Audiobooks (Paranormal, Psychological Horror)
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (US General American - GenAM) Trans-AtlanticTranscript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
I know that people are going to call this out of ********, so I'll just say it right now. I am her demon. At least that's what most people would call me. The truth of what I am and where I'm from is a bit mysterious to corporeal beings. Suffice it to say, the body in which I'm currently residing is not my own. This fragile meat suit belongs to a vapid 19 year old girl named Cindy. She spends most of her days doing the things you'd expect of vapid 19 year old girl to Dio. She used to spend most of her days posing in 20 different positions before finally deciding to post that Instagram selfie. She used to go out with her friends and spring out of a seat at the very slightest of jump scares. She also usedto have her friends over to her dorm room toe. Have fun with a weedy board. To be fair to Cindy, she only did that last one once. Under normal circumstances, a weed abroad is a piece of ****. You don't get in contact with ghosts or demons already of that other sort of nonsense. Uh, this time, though, Sarah Cindy's bestie decided to bring a friend of hers along to their little summon a demon night. And this friend, who, according to Cindy's memories, was named Cheryl, decided to bring a very special book with her, along with many other things. This book has a list of names that shouldn't exist anymore. One of those names is mine. And before you think it, no, I'm not going to tell you my name. One of the few things about which your human understanding of us is right is the fact that our names are truly us if you know our names and if you invoke them that you have power over us. And I'm not dumb enough to give a bunch of random people on the Internet my name. There was a long crack in the windshield like lightning eating up the glass at one jagged junction, a bit of something black stuck up from the broken pain. Douglas wanted it with detached horror, his body burned with adrenaline at his eyes, stung of tears. In a moment, everything had changed, sticking out from the glass, waving in the wind. It was hair. He checked the rearview, apparently after swerving noisily. A few times, Douglas's car had ended up on the side of the road, where the river snaked close to the shoulder. There were no other cars on the road, normal for this time of night. He put the car into park, turned the key and slowly got out. His legs felt uneven, his body on fit for walking, and he came around to the front of the car expecting the worst. A man lay on the ground ahead, his face buried in the dirt. Are you okay? Douglas called out. No answer, he asked again. This time, the man moved his fingers. Douglas rush to him and turned him on his side so he could breathe. He propped the man's head up in his lab. The theme man breathed. Relax, it's OK. Help! Old ing the man's head! He asked How co. His voice cut out. Painfully. Each word took tremendous effort. Poli's Douglas closed his eyes after taking a quick shower at home. He had poured himself a drink to relax before he went back out to McSweeney's. If he called the police now, Oh, I already called them Douglas, and we have to send it wait for them. They told me the way I'm first. Douglas looked over his shoulder, and so how close they were to the edge of the river. The water turned past small, smooth rocks. He tried to lay the man's head back down on the grass, but he couldn't find a way to do it. That didn't cause the man to scream out in agony. Instead, he carefully dragged him backward, grunting and sweating to the river until his legs were submerged in it. With one hand, he cradled the man's bleeding head from dipping into the river, and with the other, he scooped up cold water and fed it to him. It tastes like salt, the man complained. It didn't make sense at all. Douglas tried it himself, but it only tasted like water. It's a river, Hay said. It's fresh water. It takes lack salt, the man repeated. He took another sip, looked up. A Douglas. Has he struggled to take a breath? When, When What? When are they coming? Douglas paused Soon. Just try to relax. The man's cut rose and fell like waves. You? I didn't do it, he said. Douglas scooped up more water in his palm. Do what? Call his hand stopped, the man's wide. I stared up at him accusingly. Douglas didn't appreciate the look. Of course. I called call again. There's no point. They're already coming. Douglas was starting to get annoyed. The two men locked eyes. They understood each other too well together. In that moment, their lifelines tangled like bad wires, the river gurgling and splashing into them, pushing past their bodies eternally. A moment stretched into lifetimes. Time was nothing. Life had stopped. The man took a great deep breath, and with the night air loaded in his lungs, he opened his mouth to scream for help. Douglas push the man's head. Under the surface, the screen became bubbles in an undying torrent of frigid river water. He wouldn't let this man ruin his life. This stranger, who had no business walking along the side of the road at night, the unwelcome weight that hit his bumper and bounced off his windshield. The man who thrashed and swallowed the river with his eyes wide open his eyes