This is a clip from a book I narrated titled Blackberry road. It is the story of a young Oklahoma girl based in the 1930's.
North American (General)
North American (US South)
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
that makes me think hard about Mr Leroy's Platt. And I'm glad I don't have any tears left in my eyeballs across the old beat up bridge into the woods. Not one bit worried. It'll fall through to the water and plopped down to do some thinking. My hair blows in my face, and I sure wish I could get me a permanent. I think about maybe going to meet Mr Leroy Sister. Maybe she has some good news about Mr Leroy on account of Calvin. Given the sheriff that cufflink, I like my draw lives. I haven't heared of any wild dogs around here lately, and our dogs haven't had anti barking fits at night. I guess I'm sitting right here talking myself into going to Mr Leroy Shack to meet Miss Abernathy. Soon as I get into the Huckleberry trees and some of those cedars of Lebanon and oaks where they thinking up and have bushes along the ground, I started noticing something strange. I pull a handful of wild grass and working in my hands like I don't have a care in the world. I walk and stop. It's kind of like a deer is shuffling alongside me just out of sight. I walk. It does, too. I stop. It stops, leaves and branches wiggle from where I hear the sounds, then they settle down. Now I got better sense than to think a deer would walk alongside me like that. What if it's a pants are waiting to pounds? I thought they came out or not. Do Mad Dog Stock folks before they attack, I'm starting to get plum lie headed with frightful nous. I turn around really easy and aim towards the house. Clouds are starting to cover the sun, making the woods darker than they ought to be. This time of day, the wind goes toe worry in the treetops and twisting them around. I'm guessing it's going to storm, and I sure don't want to be in the woods. When it does, my steps get bigger. Birds flap wild overhead, A cross between a howl and a song said, Beautiful and terrible at the same time. Feels the woods. My hair about stands up on its roots. The wood ghost came, man nor Haynes Stop me Now, from racing to the creek and following until I come to the shallow part, I jump in the water and don't bother to roll up my overalls or bloomers that go sound feels my years, and the funny thing is, I love it and hate it at the same time.
Cowgirl, Narrator, Storyteller, Child-like, Confused, Country, Narrator, Youthful, Personable, North American (General), North American (US South)