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 Mysterious Mr. Willow
Hard work continues to brew in these restless nights, the pounding of steel mashing against each other with tons of cranks turning and creaking echo throughout this cramped neighborhood. A nightmare at first, for sure, but it's almost as if it becomes a lovely symphony. A collection of instruments that all have a part to play to keep a song alive. In this case, Aaron Milano lives for the song, he glorifies himself as the grand conductor for a new masterpiece: America.
By the_real OGJ5 years ago in Horror
Blackout
The light through the hotel curtains was blinding, pulling her out of a dream and into a hangover. She draped her arm over her eyes, trying to block the sun’s evil rays. Head pounding, stomach rolling, mind foggy – this is why she never drank. Her skin also felt tight and itchy, like she had fallen in a mud puddle and it had dried and started to flake. Even worse, her mouth felt gross and dry – she needed water.
By Courtney Pettersson5 years ago in Horror
The Omen
Mrs. Katherine, could you please tell me what took place the day your husband went missing? “Why Certainly, and please, just Katherine is fine. Would you like somethin to drink?” Oh no, no thank you. Please begin. “The year was 1867, in the crisp days of Fall in October. I fondly remember the wind that blew up there and how it would sweep passed the trees on the mountain side as if it were in a bloomin romance, teasin the leaves tryin to get them to fall for it. I was in my mid-twenties, and still living in the mountains of North Carolina with my husband Thomas. A kind man, with a stone-like expression he seemed to never be able to rid himself of unless he was around me. You would never be able to tell just how good of a man he was unless you knew him like I did. He just wasn’t very good with people ya see.
By Cody Woods5 years ago in Horror
The Owl's TV Program
The barn owl, displaced from his native home, sat perched on a branch outside a window and watched the creature within. There was a lot of noise in the room, and the owl decided to ignore it. None of the words made sense, nothing formed into a sensible pattern, so it was unimportant. What it witnessed was this strangely-tinted man storm into his room, grab a small box, and flop into his own perch.
By Denise Glickler5 years ago in Horror
Cursed by It
My brother married a witch. I don't know if that's politically correct to say in these times and I definitely don't like to offend people. Okay, she's a bitch. Anyway. I was stuck in Texas with my Mom a few years ago and desperate to get away. Get anywhere, I guess, to the point that I asked my brother to come rescue me. He drove his work van all the way from Jacksonville, Florida to Houston, Texas to get me. My brother is a very good person. He got to spend some quality time with my Mom while he was there so they both enjoyed that. The morning of, we left early to try and get the trip finished in one day and still be able to sight see. We stopped in Alabama to see the ship that was at port and turned into a museum. We had a really good time. Except.... My brother talked incessantly the entire trip. Very loudly and very erratically. An hour after us hitting the road, I had to get him to pull over to get me a case of beer. His frenzied behavior was giving me a lot of anxiety. I was thinking maybe he was happy to see me. He was. But a couple of years later I started realizing it was something else entirely. Something that I would never imagine. Could never imagine. Something to make your skin crawl, lose your hair in clumps, and see blood come out of your body. Literally.
By Tracy R Sowell5 years ago in Horror
The Minds Nest
Darkness, Void, Reality What is it that hides in the shadows? Is it darkness? Is it light? Is it the complexity of life and death? I’ve faced what lingers in the shadows. It is no monster or creature of the void. It is not darkness or light. The thing that hides in the shadow is a more complex being of intelligent species of our innate selves. A being of great overture of reality. The minds nest of memories forgotten or lost. Hidden in the depths of despair. What is it that it needs to hide in the shadows? Is there some other being of complexities that cannot shape the reality of our own world? Or is it us who hide such atrocities in the shadows to be forgotten or lost; only to incarnate a much more powerful creature that the void has made whole. Whatever the reason or cause I journey into this atmospheric shadow to find answers of the unknown. I am my minds nest. A creation of quadratic simplicity. The keeper of all reality. Whatever convulses, convulses through me. The crumbling foundation has begun its separation. A void and its darkness firmament upon my crest. In the darkness it waits for prey to travel on a lost path. I lost you and you lost me. How can I move on into the void if such perils are not yet poised. Come with me and see what you find. Inside the darkness you will bind. A treasure yet not known upon the crest of unborn sewn.
By Dietrick Horstman5 years ago in Horror
Wanting
The small cabin seemed to get smaller and smaller to Dan Fields. For the past six days, he had been stuck in the cabin waiting for the monstrous snow to melt and free him from the frozen prison. Why did he run off to the mountains in the middle of February? At least he was smart enough to stock up on water. He had also chopped up enough firewood the first day he had arrived. What he didn’t have was enough food. Even though the fire was cozy, it was not enough to keep him warm. Wearing his hunting coat and gloves, he got up from the oval rug in front of the fireplace. Opening the fridge, he eyed the one remaining case of water, next to a slice of cheese, a bottle of bourbon and an open pack of hot dogs. He picked up the hot dogs, stopped and listened. Once again, he had the feeling that he was being watched. He was pretty sure cabin fever was the cause, but that did not ease his rising anxiety. He shook his head, opened the hot dogs and pulled out one of the floppy processed wieners. He threw the rest of the package back in the fridge and grabbed the bottle of bourbon. Settling back on his warm spot on the rug, he bit off half of his cold entrée. So nice, he thought, to be able to eat without a nagging wife telling him to stop smacking his food. He was a man, he should be able to eat however he wanted. Too bad he had to be hundreds of miles away from his home to do it.
By Starla Brunson5 years ago in Horror
