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EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
British (England - Cockney, Estuary, East End) British (Received Pronunciation - RP, BBC) North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Adam Gold. Moby **** by Herman Melville. Call me Ishmael some years ago. Never mind how long, precisely having little or no money in my purse and nothing particular to interest me on shore. I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world with a philosophical flourish. Kato throws himself upon a sword I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it. Almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean as I Mace by Mary Ann Jordan. The lone man stood at the top of the lighthouse, his muscular forearms leaning on the rail, his hands clasped together. His head was bowed, giving the appearance that he was a prayer, his dark hair whipped about in the wind, and as he lifted his gaze, staring out over the sea, his thoughts were as turbulent as the waves crashing against the rocks below. Mace love this time of day, as the sunrise rose over the water, casting the undulating sea in glimmers, large ships in the distance glided by, mixed with the local fisherman out for their early morning catch, Si goes called to each other before swooping into the water for their breakfast. Pulling himself up to his impressive height, he rolled his shoulders back, stretching out the king's with a last look at the water. He turned and walked inside the Dark Lord Bert by Chris Fox Chapter one Bert Smart Bert trudged up the steep ridge, swaying briefly as the wind caught his oversized pack. He wasn't very strong, and he wasn't very fast, but that was sort of expected when you were a goblin. But Burt had one advantage on advantage that he would use to outsmart the village elders on advantage he'd cultivated from the very weakness that caused the bigger goblins to laugh at him. He smiled wickedly and reveled in his own power. Bert smart but finally crested the ridge where a Titanic combat was about to play out. On one side stood an adult red dragon. It's scarlet scales gleaming under the early morning sunlight. On the other is to the adventuring party that bird had been following for the last three days. Why have you come here? The dragon roared, its deep voice echoing up the steep slopes. I bother no one. I present no threat to the elf loosed all three arrows, each winging off in a different direction like a bird. The dragon saw the projectiles coming and vaulted into the air with a mighty flap of its leathery wings. But the arrow simply adjusted course, and Bert winced sympathetically as the arrows thudded into the dragon's crotch in rapid succession. You on Eliska? Dude, it's a curse! The elf protested with an apologetic shrug. Arrows always go right for the crotch. Sorry, man. Logan by Julie Hall. Sure, Shana. Just give me a sec. I started my trek toward her. It was then that I realized she wasn't alone. Hey, Shannon, What's up? I've brought you a new trainee. Oh, yeah, as great. Where is he? Shannan gave the whispered, gentle shove forward, causing the girl to stumble a bit before writing herself. Here she is. Oh, heck no. From her tiny feet to her delicate, heart shaped face, this chick screamed damsel in distress. Not big, bad fighting machine. She plopped her hands on her hips and let out a breath. Okay, So will you at least tell me what exactly It is that we do time to rip off the Band Aid and see if Half Pint knew how to swim. Fight Game by John Mills. His heart hammered, has he opened the lid and gazed at the contents. Inside were multiple items, several stacks of cash, her passport, a yellowed stack of old newspaper clippings, a small tablet and a Glock 22 with a fully loaded magazine. He taught Dana how to fire a gun a long time ago, but you never mentioned buying a gun. Jack thumb through the old clippings, scanning the headlines. Many of them dated back over 20 years. All of them were about unsolved deaths. What were you looking into? He set them down and took out the tablet. He pressed the side button and it blinked. Life a few seconds, and it loaded a screen full of icons. There was one with his name on it. Jack tapped it, and a video expanded to full screen. It was Dana, and from the background she wasn't in Telluride. Deena's words replayed in its mind. They found me. Who were they and what was she doing in Santa Fe? Why had she lied to him? Eddie had been right. Trouble seemed to follow him like a plague. Greatest enemy by Jason Casper. I don't know if they're more impact, hurt your brain or if you just lost your ************* mind. But you've got one second to stop pointing that gun at me before I kill you. Where you stand, I shouted back. You said we'd only be outgunned as long as we were missing. The last person who told me that was Mats. I worked with him and boss and OFI. That's how I know who you are. The intense anger in his face melted away, yielding instead to unmistakable fear. They didn't call you Jase. They called you Caspian. A deathly silence filled the void between us. I didn't betray them. They were pushing it too far. David. Every mission was riskier than the last. And it was only a matter of time before they knew too much for the hand. Little let us retire. There was no other way. I took a quaking breath trying to calm the rage, threatening to consume me. And in exchange you betrayed your team. But he made you prove yourself, didn't he? He puts you on the ambush to see if you would do what he ordered. How did you do it at this? Jay said nothing. You don't have Survivor's guilt, Caspian. You're a ******* traitor. Mississippi Blues Tail by Colin Remus Brown I'm gonna tell you something that's certain to be a surprise. You'll be in a young pup one day down the road you're gonna wake up and find out something inevitable and terrible This happened You're just a damn own dirty dog. Oh, yeah, I'm going down Slow bark has lost its fright My teeth have lost their bite I'm a battle scarred flea bitten bag of bones Missing one eye on the tip of my tail In my younger days I used to jump and hop Now I'm too tired for Bach And biting and growling I just feel like howling And that's what I do I wake up under some old oak and I'm howling Even before I opened my one eye How about my old lake and bones My old teeth ground down So I How about the hunger in my belly? But mostly how Because it's the only thing left that feels good White Fang by Jack London Dark spruce forest frowned on either side of the frozen water way. The trees have been stripped by a recent wind of their white, covering the frost, and they seem to lean toward each other, black and 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, innit, of laughter. But if the laughter more terrible than any sadness, a laughter that was mirthless is that smile of the Sphinx laughter cold is the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. It was the masterful and in communicable wisdom of eternity, laughing at the futility and effort of life. It was the wild, the savage, frozen hearted Northland wild.