psychological
Mind games taken way too far; explore the disturbing genre of psychological thrillers that make us question our perception of sanity and reality.
No More Light
I suppose I was delaying the inevitable. I appeared optimistic to those around me; but inside I was terrified. Betty knew it. She could see it in my eyes, always could. Those goddamned poodles. “We will get through this,” they said. “No one left behind,” they said. A bunch of bullshit. They were shutting off our power today. 30 minutes. The only thing that kept us alive was the power. No power means no more light, no more water and heat, no more appliances, and most importantly, no more electric gates. Those gates they put up around the city is the only reason we aren’t dead. The only barrier between us and those things. Whatever they are, we hadn’t got a good look at em’. We would soon.
By Thomas Parker 5 years ago in Horror
The Cottage
The thick smell of sulfur in the air mixed with the already constant damp of her grandmother's cottage had Briony longing for the dry heat she was used to. The house sat on top of a natural spring, and after all these years the egg-smelling water seemed to overtake everything else. She’d only arrived that morning and already, she was desperate to leave.
By Jade Lewis5 years ago in Horror
Bad Trip
It was dark outside, dark and cold. I had just gotten out of work. God, I hate my job. Mr. Pardo was busting my balls all day for not restocking the movies last night. Maximum Overdrive had just come out a couple of weeks ago, and it was flying off the shelves. Or it would be if I had put them on the shelves, but I didn’t. But that’s in the past, it was time to go home. I started my walk to my car, a 1969 Maserati Spyder. It was a gift from my father for my 16th birthday. It was kind of old by the time I got it, but man did I love it. It was pretty chilly out, but that’s nothing new for Chicago. I just pulled my jacket closer to me and continued walking.
By Damian A. Landon5 years ago in Horror
The Carmine house
The Carmine house wasn’t something they talked about. Throughout the entire village, not a word was whispered about it. Not since that fateful day in early January, not since the old man died. Not since the last time the pond had frozen over. It had stayed normal even in the coldest of winters after that. They had both died, the man and the daughter, but no one would say anything about her. Selina Carmine was the murderer, they said. Or thought. No one talked about the Carmine house. So when Derby Micheal Stout saw the ad in the paper, he was surprised. An unfortunate name, indeed. Especially seeming as it applied to him more than he might’ve liked. He was a short, somewhat heavyset young man, who had strong morals he never mentioned. He would never turned down a challenge, or eat shortcake, or hit a lady. He was courteous and quiet, but when he got angry, it was funny to watch. He was somewhat handsome, but his weight threw him off, and every female in the village ran when he tried to approach them, for he was very awkward to have a conversation with. He had a little sister, Mary Angelica, who was constantly drowning in the creek, or cutting her foot on rock, or tripping over something or another. This made it very difficult to live with her. So he spent as much time out of the house as he could, leaving his mother at the mercy of Mary and her other six children. But, he told himself, it was her choice to have so many children in the first place. He worked at a very boring job, carrying meal back and forth from the mill to the town. He was not married, or in any romance at all, but he had a good friend named Derrick, and a good enemy named Dan. He hated Dan for taking his first job at the mill, and he liked Derrick for numerous things that are far too long to go into. He often stubbed his toes on rocks, and his shoes were beaten down and dirty, but he always kept a respectful appearance from the ankles up. He was usually very conserved and hardly would ever show his emotions, so his surprised at the paper must have been great, for he gave a full blown gasp.
By And I am Nightmare5 years ago in Horror
The Alleyway
As I walked through the labyrinth that was my neighbourhood, I adjusted my headphones and lowered the volume of my music to focus on the sounds that I could hear around me. The sounds of dogs barking on the terraces of moulding flats...Pounding of footballs on the fences of back gardens...The static of the radio blasting reggae music on a Thursday afternoon. I was almost home, I just needed to turn this corner safely and it was a short 3 minute walk from there, but then I heard the scuffling and grunting of teenagers play fighting in the alley way. Calmly, I thought 'Okay, maybe I should just turn back and go the long way home. After all, I was not that late home...right?'. As I started to turn around slowly a familiar voice called my name from the corner, and the sounds of scuffling stopped. 'How had anyone seen me?' I thought. My older brother's friend came jogging around the corner and proceeded to greet me with a fist bump. Nervously I replied "Hey what's going on?", and he of course assured me that he and his friends were 'just playing around'. Soon his friends joined the conversation and they all seemed so cool, I felt my shoulders loosening and my posture became more relaxed as I was sure that these people were...safe.
By Claudia Baffour-Ansah5 years ago in Horror
The Dungeons of Numnige
The bastards that lowered me into this place at least had the courtesy of removing my shackles. I suppose that was done so that they could keep their irons. I'd be a bloody fool to believe that they did it for my sake. I turned my gaze upward at the small man-sized hole in the ceiling. It was so far from my reach that it appeared like the sun, though it was dwindling; setting. Gentle light flickered in from above as a grate was sat atop it. I heard the sound echo through this chamber as the door above creaked shut. And then. Silence.
By RedemptionVA5 years ago in Horror
Crawl Space
Most people live a hard life. Or a good life depending on how you look at it. You have children without shoes, food, or water on one side of the globe. And on the other, you have people addicted to drugs and self misery; although living a “comfortable” life of easy essentials and commodities.
By Serena Hardy5 years ago in Horror
