The Naked Lady of Whispering Gulch

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Description

This is an audio sample from a short story by Crime Novelist of the Year O'Neil DeNoux of New Orleans, for whom I've narrated three works--a novel and two short stories. He did not want specifically New Orleans accents, but only reliable vocal variety for the various age and gender characters. His primary concern, however, was a narrator's ability to bring his words alive for his dedicated listeners.

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Vocal Characteristics

Language

English

Voice Age

Middle Aged (35-54)

Accents

North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)

Transcript

Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
she stood naked at the water's edge, stretched and then walked into the slow moving river. Whitman was sure everyone could hear his heartbeat. He heard it thundering in his ears. Perspiration worked its way down both sides of his face. Now, as the woman sank up to the neck in the brown water, a woman moves slowly in the water, her arms outstretched during their side of the river. She rose from the water tow waist level and pulled her hair away from her face, turned and and went back in. At this distance, Whitman couldn't be sure, but she looked like the picture. Karen Duncan. If he only had brought binoculars, he might even be able to see her appendectomy scar. No scar, no Karen Duncan. When he let out a deep breath, both men turned to him. Hey had realized he was holding his breath. Whitman hunkered down and watched the woman in the river twice. She climbed out on the far bank and face the sun, ran the water from her arms and legs before returning to the water. Bush was right. She waas beautiful. Whitman felt his pulse in his temples and his throat was parched darkness closed in quickly and Whitman's strain to see the woman. Something struck his back, and he instinctively brushed it away. Another strike in his back, and he turned in a huge drop. A rain hit him square in the face. The darkness wasn't sunset that great clouds that formed overhead and the rain slammed down on him in a great torrent, not unlike a semi tropical New Orleans ranged from the rain pelted them with large drops, raising clouds of dust into the air. Whitman looked back down to the woman, and she was out on the far bank, her face skyward, her mouth open, a sliver of sunlight cut through the clouds and illuminated the naked lady, making her glow momentarily all blond hair and white skin. She slipped back into the water and floated on her back. Then, as if a heavenly bucket had been dumped on them. A rush of rain came down a deluge, and Whitman tried to get up but slipped. He saw Butch and Young crawling away from the cliff. He tried to follow, slipped again and slid all the way over the cliff. The earth fell away from him, and he plummeted down. He felt himself strike the riverbank inside Mawr and felt himself sink into the water. He screamed and reach for air and felt himself twisting and turning and twisting again. He swallowed water and everything went black. Something flickered in front of Whitman. He opened his eyes slowly and saw it was a fire. Pulling himself up. He looked up with the black sky and at the outline of boulders beyond the fire he turned. It was right, and she was leaning against Boulder, a metal cup in her hand. She took a drink and said, Coffee's on the fire dress now, but long hair tied back and a ribbon. The firelight danced across her face, flickering long shadows on the rocks behind her. Quitman set up and felt the wetness, still in a shirt and trousers, is back ache and his arms were sore. He ran his hand over his chin and brushed dirt off. Where's my gun? His hand automatically patted his right side. His chipper DeRose were gone, too. What? The woman left. You're lucky you still got your blue jeans. Well, you should be dead. It hadn't ready like that around here in years. maybe never. If you hadn't fallen near me, you would have been dead. Her voice had an edge to it. You You pulled me out.