Yule Wraith — Fexingo Horror

In the small town of Millbrook, Vermont, Christmas Eve is marked by a tradition as old as the town itself: the lighting of the yew tree at Evergreen Cemetery. But this year, something is different. The tree, which has stood sentinel over the dead for centuries, is not just a symbol of remembrance—it's a conduit. Luna recounts her encounter with an old woman tending the grave of a child lost over a...

December 23rd, a car breaks down on Pendelton Road outside the tiny town of Millbrook. The woman who stops to help wears no coat, speaks in riddles, and keeps asking about a child Luna never had. The snow keeps falling. By the time help arrives, the road has changed. A story about longing, loss, and the things we mistake for mercy in the dark. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #YuleWraith #PendeltonRo...

December 2022, Birchwood Path, New Hampshire. A narrow gravel road that cuts through dense pine forest, three miles from the nearest town. Luna's car breaks down just after sunset, and she walks toward a solitary light she sees through the trees. The light belongs to a small house that shouldn't be there — the county survey maps show nothing but woods for another ten miles. The woman inside, elder...

December 1987, a few days before Christmas. A heavy snow has fallen on the town of Millbrook, and the power is out across most of the county. Luna's neighbor, old Mrs. Harlow, asks her to check on a light she sees flickering at the top of Windfall Ridge — a place where nothing has stood for thirty years. The ridge is a long, treeless spine of land where the wind never stops, and where a farmhouse...

December 1997. A small Christmas tree farm called Mistletoe Hollow, off a winding road in upstate New York. Luna's family has been buying their tree there for years, but this time something is different. The owner, old Mr. Kettering, seems anxious, almost apologetic. He warns Luna and her father to stay out of the back field, past the last row of firs. That night, Luna walks the field alone and fi...

Christmas Eve, 2019. A woman named Clara buys a single snow globe from a dusty antique shop on Maple Avenue in the town of Millbrook, New York — population twelve thousand, deep in the Hudson Valley. The snow globe is old, heavy, its glass cold to the touch. Inside: a tiny white farmhouse, a single bare tree, and snow that falls without shaking. Clara sets it on her nightstand. By midnight, the sn...

December 1997, Hemlock Creek, New York. A red mitten appears on the railing of a covered bridge every night after dark. Luna's friend Delia takes it home, and the house begins to remember things nobody spoke of. A story about what it means to hold something that was never meant to be taken, and the difference between giving and taking back. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #YuleWraith #HemlockCreek #...

Luna recalls a December night in 2017 when a woman named Margie Chenoweth called the station to report a string of lights that kept changing color on a rural stretch of Creighton Road, just outside of Millbrook. Margie was a retired schoolteacher, not prone to flights of fancy, but she had counted nineteen distinct patterns in half an hour — colors no one in town could name, arranged in sequences...

On Christmas Eve 1972, a church group caroling along the frozen coast of Thornwood Shores—a mile of jagged rocks and salt-swept pines—gets trapped by an incoming tide. One of them, a girl named Alice, vanishes inside a sea cave. Twenty years later, Luna's aunt sends her a letter from the same town, asking her to come see what washes up after each winter storm. This is the story of that night, and...

Luna recalls a Christmas Eve three years ago, when she took a wrong turn on Oakwood Lane in the town of Millbrook and found a farmhouse with a single porch light burning. The woman who answered the door—Elena, silver-haired and hollow-eyed—invited her in for hot cider. But the house was wrong: the grandfather clock chimed twice in a single hour, the Christmas tree had no ornaments, and the photogr...

On Christmas Eve in the small town of Holbrook, New York, Luna remembers the year her neighbor Maud gave her a gift that was never meant to be given. Maud lived alone in the farmhouse at the end of Orchard Road, and every year she brought Luna a jar of honey and a single apple wrapped in brown paper. But the year the apple came with a note, Luna made the mistake of opening the cellar door. Set in...

December of 2003, on a back road outside Millbrook, New York, Luna stopped at a farm stand that only appeared after dark. The girl behind the table sold wreaths made of juniper and dried hydrangea, each with a handwritten tag naming someone who had died that year. Luna bought one for a stranger—a boy named Eli she'd never met—because the girl's voice sounded like she already knew what would happen...

Christmas Eve, 1998. Luna drives the back roads of Millbrook, Vermont, past the old Frost Hollow Church — a white clapboard building boarded up since the 1950s. But tonight, a single candle burns in the bell tower window. She pulls over, drawn by a pull she cannot name. Inside, the pews are dust-sheeted, the air thick with cold and something else — a presence waiting. A woman in a dark coat sits i...

Christmas Eve, 1989. Luna's mother sends her to Sutter's Crossing, a tiny Mississippi Delta town, to deliver a fruitcake to an aunt she barely knows. Snow falls on cotton fields, and the highway ends at a dirt road lined with cypress trees. The aunt's house is a whitewashed shotgun with a kerosene lamp in the window and the smell of boiled peanuts. But in the backyard, past the pecan grove, stands...

Luna remembers a December night in 2012, driving past Harmony Hill, a forgotten stretch of two-lane blacktop outside Halverton, Ohio. The story of a man named Caleb Mercer, who saw something in the snow that made him stop his truck. A lantern swinging from a branch. A woman in an old-fashioned coat. The thing she said to him, and the promise she made him keep. Luna tells it plain and quiet, the wa...

Christmas Eve, 1987. Luna's aunt sends her to deliver a yew-and-holly wreath to a reclusive neighbor on Gray Forks Road—a gravel lane that dead-ends at the marsh. The old man, Mr. Harlow, hasn't spoken to anyone in years, but his porch light is always on. When Luna gets there, the wreath she carries begins to feel wrong: the berries too dark, the needles too sharp against her palm. She knocks. The...

A small-town Christmas tradition turns sinister when Luna visits the old Ramsey house on Willow Lane in Tilden, Vermont, one December dusk. The story of a brass bell tied to the porch railing, its silent clapper, and the woman who waited inside year after year for a knock that never came. Luna pieces together fragments from a diary and a neighbor's hushed testimony, but the last page is blank, the...