Can Horror Psychology Explain Fear And Phobias?

I’m the heroine in an erotic story. My specialty? Turning anything hot or cold into something steamy. On the first day I landed in a horror game, the boss told everyone to choose how they wanted to die. I smiled and said, “I’ll take shortness of breath, trembling legs, glazed eyes, and… pleasure so intense I die from it.” Boss: “???”

I'm a bad-luck magnet in showbiz. Every guy who gets paired with me for publicity ends up with his image wrecked and career destroyed. And somehow, I still just want to fall in love. I finally landed a romance game endorsement, but I had no idea I'd accidentally wandered into a horror game. During the beta test, I threw myself straight into the BOSS's arms—a general. "My love, I missed you so much!" He froze in shock, his mangled hand moving toward the sword at his waist. I shyly stopped him. "Wow, slow down. We literally just met, and you're already trying to take your pants off?"

In real life, I had been pushed to the brink by an online romance scam. Just when everything fell apart, I awakened something called the Devotion System, and before I could make sense of it, I found myself thrown into a horror game. Among all the players, I was the weakest, barely able to take care of myself. If I wanted to survive, I had only one option—find someone stronger and cling to them, no matter what it took. However, things did not go the way I expected. Every player avoided me like the plague. Not a single one was willing to team up. With nowhere left to turn, I made a desperate decision. I chose a ghost. I treated her as my bound partner and devoted myself completely to her, clinging to her as if my life depended on it. However, as I spent more time with her, I began to realize she was not just something terrifying. She was someone who had been hurt, someone deeply broken. Hence, I stopped pretending. I began to help her sincerely. In the end, we overcame everything together and cleared the game. However, when I returned to the real world, I discovered something I never could have expected. She had followed me back. From that moment on, all I could do was wait for the system to pull me into the next stage.

I'm learning to swim when my childhood friend, Vivian Thorne, fakes a cramp. My boyfriend, Oliver Wilde, suddenly lets go of my hand and swims toward her. I'm left alone in the two-yard-deep pool, completely stunned. After Oliver carries Vivian ashore, he smiles as he watches me thrash around. "Vivian says you rely on me too much and need a push to learn, so just swim over here yourself." I choke on water and sink. At the sight of my struggle, Vivian laughs so hard she slaps her thigh. Oliver says something to her, then drapes a towel over her shoulders in resignation. Even though I can't hear what he says, I bet it must be, "Now that you've had your laugh, don't tease her the next time. Aria is already pitiful enough with her fear of water." It's true that I was born with a fear of water. I've known them for seven years. All this time, Oliver and Vivian have been tormenting me under the guise of helping me overcome my fear of water. In college, at the beach, Vivian deliberately pushes me off the speedboat. Oliver jumps in to shield her and watches me swallow a bellyful of seawater in the waves. On the graduation rafting trip, Vivian suddenly capsizes the kayak. Oliver swims over to pull her up and watches me slam into a rock, my leg bleeding nonstop. Last year at the water park, Vivian shoves me down the waterslide. Oliver slides down to catch her and leaves me in the pool, nearly suffocating with fear. Every time, my fear and despair are met with a burst of laughter from Vivian. Meanwhile, Oliver stands behind her, always saying the same thing. "No more next time." However, the next time always turns into Vivian's new way of having fun at my expense. Water floods into my mouth and nose, the suffocation shooting straight to the top of my skull. But suddenly, I realize that I can actually float on my own. I grab the safety rope and haul myself ashore. Two pairs of hands reach out to pull me up, but I push them away. "From now on, I don't need you two to help me build up my courage anymore."

Miss the blood boiling thrillers that you used to enjoy? Every night, we have a horror story to send you into the sweet, scary dreams.

I sell burritos in a horror game. All the ghosts would come to my place and buy a tasty burrito after they got off work. That was until one day, my ex-husband, who was obsessed with abusing me, joined the game as a player. He brought a group of people to my store and trashed the place. They ruined all the ingredients I had. When the Bosses finished their overtime and saw their pre-ordered burritos on the ground in pieces, their eyes became dark, and they were immediately infuriated. The Patchwork Monster was so angry that the stitches on its body were beginning to break. It started ripping the players apart. The Eight-Armed Maiden’s hair fanned out and pierced many players. The Wedding Dress Maiden suddenly became a giant and started eating the players one by one. The Bosses were willing to work overtime and maintain the operations of the dungeons overnight just so that they could have a burrito. That night, all the players were sleeping when they were forced to join a horror game.