Audiobook Reel
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General) North American (US South)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Chris Okawa, narrator A separate piece by John Knowles In the deep, tacit way in which feeling becomes stronger than thought, I had always felt that the Devon school came into existence the day I entered. It was vibrantly riel while I was a student there and then blinked out like a candle the day I left. Now here it was, after all, reserved by some considerate hand with varnish and wax preserved along with it like stale air in an unopened room was the well known fear, which had surrounded and filled those days. So much of it that I hadn't even known it was there because unfamiliar with the absence of fear and what that was like, I had not been able to identify its presence. Looking back now, across 15 years, I could see with great clarity the fear I had lived in, which must mean that in the interval I had succeeded in a very important undertaking. I must have made my escape from it where the red friend grows by Wilson roles. I had to have some dogs. I went to my father and had a talk with him. He scratched his head and thought it over. Well, Billy, he said. I heard that old man Hatfield's Carly's going toe have bumps. I'm sure I can get one of them for you. He may as well aboard cold water on May Papa, I said, I don't want an old collie dog. I want hounds, **** hounds and I want two of them. I could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to help me, but couldn't he said, Billy, those guns and dogs cost money, and that's something we don't have right now. Maybe someday, when we can afford it, you can have him. But not right now. The Indigo Thief By J. Budget A ringing sounded in my ears like bells between classes, My finger tips and toes tingled and blistered voices echoed around me. Whispering my name. I caught only fragments like wisps of smoke through fingers. Should have let him die too bold and too stupid. Need bold, stupid and brave worried about Tim. Can't tell him the truth. Or Hill like Bugsy, just like Bugsy. Damn, the poor kid wasn't ready. Well, dear, that's what we'll tell him, Then putting a damn iris scan on the next one the voices melded together in a symphony of sound. One ran into the next. All of them drowned beneath the ringing. He'll stay. That's final. We need a spark.