psychological
Mind games taken way too far; explore the disturbing genre of psychological thrillers that make us question our perception of sanity and reality.
Never Drink with the Wolf
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. She had been distracted, searching for mushrooms and lost track of the sun. It was the light from the candle that shook her. Took her attention. Stopped her. She did this track every season, wandering underneath the pine trees searching for saffron milk caps. It was always safe. It was always private and peaceful and the few others that walked the path, were familiars. Happy people getting in touch with nature and sharing found produce. Happy locals. Happy tourists.
By kylie saab4 years ago in Horror
The Hunger of the Forest
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The city folk had always feared the cabin, as stories had been told of a family experiencing a gruesome death of unknown cause. Folks believed the cabin to be haunted by the spirits of this family. Even the authorities that would have torn the cabin down or sold it to new owners refused to do so. No one wanted any connection to the cabin, and outsiders that asked about it were quickly silenced. Talking about this cabin was forbidden in the city.
By Jayme Cameron4 years ago in Horror
A Glimmer In The Mire?
"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window." He must have seen it in the distance... seen but from the road, in the distance between the pavement and what lay in between. There was nothing else out there... but perhaps that glimmer in his mind. IT WAS AS THOUGH HE WERE INVITED BY THE HAUNTING ECHO OFF THRU THE FOGGED EVE, "Hoohoot hoo-hoot" and the dancing light of the candle. Along the road were hand-etched headstones. Engraved with the likeness of a carcass. We had all heard the story before. A carcass of the previous person who was now reduced to nothing except a pile of slimed flesh reminiscent of things already long buried. The flesh of things and folk long before our time would soon deteriorate and resemble a layer of ash. Flesh once subtle with life-giving juices. The fluid of life that runs dry with time. Flesh leaks fluid and eventually sags into self until there is nothing. Nothing but dust. Dust is to dust, and ever shall be. As the fog crept thick about them, mother and children huddled tightly awaiting notice of the man's return. He had stepped out of and away from the car suggesting that he would seek help for the stalled engine. He stepped away just before the first low "Hoohoot... hoo-hoot" pierced the heavy fog. Owls were common in the rural preserve, as such the sound never startled him. It did not touch his attention beyond the grasp of the glimmer of light, the fog, and the aura of death that found and drew him near. No one else had wandered that far or in that way... as far as we knew. The overgrowth of plants hung low, never shorn for keeping what was inside them... no one ventured there, beyond the roadway. This night nothing of substance was visible, including the man in his departure. Nothing except the occasional emergence of an outline of a headstone. He had stopped the car and stepped away. He'd not raised the hood or set a blinking caution light. He'd simply stepped away.
By CarmenJimersonCross4 years ago in Horror
Side Effects
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The single candle stood out like a beacon of hope and safety. Jay stood looking. The cabin, with it’s candle of safety and hope, looked so far, far away. “Too far” echoed through her mind. Her shoulders slumped. “But it looks familiar” she thought, familiar in a strange kind of way. The term ‘oddly comforting’ sprang to mind.
By JD Grainger4 years ago in Horror
Written in Shadows
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Granted, the cabin in front of her was more a shack than a cabin, the window more of a hole in the wall, and it was midday, not nighttime. But Park Ranger Christie Adams was an aspiring writer, and embellishing the truth was her trade.
By Claire Lindsey4 years ago in Horror
Dinner
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. I slowly walked around the old rusted gate, trying to get a better look inside.The clouds are full tonight and a light drizzle begins. I definitely don’t remember a candle being lit ever in that cabin, could it be another survivor? The grass was cold and wet against my ankles as my curiosity pushes me forward. Every night for months I’ve walked the perimeter looking for signs of life after the blast. This is the first time I’ve found anything concrete. This is supposed to be a dead zone, and it isn’t the only one out there. After The Great Voltaic War, cities and towns are so rare that the majority of us have given up hope in finding one. I was a scout for a small team of survivors, out searching for food and supplies. Moving closer to the cabin, to get a better view from the old worn window. Someone or something was definitely inside. I never thought the day would come, I haven’t met anyone new in over three years. After the EMP blasts billions of lives were lost world wide. Everything was gone, there were miles of abandoned homes, schools and businesses. The EMP bombs managed to take out every single grid on the planet. I bet this old cabin didn’t even notice it happened.
By Heather Payton4 years ago in Horror
