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Hatter Gone Mad

“…. if I am hungry, no one is safe.” In 1862, as the Dakota people were starving during a man-made famine, trader Andrew Myrick mocked their suffering. He told them to “eat grass—or their own dung.” 🌾 It was a moment that exposed the cruelty of power and the depth of injustice faced by the Dakota Nation. When the Dakota War began, Myrick was among the first to die. His body was later found with grass stuffed into his mouth—a grim, symbolic answer to his own words. This is not a tale of revenge glorified, but a stark reminder: when human dignity is stripped away and hunger is used as a weapon, history answers with consequences. Remembering these truths honors those who endured, resisted, and survived. 🪶 #NativeAmericanHistory #DakotaWar1862 #IndigenousTruth #RememberThePast #VoicesUnforgotten #facebookrepost

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Three Years of Silence in a London Flat

This story still messes with my head. A woman was found dead in her London apartment — not days or weeks later, but three years after she died. Her TV was still on. Her body was skeletonized. Around her were unopened Christmas gifts and a mountain of undelivered mail that no one ever came to check. What gets me isn’t just the time gap, it’s the quiet normalcy of it all. Bills, ads, holiday cards piling up while life outside kept moving. Neighbors living their routines. A television playing to no one. It makes you realize how easy it is to disappear without actually going anywhere. People always say, “Someone would notice.” But this proves that sometimes they don’t. Not because they don’t care, but because modern life is so isolated that silence doesn’t always ring alarms. No missed shifts, no kids asking questions, no one knocking hard enough on the door. I can’t stop thinking about those Christmas presents — someone cared enough to buy them, wrap them, send them. And still, no one came. It’s a haunting reminder to check in on people, even the quiet ones, even the ones who “seem fine.” Sometimes absence isn’t loud at all. #Horror #News

Three Years of Silence in a London Flat