psychological
Mind games taken way too far; explore the disturbing genre of psychological thrillers that make us question our perception of sanity and reality.
SleepWalker
Chapter 1 Agony
By Clark Wallace4 years ago in Horror
Wealth
The crisp air blew leaves onto the floor as Adam walked into his apartment building. He stood for a moment, wiping the outside from his jacket before closing the door, then looked at the wall of brass mailboxes. At eye level, number six glared at him. He unlocked the little square plate to find a stack of envelopes waiting, and he pushed out a long sigh as he snatched them up.
By Ben Johnson4 years ago in Horror
When You Leave...
I have compared sitting in this hallway to a fair purgatory destination for the worst kind of people. A thick and almost nauseating stench of old oak, medicine, and sanitation cleansers waged war on my nasal cavity. The anxiety on this floor alone was enough all by itself.
By Yvette Couvson4 years ago in Horror
Thirst
A tiny ray of light hits my eye, pulling me from a terrible sleep. I turn my head towards the window and open my eyes. Another day. An even day. I look back to the sandstone brick next to my bed and dig my thumbnail into it. Today should be an X day. My fingertips graze over the other marks, twenty-four of them neatly marching along the same brick. Twelve of them with an ‘X’ hovering above. Every other day without fail. X days are the worst and best days all at once.
By Sarah DuPerron4 years ago in Horror
Forgotten Darkness
I had never thought about leaving my tiny coastal town, that was until I had met the man of my dreams. He always left for the winter for work as the paving season ended in Washington and was just beginning in Arizona. I had never gone along with him as I still had a daughter in high school. She had recently graduated and had gone off to university. This was the year I would finally accompany him for the winter. We took our time driving and spent 4 days driving and stopping at all the touristy places along the way. I instantly fell in love with the house he had down there. It was a little big for the both of us, but it had been in the family for a few generations now. I thought that my life was going in the direction I always wanted it to go. My kids were grown and successful in school, I had found the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with and I was loving every minute of it. I settled quickly into a nice routine just as I had at home. Then I realized that this was my home too. Jeff was gone for most of the day working and I had the time to get to know the little town I found myself in. I thought life couldn't get any better than this, boy was I ever wrong. One day while I was doing laundry the hose to the washer sprung a leak and was spraying all over behind it. I turned it off, unplugged it and dragged it away from the wall. As I was removing the hose so I could get a replacement, I noticed the water had been running down under the wall. It was gurgling and echoing as if there was a drain behind the wall, one that had to go down a long way by the sound of it. As I was trying to figure out how it was making that noise, I realized there was what looked like a small door that looked like it had been painted over many times. When Jeff got home I told him about what I had found. He had never known about the door and was just as curious as I was. So the next day while he was at work, I spent the day chipping the paint away until I cleared the door. It was nailed shut and I couldn't pry the nails out on my own. Jeff got home and pried the nails out for me and we took a peek inside. There was a set of stairs that led down into the darkness below. His family had owned the property since the mid to late 20s and not one of them had known about the door. His parents were as surprised as we were, saying they bought it from another mining family. The family they bought the place from sold it in a hurry and left town. The next day my curiosity got the best of me and I tried to get the door to open. There wasn't a knob or anything to get hold of to open it. The doorknob had been removed and filled in. So once again I had to wait for Jeff to get home. He drilled through the spot where the knob would have been and somehow pulled the door open. The smell that came out was so strong it made us gag and choke. Worried it was gas that had at one time killed several miners when they had broken through to gas pockets.
By Mysticpyrate4 years ago in Horror
Clock Out
The clock hits 9am. I meet my day with the familiar drone. The buzzes and whirs of clockwork movement encompasses me on all sides, the tipping and tapping of rhythmic typing provides the metronome to which I think. I sit at my desk, staring at the pulsating screen in front of me awaiting another day's influx of customer inquiries and complaints. I scour through the subjects of the first set of emails on my screen, categorizing them by the pre-prepared responses that I use to reply to them. I slowly read down:
By Connor Meakin4 years ago in Horror
STOP!
Running, running, running. The night is pitch, a blanket of darkness that engulfs the landscape and blinds those who dare to tread. Don’t go out after dark, they say, for even that which is known becomes strange. They want to scare us, to keep us away, but away from what? The darkness cannot hurt you anymore then the day.
By Glory Anna4 years ago in Horror
What Lurks In Shadows
What, exactly, is it that scares us in the night? What is it that so totally envelops a person in shadowy darkness, reaching through the darkest corners of the mind, and pulls out monstrosities so real, so incredibly detailed and hideous? Is it our imagination, or is it perhaps a shred of a memory, long forgotten in the recesses of the human brain? Do we all have a basic distrust of the darkness? What is it that is hiding, right at this very moment, even mere feet away from you, as you squeeze your eyes shut, pulling the covers tighter to your chin, and tucking your feet carefully underneath the blanket, so as not to be exposed to some terribly clawed, foul demon? What could possibly be lurking outside, behind the old rusty shed, in the blanketed darkness that can't be illuminated by the low watt lightbulb on your porch, while you quickly and silently huff down a good old cigarette, the last before a fit of troubled dreams? Its eyes a sickly yellow, maybe, or perhaps its teeth sharp as a razor, one eye dark and bloodshot, the other missing, as with the rest of the skin on its face, claws rapping softly against the shed as a tree branch would do, lulling you into a false sense of security right before making its killer debut?
By Tatyana Tieken4 years ago in Horror
Death By Chocolate
Cole lurches awake in his kitchen with a skull-pounding headache. Gone was the peaceful dream of his mother pulling out a chocolate birthday cake from the oven. It feels like a thousand needles are jamming his eyes as he peels them open, still smelling chocolate cake. As his eyes adjusted to the bright lights, the outline of a petite girl standing by the oven emerged.
By Britt Blomster 4 years ago in Horror
