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Showing stories tagged with #psychological-terror Clear filter
12pm the witches hour, so come out here to play my dear, watch me hover so near, oh the taste of those delicate tears, My cauldron bubbles and steams up today, I'm not sorry this is the only way.
Mørkeredd.. Hvorfor er man mørkeredd . Kanskje ligger det noe i det å være mørkeredd.
The star of death is barely seen It's always there but lost between The star of death has always been It's always there just lost at sea The star of death is grim and mean It's always there...
Boys and girls every age don't you want to see something strange.
I can hear the sound of the rain, furiously bombarding my window. The wind howling, shrieking, crying out my name. The trees roar with frustration, their branches crashing against each other.
He pinned her to the ground, his fingers digging into her shoulders as he struggled to keep hold. She thrashed beneath him. Her torso twisting, legs kicking wildly but he persisted.
My home is darkness. I am dead. No life I feel in heart or head; No pleasant sound to soothe my ears. All but that one, through endless years...
1. The moss-covered gate swung in the strong wind in front of me as flashes of lightning illuminated the bell tower which stood guard over the grounds.
Ben had to work today, and ended up leaving around 10:00 pm. He was tired and stressed from having to work in the kitchen at the local restaurant all night.
As I stepped into the avenue ,chills ran up my spine as the crooked shadows twisted around me ,pushing me to go on.
One day I was out at the park when a mysterious fog began to develop across the field. I looked out into the fog and saw the scrawny figure of a young girl.
You are a teenager at home with your parents living in a two story home in a remote area in Iowa.
I wake up to hear only the birds sing the events of yesterday have me tired and weary I can barely think straight I make my way to the living room to see the doll and the note not on the floor where...
Gina ran full pelt up the lane that lead from the wasteground to her back gate, rammed it open with both arms outstretched and hid behind the shed, catching a thread from her cheesecloth smock on the...