Episodes
The Book at the Owl Creek Free Library
Luna recounts a winter evening at the Owl Creek Free Library, where a single book on the shelf contained a crayon drawing of a child and a faceless figure. The librarian tells her about a girl named Emily who claimed the figure in the book was real—and that he whispered to her at night. Luna borrows the book and discovers the whispering follows. A quiet, consuming story about belief, loneliness, and the stories that refuse to stay on the page. #Imaginary #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast…
The Crayon Drawing at the Silver Creek Post Office
In the winter of 1999, Luna finds a crayon drawing pinned to a corkboard in the small post office of Silver Creek, Oregon. A child's hand holds a tall, smiling figure—no face, just a circle with a scribbled sun above. She learns the drawing was left by a quiet girl named Leah, who waits for her mother to pick up mail that never comes. Over several weeks, the drawing changes: the figure's hand uncurls, the smile turns to a jagged line, and the girl's own face begins to blur. By the end, only the…
The Photograph at the Painted Pony Diner
Late autumn, just past midnight, Luna finds a photograph wedged under a torn vinyl booth at the Painted Pony Diner on Highway 9. It shows a boy of maybe seven, holding hands with a tall faceless figure in a suit. No name on the back. The waitress doesn't recognize him. The cook says the booth's been empty for hours. She takes it home. The boy's expression shifts, the figure's hand tightens, and the polaroid begins to fade from the edges inward. A quiet, intimate horror about a fragment of…
The Dollhouse at the Caldwell Funeral Home
Luna recalls a summer night in 1997 when she found a dollhouse in the basement of the Caldwell Funeral Home in Millbrook, South Carolina. The dollhouse was a perfect replica of the funeral home itself, down to the tiny caskets and the miniature bodies inside. But the figures moved—not when she looked, but between blinks. By the time she fled, the dollhouse had become a photograph she couldn't stop seeing, and a child's voice she couldn't unhear. #CaldwellFuneralHome #Millbrook #SouthCarolina…
The Rag Doll at the Old Mill Bridge
October 1999. A teenage girl waits for the school bus at the edge of a covered bridge outside Mercer, Ohio. She notices a rag doll propped on the railing, left there like someone forgot it. But when she returns the next day, the doll is gone—and a new object has appeared. Over the course of a week, the bridge becomes a stage for something that watches, waits, and begins to mimic her. A quiet, unsettling story about attention, loneliness, and the thing that starts to answer back when you look…
The Rag Doll at the Shady Pines Trailer Park Revisited
Luna returns to Shady Pines Trailer Park on a humid August night, three years after she first found a rag doll on the stoop of a rusted single-wide. The doll had been left on every trailer in the park that summer, always before a storm, always with a name stitched into its dress. Tonight, the doll has found her again — pinned to the wiper of her parked car, the name 'Luna' worked into the hem in uneven crimson thread. She remembers not telling anyone where she was going. She remembers the heat…
The Rag Doll at the Shady Pines Trailer Park
February, 2023. A frozen night at the Silver Creek mobile home park outside of Harlow, Ohio. Luna stops to help a neighbor find her daughter's lost rag doll — a yellow yarn-haired thing with button eyes she's seen before. But the doll keeps turning up in places it shouldn't be, and the girl keeps saying the same five words: 'She wants to come home.' What Luna finds in the crawlspace beneath the park's laundry room changes how she reads that sentence. A quiet, lingering story about what we…
The Rag Doll at the Washateria on Pecan Street
It's late October in the small town of Rosetree, Georgia. After a long drive, Luna stops at a 24-hour washateria on Pecan Street to wash clothes. A young mother arrives with her toddler, carrying a worn rag doll that the child refuses to let go. The doll's eyes follow Luna. She overhears the mother muttering about the doll's habit of moving at night. When the woman leaves in a hurry, forgetting the doll, Luna is left alone with it. The rag doll sits on the folding table, and the door locks…
The Rag Doll at the Lakeview Cemetery Gate
It's November 1997 in Fenton, Ohio. Luna's cousin Clara is seven years old when her grandmother dies. At the funeral, Clara refuses to let go of a rag doll her grandmother made for her. That night, Luna drives Clara home past the Lakeview Cemetery, and Clara insists the doll is waving goodbye. Luna doesn't think much of it until she finds the doll sitting upright in the backseat, its stitched mouth slightly torn—like it had been trying to speak. A quiet, intimate ghost story about grief…
The Carousel at the Fairgrounds on Coldwater Road
It's the summer of 1997, and the fair comes to town. Luna remembers the carousel—the one her father warned her never to ride. The horses were too beautiful, their eyes too wet. Thirty years later, she finds a ticket stub in a box of her father's things, and drives back to Coldwater Road. The fairgrounds are empty, but the carousel is still there, spinning in the dark, and someone is riding it. #Carousel #Fairgrounds #ColdwaterRoad #Luna #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #SmallTownHorror #Nostalgia…
The Rag Doll at the Laundromat on Elm Street
A woman doing laundry at the all-night Washateria on Elm Street in Millbrook finds a small rag doll left in a dryer. The doll has no face, only a crude smile stitched in red thread. She takes it home, and that night she hears a child's voice counting from the laundry basket. The counting goes on past one hundred, and on the last number, something scratches at her bedroom door. This is a slow-burn horror story about loneliness, boundaries between worlds, and the things we bring home without…
The Rag Doll at the Washateria on Pecan Street
Luna recalls a night in September 2019 at the 24-hour Washateria on Pecan Street in Red Bluff, Texas. A woman named Maybelle brings in a rag doll that smells of river water and rotten flowers. The doll has no face—just a blank oval of cloth. Maybelle says she found it at the edge of the Dry Frio River, where the water goes underground and doesn't come back up. As she washes it, the doll begins to hum. Not a tune. A single note, low and constant. The machines stop. The lights flicker. And Luna…
The Music Box at the Evergreen Trailer Park
It was late October, just before Halloween, when I found myself at the Evergreen Trailer Park on the outskirts of Mercer, Ohio. A woman named Cora had called me about her daughter's music box—a small wooden thing with a ballerina that had stopped dancing. But when I opened it, the music didn't stop. It kept playing a lullaby I'd never heard, and the ballerina's face had changed. Cora said her daughter had been sleepwalking, talking to someone named 'the lady with the silver hair.' This is a…
The Crayon Drawing at the Cottonwood Creek Trailer Park
Luna recalls a hot summer night in 2019 at the Cottonwood Creek Trailer Park on the outskirts of Elko, Nevada. A five-year-old girl named Ellie shows her a crayon drawing of a woman in a yellow dress who visits her closet every night. The woman sings a lullaby Luna recognizes from an old missing persons case. What starts as a child's imaginary friend becomes a quiet, insistent presence that follows Luna home. No screams, no violence — just a song that shouldn't exist, and a closet door that…
The Crayon Drawing at the Fox Run Trailer Park
Luna returns to a memory she can't shake—a humid August night in 2003 at the Fox Run Trailer Park outside of Meridian, Mississippi. A little girl shows her a crayon drawing of a woman with no face and a house that doesn't exist. Later, Luna finds that house at the edge of the woods, with a light on in the bedroom window. The girl's mother says she never drew anything. But the drawing is still there, folded in Luna's pocket, and the face is still missing. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast…
The Crayon Drawing at the Green Valley Trailer Park
A forgotten trailer park on the edge of Green Valley, Ohio, one humid August night in 2017. Luna recounts a drawing slipped under her windshield wiper—a stick-figure child holding hands with a tall, faceless figure. The strokes were uneven, the paper damp with dew. No one claimed it. But the girl who drew it? She was last seen two years earlier, walking into the woods behind Lot 14. This episode peels back the quiet dread of rural disappearances and the objects that outlast the missing. No neat…
The Crayon Drawing at the Shady Pines Trailer Park
In the autumn of 2019, Luna's grandmother moved into Shady Pines Trailer Park just outside of Millbrook, Ohio. Luna visited on a cold October afternoon and met a quiet girl named Ellie who showed her a crayon drawing of a house with too many windows. The drawing had a door that was open, and Ellie insisted it wasn't her house she'd drawn—it was the one behind it, the one nobody talked about. Luna walked to the back of the park that evening, past the rusted swing set and the overgrown lot, and…
The Crayon Drawing at the Red Bridge Gas Station
In the summer of 2003, Luna stopped at a gas station outside Red Bridge, Ohio, where she found a crayon drawing taped to the bathroom mirror — a child's drawing of a woman with no eyes, holding a pair of scissors. The attendant said a little girl had left it there the night before, but no one in town remembered seeing a girl. That night, Luna drove back past the station and saw the overhead light flickering in the closed bathroom. She went inside and found the sink drain clotted with dark hair…
The Swing Set at the Edge of the Copeland Woods
Luna recalls a summer evening in 2007 when her cousin Emily, then seven, insisted she had a friend who lived in the woods behind their grandmother's house. The friend had no face, only a voice that called from the old swing set at dusk. Luna went to see for herself and found the swing moving slowly, back and forth, though no one was on it. The next day, Emily was gone. Luna found her sitting at the base of the swing set, staring at something only she could see. The friend had a name, and Emily…
The Playhouse at the Edge of the Hawkins Meadow
When Luna was twelve, she spent a summer in the small town of Foxboro, Connecticut. The house her mother rented had a rotting plywood playhouse in the back garden—a place left by the previous family. Luna cleaned it out, finding a stack of crayon drawings and a single name: Alice. Each image showed a child and a tall, faceless figure. At night, Luna began to hear a soft voice calling from the playhouse. She went to look, and what she found there changed how she understood the difference between…
The Crayon Drawing at the Diamond Lake Motel
A solitary traveler checks into the Diamond Lake Motel in early winter, hoping for a quiet night. Instead, she finds a crayon drawing left behind in the room—a child's depiction of a faceless family standing in a field. The motel manager warns her not to ask about the drawing, but the longer she looks at it, the more the figures seem to shift. As the snow falls harder outside, the drawing begins to change, and she realizes the family is not as absent as they seem. A story about the things…
The Crayon Drawing at the Pines Motel on Route 17
Luna tells the story of a late-night stop at the Pines Motel on Route 17, a tired roadside relic outside a town called Marrow, New Hampshire. Behind the faded wallpaper of Room 8, a child has drawn the same thing again and again: a stick-figure family, with one figure erased so hard the paper is worn through. The motel manager, a woman named Etta, claims she never lets children stay there. But the drawings keep appearing, and the eraser marks grow darker each week. Luna traces the impossible…
The Crayon Drawing at the Rosedale Village Motel
Luna checks into the Rosedale Village Motel on a rainy November night in 2019, hoping for nothing more than a cheap room on a long drive. The motel is empty, the manager is uneasy, and the room has a child's crayon drawing taped to the wall — a stick figure of a girl holding hands with a much taller faceless figure in yellow. That night, she hears a child's voice from the room next door, the one that's supposed to be vacant. The drawing changes overnight: the figure's hand now reaches past the…
The Crayon Drawing at the Oakwood Community Center
Luna recalls a summer evening in 2014 when she volunteered at the Oakwood Community Center in Pine Bluff, Arkansas. A quiet boy named Leo handed her a crayon drawing of himself holding hands with a tall figure with no face. She kept the drawing, and later noticed that the faceless figure's hand had changed position overnight. Then she saw the drawing move on its own—the figure's hand tightening its grip on the boy's hand. She went back to the center and found that Leo had drawn a new picture…
The Dollhouse on the Old Holloway Road
Luna recalls a humid July night in 2019 when a late-night drive along Old Holloway Road led her to a stranded woman with a dollhouse in her backseat. The woman, Margaret, spoke of her daughter Lily who disappeared from the back porch of their farmhouse ten years ago—and how the dollhouse, found in the attic afterward, would sometimes rearrange itself at night. Luna followed Margaret home, where she saw a child's handprint appear on a dusty window from inside, though the house had been empty for…
The Puzzle on Ash Tree Lane
One evening in early spring of 2019, a woman named Nora pulled into a gas station outside the town of Orbison, Virginia. She was just passing through—on her way to Roanoke for a job interview. Somewhere between the pump and the cash register, she picked up a small cardboard box. Inside was a jigsaw puzzle showing a child's bedroom just like one she remembered from thirty years earlier. The pieces were cut wrong—edges that refused to snap into place, faces that changed when the light hit them…
The Record Player in the Attic of the Birchwood House
In the summer of 1998, Luna's friend Clara inherited her grandmother's old house on Birchwood Lane. The place was full of dusty antiques, but one thing stood out: a vintage record player in the attic, still plugged in, with a single vinyl on the turntable. No one had been up there in years. Clara insisted the house was silent at night, but Luna heard music drifting down the stairs at 2:47 AM. A lullaby. The same one her grandmother used to hum. But the grandmother had been dead for six months.…
The Photograph at the Maplewood Diner
It was the autumn of 2019, just before the leaves turned. I was driving through central Vermont, trying to outrun something I didn't want to name, and I stopped at the Maplewood Diner off Route 14. The diner was empty except for a waitress named Cora and a photograph pinned to the corkboard by the register. A polaroid of a man sitting in booth four, smiling. Cora said he came in every Tuesday at the same time, ordered the same thing, paid with a crumpled twenty. She said she'd never seen him…
The Dollhouse at the Old Mill on Briar Creek
In the autumn of 2009, Luna stopped at a crumbling mill on Briar Creek outside the town of Merridale, Vermont. A child's dollhouse sat in the middle of the dusty floor, its rooms arranged with unnatural precision. The family who owned the mill had been gone for decades, but the dollhouse was clean and warm, as if someone still lived inside. Luna found a note tucked into the roof, written in careful child's handwriting, asking for help finding a way out. She followed the instructions in the note…
The Handprint on the Window at the Fox Creek Gas Station
Late November 2022, a few miles outside the town of Jasper, Ohio. I was driving home from a funeral when my car started making a noise I couldn't place. I pulled into the Fox Creek Gas Station — a single pump, a convenience store that smelled of old coffee and motor oil. The man behind the counter, Henry, had been working there for thirty-seven years. He told me about the handprint. The one that appears on the inside of the station's back window every night around 2:47 AM. Not a smudge. Not…
The Snow Globe at the Gull's Rest Motel
Luna finds a child's snow globe in a closed-down motel room, its tiny scene shifting and growing night by night. A story about a boy who believed his imaginary friend could bring spring, and what happened when the snow never stopped falling — even inside the glass. Set at the Gull's Rest Motel on the outskirts of Meridian, Connecticut, in late November 2019. Quiet, cold, and unfinished. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #Imaginary #SnowGlobe #GullsRestMotel #MeridianConnecticut #ImaginaryFriend…
The Crayon Drawing at the Little Diner on Route 9
A cold winter night at a diner on Route 9, where a waitress named Clara leaves a crayon drawing under a napkin dispenser. Luna traces the artwork back to a child named Leo, who disappeared from a neighboring town six years ago. The drawing shows a stick figure with no face standing beside a house with a red door. But the details in the crayon — the way the grass is colored black, the window drawn as a dark square — suggest something else. Clara doesn't remember leaving the drawing. The security…
The Doll at the Lakehouse on Stillwater Lane
In the summer of 1998, a seven-year-old girl named Alice Voss went missing from the shore of Lake Vanish, a small, stagnant body of water in northern Minnesota. Her mother, Celia, spent the next two decades searching the woods and the water, refusing to believe her daughter drowned. In 2019, a real estate developer drained the lake to build a luxury subdivision, and at the bottom, in the silt and the weeds, they found something that was not a child's body. It was a porcelain doll, wearing a…
The Oven at the Old Canning Factory on Elm Street
October 1987. Luna's cousin Margie takes a summer job cleaning out the abandoned canning factory on Elm Street in Bellflower, Indiana. The factory has been closed for twenty years, but the smell of peaches never left. Margie finds a row of ovens still warm, a ledger with names and dates, and a locked door at the end of the basement hallway that hums. She stops calling after the third week. Luna drives out to find her. #BellflowerIndiana #ElmStreet #CanningFactory #TheOven #Margie #Ledger…
The Toy Chest at the Bluebell Inn
In the attic of the Bluebell Inn, Luna finds an antique toy chest that once belonged to a girl named Abigail. Inside are crayon drawings of a faceless family, a half-finished dollhouse, and a child's diary that grows more disturbing with each page. As Luna reads, the room grows cold and she hears footsteps—small, deliberate, circling the attic floor. The chest closes on its own. The diary's final entry is today's date, written in a hand that is not her own. A story about things that wait to be…
The Crayon Drawing at the Bluebell Inn
It was the summer of 2003, and I was house-sitting the Bluebell Inn, a faded Victorian B&B on the edge of Lost Creek, Vermont. The inn had been closed for years, but the owner—a woman named Mrs. Ellison—asked me to stay there, just to keep an eye on things. Every night, I found a fresh crayon drawing on the floor of the child's bedroom, left by no one I could see. A stick figure of a child holding hands with a taller, faceless figure. The child's face was always the same—a wide, desperate…
The Dollhouse at the Bluebell Inn
Luna returns to the Bluebell Inn in Oakwood, Vermont, during the fall of 2019. A guest named Margaret has been leaving notes about a dollhouse in room 208 — a dollhouse she claims is not a toy but a record of something she cannot remember. Luna visits the room after Margaret checks out and finds the dollhouse arranged exactly as Margaret described: a miniature version of the inn, with tiny figures in each room. But one room — room 208 — is empty, save for a single figure lying on the bed. Luna…
The Dollhouse at the Moonflower Trailer Park
Luna returns to the Moonflower Trailer Park on a humid August evening in 2009. A single-wide at the end of a cul-de-sac, a child's dollhouse in the yard with lights that flicker on at dusk. The woman inside, Mrs. Marlene, insists her daughter still plays with it — even though her daughter disappeared three years ago. Luna stays to watch. The dollhouse windows glow. A small hand waves from the upstairs bedroom. And then the front door of the trailer swings open, just an inch, as if someone is…
The Cradle in the Attic at the Bluebell Inn
In the autumn of 2022, Luna spent a week at the Bluebell Inn, a nineteenth-century bed-and-breakfast in the fading town of Larkspur, Vermont. The innkeeper's daughter, a seven-year-old named Alice, slept with a nightlight shaped like a crescent moon and insisted the attic was crying. Luna volunteered to check the attic and found a child's cradle, hand-carved from oak, rocking on its own. From the closet, a slow creak and then a whisper—not a child's voice, but a woman's, dry and splintered…
The Chalk Outline at the Lost Creek Playground
On a hot July night in 2007, a playground in the small town of Lost Creek, West Virginia, became the center of something that none of the parents would talk about. Luna recounts the story of a young girl named Ellie who found a chalk drawing on the blacktop — a perfect outline of a child, filled in with careful detail. The drawing wasn't there the day before. And it wasn't rain that washed it away. Through Ellie's eyes, Luna traces the slow unease that settled over a neighborhood when a child…
The Sandbox on Willow Creek Road
A woman named Grace moves into a rental house on Willow Creek Road in the autumn of 2021. The backyard has a sandbox the landlady insists she keep covered, but the neighborhood children keep digging it up. Grace meets a girl named Lily who draws the same thing every day—a house, a tree, a stick figure in a window. When Grace finally looks inside the house in the drawing, she sees something that makes her pour concrete into the sandbox at midnight. This is a story about what children see and…
The Chalk Drawing on Magnolia Street
Luna recalls a summer afternoon in 1999, when she was twelve and living on Magnolia Street in the small town of Stillwater, Oklahoma. A new girl named Alice moved into the yellow house at the end of the block. Alice drew with chalk on the sidewalk every day—elaborate pictures of a woman with no face, a tree with no leaves, a house with no doors. The drawings changed overnight, and the faceless woman began to step closer to Alice's front door each day. Luna watched from her bicycle, too scared…
The Painted Fence on Cold Spring Road
In the summer of 1997, on a dead-end road outside Red Bluff, Oregon, there was a white wooden fence that ran for nearly a mile along the edge of a fallow cornfield. Every few feet, someone had painted a child's handprint in red—hundreds of them, all the same size, all facing the road. I first saw them from the window of a Greyhound bus, and I got off at the next stop. That night, I met a woman named Elara who lived in the last house on the road, and she told me that every spring, a little girl…
The Dollhouse at the Abandoned Gas Station on Route 11
Luna stops for gas at a derelict station on a long stretch of Route 11 in eastern Oklahoma. The attendant is a young girl named Ivy who lives in the station with her grandfather. Ivy shows Luna a dollhouse in the back room—a perfect replica of the station itself, with tiny figures that move when no one is watching. Luna leaves at dawn, but when she checks her rearview mirror, the station is gone. Weeks later, she receives a package containing a single dollhouse room: a miniature of her own…
The Crayon Drawing at the Painted Lady Inn
Luna finds a child's crayon drawing hidden behind a loose baseboard in room 7 of the Painted Lady Inn—a faded Victorian on a dead-end road in Dunmore, Pennsylvania. The drawing shows a little girl holding the hand of a tall faceless figure, and a row of smaller figures underneath with X's for eyes. That night, she hears the sound of crayon on paper coming from inside the wall. She peels back the wallpaper and finds more drawings, each one a record of disappearances. The last one is dated this…
The Empty Room at the Bluebird Motel
Route 19, west of Nowhere, Kansas — a motel with a room that shouldn't exist. Room 11 at the Bluebird Motel: no key, no window, no door from the outside. Luna heard about it from a trucker named Walt, who stayed there once and left something behind. A story about a motel owner who never speaks, a ledger with a single repeated name, and a room that only appears when it wants you. This is not a ghost story. It's a story about a place that remembers you better than you remember yourself.…
The Swaying Dress at the Driftwood Motel
April 1982. The Driftwood Motel on Route 60, just outside Flatwoods, West Virginia. Luna's friend Clara inherits the motel from a great-aunt she never met, and goes to clear it out before the bank takes it. The rooms are stale and ordinary — except for Room 9, where a dress hangs in the open closet, swaying slightly, even though there's no breeze, no fan, no vent. The dress belonged to a girl named Margaret who vanished in 1974. Clara's investigation into Margaret's disappearance leads her to…
The Snow Globe at the Gull's Rest Motel
The Gull's Rest Motel sits on a lonely stretch of Oregon coast where the fog never really lifts. It was November of 2003 when I stopped there, dead tired, and found a snow globe in the nightstand drawer. Inside was a tiny motel, identical to the one I was standing in. And inside that motel's window was a light, dim but steady. I shook it, and the snow fell, and the light in the tiny window went out. Then the real window behind me went dark. The power was off. I was left in the dark with that…
The Swing at the White Church on Route 19
Luna remembers the summer she spent in the tiny town of Hemlock, West Virginia, working the graveyard shift at the only gas station for thirty miles. Every night around two, a boy would appear on the swing set behind the abandoned white church across the road. He never crossed the street. He never spoke. But he always waved. Luna tells the story of the night she finally walked over, and what she found on the swing. A quiet, slow-burn episode about isolation, the weight of unspoken grief, and…
The Treehouse at the End of Maple Street
In the summer of 2004, a seven-year-old boy in Elkhorn, West Virginia, built a treehouse in his backyard with his father. By August, he was the only one who could see the woman in the window. His mother blamed grief over the lost dog. His father blamed an overactive imagination. But when the boy started leaving sandwiches on a branch and sleeping in the treehouse every night, they had to look closer. This is the story of what waited inside those four plywood walls, the smell of damp pine and…
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