Good Psychological Horror Books Novels & Stories

The next second, the Patchwork Monster tore the man in half. He tossed the body outside casually. Just then, a crisp, bell-like voice sounded outside. “It’s after work hours, who’s so rude as to be throwing bodies around?” A young girl with three heads and eight arms appeared at the doorway. With just one look at the shop, anger filled her voice, and her hair stood on end. “Who the hell had a death wish and smashed the Number One Must-Eat shop in the entire horror game?”

I pulled them down one by one, making a stack against my chest. Then, because Bailey had apparently infected my brain, I added one ridiculous paperback from the fiction shelf too. A cover with a snarling wolf and a woman whose dress would have been impractical in every season. If I was going to lose my mind, I might as well gather evidence. I settled into a chair by the window and opened the silver book first. Most of it was exactly what it should have been: old superstitions, purity myths, anti evil symbolism, protective charms. Silver against curses, silver against the restless dead, silver against what the night might drag close if left unguarded.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she slammed her fist against the glass, not to escape, but to warn me. She wasn't pointing at the creature. She was pointing at me. I followed her frantic gesture, looking at the window again. I looked at the glass, but I didn't see her reflection. I saw mine. But the reflection wasn't mine. It was the face of the portrait. The room began to shake. The walls of the Master Suite groaned, the wood warping and twisting like agonized flesh. I realized then that the dare wasn't a game. It was a harvest. The Blackwood Estate didn't just haunt people; it cycled them.

“Maybe killing too quickly got boring. He probably wants to try a new game this time. These players might end up dying worse than the others.” “The boss has such an insane presence. You can tell he’s ridiculously handsome even through the mask!” “Stop simping already. That’s a literal psychopath! He’s the cruelest and most ruthless boss in the entire game!” … Once we hid inside one of the guest rooms, everyone finally let out a breath of relief. The skinny guy looked guilty. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hold it in back there and almost got you all killed.” I patted his shoulder to comfort him. “Horror games are a survival hell. It’s not your fault. But from now on, we need to focus on finding clue

See? This was such a beautifully yet tear-jerking novel I have ever successfully crafted an idea with, a few months ago. But after I have encountered all the horrible occurrences for the past months, I came back to work and turned this sad and romantic novel into a mystery and horror novel, which made all my work colleagues and supervisor absolutely petrified. They have no idea that I was even more shocked and horrified when I have suddenly realized that my novel had suddenly become so dark and twisted. It was beautifully written, like a psychopath has written a novel for the very first time.

I stared blankly at the bookshelf in front of me. No. Absolutely not. I shoved the thought away immediately. I am not going to think about him. Especially not after the way my pulse had reacted earlier when Derek looked at me in the training grounds. And definitely not after Fiona’s teasing. Nope. I walked over to a shelf in search of a book, trying to divert my attention from dangerous thoughts. The shelves here seemed older than the others, filled with history texts, magical records, and strange psychological studies. One title immediately caught my attention. Childhood Memory Loss and Magical Trauma. My fingers stilled on the spine and slowly, I pulled the book free. A strange heaviness s

FEBRUARY, 23, 2018. DARK MOON PACK. (ORLA'S POV) I hissed for the third time in a row, flipping the book I was reading on the bed. It had begun as a mere foreboding, but as time crawled by, I couldn't help but feel that heavy weight on my chest. It was so thick that I felt I could touch it. That feeling. Something was about to happen, yet I couldn't place what it was.

Shaking her head, she said, "But aren't you only like that because you idiotically accepted an accursed book from a nobody? You said, you don't even believe in ghosts before you got that." He sighed and took out the book which always appeared inside his pocket for several months now. The book was giving off a mysterious vibe due to its black worn-out cover featuring a faceless monster. He got it from a fake friend who had styled himself as a book collector. Nathan was a horror writer so he accepted the creepy book. His initial objective was only to look for more ideas and inspiration. Who would have thought the horror writer who never believed in ghost would suddenly start seeing creepy ghos

After resting for a while, they walked around and saw a bookstore which they both agreed to enter. She was reading the back of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen when Jacob asked her. “What do you say let’s read horror books? Like the ones we watched today?” “Eh? I’m scared. You go read first, then give me a summary, then I’ll decide. Haha!” “Roger!” as he picked The Dunwich Horror and Others by H.P. Lovecraft and IT by Stephen King. They finished book shopping, it was around three in the afternoon when Jacob invited her to go somewhere else.

Everything now seemed a trap, a sinister game orchestrated by unseen hands. With every heartbeat, she thought she heard ghostly footsteps approaching her walls. She clutched the blanket to her chest like a child clutching a comforting toy, but the terror was greater than any blanket, thicker than any wall. Her eyes leaped to the table, where the book still lay. Its dark cover glinted faintly under a sliver of moonlight, as if it were watching her, as if its earlier fall had been a message, not an accident.