psychological
Mind games taken way too far; explore the disturbing genre of psychological thrillers that make us question our perception of sanity and reality.
Whispers of a Fictional Horror
In the fog-draped town of Hollowmere, nestled in the English moors in 2023, the line between reality and fiction blurred like ink on wet paper. For Nora, a 29-year-old writer seeking solace from her unraveling life, Hollowmere’s isolation was a refuge. But the crumbling manor she rented held secrets—whispers of a horror born from stories never meant to escape the page. This is the tale of Nora’s descent into a nightmare woven from her own words, and the chilling truth that some fictions are too alive to stay bound.
By Shohel Rana8 months ago in Horror
The House That Whispers Mercy
In the year 1847, beneath the silent shadows of a decaying village in Southern Anatolia, stood a house no one dared name aloud — for it was believed the house whispered. Whispered not to ears, but to souls. It stood alone, like a punished child at the edge of the earth, cloaked in vines and memory.
By Muhammad Abdullah8 months ago in Horror
The Vanishing of Kaelvik: Alaska’s Forgotten Horror
At the heart of Alaska's Seward Peninsula, where tundra meets towering pines, lies Kaelvik, an abandoned mining village once popular in the 1920s that now remains unknown on maps and whispered about with fear. Once known for thriving mining operations during that era, Kaelvik has since been abandoned due to a shadow-like monster called Tsu'nak that caused its sudden abandonment by Alutiiq tribe members and abandoned by time itself. Being drawn by Alaska's mysteries I decided to uncover these secrets myself and what I found had me questioning whether some places would have been better left forgotten altogether - this terrifying tale of Kaelvik remains Alaska's forgotten horror tale.
By Robert Brown8 months ago in Horror
The Room That Shouldn't Exist
Samantha Winters had just turned 24 when she signed the lease on Apartment 3B in the Ashgrove Complex. It was one of those older buildings—red-bricked, slightly crooked, with creaky staircases and ivy crawling up the sides like green veins.
By Silas Blackwood8 months ago in Horror
Pixie Dust: Part Two. Content Warning.
The visitation room of the county jail was a cold, sterile and repulsive place. A place that made my whole body tense just by being there. Though it was a nice change being on the other side of the glass, and not in handcuffs.
By Stephanie Wright8 months ago in Horror
The Girl Behind the Curtain: A Sleepover Secret That Should've Stayed Buried
It was supposed to be just a harmless sleepover. Me, my little sister Kylie, and my two best friends: Alina and Jess. A Friday night filled with pizza, TikTok dances, and gossip under a pink star projector in my bedroom.
By Manisha James8 months ago in Horror
The shadow. AI-Generated.
Amtola was the name of the quiet village, which was far from the city, surrounded by ancient trees, and had an eerie silence. At the village’s edge stood a centuries-old, crumbling mansion: Chandan Villa. Even during the day, people avoided going near it. The road that leads there was completely empty at night. A young writer by the name of Jack came from the city about a year ago, looking for ideas for his next book. The tranquil village seemed perfect for him because he valued solitude. However, he had no idea what lay ahead. Jack chose to stay in Chandan Villa itself. He was warned by the villagers, "Sir, that house has a curse on it. People enter but never exit. Teertho replied with a grin, "There are no ghosts." The mind alone can create fear. The first night went by without a hitch. The second did as well. However, on the third night, he was awoken by an odd creaking sound. He looked at his watch—it was 2:00 a.m. Grabbing his flashlight, he stepped out of his room. In the dim moonlight, the corridor was faintly visible. Suddenly, he noticed a shadowy figure in the far corner. It had no face or distinct features—just a dark silhouette, completely still yet clearly aware of his presence. Without a sound, it glided toward the old well… and vanished. The next morning, Jack asked an elderly villager, “Does anyone still use that well?” "That's where Rose, the zamindar's daughter, took her own life," the man responded. A cruel man had orchestrated her marriage. One night, she jumped into the well. Since then, her shadow has been seen wandering around. People say she’s still searching for her lost love…” Jack made the decision to go back to the well the next night out of a sense of empathy and curiosity. The shadow reappeared, this time more clearly, as he waited in silence. A woman with sad eyes and long, disheveled hair in a white, wet sari. Jack calmly asked, "Who are you?" despite his fear. The figure didn't say anything. She turned slowly toward the well. Just before disappearing into the mist, Jack heard a faint whisper: “My love… Will you return…?” He realized that this was more than just a haunting; it was the agony of a soul entwined in love that never came. The next day, he searched the village archives and discovered that Rose had fallen in love with a humble music teacher. The zamindar, her father, was against the relationship. Rumor had it the teacher had vanished mysteriously. Many people thought that the zamindar had killed him. Determined to help Rose’s soul find peace, Jack returned that night with an old sitar. Sitting beside the well under the moonlight, he began playing the teacher’s favorite raag. The melody drifted through the night like a prayer. Soon, the shadow returned. She moved closer—her eyes now filled with longing, not grief. Suddenly, a gust of wind swept across the courtyard. From deep within the well, a voice echoed: "Rose... I'm here..." Jack watched in awe as another shadowy figure emerged—tall, gentle, and familiar to her. Slowly, the two shadows got closer to one another. The moonlight became more brilliant. Like mist blending into the dawn, the shadows embraced in the stillness and slowly rose into the sky together. The next morning, when Jack shared what had happened, an old villager said softly, “What we couldn’t do for a hundred years, you have done, sir. You brought peace to a restless soul.” Jack didn’t spend another night in that house. He had come in search of a story, but he found a truth instead: some spirits don’t want to harm—they simply seek peace. And true love… endures, even beyond death.
By Mohammad Shariful Islam8 months ago in Horror
