All Hallows' Calendar — Fexingo Horror

In the autumn of 1997, on a dead-end road outside the ghost town of Jericho Bend, Luna met a man tending a bonfire at a crossroads. He offered her a choice: take the shortcut home, or walk the long way and forget what she'd seen. She chose wrong. This episode is a slow-burn folk horror about bargains, forgotten roads, and the price of a shortcut. #JerichoBend #Crossroads #FolkHorror #Bonfire #Hall...

Luna remembers a story told to her by a park ranger named Sam, about a cardboard box found wedged under the Amos Creek Bridge one November morning. Inside was a shoebox full of letters, all addressed to a woman named Eleanor who had vanished from the town of Millbrook forty years ago. As Luna reads the letters aloud, she pieces together Eleanor's last autumn—her affair with a man who promised to m...

December 1989, Winterhaven, New Hampshire. Luna's father took a job repairing the antique clock in the town square's bell tower—a mechanism so old no one remembered its maker. He brought her along one frozen afternoon, and she watched him climb the spiral stairs with his leather tool bag. What he found in the clock room wasn't a broken gear. It was a name scratched into the bell's iron lip. A name...

In the autumn of 1987, Luna’s mother worked the night shift at Bergman’s Department Store in the sleepy town of Millbrook, New Hampshire. One October evening, a mysterious woman in a vintage 1950s cocktail dress appeared on the main floor after hours, drawn to a single display mannequin. The woman, Mrs. Evelyn Hart, claimed the dress had belonged to her mother, who vanished from the store in 1958....

October 31st, 1995. Luna pulls an old calendar door to reveal a brass key. The image behind it: a keyhole, dark, and a single eye looking back. She remembers the Holloway House at the end of Tulip Lane, where she spent one Halloween night as a teenager. A dare. A locked door. A whispered game called 'The Watching.' She never told anyone what she saw through the keyhole. But tonight, with the jack-...

October 1987. A state hospital slated for demolition. A single unopened door in the oldest wing. Luna's uncle worked the night shift at Serenity Pines Sanatorium during its final winter before closure. He never spoke about what he saw there, but one night he came home with the keys to the east wing and a story he couldn't keep locked inside. This is the story of that night: a patient who arrived w...

On a cold November night in 2009, Luna drove through the town of Stillwater, Ohio, and found a bridge that wasn't on any map. The crossing was old—iron and stone, lantern-lit at each end—and the man at the tollbooth wore a grey uniform from another era. He took her dollar and told her to listen. What she heard on the planks, what she saw in the water below, and what she carried away in the soles o...

Luna remembers a long drive down a winding dirt road in upstate New York, one November evening in 2017, when she stumbled on a farmhouse that seemed to be holding onto autumn long after it should have let go. The woman who lived there—gray-haired, barefoot, smelling of woodsmoke and apples—offered her tea and showed her a room full of clocks. Every clock was stopped at the same minute. Every windo...

On a cold November night in 2002, Luna stopped at a diner on the outskirts of Elmsford, Maine — a place called the Blue Moon that seemed to exist outside of time. The waitress knew her order before she spoke. The coffee was always full. But the man in the corner booth hadn't moved in hours, and the clock above the grill had been frozen at 3:14 since before she walked in. What Luna found that night...

A small town in Ohio, the autumn of 1998. Luna recalls a night she spent in the belfry of an abandoned church on Whistler's Lane, after a stranger's voicemail begged her to listen for a bell that hadn't rung in forty years. What she found was not a mechanism but something else—something that had been waiting in the dark, patient and hungry. This is a story about a sound that shouldn't exist, a pri...

October 2017, a dry autumn in the small town of Midden, Kansas. The pumpkin crop that year came in strange — pale, elongated, with faces pressed into the rinds from the inside. Luna's cousin Becca bought one from a roadside stand run by a man whose name no one could remember. She carved it on Halloween night. What she found inside changed how she saw the season forever. A quiet horror story about...

October 1987. A three-story motel outside Elko, Nevada, where the neon sign has been dark for fifteen years but a light still burns in room seven. Luna's great-aunt managed the Copper Creek Hotel in its final season—the autumn every guest checked in but never checked out. This is the story of what she found in the register, the woman in the yellow raincoat who arrived every night at 11:47, and the...

In the autumn of 2019, Luna visits the abandoned Thornwood Fairgrounds on the outskirts of Millbrook, Indiana, following a story about the carousel that disappeared overnight in 1987. The carousel's hand-carved horses were said to have been haunted by the children who died in a fire that gutted the ride's motor house. Luna finds the fairgrounds overgrown, the carousel gone—but in the dirt where it...

Halloween night, 1998. I was driving home from my parents' house on Denton Road, a winding two-lane cut through the woods outside of Millbrook, New York. The road was empty—no other cars, no porch lights, just the occasional carved pumpkin flickering from a distant farmhouse. I'd seen the same stretch a hundred times, but that night something felt off. A man stood on the shoulder near the old Dent...

October 1999. The Riverview Motel outside Cedar Falls, Iowa — a tired two-story strip of rooms with a neon sign that buzzes all night. Luna checked in late, rain soaking through her coat. The clerk was a girl named Darla who barely looked up from her magazine. Room 12 was fine. Clean enough. But the man in Room 14 — she heard him talking to the wall all night, and around 3 AM he started knocking o...

Luna recounts a night in October 2017 when she stayed at the Laramie Motor Lodge on Route 17 outside Crow's Landing, Ohio. The motel was half-empty, the neon sign buzzed, and the night clerk gave her a key to Room 18 with a strange look. What she found in the attic above the ceiling tiles — a room without doors, a chair bolted to the floor, and a woman's voice humming through the vents — was not m...

In the autumn of 2008, Luna spent a week house-sitting for her aunt in the tiny town of Gallows Ford, Massachusetts — a place known for its October foliage and its silence. The house at the end of Skinner Hollow Road had a cellar door that didn't quite latch, a grandfather clock that chimed at odd hours, and a history the neighbors wouldn't discuss. By night three, Luna started hearing a child's v...