Practice Voice Acting Scripts Novels & Stories

I felt scared and disoriented, wandering aimlessly in the darkness. Suddenly, I heard a voice—the same voice I’d heard on my first day at school. “Hello! Hello, who’s there?” I called out, but the voice didn’t respond. Instead, more voices joined in, chanting, “Prisca, the new moon will reveal the truth. Open your heart, open your soul, and the power within you will unveil your gift. Your gift will protect the unseen, the hidden.”

Not a smile, but the eyebrow moved, that counted for something, right? [System Progress: 3% toward laughter goal.] “Three percent? What am I, a clown?” [Correction: You are Secretary Rivera, temporary fake boyfriend and current resident disaster.] I glared at the invisible voice. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” [Affirmative.] Dream looked up from his tablet. “Who are you talking to?” “Myself,” I said quickly. “I like to do morning pep talks. Helps with productivity.” “Try silence. It works better.”

A mellifluous, feminine voice that reminded me of Rachel Weisz drew my attention. I blinked as I realized it was Shikoba. Well, not her directly, but it came from the phone in her right hand while she pointed to the bathroom with her left. So that’s the programmed voice Jonathan used for her text-to-speech program. It’s much better quality than most would get from such an app. I’m glad he didn’t give her some generic computerized voice. You’d probably believe she was speaking if she’d moved her lips with the words. “I… I don’t need to use the restroom. Miss Fayte was teasing.” Rohan looked even redder as he finally stepped out of the elevator, or more so, was yanked out by Jonathan.

ROSE POV We walk into the studio, hand in hand, Excited for our voice-over session, in a magical land. Roman squeezes my hand, with a grin so wide, "Can't believe we're finally doing this," Roman says with pride. Me too, I smile back, feeling happy and free, We're seated in the recording booth, just you and me. Headphones on, script in front, we're ready to go, Roman leans in, whispers, "Remember that wedding scene, don't you know?"

I thought for a second. Then I began dictating. “Have him say this.” Mr. Smith turned toward me. “You realize what you’re about to unleash, right?” “Yeah,” I said calmly. “That’s the point.” Sam waited. I spoke slowly so the system would capture every word perfectly. “Begin recording.” A soft tone signaled the start. “Say this,” I continued. “My name is Charles Rothschild.” Sam synthesized the line instantly, playing it back through the speakers. The voice was identical.

“Damn it, Daniels! Your script sucks, and it’s corny!” “F*ck! Who asked for my help, huh? Huh?! Don’t call me again to do shitty stuff like this!” A male voice was heard. It looked like it was coming from a call put on speaker. Sicilia and Maya looked at each other with confusion and worry.

Suddenly, I’ve lost my appetite. When she’s finished, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and leans back. “Alright,” she says. “I’m ready to talk now.” I clear my throat, my mind scrambling to find the right words. I’d rehearsed this in my head on the way here—a carefully crafted statement that felt professional and convincing. But now, sitting across from her, the script in my head feels flimsy and inadequate. “I’m a friend of Lucas Martinez,” I say.

“Yes, it’ll challenge you, but it’ll thrill you. We’re working right at the edge of pioneering research and we want to take you on that roller coaster with us.” I glare at him. He’s tragic. First of all, that’s not the script. Second, where has that fake “sexy” voice come from? Third, he’s now rolling up his sleeves, as though he’s some sort of rugged, pharmaceutical-research version of Indiana Jones. He really shouldn’t. His forearms are all white and veiny. “If you want an adventure in life …” He pauses for effect and practically growls, “Then this is the place to start.”

A man's voice. Breaking.

The streetlights flickered above, casting long, lonely shadows across the empty road. No people. No cars. “Help!” I cried louder, my voice breaking. This is your karma, Atarah. My legs began to give out, but I forced myself to keep walking, step after painful step. My vision darkened. My body weakened. “I can’t… do this anymore… Lord… please…” My knees finally gave in. And as my body hit the cold ground— Everything went black.