psychological
Mind games taken way too far; explore the disturbing genre of psychological thrillers that make us question our perception of sanity and reality.
Separation
Thomas thought the reminders would help. The scent of crisp pine, snowfall, and brisk winter winds. The visionary blanket of frosted green as he took in the mountains from the overlook. The feeling of complete isolation in the center of a world that revolved around constant communication. He thought he could handle it, but he was wrong.
By Tess Plona8 years ago in Horror
Samaritan
The first thing he noticed was the cold. The air hung over him, motionless and icy. He felt the stiffness in his joints before he even had a chance to move his body. A thick cloud of drowsiness filled his head, making it hard to keep his eyes open on his first attempt at assessing the scene around him. An alarmingly sharp pain pierced his chest as he moved to sit up. Agony wracked his torso and he was sent gasping back down onto the linoleum. Breathless, he blinked rapidly, fighting to clear the blurriness from his eyes. The center of his chest stung with a pain that radiated from his sternum, and he wrapped his arms around himself as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. He was in a strange room—a long, rectangular space with high ceilings and fluorescent lights that flickered every so often, casting jumping shadows against the plain, bleached walls. A few chairs and tables were strewn about; some carelessly knocked over as if a group of people had hastily fled, and some set up in neat lines with clean metal chairs pushed in neatly around the rectangular tables. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, his lips moving soundlessly as he tried to work up the energy to call out.
By Bailey Johnston8 years ago in Horror
We All Watch the Classics...
Yea, yea, yea... Black and white... Psycho... Thriller.. Horror? So, do we treat these masterpieces the way they deserve to be treated? Here's a little overview of all the details I find significant in Hitchcock's signature style of filmmaking (in close reference to Vertigo).
By Regina Falange8 years ago in Horror
Hope
There, standing in his study with a fire throwing his shadow behind him onto a wooden plank floor beneath him, books in the stacks surrounding him, standing over a dark, wooden table like a sad bishop over an altar. Stately, silent, staring into the blackness of his cup of coffee that laid on the table. It seems to reflect a truth his eyes deny. Tulle Mason is his name, a man of sixty who has deep but sparse wrinkles that contour his face with deeply ash-filled, brown eyes. His hair is slicked back and holds reminders of his black past while also being sprinkled with this ever-graying future. Dressed in a three-piece black suit with a white vest and untied, gray bowtie.
By Taylor Young8 years ago in Horror
Scariest Haunted Hospitals in the World
Hospitals have a very ironic atmosphere about them, if you think about it. These are buildings that are meant to house life-saving technology and be centers where people heal themselves. They are supposed to be places where people can seek out medical attention that could save their lives—but yet, the vast majority of people in modernized countries will die in a hospital.
By Ossiana Tepfenhart8 years ago in Horror
My Dreams; They Haunt Me
I walk around my gloomy house feeling the shiver of a cold spirit following my every turn. The floor boards creek under my every step, followed by the echo of my haunting shadow whom I never see. As I enter the hallway to my room, I quicken my steps in order to hopefully lose the ghost I seem to have present, or in my mind. As I reach my door, I can hear it approaching; taking its time as it seems to be struggling to follow me. As I enter my room, I shut the door and lock it; the steps are now on the other side, unable to cross the barrier I've put up.
By Stefanie Meldrum8 years ago in Horror
Consequences of Deviation
Colbert Wells had done nothing particularly exciting in his 38 revolutions around the sun. After 38 years he had found no passion, no love and a job in a gray office to match his gray life. He had few interests and exceedingly odd ones at that. He enjoyed the absence of others. He enjoyed organizing and reorganizing his shelves. He enjoyed blank canvases and empty containers. The only thing that really ignited the fire surrounding his heart were his trips to the grocery. He felt, what he may describe, as an incredible thrill, walking down the aisles. Observing the pristine organization of the shelves, the hum of the fridges. The harsh lights that shone almost white bounced off the tile floors in a way that made his heart skip a beat. He craved these strolls through the aisles, sometimes only looking at the stock. The fridges filled with fish sticks, frozen pizzas and whatever else. Usually, he didn’t even buy anything. He just browsed, often for hours. He went absurdly early. When the floors had been freshly cleaned and bounced light off of them even more effectively. Before the hordes of people poured into the store, mussing about with the organized shelves, pushing and moving the items, their kids wailing on the floors or drooling in the carriages. These things made him suppress bile that rose in the back of his throat. These people ruined his favorite place.
By Clove Cameron8 years ago in Horror
Thoughts From Disturbed Patience File 1
On days like these, I am reminded who I really am. Cold. Damp. Scary. On the inside nothing but a core of what is. Last night, Mr. Cole told me he and his helpers were going to make the sounds go away. These sounds, these noises. The damp, cold, scary screams and whispers inside my ears.
By Nathan Wheeler8 years ago in Horror
