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 Last Passenger
It was 11:43 p.m. when Raghav boarded the last city bus from Sector 29. The streets were eerily quiet, the fog hugging the road like a living thing. He had missed his train and this was the only way back home. The bus was empty—except for the driver and an old conductor chewing tobacco silently. Raghav picked a seat near the middle and pulled his hoodie tighter. Cold wind seeped through the cracked windows. Ten minutes into the journey, the bus stopped at a deserted junction. No one was there, but the door hissed open anyway. A man stepped in. Tall, thin, wearing a black coat and a wide-brimmed hat that shadowed his face. He didn’t speak, didn’t look at anyone—just walked silently and sat in the very last row. Raghav turned slightly. He hadn’t seen the man approach. No headlights, no footsteps, no sound. Weird. The bus moved on. Another stop. Empty again. But this time, the door opened and a woman climbed in. Pale face, white sari. She too walked to the back. Raghav glanced behind. Now there were two people sitting there. He looked at the conductor, who was still chewing, staring blankly ahead. “Do you know those people?” Raghav asked casually. The conductor blinked. “What people?” Raghav frowned. “The ones who just got on?” The conductor turned around. His eyes scanned the bus—and then narrowed. “There’s no one there,” he said flatly. Raghav turned back to look. The back seats were empty. He stared, stunned. He was sure he saw them. Had even heard footsteps. The conductor chuckled nervously. “Late night messes with your head, bhai. Sit tight.” The bus moved on. Next stop.
By THOUGHT LIKE A PRO2 years ago in Horror
The call of darkness
The call of darkness [Chapter 1: The Manuscript of Shadows] The antique clock struck midnight as rain lashed against the weathered windows of Rahul's third-floor apartment. The feeble glow of his laptop screen cast long, trembling shadows across the cluttered workspace. Dark circles framed his bloodshot eyes - he hadn't slept properly in days.
By Fahad Khan2 years ago in Horror
The Hollow Girl’s New Skin: A True Haunting at Blackvale Orphanage
Season 2 ______________________________________________ PROLOGUE: THE TRANSFER Blackvale Orphanage - December 21, 1986 The children's choir should have stopped when the screaming began.
By Tales That Breathe at Night2 years ago in Horror
The Mirror in Room 213
The Mirror in Room 213 The Ashgrove Inn stood abandoned on the edge of a forgotten highway, its windows boarded, its paint flaking like old scabs. Locals whispered about the place but never lingered. Only one room ever bore a name whispered louder than the rest — Room 213.
By Rony Sutradar2 years ago in Horror
Under the Skin
It began with a drip. Nina first heard it the night after her grandmother’s funeral. She was staying in the old Victorian house to pack things up for the estate sale. The house, nestled at the edge of a dense forest in Vermont, had always felt strange to her—rooms colder than they should be, mirrors reflecting more than they should, silence thicker than comfort allowed.
By Imran hossain2 years ago in Horror
