A warm feminine engaging fiction told in a storyteller fashion

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Not Yet Rated


This sample is from a full 9-hour audiobook

Vocal Characteristics



Voice Age

Young Adult (18-35)


North American (General)


Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
My sister busily bob her head to the radio and watched the passing trees. She commented that she hoped she'd see a moose, and it brought me back to the time dad crashed into one. Did she remember as we climbed higher up mountain jolly? I kept looking in Rory's direction, awaiting a reaction from her. She had to know where we were going. Once Brett's Road neared. She sat up straighter and her face looked more alert. She didn't appear uncomfortable nor comforted. I looked at her again and spoke. Do you want to see Brett for a little bit? See what he's up to. Well, I don't know, she replied. You want to wait in the car while I run in. I turn the radio down when she didn't answer, I said, roar. Fine! She spat. Fine! I pulled over into a lot with a scenic view of Mount Washington, Mount Cranmore and other small neighbouring mountains. Fine as an okay or fine as in whatever. Fine isn't. Fine, she repeated, and sat back blank. What's wrong, baby sis? I asked softly and so badly wanted to reach out and stroke her cheek and tell her that I loved her. To the point that it left me breathless. She fidgeted with her finger and began to scrape off purple nail polish from a thumbnail. Nothing, she said. But her words didn't convince me. You can tell me anything I encourage and I try to muster up the strength to touch her. But I felt if I touched her I'd love her more than I already did and I couldn't imagine that I'd survived the weight of that love. I watched my baby and smiled at how beautiful she was. Her dark eyebrows and long lashes, the full rosy lips I saw on her mother and her soft all of skin. She reminded me of a precious moments, figurine. She was maturing at an alarming rate and no longer my little girl. Before I knew it, she'd be grown and I knew she'd need me even more. I hoped I was strong enough to withstand the problems she may encounter. I knew how I was and if she was anything like me, I'd be in for it. My teen years weren't too far in my past, but I felt old, aged, broken. I couldn't conceptualize living to be an old lady. I wasn't sure my will was robust enough. I talked at one of her pigtails and forced to juggle. Sure it's on your mind, Kiddo! Well, she considered what to say. What if he doesn't want to see me? It bothered me to think she'd ever wonder of Brett's feelings for her. He loved this little girl more than words. Why do you think he wouldn't want to see you? He loves you. Of course he wants to see you. How could you ever think otherwise? He's good at forgetting love. She said five simple words. Five four three 21 One simple word. Simple yet so complex. I just couldn't figure out whether the most important word was love or forgetting. What do you mean? I sat back in the shadows. She scrunched her lips, she shrugged and twirled a long strand of silky soft hair, Rory and rose. And their hair obsessions, their comfort zones. He's good at pretending he cares when he really doesn't. One minute he's cool the next He sucks when he visited us. He only visited you. He didn't give a **** about the rest of us. Watch your mouth. I cautioned her, then immediately focused on the topic at hand. What do you mean forgetting love? She looked at me dolly and I scooch back into the shadows. He loves you one day and the next day he's over you. Yeah. My voice came out of scratchy whisper. He's a moody *******. And mom says he's a pig. Perv a pig per I repeated, then cleared my throat. I feared specifics. I didn't want to know exactly what made him a pervert, but I needed to, at the same time my soul always take to hurt because it knew no better. It always ask direct questions and demanded direct answers. It was self sabotage. Mom says he used to sneak off all the time with girls in town and do stuff stuff. It wasn't a question. Yeah. Rory nodded stuff like sex and ****. Watch your mouth describe ****. I lean back deeper into the shadows until the doorframe blocked further movement. I was trapped and Rory's truths came at me. My ears throbbed, my throat constricted, my mouth dried. The car was hot. Mom said he's a male ****. He gave some girl some heart disease, heart disease. I pictured a large, shiny golden harp and a contaminated blonde woman with flowing hair wearing a white dress busily plucking at strings. Mom called him love bumps, Rory giggles and I cringed. Plus mom says he's a liar and a thief and she's glad he doesn't come over anymore. She said he's no longer her problem. She said he's a reason dad left to live with uncle jeremy instead of living with us. That isn't true. I defended. He'd never make dad leave dad left because dad left. No one else had anything to do with Dad's decision to leave his kids in a house with his crazy wife while he drank beers and partied with his brother across town. I rolled the window down and breathed in the fresh mountain air. I fumbled for my pack of cigarettes. Amber Rory asked. Yeah. I puffed in a drag and watch the smoke float away into the black sky. The wind tussled my hair and caused my forehead to itch. I used my shirt sleeve to relieve it and I, the cover up that smudged on the material. He okay. I looked at her. Why wouldn't I be okay? Did she sense my mood change or read it on my face hiding in the darkness? Hadn't worked. I'm good, I answered, But if you want to go see Brett, I will, I'll do it for you. He can't suck entirely. If you still like him, you don't. She shrugged and thought a smile spread on her pretty little face and she looked over at me. He's still my brother. Of course I like him. All I'm saying is I wish he liked me more. All he cares about is you, you you if you liked me more, maybe I like him more. He loves you. I said, in all seriousness, not as much as he loved you in those movies. She said what Mom said, I really, really loved you in the movies and that. Uncle Jeremy is a **** for loving you too. What movies? She squinted in her little girl way and couldn't come up with an answer. She shrugged and looked at me again. I have no idea. Mom didn't tell me the name of it. I looked ahead and noticed there were no more stars out. Let's go, she said, where France? She answered. No, no, no.