Audiobook Sample - Dreamy, Poetic Narrator - Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor
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.
Strange. The Dreamer by Laney Taylor. Prologue On the second Sabit of 12th Moon in the city of Wheat, a girl fell from the sky. Her skin was blue, her blood was red. She broke over an iron gate, crimping it on impact. And there she hung and possibly arched. Graceful is a temple dancer swooning on a lover's arm. One slick, filial, anchored her in place. It's point protruding from her sternum, glittered like approach. She fluttered briefly as her ghost shook loose and torched ginger buds rained out of her long hair. Later, they would say these had been hummingbird hearts and not blossoms at all. They would say she hadn't shed blood, but wept it that she was lewd, tugging her teeth at them, upside down and dying that she had vomited a serpent that turned into smoke. When I hit the ground, they would say, a flock of malls came frantic and tried to lift her away. That was true, only that they hadn't a prayer, though the moths were no bigger than the startled mouths of Children, and even dozens together could only pluck at the strands of her darkening hair until the wings sagged sodden with her blood. They were pearl away with the blossoms as a great choked gust came blasting down the street. The earth heaved underfoot, the sky spun on its axis. A queer brilliance landed through billowing smoke, and the people of weep had to squint against it, blowing grit and hot light on the stink of salt Peter there than an explosion. They might have died all and easily, but only this girl had shaken from some pocket of the sky. Her feet were bare, her mouth stained dams in her pockets were all full of plums. She was young and lovely and surprised and dead. She was also blue. Blue is opals, pale blue, bluest cornflowers or dragon fly wings or a spring not summer sky. Someone screamed. The scream drew others, the other screamed to not because the girl was dead, but because the girl was blue. And that meant something Here in the city of weep. Even after the sky stopped reeling and the earth settled on, the last fumes spluttered from the blast site and dispersed. The screams went on, feeding themselves from voice to voice, A virus of the air, the blue girls ghost gathered itself and perched bereft upon the spear point tip of the projecting Phileo, just a INGE above her own still chest. Gasping in shock, she tilted back her invisible head and gazed mournfully up. The screams went on and on and across the city, atop a monolithic wedge of seamless mirror smooth metal, a statue stirred as though awakened by the tumult and slowly lifted its great horned head.