Land of the Storytellers by Stephen Deck
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Hi there, my name is Jack Henry Kissin and I'll be auditioning for Land of the Storytellers, 23 stories and seven poems by Stephen Deck May rain. Travis killed the truck's motor. The black wipers came to a sudden halt. They never made it all the way into. The black rubber hung at a cocked angle across the windshields view. The drops of rain quickly took over all the wipers work. The capture only took a few seconds. Then all the glass could offer was blurred a smoke image where Travis could see the budding maples in the distance. They showed in light green flecks and blotches. Travis opened the door. He stepped out on the gravel lot, all the heat trapped inside the cab by the truck's defroster. Now went with Travis. Soon the glass was enveloped in fog vapor and the vinyl seat had started its contraction. Travis moved off the bluff and down the steep slope. His fish pole was still in the cab. It was broken down into sections and synched with red bands of rubber. The heavy rains had made the chopped out trail very slippery and Travis went down descending the embankment with hands out and palms down, weaving down the path with his boots skidding on mud, moving around and over the bare tree roots that had gone black in the May rain. He could see the lake and the raindrops were peppered all over its surface. The falling rain had made quick work of soaking Travis shoulders as his gray sweatshirt lacked value for fighting bad weather on the shore was a grove of trees. They were hemlocks, they still had not taken on new growth, and their coats of needles were casts of forest green. Out in the center of the lake, a thin veil of fog was moving in, trailing wisps across the waters. Thank you.