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 CLOCK MAKER'S LABYRINTH. Content Warning.
In a quaint village nestled amongst mist-shrouded hills, there lived a person by way of the call of Alden. He changed into a professional clock maker, known for the duration of the village for his intricate timepieces that regarded to whisper secrets of the past. Yet, under his craftsmanship and steady demeanor, Alden harbored a mystery that plagued him night after night time - a ordinary nightmare that unfolded like a twisted symphony in the depths of his subconscious.
By Jakir Hossain2 years ago in Horror
The Unquiet Spirit
Start writing...Rain lashed against the grimy windows of the old Victorian mansion, a mournful counterpoint to the guttural growls emanating from within. Sergeant Riley adjusted his raincoat, the damp clinging uncomfortably to his skin. This wasn't your standard domestic disturbance; this was an exorcism gone wrong.
By Dabasish Pal2 years ago in Horror
He leaned in to listen. Content Warning.
[He patted the seat of the red velvet armchair, invitingly, patiently. Then he leaned in to listen with a reassuring smile.]
By Sonia Heidi Unruh2 years ago in Horror
Deterioration
She reaches for me. Her gnarled fingers graze the nooks in the bedsheet. Her arm is covered in thin skin pulled taut like cellophane wrap over bones that look fit to snap. She searches with jagged nails at the ends of spiderleg fingers.
By Em E. Lee2 years ago in Horror
The Walls Are Closing In
I wake in my room. At least, it looks like my room. The walls are too close, and there are posters for bands I've never heard of, all blood-red and sharp edges. All my familiar knick-knacks have been replaced, dark and unsettling things left in their stead. I swear I see a stuffed spider move from the corner of my eye, but it's still when I turn my head.
By Catsidhe2 years ago in Horror
Reflection of a Butterfly
I gasped, jolted awake by terror, drenched in the cold sweat of a nightmare. The feeling of uneasy coldness penetrated my core. My insides shivered, and I promptly threw up on the bed. Tears stung my eyes as I carried my soaked bedding to the washer, the smell of vomit burning in my nose. As I passed the window, my reflection flashed in the glass. My heart jumped, bringing my stomach along with it. My skin crawled as I stared at myself. I eventually tore myself away and sat down shakily in my recliner. I tried to relax, but every time I closed my eyes, my reflection would flash across my mind, and my eyes would flutter open again. After much struggle, the weakness and exhaustion took me.
By Hannah Patterson2 years ago in Horror
Sleep No More. Content Warning.
Seagulls combated for scraps on the beach in the distance and distracted me from the pounding hammers on the new bleachers below my window. A wave of depression slapped me with the reality that I would never feel the wet sand from the surf squishing between my toes again, moonlit walks, or the soothing crashing of the ocean waves. Memories of a chili-laden Coney Island foot-long made the moldy cheese sandwich on the bunk seem even more revolting. At best, I had three days to live before my final breath on this earth. Seventy-two hours before a lie from a demonic child shot me through the heart in front of a community in want of a target. The two girls who had gone missing in the last month would soon become four, five, six, or more girls after my execution. They had convicted the wrong man. Correction; they were intent on killing the wrong person. Below the jail cell window, a young girl in a faded blue dress, maybe seven or eight years old, held up an emerald necklace and mouthed "Die.. die… die!" With an evil smirk on her lips, her eyes blazed red like the embers of a spent fire. A woman took her hand and led her away as I slammed my fist against the iron bars, and blood spurted from my knuckles as the skin split open.
By J. S. Wade2 years ago in Horror
The Void Beckons
I awoke covered in sweat. I didn’t bother turning my head to check the time; I knew what the time would be. Twenty-three minutes past four in the morning. The same dream waking me at the same time every single night since… since when? It felt like forever, but the real trigger point would have been… what? Did something happen?
By Dave Rowlands2 years ago in Horror
Swallowed by Gum. Top Story - June 2024.
This dream is long gone now and does not bother me any more. But when I was a teenager, I was tortured by it regularly and woke up from it often as if I was living in a horror movie.
By Lana V Lynx2 years ago in Horror
Stalked. Top Story - June 2024.
Sophie sat in silence listening to the scratching of pen upon paper. The tick of the clock dragged, subtly mocking her as it did every Friday morning.
By Sian N. Clutton2 years ago in Horror
Ayo! Voices in the Night. Content Warning.
Voices in the Night: Finding Light in the Darkness Voice of Resilience In the pitch-black room, I lay paralyzed, Whispers cling to shadows, each creak a ghostly lament.
By Denelsia Walker2 years ago in Horror
My New Worst Nightmare
With a sense of a sudden placement of events, I found myself as a child on my parents’ bed. The lights were off in the bedroom, but I could hear my parents just outside the open door watching TV in the living room. A yellow ray of light peeked through the entrance of the bedroom, just barely giving me the ability to see the room. My dog ran across the floor, rushing from one side of the bed to the other. I crawled back and forth with her playfully, when she stopped suddenly on one side of the bed.
By Rick Pension2 years ago in Horror