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Showing stories tagged with #psychological-horror Clear filter
I wake up in am empty room, no doors or windows. The walls are completely blank except for a tiny purple smear in the bottom left corner of the third wall.
#household WARNING; Extremely Insane In Every Insanely Mad Way. Darker Then Night. Beware. Tick, tock, cuckoo clock. Time is running out. Bleeding, bleeding, breakfast feeding, Slice and dice...
Do you feel fear. Loss. Anger. As you look up to me, do you cry. I laugh at my sacrifice. Fool of a child, petty thing, wonders into the midst of my schemes and lands as a sacrifice... My chosen one.
All the children... run away All the children... go and play When the night is risen high Sleeping beds and moon is nigh That's when I am here to stay.
Followed on from @naaviie Every time I blink it seems like eternity. Stuck inside the shadows of my eyelids. Swirling shapes and noises. And yet when I open them...nothing.
You hear a secret that can't be told. Go down on your knees and swear, I will hold this secret tight and never let it go. Look once, just a glimpse is it all it takes. Look for people wondering by.
The screams reverberate around the air, shattering silence to nothing. I slowly start to back away, ears ringing from the awful crescendo.
The room was chill, the rather ornate fireplace dead and cold. Ornate furniture from a more formal time was placed to the best advantage.
Looking in the mirror, facing everything I fear. Myself. Blank eyes, looking through the mirror. Wondering why I'm here. Questioning everything in the sight, rethinking is this really right.
Josh looked around at the other survivors. They looked back at him, eyes searching for any sign of hope. He stood up.
Lights glare down fiercely, as I sit, wounded and disorientated. The sickly sweet coy along my lips suggests that I may not have been falling as long as I thought.
Raven with her hand held high,. Dark poison in her cup,. "Drink my soul, for when I die,. You'll soon run out of luck!". Your talisman, your lucky charm,. A naive wench that held your arm,.
This story is based on a nightmare I had when I was 11 years old. It was so scary, that I remember it, even today. I'm standing. In my kitchen. Only, it's not really my kitchen. It doesn't feel right.
Wind the lever, The machine comes to life Your robot heart Clutches a knife. His clockwork body Toys with the blade, Mechanical body, Nuts and bolts-made.
I know of a place. That deep in the night. Becomes dark as space. It gives me a fright. It's where werewolves crawl. And vampires creep. Where bogey men drawl. And Frankenstein sleeps.
Lori was scared of the ghost. Her bedroom was dark, the world inky.
I wear your memorial round my neck Glinting, clacking, pearly white; You were so faithful, wonderful and true I could not part with all my might.
Something new. Something old. Something burnt. Or something cold. Something dead. Something jerks. Something hides. And something lurks. Something haunts. Something heals. Something's ice.
Walking home alone tonight, Just me, myself and I, No moon to guide my way, And no stars up in the sky. The streets are rather empty, Of everything but dust, No people that I know, Or any that I...
A nightmare even a dream is a terrible infliction, acting as the souls miserable or happy addiction. Able to take over your entire being, leaving the sufferer helpless in a deep subconscious coma.
My glass palace,. Its tallest tower reaches right up to the clouds. It is made entirely of glass,. Every window every doorway every passageway every item of furniture is made of crystal glass.
#100days It beckons. I hear it gently calling me. People talk but never listen. All wrapped in their individual worlds. "Give in," it whispers softly "give in".
The next morning felt surreal as there was a beautiful smell of bacon sizzling in the oven. Rubbing my eyes, I traipsed downstairs and saw two hands fiddling with the bacon. They were my mums hands.
I walk these hallowed halls alone, the Walls echo history in a myriad of ways.