Audiobook. Short stories. Parables
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
British (General) British (Received Pronunciation - RP, BBC)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
early one morning, an elderly monk by the name of January was sitting deep in meditation when he spotted something on the distant horizon. It was a solitary figure. Marching towards the monastery. The monk squinted his eyes, trying to focus on the growing figure As the figure marched closer and closer. It appeared to be a warrior of some sort. A samurai. Possibly. He had two long swords hanging low and armour that was flapping stiffly in the wind. This was a very long way for a samurai to travel. Interesting. The monk watched as the mysterious figure drew closer from what he could see. It appeared to be a ronin, a rogue samurai with no master. It was a very large, brutish looking man with a long stride and a scowl on his face that was visible even from this distance. A monk waited, come after some time, the warrior eventually arrived, stopping just a few feet in front of them, Monken kicking up dust, his hands resting on the butts of his weapons. Monk, he hissed. I have come to learn what you know about heaven and ****. Tell me everything. Jamyang did not reply. He waited until the ronin was about to speak again and said, I'll tell you nothing. You are a samurai with no master. You come uninvited. You failed to introduce yourself and demand knowledge that you have not earned the Romans face filled with anger, he opened his mouth to speak. Plus, John Yang said, You smell like 1000 rancid cows. No one has putrid as you deserves any knowledge, let alone knowledge of the sacred. At this, the warriors expression contorted with pain. And he cried out, pulling his swords from their scabbard and raising them above his head, readying himself to issue the death blow to this small, smug monk. Night is **** genuine, whispered ronin froze, the swords trembling in the desert air. Slowly, realisation dawned on him, his face beginning to drain of its colour. There could be no clearer explanation. This wise old monk had risked his life to show him through his own emotions. Exactly what **** was overcome with gratitude. He fell to his knees, tears welling in his eyes, John Yang said softly, and that is heaven