psychological

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

COLLEGE. Content Warning.
COLLEGE “Bossier Parish Community College...I don’t even know anything about this damn college” Trudy quipped to Stephanie. “I have never even been to the city like this. I like my little quiet life here”. Trudy lived in a rural area right outside of Shreveport, Louisiana her whole entire life and was a little anxious about living in the city.
By Awfully Twisted2 years ago in Horror
Beyond the Mirror
There was a strange store at the end of the cobblestone street in the sleepy village of Harrow, where it looked as though time stood still. The location was known as "The Looking Glass," and it was full of oddities and antiquities that seemed to harken back to bygone eras.
By MD. RAFIQUL ISLAM MURAD 2 years ago in Horror
The Lagoon
Venice at night was a different city. The cobblestone streets, bustling with tourists by day, became silent and lonely under the thick fog that rose from the canals. The water was still, black as ink, and the air heavy with dampness. The old city, with its decaying buildings and twisting alleyways, seemed alive with something sinister—something ancient.
By Jason “Jay” Benskin2 years ago in Horror
The Darkness of Space: An Analysis and Creepy Facts
Space is vast, mysterious, and hauntingly dark. Its sheer scale, the profound emptiness, and the unknown forces at play have fascinated humanity for centuries. The darkness of space, though seemingly simple, carries unnerving truths that fuel our deepest fears. This analysis explores why space is so dark, what it reveals about the universe, and some chilling facts that highlight the eerie nature of the cosmos.
By Cosmic Dread2 years ago in Horror
Beyond the Hype: A Closer Look at Monkeypox
We had just freed our lives from the memories of Corona that today another new threat is standing in front of us for the whole world in the name of monkeypox, a viral disease similar to smallpox but less severe, has recently emerged as a global health concern. While the disease has been known for decades, it primarily occurs in Central and Western Africa. affects the population, which has posed significant challenges to all public health systems in the world in recent years. In this article we look at the multifaceted aspects of monkeypox, examining its origin, spread, impact and management strategies globally. Will throw light on. From the historical context of monkeypox to the current epidemiological landscape, this comprehensive exploration aims to shed light on the complexities associated with this infectious disease. Delving deeper into the causes, social implications, and new research efforts into monkeypox. This will help dear readers prepare for the global fight against this grave health threat.
By umar khalid2 years ago in Horror
Mnemonic
The first thing I noticed was the coldness. I was lying on the floor, and the chill from the concrete seeped through my clothes, sending shivers up my spine. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog in my head. The room around me was dimly lit, casting long, eerie shadows on the walls. Panic surged through me as I realized I had no idea where I was—or worse, who I was. I forced myself to sit up, taking in the sparse surroundings. A single lightbulb swung gently from the ceiling, casting a weak glow over the space. There was a heavy door on one side of the room, but it was locked, the large steel frame giving no hint of escape. A small desk sat against the opposite wall, cluttered with papers, but my attention was drawn to the constant ticking sound that filled the room. I stood up slowly, my legs wobbly beneath me. Reaching into my pocket for any clue, my fingers grazed a crumpled piece of paper. Pulling it out, I unfolded the note and read the words carefully: *"Find the key before the clock strikes twelve, or everything will be lost."* I read it again, confusion settling in. What key? What clock? I scanned the room for answers but found none. The ticking grew louder as I focused on the sound. My eyes landed on a large grandfather clock in the far corner, its hands slowly edging toward the twelve. A sudden wave of fear washed over me. I had no idea what would happen when the clock struck, but the urgency in the note was clear—I had to find the key. I moved quickly to the desk, rummaging through the papers. Most of them were old, brittle, covered in writing that made no sense to me. Names, dates, diagrams—none of it rang any bells. My mind raced, desperate for a clue. As I sifted through the mess, flashes of memories began to surface, hazy and indistinct. A woman’s face, smiling warmly at me. A large, old house—was it this one? And then, a sensation of falling. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog. There was no time to linger on fleeting memories. I had to stay focused. My fingers brushed against something solid beneath the papers. I pulled it out—an old, rusty key. My heart leaped, but it was too early to celebrate. The note hadn’t told me what the key opened, and time was running out. The clock’s ticking seemed louder now, each second feeling like a countdown to something ominous. I searched the room for anything the key might fit, running my hands along the walls, checking the drawers of the desk, but nothing seemed to match. Frustration gnawed at me. Where was the lock? What was I missing? Another memory hit me, clearer this time. I was standing in a room much like this one, arguing with someone. I couldn’t make out their face, but I could feel the tension between us. There was something important I needed to do, but they were stopping me. Then, a sharp pain—was it from a fall? No, it was something else…something darker. I gasped as a sharp knock echoed through the room. I hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a small door hidden in the shadows near the clock. I rushed over and knelt before it, inspecting the lock. It was old and intricate, the kind that seemed to belong in a different century. Without hesitation, I inserted the key and twisted. The lock clicked open just as the clock began to chime. I yanked the door open, my pulse racing. Behind the door was a small compartment, and inside was an envelope. I grabbed it, ripping it open as the clock continued to chime in the background. Inside was a single photograph. It was of me—standing with the same woman from my fragmented memory. She was smiling, her arm around my shoulders, but something about the image felt wrong. Her eyes seemed too dark, too cold. My heart pounded in my chest as the final memory came rushing back. She had tricked me. The woman in the photograph wasn’t my friend, wasn’t someone I cared about. She was the one who had locked me in this room. She had taken my memories, left me disoriented and lost. I didn’t know why, but I knew I had to stop her. I stared at the photograph, realizing that finding the key had been just the beginning. The real challenge was yet to come. The final chime of the clock echoed through the room, and the light flickered ominously. Whatever time I had left was slipping away. But now, I had a target. I knew who I was hunting, and I wouldn’t rest until I found her. The game had just begun. Thank you so much for reading **"Mnemonic"**! 🗝️ I hope you enjoyed the twists and turns of the mystery and the journey of unlocking hidden memories. Your time and support mean the world to me! 😊 Stay tuned for more stories and adventures ahead! 📖✨
By Sudarsan2 years ago in Horror
Axe
Axe is, if you axe me (har-har) a pretty darn good little horror flick with an unfortunate bad moment involving a convenience store (or rather, grocery store clerk) and a couple of Mafia hojoes who may be the OTHER Resevoir Dogs.
By Tom Baker2 years ago in Horror
Gorefest
In a town where shadows crawl and creep, Beneath the stars that seldom sleep, Lies a tale of hunger, deep and dark, A story sparked by a curious lark. The clock struck twelve, the witching hour, The moon, a pale and watchful tower, Illuminated a house of old, Where secrets whispered, and stories told. In that house, so worn and gray, Lived a chef with a twisted way. Gordon Gristle, with eyes of coal, Had a love for cooking—body and soul. His kitchen, filled with pots and pans, And jars of spices, old as man, But hidden deep, where light was thin, Were the tools of his culinary sin. A meat grinder, rusted red, Where rumors claimed the living bled, And knives so sharp, they sang a tune, Of flesh and bone, under the moon. One night, a group of friends did dare, To enter the house with the utmost care. They'd heard the stories, the dreadful lore, But sought a thrill, and nothing more. Tim, the leader, brave and bold, Whispered of treasures, silver and gold. "Let's steal from Gristle," he quietly said, "Before he finds us and we're dead!" The others, though wary, did agree, To rob the chef of his devilish fee. They tiptoed through halls, dark and still, Unaware of the looming thrill. The kitchen door creaked open wide, And there they found the chef inside. He stirred a pot, with a grin so wide, A shiver ran down every spine. "Welcome, my guests," Gristle did say, "To my midnight feast—won't you stay?" The friends exchanged a nervous glance, But Tim, undeterred, took a chance. "We're here for gold, not for food," he said, "Hand it over, or you'll be dead." Gristle chuckled, a deep, low sound, As the room began to spin around. The walls grew tight, the air so thin, As the chef's grin turned to a fiendish grin. "Gold, you seek, but a meal you’ll get, For in my kitchen, there's no regret." He clapped his hands, the lights grew dim, As pots and pans began to swim, In the air they danced, with a clatter and clang, While the friends’ hearts with terror rang. From the shadows, a meat cleaver flew, Tim ducked and dodged as it split in two, The table behind, where it landed fast, The echo of laughter, a haunting blast. "Run!" cried Sarah, as she grabbed the door, But the handle turned to a fleshy gore, It pulsed and writhed under her hand, As the kitchen became a twisted land. The walls now breathed, the floor did sway, As Gristle cackled, blocking their way. "You can't leave now, the feast's begun, And I’m the host—let’s have some fun!" With a flick of his wrist, the stove ignited, Flames leaped high, as if delighted. The friends, now trapped, in a chef's cruel game, Began to see the horror of their aim. But here’s where the tale takes a turn, For horror and humor can equally burn. As the pots flew by, with a zoom and a zing, Tim slipped on a banana peel—of all things! He landed hard, with a smack and a thud, As the room erupted in gory mud. But the mud, it seemed, was made of fudge, And the smell of chocolate gave a nudge. "Wait," said Jake, with a puzzled look, "Is this a kitchen or a comic book?" The walls of flesh began to melt, As the chef’s laughter turned to a yelp. For Gristle, though cruel, had a flaw, His magic undone by a chocolate law. The kitchen, once filled with fear and dread, Now bubbled over with sweets instead. "What's happening?" Sarah did cry, As pies and cakes began to fly. The stove, once roaring with fire and heat, Now baked cupcakes, soft and sweet. Gristle, now flustered, tried to regain, His fearsome power, but all in vain. For every spell he tried to cast, Turned to sugar, and sweetness vast. The friends, now laughing, in shock and surprise, Watched as the kitchen turned into a prize. They gathered the sweets, the gold they sought, In chocolate coins, with caramel caught. And as they fled, into the night, Gristle’s screams faded from sight. For in that house, the curse now broke, And the chef was left in a sugary yoke. But beware, dear reader, of the feast at night, For not all curses end in delight. Some chefs still hunger, with a taste so dire, For flesh and fear, in a midnight pyre. So if you dare, to seek out gold, Remember the tale, and be not bold. For in the dark, where shadows feast, You might just find yourself the beast. But should you slip on a peel or two, And laugh at fear as it laughs at you, The horrors may turn to something sweet, A midnight feast you just might beat.
By Sudarsan2 years ago in Horror
MS. MONTEGUT. Content Warning.
MS MONTEGUT Trudy suddenly woke up to police sirens going off all over her neighborhood and there was a knock at her front door. She quickly got out of bed and opened her bedroom door, peering around the
By Awfully Twisted2 years ago in Horror
Impact Winter: Series Two — Audible Review
The hit Audible Original series from executive producers of The Walking Dead and the writer of Pacific Rim returns for its highly anticipated second season.
By Ted Ryan2 years ago in Horror
Horror Fiction Movies
Horror fiction movies have always fascinated people. Whether it's the spine-chilling stories of haunted houses, ghosts, or monsters, these films are designed to scare us. But have you ever wondered if these fictional movies impact our real lives? Do the terrifying scenes stay with us after the movie ends, affecting how we think, feel, and behave?
By Mamoona Bushra2 years ago in Horror
Tales from the Darkside: "Seasons of Belief"
"Tales from the Darkside" is a series so exceptional that it almost seems redundant to mention it. Everyone in the know already acknowledges it as one of the top horror anthology shows of all time, masterfully created and produced by the late George "Living Dead" Romero, who also crafted the film it was spun off from—Creepshow.
By Tom Baker2 years ago in Horror