Audiobook Fiction Narration
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Teen (13-17)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
I help Nancy tie her bonnet under her chin and took Charlie's hand. Let's go to work as we passed the garden fence. Lizzie and Susie, we're collecting comfrey leaves. Remember not to touch your lips or noses, I said. The sticky hairs will seal them closed and you won't be able to breathe. We know, Lizzie said, and continued picking. To my relief, Big Jim and Adam were in the tobacco field, hard at work in the meadow, I squatted in front of a cluster bright yellow dandelions. See these? I spoke to Charlie and plucked one. Break them off and put them in the basket. Want me to pick these? Nancy pointed to sage leaves. I nodded. Just don't wipe your eyes. When I glanced back, Charlie had wandered into the woods behind me. He peeked from behind a large oak tree. Find. Stop that and come here. We can play hide and seek. Later, he slapped his leg with his hat and pushed his lips. As he approached, I turned back to pick dandelion leaves, but heard the crunching of leaves from his running feet. I sprang to my feet. Charlie, get back here! He disappeared inside thick brush before I reached the tree line. Come here at once or I'll take you back to Mama. I parted bushes and crawled on my knees under vines to watch for his legs. Finally, I stood to listen for leaves rustling or twigs breaking. When I made it to the creek trail, I found his hat. Come out, Charlie, you win. I can't find you. We have work to do now. As I waited for him to answer, my face grew hot. I gelled. Where are you? How did he get away so fast? He's not yet three. I stomped down the trail until I saw where he had trampled his way through some toll marshy grass. Can you hear me? I asked. A soft whimper. Proceeded. A cracking tree branch than a splash. Took my breath. I tour through the brambles toward the creek, praying God, no sharp sticks and rocks slashed my feet as I slogged through ankle deep mud to the bank. Why did I go back to picking dandelions instead of making him come? A rotted tree lay snapped into over a deep inlet that flowed into the creek. But no, Charlie, I maneuvered around thick brush and lifted my petticoat to my knees, waiting into the swift current. Several yards ahead, my breath caught at the sight of him trapped inside a tangle of tree roots on the opposite bank. I cried out. God, no! Help me and Swiss chard, Charlie! As fast as I could over sharp stones. This can't be happening. He thrashed the water trying to free himself, but slipped further under his head. Bobbed up and down as he fought the current six more yards. I screamed, Hold on, I'm coming! But as I rushed toward him, my foot slipped on an algae coated rock and I landed ******* my rear pain shot up my spine. I pushed up to my feet were being in peering Charlie. He wasn't moving anymore. His face lay forward in the water. I yelled, Charlie, raise your head! Breathe. Please don't be drowned.