The Hand at Yule Hollow

A short drive east of Millbrook, just past the old quarry turnoff, there's a stretch of road called Yule Hollow Lane. It doesn't appear on most maps, and the county stopped maintaining it sometime in the seventies. But every Christmas Eve, for the past eleven years, June Harwick has driven that lane at dusk. She brings a thermos of spiced tea and an old wool blanket, and she sits at the dead end where the hollow opens into a circle of bare oaks. She told me she doesn't know why she goes. She told me she doesn't want to know. But she also told me about the hand. The one that pressed against the inside of her windshield on the first night she ever went there. The one that left no mark, no smear, no frost — just the shape of five fingers, palm flat, as if someone on the other side of the glass was trying to reach through. She hasn't told anyone else. She only told me because I asked, because I'd seen something similar once. And because the hand came back last night, and this time it didn't press from the outside. It pressed from inside the car. Luna reads June's account by candlelight on a snowy porch, the bell at the door stirring in a wind that smells of pine and something older. #FexingoHorror #HorrorPodcast #YuleWraith #YuleHollowLane #JuneHarwick #TheHand #ChristmasEve #Millbrook #DeerHunterRidge #FordPinto1972 #FrostPatterns #SisterMarianne #StAgnesHome #PalmPrint #NoExit #TracksInSnow #LunaReads #Candlelight Keep every episode free: buymeacoffee.com/fexingo