Charlie Edmondson audiobook demo - The Scarlet Pimpernel



This is a read from The Scarlet Pimpernel that showcases one of my audio book narration styles.

Vocal Characteristics



Voice Age

Young Adult (18-35)


British (General)


Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Hello, My name's Charlie Edmondson, and this is my audiobook voice. Riel. The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Aussie Chapter one Paris, September 17 92. A surging, seizing, murmuring crowd of beings but a human only in name for the eye and ear they see note but savage creatures animated by vile passions and by the lust of vengeance and of hate. The Iowa. Some little time before sunset on the place, the West barricade at the very spot where, a decade later a proud tyrant, raised an undiagnosed monument to the nation's glory and his own vanity. During the greater part of the day, the guillotine had been kept busy at its ghastly work. All that Fronsac boasted off in the past centuries of ancient names and Bluebeard had paid, told to her desire for liberty and fraternity. The carnage had only seized at this late hour of the day because there were more interesting sites for the people to witness a little while before the final closing of the barricades for the night. And so the crowd rushed away from the plastic clever and made for the various barricades in orderto watch this interesting and amusing sight. It was to be seen every day for those aristos were such fools. They were traitors to the people, of course, all of them men, women and Children who happened to be descendants of the great men who since the Crusades had made the glory of France her old no bliss their ancestors had oppressed. The people had crushed them under the scarlet hills of their dainty buckled shoes. And now the people had become the rulers of France and crushed their former masters not beneath their ****, for they went shoelace mostly in these days. But beneath a more effectual wait, the knife of the guillotine and daily hourly the hideous instrument of torture claimed its many victims old men, young women, tiny Children even until the day when it would finally demand the head of a king and of a beautiful young queen. But this was as it should be. We're not the people now the rulers of France. Every aristocrat was a traitor as his ancestors had bean before him. For 200 years now, the people had sweated and toiled and starved to keep a lustful court and lavish extravagance. Now the descendants of those people who had helped to make those courts brilliant, had to hide for their lives to fly. If they wish to avoid the tardy vengeance of the people, and they did try to hide and tried to fly, that was just the fun of the whole thing. Every afternoon before the gates closed on the market, carts went out in procession by the various barricades. Some fool oven aristo endeavoured to evade the clutches of the Committee of Public Safety. In various disguises. Under various pretexts, they tried to slip through the barriers which were so well guarded by citizen soldiers of the republic. Men in women's clothes, women in male attire, Children disguised in beggar's rags. There were some of all sorts, seed of all counts. Marcus is even dukes who wanted to fly from Frantz, reach England or some other equally accursed country. And there try to rouse foreign feeling against the glorious revolution or to raise an army in order to liberate the wretched prisoners in the temple who had once called themselves sovereigns of Frantz