Sample from The Woman's Ghost Story by Algernon Blackwood
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
British (General) British (Received Pronunciation - RP, BBC) North American (Canadian-General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
The woman's ghost story by Algernon Blackwood. Yes. She said from her seat in the dark corner, I'll tell you an experience if you care to listen and what more, I'll tell it briefly without trimmings. I mean, without uns essentials. That's a thing. Storytellers never do. You know, she laughed. They'll drag in all the uns essentials and leave their listeners to disentangle. But I'll give you just the essentials and you can make of it what you please. But on one condition that at the end you ask no questions because I cannot explain it and I have no wish to. We all agreed. We were all serious after listening to a dozen Prolix stories from people who merely wished to talk but had nothing to tell. We wanted essentials. In those days, she began feeling from the quality of our silence that we were with her. In those days. I was interested in psychic things and had arranged to sit up alone in a haunted house in the middle of London. It was a cheap and dingy lodging house and in a mean street unfurnished, I had already made a preliminary examination in daylight that afternoon and the keys from the caretaker who lived next door were in my pocket. This story was a good one, satisfied me at any rate that it was worth investigating and I won't wear you with the details as to the woman's murder and all the tiresome elaborations as to why the place was alive enough that it was I was a good deal bored. Therefore, to see a man whom I took to be the talkative old caretaker waiting for me on the steps. When I went in at 11 pm for, I had sufficiently explained that I wished to be there alone for the night. I wish to show you the room. He mumbled and of course, I couldn't exactly refuse. Having tipped him for the temporary loan of a chair and a table come in then and let's be quick. I said we went in, he shuffling after me through the unlighted hall up to the first floor where the murder had taken place and I prepared myself to hear his inevitable account before turning him out with half a crown, his persistence had earned. After lighting the gas, I sat down in the armchair. He had provided a faded brown plush armchair and turned for the first time to face him and get through his performance as quickly as possible. And it was in that instant, I got my first shot. The man was not the caretaker. It was not the old full carry. I had interviewed earlier in the day and made my plans with my heart, gave a horrid jump. Now, who are you? Pray? I said you are not Carrie, the man I arranged with this afternoon. Who are you? I felt uncomfortable as you may imagine. I was a psychological researcher and a young woman of new tendencies and proud of my liberty. But I did not care to find myself in an empty house with a stranger. Something of my confidence left me confidence with women, you know, has all humbug after a certain point or perhaps you don't know for most of you are men. But anyhow, my pluck ebbed in a quick rush and I felt afraid who are you? I repeated quickly and nervously, the fellow was well dressed, youngish and good looking. But with a face of great sadness, I myself was barely 30. I am giving you essentials or I would not mention it out of quite ordinary things. Come this story. I think that's why it has value. No, he said I'm the man who was frightened to death.