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The Psychological Void
Dr. Lena Hart was renowned in her field, celebrated for her avant-garde psychological techniques that promised liberation from the darkest recesses of the mind. Her office, tucked away in an unassuming building, was a maze of bookshelves, unsettling sculptures, and the sweet, cloying scent of incense that masked something more sinister. Behind her calm demeanor lay an unsettling intensity that kept her patients coming back, craving her dark knowledge.
By Jason “Jay” Benskinabout a year ago in Horror
Voices
The flashes started first, coming in jagged fragments, each a snapshot that left you breathless. Hands clawing, fingernails biting into skin, the swing of an arm, the hollow crunch of bone on bone. A shadowed face caught mid-scream, droplets of blood suspended in air. You’d jolt awake each time, soaked in sweat, desperate to shake the memory and reassure yourself it wasn’t real.
By Jason “Jay” Benskinabout a year ago in Fiction
The Novel
Ethan Turner sank into the well-worn leather of his favorite chair, the dim light of a flickering lamp barely pushing back the enveloping darkness. A dusty paperback had caught his eye at a forgotten corner of a used bookstore, its spine cracked and its pages yellowed with age. Compelled by an unseen force, he opened it, a feeling deep in his gut warning him against it, as though the book held secrets best left untouched.
By Jason “Jay” Benskinabout a year ago in Fiction
The Haunting Return of Rusty
A year ago, the Marchand family's beloved dog, Rusty, ran off into the woods during a brutal storm. He’d bolted at the sound of a thunderclap, his golden fur vanishing into the darkness before anyone could catch him. They searched for days, plastering the neighborhood with posters, wandering through the trees calling his name, until all hope faded. But Rusty was gone.
By Jason “Jay” Benskinabout a year ago in Horror
The Queen's Locket
The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. The villagers of Eldoridge stood frozen at the banks, eyes wide with disbelief as the water twisted and swirled, a serpentine current defying nature’s decree. Fish leapt upstream, their scales glimmering like shards of silver against the darkening sky. Whispers filled the air—tales of curses and magic, of ancient prophecies woven into the very fabric of their lives.
By Jason “Jay” Benskinabout a year ago in Fiction
The Mire
In the murky darkness of the swamp, the woman’s eyes opened with a start, her breath catching as she stared at the shadowy ceiling of twisted tree branches overhead. Her senses were jumbled, her mind still struggling to understand where she was, why she felt so heavy, so drenched in cold.
By Jason “Jay” Benskinabout a year ago in Horror
