Southern Accent
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (US South)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
The road, if you could call it. That was a long dark dirt trail. It wasn't traveled too often since it didn't lead anywhere from the town except to a few old farms. The wild animals did a better job of keeping the path open than any city city officials. It was wide enough for a single wagon, but that was about it. Susan didn't mind its narrowness, it was nice quiet right today, though her imagination was getting the better of her in the back of her mind she kept getting the feeling that someone was watching her. She tried to shrug off the feeling of paranoia, but she traveled these roads over 100 times or so, and she never felt this uneasy about being on it. She kept looking at the dense line of woods on either side of her, but so little light was shining through. Someone could have been standing just behind the first row of trees, and she'd never see them. She shook at the thought of a dark figure standing there, watching her, staring at her following her, john had always said that his wild imagination make this road absolutely terrifying for him. Susan would always laugh at him and tell him that the things in the woods were more scared of him than they were of them. But today she wasn't so certain her mind kept wandering to this thought of figure following close stalking her just out of her reach. She wanted to pick up the pace, but the roads conditions made higher speeds treacherous for the wooden wheels. This speed would just have to do. Unfortunately, she pulled a blanket out of a small toolbox that john had fashioned behind the bench. He liked to keep that blanket in there with his tools just in case he had to crawl underneath the ragin to work on it. Susan liked to think he had put it in there for her if she got cold, smelled like a barn but she didn't mind as she wrapped it around herself. For some reason she thought having the blanket around her would help put her at ease. But it didn't, if anything it made her feel more vulnerable. She wouldn't admit this to herself but she kept it bundled tight anyway. The sound of the birds above the canopy helped a little to ease her fears. Life was normal for them as they chirped and called nothing out of the ordinary, john had said when the birds were quiet then trouble was brewing. The loud calling of a murder of crows didn't exactly make her delighted, but the birds didn't seem alarmed