Episodes
The Woman at the Tollbooth
Late October, 2019. Luna is driving the old state road past Millhaven when she stops at a lonely tollbooth under the Pendleton Overpass. The woman inside the booth doesn't blink, doesn't take her money, and speaks a phrase that doesn't belong to that night. What Luna sees in the rearview mirror stays with her long after she drives away. A story about ghosts that don't know they're dead, and the small kindnesses that keep them tethered. #TalesFromTheColdRoom #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast…
The Night She Watched the Smoke at the Dunstan Bridge
A woman driving home from her shift at the processing plant notices a plume of smoke rising from the old Dunstan Bridge in Dunstan, West Virginia. There's no fire, no cars, nothing. She watches it night after night, drawn to its impossible stillness. When she finally reaches out, the smoke wraps around her arm, cold as river water. She pulls back, but the smoke follows her home. It settles in her reflection. Now she sees it every time she looks in a mirror—a thin wisp behind her eyes. She…
The Night She Watched the Gate at the Glenvale Cemetery
Luna tells the story of Evelyn Holloway, a woman whose house bordered Glenvale Cemetery. One autumn night, Evelyn noticed the cemetery's iron gate swinging open at precisely the same hour—with no wind, no person. What began as an oddity became an obsession. She watched the gate every night, and soon the gate began to watch back. A slow-burn tale of boundary lines and what crosses them. Recorded live from the Cold Room. #TalesFromTheColdRoom #HorrorPodcast #FexingoHorror…
The Bird Feeder on Buckhorn Road
December 1998 in Cleary, West Virginia. A trailer park on Buckhorn Road. Luna's neighbor, Mrs. Haskins, loves cardinals, so she hangs a feeder by her stoop. But the birds that come at night aren't cardinals. They're black, too large, and silent. They don't eat — they watch. They count the trailers. They take notes. And when Luna sees one standing on two legs on a roof, she understands that the feeder was never about birds. It was about being seen. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast…
The Night She Watched the Clock at the Hargrove Library
Late autumn, just before midnight, I found myself in the Hargrove Public Library. The librarian, Mrs. Alden, was locking up when she noticed I had nowhere to go. She let me stay, but warned me about the grandfather clock in the main reading room. It had kept perfect time for over a century, she said, but lately it stopped at exactly 11:11 PM every night. And when it stopped, something else started. I thought she was just a lonely old woman telling stories. Then the clock stopped. And I heard…
The Night She Watched the Door at the Capitol Theatre
Winter 1998. A Friday night. Luna is hired as a night watchman at the Capitol Theatre, a crumbling movie palace in the small town of Ridgely. Her only instruction: watch the door on the left side of the stage. Never open it. The dressing room behind it was sealed after a performer named Anna hanged herself during the final show. Luna obeys — at first. But as the hours pass, she hears a rhythmic tapping from inside. Three taps. Pause. Three taps. She sees a faint glow under the door. The knob…
The Night She Watched the Dog at the Mathers House
November 1997. A farmhouse outside Muncie, Indiana. Luna's cousin calls her about a stray dog that has been scratching at the back door for three nights straight. It looks like a Labrador but its joints bend wrong, and it never blinks. By the fourth night, the scratching is inside the walls. A story about hunger, about the shape a voice takes when it hasn't been used in decades, and about the thing that finally answered when someone said 'here, boy' into the dark. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast…
The Night She Watched the Pine at the Cold Spring Rest Stop
October 1998, a little after midnight. Luna pulls over at the Cold Spring Rest Stop off Route 9 in upstate New York, a place she has passed a hundred times without stopping. Tonight she needs a break from a long drive, and the rest stop is empty — just a cinderblock building, a vending machine buzzing in the dark, and a single pine tree at the edge of the lot. But there is a woman sitting on the bench under that pine, a woman in a long coat who does not move when Luna walks past. And when Luna…
The Night She Watched the Fire at the Gilchrist House
Winter 1994 at the Gilchrist House, a boarded-up Victorian on the outskirts of Bellbrook, Ohio. Luna's friend Claire took a job as a fire watch on the night crew, following a string of suspicious arsons in the county. It was meant to be boring—eight hours in a folding chair, a thermos of coffee, a radio. But the fire she was supposed to watch for found her from the inside. This episode is about the smell of gasoline on a cold night. The way a locked room can get warm without a source. The voice…
The Night She Watched the Man at the Van Buren Gas Station
On a frozen December night in 1993, Luna's car died on the shoulder of Route 9, just outside Van Buren, Missouri. She walked to a gas station — the only light for miles — where the attendant seemed to have been waiting for her. He didn't speak. He didn't blink. He just watched her from behind the register, smiling that same smile, as the clock above the cigarette rack cycled through hours she couldn't account for. Outside, the pumps ticked over without anyone touching them. This is a story…
The Night She Watched the Phone at the Hungry River Inn
December 1997, the Hungry River Inn, three miles outside of Hungry River, West Virginia. Luna was twenty-three, working the front desk for seventy-five dollars a week and a room above the boiler. The inn had nine rooms, a static-washed television in the lobby, and a switchboard that hadn't rung after midnight in the six months she'd been there. Then, just past two in the morning on a Tuesday, it rang. The caller was a woman who said she was in Room 6, but Room 6 was standing open and empty all…
The Night She Watched the Man at the Pines Motel
A deserted stretch of Highway 22 in eastern Oregon. November 2019. A motel with a flickering vacancy sign and a room that should have been empty. Luna's cousin worked the front desk that week and called her afterward, his voice wrong — not scared, but hollowed out. He told her about the man who checked in at 2AM without a car, without luggage, without blinking. About the smell that came from Room 8. About what he saw through the gap in the curtains. A story about a debt older than either of…
The Night She Watched the Window at the Treadwell House
February 1987. A snowed-in farmhouse outside Mineral Springs, Illinois. Luna's aunt Gladys called her to sit vigil at a second-story window every night for a week—no reason given, just 'watch the field.' The first three nights: nothing. The fourth night: a figure, too tall, wearing a coat that moved wrong. The fifth night: the same figure, closer. By the sixth night, Luna understood what her aunt had been watching for—and why she never spoke about it. A story about family silences, inherited…
The Night She Watched the Light at the Barlow House
October 1987. A forgotten farmhouse on a dead-end road outside of Cresswell, Missouri. Luna's cousin Janelle took a job house-sitting for an elderly widow who was 'visiting family out west' — except the widow had no family, and the house had rules. Don't touch the thermostat. Don't go upstairs after midnight. And if the porch light goes out, don't look to see who turned it off. What Janelle found in that house wasn't a ghost. It was something much older, much more patient, and it had been…
The Night She Watched the Well at the Harwick Place
November 1997. A two-story farmhouse outside Harwick, Illinois, abandoned for forty years. Luna's uncle asked her to check on the property before the county condemned it. What she found in the house was ordinary dust and silence. What she found in the well behind the house was something else entirely. A story about a place that was never meant to be watched—and the thing that watched back. No gore. No monsters. Just a sound at three in the morning, a rope that moved on its own, and a question…
The Night She Watched the Tracks at Spruce Creek Crossing
November 1998. A frozen stretch of railroad outside Spruce Creek, Missouri. Luna's cousin June called her that night — said she'd seen something on the crossing that wouldn't stop counting. By the time Luna got there, the air smelled of creosote and burnt copper, and the gate was down over an empty track. June was still in her car, engine running, hands on the wheel at ten and two. She wouldn't explain what she saw. She just kept repeating a number. This is the story of that night, and the…
The Night She Watched the Boat at Moon Lake Marina
September 1987. A woman named Cora Meeks spends three nights in a row at Moon Lake Marina, sitting alone in a green rowboat that hasn't moved from its slip in twelve years. She doesn't speak. She doesn't fish. She just sits, facing the deepest part of the lake, as the fog rolls in just before dawn. The night manager, a man named Harlan, tried to talk to her twice. The first time, she didn't blink. The second time, she told him something he still can't repeat aloud. Luna was there that third…
The Night She Watched the Stairs at the Mercer Hotel
Luna recounts a night in January 1998 when she stayed at the Mercer Hotel in Carthage, Iowa—a faded brick building with a single working floor and a staircase that seemed to keep count. Between 2:14 and 3:47 AM, the stairs produced footsteps that never arrived. A woman in a beige coat appeared on the landing, asked her name, and then matched it to a list written in ink that smelled of burnt honey. The night clerk had no record of any guest above the second floor. Luna tells this story quietly…
The Night She Watched the Ceiling at the Eldridge
October 1987. Luna takes a room at the Eldridge Hotel in Jasper, Missouri, a faded Route 66 relic where the wallpaper sags and the radiators clank. She's there to transcribe tapes for a folklorist, but the room above her is occupied by someone—or something—that doesn't sleep. All night, she listens to the pacing. The dragging. The single heavy object being moved across the floor, then moved back. When she finally asks the front desk about the guest upstairs, the clerk's smile goes tight and he…
The Night She Watched the Fence at the Honeycutt Farm
September 1998. A two-lane road outside Dutton, Alabama. Luna stops at a gas station on a night run and meets a woman sitting alone at a picnic table—a woman who insists she is waiting for something that comes through the fence at the Honeycutt place every night at two in the morning. Luna offers her a ride. The woman refuses. She says she has seen the same car pass four times, driven by a man who looks like her grandfather but isn't. She says the fence is new, and the farmer who put it up is…
The Night She Watched the Chimney at the Hoke House
It's late autumn, 1987, in the little town of Gretna, Illinois, and I ended up at the old Hoke House—a place kids dared each other to touch, not enter. I was there to check on a friend of a friend, a woman named Miriam who'd moved in alone after her husband died. She'd been calling the station with complaints about a knocking in the walls. Nothing structural, she said. It came from inside the brickwork. The chimney, she thought. But the chimney was sealed off years ago. When I got there, the…
The Night She Watched the Mirror at the Bluebird Motel
February 1998. A woman checks into Room 8 of the Bluebird Motel outside Bakersfield, California on a cold, wet Tuesday night. She is running from something she will not name. Luna watches from the office window as the woman carries a single duffel bag inside. But the motel has a history — a guest who never checked out, a mirror that shows rooms that do not exist. What Luna witnesses through the thin walls and rain-streaked glass is a slow unraveling, a conversation with someone who is not…
The Night She Watched the Change at the Penrose Diner
Luna takes a late-night shift at the Penrose Diner outside Mercer, Pennsylvania, in October of 2008. The regulars are sparse, the coffee is weak, and the waitress before her left a cryptic note taped under the register: 'Watch the change.' Luna thinks it's a warning about the till. She's wrong. Through the graveyard hours, she watches a man in a grey coat count and recount coins at the counter, his totals never matching—and the numbers start to mean something else. A story about ledger lines…
The Night She Watched the Bell at St. Dymphna's Asylum
In the winter of 1987, Luna’s great-aunt took a job as night aide at St. Dymphna's, a crumbling Catholic asylum outside Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. The east wing had been sealed for decades, but every night at 2:17 AM, the bell tower rang three times—a bell that had been locked and disconnected since 1954. Luna's aunt kept a log of the nights she heard it, and of the footsteps that followed. When the bishop sent an electrician to cut the bell rope, the ringing did not stop. This is her story…
The Night She Watched the Window at the Carson City Bus Depot
February 1998, Carson City, Nevada. Luna was stranded at a Greyhound depot that had closed for the night. The last bus didn't come. The waiting room was empty except for a woman in a grey coat who sat by the window and never blinked. Luna watched her watch the glass. She watched her mouth the words. She watched her press her palm to the pane until the frost melted in the shape of a hand that did not belong to anyone on the other side. This is a story about being the only one awake, about the…
The Night She Watched the Cat at the Old Stone Church
Luna remembers a winter night in 2019 when she stopped at a crumbling stone church outside Mount Gilead, Kentucky. A boy named Caleb had been leaving food on the altar for a stray cat that never came. But when Luna sat in the pew and watched, she saw something else moving through the shadows—something that wore the cat's shape but wasn't the cat. The church had been abandoned for forty years. The offering plate still held a few wilted dollar bills. And the boy's mother spoke of a prayer he'd…
The Night She Watched the Door at the Garfield Hotel
Luna checks into the Garfield Hotel outside Elko, Nevada, a crumbling Route 66 relic that should have been demolished decades ago. It is a dry, wind-scoured February night, and the clerk gives her a key to Room 16 without meeting her eyes. The room smells of carpet cleaner and something older, something that has seeped into the baseboards. She spends the night watching the door — not because she hears anything, but because the crack of light under it will not stay the same width. The shadow…
The Night She Watched the Sign at the Last Chance Motel
March 1992. A woman named Evelyn checks into the Last Chance Motel outside of Mojave, California — a faded U-shaped motor court with a neon sign that flickers between 'Vacancy' and 'No.' She's driving cross-country after leaving her husband, and she just needs one night of sleep. But the room is too cold, the lock doesn't catch, and the sign… the sign isn't wired to spell anything but 'VACANCY' anymore. That first night, she lies awake and watches the neon buzz through the blinds, and she…
The Night She Watched the Board at the Mountain Laurel Inn
December 1987. A roadside motel in Edisto, West Virginia, where the snow fell so thick the roads closed by noon. Luna was working the front desk when a man in a gray coat checked in — no luggage, no car, just a long stare at the registration book. He asked for Room 14, the one at the end of the hall with the warped door. Over three days, she watched him walk the same path: from his room to the payphone, never dialing, then back. She never heard the phone ring, but on the third night it rang…
The Night She Watched the Switch at Shiloh Junction
November 1987. Luna's father worked the graveyard shift at the railroad crossing in Shiloh, a two-stoplight town in central Illinois where the trains never stopped running. After he died, she took his place for one night—just to see what he saw. The crossing guard's shack is a rusted box on concrete blocks, lit by a single bulb that buzzes when the 3:17 freight comes through. That night, a train passed at 3:17. Then another at 3:19. Then one at 3:22, silent except for the hiss of brakes. Luna…
The Night She Watched the Engine at the Twin Forks Garage
October 1987. Twin Forks, West Virginia. A garage at the edge of town that only opens after midnight. Luna's cousin Ray had been working the night shift for three weeks when the first car pulled in at 2 AM—a rusted Ford LTD with no plates and a man who wouldn't get out. Ray thought it was just a drunk. Then the next night, another car. Same model, different color. Same man behind the wheel. Same refusal to speak. Luna drove out to sit with Ray on the fourth night, and that's when she saw what…
The Night She Watched the Vacant Lot on Sycamore Street
Luna recalls a summer night in 1997 when a woman named Esther kept watch over a vacant lot on Sycamore Street in the small town of Meridian, Ohio. Esther was hired by the town council after a boy disappeared from that lot three weeks earlier. Night after night, Luna sat with her in a lawn chair, watching the weeds shift in the dark. What came out of the ground was not a body. What came out of the ground was something that had been waiting. This is a story about what it means to keep a promise…
The Night She Watched the Payphone at Benton's Grocery
June 1987, just past midnight, in the parking lot of Benton's Grocery outside Hargrove, Illinois. Luna's car won't start, and the only working payphone for miles sits under a buzzing fluorescent light. She calls for a tow, but the phone rings back — and the voice on the other end knows things it shouldn't. A story about the last payphone in a dying town, the crackling line that connects the living to the dead, and what happens when you answer a call that was never meant for you. #Payphone…
The Night She Watched the Parking Lot at Hartsville High
It's 2008, late November, and Luna is a junior at Hartsville High in rural Tennessee. She takes a part-time job watching the faculty parking lot from a booth in the northeast corner, 8 PM to midnight, after the football games and before the janitors leave. The lot is empty most nights — just her, a space heater, and a crackling police scanner. But around 11:15, a minivan pulls in and parks under a dead light. The driver doesn't get out. The engine keeps running. Luna watches the van for three…
The Night She Watched the Silos at Crescent Grain
October 1987. A rural grain elevator outside Crescent, Illinois, three hours before dawn. Luna's cousin Della took a temp shift monitoring the silos after the night man walked off. The job was simple: sit in the control room, watch the temperature gauges, log the moisture content every hour. But the grain speaks when it settles—a low groan through the steel. And the augers, even when the power's cut, have a way of turning on their own. Della learned that the old hands never go into the silos…
The Night She Watched the Dirt at Potters Field
In the winter of 2003, Luna worked a graveyard shift at the county coroner's office in rural Maysville, Kentucky. A routine call came in from the state road crew about an unmarked grave near an old pauper's cemetery known as Potters Field. What they found beneath the frozen dirt was not what anyone expected—a shallow grave, a single iron headstone with a name scratched into rust, and a hole that seemed to breathe. Luna was tasked with watching the site until daylight, keeping the county's only…
The Night She Watched the House at the End of Fitch Lane
It was the fall of '93 in a town called Bowers Hollow, and I was staying in a borrowed house at the dead end of Fitch Lane. Every night around 2 a.m., a light came on in the upstairs window of the house next door—the one that had been empty for six years. I watched for three weeks, and I never saw anyone go in. But I saw the shadow on the wall, night after night, and it was always doing the same thing: writing something on the wallpaper, over and over. By the time I left, the light had moved…
The Night She Watched the Road at the Old Rumsey Bridge
October 1993, a back road outside Driftwood, West Virginia. Luna's cousin calls her at 2 AM, frantic and out of breath, saying the same old iron bridge she crosses every night is refusing to let her go. Luna drives out to find her cousin's truck idling on the gravel approach, headlights cutting through fog that smells of wet stone and cold metal. The bridge is barely thirty feet long, but her cousin has been circling it for two hours, ending up at the same spot every time. Luna gets in the…
The Night She Watched the Tollbooth at White Ash Pass
October 1997. A woman named Della takes the night shift at a deserted tollbooth on a mountain road nobody uses anymore. The state is about to decommission the pass—too many accidents, too many people going missing between the switchbacks. Della's job is to sit in the booth until dawn and log the last cars through. She brings a thermos of coffee, a paperback, and a radio that only picks up static around the bend. The first car comes through at midnight. A green sedan with no plates. The driver…
The Night She Watched the Body at the VFW Hall in Crab Orchard
It's late autumn, 1998, in the small town of Crab Orchard, West Virginia. Luna's friend Danny asks her to sit with a body at the local VFW hall — a watching, he calls it, for a man who died alone with no family to claim him. She agrees, expecting a quiet, dutiful night. But as the hours crawl past midnight, she begins to notice details that don't add up: the man's hands, clenched too tight; the bruise on his temple that looks more like a pattern; the faint smell of something chemical seeping…
The Night She Watched the Well at Cold Spring Orchard
October 1987. Luna's cousin Marlene takes a seasonal job at Cold Spring Orchard, a pick-your-own apple farm in Ellenton, New York. The job is simple: man the register, fill bags, smile at families. But Marlene starts noticing the well behind the barn — a stone ring covered by a rusted grate that the owner, old man Haskill, keeps padlocked. He tells her it's 'just an old well, nothing down there but cold water.' But the grate has a bell tied to it, and at night the bell rings. Not in the wind.…
The Night She Watched the Watch at the Hollybrook Mortuary
November 1967. Luna takes a temporary job at Hollybrook Mortuary in rural Vermont, assisting the elderly mortician, Mr. Coyle. Her task is simple: sit with the dead on the night before burial, recording any anomalies in a ledger. But the body of a young woman, found drowned in the Batten Kill, refuses to stay still. The watch on her wrist ticks backward. Her fingernails grow in the dark. And at exactly 3:00 AM, the corpse sits up and speaks in a language older than the town. Luna must decide…
The Night She Watched the Attic at the Peabody Boarding House
October 1982. Luna takes a temporary night watchman job at the Peabody Boarding House in Balsam Grove, a dying mill town in eastern Tennessee. The house is almost empty — just three long-term tenants, all elderly, all quiet. Her instructions are simple: walk the halls every hour, check the attic door stays locked, and never open it. The first week is boring. The second week, she starts hearing the rocking chair. It comes from above — a slow, rhythmic creak, always after midnight, always from…
The Night She Watched the Tannery at Old Morton
December 1987. Luna takes a temp job at the abandoned Morton Tannery, where a night watchman vanished two weeks earlier. Her only instruction: walk the perimeter every hour and listen for the pumps. But the pumps haven't run in years. The building breathes. The drains cough. And somewhere in the dark, something is still drying the hides. This is a story about a place that never stopped working — even after the workers left. About the weight of a job that goes on forever. And about the thing…
The Night She Watched the Icehouse at Shallow Lake
It was the winter of '87, the coldest on record in Shallow Lake, Indiana. Luna took a week-long shift at the town's old icehouse, a relic from before electric refrigeration, where the lake ice was cut and stored in sawdust until summer. The job was simple: keep the kerosene heater burning so the pipes wouldn't freeze, note the temperature every hour, and listen. But the icehouse had its own memory — the scrape of the ice saw, the echo of men's voices from decades past. On the third night, Luna…
The Night She Watched the Oven at the Traveler's Rest Motel
October 1987. Luna takes an overnight shift at a rundown motel outside Elko, Nevada, where a strange old woman checks in with nothing but a suitcase and a request: do not disturb. The woman never leaves her room, but every hour, the ancient oven in the motel kitchen clicks on by itself. Luna finds handwritten recipes in a language she doesn't recognize, and the smell of something sweet and wrong begins to seep under doors. By dawn, she makes a choice about what she's willing to open.…
The Night She Watched the Road at the Shady Rest Motel
November 1987. Luna takes a room at the Shady Rest Motel outside Belton, Texas, to escape the rain and her own thoughts. The parking lot is half-empty, the neon sign buzzes, and the woman at the front desk warns her not to open the curtains after midnight. Luna keeps watch from the window anyway, and what she sees on the access road—a car that passes every hour, never slowing, never reaching the end of the road—pulls her into a quiet, breath-held vigil that lasts until dawn. A story about…
The Night She Watched the Weigh Station at Lacey Corners
October 1987. Luna pulls over at a remote weigh station on Route 9 in Lacey Corners, New York, after midnight. The scales are lit but the booth is empty. A trucker named Lowell tells her about the woman who ran this station alone for forty years — how she weighed every truck by hand, wrote down the numbers in a leather ledger, and never once used the phone. He says she retired last spring. But the light is still on, and the ledger is still open. Luna steps inside. The pages are blank — except…
The Night She Watched the Bridge at Coon Creek
July 1987. A one-lane iron bridge over Coon Creek, outside a town called Jasper, North Carolina. Luna's uncle kept a fishing shack nearby, and she used to spend summers there. One night, past midnight, she walked to the bridge because she couldn't sleep. There was a woman standing at the center, wearing a white dress that didn't move in the wind. She didn't speak, but she pointed down into the water. Luna looked. The water was shallow, barely three feet deep, but there was something caught…
The Night She Watched the Morgue at St. Catherine's Hospital
December 1987. A night volunteer at a small-town hospital morgue in Elk River, Minnesota, discovers that the dead are not always silent. When a Jane Doe's body arrives with a name tag that wasn't there before, and the freezer drawers begin to thump in sequence, she learns that some secrets can't be kept cold. A quiet, bone-chilling story about what happens when you're the only one who can hear the dead. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #TalesFromTheColdRoom #Morgue #StCatherinesHospital #ElkRiver…
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