Screams bounced off every inch of the Ivan manor as Archie bursted through the walls of life- Kat regretted it, but she enjoyed this pain.

It’s hard to not love a child-especially that of your own-but Leo Ivan seems a natural at the disdainful craft.

A quiet stretch of beach on Long Island became the backdrop for one of the most haunting mysteries in modern crime history. What began as a search for a missing woman in 2010 led police to a series of hidden remains buried in the sand. The victims — mostly young women — had vanished years apart, all sharing eerily similar stories. For over a decade, the case went cold. But in 2023, a shocking arrest shattered the silence. The man accused? A suburban architect living just miles from the crime scenes. This is the chilling story of the Long Island Serial Killer.

He crept through quiet neighborhoods, slipping into homes while families slept. For over a decade, he haunted California—committing chilling crimes that escalated from break-ins to brutal murders. He watched his victims, learned their routines, and vanished without a trace. Authorities called him the East Area Rapist, the Original Night Stalker… but no one knew his name. For over 40 years, he was a ghost. Then, in 2018, a single strand of DNA shattered the silence. This is the story of how one of America’s most elusive predators was finally unmasked—the man we now know as the Golden State Killer.

Why Perception Can Differ** 1. **Biological Differences:** - Not everyone’s eyes work the same way. For example: - People with **color blindness** might not see certain colors at all.

Why Perception Can Differ** 1. **Biological Differences:** - Not everyone’s eyes work the same way. For example: - People with **color blindness** might not see certain colors at all.

Hi... My name is Isla—Isla Ivory Sage—and this... this is my story. That day had been breathtaking, the kind of day that lingers in your memory like a bad dream. The ocean roared with life, its waves crashing against the shore in a rhythmic dance, while the sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of amber and rose. But as the last rays of light faded and night draped itself over the world, everything changed. The tranquility shattered like glass. Three enormous men emerged from the shadows, their figures looming like specters as they charged toward our house.

MARRIAGE IS SCARY NOWADAYS 😲😲😩😩 The most RECENT NEWS of MUSKAN, SAHIL and SOURAV case of Maharashtra India.

As true crime explodes across media platforms, ethical concerns rise alongside viewership. This investigative piece examines the psychological pull, blurred boundaries, and potential harms hidden behind our collective fascination with real-life horror.

What are you shielding, exactly? Is it justice, or the weight of a lie? Behind that badge, behind that wall, Do you hear the heartbeats you’ve silenced— Or do you even try?

Murder or something far m(o)te sin is stirruse? Miss Justice Shoved into darkness, called property, their voices muffled, their dreams buried deep. The world closes its eyes, for pocket change, while humanity’s soul is sold and estranged. But I stand still— unbroken yet broken still. A paradox of pain and power, a heart that refuses to cower. Miss Justice, they named her, but never gave her a face. She is many, she is all, lost in a cruel embrace. Chains of silence rattle loud, beneath the weight of greed’s shroud. Yet in the shadows, embers glow— a spark of change begins to grow. I’m fine being the last to stand, if it means the animals don’t lose their land. But it’s not just us; species fade, their future lost in the haze. The rhino, the elephant, the tiger too, their numbers dwindling, what shall we do? Their extinction a price we can’t pay, yet still we ravage, day by day. It’s time the world awakens, to see what’s been forsaken.

Digital vigilantism blurs justice and harassment, fueling mob behavior and ethical concerns. These articles may interest you!

Handwriting is more than ink on a page—it’s a neurological imprint of the writer’s mind. In forensic psychology, every stroke, slant, and spacing pattern tells a story, especially in the case of serial offenders.

“What?” I said. She sighed and said, ”One of the prisoners said he’s breaking out tonight, and I think he’s bluffing. They’re always bluffing.” I gasped at the very thought of a prisoner breaking out. What would they do? How would they get off the island? ”Oh, yeah,” I said nervously, “totally bluffing. Right.”

Michelle's interview. This provides a look into David's perspective. As well as more of Michelle's behaviours. Soon, the perspective will shift from third person to Michelle's point of view.

Michelle is home now, and she has a busy afternoon. This chapter includes mention of physical harm and panic attacks.

Thomas, David, and Michelle live with their father in Los Angeles. Michelle. The three are in an abusive household. This introduction acts like a prologue to a realistic fiction story including Drama, Comedy, Tragedy and more.

Emma is a 17 year old girl, who lives alone with her mother. They’ve just moved to a new small town, called Hetherly. It’s quiet, and small, but when students at her new school start getting killed, she’s the primary witness.

The bunny was the happiest creature in the meadow, a soft ball of fur with wide, trusting eyes and a heart too big for his tiny body. He bounced from flower to flower, offering tomatoes as red as the morning sun, fresh hemp that smelled of earth and sky, and smooth gray stones that, when held, made the world feel a little softer, a little kinder. And oh, how he loved! He loved the crickets that sang to the moon, the deer with their slow, thoughtful eyes, the field mice who nibbled at the edges of his offerings. He gave without thought, without hesitation. His world was made of warmth, of sharing, of the gentle hum of life itself. But then came the wolf.

Not the result of accident, or natural illness. She was a victim, " the Taken" as a dear lady friend calls them. These girls, some very young, are removed from themselves, and some go missing for two months before they are returned all fucked up, addicted to heroin, dissociative behaviour it takes a psychic to get through to them. They are discredited as wingnut, junkie, dope whores. I know what they are... The Third eye on each one is wide open. All of them have one more common thread. Me. I knew them all when they were Normalz. Some of them love me, and some want to kill me, others do both. Everyone of them trusts me. For the most part; due the fact without myself and the Christopher's they would not have made it this far. I'm down here with them, with you, in the gutters, and dumpsters, providing for the struggle to go on. It will with or without you. I will make sure of it.