Things in the Attic — Fexingo Horror

In the summer of 2019, Luna's friend Sarah inherited her grandmother's house on Mulberry Lane. The attic was full of old trunks and boxes, but one thing stood out: a pressed-flower arrangement in a shadow box, dated 1928. Sarah's grandmother had never spoken of it. When Luna lifted the box, she noticed the flowers weren't pressed at all—they were still pliable, still fragrant, as if cut yesterday....

In the summer of 2009, Luna helps an elderly neighbor clear out her late brother's attic in the small town of Opelika, Alabama. There, tucked inside a hollowed-out book, she finds a postcard postmarked 1973 — addressed to a woman who never lived at that address, signed only with a single initial. What begins as a curiosity turns into an obsession as Luna traces the name on the postcard, only to di...

In the winter of 1998, Luna's aunt Vera inherited an old house on Mill Pond Road in upstate New York, a place no one had lived in for thirty years. Among the cobwebbed boxes in the attic, Luna found a single brass key on a rusted ring, tucked inside a folded handkerchief. The key was ornately carved, with numbers stamped into the bow: 7-12-1965. When she asked her aunt about it, Vera's face went p...

In the summer of 1998, a woman named Elara bought an old farmhouse on Whippoorwill Road, drawn by the overgrown garden and the rusted iron gate that swung open each night on its own. She thought it was a latch, the wind, a raccoon — but the pattern was too precise. Every night at exactly 2:17 a.m., the gate creaked open and waited. When she finally followed it into the woods behind the house, she...

Luna recalls a June night in 1997 on Springhouse Road, a gravel lane outside a town called Mercy, Kentucky. She was eighteen, housesitting for the Whitlock family while they flew to a funeral in Ohio. The attic was supposed to be off-limits—Mrs. Whitlock was firm about that. But Luna heard something shift above her bedroom ceiling at 2:14 AM, a sound like a drawer sliding open. She found a fire-sc...

In the attic of a crumbling farmhouse on Holloway Road, Luna finds a child's music box, its brass mechanism still wound tight. Inside, a tiny paper figure dances to a melody no one has heard in sixty years. But the box does not play alone — it waits, and it remembers. A story about inheritance, unresolved grief, and the things we choose to keep silent. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #ThingsInTheAtt...

Luna finds an old iron chain in her grandmother's attic, its links etched with dates spanning more than a century. A notebook hidden beneath the floorboards reveals that the chain was used to bind something in the basement of the old Pigeon Roost schoolhouse — a room that was sealed off in 1923 after seven children went missing in a single winter. As Luna traces the story through town records and...

October 1998, Prospect Street, Colton, Nebraska. Luna's great-aunt Elara leaves her a wooden crate in the attic of a house that has stood empty for forty years. Inside, a single photograph: a young woman in a white dress, standing in a field of Queen Anne's lace, a man beside her with his face scratched out. Luna learns the woman was her great-aunt's sister, who vanished the night before her weddi...

Luna finds a small rocking chair in the attic of a house on Holloway Road, outside the town of Meridian, Tennessee. The chair is child-sized, hand-carved, and warm to the touch despite the November chill. It belonged to a boy named Samuel who died in 1893. But when Luna sits in it, she doesn't feel the past — she feels something waiting. Something that has been rocking in that chair every night fo...

A forgotten wax cylinder found in a cardboard box in an attic in the summer of 1986. On it, a woman's voice humming a lullaby that Luna's grandmother used to sing. But the cylinder was recorded in 1901, and the woman on it calls Luna by name. Set on Jericho Road, just outside of Harlow, Ohio, one humid August night when the air was thick with the smell of cut grass and something else. What begins...

Luna returns to a house she visited years ago, where an old woman named Esther kept a dollhouse in the attic. The dollhouse was a perfect replica of the house itself, down to the smallest detail. But when Luna looks closer, she realizes the dollhouse has changed since her last visit—and so has the tiny family inside. A story about the weight of memory and the things we leave behind. #FexingoHorror...

October 1998, just outside Brownsville, Tennessee. Luna's great-aunt Edna passes and leaves behind a house no one in the family has visited in thirty years. Inside, among the dust and dead moths, Luna finds a wooden crank telephone mounted to the wall in the back bedroom. The line isn't connected to anything — but when she turns the crank, it rings. Someone answers on the other end. A story about...

In the attic of a foreclosed farmhouse on Mulberry Lane, Luna finds a taxidermy fox in a bell jar. The fox's glass eyes seem to follow her, and a scrap of paper inside the jar reads 'He saw what you did.' The previous owner, an elderly taxidermist named Ezra Thorne, disappeared six months ago. As Luna examines the fox, she notices the fur on its back is matted with something dark. The farmhouse's...

Out past the burnt-over hills, past the last gas station that still sells maps on yellowing paper, there is a stretch of Lost Creek Road that doesn't appear on any of them. I drove it one October evening, chasing a story about a mannequin in a window—a dress form, really, that someone had left behind when the house went to foreclosure. The house itself was unremarkable: split-level, vinyl siding,...

Luna recalls a moonless August night on the Oregon coast, when a friend's inheritance—a locked sea chest from a shipwrecked ancestor—pulled her into a quiet obsession. Through splintered wood and salt-stained pages, she found a logbook that didn't stop counting. The entries went on past the wreck, past the date of death, each one closer to the present. By the time she closed the lid, something had...

One winter night in 1987, Luna's father stopped at a gas station off Lonesome Hollow Road in Elk County and came home with a dented tin box he found in the men's room. Inside was a stack of letters, all addressed to a woman named Elara, all postmarked from a town that doesn't exist. Luna reads one letter aloud, and the words seem to cling to the air longer than they should. The story she tells is...

Luna remembers the summer of 2009, when her cousin Melanie disappeared for three days and came back talking about a dollhouse in the attic of the old Granger place on Kettle Creek Road. The dollhouse was a perfect replica of the Granger house itself, minus one detail. When Luna finally saw it, she understood why Melanie never went back inside. A story about architectural obsession, missing rooms,...

A woman named Elise inherits a modest farmhouse on Sycamore Lane, deep in the hills of eastern Kentucky, and finds in the attic a hand-mirror wrapped in yellowed linen. The mirror shows not her reflection, but a woman in a calico dress, standing behind her, closer each time she looks. Elise begins to see her in the corners of rooms, in the gap between curtain and wall, in the half-light before daw...

Luna climbs into the attic of her late grandmother’s farmhouse on Pigeon Roost Road, Tennessee, three weeks after the funeral. Among boxes of quilts and china she finds a brass oil lamp, still warm, that she swears she turned off the night before. Each morning it’s lit again, its flame burning steady and wrong—no oil, no wick, just light. The story of the lamp leads her to a photograph of her gran...

It was the summer of 2017, and I was staying with my aunt in a small town called Millbrook, New York, for reasons I still don't fully understand. I needed to get away, she needed company, and the house had a certain quiet that felt safe. But there was a trail behind her property that led to Kettle Creek Road, and about half a mile in, I found an overgrown path that wasn't on any map. At the end of...

One night in late October, Luna finds a weathered cardboard box in the attic of a house she's cleaning out on Weaver Road, a dead-end lane outside of Harlow, Oregon. Inside is a porcelain doll with cracked blue eyes and a note tucked into its dress: 'Take care of her. She misses the light.' The doll belonged to a girl named Miriam who vanished from that same house in 1972, and whose mother kept he...

In the autumn of 1997, Luna's high school music teacher gave her a walnut music stand with a peculiar engraving on the base — a set of initials and a date from 1923. For years, she kept it in her attic, never thinking much of it. But when she finally decided to research the name, she found a girl named Eleanor Voss who had vanished from the same small Oregon town in 1924. No one had ever found out...

It was late October 2019, just past midnight, when I pulled off Palmer Creek Road onto a gravel turnout I'd never noticed before. The house at the end of that lane had been empty for decades, but the attic light was on. I climbed in through a broken dormer window and found a child's room preserved under dust: a narrow bed, a nightstand, a small tin bird with a key in its back. The clock on the nig...

October 2023. Luna finds a pair of antique dressmaker's scissors in an attic on Mabel Street, a dead-end road in the small town of Gifford, Oregon. The blades are still sharp, the handles wrapped in faded red thread. They belonged to a woman named Vera who vanished from her home in 1957, leaving half-finished dresses on the mannequins and a single rocking chair still moving by the window. Luna lea...

A quiet road in coastal Oregon, winter rain, a jar on a shelf. Luna's cousin Sarah found it in the attic of her late grandmother's farmhouse—a bell jar, sealed with wax, holding something that should not have been preserved. The glass was cold. The thing inside was dry, folded, waiting. Sarah calls Luna two weeks after the funeral, her voice gone thin, asking what she should do with it. Luna drive...