psychological

Mind games taken way too far; explore the disturbing genre of psychological thrillers that make us question our perception of sanity and reality.

Death was always apart of the Bargain
For the record, death was always part of the bargain. If that isn’t chilling enough, the woods between the pond and lake, evoke feelings of dread. State my name for the record? What’s in a name, identity, meaning, tradition? Undeniably names hold a great deal of pride, passion and pain. My name is Southern Yuppie Laurent. My father, an insatiable drunk who held his liquor quite well until he didn’t, named me. I assure you, as unfortunate as it has been for me to be called S’uppie, my entire life, it is my legal name. This is not for entertainment or enjoyment. This is to clear the air, set the record straight and answer directly any and all questions. My brother Jude is not tragically misunderstood, he is a chilling murderer. My mother will convince you otherwise, be careful. The statement posed was, “everyone loves a good horror story.” Certainly this is not a factual statement. My life is a horror story, I have not loved it. Is it a good horror story? You tell me. The wickedness that lurks inside my brother, scares his own shadows away. Yes, I meant shadows, one for each dark and demented personality trait he either possess or is possessed with. You decide. One of his imaginary friends ran away from home to get away from my brother Jude. His nightmares are too afraid to haunt him. Exaggerating, sir, I don’t have to exaggerate, create or imagine evil. I lived with, slept beside, broke bread with and shook its hand. Depravity, I can call it by name, and that name is brother. Could I share an example? I can do better, I can include a story or seven. You decide. The question is, do you have a psychotherapist on speed dial? You’ll need mental backup.
By Wren4 years ago in Horror
The Eyes
There were many summers, before the last, that were flush with happy moments. No one knows why the fateful summer of 68’ at Cedar Hill ended so badly. The world at that point was twisted in many ways. Martin Luther King was assassinated. As well as Bobby Kennedy. The food yield wasn't keeping up to the population boom and hunger was a growing concern. Permanent food stamps were placed after Nixon became president. It seemed as if the whole world was upside down. Cedar Hill was not an exemption from the haunting year of 1968.
By Megan Riches4 years ago in Horror
Blackout
Have you ever felt like you’ve fainted into reality? His tense voice whispering prayers to a god who surely could not hear him, or who perhaps refused to listen, was the first sound I heard upon regaining consciousness. I couldn’t make out, nor felt concern to listen to, what he mumbled behind me. He rowed the boat, creaking the oars in rhythm with the waves that lapped at its sides, in rhythm with my throbbing head. It was too dark to tell whether my head was moistened with sweat or blood–with that throbbing it could have been either. As I looked out in front of me at the darkened dunes of the ocean’s ebb and flow, a subtle breeze wafted the stench of dying sea life, and despite the moonless night, no stars could be seen other than those that hung in the darkness of the slumbering city from where we came.
By berick reims4 years ago in Horror
The Writing on the Water
The Writing on the Water The Others would find us out soon enough. At least, that’s what Mother warned in our Final Days. She was getting weak. I knew she wouldn’t make it much longer.
By Seeli Summers4 years ago in Horror
The Death of the Bird
It was an open casket funeral, and frankly the idea revolted her. The girl had drowned in a lake and it had taken them nearly forty-eight hours to fish her out. True, those two days had been from the middle of the very coldest month of the year, and everyone who was returning from their trip to the casket was saying things like “she could almost be asleep” and “she really was such a beautiful child.” But to Naomi the idea of actually going up to the front of the room and seeing the thing that had once been her cousin filled her with dread. As the cross-country train had carried her here, she could not shake the image from her mind: Madeline’s little body at the bottom of the lake, her hair drifting in the gloom, her blank eyes gazing upwards as those two days passed. Though, it had been so long since she’d visited that Naomi could not even picture her face.
By Tim Oslington4 years ago in Horror
Reconciliation
“Are you a good person?” The child’s voice is small but curious. Up until a few seconds before I was hugging my knees on this rocky beach, listening to the waves, alone in the dark but also relishing in the kind of loneliness that exists when you think everyone else is asleep. It’s easy to believe you are the only person awake at this moment in the entire universe.
By Cassidy Barker4 years ago in Horror
All for the Love of you
Olivia set down a large, brown towel, “Time to get out.” “Marvin wants two more minutes.” Tommy replied while holding up a blue starfish.
By Anon4 years ago in Horror
Way Back When
I loved my dad. We would spend hours and hours together fishing, walking, playing football. My brother would sometimes join us but more often than not it was just the two of us.
By Annette Friar4 years ago in Horror
Blue Waters
It was a hot summer day. The air was dry, and the grass had that peculiar smell like it was about to set ablaze. The local children were splashing and playing in the lake nearby, as my grandmother was hanging out the washing with her hard, slender hands. She had greying, shoulder-length hair and wore a faded floral dress. She loved summer. It held memories of happier times, and was when her husband was away hunting. She looked out over the golden field and breathed a deep sigh of relief,
By Matt Malone4 years ago in Horror
The Underground Water Fairy River
The Underground Water Fairy River By Sherry Anne Podolchuk
By Lady Sherry-Anne Dow Podolchuk4 years ago in Horror
Lost
I stood at the edge of the pond. The tips of my toes touched the water. The sun still low on the horizon. I wanted desperately to drift away into her embrace. You would be welcome here. I would provide a home for you. Her still surface soothed me. I wondered if she had welcomed anyone else into her depths.
By A. G. White4 years ago in Horror
Victoria's Pass
Every year, the second weekend of October marks our adventurous trip up the Tennessee Smokies. Nestled just 30 feet from Lake Victoria Pass, the cabins in the mountains of West Virginia has been our go to family destination for the past ten years. My wife, Equinda, and the kids consider all the amenities and scenic sites to be just a small slice of heaven and look forward to the week-long excursion; however, I’ve grown complacent of the trip and feel a bit defeated that my vacation idea was shot down by the family committee. Nevertheless, the truck is packed, the gps is set, and I've taken my position behind the cockpit. The venture starts as planned for the most part, you know, stopping every five minutes to let the kids go to the restroom, or playing the usual game of follow the leader in every convenience store on I-75. What do they call it; “Deja vu” every action of the trip seems routine and a replica of years past. I glance up at the upcoming sign and it reads, Lake Victoria Pass 75 miles, exit 1 mile. This is the part of the journey where I clinch up and put on my reading glasses. The next 75 miles is what I’ve nicknamed the Devil’s Pass. The terrain switches from a four lane US highway, to a 2 lane road wrapped around a serpentine of mountainous wooded forest covered with snow and cliff hangers. The time is now 4pm and I know I’ve only got about an hour of daylight ahead of me.
By Lamont Renzo Bracy4 years ago in Horror