psychological
Mind games taken way too far; explore the disturbing genre of psychological thrillers that make us question our perception of sanity and reality.
Moon Child
Moon Child Grandpa and I spent a few nights in the woods after the incident with the bottle tree. As good as I had felt the night after, my legs weren't quite up for a hike back out again just yet. So, we spent two nights in the woods while I recovered.
By Joshua Campbell3 years ago in Horror
The Train
The Train By Nickolas Jacobs BANG!!! My eyes open. I’m lying face up on the floor of…somewhere. Due to the lack of lighting, I am ignorant of my surroundings. The sounds under me allude to a train. As I stand, a sharp pain hits my left abdomen. The frost on the window tells me that heat has been absent here for quite some time.
By Nickolas Jacobs 3 years ago in Horror
It's your destination
The strong howl of wind could be heard sailing through the air briskly over the rumbling and grinding of a train at high speed. Wooden uneven sleepers made it possible to sustain the trains weight. These particular tracks were developed rather tragically; Trains have a dark history. Sometimes it surrounds the places they visit or the rails leading to their destination. For many young children the idea of working in that navy blue uniform and wearing the tightly fitting black marshmallow conductor top was the only dream they could have because of their harsh birth rights. Some dreams are eventually replaced with nightmares.
By Pax-Ignis + Cura-Umbra3 years ago in Horror
Cutting Back On Fat
I lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, reevaluating myself and who I am. I think back at gym class, remembering how the cheerleaders look in their size small uniforms. I then imagine myself in my medium to large uniform, with my stubby thick legs, slightly larger arms, and large boobs (thank god), but then I think of my protruding gut. It juts out over the waistband of my gym shorts, hanging off the sides creating an unattractive muffin top.
By G. Sinfold3 years ago in Horror
Loch Eilt
He woke to a gentle rhythmic clack as a breeze spilled through the curtains of the window. Its cold embrace weaved through the blanket and caused his body to involuntarily shiver. The blankets velvety touch caressed his cheek and arms as he pulled it tightly around himself. As the warmth returned to his body, penetrating deep, the shivers died down. The numbness in his limbs and chest broke with needle-like pricks as Lachlan shifted atop him and nuzzled into the crook of his neck and pulled him closer. His lungs filled with a fresh and brisk cold that pushed him from the state between sleep and wakefulness he found himself in. Too cold to have the window open. Bailey opened his eyes and looked down to where Lachlan lay. She wasn’t there.
By Nathan Davenport3 years ago in Horror
Back From Death
Hello, my name is John, and I am an auto driver. Day or night, whenever I get a lift, I move where it informs me to go. But one day, such an incident happened to me that even if I remember him, I get shaken. Because that night I will probably never forget in my life. But today I will tell you the whole situation of that day and what happened to me.
By kanchan chauhan3 years ago in Horror
Cabin Sixty-Three
One thousand and one. One thousand and two. George Frohmer counted along to the sound of the clickety clack playing in his head. A stiff jostle shook him, and his eyes flashed open. He held his wristwatch to his face. Six thirty a.m. again. Monday, the twelfth of August. His gaze shifted to the seat before him. The same blonde woman with paper dry skin sat in it. The fox fur trim of her mauve coat wrapped tight around her neck as she stared ahead. Unmoving and silent. The conductor in his blue and gold uniform hovered above him; arm outstretched holding a ticket stamp. Frozen in time. The other passengers: the baby screaming on its mother’s lap, the balding man, shoving a suitcase in the overhead compartment while papers hung mid-air where they’d slipped from the space, the old woman in the straw hat and flowered shawl, and the bright yellow parakeet in the little gold cage on her lap; all were soundless and still. The only thing moving, living besides himself, was the eternally changing landscape through the train window. It twisted and turned until his scrambled egg breakfast forced its way up his throat. A bright sunny meadow in full spring bloom here. A narrow, sleet covered bridge spanning a black bottomless pass there. All changing in the blink of an eye or the flip of a switch, like his slide projector for the history class he taught. He’d lost count of the times he’d closed his eyes; certain when they opened, he’d be back safe in his four-poster bed while his wife, Betsy, snoozed peacefully beside him. Every time, he found himself on this train. In this seat, while the vehicle careened along its everchanging track.
By Elizabeth Diehl3 years ago in Horror
Anathema
Veracity Wake up Slim The haze lifted from behind my eyes as the reality of my surroundings came rushing in. We were in a train car. About the size of a bedroom with yellow and white benches lining the wall. By we there were five of us that I could count.
By Brittany Taylor 3 years ago in Horror
