Audiobook narration sample
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
tic Tac. The audiobook narrator droned on through the long here, but in my ear, but I couldn't follow a single word is my heart pounded in my chest. I checked the ticking clock on the wall again, anxious for what was to come, and caught the unimpressed stare of the blonde sitting across from me. The ticket in my hand was wet from my sweaty palms and I kept glancing down at, unless I should forget. The number had repeated in my head a minimum of 20,000 times since my arrival. They were calling my number when it was my turn. They told me that was all I knew. I had no idea where it was, no idea why I was qualified to come there. The others waiting seemed much less nervous and much more qualified than I was. The room where we sat was gray and white, with windows that ran from florida sale and given an impressive view of the Manhattan skyline. The people, they were impressive too. The woman who sat directly across from me was long legged and beautiful. Her hair cut short, sword rested below her chin, the ends flipped under just enough that it seemed natural. She looked at me a few times, her starling gray eyes drilling into me as if she too knew I didn't belong. She was one of the many, much prettier, much more qualified than I was. She watched me as if I were a puzzle piece that was shoved too tightly in a place that would never fit Number 16. I jerked my head at the sound of my number being called, half convinced I'd imagined it, then looked toward the door of one of the offices as it opened and an african american woman popped her head out Each time the doors opened so far. eight times that I've seen. They've been someone different greeting us. I wonder how many people are crammed into the tiny office. I stood and shove the ticket into my pocket as the candidate I was replacing in the interview room walked past me. She was likely a few years older than me, with wispy copper hair and light freckles. Despite the craze worry, I felt her face appeared calm, confident. I wish I had an ounce of her piece turning my attention to my next task. I smiled at the woman waiting for me. She was around my height, her black hair pulled back in a bun. She was beautiful like the rest of the room of candidates, but her beauty was more intimidating than theirs. She'd already gotten the job. She wasn't my competition, she was my judge.