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![Congratulations Isn’t Always The Right Wordby reddit user KMApokAs I got out of the car, my pulse quickened. My palms started sweating. Tears formed in my eyes.I just got back from the doctor. He confirmed it. Pregnant. And it wasn’t my husband’s.[[MORE]]I walked to the door, hands shaking, fumbling for keys.I let myself in. I heard whistling from the kitchen. As I walked in, I saw my daughter, Carol, coloring at the dining room table, looking nervous. My husband, Peter seemed to be washing the dishes by hand. I watched as a plate was lifted, wiped, and put down.“Hey sweetie,” I heard Peter say as another plate was set down. “How was your day?”“Carol, can you go upstairs please?” I asked. Carol gave me a brief nod, and bolted out of the room.“Is something wrong?” Peter asked, concern in his voice.When I was sure Carol was out of earshot, I turned to Peter’s voice. “I’m pregnant.”“But….that…isn’t….possible.” I heard Peter say, confused. “Wait….unless….”Those last words were spoken in anger, and I felt a hand close around my throat and slam me against the kitchen wall.“You slut! You cheated on me?!”“No!” I cried. “I never cheated! I was always faithful to you!”“Then how?!” I could feel my feet lifting of the ground as I was forced up against the wall.“I fulfilled my vows! Til death do us part!” I cried. I felt a tremble, then heard a sob. I dropped to the ground, curling into a ball and crying.I heard one more sob, then nothing. I felt an emptiness around me. I think Peter finally moved on.](https://sixpenceee.com/files/6a1d146dc3dbfc47b0d6e31ab0b040ee/tumblr_nmcp6pnlie1s1vn29o1_500.jpg)
Congratulations Isn’t Always The Right Word
by reddit user KMApok
As I got out of the car, my pulse quickened. My palms started sweating. Tears formed in my eyes.
I just got back from the doctor. He confirmed it. Pregnant. And it wasn’t my husband’s.
![Family- Friendly by reddit use DZ34LyfeJimmy was about fed up with Martin. Martin had been Jimmy’s good friend for many years, but lately, Jimmy began to suspect that Martin was manipulating him. Whenever they associated with each other, Jimmy always felt that Martin was forcing him to feel, act, and think a certain way. When they spoke to each other, Jimmy felt that he simply had to say the things Martin wanted him to say.[[MORE]]This went on for a long time. It got worse, to the point that Jimmy felt he had absolutely no free will when Martin was around. Jimmy longed to be free…to say the things to Martin that he truly wanted to say. But he never had the courage to do so…until one day.Jimmy, with every ounce of will power he had, flipped up both his middle fingers in Martin’s face, and shouted “FUCK YOU, I’M DONE BEING MANIPULATED BY YOU!!!”.The adults in the audience covered their children’s ears, shocked that this was supposed to be a “family-friendly” performance. Martin, the ventriloquist, was absolutely terrified.](https://sixpenceee.com/files/9a9a5bcb0500f9c801d6abbdd68582e4/tumblr_nmau1ogsnh1s1vn29o1_500.jpg)
Family- Friendly
by reddit use DZ34Lyfe
Jimmy was about fed up with Martin. Martin had been Jimmy’s good friend for many years, but lately, Jimmy began to suspect that Martin was manipulating him. Whenever they associated with each other, Jimmy always felt that Martin was forcing him to feel, act, and think a certain way. When they spoke to each other, Jimmy felt that he simply had to say the things Martin wanted him to say.
![My Everythingby reddit user Mostly-Harmlessish“Hi, honey,” I call as Tom wanders down the garden to where I’m working. He smiles; I can always make him smile.“Another flowerbed?” he says with a wry twitch of his eyebrow. I nod, regarding my handiwork with pride.[[MORE]]“We’ll run out of garden, soon!” he jokes. I laugh, but it’s a thought that’s crossed my mind, too. I continue planting bulbs and try not to let my concern show.I glance up at him and catch him tapping away on his phone. I grit my teeth.“Everything alright?” I ask with forced nonchalance. He doesn’t return my gaze.“Julia, from my office, didn’t stop by here earlier, did she?” he asks. “We have to meet up to discuss that project we’re working on, but I can’t get hold of her.”“Sorry, hon,” I reply. “I’ve not seen her.” Not for a couple of hours, anyway. He holds his phone to his ear and I hope to God that I buried hers deep enough.He frowns as he reaches her voicemail and relief washes over me.“I’m sure she’s just busy,” I assure him. Busy whoring around in Hell.“Yeah,” he says, unconvinced.I hate to see him worried like this, but I had no choice; I couldn’t let her steal my Tom. She would never have loved him like I do; none of them would have.He sighs, gazing around at my beautiful flowerbeds, and I gaze up at him – my world; my everything.“I love you, Tom,” I say, and he smiles. I can always make him smile.“I love you too, Mum,” he says.](https://sixpenceee.com/files/648fa76f475a3ab8bd38e8b000f70667/tumblr_nmaluapbs41s1vn29o1_500.jpg)
My Everything
by reddit user Mostly-Harmlessish
“Hi, honey,” I call as Tom wanders down the garden to where I’m working. He smiles; I can always make him smile.
“Another flowerbed?” he says with a wry twitch of his eyebrow. I nod, regarding my handiwork with pride.
![My Bestfriend Texted Meby reddit user pinkkeaTrigger Warning: SuicideStacy and I met in kindergarten. We were friends for years. It wasn’t an easy friendship. We had a lot of messy fights, one of which led to my being uninvited to her thirteenth birthday party (but she made it up afterwards with a sleepover). There was also an issue in ninth grade when we both had a crush on the same boy (but he rejected both of us and went out with Gloria, that bitch, and so with a common enemy we were reunited). [[MORE]]But I think that after everything passed, our friendship came out stronger - as cheesy as thatsounds. Stacy said once that she knew she could trust me because even when we were fighting I never told anyone her secrets. And she hadn’t either. By the end of high school we knew we’d gotten over all our petty differences. We’d been accepted to the same college and we were planning to room together. We’d already bought posters and matching bedsheets.Then she killed herself. It was the week before prom, right after her boyfriend broke up with her and told her to go find another date, and after she’d failed a math test as well. Everyone was horrified. Stacy was the pretty, popular girl, but also - especially after we stopped fighting - incredibly nice. Everyone liked her, even people who’d only met her once.She’d texted me right before she died. The conversation went something like this:Stacy: I think I’m going to kill myself.Me: What? Why?Stacy: Will broke up with me.Me: He did???Stacy: Yeah. He said I should go find another date. He said it wasn’t working out. Nothing works out with me.Me: But there are tons of other boys who’d fall over themselves to take you to prom! Just ask one of them.Stacy: They’re all taken now. It’s too late.Me: Well, it’s just prom. It’s kind of a stupid thing anyway.Stacy: It doesn’t matter. I’m not worth anything.Me: You’ll only be worth nothing if you kill yourself. That’s really selfish! What about your parents and friends? Suicide is the worst possible option. You can’t waste your life like that.Me: You still there?Me: Stacy??Her parents found her phone, with my messages still on it, on her bedroom floor. She was hanging over it. Around eleven that night, Stacy’s dad called me, half-sobbing, to thank me for trying my best to help. But it hadn’t worked. She had hanged herself.That last conversation haunted me for weeks after. I wanted to know if what I’d done was right. I went to a forum for suicidal people and posted the transcript and said that Stacy was dead, and asked if I could’ve done anything more.Someone responded. He wrote: I’m sorry to tell you this, but everything you said was exactly the wrong thing to say to a suicidal person. You’re looking for the truth so I will give it to you. What you said was intended to be helpful, but it did not do anything for her feelings of guilt and worthlessness. I don’t want you to blame yourself, though. In today’s world, we don’t talk enough about suicide, especially not to teenagers. So I don’t think you’re at fault for your friend’s death.But he’s wrong.Because I was.I knew exactly what I was doing.](https://sixpenceee.com/files/76b0228bd068fc52748083f2feda1d9b/tumblr_nm5m31zqul1s1vn29o1_500.jpg)
My Bestfriend Texted Me
by reddit user pinkkea
Trigger Warning: Suicide
Stacy and I met in kindergarten. We were friends for years. It wasn’t an easy friendship. We had a lot of messy fights, one of which led to my being uninvited to her thirteenth birthday party (but she made it up afterwards with a sleepover). There was also an issue in ninth grade when we both had a crush on the same boy (but he rejected both of us and went out with Gloria, that bitch, and so with a common enemy we were reunited).
![What I Found Was Almost The End of Meby reddit user gudlyfDecember 28 — Tom couldn’t take it anymore. Between the horrible noises at night, both of us being sick, and the cistern turning foul, we were just put over the edge. He’s gone out to see if he can get the water working again. That was last night. Tom hasn’t come back, and without him or Hunter here, I’m afraid. Writing in this journal seemed to comfort me in the past, but it’s not doing such a good job at the moment. I’m going looking for him.[[MORE]]That was the final entry in the journal.I’m sure you could use a little background. OK, here ‘goes.I was at my little water-side home up in the Lakes Region of New Hampshire last week, and I made a pretty disturbing discovery. I thought this might be a good place to tell my story and maybe serve as a lesson or warning of sorts. I know it terrified the shit out of me. It’s a damn lucky thing I’m still around to be able to tell you about it in the first place.For maybe the past six years, I’d really had my eye out for a second home – a place on a lake. I’ve been lucky enough to have a decent-paying job in tech, as much as I may not really dig it so much. (The commute alone had me wanting to open a vein on more than a few occasions.) Through remaining frugal and entering the real estate market at the right time with my primary home, I worked the numbers out to see that the time had come when I could actually make a second mortgage work.Ideally, I’d find a house I could rent out to vacationers once in a while to help pay for it, while still having a place to call “mine.“I skimmed the usual online real estate sites almost daily. I checked a few places out. Most of them were either way too rustic, complete with barely-usable, shit-stained outhouses, or their spot on the water was so tangled with boat-choking weeds that they may as well have been called swamp-front.Finally, about two years ago, I found it: number six, East Cottage Road, on Lake Bowman. The location was ideal and the price and size were just right. It had the added bonus of being a year-round place, not some shanty you had to board up in the winter for mice to feel at home in, dropping shit everywhere. No, this place had two-hundred feet of water frontage, a dock, two fireplaces, a full septic system and – most difficult to find – a private cistern for water.There was one problem: I missed the boat, figuratively speaking. The day before I was scheduled to take a tour of the place, someone else swiped it up. God, I was pissed. The realtor told me the buyer was an elderly couple who planned to make it their year-round residence. Motherfuckers.At that same time, the realtor pointed out a place for sale just a few doors down from that: number ten. It wasn’t the same – not even close. I was sick of looking, though. I knew what place I really wanted, but I took that one anyway.Almost every day, that summer, I’d look out over the small cove that separated our houses and lust after the place I could’ve had, if I’d just been a day earlier. And every damn week I’d see those old fucks swimming off the dock, or throwing sticks for their damned barky dog, or laying on the glorious, sunny deck, while I sat in the fucking shade.The next year, though, things got very quiet at number six. The deck was empty; the driveway unoccupied. No more wrinkly prunes on the dock. No more barking. And that was alright by me.Then last fall, something happened: the house I’d been lusting after went up for sale again.Before the realtor’s sign could finish being driven into the ground, I had the her on the phone, ready to make an offer. She seemed taken aback at my enthusiasm to buy the place so quickly. That past winter, the private cistern feeding the house turned fetid and failed. The house was put up for sale by the previous owners’ children, who received it from their parents’ will and were more eager to sell the place off than to fix anything. Holy shit was I lucky.I moved out of number ten and into six with little fuss, and the same realtor helped me sell off my old place pretty quickly. That was about a month ago.In their eagerness to sell — and my eagerness to buy — the old couple’s kids never cleaned the place out. I spent the entire first week just getting rid of shit I didn’t want and just literally “cleaning house.” That’s when I found the journal. That’s where things get terrifying.Maybe you’ve rented a house before and had the owners leave out one of those cute visitors’ journals for renters to write about their stay? You know, “had a wonderful stay, thanks for the gift basket, sorry about spilling wine on the rug,” and shit like that? This book was like that, except it was the old lady owner who wrote in it. Who the fuck does that? Anyway, somehow it’d fallen behind one of the wood-burning stoves and not gone up in flames, and I happened to find it.You saw the final entry already. But that’s not what scared me most. I’ll cut through the bullshit entries and right to the ones that I was concerned about:August 28 — This summer has been one for the record books for Lake Bowman, I’ve been told. I met Kathy on a walk yesterday, and she said during long hot spells like this, the lake can sometimes drop several feet! Apparently the community cisterns can dry up as well, and that can be a problem for the other houses on the street. Luckily we have our own water supply, so Tom went out this morning to see if he could locate it and make sure we were fine. On his way there, he spotted Hunter barking at someone messing about with the cistern’s lid. The person left before Tom could ask what he was doing. It was probably a neighbor being friendly and checking in on us. The people here are so nice.September 15 — I wish I could write about the wonderful foliage here, but the weather’s been miserable this week. We also had an awful sleep last night. Some critter noises from outside kept Hunter alert and barking all evening. The sounds were awful! They sounded like a woman screaming! Tom tells me it sounded like something called a fisher cat, and that they tend to sound like that. Dear Lord, I hope to never hear a thing like that again.November 2 — I said goodbye to Kathy and Dan this afternoon. Like most of the other owners without year-round houses, they winterized and left the area … to Florida! The lucky sons of guns! It looks like it’s just Tom and I (and maybe one other house?) braving the upcoming New Hampshire winter. Brrr! Hopefully the pesty fisher cats will hibernate or whatever they do, so Tom and I (and Hunter!) can get some uninterrupted sleep for once. They scream like bloody murder!November 5 — I caught sight of some of the other neighbors who’ve stayed behind, like us. A young man and woman. I’ll have to go say hello some time, or see if they’ve seen Hunter around. Hunter took off on Tom two nights ago and hasn’t come home. Tom took him for his nighttime walk, and apparently another awful fisher cat screamed from across the cove and caused Hunter to run off in hot pursuit. We called for him all night and most of today, but he hasn’t shown up. I’m so worried about my poor puppy-poo!November 27 — The kids couldn’t make it for Thanksgiving. An unexpected snow squall made them too nervous to make the trip. I don’t really blame them, especially with kids of their own. Safety first. More turkey for me and Tom! Besides, the water has started to smell funky, so no need in putting them through that (or the fisher cats!) Besides the sounds of someone splitting wood nearby (and the fisher cats, of course), it’s been blissfully quiet here. I miss my dear Hunter.November 30 — I still have not given up on seeing my puppy-poo again. We put up more signs in the area, even though there aren’t many people around this time of year to see them. I saw our neighbor again, though I think the woman was someone different. I called out from the road to see if they’d seen our dog, but apparently they hadn’t.December 1 — We were buried with snow this morning! And so early! Tom and I tried to shovel ourselves out a bit, but we’ve both been feeling rather ill. He will need to head to a store soon for food and water. We’re afraid to drink from the faucet anymore, on account of it smelling so bad. Tom thinks it’ll pass. Hopefully we’ll get a quiet evening for once and sleep off whatever’s gotten us sick.December 5 — Thankfully the weather turned in our favor and Tom was able to head out to the local country store. We’re both still not feeling very well, but some fresh goodies will help. I was worried about the other home owner in the area. I took a walk to check on them, but no one answered the door. I also discovered the source of the wood chopping we’ve been hearing, as there were a couple of axes against their shed. I wonder how and why they keep them so clean.December 12 — Our water has stopped working completely at this point, which is probably a good thing, since the smell will stop as well. At least Tom bought enough water last week to last us a while, until we feel better to get more. We both still can’t seem to shake whatever’s gotten us so sick. Earlier this afternoon, we heard another one of those blasted fisher cats from across the cove again. I must have jumped a mile! Tom said the early cold snap must have gotten them riled up more than usual, since those critters are usually nocturnal. Thankfully the wood-chopping neighbor must have scared him off.You saw the final entry already. I’ll spare you the boring entries in-between those — they’re pretty meaningless, as personal journals written by old geezers go.So why did all of that scare the crap out of me? For starters, that old couple has been missing for a year. What you read was essentially the final words from either of those two, in written form at least.I believe the actual final words Tom spoke were: “Please, just leave my wife Alice alone!”Alice, I believe, said something along the lines of, “Oh my god, Tom! Hunter!” before I kicked her in the caboose and sent her ass over teakettle into the cistern with the others. The old lady caught me by surprise, so I didn’t have time to make her into smaller pieces before tossing her in with the rest. It was getting pretty full — I was lucky she fit.I’ll have a new cistern dug in the spring, after I’ve got the old one filled in. Finally I’ll have a place the ladies will want to spend the night at, instead of having to convince them that I’m not some weirdo staying in a thin-walled, crappy cottage in the middle of nowhere.So yes, the journal scared the bejeezus out of me. Imagine if someone else had found that fucking thing? It would’ve only been a matter of time, and I’d be done for. If you’re like me — and I know you’re out there — hopefully this will serve as a warning for you.Thank God for lazy kids.](https://sixpenceee.com/files/9c034f5d3087384ace49fda971f12e68/tumblr_nluhzdiawb1s1vn29o1_500.jpg)
What I Found Was Almost The End of Me
by reddit user gudlyf
December 28 — Tom couldn’t take it anymore. Between the horrible noises at night, both of us being sick, and the cistern turning foul, we were just put over the edge. He’s gone out to see if he can get the water working again. That was last night. Tom hasn’t come back, and without him or Hunter here, I’m afraid. Writing in this journal seemed to comfort me in the past, but it’s not doing such a good job at the moment. I’m going looking for him.
![Practice Makes Perfectby reddit user whiteddit“You’re not even trying. Again!”My calloused hands dance across the keyboard. A finger slips and the piano groans.“Your father would be ashamed. Again!”[[MORE]]My blurred vision falls from the yellowed sheet music to the faded ivory. I miss another note.“Faster. Again!”I stumble once more as the tempo increases.She rises from the bench. “Absolutely worthless. You’re done for today.” I hang my head in shame. I know what’s coming.The floorboards creak as Mother returns from the kitchen. I wince.It’s hard enough to play with three fingers. It’ll be even harder with two.](https://sixpenceee.com/files/f907735a2ac6bfa11649120b539bd4f4/tumblr_nll4ut3lms1s1vn29o1_500.jpg)
Practice Makes Perfect
by reddit user whiteddit
“You’re not even trying. Again!”
My calloused hands dance across the keyboard. A finger slips and the piano groans.
“Your father would be ashamed. Again!”
![Decisionsby reddit user Francis_GatsbyHe raised his hand up in anger at his youngest son. “Damn you to hell,” screamed out of his throat. The son stood silently, watching his fathers rage. [[MORE]]He alone had made the decision, the gift to the underling. The food his father had said was off limits to his slaves. He would bear the brunt of his fathers wrath. Every sin he had committed was laid against him, and just as he thought his fathers fury spent, his father cast him out of the family.It was worth it was his musing as he took his walk of shame. Now the slaves had the knowledge that they could defy their master. His father and brothers may hate him but he felt no shame, lucifer never had felt shame.](https://sixpenceee.com/files/cd1e0fc550a2e2d9e42cc45271eb8d08/tumblr_nljhceul211s1vn29o1_500.jpg)
Decisions
by reddit user Francis_Gatsby
He raised his hand up in anger at his youngest son. “Damn you to hell,” screamed out of his throat. The son stood silently, watching his fathers rage.
![The Accidentby reddit user minnboyIt was one a.m. and Guy Halverson sat in his dark living room. He hadn’t moved for over an hour. The accident earlier that evening kept playing over and over in his mind. [[MORE]]The light turned red, but he was in a hurry and accelerated. An orange blur came from his right, and in a split second there was a violent jolt, then the bicyclist rolled across his hood and fell out of sight on the pavement. Horns blared angrily and he panicked, stepping on the gas and screeching away from the chaos into the darkness, shaken and keeping an eye on his rearview mirror until he got home.Why did you run, you idiot? He’d never committed a crime before this and punished himself by imagining years in jail, his career gone, his family gone, his future gone.Why not just go to the police right now? You can afford a lawyer.Then someone tapped on the front door and his world suddenly crumbled away beneath him. They found me. There was nothing he could do but answer it. Running would only make matters worse. His body trembling, he got up, went to the door and opened it. A police officer stood under the porch light.“Mr. Halverson?” asked the grim officer.He let out a defeated sigh. “Yes. Let me—““I am terribly sorry, but I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your son’s bike was struck by a hit and run driver this evening. He died at the scene. I’m very sorry for your loss.”](https://sixpenceee.com/files/d924e336013448e73fb4b9917e54b8ca/tumblr_nlitssiijy1s1vn29o1_500.png)
The Accident
by reddit user minnboy
It was one a.m. and Guy Halverson sat in his dark living room. He hadn’t moved for over an hour. The accident earlier that evening kept playing over and over in his mind.