The Lonely Chapter — Fexingo Horror

In a rain-streaked room, by the light of a single oil lamp, Luna sits at her writing desk. The unfinished manuscript before her seems to write itself — each page curling with ink that tells stories she never planned to tell. The Lonely Chapter is an anthology of quiet, intimate horrors: the forgotten footnote in a library book that rewrites history, the last letter from a lighthouse keeper who vanished mid-sentence, the photograph that ages backward each time it's viewed. These are tales of solitude, of things found in the margins, of silences that speak louder than screams. Every episode stands alone, but all share the same register: a candlelit dread, the feeling of being watched from a dark corner of an empty room. Luna's voice is the only constant — a confidante, a witness, a keeper of secrets. The stories are slow, atmospheric, grounded in the ordinary until the ordinary turns inside out. There is no escape, only the slow unraveling of certainty. The pen has stopped. The page wait