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 Farmhouse
I’ve never been scared of the dark. Growing up on a farm in the middle of Nebraska, I grew up with the stars and moon illuminating the night. Only the clouds would attempt to dampen the shimmering lights of the night sky, and even then, they never fully succeeded. Just blanketed the glistening stars.
By Atticus Greyson4 years ago in Horror
Don't Follow
The air is cool and arid, dry leaves crunch beneath your feet. Moonlight blankets the tall pine trees and the old, worn dirt path that lays before you. The fine needles of the trees look rather softer on this night, almost as if you would feel the soft fur of a feline brushing against you, if you were to brush by them.
By Adara Cambier4 years ago in Horror
What Have I Done
Everything was blissfully perfect. There was no where to go and no where he’d rather be. His safe haven was whatever he chose it to be; sometimes he liked deserts, other times he preferred jungles. Wherever he was, he was content with being alone. His own company was all that he ever needed because no one would understand him better. He desired no one, and no one desired him. He was happy. He was content. He was everywhere and no where. Everything was utterly, blissfully, perfect.
By Victoria Cage4 years ago in Horror
Omen
Naked, exhausted, and bloody, I ran. Nearby, an owl hooted. I grimaced and pumped my legs faster. Owls were an omen. Harbingers of death. I changed direction and jerked to a halt behind a large pine tree. My lungs burned and I tried to swallow ragged breaths, begging my body to quiet itself. I listened intently to the woods around me. Wind whispered through branches and rattled the dying leaves. A branch snapped in the distance. I could feel my pulse in the cuts on my bare feet. Blood dripped slowly down the shallow gash in my hip. The sweat was already evaporating off of my bare skin, leaving me sticky and cold. I gripped my wound, as if the hunters could find me by scent alone. I was lucky the bullet had only grazed me. The woman running next to me had not been so lucky.
By Samantha Mackey4 years ago in Horror
At the Stroke of Midnight
It was still outside as the wind whistled against the barn doors. Making them rattle amongst the silence. A young girl asleep in a pile of hay awoke to the sound much like a skeleton’s bone-shaking. She pulled the thick blanket laid over her away and yawned heavily. Rubbing an eyes at a time, she searched around the flashes of darkness.
By Grace Lovett4 years ago in Horror
Drive of Terror
The low gas light brightens the dash of a red Chevy Malibu as it steals all the attention of the sleepy driver. It's now almost 1am and Ray decided two days ago to begin a cross country trip with his girlfriend Desiree in hopes of saving their relationship. They both have accused each other of not showing enough attention and they both feel less and less sparks as each day passes by. She believes he has fallen out of love and is more worried about his career than making her happy. He believes the love for his career and his sacrifice should be enough but it isn't. Finding the balance between work and his life has been challenging for him because he refuses to be complacent. As with her, she feels ignored and taken for granted. After years of arguing and not seeing eye to eye, this voyage with just the two of them was the last hope in saving their dying relationship.
By ET Productions 4 years ago in Horror
The Neighbors
I sat there taking in the sounds and smells around me. Most of them were familiar to me while some were unpleasant and certainly unwelcomed. It was freezing out and the hoodie and beanie I choose for my morning escape were not doing the job. But despite the smells and the chill of the morning, I was in heaven. Do you hear that? Silence. Absolute silence.
By Crystal Lay4 years ago in Horror
Confessions From The Recession
Despite the early evening November hour, the sky was pitch black. Unlike the summer months when daylight made walking home from work a pleasurable soothing experience filled with life this darken experience seemed to acknowledge the fact the date was between death and frost biting coldness. Peering up the cement staircase decorated in artistic graffiti Chapman found a garbage pail to throw away a crumpled up pink slip given to him by bosses before leaving the CBC television stage.
By Marc OBrien4 years ago in Horror
