#Thriller

37 posts
  • bittenlips 4d

    Hidden ep-5

    I woke up, finding myself tied to a rusted chair. Denis said "You shouldn't have interfered in private life baby. I think my warning was not enough for you. Where is the Pendrive?". "You'll kill me even if I give it to you" said I. He continued "Smart! It's too late baby, I can't help you! Atleast don't let me make your death dirty and messy!". I saw my sling bag and he immediately took my bag! He cried "So here it is! Search!!". He handed it over to the other guy standing behind. "Why're you looking at me with that face?" said he. "I'm wondering, have you ever loved me?" asked I. He smirked. "The Pendrive is not in here!" the guy replied. Denis shouted "What?? What the f***? Are you still playing with me?". I replied "No, it was in my bag only! I don't know how it went missing! Check it again! Or else I must have lost it when I was running". He threw the bag on my face! (scene flashes :I slid the Pendrive in through the slightly open window pane of the car)[to be continued....]
    ©bittenlips

  • mr_stellar 1w

    Only in the recent past, I am observing the trend of people trying to tell their stories with in a poem. I've written many poems in that style before several years and in fact in my only published collection of poems, many belong to that type. Here's one such free-verse piece which I've written today for sharing with #Mirakee and #Instagram users.

    Warning: As this is an intensely #thrilling work which you may feel a bit during reading and a lot after reading, especially when you are sitting alone with your thoughts and fears, I humbly suggest over-thinkers to skip this one. It ain't much scary, but it surely is a work which will provide a different kind of fearful experience to the reader.

    The theme was taken based on some real events. This could've been perfect for the #Halloween night, but better late than never. Your honest feedback is very much welcome, which will help me to improve. As it is a complex bit of layered non-linear narrative, I request you to read the poem once again, in case if you don't get the story in the first attempt.

    #Poem #Poems #Story #Stories #Devil #Noise #Thriller #AlterEgo #Scary #POD #Psychology #Nightmare #Fear #Scare #Night #Soul @mirakee @readwriteunite @writersnetwork

    Read More

    The Inside Noise

    He knocked from inside.
    My Mom stood up from her place.

    My name is Joe.

    She called him by the pet name which she kept for her.
    His reply was another knock, which made everything else to look blur.

    I still didn't come out of my hiding.
    To know what the inside noise is, I want to keep the time biding.

    I was away for work and studies, hence my Mom missed me a lot.
    As I am her only Son, she always centered me in her thought.

    To replace me, she created 'him' inside her mind.
    She called him as "Wall Joe", her creative find.

    Did she create an evil or whether she was working like an anvil?
    I thought he surely didn't sound like a devil.

    My Dad worried about her, he called me to come home.
    His mind was working faster than my plane which came out of the aerodrome.

    When I reached during the night, I saw him with my Mom, nearby that wall.
    A hand suddenly pulled him inside, it seemed me that he will come out of the hall; oh no, forget it, he got a loud maul.

    I was stunned, terrified and speechless.
    My Mom was happy, excited and bloodless.

    Is she insane, no, she wanted to live with him.
    So, she sent her husband first as usual, in a whim.

    Can he see me from inside the wall?
    There wasn't even a drop of water inside my throat's apple ball.

    "Hey Joe, I am Wall Joe. Come inside", the voice said.
    I wish I go back to my birthday, when I was safer in my mother's bed.

    My Mom thought him as my little brother.
    Little did she know that we both were in a spot of bother.

    I ran out of my hiding, grabbed her hand and ran outside.
    No magic but without any logic, both of us were coming back inside.

    Somebody grabbed my foot and I fell down.
    When I opened up my eyes, I saw I was in my night gown.

    Thank God that this was just a nightmare.
    An owl's gowlish sound at that time made me feel like a mad mare.

    My Mom and Dad are safe at home, sleeping peacefully.
    I'm at my home in another city; my mind was clobbered by my dream; and it was behaving sleazefully.

    My Mom wasn't excited at any stage.
    It was my thought about her playful creation of my alter-ego, which had trapped me in a cage.

    I drank some water and tried to go back to sleep.
    Suddenly, the wall creaked and I heard a chilly cold whispery bleep.

    Then this came and it surely ain't look like a game.
    "Hey Joe, I am Wall Joe. Come inside..."

    The End

    © Stellar Ram 2017

  • gayatri_ 3w

    Sherlock Holmes

    One of the greatest novels ever created,
    We read, we gawked, with our breaths bated,
    Sherlock Holmes, the brainchild​ of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle,
    When the mystery unfolded, it made us smile wide,

    It's adaptation into a series was equally anticipated,
    With Benedict Cumberbatch, our hearts were sated,
    Jim Moriarty was such a delight,
    But even Dr. Watson didn't give up without a fight!

    The mystery, the thrill, the brains behind it all,
    Who wins? Sherlock or Moriarty,
    oh! It's a closecall!

    ©gayatri_

  • khayali_ashi 5w

    Knock Knock ! I stabbed him with knife. Dead.
    Wait ! Who is he ?
    I should have put on my glasses.

    Khayali_Ashi

  • khayali_ashi 5w

    She stirred poison in the milk. He drank. Died on floor. She kept looking with a Crooked Smile and said Finally its Over.
    How evil of her.
    Poor rat !

    Khayali_Ashi

  • puscifer 6w

    SNAPPED pt. 2

    I took my time with the toothpicks, going slower for the next finger. Once I was done with her right hand, I couldn't go any slower for the left. Instead, I would slowly push it in, far, and stop. Quickly push it in a little, and stop. Quickly push it in further, and stop. I continued alternating, trying my best not to follow a pattern. By the time I was finished, Donna gained her speech back.

    Why are you doing this, she pleaded. There were a million answers I could have given her, but I knew what she was doing. She would plead and beg me to stop, tell me, “If I stop now, we can just forget it ever happened”. But she wouldn't “forget”, Donna never forgets when someone gets one over on her. She just wanted me to stop and let my guard down so she could release her cunting boyfriend, tie me up, and torture me for revenge.

    Once she realized that begging wouldn't work she tried to guilt trip me. How could you do this to me, your MOTHER, after everything I've done for you?! I've done nothing but love you and give you everything. This is how you repay me! As soon as the words left her lips my mind went back to my first memory from 19 years ago, to my babysitter's son pulling up my dress and touching me, sodomizing me with a butter knife, and making the other little girl watch and participate. To my mom dropping me off in the morning as I cried, screamed, and begged her not to leave me there. To my doctor asking me if someone touched me. Being a scared and traumatized four-year-old, I lied. But Donna knew, there's no way she didn't know.

    I went to my room and brought back my craft box. Which was really a toolbox filled with pencils, pens, paints, glues, everything I needed for small craft projects. I took out an old, long necklace box. Inside was my best, and sharpest, X-ACTO knife. I put the box aside, lifted up the tray, and dug around some more for another box. This one containing brand new razor blades from when I was a cutter. Although I stopped cutting my wrists eight years ago, I would still cut in hidden places from time to time. I carefully took out two razor blades and saw Donna start to panic.

    Please, oh please, oh no! I pressed my finger against my lips in a shhhh-ing gesture. To my surprise, Donna immediately shut up. The corner of my mouth turned up in a smirk, I wouldn't have to worry about listening to her for much longer.

    With my fingers on either side of her chin, I pulled her mouth open slightly. Don't bite, I warned. I opened her mouth wider and pressed the blade to the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were filled with terror as she let out a pathetic whimper. It made me so excited my sex started to tingle. In one quick motion, I pushed the blade in and sliced out, cutting into her cheek only about half of an inch. Not enough, I told her. I put the very end of the blade into the slice this time. Tears were spilling down her cheeks and into the crevice, I hope it burns, bitch. I made sure to push harder, and sliced with the same quick motion as before. This time, the cut went halfway through her cheek, blood came waterfalling down. Most of it was going into her mouth, making her choke on her sobs. Perfect. She tried to scream between her sobs, but made a weird gurgling sound as blood continued to pour into her mouth. She started coughing to get it out, which I could tell caused her a great deal of pain. She flinched away when I grabbed her chin again. I yanked her forward to show her who was in charge. I opened her mouth as wide as it would go to help the tearing. I put a new blade in the corner of her mouth, pressed in until I saw blood, and in the same quick movement, sliced the other corner open. It was deeper than my first attempt, but still not deep enough. She tried to scream for help, but the sound that came out sounded like those damn rabbits. I pulled her chin down one more time. I couldn't help but laugh as she squirmed and tried to loosen the tape. It was the happiest I remember being in a very, very long time. After the last slice she tried to cry for help again, but there was so much blood only a gurgle came out.

    I stepped back to look at my handy work. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, her jaw was slack. I assumed I had cut through some sort of muscle that controlled her jaw. She looked catatonic, and I wasn't sure if she was going into shock or just accepted her fate. For good measure I went to the fridge and got two Epinephrine pens.

    Don't want you falling asleep on me, I told her, pressed the uncapped pen to her leg, and pushed the button. She jolted in her chair, her eyelids opened so wide I thought her eyeballs would pop out.


    ©puscifer

  • puscifer 6w

    SNAPPED pt. 1

    Everyone has a breaking point. But once you reach that point, there's no going back until something is done about it. Let's say you're worried your wife is cheating on you. You tell yourself you're fine, that it's all in your head. After all, you don't have any concrete evidence. But deep down you know it's true. You start to lash out at everyone: co-workers, friends, The Bitch herself. They'll try to talk to you, ask, “Hey, what's going on? You've been snapping at everyone lately. Everything O.K. at home?” But you haven't even come close to snapping yet. You won't snap until you come home to your whore wife and Bob, her co-worker she swore was “just a friend”, fucking in your marital bed. You'll walk away with the calm that only comes over someone who's truly snapped. The wives that freak out and dismember their husband's pecker after catching him with his secretary haven't actually snapped. That's more like a fit of rage. You'll grab your 12 gauge from the hall closet and smoke both of them without any time for a rebuttal, explanation, or pleading. They made their bed, and now they'll lie in it for the short remainder of their lives.

    I've had my fair share of fits. I've broken dishes, punched holes into the walls, and once took a baseball bat to everything in my old apartment. A shrink might say I snapped, that I have “anger problems”. And the latter may be true, but the emotions I felt then were anger and hatred. I felt nothing when I truly snapped, no joy and not even remorse for what I had done.
    * * * * * *
    Before the incident I had thought about my mother's (Donna’s) death frequently: ways I wish she would die, ways I wanted to watch her die. I wholeheartedly hated the woman. But it wasn't until right before I snapped that I started thinking about killing her. You may argue that makes it “premeditated”, but it's important that you understand the differences in my state of mind (or lack thereof) before, during, and after I lost it.

    My mother and I never got along. As a child I was completely ignorant to how vile of a person she really is. Once I became a teenager and her true self became more and more obvious, I couldn't even live with the woman for more than a few months. But I still accepted her for who she was: trash. It was what it was, she's still my mother, blah blah blah. But as a human I could only take so much. And just when I thought she couldn't be any more vile, she surprised me yet again. My fragile human psyché couldn't take anymore, and I snapped.
    * * * * * *
    The day started just like any other. I had recently lost my job and had to move back with Donna. It wasn't long until she got a job, and I was happy for her. But it didn't take long for her boyfriend, who never came home before 9, to start coming back shortly after she left at noon. Him and I had our differences (her word for it) in the past. He once took pictures of me sleeping in a t-shirt and underwear, and send them to my father. God only knows what he did with them in his spare time. He had also liked to text me about watching me sleep “in my teeny tiny underwear”, walking back and forth to get “another peek”. Last time I moved back home I showed Donna these texts. She was understandably disgusted and threw him out. It was only two days until he was back.

    This would become a common occurrence with Donna and her man. He would act inappropriately, and she would “kick him out” just so he could come back within a day or two. So when he started coming home early all of a sudden I knew where it was headed, and I knew telling her would solve nothing. I would tell myself, as long as he doesn't touch me, I can just let it go.

    But I couldn't really let it go. Everyday he would expose himself to me, put his hands on my hips to walk behind me when he had plenty of room to get by. I tried convincing myself, it's no big deal it could be worse. But it was eating me away inside.

    For months I kept my mouth shut. If I told Donna she wouldn't do anything about it, as usual, and I'd be risking getting kicked out myself. She couldn't lose her meal ticket, so I endured it. Until the day he took it too far.
    * * * * *
    I didn't just snap after he raped me, I fucking shattered. He didn't leave the house after he was done with me. He stayed in their room next to the bathroom (which doesn't have a lock on the door, of course) to intimidate me. Calling the police never even crossed my mind. I just had to get into the bathroom.

    I sat on the floor and cried for five hours until Donna got home. I couldn't bring myself to even look at the bed where it happened, let alone sit on it. I whimpered and shook every time I heard him walk by my door, his footsteps echoing in my ears. As soon as I heard the front door close at 5 o'clock, I bolted for the bathroom. I frantically looked through the medicine cabinet and closet. Looking for what? I wasn't sure until I found it: the bottle of Clorox under the sink. It felt like I was moving in molasses, my arms weighed a hundred pounds. I already had the douche bottle in my hand and was emptying it out until I was consciously aware of my plan.

    After a few tries, I finally filled the bottle with Clorox and took off my clothes. I sat down on the toilet, the cold seat making me jump. I started shaking as I opened my legs, knowing I was about to feel violated all over again. I inserted the nozzle and squeezed the bottle. The burn from the bleach was instant. My eyes watered, I started crying again. The pain brought me back to earlier that day, but it also felt cleansing. I continued to douche with the bleach until the bottle was empty.

    Standing up from the toilet, my knees were shaking so badly I dropped to my hands. The tub wasn't far so I crawled the rest of the way. I turned on the hot water and poured in the rest of the bleach. I braced myself for the pain, but getting into that tub was worse than I thought. I wasn't prepared for every orifice, scrape, and hair follicle to burn like I was dipped in acid. I expected to look down and see my skin melting off. But the pain distracted me from the pain I had inside of me. It brought me out of the catatonic-like state I was in and back to reality. The sick reality that Donna's boyfriend raped me, and there was nothing I could do about it. But that was going to change.

    Looking back, I can think of a million excuses for why I bleached away all of the evidence and didn't go to the cops. I was traumatized, broken, humiliated, embarrassed, too emotionally fragile. But the truth is that I wanted to get revenge. I'd be damned if I let Donna and her boyfriend make me a victim.
    * * * * * *
    Growing up I always hated living in the middle of nowhere. None of my friends were within walking distance. Being surrounded by woods, I often went to sleep listening to a rabbit being chased and killed by a fox or coyote. Sure, that's just nature, and finding what remained of the carcasses didn't bother me. It was their screams that sound like a child or woman screaming for their life. It didn't matter if it was the first time or millionth time. Those screams always sent a chill down my spine and gave me nightmares. The only good thing about that house was no annoying neighbors for at least a mile, especially on that day.

    I started dinner early, taking my time to make it perfect. I needed them to eat every single bite. I brought out the ketamine I had been stockpiling for months. Looks like I'll have to find another way to enjoy Coachella this year. I mixed all five grams into my homemade mashed potatoes, something I knew they would enjoy, and not leave a single bite of.

    The ketamine took effect quicker than I thought, about thirty minutes. As soon as they were passed out I duct taped their ankles and torso to their chairs, and taped their wrists together behind their backs. I tried not to overdo their bindings; I needed access to their bodies, but I needed them to be secure.

    After they were secured to their chairs I noticed my adrenaline was rushing and I felt sick to my stomach. Am I really going to do this? It isn't too late to turn back, they won't even remember any of this. Then I heard Donna moan as she started to come out of her k-hole. The longer I looked at her, the angrier I became. It was her fault that little cunt raped me. If she had gotten rid of him any of the numerous times he was inappropriate with me, this never would have happened. But instead she gave him a free pass the very first time he got away with it. He kept pushing the limit to see if she would stop him. She might as well have told him it was okay to rape me, she'd just act stupid and ignorant to the whole thing, as usual. I know that if I had gone to the cops,  she would've given him an alibi. And if they presented her with physical evidence, she would renege on the alibi. But go on to tell them what a slut I am, that he was vulnerable, and I took advantage of him!

    That last realization was what did it for me. My fear turned into rage. Donna groaned again, louder this time, and started to open her eyes. I couldn't even focus on the cunt next to her, my rage had tunnel vision.  A Boeing 747 could crash down on our front yard and I wouldn't have noticed.

    I took the box of toothpicks out of the cabinet and pushed one under her fingernail. Her eyes popped open, practically bulging out of their sockets. She didn't scream or yell, I'm not sure if she was even able to, but the toothpick definitely sobered her up a little. I pushed the toothpick in further, and further until it snapped. Blood dripped off her fingertip. I moved on to the next finger and went slower this time. Donna's eyes were watering. She was moaning and loudly groaning, but couldn't scream or form coherent sentences yet.


    ©puscifer

  • turbulent_thoughts 6w

    The Red Wall is a poem which has the elements of horror and thriller. It will have many parts and this is the first one. I will post the second part soon enough..till then happy reading!!


    #horror #thriller #theredwall #part1 #writersnetwork #readwriteunite #writerssociety #likesforlike #it #followforfollow #poemsporn #wattpad #wordporn #pod #igpoets #igpoetsociety #deadpoetssociety #tt #turbulentthoughts

    Read More

    The Red Wall

    Stars were spreading across the sky;
    beautifying the desolate palace with a pale white colour that was horrifying.
    As the screeching and howling of owls and wolves echoed through the woods ;
    Lightning was gradually building up in the sky,
    Just ready enought to flare up the surroundings by.

    Amidst all this a young lad of twenty with a death like pallor walked briskly in a haphazard path.
    He looked at the castle with his green eyes that were reflecting nothing but voidness.
    As he looked at a rifleman bird fly by,
    He took a step forward and knocked at the old, huge, rusty door of the castle that was once its symbol of magnificence .

    His blank eyes were staring out in the darkness when he heard a creak,
    and the door jostled open.
    A flick of terror flashed across his eyes;
    .............
     


    ©turbulent_thoughts

  • sawan_k_ 7w

    You're the next

    I returned home and found my sister hanging dead from the ceiling.
    I saw some letters written with blood on the wall~
                         You're the next
    But I couldn't find a single drop of blood on my sister's body.Just then,I realized that I was standing in a pool of blood from under the bed.I lowered my head and saw my sister,red in blood,pointing
    upwards on the hanging body.And as I
    saw towards the body,it grinned and
    jumped upon me.


    ©sawan_k_

  • sawan_k_ 7w

    You're the next......
    #horror #mystery #thriller #blood

    Read More

    I returned home and found my sister hanging dead from the ceiling.
    I saw some letters written with blood on the wall~
                         You're the next
    But I couldn't find a single drop of blood on my sister's body.Just then,I realized that I was standing in a pool of blood from under the bed.I lowered my head and saw my sister,red in blood,pointing
    upwards on the hanging body.And as I
    saw towards the body,it grinned and
    jumped upon me.


    ©sawan_k

  • arveetmaan 8w

    Hope

    Sometimes hope is not the best thing-it makes you go wrong way and you end up ruining most important decision of life,whether to keep trying or to let go....!!

  • sawan_k_ 10w

    It was a stormy night.
    He was constantly staring at a
    waving tree outside his window.
    Suddenly, he saw an appearance of
    a girl near the tree. He screamed as
    he went near her, as she was the
    same girl who was lying beneath
    his bed, stabbed a dozen times.


    ©sawan_k

  • dandandandalandan 11w

    "Mommy, please check if there's a monster under my bed." I giggled at his blind belief and for his satisfaction, I looked down and saw him, another him; quivering as he whispered "Mommy, there's someone on my bed."

  • ashen_one 15w

    Option

    “If you kill me, your wife dies”, the man said in a hauntingly familiar voice.

    He adds, “Join me and she'll live.”

    I’ve been unsuccessfully working on a time machine for the last fifteen years and the man I am pointing my gun at claims I succeeded, as he is none other than me from the future.

    He travelled back in time to stop some men from killing my wife. After disposing them, he now wants to execute their children too ever they consider retaliation.

    My hands trembled seeing the monster I’ve become. This isn’t the man my wife loves. Killing him will only initiate the cycle, so there’s only one option.

    I closed my eyes and placed the gun on my head.


    ©ashen_one

  • analytical_monk 15w

    MUSE

    She laid beside him peacefully as he wrote the poem.
    It was like many nights that had come before and yet unlike any of them.

    The crimson hue shone under moonlight
    from a nearby window.
    It made him smile as he paused to admire his creation.

    He continued carving words on his motionless lover.
    "I always used to tell you, didn't I?
    You are not just a muse; you are my poem."

    ©analytical_monk

  • papri96 17w

    Ordinary to Extraordinary

    "Meera,a letter come for you.see it.its on the study table."
    "Ok ma.but who send letter to me"meera thought.
    She went to her room and opened the letter.
    Mahima Roy,Meera's mom heard a loud scream from her daughter's room after that.she ran to the room.





    "What do you think Ms.Meera Eleonoa about your new project?you also brought a new company few days ago.How you manage both you Royal responsibility and this huge business Empire which you are extending in day & night?"the anchor asked with a very professional smile.
    "I think my new project also going to get huge success as usual.

  • decofan24 21w

    Eyes in the rear-view.
    Still miles to the nearest town.
    Will he follow there?


    ┬ędecofan24

  • decofan24 21w

    Eyes closed

    Shower fog reveals
    Your message on my mirror.
    Were you watching me?


    ┬ędecofan24

  • adarshnaini 23w

    Not me

    Last night, you were here.
    I could feel your breath,
    Right under my ear,
    You were eavesdropping on my dreams.
    You were in the dream too,
    You wanted to kill me.
    You dont realise it yet,
    But this is what I made you write.
    An anecdote for yourself in a trance
    ©adarshnaini

  • dailyprompts 25w

    Ahh, I forgot about this app tbh. Oops.
    -----
    Be sure to let me know if you write anything based off this. I would love to read it!
    -----
    I use "I" as a placeholder, but you can substitute that for you own character.
    -----
    #writingprompts #dailyprompts #horror #suspense #thriller

    Read More

    03.

    When I look in the mirror, sometimes the reflection blinks before I do.

    Sometimes it waves at me when I want to keep my hands still.

    Sometimes it frowns when I'm practising a smile.

    But that's all fine.

    It's when I look in the mirror, and I see it behind me that I start to freak out.