Showing results by author "Fexingo" in All Categories

Learn Cantonese with Fexingo — the easy way to learn Cantonese through warm stories, natural conversations, and slow news. A friendly Cantonese-learning podcast hosted by Lucas and Luna. Every episode is a short, digestible lesson built around real-world Cantonese you can use right away — perfect for absolute beginners who want to start speaking Cantonese with confidence. Expect: beginner Cantonese lessons, slow Cantonese stories, everyday Cantonese conversations, slow news in Cantonese, travel phrases, and tons of repetition so it sticks. New episodes added regularly. Follow Fexingo to ...

Learn Icelandic with Fexingo — the easy way to learn Icelandic through warm stories, natural conversations, and slow news. A friendly Icelandic-learning podcast hosted by Lucas and Luna. Every episode is a short, digestible lesson built around real-world Icelandic you can use right away — perfect for absolute beginners who want to start speaking Icelandic with confidence. Expect: beginner Icelandic lessons, slow Icelandic stories, everyday Icelandic conversations, slow news in Icelandic, travel phrases, and tons of repetition so it sticks. New episodes added regularly. Follow Fexingo to ...

Learn Czech with Fexingo — the easy way to learn Czech through warm stories, natural conversations, and slow news. A friendly Czech-learning podcast hosted by Lucas and Luna. Every episode is a short, digestible lesson built around real-world Czech you can use right away — perfect for absolute beginners who want to start speaking Czech with confidence. Expect: beginner Czech lessons, slow Czech stories, everyday Czech conversations, slow news in Czech, travel phrases, and tons of repetition so it sticks. New episodes added regularly. Follow Fexingo to keep learning Czech. #LearnCzech #...

In a building that should only have eleven floors, there is a button for twelve. Empty Floor Twelve is an anthology horror podcast where each episode is a self-contained story set in the same decaying Art Deco elevator — a machine that sometimes opens onto places that don't exist. Luna narrates tales of passengers who pressed the wrong button and found themselves in a floor of endless corridors, a floor where the walls breathe, or a floor that remembers every person who ever rode the elevator. The stories are slow and atmospheric, like the hum of old cables and the smell of brass polish. ...

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 ...

On the vast, unbroken plains of the American heartland, the horizon is a lie. Luna takes you to 'The Lonely Plains', an anthology of self-contained horror stories rooted in the isolation and ancient dread of the high prairie. Each episode is a standalone tale — a sod homesteader who hears his own name on the wind, a grain silo that hums a forgotten hymn, a fence line that walks itself at midnight. The unifying thread is place: the grass that hides old bones, the sky that watches too closely, the silence that waits for a scream. Luna's voice, low and intimate as lamplight, guides you through ...

Inside a lighthouse on a jagged coast, Luna takes up the keeper's logbook each night. The stories she writes are not her own — they are the confessions, warnings, and last words of those who have come before her. Each entry is a self-contained tale: a captain who hears his drowned crew singing in the fog, a lighthouse keeper whose isolation gives birth to a second self, a shipwreck survivor who discovers the island is not what it seems. The Fresnel lens casts rotating beams across the pages, illuminating horrors that prefer the dark. Here, the sea keeps its secrets, and the lighthouse is a ...

A single open file folder on damp carpet. Coffee gone cold. Ceiling tiles buzzing like trapped flies. In Between is an anthology of stories that take place in the spaces we try not to notice — the corridor between closing time and the last train, the pause between a knock and an answer, the hum of fluorescent light when you're the only one left in the building. Each episode is a self-contained tale of quiet dread: a night-shift security guard whose rounds reveal a floor that shouldn't exist, a temp worker who finds a locked drawer with her own name on it, a woman waiting for a bus that ...

On the cusp of winter solstice, when the last light drains from the sky and frost webs the windowpanes, Luna sits on a snowy porch and tells the stories that gather in the dark like a Yule tide. Each episode of Yule Wraith is a self-contained tale — a folk horror for the longest night, where ancient rituals stir beneath Christmas cheer, where the wassail cup holds something older than wine, and where a wreath of yew and holly might be the only charm against what creeps through the evergreens. From a solitary farmhouse that never appears on any map, to a bell that tolls without a ringer, to a...

A laptop hums in a dim home office. The external drive's red LED pulses like a heartbeat. Inside: thousands of unsorted folders, each a life. Luna opens them one by one — not to restore data, but to listen to what was buried. The Backup Drive is an anthology of digital excavation: corrupted JPEGs that still move, audio files that loop a single scream, spreadsheets that predict your death, and forgotten chat logs from a conversation that never ended. Each episode is a self-contained story of data that should have stayed lost — a found-footage horror for the age of external storage. Luna's ...

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 ...

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 ...

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 ...

Step into the amber glow of a forgotten speakeasy, where the clink of glasses masks whispers of the dead. In this anthology of self-contained stories, Luna draws you close beneath the dim gaslight of a Prohibition-era basement, each tale a fragment of a larger, unseen history: a pianist who plays only the requiem no one requested, a coupe glass that fills itself when the bar is empty, a chanteuse whose voice still clings to the walls long after her last song. These are the secrets that haunt the margins of the Roaring Twenties — not the bootleggers and flappers, but the something else that ...

In a dim nursery, a baby monitor crackles with static — and in the green-black haze, shapes move. Goodnight, Sweetheart is an anthology of stories about the things that watch from the dark. Luna whispers each tale from the rocking chair's edge, her voice the only warmth in a room where the curtains stir without wind. Here, a lullaby turns wrong, a forgotten crib holds secrets, and every nightlight casts shadows that breathe. No two stories are the same — a grieving father hears his daughter's voice in the static, a night nurse learns the pattern of the unseen, a child's toy remembers more ...

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 ...

The Greyhound is an anthology horror podcast where Luna drives a long-distance bus through the night, and every passenger carries a story that curdles the air. Each episode is a self-contained tale set on the move — a hitchhiker's confession, a child's whispered warning, a glimpse of something in the rearview mirror that shouldn't be there. The bus is a vessel for the lost, the guilty, and the otherworldly, rolling down highways that loop back on themselves. Luna's calm narration guides you through these slow-burn dreadscapes, where the only constant is the hum of the engine and the weight ...

Game Trail is an anthology horror podcast set in the deep woods of the American Northeast, where the quiet of snowfall masks something far less natural. Each episode follows a different person—hunter, hiker, logger, lost child—who steps off the marked path and into a territory where the rules of the world shift. These are stories of cold dread, of tracks that double back on themselves, of things that watch from the treeline and never blink. Luna guides you through these isolated encounters with a steady, low voice, like a campfire tale told by someone who has seen the woods at night and ...

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 ...

Luna sits behind the glass counter of a forgotten pawnshop, where every object holds a story — and every story holds a debt. In this anthology, she unpacks the histories of items left behind: a tarnished pocket-watch that counts down to something unspeakable, a vintage gun that has fired only once, a child's music box that plays a lullaby for the dead. Each episode is a self-contained tale of the people who traded their possessions — and sometimes their souls — for a few dollars. From a wedding ring that carries a curse to a photograph that changes with each viewer, the pawnshop's ...