I'd try to call my wife a little later. There was no one on the road but me. It was as if the whole Earth had emptied out. I'd dismissed my detachment last night, but I was seriously beginning to wonder if I was losing my mind. I was lost. I decided to go to my work to see if anyone was still in town, if a national evacuation drill was underway and could explain everything. Once there, I rushed back into the building, hoping to find someone who could explain what was going on. And when I opened the door, I was relieved to see that all my colleagues were there. At last, I could find out what was going on. I walked over to a colleague who over the years had become my best friend. "Hey, what's going on? My family's disappeared and there's nobody left in town," I asked him. He didn't answer. I stepped forward to face him, and discovered to my horror that his face and expression were detached exactly the same as my parents' in my dream. It couldn't be, was I trapped in a nightmare? I tried to talk to everyone, but they were all in the same state. My head hurt, my eyes hurt. I saw lights, and sounds filled my ears even though there was nothing here. Nothing alive. My vision began to narrow. Sounds began to blend together. Blackness. Emptiness. And finally, words I didn't have time to understand came to me for the last time. "The driver is dead, his head was torn off by the impact."
Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 13 hr. ago Classic-Dog8399 Ëąá¶œÊłá”’ËĄËĄ á”–ËĄËą âŹ‡ïž When I picked up my daughter from the mental institution, something was off about her. It was not just the feeling in my soul, but the stitches across her forehead.
‘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...
Tʀ᎜Ɏᎋ-ᎏʀ-Tʀᎇᎀ᎛ /sʜᎏʀ᎛sᎄᎀʀʏs᎛ᎏʀÉȘᮇs G᎜ʏAᮡᮋs Tʀ᎜Ɏᎋ-ᎏʀ-Tʀᎇᎀ᎛ “Is ᎛ʜÉȘs ʏᎏ᎜ʀ ғÉȘʀsᮛ ᮛÉȘᮍᮇ ᎛ʀ᎜Ɏᎋ-ᎏʀ-᎛ʀᎇᎀ᎛ÉȘÉŽÉą, Jᮀɮᮇᮛ? Yᮏᮜ ᮀɮᮅ ʏᎏ᎜ʀ sᎏɎ Eᎅᎅʏ ᎀʀᎇ ɱᮏɮɮᮀ ʟᎏᎠᎇ ÉȘᮛ!” Mʏ ɮᮇÉȘÉąÊœÊ™áŽáŽœÊ€ Yᮠᮇᮛᮛᮇ ʙᎇᎀᎍs áŽĄÊœÉȘʟᎇ ᮀᮅᮅÉȘÉŽÉą ᎛ʜᎇ ғÉȘÉŽÉȘsʜÉȘÉŽÉą ᎛ᎏ᎜ᎄʜᎇs ᮛᮏ ᎛ʜᎇ áŽ„áŽÊ™áŽĄáŽ‡Ê™s ÉȘÉŽ ʜᎇʀ ᎍÉȘÉŽÉȘᮠᮀɮ’s ᮅÉȘs᎘ʟᎀʏ. Aʟʟ ᎀʀᎏ᎜Ɏᎅ ᎛ʜᎇ ᎘ᎀʀᎋÉȘÉŽÉą ʟᎏ᎛ ÉȘs ᮀ sᮇᮀ ᎏғ sÉȘᎍÉȘʟᎀʀ HáŽ€ÊŸÊŸáŽáŽĄáŽ‡áŽ‡ÉŽ ᎅᎇᎄᎏʀ ÉȘÉŽ ᎄᎀʀ ʙᎏᎏ᎛s, ᎇᎀᎄʜ ᮀs ᮅᮇᮛᮀÉȘʟᎇᎅ ᮀs ʜᎇʀs. “Yᮇs” I ᮀɮsáŽĄáŽ‡Ê€, ᮀᮅᮊᮜsᮛÉȘÉŽÉą ᎛ʜᎇ ÉąÊœáŽsᮛ ᮅÉȘs᎘ʟᎀʏ ÉȘÉŽ ᎍʏ ᮏᮡɮ ᎄᎀʀ ᎛ʀ᎜Ɏᎋ. “Mʏ ғᎀᎍÉȘʟʏ ᮊᮜsᮛ ᮍᮏᮠᮇᮅ ʜᎇʀᎇ ғʀᎏᎍ ᎛ʜᎇ ᮄÉȘ᎛ʏ.” “Oʜ ÉȘᮛ’s sᎏ ᎍ᎜ᎄʜ ᎍᎏʀᎇ ᮄᮏɮᮠᮇɮÉȘᮇɮᮛ ᎛ʜᎀɎ ᎛ʀÉȘᮄᮋ-ᎏʀ-᎛ʀᎇᎀ᎛ÉȘÉŽÉą. IÉŽsᮛᮇᮀᮅ ᎏғ ᮛᮀᮋÉȘÉŽÉą ʏᎏ᎜ʀ ᮋÉȘᮅs ᎅᎏᎏʀ-ᮛᮏ-ᎅᎏᎏʀ ᎄᎏʟʟᎇᎄ᎛ÉȘÉŽÉą ᎄᎀɎᎅʏ, ʜᎇʀᎇ ᮡᮇ ᮊᮜsᮛ ᎘ᎀʀᎋ ᎏ᎜ʀ ᎄᎀʀs ÉȘÉŽ ᮀ ʟᎏᎄᎀʟ ᎄʜ᎜ʀᎄʜ ᎘ᎀʀᎋÉȘÉŽÉą ʟᎏ᎛ ᮀɮᮅ ᎄᎏʟʟᎇᎄ᎛ ᎛ʀᎇᎀ᎛s ғʀᎏᎍ ᎛ʜᎇ ᮏᮘᮇɮ ᎛ʀ᎜Ɏᎋs. LÉȘғᎇ’s ᎀʟʟ ᎀʙᎏ᎜᎛ ᮀᮅᮀᮘᮛÉȘÉŽÉą.” Eᎅᎅʏ ʙᎏʙs ÉȘÉŽ ᮇxᮄÉȘᮛᮇᮍᮇɮᮛ ÉȘÉŽ ʜÉȘs ᎍᎏɎs᎛ᎇʀ ᮄᮏsᮛᮜᮍᮇ. EáŽ€ÉąáŽ‡Ê€, ʜᎇ sᮇᮛs ᎏғғ ʀ᎜ɎɎÉȘÉŽÉą áŽ›áŽáŽĄáŽ€Ê€áŽ…s ᎛ʜᎇ sᮘᮏᮏᮋÉȘʟʏ ᎅᎇᎄᎏʀᎀ᎛ᎇᎅ ᎍÉȘÉŽÉȘᮠᮀɮs ᮀɮᮅ ᮋÉȘᮅs ʟÉȘÉŽÉȘÉŽÉą ᮜᮘ ғᎏʀ ᎄᎀɎᎅʏ. “TʜÉȘs ᮅᮏᮇs sᮇᮇᮍ ғ᎜Ɏ ғᎏʀ ᎛ʜᎇ ᮋÉȘᮅs, Yᮠᮇᮛᮛᮇ” I ᎛ᎇʟʟ ᎍʏ ɮᮇÉȘÉąÊœÊ™áŽáŽœÊ€ áŽĄÊœÉȘʟsᮛ sʜᎇ ᮘᮀssᮇs ᮏᮜᮛ ᎄʜᎏᎄᎏʟᎀ᎛ᎇs. “Bᮜᮛ ÊœáŽáŽĄ sᎀғᎇ ÉȘs ᎛ʜÉȘs? WÉȘ᎛ʜ ᎀʟʟ ᎛ʜᎇsᮇ sáŽ›Ê€áŽ€ÉŽÉąáŽ‡Ê€s’ ᎄᎀʀs
” “HᎏɎᎇʏ, ᎛ʀ᎜Ɏᎋ-ᎏʀ-᎛ʀᎇᎀ᎛ÉȘÉŽÉą ÉȘs ᎍ᎜ᎄʜ sᎀғᎇʀ ᎛ʜᎀɎ ᎛ʀÉȘᮄᮋ-ᎏʀ- ᎛ʀᎇᎀ᎛ÉȘÉŽÉą!” sʜᎇ ʀᎇᎀss᎜ʀᎇs ᮍᮇ. S᎜ᎅᎅᎇɎʟʏ, I ʜᎇᎀʀ ᎛ʜᎇ sᮏᮜɮᮅ ᎏғ ᮀ ᎄᎀʀ ʙᎏᎏ᎛ sʟᎀᎍᎍÉȘÉŽÉą sʜ᎜᎛ ᮀɮᮅ ᮀɮ ᮇɮɱÉȘɮᮇ ʀᎏᎀʀÉȘÉŽÉą ᮛᮏ ʟÉȘғᎇ. Tʜᎇ ʙʟᎀᎄᎋ SUV ᮀᮛ ᎛ʜᎇ ᮇɮᮅ ᎏғ ᎛ʜᎇ ᎘ᎀʀᎋÉȘÉŽÉą ʟᎏ᎛ ÉȘᮍᮍᮇᮅÉȘᎀ᎛ᎇʟʏ Ê™áŽ‡ÉąÉȘÉŽs ʀᎀᎄÉȘÉŽÉą ᮏᮜᮛ ᎏғ ᎛ʜᎇ ʙᎀʏ. Eᎅᎅʏ ÉȘs ÉŽáŽáŽĄÊœáŽ‡Ê€áŽ‡ ᮛᮏ ʙᎇ sᮇᮇɮ. “Hᎇʏ!” I sᎄʀᎇᎀᎍ. EᎠᎇʀʏᎏɎᎇ s᎘ÉȘÉŽs ÉȘÉŽ ᎛ʜᎇ ᮅÉȘʀᎇᎄ᎛ÉȘᎏɎ I’ᮍ ᮘᮏÉȘɮᮛÉȘÉŽÉą ÉȘÉŽ ᮛᮏ sᮇᮇ ᎛ʜᎇ SUV ᎥÉȘ᎛ʜ ᮛÉȘɮᮛᮇᮅ ᎥÉȘɮᮅᮏᮡs ᎇʀʀᎀ᎛ÉȘᎄᎀʟʟʏ ᎘᎜ʟʟÉȘÉŽÉą ᮏᮜᮛ. WÉȘ᎛ʜ ᮀ sᎄʀᎇᎇᎄʜ ÉȘᮛ ɱᮏᮇs ᎛ᎇᎀʀÉȘÉŽÉą ᮘᮀsᮛ ᮜs. Aᮛ ᮏɮᮄᮇ, ᎀʟʟ ᎛ʜᎇ ᎛ʀ᎜Ɏᎋ-ᎏʀ-᎛ʀᎇᎀ᎛ÉȘÉŽÉą ᎘ᎀʀᎇɎ᎛s Ê™áŽ‡ÉąÉȘÉŽ sʜᎏ᎜᎛ÉȘÉŽÉą ᮀɮᮅ ÉąÉȘᎠÉȘÉŽÉą ᎄʜᎀsᮇ ᮛᮏ ᎛ʜᎇ ᎍʏs᎛ᎇʀÉȘᮏᮜs ᮠᮀɮ ᮀs ÉȘᮛ ғʟᎇᎇs, ᎀʟʟ áŽĄÊœÉȘʟsᮛ ғʀᎀɎ᎛ÉȘᎄᎀʟʟʏ ᎄʜᎇᎄᎋÉȘÉŽÉą ᎛ʜᎀ᎛ ᎛ʜᎇÉȘʀ ᎄʜÉȘʟᎅʀᎇɎ ᎀʀᎇ sᎀғᎇ. “Is ᎀɎʏᎏɎᎇ ᎍÉȘssÉȘÉŽÉą?!” AᎍÉȘᮅsᮛ ᎀʟʟ ᎛ʜᎇ ᮘᮀɮÉȘᮄᮋÉȘÉŽÉą ᎄʜᎀᎏs, I ɮᮏᮛÉȘᮄᮇ Eᎅᎅʏ ʀ᎜ɎɎÉȘÉŽÉą ᮜᮘ ᮛᮏ ᮍᮇ. I ʀᎇᎀᎄʜ ᮅᮏᮡɮ ÉȘÉŽ ʀᎇʟÉȘᎇғ ᮀɮᮅ ÉąÉȘᮠᮇ ʜÉȘᎍ ᮀ ʙÉȘÉą ÊœáŽœÉą. “Aʟʟ ᮅᮏɮᮇ—ɮᮏ ᮏɮᮇ ɮᮏᮛÉȘᮄᮇᮅ ᮀ ᎛ʜÉȘɮɱ” ʜᎇ áŽĄÊœÉȘs᎘ᎇʀs ᮛᮏ ᮍᮇ ғÉȘᮇɮᮅÉȘsʜʟʏ. I sᎍÉȘʟᎇ ᮀ ғÉȘᮇɮᮅÉȘsʜ sᎍÉȘʟᎇ ʙᎀᎄᎋ. Tʜᎀ᎛ ᎅᎇ᎘ᎀʀ᎛ÉȘÉŽÉą ᮠᮀɮ, ᎅʀÉȘᮠᮇɮ ʙʏ ᎍʏ ʜ᎜sʙᎀɎᎅ, ᮡᮀs ᎛ʜᎇ ᎘ᎇʀғᎇᎄ᎛ ᮅÉȘs᎛ʀᎀᎄ᎛ÉȘᎏɎ. Iᮛ ʟᎇғ᎛ ᎍʏ sᎏɎ ᮊᮜsᮛ áŽ‡ÉŽáŽáŽœÉąÊœ ᮛÉȘᮍᮇ ᮛᮏ áŽ„Ê€áŽ€áŽĄÊŸ ᎜Ɏᎅᎇʀ ᎇᎀᎄʜ ᎏғ ᎛ʜᎇ ᎄᎀʀs ᎘ᎀʀᎋᎇᎅ ÉȘÉŽ ᎛ʜᎇ ʟᎏ᎛ ᮀɮᮅ ᮄᮜᮛ ᎛ʜᎇÉȘʀ ʙʀᎀᎋᎇ ʟÉȘɮᮇs. TᎏɎÉȘÉąÊœáŽ›, áŽĄÊœáŽ‡ÉŽ ᎇᎀᎄʜ ᎏғ ᎛ʜᎇsᮇ ʜᎇʟ᎘ʟᎇss ғᎀᎍÉȘʟÉȘᮇs ᎅʀÉȘᮠᮇ ʜᎏᎍᎇ ᎛ʜᎇʏ’ʟʟ ғÉȘɮᮅ ᎛ʜᎇᎍsᎇʟᎠᎇs sᮍᮀsʜÉȘÉŽÉą ÉȘɮᮛᮏ ᎛ʀᎇᎇs ÉȘÉŽsᮛᮇᮀᮅ ᎏғ ᮅÉȘɹɹÉȘÉŽÉą ÉȘɮᮛᮏ sᮡᮇᮇᮛs.
‘A Message From Your Personal Demons’ By MrGarm “I am the worst of your demons, but you see me as a friend.” Hello, my dear. You do not know who I am, but I know you. I am one of the three demons that were assigned to you at birth. You see, some people in this world are destined for greatness, destined to live happy, fulfilling lives. You, I am afraid, are not one of those people, and it is our job to make sure of that. Who are we? Oh yes, of course, how rude of me. Allow me to introduce us: Shame is my younger brother, the demon on your left shoulder. Shame tells you that you’re a freak; that those thoughts you have are not normal; that you will never fit in. Shame whispered into your ear when your mother found you playing with yourself as a child. Shame is the one who makes you hate yourself. Fear sits on your right shoulder. He is my older brother, as old as life itself. Fear fills every dark corner with monsters, and turns every stranger on a dark street into a murderer. Fear stops you from telling your crush how you feel. He tells you it is better not to try than to let people see you fail. Fear makes you build your prison. Who am I, then? I am the worst of your demons, but you see me as a friend. You turn to me when you have nothing else because I live in your heart. I am the one who forces you to endure. The one who prolongs your torment. Sincerely, Hope.
Messages Dad Dec 26, 2012 2:14 PM Dad there's a moth on the outside of the bathroom door can you get rid of it? Pis hurry because I'm going to cry Dad Dad > Dec 26, 2012 2:30 PM < Dad is dead. You're next. Love, Moth
Ꮆᔃᶜᔏ ᎏ ᎏᔇᔇᔒᔗᔗ ᎟᎔Ꮏᔀᎎ ÂČ⁎ áŽŹá”˜á” Âčâč⁔âč â±œâ±Êłá”â±âżâ±á”ƒâžŽ ᔁᔆᎏ ᎰᎱᎏᔀᎎ ÂčÂł ᎌᶜᔗ Âčâč⁶ÂČ âœá”ƒá”á”‰á”ˆ ÂłâŸ á¶ Êłá”’á” á”ˆÊłá”’Ê·âżâ±âżá” ⁱⁿ ᔃ ᔇᔃᔗʰᔗᔘᔇ ᔃⁿᔈ â±âżá”—á”‰Êłâżá”ƒËĄ á”‡ËĄá”‰á”‰á”ˆâ±âżá” á”†á”ƒâż áŽčᔃᔗᔉᔒ á¶œá”’á”˜âżá”—ÊžâžŽ á¶œá”ƒËĄâ±á¶ á”’Êłâżâ±á”ƒâžŽ ᔁᔆᎏ ᎟ᔁᎿ᎔ᎏ᎞ áŽŽá”’ËĄÊž á¶œÊłá”’ËąËą á¶œá”ƒá”—Ê°á”’ËĄâ±á¶œ á¶œá”‰á”á”‰á”—á”‰ÊłÊž á¶œá”’ËĄá”á”ƒâžŽ á”†á”ƒâż áŽčᔃᔗᔉᔒ á¶œá”’á”˜âżá”—ÊžâžŽ á¶œá”ƒËĄâ±á¶ á”’Êłâżâ±á”ƒâžŽ ᔁᔆᎏ
My grandfather recently died, and as we were going through his stuff he had THOUSANDS of pictures of my grandmother. Pictures of her sitting there, eating, smiling, laughing. She said he would follow her around with a camera so he wouldn’t miss a single time she smiled. His love for her GMH. June 19th, 2010, 1:37 AM
Go to TwoSentenceHorror r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 days ago steelerb56 áŽŽáŽŒáŽżáŽżáŽŒáŽż Ëąá”€áŽŒáŽżÊž. The doomsday preacher at my mom's church predicted the end in 2 months and I shook my head and chuckled. I totally forgot that was two months ago as the oncoming tractor trailer veered into my lane.
My little sister's boyfriend dumped her the week of their senior prom. When my boyfriend heard of this, he drove 7 hours from where we go to college so he could take her to the dance. Everyone there was jealous...especially her ex. His love for me and my family GMH. September 8th, 2010, 9:53 AM
Adam Zad 1 year ago I tried to give blood the other day. Never again. Too many questions! Whose blood is it? Where did you get it? Why is it in a bucket?
July 1996 . Twins can be conjoined at the: Abdomen (omphalopagus). Chest (thoracopagus). Top of head down to the belly button, facing each other (cephalopagus). Head only (craniopagus). Pelvis, facing each other (ischiopagus). Pelvis, side-to-side (parapagus). Rump-to-rump (pygopagus). Vertebral column (rachipagus). Generally, parapagus are conjoined at the upper chest. Parapagus, united laterally, always share a conjoined pelvis with one or two sacrums and one symphysis pubis. Dithoracic parapagus is when the two chests are separated, and the fusion is confined to the pelvis and abdomen. Dicephalic parapagus is if there is the union of the entire trunk but not the heads. The heart, liver, and diaphragm are fused, but there is a duplication of the respiratory tract and upper digestive tract; the viscera organs are fused. There are two arms, two legs, and two complete vertebral column and spinal cord. The number of limbs varies from 4 to 7, rarely with four legs. Generally, each lung is present in a separate lung cavity. The fusion of lungs is very rare. The alignment of the conjoined pelvis is diagnostic-one complete pelvic ring, with a single anterior pubic symphysis, and with two laterally fused sacral bones, and predominantly only one rectum. Ischiopagi are united ventrally extending from the umbilicus down to a sizeable conjoined pelvis with two symphyses pubis and two sacrum. Craniopagus can be united at any portion of the skull except at the face and the foramen magnum. Pygopagus varieties are joined dorsally; sharing the sacrococcygeal and perineal regions, sometimes even involving the spinal cord. Rachipagus twins are united dorsally above the sacrum. The union may also include the occiput. The cephalopagus varients are fused from the umbilicus to the top of the head. The pelvis and lower abdomen are usually not fused. Thoracopagus are united face-to-face from the upper thorax down till the umbilicus. Omphalopagus are primarily United at the umbilical region aligned face to face. The pelvis is not united. The pure parapagus is two heads, two hands, two legs, two hearts and two pairs of lungs. Conjoined twins are classified on the basis of the union's site, with the suffix pagus meaning fixed or fastened. The twins can have four (tetrapus), three (tripus), or two (bipus) legs. Cephalopagus: The twins often have a fused thorax in addition to a fused head. The single fused head may have two faces (janiceps) Cephalothoracopagus twinning is characterized by the anterior union of the upper half of the body, with two faces angulated variably on a conjoined head. The anomaly is occasionally known as janiceps, named after the two-faced Roman god Janus. The prognosis is extremely poor because surgical separation is not an option, in that only a single brain and a single heart are present and the gastrointestinal (GI) tracts are fused. Craniopagus: The conjoined twins share the skull, meninges, and venous sinuses Ischiopagus: The twins may lie face to face or end to end Pygopagus: The twins are joined dorsally, sharing the sacrococcygeal and perineal regions Rachipagus: The twins generally have vertebral anomalies and neural tube defects. Thoracopagus: The twins lie face to face and share the sternum, diaphragm, upper abdomen wall, and liver and have an exomphalos
. 9 years ago The First of Many I’m sleeping in my bed. A creaking sound comes from outside my bedroom window. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s 12:04. I always wake up at 12:04. The creaking gets louder and more intense. I roll out of bed and open my curtains to see what’s causing the noise. There in the yard is a tall, thin black figure with a pale white face. It has no nose, and just two empty sockets for eyes. It’s oblong mouth is shaking, obviously the source of the creaking noise. The thing’s cheekbones are sunken in, and it’s ribs jut out of it's shadowy skin. There’s an aura of smog surrounding it. As soon as I look into it’s lifeless sockets it releases an ear piercing shriek. I let go of the curtains and run to my door. I have to warn my parents and make sure my sister is safe. As soon as I open the door it’s in my hallway waiting. I freeze. The air turns icy. It slowly reaches one of it's long skinny arms towards me. I still can’t move. It has three long jagged fingers. Being this close, I can see that it's flesh is scarred, twisted and torn. Blacker than anything I’ve ever seen. It’s longest finger hooks under my jaw, and through my mouth. I try to scream but nothing but a wet gurgle comes out. A proud hum comes from the thing’s chest. It seems proud. It lifts me off my feet and pins me to the wall by my chin. It’s other hand slowly digs all three of it's dagger- like fingers into my neck. I’m choking now. It releases me, and I slide down the wall. It looks down at me and my vision starts to flicker. Then it turns, and with two long strides, sneaks into my parents bedroom. I try making any kind of noise to warn them, but nothing comes out. I hear muffled screaming. Then nothing. It pokes it’s head out of the door to make sure I’m still watching. Then it drags my parent’s bloodÆŽ corpses into the hallway. Their throats are slit. It lays them side by side in front of me. Only a foot away from my forehead. I squeeze my eyes shut and wish to dıe already. I feel claws on my eyes. It pinches my eyelids and with one fluid motion rips them both off. Everything burns. I can barely make out my parents’ faces through all the red. It leans down and presses it's cheek to theirs. The corners of it's dark mouth lift into a wicked grin. Everything goes black. I wake up in bed. It’s 12:04. There’s a creaking coming from the window.
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My friend was talking to a guy on the internet who started threatening that he would come to her house and hurt her. She has 3 little brothers, all of whom slept on her floor and outside her door for a week with nerf guns and water guns to make their big sister feel safe. Kids like this GMH Sunday, Oct 31 2010 ‱
GivesMeHope A few months ago, my dad and I were visiting New York. We saw a homeless mother with 3 young kids sitting by a doorway of a store. While the children were bundled up warm, the mother had only a thin flimsy jacket. Seeing this, my dad handed her a $100 bill, telling her to buy herself a coat. She cried from happiness. My dad’s generosity GMH. Mar 3rd, 2010
December 15, 2013 A Special Needs Family isn't always blood; it's the people in life who celebrate your joys, understand your pain, who love to see you smile, and those who wipe away the tears
The woest pain a mother can go theough is having to give her blessing back to Heaven... February 6, 2014
Mʀ. Kʀᎀʙs: [ɱᮀs᎘s] SᮘᮏɮɱᮇBᎏʙ, ᎛ʜᎇʀᎇ's sᎏᎍᎇ᎛ʜÉȘÉŽÉą áŽĄÊ€áŽÉŽÉą ᎥÉȘ᎛ʜ ʜÉȘs ᎇʏᎇ. SᮘᮏɮɱᮇBᎏʙ: Tʜᎀ᎛'s PʟᎀɎᎋ᎛ᎏɎ's ʀᎀʀᎇʟʏ sᮇᮇɮ sÉȘɎᎄᎇʀᎇ ғᎀᎄᎇ, Mʀ. Kʀᎀʙs, ᮀɮᮅ ÉȘᮛ ᮍᮇᮀɮs ғᎏʀ ᮏɮᮄᮇ ʜᎇ ÉȘs ᎛ᎇʟʟÉȘÉŽÉą ᎛ʜᎇ ᎛ʀ᎜᎛ʜ. Mʀ. Kʀᎀʙs: [᎛ᎇᎀʀʏ ᎇʏᎇᎅ] SᮘᮏɮɱᮇBᎏʙ: AᎥᎥ. Mʀ. Kʀᎀʙs: [sᎏʙs] Aʟʟ ʀÉȘÉąÊœáŽ›, I ʙ᎜ʏ ÉȘᮛ. [SᮘᮏɮɱᮇBᎏʙ ɱᮀs᎘s] PʟᎀɎᎋ᎛ᎏɎ: TʜᎀɎᎋ ʏᎏ᎜. Mʀ. Kʀᎀʙs: Nᮏᮡ ᎇᎠᎇʀʏᎏɎᎇ ʀᎇᎍᎇᎍʙᎇʀ, ғᎏʀ ᎛ʜᎇ ʀᎇsᮛ ᎏғ ᎛ʜᎇ ᎅᎀʏ, PʟᎀɎᎋ᎛ᎏɎ ÉȘs ᎛ʜᎇ— [s᎛ᎀᎍᎍᎇʀs] PʟᎀɎᎋ᎛ᎏɎ's ʙᎏss.
đ“Łđ“±đ“Čđ“·đ“°đ“Œ 𝔀𝓼 đ“Œđ“±đ“žđ“Ÿđ“”đ“­ đ“»đ“žđ“¶đ“Șđ“·đ“œđ“Č𝓬đ“Č𝔃𝓼: đ“«đ“źđ“Čđ“·đ“° đ“Ș đ“¶đ“žđ“œđ“±đ“źđ“» & đ“«đ“źđ“Čđ“·đ“° đ“Œđ“žđ“¶đ“źđ“«đ“žđ“­đ”‚'đ“Œ 𝔀đ“Č𝓯𝓼. àŹ“
Today was my birthday. My daughter came running into my room and said she had a surprise for me. As I stepped out of my room, I started to cry and she screamed "Do you like it?" It was my husband, home from Iraq - just for my birthday. Dan and Julia, your gift and love for me GMH. June 21st, 2010, 3:30 PM
March 27th, 2010, 4:37 PM A few years ago, I was with my parents grocery shopping. My mom told my dad to “go and pick up anything he wants”. Without a word, he picked up my mom. Their LGMH.
April 30th, 2010, 8:14 PM Today, my mom had a baby girl. Girl, no boy will ever hurt you, 'cause if they do, you have 9 older brothers who will ruin the chances of that kid ever reproducing. Love, your eldest brother. LGMH
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r/TwoSentenceHorror 3 hr. ago Personal-Tea7226 I stood and looked at myself in the mirror When my reflection mouthed “it’s behind you!”
Losing Carrie Carrie’s parents were deep in mourning They had lost their daughter, without warning Her mom moaned and wailed in deep sorrow Her dad would call the funeral home tomorrow Her mom looked down and in her head She wondered, if Carrie could, what she would have said If she could speak to them now, reach into their hearts Tell them how they would cope, where could they start? Her father looked down also and in his head His mind was racing with a sense of dread See, if Carrie could talk what she really would have said Is, ‘Mom, please help me, he knows I’m not dead.’
Messages Mom Feb 22, 2012 7:06 AM Good morning beautiful :) xoxo your imaginary boyfriend Thanks mom. >
Mom Today 14 oct 10:58 AM Sorry Mom, called you by accident! That's okay Had vou by accident
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