Something In The Water
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
British (England - Liverpool, Manchester, Lancashire, Cheshire) British (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Something in the Water by Katharine Steadman, Read by Kathleen France Saturday, October The first The grave. Have you ever wondered how long it takes to dig a grave wonder? No longer. It takes an age, however long you think it takes double that. I'm sure you've seen it in the movies the hero gun to his head, perhaps, as he sweats and grunts his way deeper and deeper into the earth until he's standing six feet down in his own grave. Other two hapless crooks who argue and quip in the hilarious madcap chaos as they shovel frantically, dirt flying skyward with cartoonish ese. It's not like that. It's hard. Nothing about it is easy. The ground is solid and heavy and slow. It's so ******* hot, and it's boring and along, and it has to be done. The stress, the adrenaline the desperate animal need to do it sustains you for about 20 minutes. Then you crash your muscles yawn against the bones in your arms and legs. Skin to bone, bone to skin. Your heart aches from the aftermath of thie Adrenal shock. Your blood sugar drops. You hit the wall. Ah, full body hit, but you know, you know, with crystal clarity that high or low, Exhausted or not, that hole's getting Doug. Then you kick into another gear. It's that halfway point in a marathon when the novelty has worn off and you've just got to finish the joyless, bloody thing you've invested your all in. You've told all your friends you do it. You made them pledge donations to some charity or other when you have only a vague passing Connexion, too. They guiltily promised more money than they really wanted to give feeling obligated because of some bike ride or other, they might have done it university, the details of which they bore you with every time they get drunk. I'm still talking about the marathon. Stick with me, and then he went out every evening on your own shins, throbbing headphones in building up miles forthis so that you can fight yourself, fight with your body right there in that moment in that stock moment and see who wins. And no one but you is watching and no one but you really cares. It's just you and yourself trying to survive. That is what digging a grave feels like. Like the music has stopped. But you can't stop dancing