Hello, gentle listener, and welcome to nocturnal transmissions.

The fortnightly podcast that brings you dark tales, both old and new, performed by voice artist, Kristen Holland.

It is an extraordinary world we inhabit, is it not, gentle listener?

The sights, sounds and flavors of life we are permitted to glimpse through our

humble human faculties range from the exquisitely pleasurable to the excruciatingly awful.

Our five little windows on the world are quite sufficient to transport us through an immense breadth of experience. But is there more? Is this reality we witness

Nearly the tip of a great iceberg

Whose unholy dimensions would unseat our reason

If we could but glimpse beneath the surface

And behold its awful truth

Are we but hapless stones behold its awful truth.

Are we but hapless stones skipping across the glassy mirror of a black, unknowable lock?

Were Backman Turner overdrive right when they claimed that we had not seen nothing yet.

Let's put aside the rhetorical questions, gentle listener, and brave an answer from that familiar revealer of unwelcome insight, H.P. Lovecraft, as he pulls back

the curtains in, from beyond. Horrible. Horrible beyond. The

Horrible beyond conception was the change which had taken place in my best friend Crawford Tillingast.

I had not seen him since that day two months and a half before when he told me toward what goal

his physical and metaphysical researchers were leading, when he had answered my ord and

almost frightened the remonstrances by driving me from his laboratory

and his house in a burst of fanatical rage.

I had known that he now remained mostly shut in the attic laboratory with that accursed

electrical machine, eating little and excluding even the servants. But I had not thought that a brief period

...