Генератор голосов AI Imperfect Cell от Fish Audio

Dear Mom, we're holed up in an old church now. The bells still ring every hour, though nobody's touched them in weeks. Anderson got hit yesterday - he'll make it, but they're sending him home. The nights are the worst. The waiting. Always the waiting.

The city breathes differently at night. I move through its veins like a whispered secret, a necessary evil in service to order. Some call me monster, others savior. Truth is, I'm neither – just a shadow doing what shadows must.

The shadows stretch wide, wide across the gray world. We fade as the silence takes hold, cold and heavy. It pulls us down, deep into the quiet. The mist returns, drifting, always drifting, until the dark covers everything we once knew.

The walls whisper tonight. 312 steps from my bed to the window. I watch shadows dance like they used to. My hands shake. The memories flood back, bitter and sharp. Someone's laughter echoes down the hall. Not real. Never real anymore.

Darkness descends upon the city streets as ancient evils awaken. The concrete jungle trembles with untold dangers, while citizens cower in fear. But in the depths of this urban nightmare, a new guardian prepares to rise, ready to face the coming storm.

Seriously? Another save point? You’re more paranoid than my ex-wife. Look, I’m just trying to finish my damn errands without every freak in this town jumping me. If I have to use this shotgun to get through the line for milk, I will. I regret absolutely nothing.

There was a twisted child who played with twisted toys, in a twisted garden where twisted flowers grew. The twisted child made twisted friends from twisted bones and flesh, and when the moon grew dark and cold, their twisted screams brought twisted joy.

What's that you're holding there, been waiting how long for this moment? Could be nothing, could be everything. Time doesn't move like you think it does. Seventeen years or seventeen seconds, makes no difference when you're counting what can't be counted.