Spellspam
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.
the first tent of serious trouble came as trouble always does unlocked for stealthily catching everyone by surprise. It was the day that Latasha Jackson suddenly turned into an anatomy teacher's aide. Things came to a head during a free study. Our individual work done in the comfortable, plush silence of the school library, each student to his or her own cubicle doing whatever work felt more pressing or pleasing. For some, that meant finishing homework do for the very next class. Others were reading college textbooks on chosen subjects, way beyond what the academy was supposed to be covering. Still others stat furtively hunched over their desks with loose hair covering contraband earphones trying to hide a music player shaped bulge in their pocket. One or two board drew cartoons. Air wrote snatches of deathless prose, which they fondly imagined would turn into a novel. Someday. The incorrigible chatterboxes found a way to whisper and giggle softly to one another from adjoining cubicles or passed notes with the occasional Russell of tearing and a screech of pencils on paper. But on the whole, everything was quiet, and theologian Drop liked it that way. She wasn't doing anything, particularly scholastic But that wasn't because she was goofing off. She usually managed to have most of her work done in reasonable time and hardly ever needed to resort to trying to write an essay five minutes before it was due. What she used her free study periods for was simply reading. She would meander down the library stacks of the beginning of the hour, pulling out a book here and there to check it out as a title, caught her eye and finally settled on something that interested her. Her reading tastes were wide ranging. The books that found their waiter cubicle range from almost pristine art history hardcovers to dog eared, fat fantasy novels that had passed through many hands. She was engrossed in a book about the social customs of chimpanzees. When a blood curdling scream rent the air from the coveted north corner of the library, where the bank of library computers slated for student use were situated, the A jumped, dropping her book on the desk with a thump and losing her place. She pushed her chair back on its casters to peer around the edges of her cubicle. Dozens of heads popped out from other cubicles and they were all in timeto watch, an appalled horror as something ghastly leapt back from a computer screen, overturning the chair and sending it flying into a bookcase, which staggered under the impact and raced down the length of the library and out through the double doors at the far end. The only reason theory even remotely recognized this apparition was LaTasha is trademark hairstyle, lots of tiny braids finished off by bright trade beads and garish shades of pink and mustard yellow. The face that she'd glimpse beneath those braids, however, was something else. Indeed, she looks like she's been skinned. Then she shuddered as she realised that this precisely this was what Latasha was skinned or at least giving a reasonably good imitation of it. But there was no blood. The A followed up, her own thought, frowning. Surely there should have been. But no, there was just that. Was it? In a nutshell. Instead of LaTasha skin the color of coffee leavened with a touch of cream, her face had been a striated complicated, massive red muscle striated bands of it coming down from her temples to wrap around her mouth, need folds of it across her nose and cupping her chin round orbs of it around her alarmingly protruding eyeballs with startling and somewhat unnerve Engl. Imps is of stark bone structure. Underneath it, all her hands held out in front of her had been the same way. A naked, tangled mess of tendon and sin you, but no blood. It was like her skin had just gone, see through, somehow revealing the building blocks of the body, which lay beneath, usually safely hidden away. There was a swelling of noise in the library as students surge out of their chairs, clustered in tight little knots. The librarian on duty was frantically whispering something into a telephone, her hand cupped protectively around the mouthpiece. For some reason, it was only Thea who finally backed away from all the pandemonium and edged almost furtively towards the computer LaTasha had been using. She wasn't sure herself what she expected to find there, but what she did discover left her blinking owlish Lee at the computer monitor. For a few moments, the screen showed a Web mail gateway, something that many students used while at school, while away from easy access to their own home email accounts, an email was open on the screen. An email that LaTasha should have known better than to open anything addressed to person at this address dot com should have been immediately suspect at the very least as an advertisement. Unwanted junk mail spam.