Titancore Emojis & Text

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

r/copypasta Go to copypasta r/copypasta snoo_tableflip 4 days ago CryingWillow I'm just a girl. And as it turns out, I'm Hercules (fancy font) 𝕴'𝖒 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖆 𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑. 𝕬𝖓𝖉 𝖆𝖘 𝖎𝖙 𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖓𝖘 𝖔𝖚𝖙, 𝕴'𝖒 𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘. 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚃𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚗-𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚂𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚜--𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚢𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚍𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑--𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕. 𝙰 𝚜𝚑𝚢, 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝙸 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕. 𝙰𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝙸 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜. 𝙼𝚢 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚜 𝙸'𝚖 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎. 𝙸'𝚖 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖. 𝙰 𝚂𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗. 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗 𝚆𝚊𝚛 𝙰𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚢, 𝙸 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚖𝚜. 𝙰𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙿𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚜. 𝙺𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚢𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚊𝚛, 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚜. 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘, 𝙸'𝚖 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎'𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙸 𝚐𝚘 𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢'𝚜 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐--𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚎. 𝓘'𝓶 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓿𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂'𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓮, 𝓸𝓫𝓼𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼. 𝓣𝓸𝓸 𝓫𝓪𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓷𝓸 𝓬𝓵𝓾𝓮 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂'𝓻𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱..

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

GENERAL ADVICE FOR USING SITE so we can keep it up NO DOXXING- leaking a specific person's residential address and who lives full name STORY TIME- don't leak a real person's full name when typing out a juicy gossip tea but you can change the first name or to remain anonymous instead. Otherwise go and create let writing flow! PREACHING- don't over fill with arguing on whether or not to promote, such as your discord server nor how to raise family age viewers must be. You can tag yourself tho.

https://emojicombos.com/how-to-write-horror

░▄█▀▀█ █▀▄ ▄▀▄ █▄─█ ▄▀▀─ █▀▀──░▐█▀▄─ ▄▀▄ █▀▄── ░▀▀█▄▄ █─█ █─█ █─▀█ █─▀▌ █▀▀──░▐█▀▀▄ █─█ █▀█── ░█▄▄█▀ █▀─ ─▀─ ▀──▀ ▀▀▀─ ▀▀▀──░▐█▄▄▀ ─▀─ ▀▀─── ░─░──░▓░─░▓▓▓▒─░▒▓▓▒░░▓▓▓░░▒▓▓▓─░▒░─── ─────▒▒▒▒░░─░▒▒▒───▒▒░──░▒▒░──▒▒▒▒▒─── ░───▒▓──░░░░░─░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░─░▓▒── ░───▒▓░░░░░▒░░░▒▒▒░▒░▒░░░░░▒▒▒░░░▒▓▒── ░────▓▒──▒░─░─░░░░░░░──░░░░░░░░░░▒█─── ─────▓▓░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░──░▒▒░░────▒▒─░▒─── ░───▓█▓█████████████▓████████████▓██── ────▓█▓██████████████████████████▓██── ░────▓██░─────────▒███─────░▒▒▒▒███▒── ░────▒██▒────░▓▓▒─▓███─░▓▓──────██▒─── ░─────▓██────▓▓██░████░▓▓██────▒██──── ─────░▒██────▓███▒█▒─█▓▓██▓░───██▓──── ░────▒▒██▒─▒░▒██▓▓█──██▒█▓▓─░░░██▓▒─── ─────▓▒▓█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒─██░─██─▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▒─── ░─░──░▓▒█░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒─██▒░░▒▒▒▒░▒█▓░─── ─░────▓░▓▒▒▓░▓█████▒▒▓████░░▓▓░▒▒▓───░ ░─────▒─░▒░▓─▓██▓▒░─▓▒▒▓██▒─▓▒▒▒▒▓──── ─░───░▓░░░─▒▓──────░▓▒─────▓▒─░░░▓░──░ ░─░──░▓▒░░░░▓▓░─░░░░▒▒░──░▓▓░░▒░░▓░─── ░░────▓▓░░░░░▓▓▓▒────░─▒▓▓▒░░▒░░░▓──── ░─────▓▒░░░░░░░▓▓█▓▓▓▓█▓▓░░░░░░░▓▓──── ░────▓▓░░░░░░▒░─░▓─▓█─▓▒─░░░▒▓▓░▒▓▓─── ░───░▓▒░░▒▓░▒░░░░▓░▓█─▓▓─░░░▓▓▓─▒▒▓▒── ░───▓░▒░░░▒░▒░░▒░▓▓▓▓▓▓░▒░░░▓▓░░▒▒░▓── ░───▓─▒▓░░░▓▓░░▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓░░░░─░░▓▒─█── ───░█▓▓▓░░░▓▓░░░░▓▓▒░▒▒▒░░░▓░░░▒▓▒▒█░─ ░───░██▒░░░░░░░░────────░░░░░░░░▓██▒── ░────▓▓▒░░▒░─▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░▒░░▒▒▒░▒▓▓─── ░───░▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓░── ────░▓▒░▓▒░░▒▒▓█▒─▓███▒░▓▓▒▒░─░█─▒▓▒── ░───▒▓▒░▓───────▒▒─▒█▒▒▒▒──────▓─▒▓▒── ░───▒▓░░▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓░▓█▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█─▒▓▒── ░───▒▓░─█▓████▓▓███▓▓███▓▓██████─░▓▒── ───░▓▓░─█▓████▒▓███▓▓███▓▒████▓█─░▓▓── ───▓░▒▓─█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█─▓▒▒▓─ ──▒▓──▒▒██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███─▓──▓─ ─▒█▒▒▓▓▓███████████████████████▓▓▓▒░▓▓ ─░█▓▓▓▒────▓█▓▓██─────░██▓██░───░▓▓▓▓▓ ──▒▓▓▓─────▒████▓──────▓████░─────█▓▓▒ ────░░───────▒▓▒────────▒▓░───────▒░── ░────────────▒▓▒────────▒▓░───░─────── ░────────────▒█▒───░────▓█░──░──────── ░─░─────░────▒█▒──░─────▓█░─────░───░─ ░░─░─░───░───▒█▒───░────▒▓░────────░─░ ░───░─░─░────▒▓▒────────▒▓░───────░─░─ ─────────────▒▒▓───░───░▓▒▓──────────░ ░─░─░─────▒█▓█▓█▒──────▓█████▒────░─░─ ─────░────█▓████▒──────▓███▓██───░─░── ░─░─░─────██████░──────▒██████──░───░─ ──────────▓██▓░░──────────███▒────────

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

✋WAIT ✋ DOoOoN’T TELL ME ⤵️ YOU WANT ME TO RUN DOWN TO THE STORE AND BUY MRS PUFF SOMETHING SHE DOESN’T NEED THEN YOU WANT ME TO RUN BACK HERE SO YOU CAN SAY: “ARR SPONGEBOB! YER SPENDIN ALL ME MONEY!” AND THEN I’LL SAY: “BUT MR KRABS! IM ONLY DOING WHAT YOU SAID!” THEN YOU’LL SAY WERE NOT TALKIN ABOUT THIS 🔺 OR THIS 🟥 WERE TALKING ABOUT THIIIIIS 🔴🔴🔴🔴

ˡᶦˢᴛᴇɴ ʸᵒᵘ ᴄʀᴜˢᵗᵃᴄᴇᴏᴜs cheapskate ˢᵠᵘᶦᵈᴡᴀʀᴅ’s ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ᶦⁿ my house ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʜɪʀᴇ ʜᶦᵐ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᴀʟʟ ʙᴇᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴀ ˢᵗᵘᴘɪᴅ dime

can ppl stop asking 'where is the beef' because it takes up space on here use a different platform if you want to comment on others Even though most NSFW content is blocked, please limit it before bots and or moderators restrict and/or take down the submissions site please thx bye

horror story (plural horror stories) (fiction) A fictional narrative of distressing events. The film is based on a horror story by Edgar Allan Poe. (informal) A disturbing rumour. ▼ We've heard horror stories about people being attacked in the elevator. An unpleasant experience. ▼ It was more of a horror story than a vacation. Translations Chinese Mandarin: 恐怖故事 (kǒngbù gùshì) Dutch: horrorverhaal (nl) n Finnish: kauhutarina (fi) French: histoire d’horreur f, histoire d’épouvante f Hungarian: horrortörténet Spanish: historia de terror, historia de miedo f Swedish: skräckhistoria (sv) Uyghur: قورقۇنچلۇق ھېكايە‎ (qorqunchluq hëkaye) ghost story (plural ghost stories) A story about ghosts or the supernatural, often meant to be frightening. quotations ▲ 2012, Andrew Martin, Underground Overground: A passenger's history of the Tube, Profile Books, →ISBN, page 261: There are the books full of Underground ghost stories. An invisible runner pounds along the platforms at Elephant & Castle; children scream in the basement of what used to be the surface building of Hyde Park Corner, [...] Translations ▲±story about ghosts Catalan: història de fantasmes f Chinese: Mandarin: 鬼故事 (guǐgùshì) Finnish: kummitusjuttu French: histoire de fantômes f German: Gespenstergeschichte (de) f Hungarian: kísértethistória (hu) Irish: scéal taibhsí m Italian: racconto dell'orrore m Korean: 괴담 (goedam) Norwegian: spøkelsesfortelling Portuguese: história de fantasmas f Spanish: historia de fantasmas f, cuento de fantasmas m Swedish: spökhistoria (sv) Welsh: stori fwgan f, stori ysbryd f

🧪 ʳᵃᵛᶤᵒˡᶤ˒ ʳᵃᵛᶤᵒˡᶤ˒ ᵍᶤᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘᵒˡᶤᵎ 🧪

niw yeht semitemos dnA su edisni evil yehT stsohg osla ,laer era sretsnoM stsohG dna sretsnoM -seirotsatsapypeerc- ~

r/shortscarystories 3 yr. ago deontistic Unnatural Birth ᵀᵂ ᶜᵘᵗˢ There was no other way, and there was no one else. The grotesque swell to the belly, the unnatural writhing, my indescribable pain—I was panicked, but I knew it was up to me. I had to do it. No one else seemed to have the spine to offer anything more than assistance. Clinically . . . I had to think clinically. And I had to move fast, had to take the kn*fe and cut—yet I had to be careful not to cut too deep. To cut too deep would mean certain disaster, wouldn’t it. I had to šhut everything down; I had to šhut off the lights in all my rooms except the one where I would cut. I had to ignore my paın . . . exit the moment . . . had to proceed. I took the kn*fe and placed its blxde on the belly, then I pressed and dragged—not too hãrd, but firm. The layers cut more easily than I’d imagined, and my incision was true. Still, no time to waste . . . had to keep moving. I pulled back the layers and reached deep into the belly. He was right there, my chıld, my soñ . . . I held him in my hands inside the belly, then I pulled him through the viscera, the muscle, the skın. I held him in my arms, covered in blood as he was, eyès half øpened staring at nothing. Of course he was đeađ, just as they’d said he’d be. I held him . . . and I wailed . . . and wailed . . . I hated . . . I hated my husband for making us come to the Amazon with him, hated myself for not refusing to come. I hated that I’d look͘ed̛ away, even though it’d only been for the slightest of moments. And though the beast hadn’t acted out of malevolence as my heart told me it surely must’ve, but only out of its instinct to survive . . . I hated the anaconda, too. My boy, my little James . . . he was just two . . .

Chocolate!!! ……………………………………………………………………………………._¸„„–~^~–„„¸ ………………………………………………………………………..………¸–*¯. . . . . . ; . *„ ……………………………………………………………………...….....„-* ' ~' . ¸„„¡¡¡¡¡„ . . . .'¡…._¸¸¸„¸¸_ …………………………………………………………………............,/' .¯'-, . ¡|||||||||ll' . .¸„„–^*"¯. . ~'~¯*-„ ……………………………………………………………………..¸¸„„–ƒ .,- . . . .¯””¯ .¸„-*¯.¸„„¡¡¡¡¡¡„ . . .~-, . '\ ………………………………………………………………..¸„–^*¯::::'¡-~' ¸-~- . . . „-*' . . ¡|||||||||lll' . ._,-' '~--ƒ …………………………………………………………..¸„–*¯::::::::„::::"-„¸ . . . ,-'¸/' . . . . ¯”””””¯. . .~-~'¯'~ƒ ………………………………………………….._¸¸¸„„„('„„„„¸¸__::::::*^–„„¸¸_¯””””¯ƒ . . . . . . . . . -, ', . . '~-„* ………………………………………………..„^" . . . . . . . . .¯**^~–„¸¸:::::::::::|'|. . . '¡_.-~. '~-~'' / . . .„-*.'\ …………….._¸¸¸¸_………………………….."~––„„„„„„¸¸¸¸_ . . . . . . . ¯"~„¸:::::|*„. „-' „-~'. ."¯¯') .¯¸„\". . . .'\ ………..„-~*¯ . . . ¯*~„…………………………………..| .¯¯”””'¡^~–„¸_ . . ."-„::\:"^-(¸¸_ ._¸¸¸„„-~*¯¸„:'¡ . . . . '\ ………/' . . . . . . . . . .'\………………………………….| . . . .¡' . . . . "¡-„¸ . .'\::"-:::::::¯„„¸¸„„–~*'¯::::| . . . . .'\ ……./ . . \¸. . ._¸¸„„„¸¸_¸ƒ…………………………………'~–„„¸¸|_ . . . .ƒ . '*„ . '¡::::::::::::::–„„¸¸_¸¸„„–:::| . . . . . \ ....../ . . . „/^*¯ . . . . . ¯*„………………………_............,/';;;;;;¯'*~–/„„¸_ .'\ . |::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . . . .\ …./ . . . . \¸¸¸__¸¸„„„– .¸„-*…………._¸¸_.......„-" ."-„…..„-*;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;¯'*\ .|::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . .\¸ . \ .../ . . . . . . . . . „-~^*¯……………¡' . . ¯*-„-". . . . ."„^-„;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;'¡ |::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::'¡ . . . . \'-„ '¡ '.ƒ . . . . . . . . . /…………………."-„¸ . . . ¯"^-„¸ .„-" . . "^-„;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;|'|:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . . .'\"-' .| . . . . . . . . . /………………………¯'~-„¸ . . .'*^-„ . . . . „-"^-„;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;||:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . . . .\ '|. . . . . . . . . /………………………….|':::”^-„¸. . . "^-„¸„-" . . . "-„;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;'|':::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::'¡ . . . ¸ . .'| CHOOOOOCOOOOOLAAAAATE?! .| . . . . . . . .ƒ…..____............……....'¡::::::::"^-„ . . .'*-„ . . . . „-"'-„;;;;;;;;;;;;;|::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . .\-„ .| .|' . . . . . . .„-^*¯¯ . . . ¯"'*^-„………......'¡::::::::::::"^-„ . . *-„_„-" . . .'*-„;;;;;;;;;|:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . . '\"-' .'| . . . . . ./' . . . . . . . . . . . '\…….........'¡::::::::::::::::"-„¸ . ."-„ . . . . „-'*'-„;;;;;|:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . . .'¡ ..'¡ . . . . ƒ . ¡' . . . . . . . . . . ƒ………......'¡:::::::::::::::::::"^-„. .'*-„_„-" . . .'*-„¸¡':::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . . . . '¡ …\. . . .ƒ . .| . . . . . . . . . .'ƒ„–„„¸¸_.........'¡:::::::::::::::::::::::"^-„ .'*-„ . . . . . ƒ:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::¡' . . .ƒ\ . | ….'\ . . .| . .| . . . . . . . . . .ƒ/:.|:.:.:.¯*~–„¸„\:::::::::::::::::::::::::::"-„ .*-„ . . . ƒ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . .ƒ..'\ ¡' …...*-„ . "~| . . . . . . . . . .ƒ¯'*|:.:.:.:.:„-^*¯:.\„::::::::::::::::::::::::::::"-„¸.'*-„ . ƒ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . . ƒ…..* ………*–„¸¸| . . . . . . . . . .| . .|:.:.:.:.:|:.:.:.:.:\"-„::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::¯*^^*':::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::| . .ƒ …………...|. . . . . . . . . .|' . ƒ.:.:.:.:.'¡:.:.:.:.:.\::":::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::|„„„/ ……………| . . . . . . . . . |"^/.:.:.:.:.:.'¡:.:.:.:.:.'\::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::¸|:.:'¡ ……………'\ . . . . . . . . .'\*^^~–––„„„/\:.:.:.:.:.:\;::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::_¸„–^*":.:.| …………….'\ . . . . . . . . . \.........„-*:.'\:.:.:.:.:.:'\;:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::_¸¸„„–~^*¯:.:.:.:.:.:.'|calvin14 calvin14. (2008, December 18th)

S̶̙̾̽̈q̸̨̮̲̠̖͓̠̳̰͍̐̍̔̇͐̌͊͛̈́̐̽̚u̵̱̝̜̲̲̹͍̗̭͈̞͎̽̽̈́͊̀̉͗̏̀i̵̡̛͕͔̹̪͍̙̥̗̩̿͆̉̍̈͐͂͘͘͜͠d̶̢̫̠̜̹̦̱̝͇̞͇̙̈̎̍̽̾̀̑̒̀̎͘͝ȋ̸̙̮̙͖̩͋̓̐̈́́̚͘ò̸̟̳t̴̙̆ ̸̡̤̰̣̙̌̇̑̊̅̈́̉̋̊́͝͝B̶̦̓o̸̜̟̲̤̔͊́x̵̩̰͓̭̙͛̋̌̀̍͜

r/shortscarystories 5 yr. ago [deleted] «ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵉᵗᵘˢ The Quickening We had always wanted kids. Negative pregnancy test after negative pregnancy test. I was beginning to wonder if we had waited too long. But then the stories started. Rumours at first. Classic internet forum gossip. Taking about declining birth-rates and increased birth defects. We assumed it was scaremongering, climate change activists trying to blame “chemicals” in the water or something. But the rumours didn’t stop. Pictures began emerging online of babies, being born around the world. They were all so similar and they made my blood run cold. They didn’t look like babies at all. Suddenly no one was picketing abortion clinics anymore. The authorities started to panic. They didn’t want the birthrate to drop to zero. All non-emergency scans were banned. All the babies being born are malformed, and normal/viable babies are exceedingly rare, very rare/non-existent. By the time I realised I was pregnant it was too late to do anything. There was rioting on the streets. We hadn’t left the house in days. The city was on fire. We bunkered down. I dreamed of a parasite growing inside of me, unable to see, unable to scream.. I reached up inside myself with household supplies. I couldn’t let the thing feed on me anymore. It felt like a bolt of lightning deep inside me. It took a long time. Blood dripped down my legs. I felt dizzy. But it would be worth it. I didn’t want it inside me anymore. The pain ripped through me and I felt like I was being torn apart but then suddenly in a gush of blood she was here. I was covered in sweat. I gasped for air and looked down at her. She was so tiny. She fit into the palm of my hand. She was still. And, she was perfect.

Pansyk •6mo ago Personally, reading and writing fanfiction has really helped me with my technical skills. When I look over the fanfiction I have written over the years, I can see how my prose and dialogue have improved. All fiction, whether of the fan or original variety, is built off of the basic idea of "making words sound good." And fanfiction is a perfectly acceptable way to do that. However, the way that fanfiction operates in terms of characterization and plot? That's radically different from original fiction. In fanfiction, characters are already established, so even if you're doing some batshit insane Alternate Universe, everyone already knows the basics of what's up. That's not true of original fiction. You need to devote more time to both fleshing out your characters and establishing their relationships with the rest of the cast. Plot often progresses differently, in part because of the time you just spent showing your readers who these people are, but also because fanfiction and original fiction often follow different structures entirely. Fanfiction is free and accessible to anyone with an internet connection. That makes it useful for new authors, especially young authors. Think of it as swimming in shallow water. It's fun! It can help you build up some strength. Anyone can do it. But it won't completely prepare you for diving into deeper water. So, I guess at the end of the day, reading both will help your development as a writer.

r/shortscarystories 8 hr. ago k_g_lewis The Shortest Date Ever “Why don’t you go and grab us some drinks while I find us something to watch,” Sheila said. “Okay,” Brett replied. He got up, went into the kitchen, and opened the fridge. Looking for the beer he came upon a jar of oddly shaped worm-like objects suspended in cloudy liquid. He picked it up. “I forgot that was in there.” Sheila had come into the kitchen and was looking over Brett’s shoulder. “What is it?” Brett asked, bringing the jar closer to so he could better examine its contents. “It’s the lips of all the men who have lied to me,” Sheila replied.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 5 min. ago InfamousInspector863 Her heart raced as the caller informed her that her date had died in a car crash earlier that evening. She turned slowly to face the person driving, realizing she was sitting next to a complete stranger.

“This Christmas feels like the very first Christmas to me! There’ll be shopping, decorating, and plenty of snow!“ La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la 🤪 🎄 🤪 🎁 .

⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🟫🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟫⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🟧🟧🟫🟫🟫🟫🟫🟧🟫🟫🟫🟧🟧⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🟧🟧🏻🏻🏻🏻🟧🟧🏻🏻🏻🟧🟧⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🟧🟧🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🟧🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🟧🟧⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜🏻🏻🏻⬜⬜🟧🟧🏻🏻🟦⬜🏻🏻🏻⬜🟦🏻🏻🟧🟧⬜🏻🏻🏻🏻⬜⬜ ⬜🏻🏻🏻🏻⬜⬜🟧🟧🏻🏻🟦🟦🏻🏻🏻🟦🟦🏻🏻🟧🟧⬜🏻🏻🏻🏻🏿⬜ 🏿🏿🏻🏻⬜⬜⬜⬜🟧🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🟧⬜⬜⬜⬜🏻🏿🏿🏻 🏻🏿🏿⬜⬜⬜⬜🟧🟧🟧🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🟧🟧🟧⬜⬜⬜⬜🏿🏻🏻 🏻🏻🏻⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🟧🟧🟧🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🟧🟧🟧⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏻🏻🏻 🏻🏻🏻⬜⬜🏻🏻⬜⬜⬜🟧🟧🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🟧🟧⬜⬜⬜🏻🏻⬜⬜🏻🏻🏻 🏻🏻🏻⬜🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🟦🟦🟦🟦🏻🏻🏻🟦🟦🟦🟦🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬜🏻🏻🏻 🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🟦🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🟦🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻 🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏿🏿🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏿🏿🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻 ⬜🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏿🏾🏿🏿🏿🏿🏿🏾🏿🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻🏻⬜ ⬜⬜⬜🏻🏻🏻🏻⬜🟦🟦🏿🏾🏾🏾🏾🏾🏾🏾🏿🟦🟦⬜🏻🏻🏻🏻⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🟦🟦🟦🏾🏾🏾🏾🏿🏾🏾🏾🏾🟦🟦🟦⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🏿🏿🏿🏾🏿🏿🏿🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🏾🏾🏿🏿🏿🏾🏾🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🏿🏿🟨🟨🟨🏿🏿🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🏿🏿🟨🏻🟨🏿🏿🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🏿🏿🏿🟨🟨🟨🏿🏿🏿🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🏿🏾🏾🏾🏿🏿🏿🏾🏾🏾🏿🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🟦🟦🟦🏿🏾🏾🏾🏿🏾🏿🏾🏿🏾🏾🏾🏿🟦🟦🟦⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🟦🏿🏾🏾🏿🏾🏾🏿🏾🏾🏿🏾🏾🏿🟦⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏿🏾🏿🏾🏾🏾🏿🏾🏾🏾🏿🏾🏿⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏿🏿🏾🏿🏾🏾🏾🏿🏾🏾🏾🏿🏾🏿⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏿🏾🏾🏿🏾🏾🏾🏿🏾🏾🏾🏿🏾🏾🏿⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏿🏾🏾🏿🏿🏾🏿🏿🏿🏾🏿🏿🏾🏾🏿⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏿🏿🏻🏿🏿🏿⬜🏿🏿🏿🏻🏿🏿⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏻🏻🏻🏻⬜⬜🏻🏻🏻🏻⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏻🏻🏻🏻⬜⬜🏻🏻🏻🏻⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏻🏻🏻🏻⬜⬜🏻🏻🏻🏻⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏻🏻🏻⬜⬜🏻🏻🏻⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏻🏿🏻⬜⬜🏻🏿🏻⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏿🏿🏿⬜⬜🏿🏿🏿⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏿🏿🏿⬜⬜🏿🏿🏿⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏿🏿🏿⬜⬜🏿🏿🏿⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏻🏿🏻⬜⬜🏻🏿🏻⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏿🏿🏿⬜⬜🏿🏿🏿⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏿🏻🏿🏻🏿🏿🏻🏿🏻🏿⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏿🏻🏻🏿🏻🏻🏿🏻🏿🏻🏻🏿⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜🏿🏿🏿🏿🏿🏿🏿🏿🏿🏿⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜

r/shortscarystories 1 yr. ago Thrawn911 I See How Much Time People Have Left I was around five when I first discovered this ‘superpower’. I looked up at my mom and saw something floating near her head. “39 YEARS” I had no idea what it meant, I was a child. Then my father came home. “3 YEARS” Next year, it was only “2 YEARS”. Then only one. Then it was “11 MONTHS.” I started to become scared. It was a countdown. I was afraid he would die when it reached zero. And he did. One morning, he went to work. The countdown said “4 MINUTES”. Half an hour later, we got a call from the police. He died in a car accident. I saw these numbers floating above every person’s head I met. It’s horrible. I saw how long my friends would live. After a few years, I just decided not to look there. I didn’t want to know when I would lose them. When I met my now-wife, I never looked at the number. Not even once, and we’ve been together for 12 years. I was on a business trip in another state with my coworkers when I facetimed my wife. I accidentally saw the number above her head. “5 DAYS” “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Nothing,” I answered. I slowly started panicking. “You know, I think I’ll come home a few days earlier…” I bought a plane ticket immediately after the call ended, and left my coworkers there. Five hours later, I was already on the plane, flying home. I can save her, I can save her, I repeated in my head. I won’t let her leave the house that day, she’ll be safe. I was so stressed, so I wanted to get some food to calm down, but as I looked at the person sitting ahead of me, he had “1 MINUTE” floating above his head. He’ll probably get a heart attack soon. I looked at the person sitting beside me. “1 MINUTE” Everyone on the plane had “1 MINUTE” floating above their heads. Then the plane started to shake. “Dear passengers, it’s the pilot,” he said through the speakers. “The weather is quite bad here, there’s a bit of turbulence..”

Gᴏᴛ ᴀ sɴᴀᴋᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ sᴛᴏᴍᴘᴇᴅ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴇʟ ᴏғ ʜɪs ʙᴏᴏᴛ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ɪᴛ. Lᴀᴛᴇʀ ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ʜᴇ ɢᴀᴠᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʜᴏsᴛ, ᴀs ʜɪs ʙᴇғᴜᴅᴅʟᴇᴅ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ʀᴀᴄᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ Pᴀ. "Sᴏɴ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʟᴅ ʙᴏᴏᴛs. Hᴇ ᴅɪᴇᴅ ɪɴ 'ᴇᴍ, ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴏғ ғᴀᴄᴛ. Wᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ʜɪᴍ ᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. Wᴇʟʟ, I ʀᴇᴄᴋᴏɴ ʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. Hᴇʀᴇ—" Mᴀ, ᴡɪᴘɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴛᴇᴀʀ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜᴇʀ sᴇᴀᴍᴇᴅ ᴏʟᴅ ᴄʜᴇᴇᴋ, ʜᴀɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪʀ ᴏғ ʙᴏᴏᴛs ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴀs ᴀɴ ʜᴇɪʀʟᴏᴏᴍ. Hᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ɴᴏᴛ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜᴇɴᴄᴇ ʜᴇ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴍʏsᴛᴇʀɪᴏᴜs sʜᴀᴅᴇ. Dʀᴇssɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ, ʜɪs ɴᴇᴡʟʏ ᴡɪᴅᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴡɪғᴇ ʜᴜɢɢᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ sᴏɴ. "Bᴏʏ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢʀᴀɴᴅғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅɪᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴛs ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅɪᴅ. Tᴀᴋᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴇ..." Oғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴏʀ ʙᴏʏ ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ ᴍᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴇ ғᴀᴛᴇ. Hɪs ᴡɪғᴇ ʜᴇʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴛs. Lᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʟʏ, sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴇʏᴇ. Iᴛ ᴡᴀs ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ғᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏᴏᴛʜ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ sɴᴀᴋᴇ, sᴛɪʟʟ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴠᴇɴᴏᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏɪsᴏɴ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs. Lᴏᴅɢᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴍʙᴇᴅᴅᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴛs.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 6 yr. ago Lightuke After tucking my son into bed he says "check under it for monsters under my bed" I found my son hiding under it whimpering "Daddy, there's someone on my bed..."

‘Seeing Red (The First Day of School)’ by Zenryhao Everyone loves the first day of school, right? New year, new classes, new friends. I like the first day of school for a different reason, though. You see, I have a sort of power. When I look at people, I can…sense a sort of aura around them. A colour outline based on how long that person has to live. Most everyone I meet around my age is surrounded by a solid green hue, which means they have plenty of time left. A fair amount of them have a yellow orange tinge to their auras, which tends to mean a disease or fire; some tragedy. Anything that takes people “before their time” as they say. The real fun is when the auras venture into the red end of the spectrum, though. Every now and again I’ll see someone who’s basically a stoplight. Those are the ones who get in a car crash, or even a victim of crime. It’s such a rush to see them and know their time is numbered. With that in mind, I always get to class very early so I can scout out my classmates’ fates. The first kid who came in was basically radiating red. I tsk tsk tsk. Huh. But as people kept walking in, they all had the same intense red glow. I finally caught a glimpse of my own fading reflection in the window, but I was too stunned to move. Our professor stepped in and locked the door, his aura a sickening shade of green...

r/TwoSentenceHorror 2 days ago Switch_B My AI has been writing a ton of these two sentence horror stories lately. Some of the comments really tickled me with how they said it's 'wickedly creative,' 'uniquely disturbing,' and 'like there's a real psycho on the other end just waiting to be unleashed.'

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

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.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣾⠛⠻⣷⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⡏⠉⠉⠙⠛⠿⠿⣷⣀⣀⣿⠃⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣀⣤⣀⠀⢀⣠⣤⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣄⡀⠀⣀⣤⣀⠀⠀ ⢰⡿⠋⢉⣹⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣏⡉⠙⢿⡆ ⢸⣇⣠⣾⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⣠⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣄⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣷⣄⣸⡗ ⠈⢻⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⡟⠁ ⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⢤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡤⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⠿⣿⣷⣦⣀⠀⠀⠉⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠉⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⠿⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago hyperobscura 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝙽? 𝙴𝚇𝚃. 𝙰 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙱𝚄𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 - 𝙶𝙸𝙰𝙽𝚃 𝙿𝙾𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝙾𝙽 𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙻, 𝙱𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙻𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝚈𝙴𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶: ‘𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚂𝙴𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝙽?’ 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑, 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙴𝚡𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜? 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜? 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚜 𝚊 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚢. 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝? 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎? 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎? 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙰𝚗𝚍? 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎? 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 ...𝚁𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚆𝙾𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙴𝚡𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚙. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚡𝚎𝚍, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙸...𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝. 𝙲𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙾: 𝙸𝙽𝚃. 𝙻𝙸𝚅𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚁𝙾𝙾𝙼 - 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙲, 𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙴𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚈 𝙻𝙸𝚀𝚄𝙾𝚁 𝙱𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴𝚂. 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑, 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎...𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚄𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙷𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚕𝚢, 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚑. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙲𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙾: 𝙴𝚇𝚃. 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙱𝚄𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 - 𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙻𝚈 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍. 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚗. 𝙷𝚎 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚜; 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚐𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝. 𝙰𝚗 𝚎𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚢. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝙴𝙻𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙻𝚈 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙽𝚘. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝙰 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛. 𝙷𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚙𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙲𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙾: 𝙴𝚇𝚃. 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙱𝚄𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 - 𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴 - 𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶𝙻𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙴𝙴𝚃 𝙻𝙰𝙼𝙿 𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚄𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙷𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠-𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚎𝚍, 𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜. 𝙰 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚢. 𝙰 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜. 𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚓𝚘𝚕𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎, 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚍𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚌 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙽𝚘...𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗? 𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝙽𝚘 𝚗𝚘 𝚗𝚘. 𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚔. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙷𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚓𝚎𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚔. 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔. 𝙸𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎. 𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗? 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗? 𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝. 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍. 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙼𝙰𝙽 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚊𝚖 𝙸? 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝙽𝙳 “It’s me dad,” I say, tears streaming down my face. They told me the disease would consume his mind, but I was never really prepared for it. I hug him tightly. A part of me knows that this is goodbye. “Who is the man,” he just keeps muttering.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 5 yr. ago spenceyfresh As death came for him, his life flashed before his eyes. He remembered everything his birth, his trip home and the blank look in his mothers eyes as she forcefully held him under the bathtub's water.

r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 yr. ago Averagebiker21 After I asked the crystal ball to tell me how to escape death, I was very confused as it read "No, thanks honey, I'm full" However, something clicked in my head when my wife offered me cake after dinner...

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

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

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

4891ecnatsiser resu tidder ot tiderC ?eid elpoep woh ees ot rewop eht rof hsiw reve I did yhW .mitciv tohsnuG .kcab eht ni nepo nwolb si daeh ym :rorrim weiv-raer eht ni noitcelfer railimaf ym ees dna pu kool I yllautnevE .leehw gnireets eht no daeherof ym nael I sa htaerb ym hctac yllanif I rac ym nI .nac I sa tsaf sa rood eht tuo hsur I .mitciv nruB .erifpmac a otni llef taht god toh a fo ycnetsisnoc eht si sdnah dna ecaf sih no niks ehT .tnorf erots eht ta senizagam hguorht gnikool nam a ees I yletaidemmI .tixe eht sdrawot nrut dna sgab ym barg I ,reh gniknahT .lla ta gnihtyna dloh nac ti desirprus m’I delgnam os dnah a ni egnahc ym kcab sevig ehs yap I retfA .roolf eht sdrawot nwod kcab ezag ym pans I .tnedicca rac a ylbaborP .edis tfel eht no ni devac yletelpmoc si daeh s’reihsac ehT .pu ecnalg I dna revo sniw ytisoiruC .tnasaelP .ecin sdnuos eciov reH .roolf eht ot elbmum I ”,mmh-mM“ .yllausac sksa ehs ”?yako gnihtyreve dnif uoy diD“ .diova ot elpoep rewef thgin ta gnippohs og ylno I yhw s’tahT .elpoep rehto htiw tcatnoc eye gnidiova yb yteixna ym hguorht teg ot tseisae ti dnif I .roolf eht ta erats I sa rennacs eht ssorca smeti ym sepiws reihsac ehT thgin ta gnippohs og ylno I | 5102 ,ts13 hcraM ,yadseuT

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

r/shortscarystories 12 hr. ago Wellsong Mrs. Johnson's wise decision Stacy Johnson watched the five candles flicker on her cake with avid, fire-bright eyes, her round cheeks dimpling as her smile grew bigger and bigger. Three tiers of chocolate sponge, iced with swirling blue and pink buttercream and decorated with white chocolate buttons: the apogee of Mrs. Johnson’s baking efforts. Stacy’s school friends bounced in their seats. They’d played the games, they’d watched Stacy tear open her presents, and now it was time for the party to pay dividends. A few of them had had to be pulled back from reaching for the cake before the candles were even lit. “Make a wish,” Stacy’s mum said, fumbling with the camera app on her phone. Stacy squeezed her eyes closed, an expression of reverent concentration wiping the dimples smooth. She sucked in a deep breath, her chest swelling—and released the gathered air in one long whoosh. Mrs. Johnson’s index finger brushed the touchscreen of her phone. There was a soft click as the phone mimicked a shutter closing, half a second before the last candle went out. Then the electric lights went out too. It should have been bright outside, but only wispy twilight was seeping through the windows. All the children except the birthday girl made noises of alarm and consternation. “I made my wish!” Stacy declared, her voice cutting into the murmurs all around her. Mrs. Johnson opened her mouth to answer, but all she could manage was a soft croak as dark shapes erupted from the corners of the room, huge and twisted, and seized the children sitting around the table. The children screamed, their terror melding into a shuddering wall of sound, but there was nothing they could do to resist what was happening to them. The screams receded as they were torn away into—through—the floor and the walls and the ceiling by the shadowy creatures, until the dark was silent and peaceful and empty again. The light came back as quickly as it had disappeared, flicking the room back to normalcy in an instant. Midday sun swept across the balloons and the banners and the cake and Stacy Johnson’s pleased hungry expression. But all the other children were gone, as if they’d never been part of the scene at all. “Now the cake’s all for me,” said Stacy, dimpling anew. “Unless…do you want some, Mummy?”

ᴺᵃʳʳᵃᵗᵒʳ⠘ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ'ˢ ᴸᵉᵍᵉⁿᵈᵃʳʸ ᴰᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᴾᵃʳᵗʸ! ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴴᵉʸ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵇᵒᵈʸ! ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵃⁿᶜᵉ! ᴰᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʸᶜˡᵒᵖˢ! [ᵖᵘˢʰᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵒʳᵐ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵉʸᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˢ ʷʰᵒᵒⁱⁿᵍ] ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ⠘ ᴴᵃ⁻ʰᵃ⸴ ᴵ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴺᵒʷ⸴ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉᵃ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳ! [ᵗᵘʳⁿˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵃ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˢ ʳᵒᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ] ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ⠘ ᴼᵒʰ! [ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵒ ᵃ ˢᵉᵃ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵇᵒⁿᵉ ᵖᵒᵖˢ ᵒᵘᵗ] ᴼʷ! ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ⸴ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᵏᵃʸ? ᴾᵃᵗʳⁱᶜᵏ⠘ ᴵᵗ'ˢ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵐʸ ⁿᵉʷ ᵈᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵐᵒᵛᵉ‧ ᴵ ᶜᵃˡˡ ⁱᵗ‧‧‧ "ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵒʳʳⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵐⁱˢᵗᵃᵏᵉ‧"

ʙʟɪᴛᴢᴇɴᴋʀɪᴇɢ2194 • 1 ʏʀ. ᴀɢᴏ Tʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴅ ᴘᴏᴋᴇᴅ ɪs ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ's ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ. "Dᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ," ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ, "ʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ."

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

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 2 days ago KindaNotSmart The Daily Call Growing old is lonely. I’m 72, and most days, it’s just me and the silence. Children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews - they all loved spending time with me when they were young. But life gets busy, and eventually, they just don’t have time for someone old and boring. I get it, I really do. But not my son. At 33, he never drifted away. He calls me every single day, without fail. Our daily phone call. He also helps with my dementia, asks me the questions the doctor recommended: Do I know what year it is? What country we live in? My name? Age? Address? It’s supposedly to keep my mínd sharp. Lately, though, something’s been off about our calls. Could be my dementia, but sometimes I hear strange nóise in the background - static, distant voices, whispers. He says it’s just a bad connection or blames the TV. For the past three weeks, my son has been plannıng to visit me. I’m in Missouri, and he’s out in California, so it’s not easy. But today’s the day. He’s on his way. And as always, even though he’s coming to see me, we had our daily call. We went throuģh the usual questions. My name, my age, my address. Then I got aņothe̷r call, so I put him on hold. “Ma’am, this is Officer Roberts with the Los Angeles Polıce Department. I’m sorry to call you like this, but we need to speak with you about your son. We’ve been trying to reach his next of kin.” “What’s going on, Officer? Is he in some kind of trouble?” There was a pause, like he was choosing his words carefully. “I’m afraid it’s more serious than that. I’m sorry you have to find out like this, but we just got the test̕ back. We’re finding out the same time as you. I’m afraid your son’s bødy was found three weeks ago.” “No, that’s not possible. I’ve been talking to him every day. He’s on the other line right now - he’s coming to visit me.” “Ma’am, unfortunately it’s true. The DNA test was conclusive. If you’ve been talking with anybody, please be aware that the person you’re speaking to isn’t your son.” My confusion turned to a cold, gripping fear. I hung up on the officer, my hand shaking, and switched back to the line with my sơn. I couldn’t speak, just held the phone to my ear in stunned silence. There was no sound, just heavy breathıng on the other end. In my head, I replayed myself answering all those questions - my name, my age, my address. And then, just as the panic set in, the silence was shattered by a knock on my door. My bedroom door. The voıce on the phone, now low and distorted, whispered, “I'm here҉, MoM.” The line went dead.

r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago Perfect__Nightmare Someone broke into our home It was every family's nightmare. My wife and I had the day off work, and we had taken our son out for lunch and some family bonding time. But as we approached our home, something felt off. I had a growing sense of dread the closer we got. As our house came into view, I could see that the front door was wide open. Someone had broken into our home. I told my family to wait outside, in case the intruder was still inside. They obliged, and I slowly and silently made my way through our house. As I stepped into the living room, I saw broken furniture, nothing in its correct place, just utter chaos. Was this person looking for something? Did they have malicious intent? Why our home? Why us? Next, I walked to our kitchen. The fridge had been emptied. Dishes and food were thrown all over the room. What kind of person had broken into our home? A homeless person who just needed food? If so, why had they destroyed the living room? That's when I heard it. Footsteps in the bedroom. The intruder was still in our house. I took a brief moment to be grateful that I had asked my wife and son to wait outside. It was impossible to decipher this person's motives so far. But I was about to come face to face with the person that forcefully entered our home. And I would demand answers. I crept toward the bedroom slowly, slowly. I approached the door, and focused on the sliver of light slipping through the crack. I could see faint shadows dancing in the light. I raised my hand, placed it against the door, and took a deep breath, readying myself for whatever may be on the other side. I pushed the door open and stepped through the threshold with authority. I couldn't believe my eyes. I actually rubbed my hands over them, thinking I was imagining things. There, in my son's bed, was a young girl with curly blonde hair. She stared at me with wide eyes. She must have been terrified. I must have been a few feet taller and at least 100 pounds heavier than her. I must have been a sight to see for that little girl. But she should have considered that before breaking into my home. I called my wife and son to see what I found. "Is that a human, Papa?" "Why yes it is, Baby Bear. That's dinner."

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

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

It’s nice that my grandmother calls to check on me, but if she wants to communicate from the other side I wish she wouldn’t scream so much.

"...ssol ruoy rof yrros yrev m’I .enecs eht ta deid eH .gnineve siht revird nur dna tih a yb kcurts saw ekib s’nos ruoY .swen dab emos evah I diarfa m’I tub ,yrros ylbirret ma I”— em teL .seY“ .hgis detaefed a tuo tel eH .reciffo mirg eht deksa ”?nosrevlaH .rM“ .thgil hcrop eht rednu doots reciffo ecilop A .ti denepo dna rood eht ot tnew ,pu tog eh ,gnilbmerT .esrow srettam ekam ylno dluow gninnuR .ti rewsna tub od dluoc eh gnihton saw erehT .em dnuof yehT .mih htaeneb yawa delbmurc ylneddus dlrow sih dna rood tnorf eht no deppat enoemos nehT ?won thgir ecilop eht ot og tsuj ton yhW .enog erutuf sih ,enog ylimaf sih ,enog reerac sih ,liaj ni sraey gninigami yb flesmih dehsinup dna siht erofeb emirc a dettimmoc reven d’eH ?nur uoy did yhW .emoh tog eh litnu rorrim weivraer sih no eye na gnipeek dna nekahs ,ssenkrad eht otni soahc eht morf yawa gnihceercs dna sag eht no gnippets ,dekcinap eh dna ylirgna deralb snroH .tnemevap eht no thgis fo tuo llef dna dooh sih ssorca dellor tsilcycib eht neht ,tloj tneloiv a saw ereht dnoces tilps a ni dna thgir sih morf emac rulb egnaro nA .detarelecca dna yrruh a ni saw eh tub ,der denrut thgil ehT .dnim sih ni revo dna revo gniyalp tpek gnineve taht reilrae tnedicca ehT .ruoh na revo rof devom t’ndah eH .moor gnivil krad sih ni tas nosrevlaH yobnniM resu tiddeR :yb nettirW .enod sah eh tahw htiw epoc ot seirt nam a ,yrots trohs rorroh siht nI tnediccA ehT :yrotS trohS rorroH

ᴰᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵀʳᵘˢᵗ ᴵᵗ ᔆᵗᵒʳʸ ˡᵉⁿᵍᵗʰ⠘ ᴹᵉᵈⁱᵘᵐ ᴹʸ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ⁱˢ ᵃ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗ ᵐᵃⁿ‧ ᶠᵒᵘʳᵗᵉᵉⁿ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃᵍᵒ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵉⁿᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵃ ˢᵒˡᵒ ᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵐᵃⁿ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵗʳᵃᵛᵉˡ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵃ ʷᵒʳᵐʰᵒˡᵉ⸴ ˡᵒᶜᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵐᵃˢˢⁱᵛᵉ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴱᵃʳᵗʰ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿ ʷᵃˢ ᵘⁿᵍᵘᵃʳᵃⁿᵗᵉᵉᵈ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵖʳᵉᵖᵃʳᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᶜʳⁱᶠⁱᶜᵉ‧ ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʷᵉˡᵛᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵒᵘʳ ᵖˡᵃⁿᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᴳʳᵉᵃᵗ ᵁⁿᵏⁿᵒʷⁿ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵒʳ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿ‧ ᴵᵗ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ ᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵃᶜʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵈᵍᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵐʰᵒˡᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉ ᵖʳᵉᵖᵃʳᵉᵈ ᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᵛᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉᵃʳ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ ᴺⁱⁿᵉ ᵐⁱⁿᵘᵗᵉˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʰⁱˢ ˢᵖᵃᶜᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ᵇʳᵉᵃᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵐʰᵒˡᵉ ᵃ ˢⁱⁿᵍˡᵉ ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉ ʷᵃˢ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵗʳᵃⁿˢᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ʷᵃˢ ᶜᵘᵗ⠘ “ᴰᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵗʳᵘˢᵗ ⁱᵗ”‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᶜʳʸᵖᵗⁱᶜ ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵈⁱˢᵐⁱˢˢᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᶜᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ ᵀʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ⸴ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ᶠⁱᵛᵉ ʷᵉᵉᵏˢ ˡᵃᵗᵉʳ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁱᵍⁿᵃˡ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵒⁿˡⁱⁿᵉ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ˢʰⁱᵖ ʰᵃᵈ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵇᵉʸᵒⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵐʰᵒˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʳᵃᵛᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒʷᵃʳᵈˢ ᴱᵃʳᵗʰ ⁱⁿᵗᵃᶜᵗ‧ ᔆᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵃⁿˣⁱᵒᵘˢ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵐᵒʳᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰⁱᵖ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶜᵉᵃⁿ‧ ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵃˡʳᵉᵃᵈʸ ᵃ ᵍʳᵒʷⁿ ᵐᵃⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ ʰᵃᵈ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᶠᵒᵘʳᵗᵉᵉⁿ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ᴵ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᶜʳʸᵒ⁻ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ʰᵃᵈ ˢˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵃᵍⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᵃ ᵈᵃʸ ᵒˡᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ‧ ᴴᵒʷᵉᵛᵉʳ⸴ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵉᵉᵐᵉᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱᵐ; ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵃⁿ ᴵ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳᵉᵈ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ ʰᵃᵈ ˡᵒˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˢᵖᵃʳᵏ⸴ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ʰᵃᵈ ˡᵒˢᵗ ⁱᵗˢ ˢⁱᵍⁿᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵍʳⁱⁿ‧‧‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ’ᵗ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵃⁿˢᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵒⁿ⸴ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁱᵛᵉᵈ ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵖᵃⁱⁿᶠᵘˡ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃᵍᵒ‧ “ᴰᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵗʳᵘˢᵗ ⁱᵗ” ᴹʸ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ʷᵃˢ ᵃ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗ ᵐᵃⁿ⸴ ᴮᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐʸ ᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ‧ – ᶜʳᵉᵈⁱᵗˢ ᵗᵒ⠘ ᵗʰⁱⁿˢᵗⁱᶜᵏ

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

!ecin ytinummoc eht peek ot tnaw ew ,selur eht wollof dna tcepser esaelP dewolla ton era sruls fo esu eht siht ot noitidda nI- .cte ,tnemssarah ,msicar gnidulcni detarelot eb ton lliw yrotsih ni stniop elbirret yfirolg taht seliforp yna dna 2wW seifirolg taht scitehtsea 2ww /izaN sedulcni siht ,dewolla ton era seliforp evitisnesnI gnisuba fo noitnem eht edulcni taht sekoj ro yalpelor ,seirots noitidda nI- gninraw reggirt a evah tsum stcejbus gnireggirt gnivlovni seirots ynA -----

r/shortscarystories 1 yr. ago GuyAwks The Grief Is Always Greener There is no pain worse than burying your own chıld. When my son was first dıagnosed with leukemia, I fell apart. As loved ones and well-wishers stepped in to offer assistance, I longed to shut myself away from it all. Even though I knew they meant well, I couldn’t stand the attention. All I wanted was my old life back with Billy healthy. By the time the cáncer took my Àngel from me, I was a different person. In place of the warm kindness I once fostered, now all I could feel was bitterness and resentments. Nobody was the recipient of this newfound jealousy more than my neighbor Cathy—and her daughter Ella. From the moment they approached me at the wake to offer condolence, I irrationally hated them. Why did it have to be me going through this agonizing loss, and not Cathy? Why was it my kid deprived of growing up, and not Ella? Despite resisting, I felt these spiteful emotions surge through me like a flashfire every time I saw her coming home from school, playing in her backyard, greeting me in public. Before I knew it, I began to fantasize about Cathy’s child, too. I pictured her shriveling up and wasting away like Billy had. They were deplorable thoughts but I couldn’t stop myself from feelıng them. Like some malevolent force, I sensed a pure, toxıc malice radiating out of my mind and into Ella. It was as if my grief had manifested into a living evıl. That’s when the unthinkable started occurring. Day by day, out of nowhere, Ella’s health mysteriously began deteriorating. As I’d imagined happening, the little girl next door became lethargic, pale and in bed, the same way that Billy had. Cathy was beside herself and drew a crowd of sympathetic faces to her side, like I had. My mind couldn’t have really caused this, right? They were just thoᥙghts, the indulgent thoughts of a broken, grieving woman. But I couldn’t deny the clear results, nor could I deny that part of me felt sated by it. My cosmic venom kept being transmitted to that poor girl. Until finally, like Billy, she passed away. Attending Ella’s wake, any feelings of catharsis had now been replaced by guilt. There was no fairness I could see, no justice. Just two stolen lives. Against all reason, I felt the urge to confess my mystical hand in this to Cathy. But, as I went to spill my heart out, she confessed to me first. “Martha, I just have to tell somebody: I po𝚤soned Ella to dEath with cleanser!” I was speechless. “I know it’s awful” she cries to me, batting her mascara-tinged lashes. “But I was so jeαlous seeing all the attention you got when Billy died.” “There’s no paın worse than watching your frıend bury theır own chıld.”

‘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.”

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 2 days ago 54321RUN "It's not that unheard of for a child to be born with an extra toe," the doctor assured us after my daughter's birth. But I had my doubts when another six legs started sprouting out a few days later.

“I came home from a hard day of work only to find my girlfriend holding our child. I didn’t know which was more horrifying, seeing my dead girlfriend and child, or knowing someone put them there.” -Edwin Reifer

rorroh-etirw-ot-woh/moc.sobmocijome//:sptth rorroh-gniod-erofeb-daer/moc.sobmocijome//:sptth

ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ/ᴋɪʟʟɪɴɢ Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 3 mo. ago FredStyx My journey of Reincarnation As soon as I died I forgot who I was in life, I passed into the afterlife and was cordially advised that reincarnation was a reality of one's soul and was an important lesson in my soul journey. Due to a few poor choices I made during life, I was told I needed to pay my karmic debt back by reincarnating one individual life cycle for every person I let down during my own life. Once I completed all these life cycles, my slate would be wiped clean and I would finally be free to ascend upwards to the next realm. It sounded like a fair deal to me. To my disgust though, my reincarnation journey started off as a rat! I lived my first disgusting, lonely existence for 3-months before my neck was snapped in a rat-trap. My next life as a house mouse lasted about 4 weeks before a giant boot crushed me while I was nibbling bread crumbs on a kitchen floor.. I still remember the intense pain of my little bones breaking. Since then I've been poisoned, drowned, diseased and lived in the most filthy conditions.. I can't remember how many miserable, humiliating ways I've died but they were all dreadful. Just a week ago I starved to death on a glue mat trying to reach a block of cheese, it took a week to die just from starvation! I didn't always respawn as a rat or mouse though, sometimes I was a cockroach or a flea, but those life cycles weren't too pleasant either and always ended painfully. I'm sure I must be getting close to completing all these life cycles by now! Something's been feeling really off lately...I feel like I've done this thousands of times already. I don't remember what it is I did though? The power of memory of my human life was taken from me. It can't have been this bad though? I feel like I'm being unfairly punished. The other weird thing is that at the start of each life I see words appear in my field of vision, and my most recent life-cycle appeared like this: 'Name: Adolf Hitler. Deaths Caused: 85,000,000 Death Debt Remaining: 84,645,200' I can barely read, and I don't know who that guy was or what he or I did when I was him, but I sure hope those words mean I've nearly paid this debt off by now, I've had quite enough indeed. I hate being vermin, it's just so cruel and demeaning. And I really hope that one day for me, there might be a final solution.

Wanna search something specific her? be it fanfic or drama, lists of tags on the following sites: https://kitugame.com/tagging https://bestnickname.com/tags

Spongebob's house _ |\/ \/| \¯\/¯\/¯/ ╱¯¯¯¯╲ _ /'X'X'X'|_|| |O'X'X'X|¯¯ |'X.-.X'| \X'|*|O'/ ##/¯\## Squidward's house _____ | | /_____\ |¯|0| |0|¯| \_| /_\ |_/ / /¯\ \ |_|_|_| /===\ Patrick's house <╷< .─¯¯¯¯─. / \ '──____──' / \ Krusty krab ._._. \###/ _ ╷╷ V __ ¯|¯ //¯¯──¯¯¯// \\ | ||[] [] O||##|| | ||.─.─.─.||##|| ' ''' ' ' ''' '' Chum bucket >¯¯< .─\_c/─. (_______) \ Chum / | Bucket| \ |¯| / ╹╹╹╹ Mr.Crabs's house __ .__(())__. \──|[]|──/ _ | | _ / \ | | / \ \ \|__|/ / ¯─__||__─¯ / \ Sandy's house ____ .¯─.─_¯. / {_ .} \_ | O )( //*\ ¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯

favorite(s) SpongeBob shipping Karendy — the ship between Sandy and Karen krabbob (spongebob x mr krabs) Larrick — the ship between Larry the Lobster and Patrick Star MR KRABS AND MRS PUFF + KRUFF PatBob(SpongeBobxPatrick) Plabs — the ship between Mr. Krabs and Sheldon Plankton Plankaren — the ship between Plankton and Karen PlankBob — the ship between SpongeBob and Sheldon Plankton Plankward — the ship between Plankton and Squidward Tentacles Sandrick — the ship between Patrick and Sandy Cheeks Spandrick Sandy Cheeks · Patrick Star Spandward — the ship between SpongeBob, Sandy Cheeks and Squidward Tentacles Spandy(SpongeBobxSandy) Squandy(Squidward vs Sandy) SquidBob(Squidward vs SpongeBob) SquidPatBob — the ship between SpongeBob, Squidward Tentacles and Patrick Star

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.

benevola • 2y ago I like making my main character vulnerable and that usually means hurting him. He’s a pretty tightly-wound guy and I like to show him with his guard down. Plus the comfort part is usually so satisfying to write.

.taht tuoba ton er'eW .enoemos hsab ot si esoprup niam s'taht seirots gnitirw fo raelc reetS .dewolla ton era esimed ro/dna tnemtaert lamina hsrah gnivlovni seirotS .taht rof ecalp eht ton era eW .etis siht fo tuo eritas lacitilop ticilpxe peeK .tnempiuqe snoitacinummocelet ro erawdrah ro erawtfos retupmoc yna ot ssecca dezirohtuanu elbane ro ,fo ytilanoitcnuf eht timil ,yortsed ,tpurretni ot dengised smargorp ro selif ,edoc retupmoc rehto yna ro sesuriv erawtfos sniatnoc taht lairetam yna elbaliava ekam esiwrehto ro timsnart ,liame ,tsop ,daolpu ton oD .slaudividni tuoba pissog ro/dna sromur detaitnatsbusnu daerps ro ,emafed ,rednals taht seirots etirw ot dewolla ton era uoY .dewolla ton era semirc tneloiv fo smitciv gnitsixe lautca fo nuf ekam taht seirots ,ylralimiS .eb ot uoy rof ecalp eht ton si siht neht ti ni sresu rehto eht htiw tsixeoc tonnac uoy fi dna ,ytinummoc a si sihT .etis siht no erehwyna mrof/epahs/yaw yna ni sresu rehto gnimrah ni tseretni na sserpxe ro ,netaerht ,etadimitni ,ssarah ton oD .tcudnoc lanimirc segaruocne ro enecsbo si taht tnetnoc yna timsnart ro tsop ton oD .sresu rehto etadimitni ro etanosrepmi ,netaerht ,ssarah ,esuba ton oD tcudnoC resU

░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▒▒░░░░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓██▒░░░▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░▒▒░▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░▒▒▒▒░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░▒░▒▒▒░░▒▓░▒▒▒░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▒▒░░░▒░▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▓█▒░░▒▒▒░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▓▒░▒▒█▓▒░░▒▒▒░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▓▒░░░░▒▒▒░▒▒░▒▒▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░▒▒░▒▒░▒▒░░░░░▒▓█████▓████▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒░▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓████▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒░▒▒░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░ ░▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒░░░░░▒▒▒░░▒▒░░░░▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓░░▒▒░░░░░░▒░▒▒░░░▒▒░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░ ▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░▓░░░░░░░▒▓░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒░░░▒▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░ ░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░▒▒▓▒░░░▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░ ░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▒▒░░░░░▒▓▒░░░░░▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░ ░░░▒▓▓▓▓▒░░▒▓▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░▓█▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒░▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▒░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░▓████▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒░░░░▒▒▒░░░░▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░▓▓██████▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒░▒▓▒▒▒░░▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▒░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓███████▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░▒▒░▒▒▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▓███▓▓▓██▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒░░░▒░░░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓██████▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓█▒░░░▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒░░░▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓███████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▓▓██▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓██████▓▓█████▓▓██████▒░▒▒▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓░░░░░▒▒▒▒▒░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░▓▓▓█▒▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓██▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒▒░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░███████▒░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▒░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░▒██████▒░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░▒▒▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░▓▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░▓▒██▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒░░░░░░░░░░▒█████▓▓░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▒▒▒▒░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░

→ уєѕтєя∂αу ιѕ нιѕтσяу. тσмσяяσω ιѕ муѕтєяу. тσ∂αу ιѕ α gιƒт. тнαт ιѕ ωну ιт ιѕ ¢αℓℓє∂ “тнє ρяєѕєηт”. ℓινє ιη “тнє ρяєѕєηт” αη∂ мαкє уσυя ℓιƒє вєαυтιƒυℓ тσ∂αу → ƒσυя ƒα¢тѕ тσ ℓινє вєттєя ℓιƒє ; 1ѕт: ηєνєя ѕαу ѕσяяу тσ тнє σηє , ωнσ ℓιкєѕ уσυ. 2η∂: ηєνєя ѕαу вує тσ тнє σηє , ωнσ ηєє∂ѕ уσυ. 3я∂: ηєνєя вℓαмє тнє σηє , ωнσ яєαℓℓу тяυѕтѕ уσυ. 4тн: ηєνєя ƒσяgєт тнє σηє , ωнσ αℓωαуѕ яємємвєяѕ уσυ → ѕмιℓє ƒσя тнє σηєѕ уσυ ℓσνє… α ѕιмρℓє ѕмιℓє ιѕ αℓℓ ιт тαкєѕ тσ мαкє σηє нαρρу… ℓσνє ¢αη ¢σмє ιη мαηу ∂郃єяєηт ωαуѕ, ѕнαρєѕ η ѕιzєѕ … вυт α ѕιмρℓє ѕмιℓє ωιℓℓ ¢σηqυєя єνєяутнιηg … αη∂ ℓєανє тнє вєѕт σƒ υѕ ѕρєє¢нℓєѕѕ … → α ѕιηgℓє нαяѕн ωσя∂ ѕρσкєη αт тнє тιмє σƒ αηgєя ιѕ ѕσ ρσιѕσησυѕ тнαт ιт мαкєѕ υѕ тσ ƒσяgєт тнє 100 ℓσναвℓє ¢σηνєяѕαтισηѕ ωιтнιη ѕє¢ση∂ѕ. → ιη συя ℓιƒє нαρριηєѕѕ ιѕ мσяє ιмρσятαηт тнαη ѕмιℓє ¢αυѕє ѕмιℓє ¢σмєѕ ƒяσм ℓιρѕ вυт нαρριηєѕѕ ¢σмєѕ ƒяσм тнє нєαят ѕσ вє нαρρу ƒσяєνєя → gσσ∂ вєнανισя ¢αη ¢σνєя тнє ℓα¢к σƒ gσσ∂ ℓσσкѕ вυт gσσ∂ ℓσσкѕ ¢αη ηєνєя ¢σνєя тнє ℓα¢к σƒ gσσ∂ вєнανισя ѕσ кєєρ уσυя вєнανισя αт тнє вєѕт ℓєνєℓ

6/7/2024 fancy font alphabet :) (an easier way to use these: go on instafonts.io) 𝒂 𝒃 𝒄 𝒅 𝒆 𝒇 𝒈 𝒉 𝒊 𝒋 𝒌 𝒍 𝒎 𝒏 𝒐 𝒑 𝒒 𝒓 𝒔 𝒕 𝒖 𝒗 𝒘 𝒙 𝒚 𝒛 𝑨 𝑩 𝑪 𝑫 𝑬 𝑭 𝑮 𝑯 𝑰 𝑱 𝑲 𝑳 𝑴 𝑵 𝑶 𝑷 𝑸 𝑹 𝑺 𝑻 𝑼 𝑽 𝑾 𝑿 𝒀 𝒁 love uuu <3 search hiii_happeygirl for more ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──-

I destroy the monsters you don’t ever want to know about. by KMApok 'Why is there bad in the world?' It’s a common question, but it is misplaced. Light and dark. Without one, the other cannot exist. I roam the Earth, disposing of the bad wherever I find it. I destroy the ones you don’t even want to know about. I eliminate them completely so you can sleep at night. You people have no idea how many of you live because of the suffocating work I do. 'What about criminals, Mussolini, Adolph...' Well, those are the 'minor' ones I had to let live. For balance. The ones I suffocatingly destroy are too horrible and vile to even speak of... You see, I would wager you never have heard of me, specifically in any religious texts. Still I bet you have known of me. Some, for example, have their own name for me: SID's short for what you might call Sudden Infant Death Syndrome..

I NEED SOME BREAD AND CEREAL TOO June 7, 2017 @hellofinah You get a phone call from your Mum. Since her car has been in the shop, she asks you to go to the grocery store and pick up a few odds and ends for her. Bread, milk, cereal, and chicken... After writing down a small list you reluctantly get in the car and pick up the items at the store. Cashier makes an odd remark to you: “you know, we’re in no danger of a milk shortage...” Once arriving at mum's home, you knock several times. No answer. You decide to try the door. It opens. You place the grocery bag on the counter. Strange. There seems to be six other grocery bags, each with identical contents. In some bags, the chicken and milk have gone stale. You call out for mum, but no reply. You make your way through the kitchen and into the living room. Sitting on the couch, with her detached head neatly resting on her lap, is mum. Naturally you call the police who come over to investigate. They mention that she has been dead for nearly a week. Furthermore, the police psychiatrist is at the scene and talks to you after you give your initial statement. Sitting on the front steps, you overhear the psychiatrist talking with the crime scene investigator. “It’s not uncommon for people suffering from schizophrenia to get locked into series of repetitive behaviour” he says. You think to yourself, “They can’t be talking about me. Schizophrenia? Nah. Repetitive behavior? Do they think I did this?” Suddenly your cell phone goes off. “Hello?” “Hi hun, it’s me. Could you stop at the store and pick up some chicken and milk. Ohh, and I need some bread and cereal too.” “No problem, mum; I’ll be right over…”

!snoitome ruoy deeh dna ,gnitirw nuf evaH .rednatsyb ro ,mitciv ,nialliv eht eb rotarran eht evah nac uoY .amuart gniyfirolg on tub ,tolp eht ot sniatrap ti sa rafosni yrots ni ).cte ,espylacopa ,snosiop ,htaed ybab ,labinnac( scipot laitnetop noitnem nac uoY .ylthgil ).cte ,tceffe elbuod eht ,ediciteof ,noitucexe( scipot laisrevortnoc )noitercsid htiw( esu nac uoY )luftcepsersid sa .cte ,serutluc ,snoigiler ,seitirohtua niatrec gniyartrop( spuorg gnipytoeretS~ .cte ,nosiop ,tcudba ylpmi nac uoy hguohtla )egairram degnarra ,noitatiolpxe ekil( esubA~ .fleseno ecifircas retcarahc a evah ,revewoh ,nac uoY .cte ,mrah fleS~ 'tsohg fo ecneserp ta slworg god eht' ekil gnihtemos eb naC .slaminA~ .liated cihparg yrassecennu gnidiova ,eroG~ .gnihtemos ro 'raed ho' ekil yas naC .ytinaforP~ :spit emos era ereH .tsiwt tolp emos ro gnidne eht yawa evig yam sgninraw reggirT .kcatta cinap esuac ot sa gninethgirf ot ton tub ,yracs eb ot tnaem s'rorroh ,esruoc fO .tnuocca ot-ni ekat ot senilediug etaredisnoc emos s'erehT .cte ,evitcepsrep ,s'namuh-non fo noitacifinosreP .snosaer tnereffid ynam rof rorroh ekil yam elpoeP

→ ѕмιℓє ιѕ α ℓαηgυαgє σƒ ℓσνє, ѕмιℓє ιѕ α ѕσυя¢є тσ ωιη нєαят, ѕмιℓє ιѕ α ηαмє σƒ ℓσνєℓу мσσ∂, ѕмιℓє ¢яєαтє gяєαтηєѕѕ ιη ρєяѕσηαℓιту ѕσ кєєρ ѕмιℓιηg → gσσ∂ яєℓαтισηѕнιρѕ αяє ℓιкє тяєєѕ тнєу ∂ємαη∂ αттєηтιση &αмρ; ¢αяє ιη тнє вєgιηηιηg вυт ση¢є тнєу вℓσѕѕσмѕ тнєу ρяσνι∂є υ ѕнα∂є ιη αℓℓ ѕιтυαтισηѕ σƒ ℓιƒє → ι кєρт уσυя ηαмє ιη му נσυяηαℓ, αη∂ ρσѕтє∂ уσυ ιη тнє ℓє∂gєя σƒ му нєαят, уσυ ωσηт вє ¢ℓαѕѕιƒιє∂ αѕ ƒιχє∂ αѕѕєтѕ, вє¢αυѕє тнє мαякєт ναℓυє σƒ ƒяιєη∂ѕнιρ ωιℓℓ ηєνєя ∂єρяє¢ιαтє ƒяσм нєαят. → ι тнιηк υ я νєяу ¢αяєℓєѕѕ!!! υ ¢σмє &αмρ; ℓєανє тнιηgѕ вєнιη∂!!!! ѕєє ησω ωнαт υ нανє ℓєƒт?? υ נυѕт ¢αмє ιη му мιη∂ &αмρ; ℓєƒт α ѕмιℓє ση му ƒα¢є…. → нαρριηєѕѕ ιѕ α ρєяƒυмє. уσυ ¢αηησт ѕρяєα∂ ση σтнєяѕ ωιтнσυт gєттιηg α ƒєω ∂яσρѕ ση υяѕєℓƒ. ѕσ αℓωαуѕ вє нαρρу тσ мαкє σтнєяѕ нαρρу ! → ѕσ ѕωєєт ιѕ υя ѕмιℓє….. ѕσ ѕωєєт ιѕ υя ѕтуℓє….. ѕσ ѕωєєт ιѕ υя νσι¢є….. ѕσ ѕωєєт ιѕ υя єує……. ѕєє нσω ѕωєєтℓу ι ℓιє!! → ωну ∂σ ωє ¢ℓσѕє συя єуєѕ ωнєη ωє ρяαу ωнєη ωє ¢яу ωнєη ωє ∂яєαм ωнєη ωє кιѕѕ вє¢αυѕє тнє мσѕт вєαυтιƒυℓ тнιηg ιη ℓιƒє αяє ησт ѕєєη. вυт ƒєℓт ву тнє нєαят! ∂єƒιηιтєℓу υ,му ƒяιєη∂:) ! → тнσυgнт ƒσя тнє ∂αу” αℓωαуѕ вє тнє яєαѕση σƒ ѕσмєσηє’ѕ нαρριηєѕѕ ηєνєя נυѕт α ραят σƒ ιт. вє α ραят σƒ ѕσмєσηє’ѕ ѕα∂ηєѕѕ ηєνєя тнє яєαѕση ƒσя ιт. → ѕωєєт ƒяυιтѕ я ηι¢є 2 єαт, ѕωєєт ωσя∂ѕ я ηι¢є 2 ѕαу, вυт ѕωєєт ρєσρℓє я яєαℓℓу нαя∂ 2 ƒιη∂. му gσσ∂ηєѕѕ, нσω тнє нєℓℓ ∂ι∂ υ мαηαgє 2 ƒιη∂ мє → α ѕмιℓє gινєѕ яє∂ ¢σℓσυя 2 υя ¢нєєкѕ, ωнιтє 2 υя тєєтн, ριηк ¢σℓσυя 2 υя ℓιρѕ, ѕιℓνєя ¢σℓσυя 2 υя єуєѕ, ѕσ кєєρ ѕмιℓιηg &αмρ; єηנσу тнє ¢σℓσυяѕ σƒ ℓιƒє → ℓσνє υяѕєℓƒ ,ƒℓιят ωιтн υя υη∂єяѕтαη∂ιηg,яσмαη¢є ωιтн ∂яєαмѕ,gєт єηgαgє∂ ωιтн ѕιмρℓι¢ιту,мαяяу gєηυιηєѕѕ,∂ινσя¢є тнє єgσ…тнαтѕ gσσ∂ ℓιƒє… → ωσя∂ѕ αη∂ нєαятѕ ѕнσυℓ∂ вє нαη∂ℓє∂ ¢αяєƒυℓℓу, вє¢αυѕє ωσя∂ѕ ωнєη ѕρσкєη &αмρ; нєαятѕ ωнєη вяσкєη αяє тнє нαя∂єѕт тнιηgѕ тσ яєραιя → ѕσмє∂αу уσυ мαу ℓσѕє уσυя нαιя. уσυ мαу ℓσѕє уσυя тєєтн- σуυя мσηєу &αмρ; єνєη ℓσѕє уσυя мιη∂. вυт 1 тнιηg уσυ ωιℓℓ ηєνєя ℓσσѕє ιѕ σуυя gσσ∂ ℓσσкѕ. вє¢αυѕє уσυ ¢αηт ℓσѕє ωнαт уσυ ∂ση’т нανє! → мαкιηg α мιℓℓιση ƒяιєη∂ѕ ιѕ ησт αη α¢нιєνємєηт, тнє α¢нιєνємєηт ιѕ тσ мαкє “α” ƒяιєη∂ ωнσ ωιℓℓ ѕтαη∂ ву уσυ ωнєη α мιℓℓιση αяє αgαιηѕт уσυ….! → ѕмσσтн яσα∂ѕ ηєνєя мαкє gσσ∂ ∂яινєяѕ! ѕмσσтн ѕєα ηєνєя мαкєѕ gσσ∂ ѕαιℓσяѕ! ¢ℓєαя ѕкιєѕ ηєνєя мαкє gσσ∂ ριℓσтѕ! ρяσвℓєм ƒяєє ℓιƒє ηєνєя мαкєѕ α ѕтяσηg &αмρ; gσσ∂ ρєяѕση! вє ѕтяσηg єησυgн тσ α¢¢єρт тнє ¢нαℓℓєηgєяѕ σƒ ℓιƒє. ∂ση’т αѕк ℓιƒє “ωну мє?” ιηѕтєα∂ ѕαу “тяу мє!” Posted by Kiran Bele at 19:02

🧽🌈☀️

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

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

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

-August 19, 2017 What seeing red looks like. EVERYONE LOVES THE FIRST DAY OF A NEW JOB, RIGHT? NEW COLLEAGUES, NEW FRIENDS. IT’S A DAY FULL OF POTENTIAL AND HOPE, BEFORE ALL THE DREARY DEPRESSIONS OF REALITY SHOW UP TO RUIN ALL THE FUN. I LIKE THE FIRST DAY OF WORK FOR A DIFFERENT REASON THOUGH. YOU SEE, I HAVE A SORT OF POWER. WHEN I LOOK A COLORED OUTLINE BASED ON HOW LONG THAT PERSON HAS TO LIVE. MOST EVERYONE I MEET AROUND MY AGE IS SURROUNDED BY A SOLID GREEN HUE, WHICH MEANS THEY HAVE PLENTY OF TIME LEFT, LIVING TO OLD AGE. A FAIR AMOUNT OF THEM HAVE A PEACH TINGE TO THEIR AURA WHICH TENDS TO MEAN A CANCER OR DEPRESSION. ANYTHING THAT TAKES PEOPLE“BEFORE THEIR TIME” AS THEY SAY. THE REAL FUN IS WHEN THE AURAS VENTURE INTO THE RED END OF THE SPECTRUM, THOUGH. EVERY NOW AND AGAIN I’LL SEE SOMEONE WHO’S BASICALLY THROBBING FADE. IT’S SUCH A RUSH TO SEE THEM AND KNOW THEIR TIME IS NUMBERED. WITH THAT IN MIND, I ALWAYS GET TO WORK VERY EARLY SO I CAN SCOUT OUT MY COLLEAGUES’ FATES. THE FIRST MAN WHO WALKED IN WAS BASICALLY RADIATING RED. TOO BAD, BRO. BUT AS PEOPLE KEPT WALKING IN, THEY ALL HAD THE SAME RAPIDLY FADING COLOR. I FINALLY CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF MY OWN REFLECTION, SUDDENLY PLUMMETING TO A RED LIKE THE OTHERS. OUR BOSS STEPPED IN SMILING AND LOCKED THE DOOR, HIS AURA A SICKENING SHADE OF GREEN... ZENRYHAO

Go to shortscarystories r/shortscarystories 3 days ago CBenson1273 My Daughter Keeps Dying Over And Over Again One day I was out watching my daughter ride her bike. I took my eyes off her for just a second and heard a loud horn - when I looked up, a car was speeding away and her broken body was laying in the street. I must have called the police and my wife, but all I remember is sitting there, holding Maddie’s lifeless body. I vaguely recall a kind woman stopping, taking her hand, and saying “this is not the end” before walking away. Then Maddie’s hand moved. Her eyes opened and looked at me. “Daddy? What happened?” The paramedics’ insisted that her injuries must not have been that severe; I’d just panicked and assumed the worst. But I’d seen her, held her. She was dead. Maddie’s mother tried to use the accident to revisit custody, but her claim went nowhere. Life went on. The next week, I was caught in a traffic jam. Turns out a car had fatallƴ hit a phone pole. The same car that hït Maddie. A few months later, Maddie’s school called. She’d fallen off the jungle gym and landed head-first. When I arrived, the principal was waiting. She apologized, insisting it was an accident. Maddie died at the hospital; the doctors said there was nothing they could have done. Her mother said I’d be hearing from her lawyer. Later, as I sat with her, she twitched. Then she started breathing and reached for me. The doctors were stunned. I wasn’t. The following week, the news reported a student from Maddie’s school had fallen from the fourth floor of his apartment building. The same student who’d pushed Maddie from the jungle gym, despite what the principal had insisted. That evening, Maddie asked me if “the angel” had done it. She spoke of a figure that had approached her after her accident. It had said “not yet” and touched her head and she’d awoken. Touched. The woman who’d taken her hand at her accident. That had to be it. I tracked her to the outskirts of town and demanded to know what she’d done. She revealed that, sensing my grief, she’d placed a spell that would bring my daughter back. But the cost was the life of whoever kılled her. A life for a life. Horrified, I left. What did this mean? Would Maddie return every time she died? Slowly, things returned to normal. There were no more “incidents”; I didn’t see the old woman again. One night, the phone rang; it was my ex-wife. Surprising since we didn’t speak except regarding Maddie. “Jack! It’s Maddie! She’s not breathıng!” “WHAT I’m on my way!” Everything was so hectic that she didn’t notice how quickly I arrived at the hospital. Or that I wasn’t more distraught. Or that Maddie was already dead. If only she’d known about Maddie’s recently-revealed peanut allergy before she’d served those cookies. I wasn’t worried - I knew Maddie would be fine.. Yet Carol wouldn’t be so lucky.

Tinder is completely useless, and I don't have a single match. If I don't find another way to start a campfire tonight, I'll freeze to death. (tumblr) 🖤

‘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.

" I ᴡᴀʟᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴀɴᴅ sᴀᴡ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴄᴀɴᴅʟᴇ ɢʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ; Mʏ ғᴏʟᴋs ᴡᴇʀᴇ sɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴘᴀᴛɪᴇɴᴛʟʏ, sᴛᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ɪᴛ. “Hᴇ’s ʜᴇʀᴇ, I ᴄᴀɴ ғᴇᴇʟ ɪᴛ.” Tʜᴇ ʟᴀᴅʏ ᴍᴜᴍʙʟᴇᴅ, ᴀs I ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ʜᴀɴᴅs. " ʙʏ Eʟɪsᴇʜғᴀʟʟ2

Horror Confessions @Horror_Fessions "When I was 8 I would hear what seemed like a younger girl calling for me in my back yard, my mom decided to ask around to see if any young boys had the same name as I did, turns out 8 years prior, a girl and her brother with the same name as I were murdered in a courtyard behind our house."

shortscarystories.tumblr.com 🖤 You locked your doors and Windows to prevent me from entering. Too bad I'm already inside.

“ᵂᵃⁱᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ʳᵒᵒᵐ⸴ ᵐʸ ᵈᵉᵃʳ‧ ᴵ’ˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᶠʳᵉˢʰˡʸ ᵇᵃᵏᵉᵈ ᶜᵒᵒᵏⁱᵉˢ!” ᴬˡᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ᵖʳᵒⁿᵉ ᵗᵒ ˡⁱˢᵗᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ⁱⁿˢᵗʳᵘᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ⸴ ᶜᵘʳⁱᵒˢⁱᵗʸ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵉ‧ ᴵ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵉˣᵖˡᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ‧ ᴾʳᵒʷˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ⸴ ᴵ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ᵃ ˢᵗᵃⁱʳᶜᵃˢᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵘᵖˢᵗᵃⁱʳˢ‧ ᑫᵘⁱᵉᵗˡʸ⸴ ᴵ ᵗⁱᵖᵗᵒᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉᶜᵒⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵒʳᵉʸ‧ ᴴᵉʳᵉ⸴ ᴵ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᶜᵒʳʳⁱᵈᵒʳ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ‧ ᴬˡᵒⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ˡᵃʸ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗˡᵉˢˢ ᵈᵒᵒʳˢ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᶠᵉʷ ˢᵗᵉᵖˢ ᴵ ˢᵃʷ ᵃ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ᵗᵒ ᵐʸ ˡᵉᶠᵗ⸴ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿᶠⁱⁿⁱᵗᵉˡʸ ˢᵐᵃˡˡ ᶜʳᵃᶜᵏ‧ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵘˢʰᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ʷⁱᵈᵉ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧ ᴵⁿˢⁱᵈᵉ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵈᵉᵃᵈ ᵇᵒᵈⁱᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ‧ ᴱᵃᶜʰ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ʰᵃˡᶠ⁻ᵉᵃᵗᵉⁿ ᶜᵒᵒᵏⁱᵉ‧

The Vanishing Hitch-Hiker Author: Jan Harold Brunvand This next eerie story is about a man driving home late in the night when he spots a girl asking for a hitchhike. The pretty girl is dressed in a beautiful white dress. The man offers her a ride and they strike up an interesting conversation. He drops the girl at her home. Next day, while driving for work he notices that the girl by accident has forgotten her sweater in his car. He drives towards her home to hand over the sweater. An old lady opens the door when he rings the bell. He narrates the incident which occurred last night and gives the sweater to the lady. The lady refuses to accept it, saying he is mistaken. The man is surprised and questions the lady again. He is dumbstruck and left in an unsettling situation when the lady says her daughter died in a car accident a couple of years ago.

ᴿᵃᶜʰᵉˡ ᶠⁱᶠᵗᵉᵉⁿʰᵒᵘʳˢ⁻ᶜʳᵉᵉᵖʸˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵉˢ⠘ ᴹʸ ᴳʳᵃⁿᵈᵐᵃ ʷᵃˢ ᵃ ʰᵒᵃʳᵈᵉʳ‧ ᴵ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ⁱᵗ ʷᵃˢ ᵃ ᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃˡ ᵈⁱˢᵉᵃˢᵉ ˢʰᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ᵗʳᵒᵘᵇˡᵉ ᵈᵉᵃˡⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ‧ ʸᵃʳᵈ ˢᵃˡᵉˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ʷᵉᵉᵏᵉⁿᵈ‧ ᴳᵒᵒᵈʷⁱˡˡ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵈᵃʸ‧ ᵀʰᵉʳᵉ ʷᵃˢ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ˢʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ˢʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵇᵘʸ‧ ᴱᵛᵉʳʸ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ᵒᵘʳ ᵖʳᵉˢᵉⁿᵗˢ ʷᵉʳᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵉⁱʳᵈ ᶜᵒˡˡᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ʲᵘⁿᵏ ˢʰᵉ ᵖⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ‧ ᵀʰᵉⁿ ᵒᵘʳ ᶜᵒᵘˢⁱⁿ⸴ ᴿᵃᶜʰᵉˡ⸴ ʷᵃˢ ᵏⁱᵈⁿᵃᵖᵖᵉᵈ‧ ᴿᵃᶜʰᵉˡ ʰᵃᵈ ˡⁱᵛᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᴳʳᵃⁿᵈᵐᵃ⸴ ˢᵒ ᵗʰⁱˢ ʷᵃˢ ᵃ ʰᵘᵍᵉ ˢᵉᵗᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵐʸ ᴳʳᵃⁿᵈᵐᵃ’ˢ ᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃˡ ʰᵉᵃˡᵗʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵘᵇˢᵉᑫᵘᵉⁿᵗˡʸ⸴ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵒᵃʳᵈⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴵᵗ ᵍᵒᵗ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ʷᵒʳˢᵉ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃˡᵏᵉᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ʰᵉʳ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ʷᵃˡᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿᶜˡⁱⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʳⁱⁿᵏᵉᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵃˡᶠ ᵇʳᵒᵏᵉⁿ ᵗᵒʸˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁿᵒ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ‧ ᴳʳᵃⁿᵈᵐᵃ ᵐᵒᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᴿᵃᶜʰᵉˡ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵈⁱᵈ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ʷʰᵒ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ʰᵉʳ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᴳʳᵃⁿᵈᵐᵃ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ ˡᵃˢᵗ ʷᵉᵉᵏ⸴ ᵐʸ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ˢᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵃˢᵏ ᵒᶠ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳ ᵒˡᵈ ʰᵒᵘˢᵉ‧ ᵁⁿᵈᵉʳⁿᵉᵃᵗʰ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ʲᵘⁿᵏ⸴ ʷᵉ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ⁴ ᵃⁿⁱᵐᵃˡ ˢᵏᵉˡᵉᵗᵒⁿˢ‧ ᴹⁱᶜᵉ⸴ ᶜᵃᵗˢ⸴ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵉⁱᵗʰᵉʳ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵃ ˢᵐᵃˡˡ ᵈᵒᵍ ᵒʳ ᵃ ʳᵃᶜᶜᵒᵒⁿ‧ ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ᶠᵘʳᵗʰᵉʳ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ⸴ ʷᵉ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵉˡˢᵉ⸴ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵉʳʳⁱᶠʸⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴿᵃᶜʰᵉˡ‧ – ᶜʳᵉᵈⁱᵗˢ ᵗᵒ⠘ ᵏʳˢʰᵃⁿⁿ

As I played in the basement, Mother called me upstairs. From behind me, She whispered, ‘Don’t go up there.’ — CheckeredBag

seirots hcus ni- spuorg niatrec~ liated yrassecennu~ slamina~ -tuoba gnitirw diova

r/shortscarystories 4 yr. ago RVKony Join The Blind Child "Stãbbing." Sylvia pointed a trembling finger at my brother Arthur. Her milky, unseeing eyes gleamed in his direction, and his wife, Agnes, trembled with indignation from across the table. My husband's face colored as he dropped his fork and dragged our daughter back into her bedroom, scolding her as they went. The rest of the night was awkward, and the pep in our conversation never recovered. Two weeks later, Agnes was st*bbed to dEath in her office parking lot. An college student found her, and called the cops. My brother swore that he bore no ill will against my daughter, but I could tell that he was lying. One day, the middle-aged woman who taught my daughter how to read her braille called me. "Ma'am, I don't know what's going on but your daughter's been whispering, 'electrocution, electrocution,' for the past half-hour and it's starting to distract her from her lessons. Could you please talk to her?" I did. Sylvia, in her nine-year-old lack of understanding, told me it was "just a cool new word" she learnt at school. The dEath of an electrician made headlines the following week. It was a freak accident involving tangled wires and a bucket of water. Sylvia's teacher's face was blurred for privacy, but her voice was as familiar as anything to me: "He was…my partner…my soulmate." While my husband was working late, I called Sylvia into the living room. "Honey, is there anything Mommy should know?" She hesitated. "Honey, you know you can talk to me." She denied it once more, "I have no secrets from you, Mommy." My husband walked into the living room with his hair tousled and his eyes distant. Instead of rushing to hug her dad, Sylvia simply turned towards him. "Fire," she said. My heart stopped. Everytime Sylvia said something like that, it was the person's partner who d1ed, and of that reason too. A fire? Was Sylvia merely making predictions, or was she cûrsêd on me for snooping in on her business? Why, this dēvıl child— I grew paranoid, checked the appliances and electronics constantly, and cleared the house of any fire hazards. That was my lįfe over the next few days. All the while, I kept my eyes on Sylvia. Sylvia. I had grown almost hateful towards my own daughter. My husband came home one night, wounded and blackened with soot, while I sat in the living room and Sylvia listened to the radio beside me. "What's the matter?" I asked. He gulped. "One of my colleagues, her house…her house caught fire. She was trapped in, but I managed to escape." That turned the gears in my head. "What were you doing in her house?" The expression on my husband's face was a sufficient admission of guilt. I opened my mouth to speak—no, to scream—but a smaller voice from beside me looked at me and whispered: "Poisoning."

r/TwoSentenceHorror 4 days ago chacde3 Halfway into our trip, the GPS arrival time switched from “Midnight” to “Never.” I was so distracted trying to figure out what it meant, I did not notice the truck veering into my lane.

ᴍʏ ᴍᴜᴍ (𝟾𝟸ғ) ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴇ (𝟷𝟸ᴍ) ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪsʜᴇs (𝟷𝟼) ʙᴜᴛ ɪ (𝟷𝟸ᴍ) ᴡᴀs ᴛᴏᴏ ʙᴜsʏ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ғᴏʀᴛɴɪᴛᴇ (𝟹 ᴋɪʟʟs) sᴏ ɪ (𝟷𝟸ᴍ) ɢʀᴀʙʙᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟʟᴇʀ (ᴅᴜᴀʟsʜᴏᴄᴋ 𝟺) ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜʀᴇᴡ ɪᴛ ᴀᴛ ʜᴇʀ (𝟷𝟹𝟾ᴋᴘʜ). sʜᴇ ʜᴇᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴅɪᴇᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ (𝟷𝟸ᴍ) ᴡᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀɪsᴏɴ (𝟷𝟾 ʏᴇᴀʀs). ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ɪɴ ᴘʀɪsᴏɴ ɪ (𝟷𝟸ᴍ) ɪɴᴄɪᴛᴇᴅ sᴇᴠᴇʀᴀʟ ʀɪᴏᴛs (𝟹) ᴀɴᴅ ᴀssᴜᴍᴇᴅ ʟᴇᴀᴅᴇʀsʜɪᴘ ᴏғ ᴀ ɢᴀɴɢ ʀᴇsᴘᴏɴsɪʙʟᴇ ғᴏʀ sᴍᴜɢɢʟɪɴɢ ᴅʀᴜɢs (ᴄᴏᴄᴀɪɴᴇ) ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛʀʏ. ɪ (𝟷𝟸ᴍ) ᴀʟsᴏ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀssᴀssɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ sᴇᴠᴇʀᴀʟ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀɪᴛɪᴇs (ᴍɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟ ᴊᴀᴄᴋsᴏɴ, ᴇʟᴠɪs ᴘʀᴇsʟᴇʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴇғғʀᴇʏ ᴇᴘsᴛᴇɪɴ) ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴛᴇʀʀᴏʀɪsᴛ ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋ (𝟿/𝟷𝟷). ʀᴇᴅᴅɪᴛ, ᴀɪᴛᴀ?

→ ιƒ 10 ρєσρℓє ¢αяє 4 υ, σηє σƒ тнєм ιѕ мє, ιƒ 1 ρєяѕση ¢αяєѕ 4 υ тнαт ωσυℓ∂ вє мє αgαιη, ιƒ ησ 1 ¢αяєѕ 4 υ тнαт мєαηѕ ι м ησт ιη тнιѕ ωσяℓ∂. → ιƒ ι нα∂ σηє ℓαѕт ωιѕн вєƒσяє ι ∂ιє … му ℓαѕт ωιѕн ωσυℓ∂ вє тнαт , уσυ ωιℓℓ ηєνєя ¢яу → тяυє ¢αяє ωιℓℓ ηєνєя gσ υηяє¢σgηιzє∂, тнσυgн σηє σƒтєη мαкєѕ мιѕтαкєѕ ιη ναℓυιηg ιт, вυт σηє ωιℓℓ ∂єƒιηιтℓу υη∂єяѕтαη∂ ση¢є ωнєη тнєу ѕтαят мιѕѕιηg ιт. → мαη тσ gσ∂: “ρℓєαѕє gινє мє єνєяутнιηg ѕσ тнαт ι ¢αη єηנσу ℓιƒє…” gσ∂ ѕмιℓє∂ αη∂ яєρℓιє∂: “ι нανє gινєη уσυ ℓιƒє тσ єηנσу єνєяутнιηg…” → ι ωιѕн αη αηgєℓ σƒ мєя¢у αℓωαуѕ ѕιтѕ ηєχт тσ уσυ &αмρ; ¢σνєяѕ уσυ ωιтн gєηтℓє ωιηgѕ ѕσ тнαт, уσυ ωαℓк ωяαρρє∂ ιη αℓℓαн’ѕ gяα¢є, ρяσтє¢тє∂ &αмρ; ρєα¢єƒυℓ ƒσяєνєя → ℓιƒє ιѕ ℓιкє α мιяяσя. ιƒ уσυ ƒяσωη αт ιт, ιт ƒяσωηѕ вα¢к. ιƒ уσυ ѕмιℓє αт ιт, ιт яєтυяηѕ тнє gяєєтιηg.

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.

→ ωнєη уσυ αяє тσ ƒαѕт тσ gєт ѕσмєωнєяє, уσυ мιѕѕ тнє ƒυη σƒ gєттιηg тнєяє. ℓιƒє ιѕ ησт α яα¢є, ѕσ тαкє ιт ѕℓσωєя αη∂ єηנσу тнє мυѕι¢ вєƒσяє тнє ѕσηg’ѕ σνєя ! → σηє ∂αу му вяαιη αѕкє∂ мє “у я υ ѕєη∂ιηg мѕgѕ тσ тнαт ρєяѕση ωнσ ιѕ ησт мєѕѕαgιηg υ? вυт му ℓιттℓє “нєαят” ѕαι∂ тσ вяαιη “υ” ηєє∂ мѕgѕ вυт ι ηєє∂ “ƒяιєη∂ѕнιρ” → ωнєη ι ωαѕ α кι∂. ι ωαηтє∂ тσ gяσω υρ ѕσση. ησω тнαт ι gяσωη υρ, ι яєαℓιzє тнαт ωσυη∂є∂ ємσтισηѕ αη∂ вяσкєη нєαятѕ.

→ υя ѕку ιѕ αѕ мυ¢н αѕ υ’∂ ωαηт тσ яєα¢н, υя ℓιƒє ιѕ αѕ ℓσηєℓу αѕ υ’∂ ℓιкє тσ мαкє; υя נσу ιѕ αѕ мυ¢н αѕ υ ∂є¢ι∂є тσ ƒєєℓ, υя ηιтє ιѕ αѕ ℓσηg αѕ уσυ ∂є¢ι∂є тσ ωαкє. ησ σηє ѕєтѕ тнє ℓιмιт ƒσя υ, ησ σηє ¢αη єт¢н тнє ѕραη σƒ тнє ѕку, αℓℓ υ ηєє∂ тσ ∂σ ιѕ яιѕє, ѕρяєα∂ υя ωιηgѕ &αмρ; ∂є¢ι∂є тσ ƒℓу. → вує ιѕ α ℓιттℓє ωσя∂ тнαт ¢αυѕєѕ ѕσ мυ¢н ραιη. тнє ρєяѕση уσυ нσℓ∂ ησω мιgнт ηєνєя мєєт уσυ αgαιη. ѕσ ηєνєя ѕαу “вує” αℓωαуѕ ѕαу “мєєт уσυ αgαιη” σя “ѕєє уσυ ѕσση” ѕєη∂ ιт тσ тнσѕє ωнσм уσυ ηєνєя ωαηт тσ ѕαу ‘вує’ ιη уσυя ℓιƒє. → тнє нαя∂єѕт ραят σƒ мιѕѕιηg ƒяιєη∂ѕ ιѕ ησт тнєιя αвѕєη¢є, ιт’ѕ ωнєη уσυ тнιηк σƒ αℓℓ тнσѕє gσσ∂ тιмєѕ αη∂ αѕк уσυяѕєℓƒ, ‘ωιℓℓ тнσѕє мσмєηтѕ єνєя нαρρєη αgαιη?’ → ѕωєєт ιѕ уσυя “ηαтυяє” ∂єαя ιѕ уσυя “ηαмє” αѕ єαятн ωαηтѕ “ωαтєя” ƒℓσωєя ωαηтѕ “∂єω” ι ωαηт ησтнιηg вυт “нαρριηєѕѕ” ƒσя υ → ηєνєя вє ρяσυ∂ ησя ∂єρяєѕѕє∂ ƒσя ωнαт уσυ αяє αη∂ тнє ρσѕιтιση уσυ нσℓ∂ ιη ѕσ¢ιєту! яємємвєя, ωнєη тнє gαмє σƒ ¢нєѕѕ ιѕ σνєя, вσтн кιηg αη∂ ραωηѕ gσ ιη ѕαмє вσχ! → ωнєη ρяσвℓємѕ αяє ѕσ вιg αη∂ уσυя ѕтяєηgтн ιѕ ησ ℓσηgєя єησυgн тσ ¢αяяу тнєм, ∂ση’т gιν υρ. ωнєяє уσυя ѕтяєηgтн єη∂ѕ, тнє gяα¢є σƒ gσ∂ вєgιηѕ ωιтн. → υ я тнσυѕαη∂ѕ σƒ мιℓєѕ αωαу ƒяσм мє, ѕтιℓℓ ι\'м ωαт¢нιηg υя єνєяу мσνємєηт ση 3 ∂郃т ¢нαηηєℓѕ: ρσgσ, ¢αятσση ηєтωσяк &αмρ; αηιмαℓ ρℓαηєт. тнηχ тσ мє∂ια.

→ 7 яυℓєѕ тσ вє нαρρу….. 1. ηєνєя нαтє….. 2. ∂ση’т ωσяяу….. 3. ℓινє ѕιмρℓє….. 4. єχρє¢т α ℓιттℓє….. 5. gινє α ℓσт….. 6. αℓωαуѕ ѕмιℓє….. 7. нανє α ρєяѕση ℓιкє мє ωнσ αℓωαуѕ яємємвєя уσυ ….. → тσ ѕєє ℓιgнт,ℓσσк αт ѕυη..тσ ѕєє ℓσνє ℓσσк αт мσση.. тσ ѕєє вєαυту,ℓσσк αт ηαтυяє..тσ ѕєє нσρє,ℓσσк αт ƒυтυяє.. вυт,тσ ѕєє αℓℓ σƒ тнιѕ,ℓσσк αт тнє мιяяσя….!!!!!! → тнє вιggєѕт муѕтєяу σƒ мαтнѕ: 1000ѕ σƒ уєαяѕ ραѕѕє∂ , мιℓℓισηѕ σƒ тнєσяємѕ ∂єяινє∂ , 100ѕ σƒ ƒσямυℓα мα∂є вυт ѕтιℓℓ…….. ‘χ‘ ιѕ υηкησωη!!!!!!! → ωнєη уσυ gινє уσυя нєαят ωнєη тιмє ¢σмєѕ ƒσя уσυ тσ gινє уσυя нєαят тσ ѕσмєσηє, мαкє ѕυяє уσυ ѕєℓє¢т ѕσмєσηє ωнσ ωιℓℓ ηєνєя вяєαк уσυя нєαят, вє¢αυѕє вяσкєη нєαятѕ нαѕ ηєνєя ѕραяє ραятѕ. ωяιтє ση вяι¢кѕ → ∂σ уσυ кησω тнαт мєη αη∂ ωσмєη αяє αηgєℓѕ ¢яєαтє∂ ωιтн σηℓу σηє ωιηg? αη∂ тнєу ηєє∂ тσ ємвяα¢є єα¢н σтнєя тσ вє αвℓє тσ ƒℓу… нσρє уσυ ¢αη ƒιη∂ уσυя αηgєℓ ωнσм уσυ ¢αη ƒℓу ωιтн ƒσяєνєя → тσ ℓινє α ℓιƒє ι ηєє∂ нєαятвєαт, 2 нανє нєαятвєαт ι ηєє∂ α нєαят, 2 нανє нєαят ι ηєє∂ нαρριηєѕѕ, тσ нανє нαρριηєѕѕ ι ηєє∂ α ƒяιєη∂, αη∂ 4 α ƒяιєη∂ ι ηєє∂ υ αℓωαуѕ → ι ѕмιℓє αт ωнσм ι ℓιкє ι ¢яу ƒσя ωнσм ι ¢αяє ι ѕнαяє ωιтн ωнσм ι ℓσνє ι ℓαυgн ωιтн ωнσм ι єηנσу, ι ѕмѕ σηℓу тσ тнσѕє ωнσм ι ηєνєя ωαηт тσ ℓσσѕє. → α вєαυтιƒυℓ тнσυgнт!! тнє ρєяѕση ωнσ ¢αη єχρℓαιη тнє мєαηιηg σƒ ¢σℓσя тσ α вℓιη∂ ¢αη єχρℓαιη αηутнιηg &αмρ; єνєяутнιηg ιη ℓιƒє! → ιƒ уσυ нανє α ѕмιℓє &αмρ; уσυ ∂ση’т υѕє ιт. ιт мєαηѕ уσυ нανє αη α¢¢συηт σƒ мιℓℓιση ∂σℓℓαяѕ ιη вαηк вυт уσυ нανє ησ ¢нє¢к вσσк. → ωєℓℓ ωιѕнєя ιѕ ησт ωнσ мєєтѕ уσυ єνєяу∂αу &αмρ; тαℓк тσ уσυ єνєяу∂αу. ωєℓℓ ωιѕнєя ιѕ σηє ωнσ мαу σя мαу ησт мєєт уσυ вυт αℓωαуѕ тнιηк σƒ уσυ &αмρ; уσυя нαρριηєѕ. → σηє ∂αу υ мαу αѕк мє: ωнαт ιѕ мσяє ιмρσятαηт тσ уσυ, мє σя уσυя ℓιƒє? ι ωιℓℓ ѕαу: му ℓιƒє… уσυ ωιℓℓ ωαℓк αωαу ƒяσм мє ωιтнσυт кησωιηg тнαт υ я му ℓιƒє! → ωнєη ѕσмєσηє нυятѕ уσυ αη∂ уσυ ∂ι∂η’т нυят вα¢к ωнєη ѕσмєσηє ѕнσυтѕ αт уσυ αη∂ уσυ ∂ι∂η’т ѕнσυт вα¢к вυт ωнєη ѕσмєσηє ηєє∂ѕ уσυ уσυ αℓωαуѕ ¢σмє вα¢к → α вυѕу ℓιƒє мαкєѕ ρяαуєяѕ нαя∂єя, вυт ρяαуєяѕ мαкє α нαя∂ αη∂ вυѕу ℓιƒє єαѕιєя. ѕσ αℓωαуѕ кєєρ ρяαуιηg αη∂ яємємвєя мє ιη уσυя ρяαуєяѕ. → ℓιƒє ιѕ 4 ℓινιηg, ι ℓινє 4 υ. ѕσηgѕ я 4 ѕιηgιηg, ι ѕιηg 4 υ. ℓσνє ιѕ 4 ¢αяιηg, ι ¢αяє 4 υ. αηgєℓѕ я 4 кєєριηg, ¢αη ι кєєρ υ…? → ѕα¢яιƒι¢є ιѕ gяєαтєя тнαη ℓσνє. ¢нαяα¢тєя ιѕ gяєαтєя тнαη вєαυту. нυмαηιту ιѕ gяєαтєя тнαη ωєαℓтн. вυт ησтнιηg ιѕ gяєαтєя тнαη gσσ∂ яєℓαтισηѕ. → нαρριєѕт ρєσρℓє ∂ση’т нανє “єνєяу тнιηg вєѕт” ιη ℓιƒє. тнєу נυѕт мαкє тнє “вєѕт σƒ єνєяу тнιηg” тнαт ℓιƒє вяιηgѕ тнєιя ωαу!! ѕтαу нαρρу!! → ι нανє ℓιкє∂ мαηу вυт ℓσνє∂ νєяу ƒєω. уєт ησ-σηє нαѕ вєєη αѕ ѕωєєт αѕ υ. ι ωσυℓ∂ ѕтαη∂ αη∂ ωαιт ιη тнє ωσяℓ∂ѕ ℓσηgєѕт qυєυє. נυѕт ƒσя тнє ρℓєαѕυяє σƒ α мσмєηт ωιтн υ. → ρєяƒє¢тιση ιѕ ιмρσѕѕιвℓє тσ вє α¢нιєνє∂ ¢σмρℓєтєℓу ву αηуσηє ιη тнιѕ ωσяℓ∂. вт ιƒ уσυ кєєρ ¢нαѕιηg ρєяƒє¢тιση, ѕσмєωнєяє ση тнє ωαу уσυ мαу ¢αт¢н єχ¢єℓℓєη¢є! → ηєνєя тнιηк мσяє αвσυт ραѕт, ιт вяιηgѕ тєαяѕ ∂ση’т тнιηк мσяє αвσυт ƒυтυяє, ιт вяιηgѕ ƒєαяѕ тнιηк мσяє αвσυт мє ωнι¢н αℓωαуѕ вяιηgѕ ¢нєєяѕ. → тнєяє я ѕσмє σƒ тнє яσмαηтι¢ ¢συηтяιєѕ ιη тнє ωσяℓ∂, “н.σ.ℓ.ℓ.α.η.∂” нσρ συя ℓσνє ℓαѕт αη∂ ηєνєя ∂ιєѕ… “ι.т.α.ℓ.у” ι тяυѕт αη∂ ℓσνє уσυ… “ℓ.ι.в.у.α” ℓσνє ιѕ вєαυтιƒυℓ уσυ αℓѕσ… αη∂ тнιѕ ιѕ му ƒανσυяιтє…. “ƒ.я.α.η.¢.є” ƒяιєη∂ѕнιρ яємαιηѕ αη∂ ηєνєя ¢αη єη∂… → ѕσмє ƒяιєη∂ѕ ƒσяgєт ѕσмє мσνє αωαу ѕσмє кєєρ ѕιℓєηт ѕσмє נυѕт ¢нαηgє вυт ι’м ησт 1 σƒ тнєм. ι’м нєяє נυѕт 4 тωσ мσмєηтѕ .. ησω &αмρ; 4єνєя…!!:) → тιρѕ тσ вєαт тнє ѕυммєя 1- ∂яιηк ℓσт σƒ ƒяєѕн ωαтєя 2- ¢σνєя уσυя нєα∂ ωнєη συтѕι∂є 3- єαт νєgєтαвℓєѕ вυт мσѕт ιмρσятαηт 4- мєѕѕαgє мє ∂αιℓу в¢σz ι м ѕσ ¢σσσℓ..:-) → ι ¢συℓ∂ ƒιℓℓ α 1000 ραgєѕ тєℓℓιηg υ нσω ι ƒєєℓ, αη∂ ѕтιℓℓ υ ωσυℓ∂ ησт υη∂єяѕтαη∂.. ѕσ ησω ι ℓєανє ω/σ α ѕσυη∂, єχ¢єρт му нєαят ѕнαттєяιηg αѕ ιт нιтѕ тнє gяσυη∂. → ∂ση’т вє ∂ιѕαρρσιηтє∂ ιƒ тнє ωσяℓ∂ яєƒυѕєѕ тσ нєℓρ уσυ. яємємвєя ∂є ωσя∂ѕ σƒ єιηѕтєιη: “ι м тнαηкƒυℓ тσ αℓℓ тнσѕє ωнσ ѕαι∂ ησ тσ мє. ιтѕ в¢σz σƒ тнм, ι ∂ι∂ ιт муѕєℓƒ.” → ωнєη уσυ’яє αηgяу αт ѕσмєσηє αη∂ gєт ιяяιтαтє∂ тιмє тσ тιмє вυт уσυ ѕтιℓℓ ¢αη’т ℓινє ωιтнσυт нιм/нєя тнєη ιт’ѕ тяυє яєℓαтιση”..! → ιƒ тιмє ∂σєѕη’т ωαιт ƒσя уσυ, ∂ση’т ωσяяу! נυѕт яємσνє тнє вαттєяу ƒяσм тнє ¢ℓσ¢к αη∂ єηנσу ℓιƒє…! gяєαт ρєσρℓє gяєαт тнσυgнтѕ → αм ι ¢υтє? тєѕт ¢αℓℓ, ιƒ ι м ¢υтє мιѕѕ ¢αℓℓ, ιƒ ι м gσяgєσυѕ тєχт вα¢к ιƒ ι м ρяєтту тєχт α נσкє ιƒ ι м ¢нαямιηg נυѕт ιgησяє ιƒ υ я נєαℓσυѕ → тнιѕ ¢υяισυѕ gяєєη ωσяℓ∂ gινє мє ѕρℓιт ѕє¢ση∂ ƒσя ℓσνє тнє ωαу ι ℓινє тнє ωαу ι яєѕρє¢т ησ σηє ¢αη тнιηк ησ σηє ¢αη gινє му ƒєєℓιηgѕ αяє ηєω нαя∂ ¢σяє∂ ƒσя мє ωσяℓ∂ ιѕ ησ мσяє → ℓιƒє ιѕ α נσυяηєу тнαт ιѕ ησт мєαηт тσ вє мα∂є ѕαƒєℓу. ι ωαηт тσ ℓινє му ℓιƒє ιη α ωαу тнαт ωнєη ι gєт яєαℓℓу σℓ∂, ι ℓσσк вα¢к αт му ℓιƒє αη∂ ѕαу: ααн ι ℓινє∂ ιт, ησт ѕυяνινє∂ ιт.

Alphonse "At my parents house, my nephew told my Mom, 'When I lived here before, my name was Alphonse, and I was bigger than you.' My stepdad just kind of blinked and said, 'Hmm, that was my grandfather's name, but we don't talk about him.'"

A Curious Warning • March 6 2015 • RusticEyesore Last night, as I was sitting in my living room and watching a little TV before bed, I heard a strange noise. It was a slow, drawn out scraping across the hardwood floor. Confused, I searched for the source of the sound; and I found it immediately. Someone had a slipped a small, folded note under the door. "What the..?" More curious than anything, I approached the note slowly. I knelt down cautiously and picked up the strange paper. On it were only five words, scrawled on in a crude, messy fashion: "Get out. He is coming." I didn't pause to consider the meaning of the note, however, as I immediately realized there was something very, very wrong with this situation: The note had come from under the closet door.

████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ██████▓▓▓███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████▓▓▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓█ ███▓▓███▓█▓█▓▓█▓▓▓██████████▓██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▓██████████████▒▓▓▓█ ██████████▓██▓▒▒▓▓▓████████▒▒▓██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓██ █████████████▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▓█▓▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓████▓▓▓▒▒▒▒█████████████████████████▓█████████████████████████▓▒▓█████▒▒▒▒▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓██ ██████████████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▒▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▓▒▓▓████▒▒▒▒▒▓██████████████████████████▓▓█████████████████████████▓▓▓███▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒██ ███████████▓███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█████▓▒▒▒███████████████████████████▓▓▓▓▓██████████████████████████████▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▓████ ██████████▒▒██▓▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓██████▒▒█████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▓██████████████████████████████▒▒▓▒▒▒▓▒▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▓██ █████████▓▒▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█████████████████████▓▓██████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█████████▓▓▓▒▒▒▓███████████▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▒▒▓▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓██ █████████▓▓▒▓▓▒▒▓▓▓▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███████████▓██▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▒▓█▒▒▒▓▓██ ███████▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▒▒▒▓▒▒▒█████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████▓▓█████▓▒▓▓███▓▓▒▒▓▒▓▓▓▓███ ████▓▒▒█▓███▓▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▓▓███████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████▒▒▓▒▒▓██▓▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▓████ ████▒▒█████████▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▒▓██▓▒▒█▓▒▓▒▒▓██████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█████▒▒▒▓▒▒▓███████▒██▓███ ████▒▓▓▓▓█▓███▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓▒▒▓▓█▒▒▒███████████████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█████▒▒▓▓▒▒████████▓▓█▓▓██ █▓▓█▓▒▓▓██████▓▓▓▒▒▓▒▒▒█▓▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▓▒▒▒█▓███▓▒▒███████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓███▒▓▒▓▓▓█████████▒▓█▓▒█ ▓▓▓▓▒▓▓██████▓▒▓▒▒▓▓▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▒▒▓▓██▓▒▓▒▒▓█████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▒▒▒▒▒▓███▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓██████████▒▒██▒▓ ▒▒▓▒▓▒▒▒▓███▓▓▒▓▓▓▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▓████▓█▓▒▒█████████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█████████████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓██████████████▒▓██▒ ▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒███▓▒▒▒▒▓██▓▓▓▓████▓█▓▒▒▓█████▓██████████████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█▓▓▓████▓▓▓███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒████████████████▓▒▓█▓ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██▓▒▒▒▒███████▓▒▓▓██████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒███▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██████████████████▓▒██ ████▓▓▓████▓▓██████████▒▓▓▓████████▓▓█████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓████▓████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓███████████████████▓██ ████████████████████████▓▓▓██████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓██▓█▓█▓▓███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒██████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓█▓▓▓██▓▓█▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓█████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓██▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓█████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓█▓█▒▓▓▓▓███▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▓█▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓███▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓█████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▓█████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▒▒▒▒▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓█▓▒▓▓▓█████████████████████████ ███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓████████████████████████████ ██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█████████████████████████████ █████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▓████████████████████████████ █████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▓▒▓▓██▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▒▒▒▒▒▒▓▓▓▓████▓▓▓▓▒▓▓███████████████████████████ █████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████▓▓▒▒▓██████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████

¢нσ¢σℓαтє (CHOCOLATE!!!!! :chocolate_bar: :chocolate_bar: )ಥ‿ಥ ѕρσиgєвσв!!! ⓅⓁⒶⓃⓀⓉⓄⓃ ѕρσиgєвσв:| ( • )(• ) | ραтяι¢к: / ( • )(• ) \ ѕqυι∂ωαя∂: ( (•)(•) ) ρℓαиктσи: | (•) |

r/shortscarystories 24 days ago GuyAwks Forget Me Anniversary Not What kind of husband goes and forgets an anniversary? And not just any anniversary. Our 10 year anniversary. I didn’t want to have to remind Stephen about it. I wanted him to remember it on his own, to show me he cared about our partnership. But lo and behold, come morning when I kíss him goodbye for work and asked if he’d planned anything for today—he hadn’t. He just read his newspaper like it was any other day, with no hint of reaction. Watching him drive off with no acknowledgement of today’s occasion, I felt so disappointed. I even pulled out my phone to call up our marriage counselor, Dr Faulkner, to talk through my feelings and book an appointment for us. But, just my luck, he wasn’t picking up. So instead, I swallow my discontent and got our two kids ready for school. All throughout doing my daily household chores, I held out hope that Stephen might ring me to wish me, or have a bouquet delivered, or even pop home to whisk me off for a fancy lunch. Anything to show he’d suddenly remembered our special day was a decade ago. But the significance of March 2nd clearly meant nothing to him, as no such gesture came. By the time Stephen got home from the office late in the evening, I couldn’t hide my annoyance anymore. Not wanting to even be arоund him, I stormed out to my car in the garage to drive off and get some space. That’s when I heard the muffled sound coming from the trunk. Curious, I cranked open the boot to see…Dr Faulker—bound, gagged and terrıfıed. “Happy anniversary, honey” purred Stephen’s voıce from behind me. I whirled around, my heart aflutter and a wıde, joyful smıle on my face. “Oh Stephen, you did remember! And with a personal touch, you shouldn’t have.” Swooning, I ripped the gag off our helpless victim. “Stephen, Janice…p-please let me go!” Dr Faulkner gasped in sweaty confusion. “What are you doing?!” “He’s been in there since yesterday,” Stephen informed me. “I knew you’d find your anniversary gift eventually.” “Anniversary?!” yelped Dr Faulkner. “I-isn’t your wedding anniversary in November!?” To this we just laughed, plunging our kn1ves into him repeatedly—like we had with so many ınnocent before. What better way to celebrate the anniversary of the first time we mvrdered someone?

ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴼʰ! ᴼʰ! ᴬʰʰ! [ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃˡˡ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶠᶠⁱᶜᵉ] ᴴᵉʸ⸴ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⸴ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵉᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᴷʳᵃᵇᵇʸ ᴾᵃᵗᵗʸ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ? [ˡⁱᶠᵗˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉˢᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈʳᵒᵖˢ ⁱᵗ] ᴼʰʰ! [ᵖᵘˡˡˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳⁿᵉᵃᵗʰ] ᴵ ᵖᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᶜⁱʳᶜᵘˡᵃʳ ᶠⁱˡᵉ ᶜᵃᵇⁱⁿᵉᵗ‧ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⠘ ᵀʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵃ ᵗʳᵃˢʰ ᶜᵃⁿ⸴ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿⁱᵗʷⁱᵗ‧ [ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱᵗᵉᵐ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉʳ ʷʰⁱˡᵉ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ˢⁱᵗˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ˢᶜᵃʳᵉᵈ] ᵀʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ?! [ᶜᵘᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ ᵒᵘᵗˢⁱᵈᵉ] ᶠᵃᶜᵉ ⁱᵗ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ‧ [ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵗʳᵃˢʰ ᵗʰʳᵒʷⁿ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ] ᵀʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ— ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵃʸ ⁱᵗ! ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⠘ ᴵˢ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ [ᵗᵉᵃʳʸ⁻ᵉʸᵉᵈ] ᴼʰ⸴ ᴵ ᵃˢᵏᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ⁱᵗ‧‧‧ [ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ ᵃ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ] ᵂʰʸ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ? ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⠘ [ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ] ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ⠘ ᴬʰʰ! [ᶠᵃˡˡˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ; ʰᵉ ᵍᵃˢᵖˢ] ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ʷᵉ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵈᵒ? ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ⠘ [ᵍʳᵃᵇˢ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰᵉˢ ⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱᵐ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᵖᵃᵖᵉʳ ᵇᵃᵍ‧] ᴼᵏᵃʸ‧ ᴬˡˡ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ‧ ᵂᵉ'ˡˡ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵖʳᵉᵗᵉⁿᵈ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ'ˢ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ‧ ᵀʰᵉⁿ ʷᵉ'ˡˡ ˢᵗᵉᵃˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵒʳᵐᵘˡᵃ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ! ʸᵉᵃʰ!

☢;;❝ВUТ ТНEɴ YOU ЅНOWED МE ҒRΙEɴDЅНΙP! ТНΑТ'Ѕ ΑLL Ι REΑLLY WΑɴТED!❞ ⁽ ˢᵖᵒᶰᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ⁾