ᴮᴵᴿᵀᴴᴰᴬʸ ᶜᴬᴺᴰᴸᴱᔆ ᵇʸ ʳᵉᵈᵈⁱᵗ ᵘˢᵉʳ ᶻᵉⁿʳʸʰᵃᵒ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃʳᵈᵉˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇˡᵒʷ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱᶠᵗᵉᵉⁿ ᶠˡⁱᶜᵏᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵃⁿᵈˡᵉˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ʰᵘᶠᶠᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵘᶠᶠᵉᵈ‧‧‧ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒ ᵃᵛᵃⁱˡ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵍˡᵃⁿᶜᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃᵈ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵗ ʰᵒᵘʳˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ᶜᵃᵏᵉ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉʳ ᵉˣᵖʳᵉˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵘⁿᵇᵉᵃʳᵃᵇˡʸ ᵍᵘⁱˡᵗʸ‧ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ'ˢ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ˢᵗᵃʳᵉᵈ ˢᵃᵈˡʸ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵘⁿʸⁱᵉˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᶠˡᵃᵐᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᶠᵃˡᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ'ˢ ᶠᵉᵉᵇˡᵉ ᵃᵗᵗᵉᵐᵖᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᔆʰᵉ ᵇˡⁱⁿᵏᵉᵈ ᵃ ᶠᵉʷ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ʰᵉʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ‧ ᵂʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ "ᴴᵃᵖᵖʸ ᴮⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ⸴" ˢʰᵉ ᵇˡᵉʷ ᵃ ᵍᵘˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ʷⁱⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃⁿᶜⁱⁿᵍ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗˢ ᵈⁱˢˢⁱᵖᵃᵗᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵘᶠᶠˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵐᵒᵏᵉ‧ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ ʷʰʸ ʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ‧ ᴵᵗ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ʸᵉᵃʳ; ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵇᵃᵏᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵉᶜᵗ ᶜᵃᵏᵉ⸴ ʰᵉ ᶠᵃⁱˡᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇˡᵒʷ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿᵈˡᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵉ ᶜʳⁱᵉˢ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶜʰᵃⁿᵍᵉᵈ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵘᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵃⁿᵈˡᵉˢ‧ ᵀⁱᵐᵐʸ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ʰᵘᵍ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ‧‧‧ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗᵒ ⁿᵒ ᵃᵛᵃⁱˡ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵐᵉʳᵉˡʸ ᵈʳⁱᶠᵗᵉᵈ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰᵉʳ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵉⁱᵗʰᵉʳ‧

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/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‧"

My family Story by Pansyk I died eight years ago. It wasn’t particularly tragic. Or unusual. Just a car accident. I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wife was in labor, and there was black ice on the road. He lost control of the car and I lost my life. It's not his fault. I know that. I’m not cruel. I am not vengeful. If anything, I’m the opposite.. ↓Keep reading ↓ 31ST OCT 2020 u/Pansyk I don’t blame the man who hit me. He was speeding because his wi҉fé was in labour, and lost control of the car and I lost my lįfe. It's not his fault. I am not vengeful. I’m the opposite. You see, I don’t have any family left and I had lost my few friends around that time. When it was time for my funeral, the only people who came was my boss and the family of the man who kılled me. The wi҉fé held her newborn daughter Lily close to her. I hated my boss, and the cemetery was awfully lonely, so I followed the family home. Lily may as well have been my own flesh and bľood. She was sweet, and bright, and oh so very small. She had trouble sleeping if someone wasn’t rocking her crib and her parents were so tired. After they put her to bed, it was easy for me to rock her crib for her. I didn’t get tired. I could help her. As the years passed, Jack and Lori realised that they weren’t alone in the house. It didn’t take long from there to make a connection between my funeral and when I had showed up. And I’d never been malevolent, so they weren’t afraid or angry. They started to burn candles on the anniversary of my dEath day. They left an empty chair for meals and holidays. I really felt like… A member of the family. Someone is trying to force the door. Its Lori’s ex. He’s obsessive. He’s angry. He’s going to hur͘t the family. My family. The thing about ghosts, is that the more offerings you get, the stronger you become. Id been enjoying candles, trinkets, and even the occasional food item for the past five years. I was strong from that. The kn1fe feels warm in my hand. A shock of heat against the ice of my skin. Lori, Jack, and Lily are my family. I care about them. And they’re not gonna join me yet.

~ -creepypastastories- Monsters and Ghosts Monsters are real, also ghosts They live inside us And sometimes they win

r/shortscarystories 13 hr. ago S_G_Woodhouse I think I'm losing my head I was driving home after a long day at work. I blinked, and the next thing I knew, I was at home having dinner with my wife and 2 daughters. "What's wrong honey" she asked me. "I don't know. I just feel like I've forgotten something" I replied, confused. Forgot something? It was much worse than that, I had no memory of going home. I reassured her and spent the rest of the evening as normal, re-watching one of my favorite movies. Eventually, I dozed off. I dreamt strange things. I saw myself, having a picnic with my parents. Except they weren't smiling and happy like I remembered them. Instead, they were sitting on the picnic blanket, staring into space, their faces closed and expressionless. No matter how much I shouted at them in my daze, I couldn't see any life left in them; it was as if they were there, without being there. Detached. I woke up in my bed, alone. I looked all over the house, but not only was my wife gone, so were my children. My cell phone line was dead, no service. I went outside to get my car and drive to work, thinking I'd try to call my wife a little later. There was no one on the road but me. It was as if the whole Earth had emptied out. I'd dismissed my detachment last night, but I was seriously beginning to wonder if I was losing my mind. I was lost. I decided to go to my work to see if anyone was still in town, if a national evacuation drill was underway and could explain everything. Once there, I rushed back into the building, hoping to find someone who could explain what was going on. And when I opened the door, I was relieved to see that all my colleagues were there. At last, I could find out what was going on. I walked over to a colleague who over the years had become my best friend. "Hey, what's going on? My family's disappeared and there's nobody left in town," I asked him. He didn't answer. I stepped forward to face him, and discovered to my horror that his face and expression were detached exactly the same as my parents' in my dream. It couldn't be, was I trapped in a nightmare? I tried to talk to everyone, but they were all in the same state. My head hurt, my eyes hurt. I saw lights, and sounds filled my ears even though there was nothing here. Nothing alive. My vision began to narrow. Sounds began to blend together. Blackness. Emptiness. And finally, words I didn't have time to understand came to me for the last time. "The driver is dead, his head was torn off by the impact."

1/2 MOVING ON ➪ғᴇᴀʀ ᴏғ ᴅʏɪɴɢ. "Honey, you forgot your phone!" Karen yelled. The door slammed shut. Karen sighed, setting the phone down on the kitchen counter. Plankton had been more obsessed with his latest scheme than usual these past few days, and it was starting to wear on her. Her thoughts drifted to the time before they were married, when his ambition had been endearing, not exhausting. They had met in college, where Plankton's mind for science had been as vast as the ocean. Back then, his inventions had been quirky little gadgets that never quite worked out as planned. But now, as he chased after Mr. Krabs' secret recipe, his obsession had become all-consuming.. Suddenly, Karen saw a flash of light from the direction of the Krusty Krab, she dashed out the door, and she raced to the chaos, and as she approached, she saw the exploding contraption hit his head. "Plankton!" she screamed, but it was too late. He lay motionless as she sprinted, fear coiling around her. She knelt beside his tiny frame, her hands shaking as she felt for a pulse. The Krabby Patty formula could wait. Her husband's life couldn't. With trembling fingers, she dialed the emergency number, her voice shaky as she relayed the situation. Sirens grew louder, piercing the stillness of the night. When the medics arrived, they worked swiftly, their movements a blur of efficiency. Karen hovered nearby, her screen never leaving her husband's face. They loaded him onto the stretcher, Karen going in with him. The hospital was a stark contrast to the colorful underwater world she knew. The doctor's expression was grave as he explained that Plankton was in a coma. "We're doing everything we can," he assured her, but his words offered little comfort. Karen sat by Plankton's bed, her hand tightly gripping his. The machine beside them beeped a steady rhythm, a grim reminder of his condition. The door to the room squeaked open, and in waddled SpongeBob Square Pants, looking out of place in the stiff chair. "Hi, Karen," he said softly, his eyes immediately finding Plankton's lifeless form. Karen looked up, the tears still fresh on her screen. "Oh, Sponge Bob, thank you for coming," she managed. He nodded, his usual cheerfulness replaced by a look of genuine concern. "I heard about the accident," he said. "Just keep him company," she replied, her voice weak. Sponge Bob nodded solemnly, his gaze shifting back to Plankton. He approached the bedside, the squeak of his shoes echoing. He pulled up a chair and sat down, twirling his hat nervously. It was strange to see the normally energetic Plankton so still, so small in the face of something bigger than his own ambition. Then, tentatively, Sponge Bob began to speak. "You know, Plankton," he started, his voice barely a whisper, "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be here without you causing trouble. You've been a real thorn in Mr. Krabs' side, but you've also been a part of our lives for so long. In a weird way, I guess you're like family." He leaned closer, his spongy hand reaching out to squeeze Plankton's tiny one. "And families stick together, even when things are tough." He took his hat and laid it on the bedside table. Karen watched, surprised by the tenderness in Sponge Bob's voice. Despite their rivalry, there was a bond between them that she had never fully understood. Perhaps it was born from the years of adversity, a shared history that transcended good and bad. "I know you're in there, Plankton," Sponge Bob continued, his voice a mix of hope and sadness. "You're the most stubborn person I've ever met. I can't imagine you giving up now." He swallowed hard, his eyes misting over. "You've got to pull through this, buddy." The room grew quiet again, save for the rhythmic beeping of the machine. Karen felt a warmth spread through her, despite the coldness of the room. Sponge Bob's words had touched her in a way she didn't expect. Their friendship, built on a foundation of constant conflict, was somehow stronger than she had ever realized. Then Mr. Krabs entered. "Karen, hey," he began, his voice cracking with emotion. "How's he doing?" Karen looked up from her vigil. "No change," she replied, her voice flat. Mr. Krabs shuffled over, his eyes flicking from the unmoving Plankton to the worried look on Sponge Bob. He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "I just wanted to, you know, check on him," he said awkwardly. Sponge Bob nodded, his grip on Plankton's hand tightening. "We're all here for him," he said, his voice firm with resolve. Mr. Krabs hovered by. "I never thought I'd say this," he murmured, "but I don't want to lose him either." The words were a surprise to him, and also to Karen. The weight of their shared history sat heavily in the room, a silent acknowledgment of the battles they all endured. SpongeBob nodded, his expression earnest. "We all have our moments," he said. "But it's what we do when things get tough that really counts." He leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving Plankton's face. "Remember that time you accidentally turned us into babies?" A faint smile ghosted his lips at the memory. "We all were so tiny, I could've swallowed you whole." He chuckled, a sound that was unfamiliar in the somber room. "But I didn't. Because deep down, I knew you had more to give to this world than just being a rival." Mr. Krabs chuckled too, the tension in his eyes easing. "Aye, that was a wild ride, all right," he said, his gruffness softening. Karen couldn't help but smile at the memory, wiping a fresh tear from her screen. "You two have had quite the history," she said, her voice filled with wonder. Sponge Bob nodded. "Yeah, more adventures than I can count." He paused, his smile fading. "But none of them have ever made me feel like this." He took a deep breath, his words coming out in a rush. "Plankton, if you can hear me, you need to wake up. Your Chum Bucket's not going to run itself, and I can't eat Krabby Patties without someone to compete with." Mr. Krabs grunted in agreement, his eyes never leaving Plankton's still form. "Yeah, and who's going to challenge me for the title of best burger in town if you're not around to stir the pot?" They shared a moment of quiet laughter, the kind that comes from a place deep within, where memories are etched. It was a strange sight: the sworn enemies, now united by a shared love for the pint-sized that was more than just a rival. It's midnight when he's no longer in a coma. Right at midnight, was when their waiting would come to an end, and everything's changed.. Plankton's eye fluttered open, his vision blurry. He tried to sit up. He felt weightless. Karen and Sponge Bob gasped. Mr. Krabs' turned to emit a choking cough. They stared at the empty space where Plankton's body still lays. "What's going on?" Plankton's voice was faint, echoing around the room. "Karen?" But they seemed to ignore him. The doctor sighed. Karen and Sponge Bob exchanged a hopeful glance. "Plankton?" she whispered, leaning in. "Can you hear me?" Plankton's eye searched the room, confused. "I'm right here," he said, his voice growing stronger, but still not reaching them. "Ma'am," the doctor says, "I know it's hard but, you can leave the hospital whenever you're ready." Karen nodded, her screen still fixed on Plankton's body lying on the bed. The beeping machine had stopped. "What?" Plankton's voice grew desperate, floating above the room. "Why aren't you guys listening?" Karen's gaze remained fixed on his lifeless body, the reality of the situation setting in. "Oh dear Neptune," she whispered, her hand trembling as it hovered over his chest. "He's...he's..." Sponge Bob's eyes widened in realization as he cried. Mr. Krabs stumbled back, his claws over his mouth, his eyes bulging in shock. "No, no, no," he murmured, his voice a whispered denial. The doctor looked from the machines to the ceiling, his eyes glassy. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice hollow. "We did all we could." Karen felt the world collapse around her, her body heavy with the weight of her loss. Plankton's voice grew faint, his words lost in the air like a ghostly echo. Sponge Bob's sobs filled the room. Plankton's spirit hovered above his body, his mind racing. "What happened?" he asked, his voice now a mere wisp of what it had once been. "Can one of you just explain to..." But his words trailed off as he saw the tears on Karen's screen, the shock on Mr. Krabs' face, and the sadness etched into Sponge Bob's features. "What's going on?" he asked, his voice barely a murmur. "Why are you all so upset? My machine exploded but now I'm awake!" It was as if there was a barrier between them that muted his voice and kept him from touching the world. He waved his arms frantically, trying to get their attention. "I'm right here," he whispered, his voice growing louder with each desperate attempt. But the only response was the sadness that hung in the air, thick and palpable. The doctor's expression remained steady, his gaze flicking from the machines to Plankton's body, then back to Karen. "Ma'am," he said gently, "you should go home. Rest." But Karen couldn't tear her screen away from Plankton's lifeless body. "Karen?" Plankton called out. "What's happening?" But Karen remained silent as she stared at his still form. Sponge Bob was crying openly now, his body heaving with sobs. Mr. Krabs was leaning against the wall. "What's going on?" he asked again, his voice desperate. "Why can't they see me?" He looked around the room. "Karen," he shouted, his voice echoing through the emptiness. But she just sat there. "Guys, I'm right here!" Plankton's voice was now a desperate shout, but it was as if he didn't exist.

2/2 MOVING ON ➪ғᴇᴀʀ ᴏғ ᴅʏɪɴɢ. Mr. Krabs wiped his eyes with a handkerchief, his voice shaking. "I'm so sorry, Karen," he said, his words a mix of sadness and regret. Karen nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up to see Sponge Bob's wet eyes. "We're all here for you," he murmured, his voice soothing despite the pain. Plankton watched as the world around him shifted, his friends' sorrow a stark contrast to his own confusion but failing to penetrate their grief. He follows Karen back home. "You can't ignore me for..." He tries to argue, but she doesn't flinch. He's invisible. It's like he's not even there. He follows her through the desolate streets of Bikini Bottom, his voice trailing behind her like a forgotten thought. "Karen, stop!" he cries, but she doesn't hear him as she goes into the Chum Bucket. Spot, his amoeba puppy, barks as they come in. "Oh, Spot," Karen says sadly, her voice heavy with a grief Plankton can't fathom. Spot looks around, sensing his master, tail wagging. "Spot, boy," Plankton calls out. He goes to sniff his owner right where he's standing. The puppy's nose twitches. "Spot, it's me," Plankton whispers, his voice now a mere wisp. The amoeba wags his tail. But Spot doesn't jump up to lick his face like he always does. Plankton watches as Karen moves about the room without a glance. He follows her, his spirit trailing behind her. "Look," he says, his voice bouncing off the glass beakers and unused gadgets. But she simply picks up a half-finished experiment, her screen glazed over with unshed tears. Plankton's inventions are scattered across the floor. "Karen, see this," he says, trying to show her his latest gizmo. But she just steps over them. "Karen!" he yells, his voice bouncing off the walls. But she doesn't acknowledge him, her screen fixed on a photo of them from their wedding. "What's happening?" he whispers, his voice trembling. "Why can't she see me?" He watches her, his mind racing with possibilities. "Karen, sweetie," he says, his voice desperate, "It's me, Plankton. Your husband." But she just keeps moving, her actions a painful ballet of loss. "Karen," he pleads, his voice cracking. "Look at me." He waves his hands wildly in front of her, but she doesn't flinch. It's like he's not even there. "Karen, can you hear me?" Plankton shouts, his voice bouncing around the room, but it's as if he's speaking into a void. He follows her into the living room, where she slumps onto the couch, her body wracked with sobs. "What's the matter?" he asks, his voice now a mere echo of his former self. But Karen doesn't respond, doesn't even look up. Plankton paces the room, trying to make sense of this. "Karen," he says again. But she turns her attention to Spot. "I don't know how to tell you," she whispers with tears. Plankton stops in his tracks. "What do you mean?" he asks, but she doesn't hear him. He backs up, Spot following him. "Spot," Karen calls. The puppy wags his tail, looking between Plankton and Karen. Plankton feels a pang of hope. "Come here, boy," he says, his voice desperate. But Spot just sits there, staring at Karen, tail thumping the floor. Plankton's voice cracks. "Why won't anyone listen to me?" he cries out. "Spot," Karen repeats, her voice broken. "I need to tell you something. Your daddy... isn't coming back. Plankton's not coming home." "What are you talking about?" he chokes out, his voice echoing in his own mind. "I'm right here!" But Spot's eye remains, his tail wagging slightly, his expression hopeful. Plankton watches as she picks him up, cradling him in her arms. "He's always been there for us," she says, her voice cracking. "But now, it's just you and me." Plankton's spirit feels a chill run through him. "What do you mean?" he asks, his voice now a faint whisper. He moves to his chair, and Spot leapt out of Karen's grasp as he follows Plankton. Spot jumps onto the chair, his tail wagging. Plankton desperately tries to pet him, but his hand goes right through. "Spot," he says, his voice barely audible. "Spot, I'm here." The amoeba puppy tilts his head, his eye searching. Plankton can almost feel the warmth of his body, but his touch is met with only cold emptiness. "Spot, please," he whispers, his eye filling with tears that won't fall in his new ethereal form. Karen looks at Spot. "You're going to have to be strong," she says, her voice thick with unshed tears. "Daddy's not coming back." Plankton's spirit recoils at the words, his mind racing. "What do you mean?" he asks again, his voice now a desperate whisper. "I'm right here!" But Karen's gaze fixed on Spot. Plankton's voice is lost in the abyss of his own disbelief. "Karen," he whispers, his voice now a mere echo in the silence of the room. "What are you saying?" He sits down in the chair, Spot watching him intently. Karen looks confused at Spot. "It's ok, buddy," she says. "Daddy loved us very much, but now he's gone." Plankton's mind reels. "What do you mean 'gone'?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm right here!" Karen doesn't react to his desperate pleas. She just sits there, watching Spot. Plankton tries again, his voice now a mere echo of what it once was. "Karen," he calls out, his desperation palpable. "Can you hear me?" But she's lost in her own world of pain. At least Spot recognizes him. "Spot," Karen says. "What are you staring at?" Plankton's spirit feels like it's going to shatter. "It's me!" he shouts, his voice bouncing off the walls without reaching her. He waves his arms wildly, but she doesn't flinch. It's as if he's invisible, not even there. He watches as she moves through their home, her actions muted by his inability to interact. "Why can't you see me?" he whimpers, his voice lost in the void. Plankton's spirit follows her, his desperation growing with each ignored plea. "You ok, Karen?" he asks, his voice unheard. Karen doesn't respond, lost in thought. "Karen," Plankton calls again, his voice growing weaker. "I can see you, why can't you see me?" Karen's going through the motions of a life without him. The sound of her sobs haunts him, echoing through his invisible existence. "Well, I guess I can watch some soap operas since he's not around to complain." She says with forced laughter through her tears. Plankton watches her. She's moving on, without even realizing he's right beside her. She doesn't even look up from the TV! He stands in front of the TV but she doesn't flinch. He's getting mad now. "Forget the TV!" He says, trying to cause a ruckus by jumping onto it. But Plankton's now in the TV as it cuts to static. He's trapped in the flickering lights, his tiny frame distorting on the screen. "Karen!" He yells, his voice now a part of the static. "What's up with the TV?" Karen says. "I can't get it to..." But her words are lost to Plankton, now in the static, his spirit pushing against the unseen barrier. "Hey!" he shouts, his voice distorting with the fuzz of the television, banging it audibly. Karen hears the banging as the TV shakes. "What's going on?" she asks, her screen a mix of fear and confusion. Plankton's spirit is desperate, his voice now a part of the static, his form a flickering shadow on the TV screen. "Karen!" he cries, his words lost in the fuzzy chaos. Karen jumps at the sound of her deceased husband's distorted voice. "Was that... PLANKTON?" Plankton's spirit, still trapped in the TV, nods vigorously. "Yes, yes, it's me!" he cries, his voice distorted through the static. Karen stares, her hand trembling as it hovers over the remote. "How?" she whispers with shock. Plankton's spirit, still trapped, keeps shouting, his words a cacophony of static. "It's me, Karen! I'm right here! I followed you home from the hospital and only Spot..." "Plankton, you died in the hospital.." "What?" he asks, his confusion palpable. "That's impossible; I'm right here!" He waves his arms in front of the flickering screen, his body a distortion of colors. Karen's eyes well up with fresh tears. "Plankton," she whispers, her hand shaking as it clutches the remote. "You've got to go. You've got to move on." The static on the TV screen swirls into a tornado of colors as Plankton's spirit fights against the invisible barrier. "No," he screams, his voice a muffled cry in the cacophony of electronic distortion. "I can't leave you.." Karen's screen filled with tears as she looks at the flickering shadow that is her husband. "Spot and I will be okay," she says, her voice shaking with emotion. "But you can't stay here." Plankton pauses, his form rippling in the static. "But what about the Krabby Patty formula?" he asks, his voice a distant echo. Karen's smile is sad, her screen wet with unshed tears. "It's just a recipe, Plankton," she says softly. "You've always been so much more than that." Plankton's spirit seems to deflate, the static dimming. "But I've spent my life trying to get it," he says, his voice barely audible. "What's the point if I can't even..." "The point," Karen says, her voice firm despite the tears streaming down her screen, "is that you've touched more lives than any Krabby Patty ever could. You've got to go, Plankton. Find peace." Plankton's spirit flickers, his eye searching hers. He nods, his form growing transparent. "Ok," he whispers, his voice now a faint echo in the static. "I'll go. But I'll always be with you, Karen. And Spot. In spirit." The TV screen fades to black, the static dissipating as Plankton's spirit is released. Karen stares at the empty space, her hands clutching the remote tightly. "Thank you," she says. "Thank you for everything."

r/shortscarystories 5 days ago Zanxiyo The Haunted Timekeeper Julia had always loved antiques, particularly old clocks. When she found an exquisite, ornately carved grandfather clock at a yard sale, she bought it without hesitation. The previous owner warned her, "It has a history." Julia shrugged off his words attributing them to an attempt at raising the price. Back home, she placed the clock in her living room, pendulum swinging rhythmically. That night, she was awoken by the sound of faint ticking, louder than before. She brushed it off, convincing herself it was her imagination. Over the next few days, the ticking grew more insistent, echoing throughout the house. Then came the whispers. Indistinct at first, they seemed to emanate from the clock, growing clearer each night. "Set me free," they murmured. Julia felt a cold dread settle over her but convinced herself it was stress. On the fifth night, the whispers turned into pleas. "Free me," the voice cried, anguished. Desperate to end the torment, Julia decided to confront the source. She approached the clock at midnight, the room unnaturally cold. As she opened the glass door, the pendulum stopped abruptly. A chilling gust of wind enveloped her, and she saw, to her horror, a pair of eyes staring back from within the clock's dark interior. The face of a young woman, pale and ghostly, pressed against the glass. "Help me," the apparition whispered. Terrified, Julia reached inside, her hand trembling. As she touched the clock’s mechanism, there was a sudden, violent yank. Julia screamed as an invisible force pulled her into the clock. The next morning, the clock stood silent in her living room. A new face peered out from behind the glass: Julia’s own, eyes wide with terror, forever trapped within the clock’s cursed interior. The clock's pendulum resumed its motion, ticking steadily, waiting for the next owner.