psychological
Mind games taken way too far; explore the disturbing genre of psychological thrillers that make us question our perception of sanity and reality.
So Many Doors
The Sad Tale of Evelyn Crumpett PROLOGUE: STEP THROUGH THE DOOR We go through life not really knowing what’s on the other side of it. We keep doing the same old thing like ants in a line. We see each other passing by, but all we do is meet eyes and move on. Why? Are we really that disconnected from each other that we’ve forgotten how to make real connections?
By Jay Piddleytoe4 years ago in Horror
The Witch of November
Water, black as the sky above, churns against the howling wind. It moves, swirls, crests, and crashes, heaving itself into the freezing night before falling again to the blackness below. Amid the snaking currents, waves of terrific height rise from the bottomless depths of this cold and infinite sea. Black rocks, jagged from eons of battering wind and water, protrude from the water’s surface like the teeth of vicious animals.
By Hans Pohai Müller4 years ago in Horror
LILAC
The only other time I can remember my family camping with a group was when we went with our neighbors long ago, when my brother and I were children. We camped in a meadow surrounded by dense forest. The meadow had a noticeable slope and I remember feeling like we were going to fall off the edge of something. Of course everything remained firmly on the ground. The only other memory I have of this trip is the butterflies. The adults were relaxing, my brother and I were amusing ourselves collecting strange pebbles and leaves, when a cloud of butterflies blew in on a breeze. They were small and of the most delicate shade of lilac, so that if you saw them against the sky they would almost disappear. But the butterfly cloud hovered right above the ground, shivering in the first foot of air, and it stood out in stark contrast against the dirt and grass. It was a beautiful sight, but my brother and I walked right into the cloud and began to stomp, jumping into the air, using our arms to add strength to the jump, smashing the butterflies with all the strength our child bodies could summon. We laughed with glee! In less than five seconds the meadow floor was littered with tiny lilac corpses, as if small pieces of the sky had been shaken loose from our violent stomping. “Stop!” Cried the neighbor. Her cry shook the demon loose and my brother and I came to our senses. We stood still, transfixed by the pretty graveyard at our feet, while the remains of the butterfly cloud quivered around us, and then, just as suddenly as it had arrived, it left. “You should be nice to the butterflies,” she said, and suddenly I felt sad, ashamed. My brother and I exchanged looks that told of mutual confusion at what had come over us. One of us shouted “sorry butterflies!” at the ground, and then we both scurried off in pursuit of more strange pebbles.
By Kenosha Drucker4 years ago in Horror
River Reflections
Everything is so tiring, Heather thought to herself, shuffling up the stairs with a bag of groceries in hand. Somewhere upstairs, the thudding of footsteps echoed back and forth. Probably those brattish children from next door, Heather thought. The thumping pounded like a hammer slamming nails into her head with each footstep. Tap tap tap. By now she had come to terms with her bitter cynicism, so she didn’t hold back the sharp, biting thoughts that seethed in her head.
By Georgia Nelson4 years ago in Horror
My Liege
I used to find the sound of the lake in the night to be calming, lovely even. My daughter and I would go down on chilly autumn mornings and I would read her some of her favorite stories, spending hours curled up together on the rickety bench that was only comfortable because we were together. Before I knew it, we would just be sitting together, her reading on her own, quietly snorting to herself as I just sit and listen. To the lake. To her.
By Vinny Meehan4 years ago in Horror
