Elizabeth Harper Dark Side Radio Hour Demo Reel
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EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
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shortly after midnight, a slumped, slowly moving figure topped the rise between Jury Barrels, Farm and Bluebird Creek. It's still looking down at the place where a meteor had impacted. Less than 30 hours before Georgie's East pastor was a sea of growing green weeds. The hay was gone for a distance of 160 yards in every direction. Already, the growth nearest the creek was over a foot and 1/2 high, and the tendrils that sprouted from the stocks move with a twisting, writhing movement that was almost sentient. At one point, the bluebird itself was gone. It flowed into a green. Margin came out four feet further downstream. Ah, Peninsula of Green. It already march 10 feet up the bank on Arlen McGinty's land. The figure that stood looking down on all this was not really Jordi Varel anymore. It was vaguely humanoid. The way a snowmen that's begun to melt is the head was a fuzzy green ball with no sign of a neck between it and the rounded shoulders deep down and all that green. One faded blue iris gleamed like a pail sapphire in the field. Tendrils suddenly waved in the air like 1000 snakes and pointed, trembling at the figure standing on the mall and on the figure tendrils suddenly pointed back. Georgie is thoughts dimming with the tight of greenness that now grew from the very meat of his brain. Understood that a kind of telepathy was going on. It's the food Good. Yes, very good rich. Is he the only food? No much food has thought. Say so. Does the food have a name? Two names. Sometimes they're called Jordi food. Sometimes it is called Cleaves Mills food. His thoughts say he once to Boehm. Can he do that? Why's boom? I don't know. Some Jordi thing. Good rich. Let him do what he wants. The figure, like a badly controlled puppet on frayed strings, turned and lurched back towards the house in the glow of the kitchen light. Jordi was a monster, a monster in the true sense. Nearly as ludicrous as he was terrifying. He looked like a walking privet hedge, a crying privet hedge. It had no tears because the growth was mercilessly absorbing every bit of moisture Georgie's failing systems could produce. But it cried just the same in its fashion as it pulled 4 10 Remington From its hooks over the shed door, it put the gun to what had once been Jordi barrels head. It couldn't pull the trigger by itself, but the tendrils helped. Perhaps curious to see if the boom would make the Jordi food more tasty, they curled around the trigger and tightened until the hammer dropped. The gun boomed, and Jordi barrels last thought was Oh, thank God. Lucky at last. The weeds reached the edge of the highway by dawn and began to grow around a sign post that said Cleaves Mills. Two miles. The round stocks whispered and rubbed against each other in a light dawn breeze. There was a heavy do and the weed sucked up greedily. A fine planet. Ah, what planet a ripe planet. The weeds began to grow towards town. I heard the clocks from the different steeples chime out the last hour of the day, one after the other, like echoes, taking up the refrain and dying away in the distance. And still, I sat spellbound, looking at that weird picture with my neglected pipe in my hand and a strange lassitude creeping over me. It was the eyes which fixed me now, with the unfathomable depths and absorbing intensity. They gave out no light but seemed to draw my soul into them and with it, my life and strength. As I lay inert before them until overpowered, I lost consciousness and dreamt. I thought that the frame was still on the easel with the canvas, but the woman had stepped from them and was approaching me with a floating motion leaving behind her a vault filled with coffins, some of them shut down while others lay or stood upright and open, showing the grisly contents. I could only see her head and shoulders with the somber drapery of the upper portion and the inky wealth of hair hanging round. She was with me now that pallet face touching my face and those cold, bloodless lips glued to mine with a close, lingering kiss while the soft black hair covered me and thrilled me through and through with a delicious thrill that whilst it made me grow faint, intoxicating me with delight as I breathed, you seem to absorb it quickly into herself, giving me back nothing getting stronger as I grew weaker while the warmth of my contact passed into her and made her palpitating with vitality. But all it wants. The horror of approaching death seized on me, and with a frantic effort, I flung her from me and started up from my chair, dazed for a moment, uncertain of where I waas than consciousness returned, and I looked around wildly. The gas was still blazing brightly while the fire burned, ready in the stove. By the time piece on the mantle, I could see it was half past 12. The picture and frame were still on the easel only as I looked at them. The portrait had changed a hectic flush on the cheeks while the eyes glittered with life in the sensuous lips were red and ripe looking with a drop of blood. Still on another one and a frenzy of horror, I seized my scraping knife and slashed out the vampire picture that tearing out the mutilated fragments I cramblett in my stove and watch them frizzle with savage delight. I have that frame still, but I have not yet had courage to paint a suitable subject for it. Your Royal Highness had the good fortune to be present during a golden age of horror for Children. I don't mean your fantasy movies with scary elements. Hotel Transylvania Igor. They have their rightful place in the Shadow Ling's video library, But I'm talking about horror, written and produced, especially for kids only. I'm talking goose bumps. Are you afraid of the dark tales from the Crypt Keeper stories? Principally from the perspective of a child dealing principally with their common fears and problems? The eighties and nineties, a time when media aimed specifically at kids was experiencing a boom period was flush with such content, and it all deserves to be remembered and honored for how it molded are twisted young minds to better demonstrate what I mean. I've brought in my trusted counselor and chief mad scientist, Dr Watchable. Our committees say hello to the Shadow Wings at home. RG the A classic case of stage fright. It's all right, doctor. Tell us about what you've brought along today. He It's a time machine, but not just any time machine. A time machine that goes back to landmarks in horror history. I knew there was a reason I kept you around after I purchased the rest of the court. Crank that puppy up, you adorable little madman.