The Tale of Izumrud
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EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
African (General) North American (General) US African AmericanTranscript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
the monster's name was great worm. And there were those who claimed he had made the tunnels that ran beneath raf car sick with appetite. He ate up silt and gravel, borrowing deeper and deeper into the earth, searching for something to satisfy his hunger until he'd gone too far and lost himself in the door. It was just a story, but in the white cathedral people were careful not to stray too far from the passages that curled around the main cabins. Strange sounds echo through the damn warren of tunnels, groans and unexplained, rumbling. Cold pockets of silence were broken by low hisses. There might be nothing, or might be the sinuous movement of a long body snaking closer through a nearby passage in search of its prey. In those moments it was easy to believe that is um Root still lived somewhere waiting to be woken by the call of heroes, dreaming of the fine meal he would have, if only a hapless child would walk into his mouth. A beast like that rests. He does not die now. The boy brought the girl, this tale, and others too. All the news stories he could gather in the early days when he was allowed near her. He would sit beside her bed trying to get her to eat, listening to the pain whistle of our lungs, and he would tell the story of a river tamed by a powerful tight maker, and trained to dive the layers of rocks. You can imagine coin. He'd whisper to her of poor cursed pelican laboring for 1000 years with his magic acts leaving caverns and passages in his weight. A lonely creature in search of nothing but distraction, massing gold and jewels never intended to spend. And one morning boy arrived, find his way to the girls room barred by armed men, and when he would not leave they dragged him from a door in chains. The priest warned the boy that faith would bring in peace, and obedience would keep him breathing. But now locked in her cell alone, before the drip of the water and the slow beat of her heart. The girl knew the stories of islam were true. She had been swallowed whole, devoured, and then the echoing alabaster belly of the white cathedral. Now only the saint remained.