Narration of audio book demo
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
British (England - South East - Oxford, Sussex) British (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
dark spruce forest frowned on either side of the frozen waterway. The trees have been stripped by a recent wind of their white, covering a frost on, they seemed to lean towards each other, black, an ominous in the fading light. A vast silence reigned over the land. The land itself was a desolation, lifeless without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness. There was a hint in it of laughter, but have a laughter more terrible than any sadness, a laughter that was mirthless a smile of the sphinx, a laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. It was the masterful on in communicable wisdom of eternity, laughing at the futility of life on the effort of life. It was the wild, the savage, frozen hearted Northland wild. But there was life abroad in the land and defiant down the frozen water. A toiled a string of wolfish docks they're personally for was rimmed with frost. Their breath froze in the air as it left their mouths, spouting forth in spew mes of paper that settled upon the hair of their bodies and formed into crystals of frost. They're the harness was on the dogs and leather. Tracy's attached them to a sled, which dragged along behind. The sled was without runners. It was made of stopped birch bark, and it's full surface rested on the snow, the front end that the sled was turned up like a scroll in order to force down and under the bore of soft snow that surged like a wave before it on the sled, securely lashed, was a long and narrow oblong box. There were other things on the sled, blankets and acts, and a coffee pot and frying pan. But prominent, occupying most of the space was the long and narrow oblong box in advance of the dogs on white snowshoes, toiled, a man at the rear of the sled told a second man on the sled. In the box lay 1/3 man whose toil was over, a man whom the wild conquered and beaten down until he would never move nor struggle again. It is not the way of the wild toe like movement. Life is an offence to it for life. His movement on the wild aims to destroy movement. It freezes the water to prevent it running to the sea. It drives the sap out of the trees till they are frozen to their mighty hearts. On most ferociously and terrible of all, does the wild Harry and crush into submission man man who is the most restless of life ever in revolt against the dictum that all movement must, in the end come to the cessation of movement. But at front and rear, a Nord and indomitable toiled to two men who were not yet dead. Their bodies were covered with fur and soft, tanned leather eyelashes and cheeks and lips were so coated with the crystals from their frozen breath that their faces were not discernible. This gave them the seeming of ghostly masks, undertakers in a spectral world at the funeral of some ghost. But under it'll, they were men, penetrating the land of desolation and mockery and silence. Puny adventurers bent on colossal adventure, pitting themselves against the might of a world as remote and alien is the pulse of the abysses of space. They travelled on without speech, saving their breath for the work of their bodies. On every side was the silence, pressing upon them with a tangible presence it affected their minds. Is the many atmospheres of deep water affect the body of the diver. It crushed them with the weight of unending vastness and unalterable decree. It crushed them into the remotest recesses of their own minds, pressing out of them like juices from the grape. All the force, archers and exultation tze and undo self values of the human soul until they perceive themselves finite and small specs and moats moving with weak cunning and little wisdom. Amidst the play and interplay off the great blind elements and forces on Our Went by and a second album, the pale light of the short, sunless day was beginning to fade when a faint cry arose and still air. It soared upward with a swift rush till it reached its top most note, where it persisted, PAL, patent and tents and then slowly died away. It might have been a lost soul. Whaling had it not. Bean invested with a certain sad fierceness and hungry eagerness. The front man turned his head until his eyes met the eyes of the man behind and then across the narrow oblong box, each nodded to the other. A second cry arose, piercing the silence with needle like shrillness. Both men located the sound. It was to the rear. Somewhere in the snow expanse. They had just her first, 1/3 and answering Cry rose, also to the rear and to the left of the second cry. They're after us, Bill, said the man at the front. His voice sounded horse and un riel, and he had spoken with apparent effort. Me is scarce, answered his comrade. I ain't seen a rabbit signed for days. Thereafter, They spoke no more, though their ears were keen for the hunting cries that continue to rise behind them. At the full of darkness, they swung the dogs into a cluster of spruce trees on the edge of the waterway and made a camp. The coffin at the site of the fire served for seat and table. The wolf dogs, clustered on the far side of the fire, smiled and bickered amongst themselves. But in Vince, no inclination to stray off into the darkness