Audiobook - Name Of the Wind, Epilogue
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
epilogue, a silence of three parts. It was night again, the way stone in lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts. The first part was, Ah, hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been horses stabled in the barn, they would have stamped and champ and broken it to pieces if there had been a crowd of guests. Even a handful of guests bedded down for the night. They're restless, breathing and mingled. Snores would have gently thought the silence like a warm spring wind if there had been music. But no, of course, there was no music. In fact, there were none of these things, and so the silence remained. Inside the waist own a man huddled in his deep, sweet smelling bed, motionless, waiting for sleep. He lay wide eyed in the dark. In doing this, he added a small, frightened silence to the larger hollow one. They made an alloy of sorts. Ah, harmony. The third silence was not an easy thing to notice. If you listen for an hour, you might begin to feel it, and the thick stone walls of the empty tap room and in the flat gray medal of the sword that hung behind the bar. It was in the dim candle light that filled an upstairs room with dancing shadows. It was in the mad pattern of a crumpled memoir that lay fallen and unforgotten atop the desk. It was in the hands of the man who sat there pointedly ignoring the pages he had written and discarded long ago. The man had true red hair read this flame. His eyes were dark and distant, and he moved with a weary calm that comes from knowing many things the way stone was hiss, just as the third silence was hiss. This was appropriate, as it was the greatest silence of the three, wrapping the others inside itself. It was deep and wide as autumns ending. It was heavy as a great river, smooth stone. It was the patient cut flowers sound of a man who was waiting to die