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 Tethered Souls Of The False God
The house was stiflingly hot. A hot that prompts deep breaths to know there is air in the room, a hot that you think moving might relieve, only to encounter a resounding stiffness of the hot air. Mary-Beth lay on her twin mattress in the bare room, staring at the ceiling. A reality she was so adapted to there was little left to feel about it. She lifted her nude body from the sheet slowly and let her feet touch the wood floor of the old farmhouse. The floorboards were warm already. This is how she began her ritual. She spoke aloud as if Dale Fogs her bonded soul was still in this realm. “Good morning” came out of her mouth like a fastball, her voice echoing against the wood and plaster with no soft surface to catch it but the mattress. “Today I hope the sign is in the sky.” There was no one physically present to respond to the request. She looked out the window and saw the clear blue Colorado sky and the plains sprawling with grasses and tumbleweeds and dust. Despite her plea to the universe, she did not look to the sky. She would have to look out 3 times before she could expect a sign from him, and even then, it was possible she would see nothing today. In fact, the signs had all but ceased.
By Kelly Morris5 years ago in Horror
Kuriosum
It was Tuesday evening and Roger sat on a subway bench by 47-50 Rockefeller Center transfixed by his right arm. It was nearly six o’clock, his entire right arm was now a solid piece of stone, and he found forming the next thought to be increasingly difficult. The subway was relatively quiet, especially for this time of night when the rush should be on. People walked with their faces buried in their phones, entering and exiting the trains, all the while seemingly oblivious to the speakers above announcing the coming and going of the next trains, and even of each other.
By Scott Perreault5 years ago in Horror
Here Kitty Kitty
Here Kitty Kitty She woke up in a coma. Mind slow, face hot, lips burning as the rest of her nervous system, a bit behind, worked to catch up in reaction to the unwelcome command of her irrational cerebral cortex. Looking to either side to make sure that the pressure and bulk she felt were cats, Meggie had a moment of relief, though it wasn’t enough to ward off what was coming. She wanted to yank back the covers, but forced herself to peel them away carefully so as not to dispatch anyone.
By Marilyn Lewis-Hampton5 years ago in Horror
Kin
“Every dream will reveal itself as a psychological structure, full of significance” – Sigmund Freud. The cool wind blows upon his face. A baby’s scream bellows down the twisted corridor into a darkened room. Of the seven years Christian Dillinger had lived in that house in the small town of Irving, that corridor had never seemed so long as what it did now. Shuffling down the corridor, the drapes hit his body as they blow fiercely due to the strong wind. Flashes of a sealed envelope addressed to him come and go. The baby’s scream grows louder and louder. Halfway down, he notices a trail of blood leading to the darkened room. He hesitates, but mustered up the courage to journey on. The door is shut. Shaking, he raises his arm to turn the door knob. Inside the room lies a naked baby in a cot, with the umbilical cord still attached, covered in blood. The baby’s scream is so loud it deafens him. Beside the baby is the sealed envelope. Within arms reach, a woman’s voice calls to Christian from behind.
By Nathan Spiro Morraitis 5 years ago in Horror
The Editor
You wake up to find a mysterious black notebook on your nightstand. The moment you touch it you hear the voice of the narrator. This voice, saying exactly what this voice is saying right now. The narrator says that it is the narrator and that you are the author of the world of your experience and the great editor of existence. That you now have power over life and death. Simply inscribe a name in this little black book and that person will die within 24 hours. Once the name is written you cannot remove it. It will erase on its own the moment the person is no more.
By M. M. Sang 5 years ago in Horror
One Day I'll be Rich
One day I’ll be rich. He wrote in his little black book for the third time today. Jordan believed that you could manifest anything that he wrote into his journal. Being rich was right on top of that list. All he could ever think about was how to get money and then how to get more money. Jordan was raised by his single mom who never had much to spare. He promised that one day he would never have to live like that again.
By Ashley Leung5 years ago in Horror
