Tags:
dramatic read
female voice
devil voice
scary voice
narration
thirties voice
30~apos;s voice
child~apos;s voice
Script:
I can't put up with this any longer. There's something wrong. It hurts. Just get it out of me. Get it out of me. Give her pethidine. That one innocent injection, that one shot hurtled through my veins and I could barely see, hardly open my eyes. After it was over, you left us in what seemed like an abandoned factory. I didn't know where I was. Exhausted, I lay there with him beside me. Then he called to me. Sarah, Sarah, come over here. Look what I can do. Watch this. You can talk. You can speak, but babies don't speak. That's amazing. You can really talk. I can. We're telepathic, you and I. You can hear me every word, crystal clear. Look, I'll prove it to you. Watch this. See what I can do. Emerald green. Now kneel down and worship me. Bow down to your god, your ruler. You must do exactly whatever I demand. You must promise to serve me. I promise. Just tell me what you want. I'll do anything for you. I saw the hands on the clock suddenly move a whole half hour in a second, and as I looked down at him, bright yellow eyes stared up at me, bright yellow with slits down them like lizards. You're the devil. I've given birth to the devil. I flushed him down the toilet and drowned him. I couldn't let him live, could I?
Tags:
Old Lady
Monologue
Dramatic
emotive
sad
spooky
Script:
Come, child, and sit near my chair, And I'll tell you of the night of the woods And the bear, of the woods and the wind, And the bear and the fur. See, she skipped down the path, golden braids In her hair, paying no mind to the woods Nor the bear, the bear who, stalking, Stomped through the trees, crunching and Tromping through crisp fallen leaves. Come close, listen well, and you'll hear What befell our flaxen-haired maiden As she rounded the swell of the creek's bubbling Banks, trilling swiftly along on the wind In the night. You can still hear the song that she sung On that day, as she skipped through the woods, Her arms heavy-laden with a basket of goods. Oh, how they ached, weighted down with such treasure, Just there, a short stump, she could Rest for a measure, as the brook swept along And the wind sang her song. I think you can guess who came tromping along. A sad tale, I'm afraid, though it didn't take long For the bear to come by and steal her Sweet song, and all that was left as the water Rushed by was her cloak on a branch As the wind whipped a sigh. The sun dipping low, the woods howled their warning. Take care, they cried out, as though still in mourning For the bouncing curls that no longer were, For the woods and the wind and the bear and the fur.