Psychological Stories

A home security camera catches movement in the bedroom at 3 AM. Nothing visible except the shape of something moving under the sheets beside the sleeping homeowner.

The Dolphin Hotel's room 1408 is not haunted. The manager will tell you this directly. It is simply evil, in the way that some places are simply evil.

A horror game that creates files on your desktop and sends emails. The entity White Face knows you are playing. It has always known.

A girl named Madotsuki will not leave her apartment. She only sleeps. In her dreams is a vast world with no exit. The game has no ending. Not really.

Every counselor at Camp Ashwood knew the rule: no camper showers alone in the Founder's Building. We were never told why. Then a kid broke the rule.

When I moved in, my landlord gave me a list of rules. Strange rules. I figured it was an eccentric old man thing. Then I broke one by accident.

He sits in the rocking chair at the end of my bed. His head is dented on one side. He is dead, and he knows I can see him.

The call came in at 3:14 AM. The woman on the line said she could hear something in her walls. Then she said it was in the room. Then there was only breathing. Then there was nothing.

Someone has been living in your house. The evidence is subtle: food moved, a smell you can't place, a drawer not quite closed. Then you find the room behind the bookshelf.

Three years embalming the dead. You think you've seen everything. Then comes the woman dead for two weeks whose temperature reads 98.6 and whose hands are warm.

A 1000-piece puzzle found in a dead grandmother's attic. As it comes together, the image shows the inside of a house. Your house. With someone standing in the hallway.

The second experiment. They found a new subject. She has been in the tank for eleven days and is describing something. The researchers are not writing it down anymore.