Gerador de Voz AI Free None Left to Take por Fish Audio
Gere voz None Left to Take confiável por mais de 0+ criadores. Crie fala Masculino, Meia Idade, Narração com texto para fala por IA.
Amostras - None Left to Take
Ouça amostras de geração mostrando qualidade de voz e versatilidade
Default Sample
Amostra 1
They keep saying hold on, just hold on. Hold on to what, exactly? I've got nothing in my hands, nothing at all. Not a scrap, not a thread. How can I hold on when there's nothing left to take? It's all gone, vanished, just like that. Why bother?
Default Sample
Silence speaks in whispers we rarely hear, lost in the noise of our busy lives. But when we pause, when we truly listen, we discover the symphony of stillness. In quietness, we find ourselves, our truth, our essence flowing like gentle streams.
Default Sample
Detective Morris smirks as he plants the evidence, his badge gleaming under fluorescent lights. The young lawyer's eyes widen in horror, watching helplessly as Morris carefully arranges the drugs in her desk drawer. "Who will believe you over a decorated officer?" he whispers, closing the drawer with calculated precision.
Sample Transcriptions
Default Sample - Amostra 1
They keep saying hold on, just hold on. Hold on to what, exactly? I've got nothing in my hands, nothing at all. Not a scrap, not a thread. How can I hold on when there's nothing left to take? It's all gone, vanished, just like that. Why bother?
Default Sample - dramatica
Silence speaks in whispers we rarely hear, lost in the noise of our busy lives. But when we pause, when we truly listen, we discover the symphony of stillness. In quietness, we find ourselves, our truth, our essence flowing like gentle streams.
Default Sample - narration AI Stories
Detective Morris smirks as he plants the evidence, his badge gleaming under fluorescent lights. The young lawyer's eyes widen in horror, watching helplessly as Morris carefully arranges the drugs in her desk drawer. "Who will believe you over a decorated officer?" he whispers, closing the drawer with calculated precision.
Default Sample - Storytelling
Sarah Morgan notices her son Tommy's strange new habit of talking to his reflection. At first, she thinks it's childhood imagination, until one night she catches a glimpse of his mirror-self moving independently. The reflection smiles at her, but Tommy isn't smiling.
Default Sample - story dark
The old Victorian mansion stood silent against the pewter sky, its weathered shutters hanging like broken wings. By morning of December 21, 1923, the Henderson family had vanished, leaving only cold teacups and an ancient music box still spinning its haunting melody.
Default Sample - Old Flat Monotone
The gentle moon, thus did I spy, pale thief of night, who stole thy silver from my love's fair face. Upon the darkened sky, thy borrowed light doth trace her features sweet, while stars in jealous grace do dim their shine, for thou art lovelier still.
Default Sample - Untold Stories
In 1975, Sarah Miller opened a charming flower shop in Boston. Her arrangements were stunning, and customers loved her creative touch. But when people started noticing all her best flowers grew in the local cemetery, they discovered her midnight gardening wasn't exactly legal.
Default Sample - jhon deep
Moses, yeah, a shepherd in the wilderness, tending his flock beneath the scorching sun. Then suddenly, before him stands a bush, burning yet not consumed. Who was he to lead an exodus? But sometimes, yeah, the most profound callings find us in our most ordinary moments.
Default Sample - Deep
The fog rolled in just before sunset, thick and white like cotton. The old lighthouse stood alone on the rocky shore, its paint peeling in long strips. Sarah watched from her bedroom window as the beam cut through the mist, wondering what secrets it kept.
Default Sample - Cala
Moonlight whispers through autumn leaves, dear one, painting shadows on your restless soul. Will these silver tears dissolve into morning light, or remain frozen like stars in winter's embrace?
Default Sample - 1
I've seen this type of mushi before. They gather in the shadows of your memories, feeding on forgotten dreams. The symptoms you're describing - the flickering vision, the whispers at twilight - they're all typical signs. Let me help you understand what's happening.
Default Sample - Feeble Fable OR Motherlode of Truth
He whispered a story, a stagnant story of silence. I stood still, searching for the core, the cold core of his motherlode. Could it be a fracture in the foundation? A feeble fable of forgotten faces, or a golden truth breaking through the fragile, fabricated festivities.
Default Sample - calen
Every night I wait for the stars to tell me where you've gone, Lena. The world feels empty without your light, and the silence keeps pulling me back to the time when your hand was in mine. I'm still drifting in the wake of our goodbye.
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