SImone: My mom died. She died when I was born, in this hospital, so I haven't been here since then. Webber: Since you were born. Simone: I haven't been here since the birth of me killed my mother somewhere in one of these rooms, which is why I was late the first day, it had nothing to do with the tornado, I had a panic attack, and then I saw the colors of the walls I've been picturing this place my whole life. When I think of my mother and the walls are beige, and I get here and they're blue, it's disorienting, disappointing. I got it wrong all this time. Webber: Well,t hey only painted the walls blue a few years ago. You got it right. Simone: Makes me feel so much better. Thank you. Thank you, Dr. Webber.
Identical twins share everything: birthdays, clothing -- even DNA. However, twin sisters Jasmiyah and Tasmiyah Whitehead also share a dark past. They admitted to killing their mother -- a confession that came after months of lying to cover it up.
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The girls went home with their great grandmother that night. They went to school, had a social life and perhaps started to believe they had gotten away with it. But all the while, police were watching them and building a case.
Christopher Buddle, an arachnologist at McGill University, agrees that the critter in the video is most likely a wolf spider. Typically, the spiderlings will reassemble on their mother after the danger passes, says Buddle. In the event that their mother is killed, they don't have a good chance of surviving, he notes.
Hi. I don't really know what to say haha. I don't think anyone will see this. I feel what I went through is not as bad as what others went through. Like it's not a big deal, you know? But I have no one to talk to so um that's why I'm here. My life is not exactly normal compared to a lot of peoples. My family world travels, I'm usually surrounded with only my sisters and my mom and dad. I don't have close friends, we usually leave places before I can make any. And I think you'd expect my sisters and I to be close but most of the time we just want space. We're not rich, despite what many would think, we live in small apartments with usually two beds. It's hard to get space. But that's beside the point. A year ago my family had a falling out. A lot of things happened, they've always been pretty strict. My sister went to a party with some people she met. My parents found out, she had some alcohol, not really that bad. Despite it only being her their anger (my dads) was taken out on all of us. At the time we had our own room and were staying in an apartment for a whole year to make some money from English teaching. My dad took all of our stuff into his room, and when I say everything I mean everything. He locked all the doors in the apartment and made us sleep in the living room. The doors were locked every time they left the house. The only time we could go outside was when they wanted us to make dinner for them (chores) so we had to get food. There were fights every day. I struggle with adhd and with this happening all the time it just got so hard. A lot of things happened. they're buried somewhere in my brain, I'd rather not relive them. This is dragging on a bit long, isn't it? There was no abuse. well, I at least not physically. We were ruining their relationship, we were horrible children, we always miss behaved, they didn't love us. Remarks like that. My dad wanted to send me off to a boarding school, he only wanted to be with my mom. The reason my dad disliked me the most is that he is a naturalist. Meaning he walks around naked all the time and expects, no, more like force(ed) us to the same. He wanted us to literally be the perfect family, that's what he said. The second we entered the house our shoes, and clothes must be at the door. I hated this. If we did not do this our stuff would continue to be taken away, we would not be able to go outside, etc. My sisters accepted naturalism out of fear. One of them wasn't allowed to go to college unless she followed his rules. And who were we to call for help? The police? We didn't speak the language, and what was happening to us, it wasn't that big of a deal compared to things others have gone through. Despite being afraid I was so uncomfortable. I've always hated being naked, I don't know why. And this made everything so much worse. I was bullied for not accepting their way of life. I must do my schooling and nothing else. my dad took my bras and underwear and hid them. He thought the way I was acting was hilarious. I was terrified of him, still am. When I went to sleep, since they took away my bras I found my swimsuit and slept in that. My dad told me to take it off. He was really angry. I stood up for my self and I told him no. He said that if I didn't he would force it off me. But I still told him no. He grabbed me and forced off my swimsuit. I kicked him, but he wouldn't get off. He left some burns and rashes in the process. I wanted to die. This is it. This was the rest of my life. I went to the store by myself and hid there. When I came back home they told me they were setting some rules. that I have to take off my clothes, no matter what. I had to be a naturalist, or they wouldn't let me go outside (although I was used to this) I was painfully aware that if I didn't run they would take my clothes off for me. I was so scared, I can't even describe it. It's hard to even write about it. My dad saw me reach for the door. He grabbed me but I got loose, I sprinted barefooted to a store nearby and locked myself in the bathroom. I love locks so much. When I locked myself in the bathroom at home my dad took them out of the door. I just wanted to be alone but I wasn't allowed. I suppose I should've just accepted naturalism. Life would've been easier. But whenever I thought about it this horrible feeling washed over me. I was going to try to kill myself, to get away from him, but I was too scared to do that as well. Because this really wasn't that bad if you look at the big picture. After this experience though, unexpectedly life got better. My dad decided to leave and go back to America. He was done living with us. This is where the whole "you're ruining our relationship" comes in. It happened so quickly. He just left. My mom cried every day. I avoided being at home. My moms not that bad. I don't know if I can forgive her for trying to make me become a naturalist. For making me change in front of her even though she knew how uncomfortable I was. For letting him make me feel like I was nothing. But I know she was trying her best to be a good mom. She just was sucked into his horrible way of "living". He was gone for a year. He's back now, despite all the threats he made in his emails to her. I can't say we're living happily, we don't talk very much. I hate that he's here. But whenever I try to mention the past to my mom she gets mad at me as if it was all my fault. So that's why I'm here. I'm sorry for such a long message. I don't think I have ptsd. I have nightmares about being naked sometimes but don't we all haha. You know, forgetting to put your clothes on and them leaving the house? So yeah. so yeah that's it. That's my long and complicated story. All in all just wanted to talk to someone. It gets awfully lonely. ok bya
The Grimms' source for this tale, recorded in wonderfully simple, but poetic Low German, was the romantic painter Philipp Otto Runge (1777-1810). Runge's version was first published in 1808 in the journal Zeitung für Einsiedler, edited by Achim von Arnim. The Grimms, who knew other versions of the tale as well, included Runge's telling in the first edition (and -- with stylistic and dialect variations -- all succeeding editions) of their Kinder- und Hausmärchen. A somewhat different version of Runge's story was published by Johann Gustav Büsching under the title "Von dem Mahandel Bohm" in his Volks-Sagen, Märchen und Legenden (Leipzig: Carl Heinrich Reclam, 1812), no. 57, pp. 245-58. Büsching 's work appeared before the Grimm's collection, which was published later the same year.Translated by D. L. Ashliman. 2002.Return to the table of contents.The Girl and the BoyAustriaThere once lived near a thick forest a woodcutter who had a wicked wife and two good children. Now the woodcutter was very poor and had scarcely enough bread to still his own hunger and that of his family. One day the father had again gone into the woods, and the wicked mother was alone in their small hut.
Translated by D. L. Ashliman. 2007. Return to the table of contents.The Crow's Nest Hungary There was once in the world a poor man who had a wife and two children, the elder a girl, the younger a boy. The poor man went out one day plowing with two wretched little oxen, his only property; his wife remained at home to do the cooking. The girl, being the older of the two children, was often sent out on short errands; upon the present occasion, too, she was away from the house, her mother having sent her out to borrow a peel, the dough for the bread being very nearly spoilt for having been kept too long in the trough. Availing herself of the girl's absence, the mother killed the poor little boy and hid him in a pot of stewed cabbage. By the time that the girl returned, her dear little brother was half stewed. When the mess was quite done, the woman poured it into a smaller pot, placed the small pot into a sling, and sent the food by her daughter to her husband who was in the field. The man liked the dish very much, and asked the girl, "What kind of meat is this? It is very nice." "I believe, dear father, mother had to kill a small lamb last night, and no doubt she cooked it for you," replied the girl. But somehow or other the girl learned the true state of things, and the news nearly broke her heart. She immediately went back to the field, gathered up the bones of her little brother, carefully wrapped them into a beautiful piece of new white linen and took them into the nearest forest, where she hid them in a hollow tree. Nobody can foretell what will happen, and so it came to pass that the bones did not remain very long in the hollow of the tree. Next spring a crow came and hatched them, and they became exactly such a boy as they were before. The boy would sometimes perch on the edge of the hollow, and sing to a beautiful tune the following words: My mother killed me, My father ate me, My sister gathered up my bones, She wrapped them in clean white linen, She placed them in a hollow tree, And now, behold, I'm a young crow. Upon one occasion, just as he was singing this song, a man with a cloak strolled by. "Go on, my son," he said, "repeat that pretty song for me! I live in a big village, and have traveled a good deal in my lifetime, but I have never heard such a pretty song." So the boy again commenced to sing: My mother killed me, My father ate me, My sister gathered up my bones, She wrapped them in clean white linen, She placed them in a hollow tree, And now, behold, I'm a young crow. The man with the cloak liked the song very much, and made the boy a present of his cloak. Then a man with a crutch-stick hobbled by. "Well, my boy," he said, "sing me that song again. I live in a big village, have traveled far, but have never heard such a pretty tune." And the boy again commenced to sing: My mother killed me, My father ate me, My sister gathered up my bones, She wrapped them in clean white linen, She placed them in a hollow tree, And now, behold, I'm a young crow. The man with the crutch-stick, too, liked the song immensely, and gave the boy his crutch-stick. The next one to pass was a miller. He also asked the boy to repeat the pretty tune, and as the boy complied with his request the miller presented him with a millstone. Then a sudden thought flashed across the boy's head, and he flew to his father's house, settled on the roof, and commenced to sing: My mother killed me, My father ate me, My sister gathered up my bones, She wrapped them in clean white linen, She placed them in a hollow tree, And now, behold, I'm a young crow. The woman was terrified, and said to her daughter, "Go and drive away that bird, I don't like its croaking." The girl went out and tried to drive away the bird, but instead of flying away the young crow continued to sing the same song, and threw down the cloak to his sister. The girl was much pleased with the present, ran into the house and exclaimed, "Look here what a nice present that ugly bird has given to me!" "Very nice indeed; very nice indeed. I will go out too," said her father. So he went out, and the bird threw down to him the crutch-stick. The old man was highly delighted with the gift; he was getting very weak, and the crutch-stick came in useful to him as a support. "Look here what a strong crutch-stick he has given to me ! It will be a great help to me in my old age." Then his mother jumped up from behind the oven and said, "I must go out too; if presents won't shower at least a few might drivel to me." So she went out and looked up to the roof, and the boy gave her a present for which she had not bargained. He threw the millstone at her, which killed her on the spot. Thus far goes our tale. Here it ends. Source: W. Henry Jones and Lewis L. Kropf, The Folk-Tales of the Magyars (London: Published for the Folk-Lore Society by Elliot Stock, 1889), pp. 298-301. Return to the table of contents. The Rose TreeEngland (Devonshire)There was upon a time a good man who had two children: a girl by a first wife, and a boy by the second. The girl was as white as milk, and her lips were like cherries. Her hair was like golden silk, and it hung to the ground. Her brother loved her dearly, but her wicked stepmother hated her. 2ff7e9595c
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