Audio book narrration demo
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM) North American (US South) North American (US West Coast - California, Portland)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
brother Richard liked it loud. He punched the iPod up all the way until the music hammered his brain. It's forced, beating away like some band. She How From the high dark mountains hidden behind the screen of rushing trees He was holding 85 miles an hour even through the turns. So that took a surgeon's skill. Miracle of guts and timing And the music roared Cinnamon Where you gonna run to gonna run to the sea? See? Won't you hide me? Run to the sea, See? Won't you hide me But the see It was a boil it all On that day it was that old time religion fierce and haunted, harsh and unforgiving. It was baptised, fire and brimstone. His father's fury and anguish. It was Negroes in a church, a fear to the flames of ****. It was the roar of a hot primer gravy. Eight Cuda in the night is good. Old boys and sheeps raised their particular kind of l driven by white lightning or too much Dixie or too much hate. It was the South arising under the reds. Snapping of the flag of the Confederacy, he wrote. The corner perfectly left footing the brake and coming off it at the precise moment so that he came out of the hairpin at full power. It was late. It was dark. It was quiet except course for the thunder of the engine. His right foot involuntarily pressed Pendleton metal in the car leapt forward, reaching the century mark Now 1 10 now 1 20 right A death Sitch right near to and within spitting distance of oblivion And he loved it A crack in the window seal Sending a torrent of air to beat his hair Cinnamon We're gonna run to gonna run to the moon Won't you hide me running to the moon Moon Won't you hide me But the moon It was a bleeding all on that day The climb and then a sudden turn It was Iron Mountain And 4 21 slashed Crooked Lee of its angry hump He hit the brake, felt the car slide As he slipped to the shoulder He felt the grit is the still tires fought the gravel and ripped it free But the skin was controlled Never close toe loss And is the car slowed He downshifted to second, lurched ahead and caught the angle of the turn just right, peeling back across the asphalt, leaving the dust explosion far behind as he found the new perfect vector and powered onboard into the night. The date was Thursday, March 30th 1931. Charlie Crawford and editor slain, screamed the headline in the Los Angeles Illustrated Daily News at about 4:30 p.m. The previous afternoon, the 54 year old Crawford had been gunned down in his office on Sunset Boulevard. Also killed was Herbert Spencer, a veteran journalist who'd been with Crawford in the room. Ex Boss Falls Too Long Feared Gunman Bullet The news went on. Crawford King Vin politician lived until 8:32 p.m. Last night, a little more than four hours after the shooting. He died without revealing the identity of his assailant. Crawford had been, and many believe, still Waas a boss, a key player in what was known as the system. A little profile but all powerful syndicate that ran the gambling, prostitution and bootlegging rackets in Los Angeles. This was L. A's brand of gangsterism. Crawford used officers of the Los Angeles Police Department to collect the take from the underworld captains. He worked behind the scenes with Kent Cane Parrot, a fixer who'd had George Crier, the mayor of Los Angeles, from 1921 to 29 pretty much in his pocket. It was a discreet yet effective arrangement and had been in place since Crawford in parent contrive to get Cryer elected. As far as the rackets were concerned, L. A had been a closed town ever since. Locked down by Crawford and the system, it was the most lucrative, the most efficient and the best in trench graft operation in the country, News City editor Max Weinstock wrote later. Now somebody was monkeying with that operation tryingto destroy it perhaps more. Take it over eternities before the first born day or air the first son fledged his wings of flame. Calm night. You have a lasting in the same, a brooding mother over chaos and whirling sons up blaze and then decay shall run their fiery courses and then claim the even of the darkness. Once they came back to the nirvana, peace shall grope their way. So when my feeble son of life burns out and sounded is the hour from my long sleep, I shall full weary of the feverish light Welcome Darkness without fear or doubt and heavy lidded I shall softly creep into the quiet bosom night.
Tags
Characters, Guy Next Door, Narrator, Storyteller, Regular Joe, Amusing, Booming, Conversational, Engaging, Informative, Inspirational, Lyrical, Straightforward, Uplifting, Versatile, North American (General), North American (US General American - GenAM), North American (US South), North American (US West Coast - California, Portland)