Read Text Aloud Novels & Stories

Alice asked suddenly, bouncing slightly in his arms. He glanced at the shelf, then down at her. “Which one? The one with the animals?” Alice nodded vigorously. “Yes! Animals!” He set her on the floor and picked up the book. His voice changed, softer, gentler, as he read. He made different voices for each animal—the elephant’s deep trumpet, the monkey’s high chatter. Alice howled with laughter at the monkey, clapping her little hands. I stepped closer, drawn in despite myself. “You’re really good at that,” I said quietly.

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.

George asked warily. ‘Yeah! Some mutes also have the disability to hear, right?’ “He is only unable to speak, but he can hear you will,” the man answered, scratching his head. “He will respond and tell you anything he wants to say through text on his phone and show you the screen to read them,” he continued to explain.

Sophie. Morning. Hope you survived the gala and Carter’s temper. Sending you some links—audio books and podcasts. Not just Pilates, but history, politics, even Austen. You don’t need paper to learn, Amber. There are other ways. The words doubled and slid. I could read, I always could, but when nerves were bad the letters fought me, mocking. I tapped the text-to-speech icon. The phone’s voice was flat, but at least it didn’t laugh when my brain twisted words. Wellness. Pilates basics. U.S. history. Austen. Relief spread through me so fast I almost laughed.

He’s holding a bat. "Stop them!" he yells, charging up the steps. "Don't stop," I command Alex. "Unity Protocol," Echo announces. "Empathy Network: Broadcast." Echo hits the switch. The wave hits the square. Everyone with a phone—everyone with a smart watch, a pacemaker, a hearing aid—feels it. They feel me. They feel the warmth of Alex’s skin. The crushing safety of the ropes. The blinding, white-hot purity of the love between us.

It read. \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

I ask curiously as I pick it up and hold it delicately in my fingers. "It's a recording, of me reading the entire book of Pride and Prejudice out loud" He explains with a wide grin. "I just figured that since it's your comfort book and there comes a time where I'm not there with you when you need me, maybe it would be something you'd want to listen to" His words make my eyes start to well up with tears. Rhode's voice has brought me so much comfort the past few years, hearing him talking is enough to soothe almost any anxiety that I have. I've asked him many times to read aloud to me if I'm having a rough time or I can't sleep and he's always done it without complaint or hesitation. But if he

I took another deep breath, my heart racing with anticipation. Pulling out my phone, I logged into my text-to-speech app and began writing. I hated communicating this way because it was time-consuming. However, with Gavin, I couldn't sign. I had to do it this way. "Gavin, I need to ask you something," the mechanical voice read my words aloud. Quickly, I reduced the volume to avoid being overheard. Gavin's eyes locked onto mine, his expression serious. "What is it, Lyric?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

His line rang in my ear. He picked up in one ring. "You just sent me a text," he said. I tapped once. I heard the faint sound of him reading it. My name is Ava Arande. I'm mute. I can hear everything you say. I'll communicate by text while we talk. Please don't hang up. A beat of silence. "That's an unusual request." I was already typing the next message and I sent it. Most of my requests are unusual, that's not the one you should be focusing on right now.

Julian slammed his hand onto the console. The world went Black. But in the darkness, a single, analog sound began to play. Hiss. Click. Whir. It was the 1977 Cassette Tape. And then, a new voice spoke—a voice that was deep, ancient, and sounded like it was coming from Inside your own head. "Chapter 146: The Reader’s Audit. Warning: By continuing to read, you are consenting to a Physical Transfer of Assets. Please check your pulse. Does it feel... Digital?"