Episodes
The Dowsing Rod on Serpentine Road
October in the town of Morrow, and a woman named Elise brings a tarnished brass dowsing rod to Luna's pawnshop. Her father, a geologist, left it behind, but it wasn't for water. Elise followed it to an empty lot where it pulled her toward a single spot. She never dug. But the rod kept drawing her back. Luna takes it off her hands, and that night, alone in the shop, she feels the same pull—toward the old well beneath the floorboards. A story about inheritance, buried things, and the weight of…
The Phonograph on Gravel Pit Road
A man brings a phonograph into the pawnshop on a cold autumn evening. He says it belonged to his daughter, who died three years ago. The cylinder still plays her voice—a lullaby she used to sing. But lately, the recording has been changing. New words. A different voice. Something else is speaking through the grooves. He wants to leave it here, and I let him. But after he's gone, the phonograph starts playing on its own. And it knows my name. Set on Gravel Pit Road in the town of Millbrook, this…
The Locket on Furnace Creek Road
Morrow's Mill, Louisiana. Summer 1984. A woman in a faded floral dress brings a tarnished locket to the pawnshop. Inside: a lock of hair that never cools. As Luna holds it, she feels a faint, rhythmic pulse—like a heartbeat. The woman returns week after week, but the pulse is fading. A story about holding on to what's already gone. No neat endings here—just the weight of something that refuses to let go. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #ThePawnshop #Locket #FurnaceCreekRoad #MorrowsMill…
The Camera on King's Highway
A vintage camera arrives at the pawnshop, brought in by a man named Elias Thorne. He found it in his late grandfather's attic—a photographer who vanished in the fall of 1972. Inside was a roll of undeveloped film. When Elias had it processed, every frame showed the same woman standing in a doorway that no longer existed. He couldn't stop looking. He started seeing her in reflections, in the corner of his eye. Then one morning, he was gone. Now the camera sits on the shelf behind the counter…
The Catechism on Baxter's Bridge
October 1995. A man named Ellis brings a leather-bound catechism to Luna's pawnshop, claiming he found it under the Baxter's Bridge trestle. He says the book reads itself aloud at midnight, and that the voice inside it knows things it shouldn't — names of the dead, the date of his own death. Luna takes the book on consignment, and that night, alone in the shop, she opens it. The words don't speak. They wait. And then, at exactly twelve o'clock, they start to read her back. #BaxterBridge…
The Typewriter on Blight Lane
October 1987. Luna drives backroads near the Arkansas-Missouri line and stops at a roadside antique shop called The Last Word. Inside, she finds a mint-condition Hermes 3000 typewriter with a stuck carriage and a single typed sentence still in the roller: 'I know what you did.' The owner tells her it came from a foreclosure — the old Weaver place on Blight Lane. Luna buys it for twenty dollars. That night, in her motel room, she loads a fresh sheet and starts typing a letter to her sister. The…
The Cradle on Flint Creek Road
A woman brings a rocking cradle to the pawnshop on a February night in 1997. She says it belonged to her grandmother, but she cannot explain why every one of her grandmother's children died before their second birthday. Luna traces the cradle back through a century of births and stillbirths along Flint Creek Road, Texas, and finds a pattern that does not break. It does not end. It only waits. The story lingers in the sound of a cradle rocking on an empty floor. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast…
The Pocket-Watch on Grayson Trace Road
A woman brings a pocket-watch into Luna's pawnshop one November evening. The watch belonged to her father, who vanished twenty years ago from a stretch of road called Grayson Trace. She found it in an old coat pocket, still ticking, with the date of his disappearance etched inside the lid. As she tells her story, the watch begins to tick backward—and Luna realises the woman has been dead for ten years. A quiet, devastating episode about time, grief, and the things we carry. #FexingoHorror…
The Rifle on Parson's Mill Road
In the fall of 2017, a woman named Ellen brought a vintage Winchester into the pawnshop on a Tuesday night. She said it belonged to her grandfather, a man who had spent his last years in a nursing home in Cold Spring, New York, refusing to speak about the war. But the rifle had a story of its own—a story that began in a farmhouse outside Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, in 1863, and ended in a field where the corn grew in spirals. Luna listened as Ellen described the dreams that started after she…
The Tuning Fork on Orchard Hollow Road
Summer of 1998. Orchard Hollow Road, Vermont. A woman named Maura brings a tuning fork into the pawnshop, claiming it fell out of her dead grandfather's piano—a man who, in his final weeks, had become obsessed with a single, inaudible note. Luna tells the story of tracing that note through the man's journals, his recordings of silence, and the crack in the wallpaper of his bedroom where something had begun to seep through. No jump scares. No gore. Just the slow, terrible discovery that some…
The Cello on Whitfield Lane
In the autumn of 2019, I bought a cello from a house on Whitfield Lane in the town of Millbrook. The woman who sold it to me, Mrs. Harlow, was too eager to be rid of it. She told me it had belonged to her daughter, who had died the winter before. The cello played beautifully—too beautifully. At night, I woke to the sound of someone bowing the open strings. The shop door would swing open, letting in the cold. Eventually, I found a letter sealed inside the case, written in a girl's hand. It was a…
The Bullhorn on Lovers Lane
Luna tells the story of a bullhorn that appeared overnight on a telephone pole at the edge of Lovers Lane in Bishopsville, Georgia, in the summer of 1987. It amplified every whisper and every secret for a mile in every direction. The kids who found it used it for dares and confessions, until the bullhorn started speaking back in voices it should never have known. By the time the sun came up, the lane was empty and the bullhorn was gone. But the echoes stayed. This episode is about the things we…
The Loom on Pettigrew Lane
In the autumn of 1992, a woman named Eleanor brought a handloom into the pawnshop on a rainy Tuesday. She said it had been her grandmother's, and she needed the money for a bus ticket out of town. But the loom came with a pattern still threaded through its heddles — a pattern Eleanor never finished weaving. Luna remembers the way the warp threads glistened under the shop's fluorescent lights, and how Eleanor's hands trembled when she touched the shuttle. Over the next few nights, Luna found…
The Music Box on Juniper Lane
A woman brings a child's music box into the pawnshop on a humid August afternoon. The box plays a lullaby that Luna has never heard before, and the woman insists it remembers things—not songs, but moments. She asks Luna to take it because her daughter began humming back what the box played at night, and the daughter's drawings changed. Luna agrees to keep it, but that night she winds it in her apartment and hears, for the first time, a melody that sounds like a door opening into somewhere cold.…
The Mirror on Stillwater Road
It arrived behind a pawnshop delivery door in a plain pine crate, no return address, no note—just a full-length mirror in a tarnished silver frame. Luna doesn't believe in haunted objects, but she believes in what she saw in that reflection: a woman in a blue dress who wasn't Luna, standing in the same room, mirroring nothing and everything wrong. The woman didn't move like a person. She moved like something learning how to be seen. And when Luna turned away—when she forced herself to look…
The Baby Grand Piano on Grace Street
Luna recalls a winter night in the small town of Coldwater, Vermont, when a man brought in a baby grand piano that had been in his family for three generations. He claimed it played by itself every night at 2:17 AM, always the same melody, always waking him from the same dream. Luna agreed to hold it in the pawnshop for a week, but on the third night she heard it too. The keys moved on their own, pressing down a lullaby she remembered from childhood—but she never learned to play piano. Now she…
The Lock on Drowned Man's Creek
Late October near Drowned Man's Creek, a woman named Eleanor brings a heavy iron lock into Luna's pawnshop. She found it in a flooded basement on Simpson Creek Road, still chained to a hasp bolted to nothing. Luna takes it in, goes to open her ledger, and notices the lock has no keyhole. The story that follows came from Eleanor's journals, which she left behind. It begins with a man named Callum who built a house on a flood plain, who sealed something in his basement in 1997, and who never…
The Weather Vane on Hook and Eye Road
In the autumn of 1997, a man named Caleb Phelps brought a brass weather vane into Luna's pawnshop. It was shaped like a rooster with a twisted neck and an arrow that spun in the wrong direction. He'd found it in the barn of his late grandfather, a man who had spent his last thirty years watching the sky from a rocking chair. Caleb said the vane pointed west no matter what the wind did. He wanted it gone. Luna paid him forty dollars and watched him drive away too fast. That night the vane's…
The Ouija Board on Route 9 North
A frigid night in January 2020 on a forgotten stretch of Route 9 North in upstate New York. Luna’s friend Jenna buys a vintage Ouija board from the pawnshop — a gift for her girlfriend’s birthday. The board comes with a note taped to the box: 'Say hello to Mary for me.' The planchette spells things neither woman knows. A quiet story about what we invite in, and what was already waiting. Luna tells it from behind the counter, the neon sign buzzing, the board still sitting in the back room.…
The Harp on Sycamore Lane
A woman brings a Celtic harp into the pawnshop on a humid August afternoon in 2019. She says it belonged to her grandmother, who played it every night until she died. Luna takes it in, but that night she hears a single string pluck from the back room—a note she recognizes from a story the grandmother told about a drowned child and a promise made at the river's edge. When Luna tries to return the harp, the woman is gone, and the house at 14 Sycamore Lane has been empty for thirty years. A quiet…
The Painting on Parson's Mill Road
Luna recounts a winter night in 2006 when a woman brought in a landscape painting — a view of a covered bridge and a mill that burned down decades ago. The brushwork was exquisite, but the date in the corner was wrong. Luna hung it in the back room, and that's when the clocks began to tick in unison, and the footsteps started on the stairs. A story about a painting that remembered something the town had forgotten, and the two hours that vanished from Luna's life without explanation.…
The Lockbox on Simpson Creek Road
In the autumn of 1994, on a gravel stretch outside a town called Mercy, a lockbox was brought to the pawnshop by a man who had found it in the crawlspace of his late grandmother's house. Inside was a brass key and a letter that read, "You will know the door when you hear it." But the lockbox itself was not the item—it was the memory embedded in its lining, a memory that belonged to someone else, and which began to play over Luna's hands every time she touched the velvet. A story about…
The Tea Set on Whistler Lane
It was late autumn, the kind of cold that settles into bone, when a woman named Evelyn Sutter walked into the pawnshop carrying a tea set. Not a nice one—china, yes, but the cheap kind, the kind you win at a county fair. She wanted forty dollars for it. I gave her ten, just to see her leave. But something about the glaze caught the light wrong, and the pattern looked familiar in a way I couldn't place. That night I found the matching cup in my own cupboard—the one from my grandmother's house…
The Locket on Pritchard Road
Summer 2007. A woman walks into the pawnshop with a locket she found buried in her grandmother's garden on Pritchard Road, just outside of Mercy, West Virginia. She wants to know what it's worth. I clean the tarnish off the clasp and read the inscription inside: two names, a date, and the word 'forever.' The problem is the date hasn't happened yet. It's three weeks from today. She tells me her grandmother died five years ago and never mentioned a locket. I ask if she wants to leave it. She says…
The Stained-Glass Window on Pender's Curve
September 1987, Pender's Curve, Kentucky. A woman brings in a stained-glass window salvaged from a burned-down church. The glass shows a saint whose face shifts when you're not looking. Luna traces the story back to the fire, the deacon who disappeared, and the thing the congregation saw in the smoke that night. The window doesn't let you forget. It shows you what you've already seen but refused to believe. Quiet, slow-burn horror about faith, memory, and the light that stains whatever it…
The Camera on Pender's Curve
A Polaroid camera pawned by a quiet woman in the small town of Harlow, Virginia, in the fall of 2019. Luna recounts what happened after a customer bought it and found the undeveloped film still inside. The photos show places the woman never visited—and faces she never should have known. A story about what gets left behind, and what refuses to stay in the frame. #PolaroidCamera #PendersCurve #HarlowVirginia #UndevelopedFilm #GhostPhotography #SmallTownHorror #HorrorStory #FexingoHorror…
The Birdcage on Mulberry Lane
Luna remembers a cold December night in 1997 when a woman brought a gilded birdcage into the pawnshop. The cage was empty, but it hummed with a sound like feathers brushing glass. The woman said she found it in her late grandmother's attic on Mulberry Lane. She wanted it gone. Luna took it in, and that night the humming became a whisper—a name, repeated. The next morning the cage was warm to the touch, and a single black feather lay on the floor inside. This is the story of what came looking…
The Harmonica on Driscoll Mountain Road
September 1998. Luna's uncle Clem, a quiet man who fixed small engines in his garage, brought in a Hohner Marine Band harmonica he found in the glovebox of a rusted-out Chevy LUV that had been parked on Driscoll Mountain Road for thirty years. The truck belonged to a field hand named Enoch Slade who disappeared in 1967. The harmonica still smelled like tobacco and damp earth. Clem said he heard it playing in his sleep. The story of what happened when Luna took it home, why she kept it in a…
The Pocket Watch on Gallows Hill Road
In the autumn of 1997, a woman named Elise brought a dented pocket watch into Luna's pawnshop. The watch had belonged to her brother, who vanished from their family farm on Gallows Hill Road fifteen years earlier—the same night their grandfather died. Elise insisted the watch had stopped at the exact minute of both deaths, and that it had started again the previous week, ticking backward. Luna took the watch in trade and kept it in the display case, where it ran counterclockwise for seven days…
The Mannequin on Camden Street
In the winter of 1998, a department store mannequin appeared in the window of an abandoned dress shop on Camden Street in Auburn, New York. No one knew who put it there or why, but every night its pose changed. Luna tells the story of the mannequin that learned to move, and the woman who watched it for three weeks until she couldn't look away anymore. A quiet, slow-burn episode about the horror of something familiar becoming unfamiliar, and the unbearable weight of being seen when you thought…
The VHS Tape on Grissom Lane
June 1998, just outside Denton, Missouri. A woman brings in a box of old VHS tapes found in her late uncle's basement. Most are blank or recorded over with soap operas. But one tape, unlabeled, shows something that should not exist—a child's birthday party in a living room that the uncle never owned, with children who never lived. And when Luna watches it a second time, the details have changed. A story about the things that slip into recordings, about the difference between memory and…
The Typewriter on Banyon Street
A cold November night in 1982. Luna's cousin Claire inherits her mother's house on Banyon Street in Elmsford, a quiet town where nothing ever happens. But in the attic, beneath a dusty tarp, Claire finds an old Remington typewriter with a single sheet of paper still rolled in it. The machine works on its own, typing messages that start as warnings and end as confessions. Claire begins to write back, believing she's communicating with the ghost of her grandmother. But the typewriter doesn't stop…
The Vault on Mayflower Lane
A man brings a cast-iron safe into the pawnshop, claiming it fell off a truck. Inside: a single folded note, a child's copper bracelet, and a scent like wet earth and copper. Luna learns the safe came from a house that burned down in Greenbrier, Arkansas — a house where a girl went missing the same night. The man who brought it in has a burn scar on his wrist he won't explain. Luna traces the serial number to a bank vault that was supposed to have been emptied in '94. But the bank had no record…
The Tuning Fork on Fisherman's Road
A small-town music teacher, Clara Voss, disappears from her home on Fisherman's Road in Ashford, Kentucky, on a humid July night in 1987. Her front door is unlocked, her dinner is half-eaten, and on the kitchen table lies a single object: a rusted tuning fork, corroded green, humming a pitch that does not exist in any scale. Deputy Sheriff Ellis Rawlings—my uncle—was the first on scene. He told me he held that fork to his ear and heard, faintly, a sound like a woman singing underwater. This is…
The Cuckoo Clock on Mercy Street
Deep summer in the Ozarks, 1997. A woman brings a cuckoo clock into the pawnshop — a Black Forest piece her mother left her. She says it keeps wrong time. Not fast, not slow — wrong. Midnight chimes at noon. Three o'clock plays the call of a bird that doesn't exist. But it's not the mechanism she's afraid of. It's what the clock remembers. A story of inheritance, abandoned houses on Mercy Street, and a father who walked into the woods counting backwards. Luna examines the clock, finds a hidden…
The Gumball Machine on Parish Road
In the summer of 2003, a gumball machine appears overnight at a dusty gas station outside Tupelo, Mississippi. The owner, an old man named Cecil, notices the machine takes no coins but still dispenses gumballs—always red, always warm. Luna hears about it from a truck driver who stops by the pawnshop, and she drives out to see it herself. The machine sits in a corner of the garage, plugged into nothing, its glass globe glowing faintly even after sunset. Cecil tells her it showed up the day after…
The Coffin on Proctor's Ferry Road
A man brings an ornate child's coffin into Luna's pawnshop, asking only for its story. He found it floating in the shallows of the Loblolly River, near Proctor's Ferry Road, one winter morning. Inside, instead of bones, there is a photograph of a woman holding a mirror, and a worn leather journal filled with entries in a hand that grows increasingly frantic. The final page is blank except for a single line: 'She is not in the mirror anymore.' Luna traces the coffin back to a house that burned…
The Music Box on Lost Hollow Road
A man brings a dented music box to Luna's pawnshop on a dead-quiet Tuesday in late October. He found it in his mother's attic after her funeral. It plays a lullaby he's never heard—and he can't stop hearing it, even when the lid is closed. Luna winds it once and feels the tune settle into her chest like a second heartbeat. The man says his mother used to wake up humming it, crying, and never told him why. Luna takes the music box on consignment and tries to forget it. But that night, at 2:47…
The Cradle on Broken Wheel Road
June 1987, just outside Gilead, Texas. A woman brings in a hand-carved cradle — oak, with a single brass hinge and a rattle tied to the headboard. She says it belonged to her grandmother, that it's been in the family for three generations. She doesn't say why she's pawning it. But as I run my thumb over the wood, I feel a warmth that has nothing to do with the afternoon sun. The grain is smooth in places, rough in others — like it's been gripped. And the rattle… it shakes itself, sometimes…
The Wishing Well on Cold Spring Road
Deep in the woods of Hawkins County, Tennessee, there's a well that nobody talks about. Not the old stone one behind the Baptist church — the other one, half a mile east, where the kudzu grows so thick it looks like the earth is swallowing itself. I heard about it from a woman named Marjorie, who came into the pawnshop one November evening in 1998. She wanted to sell a child's shoe, and when I asked why, she told me about the summer she was twelve, and what she threw into that well, and what…
The Organ on Pikesville Road
October 1998. Luna is called to a farmhouse outside Pikesville, Pennsylvania, to appraise a pipe organ for an estate sale. The house belongs to the estate of Arthur Voss, a reclusive music teacher who died alone. The organ dominates the parlor, its pipes stretching to the ceiling. As Luna examines it, she finds a locked drawer beneath the keyboard. Inside: a score written in Voss's hand, titled 'The Echo Organ.' The instructions are peculiar—it requires two players, one at the keys and one…
The Gravedigger's Spade on Crossbone Road
In the autumn of 2002, a man named Elias Cobb brought a gravedigger's spade into Luna's pawnshop on a Tuesday evening, just before closing. The spade was old, the handle polished dark with use, the blade nicked and stained. Elias said he'd found it in the shed of a house he'd inherited on Crossbone Road, a dirt lane that dead-ends at the old county cemetery. He wanted to sell it because it made the back of his neck prickly. Luna bought it for twenty dollars, and that night she learned why some…
The Mirror on Lost Creek Road
A pawnshop owner recalls the night a man brought in an antique mirror from a burned-down farmhouse on Lost Creek Road. The mirror didn't reflect what was in front of it—it reflected what had been. Luna's voice carries the weight of that story as she describes the frost on the glass in July, the woman in the floral dress who stood behind everyone who looked into it, and the way the man's eyes looked after he saw her. Set in the summer of 2007, in the back of a truck under a bruised sky. No jump…
The Key on Whiskey Creek Road
On a humid September night in 1982, Luna meets a man who brings an old iron key to her pawnshop window. He claims it unlocks a door in the basement of the old Piggly Wiggly on Whiskey Creek Road—a door he was hired to brick up twenty years ago. He never finished the job. Now the store is being demolished, and he needs someone to go with him. Luna follows him into the dark, past stacked shopping carts and a floor sticky with decades of spilled soda, to a door that should not exist. What she…
The Cradle at Big Hollow Road
A woman brings an antique cradle into the pawnshop on a November afternoon, asking for nothing but to leave it behind. She says it came from her grandmother's farmhouse near Big Hollow Road, a place that never had children. Luna takes the cradle, and that night she learns why the wood still smells of milk and rust. A story about empty rooms, inherited silences, and things that remember being wanted. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #ThePawnshop #BigHollowRoad #cradle #November #antique #farmhouse…
The Lamp at Falcon's Rest
A stranger brings a brass oil lamp into the pawnshop on a November evening. He claims it came from a motel room at Falcon's Rest, a place that burned down in 1987. He says the lamp still works, but the light it casts is wrong — it shows you things that aren't there, things that happened in that room. Luna remembers the old stories about Falcon's Rest, about the woman who checked in and never checked out, about the maintenance man who swore he heard her humming through the walls long after the…
The Bell Jar on Old Wire Road
A woman brings a bell jar into the pawnshop, claiming it contains the last breath of her twin sister. Luna listens as she tells the story of how she captured it moments before her sister died. Now the jar hums at night, and sometimes the glass fogs from the inside. Luna doesn't know if it's grief or something worse. The woman leaves it behind. By midnight, Luna swears she can hear a faint, rhythmic tapping from inside. #ThePawnshop #BellJar #OldWireRoad #TwinSisters #LastBreath #GriefHorror…
The Hunting Knife on Dead Man's Curve
A hunting knife with a bone handle shows up at Luna's pawnshop counter, brought in by a man who says he found it on a deer trail off Dead Man's Curve, a tight horseshoe bend on the old county road outside of Carbondale. The knife is old but sharp, and the man is twitchy, smelling of rain and campfire. He tells Luna about the shape he keeps seeing in his rearview mirror since he picked it up—a figure standing at the curve, holding its side, watching. Luna examines the knife's blade under the…
The Accordion on Redemption Lane
It's October 1987, and a man named Ellis brings a rusted accordion into Luna's pawnshop on a Tuesday night. He says he found it in a condemned church outside of Baker, Nevada — a small town just west of the Utah line. The instrument plays on its own, but only when no one is watching. Ellis claims it followed him home. Luna listens as he describes the music that seeps through the walls at 3 AM — not a melody, but a pattern, like something trying to remember how to pray. The accordion is locked…
The Child's Boot on Blue Diamond Road
A cold November night in 1987 on Blue Diamond Road outside Elko, Nevada. A woman named Cora pulls over when a child in a too-thin coat flags her down. The girl says her name is Lily, that her parents are dead in the house up the hill. But as Cora drives them toward town, she notices things: the girl leaves no condensation on the window, the backseat smells of wet earth, and the address she gives is a cemetery plot. Luna tells the story of a kindness that should have been a warning, and a road…
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