検索キーワード： 著者 "Fexingo" すべてのカテゴリー

In the hushed embalming-prep room of a small-town funeral home, Luna opens the leather-bound register and reads the names of the dead who came before. 'The Last Service' is an anthology series of self-contained stories, each beginning with a name entered into that old book—a life, a death, and the secret that lingers between them. Here, the deceased do not always rest. A widow insists her husband's corpse smiled at her. A mortician finds a note scrawled inside a sealed casket. A child's funeral draws mourners who never knew her, all wearing the same puzzled expression. Luna's voice, low and ...

Graveyard Rotation: Luna works the dead shift at a coastal security hub, monitoring a network of empty hallways, locked wards, and silent parking lots. But one camera feed keeps pulling her attention — a corridor in an abandoned hospital annex that shouldn't exist on any blueprint. In this anthology, each episode is a self-contained story drawn from the files pinned to the guard-room corkboard: transcripts of distorted 911 calls, lost maintenance logs, entries from a night watchman's diary that grows illegible toward the end. The stories share a geography — the forgotten edges of towns, ...

In the summer of 1979, Camp Eden was a place of firelight sing-alongs, canoe races, and whispered ghost stories. Then a counselor named Sarah disappeared, leaving behind a single letter under her pillow. The camp shut down overnight, and the letters kept arriving—mailed from Sarah herself, postmarked from towns that didn't exist, written in a hand that grew less human with each envelope. Now, decades later, Luna sits on a bare mattress in that same cabin, reading the recovered correspondence aloud. Each episode unfolds one letter, and each letter draws her—and you—deeper into the woods ...

Somewhere in the deep gray of the North Atlantic, where fog erases the line between sea and sky, there is a story for every fathom. Luna takes the wheel of a weathered fishing boat — the 'Mare Tenebrarum' — and navigates the whispered tales of those who vanish beneath the waves. In Ten Fathoms, each episode is a self-contained descent into maritime terror: a lighthouse keeper whose reflection grows more real than himself, a sonar operator who hears something singing back, a ghost ship crewed by the drowned and the longing. These are not jump-scare tales — they are slow, salt-crusted ...

In a time of pestilence and shadow, Luna dons the long cloak of a plague doctor and recounts tales from the margins of history — where the black death was not the only visitor. Each episode of this anthology is a self-contained story drawn from whispered accounts of apothecaries, graveyard shift priests, and those who tended the sick in cities sealed by quarantine. Here, the plague mask is not just protection; it is a doorway. Listen as Luna speaks of physicians who found their patients already dead — and still breathing, of locked wards where the air itself turned to rot and rage, of ...

The treeline marks the edge of the known world. In this anthology podcast, Luna takes you into the forest's threshold — where trails end, where the undergrowth thickens, where something waits just beyond the last pine. Each episode is a self-contained story about hikers, rangers, and wanderers who cross into the deep woods and find the old things that live there: root-woven traps, villages that don't appear on maps, a cabin with no door. From the Pacific Northwest to the Appalachian spine, these are tales of wrong turns and quiet horrors. Luna's voice draws you into the dusk-light, the snap ...

Under the sickly amber glow of a dying streetlight, something is always waiting to be uncovered. In Streetlight Burials, each episode is a self-contained story drawn from the cracks of a city that never sleeps — or forgets. Luna unearths tales of objects found beneath flickering lamps: a child's shoe with a name stitched inside, a bundle of letters sealed with wax, a rusted key that fits a lock no one remembers. These are not ghost stories in the traditional sense; they are quieter, rooted in the mundane turned sinister. A parking lot where shadows pool too thickly. A stretch of sidewalk ...

In the hollows of the Ozarks, a crumbling white clapboard meeting hall stands at the end of a gravel road. Luna steps up to the pulpit, dust motes spinning in the bare bulb light, and opens a hymnal whose pages are yellowed and warped, as if soaked through by something other than rain. Each episode of this anthology is a self-contained story drawn from the hymnal's entries — accounts of congregations that held too many closed-door sessions, of hymns that echoed through empty woods long after the last singer left. A deacon's wife who began speaking in languages that predate the church. A ...

Luna pours coffee at a 24-hour diner where the night shift never ends and the customers never quite leave. In 'Last Call at the Diner,' each episode is a standalone story served over the counter: a trucker who hasn't blinked in three states, a waitress who forgets her own reflection, a jukebox that plays songs from tomorrow. These are the quiet horrors that settle in the cracks of a vinyl booth, the kind that arrive with the 3 AM crowd and linger like cigarette smoke. Luna's voice is the only constant—low, unhurried, watching from behind the register as the ordinary turns hollow. There's no ...

In 'Heirloom,' Luna sits at her mother's old vanity and opens a velvet jewellery box. Each episode is a self-contained story inspired by a single object from that box — a locket with a stranger's portrait, a hairbrush tangled with gray strands, a cameo brooch with a hidden compartment. The stories travel through generations, unearthing secrets buried in cedar chests and attic trunks. From a wedding ring that refuses to abandon its previous owner to a christening gown stitched with a child's final breath, these are tales of inheritance and the debts we owe the dead. Luna's voice, low as ...

In the fluorescent hum of a 911 dispatch center, every call is a door to someone's worst moment. This anthology series follows Luna, a veteran operator, as she recounts the calls that never left her — the ones that defied procedure, logic, and sometimes reality. From a child reporting a monster that only appears when the line is open, to a stranded motorist whose GPS coordinates lead to a town that doesn't exist, each episode is a standalone story pulled from the archives of the emergency response network. The unifying thread: every tale begins with a ringing line and ends with a dial tone ...

Every Sunday, Luna sifts through the remains of strangers' lives at estate sales. In dusty living rooms and cluttered garages, she finds objects that refuse to stay silent — a child's music box that still plays a lullaby for someone long gone, a wedding photograph where the bride's face keeps changing, a set of encyclopedias with entries that rewrite history. In The Estate Sale, each episode is a self-contained story about the things we leave behind and the things that refuse to leave us. From porcelain dolls with teeth to vintage radios that pick up broadcasts from the dead, Luna unearths ...

Luna checks into a forgotten motel off a desert highway, where the Vacancy light flickers like a pulse. Behind the front desk, a guest register holds names that never check out — and a brass bell that rings on its own. In this serialized horror tale, each episode follows a new occupant of Room 9, a room that shifts its shape to match the deepest fear of whoever sleeps there. Luna narrates the slow unraveling of travelers, drifters, and those who thought they were just stopping for the night. The motel's TV plays static that whispers old secrets; the parking lot fills with cars that vanish by...

In a candlelit colonial room, Luna opens a leather-bound Bible stained with soot. Outside the window, a bonfire pierces the night — a pyre for the guilty, or the innocent. Burned at the Stake is an anthology of quiet, slow-burn horror set in early America and parallel worlds of paranoia and faith. Each self-contained episode follows a different soul caught between superstition and truth: a midwife accused of witchcraft, a farmer whose livestock speaks in tongues, a pastor who hears the forest praying back. Luna's voice, hushed and grave, draws you into these confessions — whispered across ...

On the edge of the world's largest mirror—a salt flat so white it blinds—there are shrines. Small, white-washed altars, some with offerings of dried flowers or handwritten notes, others dark and empty. Luna returns to this strange landscape each episode to open her leather journal and read a story tied to the salt. These are not ghost stories. They are records of the desperate, the devout, and the disappeared: a bride who walked into the salt and never returned, a geologist who found a crack that led not down but sideways, a sect of flagellants whose prayers left salt-encrusted wounds. The...

You unlock the door to your own home — but the key fits, the lights respond, and everything is just slightly wrong. In The Wrong House, Luna narrates standalone episodes of domestic dread: a woman finds a family photo album with her face in every picture but strangers as relatives; a man discovers his childhood bedroom now belongs to someone else's memories; a new parent realizes the nursery was built for a different baby. Each story unfolds in a familiar space — a kitchen, a hallway, a backyard — where the uncanny creeps through floorboards and settles in the wallpaper. Luna's low, ...

In a small apartment, a CRT monitor glows with a 404 error on a personal website that no longer exists. Luna leans close to the screen, each episode a different dead link — a message board thread about a town that vanished overnight, a cached page of a missing woman’s diary, an abandoned Geocities shrine to something that answered prayers. These are stories of the internet’s forgotten corners: the forums where users posted their last words, the webcams that still stream empty rooms, the archives that shouldn’t exist. Each tale is self-contained, a closed case file from the digital ...

Every Halloween, Luna sits at her kitchen table with an old advent-style calendar—31 small doors, each hiding a tiny image that grows more disturbing as the month unfolds. For each door she opens, she tells a self-contained story inspired by that day's symbol: a cracked bell tolling for a forgotten village, a black candle that refuses to burn out, a child's drawing of a door that shouldn't exist. These are not ghost tales in the usual sense—they are fables of seasonal dread, where autumn leaves hide hungry things, and the boundary between costume and skin blurs. From the creaking of a ...

Luna tightens her grip on the ice-axe and stares into the white emptiness. Above the Snowline is an anthology of high-altitude horror, where the thin air whispers secrets and the cold does more than freeze. Each episode is a self-contained story set in the world's most remote peaks — from the Himalaya to the Andes, from the Alps to the frozen ranges of Alaska. Luna guides you through tales of climbers who find things better left buried beneath the ice, of solitary mountaineers who hear voices in the wind, and of expeditions that vanish without a trace. The stories are slow-burn, atmospheric,...

Deep beneath a nameless mountain range, an endless network of limestone passages winds through the dark. Luna lowers herself into the void, her helmet lamp casting a thin cone of light on ancient flowstone and the silent bones of things that crawled here long ago. In 'The Cave System,' each episode is a self-contained descent into a different cavern—some formed by water and time, others shaped by older, hungrier forces. Here, the rock remembers. It whispers in the drip of condensation and the scrape of gear on calcite. Luna tells stories of explorers who found more than they sought: a ...