We're back. Hello, gentle listener, how excruciatingly pleasant it is to have you back

within our sphere of influence once again.

Let's have a look at the newspaper and see what happy tidings 2021 brings.

Oh. Oh. Oh, I see.

Let's put that away again, shall we?

I am of the opinion that what is sorely needed right now are the pernicious services of nocturnal transmissions,

your dedicated distributor of distressing dramatizations,

describing the dire and dreadful such that we might deliver some distraction

to the demographic desirous of diversion from their dolefully depressing day to day.

Drogery.

Our first distraction for 2021 is a frightful fable of fiendish foliage from that wonderful wielder of weird tales. Clark Ashton Smith.

We would like to extend our thanks to the estate of Clark Ashton Smith for granting us permission to perform this classic tale.

We have endeavored to show it the respect

it so thoroughly deserves.

So I hope you will agree

that we are getting 2021 started in style as nocturnal transmissions proudly presents Clark Ashton Smith's The seed

from the Sepulca

Yes, I found the place, said Falma.

It's a queer sort of place.

Pretty much as the legends describe it.

He spat quickly into the fire,

as if the act of speech had been physically distasteful to him,

...