Hello, gentle listener, and welcome to Nocturnal Transmissions, the fortnightly podcast that brings you dark tales, both old and new performed by your humble narrator

Kristen Holland it's a spanking brand new year and we're back to darken your door

once again so let's get the weirdness back underway, shall we?

For the first time in the year 2025, nocturnal transmissions is proud to present.

The Caravan by Mark Humphreys.

The Caravan by Mark Humphreys 2.25

The thief flinched as the gold rings clinked together, chubby fingers entwined and rested on the

paunch like royal slugs on a hilltop.

Through a swollen eye, he watched the shell-suited man on the other side of the desk

and braced for his punishment.

The floor vibrated beneath his feet as the jukebox in the man's pub punched out another track,

but he didn't notice.

Blood dripped from his chin and spatted his t-shirt, marking the seconds. He waited for his

sentence. Do you know who I am, boy?

The thief hesitated, tell the truth or lie.

He opted for the former and nodded.

Billy, the biz, Sands leaned back on his office chair.

It creaked but didn't buckle.

He jiggled his slugs, the gold chunks scraped

together. He looked at the ceiling and exhaled. The boy had heard about this ritual. The Bissas ring

dance and Sky would sigh before. Sentencing.

It had done the rounds in all the market towns.

...