Excerpt: The Nowhere Girl by Nicole Trope
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
AustralianTranscript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
please, she whispers to quietly, for anyone to hear. Please, she whispers again. Please help. But there is no one. Where is everyone? They should, because filled with people, that's what she's careful. Cars filled with people help should be racing up the road, screeching to a stop. Help should be here, but it's not. Help. Is is far away as ever been. The road remains empty, a long stretch of darkness leading nowhere. She touches her damp shake, swit tears. The heat is heavy, sticky, refusing to let go, despite the day ending hours ago. Despite it being another day already, she wants to turn around. She wants to run back back to where it's safe, but it would mean running back through the years. You can't run back to your past. A truck appears huge with more wheels than she can count. Her heart lifts, but the vehicle thunders by sending bits of gravel flying into the air, leaving behind it the smell of burnt rubber. The driver is only looking forward, staring at the empty road ahead of him. It would be better if it was a woman, anyway, a woman, a woman who can think for herself would help, but a man might hurt. She is so tired, tired, scared, heartbroken. She wishes she knew how to not feel anything at all. Her knee's aching. Now she feels old. She's too young to feel this old, to know this much, to be doing what she's doing. She would like to turn around to run back home. Home. She thinks such a nice word. For most people, it means family and love and comfort, but not for her. For me, she whispers. She has no home. She has a house where other people live, other people who hurt her or ignore her other people who don't deserve Children. That's why she's doing this. That's why it has to happen. Where are all the people in their cars? A sleek sports car appears going so fast it takes her breath away. By the time she realises it's there, it's passed by. It might have been blue or black. It's difficult to tell. With only the street lights on. Please help, she prays, knowing it wouldn't do any good. She swats at a mosquito and wipes her face again. She feels like she's been here forever. But finally, finally another car appears going slowly enough to see to register What's there. It stops. A woman climbs out, young and wobbly on high spiked heels. That clip clop against the Tom back. Bright pink hair shines in the street light. She taught us over, swaying as she walks. Is she drunk? The little girl wonders. Drunk isn't good. Drunk means you stop thinking about anyone else. Stop feeling for anyone else she cannot deal with drunk. Not again. She begins to stand up. But then the woman speaks. Are you like lust? She asks, her voice. Soft and sweet. You lost. And then she turns and looks back at the car she has just gotten out ofthe. We need to call the police! She yells at the unseen driver. Come on, she says, holding out her hand. The little girl slips her hand into the strangers. She lets out the breath she's been holding. She's done it. She's actually done it