Episodes
The Well at the Old Miller Place
A letter arrives postmarked from Blackwood Valley, no return address. Inside, a woman named Ruth writes about the well behind her farmhouse—how, after her husband died, she started hearing a voice calling up from the stone shaft at midnight. Luna drives out on a cold November night to listen for herself. What she finds in the reflection at the bottom will stay with her longer than she wants. A story about grief, isolation, and the things we hear when we're alone in the dark. #FexingoHorror…
The Folding Woman at Old Mill Road
Luna reads a letter from a woman named Margo, who worked the night shift at the 24-hour laundromat on Old Mill Road. One rainy November night, a woman in a blue dress arrives with a single white shirt. She washes it, dries it, and folds it—over and over, for hours. She never speaks, never blinks. Margo tries to ignore it, but the woman returns night after night. The folding becomes obsessive, mechanical. Then Margo finds a name tag sewn into the shirt: her own name. She digs into the building's…
The Phone at the End of Old Mill Road
A letter from a woman named Sarah arrives at the night desk, postmarked from Blackwood — a town you’ve never heard of. She writes about the phone booth at the dead end of Old Mill Road, how it rings every night at 1:17 AM, how she finally answered and heard a child repeating a number. She dialed it. She reached a voicemail belonging to a woman who died in 1998. Now the calls follow her inside her house. A quiet, creeping story about voices that refuse to stop reaching out, even from places that…
The Writing on the Mirror at 12 Willow Street
Luna opens a letter from a woman named Evelyn, who moved into a rented house on Willow Street in the small town of Scarlet Falls. At first it was just scratching in the walls — mice, the landlord said. But the scratching stopped, and something started writing on her bathroom mirror in her own handwriting. 'They save a space for every listener.' Then her reflection smiled when she wasn't smiling. The return address on the envelope is a house that burned down ten years ago. A quiet, unsettling…
The Note in the Bible at the Hemlock Creek Motel
A traveling salesman returns to his room at the Hemlock Creek Motel to find a torn note tucked inside the Gideon Bible. The handwriting is childlike, desperate. He dismisses it, but the next morning the words have changed. He writes back, and a correspondence begins across time—from a room that doesn't exist. Luna reads a letter from a listener who lived it, and she can't shake the feeling that somewhere, in a motel that was never built, a child is still waiting for an answer. #HemlockCreek…
The Teddy Bear in the Basement of the Thorne House
A letter arrives from a woman in Clearwater who has recently moved into an old house and can't sleep because of a child's laughter echoing from the basement. She finds a teddy bear in a hidden closet—a bear with a missing button eye and a voice box that plays a lullaby Luna hasn't heard since her own childhood. As Luna reads, the details align too perfectly with a bear she lost forty years ago. The story traces the geography of a single house on Maple Street, the autumn of 1999, and the…
The Boots on the Porch of the Womack Place
Summer 1987. A girl housesitting alone on a dead-end road in Elko, Nevada starts noticing a pair of mud-caked work boots appearing on the front porch each night exactly at 3:13 AM. Then the footsteps inside begin. Luna tells the story of Sarah Womack, who woke up night after night to the sound of someone walking through her grandmother's house in the dark, always stopping at her bedroom door. No prints on the carpet. No one in the house. Just the boots on the porch each morning, placed neat and…
The Light in the Window of the Hemlock Creek General Store
When Luna takes a wrong turn on a rainy October night, she ends up in Hemlock Creek—a town that doesn't appear on any map. The general store is still open, its window glowing amber through the fog. Inside, an old woman named Esther sells her something she didn't ask for: a story about a boy who went into the woods and came back wrong. The story seeps into Luna's skin like the damp. By morning, she can't remember the way out of town. And the light in the window… it's still on. This episode is…
The Key in the Lock of the Hemlock Creek Depot
A key left in the lock of a forgotten train depot in Hemlock Creek, and the woman who couldn't stop turning it. Luna reads a letter from a listener named Sarah, who found an old iron key rusted into the lock of the Hemlock Creek Depot one October evening in 2019. The key turned, the door opened, and something on the platform began to move — not the train, but a figure that had been waiting since 1952. Sarah's letter describes week after week of return visits, the sound of a whistle that never…
The Survey at the Edge of Ponderosa Pines
In the summer of 1994, a wildfire survey crew working the perimeter of Ponderosa Pines National Forest radioed in a final reading from an unmarked ridge. The crew of three was found the next morning, sitting in their truck, eyes open, mouths moving as if reciting coordinates. Their logbook contained a single repeated entry: the same latitude and longitude, written 47 times in increasingly frantic handwriting. Luna reads from the archived transcript of the incident, and from a letter left behind…
The Stained Map at the Hemlock Creek Gas Station
Late autumn, 2019. Luna stops for fuel at the last gas station before the Hemlock Creek bridge — a place she's passed a hundred times without a second glance. But tonight, the station is unmanned, the pumps are dark, and the only light comes from a flickering sign that reads 'CLOSED UNTIL DAWN' in a font nobody remembers. Inside, pinned to the wall behind the counter, is a hand-drawn map of a town that doesn't exist — marked with red X's and dates that haven't happened yet. The attendant, when…
The Chair in the Parlor of the Hemlock Creek Sheriff's Station
In the autumn of 1987, a woman walks into the Hemlock Creek Sheriff's Station at 2:47 AM, wearing a blue dress with no shoes. She sits in the wooden chair by the water cooler and begins to talk. Not to the deputy on duty—she talks to someone who isn't there. The deputy records everything she says. By morning, he has seventeen pages of transcript, a Polaroid of the chair where she sat, and a story that the town will never repeat aloud. This is what she told him that night, and what the chair…
The Lock in the Basement of the Hemlock Creek Library
October 1987. The public library in Hemlock Creek was closing for good, and I was helping the last librarian pack. That's when I found the lock. A heavy, old-fashioned padlock on a steel door in the basement, behind a shelf of moldering atlases. Nobody had a key. The door wasn't on any building plan. But the worst part wasn't the lock itself — it was what I heard when I pressed my ear to the cold metal. A sound that made me understand why the library had to close. And why the librarian wouldn't…
The Photograph in the Hemlock Creek Pharmacy Window
It's late autumn in Hemlock Creek, and the pharmacy on Main Street has a new photograph in its window. Luna was there when it was taken. She remembers the girl standing in front of the camera, the flash, the silence after. But the girl in the photograph isn't the one who posed. And the pharmacist won't say who left the print. Luna walks us through that night — the cold glass, the face that didn't match, the name written on the back in pencil. A quiet, unsettling story about images that remember…
The Weight on the Bridge at Hemlock Creek
November 1989. A woman named Iris Calloway steps onto the covered bridge at the edge of Hemlock Creek just before midnight. She isn't the first to cross that bridge at that hour. She isn't the first to feel the boards groan differently under her weight. But she is the first to stop halfway and look down. What she sees in the water below—and what she hears in the silence above—is a story that has been waiting for someone to carry it. Luna reads from a letter postmarked three weeks ago, postage…
The Mirror in the Parlor of the Hemlock Creek Inn
Luna receives a letter from a woman named Claire, who rented a room at the Hemlock Creek Inn in the winter of 2019. The room had a full-length mirror in the parlor, bolted to the wall. At first, Claire noticed nothing strange, but after a week, she began to see someone standing behind her in the reflection—someone who was not there when she turned around. The figure grew clearer each night, and Claire started keeping the mirror covered with a sheet. But the innkeeper told her the mirror was…
The Bridge on Old Hemlock Road
Luna tells the story of a night in late October 2019 when she found herself on a crumbling one-lane bridge over Blackwood Creek, three miles outside of Hemlock Creek. A man in a soaked wool coat stood at the railing, staring down at water that hadn't run in decades. He said he was waiting for someone who crossed here every night. But the bridge was closed in 1972. Luna stayed and watched, and what she saw just before dawn has left her unable to drive that road after dark. No gore, no monster…
The Map on the Wall of the Hemlock Creek Post Office
Luna finds a letter describing a hand-drawn map pinned on the corkboard at the Hemlock Creek Post Office, dated October 1987. The map leads to a dead tree at the edge of a marsh where something waits beneath the roots. She visits the spot herself one foggy evening and finds a small iron box containing a child's drawing of a woman with no face. The story follows the letter writer's obsession—a woman who returned to the tree night after night until she stopped coming home. No one knows what she…
The Doll at the Crossroads of Old Hemlock Way
Luna reads a letter from a woman named Iris, who in the autumn of 1987 stopped her car at the crossroads of Old Hemlock Way and found a doll propped against the signpost. Not abandoned — placed. A porcelain doll with painted eyes that seemed to follow. Iris took it home, against every instinct, and that night the sounds started. Not footsteps. Not whispers. Something worse: the sound of a small voice humming a lullaby from the next room, and in the morning the doll's position had changed. What…
The Bell at the End of Sycamore Lane
March 1967, a stretch of Sycamore Lane that dead-ends at a dry creek bed. An old iron bell mounted on a post, no clapper, no rope. Every night at exactly two-fifteen, someone rings it. Not the wind, not an animal. A woman in a housecoat claims she watched a man in a fedora walk up to it, swing his arm through the air, and the bell rang. Luna couldn't shake the story, so she drove out there herself, parked in the dark, and waited. She heard it. Three clear tones, no source. Then she saw the dent…
The Stairs in the Cellar of the Hemlock Creek Hotel
A letter arrives at the Night Desk, postmarked from a town that no longer exists on any map. Inside, a woman recounts a single night in the summer of 1987, when she worked the late shift at the Hemlock Creek Hotel — a place that had been closed for years. She was the only person there, or so she thought, until she heard footsteps from the cellar. Not the boiler or the pipes — measured, deliberate steps, climbing stairs that had been sealed off since the hotel burned down in 1953. She tells Luna…
The Light in the Bell Tower of the Hemlock Creek Church
Luna reads a letter from a woman who spent a summer in the small town of Hemlock Creek, where every night at 2:33 AM a light would flicker in the bell tower of the abandoned First Reformed Church. The woman, a light sleeper, began watching it. She learned that the light had been appearing since 1987, the year a teenage boy vanished from the church basement. She decided to investigate. What she found in the tower wasn't a person or a ghost—it was a single bare bulb, hanging from a rafter, with a…
The Music Box in the Attic of the Hemlock Creek Boarding House
Luna recalls a winter night years ago when she investigated a strange melody drifting from the attic of an old boarding house on Chestnut Street. The tenant, Mrs. Harlow, claimed the music box played by itself. Luna found the box, engraved with the name Elara, and learned from the landlady that a girl named Elara had died in that room seventy years ago. Luna took the box home, and over the following nights, she heard the tune again — fainter, but unmistakably the same. She returned the box to…
The Grave at the Crossroads of Route 9 and Old Mill Road
It's late autumn, 1987. A woman named Elise drives home from the night shift at Hemlock Creek's all-night diner, takes a shortcut down Old Mill Road, and sees something at the crossroads that makes her slam the brakes. A figure stands at the intersection — not moving, not speaking — just standing in the beam of her headlights. When she gets out to check, the figure is gone, but the ground at the center of the crossroads looks … disturbed. Freshly turned earth. No headstone. No marker. Just a…
The Spool on the Singer in the Hemlock Creek Tailor Shop
In the autumn of 1987, a tailor on Birch Street in Hemlock Creek began hearing his wife's Singer sewing machine run after midnight—two years after she had passed. He found the spool half-empty and the needle still threaded with black silk, stitching something he could not see. When Luna visited the shop, the machine was gone, but the sound had followed her home. A story about grief, unfinished work, and the threads we leave behind. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #LettersToTheNightDesk…
The Cradle in the Attic of the Hemlock Creek Schoolhouse
Luna reads a letter from a woman named Eliza, who in the autumn of 1984 took a temporary teaching job at the old Hemlock Creek Schoolhouse. The building had been closed for years, but a small kindergarten class was being held in one room while repairs were made. The children refused to go near an attic door at the back of the classroom, whispering about a baby that cried at night. Eliza dismissed it as superstition until she heard the sound herself — a thin, muffled wail coming from behind that…
The Clock on the Mantel of the Wainwright House
In the winter of 1987, a young woman named Nora took a job as a live-in caretaker for an elderly man in the old Wainwright House on the edge of Hemlock Creek. The house was silent except for the ticking of a grandfather clock in the parlor—a clock that never needed winding. Nora soon learned that the clock didn't keep time; it counted something else. Each night, she heard footsteps on the stairs that matched the rhythm of the pendulum, and the old man spoke of a daughter who had died forty…
The Window at the End of Mulberry Lane
October 1987, a Tuesday night. Luna pulls over on Mulberry Lane outside the town of Alder Creek because her headlights catch something in an upstairs window—a woman in a blue dress, standing perfectly still, watching the empty street. The house has been abandoned since the Callahan fire in '74. But the woman is there every night, rain or frost, and Luna finds herself coming back, night after night, to sit in her dark car and watch the window. What begins as curiosity becomes a ritual, a lonely…
The Pay Phone at the Edge of Stony Creek
Luna recalls a November night in 1998 when she stopped for gas at a tired station outside Stony Creek, Ohio, and found a pay phone ringing in the dark. No one was there. No one had called. But the phone kept ringing every time she tried to leave. The attendant told her it had been ringing every night since the girl in the photograph disappeared. Luna picked it up. What she heard on the other end—a voice she almost recognised, a conversation that didn't belong to her—made her drive two hours…
The Stained Photograph at the Hemlock Creek Diner
Luna recalls a night in late November 2023 when a woman named Eleanor left a sealed envelope at the Night Desk. Inside was a single photograph—a family portrait from 1978—and a letter asking Luna to look at it closely, then burn it. The photograph showed Eleanor, her husband, and their two children in front of a house on Cypress Lane. But in the background, through a window, there was a face that didn't belong: a man with no eyes, standing in the upstairs hall. Luna tried to return the…
The Bookshelf in the Study of the Morrow House
A woman inherits a crumbling Victorian house from a grandmother she barely knew. While clearing out the study, she finds a bookshelf that rearranges itself at night—and a collection of books that seem to be written about her own life, years before she lived it. The stories in them are not quite right, but close enough to make her skin crawl. Set in the autumn of 1999, in the town of Morrow Falls, this is a quiet, slow-burn horror about inheritance, identity, and the dread of being watched by…
The Locked Drawer at the Hemlock Creek Pharmacy
It's a wet November night in 1972 when Luna stops at the all-night pharmacy on Elm Street for aspirin and finds an old woman behind the counter who seems to expect her. The woman, Mrs. Garrity, presses a key into Luna's hand and asks her to open the locked drawer beneath the register — the one she's never been able to open herself. Inside is a single letter, dated 1948, written to a man who died the day before it arrived. But the letter isn't the real weight. It's the name on the envelope, the…
The Door in the Floor of the Cedar Grove Chapel
Luna receives a letter from a woman in the town of Emberidge, a dry mountain valley where nothing green grows. The letter describes a chapel built by the town's founder in 1873, with a door set flush into the floor behind the altar. No lock, no handle, just a brass pull ring. The woman's husband opened it one night. He came back different — not violent, not angry, just… empty. The letter is stained dark at the edges. Luna reads it twice, then looks at the postmark. The letter was mailed from…
The Empty Room at the End of June Road
It was the summer of 1998, and I was driving through the town of Mercy Falls, Maine, when I stopped at a roadside motel called the Pine Rest. The woman at the front desk, a tired woman named Carol, warned me about the room at the end of the hall—Room 17. She said previous guests complained of a child's voice counting. I took the room anyway. What I heard that night was not a child. And when I finally understood what was counting, it was already too late. This is a story about a room that…
The Room at the End of the Hall at the Nightfall Motel
It's October of 1987, and the Nightfall Motel sits on a forgotten stretch of Route 9 outside of Hemlock Creek. Luna checks in at eleven PM to find a key taped to an envelope under the office door. Room 109 has a working TV, a buzzing mini-fridge, and a closet door that doesn't quite latch. By three in the morning, she learns why the previous occupant checked out early. A story about what stays in a room long after the guest is gone. #NightfallMotel #HemlockCreek #Route9 #Room109 #October1987…
The Typewriter in the Window of the Hemlock Creek Gazette
Luna reads a letter from a retired journalist in the town of Ash Grove, who spent thirty years covering local news—obituaries, church suppers, a missing child every December. After his retirement, he bought the same model of typewriter he'd used at the paper and set it up in his study. One night, the keys began to move on their own, typing a story he never filed: a first-person account of a fire that destroyed a house on Sycamore Street in 1974. The byline was a name he didn't recognize. Each…
The Well at the Edge of Cedar Springs
In the summer of 1997, on a dead-end road outside the sleepy town of Cedar Springs, there was a well that nobody talked about. I was seventeen, spending July with my grandmother, when a boy named Eli showed me the cracked stone ring hidden behind blackberry brambles. He told me the story his grandfather told him — about a woman who lowered a lantern into the dark and never pulled it back up. I didn't believe him. But that night, I walked out alone, and I heard something rising from the stone…
The Safe at the Hemlock Creek Savings Bank
December 1989. A bank teller in the small town of Hemlock Creek notices something strange about the old safe in the basement — a combination lock that sometimes spins on its own, a ledger from 1927 with a single entry in a child's handwriting. When she stays late to investigate, she finds the safe holds something that was never meant to be money. Luna recounts the story of Margaret Cole, who learned that some debts are counted in years, not dollars, and that the bank's longest account was never…
The Candle in the Window of the Beacon Hotel
Luna recalls a winter night at a small hotel off Route 9, where a candle in each window signals a traveler is safe inside. But the Beacon Hotel's keeper, an old woman named Elara, lights one extra candle every night for a guest who never arrives — and the hallway counts them as they pass. When Luna stays there during a snowstorm, she learns why that unoccupied room smells of perfume and old rain, and why the floorboards outside it never creak. A quiet meditation on waiting, loss, and the light…
The Book on the Shelf at the Hemlock Creek Library
Luna receives a letter from a woman in the small town of Millbrook, who describes a strange book she found on a library shelf in the summer of 1989. The book had no title, no author, and its pages were filled with a single, repeating word: 'Listen.' The woman, Nora, became obsessed with the book, carrying it home and reading it aloud, only to realize that the word was not a suggestion but a command. As she read, she began to hear things—footsteps in the attic, breathing in the walls, a voice…
The Mirror in the Parlor of the Blackwood Sisters
It was the autumn of 1987 when I found myself in the town of Milford, New Hampshire, at the invitation of a woman named Eleanor Blackwood. She wrote me a letter that smelled of cedar and mothballs, asking me to come see a mirror in her parlor. Not to look at it, she said. To listen. The mirror had belonged to her mother, and her grandmother before that, and it had been in the family for over a hundred years. But something had changed. The reflections weren't right anymore. Eleanor's sister…
The Stained Apron at the Crooked Spoon Diner
Luna revisits the all-night diner on Route 9 outside Hemlock Creek — the Crooked Spoon, where the coffee was always burnt and the pie case hummed like a second refrigerator. She tells the story of the cook who worked the graveyard shift through the winter of '97, a man named Ellis who never spoke, only wrote orders on a notepad. His apron, stained with something that wasn't coffee or grease. The night the health inspector came and found the walk-in freezer locked from the inside. No neat…
The Bell on the Door of the Junk Shop on Mercy Street
It was November of 1998, just after midnight, when I found myself standing outside a junk shop on Mercy Street in a town called Dunmore. The bell on the door was old brass, the kind that rings once when you push through. But that night it kept ringing, long after I was inside, and the man behind the counter didn't seem to notice. He just smiled and said the bell had a habit of doing that. I should have left then. But I stayed, because I saw something on a shelf in the back — a photograph of a…
The Mannequin in the Window of Dorcas's Dress Shop
In the dead hour between last call and dawn, the mannequin in the window of Dorcas's Dress Shop on Hemlock Street turns its head. Not every night. Just nights when a certain kind of loneliness walks past. Luna tells the story of a man named Arthur who saw it move, and what he did about it. Set in the small town of Millbrook, late autumn, 1987. A story about wanting to be seen so badly you'd let something that isn't human look back at you. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #LettersToTheNightDesk…
The Switch at the Hemlock Creek Crossing
In the autumn of 1993, Luna's uncle Ray worked the night shift at a railroad crossing in the small town of Hemlock Creek. The job was simple: pull the lever when a train was coming, wait, then pull it back. But one night in late October, a northbound freight passed through at 2:17 AM—a train that was not on the schedule, and that never seemed to end. Ray counted cars until his hand cramped, until the sound of the wheels became a voice, calling out names he knew. When he finally looked up from…
The Grave at the Edge of Pennyroyal Road
A woman named Claire spots a figure digging at a roadside grave on Pennyroyal Road, month after month, always on the night of the new moon. She watches from her car, never getting close enough to see its face. When she finally approaches the site at dawn, she finds a freshly dug hole lined with her own handwriting. Luna pieces together the uncanny pattern of a ritual that began long before Claire was born, and a debt that may never be settled. #PennyroyalRoad #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast…
The Last Tape at the Driftwood Motel
It's the summer of 1988, and Luna is driving through the Oregon coast at dusk when a storm forces her off the highway into the Driftwood Motel — a faded roadside relic with a neon sign that buzzes but never fully lights. The night clerk, a hollow-eyed man named Eldon, gives her Room 7 and warns her not to open the closet. She finds a cassette tape on the nightstand, labeled 'Eve — For Who Finds It'. The tape contains a single voice: a woman named Eve, recorded over many nights, speaking to an…
The Dead Letter at the Hemlock Creek Post Office
Luna receives a letter postmarked thirty years ago from a town that no longer exists — Hemlock Creek, drowned under a reservoir. The letter is addressed to a woman named Clara, who vanished the night before the town was flooded. Inside the envelope: a single skeleton key, a photograph of a house underwater, and a note that reads 'I left the back door unlocked.' Luna drives to the reservoir at low water, finds the house still standing in the mud, and unlocks the door. What she finds inside is a…
The Clock in the Parlor of the Hargrove House
Luna receives a letter from a woman in Millbrook, Vermont, who bought an antique grandfather clock at an estate sale—only to find it doesn't tell time. It counts something else. Something that happens in the parlor every night at 3:03 AM. The woman describes the sound it makes: not chimes, but a single soft thud, like a fist against wood from inside the case. She opened the back panel once. What she saw inside wasn't gears. Luna reads the letter aloud, then tells what she found when she drove…
The Music Box at the Fairlane Motel
A woman finds a music box in the nightstand of room 14 at the Fairlane Motel outside Millbrook, New York, in the winter of 1998. The lid lifts on its own at 3:33 AM, and the melody that plays doesn't sound like any song she's ever heard. She asks Luna to help her understand what she heard that night—and why, years later, she can still hum the tune note for note, even though she's never found a recording of it. What follows is a quiet unraveling: a journey through old motel ledgers, a…
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