Prey For Me(Werewolf Story)
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.
pray for me, Park one written by Stephen Biller, Do not gloat over the day of your brother's misfortune. The wind that blew against the back of Scoggins bare neck was bitterly cold. The sturdy, dark haired young man could not tell. However, from birth, he had been unable to feel either hot or cold. No one in his family could. It was sort of a family trait, one of many that set them apart from other people. In the small town of swans borough, north Carolina, where they lived set them apart from most other people in the world. Actually, sometimes this thought bugged him, being different, creative sort of canyon between you and everyone else. And no matter how awesome those things that made you different work, you were still separated from people buy them, and that canyon of separation could look awfully big and dark ski guns. Mine was on neither his occasional feelings of loneliness nor the temperature of the air rushing past his face. He was too busy sniffing out his older brother's trail, His nose wrinkled as he sniffed at a passing tree. His thick eyebrows came down over his blue eyes as he concentrated on the different odors he encountered fox bear, wild turkey, but no sin of his brother. The sin of bears surprised him a little. All the bears should have been in hibernation before now. It had to be old. Still. It smelled awfully strong. Suddenly he jerked to a stop from 50 mph to a standstill, did not faze him at all. In a quick motion he squatted down and sniff close to the base of a tree. Then he yanked his face back, making it a disgusted face. Yes, his brother had been there and drinking too, standing up and brushing his pants legs off in one smooth motion ski, and looked around. Sin of his brother would be easy to follow. Now, less than a minute later, skin found himself outside of a nightclub. The pink neon sign depicted the figure of a lady kicking her leg in the air, Then bringing it back down. Over and over, she repeated the motion skiing and rolled his eyes. What his brother found intriguing about these types of places was beyond him. He was 14 and he had seen some girls he thought were cute, but this, this was just degrading. He did not need to be warned away from places like this. They held no interest to him. He approached the dark tinted front door, but heard a commotion on the other side. It was thrust open suddenly in two men with closely cropped hair stumbled out. They would have ran straight into skiing, but he was no longer there. In fact, the parking lot appeared empty. Except for these two drunk marines, they made their way up the street, holding on to each other so as not to fall over in the shadows to the left at the front door. The teens shook his head as he watched them leave alcohol, another vice that he could not understand. The popularity of. It smelled awful and turned one into a stumbling idiot. Yet here he was outside of an establishment that doubt exclusively in hose and booze. Why? The question was rhetorical because the reason was happening so often lately for the sake of his brother and on nights when Logan was especially gross and difficult and Skagen would just have soon left him in his own vomit on the sidewalk. The reason changed on those nights he did it for the sake of his family. He had first went out after Logan so that his parents, who always gave everything for the happiness and protection of their Children would not have to be confronted with the shame of their eldest son. Instead of going inside skiing and decided to check the area around the building. He slipped silently from shadow to shadow, becoming a shadow himself. Only a creature natural to the dark can walk. As he walked at the back of the building, a lone light shone dimly over a closed metal door. Near this, he found the rusty ladder to the roof. This gave him a great idea to wait for his brother above. In half a second he was crushed on the edge of the roof, looking down at the parking lot, and now he thought to wait. A couple of hours passed. He may have dozed off looking around. He gathered his, since this noise was coming from the back of the building, muted voices spoke tauntingly, Turning. He was suddenly crouched at the back of the building. The scene below him let disparagingly by a yellow 60 watt bulb over the back door would have been frightening to an average freshman kid but perhaps not in the same way it was for speeding. He more than felt vague fear. He understood the gravity of the situation to teens older than Skagen were backing out towards the edge of the lights perimeter, just coming out of the door, now suddenly stalking the boys in formation. Five leather clad men crouched, their fingers were bent like claws and their mouths forming smiling snarls. Give us the boy Logan! The leader of the leathers hissed. The light bounced off his outstretched hands as if they were as shiny as his slick leather jacket skin looked again towards the teens. One had curly brown hair and was tall and lean. His walk was like that of a ballerina, with a stubbed toe, clumsy but with an underlying grace. The other boy had flaming red hair and seemed to be shaking with fright. His back was pressed up against the taller teen, in the stance that was an odd cross between giving and seeking protection. Scoggin had straightened. He turned his mind towards his brother, letting him know of his presence and outlining a plan the thought sent back as an answer were rather fuzzy and slightly garbled, but Scoggin had grown accustomed to deciphering Logan's drunk thoughts. When the two teens on the ground reached the edge of the bulbs light they stopped moving. The leather clad hunters also stopped in that moment, skidding, uttered a prayer, and leapt forward. He sailed through the air, hands outstretched like claws. His black trenchcoat flew out like giant bats wings. He gave an unearthly his snarl, his full lips pull back to reveal shiny white teeth. The canines glinted sharply in the dull light, figures on the ground looked up in surprise. In an instant the two teens disappeared, almost silently skiing, pounced on the leader, his fingers gripping the shoulders and his boots mean the small of the back. There was a crunch, and even before the leather had touched the ground the dark youth was gone, leaping forward into the shadows of the city. To be continued in part two, Pray for Me was written by Stephen Z Biller. Music by Adrian Von Ziegler, narrated by myself, josh visor! Thank you all for listening. Be sure to tune in next time for the continuation of our epic tale.