Commercial/Animation/Young Adult samples
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Hello and thank you for calling Cedar Oasis Luxury Spa, your dream spa retreat. If you know the extension of the spot personnel you'd like to speak with, you can enter it at any time to speak with massage therapy. Please press one now for our facials and skin care experts, please press two. If you'd like to speak with our mud bath and wrap specialists, please press three or press zero to speak with main reception. Please hold while we transfer your call. This call will be recorded for quality assurance. The stone is what I'm here for and you know it's rightfully mine. Keeping it hidden for me any longer is only going to bring harm to everyone in the kingdom. Where is the rest of it? Great. Is this a riddle? Just what I need right now this isn't the last you'll be seeing of me. I can guarantee that next time it's right down to business. We asked kids, teens, parents and grand parents from all over America to tell us what comes to mind when they think of this time of year time. It's what matters most this holiday season, wishing you a happy holiday filled with time well spent from your friends at celestial watches. Make every moment count. These kids air the pickiest eaters. I'm worried my little ones aren't getting the vitamins in their diet that they need. I sometimes get away with hiding the occasional carrot in a casserole that they'll actually eat, but it doesn't happen often enough. My doctor recommended Vita fun. Children's vitamins. They're gummy and delicious, and my kids just love hm. Now they get a snack, and I get the reassurance that they're full of the vitamins they need now have only adult vitamins worth this delicious. We're on a flat, open stretch of ground, a plain of hard packed dirt behind the tributes across from me. I can see nothing indicating either a steep downward slope or even a cliff to my right, Liza Lake to my left and back, sparse Piney woods. This is where hey, Mitch would want me to go immediately. Here's instructions in my head just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others and find a source of water. But it's tempting, so tempting when I see the bounty waiting there for me and I know that if I don't get it, someone else will. That the career tributes who survived the bloodbath will divide up most of these life sustaining spoils. Something catches my eye. They're resting on a mound of blanket rolls is a silver sheaf of arrows and a bow already strong, just waiting to be engaged. That's mine. I think it's meant for me. I'm fast. I can spread faster than any of the girls in our school, although a couple can beat me in distance races. But this 40 yard length, this is what I'm built for. I know I can get it. I know I can reach it first. But then the question is, How quickly can I get out of there by the time of scrambled up the packs and grab the weapons? Others will have reached the horn and one or two I might be able to pick off. But say there's a dozen at that close range. They could take me down with spears in the clubs or their own powerful fists. Still, I won't be the only target. Embedding many of the other tributes would pass up a smaller girl, even one who scored in 11 and training to take out their more fierce adversaries. Hey, Mitch has never seen me run. Maybe if he had, he'd tell me to go for it. Get the weapon. Since that's the very weapon that might be my salvation. And I only see one bow in that whole pile. I know the minute must be almost up, and I'll have to decide what my strategy will be. And I find myself positioning my feet to run not away into the surrounding forests, but towards the pile towards the bow, when suddenly I noticed Pita. He's about five tributes to my right, quite a fair distance. Still, I can tell he's looking at me, and I think he might be shaking his head. But the sons in my eyes. And while I'm puzzling over it, the gong rings out and I've missed it. I've missed my chance because those extra couple of seconds I've lost by not being ready are enough to change my mind about going in my feet. Shuffle for a moment, confused at the direction my brain wants to take, and then I lunge forward, scoop up the sheet of plastic and a loaf of bread. The pickings air so small. And I'm so angry with Peter for distracting me that I sprint in 20 yards to retrieve a bright orange backpack that could hold anything because they can't stand leaving with virtually nothing. A boy, I think from District nine reaches the pack at the same time I dio, and for a brief time we grapple for it. And then he coughs, splattering my face with blood. I stagger back, repulsed by the warm, sticky spray. Then the boy slips to the ground. That's when I see the knife in his back. Already, other tributes have reached the cornucopia and are spreading out to attack. Yes, the girl from district to 10 yards away running towards me, one hand clutching 1/2 a dozen knives. I've seen her throw in training. She never misses, and I am her next target. All the general fear I've been feeling condenses into an immediate fear of this girl, this predator who might kill me in seconds. Adrenaline shoots through me, and I swing the pack over one shoulder and run full speed for the woods. I could hear the blade whistling towards me and reflexively hike the pack up to protect my head The blade lodges in the pack both straps on my shoulders Now I make for the trees Somehow I know the girl will not pursue me That shall be drawn back into the cornucopia Before all the good stuff is gone A grin crosses my face Thanks for the knife, I think.