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Cold Wake is a maritime horror anthology where each episode is a self-contained voyage into the black Atlantic. Luna stands on the deck of a North Atlantic trawler, the sodium light casting long shadows as she tells stories of fishermen who haul up things that should never be caught — sentient knots of net, voices from the deep that answer questions no one asked, and wrecks that refuse to stay on the seafloor. The register is salt-crusted and whispered: the slow creak of a hull, the distant foghorn, the shock of cold water on skin. These are tales of isolation, of men who have seen too much darkness beyond the horizon, of creatures that wear the shape of scavenged souls. Every episode is a standalone story, but all are bound by the same icy ocean and Luna's steady, intimate narration — as if she's beside you in the dark, pointing a trembling finger at something just out of sight. There is no rescue here, only the tide pulling you under.
Unknown Host hosts Cold Wake — Fexingo Horror.
Winter 1982. A rural Alabama crossroads called Bitterweed Cut. Luna's uncle worked the night maintenance shift at a cotton gin that had been shut down for years. One December night, he found the main gearbox still warm a
On a frozen November night in 1991, Luna's father brought home a woman he found walking the beach at Deadman's Reach, a mile-long stretch of shale and frozen kelp north of Port Clyde, Maine. She was barefoot, dressed in
One night in October 2022, I met a woman on the deck of a trawler in Port Clyde, Maine. She was not a fisherman, not a tourist, not anyone with a reason to be there. She told me about the light she saw from the breakwate
Off the coast of St. Elmo, Maine, in the late autumn of 2019, Luna's uncle brought aboard a woman found clinging to a buoy line in calm seas. She wore no survival suit, no life jacket, but her palms were raw and her eyes
October 1987, Cape Disappointment, Washington. Luna tells the story of Evan Maddox, the last keeper of the North Head Light before the Coast Guard automated it. His final night on duty should have been routine—polish the
Luna remembers a night in October 2017 on the dock of Whitemouth, Newfoundland, where she met an old fisherman named Enoch who spent every evening watching a single light on the far shore—not a house, not a buoy, but som
On a fog-choked November night off the coast of Cuttyhunk, Massachusetts, Luna met a man who pulled something from the water that wasn't a fish. His name was Ellis Croft, a third-generation fisherman who had been hauling
In January of 2018, off the coast of Rockland, Maine, a solo lobsterman named Cal pulled a net that shouldn't have been there. It was old, rust-stained, and marked with a license number that had been struck from the regi
Luna recounts a winter night in the schooner town of Eastport, Maine, where a retired lobsterman named Elias Bowen began hearing a bell that didn't exist. Not the harbor buoy, not the church steeple — a single, clear not
On a January night in Waterville, Maine, a retired fisherman named Ellis Coombs began bringing things up from the harbor floor that should not have been there. Luna tells the story of the man who found a sealed glass jar
Luna recounts a night off the coast of Cutler, Maine, in November of 2009, when a retired lobsterman named Ezra Vane kept her company on the deck of the trawler. He told her about the sound he'd been hearing for thirty y
Luna tells the story of a night in November 2003, when the trawler 'Evening Star' drifted dead in the water off the coast of Nantucket. The seas were glass-calm, the moon hidden behind a bank of cloud, and the only sound
Luna recounts a grim discovery aboard the trawler Mary Ellen one December night off the coast of Gray Harbor. The crew's youngest hand, Danny, was found tangled in the net — but his body was warm, his lungs full of fresh
November 2022, on a night when the herring run stalled and the deck of the trawler went dead quiet, Luna watched a man in a yellow slicker row out past the breakwater—not toward any boat, but toward the reflection of the
Luna recalls a winter spent in a coastal Maine town called Driftwood, where the nights are so long the sun barely clears the horizon by noon. She met a retired lighthouse keeper named Silas March who spent his final year
Out past the breakwater at Half-Moon Cove, there's a stretch of beach where the tide doesn't behave. The locals call it the Counting Ground, but no one visits after dark. Luna remembers a man named Elias who sat there ev
On a moonless November night in 1999, Luna's uncle Ray—a quiet, weathered fisherman out of Portsmouth, New Hampshire—brought something strange aboard his trawler, the 'Sally Ann.' For six hours, he hauled the same fish,
Off the coast of Maine, a narrow gravel road ends at Half-Moon Cove — a sliver of black stone beach where the tide runs fast and the water tastes like iron. Luna spent a summer there crewing on a lobster boat out of Jone
On a frozen November night in 1987, a maintenance crew at the abandoned Larkspur Mine in central Pennsylvania hears a bell ringing from deep underground—a warning bell that hasn't been rung in forty years, since the day
In the winter of 2019, Luna's uncle Billy took a week-long solo ice-fishing trip on Lake Memphremagog, near the Vermont-Quebec border. He was a practical man, a retired lineman who knew the lake like the back of his hand
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Cold Wake — Fexingo Horror is hosted by Unknown Host. The show is categorised under Fiction and has published 0 episodes.
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