Most Disturbing Psychological Horror Books の小説・ストーリー

It no longer sounded entirely like Quinton. Unlike before, when smoke had drifted from his fingers, this time a thick white vapor poured from his hand. It twisted through the air like a living mist. A chill swept through the room. The chandelier trembled. The curtains began to move despite the windows being shut. My eyes widened. The book suddenly started flipping through its pages at an alarming speed. The pages turned so fast that they became a blur. Then the book lifted into the air by itself. I slowly stood. The room had become unnaturally silent. The book finally stopped at a single page and hovered above Damien's body. White smoke poured from the page as if something trapped inside the

I approached the woman and washed my face and went out again and changed my clothes to comfortable ones and sat on the bed and picked up a book from under the bed. It is not an ordinary book, it is a book of magic. I read what it contains exactly what I want, and I realized what I fell into... It says that every time I close my eyes for more than a second I will see what terrifies me the most that made me change, but the way is not mentioned. He took care of all of that and fell asleep, but no way I didn't even sleep just put my head on the pillow I swear, I woke up screaming panic this time it wasn't normal more terrifying and I feel like it.

To her own time that stood still, and the distortion that none of them notice or even felt. The psycho draws a lustful smile as her golden colored eyes reflected her very image where time ticks, yet not on her. Worst and out of a fix horror, without a blink as no one of them had the chance to, everyone falls dripping with their blood, dead and rolling without their head. To the mansion that is being painted with everyone’s blood and the screams that exchange the bliss and festivity of the night. God’s howls as the storm that supposed to be a blessing, turns into a nightmare. As it speaks. “Shall I play?” asking, yet more like taunting.

The dark veins on her neck moved slightly with her pulse. -- Lucian had left three boxes of books stacked against the far wall of the main room and I opened the first one and started reading and did not stop for hours. Most of it was terrifying in the specific way that information is terrifying when it confirms the worst thing you were already afraid of. Soul possession through blood magic. The host soul weakens incrementally with each surfacing of the invading consciousness. Over time the host's grip on their own body becomes unreliable, then intermittent, then absent. The invader does not kill the host. They simply crowd them out, slowly, until there is nothing of the original person left

I could only hope that she would have settled in again by tonight, because otherwise I would be allowed to sleep on the couch one night again - and it was really uncomfortable. Sighing, I leaned back and opened the completely tattered book again, which I actually already knew by heart. But I wanted to repeat as much as possible today so that I could get off to a good start tomorrow. I ran my finger over the familiar table of contents. Foreword, evolution, instinct, social life, physiology, reproduction, ancestry, stem groups and subspecies. How many times had I made this movement with my finger? I couldn't count it anymore, but it was like a little ritual I had to go through before I could s

Mason. The golden morning sun spills into the library, creating spectral dancing patterns on the brown wooden floor. A little ray shading on my face but that didn't deter my attention from the fantasy book I was reading. I blink away the tiredness forming on my eyelids for the umpteenth time, flicking to the next page. Not attempting to allow myself to fall asleep. I can't! Every fucking time I close my eyes I can't help but see a bloody vivid image of that gore sight I saw earlier. It makes my skin crawl. I hate it!

“After the accident I drank more, usually at night, so I could sleep. I didn’t write at all, not anything that mattered, anyway, because I was never sober. And that thing in the shadows was always waiting for me in my nightmares, or every time I closed my eyes. That and those damned whispers. You know after a while, I wrote those words down and Googled them. Want to know what they mean?” I shake my head because suddenly, I want this to be done. Gavin’s a great guy but I just want this to be done. My gut’s been squirming the whole time and even though I know these stories can’t be true, I can’t deny a feeling of instinctual dread about the other stories in this book, and what they’ll say. Bec

A female police officer shouted: “Could it be that he is Albert, the famous criminal psychologist detective who has solved many difficult cases. I still have his book The Punisher here. The book is about the tough murders he has solved, including his analysis of the psychology of criminals in detail. I didn't expect him to be so young and handsome." Albert entered the room, meeting his eyes was a very strange atmosphere. In the dim light of the white room, a middle-aged man was lying at the far end of the room; in the center of his chest were numerous stab wounds. He lay in a pool of blood with his eyes wide open, and inside those eyes were fear and despair. The most striking thing is still

It simply disintegrated, then reappeared back in the car. “Sick bastard,” I spat. He'd been stalking me. I tore a slim black book from the rat pile. Book of Psychopomps was etched on it in gold ink. Numbers, emails, and old-fashioned addresses accompanied names, written in no apparent order. I rifled through the pages: “Old farts: ODIN, MORRIGAN, YAMA, HERMES....” and “New pests: ANAESTHESIA, AIDS, SANTA MUERTE...” A red ribbon marked a page at the back. “Accessories: SHANNON PARKER.”