Opening of the Dresden Files, Book 1
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
I heard the mailman approached my office door half an hour earlier than usual. He didn't sound right. His movements fell more heavily, jauntily, and he whistled. A new guy. He whistled his way to my office door, then fell silent for a moment. Then he laughed. Then he knocked. My mail comes through the mail slot. Unless it's registered, I get a really limited selection of registered mail and it's never good news. I got up out of my office chair and opened the door. The new mailman, who looked like a basketball with arms and legs and a sunburned balding head was chuckling at the sign on the door glass. He glanced at me and hooked a thumb towards the sign. You're kidding right. I read the sign. People changed occasionally and shook my head. No, I'm serious. Can I have my mail please? So, uh, like parties, shows, stuff like that. He looked past me as though he expected to see a white tiger or possibly some skimpily clad assistants prancing around my one room office. I sighed. Not in the mood to get mocked again and reach for the mail. He held in his hand. No, not like that. I don't do parties. He held onto it, his head tilted curiously. So what Some kind of fortune teller cards and crystal balls and things. No, I told him I'm not a psychic. I talked to the male. He held onto it. What are you then? What's the sign on the door say? It says. Harry, Dresden wizard. That's me. I confirmed. An actual wizard, he asked, grinning as though I should let him in on the joke spells and potions, dimension, incantations, subtle and quick to anger. Not so subtle. I jerked the mail out of his hand and looked pointedly as clipboard. Can I sign for my mail, please? The new mailman's grin vanished, replaced with a scowl. He passed over the clipboard to let me sign from the mail. Another late notice from my landlord and said, You're a nut. That's what you are. He took his clipboard back and said, You have a nice day, sir. I watched him go typical, I muttered, and shut the door. My name is Harry, Blackstone. Copperfield, Dresden. Conjured at your own risk. I'm wizard. I work out of an office in midtown Chicago. As far as I know, I'm the only openly practicing professional wizard in the country. You can find me in the yellow pages under wizards, believe it or not. I'm the only one there. My ad looks like this. Harry Dresden Wizard. Lost items, found paranormal investigations, consulting advice, reasonable rates, no love potions, endless purses, parties, or other entertainment, you'd be surprised how many people will call me just to ask if I'm serious. But then if you'd seen the things I'd seen, If you knew half of what I knew, you'd wonder how anyone could not think I was serious