Audiobook - Dune - Characters - Sci-Fi - Fantasy - Prince - Storyteller - Narrator - Spooky - Raspy - Hero - Drama - Creepy - Fear
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Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
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curiosity reduced Paul's fear to a manageable level. He heard truth in the old woman's voice, no denying it. If his mother stood guard out there, if this were truly a test and whatever it WAAS he knew himself, caught in it, trapped by that hand at his neck the ******* Jabbar. He recalled the response from the litany against fear as his mother had taught him out of the Bene Gesserit, Right? I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path where the fear has gone. There will be nothing. Only I will remain. He felt his Communist return said Get on with an old woman, old woman, she snapped. You've courage and that can't be denied. Well, we shall see Sierra. She been close, lowering her voice almost to a whisper. You will feel pain in this hand within the box pain but withdraw the hand and I'll touch your neck with my gum. Jabbar. The death so swift. It's like the fall of the head. Zeman's acts withdraw your hand in the game. Jabbar takes. You understand what's in the box pain. He felt increased tingling in his hand, pressed his lips tightly together. How could this be a test? He wondered. The tingling became an itch, the old woman said. You've heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap. There's an animal kind of trick. Ah, human would remain in the trap. Endure the pain, Feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind. The H became the faintest burning. Why are you doing this? He demanded to determine if you're human. Be silent. Paul clenched his left hand into a fist as the burning sensation increased. In the other hand, it mounted slowly, heat upon heat upon heat upon heat, he felt the fingernails of his free hand, biting the palm. He tried to flex the fingers of the burning hand, but he couldn't move them. It burns, he whispered. Silence. Pain throbbed up his arm. Sweat stood out on his forehead. Every fiber cried out to withdraw the hand from that burning pit. But the ******* Jabbar without turning his head. He tried to move his eyes to see that terrible needle poised beside his neck. He sensed that he was breathing in gasps, tried to slow his breaths and couldn't pain. His world emptied of everything except that hand immersed in agony, the ancient face inches away, staring at him. His lips were so dry he had difficulty separating them. The burning, the burning. He thought he could feel skin curling black on that agonized hand, the flesh crisping and dropping away until Onley charred bones remain. It stopped as though switch had been turned off. The pain stopped. Paul felt his right arm trembling, felt sweat bathing his body. Enough. The old woman murdered. Cole was hard. No woman child ever whist erred that much. I must have wanted you to fear. She leaned back, withdrawing the gum Jabbar from the side of his neck. Take your hand from the box, young, human and look at it. He fought down an aching shiver, stared at the lightless void where his hands seemed to remain of its own volition. Memory of pain inhibited every movement. Reason told him he would withdraw blackened stump from that box. Do it, she snapped. He jerked his hand from the box, stared at it, astonished. Not a mark, no sign of agony. On the flash, he held up the hand, turned it, flexed the fingers.