Audiobook Montage
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Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
British (General) North American (General) Scottish (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Dressed trotted away from the hut and into the woods. Her jeweled dagger now drawn, it made her feel strong though a sword at her hip would have made her feel better. Once she was deep among the trees, she listened, then went on. She brushed past leafy branches over mossy stones. As silent as the mist that shrouded the night around her. I closed my eyes and sigh, speared with panic. How careless could I have been to leave the back door accessible? He rises and walks to the back of the house. I follow it's dark. However, and the view from the window isn't helpful. What's behind your garden, a back alley? Then the gardens of the street behind us, Larks Terrace. He writes this down. You keep any money in the house at any valuables, expensive items. We have a couple of 100 quid in a box in the kitchen for emergencies. Is it still there? I nod. My calves ache and my lungs are starting to burn. But I force myself up the street, cursing my sister for leaving the door open and Leanne for being the school's top long distance runner and Tink for being slow enough to let her catch him in the first place. Heads turn as the girls run past, someone yells something about calling the S PC A but nobody tries to stop them. Nobody ever tries to stop them. Fly. Fairy Fly Leanne shouts go on. You can do it. He has taken lives many of them, in fact, and not just animal. He knows better than anyone that it is not something to boast about. It is a dark place from which you can never quite return. It does something to you. The first time, an essential change somewhere deep in the soul, the amputation of something important. The first time is the worst. But with each death, the soul is wounded further. After a while, there was nothing left but scar tissue. The subs themselves made Johnston possible by obeying his impossible orders. I couldn't see how a man of such obvious cruelty could be allowed to have his position. The regulars didn't care the ***** man was worthless. So I filled out a 30 page report on one of my days off, mailed one copy to Johnston and took the other down to the Federal building. The clerk told me to wait. I waited and waited and waited. How can I explain just being in the same room as my father has taken every ounce of courage. I have, I handed him the fiddle without thinking, it just seemed the right thing to do but play for him. That's like giving him something from my soul. And I'm not ready to do that. Why should he be able to have such a precious gift when he never afforded me the right to have him in my life? I want to think about it. Go away and consider it all. I want to talk to Phoebe. She's the reason I'm even in this room. And then I remember what Phoebe's host in Rome told her, the lady with the painted Pebbles. It made such an impression that she's mentioned it many times when we've texted or spoken since mark the moment, good or bad. Acknowledge it, no judgment, no pressure to feel it about or act upon it in any way. Just mark it.