psychological

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

Look at Me Now
As soon as he hit the wall, his body went limp, it slid down the wall, his skin and clothes the only things attempting to hold him up. The tearing and scraping sounds harmonized together, a staccato slither, could be heard across the darkened playground. His body finally came to rest on its knees. His cheek was caught on the spackled and dimpled brick, canting his head at a queer angle, his face at the end of the wide bloody trail down the wall in a close-eyed sneer.
By Vulture Writer5 years ago in Horror
The Mold
The Mold By: Project C-35 Amy awoke on a thick sheet of metal held to a moldy brick wall with chains creating a sad excuse of a bed, it looked like it belonged inside of a prison.
By Project C-355 years ago in Horror
White Old Woman Of The Night
1. The cold air felt thick and grew thicker with the door creaking open, breaking the silence. A psychiatric orderly held the door for a man dressed in a formal suit, holding folders by his side. His tie swung back and forth as he made his way to a seat at the steel table.
By DakTH5 years ago in Horror
The Nocturnal Witness
The night was eerily cold. It always was on the farm. Heavy fog from the rain earlier hovers over the ground, cloaking crickets working to fill the silence. A distant hoot from an owl, resonated periodically. This night was particularly windy. A loose barn door drums open and close, startling Margret awake. A troubled sleeper, she groans agitatedly to her husband.
By T A5 years ago in Horror
Escape
When I looked out the door, I could see the buzzards were still eating Jasper, pulling strips of flesh off his body and fighting over his innards. I could hear them squabbling in the waning light, but Jasper had been a big man, and there was enough for all of them.
By Kelli Heitstuman-Tomko5 years ago in Horror
Soul Carrier
Growing up I always loved listening to old wise tales. I liked the ones that everyone said were true but never could prove it. I remember one that I will never forget. I believe it now to be true because I witnessed it but I cant prove it. like everyone else who swears by their old story I gotta say I would by mine too. I seen it but I cant prove it.
By Brandy Lynn Rascon5 years ago in Horror
Are you my mommy?
standing in the kitchen, as a 32 year old woman, my eyes focused in on a fly, flying around me as I did the dishes, as it landed on my kids left over noodles from the night before, I stepped back and watched as the plate I was holding slipped out of my hands, slowly falling while hidden memories came rushing in like a flash flood...The year was 1984, I was nine years old and I can remember waking up to the apartment being eerily quiet, not just a noiseless quiet, it felt as though everything had stop around me, everything except for me. I slowly crept down what seemed like an endless hallway, my malnourished hand was placed against the yellow stained wall, shaking an all to familiar shake. I wasn’t afraid of a monster I had seen on t.v like most little girls would be, I was afraid of the monster who lived in my reality. My monster I called dad. This day after seeing him still asleep I turned and ran back to my room, I can still remember seeing the bottom of my pink ruffled ratted pajamas as I ran to play with the only friend my childhood ever knew, my twin sister, I enjoyed those few minutes of childhood. I was dancing around with my sister acting like what I assume most little girls having fun would act like and in the middle of me reaching to grab my sisters hands, the look came over her face. As her eyes look directly above my left shoulder. i dropped to my knees, knowing exactly what that look meant. My dad grabbed me by my hair and shouted "I WILL MAKE SURE I NEVER WAKE UP TO YOUR DISGUSTING VOICE AGAIN" I was shaking, barely able to stand ,from fear. He dragged me down the same hallway I had just been down but this time it seemed like i was in slow motion. I never fought back or tried to talk my way out of a situation. I always just prayed. After we got to the miniature bar where he hid his worn out leather belt, he began to hit me. it was never with the strap part of the belt, and rarely on my bottom. I placed my hands over my mouth so that my screams did not anger him further. I could hear my sister crying, even though i was the one that always got the beatings, i swear she was always in there with me, enduring the same pain.After this beating on this day my dad tended up throwing me on a brown, torn, smelly couch that sat randomly in his room and the old me not to move or speak . I was so afraid as I looked all around me, I didn’t know if I was more afraid of the known or the unknown. I looked all around me, my mind being pulled with different levels of fear in directions that put me in a paralyzed state. I sat there a 9 year old little girl so scared I could barely feel my body hurting as my pajamas pressed against my bruised body, I decided I wouldn’t say anything. I swear what I went through at this moment in my life was torture. Looking up my green eyes glossed over with tears I begged inside my head” please please please help me please help me” I clutched my fingers and toes begging for someone to help me knowing that my cries would go unheard I whispered "daddy", he didn’t hear me so i repeated it a little louder "daddy"! WHAT he replied, “there’s white things all over the couch" i said. He looked at me and said shut the fuck up its rice, just as I was about to respond he said "if you say one more thing...
By SheIsCorean5 years ago in Horror
Counting Peaches
Being a park ranger means dealing with a lot of monotony, but I don’t mind it one bit. In fact I prefer it. The secluded life in the woods far away from all the noise, hustle, and bustle of the city is worth it. For a lot of people it’s the isolation that keeps them away from the job, but I’ve found that it helps to have a tight schedule, something to focus on. On my first day I didn’t think I’d last a week, but after a few days I settled into a routine. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane.
By Gabe Shudak5 years ago in Horror
Mr. Bradshaw
Mr. Bradshaw is a rather odd man. He is short and has long arms, and his teeth are all either missing or rotting. His slimy yellow eyes are always bloodshot—glossy with some oozing liquid that forms a film across his irises and pupils. His back is hunched, and his body is oddly shaped and disproportionate.
By Austin Parden5 years ago in Horror
One Little Thing
One Little Thing “Sometimes, when all else is lost, we grab onto something, just one thing—one little thing, perhaps—and it becomes everything. Do you know what I mean, Ethan?”
By Carole Kamienski5 years ago in Horror
Revolving Doors
Amy busted through the doors of the hostel similarly to how she had done her last day of senior year just a month earlier. Her eyes sparkled with excitement; she couldn’t believe her parents had allowed her to travel abroad. She intended to absorb as much culture and make as many memories as possible. She had been dying to visit the enormous, bustling marketplace that was only a short walk from where they were staying, but her friends didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm. So, on this day, she made special plans to wake earlier than usual, leave a note, and let them meet her there.
By Chloe Wiseman5 years ago in Horror
A Series of Eerie - Part Three
"Don't be afraid," I remember my mother saying to me, "it all melts eventually." I wish things could be that simple. When I was younger I was afraid of the icicles that would gather outside our front door. I would hesitate to walk outside until my mother explained to me as long as I was careful, I'd always be safe. That became how I handled everything in life, with great caution. I never jumped into anything.
By Olivia J Edens5 years ago in Horror