Psychological
Elle. Content Warning.
In the end it didn’t matter. In the end nothing would. Because in the end, they would never be able to hurt me again. * I knew exactly what I had done. Looking down at the figure below me, everything came rushing back, knocking my breath out of my throat. The warped memories flooded into my mind all at once.
By Kathryn Kluttzabout a year ago in Fiction
'A Train For Somebody'
Somebody once told me that waiting for things to happen will never equate to success. That ‘Somebody’ also told me that hard work is the only action you can take to get somewhere you want to go. Regardless of what he thought, I took it with a grain of salt.
By John Henryabout a year ago in Fiction
Whispers from the Locked Door. AI-Generated.
Emma had always been drawn to old houses. Their stories felt like silent companions, waiting patiently to be uncovered. When she found the quaint Victorian on Maple Street, she knew she had to have it — despite the quirks, the creaky floorboards, and especially the locked door at the end of the hallway.
By Yasir Nawazabout a year ago in Fiction
The Last Minute A Story of Dying . Content Warning.
The noise was the first to leave him. He could see the lips of his daughter, feel the tremble of her hand on his, but could no longer hear her. Not the soft whisper of her voice. Not the garbled sob in her throat. Not the quiet beep of the machines. As if life itself had lowered the level, as if the world was backing away quietly, waiting to release.
By Dr Haider ali shamsherabout a year ago in Fiction
The Ace of Spaces Murders-2nd Part
Chapter 2: The Ace of Spades The rain had started by the time James and Sarah reached Marcus Doyle’s apartment. A cramped, third-floor walk-up in the kind of building where the wallpaper peeled in long, sad strips and the air smelled of mildew and stale coffee.
By Md. Muzammal Rahman Pirabout a year ago in Fiction
The Boy Who Borrowed Time
The Worst Morning Ever Leo Winters was having the worst morning of his entire life. He missed the school bus. He spilled chocolate milk on his math homework. His big science project—the volcano—fell apart. And when he got to school (late), his best friend Olivia was mad at him because he forgot to save her a seat at lunch yesterday. “Can this day just end already?” he groaned, flopping down under the jungle gym at recess. But then he heard a voice say: “Would you like to borrow an hour?” Man The voice came from an old man sitting on a nearby bench. He wore a gray suit, shiny black shoes, and had a small silver pocket watch in one hand. Leo stared. “Borrow… what?” The man smiled like he’d been waiting for Leo. “Time, of course. You can borrow an hour from tomorrow. Use it to fix today. Or redo something. Or even skip a part you don’t like.” Leo blinked. “You mean, like… I get extra time today?” The man nodded. “One hour. But you must return it by sundown tomorrow. Time doesn’t like being short.” Leo laughed. “Is this a prank?” The man flipped the watch open and held it out. Tick. Tick. Tick. Leo took it. And everything changed. As soon as Leo took the watch, the world froze. Everyone stopped moving. Even the birds in the sky looked like stickers glued to the air. Leo could move freely. He ran back home, fixed his volcano project, rewrote his homework, and even put Olivia’s favorite cookie in her lunchbox as a surprise. When he clicked the watch again, the world resumed. And everything started going perfectly. He wasn’t late. His project got an A. Olivia smiled and said, “You’re the best!” And for the first time ever… Leo felt ahead of the day. Borrowed Time The next day, Leo found the watch still in his pocket. He couldn’t help it—he used it again. And again the next day. And the next. He borrowed hours to: Study for tests he forgot about Sneak in extra sleep Fix arguments before they started Even redo video game levels he messed up Every time, life got easier. And cooler. But one night, he forgot to return the hour. It was cloudy. The sunset was hidden. He figured, “I’ll just give it back tomorrow.” He shouldn’t have done that. The First Crack That morning, Leo woke up to find his reflection smiling at him… before he smiled. He rubbed his eyes. Weird. At school, Olivia said, “You already told me that,” even though he hadn’t. He tried to use the watch—but it was ticking backwards. Fast. And the next hour he borrowed? Felt shorter. Like it lasted only 40 minutes. The Time Collector That night, the old man appeared again—this time, in Leo’s bedroom. He wasn’t smiling. “You’re in time-debt, Leo,” he said. “You owe seven hours. Time is… not pleased.” “I’ll return them!” Leo said quickly. “Just tell me how.” “It’s not that simple anymore. You’ve used what wasn’t yours. Now the time you borrowed… will try to collect you.” “What does that mean?” But the man vanished. And Leo’s clock hands started spinning on their own. Skipped The next day, things got stranger. His breakfast vanished from the plate before he touched it. At school, he blinked—and suddenly it was math class, with no memory of lunch. Olivia said he ignored her at recess, but he wasn’t even there. Time was skipping him—taking back chunks of his life. He tried to stay awake that night, but it was no use. The watch ticked loudly. He closed his eyes for one second… …and woke up two days later. The Hourglass Room Desperate, Leo opened the watch’s back and found a tiny map etched inside. Following it led him to the town’s oldest clock tower. Inside, behind a dusty curtain, was a door. He stepped through—and found himself in a huge, glowing room filled with floating hourglasses. Some big. Some small. Some nearly empty. In the center was a massive one with his name etched in the glass. Sand poured from the top faster than it should. Suddenly, shadows in the shape of clocks crept forward. Time was alive. And it wanted him. The Deal Just as the shadows reached for him, the Watch Man appeared again. “You must give something back,” he said. “An hour is worth more than you know.” Leo thought hard. “Take my lunch breaks!” he begged. “Take my Saturdays!” “No,” said the man. “Not trades. Sacrifice. Choose a memory. Something you love.” Leo’s eyes filled with tears. “My birthday party,” he whispered. “The one when I turned 10. You can have it.” The Watch Man nodded. One hourglass vanished. The sand slowed. And the shadows backed away. Returned Leo woke up at home. Everything felt… normal. The watch was gone. He rushed to Olivia. “Do you remember my 10th birthday? The cake that looked like a dragon?” She blinked. “You never had a dragon cake.” His heart sank. It had worked. The hour was gone forever. But so was the memory. He had paid back time. Epilogue: The Lesson Leo never saw the Watch Man again. But sometimes, when a day feels too long, he remembers what it cost to make time stretch. Now, he just lives it. Even the bad days. Because time is a gift—not something to borrow. And he’s never late for sunset. Ever again.
By Lucien Hollow about a year ago in Fiction
I Am The Gift
They never ask where I came from. They only ask if I come with batteries. I don’t. There was a time when I was ash, scattered beneath a black tree struck by lightning. Before that, I was a name spoken in a language no one remembers. Before that, I was just... waiting.
By Paper Lanternabout a year ago in Fiction
I Believe We’ve Met Before
It had been ten years since Pete returned home from a war that everyone said was mankind’s last. He knew as much as he wanted it to be true, human nature would find a way to nullify that bold statement. It always did. What he knew for certain was the life he had built for himself and his young family since he’d returned was far better than what he had imagined it would be ten years ago.
By Mark Gagnonabout a year ago in Fiction
Mr. Belly
It started on a Thursday. Lily screamed in the middle of the night. I bolted out of bed, heart pounding, and ran to her room. Mom and Dad were already there, clutching their robes, panic etched on their faces. Lily sat on her bed, trembling, her blanket pulled up to her chin. Her wide eyes were locked on the window. “There’s someone at the window,” she whispered. I turned and looked. Nothing. The backyard was still. The wind barely moved the trees. “I saw him,” Lily insisted, her voice shaking. “He was big. Really big. His skin was oily and sagged like melted wax. His belly... it growled. Loud. Like a monster. He tapped on the glass and said, let me in, little one... I have sweets just for you.” Dad flicked on the porch light and stepped outside with a bat. Nothing. Just grass and silence. “She probably had a bad dream,” Mom said, brushing Lily’s hair. “No more scary stories before bed.” But I saw her eyes. That wasn’t a dream. “I’ll stay with you,” I told her, climbing into her bed. She gripped my hand until she fell asleep. I waited a while before slipping out. I was tired. I thought she'd be okay. I was wrong. At 2:43 AM, her scream tore through the house like a knife. I flew down the hallway with my parents. Her room was empty. The window was open. Curtains flapped against the breeze. Her blanket was on the floor. No sign of struggle. No blood. Just an open window and silence that pressed into my chest like a weight. Mom collapsed to her knees, screaming Lily’s name. Dad called the police. They searched the woods. They searched the neighborhood. Dogs, flashlights, helicopters. Nothing. That was five days ago. Now I sleep with my light on. My door locked. But I still hear it. The tapping. Soft. Patient. Last night, I heard the whisper outside my own window. Let me in, little one... I have sweets just for you. And then, the growl. It wasn’t a dream. Mister Belly is real. And now, he’s hungry again. Tags: horror, scary story, vocal horror, bedtime terror, creepypasta, missing child, monster at window, urban legend, horror fiction, suspense thriller
By CreepVille Horror Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
