Fiction YA Audiobook Reading
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
British (General) Irish (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
I told a story when I was 10 years old, it was just after summer break. My best friend was a girl named Tracy whose clothes were always freshly ironed. When Tracy got back from summer break, she told me she had met a new friend at camp, I didn't go to camp, I didn't meet a new friend. So I told Tracy something else. I told her I'd met a girl named Aaron Aaron who rode horses and swam all year round. She goes to a different school I said and she lives on my street just a few houses down. And I wrote letters and told Tracy they were from Aaron and I had my picture taken with my horrible cousin and I showed Tracy told her it was Aaron and then one day I told her Aaron wasn't at home anymore. I told her erin's mother had said Aaron was sick the day after that I dressed in black and I told Tracy that Aaron was dead. Tracy cried and she cried to her mother and she cried to her teacher who took me to the counselor's office and asked what had happened and I told the whole story over again because I liked I like see what I can do, I blink and my mother is at the window, there's a window and my mother is there in blue like morning thought we were past this, she says we were and sometimes we still are but there is annoying in my heart, I cannot get out the window shuts and disappears and my mother gets taller and taller. We're very disappointed, She says her head brushing the ceiling, disappointed, disappointed, disappointed. Usually it was an accident, a lie. I never set out to tell a trick. I never meant to play. I'd open my mouth and something strange would come out new and not mine. Like there was someone else inside. I'm sorry. I tell my parents whenever something I'd made came crashing down. I never wanted to hurt anyone and sometimes I meant it. But sometimes I didn't anger depth liss and black. I couldn't cut it out of me growing and growing until it was all I had room for go to rack stir my mother said start again. And I tried but we all have things we're good at. I don't miss talking. I thought I would. But it's so easy this way, the smallest word written down and they'll build a version of me in their head sounding just the right way meaning just the right thing. Half my work done for me. When Perretta comes back I see her shape through the curtain around my bed. I see her stop in the doorway and I see her hesitate like she's remembering what I did but then she's pulling back the curtain and it's the same patched up blue suit, the same faintly patterned mask. I wonder if they have any spares or if the other doctors had to stitch up the tears. I scratched in theirs. Good morning. She says. My hands are strapped down, can't reach for the white board. Perretta props against the bed. Can't do anything but give her a thumbs up and I certainly won't be doing that. Do you know what a resonant frequency is? I raised my eyebrows. What a way to start the day?