Fiction, non fiction and Horror audiobooks



An example of audiobook narration

Vocal Characteristics



Voice Age

Middle Aged (35-54)




Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
fiction Clone, said Harry is the sound of philtres. Shuffling feet reached their ears. They hurried up the stairs and along the seventh floor, Cardell, Oi! Out of the way, run back to a small girl who jumped in fright and dropped a bottle of Toad Spawn. Harry hardly noticed the sound of shattering glass. He felt disorientated, dizzy, being struck by a lightning bolt must have felt something like this. It's just because she's run sister, he told himself. You just didn't like seeing her kissing Dean because she's Rong's sister. But un bidden into his mind came in image of that same deserted corridor with himself kissing Jenny instead. But then he saw wrong, ripping open the tapestry curtain and drawing his wand on Harry, shouting things like Betrayal of trust. Supposed to be my friend. Do you think I mind he did. Snow Crumb, Run asked abruptly as they approached the fat lady nonfiction man made clocks work on time scales that are very short by evolutionary standards, hours, minutes, seconds and the time dependent processes. They use a fast the swinging of a pendulum, the swivelling of a hair spring, the oscillation of the crystal, the burning of a candle, the draining of a water vessel or an hourglass, the rotation of the earth registered by a sun dial. All clocks exploit the same process that occurs at a steady and known right. The pendulum swings at a very constant right, which depends on its length, but not, at least in theory, on the amplitude of the swing or the mass of the Bob. The End. Grandfather clocks work by linking a pendulum to an escape mint, which advances a tooth wheel step by step. The rotation is then get down to the speed of rotation oven. Our hand, a minute hand and a second hand watches with hair. Spring wheels work in a similar way. Hora. He began to struggle across the soft yet stiff barricade of bodies, stumbling, almost fooling, clutching onto the railing. Going on his foot, punch through into some dreadful slimness, and there was a gassy, putrid smell that he barely noticed. He went on, gasping, then from behind him, a scream rose in the darkness, freezing him on the spot. It was a desperate, wretched sound, close to the limits of sanity. It was Rita Blake more. He turned around there was a subbing, now wild sobbing, that filled the place with fresh echoes. For one wild moment, he decided to go on anyway. To leave her, she would find her way out. Eventually, why burden himself with her again?