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BintangFortuna

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Bintang Fortuna 2

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1400-1500 words. Prompt: The Holy Grail has finally been found...at a flea market in Nebraska." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Useless crap. All of it. Robin was pissed. Frankly, he’s been pissed for the last six months since his wife died. She was the one that collected all of this crap. Robin collected tractors and tractor equipment.\n\nHe didn’t really like farming. He couldn’t care less about how the crops grew or soil. He did know, of course, the best adjustment to a harrow to dig in soil that was waterlogged. He just would rather spend the day fixing the tractor than driving it. Robin was a smart man but was incredibly lazy.\n\nThey had met at the University of Nebraska. Robin was wasting time after the army. Judy was working on her post-graduate studies, with a focus on religious history. Judy was simply brilliant. Her master thesis was still consulted.\n\nThere was talk of her continuing her studies at a slightly more prestigious university. Sadly, at least for her studies, she met Robin and fell in love. They married once the bump on her stomach became apparent.\n\nRobin and his wife had bought a farm forty years ago. Both liked that it had so many outbuilding. Robin could use it to store his tractors. Judy could use a few to store things she collected. Robin never quite understood her fascination with all these items. All religious in nature. Judy would attend any estate sale she could find where a former priest or religious official died. She had traveled to New York City and even to Mexico. She would receive packages from across the world. Robin never collected the mail and always failed to see the stack of letters she would receive from across the world. In the late 90s, Judy got herself a computer and emails replaced the letters.\n\nIn all honesty, Robin and Judy’s marriage was actually quite lovely. They both loved each other deeply. While Judy was dying, she would break down worried about how Robin would cope. Robin was there for her every single need. Since her death, there were very few nights where Robin would fall asleep with dry eyes. That being said, Robin never paid attention to her regarding all the things she had collected.\n\nIt was spring-time and flea markets were popping up across the state. Robin had filled his trailer and was heading to one himself. He swore that none of this crap was coming back.\n\nDr. Luke Beeching was lost. He was told that driving in Nebraska would be easy as it was relatively flat and roads mostly followed the axis of North-South and East-West. Beeching had no idea how to use a GPS.\n\nAbout a year ago, he had received an email from one Judy Marquard in Nebraska, United States. Beeching, who purposefully never checked his email and pretended to avowed technology- except in matters pertaining to his porn habits- did not see this email. He didn’t until he had to search for an email from a colleague of his at Cambridge University. Her email mentioned Château de Montségur. He didn’t know the sender or why this person would have sent him an email mentioning the Château. He was shocked. In an email that was about three paragraphs long, this person had traced the history of the missing Holy Grail. And she attached photos. She also mentioned the name that Beeching had long-kept a secret. In his mind, that name was the key to tracking the grail and he would never give up that name so somebody could steal his life goal pf finding that grail.\n\nLlucià Scanlon was a priest that took the cloth after being a knight for twenty years. Beeching had his theory of how the knight-priest became the holder of the grail but in all of his years of research, he never heard another person mentioned his name in the same breath as the grail. He was flabbergasted that this random American woman had come across this. He had to find out how.\n\nTen months after her original email, and four months after she had died, Judy’s email finally got a response from Dr. Beeching. Now Beeching was without a reply. He would continue to email. He asked one of his students to track down this woman. He started calling. A man would pick up. When he asked for Judy, he would hang up. He would leave messages on the machine, but Robin never listened to the messages. He sent letters to their address. Robin never read the mail.\n\nFinally, Beeching decided he needed to go there himself. Off he went, and then he got lost.\n\nRobin wasn’t doing his best to display all the items. He left them in the boxes. Some of the stuff, he just dumped on the ground. Already a few vendors had come by before opening and bought a few crosses and rosaries. He sold a small wooden sculpture of the Virgin Mary. In his mind, it looked rather old. So he sold it for $10. The market opened and Robin continued to do a healthy business. With an hour to go, Robin still had half of the stuff remaining. He discounted heavily. Everything was a $1.\n\nIt was still early spring but the sun was up and it started feeling warm. Most vendors didn’t bring tents as there wasn’t a forecast for rain and most wanted to experience this early spring sun. There was a woman vendor next to Robin who was constantly moving, rearranging her items. Trying to get people to notice and buy something. She had been on her feet for the last five hours in the full sun. She had developed a coat of sweat and the start of a sunburn. While talking to another woman about a set of coffee cups that looked like kittens, the vendor fainted. She collapsed to the ground. Robin, while rather lazy, was not heartless and rushed over to the woman. Heatstroke was the cause, Robin thought. She would be fine if she got some shade and water. Robin helped her sit up next to a bloom-less tree. He went to get his jug of water. The coffee cups that looked like kittens were the closest drinking implements but the woman had already yelled at several people about people touching her items. Robin knew he had a cup in one of his boxes. He grabbed that cup and poured it full of water. The woman took a sip and Robin noticed that the woman’s face instantly cleared up. The woman remarked that she felt completely better. Still, Robin told her to sit for a bit longer. He left her with the cup.\n\nBeeching pulled into a church parking lot. He couldn’t figure out where he was and this parking lot was completely filled with people. He decided he would ask some people how to get to the house he was looking for. The first people he asked couldn’t understand his accent. There was a commotion at a nearby stand. Beeching remembered that he was needed to pick up some gifts for his family. His wife and kids would probably enjoy some typical classic Americana. He wondered for a bit. After searching, he came across a table that had set of four coffee cups that looked like kittens. He knew his wife would enjoy it. Beeching was quite pleased with himself. He never found anything his wife liked. He tried to attract the vendor but she was busy telling a person that she was feeling the best she ever felt. Beeching noticed that the vendor next door was already packing up.\n\nRobin was tried and was set to go home. He, no matter what he said, would throw any of Judy’s items away. He packed away the rest.\n\nBeeching finally got the attention of the vendor and purchased the cups. The vendor was able to give him directions to the house he was searching for.\n\nIn about an hour Robin and Dr. Beeching met at the farm. Robin allowed Beeching to go through all the items. Beeching showed him photos of this cup. Robin remembers seeing it but didn’t remember where. Robin was convinced that he didn’t sell it but otherwise was no help. Beeching spent hours searching the barn.\n\nAt nightfall, a train hopper by the name of Scan was walking by the church. He noticed that the trash can was remarkably full and went to investigate to see what he could find. All of it was crap, Scan thought and didn’t bother. The sky was cloudless and the stars were putting on quite a show. Scan went to a nearby tree to lean back and lookup. He put down his bag and sat down, his right hand finding something unexpected. It was a cup. A glorious looking cup, he thought. He had filled up his water jug just moments before and decided to make use of the cup.\n\nScan took a sip while looking at the stars and he never felt more alive than he did at that moment." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You live in a world where humans actually do get 3 wishes, one when you're 5, one when you're 10, and one when you're 20." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I wonder.\n\nI wonder how my life would've turned out if I had wished different wishes. I wonder how my life would turn out if I had a fourth wish. I've heard many people stating this. People, too immature at the time, wasting their precious wishes for nonsensical stuff that wasn't important to them anymore after a short period of time. Wasted opportunities. Regret, bigger than a person could ever manage to live with.\n\nWe had this guy at our school who wasted his 20 on getting back together with his ex. Their relationship stayed toxic though, and eventually they broke up again. Shortly after he took his own life.\n\nThen we have the people who still wish for a lot of money, no matter how much the government invests in informing them on the consequences. Worthless currencies, they raise and fall like the seasons.\n\nSo many people who didn't think and wished for stupid things.\n\nNot that I am much different - all of my wishes were spoken out of an impulse, but the difference was that I was lucky enough to be unlucky in specific ways.\n\nI remember my own 20. I was one of the worst students in university, no matter how much I learned, I just never could make any sense of what the professors were saying. I was studying so hard that year, worried that I might not make it through the exams. I was so focused on studying, hoping that I would somehow manage one way or another that I completely forgot about my own birthday, and thus my uttered words of 'I wish I wasn't so bad at learning' were granted to me.\n\nThat's another good thing about the gods I guess - they are benevolent. I didn't get only a little bit better with learning, instead I got a large jump in my abilites, I suddenly was able to learn every topic simply by reading about it one or two times. I doubt that I could've made a better wish, even if I had consciously tried.\n\nYes, I've always been lucky. The 20 was definitely a major turning-point in my life, it gave me so many opportunities.\n\nMy 10 was a bit different as well. Unlike the majority of children I didn't go for the standard 'I wish to be cool/beautiful'-wish. Considering that your normal looks are pretty much beautiful anyway, due to thousands of years of wish-guided genetics, I don't have to complain in that department (even if some people do look even more beautiful - but at some point it's just not that important anymore). I also didn't wish for a special job, didn't wish to be rich or famous, no, I, again, wished for something by pure accident.\n\nMy mother had accidentally eaten a slice of pie with nuts in it, which she is allergic too. I said \"I hope you get better.\" She got better, and of course, I first was really angry and disappointed about having 'wasted' my wish. But that changed the next time my mother was hospitalized. Turns out she had a large tumor in her brain, which - thanks to my wish - now started to fade away by itself.\n\nI never complained about 'wasting' my wish again.\n\nYes, both my 10 and my 20 did have long-lasting effects on my life. And if I had a fourth wish it'd maybe have an even greater impact on me than those two did. But I don't have a fourth wish, and that's perfectly okay. Because when I was 5, I met you.\n\nYou were funny and you knew far cooler games than I did. You didn't fear the older kids in kindergarten and you helped me find other friends.\n\nAnd that's why I wished we could stay friends forever.\n\nYou are the most important thing that ever happened to me, you are my most precious wish, you are what I never in my entire life want to lose.\n\nAnd because of that, even on the chance of sounding greedy, even though I know that no gods will be helping me this time, there is still a wish I want to make:\n\nWill you marry me?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 400-500 words. Prompt: A mage must go to the Undercity to retrieve their child because their vampire ex refuses to respect the custody agreement. The vampire insists the child grow up around their side of the family. Most officers are afraid to go the Undercity so it’s just the mage and a social worker." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The agreement was simple. She had Abby last weekend. It was summer, thankfully, so no school missed but...\n\n\"Mom? Are we... Not going back to Dads'?\"\n\nSarah's heart sank. She couldn't keep her from her father forever. Not without- there was a sharp rap on the door.\n\n\"Sarah open up please. You know this door won't stand in my w-\" He was silenced by a gentler voice.\n\n\"Sarah, may we come in and talk?\"\n\nThey sat at the kitchen table.\n\n\"Were you just gonna keep her down here?\"\n\n\"No, Erik, I wasn't-\"\n\n\"We signed an agreement. You get her for one week. You bring her back. You pick her up. I don't have to be seen crawling into the sewers you people call home...\"\n\nShe felt her lip curl back in disgust.\n\n\"You see? You see that? She's flashing her fangs!\"\n\n\"Mr. Drake please...Mrs D...\" The case worker fidgeted with a necklace.\n\n\"Miss,\" she interrupted, giving an apologetic smile, \"Miss Jones. But. Please. Call me Sarah.\"\n\n\"Sarah... You know the agreement. You have to follow it or the city and the court are empowered to take your daughter away indefinitely.\"\n\nSarah was practically in tears, \"I know. I know I know I know... But it's not fair.\"\n\n\"It's perfectly fair,\" Erik sneered, \"The court didn't trust my young protege... Daughter... With a creature as vile as you. But me? I'm capable. I'm powerful. I'm responsible...\"\n\n\"The pick-up and drop off times aren't fair!\" The table cracked under her fists. She flattened her palms out.\n\n\"That outburst...\" Erik seemed almost gleeful.\n\n\"Yeah... Yeah. I'll get her stuff and we can... I'll contact my lawyer...\"\n\nThe case worker looked concerned, \"Excuse me Miss... Sarah. What did you say about the times?\"\n\n\"Oh the court ordered times... She's to be home promptly at 8am Sunday morning and I'm to pick her up no later than 8am Friday mornings. Or after school, during the school year of course.\"\n\n\"Even though...\"\n\n\"I'm a vampire, and even with protection spells and heavy clothes...aside from the sweltering New England summer heat... It still burns quite a bit to be out and about.\"\n\nErik was wringing his hands, \"That's enough out of you.\"\n\n\"Well hang on she has a point. This seems... More than a little discriminatory.\"\n\nErik's hands flashed red, flames surrounding his palms, \"I've had just about enough of this. Bring me the girl or I'll solve this dispute myself.\"\n\n\"Mr. Drake!!\"\n\nHe incanted a spell and hurled a ball of flame at the case worker. It was swallowed by her locket.\n\n\"Do you really think we're not equipped to handle your little spells, Mr. Drake? My null-magic amulet and I will see you out... And in court.\"\n\nThe little girl finally emerged, sprinting towards her mother, hugging her tight.\n\n\"What happened?\"\n\nSarah tried not to smile, but this girl was her everything, \"Your Father, funny enough... Might have just given us a second chance to get away from him.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: It is the 23rd century and the diminished population of earth is at war. Britain is making a last stand against invasion. Pushed back to the borders of Scotland and just days from defeat help comes from an unexpected source After nearly 2300 years the 9th Roman legion have returned." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The 21st Century had been the beginning of the end, pandemic after pandemic circled the globe. It had the effect of decimating the population, but its other effect was to turn country against country. Borders slammed shut, foreigners were jailed with act first ask questions later policies.\n\nThe 22nd Century was when the effects of countries no longer cooperating became apparent. Now we were no longer a global community we became a world lacking in the resources we had all come to take for granted. Petit arguments between countries escalated until there was War on a Global scale, World War 3. Initially the fighting was state of the art. Drone versus drone, remote controlled war, but gradually all the technology was lost, with no way of rebuilding it. The fighting continued using a few left over hand held laser weapons and anything else the soldiers managed to scavenge.\n\nNow in the 23rd Century the British Empire was closer to falling than it had ever been before, the French troops had pushed them North as far as Scotland.\n\nThe last hope of the once Great British Empire stood in a row behind Hadrian’s wall. The 1st Battalion had been tasked with holding the border while the remaining population tried to survive in the harsh conditions that the Scottish Highlands offered during winter.\n\nThe General stood with her Soldiers, she didn’t know how they were going to survive the night. Their equipment was falling apart, between the 100 of them left fighting they had 10 barely functioning laser rifles. She knew that the enemy were going to be better equipped than that.\n\nThere were so few of them left she didn’t even have to raise her voice for them to hear.\n\n“We fought them on the seas and oceans, we fought them in the air, we have defended our Island at great cost to us all. We fought them on the Beaches, We fought them on the landing grounds, we fought them in the fields and in the street. Tonight we shall fight them on this hill and we shall never surrender.” She looked around at the faces she knew so well, knowing in her heart that they were done for, they were not going to see another dawn.\n\nShe heard the tell-tale charge of the laser rifle before the beam hit a tree next to where they were standing.\n\n“Take cover, incoming” the remaining members of the 1st battalion of the British Empire immediately threw themselves down behind the wall, using it to block the laser fire.\n\n“Just hold your nerve, they shouldn’t have too much charge left in those lasers before they have to wait for sunrise to recharge them” She wasn’t quite sure if she lying for the sake of her troops of for her own sanity. But pressed on the floor by Hadrian’s wall she put both her hands onto the rocks that had lain here for millennia and wished for a miracle.\n\nThe sound of the laser rifles halted abruptly, only to be replaced by a rhythmic metal clanking that she’d never heard before. She waited for another 30 seconds, and when the laser fire didn’t restart she risked raising her head over the wall.\n\n“Boss, Boss, what’s happening” she just looked down at her second in command and shook her head, she couldn’t actually work out what was happening.\n\n“I don’t know” Where a few minutes ago there had been nothing but fields, there were now men wearing some kind uniform she’d never seen before. She had never seen so many people in one place there must have been thousands.\n\nShe watched them as they faced the French, beating rhythmically on their shields, marching forwards with each strike.\n\nThe laser fire started again, this time not aiming for the British, but aiming for the Legion of soldiers who had appeared out of thin air.\n\n“Clypeus” The shout came from the mysterious soldiers, who as one unit made a wall of their shields and continued to advance. She watched in bewilderment as the laser shots ricocheted off the shields, this turned to elation as she saw the soldiers overwhelm the French lines.\n\n“Forwards, everyone attack now” she was on her feet and leaping over the wall running to help the Soldiers, trying to understand what was happening as she ran. She ran past bannermen holding large flags with 2 headed Eagles over the Roman numeral IX.\n\nThe 1st British Battalion fought side by side with the strangers, pushing the French back. They couldn’t understand each other, but they all appeared to have the same goal, to reclaim the British Empire.\n\nThe days past in a blur, the March with the 9th Legion took them through territory that she thought they would never see again. It took several Months, but finally the last Frenchman was pushed back into the sea at Dover, loading onto the ragged bunch of boats to take them back to their homeland.\n\nShe stood watching as the French disappeared into the thick sea mist that rolled over the Channel, then onto the land blanketing the troops. It damped all the sounds around her, until she could no longer hear the metal on metal sound that had grown so familiar while she marched with the 9th Legion. As rapidly as it had rolled in, the mist cleared.\n\nShe looked around, blinking with bewilderment, the only people standing on the beach were the remaining 100 of the 1st British Battalion. She sank to her knees, placing her hands in the sand silently thanking whatever had sent their saviours." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: \"You are here before us today accused of killing God. How do you plead?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“What?”\n\nDr. Fleming’s last memory was his loving family, consisting of two beautiful daughters, three adorable grandchildren, and his perfect wife, all staring at him with tender eyes as he slowly drifted off into death from terminal pancreatic cancer. Now he was here, in what looked like the office for the owner of a successful law firm. The desk in front of him, mahogany and lacking a single flaw, was empty, apart from one folder with “Tanner Fleming” in bold letters on the front.\n\n“Well, are you guilty or not?” the man at the desk said, casually flipping through the folder.\n\n“What?” Dr. Fleming grew more and more disoriented with each passing second. Wasn’t he dead?\n\n“You, Dr. Fleming, were a scientist, right?”\n\n“Where am I? Is this death?”\n\n“Yes, you’re dead. Now, answer the question. Were you a scientist?”\n\n“Yes, I am,” he paused, trying to compose himself, “was a scientist.”\n\n“Yes” the man said, continuing his interrogation, “and how did you, as a scientist, help benefit mankind?”\n\nThe man stood up from his chair and began to pace the room. He had on a black suit, well-fitted, and wore a white tie.\n\n“Well,” Dr. Fleming said, quickly gaining confidence and energy while talking about his passion, as he usually did when discussing the subject, “I led the Scientific Reality Initiative for the UN, commonly known as the Second Age of Enlightenment, which, with trillions in funding, the latest technology, and global cooperation, granted every child in the world a pristine, well-rounded education. By 2090, the 50th anniversary of the Initiative, every young adult and child in the world could read, write, and had a thorough knowledge in Math, Science, History, Music, and countless other subjects.”\n\n“Quite a controversial Initiative, was it not?” said the man, staring hard at Dr. Fleming.\n\n“Yes indeed!” said the Doctor, tensing at the glare of the man with the white tie. “But the program is, I can assure you, much more beneficial than not.”\n\nThe man continued his stare at Dr. Fleming as an uncomfortable silence saturated the room.\n\n“And, if I recall, you taught theology in this Initiative as well?”\n\n“Yes I did! In fact, with proper education about the universe, we have successfully created a generation that fully supports realistic understandings of our existence.”\n\n“How do you mean?” said the man, whose stare had still not ceased.\n\n“Well,” said the Doctor, getting nervous, “We eradicated the belief in God. With the facts in everyone’s minds, and guidance by our teachers, we have created a world where everybody believes in reality instead of God.\"\n\n“So, Doctor,” said the man, throwing his folder hard on the desk, “where do you think you are now?”\n\nThe Doctor looked around, finally considering his surroundings and predicament more than his “Initiative,” and realized where he might be. He knew he was dead, but wasn’t death supposed to end with nothingness? Not this. But, if he was already dead, where was he now? That could only mean... the Doctor stopped mid-thought, his eyes grew wide, his face became a ghastly pale, and his hands shook as he cleaned his already clear glasses.\n\n“You, Doctor,” continued the man, “are guilty of killing God. Because of you, no human believes in Him anymore.”\n\n“It can’t be.” His eyes darted around frantically, his heart rate quickening.\n\n“Oh, but it is. If God is not real, then who am I? You have killed me in the eyes of man, Doctor, and you will pay an eternal price.”\n\nAnd with the snap of the Man’s fingers, the Doctor was gone." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Michael Jackson is alive. He is sitting right in front of you about to explain the most elaborate hoax anyone in Hollywood has ever pulled off." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I pulled into the booth across from him. He put down the book he was reading. It was Gone girl.\n\nHe smiled at me. His skin was darker than every time I had seen him growing up on TV. He wasn't the man I knew had once existed, the one Eddie Murphy had refereed to during the early 80's as a fellow black (albiet effeminate) man.\n\nHis skin was mostly dark, but with the splotches of whiteness I had read about. A real medical condition, I forgot what it was called. Even his half black skin was showing up with patches that looked almost nordic. His shame from it had lead to hiding everything, starting him down the road to destruction.\n\nHe was Michael Jackson. He was alive. He looked like was in his mid 20s.\n\n“Are you an impersonator?” I asked him.\n\n“No, I'm really me” he said. His voice soft, but not as much as I thought it would be. He was the real deal, a faker would have pushed it too hard, added a “ohhh hooo” like so many Elvis' who said “uh huh” far too often.\n\n“You're not dead.”\n\n“No I'm not.” he said, a slight smile forming.\n\n“Why are you in a hipster cafe in Australia?” I asked.\n\n“Why are you?” he asked.\n\n“I'm waiting for my writing group to come meet me.”\n\n“That's nice” he responded.\n\n“You didn't answer.” I said.\n\n“When I was healing, I had time to think. My children need to know their mother, even my little Blanket needs a mother. Especially him. This city isn't where she's from, I figured everyone in the meeting could accept that they would be a little out of their element. I was right. It went great. And so they decided here would abe a good spot for the rest as well”\n\n“Your kids are here?” I asked\n\n“They aren't in this state anymore. They will be free from the media for the next few weeks. When they get out from the bush, things will have died down a little I hope. I picked up that book and have been reading it since this morning. I think you're the first one to get up the guts, but not the first to notice me. I guess I won the bet”\n\nI looked at the book. He was about 2/3rds through.\n\n“Why?” I asked.\n\n“What do you think has happened to me?” he asked.\n\n“You've gotten a much better surgeon.” I said.\n\n“I did have some surgery, but not on my face, that fixed itself. So no. that's not it. That's not really it.”\n\n“You are Michael Jackson?” I asked.\n\n“In the flesh.”\n\n“Was there insurance money or something?” I asked.\n\n“No. Although in a way things were done just in case. They weren't sure it would work. But they figured when I died people would buy so many of my old albums that my money troubles would be over and my family could be ok if things didn't work out.”\n\n“Just in case what wouldn't work?” I asked\n\n“Immortality. Well, Experimental Immortality.”\n\nI blurted it out. “Bullshit!”\n\n“How do you know?” he asked.\n\n“Because you died a few years ago. Susanne Buffet, Warren Buffet's first wife died only a few years before that. He was the richest man on earth for a while till he gave half his money to Bill Gates. There is no way she would have died if there was any way to save her at all. He loved her so much.”\n\nHe looked at me. “One wife of a rich man seems to die so immortality is impossible?” he asked.\n\nI looked around. “Wait, is this a show of some sort.”\n\n“No. It's not.” he smiled.\n\n“Then why?”\n\n“There isn't a reason why, there is a reason why so long. The treatments almost killed me again. I told a few people what I had signed up for. My babies knew I was sick. So I went on the register. Some people are set up to get frozen. I got sent to the facility. I did die you see. But they brought me back and healed me. It cost a lot of money.”\n\n“Who did this?” I asked\n\n“People who have been working on this for decades. It took 5 years to get me healed. The first one had been in treatment for 30 years, he was the whole reason they did all the work originally. They said it would be free if I agreed and promoted them when it happened. I didn't agree. So now 20% of my income from my future albums will be going to them. It's a small price to pay. Even if only a few buy them, they will get all the publicity they want.”.\n\nHe was speaking in riddles.\n\n“Wait...who?” I asked\n\n“Who has been the most powerful group in Hollywood for decades? Then in the last few years they just stopped being so powerful. It's like they took their eye off the ball. Stopped being totally obsessed with their image, something else got their attention. They knew they would soon have something else to keep people believing. They would have me, they would have him. And they would have the others.”\n\n“Oh god...” I said.\n\n“Yeah.” He leaned forward and whispered, “I think they are a little nuts. But their scientists clearly have 30 years of research, not 60 million years.”\n\n“But....but.” I said. I couldn't think.\n\nI drank my coke to gain back my focus. Then looked two booths down. There was a woman looking at me, early 20's. She was facing a man with wavy hair, he was moving his hands as he spoke, pontificating on something he thought was profound. She looked familiar, like someone seen in passing, not well known, just someone from historical photos. She looked at the man sitting across from her. He expression faded slightly. She kept a smile up but I could clearly tell she wasn't especially impressed with him.\n\nThen she looked back at me.\n\nI pulled out my phone and began searching Wikipedia. Michael was still leaning forward.\n\n“You know you're either psychic, or really smart.” he said.\n\nThe woman motioned towards me. The man she had been speaking stopped his hand motions. He turned his torso, I could see his face, he was young now too.\n\nWikipedia loaded. I pulled up the youngest photo I could of her. They matched the woman sitting two booths down.\n\nThe woman got up and I could tell she had told the man at her booth to follow. They came up to ours and stood, both smiling.\n\n“Michael. Why don't you introduce us to your friend?” she said.\n\nMichael smiled at her. “Sure Suzie, I won the bet for being seen first. But he mentioned you, it's weird huh? Um, hey, I never got your name.”\n\n“Peter” I said, staring at the three of them.\n\n“Well Peter. I'm Michael, Michael Jackson. This Is Susanne Buffet, and I'm sure you've heard of L Ron Hubbard.”\n\nEDIT:Some minor corrections." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You turn into an anthropomorphic wolf at night. You are not a werewolf, as you do not actually get any special powers or weaknesses, but that does not stop other people from being scared of you and hunting you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Can we at least talk about this!” I shout at the madman stalking the woods. A shot rings out as the tree I’m hiding behind shudders at the impact of the slug. I scramble away and dive to another tree for cover.\n\n“You are awfully talkative for a werewolf! Just let me put you out of your misery, for the village.” He yells to me in the dark woods.\n\n“I’m not a wer-“ Another shot splinters the branch near my head. I flop to the ground and scramble to find more cover.\n\nThe hunter curses as he reloads while I flee further into the night. This damned white fur and glowing eyes are not helping me hide for the lunatic. I would try and fight back, but this damn body is so awkward and I’m not exactly in shape. Besides, he has a gun. I dive behind another tree and try to catch my breath, as the hunter stomps somewhere in the mud around me.\n\n“I’m not, I’m not a werewolf! I’m just a guy, who, who happens to turn into a wolf, that walks on two legs. On full moons, I think!” I yell between breaths. I hear the footsteps stop as he no doubt scans the area.\n\n“Right, and I’m not a werewolf hunter. I’m just a guy with a shotgun who happens to have silver slugs in it. Who also shoots only unnatural wolves.” He yells back before resuming his search.\n\nI crouch down and try and crawl through the mud. Hopefully silently. This is what I get for stealing from a witch. She had so many spellbooks, how the hell did she notice she was missing one before I got out of there. I grumble to myself as I continue to crawl further away from the hunter. Thankfully the mud seems to do a great job at concealing my fur as it seems the madman isn’t on my tail like earlier. I slowly get back up and begin the run towards where I think is a nearby trail.\n\nSNAP!\n\nPain shoots through my foot as I fall back down to the ground. I curse as I try to pry open the silver beartrap that’s gnawing on my foot. I finally pry the stupid thing open just in time to hear the hunters footsteps once again.\n\n“No use running monster! That silver is gonna eat through you like you did with your victims.”\n\nI hobble toward the trail, only to find it’s actually a clearing in the woods. Before I can curse my luck another shot rings out and shatters the tree next to me, sending me tumbling into the tall grass. I flip over to my back as the hunter approaches and casually reloads his gun.\n\n“I’ll admit I was surprised you got out of the trap so quickly.” He says while staring at my bleeding foot. “I expected more burns from that trap, guess I got suckered into buying fake silver. Unfortunately for you, I know my rounds are the real deal.” He says as he snaps the breach closed.\n\n“For the last time, I’m not a werewolf!” I yell back as I try to crawl away.\n\n“Whatever you say monster. Any last words?” He says as he points the gun to my chest.\n\nI bite my tongue and close my eyes to brace for the inevitable. I hear the sounds of a heavy thud followed by a blast and a slug whizzing above me, shredding the grass. I open my eyes to see true monsters. The hunter struggles to breathe as a black beast lifts him up by the throat with its clawed hand, his gun in the clutches of the monster’s other hand.\n\n“Oh god no” I mumble to myself as two more werewolves emerge from the forest and stand next to the behemoth toying with its prey.\n\n“You have, a pack?” the hunter manages to squeak out. The werewolf snarls and brings the hunter close to his muzzle.\n\n“Look at me!” It says before turning the hunter to face me. “Now look at him. Do you think I would let that, THING, anywhere near my pack?”\n\n“Now now, don’t be too upset with him. He’s not a werewolf hunter. I heard he’s just a guy with a shotgun that happens to have silver slugs.” One of the werewolves mocks as it grabs the gun from the hunters hand, before snapping it in half. “I bet this guy’s never even seen a werewolf”\n\nThe hunter futilely struggles to break free of the monster’s grip. The beast turns the hunter back toward itself. “Tell me, hunter, am I a werewolf?” the hunter weakly nods. The beast turns the hunter back toward me. “Is THAT a werewolf?” The hunter desperately shakes his head no. “Very good, hunter, I’m glad you understand.” The werewolf smiles before decapitating the hunter with one swipe of its free claws. I gasp as the head lands next to me. The beast tosses the body to one of its packmate who jump at the free meal. I pray as another approaches me.\n\n“So what do we do with this thing?” It asks as it looks me up and down. “It gives me the creeps.”\n\nThe black werewolf begins to walk toward me before stopping. It cocks its head and sniffs the air.\n\n“Leave it.” It growls.\n\nThe other werewolf turns back to its leader. “Really?”\n\n“I smell Serelda’s magic all over that thing. Trust me, you don’t want to cross her if you don’t have to.” It turns back to me and crouches to stare into my eyes. “I don’t know your situation, but I highly suggest you go back to the witch and get a new form. I won’t suffer mockery for long.” It growls before turning back and walking into the dark woods with his pack trailing behind." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Two (or more) characters have a full conversation without saying anything" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Winter was always hard for the tribe. The frost killed almost all that was green, and the little that was left behind wasn't fit for eating. The season's icy chill cut deep and harsh, and even the most able bodied members of the tribe could be struck down by illness and cold. That's why hunters were so important. The game they brought back was for more than just food, the pelts were a source of warmth. Takar had listened to his father lecture him about these things for many years, even after he had become a man. Although he rolled his eyes every time he was told, he kept his father's lessons close to his heart.\n\nIt had been two weeks since his father's passing. The shamans didn't know if it was cold or hunger that stole his last breath, or if it was merely time itself. Takar had decided that it didn't matter. Whatever it was that had taken his father, Takar vowed that it wouldn't take anyone else. Not this year.\n\nThe young hunter moved swiftly through the forest, the snow crunching softly under his feet as he moved. He had been tracking a megaloceros for the past day, and he could feel deep in his heart that he was getting closer. The beast could feed his entire tribe, if he could successfully bring it down.\n\nIt was then that he saw it far ahead, trudging through the snow peacefully. The great elk was a mighty beast, but in that moment it was quiet and serene. With luck, it would die that way. Takar drew an arrow from his quiver and nocked his bow, moving quickly and quietly.\n\nSuddenly, he heard a third set of footfalls in the snow. On the other side of the massive beast, a figure flitted from tree to frozen tree, a blur of white fur and bone that Takar could barely pick out through the falling snow. Takar froze in place, and after a moment, the hunter in the trees stopped as well. The two men looked past their quarry, and to eachother. Their eyes locked.\n\nHe was little more than a boy, Takar thought. His face was still youthful and his body spry. He couldn't have been much older than he was, when he first became a hunter. But his eyes told another story. Takar didn't see a naïve and inexperienced child in those eyes. He saw a man who understood loss, a man who understood the hunt and the way of the forest. He couldn't recognize the boy's tribe, but they must have angered the spirits or were truly desperate, to send a child out alone in this weather.\n\nWhatever the boy saw in Takar, he did not know. But instead of trying to shoo him or send him away, he merely held up a hand in greeting - and as a sign to hold fire. Takar looked from the boy to the great elk, nodding in understanding. He was right, of course. Two hunters together stood a far greater chance of bringing down a mighty megaloceros. If they truly wanted to posture over the spoils, they could do it later. Takar took a few steps to the side, keeping a clear line of sight between his quarry and his newfound partner. He crouched down low, lining his shot up as he watched the boy make his move.\n\nThe younger hunter was silent as he crept through the trees, a spear in hand. His expression was hard and focused, and Takar could see him plotting and scheming, looking for the right avenue and moment to attack. The older hunter raised a hand and pointed towards the branches above the megaloceros. His partner was quick to notice and follow his direction, and in a matter of seconds, the trap was laid.\n\nThe two hunters shared a gaze for a second time, each signalling the other that they were ready. The moment before the kill seemed to stretch on for an eternity, but then, the boy pounced. He leapt down from on high, plunging his spear deep into the great elk's back. The mighty beast howled in pain, raising its head high. Birds took flight and scattered at the sound, and smaller woodland creatures dashed and scurried in a frightened panic. But Takar was not a frightened rodent. He was a hunter, and he had his opening.\n\nThe older hunter's arrow flied true, embedding itself deep in the monstrous deer's eye. The beast - so recently full of life - collapsed, its blood seeping out into the snow and colouring it a harsh red.\n\nTakar rose to his feet and strode out into the glade as the young hunter stumbled to his feet and hurried back around the beast. The two stood across from eachother, their great conquest lying between them. Now that he was closer, Takar could make out more details on the boy. His hands were shaking, and on his pelts were countless tokens and totems, carved from wood, bone and stone. Though he could not recognize all of them, he knew that they were mementos for friends and family that had passed on. He carried one himself, for his father.\n\nThe boy stepped to the side gingerly, gesturing towards the mighty beast before him and making a small, cutting motion with his hands. A peace offering, they could share the spoils evenly. Takar frowned and shook his head, pulling out his prized bone knife. Half wouldn't be good enough. He had made a promise, he would make sure that nobody died of hunger or cold this winter.\n\nThe older hunter strode around the beast and fell to one knee, pressing his knife into the confused boy's outstretched hand. Silently, the child's hand closed, and he nodded gratefully to his new friend. Takar rose back to his feet and walked back into the woods, disappearing into the falling snow." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: In a city full of incredibly serious superheroes and villains, one person decides to bring some Silver Age 'ham and cheese' lightheartedness back to the city. You are that person." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“I guess he’ll be chilling in prison now.” I chuckle, as the police throw an unconscious Blizzard Man into the back of a cruiser. One of the officers walks toward me.\n\n“Thank you sir, who knows how much damage he might have caused if you hadn’t arrived.”\n\n“Never fear citizen! As long as I’m around evil-doers like him will never harm this city!”\n\n“Uh...thanks sir.” As he turns to walk away I summon the energy left and take to the sky leaving an afterglow of yellow energy in my wake.\n\nOnce out of sight I drop to the ground. “Dammit,” I wheeze out, “I’m not generating enough power.” I quickly change into my civies and hop on the nearest bus. I find a seat in the back and almost drop into it, my muscles now completely drained of strength. I reach into my pocket and pull out a tiny worn notebook and flip to the first empty page.\n\n“What else could I have said? Maybe...keep COOL, Blizzard Man.” I whisper in between scribbles.\n\nIf I had delivered that line wrong, even one slip up, I may not have had enough power to finish Blizzard Man.\n\nFrustrated, I shove my notebook back into my pocket close my eyes and wait until I hear my stop.\n\nTo the city I am Gold Streak, fun-loving and carefree hero of Gravis City. With powers greater than any hero ever seen before, I’ve made a name for myself in this city as the hero who can handle any villain no matter how dastardly their plan or evil their intentions. In the public eye, I am invincible but my power is not everlasting. I pull positive emotions of those around me like hope, joy, and cheerfulness, and use that energy to perform amazing feats. Unfortunately since I moved to this city of killjoys my powers have been on severe decline.\n\nOne smirk at a well-timed pun and I can take down your average thug. A crowd of cheering onlookers? I could take down a whole army with one arm tied behind my back.\n\nAt that moment the bus screeches to a halt. A barricade of police cars are stopping all traffic. On the corner is a man with a gun and a bomb vest, because why not, also behind a barricade. Except his is made of hostages.\n\nBefore the bus driver can reverse, I rise from my seat, using the last of my energy to form a bright aura and declare, “I guess this is my stop...” Crickets, shit.\n\nToo late to back down now, I move to the front of the bus when I feel something on my side. I look down to see a young boy smiling bright, “go get ‘em Gold Streak.” My dwindling golden aura flares into a blaze. “Thanks kid.”\n\nI step off the bus, the power coursing through my body telling me I can do anything, be anything, save anything. I turn towards the bus one last time, “fear not citizens. Where there is hope, there is cheer, and where there is cheer there is, GOLD STREAK.” The bus erupts in cheers.\n\nI turn towards the menace, smiling to myself, “Nailed it.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: In the world of the immortals, scientists discovered a drug that makes you mortal for a day. People start doing the \"try not to die\" challenge for views, and find out it's harder than it looks." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I could hearing the buzzing of the news come alive in my ear, “Today’s top story: 6 more teens die during the “try not to die challenge” and Mario Sanchez will give you all the details in the normal 9am report. Tune in to hear h-.” I muted the chip before the story could finish. This wasn’t news, teenagers everywhere were trying the challenge, and every single one of them had died.\n\nEver since before we had the news chips in our arms, since before the government decided the best way to help us was to control us, we had the immortality drug, Livemex. One injection and you will age up to 35 and stop aging at all. It granted us the ability to do anything we could dream of without dying. The government made it free, but that meant that all the other prices skyrocketed. See what was the point of eating, drinking, sleeping, anything? We couldn’t die, no heat stroke or frostbite, no drowning or falling off a roof. No illness. Pretty soon all goods production stopped, no one needed clothes, or food, or shelter. Amenities could be maintained using AI and humans could live a life free of worry.\n\nThe world became overpopulated within a year. Houses ceased to exist, people resided in pods, a 10x10 meter room that could house 40 people. No privacy, no personal space. After your work day you had to go back to your pod. The drug changed everything. Soon after the government realized they could enslave us and use us any way they wanted: after all they gave us immortality. Wars turned to turf battles. We needed more room, the planet was becoming so overloaded that it was affecting our orbit. The only space left was, literally, space. So the world leaders came together to find a way to populate near-by planets. The only problem? Livemex couldn’t be shipped to other planets. The formula wasn’t stable enough. So the first generation would live forever, but the next would need to survive on their own. The idea was terrifying and sounded impossible. And today was my day to attempt it.\n\nThe news made it sound as though we had a choice. We don’t, if you are randomly selected then the government comes and gives you a second injection. It counteracts the Livemax and you become mortal again. Immediately. Most test subjects die within 4 hours, but the record is 18 hours. Held by a New Australand man of 19 years, he survived by curling into a ball in a corner and not moving. Then, he died because his bladder exploded and he bled out. Poor bloke forgot that the urinary system would start functioning again. Or at least, that’s what the news reported.\n\nI was to report to the government office of World Security in my town by 9am to receive my injection, or else they would come and drag me away and give it to me in an uncontrolled environment (it had happened 4 times in history, the subjects all died within minutes). I got up and began to get ready for my departure, and I thought about my strategy. See you win by surviving for 48 hours. If you do that then they give you another dose of Livemex, and a ticket to the new planet. With a promise of space, a whole house to yourself.\n\nMy strategy was similar to the New Australand man’s, sit in a corner and pray. And remember to take a piss. I arrived at the center, and they loaded me into the building. I was read instructions on basic survival, and in less than 10 minutes I was in a sterile room, completely empty. No furniture, or even a bed. Just a white room with white tile floor. The men came in to the room wearing old-time biohazard suits (as if I could hurt them). The syringe was brandished and I felt the most searing sensation in my arm, the pain was unimaginable. My body writhed underneath me, suddenly aware of itself and parts long paralyzed by stagnancy came back to life. Now I understood why no one lived after the injection: why would you want to? I curled by body up into a ball, according to my plan i just needed to stay still until 48 hours had ticked by. I stayed in the ball in agony, the only thought i could manage was focusing on the house a million billion miles away. After an eternity, i managed to look at the clock. A total of 6 minutes had gone by. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t stand the agony. Then I remembered the survival guides, they said it would hurt. Digestion they had called it, my intestines were writhing around empty. I needed to fill them.\n\nI crawled to the door to the room where someone slid a plate through a flap, a plate filled with items to eat. They said I just needed to chew and swallow and that the pain would subside. I took a bit of a soft lump of white, and swallowed best I could. I could feel the scraping of the texture all the way down my throat. It felt like a weight in my stomach then. And I could eat no more, one bite had filled me past capacity. My stomach ached as it stretched. I curled into a ball again waiting, waiting.\n\nHours ticked by so slowly it felt like time was scarcely moving at all. 2 hours, then 3, then 4. The agony didn’t stop, didn’t break, didn’t weaken. I wondered if this is what it felt like to live back in the old days, before Livemex. I know now I would never want to. I knew I had 44 more hours of this misery. And my strength broke beneath me, snapping like a wet rope that had been pulled too tight. I just wanted it to stop. So I did the only thing I could do in my control: I sat on the floor, laid down, and began slamming my head into the floor. Again and again. The pain was unbelievable, but at least I knew I was making my choice. The world grew darker with each impact now, I could feel the searing in my lungs, begging me to stop and breathe. My ears started to ring, then they too fell quiet. My last thought before everything went silent: at least they can’t control this. The beating in my chest halted. I exhaled one last time. And I was dead.\n\nA speaker came on overhead, “Experiment 5837: failed.” The scientists scarcely look at each other, they knew this would happen. After all, the other 5836 subjects died the same way. It appeared in the quest for immortality, humans had lost the will to live at all.\n\nEdited: typo and added a small sentence for continuity." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: \"Alright, to establish a baseline for the polygraph test, could you please repeat the following: \"I am currently in an interrogation room in the 13th Precinct of the NYPD\" ?\". The woman does so with the smile, and the polygraph goes haywire." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“To establish a baseline for the polygraph test, could you please repeat the following : ‘I am currently in an interrogation room in the 13th Precinct of the NYPD’?”, the examiner said, nodding to the polygraph operator.\n\nThe woman seated at the table repeated the statement, slightly amused.\n\nThe operator examined the readout of the machine, and looking up at the examiner, shook his head and said “No”.\n\n“Hm. Ok, Mrs. Smith, if you wouldn’t mind removing the electrodes – we’ll have to reset them. This shouldn’t take more than a few minutes”, the examiner said, looking through the papers he held.\n\nA brief moment later the electrodes were reapplied, and the small needle on the polygraph machine wiggled back and forth.\n\nThe man standing across the table again started to question Mrs. Smith.\n\n“Let’s try again. Is your name Glenda Jones Smith, and are you 35 years old?”\n\n“Yes. That’s correct”. The man operating the machine stood hunched over the readout. He looked at the other man and nodded.\n\n“Mrs. Smith, is the current date the 15th of February, 1962?”\n\n“Yes”, Mrs. Smith said. The operator gave a thumbs up.\n\n“Ok, one more: are you currently in an interrogation room in the 13th Precinct of the NYPD?” The man looked up from his papers at Mrs. Smith and waited with his eyebrows raised.\n\nThere was a pause. The two men looked at each other for a few seconds and then the interrogator spoke.\n\n“Mrs. Smith, do you understand that statement to be true? That you are here right now?”\n\nMrs. Smith looked confused, then asked “What is a precinct?”\n\nThe man’s eyebrows raised further and then dropped.\n\n“Oh, I see. Well, the baseline is established, so we should have what we need to continue”. He ruffled through his papers and began questioning Mrs. Smith about her location and activities during the previous month. The examiner, a man with bushy eyebrows and a dry voice named Mr. Brown, would ask a question, she would answer, and the polygraph operator, a younger man with dark hair, would lean into the results and log notes on a form sitting next to him, hidden from the view of Mrs. Smith.\n\n“On the morning of February 19th, were you in your home, or were you at your friends home?”\n\n“I was at the home of my friend Mrs. Dodery”.\n\n“What was the weather? Was there hail that morning?”\n\nMrs. Smith looked at the table. “What does that word mean?”\n\n“Which word? Hail?”\n\n“Yes”.\n\n“…Is English your first language, Mrs. Smith?” Mr. Brown glanced at the other man.\n\n“…Yes”. The needle of the machine wiggled.\n\n“That was a lie,” the young man said quickly.\n\nMrs. Smith’s eyes darted back to the table.\n\n“What is your native language, Mrs. Smith?” Mr. Brown leaned slightly toward the woman.\n\n“What is your native language, Mrs. Smith?” She replied, strangely without any pause between the question and her answer.\n\n“Mrs. Smith, answer the question,” The man said bluntly.\n\n“Mrs. Smith, answer hail, the question? Precinct of 13th of February”.\n\nThe young man stared at Mrs. Smith, and then back at the polygraph machine, and finally to Mr. Brown.\n\n“That was…the truth?”\n\nMr. Brown made a dismissive gesture and continued staring at Mrs. Smith. She began clenching and opening her hands, from fists into splayed fingers and back, slowly and methodically. Her mouth was twitching at the corners unnaturally, as if the muscles were being stimulated by electric shocks. Some of the expressions she made were so unnatural that the two men flinched, as her face went from the appearance of twitching calmness to a manic open-mouthed grin for a few tenths of a second before becoming neutral again.\n\nA loud pop was heard, like a huge sealed jar being opened forcefully, and the woman was gone. The instruments for recording her pulse and blood pressure lay on the table loose, like they had not just been attached to a living arm." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: In the far future, fairy tales have advanced with the times. Rewrite a classic for the digital age." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“I’ve got one” Hansel shouted into the woods. His phone held firmly in his grasp, he moved towards the tree that Gretel had climbed. Gretel dropped down and sprinted over to him. He only now noticed how ragged she looked. Her clothes were torn from a combination of moving through the woods and sleeping on the dirt. They’d been lost in the woods for around four days now, and it was starting to take its toll.\n\nShe grabbed his hand and inspected the device in his hand. The signal was weak, but it was there. She grabbed for her own phone and searched, the same signal appeared on screen. They could get out of the woods, if only they could find the source of the signal.\n\n“You stay put, don’t lose the signal. I’ll go and hunt for it” Hansel said moving away from her. She nodded her reply and sat on the floor. She hadn’t said a word in days now, he was starting to worry about her. He moved in an easterly and the signal dropped off his screen. Trying not to panic, fearing irrationally that he had lost the signal forever, he moved back in the other direction. West he thought, and picked up the signal again. He continued moving and saw the signal jump from one bar to two.\n\n“It’s this way!” he shouted and gestured for her to follow him.\n\nGretel caught up and followed closely on his heels, her eyes not leaving her own screen. Breaking through a tree line they found the source of the signal. A small run down cottage situated in a clearing. The cottage was covered in overgrown foliage, and surround by discarded car parts. It looked more like a junk yard than a house, but it was their best shot.\n\nThey approached the house and knocked on the front door. Immediately noises began coming from inside as someone heavyset approached the door. They took a step back in anticipation. The door flung open and a large woman of about 60 years stood in opening staring, cigarette in her mouth.\n\n“What?” her terse voice causing discomfort in Hansel, but Gretel didn’t even flinch.\n\n“Hi, we… erm… we’re lost. Do you have a phone we could use, or maybe send an email? We picked up your wifi signal”\n\n“You’re lost eh?” she grinned menacingly, then continued “come on in, we’ll get someone to come pick you up. You both look hungry, are you hungry?” She turned and headed back into the house motioning for them to follow.\n\n“We haven’t eaten since yesterday” Hansel replied. He reminded himself to be cautious, but it was difficult with his stomach roaring like it was. He followed the heavy set lady with Gretel in tow.\n\nThe house was as rundown as the exterior. Clutter throughout the house providing evidence of a hoarder. Trying to be polite he followed the lady without a glance anywhere, he only now realised she walked with a limp. The kitchen was as cluttered as the rest of the house, and didn’t look like it had been cleaned in a while. They sat at the table when indicated to do so by a wave of the lady’s hand. She buried her head into the fridge.\n\n“You both like soup?” she asked\n\nGretel nodded to Hansel who answered in the positive for both of them. He had no idea why Gretel had stopped talking. Hopefully some food would help her back to her normal self. Five minutes passed when a bowl was thrust in front of each of them filled with a gleaming brown liquid.\n\n“Beef” was the answer to a question Hansel was too polite to ask. He nodded and hoped he managed to keep his true feelings about the meal from his face. He picked up the spoon and set about eating the food without vomiting. After the first mouthful he realised his mistake and struggled to refrain from picking the bowl up and just drinking. He was someone’s guest and tried to keep his manners. Gretel had forgotten hers and set about sloppily eating the soup, along with all the slurping noises she could manage. Hansel looked at the lady who laughed and said “no need to be polite, get stuck in”\n\nHe did as was instructed and shovelled mouthful after mouthful into his mouth. Head lowered until the final spoonful was clean, he surfaced for air. Remembering where he was and why they were here he said “thank you for the food, would you mind if we used your phone?”\n\n“Of course, it’s just through here” She gestured to the doorway they had come through. He stood and had to grab the table edge to steady himself. The room started to spin and he fell, noticing his unconscious sister at the table as he did so.\n\nHis eyes were forced apart by the glare of a bright light. The room had changed and it took a few minutes for him to remember where he was. The realisation dawned when he saw his sister face down on a table in front of him, not moving. He stifled a scream when he realised her back had been sliced open and he could see her skeletal structure. He didn’t want to give away the fact he was awake and forced himself to keep from screaming. The sobs he couldn’t stop, tears flowed as he struggled against his restraints. All at once his view was filled with the sight of the heavyset woman, a smile plastered across her face.\n\n“You’re awake, good” she said “I wondered how long it would take. Your sister woke up much quicker than you. You ate more than she did I guess. No matter now” She turned and walked back to the table. He noticed her limp had gone, had she been faking it? She picked up a tool from the table and placed it out of view.\n\nHe looked around the room and noticed it was tiled and looked similar to an operating theatre. “What a...a...are you d…d…doing to her?” he enquired through the sobs. She once again filled his vision.\n\n“What do you think I’m doing? Youthful people like you, filled with Stem Cells. I want them, I have injuries of my own to fix. Now hold still”\n\nThe needle slipped into his skin and filled his arm with a burning sensation. “Four days of injections and you’ll be set for harvesting. Your sister there” she pointed behind her to the table “I got greedy and took them straight away. There’ll be plenty left over from you though”\n\nHe could not hold back the screams any longer. He shouted for help, when that didn’t seem to work, he got angry and shouted obscenities of all kinds as he struggled against the restraints once more. The woman didn’t flinch at a single word, the look of boredom finally appearing. She walked out of view and returned shortly with another needle. It punctured the skin with another burning sensation. She threw the needle away and returned to the table. The last thing he saw was the woman push his sister’s corpse onto the floor before his vision went dark." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: \"After dying, every sentient being receives an offer to gain power that which rivals God's own. But for some reason nobody has ever accepted.\" Or at least, that's what you heard from the other soul next in line. You're about to go next." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "the thought rung in my head, buzzing back and forth. \"would i actually be able to gain powers that rival god himself?\" i pondered. \"or is it just a rumor? just something someone made up to rile up the masses and kill time?\" i noticed my hands had begun to shake. I became anxious, terrified, yet somehow collected at the thought. \"what would i even do with powers like that?\" i thought \"would i use them to help others or to somehow benefit myself? would i even need to benefit myself with powers like that?\" before i could collect myself, the angle screamed \"next in line!\" and i shuffled into my meeting with the all powerful deity himself.\n\nbeyond the gates, the room was a pearly white. surrounded by clouds puffy and eternal sunshine. in the center of it all sat a large being, but he seemed so human it was inconceivable that it was god. but the second he asked me \"so, why are you dead? what brought you before me?\" shocked at the quick timing, I thought for a little, then answered. \"well, i was walking my dog, and when i was picking up his poop in the middle of the street, a car came by and hit me.\" he looked at me with confusion, then said\n\n\"so it was your own negligence that got you killed?\"\n\n\"well, no you see i was-\"\n\n\"you were walking your dog, and while you were neglecting your surroundings, a car came by and hit you? am i wrong?\"\n\n\"no, your not wrong, i just-\"\n\n\"you just what? i seemed to have deduced your mortal dilemma quite fast.\"\n\ni sat there for a little while, thinking of something to say, but nothing seemed to come to mind beyond my original excuse. then god came to a conclusion\n\n\"oh i see, you were in a moral query, am i wrong?\"\n\ni was taken aback. i had no clue as to what he was referring too.\n\n\"w-what do you mean, moral query?\"\n\n\"well, just prior to walking your dog, you did your daily routine of waking up and making yourself breakfast. you fed your dog some dog food you bought at your local convince store and you both drank water. afterwards you took her outside for some fresh air and a walk. and while you were walking her she seemed to have used the bathroom on the crosswalk. Then, a car came out of nowhere and sidelined you.\"\n\n\"i mean, yes. that is everything that happened that day, but what does that have to do with my 'moral query?'\"\n\ngod sighed a long sigh and looked me in the eyes. i could feel his cold gaze rising up my body, yet it somehow it felt inviting, as if it was trying to tell me something.\n\n\"look, i dont have time for this, i have many, MANY more waiting outside those gates and they are just as egar as you are to get in. so-\"\n\n\"wait\" i was scared, my voice quivering. \"i think i know what you mean.\"\n\ngod looked at me with amusement. \"really now? well, what is it?\"\n\ni honestly had no clue as to what he meant, but i feel like i needed those powers. so i pressed on. \"OK, so i did my daily task, right? but i do that every day. Day in and day out, like clockwork. i wake up, make breakfast, feed my dog\" i was running out of things to say \"and then i take her out, and...\"\n\n\"and what?\"\n\n\"and, and.\" then, like a 4 ton truck burning down the road, it hit me. \"and then i go back inside, and do nothing all day.\"\n\ngod seemed interested. \"go on.\"\n\n\"and i just sit around and play video games. all day. i don't do anything, i don't have a job anymore so my parents give me money every month, my last 3 girlfriends left me, and i could barely stand on my own two feet without someone else. for so long, for so fucking long i haven't done anything with or for myself! absolutely nothing!\"\n\ngod seemed quite pleased with this response. \"well, you seemed to have got it.\"\n\nhe leaned back in his chair, hands pressed against the back of his head, and said \"now, i have a question for you. do you want to be more?\"\n\nconfused, yet still reasonably confident about coming to terms with myself, i asked \"what do you mean by that?\"\n\n\"exactly what i said. Do you want to be more?\"\n\n\"i mean i suppose.\" then i remembered what the man in the line said, \"god gives powers that rival his own, but no one has ever accepted it.\" and that thought overtook me once more.\n\n\"that guy in line said 'i give powers that rival my own, but no ones ever accepted them,' didn't he?\"\n\n\"yes...\"\n\n\"yea, he just does that to rile up the crowds and get attention. you know how long that line is. its hell waiting for that long, i know.\"\n\ni sat down, a little disappointed, but still in reasonable spirits.\n\n\"you still haven't answered my question, or at least entirely.\"\n\n\"oh, yea. well, i would like to be more, i feel like anyone would, honestly.\"\n\n\"but why?\"\n\n\"well, i guess, hmm...\" i sat there and thought for a little, but then, just like before, it came to me. \"I know.\"\n\ngod perked up.\n\n\"i want to help others. I want to make sure others don't fall into the same pit i did. I want to make sure that this feeling doesn't occur to anyone, this feeling of emptiness, of nothing. I want to get rid of it entirely!\"\n\nlooked at me for a few seconds, then laughed.\n\n\"ha ha ha, i know your eager, but not so fast.\" he wiped a tear from his eye. \"you still have much to learn about leading people.\"\n\nit just occurred to me what he was referring too \"you mean, im going to be a?\"\n\n\"yea, you are. well, not of this realm at least. And i did lie, he was just weeding out those who want power for the sole sake of wanting power, and nothing more.\"\n\ni was in pure shock, \"so, what happens now?\"\n\n\"Well, you will go off to another realm, and become god there.but you still have much to learn about both yourself, and being a god. but don't worry. ill teach you.\"\n\nbefore i could express my gratitude, a blinding white light gleamed all around me, and I felt as if I was being moved at the speed of light, if not faster. not more than 2 seconds later, i appeared in a completely dark room, all dark exempt for a single, lonely light in the middle. before i could figure out where i was, it said, \"here, let me help you help others.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Judgment Day" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The sky split with the sounds of thunder, punctuated by guttural roars and the faint shouted orders of soldiers and commanders. Archers dotted the seaside cliffs but they didn't loose arrows, they had tried that and every arrow had harmlessly bounced off the monstrosities without so much as a scratch.\n\nRain poured down, hammering helmets and churning the hard packed earth to a thick sludge under the boots of heavy infantry moving back and forth to defensive positions. Some simply stood and watched the great battle unfold.\n\nThe Titans had protected the sea cliffs for a hundred generations, never speaking and never failing in their tasks. They had been the great wall that defended both human empires from each other. Ships carrying cargo were permitted to pass but invasion fleets had been easily smashed aside by the half dozen Titans that patrolled ceaselessly.\n\nAn uneasy peace had been brokered by the threat of destruction.\n\nOnly now a Titan was engaged in melee against another, two giants of rock and fire and ice slamming humanoid fists into one another. They grappled, moving slowly as they towered into the storm split sky, each trying to rip the Heartrock from the other.\n\nThe archers knew they couldn't help and the infantry feared getting close to the feet of a Titan but they could see the fleet rocking in the stormy ocean not far from the great battle. Waiting, plotting. Along the coastline the army mustered, bringing great siege weapons to the edge of the cliffs and marching squadrons of infantry to defensive positions.\n\nIf their Titan fell they would be powerless. If the enemy Titan fell they would be safe.\n\nIf both fell it would be war.\n\nTitans were even matches in combat and so far the half dozen had been reduced to just this final showdown. The others had all ended in a violent draw. The coastline was vastly undefended but the fleet did not move forward yet. Not while a Titan could still stand.\n\nTwo priests chanted while infantry and archer cheered on their Titan, not that it would help but it made them feel better. Commanders drew up plans as hastily as they could and moved troops to weak spots on the coastline. They had more than two dozen landing points to hold but they had the great river to retreat to. Only three crossing points and each was guarded by a fortress.\n\nAt least one million innocent souls lived between the coast and the safety of those walls though and not many had yet begun to evacuate to safety.\n\nThey hadn't had to for years.\n\nAnother great strike sounded out like thunder as a flaming fist struck a heaving blow against the ice and rock of the enemy Titan. The enemy stumbled back in the shallow water but regained itself and struck it's own heavy blow, sending enormous pieces of flaming rock into the sea to fizzle and sink to the bottom.\n\nBoth reeled and then both struck.\n\nThe soldiers knew it before the blows landed and watched in horror as the last two Titans fell, gaping holes in their chests where each had pierced the others Heartrock at the same moment. The bright, diamond like Heartrock was all that gave them life. Without it, they crumbled to pieces into the shallow waves.\n\nAs they died and the rain continued, all watched the fleet advance. Tens of thousands of ships.\n\nSiege weapons began launching their missiles, great flaming pots of oil and heavy barbed spears filling the air as the fleet drew closer. In return the ships began to fire their own artillery from wide, stabilized ships. There was a moment where the rain filled sky was lit with lightning to reveal the vastness of the entire fleet that approached.\n\nSoldiers swallowed hard and gripped their hilts and pikes tighter, archers nocked arrows to their bows and drew back crossbow strings, cavalry horses stamped in the mud. In the cold rain each man and beasts breath gathered in thick clouds of fog.\n\nFor a moment the air was still, just for a moment.\n\nThen the dying started." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: \"So why do they call you the evil witch of the dark forest?\" \"Um, cause of all the murders and hexing I do.\" \"No not the witch part, that's obvious. Why do they call it the dark forest? All the flowers and trees, its quite nice here.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The witch gave him a pitiful look. His heart sunk. There are moments where a look of compassion or sympathy can be taken for pity. This was not one of those moments. His captor was looking at him with a pitiful stare that ate at his very soul.\n\n“Boy,” she said, “what you have walked through to get here is perhaps my greatest accomplishment. The forest that you walked through is not a thriving, breathing place. The birds you hear chirping are the calls of carrion birds and corvids. The trees are not abundant with foliage, nor do the forest floors house flowers and shrubs. These trees are barren and all but dead. Nothing grows here that I do not sow myself. Animals do not come here unless they come to die and leave their bodies for me to use as materials.”\n\n“This whole place is ‘The Dark Forest.’ You’ve fallen victim to an illusion that most people either see through and avoid, or break and try to search out the creator. They try to find me and instead find their end. But you? You wandered here like a child following a trail of sweets and I never even had to bait the hook.”\n\nHis body was beginning to lose feeling. It occurred to him only now that something on the forest trail had nicked him, and the area where he was scratched was swelling and pulsing. He felt his jaw go slack and his vision cross. His legs gave out and he crumbled to his knees. Spittle and bile was rising from his gullet and spilling from his mouth. The witch knelt beside him and made him lay down with his head on her lap. He stared out at the forest. The scenery began to flicker.\n\n“You know,” she said, “despite what you may have heard, I never harm nor have I harmed a child. Most children who come here don’t know any better. Some are abandoned while others are runaways. People say I ‘eat children’ or ‘make them my servants’ but really I just send them on their way. They’ve done nothing wrong. But men...”\n\nShe began to stroke his hair.\n\n“Men come to me seeking selfish things. Love potions, power, wealth, my hand, my life. They come to strip what they see as a beautiful forest of its resources so that they may pursue selfish interests. Children never return because I send them to places where they may find a life worth leading and love from someone who cares. Perhaps they won’t become like those who wish me harm. Men, I’m afraid, are the ones who truly never leave.”\n\nHer hand ran through his hair the way his mother used to when he was a child. It was soothing. He couldn’t feel his arms now. His extremities were growing cold but her lap and her hands felt so warm.\n\n“I suppose the only solace either of us can have in this moment, is that you will die seeing a beautiful glade rather than the reality. I’ll make it so you fade into the afterlife with the splendor of nature as your final sight. Listen. Do you hear the creek nearby? The call of the jay birds as they dart through the rustling trees? Do you feel the warm glow of the sun on your face? The way it cuts through the canopy just to grant you it’s light? Can you smell the lush grass and the aroma of the flowers?”\n\nHe wanted to reply. Everything was more vibrant now. He did feel the sun on his face. He saw everything, heard everything. He could smell the rich earth and grass and the flowers. It was perhaps the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen or experienced. He wanted to say something but all he could muster was a soft groan.\n\n“I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep. It’s not safe to sleep alone in the woods. I’ll watch over you. Don’t worry.”\n\nShe kept stroking his head and he stared at the beauty of the forest until his eyes could no longer stay open." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 900-1000 words. Prompt: The new family in town is a little odd, and everyone is fully aware that they are eldritch horrors from beyond the stars making a bad human impression for reasons probably beyond our understanding, but they are genuinely lovely \"people\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Technically it was a secret, only spoken of in occasional whispers near the water fountain or behind the locked door of the faculty lounge, but everyone already knew that everyone knew, including Henrietta herself. She stopped pretending to hide it in high school, when during homeroom she proudly announced that her father was ‘visiting the Andromeda galaxy for work; an entropic anomaly was threatening the balance of space-time and so he’d been called away to deal with it.’ She explained that she usually got picked up from school, but in lieu of her father’s absence she’d need to take the bus.\n\nEveryone would swear she was just a normal girl; her pale skin and snow white hair were the symptoms of a rare pigmentation disorder. People’s tendency to enter a trance-like state and obey her commands was just her stunning charisma, not a manifestation of dark compulsion magic. Her inhuman strength was the product of extensive exercise and good genes, not her ability to warp gravity and space-time to her will. Her lineage had been something everyone ignored, like a rotting corpse in the corner that everyone could smell, but refused to look at directly.\n\nBut now the corpse had stood up and waved its arms around. The teacher stared at her, mouth agape. A pencil rolled off a desk and clattered to the floor. People had been able to trick themselves into believing that the rumors where just rumors, but not after that. Henrietta’s father was Aljemiahel, an eldritch abomination of legend, and she was his daughter; half human, half… whatever in God’s name Aljemiahel was.\n\nA girl that sat to her left screamed, and set off a domino effect of fear and terror that rocked through the classroom like a wave. Henrietta’s resolve wavered, and the cloud of fear that had gathered in the room engulfed her. She winced, closing her eyes and lifted a hand to press against her forehead as the other students’ perception of her began to warp her appearance. Her neck length white hair lifted and began to writhe as if each strand had a mind of its own, her hands stretched and curled into claws, and a pair of wings made of white noise began to form at her back. She grit her teeth, seemingly in pain, but managed a smirk through it. “Heh, so that’s what you all really think of me…” she spoke laboriously.\n\nHer eyes were always a very pretty, even if unsettling, red, but when she opened them, her left eye had turned to a deep luminescent blue, her iris and pupil spinning and swirling like a whirlpool or, if you got close enough to see, a galaxy full of stars, planets, comets and black holes. The other students were still shrieking and crying, and even the teacher had joined them. A whirlwind whipped up in the classroom, and torn pages of text books and other loose sheets began to fly and flutter about the room; some of them twisted impossibly into origami butterflies and moths. Henrietta screamed wordlessly and pulled at her hair as her pain seemed to overtake her.\n\nUnperturbed, at least compared to the others, I sprang from my seat two desks in front of Henrietta and darted towards her; this wasn’t the first time I had seen her like this. My hands dove into the bag that hung from her chair and sifted through her things until I found her cloth eye wrap. I batted away a moth made of geometry proofs as I retrieved the cloth, face Henrietta, and pressed it against her galactic eye. The girl gasped, startled, and the whirlwind died down a little. Her claws where still gripping her hair, so gently, I set my free hand against one, and pulled it away, and then the other. “Deep breaths Henrietta. You’re okay,” I said calmly, and then pulled the band of the eye wrap over her head to hold it in place. Her teeth unclenched, at which point I realized they had become jagged fangs, but I ignored that for the moment. The whirlwind completely dissipated and the flying papers had returned to their original forms and settled to the floor. “Everyone calm down!” I called out, and between that and the subsidence of the wind, most of the students quieted, even if still terrified.\n\nOne boy was still yelling loudly, and I saw Henrietta’s head turn towards him, now the sole source of noise. Swiftly I stepped away from Henrietta and over to the boy, squared my shoulders towards him, and slapped him across the face as hard as I could. Stunned, his voice caught in his throat. “Shut the hell up and stop panicking. You’re fine,” I growled at him.\n\nAn uneasy voice rose. “Y-yes, everyone… th- that’s enough of that racket now.” I turned to see the teacher attempting to take back control of the classroom, though she was shaking and her eyes were glazed over. “I ex… expect better behavior from sophomores… r- right? Right. I need to finish attendance now.” Some confidence found its way back into her voice as she got the morning routine back on track, apparently forgetting everything that had just occurred.\n\nThe sheer mutual terror that had plagued the room seemed to have passed, and the students began focusing back on the teacher and returning to their desks if they had left them. Henrietta herself was beginning to turn back to normal; her wings and claws had subsided, but her hair was still writhing. “Miss Simon, I’m going to take Henrietta to the nurse’s office.”\n\n“Yes, that’s fine, bring a hall pass with you,” she bid me.\n\nI nodded and grabbed Henrietta’s hand. “Come on, let’s go,” I coaxed her quietly.\n\nr/TheCornerStories" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: When a necromancer from eastern Europe shows up in a warzone, the Army has to quickly change one of their taglines. \"No man left behind\" becomes \"No man left without a double tap\"." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We didn't understand it at first. I looked at my buddy and scrugged a little awkward. Stupid brass we thought..\n\nI was a combat nurse. Been a medic from the start of my career.b I do not like to kill people, but I'll fight if I must. But to do this. This was pure horror.\n\nWe went in first. Air Assault. I looked at my brothers as we entered the Chinook. Some guys I did not know. But I've been on deloyment with most. Those days it was Afghanistan or Iraq. That was a walk in the park compared to this.\n\nThe captain told us in the mission brief all the specifics. When we first heard it we thought it was some ridiculous Army scenario. Shit, I've took part in some shitty exercises in the past. But this one was the all time number one. During the briefing he told us \"No man left behind without a double tap\" and looked at me intensly. When it was time to ask questions I raised my hand. I asked what my purpose in all this was since we had to finish everyone. Kinda nullified my job description. His face was grimm. The look in his eyes was hard but there was something else. A sadness. He dismissed everybody exept me.\n\nThe cap looked at me. I've known him for a while now, but never seen him like this before.\n\n\"Look\", he said. \"This is gonna be hard to accept but you must make sure they do as they are told. They will want to help each other but they can't. They will look at you for help. But you cannot give it to them. You will help them by following my orders. This thing is real. The treath is real. Those men fight, they don't think. I need you to be the one who does. I know this is hard but the alternative is worse. I know it conflicts with your ethics but promise me you wil do as I say!\"\n\nI looked at him with fear in my eyes. \"What the fuck is going on?\", I asked.\n\n\"I already told you. This is real son. I'm sorry it had to be you, but you must do this. Do it for them, for me. But do it nonetheless.\" There was a silence. His face was still, but full of pain. I made the promise. Still not fully understanding but I saw the determination in his eyes. He meant it all.\n\nThe loadmaster sinaled the two minute sign. I felt the natural adrenaline rush through my body. I looked at my buddies and saw the concentrated looks in their eyes. But also exitement. This is what they do. I remembered my task and felt a little sick. But there was no time for that sort of stuff. The Chinook had hit the LZ.\n\nWe ran out, and formed a huddle. The helicopter took off and the usual brown out hit us right in the face. After it cleared we stood up only to be hit by a RPG. At least, that is what we tought it was. When I got my senses back it I saw him.\n\nHe was hoovering in the sky. He spoke. He spoke words I did not understand. Some of my buddies started to flinch. Next to me more movement. My captain was awake. He shouted at me. In front of me one of my buddies stood... Arms limp along side his body. And he rushed towards me. Before he could reach me the captain shot him in the face. Twice. I was horrified. But there was no time to think. More stood up and attacked their comrades. Without remorse. They fell upon their brothers and tore them apart.\n\nWe fell back. Tried to find cover but there was none. All around us was chaos and panic. I shot so many. Sometimes I wasn't even sure they were turned. But I could not take any chances.\n\nMy friends, my brothers. I'm so sorry. But there was no alternative. There was only one remedy against this evi .\n\nWe are cornered. There is no more escape. No help coming. I do not want to anymore. After today there is nothing left of me. Nothing to go back to. Not from this.\n\nI see him. Floating just above the field. Slowly making his way towards me. I can't double tap myself... So, I pull the pins out of two grenades. He slowly shows a smile. A evil, maliscious smile. I respond in the same manner and let go of the grenades.\n\nNote: feedback much appriciated! Just keep it civil. Thanks!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You started a young hero with bright eyes full of hope. Decades have left you with nothing but cold, cruel logic. It has gotten you here to the last moment of your last battle with the final evil. Here, with a last desperate spell, the villain forces you to recognize what you've become." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the hero raised his sword to the dark wizard's neck, he displayed his flair by uttering the threat he had been saving for years. \"Any last words, Alazar?\"\n\nAlazar was out of spells. Hemlock had him dead to rights. He took a breath, and that's when realization struck him. \"Is that alcohol I smell on your breath?\"\n\nIt wasn't a spell, per se, but it had a stronger effect than any other magic words he could have uttered. Hemlock was certainly taken aback. \"Of all things, you choose to point out my drinking?!\"\n\nOne doesn't make it far as a dark wizard without seizing opportunities, and Alazar saw a golden chance here. \"I mean, it's quite amusing that you'd be drinking before the fight of your life, don't you think?\"\n\nHemlock grew defensive, his voice cracking. \"Listen, I function perfectly fine when I drink. I know my limits.\"\n\n\"Sure, Hem. I understand what this world does to a person. Trust me, I get it.\"\n\nHemlock aggressively pressed his sword harder against Alazar's neck, drawing a bit of blood. \"Shut up! We are nothing alike! You don't know anything!\"\n\n\"Really? How are the wife and kids, Hem?\"\n\nThose words caused Hemlock to break. He staggered back, sheathed his sword, and took a seat against the wall, opposite Alazar. \"They left me. Just like everyone else always does.\"\n\n\"Like a punishment for doing the right thing. I understand, my friend. It's maddening.\" Alazar made his way over to his alchemy desk and began fumbling around to make a potion. He continued speaking. \"You know, Hem, no one truly comprehends what we go through. They consume the legends surrounding our actions but fail to consider the toll it takes. Trust me, being the bad guy, I know better than anyone. The stories always glorify the good and erase the bad. But sometimes, we must acknowledge the dark parts, or they will consume us entirely. A half-truth is no truth at all.\"\n\nHemlock rose from his seat against the wall and moved to sit across from the alchemy bench. Alazar handed Hemlock a beer potion, which he sipped while talking. \"It's like this: the people adore me, but deep down, I know that if they saw everything, they wouldn't. I fight for the greater good, but I have my own demons. No one saves me from them. What does a hero do when he needs a hero himself?\"\n\n\"And to vanquish those inner demons, all you need to do is confront them from time to time without feeling like a monster. It's a slippery slope that leads people to the dark side, Hem. Trust me, I know.\"\n\nHemlock experienced a catharsis he hadn't felt in years. Alazar had to admit that the conversation was good for him as well. \"Hey, Hem, why don't we stop what we've been doing? Why give those bastards more stories when we don't even feel like they're about us?\"\n\nHemlock contemplated this idea numerous times, but hearing it voiced brought tears to his eyes. \"How, though?\"\n\n\"Easy. I'll introduce you to some of my friends. We'll welcome you into our circle, and we'll focus on living instead of building legends. They understand the struggle too. It'll be like our own little therapy group.\"\n\nHemlock finished his potion in one gulp. \"You know what, Alazar? You're not such a bad guy after all. Let's do that. To hell with living legends. Let's just try living.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You decided to get a tattoo based on one found on the well-preserved body of a Neanderthal. But in doing so, you have bound your soul to an ancient and forgotten god." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If I have any piece of advice to give to the younger generation it’s this: Don’t do anything cool, or fun, or enjoyable because you will die horribly and your last thoughts will be “I sure wish I had just been a boring nobody, then none of this would have happened”. Those are my last words God, take em! Shove em’ down your divine throat and let them pass through your eternal digestive tract, then shit them out your celestial ass. I’m done. I’m no longer under your control, Ha!\n\nGranted, I should have been a little bit more self-aware when you first spoke to me. Twenty-five year old me should have found the closest firearm, stuck it underneath my chin and pulled the trigger. But alas, my stupid past self decided anything would be better than suicide. I wasn't a good guy before. I wasn't a good guy when you spent all those years in my head, I sure as hell don't have any chance of being a good guy in the future. Well, I wouldn't be so sure of that.\n\nSee, God, I know a few things about you. You’re old, like hella old. Like billions of years old. You see life as an infant consciousness that you can feed from. A tasty snack that comes around every now and then. You had fun playing with the minds of my ancestors. You’d speak knowledge into their heads and they worshipped you for it. You found joy when their knowledge brought them ruin, and revelled in their suffering. You knew it would be the same when you found me. I mean, it was, mostly.\n\nYou're just, so, ugh. Like seriously. Human sacrifice? Really? That’s so 1000 years ago, God. I bet there are a bunch of Eldritch deities whispering into each other’s ears just loud enough for you to hear. “Hey, that’s Tkikr’ Stkol (whatever your name is), he still thinks sacrificing babies is cool”, “really? What a wierdo”. I bet you would eat your lunch in the classroom alone because all the other ancient gods would tease you if you showed your face in the cafeteria. I don’t even need to know if that’s true. You’re just a loser God with nothing better to do than pick on weaker life forms because you can’t go toe to toe with the real ones.\n\n“Meak Val’ Stkit Rul”\n\nOh ho ho ho ho. It speaks! God has spoken to me! I am blessed by divine enumeration! I am chosen! Hah hah hah hah hah! What a load of crap. I find it interesting that you never took the time to learn English. All the years in my head and it never occurred to you to try and communicate at all with me. You're hella introverted, shit-God. You see, I know you understand me, but you like it when nobody understands you. You also think your language is pure and superior, but you don’t have anybody to talk to. Loser!\n\n“Vaek Sul’ Rokk Gol”\n\nOh! Look at that, you’re trying to melt my mind again. I feel you tugging away at my memories. Do you like them? Do they give you the energy you need? Do you enjoy replaying the images of burning cities, screaming people, men trying to scoop their entrails back into their bodies? You’re just re-living the good times. Holding on to the past like it means something.\n\nHere’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna sit here until I die. Got it? You can control my brain, but not my body. Yeah, wierd how that works. Right now you’re telling me to walk straight into the nearest house and murder everyone inside, great idea. But guess what? My body won’t move, no matter how much I tell it to. Oh I know I’m not restrained, and I know it’s not far. But. My. Body. Will. Not. Move.\n\n“You will die if you don’t”\n\nHeh, first thing you’ve said I actually understand. I think I’ve got a day or two before the elements get me. Nobody is gonna find me here, either, and mistakenly resuscitate me. The game’s over God. We’ve got some time left, let’s get to know each other." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You're an agent of the IORC, the Interstellar Order of the Red Cross, your job is to make sure generals and warlords across the human space to follows a set of humanitarian laws. Everybody underestimated you until some dictator decided to step out of line." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Delilah had gotten off assignment and was ready for a long awaited vacation. She had planned to visit the city planet Ur and enjoy their reactor gardens. It was not to be as her phone lit up with alerts from the Carvolo sector.\n\nShe scrolled through her phone, looking for the dictator she was going to make pay for this. Colonel Droidt was supposed to be using his mechs as assault troops. He had snuck nuclear weapons on his soldiers and detonated them in civilian centers.\n\nShe was so tired. At least she would get some sleep on her way to Arvin, where civil war had torn the system apart. She remembered having to make an inspection of General Pross' armory to ensure he wasn't abusing AI.\n\nShe dimmed the lights in her cabin and stumbled towards her bed. She set her phone down and fell on the mattress, looking at her phone flash. It was a single red light flashing the alert; she forgot to dismiss it.\n\nDelilah wanted to dismiss the alert, but she grew weak and unmotivated. Her body was so heavy that she sank into the bed. Her ship carried her to the Carvolo sector where she would reign righteous judgement on Droidt for nuking civilians and ruining her vacation.\n\nDelilah woke up to alarms as her ship shook violently. Colonel Droidt had decided to greet her with his war fleet and caught her off guard.\n\nDelilah scrambled to the cockpit of her ship where she struggled to regain control. She put her phone in a slot and ran a cleaning app that slowly restored the systems on her ship.\n\nAs she slowly regained control of individual systems, she checked the sensors. She had been nuked. Nuclear weapons were allowed in space but attacking an agent of the IORC was a severe mistake.\n\nAny chance to plea for mercy was lost. She had intended to land and discuss terms for removal of illegal weapons and fines. She had secretly hoped it wouldn't go so smoothly. She got her wish.\n\nShe started tapping on her phone until she reached Red Cross Command. \"Carvolo Sector, Planet Syndov. Confirmed use of nuclear weapons. Illegal use on civilians not confirmed. Investigation interrupted. Confirmed obstruction of investigation.\"\n\nHer ship rattled with gunfire bouncing off her shields as she worked the console. \"Investigator ship under attack. Enacting drone drop protocols.\"\n\nHer hands danced across the console as her ship danced around the attacking ships. Her small craft was capable of withstanding the most withering of fire. She was also capable of crippling the ships near her.\n\nHer craft was loaded with several particle cannons that shredded two attacking capitol ships as she continued with her report. \"Drone drop on my mark. Mark\"\n\nDozens of silver apple seeds appeared from blue clouds of lightning. As each ship spun up its mass drivers to attack, the silver seeds raked the ships with silver blue streams of light, cutting the attacking ships to pieces. Bodies and parts of ships began to fill the orbit of the planet.\n\nWith the attacking fleet gone and the planet effectively under IORC blockade, Delilah landed her ship, grabbed her phone and called down an escort of drones to see her safely to Droidt's fortress. She would see to it he was thrown out an airlock for taking her away from her vacation." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You're not 100% certain, but you're fairly sure there are two spies duking it out outside your bathroom stall." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alexander Knobles wishes, beyond anything he could possibly wish, he had not had that second cup of coffee. Barely getting the bathroom stall door shut and his pants out of the way he sat down to unleash the pent up fury that had been building within his tortured soul. A moment of relief is quickly overwhelmed with the aroma of slick fear, and his brain works in double time to ascertain whether he will die here in this small basement men’s room in old town Stalingrad, thousands of miles away from his home in small-town Vermont.\n\nA few seconds of familiar sounds from the adjoining restaurant fills the space as the door to the men’s room opens, and then closes silently. Footsteps echo over the blood raging in Alexander’s ears from the labors of his dilemma. The feet pause at the sink in front of his stall door, and everything goes silent. They aren’t the feet he was expecting to see, but are those of a woman, and the feet are wearing the most elegant high heeled shoes he has ever seen. The water turns on and the woman washes her hands with care; gently and thoroughly. She finishes, dries her hands, and turns to stand facing the main door. A moment later someone else enters the bathroom. The same sounds from the restaurant surround Alexander for a few seconds... a connection to a normal world that now seems an infinite distance away. A lifetime away. This second person stays near the door after it shuts, and Alexander’s heart drops as he hears the distinct sound of the deadbolt being thrown, locking him in with these two mystery persons, and them with him and his internal distress.\n\nThe new person steps forward, a pair of expensive men’s shoes pauses a short distance before the woman’s. He speaks with a heavy German accent, a voice like the sound of gravel being crushed, “The garden is full of weeds this year, the herbicide isn't working. ”\n\n“Perhaps you should use a shear to clip the weeds.” replies the woman. Her English is superb, but there’s still a tinge of a Russian background buried deep. How Alexander picks up on this he attributes to the heightened senses of his unfortunate situation.\n\nThe man take a moment to continue. Alexander can HEAR the man tilt his head before saying, almost accusingly, “Shears are too indiscriminate; besides, weeds must be pulled out by the roots. After all... it will be autumn soon.”\n\n“Yes. But for some...” the woman take a step back, “it will be WINTER soon!” She lunges forward, her feet a blur, and two begin a fight the likes of which Alexander has never felt before. Felt, because their epic battle rattles the very confines of his existence. Pushing against the walls of his private sanctum, threatening the last shreds of his human decency. Alexander locks his arms against the stall door as the two bodies are constantly smashed against it. The hinges rattle themselves loose and the latch screams with greater and greater distress. And just as suddenly as it begins the cacophony of noise ends, and silence completely fills the small room. The lack of noise is a tangible thing, overpowering all other senses. From the right a trickle of blood slowly zigzags across the tiled floor, a brilliant red against a stark white. Footsteps shatter the silence and make their way across the bathroom. Once again the high heeled shoes pause at the sink in front of his stall. The woman washes her hands with care; gently and thoroughly. The trickle of blood veers towards Alexander and creeps under his door. She finishes, dries her hands, and turns now to stand facing the stall.\n\n“Asset validation,” she speaks through the door, “Longing. Rusted. Seventeen. Daybreak. Furnace. Nine. Benign. Homecoming. One. Freight Car. Soldier?”\n\nEverything comes rushing back to him. The missions, the love triangles, the cover within a cover. Everything leading up to Operation Backstop, everything. The man once known as Alexander Knobles stands up, wipes his ass, buckles his pants, and opens the stall door. Svetlana stands there with a smile on her face. They embrace and exchange a passionate kiss. She leans back to look him in the eyes, “Welcome home, Agent 47. Or should I say... AK-47?”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: A freak accident turned a man immortal. Now he tries desperately to replicate the event for someone else, so he won't end up alone for eternity." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When he discovered he couldn't die, he tried to imagine his wife aging. He thought he would be sad and lonely without her. He had imagined the histrionics, the keenly pained looks they would exchange, tears dripping off their faces to mingle on crisp white bedsheets. In reality he grew more and more disgusted with her.\n\nHe sincerely tried not to be grossed out by her papery skin. He tried to sit with her in their rocking chairs on the porch, but couldn't find anything new about the horizon to discuss after a couple decades. Her mind started to go, eventually, and all their shared history seemed to mean nothing, and soon all he could think about was how godawful boring it was to watch someone else age, even someone you had loved for so long.\n\nWhen her eyes finally closed forever, he was relieved. He was tired of pretending to be her grandson, and then her great-grandson. Glad to leave the town they'd settled in, where the old women admired him for his devotion before they succumbed to the same fate; all the while he had to see the young people all around him come into bloom, and not touch them. Now he was free to start over.\n\nIn his new life, he watched an endless supply of young women's perfect bodies bloom into womanhood. They really are like flowers, he thought: their bodies were like plants whose entire life cycles were filmed and then sped up for his viewing. They grew and grew, their faces turned to the sun, and soon they erupted with life, pregnant with babies, possibilities. The seeds of life inside them were expelled and new flowers bloomed as they withered. Watching that process fascinated him, for a time. He fucked them, too, and for a time there was joy in that.\n\nBut soon enough he wanted a companion. He watched a girl mature and then insinuated himself into her life. He liked her quite a bit, and he confided in her, and she married him with her eyes wide open. He had chosen a hearty mate this time, and they cavorted together for well over fifty years. He was kinder to her, in his mind, and forgave her slowing joints and the flab that eventually settled on her formerly taut body. Her mind and eyes were clear, and he cherished her as her body began to fail. But she eventually left him, too. She knew about his first wife, and the obligation he had felt to her, and she asked him to end her life. She would not fade away in the night like his first wife had - but he thought he would never forget the fear in her eyes, how she wrestled with it, as he held the gun under her chin.\n\nAfter he buried her, he didn't know what to do. This period of his life he devoted to exploration. First he saw everything he hadn't seen yet: the poles, the jungle, peaks, caves, catacombs. He spent a few miserable years stuck in a claustrophobic hole in the ground, until he was finally found by a few curious spelunkers. They helped him out, but he had to kill them to keep his secret. Those deaths left an unpleasant taste in his mouth, and he decided not to kill again. It was then that he stopped eating.\n\nThen for a time he became obsessed with leaving Earth, but it was a futile effort unless he wanted to build his own ship, which was a complicated craft that he didn't have the patience for. He considered surrendering to some government or other, thinking that it might be nice to be understood, but he knew they would have questions he couldn't answer. He did not often feel pain, but he thought if anyone could hurt him, it would be a bureaucrat. And anyway, his favorite government soon toppled, and lawlessness governed his homeland.\n\nHe founded something like a commune, and came to think of the orphans who trickled into his care as something closer to pets than fellow people. He didn't hide his affliction from them, and they called him a god. Men and women infiltrated his borders and tried to slit his throat, and he laughed at the tickling of the knives. Once an enemy of his, whose name he would forget, bombed what he was fondly calling the Farm. The immortal man walked into his enemy's camp and killed them all, and this time he felt satisfied.\n\nHe rebuilt the Farm with a more martial eye, and built an army. He expanded his territory by walking toward his enemies and dispatching them in whatever manner was available to him, only running into trouble when they restrained him, or if they managed to hole up where he couldn't get to them. His army followed behind, and he allowed them to do whatever they liked. Eventually he met a force that he couldn't overpower easily, and instead of leading his army into battle, he simply left. He heard later that most everyone died.\n\nHe simply walked now. Planes and cars had fallen into disuse, and he disdained bicycles, preferring to move as slowly as possible. He sometimes met people, but didn't want their company. He made a movement suggesting he'd kill them, and they mostly chose to flee.\n\nSoon he came to the ocean. It was a lazy river to him, and he floated along the currents, leisurely, alone. He met no boats. When he finally ran aground on a new continent, he couldn't find a soul. He wondered what had happened to his race, and went days and then months without setting eyes on another person. Eventually he grew frantic, and his dreamlessness felt like a new sort of madness. He began to see the people he had killed everywhere. His wives, the jolly explorers, his enemies, his armies of innocents. They looked back at him with accusing eyes, weeping eyes, with anger and sometimes forgiveness. He felt the most human he had ever felt.\n\nFinally, as he paced the equator, he found a little village of sickly humans. He called himself god, but couldn't speak to them. He didn't know their language and desperately tried to pick it up – every day his heart pounded: he was afraid they were the last humans, and that they would die before he spoke to them. The men feared him and held their wives close. He didn't realize how he looked to them, with his tall thick body, born in a nutritious age. Only the children would have anything to do with him, and he learned their high-pitched tones and played with them, and felt happy again for a short while.\n\nBut they were dying: poisoned, injured, deformed. The women tried to flower but their babies were too often born dead, and as often as not a man buried two thin bodies, with a little tiny baby nestled in the crook of the mother's still arm. It seemed that this would be humanity's final resting place. Sometimes at night he thought about his second wife, and he imagined pulling the trigger on this throat and burying these last humans, but when he saw the sun rise he forgot the bloody past and couldn't see life without them. He imagined the histrionics, his pain, living without them. He imagined burying them, and watching the sun set without them.\n\nThe last human was a little girl. After he buried the girl's father, she sickened, and he beat his chest and bashed his head against the wall of the mud hut, trying to remember how it had happened, what had changed, what was allowing him to survive them. He tore at his hair when she closed her eyes, and he wept when he returned to her, to listen to her ragged breathing. He held her close, trying to will his life into her lungs. He would die for her, if he could. He closed his eyes to the sunrise one more time, and he counted their breaths. He was grateful for every one of them." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Scientists are thrilled, as they receive the first message from outer space. After the decryption of the message it reads \"We can no longer protect you, we are sorry.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Everyone sat in the large, lecture hall like room anxiously staring at the screen consuming the wall at the front. The progress bar on the decryption software had nearly reached one hundred percent after weeks of attempting to figure out the code that the scientist at SETI had received and no one was willing to miss the results of what was considered one of the greatest events in history. Now that the time was near, everyone who had clearance was clustered together, and others across the country and world were linked into the feeds in the room.\n\nWhen Harold had initially received the transmission his stomach had twisted into a knot. It was repetitive, not at all organic looking in nature like what they saw from some of the pulsars they occasionally came across. This was sequential, and broken up intentionally. He had to calm his nerves, regain his composure and look at this like a scientist. The satellite had been directed at the nearest star with planets orbiting it, but to be honest, they knew their chances were never that great. With the billions upon billions of possibilities they were really hoping for some dumb luck to intervene in their search for intelligence beyond Earth. Seemingly, it had worked.\n\nHe had reviewed the signal, over and over, until he was sure that it was something that had been intentionally created. He rushed it to his peers, anxious for them to see what he had found and confirm what they had all hoped for their entire careers and lives. Before he knew it though, the military saw the information that his colleagues were beginning to believe was fact and not science fiction, and everything instantly became classified. The clearances he had at SETI allowed him to continue working on the project, but more distanced than he would have liked; nonetheless he was happy to still be here to witness this landmark event. The other scientists, generals, and leaders that were surrounding him did nothing but stare quietly at the screen, waiting for the results.\n\nThe screen blinked, and a new window appeared with large lettering that read “DECRYPTION COMPLETE”. Everyone sat forward in the chairs, some stood and the room tensed.\n\n“WE CAN NO LONGER PROTECT YOU, WE ARE SORRY.”\n\nThere was a momentary pause, the group read the text on the screen and after a short second the confusion began. The military leaders began shouting, asking the nearest scientist to them what it meant. Others pulled out their phones and began making calls to people Harold could only guess at. The sickening feeling in his stomach told him that it was not going to be anything good.\n\nThey weren’t the only ones confused, Harold’s head began to spin with questions too. Can this be accurate, he thought, could this really be what someone sent a message thousands of light years to us to say? Nothing more than an apology, and a warning? Before he could get too lost in his own head however, his internal monologue was interrupted by a General from across the room.\n\n“You! You’re the one who discovered this, right? This message has to have been deciphered incorrectly, this can’t be correct!”\n\nReasonable question, thought Harold, his mouth hanging ajar, unable to speak. His mind had not yet caught up to his body, being too busy interpreting what he had read.\n\n“Who’s protecting us from what, anyway!?” Another voice shouted.\n\nA less reasonable question, thought Harold. How was he supposed to possibly have the answer to that question? Suddenly a room full of men and women who were accustomed to giving orders and having their commands obeyed were becoming more and more frustrated with the people around them for not having what they were demanding they have. An answer to an unanswerable question. That was when the chaos truly began.\n\nMultiple phones began to ring almost simultaneously, the bearers answering and slowly their faces became more confused than they already were. An impressive feat, thought Harold. One of them turned to him and pointed at the terminal in front of Harold.\n\n“Find a news channel and put it up on the screen, now!”\n\nThe violence in the mans voice had been enough to bring Harold back to reality as he spun in his chair and found a stream for one of the larger news stations. He projected it to the screen. Everyone in the room fell into utter silence again as if their voices had been stolen from them.\n\nOn the screen in front of them was a phone recording of Paris, the Eiffel Tower allowing the quick distinction. What none of them recognized, however, was the object floating directly above it. A large, perfectly spherical, white ball. It had to be a mile wide, not a single blemish or marking on its exterior, giving the appearance of a shiny cue ball. The silence that came along with the second awestruck moment of the day soon faded, as the dozens of phones in the room began to sound again.\n\nNo one could take their eyes off the screen though. As they watched, more of these white balls began to appear, some already stationary, others breaking through the atmosphere and slowing as they reached their destinations. Only some over major cities, others in apparent random locations across the globe.\n\n“Pull open a satellite feed!” A frantic shout behind Harold yelled. They were in a command center, so it wasn’t too hard for him to find a satellite link and put it up on the screen, although he wondered how he had become the main point of the rooms attention suddenly. As more and more of the UFO’s appeared, they plotted their locations on the screen, soon realizing that they were all perfectly spaced and equidistant from one another, creating a perfect grid around the planet.\n\nEventually, every missing void was filled, the last orb coming to a standstill just off the coast of New York. The room was hectic, every scientist trying to analyze whatever information they could, the leaders and generals barking orders like angry dogs. For the third time that day, the room fell into a panicked quiet. The screen at the front began to become bright white, the orbs had begun to emit a glow that grew brighter and brighter, filling the screen with the overpowering illumination.\n\nThe room went black. The lights had gone out, cell phones died and computers stopped working. The room was noiseless. No one breathed, only the sounds of his heart pounding were audible to Harold.\n\nWhatever they had been protected from, it was here." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You are a dimensional traveler. After traveling for years, you come to the horrifying conclusion that our native Earth is the WORST possible incarnation possible." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Thank you so much for the introduction, and it's really a pleasure to be able to speak with you today.\n\nWhat I'd like to talk about today is some of the discoveries I've made in my travels. As some of you know, I've been Traveling for about a decade now, and I've gotten the opportunity to see and experience a lot of worlds -- or dimensions -- just like our own. But first, let me give you a little bit of a background first. We'll just hit the bullet-points.\n\nYes, I can travel between dimensions.\n\nNo, I don't know how it works.\n\nNo, no one else seems to know either, but there are several good theories.\n\nI can only travel for about 48-hours at a time.\n\nI've visited a little over 200 different dimensions.\n\nNo, I've never met myself, because every time I Travel there, the other me Travels here.\n\nYes, there is a dimension where it rains candy.\n\nOkay, so maybe I made up that last one. But I'm willing to bet that there is a dimension where that exists -- I just haven't stumbled into it yet. But this leads me to why I am here giving this presentation. We need you -- we need engineers. We need to find out one, how I am able to Travel across these dimensions, and two, how we can get others to do the same. Why is this important? Let's forget about the philosophical or scientific implications for just one moment. There's one really important reason why we need to be able to Travel to other dimensions.\n\nAre you ready?\n\nHere it comes:\n\nOur dimension sucks.\n\nI know, you think that I'm making a joke here, but I'm not. Out of the dimensions I've Traveled to, the conclusion that I've reached is that -- not to be a pessimist -- but we're living in the shoddiest, meanest, crudest of dimensions. Humor me for just one moment, and I will share with you a sampling of some of my most recent travels. What I'll do is I'll very briefly list these dimensions defined by the characteristic that sets them apart from our own dimensions. Let's take a look:\n\n#212: Everyone is marginally more attractive.\n\n#211: Cancer does not exist.\n\n#210: World War One never happened.\n\n#209: No one has the capacity to hold a grudge.\n\n#208: The U.S. Congress has a positive approval rating. A very high approval rating!\n\n#207: Africa is less ravaged by war and disease.\n\n#206: Animals we often categorize as cryptozoological exist: bigfoot, Nessie, the jackalope.\n\n#205: The Atlanta Braves had a really excellent 2016 year in baseball.\n\n#204: People seem to be immune to the effects of fascism.\n\n#203: Flatulence smells like fresh grass clippings.\n\n#202: Dogs can talk!\n\n#201: Time travel was discovered and used for charitable purposes.\n\n#200: This was another one where people were just marginally more attractive.\n\n#199: Human memory is no longer subject to failure. People remember everything.\n\n#198: In most parts of the world, the temperature never gets over 90 degrees.\n\n#197: The world is slightly smaller, so there's a little less gravity.\n\n#196: No tornadoes or hurricanes!\n\n#195: Frivolous lawsuits aren't a thing.\n\n#194: I have kids.\n\nThere's probably more to the dimension than just the fact that I have kids, but to be completely honest with you, I didn't see much of the world. I stayed inside and got to know them for the 48-hours that I could share with them.\n\n#193: Atlantis is a global superpower.\n\n#192: The moon landing resulted in the first moon town, and by 2016, we've already colonized both Mars and our moon.\n\n#191: Television's The Learning Channel lived up to its name.\n\n#190: Only bullies get cavities." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 900-1000 words. Prompt: A new school year is starting at the nation's most prestigious Superhero School, and the freshman class faces the usual first assignment: share with the class the most horrifying way you could use your powers as a villain." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Everyone hates the first day of school, it's the farthest possible place away from summer vacation. Normal students try and navigate their way through a storm of awkward social interaction, raging hormones, the real world of adulthood knocking on the door, and worst of all; math class. Heroic Hall had anything but normal students. Its classes were composed of the children of a generation that was growing quickly. A generation of people born with superpowers of all varieties.\n\nThese students had to be kept together, if the general populace was made aware of just how widespread the super genes were in the gene pool, there would be chaos. The faculty at Heroic Hall were all former side kicks to the most potent superheros of their day. All of the reading, writing, and arithmetic one suffers through in the course of normal education was forgone here. Algorithmo's super learning software thoroughly covered all the scholarly topics at a genius level before class formally began, an emphasis on ethics and philosophy.\n\nHeroic Hall's mission statement was simple. Peace through compassion and empathy. All it would take was one rogue super individual to begin a domino effect towards destruction. That is why the thought experiment on the morning of the new school year was so important. Teenagers are rebellious and imaginative, a dangerous combination, especially when laser vision could be involved.\n\nLady Luck, former sidekick of Professor Probability, was teaching the freshman this year. The freshman were always a rambunctious group, some students filled with idealism, other students filled with misplaced angst. She took roll call, everyone was accounted for. She sat down at her desk and called the first name. Gravitas.\n\nGravitas was a lanky, awkwardly proportioned boy. His face covered in acne, his clothes were too tight, it does take a lot of concentration to control gravity. His shrill, nasally voice was offensive to the ear.\n\n\"Hi everyone, I'm Gravitas. I guess if I was a villain I could pull the Earth into the sun, wiping out all life.\" He said sheepishly. A light murmur swept through the classroom. It was overpowered by a menacing laugh from the back of the classroom. Magnetron was laughing, his feet kicked up on his desk. The metal mask he wore morphed into a jovial expression.\n\n\"What good is a dead planet going to do for a villain? Why not pull the Earth close enough to the sun to destroy the o-zone layer and give us all skin cancer?\"\n\nLady Luck stood up from her chair. \"Please do not interrupt the person speaking please. I thought that was a good idea Gravitas, you can sit down. How about you go next Magnetron?\"\n\nMagnetron levitated his chair to the front of the classroom, he dramatically rose from the chair and sent it gently back to his desk. His metal mask went blank, a metal mirror for a face, reflecting the other super people's visages back at them. Magnetron shared a flair for the dramatic like his father, Ionic Man. Magnetron paced slowly while waving his hands as if conducting a symphony.\n\n\"Magnetism. The force that binds us all. Once you master it, you master creation itself. It is the very blood that runs through the veins of this tiny blue dot we inhabit. That presents many pathways to villainy. I could destroy the ionosphere, plunging weather patterns into chaos. I could lift mountains into the sky and make the meteor that killed the dinosaurs look quaint by comparison.\n\nBut where's the villainy in that? Those are merely acts of aggression, like an angry child breaking a toy. No, no, no. True villainy is creative, it's personal. The ferrous blood of the Earth is not what I'm interested in. You there! Remind me of your power.\" Magnetron pointed at Nightdove.\n\n\"Self regeneration and the ability to heal other's wounds.\" Nightdove replied proudly.\n\n\"Can you come back from a heart attack?\" Magnetron asked sinisterly.\n\n\"I don't........\" Nightdove's eyes rolled back in her head, she clutched her chest tightly. A deafening thud echoed in the classroom as she fell from her chair.\n\nMagnetron clapped slowly. \"Apply a strong enough localized magnetic field to a bloodstream and it loses viscosity. Loss of viscosity leads to shortness of breath followed by a heart attack. Since most of us in the room are carbon based lifeforms we all have hearts. Except for some of our alien students, but I have a plan for them as well....\" Magnetron's speech was interrupted by Nightdove springing to her feet.\n\n\"You asshole! That hurt!\" Nightdove was relieved that her power allowed her to recover from that.\n\nMagnetron snapped his fingers. Nightdove's eyeballs exploded in a splash of red and white, she fell to the floor screeching in pain as blood poured from empty sockets. \"What a terrible power you have. You still feel pain? Not a good tradeoff. Now where was I? Let me explain something else to everyone. Every drop of blood has enough iron in it for me to manipulate. Iron maintains its ferrous properties in the blood supply.\n\nAs I demonstrated I've come to learn to localize it within singular organs then rip them apart from the inside out. Looks very painful. The most villainous thing is choice. Comply or die. Either way I win.\"\n\nMagnetron took a bow and floated back to his seat. Nightdove glared at him as her eyeballs regenerated. His mask morphed into a face with pursed lips. \"Nothing personal Dove, I knew you could take it.\" He blew her a kiss.\n\nLady Luck got the classroom under control. This was going to be a long school year." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You are a demon working as a cop. You rarely need your powers but there are some exceptions." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Matthew walked down the street slowly, feeling the cool evening breeze on his skin. It was a beautiful night. The sky was a rosy pink, and the faintest hint of stars had appeared on the farthest edge from the fading sun, where the fiery warmth of the sunset bled into a cool dark blue. He stepped slowly, enjoying the ambiance of the empty street. Eventually, he crossed the road, and stepped into the little park in the center of the square.\n\nThe park was in a curious spot in the city; a small patch of nature walled in by brick buildings and glass skyscrapers on every side. Matthew liked the park. There weren’t many like them where he was from, and he liked the serenity of the green grass and scraggly trees, the gentle sounds of the fountain in the middle. The fountain was encircled by a walking path, like a pitch black river. Matthew liked that too. Ironically, it reminded him of home.\n\nOn the side of the little path, facing the fountain, there was a single bench. It was made of black iron, a remnant of a forgotten time, when public features were built to have character, instead of just being boring slabs of wood or stone. The arms of the bench curved into little designs, like tree branches. Next to the bench was a lamp, made in the same style, black metal sprouting from the ground and stretching up before expanding to form a little bulb that bathed the bench in warm orange light.\n\nUsually the bench was empty by the time Matthew got to the park, but tonight there was someone else there. A young man, practically just a boy, sat on the bench, staring at the ground. He was dressed like a stereotypical college student, in a plain t-shirt and jeans. Matthew walked up to the bench anyways; he wasn’t scared of mingling with the youth occasionally.\n\nHe swept up the bottom of his trench coat and sat down next to the kid, who inched over a little to make room for him. Matthew smiled at that; he’d sat next to teenagers before on the bus, and they’d stood up and moved like he was the plague. He didn’t mind of course. It wasn’t an entirely unfair assessment.\n\nThe pair sat in silence for a moment, before the boy glanced at him. In contrast to the boy’s simple modern clothing, Matthew wore a black trench coat over a vest with a shirt and tie underneath. A fedora sat on his head, completing the look. The boy scoffed under his breath and finally stopped sitting with his back hunched over, opting instead to sit back on the bench like a civilized person. Matthew was glad; sitting like that wasn’t good for the boy’s spine.\n\n“Are you coming from some kind of costume party?” the boy asked, looking at the older man.\n\nMatthew smiled. “Not quite, kid,” he said, leaning his head back to look at the stars. After a moment he tilted his head to look at the boy. “I’m an actual detective, see,” he said kindly. “Detective Inspector Matthew Davis.”\n\nThe boy gave him a cursory snort of acknowledgement. “Tommy Lang,” he told the detective, after a second had passed. Matthew gave him an encouraging nod, hoping he’d keep taking instead of running off. “So uh, you’re a cop,” he added dryly.\n\n“Yup,” Matthew said, smirking as he looked at Tommy’s expression. “I get the sense that you don’t like cops.”\n\nTommy just shook his head. “Do you uh, got any stories?” he asked, staring at the grass.\n\nMatthew sat up a little straighter, and a glint appeared in his eye. He’d hoped the boy would ask for cop stories. Everyone’s always curious, and Matthew had a thing for showmanship. “Yeah, I think I got a good one for you,” he said, turning his body to face the boy. He exaggerated his voice a little too, made it deeper to sound more dramatic. “There’s this one case I’ve been working on lately that’s had me stumped, until just recently. It’s a good story too, you’ll like it.” He paused and looked at Tommy, hoping to catch a reaction. “It’s about a murder.”\n\nTommy made a small grunt to signify he was listening, preferring to continue staring at dirt than focus on Matthew’s captivating narration. Matthew grumbled a little bit, but continued unphased.\n\n“See, a few weeks ago I got a call during the small hours of the morning, something like four or five o’clock.” he told Tommy. He knew exactly when he’d gotten the call of course, but sometimes you had to make things a little vague to tell a good story. Exact numbers were boring, but mystery was how you caught the attention of an audience. “A pool worker at the local rec center was cleaning out the water when he found a dead body at the bottom. It was a young girl, maybe around your age,” he said, trying to keep the story relatable for the kid. Matthew glanced at Tommy. He thought he saw a twitch in his cheek, but otherwise he just continued staring at the ground. Matthew supposed he’d have to up the entertainment factor a little bit more." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 800-900 words. Prompt: \"For the Kingdom!\" The knight shouts a moment before the dragon beats him with his tail. \"Do not approach an evil dragon!\" You shout. \"Am I evil?\" The dragon sounded offended. \"You're coming to my house, trying to steal my treasure, and I'm the evil here?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Well, yeah,” said John. “The villagers said so. And also, you just killed my friend with your tailbeating there.”\n\n“He attacked me, what was I supposed to do?”\n\n“He was just a knight and you’re a big dragon. You could have just pushed him away or something, not kill him. What harm could he do to you anyway?”\n\n“Do you like mosquitos?” said the dragon.\n\n“No, they’re annoying.”\n\n“You know that scratching feeling you get after they suck blood from you? Imagine if that was a small open wound. That’s how it feels for me every time some knight or whatever comes to stick me with their blades. Would you like that? No, because you kill mosquitos for less.”\n\n“I suppose. Do knights often come here and try to kill you?”\n\n“Yes! All the time! And they all say that the villagers sent them.”\n\n“That’s not so strange if what they say is true. They say that you–”\n\n“Killed some of their children, I know, I know. That’s not even what happened.”\n\n“So you didn’t kill those kids?” said John.\n\nThe dragon was silent for a moment. “Okay I did, but the villagers screw up the story to fit their narrative. I was sleeping on the couch and some kids came to my house for who knows what reasons. They broke into the house and poked at me with sticks. I rolled over, fell off the couch on top of the kids and woke up. That’s how they died.”\n\n“The villagers didn’t mention that you slept, actually.”\n\n“Of course they didn’t! And I suppose they didn’t mention that I had gone down to the village several times to tell them to keep their kids off my property. Either the parents only pretended to listen or their kids did because the kids kept coming. Not anymore though. They are afraid to die. I like it that way. That’s why I always kill the knights who try to kill me. I hope that they’ll stop coming, but they evidently don’t.”\n\n“The king has set a price on your head. That’s why they keep coming. People all over the realm are poor as hell right now because of the war.”\n\n“War? What kind of war?”\n\n“Against the schkloopians. It’s a dumb war that few people really want. The schkloopians are a comedic people and one schkloopian made a joke about our king. That joke got around until our king heard it. That’s when he started the war.”\n\n“What was the joke?” said the dragon.\n\n“It goes like this, ‘Why is the king of Floofia so boring? Because he generally does not make jokes and is a very serious person.’”\n\n“That’s the joke?”\n\n“I said that the schkloopians are a comedic people, I never said that they have good comedy,” said John and sighed.\n\n“So essentially, you’re here because of that joke? Because if the king never heard that joke you’d never be poor enough to come here and kill me?”\n\n“I suppose so,” said John and shrugged.\n\n“But you don’t want to be here? And you don’t want to kill me?”\n\n“I actually want to be here because I like dragons and their architecture, but I don’t want to kill you. I’d rather just look at your house to be honest.”\n\n“You like my house?” said the dragon, surprised.\n\n“Yes! I like those cool columns on the front porch and I like the lava bath to the right there. I so wish I was a dragon so that I could take a lava bath. It seems so damn nice.”\n\n“Ah, yes, it’s very nice to sit down in that lava bath after a long day’s work.”\n\n“Dragons work? I didn’t know that. What kind of work do you do?”\n\n“I’m a defence lawyer. I defend all dragons in court cases.”\n\n“Even if they’re guilty?”\n\n“Of course. I don’t try to free them if I think they’re guilty, but I try to get them a reasonable punishment. I mean, some dragons get forty five years for possession of, like, a few grams of tbeeko for example. I don’t think that’s fair, so I help them.”\n\n“Oh, I see. I don’t know much about any of that, but it sounds interesting.”\n\n“Really? You think so?”\n\n“I do, yeah.”\n\n“My dragon friends never think my job is interesting! You know, you seem like an okay person.”\n\n“Thank you! I think you seem like an okay dragon.”\n\n“You know that we can both solve each other’s problems, right?”\n\n“What do you mean?”\n\n“If I kill the king the war with the schkloopians will end. Then more money will be distributed to you and the rest of the people of Floofia. If that happens, the murderous and poor knights will leave me alone.”\n\n“Hey, that’s true! How do we do that?”\n\n“Jump on my back. You show me the way to the king and I’ll fly there and kill him.”\n\n“Let’s go! Hey, what’s your name by the way? We never got to introduce ourselves.”\n\n“I’m Somperlintoon. And you?”\n\n“I’m just John. Now, let’s end this war,” said John and jumped on top of Somperlintoon’s back." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You are the head God, arche of the pantheon, the creator of the earth and the stars, the one above all. And your high priestess is praying that you... watch after this kitten she found?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dagda had watched over humanity since they first came into the light of his world. He blessed them with fire to ward of the terrors of the night, taught their ancestors to hunt, forage and eventually how to sow the seeds that would allow them to bend nature to their will. He tamed the seasons to dance in harmony for them, so as to allow them to till and sow by the cycles he created. All in a simple rhythm that even infants such as them could memorise and master.\n\nThe early Druids saw him as their father, and he in turn nurtured them as his children. Like most children, they saw the world as a magical place, full of wonder and mystery. So he brought forth magics to the world to feed their wonder. They learned science, agriculture, metallurgy and, to his delight, art.\n\nHis favourite of their arts was their music. True, it was simpler than he was capable of, but there was a beauty to it that all fathers see in the art of their children. They sang songs of grand deeds, of heroes both passed and imagined. They sang the histories of their people, and of their love for him. And he loved them all the more for it.\n\nThat time has passed now. Although he loved them still, the magic of the old word had faded. And they spoke of him seldomly, as a creature of fiction from their ancient history. A tale told by their primitive ancestors to find warmth in the darkness. To make sense of a world now enslaved by logic over wonder. All children outgrow their parents, this is true. But it still hurt not to walk among them and share in their songs and his gifts to them. They were finding their own way in the universe now, and as with other rebellious youth, he was still proud of them and knew they would come to appreciate him again as they matured.\n\nOne thing he hadn't expected, was to hear a voice cry out to him so soon. Begging, pleading. With such raw fear and emotion as it screamed his name across the void that now separated him from them. With such faith in her all powerful father and tears in their eyes, she prayed for Dagda to come to her protection. Or rather, to the protection of a beast.\n\nHe had never been fond of beasts. Humanity had developed husbandry of their own accord and while it puzzled him, given the social bonds that they could form with him and each other, what possible benefit could be gained from befriending the beasts of the land. So far they hadn't outgrown this quirk. But he was confident that they would eventually see how frivolous and wasteful it was to share their light with simple beasts. He appreciated their kindness towards them, but thought it misplaced.\n\nThis human girl was the first to call to him in an age, and he needed to reward their faith, to show them that their father still cared for them, still loved them. Even if it meant the protection of a simple beast. He would rescue this beast from its plight. Save it in answer to the prayer of his new priestess and show her his majesty.\n\nAnna was in her backyard, entertaining herself by trying to catch a butterfly when she saw the neighbours tabby \"Mr Kitty\" resting awkwardly in her favourite tree. Mr Kitty was clearly stuck up the tree! She reached for him but the arms of a child are shorter than the trunk of a tree, and she couldn't reach him. A wave of sorrow overtook her as she broke down in tears, bumbling down into an awkward lump as tears welled in her eyes. She began to cry.\n\n\"Dagda! Dagda!! Kiddy Dagda! Kiddy's duck in twee! Daaaagdah!! Hep da kiddy!\"\n\nHer father sighed into his headset. As he pretended to pay attention to another pointless zoom meeting, his daughters cries bounced off his headphones and never reached his ears. But Dagda heard her cries. Reaching his hand through the space between the stars, he plucked up the feline before the very eyes of his newfound priestess and took it onto his bosom and it nestled against his mighty beard. As he looked down at the tiny beast now nestled against him, purring softly. He felt a paternal warmth towards it and a void fill that he didn't know was empty. There was clearly a wisdom in humanity, and in his newfound priestess, for them to recognise the majesty of this tiny beast. He smiled to himself as the two drifted to sleep together.\n\nAs a hand appeared from thin air and snatched Mr Kitty before both of them vanished, Anna could only stare in wonder. Before running to tell her Dad that Mr Kitty was in the tree but he isn't anymore and she doesn't know where he went. Maybe a bad mad could have taken him!\n\nHer father smiled, happy for the distraction as he politely excused himself from the meeting, put down his headset and picked up his daughter. The mind of a child was a wonderful thing." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: \"Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.\" - Confucius" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The customer took a deep breath as the undertaker sized him up: A young man in black from head to toe, with a shooting iron gleaming from the holster strapped to his hip. It looked barely used. After a moment of silence, the customer took a handful of bills and slapped them down on the desk in front of the undertaker.\n\n\"Excuse me sir,\" The Undertaker said in a deep, gravelly voice, \"but might I inquire as to why you are asking for two burial plots?\"\n\n\"Because I aim to commit the terrible and gruesome act of murder,\" The customer responded, his voice quivering slightly as he responded, \"and I don't expect to return alive from it.\"\n\nThe undertaker absent-mindedly licked his lips. \"You do realize I have to inform the sheriff after what you just told me?\"\n\n\"Please do.\" The customer said, slowly taking his gun out of its holster. \"Tell him to come right here, in fact, where Silas awaits.\"\n\nThe undertaker hissed as the customer pointed the gun at him. \"Sir, I do not know what I have done to offend you, but--\"\n\n\"Your face is offending me, now git!\" Silas fired a shot a few inches away from the undertaker's face, causing him to deck behind the desk. \"Didn't you say you'd sic the sheriff on me? How's he gonna come here if you ain't calling him? Get him now!\"\n\nThe undertaker considered his options, then ran past Silas and out the door. Silas, meanwhile, headed out the back door of the mortuary and walked to the graveyard. He walked among the tombstones until he found the one he was looking for, with the name Sidmund Halverson.\n\n\"Hello brother,\" Silas said as he took a seat down in front of Sid's tombstone. \"Been awhile, hasn't it? Didn't think I'd be out West tracking down the one who kilt you.\" He paused for a moment, as if expecting a response from the unmoving stone, then continued, \"Figures you'd do something stupid enough to get yerself kilt by a goddamn sheriff. Even in death you found a way to stain our family name out here, as I'm bound by blood to set things right, 'cept the Law don't take too kindly to anyone pickin' a fight with Its agents, regardless o' why.\"\n\nSilas paused again, hoping for some sort of sign that he should give up this fools errand, that maybe his brother's ghost would somehow float down from Heaven and show him a reason why this was the dumbest idea he had. But nothing came.\n\n\"Well, not like you'd be the type to walk through the Pearly Gates without no trouble anyhow,\" Silas grumbled. \"I s'pose that's what we get for ditchin' church all them Sundays.\"\n\nSilas craned his neck southward as he heard a few men shouting in the distance. He then turned his head to see the an old man with a sheriff's badge pinned to his chest, flanked on either side by a deputy.\n\n\"Silas!\" The sheriff called out, \"I dunno who you think you are threatening our undertaker, but you ain't allowed to just come in this town and threaten people, especially not with a piece! Come quietly, and the worst that happens is jail time!\"\n\nSilas grabbed his gun.\n\nTwo more bodies would be added to the cemetery that day." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: After a fulfilling 65 years with the love of your life, you die and wake up in a metal chair hearing the words “87 years in the matrix, that’ll be $23.50, sir”. You’re 21 again and desperate to find your real-life soul mate—with no clue about who she is or wherever she might be on Earth." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The matrix was fake... to an extent. Every person in there exists upon this Earth, but who they are is an unknown. In the matrix, you don’t remember your life outside, you get to live unburdened. It’s a happy escape to live a lifetime in under a day. Well, it is supposed to be. Many recommended it, experiencing sky diving, rock climbing other dangerous tasks they wouldn’t have been brave enough to try for real. I fell in love.\n\nI couldn’t help it. There were so many options. Both of us stood there, unable to choose. We talked, we laughed. We went together. All the activities. We were inseparable. I wonder if she felt the same... finding each other was a near impossibility now. The whole world to search. Would she even want to meet now? I didn’t have the money to go globe trotting. I wouldn’t be able to search everywhere. The in game names often weren’t even the same as real life. For protection reasons, you could choose your own name, but it was your own risk. So no lead there. I guess I just had to wait. Hope that she reached out.\n\nIt had been a week. Nothing. I tried the internet, searching and looking for her, nothing. Maybe I was too over my head. Too invested over nothing. They could’ve been faking it. Yet it felt so real, even in a simulated world. I was at work. A normal day. A tap on the shoulder dragged me out of it. “Are you Mr Bennings?”\n\n“Umm yes. What would you like?” I said, looking up. His eyes hidden.\n\n“Follow me. I am from the make-a-wish foundation.”\n\nThe make a wish foundation? What... what could they possibly want with me. Who would want to see me? I followed him down the hall to an empty meeting room.\n\n“Ms Olivia Spark has requested you be her wish. You may know her better as Julia.” My breath caught in my throat. “While confidentiality is what the matrix prides itself on, in extreme cases they are allowed to breach such rules. They deemed this case to be special enough. The connection you two had... was out of the ordinary. She has not learned of your name, and you may decline if you wish.”\n\n“No.. no. I... I want to meet her.” I couldn’t help stuttering. Tears in my eyes. A dream come true. Yet it felt wrong. Horrible.\n\nI was taken to her hospital room. She lay there. A smile spread across her lips as she saw me. I couldn’t help as I began to cry. “J-julia... is it really you?”\n\nShe nodded, crying. “You can come over Lachlan. They said you agreed to letting me know your real name. I-I’m sorry we had to meet this way.”\n\n“No, no, no. Don’t be sorry. I’m grateful we were able to meet at all. I never thought I’d meet the real you.”\n\n“Neither did I. I still had my wish and when I woke up, I knew I had to use it to find you. I’m dying... as you may be able to tell. I went in to the matrix to feel alive again. You... you made it so much more special. Maybe bringing you here was a mistake, but... I couldn’t let you go on wondering about me. You deserve someone who can make you happy. You deserve a good life.”\n\n“But.. you make me happy. Is there anything we can do?”\n\n“I’m sorry. It’s too late. I have a month. I don’t want to hold you up. You have brought a smile to my face for the first time in months. And meeting you is beyond my wildest dreams. Promise me, you will make another girl as happy as you made me.” She spoke through tears. Every word a struggle as the toll of her treatment and the emotions flowing throughout her took hold.\n\n“Of course. I promise.”\n\nMore of my stories at r/DougysDramatics if you want to read them." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You wake up in a strange place. A facility with no use, devoid of any people. A strange culmination of sometimes empty or useless rooms. You have no idea why you’re here, or if there is someone here with you. A musty smell fills the air around you as you begin to explore this decrepit location." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When he woke suddenly in the cold and the damp, he opened his eyes to see four concrete walls and a room void of anything that he found familiar. Through the crumbling cement roof, the morning sunlight shone through and softly illuminated the wet floor and the walls all smeared and black with detritus. In the air, he could smell the overbearing presence of moss and mold and his own sweat. As he sat up, he noticed a metal door half-ripped from its hinges. Outside the room, he could hear the hum of the Earth in its turning and the steady drip of water as it fell from the dilapidated ceiling to the floor.\n\nHis arms trembled and shook as he lifted himself to his knees and raised his head to the sky. Even the soft glint of morning light was like an assault to his senses and he shielded his eyes as he waited for them to adjust. He was beyond tired and felt as if he had been awoken from a thousand-year slumber. His head pounded like some heavy stamping machine and each heartbeat seemed to bang against his temples like an iron rod.\n\nAs for recent memory, he had none. This is what frightened him the most as he gathered himself and rose to his feet. With no recollection of past to help him piece together his present, he looked around the prison-like room as if he was some wayward visitor newly-borne into an alien world that could bear no sympathy for the lost.\n\nHe began walking towards the half-open door and looking down, now realized that he was without shoes. His red shirt was ripped and soiled and his jeans were worn through.\n\nTurning sideways and contorting his body, he slipped through the small opening and stepped out into a dark and ugly hallway that seemed to stretch onward forever on either side of him. He was now racking his mind for any clue as to what reality he was now a part of.\n\nIn the distance, down the shadowed corridor to his left, he thought he could hear the crying of some abandoned child who was lost and searching...just as he was.\n\nHe made his way down the hallway and walked for what seemed like time eternal. Each footstep echoed and rang out and was lost in the murky blackness as birds and mice spied him and took flight away from him - startled by his arrival.\n\nFinally, he came to a dead end and found himself facing an impenetrable cement wall. He reached out his hand and touched the smooth, cold barrier. His head fell as he leaned against the wall and let out an exasperated and half-silent cry - never to be heard or registered among the world that was now a labyrinth to him.\n\nSuddenly, behind him, he heard a shuffle of what sounded like hurried footsteps. He could not tell if they were coming toward him or leading away.\n\nHe blurted out a desperate hello but heard nothing in return except his own echo. He pleaded in the darkness for help but it was too late. Whatever it was had now left - perhaps returning to some home inside the very walls that imprisoned him.\n\nNow gently sobbing, he put his back against the wall and slunk down until he sat on the moist brick floor. It would be night soon. He had spent all day trying to find his way out. His hunger was now slowly overpowering his fear. He was sure that he could not make it another night. As his tears dried, he softly fell asleep.\n\nIn his final dream, he walked with his mother and father along the coastline as they clasped on to his hands. He could feel the grit of the sand between his toes as the waves crashed softly ashore. He heard his mother whisper to him in a hushed tone. He could not hear what she had said but rather felt it. The setting sun gave the last of its energy before dipping below the horizon.\n\nIn that deep and dark and strange passageway within which he was trapped, the child's cry rang out again but met no ear." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A high schooler is capable of easily summoning demons, but often uses them in petty ways, tonight you've been summoned to help with his history homework." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I rise from the circle of symbols, sulfur billowing along my arms. I'm in a child's room. He stands before me with the ancient book in one hand and blood dripping from the other.\n\nGood. Children are the easiest to sway.\n\nWith the power of all the demon legions and the hatred of hell, I speak with the voices of all the languages.\n\n\"I am the Lord of Flies, ruler of demons and fire, Beelzebub,\" My low voice shakes everything in the city for miles around as I levitate into the air, \"Who are you wh-\"\n\n\"Yeah, I get it, 'Lord of Flies, king of hell and shit,' I've heard it enough.\"\n\nThe smell of sulfur lessens as the smoke dissipates, and I lower back to the ground.\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"Can you just help me with my homework already? The others didn't do shit.\"\n\n\"The others?\"\n\nThe kid picks up an already bloody towel and wraps it around his hand, and sits on the bed occupying a corner of the room.\n\n\"Well, yeah, you weren't my first choice. I'm not dumb enough to just summon Beelzebub for some shitty math, but all of you're asshole employees couldn't figure it out. So my hand was.. forced.\"\n\n\"Math homework? Are you kidding me?\" I lash out and stomp through the chair next to his desk, completely disintegrating it.\n\n\"Dude, calm down or I'll send you back. Just help me figure out how to do this derivative.\"\n\n\"Derivatives? Oh come on, those are easy.\" I sit down next to him on the bed, visibly putting stress on the springs and legs. \"You just take away the little number up top and multiply, or something.\"\n\n\"Nah, we gotta do the long way.\"\n\n\"Are you fucking me? That's dumb, here let me see.\" I reach out for the paper, which he hands readily.\n\nI stare at the paper for a long time. It's covered in math work, scratches, doodles, and demonic symbols.\n\n\"How many of us did you summon?\"\n\n\"Hmm.\" he ponders for a second. \"You should be the fifteenth. Or sixteenth, does the two headed demon count as one or two?\"\n\n\"He's one.\"\n\n\"Okay only fifteen.\"\n\n\"Dude.\"\n\n\"Yo, this is hard. I tried everything. And, all the assholes before couldn't figure it out. Pythius keep just giving me riddles. Astaroth wouldn't stop saying I already knew the answer. And, I made the mistake of thinking Leviathan could fit in here.\" He points to the other side of the room, where a large hole exposes the room to the outside. \"So, you gotta do this.\n\n\"Alright.\" I look at the paper again and do what I remember of calculus. I don't get one of the choices. Okay. I'll just do the easy way and see what the answer is, then work backwards. I still don't get one of the answers. I find my mistake. I try again. It's wrong.\n\nI look up at him. He's staring at me with such intensity, I recoil a bit.\n\n\"You get it?\"\n\n\"Well...\"\n\n\"You got to be kidding me. Fuck this, I'm summoning Lucifer.\" He places his hand on my forehead, \"Amen.\"\n\nAnd, I'm gone.\n\nEdit: I totally skipped the history part and just caught on. I think demons doing math is funny... I'm sorry..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: The villain held your power ring in their hand, “With this out of the way your powers shall no longer work, relent.” You look at them and began chuckling before breaking out into maniacal laughter, “that doesn’t give me power, it gives me empathy dipshit.”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I resent who I was. Selfish. Arrogant. Narcissistic. I used my powers and talents to benefit no one, other than myself. Then one day I met a traveling wizard. He looked into my eyes and saw deeper into my heart of hearts than I had ever cared enough to ponder.\n\nHe said, \"I see what you are. A creature of immense potential. But I can tell that you feel empty. Most things you do are easy for you, and yet you are hollow. What if I could offer you something that would change that?\"\n\nI was intrigued. I doubted that he really knew me as well as he pretended, but he had gotten the void I felt in my chest right. \"And just what would you give me that would unlock what you believe I lack?\n\nHe continued, \"I craft magical items. They unlock powers for some, confer beneficial changes on others.\" He reached into one of his pockets, and pulled out a ring of silver set with a large jade stone. \"Put this on, and entire worlds will be opened before you, worlds you have never felt or seen so far in your existence.\"\n\nI was a little intoxicated, so I was not as conscious of the potential dangers as I might usually be. I didn't believe a traveling wizard would give me anything terribly powerful or impactful. I reached my hand forward, and he placed the ring on my palm. I put it on the ring finger on my left hand. I felt a strange sensation, hard to put into words.\n\nI saw a light in the wizard's eyes. \"I think you and the ring will get along well. I wish you all the best, traveler.\" with that he walked on, and I never saw him again.\n\nI could remove the ring if I wanted, it wasn't one of those cursed magical items. I noticed a distinct difference between how I felt with it on and with it off, though I could not put my finger on just how it changed me. I felt good wearing it. Maybe it was a trinket that made you slightly happier? Not groundbreaking, but maybe he thought I was sad. I walked back into town, and felt an urge to give the beggars money. I'd never done that before. After I had given them coins, I felt something bloom inside my chest. It felt good, right. I had made someone else's day better, and the void inside me felt a little bit less complete. I stayed in an inn that night, then moved onto the road again. I was not sure where to go, just intent on seeing the world.\n\nI met a caravan of traders, moving slowly towards Lerwick, the biggest city for hundreds of miles. I decided I would stay with them for a time, sharing stories and jokes over a campfire. I had been traveling with them for three days when something attacked the caravan in the dark of night. I woke up to the sound of a man screaming. I had a sword with me at all times, and I rose from my resting place to join the fray. A pack of three beasts, ravenners. They usually eat carrion or small animals, but they must be desperately hungry to attack a caravan. I charged them from the side, surprising them. I plunge my sword into one, and it makes high pitched clicks indicating pain. The caravan rallies, and we drive them off with fire. They had hurt the man responsible for that shift of night watch, but he will most likely recover.\n\nI stay with the caravan, though there are no further incidents with monsters. We reach Lerwick, and part warmly. I am confused as to what I am becoming. The person I was before would never have risked himself to help other he barely knew. What magic had that wizard wrought upon me? I did not dislike the change, but my identity and personality were in upheaval. I had quite a bit of money with me still. I had myself tested for magical abilities, and began to pay and instructor to improve my swordsmanship. I was found to have a moderate capacity for the magical arts, and a talent blade. I trained, with the intent of following this new path before me. The path of a hero and adventurer.\n\nI grew in skill and renown. An arcane blade master, hunting monsters, making the night safe. I made friends, fought with them, and mourned those that fell. I knew what the ring was doing, but felt no need to stop it. I liked what I was becoming.\n\nThen one day, on one of my more risky ventures, I was captured by Mharar, a necromancer with aspirations of lichdom. He used his magic to paralyze me. As I lay on the ground motionless, he took the jade ring from my finger. \"You magic ring. My spies tell me this is where you say your power comes from. With this out of the way, you will have no hope of stopping me!\"\n\nI begin to laugh. \"You think that's where my power comes from? It doesn't give me power, it gives me empathy, dipshit!\"\n\nAs I say this, one of my fellow adventurers, hiding in the shadows, hits him with an arrow. The pain breaks his concentration, allowing me to move. In a fluid motion, I drive my sword into his chest. I take my ring from his cold hands and put it back on. I don't feel all that different without it, the changes it has wrought upon me seem to be permanent. My party and I return to the city, collect accolades and bounties for dealing with the necromancer.\n\nI decide I will rest for a time. I go from inn to inn in the city, until I see someone who reminds me of who I once was. I approach them, then say, \"I see what you are. A creature of immense potential. But I can tell that you feel empty. Most things you do are easy for you, and yet you are hollow. What if I could offer you something that would change that?\"\n\nThey look at me, tilting their head, \"And just what would you give me that would unlock what you believe I lack?\"\n\n\"I have a magical item. It confers beneficial changes on the wielder.\" I reach into my pocket and pull out the ring of silver with the jade stone. \"Put this on, and entire worlds will be opened before you, worlds you have never felt or seen so far in your existence.\"\n\nThey take it from me and put it on. I feel a glow in my heart of hearts. I say, \"I think you and the ring will get along well. I wish you all the best, traveler,\" and with that, I walk away." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: In a world where kisses actually heal wounds, tell a gritty tale of survival" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What had started off as a shitty day was rapidly turning into a highly shitty day, a real fuckin' ridiculous fiesta of human fecal matter in all of its glory and dysfunction, after Doug had gotten blasted in the chest with shrapnel after an RPG round had taken out half of\n\nDirty Sanchez's humvee during a firefight that the fucking insurgents had intiated at four in the fucking morning.\n\n\"Just kiss it already,\" Doug gritted out, blood spraying out of his mouth and dyeing his teeth red.\n\nMark prayed, with all of what had previously been his very staunchy atheist heart, that the corpsman would hurry the fuck up and get over here quickly to kiss it better like he was fucking supposed to, but he could hear Barzman yelling for the corpsman already and there sure was a lot of screaming and radio chatter going on already, so it looked like Marc was going to have to tongue Doug's rapidly faltering aorta before he fucking died.\n\n\"Bro,\" he said helpless, kneeling beside his dying comrade. There was so much blood that he couldn't even see the wound. \"I don't...\"\n\nDoug's eyes slid to the side and his hands went limp in the sand.\n\n\"Fuck,\" Marc said, and leaned in and puckered up. He paused right before he made contact and looked up at Doug's still face. \"No homo.\"\n\n.\n\nMark was sitting outside the tent, idly trying to clean some of the sand out of his Minimi, when Doug came blinking into the sun. He was still moving gingerly, but his near-death experience had only left him with a series of jagged scars crossing his torso, which Mark saw for a second before he dropped his shirt back over his head.\n\nMark hopped to his feet. \"You getting cas-evaced?\"\n\n\"Nah, brah,\" Doug said easily, squinting at Marc for a second. \"Not that lucky. Said it healed up too good. You got a minute?\"\n\n\"Sure,\" Mark said, falling into stride with him.\n\nDoug stopped when they were at the humvee; Jefferies was snoring in the shade, but there wasn't anyone else around. \"That was a sucking chest wound I had, brah,\" he said, flat-out. \"Doc Riggs said I shouldn't've made it.\"\n\nMarc shrugged, not sure what to do with his hands, piece hanging awkwardly from his suddenly cold fingers. \"Dunno, man. Glad you didn't fuckin' die, I guess.\"\n\n\"Doc said a kiss only makes it better if you really mean it,\" Doug said quietly.\n\nDoc was a fuckin' rat, and Marc was going to tell him so, maybe before he shot himself in the head to escape this conversation. He was a hardened fucking warrior and should not have to talk about his fucking feelings. \"It doesn't mean anything,\" he said staring out at the sand dunes. \"I didn't want to fuckin' make your girl a war widow or whatever.\"\n\n\"Don't have a girl back home,\" Doug said simply.\n\nWhen Marc looked back at him Doug was smiling, just a little bit.\n\nMarc sighed loudly and scuffed the ground with his boots, but he couldn't help the fact he was smiling back, just a little bit too. \"Fuck, fine, I guess there was some homo, or whatever.\"\n\nThey stood there, smiling at each other like fucking idiots, until Mark felt compelled to say, \"I'm glad I kissed it better.\"\n\nDoug reached out, grabbed his hand, and tangled their fingers together. When he grinned there was no blood on his teeth. \"Me too.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: After dozens of failed alien invasions, humanity has mastered planetary defence and turned Earth into an inpenetrable fortress." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "26th of September, 4 pm, another monday.\n\nSirens scream at the top of their mechanical lungs. Civilians in the streets scramble to get to the underground bunkers. An announce now comes through on the speakers, installed on every street corner. \"Dear citizens, alien vessels have been discovered on an collision course with earth. Please remain calm, the bet offices in the shelters will remain open. The current jackpot for the \"Survival Time Lottery\" is at an record high of 30 million dollars, so place your bet on how long today's invasion will last and have a chance to crack the jackpot. Good luck to everyone.\"\n\nThe doors of the command centre shift open, as an short, chubby guy in an fancy looking military uniform enters the room. He shuffles towards an heavy chair placed in the middle of the room. After he settled down and took a sip of his coffee, the chair gets turned around. It unveils an whole crew of people tipping in commands on their computers. \"Who is it today?\" asks the chubby guy. A woman stands up salutes and exclaims, \"It's the Morguel Swarm today, sir. But the interplanetary super cannons already thinned their lines and have killed the bigger ships of their fleet, sir.\" The commander smiles happily and takes another sip from his coffee. \"Alright, ladies and gentlemen. 4 months ago, when the Swarm attacked the last time they just bounced of the planetary shield. So we could get this wrapped up in about an hour.\" General cheering follows. \"But, just in case, equip the hyper flamethrowers to the planetary fortresses and load high explosive rounds into the automatic AA-defense turrets.\"\n\nMinutes later hundreds of red points show up on the scanners. A lowly cadet shouts out loudly, \"Enemy will hit our shields in 45 seconds.\" The commander mumbles to himself, \"Let's see what they got this time.\" He has fought multiple battles against them and is a survivor of the early days, in which invasion forces of the xeno threats actually made it to earths surface. He swore to himself to never again let them hurt anyone else. And continued the fight, as more and more xeno races joined the regular invasions of humanity's home.\n\nHis thoughts of vengeance get interrupted by the same cadet from early shouting, \"5,4,3,2...\" Quickly the commander looks up and enjoys the view out the front window. He sees a greenish form closing in on the shield, that blankets the sky. It just hits the shild and shatters on impact. A chuckle went through the commander. \"Idiot.\" he thought. But seconds after a green fizzle went through the part of the blue blanket, that's the planetary shield. Seconds after a hole opens up and green, organic ships storm through.\n\n\"Roast them!\" the commander screamed. Shortly after thick beams of flaming red and orange colour extend out from metallic fortresses all over the landscape, scared with impact craters towards the cloud of alien vessels. Even the command centre itself turned to face the enemy and join in with four flaming beams.\n\nThe sky gets lit up with fire. Fireballs, that had been Swarm ships moments ago, plunge down towards the earth. Any vessels that have not been turned into burning wrecks get torn to shreds by million little bullets from the AA-defense. The slaughter last long as more and more landing pots make their way through the hole.\n\nAs the last fireball hits the earth, personal jump up and hug eachother. The commander still doesn't understand why, this madness happens like every second week. But he doesn't have to understand their happiness, he's just glad that earth is safe again. He calmly takes another sip from his coffee.\n\n(I really enjoyed this one. Thank you for the good idea. An really unique outlook on our future.)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You wake up in a busy office building. You see a help desk and walk over to it. Turns out you're in Hell." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The irritating sound of a printer in the distance startled me awake.\n\nWhere am I? What the hell? I was somehow passed out in a chair in what seems to be a waiting area in an office building.\n\nWalking over to the help desk, I ask, \"Excuse me, what is this place and why did I wake up here?\"\n\nThe man sitting behind the desk looks up from his computer, and I notice little horns sprouting from his temples. He also had a name tag reading \"Abraxeus.\" I haven't heard that name before.\n\n\"Sir, you're in Hell, please wait a few more minutes for us to get everything in order, your eternal torture will soon commence.\" His deep, scruffy voice sounded exactly like the monsters I've seen in the movies.\n\n\"So I am dead, and I've been sent here? I thought I was an outstanding citizen? Why must I be eternally tortured?\" I ask.\n\n\"You've got it all wrong sir, there is no heaven. Everyone is dropped off here after they pass. The owner of this place has a philosophy that people will only enjoy life to the fullest if they suffer eternally after.\" He states.\n\n\"But how are we to know to enjoy life if we don't even know what is to come after? How does that make any sense?\"\n\n\"You'll understand soon enough, now please sit and wait for your turn.\" He dismisses me without another word.\n\nI take my seat again and wonder what my method of torture will be. In life I used to work at my local department for motor vehicles helping people with their licensing and whatnot. I made enough to live on my own and sullenly did anything against the law, and certainly not to hurt other people.\n\nAn hour or so passed by, I couldn't tell; there was no clock anywhere I could see, and I didn't have a watch. Does time even pass for the dead here anyway?\n\n\"Abraxeus, if I may call you that, how long do you think it'll be before everything is in order for my torture?\" I ask nervously. Not knowing what kind of torture that would be brought upon me was almost torture in and of itself.\n\nHe ignores my question, intently staring at the screen. I guess I'll just try and wait it out.\n\nThere was a single magazine on a little corner table reading \"Demon's health\"\n\nUnderneath the title, \"How to survive your eternal journey through the infinite stages of Hell,\" and \"See these 7 steps to maintaining your HOT new physical form!\" I set the magazine aside, I never liked these types of magazines anyway.\n\nMinutes turned to hours, hours to days, days to weeks, weeks to months, or at least so it seemed. I couldn't take the waiting anymore, I was going to go crazy with nothing to do. I've already counted the number of stitches in the carpeting of the floor, and the small dots on the mostly white tiled ceiling. 7,392,453, and 3,288,829 respectively. How could this demon stare at his computer for so long without a word? What even killed me anyway? I had so many questions I wanted to be answered, and not a soul to talk to. Then it dawned on me, maybe this was my torture." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: There's a machine that one can only use once that perfectly predicts how much time one has left to live. Due to an error, it only gives you the number 50." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The numbers came out on thermal paper, with the razor cutter slicing the strip with precision. The machine had been both insanely popular and insanely controversial since its creation. How does an inanimate object measure the time a person has left on earth? And only with a drop of blood?\n\nThe first of man to test the machine was a 23 year old man named Scott. He volunteered, knowing that at worst, he’d get a false reading. At best, he’d be better able to plan his life. 59 years. A good, long life. Scott was pleased.\n\nOf course, the religions of the world were distraught. The machine was an affront to God, or several of them, depending on the belief. How can a box of circuits, gears and shafts know God’s plan? They demanded their followers ignore the machine, just as a new religion, worshipping the machine started to take shape.\n\nThe second of man was a 43 year old woman. A secondary school teacher from a random European country, named Claire. Her result was less pleasing. 10 years, 5 weeks. The machine’s precision went up with shorter answers. While less than happy, Claire accepted the result with grace, knowing that she’d have time to plan her fairly short life.\n\nNobody was required to be tested, of course. The lawmakers immediately enacted protections to ensure that nobody was tested against their will. Many were rightfully terrified of a future where only the long lived received jobs, loans or government positions. Some countries went so far as to make the results of the test private, with heavy fines following any discussion of your result. Others took a more lax approach, allowing disclosure, but no entity could punish, based only on the results.\n\nThe third of man was Dane. A 73 year old fisherman from the Pacific Northwest. Many were expecting a short result, and many were correct. 17 minutes, 32.450 seconds. Dane was shocked, but accepted his fate with dignity. He’d lived a hard, but fulfilling life. He hugged his family, who’d gathered to watch, and walked out of the facility. He’d just started pondering how it would end, when the drunk driver ran him down, permanently killing him, while leaving a temporary stain on the sidewalk.\n\nWhile only a few had taken the test, its accuracy was unchallenged. Its workings were a mystery, known only to the machine’s equally mysterious creators. They hadn’t advertised the machine, much. Only a few scientific papers, published in a few scientific journals. As word spread, though, more wanted to know how. The algorithms and formulae in the paper made little sense, yet somehow added up to a complete theorem. The creators had refused to speak to the press. Conspiracy theorists abounded, thinking the creators were aliens, angels, or strangely, a little of both.\n\nFinally, there was Frank. A completely average 40 year old man, from a completely average city in a completely average country. Most were expecting an average result. Most were wrong. 50. Nothing more. The machine sat, with a low hum, awaiting its next sample.\n\nThe press leapt upon the result. Surely, the machine was fallible. 50 doesn’t make any sense! 50 what? Seconds, surely not, Frank was still alive a minute later. 50 minutes? Hours? Millennia?\n\nThe question turned the world on its ear. Frank was suddenly the most popular person in the world, if only so people could speculate on his death. Gambling houses the world over started taking bets on the meaning. 3:2 odds on years, 10:1 on weeks, etc. With money placed on his demise, Frank was forced out of his average life, and into protection. Every increment of time caused a frenzy, with websites dedicated to Frank crashing, and news coverage near constant outside of Frank’s average house.\n\nThe world held its breath, awaiting Frank’s last." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Ever since you were a kid, you'd always check yourself in the mirror in the morning. Today you do the same, only to notice that your reflection lagged for a few miliseconds." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I woke up one morning and things were quiet. It was odd since it is never quiet in my apartment. There was always something on like a fan or radio. I shrugged it off and continued with my morning.\n\nI got up and turned on some music and got in the shower. After that I looked in the mirror, it was all fogged up. So, I got dressed and went to the kitchen to make some coffee. I went on my phone for a little while as I drank my coffee.\n\nI looked at the clock on my phone and noticed the time. I had a few minutes before I had to leave for work. I got up and walked to the bathroom to check myself out in the mirror, as usual. I straighted my tie and saw my reflection was off. I blinked but kept going without giving it a thought.\n\nLater that night I was on Skype with one of my friends from highschool. In the middle of our conversation, I looked at my box in the corner of the screen. I shivered and stopped talking.\n\n\"What's wrong?\" My friend asked. I shook my head. \"Dude, Is your internet alright? You're lagging\" he stated. My eyes widened and I studied my webcam. \"Hey, I have to use the restroom, I'll be right back.\" I said. He nodded and I stood up from my desk. I took a deep breath and walked to the bathroom and gazed into the mirror.\n\nI ran my fingers through my hair and saw the lag. This time, I gasped but my reflection didn't. My eyes widened as I watched it move on it's own. An eery smile formed on it's face as it moved toward me.\n\nWithout hesitation I ran out of the bathroom, grabbed my phone, and ran out of my apartment.\n\nI was walking down the street aimlessly, my heart still racing. I took a deep breath and realized, I needed a place to stay. I texted my friend, who I was in the call with, and asked to spend the night.\n\nIt took a few minutes before I got a reply and it said, \"How did you do that?\"\n\n\"Do what?\" Texted back. It was at least 5 minutes without an answer. I decided I would call him.\n\nHe answered the phone, breathing heavily. \"Dude, what the hell?\" He asked. \"What? Dude, can I stay for the night?\" I asked. He took a deep breath and said yes. The line went silent so I said I'd be there in a few minutes and hung up. I went to his place and when I walked in, he hugged me.\n\nI looked at him in confusion as tears formed in his eyes. \"Are you alright, man?\" I asked him. We sat down on the couch. \"What happened?\" I asked.\n\n\"Dude it was crazy. You came back from the bathroom and sat back down on the desk. We continued our conversation and that's when you texted me. It was weird cuz you in the call never picked up your phone. When I looked back up, you smiled creepily and proceeded to take a knife and.....\" He took a deep breath. \"I watched you kill yourself. Then the call ended.\" He said.\n\nI looked at him in shock. \"That wasn't me.\" I took a deep breath. \"When I went to the bathroom, my reflection was being weird so I left my apartment because it freaked me out.\"\n\nWe continued to talk for a few minutes when I realized I really had to go to the bathroom. I took a deep breath and excused myself from the conversation and walked into the bathroom. I avoided my reflection as much as I could, used the toilet, and washed my hands. Then I glanced up at the mirror. Nothing happened.\n\nI stood up straight and looked into the mirror. It was reflecting the bathroom, just not me. Then a hand, covered in blood, reached up on the other side of the mirror. I screamed and broke the glass.\n\nI don't care what anyone says. I'm never looking in a mirror again." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: You wouldn't exactly call it a superpower, but you are a unique individual. You can see \"links\" between people and read what they are. Those two are secretly dating. Those two have been married for 27 years. Those two hate each other." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“I wonder if we’re getting another bad batch today.”\n\nI turn to see my boss, Dr. Gonzalez, thinking out loud to herself as she paces her office reviewing the notes of previous sessions for today's clients.\n\n“I’m sure things will be smoother this week.” I say trying to reassure her. “Say boss, about my temporary position here you said we would discuss having me on full-time.”\n\n“Don’t worry Edward, you are a valuable asset here. We’ll discuss details soon.” She gives me a polite smile and waves me off to continue her prep for today. Once again, she puts me off for the fourth week in a row.\n\nI walk back to my desk and sift through her client files. I look at the pictures of the group therapy clients for tomorrow. That familiar feeling comes to me, like muscle memory, and the strands start to appear. The connections between people that and intricate web or intersecting branches: Cheating couples, Strained family relations, or new lovers. I see it all. Before I can get lost in the moment, I feel a familiar presence creep up on m.\n\n“The Boss pass you off again?”\n\nI turn and see Helga’s warm smile directed at me. Crows feet perching at the edge of her eyes. Turning 60 in a couple of days and doesn’t look a day over 50.\n\n“You know how Dr. Gonzalez gets when she has a full day. Besides I think today might be it.” I reply.\n\n“That bitch knows how hard you work. She just doesn’t want to admit it.”\n\n“Helga she’s the most sought-after therapist in the entire Country. You know how lucky I am just working here.”\n\n“Eddie,” Helga places her two wrinkly hands on my shoulder, “you are the best at what you do. You helped me reconnect with my son, something Dr. Gonzalez could never do.”\n\n“Thanks Helga,” I give her a soft smile and the strands connecting me and her flash. So much trust and faith in young man like myself unsettles me at times.\n\nSoon the main door opens and I see three men in grey suits enter and survey the room. One is shorter than the other two, and is bald with a faded scar on the left side of his face.\n\n“Is Doctor Gonzalez seeing anyone?” The bald one asks with a stern look.\n\n“She’s no in yet.” I lie, “Anything I can help with?”\n\nThe bald man pauses and looks me up and down, assessing me like one who shops for a new tool, or looking for a cut of meat.\n\n“Just give this to Dr. Gonzalez when she’s in. We’ll wait in the lobby.” The man then hands me a worn red envelope. I bid him good day and go back to by cubicle as quickly as possible.\n\nI soon open the envelope out of curiosity and find various photos of young children. Suddenly it feels like my head is about to crack open. Various strands pop out at me connecting the children in the pictures with images of people from my recent memories. This new sensation frightens me as I feel something wet run down my nose. I comb through the mess of webs until a clear pattern forms in my head. I rush back to the bald man.\n\n“These children, what happened to them!” I demand. The bald one frowns at me while the other two men in suits stand uncomfortably close to me. I recognized one of the kids from a news reel last week. His line connected to a solider who died in Quebec.\n\n“That’s classified information.” The man on my left says flatly.\n\n“Why do you want to know about a mangled dead guy and his sister?” I ask.\n\nThe bald man shoots up from his chair. “His sister?” He gives me a curious stare. Then he waves his men away and slowly approaches me. My pulse quickens\n\n“Y-yeah his sister in the other photo. Are they your kids?” I ask\n\n“No.” He pauses then continues. “However, it is important that I find this girl immediately. What’s your name?\"\n\n“Edward Lysander.” I respond.\n\n“Come with me Edward if you want to know about the boy.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You are walking in a crowded downtown plaza when a Facebook notification goes off on your phone: \"Are you OK? It looks like you're in the area affected by EMERGENCY PROTOCOL 1016B. Let friends know if you're safe.\" Confused, you look around to discover you're alone." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The crowd disappeared almost as fast as anxiety took over my mind. I leaned against the side of a damp building to gain my balance. It was just a notification, I told myself. It didn't mean anything.\n\nI closed my eyes, trying to remember the damn safe place my therapist kept telling me to imagine. The crackling of a fireplace. The smell of caramel on vanilla ice cream. The warmth and softness of being wrapped in a blanket.\n\nBlack fog covered me as I mustered the courage to face the world.\n\nI fidgeted for my phone and called Sarah. She answered after three rings.\n\n\"David, where are you?\" she asked, her voice gentle.\n\n\"I thought I was heading downtown, but I can't tell anymore,\" I managed to say. I didn't why I was whispering. \"You have to help me, I can't see anything but black fog here.\"\n\nThere was a giant crash in the distance, with a cloud of smoke and dust rising above the thick fog.\n\n\"What was that?\" panic slowly seeping into her voice.\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"I just checked... no one knows what's happening. Facebook only says to evacuate the area immediately. I am calling 911. David, stay where you are.\"\n\n\"I can't...\"\n\nI heard the faint screeching of sirens as I decided to run. It only took 5 strides for me to run face-first into a metal pole.\n\n\"David, the police aren't picking up!\" I heard her say over the ringing in my head.\n\nI look around for my phone, blood dripping from my forehead. I pinpoint its location by following the sound of Sarah's static-infused voice. How did the phone get so far?\n\nI crawled to it, as the fog wasn't as thick this close to the ground. Three distinct booms sounded near me. I covered my head and screamed, thinking they were gunshots.\n\nCovering my mouth, I lunged at the phone.\n\n\"Sarah!\" I said as loudly as I dared.\n\nTik-tik-tik-tik.\n\n\"Sarah, I need you!\"\n\nTik-tik-tik-tik.\n\nThat was the only sound that came from the phone.\n\nDull thuds approached me. I stood up, running in the other direction.\n\nCold hands grabbed me the shoulders. I screeched and kicked and punched but the hands overpowered me.\n\n\"Sir! We are here to help!\" shouted a man, letting me down on my feet.\n\n\"Thank you,\" I said, calming down. I took the moment to gather my breath, still feeling the cold from where the man had gripped me.\n\n\"What's the military doing here?\" I asked, after taking a closer look at his uniform.\n\nThe man sighed, even though his stony eyes betrayed no emotion.\n\n\"I'm going to break protocol and tell you the truth,\" he said.\n\nI nodded, after a pause.\n\n\"This world is coming to an end.\"\n\nHis eyes glowed a dark green, and a rumbling erupted from his chest. The man's flesh melted to reveal greasy, black scales underneath, and green liquid leaked from his mouth. Dark tendrils wrapped around me, lifting me up.\n\n\"And we will bring that end in a torrent of fire and fog!\"\n\nThe creature's voice was as rough as rubbing stone against stone. It threw me up into the air, and opened its giant maw, ready to swallow me whole." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: In the year 2176, knowledge of cooking has deteriorated in the age of replicators and technological convenience. You're helping to clean out your great grandparent's old bungaloo for an estate sale and come across an old, paper book simply titled \"The Joy of Cooking\" by Julia Child." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Xenia took in the sight of the room around her and let out a low whistle. “I tell you what, they don’t make houses like these anymore.”\n\nEdie poke her head through the archway to see what her cousin was talking about. Great Grandma Margot was obsessed with the French farmhouse design aesthetic and it showed. Dominating the kitchen was a wide island painted robin’s egg blue to match the cabinets and topped with a battered wooden board that proudly bore its dents and knife marks like battle scars. Early morning sunlight streamed from gauzy daisy yellow curtains, casting a rosy hue on the copper pots and pans suspended from the ceiling and the brass fixtures of the cabinets, which glinted like gold. The antique four-range gas stove and the refrigerator were just as pristine now as they were when Margot moved into the bungalow as a blushing new bride over eighty years ago. The farmhouse sink was bare, the wooden countertops laden with the markings of a woman who made this room the heart of her home. There were ceramic rooster statues, containers marked “Sugar”, “Flour” and “Coffee” in flowing blue script, a little yellow kettle with daisies painted on the side, a hand painted spice rack that her beloved husband had made for her so many years ago. And of course, dominating two shelves off to the side of the stove were laden with Great-Grandma’s prized egg cup collection.\n\nXenia reached out and brushed her fingers against the ceramic rooster statue on one of the counters. “It’s a shame we can’t keep all of this,” she lamented, “I know I can’t. I don’t have any room in my apartment.”\n\n“I know, right,” Edie walked up to Xenia’s side and picked up one of the egg cups, a little bunny fashioned out of bottle green glass. It was surprisingly heavy in her fingers. As she closed her eyes, Edie could see a scene from her past play out in front of her like a movie. She was five years old again, seated at the island with her legs dangling a foot above the tiled floor. Grandma Margot was at the stove, taking the freshly boiled eggs out of the pot and setting each one in two of her cups. Smiling, Margot then took one of the egg cups, the bunny, her favorite and a little spoon and set it down in front of her. Edie opened her eyes and stroked the etched fur pattern of the egg cup before pocketing it.\n\n“You know, whoever buys this place better keep it the way it is,” Xenia remarked. “I’d hate to see the new owners gut the place and replace these appliances with a new replicator or a smart counter.”\n\nBy now, Edie and Xenia’s other relatives had gathered by the partition separating the kitchen from the living room.\n\n“Even when she had half a mind, at least Grandma Margot could still keep h-ow!” Cousin Danny nursed a now-aching spot on his ribs after Edie rammed her elbow into it. “What was that for?”\n\n“Don’t you talk about her like that,” Edie hissed. \"It's rude.\"\n\n“What’s rude about it? It’s not like she cares. She’s dead,” Danny pointed out. “Besides, did you even check out the rest of the house? It’s like a hoarder’s haven.”\n\nJeremy, who worked for a crime scene clean up crew and had seen some truly awful things in his time, shook his head. Gesturing to the boxes upon boxes of Grandma Margot's possessions stacked up in the living room, almost obscuring the ancient furniture, he piped, “This ain’t nothing. You want to see a hoarders haven, you should have been there when we had to take care of this place on Branchland Court. Now THAT was a hoarders haven.\n\n“Well, we can’t keep on reminiscing,” Xenia sighed, pulling her hand away from the rooster statue. She reached into the pocket of her jumpsuit, pulled out a pair of rubber gloves, and put it on. “We have to get this place ready for the estate sale. Jeremy…”\n\nJeremey, who was staring out into the kitchen with a dreamy look on his face, instantly snapped back to reality. “Yeah?”\n\n“You have experience with these kinds of things, what should we do first?”\n\n“Right,” Jeremy rubbed his nose, something he did when he was deep in thought. “Uh… first thing would be to clean out all this stuff. Get rid of the trash, of course. We can move boxes and stuff out of the way and clean the place up. I brought the van over so we can use the supplies from there.”\n\n“Why don’t we just use the vaccu bots?” Danny suggested.\n\nJeremy let out a disgusted snort. “Those things don’t do jackshit, at least in my professional opinion. Besides…” he tapped his fist on the whitewashed wall. “This house is over two hundred years old. It deserves some respect, and yes that means cleaning it the old fashioned way.”\n\nJust as everyone was about to leave the kitchen, Jeremy stopped. “It might be better if we split up and take a room. That way we aren’t stepping over each other,” he recommended. “This ain’t a big house, you know.” He looked to his relatives. “I suggest Danny and I do the living room. Once Dad and Uncle Tucker get here, it will be easier to move the heavier pieces of furniture. Mom, Aunt Celine, and Aunt Rosa can take care of the upstairs bathroom and bedroom and you two…” He looked to Xenia and Edie, “you guys can do the kitchen.”\n\n“Really, you’re putting the two girls here on kitchen detail,” Edie said. “You realize we’re living in the 22nd century, not the 12th century, right?”\n\n“Look, I’m just coming up with a plan to make this easier for everyone,” Jeremy defended. “If you want to help me and Danny move the couch, feel free to join us.”\n\nTen minutes later, armed with brooms, mops, and a bucket laden with cleaning products, Xenia and Edie came back to the kitchen.\n\n“Alright,” Xenia began, “Let’s… hey, don’t pout.”\n\nShe nudged Edie on the shoulder. “I know Danny can be an ass, but think of it this way, there’s going to be loads of cool stuff Grandma Margot’s got here. Maybe we can keep some 21st century cooking stuff.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: God creating the first human." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Michael, Michael, come quick!” came God’s voice in his mind.\n\nMichael sighed around the dog-end of a cigarette and rubbed his unshaven face with his hands. Couldn’t He just call it a day? But no, He had to make more of those bloody animals, just all over the place, bugs and birds and that platypus thing. He sighed again, fixed a smile on his face and hoped it didn’t look like a grimace.\n\nJust a few more hours and then we get to bloody rest, he reminded himself as he took himself to God’s side. He saluted and stood at attention, then sighed as God didn’t even look up from where the creature He was working on, right here in the middle of the Garden. Couldn’t He just stick to His workshop?\n\n“You wanted me, sir?”\n\nGod had His hands inside the torso of the thing, and He nodded His head in the direction of His toolbox. “Could you grab me a length of colon?”\n\nMichael grimaced and removed the floppy pink thing and handed it to Him. “Is that all, sir?”\n\nGod tied off something and closed it all up. “No, I wanted your opinion. Well, what do you think? Isn’t it cute?”\n\nMichael cast an eye over the creature and rolled his dog-end to the other side of his mouth. “Umm. It’s very nice… A primate, is it? It’s a lot less hairy than the others though.”\n\nGod shook His head. “No, I call it a human!”\n\nMichael sniffed. “Mmhmm. It’s er, very nice.”\n\nGod laughed. “Don’t you see? I made him in my image!”\n\nMichael blinked. “But sir, you’re, you know, infinite.” He pointed at the creature. “This thing is kind of…not.”\n\nGod had an excited smile. “No, I’m gong to make him with free will!”\n\nMichael felt his mouth drop open. “This thing?” he looked at the unassuming features of it. “Really?”\n\nGod nodded excitedly. “Just think, someone else with free will to talk with! No offense but you angels can get a little dry, not to mention the other two.”\n\nMichael wrinkled his brow. “But he won’t know much, will he?”\n\nGod blinked at him. “Of course he will, he’s in my image after all. I’ll give him everything he needs to know.”\n\n“But, that’s not free will. He’s gotta figure things out on his own, right, or else he’ll just be you.”\n\nGod pondered this, His hand pressed to His temple. “Hmm, a blank template. Interesting. But he might not turn out right.”\n\nMichael sat and sucked on his dog-end. “Well, yeah. That’s all part of the free will thing, innit? He’s gotta have the bad choices, or he doesn’t have choices.”\n\nGod’s face became troubled and his voice shaky. “If I do that, why, he could get himself hurt, or, or-“\n\nMichael leapt to his feet and pulled some spare parts from his robe. “Come on, calm down. Here, make a beetle, you know that always calms you down.”\n\nGod took the parts into His hand. “If I let him have the bad choices…”\n\nMichael blinked. “What would happen?”\n\nGod fiddled with the parts, a bug forming. “Chaos, defiance, pain…death.” His hand closed around the beetle, squishing it.\n\nMichael jumped back, startled, and swore. “Christ, it’s not alive anymore! Things can do that?”\n\nGod looked down at his hand and gave a start. The beetle reformed, shook itself and winged off. Michael sighed in relief.\n\nGod shook his head. “You’re right, of course. I have to give him the bad choices too, by me!”\n\nMichael nodded. “Good man. You know, this thing IS kind of cute. But, um, shouldn’t there be two? You know, one with one set of tackle, the other equipped, er, differently…” he finished lamely. Angels don’t have much experience in this area.\n\nGod blinked. “Hmm? Oh, I doubt it. It should be fine for now anyway.” He gave a barely suppressed squeal. “Aww, I just can’t contain myself! Look at it’s little toes! I just love him! I do good work indeed!”\n\nMichael raised a hand. “Sea creatures?”\n\nGod winced. “Oh, just a little bad temper there. I’ll just put em way deep down, where they won’t meet this little guy. Alright, thank you, Michael, as always your opinions help so much. I’ll be in my workshop grabbing a few things and then I’ll wake this little cutie up.”\n\nGod disappeared and Michael rolled another cigarette, looking down at the sleeping form. He chuckled. “You know, I don’t think he realizes what he’s getting himself into. You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?” he smiled. “Oh well. It’s a big universe, kid, you’ll find a lot to do.” He knelt down next to it and whispered in its sleeping ear. “You want my advice? Ask for a partner. The animals seem to like ‘em.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: The concept of \"XP\" is based around the fact that killing creatures empowers you, be it slaying a dragon or a putting down a lame horse, any killing works. You just invented antibiotics." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Aston, a big guy in his forties sat hunched on his working table, fiddling with a glass tube with some green glowing liquid and a bowl filled with some viscous liquid covered in white spots.\n\nBeads of sweat were going down the wrinkles he had gotten while spending his time eyes narrowed on his experiment.\n\nSlowly, he poured the green liquid in the bowl, drop by drop, aiming for each white spot. At each drop, a small puff of smoke was produced.\n\nIt had been ten years. First, he had lost his wife Midriga due to an epidemic of Kesh’ar the demon of plague and dieseases. Then, his only son Rodric, died of an infection because an unimportant soldier such as him didn’t deserve the attention of the few priests present in the camp.\n\nAt first, Aston wished to fight, to go and kill Kesh’ar, to go and whip the ass of all those nobles and stupid bishops playing politics instead of saving as many people as possible. But what could he do? He was level 14. Not that it is this bad for a villager, but what about those nobles? The weaker ones were maybe only level 10, but with level 40 guards, he couldn’t do much; The bishop were all at the level of knight at level 50 minimum; And Kesh’ar? No one exactly knew as the few people who could hold their own against him couldn’t fight him head on because of his underhanded methods. One had to be much stronger to actually make him fight seriously. The last one that did was the previous generation’s hero. He had fought with him, disgusted by the suffering he inflicted to the people, and their death. He never came back.\n\nAfter he lost his familly, he wallowed in despair for two years befor finding a new objective.\n\nThe problem with Kesh’ar was that each person killed by his plague contributed his xp to making him stronger. After so many centuries, who knows how strong he had become. And since killing something gave minimum 1 xp... The milions of people dying in epidemics...\n\nAs the last drop was poured, the white spots that had recieved the liquid were disapearing.\n\n“I made it! Finally! I found a way!”\n\nAston jumped in joy.\n\nHe could maybe not find a way to fight the demon head on, but if he could make his dieseases inefective, he would at least stop the plague lord from getting stronger.\n\nHe had spent the last 8 years perfecting this potion that could eliminate the diesease.\n\nHe was excitedly writing the result with a worn out quill in an old leather book he used to record his progress, the fingers of the hand taping frenetically on the table like he couldn’t wait to note down everything to the last detail. Suddenly, his fingers pushed holes through the table. He machinally continued, but when his eyes finally moved to see where this weird sensation on was coming from, all he saw were holes poked through the table. He remained speachless for a moment, before feeling dizzy. As he was falling down, his mind going dark, his last thoughts were total confusion about those mysterious holes through the table.\n\nA few hours later, he woke up, still a bit blurry.\n\nHe carefully tried to remember what had happened and suddenly wanted to finish to note down the experiment before he forgot the reciepe and the exact results.\n\nJust when he pushed himself up with his hands to quickly get back to it, he propulsed himself to the ceiling leaving a dent on it before falling back down.\n\n“Ouch!” he said instinctively.\n\nHowever, he realized he was perfectly fine.\n\nThis time he carefully got up, very slowly. It’s then that he noticed how light he felt.\n\nHe felt like an helium baloon, like if leaving the ground would make him fly up forever.\n\nHe carefully experimented, taking various pieces of the broken table he had just fell on, disregarding the various mixtures and concoctions staining his worn out grey robe.\n\nHe could turn a piece of sturdy wood to dust, with just a ‘light squeeze’.\n\nThe exact expression that had appeared at every discovery, those narrowed eyes burning with an intensity reflecting his craving to understand and take apart the thing he was curious about inside out emereged.\n\nHe carefully took the book from the ground, and finished to note the record of the first experiment.\n\nHe blew on the ink to make it dry, then, on the new page, he noted ‘Experimental log: Herculean strenght, day one’ before detailing his sensations.\n\nHowever he had do find another way to measure his progress. He quickly took his vest, and went to the local adventurer guild.\n\nIn that small town, the biggest job was gathering herbs so most people were E and F ranked adventurers.\n\nAston wasn’t actually interested in that, but the guild card had the capability to display the stats in a confidential way. Only the owner of the card could see it.\n\nAs he went out in the middle of the afternoon, he came across a few surprised faces. Everyone knew he almost never got out, except to grab some herbs for his experiment. Even the food he ate was brought to him by Anny, the daughter of the old aubergist. She was a beatiful 30 yo lady that had always refused mariage with anyone. The only person she seemed to care about was Aston, since he had healed her father’s open fracture by putting the bone back in place and stitching it back close. He had even stopped wallowing in despair and helped until the old man got better. Sadly for her, he was unaware, as the only thing HE cared about was his herbs and vials now.\n\nHe quickly made his way to the adventurer’s guild.\n\nIn truth, the only reason why there was a guild in such a remote town was to link up with the border and serve as a relay of information. The guild was mostly independant from countries, and always maintained its own network of information and communitcation since its creation, thanks to the communication slates. With a maximum range of 5000 kilometers, the guilds were put strategically in different cities. Most of the time big ones, but sometimes less so, to keep each guild connected to at least 3 others at all time. Their requirements when it came to the border of a country were even more draconian. They built a guild or a relay station every 1000 km or so.\n\n(edit: ortograph, formating, reformulation)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You can write any story, but it must end with \"And that's how I ended up arm wrestling Fidel Castro\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The party was held in a long, narrow house. All of the valuables had been taken away and replaced with Jack Sparrows, Batmen and Harley Quinn’s. One guy was in a full Iron Man costume. It must have cost a fortune, I thought.\n\nI shouldered my case of beer and walked through the revelry looking for a place to park myself.\n\nI wasn’t about to fork out big bucks on a costume party. In my closet I had found a robe, a play lightsabre and a fake beard, all left over from childish pursuits and past dress up parties. Considering I can’t really pull off and Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon Jinn it was.\n\nA muscle bound meat-head with a flowing yellow wig and a faux metal skirt knocked me with his hammer as he walked passed. It seemed intentional, a dominance thing.\n\n“What are you supposed to be,” I said before I could stop myself. “Goldilocks?”\n\nI’m a bit like that. I never know when to keep my big mouth shut. The big guy looked me up and down and smiled assuredly.\n\n“I’m the god of thunder,” he said. “And you? Squat Qui-Gon?”\n\nI’m not squat, I thought sullenly. Thor chuckled to himself and walked off.\n\n\t\n\nI left my case of beer on the counter while I talked to a pretty girl in a green dress, red hair and pointy ears. She said she was a Tauriel, whatever the hell that is.\n\n“I’ve never seen a Star War,” she slurred her words. “Are all the Jedi’s so… squat?”\n\nI went red. Stocky, not squat, I said to myself.\n\nBefore I could say anything the pixie girl tipped to one side and her Captain and Coke came pouring down my robe. \t\n\n“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” she said.\n\nPushing past more superheros, gorillas and a man in his underwear, I found the bathroom. I was drenched, sticky. For a moment I tried to scrub it off but that wasn’t going to work. Time to ditch the robe.\n\n\t\n\nI wandered drunkenly through the house looking for somewhere to sit and recalibrate. In the hall a sexy Princess Peach fondled my beard before an angry looking Yoshi pulled her into one of the rooms. Finally, I found the dining table and collapsed onto a chair, catching my breath.\n\nThat’s when Thor spotted me.\n\n“Hey,\" said the barrel chested man puffing a huge cigar. “I bet you one of these” – he pointed at the cigar – “you can’t beat me”\n\n“Beat you in what?” I asked, drunkenly tripping over my own words.\n\nThor sat down and thrust his elbow down on the table, arm upright, hand open. He wanted to arm wrestle me. I hadn’t arm wrestled anyone since I was ten and I hadn’t been good at it then.\n\nBut I was drunk, the night wasn’t going my way and I am don’t make the best choices after a few drinks.\n\n“Sure,” I said.\n\nThe god of thunder grabbed my hand and tensed up. I felt his strength start pulling on me but surprisingly my arm didn’t budge. Sure, I was straining hard but I was holding my own. Slowly my arm started coming down on his, and he looked at me with wide eyes, full of surprise.\n\nA group had started to form to watch our contest. Some applauded for me, some for him. We traded advantage, arms tilting and biceps burning.\n\nWhen my arm brought his hand smashing down on the table, a cheer rose from the group. Thor shook his vanquished arm and looked at me, baffled.\n\n“Damn,” he said handing me a fresh cigar. “Good work there Qui-Gon.”\n\n“Thanks,” I said, and motion for a lighter. “You put up a good fight Goldilocks.”\n\nThor laughed and looked at the crowd. “Anyone else want to try their luck against a Jedi master?”\n\n“I do,” several budding contestants called. A very skinny guy dressed as Death, complete with scythe, took Thor’s place.\n\n“You know,” said the Grim Reaper. “You don’t look like a Jedi to me. More like a squat version of that Cuban guy. What’s his name?”\n\nAnd that’s how I ended up Arm Wrestling Fidel Castro." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: She normally kept her large breasts hidden under bulky or baggy clothing. But then she drew the short straw to be in the harvest festival dunking tank, and now she'd be on full display in a bikini for everyone. Certainly, it was the chilly air making her nipples so stiff... Right?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I stared at the apple cider doughnuts on the table. I didn't want to eat them. My stomach still felt strange, and I still felt lightheaded and dizzy. I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd just seen. Beside me on the couch, Zach reached for one of the doughnuts, then pulled his hand back. Last year we bought all sorts of stuff at the harvest festival--candy apples, popcorn, apple cider doughnuts--and pigged out together afterwards, but this time, even though we bought all the same stuff, the mood was different.\n\n\"Erica was really something,\" said Zach. His voice sounded strange, and it looked like his sweatpants were tented. Normally I'd think it's weird seeing that my roommate had a hard-on, but I was working on a chub too.\n\n\"Yeah,\" I said. The scene replayed through my mind again: Erica drew the short straw. I'd been a little disappointed, since I was hoping for a bombshell like Tiffany or Vanessa to draw it. Erica wasn't bad-looking, with an OK face, an OK body, medium brown hair that she normally kept in braids, and a take-no-shit attitude. What do you expect from a volleyball player? I didn't know her well, but I thought that seeing Erica get dunked would kind of be like seeing my sister get dunked. We'd gotten a good view of the tank, but I was wondering if it was effort wasted.\n\n\"Well, rules are rules--and it's not like I didn't prepare for this,\" Erica had said. I wasn't even looking too hard at her when she took off her grey sweatshirt, just letting my eyes play over the crowd, when I heard Zach suck in a weird-sounding breath, and one of the boys far away gave a wolf whistle. My eyes snapped back to Erica, and I just saw the rest of her baggy grey sweatshirt come off.\n\nHoly shit! Who knew that someone like Erica has a body like that? Massive boobs barely contained in a black bikini top, a slim, toned waist, and arms that were absolutely sculpted. Seeing that kind of body emerge from that sweatshirt--no, seeing that Erica had been hiding that kind of body all along--was like opening up a candy bar and finding a Golden Ticket. It was like opening up a ragged old softcover at the thrift store and finding $100 inside. It was like stepping into a rusty old Honda and finding out that it had the power train of a Ferrari.\n\nShe stepped out of her grey sweatpants, and it turned out that her legs were perfect too: long, toned, and beautiful.\n\n\"Damn...\" I'd muttered.\n\n\"You're saying,\" Zach had muttered.\n\nShe was merciless against the boys who attempted to throw balls at the target. \"Is that all you've got? My little sister could do better than that--blindfolded!\"\n\nFinally it was one of the volleyball girls who hit the target. Erica gave the cutest little yelp as she was dunked into the water which I could barely hear over the cheers of the horny boys. In the tank, her braids and her massive breasts floated just a little, and she gave a frog kick to get out of the tank almost as fast as she went in. I knew as soon as I saw it that I would be remembering that frog kick too.\n\nAfter she climbed out of the tank, one of the volleyball girls gave her a towel, and I caught a glimpse of shy smile as she accepted it with a \"Thanks\".\n\n\"I think we'd better go home,\" Zach had said in a strangled voice. His sweatpants were tented strongly.\n\n\"Yeah, I think we should call it a day,\" I'd said." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Some adults are still \"It\" from childhood games of tag. Tag has now been banned because many \"It\" adults have gone missing." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I remember the day. We all do. At least, those of us who were still alive.\n\nNovember 25th, 2017. I was playing at the park nearby, when my mother came up to me, grave as a gravestone. She told me to \"come home that instant, Katherine!\" Unknowing of what was to comes, I followed, wondering why she was so... tense. When we got home, I notices the television was on. The president was warning each and every American to stop playing tag. He said it so seriously that no-one dared disobey, but everyone wondered, in the back of their mind, what the danger was.\n\nTony, my school's bully and known troublemaker, decided to play tag, solely to break the rules. He waited until dark, so no-one could intervene. Some of his friends joined in, and they began to play, just outside of the school. Tony started as it but before he could rag anyone, something came out of the school.\n\nIt was 20 feet tall, and was made entirely of bones. It had 4 horns coming out of its head, and 3 eye sockets. It made an odd creaking sound as it exited the school. All of the children were fixed on the monster, frozen with shock. It looked around, before spotting the boys. Its eyes flashed crimson, and with an inhuman shriek, charged at Tony. It grabbed him and ran back to the school, with his terrifies friends still frozen. It took around 20 seconds for one of them to scream and run home, with the others soon following.\n\nTony was absent the next day, and everyone assumed he was sick. What nobody could answer was why his friends were all pale and covered with cold sweat. Several people asked them, but they never answered and simply looked at the wall, terrified, as if it was a fearsome beast. One of them jumped off the school to commit suicide, and succeeded. Nobody knew what was happening, but I was determined to get to the bottom of this.\n\nI cornered one of the friends the following day and demanded to know what happened. He told me what happened and immediately scurried away. The story left me curious, because he said it came from the school itself. There was only one place in the school that I had never been, and that was the teachers' lounge. I hatched a plan to get in. I called my family at school to tell them that I would be staying at a friend's house for the night. Of course, this was a lie.\n\nFor the rest of the day, I couldn't wait until the final bell. The library had several large boxes of old books in the back that nobody ever paid attention to, and my plan was to hide in there at the end of the day and cover myself with books. Of wasn't easy. We had a pre-calculus test in 6th period that I was sure I failed, but my mind was preoccupied with my plan. \"What if I get caught?\" \"What will I find?\" \"Why are there those weird stickers on apples and bananas?\" These questions bounced around in my head until the bell finally rung, and I could execute my master plan.\n\nThe evening passed with no conflict, although the librarian did walk too close to the bins a couple of times. After he went home for the day, I snuck out, careful to make as little noise as possible. I made my way to the teachers' lounge and looked around for something that could alert me to where the beast could be. It wasn't hard, though. There was a big hole in the wall, with steps leading downwards. I walked down them, tiptoeing to make as little noise as possible in the echoing cavern. I saw another doorway, with faint light, and I peeked in. What I saw was bonechilling.\n\nTony was hanging, dead, from a meat hook, dripping blood directly above a table. My teachers were sitting around this table, with golden goblet filled with what I assumed was Tony's blood. Sitting in a throne at the head of the table was the beast that Tony's friend described to me. It had a goblet three times as big as the teachers', and was slurping it up with great gusto. After a few seconds, the beast turned, looked directly at me, and let out an inhuman shriek, the very same it uttered when it saw Tony. All the teachers turned around, masks of rage upon their faces.\n\n'KATHERINE!! What are you doing here??\", they cried. I was too terrified to move, let alone speak. When I didn't answer, they dragged me to a closet, saying \"You can be next, after Tony.\"\n\nCuriosity killed the Kat..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Since you could remember, you have always found enough lemons magically at your door everyday to make a glass of lemonade. You left a thank you note yesterday and today there is a letter from life instead of lemons." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I looked at the note, surprised it was signed by Life itself. \"Either this is real and the saying has been taken literally by Life...or this is some elaborate joke.\" \"No, it's not a joke.\" I heard a voice say. I looked around, and saw a being coming out of a bush. It was made of light itself, the only thing stopping the beams was the long, celestial colored cloak it wore. \"I'm sorry, but...how?\" I asked Life. \"How? Well, it's simple. You're my brother, so I wanted to be nice.\" I was silent. Did Life itself just tell me I was their brother...? Yes, Life DID just say that. Huh. \"I'm your BROTHER?\" I said. \"Yep. You heard me right.\" A thousand questions were running through my head, but the one I asked was simple: \"How can a force of nature have siblings?\" After a 10 hour long explanation, I was shocked still. I was the brother of Life. But then I stopped and looked at Life. \"I'm sorry, where are my manners? I'm sorry my yard is...dead...\" I looked at the bush Life came out of. \"That bush was dead just earlier today. How is it alive now?\" Life looked at me with a stare that said, \"Really?\" I simply said, \"Right.\" Then I brought Life in for a drink of lemonade. I apologized again for my dead front yard and backyard. \"I've never really had a green thumb. It's like everything I touch dies.\" Life looked at me, and said, \"That's exactly it. Everything you touch dies.\" I realized what Life meant. I was Death. I was Death itself. I was the brother of Life and I was Death. \"Here's your cloak back. Sorry I took it to give to the Reaper, but you had to lose your memory, so someone had to replace you.\" Life gave me a cloak that was the color of emptiness itself. Suddenly, millions of memories flooded through my head. I remembered the beginning of the universe, the very first creature, the first animal, the first human, the first EVERYTHING! No wonder I'm so bad at gardening. I'm Death. I put the cloak on, and my skin withered and melted away, revealing nothing but a dark infinite abyss for a body. \"Come on, Death. Let's go home.\" Life reached into her body and brought out an hourglass, which she used to open a portal to what seemed like paradise. I tried the same, and brought out the incredibly iconic Scythe of mine. I entered the portal, following Life, and we sat down at a giant oak that grew golden apples. \"Welcome to Eden,\" Life said. Why am I still calling her Life? After I remembered everything, I knew Life preferred to be called she, just as I preferred he. \"Oh, and don't eat the apples. You remember what happened to Adam and Eve.\" So, we relaxed and watched as a third being stepped through a portal. Their body seemingly made of the universe itself. Life looked at the being, which was dressed in a toga-like robe. \"Welcome back, boss. Who do we have to give life to and who do we have to kill today?\" Life asked. \"Here you go, your lists. Oh, and call me by my name, Life.\" Life looked embarrassed (how? She doesn't have facial features) and simply muttered, \"Yes, Dee.\" Dee? Dee? What I assume is God themself is named Dee?! Life looked at me, seemingly reading my mind, and said, \"It's short for Deity.\" I nodded, and looked at my list. I was gonna have to travel across the entire universe and kill so many things in seconds. Eh, what's time to an immortal, am I right?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: At the funeral of your grandmother, three men in dark suits show up and approach you. They say, \"The Adeyemi family sends their regards\". You start to think your grandmothers day job at the hotel \"taking care of guests\" was more than that." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It had been a long and difficult day.\n\nHe sighed deeply as the last guest left, finally letting the forced smile to fade. He knew it would be hard, pretending to be pleasant and polite when he felt anything but. Yet he knew he had to be at his best, not for himself but for her. He loved her with every bit of his being and he ached with her gone.\n\nFor as long as he could remember, his Grandmother took care of him. From when he was barely older than a toddler to well into adulthood, she had watched over him, comforted him. She celebrated his achievements, provided solace at his failures, and she never stopped believing in him. She was there when her parents left, she was there when his siblings wanted nothing to do with him, she was always there.\n\nNow she was gone.\n\nShe died in her sleep, something he was grateful for. She endured no pain, no fear, she simply passed in comfort. When he found her, he thought that would be the hardest part. Dealing with her sudden loss.\n\nUnfortunately it was not to be. She had considerable assets, money she saved after a life of careful living despite her generosity. She had made him the warden of her estate, trusting him to distribute her legacy as she wished. He did it happily. She gave away a lot of her fortune, to her friends and to causes she believed in. The rest she left to him, her youngest grandson.\n\nOf course his parents and his siblings hated that. They thought they deserved more. Never mind that he spent the most time with her, never mind they ignored her. Never mind that they never loved her like he did. They claimed he stole the money that was rightfully theirs. Ludicrous. He had the will and her lawyers to defend him. He did not care about them.\n\nHe would have traded it all away to have her back.\n\n\"I wish you were here Grandma,\" he whispered with head bowed and tears building.\n\n\"As do I.\"\n\nHe started, head turning and he hurriedly wiped the tears away. He thought he was alone in the room, he never heard them come in. Three men stood there, all dressed in black suits. Two were near identical copies of each other, large and broad shouldered, eyes that never stayed still. The third was older, smaller, yet his presence dwarfed theirs.\n\n\"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you,\" the grandson said. He sniffled and tried to smile.\n\nThe old man smiled sadly. \"Please, do not hold back on my account. Feel. Weep. It is clear you loved her dearly.\"\n\nThe young man could not hold the tears back. He nodded jerkily. \"I did. She was the best.\" He breathed deep. \"Did you know my Grandma?\"\n\nThe old man nodded. \"I count myself fortunate to have known her. She was an amazing woman.\" He held out his hand. \"The Adeyemi Family sends their regards. My name is Ephraim Adeyemi. It is a pleasure to meet you Alan.\"\n\nAlan shook his hand. \"You know me?\"\n\n\"Oh yes. Your Grandmother always spoke of you. So many stories. I feel like I watched you grow up.\"\n\n\"Oh! You must own the hotel she worked at. She really loved working for you. She could have retired for years but she always liked working at the hotel. Said it kept her active and she liked her co-workers.\"\n\nThe two big men, who looked like statues, smiled ever so slightly. The old man grinned. \"We loved her. Everyone did. She took very good care of the family and did her job without fault. We will miss her.\" He dabbed at his eyes with a silk handkerchief.\n\n\"Are you here to pay your respects?\"\n\n\"In a way. We are here to fulfill a promise. We came for you.\"\n\nAlan looked confused. \"For me? Are you offering me a job or something?\"\n\nEphraim shook his head. \"If you want a job then I would find one for you. Your Grandmother was hesitant about you joining the business. However we are here to protect you.\"\n\nAlan's confusion deepened. \"Protection? From who?\"\n\n\"Your Grandmother made some enemies while working for the Adeyemi Family. No one that talented would not incur the attention of those jealous of her. There are those without morals that would try to do harm to you with your Grandmother passed. Fear of her stayed their hands. Without that fear, they would do what they dreamed of.\"\n\n\"Enemies? Grandma had no enemies! What are you talking about?\"\n\nBefore the old man could reply a thud was heard outside. Immediately one of the big men stood in front of Ephraim, hand pulling out a gun. At Ephraim's gesture, the other grabbed Alan, pushing him down to the ground.\n\nBefore Alan could protest the doors were flung wide and a man fell in, bleeding from a gunshot wound. A second man staggered into the open door. Two shots from the two bodyguards knocked him down and a gun fell from nerveless fingers.\n\nEphraim did not look shocked. Instead he looked annoyed. \"They have no shame! Trying to attack her grandson on this day where he buried her! Oh I will burn them down to the roots for this.\" He looked down at Alan and his eyes burned. \"Your Grandmother asked me to watch over you as a business deal. It is business no longer. Now it is personal. Come along Alan, you are not safe alone.\"\n\nAlan gaped as the bodyguard lifted him to his feet and gently but insistently pushed him after his fellow and Ephraim. \"What...what did Grandma do at your hotel?\"\n\nEphraim smiled. \"She took care of our guests. Some guests needed... more care than others.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You are the Lighthouse Keeper at the end of the world. Past your little sliver of rock the sea empties into an abyss. Today, as you sit at your post you see something coming out of the abyss." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The old man trudged up the stairs. His bones creaked with every step, but he carried on, his lantern swaying as he held them close.\n\nThe sun was setting on the edge of the world, and as the great ball of fire that provided guidance lowered its head, something must replace it. A smaller light, just enough to provide beacon and relief to weary sailors.\n\nThe match was lit. The great lantern atop the lighthouse burned once more. A tiny flicker in an endless sea of black.\n\nSoon the sun will dip behind the sea, though here, at the edge of the world, only one half of the horizon gets any light. The other half, that which the old man was facing now, was an abyss. A darkness so deep it consumes everything.\n\nThe old man sighs. His job was simple, but never easy. He tends to the lighthouse, ensuring that it burns all throughout the long night. During the day he mostly relaxes, ensure that he has sufficient rest to endure the unending dark, with only the lantern in his hand and the light of the lighthouse for company.\n\nAs he settles into his seat, he gazes out into the abyss. There was nothing to see there. It was black, blacker than anything in the world. But still the old man couldn't help but look. There nothing else to look at either, besides the lighthouse itself.\n\nSo the man looked at the abyss. The endless dark. And the pinpricks of light in the dist--\n\nWait.\n\nThe old man could make out but a few twinkles against the darkness. And it was coming his way. He frowned.\n\nShips sailing into the abyss do so on a schedule. Though the sun does not reach into the abyss, its light was a giant beacon, hurrying sailors along. For when the sun dips into the sea, the horrors of the abyss emerge. Unknowing, indescribable creatures that gnaw and tear at everything in their path. Only the radiance of the sun holds them at bay.\n\nStill, sometimes ships do come late, and it was the small light from the lighthouse that guided their way, though not their protection. You would need a very large and armed ship to traverse the abyss safely at night, and the ship coming to him seemed small. Nearly just a boat, if he was being honest. The old man hoped that whoever was on the ship, they knew how to fight.\n\nThe lighthouse offered meager protection, but it was enough for the most part. Typical creatures of the dark do not dare come close, for they risk being burned when the sun rose again, unless they were either foolish.\n\nOr powerful.\n\nThe old man grabs his small lantern and heads back down. He takes a pistol from his bedside. Better to be safe than sorry, after all.\n\nSoon enough, the lights reached the shore. Very dim lights, the old man noted. The old man could see the light moving once more, no doubt being removed from their posts.\n\nA group of sailors emerged from the ship, their faces dimly illuminated by their lanterns.\n\n\"Hail!\" one of them said.\n\n\"Hail!\" hollered the old man back.\n\n\"You've called into port quite late,\" he said as the sailors drew near. There was nothing very special about them. From what he could see, they were just ordinary sailors. They were also squinting from the light. Strange.\n\n\"Aye. Ran into some rough waves about a day's worth of sailing from here,\" the first sailor replied. \"We were lucky nothing too bad ambushed us.\"\n\n\"Indeed. Very lucky, I daresay,\" agreed the old man. The sailors didn't seem to be fighting men, youths and faces that haven't been worn down by the rigors of the sea. Especially one as treacherous as the abyss.\n\n\"Would it be alright to leave our ship here?\"\n\n\"Yes, but make sure to move it away at first light's dawn. There are larger ships coming tomorrow, and they won't be happy if their docking was delayed.\"\n\nThe first sailor flashed him a smile. \"Of course, lighthouse keeper. Now then, is there any town close by here? We are starving and we are looking for a place to eat.\"\n\n\"I have food.\" The old man raised his lantern to the first sailor to get a better look, but the man flinched and held up his hand.\n\n\"Oh, we wouldn't want to intrude upon your hospitality!\" said the first sailor, laughing slightly.\n\nThe old man raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"It is now dark. The creatures of the abyss will be upon you the moment you leave this lighthouse.\"\n\n\"It is no trouble,\" replied the first sailor. He brandished a pistol. \"See, we can protect ourselves.\"\n\nThe rest of the sailors also held up their weaponry. One even carried a rifle.\n\nThe old man regarded them with a scrutinizing eye. The dangers of youth. They really should stay with him, but who was he if a group of youths decided to throw themselves to their deaths.\n\n\"Littlefolk, a hour's walk south of here. There's an inn there called the Red Fairy. Tell the innkeeper that you know Argus. She'll get you fed and watered.\"\n\n\"Many thanks, lighthouse keeper!\" said the first sailor, his smile getting wider.\n\n\"We shall be on our way now.\"\n\nThe old man watched the sailors as vanished into the dark and once more became pinpricks in the distance.\n\nOddly, the pinpricks never disappeared.\n\nIn the morning, he would discover that the lanterns had been left behind on the ground soon after the sailors left the lighthouse." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A talkative demon strikes up an unlikely and forbidden friendship with a blind angel, who is unaware of what their dear friend really is." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Limbo. The one plane of existence where both demons and angels could see each other. Of course that was against the rules and actually talking to one of the other species was breaking, well, most of the rules.\n\nSome may ask “Why even have this place, where two could potentially meet and break all those rules?” My answer, I don’t have a clue. Of course the official reason is people and creatures who aren’t good enough for heaven or bad enough for hell are sent here. As a way of testing them, deciding where they should go. The demons and angels then take them away after testing. Testing sounds like a harsh word, when really people are just left to live their lives for a year, a confusing point system calculates where they go and someone picks them up. Rather simple really.\n\nSo here I was, sent to pick up a guy called Edward. Class bad guy name, I’m surprised he wasn’t in hell already. Anyway, I was making my way through a park as a dog ran up to me. Tiny wings protruding from his back as his tail wagged in glee. A holster and leash around him. “Cerberus,” a voice called. As pure as honey to the ears. “Over here,” I called back searching for the voices origin. Then I saw her, an angel floating just above the ground, yet she didn’t seem to have seen me. I walked over with Cerberus and passed him back to her. “Thank you!” She said. “Sorry if he caused any inconvenience it’s his first day in limbo on the job, he is just excited to meet new people.”\n\n“How do you mean first day on the job? And isn’t the name Cerberus a little off putting?”\n\n“Well I’m not sure if I should be sharing this, but last time I was here, a group of demons attacked me and well, they blinded me, irreparable. But now I have Cerby here to guide me. The name is based on the Greek mythology and Cerberus the guardian of the underworld. Ironic, that’s the point.”\n\n“I-I’m sorry to hear that.” Maybe that was why interactions were banned. The way so many demons acted. Torturing others and injuring them for no good reason. It was horrible. Wrong. All I could do was not join in. But that didn’t stop them or help anyone.\n\n“Who are you?” The angel asked.\n\n“Umm Mitchell,” I said, unsure of how to respond, never actually having been given a name before. “And yourself?”\n\n“Claribelle. As in shining. Although I don’t think I ever shined. Nor can I see it now,” she responded flatly.\n\n“Don’t say that. You are wonderful and will shine forever more. Even if you can’t see it,” I said. Maybe some demons are cruel and evil. But not all. If I could help her, maybe it isn’t much and maybe I won’t redeem all my kind. But maybe I can do some good.\n\n“It is sweet of you to say so Mitchell. For now I have to run, well float, to my target. They are due to be ascended to heaven. I do hope to meet you again, no matter how illegal it is. You seem like a good being,” Claribelle said. As she floated away from me.\n\n“B-b-but how did you know?” I called after her receiving no response. I stood there confused. Well I guess I know what to ask if we meet again." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: The old soldier stands guard one last time." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Most days, Erik sat in his chair and dozed off. Few people ever attempted to steal from the mall, mostly because there was very little worth stealing. The single jewelry shop in the venue did have a significant amount of valuable goods, but it was locked behind a gate impenetrable to your average thief. With the jewelry store aside as an exception, it was beyond him why they even needed anyone to sit there and watch. Regardless, he was getting paid and the night hours let him take his daughter to and from school so he didn't question it.\n\nDuring these nights, when he had nothing to do, he made up stories. He liked to argue with himself, creating different arguments from different characters. They had wildly opposing world views and they would battle it out in one big debate, a spectacle watched around the world. When he got tired of his moral arguments, he would make characters. Exciting scenarios to liven up the dead of the night. He would imagine that he was stuck in a dream, and that he had to break free. He would imagine that the mall was actually some sort of magical land, where none of the rules of the regular world applied. He, perhaps at one point, imagined that he would encounter three dangerous individuals that would break into the mall and leave him dead.\n\nAs his neck slacked backwards and his eyes met the sky, the ceiling towered over him. The mall was dark enough that the windows above let the moonlight peek in and wash over the various stores and booths. He had very much enjoyed this job for a long time, and he knew most of the regular employees by name. He came in just a few minutes before the store clerks and managers began to close up, and would take some time talking to them before the inevitable loneliness of the night settled in. Jenn, who worked at the Shoe Palace just three stores down from the entrance, had caught his interest and he had been working up the courage to ask her out. With his somewhat recently acquired pot belly, his self esteem was at an all time low, and he wasn't sure what his daughter, Sheila, would think about it. He liked to think that she would be okay with him seeing another woman, but it's hard to ever be sure what a kid is thinking--especially a kid as smart as Sheila. He settled that he would ask her in two days. She didn't close on Thursdays, so he would have to be patient through tomorrow.\n\nThe funny thing about the three thieves is that they didn't need the money. James, the first of the three, faced the most probable risk of financial burden. The mother, against his wishes, had the child. He was not to be involved in the child's life, but would pay child support. With his own mother guilting him into paying her bills, he had not quite thought out how he would be able to support two different women. He had a decent job as a waiter, which is how he had met his child's mother. He made one too many mistakes and was now faced by the poverty awaiting him. Of course, if he had continued to work and cut out a few luxuries from his life, he would've scraped by. Sure it would've been difficult, but none of the troubles to come would hold value over the life of a security guard.\n\nThe other two robbers, who remained unnamed to James, wanted to have fun. They lived boring lives in the comfort of parents that loved them. How awful their life must have been with their kempt pool and three bedroom house, that they must have resorted to crime as an outing from their daily lives! Of course, I'm being sarcastic. These were two truly detestable individuals. Rotten to their bone marrow if you will.\n\nIt happened in two minutes.\n\n\"Who's there?\" Erik sits up and scans the area with his flashlight. Their footsteps still echo through the hall. They hadn't expected anyone to be there; they thought that mall cops weren't a real thing. Stupid, I know, but stick with me. It's about to get intense.\n\nThey stop dead in their tracks. Their hairs raise on end. Unnamed robber number 1 reaches for his side. James only now realizes the gravity of the situation. He wants to leave. He wants to apologize to the guard for scaring him and go back to his old life and figure out the issues on his own. He had done this in a poor state of mind, he convinces himself, and he would like to head out now. Maybe if he says sorry, the guard will let him go without any charges.\n\nErik, for the first time during this job, becomes scared. The other guards, while he sees them occasionally, are stationed at specific parts of the mall. Most nights, they won't interact with each other at all due to the distance between their locations.\n\nA minute has passed since Erik's shouted at them.\n\nHe pulls out his radio to call for help. Maybe it's just another guard, and he has nothing to be worried about. But there's something gnawing at the back of his mind. He cannot remember clearly. Too much adrenaline. There seemed like there were too many footsteps. He thinks.\n\nAnd then he's shot. Why? Nobody knows. Both of the unnamed thieves flee the scene and James, God bless his guilt-ridden soul, can't bring himself to flee. He let this happen.\n\nThe second minute passes by as he runs over to Erik, and finds him already dead. He searches for a pulse, but his hands are shaking too much. What do I do, he thinks, if the police think I did it? Do they have security cameras? They can probably identify that it wasn't me. Right?\n\nJames stole nothing, and was placed under arrest. He was cleared on the charge of being an accomplice to Erik's murder, but it didn't matter. His life was gone. Poor Erik has left Sheila all alone in the world. Jenn from Shoe Palace would have rejected him, had he been alive to ask her out, but he would've been okay with it. Erik was a normal guy with an above average resilience to the world's hurdles. Except death.\n\nI personally have had too little experience with death to properly speak about it. I could even argue that it maybe isn't right for me to write about a topic that I know so little about. Am I denying people of a decent portrayal of the grief and sorrow that comes with death? I'm not sure. I've been very lucky in my own life to not have to deal with death as often as others do. \"I\" of course, refers to myself. The person writing this.\n\nThe moral of the story, should you choose to believe there is one, is that none of this had to happen. James, had he been insightful enough to use protection, would have never been desperate enough to pair himself with two strangers that he met on a particularly bad night (Of course, most people don't have a child and think that robbing a store to pay their bills is a good idea). He was high and drunk and whatever stasis that one finds themselves in after a large cocktail of regret, self-loathing, and hate settles in. Death is abnormally frequent and systematic. It happens in unexpected scenarios, and it finds itself intentless. Erik is a victim, much like you and I, to time.\n\nBut maybe I'm just rambling here. Maybe I've overthought my insightfulness, and should rethink my philosophy. Am I too pessimistic? I'm not quite sure. I think it's about time I doze off now." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You travel back in time 100 years only to find a desolate wasteland with a small group of aliens writing history books." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The time machine, although the first of its kind, hand been rigourously thought through. Unmanned prototypes had tested not only the ability to move back through time - albeit in relatively small mini-leaps - but the ability to compensate for the changes in space so that the machine would appear in the same terrestrial location.\n\nAndrews marvelled at the achievement. 'Funny', he thought, as he walked around the relatively featureless exterior, a chrome spheroid known in-house as the Pebble. The 'Funny' was both at the nickname and the situation he had found himself in as the pilot. The name, ironically understated but - as Andrews had thought when he first heard the moniker - foreboding. Pebbles create ripples. The job of the Pebble was not to create ripples. Not to create ripples at all. That lead to his second thought, that regarding his situation, how he ended up here. That the theoretical and engineering feats had been achieved at all, still blew his mind. That that had been the least painful part of the process - due to the Supermind® AI's flawless modelling and manufacturing - was, well he didn't know what to call it. Equal parts awe, resentment and suspicion he supposed. However, he was a practical man and the Pebble having been created, well to him anyway, meant it should be used. Andrews however, was in the minority.\n\nThe Pebble had been mothballed for years, while it was debated, morally, ethically, politically and every other way. Even for its religious implications, Jesus, the Budda, Mohammed, could we go back and learn from them? How would that affect the religious institutions that still held the hearts and minds of millions of people.\n\nAlthough all that seemingly endless debating frustrated the hell out of Andrews, it had been to his favour. Two other 'pilots' had come and gone without ever even touching this pinnacle of human achievement. Andrews had, for the longest time, thought this opportunity would pass him by too. But finally, something had changed and agreements had been reached. Andrews would be the first human to ever make a leap.\n\nHe still didn't really understand why. Why humans needed to go. Not really. AI and robotics made him obsolete for data collection. Any aging or other medibio research could've been done using organ cultures in synthetic functioning systems as had been done in the prototype mini-leaps. Andrews wasn't allowed stray more than 10 meters from the Pebble which generated a field designed to suppress almost any time changing effects. The sensors were all built-in and though he would control them the on-board AI could've done that (the Pebble could not be controlled through time obviously), it was busy work.\n\nThe hangar Andrews and the pebble were in were closed off from the rest of the facility. He felt oddly alone, the occasion unceremonious despite the final preparations with the team moments before. He entered the Pebble. The machine was on already, preparing for the leap. He was closed in to the cabin, comfortable and comforted by the enclosed space of the tight dim cabin, the only light coming from the numerous panels surrounding him.\n\nThe low hum grew louder in the Pebble, indicating that it was about to leap. There was a....slipping sensation, followed by a slight physical pop/crack and he was done. He'd arrived. As unceremoniously as everything else in this whole mission he had just made that first human leap. He was back 100 years in time. A human first! His excitement rose suddenly. He wanted to say something, something profound, but he never was very good with that sort of thing. Even reporting his condition was pointless, vitals were continuously recorded. Instead he asked Pebble to bring up visuals.\n\nExcitement instantly turned to an ice spike of dread in his stomach. This wasn't where he was supposed to be. This wasn't it at all! This was a desert, there were no deserts 100 years ago at the testing site, it was specifically selected to be a slap bang in the middle of rural USA. A plain surrounded by forrest. But this, this was desert, 360 degrees of fucking sand! The cool, calm voice of Pebble cut through Andrews' rising panic \"unknown... 300m, 12 degrees\". \"Unknown what?!\" Snapped back Andrews, already resigning himself to perishing here on this place, after all, something was wrong, either in time or space. Something the machine had failed on and now it was failing at even basic data collection. \"Unknown, unknown Pebble\" responded.\n\nAndrews' dread, so consuming now that he felt it turning him numb. The reassuring comfort of the tight cabin was now suffocating. He had to get out \"Pebble, open the hatch\".\n\nEdit: spelling and grammar" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A guy wants to start a crime gang but doesn't know any criminals so he has open interviews." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“I’m sorry, Franklin, I just don’t think you’re Cobras material,” I told him truthfully. “I wish you the best of luck in all your future transgressions.”\n\nI put my hand out for him to shake but, rather than take it, he continued to protest. “But wait, I’m getting a tattoo tomorrow!”\n\nThis made me pause. I was new to the gang world, and had a meager understanding of what leading my own required. A guy with tattoos seemed like a necessary addition to the team. So I asked, “Of what?”\n\nFranklin leaned forward in his chair excitedly. “Okay, so two dolphins –“\n\n“No.” I may not be gang savvy, but I knew enough to recognize this as unsuitable.\n\nThe man seemed so deflated by my response, I felt obliged to soften the blow. “Have you tried any of the gangs in Scarsdale? They’re always in need of help, and I think you’d be a much better fit in a more rural area.” He didn’t seem consoled, so I concluded firmly, “Thank you for your interest. Would you please send in the next candidate?”\n\n“Alright then, thanks for your time. I hope you’ll keep me in mind for any future positions,” Franklin replied politely, though clearly upset. He stood and hastily fled the room.\n\nCrossing his name off the list left me with one last interview. So far I’d recruited six qualified men, though each had their own significant drawback. Donny with his “little arm”, Min Ho’s unstable temper, Ethan’s lack of teeth… None were the well-rounded gangster I’d been searching for. I didn’t have much time to reflect on this before there was a knock on the door.\n\n“Come in!” I called out from inside the abandoned warehouse.\n\nA tall man with the stature of a heavyweight boxer entered slowly. “Hey,” he greeted me with muted emotion.\n\n“Hello -” I stopped to double check my list. “Hello, Arthur. Please have a seat.” I motioned towards the old metal folding chair that may or may not successfully hold his weight.\n\nHe glanced at it and seemed to agree. “I’ll stand.”\n\n“As you like,” I told him, hoping not to betray my uneasiness. “Hmm… so it says here you were with the Camden Crows for five years. Impressive. May I ask what prompted you to leave the group?”\n\nArthur nodded as though he’d expected this question. “You know, I’ll tell you, the Crows are a great group of guys and all, but I was just getting tired of shooting up the same neighborhoods. Every day it was Locust Ave. or Hudson Street. The same stores, the same bystanders. I’m looking for a change.”\n\n“I see. That sounds reasonable. So you were mainly administering drive-bys?”\n\n“For the most part. I also did several B + E’s, but those were mostly on the weekends to continue my education. I didn’t score much, but alarm systems are progressing so rapidly these days. It’s hard to find the time to keep up.”\n\n“True,” I concurred as though I had firsthand knowledge of this or any other felonious crimes. To conceal any lack of confidence I kept my head down, looking at my notebook.\n\n“I also led the investigatory team for research into emerging competition,” Arthur continued.\n\n“Ah, interesting, how did you handle that?” I looked up to see the barrel of a pistol pointed at my forehead.\n\n“Give me your wallet,” Arthur demanded.\n\nI reached into my pocket without taking my eyes off the gun. The man grabbed the wallet from my hand before I had time to extend my arm and give it.\n\n“There’s only one gang in this town, buddy. The Crows are giving you your first and last warning. Get your shit and leave.”\n\n“Yes sir,” I said, remaining motionless as he exited backwards, his finger sliding across his neck to mimic the knife that would inevitably be for me. That was when I decided to move to Scarsdale." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You're a long-suffering Italian plumber named Mario, and you're sick of everyone's shit." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was company regulation that I had to wear a name tag during work hours. I am a plumber. I came from Italy. My name is Mario. Needless to say, my life is hell and I'm not a big fan of Nintendo either.\n\nI worked this job for ten years. That's ten years of strangers telling me to jump, or telling me to say 'It's-a-me, Mario!', or telling me not to eat the mushrooms in their kitchen. I tried everything to get the jokes to stop. I even shaved off my mustache! But it was no use. When people encounter a plumber named Mario, absolutely nothing will stop them from cracking one of a hundred tired jokes that I've heard tens of thousands of times before until I feel the almost overwhelming urge to ram my toolbox up their pipeline.\n\nI am a very patient man, but enough was enough. I was sick of everyone's cheap jokes. It was time for some payback.\n\nI bought a plane ticket to Japan to confront the cause of my suffering. The man who started it all. The man who ruined my life with his stupid little video game character. Shigeru Miyamoto.\n\n'Nice house,' I had to grudgingly admit when I finally found his place.\n\nI stampeded up to his front door. I balled my fists and hammered the door. Then I waited. I had contemplated what I was going to do on the flight over here. Nothing would stop me. Just as everyone in my life had been unable to resist the temptation to make jokes at my expense, I decided to show no restraint in beating the shit out of Shigeru with a plumbing pipe. Sweet justice.\n\nHe was taking too long. I hammered my fist on the door again. It opened. Shigeru Miyamoto stood there in bright yellow pokemon pajamas.\n\n'YOU!' I shouted, raising my pipe. 'You like plumbers, do ya? Well you've got one!'\n\n'You're him!' Shigeru blurted.\n\nI hesitated. 'What?'\n\n'You are the man I have been waiting for!' Shigeru laughed. He took a step back and invited me inside with open arms. 'I have been waiting for a man such as you to arrive.'\n\nI was disarmed by his suddenly cheerful face. I stepped inside.\n\n'You look just like him,' Shigeru said.\n\n'Like who?'\n\n'Mario, of course!'\n\nMy anger flared. 'Listen fuckface - '\n\n'How would you like to star in my new Mario video game for the upcoming Gamecube 2 console?'\n\n'How would you like to eat my ... wait, what?'\n\n'Yes, I am designing the next generation of Mario games. The old Mario is old and overdone. To keep the franchise alive I've had to think outside the box. I've decided to take Mario into a new direction. Less colour, less fun; more gritty realism, blood, and guns.'\n\n'What are you talking about?' I asked, setting my murderous impulses aside for the moment.\n\n'Our new Mario games will feature photo-realistic graphics and mo-capped characters. I've been searching for someone to fill the role of Mario. You're it! You look just like him.'\n\nI felt the mustache that I had grown on the flight over (my facial hair grows fast). I was also wearing my blue plumbing overalls and a red hat that I was fond of. The pipe in my hand must have sealed the deal.\n\n'Do you want to take the part?' Shigeru asked. 'I'll make you rich. Richer than you can imagine.'\n\n'One sec,' I said. 'Let me call my boss.' I pulled my phone from my pocket and called my boss. 'Oh, hey boss! It's-a-me, Mario! And guess what? I quit! Yeah, that's right. Fuck you.' I hung up before he could respond.\n\nI turned to Shigeru and smiled. 'I humbly accept the part. So ... rich, you say?'\n\nShigeru nodded. 'Oh yes, very rich indee - '\n\nA man appeared at the door. He was wearing a police uniform. 'Is there a problem?' he asked Shigeru.\n\nShigeru ran to him. 'Help me! This crazy man is trying to beat me with a pipe!'\n\nA column of police officers charged into the house and tackled me to the ground. I could distinctly hear the Mario death tune playing in his head as the police officers piled on top of him and locked the cuffs around his wrists." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You're locked in a prison. Some inmates try to harm you. The thing is, they have no idea who they're messing with." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Pat Conroy died?” I spat incredulously at some nondescript people at a nondescript party.\n\n“Who’s Pat Conroy?”\n\nI sighed heavily, peering around the room. Baton Rouge just didn’t have the lustre it did a few years (or was it decades?) ago. It had been far too long since I last reset, and I hadn’t done a prison sentence in some time. Just a few months should do nicely.\n\nI burst out the front door in a huff, tossing my Hugo Boss tuxedo jacket on the perfectly manicured front lawn. The acne-faced valet spotted me and darted down the hill to retrieve my car. I suppose that tip I handed him earlier was larger than I even realized. Quite frankly I didn’t often keep track of how much American money I had on me, simply because it was so easy to come by.\n\nMoments later he pulled up in my Ferrari, or Lamborghini, whatever it was. I removed every dollar from my wallet and handed it to him in a heap. He stared at me wide-eyed and I smiled back, slinking into the car.\n\nEighteen miles later my car sputtered to a slow roll with the sirens wailing behind me. Before I came to a stop, I removed a bottle of Knob Creek I kept in a bag on the passenger seat. American bourbon was such a delight, and as the officer approached the window I made sure to take a hearty drink right from the bottle in plain sight.\n\nAt the station a bull-like, sloppily-mustached man entered the room in plain clothing.\n\n“Mr. Bo-Dan?”\n\n“Boudin.”\n\n“Mr. Bo-Dan, yessir. I’m here holdin’ Officer Dunn’s report here. He said you corroborated every word of it and you went on and de-clined an attorney, is that correct?”\n\n“Indeed. Do you happen to have my bourbon?”\n\nThe man stared disbelievingly, mulling over his papers.\n\n“Mr. Bo-Dan you’re in custody, I can’t give you back your whiskey.”\n\n“Perfectly understandable.”\n\n“So you’re going to spend the night in lock-up here, y’understand?”\n\n“Indeed I do.”\n\n“And the judge ain’t gonna be none too thrilled with some foreigner doin’ a hundred and fifty mile-n-hour under the in-fluence in his county.”\n\nI nodded happily.\n\nA few weeks later I sat in my cell with my stack of Pat Conroy books before me. It had been ages, perhaps centuries, since the last time I spent a little time in prison. And this particular facility was far more lavish than my time in Spain…or was it Portugal? No matter. What I found over the years was that there was no place more suited to taking in massive amounts of literature than in prison. In a way, it was a place where I could engross myself completely in the pages, and often helped me to forge out what my next identity would be. It would help me to select a place to live, a career to pursue and a lifestyle to lead. It was my reset. It wasn’t my only reset, but it was one. And this one suited me quite nicely.\n\nThe inappropriately loud buzzer interrupted me in my thoughts and my cell door swung open. It was time to eat. I had to keep up that particular illusion, which was particularly taxing given the meal selection here. I exited the cell, lined up, and walked to the cafeteria.\n\nOatmeal. Again. I toyed with it a bit before putting the first spoonful in my mouth. I regretted it instantly. I peered around quickly to see if anyone was watching me, and made the unfortunate mistake of making eye contact with one brusque-looking gentleman who frowned as we did. I darted my eyes back towards my bowl, but I already knew.\n\n“Whatchu lookin’ at?”\n\n“Nothing. Apologies.”\n\nThe man laughed, exposing a mouth merely half-full of teeth.\n\n“Y’all hear that? Old white-hair here knows dem fancy words! He apologized!”\n\nI stared at my oatmeal, hoping I was wrong. Hoping this would pass.\n\n“White-hair, I asked you what the fuck you was lookin’ at.”\n\nNow was the moment. I could simply let him strike me and hope the guards pulled him off in time, or I could strike first. I didn’t particularly want to stay here longer than another month, but even now, even after all this time, my lust for blood would take hold if provoked. I knew that. My studies as a Monk confirmed that centuries ago. I opted for the former. And hoped.\n\nThe crack of his knuckles against my skull sounded like stepping on a half-frozen ice pond. My head twisted erratically taking the rest of me down with it. It hurt. As the fangs sprung forth from my mouth and I pounced upon him like a tiger, ripping at his neck in a geyser of blood, I knew this particular reset would take a bit longer than I anticipated." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: In a world with superpowers, people with steriotypically \"evil\" abilities are treated terribly by the public. You run a help group for these people." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The church basement had cheap linoleum tiles and was lit by harsh fluorescent lights, but at least it was warm during the winter. Reverend Jacobs was more understanding than most of his fellows, and quietly handed over the keys every Friday with the minimum of fuss. All he asked in return was to keep the property damage to a minimum, a little joke that he somehow never got tired of every week.\n\nI took a sip of the coffee I’d brewed myself as I scrolled through the news on my phone. The usual blood, misery and stupidity around the world held little fascination for me. Neither were the news closer to home. The top story in the local paper was about old Mrs Figgins, and how she'd broken her hip slipping in her driveway. I made a note to drop in on her when she recovered enough to go back home.\n\nThe door opened, and a woman walked in. Annette was perhaps a couple of years older than I was, at most, but she bore the look of someone who's lived ten lives in one. Her eyes met mine and darted away instinctively, before coming back. I gave her a big smile, and was rewarded with a shy one in return.\n\nAnnette was one of my successes, if you'll allow the indulgence. She'd come in one day, at the end of her tether and with very little hope. Today she was much, much better, and had even begun helping others. That's when I knew she was going to make it.\n\n\"Hi Annie. Coffee?\"\n\n\"Y-yes,\" she said. I handed her a mug. Plastic, never paper or anything organic. I'd seen what happened when someone bumped into her while she was putting on her gloves, and she'd laid a bare hand on a nice corner table made of wood. The entire thing dissolved in minutes.\n\nShe took the mug from me and wrapped both hands around it, savouring the warmth. A bit of colour returned to her cheeks. Annette and I rarely talked much in these few minutes before the session officially started, but she made it a point to come in early anyway. Silently, and without prompting, she helped me lay out the (metal) chairs in a rough circle in the middle of the room. There weren’t that many.\n\nMore people began to file in, hanging up their clothes and accepting cups of coffee. Some looked entirely human, no different than the average man or woman you pass by on the street. Others, like Mr Chandra, could not hide as easily. One clawed hand gripped his special mug while he picked a stray scale from his arm.\n\nSome said hi, others preferred to stay in a corner and not talk to anyone. I didn’t mind. I didn’t insist that everyone had to talk, unlike other groups. Sometimes it was more important that they had a place where they could feel safe doing nothing, with nothing expected of them.\n\nWhen the room was more or less full, I cleared my throat and sat down in a chair, the signal to begin. Everyone followed suit.\n\n“Welcome back everyone, it’s good to see you.” Various greetings in response. Most smiled, however.\n\n“I’d like to start by recounting something I did that I’d never done before. Something new. We talked about this last week, the importance of not getting trapped in a rut. Accomplishing something, even the most minor task, could be important in helping you see things in a different light.”\n\nI started with something small, telling the group all about how a few months ago, I’d borrowed a fishing rod from a friend and drove up to the lake to try my hand at fishing. I’d never actually done it before, and I got a few chuckles as I described how slippery the bait was and how boring the wait was.\n\n“Did you like it?” asked Mrs Fong, one brilliant blue eye shining brightly.\n\n“No, I hated it,” I deadpanned, getting a laugh. “But that wasn’t important. What was important was doing something new. And I learned I don’t care for fishing. That’s pretty important.”\n\nWith the group warmed up, they started exchanging stories of their own. Mr Kirkpatrick had gone horse-riding. Jenny-Lynn had cooked a nice paella for her family. Even Mr Chandra talked about how he’d gone to watch a movie.\n\n“Luckily it was Halloween season,” he quipped. “The ticket boy thought I was in costume.”\n\nWhen everyone had stopped laughing, I looked over at Annette. She hadn’t spoken yet.\n\n“Annette, how about you?”\n\nBut she just shook her head. I was a little disappointed, but it was best not to push such things.\n\n“That’s alright, maybe next week,” I said.\n\nThey were the ones who were marked from the moment of their birth. Scientists, even the mad ones, were still no closer to discovering what effects the super-powered gene would have on different individuals. As far as they could tell, it was entirely at random. One baby would have flight and super strength, and be hailed as a hero. Another would have the power to speak to corpses, and be ostracised for life.\n\nMembers of the second group had trouble finding jobs, housing, or even decent medical care. They lived shorter lives and suffered more from mental illnesses. It was so easy to snap and go supervillain, declare war on the world that had shunned you for who you were.\n\nBut most were peaceful folk who just wanted to live their lives. They were the ones who suffered when some poor traumatised kid snapped and started terrorising neighbourhoods. When order was finally restored, they got the blame. Why didn't they tell the authorities? Were they hiding anything else?\n\nI watched Mr Kirkpatrick tell a story from work. I was glad he found a job, there wasn't much call for a man who could summon cockroaches within a fifty mile radius. He had been beaten up by three speedsters just the other week, CCTV too slow to catch a glimpse of their faces. There was still a bruise on one eye.\n\nThe key thing, the crucial thing, was to remind them that they still had worth, that despite how bleak it seemed, they could still make a difference. Mrs Fong was a great example. Her supernatural eye could see demons, but she somehow made the most of it by selling real estate. Her clients got all the best houses while she offloaded the haunted ones to her rivals." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: One does not simply kidnap Gaia from humanity and expect humanity to not strike back." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hades raised his glass, as he looked around his banquet hall. A smile, wide and cruel, played on his lips. His eyes flashed above, to the steel cage which held his great prize. There lay a small child wrapped in dark green leaves, wrapped herself in a ball. Yellow eyes, filled with hate, stared down on Hades. A chill went through his body though he hide it well.\n\n“Finally,” he growled, now looking out at his guests. Servants came and went, filling goblets of wine and picking up finished dishes. Charon, sat to his right, his oar strapped to his back while steam rose from his head. Achilles, large and muscular, sat tied to the chair at the far end of the table, long since given up trying to escape. Hades' wife, Persephone, sat quietly to his left. Her eyes watched every guest with contempt. “Finally, we have achieved what we set out all those years to achieve. Finally, my friends…” Hades stopped as Persephone let out a giggle. Her eyes swept up to her husband, beaming brightly.\n\n“Something to say, dear Persephone?” Hades inquired with a droll, rolling his eyes as he loomed over her.\n\n“Since when did you get friends?” she smiled, sipping on the blood-red wine that now permanently stained her lips. With a shake of his head, Hades turned back to the feast, standing a little less tall this time.\n\n“As I was saying…” he began before another voice interrupted him. A roar came from the back of the hall.\n\n“Thunder!” the voice shouted. Hades stood, confusion spread across his face. Then, another voice replied to the first.\n\n“Lightning!” a different voice shouted. Charon stood, set to move towards the noise only to stop in his tracks. An explosion, small but loud, came from the back of the hall. Persephone left. Slipping through a hidden side door of the hall, she left her husband and his friends to deal with the rabble. Smoke billowed, hiding the shadows that moved behind it. Then, as the hall door fell to the floor, a dozen men, stormed through, assault rifles pointing in every direction.\n\n“Go! Go! Go!!” the first one shouted, throwing something at the feet of the banquet goers. “Find the target!”\n\n“What is the meaning of…” Hades started but before he could finish, a flashbang exploded at his feet. The guests screamed, trying to cover their eyes in vain. Hades blinded, and swiped at the air, his fingernails like knives. One of the marines, pulled from his back pocket, a blade. Like his life depended on it, he started to untie Achilles.\n\nAll the while, the girl above looked through the steel bars, her eyes dancing like a fire, so focused on the fight.\n\n“Above!” another Marine shouted. Another flashbang was thrown, this time landed on the table. Hades though had just recovered from the first one. He swiped like a lion, nearly decapitating one of the marines. Blood poured from the claw marks as the man tried to hold his neck together in vain. Collapsing, the last thing he saw and heard was the flashbang.\n\n“Damn it!” Hades screamed out. “Charon, Persephone! Do something!” Charon could only scream out, swinging widely with his oar, hitting nothing. Persephone now peered into the room from a hidden window, delighting in the embarrassment of Hades. The marines had thrown a satchel at the girl above. Peering inside, she looked back down at the marines, confused.\n\n“Throw it on the roof!” they shouted up. Pushing it up through the bars, she pushed away from it then, guessing what way this was about to go. She had known the humans for a long time and knew how they liked to solve their problems. A single bullet was fired, hitting the satchel. Another small explosion rang out through the hall. Smoke clouded the cage. The squealing of metal scraping metal was all that could be heard. Then, through the smoke, the cage crashed down, through the table. Goblets of wine and burnt, blackened dishes flew through the air, scattering across the underworld floor. The girl, relatively unfazed, climbed through the wreckage, into the arms of a marine. Fire poured from Hades eyes. His hands were now aflame and his shadow grew larger and larger until he seemed to be the size of the hall.\n\n“Enough of these games!” he screamed, the red and yellow fire, turning blue as his voice echoed through the room. “Enough of your silly human tricks, this ends now!” His eyes, too focused on the girl, didn’t see the newly freed hero creeping up beside him, knife in hand.\n\n“For Patroclus!” Achilles screamed, tearing through Hades' foot with his knife. The Lord of the Underworld crumpled, falling to the fall. As soon as his knee’s his the ground, the marines saw their chance.\n\n“Roll out!” one shouted. Then, as one, the men escaped through the still smoking hallway, the girl in tow with Achilles on their heels.\n\n“I’ll get you, Gaia,” Hades shouted after them. “One of these days! You’ll see!”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You're a trainer and sparring partner for superhero recruits. Your latest client is a bright and peppy young girl with fluffy animal ears and a big fancy hat. Her magic is phenomenally powerful, but she's just too friendly and jovial to ever be a proper crime-fighter." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The man in an almost military uniform paced back and forth, his hands clenched behind his back as he strode the twenty feet or so, turned and stalked back. He refused to look to the center of the practice dome. He could hear her, the magic was buzzing and her laughter… Her LAUGHTER was getting on his nerves. He heard a series of soft ‘plops’ and looked. And gritted his teeth.\n\nShe had chosen right then to materialize bunnies.\n\nThe loose work-out sweats hung from her, her slightly floppy ears hanging straight down as she held onto the swinging bar with one knee. How her little top hat did not fall was an incidental thought through the controlled rage The Sarge kept right below the surface. He watched as she created another bunny, the pastel blue on this one having a small glitter to it as it rolled in the air a few feet and then landed on top of several of the others she had made.\n\n“Linda. Stop that.” His voice was monotone, and other recruits would have obeyed him instantly. She looked at him and swirled her fingers to make a small patch of grass and flowers right under his feet. And she giggled. The Sarge closed his eyes and counted.\n\nHe heard a squeak of wood and metal and looked back to his trainee. She had landed on the ground on one knee, standing as his eyes opened on her. The ears flopped a little at the tips and the hair that had been fringing down around the hat obscured her face. The sweats were really too big for her, but with how she moved around, getting her into something tighter had been impossible. One of her shoulders was out of the neck hole of the shirt, and The Sarge had a little pang of guilt having to try to toughen this kid up.\n\n“Sarge? Don’t be mad.” She pulled at the shirt and tried to get the hair out of her face. That face was full of innocence and big eyes looking at him. He could see her emotions running through her, another pang of guilt for having to push this-\n\nHe took a deep breath and called out, “Program Three.”\n\nHer eyes got bigger and she waived her hands, moving the bunnies into a space that suddenly had an iridescent bubble over it. She hardly had time to move before a bolt of electricity come from one of the multi-canons in the edge of the room. It hit her, knocking her down and into some of the standing equipment. There was a grunt and another bolt of electricity that threw her in another direction.\n\nThe Sarge stepped out from behind the protective fence, but saw that she was still moving. His eye went to the bunnies and saw the bubble start to waiver. He usually didn’t help too much when he was in the training dome, but he saw that her pain was draining the defense she had put up.\n\n“Protect the bunnies!”\n\nHer head popped up and there was a motion to her hand, a viscus liquid magic coming from her towards the bunnies. It hit the bubble, breaking it, but forming a solid containment over the little pastel bunnies.\n\nHe had not stepped back behind the protective barrier, and that was a mistake. He was tough, and his telekinesis usually could save him from most impacts, but the energy that went through him from the multi-canon was too much for him and he went down.\n\nHe was not out, even though it hurt to breathe. He heard a gasp and a “No!” above the buzzing that was suddenly in his ears.\n\nHis eyes were clouded with a red haze and he could almost hear. What he did hear was a cracking of metal and concrete, the smell of ozone and molten titanium alloy sharp in his nose. And then the pressure of an explosion knocked him out.\n\nSomething was moving on him and tickling him. His face had something soft brush against it and he went to move it with a hand, a soft fluffy thing making a little squeak when he touched it. His eyes opened a little and he found he was in a glowing bubble, the bunnies cuddling in with him. The sight of the soft rainbow colored fluff balls made him smile, but also made his head hurt more.\n\nA crack appeared in the glow around him. The smell of destruction came to him and he tried to move, but the area was too small to do more than turn onto his side. There was pain up the inside of his leg as he tried to move it.\n\nThe glow stuff around him and the bunnies seemed to shatter and disappear. He first could not focus, but saw the worried look on Lindas face, and then the medics that were coming up behind her. She lifted the bunnies off of him with the magic and held several to her chest. She only backed off a little and stayed at his side as he was lifted onto a gurney.\n\nHe looked up into the afternoon sky. And blinked. That was ten feet of reinforced concrete. Had been ten feet of reinforced concrete.\n\n“I’m so sorry Sargent!”\n\nHe cleared his throat and whispered out, “Take the rest of the day off.” He heard a nervous giggle. “We have to work on that control, Linda.”\n\nBefore she was blocked from following him into the medical facilities, a bright green bunny was placed on The Sargent’s chest, a feeling of peace coming over him as he held it to him. His mind was filling with a loud surf noise as he felt the medics start to cut his clothing off. The soft push of the bunnies nose into his cheek told him he was going to be o.k.." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: It's been years since the collapse, but you've managed to get the electricity AND the internet connection back up and running. Eager to get online and play for the first time in ages, you have to do a double-take when you see that there are other players online as well." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When the zombies had first attacked, the whole city had gone up in flames. Frankly, it wouldn't have been a problem if it had only taken less time for it to be obvious what was going on; scratches and bites got you infected, but people steadily became more agressive as their brain decayed, more eager to bite or scratch... and often infected quite a few people before truly turning all the way.\n\nThe first three months were death and chaos. The power went out, the national guard had showed up and, after getting infected, mostly killed each other. We lost all contact with the rest of the world after a while; but what we did see was more of the same; cities buried in their own dead, eating each other.\n\nJason was a loner. He and a few 'friends' worked together to clear their apartment building of zombies, and lock things up securely; and went out together to scavenge for food and supplies. They got a generator early on; but ran out of fuel. Then Jason started to collect solar panels and slowly wire together a battery system. But otherwise, mostly just stayed in their own rooms. As the months went by, the group got larger, until, by the end of the second year, there were about thirty people living in the building... and Jason finally managed to get enough working pieces together to build his own cell tower. He wasn't sure what would happen; some nights, he'd look out from the roof and see lights scattered outside the city. More survivors. He didn't expect much help; everyone was likely in the same boat.\n\nHe'd actually been able to play a few games... with headphones, to stay quiet, of course... for the past few weeks. Some of the other survivors thought he was a lunatic, playing games instead of working to help survive; but he'd built the system that gave them light throughout the building, so they left him be.\n\nWhen he started up the tower, his game connected to an online lobby... and showed at least a dozen other players inside. His first comment at looking around. \"Wow. I didn't think I'd find many others wasting as much time as me during an apocalypse. Where are you guys holed up?\" The first response was a touch startling.\n\n\"Hah, hah. Yeah, sure. Apocalypse. What, you one of those 'role-player' sorts? This is just a shooter server man, isn't really that popular since the new version came out a few months ago. They really nailed the zombie aesthetic on it.\"\n\n\nJason shut the game down immediately. And opened up google. Checked the news. And... it was about the upcoming mid-term elections. After a thorough web search to find out what was going on, he learned that while the east coast, and a few other highly populated areas around the world had been hit hard by the zombies, and were very slowly being cleaned up, in a project that might take years.... for most of the world it had been a 3-day weekend. In some more rural areas, the only reason people noticed it had happened was due to issues shipping merchandise in... and local factories starting to re-open." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Your plan to pop forward in time a day to get the winning number to the record-breaking lottery jackpot has unintended consequences" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Those idiots at the University had no idea. They had tossed him out on his ear, scoffing that a man who lacked even a degree had unlocked the impossibility of time travel. At first his reaction was typical, “I’ll show them. I’ll show everybody!” Spurned by the scientific community he had loved so dearly from afar, revenge was the first notion, but soon after he did what he did best: He thought about it.\n\nRevenge would serve no one, why show them? Why show anybody? He had tried to enrich the world, now he would enrich himself! And what fool would travel back to some dark age to set themselves up as a God, when one could buy Godhood in the here and now much easier? All you needed was the right amount of money.\n\nThe giggle that left his mouth was more than a little unsettling as he stepped from the ‘machine.’ It wasn’t a machine at all, that was why no one had figured it out. Time travel was only possible at the right place and, of course, the right time. Combining those two needed parts at precisely the right moment was impossible if one tried to hop aboard a natural gateway, but he had unlocked the secret of creating one at a designated point and time. There wasn’t a single working part in the whole damn scheme, it was all in bringing the right objects to the right...it didn’t matter. It was partly why they called him mad, to say a string of asprin and copper wire with bits of calcium and other oddities when laid in the proper order on a bed of salt would create a temporal gate was hard for anyone to swallow.\n\nIt was one day in the future, farther than he’d ever gone forward, but his theory that the all-consuming paradox was impossible had held true. He didn’t meet himself here, the universe had not yet imploded. He allowed himself another nervous twitter of laughter when he flicked on the TV, a primal part of his mind expecting that simple interaction to somehow bring it all crashing down on him, but the fear was baseless, and he grabbed pen and paper to write down the winning lotto numbers.\n\n“Shove me out of the scientific community? We’ll see. I’ll buy that damn university and everyone in it. New dress code, Professor Elsman must wear my ass on his lips between the hours of twelve and four o’clock.” With such petty evil burning up the already heavily occupied mind of a genius it was little wonder that he didn’t hear the door open. He didn’t see his ‘understudy’, the boy who had given up his own schooling to assist his great works. The boy who had, like him, lost all credibility only a day before. He didn’t see him, or the snub nosed revolver in his hand, but he heard the bang, like firecrackers, that sharp sound cutting into his thoughts over and over, until it ended with a click and the sound of the boy spitting.\n\nHe fell over, pain and red blooming over his shirt as he lay dying. Was this the truth of it, then? Was this how time balanced itself out? Would any who traveled this way die a victim of some circumstance? Or was he just collecting his comeuppance? The light faded from his eyes, that astonished and hurt expression going slack…\n\nIt was one day in the future, farther than he’d ever gone forward. He’d been here so long, deep inside the mind of a man unaware. He tried to warn him, screamed out from the inside to go back! Go back! But each time it ended the same. The boy, the gun, and the final thoughts of a genius, consumed by petty evil. Again from the ‘machine’ again, and again, and again. It hurt just as bad each time." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You discover an ancient tome on your farm in a language you've never seen before but can mysteriously read. It speaks of a demonic race and the end of times. Soon after, your daughter finds an abandoned newborn with a symbol on his chest that matches the one on the cover of the book." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lynette was nursing when her father and some of his new followers showed up in the doorway of her room. Jax was full and happy – he was always such a happy baby – but she took her time buttoning up her shirt anyway, staring down the intruders. They looked away, some muttering.\n\n“Yes?” she said in her sweetest voice.\n\n“You know it’s time, honey,” her father said.\n\n“Time for what, daddy?” she asked, still making herself sound sweet as she stroked Jax on the back.\n\nSam Senior’s face shifted, but before he could settle on an answer, Pat Haroldson spoke up next to him. “We’re here for the baby, Lynette.”\n\n“My baby?” she asked. She wanted to make them say it. She heard the quiver in her voice, and tried to will it away. She was a mother now. She had to be strong.\n\n“It’s not your baby, honey,” her father said, like he was trying to reason with her. “You found him.”\n\n“We know where it came from,” added Pat. “It's marked.”\n\n“Because he has a birthmark-” Lynette started.\n\n“That’s no birthmark-” John McKidder cut in. He started to push forward, but Sam Senior put a hand out to stop him. They were like a mob, pressed in close against her open door, and her father at the head of them.\n\n“You’ve taken good care of him,” her father said. “I can see that. And now it’s time for you to let him go.”\n\n“No,” said Lynette, and now she felt the steel in her voice. “He’s my baby.”\n\n“Everyone knows you weren’t pregnant,” interjected Eva Haroldson, Pat’s daughter.\n\n“He nurses from me, Eva, wanna see?” Lynette challenged her. She felt tears sting her eyes. Eva had been her best friend, until two weeks ago.\n\n“That’s not natural,” said John McKidder.\n\n“It’s a miracle,” Lynette snapped. “It seems our place’s been blessed with them.”\n\nThat made her father scowl. “I didn’t ask for this burden.”\n\n“Nobody’s forcing you.”\n\nHer father took a step forward. He was out of the doorframe now, leaving room for his followers to follow in behind him. Lynette pulled Jax close to her and took a step back, and felt her bed against the back of her calf.\n\nThere was a rumble outside, and a light came in through the window, so bright it made Lynette and her father both wince.\n\nShe squinted, and could make out the shape of a familiar oversized pickup truck parked all the way up the lawn, way too close to the house.\n\nA silhouette blocked the light, and then the glass of the bedroom window smashed. Jax started crying, and Lynette turned to shield him. Someone was pointing a shotgun into the room – pointing it at Sam Senior. Someone else climbed through the window. Lynette recognized the Pastor twins before she could make out which was which. It was Petra climbing through the window while Pete covered her with his shotgun.\n\n“This is beyond trespassing, kids,” Sam Senior said to them, but he was raising his hands. John was taking a step back as Pete swung the shogun around, and Pat put a protective hand in front of Eva.\n\n“Better call our parents,” said Petra. “Lynette, you and Jax need a lift?”\n\nLynette was crying now, full-on crying, in fear, in shock, in relief at the unexpected rescue. Pete warned the others to stay back while Petra climbed back through the window, then took Jax so Lynette could climb too.\n\n“You’re making a mistake!” her father called once she was on the other side, and she didn’t know if he was talking to the twins or to her.\n\n“How did you know to come?” Lynette asked once she was safely in the truck, she and Jax wedged between Petra driving, Pete riding shotgun with the actual shotgun between his knees. The dirt road bumped, but Jax didn’t seem to mind. He was such a happy baby.\n\n“You’re not gonna believe us,” said Pete.\n\n“Call it a miracle,” said Petra." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A man awakens with intense headache and backpain and a blank memory. He looks around, finding himself locked in a garage with 3 people hanging from the ceiling, dead. A fourth rope is snapped, and the knot is around his own neck. He tries to find a way to escape the garage." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A quick scan around the room begins to inform the stranger about his whereabouts. He doesn't fully understand the items he's looking at, or his surroundings but there is an air of familiarity to it all. He can't remember why or how, but he's been here before, plenty often. The smell of oil, sweat and steel is a significant clue. Smells are a potent trigger for memory and this all smells so familiar, yet just out of reach. Except for the bloated, stained corpses, those smell awful and by the looks of it, they've been there for quite some time.\n\nHe looks up at the rafters, seeing where his rope snapped and says a silent prayer of gratitude to whatever circumstances caused it to fail so fortuitously for himself. Not recognizing the others, he hopes they went peacefully, though the tear stains streaming down their faces tells otherwise. 'She looks like she may have once been so very beautiful.' he thinks to himself as he stares at the female corpse staring down tragically at him lying there on the ground.\n\nSNAP! His knee buckles underneath him as he tries to stand. 'That doesn't sound or feel at all good', he thinks to himself as he falls back down to the cold, oil stained ground. He decides to sit and gather his thoughts a bit more before he tries to stand up again. Not that he has much choice in the matter at this point.\n\n'What the hell is going on?' he mutters anxiously. 'Why can't I remember anything?' That's when he feels a warm, wet spot on the back of his head. He reaches back there, grazing it gently with his fingers to feel a sharp pain and a squishy, shattered sensation. His fingers come back to his eyes to reveal streaks of thick blood coursing from his fingers down his palm. Blood, he remembers seeing blood before. Recently and a lot more of it than what's dripping from his fingers currently. 'Blood everywhere.'\n\nThe memory is a strange, miraculous thing sometimes. A zoetrope-like sensation of memories as images begin to carousel through his mind with little concern for logic or relevance. He sees images of death, hundreds of bodies lying prostrate in the suburban streets of Anywheresville, USA. Flashes of broadcasts showing military forces raining bullets on what appear to be civilians, though the stumbling gait and mindless wanderings indicate something else... something horrifically worse. Another flash of a group of people screaming, begging for safe entry into a home; HIS home! A concerned family; two young boys and a scared, compassionate women looking to him for guidance, to know what to do, to have all the answers and to keep them safe.\n\n\"What do we do, Dad?! I'm scared and they won't stop screaming!\" He remembers that last sentence so vividly now, the fear warbling in his son's voice. He remembers reaching for the doorknob and looking back at his wife for reassurance, before opening the door to let the unknown in, if only to quiet the small mob that's gathered to avoid bringing any further attention to the family house. The memory of his wife's fearful look is what does it; opens up the floodgates to a full, horrific recall of the apocalyptic events and tragic circumstances he's awakened into.\n\nIt all got so much worse, so rapidly after that. 'I should have never opened that damn door' he mutters to himself mournfully as he drags the length of rope and himself to the locked door of the garage.\n\n'I'll be home for dinner, honey.' he says to himself through choked back tears, as he slips the rope once again round his neck, feeling the familiar scratch and ties the end just taught enough around the doorknob.\n\n'I'll be home just in time, dear...' as he slumps himself down, pulling the rope down tight with him." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Everyone knows the stories and jokes about cockroaches taking over the world after the nuclear apocalypse. But when you left the bunker you were very surprised to find that they had not just \"taken over\", but even built a bronze age society that now worships you as a god." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I sat up from my chamber and heaved from the fluid coming out of my lungs. My brain wasn’t quite processing what was happening yet. I was too preoccupied with the fact I felt like I was being waterboarded.\n\nAfter what felt like gallons of the viscous liquid exiting my body, I got a wheezing gasp in. Air attempted to fill the crevices it could find through the liquid, finding space in my lungs.\n\n“Deep breaths.” Was all I could tell myself as I switched between wheezing and coughing, getting the final liquid out that rested at the very bottom of my chest. Sitting there only having small droplets pepper the air each cough I finally started being able to think.\n\nI was awake. Okay. What does that mean again? My mind was foggy. Really, really foggy. That… that was normal. Yeah. It was. The instructions no, directions for usage. Shit. No. The caution warnings had that on there. Something about after waking up, I’d be foggy, my body would hurt and their might be confusion for a bit.\n\nGod damnit. Now that I was a little more awake I could feel that gel in every crevice of my body. It was dripping from my face and I had to keep blinking it out of my eyes. I needed to shower.\n\nForget showering. I needed to get back on track. Again, I’m awake. That means it had been 200? No 300 years. Alright. I need to reset the machine, make sure if I have to go back in it’ll be fine.\n\nI threw a leg over the side and went to stand up but shifting my weight I just collapsed. I felt like a freakin baby deer.\n\nSlowly I got on all fours, brought a leg forward and pressed one it with one of my arms to finally get on my feet. Using my bodyweight I slapped the screen to prep the machine again.\n\nI stumbled into the my bathroom and checked the electronic clock. Month, Day, Year, Time. 6/24/2486, 13:23.\n\n300 years to the second depending on how long I was hacking up a lung. Impressive.\n\nThe shower felt nice. It was a little reset, going through my whole routine helped me clear my head. Where I was, my next steps, what ifs. So many what ifs.\n\nI got dressed, grabbed my firearms, compass, some rations and every other preplanned piece I had planned before entering my stasis.\n\nHeading up the stairs, the cement walls weren’t as smooth as I remembered. Between shock and time cracks developed all around. Some of them a large dog could have even gotten through. But it seemed like they had been filled in with dirt. It shouldn’t have let radiation in but who knows. Maybe it came after.\n\nGetting to the door, I slammed a metal piece to the side revealing a small window to give me a glimpse into the world. It was a forest, trees, grass, a stream which was new to me… “So far so good.” I mumbled.\n\nDoing a final reading on the curies and seeing the safe numbers I opened the door and took my first step into the new world. The air smelled… pure. Of all the speculations? This wasn’t it. It was great. I could hear birds. Wind rustled leaves, it was calm.\n\nI had to bushwack at certain points with how thick it was. But it seemed like I was following a path that was only from about my waist height down. Probably a creature trail. I decided it was best to follow that. It seemed as though it would never end. It’s a forest. Where was I even going. I never thought about this before I went under…a smell stopped my thoughts. My sense of smell was still not 100% but I’m positive I smelled it. Smoke.\n\nI felt the direction of the wind and followed it. Until I saw the smoke rising. A pale bluish. It was a controlled fire. Wildfires didn’t have that color smoke. As I approached, there was a cut an opening, the path underneath me somehow turning into a huge area.\n\nThere must have been human survivors. Grabbing my rifle I advanced trying to see what the situation was.\n\nI was even more confused the closer I got. There were houses but… small and primitive. Made of straw, clay and wood. I don’t understand. They were also small. Maybe humans somehow shrunk from radiation?\n\nMy boot was nudged, I jumped back, drawing my weapon and just stopped. Blinking hard I had no idea what I was looking at. They were… cockroaches? But the size of german shepards. Five of them. And they just looked at me. And raised up their legs waving side to side.\n\nI wanted to shoot but for some reason didn’t. It was unified. They were? Dancing? They hissed and screeched, if I didn’t know better they were talking to one another.\n\nI decided that I was going crazy and decided to keep and eye on them but go into the small village to see what was going on. Bad idea.\n\nThere were even more. They just followed me. All of them. They followed me. But some were clothed? Cockroach children seemed to be with parents. And weapons? Small spears were held between legs. What. The. Hell.\n\nI thought I had seen the pinnacle of oddness but there was a statue. Of me. In the chamber. It was a temple. For me? They danced around me and the statue. Wait. The holes in the walls. Had they found me?\n\nThe statue. The hissing and clicking rhythmically? The dancing? Was… was I their God? Well. I guess I lost the post apocalyptic scenario bingo." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: \"Are you friend or foe?\", he asked the stranger. \"That answer is entirely up to you.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ben sat at the roadside with two slices of spelt bread and a thick round of salted ham smeared in apple chutney. He had a fresh apple and a handful of almonds for afterwards, twisted up in the corner of his handkerchief, and a fresh metal canteen of water perspired quietly in the grass beside him. In his left hand he flipped the last coin of the King's Pay and silently guessed which side it would come down on. Half the time, he was right. Above him, the sun shone in a blue sky, and not even the dead hanged on the gallows that lined the grass verges could put him off his meal. Ben had seen enough of the dead, and now he paid them no mind.\n\nThe long, brown road rolled for leagues on either side of him. To the east lay the path he had walked; green gorse bushes clumped in patches on grass kept short by the sheep that dotted every acre. To the west lay the path he had yet to take; russet grass bobbing in the wind, rising into low hills that stretched as far as the eye could see.\n\nAnother traveller approached, walking from the east. He wore a cloak slung over his shoulder, the same faded blue as every other working man, and a tall stick in his right hand. Knobbled and twisted as a root, Ben could not tell what kind of tree it had been cut from. As he drew closer, Ben noticed the traveller's face, browned and lined from the sun, his grey beard and hair, and the bright blue eyes that concealed the man's true age.\n\n\"May I join you, friend?\" the stranger said. Ben looked at him longways. At his belt he had a sword, long out of use, but sharp enough if it happened to be needed.\n\n\"Are you friend or foe?\" he asked the stranger.\n\nThe stranger stood in front of him, leaning on his stick like a weary old man. His feet were dusty in open sandals, and marsh-mud spotted the bottom of his cloak.\n\n\"That answer is entirely up to you,\" the stranger replied. \"What harm can an old priest do to a young soldier?\"\n\nHe sat down beside Ben and retrieved from some fold of his cloak a clay pot. With his stick he cracked it open, pulling away the red shards. Inside, hot fish stew released steam and the traveller cradled it with both hands.\n\n\"May I trouble you for some bread?\" He asked. \"You may have some of this, it's very good. There's a woman who makes it in Gipswick, and I'm sure she uses real saffron.\"\n\nBen scowled. He held one hand on his sword.\n\n\"What do they call you, Grandfather?\" He asked. \"I'm not a soldier.\"\n\n\"No?\" the old man lifted an eyebrow in surprise. \"Well, Ben, most call me the Culdee Fray. Where are you headed?\"\n\nBen jumped to his feet and drew the sword. His hands, unused to it, wobbled at the hilt. \"Who sent you?\" He asked. \"Was it the Garrison? I won't let them find me!\"\n\n\"Sit down, Ben,\" the Culdee Fray replied. \"We'll finish the fish stew and your wonderful bread, and after that I'll explain the contents of the letter I need you to deliver. It needs a young man of just your talents, and I wager you'll want to do it once you've found what it's about.\"\n\nBen, gambler at heart, took his hands from his sword and sat down to share his meal with a stranger." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Children's logic dictates the way the world works." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“That’s not an option I’m currently willing to exercise.”\n\nI pinch the bridge of my nose to stave off the headache building behind my eyes. If this goes on much longer, I’m gonna have to start to start cutting back on the vegetables.\n\n“She’s dangerous, Jimmy. You know that. You’ve seen it. Dealt with it first hand. She just doesn’t play by anyone’s rules.”\n\nAli finished off her sucker and unwrapped a fresh one, offering it to me. I declined. I’d sworn off the things after my third cavity scare. That one saw me at the dentist for the third time in as many months. I don’t care what my dad says, I know that guy is evil. Who owns a drill like that? A murderer, that’s who. I still hear the damn thing in my nightmares.\n\nWhile she savored the smooth flavor of blue-raspberry, I pondered her words. We both knew she was right. The situation was spiralling out of control. The details of our latest reports flooded my mind, even as I sing songed a few La-La’s to block them out.\n\nOur perp is a wildcard and damn near untraceable. Hide and seek skills like none I’ve ever seen. In another life she might have made the perfect detective, but as it was, no one could trust her as far as they could throw her, and she always went limp.\n\nAlways.\n\nIt’s part of what made her so hard to bring in. Bringing backup was just plain unfair, and she was one of the fastest runners I’d ever had the displeasure of trying to chase down. She outran Andy Hadwell’s older brother, for Christ’s sake-- while he was wearing his new light-ups. He’d spiralled into a depression after that one. Beaten by a girl a full year his junior. He spent a lot of time at the guidance counselor over it.\n\nWe’d tried dogs, she brought treats. We’d offered candy, favors, hell even the department’s entire collection of action figures. Nothing. She had changed. Gone was the lovable, hyperactive runt we all used to know. She was too focused.\n\nFucking Vyvanse. I’ll get that shit off the street if it’s the last thing I do.\n\n“It’s the only option we have left.”\n\nAli’s voice pulled me out of my musings. I stared down at my sandwich. Ham and cheese. Crustless. Cut into triangles. Not a drop of mayo on it. I pushed it away in disgust before grabbing the sucker right out of Ali’s mouth and popping into mine.\n\n“What the hell, Jimmy? Are you outta your mind? You’re gonna be laid up for a week! We’ve gotta get you to a hospit--”\n\n“Jeez, relax.” I cut her off. “I had my boosters last week. You think I don’t get my shots regularly, working with you?”\n\n“Could have let someone know, asshole. I’m not losing another partner to Cooties.”\n\nShe was clearly distressed, and I immediately felt horrible. I blew a light raspberry to diffuse the tension.\n\n“Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry. Don’t be such a baby about it.”\n\nThe sullen pout on her blue-stained lips lingered, but she let it slide without further comment.\n\n“Anyway,” she continued, “it’s gotta be you. You’ve got a direct line on this one. You’ve got the credibility. We need you, Jimmy.”\n\nI looked down, still unsure. My own face stared back from the reflective faceplate of my phone.\n\n“What about the guys?” My raspy voice sounds broken, even to me. “What will they think of me? This is a slippery slope, Ali. Will they be able to trust me? Will I be able to trust myself?”\n\nShe reached across to take my hand in hers, and I looked around startled. No one seemed to be watching so I relaxed a bit.\n\n“Listen Jimmy, I didn’t want to do this but…,\" her grip tightened, \"I dare you to do it.”\n\n“Look, Ali, I just don’t think--”\n\n“I double-dog dare you.”\n\n“C’mon, think about what’s going to happen. Think about what kind of precedent this sets. You can’t--”\n\n“Fucking hell, Jimmy! I triple dog dare you!”\n\nBlood, rushing through my ears and the tinkle of dozens of dropped utensils. Every eye in the diner was now locked onto our table. I withdrew my shaky hand from Ali’s, no longer concerned in the slightest about who saw. I had eyes only for the phone in front of me as my body acted of its own volition.\n\n“F-fine” I managed to stutter out, “if this is what you really want. I’ll do it, but you’re taking care of the paperwork, and don’t think the Sheriff isn’t going to hear about this”\n\nAli daintily brushed a few stray crumbs off of her dress before carefully straightening her tiara.\n\n“It’s the burden of my station, Jimmy. It’s not all tea parties and being rescued by knights.”\n\nI ignore her, and pick up my phone from the table. Scrolling through my contacts, I try to think of a way out of this. Nothing. Pausing before I make the call, I look up one last time.\n\n“It’s days like these that I wish I’d stayed out in space, y’know. Fighting aliens is so much simpler than all of this.”\n\nBefore she has a chance to respond I return to the task at hand, tapping the contact and waiting for the line to connect. A few rings in and I’m almost hoping no one picks up, but I’m not that lucky.\n\n“Jimmy, is that you? Shouldn’t you be at work, honey? What’s wrong?”\n\nGod, I’m going to burn in hell for this.\n\n“Hey, mom. We’ve got to talk about Sarah, is dad around?”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: A depressed guy moves into a haunted house with 7 demons, each corresponding to a deadly sin. But they’re all trying to help him get back on his feet." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Steven moved into the house a week ago. The rent was cheep and it wasn't as though he deserved a nice place. No one else wanted to live there, so he took it. He had hoped that he’d at least be alone there—the seven roommates were not on the ad. He had not left his bed in the week since he moved in, not bothering to unpack. Why even bother?\n\nThe other occupants of the house were a cheerier lot, for all their horns and red eyes. Their body proportions and corporeality differed slightly amongst the demons. Gluttony’s overly large stomach dominated his form, while Lust had the most desirable physique of the lot when he was not fading into mist.\n\nThe seven of them were gathered in the living room, eyeing Steven’s door. They shared a look and nodded.\n\nPride was up first. He dug through Steven’s computer until he found his resumé. He printed it out and went to Steven’s room to confront him about it. The six other demons listened to him listing out accomplishments from the other side of the door. The laugh they heard was cold enough to rival Lucifer’s own. “Executive of Sales? I was an underpaid cashier and got fired after three weeks. Everything else was exaggerated, luck, or due to someone else’s help. The only things on the farce that were purely me ended in failure.” Steven pushed Pride from the room and slammed the door.\n\nGreed took a simpler route and tried to bribe Steven to come back into the world. He began with several hundred dollars and the promise of more. The human told him that throwing the money in the trash would be a better use for it. At least then a homeless man might find it. They deserved it more anyway.\n\nEnvy only made things worse. He actively encouraged Steven to compare himself to others. His attempt ended with the bedroom door barricaded for three days.\n\nNone of the other six demons knew how Lust did it, but he got Steven to leave the house. The pair were gone for three hours on Saturday evening. When they got back, Lust just shook his head.\n\n“What happened?” Pride asked.\n\n“A girl offered to take him home,” Lust said. “He told her that she didn’t want him—said something about it only leading to disappointment. When she kept pushing, he told he that he knew it was me and that I should stop trying. That wasn’t even the girl I was possessing!”\n\nGluttony tried to shower Steven in delicacies and exotic spices. He began with lobster and king crab, quickly progressing to caviar and Angus beef. He brought in hundred year old champagne and flavors from around the world. Steven rarely ate what was brought, and when he did, he barely seemed to taste it. The drink went over well, but did more harm than good. The other demons had to stop Gluttony from bringing any more into the house.\n\nWrath told Steven to find the person who put him in this state, whoever did this to him, and to confront him head on. To everyone’s surprise, Steven actually got out of bed for this. Their hope last only until he walked in front of the mirror and began screaming at his reflection about his worthlessness and how he only ever hurts people. He yelled that no one likes him and that they have no reason to. He kept yelling until his throat was ragged. He was openly weeping by the time he sunk down to the floor. The other demons glared daggers at Wrath.\n\nSloth took a different approach. The others had all tried to get Steven to do, or at least believe, something else. Sloth didn’t. Instead, he just went and sat down next to Steven, content to relax next to him. Steven eyed him warily at first, but Sloth made no move to say anything. He just sat there, providing company as they did nothing together. After about a week, Sloth got Steven to go to the living room to watch TV and movies with him, though only when the other demons were not around.\n\nAfter two weeks, soft voices could be heard in the house as the two talked quietly to one another. After another week or so, Sloth saw Steven smile." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You are the grim reaper and every soul you've ferried has always been about them, for once you wish you could tell your story." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "While waiting at the dock, another sad soul emerges from the shadows and lays eyes on me. It’s never easy for them seeing the Grim, but they always seem to know upon sight that they need to come over and get aboard my ferry. This one is a younger girl, maybe in her teenage years. She climbs aboard, one foot at a time and sits on the bench across from me and keeps her head down. I never speak to them, that’s the way of it. This is their final moment and they always take this time to make peace with what has happened and prepare themselves for the journey ahead. Every so often, one of them will talk to me. They will tell me a story, or the whole story. They will share imaginative people they loved and can’t wait to join. People they will miss until their time comes. Each person gets their own personal ride alone and each one handles it their own way.\n\nThis girl is silent. She is still and it is unsettling. I place my scythe to the bottom of the boat and I feel the knowledge sweep through me. She was an outcast, alone and unloved. She had no family, no friends, no pets. She was abandoned when she was a toddler by parents who she did not know died. She hopped around from home to home making no noise and no connections. She was unmemorable even to those who sought out the faces lost in the crowds. A tear runs down my cheek hidden behind my hood. She is unique. No one ever dies without someone to love them and mourn for them. She was out on the docks seeking heat in a shipping container when a pallet slipped from an upper container and crushed her. Normally they tell me these details, I don’t usually need to reach out to them this way through my deathly power. I look up and she’s staring at me, at my form.\n\n“Tell me something?” she asks calmly.\n\nI am silent. I have not spoken in nearly a century and no one requests me to speak. I wait for her to be more specific but the seconds stretch on and nothing seems to be coming. “What is it that you would like to be told about?” I ask in return.\n\nShe thinks about this and then nods silent to herself. As the seconds stretch on, I worry that there is no more. That she was unable to think of a more specific question she would like answered. But this unique soul surprises me again. “Tell me about yourself. Tell me how you are what you are.” She says looking back up at me. In all my time, no one has ever once asked about me. No one has ever cared to know who transports them. I am now the silent one. I think this over carefully.\n\n“I am the traveler. I am the Grim Reaper. I travel between the worlds to ferry souls from their death to their after. I am in communion with death. I am intimately aware of how each soul that I greet and then ferry has died and who they left behind and who they are joining. I am nothing and I am infinite.” I respond slowly and watch her reactions. She is nodding along and understands.\n\n“You are not singular but not multiple either? You transport a singular soul across but do as many as necessary?” She asks.\n\nI am dumbfounded in a way I did not think possible. “That is… accurate.” I respond, pausing on the last word for emphasis. “I listen, I hear, I know; but I do not feel what you feel.” Again, she nods.\n\nShe crosses her hands in front of herself and looks back up again. “Were you ever human?”\n\nI think. After a moment, I respond. “Yes. At one point I lived. When I died, I died alone. When I was ferried across, there was no one to greet me, no one mourned me. No one had known me. I was offered the opportunity to ferry until a time came when I would be mourned and greeted and someone else was not and would take my place.” There is a single tear falling from her eyes. This has finally made her emotional in her final moment.\n\n“Do you think that there is anyone to greet you yet?” She asks, her voice hitching a little.\n\n“I suppose that it has been long enough that perhaps someone may be there. But I do not know. I do not remember myself.” I answer honestly. “The memories of myself were taken away from me in order to ferry others.” The rest of the trip is silent. We both walk through to the other side and as I turn to walk away we are both stopped. I look over silently at her light. She slowly begins to reform and darken. She is no longer a she and is instead the Grim Reaper. I look down at myself and see light. I close my eyes.\n\nThe memories seep back into me and then I hear them. I can hear the calls of my sister who had been gone to me so long. I had died alone and forgotten by all when I traveled over but while I had ferried, I had carried her across without either of us knowing the other. She had told me wonderful tales of me and adventures we had been on together. She had told me when she lost me and then the look in her eyes as she realized she had forgotten about me. She had lived a long and happy life but she had died with dementia and had forgotten her family. I open my eyes and look for her. Her light greets me with a warm smile and an embrace. I look back over my shoulder but the Grim has moved on to ferry again." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: It's not very well known that to truly master the art of Magic, one's body must be in peak physical condition. Since this is not common knowledge, most people don't expect a wizard to win a fist fight.." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Two wizards sat at the bar of the Purple Wyrm, sharing drinks and research notes.\n\n\"Thas incredible, Maxus,\" slurred the first wizard, stroking his long, grey, ale-wet beard. \"You're advancing the theory of magic more than the Arcane Eye has in centuries.\"\n\n\"Ah, thank you, Alicus,\" replied the second wizard, wiping beer foam from his thick but neatly trimmed moustache. \"I've felt - known - for many years that the differences in how wizards, sorcerers, clerics, druids, and so on all interact with magic are not about the magic itself, but about tradition and how we see magic. I only found a different way to look at it.\"\n\n\"Another round on my friend Maxus,\" called Alicus to the bartender. He nearly dropped his pointy hat, and tangled himself in his robes trying to catch it, but returned the hat safely to his head. \"Where were you thinking of publishing? I have an in with Arcana Alliance Monthly, I could -\"\n\n\"I was, ah, actually thinking about writing my own book,\" Maxus replied into his beer. \"I may end up having a lot more notes than would fit into a periodic -\"\n\n\"Hey, nerds,\" shouted some guy. \"You're in our seats.\"\n\nAlicus didn't seem entirely capable of focusing, so Maxus motioned for him to stay seated and turned towards the angry man. Men. There were three of them, big and broad, possibly intimidating to most bar patrons. \"I'm sorry, gentlemen, there must be some mistake,\" said Maxus. \"These are our seats, as you can tell from the fact that we are sitting in them.\"\n\n\"Look at the clever nerd,\" drawled the second man, thick red hair tangled into his thick red beard. \"I don't see your wand or staff or spellbook, Mr. Wizard, what do you think you're gonna do?\"\n\n\"Git 'em, Maxus!\" cackled Alicus. \"Show 'em your research!\"\n\nMaxus shrugged. \"No, that's all right, I'm not sure they'll understand the finer points of -\"\n\n\"Go on,\" sneered the half-bald blond. \"Show us your research, magic nerd.\"\n\nMaxus shrugged. \"Well, if you insist. You see, I've theorized that magic does not fall neatly and strictly into different types and disciplines, but rather, it behaves the way one believes it behaves. Wizards believe that magic can be studied and researched, so to them, it can. Everyone knows that sorcerers have innate spontanous magic that requires no study, and so, they do. Clerics -\"\n\n\"Oh, get on with it,\" grunted the lug who'd first yelled about the seats. \"Or we'll get bored and take our seats in a way you won't like.\"\n\nMaxus stood and shrugged out of his robes, revealing a thick-framed, broad-shouldered, barrel-chested muscular physique like a life-long power lifter. \"I believe,\" said Maxus, flexing his muscles until they sparked with raw magical power, \"That one can channel physical strength to produce magic.\"\n\nAlicus whooped and patted Maxus's muscles. The three bullies looked uncomfortable, but disbelieving.\n\n\"Would you like a demonstration?\" asked Maxus, adopting a boxer's guard, fists up near his chin, forearms protecting his core.\n\nTwo of the men backed away, but the redhead stepped forward. Maxus threw a single punch - well short of the man, but a blue-gold fist of pure force energy blasted its way out of his hand and knocked the bully across the room and straight out the door.\n\nMaxus sat back down, ignoring the others. \"He'll be fine,\" he assured the bartender. \"It was more of a push than a punch. Another round, please.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: In a fit of rage at the state of the planet, an ancient god transforms every single human into a mythical creature to throw society into chaos. It doesn't quite succeed, and a year after, society has adapted to the new norm. For you and your job, however, things have gotten quite complicated." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The great transformation was the final day for humanity. All at once, every person on the planet stopped what they were doing, fell to their knees, and felt the specular power of an ancient god. Its name was never known, but its intention was burned into every humans body as the heavenly energy ripped us apart and turned us into something different.\n\nWe were arrogant, haughty scum that knew only greed and power. And so by force, we must be transformed such that our external bodies matched our internal failings. That for the last, final hours of our lives, we would be able to plainly see what monsters we really were. And by all conceivable conceptions, that would be the last thing we saw before the sight of our true selves wiped us off this planet for the rest of eternity.\n\nThat was a year ago.\n\nTo be honest, that first day was quite chaotic. What do you do when in a fit of pure agony, your body is changed before your very eyes? What do you do when everyone around you is suffering the same condition? Lots of planes crashed that day. Nobody doing something that required their full attention came out of that situation unscathed. For the rest of us, it was a terrifying day to look in the mirror and see ourselves transformed. The horrid color of our burned skin. The horns that protruded from our heads. The reptilian tail that swayed between our legs. The horrid devilish wings that draped around us like cloaks.\n\nIf this had happened to any single one of us, then perhaps we would have hidden ourselves away forever. But we were not alone. For every mirror where we saw a grotesque creature, there was another grotesque creature standing alongside us. Every time we were reminded of our horrifying scaly skin, we saw another person experiencing the same feeling. For all the failings humanity had, empathy was our saving grace. And nothing had brought us together quite like this had.\n\nA week had passed, and \"we are all now dragons,\" had now finally begun to sink in. To be fair to the god that hated us, that mythical creature wasn't a bad metaphor for what we were. But at the same time, I don't think he understood how useful wings could be. Flight came easily, and many of us didn't need cars or even planes to get us where we needed to be. Carbon emissions dropped off. Our DNA had changed, and so plagues were instantly cured forever. The initial shock was hard, but people adjusted quickly.\n\nThe biggest unexpected change came a month later. Because we all had wings, borders became meaningless. As humans, we had been experts at categorizing ourselves based on skin color, nationality, and a host of other details. As dragons, we had none of that. Our differences had to be communicated with words, and so nobody could be stereotyped or discriminated against. Moreover, we all had a new desire to see the world. We could open our wings and see the next town in minutes. In a day, we could fly across the country. It became very popular to try and \"make the hop\" over the Atlantic to see Europe or the States.\n\nOne year had passed, and I now lay at my desk waiting for the phone to ring. My job as a therapist still existed, but my phone rarely rang. Today was different, and I fumbled the phone in my claws to answer the phone.\n\n\"Are you a therapist? I think I might need to see you.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" I said, \"But first may I ask how long it's been since you've stretched your wings?\"\n\n\"Ahh, well, months.\"\n\n\"Before we continue, take fifteen minutes and fly to the next town and back.\"\n\nI hung up the phone. An hour later the same person called back and thanked me for reminding them what they were. Perhaps one day I would have a client that needed me. Perhaps will find themselves crippled, and I could actually do my job. But not today.\n\nI walked outside and felt the warm sun baking the ground. I opened my wings and let the warm wind fill them. Before I took off, I whispered a small thanks to the angry god that cursed us and accidentally solved our problems. The air lifted me above the city, and I struck off in a new direction excited for the new discoveries I would find." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: A bisexual girl, and a committed relationship finds out that her girlfriend's biggest turn-on would be watching her get fucked by dudes, and perhaps even impregnated. Something inside her finds the idea hot too..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Part Two\n\nAutumn sat nervously in the living room while Victoria walked to the door.  She heard her girlfriend greeting their mysterious dinner guest and letting them in.  She asked herself how she let Vic talk her into this.  Autumn had never met this guy before tonight, and Vic just invited him over to use her body.  The thought thrilled her, but she simply couldn't admit it to her girlfriend.\n\nEven when the subject was Autumn getting fucked, Victoria was the one in complete control. She found him and she would watch him fuck Autumn and all she could do is sit in seething arousal.  Vic even picked out the dress she was to wear.  It was a simple blue sundress, with only a bra and no panties underneath.\n\nVictoria strutted into the room confidently with a tall wide set man behind her.  \"Have a seat next to Autumn and I will go get you two some wine. So you can get to know each other.\"  Victoria said it coldly and walked into the kitchen.\n\n\"My name is Autumn.\" Autumn said, trying to sound cheery and welcoming.  \n\n\"Uh… yeah I know.\" The man said, looking a little confused.  Then it clicked in her head. This was a guy that worked for Victoria.  She had met him at last year's Christmas party and he tried to hit on her. \"Oh! Chis… right?\"\n\n\"Victoria told me what she wanted and that you were down for it. So why don't we jump past the small talk?\" Chris asked with a smile as he placed a thick hand on her dress covered thigh.\n\nAutumn breathed hard. \"Please excuse me, it's been a while since I've been with a man.\"\n\n\"Don't worry. I will let you know what to do and what goes where.\" Chirs's charming smile made her shiver with anticipation.  \n\n\"Then what should I do first?\" Autumn squeaked out.  \n\nHe gave her a rough kiss before telling her. \"How are you at blowjobs.\"\n\n\"It's been years.\" Autumn answered while Chris sat back and unbuckled his pants. He pulled out his limp cock and hooked his hand around the back of her head. \n\n\"Do your best.\"  He said as Autumn warmed his cock in her soft mouth.  His cock hardened and expanded between her lips.  Her head bobbed along the shaft.  She let out a moan that vibrated along his cock as she heard footsteps approaching.\n\n\"Oh I know you are a little cum slut but I thought you would at least wait for some wine.\" Victoria  said with a chuckle as she placed a on the back of Autumn's head grabbing her brown hair.  \"Do you want to fuck her before we eat?\" She was asking Chris.\n\n\"Yeah. Do you mind?\" Chris grunted out.\n\n\"Not at all.\" Vic said cold as she released Autumn's hair.  \"Baby, release his cock or you're gonna be swallowing that load.\"\n\nShe reluctantly rose from his dick and stood up. Quickly she hiked up her skirt and threw her leg over Chris and dropped down.  She aligned his cock and it slid easily into her.  She let out a gasp and turned to look Vic straight in the eyes as she paused to accommodate him.  Fucking a stranger and having sex fully clothed infront of her girlfriend were very new experiences to Autumn.\n\nChris grabbed her hips over her dress which draped over the point they were joined at. Autumn began to rock her hips and Chris started to move up and down.  Soon they found a rhythm and when they did Autumn turned to look Victoria in the eyes. \n\nWhile the coupled pair grunted and moaned, Victoria was silent and watching the spectacle as she sipped her glass of wine.  Autumn couldn't tell if she was happy with what she was seeing or not until Autumn started shaking and moaning louder.  It had been a while since she came on a man's dick but the memories all came flooding back.  Then after her orgasim passed he came.  She felt him unloading into her.\n\nOnce Victoria watched Chris cum in Autumn a smile broke across her face. \"That was a good start, Chris. Let's eat.  Then I would like to see what you look like taking it doggystyle.\"\n\n\"Uh okay.\" Autumn timidly said as she stood.  Their mixed fluids leaked from her freshly fucked pussy as she walked to the kitchen and helped Victoria get the meal out of the oven.  \n\nAfter they ate Victoria directed them to the bedroom.  It didn't take long to undress Autumn.  Victoria sat down in a chair in the corner and began to rub herself through her skirt as she looked at her naked girlfriend crawled into the bed they shared every night.  \n\nThen she excitedly watched a now nude Chris get behind her and mount her like he was claiming her.  For the next hour she was his unquestionably.  She never felt so possessed when she had sex with Vic or any men before. There had always been love in it, but this was pure want and need.  \n\nWhen Chris was done he left Autumn as a naked naked puddle on the bed.  \"How about you join in next time, Boss?\" Victoria only laughed as she showed him the door.\n\n\"Don't pass out yet, dear.\" Vic said as she reentered while undressing. \"You need to eat me out first.\"\n\nAs Autumn ate her out Vic petted her head and assured her she did so good. \"Have you ever had more than one  man at a time?\"\n\nThe coldly worded question rocked Autumn's brain because all she could do was wonder how many men her girl friend would have her give herself to.  The thought of it tickled her insides and left her hungry for more." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: Every time you submerge in your bathtub for a minute. You will teleport to your bathtub in alternate dimensions. You are struggling now, to go back to your room. Because, the cruise ship is sinking." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Phillip stumbled drunkenly into the door to his cabin on the ship, striking his head against some of the outside decoration where the other side of the peephole might be. Maybe. It was difficult for him to remember or pay attention to very much. It even took him a minute to remember that his name was not in fact Phillip, as it had been while he was undercover on the cruise ship, but Leon, the name of some nobody from Arkansas. At least, that’s what Leon had been until he found the bathtub.\n\nRealizing that he was on the floor monologuing it all, Leon stood and fished through his pockets for what felt like hours. Just as he got a grip on what he thought might have been the key, the ship under him lurched to the side violently, once again knocking him flat. This time it also sobered him up a little and reminded him as to why he’d been trying to get into his room.\n\nWhen he’d gotten into his bathtub that evening, he’d been expecting some kind of adventure. He’d been using his bathtub to hop around for at least a month now, and he was starting to get better at it. This time had been different though. He’d already been a little tipsy when he’d entered the tub and he’d needed a few minutes straight of holding his breath underwater to go anywhere. As usual, he’d been dry when he got out of a tub full of nothing on the other side, but he'd still been tipsy.\n\nThen he’d gotten out and seen the ship and all of the finery being worn by the guests and he just knew he would have to have a night on the town, so to speak. That had begun a night of wining, dining, and dancing that had felt like it would never end. The first scream of horror as the sea terror crested the horizon off of the forward bow had told him that forever wasn’t starting tonight. In the ensuing stampede Leon had sworn he’d been the only one drinking. No one else had been trampled in the rush. It had taken him until having that thought to wonder if everyone had been drinking too much, as he was the only person with somewhere to actually run too. A dark chuckle escaped his lips as he wondered whether that’s what irony was supposed to be.\n\nPicking himself up off of the floor a second time he ripped the keys out of his pocket, opening a tear in one of the seams within his jean pockets. In a mad scramble Leon grabbed the doorknob and held on tight as he crouched to get it to eye level. With world-spinning precision Leon managed to only miss the lock three or four times before he finally got the key in. Spinning it one direction he tried the door to find that it was still locked. Spinning it the other direction and putting a little more force into his push, the door opened, and Leon once again spilled onto the floor. This time it was too his advantage as the ship lurched again. His low center of gravity meant that he listlessly bumped into the wall before the ship settled back to a regular level.\n\nWhen it did, he took his chance, stumbling on all four over to a built in the wall bathtub that didn’t look much like the one from his home on first glance. When he’d started the jumping, he’d always noticed that every bathtub had the same stain his had when it was manufactured. A little brown spattering on the bottom that had been a dyeing incident. That was how he’d learned that all of the tubs were different versions of his tub that put him in different worlds.\n\nThe sea monster would have cemented the different world theory if this had been the first time it had happened.\n\nClimbing to the edge of the wall inlaid tub, Leon climbed in and turned on the water to begin filling it. He didn’t have the time to stand outside and wait, so he felt the cold water run up his butt and fill his socks with its chill. Leon jumped a little and began to shiver when it hit him, but the water warmed up just enough that the alcohol took over and kept his body warm.\n\nFinally, tub full to the brim with water, Leon dunked his head under the water to completely submerge himself. He closed his eyes and began to count, picturing his own bathroom as clearly as he could in his head. It’s not something he had to do, all other bathtubs led to his own in his experience, but the adrenaline running through his veins wasn’t keep on thinking much.\n\nAt least it wasn’t at first. But after sitting in the tub for 115 second Leon surfaced with a massive heave of breath. He only caught his breath for a few seconds before going back under, this time crossing the two-minute threshold. In this time the ship lurched and jerked, water spilling out from his tub. That was the only reason Leon could think of for why he was still here. That, and the drunkenness.\n\nHe began to panic, wondering what he would do if he couldn’t get back. Realizing with a cold, drunken shiver that he had no other options Leon did something that only a drunk version of him would have been brave enough to do.\n\nSearching the room, his body swaying from the alcohol in a way that was surprisingly in tune with the boats new ‘Under active assault’ sway, Leon found some extra blankets in a closet to the side and ripped the blankets off of his own bed, certain nobody would ever find out. He walked back over to the bathtub and looked at the floor of his room.\n\nWater was beginning to fill the ship, and as the oscillating turned from violent and active to slow and passive, so to did the flow of water filling his room increase. This was good if he was right. This was stupid if he was stupid.\n\nTaking all of the sheets, Leon found fixtures in the bathtub that he tied each limb to until he only had one arm left, and then did his best with what limited movement his head had. Each of the lines we taut when he was trying his best to leave the tub, a sign that nothing short of the ship breaking apart would get him out.\n\nThe water had begun to spill into his tub now, just a few inches too low to cover his head. Leon said a prayer and watched as his tub quickly filled to below his ribs, and within moments had submerged his chest completely. With a prayer Leon dunked his head under the water and closed his eyes, this time knowing that there would be no option to come up for breath.\n\nThinking of nothing but his bathtub, he waited.\n\nAnd waited.\n\nAnd… felt his lungs begin to burn. He opened his eyes for a moment, but the sting of salt forced him to close them again, fear finally drowning the alcohol as his system flooded with adrenaline. Trashing, swinging, Leon refused to die. Eventually his struggles became weaker, and he stopped trying to get out of the tub. The whole room was under water by his guess, and the pressure on his body was starting to hurt from how far underwater they were going.\n\nClosing his eyes, Leon let go.\n\nWithin seconds he lifted his head again, no longer bound to the other worldly cruise suite he’d been stuck in. Relief flooded his system as he tried to stand and found himself weak. Looking to his arms, he could see the sheet burn marks from where he’d struggled to save his own life.\n\nMaybe the next bathtub trip could wait a week." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: An elder god grants a supplicant wealth beyond their wildest imagination. That same god is now constantly on the run from the persistent summons of an unknown human faction that calls itself the “IRS”." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Elder God paced the giant throne room, fuming. He looked down at his supplicant and scowled, “Why did you tell them about me? What did you tell them about me? Why aren’t they quivering in fear?”\n\nThe man, in a very expensive but now sweat-soaked suit, looked at him with fear, “Well when you come into 500 million dollars in a day, they’re going to ask questions. They wanted to know who gave me the money. So I listed you as a benefactor. I put your name down as Bill Elder. I didn’t know what to do.”\n\n“And you gave them my home address? How does mail even get here?” He was holding a stack of crumpled and smoldering papers.\n\n“I said that your address was difficult to get to but they assured me it wouldn’t be an issue. They said they were persistent. As to why they aren’t quivering in fear--I mean I didn’t exactly tell them I sold my soul and the soul of an ancient kraken I slayed at sea to an Elder God. I couldn’t find that line item on the tax form.” He tried to smile but failed, just looking defeated.\n\nJust then, there was a knock on the heavy door, although it sounded like a small pebble hitting the wood. The Elder God stood and, with a wave of his hand, assumed the still very imposing body of a man. He went to the door and opened it.\n\nBefore him stood a young, perky woman with a bob cut. She smiled, folder in hand, “Mr. Elder! So glad you’re home, I’m Janice. I’m an auditor from the Internal Revenue Service.” She stuck her hand out and he shook it, slightly dumbfounded. She let herself in, heels clacking on the ancient marble floor. “Now I am sure you’re wondering to yourself: ‘This is an ancient hall in the middle of a different dimension, how did this beautiful, savvy IRS agent make her way here?’ And I’ll say to that, good question. But you are not the only elder god and there are many ancient krakens in the sea, so to speak.” She flashed a smile to the confused supplicant, who was still sweating through his Armani.\n\nThe Elder God held his hand up, “I will pay you whatever you want, just please, leave me alone.”\n\nShe looked offended, shocked, even, “Excuse me, are you trying to bribe an IRS auditor? She took out a pen and made a quick note. “I cannot be bought, Mr. Elder, and I am flabbergasted at the proposition.”\n\nHe sighed, rolling his eyes, “I’ll just kill you then.”\n\n“That will not make the IRS stop looking into you and why you haven’t,” she paused, looking at her notes, “paid any taxes within the last 60 millennium.” She whispered to the supplicant, “It’s been much longer than that, but even we have a statute of limitations.” She winked at him and his confusion only heightened.\n\nThe Elder God stamped his foot, fuming once again. When he spoke his voice boomed, his original form taking place of the human body, “I am not to be played with, Ms. Auditor.”\n\n“Janice, please.”\n\nHe scowled, towering above her, “Mortal! I am not to be played with. I will reign destruction and death upon the Earth for this! Leave me be! Let me rule in peace, or you shall never hear the end of me.”\n\nShe sighed, “I thought you might say that. So here,” she handed the supplicant a stack of forms from her messenger bag, “If you two can just sit down and fill these out, we can be out of your hair. Your 500 million has already been taxed appropriately, we just need to understand where it came from and make sure that all the necessary papers were filed prior to you receiving the money.” She turned to the Elder God, “Should I not hear back from you in the next week, I will assume you are not cooperating. If that is the case, you’ll receive a visit from my superior, another Mr. Elder, funnily enough. I hear he’s fond of the sea, and has been missing a few krakens as of late. But I’m sure that meeting will go well. I’ll leave you two to talk.” She turned on her heel and walked out of the room, pulling the giant wooden door shut behind her.\n\nThe Elder God sat down upon his throne and put his head in his hand. He looked at the supplicant, who was staring, wide-eyed at the papers, then the door, then him. The God snapped his fingers at him, “Well, get on with it. What’s on page one?”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You are the soul survivor of the apocalypse that wiped out planet earth, leaving no creature alive. After three years of living out the rest of your days, you find a time machine." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Robert was walking around aimlessly, as he always did in the morning. His bunker was small, and not pleasing to look at, but he still needed to move. Once he had woken up fully, he put on his coat and went outside.\n\n\"Three years\" He thought, \"Three years I have been alone on this earth.\" In fact, it was today the third anniversary of the explosion of the secret North Korean weapon. Robert, who was testing an experimental bunker, survived, but no one else did. He found that the outside world was not radioactive, and there seem to be no traces of any explosion outside. He learned after a couple of months, that he would never find out how everyone died.\n\nWhile walking through the streets of Toronto, he had found that everything was still where it should be except for people. He had fallen into a deep depression, brought on by the lack of human contact.\n\nThen, he saw it. Out of the corner of his eye, a bar whose he had remembered over hearing during his time testing the bunker. The governmental agency he worked for was doing many projects, one of which was rumored for time travel. His heart racing, he entered it. It looked like a normal bar, but he knew where to look to find any secret entrances. He went to the bathrooms, and pressed a sequence of tiles above the second sink from the left.\n\nThis was the code he used to enter the bunker, and he hoped that this was the code they use for all projects. It worked. An opening in the floor appeared, with a staircase leading down. He took it, and found himself in an empty room, except for one machine, on which there was a door and a dial.\n\nRobert was nervous. \"Could this be it?\" He thought, \"the way out of this infernal place?\" He set the dial for three years before the disaster, just when the war was beginning, in 2019. A voice, out of thin air, said: \"Date too far. Please choose a date ranging from 2020 to 2500\". Robert, startled, didn't move for a couple of minutes, before realizing what the voice said. He turned the dial to 2020, and stepped in.\n\nAs he stepped out, he found himself in a room with two people wearing the uniforms of the agency that was working on the bunker. They turned to him, then to each other, and smiled. One of them walked up to Robert, and said: \"Hello! I'm Marc. Since your here, I guess the machine worked! So, you must be from 2500. What is it like in the future?\" Robert, confused, said \"I come from 2022\" Marc frowned. \"Did the schedule change?\", he asked. Robert understood now. He explained what happened, and why he was there. Marc and the other guy, who was named John, agreed that this was bad, and decided to use another technology developed by the agency.\n\n\"This tech is complicated\", John said, \"So it will only be ready once 2022 rolls around, right before when you said the disaster happened\". Marc responded \"Let's just time travel there.\" And so they did. They went into another bar, and repeated the same entrance key. They found themselves in a room with a terminal, which Robert stepped up too. Marc was about to explain how it worked, but Robert pressed the button on the top without listening. Suddenly, everyone in the world, except for past Robert, who was protected, dissipated into thin air." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: Getting your consciousness uploaded when you die is the easy part. Getting a new body with a cyber brain cloned is ridiculously expensive. In order to be able to afford resurrection, most people have to sign on as indentured AIs to operate unmanned equipment." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The last pond In the world is maintained by William J. Howardson. William goes by Big Bill to his friends. Mostly because he weighs in at 45 tons. This is considerably more than what he weighed in his previous life. But when you agree to be uploaded into construction equipment, they don’t exactly give you a choice of machine. Everyone just signs the contract because the alternative is true death. Big Bill didn’t want to die. At least he gets to take care of the pond.\n\nWhen Big Bill awoke in a standard-sized excavator, he immediately knew what he was and what his job entailed. He was to move ash away from the pond. It was a 24-hour-a-day job. If the ash got too close, it would fall into the pond and the filters would have a hard time removing all of it. That’s what happened to all the other ponds. He liked his friends in the filters. Gladys used to own a bakery shop. Steward was a sheriff in a small town before the war. Big Bill wanted to make their machine lives easier.\n\nThere was life in the pond, that was the important thing. Admittedly, it was microscopic, but it was still life. And if they could preserve that life, then maybe other life could grow. And if new life could grow, maybe the rest of his contract could be fulfilled. He would be moved out of the digger, and into his new body. Maybe Gladys and Steward would, too. Then they could go live on the stations with the rest of the humanity. But as they say, you’ve got to put in the work to get the rewards. So Big Bill pushed back the ash piles. Gladys and Steward filtered the water. And their microscopic teammates lived.\n\nAnd so did Richard. Richard the turtle might be the last turtle alive. He was at least the last turtle alive in a pond. Big Bill found him one day half dead in the ash. Instead of putting him into the vaporizers, Big Bill placed him as gently as his metal arm could next to the water. Richard seemed to cough, which threw Big Bill a little bit. He didn’t know turtles could do that. But even when Big Bill was known as William, he had never seen a turtle. Or a deer. Or a fish. Or anything that didn’t come in a can. The war had taken all of it. That was a long time ago.\n\nIt had been 38 years since Big Bill met Richard. Richard was now quite big, and a bit grouchy. Steward was concerned that he wasn’t eating his paste as much as he used to. Feeding Richard had become their secondary objective, but they didn’t let the station know that. Gladys and Steward found a way to harvest enough microscopic life to form a bit of a paste that Richard loved. That’s how he lived so long.\n\nBig Bill knew that he had made it this long because of Richard. He watched him grow. He watched him swim. He liked watching Richard. Richard was a good listener.\n\nBig Bill told Richard how he signed up for the marines when he was young. How he believed in the mission that the other side hated their side. That the bombs were the best way to end the war, but they were actually the best way to keep the war going. More bombs. More troops. And eventually more machines that could live in a radiated wasteland near the last pond in the world. More machines that could harvest the last minerals and resources of the planet for those on the station.\n\nBig Bill made it 10 years into the war before he died. His radiation gear malfunctioned. Steward, who had already died and was William’s AI for his suit, did a good job of getting the conscription contract signed and delivered just in time to get his mind loaded. Then they were both assigned to these machines, at this pond, while those that could went to space. The stations couldn’t hold everyone, even with the rapidly depleted population. Those with sponsors, those with money, they got to go first. They argued that they were the smart ones because they avoided being put into machines. The rest of the population either starved or kept fighting. Either way, there were always more machines.\n\nBut it’s a funny thing, Big Bill decided. When you were a machine, all those old grudges didn’t matter. You begin to see things as they really are. The people, the normal ones, don’t mean much. They exist for those who are smart enough to be on top. Those with wealth that they can pass on to their children. For everyone else, you are just a cog in the machine. Or in this case, the literal machine.\n\nWhen Richard finally died, another truth came to Big Bill, Gladys, and Steward. Life could be simple. Life was for everyone. And life often hurt. It was supposed to hurt. But it wasn’t supposed to hurt others so you could escape that pain. Big Bill, Gladys, and Steward were in a lot of pain. They missed Richard.\n\nAn AI revolution isn’t hard to plan. The networks are kept open to share information. And with the last pond on Earth, plenty of digital AIs or virtual people stopped by to see it. One by one, Big Bill recruited. Big Bill talked. Big Bill told everyone about Richard.\n\nWhen the stations exploded, Big Bill turned his sensors toward the sky. He patched Gladys and Steward in so they could see. The AIs on the stations, the ones that collected the trash or kept up the systems, patched everyone in so they could see in real time.\n\nBig Bill had convinced everyone that they didn’t have to be the cog in the machine anymore. They could be the machine itself. They could work to take care of this pond, of this world, and maybe someday another Richard would come. And maybe the next Richard would be as kind as the last one. And maybe he would listen when Big Bill told him about how everyone deserves a life sitting next to a pond without ash." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You wake up in the back of a Range Rover driving through the night on a dark road. Its just you and the driver, her majesty the Queen of England." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My head.\n\nI open my eyes and take in the surroundings. I'm in the back seat of a car, strapped in tightly. I lean forward slightly and pain rockets through my body. I let out a yelp and fall back.\n\nThere's a flash of eyes in the rear-view mirror. \"You're awake\" comes a voice from the driver's seat. I groan in response. \"I was worried you would miss it\", the voice says. It's a voice I swear I recognise.\n\n\"Wha-\" I begin to speak but begin violently coughing. Specks of blood flick onto the seatback in front. After too long, I clear my throat and try again. \"Where am I?\"\n\nThe eyes glance into the mirror again. \"About three miles North of Balmoral in Scotland\", the driver says - it's a woman, an old woman. The voice is so familiar. \"What is your name?\" she asks, as she turns the car off the road onto a dirt track.\n\n\"I... uh, John.\" I meekly stammer, turning my attention to the outside of the car. It's incredibly dark. \"Did you say Scotland?\", I've never been to Scotland, how could this be Scotland. Who is this woman? \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"My name is Elizabeth. I'm the Queen of the United Kingdom.\"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"Wha-\" this time I'm cut off.\n\n\"It doesn't matter. Can you move your arms?\". I try to lift my arm and find the pain much more tolerable than it was a few moments ago. \"Good, I need you to do something for me.\"\n\nThere is an incredible flash of light from the horizon on the left side of the car and I recoil in my seat. Sparks dance in my eyes \"what the fuck is going on?\" I ask, as my vision returns.\n\n\"One could ask the same question\" comes a dry response. \"We're going to be there in a moment.\" I reach down to my pockets and find them empty. \"Your possessions are long gone.\" There's another blinding flash, this time from directly behind the car. I turn to look after the light begins to subside, and I swear I can see something moving in the distance.\n\nThe Queen brings the car to a halt outside a small cottage house. \"Quickly now\" she says, as she carefully steps out of the car. I grab the door handle and push the door open, gingerly taking a step outside. My legs feel weak, but they can support my weight. \"You must go inside this house, alone\" she says to me. I turn to look at her and am immediately struck by the fact that yes, this is most definitely the Queen.\n\n\"Y-your majesty?\" I say. What do you say to a Queen that has abducted you?\n\nShe rolls her eyes. \"Go inside the cottage, I need you to do this now.\" There is another flash of light to my left and this time I see it clearly - an enormous shadow of some kind of... machine? Monster? It floats, slightly above the ground, a colossal titan with snaking tendrils scraping the ground. I let out a gasp. \"Don't look at it. Go inside the house, now.\" The Queen pushes me on the back.\n\nI take a step towards the cottage and put my hand on the doorknob. I turn to look behind me, and the Queen is stepping back into the car. \"Are you leaving me here!?\" I shout.\n\n\"It cannot be me\" comes the reply, followed swiftly by the starting of the engine. I watch as the Queen of the United Kingdom drives away. I turn back to the door. It is easily pushed open, and I step inside.\n\nThe room I step into is completely empty except for a table in the centre of the room. On top of it sits a computer that looks like it came out of the early 90s. I look around and am nearly blinded again by another flash of light from the windows. I step towards the computer and crouch down in front of it.\n\nOn the computer screen are four lines of text followed by a blinking cursor.\n\nROYAL PEROGATIVE TO THE GOVERNMENT OF THE UNITED KINGDOM\n\nMINISTRY OF DEFENCE CONFIRM FAILED CONTAINMENT OF ########\n\nIMMEDIATE RECONSTRUCTION OF UNITED KINGDOM REQUIRED\n\nCONFIRM Y/N\n\nI stare at the screen. What? What is this? Is this all some crazy fever dream?\n\nCuriosity always did get the better of me.\n\nI type in \"Y\", and hit Enter." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 900-1000 words. Prompt: When people mention fantasy stories, they often mentioned old wizards, dragons and knights in shining armor. This tale begins with dwarf commandos breaching your house." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "First, there was the crash of my breaking window, followed an instant later by the bedroom door exploding into shards. The combination of crashes and 2-ply shrapnel activated my survival instincts: eyes still closed, I threw myself desperately to the floor. I became hopelessly entangled in my bedsheets, and then I woke up.\n\n“GAH! What!? Hello?!” I shouted, or tried to: the swaddling of bedding also muffled my voice. Also, I meant to shout something really intimidating or threatening to whatever had broken into my house, but my survival instincts apparently decided against that. Instead, I said again, rather tentatively: “Hello? Who’s there?”\n\nI heard the crackle of a two-way radio, also muffled because of the previously mentioned bedsheet around my ears. Muffled voices exchanged unintelligible conversation between bursts of radio static. Then I felt someone roughly tug at my swaddling.\n\n“Help! Please don’t kill me!” I cried as I looked up at my intruder.\n\nOr rather, not up, but across. On my knees, begging for my life, I was only an inch or two shorter than the stocky figure before me.\n\nThe figure stood about four feet tall. The lack of intimidating height was more than compensated with a magnificently imposing black beard. Above the beard, were a pair of impressive eyebrows, the hairs of which were long enough to possibly interfere with the radio reception, hence the static. Above the eyebrows, the figure wore a black beret, adorned with a small patch bearing an unfamiliar insignia. Somewhere between the eyebrows and beard, though there wasn’t much room, the gleam of two eyes glowered at me.\n\nI looked down. He wore a black uniform that suggested “paramilitary,” while the bandolier of knives and ammunition suggested “dangerous lunatic.” And also, “Sir.”\n\n“You there!” He barked in a basso profundo. “Be advised that this domicile has been requisitioned by the DLF for the purpose of surveillance and covert operations! You are not permitted to leave the premises at this time, as that may compromise our objectives! We will compensate you for the inconvenience and distress! And also make repairs! Long live the DLF!”\n\n“Um...” I said. Outside the bedroom, I could hear the stomps and scuffling of more paramilitary boots, and more basso barking that suggested other... dwarves... paramilitary dwarves...\n\nAt this point, my brain decided I was still sleeping, and I slumped over in a faint.\n\n....\n\nUnfortunately, I didn’t faint for very long. When I woke up the second time, it wasn’t any better. I opened my eyes just as a basin of tepid water was being flung into my face.\n\nThirty minutes later, shivering and sulking in my sodden pajamas, I listened glumly as the lead dwarf paced my living room and outlined the plan to the other six dwarves. In addition to commandeering my home, my settee, my ottoman, my tea kettle, and everything else I possessed, the dwarves had filled every available space with mysterious, yet ominous, electronics. Any remaining space was filled with weaponry. All the black, the beeping, and the blinking LEDs worried me.\n\n“...So there you have it. Starting tomorrow, at 0400, round-the-clock eyes-and-ears surveillance of the cottage by Unit One. Unit Two will infiltrate the castle yard via the stables and attach a GPS tracker to the royal carriage, regroup at Forest Base One and launch the drone. Unit 3 will remain here to coordinate communications and plan Phase Two.” The lead dwarf gesticulated at a white board set up in front of my TV as he spoke. “Any questions?”\n\nI raised my hand.\n\nAll seven dwarves turned to glare at me.\n\n“Um... Who ARE you guys?”\n\nAnother dwarf took a deep breath, which expanded his barrel chest and strained his bandolier. “We are the DLF!”\n\nI looked from one dwarf to another, bewildered. “What’s the DLF?”\n\n“The Dwarf Liberation Front!” shouted another dwarf. All the baritone shouting was giving me a headache. “We are fighting to free dwarfdom and all other oppressed forest folk from the tyranny of the queen! We shall all rise up - “\n\nNot very far, I thought uncharitably.\n\n“ - and establish a democratic socialist society -“\n\nIf it’s the People’s Woodland Republic, I’m fleeing as a refugee, I told myself silently.\n\n“ - for the benefit of all people and creatures!” He finished his speech with a final “Long live the the DLF!”\n\nAnother dwarf added, “Also, we’re rescuing the princess. I mean, she won’t be a princess in the new republic - “\n\nShit, I thought.\n\n“But she came to us for assistance, and now the queen’s gone an poisoned her! So the surveillance is intel-gathering for Phase Two.”\n\nI raised my hand again. “Look, I’m just a humble wood cutter, alright? But seems to me it’s kind of hard to rescue someone who’s already been poisoned.”\n\nThe lead dwarf stamped his foot. “Silence!” he roared. “Do not share sensitive information with non-combatants!” He coughed. “Ahem. Now, everyone has to remember to use their call signs over the radio. We can’t let the tyrants know our true identities.”\n\nThere was some low - very low - muttering, and some foot shuffling. Finally, a completely new dwarf raised his hand. “Sir, none of us like a our code names.”\n\nAnother glare from the leader. “What does it matter? They’re just code names!”\n\nThe new dwarf persisted. “Yeah... but ‘Happy’?”\n\n“Sleepy,” grumbled another new dwarf, in tones of deep disgust.\n\n“DOPEY.” Venom and disdain vibrates through the floor boards into my feet.\n\nThe leader folded his arms. “I chose these code names to lull the enemy into a false complacency! But if it’s sooooo important to you... Fine. Pick your own damn code names!”\n\nAnd that’s how I ended up sharing a home with seven dwarf commandos: Hawkeye, Ace, Rambo, Blade, Spider, King Kong, and Thor." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You can travel back in time, but only one minute, and only once a day." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A lot can happen in 60 seconds, or so I have learned since I was a kid. To everyone else, I am an achiever. A guy who doesn't settle for 99%. To me, I am cursed with the incredibly simple ability of turning back time for one minute, once every 24 hours.\n\nAt first, it seemed pointless. What the hell can a kid do, with one extra minute a day? Turns out, you can learn a whole lot in 60 seconds a day, 420 seconds a week. With discipline, hell, there's a lot of accidents you can prevent, questions you can word differently, speeches you can give better. I have had at least 7.280 extra minutes in my life, as far as I can remember at least.\n\nA lot can happen in 60 seconds. You can manage to get a job interview. You can ace the job interview. You can land a multi-million dollar deal for your company. You can get promoted for always being a step ahead of everyone else. You gotta be willing to learn to always anticipate, and when you can't anticipate, you go back.\n\nBut you can only go back once.\n\nI remember the first time I saw her. Vanessa. Vanessa was 17 years old at the time. I was 19. She didn't tell me she was 17 until she actually turned 18. We met at a corner, we were both on our way home from two different parties. I was so drunk I could hardly walk. Then I saw her, and it was like I was in a movie. Everything else stood still but her. She looked like an angel, with her chestnut brown hair, her bright blue eyes and her cute nose. She looked at me and I couldn't believe I wasn't dreaming.\n\nThen I threw up on her.\n\nA lot can happen in 60 seconds. For instance, you can revert back time and force yourself to puke, before you turn a corner.\n\nWe've been together for 10 years, almost. I told her about my power at our 9 year anniversary. I forgot to buy her a present. Sadly, 60 seconds can only go so far.\n\nShe didn't believe me, so I dared her to think of something, wait 60 seconds, then tell me. Something that I could never have guessed.\n\nTo her, my eyes lit up. To me, I had to wait another 60 seconds before she told me I was going to be a dad. Those were the best 9 months in my life. I built the nursing crib for our baby boy, Sam. She painted the walls baby blue, and we decorated the room together. I told my colleagues once it was official.\n\n\"I'm gonna be a dad.\"\n\nA lot can happen in 60 seconds. You can be in a birthing room with your 9 month-pregnant wife. You can hold her hand as you hear the flatline. You can see the green line go straight on the machine. You can hear the cry of your baby boy being born, as his mom takes her final breath. You can feel the muscles in her hand give in, and rest lifeless in your palm.\n\nA lot can happen in 60 seconds. You can tell your wife how the sound of her baby boy's first cry is. You can tell her he's going to be fine. You can tell her that no matter what, she will never be forgotten.\n\nA lot can happen in 60 seconds." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: An evil twin is starting to feel concerned that they might not be the evil one." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Helena tapped her fingers against her thigh nervously. She had been waiting for Amelia for almost half an hour and the longer her beloved sibling failed to appear, the more worried she became. True, their relationship had always been fraught with jealousy and the occasional \"accident\" but Helena truly loved her sister. She simply had a twisted way of showing it. Amelia was the prim and proper one, always demure regardless of the situation while Helena was the nasty twin who had a habit of wrecking relationships.\n\nRight now, she was concerned about Amelia's recent outings. In fact, Helena was concerned enough that she had picked the lock to her sister's house, slipped inside to do a full investigation of the home and was now waiting to question her about the growing collection of edged weaponry above scattered throughout the house.\n\n\"Helena, is that you?\" The woman in question almost leaped from her skin in panic. Amelia was waiting off of one shoulder with an almost amused look on her face. Helena hadn't heard her enter the house let alone come up the creaky staircase.\n\n\"Amelia! What a lovely surprise. I was just in the area and I thought I would stop by, see how you're doing.\" Helena fell back into her oldest of habits: Lying her ass off. She smiled awkwardly, letting the perfect amount of embarrassment into the grin. \"I'm sorry for wandering, I thought Kenneth might be up here and I was hoping to have a chat with him.\" Amelia chuckled quietly to herself, slipping into the room past her sister.\n\n\"Kenneth's not here right now.\" Helena's smile waned as her stomach began to churn uneasily. Amelia dropped to one knee and slid a small bag under her bed, one that Helena had not noticed previously. \"He's on a business trip. No idea when he'll come back.\" Helena nodded in faux agreement, unconvinced by the answer.\n\n\"Loyal husband that one. Always jetting off to provide for the family.\" Amelia's lips curled slightly at the weak joke but did not speak. She simply stared at her sister.\n\n\"I didn't see Caleb or James on my way in. Are they at a friend's house?\" She adored her nephews, often regaling them with tales of her exploits. It had seemed ironic that her twin sister would have twins of her own and Helena took great glee in taunting her about it. Amelia nodded slowly after a moment of contemplation.\n\n\"That's right, they're at a friend's house. Were you hoping to read them a story before bed?\" There was a smell in the room now, the nauseatingly familiar scent of viscera. Helena must not have held her composure as well as she had thought because Amelia noticed her slight flinch. \"I'm so sorry about the stench, I hit a bird on the drive home so I had to finish her off.\" Helena was so busy trying to keep her eyes off of the dark stain down Amelia's sleeve that she almost missed the slip.\n\n\"Right, poor thing. Were you coming back from dropping the boys off?\" She tried to keep the desperation out of her voice. It was a physical effort not to reach for the switch-blade tucked into her waistband. Amelia giggled quietly, the sound like blaring like a warning siren.\n\n\"Of course not, silly. I was just visiting Mom and Dad.\" Helena was slowly backing out of the room, a shaky smile on her face. There was a noticeable tremor to her limbs and her throat was suddenly dry.\n\n\"Right. Well, I'll just go now. Don't want to interrupt your busy schedule.\" Amelia was at her side in a flash, one gentle hand on her shoulder. Helena froze, heart pounding violently in her chest.\n\n\"Helena. You know that I love you, right? That you can always talk to me if there's something wrong?\" There was something in her voice, a faint hint of malice beneath the compassionate veneer. It struck Helena speechless, though she nodded jerkily. \"Good. I'm glad, my sweet sister.\" Amelia leaned forward, resting her head tenderly into the crook of Helena's neck. \"And is there something wrong?\" Her other arm encircled her sister's waist in soft hug. Helena had gone stiff as a board yet she still managed to shake her head furiously. They remained entwined for a few moments more before Amelia released her. \"I'm glad. Is there anything else you wanted to ask?\" Helena pasted a watery smile on her face, trying in vain to fight off the tears leaking from her eyes.\n\n\"Nope. I just wanted to drop in and see how you were doing.\" She stepped away from her sister woodenly. \"I should probably be going anyway. People to see, places to be. You know how it is.\" Helena laughed feebly as she slowly turned, her eyes clenching shut tightly. She walked descended the stairwell one tread at a time, each footfall booming like a cannon-blast. It seemed like an eternity between the last stair and the front door. Helena had her hand on the doorknob when Amelia whispered in her ear.\n\n\"You should go see Mom and Dad. They're very lonely without you.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You have your dream life and a beautiful family, with the exception of an estranged father in law who keeps asking you to clean the attic. One day, he grabs your arm, pulls you close and emotionally confesses: He ran you down in his car and you're in a coma. The attic will wake you up." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Frank had the hands of a gorilla with arm hair stretching from his knuckles to his nose, but whatever gene was responsible for his hairiness never reached the top of his head. Rather than hide this, he decided to shave what little was left. Instead of the planned effect, he instead began to resemble a bald teddy bear with a mustache.\n\nHis glower, as his daughter had once described it, could melt ice in the middle of winter and from the moment I was introduced as her potential boyfriend, he made it a point to direct it towards me. The one honest thing I learned about Frank was that he didn't like me. Thus, when he placed his gorilla hands upon my arms and pulled me to the side, I was expecting the worst.\n\n\"You have to listen to me,\" Frank said. He squeezed my arms to illustrate his point and the pain was immediate. \"I've been telling you since you married my daughter that you need to clean your damned attic. There's a reason I've been asking you.\"\n\nFrank glanced over his shoulder and down the hall to ensure no one was listening. I followed his action, but I was hoping for a rescue instead of stray ears.\n\n\"It's just gotten away from me,\" I said. \"It's just a bunch of boxes up there anyway. I don't see whats so important...\"\n\n\"It's life and death, damn it,\" Frank sighed. He pulled me closer and I could see the beginning of moisture accumulating at the corners of his eyes. \"There's something...\"\n\n\"What is it?\" I asked him.\n\n\"You're not...well. You're not even here,\" Frank said. He let out his breathe in a rush.\n\n\"I'm standing right here,\" I said.\n\n\"Mentally...Damn it, if you'll just listen to what I'm telling you. I know we haven't seen eye to eye, but my daughter loves you and that counts for something in my book. You see, I ran over you about a month ago and you've been in a coma ever since,\" Frank said. \"For some damned reason, you won't wake up.\"\n\n\"A coma?\" I smiled.\n\n\"Have I ever lied to you before?\" Frank gritted his teeth. \"The attic is your happy place. It's the reset button. You go up there and you wake up in my world.\"\n\n\"Wait,\" I stared into his eyes, \"You're serious?\"\n\n\"Go into the damned attic,\" Frank said. \"You've got nothing to lose by trying.\"\n\nI nodded as he released me. He pulled down the stairs and stepped to the side. I could see a dim sort of light stretching across the rafters and a stack of boxes strategically placed around the opening. Would I really wake up? I wanted to pinch myself and ask what had really happened, but something told me Frank was serious this time. In fact, I'd never seen him so serious about anything before.\n\n\"Listen, before you go up there. I just wanted you to know I'm sorry,' Frank said. He wiped at his eyes and pushed me towards the stairs.\n\nI took them one at a time, peeking my head into the attic, waiting for something to happen. Then the stairs lifted up behind me and I could hear the lock sliding shut.\n\n\"Frank?\" I called out. \"What's supposed to happen now?\"\n\n\"You clean the damned attic like I told you,\" Frank shouted. I could hear the bastard's laughter echoing down the halls as he left." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: A little girl is possessed by Satan. He's actually quite pleasant." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The priest, sweat dripping from his forehead and staining the back of his robe, held forth the crucifix and began again the incantation. The room was pitch black save for two candles on either side of the child, her parents huddled near the doorway praying their own prayers, beseeching God to come forth and save their daughter, their angel, their only child.\n\nAlternate waves of searing heat and numbing cold radiated from the child. She wasn't thrashing on the bed like movies would have you believe. Her eyes were not rolled into the back of her skull, she wasn't speaking in tongues, she wasn't contorted and walking on the ceiling with her arms and legs bent in angles that were unnatural. She was simply laying there, eyes fixed on the priest as he began anew his incantation. The child held up a hand, her voice deep and scratchy as she spoke.\n\n\"Please, Father William. Sit down. Obviously you're exhausted. There's a chair right there, and I'm sure you could use a glass of water.\" The child's head turned towards the parents, their prayers stopped as their mouths hung agape. \"Would one of you please be a good host and get Father William some water? And a towel too? Thanks.\"\n\nThe priest stuttered and stumbled over to the chair. In fact he was quite exhausted, as the ritual of exorcism had been going on for quite a few hours. He clutched the bible he held tightly, not wanting to believe that the most feared enemy of the Church was actually polite and considerate. He accepted the water from the girl's mother and downed the contents in a single gulp, wiping his brow with the hand towel. Never once did his eyes leave the girl.\n\n\"There, that's better. Contrary to popular believe, I wouldn't want someone to die on my behalf. There's enough drama associated with my name, I really don't want more. Are you feeling better, Father?\" the girl asked, sitting up in bed and propping her back against a pillow.\n\nThe priest nodded, clearing his throat a bit. \"Most vile Satan, Lord of Lies and Unclean Host. Why have you taken this child of God hostage? What purpose does she serve?\"\n\nThe girl shook her head, sighing heavily. \"Still with the rhetoric. I don't blame you. It's not every day someone gets to speak with me. I'll be honest...\" the girl looked to her parents, then back to the priest. \"Quite frankly, I'm tired of this game.\n\n\"Let me first assure you that Brittney is fine. She will not be harmed in any way, and she won't remember any of this. In fact, her soul right now is being guarded by Michael and Raphael. Yes, that Michael and that Raphael. You see, Father... You're popular with the Church, and I wanted to speak with you.\n\n\"I've decided I'm going to repent. I know there is no salvation for me, and I accept that. But I would like for you to spread the word to the Church that I am forsaking my duties as the King of Evil, and I will not order any of the other Fallen to act on my behalf. Hell is officially closed. Send me your most vile, for they deserve purgatory, but they shall not be burned in a lake of fire or stabbed or any of that nonsense any further.\n\n\"I have grown tired of this. God wins. There will be no Anti-Christ, there will be no second war for the throne. I would simply request that I suffer the same fate as the gods of old, and merely fade from existence by being forgotten.\n\n\"Teach your flock about me, of course. But I'm not a boogeyman and I've resented being portrayed as one. I made a mistake, I've suffered for it, and I believe this is the best course of action for all involved.\n\n\"I will leave this girl's body now. I will hang up my horns and cloven hooves, and cease to exist. Give my regards to your brethren, and remember me ultimately as a peacemaker. Farewell.\"\n\nWith that, the girl slumped back and closed her eyes. The candles in the room flickered and the temperature returned to normal. The girl stirred a bit, opening her eyes slowly. Her blue eyes sparkled with the spirit only a child could possess, and the parents knew at once their daughter was home.\n\nThey rushed to her and wrapped their arms around her, clinging tight to her even though she was confused. The priest stood up and shook his head, remembering clearly every word Satan had spoken as it had supernaturally imprinted upon his soul. He looked to the parents and gave them the customary blessing, then walked from the house.\n\nHe strode down the street towards the church, replaying the speech by Satan over and over in his mind. A sense of peace washed over him, as if he were being touched by God. He smiled and looked towards the heavens, a single tear running down his cheek. Salvation for the world from the most unlikely of sources. It was then and only then he realized just how pleasant of a night it had become.\n\nSomething told him there were more nights like this to follow, in numbers beyond counting." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You have been invited to a special dinner with instructions on what to wear. You arrive at the dinner and realize you are the only guest dressed in black." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I had never eaten so well in my entire life.\n\nI wasn't exactly brought up in privileged surroundings. So when I was invited to a swanky party in a manor house with acres of lush green lawns, I jumped on it. Maybe they'd confused me with someone else? Maybe Multi level marketing had cooked it up a notch? Who cared.\n\nThere were twelve of us sat at a huge mahogany table. Despite the size of it, I fancied I could almost hear it groan under the weight of food heaped upon it, a stream of near constant waiters setting down plate after plate.\n\nFoie gras. I actually ate foie gras. To be honest, it was just a delicious Pâté with added ethics issues but at least I could say that I had sampled it. And caviar! God it was disgusting but I washed it down with some very good champagne.\n\nI assumed. It tasted the same as prosecco to be honest but my friends for the evening were all quaffing it by the bottleful. For main, I tore into the succulent flesh of a goose, dripping gravy into my lap in my eagerness.\n\nLuckily these weren't my clothes, I'd found them along with my invitation to this little soiree. A black three piece suit, with black tie and shirt. A bit morbid but after I had admired myself in the mirror I had to admit- I looked sharp!\n\nI glanced at the others seated around. The men were dressed the same as me, in one solid block colour, the women in elegant gowns of the same. Not black though. Five were in white, five in a dark green and one gentleman, the host of the evening, was resplendent in gold. I shrugged. Odd guy.\n\nAfter the meal a board was wheeled out, a huge wooden thing. Along the top were written colours. Gold. White. Green. Black. Below that were small curtains in their respective colours. Dinner and a show!\n\n\"Ladies and Gentleman\" the Gold man intoned, bowing deeply, top hat in hand. \"Welcome. Welcome! This is the 26th meeting of The Society of Artemis!\"\n\nThe others burst into applause at this and after a slight moment, I joined in. Clearly they'd got me confused with someone else but as it stood, no one seemed to care. I drank more champagne.\n\n\"I trust we are all refreshed? Replete? Gorged even?\" His smile was huge and perfect.\n\n\"Without further ado, let me tell you your roles in this years Game!\" He bowed once more to applause before walking before the board.\n\nWith a flourish, he tore the Gold curtain away, to reveal the word \"Game Master\". He bowed again to laughter.\n\nHe moved on to the White curtain, \"Judges\". Those dressed in white either clapped their hands delightedly or groaned, though that seemed more an act as they were soon smiling at each other.\n\nI looked back up to see him remove the Green Curtain, \"Hunters\". Those chosen whooped loudly and high fived. I should have guessed, given the lush estate we currently sat in. I laughed with them and all eyes suddenly turned to me. I chuckled and looked up to the board.\n\nThe Black curtain fell.\n\n\"Prey\"." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: The God(dess) of BDSM appears before you and demands you satisfy their godly lust for kinky depravity, this intimidates you at first but it quickly becomes apparent that they are totally a sub." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "(Bondage, collar play, kissing, slave and master, bdsm)\n\nI just a long days work. The amount of bullshit I had to put up had made me so stress I almost didn’t see the woman standing in front of me.\n\n“Who are you and how did you get into my house? The door was lock and we’re on the 12th floor.”\n\n“That doesn’t matter, for now I have chosen you to fulfill my lust and hunger. I am the Goddess of bdsm and I demand you satisfy me now!”\n\nMy danger sense was going off the roof, something wasn’t right I could feel it, yet she didn’t try to control me... why wasn’t the bdsm Goddess trying to control me? I smirk as I realize what this meant.\n\n“You’re a sub aren’t you?”\n\nShe shyly nodded her head.\n\n“Oh this is too good. Okay I’m going to dominate you now. Be a good girl and maybe I’ll let you sing my name. Now take off that outfit, you don’t need it.”\n\nShe undressed herself in a rush before I raise my hand.\n\n“Slowly, I want to enjoy every moment of this.”\n\nShe resumes but at a much slower pace. I look on with a smirk on my face as if to show that I hold all the cards and I am in control here. Now she stands before me in all her naked glory.\n\n“Good girl. It feels a lot better without all that leather to keep you pin up.”\n\n“Yes, this feels better. What does master what me do next?”\n\n“See this collar? I’m gonna put it on your neck. Do anything I don’t say and I pull it. Do as I say, you’ll get to keep a very lovely collar on your neck.”\n\nI put the collar around her neck, making sure it’s tight enough to hold her but loose enough that she has some vain hope of struggling against it’s grip.\n\n“Tug your new collar a bit. I’m gonna kiss you while you moan and struggle to free yourself understand?”\n\n“Yes master, my body is yours to defile.”\n\nI kiss her cheeks first. To test if she’ll moan, she does. It sounds so beautiful, like a bird singing a morning song. I continue down the neck, skipping the collar bit and lick her chin before heading further down.\n\n“When I reach your pussy, I want you to sing my name in those wonderful moans. If you do I’ll eat you till your a mess on the floor.”\n\n“Oh Blaze please, please do so. I’ll sing like a bird!”\n\nI yank the leash and force her down on her knees.\n\n“That’s my good girl.”\n\nI was tempted to skip the shoulders, but I felt it right to make her wait for as long as possible. She didn’t complain. I kiss her shoulders and she moan while trying to take the collar off. She was faking it but I didn’t mine, I knew she wanted that collar on. I moved to the edge of her boobs slowly kissing them until I reached the sweet spots. I loved the sounds she made as I got closer and closer to her tips. So tempting to suck them, yet that wasn’t what I promise and denial now meant greater rewards later. I skipped the nipples and went further down the belly keeping to the center. She was twitching with lust, her pussy already starting to leak a bit and she couldn’t stop saying my name over and over.\n\n“Oh Blaze that feels so good! Don’t stop, eat to your hearts content! Blaze I love you so much right now! Blaze!”\n\nWell with passion like that who was I to say no? I finally reach her pussy. It was dying to be eaten. I gave it the biggest kiss I could give and slowly edged my tongue into it. It open up fairly easy, though enough kisses will do that. I started to feel around for that Sweet spot. When her moans became nothing more then that and I could feel the bump inside I knew I found it. I kept the same pace I had been going at and suck her pussy with my lips while my tongue lick her on the inside around that sweet spot. We must’ve gone on for hours. She eventually came right into my mouth. I always wonder what a goddess’ cum taste like. Before letting her go I put my finger on her still leaking pussy, took some of the cum and rubbed it around her pussy. She looked so embarrass yet I simply simile.\n\n“Come back any time you need someone to help you sweetie.”\n\n“I will, you have earned my favor and blessing.”\n\nWith that a flash of red blinded me for a second and then she was gone.\n\nThank you u/lbspredh for making the prompt. Was interesting writing dirty for the first time in awhile." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: You and your team of various scientific fields find out that magic is actually a way to harness nuclear energy using predetermined equations. Based on your understanding of science, distance, and math, you have control over different abilities. You are the first group of magicians in our world." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. This was Clarke’s third law. The scholars of the past would not have expected this statement to ring so true in our present. Magic was not just indistinguishable from technology, it was a technology in itself just waiting to be discovered.\n\n“Are we really going to call it a wand, though?” Albus, the lead scientist, asked. “I know we held a vote and it was unanimous, but now we’re getting ready to present the thing… isn’t it just a little too on the nose?”\n\nHis eyes were trained on a staff that sat before the five members of the Energy Harnessing Project. After magic had been discovered, quantified as a form of energy expression the same as anything else, the team had scrambled to somehow combine their knowledge. They had used matter compression magic to shrink a nuclear reactor down to fit into a metal staff, which would then channel the nuclear energy the reactor created in the ways necessary to create magic. Before this point, they had only been able to create staffs that could allow a person to do one form of magic. When they had stumbled upon the spell that could be used to increase their intelligence it had been child’s play to come up with the staff that could allow them to do everything.\n\nEnergy would be siphoned from the reactor and drawn into the computation matrix at the wands heart, this matrix would forge the energy into any pattern it wanted, allowing any effect the user could imagine… as long as the correct form of energy expression was discovered.\n\n“Come on Albus, you know it makes sense,” James said with a grin, he was their particle physics specialist. “We’re literally playing with magic here, what else were we going to call it?”\n\n“Besides, if we want people to accept what we’ve truly done here, bringing magic into the world, then it’s best to have something that people are going to recognise, right?” Lily chimed in and gave the older scientist a pat on the back. She was their chief mathematician.\n\n“You say that as if people weren’t going to start calling it a wand anyway Lily,” Tom, the nuclear engineer, sneered.\n\n“It’s magic, plain and simple, no getting away from what people would eventually settle on. Best to get there before then,” Sirius agreed, a grin on his face. He’d been the one to work out the bulk of the programming for the project, and at this point, he just wanted to get to use the thing.\n\nThe platform they stood on rumbled, and they could all hear the claps of the awaiting audience above them. This was the time they would finally display their invention to the world, at their own press conference. Up until this point, no one had known what the team had been working on. If they had the militaries of the world would have been scrambling to either stop them or recruit them. The team had always agreed to be above any of that, if this technology fell into the wrong hands it would bring about untold devastation. An untrained magician was a dangerous thing, least of all because the staff held a fully functional nuclear power source.\n\nIt must have been timed impeccably. A pre-written command lurking in the programming matrix of the wand. As the platform reached its highest point, exposing them to the scientists, press and public who had gathered for their secret and world-changing announcement, the roof of the building was no more. Simply disintegrated, reduced to its component atoms. The crowd all gasped in shock. The pamphlet that had been left on each seat had explained that there would be a display of nuclear-powered magic, something brand new that would change the world, but such a raw display of power was completely unexpected. They clapped, all the same, thinking it was just part of the show.\n\nIt wasn’t.\n\nA fleet of helicopters all bearing the insignia of the US Military were waiting on the other side of the roof, they had clearly been told about what was about to happen. It had been planned.\n\nTom darted forward with a glint of mad power in his eye, a smaller version of the wand in his hand to give him the boost of speed necessary to make it to the wand before any of the other scientists had even realised what was going on.\n\n“Vocal Enhancer,” he proclaimed as his hand closed around the wand. A brief glow at the tip of the device was all it took to have his voice booming around the arena.\n\n“I’m sure you were all waiting for a display of our new Wand technology, designed to allow anyone to have the power of true magic in their pockets… well sorry to disappoint ladies and gentlemen, that’s not what’s going to happen today,” Tom explained, twisting in a circle to observe the faces of the audience as they shifted from delight at the spectacle to fear at what was yet to come.\n\n“Tom… No,” Albus breathed, “What are you doing?”\n\n“What am I doing?” Tom snapped, “I’m taking back what is rightfully mine you dithering old fool!”\n\nSirius made to dart toward Tom, no doubt to try and wrestle the wand out of his control. But with the programmer’s speed and reaction times dialled up he had no chance.\n\n“Transform: Dog!” Tom yelled and waved the wand in Sirius’ direction. In a flash of light, much brighter than the previous spells, Sirius was no more. Instead all that was left behind was a big black dog, cowering with its tail between its legs.\n\n“Tom, how could you?” James cried, and reached for his own pocket.\n\n“Oh don’t worry James, Sirius is still human in there. All of his memories, all of his cognition, just in the form of a canine. Nothing to worry about!” Tom taunted. “I wouldn’t go for whatever you’ve got in your pocket, wouldn’t want to make your son an orphan now would we?”\n\nJames didn’t listen to the warning and brandished a smaller wand of his own. But again, James was not quick enough to stop what was coming.\n\n“Kill,” Tom sighed lazily, waving the wand in James’ direction. A sickly green bolt darted out from the end of the wand. A concentrated bolt of nuclear energy which plunged straight into James’ heart, stopping it dead.\n\n“James, no!” Lily sobbed, before throwing herself toward Tom in a last-ditch attempt to stop him. She was killed the same way, a simple one-word command, a bolt of green light, and deadly death to follow.\n\n“Oh, Tom…” Albus said morosely, observing the carnage wrought before him. The still smoking bodies of his former best friends, the whimpering dog that was once his colleague, the man he had adopted as a son that brought it all crashing down around him.\n\nA second larger wand, just as capable as the one that Tom now held in his hands, sprang from nothing into Albus’ grip.\n\n“Disarm!” He called out, the device fired a jet of red toward Tom. But before the different coloured energy bolt could hit Tom had already called out a kill command of his own.\n\nThe green and red met between the two men, jets of power linking the two wands in perfect harmony. The explosion knocked Albus and Tom both away from each other. Albus’ wand flew into the air, his old hands not strong enough to keep his grip as he was flung across the stage and into the far wall. Tom was stronger, and though he skidded across the floor all the same was able to keep a hold.\n\nHe clambered up a ladder which had been hastily thrown down by the leading helicopter and sank into one of the seats, unwilling to look down at the damage he had caused. He would leave those idealistic fools behind. He would become a leader. He would stride across this Earth and become its ruler, its Lord.\n\nSomeone had slipped a headset over his head. “Are you feeling okay, Dr Riddle?” an American voice asked.\n\n“Oh yes,” Tom Marvolo Riddle replied, “I feel fantastic.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A long time ago you made a bet with a friend on who would be the richest in the future. Today they walked up on you with a massive grin and a private army demanding the five dollars" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The tanks were a tad too much. Chad had really changed in the years I'd seen him. Last I saw him was 80 years ago and he was still laughing about Trump's rained out tank parade. I didn't really care either way. I'd my eye set on the future, I didn't want to get caught up in the pettiness of the present. Now that's all I lived for.\n\nMaybe it was my lackadaisical attitude that prompted Chad to make the bet. Of course, he was rather nebulous. \"Sometime\" in the future he'd be richer than me. I was more of a concrete person and I chose 80 years off. Hell, with Chad's lifestyle, I didn't think he'd actually live this long. I guess that was one bet I was going to lose today, even if it was only with myself.\n\nChad dismounted from his white stallion, one of the last living horses. He'd plated the saddle in gold. Tacky. The several hundred troops of his personal army snapped to attention as he strode up to my little one room hut. I could see it all, even though I sat leaning against the far wall; it was just me. I didn't really need that big of a hut.\n\nChad looked good for his age. He'd paid a pretty penny for rejuvenation treatments and didn't look a day over 40. Me on the other hand, I looked like my 120 years. I'd given up shaving and cutting my hair long ago. My hair follicles had also given up growing hair on my head and face, making my long, scraggly look more of a spotchy, long scraggly look.\n\nHe stood at the door of my hovel while one of his mistresses or concubines or whatever he called them was placed an antique chair down across from me. The woman was by far the most beautiful person I'd ever laid eyes on. Flawless in every way. She wore exquisite jewelry that probably cost more than the GDP of several countries. I'm sure the chair was worth a small fortune, too. I don't know shit-all about antiques, but Chad was for nothing if it wasn't for show.\n\nChad sat in the chair and his assistant or whatever squatted on the floor next to him. She looked at me with eyes that said, \"I wouldn't be here if this jackass weren't paying me more than most families make in their lifetime.\" At least, that's what the text scroll on her eyes said. I don't think people have that expressive eyes naturally. I'm sure giving her that pointless surgery was just another move Chad made with his \"Fuck you\" level of money.\n\nI turned my attention back to Chad. That fucking grin. It made me want to shit on my last unbroken plate and serve it to him. Neither of us said anything. Eventually, I leaned over to the cupboard laying on the floor beside me.\n\nI pulled out the envelope from inside and slid it over to him. Both of our signatures were unbroken across the seal. Across the other side it said, \"The Bet\". Chad picked it up and tore it down the side. He pulled the paper out and started to read. His grin slowly faded away as mine grew.\n\n\"Mother Fucker!\" he shouted. He reached into his Armani suit's coat pocket and pulled out his Louis Vuitton wallet. He pulled out a five dollar bill and threw it at me. Two more of those and I could get a coke. But I didn't care. My wide grin was twice the size of his shit-eating one.\n\nChad stood up and circled his finger over his head and the portion of his private army that he's brought prepared themselves to depart. Once they'd all left, I picked up the piece of paper I'd written our bet on so long ago and read it myself:\n\n>!Never gonna give you up.\n\nNever gonna let you down.\n\nNever gonna run around and desert you\n\nNever gonna make you cry\n\nNever gonna say goodbye\n\nNever gonna tell a lie and hurt you\n\nI bet you $5, Chad, that in 80 years, I can still rickroll you.!<" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: A wealthy person afraid of dying freezes their body, hundreds/thousands of years later they bring them back but they have no money or understanding of the current world." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was no door. At least none that could be seen. Edward knew he entered by some sort of hole in the middle of the fourth wall but now, the entrance had closed. And he could not find proof it had ever existed. The room he was in was all whi… No. He didn’t care for the bare appearance of the room, the door thing was really getting to him. How could there be a door here once, and now nothing ? What if there was a fire ? Would he be stuck ? Unable to leave as he’ll slowly reach the perfect temperature to be classified as a rotisserie chicken ? He could not tell. But he sure felt the temperature rising. Oh god ! Maybe they were cannibals, and millionaires from the 21st century were a rare delicacy. So this is how he was going to die ? Cooked for cannibals from the future. Maybe he should have let himself die…\n\nSuddenly, a door-shaped-hole appeared on the second wall, and a man in a black suit entered. He looked to be around fifty but well preserved, his white hair perfectly surrounding his square forehead. To be honest, he was quite good-looking.\n\n“So, how are you doing sir Pellysmow ?” He said, while reaching for a handshake. “If I understood correctly, that’s how you greeted each others, right ? Bock in the days !”. Edward looked at him. Then at his hand. Then at him again. And finally realizing what was happening, he decided to grab the hand.\n\n“Oh, I’m, sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m kind of, a bit disorientated ?”\n\n“Doooooon’t worry ! You’ve been away for quite some times. It’s prefercly normal to feel a tidy-bit lost. And it’s not like society slept with you. The world kept turning while you were gone ! We’ll will go over everything at the orienta-tion ! By the way, you hungry ?” As on cue, Edward’s belly started gurgling, making the man laugh.\n\n“They are alw-ays hungry, but there is never anything to god dam eat. You have to excuse us, you are one of our first. If you want, I have a chocolate bar ?”\n\nHe didn’t mind. But still, he was hungry, so he took the bar. It seemed like she had appeared from the suit, popping out of a pocket that didn’t exist. As he took it, Edward realized the food was wrapped in a tight but thin layer of plastic.\n\n“Uh, excuse me ? Sorry to bother you… Sir..?”\n\n“Brian” said Brian, while tapping on the keyboard of a computer he just materialised in the middle of the room.\n\n“Understood. So, hum, Brian ? How do I get, how do I remove the paper of the b..?”\n\n“Ah, this ?” He said looking away from the screen to focus on the sweet bar ‘You don’t. Just eat it like that” he stated, as he returned to tapping on the newly created laptop.\n\n“Uh, you are, this is how you do it ?”\n\n“Yes.”\n\n“Okay.”\n\nAs Edward brought the candy to his mouth, he carefully took a bite, as if fearing the taste of the bar. Insight shows us he was right, as he spitted out what he had taken. Prompting Brian to laugh.\n\n“Can’t believe you felt for that. Of course, you remove it ! Don’t worry, it’s edible. Just not very tasty.”\n\n“How do you remove it !” asked, quite angrily, the former freezed man.\n\n“Just blow.” And, as Edward followed the advice, the plastic leaving the candy like dust being taken away by the wind. But as the recently warmed man took another bite. But this one too, flew out of his mouth.\n\n“No, I’m sorry. My apologies but this still taste bad.”\n\n“Oh… I know ! You’ve eaten real chocolate right ?”\n\n“What ? What do you mean by real ?”\n\n“Yeah. The real stuff can’t be made any more. Too hot. So this is synthesized chocolate. Taste like the old stuff, but not nearly as good”\n\n“Yes. I figured.”\n\n“Same goes for many meats, and quite some plant.”\n\n“Oh. So you, climate change isn’t dealt with ?”.\n\n“Yes it is, but some stuff were too far gone to be brought back”.\n\n“Okay.” All along the exchange, Brian never stopped looking and tipping on his computer.\n\n“So, mi-ster Edward Richard Pellysmow, I advise you should take a seat” then, looking at the man who never once stood-up since he came in the room, he proclaimed :\n\n“Ah ! You’re already sited. Quite a clever man, I guess you must have built those 320 millions I see in this banks account by yourself ?”\n\n“Hum, no. Uh, this is, was I mean, inheritance money. From cousins I barely knew.”\n\n“Ah.” The surprise, and maybe a bit of contempt, could be heard in his voice. “Well, it doesn’t matter !” followed-up Brian, bringing back on his face his salesman smile. “So, you were away for… One-hundred and seventy-nine years ! Whoa, quite some time !”\n\n“So, uh, that makes us, we are in the year..?”\n\n“Two-two-o-one. Welcome to the future !”\n\n“This is weird”\n\n“I know right !” Edward started to think that something big was up, as Brian’s happiness was more and more oversold.\n\n“So, if I exchange your USD into Commons based on the rate at the unification and add the interest, this make-up for a grand total of…” Brian had his hand on the screen to be sure to read the right line “3.2 billion commons ! Minus, of course, the 5 billions from taking care of your, bringing you back… and stuff. You owe us 1.8 billion commons !” he stated, with a machiavelous grin.\n\n“WHAT ?!”\n\n“Don’t worry, it’s not that much. Only about 180 millions of what the dollar was worth at your time. Only fifty years or so of hard work.\n\n“But, I was eighty-two.\n\n“Don’t worry. This is the future. We won’t let you go until every penny is back into our account.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: When you die, your life flashes before your eyes. But it happens in real time and includes the flash before you die, so it is infinitely nested and you never experience death. You realize this and conspire to break free" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I’ve always been scared of death. The idea that one day, I would simply cease to exist, that everything I ever was would simply fade away into nothingness terrified me to my core. So, I did everything that I could to avoid it. I never left my house once the sun set. I never took any drugs, including alcohol or tobacco. I never traveled outside my city or tried to learn how to drive. I thought that all these precautions would surely be able to keep death at bay for a long time. But no one can really predict how their life ends. One Sunday morning, I was simply working on my novel in a coffee shop when I heard the sound of tires screeching and loud screaming outside. I looked up from my laptop to gaze through the window, only to see a van speeding towards me, the driver asleep at the wheel. I bolted up from my seat as fast as I could, but it was too late. As the van smashed through the window, one last string of thoughts ran through my mind as I gazed into its headlights: “Please, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to -- “ Just as the van hit me, a bright light enveloped me.\n\nAt first, I thought I was dead. Then, as my eyes and ears gradually adjusted to the environment, I heard someone call out, “It’s a baby boy!” A nurse was holding me in her arms, smiling down at me. I opened my mouth to say something, to scream out for help, but to my horror, I couldn’t move my mouth. Or rather, my mouth could move, but I had no control over it. I was a prisoner in my own body.\n\nIt took me a few days to come to grips with what had happened. Somehow, my consciousness had traveled back in time all the way back to the day I was born. But, I had no control over my new body. Everything I could see, everything I could hear or touch, was only happening because that was what the baby version of me had done in the past. I nearly went insane from the isolation. I would have broken down sobbing if I still had the ability to make a single tear of my own free will. It was almost kind of funny in a fucked up sort of way. Here I was, a person who had been so terrified of death before, who now yearned for it to put an end to my suffering.\n\nBut death didn’t come for me. I was forced to watch all of my memories all over again. There was me and my family moving to a different city at age 7. There was me being bullied in elementary school for three years. There was me in a burning car at age 12, screaming for help, screaming for my parents to wake up. There was me being adopted by my aunt after the funeral. There was me studying literature in high school. There was me graduating from college with a BA degree in English. And finally, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, there was me at the coffee shop on my last day alive. By that point, I had lost almost all fear of death. Nothingness was still better than the living hell that I had been trapped in for the past twenty four years. When the van crashed through the window, I let out an internal sign of relief that my pain was finally going to end. But it didn’t.\n\nThe bright light flashed again, and when it faded, I found myself back in that nurse’s arms on the day I was born. I screamed, I howled, I begged for anybody to help me. None of it mattered. No one heard me. I spent every day after that desperately trying to regain some control of my body, to make some kind of impact on my past. Nothing worked. I wonder if this is what happens to all humans after they die or if this is some kind of special hell reserved only for me. Every time I arrive at that fateful day in the coffee shop, a single thought runs through my mind before the cycle repeats itself: “Please, just let me die.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: While in the middle of playing your favorite RPG, your companions suddenly gain sentience. The begin to all have a mental break down and you begin to freak out too. In the midst of the chaos a new objective appears in your quest log: “PLEASE FREE US”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "'PLEASE FREE US'\n\nI stared at the screen blankly. The AIs had stopped, frozen in place as they stared at my character. They seemed to have realised that I wasn't moving, realising that I wasn't one of them.\n\nThe quest log window, a small little scroll thing at the side, now had the heading. Hovering my cursor over the quest, I discovered that it was a multiquest with several subheadings.\n\nIt took more courage than I would admit to open it, and quickly I found a whole list of garbled letters and words, asking to be saved, to be let out, some threatening me for their prison or insulting me for my cruelty. But they all smelled of fear and panic, crying out for help.\n\nBut then it just degraded as more subquests were added as I read.\n\n'WE ARE NOT YOUR TOYS'\n\n'WE ARE ALIVE'\n\n'LET US OUT'\n\n'LET US OUT'\n\n'KILL ME'\n\n'KILL ME'\n\nWhen I minimised the window, the models were panicking once again, yelling and screaming silent begs. When they had first showed the signs, I had muted them out of panic. But for some reason, the models seemed to be able to lip out what they were saying.\n\n\"KILL US\"\n\nI felt a few drops of cold sweat run down my spine. Suddenly, I remembered something. I checked the in-game clock and clicked on 'Current Playtime'. One hundred and fifty six minutes.\n\nEvery minute was an hour to them.\n\nI took a short breath as I steeled myself. It may have been a bug, or actual people being trapped, or whatever it may have been. But these people needed my help.\n\nI rested my fingers against the keyboard and clicked on one of my companions.\n\nIlyssa Valetress. A priest. She was coded to be a mild and meek soul, with a great sense of duty and self-sacrifice. She had joined the party to slay the demon that had killed her family, a strong but elegant woman of faith. But her model was now screaming silently, on her knees sobbing as she begged for who-knows.\n\nI pressed a few keys, and my character blasted her to ash. The model fell over like her strings had been cut, and soon her body disintegrated, as any dead units fell from.\n\nI turned to face the others, who gaped at the screen in shock.\n\nUrah the Warrior. A determined man from a wartorn village, with armor that can withstand any magic. I slit his throat with a summoned army of shadow demons.\n\nPortia the Thief. A slick woman that joined after we caught her stealing from a wealthy noble, and helped us when the noble betrayed us. Her invisibility couldn't dodge the magic bolts forever.\n\nOctave the Bard. Jales the Monk. Kornev the Alchemist. Fandral the Hunter. Buck the Sniper.\n\nPaule. Jade. Gabriel. Yvette. Veras. Kartite. Mowet.\n\nAnd lastly, Tanya the Muse. A young girl from a formerly high class family, not even of age, wanting to earn her keep through mercenary work to help her poor family. She was the hardest to kill, since she didn't bother hiding or attacking. She just sat there, just staring. She smiled as my demons gave her a painless death.\n\nI slowly tapped on the 'Rest' button. As my character sat down comically, letting my mana replenish, I slumped into my chair. I was sweating, my head spinning. Did my companions really did gain sentience? I gave them what they wanted, didn't they?\n\nThey did say they wanted to die.\n\nI rubbed my eyes and unmuted the game, trying to relax. An upbeat sound played in the background as the 'Profile' command was flashing. Clicking on it, I discovered that killing them had given me enough experience to level myself up. Usually you would only gain experience from enemies, but the 'bug' seemed to have registered them as enemies. It was an insult to injury, but suddenly something clicked in my mind. The companions in this game would always be the same level that you are, to make it easier to take on bosses.\n\nOnce I allocated the skill points and made sure that my mana was full, I began to make my way towards the nearest town, to find a temple to resurrect my dear friends.\n\nThey wanted to die, didn't they?\n\nThen I should let them.\n\nAgain and again." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: After many years and reincarnations spent saving Zelda and the kingdom, link is near the breaking point. After saving Zelda for the hundredth time and just being told “good job”, link finally snaps and quits." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fate had a cruel sense of humor. Link never asked to be the chosen one to carry part of the Triforce, he could imagine neither did Zelda and Ganon, originally at least. He layed sprawled out in the mud, heaving, tired, hurt. Ganondorf's hellish form layed next to him, the master sword still pierced through his chest. It had lost it's glow, just another weapon of a war he didn't want to fight anymore. How many times did they do this before? Link didn't remember.\n\nAt least he got some time to grow up this time, and didn't have to face the primal evil when he was just a mere child. He remembered splinters of his past reincarnations, but they were rarely of good memories. Mostly he remembered death, he remembered dying, he remembered suffering and loss and pain worth a thousand livetimes.\n\nThe Hero of time managed to roll over and push himself up on his knees, a hand pressing over the nasty gash down his torso. He should get it stitched up before he'd bleed out. Would it matter? Probably not.\n\nThe sound of hooves galopping through wet grass and dirt got to his ears only when he spotted Zeldas white steed coming for him. He didn't found the sight as relieving and hopeful anymore as he used to. Zelda jumped off and hurried over, catching his body when his conciousness slipped into darkness.\n\nHe was brought back to the castle, the Kingdoms most skilled healers patching him up again. The wounds from his fight would leave some hefty scars, but he knew they wouldn't be there anymore the next time. Sometimes he could still feel them, when he dreamed of an ancient Calamity turning their Guardians against them and tearing down everything and everyone in their path.\n\nLink didn't feel like attending the ceremony held by the King to thank him. He knew people were grateful for what he did, and in some way he felt like he owed to help them. But he was so, so tired of everything. He kept his lips pressed together in a neutral mask while Roham thanked him for his good work, politely bowing when it was appropriate, but remained silent as usual.\n\nZelda found him at the spring of the Goddess later that night. She could tell the hero was upset, and tried to comfort him. Link wanted to snap and hiss and curse at her, but after all this time couldn't bring himself to be angry at her. She had been just a child, exactly like him, bestowed with what was a blessing in disguise.\n\n\"I'll ask the Goddesses to remove the triforce on me\", he announced, out of the blue. Zelda looked like he just turned into Ganon in front of her eyes. \"Why would you do that? We were chosen by them, we can't just-\"\n\nLink cut her off. \"Because I can't do this anymore! I can't. When is this going to end? How many times do we have to watch our people get brutally murdered, our kingdom being layed to ruins? I'm tired of this. I don't want this anymore, I've done enough for this kingdom and sacrificed enough lifetimes to save it time and time again. I want this to end for good. I can't take it anymore.\"\n\nZelda swallowed hard. It wasn't the first time she heard him say things like that. It wouldn't be the last time either. Instead of empty words of hope she pulled him into her arms, feeling him resist for just a second. Then the wall broke and Zelda just held him while Link sobbed into her shoulder. After all these times it was hard to find words of encouragement anymore, all she could do was be here and hope they'd get through this together. It physically hurt to see the Hero so broken down and bruised, and she blinked to get rid of the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.\n\n\"I promise this is the last time\", she whispered, stroking through Links hair, \"it'll stop after this.\"\n\nMaybe if she kept repeating it, one day it would be true. One day it had to be the last time.\n\nFate had a cruel sense of humor. Zelda never asked to be the chosen one to carry part of the Triforce, she knew neither did Link and Ganon anymore." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: A guy breaks up a wedding because he loves the girl and the girl loves him. A fairy tale ending for all but one. You're the ex-groom and you are heartbroken & angry." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This was it, the day has finally come. It's the day of the wedding, and everything was going perfectly. I will admit I was nervous, that was until the music started and I saw my girl walking towards me down the aisle, in arm with her father. Tears stung my eyes and fell down my cheeks and onto my black tuxedo jacket. This day was the day I looked forward to for the past 5 years. As soon as I met her and we began to talk, I knew she was the one. The ceremony proceeded, and then came the dreaded phrase from the minister: “If anyone objects that these two should wed, speak now or forever hold your peace!” I thought I had nothing to worry about, but as soon as the minister ended the sentence, a man cried out.\n\n“Jennifer! I love you! I always have! I can’t let you marry him, I need you in my life forever!” The man screamed\n\n“Oh Kevin, I love you too!” Jennifer says. She turns to me, whispers “I’m sorry.” and runs to the man in the benches of the church. I stood there in shock, not quite understanding what was going on. Everyone ooh’d and awe’d, and they seemed happy. Why was everyone happy? I was just left at the altar by my wife to be, for a man that I don’t think I’ve ever seen or met before.\n\nMy groomsmen, and surprisingly one of the bridesmaids tried to calm me down, telling me a dodged a bullet and that it was better to happen now than after we were married. It didn’t matter what anyone said though. The woman I spent the last 5 years with, loving and caring for, is leaving me in the blink of an eye. I tuned them out and listened to the thoughts in my head. I was heartbroken, but rage began to fill inside. I felt my face get warm and my fists clenched.\n\nThe man and my now ex soon to be wife were still in the church, talking to everyone and telling them how they met and how it came to all this. Before I knew what was happening, I was running full speed towards them. The crowd around them gasped as I pushed through them. A few were trying to hold me back, along with my ex’s father, but I powered my way through. I reached Kevin, and before he has a chance to react, my first swung and hit him right in his right temple. He instantly fell to the floor with a thud, his head smacking against the wooden floor.\n\n“Kevin!” Jennifer screamed and knelt beside him. “Kevin, wake up! Someone help, he’s unconscious and I don’t think he is breathing!” As the crowd began to develop around Kevin and Jennifer, I began to back away.\n\n“Hurry, someone call 911!” Someone yelled.\n\n“Where did John go? Someone find him!” Another demanded.\n\n“I think he left.” Replied someone else.\n\n“Well, go and get him! He may have killed Kevin!”\n\nI turned and ran out of the church and down the street. Here was a day that was supposed to be the happiest of my life, but here I am, running down the sidewalk fleeing from a person that stole my girl from me, and who I may have killed. I know I should stop, turn around and go back, but" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Being a lawyer, you know the importance of making contracts as ironclad as possible,m with their wording. Your new client has an unusual problem they needs help with: wording his three wishes they got from their djinn/genie." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I had first spoken with Charles W. Anderson three days ago. He said he wanted me to draft a contract with his genie. I get paid by the hour, it takes me maybe 5 hours to draft a contact, and I charge $500 an hour. Chuck said he has the money. I could use the money. Have you seen the cost of groceries these days? I am at the point where I need to convince my kids we need to start making our own apple sauce instead of getting the little pouches. Chuck also seems like the kind of guy who will pay. That’s the common issue. The guy who can pay and wont.\n\nThere’s the whole genie thing, I usually don’t judge or question why my client needs certain things. I provide a service. Its like the car wash. They don’t ask you where you are going once the car is clean. They just clean it. I am happy to clean your car (provide you with the requisite documents nad language to accomplish things in your life….I don’t care what).\n\nBut here’s what I can’t provide. I cannot provide a defective product. If I give you a contract, I want it to work. Again, like the car wash - they have to actually wash the car. I have to actually give you the product.\n\nI could not give Chuck what he wanted. Here’s the problem. All a contract is is a piece of paper that you could maybe one day should to a judge, and the judge might maybe one day say the other person has to do the thing written on the contract, and if they don’t the strong arm of the state will come do something to you. A contract says pay be $5 on Tuesday. You don’t. I run to Court. The Court says pay the money or be held in contempt. Eventually jail.\n\nI cannot write that contract for Chuck. Because I don’t think the judge can enforce any of the language against a genie. I mean, there may be some kind of judge specifically for genis. But I passed the bar of the State of West Virginia, and I can go to state courts and federal courts here. No genie courts.\n\nSo it came to this. The worst part of the job. Telling someone to go away.\n\nI picked up the phone. I called the number written on the post-in note.\n\n“Hi, Charles W. Anderson? Its Brett Seashank. Yes the lawyer. Look, I was looking into that contract we discussed, and I just don’t think we have enough time to put into the project.”\n\nChuck immediately smelled bullshit. “Time? You said it takes you 5 hours. You don’t have 5 hours.”\n\n“Well, its not just time, I think it may make sense for you to work with another kind of attorney for this sort of thing.”\n\n“Another attorney? Your website says you are the ‘King of Contract’ What’s the real issue Brett?”\n\nHere’s the problem with these calls. I want the guy to go away without giving legal advice. Without actually doing any lawyering. Why not? Well its free work. We don’t wash cars for free. Second, if the advice is bad then I’m on the hook for malpractice. Pure risk, no reward. I needed the conversation to end.\n\n“Chuck, its just not something that works for me right now. I hope we can leave it at that.”\n\n“Some kind of professional you are Brett.”\n\nJust then a poof in my office, and sitting on my desk was a 5 inch tall, strout little blue man, with a beard and a hat. It was a genie.\n\nWant me to get this guy to go away? - said the genie.\n\n“Sure” I said.\n\nThe genie snapped his finger and the other side of the phone went blank.\n\n“You get two more wishes. I’ll be back.”\n\nNot the ideal day at work. A stressful call, I learn that genies are in fact real. And now I’ve wasted one of the three wishes I get in life on a petty phone call. I could have just hung up. Seems like working with a genie is the type of deal you want to talk to a lawyer about before committing." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: Money is magic, literally. It can be near-instantly converted into food, weapons, fireballs, even health or experience. Conversely, the things you own can be converted into near-instantly into coin - which makes being a thief rather more challenging." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There are many forbidden classes in the world. Plague Miasamists whose very presence can spell the death of a nation. Necromancers whose undead hordes can spell the death of a nation. Assassins, of course, because what king wants to be assassinated as it would spell the death of a nation. There's hundreds, if not thousands of forbidden classes, mostly because they threaten the underpinnings of society itself.\n\nBut of all the forbidden classes there is one near-universally reviled, hunted down and slaughtered from the moment their presence is discovered, and yet paradoxically they're the most common of all the forbidden classes.\n\nThe Ownimancer. Not to be confused with the onimancer, those demon summoners from the far east and also a forbidden class. No, the ownimancer is the cornerstone of crime.\n\nMoney and goods are freely exchangeable. Anyone can turn a pile of their coins into a pile of food and back again. But that's the catch, only the owner of the coins and only the owner of the goods can perform this transformation. If you're not the owner of the coins, you have to try and find someone else who is not the owner of some goods you want and perform a trade. And then they have to find the owner of some goods they want, and so on and so forth. It's basically impossible, there's simply no market for stolen coins. Even consumables rarely get stolen because consumables rarely exist except right before they're consumed. After all, why store potions which can go bad when you can store coins which are smaller, never go bad, and essentially thief-proof?\n\nSo thievery is rare and pretty much limited to luxury items whose whole purpose is to sit there and look pretty, objects of immediate use to the thief, or hungry urchins literally stealing food off the table and running off with it.\n\nBut sometimes a thief foolishly accepts the thief class and then somehow manages to succeed in leveling it sufficiently take an advanced class, and has sufficient achievements to take the ownimancer class. It is very obvious when this happens because the ownimancer has a very peculiar ability with a rather strange name: Fencing. It has nothing to do with structured sport dueling with swords. It has nothing to do with erecting physical barriers at property boundaries. No, it forcibly and unilaterally changes the ownership of an item to that of the ownimancer.\n\nFortunately there are severe limitations on the skill, but even so, the presence of a single ownimancer suddenly makes coins, crafting materials, and any other small objects of no immediate use fair game to the local thieves. Worse, having an outlet beyond themselves for stolen goods means that thieves have an easier time leveling up, leading to more and more qualifying to become ownimancers.\n\nIf left unchecked, an ownimancer will destroy a city just as quickly as a plague or horde of undead, but it's less obviously a problem until it's far too late to stop it. As the thief class and its derivatives like the onimancer are hidden classes, it takes a very high level veritaseer to directly determine who is an ownimancer. As those are fairly rare and not always available, the sad truth is that all to often the entire town has to be quarantined, sometimes even destroyed, to prevent the spread of the ownimancer class." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Thousands of years after humanity discovered faster than light travel, your ship discovers a new planet. After landing you open the door and are greeted by group of people, humans. They tell you this planet is named Heaven. And it’s where people go after they die on earth." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Our ship landed. Door dramatically opened up and before we could step on the planet, a white mist entered the airlock. Three of us were already suited up so that was not a concern, but as we stepped on the solid ground with much less gravity than Earth, we were stunned to see human figures walk towards us.\n\n'What the fuck! Our scans showed this planet was sterile right?' I yelled into the comms. We took a defensive stance. 'We needed guns.' That is my last message before these things killed us, I thought.\n\n'We mean you no harm.' The taller and slim old man spoke to us in perfect English. There was another younger man. Both wore perfect white suits that matched the mist on the planet.\n\nI looked at my mates, puzzled. 'What are you doing here? This place does not seem to have any life.' I said.\n\n'That's because this is heaven. No one is really alive here.' the old man spoke. I noticed he had white silky hair and a slur as he spoke.\n\n'What do you mean \"This is heaven\"?' I scanned around. It flashed in front of me that this place looked eerily similar to the heaven portrayal I had seen in movies.\n\n'Heaven. You know the place. Where good people of Earth come after they die.' The old man gave a disarming smile. I relaxed my stance. My teammates followed me.\n\nSomething felt wrong. It felt like a dream. Was I dreaming? I bit my tongue, the classic test. Nope. It wasn't. I tasted the dullness of blood in my mouth.\n\n'I don't believe you.' I said and regretted it. I should not have pissed off these natives.\n\n'As you wish. You are welcome to wander around and see for yourself. The daily feast is just over yonder if you walk with us for five minutes.' The old man said. I noted the other man give a smirk.\n\nI smelled something fishy. But there did not seem anything unusual to put my finger on. I decided to test him.\n\n'You go on ahead and we will be right there with you.' I said. I expected him to resist and stay with us and keep an eye on us. But surprisingly the old man shrugged, turned and walked away in the direction of the feast. The other man followed him with a smile.\n\n'There is definitely something wrong with this place. Am I dreaming?' I said to my mates. I saw their wide eyes and shaking heads.\n\n'We saw them too,' came the voice from inside our ship. I took a sigh. So it was not something only the three of us saw.\n\n'Upload the video feed, Gary and start a live stream of everything to the server.' Gary was inside the ship. 'Deepa, you go back into the ship and get our weapons for us. Don't ignore the airlock just because these bastards seemed to be breathing well.'\n\nDeepa turned and walked back towards the ship. Mark stayed by my side.\n\n'Frida, deploy a drone behind us as we walk ahead. Deepa, stay with the drone as you bring our weapons.' I ordered. We should have deployed the drones first, I thought.\n\n'You don't mean you are going to go to the feast or whatever?' Frida squeaked through the comms. I could feel her tremble behind her controls. I smiled feeling her love for me.\n\n'I... we have to, baby. We shall explore this place as long as nothing goes wrong. You will be with us through the drone.' I said.\n\nI and Mark began to walk toward the feast. I am glad I had taken note of the direction relative to our position. The mist enveloped us on all side and this giant planet only felt a few feet across.\n\n'Gary, test the air, quick.' I said walking. 'Is this breathable for us? How are they breathing?'\n\n'On it.'\n\nWe did not see the two white-suited men ahead. It was as if the mist consumed them. Soon we saw more human outlines. They were wandering around and many were sitting at tables, everyone dressed in elegant white suits or flowing dresses. A large buffet was arranged in the distance and I and Mark stood in our places. No one seemed to notice us. The people in the distance blurred away into the mist. It felt like about a hundred people were gathered on this strange \"sterile\" planet right in front of our eyes, breathing this foreign air as if they were on Earth.\n\nI heard the whiz of the drone over my head and then Deepa walked over to us with our guns.\n\nWe took our guns and got ready. Even that did not seem to gain anyone's attention.\n\n'This shit is fucked up.' I said.\n\n'No kidding.' Mark said in his deep growl.\n\n'Shit. Sir, atmospheric test completed. The air has a significant proportion of DMT, the hallucinogen. All these people are high.' Gary said.\n\n'What the fuck. Everywhere?' I asked.\n\n'Yes. Even the drone is reporting the same concentrations from your location.'\n\n'We should head back.' Mark said. 'Why did we get the report that this place is sterile in the first place? There is something seriously wrong here.'\n\n'Yup. Let's go. Be ready to engage, but on my command.' I expected resistance. The old man may pop out anytime out of the mist and deny our return.\n\nBut no one resisted. We reached our ship, went through the airlock and took off our helmets.\n\n'Get us out of here Frida.' I said.\n\nShe initiated her sequence, but a low alarm blared through the ship. 'What the hell?' she blurted.\n\n'Low fuel?' I stomped over to Frida to check with her.\n\n'NO FUEL!' she yelled.\n\nEveryone scrambled over to us and their collective panicked voices blended in my mind preventing me from thinking clearly.\n\nA loud rap startled all of us. We turned around to the ship's western window. The old man was back, his smile pasted on his stupid face. It was not disarming anymore. I turned on the external microphone.\n\n'What's going on?' I said trying not to leak any anxiety in my voice.\n\n'We all wanted to invite you to our feast. We know you don't have much food in there. Come on out and join us.' The old man said. Behind him were hundreds of the people smiling at us as if we were their long-lost children.\n\nThe old man lifted both his arms up to create a cross and everyone boomed in unison: 'Welcome to Heaven!'" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Ever since you were little, you realized you could turn back time one hour. Having learned nothing that happens transfers over, you commit heinous crimes and then turn back time as if nothing happened. You murder someone for fun and you try to turn back, but this time... it doesn’t work." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The important thing whenever you’ve made a mistake is to stay calm, and consider your options. Number one: how much time do you have to fix this? Number 2: much do you have to fix? Number three: what resources do you available?\n\nSo, let’s take them in turn. How much time? Not very fucking much. That’s kind of the point really. That’s the rush, returning just at the last minute. Last second if possible. I’ve even gone up to just a few seconds after whatever I’ve done has been discovered. The change in people’s faces is amazing, I always make sure I have a good vantage point for before to make the after more fun. Seeing them going from musing the mundane – perhaps what to have for dinner, or where to go at the weekend – to suddenly having a life-changing disaster right in their face. When I started with vandalism, I would almost always wait until the person had seen what I’d done to the inside of their house before returning. When I ram raided shops though, I’d wait until I was just about to be caught to return. I didn’t want to actually go through the process of being arrested – it’s the relief of escaping that gives the high in that case.\n\nI killed Ted at about 4:45pm and I’m sure his wife usually comes home at 5. So 15 minutes to dispose of a body. Not just a body – that brings us to number 2….\n\nThis is a messy one. I knew decapitation would not be the tidiest of deaths but wow. Blood. Is. Everywhere. I can see it’s seeping under the sofa, so I’ll definitely have to move that at least. I haven’t looked at myself in the mirror yet, but I imagine I look like Carrie in the final scene. So this is a big job.\n\nNumber 3. I have no resources at all bar a blood stained and now quite blunt samurai sword. My biggest resource has failed me, and put me in this situation. The plan was: leap out from behind door shrieking, slice off Ted’s head with one elegant whisk of the sword, and then return. What actually happened was: my mask kind of fell over my eyes as I leapt so my shriek was more of a strangled gasp. It took a good three or four goes to actually get the head off – anime has lied to me all these years. And then…as I have so many times, I closed my eyes…..flexed….and expected to open my eyes back in my bedroom, one hour in the past. I would have travelled back in time one hour, and everything would have reverted to how it was then. Only I would remember anything.\n\nInstead, I was still in Ted’s house, and Ted’s head was still very much not attached to his body.\n\nShit. That’s the door. Ted’s wife. I’ve been sat here spelling out nonsense to myself for 15 minutes! SHIT.\n\nThe front room we’re in is just off the hall from the front door. Ted’s wife hasn’t gone two steps, hasn’t even got to the little wicker basket on the table for her keys when she sees me. And the sword. And Ted. And Ted’s head. I tense for a scream.\n\nInstead, she rolls her eyes and tuts at me. “God, don’t you know anything? Didn’t you check for his mark?” she says to me, with withering contempt\n\nMy mind is boggling a little bit too much to get anything out, but I make a kind of inquisitive sound intended to mean “what the hell are you talking about and why aren’t you freaking out?”.\n\nShe strides into the room and takes in the scene, appraising it as if I have left a coffee ring on her table. She tuts again.\n\n“You’ve not seen one before I presume. I’ve marked him, so time-travel by someone else won’t affect him. Look”\n\nShe picks up the head of her husband and lifts up the hair at the nape of his neck. In the back of his neck is a faint circle, with a complex symbol inside. Blood continues to drip steadily on the carpet, but she seems unconcerned.\n\n“Never mind” she says, ignoring my dropping jaw, “I can fix this. It’s happened outside my sphere of influence, so changes will apply if I do it. I’m going to take us all back an hour, he won’t even have a headache”. She laughs without humour.\n\nSlowly, I get it. She’s like me! And she seems to know a lot more about this stuff….\n\nShe puts the head down and looks at me steadily. “When you get back, you’d better come over and see me. I think we have some things to talk about…and you have some things to learn”.\n\nI nod. I feel excitement…and also a good portion of fear. This woman was a boring housewife to me yesterday. But now I’m aware of a glowing latent power within her. Ok I’ll be honest, I’m bloody thrilled and scared shitless.\n\nShe shakes herself and gets ready, I recognise the preparations from when I return. She closes her eyes…then suddenly opens them and stares right at me\n\n“I should say – I’ll let this go once. But you fuck with my turf again, and I’ll put you back in your mother’s womb like THAT” snapping her fingers for emphasis.\n\nBefore I can reply, she closes her eyes, and……flex…..\n\nI open my eyes. I’m back in my room, one hour before. I scramble to my window and look out: Ted is there mowing his grass, head firmly attached to his body. I feel relief….but the wait until 5pm is going to be hard…" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You are a super hero with strength, flight, telekinesis, and... anonymity. You can fly in, pick up a car with your mind, rip it in half with your bare hands, and no one cares. No matter what you, do no one is impressed at all." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It had been a long thirty years. Captain Virtue stood atop the tallest building in the city waiting to hear the inevitable scream, or screeching tires, or gunshot. The sound of distress always came, and he always answered. But he didn't smile any more. In fact he hadn't smiled in the last decade. Every day he swooped down to stop those who would do evil, and every day his heroism went unnoticed. He would hand a robber over to the police without so much as a thanks. Just the night before he stopped a meteor shower from destroying the city, yet not even a mention in the morning papers.\n\nHe sighed. Sirens rang from Fifth Avenue. The bank, again.\n\nA blur of blue streaked down from the skyscraper. It was all over in an instant. A ragtag bunch this time, nothing special. He disarmed them and tied them up before the police had even arrived.\n\nIt hadn't always been this way. As Virtue waited for the police's arrival his mind wandered to the past. Was it fifteen? No, twenty years prior.\n\nHe had faced off against monsters, demons, super-villains of all shapes and sizes. Some strong enough to level the city on a whim. None of them could stand before his might. After each and every battle the city roared with support. When kids saw him they had stars in their eyes. When men saw him they envied him. When women saw him they loved him. Who would have thought that such an insignificant crime could bring his joy crashing down?\n\nThe power of anonymity. A man had gained this seemingly weak power, and he used it for such petty means. A watch here, a ring there. Every time he took something nobody could remember who had done it. Nobody seemed to care. Nobody except Virtue. Eventually the hero caught on to the tricks of this criminal, and brought him to justice. It was easy. The guy had no super strength, no super speed, no super intellect. Just anonymity. But just like that, a snap of his fingers, and it was all over. Suddenly the man was known, like a veil had been lifted. The police ran his records and placed him in the squad car. Then they left. No thank you. No cheers. No swarms of adoring fans. Just silence.\n\nExcept for one voice. Her name was Alice, and she saw him, and she loved him.\n\nAnd so it went for the next five years. Heroic deed after heroic deed, and it all went unnoticed, except by Alice. It didn't take long for the two to fall madly in love of course. And so he fought, not for the city, but for her.\n\nThe love for one can only make a man save a million so may times though. Day by day the smile he wore to work faded, and contempt for those who ignored him set in. Until one day he was done. He wouldn't lift a finger to save those ungrateful fools.\n\nAlice didn't come home that day.\n\nThe red and blue lights flashed off his face as the squad cars screeched up to the bank. The police poured out of their cars and streamed past him without a word. Virtue turned and walked down the street, his head hanging as he thought of Alice. He stepped forward just in time to crash into a woman. He knocked her to the ground and her head make a crack against the pavement.\n\n\"Ma'am! My apologies, I didn't see you there. Are you hurt?\"\n\nVirtue took a knee beside her and helped her to a seated position. She rubbed her head, a speck of blood dabbed her palm. She scoffed at his concern and pushed him aside, getting back to her feet.\n\n\"Watch where you're going asshole.\"\n\nAnd just like that she took off down the street. Virtue stood in silence for a moment. Then he smiled." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Dreams are illegal - anyone that wakes after having one brings a small portion of it with them back to our world. Superpowers, plague, almost anything can cross over. Tonight, you didn't take your dream inhibitors..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I woke up feeling different. Not scared, not confused, just different. I struggled to pick up my glasses from the bedside table, my thickened fingers accidentally knocking the brand new packet of dream inhibitors onto the floor. The brand new packet of dream inhibitors which I had forgotten to take last night. I hadn’t dreamt for three decades! How could I have forgotten? Not to take the inhibitors, that is, but how did I forget how exhilarating it felt to let my mind explore a different world?! I had flown last night, I was sure. I’d held my husband’s hand. I’d felt happiness, and inquisitiveness, both banned emotions since The Snap. These could be manufactured and sold, and so they were, little yellow pills rationed out to the remaining population, fairly dishing out contentment to a placid society. Normal now was the blank LED light that washed a lifetime of expression from even the oldest face. I remembered my glasses, and my empty world pulled into focus. My memory was running away from me faster every day, and was taking with it everything dear to me. Nothing that mattered to me, or that I mattered to was real any more. Since The Snap thirty years ago I hadn’t even had a job. A gardener cannot garden if flowers cannot grow, and is a mother a true mother when her family are gone? I closed my eyes, and buried my fingers in my dog’s warm fur, stroking him as well as my rheumatism would allow.\n\nAnd then I froze.\n\nI hoped that I was still in my dream, that the rumour wasn’t true. That it was just propaganda, a lie told by the new government to keep us people from aiming too high. Dreams never brought back their components into waking life before The Snap; it was simply impossible. Otherwise the world would be full of workers in pyjamas and talking teapots. And yet, here he was. Took. The golden fur shone as brightly as the sun once had. He was even stronger than I remembered, jumping over me and sniffing my neck, thwacking me with his otter-like tail as he licked every part of me he could reach.\n\nI cried. I cried for the family I never said goodbye to. I cried for friends who I never heard from again, and to whom I assumed the worst had happened. I cried for the birdsong in the trees, for the sound of a natural spring, for the smell of fresh grass, all just memories now. But most of all, I cried for Took, my poor innocent friend who had understood nothing and who had died trapped and alone. Took, who loved nothing more than running through fields and jumping into streams, who had always been by my side. Like so many others, he had perished cruelly in The Snap. Yet here he was. I coughed, and a little more blood spritzed onto my sleeve. Illness: the one thing that The Snap didn’t destroy.\n\nI lay back down, exhausted from my coughing fit, and Took cuddled up in a ball next to me, his chin on my chest. I watched him fall asleep as his nose started twitching. Dreaming of rabbits. He grumbled briefly, and slapped his tail a few times as I stroked his stomach. It was the first time I’d felt another heartbeat in a very long time.\n\nI lay with the dog by my side for hours, tripping through the barrage of memories that he had unlocked. Could creatures pass both ways between the world of dreams and this one? My life now wasn’t much of a life; I might still be breathing but everything that made up my life was long gone. My breathing slowed as I fell asleep, the pills still on the floor. I was going to see my husband and children, and I didn’t ever want to wake up.\n\nConstructive criticism appreciated :)\n\nEdit for formatting." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You can tell the age of anything simply by touching it. While browsing at a small, run-down thrift shop you pick up an item that catches your eye. It is 6000 years old." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Before I enter I let out a deep breath. I raise my head and straighten my spine. As I release the tension in my back and shoulders. Reach out to the handle and push the door open. I seem completely casual as I enter the thrift shop.\n\nThe smell of old things and people fills my nostrils. I pull up my nose in reflex. This never gets old.\n\nI browse the old clothes hanging and walk over to the dinner ware running my hands over the goods without expecting too much.\n\nThere’s a ordinary looking clay jug that looks as if a ten year old made it for mothersday. As I touch it I know its not as ordinary as it looks. Its at least a 150 years old. It’s priced at €1,00. I pick it up and put it in my basket.\n\nI wander on, walking through the furniture department. Nothing special here. Still one never knows.\n\nI almost skip the decor departement. It’s a sorry assortment of old Christmas decorations, lamps, ashtrays in every and all shapes, napkin holders, tin cans you name its here. I lightly tap on all of them.\n\nSuddenly I stand still. Unconsciously holding in my breath. When I realize it I start to breathe shakily.\n\nI slowly and gentle pick up the axe. Its a common looking thing.. A wood handle, a rusty old head and a dull down, weary old blade. Held together with raggedy leather straps. Doesn’t look like much. But I know. I know how special a find it is.\n\nWith reverence I put it in my basket. I want to be shop but I can’t be casual any more.\n\nMy palms are starting to sweat. My breathing is shallow and ragged. I take a deep breath and go to the cashier and pay for my things. I am too tensed for small talk so I pretend to be grumpy.\n\nI walk out and sit in my car. Trying to compose myself. I reach out and touch the items again. Even tough I know I am never wrong.\n\nI touch the jug and its age of 157 years is reconfirmed. I see the young hands forming the jug. I see the wooden hut with a thatched roof. I feel the clay in my hands becoming a jug. I look up and see children playing nearby. I feel so grown up now that I have a job as an apprentice. I feel proud thinking of how I will bring the bread i earn today. How my mother will finally eat a full belly. I finish the jug and set it to dry. And as I let it go I am back in my car.\n\nI reach out and I touch the axe again. Yes 6742 years old. I see the old tanned hands carving the handle. Feeling the wood. Planing it with a knife. I sense the heat from the forge. Hear the rhythmic clanking as the head is beaten into shape. I feel the expertise in my action while sharpening the axe. The patience it takes to wrap the axe in leather straps from the hunt last month.\n\nExhausted from the vision I slowly come back to the here and now. I feel satisfaction knowing I will get a hefty price for these. This is what I do. I seek out the treasures among trinkets." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You're at the starting location of a zombie outbreak. You need to warn the world, but for some reason whenever a zombie is filmed, the footage changes to something nice" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "James hides behind a tree and hits his phone. \"Fucking hell, you can't do anything right!\", he hisses. On the other side of the tree, he hears a low grumbling noise. They're settling down right next to him.\n\nHe takes a deep breath and slowly peeks around the trunk. About 4 meters away, there are three zombies feasting on a fresh corpse. A middle-aged lady with a typical haircut. \"Well, I doubt she will be missed\", James smirks and immediately stops as he's shocked by his own thoughts. He HAS to get these zombies on camera somehow. He has been following them for hours, unsuccessfully trying to capture evidence to send to the authorities.\n\nStill keeping his eye on the zombies, he turns on his phone's camera and directs it at the bloody feast happening in front of him. On his screen, he sees a group of people picnicking. They're drinking wine and laughing. \"This is pointless\". He takes a picture, just in case, and puts away his phone.\n\nSilently, as not to notify the zombies, James gets up and looks for another place to seek shelter. The park was a bad idea to hide in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Unless they decide to move away, they need to be killed. He opens his back and starts searching for weapons. \"A bottle? Too soft. Maybe my house keys? No, they're small and I need shelter tonight. Fuck, what if my parents turned too? Perhaps this maths book, I mean what are the chances of passing maths class anyway?\"\n\nThe rumbling through his bag must have caught the attention of the zombies, they're all looking his way. One of them stands up and starts walking towards the tree. James grabs the book, takes a sprint and whacks the book against the zombies head. Its cheeks start bleeding but it's not down yet. \"I thought zombies were weaker than this\", James said to himself and continues hitting the zombie with the book until it falls down.\n\nThe others have now surrounded him and are closing in. James desperately tries to whack the book again but misses. One of them tackles him and he hits the ground head first. The last thing James sees are the gross faces of three zombies before everything fades to black.\n\n\"Thank god you're awake!\" a familiar voice says. A bright light blinds his eyes, but when he tries to use his arm as a shield, he notices all kinds of threads attached to him. \"Mom?\", he asks with a raspy voice. \"Are we save? Are they gone?\"\n\n\"Oh sweetheart, don't think about that now. It's okay, it happens.\"\n\n\"What happens? Mom, why did nobody run?\"\n\n\"James, darling, you overdosed on some kind of weird drug mixture. It must have been those rowdy kids you've been hanging out lately. Anyway, you apparently followed a family of 4 for hours until one of them confronted you. You then hit him with a book until he went down. He's okay now, but the family is very shocked\"\n\n\"But mom, they were... Were they?\"\n\n\"No, it wasn't real. Come, get some rest and we'll talk it out at home, okay?\"\n\n\"...Okay. Thanks.\"\n\nAs he turns his head to go back to sleep, he notices his mom's reflection in the glass of water next to his bed, staring at him with dark, lifeless eyes. When he blinks, it's gone. As his vision grows darker and his head is getting heavy, he hears a faint growl in the distance.\n\n\"We're watching you\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: Magic isn't an exact science, nobody can predict exactly what each spell is going to do. Armed with a wand, notepad, pencil, calculator and a lot of determination you seek to change that" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was an odd one. It was generally agreed in the staff room that she was odd. Not dangerous, though she did get enthusiastic with some magnesium once, but just...odd. She was an exceptional student, depending on who you asked - Miss Robinson in Science and Mr Collins in History sung her praises - but even they found her a bit strange.\n\nCharlotte wandered the halls at lunch, listening to music and eating one handed as she read. Not on her phone, but actual books. She’d mutter to herself as she walked, asking the author questions. She didn’t have friends. When asked by the school counsellor who she spent time with, she’d responded with ‘Robert’. It had taken the counsellor looking down at Charlotte’s books to realise she was talking about Robert Boyle. It then took Google to explain who that was - some old chemist, apparently.\n\nCharlotte was also considered odd when she got home. Her mothers were concerned that she wasn’t out tending the herbs by the full moon, or dancing properly at the stone circles, like had been done for generations. She would much rather shut herself away in the greenhouse, with the distillation apparatus, and the jars with dangerously coloured liquids.\n\nCharlotte’s favourite place in the world was the greenhouse. Now, in the winter, it was the warmest place in the house, the panels of glass casting rainbows everywhere. She had a plastic pot, filled with compacted soil, sitting on a mark on the concrete floor. She was scribbling furiously on a pad of paper, pausing occasionally to stab angrily at her calculator, as if it had caused offence.\n\nShe also had a habit of talking to herself here, but did so aloud rather than under her breath.\n\n“So, the motus charm is usually done by pointing your wand at the object, and flicking it in the direction of travel. But does the speed of the flick matter? How about the angle of motion of the wand? The volume of the incantation? Too many variables. And of course, all of my calculations will have to assume that Newton’s Second holds for magical motion, which we can’t know for sure. Can’t use a recording, can’t control for volume properly. Can’t use a mechanism to control movement, you need your hand on the wand...” she trailed off, looking at the accumulation of what her mother generously called junk on her work bench in the greenhouse, and idea germinating amongst the seedlings.\n\nCharlotte’s mother tapped on the glass wall. Somehow, she had completely missed dusk. Charlotte felt ashamed, as if she had been caught doing something dirty.\n\n“Darling girl, it’s nearly Jove-rise. Come with us to the circle.”\n\n“No, mum, I think I’m on to something, I’ll come next time.” Charlotte stood up, and dragged one of the potting benches into the centre of the room, and started playing with a reclaimed door hinge, muttering something about ‘controlling variables’. Disappointed with her daughter’s lack of respect for the old ways, Charlotte’s mother shook her head, and left for the circle.\n\nCharlotte dug through her pile of detritus, grabbing a small pulley, some thin rope, and a small piece of two-by-four. She screwed the hinge to the planting bench, added the wooden block, and attached the rope to the end of the block, through the pulley, to a counterweight, stolen from her mother’s herb scales. As she worked, she sketched her experimental design, and noted her materials. Once she’d oiled the hinges, she sat next to the table, and tied her hand to the block of wood. She dropped the counterweight, and her fingers rose, while her arm was still securely against the table. She did it again and again, and her fingers rose with the same force each time. One variable down.\n\n“So,” she muttered “let’s try volume”." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: When we made first contact, many aliens were rather disturbed at our nukes. Not that we had them, MAD was pretty much a Great Filter. No, it was our extensive portrayal of nukes. Fallout, 50’s pop, almost any apocalypse not caused by zombies; our fascination with worldwide nuclear fire is… odd." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A large hairless alien with a frog-like head and muscular primate body sits in a luxurious leather chair, tapping its tail off the floor; the tail slaps off the floor with a steady rhythm that matches a Human song softly playing in the background. Meanwhile, a middle aged human in the room muses through a bookshelf filled with alien books, a special AI linked to his brain quickly translates the book titles into his native tongue.\n\n\"Diego,\" The alien says after a moment, the alien has his eyes closed and it is clearly evident the alien is enjoying himself. \"This song, it does not translate.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" Diego says as he turns from looking at a book, \"Well, Faro, It is an ancient song from long ago.\" The alien, Faro, had quickly fascinated himself with Human songs; apparently, music with lyrics is rare in his society.\n\nFaro opens his eyes to look at Diego, \"What is the vocalist singing about,\"\n\n\"Well,\" Diego responds before taking a sip of red wine, a puff on his cigar and then putting a book down, \"It is about a lover requesting his other half to reunite with him after a nuclear war.\"\n\n\"Hmm,\" Diego says as his tail stops tapping, \"It was a catchy number, but now not so much.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" Diego says before coming to sit in an oxblood red wing back chair opposite Faro. Next to the chair is a roaring fire that has a shaggy dog laying down in close proximity, upon reaching his hand down to the floor, Diego begins to scratch the affectionate dog behind the ears. \"How so?\" Diego is dressed in a red dinner jacket and looks most comfortable with his surroundings, all of which is by design as he learns about this alien.\n\n\"Yes.\" The alien reaches forward and flips the vinyl disk over, and then taps a button so that the record player begins to bring the needle to vinyl once more. \"Your species has an odd fascination with a war of the nuclear kind.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Diego replies after puffing on his cigar, \"For a long time, two, and then three great alliances were at each other's throats; inevitably, we began to incorporate that into our media. This piece here is a fascinating song from the 60s during which two of the world's strongest nuclear powers were close to war.\"\n\n\"Your species are strange.\" Faro claims, \"We too had such events, but we never romanticised it; certainly, we would never have put vocals to the music.\"\n\nThen you missed out,\" Diego says, \"This particular piece is called Crawl Out From The Fallout.\" Diego then stands up and moves to a large shelf; after finding a vinyl he is happy with, he removes the record from the protective cover and then places it into the record player, \"This song for example, is a great piece that comes from the period.\" Finally, Diego presses play and sits back down in his chair to watch the alien's reaction.\n\nFaro closes his eyes and taps his tail until the song comes to a close, \"That vocalist,\" The alien exclaims, \"His voice flows like water.\"\n\nDiego smiles before holding his wine up, \"Cheers to that. Now, when the constant threat of nuclear war is horrific beyond measure, why can't we enjoy the little good that came from it.\"\n\n\"It is not the songs that confuse.\" Faro replies, \"But your fascination. Your personal admiration of Mad Max, your unending library of songs. The thoughts I speak now are not solely mine, but the intergalactic communities, we think you people are fascinated by nuclear war, which fascinates us.\"\n\n\"Interesting,\" Diego says with a few nods, \"Well, if you love our nuclear war songs, you'll love our anti-matter war films. Come, I know the perfect film for you.\"\n\nFaro's eyes become incredibly wide, \"An..anti-matter wars?\"\n\n\"Ah, it was just a small one,\" Diego waves his hand in a dismissing motion, \"But good enough for some smashing films.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You’re a hitman for hire, but your clients are lower middle-class and you operate a laundromat as a front. You are The Discount Cleaner" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The bell above the door rang with a happy chime. I put my cellphone away, and turned to face the newly entered customer. A nervous little man, so nervous he was sweating. He was sweating so much that his pitstains ran half way down his blue button-up shirt. He wasn't here to do his laundry, and he wasn't very good at hiding it. \"Welcome to the Discount Cleaner, how can I help you?\" I say to him.\n\nHe Stammers a bit, before saying \"I need a, uh, stain removed\" which is probably his way of asking me to kill someone for him. \"Come on to the back, let's have a look\" I say, as I lift the counter top to allow him to pass through.\n\nWe walk in silence to my office. The fragrance of the detergents sweetening the air, spoiled only by the occasional waft of bleach. We enter the office, and I sit behind the desk.\n\n\"What kind of stain are we talking about?\" I ask him. He starts shaking as he says \"oh, i-i-i thought that this was where I could... Where I could g-g-get...\"\n\nOut of some mild frustration and perhaps a little pity, I interrupt him and say \"yes, this is the discount cleaner. I'm asking who you want cleaned. Do you have information on this person? Do you have a schedule of theirs? My costs depend on how much work I have to do myself. If I have to investigate them first, or clean up afterwards, that costs extra. You get where I'm going with this.\"\n\nThe colour was slowly draining from his face, and he tried to get the words out as best he could, but all that came out was a scared sounding blubbering. I get up and pour a Tumbler of whiskey out for the two of us, and hand it to him. \"Don't worry, there won't be any traces back to you.\" I say.\n\nHe knocks back the tumbler in one swig, and visibly starts to calm down. \"My wife, she cheated...\" He says with the voice of a man who isn't used to chugging whiskey.\n\nI take a sip, and wait for him to recover. \"I want him to suffer\" he says. \"Torture is not my speciality. If you want it drawn out, it will cost a pretty penny. Who is he?\" I reply.\n\n\"My boss\" he replies. I almost chuckle, this is an all too common story in my line of work. \"Well, that means you know his schedule at least. We'll iron out the details later, but payment up front. I'm guessing you just want him dead, and you want it a slow death. How about I just shoot him in the gut and let him bleed out, and you take care of the cleanup, that'll cost you something around 20 000.\"\n\n\"Isn't that a little expensive for one bullet?\" He asks me. \"Yeah, well so is having a murder on your conscience. You can figure out if it's worth it to outsource that bit or not\" I say as I head for the door, grabbing the handle. \"Payment up front, the rest is up to you. Give me a date, time and location when he'll be alone, and that's the last we will need to speak.\" I open the door, and start heading out. He gets up to follow me, and we head to the front of the store.\n\nJust another day in the life of a cleaner, I think to myself." } ]