psychological

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

Mirror, Mirror, Leave Me Alone!. Runner-Up in Out of the Dream Challenge.
The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. It wasn't the first time. It started in November 2021, when I wrote up this diary entry:
By Lana V Lynx5 months ago in Horror
The Overtoun Bridge Mystery: Why Do Dogs Keep Jumping?. Content Warning.
There are places in the world that gradually develop strange reputations... abandoned hospitals, forgotten cemeteries, and lonely roads where drivers swear they have seen things they cannot explain. These settings often become the backdrop for stories that blur the line between fact and legend.
By Veil of Shadows5 months ago in Horror
Soft Thing
I woke to the sound of breathing. For several seconds, I lay perfectly still, staring at the ceiling. A crack ran through the plaster above me. Sunlight filtered through blinds somewhere nearby, carving pale stripes across the room. Dust drifted lazily through the light.
By Calliope5 months ago in Horror
🪦Death-ish
Rosa, my older sister, had a dream a few nights ago about seeing a bright white light which she started walking towards just before she woke up. Disappointed...she became curious as to what really lies beyond. So, she...we, decided to have her, or me, sleep and dream again so she could prove her point. We couldn't do our experiment at home...mother would ground us for life. So, we would go to the only place where the living or the dead would not interfere.
By Novel Allen5 months ago in Horror
The Drowned Woman
Nightmares are not lived only while dreaming. Sometimes the living nightmares are far worse. Midnight approaches stealthily...the graveyard breathes in relief... awakening - poised between moments - expectantly awaiting the unknown and the unseen. The moon is a thin scythe-like arch, hung high above the silence, it slices through a sky of indigo and ash. Shadows pool around the crooked headstones...dark in some places, light spilling like ink splotches in others, stretching long and trembling with the stories of the dead...long cold.
By Novel Allen5 months ago in Horror
Growth
It had been a hard week, and he was looking forward to a good night's sleep. On his way home, some old guy offered to tell his fortune if he "crossed their palm with silver", but he told them he didn't believe in ignorant rubbish like that and waved him away. The old guy said he would curse him as an unbeliever, but he wanted to be home.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 5 months ago in Horror
Nobody Looks at the Old Tree After Sunset — Final Part
The smile outside the window did not disappear. It remained there. Motionless. Watching. For a moment, Rafi forgot how to breathe.
By Muhammad 5 months ago in Horror
Cadence and decay. Content Warning. AI-Generated.
Tucked into an old corner of Vienna, where cobblestone streets narrowed and fog hung low even in daylight, sat Haus der Klangkunst—The House of Sound Art.
By E. hasan5 months ago in Horror
Surprise!
If most of us old folks answered honestly when asked what retirement was like they would say, “I’m bored out of my mind.” I get up around the same time every day, eat the same foods, rarely meet any new people, and go to bed at the same time every night. Every day is wash-rinse-repeat. Except for the rare occasion when an adult child or some other relative deems it necessary to clear their guilty conscience and call or visit. Nothing changes. At least that’s how it has been.
By Mark Gagnon5 months ago in Horror
Ballast
I. The First Water He is six, and the river is as wide as everything he has a word for. The line of the walking goes down into it and does not come up the same on the far side, fewer, always fewer, and the grown ones say cross quickly and do not say why, and the water is warm the way a mouth is warm, and something under it is patient. Behind them is forty days of walking and the smell of the thing that walked behind the walking. Ahead is a rumour of a fence and food and a country that counts you. His father’s hand is closed around his wrist. His father’s hand is the only fixed thing in the turning world.
By Ahmet Nazif Sati5 months ago in Horror
The Awakening. Content Warning.
The alley smells of new rain and old piss. Weaving between the deluges from overflowing downpipes, the dishevelled man leads me further into the darkness. He's oblivious to my presence, the first hint that this is one of my voyeuristic dreams. I shiver, not just from the cold, although I feel that to my bones, but from fear that this is one of those dreams that morphs into nightmare. It’s a cross I bear. Perverted dreams of young women in their most private moments, always start well and then degrade, if that’s the right word. They were degrading to begin with, but at some point, they turn even darker and always end in my death. Justice, I presume, for my perverse imaginings.
By Davi Mai5 months ago in Horror
So It Begins
She's running, panting for air. He's near, but she never knows where until it's too late. The old building is a maze of rooms. It appears to be some kind of an old lab or medical facility.
By Julie Lacksonen5 months ago in Horror