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Project Main Details

This is the story of a woman who is tortured by plans to dispose of her philandering husband.

The voice-over actor is requested to read 3 or 4 lines of the script as a sample. 
2014-01-02 13:36:06 GMT
2014-01-20 13:00:00 (GMT -05:00) Eastern Time (US & Canada) 
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0 direct invitation(s) have been sent by the voice seeker resulting in 0 audition(s) and/or proposal(s) so far.
Voice123 SmartCast is seeking 25 auditions and/or proposals for this project (approx.) Invitations sent by SmartCast have resulted in 1 audition(s) and/or proposal(s) so far.

Project Parameters

The Voice Actor should be located in:
Student or Non-for-profit student project - USD $250
15 minutes
English - USA and Canada
Middle Age Female
• Audio files must be delivered via FTP/Dropbox/Google Drive/cloud
There are no special pre-, post-, or production requirements for this project.
The Voice Actor should have at least 1 years of experience in the voice industry.
This is a non-union project

Script Details

This is the story of a woman who is tortured by plans to dispose of her philandering husband. 
SLEEPWALKER (complete script)

I have a career woman in her forties. I inherited some money which allowed me to buy a boutique. Me and my husband live in a nice upper-class home, which I bought under my name, in a quaint little village by the seaside. I am successful in my business. Actually, I make more money than my husband. But I have some worries. I can't sleep at night. I am a sleepwalker. So they tell me. I walk arms a little outstretched with a blank look in my eyes. I go around the corridors of our house looking around, checking closets and drawers. Sometimes I'm gesticulating to myself; sometimes I just displace objects. Nothing as far-fetched as walking on the rooftop, mind you. It's pretty harmless, if you ask me. One time, however, in the middle of winter, I went knocking on my neighbour's door in my nightgown, walking slowly and not feeling a thing. When he opened the door, I had my arms opened, like offering myself. That came as a shock to him, I can tell you. Another time, I walked right in my elderly housemaid's room and started going through her drawers, like they were mine. Fran was a good friend. But I had woken her up and she was stupefied. She caught me going through her things. I know I do all this because she and my husband told me they saw me sleepwalking many times.

My main worry is that my husband is unfaithful to me. Although he denies it, I know he sees other women in town. Many other women. That keeps him very, very busy. I followed him a few times. There is no doubt he was with those women. I even confronted him about it, but of course he denied everything. He tells me about business appointments when I know it's otherwise. It must be hard to sync up all the lies he tells me and keep a straight face. I don't know how he does it. But now I've had it. I still love him but I can't stand his philandering any more. It tears me apart, depriving me of sleep. I know he's not going to change. And the weird thing is: the more unfaithful he is to me, the more I love him. It's a vicious circle. So lately I started thinking of killing him, not mainly as revenge but to alleviate the terrible heartache. At least, with him dead, he won't be able to hurt me any more. As an excuse, I'll just say I was sleepwalking when I killed him. Denial of responsibility. Who knows? I'll probably won't do any jail time. Weirder things have happened in the legal system.

One night I had decided to do sort of a rehearsal to see if I could do it. I was brushing my teeth when I heard his car approaching. He saw me in the widow as he was getting out of his car, like he knew I was waiting for him. I heard him going up the stairs. He popped his face in my bedroom window, like I knew he would do, and I somewhat pretended indifference when I acknowledged him. We half-smiled at each other. I waved. He responded with one of his grand farcical salutes. We really didn't have anything to say to each other. We were playing a game. I didn't feel he really wanted me. But, even though I wanted him, but I wasn't going to let him touch me under the circumstances.

So we were living in separate bedrooms. His was in the attic. That was where he did his thing, whatever it was. Officially, he's unemployed. We agreed when I bought the house that we would pay the mortgage together, but he never seems to come up with any money. When we first met, three years ago, he was a promising accountant in a big firm. But then he quit his job and now he's into some shady dealings, like drug smuggling once in a while. He might be on drugs himself, but he doesn't tell me anything about it. I'm afraid he's going to bring some heat on us. He tells me it's only temporary until he makes it. Yes, he has artistic pretensions. He's into music with some friends. He's even recorded an album. He tells me he's going to be big. I'm afraid I married a dreamer. I really don't know what he wants from me any more. I don't know why he's living with me. And I can't kick him out. I'm too emotionally dependent.

I could hear his footsteps on the floor above. I was in a turmoil over the decision to do away with him. Then suddenly he came down to get some food from the kitchen. I had been too overwhelmed to predict him coming down. The door was half opened. I was almost crawling on the floor from the torment. Yes, it was up to that point. I was literally torn apart. And I inadvertently let him see me in that humiliating condition. Now he was down in the kitchen. He's eight years younger than me and he eats a lot when he's here. Like I said, he's away often, either with his musician friends or his lovers. But I shut the door on him when he came back up, to re-affirm, I suppose, a pretension of independence. He went back upstairs and went to sleep. I watched TV for a while, then I couldn't help but surreptitiously go up to check on him. He was sleeping like a baby. That night I didn't really think I was ever going to have the nerve to kill him.

About a week later, I was daydreaming in front of the TV when I heard the back door open and close. I went to look. He was going up a neighbour's stairs and going in the house. I knew that neighbour and, by the way she opened the door without him even knocking, I knew he wasn't going there by chance. That got me really suspicious. I wanted to know more about him. That incident gave me the audacity to snoop on his emails on our office computer. He had an account of which I had gathered the password but never had the nerve to use. The things I saw! In crude terms, he was telling one of his lovers how I had become a nuisance to him and how he was figuring out, because of my sleepwalking, a way to get at my money by certifying me insane. He talked about consulting a lawyer or a psychiatrist to see if that was legally possible. After learning this, I made quite a scene. From then on, for me there was no more hesitation. That clenched it.

I grabbed the revolver he bought for me from a drawer. It was about 4:00 AM. My decision was made. I just had to consolidate my resolve. I put the revolver in a handbag. To give me an alibi, I had decided to pass through the housemaid's room so she could testify that I was sleepwalking. I had to take my precautions, legally. Then I was going to go to the attic to shoot him point blank. But there was yet a little surprise coming to me. When I came in Fran's room, he was cosily in bed with HER, my own geriatric personal maid! That was the last thing I expected to see. That was beyond the pale. Right then and there, I saw red: I just pulled the trigger four times in a row.

Then I woke up. 
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