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pls note the ai inflicts emotional damage (ᵕ—ᴗ—)
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Kept In Dark "I'm worried about myself," Nick said. "Maybe you should be," I told him. "Can't we turn on some lights?" "Not yet." Sometimes it's hard to tell when a friend is joking. But Nick had sounded truly nervous when he asked me to come over this afternoon, so I decided to take him seriously. "What's got you freaked out?" "I've been having dark thoughts lately." "Everyone has dark thoughts." "Not like these. They're sick, man. I don't know where they come from." "Horror movies?" "No, I don't watch those. But I've... I've also been having these crazy dreams. Really vivid. Like, apocalyptic, with demons. I'm afraid to sleep." "You have been looking kind of washed out lately," | admitted. "Maybe see a doctor?" "Wouldn't help." "Why not?" "Because there's more to it. That's why I called. I need you to tell me if you see it, too." "See what?" Nick stood up and walked to his window, where the sun glowed faintly behind cheap venetian blinds. He pointed at the floor. "Watch that spot. Right there." "The carpet?" "Just watch. Please." "Fine." The carpet looked normal, not even a stain. Then I heard Nick take a deep breath, followed by the clacking blinds as he pulled the cord to expose the sunlight. "Jeez!" I cried, yanking my feet off the ground as a dark shape came slithering forward. It disappeared directly under the couch where I sat. "Oh gosh," Nick moaned. "You saw it." "That's... impossible. Was that really your...?" "Yeah," he nodded miserably. "I've heard of being afraid of your own shadow, but why is mine scared of me? What does it know? by IPostAtMidnight
When / was younger, my uncle John was going through a divorce. He came round to our house to get some advice from my parents and at one point said he could feel the energy of two children, a boy and a girl, in one corner of the room. Soon after, four year old me walks into the room and I said "The children woke me up." My folks asked what children, so I point to the same corner uncle john mentioned and say "Those children" and everyone went pale and quiet. - cocgamer
The clown statue A couple with children were trying out a new babysitter. About an hour after they left for a night on the town, they realized they had forgotten to give her their cell phone number, so one of them called her. After she wrote down the number, the babysitter asked if she could watch satellite TV in their bedroom. She had just put the children to bed and wanted to watch a particular show. (The parents didn't want their children watching too much garbage, so the living room TV did not have satellite channels.) Well of course she could watch TV in their room, they replied. The babysitter had one other request: could she put a sheet or blanket over the clown statue that was in the bedroom? It kind of made her nervous. "Take the children and go to the neighbors," said the parent. "We don't have a clown statue, we'll call the police." The police caught the clown as he was running through the neighborhood.
Please no d£ath threats to ppl who make fanfic thx and have a nice day
There's No Reason to Be Afraid By Reddit user by whoeverfightsmonster ~ When my sister Betsy and I were kids, our family lived for awhile in a charming old farmhouse. We loved exploring its dusty corners and climbing the apple tree in the backyard. But our favorite thing was the ghost. We called her Mother, because she seemed so kind and nurturing. Some mornings Betsy and I would wake up, and on each of our nightstands, we'd find a cup that hadn't been there the night before. Mother had left them there, worried that we'd get thirsty during the night. She just wanted to take care of us. Among the house's original furnishings was an antique wooden chair, which we kept against the back wall of the living room. Whenever we were preoccupied, watching TV or playing a game, Mother would inch that chair forward, across the room, toward us. Sometimes she'd manage to move it all the way to the center of the room. We always felt sad putting it back against the wall. Mother just wanted to be near us. Years later, long after we'd moved out, I found an old newspaper article about the farmhouse's original occupant, a widow. She'd murdered her two children by giving them each a cup of poisoned milk before bed. Then she'd hanged herself. The article included a photo of the farmhouse's living room, with a woman's body hanging from a beam. Beneath her, knocked over, was that old wooden chair, placed exactly in the center of the room.
CRYBABY Late last night I woke up to the sound of someone crying. It was an eerie sound, and surprisingly loud as well. Although I wanted to get up and go check it out, I was a bit scared and tired so l ignored it by hiding under the covers. Today at breakfast I told my roommate about it. "That was me." She replied with a tone of fear in her voice. What a relief, I thought. "I was crying because I saw a... a thing watching you while you were asleep." @Death.and.Terror
₊˚⊹♡📚𝓑𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓼
𓇢𓆸
|❀|gigi|❀|
𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ☁️📖🧸🐣🎧
📖📚
૮・ﻌ・ა₊˚⊹♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑⋆˚✿˖°ᯓᡣ𐭩✮๋࣭ ⭑♡૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆。˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡✮✮ᯓ★ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆
⋆🐾°
°‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:・°❀.ೃ࿔*°❀.ೃ࿔*༘⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆ°‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎ ☕︎
🐠🐬🌈🫧✨🐧🐻🪸༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:・ ツ
🕵‍♀⃔📖⃕👩‍❤️‍👨
📚, 🎧, 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒
🤍 🕊️🖇️˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆。˚
📖💌🤍🌹
My first Warriors Fanfic piece: written on 11/28/24 DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT ASKING ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Greenkit lay curled up in her nest, but sleep refused to visit her. She yawned and stretched, but her eyes remained stubbornly open as she gazed up at the stars twinkling through the den entrance. She tried counting them, but she lost track after the first dozen. She tried closing her eyes and picturing a warm, cozy place, but all she could see was the darkness around her, and the silhouettes of her slumbering littermates. She was getting more and more frustrated by the minute, and she couldn't help but let out a pitiful mew. Sootcloud, Greenkit's father, heard her cry from the other side of the nursery den and padded over to her. "What's wrong, my little one?" he asked tenderly. "I can't go to sleep, Dada," Greenkit replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've tried everything I can think of, but sleep won't come." Sootcloud smiled knowingly and sat down beside her. "Ah, I remember those nights," he said. "When I was just a kit, I used to have the same trouble. But I learned a trick that always put me to sleep." Greenkit's ears perked up. "What trick?" she asked eagerly, her stubby ginger tabby tail swishing. Sootcloud licked her forehead affectionately. "I sing," he said simply. “I sing just like my mother did. I sing, just like the Sisters.” Greenkit rolled her eyes. "Daddy, I know you're a great singer, but I doubt that will work." Sootcloud chuckled. "Not just any song, my dear. A very special one, a song about the wonders of the night and the mystery of the northern wind." Greenkit looked at him skeptically. "I don't know that I've ever heard that one." "Of course, you have," Sootcloud said. "It's the song I always sang to you when you were just a tiny kit, remember?" Greenkit thought for a moment, and then she nodded. "Oh, that song! I love that one." "Good," Sootcloud said, and began to sing softly: "Hush, little one What do you hear? The wolf's howl deep in the forest, And the foxes' yowl in search of food. The owl screeches as she flies above, A symphony of sounds, all sung in nocturnal rhyme. But don't be afraid, dear For the night is a friend She covers our fur with her dark pelt, She wraps us in her stealthy embrace. With peaceful darkness, a calm, gentle wind The northern wind whispers in the trees Its chilly breath, the midnight breeze Feel how the wind blows through your bones! See the treetops shake and shiver...! So, close your eyes, and let dreams take flight. As you drift off to sleep in the beauty of the night. For the stars will shine and the moon will glow And the wonders of the night will forever call. The wolf howls through the forest. He wants to but cannot rest. His pack is hungry, and it’s cold in their den. The north wind ruffles his fur as it brings the scent of prey. The wolf raises his savage head, ready for the kill. Hush now, little holly berry, sweet slumber to thee May the mysteries of the night be yours to see The northern wind has tales to tell, of lands beyond where spirits dwell. Mysterious and unknown to all Yet the wind remembers them…as the leaves fall…” Greenkit felt her eyes start to droop as her father's voice wrapped her in a warm sense. She snuggled down into her nest, feeling the rhythm of the song like a lullaby. The words were like a story, a tale of mystery and beauty that captured her imagination. Gradually, she felt herself drifting off, the edges of sleep tugging at her mind. Sootcloud lowered his voice, slowing the tempo of the song, until he was hardly singing at all. His eyes were closed, and Greenkit couldn't tell if he was still singing or not. She lay there for a moment, listening to the silence, and then glanced up at her father. Sootcloud's eyes were open, and she could see the moon reflected in them. He smiled down at her, his face touched by the light of the stars. Greenkit smiled back, feeling her eyelids drift shut. The last thing she heard was her father's voice, soft and gentle as a breeze, singing to her of night and wonder and the mystery of the world beyond. And then she slept, peaceful and content, dreaming of all the amazing things the nighttime held.
📚📚📚📚book, bookᯓ ᡣ𐭩 𝄞 ˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆
📚📚📚📚read, bookᯓ ᡣ𐭩 𝄞 ˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚*ੈ𑁍༘⋆*ੈ𑁍༘⋆*ੈ𑁍༘⋆*ੈ𑁍༘⋆ 𐙚 *ੈ𑁍༘⋆✎✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗
📚📚📚📚book, bookᯓ ᡣ𐭩
📚read, bookᯓ ᡣ𐭩 ˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚☽˚。⋆˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚*ੈ𑁍༘⋆*ੈ𑁍༘⋆*ੈ𑁍༘⋆*ੈ𑁍༘⋆ 𐙚 *ੈ𑁍༘⋆✎✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗✎ᝰ.📓🗒 ˎˊ˗
ᯓ ᡣ𐭩⋆.˚🦋༘⋆ᯓ ᡣ𐭩📕
💗💓💗💗🌸🌸🌸🌸🫀💕ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆
📖📕📚-`♡´-📕-`♡´-.☘︎ ݁˖ 𐙚
‧₊˚📖✩ ₊˚🕯️⊹♡
🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆📚ˎˊ˗⋆。°✩📄
✮⋆˙˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆。˚˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆。˚
Somewhere, on a rutted, nearly impassible back road in rural Monroe, Connecticut, stands what locals call the House of the Faceless People. This ancient farmhouse is enclosed within a forest of gnarled, bent, and bony-looking trees, and all of its windows are boarded up. If visited at night, the house will be entirely dark. However, on certain occasions a dim kerosene lamp can be seen through the slats covering one of the windows. This, it is said, is the caretaker's room. He's an old man who oversees the faceless ones. Though he is occasionally spotted working around the yard or chasing away cars that pass by too slowly, his faceless charges remain nothing but a mystery. Some believe the house's inhabitants are the fabled Melonheads, however, no one truly knows who, or what, can be found inside the House of the Faceless People…
+ The Operation On the farthest point of Long Island, the last scrap of land that still counts as New York, there sits a tremendous, abandoned building. Protected by its own isolated location, there is also at any given time two to three Security Guards there. However, if one approaches the cast iron gates on the night of December 4th, you will see that on this night, even those few security guards refuse to work. The gates are left unlocked, and the wind will be utterly still, a nearly opaque fog filling the peninsula. Go directly to the main doors and step within, there will be a single long hallway, the end occluded by that fog. If you look to either side upon entering, you will see a modern operating room through a glass door. The further in that you walk, the older the equipment will get and the more old fashioned the doctors will be dressed. When you can finally come upon the end of the hallway, the screams of the patients will be nearly deafening. The hall will terminate in an open door leading to a single wooden table where a man in woolen medical clothing, stained brown from blood, will be bent over a corpse. The body's face will be covered, and the man will turn silently, screwing the top onto a cloudy jar of liquid, filled to the brim. He will hand this abnormally heavy object to you, before turning back to his work. Instantly, you will be outside of those cast iron gates. From that point on, disease and injury will never affect you, but if you ever open that cloudy jar and pull out the contents... you will find a heart, pulsing and beating loudly in your palm. A sudden feeling of horror and revulsion will pass through you as realization strikes, that you have just pulled your own living heart from your chest.
book 📚📚🎀 *ੈ✩‧₊˚
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