Poisoncore Emojis & Text

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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.
Candies, BY: sudhanvaah Isn't it sad how these days you can't even give a kid a candy without drawing accusatory glares as if you were a creep? Well, I decided not to care about the glares. The joy of knowing that I just made a kid's day is worth getting glared at. Sometimes parents smile and ask the kid to say thanks. But most times, they say "No thank you" and return the candies to me and walk on. I say to them, "I'll eat them" and proceed to eat one of them to show they aren't poisoned or anything. Some apologise and accept the candies, some walk on. I offered a candy to a young boy of 4 or 5 today. His mother said in a cold voice, "Stay away from my son." As per my routine, I ate the candy in front of her. A minute later I realised as the poison spread through my body that I'd forgotten to take the antidote this morning. @scarystorieswoah
🇮🇪 Anne MAGOURTY charged with the murder (by poison) of her stepson, Patrick Magourty at Teebane, on the 16th of February 1877. 🇮🇪
The Cork Constitution, 22 November 1886 DEATH FROM ACCIDENTAL POISONING. ————— On Saturday Mr. Coroner Blake and a jury held an inquest at 4, York road, Blackpool, on a child named Timothy Donovan, aged 6½ years (the son of a cattle dealer), who had been accidentally poisoned. . . .
pls note the ai inflicts emotional damage (ᵕ—ᴗ—)
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THE CONNAUGHT JOURNAL TRALEE, DEC. 1 - A melancholy case of poison occurred on Saturday last. A man employed to poison rats at Oak-park, the seat of John Bateman, Esq., incautiously left behind him a cake made up for this purpose. A young woman named Ellen Moriarty, who lived at the Rock, in this town, and who received occasional employment at Oak-park, observing the cake, asked, and obtained permission of the maid servant to take it away; having returned home, and baked the cake, she ate some portion of it, and in two minutes after was taken violently ill. She remained in dreadful tortures for six or seven hours, when she expired, at the infirmary, whither she had been conveyed. The cake was composed of flour, sugar and arsenic. We understand that the unhappy sufferer was to have been married on the very day on which her existence so miserably terminated. Galway, Monday, December 6, 1824
I miss my papa ✨ I really wish I didn't poison him
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?
_aconite_cj_ "Honey, what's wrong? Why ain't you touching your food?" She asked calmly, without knowin I saw her mix the poison in my soup moments ago.
Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 2 yr. ago GuyAwks More Unsolicited Parenting Advice We’ve all run into those insufferable types before in our lives. You know the kind. Total strangers who somehow think they’ve earned the right to micro-manage how you raise your kids just seconds after meeting you. And the kicker is when they aren’t even parents themselves. What would they know? After a long afternoon of dropping items into a shopping cart, me and my preschooler had almost finished the weekly grocery haul. We were on our way to the checkout counter when a lady at a near- by promotional kiosk summoned my attention. “Hello ma’am, could I please have a moment of your time?” the apron-clad woman chirped from behind her booth. Spying the unfinished Coke Zero can Ivy was drinking, this lady scrunched up her face in disapproval. The next words out of her mouth made my blood boil. “I see that your little princess is drinking a canned soda. Ooh, that’s not so great. Have you considered trying our special, 100% natural vitamin juices? Here, try a sample.” Instantly, her hand shot out with a small plastic cup filled with liquid. Taken aback by her boldness I tried to remain somewhat polite. “Thank you, but we’re not interested,” I answered curtly. Something was so unsettling about her fake smile and shrill enthusiasm. “A girl as young as her shouldn’t be drinking soda. It’s full of sugars and unhealthy preservatives. Let me throw that away for you-” Without any hesitation, she reached down to pry the can out of my daughter’s hands. I could not believe the audacity of this woman. “Excuse me!” I snapped, finally losing my composure. “How dare you try and take my daughter’s drink!” “But miss, this is much healthier for your angel,” protested the creepy woman waving her strange-looking syrup at us. “Surely you don’t want her to be sickened by all those dangerous chemicals-” “If you don’t leave us alone, I will report you to the supervisor!” With that, we turned and began strolling away from said relentless salesperson. Only once we were in- to the parking lot did I feel myself calming down. Gosh, that lady really freaked me out. What are the odds someone would randomly try to discard my daughter’s soda on today of all days. The one day I chose to put poisson in it. That rare, traceless toxin I slipped into her soda can earlier today cost me a fortune to order from overseas. The bubbles from the carbonation mask any taste of the thing, making it the perfect delivery system for it. My oblivious daughter would've been dēαd within the hour.. Oh, how I wish people would keep their parenting advice to themselves. It’s not needed. I know how to kıll my own kid just fine, thank you very much!
ᴳᵒᵗ ᵃ ˢⁿᵃᵏᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ˢᵗᵒᵐᵖᵉᵈ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉᵉˡ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵒᵒᵗ ᵘᵖᵒⁿ ⁱᵗ‧ ᴸᵃᵗᵉʳ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗ⸴ ᵃˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᶠᵘᵈᵈˡᵉᵈ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ ʳᵃᶜᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵃᵗᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴾᵃ‧ "ᔆᵒⁿ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵒʷ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ⸴ ˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᵒˡᵈ ᵇᵒᵒᵗˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ 'ᵉᵐ⸴ ᵐᵃᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᶠᵃᶜᵗ‧ ᵂᵉ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ʰⁱᵐ ʷᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ ᵂᵉˡˡ⸴ ᴵ ʳᵉᶜᵏᵒⁿ ʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ ᴴᵉʳᵉ—" ᴹᵃ⸴ ʷⁱᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵗᵉᵃʳ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰᵉʳ ˢᵉᵃᵐᵉᵈ ᵒˡᵈ ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏ⸴ ʰᵃⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃⁱʳ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵒᵒᵗˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵃˢ ᵃⁿ ʰᵉⁱʳˡᵒᵒᵐ‧ ᴴᵉ ʷᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵖʳⁱᵈᵉ‧ ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʷʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ʰᵉ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵐʸˢᵗᵉʳⁱᵒᵘˢ ˢʰᵃᵈᵉ‧ ᴰʳᵉˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ⸴ ʰⁱˢ ⁿᵉʷˡʸ ʷⁱᵈᵒʷᵉᵈ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ʰᵘᵍᵍᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˢᵒⁿ‧ "ᴮᵒʸ⸴ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵈᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵒᵗˢ ᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ᵈⁱᵈ‧ ᵀᵃᵏᵉ ᶜᵃʳᵉ‧‧‧" ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵒᵒʳ ᵇᵒʸ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵐᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵐᵉ ᶠᵃᵗᵉ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ʰᵉˡᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵒᵗˢ‧ ᴸᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉˡʸ⸴ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ ʰᵉʳ ᵉʸᵉ‧ ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ᶠᵃⁿᵍᵉᵈ ᵗᵒᵒᵗʰ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁿᵃᵏᵉ⸴ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵛᵉⁿᵒᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵒⁱˢᵒⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ‧ ᴸᵒᵈᵍᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵐᵇᵉᵈᵈᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵒᵗˢ‧

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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.
Mᴀʀʟᴀ's ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ʜᴀs ᴍᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴡɴ ᴏғ Rɪᴠᴇʀ Fᴀʟʟs, ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ʟɪᴠᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪɢ ᴄɪᴛʏ. Oɴᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ sʜᴇ ғɪɴᴅs ᴀ sᴛʀᴀʏ ᴄᴀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴛ ɴᴀᴍɪɴɢ ɪᴛ Mɪsᴛʏ. Tʜᴇ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴅᴀʏ, Mᴀʀʟᴀ ɪs ᴘʀᴇᴘᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ᴏᴜᴛsɪᴅᴇ ʙᴜᴛ Mɪsᴛʏ ʙᴇɢɪɴs ʜɪssɪɴɢ. Mᴀʀʟᴀ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇs ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀʏ ɪɴsɪᴅᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ Mɪsᴛʏ ᴄᴀʟᴍ. Tʜᴀᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ Mᴀʀʟᴀ ɪs ᴀᴡᴏᴋᴇɴ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜᴇʀ sʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴡʜᴇɴ Mɪsᴛʏ sɪᴛs ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ғᴀᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ sᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀs. Tʜᴇ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴅᴀʏ, Mᴀʀʟᴀ ɪs ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪɢʜ ᴅɪᴠᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴇ ғᴇʟᴛ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙʀᴜsʜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʟᴇɢs. Sʜᴇ ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴛʀɪᴘs ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ᴅʀᴏᴡɴs. As ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴘᴀssᴇs, Mᴀʀʟᴀ sᴛᴀʀᴛs ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʟʏ. Sʜᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴠᴇs ᴛᴜɴᴀ ᴄᴀssᴇʀᴏʟᴇ. Aᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ, sʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀs ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀs, ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ ᴡᴀɴᴛs ᴛᴏ sᴛᴇᴀʟ ʜᴇʀ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ɪᴛ ʜᴀs ʟɪᴠᴇᴅ ɴɪɴᴇ ʟɪᴠᴇs. Tʜᴇ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ, sʜᴇ's ᴜɴᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴ ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛ sʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍɪɴɢ. Lᴀᴛᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ, Mᴀʀʟᴀ ʙᴇɢɪɴs ᴀᴅᴅɪɴɢ ᴀʟʟ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛs ᴜᴘ, ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴇ ᴍᴜsᴛ ɢᴇᴛ ʀɪᴅ ᴏғ Mɪsᴛʏ. Mᴀʀʟᴀ ᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟ sʜᴇʟᴛᴇʀ, ʙᴜᴛ Mɪsᴛʏ sᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ɪᴛ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ʜᴏᴍᴇ. Mᴀʀʟᴀ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜᴛ Mɪsᴛʏ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴄᴀɢᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴏɴ ᴀ ʙᴜs ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟɪɴɢ ғᴀʀ ᴀᴡᴀʏ. Mᴀʀʟᴀ ᴘᴜᴛs Mɪsᴛʏ's ᴄᴀɢᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀsᴋᴇᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғʀᴏɴᴛ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ʙɪᴋᴇ. Wʜɪʟᴇ Mᴀʀʟᴀ sᴛᴏᴘs ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅʀɪɴᴋ, Mɪsᴛʏ ɪs ʀᴜɴ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʙʏ ᴀ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇʀ, ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴛ sᴇᴇᴍs ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴇsᴄᴀᴘᴇᴅ. Mᴀʀʟᴀ ɪs ʀᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴇᴍɪɴɢʟʏ ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀsᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴅᴇᴍɪsᴇ. Hᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ Mᴀʀʟᴀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ ᴀ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ ʟɪᴠᴇs ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ...
‘Seeing Red (The First Day of School)’ by Zenryhao Everyone loves the first day of school, right? New year, new classes, new friends. I like the first day of school for a different reason, though. You see, I have a sort of power. When I look at people, I can…sense a sort of aura around them. A colour outline based on how long that person has to live. Most everyone I meet around my age is surrounded by a solid green hue, which means they have plenty of time left. A fair amount of them have a yellow orange tinge to their auras, which tends to mean a disease or fire; some tragedy. Anything that takes people “before their time” as they say. The real fun is when the auras venture into the red end of the spectrum, though. Every now and again I’ll see someone who’s basically a stoplight. Those are the ones who get in a car crash, or even a victim of crime. It’s such a rush to see them and know their time is numbered. With that in mind, I always get to class very early so I can scout out my classmates’ fates. The first kid who came in was basically radiating red. I tsk tsk tsk. Huh. But as people kept walking in, they all had the same intense red glow. I finally caught a glimpse of my own fading reflection in the window, but I was too stunned to move. Our professor stepped in and locked the door, his aura a sickening shade of green...
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

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

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..."
⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢛⠩⢤⣶⡤⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⡇⠺⠏⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠻⣿⠟⠀⢚⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⢛⣛⣛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣄⣼⣿⣿⣿⡿⢟⣉⠥⢤⣬⣀⣉⣙⠛⠛⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣤⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⡡⠶⡟⠋⣭⠛⡟⠛⠿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣡⠆⠁⠀⢠⡟⡝⣩⡍⡛⡟⠙⠲⢄⢙⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢡⣤⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⣠⡀⠀⠹⢦⣤⡴⠃⠀⢔⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣯⡉⠁⠀⠀⠘⣧⡁⠉⠅⣡⠇⠀⠀⢀⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⢩⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣔⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣲⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣛⡻ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠁⠀⣀⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣵⣮⣥ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠉⡁⣀⣈⣩⠝⢉⡻⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿ ⡿⡭⢤⣶⣬⠽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡻⣥⠀⠙⠿⠃⢀⣲⣾⣾⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⣀⣉⡛⠻ ⣿⣄⣀⡛⠁⢀⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣷⡀⢀⣤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢋⡀⠐⠀⡴⢋⡉⢿⡁ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⣤⠤⠤⣤⡤⣀⡙⠻⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⢧⣈⣍⡸⠃ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡅⣾⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⢇⠀⠛⢀⡇⠀⠈⢙⣷⣿⣿⣷⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴ ⣿⣿⠿⠛⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣟⣚⣀⣀⣀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠀⢀⣠⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⣾⣿ ⡿⠋⠤⠶⠀⢀⡙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⡀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⣿⣿ ⠀⡴⡻⡋⠓⡄⠈⠉⠒⣝⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⣉⣤⣤⣤⣀⡉⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣸⣿⣿ ⠀⢧⡁⠛⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⢈⡼⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣸⣿⡿⠃⠐⢉⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠂⠠⢤⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠉⠉⠁⠀⢀⣠⣾⣿⣶⢾⠛⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠐⢀⠔⠋⠁⢰⡟⠡⢒⣒⠤⡄⣀⣀⣀⠉⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣶⣦⡄⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣊⠑⠲⠚⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢀⢴⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠃⠹⠿⢁⢁⣿⠀⠀⠉⠹⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣷⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣀⣑⣈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠶⣤⣥⠤⠞⠃⠀⠀⠐⠀⣪⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡄⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⢴⣶⠊⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣦⣬⡁⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣴⣾⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠋⠙⢋⣛⣛ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⣁⣤⡤⠦⠀⠤⢤⣄⣀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣤⣤⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⢀⢠⠴⣶⣭⣭⣯⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢁⠴⠋⠁⡞⠀⢢⣤⡄⡀⢳⠈⠙⠷⣤⡀⠉⢻⣿⣿⣽⠀⠈⠋⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⣠⣄⣬⠿⠟⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠈⠉ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⢃⠄⠀⠀⠀⢧⡀⠘⠛⡃⢁⡾⠀⠀⠀⠈⠟⢶⣾⣿⣿⣿⡇⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡇⢀⢀⡼⠞⠉⣠⣤⠴⠶⠶⠤⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⡿⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠶⠤⠴⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣼⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⣴⡽⠋⠀⣠⠞⠉⠀⠀⣀⣀⠀⠈⠙⢦⡀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣧⣪⣦⣀⣀⠀⠀⢂⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⡇⢠⡾⠋⠁⠀⢠⡟⠀⢀⠜⢀⣠⣀⠈⢤⠀⠈⣷⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡕⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⡟⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠈⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⢀⠄⠀⣿⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣇⠀⠀⠢⡈⠛⠋⢀⡔⠀⠀⡟⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢣⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢧⣄⠀⠀⠁⠈⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡟⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠲⠶⠶⠒⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡵⠷⠒⠒⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⢠⡤⠀⠀⣀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣤⣀⡀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡔⢠ ⣿⣁⡤⠎⠁⠀⠀⡞⠀⣵⡇⡌⡇⠉⠐⠠⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣷⣦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿ ⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠱⣄⡉⣁⡱⠃⠀⠀⠀⠈⠪⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠛⠉⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣄⣀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⢀⣴⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠈⢿⣷⠒⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣤⣀⣤⣤⣀⣈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣿
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...
I ʜᴀᴅ ᴀɴ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴀʀʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴀs ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ. Wᴇ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇᴅ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ғᴏʀ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ. Mʏ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴀʀʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴇᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴍʏ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ɪɴ ᴀ sᴇɴsᴇ ᴏғ sᴀᴅɴᴇss. Eᴠᴇɴᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ʏᴇᴀʀs ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ I ᴅᴜɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍʏ ᴍᴜᴍ's ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴛʀᴇᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅs ғᴏʀ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴀᴘᴇʀᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴡʜᴇɴ I sᴀᴡ ᴀ sᴛɪʟʟʙᴏʀɴ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪғɪᴄᴀᴛᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡʙᴏʀɴ ᴡʜᴏ sʜᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ. I ᴛʜᴇɴ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ I ᴡᴀs ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴀ ᴛᴡɪɴ ᴀs ᴍʏ ᴍᴜᴍ ᴇxᴘʟᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ɪᴛ ᴅɪᴇᴅ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴏᴜʀ ʙɪʀᴛʜ.
Jᴇʟʟʏ_Bᴇᴀɴ36 I ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴀʏ ᴡʜᴇɴ I ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴏᴜɴᴛᴀɪɴ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴀs ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀʀᴋ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴀʏ ᴏғ ɪᴍᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟɪᴛʏ. Nᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ʀᴀᴄᴇ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡɪᴘᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ I'ᴍ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ.
ʳ/ˢᶜᵃʳʸˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ¹⁵ ʰʳ‧ ᵃᵍᵒ ᴰʳᵉᵃᵈ_ᴿᵉᵃᵖᵉʳ_ ᵀʰᵉ ᴾˡᵃʸᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᴵⁿ ᵃ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗ⸴ ᵃᵇᵃⁿᵈᵒⁿᵉᵈ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉᶜʰᵒ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃˡˡˢ‧ ᴼⁿᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ᵃ ʲᵃⁿⁱᵗᵒʳ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᶠᵃⁱⁿᵗ ᵍⁱᵍᵍˡᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖˡᵃʸᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ⸴ ʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ˢʷⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵐᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵒʷⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵃᵈᵒʷˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ᵖˡᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵒᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʷⁱⁿᵍˢ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ˢⁱⁿⁱˢᵗᵉʳ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳˢ⸴ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵈ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ‧ ᵀʰᵉⁿ⸴ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʷⁱⁿᵍˢ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵏᵉᵈ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗˡʸ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰᵒˡˡᵒʷ ᵉʸᵉˢ⸴ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ⸴ "ʲᵒⁱⁿ ᵘˢ ᶠᵒʳᵉᵛᵉʳ‧"
☠️🌿
ʳ/ᵀʷᵒᔆᵉⁿᵗᵉⁿᶜᵉᴴᵒʳʳᵒʳ ³ ᵈᵃʸˢ ᵃᵍᵒ ᴿᵉᶜᵒᵍⁿⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿᴵˡˡ⁷¹⁰⁷ ᴳʳᵃⁿᵈᵖᵃ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ʷᵃʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵘˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵉˡˡ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒᵒᵈˢ ᶜˡᵃⁱᵐⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ʰᵃᵘⁿᵗᵉᵈ‧ ᵂᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉˢ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵘˢ "ˡᵉᵗ ᵘˢ ᵒᵘᵗ⸴ ˡᵉᵗ ᵘˢ ᵒᵘᵗ⸴ ˡᵉᵗ ᵘˢ ᵒᵘᵗ‧‧‧"
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Wʜᴇɴ ᴍʏ sᴏɴ ᴀsᴋᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜʏ I ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴋᴇᴘᴛ ᴍʏ ᴇʏᴇs ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ, I ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sʜᴏᴡ ʜɪᴍ ᴡʜʏ. As ʜᴇ ʜᴀʀᴅᴇɴᴇᴅ, I ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛᴛᴇᴅ sʜᴏᴡɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ᴀs I ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴏɴᴇ...
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‧
StressedAfraid_ My husband and I watched our daughter play in the park. We knew she was the perfect one to take home.
ᴼⁿˡʸ ᵀᵃᵏᵉ ᴼⁿᵉ ᴾⁱᵉᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵃⁿᵈʸ ᴳᵒ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵒʳᵗˢᶜᵃʳʸˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ʳ/ˢʰᵒʳᵗˢᶜᵃʳʸˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᶠᵒʳᵍᵒᵗᵗᵉⁿᵂᵉˡˡ ᴼⁿˡʸ ᵀᵃᵏᵉ ᴼⁿᵉ ᴾⁱᵉᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵃⁿᵈʸ “ᴴᵒⁿᵉʸ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ’ʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ‧” “ᴵ’ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐⁱˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒⁿ ᶠʳᵉᵉ ᶜᵃⁿᵈʸ‧” ᴳʳᵃⁿᵗ ˢˡᵃᵐᵐᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃʳᵃᵍᵉ‧ ᴵᵗ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵐᵃᵗᵗᵉʳ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵗᵒᵒ ᵒˡᵈ⸴ ʰᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ᵃ ᵇʳⁱˡˡⁱᵃⁿᵗ ⁱᵈᵉᵃ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵇⁱᵏᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵒᶠᶠ‧ ᴮˡᵒᶜᵏ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵇˡᵒᶜᵏ⸴ ʰᵉ ˢᶜᵃⁿⁿᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵒʳᶜʰᵉˢ‧ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ʲᵃᶜᵏᵖᵒᵗ‧ ᴬ ᵖᵒʳᶜʰ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᵍⁱᵍᵃⁿᵗⁱᶜ ᵇᵒʷˡ ᶠᵘˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵃⁿᵈʸ‧ ᴬ ˢⁱᵍⁿᵉᵈ ʷᵃʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ˢⁱⁿᵍˡᵉ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵃⁿᵈʸ‧ ᴳʳᵃⁿᵗ ᵈᵘᵐᵖᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵗⁱʳᵉ ᵇᵒʷˡ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵖⁱˡˡᵒʷᶜᵃˢᵉ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ˢᵗᵒᵐᵃᶜʰ ʳᵘᵐᵇˡᵉᵈ‧ ᴬˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇⁱᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵃᵈ ʷᵒʳᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ʰⁱˢ ᵃᵖᵖᵉᵗⁱᵗᵉ‧ ᴳʳᵃⁿᵗ ᵖᵘˡˡᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃ ᴮᵃᵇʸ ᴿᵘᵗʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜʰᵒʷᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵗᵒˢˢᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʳᵃᵖᵖᵉʳ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵒʳᶜʰ‧ ᵀʰⁱˢ ʷᵃˢ ⁿᵒ ᵒʳᵈⁱⁿᵃʳʸ ᶜᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵇᵃʳ‧ ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ’ᵈ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵉᵃᵗᵉⁿ! ᴴᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ! ᴬ ᴹⁱˡᵏʸ ᵂᵃʸ‧ ᵀʰᵉⁿ ᵃ ᴷⁱᵗ ᴷᵃᵗ‧ ᔆᵒ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ! ᵀʰᵉ ᵇᵃʳˢ ᵈⁱᵈ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵘˡˡ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵘⁿᵍᵉʳ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵏᵉᵖᵗ ᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴾⁱᵉᶜᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉ⸴ ᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃˢᵗ! ᴴᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ’ᵗ ˢᵗᵒᵖ‧ ᴴᵉ ʳᵉᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵖⁱˡˡᵒʷᶜᵃˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵉᵐᵖᵗʸ‧ ᔆᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ⸴ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵗᵒᵐᵃᶜʰ ᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵘʳⁿᵗ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵏⁿᵉˡᵗ ᵒᵛᵉʳ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵃᵍᵒⁿⁱᶻⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵉⁿˢᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵘᵖ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵖⁱⁿᵉ⸴ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈ‧ ᴱᵃᶜʰ ᶠⁱⁿᵍᵉʳ ʰᵃᵈ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵖˡᵃᶜᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᶜʰᵒᶜᵒˡᵃᵗᵉ ᵇᵃʳ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵒᵛᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵍᵉʳˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍʳᵃᵇ ʰⁱˢ ʷʳⁱˢᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃˢ ᶜᵃⁿᵈʸ ᵇᵃʳˢ ᵃˢ ʷᵉˡˡ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐˢ ʷᵉʳᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵉᵍˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶜᵒˡˡᵃᵖˢᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃ ᵗʰᵒᵘˢᵃⁿᵈ ᶜʰᵒᶜᵒˡᵃᵗᵉ ᵇᵃʳˢ ᶜᵒˡˡⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᶜᵃᵗᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᵀʷᵒ ᵏⁱᵈˢ ʷᵃˡᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ‧ “ᵂʰᵒᵃ! ᶠᵘˡˡ ˢⁱᶻᵉ ᵇᵃʳˢ?” “ᴵˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵃˢᵗ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳ?” “ᵂʰʸ?” “ᴵ’ᵐ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵒⁿᵉ‧‧‧”
ᴸᵃᵗᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳⁿᵒᵒⁿ⸴ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ʳᵉᵃᵈʸ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃˢ ʷᵃⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉˡᵉᵛᵃᵗᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵒᵒʳ ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ⁱᵗ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᶠˡᵒᵒʳ⸴ ⁱᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᶠᵘˡˡ‧ ᴼⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ⁱⁿˢⁱᵈᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ “ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ’ˢ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᶠᵒʳ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵐᵒʳᵉ‧” ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈʳⁱᵛᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳˢᵉ‧ “ᴺᵒ⸴ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ⸴ ᴵ’ˡˡ ʷᵃⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ‧” ᵀʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳˢ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉˡᵉᵛᵃᵗᵒʳ ᵇᵉᵍᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵉˢᶜᵉⁿᵈ‧ ᴹᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ˡᵃᵗᵉʳ⸴ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵃ ᵗᵉʳʳⁱᵇˡᵉ ᶜʳᵃˢʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵒᵘᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᶜʳᵉᵃᵐˢ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵉˡᵉᵛᵃᵗᵒʳ ʰᵃᵈ ᶜᵒˡˡᵃᵖˢᵉᵈ‧ ᴬˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ⁱⁿˢⁱᵈᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵏⁱˡˡᵉᵈ‧ [ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᔆᶜᵃʳʸ ᔆᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵀᵉˡˡ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᴰᵃʳᵏ⸴ ᵇʸ ᴬˡᵛⁱⁿ ᔆᶜʰʷᵃʳᵗᶻ]
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.
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.

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.
🗝 🔦 🗝 | ⏳ 👁 ⏳ | 🗝 🔦 🗝
💓●💜❤ӄɨʟʟɛʀ❤️💜●💓
t̫͍̥͉̳ͅa͙̲ke̹͇͘ ͇̦̲̤͙m̠͡y̧̗̦̪̣͖̣ ͉͍̬̘͡h͔̭ͅa̹͔̯͖̯͉͔͠n̳̭̬̬̼̞̲d͔̹̰͈
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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...
ʳ/ᵗʰʳᵉᵉˢᵉⁿᵗᵉⁿᶜᵉʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ ᵂᵉⁱʳᵈ⁻ᴺᵉᵖʰᵉʷ “ᴵˢ ⁱᵗ ᶜᵒᵒˡ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗʳᵃᵛᵉˡᵉʳ?” ʰᵉ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ‧ ᴵ ʳᵉᵖˡⁱᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ⸴ “ʸᵉᵃʰ‧‧‧” ᴵ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʷᵒ ᵐᵒⁿᵗʰˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ ᴱᵃʳᵗʰ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵍᵒ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵃ ⁿᵘᶜˡᵉᵃʳ ʷᵃʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵃˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵈᵉᵃᵈ‧
🥩★彡ω1єя∂¢σяє彡★🥩
⛓ 🩸 ⛓ 🩸 ⛓ 🩸 ⛓ 🩸
🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍
⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🏼🏼🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🟥🟥🟥🏼🏼🏼🏼🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🟥🟥🟥🏼🏼🏼⬜⬜🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🟥🟥🟥🏼🏼⬜🟩🟩🏼🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛ ⬜⬜⬜⬛🟥🟥🟥🏼🏼🏼⬜🟩🟩🏼🟩🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛ ⬜⬜⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🏼🏼🏼🏼⬜⬜🏼⬜🏼🟥🟥🟥⬛ ⬜⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🏼🏼🏼🟥🟥🏼🏼⬛🟥🟥🟥⬛ ⬛🟥🟥⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🏼🏼🏼🏼🏼⬛⬛🟥🟥⬛⬜ ⬛🟥⬛🏼🏼🏼🏼🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🏼🏼🟥🟥⬛⬜ ⬜⬛🟩🏼🏼⬛🏼🏼🟥🏼🏼🏼🏼🏼🏼🟥🟥🏼🟩⬛ ⬜⬛🟩🟩⬛⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🏼🟩🟩⬛🟥⬛🟩🟩⬛ ⬜⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛ ⬜⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛⬜⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬜⬛🟩🟩🟩⬛ ⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬜⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬛⬜ ⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜
“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.
My best friend has the most beautiful hair. People always comment on it. This year, when my mom was diagnosed with cancer, she was the first person I told. A week later she came into school with all of it gone. Mar 19, 2011 at 5:00pm by Rebecca, California
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
__________________________________________________________________________ Periodic Table of Elements __________________________________________________________________________ 1A 2A 3A 4A 5A 6A 7A 8A ----- ----- 1 | H | |He | |---+---- --------------------+---| 2 |Li |Be | | B | C | N | O | F |Ne | |---+---| |---+---+---+---+---+---| 3 |Na |Mg |3B 4B 5B 6B 7B | 8B |1B 2B |Al |Si | P | S |Cl |Ar | |---+---+---------------------------------------+---+---+---+---+---+---| 4 | K |Ca |Sc |Ti | V |Cr |Mn |Fe |Co |Ni |Cu |Zn |Ga |Ge |As |Se |Br |Kr | |---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---| 5 |Rb |Sr | Y |Zr |Nb |Mo |Tc |Ru |Rh |Pd |Ag |Cd |In |Sn |Sb |Te | I |Xe | |---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---| 6 |Cs |Ba |LAN|Hf |Ta | W |Re |Os |Ir |Pt |Au |Hg |Tl |Pb |Bi |Po |At |Rn | |---+---+---+------------------------------------------------------------ 7 |Fr |Ra |ACT| ===--------------------------------------------------------------------=== Lanthanide |La |Ce |Pr |Nd |Pm |Sm |Eu |Gd |Tb |Dy |Ho |Er |Tm |Yb |Lu | |---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---| Actinide |Ac |Th |Pa | U |Np |Pu |Am |Cm |Bk |Cf |Es |Fm |Md |No |Lw | ------------------------------------------------------------- __________________________________________________________________________
Saturday 20 October 2012 Teacher's Day SMS Teacher's Day SMS → уσυ αяє тнє вєѕт тєα¢нєя ιη тнιѕ ωσяℓ∂. ωнєяєνєя ι мαу gσ ιη му ℓιƒє, ι ωιℓℓ αℓωαуѕ яємємвєя тнαт ι нα∂ αη єχ¢єℓℓєηт gυι∂є ιη тнє ƒσям σƒ α тєα¢нєя, уσυ. → ωнєη ιт ¢σмєѕ тσ тєα¢нιηg ησ σηє ¢αη ¢σмρєтє ωιтн уσυ. нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу. → ∂єαя тєα¢нєя, тнαηкѕ ƒσя мαкιηg υѕ ωнαт ωє αяє тσ∂αу. нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу → уσυ gυι∂є∂ мє ωнєη ι ωαѕ ℓσѕт уσυ ѕυρσятє∂ мє ωнєη ι ωαѕ ωєαк уσυ нανє єηℓιgнтєηє∂ мє αℓℓ тняσυgн.. → тσ∂αу . ωнαт ι αм ιѕ נυѕт вє¢αυѕє σƒ уσυ ѕιя нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу → ι мαу ησт ѕαу ιт αℓωαуѕ. вυт, ι мєαη ιт ωнєηєνєя ι ѕαу ιт. тнαηк уσυ тєα¢нєя ƒσя αℓℓ тнє тнιηgѕ тєα¢нєя нανє ∂σηє ƒσя мє. нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу! → уσυ αяє α ωση∂єяƒυℓ тєα¢нєя ωнσ ρяσνє∂ тнαт ℓєαяηιηg ¢αη вє נσуσυѕ αη∂ ρℓєαѕαηт єχρєяιєη¢є ωιѕнιηg уσυ α нαρρу тєα¢нєя’ѕ ∂αу → ι ƒσυη∂ gυι∂αη¢є, ƒяιєη∂ѕнιρ, ∂ιѕ¢ιρℓιηє αη∂ ℓσνє, єνєяутнιηg, ιη σηє ρєяѕση. αη∂ тнαт ρєяѕση ιѕ уσυ (ηαмє σƒ уσυя тєα¢нєя) “нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу!” → тєα¢нιηg ѕнσυℓ∂ вє ƒυℓℓ σƒ ι∂єαѕ ιηѕтєα∂ σƒ ѕтυƒƒє∂ ωιтн ƒα¢тѕ. нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу → тнє αωαя∂ ƒσя тнє мσѕт ωση∂єяƒυℓ тєα¢нєя нαѕ вєєη ∂є¢ℓαяє∂ αη∂ ιт gσєѕ тσ уσυ. нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу!! → ωє αяє ƒσятυηαтє ωє нα∂ α тєα¢нєя αѕ ωση∂єяƒυℓ ℓσνιηg αη∂ ¢αяιηg αѕ уσυ.... нαρρу тєα¢нєя\'ѕ ∂αу...!! → тнαηкѕ ƒσя вєιηg α тяυє мєηтσя σƒ συя нєαятѕ. нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу → ωє ωιℓℓ αℓωαуѕ вє тнαηкƒυℓ тσ уσυ ƒσя αℓℓ тнє нαя∂ ωσяк αη∂ єƒƒσятѕ уσυ нανє ρυт ιη, ƒσя є∂υ¢αтιηg υѕ. “нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу!” → тєα¢нєя ιѕ α ρєяѕση ωнσ αℓωαуѕ нєℓρѕ єνєяувσ∂у тσ gєт тнє кησωℓє∂gє αη∂ αℓωαуѕ ѕтαη∂ѕ вєѕι∂є тнє ѕтυ∂єηтѕ ωнєη тнєу нανє ρяσвℓємѕ тнαηкѕ ƒσя вєιηg тнєяє мα∂αм/ѕιя…. “нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу” → тнє ∂яєαм вєgιηѕ ωιтн α тєα¢нєя ωнσ вєℓιєνєѕ ιη уσυ, ωнσ тυgѕ αη∂ ρυѕнєѕ αη∂ ℓєα∂ѕ уσυ тσ тнє ηєχт ρℓαтєαυ, ѕσмєтιмєѕ ρσкιηg уσυ ωιтн α ѕнαяρ ѕтι¢к ¢αℓℓє∂ “тяυтн. → мαу ησт ѕαу ιт αℓωαуѕ вυт, ι мєαη ιт ωнєηєνєя ι ѕαу ιт. тнαηк уσυ тєα¢нєя ƒσя αℓℓ тнє тнιηgѕ уσυ нανє ∂σηє ƒσя мє. нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу! → тнє тяυє тєα¢нєя ∂єƒєη∂ѕ нιѕ ρυριℓѕ αgαιηѕт нιѕ σωη ρєяѕσηαℓ ιηƒℓυєη¢є. нє ιηѕριяєѕ ѕєℓƒ-∂ιѕтяυѕт. нє gυι∂єѕ тнєιя єуєѕ ƒяσм нιмѕєℓƒ тσ тнє ѕριяιт тнαт qυι¢кєηѕ нιм. нє ωιℓℓ нανє ησ ∂ιѕ¢ιρℓє. → α gσσ∂ тєα¢нєя ιѕ α мαѕтєя σƒ ѕιмρℓιƒι¢αтιση αη∂ αη єηєму σƒ ѕιмρℓιѕм. → тнє ωαу уσυ тєα¢н… тнє кησωℓє∂gє уσυ ѕнαяє… тнє ¢αяє уσυ тαкє… тнє ℓσνє уσυ ѕнσωєя.. мαкєѕ уσυ… тнє ωσяℓ∂’ѕ вєѕт тєα¢нєя… “нαρρу тєα¢нєя’ѕ ∂αу!” → яємємвєя αℓℓ ωσя∂ѕ нє ѕαу ωσя∂ѕ тσ мαкє уσυ ѕσ¢ιαℓ ωσя∂ѕ тσ мαкє уσυ ѕρє¢ιαℓ нє ιѕ συя тєα¢нєя нє ιѕ συя gυι∂є ℓєтѕ мαкє нιм ƒєєℓ ρяι∂є → тнє вєѕт тєα¢нєя ιѕ тнє σηє ωнσ ѕυggєѕтѕ яαтнєя тнαη ∂σgмαтιzєѕ, αη∂ ιηѕριяєѕ нιѕ ℓιѕтєηєя ωιтн тнє ωιѕн тσ тєα¢н нιмѕєℓƒ. → тнє ∂яєαм вєgιηѕ ωιтн α тєα¢нєя ωнσ вєℓιєνєѕ ιη уσυ, ωнσ тυgѕ αη∂ ρυѕнєѕ αη∂ ℓєα∂ѕ уσυ тσ тнє ηєχт ρℓαтєαυ, ѕσмєтιмєѕ ρσкιηg уσυ ωιтн α ѕнαяρ ѕтι¢к ¢αℓℓє∂ “тяυтн.” → тєα¢нιηg ιѕ тнє ρяσƒєѕѕιση тнαт тєα¢нєѕ αℓℓ тнє σтнєя ρяσƒєѕѕισηѕ. → ωє єχρє¢т тєα¢нєяѕ тσ нαη∂ℓє тєєηαgє ρяєgηαη¢у, ѕυвѕтαη¢є αвυѕє, αη∂ тнє ƒαιℓιηgѕ σƒ тнє ƒαмιℓу. тнєη ωє єχρє¢т тнєм тσ є∂υ¢αтє συя ¢нιℓ∂яєη → уσυ αяє ησт σηℓу συя тєα¢нєя уσυ αяє συя ƒяιєη∂, ρнιℓσѕσρнєя αη∂ gυι∂є αℓℓ мσℓ∂є∂ ιηтσ σηє ρєяѕση ωє ωιℓℓ αℓωαуѕ вє gяαтєƒυℓ ƒσя уσυя ѕυρρσят нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу! → ωє ωιℓℓ αℓωαуѕ вє тнαηкƒυℓ тσ уσυ ƒσя αℓℓ тнє нαя∂ ωσяк αη∂ єƒƒσятѕ уσυ нανє ρυт ιη, ƒσя є∂υ¢αтιηg υѕ. нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу! → тєα¢нιηg ιѕ ℓєανιηg α νєѕтιgє σƒ σηє ѕєℓƒ ιη тнє ∂єνєℓσρмєηт σƒ αησтнєя. αη∂ ѕυяєℓу тнє ѕтυ∂єηт ιѕ α вαηк ωнєяє уσυ ¢αη ∂єρσѕιт уσυя мσѕт ρяє¢ισυѕ тяєαѕυяєѕ. → ωнєη ιт ¢σмєѕ тσ тєα¢нιηg ησ σηє ¢αη ¢σмρєтє ωιтн уσυ. нαρρу тєα¢нєяѕ ∂αу! → тєα¢нιηg ιѕ тнє σηℓу мαנσя σ¢¢υραтιση σƒ мαη ƒσя ωнι¢н ωє нανє ησт уєт ∂єνєℓσρє∂ тσσℓѕ тнαт мαкє αη ανєяαgє ρєяѕση ¢αραвℓє σƒ ¢σмρєтєη¢є αη∂ ρєяƒσямαη¢є. ιη тєα¢нιηg ωє яєℓу ση тнє “ηαтυяαℓѕ,” тнє σηєѕ ωнσ ѕσмєнσω кησω нσω тσ тєα¢н. → σηє ℓσσкѕ вα¢к ωιтн αρρяє¢ιαтιση тσ тнє вяιℓℓιαηт тєα¢нєяѕ, вυт ωιтн gяαтιтυ∂є тσ тнσѕє ωнσ тσυ¢нє∂ συя нυмαη ƒєєℓιηgѕ. тнє ¢υяяι¢υℓυм ιѕ ѕσ мυ¢н ηє¢єѕѕαяу яαω мαтєяιαℓ, вυт ωαямтн ιѕ тнє νιтαℓ єℓємєηт ƒσя тнє gяσωιηg ρℓαηт αη∂ ƒσя тнє ѕσυℓ σƒ тнє ¢нιℓ∂. → ιƒ α ∂σ¢тσя, ℓαωуєя, σя ∂єηтιѕт нα∂ 40 ρєσρℓє ιη нιѕ σƒƒι¢є αт σηє тιмє, αℓℓ σƒ ωнσм нα∂ ∂郃єяєηт ηєє∂ѕ, αη∂ ѕσмє σƒ ωнσм ∂ι∂η’т ωαηт тσ вє тнєяє αη∂ ωєяє ¢αυѕιηg тяσυвℓє, αη∂ тнє ∂σ¢тσя, ℓαωуєя, σя ∂єηтιѕт, ωιтнσυт αѕѕιѕтαη¢є, нα∂ тσ тяєαт тнєм αℓℓ ωιтн ρяσƒєѕѕισηαℓ єχ¢єℓℓєη¢є ƒσя ηιηє мσηтнѕ, тнєη нє мιgнт нανє ѕσмє ¢ση¢єρтιση σƒ тнє ¢ℓαѕѕяσσм тєα¢нєя’ѕ נσв. Posted by Kiran Bele at 21:56
Tuesday 6 November 2012 Cool SMS → ωнєη уσυ вєℓιєνє ιη ѕσмєσηє ∂єєρℓу, мιѕ-υη∂єяѕтαη∂ιηgѕ αяιѕє, вυт ∂ση’т ƒєєℓ ƒσя ιт… вє¢αυѕє ѕσмє мιѕ-υη∂єяѕтαη∂ιηgѕ αяє ηєє∂є∂ ƒσя gσσ∂ υη∂єяѕтαη∂ιηg.. → ιƒ ι ¢συℓ∂ ρυℓℓ ∂σωη тнє яαιηвσω ι ωσυℓ∂ ωяιтє υя ηαмє ωιтн ιт & ρυт ιт вα¢к ιη тнє ѕку тσ ℓєт єνєяувσ∂у кησω нσω ¢σℓσяƒυℓ му ℓιƒє ιѕ ωιтн α ƒяιєη∂ ℓιкє υ!! → тнιѕ ℓιƒє ιѕ тσσ ѕнσят тσ мαкє αη∂ α¢¢єℓєяαтє яєℓαтισηѕ, вυт ι ∂ση’т кησω ωну ρєσρℓє вяєαк тнє ∂єνєℓσρє∂ яєℓαтισηѕ. тнιѕ ℓιƒє ιѕ тσσ ѕнσят тσ ѕαу ѕσмєтнιηg тσ ℓσνє∂ σηєѕ, вυт ι ∂ση’т кησω ωну ρєσρℓє кєєρ ѕιℓєη¢є ƒσя α ℓσηg ρєяισ∂. тнιѕ ℓιƒє ιѕ тσσ ѕнσят тσ мαкє яєαℓ ƒяιєη∂ѕ, вυт ι ∂ση’т кησω ωну ρєσρℓє вяєαк ƒяιєη∂ѕнιρѕ. → ℓιƒє ιѕ ησт נυѕт ωαιтιηg ƒσя ѕσмєσηє ωнσ ιѕ мα∂є ƒσя уσυ. вυт ℓιƒє ιѕ ℓινιηg ƒσя ѕσмєσηє, ωнσ ℓινєѕ вє¢αυѕє σƒ уσυ. → ƒℓσωєяѕ ηєє∂ ѕυηѕнιηє, νισℓєтѕ ηєє∂ ∂єω, αℓℓ αηgєℓѕ ιη нєανєη кησω ι ηєє∂ υ. → ι ℓσνє ρнσтσѕ. вє¢αυѕє тнє вєѕт тнιηg αвσυт тнєм ιѕ тнєу ηєνєя ¢нαηgє, єνєη ωнєη тнє ρєσρℓє ιη тнєм ¢нαηgє “ωιℓℓιαм ѕнαкєѕρєαяє”. → ωє ℓσνє συяѕєℓƒ єνєη αƒтєя мαкιηg ѕσ мαηу мιѕтαкєѕ. тнєη нσω ¢αη ωє 4 тнєιя ѕмαℓℓ мιѕтαкєѕ? ѕтяαηgє вυт тяυє! ѕσ мαкє нαвιт σƒ ƒσяgινιηg. → єνєяу∂αу, єνєяуωнєяє, єνєяутιмє, ι мαу ησт вє ωιтн уσυ, вυт му тнιηкιηg, му ¢αяє, му ѕмѕ, му ρяαуєяѕ ; му ℓσνєℓу ωιѕнєѕ αяє αℓωαуѕ ωιтн уσυ. → υ мαу вє συт σƒ му ѕιgнт, вυт ησт συт σƒ му нєαят, υ мαу вє συт σƒ му яєα¢н вυт ησт συт σƒ му мιη∂.ι мαу мєαη ησтнιηg тσ υ вυт υ ωιℓℓ αℓωαуѕ вє ѕρє¢ιαℓ тσ мє! → ιƒ єνєя уσυ gєт ℓєѕѕ ѕмѕ ƒяσм мє, ∂ση’т тнιηк тнαт ι ∂ι∂η’т ¢αяє ƒσя уσυ. ιт мєαηѕ тнαт ι αм ѕєαя¢нιηg тнє вєѕт ѕмѕ ƒσя α вєѕт ρєяѕση ℓιкє уσυ → ρєσρℓє ℓινє ∂ιє ℓαυgн ¢яу ѕσмє gινє υρ ѕσмє ωιℓℓ тяу ѕσмє ѕαу нι ѕσмє ѕαу вує σтнєяѕ мαу ƒσяgєт уσυ вυт ηєνєя ωιℓℓ ι. → ι ηєνєя єχρє¢т σтнєяѕ тσ ѕмѕ мє. вυт ι’ℓℓ αℓωαуѕ ∂яσρ му ѕмѕ ιηтσ тнєιя ιηвσχ тσ ѕнσω ι ѕтιℓℓ “ℓσνє & яємємвєя” тнєм ωιтн σя ωιтнσυт тнєιя ѕмѕ → ƒєєℓ gσσ∂ ωнєη ѕσмєвσ∂у мιѕѕ υ. ƒєєℓ вєттєя ωнєη ѕσмєвσ∂у ℓσνєѕ υ. вυт ƒєєℓ вєѕт ωнєη ѕσмєвσ∂у ηєνєя ƒσяgєтѕ υ. → тωσ тнιηgѕ ¢αη ηєνєя вє ∂єƒιηє∂ ιη ωнσℓє ℓιƒє, ℓσνє: вє¢αυѕє уσυ ηєνєя кησω ωнσ ℓσνєѕ уσυ нσω мυ¢н. &; ƒяιєη∂: вє¢αυѕє уσυ ηєνєя кησω нσω ∂єєρℓу тнєу ¢αяє αвσυт уσυ. → αℓωαуѕ αѕк gσ∂ тσ gινє υ ωнαт υ ∂єѕєяνє, ησт ωнαт уσυ ∂єѕιяє. в¢σz уσυя ∂єѕιяєѕ мαу вє ƒєω, вυт уσυ ∂єѕєяνєѕ α ℓσт! → ѕσмє яєℓαтισηѕ αяє ℓιкє тσм αη∂ נєяяу. тнєу тєαѕє єα¢н σтнєя, кησ¢к ∂σωη єα¢н σтнєя, ιяяιтαтє єα¢н σтнєя вυт тнєу єνєη ¢αη’т ℓινє ωιтнσυт єα¢н σтнєя! → αη єχ¢єℓℓєηт яσα∂ ѕєηтєη¢є ωяιттєη ση ηαтισηαℓ нιgнωαу: gσ ѕℓσω, υηℓєѕѕ υ нανє αη υяgєηт αρρσιηтмєηт ωιтн gσ∂! → нαя∂ тιмєѕ αяє ℓιкє α ωαѕнιηg мα¢нιηє, тнєу тωιѕт, тυяη &αмρ; кησ¢к υѕ αяσυη∂, вυт ιη тнє єη∂ ωє ¢σмє συт ¢ℓєαηєя, вяιgнтєя &αмρ; вєттєя тнαη вєƒσяє… → ѕσмєтιмєѕ уσυ нανє тσ яυη αωαу. ησт נυѕт тσ ¢яєαтє ∂ιѕтαη¢єѕ. вυт тσ ѕєє ωнσ ¢αяєѕ єησυgн тσ яυη вєнιη∂ уσυ! → му ωαу σƒ ℓιƒє . ρєσρℓє ℓαυgн вє¢αυѕє ι αм ∂郃єяєηт, ι ℓαυgн вє¢αυѕє тнєу αяє αℓℓ тнє ѕαмє, . тнαтѕ ¢αℓℓє∂ ‘αттιтυ∂є’… “ℓινє ιт уσυя σωη ωαу” → α ρσρυℓαя ιηѕριяαтισηαℓ ѕρєαкєя ѕαι∂: вєѕт уєαяѕ σƒ му ℓιƒє ωєяє ѕρєηт ιη αямѕ σƒ α ωσмαη ωнσ ωαѕη’т му ωιƒє! αυ∂ιєη¢є ωαѕ ѕнσ¢кє∂ αη∂ ѕιℓєη¢є. нє α∂∂є∂: ѕнє ωαѕ му мσтнєя! αυ∂ιєη¢є αρρℓαυѕє αη∂ ℓαυgнтєя! → συя вσ∂у ιѕ ƒυℓℓу мα∂є σƒ ωαтєя вυт ωнєηєνєя ιт нυятѕ вℓσσ∂ ¢σмєѕ συт. συя нєαят ιѕ ƒυℓℓ σƒ вℓσσ∂ вυт ωнєηєνєя ιт нυятѕ, ωαтєя ¢σмєѕ ƒяσм συя єуєѕ. → ℓιƒє ιѕ α σηє ωαу яσα∂. ωнєяє ¢αη ѕєє вα¢к. вυт уσυ ¢αη ησт gσ вα¢к. ѕσ ∂σ ησт мιѕѕ αηутнιηg. єηנσу єνєяу ѕє¢ση∂ σƒ ℓιƒє! → ιƒ αη єgg вяєαкѕ ∂υє 2 συтѕι∂є ƒσя¢є! “ιηѕι∂є ℓιƒє єη∂ѕ!” вυт… ιƒ ιт вяєαкѕ ƒяσм ιηѕι∂є! “ℓιƒє вєgιηѕ!” gяєαт тнιηgѕ αℓωαуѕ вєgιη ƒяσм ιηѕι∂є! ѕσ тяу тσ мαкє уσυя ιηѕι∂є gσσ∂! → α ℓιттℓє ∂郃єяєη¢є вєтωєєη ρяσмιѕєѕ &αмρ; мємσяιєѕ. ρяσмιѕєѕ: ωє вяєαк тнєм &αмρ; мємσяιєѕ: тнєу вяєαк υѕ. → кєєρ α ѕρє¢ιαℓ ρℓα¢є ƒσя мє ιη уσυя нєαят, ησт ιη уσυя мιη∂! кєєριηg мє ιη уσυя мιη∂ ¢αη вє ∂αηgєяσυѕ ƒσя уσυ вє¢αυѕє ρєσρℓє ѕαу ι αм мιη∂ вℓσωιηg… → нαρριηєѕѕ ¢αηησт вє ƒσυη∂ ωнєη уσυ ѕєєк ιт ƒσя уσυяѕєℓƒ вυт ωнєη уσυ gινє ιт тσ σтнєяѕ, ιт ωιℓℓ ƒιη∂ ιт’ѕ ωαу вα¢к тσ уσυ тнαт’ѕ тнє муѕтєяу σƒ нαρριηєѕѕ ιт gяσωѕ ωнєη ѕнαяє∂. → тнє нαρριєѕт σƒ ρєσρℓє ∂ση’т ηє¢єѕѕαяιℓу нανє тнє вєѕт σƒ єνєяутнιηg. тнєу נυѕт мαкє тнє мσѕт σƒ єνєяутнιηg, тнαт ¢σмєѕ αℓσηg тнєιя ωαу. → ∂єαтн ιѕ ησт тнє gяєαтєѕт ℓσѕѕ ιη ℓιƒє тнє gяєαтєѕт ℓσѕѕ σƒ ℓιƒє ιѕ ωнєη яєℓαтισηѕнιρ ∂ιєѕ αмσηg υѕ ωнιℓє ωє я αℓινє ѕσ в ѕтяσηg ιη уσυя яєℓαтισηѕ. → єχρяєѕѕιση σƒ тнє ƒα¢є ¢συℓ∂ вє ѕєєη ву єνєяуσηє. вυт тнє ∂єρяєѕѕιση σƒ нєαят ¢συℓ∂ вє υη∂єяѕтσσ∂ σηℓу ву тнє вєѕт σηє. ∂ση’т ℓσѕє тнєм ιη ℓιƒє. → тнσυѕαη∂ѕ σƒ ℓαηgυαgєѕ αяσυη∂ тнιѕ ωσяℓ∂ вυт “ѕмιℓє” ¢αη вєαт тнєм αℓℓ. вє¢αυѕє “ѕмιℓє” ιѕ тнє ℓαηgυαgє єνєη α вαву ¢αη ѕρєαк.. → ѕσмє ρєσρℓє ∂ση’т кησω нσω ιмρσятαηт тнєιя ρяєѕєη¢є ιѕ. нσω gσσ∂ ιт ƒєєℓѕ тσ нανє тнєм αяσυη∂. нσω ¢σмƒσятιηg тнєιя ωσя∂ѕ αяє. αη∂ нσω ѕαтιѕƒуιηg ιѕ тнє νєяу тнσυgнт тнαт тнєу єχιѕт. тнєу ωσυℓ∂η’т кησω υηℓєѕѕ ωє тєℓℓ тнєм ℓιкє ι αм тєℓℓιηg уσυ ησω. уσυ αяє тяυєℓу ναℓυє∂…!! → вєѕт ℓιηєѕ ву α вєѕт ƒяιєη∂: “ιт нυятѕ мє υ тαℓк тσ ѕ0мє0ηє єℓѕє η η0т мє.. .. ιт нυятѕ єνєη м0яє ωєη ѕ0мє1 єℓѕє мαкєѕ υ ѕмιℓє η ι ¢αη’т . . .” → gσт α gιƒт ƒσя уσυ! ησ ¢σѕт, єχтяємєℓу ρєяѕσηαℓ! ƒυℓℓу яєтυяηαвℓє! ιтѕ α нυg ƒяσм мє тσ уσυ!! → υ мαу мєєт ρєσρℓє, вєттєя тнαη мє, ƒυηηιєя тнαη мє, мσяє вєαυтιƒυℓ тнαη мє, вυт σηє тнιηg ι ¢αη ѕαу 2 υ _ _ ι ωιℓℓ αℓωαуѕ вє тнєяє 4 υ ωнєη тнєу αℓℓ ℓєανє υ. → мσвιℓєѕ αяє ιяяιтαтιηg, ∂αιℓу ¢нαяgιηg, мσηтнℓу яє¢нαяgιηg, αηησуιηg вєєρѕ, αℓωαуѕ ∂ιѕтυявιηg, вυт ѕтιℓℓ ι ℓσνє му мσвιℓє вє¢αυѕє ιт ¢σηηє¢тѕ “υ & мє” → ωнєη ѕσмєσηє нυятѕ υ . . . . ∂ση’т ƒєєℓ вα∂ вє¢αυѕє ιтѕ тнє ℓαω σƒ ηαтυяє тнαт тнє тяєє тнαт вєαяѕ тнє ѕωєєтєѕт ƒяυιтѕ gєтѕ мαχιмυм ηυмвєя σƒ ѕтσηєѕ → α нυg ιѕ α gιƒт σηє ѕιzє ƒιт αℓℓ ιт ¢αη вє gινєη ιη αηу σ¢¢αѕιση ѕσ ι αм ѕєη∂ уσυ тнιѕ нυg тσ тєℓℓ уσυ ι ℓσνє уσυ. → ωнєη υ ƒα¢є ¢нσι¢єѕ… נυѕт тσѕѕ α ¢σιη.. ησт נυѕт вє¢αυѕє ιт ѕєттℓєѕ тнє qυєѕтιση, вυт ωнιℓє тнє ¢σιη ιѕ ιη αιя, υ ωιℓℓ кησω ωнαт υя нєαят ιѕ нσριηg ƒσя !!! → тнє ℓσνєℓιєѕт ∂αу ¢σмєѕ ωнєη уσυ ωαкє υρ αη∂ ƒιη∂ тнαт ℓσνє ѕтιℓℓ ¢σℓσяѕ уσυя ωσяℓ∂ тняυ ρєσρℓє ωнσ тяυℓу ¢αяє αη∂ ηєνєя ƒαιℓ тσ яємємвєя уσυ. → тнєяє ιѕ αℓωαуѕ α яєαѕση 4 єνєяутнιηg α яєαѕση 2 ℓινє 2 ∂ιє 2 ¢яу, вυт ιƒ υ ¢αη�т ƒιη∂ α яєαѕση тσ ѕмιℓє ¢αη ι вє тнє яєαѕση 4 α ωнιℓє:) → ℓιƒє + ℓσνє = нαρρу ℓιƒє – ℓσνє = ѕα∂ α∂∂ιηg αвσνє 2, ℓιƒє + ℓσνє = нαρρу ℓιƒє – ℓσνє = ѕα∂ ——————– 2ℓιƒє = нαρρу + ѕα∂ ѕσ, ℓιƒє = 1/2нαρρу + 1/2ѕα∂ → ι ѕмιℓє αт ωнσм ι ℓιкє; ι ¢яу 4 ωнσм ι ¢αяє; ι ѕнαяє ωιтн ωнσм ι ℓσνє; ι ℓαυgн ωιтн ωнσм ι єηנσу; ι ѕєη∂ ѕмѕ σηℓу 2 тнσѕє ωнσм ι ηєνєя ωαηт 2 ℓσѕє → яєαℓιzє тнιηgѕ вєƒσяє ιт’ѕ тσσ ℓαтє. α¢¢єρт тнιηgѕ тнαη ∂єℓαу тнєм. ℓσνє ρєσρℓє вєƒσяє уσυ ℓσѕє тнєм. ℓιƒє נυѕт ¢σмєѕ ση¢є. ℓσνє ιт ωнιℓє уσυ ℓινє ιт. → ι ∂є¢ι∂є∂ тσ ѕєη∂ уσυ тнє ¢υтєѕт αη∂ ѕωєєтєѕт gιƒт σƒ тнє ωσяℓ∂. вυт тнє ρσѕтмαη ѕнσυтє∂ αт мє ѕαуιηg, gєт συт σƒ тнє ρσѕт вσχ. → ℓιƒє ωιтнσυт ℓσνє ιѕ ℓιкє α ƒяυιтℓєѕѕ тяєє, вυт ℓιƒє ωιтнσυт ƒяιєη∂ѕ ιѕ ℓιкє яσσтℓєѕѕ тяєє. тяєє ¢αη ℓινє ωιтнσυт ƒяυιт вυт ησт ωιтнσυт яσσт! → ¢αяяу α нєαят тнαт ηєνєя нαтєѕ, ¢αяяу α ѕмιℓє тнαт ηєνєя ƒα∂єѕ, ¢αяяу α тσυ¢н тнαт ηєνєя нυятѕ, αη∂ αℓωαуѕ ¢αяяу α яєℓαтισηѕнιρ тнαт ηєνєя вяєαкѕ. → αѕ ρяє¢ισυѕ αѕ υ я тσ мє, αѕ ρяє¢ισυѕ ησ σηє ¢αη єνєя вє, ι кησω ƒяιєη∂ѕ я нαя∂ тσ ¢нσσѕє, вυт υ я α ƒяιєη∂ ι ηєνєя ωαηт тσ ℓσѕє. → мσηєу ѕαуѕ єαяη мє ℓσт, тιмє ѕαуѕ ρℓαη мє ℓσт, ƒℓσωєя ѕαуѕ ℓσνє мє ℓσт, ѕтυ∂у ѕαуѕ ℓєαяη мє ℓσт, ѕмѕ ѕαуѕ ѕєη∂ мє ℓσт, αη∂ ℓ ѕαу яємємвєя мє ℓσт. → υ ωαηт αη∂ υ gєт υ ωαηт αη∂ υ gєт тнαт ιѕ ℓυ¢к, υ ωαηт αη∂ υ ωαιт тнαт ιѕ тιмє, υ ωαηт вυт υ ¢σмρяσмιѕє тнαт ιѕ ℓιƒє → мємσяιєѕ нανє тнєιя ѕтяαηgє ωαуѕ. тнєу ℓєανє уσυ αℓσηє. ωнєη уσυ αяє ιη α ¢яσω∂. вυт ωнєη уσυ αяє αℓσηє. тнєу ѕтαη∂ αяσυη∂ уσυ ℓιкє α ¢яσω∂. → ιƒ υя α ¢нσ¢σℓαтє υя тнє ѕωєєтєѕт, ιƒ υя α тє∂∂у вєαя υя тнє мσѕт нυggαвℓє, ιƒ υ αяє α ѕтαя υ я тнє вяιgнтєѕт, αη∂ ѕιη¢є υ я му �ƒяιєη∂� υ я тнє �вєѕт�! → яσѕє ιѕ ƒαмσυѕ 4 gяα¢є… α∂νσ¢αтє ιѕ ƒαмσυѕ 4 нιѕ ¢αѕє… нσяѕєѕ я ƒαмσυѕ 4 яα¢є… вυт υ я ƒαмσυѕ 4 ѕмιℓє ση υя ƒα¢є…! нανє α ηι¢є ∂αу → “ι тяυѕт уσυ” ιѕ α вєттєя ¢σмρℓιмєηт тнαη “ι ℓσνє уσυ” вє¢αυѕє уσυ мαу ησт αℓωαуѕ тяυѕт тнє ρєяѕση уσυ ℓσνє вυт уσυ ¢αη αℓωαуѕ ℓσνє тнє ρєяѕση уσυ тяυѕт. → ι ωαηηα кєєρ3 тнιηgѕ: . . тнє ѕυη тнє мσση & му ƒяιєη∂ѕ ѕυη 4 ∂αутιмє мσση ƒσя ηιgнт тιмє &αмρ; υ.му ∂єαя ƒяιєη∂ 4 ℓιƒєтιмє → ιƒ уσυ ℓσνє ѕσмєтнιηg, ℓєт ιт gσ. ιƒ ιт ¢σмєѕ вα¢к тσ уσυ, ιтѕ уσυяѕ ƒσяєνєя. ιƒ ιт ∂σєѕη’т, тнєη ιт ωαѕ ηєνєя мєαηт тσ вє. → ωнєη α мєѕѕαgє ιѕ ѕєηт ƒяσм α ∂ιѕтαη¢є, уσυ ¢αη’т ѕєє тнє ƒα¢єѕ, уσυ ¢αη’т ѕєє тнє ѕмιℓєѕ, вυт уσυ ¢αη ѕєє тнє ¢αяє тнαт тяυℓу ¢σмєѕ ƒяσм нєαят ! → ∂ση’т ℓєт ѕσмєσηє вє¢σмє уσυя єνєяутнιηg, вє¢αυѕє ωнєη тнєу’яє gσηє уσυ нανє ησтнιηg! → ѕρєαкιηg ωιтнσυт єgσѕ, ℓσνιηg ωιтнσυт ιηтєηтισηѕ, ¢αяιηg ωιтнσυт єχρє¢тαтισηѕ &αмρ; ρяαуιηg ωιтнσυт ѕєℓƒιѕнηєѕѕ, ιѕ тнє ѕιgη σƒ “тяυє яєℓαтιση”. → яєℓαтισηѕнιρ яєqυιяєѕ ℓιттℓє єƒƒσятѕ……….. єνєη ωнєη ƒяιєη∂ѕ αяє вυѕу ωιтн тнєιя σωη ℓινєѕ, α ѕιмρℓє ѕмѕ яємιη∂ѕ єα¢н σтнєя тнαт……. “υ я ησт ƒσяgσттєη” → вє ¢ℓσѕє ωιтн ѕσмєσηє ωнσ мαкєѕ уσυ нαρρу…! вυт вє мυ¢н ¢ℓσѕєя тσ тнαт ρєяѕση ωнσ ¢αη’т вє нαρρу ωιтнσυт уσυ…! → ѕσσσσσσ…. ѕιмρℓє вυт ѕσ αттяα¢тινє. ѕσ.. єηℓιgнтηιηg вυт ѕσ ¢σσℓ. ѕσ мσνιηg вυт ѕσ ѕтιℓℓ. ѕσ… qυιтє вυт ѕσ ρσρυℓαя. ѕσ яσмαηтι¢ вυт ѕтιℓℓ ѕιηgℓє. ιт’ѕ тнє тяαgє∂у σƒ мσση:-
For Employers w/ disabled workers If a person who has a disability wants to work they might have difficulty getting jobs. There are different types of disabilities to varying degrees. First, inform them the expectations of the job. Make sure they know how to do the job as you train. Give warnings (and explain why behind the warning) before resorting to termination, as some people might not under stand what they did wrong. Even if the disability is confidential, explain to coworkers not to give the employee a hard time, without divulging. Don’t touch the employee or their belongings (including any mobility aids) without asking them first. Allow the employee extra time if necessary so as to not overwhelm them. Monitor the surroundings to make sure no harassment takes place, possible barriers to accessibility, etc. Try not to get frustrated if they do something differently than what others might do, such as note reminders, etc.
Did You Know? You can look taller by improving your posture. Try doing different back exercises to keep your spine(s) in shape and reduce the hunch that is making you look short. Do exercises like chest openers, the cat-cow pose, thoracic spine rotation, horizontal front-to-back arm stretches, wall slides, and glute bridges.
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
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
New year affirmations ♥︎ 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 ♥︎ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 ♥︎𝑖’𝑚 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑦 𝑔𝑜𝑎𝑙s ♥︎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑗𝑜𝑦, 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ ♥︎𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 ♥︎𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑤 ♥︎ 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑒 ♥︎𝐼’𝑣𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑟 ♥︎ 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑢𝑝 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑑𝑎𝑦 ♥︎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑠 ♥︎ 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑜𝑛 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒 ♥︎ 𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑧𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 ♥︎ 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 ♥︎ 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑦𝑒𝑡
Today my school had a fire drill. I was standing outside with one of the most popular football players, when a Down Syndrome girl came up to him and wanted to hold his hand because she was scared. Happily, he held her hand in front of all his friends back to class. His soft side in front of his boys GMH May 16, 2010 at 12:00pm by Rachel, Griffith IN
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.
𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎 + make a wishlist so you’ll be prepared when it’s your birthday/Christmas + do five or more journal prompts + start a new hobby or make a list of new hobbies you’d like to try + write a letter to your future self or film a video for your future self + digital redecorating: change the theme/layout of your devices + reread a book you haven’t read in 3 or more years + watch a show or film in a genre you don’t usually watch + go on YouTube and make a playlist of your favorite self improvement/advice videos to watch when you’re down or need a push + learn a favorite song on an instrument + paint or draw the view outside your bedroom window + make a Pinterest board that perfectly captures the vibe(s) you wish to embody + organize your desk + go on a walk when the sun sets + watch a YouTuber you used to love + plan your ideal trip! it’s super fun to dream up possible vacations!! + look for a new podcast to listen to 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 ✧
𝙎𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙨 𝙞𝙩! ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -。꒱ྀི১ 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙩, 𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙡!. 𝙉𝙤𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙙𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙮 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙮𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙡𝙨 𝙪𝙥 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣 𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙬, 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙪𝙩 𝙖 “𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡 !” 𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮! 𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝘿𝙊 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙤 𝙞𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛! 𝙉𝙤𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙨 𝙉𝙊𝘽𝙊𝘿𝙔 𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙠𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙪𝙥 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛! 𝙍𝙚𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡? 𝙄𝙩𝙨 𝙖 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝘽𝙞𝙗𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙞-𝘽𝙤𝙗𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙞-𝘽𝙤𝙤 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙚! 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙢 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙞𝙭 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙝ar𝙙𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙣 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝘽𝙞𝙗𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙞-𝘽𝙤𝙗𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙞-𝘽𝙤𝙤 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙚!!! 𝘹𝘰𝘹𝘰!, 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘺! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚
Music, Arts, Crafts, Recipes and Fashion blogging from a Gothic/Dark Romantic perspective. Sunday 31 May 2015 Goth Is Not Inherently Satanic I got harrassed for being a Goth by a stranger professing the grounds of Christianity, and attempting to convert me away as reason to berate me. Yesterday, I was out busking in town, in relatively Gothic clothes, wearing my red wig, and playing my usual fare of traditional Scottish, Irish and other European folk tunes, and this middle-aged man who was clearly drunk came up to me, and started going about how I play "mystical stuff that goes back to the 12th century" (a reference to an incoherent comment he'd made about Greensleeves at me months ago; I'm surprised he'd remembered it, because I had forgotten about it) and then started going on about how I "don't have to wear black, and dye your [my] hair red" (I pointed out that I was wearing a wig, but he didn't seem to be listening) and then went on to get into my personal space and loudly and aggressively deride being a Goth as Satanic, and tell me that he's a Christian and that I should, to paraphrase him 'find my Saviour'. I tried my best to explain that Goths no religious affiliation and simply an aesthetic preference, but he kept insisting. As he later went on to inform that he'd been an alcoholic, and then "clean for 2 years" but had "done a runner three days ago", I decided that his words and actions were the product and not to take them to heart. He said he would pray for me, and I thanked him. I decided silently I would pray for him too, for that after 2 years clean and then relapsing, he finds his way back to sobriety, and get the help and support to do so, and find the inner strength too, because I know addiction is hard battle. Just as he left my Goth friends came up to me, saying they weren't sure whether to intervene, as he had harassed them too, condemning them. It was a complex situation, and even though he railed at us and condemned us, his actions were clearly a sign of his own struggles and I could not bring myself to be harsh with him, and he did give me a £5 note, so at least he was generous as well as religiously harrassing (not that giving me money ameliorates bad behaviour, and I do wonder if he thought giving me money was simply a way to get my time). I didn't know what to do about the situation; I felt cornered because busking generally means I have to stand with my back to a wall to avoid being in the way of pedestrians, and although people were walking by, nobody helped me and I could not see any security guards or police, although I did feel that they might just treat him as another obnoxious drunk, when he probably needed more nuanced help than that. This got me thinking that it is a common misconception that Goth is synonymous with Satanic, or at least that it is inherently Satanic, and I feel like it would be productive to break down that misconception. Goth is simply a subculture that is focused on having an appreciation for the morbid, dark and spooky in music, fashion, art and literature; it has no religious affiliation at all, and Goths come from all religions as well as agnostic and atheists. That is the short response, but does not really contain any nuance, not does it explain why Goths sometimes use Satanic imagery, or gives any differentiated understanding of how occult themes tie into the Gothic, and as such does little to shed light on how Goth is not Satanic even though it looks like it could be. Satanic imagery is used within the Gothic subculture for several reasons. Sometimes Satanic imagery is used for shock value, especially by those who feel constrained by a conservative cultural backdrop and wish to differentiate themselves as other, as part of something taboo, dark and frightening. Often it is teens who do this, and it is not representative of the wearer's/displayer's true religious or spiritual beliefs, but part of a more complex process of wishing to separate themselves and create their own identity. Often a passing phase - either because all interest in dark and spooky things is a passing phase, or because they mature into somebody more in the identity, rather than identifying themselves oppositionally to others. Some people carry this behaviour on adulthood, but usually a behaviour that people mature. Often, Satanic imagery used for is not used in a way that is coherent with the actual uses of those symbols within Satan or the occult, and is often mixed up with symbols from other religious and spiritual groups (I have seen symbols appropriated into this sort of shock-value pseudo-Satanism, but that is another matter.) Some Goths actually are Satanist, but they are a minority even within the Goth scene - these people will use Satanic symbols correctly, and tend not to advertise their Satanic affiliations. Most of the actual Satanists I know personally are not Goths; they tend to be more "nerdy" and less into the theatric and ostentatious aesthetics of Goth. Most of the I have met subscribe to a version of Satanist where Satan is an archetype of independence, hedonism and suchlike, rather than a deliberately Anti-Christ worship of the Devil. I have never met an actual Devil-worshipper, someone who subscribes to a Christian theology and cosmology, but looks to Heck and the Devil rather than to Heaven and Jesus - I am not saying they do not exist, just that such people must be quite rare, even amongst Gothic and Occult circles. Sometimes people mistake Neo-Pagan iconography and symbolism for Satanic imagery, for example confusion can arise over the use of pentacles and pentagrams (and their inverted variations), and this is exacerbated by the misuse of these. Neo-Paganism is a religion that has no concept of an adversarial dichotomy, with no Heck or Satan. Some people hold the belief that all things other than their specific religious path are Satanic or at least a distraction or deception from what they see as the truth, but outside of that belief structure, there is little in Neo-Paganism that could mark it as anything Satanist, any more than say, Buddhism or Hindoo; it is a completely different belief system to any of the monotheistic faiths. As Goths often have an interest in the spiritual, and are apt to look outside conventional spirituality for answers, there are quite a few Neo-Pagans within Goth, but again, not all Goths are Neo-Pagans, and not all Neo-Pagans are Goths (quite a few dress very 'mainstream' and others -a significant proportion- are more inclined towards Hippy and 'Bohemian' aesthetics.). There are some who feel badly hurt by Christianity, or who see it as a destructive force, and who use Christian symbols and anti-Christian symbols as a critique of Christianity and the power of organised religion; sometimes this falls into the territory of shock-value, and sometimes it is done with more refinement and nuance, but this is not unique to Goth, even though it does exist within the Gothic subculture, nor is it something you have to engage in as a Goth. Goths tend to be people who have been outcast by traditional community structures, and that can include the Church, and/or people who use Christianity as an excuse to harass (a bit like the man in my opening paragraphs) - as such, there are probably a greater percentage of Goths who do this than non-Goths. Personally, even as an apostate, I find this sort of thing can often be more harmful and rectionary than productive. I don't think religions should be beyond criticism or critique, but I do think that there ways to go about doing this, and there are ways that are just rude and mean, where the message is lost. There are, of course, more than these four contexts, but these are the four most common contexts and reasons for the use of Satanic imagery within the Gothic subculture. Sometimes it is used in the traditional way it was used within Gothic horror; as a symbol for various evils or villainry that a good person can come across, for example. The use of Satanic imagery is not inherent to Goth - the use of dark imagery is, but not all dark imagery has to come from the cultural/religious context of Heaven and Heck, God and the Devil - there are plenty more traditions to draw from, and a lot of Gothic imagery comes from European folk-tales, sometimes more entwined with Christianity. The imagery of death, decay, transience and similar are part of the human experience, and appear in different ways across all cultures. There is plenty of positive Christian iconography used in Goth as well - but that is a topic for different blog entry entirely (and something I would quite like to write about, and get some of my Christian Goth friends to write guest posts for, but that is for a different time). Not everything dark is Satanic even in a Christian context; the Bible is full of stories about people who had to overcome pain, suffering and violence, and the very concepts of martyrdom and Christ as crucified saviour involve death and sacrifice; not everything that is dark is inherently negative. Goths are not synonymous with Satanist, we are not a group who worship the Devil or are anti-Christian; we are diverse with diverse perspectives outside of things that are actually Goth (of which specific religious affiliation is not). There are quite a few Goths who are Christians, and there are Goths who are Jewish, Muslim, and members of other monotheistic faiths. There are even Goth priests - check out the ::Priestly Goth Blog:: for example. You cannot tell someone's religion by subcultural affiliation. Side note: if you wish to convert someone to your faith, condemning them and berating them will have the exact opposite effect; you are more likely to drive that person away from the religion you profess than convert them. The HouseCat at 07:00
Info tips for practitioners w/ autism and/or sensitivities First, thank you for caring. Not trying to question your expertise in health. Now, Autism is a spectrum. It’s not something one can turn off. It’s not a choice. Most of us are not trying to be demanding. If any thing, we’re afraid of being seen as childish, picky, high maintenance, bossy, rude, etc. We can easily get overwhelmed. We want to compromise with you. If we ask for another nurse to do something or if we know we cannot handle a procedure without certain accommodations, it’s not personally attacking against you. You have the power to provide the care and provide us any options; individuals know their own personal tolerance and needs. We do not ever want to start arguments. We do not want to inconvenience you over something, as we do not feel entitled. Having sensitivities not by choice, as it is more than inconvenience but also painful. We always feel when you do your best. We’re both human, autistic or not. It is not a choice.
“𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓭𝓸 𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓴 𝓽𝓸 𝓹𝓮𝓸𝓹𝓵𝓮” - 𝒯𝑒𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒫𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓉𝓉
The central symptom of sleep talking is audible expression that occurs during sleep without the person being aware of it happening. It can be gibberish or resemble normal speech and consists in the unaware production of vocalisation during sleep. However, people are very rarely aware that they are talking in their sleep at the time and typically have no recollection of the episodes when they wake up. A large number of sleep speeches merely consist of short expressions of assent or negation (e.g., ‘OK’, ‘no,’ ‘good,’ ‘mm-hm,’ ‘uh-huh,’ ‘no!’ ‘stop!’ ‘don’t!’, etc.) As they experience different sensations and emotions in their dreams, it may manifest as groaning or other vocalisations. Excess mucus, combined with nose breathing and narrow airways, can lead to rattling or whistling sounds. Congestion and dry or swollen nasal membranes can clog up the works making breathing audible instead of peaceful. Sometimes it’s occasional, a gentle, perhaps even peaceful, soft whistling. Other times it sounds like a buzz saw, getting closer and closer, paused by a moment of silence, before climaxing in an even louder snort or gasp for air. And sometimes when we fall into a deep sleep, the muscles in the roof of the mouth (soft palate), tongue and throat relax. The tissues in the back of the throat can relax enough that they partially block the airway. As we inhale and exhale, these tissues rattle and vibrate, resulting in sounds in some people. The tissue vibration increases as the airway narrows, causing the snoring to grow louder and louder. As a person inhales and exhales, the moving air causes the tissue to flutter and make noise. Usually during sleep the brain becomes used to one’s own snoring (a process called habituation) As mentioned, people sometimes don’t hear themselves snore because the brain’s ability to receive sensory information is limited while we sleep. Some external stimulus may cause a person to stir, however.
– ̗̀ 𝓗𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔫𝔫𝔞 𝔥𝔞𝔱𝔢 ̖́- ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ✧
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.
Pierwszy dzień w szkole Autor: BradDracV Źródło: First Day of School Tłumaczenie: Puck Norris Rosie szarpała zamkiem jej plecaka w kwiatki, czekając na autobus, który miał ją zabrać do szkoły. Stojący za nią rodzice byli równie nerwowi jak ona, próbowali jednak tego po sobie nie okazywać. Chcieli, żeby pierwszy dzień w szkole Rosie był dla niej nowym przeżyciem pełnym ekscytacji, a nie obaw. Mogli ją zaprowadzić do szkoły osobiście, nie mieszkali od niej daleko, ale chcieli, żeby jej urocza córka mogła zawrzeć nowe przyjaźnie i poznać innych ludzi. Zresztą, jasny, żółty autobus zatrzymał się przed ich domem jeszcze zanim zdążyli zmienić zdanie. Co dziwne, autobus był pusty. To tylko sprawiło, że niepokój rodziny jeszcze bardziej urósł. Po zbiorowym uścisku i wielu pocałunkach wymienionych z mamą i tatą, Rosie wsiadła do pojazdu i zajęła miejsce z przodu. Pulchny kierowca pomachał jej rodzicom, praktycznie nie patrząc w ich kierunku. Drzwi zapiszczały i zamknęły się za ich małym skarbem. Mama uroniła małą łzę, obserwując razem z tatą jak autobus znika za zakrętem na końcu ulicy. "Będzie się dzisiaj świetnie bawiła." tata pocieszył mamę całusem w czoło. "Wiem" zgodziła się mama, nie brzmiąc zbyt przekonywująco. "Idę wziąć prysznic" powiedziała i skierowała się do domu. Kiedy tylko tata wszedł za nią do środka, zaskoczony usłyszał głośne trąbienie. Poczuł, że żołądek podchodzi mu do gardła, gdy tylko się odwrócił i zobaczył inny autobus, wypełniony szczęśliwymi uczniami i stojący na jego podjeździe. Szerokie drzwi rozwarły się. "Dzień dobry, panie Thomas" powiedział starszy kierowca o miłym uśmiechu kochającej babci. "Czy Rosie jest gotowa na swój pierwszy dzień?"
୨୧ 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼 ୨୧ 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐬 — 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐲 🍃📚 𝟭. 𝗽𝗮𝘆 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲. 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆, 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀. 𝗱𝗼 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗽𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗶𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 + 𝗮𝗹𝗽𝗵𝗮𝗯𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗼𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿. 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼, 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝗶𝗻-𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗰𝗶𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝟮. 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿/𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝘆𝗽𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗼𝗻𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝘀𝗶𝘇𝗲. 𝟯. 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗳𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺𝘀/𝗺𝗮𝗽𝘀/𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆𝘀, 𝗵𝗼𝘄𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿, 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 (𝗯𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁). 𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘃𝗼𝗹𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗶𝘁. 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝗻-𝗱𝗲𝗽𝘁𝗵 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲. 𝟰. 𝗱𝗼 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗮𝗿𝗶𝘇𝗲. 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀, 𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘂𝗻𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲. 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗯𝗶𝗴 𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗲. 𝟱. 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗯𝗲 𝘃𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗼𝘀, 𝗱𝗼𝗰𝘂𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀, 𝗲𝘁𝗰. 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗽𝗶𝗰 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝘀𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆. 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗹𝗲𝗱𝗴𝗲 𝗶𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗲𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘃𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗱 𝗮𝗿𝗴𝘂𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀. 𝟲. 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝘃𝗮𝗹𝘂𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆. 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴; 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗯𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗯𝘆 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗼𝗽𝘂𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱, 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗹𝘀, 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘇𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗽𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱𝘄𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗽𝗼𝗽𝘂𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲𝗱, 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗯𝘆 (𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗿/𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿), 𝗲𝘁𝗰. 𝟳. 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗮𝗰𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗰 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. 𝟴. 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 (𝗮𝘀 𝗶𝗻, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲/𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻). 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗼𝘄𝗻 . 𝟵. 𝗢𝗡𝗟𝗬 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗚𝗼𝗼𝗴𝗹𝗲 𝗦𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗮𝗿, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗰𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗰 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀/𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲𝘀. 𝗗𝗼 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘀 𝗼𝗿 𝗪𝗶𝗸𝗶𝗽𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗮. 𝟭𝟬. 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗲 𝗿𝗲-𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸 𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝘆𝗽𝗼𝘀 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗱𝗱 𝗽𝗵𝗿𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀, 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲. 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝘆 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝘀𝗸 𝗮 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱/𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸.
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.
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Warning: This item may contain sensitive themes such as nudity.

"I wanted to scream, but I have no mouth."
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.
Rowlie from on BoredPanda.com ↓ ↓ It's freezing and dark, the constant movement is making me nauseous, everything hurts, I'm lonely and scared I wish I didnt' ask for my ashes to be spread into the ocean...
ʀ/TᴡᴏSᴇɴᴛᴇɴᴄᴇHᴏʀʀᴏʀ 5 ʜʀ. ᴀɢᴏ Pɪsᴛᴀᴄʜɪᴏ_Mᴜsᴛᴀʀᴅ Wʜᴇɴ I ᴀsᴋᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴇɴɪᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴇɴᴅ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ I ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴄʀᴏᴘs ᴛᴏ ғʟᴏᴜʀɪsʜ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ Iᴛs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴀ ᴅᴀʏ ɴᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ I ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ɢᴇᴛ ᴍʏ ʙᴀʙʏ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴀᴛ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ
ᴺᵒᵗ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ⁱˢ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛⁱⁿᵍ! ᔆᵃᵐᵐʸ ⁱˢ ᵃᵗ ʰᵒᵐᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ ⁿᵒⁱˢᵉˢ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱᵗᶜʰᵉⁿ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵍᵒᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱᵗᶜʰᵉⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠⁱⁿᵈˢ ᵃ ˢˡⁱᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵖⁱᶻᶻᵃ ᶠˡᵒᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃⁱʳ‧ ᔆᵃᵐᵐʸ'ˢ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵉⁿᵗᵉʳˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱᵗᶜʰᵉⁿ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᔆᵃᵐᵐʸ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵖⁱᶻᶻᵃ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵉ ˢᶜᵒˡᵈˢ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵃᵗ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵈⁱⁿⁿᵉʳ‧ ᔆᵃᵐᵐʸ ⁱˢ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜˡᵉᵃⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ ᔆᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ⸴ ʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ⁱⁿˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ ⁱⁿᵗʳᵒᵈᵘᶜᵉˢ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵃˢ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿᵛⁱˢⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵇᵒʸ ʷʰᵒ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᔆᵃᵐᵐʸ'ˢ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ‧ ᔆᵃᵐᵐʸ ᵍʳᵃᵇˢ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ'ˢ ᴹᵒˡᵉᶜᵘˡᵉ ᴰᵉᵗᵉᶜᵗᵒʳ ᴸⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗˢ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒʸ'ˢ ʳᵉᵃˡ ᵇᵒᵈʸ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᔆᵃᵐᵐʸ ᵈᵉˢᶜʳⁱᵇᵉˢ ᵃˢ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗʳᵒᵘˢ‧ ᵁⁿˡⁱᵏᵉ ᔆᵃᵐᵐʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵒʷ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵇˡᵉ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ʰᵃˢ ᵒⁿᵉ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʷᵒ ᵃʳᵐˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵗᵉⁿⁿᵃ‧ ᴴᵉ ⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗⁱᶠⁱᵉˢ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵃˢ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ʰᵘᵐᵃⁿ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᔆᵃᵐᵐʸ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵒᶠ‧ ᔆᵃᵐᵐʸ ᵃˢᵏˢ ⁱᶠ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ʰⁱᵐ ⁽ᵃˢ ᵃ ᵖᵉᵗ ᵖᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ⁾ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵖᵃʳᵉⁿᵗˢ ˢᵃʸ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ˢᵉⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵃ ᶻᵒᵒ⸴ ᵃˢ ʰᵘᵐᵃⁿˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃⁿ ᵉⁿᵈᵃⁿᵍᵉʳᵉᵈ ˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵉˢ‧‧‧ ᴬᵘᵗʰᵒʳ⁽ˢ⁾ ᴿ‧ᴸ‧ ᔆᵗⁱⁿᵉ
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‧‧‧
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ʙʟɪᴛᴢᴇɴᴋʀɪᴇɢ2194 • 1 ʏʀ. ᴀɢᴏ Tʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴅ ᴘᴏᴋᴇᴅ ɪs ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ's ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ. "Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ," ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ, "ʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ."
ᴸᵃˢᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ ⁱⁿ ⁱˢ ᵃ ʳᵒᵗᵗᵉⁿ‧‧‧ᵍʰᵒˢᵗ! ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᴹᵃᵃˢ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵖᵃʳᵗⁱᶜᵘˡᵃʳˡʸ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱᵈᵉᵃ ᵒᶠ ˢʷⁱᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵒʳ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃᵐᵖ‧ ᴴᵒʷᵉᵛᵉʳ⸴ ʰᵉʳ ᵖᵃʳᵉⁿᵗˢ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ˢⁱᵍⁿᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ ᵘᵖ ᶠᵒʳ ᶜᵃᵐᵖ ᶜᵒˡᵈ ᴸᵃᵏᵉ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ⁱˢ ˡᵒᶜᵃᵗᵉᵈ ⁿᵉᵃʳ ᵃ ˡᵃᵏᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵒᶜᵘˢᵉˢ ᵒⁿ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ⁻ᵇᵃˢᵉᵈ ˢᵖᵒʳᵗˢ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ⸴ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵖᵉʳˢ ᵃʳᵉ ⁱⁿᵗʳᵒᵈᵘᶜᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᴸⁱᶻ⸴ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵖ ᶜᵒᵘⁿˢᵉˡᵒʳˢ‧ ᴸⁱᶻ ˢʰᵃʳᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵖ'ˢ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ ʳᵘˡᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ⁱᵐᵖᵒʳᵗᵃⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ʳᵘˡᵉˢ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵉ "ᵇᵘᵈᵈʸ ˢʸˢᵗᵉᵐ" ᵃˢ ⁿᵒ ᶜᵃᵐᵖᵉʳ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵉⁿᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ᵃ ᵇᵘᵈᵈʸ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵈᵃʸ⸴ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᶜᵃⁿᵒᵉⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴬᶜᶜᵒʳᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵖ'ˢ ʳᵘˡᵉˢ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵃ "ᵇᵘᵈᵈʸ" ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰᵉʳ‧ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᵃˢᵏˢ ᴶᵃⁿ ⁱᶠ ˢʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵖᵃʳᵗⁿᵉʳˢ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴶᵃⁿ ᵈᵉᶜˡⁱⁿᵉˢ‧ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵗᵒ ᴸⁱᶻ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴸⁱᶻ ᶠᵒʳᶜᵉˢ ᴶᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵃʳᵗⁿᵉʳ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ‧ ᵂʰⁱˡᵉ ᶜᵃⁿᵒᵉⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿˢ ᵗᵒ ˡᵒˢᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗʳᵒˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿᵒᵉ‧ ᴶᵃⁿ ʲᵘᵐᵖˢ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵃᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʷⁱᵐˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵒʳᵉ‧ ᴶᵃⁿ'ˢ ʲᵘᵐᵖ ᶠˡⁱᵖˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿᵒᵉ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᴶᵃⁿ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵒʳᵉ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ᵗᵉˡˡˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ⁱⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᶠˡⁱᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵃᵗ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᵍᵒᵉˢ ˢʷⁱᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᵃ ᵈᵉᵉᵖ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ˢᵗᵃʸˢ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳʷᵃᵗᵉʳ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵇᵒᵈʸ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉˢᶜᵘᵉ ʰᵉʳ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ˢʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵘʳᶠᵃᶜᵉˢ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ᶠⁱⁿᵈˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵒⁿᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵛᵃⁿⁱˢʰᵉᵈ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ⸴ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵉᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵇᵃʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵇᵉᵍᵘⁿ ˢⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵖᵒˢˢⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵍⁱᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˢᵘᵐᵐᵉʳ‧ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷˢ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ˢⁱⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ˢʰᵉ ᶠⁱⁿᵈˢ ᵃ ᵍⁱʳˡ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵍⁱʳˡ ⁱⁿᵗʳᵒᵈᵘᶜᵉˢ ʰᵉʳˢᵉˡᶠ ᵃˢ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʷᵃⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ‧ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ ᵃˢᵏˢ ⁱᶠ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ʰᵉʳ ᵇᵘᵈᵈʸ‧ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿˢ ᶠˡᵒᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ‧ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᵃˢˢᵘᵐᵉˢ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ ᵈʳᵒʷⁿᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᶜᵒˡᵈ ᴸᵃᵏᵉ‧ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ʳᵉᶠᵘˢᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ'ˢ ᵇᵘᵈᵈʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵘⁿˢ ᵃʷᵃʸ‧ ᔆᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ⸴ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ'ˢ ᵛⁱˢⁱᵒⁿ ᶠᵃᵈᵉˢ‧‧‧ ᴱᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵉᵉᵐˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ ᴸᵃᵗᵉʳ⸴ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ⁱˢ ᵖʳᵉᵖᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʲᵒⁱⁿ ᵃ ᶜᵃᵐᵖ ᵐᵉᵉᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᵂʰⁱˡᵉ ˢʰᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ˢᵉᵃᵗ⸴ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ˢᵉᵉˢ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ‧ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ ᵒᵘᵗ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᵖʳᵒᵐᵖᵗˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘⁿˢᵉˡᵒʳˢ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ʰᵉʳ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘⁿˢᵉˡᵒʳˢ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵉᵉᵐ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉʳ ᶜᵃᵇⁱⁿ⸴ ʰᵉʳ ᵇᵘⁿᵏ⁻ᵐᵃᵗᵉˢ ˢᵘʳʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ʰᵉʳ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵃᵖᵒˡᵒᵍⁱᶻᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵗʳᵉᵃᵗᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᶠᵒᵘʳ ᵍⁱʳˡˢ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᶠᵉʷ ʰᵒᵘʳˢ ᵗᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵘⁿ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃᵐᵖᵉʳˢ ᵍᵒ ˢʷⁱᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴸⁱᶻ ˢᵘᵖᵉʳᵛⁱˢᵉˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵃᵗᵒᵖ ᵃ ᵐᵒᵗᵒʳᵇᵒᵃᵗ‧ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᵗʳⁱᵉˢ ˢʷⁱᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵍˢⁱᵈᵉ ᴶᵃⁿ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱᶻᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍⁱʳˡ ˢʰᵉ'ˢ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ⁱˢ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ‧ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ ᵗʳⁱᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃᵗᶜʰ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ⸴ ˢᵒ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ˢʷⁱᵐˢ ᵗᵒ ᴸⁱᶻ'ˢ ᵐᵒᵗᵒʳᵇᵒᵃᵗ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵃʳᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵃᵗ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ˢᵉᵉˢ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ‧ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ ᵛᵃⁿⁱˢʰᵉˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱˢ ʳᵉᵖˡᵃᶜᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᴸⁱᶻ‧ ᵂᵒʳʳⁱᵉᵈ⸴ ᴸⁱᶻ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᵗᵒ ᴿⁱᶜʰᵃʳᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿˢᵉˡᵒʳ‧ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᵐᵉᵉᵗˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴿⁱᶜʰᵃʳᵈ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵉ ᵃˢᵏˢ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱᶠ ᵃⁿʸ ᶜᵃᵐᵖᵉʳ ʰᵃˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵈʳᵒʷⁿᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᶜᵃᵐᵖ ᶜᵒˡᵈ ᴸᵃᵏᵉ‧ ᴿⁱᶜʰᵃʳᵈ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁿᵒ ᶜᵃᵐᵖᵉʳˢ ʰᵃᵛᵉ‧ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ˢᵉᵉˢ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴿⁱᶜʰᵃʳᵈ ⁱˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰᵉʳ‧ ᴸᵃᵗᵉʳ⸴ ᴸⁱᶻ ᵗᵉᵃᶜʰᵉˢ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ʰᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ⁻ˢᵏⁱ‧ ᴬˢ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ⁱˢ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ⁻ˢᵏⁱⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵗᵒʷᵃʳᵈˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵗᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ ⁱˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵗʳᵒˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵛᵉʰⁱᶜˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ˡᵉᵗˢ ᵍᵒ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒʷ⁻ʳᵒᵖᵉ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿˢ ˢⁱⁿᵏⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢʰᵉ ⁱˢ ʰᵉˡᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵇʸ ʰᵉʳ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ʲᵃᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ ᵗʳⁱᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵗ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵃᵗ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ʳⁱᵖˢ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ'ˢ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ʲᵃᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ⁱᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵒʳᵉ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ʳᵘⁿˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ⁱˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢʰᵉ ⁱˢ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᴮʳⁱᵃⁿᵃ‧ ᴮʳⁱᵃⁿᵃ ᵃˢᵏˢ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ⁱᶠ ˢʰᵉ ⁱˢ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᵃⁿˢʷᵉʳˢ ᵖᵒˢⁱᵗⁱᵛᵉˡʸ‧ ᴮʳⁱᵃⁿᵃ ʷⁱˢʰᵉˢ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ˡᵘᶜᵏ‧ ᵂʰⁱˡᵉ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ⁱˢ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ʰᵉʳ ʷᵃʸ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒᵒᵈˢ⸴ ˢʰᵉ ⁱˢ ᵐᵉᵗ ᵇʸ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ‧ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿˢ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ʰᵒʷ ˢʰᵉ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ‧ ᴼⁿᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ⸴ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ ˢⁿᵘᶜᵏ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒᵒᵈˢ ᵇʸ ʰᵉʳˢᵉˡᶠ‧ ᴬᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ⸴ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᵈᵉᵃᵈˡʸ ˢⁿᵃᵏᵉˢ ˡⁱᵛᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒᵒᵈˢ‧ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢʰᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᶜᵃʳᵉ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵒ ˢʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ˡᵘʳᵉᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒᵒᵈˢ‧ ᴬ ˢⁿᵃᵏᵉ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿˢ ᶜᵒⁱˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ'ˢ ˡᵉᵍ‧ ᴮᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁿᵃᵏᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵃᵗᵗᵃᶜᵏ⸴ ᴮʳⁱᵃⁿᵃ ᵃᵖᵖᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵐᵒᵛᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ‧ ᴮʳⁱᵃⁿᵃ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ ʰᵃᵈ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ʰᵉʳ ᵈᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵉᵛⁱᵒᵘˢ ˢᵘᵐᵐᵉʳ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒʷ ˢʰᵉ ⁱˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵖʳᵒᵗᵉᶜᵗ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᶜᵃᵐᵖᵉʳˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ‧ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴮʳⁱᵃⁿᵃ ᵃᵍʳᵉᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵇᵘᵈᵈⁱᵉˢ‧ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ ʷᵃⁱˡˢ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵈⁱˢᵃᵖᵖᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵉᵗᵉˡʸ‧ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ᵗʳⁱᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ʰᵘᵍ ᴮʳⁱᵃⁿᵃ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳ ᵃʳᵐˢ ᵖᵃˢˢ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍⁱʳˡ‧ ᴮʳⁱᵃⁿᵃ ʳᵉᵛᵉᵃˡˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ ʰᵃᵈ ˢᵘᶜᶜᵉˢˢᶠᵘˡˡʸ ᵗʳⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ ˡᵃˢᵗ ˢᵘᵐᵐᵉʳ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢʰᵉ ʳᵉᶠᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᴰᵉˡˡᵃ'ˢ ᵇᵘᵈᵈʸ‧ ᴮʳⁱᵃⁿᵃ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿˢ ᵐᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ˢⁿᵃᵏᵉ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵃˢᵏˢ ⁱᶠ ᔆᵃʳᵃʰ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ʰᵉʳ ᵇᵘᵈᵈʸ ᶠᵒʳᵉᵛᵉʳ‧ ᴬᵘᵗʰᵒʳ⁽ˢ⁾ ᴿ‧ᴸ‧ ᔆᵗⁱⁿᵉ
Gᴏ ᴛᴏ TᴡᴏSᴇɴᴛᴇɴᴄᴇHᴏʀʀᴏʀ ʀ/TᴡᴏSᴇɴᴛᴇɴᴄᴇHᴏʀʀᴏʀ 6 ʜʀ. ᴀɢᴏ SᴜᴠᴇɴPᴀɴ I ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴡᴀs ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴅᴅ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀᴍᴏɴɢ ᴍʏ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs. Eᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟsᴇ's ᴘᴀʀᴀᴄʜᴜᴛᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴊᴜsᴛ ғɪɴᴇ.
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..
2020 Update 2012 old 2018 former rec. Ages <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 Age 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
@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.
‘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.
https://www.reddit.com/r/FullEpisodesOfSB/comments/1651tuc/spongebob_full_episode_index/
Common Experiences How has the semester been going for you? Do you understand the assignment that Professor gave us in class? .. . .. What did you do over break? What sort of plans do you have for break? What did you do over the weekend? Anything interesting happen this week? How has work been? What did you think about the school team's last game? Do you know who's going to s party on day? Interests • What sort of movies have you seen lately? Have any goad boak recommendations? Have you been to any great concerts lately? Have you seen any good plays? What did you think about the ball game on day? Non-Question Topics Your surroundings: the weather, an interesting painting or decoration, a peculiar scenic detail Interesting or humorous Current events or news • officials, shared neighbors, new attractions that have recently opened Compliments on appearance changes: hairstyle, clothing, shoes, accessories Recent experiences with friends or family • Humorous story about something that happened earlier in the day or week CONVO.. Common Experiences How has the semester been going for you? Do you understand the assignment that Professor gave us in class? .. . .. What did you do over break? What sort of plans do you have for break? What did you do over the weekend? Anything interesting happen this week? How has work been? What did you think about the school team's last game? Do you know who's going to s party on day? Interests • What sort of movies have you seen lately? Have any goad book recommendations? Have you been to any great concerts lately? Have you seen any good plays? What did you think about the ball game on day? Non-Question Topics Your surroundings: the weather, an interesting painting or decoration, a peculiar scenic detail Interesting or humorous Current events or news • officials, shared neighbors, new attractions that have recently opened Compliments on appearance changes: hairstyle, clothing, shoes, accessories Recent experiences with friends or family • Humor about something that happened earier in the day or week
⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫: :¨ ·.· ¨: ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ `· . ꔫ To all the people who had a rough day, week or month, remember to focus on what you can control, you are enough and you deserve all your desires♡
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."
A: Ⱥ Д ∆ ₳Ꭿ Ꭺ B: ℬ Ᏸ 乃 ط ъ C: 匚 ང Ꮳ D: ƌ Ꭰ Ꮄ ⅅ ⅆ E: ε ཇ Σ Ξ Ꭼ Ꮛ ⅇ F: ན ƒ G: Ꮹ 𠂎 ɠ ʛ Ꮆ Ᏻ H: ħ ℌ Ꮋ Ꮒ Ᏺ I: ༏ ༑ ༐ ⅈ Ꮠ J: 𠃌 Ꭻ Ꮰ ℑ ⅉ K: ƙ L: ℒ Ꮮ ɭ Ꮭ ℓ M: ཀ Ꮇ ᙢ ℳ N: ₪ ת מ ה ས π ℵ O: Ꮎ P: ρ や 尸 Ꮅ Q: Ꭴ R: ર ℜ ཞ ༉ Ꭱ S: Ꭶ T: τ Ꮖ ϯ ד Ꮏ ե Ꭲ U: Ꮜ V: Ꭷ Ꮴ W: Ꮤ ᙡ Ꮚ ש ཡ ш щ ϣ Ꮗ X: ℵ א ж Y: ע ч ɤ ɣ Ꮍ Z: Հ ʑ Ꮓ ℤ
Music, Arts, Crafts, Recipes and Fashion blogging from a Gothic/Dark Romantic perspective. Thursday 30 August 2012 Goth, Definitions and Inclusivity vs. Elitism Today I ended up in a rather involved and passionate debate over what it takes to be a Goth. The term Goth, or any other label, exists to summarise interests in terms of describing an aesthetic, a musical genre, and participation of a subculture. In terms of the word 'Goth' describing a level of participation in the subculture, to me there is a sort of Goth 'triumvirate' of aspects (I know that the word triumvirate refers usually to three leading people) - a Goth is someone that is interested in Goth music, admires the Goth aesthetic (including fashion) and has the broader mindset and lifestyle. A Goth is someone who is involved in all three aspects. Some believe that the term Goth can apply to someone who is involved in only two of the three. I know that what does and does not constitute the music, lifestyle or aesthetic is up for enough debate, let alone the level of involvement it takes to call oneself a Goth, and that each Goth probably has their own standards, but that is the definition I use. What I actually want to talk about is not so much where to draw the line, but how that line is used in the subculture. It seems that in attempts to be very inclusive of people with a variety of interests, all sorts of things that are not actually Goth, and sometimes not even alternative or dark, get lumped under the term, as do other subcultures such as Steampunk and Lolita. I have no problem with being accepting of people with interests in Goth and other subcultures, people who have hybrid subcultural affiliation, and other forms of subcultural and cultural cross-polination, but for the term Goth to remain a useful description, it needs to have some sort of definition. One does not need to say, for example "oh, Gothic Lolita is Goth" or some such in order to socially accept Gothic Lolitas. All that does is muddy the waters and make it more difficult for people to communicate their actual interest - the proliferation of terms has coincided with the proliferation of hybrid subcultures, new subcultures and , with the rise of the internet, a globally connected alternative scene where people want to communicate with and connect to people with similar interests. If the term 'Goth' becomes too broad, it stops signifying a reasonable amount of potential interests and becomes vague. The biggest issue, though, is the imaginary correlation between Goth-ness and acceptance, and a concept that how Goth someone is equates to how cool, or how pretty, or how interesting, or how nice they are as a person or a whole load of other equally unrelated assumptions and non-existent relationships between terms. If you accept or reject people purely on how close they stick to a label, then you are probably a very shallow person indeed - people are a lot more than the sum of their music collection, clothes and interests. There is nothing wrong with being a metalhead that likes Goth fashion, or a Gothic Lolita that likes Goth music, and just using terms like those to describe it should not mean a lack of acceptance by the groups involved, but sadly it seems that some people feel that unless they are 'true Goths' they can't have acceptance, and equally, there are people who would have Goth as an isolated subculture exclusively for participation in by those who are, to them, 'true Goths'. Surely we should be open-minded and accepting enough for it not to matter how Goth someone is? There seems to be a confusion between the exclusivity inherent in a term that describe something - as for a term to be a valid description a word does have to exclude certain things, for example the word purple does not mean pink, red or blue, it only means purple; pink and, red and blue not being purple doesn't make those other colours any less colourful, it just makes them not purple - and a sense of exclusivity in terms of a closed club for only certain people. People should be able to freely participate in the subculture at any level they choose, from an interest in only certain aspects of it, to living as a Goth for all 24 hours of every day, all seven days of every week and all 365 (or 366) days of every year, and do so without judgement. It is far more important for people to be true to themselves than it is for them to adhere to a label. Goth is not an exclusive club or a clique; it is a descriptive term; there is no value judgement to it. It is open to participation by anybody interested, and people can participate at a variety of different levels and contribute in a variety of ways. Acceptance of non-Goths with an interest in the subculture should not be a case of "You're not goth enough, but I still like you" as if whether or not liking someone has ANY RELEVANCE to how much they participate in the subculture, on what level, and in what manner. Those things ARE NOT RELATED, or at least should not be. It is creating some kind of relationship between acceptance and aesthetic/musical preference/lifestyle that I see as the problem. You can like someone who does not have all the exact same interests as you do, and you can despise someone who does - there are certainly people who share a huge amount of common interests with, but whom I cannot stand (and sometimes wish I could hit over the head with a sturdy cane...). If it was not for the term 'Goth' being used for the purposes of creating social boundaries, we'd be discussing what musical techniques define the sound in musical terms, or what artistic movements have contributed and how the visual aesthetic can be described, or some such instead of discussing elitism and exclusivity. To me, Goth is something akin to Romanticism; a creative movement, something defined by a musical and visual aesthetic and way of looking at the world, and therefore, ultimately something like Romanticism or Impressionism. Nobody argues over whether the definitions of either are elitist (or at least not anywhere I come across) because as historical movements of times past, the terms mean little in terms of social inclusion or acceptance in the present day (says someone who calls herself a latter-day Romantic) and thus people feel much freer to define them by specific aesthetic, musical, literary and philosophical styles and differences. It is time that elitism within Goth dissipates, and that people feel free to clear about their interests, and to admit their extra-subcultural interests, or a desire not partake in certain aspects, without people judging them as somehow lesser for not being Goth enough. Such shallowness breeds a feeling that it is somehow not right to explore or other paths, or to admit that for example, one likes the fashion but not the music. There is nothing inherently wrong in liking Goth fashion but preferring say, folk music. It might not be Goth music, but if the person is happy listening to it, then there is no issue. There is far more of an issue when people force themselves to adhere to a certain subculture against their own preferences in order to feel accepted. The HouseCat at 11:49
Music, Arts, Crafts, Recipes and Fashion blogging from a Gothic/Dark Romantic perspective. Saturday 26 November 2011 Cliques, Judging and Subcultures Most goths, at some point, will have been judged for how they look. At the darkest end there are things like when people get beaten up and even killed for how they look, and at the other there's assumptions made such as "goths are rude and pretentious" etc. We don't like being judged for being goths. We shouldn't do it to other groups. Just because someone wears fashionable clothes, that doesn't make them snobby and elitist about those who don't. Just because someone wears over-sized plastic-rim glasses and plimsols does not make them vacant and pretentious. Just because someone is wearing tracksuit bottoms and hooded jumper, that does not make them rude and violent (maybe they're going to the gym!). Just because someone wears skinny jeans and has dyed black hair does not mean they are histrionic attention-seekers. Goths aren't inherently nicer than everyone, that's why I have to make this post. Really, there is no reason for me to elaborate this into a vast wall of text. Yes, there are a disproportionate amount of certain types of bad behaviour in certain groups which is why some of these stereotypes exist in the first place, but even if there are more thugs that wear tracksuit bottoms and hooded jumpers than wear designer jeans, that doesn't mean that wearing a tracksuit makes someone a thug. That same logic goes for the other things. I may not LIKE any of those other styles, and think that a lot of them look terribly hideous, but I deal with that by NOT WEARING THEM and wearing things I don't think look hideous. I do not hate other styles, although I do think they are sometimes rather amusing (like when people wear logo or slogan t-shirts and have no idea what they represent, or when they walk around with their trousers halfway down their rears) but I also realise I'm probably amusing trying to run for the bus in platform boots. Other people are entitled to the same freedom of expression as we are.
I Want to Help It was a beautiful morning when I woke up, the sun shining through and the wildlife up and about. I went for my morning stroll, taking my usual route. I stopped by the surface of the water, when I saw the most peculiar thing: a little girl… In there. Couldn’t she breathe? Why didn’t she come out? Panicking, I reached out and grabbed her arms, yanking her out of it and holding her close to me. She started to scream, but then seemed to be choking. I tried to calm her down. “Shh… Everything is fine, little one, I saved you! Relax! Breathe in!” But she wouldn’t. And soon, despite all my efforts, she went limp. Not again! I couldn’t understand. I had taken her out of that horrible, disgusting air, and into the safety of the water. What had I done wrong this time? Maybe my tentacles frighten them. Maybe I wasn’t gentle enough. Human children are so unpredictable. I’ll save one for real next time, I swear.
My family Story by Pansyk I died eight years ago. It wasn’t particularly tragic. Or unusual. Just a car accident. I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wife was in labor, and there was black ice on the road. He lost control of the car and I lost my life. It's not his fault. I know that. I’m not cruel. I am not vengeful. If anything, I’m the opposite.. ↓Keep reading ↓ 31ST OCT 2020 u/Pansyk I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wi҉fé was in labour, and lost control of the car and I lost my lįfe. It's not his fault. I am not vengeful. I’m the opposite. You see, I don’t have any family left and I had lost my few friends around that time. When it was time for my funeral, the only people who came was my boss and the family of the man who kılled me. The wi҉fé held her newborn daughter Lily close to her. I hated my boss, and the cemetery was awfully lonely, so I followed the family home. Lily may as well have been my own flesh and bľood. She was sweet, and bright, and oh so very small. She had trouble sleeping if someone wasn’t rocking her crib and her parents were so tired. After they put her to bed, it was easy for me to rock her crib for her. I didn’t get tired. I could help her. As the years passed, Jack and Lori realised that they weren’t alone in the house. It didn’t take long from there to make a connection between my funeral and when I had showed up. And I’d never been malevolent, so they weren’t afraid or angry. They started to burn candles on the anniversary of my dEath day. They left an empty chair for meals and holidays. I really felt like… A member of the family. Someone is trying to force the door. Its Lori’s ex. He’s obsessive. He’s angry. He’s going to hur͘t the family. My family. The thing about ghosts, is that the more offerings you get, the stronger you become. Id been enjoying candles, trinkets, and even the occasional food item for the past five years. I was strong from that. The kn1fe feels warm in my hand. A shock of heat against the ice of my skin. Lori, Jack, and Lily are my family. I care about them. And they’re not gonna join me yet.
6:57 AM 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 : At the end of the day it all depends on you, so why you still blaming every negative outcome on other people? Stop putting so much effort in negative thoughts and start doing something productive.
𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 ౨ৎ 1 don’t compare yourself to other people 2 repeat number 1 daily
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.”
Gᴏᴛ ᴀ sɴᴀᴋᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ sᴛᴏᴍᴘᴇᴅ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴇʟ ᴏғ ʜɪs ʙᴏᴏᴛ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ɪᴛ. Lᴀᴛᴇʀ ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ʜᴇ ɢᴀᴠᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʜᴏsᴛ, ᴀs ʜɪs ʙᴇғᴜᴅᴅʟᴇᴅ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ʀᴀᴄᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ Pᴀ. "Sᴏɴ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʟᴅ ʙᴏᴏᴛs. Hᴇ ᴅɪᴇᴅ ɪɴ 'ᴇᴍ, ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴏғ ғᴀᴄᴛ. Wᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ʜɪᴍ ᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. Wᴇʟʟ, I ʀᴇᴄᴋᴏɴ ʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. Hᴇʀᴇ—" Mᴀ, ᴡɪᴘɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴛᴇᴀʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜᴇʀ sᴇᴀᴍᴇᴅ ᴏʟᴅ ᴄʜᴇᴇᴋ, ʜᴀɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪʀ ᴏғ ʙᴏᴏᴛs ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴀs ᴀɴ ʜᴇɪʀʟᴏᴏᴍ. Hᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ɴᴏᴛ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜᴇɴᴄᴇ ʜᴇ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴍʏsᴛᴇʀɪᴏᴜs sʜᴀᴅᴇ. Dʀᴇssɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ, ʜɪs ɴᴇᴡʟʏ ᴡɪᴅᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴡɪғᴇ ʜᴜɢɢᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ sᴏɴ. "Bᴏʏ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢʀᴀɴᴅғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅɪᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴛs ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅɪᴅ. Tᴀᴋᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴇ..." Oғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴏʀ ʙᴏʏ ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ ᴍᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ ғᴀᴛᴇ. Hɪs ᴡɪғᴇ ʜᴇʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴛs. Lᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʟʏ, sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴇʏᴇ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ғᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏᴏᴛʜ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ sɴᴀᴋᴇ, sᴛɪʟʟ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴠᴇɴᴏᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏɪsᴏɴ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs. Lᴏᴅɢᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴍʙᴇᴅᴅᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴛs.
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AGE APPELLATIVE 10-19: denarian 20-29: vicenarian 30-39: tricenarian 40-49: quadragenarian 50-59: quinquagenarian 60-69: sexagenarian 70-79: septuagenarian 80-89: octogenarian 90-99: nonagenarian 100-109: centenarian 110-119: centeni denarian 120-129: centeni vicenarian 130-139: centeni tricenarian 140-149: centeni quadragenarian 150-159: centeni quinquagenarian 160-169: centeni sexagenarian 170-179: centeni septuagenarian 180-189: centeni octogenarian 190-199: centeni nonagenarian 200-209: ducenarian 210-219: duceni denarian 220-229: duceni tricenarian 230-239: duceni tricenarian 240-249: duceni quadragenarian 250-259: duceni quinquagenarian 260-269: duceni sexagenarian 270-279: duceni septuagenarian 280-289: duceni octogenarian 290-299: duceni nonagenarian 300-309: trecenarian 310 - 319: treceni denarian ... 400-409: quadringenarian 410-419: quadringeni denarian ... 500-509: quingenarian ... 600-609: sescenarian ... 700-709: septingenarian ... 800-809: octingenarian ... 900-909: nongenarian ... 980-989: nongeni octogenarian 990-999: nongeni nonagenarian 1000-1009: millenarian
r/shortscarystories 5 days ago DottedWriter My Former Highschool Bully Apologized To Me Today I stared at her as she sobbed on her knees "Alice, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for everything! I'm sorry for every horrible thing I've done to you!" Sophia said as she wept in front of me. I just stared at her as she continued to sob over all of the things she had done to me. She would directly insult or make demeaning JOKeS about me, spread n͟asty rumours about me, manipulate my friends against me, şteal a guy I had a crush on, make horrible posts about me on social media, and even manipulate some guys into doing things like jum͜ping̨ me. She did everything if it meant I suffered in the end. I tried to tell my teachers about this, but they just turned a deaf ear, and I didn’t even bother talking to my parents about it, they were more focussed on their jobs than me. And even then, if Sophia found out I snitched, that would result in an extra beating from her and her cronies. She was behind all of my sufferıng, enjoyed the despair on my face, she enjoyed how much ab*se she inflected on me. So you could only imagine my surprise when she approached me one day and started to apologise tearfully to me As she continued to cry, my eyes started to spark with anger, anger that I had suppressed inside me for the past 5 years after highschool . I had no one to turn to for support, absolutely no one. And she dared to spew her little crocodile tears right in front of me. I had enough of it. I floated around my grave until I was behind her, I stared at her for a long minute, before I plunged my hand into her chest. She tensed up, and some of her bľood splattered onto my grave. I dug through her organs before I found what I was looking for. Her heart. It was still beating as she collapsed to the ground, her hands clutching at the wound at a desperate attempt to cover the bleeding. She coughed out błoođ, and wheezed as she continue to bleed out. I stared at how pathetic and pitiful she looked now. I stared at her as a twisted, evil, and satisfied grin crept onto my face .
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.
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.
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.
→ ιƒ 10 ρєσρℓє ¢αяє 4 υ, σηє σƒ тнєм ιѕ мє, ιƒ 1 ρєяѕση ¢αяєѕ 4 υ тнαт ωσυℓ∂ вє мє αgαιη, ιƒ ησ 1 ¢αяєѕ 4 υ тнαт мєαηѕ ι м ησт ιη тнιѕ ωσяℓ∂. → ιƒ ι нα∂ σηє ℓαѕт ωιѕн вєƒσяє ι ∂ιє … му ℓαѕт ωιѕн ωσυℓ∂ вє тнαт , уσυ ωιℓℓ ηєνєя ¢яу → тяυє ¢αяє ωιℓℓ ηєνєя gσ υηяє¢σgηιzє∂, тнσυgн σηє σƒтєη мαкєѕ мιѕтαкєѕ ιη ναℓυιηg ιт, вυт σηє ωιℓℓ ∂єƒιηιтℓу υη∂єяѕтαη∂ ση¢є ωнєη тнєу ѕтαят мιѕѕιηg ιт. → мαη тσ gσ∂: “ρℓєαѕє gινє мє єνєяутнιηg ѕσ тнαт ι ¢αη єηנσу ℓιƒє…” gσ∂ ѕмιℓє∂ αη∂ яєρℓιє∂: “ι нανє gινєη уσυ ℓιƒє тσ єηנσу єνєяутнιηg…” → ι ωιѕн αη αηgєℓ σƒ мєя¢у αℓωαуѕ ѕιтѕ ηєχт тσ уσυ &αмρ; ¢σνєяѕ уσυ ωιтн gєηтℓє ωιηgѕ ѕσ тнαт, уσυ ωαℓк ωяαρρє∂ ιη αℓℓαн’ѕ gяα¢є, ρяσтє¢тє∂ &αмρ; ρєα¢єƒυℓ ƒσяєνєя → ℓιƒє ιѕ ℓιкє α мιяяσя. ιƒ уσυ ƒяσωη αт ιт, ιт ƒяσωηѕ вα¢к. ιƒ уσυ ѕмιℓє αт ιт, ιт яєтυяηѕ тнє gяєєтιηg.
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.
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.
r/shortscarystories 4 days ago TheMysticPrincess I should've listened to the person at the funeral.... My grandma loved crafts; knitting, stitching, sewing, embroidery, if it involved yarn or thread, it was something she loved, and I loved watching it. Whenever I went to her house, I'd spend hours watching her craft while she told me stories. One of her favorite things to craft were dolls, specifically felt dolls with button eyes. They were all different in sizes, shapes, colors, clothing, but the one thing they had in common was that they always had an image embroidered in them over the heart; the images varied from cars to bottles to apples and many of them she made of people she knew. They were also her favorite things to give to people. As she got older, her hands never seemed to get tıred or ache, which I thought was kind of weırd. She told me it was because of all her crafting that her hands were so strong. I was just a kid, so I believed her. I mean there wasn't any other explanation, right? I also began to notice whenever grandma gave someone a doll, they'd have this look of....panic in their eyes. I never asked why. I didn't think it was any of my business. The inevitable day came and we had to bury her. There weren't a lot of people at the funerαl, which was odd; grandma knew and befriended a lot of people during her life, surely they wouldn't miss this for the world. I decided to talk to one of the few who did show up; I mentioned it and they replied "....I'm guessing no one ever told you." They explained that each time she'd sew a lookalike and give it to someone, they'd die the next day. A gîrl who had tried to seduce grandpa got one with the patch of a car; she ended up getting into a car crash and didn't make it. Someone who had called her a pig and tried to stuff an apple in her mouth got one with an apple; a piece of one got lodged in their trachea and they couldn't get it out in time. Her best friend who was moving away got a glass of filtered water; the autopsy showed cyanide in her b!ood. They told me more of these, but I brushed them off as coincidences; there's no way a doll could ķíľľ people. Even if it was true, it'd be over nơw. Years later my mother diεd in her sleep, leaving me alonȩ with the house. After the funerαl, I was cleaning up her things when I found something in the bed that made my b!ood run cøld; a lookalike doll with 3 Zs as a patch over the heart. Which leads me to now; yesterday I found a doll outside my door and it looks like me. Over the heart is a patch of a kn*fe. I mean, it's weird, but I don't think it's anything to woŗry̕ ....Why did I just hear the front door open?
r/shortscarystories 1 mo. ago Haunting-Buyer8532 All of our children keep dy1ng. This all started when our first child, Amy, was born. She would alwaყs wind up in these horrible accidents. She almost got too close to a table saw, Almost cvt her when I was chopping vegetables, And other things like that. She d1ed when she was barely a year old. Ended up bre4king her neck after fąlling on her fac͘e in the crib. Years after her d3ath, we started over with Elise, our second child. She barely made it to six months before she d1ed. Apparently, she somehow managed to get on the roof of the h̴ouse. Have you ever seen how a baby ruptures when it falls from two stories? I tried convincing my wife over and over again not to try again. She still got us a new baby, she just adopted it instead of the “natural way”. I barely come near my own child. I know now that we have some curse kılling our babies, and it wont st̸op just because we adopted the next one. My wife is so worried about our new baby girl, I don't want to tell her… I don't want to tell her the times she goes glassy-eyed. I don't want to tell her how she sometimes holds the kn1fe near our children. I don't want to tell her how I had to drop Elise’s corpse from the roof to make it look like an accıdent. Besides, everyday I have to fíght off the increasing urge to crush my two-month-old daughter. Just like I did with Amy and Elise.
Not only have we implanted a lifetime of human memories into this rat but we can now monitor what it's thinking. It appears to think it's reading the second line of a two sentence story on-line right now..
r/shortscarystories 23 hr. ago captain-howdy2323 Unknown Stranger Oh my! I can hear him moving around down stairs. Can I remember if I heard him come inside? Idk. I must have because I've armed myself. I cower away in this closet. But I can't remember any of that. I must be in shock. Oh my heart is racing. I hear him coming up the stairs. It won't be long until he finds me. I can already see what everyone will be saying. "Man found in house", "The bloodbath". He's right outside the room. I'm breathing so heavily. I'm sure he can hear me. Please, stop shaking. Please, nerves calm down. He's opening the door. This is it. Finally. I've been waiting in his closet for hours.
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