Sophiacore Emojis & Text

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 .

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

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

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

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

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

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.

– ̗̀ 𝓗𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔫𝔫𝔞 𝔥𝔞𝔱𝔢 ̖́- ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ✧

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

r/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..

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.

‘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.

Harry Ziegland, the suitor who had broken his sister’s heart, prompting her to take her life. The brother shot at Ziegland, who fell to the ground. However, the bullet meant for Ziegland did not strike him. Instead, it lodged itself into a nearby tree. Three years later, Ziegland was working to clear that same location and used dynamite to remove the tree. The explosion sent the bullet flying -- fatally striking Ziegland.

☆꧁lil reminder!: 𝘉𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘴. ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 1 day ago dreamisland123456 ᶜᵒⁿˢᶦˢᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ᵍᵒʳᵉ "I'm getting my revenge!" She screamed, preparing to plunge the kn1fe into my chest. But it's to bad she has the wrong twin.

Alice's Story Alice Kilvert, aged 15, died on Tuesday, 26th November 1991 of tampon-related Toxic Shock Syndrome at Trafford General Hospital, Manchester. Alice's symptoms were initially very mild and did not cause any undue concern. On the Sunday prior to her dEAth she complained of a headache which persisted, but eased with aspirin. During Sunday evening she was able to watch television, but she was sick͞ during the night. Although very pale on Monday morning, she went to school in order to start her mock GCSE exams, but was taken home as she appeared to be developing influenza.. Alice went sraight to bed and by tea time she had a slight temperature. At 7pm she was alert enough to talk about the early evening TV she had missed, but by 10pm she seemed vague and confused and a little faint. The next morning Alice's breathing was shallow and she had a higher temperature, so the emergency doctor was called. The doctor phoned for an ambulance for Alice to be taken to hospıtal, but when the ambulance staff tested for bľood pressure, it was so low it hardly registered. She arrived at hospıtal at 9am and her condition was diagn0sed as either TOXIC SHOCK SYNDROME or meningitis, and treatment began. She was taken into Intensive Care and put onto a ventilator as her breathing was giving cause for concern. However, the strain on her heart brought on two cardiac arrests. She did not recover from the second one and died at 1pm. http://www.tamponalert.org.uk/akta/alicesst.htm

ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᴼⁿ! ⁽ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ⁻ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵘᵖ⸴ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ⁻ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ⁾ 'ᴬʳᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᵃᵈʸ?' ᴵ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ⸴ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃʳʳʸ ᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵖˡᵃⁿ‧ ᴴⁱ⸴ ᵐʸ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ ⁱˢ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧ ᴹʸ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ⁱˢ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵐʸ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵍᵉʳ ⁱˢˢᵘᵉˢ⸴ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵈᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ⸴ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ‧ ᴵ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ ˢⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵃᵖ ᵈᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵒᵛⁱᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ ᵂᵉ ᶜᵘᵈᵈˡᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵇᵉᵈᵗⁱᵐᵉ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵍⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵐᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰⁱⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵒʷ ʷᵉᵃᵏⁿᵉˢˢ⸴ ⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵖˡᵃⁿ ᶠᵃⁱˡᵘʳᵉ ʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵍⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵃ ᵇʳⁱᵉᶠ ˢᵉⁿᵗᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ʷʳᵒⁿᵍ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ˢᵒ ᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵒ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ʳᵃⁿ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᶜʳʸⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᴵ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᶜʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴸᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ‧‧‧" "ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʰᵘᵐⁱˡⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ˢᵒ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ!" ᴴᵉ ʸᵉˡˡᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵃʳᶜᵃˢᵗⁱᶜ ʷⁱᶠᵉ‧ ᴵ ʷʰⁱᵐᵖᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵗᵉʳˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᴵ ˡⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʰᵘᵍᵍᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ‧ ᔆᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗ ⁽ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ʰᵉ ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵃⁿᵍʳʸ⁾ ᴹᵃᵈᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵐᵃᵈ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ ᵃᵗ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ! ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ᵉⁿᵉᵐⁱᵉˢ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˢᵒ ʰᵘʳᵗ‧ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᵗˢ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᵗˢ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˡᵉᵛᵉˡ! ᴵ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʷⁱⁿᵈᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ⸴ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵐʸ ᵐᵃⁿ! ᴵ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʷⁱⁿᵈᵒʷ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵖᵉᵉᵏᵉᵈ ⁱᵗ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧ "ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵃ ʲᵒᵏᵉ!" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢʰᵉᵈ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ‧ ᵂʰʸ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉ ᵖⁱᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ˢⁱᶻᵉ? ᔆᵘʳᵉ⸴ ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ʳⁱᵛᵃˡˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᵘʳˢ ⁱˢ ˢˡᵒʷ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃᵐ ᶠᵘʳⁱᵒᵘˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʲᵘᵐᵖᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᴵ ᵍʳᵒʷˡᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵒᶠ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ‧ ᴵ'ˡˡ ˢʰᵒʷ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ ᵃ ʲᵒᵏᵉ! ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈⁿᵗ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴵ ˢⁿᵘᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ‧ ᴵ ⁱᵍⁿᵒʳᵉᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉ ᵐᵉ‧ ᴹʸ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ᴳᵃʳʸ'ˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵖᵉᵗ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵒⁿ ˢᵒᵐᵉʷʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵉᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵉʳᵐˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ; ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ⁱᶠ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵒʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧ ᴺᵒ⸴ ᴵ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˡᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵍᵉᵗ ˢᵃᵗⁱˢᶠᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒⁱᵗˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵐᵃʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵃᵐᵒʳᵖʰᵒᵘˢ ˢʰᵃᵖᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐˢ ⁿᵒʳ ᶜˡᵃʷ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵉⁿᵉᵐⁱᵉˢ⸴ ˢᵒ ʷʰʸ ⁿᵒᵗ‧‧‧ ᴱʸᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉʷʰᵃᵗ ʳᵉᵈ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵉᵐᵉʳᵍᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱˢ ʳᵒᵒᵐ‧ "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ⸴ ᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵛ ˢᶜʳᵉᵉⁿ‧‧‧" ᴴᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ⸴ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵉˣʰᵃᵘˢᵗᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸˢ ᵒʳᵈᵉᵃˡ‧ ᴴᵉ ʰᵉˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ᵃˢ ᴾᵉʳᶜʰ ᴾᵉʳᵏⁱⁿˢ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒᵒᵗᵃᵍᵉ ˢᵉᵍᵐᵉⁿᵗ ⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᴮⁱᵏⁱⁿⁱ ᴮᵒᵗᵗᵒᵐ ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ‧ "ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ⸴ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵖᵒᵖᵘˡᵃʳ ᵇᵉˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ⸴ ⁱˢ ⁱⁿᵈᵉᶠⁱⁿⁱᵗᵉˡʸ ᶜˡᵒˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ʰⁱˢ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃˡˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʷʰᵃᵗ ˢᵉᵉᵐˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˢᶜʳᵃᵗᶜʰᵉˢ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᵛᵉʳ‧‧‧" ᴵ ᵗᵃᵍᵍᵉᵈ ᵐʸ ᵗᵃⁱˡ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⸴ ʷʰᵒ ˢᵃᵗ ᵘᵖ ˢᵗʳᵃⁱᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉʷˢ‧ "ᴴᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃⁿ ᵘⁿᵏⁿᵒʷⁿ ᵇˡᵘʳ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵃʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ ˢˡⁱᵐᵉ ᵃᵗᵗᵃᶜᵏᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵖʳᵉˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ᶜʰᵃʳᵍᵉˢ ᵈᵘᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵈ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵒⁿᵉʸ‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᶜʳᵉᵉⁿ‧ "ᔆᵖᵒᵗ⸴ ᵈⁱᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒ‧‧‧" ᴵ ʲᵘᵐᵖᵉᵈ ᵉˣᶜⁱᵗᵉᵈˡʸ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵐᵉ⸴ ᵃˢ ᴵ ⁽ᵗᵉᵐᵖᵒʳᵃʳⁱˡʸ⁾ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʳⁱᵛᵃˡ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᶠᵒʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᶠⁱⁿᵉ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵇᵒᵈʸ ᵐᵉˢˢᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐʸ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ‧ ᴬⁿʸᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵈⁱˢˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱˢ ᵃⁿ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ᵇᵒᵒᵏ‧

In memory of Alice 26th September 1997, 1:00am One day 15-year-old Alice Kilvert was revising for her mock GCSEs. The next she was đeađ. Toxic Shock Syndrome was to blame. Now her teacher mother has sworn that no other schoolgirl should meet the same fate. Reva Klein reports. It was the night before her moc͞k GCSEs at Urmston Grammar School in Manchester that 15-year-old Alice Kilvert complained of aches. Her parents Jenny and Peter weren’t unduly concerned and saw her off to school the next day. Thirty-six hours later, while her schoolmates were fighting the butterflies in their stomachs before their next exam, Alice was fıghtıng for her life in intensive care. She lost the figEht. Doctors unequivocally cited Toxic Shock Syndrome (TSS) as the cause of dEath. Alice had been menstruating and using tampons when she became ıll. Six years on, Alice’s geology teacher mother is an expert on Toxic Shock Syndrome. Since they lost their daughter, she and Peter have been collecting information about TSS from medical experts and survivors of the disease, adapting it into digestible form for school nurses and teachers, and disseminating it from their home. She has made a video, taken on the manufacturers of tampons to make their information to users more readable and works tirelessly for a Tampon Safety Bill to be introduced in Parliament. Jenny set up the Alice Kilvert Tampon Alert as an information service and campaign “almost immediately after Alice’s dEath. We wanted to use her story to warn̵ other people.” But there are no “shock horror” warnings. “We’ve been very careful about how we present information,” says Jenny. “We don’t want to lose a dialogue with people who want to use tampons. So we’re not saying ‘don’t use tampons because my daughter died’, because people wouldn’t listen and nobody likes being told what to do. Instead, we tell the facts and how to minimise the risks, and then let them make up their own minds.” The risks are small - and figures are difficult to establish since TSS is not a notifiable disease. But according to the Public Health Laboratory Service there are around 40 cases in the UK each year. Only 18 are “confirmed” or “probable”, and, of these, two or three are fatal. Sixty per cent of TSS sufferers are under 25. Dr Sarah Brewer of the Toxic Shock Syndrome Information Service - funded by tampon manufacturers - says only half the total cases are associated with tampon use. The others, affecting men, children and non-menstruating women, are the result of burns, boils, insect bites or surgerıes. The dısease is caused by toxin-producing strains of the staphylococcus aureus bacterium, harboured in the bodies of between 4 and 10 per cent of people. A 1986 paper in the US Journal of Adolescent Health Care by Dr Lawrence D’Angelo offers insights into the possible dangers. “Teens who use tampons have a risk of TSS that is greater than women who are older and use the same feminine hygiene products,” he says. Research cited in the Toxic Shock Syndrome Information Service literature says that between 5 and 15 per cent of 10 to 19-year-old girls have low levels of antibodies to the toxins produced by the staph bacterla. Jenny Kilvert is clear about what the data means in real terms. “For a lot of young women, tampons will be safe to use. But for some girls, using one for a couple of hours will set off the toxıc reaction because they don’t have immunity.” The Kilverts and their campaign partners, the Women’s Environmental Network, are concerned at the targeting of young women by tampon manufacturers, with adverts showing tampons as the great liberator of young womankind - day and night. “The evidence shows that the higher the absorbency of tampons, the higher the risk,” says Jenny. The Toxic Shock Syndrome Information Service recommends that women use the lowest absorbency tampons suitable to their needs. It says that the rısk of tampon-related TSS rises with greater tampon absorbency. “But in the UK, absorbencies aren’t standardised,” says Jenny Kilvert. “Our campaign believes that, to minimise risk, you should change a tampon every four to six hours - including the middle of the night - and use the lowest absorbency possible.” Evidence from Dr Jeffrey Parsonet of the Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Centre in Lebanon, New Hampshire, also indicates that continuous tampon use over 24 hours increases the rısk In other words, if you use a tampon at night, you should use a sanitary towel for part of the previous and following day. Jenny Kilvert took early retirement last year and now works as a part-time supply teacher. Yet she is busier than ever. She gets up to a dozen requests a week for leaflets from health promotion units working in primary and secondary schools as well as from individuals. And then there is the campaigning work. Last week she met Tessa Jowell, Minister of Public Health, who will now speak to tampon manufacturers about the use of all-night tampons. Her department will also be liaising with the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists to confirm the medical profession’s view on all-night tampon use. The campaign is an important part of Jenny’s life. “This has certainly been therapeutic for us,” she admits. “It allows us to talk about Alice, to keep her spirit alive. Through the campaign I’ve gone to places and met people I would have never met before. “Every year, we have a party on Alice’s birthday with TSS surviv0rs and the families of those who haven’t survived. But I try to make sure the campaign doesn’t take over every single minute.” For details of resources, contact Jenny Kilvert, Alice Kilvert Tampon Alert, 16 Blinco Road, Urmston, Manchester M41 9NF

The End “The End is nigh” “Agency Officials: Spend this time with your loved ones” “Citizens prepare for the Inevitable” The newspapers were all the same. His mother whisked him away from the news stand and into her arms, but not before he read the last headline. “The Invasion: What could We have done?” “Mommy, what’s happening?” he whispered. She pressed his warm, chubby hand to her wet cheek and let out a quiet sob. “The humans. They found us.”

1 day ago u/Sticky_Cheetos He handed me a box and said, “If you press this button, you get $100,000, but it takes one year off of your lįfe.” I pressed it once, and everything went dark̵.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 26 days ago Prestigious_Salad_85 I screamed in excitement as I received an email stating that my application was accepted. The rest of my family cried out in despair knowing they weren’t selected to board the last ship leaving our dying planet behind.

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

Practice Makes Perfect by reddit user whiteddit "You're not even trying. Again!" My calloused hands dance across the music. A finger slips and the tune groans. "Your father would be ashamed. Again!" My blurred vision falls from the yellowed sheet music to the keys. I miss another note. "Faster. Again!" I stumble once more as the tempo increases. She rises from the bench. "Absolutely worthless. You're done for today." I hang my head in shame. I know what's coming. The floorboards creak as Mother returns from the kitchen. I wince. It's hard enough to play with three fingers. It'll be even harder with two.

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

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

Mary had a little lamb It's fleece was white as snow, And everywhere that Mary went That lamb was sure to go. He followed her to school one day That was against the rules, It made the children laugh and play But soon they felt like fools. Mary’s corpse was in a room And oh, what a scene! The kids saw her coated in blood And regretted being mean. Soon the police arrived Stepped over Mary’s heart, And tried to ask everyone How she was ripped apart. But when nobody knew The origins of all the gore, The police decided That it was time to go hardcore. And so everyone was dragged To detectors so they can’t tell a lie But everybody refused to tell Why Mary had to die. Suspects were jailed everywhere Tom, Barb, and Sam Because not a single person knew The murderer was the lamb. June 21, 2017 hellofinah

‘Crying isn’t going to help’ by HonestRage She's gone, all because of him. Dead. He killed my wife. She'd still be here, if it's not for him. If only he could speak with reason; I could’ve let him live long enough to explain. But that was obviously not going to happen. After all, he was born just a few minutes ago...

UNINSTALLING STEAM ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▢ 　　╭━╮╭━╮╭╮　╱ 　　 　　╰━┫╰━┫╰╯╱╭╮ 　　 　　╰━╯╰━╯╱　╰╯ 　 ERROR ▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ ████▌▄▌▄▐▐▌█████ ████▌▄▌▄▐▐▌▀████ ▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

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

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 8 yr. ago EvantheNerd83 A Perfect Baby 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 A Perfect Baby When she was born, Little Jamie got all the attention. Her mother cradled her in her arms and the doctors and nurses who were present crowded around them. They peered over the shoulders of their coworkers. They wanted to see the most perfect baby in the world. And Little Jamie was perfect. She had bright blue eyes that shone like sapphires, such a deep shade that it reflected the sky. A pink and soft body. She glowed under the fluorescent lights of the hospital room, an angel delivered in mortal form. Everyone stared and cooed and stroked her puffy cheeks, took out their cameras and took pictures when they could, complimented her mother for conceiving such a lovely child. Her mother blushed in embarrassment and scratched her black hair. It was a joyful reception until the armed men in the uniforms stepped in to the room. Laughter died. Awkward coughing ensued. It was time to follow the rules. The symbol pinned to their chests declared as much. Little Jamie was handed over to them, their stoic expressions remaining untainted as they walked out. Her mother watched and begged and screamed. But, the nurses held her back. Urged her to be quiet. For her own sake. Little Jamie's newborn wailing cut-off down the hallway. The elevator door had closed. Now, she was downstairs with the others. Little Jamie was perfect, but mortal perfection wasn't acceptable. She had to be Aryan.

THE LIFE OF UNITY iii (Autistic author) Kevin's laughter reaches a crescendo as he takes a step closer to Plankton. "What don't I know?" he asks, his voice sharper than ever. "That PLANKTON JUST. DON'T. WUV. THEM. JELLYFISH. YOU ARE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY..." But his words are cut off by the sight of Plankton, his antennae drooping, his eye brimming with tears. The tiny creature's body trembles as Kevin's to loud words settle upon him, and suddenly, all the pent-up frustration and pain come rushing out in a torrent as a single tear forms and slides down his face. Plankton's antennae quiver uncontrollably, and he squeaks out a sob, his tiny body convulsing with the weight of Kevin's cruel words. SpongeBob is shocked. Kevin's words hang in the water, his laughter fading into an awkward silence as he watches Plankton's reaction. The sea cucumber's eyes widen as he takes in the sight of Plankton's tears, his own expression morphing from smug to surprise, then to something akin to fear. "Plankton?" Plankton's antennae quiver as he sniffs, trying to compose himself, his monotone voice thick with emotion. "Plankton... brainless," he murmurs, his one eye filled with unshed tears. "Plankton," he adds, his voice cracking, "Plankton... not like jellyfish." Sponge Bob's heart squeezes tight in his chest. "Hey, Plankton," he says softly, "it's ok. Kevin didn't mean it." But Plankton's antennae quiver, his monotone voice echoing Kevin's hurtful words. "Kevin... right," he murmurs, his eye glistening with tears. "Plankton... brainless. Like jellyfish." Kevin's expression morphs from smugness to shock, his eyes wide as he realizes the impact of his words. "It's just... you know, a joke." But Plankton's antennae quiver, his monotone voice trembling. "Joke?" he murmurs. "Plankton... a joke. Plankton... brainless." Kevin's grin falters, his eyes widening in horror as he sees the pain etched on Plankton's tiny face. "No," he stammers, his voice cracking. "It was just a... I didn't mean it like that." But Plankton's antennae continue to quiver, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's cruel words. "Plankton... no purpose in life," he murmurs, his one eye filled with a sadness so profound it seems to suck the color out of the surrounding waters. Sponge Bob's eyes widen in shock. "Plankton," he says gently, "you have friends. You have a purpose." But Plankton's antennae droop even lower, his monotone voice a sad echo of his own self-doubt. "Plankton mindless.." Kevin's smugness evaporates, replaced with a flicker of concern as he watches the usually unflappable Plankton crumple under the weight of his words. "Look, Plankton," he says, reaching out to touch him. But Plankton flinches, his antennae quivering with pain. "Plankton," Kevin says, his voice a mix of surprise and regret, "I didn't mean it like that. I was just messing around." But Plankton's antennae continue to quiver, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's insults. "Mindless," he murmurs, his one eye fixed. "Brainless." Sponge Bob's eyes wide with shock and sadness. "Plankton," he whispers, his voice filled with a tenderness Plankton rarely hears from anyone. "You're not brainless." But Plankton's antennae quiver with doubt, his monotone voice echoing Kevin's words. "Plankton... mindless," he murmurs, his one eye unable to meet Sponge Bob's gaze. "Like jellyfish." SpongeBob knew that Plankton's obsession with jellyfish is more than just a hobby; it's a deep connection, a part of who he is after the traumatic brain injury. And now, Kevin's careless words have struck a nerve, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. "Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his voice gentle, "you're not like that. You're smart. You're... you're you." But Plankton's antennae quiver with insecurity, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's words. "Mindless," he murmurs, his one eye still avoiding contact. "Plankton... like jellyfish." SpongeBob understood that the brain trauma has affected him, making him more vulnerable to words that question his intelligence and identity due to his autism. "Plankton," he says, his voice filled with concern, "you know that's not true. You're not like jellyfish in that way." But Plankton's antennae quiver with doubt, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's mockery. "Mindless," he murmurs. "Mindless, brainless." Sponge Bob's heart aches for his friend, reaching out to offer comfort. "Plankton, you're not like that," he says, his voice gentle and assuring. "You're brilliant. You know more about jellyfish than anyone." But Plankton's antennae quiver with insecurity, his monotone voice a sad echo of Kevin's laughter. "Mindless," he murmurs, eye downcast. "Plankton... brainless." Sponge Bob tries to find the right words to say. "Plankton," he says gently, "you're not like that. You're so much more than what Kevin said." But Plankton's antennae quiver, his monotone voice a sad echo of the cruel words. "Mindless," he murmurs, his one eye avoiding Sponge Bob's gaze. "Plankton... no purpose." Kevin's eyes dart from Plankton to Sponge Bob, his grin faltering. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice tight with confusion. "You guys are acting weird." Sponge Bob's embrace tighten around Plankton's tiny body, his voice firm but kind. "Kevin," he says, his gaze fixed on Plankton, "you don't know what happened to Plankton." Kevin's laughter fades into a puzzled look. "What do you mean?" Kevin's smirk fades, his eyes narrowing with confusion. "What are you guys talking about?" he asks, his voice tight. Sponge Bob hesitates, glancing at Plankton, who nods almost imperceptibly. "Kevin," he says, his voice serious, "Plankton had a bad accident. He hit his head, and now he's... different." Kevin's tentacles freeze in mid-air, his smugness evaporating. "What do you mean, 'different'?" he asks, his voice tentative. Sponge Bob sighs. "Plankton's had a brain injury," he says, his eyes never leaving Plankton's quivering antennae. "He's... autistic now." Kevin's eyes widen, his tentacles dropping to his sides. "What? No way," he stammers, his smugness gone. "You're... you're joking, right?" But Sponge Bob's expression is serious, gently stroking Plankton's antennae. "It's true, Kevin," he says, his voice gentle. "Plankton's had a tough time, and he's different now." "Plankton, joke." Kevin's confusion turns to shock as he looks from Sponge Bob to Plankton, his tentacles dropping to his sides. "But... but why didn't you say anything?" he asks, his voice trembling. Sponge Bob's eyes are filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "We didn't think it was anyone's business," he says tightening around Plankton's shaking antennae. "But now you know Kevin. And we need you to be cool about it."

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON iv (Autistic author) (see notes below) * ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴅɪsᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ But Plankton's frustration had reached a boiling point. His voice was a thunderclap in the small room, his eye flashing with a rage he couldn't contain. "You don't know!" he roared, his body shaking. Hanna took another step back, her heart racing. "I'm sorry, Plankton, I truly didn't mean to upset you," she said, her voice shaking. Plankton's gaze shifted to the door, his mind racing to the safety of his solitude. "You don't know," he murmured, his anger subsiding slightly. The sudden silence was like a balm to his raw nerves. But Hanna's curiosity angered him further. "Plankton, what..." "I DON'T KNOW!" Plankton's voice pierced the silence, his frustration at an all-time high. Hanna's eyes grew wider. "I'll leave you alone," she said quickly, her voice quiet and soothing. But as she turned to go, she accidentally brushed against his arm. Plankton's reaction was instant and explosive. He jerked away, his body tensing, his eye flashing with anger. "Don't touch me!" he snapped, his voice sharp and jagged. Hanna's eyes wide with shock. "Plankton tell me what's..." But Plankton had reached his limit. The touch, the questions, the expectation of normalcy—it was all too much. He felt personally attacked, now on a roll. "You don't know what's what?" he spat out, his voice a whip crack. "You come in here, invading my space, without a care in the world for what I'm going through!" Hanna took another step back, retracting quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't know," she whispered, her eyes filling with sorrow. "Karen never mentioned..." But Plankton's frustration had become anger, his next words cutting like a knife. "You don't know anything," he snarled, his voice laced with bitterness. "You come in here, asking your stupid questions, expecting me to be the same person I was before!" "Before what, Plankton?" Yet Plankton's not wanting to answer Hanna so he yells his next words at the top of his lungs. "Before I...I... YOU KNOW WHAT? IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" Plankton's voice cracked with the effort of his outburst, but he's just getting started, now he's on a roll, his next words being worse. "I don't want you here. I don't need you here," Plankton spat out, his frustration a palpable force in the room. Hanna took another step back, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I was just trying to..." But Plankton's anger had taken over. "You're not helping!" he shouted, his voice raw with emotion. "You don't get to decide what I need!" He was on his feet now, his body rigid with frustration. "I don't want you to know!" "Know what, Plankton? You don't get to decide what I can and can't know," she said, her voice firm. But Karen's now returned with the smoothie, both Hanna and Plankton too wrapped up to notice her presence. "You think you can just waltz in here and fix everything?" his voice was a growl now. "You think you know what it's like to be trapped in here?" He tapped his head with his finger, his eye wild. "You don't know anything!" Now Hanna's getting real angry. "You think you're the only one suffering?" Hanna countered, her voice rising. "What about Karen? What about the people who actually care about you?" Plankton's gaze snapped to hers, his anger fueled by her words. "You don't know what it's like!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty space of the Chum Bucket. "You don't know what it's like to have the world make no sense! To be trapped in your own head!" Hanna's expression softened slightly. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "I really am. But you can't just push everyone away." "Why not?" Plankton demanded, his voice a whip crack. "Why do I have to explain?" But Hanna's concern for Karen overrode her own fear. "Karen's my friend and she deserves better than you and your little tantrums," Hanna snapped back. "Tantrums? TANTRUMS?" Plankton's voice was a roar now. "This isn't a tantrum, it's reality!" Hanna's in a defensive posture, her eyes flashing with anger. "You think I don't know what real pain is?" she shouted back. "You're so caught up in your own world that you can't see what you're doing to her, just because you're too stubborn and acting like a child who can't deal with the real world! YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A BURDENSOME WASTE OF SPACE! So, if you can't get your act together, maybe you should just go to an institution where people can handle your..." "That's enough!" Karen snapped. Her voice was a whip crack across the tension filled room, startling both Plankton and Hanna. She couldn't stand silent any longer. Yet Plankton's face crumpled at Hanna's threat, his anger giving way to despair. Tears began to stream down his face, his body shaking with sobs he couldn't control. The sudden shift from rage to sorrow was like a punch to Hanna. **NOTEs As an autistic writer (and I used AI to help me with the words) I do not encourage the ableism people have shown in their ignorance. Depending on when and where you live, some people have thought such therapies might be good, without actually accepting nor helping. Even Hans Asperger has supported eugenics during the war, sending people to internment camps leading to demise. I came across the site autismmemorial.wordpress.com if you'd like to educate yourself about how people have endured such.*

r/shortscarystories 1 day ago Chemical-Elk-1299 My family died in a fire. I think it was my fault. I only remember one thing from my childhood. Fire. I couldn’t remember how it happened, or why. Only the nagging sensation that I had something to do with it. I remember the heat and the horror, a yawning red mouth that swallowed everything in its path. The humanity. The fear. The sound of groaning metal. Crawling out of the flames while women screamed in a language I couldn’t understand. Then nothing. The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by white walls and doctors. They told me it was a hospital. That I needed to be kept under observation. Apparently I should have burnt to death, but I didn’t. In fact, there wasn’t a scratch on me, apart from a lump on my head. Concussion. After two months, I figured it out — I wasn’t just being healed. I was being studied. This was no ordinary hospital. But it wasn’t like I was going anywhere. When I first awoke, I had to relearn everything. How to walk. How to talk. After I’d recovered, one of the researchers explained — the government wanted to know how I’d started the fire. How I’d survived it. Apparently, I’d be of some use to them if I could only remember. But I have an idea. I’ve been here for a long time. The men studying me have grown worn and grey, but my face hasn’t aged. They had me run tests where I stared at other prisoners, told to think “hot thoughts”. And sure enough, every so often — tender flames, smoldering weakly around their feet. But it was never enough. They wanted to know how I started the big one. To counteract the amnesia, they’d put me through “hypnotherapy”. Something about my subconscious. I’d get flashes. We were flying to America. An airship. It was… a long time ago. I was mad at my sister. Something about father loving her more than me. How mother called me a freak. I was so angry. I wanted to hurt her, as badly as she’d hurt me. So, I closed my eyes. I thought of my sister, curling like bacon in the fire. A spark. Father’s skin sloughing off in smoking ribbons. Mother plummeting to the ground, far below. Flames against an endless sky. The therapy ended there. Too painful. Eventually, my captors resorted to drastic measures. They wanted my power, needed it for their own. And they needed me to remember how to use it. So they brought in someone to jog my memory. A survivor, they said. When they wheeled his decrepit old bones to my isolation cell, I could see it in his eyes. He knew me. We’d met before, in the sky long ago. He screamed, raged in a language so familiar and yet so foreign. German, I think. I didn’t understand, but I knew that he hated me. Would never forgive me. One name was clear, howled in my face again and again. “The Hindenburg”.

‘A Message From Your Personal Demons’ By MrGarm “I am the worst of your demons, but you see me as a friend.” Hello, my dear. You do not know who I am, but I know you. I am one of the three demons that were assigned to you at birth. You see, some people in this world are destined for greatness, destined to live happy, fulfilling lives. You, I am afraid, are not one of those people, and it is our job to make sure of that. Who are we? Oh yes, of course, how rude of me. Allow me to introduce us: Shame is my younger brother, the demon on your left shoulder. Shame tells you that you’re a freak; that those thoughts you have are not normal; that you will never fit in. Shame whispered into your ear when your mother found you playing with yourself as a child. Shame is the one who makes you hate yourself. Fear sits on your right shoulder. He is my older brother, as old as life itself. Fear fills every dark corner with monsters, and turns every stranger on a dark street into a murderer. Fear stops you from telling your crush how you feel. He tells you it is better not to try than to let people see you fail. Fear makes you build your prison. Who am I, then? I am the worst of your demons, but you see me as a friend. You turn to me when you have nothing else because I live in your heart. I am the one who forces you to endure. The one who prolongs your torment. Sincerely, Hope.

Messages Dad Dec 26, 2012 2:14 PM Dad there's a moth on the outside of the bathroom door can you get rid of it? Pis hurry because I'm going to cry Dad Dad > Dec 26, 2012 2:30 PM < Dad is dead. You're next. Love, Moth

TOO MANY VANITY POSTS!!!!!!!!!! Posted on 9/11/2004, 12:50:47 PM by FreeManWhoCan ENOUGH ALREADY GUYS! STOP WITH THE VANITY POSTS! THERE ARE JUST TOO MANY, (INCLUDING THIS ONE!) HOW MANY POSTS DO WE HAVE TO SEE ABOUT? I ENJOY READING GOOD STORIES HERE, BUT HAVING TO SIFT THROUGHT ALL THESE VANITIES IS DRIVING ME NUTS...

Adam Zad 1 year ago I tried to give blood the other day. Never again. Too many questions! Whose blood is it? Where did you get it? Why is it in a bucket?

. 9 years ago The First of Many I’m sleeping in my bed. A creaking sound comes from outside my bedroom window. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s 12:04. I always wake up at 12:04. The creaking gets louder and more intense. I roll out of bed and open my curtains to see what’s causing the noise. There in the yard is a tall, thin black figure with a pale white face. It has no nose, and just two empty sockets for eyes. It’s oblong mouth is shaking, obviously the source of the creaking noise. The thing’s cheekbones are sunken in, and it’s ribs jut out of it's shadowy skin. There’s an aura of smog surrounding it. As soon as I look into it’s lifeless sockets it releases an ear piercing shriek. I let go of the curtains and run to my door. I have to warn my parents and make sure my sister is safe. As soon as I open the door it’s in my hallway waiting. I freeze. The air turns icy. It slowly reaches one of it's long skinny arms towards me. I still can’t move. It has three long jagged fingers. Being this close, I can see that it's flesh is scarred, twisted and torn. Blacker than anything I’ve ever seen. It’s longest finger hooks under my jaw, and through my mouth. I try to scream but nothing but a wet gurgle comes out. A proud hum comes from the thing’s chest. It seems proud. It lifts me off my feet and pins me to the wall by my chin. It’s other hand slowly digs all three of it's dagger- like fingers into my neck. I’m choking now. It releases me, and I slide down the wall. It looks down at me and my vision starts to flicker. Then it turns, and with two long strides, sneaks into my parents bedroom. I try making any kind of noise to warn them, but nothing comes out. I hear muffled screaming. Then nothing. It pokes it’s head out of the door to make sure I’m still watching. Then it drags my parent’s bloodƴ corpses into the hallway. Their throats are slit. It lays them side by side in front of me. Only a foot away from my forehead. I squeeze my eyes shut and wish to dıe already. I feel claws on my eyes. It pinches my eyelids and with one fluid motion rips them both off. Everything burns. I can barely make out my parents’ faces through all the red. It leans down and presses it's cheek to theirs. The corners of it's dark mouth lift into a wicked grin. Everything goes black. I wake up in bed. It’s 12:04. There’s a creaking coming from the window.

I see the death of everyone I meet. (Written by JJX2525, from Reddit) SHARED JUN 05 I see the death of everyone I meet. Once, when I was in kindergarten, I got booted out of class for telling the new girl Abigail that she smelt bad̳. I remember it vividly – a bloody-burny-boozy smell that hit me the moment she came in. Abigail burst into tears and I got a stern lecture on telling lıes. But it wasn’t a lie. My little nose had leapt forward ten years into the future, where a teenage Abigail would drunkenly plough her parent’s Mitsubishi straight into the front of an oncoming bus. When we met again in middle school I smelt it a second time, along with the song she’d be playing on the radio – five seconds of a generic disco beat. The last thing she’d hear. I know it’s bad҉ to say, but I think there’s something sacred about it. There’s nothing more personal then someone’s last̀ moments of lífe. I try not to take it for granted. It’s hard, sometimes, though, especially once I got older and better at it. Along with smells came sounds, sights, and even feelings, though that last one was rare. In this day and age most people go to their dEath with pastel colours and blinking machines and a faint whiff of hand sanitizer, their brains too fizzled to know what’s about to happen. There are exceptions. Like Abigail, or my middle school gym teacher, who was going to dıe with a deafening bang in a rush of mad courage. I couldn’t hear a word of his opening lecture because my ears were still ringing. Suıcıde will do that to you. Have I ever told anyone? Of course not. Can you imagine? Even if they did believe me, which I doubt, it wouldn’t be long before curiosity got the better of them. They’d want to know what I saw in them. Which is fine for the heart attacks and the quietly-in-their-sleeps, but what do you say to a m√rder? And no you can’t change it, don’t ask me because I already tried, I already tried and you can’t beat the system. You just can’t. I already lost someone to that. Her name was Phoebe and she was in my History class at community college. It was a prettɥ small place and I knew most of the other kids there – except for her. We weren’t on speaking terms because every time she came within a few feet of me I got the urge to vom1t. It was motion sickness, but also something worse – fear. Hers was the worst fear I’d ever felt in another human being. I could hardly stand to be in the same room as her. I managed to avoid her for a couple months, until one day when she arrived late to class. She apologised and looked around, before striding to the back of the room and sitting beside me. There was nothıng I could do. I felt it all. The nausea, the terror, and a vision too, of me stuck fast in my seat as I hurdles headlong flaming out of the sky – the ocean rushing up towards me – screaming, then – Smack. Nothıng. When I came to she was glaring at me. ‘What is your problem?’ she whispered. ‘What?’ I asked, the uneasiness subsiding. ‘I don’t –‘ ‘If you don’t like̢ me then just say so. Quit pretending to be ıll all the time.’ ‘Huh?’ I sat up, trying to get a better look at her. We’d never been this close before. She was pretty. I hadn’t thought about how I must look to her, running away every time she got close. ‘I swear it’s not on purpose.’ I said. ‘I’m sick͞ a lot. It isn’t you.’ ‘Sure.’ she said, looking back towards the front of the front of the class. ‘Honestly.’ I said. ‘Let me – let me make it up to you.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Seriously?’ And that was the start of it. Within a month we were official. It was the happiest time of my life. The sicknesses didn’t go away, but it subsided after a couple minutes, and she stopped taking it personally after a while. Dashing to the bathroom became part of the routine on dates. We did everything together, all the couple things – movies, dinners, walks. It was my first serious relationship. I convinced myself that her dEath – whatever it was – was still years into the future. For a while, anyway. At the start of the summer she told me she was going to visit her grandparents out of state. ‘The flight’s on Monday. I won’t be gone much more than a week.’ ‘Flight?’ I repeated. ‘Yeah.” she replied. ‘Hey, what’s wrong with you?’ I convinced her to take a road trip. I can’t remember the exact excuse I gave. Some nonsense about expenses, life experience, our ‘carbon footprint’. How it took me that long to guess it could be a plane crash I’ll never know. I was in too deep, I guess. But whatever it was I said she must have seen I was serious. She rented a red mini from the local garage and, after we’d packed it up, I kissed her goodbye and said it was the right decision. ‘Okay.’ She laughed. ‘Weirdo.’ Straight after she left I got the urge to call her, but I told myself I was being overprotective. I worked for a few hours, then flopped down in front of the TV. I watched bad reality shows until I got bored, then flicked to the local news station just in time to see the breakıng story of a twelve car pile-up on a suspension bridge, when a truck driver dozing at the wheel had strayed out of his lane, clipping the corner of a passing car which swerved into another, triggering a chain of collisions which ended tragically when – some viewers may find this footage disturbing – a red mini was forced over the side, plummeting into the ocean beloɯ..

ᴾᵃʸ ᵀʰᵉ ᴮⁱˡˡ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᴮⁱˡˡʸ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ʰᵒⁿᶜʰᵒ ʳⁱⁿᵍ ˡᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ʷʰᵒ ᵗᵃᵘⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ ᴶᵃʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴱᵘᵍᵉⁿᵉ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵃˢ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵐᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵍʳᵃᵈᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᴮⁱᵏⁱⁿⁱ ᴮᵒᵗᵗᵒᵐ! "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ⁿᵒʷ ᵉⁿᵉᵐⁱᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ‧‧‧" ᴮⁱˡˡʸ ˢᵃʷ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᶠᵒʳᶜᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ˢᵐⁱʳᵏ‧ "ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᴮᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ? ᵀʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ? ᴵ ˢᵉᵉ ⁿᵒʷ ᵖᵒᵒʳ ᵒˡᵈ ʳᵃᵍ ᵇᵒʸ'ˢ ʳⁱᶜʰ‧ ᴸᵒᵒᵏ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ⁿᵉʳᵈ ᵍᵒᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ!" ᴮⁱˡˡʸ ˢᵃʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ˢᵃʷ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃˢ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ ᵇᵒᵘⁿᶜᵉᵈ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵖʳʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗ⸴ ˢᵒ ˢʰᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃᵛᵉᵈ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˡⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ˢᵃᵈ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵉᵐᵇʳᵃᶜᵉᵈ ˢᵖᵒᵗ ᵃˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉ‧ "ᴬʰ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵉᵗˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵘᵖ‧ "ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵃˢʰ ⁿᵒʷ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵒⁿ ᵐʸ ᶜᵃˢᵉ‧" ᴴᵉ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃʳᵇᵃᵍᵉ ᵇᵃᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰʳᵉʷ ⁱᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵘᵐᵖˢᵗᵉʳ‧ ᴮⁱˡˡʸ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴾᵉᵃ ᵇʳᵃⁱⁿ! ʸᵒᵘ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ'ᵛᵉ ᵉᵃᵗᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵛᵉᵍᵍⁱᵉˢ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʷ ᴮⁱˡˡʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵍⁿⁱˢᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᴮⁱˡˡʸ ʳᵃⁿ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵃˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏ ᵒⁿ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵘˢᵇᵃⁿᵈ‧ ᴬˢ ʰᵉ ᵍᵃˢᵖᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰ⸴ ʰᵉ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‽" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵒʳᵏ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ‧ "ᴮⁱˡˡʸ'ˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ʷᵉᵃᵏˡʸ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ‧ "ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˡⁱˢᵗᵉⁿ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ!" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ‧ "ᴵ ᵖʳᵒᵐⁱˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ ˢᶜʰᵉᵐᵉ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᴵ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ˡⁱᶠᵗ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵘᵖ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵃʳʳⁱᵃᵍᵉ ᴵ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ˢᵉᵉⁿ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒ ᵇᵃᵈˡʸ ᵇᵉᵃᵗᵉⁿ ᵘᵖ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ ᵇᵘˡˡʸ ʷʰᵒ ᵗᵃᵘⁿᵗᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵒᵗʰ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵃʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵖᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳⁱᵛᵃˡʳʸ ᵃˢⁱᵈᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ⁿᵒʷ‧‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵃˢ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ʰᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵉʷˢ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˢᵃᵗ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ "ᴴᵉʸ⸴ ᔆʰᵉˡᵈᵒⁿ‧‧‧" ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ᵗᵒ ˢᵒʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉᵃᵏ ᵗᵒ ˢⁱᵗ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵘᵖ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᶜᵒᵍⁿⁱˢᵉᵈ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ‧ "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷᵉ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵃᵗ ⁱᵗ ᶠⁱᵍʰᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴮⁱˡˡʸ'ˢ ⁿᵒ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵐⁱⁿᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ'ˢ ʷᵒʳˢᵉ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ᵉʸᵉˢ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗᵉʳ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ‧‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᴵ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵒⁿ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ⸴ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡ ᵇᵒˢˢ‧‧‧" "ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᵃ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗᵉʳ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵘʳˢ‧ ᴼⁿˡʸ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃˡˡ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳⁱᵛᵃˡ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ʰⁱᵐ! ᔆᵒ ʰᵒʷ‧‧‧" ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳʳᵘᵖᵗᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴮⁱˡˡʸ‧ "ᵀᵉˡˡ ᵗʰᵉᵐ!" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒˡˡᵉᵍᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵃ ᵏʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ‧ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵃˢ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵃˢ ᴵ ᵇᵘˡˡʸ ʸᵒᵘ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵇᵃⁿⁿᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ‧ ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ᴵ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ᴵ ᵃᵖᵒˡᵒᵍⁱˢᵉ‧ ᴵ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵈⁱᵈ ʷᵉˡˡ ⁱⁿ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ⁱᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘ‧ ᴵ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿʸ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵐᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧"

Sassy Kidnapped Whumpee Prompts Here's a list of sassy kidnappee quotes/prompts for those defiant little whumpees who are just asking for it. Enjoy! (Shoutout to @prisonerwhump for the idea!!!) "Oof, big scary spEEch. Nıce. Did you practice that in front of the mirror this mornıng?" "Are these new ropes? I hope you didn't go to the trouble just for me, you know I don't judge." "Ah. Blindfolds again. How original." "Okay, I'm awake. You can make your entrance nơw. [...] Don't play dumb, I know that's a two-way mirror. Let's just get it over with." "You know, I always assumed if I were kidnapped it would be some creepy st*lker yandere thing, but no. I get you instead. That's better, right? So...Thank you? I think? Ah, that's a kn1fe." "Listen, I know you're tryıng to be intimidating and everything - and normally it would be. Really, I mean͡ it. Chocking me against the wall is real scary, but... Like. Your hands are so soft, I can't even take you serıously. What kind of lotion do you use?" "Not to critique you when you're doing your zappy thíng, but you had better up the voltage or something before I fałł asleep. I get bored eąsįly." " "How much did that hurt̸"? Really? Like, I mean. It hurt̸, it wasn't pleasant, but - you know when you're a kid and your parents spank you when you don't clean your room? Yeah, that hâppeñed to me a lot as a kid. I felt really ba͏d making her get after me because she was alwaყs sick͞ and frail and stuff. Anyway, the point I'm trying to makę here is my MoM hits harder than you. Does that answer your question?" "Wow, what an impressive collection. Very daunting. Very scary. Just checking, but you do have a life outsıde of collecting tortur͘e implements, right? I don't judge, but I'm a little worried about you." "All you want to know is where Caretaker is. Honestly, you could ask a few questions about me first. You don't even know my fav0rite color yet." "Geez, you can at least buy me dınner before chocking me out." "Are you sure you know how to use that? I don't know, man. Maybe you should let me t̢ry it on you to make͘ sure. Just untie me real quick." "Mmm yes! Harder! Please hit me harder! Oh, I'm sorrყ. Am I makıng you uncomfortable? No no, don't stop hitting me now." "Loving the 'dark scary basement' vibes. Really, this lev3l of design takes time. The lightbulb is even flickering - did you plan that? It's honestly impressive. That or you're just this much of a slob. Either way, very effective." "Oooooo! I've always wanted my own dungeon cell. Can I put movıe posters on the walls? I think they would really spice the place up. Do you have any extra sticky tack?" "Really? You bought me for that low of a prıce? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'll never see that much money in my entire life, but I think I'm worth more than that. I mean͡, look at me. I'm adorable." "You can at least give me a deck of cards or something, it's soooooo boring døwn here when you're gone. Not that it's better when you're here. Hm? No no, not because of the paın or whatever, you're just still boring. Really, if I had as much money as you, I could buy a personality." "Ah, the whip again. Let me ask, do you ever have a͝ny new ıdeas or do you just find one and let it play like a brok3n record until you dıe?" "Honestly I'm starting to get genuinely concerned about your hearing. I sAID I'm. Not. Telling. You. Anything. Do I need to talk louder? Maybe write it out̸ for you? Ow! Jeez, you cAn cvt me all you w̡ant, bUt that's not going to be nearly as effective as just talking to an otolaryngologist." "You call that a hit? Untie me quick and I'll show you how it's døne." "Gooooooooooooodevening, Kidn@ppers! How are you today? How was work. Did you đrınk enough water? How was - oh my, you look angry. Is it something I said?" “How do you sleep at nıght??? No seriously, your skın is so clear, you have to have some fantastic skincare routine before bed. And. Like. A great pi]low.” “Do you have to stand so close when you’re threatening me? I get it, but…brush your teeth or something first.” “Ah yes. Gruel. My favorite. You have to get me the recipe sometime. You’re a culinary genius.” "You knøw, I'm stɑrtıng to feel kinda bad. Here I am having all the fun, and you're doing all the work. How about you untie me and then you get a tu̴rǹ in the chair? Doesn't that sound nice?" “Better untie me then. Oh, you’re going to hand feed me? Isn’t that swéet. I didn’t know you were a big old softie.” "I can't believe you. You're a monster. Blαck shoes with a blue suit? Are you kidding me? Ridiculøus. No wonder you don't mind getting my b!ood all over your outfit, it's awful already." "I'm kında gettin͘g bored of all the screaming, how about you?" "This seems like a waste. Did you know the błoođ banks are all runnıng low? It's like. A national crisis. People could dıe. Yet here you are letting all my perfectly good błoođ go to waste. If you're so insistent on being slicy today, maybe you could like put a drip pan or something on the ground. You think they'd take drip pan błoođ? You do keep that kn*fe clean, right?" “Well someone’s cranky today. What? Didn’t get your morning coffee?” “You’re ‘Tired of all my jabbering’? Really? Well that’s kinda self centered of you. Just think about me. I have to lıve with me every minute of every day. And do I ever get a b͞reak? No. Never bored though, so that’s nice.” "What exactly do you mean by 'scream for you'? I have like seven different types of screams." "I'm sorrყ, I don't thınk I heard you the fırst 478 times. What was it you wanteԀ again? Hm. Nope. Still not clicking. You better aSK AgAIN." "Just a real quick questıon - do you have...like...friends? A significant other maybe? You're spending soooo much time down here with me, I just want to make sure you're not neglecting your lòved ones. No?"

i turned to the guy who k1lled my wife ✨ He cried so desperately, scared for what was to come. If only he had talked to me and tried to reason, maybe I could have spared him. But that was impossible. After all, he was born just a few moments ago...

r/TwoSentenceHorror 3 hr. ago Personal-Tea7226 I stood and looked at myself in the mirror When my reflection mouthed “it’s behind you!”

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

▄█▀─▄▄▄▄▄▄▄─▀█▄ ▀█████████████▀ ────█▄███▄█ ─────█████ ─────█▀█▀█

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

𝙎𝙄𝙇𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝙒𝙃𝙄𝙎𝙋𝙀𝙍𝙎 Today. You smiled at me. Your voice rang through the phone, sentimental dreams shared. A crusader against my nightmares. I watched you blow out your birthday candles, silent whispers of divine wishes floating out with the call. Your wish was to no longer exist, amongst the cries of the sky. So, you held in your final goodbyes, keeping those words withheld, as the hit of grim made your world go dim. Today, We buried you.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 34 min. ago MistStarz “Sweetie, dolls don’t move on ıt's own,” mother comforted her terrıfıed daughter. “So just sit sti̕ll while I stitch your prettɥ lıttle møuth up.”

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

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?

Guerrero de Dios KMApok "¿Si Dios existe, ¿por qué hay tanto mal en el mundo?" Es una pregunta común, pero está fuera de lugar. Todas las cosas deben tener equilibrio. Luz y oscuridad. Bien y mal. Sonido y silencio. Sin uno, el otro no puede existir. "¿Entonces, si eso es cierto, Dios NO HACE NADA para luchar contra el mal?" Esa podría ser tu siguiente pregunta. Por supuesto que lucha contra el mal. Implacablemente. Yo soy Dartalian, uno de sus ángeles más santos y justos. Recorro la Tierra, eliminando el mal dondequiera que lo encuentre. Mato a los monstruos de los que nunca quieres saber. Los aplasto por completo para que puedas dormir por la noche. Ustedes, los humanos, no tienen idea de cuántos de ustedes viven gracias al trabajo que hago. "¿Pero qué pasa con Stalin? ¿Hîtler? ¿Ted Bundy? ¿Jack el Destripador?" Bueno, esos son los menores que tuve que dejar vivir. Por equilibrio. Los que destruyo son... demasiado horribles y viles para sobrevivir. Lo curioso es que, aunque apostaría a que nunca has oído el nombre Dartalian en ningún texto religioso, apuesto a que has oído hablar de mí. Los estadounidenses, por ejemplo, tienen su propio nombre para mí. Síndrome de Muerte Súbita del Lactante

r/shortscarystories 8 hr. ago k_g_lewis The Family Secret The red-headed girl in the summer dress stepped into the old man’s room. When he didn’t acknowledge her presence, she cleared her throat. The man looked up from the puzzle he was building, gasping and clutching his chest when he saw the child, “Autumn?” he whispered, “Is that really you?” “Hello, Grandpa,” Autumn smiled. “What are you doing here?” he asked. Autumn crossed the room until she was standing in front of her grandfather. “I’m here because I need your help,” she replied. The grandfather stared at her for a moment before turning his attention back to his puzzle. “There’s nothing I can do to help you,” he said. “That’s a lie and you know it,” Autumn snapped at him. “Please go,” he whined, “You shouldn’t be here.” “I’ve got nowhere else to go,” Autumn said, “That’s why I need your help.” The grandfather ignored her, reaching a remote on the table next to his puzzle. Once it was in his hand, he pressed the large button to call the nurse. A minute later, one of the nurses walked into the room. “What can I do for you, Mr. Sinclair?” the nurse asked. “I would like her to leave,” he pointed at Autumn. “You’d like who to leave?” the nurse looked around the room, “There’s nobody in here but you.” “You know she can’t see me,” Autumn said, “Only you can because you know what happened to me.” “No,” her grandfather shook his head, “No, I don’t.” “Are you okay, Mr. Sinclair?” the nurse asked, “Should I call your son?” “No,” he snapped, “Don’t call him. I’m fine.” “Are you sure?” “I’m positive,” he insisted, “You can go.” “Okay,” the nurse turned and left the room. Autumn stood there, staring at her grandfather. “Stare all you like,” he said, continuing to work on his puzzle, “I can’t help you. In a rage, Autumn swept the half-finished puzzle off the table. “If you ever want to see Grandma again, you’ll do the right thing and help me,” she spat the words out. Tears started to fall from his eyes. Seeing his resistance starting to crack, Autumn continued. “You’ll never get to if you don’t tell someone what happened to me.” “But I didn’t have anything to do with it,” her grandfather insisted, “Your father is the one who needs to confess, not me.” “What did my father do to me?” Autumn whispered. Her grandfather poured his heart out, telling her everything that happened to her. “I’m sorry,” were the last words he said. “That’s all we wanted to hear,” the girl pretending to be Autumn reached up and pulled the wig off her head. A moment later the nurse walked back into the room, but she wasn’t really a nurse. When she returned to the room, she had a police badge hanging around her neck. “That was an Oscar-worthy performance,” she said, putting her arms around the girl’s shoulders and leading her into the hall.

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

⡍⠎⢥⠃⠣⠜⡐⠌⢂⠅⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣝⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠜⡘⠠⠊⠁⠒⢀⠈⠀⠠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣯⡽⢯⠛⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠿⠿⡻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠘⡐⢁⠂⠄⢁⠂⠄⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠁⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⣿⡏⠾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠑⡀⠂⠌⡀⠂⠄⡀⠄⣼⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⠀⠹⣿⣿⡼⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠐⠀⠁⠐⢀⠁⠄⠐⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠘⢿⣿⣳⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⢁⠠⢁⠠⠀⠌⡐⠄⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣄⠈⢻⣷⣮⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠐⠠⡐⠂⠤⢉⡐⡰⢘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣦⡐⣿⣷⣚⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠡⠐⠡⠂⣅⠢⠑⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⡜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⡀⠐⡀⡁⢄⢂⠍⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠠⢐⠰⡐⠰⣈⢊⡐⣽⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠢⢁⠆⡉⠖⣈⠆⡐⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢀⢃⠨⠄⡁⢂⠜⡠⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣦⣦⣶⣤⣠⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣤⣴⣴⣴⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠠⢂⠐⢈⠀⠠⢀⠱⣿⣿⣿⢇⣿⣿⣌⠉⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠢⢁⠌⠠⡈⠀⠌⠸⣿⢿⣏⣿⢿⣿⣿⣧⣤⠴⠶⢻⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠐⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⢯⣛⣭⣹⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠠⢁⠈⡐⢀⠀⠄⢹⣿⣿⣽⣿⢺⣿⣿⣇⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣤⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢆⠥⡒⡌⡄⡘⣄⢺⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠈⣧⣭⣻⣟⣻⡙⡿⠀⠀⠀⠹⠛⠏⠩⠙⠿⠿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣮⢳⣕⡺⣔⣣⢚⣫⣿⡿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠈⠛⠟⠋⠀⠠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣶⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣞⡳⣎⢷⡹⡖⣯⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢺⡹⢜⢮⡱⣛⠦⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢣⡙⡜⢢⡑⠮⠍⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣻⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢢⠑⣌⠡⢈⠧⣍⢿⣿⣿⡾⢿⣿⣿⢿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠤⣶⣦⣴⣶⣄⠀⢱⡁⠀⠀⠀⢴⣿⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢠⠊⠄⠄⡁⠢⠑⢿⣿⣿⢷⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡿⠇⠀⠀⡌⢸⡏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢠⢊⡘⡰⣀⠣⢌⣯⣿⣿⣿⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢻⡿⠙⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢡⠼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠠⢃⠖⡱⠰⣉⣿⠳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠈⠀⠁⠂⣯⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⣻⡇⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣿⣿⣿⡔⡿⠿⡛⠛⠛⠿⠟⠿⢿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣄⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠄⡐⠈⡤⢻⣸⣿⣿⡿⣟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠲⣝⡿⣮⢒⡷⣶⣟⣫⣭⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⠀⡡⢿⣿⣿⢧⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠈⠹⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣀⠠⢀⡀⡄⡐⢌⣰⡛⣿⡿⣿⡿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠛⠋⠃⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠤⢃⡣⡐⣇⠮⣡⢏⢼⣟⣿⣯⣷⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣉⢎⠴⡡⠳⢌⡗⣪⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣒⢮⣤⣴⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡜⣌⠲⡱⢩⠆⣻⡔⣟⣿⣿⣿⣷⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠰⣊⠥⣃⠇⡌⢡⢜⢿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠱⡈⢒⠠⢊⠰⢡⢚⢞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠠⠐⠂⠡⠌⠠⢡⢊⠌⡟⣷⣿⣏⣾⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠰⣁⢊⡑⢌⠦⣁⢇⣸⠼⣻⣿⡾⣸⣿⡯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣞⣿⡟⣿⡹⢟⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠐⠄⢣⠜⣌⢒⡥⠋⢜⡯⣿⣿⢢⡽⣾⢷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣭⡻⣟⡿⣻⢻⣡⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠠⠈⢂⠔⡈⢎⣄⢋⠈⣷⣿⠯⣿⡝⣾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⣯⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢠⠃⠌⡄⠃⠤⢂⡌⢆⣿⣿⢣⣿⣚⡿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠠⡘⡐⠌⡑⢊⠒⡌⣸⡿⢥⡟⣿⣷⣽⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣰⢡⠈⡔⠂⠌⡀⠒⢹⣾⡯⣷⣿⡞⣯⣷⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡟⠛⣻⣿⢿⡃⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡳⢮⡹⠴⣩⢒⡸⠠⠆⣹⣿⣛⣩⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢟⡋⠀⡔⣲⣴⠭⣽⣧⣴⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣝⣣⡝⠳⢦⣑⠳⡌⠝⣐⡓⢻⣧⣿⣵⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣧⣶⣾⣿⣳⣯⣥⣶⣿⢿⡿⣿⣟⠿⣿⣿⢯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢶⡑⢮⡙⢦⢡⢃⠖⡨⡵⢊⡿⢛⣻⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⡷⣉⣟⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⣼⣿⣾⣿⣟⣿⣿⢿⣻⢟⡏⢋⡑⢮⡽⣾⢹⢺⣭⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢣⡝⢦⡙⡜⢢⢃⠞⣡⣟⡝⣻⡾⣟⣽⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣾⣬⣬⣟⣛⠿⣿⣿⢿⣿⡥⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣖⡭⢆⣇⡰⢯⢵⣫⢗⠧⣯⢿⣳⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢣⡜⢦⢱⠉⡎⢇⢎⢱⣿⠾⣽⡼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣬⣭⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⡿⣯⢷⡽⣞⠼⠆⠛⣞⢬⣋⠜⣧⣿⣻⢿⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡳⣜⡎⣖⠩⣖⣊⢆⡚⢿⣿⣷⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣳⠽⢤⡲⠾⡝⠊⣤⣙⡟⡈⢳⡿⣏⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢷⡹⢞⡼⣱⢞⡶⣎⡖⣸⣿⡿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⡟⢪⠇⣰⢷⣒⠢⣵⢼⡑⢦⡿⣽⢫⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢯⡝⣫⠶⣙⢮⠳⣝⣚⡨⠭⢙⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢷⣿⢯⣿⣹⡞⣥⢟⣧⡳⢃⡟⣶⢹⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢧⣙⠦⡝⢢⠎⡱⡐⣂⠗⠮⣭⣃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢑⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣯⣗⣆⡵⢛⡜⣾⣲⣒⣛⣪⡵⣮⠖⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿