Story cover for PSYCHOLOGICAL TERROR by Samuel_orubuloye
PSYCHOLOGICAL TERROR
Samuel_orubuloye
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  • WpHistory
    Time 53m
  • WpView
    Reads 12
  • WpVote
    Votes 2
  • WpPart
    Parts 1
  • WpHistory
    Time 53m
Samuel_orubuloye
Ongoing, First published Sep 05, 2024
darkgamehauntinghorrormirrorpsychologicalreflectionstorythriller
In psychological terror, one fateful encounter with a mirror game pushes Sarah's life down a vortex of terror. What was at first seemingly an innocent dare soon turned into a full-blown psychological nightmare where reality distorts, shadows whisper, and her reflection is no longer just a figure in the glass. Haunted by the twisted version of herself, Sarah must navigate the sinister game where each decision might lead her further into the abyss of her own mind. As the line between reality and nightmare starts to blur, Sarah is then pushed into the most ghastly truth: this was not just survival but a test of her immortal soul.
With every step, she struggles not only with the dark presence in the mirror but also with the demons that dwell within her. The more she delves deeper, the more it dawns on her that the reflection is not just some haunting figure but part of herself. Sarah must embrace the darkest sides of her psyche to get out of this nightmare, or else she will never leave. Psychological terror is a chilling psychological horror into the terrifying powers of the human mind, the fragility of reality, and that thin veil between light and darkness. Chilling and eerie, this is one story that will leave you guessing what's real and what's just lurking beyond the glass.
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darkgamehauntinghorrormirrorpsychologicalreflectionstorythriller
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Reflected sorrows cover
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Reflected sorrows

40 parts Complete

A lost, grieving soul enters the jaws of an insatiable beast, where the eyes of uncannily well-preserved paintings reach for her weary, lonesome corpse like crows. This mansion has no history to be felt or heard; it's as if the rooms are hollow and ravenous, their stale tranquillity broken by irregular draughts that send shudders down her spine as oppressive as the clattering of a needle to the floor. There lie secrets. Secrets and betrayals. In the mirrors, familiar faces crawl out from their eternal doom to grasp her pale skin and whisper trenchant advice into her ears with a sickly tongue, hearing her heartbeat like the ticking of a clock; candles that breathe within her. Those faces have lain so long in wait among the stitches and threads of madness, waiting for her arrival. Though the hours crawl onwards, she remains, watching and listening to the whispers of sorrow that lurk behind her at every acrimonious gust of wind howling through the mouth of the great beast. What awaits her within these halls, engulfed in oppressive, potent mists of grief? Who may she meet in the reflections of trembling malady? Through it all, that face haunts her every step. Yellow skin and seething eyes. Ink-stained and bloody. Cackling as insidious as death. Woeful as grief.

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