psychological
Mind games taken way too far; explore the disturbing genre of psychological thrillers that make us question our perception of sanity and reality.
I'm So Happy You're Staying With Us. Top Story - October 2026.
When Roger gets to a hotel, he likes to unpack right away and iron his shirts so that he's ready for his client meetings. Roger was finishing his last shirt, arranging the sleeve on the hotel's ironing board and bringing the iron down with a satisfying hiss, when the hotel phone rang.
By John R. Godwin7 days ago in Horror
One Leaf Gone Strange
There are far worse things in the hills here than whatever it is you think you’re afraid of. We learned a long time ago to keep to ourselves, the way the mountains like for it to be. You stay quiet because there’s more to say than any of us has a mind to, and because there are God-made walls between you and your neighbor, and man-made ones between you and your own kin.
By Sara Elise MacDougall 7 days ago in Horror
Do Not Refresh
I eagerly waited for 7:00 pm to roll around - my favorite time of day. I logged into my PC, pulled up YouTube, and brought up the channel. At precisely this hour, my favorite live stream was coming on. This live stream channel focused solely on urban legends and hauntings many of which I've never heard of which made the show even more exciting. They came on once a week on a Friday at 7 pm and I never missed an episode.
By Jasmine Aguilar7 days ago in Horror
File 409-Delta
The basement smelled like wet sandstone, flux core, and ozone. It was 3:17 a.m., the middle-of-nowhere hour when your town goes dormant, and the ground below feels silent. Elias Thorne adjusted the vernier dial on the Zenith Radio under the work light.
By Edward Smith7 days ago in Horror
Sirens. Content Warning.
Content warning: Implied domestic violence Marian lost track of the time as she sat peeking through the blinds of a motel window, her nose inches from he glass. She needed to be sure they were safe, but she couldn't say what sort of sign would give her that assurance. The motel wasn't quite in the middle of nowhere but it was close. The edge of nowhere, at least. For however long Marian had been staring not a single vehicle had passed.
By Rebekah Conard7 days ago in Horror
Kept in Sight
Jeff Coldwell was busy with his glass test tubes, carefully watching liquids of mismatched colors swirl inside them. It was his home office—if you could even call it that. In reality, it was just a room split in half, a chaotic layout of equipment cutting right through the main hallway and the living space. Some say scientists love cluttered environments, and he was no exception. His main hall was designed to hold his entire world in one place: the workspace, the living lounge, the kitchen, and a dining table pushed right against his favorite sofa and television corner. He truly preferred having everything contained within a single room.
By The Pen Soul7 days ago in Horror
L’heure Verte
Ernest Perdu was a man of irritating (or endearing) predictability, depending on who you asked. Each afternoon, following his shift at the post, he would swap his work fatigues for a modest suit and brogues, and visit the local bar. He took comfort in its little rituals: the mahogany tables that wobbled on one side, their worn stool companions, and perhaps most importantly, the reservoir glass filled with his favored tipple. Absinthe may have fallen out of favor in the region decades before, but the distinctive aroma of anise and wormwood reminded him of a simpler time. And so he drank.
By E.K. Daniels7 days ago in Horror
The Man They Trusted Twice: The Abductions of Jan Broberg
A note to readers: This account is based on documented reporting, legal proceedings, and Jan Broberg’s public recollections. The events are real. No conversations, private thoughts, or evidence have been invented. Where an account depends on a participant’s recollection, it is presented as such.
By Veil of Shadows7 days ago in Horror
The Frequency That Shouldn't Exist
I found it on a Tuesday night in late October, the kind of night when the wind moves through the pines like something breathing too close to the window. I lived alone then, in the small house at the end of a gravel road that the county had stopped maintaining years earlier. The nearest neighbor was three miles away. Most evenings, my only company was the shortwave radio on the workbench in the spare room—an old Hallicrafters I’d restored myself, the kind that still smelled faintly of warm tubes and dust when it heated up.
By Jyoti DiClemente7 days ago in Horror
The Baby Monitor
“And then Abby poured the boiling oil on the monster, and killed it dead, and the villagers were so happy they gave her a bag of gold, and a new crown, and lots of new clothes, and said that they were so grateful, because they didn’t think their village would ever get rid of the evil Queen, but Abby did, but she had to leave as there was another town where the people had a problem, and she had to go fix it, so they wouldn’t be scared anymore, like they always been, since anyone could remember …. “
By Pitt Griffin7 days ago in Horror
