Episodes
The All-Night Laundromat on Old Mill Road
Door 19 of the calendar opens to a faded photograph of a laundromat under a buzzing fluorescent sign. Luna remembers a story from her cousin Carla, who worked the overnight shift at a rundown laundromat on Old Mill Road in Millbrook. Every night at 2:47 AM, a woman in a yellow raincoat would walk in, never with laundry, and sit in the corner watching a single dryer tumbling a pillow. Carla never spoke to her—until one night the power flickered and the woman turned to face her. What the woman…
The Tollbooth at the End of the Covered Bridge
Driving home on a foggy October night, Luna finds herself on an old covered bridge with a tollbooth she has never seen before. The silent attendant takes her coin, and a cold finger against her forehead. She drives through unchanged—or so she thinks. A small thing, maybe. But years later, she still catches herself checking her reflection, wondering what exactly she left behind on that bridge. A story about paying a price you didn't know you owed, set on a rural Vermont road just before…
The Phone Call at the Booth Outside the Palace Diner
Luna opens door number eight on her halloween calendar and finds a faded matchbook from the Palace Diner on Route 9. She remembers the phone booth beside it, the one that rang every night at midnight for a week in October 1997. The waitress who answered said there was never anyone there — just the sound of leaves. But the last time she picked up, the leaves were rustling on her own front porch. #horror #horrorpodcast #fexingohorror #allhallowscalendar #palacediner #route9 #phonebooth…
The Last Room at the Bluebird Motel on Route 11
October 1998. A woman checks into the Bluebird Motel on a cold stretch of Route 11 in upstate New York, hoping to outrun a past she can't shake. The night clerk warns her about Room 8 — stays locked, always has been. But the door is open when she passes. The room is cold, the sheets are damp, and the mirror reflects something that isn't there. She stays three nights. She doesn't sleep. Luna tells the story of a place that collects what people leave behind — not luggage, not keys. Something…
The Burned Room at the White Rose Motel on Route 38
October 1987. A single mother and her young daughter check into the White Rose Motel on a rain-slicked stretch of Route 38 outside Bellwood, Pennsylvania. The night clerk gives them Room 14 — the last available. By morning, the mother cannot remember why she chose that motel, why she stopped there, or what woke her at three a.m. to find her daughter standing at the foot of the bed, pointing at the wall. Luna retraces the route, talks to the clerk who still works the night shift, and finds a…
The Jack-o'-Lantern on the Porch of the Wilcox House
October 31st, 2023. A cold wind off Lake Erie. Luna finds herself on the porch of the old Wilcox house on Hemlock Street, a house that has stood empty for thirty years. But this Halloween, someone has carved a jack-o'-lantern there. The face is wrong—the eyes are too wide, the mouth too long, the teeth too many. And the candle inside does not flicker. It burns steady, like a watchful eye. She should leave. She knows she should leave. But the pumpkin's grin seems to widen as she stares. And when…
The Jack-o'-Lantern on the Steps of St. Mark's Church
On the last Halloween before the town of Cold Spring shrank to nothing, Luna was twelve and too old to trick-or-treat but too young to stay home. She followed the other kids up Cemetery Hill, past the boarded-up houses, to the one porch on Maple Street where the old woman handed out full-size candy bars from a bowl shaped like a skull. But on the steps of St. Mark's Church, between the rusted iron fence and the yew trees, sat a jack-o'-lantern that wasn't carved by any human hand. The face it…
The Crossing Guard at the End of School Street
Luna recalls the autumn of 1998 in the small town of Millbrook, New York, when a new crossing guard appeared at the corner of School Street and Maple Avenue. Old Mrs. Kowalski had retired after thirty years, and in her place came a young woman with a quiet smile and eyes that did not blink often enough. The children whispered she smelled like wet earth and cold metal. Luna watched her wave the flag each morning and evening, her movements too precise, her lips moving constantly in a silent…
The Graveyard Shift at the Truck Stop on Route 17
October 1998. Luna's cousin Danny worked the overnight register at the Blue Moon Truck Stop outside Elko, Nevada. He told her about the regulars who came through: the long-haulers with their CB handles, the waitress who'd worked there since it opened, and the man who always ordered black coffee and never spoke. Then one night Danny saw something in the parking lot that made him quit without notice. This is the story of what he saw, and what it left behind. A slow-burn recollection about…
The Last Pumpkin at the Farmer's Market on Oak Street
It's Halloween night, 1992, and the farmer's market on Oak Street is closing up for good. The vendors have packed their tents, the lights are off, and only one stall remains—a lone table with a single pumpkin, a handwritten sign that says 'FREE,' and a man who won't leave. Luna was there because she'd heard a rumor about that stall, about the pumpkin that never rots, about the man who's been sitting there every Halloween for as long as anyone can remember. But what she found wasn't a prank or a…
The Ledger at the End of Copper Road
October 1987. Luna's uncle bought a farmhouse at the end of Copper Road, a dead-end lane outside a town called Wexler. The house came with a cellar door that had been bolted from the outside, and a ledger book in the attic with entries that spanned decades—each one a name, a date, and a single word: 'Satisfied.' Her uncle thought it was a joke at first, a prank left by the previous owners. But when he found his own name written in the last entry, dated the day he closed on the house, he stopped…
The Key in the Door at the End of Locust Lane
On a damp October night in 1997, Luna's cousin Margie borrowed a house key from a neighbor on Locust Lane in the town of Ashburn, New York. The key opened a door that led not into the neighbor's kitchen, but into a hallway that should not have existed—a corridor lined with doors that opened onto other people's lives, other years, other versions of the same street. Luna tells the story of what Margie found behind the third door, and why she never came back the same. A quiet, unsettling tale…
The Girl at the Motel on County Road 17
It's Halloween night, 2007. Luna is driving home on County Road 17 when she spots a figure standing at the edge of a closed motel's parking lot — a girl in a thin dress, no coat, barefoot. She pulls over. The girl doesn't speak, just points at the motel's neon sign, which flickers in a pattern that spells out letters no one can read. Inside, the office is still unlocked, the front desk cluttered with newspapers from 1973. A rotary phone on the counter rings when Luna touches a key on the board.…
The Last Letter at the Post Office on Winter Street
Luna opens door number twenty-three on the All Hallows' Calendar and remembers the winter of 2019—when the small post office on Pine Ridge's Winter Street became a place where the dead sent their goodbyes. She tells the story of the letters that appeared in the wrong mailboxes, all postmarked from people who had already died, all bearing the same looping handwriting. No one knew who was writing them. The postmaster, old Mr. Connelly, started keeping them in a locked drawer. By February, he had…
The Jackpot at the All-Night Gas Station on Route 22
It's Halloween night, and Luna is alone at her kitchen table with a flickering jack-o'-lantern and an old advent calendar. She opens another door — the one for October 31st — and finds herself back on Route 22, at the all-night gas station that shouldn't exist. The man behind the counter wears a name tag that says 'Jack.' He doesn't blink. He doesn't speak. He just watches. And the jackpot on the scratch-off ticket he hands her isn't money — it's a memory she didn't know she'd lost. A quiet…
The Empty Chair at the End of the Dinner Table on Hemlock Street
Halloween night, 1989. Luna's grandmother sets an extra place at the table for someone who has been dead for thirty years. The chair stays empty until midnight, when the front door swings open and something sits down. A story about family rituals, the weight of tradition, and the hollow space between what we remember and what we should have forgotten. Set in the kitchen of a small house on Hemlock Street, Ridgewood, New York. #HemlockStreet #RidgewoodNewYork #EmptyChair #HalloweenRitual…
The Swing Set at the End of Sycamore Lane
On a cold October night in 1997, I found myself driving aimlessly through the outskirts of Evergreen, Ohio, trying to outrun a silence that had been following me for weeks. That's when I saw her — a girl on a swing set at the dead end of Sycamore Lane, pumping her legs in the dark without a sound. I stopped the car. I watched. And I learned that some playgrounds don't close when the sun goes down. They open. This is a story about the weight of loneliness, the shape a wish can take when nobody's…
The Last Man at the Red Lantern Motel on Route 9
Luna pulls back the red curtain on a story from the fall of '97, when she spent a night at the Red Lantern Motel off Route 9 in western Pennsylvania. The clerk was old, the place was empty, and the room had a door that didn't lead anywhere. But the man in Room 17 — the one who checked in three days before and never left — he was the one who made her understand why some places don't let you go. A quiet, slow-burn encounter with a stranger who had already stopped counting the days. No ghosts. No…
The Apple Tree at the End of Orchard Road
Late October, just after midnight. A single apple tree stands at the end of Orchard Road in the small town of Muirwood. Luna recalls the year she was twelve, when a neighbor girl named Bethany dared her to pick an apple from that tree. The fruit was perfect — red, unblemished — but the tree had been dead for years. What Luna found inside that apple, and what she saw in the house behind the tree, has stayed with her ever since. This is a story about childhood dares, the things we choose not to…
The Shadow at the End of the Driveway on Hemlock Ridge
October 1998. Luna is twelve, riding her bike home along Hemlock Ridge Road as dusk falls. The last house before the woods has a long gravel driveway with a single light at the top — but tonight the light is out, and something is standing in the dark. She doesn't look back, but she hears it. Twenty-five years later, she still takes the long way home. A slow-burn memory of childhood fear, of the things we learn not to see. #HemlockRidge #TheShadow #Driveway #October1998 #ChildhoodHorror…
The Window Seat at the Bus Station on Route 19
In the dead hours of a November night, Luna finds herself stranded at the Greyhound station on Route 19 outside Elkhart, Indiana. The place is nearly empty except for a man in a long coat who sits perfectly still in the window seat of the waiting area—not reading, not sleeping, just watching the empty highway. At first she thinks he's waiting for a bus like her, but as the hours crawl by, she notices things that don't fit: the way he never blinks, how the glass fogs where he breathes but never…
The Porch Light at the End of Lantern Lane
A wandering Halloween night leads Luna to a cul-de-sac where every house seems dark—except one. The old woman on the porch invites her in for tea, but the jack-o'-lanterns on the steps keep changing. And the woman keeps calling her by a name that isn't hers. Set on Lantern Lane in the town of Millbrook, on a cold Halloween night in 2018. A quiet, intimate story about mistaken identity and the things left unfinished. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #Luna #AllHallowsCalendar #Halloween #LanternLane…
The Man on the Bridge at the End of Tamarack Road
Luna recalls a cold November evening years ago when she took a wrong turn on an unlit stretch of Tamarack Road in the outskirts of Millbrook, New Hampshire. Night had fallen at four-thirty, and the bridge over the frozen creek was barely visible in the fog. A man stood at the railing, dressed in a dark coat that seemed too thin for the weather. He was not waiting for anyone. He was not watching the water. He was listening — head tilted, hand raised slightly, as if someone had just spoken. Luna…
The Jackpot at the All-Night Gas Station on Route 22
It's Halloween night, and I'm telling you about the time I stopped at the all-night gas station on Route 22, just past the county line. The year was 2016, and the leaves were all down, slick with rain. I was driving home from a visit to my mother's grave, and I needed gas. The station was empty except for a clerk who looked like he hadn't slept in days. He told me about the jackpot — the lottery ticket that had been sitting in the register for three years, never claimed. But it's not the money…
The Jack-o'-Lantern at the End of Pender Lane
It's Halloween night, and Luna finds herself drawn to a solitary jack-o'-lantern glowing at the far end of Pender Lane—a road she knows ends in a cul-de-sac where no one lives. The pumpkin is fresh, carved with a face that seems to shift when she looks away. She hears a child's whisper from behind it, but there's no one there. Each year on this night, the same pumpkin appears, and each year, someone new is compelled to approach. Luna tells the story of the night she almost took it home.…
The Jackpot at the All-Night Gas Station on Route 22
When I worked the graveyard shift at the Shell on Route 22, the night of October 30th was quiet. A single car pulled in just after two in the morning—a dusty sedan with a man who didn't blink. I remember the way he stood at the counter, buying a pack of wintergreen gum and a map, staring at the coffee pot like he was waiting for something. By the time I realized he had never actually driven away, the parking lot was empty, and my gas pump had registered 45 gallons to a car that only held…
The Bell at the End of Oakwood Lane
It is the night before Halloween, 1987, in the small town of Harwood, Ohio. Luna's childhood neighbor, old Mrs. Kowalski, calls her over to help with one last chore before the holiday—an old brass bell in the backyard, tied to a rope hung from the oak tree. Mrs. Kowalski claims the bell must be rung exactly once at midnight on Halloween to keep something in the woods from crossing the lane. Luna thinks it's just a superstitious ritual, but as the night deepens and the wind dies, she hears the…
The Jackpot at the All-Night Gas Station on Route 22
It's past midnight on Halloween, and Luna pulls into a gas station on Route 22—the only light for miles. The attendant, a man named Elias, warns her not to play the jackpot machine. But the machine has a name. It has a history. And it knows exactly what you want. A story about a small-town myth that turns out to be true, and a prize you can never redeem. Written by Luna, read by Luna. #Route22 #GasStation #JackpotMachine #Elias #Halloween #SmallTownHorror #Midnight #NoExit #FexingoHorror…
The Last Bell at St. Agnes School
Luna opens door number 24 on her Halloween calendar and finds a small brass bell. It reminds her of a story her grandmother used to tell — about the old St. Agnes School for Girls, which closed in 1972 after a fire in the east wing. The school was demolished years ago, but some people still claim to hear a bell ringing from the empty lot on autumn evenings. Luna's grandmother was a student there on the night of the fire, and she never spoke of what she saw. But on her deathbed, she gave Luna a…
The Jackpot at the All-Night Gas Station on Route 22
It was almost midnight on a Tuesday in late October when I pulled into the Silver Star gas station on Route 22, just outside the town of Millbrook. The place was empty except for the attendant, a woman named Delia who wore a faded denim jacket and seemed to be waiting for something. She told me about the man who came every night at the same time, bought a single scratch-off ticket, and always lost. But last week, he didn't lose. He won a jackpot so large the machine jammed. And then he didn't…
The Christmas Tree Lot on Miller Road
December 1998. A small Christmas tree lot in the parking lot of a closed Kmart on Miller Road, on the outskirts of a town called Eastridge. Luna was eleven. She went with her father to pick out a tree. The man running the lot was old, with a crooked smile and hands that shook when he tied the twine. He told her father the best ones were in the back. Luna wandered past the rows of spruces and found a single tree standing apart, its needles black, its branches perfectly still in the wind. A small…
The Jackpot at the All-Night Gas Station on Route 22
Luna pulls the fifty-second door from the All Hallows' Calendar and finds a tarnished coin stamped with a grinning jack-o'-lantern. The image takes her back to a November night in 2017, when a convenience store clerk named Danny watched the lottery machine tick out a sequence of numbers that didn't belong to any drawing. The win started with a hundred dollars, then a thousand, then a figure that should have been impossible. But the more the jackpot grew, the more the customers began to change…
The Laundromat on Route 9 After Midnight
On the last night of October, Luna stops at a coin laundromat on the outskirts of Milford, New Hampshire, where a woman in a beige coat is folding the same load of sheets over and over. The fluorescent lights hum a half-step off. The dryers run empty. And when the woman speaks, her voice sounds like it's coming from somewhere far away — like she's been waiting here a very long time for someone who never showed up. Luna stays past closing, watching the spin cycle, listening. What she learns…
The Porch Light at Number 7 Wisteria Lane
Halloween night, 2018. A cold front swept through Meridian, Ohio, and the streetlights buzzed orange and dead. I was nineteen, walking home from a party where someone had served cider that tasted like copper. I didn't plan to stop at Number 7 Wisteria Lane. But the porch light was on, and the door was cracked, and an old woman was sitting in a rocking chair, knitting something that looked like a child's sweater. She didn't speak. She just smiled and nodded at the empty chair beside her. I sat…
The Jack-o'-Lantern at the End of Shady Lane
Halloween night, 1998. A boy named Caleb leaves a party early and takes a shortcut down Shady Lane, a dead-end road where the streetlights have been broken for years. He finds a single jack-o'-lantern sitting on a stone wall, its candle still burning despite the rain. The face is wrong—the eyes are too close together, the mouth is a tight, lipless slit. When he touches it, the pumpkin is warm, like skin. The next morning, the lantern is gone, but the stone wall is covered in small handprints…
The Pumpkins at the End of Pritchard Road
October 1997, Pritchard Road, just outside of Meridian, Ohio. Every Halloween, someone left a carved pumpkin on the porch of the abandoned Hargrove house. No one knew who. No one ever saw it happen. But the pumpkins were always fresh, always lit, and always grinning. Luna drove past that house every night for a week, and on the last night, she saw something that made her stop the car. A story about what waits for the ones who keep coming back, and the price of being remembered on a night that…
The Scarecrow at the Edge of Dunmore Field
October 1987. A back road outside Dunmore, Indiana. Luna's car overheats near a cornfield where a scarecrow stands in the last light—and doesn't look like it was made from straw. A quiet, suffocating encounter with something that watches from the edge of the field, night after night. No gore. No escape. Just the rustle of cloth and the smell of rot. #Scarecrow #DunmoreIndiana #Cornfield #October1987 #BackRoads #SomethingWatching #RustlingCloth #RottingSmell #FrozenInPlace #FieldAtNight…
The Doll in the Window of the Toy Shop on Sycamore Street
In the autumn of 1998, a toy shop appeared overnight at the end of Sycamore Street in Millbrook, a small town that had sworn the building had been empty for years. Luna walks past it one gray October afternoon and stops at a single porcelain doll in the window — a girl in a blue dress, eyes that seem to follow, hand raised as if in mid-wave. She returns every day that week, watching the doll shift position, watching the shop never open its doors. On Halloween night, she finally tries the…
The Tire Swing at the End of Redwood Lane
October 1992, the night before Halloween in the small town of Redwood, Illinois. Luna's cousin Emily dared her to walk the length of Redwood Lane, past the abandoned house at the dead end, and touch the tire swing that had hung there since the Whitfield girl disappeared three years earlier. Luna didn't believe the stories—until she reached the tree. A slow-burn episode about childhood dares and the things that wait for us at the edge of town, quiet and patient, still swinging. #RedwoodLane…
The Porch Light at the End of Hemlock Road
Luna recalls a Halloween night in the small town of Raven's Hollow, where a strange porch light at an abandoned house on Hemlock Road seemed to respond to her presence. What began as a childhood dare turned into a decade-long obsession, as she discovered the light only appeared to those who had lost something irreplaceable. The light never spoke, but it knew. Now, years later, Luna returns to find the house gone, but the light still waiting—this time, in her own window. #RavensHollow…
The Door at the End of the Hall on the Fourth Floor
Halloween night, 1998. Luna is housesitting for her aunt in the small town of Ashburton, a place where the sidewalks roll up at nine and the only sound after midnight is the wind. The house is a Victorian on Maple Street, three stories, with a locked door on the fourth-floor landing that her aunt never mentioned. That night, Luna hears a key turn in the lock. What she finds behind the door is not a room. It is a corridor that shouldn't be there, lined with doors exactly like the one she just…
The Coat on the Hook at the Blue Moon Diner
October 1998. A waitress at the Blue Moon Diner on Route 9 outside Millbrook remembers a regular named Frank who stopped coming after a car fire on the bridge. But his coat never left. Every night at 2:14 a.m. it hangs on the same hook, and the door swings open. Luna worked the overnight shift for three weeks last fall and tells you what she saw — the hat that was never there, the coffee order that came from the register after hours, the night the coat finally held something warm. A story about…
The Storm Drain at the End of Cedar Avenue
In October of 2017, on the last warm night before winter, a boy named Danny Morrison disappeared from the corner of Cedar and Sycamore in the town of Millbrook, Indiana. He was ten years old, wearing a blue hooded sweatshirt, and he was last seen kneeling by the open grate of a storm drain. Two weeks later, his father found the sweatshirt—clean, folded, and laid out on the kitchen table. This is what the father told me when I met him at the Sunnyside Diner on Route 9, three years later, over a…
The Last Passenger on the 3:12 to Stillwater
October 1987. A man named Frank Delaney boards the 3:12 AM bus from Marston to Stillwater, hoping to sleep off the last of his shift at the paper mill. He chooses a seat near the back, next to a woman who doesn't blink. She smells of damp plaster and old paper. She does not speak. She does not move. The bus passes through fog, through a town that shouldn't exist on any map, through a tunnel that wasn't there an hour ago. Frank counts the miles by the streetlights that go out one by one behind…
The Wind Chime at the End of Pender Lane
October 1997. A one-story house at the end of a dead-end street in Stonewick, New Hampshire. Luna's friend Claire moved there with her mother after the divorce. The house had a back porch with a brass wind chime that never stopped moving—even when the air was perfectly still. At first it was just eerie. Then it started keeping time. Not to the weather. To something else. Something inside Claire's mother. Luna tells the story of three weeks in that house, the sound of the chime at three in the…
The Chair at the End of the Hallway in the Belvedere Hotel
November 1999. A man checks into room 19 of the Belvedere Hotel in Copper Springs, a faded resort town whose autumns are gray and empty. He notices a wooden chair at the end of the fourth-floor hallway, facing the wall. Every night he returns after dinner, and the chair has moved—closer, inch by inch. The desk clerk says no one else ever touches it. The carpet beneath the chair is worn to thread where it never should be. By the third night, the chair is outside his door. By the fourth, he wakes…
The Key Under the Mat at the Rosebud Inn
November 2019. A stranded traveler on a rain-slicked stretch of Highway 12 outside Red Bluff, California, takes shelter at the Rosebud Inn — a roadside motel that seems frozen in another decade. The room is clean but the air is wrong: sweet and metallic, like old pennies and overripe fruit. The key under the mat fits the lock, but the door opens onto a version of the room that is not quite the one he paid for. The wallpaper pattern shifts when he looks away. The bathroom mirror reflects a…
The Wishing Well at Manderley Crossing
October 1997. Luna is nineteen, driving back roads alone, when she stops at a wishing well behind an abandoned gas station outside the town of Manderley. The well is older than the pavement around it—hand-carved stone, deep enough that a dropped stone takes four full seconds to hit water. Someone has been leaving things there. Not coins. A child's shoe. A photograph. A letter folded into a shape she doesn't recognize. She tells you what she saw that night, and what she heard when she leaned too…
The Ghost of the Mustard Seed Diner on Route 17
On a drizzly November night in 2017, Luna stopped at a diner off Route 17 in eastern Vermont, the Mustard Seed, known for its late-night blue plate specials and a jukebox that only played Patsy Cline. The waitress, a woman named Della with a name tag that said '25 years', moved like she was underwater. A man in a booth hadn't touched his coffee in three hours. And the jukebox kept repeating 'Crazy' even after the plug was pulled. This is a story about something that stays because it forgot how…
The Tree That Grew Around the Fence at Blackwood Lane
Luna recalls a rainy October evening in the town of Millhaven, where an old oak tree on Blackwood Lane had grown around a rusted iron fence, absorbing it ring by ring. Local legend said the fence was put up in 1887 to keep something out—or in. One night, a young man named Daniel tried to prove the legend wrong by cutting into the tree. What he found inside the bark made him drop the saw and walk away without a word. Luna tells the story of what was pulled from the hollow, and how the tree has…
Showing the latest 50 episodes. The full archive of 83 is on Apple Podcasts, Spotify and every major podcast app — or via the RSS feed above.