thriller

The Room with No Mirrors – Deep Psychological Story (Narration for YouTube)
They told me memory can’t lie. But after what happened in Room 27… I’m not so sure. I was 29 when I joined the clinical study at the Mindwell Institute — a new research project on “visual memory reconstruction.”
By Naimat ullah12 months ago in Fiction
The Intruder. Top Story - November 2025.
I could see them earlier today. My keyhole looks into the hallway, but I can see into the living room too, occasionally catching glimpses of my favourite family. The long luscious blonde locks of Gabi, that flowed behind her like the veil she's wearing in the picture in the hallway. The tall handsome Zack, with large rippling muscles in his shoulders as he lifted little Ava high up in the air. The perfect family, illustrated well by the perfect pictures on the wall opposite my peephole.
By Liam Storm12 months ago in Fiction
The Boy Who Lives in the Wall
"Mommy?! Mommy, wake up!" Heidi groaned and rolled over toward the small voice, wishing her dream of mai-tais on the beach and hunky cabana boys could've lasted just a little longer. It took a few seconds for her bleary eyes to adjust in the dark. The second the frightened little boy standing at her bedside came into focus, she was wide awake.
By Natalie Gray12 months ago in Fiction
Echoes of the Ninth Signal
The city that pulsed under neon lights, restless and alive. Steam hissing from subway grates, twisting in the glow of flickering advertisements like ghostly fingers. At 2:03 a.m., the Ninth Signal cracked across the network which was sharp, impossible, and undeniably present. Mara, who felt it before she heard it, a vibration that rattled her chest and settled into her bones. Her screen exploded into static, then stilled, revealing nothing but a black void..
By AFC12 months ago in Fiction
On an Evening Walk Past Oakhurst Park
One of the chief pleasures of my life is to roam familiar city streets in the autumn air. The habit began as a product of necessity. In the early days of my career, I could not afford to hire a driver for the convenience of my commute. It was no matter, for I was full of the vigor of youth and a brisk walk to the office demanded only a small fraction of my energy, and a modest commitment of my time. After establishing myself in the relevant business circles, I gained an amount of freedom to choose my mode of transport on a regular basis.
By Rebekah Conard12 months ago in Fiction
The House That Laughed Last
Chapter 1: The Moving Van The Jensen family had just moved into 13 Hawthorn Lane, a crooked, peeling house with a lawn that seemed allergic to life. Dad was excited, Mom was wary, and Timmy, nine and already plotting to become the neighborhood mischief legend was suspicious of everything. The first night, the creaks started. Not the normal “old house settling” creaks. These were rhythmic, like someone tiptoeing… in clown shoes. Timmy, armed with a flashlight and a bowl of cereal, tiptoed into the hallway. The beam landed on… nothing. The cereal bowl was gone. A tiny, giggling voice echoed from the kitchen:
By AFC12 months ago in Fiction
creep show
Sometimes, one does stupid things. Out of nowhere, I took the liberty to look through the peephole. I mean, it was there for all to get the Goldilocks vibes and help oneself to the peepshow that was on offer. No one was around and I thought, what the hell?
By Jerome Smith-Pula12 months ago in Fiction
Some Things Should Not Be Seen
Laura put her eye to the keyhole. The room was dimly lit with only a small lamp. She could not make anything out. She was sure this was where the wailing had come from. She heard the floorboards creaking as someone walked across the room. A shadow passed the keyhole. She pulled her eye away.
By Calvin London12 months ago in Fiction
Unforgotten
Zeelen transmitted from the kitchen: “‘Mysteries abound where most we seek for answers.’ You know who wrote that? It was Ray Bradbury. Think he may have been onto something.” She picked up an apple, ruby-red, unmarred, and hesitated, before biting. It was juicy, and delicious. A new theory was required.
By Eric Wolf12 months ago in Fiction
A Message Written in Moon Dust
Dr. Aris Thorne was a geologist, a woman of rock and reason. The first human mission to the lunar farside was her life's work. As her lander settled into the dust of the Mendeleev Basin, a place of eternal Earth-shadow, her heart beat with a purely scientific thrill. She was here to read the moon's oldest stories, written in stone.
By Habibullah12 months ago in Fiction
THE PARALLEL TRANSMISSION
The Parallel Transmission When the message arrived, reality began to unravel. by Alex Mario The night was silent—too silent for a world stitched together by signals, motors, and the soft hiss of the cosmos. Wind swept over the Carpathian ridge and died against concrete, and inside the hilltop observatory the only sound was the hum of old equipment refusing to retire.
By Alex Mario12 months ago in Fiction
Very Careful. Content Warning.
Nicole touched her upper lip. The skin was cracked and dry. She shrugged. It was January in New York. Everything was cracked and dry, from the sidewalks to her toenail cuticles, which she absentmindedly picked at while she watched TV at night. More often than not, this habit resulted in a small to medium-sized bleed, which she’d patch with one of her son’s band-aids, a whimsical affair, usually adorned with space or unicorn scenes. The picked skin would heal in a few weeks, only for the band-aid to be removed and the skin, fresh and dry and tempting, to be picked at again.
By Kristin Diversi12 months ago in Fiction