About the Show

For the hours nobody claims

There is a frequency that only comes in after midnight. Nobody scheduled it. Nobody owns the license. It’s just there, the way static is always there underneath a signal, waiting for the rest of the dial to go quiet enough to hear it.

That’s The Graveyard Slot. We don’t have a studio address or a call sign anyone can look up. What we have is a mailbag of stories — sent in by listeners who ask, every time, that we tell it plainly and let you believe it anyway — and a couple of hours, twice a week, when the rest of the world is either asleep or too tired to argue with what it hears.

We don’t dress the stories up. We don’t need to. A person telling you, in their own words, exactly what happened to them is already the most frightening format there is. Our job is just to get the tape rolling before they change their mind and hang up.

Keep your porch light on. Not because it helps. Because it's polite to whatever's watching.

The honest part

Here’s the part we won’t bury in fine print: every story on this show is original fiction, written by our team specifically for The Graveyard Slot. Nobody actually mailed us these accounts. The narration you hear is produced using AI voice technology — but every single episode is written, reviewed, and edited by a human being before it ever airs. Nothing goes out that a person hasn’t read, checked, and signed off on.

We’re telling you this plainly because we’d rather you trust the show for what it actually is than for what it pretends to be. The frame — the late-night station, the listener mailbag, the host who never gives a name — is part of the story we’re telling. The disclosure isn’t. It’s just true.