psychological

Mind games taken way too far; explore the disturbing genre of psychological thrillers that make us question our perception of sanity and reality.

The Café of Second Chances – Where Strangers Meet and Fate Intervenes
Introduction: A Place Where Time Stands Still In a bustling city where people rush past each other without a second glance, there exists a peculiar little café tucked between a laundromat and an old bookstore. Its sign, slightly crooked and weathered, reads: "The Café of Second Chances."
By 47 joker9 months ago in Horror
The House That Hums
I never believed in haunted houses. That was the kind of thing people whispered about in old diners or posted on forums with usernames like “GhostHunter88” and “DeadInside13.” I believed in creaky pipes, bad wiring, and wind howling through gaps in the roof. That was before I moved into the house on Brookmere Lane.
By Muhammad Hakimi9 months ago in Horror
Whispers Between Worlds
Elmridge was not proud. It crouched behind ancient pines, a single gravel road snaking among shut storefronts and sagging porches. On most afternoons, the sun filtered gently through the trees—until night, when a thick, blue‑gray fog crept in and wrapped itself around roofs, grave markers, and empty streets alike. Folks murmured about the fog's persistence, but quietly. Because in Elmridge, there were silences that spoke louder than words.
By Filiponso9 months ago in Horror
The Final Broadcast
The rain hammered against the windows of Station WZRD, Dark. With his deep baritone voice and eerie playlists, Vincent had become a cult favorite. But tonight’s broadcast would be unlike any other.
By Muhammad Ahmar 9 months ago in Horror
What would it be like if you saw someone else lying next to you in your sleep in the middle of the night?
When I got the new job, no one was happy. My mother said, “Don’t do this job, it’s not good to play with people’s deaths.” The people in the neighborhood laughed, and some whispered behind my back, “This boy has become a dom!”
By Ratul Shrikh9 months ago in Horror
The Sound Beneath the Tiles
I don't know exactly when it started. Maybe a month ago. Maybe earlier, but I just didn't pay attention. In old buildings, something is always creaking, cracking, echoing. When you're alone, you learn to ignore those sounds. Or at least, you pretend to know what causes them.
By Nocturna Echo 9 months ago in Horror
The Woman in Apartment 313
When I moved into the Pinehurst Apartments, I expected paper-thin walls, late-night stomping from upstairs neighbors, and the occasional loud argument.
By Md Zillur Rahaman Chowdhury9 months ago in Horror
The Day Mars Fell
Heaven did not anger. It watched. Then it took action. "To me you are the most hateful of all the gods who hold Olympus. Forever quarrelling is dear to your heart, wars and battles."
By MD NAZIM UDDIN 9 months ago in Horror
The Room That Wasn’t There Yesterday
The Room That Wasn’t There Yesterday We moved into the old house on Meadowridge Lane in early spring. It was a fixer-upper, sure, but the bones were good—Victorian, tall windows, creaky charm. The listing said four bedrooms. That’s what the tour showed. That’s what the paperwork said. Four.
By Muhammad Hakimi9 months ago in Horror
THE SILENT GOSPEL OF DROWNED SAINTS: SEASON 2
THE RISING TOWNS The Floating Congregation The lake didn't stop at Blackwater. It never does. Three neighboring towns report identical phenomena:
By Tales That Breathe at Night9 months ago in Horror
I Discovered a Hidden Room in My New House… What Was Inside Still Haunts Me
The Story When my wife, Sarah, and I bought the old Victorian house on Willow Lane, we thought it was the perfect fixer-upper. The realtor had called it a "hidden gem," and at first glance, it was—high ceilings, original woodwork, and a sprawling backyard. But beneath its charming exterior, the house held a secret.
By MALIK Saad9 months ago in Horror
The Room That Watches
Eva didn’t believe in haunted houses—only haunted minds. That’s what she told herself as she stepped into the remote Victorian rental, dragging two overstuffed suitcases and a half-finished manuscript behind her. The house stood alone on a hilltop, surrounded by fog-drenched trees that swayed without wind, their gnarled branches brushing the windows like bony fingers. It was the perfect place to finish her psychological thriller. Isolated, quiet, inspiring. Or so she believed.
By Muhammad Hakimi9 months ago in Horror