Tracks in the Snow — Fexingo Horror

Luna recounts a night in February 2023 on Hemlock Road outside the town of Cutter's Mill, Vermont, where she found a single envelope pinned to a pine tree with a deer antler. Inside was a handwritten letter addressed to no one, describing a presence that had been watching a house for weeks. By the time she reached the mailbox at the end of the drive, the tracks in the snow told her she was not the...

Luna recalls a winter night in 2017 on Old Quarry Road outside a town called Millbrook. Her friend Nora lived alone in a house at the dead end. The storm was bad, but the tracks weren't made by any animal. They led from the tree line straight to her door—and then kept going inside. What Luna found in the kitchen, and what Nora said the next morning, has stayed with her ever since. This episode is...

January 2017, just outside Elko, Nevada. Luna's cousin Marie buys a foreclosed ranch at the end of a dead-end road called Walker Pass. The snow there is wrong — it doesn't melt, and it leaves marks on the windows that look like handprints from the inside. Marie's dog starts sleeping in the crawlspace. A neighbor warns her that the previous owner, a man named Thorne, lost his family in a blizzard t...

January 2019 on Prineville Road, a gravel stretch winding through the rimrocks east of town. The snow was three days old and beginning to crust. That's when my neighbor Vern started finding his own footprints coming back toward the house — from the wrong direction. Each night, a fresh track appearing a little closer to the porch. Not an animal's. Not another person's. His sole pattern, his worn-do...

In the winter of 2019, on a dead-end gravel road outside Lost Creek, a woman named Ellen found a small wrapped package on her porch after a blizzard. No footprints leading to it, no return address, just her name in careful cursive. Inside was a single photograph—a picture of her own back door, taken from the tree line, dated the previous night. This is the story of what happened when she tried to...

One night in early December 2021, Luna drove the last five miles home on Old Denton Road, a narrow gravel lane that cuts through the wolf-willow flats east of Bent Creek, Wyoming. She was exhausted, and the snow was coming down hard, and she almost didn't see the woman walking barefoot along the shoulder in a thin cotton dress. But Luna did see her. And she pulled over. And she opened her passenge...

December 2017, Holbein Road outside Elko, Nevada. A woman named Miriam finds a single sentence from the Book of Job written in the snow on her porch. Each night it changes — a new verse, closer to the door. Luna retraces the week Miriam spent trying to memorize a book she had never opened, and the thing that kept writing until she had no choice but to answer. A quiet horror about faith, memory, an...

Luna remembers a winter evening on Taggart Road, where snow fell on the birthday of a girl who had been gone for seven years. A chocolate cake with pink frosting, a single candle burning in the window, and a knock that came not from the door but from inside the closet. The mother who still set a place at the table, the father who refused to speak her name, and the footprints that led from the crib...

Luna recalls a night in early December 2019, when her cousin's truck died on a back road outside Elwood, New York, and she walked two miles through fresh powder to reach an all-night diner called the Rusty Spoon. A waitress named Doreen poured her coffee and told her about the snow that had been falling on Depot Road for three days straight — snow that didn't drift, didn't melt, and carried the vo...

A February night on Cooper Mill Road, outside a town called Vestry. A woman named Ellen Wainwright drives home from her shift at the twenty-four-hour diner when she notices a figure standing in the field beside the road. It does not move. It does not blink. She drives past, but something follows. Not footsteps—a weight in the back seat that she cannot see, cannot touch, but feels settling into the...

In the deep January of 1987, on the gravel stretch of Nye Road outside Winder, Vermont, two inches of fresh snow held a single name spelled in cursive. Not carved. Not stamped. Written. The name was Clara, and when Luna drove past again at midnight, the letters had shifted. This is the story of a road that remembered a girl who vanished fifteen winters before, and the handwriting that grew more ur...

Luna returns to the town of Glenmire, Vermont, in February of 2022, after a string of disappearances along Hartley Creek Road. She meets a woman named Eleanor, whose husband went out to shovel snow one morning and never came back. The only clue: a single name written in the frost on their bathroom mirror -- not her husband's name, but Luna's. As Luna walks the road, she finds footprints that stop...

On a frozen December night in 2019, a woman named Vera stopped her car on Gifford Road, a gravel stretch outside Gifford, New York, when she saw a child standing alone in the snow. The child wore a thin coat and no shoes. When Vera got out to help, the child spoke in her sister's voice—her sister who had died twenty years before. What she found at the end of the tracks was a hollow in the snow, a...

It was a Tuesday night in late February, just outside the village of Lost Creek, and Luna had driven out to an old gravel turnout to photograph the stars over the frozen fields. What she found instead was a row of fence posts holding something that looked like snow but wasn't—not exactly. The stuff pulsed faintly when she touched it, and the farmhouse lights blinked in a pattern that she had to wr...

A quiet evening in March 2021 on a rural road outside Millbrook, New York. A single payphone rings at a dead-end junction where no payphone has stood in years. Luna stops to answer it. The voice on the other end knows her name, knows the date, and knows something that happened in that spot thirty years ago. What begins as a prank or a wrong number becomes something else entirely—a conversation acr...

In December 2022, on a dead-end stretch of Cold Creek Road outside the town of Jasper, New York, a woman named Elise Barron found a perfect circle drawn in the snow around her mailbox. No footprints led to it or away from it. The circle was about six feet across, the line as straight as if carved with a compass blade. Elise called her neighbor, who told her to stay inside and not look at it. But a...

On a frozen December night in 2018, Luna stopped at a roadside diner outside Elko, Nevada — the kind of place where the coffee is thin and the jukebox hums a song from 1973. A waitress named Darla told her about a stretch of Kettle Creek Road where, every winter, the snow would hold the shape of someone who wasn't there anymore. Luna drove out alone, past midnight, to see if it was true. What she...

On the night of January 15, 2024, Luna drove out to Lost Creek Bridge—a rusted single-lane span that crosses the frozen creek just south of Teller's Mill. She had heard reports of a figure standing motionless on the bridge at three in the morning, a figure that didn't move when headlights hit it. What she found was a man in a dusty coat, bare-handed despite the cold, who claimed he was waiting for...

Luna recalls a December night on Frost Hollow Road, a gravel stretch outside the town of Emberidge. She was driving home late when her headlights caught a figure at the edge of the trees—a woman in a blue coat, standing perfectly still in the falling snow. Luna stopped, rolled down her window, but the woman only pointed deeper into the woods, toward a faint orange glow. The next morning, Luna lear...

A snowshoe trail in the Monongahela National Forest, late February, 2020. Luna's friend Maya, a backcountry guide, led a group of six up Falcon Ridge—a route she'd run a hundred times. But this time, the snow was wrong. It had a crust that didn't break, a stillness that felt watched, and tracks that appeared behind them, not ahead. Then came the smell of smoke from a fire no one had lit, and a voi...

A game warden in the Gifford National Forest finds a set of human footprints crossing a snow-covered clearing. The prints begin and end nowhere, and the person who left them is standing just behind him when he turns around. This episode follows warden Tom Grady into the winter woods on the night of December 17, 2023, where he learns that some tracks are meant to be followed, and some are meant to...

December 2022. A rural bridge outside Wilford, Ohio, where the snow always melts first. Luna's uncle Caleb was a county road inspector who knew every frost heave and guardrail on the backroads. The week before Christmas, he found something on Cold Creek Bridge that made him call Luna at 3 a.m. — a single word written in the frost on the bridge's steel railing, letters two feet tall. He said the wo...

On Birchwood Lane, just outside Millbrook, the snow doesn't fall—it arrives. In December 2021, Luna's neighbor, old Mrs. Hendricks, began hearing her dead son's voice in the drifts. Not a ghost. Not a memory. The snow itself sang his name, note by note, until she followed it into the woods. Luna watched from her porch as the woman walked into the white, tracked by a melody that only grew louder. T...

On the coldest night of the year in the small town of Harveysville, a woman named Edie Taggart hears a knock at her front door. There are no footprints leading to it—only tracks leading away, from the porch into the empty field. Luna pieces together Edie's account of that night: the knock that came again, the shape she saw through the frosted window, and the call she made to the sheriff at 3 a.m....

Luna drives a back road near Gentry Lane, Vermont, one January night and finds a woman standing in the middle of the snow — no coat, no shoes, mouth moving like she's speaking but no sound comes out. The woman's name is Eliza. She says something about a voice in the snow, something that called her out of her house, something that's still there, waiting under the drifts. Luna follows the woman's tr...