Reciting a small part of an Original Short Story
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
Filipino (Tagalog) New ZealandTranscript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
springer by David Cinzano. Chapter One. Well worn. Must we confine whatever thoughts I could give you in this room. The skin tone fences barred morning shades of cream whipped pinks residing in the sky, the world appeared upside down for a moment. The sky caressed the blending of cotton candy clouds and see reflecting sky overhead. What could be the pros of our episodic lives? I looked up to see the ceiling again, flourishing its pores. The blemish popcorns bowl of calico corn. Just sit on my lap right. I had slept later than bargained. She'd call me up later and I'd be sluggish. And then I remember that slight chance to elope disappeared because of distance and detachment. I could obsess over this bobbing feeling of disdain and hope. Then I'd laugh to myself that I am to clean up no residue of popcorn dust or the chips from crunches spanning the bed, nor the carpeted floor. I commanded myself. I've spent all of myself eclipse chances at progressing with my week by being a lazy here in. I glazed my eyes at the fettered tube clock. It was a dozen minutes before noon. I am a sloth. It's too early for errands. Too early to leave for the king sheepskin sleeve over my eyes. The weight of arm rested against the valley of my nose bridge, oddly enough, I am the only person at this time and place who waits for the connecting blimp to hover before me and nestor gets the canopies landing. If I could say that my prose was the solitude found in my lonesome travels, I'd be a boring read. If I were to fill the void and a lackluster motive with various story modes, I'd find myself lying to you. So I sit here on this awful *** aching bench waiting for supernatural powers to take hold of me as I breathe in the cloud vapors. Ascii Heat wreaked heavily around me. The tickets were raised as proud as he approached me to say that the blimp is ready for pests and jurors and he tightened his white micro leather gloves ready to take my luggage. I gestured with my thumb pressing against my chest that I'll take my own luggage. He smirked and closed his eyes to appear somewhat pleased. I could tell you act, his pride hurt. He had already accepted that this is what enabled him to live be. I could respect that, but I stated it's a carry on That. I doubted he'd get much done with this. one lonesome passenger. Yet today was an actual episode. People lined up behind me. Apparently this was a connecting node to another due to how frequent and vacant this route was. I period across the floating fence line, the vanilla twilight barred by the white metal fences reminds me it's the same problem with template houses that chase it to a small reserve or park. The fence is too high and too close to the bedroom window. Well, it's always been like that. Never changed. Never changed it over visibility. Stay in your lane kind of ordeal helps with traffic management of airspace. Heat's rising. I bitterly drawled and sucked in my last whiff for today, Just over 30 months or so at the Cape and I'd get my practical learning done before returning to the city. I can attest to the Empire's reaches even here at the ports. Usually this blimp would be off once I stepped into the opposing floor. Usually it takes a little time to be off. I felt peculiar and wanting. I stepped into this world taking it slow like waiting water and low tide ocean below the canopy whipped inland the excess breaths of waves through the hairs of sandy dead grass inwards. It would be best for two moods to flow along rather then oppose each other. Mass floodings were whirling deaths for small islands.