Episodes
The Call from the Mesa Vista Fire Lookout at 2 AM
It's a slow shift in the dispatch center when the line lights up from a remote fire lookout tower in the Mesa Verde National Forest. The spotter, Marcus, reports strange lights moving through the valley below—lights that don't match any known traffic or fire activity. As Luna tries to reassure him, the lights draw closer, and footsteps begin climbing the wooden stairs of the tower. A woman's voice calls his name. The door rattles. And then the call takes a turn that leaves Luna staring at a…
The Call from the Old Church Bell Tower
A December night, freezing rain, a payphone at St. Margaret's Church in Mercy Falls. The caller is a man named Arthur who says he's trapped in the bell tower. But the church has been abandoned for decades, and the tower has been bricked up since 1987. Luna listens as the bells begin to toll on their own, thirteen times, and the line goes dead. A story about memory, guilt, and the calls that keep coming long after the line should have been cut. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #911HoldMusic…
The Call from the Abandoned Grain Elevator at 2 AM
A quiet night in the dispatch center takes a turn when a woman calls from an abandoned grain elevator on the edge of Finch, Kansas. She's lost, but sees lights in a tower that's been dark for fifteen years. Luna keeps her on the line as she steps inside, past peeling signs and rusted machinery. The grinding of old gears. A silhouette at the top of the stairs. And a voice that sounds familiar—a voice that shouldn't be there. This episode explores echoes across time, the pull of places that…
The Call from the Morrow County Library Basement
In this episode, I take you back to a call I'll never forget. It came from a payphone in the basement of the Morrow County Library, closed for months. A woman named Alice, lost and scared. A figure standing in the dark. And a book left open to a single warning. This is a story about what happens when you answer a call that shouldn't be possible. Husked, intimate, and deeply unsettling—it'll make you think twice about walking past an empty building. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #911HoldMusic…
The Call from the Desert Gas Station at 2 AM
It's a slow night in the dispatch center when a call comes in from a woman stranded at a gas station on Route 56 outside Lordsburg, New Mexico. She says her car won't start and there's something moving in the shadows beyond the pumps. Luna tries to calm her, but the woman's account grows more fragmented as she realizes she's not alone. Then the line goes dead. When Luna checks the address, the station was demolished years ago. The number doesn't exist. But the call was recorded — and Luna can't…
The Cabin at Shady Pines
On a freezing winter night in Pine Ridge, Montana, dispatcher Luna receives a call from a man named Ethan. He's alone in a remote cabin, the Shady Pines, when he hears his dead wife's voice whispering from the wood stove. As Luna listens, the voice grows closer, the stove door rattles, and Ethan sees a face in the soot. With police thirty minutes away, the call takes a turn that Luna will never forget. This episode explores grief, isolation, and the things that wait in the darkness. A haunting…
The Call from the Motel Room 8 Phone at 3 AM
It's July in Kingman, Arizona—a dry heat that cracks your lips and makes the asphalt shimmer. I'm on the night shift at the dispatch center when a call comes in from the Budget Lodge on Route 66. Room 8. A woman's voice, calm at first. She says there's someone in the bathroom, but the door is locked from inside. I check the log—Room 8 has been vacant for six months. The owner confirms: no one has checked in. But the line stays open. I can hear the faucet running. And a sound like wet fingers…
The Call from the Motel Fire Alarm at 4 AM
A September night in Bylas, Arizona. Luna takes a call from a man who says his motel room's fire alarm is going off. But there's no smoke, no heat, no flame. When she dispatches the fire department and they arrive, they find the room empty and the alarm silent. The man calls back from a gas station down the road, saying something followed him. Luna listens as his voice goes thin and the coin slot rattles. A quiet, lingering story about what waits to be noticed. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast…
The Call from the Motel Payphone at 1 AM
A lonely payphone at a rundown motel in Laramie, Wyoming rings at 1 AM on a Saturday in late October. The motel's night clerk, a woman named Diane, picks it up — the motel is nearly empty, the nearest house is half a mile away. The caller is a child, maybe six or seven years old, asking if her daddy is there. Diane says no, and the phone goes dead. It rings again two minutes later. Same child. Same question. Same dead air. The third time, when Diane says no, the child starts whispering…
The Call from the Motel Vending Machine at 2 AM
A late-night dispatcher in the small town of Dry Fork, Nevada, receives a call from a motel vending machine. The voice on the other end claims to be a man trapped inside the machine after the glass door sealed shut behind him. But as the dispatcher pieces together the details, she realizes the vending machine has no interior space large enough for a person. The call continues, and the man's story grows stranger, until the dispatcher is forced to confront the possibility that either she is…
The Call from the Motel Fountain at Dusk
A motel fountain in the Texas Panhandle has been whispering names for sixty years. Luna takes a call from a man who hears his own, and learns that the thing under the water doesn't just call — it keeps a ledger. Set at a roadside motel off Route 66, one hot September evening in 2023, this is a story about the names we answer to, and the ones we shouldn't. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #911HoldMusic #MotelFountain #Route66 #TexasPanhandle #WhisperingWater #LedgerOfNames #Dusk #2023 #LunaDispatch…
The Call from the Motel Furnace Room Duct
Luna takes a call from a woman trapped in a furnace room at the Paradise Motel in Bernal, New Mexico, on a humid August night. The caller says she entered the maintenance closet after hearing a kitten crying inside the ductwork. Now the metal is groaning, the vents are pulsing, and something is breathing back at her through the blower intake. Luna listens as the woman describes a sound like cracking bone and wet fabric, then a voice that isn't hers whispering into the air handler. The episode…
The Call from the Motel Dryer at 3 AM
It's the dead of summer in Larkspur, Oklahoma, and the motel's laundry room is the only cool place for miles. A woman named Eileen calls 911 from inside a commercial dryer that won't stop spinning. She says she crawled in to escape the heat, but the door locked behind her. Luna tries to keep her calm while fire dispatch argues about jurisdiction. The air runs thin. The drum keeps turning. And Eileen keeps repeating a name that doesn't show up on any motel registry. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast…
The Call from the Motel Hot Tub Circuit Breaker
A late-night 911 call from the maintenance room of a roadside motel in Nowhere, Wyoming. The caller is a newly hired night clerk who has discovered something moving inside the hot tub's circuit breaker panel. The dispatcher—Luna—listens as the clerk describes a rhythmic clicking, the smell of ozone, and the feeling that something is counting her breaths. No one else has called about the hot tub in years. The episode is a slow-burn encounter with a thing that lives in electrical systems, feeding…
The Call from the Motel Ice Machine at Closing Time
It's 4 AM in late October at a Super 8 outside Abilene, Kansas. Luna answers a call from a woman hiding in the motel ice machine alcove. The caller says someone is moving through the parking lot, opening car doors, but it's not a guest—it's something that moves wrong, like a man walking on his hands. Luna keeps her on the line as the sounds get closer, until the line goes dead. A self-contained encounter set in a single night, with no neat closure. #HorrorPodcast #FexingoHorror #911HoldMusic…
The Call from the Motel Room 3 Closet
A quiet night at the dispatch center. A single call from a Motel 6 off I-80 in Rawlins, Wyoming. The woman on the line says she's locked herself in the closet of Room 3 because something has been tapping on the door for the past two hours. No, she doesn't see anyone outside. No, she didn't see who checked in next door. But the tapping has moved from the door to the walls. Low, patient, deliberate. Luna stays on the line through static bursts and long silences. The woman's voice goes from tense…
The Call from the Derelict Motel's Lost and Found
Luna takes a call from a woman named Claire who has stumbled into the lost-and-found closet of a long-abandoned motel off Route 50 in Nevada. The closet shouldn't exist—it's full of items that were never claimed, each one whispering of a guest who never checked out. Luna listens as Claire describes the smell of old carpet, the weight of a dusty teddy bear, and the sound of something shifting in the dark corners. As Claire's flashlight dies, Luna realizes the call is coming from a phone line…
The Call from the Abandoned Pizza Hut Basement
October 2009. A cold snap in Denton, Utah, and a closed Pizza Hut on Route 9 with a light on in the basement. Luna takes a call from a woman named Edie, a former shift manager who went back for her coat. But the basement isn't empty. There's a freezer that runs. A chair that's been recently sat in. And a phone that should not ring. This is a story about the things left behind after a restaurant closes—the uniforms in the lockers, the grease trap, the radio still playing. And the man in the…
The Call from the Motel Pool at Midnight
It's the dead of summer in a town called Painted Post, New York, at a motel that's been sinking into the earth since the seventies. Luna takes a call from a teenage girl who's been left alone by her parents at the motel pool. The girl says there's something in the deep end—a shape that drifts when the filter cycles, something that's been there longer than the water. As Luna talks her through it, the story turns around an old rumor about a boy who drowned in that same pool twenty years ago, and…
The Call from the Closed Highway Diner's Walk-In Freezer
It's 3 AM in early March, and the last call of Luna's shift comes from a diner on County Road 9, just outside a town called Birch Hollow. The line is staticky, the voice is a woman who says she's locked in the walk-in freezer. The temperature is dropping, and the emergency release handle is gone. Luna keeps her on the line as the frost builds on the receiver, but the woman's story doesn't match what Luna can see on the dispatch screen. The diner has been closed for three years. The freezer…
The Call from the Motel Key Card Reader at 4 AM
It's August in Elko, Nevada, and the AC in the motel lobby has been dead for three days. Luna works the night shift at the dispatch center, and at 4:07 AM a call comes in from a traveler named Paul who's locked out of his room because the key card reader won't stop beeping. But the reader isn't broken — it's reading something else. Paul's voice is tight, almost laughing, as he describes the red light pulsing faster the closer he brings his hand to the slot. Luna listens, pulls the hotel's…
The Call from the Motel Ice Machine at Closing Time
It's 3:00 AM at the Desert Sky Motel outside Blythe, California, in July of 2019. The air conditioner hums its drowning hum. A call comes in from the ice machine in the breezeway—no, not from a person near it, from the machine itself. The recorded voice inside the ice dispenser is speaking in a child's whisper, and it knows things it shouldn't. When I drive out to check, the machine is empty, but the breeze carries a smell of rust and old water. The motel manager says the machine has been…
The Call from the Motel Shower Drain at Dawn
It's the tail end of a July graveyard shift in the dispatch center of Elk River, Oregon—a sleepy town off Interstate 5 where the biggest call is usually a loose dog or a stalled car. But at 4:47 AM, a new line blinks: a motel room at the Rustic Lodge, unit 8, registered to a woman named Carrie. She's calling from inside the bathroom, whispering, because there's something in the shower drain—not a clog, not a rodent, but a sound she can't explain. A wet, rhythmic pattern like someone tapping a…
The Call from the Motel Washer at 3 AM
It's November in Maplewood, Ohio, and Luna is working the overnight shift at the county dispatch center. A call comes in from a motel laundry room—a woman's voice, low and shaking. She says she found something in the washing machine. Not a sock, not a shirt. Something that shouldn't be there. Luna listens as the woman describes the sound it made when the cycle started. The thumping. The wet slap. The smell that crept out when she finally opened the lid. The address doesn't match any motel Luna…
The Call from the Motel Ice Machine at Closing Time
It's the last night of the season at the Silver Pines Motel on Route 9 in Vermont, and the ice machine in the breezeway is making a sound it shouldn't. Not the usual clunk and rattle of a tired compressor, but something rhythmic, almost like a voice. Luna worked the front desk that October night twelve years ago, and she still hears it when she closes her eyes. A loop of static that formed words. A guest who checked in and never came back. A maintenance man who said the machine had been empty…
The Call from the Motel Room 6 Television
It was the quietest night of the year at the dispatch center—Thanksgiving, 2:47 a.m., not a single light blinking. Then a call came through from a motel on the outskirts of a town called Marrow, South Dakota. A woman named Eileen said the television in her room was showing something that wasn't a channel. Not static, not a signal test. Just a single image, unmoving, of a motel room that looked exactly like hers—except the bed was unmade, the lamp was crooked, and a shape sat in the armchair…
The Call from the Motel Swimming Pool Filter Room
It's July in Elko, Nevada. The motel pool is empty, drained for repairs, but someone keeps calling from the filter room — a child's voice, asking for her mother. But the motel has been closed for three years. Luna traces the call to a disconnected line, then drives out to see for herself. The filter room door is padlocked from the outside. Inside, something is breathing. A quiet, staring meditation on maternal grief and the places that refuse to let go. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast…
The Call from the Closed Hospital Morgue
Luna recounts a call that came in at 3:47 AM on a sleet-thick October night, from a man who had just woken up on a steel table in the morgue of the abandoned St. Jude's Hospital outside Harlow, Ohio. The building had been condemned for eleven years, its power supposedly cut, its phone lines dead. But the call connected. The man on the line — he gave his name as Daniel Thorn — said he'd been running from something in the woods, that he'd crawled into the hospital's basement through a broken…
The Call from the Snowbound Gas Station Payphone
January 2003. A blizzard has shut down Interstate 90 near Belle Fourche, South Dakota. Luna is working the overnight shift at the regional dispatch center when a call comes in from a payphone at a gas station that closed down in 1987. The man on the line says his car broke down, but the payphone hasn't worked in sixteen years. She can hear the snow howling through the receiver. She can hear him breathing. She patches him through to a tow truck, but when the driver arrives, there's nobody…
The Call from the Derelict Roadside Motel's Crawlspace
It's the dead of winter in a town that lost its interstate bypass thirty years ago. Luna takes a call from a boy hiding in the crawlspace of an abandoned motel—the same motel where his family stopped for the night, the same motel where something has been living in the walls for decades. He whispers because he can hear it moving in the dark. He whispers because his parents are still in the room above. Luna listens to the floorboards creak, to the thing that doesn't breathe right, to the long…
The Call from the Motel Vending Machine in the Storm
It's the last week of October 2019, and a freak ice storm has shut down half of Route 9 in eastern Nebraska. Luna is working the overnight shift when a call comes in from a vending machine—specifically, the one in the breezeway of the Pine Ridge Motel outside Ogallala. The caller is a man named Dale, and he's not calling about a stuck bag of chips. He's trapped in the machine's coin-return cavity—not physically, but something else. Something that speaks through the soda cans. Something that…
The Call from the Derelict Grain Elevator's Control Room
A late-night phone from a man trapped in a grain elevator outside the town of Meridian. He says he was only looking for shelter from the storm. But the silo has a memory of its own, and the grain still shifts and whispers in the dark. Luna takes the call — and by the time she understands what's inside with him, the line has already gone silent. A story about hunger, silence, and the things that wait in dry places. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #911HoldMusic #Anthology #GrainElevator #Meridian…
The Last Call from the Derailed Freight Car
Winter solstice, 3 AM, outside the town of Mercy, Nebraska. A freight train derails on the old Union Pacific spur. The 911 call comes from a trapped conductor inside a crushed railcar. But as Luna patches him through to rescue, she realizes the line is carrying something else—a voice that does not belong to any living dispatcher. A voice that answers from the other end of the track. This is the story of that call, the signal that should not exist, and the silence that followed when the line…
The Call from the All-Nighter Diner's Dishwasher
It's late November, just past 2 AM, in the town of Larkspur, Iowa. Luna takes a call from a dishwasher at the All-Nighter Diner on Route 9. The man's voice is low, scraped raw, like he's been gargling gravel. He says something is living inside the industrial dishwasher — has been for weeks. He's seen its shadow move behind the steam, heard it hum a different frequency when the machine runs empty. He calls because the owner won't believe him, and because last night, the machine started running…
The Call from the All-Nighter Diner's Basement Stairwell
A slow Tuesday shift in late October, just past 2 AM. The all-nighter diner on Route 9 is empty except for a trucker nursing cold coffee and a waitress named Delia who's been working the graveyard shift for twelve years. A call comes in from the diner's own landline — the one bolted to the wall near the basement door. The voice on the other end is Delia's daughter, who's been missing for seven months. Luna listens as the dispatcher tries to keep Delia calm while tracing a signal that shouldn't…
The Call from the All-Nighter Diner's Basement Stairwell
It's 3:17 AM in late November, and the All-Nighter Diner on Route 9 is quiet except for the hum of the walk-in cooler and the crackle of the fryer oil settling. A call comes in from the payphone in the back hallway — but when Luna answers, it's not a customer. It's a boy who says he's been locked in the basement stairwell for three days. The door only opens from the outside. The lights went out on the second day. And he's not alone down there. The call keeps cutting out, and every time it comes…
The Call from the All-Nighter Diner's Lost and Found
It's a cold November night at the All-Nighter Diner off Route 17, and Luna is the only one working the graveyard shift. At 2:47 AM, the payphone near the bathrooms rings — a number she doesn't recognize. On the other end, a woman's voice, calm and familiar, asks if she can check the lost and found for a necklace. Luna knows the voice. She heard it last week when a woman named Carla died in Booth 4, her hand clutching something that wasn't there. The story she tells is about the things we leave…
The Call from the All-Nighter Diner's Walk-In Freezer
It's 3:47 AM in late October, and Luna takes a call from a walk-in freezer at a diner called the Rusty Spoon, on the edge of a town that doesn't appear on most maps. The caller is a dishwasher who says something followed him inside when he went to grab a case of frozen hash browns. He says the door shut behind him and the latch won't budge. He says he can hear the thing pressing against the other side of the door, breathing slow and wet. But the thing isn't trying to get in — it's standing…
The Call from the Bird Sanctuary Night Log
It's late October, just after midnight, and I'm taking calls at the county dispatch when a woman named Celia rings in from the Ponderosa Bird Sanctuary, a converted farmhouse off Old Mill Road. She's doing her nightly rounds, checking the injured birds in the back shed, when she notices the barred owl that came in with a broken wing is gone—the cage door is open, but the latch was padlocked from the outside. She sounds calm, almost too calm, as she tells me she found a note tucked under the…
The Call from the Motel Key Box
A 911 dispatcher in the small town of Cressville, Virginia, receives a call from a motel off Route 29. The caller is a woman named Marlene who says she's trapped in a room with a key box that keeps rattling. As the dispatcher listens, the rattling grows more insistent, and Marlene's story unravels—she checked in hours ago, but the front desk gave her a key to a room that was already locked from the inside. The dispatcher tries to trace the call, but the system shows the call originating from a…
The Call from the Motel Soap Dispenser
It's February 2023, just past midnight, and I'm working the night shift at the Tri-County dispatch center. The call comes in from a gas station bathroom off Route 9 in a town called Larkspur — a woman's voice, quiet, telling me the soap dispenser in the men's room is whispering. I think it's a prank, but she gives me the exact words it's saying. Names. Addresses. My home address. My mother's maiden name. I send a unit anyway, and the officer finds the dispenser full of blood and bone shards…
The Call from the All-Nighter Diner Menu
It's 3:47 AM in late October, somewhere out on Route 17 in eastern Kentucky. The diner is the only lit building for miles, vinyl booths and a counter that smells like burnt coffee and bleach. The cook is the only other person there — he stands motionless behind the grill, eyes fixed on the wall. I try to order, but the menu he hands me is laminated paper with a single item listed: a dish called 'The Long Wait.' The price is blank. The cook's name tag says 'Emory,' and when I ask him what it is…
The Call from the Motel Laundry Room Dryer
It's late October in Elko, Nevada, and Luna takes a call from a woman trapped in a motel laundry room. The dryer keeps running, but nothing is inside it. The woman says she didn't go in there—the door locked behind her. As Luna tries to guide her out, the sound from the dryer changes: a low, wet thumping, like something heavy tumbling. The woman's voice goes thin, then stops. When the police arrive, the room is empty. The dryer is off. But the lint trap is full of dark, matted hair. Luna ends…
The Call from the Motel Ice Machine on Thanksgiving
It’s Thanksgiving night in the small town of Ridgeline, and I’m working the dispatch desk alone. The graveyard shift is quiet—until the call comes in from the Oakwood Motel. A woman’s voice, low and muddy, asking for the ice machine. Not for an emergency. Not for directions. She just wants to know if it’s running. I look up the motel on the map. It’s been abandoned for years. The lights are off, the lot is empty. But she insists she’s standing in the lobby, right next to the machine. I can hear…
The Call from the Motel Ice Machine
It's August 1998 in the town of Meridian, Nevada, and Luna is working the night shift at the county dispatch center. A call comes in from a payphone outside a roadside motel — a woman's voice, calm at first, then fraying. She says the ice machine in the parking lot has been running for three days straight, even after the motel manager unplugged it. Luna listens as the woman describes the sound: a low grinding, like teeth on metal, and something else — a voice buried in the machinery, reciting…
The Call from the Motel Ice Machine
Luna revisits a night in early October 2019, when a single disconnected payphone in the parking lot of a closed motel in Surprise, Arizona, rang forty-seven times in a row. She couldn't shake the feeling that the call was meant for someone who wasn't there — or for someone who was no longer there. This episode is a quiet meditation on unanswered calls, the sound of a receiver cradled in an empty booth, and the dread of knowing that when you finally pick up, there might be nothing on the other…
The Call from the Motel Linen Closet
A lone 911 dispatcher answers a call from a locked linen closet at the Edgewood Motor Inn, just off Interstate 80 in eastern Wyoming. The caller is a housekeeper named Doreen, who says she heard something moving inside the walls—something that has been following her from room to room all night. Over ten tense minutes, Luna guides Doreen through the dark as the sounds grow closer, until the closet door begins to shake on its hinges. A story about the things that listen from behind the plaster…
The Call from the Motel Shower Drain
Luna recounts a call from a woman named Cora, stranded at a run-down motel off Route 22 in western Nebraska. It's late autumn, just before Thanksgiving. Cora is in room 17, and something is moving inside the plumbing of her shower drain. Not a rat or a clog—something with fingers. The call lasts forty-three minutes. Luna listens as the sound changes from a scrape to a wet whisper to a voice that seems to know Cora's full name. The motel manager claims no one else is on the property. By the end…
The Call from the Payphone Outside the Abandoned Drive-In
Summer 1997. A woman calls 911 from a payphone outside the long-closed Starlite Drive-In outside Red Bluff, Indiana. She says she's nine years old and she's been waiting for her mother to come back from the concession stand. The problem is, the drive-in has been abandoned since 1985. Luna takes the call and keeps the girl on the line as the night gets darker and the voice starts to flicker. No one else is there. No one has been there for twelve years. But the girl keeps describing the movie…
The Call from the Motel Room 9 Wall
April 1998, two in the morning. A single light blinks on the call board at the county dispatch center. The voice on the other end is a woman named Cora, and she is calling from a motel room that hasn't been rented in nine years. She says she just woke up on the bed. She says the wallpaper is bleeding. She keeps describing things that don't exist anymore: a rotary phone, an ashtray, a man in a brown suit standing in the corner. Luna stays on the line for forty-seven minutes, pulling records…
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