Imagine: Life on a Chain - Audiobook Retail Sample
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.
Chapter one. A Weird Smell. The dog awoke feeling more uncomfortable than usual, which was saying something, given that he was chained to a dilapidated box the size of a grocery card. The world seemed off the neighborhood. Quiet. Even the woods behind him hushed like everything waited. He shifted uneasily, sniffed the air. It was warm for March. The sun was just peeking over the far off mountains, and he shivered as he crawled out of his doghouse to meet the dawn memory of the recent cold snap making his bones egg. He supposed he should be grateful for the promise of a warm day. As he slid into middle age, the winter months seemed longer and more unbearable with each passing year. He shook his fur out the best he could, hoping for a little more insulation until the temperatures rose a few degrees. He was a mutt, like so many of the forgotten. His fur was thick, but on the shorter side, and his black and tan markings made him unremarkable. His floppy ears bespoke a labrador heritage, while his coloring hinted at shepherd in the mix. His eyes were kind, smart, knowing, and sad, so very, very sad. His owner called him magnum, tossed out with a sneer and a pretend gun pointed at the dog's head. The obligatory pew. Pew sounds always next out of his mouth. Here's your food, you stupid mutt, he'd say, pouring kibble into a bowl and dumping a pitcher of water over it, never bothering to bend over far enough to ensure the water stayed in the dog's banged up dish. The dog gobbled the offerings every night knowing he had to eat fast and slurp every drop of the precious liquid as tomorrow was never a sure thing. On the few occasions he hadn't finished his dinner, there was always someone waiting just beyond the shadows to take it from him. But even though in the morning brought constant hunger and thirst, dinner was a long, very long time away. If it came at all. He peered at the neighbor's back window and reassuringly saw flicker of light. He remained bothered by the unusual stillness even for early morning when the world had just begun to wake from its dark slumber. Normally he could hear the traffic already clogging the highway two blocks over, but today there were no cars on the road. Normally his owner Rudy's alarm blared about this time, but the faint sounds of his snores still drifted out into the backyard. The breeze shifted and a whiff of something unknown teased his senses. What was that? He brought his head up and inhaled deeply. He didn't recognize it and yet, and yet something about the odor nudged a memory from his mind of a time when life held promise when he had fully embraced the naive enthusiasm that came with puppy hood, he tugged on the mental string and the flashback overwhelmed him. He sagged onto the ground, assaulted by memories of his first home. Chapter two. His first home. The force of the assault surprised the dog he struggled to his feet, refusing to be bowed by the loss and the accompanying bile that crawled its way up into his mouth. How long had it been since he'd remembered too long and yet, never long enough. The memories played like a well worn movie and having nothing else to occupy his time.