Audiobook Sample - Drifting Gloom

Profile photo for Elise Taff
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0:00
Audiobooks
300
2

Vocal Characteristics

Language

English

Voice Age

Young Adult (18-35)

Accents

North American (General)

Transcript

Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
serene woodlands surround us with an invigorating charge of natural energy. I gaze up at the stars beyond the wavering branches while reclining on the ground with my back against a log. My hair's fanned out behind me over the pile of jackets I'm using as a cushion, a few stray wisps draped over my face. Saturday's almost over already, and despite the tranquility of Miller's Vania State Park, a chip of discontentment needles away at my thoughts. I don't want the weekend to be over already. It felt like this camping trip took forever toe happen, since I had been waiting on it for over a month. Yet it's passed in the blink of an eye. Caisse relaxes at my right. One leg stretched out, one foot tucked in a bottle of some craft beer dangles from his fingers, his arm draped over the peak of his knee. He and Owen had been discussing putting in a hot tub at our place. My best friend's husband owns a smallish plumbing company, but Caisse isn't angling for a deal. He'd rather help a little guy feed his son than help a CEO by another Lear jet. I can't believe it's almost Sunday already feels like we just got here, says Isabel, before taking a small sip from her beer. Her cringe is subtle, but noticeable, at least to me. Of course, I've been trained to pick up on subtle reactions. She's not much of a beer drinker, Isabelle, or is. He usually goes for those Foo Foo fruity type drinks that look all sorts of innocent but will still knock you on your ***. No kidding. Oh, and Jahn's. At least we don't need to wake up early tomorrow. A beautiful weekend with beautiful people, says Caisse, raising his plastic cup in toast. Not wanting to sit up from my extreme lounge, I waive my cup in the air while the others all lean close to tap cups to Isabel's bottle. You asleep yet asks. Is he no perfectly comfortable? I wink. As far as this craft beer goes, it's okay. The guy who brewed it is one of Lohan's friends from his work, but I haven't met the guy more than once or twice. He only brought four bottles, but there the fat, reusable kind, each one containing a different brew. We're drinking it mostly to sample the taste and sharing each one is he got the last serving of wanderlust, so she's nursing it right from the bottle. Noah, Isabel's three year old son, meanders across our little campsite to the fire somewhere within the past half hour, his shoes, socks and pants have disappeared, leaving him with underpants and a T shirt. I can't fault the kid for ditching the shoes, except for the hike we took earlier. Chiasson. I did the same as soon as we left the city behind. There's nothing like the feel of nature under my toes toe lift me to another place far beyond the worries of daily life.