Hello, gentle listener. Now look, we're not officially back until February, but just to be nice, And because we did it last year

and you might be expecting us to do it again,

we're going to release a hitherto unavailable story

from our Patreon subscriber exclusive back catalogue.

A fun little morsel from one of the podcast's favorite authors.

Sarky.

We do hope this goes some way to helping you endure the excruciating wait until our triumphant return next month.

So, nocturnal transmissions is proud to present, courtesy of our beloved Patreon subscribers.

The Pond by Saki.

Mona had always regarded herself as cast for the tragic role. Her name, her large dark eyes, and the style of hairdressing that best suited her,

all contributed to support that outlook on life.

She habitually wore the air of one who has seen trouble, or at any

rate expects to do so very shortly, and was accustomed to speak of the angel of death,

almost as other people would speak of their chauffeur waiting around the corner to fetch them at the appointed moment.

Fortune tellers, noting this tendency in her disposition, invariably hinted at something in her fate which they would not care to speak about too explicitly.

You will marry the man of your choice,

but afterwards you will pass through strange fires.

A Bond Street, two Guinea palmmoyalist had told her,

Thank you, said Mona, for your plain speaking, but I have known it, always.

In marrying John Waddecomum, Mona had mated herself with a man who shared none of her intimacy with the shadowy tragedies of what she called the half-seen world. He had the substantial tragedies of his own world to bother about, without straining

his eyes for the elusive and dubious distractions belonging to a sphere that lay entirely beyond

his range of vision, or, for the matter of that, his range of interests. Potato blight, swine fever,

...