Hello, gentle listener, and welcome to nocturnal transmissions, short stories and

mutterings from the wrong side of midnight.

Episode 12.

What better way to celebrate rounding out the dozen than with a story about an egg.

Nocturnal transmissions is proud to present Stephen Williams's.

An Egg of Stone and Steel.

Prince Art had been exploring his family's palace ever since his little legs learned to navigate staircases.

From the canopies of stained glass to the oceans of marble, there was always something new to discover in the castle. He'd toddle

from spire to spire and then returned to his bedroom to scribble his progress on one of the original

blueprints tacked to the wall. At the age of eight, two-thirds of the

plan remained uncharted. He had quite the quest ahead of him. One destination that sparked

his interest was a spacious courtyard deep in the palace guts, but after following the twisting

hallways, he found the only entrance sealed with a dozen

rusted locks. Standing on his tiptoes and squinting through the door's peephole, he was

able to make out a small castle, surrounded by dead grass. What a funny place he thought. He'd have to talk to his mother about it. That night,

after he'd brushed his teeth and crawled into bed, he asked the queen about the mysterious ruin.

I suppose you could use a bedtime story, she sighed. But it is a bit scary. Do you think you can

handle it?

Prince Art was always up for a challenge. Besides, the scary ones were his favorites. The boy

cocooned himself in blankets, and the queen began. Not that long ago there was a king, she said.

He was kind and loved throughout the land.

But this love had also made him naive and prideful.

...