Horror Narration Example
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
British (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
There's someone standing at the foot of my bed every night for the past week, as my eyelids grow heavy and I slip into unconsciousness, he comes out his hands, grasping the metal railing, rising one inch at a time. He picks out his hand first black and future lis attacker of cobalt blue eyes said, High up where his eyebrows should bay. Then comes the shoulders on his chest until he's fully upright. It looks like a stool. American, sexless, starved. I know I'm sleeping, but my eyes are open and I see him. But I can't bring myself to talk to him or reach out to him. The gaunt man just stands there, his eyes transfixed to mine his breathing's shallow and wreck it. On Monday, the gunman reached out a thin hand with long fingers on pulls back, the sheets covering my legs. He drags his fingers across my heels or up the soles of my feet, leaving long trails of red and stain my sheet. It sounds like a nightmare, the kind you can't wake yourself out off. Tuesday, I caught a glimpse of him in my bedroom mirror. His back was the same as his friend. His cobalt blue eyes found mine in the dark room and just watched me as I slept. He dragged his things across my legs all the way down to my toenails, scratching them. There's always pain in the morning. This bullet on the sheets scabs on my legs. He loves mirrors. I know this. He likes to look at himself when it comes out from under the bed. Wednesday, you just stood instead of his own reflection, as if we were in love with it. This friend, though this one stayed fixed in May. Thursday, his eyes moved, shifted across his face until they were at just the right place. When this was done, he crawled into the back beneath the covers and lay beside Mei the way he found my hand, brushed his skin and made me think of rotten shellfish in a freezer draw. Friday morning. It was gone. My feet were a bloody mess. Just trying to stand up felt like a dozen needles running through the soles of my feet. I saw him in the puddle. I made him the floor. Don't ask me how I could tell, but he looked like he was smiling I want to see a doctor about it, and they sent me to see a shrink. I've showered three times already, but I still smell like rotten shellfish. Friday night, he was leaning over me as I slapped. He looks proper now, bit round in the waist, same as me. Saturday morning, I missed the appointment with the shrink. It's hard to type now that he's in my money's his reflection. He's dragging his fingers across the back of my hands, up my arms, all the way to my shoulders. I can't see the letters that well for the blood. My eyes hold wrong. He's fading now, but from the creaking of the floorboards in the next room, I know he's in the bed. Don't ask me how I know that, but it's his bet. Now. He'll be in my review mirror. Come Monday, I'll be the one standing behind him. As he looks at his reflection in the bathroom stalls, I look at my reflection, my eyes cobalt blue,
Tags
Narrator, Storyteller, Millennial, Angry, Animated, Booming, Classy, Frightened, Emotional, British (General)