Psychotic Stories Novels & Stories

my whole body became cold after listening to it I asked "who made you people to do all these things?" my men started cutting their fingers, out of fear they told the person's name, dhiren said "I never thought this" I replied "I suspected that person already" my psychiatrist said "we told all the truth, let us go" I told to my men "he told everything whatever we want, so let him say hello to our fishes and let him go" they nodded their head

Juliette had heard these horror stories from the previous receptionist. As she got closer to the door, she heard a thud as if he had thrown his shoe at the wall. He threw things, but most often his shoes, she’d learned. She bit her lip at the thought that at least it wasn’t an employee’s head. In the brief silence that followed the thud, she slowly opened the door to his office. He was still on the phone and beckoned her to enter. She shut the door behind her and began to lay out the lunch that she had brought on the long table mostly covered in papers by his desk.

I shut Damian’s door softly, the faint click echoing too loudly in my ears. My hand lingered on the knob longer than it should have, as if I were afraid that by letting go, everything I had just heard would come rushing out to chase me down. Psychosis. That word pulsed in my head like a curse I couldn’t shake. I still heard the doctor’s voice in my ears, low but sharp with frustration: If this gets worse, it will be a bigger problem. We won’t be able to keep it a secret anymore.

She fell from the chair and onto the floor , her whole body moving as she was having an epileptic episode from excessive climaxing. The video stopped on my laptop and i found myself with my pants done and my hands on my dick, ready to stroke it for the first time. “No, do not do it. Once you start there is no going back. Go get a prostitute for the night,Rogers!” My intrusive thoughts were killing me and i decided not to do it. I wore my pants back and called Priscilla, her voice was probably the burst of dopamine i craved for. Teh line went through but there was no answer.

‎I was chasing a release, a violent, desperate one at that. ‎"Mhmm... Fuck," I moaned, as I kept plunging the little powered device into my desperate pussy, while imagining it was my sister's husband's hard cock. ‎I have been lusting over my sister's husband, Tyson since he got married to my immediate elder sister five years ago. I know it's wrong, but the man is so well built and all I've been thinking about since they got married is me choking on his erect cock. ‎To get those dirty thoughts out of my head, I had been avoiding my sister and her home. I rarely went to her house and only went there when it was important to avoid running into her hot, muscular husband and fantasizing about sex

I frowned my face then walked slowly out of the place. Was this man bipolar? I didn't understand how he used to switch from this to that... It was just really absurd to me. He was definitely bi polar or probably diagnosed with mania or something. Perhaps he had psychosis. *********** We all sat around the camp fire and listened to scary stories that Maya's dad told us. They were all lame because I didn't believe in ghosts. Maya was seated beside me and she clung to my arm like a second skin. I punched the bridge of my nose and rubbed my temples, telling the stress that had chained me to release me from it's shackles.

The sticky "oors, scarred by countless boots and forgotten dreams, told a story all their own. Each scu# and stain was a testament to spilled drinks, broken promises, and the weight of too many lonely nights. The walls, stained with years of secrets and the lingering scent of spilled whiskey, seemed to whisper tales of broken hearts and bad deci- sions. Close your eyes, and you could almost hear the echoes of laughter, argu- ments, and whispered confessions clinging to the nicotine-stained plaster. Even the neon signs, buzzing and "ickering with a tired hum, appeared weary, their blue and red light bleeding into the smoky haze that perpetually clung to the air above the bar

A man hit by a car in New York in 1977 got up uninjured, but lay back down in front of the car when a bystander told him to pretend he was hurt so he could collect the insurance money. The car then rolled forward and crushed him I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!

’ He questioned as his vision slowly cleared. The previous incident replayed in his head as he continued to silently sit on the bed, his eyes not moving anywhere else except his lap. The woman that entered earlier spoke as if she knew him, and for a long while too, yet, he couldn’t remember her at all. It was the first time in his life he had seen her. ‘Is this it? The story I am supposed to tell?’ He thought back to the words of Suit. If that was so, then how was this happening? Was he under some kind of drug?

He took a deep breath, and began to tell me the stories of the other patients in the hospital. "You see, every patient here has their own unique struggles," he said, his voice low and soothing. "There's Emma, the young woman who was laughing alone earlier. She's been struggling with schizophrenia for years, and has been in and out of hospitals for most of her life. Despite her struggles, she's one of the kindest and most gentle souls I've ever met." He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "And then there's Jack, the older man who seems lost and confused. He's been struggling with Alzheimer's disease, and has been slowly losing his memories and his sense of identity. It's heartb