Story
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
watch your step. Harry jumped, nearly dropping his briefcase, turning to see what he had thought was just a cardboard cutout. Next to the turnstile was an actual living person. A ticketmaster adorned in perfect navy blue suit and cap stood a foot away from Harry, his brilliantly white teeth shining in a white green ****. Did not smile back miles slightly. A gape. He stayed at the quite literally picture perfect man. He wasn't sure if the stranger was an actual survey operator or maybe just some stunt set up by a group of punks with hidden cameras somewhere. The reason Harry was so baffled. At least the one most giving of pause was that it was three in the morning in a perfect world. Harry should have been home by now. But the past week and a half saw a rather pressing deadline for an incomplete project that had given way to his newfound habit of sleeping in his cubicle at work. The only reason he was even taking this away now was to pick up a file he had accidentally taken home and left on the desk of his home office. It was, it was essential to make sure the file was handed in with the rest of the project documents, all of which was due first thing when his manager walked in so it unfortunately couldn't wait cabs are expensive this time of night. So here he was. But why was there a ticketmaster here? The ticketmaster or perhaps just a man in a blue suit reached into his jacket and pulled something out. It appeared to be the size of an egg and for a moment Harry wondered if the true prank was beginning, but with a click the object opened a metal face and Harry saw that it was a golden pocket watch. The man peered at it for a moment with a mild curiosity. A short lof escaped his stretched lips before he closed it and looked back up at Harry, sliding the glinting gold back into his hiding place. He raised a firm finger and pointed over the turnstile to assign beyond. Harry Harry eyed him suspiciously, then leaned and looked over the metal bus line to green 0.0 minutes a squawk of alarmed slipped up from Harry's throat as he scrambled for his empty a card, he slapped it down onto the screen, connecting turnstiles which be green. As he moved through the rotating bus briefcase clutched to his chest. Just before he descended. Harry gave a glance backwards to the man. The man stood still there, still stood there, smile still white, a hand raised upward and tapped his nose. Toys. Harry turned back and hurried away from the ticketmaster in the blue suit. It was by the threat of his jacket that Harry jumped over the yellow and into the closing doors and no voice came in over the loudspeaker to scold him for the dangerous behavior and took an empty seat and slid down. It had been at least a week since he had been home. His office building had their own showers for the company personal gym. So going home had simply become a waste of time. The only downside was stiffness in his back no longer dissipated after sleep. Since sleep was just timed. Power naps in his desk chair. No matter though, the discomfort that stress the pain, it would be worse. It when he handed everything in tomorrow morning, Harry looked up from his seat. A poster across from him was Edward housing some kind of two faced. One of those ones that brighten your smile with some new recipe or something. The slogan plastered in bold black lettering next to the man with a dazzling bright smile read, watch your step. And he looked again. The sign read, wash your smile, grow the hairs on the back of his neck. Pickled. Maybe it was just a coincidence of recency, of pure strangeness of the wording. But Harry was almost sure he had created quite the first time. The letters has changed, right? No, no, that was crazy person thinking he was just tired. However, the most he, the more he stayed at the smile of the man on the poster, the more familiar it looked realizing where his brain was wondering, he tore his eye away and looked anywhere else. This is new york. All things happen all the time. A stranger posing as a ticketmaster to creep out. People on the subway was no weirder than the next saying. None of that matters Anyways. Harry thought to himself. Just to keep your mind on the file. Only the file. Once you've got the file, everything will fall right in place. Moments in Harris movement, movement in Harry's prefers caused him to jump slightly. An older man, eyes glazed in an unknown able search walked between him and the poster on his way to the other side of the car. His face expressed a permanent depression that was in expertly hidden by the mild matting of beard and mane which had long been given to nature. Have you pretended to be interested in a spot of gum on the edge of his seat as a man passed. But as Coleman went to step in front of him, the train lurched into a turn. The old man stumbled, catching his balance on the arm bar above, but Harry instinctively threw a hand up to grab a hold of the man before he fell on top of the door like magnet pulled within the range of another. The movement sparked life into the old man's eyes. He quickly locked onto Harry's own. The eyes maintained the vaccine. Wild nature for a few minutes before, for a few moments before suddenly breaking into horrible terror. You've seen him. The man's voice came out from the bed in a whispery Roscoe, you're too close to the edge, you will fall. Don't follow him. Don't follow him