Episodes
The Broadcast from the Starlight Drive-In at 2 AM
On a cold October night in 1987, I tuned into a dead channel and found a loop. A black-and-white film playing on the screen of the long-abandoned Starlight Drive-In off Route 11 in Millbrook, New York. But it wasn't a movie — it was a recording of a woman in a powder-blue dress, stepping out of a 1977 Ford Pinto, walking toward the screen, and vanishing. Every night, at 2 AM, she does it again. I drove out there. Her car is still parked in the last row, rusted shut. The projector in the booth…
The Broadcast from the Abandoned TV Station on Pine Street at 2 AM
In the summer of 1977, I found myself outside the old WRGM building on Pine Street in Millbrook. The station had been dark for years, but that night, every window on the second floor was lit. I went inside. The lobby was untouched, like a time capsule from the seventies. I followed a flickering light to a control room where a single monitor played the station's test pattern. That's when I saw him — a man in a suit, standing perfectly still in the center of the screen. He was young. He looked…
The Broadcast from the School on Sycamore Street
February, 3 AM. Luna drives to the abandoned Sycamore Street Elementary, closed after a child died in the gym closet twenty years ago. She brings a recorder to catch the broadcast that only plays on the old PA frequency in the gymnasium, a broadcast where a child's voice counts to ten, then silence. A former janitor told her never to stay past the last count. But tonight she is counting wrong, and the game has already begun. A slow-burn episode about hide-and-seek, unfinished play, and the…
The Broadcast from the Derelict Greenhouse on Route 9 at 4 AM
A cold winter night in 1972. Luna stops at an abandoned greenhouse on Route 9 outside of Millbrook. Inside, a black-and-white TV glows among dead plants, showing a test pattern with a figure that moves. The broadcast speaks to her — a woman who vanished years ago, still waiting for someone to listen. Luna hears a story of isolation and a plea she can't ignore. But when she steps outside, the greenhouse is gone. Now she keeps driving past that spot, never able to recapture what she saw. A quiet…
The Broadcast from the Laundromat on Pearl Street at 3 AM
November 1978. A broken washing machine at the 24-hour laundromat on Pearl Street in Harlow, Ohio. Luna's mother used to take her there on Sunday nights when the water ran hot and the fluorescent lights hummed like something trapped. Now Luna is twenty-two, sitting in her own basement at 3 AM, watching the old black-and-white TV flicker to life with a picture that shouldn't exist. The test pattern shows the inside of that laundromat. The clock on the wall reads 3:00. And in the third row of…
The Broadcast from the Cemetery on Oak Hill at 2 AM
October 1977. A flickering light in an old cemetery on Oak Hill outside the town of Raven's Hollow. Luna pulls over to investigate and finds a child's grave with a small transistor radio playing static. But when she picks it up, a voice speaks — a child counting, then a woman saying 'I know you're there.' She takes the radio home, and the counting follows her. A quiet, creeping story about the things we carry home and the voices that refuse to be left behind. #LostBroadcast #FexingoHorror…
The Broadcast from the Bunkhouse on Ridge Road at 3 AM
February 1987. The winter that wouldn't end. Luna's uncle, a lineman for the phone company, took a call no one should have answered. A repeater station on Ridge Road, five miles outside of Millbrook, New York, had been sending garbled audio for three nights. When he drove up there to fix it, he found the bunkhouse door unlocked, the generator still running, and a single cassette tape on the desk. The tape held eighteen minutes of a voice he almost recognized. He brought it home. Luna played it…
The Broadcast from the Antique Radio on Sage Street at 3 AM
In the winter of 1998, I spent a week in my grandmother's house on Sage Street in Stone Hollow, Vermont, after she passed. The house was a time capsule of the 1970s, and in the attic I found a Philco radio from 1953. I plugged it in one night at 3 AM, and it didn't hum or crackle. It played a station that didn't exist—a woman's voice, calm and clear, reading a list of names. Some I recognized from the obituaries in the local paper. Some I didn't. But the last name she read was mine. And then…
The Broadcast from the Barn on Holloway Road
It's October 1979, just past midnight on Holloway Road outside the town of Pennfield. I was driving home when I saw a light in an old abandoned barn — a light that shouldn't have been there. The barn had been empty for years, but someone was inside, and they were broadcasting. Not a radio signal — something older. A frequency that doesn't exist anymore. I went in. I found a man sitting at a table with a vintage television and a microphone. He was reading names. Names of people I knew. Names of…
The Broadcast from the Farmhouse on Lovers Lane at 4 AM
Luna recounts a night in October 1987 when her car died on Lovers Lane outside the old Harlow farmhouse near Elmswood, Ohio. She walked up the gravel drive and met a woman named Sarah who kept the television on at all hours — not to watch, but to keep something quiet. Sarah showed Luna a videotape she'd found in the attic: a local public-access broadcast from 1972, a call-in show for children, and the segment where a boy named Toby was dared to go into the barn. The tape ends with Toby's face…
The Broadcast from the Billboard on Old Mill Road at 2 AM
Luna was driving home on Old Mill Road just past two in the morning, a straight ribbon of asphalt through the pines that never seemed to end. She passed a billboard — weathered plywood, peeling paint — that had stood empty for years. But tonight it wasn't empty. A single image filled the frame: a photograph of a girl Luna recognized from the missing posters tacked up at the gas station. The girl's expression was wrong — frozen mid-plea, eyes locked on something behind the camera. Luna hit the…
The Broadcast from the Library on Mill Street at 3 AM
A librarian at the Mill Street Public Library in Dunsmore, Vermont discovers a VHS tape that doesn't belong in the collection—a home movie labeled 'Eliza's Bedroom, 1987.' The footage shows a girl sleeping peacefully until something enters through the window. When she checks the tape's metadata, the date stamp reads tomorrow. The story follows one archivist's quiet unraveling as she realizes the tape is updating in real time, recording events that haven't happened yet—including her own…
The Broadcast from the Motel on County Line Road at 2 AM
Luna recalls the summer of 1989, when she was stranded overnight at the Starline Motel on County Line Road. The place was a ruin of peeling wallpaper and buzzing neon, run by a woman named Margie who warned her not to watch the television after midnight. But the motel room had a set, and at 2 AM the screen flickered to life with a broadcast that should not have existed—a live feed from inside the motel itself, showing a door that Luna recognized as the one she was sitting in front of, and a…
The Broadcast from the Projector Booth at the Rialto on Elm Street
It's the summer of 1978 in the dying town of Millbrook, and the Rialto Theatre on Elm Street is screening its last picture show before the wrecking ball. Luna's uncle Frank runs the projector — a man who keeps the film spools spinning long after the audience has gone home. But when Luna stays behind to help him clean out the booth, she discovers that the flickering light on the screen isn't coming from any reel he loaded. There's a figure in the black-and-white static of the intermission card…
The Broadcast from the Church on Cedar Street at Midnight
Luna recounts a winter night in 1978 when a friend's grandmother called her to the abandoned First Methodist Church on Cedar Street. The old woman swore the radio in the basement had been playing her dead husband's voice. Luna found a set of headphones in a dusty Sunday school room, and heard something that made her sit in the snow for an hour afterward. Not a ghost. Not a broadcast. Something that had been waiting for the right listener. A quiet, cold episode about the things we mistake for…
The Broadcast from the Ambulance on Route 14 at 3 AM
February 1978. A rural paramedic crew in Tremont County gets a call no one logged — a woman on Route 14, rambling about a broadcast coming through her car radio after midnight. She says it's not music, not news — it's someone she used to know, speaking from inside the static. Luna's cousin drove that ambulance. He told her what they found: the car idling in a ditch, the woman hunched over the wheel, the radio still crackling with a voice that stopped the moment they cut the engine. No other…
The Broadcast from the Waiting Room on Maple Avenue at 2 AM
Luna recalls a sleepless night in the small town of Ashburn, waiting at the Greyhound station on Maple Avenue. The clock read 2 AM, and she was the only passenger. A woman in a yellow raincoat sat down beside her, spoke in riddles about a broadcast that never ends, and left behind a slip of paper with a frequency written on it. When Luna tried to tune in on her pocket radio, the static gave way to a voice she couldn't place—her own, from a conversation she never had. Now the station plays that…
The Broadcast from the Car Radio on Route 17 Near Midnight
Luna remembers a drive home on a late October night in 1983, on a dark stretch of Route 17 just outside of Millbrook. Her car radio began picking up a station that didn't exist, playing a song that was never recorded, and a voice that seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. What she found at the source of the signal — an abandoned gas station with a single light on — and what she saw through the station's grimy window, has stayed with her ever since. This episode is about the eerie…
The Broadcast from the Drive-In Screen on Old County Road
It's September 1987, and the Starlite Drive-In on Old County Road has been closed for three years. The screen still stands, a white rectangle against the tree line, peeling paint and rust. Luna's cousin Danny dared her to meet him there at midnight. He wanted to show her something—a broadcast that only comes in on the drive-in's dead speakers, a signal that flickers across the screen when you park in the exact right spot. She thought it was a prank. But the static had a shape. And the voice…
The Broadcast from the Observatory on Bald Mountain
In the autumn of 1987, Luna's childhood friend Gary took a night-shift job at the abandoned observatory on Bald Mountain, hoping for solitude and a chance to study the stars. But the telescope was already pointing, the dome already open, and the frequency it was tuned to wasn't from this world. What Gary heard that night—a voice he recognized, speaking in a language of static and grief—changed how he understood silence, and why he refuses to look up at the sky after midnight. A story about the…
The Broadcast from the Payphone at the Melwood Diner After Midnight
March 1983. A payphone rings at the Melwood Diner just past midnight on Route 17. The owner, Martin, answers it and hears his own voice — but hoarse, terrified, speaking from a place that doesn't exist yet. He doesn't recognize the address the voice gives him: the old Kessler barn on Plank Road, which burned down in 1977. But the voice knows things only he knows — his daughter's middle name, the mole on her back, the lullaby he hums when she has nightmares. Luna tells the story of a man who…
The Broadcast from the Parking Garage on Mulberry Street
August 1978. Luna's car broke down at midnight in the town of Millbrook, and the only open parking garage was the one on Mulberry Street — six stories of concrete and shadow, where the fluorescent lights hummed a half-tone flat. She met a woman named Elaine who had been sitting in her car for hours, waiting for something. The garage had its own weather: a damp chill that didn't match the summer night, and a smell like wet ash. Elaine spoke in fragments about a man who followed her from the…
The Broadcast from the Field on County Road 9
Luna remembers a summer night in 1987, when a friend's father drove out to a cornfield in rural Illinois to answer a CB radio call from a man who claimed his car had broken down. The man wasn't there. But something else was. No gore, no monster—just the sound of a radio left on in an empty field, and the thing that answered when the father keyed the mic. A slow, quiet episode about the kind of loneliness that isn't human. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #LostBroadcast #Anthology #Luna #CBRadio…
The Broadcast from the Driveway on Hemlock Lane
In the summer of 1997, a woman named Claire moved into a small house on Hemlock Lane in Elmsville. She started recording late-night static on a VCR, hoping to catch the ghost of a dead television signal. Instead, the static began recording her. One night, she watched the tape back and saw herself, still sitting on the couch, an hour after she had gone to bed. This is the story of what she found on the tape — and what she found when she went downstairs to check. A quiet, creeping story about the…
The Broadcast from the Phone at the Gas Station on Old Route 7
A cold November night in 1979. Luna pulls into a forgotten gas station on a dead stretch of Old Route 7 outside Carbondale, Illinois. The payphone rings as she steps out of her car. No one else is around. She answers. The voice on the other end is her own, from twelve years ago, asking for help she never gave. A story about missed calls, the weight of a single unanswered ring, and the long echo of a moment you can never take back. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #OldRoute7 #Carbondale #Payphone…
The Broadcast from the House on Willow Lane at 2 AM
It was the summer of 1979 when I house-sat for my aunt on Willow Lane in a town called Stone Hollow. The neighborhood was quiet, the kind of quiet where you hear your own heartbeat. But every night at 2 AM, a single porch light across the street would flicker on and off—three times, exactly three times—and then a woman's voice would whisper through my aunt's old radio, even when it was unplugged. A story about a promise made to a dead sister, a phone call that shouldn't have connected, and the…
The Broadcast from the Diner at the Junction of Route 9 and 22
Luna tells the story of a waitress named Margie at the All-Night Diner at the junction of Route 9 and 22, just outside Elmsville. It's February, the dead of winter, and the roads are empty. A man in a gray coat comes in at 2 AM, orders coffee, and never touches it. He stares at the television mounted in the corner—a CRT set showing static. But the static isn't empty. Margie sees it too: the shape of a girl, maybe seven years old, standing inside the snow. The man says her name. And the glass…
The Broadcast from the Window on Locust Street at 4 AM
It's the summer of 1987 in the small town of Abingdon, Ohio. Luna's cousin, a night-shift gas station clerk, starts noticing the same car parked across the street every night—a rusted blue Chevy Nova, engine off, a figure just barely visible behind the wheel. He never sees the driver get out, never sees the car move, but every night at exactly 4:07 AM, the window of an abandoned house above the station flickers with blue light. This is the story of what he saw in that window, and what the…
The Broadcast from the Basement on Sycamore Street
Winter 1979. A blizzard traps a woman in her own basement. The TV flickers on by itself, showing a test pattern. But the pattern is wrong — the circle is too dark, the bars are the wrong color. A voice speaks from the static, and it knows her name. It knows everything. This episode follows Julia as she tries to find the signal's source, only to discover the broadcast is coming from inside her own house. From the boiler room. From a place that shouldn't exist. A quiet, suffocating horror about…
The Broadcast from the Laundromat at the Midway Truck Stop at 3 AM
It's the dead of night at a truck stop laundromat off Interstate 44 in Missouri, and the only other person is a woman named Delia who hasn't moved from her folding table in hours. But when the dryer door swings open and it's filled with snow—not lint, not clothes, but cold dry snow—I realize the vending machine radio is playing a song that hasn't existed since 1965. This is an episode about long-haul loneliness, the kind of tired that peels back the wallpaper, and the sound of a broadcast that…
The Broadcast from the Waiting Room at the Greyhound Station in Elmsville
It's December 1987, just past 2 a.m., and the only light on Main Street comes from the Greyhound station's flickering fluorescent tubes. Luna's bus is delayed by ice on the interstate, so she waits in the plastic bucket seats, watching a black-and-white TV bolted to the wall. The test pattern shows a gray woman who wasn't there before. She points at the clock, then at Luna. The station agent drinks coffee, sees nothing, says the TV has been off since '82. But the woman keeps pointing, and the…
The Broadcast from the Laundromat on Sycamore Street
It was 1984. I was driving through eastern Ohio, trying to make it to Wheeling before midnight, when the snow on the radio got so bad I pulled off into a town called Darlington. Population 600, maybe less. The only place open was a twenty-four-hour laundromat on Sycamore Street, and I went in to wait out the storm. But the machines weren't running. And the television in the corner — an old Zenith with rabbit ears — was showing something that wasn't on any channel. A woman’s face, very still…
The Broadcast from the Storm Cellar on County Line Road
November 1978. A mechanic from a small Nebraska town takes shelter from a tornado in a stranger's cellar. The woman who lives there, Mrs. Holloway, hasn't spoken to her husband in three years — not since he went down into the basement to fix the fuse box and never came back. But the radio in the cellar still works. And sometimes, when the static clears, you can hear a voice calling from somewhere far below the house. Luna tells the story of a man who spent one night listening to a broadcast…
The Broadcast from the Parking Lot at the Starlite Drive-In
Summer 1987, a blistering August night at the Starlite Drive-In outside Elkhart, Indiana. Luna was fourteen, sitting on the hood of her father's Chevelle, watching a double feature of schlocky horror films. The screen flickered, the projector jammed, and then the test pattern came on—that same black-and-white target that had been haunting off-air channels for months. She thought she saw a figure in the static, but it was what she heard through the tinny speaker that made her skin crawl: a voice…
The Broadcast from the Elevator at the Crestwood Arms
In the autumn of 1987, Luna stays at the Crestwood Arms, a faded hotel on the outskirts of a small Wisconsin town. The elevator on the fourth floor keeps arriving empty, its doors opening to a hallway that smells of wet wool and old cigarettes. One night, she rides it down to the basement and meets a man who has been waiting for someone to press the button marked 'B2'. A story about broken things that still remember their purpose. #CrestwoodArms #ElevatorHorror #Wisconsin #1987 #Basement #Luna…
The Broadcast from the Payphone on Grayson Road
The summer of 1997. A payphone outside a gas station in Elkhorn, Indiana, starts ringing every night at exactly 2:17 AM — and keeps ringing until someone answers. Luna picks up on the third night. The voice on the other end is her own, from six hours into the future, reading a newspaper headline that hasn't been written yet. A story about memory, time, and a phone call that can't be hung up. #ElkhornIndiana #PayphoneHorror #TimeLoop #1997 #GraysonRoad #FutureCall #NewspaperHeadline #2:17AM…
The Broadcast from the Antenna Farm on Old Mill Road
November 1978. Holloway, Indiana. The antenna farm on Old Mill Road — a derelict lot of dead satellite dishes and rusting towers where the county's forgotten broadcast signals once lived. Luna's uncle, a ham radio operator, told her about the night he found a live feed on Channel Nine after every station had gone dark. A test pattern. A figure inside it. And a broadcast that followed him home. She went to see for herself, because that's the kind of thing you do when someone you trust says they…
The Broadcast from the Motel Room at the Wagon Wheel Inn
November 1979, a stretch of Route 66 outside Needles, California. I pulled off at the Wagon Wheel Inn because my headlights caught something in the road — a woman standing in the rain, no coat, no car. She didn't speak. She pointed at the motel. The manager said room six had been empty for years, but the TV was on when I unlocked the door. Snow on every channel. And behind the snow, a shape that was learning to move. This is what I saw through the static. This is what followed me home.…
The Broadcast from the Library on Birch Street
In the winter of 1987, a small-town librarian named Margaret stayed late to catalog a strange donation—a box of reel-to-reel tapes labeled only 'Readings from the Iron Door.' The recordings were old, the voice on them female, reading what sounded like diary entries in a language that was almost English but not quite. Margaret kept playing them night after night, certain she was close to understanding. Then the figure in the test pattern started looking like someone she knew. This is the story…
The Broadcast from the Bedroom on Cedar Lane
October 1978. A rainy Tuesday night in Wilton, New Hampshire. Luna visits the childhood home of her friend Emily, now abandoned, to retrieve a box of photographs. Instead, she finds the old black-and-white television still plugged in, the screen glowing with snow — and a voice that knows her name. What begins as a melancholy errand becomes a confrontation with something that has been waiting in the static for thirty years. This episode is a quiet, intimate horror about memory, grief, and the…
The Broadcast from the Church on Holloway Road
In October of 1983, Luna's aunt received a letter from a woman she hadn't spoken to in thirty years — an invitation to a church that wasn't on any map. The letter was postmarked from a town called Gethsemane, West Virginia, a place that had been listed as abandoned since 1947. Luna drove her aunt there on a rainy Sunday, past road signs that had been turned backwards and a cemetery where every headstone faced the wrong direction. The service was already underway when they arrived — the pews…
The Broadcast from the Tower on Rattlesnake Ridge
October 1987, just outside the dead town of Mercy, Colorado. A man named Frank Hodek worked the overnight shift at an abandoned UHF television transmitter on Rattlesnake Ridge. The equipment was scheduled for demolition, but someone was still broadcasting. Frank started hearing whispers from the control room speakers—voices that knew his name, that knew what he did in 'Nam. When he traced the signal to a locked sub-basement, he found a room full of televisions, all tuned to a channel that…
The Broadcast from the Chapel at Holy Cross Cemetery
October 1974. Luna's aunt Rose, a night-shift nurse at Holy Cross Memorial, starts picking up a late-night broadcast on the chapel's old black-and-white TV—a test pattern with a figure standing in the snow. The broadcasts begin at 2:47 AM, after the last patient round, and show a man in a dark coat standing in a snowfield that doesn't exist anywhere in the state. Rose watches for three nights before she recognizes the coat, the stance, the slight tilt of the head. It's her father, Luna's…
The Broadcast from the Phone Booth at the Four Corners Truck Stop
In the winter of 1989, a trucker named Cole pulled into the Four Corners truck stop outside a place called White Ash. He sat in a phone booth for two hours every Wednesday, but his calls were never to a person. Luna met him on a frozen night when she stopped for coffee and watched him dial a number he knew by heart—a number that rang an abandoned house on an empty road. What he told her, standing in the shell of that house two days later, was that he heard his own voice on the other end. Every…
The Broadcast from the Laundromat at Midnight on Route 17
In the winter of 1998, Luna's car broke down on a deserted stretch of Route 17 in upstate New York. She walked to the only light for miles: a rundown laundromat called Spin Cycle. Inside, a tired woman named Elaine was folding clothes that never stopped coming. The machines hummed with a frequency that made Luna's teeth ache. Elaine spoke in fragments, her eyes fixed on a flickering fluorescent tube. She claimed the laundromat was built on an old well, and that something down there had been…
The Broadcast from the Motel Room at the Golden Gate Inn
It's December 1979, and I'm at the Golden Gate Inn outside Ely, Nevada — a motor lodge frozen in time, with a dying heater and a TV that only picks up one station. The man in the room next to mine has been watching the same test pattern for three days. The motel clerk tells me his name is Arthur, and he hasn't left the room since he checked in. That night, I hear him talking to the television in a voice I don't recognize — a low, steady murmur, like he's repeating something someone else is…
The Snow on Channel Nineteen at the Desert View Motel
A truck driver pulls off the interstate near Hesperia, California, on a February night in 1989, stopping at the Desert View Motel. The television in his room only gets snow on every channel except one — Channel Nineteen — which shows a single static image of two children sitting at a table, not moving, not blinking. He tries to change the channel, but the remote doesn't work. He tries to unplug the set, but the image stays. The boy's mouth opens slightly, and a voice comes from the speaker, not…
The Snow on Channel Twelve at the Midway Motel
It's February 1978, and the Midway Motel outside Elko, Nevada sits empty except for one room. The snow has knocked out every channel except a flickering twelve. Luna checks in for a single night, but the snow on that channel keeps showing her the same motel room, in the same snowstorm, with a woman standing at the window who looks exactly like her. What's in room 19—and why is it always the same year, the same hour, the same knock that never comes? A tension-slow story about seeing yourself…
The Snow on Channel Eighteen at the Skyview Drive-In
October 1978. Mabel Crane, sixty-three years old, has spent every Friday night for the past thirty years at the Skyview Drive-In outside Harlow, Oklahoma. But this October, the projector keeps breaking. And when it breaks, the screen doesn't go black. It holds on a single frame of a woman standing at a window. A woman Mabel knows. A woman she watched die in 1962. The booth manager says it's just a glitch, a warped reel. But the woman on the screen is getting closer. And Mabel is starting to…
The Snow on Channel Thirteen at the Rustic Motel
A traveling salesman pulls into a rundown motel off Interstate 90 in western South Dakota during a February blizzard. The room has an old TV with a dead channel—Channel Thirteen—that only shows snow. But the snow has something moving inside it. Something that knows his name. Something that wants him to watch. And when the storm traps him for three days, he learns that the snow on Channel Thirteen doesn't just show static. It shows what you've done. And what's coming for you. A slow-burn story…
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