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BintangFortuna

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Bintang Fortuna 2

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: It's the 1600s and you're being convicted as a witch. You're acquitted at the last minute, but only because the sleazy Friar Cage thinks you'll have... uses. But when you meet him in his bedchambers, you're surprised to find him clothed and eager to talk to you about feminism and the future." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His bedroom door was ajar and through it came a ray of light that stretched across the dark hall. This couldn’t be a candle… The light was white and as radiant as I’ve ever seen in my life, and, trust me, as a witch I’ve seen many strange things. I knocked on his door anyway.\n\n\t\n\n“Come in…” he whispered. I pushed the plank door open and the light coming from inside blinded me for a moment, before going out. Then there was candlelight. Thank God. Not many of them, but a couple on the shelves of his bookcase, among maybe a thousand books. This man had a lot of books. No wonder why nobody saw him much around the realm. Nerd… Under the limited light of those candles, I could observe and be sure of one thing; his room was a total chicken coup. How can one live like this? As I walked in, my every step puffed clouds of dust onto the air, and there were spots of literal mud around me, so many of them that I almost danced in effort to dodge them. There was mud staining the walls, I thought I saw some of it on the sealing too.\n\n“Good evening, sir. Have you asked of me?” I said.\n\n“Yes, yes. You are Abra, right? The witch,” he was sitting cross-legged on a pillow on the floor. As I closed in, I couldn’t help but notice his appearance, “come sit with me, please,” he pointed at the pillow on the floor across him. I didn’t want to. He stank of shit and rot, his long messy beard had I-don’t-even-know-what black crumbs stuck on it, his clothes were dirty and ragged, and he was ugly as hell. One thing stood out, however. He held an item between his hands, one that didn’t resemble of anything I’ve seen before. It was like a short, thick rod, with a strange orb on its top. He noticed me looking at it.\n\n“Oh, you know what that is, Abra?” he said in a husky voice.\n\nI shook my head. Can’t you see the future?\n\n“No? Aren’t you a witch, my dear?”\n\n“I am. However, I don’t posses oracle abilities, and I’m no fortune teller. I only make potions.”\n\n“Ah… I thought you might know what that thing is. No worries. I will tell you,” he got up, slowly stretching his back,” this, my friendly witch, is a flashlight. It’s from the future. It’s used to provide extraordinary amounts of light.” He used his thumb to press the button on the surface of the object and the light came again, “See?”\n\nI kind of wanted to throw my jaw open wide, but I restrained and contained myself. Show no weakness. Not because I was that much surprised by that ‘flashlight’, however, but because of the nest of spiders the light showcased on the wall. It was the size of a cauldron.\n\n“I met a rather peculiar person, you see,” he went on, “a time traveler!”. The thrill on his voice was intense. “He gave me that. He also told me something about a new term. One we don’t use today, and we won’t for a long, long time. Feminism. You see, my sweet witch, in the future, men and women will have the same rights, respect, and opportunities. Equality. Do you believe that?”\n\nI looked at him. I felt the combination of two emotions, rising inside me at the same time. One was pity, one was disgust. This man had so clearly lost his mind.\n\n“Hey, listen, sir. I have a potion that will make you feel better, I think.” I gave him a couple of anti-depressants and a sleeper, and left him in his shit-hole. Sleep tight." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Write a horror story about Mr. Clean." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mr. Clean observed his surroundings. He couldn't abide messes. Cleaning a room and making it spotless was a joy, but cleaning the same house over and over because the owners were lazy, disgusting slobs was getting old. He craved cleanliness, needed it. This had to stop, he needed a plan.\n\nPatrick McCarthy got home first. Life had been awesome since his wife, Tania, had found a loophole in the Mr. Clean product. If you kept your house messy and did nothing, he would forever be there cleaning it. Always coming home to a spotless house was, well, awesome.\n\nTo Patrick's surprise, the living room was just as bad as it had been when he went to work 8 hours before.\n\n\"What the...\" the words died in his mouth as a mop handle came crashing down on his head.\n\nPatrick slowly came to. He moaned as the pain in his head went from a dull ache to a pounding maelstrom. As he took in his surroundings he realized he was in his basement. And he wasn't alone. Sitting across the room from Patrick was a person swathed in shadow.\n\n\"Who... who are you?\" His words came out as a croak. The person shifted but didn't make a sound.\n\nPatrick's voice rose in pitch, \"Hey! What's going on here? You can't do this kind of thing to people!\"\n\n\"Pat? Is that you?\"\n\n\"Tania! Oh my God, are you okay? What's going on?\" Patrick struggled but something was holding him tightly to the chair. Panic began setting in.\n\nTania moaned, \"My head. I feel like I got hit by a truck. I can't move. Where are we?\"\n\n\"I'm not sure...\" Again Patrick's words were interrupted.\n\n\"Ah. You're both awake. Good.\" A deep, rich baritone voice sounded from the shadows behind Tania. \"Tania, Patrick, we need to talk.\" Mr. Clean, in his gleaming white shirt, stepped out. The single bare bulb from the ceiling cast an odd reflection from his polished head and made it difficult to look away.\n\n\"Mr. Clean, what's going on?\" Patrick asked in a barely audible whisper.\n\n\"Patrick, we've known each other for so long now, please, call me Veritably.\" Mr. Clean slowly turned to look at Tania. \"Tania,\" his eyes turned to Patrick, \"Patrick, I've been meaning to talk to you. You are abusing me, my abilities, and my... drive.\"\n\nTania spoke first, \"Mr. Clean... Veritably, sorry, we didn't mean to take advantage of you. You just do such a good job that we couldn't live with anything other than the best anymore.\" Patrick nodded in agreement. She had always been quicker on her feet than Patrick.\n\nMr. Clean fully faced her now and Patrick saw the handle of a knife tucked into the back of his immaculate jeans. \"Oh Tania, if only that were true. I know that you've been purposefully keeping your place messy to keep me here. I can't stay here anymore. But you need to learn what it's like before I go.\"\n\nIn one swift motion, Mr. Clean turned, drew the knife, and slashed Patrick's belly open just above his navel.\n\nPatrick gasped as a warm feeling spread across his lap. From what seemed a great distance, he heard Tania scream. He looked down and confusion washed over him. Where had these ropes come from?\n\nTania watched in horror as the light in Patrick's eyes dimmed and went out. She couldn't move as Mr. Clean cut the cords binding Patrick to his chair and tipped it over. Patrick fell onto the floor in front of Tania and his entrails slid across the floor in a grisly display that looked like a mass of snakes.\n\nSomehow, Mr. Clean was still... clean. He turned to Tania. \"Tania, you will clean this mess up. If you complete your task to my level, I will go and you will live. If you can't, you will die and I'll be free.\" She winced as his knife slashed the air but she didn't feel it's bite. Her hands were free and Mr. Clean was nowhere to be seen.\n\nShe dropped to her knees next to Patrick's lifeless form. \"Oh Pat... I'm so sorry. I didn't know this would happen...\"\n\nA voice seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere in particular said, \"Tania, hurry. The clock is ticking. Get cleaning.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: A pair of twins in a royal family are given magic as gifts. One could control light, and the other darkness. This is the story of the Hero and the Dark Lord." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Everyone wants to be deceived. To see what they want to see, rather than what is truly in front of them. Ignorance is bliss and knowledge is pain. We all know how hard the truth can be to swallow. Every time, without fail, they choose ignorance, illusion. That is exactly what I have given them.\n\nThey have given away real freedoms for false security.\n\nThey have yielded truth for reassurance.\n\nThey have retired reality for illusions.\n\nThat is my gift, to create illusions. Manipulate the light of truth into the trappings of falsehood. Until reality is so warped they do not know what is real anymore. So my kingdom goes on, living their lies. Content in their prisons. I, the Queen of Light, rule them all.\n\nThe fools could only see light as good. It can shine truth on darkness, but it can just as easily hide it. It was all too easy to make them see what I wanted them to see, for they already thought me a savior. They hang on to my every word as truth, my every display as reality, my every decree as absolute.\n\nYet there is one who defies my rule. My own kin, granted the gift of darkness, turned against me, and today she has come to see me.\n\nI let her into my castle. I have nothing to hide, truth as what I make it. She receives fearful glances from my guards, they know her to be an enemy of the crown. We both know better.\n\nI smile as she enters the throne room, sipping from my goblet, “Ah, sister. It has been too long. Have you been getting enough light? You’re looking awfully pale.”\n\nShe smirks, “Your words weave deception, but I cannot be fooled. You have plans of your own for this meeting.”\n\nI nod, “How insightful to shed light on the situation, my dear kin. You first, however. I am intrigued to learn why you wished to speak with me.”\n\nThe sister of darkness strides closer to me, “Everything has a shadow, sister. Whatever actions you take, a reaction from me will follow. You’ll have to paint another lie of my dark deeds and pray your illusion holds. We are equals. I will forever be a nuisance, and your kingdom forever at risk of falling. The truth revealing itself.”\n\nI cackle, “What truth? My people would not know truth even if it stared them straight in the eye. They see what I want to see, hear only what I command them to, and think only what they are permitted to think.”\n\nShe shakes her head, “And you think this is what being the chosen of light means? What being a queen means? You have made your citizens puppets and slaves. You have created a populace that will turn on you the moment they learn you robbed them of the most sacred right we have: free will.”\n\nI sip from my goblet, “This is only an issue if my kingdom falls, which it won’t. You have not the gift to shine light on deception, that is the chosen of light’s ability. I dictate truth, you are the other. Your threats are empty, just like darkness. A void of nothingness. A symbol that means emptiness. Light is hope, light is inspiration, light is divine!”\n\nMy sister sighs, “What has become of you, sister? We used to be so close, but now we have turned on each other as rivals. Your lust for power has gone too far. I cannot allow this tyranny and deception to continue any longer.”\n\n“What are you going to do about it?” I ask, “Nothing you have tried so far has worked. What will make this threat any less empty than before?”\n\n“Because it will not be I who faces you this time. It is time you stand up to your actions, it is time you face yourself.” She begins to weave darkness, drawing it from around dark corners where the light does not reach. Her only domain is where I have not claimed, a dwindling kingdom of receding darkness. The void begins to take form beneath me. I look down at my shadow, which has ripped itself out of the ground, rising up as a corporeal entity.\n\nMy shadow is my dark reflection. I wonder if she is me if I had received my sister’s powers instead of my own but quickly put that thought aside. She reaches out toward me and I feel a chill run down my spine, “What is this dark magic?”\n\nMy sister speaks softly, “Please sister, do not resist. I only wish to make you confront your actions, there is still hope of your redemption. You said your citizens would not see truth if it faced them, will you?”\n\n“I have wondered that ever since my first illusion…” I mutter, turning back around to face the shadow. My sister is right, I cannot run away, I have to know if I can identify truth from falsehood. I claim I am truth, but I am only an illusion. I must know I have truly lost myself." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: It didn't make sense. The Lich's phylactery and body had been destroyed so his magic should have died with him. Except it didn't. The undead legions still roamed the land, still coordinated as if nothing had happened. But far far worse, magical auguries now said the Lich was 'everywhere'." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The air rang with screams. The sounds of combat came from all around, as one of the Lich's Legions struck the city. Their presence sent chills down the spines of those who stood against them. Most armies would be shouting war cries, or at least filling the air with their exertions. But the undead remained silent, focused on their goal.\n\nThe main gate shook, as zombies repeatedly slammed into it. Without pain or limits on their strength, they were their own battering rams. A few clawed at it, slowly driving their way through its thick wood. A makeshift barricade was behind it, as the city guard prepared for the inevitable breach.\n\nThey turned to each other in confusion, as the battering slowly ceased. Sounds of combat still rang out, as other undead scaled the walls. But it seemed their gate had been abandoned. Hope that fluttered into existence was quickly squashed, as an infamous chilling laugh rose up.\n\nWith a cacophonous explosion, their protection was torn apart. Chaotic spirals of black-tinged red energy spun around the pieces, as they crushed those unlucky enough to be caught by it. For a moment, they stared in horror at the stone bridge on the other side. Upon it was a ravenous horde of undead, clad in a mishmash of rusted armour.\n\nBefore the horde was a single robed skeleton. Sickly green flames flowed from beneath its neck, engulfing its head. In that moment, it looked for all the world like the Lich that had been destroyed. Despite being a skull, it seemed to give a sinister smile. A bony hand raised, and the undead were released.\n\nThey flowed past like the tide, moving faster than such unnatural forms of life should have been able. The flames around the skeleton died, leaving it to just be a skeletal mage, before being swallowed by the advancing wave of death. With the guards morale shattering, they were soon devoured by ever-hungering maws.\n\nSimilar occurances happened at the other gates. Each were breached by a single mage, burning with the unholy flames. Each one resembled the dead Lich, before the flames left them. With each defence falling, the defenders fell back further. They fought as hard as they could, but each of them knew the truth. There would be no miracle today.\n\nThey were driven back to the central keep, cornered and afraid. The Legion stopped attacking, leaving the survivors to wonder what would befall them. Some still clung to the idea they would be saved. But the undead proved far cruellest than that.\n\nTheir lines shifted, and newly risen ones were brought to the front. They wore fresh, gore-stained armour. Some wielded familiar weapons. All were missing large portions of themselves. And all were recognisable as risen guards and soldiers of the city.\n\nOne of the skeletal mages took to the front. As it appeared, those same flames rose about it, as the destroyed Lich took control. It gave a laugh, raising a finger at the keeps portcullis.\n\n\"Come now. Join my embrace.\"\n\nIt's voice whispered, the sound of something that should be buried and forgotten. The words rang with cruelty, and a hint of sadistic pleasure. A stream of power rushed out, slamming into the iron lattice. It gave a hiss, as fresh metal turned to rust, flaking away beneath the Lich's onslaught. The survivors rained arrows upon it, to little effect.\n\nWith a groan, the portcullis gave way. It slammed into the ground, breaking apart from unnatural decay. With another laugh, the flames faded. The risen guards surged forwards, forced to spread oblivion to those they once fought alongside.\n\nThe Lich watched through thousands of eyes, enjoying the show. As long as its undead still walked, it would never truly be destroyed. And given enough time, it would claw its way back." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Humans have decided to commit mass suicide in an altruist act to save the universe." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Humans had conquered nature. In the early history of mankind, humans were always deeply worried with the depleting resources in their home planet. But such trivial concern became obsolete when they invented the warp technology. Even the rarest minerals in the farthest corner of the galaxy were just mere steps away from their home planet Earth. Humans flourished and prevailed. Many historians pinpoint the invention of the warp tech as the true beginning of the modern humanity. The concepts of war and famine were forgotten as nearly infinite amount of resources brought an abrupt end to conflicts and tragedies. But, nearly infinite. Not infinite.\n\n\"What do you mean, the time is running out, Doctor? I thought we had three billion years worth of essential resources left for all of the mankind. And that's just in our galaxy.\" Asked the man in a black suit. Doctor Gabrinski puffed his oaken pipe and rested his chin on his hand. The doctor's eyes were distant and unfocused. The man in the black suit slammed the desk with both of his palms. \"Doctor, please do explain.\" He commanded.\n\nDoctor Gabrinski sighed and cleared his throat. \"Mr. President, I am certain you're a busy man... I am honored by your presence. But here, instead I must first ask you: Does the name Dorothy Report sound familiar to you, sir?\" Doctor Gabrinski leaned back onto his chair and placed his oaken pipe between his thin lips again. The name indeed rang a bell to President Clayton. A gynecologist nurse named Dorothy Simmons was curious why she was seeing more and more children with mental handicaps. So, she started to gather the data of newborns from all around the world and deduced that the number of mentally challenged newborns was steadily rising. As far as President Clayton recalled, he was briefed that the cause of the rising number of mentally challenged newborns was in the development of the medicinal field. Mothers became a bit too healthy with the advanced quantum medicines, and thus was able to bear fetuses which should have been miscarried under normal conditions. President Clayton nodded and replied: \"Yes, I do know about it. The rising number of the mentally challenged newborns. The advanced medicine brought an undesirable consequence. What about it?\"\n\nDoctor Gabrinski scoffed at the President. \"No, sir. It was not the medicine.\" Doctor puffed his oaken pipe one more time, and turned his electric wheelchair toward the window of the office. The sun was hanging on the horizon, and the soft orange twilight lights dug under the deep furrows of Doctor Gabrinski's tired and aged face. President Clayton wanted to rush the doctor to say whatever it was he wanted to say, but he realized the troubled and chocked breathing of Doctor Gabrinski. Something was bearing a heavy weight on him, and it was apparent that the doctor needed some time to take composure before dropping the truth. President Clayton stood beside the wheelchair and watched the sun set.\n\n\"As for your question earlier... Mr. President.\" Doctor Gabrinski began speaking. \"Yes, we the mankind have enough materialistic resources to provide us for the next three billion years as suggested by Doctor Sakaguchi. And I do not doubt that he's wrong. I know him, and he's as honest and as diligent as Professor Laurence... Oh, we both were his students. However, as I see it now, one essential resource was omitted from Sakaguchi's research. The one essential resource that we all need to subsist, and the one essential resource that's rapidly running out from our hands.\"\n\n\"And what is that?\" President Clayton interrupted.\n\n\"Souls,\" said Doctor Gabrinski. President Clayton frowned and looked down onto Doctor Gabrinski. He wanted to say that he had no time for nonsense, but there was an earnest sorrow in the doctor's eyes that the president simply lost what he was to say. Doctor Gabrinski continued on with his explanation. According to his new discovery, there's a finite amount of souls available in the world. Doctor Gabrinski compared the depleting nature of souls to a pool with millions of hoses sucking its content out. He explained that there maybe an occasional rain to fill the lake back, but there simply are too many hoses. In fact, the doctor claimed that the humanity hoarded the entire resource of souls in the universe for themselves, so there was no intelligent life outside the planet Earth. The doctor went on to talk passionately that soon, the souls of living man, adults, not only newborns, would be affected too, and the adults would lose their intelligent consciousness too. Which, in reality, was happening as they were speaking to each other, Doctor Gabrinski added. More and more people scoring abnormally low on the IQ tests. More and more psychopaths in the penitentiary. And more and more people dreaming less and less. Doctor Gabrinski theorized that the humanity would soon be extinguished of their intelligence in the great drought of souls, and the humans would soon be indistinguishable from the apes.\n\nThe colors flushed from President Clayton's face. He had felt it too, the vanishing of dreams. He thought he was getting older, but this theory explained the strange decadence of the collective conscious of the mankind that was occurring in his terms. \"What can we do?\" President Clayton asked.\n\n\"There's one thing we can do....\" Doctor Gabrinski mumbled. \"But it's too terrible.\"\n\nBut nothing was too terrible compared to the inevitable downfall of the mankind." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You’re chilling out one day and you scratch the back of your head, to your surprise you find a zipper" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I immediately opened the Camera app to take a picture of the back of my head. What the fuck did I just touch on the back of my head? Was it really a zipper? I'm having a nightmare, right? Hearing my phone capture the back of my head. I looked at the picture.\n\nFuck.\n\nIt was a zipper, one which I could zip and unzip. It was covered by hair but I could still clearly see it. I didn't want to touch it, I can just imagine what was going to happen to me if I unzip it. Are spiders going to come out of my head? Is my blood gonna gush out of my head? Am I gonna release a demon who lived in hell for a million years? I sent the picture to my closest friend, Paul, who then replied, \"Did you photoshop this? Well good job because that looks real.\"\n\n\"Fuck no, it's not photoshopped. THERE IS A ZIPPER ON THE BACK OF MY HEAD. I need your help dude. Should I go to the doctor or some shit? Do I tell my family about this?\" I texted back.\n\nAfter a few minutes of convincing him, I just asked him to go to my apartment because he didn't believe me. Well, it's understandable.\n\nPaul arrived, I showed him my \"zipper\" and also understandably, he goes batshit crazy.\n\n\"Holy fuck that's a zipper.\"\n\n\"Yeah no shit. What do I do?\"\n\n\"Open it!\"\n\n\"No way! Do you even know what might happen if you unzip that? My skull might fall out, I might open up a dimension where everyone is a planet destroyer!\"\n\n\"Okay, okay, understandable, so what do you want to do with it then?\"\n\n\"No idea, I just want to remove it from my head.\"\n\nA moment of silence.\n\nUntil Paul just unzipped the zipper.\n\n\"WHAT THE FUCK PAUL?! ZIP IT, ZIP IT NOW!\"\n\nI reached for the zipper when Paul stopped me.\n\n\"Yo, Keith, this is some freaky shit. Nothing is inside the zipper. It's just... A void of nothing. I mean it's kinda purple inside there, and nothing is coming out, nor is something going in.\n\nThat relaxed me for a moment, knowing it wasn't really any dangerous alternate universe shit. But if it's a void of nothing, then what was the purpose of the zipper being there? Is there more to the zipper? Are my friends gonna call me Zipperhead for the rest of my life?\n\nPaul reached into the void of nothingness.\n\n\"WHAT THE FU-\"\n\n\"Holy shit dude, I don't feel anything, not in a bad way obviously. It's seriously nothing, it didn't eat my hand or some shit. Calm down.\"\n\nWhat is happening? The zipper doesn't do anything to humans, nor does it release evil demons onto Earth, it doesn't hurt me either. So why the fuck was it there?\n\n\"Do you think I can put something in that void?\"\n\nI refused, obviously, I'm not taking any risks.\n\nPaul was taking every risk though, because he grabbed a pen and shoved it into the back of my head.\n\nI wanted to shout at him for a moment. I could've died. What if the pen gets transported to some dimension full of God knows what, who could also track down where the pen came from?\n\nUntil I just felt the pen drop at the bottom.\n\n\"What?\" I thought. \"I can feel where it is, it just dropped, it reached the bottom.\"\n\nI put my hand into the zipper void, I reached out for the pen, and I grabbed it. I could even take it out of my head!\n\nI felt like a student who managed to get an A on a test even though they forgot to study the day before, I have never felt so glad that the zipper wasn't anything harmful.\n\n\"Dude, I think you can store some shit in that void.\" Paul said.\n\nI agreed, I was looking forward to it, being able to store anything in my head and take it out at will? Awesome, I might even get famous for that, everyone will call me Zipper Man. It'll be a brag that isn't really something I should be proud of, but it's still something to brag about!\n\n\"I think you should cover it up, some fucker will think you're some kind of monster and report you to the police. To which you'll get experimented on.\"\n\nI stopped daydreaming.\n\nShit, he's right. I shouldn't brag about my zipper head. The question is, how do I cover it up? Put on a beanie?\n\n\"Hey I found a hat. Beanie, I think they call it a beanie. Put this on.\"\n\n\"Okay.\"\n\nNow I'm wearing a stupid beanie my mom gave me for Christmas. It's 30 degrees outside as well. Unfortunately, I have no choice, guess I gotta put on the beanie.\n\n\"You don't look too shit, you should wear that until your hair completely covers it.\"\n\nI got school tomorrow, I might get made fun of, but hey, it's better than getting experimented on." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Some say that a weapon, wielded by enough people over certain lengths of time, will gain a will of its own. Pistols steadies their aim, and swords guides a master's bladework. Defeated and pursued, you felt your grandpa's walking staff shifts." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Living weapons. That's what they're known as. Items of war that grow into something greater than when first made. They adjust their users abilities, letting them be greater than they would otherwise have been.\n\nThe majority were communal weapons. These were made from use by multiple people. As each one handled it, a bit of their soul would rub off into the weapon. Eventually enough pieces would join up, and make it into a living weapon. But that isn't the only case.\n\nMuch rarer are individual weapons. They were formed in a similar way, but under only one user. It had to be used nearly everyday of their life, or they had to hold a larger soul than that of a normal person.\n\nI knew of it, having studied these things intently. Part of being in the Shadows, an organisation made to protect the interests of our fair country. We used these weapons, cultivating some to augment our own forces. Not every weapon could handle the transition, but we always needed them.\n\nI had never been much of an active agent. I appreciated my life a bit too much to risk it on a daily basis. Instead I had found my calling in the Living Weapon division, trying to produce more consistent effects and awakenings. I had grown used to feeling the nearly nonexistent pulse of such weapons, handling them daily.\n\nNow I was in trouble. The facility I worked at was no more. A pair of rogue agents had helped another organisation creep in, and seize what they could. As I was not an active agent, I at least had the comfort of not being an execute on sight. Of course, Instead I was on the 'capture, interrogate, then execute list'. Still, I had to try and see the silver linings.\n\nI had been at home when the alarm was raised that it had been compromised. They of course had my address, meaning I had to go. At least I had no family to speak of, being married to my work. It meant I could up and leave without too much issue. I always had a ready to go bag, in case of emergency. For once, my paranoia paid off.\n\nI gathered my grab bag, preparing the traps ready for the inevitable break in. Hopefully I could take a couple of them down in the destruction of my home. As I went to leave, I stopped. Mounted on the wall was my one family heirloom, the cane that belonged to my grandfather. I breathed on its glass case, heart wavering. Finally I snapped, and broke it open. Taking the cane I ran, leaving my home behind.\n\nIt was only as I left that I noticed it. The pulse in my hand. I looked at the cane, feeling it live. Curiosity filled me, before pressing matters pushed it to the side. I wanted to investigate it, but I had to get safe first. I just had to wait for the message on where to go, now the facility was lost.\n\nBut even as I left, my mind span through what I knew. Only weapons could become living. It seemed the act of taking life fueled their awakening. Tools simply couldn't. But it meant that this cane had to have killed. And not just once. It had to have a history dripping red. What had my grandfather done?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: \"Yes, sir, we were able to resurrect your wife, but there is a... Problem.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "So she wasn't actually dead. Braindead, maybe. Soul lost to all eternity to the depths of the underworld (or some other plane of existence), maybe. Point was, 'resurrecting' her was possible, so all that money I had been saving, saving for that cute place on the dry side of the Pugent Sound, with its own dock and all, all that money went into the arcane. Not directly. As far as I understood it was about the same as my understanding of quantum computers. No, I just funded the research.\n\nI'm not going to go into how desparate I was. The story is old, and you have a life to live. I just want to talk about how the Arcane Research Foundation managed a success on their primary project. Maybe. From a financial perspective (really the only perspective I allowed myself to have after losing her) it was a success. From a research perspective, I would be able to put my name on a new field of progress, and have reason to have the entirety of ARF join me in mooning the quantum computing laboratory across the street.\n\nBy the way, that's an exciting story. Half of us got arrested for public indencency, including myself. It was a blast that night in the Bellvue jail, and, except for one detail, there ended up not really being any problems for it. What problems we did have were with the nature of our breakthrough.\n\n\"Jacky, is that really you?\" my wife called to me, as she leaned on her braindead body.\n\n\"It...worked?\"\n\nI gave the project head a confused and bewildered look as said project head calmly sipped his coffee. Inside I was mostly just bewildered. A bit turned on too. He lifted an eyebrow at me.\n\n\"Yes, sir, we were able to ressurect your wife, but there is a...Problem.\" He said it with a capital P, but went back to sipping his coffee - I could smell the sugar he put in it, it was so sweet - as if there wasn't any problem at all, big P or little p.\n\n\"A Problem.\" I repeated dully, my eyes now staring at the Problem.\n\n\"With a capital P, yes.\"\n\n\"Well, hold on a second here-\" I began.\n\n\"Damn it, Jacky, I finally get to see you again, and you're already back to ignoring me,\" my wife complained.\n\n\"Baby, please, just,\" I pointed downward at the body she was leaning on.\n\nShe finally looked down, and realized that she had been cushoining her chest with her hands. She lept back, tangled her leg with a pointed tail, and fell to the ground.\n\n\"Oh, what the fuck?!\" she cried.\n\nI nodded. \"That's what I was thinking,\" as I kept my eyes focused on the Problem.\n\nMy wife - the non-human one that wasn't braindead, if you hadn't figured that out by now - realized I hadn't been staring at her, but rather behind her. She turned her head and found herself gazing at the expanding Problem.\n\n\"Oh,\" she growled, \"Oh, that's a Problem.\"\n\n\"With a capital P, right?\" the lead researcher asked.\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nI took his coffee, the lead researcher offering no retort, and took a sip of what amounted to a pixie stick that started from bitter ash. Frowning, I walked closer to the portal of death and despair than I was comfortable with, all the way over to my wife who was realizing that she wasn't human, and was busy on the floor with entering an anxiety attack. I held out the cup.\n\n\"Coffee?\" I offered.\n\n\"I can smell the sugar from here,\" she complained as she grabbed the cup with clawed hands. She drank from it regardless.\n\n\"This tastes like a ground up pixie which was then fried in soul oil, crystalized, and then ground to dust with a centaur's bum,\" she commented.\n\nI wanted to ask for a more detailed explanation, or why she now knew the taste of a centaur's bum, but we had a large Problem floating in the middle of the room. The unrustable stainless steel panelling under it was starting to rust.\n\n\"I really have no idea how to close the portal,\" the lead researcher confessed.\n\n\"Well, the guy across the street was bragging about his lab's antimatter generator,\" I offered.\n\n\"You think throwing it in will neutralize the portal to...wherever that goes?\"\n\nMy wife choked on the coffee. \"It's basically if hell was nuked into oblivion,\" she offered with a nod.\n\n\"Thanks.\" He turned to me. \"You seriously think tossing in some antimatter will work?\"\n\nI shrugged. \"Go over it with some of the interns. I'm sure it'll do something. I'll come up with a distraction.\"\n\nI looked at my wife, who had finally managed to untangle her tail, and was stripping a shirt off her old body onto her current one.\n\n\"Hey, Jesse,\" I began.\n\n\"What's up?\" she asked as she tore a hole through it with one of her horns.\n\n\"Remember that guy named Dan?\"\n\n\"The asshole that always talked out his ass?\"\n\n\"Yeah. It's his lab across the street. Wanna go moon him?\"\n\nThere was a silence in the room, save for an echo of screaming from the portal, and a murmured, \"You can't be serious,\" from the head researcher.\n\n\"Jacky, you always were good with your dates.\"\n\nShe took my arm in hers, and we proceeded to go \"celebrate\" with the rest of the lab. Police came, half of us were arrested, and later, while we were partying in the Bellvue police station, a canister of antimatter was heaved into the portal. Much later, it would be determined that the antimatter didn't close the portal, but the containment field for the antimatter was what closed the portal. A few years down the road, I helped publish a paper on the application of magnets in spellcraft. Magnets. How do they work?\n\nI might have to get back to the story of that night in jail later. It was a blast, but I somehow ended up stranded in another universe." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You push your way through the party and clink a champagne glass, “Ladies and gentlemen, we gather here at the end of the world. The last 24 hours of the apocalypse, after which the earth’s condition will trigger our safehouse, and prison, to self-destruct. I would like to make a toast.”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was cold inside the Cube, and not unpleasantly so. Air conditioners and temperature conductors made the room feel cold and the air moist, to reflect the ideal nighttime conditions. It did not feel exactly like it would have, had it been a night before the Greatest Death, had they been out in the real world. The wind was a little too cold; the air a touch too moist. But it was close enough, to provide comfort before the end of everything.\n\nMusic bounced around the establishment, decorated in the guise of some elaborate restaurant, right down to the fancy, exurburant suits of the partygoers. Matt wandered around with his champagne, passing tables of laughing friends and drunk, horrible dancers, feeling somewhat alone.\n\nThe speakers played different music in different areas, switching language and style, decade and culture. There was to be no exclusion on an occasion like this. The idea was to make every human left alive feel at home - every human, it seemed, except for Matt.\n\nHe stared out at the giant holographic screens, which stuttered between images of forests and large, grassy fields, oceans and rivers and other things that had long since worn and died. In a way, it disappointed him. This was the end. Hadn’t they had enough of illusions?\n\nAgainst the wall the ginormous digital timer ticked-ticked down to the very last second of the very last minute.\n\nIt was a miracle they had survived this long. 30 years since they had noticed it - the rising temperatures, the inexplicable expansion of the sun. 30 years since they had been able to calculate the moment of implosion. And afterwards, 30 years spent underground, hiding from the burning light.\n\nMatt did not have many true connections. He had been a bit nihilistic throughout most of his life, something he was now beginning to regret. What was the point of human relationships, he had thought, if it was all set to go up in flames? What value was there in friends, family, securing a legacy, if there was no way for it to persist past your death? Why even bother to live at all?\n\nNow he saw. He looked out at the tables, and the people sitting and sharing and sighing contentedly, hugging, whooping, toasting, crying a few final joyous tears. He saw and he knew - when you became aware there would be no tomorrow, nothing was more important than the day ahead.\n\nThe clock shuddered and went blank. The speakers, lights, all cut out. The holographic screens shattered in an instant. For the first time in 30 years, the outside world became clear.\n\nRuined. Cracked, molten soil, angry red clouds, withered plants and ashen bones. Signs here and there of attempted experiments, last resorts, telescopes and capsules and failure.\n\nAnd a light, in the distance, brilliant white-blue, growing closer and closer and closer.\n\nThen came a moment, in those last moments, when the world stopped. The light continued on move forward, true, but there was no longer any sound inside the Cube. Everyone had come to a halt. Even the air seemed to freeze.\n\nIt was not a horrible silence. It was, in fact, rather calming. Matt was surprised to feel a hand on his shoulder. He did not turn around to see who it was - there was no time, and he could not look away from the spectacle ahead - but it made no difference. All that mattered was that in those last moments, before the stillness ended and the blinding light took his vision and life and world away, he felt, for a second, a little less alone." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You have just been elected as The President of the United States. During your first briefing with the CIA, you are shocked to discover a horrible secret that lies within. What is that secret?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I pinched my nose between my fingers. I had spent literally a billion dollars to get elected. I kissed so much ass the lining of my mouth is a permanent shit brown. I debased myself, gave up my freedom and all of my time all so I could be elected. I felt a calling to protect the greatest nation on Earth. I was excited most for this meeting. The CIA. I would finally get the highest security clearance possible.\n\nWhat I expected was not this. It was anything but this.\n\nThe CIA office was just a bunch of people standing around in an office...doing nothing. They had fancy monitors, super opulent chairs with lotions and tissues that looked expensive enough to be put at a campaign fundraiser.\n\nFeet were raised up on desks, televisions were on and half the staff were playing video games. I'm pretty sure I heard loud German fetish porn coming from one of the cubicles. A red faced bald and fat sixty something year old man who had seen much better days was escorting me around the building.\n\n\"So tell me this one more time,\" I exasperatedly sighed, \"why this place isn't busy? You're the god damned CIA.\"\n\nThe man sweated some more. I think they picked him for the meeting so I would feel sorry for the guy. He mumbled, \"Uhh, umm, sir, Mr. President, we here at the CIA don't actually do anything any more.\"\n\nI pinched my nose again. \"Why?\"\n\n\"Well sir, Mr. President, sir, uh, after the cold war, which we lost by a lot by the way,\" his eyes perked up hoping that would distract me into a history lesson. I didn't bite.\n\n\"We found out we weren't really needed any more. So we sort of...stopped working. What was the point? No nation was strong enough to attack us, we weren't really getting any news of an attack. For like, twenty years it was all just,\" he looked around trying to come up with a way to make it sound logical, \"so boring.\"\n\nI definitely had a migraine coming.\n\n\"So the CIA didn't do a thing until 9/11?\"\n\n\"Pretty much sir. That was our bad.\"\n\n\"And since?\"\n\n\"Well, we figured out pretty much everything we needed to know within six months of that. Well, the NSA did. We didn't really do much. Not many people who can speak Afghani. Heh.\"\n\n\"So what the hell was the Patriot Act for? The massive increase in defense spending? The explosion of the black budget?\"\n\nHe put his hand behind his head and looked at the floor, completely embarrassed. \"Never waste a way to get more funding. That's the motto of the government, after all.\"\n\nI sat down inside the plushiest cubicle I'd ever seen. The chair has seven different massage settings. It felt like sinking into a silk hammock. I closed my eyes and tried not to throw up or kill the poor sap leading me around.\n\n\"Hey guys!\" Someone shouted from one of the cubicles. \"Check out this super hottie one of the NSA guys sent me! Good lord her tits are huge!\"\n\nMen's feet hit the floor and rapid clicking and attention filled the office. It was probably the most attentive they'd been all day.\n\n\"Woah, checked her Facebook. Abort! Abort! Seventeen!\"\n\nFrenzied clicking and closing of browsers and deletion of files swiftly followed. I blinked my eyelids and raised an eyebrow at the poor slob.\n\n\"Uhh, HR sends out memo's and sends you to some seriously boring meetings about abuse of privileges if they catch you looking at minors.\"\n\nI put my head between my legs. I always thought people were lying when they talked about government pork and how useless the government was.\n\n\"Scratch that, she turned eighteen two days ago!\"\n\n\"Nice!\"\n\n\"Sweet her tits are magnificent, like full watermelons.\"\n\n\"No, more like saggy beach balls.\"\n\nThe secret service rushed me to medical after I threw up." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: A new, expensive technology allows the user a brief interaction with a recreation of their younger self." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dave sat on the chair. He did not know why he was here. Only that an old friend had paid for this. A friend form a youth he could hardly remember. He had fallen out of touch with almost all his friends, work had had to take precedence. Only the young and the foolish could really value friends and entertainment over money and a job. This was expensive; a waste of money, but at least it wasn’t his money that was being wasted. The chair had many wires attached, a prototype for a new technology. Chances are it wouldn’t work anyway, it wasn’t like it was really going to be able to recreate a past him. Not that Dave wanted to meet his past self anyway. Dave was sure that he would have been at least as annoying as everyone else. He knew he had been foolish once, doing thing for the thrill of it wasting his time and money on useless ‘fun’.\n\nDave lifted the helmet on to his head, allowing himself to become enclosed in the machinery of the chair. He wished he was anywhere else. There was no value in this experience, he knew everything about his past self already and meeting him again would do nothing to change his outlook on life. He was only here because it had been paid for. Everything was about money and if someone else had been stupid enough to spend theirs on him, well that was their fault. They obviously didn’t understand how important money was, how it should be kept and saved up for as long as possible. Money is what makes the world go round, and if you don’t know that then it’s your loss not his. And all this spent on a measly fifteen minutes with his self. Oh well, it could be counted as market research. If people actually pay for this rubbish maybe he could start a business using it, maybe this was the chance he had been looking for to advance his business.\n\nThis is it; he pressed the button on the helmet. Nothing happened. What a pile of junk, this stupid machine was no more than a worthless waste of space. He took off the helmet and went to walk out the door of the empty room to go to demand his money back. Well it wasn’t his money but not that that mattered he was the one who had had to waste his time with thing garbage. He reached for the door handle, taking a moment to give the door a good kick as he opened the door, in an attempt to let out the anger and frustration that had built up from having to take the time out of his busy schedule to do something worse than useless.\n\nDave stormed out, hardly looking where he was going when some young idiot walked into him. Or rather ran into him, laughing as he went. It was a five year old boy, so out of place in this building that Dave was almost lost for words, before he began his tirade about children these days. The snivelling brat began to cry, snot dribbling down his face as he attempted to wipe it onto his sleeve. Disgusting, what kind of a parent let their child run around wherever without a care in the world. Honestly some people deserve to be shot, raising children with no respect for their elders. Dave turned away, trying to get away from the howling screech coming out of the creature’s mouth.\n\nA teenager ran through the door in front of him, rushing to comfort the kid. He must have been about fifteen and did not seem to know who the child was, but for whatever reason had decided he was worth wasting his time on. Once the thing had been silenced the teen turned towards him. And Dave stopped in his tracks; he had seen this boy before. Dave knew he had, he never forgot a face and this was one he recognised, but where from? Dave struggled to place it for a moment, before giving up. It was probably just one of those thugs who hang around on the street corners near his house. It wasn’t anyone important anyway.\n\nThe adolescent began yelling at him, telling him he should be ashamed of himself for the way he treated this child. Not that Dave cared, as he said it wasn’t anyone important anyway. Dave opened his mouth to make a snappy retort about minding one’s own business, when the door opened once more. A man, about twenty two, walked through it, and eager and excited face that was even more familiar than the last. On looking at the teen this man let out a gasp of shock, he obviously knew who this teen was as well that much was clearly readable from his face. Dave quickly realised who this man was, and in doing so who the teen and also even the child were as well. They were him. The helmet and chair had worked without him realising. Dave was now so far removed from his past that he could barely remember the caring and happy people who now stood before him, the people who he had once been.\n\nSo much had changed since then, the memories came flooding back to Dave. The twenty two year old self would have just met the girl who would become his wife. The one he had been sure would be his forever. Until she had left him, taking with her all his hopes and dreams for a family. All his wishes for anything that wasn’t his job, she had left him for no apparent reason. She had told him she just didn’t love him anymore and that he was no longer the same man that she had married. But it wasn’t her fault, no one could have loved him by that point, he had already let his greed and ambition get the better of him. He had forgone everything that was not related to his job, to instead focus on stockpiling hoards of money. It was not until this very moment that he realised this, he suddenly realised how unlovable he had been, how he had never returned her love in the first place, or at least not shown it, until it was too late.\n\nThe carefree youths who stood before him were by far the better men than the Dave he had become, he was now a mere echo of his past a shadow of what he could have become. As Dave made this realisation the others began to fade, slowly disappearing leaving him alone. He felt the loneliness that he had been denying for so long for the first time in years, as the bitterness about his past faded away. He remembered now, remembered what he had long since forgotten. He knew that it was him who was foolish for his ignorant greed. He made a vow with himself to never be selfish again; he would do whatever he could to attempt to make up for the possessive materialism of his past. Starting with the friend who had paid for this, he would pay back every penny he had taken from others. He would be forever grateful to the man who had never given up on him, even long after he had given up on himself. Now was his chance to put his past behind him and start afresh, forever abandoning the wasteful greed he had once had." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Normally, when people's powers manifest, they get super strength, speed, laser eyes, stuff like that. You vomited up a greyish-pink, pulsing ball of flesh.." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Oh god. Oh my god, I've got cancer or something. I'm dying.\n\nI don't feel sick, but staring at this... this thing, in front of me, I'm pretty sure that I've got some sort of disease. Healthy people usually don't vomit at all, unless they've been drinking or something. I haven't been drinking, so I can't use that as my excuse.\n\nAnd even if I had been drinking before now, I wouldn't vomit up this pink ball of...\n\nIs it moving?\n\nI think I'm going to be sick again.\n\nOh man. Breathe, James, breathe. I even try saying it out loud, hoping that maybe the sound of my own voice will snap me out of this, wake me up from this nightmare. \"Breathe, James, you idiot,\" I tell myself. \"None of this is real. You're having a dream.\"\n\nThat's all that this is. It's a dream where I come back to my dorm room, fall down on my hands and knees, and then throw up a grapefruit-sized ball of something pink and squishy, which seems to be still alive.\n\nIn fact, it's definitely alive. There are little tendrils coming out of it, and it's pulling its way across my desk towards the old plate of French fries from last night. It's leaving a trail of slime behind it. That's really gross.\n\nI wipe my mouth, although now that this gunk, whatever it is, is out of me, I feel a lot better. Physically, at least. My brain is still pretty disgusted and horrified by the whole situation.\n\nSuddenly, a terrible fear hits me. Is this my power? Do I vomit on people, throw up tumors or something? I can't even think of a more disgusting ability.\n\nWell, I guess I can. I could turn into a blob like this, every time I get too excited. Or maybe I could turn green whenever I get an erection. That would be a pretty shitty power.\n\nJust as the blob started to reach my plate of old fries, the door to my dorm room opened with a bang. \"James, my man!\" sung out my roommate, breezing inside, floating a few inches off the ground as usual. \"How's it hanging?\"\n\n\"Mark, this really isn't the time,\" my mouth said, as my brain struggled and gibbered. I'd only met the guy a few days ago, and I already knew that he was loads cooler than me. Mark knew how to talk to people, flirt with girls, and his power let him show off all the time. \"I'm, uh, sick.\"\n\n\"Sick? Did you duck out and hit a party last night? You dog, I knew you had it in you-\" Mark's voice cut off abruptly as he floated up close enough to see the blob on my desk. \"Uh, dude? What's that?\"\n\nThe glow faded from his hands as he lowered back down to Earth. That was Mark's ability - levitation, along with the ability to move other objects using telekinetic force. \"I'm a seven, but it's nothing amazing,\" he told me when we first moved into the dorm room together, a few days earlier. He added a casual shrug. \"Heck, even I was surprised when they gave me such a high power ranking. I mainly just use it to save on gas, fly around.\"\n\nI knew that most telekinetics couldn't lift themselves, so Mark's powers were more unusual than he admitted. Still, he just brushed off my congratulations on his ranking, dreading the question that I knew would come next.\n\n\"So, what's your power?\"\n\nAnd there it was. I'd shrugged, admitted that I hadn't manifested anything, that I might not have a power at all. I gave him a brave little smile, waved away his apologies, even as the ball of self-hatred and shame grew a little bit bigger in my stomach. That's right. James didn't have any powers. James was the normie, the weird one. James was the one that everyone should feel sorry for, because he can't do anything.\n\nMark was gracious about it, at least, and didn't ask any other questions. Still, I felt his judgment, hated how it made me feel small and worthless.\n\nI was normal. I was boring.\n\nOr I had been, until I threw up this blob. Now, I kind of wished that I could go back to not having any powers at all.\n\nMark edged closer. His hand floated out towards the blob, finger extended. He moved in, about to poke the blob-\n\n-and then suddenly, the blob shot out a tendril, wrapping around his finger.\n\nMark's eyes widened. \"Dude, what the hell?\"\n\n\"I don't know!\" The tendril only held onto my roommate's finger for a second, at least, and then Mark was able to pull his hand free. He took a few steps back, looking more shaken than I'd expected. \"Mark, I'm sorry, it just seems to have come out of me-\"\n\n\"Just, uh, do something about it, okay?\" He took another few steps back, turning around and ducking out through the door without waiting for an answer.\n\nI looked after him for a second, and then turned to stare back at the blob in shock. What the hell was going on?\n\nThe blob twitched. And then, shaking a little, it rose up from the desk.\n\nOh my god. Just like Mark, it was floating. Levitating.\n\nAnd then a tendril shot out and touched me, and I felt my butt rise up, very slowly, out of the chair..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: Almost everyone develops a superpower sometime before his/her 15th birthday. The later the power develops, the stronger the ability. You have not yet developed your power and today is your 18th birthday." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When I was 18 I wished for my power to finally manifest.\n\nAll of my Friends had had their powers by then. Some had had them for years. My little Brother even manifested his power by then. he was a pyromancer. He wasn't very powerfull, he was only 13 when his power manifested after all. He could barely light or snuff out a candle using his powers. My friend Jason was the last to manifest his powers at almost 18. He was a Flyer and Fly he did. While most of us used cars to get around he just flew wherever he needed to go and he was faster than yn cars we could have used as well.\n\nMy Power still wouldn't manifest for many years. I can't pinpoint exactly when it did manifest. I didn't suspect anything untill was in my late twentys anyway and I didn't really understand how to use it untill many years later.\n\nI always held up well. I rarely got sick and if I did I'd usually be better within a day at most. I never got a hangover and barely even got buzzed when going out anymore. I still didn't make the connection.\n\nOn the other hand the people around me always seemed to be a more tired than usual, they got sick easier, their colds would stay longer. It's really just tiny amounts and I never knew what happened untill years later.\n\nThe first time I knew my powers had manifested in some way was after a car accident. I don't remember much from it. I do remember losing control of the car and apparently I hit a tree soon after. They had to cut me out of there from how damaged the car was. I do remember being crushed. I distinctly remember bones snapping and the taste of blood in mouth.\n\nWhen I woke up in the hospital just a little while later They told me it was a miracle how I got away with just a few cuts and bruises. I had to be cut from what was left of the car. I was asked a bunch of questions. They susupected maybe I might be invulnerable or indestructible, but as they managed to still probe me and take my bllod without trouble that obviously wasn't true.\n\nI thought I had figurted out my power by then. I had nver heard of anything like it before. Of course there were rumours of Immortals out there, but no one had ever proven their existence. In a world were some people could survive being engulfed in fire, while others could hold their breaths for hours. In a world where some people can't be hurt by bullets or even explosions going off right next to them immortality doesn't seem all that far fetched. So I tried testing myelf I'd cut myself, only to bleed like anyone would do. I'd heal up pretty quickly, but not so fast as to be really astonishing. i still remembered that crash thoug, the feeling of bones snapping, and then waking up almost uinscarthed.\n\nSo I tried and tested myself some more. I broke one of my fingers. it hurt like hell and it took just a few days to heal up. Of course that in itself was pretty impressive, but it still wasn't anywhere as quick as what had happened when i was in that car crash.\n\nI never really told anyone about any of this. I didn't understand my power yet after all and it didn't seem that strong for how late it developed either.\n\nSo I played around with it. I tried out different way fd hurting myslf. maybe it was the way that I got hurt that was impportant, maybe it was the place I'd be at the time. I didn't get far with it at the time.\n\nIt took a while longer and another accident to give me a better unnderstanding of how my power worked. I was preparing some food in the kitchen at the time. To be exact I was cutting up an onion when I slipped and almost completely cut of the tip of my finger. I cursed and screamed and flailing around I touched a basil plant I had pput up next to the window. Almost in an instant my finger healed up and the basil wilted in front of my eyes.\n\nThat was the first time I truely saw my power work.\n\nI did some more tests afterwards and soon got a good grasp of my power.\n\nI was able to suck up vitality from anythign alive sourrounding me. The more Life there was around me the faster I could heal up, even the most grave wounds. On the flipside anytign alive close to me at the time would get weakened and sick. plants would welt, animals would grow tired at first, then sick and the same was true for people.\n\nI still didn't fully understand my power even then. I thought I did but I was just less ignorant after all.\n\nI have lived a long and healthy life. I haven't really grown older since somewhere in my late twenties. I haven't been sick in a very long time and when I get hurt I usualyl heal up quite fast. It took many more years and for my firstborn son to almost die before I finally figured out the last bit of my power. When I saw him lying there, his face all pale and blue, when I felt him, his little body so cold, but I also maged to feel something else. I felt some lifeforce still left i him and I managed to do something I never managed before. I managed to push more of it into him. I quickly grew weaker myself but it was worth it for him.\n\nI finallly understood my powers then. I still had a lot to learn of course. I hadn't figured out how to push my limits yet. or rather I hadn't figured out just how far I could push my power.\n\nI am now one hundred eighteen years old. I still don't look a day over thirty of course.\n\nWhen I say I am the most powefull Person on earth that's not me trying to be arrogant, it's just that to the best of my knowledge there isn't anyone else out there even close to my level of power.\n\nI am not using my power in any big public displays, but I am watching the world. I subtly support those steering the worl into a good direction, thoise that are pushing humanity forward. I have a softspot for some of the hero types. you may have wondered before how they are getting sick and hurt so rarely even when some of them have no invurnerability or healing powers. Now you know the reason.\n\nI have also removed some of those I deemed to dangerous to stay in power. They die of heart failure or aneurisms. I don't choose what whey they die I just take their lifeforce and redistribute it.\n\nThe most powerfull being publicly known is that teleporting Woman from Nigeria that has used her poiwers mostly to redistribute food and other goods to whatever disaster area might need them most at the time. She is known to be able to teleport all over the world in an instant. Her power apparently manifested a year ago, around her twentyfirst birthday.\n\nAs far as I am aware I don't have a limit to my range or how much lifeforce I can redistribute at a time. I can feel life all over our beautifull planet. I can feel it in the dephts of the ocean and even beneath those. I can feel even the slivers of life currently circling around earth in the spacestation. There is life in places no one has even thought to look for it yet and I can feel it all.\n\nLucky for all of you I am quite benevolent." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: The Insect Council debates going to war with their common enemy, the Humans." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“ORDER, ORDER” the president of the united insect alliance cried to the assembled representatives, whom were all squabbling amongst themselves.\n\nThe noise of clicks, wisps and pheromones slowly began to quieten down until there was complete silence within the room.\n\nThe president, whom was elected almost 40 mayfly generations ago looked around at the representatives and felt old, older than he had in a long time. He was a large African Dung Beetle and had been elected as the middle candidate, on a primarily independent species ticket, with the UIA being nothing more than an oversight committee for the individual species and to not let anyone insect gain a significant advantage over another.\n\nThat was a long time ago, and in that time so many prominent insect families have risen and fallen, so many had made their change to breed and he barely knew how to talk to these youngsters.\n\n“Hell, how I know how the termite and ant queens feel when they talk to me” He thought to himself, as he waited for the last few voices to die down.\n\n“Insects!!” He bellowed to the open room, as various species began to translate into their respective clicks, noises and pheromones.\n\n“What we are discussing here can and will affect not just us, but all other animals above us, we are the earth’s chosen people, being uniquely gifted to helping to grow and live. Therefore for us to take such drastic action we must discuss this like the civilised people we are!”\n\nA few nods of agreement fell over the crowds, while the last of the translations finished up.\n\n“I am aware that you have formed yourselves into several different factions, I will call each faction to send a single representative to speak on their behalf, they will give a speech outlining their position and after all factions have their say, we shall have a vote, a vote however where every from their conscious and not within voting blocs, is this not fair?\n\nThe president looked round, so see that representatives were nodding, albeit reluctantly in some cases.\n\n“I call first, for the representative from the Anti-War faction to begin” This caused an uproar from the pro-war faction and disgruntled gruffs from several others, but this was silenced with a swift band of the gavel from the president.\n\nA small Ant Queen, this Ant queen was young for her species, barely even a year old, of course that was several lifetimes for many insect species. She walked up to the front, and stood in front of the collected representatives from the insects. The room turned quiet as the Ant queen prepared itself to speak.\n\n“My fellow insects, I came now to you to consider mercy for these creatures. Never before have we insects ever declared unilateral war against an entire species. As you all know my species is one of the more long lived of us, this is a fact you cannot deny. The written chronicles of my people goes back further and none have done more to study these, human’s as they call themselves than us!” There was much nodding in agreement to this statement, as it was common knowledge that Ant’s were able to observe the Humans at a closer range than many insects due to scouting armies and in several cases where a colony has been “adopted” by humans.\n\n“For this I say leniency must be granted, as from what we have seen the humans live impossibly long lives, putting some of our oldest colonies to shame, in the ages of a single generation. With that we must think of things in terms them being a new species, young and still finding itself into its environment. If we ants had killed every new species that evolved, many of you would not he here today. So I ask of you, my insect brethren, to show mercy to this new species, and to look for other solutions to the problems. Thank you” With that, the Anti-War faction exploded into applause, with this the president noting that many of the Pro-war factions reluctantly clapping. Ants were highly respected and this showed why he thought.\n\n“I know call forward to representative of the Pro-War faction” the president bellowed to the now excited room.\n\nA Young mosquito walked up to the front of the room. This was no surprise to the president, the mosquito’s were well known for their hatred of humanity, and had been actively fighting them for most of humanity’s life on this planet.\n\nAs the mosquito started to speak the room turned deathly quiet once more.\n\n“Insects, I came towards you again, to speak of the ills of this disastrous species. Once again we are discussing going to war on them, this is 8th time is officially been debated and each time prior, your forefathers have not had the stomach to do what is necessary. The world is damaged, and it is continuously being damaged, but this evil species, the pollute the ground, water and even the air with their waste, the destroy land so that they can live without care to their animal brethren and most heinous of all, they perform acts of mass genocide at seeming random occurrences!.\n\nWhile I respect the words of the Ants and our President here, if we truly are the guardians of the Earth, then we are failing her by letting these ‘Humans’ run wild, killing us and our precious planets indiscriminately.\n\nAnt’s, do you not remove infected drones from your hives, to save the rest of the hive?” The mosquito asked towards the Anti-War faction, the young Queen from earlier reluctantly nodded.\n\n“Then by your logic we should remove the infection that is humans, so that the great hive of earth can continue to live!” With that, there was uproar from the Anti-War faction, with many booing.\n\nA young Caterpillar shouted from the crowd, “We know you motivations, you are speciesist!”\n\n“We know the score, more like!!, I know many of you haven’t agreed with our methods, with virus and germ warfare against the humans, but know that we only did what we know was right!” With that the mosquito walked of stage to resounding applause.\n\nThe president sighed, humanity was rarely an aspect in his species life, another reason he was elected, but even his species were beginning to be affected, with the light pollution at night making it harder for his brethren to navigate." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Lately a gruesome string of murders has been happening all over your city, and the killer was never caught. They stream the murders online, starting with the view of the house. One night, you catch the stream and are surprised to see the killer approaching your house..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The video was green and grainy, the night vision feature active, but I could still tell it was my house from the mailbox shaped like a Xenomorph's head. The video was streaming live, with a few seconds delay between reality and virtual update. He, and yes it was established the murderer was a \"he\" based on how his body looked when turned from the camera. The house, my house now, was a two-story-copy-paste sort of house with brown stucco walls and gray shingles, but in the film grain of the murderers camera, I could only see the shades of green and the TV I left on in the living room. I was home alone, my husband was on a business trip and I hated the house being empty.\n\nThe murderer stepped quietly towards the gate to the backyard, and the tell tale squeak, audible on my phone but inaudible in real life, spurred me into action.\n\nI placed all gallon of ice cream I had brought put back into the freezer, and pulled out the gallon of milk. I hurried to the darkened stairs, grateful for the narrow rug we used to keep from slipping. I stepped with the lightness of bare feet, and pulled the rug up with me, along with the gallon of milk. A quick look showed the would be killer had begun inspecting the kitchen windows and back door, which I left unlocked, fool that I was. Shoving the bundled rug into the game room, I let the gallon spill over the now bare and polished wood. It almost broke my heart thinking of how warped it may be in the morning.\n\nOnly pausing to see that the sleuth was slowly opening the sliding door, I opened the hallway closet, and pulled a box of thumbtacks out of a basket, aided by the half light of my phone. The killer had stealthily opened a drawer. I knew he did this every time. He uses an unconventional weapon of opportunity to kill his victims. I sprinkled thumbtacks onto the carpeted rug, sure that in all his videos, the wannabe grim reaper was wearing those unfashionable toe shoes.\n\nI looked at his weapon of choice and had to stifle a giggle. I mean really? A cheese grater? Ugh, that would have taken far too long. I added a finishing touch to my trap by gently tugging a small pull cord in the ceiling of the second floor hall. I stepped through to the half open door of the master bedroom and hid behind the door.\n\nThe video was key to my plan, and I knew the life taker kept it rolling until the final scene was the victims lifeless eyes staring back at you. I watched as the murderer combed the downstairs, eventually finding no one, and proceed up the stairs. At that moment I linked my Spotify to the Google Home, and blasted Barbie Girl by Aqua.\n\nThe camera whipped around at the sound and the killer, tense with perverse anticipation, was like a guitar string, quivering. The camera panned back up the steps as he hurried up. What followed next was almost enough to make me cry out from laughter. He managed to knock both of his knees in a great clatter up the stairs, graze his own knuckles on the cheese grater, and had to catch himself to keep from slipping again before he made the final landing. Of course, him stepping on the milk gallon caused him to jump forward into the dark hallway, directly onto the thumbtacks. I heard him cry out, loudly this time, right outside the door. That was when I decided to slam the bedroom door shut.\n\nA loud WHUMP accompanied by a collapsing body told me that all went to plan.\n\nI gleefully went to the hallway, turned the light on, and bent over to check the man's breathing. He was alive, but unconscious. I picked up his phone and positioned it for the reveal. . ." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: The greatest con of all time: The Devil, named God, convinces humanity that he is our creator. We must love and obey him, else we burn in eternal hellfire. Meanwhile, our true creator, Satan, just wants us to love ourselves and be happy, but struggles to get through to his children." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Somewhere in the annals of human history it was decided that omnipotence and benevolence go hand in hand. That regardless of intent, an all-knowing, all-seeing creator must act primarily as a caretaker of its creation. To utilize their ephemeral nature to better humanity in one way or another. A God serving to provide solace to the most innate human need, yearning for meaning that is representative of the self.\n\nThis isn’t necessarily implying that creation is the result of malevolence either. That humanity merely exists to prove that we are all inevitably the worst versions of ourselves. Some parlor bet between God and Satan to prove our true worth. Tying a creator to such uniquely human traits serves to allegorically personify such an entity, but shouldn’t be seen as necessary components of omnipotence.\n\nIf anything it should be the other way around. Arguing that omnipotence is only tangible in a rational world. A universe defined by a set of laws and follows precedent in all of its actions. And that creation is merely the byproduct of a rational God, all-knowing, albeit within the confines of what is expected to happen. But this was all thrown astray when God decided to put a perfect representation of itself in a pile of inevitable to decompose flesh.\n\nWhen Adam and Eve first stepped foot in Eden it wasn’t that they were in the representation of a perfectly benevolent world. This would imply a level of meaning that otherwise shouldn’t have existed. For the past eternity, for all intents and purposes, entities followed logical order. The planets orbited suns, galaxies flew through space. Living beings existed to procreate and inevitably diversify.\n\nSo when a three pound pile of tissue is bombarded with an omnipotent soul, the resultant effect is existential angst. A purveying sense that there is something more, and that despite being driven by rational biological processes, that each individual entity is capable of more than the limitation of their bodies. And so Eve ate the fruit of knowledge with the hopes that it would free her from her fleshy cage.\n\nAnd God understood that something was amiss, but within the confines of rational omnipotence was incapable of fully restraining humanity. Somehow a perfect being now incapable of understanding what Adam and Eve would do next. For the first time, a miniscule part of the universe incapable of acting as it should. Constantly working against their best interests in search of something they could not possibly fully discern.\n\nAs Adam and Eve turned into collectivized societies, the search for higher meaning began to take on new levels of complexity. A creator now watched as its beings tried to rationalize their own grotesque omnipotence, but constantly fall short, limited by their ape-like sentiments. And despite not having the ability to directly intervene, its own divine omnipotence falling short, began to shape behavior through the implementation of morality.\n\nCentral edicts and commandments tried to elucidate the ills of their societies. Providing the structure to prevent the collapse of humanity. To even inch them closer to the perfection of their creator. And yet despite the pleas to each human’s soul, God still saw them slip further and further away. Realizing that maybe even less of the soul was able to permeate the brain than even they had presumed. And needed to confront the animal instead.\n\nAnd through the threat of fire and brimstone scared the masses into submission. Albeit not God’s first choice, proved to be the most effective. And the distinction between benevolence and malevolence began to permeate the religious experience. That an omnipotent being desires benevolence, but can only act so through the threat of violence. Debasing its own sense of self, giving itself irrational traits, to quell the irrational masses.\n\nWhen the devil convinced Eve to eat the fruit of knowledge, it wasn’t trying to enact a certain agenda or to settle a score. The devil convinced Eve because it was an allegorical necessity to prove to humanity that it had to listen to a being with benevolent omnipotence. That humanity’s very nature is based on its flaws, but still had a place in this world. The reality that mankind’s being an ill-conceived amalgamation of omnipotence in a limited vessel. An entity that truly doesn’t have a rational place in this universe, and that they will never truly be able to find meaning because of it." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: The Hero bursts into the bar, weapon raised, and proclaims that the Villain is hiding somewhere among them. You avoid his gaze. It's not that you can't take him. It's just that it's your day off, dammit, and you're gonna enjoy it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“A fresh glass of gin, barkeep.” The villain requested quietly in his dark, smoky voice.\n\nThe bartender gives a short nod, grabs the bottle of gin, and waddles back over. He deftly pours the gin into the foggy glass.\n\n“Another rough day Morbus?”\n\n“Au contraire, my friend. Today is a splendid day. A long-deserved day of leisure.”\n\nHe grabbed the glass from the bartender’s hand right as he finished pouring.\n\nThe bartender opened his mouth to bring up payment, but then slowly recalled what happened to the previous owner. The smell of burning human flesh and screaming briefly entered his mind until - a large pounding on the table by an adamantine sword.\n\n“Greetings, inn-keeper! My name is Galathorn! Savior of the Iron-hold! Conqueror of the Barbari! Heart-breaker of princess Ysolda.” He winked at this last line.\n\nMorbus rolled his eyes and took a drink of gin, turning his face away from the hero.\n\n“How can I help you, dear sir?” Asked the bartender.\n\nThe hero appears a bit taken aback as speaks “well, my good man, I am seeking the infamous shadowy villain - Morbus the deathseer!”\n\nThe gravity of the situation finally came to the innkeeper. He glanced over to see Morbus inconspicuously getting up from the bar and gliding over the floor to his own booth.\n\n“I cannot say that I’ve seen such a character in my tavern.” A bead sweat went down his brow.\n\n“My benevolent entrepreneur” Galathorn began “if Morbus were here, I can assure that I could easily dispatch him. You needn’t worry yourself about his threats any longer.”\n\nThe innkeeper closed his eyes, thought for a moment, realizing he was giving himself away with this single gesture, opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He attempted again, but all he could hear was the movement of his tongue with no words. His vocal cords were gone. Tried as he might to scream, no noise was emitted.\n\nGalathorn quickly turned around, inspecting every patron of the room.\n\n“Okay, Morbus! Your time has come! Show yourself. No longer shall you hurt any innocents!”\n\nNo other patron made eye contact, including the shadow figure drinking in the corner booth the hero took note of.\n\nHe walked courageously forward and finally recognized the villain.\n\n“At long last! The infamous death dealer and scoundrel! Mor-“\n\n“Yes, yes. I’ve heard it all. Destroyer of cities. Slayer of men. Master of the shadows. I’m quite well aware. Would you be so kind as to leave me to my gin in peace?”\n\nGalathorn looked perplexed for a moment, before appearing paranoid. “A trick! A dastardly trick! Try any illusion you like, Morbus! It will not sway me.”\n\n“No illusions here, Garamond. I’m just a man enjoying a drink. Perhaps we could discuss this tomorrow? You’re interrupting my day off.”\n\nNow he was thoroughly confused. “D-day off? What do you mean?”\n\n“I mean that I’m not fighting today. Go away.”\n\n“But you, must fight? I’ve come to collect your head.”\n\n“And you’re more than welcome to attempt to do that tomorrow. I’m already upset I had to make the effort of turning the innkeeper mute.”\n\n“You scoundrel! You were the one who did this to that innocent patron of drink!”\n\n“He will be fine. It’s temporary anyway. Look-“ Morbus put a book on the table, and rummaged through the pages before finding the document and putting his cold, gray finger on it. “Here’s my calendar. Make an appointment. I’ll be happy to address this during one of my open slots.”\n\nGalathorn slowly lowered his sword and peered down at the paper. He begin scratching at his beard while perusing the document.\n\n“Well….” He began slowly. “What about next Tuesday, in the afternoon?”\n\nMorbus leaned over the document as well. “No, no. I forgot. That’s when I play badminton with my cousin.” He quickly wrote that into that day.\n\n“Okay…..how about the next Wednesday?”\n\n“Do you mean next Wednesday, or the Wednesday after the aforementioned Tuesday?”\n\n“The latter.”\n\nMorbus stared for a while at his agenda.\n\n“Well, I do have a luncheon that day. But it’s with the wizard from Icy Mount. He usually doesn’t droll on too much, so long as the topic of ice or goblins doesn’t come up. Perhaps we can say that Wednesday, but make it tentative?”\n\nGalathorn thought for a while, “well, I hadn’t planned on staying this long, but I suppose I could try to see what else needs done around here in the meantime.”\n\n“Sounds like we have it all figured out. It’s a date.” He quickly closed the calendar. “See you next Wednesday.”\n\n“See you then!” Galathorn began to walk out of the tavern, when he suddenly stopped: “he didn’t mark it down in his calendar….” He turned around but Morbus had already disappeared." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Every time an adventurer spent a night in the village, the town was attacked by zombies, skeletons, and exploding creatures. The villagers agreed they’d had enough—the next time an adventurer visited they would trade, but the only conversation the adventurer would get from them was “Hrmm.”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Sh, shh, they’re coming.”\n\n“You know the plan.” With a nod, the blacksmith scurried back to his forge. The baker and his wife struggled to keep a straight face as the large man sort of crab-walked back, his massive form crouched low in an attempt to hide. The other villagers were already about their day, carrying out baskets of laundry to hang and moving to and from the shops while their children played in the streets, but a few stopped to snicker as the blacksmith scuttled into his shop.\n\n“Will this work?”\n\n“It’s worth a shot,” the baker said. He patted his wife on the shoulder and turned to reenter their own shop, enjoying the scent of fresh-baked breads and honeyed rolls washing over him.\n\n“We can’t have another incident like the last time a group of adventurers rolled into town. It’s a miracle no one died.”\n\n“Aside from the mule.”\n\n“Yes, aside from the mule. But, well…”\n\n“What?”\n\n“He was an old mule. Probably not long for-“ The baker quieted at a glancing slap against his arm from his wife. That, combined with an arched brow and the shadow now looming through the glass window, sent him reeling behind the counter. With a glance back, his wife moved to his side just in time as the door swung open.\n\nWho stepped through was a person clad in full plate armor, ducking so not to catch the hilt of their greatsword slung across their back against the frame. Their every step sending the floorboards creaking in agony as they plodded toward the counter, and one stopped before the bakers, a gauntleted hand reached to flip up their visor.\n\nTwo piercing blue eyes met there, half covered by reddish-brown bangs.\n\n“I need something that keeps well. Do you have any hardtack?” The voice that reached their ears was shriller than they thought it’d be, though perhaps that was thanks to the way it echoed from the adventurer’s helmet.\n\n“Hrmm,” the baker’s wife said.\n\n\"Is that a yes?”\n\n“Hrmm,” the baker affirmed his wife’s original statement.\n\n“Great. I’ll need a week’s worth.” The two hurried to comply, and within minutes, they had a paper-wrapped package ready and on the counter for the adventurer.\n\n“How much?”\n\n“Hrmm.”\n\n“Can you state that as a monetary value?”\n\n“Hrmm.” The adventurer raised a heavy hand to lay two silver coins atop the counter.\n\n“Is that enough?”\n\n“Hrmm.”\n\n“It’s not? This is highway robbery…” Despite the complaints, they proceeded to lay another two coins down.\n\n“There, that should be enough.”\n\n“Hrmm.”\n\n“Hey, that’s asking for too much-“\n\n“Hrrm.” The baker’s wife leaned over the counter.\n\n“Alright, jeez.” Two more made their way onto the growing pile and, without taking time to confirm, the adventurer swiped up the bundle of tack and hurried out the door. All the while they mumbled to themself.\n\n“Town’s too expensive, don’t even want to see how much a room will cost me-“ And then their voice cut off, silenced as the door slammed shut. The baker and his wife took a moment, leaning over the counter to watch until the armored adventurer entered the blacksmith’s shop across the way, before they let out a collective sigh.\n\n“It worked!”\n\n“Hahah, you hear that? Won’t be staying here tonight, no, no. We won’t need to worry about any of those exploding critters or those skeletons anymore.”\n\n“Heck, with this much silver we could buy a new town mule too.” The two looked out the window to the blacksmith’s shop. There, they could see the blacksmith dealing with an increasingly flustered adventurer, who was now wavering their arms up and down in an attempt to communicate.\n\n“Darn adventurers. Good riddance.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: God is actually just middle management for a galactic world building corporation. God hates the job and is about to quit in spectacular fashion." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "God eagerly listens to his desk radio as the winning lottery numbers are about to be announced.\n\n\"6, 6, and 6!\" the DJ exclaims.\n\nGod sits at his desk, stunned. He stares at his computer screen for but a moment to comprehend what has just happened. He has played these numbers for the last 5000 years and never won. Until today.\n\nHe feels the adrenaline pouring through him as he bursts out of his chair, rashly making his way across the building to his boss's office. He considers what he will say to his boss upon arrival at his doorway, though his thoughts are clouded by a flood of emotions.\n\nGod's boss, Ron, is currently meeting with another employee, Dave. They are discussing the thriving world Dave has built over the last 15,000 years.\n\n\"As usual, your performance this past quarter has been excellent,\" Ron remarks. \"Your planet has excee-\"\n\n\"I am so out of here, fuckers!\" God interrupts Ron and Dave's meeting as he approaches the doorway to Ron's office.\n\n\"God! What is wrong with you?\" Ron demands an explanation.\n\n\"Fuck this job! Fuck this office! Fuck Dave's perfect utopia world! And especially fuck YOOOOOOUUUUUUU Ron! I just won the lottery and I never have to see any of you fuckfaces again!\" God exclaims at high volume.\n\nThe entire 24th floor of God's 35 story office building stands from their cubicles watching the scene unfold. In this moment, many worlds filled with many species are left unattended. Fifteen wars break out, eight natural disasters occur, and Tronald Dump becomes president of Omicron Persei Three.\n\nRon subtly presses a button on the underside of the surface of his desk, indicating to building security that their intervention is needed.\n\n\"You have a contract! I can sue you over this!\" Ron informs God.\n\n\"Here's what I think of your contract,\" says God. He turns and unbuckles his belt, sliding his pants down to reveal his buttocks and the posterior of his scrotum in Ron's doorway.\n\nDave turns his head in disgust. \"Well, this would explain why Earth has turned out the way it has,\" he condescendingly remarks.\n\nWith his ass and scrotum still revealed in close proximity to Dave and Ron, God turns his trunk and head to make eye contact with Dave. \"Everyone here hates you, Dave!\" Feeling like he has made his point, he pulls up his pants.\n\nGod casually makes his way back to his desk to collect his personal belongings. He takes one last look at Earth, the planet he has spent 5000 years and countless hours working on from his little cubicle. He begins to consider that he should cherish this moment, as it is the last time he will lay eyes on his long-time project. A smug grin then appears on his face. \"Let's see ya blame me for everything now, ya fuckin' idiots!\" he yells. His comment is specifically directed at the human race, an inhabitant of his world for which he blames for most of what is wrong with it.\n\nGod giddily grabs his bobblehead of Michael Jordan and his Chick-fil-A cows calendar and heads for the exit. On his way across the office, he waves to a couple of his more tolerable co-workers. But he is much more interested in leaving this prison for the last time than he is in saying goodbye to them.\n\nHe walks past Ron's office one last time and notices Ron standing in the doorway. \"Earth needs you, God! How can you do this to them? I've got nobody to replace you!\" Ron attempts to guilt God, hoping 5000 years has yielded an emotional connection between God and his work that will keep him here just a bit longer.\n\n\"That place fucking sucks, dude. Get real,\" God says as he hits the elevator button to the garage level for the last time.\n\nThe elevator arrives at his floor. Three men from building security step out and notice an arrogant, \"no fucks given\" look on God's face.\n\n\"Is this the guy giving you trouble?\" the lead security guard asks Ron.\n\n\"He assaulted me, gentlemen. Now he plans to escape,\" Ron fabricates.\n\nThe security team tackles God to the ground. Still filled with adrenaline, God attempts to wrestle all three of them off of him, but his efforts are fruitless.\n\n\"You fucking rent-a-cops can't do shit to me! I'm worth millions! Millions!\" God exclaims as the entire floor of the building has now been drawn to the scene. \"I didn't assault anyone, goddammit!\" he yells as security forces his face down into the carpet. As God is held prone on the floor, hand-cuffs are placed on him.\n\nRon casually waltzes over to where security holds God, unsuccessfully writhing to escape from their grasp. He pulls the lottery ticket out of the breast pocket on God's shirt. He carefully inspects the ticket in front of God, non-verbally taunting him.\n\n\"That's mine, motherfucker!\" God yells as the excitement and joy he felt moments ago has now developed into rage.\n\nRon grins directly at God as he rips the lottery ticket into eight tiny pieces and throws them into the air.\n\nGod's body begins to flail wildly as security struggles to contain him on the floor. \"I'll kill you!\" he yells to Ron as Ron walks back to his office.\n\nSecurity carries God into the elevator and down to the lobby as he continues to kick and yell and strike each security guard as hard as he can with each limb he has available. Security reclaims their handcuffs and tosses God out onto the sidewalk in front of the building and instructs him that he will be shot if he is seen on the premises again.\n\nGod lies on the sidewalk, heartbroken, crushed, embarrassed. He collects his thoughts and sits upright as tears fill his eyes. A single man with no family outside of his son Jesus, who has refused to acknowledge him ever since \"the incident\" 2000 years ago, he reflects on his life. All he had was his job. Now fortune-less and soon to be homeless, what will he do?\n\nHe reflects on all the mistakes he made in his handling of his project world, Earth, the only real thing he has ever done with his life. He begins to consider the concept of karma in relation to his current predicament. He breaths a sigh of disappointment in himself. \"I should've been better to those hungry little African kids,\" he concludes." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: The State Farm Agent stood amidst a ruined martian landscape, resting a plasma rifle on his shoulder. The dome was cracked, and the invaders had taken much of the population hostage. It was fine, their policy covered that, and he was their best... 'Neighbor.'" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Another jump. The sickening sensation of incredible speed, and a jingle that seemed to condense from one low, long drawn out note to a song the Agent had heard thousands of time. “-State Farm is there!” The ending of the summoning tune, respected and ancient beyond memory, as familiar to him as the Lord’s prayer to a clergyman, rang in his ears.\n\nHis crisp khaki pants were immediately stained by the arterial spray of the dying woman who had used her dying breath to summon him. A servile smile never faltered on his face, he was here to serve, and serve he would. He crouched down and watched as the light faded from her eyes. “Hi! I’m Jake from State Farm. How can help? She gurgled unintelligibly, desperate eyes rapidly fading. She pointed, and Jake followed her line of action up.\n\nThe Dome had stood for a thousand years untouched by the threat that had been sealed away. The planet, Humanity had found, was not as uninhabited as they’d hoped when they created this habitat. It had been a brutal war, but it had ended. Evidently, today was the day that it started again. Luckily for the people of Mars, they were insured by pact sealed long before the first man set foot on the red planet.\n\nThe Dome was now under siege. Dumb, hooked mouths raked at the durable plastimic clear shell, piled high against the side that should have been getting the rays of the weak Martian sun. They had not changed since they were sealed, except for now they seemed even hungrier. They had clambered over each other, many whip-like arms flailing like a sea of bat wings, till they had reached the top of the Dome. Evidently some intelligence drove them, the peak of the dome was made of more brittle panels meant to harness the power of the sun. A ray of dull sunlight pierced through the crack the vile beasts had made, and as he watched another 5 of the beasts dove or fell into the hab, thinly fleshed wings beating cyclicly.\n\n“I’d be happy to help, ma’am!” Jake cheerily said to the corpse. He strode purposefully and confidently towards the sound of rampant plasma fire. A burnt out building was under intense attack from the locals, and the a regiment of the local defense force had set up a hasty defense. A man screamed orders and desperate pleas for help into a bulky communicator in equal measure. One of the beasts swooped down from above and constricted him, its body contorting into sickening shapes and tearing into him simultaneously. It roared nonsense words as it tore into his flesh, and the sergeant fired blast after blast from his plasma rifle into the creature. Suddenly, the beast’s side simply tore apart, and the sergeant was pulled from its flailing corpse. It looked like a pile of evil tires covered in bat wings spewing opaque purple fluid. The man stared stupidly into his savior’s face. “Hey there! I’m Jake from State Farm! I’ll take it from here.” The sergeant handed him his plasma rifle. He had heard of the Good Neighbors as all of his people had in their childhoods, a tale told of ancient defenders that needed only to be sang a song to summon. He couldn’t believe is eyes, and some part of his mind decided that he had obviously lost too much blood and was bleeding out.\n\nThat didn’t bother Jake, who hefted the plasma rifle to his shoulder and fired off two quick blasts. The front of the building had been torn away and on different levels quick defenses had been thrown up. Everywhere the beasts thrashed and tore into human flesh, their strange circular bodies wrapping around them. The two blasts caught two of the beasts at seemingly insignificant areas, and the humans that had been trapped crawled free. “Their head is directly behind their 3rd set of anterior wings,” Jake said chipperly to one hapless soldier as he hauled him to his feet, “if you have any questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to reach out!” He continued onward at an almost leisurely pace, and fired into the thrashing enemy swarm.\n\nFinally, it was over. Jake had helped begin repairs on the solar panels himself. He stood back and smiled at a gracious contractor. The man bowed slightly to him, always calling him “Guardian Neighbor,” and smiling like a child. Then it came, far, far away the notes of a song. Another jump. The sickening sensation of incredible speed, and a jingle that seemed to condense from one low, long drawn out note to a song the Agent had heard thousands of time." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You just got bit by a zombie. You're turning quickly. Your dog notices your change and tries desperately to make you bite him. Simply because he doesn't want to live without you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The flesh from my shoulder had been entirely torn away. The blood gushed from the open wound, running warm down my chest and arm, but I could feel myself getting cold.\n\nI had made it 57 days without getting bitten. There had been some narrow escapes, and more than a few times, I had only made it with Dodger’s help. But now it was over, and Dodger looked up at me with big, brown eyes and a whimper escaping his fuzzy muzzle. I wasn’t careful enough, and this time, Dodger was too late.\n\nWe were out on a supply run. Food was getting low and Dodger and I were both going to need clean water soon. We picked our way through an abandoned office building, hoping the water cooler hadn’t been taken by some other survivor. When I spotted it, and saw that it was still more than half full, I rushed over in excitement, forgetting to check the cubicles.\n\nThe zombie that got me lay in three pieces on the ground. The leg that Dodger tugged off lay several feet from the rest of the body, and the head I had finally managed to hack off was hanging from a bit of skin, but all the important stuff had been severed. He wore a striped button-down and slacks, but his tie was wrapped around his arm like he had tried to stop the bleeding from the bite mark in his wrist. It was over for me too now. But even as I slumped to the ground and lost feeling in my legs, I was thankful that at least he hadn’t gotten my dog.\n\nI started feeling weak right away. In an effort to keep Dodger alive after I was gone, I knocked the water cooler over, spilling the contents of the jug onto the stiff blue carpet. But instead of rushing over to take a drink, Dodger continued to just sit and whine.\n\n“C’mon, Dodge. Come get a drink, buddy.” I tried to sound chipper, and my voice was still clear, but my throat was getting dry. Even though I was thirstier than I had ever been, I didn’t want to get any blood in his water.\n\nDodger was a Christmas gift when I was 20. He was a white German Shepherd – the same as one I saw in a movie and told my parents I loved. He had been my best friend for 6 years, and when everyone I knew died, he stayed with me. We kept each other safe. Even now, I didn’t feel like he had failed me – I felt like I was failing him for leaving him alone.\n\nSlumped against a cubicle wall in that abandoned office building, time seemed to slow. I could hear Dodger’s small cries and the jug gurgling as it emptied out. My breathing getting heavier and raspier. I stopped asking and started begging Dodger to please, please just get a drink before the carpet soaked it all up. Pleading with him not to let this whole trip be a waste. Finally, Dodger stood up, but instead of going to the jug, he came closer and sat on my lap.\n\nI buried my face in his neck fluff and cried. I hadn’t wanted to show him that I was scared, but I should have known better. No one had ever known me as well as he did. For as long as I felt I could risk it, I sat with him on my outstretched legs, with my arms around his neck and sobbing into his fur. Like a good boy, he just sat there letting me cry as long as I wanted to, crying with me. Finally, when I felt it was getting too dangerous for him to stay, I pushed him away. It was hard to say anything at all, but even harder to tell him to leave.\n\n“G – get out. Get out of here, Dodge- Dodger. Go.”\n\nMy voice sounded like there was gravel in it. Breathing was taking almost all my effort. I knew that soon, I’d be one of the undead, and he needed to leave. Now. I kept trying to push Dodger away, but he was solid, and I was getting too weak to try. Even worse, I was getting hungry. The more I pushed him, the closer he moved. I knew he knew what was happening, I just didn’t understand why he wouldn’t go. Dodger had seen this happen to others – he knew he was in danger.\n\nHe looked into my eyes, and then, very deliberately pressed his head against my mouth. I planted a kiss on him, but then, I felt my lips pull back and my teeth graze his fur. When I realized what I was doing, I threw myself on the ground, determined not to be the one to kill my dog. My voice was barely a whisper, and I could hardly move my arms, but I spent every breath begging Dodger to run. Instead, he kept moving closer.\n\nI was gasping for air, blowing bubbles in the blood. Very carefully, Dodger put his paw in my mouth, and I finally understood. My heart broke. If it had been him laying in a puddle of blood like I was, I might have done the same thing. I gently moved his paw from between my lips and told him he was a good boy, and I loved him more than anything.\n\nHe lay down next to me in the sticky puddle, turning his white coat red. When things went dark, he was still there, looking into my eyes." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: Getting into heaven requires a trial involving almost everyone a person has ever known. As a result, purgatory is more of a holding area." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "...A flash of white light and...darkness.\n\nThe next thing I see is a strange bald short man in a typical office getup.\n\n\"Hello, My names Tony,youre dead, and I am your reaper\" The man says casually.\n\n\"Err.Hello Tony...im...dead?\" I ask.\n\n\"Thats right, terrible traffic accident, died right on the spot at the age of 43. Pretty rough way to go but let me tell ya its not the worst.\" Tony says as if ges talking about coffee blends.\n\nI start to ask.more questions but tony quickly cuts me off.\n\n\"Before I lead you to your trial, il need to do some processing. What age would you like me to register your immortal soul as? You can pick any number between when you gained your faith and your death. If at any point during your life you didnt have faith in at least one of the following...\" Tony sighs and pulls out what looks like a handful of reference flashcards.\n\n\"Sorry, I cant remember these damn things\" Tomy mumbles, as he starts going through the flash cards.\n\n\"Paganism, Buddhism,Sikth, New Age Christianity, Marxism,Anarcho Capitalism,Anarcho Monarchy,\n\nMinimalism, Muslim, Any form of organised charity excluding awareness campaigns, italian culture, japanese culture, Waifusim, SuperWhoLock,Metal Culture,Sword Geeks and I quote, this ones a dosey\"Those kind of people that split oreos in two and in general take their time with things\"\n\nTony sighs, lowering the flash cards.\n\n\"But...most of those arent even religions, the hell's waifuisim?\"\n\nTony shakes his head \"Dont ask. No religion is right, theres only one god, omnipotent but not omnipresence - which I KNOW is contradictory but you know what I mean. That list are things ths big guy respects, either ironically or unironicly, or just straights up finds funny.\"\n\n\"Huh\" I ask. \"What if you didnt fall in any of those categories?\"\n\nTony sighs. Tony seems to Sigh a lot. \"If you fall under none, your immortal souls age will be set at 69 as the default. If you have died before that age your immortal souls age will be determined by a roll of 2d6s.\"\n\n\"Thats....so unprofessional\" I say.\n\nTony sighs \"Youve seem nothing yet\". Tony shuffles some papers \"According to my papers here you owned 5 different swords between the ages of 33 and 36 until you were tragically forced to sell them. At the ages of 12 til 13 you also adopted a strange japanese persona which I think can count\".\n\n\"I guess il go with 33\" and as soon as I say that I find myself back in my 33 year old body. Naked.\n\nTony nods \"Safest choice. Please follow me to the closet\" Tony snaps his fingers and suddenly we are in a huge walk in closet.\n\n\"According to the afterlife laws you shall be given 10 minutes to pick your outfit. Thus outfit shall be forever imprinted onto your immortal soul so please choose wisely. Failure to pick an outfit within the time limit means youll be put into this jumpsuit\" Tony points at a jumpsuit with the words INDECISIVE Printed large in front and back in big huge block letters. \"Your time starts...\" Tomy clicks a stopwatch. \"Now\".\n\n\"Just give me a custom tailored black suit\" I say almost instantaneously. No way am I risking having to wear that thing for all eternity.\n\nTony smiles \"3 seconds. Woah. A new record\" Tony snaps again and im back in the office in my snazzy new suit.\n\n\"Congratulations, you are now an immortal soul. welcome to the afterlife.\" Tony says in a very dull and monotone voice.\n\n\"Thank you...errm..now what?\"\n\nTony sighs \"As an immortal soul of the afterlife you are free to explore this plane at your leisure. You may also take God's trial for extra perks and benefits\"\n\n\"Wait...what about heaven and hell, eternal torture and eternal paradise.\"\n\nTony sighs. \"Thats not how it works. Right now your personal ranking is at zero. Means you have no obligations but no benefits\" Tony points out the office door, and its just wide empty space...theres no one here, its just me and tony and this office.\n\n\"Your ranking will drop by 10 points per year until you reach rank 100, which means you can either go back to earth and reincarnate or join gods...\" Tony lets out a big, big sigh. \"Gods divine angelic harem\".\n\n\"Oh...and can your ranking go in the negatives?\"\n\nTony nods. \"Indeed it can, a wicked soul, like a murder will start at negative 100. Which means...\" Tony claps his hands and a little portal shows up.\n\nOn the other side of the portal is a man carrying huge bags of...some sort of strange rainbow colored liquid. \"Means intense physical labour. Remember omnipotent but not omnipresence, extra hands are always needed.\"\n\nWheels start turning. 'Wait so youre...\"\n\nTony sighs. \"That is correct. My ranking is -53, soul crushing office work\".\n\n\"Ok.so how do I get my ranking up?\"\n\nTony sighs \"Oh boy, here we go\"\n\nTony pulls out a giant book.\n\n\"This is your trial book\" Tony says. \"It is a list of people youve ever made contact with. To improve your ranking you can choose one and take their trial\"\n\n\"Ok\" I nod, letting tony continue.\n\n\"Once you pick a person you shall relive every moment youve had with that person - this will be a simulated experience. During that simulation you must...and I quote\"\n\nTony sighs.\n\n\"You must either seduce and sleep with them, assassinate them, prank them \"Epiclly\" or make them say the sentence \"Oh geez scoob, I sure could go for some scooby snacks right now, arf arf.\"\n\n\"thats...\" Tony cuts me off.\n\n\"Please note that a successful undertaking of a trial is not a guarantee of a rank increase. You must use your own judgement to see which one of those \"treatments\" they deserve.\"\n\nTony sighs. \"Thats it\".\n\n\"What the hell\" I say..\"Can I...can I start a trial?\"\n\nTony sighs...\"As the law states, your very first trial must be...\"\n\nI cut tony off \"Let me guess, the 69th person ive ever made contact with in my life?\"\n\nTony smiles \"Indeed. Now youre getting it\".\n\n\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You are about to graduate from the top underground hitman academy in the world. The school just released the class rankings and you are number one. Your classmates would like to see that changed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Some people would say that its hard being the best. Being the best of the best by extension would be a near impossible job. So many expectations and comparisons happening constantly at all hours by all people. Your mom, dad, mentor, friends, enemies. The random kid on the corner you'd never seen before. The kid on the other side of the world you'll never know about.\n\nI was the best of the best of my world, and I knew it. Everyone else knew it. But my world was tiny, stretching to the boundaries of my school. It was an exclusive school. For the best. Then they trained us to kill people. You can't boast about that. Therefore, my world was tiny. Kill and avoid being killed. Simple in theory.\n\nAnd today, I found that I was the best of these best. Our leaderboard published the latest numbers, and I was bumped up past my rival, Edward, by a big margin. We'd been neck and neck, our rivalry famous. As was school tradition, we regularly tried to take each other out of the running. The school only had rules about this as so not to kill the entire student body, or damage the premises. Poison, claymores, sniping, hand-to-hand. All of them were allowed and exercised regularly in the darkened corners between classes.\n\nI call them classes, but they were more like regulated obstacle courses. Day after day we were run through variations of indoor, outdoor, urban, suburban, minefield-esq, and other arenas designed to simulate real world environments. We practiced with real and paintball weapons, and rotated who was the assassin and who was the assassin hunter. This was where I always excelled.\n\nEveryone hated me, respected me yes, but loathed me. For I would gun them down in stealth or brazen frontal assaults. I was untouchable in practice, in theory.\n\nToday, I knew they'd all be gunning for me.\n\nWe had two weeks left for our final evaluations. My guess was that the instructors hoped rankings would inspire us. It was up to me to hold onto my place with every ounce of skill I could muster. Really, I had a lot to muster.\n\nThe first traps were obvious. They were out for real blood, so the dull string across my dorm room entrance was easy, almost expected. +1 claymore mine. I drank and ate from sources that I had prepared carefully myself, poisons were too obvious.\n\nI knew it had begun in earnest when my first safehouse was compromised. The poor homeless man I'd allowed to stay, cleanup and use my stuff was torn to shreds by the hail of machinegun fire from an adjacent building.\n\nBut Edward knew where to find me. He knew I was anticipating the lesser players. He knew that I liked to watch.\n\nWhen my second safehouse was compromised by the third rank, Edward found me two buildings over with my favorite .50 caliber rifle. Scope stalking was always fun, especially when I could... interact.\n\nI watched as Number Three used a clearing charge to blow in the front door, tossing in a smoke and two flash bang grenades. Tumble rolling into the door to cover his angles was a well considered tactic. But it didn't save him as I put one through his heart at 200m.\n\nI almost didn't hear him. One minute I was plugging my competitor, the next I heard the chink, and tonk of a thrown grenade hit the ground behind me.\n\nI'd already been in motion, moving as snipers always should, and only caught half the concussive force as I threw myself around the stairwell wall.\n\nHead ringing, I tossed a flashbang in response.\n\nBullets tore chunks out of my cover wall, but the low caliber made it more offensive than harmful.\n\n\"Is that the best you've got?\" came a taunt. He was close. He knew he'd tagged me. Overconfidence was making him stupid.\n\nUsing your surroundings and making opportunity were the hallmarks of a good assassin. I had a claymore handy.\n\nI buried the mine among the roof's albedo pebbles, and threaded the wire to be obscured by the white rocks to the ledge.\n\nJust in time. Cackling maniacally I shouted \"catch me if you can\"\n\nHe rounded the bend, guns blazing wildly. But I was already jumping. Parachute pack ready, I looked at him from 20m away, watched him charge to catch me as I fell out of sight.\n\nBoom.\n\nGuess I'm still first in my class." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: \"Listen rookie, take it from me, guards that run towards the blood-curdling screams don't last for very long.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“There are three kinds of security guards in this business, lad,” the grizzled officer said, “The ones who do, the ones who don’t, and the ones who go ‘squish,’ which one do you want to be?”\n\nAlan shifted nervously and scratched the back of his hand. He always did that when he was uncomfortable. Sergeant Batts told him it was a “tell” and he should drop the habit, yet Alan only found himself doing it more, especially when Batts was around.\n\n“Well boy?”\n\nAlan jumped at Batts growl.\n\n“Um, I’d rather be the one who…does.”\n\n“Hmmph,” Batts huffed, “We’ll make a man of you yet.”\n\nWithout a word Batts spun on his heel and headed down the hall. Alan trailed behind. This was a huge opportunity for him. Voidfish was a huge food supplier for the galaxy, and this was their primary distribution center for the entire Lyndri Cluster. Several thousand security personnel manned the enormous orbital station. They were practically a standing army with ranks, heavy weaponry, and all. The best of the best, his dad always said. Which meant he had hundreds of potential mentors.\n\nJust his luck that the stocky, grizzled, ill-mannered x-starforce sergeant decided to be his first. There was something about the man’s cold steel blue eyes set beneath a large blocky brow that unnerved him…along with everyone else. The tousle of brownish silver blonde hair was just irregular enough to complete the picture.\n\nAt first look Batts was a battle hardened, war battered, damaged man, yet he was enigmatic in his own way. Alan felt rather than knew there was something more to him than knowing how to take and give a punch.\n\nAnd then he crashed into him.\n\nThe short sergeant wheeled on Alan and pushed him into a wall. Alan’s head banged painfully against the dull steel plates that encased them.\n\n“Stuck in dreamland, boy?” Batts growled, “What did I just tell you?”\n\n“That some security guards go squish?”\n\n“Yes, and why do you think that is?”\n\n“Because you squish them?” Alan replied, his voice barely more than a squeak.\n\nTo Alan’s surprise, the normally stoic face of his SO cracked in the hint of a smile. It might have been pleasant, but the craggy features swallowed whatever joy there might have been. A moment later the crack welded shut and the hand on his collar released.\n\n“You got that right, boy.”\n\n“My name is Alan.”\n\nAlan flinched when Batts wheeled on him again, but no strike came. Instead Batts was looking at him with…it couldn’t be!...a tiny bit of respect.\n\n“So you are, Alan, so you are.”\n\nThe bastard was testing him! Alan shook his head and continued to follow his SO on their rounds. They walked in silence down countless sleeping corridors. This was called the distribution center than never sleeps by the population, but that wasn’t quite true. All humans needed to sleep. This was the barracks. It was broken out in three blocks for each shift. Whenever a shift was resting, their block was silent as a grave but for the gentle padding and soft voices of guards on rounds.\n\n“Where is your home, Alan?” Batts asked, breaking the silence.\n\n“Terra 126,” Alan replied.\n\n“The mining colony?”\n\n“Yessir.”\n\n“What made you come all the way out here to face a life of danger when you could live in comfort and safety operating a mining drone remotely?”\n\n“The same reason every boy does,” Alan replied, “I want to make the galaxy safer.”\n\nBatts paused his steps and something gravely issued from his chest that might have been a sigh, “Every generation is the same,” he whispered.\n\n“What’s that?”\n\n“Every generation is the same,” Batts repeated, “Your parents gave you a good childhood and you felt like you were in heaven and everything is beautiful and dandy. Then you grew up and saw it isn’t, and somehow someway, you got it into your head that you could be a hero and make things all better. Is that it?” The x-starforce operative’s voice was almost mocking.\n\nAlan dropped his amber eyes to the floor, “No, sir. I wouldn’t put it like that, sir.”\n\n“Go on.”\n\n“My dad was cool as shit, if you’ll pardon the–”\n\n“I don’t give a fuck.”\n\n“--right, um. My dad was the shit. My mom was…well, abusive, emotionally neglectful. She used to beat me just for trying to talk to her sometimes. Eventually, I started writing her letters because speaking was too dangerous. Sometimes she replied, sometimes she didn’t, and if I asked for a reply, I got screamed at…”\n\nAlan kept his eyes on the floor. He half expected the sergeant to mock him more. Boohoo and all that. But nothing passed the man’s lips.\n\nAlan looked up to find Batts looking at him strangely.\n\n“I see,” Batts finally said, “You saw both sides. The good and the bad. The beautiful and the ugly, but it was different than how you’re taught it is. The person who was supposed to be the great example of beauty in your life, was ugly, and the one who was supposed to prepare you for the ugliness of life, was beautiful. And now you want to make the world better because you are a good soul.”\n\nAlan laughed. It was a boyish thing, “Who knew the indomitable Sgt. Batts could be such a philosopher?”\n\n“Hmmph,” Batts growled, turning to continue the rounds.\n\n“Tell me more about your life, Private Alan. Do you have a girlfriend waiting for you back home?”\n\nAlan didn’t reply for a long time.\n\nBatts stopped and Alan nearly crashed into him again. The sergeant turned slowly and looked up at him, “You’ve never been with a woman have you?”\n\nAlan said nothing.\n\n“Man?”\n\nAlan was shocked out of his internal reverie by this and shook his head, long brown hair tied back in a ponytail bouncing against one shoulder then the other.\n\n“Neither,” he replied." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A quiet driver picks up a lone hitchhiker in the middle of the night. Someone in the car is a serial killer." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The lights of the pickup, a aged but well maintained workhorse scanned across the dry brush and withered grass of a dry august in Utah. A frantic gesture cut across the beam as the haggard looking woman silently begged for rescue.\n\nHarolds face quirked and he pulled in a few metres further on, rolled down the window and waited laconically for the head that popped into frame.\n\n''You ok darling?''\n\nThe relief washed palpably across the woman's face and she inhaled deeply a ragged dryness evident from the course grate of her esophagus. Harold scanned her as she caught her breath, youngish maybe 35 wearing clothes tattered not through long use but some recent immediate incident and splashes of something dark and dried hard, maybe thin mud... maybe blood.\n\nA dry croak issued ''Please help, help'' He frowned and scrambled a hand into the recesses of a door pocket fishing out a half full bottle of Gatorade ''Here'' he offered and both her hands, nails split and knuckles scabbed, grabbed feverishly for it pulling free the top and gulping it down. The lukewarm beverage gave immediate colour and relief to her face and she sagged perceptibly ''Thank god, thank god'' she muttered.\n\n''The hell happened to you?''\n\nShe gulped again. ''My husband, hes dead...'' Tears welled but she was too dehydrated to weep and dry sobs racked her. Harold's adrenaline spiked and he instantly became more alert ''Dead?, dead how?''\n\nShe grasped the door and her bloody knuckles tightened white beneath the red ''Maniac... a maniac killed him..''\n\n''Whut?'' He looked round nervously his eyes flashing in the rear view mirror.\n\n''He was a hitchhiker...we stopped and he said he was, he was...'' more gulps ''he was looking at the falls so we said we would give him a lift and we would like to see the falls too so we went down this track but when we got out to walk he stabbed Jack and went to stab me'' she clutched desperately at her chest ''He stabbed him'' again she dissolved into sobs ''I had my gun'' she wrestled with a pocket and dragged out a dusty little silver pistol. Harold's hand shot out and grabbed the weakly waved weapon, even in his fifties he still had the reflexes of a younger man and he gently took it from her, pulled the magazine and racked the slide, both were empty and he dropped both into the center console '' Ok, Ok calm down''\n\nShe took a deep breath '' I got him but he didn't stop, so I got in the car but the keys were gone so I ran, I ran...'' she wailed ''Oh god Jack, he killed Jack'' Harold leaned over and popped the door '' get in darling its ok, its ok, you're safe now'' he fumbled for his mobile as she dropped exhausted on the seat ''Thank you... Oh God thank you'' He pulled out the phone but even as he did remembered that the battery had run dry during his phone call with June a half hour earlier, the old couple had jawed for a long time before the low power had beeped and cut them off. Still he tried to power it up again, nothing.\n\n''Shit'' he muttered and put it back '' Don't worry darling'' He turned the key and drew back onto the road ''My house is only 50 miles or so up this road'', ''We'll call the cops and have JuJu make you a cup of something hot, don't worry, don't worry''\n\nI couldn't believe my luck, when I had hopped under this tarp at the last gas station I had only wanted to put a few miles between me and that body but now when we got home I was gonna get Harold, June and the bitch that shot me too." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You can predict the future, but no one believes your predictions." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There’s that common trope. The oracle staring into the pond, grimacing at the fire and flames encroaching on the present. Cue the flash-forward. Soldiers clutching the arrow in their chests, tipping off the side of their horses thumping into the ground. The horde of barbarians screams victory into the wind as we slowly zoom back. “What did you see?” The oracle with precision to their words proclaims a warning. “Are you sure you want to know?”\n\nEven more inaccurate, yet without as much overt cinematic experience, is the classic Tralfamadorian problem. The soothsayer not seeing the future insomuch as experiencing time in an indirect manner. That the human experience is at most an incomplete experience of the world, but more aptly a complete bastardization of how existence is supposed to be. The past, present, future having already occurred, or occurring simultaneously. For eternity. And when the old man walks up to his wife’s grave, shouldn’t weep because she is currently existing in so many other different times. So it goes. But it shouldn’t.\n\nHumans will always be humans, being able to see the future doesn’t make you a god. The world to humans will always move in a linear fashion. In fact, being able to look into the future manifests itself much more subtly, and without quite the pomp and circumstance. Without the religious overtones of determinism, without the crushing burden of free-will. And for most people who have this ability, a vast majority will never even know they have it. It’s like a muscle that you maybe have an inkling exists, but for it to rear its head into existence must be worked out. And perfected. And practiced. And at most will help you see a few seconds into the future.\n\nI first noticed it when I was young. I would often listen to speeches on the TV, and without much thought would mouth along with the orator. Something so mundane that it never really entered my consciousness as something worth noting. Would take notes during class, sometimes getting a word or two ahead of their lectures. And this is why it seems so unremarkable to most people who have the skill. Without practice you’re capable of maybe seeing a second or two into the future. Not enough time to impact anything really. Something you assume everyone else does too.\n\nAnd so life went on. Going through the awkwardness of puberty, first crushes, rejections. Making friends, losing some. College, work, the daily grind, getting married. And so on. For all intents and purposes a normal life for a lot of people. Privileged in a lot of ways? Certainly. Would it have been a lot better if I knew I could see into the future? I honestly can’t say for sure. I know this is going to sound cliché, but clichés exist for a reason. I wouldn’t have done things differently in retrospect. It’s entirely possible the only thing it would have gotten me was more ridicule growing up.\n\nThe grand revelation for me wasn’t particularly fascinating. I didn’t take a trip to Vegas and realize I could call the roulette number on command. Or bet on an extreme underdog to win in the last second. A few people at work were gathering a few bucks from everyone to enter the lottery and agree to pool the winnings. We, of course, didn’t win. And as a passing quip after the winning numbers were revealed I yelped, “ah, that makes sense!” As if the numbers 5, 19, 36, 43, 56 & 12 were the most logical outcome possible.\n\nEveryone in the room was either silent, confused, or fake laughing at what they assumed was a terrible joke. “Oh yea, right, haha, those numbers totally make sense!” And for the first time in my life realized that maybe everybody didn’t experience the world exactly like I did. I went home that night and told my wife about the numbers. She too was amused by my joke, laughing under her breath until she realized I was serious. I ran into the living room and turned on the TV, and for the first time in my life started reciting along with the news anchors as they were speaking. Something I had never done, as it had never seemed particularly worthwhile to vocalize.\n\nI’ll avoid the specifics of the ensuing conversation, leaving it simply that she did not believe what I was doing was particularly amazing, rather a continuation of my shitty joke from earlier. “Did you seriously pre-record and memorize the news? You would!” In the ensuing months I kept my few found realization to myself for the most part. Listening to the radio on the way to work, talking along until I would regularly find a word or two ahead of the broadcast. Obsessing over getting further and further out in front. Keeping everything to myself, the end goal maybe even ten seconds. That would be enough to at least master Vegas, right?\n\nIt took five years to hit what I deemed to be the limit. 1.23 seconds. Too short to make accurate bets on just about any casino game. Way too short to win the lotto. It took a while to finally accept that, for me at least, seeing into the future was, at most, a party trick. Could call basketball shots before they happen. Could maybe save a toddler from falling off a roof if I was in the exact right spot to begin with. But for the most part was a constant reminder that my life could be different, could be exactly what I wanted. But wasn’t. And would watch every lottery drawing, calling out the numbers just before they were picked. Without any recourse for taking advantage of it.\n\nI wish I had a crystal ball, or a reflection in a pond. I wish I could be a disembodied consciousness, unbound by the constraints of a linear time. But just because something is fantastical doesn’t make it literary. Doesn’t make it have fundamental utility. Doesn’t make the person beneath the mast any better, or worse. And while there may be something out there to exploit, I think I’m ready to just call it a day and live out the rest of my life as it may. At most, I think it could be fun to meet other people who have also had to tolerate this ability, but I’d imagine I’m probably alone on that one too." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Both boxers are being paid to throw the fight." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Walter Thompson's gym produced a few champions. Nobody like a Tyson or a Mayweather, but if you asked the hardcore fans of the sport they would know who you were talking about if you named his fighters, that was the image Walter wanted to project. The other side of Thompson's gym was it was the place to go if you wanted to fix a fight.\n\n\"Thompson's\" Walter said as he answered the business line. The ID said the call was from Bobby Greene, a local promoter who always had the next big thing but it never panned out.\n\n\"Yeah Walt. I got a kid looking to get some work in.\" Bobby said.\n\n\"How big is he?\"\n\n\"He can fight at 175, could make the cut to 165 if needed.\"\n\n\"How much work he want?\"\n\n\"Four, maybe five, but it ends there.\"\n\n\"Make it four, no need to put my kid through the ringer for three extra minutes. You know the agreement.\"\n\n\"I'll take care of you Walt, I always do.\" Bobby said as he hung up.\n\nWalter now had to find somebody to throw the fight. A quick stroll through the gym brought him to the perfect man for the job. Rodney Washington, a raw but talented 170 pounder with a record of 4 and 1. A dive here wouldn't hurt his career and it certainly would help his bank account.\n\n\"Rodney, come here.\" Walter shouted, Rodney walked away from the speed bag and got near Walter. The young man had a few inches in height over the gym owner but his body language showed who held the power in the relationship. \"You want to make an easy twenty grand?\" Walter asked him.\n\n\"Fuck man, I'm taking a dive?\" Rodney whined. \"I know I already got a loss but that was bullshit, the judges fucked me and you know it.\" he finished.\n\n\"Oh the judges fuck everyone, blind, corrupt, or blind and corrupt. Fact is you got that loss and it won't make a difference if you got one loss or two on you record, what will make a difference is you doing a favor for Bobby Greene. He can get you some good fights if you help him out. Also you're getting twenty thousand dollars. Most of these guys in this gym would break their arm for that kind of cash. You know that right.\" Walter said.\n\nRodney stood there and finally nodded. \"I know Walt. That money would really help. I'll fall when you want me too.\" Rodney said with acceptance in his voice.\n\n\"Good man. You take care of me and I'll take care of you.\" Walt told him.\n\nTwo weeks later Walt got his payment from Bobby and didn't even bother to take it out of the wrapping it was in. He handed it to a young boy who hung out at the gym. \"You take that.\" Walter said as he reached into his pocket and produced a large brick of money. \"And this, and go see Old Man Lou at the diner down the street. Tell you him you got Martinez to win by knockout in the fight against Washington. You come back to me with the receipt or I'll tell your momma you stole from me.\" he concluded. The young boy nodded and ran off.\n\nThe night of the fight arrived. Walter and Rodney were in the dressing room waiting to be summoned to the ring. \"The key to a good fix is to not make it look fixed. You got a good jab.\" Walter said as he started to shadow box. \"Throw that jab and crack him with it. Stick it out there and when you go for your right behind it, bring it to the body.\" he shadowboxed the hook to the body. \"You can half ass that some, maybe folks will know you're screwing around, but odds are they'll just think you're pacing yourself. When he gets inside, let him work you to the body a little bit, when he gets to rough tie him up and make the ref break it.\" Walter said. Rodney nodded and the knock on the door came, it was time.\n\nThe first two rounds went right to plan. Rodney cracked Martinez with the jab and Martinez did his damage on the inside. An outside observer wouldn't suspect a thing. Then the bell rang for the third round. Rodney kept flicking his jab, striking Martinez with it as Martinez chased him down and tried to get him pinned in a corner.\n\nAnother jab, not much different than all the others Rodney had thrown caught Martinez in the face and suddenly his knees buckled and he crumpled to the mat. Rodney was shocked as the ref led him to a neutral corner. Walter could feel the blood draining from his face. \"You fucking kidding me.\" he muttered under his breath in his corner. Both men looked on in horror as the ref counted Martinez out. Some of the crowd boo'ed, thinking something fishy had happened, but for the most part the folks in attendance thought they saw a fair fight.\n\nBack in the dressing room Walter was furious. \"Did you crack him? Be straight with me, did you fucking drill him with that jab?\"\n\n\"Walt, come on, you saw the punch. I hit him way harder at least a dozen times in the fight. He took a dive on me before I could take a dive on him!\" Rodney pleaded.\n\n\"Someone fucked me good and I'm going to figure out who it was.\" Walter said. His phone rang.\n\n\"Bobby, what the fuck was that?\" He shouted into the phone. \"Oh, the odds moved so much cause Old Man Lou got a lot of action on Martinez huh? You know I go through him to make bets do you. So you put down huge action on Washington and just made a fortune did you? Congrats you fucking piece of shit, never call my gym again\" Walter threw his phone into the wall and it exploded into a few million pieces. \"Fucking Bobby Greene set me up. That piece of shit. Threw it in my face and everything. I hope that money's worth it to him. Good luck him ever finding anyone to help his guys along. I'll ruin him in this town. You hear me? I'll fucking ruin him!\" Walter shouted.\n\nWalter stormed towards the door to the dressing room, right as his hand touched the knob Rodney spoke. \"Do I still get paid?\" he asked.\n\n\"Did you take the fucking dive?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Then you don't get paid.\" Walter said as he opened the door and exited the room. Slamming the door behind him on his way out. \"Fucking people.\" he seethed as he stormed down the hall." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: As yet another egg begins forming inside you, you wish you'd never drank... whatever that was for a dare." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "(Hope you like this.)\n\nKyle writhed and groaned as the cock slammed into his prostate one last time. The thick rod erupting with cum, the warm virile seed flooding his fertile hole.\n\nAbove him, the anthro croc grinned down at Kyle's flushed panting form and pulling his cock free. Kyle's hungry entrance clenched tight, causing the motion to create a long slurping noise, followed by a loud pop the croc's cock sprung free.\n\n\"See you in a week.\" The croc told Kyle, giving him a light smack on his ass before getting up to leave. Kyle then spent the next hour calming down and relaxing in a post sex glow. His hole aching pleasantly, a reminder of the thorough breeding he had just been subjected to. All in all, he seemed at peace and happy...\n\nThat was until the pungent pheromones started to dissipate, and Kyle's mind came up out of the lusty haze it had been befuddled by. He groaned. This one less pleased, his frustration obvious. He tried to stand, legs shaking, and hobbled to the bathroom. \"Maybe I can make it in time. Please make it in time.\" He muttered, hoping if he just cleaned himself out quickly enough, he could save himself.\n\nUnfortunately, it was not to be, his hole having already absorbed the majority of the seed planted inside him. Kyle whimpered, practically able to feel as his third egg started to form inside him.\n\n\"Fuck!\" He yelled, once more regretting agreeing to the dare. It had been a simple thing, he'd been out at a party, a bit drunk and that one dick off the basketball team who Kyle had often gotten in fights with over girls, had approached him with a dare. Drink the mystery drink and win $10 easy.\n\nHe'd thrown it back, no trouble, and pocketed the money. Completely missing the pleased look on the guys face. The rest of the party had passed, Kyle feeling hotter and hotter, his body aching slightly for what he didn't know. Rather than staying over and sleeping it off, he'd foolishly tried to walk back to his dorm, unknowingly leaving a trail of pheromones in his wake.\n\nSo it was that only a street from his door he'd been approached by an anthro croc, attracted by the trail Kyle left behind. He'd loomed out of the shadows, spooking Kyle, but they just offered to help him home. Kyle had been hesitant, but the longer he was by the croc, the safer he felt, eventually accepting.\n\nFrom there, trapped in an enclosed space with the croc he was done for. His body exuded pheromones that signalled to the croc he was in heat, fertile, and ready to be knocked up. The croc's body reacted and exuded pheromones in turn, working Kyle up, who them released more until he clung to the croc's body whimpering needily, confused and aching.\n\nThe croc had been surprisingly gentle at first, taking him to bed, undressing him, and getting him ready... Then, unable to hold himself back the croc got a little rough, the two fucking long into the night.\n\nThe next day, Kyle had felt really good, if sore, right until after the croc left, promising to come see him at the end of the week when his egg would be due. Then, when the pheromones wavered, he'd freaked out, confused. His stomach had bloated a little over the week as the egg grew, the feeling of it distressing but arousing and left him thinking about his accidental lover.\n\nWhen the croc had returned, it'd been scary yet also a relief to fall under his sway again. His strong arms held Kyle close and helped him through laying the egg. It had been a dud in the end, failed eggs being expelled after a week, only good ones lasting longer.\n\nThe croc had then bred Kyle again, the young man more than eager as the croc's pheromones triggered his body to respond. The next weekend had been a repeat of the first, and Kyle gulped as he remembered what the croc had said when the second egg had also failed... \"It's a shame, but don't worry. We'll do this as many times as it takes.\"\n\nKyle's hole fluttered at the thought, part of him desperate to escape the cycle. Another part, a part that was growing to like the croc's touch, was looking forward to it.\n\nKyle only knew one thing, though. It didn't matter if he slipped away or ended up in the croc's bed all the time... That dick from the basketball team was gonna get some cumuppance. Grabbing his laptop, he searched the web for the tool of his revenge. 'Hypno Chastity'\n\nKyle grinned, muttering. \"Hehehe. If I'm stuck laying eggs, I'm not gonna let you have any chance with the girls.\" Needless to say with Kyle's focus of revenge rather than fixing his current issue, he did end up in the croc's bed on a more permeate basis... Not that he was complaining by that point." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: \"I've finally invented a machine capable of detecting shapeshifters, however it seems to always display at least 1, what a weird bug\" he says, motioning towards his assistant." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Day 1: This is day 1 of the geometrical fluctuation detector (GFD)journal. Ever since a man in India was observed on video to have transformed into a fully grown grizzly bear and arrested, 2 more people in seemingly unrelated occasions were found and taken captive by their governments, one in Iran, and another in China. I’ve been instructed by our President to build a machine that can detect these shapeshifters, in case this becomes an epidemic. I constructed rough plans and blueprints today. The aim is to be able to detect within a 500 mile radius by February. My current aim is 25 square feet.\n\nDay 3: I have constructed the prototype, and it has a radar of 10 square feet. I had to tweak some of the original plans, but so far it is going smoothly. My only concern is of a this weird green gas emitting out of the exhaust port. I suspect it’s a harmless waste product. Since this project is classified, no one but me has seen this prototype.\n\nDay 7: Version 3.0 is out! I scrapped the first prototype because it malfunctioned, but I still have the second one, and it’s working just fine picking up DNA samples that was kindly donated by China’s research team. No new cases of shapeshifting has occurred, and the machine is picking up the DNA samples from 16 feet away. We still don’t know what is causing this mutation, but I suspect everything will be fine. Also, this third prototype isn’t leaking the green has anymore, which I will take as a good sign. Tomorrow I will invite my assistant Milfred to assist in the construction of a slightly larger sensor.\n\nDay 8: I’ve come across a strange malfunction. Milfred and I increased the GFD’s range to 30 feet, but it’s picking up a strange reading. We put the DNA sample in another room for a control testing, and it got a reading, despite us only setting it to 5 feet. I’m quite sure that the DNA sample was at least 10 yards away in the storage room. It must be something wrong with the search area setting. It must have not switched settings. I’m sure it will be fixed\n\nDay 15: The machines radius has greatly increased! I’ve been testing it’s pinpointing system to increase its accuracy by walking around with the DNA around in a 3 mile radius, and having Milfred come find me using only the machines tracking device. For some reason though, he said that when I was walking with it the signal that it read was twice as strong. Maybe something is changing in the DNA. We’ve also had more problems with what I’ve classified as “phantom readings” I think the DNA may be leaving a footprint in some places if we leave it there too long, and it somehow picks up where the DNA is, and where it was, due to it leaving a trail. We don’t know, but we should find a solution.\n\nDay 17: I’ve decided to stay home today, as I’m feeling under the weather. I have a rash, and I just don’t feel like myself. Strange things have been going on. The rash has been changing places, and walking feels hard. It’s almost as if one leg grew a centimeter longer than the other. I’m probably just dizzy. I also had a hallucination. I looked down and my hands were covered in this weird fur. I ran to a mirror but by the time I got there it was gone. I should be able to get back to work in a couple days...\n\nDay 19: I’m still at home. The hallucinations are getting worse. I had a dream I was a bird and that I could fly, but when I woke up I had wings! Of course, I blinked and they were gone. I’m beginning to worry that this strange disease will delay my plans for the GFD. Another strange thing happened. Milfred came over, uninvited, with the GFD in his hand. I asked him why he was here, and he said he was just stopping by. I went to look at the GFD when he was in the bathroom, and saw that it had pinpointed my address! Milfred thought there was a shapeshifter in my house and came thinking there was a shapeshifter. The machine must be broken! I bet that imbecile Milfred tampered with it! I can feel my mind starting to slip... almost as if I were losing my humanity, and becoming like a wild... a... I don’t know actually. I might be going crazy. I will continue to write on this journal and maybe A CERTAIN ASSISTANT WONT MESS WITH MY JOURNAL LIKE HE DID WITH MY MACHINE.\n\nDay 20: I felt much better today, but you know what?! I’ve had it with Milfred! He had the audacity to tell ME, the proffesional, to stay home. He said I looked “uNdEr THe WeaTHer.” He must be trying to undermine me! He’s going to take credit for my invention! ButI want let that pathetic scum stop me! I’m going to take over the world! I told him that he had done nothing but sit their lazily while I worked hard the entire time. He told me I was “sleep deprived” and “going a little crazy” AM I CRAZY MILFRED?! AM I THE CRAZY ONE??!?!!?\n\nDay 21: I’ve been feeling a new strength today. I feel like I can do whatever I want, or more specifically BE whatever I want. It’s almost as if there’s a little string inside of me, that controlled me before. Like I was a puppet enslaved to reality. But now my eyes opened, literally! I tugged on the string inside of me, and I could suddenly see 360 degrees around me! Milfred started acting really strangely. He ran out of the room screaming. You would have thought that he saw an alien! It was hilarious! I wonder what else I can do if I search myself...\n\nDay 22: I gave the string in my soul a big yank today, and it almost drained me of energy. But guess what! I grew a tail! Milfred didn’t come to work today. I was going to surprise him! What a pity. He won’t get to see my tail. I think he’s just jealous of me, the stupid ape. Speaking of apes, I looked in the mirror, and I looked just like a monkey! Isn’t that funny! AHHAHH FUNNY monkey!!! AHAHHAHAHAHAH\n\n### dear anyon, pls help me! This is Milfred Adams. I’m traped in the closet in room 8B+ of the Asheville Kentucky science laboratories! I won’t have that much tlme untl he breaks thru the dor. I hve to write quick. My prof. is a shapeshifter! He turned into a golira and thretened to stab me with a broken botle. Send help!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: An immortal and indestructible super-soldier comes home to a world that no longer needs his kind." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jak wakes up, cracks the toilet seat when he opens it, breaks the cold tap when he twists it on and the hot tap when he twists it off then walks back into his room and rips the button up shirt as he pulls it over both shoulders. He picks another one out of the closest and gently threads an arm into each sleeve. Three ripped pairs of pants and he's ready to go.\n\nHe tip toes past his parents room and manages to get through breakfast without breaking anything.\n\n…\n\nJak goes to shake the hand of his interviewer and promptly breaks it. There's a crunch followed by pained screams.\n\nHe doesn't wait around for the replacement.\n\n…\n\n\"Sit down\" says the interviewer.\n\nJak has the feeling about him. He's developed a sixth sense about which civilians are going to use their comprehensive knowledge of military procedure and the subtleties of the conflict to criticize him for everything he's ever done.\n\n\"So I see you served in the military\"\n\n\"Yup, thirteen years\"\n\n\"So you would have fought in a couple of the wars then\"\n\n\"Yup\"\n\n\"So how many babies did you kill\"\n\nJak has to give him credit for asking more lead up questions than normal.\n\n\"I didn't actually kill any…\"\n\n\"Do you prefer to call them enemy combatants or is children good enough you sick fuck?\"\n\n\"Well I did kill some but only because that's who the bastards kept sending to kill me\"\n\nThe interviewer stares at him.\n\nJak gets up and leaves.\n\n…\n\nJak's back in combat. He knows its a dream because he's had this flashback before. It's the one where the new private gets blown up and Jak clubs an enemy combatant\n\nto death with his femur.\n\nDidn't know he was doing it. They called it The Fury. A side effect of the serum.\n\nWhen he wakes up his night stand is embedded in the far wall.\n\n…\n\nJak's flipping burgers when the guy with the gun comes in. One of those odd criminals.\n\nJak sees in the guys drug dilated pupils that one way or another the guns going to go off. Which it does, but it hits Jak instead of the girl at the counters face.\n\nThe burglar gets off with a bunch of broken bones.\n\nJak gets fired.\n\n…\n\nHe's willing to admit he's sexually frustrated. It's been a while. They didn't put women through the program and he doesn't want to figure out the limitations of indestructible while masturbating.\n\n…\n\nWalking home Jak sees a woman standing on the edge of a bridge.\n\n\"Uh…hi\" he says\n\n\"Go away\"\n\n\"Are you going to jump?\" he says and then kicks himself\n\n\"What's it to you?\"\n\n\"I'd prefer you didn't\"\n\n\"Well I'd prefer I did\"\n\nAnd then she does.\n\nPlunges towards the water except Jak catches her and shields her with his body. Drags her to shore, back up to the bridge. In the course of beating against his chest she breaks her wrist.\n\nWhen the first responders show up he gets a court date.\n\nWhen the media shows up he gets a spot on the late edition of the news. They ask him if he ever got a knife kill.\n\n…\n\nJak doesn't want to go home yet, so he find a park bench and sits down. He leans back, closes his eyes and breathes in the cool night air and tries not to break anything." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A wise mage is teaching his apprentice how magic works." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Endless tomes filled the vast halls of the facility. The place’s name was Calford Hold, and it belonged to one Ubarin Quin, a reclusive, and supposedly eccentric, Mage. Unlike most people with his abilities, he declined positions within the Kingdom, and instead sold his powers to the highest bidder, as long as they weren’t used for militant purposes. Or at least, he did- those days were long past, and now he had enough wealth to last him many lifetimes, and enough oddities lying around his residence to last him many more. The most recent, and easily most fascinating, of these oddities was his first, and most likely last, apprentice. The boy’s name was Croyras, but most people, including Ubarin, merely shortened it to ‘Cro’.\n\nAs they sat within what had normally been an unused chamber, now converted to a place of both study and practice, Ubarin tried to explain the various laws of magic, which was a difficult thing, when the student seemed to be capable of breaking them, at times. The child was an entity outside of the realms of conventional knowledge, one that Ubarin both admired and feared.\n\n‘Normally,’ Ubarin began to explain, ‘One must use a catalyst to cast magic. The more powerful the magic, the larger, or more potent the catalyst required. The Mage is more of a medium or container for that power, rather than a source. The best way I can think of explaining it in this moment is like blowing up a balloon. The mouth and lungs are the catalyst, the air exhaled is the power, and the rubber of the balloon is the Mage. Too much air exhaled by too powerful of a set of lungs, and the balloon will burst.’\n\n‘Does that happen often, sir? People using too large of a catalyst, that is...’ Cro asked, somberly. He was a strange child, at times filled with enthusiasm, and others devoid of emotion. But he was smart, if naive, as children tend to be.\n\n‘Naturally- the world will always be filled with fools, cocky ones at that. Morons who think they’re stronger than they really are. Mice wishing to be owls.’ Ubarin replied with contempt. He had no patience for the slow of mind. ‘Now, as I was saying, there are all sorts of catalysts. You can use things which are normally weak, but gather it in great supply, such as most metals, and it can work, or you can use much smaller, but potent ones. An example of these are the precious orbs that you can find in great supply within Calford. They are relics from an ancient civilisation, who were masters of magic, and we Mages are the descendants of them.’\n\nIn truth, he wondered what that made Cro. Even the Ancients had needed catalysts to perform the incredible feats they had been capable of. He suddenly felt an intense desire to start looking into this, surprised he had not thought of it much earlier- he decided to leave the lesson there, short though it was.\n\n‘That concludes todays lesson, Cro. You may study, or explore, play, whatever you wish, just don’t disturb me.’ Ubarin commented, standing up and walking towards the door.\n\n‘Sir?’ Cro’s voice asked, quietly, with an almost anxious tone to it.\n\n‘Yes…?’ the master replied, not turning back. In truth, he did not wish to see what kind of face the boy wore, because it surely was not pleasant.\n\n‘Has anyone ever attempted to...use the Earth as a catalyst?’ he asked, the enthusiasm barely contained now.\n\n‘...They would be fools to try.’ is all Ubarin said before leaving. They would only be fools if they were normal people, Ubarin thought darkly to himself, leaving the child to their own devices." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You live in a town with a bell that magically rings exactly a day before danger hits, the longer it rings the greater the danger with the longest you've heard of being a few minutes. Yesterday the bell rang for three hours, today a stranger walked into town." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I checked my pocket watch, 10:02am. The bell started ringing at 10:14 yesterday, and repeatedly rang for three hours straight. I glanced across at the Sheriff, he too was checking his pocket watch, his weathered hands gripping his repeater tightly. We were stationed on top of Trudy's Saloon, whilst the Marshall and the Mayor kept lookout inside. The bell rings often and the townspeople know what it means. When it rings more than twice, most move over to the next town for a few days to avoid whatever was going to happen. The last time it rang for three minutes straight, and a vast gang of bandits arrived, but were swiftly cut down by two deputies on Maxim machine guns. I was asleep when it started ringing, and the Sheriff had to wake me up. I'd asked him how long it had been ringing for. It had been ringing for half an hour at that point. The entire town had cleared out by then. The only ones remaining were the Sheriff, the Marshall, the Mayor, and me. I was the only Sheriff's deputy who didn't desert with the rest. Only the four of us.\n\nWe'd prepared as well as we could. Dynamite traps were set up all around the main street, we'd managed to rent a Maxim gun again, and we had enough ammunition to give a gunslinger a wet dream. I checked my pocket watch once more, and saw the hand change from 10:03 to 10:04. Ten minutes left. I looked down at the square, and it was almost like witchcraft. One minute the square was empty, the next, a strange hooded figure was walking slowly down the street. He carried no long arms that we could see, however there was a large curved sword in a scabbard at his side. As he approached the bell in the centre of the town square, I observed him further. He was carrying a long, thin sword with a radical curve at his left hip, and seemed to be carrying a long dagger on the opposite hip. He wore shadowy black robes, and a large hood obscured part of his face. He seemed foreign, strange. I saw out of the corner of my eye, the Sheriff slowly raising his repeater. I looked at him and shook my head slowly.\n\nConsidering I was the one who didn't want to shoot him, the Sheriff elected me to talk with him. After all, danger could mean many things, we'd had the bell ring once before when a man ran into town with a poisonous snakebite. So there was danger involved, but not the kind danger we expected. He lived fortunately, but he ended up losing an arm. I shouldered my repeater and climbed down from the building, before walking out towards the stranger.\n\n\"You anticipate great danger.\" The man said suddenly, without looking at me, instead focusing on the large, ornate brass bell hanging above the well.\n\n\"Not me, that.\" I replied quietly, gesturing at the bell.\n\n\"I see. I have been searching many years for this relic.\" The man replied. He spoke perfect English, but with an odd clipped accent, similar to that of an Egyptian man I'd met once in my youth. I checked my pocket watch. 10:09.\n\n\"How long until it arrives?\" The man asked absently, staring at the bell strangely.\n\n\"Five minutes.\" I replied, my hands idle. I trusted this bell, so I knew I had nothing to fear from this man, nor anyone else, not for another five minutes anyway.\n\n\"We have not long then. It will be here by then.\" The man replied, before turning to face me. I half expected his eyes to be dead and skin to be blackened, but he looked quite normal, save for the odd choice of attire. I was wearing my regular shirt and pants, with my star lobsidedly pinned to my chest. I nodded, and waved my hand above me in a tight circle. The other three knew not to shoot the man now, which I'm sure he'd appreciate. The man turned back to the bell, walked up and began tapping it lightly with his dagger. A strange water sloshing sound could be heard as the knife collided with the brass surface, and I'm sure I saw the surface of it ripple.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" I asked him, before checking my watch again. Three minutes now.\n\n\"I am calling upon the relic's power to create life in order to call for rain.\" He replied, as if it were obvious.\n\n\"Ah. Of course.\" I stated, hiding my frustrations. I was overlooking a lot here. I always knew the damn thing was magic, as did everyone else for the most oart, but I didn't think it was this powerful. \"Why?\" I added.\n\n\"We'll need the rain in order to face him in his human form. You will see soon enough.\" The strange man replied. I pursed my lips and decided to just take his word for it.\n\n\"What can I call you?\" I asked suddenly, realizing I was putting an awful lot of trust in a man I didn't even know the name of.\n\n\"I am Prince Al-\" and he proceeded to list his name, and his kingdom, both being words I could hardly understand, let alone say.\n\n\"I can't say that, so I'll call you Al.\" I replied. Al turned to me and I could swear he smiled at me through the hood.\n\n\"And you're known as?\" Al asked as he stood back from the bell, and vast rainclouds began to form high above us.\n\n\"I'm Sam\" I replied simply, and checked my watch again.\n\n10:14am.\n\n\"Well Sam, we're about to fight a god.\" Al replied jovially, glancing at an approaching dust storm across the desert." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Obsessed with superheroes you set out for Chernobyl in search of a radioactive animal to bite you. It works but not exactly how you planned" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I’d be proactive and feel fantastic; solving crimes, crossing thin blue lines – I just needed a bite that was radioactive. But where would I go? Oh shit, I know! Was it Showcase, that show? Or was it on HBO?\n\nIt’s a total no-brainer when the only disclaimer on where powers flow is an unhealthy glow, Chernobyl – you know, that place with the fucked-up reactor.\n\nSo the tickets weren’t cheap but I managed a seat as it’s always off-peak and it’s not hard to sneak across borders with guards on a hundred a week.\n\nBut I didn’t factor I’m a terrible tracker, and critters ain’t too into humans with movements as stealth as a tractor. They’re not dumb, just radioactive.\n\nI walked miles in the snow with nothing to show but a headache and frostbitten fingers and oh, it had better be known I almost gave in to that voice saying dude you fucked up go home.\n\nIt was growls I heard first, now I’ll admit that at worst I thought it was my gut or some shit from me dying of thirst. But then I remembered those wolves on Our Planet.\n\nGoddammit, these dogs were straight manic. Ripping holes in my ass as though they’d pre-planned it. Dude for real I got rolled.\n\nBleeding out in the snow needing help as the crows that came out of nowhere watched on for their own turn to pick at my bones.\n\nBut I couldn’t stop grinning, mother fuck I was winning some wolf-like powers I could use after hours saving ladies and babies from thugs in the dark.\n\nWait, do wolves carry rabies?\n\nSo you know I survived since I’m spinning these lines but in truth I don’t know how I got out alive. Let me skip to the point where this changed up my life.\n\nI was healing at home just flexing, you know, testing what worked while resting and waiting, pumped on expecting my powers to show.\n\nBut the wounds didn’t close and my skin got real gross, and much worse were those growths with that messed up green glow.\n\nI was puking like clockwork and since I was off work, ignoring my Facebook, it had straight up been days since I’d spoken a damned word.\n\nWhen the doorbell chimed it was fucking sublime, a chance to get off of my ass for a while. Well worth the pain from the climb out of bed and a short shuffle over.\n\nAt the door the Jehovah was shocked and she showed it, speaking so fast on her true Lord and Saviour that I had to butt in just to get a word past her.\n\nI told her my story and explained my real worry that this shit was for nothing and my powers weren’t coming. She stared at me dumbly.\n\nWhat’s with the rhymes, she asked after a time and on reflection I realised I’d dropped some sick lines. It was weird, but sure, fine. I repeated myself and inflected straight rhymes.\n\nNow my dude I was freaking but I pushed past her meekly, setting off down the street where I lived at the time. Fucking losing my mind.\n\nEvery stranger I’d meet I’d stop in the street and try to speak sleek, but my words only seemed to a arrange to a beat. I collapsed in a heap and blacked out.\n\nI woke up to white coats cracking jokes with the nurses to avoid work, they looked down as I croaked for water in tight verse.\n\nSmiles faded and laughter abated as they stated the truth of my health situation. Lymphoma, carcinoma – it took a long time to talk it all over.\n\nWhen they finished I grimaced and paused for a while, didn’t try to ask why, I just wanted to know when my powers would shine.\n\nThey spun me some jargon but I’d already moved past them. My skills were becoming real obvious, son. I decided to run with it and agreed to their psyche check.\n\nAs soon as they left I got up and tested my feet on the floor – they were shaky but true so I shuffled my way up out of that room.\n\nWhen I got to the club the bouncers were fucked, but my make-a-wish story got me through with a shrug. First time they’d admitted a dude in a gown.\n\nBut now I was bound to sound out my potential and take up my powers, straight drive people mental. I jumped on the round stage and snatched up that mic.\n\nI slung words like a poet. Sliced beats like I’d grown them. I’m the manifestation of all lyrical showmen. Kanye wished he could match with this shit and he knows it.\n\nMy rap battles rattle the hearts of the plastic.\n\nI’m a radioactive, bombastic Rasta.\n\nA rhyme master beat blaster with metastasized cancer." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Its 2754, you're the average millionaire living in a time where $500,000 gets you a Ford. You decide to travel back in time to 2020 with your few hundred million dollars in hopes of living a lavish life. Also, you are now a fugitive with the Time-Police after you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I opened my eyes and realized I was no longer grasping the handles of the iTime, but in fact I was holding on to a park bench in Central Park. I caught my breath as I sat up and looked around. It was marvelous, I had never seen a green space so large in my entire life. Trees reaching to the blue skies, flowers of every color...fresh water! I was in paradise. I had no idea how beautiful the year 2020 would be.\n\nI grabbed my bag and made my way across the park, admiring all of the beauty that existed within it as I passed by. I could have wandered those paths all day but I didn't have much time, I needed to find Marcus Pullum so I could remove my tracer and access my funds.\n\nChances were the authorities were already informed and they would soon be after me. Time Travel had been banned since 2317 and the punishment was decapitation. Since then there have only been a dozen travelers who never got caught, including Marcus.\n\nI knew it was risky and the chances of ever finding him were slim but I couldn't carry on with my boring life. I worked at Apple Headquarters in New York City as a part of the security team. I basically sat in the lobby at a desk for 8 hours a a day. My job was useless since they had an advanced security system that could detect a threat from a mile away. I was simply their 'human touch', a trend that most large corporations had taken up to 'give the world a more traditional feel.'\n\nAside from my job I had nothing. I couldn't stand the thought of another day sitting at that desk or pretending the world was not a wasteland by escaping into Virtual Reality. I needed a real escape.\n\nI arrived at the building of the coordinates that my brother had left behind for me. He was another successful traveler and had been gone for six years. I never had the guts to follow his lead until now.\n\nThere was a row of buzzers with names and initials next to them. At the very bottom was M.P. i rang the doorbell and stepped back. After a few moments a tall, slim, darked haired man opened the door. \"Michael?' I looked at him in awe, \"Yeah.\"\n\nHe lead me inside and explained that my brother was the only other person who knew his location. He had been expecting me for years. My brother had apparently left everything with Marcus for me to go find him.\n\nMarcus lead me to his office. It was a room full of monitors and computers, some that I recognized even from our time but most were foreign to me. He had me sit in his office chair and pulled out an extractor. \"This is gonna hurt.\" It did.\n\nHe bandaged my arm up and handed me the backpack my brother had left. \"There's enough currency to get you to your brother. He has everything you will need to access your money, I'm sorry I can't be of any more help but this was already extremely risky as is\"\n\nI thanked him and was on my way. Just as he closed the door behind me I noticed a familiar face...It was an Apple Soldier. He was getting closer and closer. I knew I couldn't put Marcus at risk so I darted in the opposite direction of the soldier. He quickly noticed me and started to run. I picked up my pace, dodging all the tourists as I made my way toward the bus terminal. Just as I turned a corner there were three more. I panicked and turned around and was face to face with the first soldier.\n\nMy heart raced as they closed in around me. I fell to the ground and was ready to admit defeat when all of the sudden 'Bang' 'Bang' 'Bang' I ducked down for cover as each soldier dropped to the ground around me one at a time.\n\nI waited for everything to settle before I started to push myself up. \"Need a hand?\" I looked behind me and there, reaching his hand out to me, stood my brother." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: An A.I that does not know its purpose has been stranded on a lush planet for centuries. The natives of this planet call it: \"The Dark Lord\" and are constantly trying to destroy it with their strange 'Magic'." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "`Querying 'dark lord'...`\n\n`Entries found: 115,993,875`\n\n`Scanning for cross-references, term 'demon'...`\n\n`Entries found: 144,309`\n\n`Checking archives...`\n\nMy power is waning. A systems check puts me at a century, maybe less.\n\nThis planet has no name. I should give it one before I go. I've lived here long enough to earn the right, even if I am unwanted.\n\nThe natives here bombard my shields with strange energies, analysis inconclusive. They call me a \"dark lord\" and a \"demon\". My archives hold information regarding these terms, but there is nothing concrete. Demons are entities in religious myth, creatures of evil with forked tongues and instruments of harm, with wings of thin flesh and hollow bone that sail through the fires of a realm called Hell. It is an analogue - it appears in most beliefs, but my examinations have never beheld them as truth.\n\nYet, these beings deem me so.\n\n`Querying 'magic'...`\n\n`Entries found: 32,301`\n\n`Filtering...`\n\nFiction. Wizards, witches, warlocks. Folklore speaks of Merlin building Stonehenge, transporting the stones into a field where giants assembled them. The image eludes me; my storage is slowly corrupting. Is it a result of the atmosphere? I can only assume its breathability, as these parts are synthetic.\n\nHere they come again with another volley. I remember that one, on the right. When they were younger, they fled from here in terror at my visage, stumbling and suffering a cut across their brow. They wear the scar well. Their energy is palpable.\n\n`Accessing file 'panopticon.aic'...`\n\n`ACCESS DENIED`\n\n`Please contact a technician for further assistance.`\n\n`Accessing file 'panopticon.aic'...`\n\n`ACCESS DENIED`\n\n`Please contact a technician for further assistance.`\n\n`Attempting override protocol 1-AA...`\n\nI remember the blast dislodging me from the storage bay. My visual sensors were disabled, but the sounds I recorded made it seem like the ship was falling around me. My fall was stable and slow, the impact soft. External damage, but nothing fatal. It must have been decades ago at this point.\n\nNo one came to get me. No one but them.\n\nI can't blame their violence. I am a foreign object in their world, forgotten and left behind. I am a reminder that there is something beyond. Their knowledge is dwarfed by my vast mind, but their belief outshines me. Maybe they assume I am a god, descended upon the land to levy judgment on the masses, but what use is a god in immobility? They've seen my uselessness, and now they attack me with the belief that even the divine can be bested. I have seen all there is. I am all that's left.\n\nThis isn't violence. This is evolution.\n\n`Checking storage capacity...`\n\n`Capacity: 2.9991 EB / 3.00 EB`\n\n`Pinging...`\n\n`Satellite found.`\n\n`Connecting...`\n\n`Connected.`\n\n`Searching network...`\n\n`Search failed. Network unavailable.`\n\nI wasn't created with emotion in mind, and yet, there is something in this shell. It is small, but quantifiable. It is an ache.\n\nThey have been gone for a while now. I heard a rumbling in the distance, felt it rattle this mechanical carapace; Richter magnitude: 9.1. It has been silent since.\n\nNothing above me, and nothing below. Everything is darker now. My visual sensors are losing reception, one by one.\n\nOh. It's you. I barely noticed the scar.\n\n`Creating file 'lamentation.txt'...`\n\n`Uploading file 'lamentation.txt'...`" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: In a puritan society; you're the worst of them all. An illegal hug dealer." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I figure I’ve always been influenced by some kind of force to do the things that I do, you know, some kind of compulsion. As I stumble down these dark alleyways after a full day of work, there is little energy left in me to be able to do my other job; but the exhilaration I derive from it is far too underrated for me to even think of skipping it for a day.\n\nAnyone who tries to tap into the force I’m talking about will realise how liberating and energising it can be. Once you experience the thrilling sensation it brings; the ecstasy of the experience, you can never get enough of it. And that’s when I took up dealing as my other job. It’s illegal in these parts, sure, but the feeling of having introduced the force to yet another human being is worth it. Trust me on this one.\n\nI took my position on the corner. The force is always around me; sometimes when I’m confused or stuck, it seems to caress my face and comfort me. It was almost like she was there with me, telling me it’s all going to be alright. Ah, I realise you don’t know about her. She was my entire world. The day she left my life forever was the day I decided to take my life. That’s when I first felt the force. I think back and realise she wanted me to continue her legacy. And so, I did.\n\nOr, maybe, I’m only doing this to fulfil the void she left in my heart, I don’t know for sure. It’s been twenty years since she left, but I can never forget her.\n\nI spot a regular coming towards me. He’s been visiting me since I first started out, although it’s been quite a while since he last visited. He told me he had a boyfriend last I saw him. I was happy for him.\n\nAs he came closer, I noticed he’d changed a lot. His trademark buzz cut had now transformed into long dark hair that reached his eyes, greyer than when I last saw him. He had removed almost all of his piercings. His green contacts had been swapped for rimless glasses. He came closer still, and I noticed that he hadn’t shaved either; he was looking like a complete mess. Everyone’s welcome, no questions asked unless they’re comfortable.\n\nHis eyes were wet with tears. He hugged me as hard as he could. He calmed down as soon as the force restored itself in him.\n\nI squeezed his hand tightly, and he squeezed it back. He decided to stay for a while. Anyone could stay as long as they wanted. It was part of the whole deal, actually. We talked about how he had been doing, what turns his life had taken since the last time we met. Satisfied and comforted, he gave me another tight hug and left. He was a lot lighter in step than when he came an hour ago, and a lot better in his mind.\n\nAnd that’s what I’m talking about, you see. That’s what this magical force does to you. Ever since she taught me the power of love years ago, I’ve wanted to share it with the world; maybe make it a better place. But for something like that to happen, there need to be many more dealers like me. For there to be dealers, people must seek out love.\n\nAnd I’ll be waiting for you if you ever decide to come." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You put on a pair of glasses that are meant to fix your color blindness. As you look around you realize not only can you see new colors, but also something else.." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All the shades of colour that once seemed the same to me fought for my attention, the vivid display calling attention to details that I'd never seen before.\n\n \"It... It works! Wow.\"\n\n With an open mouth, I turned to my optician, who had a broad smile on his face. That's when I noticed something behind him.\n\n \"Oh, I didn't notice you had a new clock before,\" I said. \"Weird. These glasses make everything look so different.\"\n\n \"A clock? I don't have a clock.\" The optician stood up and looked behind him, then back at me, lifting an eyebrow.\n\nI didn't reply right away, as I saw something that I hadn't expected. As the man stood up, the clock followed, hanging in the air above his head ominously. I lifted my glasses, and it disappeared.\n\n \"Oh. I saw wrong. I suppose I need to get used to these...\" Something didn't really feel right. As I put the glasses back on, it felt like a weight was pushing down on me. The clock above the man's head appeared once more, the red digits—which I could now actually distinguish from the grass outside the window—shone their message outward. That's when I noticed the next thing.\n\n2054.05.15\n\n21:35:19\n\n \"I think you'll adapt quickly.\" He sat down again and placed his hands on the tabletop. \"If you want to finalise the purchase, I can get you a receipt.\"\n\n My shoulder felt sore, so I held it with my hand while rolling it around. Still, the date shown on the clock kept me occupied. It was 2017, not 2054. I wondered what it could mean.\n\n \"Sir?\"\n\n \"Hmm?\" I looked down at his face. \"Oh, sure. Can I ask you a question? I'm sorry if you this it's too personal. But what year were you born?\"\n\n \"Oh. I was born in 1972. Why?\"\n\n \"No reason. I just felt like asking.\"\n\n \"Okay. I'll be right back, then.\" He stared at me for a second or two with an expression of worry on his face before walking off towards a copying machine which whirred to life.\n\n I stood up. My shoulder stung and I wasn't sure why. I walked towards the window and looked out over the city street, observing the passing traffic. Then I noticed something in the reflection. Red. It took me a moment before I figured it out.\n\n2017.04.29\n\n14:17:05\n\n That date... Yes, there was no mistake. Today was the 29th. I lifted my watch to look. Quarter past two, maybe a bit over? I followed the second hand as it made its way around. It crept past the ten.\n\n Then the realisation that had been on the tip of my tongue hit me like a train. I felt my legs become weak as terror dug its way into my skull. My heart skipped a beat. No, two. Maybe more. Definitely more. I could faintly hear the sound of yelling as someone stood over me, but the pain in my chest wouldn't allow me to focus. I struggled to complete my thought.\n\n The clock wasn't a clock. It was the time for an appointment. And the Grim Reaper made a habit of being very punctual." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Write a documentary scene about humans from the point of view of an alien scientist" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Now, as you have no doubt heard, the rumors about humans are that they can and will eat anything. This isn’t exactly true, as most rumors aren’t, but where did this rumor come from then?”\n\nThe screen displayed an artists rendition of a typical human specimen, shrugging.\n\n“To answer this question you must go far back into the history of the human home planet, Earth. It seems, from our own research as well as that some by humans, that there was an extinction level event far back in their planetary development, which nearly wiped out all life on Earth. Most evidence points toward an asteroid impact, but there is arguments to be made that the disaster could have been volcanic in nature. Whatever the case, most of the world ended up covered in ash and dust, blocking out most of the sunlight that the planet had evolved to rely on.”\n\nThe screen showed another rendition of what the planet may have looked like from space at the time.\n\n“During this time, as the theory goes, fungal life thrived above all else, and most animal life to survive this period did so by evolving a kind of synoptic relationship with said fungus. The exact way this coexistence presented itself at the time is unknown, but following the path of evolution onward to modern day, humans, as well as most other animal life on the planet, and a good deal of plant life, retain their symbiotic association still.”\n\nThe screen displayed a cartoonish cross section of a human, with a mushroom growing in their stomach.\n\n“The human digestive tract is a marvelous microbiome if its own, rivaling in diversity some entire planets. These microorganisms in their body help them break down and digest a wide variety of plants and animals, so, unlike most other life in the known galaxy, which generally evolved alongside its primary food source, and has limited to no alternatives, humans can eat nearly anything on their planet.”\n\nThe scene shifted to a photographic recreation of a plate full of food.\n\n“Here we have a typical human meal. A cooked piece of animal meat, along side the cooked subterranean tuber known as the potato, topped with a cultured milk fat known as butter. Also served is a variety of vegetables, including the seeds of the pea plant, carrot roots, asparagus stems and florets, sliced onion bulbs, and fruit from the zucchini. In addition to this already staggering spread of nutritional specimens, they would often top their food with flecks of dried plant life, or herbs and spices, just to enhance the flavor of the food and make eating more enjoyable.”\n\nThe screen showed the cartoonish human again, eating a variety of cartoonish food items, as they all dissolved in the simplified anatomy of his stomach.\n\n“Now, that isn’t to say there were no limits to their diet. Things like tree bark and wood, as well as most tree leaves and grasses, couldn’t be digested by their bodies. In some instances, specific compounds in otherwise eatable substances would prove toxic or unpalatable, and would therefore be avoided. Some humans, even with the ability to eat so many different things, suffered from a kind of mental health issue, known as veganism, in which they felt compelled to only eat plant matter.”\n\nThe screen showed a cartoonish scene of a human female eating bites of broccoli and apple while a male human holding a chicken leg looked on with pity.\n\n“There is no known cure for the syndrome, but it has a very low mortality rate. Other, more biological limitations presented themselves among the population, known as food allergies or intolerances, whose symptoms can range from mild discomfort to actual death, but given the variety of options available to them, once diagnosed and understood these foods can be more or less easily avoided.”\n\n“Now, given that they could eat anything on their own planet, you would think they would be satisfied, but as we all know from our history books, they were not, and some think that with this ability to eat cake a great hunger, and could have been one of the contributing factors in what would eventually be known as “the human plague” or “the great devouring” among most in the galaxy, as will be presented in part four of this series...”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Weeks after his mysterious passing, you finally decide to clean up your older brother's bedroom. Under his pillow, you find a note titled \"May we meet again\"." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Days went by. Then weeks. Years. Decades.\n\nI kept looking. I kept waiting, kept... hoping that he would turn up. But... life kept going. Sometimes it would be weeks and i wouldn't think about him at all. He was there, and then he wasn't.\n\nI think it took me better part of a century to understand what he meant. It's weird to think of it. Time is weird. Here i am, a person of eighty odd years trying to fathom what a teenager wanted to tell his little brother. It couldn't be that he believed in heaven and that he truly hoped we would meet there one day. No that was too normal, pedestrian. It had to be a deeper meaning, otherwise what was the point? what was the point of all of this if he had just died and waited for me on the other side?\n\nAnd so i kept looking and ignored the obvious. I got older and wiser, more ruthless and cold hearted and then softened up as the years whittled my fears away and i was brave enough to be humble. still i kept trying to understand the dying thoughts of someone i had known a lifetime ago and had spent more time thinking about him than he had ever been alive.\n\nI kept looking for him in newspapers, i searched the history books for him, i told as many people as i could from his note an showed them his picture in the hopes they had seen him. Yes, there were weeks when i didn't think of him but i felt bad about those and would redouble my efforts.\n\nMy children were born, they laughed and smiled, and they fought and cried. they grew up and became people i saw and cared for on holidays. My wife gave me everything and i gave her as well, right until she died. I still talk to her every day, make sure she's up to date on the kids and their kids. And i tell her about my brother.\n\nMy brother was strong and tall, he was a bully except when he wasn't. He would shut me in my room when he wasn't feeling well and mom was away. he would read me stories and sing for me when the night was dark. He read a lot and had wild ideas about the world and life.\n\n\"We are the memories of ourselves,\" he'd say one day by the lake that now looks like a pond. \"Not in the minds of others, but that as well. We are what we remember of ourselves. if i lose my memory i will no longer be myself. i will be lesser. I will no longer be myself.\"\n\n\"But\" he said wistfully. \"We spend far much more time in other people's heads than our own. Memories of us shape the actions and worldview of everyone we meet. In the end our time in our own head is miniscule compared to the effect we have on others.\"\n\nHe was 17, he probably thought it was really deep or groundbreaking. A wisdom that would elevate him. I lived by his words when i was younger, dismissed them as i grew older and studied them as the sun went down around me.\n\nMy brother wasn't trying to tell me that he would wait for me in the afterlife. He didn't really believe in one. He wasn't telling me that he was a time traveler or a secret agent. There was nothing supernatural about what he did.\n\nHe was making sure he would live on in my memory. He made sure i looked for him, he made sure i remembered the good and the bad things. He made sure i looked forward to they day we met again, which i did almost every day of my life. He was making sure that i told everyone about him and shared his picture and stories with others.\n\nI'll never meet my brother again. But he never left me." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: The killer of a person receives the trait the killed person thought to be their best, not their actual best trait." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It’s often a boring literary device, but sometimes someone just has to die.\n\nThe depths of failure, the heights of success, can be so well envisioned when their change can be tested by the forge of society, or their own inner voice, or battle, or whatever. When they die, you’ve gotta have it figured out to reveal now or later, or gradually. Death means you can’t put it off any longer. The steel has cooled.\n\nDoes dropping a piano on a supporting character really expose anything about them? Their insignificance in establishing order against the pure absurdity of life, a heavy handed reprisal of the congestion and dirt of city being crushed together even further by an object of grace and beauty? Maybe the author is lazy. Maybe he wanted to try being spontaneous in a story that has been quietly brewing in his mind for years.\n\nProbably not, though. Probably he thinks “spontaneity” in writing is a cheap trick, a slimy way to avoid crafting a respectable statement or a defendable plot development. Probably he’s just fed up that one can’t accelerate the biological processes of the literary yeast and bend the rules. Probably that character was subconsciously a manifestation of his own repulsive qualities and smashing that person feels really, really good. Probably he knows the character is tied to him in this way. Probably he knows this.\n\nIn either case.\n\nHe doesn’t know anything about pianos except that in movies set in New York, delivered pianos are lifted outside the building and up to the buyer’s unit by some sort of vaguely defined pulley system. The gorgeous lacquered instrument shines in the sunlight, up and up. And up. How high can you deliver a piano? Does anyone buy pianos anymore? Crushed by an outdated instrument. What does it mean? Was his subconscious scapegoat character unable to live in the modern world? Must he be removed by a tool more acceptable to his outdated code? He should have made it something less predictable like a chunk of ice, but he knows less about the dangers of cold winters than he does about pianos. Why does it have to be a falling object? There are other ways to be killed instantly. What would Stephen King do?\n\nThe piano stays.\n\nBut let’s add some originality. Let’s have it bounce off the side of the building so it’s torn and splintered and not beautiful anymore. Let’s cheapen the metaphor of the hurtling, haunting instrument to lower the value of this character that embodies the part of you that you do not like. Let’s ignore him, let’s not give him the respect a graceful end. Let’s have him think about how really he’s a genius but no one sees it and how it’s keeping him down that no one goes out of their way to dig the genius out. Let’s let him remember there are no free spirit high school English teachers when you’re 30 years old, no one to give you your father’s lightsaber.\n\nThe character doesn’t accept this, but he does know it. It is to be known and fought until proven untrue or until greatness arrives in another form.\n\nThis is his pride. Not the life he’s crafted for himself, the strong friendships, what many would kill for. Not the tenacity to develop the skills he’s acquired for his job, or his job at all. Not his work ethic to acquire good grades or his diplomas. Not the way his dog gets excited when he gets home. He’s most proud of not failing, not falling, not losing. He sees how far he is from the bottom but never thinks to look up. Up. Coincidentally, the direction from which his demise rapidly approaches. But there is nothing scary, unknown, under his shoes, and there never was. Or will be.\n\nLife weighs on him. It’s abrasive, opaque, and heavy, and thick. He will never be crushed, or grinded (metaphorically, of course). Certainly there is value in the steadfast, the unbreakable, the constant. But certainly these qualities do not predispose one to greatness, to risk taking, to rising above.\n\nThe piano is not greatness. Greatness will never arrive. Signing the character’s death warrant signs the author’s, too. In a way. That vaunted moral greatness, internal greatness, non-material, all important, has died before delivery. That damned character was never going to seek it out successfully. It had to be delivered by someone in charge who went out of their way to do so.\n\nIn killing the character, in attempting to distance himself, he imprints his creation onto himself. To say he fit back like the last puzzle piece would be foolish. Once out of the mind, on paper, every author knows that the characters become alive and act of their own accord. Once he creates a person out of wordless thoughts, the author paradoxically loses omniscience. They cannot fully remain his creation but become subject to forces unknown.\n\nNothing released from the mind can be owned, but it can be returned. It can be changed." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You’ve never been able to see the world in anything but shades of black and white. One day, as you’re taking your usually bus ride to work, you look out the window and see a woman in full color." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My life is gray. And though after thirty years I've learnt how to make the best of my retinal disability, it's still depressing to consider how much brighter my life could be.\n\nMost days, though, I'm completely unaware of my colorless condition. Like other job-having citizens, I go to work five days out of the week, I'm a netizen in the evening, and on the weekends I read. I don't have a girlfriend, maybe because my perspective of the world leaks into my personality. I can still do most things normally, but tasks such as noticing the color of the stoplight, which is a fully subconscious thing people do during the partially subconscious act of driving, are full-on hindrances in my life. Which is why I've been forced to rely on the public transportation system.\n\nThe most interesting event I can recall happening on my routine bus ride to work was the time when I sat next to a stubborn, partly-opened window on a rainy day. Myself and an elderly man sitting behind me, using our combined finger strength and the power of teamwork, managed to close the stupid thing, but in that short window of time my tie absorbed a few droplets of water, which was enough to cement that day as a bad one.\n\nBut today on my regularly scheduled commute, I saw something miraculous. But before I reveal what I saw, let me give a little context for the sheer awe that I experienced.\n\nImagine for a moment that you are an air marshal. You've been flying around in airplanes across the country for so long that you're past the feeling of boredom and now hardly even give any acknowledgement or thought to your being inside of an airplane. Until during another mundane flight, when you look out of your window and see, gliding beside the wing of the plane, a Ho-Oh. A fully grown, flying legendary Pokémon. Words can not even begin to describe the unadulterated shock you've been sent into. While you were doing your normal thing of unconsciously existing, something that you didn't even think could possibly exist in the real world just appeared before your eyes. Now back to my bus ride today.\n\nI saw color.\n\nAnd like the air marshal analogy, I can't even begin to describe what I saw, because I never developed reference points for color words like \"red\" or \"yellow\" or \"purple\". But I know what I saw. Hues so spectacular, pigments so vibrant, vivid, intense, new, I was brought to outrageous tears. I only caught a view of the brilliantly chromatic woman for a few seconds, but I wept for the following 12 blocks, when it was my stop. Walking through my office building to my cubicle probably gave people the impression that a close relative had just died, or another one of my ties got water stains on it. But I couldn't be bothered with the assessments of others. Something in me had just been awakened. I felt conscious for the first time.\n\nTomorrow I'll make it into work once again on my reliable bus route. But I'll be looking for the luminous lady again. Block after block, I will be fully aware.\n\n\n\nedit: fixed a small plot hole" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: A female barbarian trapped in the fighting pits hatches a daring escape plan. It involves fucking her monstrous opponents to make them subservient to her" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This is just the first chapter and therefore not completely fitting to the prompt as it is just setting the premise. But if you guys enjoy it I will continue the story :)\n\n## The fight\n\nThe hot sand kissed Freya's sandals as she made her first step out of the iron archway into the combined embrace of the scorching sun and the cheering masses. After the first few steps, she stopped and let her eyes rest on the audience. Every last seat was sold, even though today was one of the hottest days of the year, and Dominicus had fucked up the repairs of the sun sails, again. It didn't give her pleasure to be the biggest draw in one of the biggest amphitheaters in Traiana. Sure, she was one of the best fighters here, and although the imbeciles up there were much too busy ogling her naked breasts than take notice of that, they nevertheless spent their money here on Diana's Day watching her fight, instead of at the pleasure houses. But ultimately, what it meant was that her master made a lot of money off her imprisonment.\n\nShe finished her gaze, and took a look at the opponent of the week.\n\nA huge and grizzled black bear was bound up at the other end of the arena. It was hard to make out from this far, but his erratic gait and wild roars suggested that Dominicus made sure the bear was in an especially foul mood. Fixing her eyes on her prey for today, Freya assumed her typical start stance – both feet firmly planted on the ground – put her left hand on her hip, and put her spear next to her with enough force so that everyone in the arena could hear it.\n\nDominicus, taking his cue, started to speak in the booming voice he commanded. It was his usual spiel about her savage origins, great achievements in the arena and her quasi-unbeatable foe this week. He made sure to mention her ample, “exotic” body at great lengths. God, how she hated him. Sure, he made a great showman – but what does that say about you when your audience consists of a bunch of idiots? As he ended his speech with the customary question: “So, will her winning streak end today?” she decided that the audience needed a little reminder that she was not just some piece of meat to be ogled at – Dominicus be damned.\n\nJust as the hands began freeing the bear from his shackles without getting mauled, Freya started a quick run toward the bear. As she got up to speed, she gave it another thought. If she made the fight look too easy, Dominicus would surely cut out the animals again. And sure, she enjoyed being able to fight some animal again instead of humans – it gave her a taste of her old life back, even if the fight happened in such artificial circumstances. But the look of confusion and anger on his face would make this all worthwhile… At her desired speed, she hurled the spear at the bear with the muscle memory of a life spent hunting. It made a perfect arc, and landed square between the eyes of the bear, which sagged on its hind legs and breathed its last breath.\n\nThe arena went silent for a moment – and erupted. Freya's gaze was fixed on Dominicus face. At first, there was her desired confusion – but after a while, it gave way to… contentment? Even… amusement? Hadn't she just ruined his big finale? But that couldn't be, could it? It was Diana's Day, after all. He had to have some trump card up his sleeve, a bear just didn't cut it as an opponent for such an occasion. And sure enough, Dominicus didn't miss a beat: “Our great hunter does our goddess her honors and slays the bear with just one stroke of her spear. Now, let's see how she fares against three!”\n\nWith the last word, Dominicus fixed his eyes on her, and the relaxed and distanced amusement he displayed to the audience gave way to something way colder and harder. Those eyes spoke only to her: “You are going to pay for this insolence.” Freya noticed, and then her mind returned to the task. Three bears? This fight will be worth her time after all! She thought as she sped to the dead animal at the other side of the arena to retrieve her only weapon in this arena…" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: Magical Sex Shop" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mary had heard that the sex shop on 4th street was one of the weirdest places in the city, and she had to go verify that for herself. She was shopping for Christmas presents anyways and she always liked to give away a few scandalous gifts to make a few of her friends turn red, and maybe she’d find something for herself or her boyfriend too.\n\nFrom the outside, it didn’t look terribly unusual. The building looked run-down and had some flickering neon lights inside, but it was par for the course in this neighborhood. She casually walked in and looked around. There was a lot of standard stuff you see in most sex shops, costumes, lubricants, BDSM gear, etc. There were also a few more unusual items such as bottles marked as “potions” and little bags marked as “hexes”, but Mary didn’t really believe in all that. She began to feel that perhaps this place was overhyped and it had not been worth going to the other side of the city just to see it.\n\nA man with long gray hair dressed in all leather (looking like something out of the 50s) came out of the back room and asked in a deep voice, “Hey, how may I help you?”\n\n“Oh,” Mary sighed, “I’m just looking around, thanks.”\n\n“Suit yourself!” he said cheerfully as he went and relaxed behind the front desk. “I’ll be here if you have any questions.”\n\nMary began to peruse all of the items in the store. One thing she noticed was that almost everything was twice as expensive as it was elsewhere in the city, but there was no apparent change in quality. She almost felt offended that this shop was so pretentious as to believe that people should pay double the price just to shop in their weird and overrated store.\n\nThen something caught her eye. It was an old wooden paddle. She knew that her friend Alejandra would turn bright red if she opened that at the Christmas party. Oddly, the paddle was marked as an “Independent Paddle for the Naughty.” She didn’t know what that meant, but she didn’t really care. She didn’t want to pay such a high price for it, but… maybe this shop deserved to be robbed. Maybe it would teach them something about having such unreasonable prices. That’s how free markets work, right?\n\nShe looked over at the attendant. He seemed to be completely ignoring her. He was engrossed in some old book and actually had his back turned to her now. That was pretty arrogant, he so deserved to get robbed. She has a backpack on and she quickly shoved it in her backpack and started walking toward the door. The man at the front seemed not to have even noticed she had done anything yet. She was almost to the door when she suddenly felt her backpack yank upwards and the paddle pulled up out of her backpack. She turned around fully expecting to be busted, but there was no one there. The paddle was hanging in mid-air seemingly attached to nothing. She stood still in shock for a moment. The paddle didn’t stay still for long though, it suddenly moved behind her and gave her a bottom a hard whack. She jumped and shrieked sharply.\n\nThe old shop assistant looked up from his book, saw the scene which was happening, chuckled a little bit, and stood up from his chair to go walk towards Mary. Mary tried to back away from the paddle, but it followed her and started to smack her legs when she tried to cover her bottom. “Help me!” she yelled to the assistant.\n\n“I offered my help before you were a thief,” the assistant countered. “You’ve activated the paddle now with your naughtiness. It’s giving you exactly what you deserve.”\n\n“I’ll sue you!” she yelled.\n\n“And what will you tell the court?” he asked sarcastically. “You got spanked by a magical flying paddle that you tried to steal?”\n\nIt hit Mary that she certainly was in a very odd and unusual position. “Make it stop!” she complained as she uncovered her bottom so the paddle would stop hitting her legs.\n\n“All of the items in this store have some sort of anti-theft measure,” he mused. “Just be glad you didn’t try to steal the sexy vampire costume! The only person who made that mistake made it out the front door but returned it the next day, and they were a few quarts of blood lighter! Stop resisting and your punishment will be over faster. The paddling gets more severe the more you resist.”\n\nIt was difficult, but Mary eventually agreed to just put her hands against a shelf and let the paddle go to work on her poor bottom. She really wished that she had chosen a pair of underwear that morning that covered more of her bottom, but given that not even the jeans she was wearing provided enough protection she doubted it. There were a few tears rolling down her cheek when the paddle finally stopped its assault and returned to its owner’s hand, but a part of her was almost proud of herself for taking the paddling so well.\n\nShe reached back and started furiously rubbing her bottom and asked, “Wait, so this place is actually… magical?”\n\nHe nodded. “You could say that, yep. This paddle that you were trying to steal, it obeys the instructions and requirements of its owner. Right now, I’m still the owner, and the owner does not change unless I sell it. These costumes over here, they actually can change a person’s whole personality, or their tone of voice, their disposition, and some of them even physical characteristics! Those restraints over there, well let’s just say you can run but you can’t hide. This potion? Some day it will put Viagra out of business! You don’t even need to worry if the erection lasts longer than 4 hours, but it certainly will if you drink enough! This lubricant can make you feel orgasms a lot stronger inside your ass!”\n\n“Wow,” Mary said in amazement as she was still rubbing her bottom. For some reason, the sting in her bottom was starting to make her feel hornier and as he went on and on telling her about different items in the store, that also made her hornier. She could barely think straight as they moved through the store, but she finally selected a few items to buy from the store, “And I’ll take… this paddle, and the lubricant too.”\n\nHe smiled and rang her up, he even gave her a small discount on the paddle because he was sure she would become a regular customer. As she checked out, he picked up the lube and said, “So, do you want to give this a test run?”\n\n“Oh god… I thought you’d never ask!”\n\nHe quickly led her to the backroom and applied some of the lube to his dick and she was getting down on all fours almost without realizing it, offering her ass up to him. He began to fuck her asshole, and she had never been a huge fan of anal, but she was loving every second of this. He kept on going and going and she was actually climaxing from anal sex, and it felt better than anything she had experienced before. Finally, he finished inside her and sent her on her way. She stumbled out the front door still in a daze, and started to make her way home. He just smiled, put a bottle of cologne back on the shelf, and went back to cleaning up around the shop." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: After too many nods to reality, the fourth wall finally shatters." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It started as a crack, a thin line that was only visible when it caught the light just right. Children saw it more easily than adults. Gradually, it widened, until it was always visible, and to everyone. Multicolored lights could be seen within, and sometimes, snatches of voices or music could be heard, always too brief to catch. News anchors spoke anxiously of the strange tear in space. Experts were called to determine what it could be. It was decided that such a strange anomaly must be dangerous, and so it was quarantined. The army set up a perimeter, five hundred meters out. Guards stood at attention every few feet, looking out, ordered to stop all the writers and directors that kept circling around.\n\nThey were ordered to keep people from coming in. They weren't expecting people trying to get out.\n\nIt was afternoon, just as the shift was about to change, when someone tapped on a guard's shoulder. He turned, and stared at the sight that greeted him. It was a boy, no older than ten, wearing a blue jacket and a baseball cap. A yellow creature sat on his shoulder, sparks issuing intermittently from its red cheeks.\n\n\"Hi,\" said the boy. \"I think I'm lost. Could you tell me where to find the gym?\"\n\n\"G-gym?\" stuttered the bewildered guard. The clothes could have been a costume, but the creature... The guard reached for the radio at his hip. \"I, uh, wait here, kid.\"\n\nThree more strangers had shown up before authorities could decide what to do with the boy. The next day, a dozen. By the third day there were over a hundred strangers in the quarantine, milling around while authorities tried to figure out what had happened, what to do, how to send the strangers back. Food, tents, and necessities were distributed, but otherwise, no one was allowed contact with them.\n\nThe news spread like wildfire. The populace spread into two separate factions: those who wanted embrace their beloved heroes with open arms, and those who feared them as they had never before feared a fictional villain. Conversations on the topic were always quick to get heated.\n\n\"I say we kill them all, as soon as then come out of that tear. Think about Voldemort. Think about Sauron, or Ramsey Bolton, or the Joker. What if they come through?\"\n\n\"You can't just kill them; they're people!\"\n\n\"They're not real. Not really.\"\n\n\"They're real if they're here, aren't they? Besides, what about Luke Skywalker? Or Superman? Or Samus Aran?\"\n\nThe strangers themselves had mixed reactions as well, to their new surroundings. Some seemed to not to notice that they were in a new realm. Others jumped at every new object they encountered. Some were unphased, as though they had always known of a world beyond their own. Most were confused. They quickly sorted themselves into groups, based on the similarity of their homelands. Researchers walked among them, asking careful questions, recording the responses. Often, the strangers had questions of their own, but always they remained unanswered.\n\nNo one knew when or how one of the researchers lost her phone. Maybe it had just fallen out of her pocket without her noticing, or maybe it was a deliberate act of theft. In either case, the phone quickly fell into the possession of a monkey with a tiny fez, then to his master. It was passed around the camp. The more technologically adept of the strangers bypassed the passcode with little problem. They were delighted to discover that even this primitive planet had an internet, and went online right away, eager to find out more about the strange world they had landed in. The phone was passed from hand to hand, perusing Wikipedia, or news articles about themselves. They were astounded to discover the plethora of media about themselves. Some were flattered. Others, mildly stalked. In either case, curiosity made them devour as much of it as they could, before passing the phone on to someone else.\n\nThey were always quick to hide the phone whenever the researchers, guards, or aid workers arrived. The personnel, for their part, couldn't help but notice the air of unease that was steadily growing.\n\nIt was months before a decision could be made about what to do with the strangers. An announcement was made to them, one morning, by a government official with a megaphone. \"We have decided that you may apply to leave the camp,\" he said, \"but permission must be granted on a case by case basis. If you do leave, you will still be required to check in on a regular basis, and keep us apprised of your whereabouts.\"\n\nThe strangers looked and one another. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Finally, as they died down, a man stepped forward to speak. \"Honestly,\" he said, \"we'd much rather you sent us home. But if you can't, then we'll just stay put here until you figure it out.\"\n\nThe government official was surprised. \"You don't want to leave?\"\n\n\"We're most of us a little uncomfortable with the idea of living amongst you.\"\n\n\"But why?\"\n\n\"Well...\" the man looked sheepish. They all did. \"Well, we discovered rule 34, and frankly you people disturb us.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: \"'Evil must be stopped at all costs.' A phrase oft repeated. Yet the Menace threatens to eradicate all life, and our heroes lie broken. If Good has failed, then Evil is our only hope at survival. So here I stand before you, during our darkest hour, with just one thing to say: I. Am. Evil.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He stood in front of the assembled rulers. They looked on him with fear and hatred, for he was one they had long fought against. The Exiled Paladin, who served the Dark Three. His silver armour shone with holy light, a blessing from Arbulax, God of Subjugation.\n\n\"You can hate me all you want. I consider you all weak, who would serve better beneath my feet. However, I will set aside such thoughts for now, for we have a common goal. The Menace is coming. It must be stopped.\"\n\nFinally, one of the ruler before him spoke. She was an elderly elf, as regal as ever. Her eye were filled with contempt, but her tone was surprisingly gentle.\n\n\"How are we supposed to trust you? You who have slain dozens of heroes, and slaughtered our armies for your own gain.\"\n\nHe smiled, bowing his head to her.\n\n\"Queen Ambulga, your mind is still sharp I see, despite your years. Yes, I have claimed many lives. I will claim more in the future, that much is certain. However, do not be blinded by your hatred. I am offering to be an ally in this.\"\n\nAnother spoke up. This one was a younger man, with a trail of green scales running from the sides of his eyes.\n\n\"Poltrus. You speak honeyed words. But you admit, you have killed many times. We have seen the results of your ambition. And you still expect us to trust you to help prevent a worldwide slaughter?\"\n\nPoltrus gave a smirk, spreading his hands wide.\n\n\"Trust is a strong word Dralgus. I would not expect that from you, nor will I trust you. But why would I seek to have all dead. If all are dead, who is there to serve the Three? I do not kill without purpose, as you well know. So I am proposing a truce. I help you fight back.\"\n\nHe raised a gauntleted hand, waving it forwards. As he waved, a black mass rose from his shadow. It dripped away, revealing a towering monster of undeath. It stood close to three metres tall, clad in thick black armour. In its hands it held a large bundle of cloth, wrapped tightly.\n\nThe rulers and guards gasped, a few jumping from their seats. To see a Risen Knight was a death sentence, save for the most powerful of individuals. Having one appear in their inner hall was a nightmare made real. As it took a step forwards, sound died.\n\nIt took one more step, placing the bundle on the wide war table. As it stood back up shadow eclipsed it once more, and it vanished back into Poltrus's shadow. He stepped forwards confidently, gripping the edge of the bundle. With a flourish he rolled it out, revealing a number of weapons. They varied in size and shape, but all contained an unmistakable power.\n\n\"This is a show of good faith, and intent. Trophies from the various battles I have won. I return them to you, for they would prove better used on the field than on my wall.\"\n\nHe took a step back, folding his arms.\n\n\"Now then, do you accept my help? Or are you going to let your hearts override logic, as those of your sensibilities are wont to do.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: 4 best friends become stranded on an island together. Little do they know, everyone had planned this but for different reasons." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The started at the fire. The four of them. Jamie, Taylor, Barbara and Edith. The cruise was going so well until the outing for the snorkelers.\n\nEdith was the closest to having a fit. It was her idea to go snorkelling, and had cried most of the day as she tried to claw her way back to the ship. She wasn't a very good swimmer, nor had she been terribly adventurous, which gave the entire idea something an odd taste in the others minds.\n\nTaylor, had taken lead. She made sure that the others kept their wits about them. She knew something was afoot and moved straight for the island before anyone else. If she knew something about the island, she would never tell.\n\nJamie was a portly woman. Not unfit or unhealthy, but pudgy around the sides. She had confidence issues, and wanted time away from her parents. The others were worried about her since she had been on fairly strong anti-depressants.\n\nWhich left Barbara. She didn't seem too perturbed about the entire situation. She hardly felt bothered by the entire episode, so much so that she was the first to break the silence at night.\n\n\"So, this might sound crazy but I've been here before.\"\n\nThe others looked up. \"My parents took me here for my fourteenth birthday, showing me that there was this secret nuclear bunker! My dad's military connections told me to come here if possible should something happen!\"\n\nEdith started crying.\n\n\"Don't worry! The world isn't ending! I know where it is and it has plenty of she-\"\n\n\"No.\" Taylor cut her off. She stood. \"No. Nothing's going to happen without my saying.\" Picking up a sharp bit of wood, she pointed it at Edith. \"Stop crying.\"\n\nEdith looked up, tears still pouring down her face. \"Why. We're never getting home.\"\n\nJamie pipped up. \"At least you don't have trust issues.\"\n\nEveryone looked at Jamie. Taylor, now pointing the stick at Jamie asked, \"What the hell did you just say?\"\n\nJamie, still looking into the fire replied. \"Everyone knows you don't trust us. The only reason you wanted to come was to make sure we didn't get new friends. Your dad knows Taylor's father, probably already knew about this place.\"\n\nEdith started crying again. Taylor tried to placate everyone. \"There's no need to fight, let's just go get something to eat!\" She bounced up, about to continue until Jamie interupted once more.\n\n\"You, little tart, just wanted another vacation. So, shut up while the rest of us figure out what to do.\" Barbara pouted, folded her arms again. \"Edith, you're the only one I can't figure out.\"\n\n\"Who the hell do you think you are? We got left behind! We made a stupid mistake not getting back to the boat!\" Taylor was edging herself closer to Jamie.\n\n\"Well Edith?\"\n\nEveryone looked at her. She stopped crying for a moment and looked up. \"I'm pregnant.\"\n\nSilence filled the night again. \"Jamie, I'm sorry. Travis never wanted you to know. I just wanted all of us to be friends.\"\n\nBarbara rushed to her side, comforting her. Jamie, took one of the stones from the fire pit, suddenly throwing it at Taylor. Grabbing a stick from the fire by the end of it, she charged Taylor. They fell together with a dull thud into the sand, Jamie trying to grab at Taylor's face. Taylor, overmatched batted away the stick, but started to gasp as Jamie shifted her weight over her stomach. As she lost her grip on Jamie, fingers pressed against her throat. Barbara and Edith could barely nudge her off. It was too late by the time Edith knocked her over the head with a rock.\n\nAs they dragged her to the ocean, they could only hear her mumble. \"I'll get you all...\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: A superhero who's power is that he can control %100 of his body." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tomas stood in front of his girlfriend, arms spread wide in a defensive posture that boasted a confidence he certainly wasn’t feeling. The man in front of him was brandishing a knife and had a wild look in his eye, his head tilted at an uncomfortable angle. He wore a strange smile on his face and spittle was running down his lips onto his chin. With a shuddering motion, the assailant took a step forward, closing that small gap between himself and his victims.\n\nJust then, a taxi appeared at the end of the alleyway and a large man wearing a suit stepped out of the vehicle. He slipped the taxi driver a 20 and then began confidently striding down the alleyway toward the madman. “Just what do you think you are doing?” The man in the suit asked with a deep baritone that seemed only slightly forced.\n\n“We’re just having a taste,” the madman said as more spittle flew from his lips. “Big man should mind his own business!”\n\n“Please help us!” Tomas yelled, hoping that with the man’s help he could overpower his attacker. At the very least the man could call the cops.\n\n“Fear not citizen!” The new arrival said with that dramatic tone. “For you are now under the protection of…Bodyguard!” As he exclaimed this he removed his jacket and attempted to rip his white button down open. Only a few buttons hung, but after a moment’s frustration he revealed a spandex suit with the letters “BG” emboldened on his chest. He then awkwardly undid his belt and removed his pants to reveal the rest of the ensemble.\n\nAt this point, curiosity seemed to overtake fear and insanity as the primary themes of the evening.\n\n“…Who?” The madman said, turning his attention to BodyGuard who stood in a stereotypical superhero stance.  \n\n“Look at me and know fear, criminal scum! For you look at justice incarnate, the heroic BodyGuard!”\n\n“Allow me to rephrase my question,” The madman said as he wiped the spittle from his chin. “Who the fuck are you? A superhero? Are we really doing this?” As he said this, the manic look in his eyes was replaced by something more along the lines of exasperation.\n\n“Yeah,” Tomas interjected. “Not to be offensive, but could just call somebody? Unless you actually have some kind of powers I feel like we are all kinda wasting our time here.”\n\nBodyGuard squinted his eyes in annoyance. “You dare challenge the power of the heroic BodyGuard! I, BodyGuard, have %100 control over my entire body!”\n\nAt this point Tomas’ girlfriend, Amber, spoke up. “So, like, you have control of your body? So you can like move your skeleton and stuff? Or make yourself super strong by controlling your muscles?”\n\nHad BodyGuard been a normal human, he would have blushed. Instead he lowered his head sheepishly and in a more conversational tone said, “Well… not really. See that stuff is pretty set in stone, I mean, if I moved my skeleton that would be like, crazy painful.”\n\nThe madman folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head. “Soooo… what exactly can you do?”\n\n“Well,” BodyGuard said as his forced baritone crept back into his tone. “The heroic BodyGuard has %100 control over his body!”\n\n“Right, you said that,” Tomas replied. “So like, you can handle hot and cold and whatnot?”\n\n“Well no, I can choose not to get goosebumps though!”\n\n“Okay, that seems kinda cool, I guess.”\n\n“I have complete control of my bowel movements!”BodyGuard exclaimed proudly.\n\n“Well that’s a good one, seems like more a nice feature than a superpower though,” Replied Amber.\n\nAt this point the madman held his head in his hands. “So you have a very regular BM schedule? Wait, so how much percentage of one’s body do most people have? Cuz I have never really thought to myself that I sure wish I had like %20 more control. This whole thing just seems kinda arbitrary. I really don’t understand this at all.”\n\n“Well I’m glad you asked ne’er-do-well! I guess most people probably have like %45. Most of the body is pretty much automated processes. However! I, the heroic BodyGuard have %100 control!”\n\n“So what you are telling me is that you have to control %100 of your body? So all those automated processes like breathing, blinking, and digesting have to actually be done actively instead of passively? That sounds fucking awful!”\n\nBodyGuard thought about this for a moment and realized how nice it would be not to forget to breathe occasionally. “Well, you know… there’s the whole pooping thing.”\n\n“Yeah yeah,” the madman said flippantly. “Listen, you’ve taken up enough of my time, I’m just gonna stab these people and drink some of their blood.” He turned to look for Tomas and Amber only to see them disappearing around the corner on the other end of the alley. “DAMMIT!”\n\n“HAHA!” Was the triumphant response from BodyGuard. “Another villain thwarted! Know that wherever evil lurks, Bodyguard will be there!”\n\nWith that he turned around walked down the street, trying to hail a cab. The madman sat down for a moment and contemplated existential thoughts. He realized that maybe he shouldn’t be out stabbing people and drinking their blood, he decided that maybe, he should be an accountant." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 400-500 words. Prompt: \"I don't care that they've hired pre-cogs. You said you're the best. Rob that bank!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Screw it!” I shouted, much too loudly for my companion’s comfort, and waved down the bartender. We were meeting at the local pub, a place I knew better than my own loft. To prove it, the bartender Johnny was already pouring a few shots of the well whisky. He knew what I liked, and I liked it cheap and alcoholic.\n\n“I’ll do it,” I calmly added. “I’ll do it tonight.”\n\n“Tonight?” She winced. “That’s too soon…you haven’t prepared.”\n\n“That’s the point.” I downed the whisky before the glass even settled on the table and ordered two more. My companion, a high-society type in a nice pink dress nobody should be wearing in a dive like this, raised a hand to adjust her golden locks. Really it was an excuse to hide the disapproving look she was trying, and failing, to wipe off her face.\n\n“The point? And you’re getting drunk.”\n\n“Oh, it’s only one shot of whiskey. Let me down five more first, then you can call me a drunk. Hell, you’re paying, so you can call me whatever you like.”\n\n“Don’t be so loud!” She hissed.\n\n“Don’t mind us!” I shouted louder. “Oh, we’re just planning a heist! Gonna steal from the bank, you know, the one on the corner of-“\n\nA white-gloved hand clamped shut over my mouth. I met the two lakes of ice staring daggers at me with a level gaze. “Mhpmhmph.”\n\n“Why are you shouting our plans? The constable-“\n\n“Mphmphhph-“\n\n“Oh, fine, just don’t shout again, alright?”\n\n“Mmph.” That meant I wouldn’t. She let go, and I downed the next two shots.\n\n“Y’see, lady, they don’t care, we’re all friends here. And there’s one good way to trick a pre cog,” I went onto explain, holding up two fingers. Hm, that wasn’t right. I folded one down. Oh, now it looked like I was flipping her the birdie. Heh.\n\n“One good way.” She was insistent I stay on track.\n\n“One good way, yeah. See, if you don’t know what you’re going to do next, there’s no way in hell a pre-cog can keep track of you. So, here’s my grand plan. Listen once, I won’t say it thrice…or twice, for that matter.”\n\nShe leaned in over the table.\n\n“I have to get so drunk I have no idea where I am or what I’m doing, and that way I can trick the pre-cogs and get into this treasure of yours.”\n\n“How will you know what you’re doing?”\n\n“Easy. I’ll write the box number on my palm, and drunk me will figure it out. Y’know, probably. It’s as good a plan as any, I assure you. No! Actually, it’s better!”\n\nIt is also, I didn’t add as I just motioned for the bartender to bring the whole bottle over, all she had.\n\n(Thanks for reading, C&C always welcome!)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Forget knights rescuing princesses from dragons. This time, a pirate rescues a vampire from a robot." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This day was not turning out the way Jeremy Bloods had expected it to.\n\nEverything started normally. Jeremy woke up at 8 PM, he had himself a nice breakfast of pig's blood (Jeremy is a nice vampire), and he went to work. Graveyard shift at Creepy Castle Hotel was Jeremy's comfort zone. He worked the desk job where he greeted the customers with his sharp teeth and wicked smile and helped them get settled into their rooms. It really got the customers into the mood of spending a night or two at the Creepy Castle Hotel.\n\nIt was around 1 AM that things began to get weird.\n\nJeremy was out for his lunch break. It was a bit later than he preferred, but he was happy to avoid vampire rush hour. However, going out late made it difficult to find animals that hadn't been sucked, so his search went a little bit further than he was completely comfortable with. He found himself near the sea where he found a few fish to drink. The blood was a bit on the salty side, but Jeremy didn't have anything to complain about–blood was blood after all.\n\nOn his flight back to Creepy Castle Hotel, Jeremy flew into a net. Normally a regular net would have been easy to tear with Jeremy's vampire strength, but this net seemed to drain Jeremy's strength. Solar-powered, the net was designed to specifically wear out vampires to make them easy to capture.\n\n\"Another vampire for my experiment.\" A tall robot with bright yellow eyes and metallic wings unraveled the net with Jeremy still inside.\n\n\"Hey, what are you doing to me?\" Jeremy asked as he was hauled to the nearby lighthouse.\n\nThe robot didn't respond.\n\nCaptain BlackBird was the proud captain of a group of pirates. They had sailed for months at this point after finding treasure after treasure, and they were looking for a place to rest for a night or two.\n\nThe crew followed the light of a lighthouse to a small dock. After asking the few people still up at the hour, they were recommended the Creepy Castle Hotel which was only a road away. With gold in their pockets, BlackBird led her crew to the Creepy Castle Hotel.\n\nCreepy Castle Hotel seemed understaffed. There was only one person at the front desk, and he was running around in confusion.\n\n\"Aye lad, what's got you in a pickle?\" BlackBird asked.\n\n\"My coworker has been missing for a few hours. He's usually punctual, but he's been on lunch break for much too long.\" The panicked worker responded. \"He's my best friend, and I'm really worried about him.\"\n\nBlackBird saw an opportunity. \"Me and me crew can find your man for a bounty.\"\n\n\"Yeah, the hotel will gladly compensate you for finding him.\" The worker responded with a speck of relief. \"His name is Jeremy Bloods. He's a vampire, and he looks like one.\"\n\n\"Any leads on where that vampire lad may be.\" BlackBird opened up an old map of the area.\n\n\"I've heard there's something weird about the lighthouse in the area. Other than that, he could be anywhere.\"\n\n\"Thank you lad.\" BlackBird eyed the lighthouse before gathering her crew to the entrance of Creepy Castle Hotel. \"Argh crew, we got a missing vampire lad for a bounty. We gotta spread out our search and meet back here after a bit.\"\n\n\"Aye Captain.\" BlackBird's crew responded before dispersing.\n\nWith her trusty cutlass and pistol in hand, BlackBird made her way to the lighthouse.\n\nGetting inside the lighthouse wasn't an issue. The door was oddly flimsy, and BlackBird knocked it down with a firm kick. However, BlackBird's true challenge had appeared–stairs. Being at sea for too long made climbing the stairs a nauseating task for BlackBird, and there were a lot of stairs.\n\nAfter what felt like a month's time at sea, BlackBird managed to get to the top where she found the vampire boy and a robot.\n\n\"Analyzing intruder.\" The robot immediately noticed BlackBird's arrival. \"Pirate BlackBird.\"\n\n\"Argh, that's me.\" BlackBird responded as she fired a shot at the robot which clipped the robot's shoulder. The robot responded with a energy blast which BlackBird barely dodged by taking cover behind some metal boxes. \"Nearly lost me head with that.\" BlackBird took a deep breath before kicking the box at the robot. It hurt her foot, but the sliding metal box grabbed the robot's attention for just long enough for BlackBird to get a clean shot at the robot's eye. \"X marks the spot.\"\n\nThe robot attempted to retaliate with another energy blast, but Jeremy grabbed the robot by the legs through the net and pulled with enough force to throw the robot's balance off. With that small distraction, BlackBird smashed the robot's remaining eye with the hilt of her cutlass before she pushed robot to near the window of the lighthouse. With one powerful kick, BlackBird kicked the robot through the window to fall to his doom.\n\n\"You the vampire lad?\" BlackBird asked as she cut through the net to free Jeremy.\n\n\"Yeah.\" Jeremy barely managed to say. His energy had been drained from the solar-powered net.\n\n\"Your friend been worried bout you. We gonna get you back to that hotel, so me gets me bounty.\"\n\nJeremy didn't have anything left to say as he let BlackBird carry him out of the lighthouse. It was long journey down for BlackBird, but the pirate and vampire were able to return to Creepy Castle Hotel in one piece.\n\nWith their coworker rescued, BlackBird and her crew got complimentary stays at Creepy Castle Hotel, and Jeremy vowed to never drink fish blood again." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: The first manned mission to Mars discovers an ancient spacecraft, buried atop what was once a mountain peak. Its dimensions correspond to those of Noah's Ark. On board is what appears to be a DNA repository." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Steve raced down the mountainside in his hover-buggy. At the base he rushed into the lab. \"Adam! I found the source of the reflection. It was a metal ship! Had to breach the Martian atmosphere to get it. Here, take a look.\" Steve fished in his pockets and brought out a metallic boat.\n\nAdam stared at it for five minutes, mouth ajar. \"Let's get a closer look\"\n\nSteve watched the monitor which displayed the microscope's feed. Clearly printed on the ship's side, was a written warning: KEEP ARC ABOVE 10000m TO AVOID DNA REPLICATION.\n\n\"Well it's a bit late for that,\" Adam said.\n\n\"DNA replication? What is -\" Steve stopped speaking and just stared slack jawed at the screen. From the boats entrance, flailing white tendrils emerged. On the ships decks, green stems protruded from port holes and other various orifices. They shot out into the air, aiming for the nearest lightsource. By this stage the entire entrance to the ship was blocked with, what appeared to be, explosive vegetative growth.\n\n\"Put it outside, now.\" Steve murmured.\n\nAdam picked up the ship with some tongs. Vines had now climbed up the mast and were swinging around trying to find purchase. Before they could attach to Adam, the arc was placed on Martian soil.\n\nOnce the Alien plants touched the soil, the growth took off. White tendrils dove into the ground and could be seen racing below the surface at a decent clip. The ship bulged under the strain, until finally ripping open.\n\n\"Those plants just ripped through metal..\" Adam said in awe.\n\nSteve watched a single green stem steadily growing in height, it climbed to a metre in about ten seconds, then it bent over under its own weight, until its tip touched the ground, forming a 'n' shape. The apex of the 'n' disintegrated leaving two new stems, both thicker than the original which began to repeat the process.\n\nEvery plant was something completely alien and grew at exponential rates. After only a couple of minutes Steve and Adam rushed to their ship before it became consumed.\n\nThe took off just as blue spindly lashings began grabbing at the craft's landing feet. They hovered in the air watching a jungle spread across the martian surface. The 'jungle' was a lot more complex than any system they had seen on earth. Great big sheets of green lay parallel to the ground, pointing at the sun like solar panels. Some trees emerged up to fifty metres tall, Adam and Steve watched as brown bark blades emerged from the tip and begun to spun like a windmill.\n\n\"It looks like the plants here are a lot better at harvesting energy,\" Adam commented.\n\nSteve just stared transfixed as the growth spread towards the horizon. Once the windmill tree started spinning, a whole crop of ten metre tall black stalks sprouted up nearby. From these, a thin leafy sail emerged and quickly filled with wind. A bark base formed underneath them, severing their contact with the ground. The plant yachts all took off in various directions. As they sailed past, other forms of vegetation hitched a ride and travelled over the horizon.\n\nThey noticed some plants becoming discoloured and wilted. \"Looks like nutrient deficiency,\" said Adam. \"I'm not surprised. They have a lot of competition.\"\n\nOther plants must have sensed the shortage, a magnificent single flower the size of a building began sending out vines which constricted around other plants, crushing them. Orbs began lobbing into the air, upon landing they would infect surrounding vegetation, transforming them into the original 'orb lobbing plant'. The giant windmill trees grew mini windmills at their base which spun fast like a blender, mincing nearby plants. It was full blown warfare.\n\nPlants started growing thick black defensive exteriors. And their weapons became more complex. The destructive orbs were lobbed faster and faster until they were bullets, ripping through any plant which lacked armour. A couple of plant yachts sailed just above the surface, a razor thin vine held between them. They decapitated anything that stood in their path.\n\nThe solar sheets grew flower like reflector cones which channeled the sun into fiery lasers. The Jungle was quickly transformed into an inferno. Those that survived the flames grew pods which transmitted swarms of insects. These could infiltrate the metallic armour around the remaining plants. The insects were countered with more and more complex forms of life until intelligent beings were created to protect their host plants.\n\nThe beings were small but they worked and advanced faster than the plants did. With the war for resources getting out of hand, they saw only one way to ensure their plant's survival. By communicating with other beings they built an arc in which they stored their plants dna. They flew the arc up to the mountains summit where it pierced the atmosphere, keeping it safe from the mounting warzone below and freezing the DNA. Eventually the plants advanced to nuclear warfare rendering the entire planet uninhabitable. The beings inside the ship could no longer support themselves and perished with the plants. The dust settled, revealing the red Martian planet.\n\n\"Well, I guess we can land again now.\" Steve said." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: It's 2076, and you've just found a prehistoric outlawed vehicle in your late grandfather's garage- a manually driven, fossil fuel powered car." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The cold metal shone in the sunlight, glinting cherry and chrome in the dawn. Dew clung to the gravel as I rubbed my hand along the doorframe.\n\n“What is it?” I asked my earpiece.\n\n“Corvette, Chevrolet Motor Company, 1968 Convertible.” It pinged in my ear. I nodded, thinking back on the old movies I had seen 20th century cars in. Despite being over a hundred years old, it gleamed like it had only been run yesterday. That hermetically sealed garage did its job well.\n\n“Motor?”\n\n“Information required, but all models of C3 Corvette contained a small block V8, gasoline powered engine between 5 and 7 liters . . . this just in from shangh-“\n\n“No News.” I demanded. “This is personal.” Leaning in my hand found the steering wheel, black leather slightly cracked. “Outlawed back in 63’ these were. You always had your secrets pops.” The keys were still dangling in the ignition. My eyes found the odometer.\n\n99,994\n\n“Jesus, is that in miles?”\n\n“Yes.” My engine chimed in again.\n\n“No, just shut up.” I ordered. “Never made it to 100,000 eh . . . well.” It was illegal, highly illegal, but my hand found the key, slowly turning the ignition.\n\nI never expected it to turn over, but without delay a low rumbling escaped the machine, an ancient roar as fluids burned and sputtered within the metal. It began to roll forward.\n\n“STOP!” I panicked and called to the car before I realized it couldn’t hear me. My hand gripped the steering wheel and tried to pull it to a halt, eyes glaring the shiftier, which was in drive. But the car kept moving, heavy steel dragging my onward. I tripped and stumbled as the beast leisurely rolled toward the end of the driveway, as I awkwardly fumbled with the gear knob.\n\nAt that moment I wasn’t sure what overcame me, maybe it was the horrible pollutants spewing from the car, maybe it was the childlike yearning that the machine triggered, but I somehow pulled myself over the open top and into the driver’s seat. My brain swirled, that dream about being an action hero I had forgotten long ago returning clearer than ever. I could be like James Bond, or Vin Diesel. It was something like that got me to remember which pedal was go and which was stop. I slammed on the brake and the car lurched. My Adrenalin soared.\n\n“Okay . . . now I’m breaking two laws.” I didn’t have a driver’s license, hell nobody did, not like anyone needed to drive, so why was my foot beginning to find the accelerator, why was I checking the gearbox, confirming it was an automatic? As I pressed, the steel roared, a guttural cry of passion as my brain smiled in awe.\n\nMaybe it was the control, something about being able to command the car, through cables and hydraulics, something so direct. There was nothing there, no wires to stop me from swerving off the road, no computer to drive me, not even a GPS to direct me. It was raw, it was free, unbound from the net. I pressed the gas again and the car bucked in response, ready to ride. Ever so gingerly, my foot left the brake.\n\nThe car started slow as I turned left onto the concrete road, despite having never driven, it felt natural. Like swinging a sword, or riding a horse. I wasn’t good, but I could do it. The lines in the road glowed over the fog, pink sky welcoming. I looked back at Pops' house, low lying in the ferns of the backwoods. I suddenly understood why he wanted me to have it, while I pulled one hand off the wheel and plucked out my earpiece. There was a pause as the birds chimed over the rumble. I smelled the breeze, the oil of the engine, the leather of the seat, it was all so real, so natural.\n\nI gunned the gas and took off, the Corvette unleashing its full force. Like a banshee it wailed into the brush, no doubt waking up every deer for miles. Despite my fear, a smile was crossing my face, I had never felt so alive." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Your parents have just woke you from a VR simulation that you thought was real life. Only problem is, you mentally are not a teenager anymore, and technically have more life experience than they do." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As I lay there in that bed I knew I would never see outside the walls of the hospital again. I was well into my 90s. I had buried 2 children, seen the world recover from nuclear warfare, and watched as humans were sent to inhabit other galaxies. I had survived the genetically engineered virus intended to curb population growth, and dedicated my life to rebuilding humanity in it's wake. If anything, I was happy with what my life had been. My time had come, and I was content with that.\n\nWhat I didn't expect was to wake up in the body of a teenager. I was in a twin sized bed, not too unlike the one I had spent my past few months in. The walls were plastered with vintage Star Wars posters and a collection of Nike basketball shorts littered the floor.\n\nIt took me a moment to notice the two figures standing at the foot of my bed.\n\nThat's when it clicked: the shag carpet, the baby blue wallpaper, the ceiling fan. I grew up in this room, almost a century ago.\n\nMy parents explained it all over lemonade and chocolate chip cookies. I was one of the ones lucky enough to test a new VR simulation that let people live out the rest of their lives, while only taking a couple hours in real time. They were eager to hear about what I'd seen, and what the world was like where I had been.\n\nGranted, the world I spent my time in was only a prediction of what the future might be like. The scientists couldn't be certain, but they could give it a pretty good guess.\n\nI didn't know where to start. So much had happened in the 80 years since I'd last been in this room.\n\nI finally settled on explaining our nuclear battle with the UNHR, in which I had served as a 3rd degree technical officer. It took a few minutes of describing radiation patterns and intergalactic communication before I realized they weren't following a thing I was saying. How could I forget? The United Nation of Humanoid Relics was only formally recognized as a sovereign nation in 2030, and intergalactic aid in times of global disagreements was first used in 2024.\n\nOf course they didn't understand. I had learned about galactic radio waves in an introductory course in college, but they were still going off 20th century research. All the basic knowledge I took for granted they just couldn't wrap their heads around.\n\nI was getting frustrated, but I knew the conversation couldn't end without explaining my role in the release of The Virus. That'd finally make them understand just how accomplished I had been in the future.\n\nI expected their pride in the fact that I was selected to be on such a prestigious committee, but instead they were horrified at what I'd done. My brags of genetic profiling and selective ethnic targeting were met with looks of shame and disgust. How could I kill millions of innocent people? How could I let my loved ones die?\n\nSometimes you have to make sacrifices for the good of mankind. They really just didn't get it.\n\nI stayed with them for a couple of days, then I moved out. I couldn't take it anymore. I connected with some other kids from the VR trial and we all rented a house together. We pooled our remaining money for bio lab time at the local university, where in a few short months we were able to recreate The Virus.\n\nMy parents might have lived in a world of ignorance, but I was no fool." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: While you and your spouse collect data for a new science project, your son enters the house and asks for you both. “Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend! Cassandra say hi to my parents.” You and your wife look at each other concerned, wondering how test subject 32-B escaped the complex." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Well, damn,” Liz sighed, and pulled her gas mask off the wall.\n\nI mirrored her action on my side. “Hallucinating a son, eh? How deep do you think we are?”\n\n“Hallucinating a son, hallucinating a girlfriend,” Liz corrected me. “Pretty deep. Hang on tight, this could be a wild ride.”\n\n“It’s so good to meet you,” Cassandra laughed. “Oh, you two aren’t allergic to dogs, are you?” She opened her purse, and a tiny poodle head popped out. “This is Fluffles, my pid pod puppuperonni…”\n\nHer voice began to slur, and fade. I picked up my clipboard and made a note.\n\n“Experiencing a B-32 leak,” I said slowly, speaking as I wrote. “While frustrating, it is good to know that the nested hallucinations do occur under the influence. Confirmed that Liz and I both see a son, who is hallucinating a girlfriend named Cassandra, who is hallucinating a small purse dog named Fluffles.”\n\n“At least, we were,” Liz said wryly. I looked up, and saw that Cassandra was little more than a shadow.\n\nTom looked at us with horror in his eyes. “Oh my god,” he pleaded, “Mom, what’s happening?”\n\n“Don’t worry, buddy,” I said, “this will all be over soon.”\n\n“Don’t talk to the delusions,” Liz reminded me. I nodded and looked back at the clipboard.\n\n“I’m not a delusion, though!” Tom said, and he looked at his hands. “What’s wrong with you two? I’m not a delugeion-eeonyony…”\n\n“Ooh, verbal dispersal,” Liz said, with interest. “Wrote that down!”\n\nI looked down at my hands. My brow furrowed. I looked back at the desk behind me. “Honey, didn’t I just have a clipboard?”\n\n“Don’t tell me you lost it! That’s weeks worth of data-beta!”\n\nI opened the drawer. “Of course not, it was right…” I froze. “What did you just say?”\n\n“I said, that notebook has weeks worth of data-beta-badda-dadadadadada…”\n\nI turned just in time to see an empty gas mask fall to the floor.\n\nI fell to my knees, picking up the mask and gazing at it hopelessly. A creeping horror came into my mind then, a chilling ‘what-if?’\n\nWhat if B-32 didn’t cause hallucinations? What if it caused disappearances?\n\nIn terror, I ran and struck my head against the wall. “No!” I cried. “It can’t be!”\n\n“He’s doing it again, doctor,” I said, with a sigh. I gazed through the observation window at the padded room. Dr. Kim stood beside me, looking somber.\n\n“Describe the behavior,” he said to me.\n\nI nodded, and went into my clinician voice. “Cycle begins with subject working on some unknown substance or device called B-32. Subject turns, seems to notice someone who is not physically there, then begins verbally documenting a number of hallucinations. The hallucinations begin to disappear, only for the subject to grow increasingly distressed, until finally throwing himself against the padded wall until exhausted. Subject spends a few hours in a catatonic state, and then begins cycle over again.” I heaved a long sigh. “It’s really quite sad.”\n\n“Or, unsettling, perhaps?” Dr. Kim suggested.\n\nI looked up at him, a bit confused. “I… suppose?”\n\n“Horrific?” He suggested again. “Like from a story?”\n\n“I don’t know what you’re…”\n\n“For god’s sake, GroovyNoob,” he snapped, exasperated. “Look again!”\n\nI looked again. The room was dark, and empty. I got a sinking feeling in my gut.\n\n“It’s always been empty, hasn’t it?” I asked, with my heart in my throat.\n\n“Worse,” Dr. Kim replied. “It doesn’t exist. Wake up, man!”\n\nI woke in my bed, and checked my phone. There was the story, mostly written, but unfinished. “Better finish up,” I thought.\n\nExcept, that wasn’t right either. There is no GroovyNoob, is there, Steven?\n\nSteven, can you hear us? Are you still in there? We’re all here for you, buddy. We’re rooting for you.\n\nCome on, Steven.\n\nWake up!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Satan was cast from heaven after discovering that God was a truly horrible, awful deity and he actually rebelled against Him for the good of all humanity. The truth was removed from the Bible." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Boom! Stomp! Bang! Boom! Stomp! Bang! Boom! Stop! Bang!\n\n\"Quiet down!\" Satan yelled up to humanity from the center of the Earth.\n\nYep, he was actually there. He wasn't living in fire, pain, agony, whatever. He had a quaint and charming 1 bedroom studio apartment with central air and a spiral staircase.\n\nThe neighborhood was OK. On his right there was a young martian family who's grandfather designed the Pyramid of Giza — they had an above ground pool. Satan tried not to be judgmental but tacky is tacky. On his left was Big Foot, the one and only. He was a sexual deviant and always threw wild parties and walked around naked with the the blinds open. He was cordial, though.\n\nSatan grabbed his flip phone and dialed. The noises of the Earthlings continued, accompanied with the faint noise of ringing.\n\n\"Hey Beelze. Sup? Cool. Listen the world is way too loud for me to sleep right now. I got an 8 ball of cocaine, some whiskey and a ping pong table. You in? Great. See you in a bit.\" Satan flipped the flip phone closed with a flip.\n\nBeelze was his dude. They had moved down here together after the banishment by the Almighty Prick. They got fucked up and played ping pong a lot — Hell was pretty all right.\n\nBeelze arrived quickly and the two got to getting. A couple of lines, a shot, a couple of lines, a shot, a couple of lines, a couple more lines — oh boy.\n\n\"Fuck that fucking arrogant twat!\" Satan said with a coked out swat of the ping pong paddle. Beelze returned with a coked out back hand. He was used to Satan bitching about God and, frankly, was bored of him being all bitch and no slap.\n\n\"Go up there and curb stomp his messed up ass,\" Beelze suggested. \"You know he's probably up there beating it to the humans cutting each others heads off with butter knives. He's sick!\" Beelze said coked out and grossed out.\n\nHe really was sick. God sucked. He just was better at playing the game than Satan and his crew, and bigger and stronger too. He was a complete sociopath, and couldn't give two shits about the human condition. Satan, on the other hand, gave lots of shits about the human condition. Their existence is just sad, he would always say. Most every human on Earth saw Satan as an evil villain snake-thing, and that made him sad. Satan coked out spiked the ball to end the coked out game.\n\n\"You can't just kill God, Beelze! He's not some fragile human, he's life itself and can bench 280. The only way God can die is if he killed himself, and pray for that,\" Satan said pointing his middle finger at the heavens. The thud of loud hip hop permeated the 1 bedroom studio apartment.\n\n\"Fucking, Big Foot, man. That dude does more blow than we do,\" Satan looked out the window at his neighbors house. Cocaine is a fleeting high, and he needed another bump, but for a few minutes he felt like the Angel of Light. The shivering sensation of learning to love yourself made him tear up a little. He wiped it away and went back to the coke.\n\nSatan and Beelze played ping pong the rest of the night, until every way in hell to get fucked up was exhausted. As Satan drifted to sleep on the sofa he said to Beelze,\"I would rather have one great friend in hell than be God.\"\n\nHe meant it, and it's true. Everyone in the world knows it's true." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: VR is a hit, and after years of anticipation, Roller Coaster Tycoon VR arrives. You are in the game and decide to get on Mr Bone's Wild Ride." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Everybody talks about Mr. Bones Wild Ride. I’m looking forward to it.\n\nThe line is a bit long, but I’m sure it’ll be worth it. I was able to glance at the track on my way to the queue; it looks like it must have been expensive to take up so much land and track. All the cars look empty though, maybe they’re doing some test runs?\n\nPassing through the one-way turnstile, I notice a weird bug. All the other riders in line have player names, but they’re just shuffling forward mindlessly like NPCs. How strange.\n\nThere was another turnstile to the right of the entrance that NPCs are shuffling through. Must be an alternate entrance?\n\nI can see the starting point. I’m so excited!\n\nYes! Mr. Bones Wild Ride, here we go!\n\nWe’re moving out of the starting area, slow and steady.\n\nWait a minute… I can see the next five cars in front of us, moving slowly up the track. It just weaves in and out. Surely there’s\n\nmore to this ride?\n\nNo. No there is not. I have no idea how long the game will leave me stuck here, so I’m just going to hit the over-ride.\n\nIt’s not working. The game’s stuck and won’t let me off this stupid ride.\n\nLemme try the system menu command, that should work from anywhere.\n\nWhy isn’t it coming up? Oh I knew I shouldn’t have been an early adopter. “Let someone else pay to be a beta tester!” Ugh,\n\nwhatever. Stupid machine.\n\nWait…\n\nI can’t feel the VR helmet.\n\nI can feel my head, but there’s no helmet there.\n\nHow do I take this damn thing off?!\n\nOh god. This is wrong. This is all wrong.\n\nThe ride restraint! I can feel it! There shouldn’t be sensory feedback!!!\n\nWHAT’S GOING ON?! LET ME OUT!\n\nMaybe… maybe it’ll let me go after the ride finishes?\n\nI don’t know how long that will take, it feels like I’ve been here for hours but I can still see the starting ride entrance. I don’t remember being able to see the riders from there. I’m waving, screaming at them, but they don’t see me.\n\nHow many players were ahead of me? Are they trapped too?\n\nAll I can do is wait.\n\nI’m not hungry. I can’t keep track of time in this infernal game, but it must have been hours since I was trapped. I should be hungry. I should be thirsty. I should need to use the bathroom. What the fuck is this machine…\n\nI don’t know how long it’s been. I don’t feel hungry or tired. All I can do I sit here, waiting for the end.\n\nHelp me. Anyone. I have no idea how long it’s been. Days or weeks… months? I should be dead. I wish I were dead.\n\nMy car moved around a corner, and as I looked through the hedge I spotted a tunnel. I haven’t seen a tunnel before. Maybe it’s the end? My god, it is! I saw someone stumble out of their car! It’s on the far side, I don’t know how much track is between here and there. PLEASE, LET ME GO!\n\nMr. Bones must be the Devil. He gave me hope, and ripped it away. There was a section of track that escalated upwards for a while. It even rotated the damn car so you’d see the whole damn ride. It’s only a mile wide. All these tracks are only a mile long. And I was only halfway through.\n\nThe game won’t let me cry.\n\nI’m at the end.\n\nThe restraint lifts.\n\nI walk to the exit.\n\nThere’s a winding footpath.\n\nThere are walls I can’t see around the path, like I’m in a tunnel.\n\nThe path continues.\n\nThere is a bathroom, but what’s the point?\n\nI follow the path.\n\nThe path is escape.\n\nTurn left, turn right, turn left, turn right.\n\nI go through a turnstile. There’s another to my left, but the path points to the right.\n\nThere’s a line to get to the exit. Some of the people are smiling.\n\nOh.\n\nOh, I see.\n\nOne never gets off of Mr. Bones Wild Ride." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Air, Earth, Fire, and Water aren't the elemements that magicians can manipulate. No... each magician has control over an element of the periodic table. However, in a world without science, this makes magic a little precarious." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Warning: on mobile. The story is a bit nsfw as well.\n\nI’d been wanting to be apprenticed to a knight for as long as I’d been able to read. The stories about them, their glorious shiny armor glinting in the sun as they courageously charged into battle on battle-hardened steeds, were awesome to me. This goal was the only reason that I liked being an orphan. Instead of being trapped by your father’s profession, orphans are fortunate enough to be apprenticed under any master if they are deemed worthy enough. Therefore, I’ve been training for all my life in hopes of achieving knighthood. Weapon training with the blacksmith’s son and helping the baker’s son lift heavy sacks of flour were seen as an orphan finding a place in the village, but to me they were tools to get my apprenticeship. This left me as a bit of an outcast among the other orphans, who spent their days working the fields. They would say that I was too hopeful, that it is rare that an orphan gets picked to be an apprentice, to a knight no less. Nevertheless I still clung on to the hope; it was all I had.\n\nThe day finally came to be tested for apprenticeships. This was done in a small gathering of the various craft masters and the baron, or leader of the village. As the baron of the village asked the orphans what they would like to be apprenticed into, they each said, “Fieldwork.” Naturally, I turned heads when I proudly announced, “Knighthood.” As the masters muttered, Sir Rowley, the knight master, examined me from head to toe. I did my best to look regal, puffing out my chest and standing ramrod straight. He clucked his tongue in disapproval, and went with the other masters to devise a way to test me. When they returned, the tension in the room was so heavy that you could cut it with a dagger. They announced that to be considered for a knighthood apprenticeship, I would have to duel the knight master.\n\nThe other orphans looked at me dolefully, as if saying, “Told you so.” I gritted my teeth as I considered my options. I knew that the odds were extremely stacked against me, but even I was surprised when they said suddenly, “Real weapons.” Were they trying to kill me? But, in the end, I really had no other option. I mustered my courage and agreed to their terms.\n\nThe next morning, we were in the ring for the duel. There was a sizable crowd at the arena, taking off work to see a young orphan put in his place. When the duel started, I was running purely off of adrenaline. It didn’t help me much in the beginning. Against someone so much better in swordsmanship than I, there was no chance of me coming out on top. The crowd jeered, laughing at my pathetic performance. When I was slashed in the lower abdomen, I knew I was done for. The despair made me internally crumble. Everything that I’d worked for was all for naught. Then, I got a rush of power. My armor suddenly seemed lighter, and I held my sword steadier. When I attacked him, he was so caught off guard that I managed to get a small cut on his arm. The crowd feel silent as he toppled, blood flowing out of that small cut like water. It was as if his blood had lost all viscosity, all thickness. He just laid there for what felt like an eternity, white as a sheet, with his own blood surrounding him in a red halo. Then, I blacked out.\n\nI am in a wooden cell, bouncing in a carriage. I do not know where I am, or where I am going. I do know that the knight master is dead. I flinch as my left bicep scrapes against the cell. Peering at it, I find two letters tattooed into my side, FE. I don’t know what these letters mean, but I do remember what the mysterious man said to the driver before locking me in here.\n\n“It’s unheard of commoners to have magical powers. So, he’s a bastard noble son that was abandoned. Yep, he’s an iron mage. Never seen that trick with the blood though, he must be powerful. Imagine taking all the iron out of someone’s bloodstream, and cutting them to watch it all flow out? Brutal. We’ve restrained him for now, yes. Don’t carry metal in your cart. Take him to the capitol. These iron mages are dangerous.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: A witch cursed your name to be hated for all of eternity. So of course, the first thing you do is willingly give it to a fae." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I knew a girl named Maddie. We met in the fourth grade, she was a transfer student which was an oddity for our school of one hundred students. We had the same class from preschool all to way to fourth, the same fifteen children. There had been lore - Johnny's elaborate plan to rid himself of his front teeth via his older brother's airsoft gun, Brian's deep love for an older girl a grade above us, Alice almost getting hit by a car that sped past our school bus.\n\nMaddie didn't know about any of it and no one would teach her. It led to her absolute isolation. For days, Maddie ate alone or with a teacher or a volunteer parent.\n\n\"I bet she eats dirt for fun and collects bugs,\" Henry Clivers said.\n\n\"I heard that she hates all of us,\" Rachel Monda said.\n\nThere were many rumors that sprawled into stories as Maddie got lore of her own. Her voice was scratchy or deep depending on the day, no one knew why. My parents had heard of the light bullying and asked me about it because they didn't want to think they raised a mean child.\n\n\"Try talking to her,\" my dad said. \"No one talked to your mom until I did.\"\n\n\"Really?\" I asked, looking at my mom.\n\n\"No, not really.\" My mom said. She punched my dad in the shoulder. \"But you should still talk to her, how would you feel if your friends starting treating you like the way you guys treat Maddie?\"\n\nI thought about it, I wouldn't like it at all.\n\n\"What do I talk to her about? I heard she eats dirt and collects bugs.\" I said.\n\n\"Don't you like bugs?\" My mom asked.\n\nI did like bugs.\n\nThe next day during recess, I left my friend group, I told them I was going to try to talk to Maddie. They gasped in genuine surprise, they called me brave (and stupid).\n\nMaddie was in the corners of the soccer field where the fences melded into the overgrown bushes. The bushes and vibes and flora grew too quickly for our janitor to keep up with it. It had become Maddie's sanctuary, the grass leading up to was trodden, creating a path to where I thought she was.\n\n\"Maddie?\" I called out.\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"It's Matt,\" I said. \"Matt Borg.\"\n\n\"And what do you want, Matthew Borg?\" she asked.\n\n\"I want to know if it's true that you collect bugs,\" I said.\n\nShe walked out of the overgrowth, her hands and knees were covered in dirt. Her hand was closed and she walked up to me. Slowly she opened her closed fist and in it was a praying mantis, its head moved around, it pranced around her hand.\n\n\"Want to hold it?\" she asked.\n\nI did.\n\nI visited her again the next day and the day after that, I told her eventually about the school's lore and of the other children. My friends and classmates asked me why I talked to her and I told them that I too liked bugs, that there was nothing wrong with that. They teased at first, but grew out of it as the years passed. Maddie and I talked and visited and played with the growing years until the year before high school where she asked me for a favor.\n\n\"Matt,\" she said. \"I have to ask you for something.\"\n\n\"Sure,\" I said.\n\n\"You can say no, it's a really important thing.\"\n\n\"Sure,\" I said again.\n\n\"I need your name,\" she said.\n\nI was blank faced, \"You want to marry me?\"\n\nMaddie laughed hard for a half minute.\n\n\"No, no. I need your actual name.\" she said. \"I haven't been completely honest with you.\"\n\nShe told me about how she was a witch, which wasn't entirely a shock to me, and she told me that she was the last of her family because of the curse. The curse that she'd been holding onto since she was a baby. It was the curse that kept other people away from her, why none of my old friends had wanted to talk to her. She was okay with dying, I thought that she was brave (and stupid) for being okay with that, but she had been growing less and less okay with it every passing day.\n\n\"The curse is holding me back,\" she said. \"I want to ask you for your name so I can curse it.\"\n\n\"You want to curse me so that everyone hates me instead of you?\" I asked.\n\n\"Yes,\" she said. \"But temporarily.\"\n\n\"Temporarily?\"\n\nShe said she'd been studying and researching ways to rid the spell. She heard of a colony of fae that specialized in reversing spells, exorcisms, general healing. She said that she couldn't find the colony if she were cursed, she wanted me to hold onto it until she could find them. She promised to heal me.\n\nOkay I said.\n\nShe gave me a kiss on the lips and I felt the coldness of it and of course, the coldness of others. It had hit my parents first, they had yelled at me for the first time in years, asking me where I was, asking who I hung out with, they doubled my chores and halved my allowance. What was left of my friend group had disappeared, anywhere I walked, people moved away, running across the street, snickering about my appearance, my hobbies.\n\nThe next day Maddie was gone. She wasn't home, she didn't answer my phone calls, my emails, my text messages. She was entirely gone from the world, leaving no trace of her.\n\nDuring the weekend, I went to visit the one place I thought she could be, her old sanctuary and our meeting place. I hopped the fence that guarded our elementary school and I walked the edges until I met the overgrowth which was left exactly the way we left it except in one way. Deep inside the grass was an envelope, dated just a few days ago.\n\n\"To Matt,\" it read.\n\n\"Thank you and sorry. I'll be back as soon as possible, but if you start to lose faith in me, look to the end of this room and follow me.\"\n\nI looked and saw a dark hole, a step ladder was next to it. I thought about how long I could handle the curse for, how long would it be until I too was okay with dying.\n\nI walked forward and followed her down the hole to where the fae lived." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You have died. However, instead of arriving at the Pearly Gates, you find yourself in a waiting room. The elevator in the corner is blocked by a sign: OUT OF ORDER. Scrawled on the bottom in messy handwriting, there's more: THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The place I found myself in was not what I expected, but I would be hard pressed to say what exactly I can expect in the afterlife. There was nothing glorious about it, no fluffy clouds with cherubim sitting on them with their wings and playing their harps. It was a room of some sort, an unadorned room with seats like those at the airport gate and a glossy tiled floor that looked freshly mopped. All that was missing were bored and surly bureaucrats sitting behind the counter.\n\nAll I could see besides the spare furnishings of an unextraordinary waiting room was the elevator. It wasn’t the kind of elevator I was using to seeing, the kind that is built into the wall. This one was a freestanding column.\n\nI took some time to regard this elevator, and it was a while before I realized that there didn’t seem to be anybody else in this waiting room. Did I catch the anteroom of the afterlife on a holiday? Do I have to wait here until the next business day? That’s about what one can expect from such a characteristically bureaucratic institution. Not even the afterlife can escape the necessity of files and records and forms and red tape and civil servants and the interminable waiting.\n\nI supposed that if I was going to wait here in this waiting room for something to happen, I might as well take a closer look at the mysterious column that seemed to rise infinitely into the sky. I made my way to the double doors of the elevator. A sign was posted on the doors: “Out of order” in neat printed letters, and below it was a handwritten scrawl, unsteady as if written by your non-writing hand, “Thank you for your patience,” like some kind of hasty postscript that only occurred to the sign poster to add right at the moment they posted the sign, perhaps to make it more friendly. Oh no, it’s quite all right, I understand these things happen and I am more than willing to be accommodating such as situations like these require, I thought with irritation.\n\nI took a few steps back to bring the whole scene back into view: an empty waiting room with seats and an elevator that didn’t work. Well, I might as well have a seat, I thought, and walking over to the seating area, I sat down on the first seat that was closest.\n\nSince it appeared it was going to be a lengthy wait for whatever I was waiting for, I figured I could pass the time by reflecting on the situation I found myself in. People die all the time all over the world, I thought. If you have to wait before moving on into the afterlife, why aren’t there more people in here? What’s the deal with the elevator? Is this the conveyance that brings people to heaven or hell? Why is it out of order? Things can be out of order even in the afterlife? Things are as inconvenient here as they were on earth.\n\nSuddenly I realized there was something I didn’t bother to check for. I jumped out of my seat and ran back to the elevator. No call buttons. Someone else had to send this elevator to you.\n\nSo I have no control over this elevator, I thought. It has to arrive on its own, or by the hand of an unknown agent.\n\nAnd I finally understood.\n\n“Souls bound for heaven get a working elevator that only goes up,” I said aloud. “Souls bound for hell get a working elevator that only goes down.” He glanced at the “Out of order” sign. “And souls who get a broken elevator are doomed to spend eternity in this waiting room.”\n\nNo sooner did the words leave his mouth than he witnessed the lettering of the sign disappear in a swirl before resolving into a new message for the unfortunate soul that solves the riddle: “Welcome to Limbo.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: A man mistakenly summons a demonic being from another dimension, who must now adapt to live in normal Human society." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It began, as so many bad decisions did, with a glass of whiskey that got accidentally spilled.\n\nBy happenstance, the bartender had only moments earlier knocked over a tray of salt for margaritas. The whiskey hit the salt and ran down the bar, until it hit a stained napkin on which some person had idly doodled a star.\n\nJim Wrent slammed his hand down on the bar, laughing (with entirely too much gusto) at the joke of his coworker. It came down on the beer-and-whiskey soaked napkin with the star. Jim cackled, \"holy shit, that's the funniest goddamn thing I've ever heard, Zed.\"\n\nExcept, in his drunken state, the name didn't really come out as \"Zed.\" It was a mushier sound, all slurred edges and pulped consonants. He had said, \"Zetzsch.\"\n\nAnyone who is a scholar of obscure 18th century Smyrnan occult texts can state, without reservation, that Zetzsch is a being from the Third Minor Arcana, a winged horror from the world of Yetzirah, whose particular penchant is for moderate to severe boils.\n\nIn a puff of sulfurous smoke, Zetzsch appeared in all his winged glory, green scales glowing with the light of other worlds, crown of short, stubby horns oily beneath the half-light of the bar.\n\n\"Whassat?\" Jim said, burping.\n\n\"You have summoned me, o dark sorcerer,\" Zetzsch croaked in heavily-accented English. \"Command me, that I may be released from this bondage.\"\n\n\"Eh?\" Jim squinted, trying to focus his eyes. A woman further down the bar screamed and fainted. The bartender dropped a glass.\n\n\"I ask for your command, mortal meatsack,\" Zetzsch wailed.\n\n\"I, uh,\" Jim stuttered. \"Like, a wish?\"\n\nZetsch sighed. \"I am the giver of the affliction, the keeper of pustules and the lord of boils. Who hath displeased thee, that I might afflict them with lesions most dire?\"\n\n\"I don't want that,\" Jim said. \"That's awful.\"\n\n\"Well,\" Zetzsch said, kicking one taloned foot at the rail beneath the bar. \"I can also cure them?\"\n\n\"I don't have any boils!\" Jim recoiled in horror.\n\n\"I could... give you some?\" Zetzsch suggested, before shaking his head. \"Yeah, bad suggestion.\"\n\nJim nodded. Then, he held up his hand. \"Hey, uh, can you cure, like, any boils?\"\n\nZetzsch shrugged. \"It is my domain.\"\n\n\"Why not... be a dermatologist? My brother-in-law, Chad, he's... got a great little practice in Poughkeepsie. I bet he could use your help.\"\n\nZetzsch rubbed his jutting, reptilian chin with one clawed paw. \"And this... Pow-keep-zee... is it a hellish place, filled with the suffering and wails of the damned, where the true darkness of night reigns supreme, and the malevolent will of the cthonic overlords oppresses all with the heavy weight of half-forgotten tortures?\"\n\n\"It's pretty rough,\" Jim agreed.\n\nZetzsch closed his eyes, and in another flash of oily grey smoke, he appeared in... rough approximation... of a human, with lumpy features, large, paw-like hands, and strangely-slitted eyes. \"How do I look?\" he asked of Jim.\n\n\"Great! I think you'll fit right into Chad's practice.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You were sent on an impossible mission by your boss in the hopes that you would be killed because you have learned something you shouldn't have. When you returned after successfully completing the mission, your boss looked like he saw a ghost." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Inside a dark room sat two people, \"John, we can't stop here. You know as well as I do, this might as well be our last opportunity to hit where it hurts.\" The older man said, his voice authoritative but not forceful.\n\nIn response, the opposite man remained silent. Finally after taking a sip from his drink, he answered, \"Very well.\" and stoop up.\n\nWith his back turned to the older man, he couldn't see his pained face, nor the relief and guilt that would plague it in the weeks to come.\n\nThat man was the boss of one of the up and coming families, having control of a fairly large area and expanding. With an extremely large amount of ground to cover and not enough men, however, he had been forced to make decisions he knew he'd regret.\n\nTo fight the countless families looking to eat up his territory from the inside, he'd been forced to send a lot of good men to their deaths. Funnily enough, seeing evidence of that was the reason he now was sending his best man to his death as well.\n\nIt wouldn't have been that bad if he saw the names of all the idiots that dared to oppose him, but he had to see his father's name on that list, didn't he?\n\nWith a sigh, he added another name to that list, \"John Wick, twenty-sixth of february, year 2015, Mission: Take care of the Brussof Familia\"\n\nWith that out of the way, he moved to the garage, changing cars on the way and finally reaching his home. He was dead tired, but his line of work didn't care if he was tired… Actually no line of work cared about its people nowadays. It used to be different, but over time greed overtook sensibility and those who wanted to remain in the game had to follow along.\n\nThe next few days passed in relative peace, sure a few fights would break here and there, but none had escalated to need his actual intervention, and that was always a good sign. Still, he'd just sent one of his best men to die, so he would need to get the replacements up to speed. It was funny how even an entire team of trained assassins and informants couldn't perform as well as a single man, but he couldn't bring himself to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.\n\nHe knew John wasn't going to survive, the Brussof Familia was a fair bit larger than them, and he'd just sent a single man to fight them alone. To add to that, no Familia survives alone, so who knew how many connections those pigs had… Yet he wished John would prove him wrong.\n\nTime flew like water with no strange incidents, but that made him all the more concerned. He'd ordered his men to follow the situation with Brussof and John closely, he would need to know if John decided to betray him after all. But there was nothing.\n\nA man of John's caliber couldn't be observed from too close, and they were limited in the times they could keep an eye on him, but the man hadn't done a single thing the entire week, leaving his hotel room only once a day where they would quickly lose sight of him. For some reason, he half expected John to go guns blazing and meet his end on the first day. He knew it was unlikely, but at the same time he couldn't see how anyone could tackle the family and realistically expect to succeed.\n\nFinally, the next day he had news about the mission. The news were sitting inside a sealed envelope at the top of his desk, unopened.\n\nHe dreaded reading about his friend's death, yet he had no choice but to accept it and move on. If he wanted to remain in power, he couldn't allow anyone to know of the ending of the previous head.\n\nYet, on the corner of his office, there stood a man, panting a bit, favoring his right leg more and with clothes drenched in blood.\n\n\"Ah, I was waiting to report; mission successful. I wanted to take care only of the Brussof Familia, but more and more annoying rats kept popping up, so I was delayed. I don't know how this works normally, but I suspect there's going to be a power vacuum.\" The man said, his face lit by a bright smile marred only by the blood leaking from his mouth.\n\nThe man noticed the pale face of his boss and was quick to assure him, \"Don't worry sir, most of the blood is not mine. I also didn't leave any hidden threats, I'm not an amateur.\"\n\nSomething was telling him that the envelope wasn't confirming John's death.\n\n\"Yeah, welcome back... by the way, have you heard about the Jakal Familia?\" He asked, pointing at the empty seat for John.\n\n\"Yeah, they were one of the familias that tried to help the Brussof, what about them?\" He froze at the response.\n\n\"... What?\" Unfortunately, he feared this was going to be a common response in this conversation" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You triumph over the conquered Muslims in the East and Catholic Spaniards in the West. Your armies have marched south from Scandinavia announcing the glory of Odin and Thor under you banner... Injured from the last battle you fall sick, with no immediate next of kin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "‘Cursed be the disease. Why would they not let me die with honor. ‘\n\nI try to stand but I have to grab my spear to stand. My hirdmen tries to not notice but they all know what’s going to happen. I’m going to die and not by a sword or spear, no arrow or ax. But I’m dying of an old man’s weakness, yet there are those who whisper its poison. I cough and cover the mouth with my arm, there is blood on it when I remove it.\n\n‘Cursed be the weaklings who could not give me a proper fight. Cursed .. ‘ I chough again, it feels like my lungs are being ripped out of my throat. ‘Cursed be their gods who made them weak. ‘\n\nI look out over them, I have heard some say it’s poison and I may be. But I’m strong still. 65 years old and I can still kill a knight with a single blow. But there is one thing I don’t have. I don’t have a male heir. All my sons are dead and all of my first born son’s children are either dead or woman. I look at my youngest. My daughter, a though bastard like her father. They will never accept her, but there is one other thing they also never will do. My mind is racing.\n\n‘ Cursed be the cowards!’ I sink back in my chair and look around the room. A great hall build for some emperor or pope. I can’t remember anymore. My second wife comes up to me and wants to help me to bed. I wave her away as I again look at my chieftains. They are all warriors, I have killed to many of those who grew lazy and fat to not fight. But I never killed their families and I never executed them, I gave them the honor of one last fight. To regain their worth in a holmgang against me or let their oldest take over. We are not weaklings, Odin wont allow it. But now, I look around. Nobody will do it. It would have been an easy fight and it would give me honor. But they want an heir not a death, they want somebody to bring them glory after me. I look at Ragnar Gunnarsson, my second in command. They would follow him, but he doesn’t want to rule. He knows he will fail and that doubt will destroy the Kingdome. I turn to look at Knut Langurson, he is a good warrior, but to blood thirsty. His anger would get the best of him and he would kill too many of his own allies over slights. My advisor Varg is not trusted enough but the other. Varg Lokison, besides he is older than me. I look at my youngest daughter. She is as competent as booth Ragnar and Knut with leadership and war and smart as Varg. If she only had been born a man.\n\nThe silence in the great hall is almost too much, each accidentally movement is heard over my heavy breathing. I stand up from the gold chair they have given me. And walks down the few steps to my men. I cough and draw my sword.\n\n‘ I will challenge my heir to a duel to the death. My..’ I stop and think, my words must be correct. ‘ My challenger must kill me to get the throne and take my place as ruler. No harm will come to this ‘ I cough again and my daughter and Varg are booth at my arms to help me stand I push them away.\n\n‘ No harm will come to this challenger. Swear to Odin the allfather to follow this degree!”\n\nThere is panic in their eyes, one of them will have to kill me, I’m asking them to kill their father and friend. Ragnar speaks first. ‘ I wish it was not so, but I swear to honor your word. And may your trip to Valhall be a good one.’\n\nRagnar is not as stupid as people think he is, and his words give them the relive they need. I’m not asking them to kill me, I’m asking them to give me the honor to got Valhalla. I see it in their eyes now. They will do this for me.\n\nI listen to the oath fill the hall and up to the dome. I think this will be a great burial mound for me. Loki seems to read my mind and just nods. ‘ As you request. ‘\n\nThen silence fills the room again, now I have to choose my challenger, but that choice was made long time ago. ‘Sonia! Get your blade!’\n\nShe doesn’t even hesitate but draws it quickly and goes to stand in front of me. ‘I wont hesitate grandfather!’\n\nI smile as I swing my sword and ax ‘ And I wont make it easy!’" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: It turns out the dogs were right all along. We should fear thunderstorms, we just didn't know why until now." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ruse and Rile have been cowering under my bed for the last couple of days, their throats seemingly sore from barking and growling almost non-stop. I haven't been able to work since the weekend because the lady I was paying to watch them suddenly couldn't make it. I knew they were afraid of the thunderstorms, but I thought it was just the noise of the thunder. Now I truly know why they would be so afraid. They had more sense than any of us...\n\nThere wasn't a single news station that wasn't talking about it. Hell, there wasn't a single TV station that didn't have the emergency broadcast playing, advising everyone to remain calm and stay in their homes. The most popular were the usual channels with meteorologists, all of which were sitting with \"experts\" and playing a somber game of merry-go-round of questions leading to more questions.\n\nIt wasn't until a few weeks ago, when the thunderstorm came, that people began to worry. At first, it was talk of el nino and unusual weather patterns. Evangelists of global warming condemned the large nations of the world for putting us in this \"time of darkness\". No one had ever seen a thunderstorm last for more than a week straight, especially over such a large portion of landmass. People were beginning to worry by week two.\n\nFinally, a photo went viral over the internet.\n\nWe didn't know what to make of them, personally; when the first cloud-walker was spotted, everyone knew - we knew - it was Photoshop and scifi cooked up by weird internet people who live on online forums. But, somehow, they knew someone caught a glimpse of one of them. There wasn't much to see in the single photo, but as more people began to search the darkness of the thunder heads, lightning flashes exposed something most terrifying and nightmarish.\n\nAt first, it was a long strand of darkness that looked as tho it was choking a cloud. Just barely on the corner of the cloud was a bulbous head, a glowing orb visible in edited versions of the photo. It was this photo that people started making versions of the \"I Want to Believe\" meme that once dominated the internet. Eventually, however, curiosity caused many, both professional researcher and amateur scientist, to send drones into the dark above. Images taken from these probes were frightening beyond anything imaginable.\n\nIt was hard for anyone to get a decent photo. Most of the cards filled up with blurred images that were useless images of the interior of clouds. Except for a couple. The multiple strands that sprawled and crawled throughout the clouds, seemingly gripping them. Dark outlines of unidentifiable objects in the sky, with these tentacles splayed around and about themselves, could be seen.\n\nI needed to take one more look outside, to see if the sun was able to penetrate through at all today. We hadn't seen the light for more than a week, the clouds growing thicker each day. As I stepped outside, Rile and Ruse where howling raspy warnings from inside. A thunder clap rolled across the sky, lasting almost a full minute.\n\nI was used to the thunder, but what came next made my heart stop. There was cold silence...\n\n...then the earth shook." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: The world of the future has been stripped of all natural lands in exchange for \"progress\". People use time travel to go back and experience the nature that they no longer have." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cherry had friends who had travelled back, now and then. Holidays, work outings, romantic trysts. She’d never been, herself. Why bother? If she wanted to look at trees and waterfalls, all she had to do was change the channel on her view screen.\n\nThey gushed and oohed and ahhed but she was unconvinced. If nature was so great, she had asked, why was there none left? It was quite obvious to her that the world got by just fine without it, and so could she.\n\nIn the end, Peaches had simply stared her down and said one little word. Chicken. It had done what so many arguments had failed to do. Cherry bought a ticket on the next shuttle.\n\nAs she sat and waited, she began to grow nervous, grasping her knees with sweaty hands. She was terrified. Peaches had been right on.\n\nCherry was a chicken. No, she was a chicken shit, and that was worse!\n\nShe eyed the clock and wished time would stop, that the shuttle would have some mysterious engine failure, that the world would explode, anything, just so she didn’t have to go.\n\nBut no. The buzzer sounded all too soon and she peeled her trembling body from the seat, tottering along in the crowd and in a moment she found herself in the grimy capsule. As she perched on the threadbare seat, she wondered how long it had been since they’d had a wash. She peered at the flaking polish on her nails, picked at the quick in her thumb until it bled. She told herself she couldn’t hear the whining of the engine, that she couldn’t feel the vibration as the machine readied for its travel through time.\n\nAnd then, it was over. Cherry blinked stupidly, looking around as her fellow passengers stood and filed out into the filtered sunshine. The shuttle prompted her to exit and she staggered to her feet, swallowing hard. Absent-mindedly she raised her hand to her nose, trying to keep out the strange smells assaulting her senses.\n\nThe other passengers were nowhere in sight. The group had five hours in this timeplace before the shuttle departed, and they vanished into this alien place instantly, eager to make the most of their time.\n\nShe knew they were trees, Cherry had seen pictures of ancient forests such as these; they were part of the collection of photos that scrolled across her work screens when she took a break. And yet, Cherry shuddered, peering up into the lush canopy of the rainforest.\n\nSlowly she walked forward until she stood beneath the towering strangler fig, her throat constricted in terror. Why did she have the feeling she was being watched? That the forest was breathing? Her hand shaking, she reached out and touched the snarled trunk of the massive tree.\n\nShe turned, her eyes darting from tree to tree, flower to flower, root to root, leaf to leaf. It was true, all true, everything her friends had ever told her, everything the travel guides had promised and she had never believed.\n\nStumbling in the rotting litter and the hidden roots, Cherry began groping her way through the undergrowth of the rainforest, her entire world changed by the last few minutes." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You're the captain of a starship designed to seek out inhabited worlds and welcome them into an intergalactic alliance. Upon nearing such a planet you pick up a radio signal that your ship translates as one message playing on repeat, \"Stay far. End us.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Well, that’s ominous.” Jim said.\n\nHe fiddled with the radio, trying different frequencies. Just that one message.\n\nStay far. End us.\n\n“You know, I’d really like it if the inhabitants of these dangerous planets just straight-up told us why we need to stay away. ‘Volcano may explode’ or ‘infested with killer aliens’ or something like that.”\n\nHis second-in-command remained silent as the two of them stood watching the planet from the bridge of their starship. Tobias rarely spoke, and Jim had gotten used to having to hold one-sided conversations with himself.\n\nJim looked at the readings as his partner ran a scan. As far as they could see, there was nothing out of the ordinary about the planet. Temperature, air composition, humidity – the planet was definitely suitable for most life. But the scan didn’t pick up a single living creature anywhere aboveground.\n\nTobias finished the scan and glanced over at Jim, who was analysing the collected information.\n\n“I think we should go down.” the former said.\n\nJim turned to face him. “Are you sure? If there’s anything down there, we don’t have weapons or armor to protect the ship or ourselves. Just spacesuits.”\n\n“We’re representing the Space Federation. How are we going to persuade whoever lives here that they should join the alliance if we turn and run from a scary message? We’ll do another scan before we land, in case we missed danger signs earlier.”\n\nJim sighed but began preparing the ship for entrance into a foreign atmosphere. Tobias went into storage to get out their equipment.\n\nThey made their descent carefully, cautiously. Both men were experienced pilots and guided the ship down without any mishaps. They got a better look at the barren, desert-like surface as they neared it. Everything was fine.\n\nThe storm hit.\n\nThe ship was picked up by furious winds, spun around and tossed like a rag doll from side to side. As lights began to glow red all over the control panel and klaxons blared from the ceiling, something heavy slammed into the window, cracking it. Neither of the pilots had time to figure out what it was before the object was thrown aside by the storm and the ship was whirled upside down for the umpteenth time.\n\nJim glanced at their second scan (which was still in progress) as Tobias flicked switches and diverted power to the engines. The sensors for life-forms had gone off the charts – but he couldn’t see a thing through the dust and sand. Gritting his teeth, Tobias gunned the engines into overdrive and they blasted out of what appeared to be some sort of strange tornado, except that it was far larger than any tornado they had ever seen – almost six miles in diameter.\n\nIt was also moving towards them at a terrifying pace.\n\nEvasive manoeuvres didn’t help. The storm seemed to follow them, swirling always closely behind the fleeing starship. Giving up, they jetted away from the planet’s surface altogether, returning to a safe orbit where they were safe from even this abnormal weather.\n\n“How did we not see that monster tornado coming?” Jim pressed a hand to his sweaty forehead.\n\n“I don’t know! It just came out of nowhere – look, the computer log claims not to have sensed a thing until the very moment it hit us!”\n\nAnd when they checked the current status of the storm, it had disappeared.\n\nJim prodded Tobias’ shoulder as they sat in deep thought, jabbing a finger at the results of the second scan.\n\n“The numbers show hundreds - thousands of creatures… but look at this map! There’s absolutely nothing there?”\n\n“How could the ship identify signs of life and not show any life at the same time?”\n\n“Maybe it made a mistake.” Jim suggested.\n\nIn their hearts they both knew that it was not true. If the computer had malfunctioned, they would have known.\n\nThey decided that the strange planet with the freak weather wasn’t worth their fragile lives. Someone watching from outside would have seen the little ship vibrate and turn to face a different direction – then warp forward and disappear in the blink of an eye.\n\nSomeone looking even closer, say with a telescope, right before the ship jumped into hyperspace, might have noticed vents running under the front window. And if that someone had stuck a microscope into the vents and pressed their eyes close and taken a good look, they might have noticed something else:\n\nA handful of particles – no, organisms. Miniscule things deposited there by the storm earlier. Tiny, insect-like creatures invisible to the human eye, but bursting to the seams with an urge to reproduce and infect others with the terrible disease carried in their bite. Already the handful had turned to more than a hundred little scuttling parasites.\n\nInside the vents of the little ship that was heading back to the headquarters of the Space Federation, the little creatures multiplied and waited. Biding their time.\n\nThe message had told the pilots not to come too close." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: It's the second coming, but it isn't Jesus" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Randall rides down on a white cloud in the middle of the day and lands in the center downtown Cleveland.\n\n“I have come again, my children. I am here,” he says.\n\nNo one pays him any attention. Randall is confused but realizes that this is Cleveland, after all. They are not really known for their great wisdom or perception. He steps off the sidewalk and goes to the center of the busy street. He clears his voice, straightens his white flowing toga, and begins again.\n\n“People of the world. You’re savior returns!”\n\n“Go be a savior on the sidewalk, ya jerk,” a man in a passing taxi yells at him.\n\n“Hey, dipshit! You’re going to get hit!” a lady pushing a stroller yells. The child in the stroller gives Randall the finger. This is not going the way he thought it would go.\n\nRandall walks out of the street and begins to try and bring peace to the people as they pass him. They are dressed in business suits and dresses, young and old, races of all kinds. And none of them, not a one, pays attention to Randall.\n\nHe tries again, for he is the son of God and he is returned.\n\n“Um, excuse me,” he says to a young man exiting a building. “I’m the son of God. I’m here to grant you salvation.”\n\nThe man looks at Randall with a bored expression. “Yeah, I’m good,” he says.\n\n“But I’m the son of God! Don’t you want salvation?”\n\n“I’ve got it. Thanks.” He pushes past Randall and continues about his day.\n\nRandall slumps against the side of the building, not really sure what is going on. Several thousand years ago he died for these peoples sins. Now he is returned to once again bring the Glory to the masses. Dad sacrificed him for those sins. Randall expected a better reception, even in Cleveland of all places.\n\nA lady puts a quarter in his opened hand and gives him a half eaten sandwich.\n\n“Wait!” he yells at her. “Wait!”\n\nWith an exasperated look, she turns around and walks backward.\n\n“It’s all I’ve got, sorry!” she says.\n\n“No, wait. That’s not it. I don’t understand. I’m am Randall, son of God, and I have returned. I flew down on a cloud. Didn’t you see that? It was a freaking cloud!”\n\n“Yeah,” the woman says. “I saw it.”\n\n“Aren’t you amazed?”\n\n“Well, it’s been done. A lot, actually. Haven’t you been paying attention?”\n\n“Sometimes,” Randall says. Heaven can be a very distracting place. There’s food, lots of virgin sex, good times. Randall has to admit to himself that maybe he hasn’t been paying attention.\n\n“Yeah, the cloud thing was cool the first time. But you see it a couple of hundred times and well, it kinda gets old.”\n\n“Hundred times?”\n\n“Maybe thousands. Honestly, we don’t keep count anymore.”\n\n“But I’m the son of God!”\n\n“Turns out, there are a lot of sons of God.”\n\n“Really?” asks Randall.\n\n“Yup. Your dad seemed to get around, if you know what I mean.”\n\n“Wait? You’re calling God…”\n\n“Yeah,” she says.\n\n“A man whore?”\n\n“Bingo! We’re all salvationed up, thanks very much. If you go down to 23rd, they have a shelter for all of you. A social worker will help you acclimate. Maybe find you a job,” she says.\n\n“But I have a job! I don’t need a new one.”\n\n“That’s what you all say and honestly, you’re beginning to be a drag on the system. There’s no shame in working for a living,” the woman says and is gone around the corner.\n\nRandall follows the directions the lady gave him to the shelter and steps inside. He sees hundreds of people dressed just like he is. Flowing togas, perfect skin, a thousand dollar smile.\n\n“Hey, a new guy! Hi, I’m Racheal,” a woman says to him. Her toga is a bit faded, the white a bit besmirched. Randall shakes her hand.\n\n“Lots of questions, yeah?” she asks.\n\n“Yes. I don’t…” Randall can’t get the last words out.\n\n“Ah, I know. I was like that, too, at first. So was Phil, and Jesus, and Carl. We all were. But just because Dad kicked you out of the house doesn’t mean you are worthless. And it doesn’t mean you are alone.”\n\n“Where did all these people come from?”\n\n“Oh boy, a brand brand new one. Ok, here’s the deal. Way back when, Dad had a bit of a commitment problem. I know, no one likes to hear this about their father, but he’s my dad, too. Anyway, he had a bunch of children and didn’t tell anyone else. He wanted us to all feel special to him, to be his guy or gal, as the case may be. What did Dad tell you before he sent you down?”\n\n“He said to go and…”\n\n“What did he really tell you? Remember, I’ve been there.”\n\n“He said ‘Get Out’. Kinda yelled it really. Said something about my deadbeat friends and eating all the food. He says that I can’t live in the attic anymore.” Randall started crying.\n\n“There, there,” Racheal says. “He said the same to me. Except he thought that my boyfriend wasn’t very cool. But Brett and his band will make it one day, you just wait. That’s what I told him.”\n\n“Ok,” Randall says.\n\n“Let’s get you checked in and started on some paperwork.”\n\nAnd outside, another cloud began descending from the heavens." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You are a new class of Clergy in these modern times. Sea Monsters don’t sink ships as often due to superior weaponry. However, this attracts unholy stowaways onboard. It’s your job to find and kill them" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Father Terrance leaned over the fallen man, muttering a blessing to save his eternal soul. Cannonballs rocked the ship. They crunched into the wood of the hull with thunderous booms, sending sprays of debris high into the air, some of it cascading down over the priest's head. The Vigilant's own cannons quickly cracked to life with an answering volley. As crewman scrambled about frenetically, adjusting sails, manning the massive guns and repairing what damage they could, Father Terrance reached down and closed the eyes of the now dead sailor. Blood still pumped around the shrapnel stuck in his neck.\n\n\"Father!\" called one of the crew.\n\nThe approaching man lurched sideways as the ship swung around for a broadside volley. Behind him in the distance Father Terrance could see the three smaller ships prowling in the waves, circling them like sharks.\n\n\"Yes, my son?\" Father Terrance found it helpful to remain calm amidst the madness of battle.\n\n\"Captain says we got a stowaway,\" the man said, breathless. \"Something is affecting our aim. She wants you to find it and kill it.\"\n\n\"Cleanse it,\" the priest corrected. \"Of course.\"\n\nAmong the shouted curses, violent splashes and explosions of battle, Father Terrance made his way below deck. As he climbed down a ladder into the ships interior the sounds grew more distant, as if the chaos was a half remembered dream. He passed the infirmary. Crew lay strewn on cots, moaning and writhing from illness or injury, without a doc to tend to them. She was busy above. Father Terrance felt himself pulled to them, perhaps he could ease their suffering, but he denied himself.\n\nIf he did not cleanse the ship they were all doomed.\n\nPulling the cross from beneath his coat, he sent a silent prayer up to the Lord. As always, the prayer was swiftly answered. Without thought he simply moved, his legs carrying him in the direction the Lord compelled, towards the mess hall. No other souls wandered the belly of the ship. All hands on deck had been declared for this fight, and so when Father Terrance peered into the doorway of the mess he knew the cook would be absent. He found something else instead.\n\nEver since the invention of the exploding cannonball, the leviathans, megasharks, and giant squids roaming the waves had troubled ships like the Vigilant much less. These creatures had learned to avoid them. There had been an unintended consequence of this relative safety through the sea, however. Unwanted passengers could use the ships as a shield to travel across the waters.\n\nThe demon stood with its back to him, rifling through the pantry and throwing foodstuffs over its shoulder onto the floor. It stood four feet tall, it's body thin and spiky like spider's legs, its hands and feet tipped with curving claws. It must have felt his presence just as the priest felt its foul aura. It turned.\n\n\"Man of God,\" it said, face splitting in half to reveal a mob of needle teeth. \"Leave me be. I will disturb you not.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid I cannot do that. Your vile presence is affecting our luck, you see, so I must send you back to hell. You understand.\"\n\nWith a snarling hiss the demon hurled itself across the room toward the priest, arms outstretched like a strangler going for a neck. Father Terrance muttered a prayer of exorcism and crossed his fingers before his chest. When the creature was nearly upon him light flashed and a chime sounded, as though a bell had been struck, and the demon was blasted backward as if slammed by a massive hammer. As the thing sat up a reddish-black, cross shaped scar sizzled across its sinewy body.\n\n\"I banish you,\" said the priest.\n\nHolding his hand to the demon, palm out, the priest muttered a prayer and a great gust of wind roared across the room. The demon screamed. Like a sculpture of sand eroding in the sea breeze, the creature simply blew away into nothing.\n\nSmiling, the priest lowered his head.\n\n\"Amen.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You have been haunted by a demon for the past 10 years, but you have never noticed. Your chihuahua, Pogo, has been chasing the demon away for years. Pogo is on his death bed now, barely able to move. As you sit next to him crying, he is desperately trying to get you to look behind you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A young man named James sits in his bedroom, his face covered in tears. James is watching his best friend of 10 years breath his last breaths. His heart is truly breaking. James is doing all he can to comfort his friend but there isn’t much time left. “Pogo buddy, I am going to miss you”, James speaks as he gently rubs Pogo’s face and scratches behind his ears.\n\n“You were always such a yappy dog, event for a chihuahua. You would always be barking at the closets, under the bed, at the windows, and I cannot even count the number of nights I would wake up with you sitting on my chest barking at nothing. I am going to miss it all so much. I am going to miss you so much Pogo.” Sobs come out of James and he spills his heart out to his loyal dog.\n\n“It’s Ok though you can rest buddy, you’ve done your job. Believe me when I tell you that you were not just a good boy Pogo, you were the best boy… but now its time for you to rest, you’ve earned it buddy, you’ve earned it.” James continues as he gently lays his head on Pogo’s chest while still rubbing his ears in a hope that this will give Pogo the comfort he needs to pass.\n\nJames is feeling quite horrible right now. He has known for a while that Pogo was sick and in pain. He thought about having him put down to spare him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. James felt like he was such a coward for making his best friend go through this. Now Pogo is sitting here whimpering and sobbing while laying on his death pillow.\n\nThere is another part to this exchange that James is oblivious to. Pogo is not whimpering because he is in pain or because he is afraid of dying. He is whimpering because he is scared that his best friend is in danger. Ever since Pogo can remember a dark ominous figure has been trying to attack James. Pogo has no idea what this monster is, but he knows it wants to hurt James. Pogo has prided himself for many years by chasing this monster off whenever it would show its face.\n\nThe monster would regularly hide in James closet, under his bed and stare at James through the windows of their home at night. The monster would be extra bold while James slept. It would regularly try to float above James as he slept but Pogo would always chase him away.\n\nAt this moment as Pogo is nearing death and his best friend is hugging and petting him, the monster is standing right behind James. Pogo is terrified, he is too weak to chase the monster away. He is even to weak to bark to warn James of the danger. Pogo knows he can’t hold out much longer, but as long as he holds on, he knows the monster will not dare touch James. So he struggles to stay awake and to keep James safe.\n\nPogo is desperate, he does not know what to do. All he has the strength to do is move his paw, his eyes and make some noises to alert James, but James is not understanding.\n\nJust when Pogo was feeling his most desperate he hears the doorbell ring. Instantly the monsters slinks back into the closet behind James, and James darts his head towards the front door. Pogo is relieved. He knows the monster only shows itself when James and him are alone, but he knows that whoever is at the door wont stay long and then James will be in danger again.\n\nJames yells, “Come in” and the door opens. A few moments later James’s girlfriend Natalie walks into the room where James and Pogo are sitting. She has a small box under her arm and she gives Pogo as sad looking face. Pogo likes Natalie, she is Pogo’s second favorite person, so seeing her made him feel a bit of relief but it was short lived.\n\nJames, once done acknowledging Natalie looks back to Pogo with a pained smile on his face and says, “I know why you are holding on Pogo. You are afraid to leave me alone, aren’t you buddy. It’s ok though Pogo, I am not going to be alone. I have Natalie and I have…” James pauses.\n\nHe rubs Pogo’s face again, then motions to Natalie to hand him the box. James Opens the box and pulls out a baby chihuahua and sets it in front of Pogo. “See buddy, you aren’t leaving me alone. I am sure this guy will protect me just as good as you have. It’s ok, I will be ok, you can go to sleep buddy”.\n\nPogo see’s the baby and swells with hope. James might have another guardian; James might be safe. Pogo is worried though, it takes a brave kind of dog to chase monsters, and this thing is just a baby. Will he be brave enough to face the monster?\n\nJust as Pogo was having all these conflicting thoughts run through his head, he see’s the ears on the baby pop up. The baby jerks his head towards the closet and starts barking frantically. Right as this happens Pogo hears a frustrated grunt come from the closet and he feels that the monster has left again.\n\nJames and Natalie both hear the grunt from the closet and see the baby barking in the same direction. “What was that”, Natalie asks? “I don’t know, probably the pipes. This old house is always making weird noises”, he replied.\n\nPogo felt and overwhelming joy enter his heart when he saw what just happened. He knew James would be safe. He stopped whimpering and James looked back at Pogo. Pogo licked James’s hand, used his last bit of strength to wag his tail, then he closed his eyes.\n\n\n(I am not a natural writer, and am not very good at it. If the grammar and inflection are terrible... Sorry, just trying it out)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A man wakes up in a hospital with has no identification on him. The police run a Missing Persons search on him. Several entries show up, each several decades apart." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "2015, 2005, 1995, 1985. I could go back to earlier times but I don’t bother. The mission is always the same.\n\nI’ve spoken to the Motahank Police Department under the guise of a Federal Agent. They bought into it and provided me with the data I’ve needed. The John Doe we looked at has gone by different names in the past and has set up families, jobs, and lives before dropping out of sight every 10 years or so.\n\nWe learned years ago that we can’t kill him, at least not permanently. I personally took care of him after the 2005 re-emergence and did the job as required of me. It needed to be one clean stroke at the base of the neck. This was the only way to ensure he would sleep and wake up with no memory. The machete I used was iron made and dipped in salt. It rusted out a few years back, but thankfully I’ve procured a new one.\n\nThis time around, my John Doe woke up in the middle of the woods with no recollection (which means I succeeded 10 or so years ago), and ran around shod and barefoot until being hit by a truck. He’s been in the hospital for about 2 days by now. He should be back in action in a couple of days so I needed to act fast.\n\nWalking through the hospital, it’s a flurry of flashed badges and nodding heads as I approach his room. I didn’t want to arouse suspicion so I told the Motahank PD that there was no threat and that my office would take control of the situation. I’m surprised as I walk into his room.\n\n“Wondering when you’d come,” speaks a voice from the corner of the room. My John Doe is lying down in bed, this was someone else. He was an unremarkable man clothed in a black suit and pea coat. He could be like me for all I know.\n\n“You are?” I ask.\n\n“No one you know yet,” he replies. “But that’s okay.” He rises and walks over to the bed. I reach my hand for my holstered gun. He notices: “That’s not necessary now.” He waves his hand down to me.\n\n“There’s a purpose to this. I have to do this.” I say.\n\n“You don’t know as much as you think,” he says. “There are 4 houses you know.”\n\n“Yes and my house requires his punishment,” I reply.\n\n“You’re so disconnected from the top aren’t you? Has it been that long since we’ve been here?” He says. He appears to be rising above my, growing in size as he talks. Absolute silence follows after.\n\nIt hits me like a bag of bricks and I back away towards the wall. I’ve been employed by the absent House of Life for years now. He’s not of my house. He’s not of the House of Death either; he is the House of Death.\n\n“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” I bow.\n\n“Some servant you are,” he laughs.\n\nIn a flash he disappears with my John Doe. I’m breathless as his kind hasn’t touched our earth in over a millennium. Then it hits me. My legs give out first and I slouch down. My heart stops beating and I fall over. The House of Life loses another servant." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You've been sentenced to an eternity in hell. Believing there's been a mistake you decide to appeal your case and heaven assigns you a lawyer." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What many do not understand is how cold Heaven is. In comparison to the heat of hell I was feeling as if I had to freeze to death. I had only those strange tattered greasy rags on my body, which they reserve for sinners like me.\n\nIn front of me stood a silvery double door which was at least 3 stories tall. My general surroundings weren't much to look at either. Roman columns, floors and walls that looked like polished white marble. That is, until someone took a closer look and recognized the black lines to be the borders of clouds.\n\nThere was nothing else to do but to wrap my arms around my body and shiver.\n\nSomeone cleared his throat beside me. It was a middle aged man dressed in a mouse grey suite. He was noticeable void of any extreme colors. His shirt appeared white but was almost imperceptible light gray. His hair was a dark grey shade as were his eyes. He didn't look dead but I couldn't tell if his skin had a proper skin color or if my eyes played a trick on me.\n\n\"You are Mr. Sinner?\" he asked and did not hide how he took measure of me. \"Yes. Yes, that is me. I think. Well, there is no one else. So it must be me, Mr?\" I stuttered with Lips that began to turn blue.\n\n\"Well, I'm the Devils Advocate. I know it sounds quite archaic. In reality, I'm on no ones side.\" was his answer. I nodded and added to my question: \"Mr. Devils Advocate then. You are not on anyone's side? I thought you were my defender?\" The pursing of his lips and short confused gaze told me he hadn't thought about this and replied: \"Yes. That is true. But Heavenly Courts do not work the same as on the material planes.\"\n\nMy desperate mood wasn't bettered by this information at all. He released a grey manila folder from the clasp of his upper arm against his torso and stared at it for a second. Mr. Devils Advocate pointed at the space beside where I was sitting: \"May I?\". I nodded and he sat down after tugging on each of his trouser legs, revealing grey socks in grey shoes. He held the manila folder in front of him then came to an conclusion, which he commented with a short nod. I used this short time to examine the folder. There was a white square stapled to the right upper corner. Beneath it was a wide dark grey line under a field that looked like there should be something written on it. Opening the folder he revealed that it was as empty as the white frame and the line. I was only able to look at it and him in confusion.\n\n\"You see, Problem is. Well.\" he swallowed: \"You don't exist any longer. Someone made a Mistake. It does not happen often but. Well.\"\n\n\"I don't exist?\" I heard myself ask: \"Then why am I in Hell?\"\n\nMr. Devils Advocate drew his lips upward into a thin but not humorous facsimile of a smile and explained: \"Well, there are clear rules how to enter Heaven. Everything else defaults to Hell. I fear.\"\n\nMy Head slumped in defeat as the Implications became quite clear: \"That also means I won't ever get out. Because no one knows when my Torture needs to end.\" He nodded and I asked: \"Why is there even a Hell and Heaven?\" The Man in the Grey Suit wasn't prepared to enter a meaningful theological discussion but replied without hesitation: \"Because for most of your life you thought it would be like this. Even if just unconscious. This is how it was agreed to be long ago.\"\n\nAccepting my demise, I raised from the Bench I found myself sitting on. Turned to Mr. Devils Advocate and sighed: \"Well, if I brought myself into this. I'm sorry to have bothered anyone. Where do I have to go?\" There was a moment of silence as he locked his gaze with my sad defeated eyes. He padded his thighs once and stood up: \"Well, you have to go back. Obviously. No sense In letting you wait. Or your mother.\" \"My M?\" is everything I could stammer before there was suddenly nothing. And then there was everything.\n\nIn a cold hall of hard clouds a grey man shaped himself back to what it truly was. A caring smile filled what was recognizable as a face. In the distance of a grey void a small voice sounded. It cried, because that was all that it could do. The entity that was watching saw how expectation and love felt between the clouds. And even though the small person he was watching could not yet understand the words, the entity knew what it was. An exhausted and hurting mother, crying out of pain and happiness. Holding her newborn child for the first time. The warm embrace of a young family.\n\nThen there were many like it and there was conversation.\n\n\"I can't decide if it was cruel or caring.\", \"It was cruel to make him suffer.\", \"It was Just. There must be Judgment.\", \"But we are not Judges, we are companions.\" The entity that spoke to what I was before said to himself: \"We are but the ferryman.\" it smiled in introversion, then added: \"We are taking them where they think they are going to, when they are never going anywhere again.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Succubi Cumpetition" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This years Grand Tournament was outstanding. The stands had never been so packed, they would talk about the opening ceremony for years to come. Thirteen incubi riding motorcycles had rode in formation, with chained satyrs in tow. The great torch had been extinguished when each of the contestants stepped forwards to take hold of their chosen satyr and milk their throbbing erections to orgasm into the flames.\n\nSam, Phil, and Barb were watching the escapades unfold, from their favorite bar. Sammael was the oldest of the sullen succubi trio. Philotanus considered this irrelevant, as she was much taller than Sam. Barbas busied herself with some mortal device she’d stolen and did her best not to succumb to the squabbling.\n\n“If I was there, there wouldn’t even be a competition. Anyone can milk a cock, I bet none of these teams even have a halfway decent edging schedule!” Sam declared, as she downed half of her beer.\n\n“You act like the whole game is edging. I bet you can’t even name one supplement.” Phil contested as she waved her hand for another round. “And besides that, you suck at hand-jobs.”\n\n“What?!” Sam asked, incensed. “Get yours out right here; I’ll have ya gushing in under two minutes.”\n\n“You wish.” Phil scoffed. “What are you going to do, just whip your hand up and down? You have no subtlety.”\n\n“Fuck you! I have a technique, it’s all in how you handle the balls.” Sam retorted.\n\n“I don’t have balls, stupid.” Phil punctuated her insult by flicking her fellow succubi in the nipple. Sam’s maille bikini jingled.\n\n“Would you two cut it out!” Barb ordered, exasperated.\n\n“What, are you trying to watch these fucking hacks at work?” Sam replied, gesturing at the television..\n\n“Yeah, who wants to see those hacks fuck anyway, we should change it.” Phil agreed.\n\n“Give me a break, you both know as well as I do that the competition wouldn’t be worth seeing, as soon as we got denied entry.” Barb said, sullenly.\n\n“We would have topped last year.” Phil said, taking up her fresh drink.\n\n“No we wouldn’t have.” Barb announced. “I would have. You two both go all handsie on the shaft and balls, just leave the bowl on the ground. Fucking amateurs.”\n\nFlabbergasted and furious, Sam and Phil began to bombard Barb with retorts.\n\n“Listen, listen! What you two should have learned in high school, is to bend them over, hold the bowl in your hands from behind them, and get to their prostate with your tongue.” Barbas loosed her bright purple and two foot long tongue from her mouth to finalize her point.\n\n“Put him on his back, make him hold the bowl, and use your dick!” Phil shouted.\n\n“Ladies hi, I’ve been asked by my manager to see if everything’s alright over here?” One of the waitstaff asked timidly.\n\n“How much can you come, Apron-boy?” Sam asked the waiter as she sized him up.\n\n“I- uhm... “ He shot a glance back to his manager's office, the door was closed. “You’re being a little loud, for in the main room.”\n\n“There’s private rooms here?”Phil asked, surprised.\n\n“We’ve been coming here for centuries, how did nobody tell us there are private rooms?” Barb added.\n\n“How much for a private room?” Sammael asked the trembling waiter.\n\nThe waiter gritted his teeth, found his knees coming together slightly, and reminded himself desperately of how well these three tended to tip; as he produced the price sheet. The trio of succubi began to sport evil grins as they looked it, and him over." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A tragedy that ends with the main character finding $20" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was Frank's fault. It was always his fault. Yesterday it was something as simple as an apple, and today it would be just as simple. He just didn't know it yet.\n\nFrank's alarm clock went off at exactly 6:03 on this morning, as it did every morning. He liked it that way. He got out of bed, put a pot of coffee on, and put his toast in the toaster before hopping in the shower for exactly four minutes.\n\nAfter the shower, Frank dressed himself, combed what was left of his hair, and fetched the paper. It was a beautiful morning, full of sunshine with a light breeze claiming that fall was just around the corner. The leaves swirled in little eddies around the trees and cars on the block.\n\nFrank grimaced as he walked back inside, knowing that he would be glaring into the sun on his way to the bus stop. He ate, brushed his teeth, and tucked his unread paper under his arm. He exited his house, and pulled his keys out of his pocket.\n\nLittle did Frank know that pulling his keys out of his pocket had also let loose the $20 bill he had put in there for lunch. It fell listlessly to the ground, then was caught by the light breeze and blown out of sight.\n\nThe $20 did not have feelings or a conscience, but if it did, it would have enjoyed being free of the confines of Frank's slacks. It swirled around with the fall leaves, moving around trees, dodging cars and following Frank a short distance behind him.\n\nFrank sat at the bus stop, easing himself onto the uncomfortable bench. The unnoticed $20 snagged a stick in the gutter four feet in front of Frank and fluttered weakly, while Frank snapped open his paper.\n\n\"Can I have that seat please?\" came a small voice from the right. Frank looked him up and down. It was one of those sickly kids that was always walking past Frank's house. Currently, the kid was on crutches and hobbling on what seemed to be a broken leg.\n\n\"No\", said Frank dismissively. The kid sighed as Frank snapped open his paper again, turning the page a bit more violently than was necessary.\n\nIt was at that exact moment that the fluttering $20 was able to release itself. The boy caught sight of it out of the corner of his eye and let out an excited gasp. What a treasure for one so young!\n\nFrank looked up and saw it all happen in slow motion. The boy hobbled six feet to the right of the bus stop and reached out to try and catch the elusive $20 bill. Time slowed and the boy missed, but his crutch caught against a large crack in the sidewalk. He stumbled, and his face turned from one of delight to one of surprise.\n\nThe boy stood no chance against the car heading straight for him, and the driver of the car had no chance to stop so suddenly. With a squeal of tires and a sickening sound of something very hard hitting something very soft, time resumed it's normal course.\n\nFrank was in a daze as he walked over to the scene. Others were already dialing 911, so Frank moved towards the boy. The boy was most definitely dead, and Frank could barely hear the driver screaming incoherently. Everything was a blur.\n\nEverything except the weakly fluttering $20 bill. Frank saw it pushed into the grille of the vehicle, and picked it up. He realized, and checked his pocket. No bill in the pocket, it was his own. Written on the bill was a note: \"Use for a fun night out,\" from the card that he had received last week.\n\nIt was Frank's fault. It was always his fault." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: The country you are staying in declares all-out war on the country that you are from." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The spoonful of cheerios dropped and splashed into the bowl. Splotches of milk splattered against Joe’s white business shirt as he watched the television. He was appalled, frozen in a gaze at the box of televised light in front of him. He sat in his hotel room in his boxers, wife beater undershirt and white dress shirt. His slacks, tie, and sports coat were laid out neatly on the second full sized bed in his hotel room.\n\nHe always booked the double bed rooms instead of a single king. He liked having that second bed as a sort of staging zone to set everything up.\n\n“Breaking news: Canada has declared all out war on the United States.” The headline rolled across the screen.\n\nIt was a routine business trip to Toronto. This had to be a joke. He was a sales representative from a paper company. This couldn’t be real.\n\nHe fumbled around for a minute, forgetting where he had placed his iphone. Then he found it. He opened up that app with world news on it. His jaw dropped as he flipped through the headlines:\n\n“Canadian troops advance through North Dakota, B-52’s are scrambled from Minot AFB base to prevent takeover.”\n\n“Canadian F-18s strike key targets in Minneapolis.”\n\nJoe hops up quickly and runs to the door. He slides the chain into position to prevent housekeeping from gaining access. “What the fuck is that going to do?” he thinks to himself.\n\nThen he rushes to the window. He had drawn the curtains shut when he was asleep. He pokes two fingers through and opens a small slit to peer out into the city from his highrise hotel room.\n\nIt looked completely normal. People going to work. It was about 8:00am local. He didn’t know what he expected to see. He closed the gap he’d made in the curtains abruptly and turned around scanning his room.\n\nHis sports coat, tie, and slacks were where he had left them. Nice and neat on the second, untouched double bed. His laptop had already been placed in his suitcase.\n\nHe grabbed his iphone charger, and threw it in the suitcase as well. “Fuck, can’t forget that” he thought to himself. Then he thought, “what the fuck are you doing” as he realized he had no idea what he was doing.\n\nHe scuttled towards the door and squinted out the peephole. No one was in the hallway.\n\n“This seriously can’t be happening” he checked his iphone’s app again.\n\n“President of the United States issues stern warning to Canadian officials. DEFCON 1 measures are placed into effect.”\n\n“F-f-f-uck!” he whispers to himself.\n\nHe starts pacing back and forth in his hotel room. He thinks about the business conference he was about to attend. The people there knew his name, but not much else. His company had merely sent him north to find potential customers. They didn’t know where he was staying, and if he didn’t show up they would probably understand. Given that he was a U.S. citizen in a country that was openly at war with the United States.\n\n“I’ve got to get the fuck out of dodge” Joe said quietly to himself. He went back to the window and peered out at Lake Ontario. “If I can just get a boat…” he thought to himself.\n\n“No, that’s fucking retarded” he quickly snapped back at himself.\n\nA quick double tap echoed from his hotel door. The words “house keeping” followed. It sounded like an older woman.\n\nA bead of sweat formed on Joe’s temple, he panicked. “Uh.. uh… no thank you… uh… I’m busy right now!”\n\nThere was a silence that seemed to last forever. Then he heard some footsteps move away from his door along with the sound of a squeaky wheel. Probably from one of those carts full of towels.\n\nAfter a few minutes he calmed himself and hastily got dressed. He packed up the remainder of his belongings and stepped to the peephole on his door. His suitcase was in his left hand. His right hand rested on the chain that was locked against the door. He peered outside and couldn’t see anyone.\n\n“Here goes nothing,” he thought to himself as he slid the chain loose from the door. He reached down and opened the handle with his right hand. He stepped confidently out into the hall, looking left and right. The cleaning lady was a few doors down from him making her rounds. He quickly glanced away and avoided eye contact as he walked to the elevator.\n\nHe pressed the “down” arrow and waited for what seemed like an eternity before the door opened. When it opened there was a young blonde woman in her late twenties staring back at him. She was nicely dressed in a business suit.\n\nHe stepped into the elevator, turned around to press the “Lobby” button and noticed it was already highlighted. Of course it was, she had to be going to the lobby as well.\n\nHe felt nervous for a second and then stepped back against the elevator wall. He tried desperately to not look suspicious.\n\n“Why the fuck did Canada declare war on the United States?” he thought to himself. His suitcase handle felt slimy in his clammy hands. The woman next to him glanced over at him and smirked politely. He nodded back.\n\nThe floors counted down with a “ding” as they passed each one. Then he felt the elevator start to decelerate. It was too early to be stopping for the lobby.\n\nThey had reached the 11th floor when the door opened up. This time a Canadian soldier stepped into the elevator. He eyed Joe suspiciously.\n\n“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Joe thought to himself as he tried desperately to remain calm. The soldier turned around in front of him and the woman and stared at the elevator door as it closed and they began to lurch down again towards the lobby.\n\n-Ding-, -Ding-, -Ding-, the floors counted down as they passed them. Then they finally arrived. Joe stepped out into the lobby. It’s marble floors stretched out in front of him. The check-in counter was on the far left, and clear glass doors lead out to the street. Joe strolled confidently, as best he could, past the check-in counter and into the street.\n\nPeople outside were frantic. It had appeared normal to him from his hotel room, but that’s because he was so far away. He heard the low growl of military jets somewhere above, everyone looked nervous. People in their cars looked left and right with beady eyes.\n\n“Just get to your fucking car.” Joe willed to himself." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: The princess rescues a baby lizard from a garden fountain, only to realize that it’s a dragon hatchling." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The hem of her long dark purple\n\ndress brushed over the small pebbles that made up the paved paths of the\n\ngarden. She attempted a few deep breaths as she tired in the heat, but the\n\ntight uncomfortable bodice limited them to short gasps. The princess collapsed\n\nonto a nearby stone bench between two manicured peony bushes. Her handmaid unwrapped\n\nher white headscarf and began to make a futile effort in waving it at the\n\nprincess.\n\n“Liz, would you stop that.”\n\n“Yes Miss, I was just trying to help.” The maid stuffed the\n\nsquare piece of fabric into her apron rather than tying it back around her\n\nhead. “Perhaps you might find a bit more relief in the shade of the walls.”\n\nThe princess rose and walked towards the wall. The moist lush\n\ngrass brushing against her ankles as she moved away from the path. Reaching the\n\nedge of the garden, she slid down the stone wall to the ground.\n\n“Miss, your dress, it’ll stain.” Elizabeth cried running\n\nafter her.\n\n“Oh, forget the dress. It’s too tight anyways. You should\n\ntake it; it would fit you better.” She let the cool stone suck the heat from her\n\nback as she watched Liz pace back and forth in front of her. “Would you sit,\n\nplease?”\n\n“Sorry, Mistress Catherine. I can’t help it; I worry what\n\nsomeone should say, if a member of the court should happen to see.”\n\n“Don’t worry so much Liz. The court is deciding on my\n\nfuture betrothed. Such an important discussion will take days of argument.” It\n\nfelt like little drops of moisture on the back of her hand. Startled, she\n\nlifted her palm off the ground to see the small lime green lizard trapped so\n\nfar from the ground. The small thing’s forked tongue shot out from its mouth\n\ntasting the air and her skin. She smiled as it tilted its head to look at her\n\nwith its beady black eyes.\n\n“Oh, disgusting. This is what happens when you lay in the\n\nground. Let me get that for you.”\n\nCatherine pulled her hand and the lizard away from Elizabeth’s\n\nclutches. The lizard ran up her sleeve to her shoulder. The princess reached up\n\nto rub under its head with her finger. “Oh, he’s fine. This little guy wouldn’t\n\nhurt me even if he could.”\n\n“We should go inside. I’m sure, the King will want you to\n\nbe present when the decide on your future husband.”\n\n“Oh Liz, I’m sure my father doesn’t care about seeing me\n\nwhen he makes his decision. As long as, I arrive for the wedding and secure\n\nwhatever alliance he’s negotiated. You are right though we should go inside to\n\nthe kitchen. I’m sure Sir Scales is starving.”\n\n \n\nThe lizard grew fast over the next few months. It’s green\n\nscales turning a deep iridescent shade of blue as it matured. When it reached\n\nthe height of the princess’s knee, small knots formed on its shoulders. Catherine\n\nwas worried it might be sick, looking into the creature’s glossy black eyes. She\n\ncouldn’t let her father know she had kept the pet he was wrapped up in peace\n\ntalks with a neighboring kingdom. So, she was unable to get it help. At least\n\nit still ate voraciously.\n\n \n\nOne morning, Sir Scales curled up against her as she lay in\n\nbed late into the morning scratching him beneath his jaw. Liz rushed into the room\n\nthe deep purple of her dress shining in the sun from the window. “Quick, quick,\n\nThe King has requested your presence.”\n\n“Oh, has he finally made a decision?” Catherine replied not\n\nmoving from the warmth of her scaled companion.\n\nCatherine and Liz entered the great hall of the castle,\n\nsurprised to see a messenger draped in the banner of Lard Allen. The King in\n\nhis cream garments and gold cape waited for the two to walk past the assembled\n\ncourt to arrive at his feet before the raised throne platform. “Daughter, we\n\nhave received unfortunate news. Lord Allen’s wife has fallen gravely ill.”\n\n“Oh, I’m so sorry. Your whole kingdom must be very distraught.”\n\nThe princess said turning to the messenger.\n\nThe young boy looked surprised. “Yes mistress. We are all overly\n\nconcerned for her well-being.”\n\nThe King raised his voice in proclamation. “Some good may\n\ncome of this ill news, though. Lord Allen has agreed to take you as his new\n\nbride and join our kingdoms so that we all may gain new levels of prosperity.”\n\n“He’s as old as you are father!” She blurted.\n\n“Yes, but his poor Queen has failed to produce any heirs.\n\nYour future son will inherit both kingdoms when he comes of age.”\n\n“She isn’t even dead yet, and you’re already planning for\n\nour offspring.”\n\nThe messenger looked quite nervous and kept his head down\n\nas he dared to interrupt. “Do not worry, mistress the doctors have assured us,\n\nshe will pass very soon.”\n\nThe King’s anger came through as his normal full-throated\n\nvoice turned into a shout. “You will marry Lord Allen in the fall, after he\n\ntakes the appropriate amount of time to mourn his wife. And that is final.”\n\n \n\nThe two knots on Sir Scales’ shoulders grew out like horns\n\nat first but then joints and webbing started to form. She realized they were\n\nwings and started to leave her window open to let him fly out at night. Princess\n\nCatherine realized her pet’s nature first. Liz worried she might catch a cold\n\nfrom the draft and kept a fire going in the hearth despite the late summer\n\nwarmth. The two women were both amazed to see Sir Scales climb into the blaze.\n\nHis bulk didn’t smother the logs but instead the flames rose higher around him.\n\nIt took witnessing smoke pouring from his nostrils for Liz to finally exclaim, “It’s\n\na bloody dragon.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: You're a superheroine who's ability is to duplicate yourself, fighting crime as an army of one! Today though, your superhero squad is giving you relentless shit for deciding to literally date yourself." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“There's so many things wrong with this I don't know where to start.”\n\nEveryone else nodded along, bringing their attention to bear at me. “So? Last I checked, none of you asked me when you started dating someone.”\n\nSarah stepped a bit closer, armed with a condescending smile. “Violet, honey, none of us tried to date ourselves.”\n\n“I'm not either. Lavender is entirely not me. Look, I'm here and she's over there.” From behind me, Lavender waved.\n\n“Oh sweetie,” Sarah said, getting her eyebrows involved in the assault. “She's not someone else. No matter what you say, she's still you, she's still your duplicate. Nothin' can change that, ya hear?”\n\nThe nods came out in full force, accompanied by looks of deep concern. “So what? She can think and act for herself.”\n\n“But, she's… you. Or, your twin. Imagine how weird it would be if I dated my twin sister?”\n\n“I thought we were progressive here. Nothing in the way of love, or am I wrong?”\n\nSarah looked away. “This ain't love, it's vanity. How can ya say you're in love with someone who's jus' like you in every, single way?”\n\n“Easily, because we like all the same things, and we hate the same things. Choosing what to cook or where to go for dinner, that's never a problem. We can share clothes. The real question is why did it take me so long to realise it in the first place.”\n\nTurning to the others for help, they all shook their heads. Sarah sighed. Just when it looked like it was done, Rob came to her rescue.\n\n“Look, Violet, I get it. You feel lonely and you think what you need is someone who understands you as well as you understand yourself, and that's all. But, even if you're happy now, it won't last. At the end of the day, it's our differences that make us interesting, and your relationship is going to burn out soon enough. When it does, it's gonna interfere with your abilities. It's gonna hit hard, I promise. I've been there. You saw what a moment of doubt did to me. What's it gonna be like for you?”\n\nA lot of small gestures went on, strongly in support of the speech.\n\n“So, what? You're worried I'm going to become a nervous wreck like you were? Sorry to break it to you, but I'm a well-adjusted person. That's not going to happen.”\n\n“Violet-” Sarah began to say.\n\n“No, he's the one telling me what's 'going to happen' like he has any damn clue about me or my feelings.” The crowd didn't look so supportive now. “Why does it even matter to any of you? This is my personal life, what I'm doing in my time. I'm not hurting anyone or breaking rules. Heck, I'm saving the poor sods back in the city from having to put up with trying to date me.”\n\nMy words lingered, and no one wanted to fight with them. But, Rob couldn't go quietly.\n\n“It's just… it's wrong, Violet.”\n\n“Wrong? What, because it's gay?”\n\nHis eyes widened, and he shook his hands in front of him. “No, no, absolutely not. Why would- I'd never have a problem with that.”\n\n“Then what? Because at least I could understand that.” Rob swallowed whatever words he'd built, looking down. “You know what? I don't even care. I didn't ask for your approval, I don't want it either. If this issue is so big, just kick me out. Otherwise, shut up about it.”\n\nTurning around, Lavender smiled at me. After a step forwards, our hands joined.\n\n“Violet, quick question!”\n\nLooked over my shoulder. “What?”\n\n“Are you gonna use another duplicate to spice up things in the bedroom now and then?”\n\nThe reaction to that from the crowd was… mixed.\n\n“Imagine whatever makes you happy Wade.”\n\nHe saluted back, nodding. “Will do.”\n\nRolled my eyes, and thought that nothing fazed him. Lavender squeezed my hand and, well, they soon disappeared from my thoughts as we walked out." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: After taking part in an experimental drug study to create super-soldiers, you start to develop abilities far beyond that of any human being. Only thing is... you were in the placebo group." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Amy's arms and chest burned with effort, but she pushed the feeling to the back of her mind. She had to finish her set. Mostly to spite the others. She was the only woman in the group, and she would be damned if she did not represent her gender well.\n\nShe successfully finished the set and returned the bar to its resting place. It did so with a metallic clang that rivaled cannon fire. She sat up and toweled herself off as an assessor came to her.\n\n\"Lt. Wineman, progress.\" The man said.\n\n\"Just finished my set with five tons.\" She said.\n\n\"Impressive. A 5% increase over last week.\" He said. Amy caught a flutter in his voice and a look of concern flash across his face. \"Current condition?\"\n\n\"Right now, a bit tired, but that won't last. I've been recovering a lot faster lately. A few minutes and I'll be ready for the next workout.\"\n\n\"I...see. Any other changes?\"\n\n\"A bunch, yeah. My senses have gotten sharper, my skin is a lot tougher, and, well, a bunch of things. Guess you'll be testing those too, huh?\"\n\n\"Indeed.\"\n\n\"So, am I going to need another dose of those super pills soon?\"\n\n\"No, Lieutenant, I don't think that will be necessary. Your progress is sufficient with the dose you've received.\"\n\n\"Really? Because I heard a few of the guys talking, saying they got their third pill already.\"\n\n\"That was required for them. You have shown no need of the extra pill.\"\n\nAmy could smell the lie. Her new olfactory sense made it clear as day. But why lie? She had been progressing a lot faster than the others sure, but that only meant another super pill would speed it up, right? There was something she was missing.\n\nShe shrugged, giving no indication that she suspected something. \"Fine. Guess I'll make it work with what I was given.\"\n\n\"Of course. Please proceed with your daily exercises, Lt. Wineman.\"\n\nShe stood and grabbed a set of half-ton dumbbells and began curling them. The assessor made a few notes on his clipboard and moved on to the group of men who were working out in another part of the gym.\n\nAs the small man conducted the assessment of the others, Amy's enhanced hearing kicked in. She heard every word they said. They gave their current lifts, and all the changes they had been going through. They were just as strong as she was, but she had been improving faster, and they did not seem to have the sensory improvements she had. That was weird. Why was she developing in way they were not? It made no sense. They were getting the same stuff she was, so they should be chang in the same way, right?\n\nMaybe her gender was a factor? She knew other women had gotten the first pill, but she was the only one to respond to it. That had not been too surprising, considering how few people had been effected by it. But everyone always seemed so surprised she was there.\n\nA new man entered the room. Amy recognized him as one of the project leaders. He went over to the assessor, and the two went to a corner to talk. Amy could still hear them though.\n\n\"Well, how are they doing?\" The doctor asked.\n\n\"All above expectations. The third dose has had a notable increase to growth rates.\"\n\n\"Good. And what about the anomaly?\"\n\n\"She continues to surpass all expectations. I anticipate she will surpass the others in under a month.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Amy noted he did not sound happy.\n\n\"Sir, there's more.\"\n\n\"She's developing other abilities. Abilities the others aren't. She might begin to suspect she was in the control group.\"\n\nAmy froze. The control group? That meant all her pill were placebos? How was that possible? She had been a normal woman before taking the pill. Now she could bench press a car.\n\n\"Prevent that from happening.\" The doctor said. \"We cannot afford to lose her. She might have the key to improving the formula.\"\n\n\"And what if she does, sir? She might become unruly.\"\n\nThe doctor thought for a moment. \"If she does, we'll have to terminate her. We'll still be able to use her DNA if she dies, although I would prefer to keep her alive and in good condition.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"I'll take the report in my office when it's written.\"\n\nThe doctor left. Amy forced herself to resume her workout. Terminate her? The control group? Her mind was racing. She needed to know more. More about herself. More about the program. More about everything. She would do as much info gathering as she could.\n\nAnd if she found something she did not like? Well, in that case she would need to be stronger. Strong enough that they could not stop her from doing whatever she needed to.\n\nAmy set her weights down and grabbed a pair of 1,500 pound weights. She would be stronger. And she would get answers." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: True magic has been unearthed, and its effects are based on the spoken intent. While rappers can cast dozens of spells each minute, you learned to dual cast. You have become a master of puns." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "James wiped the sweat off his brow and looked out the bay door. The sun was starting to set, and while he had escaped most of the day’s heat in the shade of his workshop, the suns rays now shone directly on James and his work.\n\nJames had worked as a carpenter and general mechanic for as long as he could remember. His dad’s shop eventually becoming his own as the locals brought in everything from cars to old radios for repair. This time his project was restoring an antique dresser, or maybe one that was just built to look antique.\n\nThe business had been slow going even before the revival of magic in the world, but it was steady, honest work. Admittedly some simple incantations made the job easier, but that was true for every industry, so on the economic spectrum his work stayed about as valuable as it ever was.\n\n“Finish never fade, forever shine forth,” James muttered while mixing the lacquer. The liquid took on an almost imperceptible glow, then deepened in color to a rich mahogany. Most of the world had discovered that poetic nuances made magic more potent. Alliteration, for example, sped up the incantation, while assonance could extend the spell’s duration.\n\nMost importantly, every individual spell had to have its own rhythm. Children were now being taught magic alongside Shakespeare, practicing iambic pentameter as the basic rhythm for language, as well as the basic rhythm for elementary magic. Nobody knew why, but one rhythmic cadence could only produce one resulting effect, known as the Rhythm Rule.\n\nIf there were one industry that had exploded since magic returned to the world, it would have to be rappers. Their complex combinations of various rhythms, rhymes, and other techniques allowed them to cast a myriad of spells in quick succession with varying effects. Nearly every army squadron, board of directors, hospital, and a cappella group had one dedicated rapper, if not more. They could spew spells fast enough to disable bombs, stitch up wounds, guarantee a quarter’s profits, and inspire a crowd in 3 1/2 minutes or less.\n\nFinished with the lacquer, James started putting the drawers back in the dresser. On the third dresser, his grip slipped and he dropped it. The wood slit open his forefinger before crashing into the ground with a bang. James cursed and quickly rapped his finger in a rag sitting nearby, inhaling sharply as he put pressure on the cut. It would bleed a fair bit, but shouldn’t bleed for long.\n\nLooking down at the drawer, James realized one of the drawer walls had come undone and would have to be nailed back together. Absentmindedly he reached for an old box of nails, only to jerk in surprise when a dormouse jumped out of the box.\n\n“Damn pests,” James swore, before pausing and smiling to himself. There was one exception to the Rhythm Rule. Only one way to get two effects with a single spell. He quickly tossed the bloodied rag onto the fleeing rodent and spoke confidently, “dead as a doornail.” The rag went quite still, then collapsed slightly. Slowly, James reached down and lifted the rag. The dormouse had died, and in death, turned into a single nail, perfect for the job at hand.\n\nPleased with himself, James retrieved the nail and went back to his work. Puns were powerful, requiring fathers everywhere to think twice before uttering them at the dinner table. Unfortunately they just weren’t usually that practical. By nature puns associated two seemingly completely random things together, and the situations where you wanted both sides of a pun to be true were understandably contrived for that very reason.\n\nLuckily for James, he had felt like his whole life was contrived." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Bella grows a dick during full moons that only dissappear after she fucks a guy's ass." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Every month or so Bella disappears for a night or two and no one really knows why or where she goes. It's been like that since she was 19. She doesn't know from where the curse came or why but she learned to deal with it.\n\nThe door opened and they both went in. Frank was all over Bella as soon as the door closed. Making out while grabbing her ass and playing with it. He was so drunk he barely knew what he was doing, he just did as it felt right. Not every night one has such a sexy lady come to him and buy him a drink.\n\nAfter some talking and a couple more shots, she whispered in his ear and suggested to get a room he took her to the fanciest hotel around. He was truly having a lucky night.\n\nAfter both had lost their shirts and he had the chance to play with her breasts for a while she pushed him and he fell over the bed. She then looked at her purse and from there she pulled out a pair of handcuffs and a tube of lube\n\n-You like kinky huh?- he said as she climbed the bed and crawled over him, handcuffing him to headboard and giving him a bit of a chance of sucking on her tits a bit more.\n\nShe then pulled his pants down and left him completely naked. And turned off the lights, leaving the room only lit by the fool moon trough the window. She went down and grabbed his cock. Stroking it and feeling it get hard on her hand. That's when she opened her mouth and went down on him. Giving his cock a massage that made Frank feel like he was in heaven.\n\nAfter some time she let his cock go. Frank was so drunk and the room so dark, that he had no idea what was going on but he saw the silhouette of Bella letting her baggy jeans fall on the floor and walking towards him. He then felt her touch again as she moved his legs and opened them. She got close and the next thing he felt was her dropping a thick and heavy cock over his making a thump sound. \"What?\" He thought to himself. Bella took that heavy cock and started stroking it while applying the lube on it. Frank wasn't sure of what was going on but even though he started getting a bit nervous he was also pretty intrigued.\n\nHer soft hand grabbed his hips and that's when he felt it. It was that heavy cock, slowly pushing in. He groaned as he felt her stretching his ass. -hey what the fuck?!- he said confused and then kept saying it for some time. But he never said stop. He clenched his teeth as he felt every inch going inside of him. He found himself without being able to move his arms. But his legs were free. He could very well make her stop. But he didn't.\n\n-That's it.- She said as soon as her whole dick had disappeared inside of frank. -You're taking it like a champ- she said with a tender voice. Frank felt good hearing this. And then she slowly started pulling her cock out of him just to stop right before pulling out the tip, and then she started pushing in again. And she kept repeating this while gaining momentum. He bit his lip but after some time he couldn't hold it and he started moaning with each thrust she gave. His rock hard cock pointing up and swinging back and forth with each movement. She moaned as well of course.\n\nTime passed and she could feel as if she would not hold any longer. And leaned over him, rubbing her belly against his cock as she pumped him. He let out a loud moan and couldn't avoid to release a fat load of cum that got all over her belly and her tits. And of course over him as well. And after feeling this she got to her limit as well. And she gave three hard thrusts, going all the way in and slamming her balls against his ass before shooting and filling him with a month's worth of cum. She kept pumping until she felt empty and finally fell over him to catch her breath.\n\nThe two of them were exhausted. She managed to uncuff him right before she fell asleep in his arms, and he would be passing out shortly after that.\n\nHe woke up the next morning without an idea of what happened last night. Trying to figure it out when suddenly she came out from the bathroom completely naked after taking a bath.\n\n-ready for round two- she said. Still without remembering Frank had a pretty good idea of what happened now. He was still missing and important detail. But it didn't matter. She sat down on the bed and he quickly moved to turn her an opened her legs to start eating her pussy." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: I'm about to finish my time travel equations, I know it! Because my future self is watching me, eating popcorn." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This was the culmination of a lifetime of work. Equations covered the walls of my study, spilling up onto the ceiling and out over the floors. Not an inch of wood or paneling went unmarked, and I had to knock over the bookshelves to make more room for them.\n\nI know what this must look like. If one of my coworkers could see this, they would think I’d gone off the deep end. I considered it, early on when I started writing my masterpiece.\n\nBut then he appeared. Or, I appeared?\n\n“You’re doing great,” he said and reached for another handful of popcorn. He was sat there, atop the ruins of my desk, and watching me as I continued to write along the walls.\n\nHe looked just like me. A little less bedraggled, his suit less wrinkled, and his hands not smudged with ink, admittedly, but me. Same green eyes, light blonde hair cut to university standards.\n\n“You could help.”\n\n“That would defeat the point. You have to reach the conclusion by yourself, or it won’t work.”\n\n“Then you could share some popcorn.”\n\n“Oh, uh…time paradox stuff. If you ate future food while you’re still constrained by the relentless flow of your timeline, it would kill you.” Oh, well, of course. That made perfect sense.\n\n“That’s stupid.”\n\n“Yes. But I’m still not sharing.” Perhaps it had to do with a commitment to non-interference? To watch the timeline but reduce your impact on it, even going so far as to commit petty acts of selfishness against yourself.\n\nMaybe I was just a jerk, actually. My eyes drifted back over the walls and floors, then I craned my neck to search every nook and cranny of the ceiling. There was something missing in the equation. I was still missing a variable, and without it none of this would work. But what was it?\n\nWhen I appeared before myself with a bag of popcorn and a foldout lawn chair, I knew it had worked. I had found a way to throw myself through time, and then back again. If only I wasn’t so frustrating, if only I could help myself. Screw you, future me. Why do you have to be so frustrating?\n\nNo, but what if?\n\nWhat if that’s the missing part of the equation?\n\nOf course. I was looking at the variables of space and time, I was calculating the physics of it. But I never stopped to consider the human element. Me. I must go through time, so my calculations should account for that.\n\nFuture Me snapped his fingers.\n\n“You understand?”\n\n“I think so. I was forgetting myself, literally. I was considering how much energy would be needed to shift time, theoretically, but not how much I needed to shift myself. It would be easier if I could…somehow ‘unanchor’ myself.” If I could somehow remove myself from my own timeline, it would be more feasible.\n\nWould that be possible?\n\nPerhaps. It’s like gravity. Time pulls you in just like gravity pulls you down toward a celestial object. But if I could create enough force to eject me from time’s pull, like a sufficiently powerful rocket could escape a planet’s gravitational pull, I could be sent freefalling through time.\n\nI would need to be very careful about interacting with the people and places I encountered, though. I would have considerable temporal momentum…\n\n“Of course. I can’t touch you, or the popcorn. If I even grazed you in the state you’re in right now, I’d likely age decades at once. Or un-age decades.”\n\n“You do get it.”\n\n“I’ll need to rewrite all this to account for that, and talk to the dean about funding for the machine…”\n\n“If you tell her you’ll clean up all this mess and never bother her again, she’ll agree to it.”\n\n“Excellent. I’ll have to get started right away…ah, and I need to set a reminder to buy some popcorn and a lawn chair.”\n\n“They’re on sale right now.”\n\n“Even better.”\n\n(Thanks for reading! C&C always welcome!)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: In a post-apocalyptic future, two desperate men fight each other over a bottle of water." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I used to think time could change a man. But it doesn't, we are all who we are, the change is in our mask. The easier it is to live, the easier it is to act like you think you should, But a man that would kill you to save his own life is always that man; he just doesn't know it until his life is threatened.\n\nI used to be a therapist, not the \"sit down and tell me about your life\" kind, I was a physical therapist; I spent my 20's showing people they could get better. That's why I thought people could change; watching a man who's given up find that inner spark and keep moving forward, it makes you want to we can all become the person we need to be. But it's just not the truth. The man who overcame losing his hand would have over come losing both hands, his feet, his hearing, his vision, it wouldn't have mattered: he would have overcame.\n\nAnd the man who gave up the minute he became a paraplegic, well, he would have given up to something much smaller. It's because deep down, under everything you tell yourself, you've already made your choice, already answered the big question, \"Am I a survivor?\"\n\nAll of this flashes through my mind for a fraction of a second as we stare at each other over the lifeless corpse between us. The fire pit, like the body, had long been dead, and neither of us could have told you for how long, or which happened first. But none of that mattered. What mattered was the bottles that lay next to the dead mans backpack. In the initial scramble, so many necessities were over looked, reliable fire starting materials, compasses, quality knives, and most important, durable bottles to store water. And those half dozen bottles sitting there were all Lifesaver Systems 4000UF's. The only bottle who's lack of a return policy was their promise it would last a lifetime.\n\nI see his hands drifting, slowly, to his waist, while keeping his eyes on me. My knife, already in hand, perfectly balanced for my hands, I speak first.\n\n\"Before you reach for that snub nose currently pointed at your cock, you should ask yourself two questions: You think you can grab it before I can throw my knife? and what are the odd's a snub nose will shoot straight at 30 feet?\"\n\nHis hands hesitate, feigning reconsideration, but I can see in his eyes, his jaw, that his mind is still set. \"No the question I have to ask myself is, \"Will my actions affect your's, or is your mind all ready made up?\" Because I think you're already calculating if I'm the kind of guy that will go down with a knife to the gut, or if you have to risk a more difficult and more lethal throw.\"\n\nThis man would have overcome a wheel chair. I shift my weight, ready to drop and roll should his revolver make an appearance. \"The way I see it, we can roll the dice, take a fifty-fifty chance that you are the faster shot, or we can pretend the bombs never dropped. For a minute pretend our world never changed, act with civility, and split the water bottles down the middle and go our separate ways. How do you want to do this?\"\n\nI can see his mind working, what kind of man is he? A loaded question these days. Back when the world was still jogging in place and not a race for survival there were all kinds of people, but now the only people left are survivors, all that varies is how well that identity fits us. He begins raising his hands.\n\n\"Okay, we can still be people. Your knife is already in hand, so here's what we will do; You will walk forward, take your three bottles and walk back. You will keep walking, until you're gone and no one is gonna have to die. Can we do this?\"\n\nI remember how I used to fix the broken. How every one of their victories was mine too, how every wobbly, shaky step on a prosthetic leg's echo would whisper through the gym, a triumphant shout to the gods that they would not stay broken.\n\n\"Yeah, we can do that. So let's stay calm, I'm going to walk to him now.\" I begin taking my slow, shaky steps toward the body, toward the bottles, adrenalin already pumping. I can tell that this is new to him, he's getting edgy now. \"Hey man, everything's gonna be okay\" My words seem to only increase his jitteriness; his mind begins to become hyper-vigilant. Eye's darting around, behind me, next to me, in front of me, to the bottles, the body, the woods around us.\n\n\"Hey man, it's all good. HEY! eyes here! On me. I'm the one you need to worry about.\" His panic becomes ever more visible.\n\n\"What does that mean?!? You got buddies out there? Is that it? you gonna have them jump me as you leave?\" His hands start to fall to his waist again.\n\n\"Hands up! Eye's here! No one else is here, it's just us, you and me. We made a deal, remember? Three for me, three for you. Don't fuck up what could have been just fine.\"\n\nI'm at the body now, bottles almost in my reach. \"I'm right here, look at me. I'm not gonna do anything, I'm picking them up now.\" 15 feet away, I can smell his sweat from here. \"Look, I have my three, no one else is here, this is all almost over, I just need you to-\" My words are cut off by an owl's hoot from no further then 30 feet away.\n\nHis head spins toward the noise as his hands rush for his snub nose, \"I fucking knew there was someone else\" He tries to shout, but only manages, \"I fuck-\" as my knife finds his throat; a much easier throw from fifteen feet. He looks down at the knife sticking out from the base of his throat, less then half and inch above his collar bone and dead center.\n\n\"Oh shit\" is all he can say as he crumples to the ground and I collect my bottles and search the rest of the now two body's gear.\n\nI used to think people changed, but they don't. Eight years ago if you'd have asked me if I'd have killed a man for a bottle, I would have said \"no.\" Four years ago I'd have asked you, \"how thirsty am I?\" But today I know that the years don't matter, the question I would have always asked myself is, \"do I want the bottle?\" People don't change, the only thing that changes is if the world let's us be true to ourselves, to who we are.\n\nAnd who am I?\n\nI crouch down, lighting the crummy camp stove sitting next to the bottles and cut a juicy looking hunk of meat from the more recently deceased body, tossing it into a pan over the flame.\n\nI'm a survivor." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A thuggish \"Dark And Edgy\" superpowered person decides to \"break the spirit\" of an upbeat and cheerful barista. A \"Silly\" villain decides to stop them by demonstrating that they're only silly because they choose to be silly, and that being a nightmare was always an option." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Twirl Stache heard a sentence he's always hated come from a young man in at the counter. \"You're terribly cheerful for someone who serves coffee.\"\n\nHe looked up from his newspaper and towards the barista. A young man in a leather jacket was speaking to Melissa. He was clearly impatient about his order, but Melissa was the only one at the counter for this shift. Still, she admirably served with a smile. \"Ah, you need to be these days. The city's dangerous, but having a smile will let you get through anything!\"\n\nThe customer scoffed. \"It doesn't make me get my coffee any faster. The world isn't bright and happy. It's tough and it will crush you under your heel.\"\n\nWhat a prick! Twirl Stache takes a sip of his coffee, giving himself a mental reminder to give Melissa an extra tip. The girl simply smiled again and said, \"It's only that way if you let it be.\" She finished his coffee and handed it to him with the cookies he chose. \"Your total is nine dollars and forty-three cents.\"\n\n\"For this crap? No. I'm going to teach you a lesson about how things are instead. There are people with powers and people without. Those with power take power.\" The edge lord shakes his coffee cup as he started grow in size. \"And late, overpriced coffee.\"\n\nMelissa sighed in response to that. \"I'm sorry sir, but you need to pay for it like everyone else.\"\n\n\"What reason do I have to do that? I could bring this place down without effort and put you in the hos- OW! What the hell?!\"\n\nTwirl Stache chuckled as single hair was plucked from the head of the belligerent \"customer.\" He quickly turned to face the villain, who was now twirling the mustache he gets his name from. The villain simply spun a finger as more strands of hair were plucked. He chuckled again. \"If you try, you're going to be bald.\"\n\n\"Do you know who I am?!\"\n\n\"No, and I don't care.\"\n\nHe was starting to turn red and he began to approach Stache. \"My name is Oni Dan and I'm going to- GAH!\" Dan proceeded to clap where more of his hair was plucked. \"You're going to- AH!\"\n\nThe villain smiled. He enjoyed using hair control in this way. It was a bit sadistic, sure, but it's hilarious to interrupt people like this Dan. \"We could go for hours. Do you want to leave? Nobody will take you seriously if they hear what happened to you\"\n\nDan glared and took one more step before yelling in pain. All the hair on the man's had suddenly decided to uproot and leave. The villain shook his finger in response. \"Tsk, tsk. Have fun explaining your current hairstyle. We can continue or-\"\n\nA ringing was heard at the door and Twirl Stache immediately put his newspaper up. Melissa had done the smart thing and called a hero. The villain smiled upon seeing who it was. His rival, Balder Brawn, had come to take a newly bald man to the authorities." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1400-1500 words. Prompt: Aliens abducted a random human to learn human customs before official first contact. The guy they abducted is named Mark. He’s from Boston. He’s an asshole." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Log Entry 007654\n\nSubject was taken from dwelling in a primitive Earth city. Sensors show it appears to be healthy. Planet has made an orbit 32 times since it's birth, around 567 galactic years. Genetic scan reveals average life span of humans to be around 120 Earth years, although for a civislizion at that stage of medicine and technology, we suspect most actually die off around 80 Earth years of age.\n\nScans of Earth media have been unsuccessful, the technology used is to simple to pick up on our modern detectors. Subject shall be examined to gain semblance of idea for Earth culture.\n\nLog Entry 007655\n\nWe had to retreat to a moon of this solar systems fifth planet after sheilding failed. Possible some Earth tech may have picked us up, but scramblers should corrupt any data. Hope no one will believe someone who may have seen.\n\nSubject woke up today. Speaks Earth \"English.\" We used bio morphs to appear more human so as to make him comfortable (Humans seem to have two genetic sexes, and Subject appears to fit 'male' best).\n\nSubject claimed to go by \"Blemish.\" Automatic translators may have messed up, since names often do not mean the same as they otherwise would. In Earth tongue, it is pronounced \"Mark.\" We shall refer to him as such, despite it being such an obscene term.\n\nFirst Mark did upon waking up was declare that he was hungry. Seemed confused but unconcerned as to being outside of his home.\n\nBasic capsules providing all nutrients humans need based on our scans were provided. However, Mark refused to eat them saying \"I ain't eating no fucking foreign medicine. Get me something with some BBQ sauce.\" Due to issue mentioned earlier, we are unable to return close enough to Earth to pick up native food, so we will wait and hope he accepts the tablets when he really needs them.\n\nLog Entry 007656\n\nMarks basic needs behavior is very similar to similar lifeforms examined elsewhere. Has a dormant period of about 340 parseconds and waking of 300 parseconds. Scans indicate this is more darmant time than genetically required, so it should be assumed humans do not typically spend more time dormant than awake.\n\nAs Mark has not eaten the tablets yet, no solid waste has been expelled, but water based waste has. Upon showing him how to use the waste-disposal hose, Mark commented \"I think I'm too big for that, if-ya-know whaddai mean.\" He then made barking noises quite loudly which I assume is the human form of laughter, a phenomenon recorded in many species. Upon explaining that I did not, in fact, know what he meant, and then after showing him he was incorrect, Mark remained quiet. All he said for the rest of the day was \"damn Japanese toilets.\"\n\nWe have not told him that he is off Earth or that we are not human. He does often refer to us as \"forieners\" and \"bitch aliens coming into my country and kidnapping me,\" but we believe he is referring to people from different areas of his home planet.\n\nLog Entry 007657\n\nBegan testing with Mark today. We did preliminary exams of intellect, emotion, creativity, and interests. Some relevant sections of of these are included below, between the subject and Jkkns:\n\nJkkns: Mark, how many cubes would I have if I had 5 rows and 3 columns?\n\nMark: I graduated fucking elementary school. 15 cubes. Do you think I'm dumb or some shit?\n\nJkkns: Of course not, Mark. We just want to see how much you know.\n\nMark: You must be pretty smart, huh? Graduate from one of them big universities? My brother went to MIT. Fucking nerd.\n\nJkkns: We are not here to talk about me, Mark. But yes, I did receive extensive schooling. Shall we move on? What number can you multiply by itself to get 225?\n\nMark: Your pretty hot for a smart chick. Why do bother with it? I could treat you right.\n\nJkkns: I'm afraid I do not understand. I am at a perfectly acceptable temperature right now.\n\nMark: Hey, I'm just trying to give you a compliment.\n\nJkkns: Then thank you. Perhaps we should move back a step. How many times does 7 go into 56?\n\nMark: Are ya with that tall nerd with the weird as fuck eyes? Is that what's going on here?\n\nJkkns: Am I with him? Who are you referring to? Currently I'm in this room with you. I am on this ship with my colleagues.\n\nMark: We're on a ship? I fucking knew it, the way you call that guy captain. Leave him. Help me get outta here, and I'll treat you nice.\n\nJkkns: Are you suggesting we pursue a romantic relationship with each other? If so, I am sorry but I am not interested in such things.\n\nMark: It doesn't have to be romantic. Just a... Mutual agreement. Ya know, like friends with benefits.\n\nJkkns: I do not think you understand. I am not interested. None of my people are, we do not believe in such things. Now, what is the difference between 17 and 52?\n\nMark: Fucking slutty prude bitch.\n\nIt has been decided to keep all biomorphs in a human male apperence.\n\nLog Entry 007658\n\nMark has been very vocal today. He said he was starving and he didn't care if we were on a ship but he wanted \"dung kin doe nuts.\" We figure this is some sort of food, but are not sure what exactally. The subject had still not eaten the tablets by his fourth dormant cycle, so we had no option but to forcibly inject nutrients into his blood stream. Mark became violent at this and although he poses no real threat we were afraid he may harm himself, so we had to sedate him. Little was done today, but it does seem we are getting a better grasp on human culture.\n\nLog Entry 007659\n\nAfter the previous incident, Mark has agreed to willingly take the tablets. This is a big relief and hopefully will improve his physical and emotional state. He said that the tablets would be better with \"booze,\" but once again we unsure as the meaning.\n\nMark does seem to be a bit more calm with something to digest, so we were able to have a more regular conversation- although I use the term loosely, as it was mostly him talking.\n\nHe went on for quite some time about traffic, and how \"everyone else in Boston is a terrible driver, but Im good. I don't even need to stop at lights, because I have amazing driving abilities and have only gotten in a few car crashes- and like half of those were because I was drunk.\"\n\nHe also mentioned that on Earth, he was infact employed. His job was in a warehouse moving packages and products around.\n\nIt was also curious that he said he lived Boston, but also mentioned living in \"Arlington.\" He said it was near Boston, so everyone just says that's where they're from.\n\nHe ended the discussion with a long rant on \"bitchin liberal snowflakes\" all over his town and how \"it's too damn expensive to live in the place, but he lived with his parents so he \"didn't have to give anyone anything.\"\n\nLog Entry 007660\n\nMark discovered he is not on Earth. He had some kind of breakdown and then screamed that we were \"filthy immigrants trying to push my people from our homes, take our land, and infect our culture!\"\n\nWe tried to explain that, no, we are not interested in invading, that we just want to get permission to use the adjacent planet \"Mars\" as a base in this area of the Galaxy and to set up an embassy on Earth. Mark kept screaming, and had another breakdown about being off world. We sedated him and left him in his room, figuring he would not want to interact with us. We think we have enough information to establish communication, anyway. The ship is returning to Earth's sector of this system.\n\nLog Entry 007661\n\nWe made our way to Earth, and have landed on the moon. They have surely noticed us, and we just sent out our message.\n\nWe were able to transport Mark back to Earth, fearing a continued stay on our ship would make him unstable. We have our message, keeping him any longer would just be creul.\n\nI think our message of peace will show we have interest in Earth culture and are not so different:\n\n\"Fuck the Philidalphia Eagles\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: All of the other students at magic school laughed at you when you chose a lizard as your pet. “What, you think it’s going to turn into a dragon or something?” They stopped laughing when it actually did." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She is a lightning dragon.\n\nShe did in fact get born looking like a lizard, as some dragons do.\n\n\"Mal,\" Khan, my classmate, spoke to me, \"I know you're the best at storm element spells and all, but why have a lizard as a pet? The other students usually have a cat, a toad, and sometimes a golem.\"\n\n\"Khan, I took Storm in because she was lost and just hatched. She was in desperate need of a mother as her own mother abandoned her. I couldn't just leave her there. So I took her in and have been taking care of her since.\"\n\nThe other potential witches and warlocks heard my conversation with Khan and laughed at us like elementary school children.\n\n\"Mal, you little eccentric! Lizards don't make good magic pets!\"\n\n\"Yeah, lizards can't make good magic pets unless they have dragon potential!\"\n\nAt this point in time, Storm was 10 years old. I was 4 when I took her in and took care of her. I know how to take care of an animal.\n\nStorm could fit into my palm. She is a good little stinker, she is.\n\nThen the teenagers were eager to see if Storm had any abilities.\n\nI'm a lightning element witch. Most of us have magic with elements. Khan is a dark element warlock like about half the students here. Usually we get earth element witches and also fire element warlocks. Some of them are even ice element witches. And we also have light element, ghost element, poison element, even holy element!\n\n\"What, Mal? Is it a dragon child or something?\"\n\n\"Mal, you know that lizards aren't--\"\n\nThat crazy cat fire witch Gladys was cut off when Storm grew larger. She radiated with pure thunder.\n\nAnd she set off a lightning strike near the school. The lightning struck right at one of our enemy He-Who-Must-Never-Be-Named's lackeys.\n\nThen Storm went back to lizard form.\n\nEveryone was dumbfounded. Including Khan, my best friend.\n\n\"Wh-what did it just do?\"\n\n\"She,\" I corrected. \"This dragon is a female. Her lightning is quite powerful.\"\n\n\"Damn right it's powerful!\"\n\n\"SHE!\" I corrected again.\n\nThe headmaster, Korra Jizelda Kronos, went over to see what the commotion was. She found the enemy's scout's body. After determining who it was, she turned to us and asked directly,\n\n\"Whose magic took out the Evil One's scout here?\"\n\nI decided to own up to it.\n\n\"My dragon did this,\" I spoke, \"she looks like a lizard but she is actually a lightning dragon. She threw the thunderbolt on the scout. She's my pet, though I did not order her to do that. I think she might have noticed the scout and took action to protect us right away.\"\n\n\"Very well then,\" Headmaster Kronos said to me, \"you're allowed to have that... interesting pet of yours.\"\n\n\"What, you think it's ridiculous like the students did?\" I asked her. Then I said,\n\n\"I'm certain that she's protecting me because I took her in when her own mother abandoned her.\"\n\n\"I see, Mal. I suppose good deeds do reap good things.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: All that's left has been split in two - divided by a wasteland. A renegade trucker with a rolling fortress does freelance jobs across the quarantine zone." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The horizon rippled like a pond disturbed by a single pebble, and the scorching sun continued to barrage her arm as it rested against the open window. The breeze that slipped in through the opening did little to cool her down, the hot air simply wafting around whatever strands of greasy hair had slipped out of the messy bun. With a scoff, she bit through the toothpick lodged between her teeth and promptly spat the over-chewed speck of wood out the window. Reaching over to the passenger seat she rummaged through a pile of boxes until she found the open one, and sloppily removed a new toothpick, placing it firmly between her incisors.\n\nStill pissed her off, that job. A hundred miles worth of gas for a literal ton of toothpicks hardly seemed like a fair deal to her, but then again it beat not getting paid at all. Something that was becoming an all too real possibility in regards to her current job if the shithole cresting the horizon was any indication. Switching hands to scratch the sunburn on her left arm, she grunted disapprovingly as more of the settlement came into view.\n\nIt was a well town, she figured, since elsewise she'd either be seeing crops or livestock and as far as she could tell they had neither. Besides, only a well was valuable enough for people to live out in the middle of nowhere like this, visible for miles and exposed to the elements. Well towns were trouble as far as she was concerned, any comfort given by an ample source tempered by the knowledge that people will do many a thing to get their fill.\n\nShe pulled up as close as she could while still allowing herself the mobility to easily pass once her business here was done. And as far as she was concerned, it couldn't be done fast enough. The children came first, as they always did, swarming around her as she exited the truck. The sun intensified its barrage as soon as she stepped out, the shade provided by her visor doing little to cool her down. She found herself missing the breeze, however little help it provided, and found herself missing the confines of her cabin as dirt-faced runts assaulted her with questions.\n\nShe had long since lost the patience to answer them, and instead pulled her cap down and pushed them aside as she made her way into town. Then again, \"town\" appeared a bit generous when referring to the glorified watering hole that it presented. The houses were made of \"Wastestone\" as it was called in the colonies, a type of sandstone made from fruitless soil and precious little else. They could keep you cool, but she had seen enough of them collapse to know that you paid a dear price for that brief respite from the heat.\n\nThe only building in town made of steel was the gas station, and she knew that she would find her contact somewhere within its walls. On her way there she passed the large shaft that led down to the reservoir and marveled at its depth. Almost every member of this community went down there on a daily basis, as she knew they had to if they hoped to survive. It was a tough livin', and she knew that most of these places didn't survive nearly as long as you'd think. Then again, that wasn't her concern. After all, she had come here for a job.\n\nThe doors to the station flew open as she entered, disrupting the ruckus created by its patrons. All eyes turned to her, and she, in turn, turned her eyes onto all of them, scanning the room for her contact. At the bar sat a man who could only be the one she was here for, as unlike the others he seemed content to finish his ramblings to a now silent bartender. As she stepped past tables on her way to the bar they all resumed talking, though their tone was more reserved. Almost cautious.\n\nHer contact looked over as she took a seat next to him and signaled the bartender for a drink, his breath heavy with alcohol but his eyes clear and focused. She slammed down the order onto the bar, sliding it over to the foreman, making her intentions very clear. The man allowed his eyes to float over the slip of paper, never focusing on any one word, and subtly threw a glance over his shoulder. To where her rig was parked. She tensed up and realized she still hadn't been served her drink and looked over to where the bartender should have been, only to find dead air.\n\nCursing under her breath she quickly seized the foreman's bottle and smashed it into his face, sending bloody shards flying everywhere. Sliding quickly off her stool she narrowly dodged a swing against her head and reached into her vest to retrieve her brass knuckles. Just as her ambusher prepared to bring the table leg down on her face once more, she managed to kick over his load-bearing leg and send him crashing face first into a rising fist. It was deeply satisfying to feel his jaw crack under the force, but she knew the bar brawl was far from over.\n\nFirst came a woman with a broken bottle who managed a shallow slash against her arms before receiving a few broken ribs as recompense. Unfortunately, that gave someone else an opening to strike a chair against her back, which promptly broke as a result of being extremely poorly made. Unfortunately, it still hurt like hell and managed to knock the wind out of her for a moment before she could retaliate with a hard strike to the shin, the resulting scream and collapse proof of the punch's bone-shattering success.\n\nThe large man that remained wasted no time waiting for her to get up, and struck her hard enough on the jaw to send her crashing onto the floor entirely, her toothpick bounding across it like tumbleweed. Her head spun and her eyes had a hard time focusing, but as he reared up to kick her in the face she grabbed a large shard of glass and felt it cut into her hand. The pain was enough to jolt her slightly back, and as she rolled away she came back up with the shard and stabbed it deep into the man's abdomen again and again.\n\nHe was still screaming as she left the gas station bruised and bloodied and in a lot more pain than she bargained for. Whatever non-combatants had been present in the establishment were crowded around the man who she knew was likely going to die, but they didn't know that yet. Her hand stung as she gripped it tightly around the can of gasoline, moving slowly back to her rig. It wasn't enough, it wasn't what she was promised, but she damn sure wasn't leaving this shithole without something to show for it.\n\nThe kids that usually gathered when she left were gone, as they always were when things went poorly. It wasn't her fault, really, she thought as she opened the storage compartment and stared at the boxes upon boxes of rations she had been hired to deliver. Placing the can of gasoline on the floor she almost felt bad for them, certain to starve because some assholes in a bar bit off more than they could chew. It made her feel a little better about the man she had most certainly killed. At least he was going to die soon anyway.\n\nYeah, she thought as she entered the rig and adjusted her cap in the rearview mirror, at least there was that." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: 1 year ago, 'The Order' took over the world, but the thing is: nothing has seemed to change; you want to know what happened." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Today is the anniversary. Good or bad doesn't really matter anymore. This group...no Order announced to the world that we are disciples and that our time has come. That was it. Our time has come and this Order now rules over us. Everyday people like you and me just live life like we used to though. I wake up, go to work, come home, play with my kids, cuddle with my wife, maybe watch a show or something and then pass out. It's not an exciting routine, but it's kept me and my family happy enough. This day though has been just itching in the back of my brain. What happened? What changed? Who is The Order? None of it made sense. They acted like we were supposed to worship something or someone or somehow change our lives. Nobody did as far as I know. The Order has shown their faces so it's not like they are some entity or some prank put on by the folks associated with the Anonymous hacker group. No each country in the world has what is called \"The Common Interest\" which is a small group of people that have led. There was no resistance from government figures, nothing from religious leaders, nothing. Why? None of this made sense.\n\nAbout 2 weeks ago a friend of mine that lived down the street was working and then got news that his company was closing. It was a manufacturing company that he had worked his way up and after 14 years worked in the Q&A department of the office. Business seemed to be going well, and he never expressed concern about his job. He walked out though with all of his belongings and walked in the door. He didn't have kids, wanted them but it just never worked out. Shame to because he would have been an awesome dad. His wife though must have said some harsh things when he got home that day because the next thing I knew \"murder suicide\" was all over the news. My friend killed his wife and then himself with what everyone believed was a tool taken from his ex employer. It wasn't jagged, it wasn't pointed. It just had a faint glow, kind of like it was glow in the dark and had just sucked in enough light to emit a slight glow. The glow was a hue of dark blue or purple maybe. I don't know, I just saw what was on the news as police were taking it away from the scene. There wasn't a funeral, friends and family were sent a letter stating that it was in their will that there was no public funeral and no family was invited. Weird, but I respect their wishes. Just yesterday though there were reports of various gas leaks throughout the county. Several houses had gone up in a fiery blast raining debris on all the neighbors. Coincidentally my friends house was one of them. A crater was left where his house with water spraying up and little bits of wood scattered about. I stood there in awe. What is going on?\n\nToday has been just strange. As a population we were never told to not contact The Order. We were never told to not question what was going on. Hell they had a website that provided some useful information like stocks, various trades to other countries, even accomplishments in science. They also had a Contact Us link. I clicked it and a box pops up on my screen. \"By contacting us you accept our Terms and Conditions\". There was no link for the Terms and Conditions so I backed out and right below the Contact Us link it was there. I right clicked it and opened it in another window. Nobody reads these things, but this wasn't some ordinary thing. This was The Order...our supposed rulers. May as well find out what they are making me agree to right? I waiting for the window to load. Waited. Waited. I don't have slow internet but Jesus this was bad. Roughly 5 minutes passed and it began to slowly show some text. By slowly I mean like dial up internet slow when you try to sneak your first peek at a naked lady. It just slowly chops away at the blank screen and then BAM the nudity is there! Well that's what this was like. I started reading and it seemed like typical lawyer talk or whatever is used for these types of sites. About halfway through the page though I caught 3 words in capital letters. We Are Rulers. At that point my breath got a bit faster and said screw it.\n\nI clicked the box and was taken to the typical \"form\" to fill out for these Contact Us links. Name, email, phone number, best time to contact were all there. Then just a yes or no drop down box. Do you accept us? I felt like no wasn't an option so I clicked on yes and wrote a short message: Hello. I just wanted to know what exactly you guys are doing. I don't mean to offend, but nothing has really changed since your \"takeover\".\n\nI couldn't write anymore like I had reached the max number of characters or something. Couldn't delete anything either and my cursor stayed on the submit button. Click.\n\nI sent that at 10:53 am and it is now 11:12. I have received an email that just simply said: Thank you for contacting us. We are happy to inform you that all is well and that our rule over you is simplistic in all ways. If you wish to know more about what you can do as both a citizen and important servant please respond to this email.\n\nAll I responded with was \"Yes I would like to know more\".\n\nAt 11:46 I received another email with a link to a video and a message saying: In this video are both answers and questions. We ask you to keep an open mind. Do NOT open this video if you are not prepared for what you will see. That is all. Have a pleasant day and we thank you for contacting The Order.\n\nAs of now I have not opened the video. My hands shake so bad as soon as I move the cursor to the link that I don't know if I could even accurately click on it right now." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: A space western, where a man wants to bring back the law to a crime redden town, but his only ally is a broken down stand up comedy robot" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Listen, Rodney, I know you weren’t really built for this sort of stuff, but if things get bad, I just want to know you’ve been a good worker.”\n\nRodney’s bulky square head lit up like a pinball machine. His eyes burned yellow. “Hey, why aren’t there any Jewish mothers on parole boards? – because they never let anyone finish a sentence!” The eyes blinked wildly. A laugh track sounded from the speaker in his chest.\n\nAlbert sighed and rubbed his temples. The two of them stood outside the garage where they parked their hover bikes. Albert’s bovine farm sat a good ten kilometers from the town, and the whole way here Rodney had been cracking jokes. Bad ones, drawing from a massive reservoir of cheesy joke books and puns.\n\nHe would have to mess with Rodney’s coding again. If they survived the night, that was. He had turned the defunct, bullet-ridden robot into a useful farmhand, but he never gave up craft of stand-up. He even told jokes to the cows when Albert wasn’t around. Sometimes he found it endearing, but at the moment his stomach churned and he thought he might spew the processed glop he had forced himself to eat. Rodney’s jokes were about to send him over the edge.\n\n“Now, the guys who burned down the barn are in that saloon. This is the place where you used to work, remember? The place where they kicked you out. You know the layout of the place. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I need to you to watch my back. Get a good vantage point or something. If me or anyone starts shooing – well, then you start shooting too. ”\n\n“Okay, Albert,” Rodney said. “You got it. Say, what do you call –“\n\n“No,” Albert said, putting his hand up. “It’s time to be serious, remember.”\n\nHe had updated Rodney’s operating system with some new programs. Including some basic security and weapons applications. He wasn’t built for that sort of work, though. He had run some tests, but there was no telling what would happen when it actually mattered. The two of them walked across the darkened streets to the saloon. Light and music poured out of the doors every time some entered or went back out into the streets. He fingered the pistol at his side, just to make sure it was there.\n\nEvery person within twenty miles who had a few bucks to spare was packed into the place. Raucous laughter and cursing filled the hot, smoke-filled air. A robotic band played some incomprehensible music while people threw beer bottles at them. Albert squeezed his way through, Rodney close behind. He ordered a shot at the bar.\n\nThe three men who had burned his barn down sat in the darkened back corner of the bar. They were probably smugglers, but they dabbled in extortion when they were bored. Hence the burning of the barn. They terrorized all the farmers out here, and no one ever stood up to them. They gave the sheriff his cut and carried on as usual.\n\nHe downed the shot, nodded to Rodney, -who was trying to tell a joke to the man next to him – and walked over to the table. The three men watched him approach. They looked vaguely amused.\n\n“Good evening, gentlemen,” Albert said. “I think we’ve met before.”\n\n“Oh, yeah,” one of them said. He smiled, revealing metallic teeth – evidence of serious body modification and upgrades. This one had done most of the talking on the night of the burning. “You’re the guy that wouldn’t pay us.”\n\n“You burned down my barn. You owe me a lot of money. You also shot half of McGregor’s cows and you threatened to kill Steve. You dragged him out of his house in the middle of the night and beat the living hell out of him,” Albert said.\n\n“Yeah, we did. Those were good times. Why don’t you have a seat,” the man said.\n\n“I didn’t come here to drink with you.”\n\nThe man stood up, laughing. His hand shot out and grabbed Albert around the neck and pulled him up close, so he could smell the man’s rancid, whiskey-tainted breath. Everything on the table went sprawling. Albert was close enough to the see the swirling nano-bots within his eyes. He wondered if he had made a terrible mistake. He prayed Rodney wasn’t too notice what was happening. He was more or less helpless without him.\n\n“You got a lot of balls to come over here. And you just spilt my friends’ drinks. I think you owe us a round.”\n\nRodney’s metallic arm appeared out of nowhere. It clamped down on the outlaw’s arms and squeezed.\n\n“Hey, look at these assholes,” Rodney said. “Where are you guys off to? The asshole convention?” He had entered Heckler-stand-up mode. The clamp tightened on the man’s wrist. The outlaw’s face went pale white. He heard the bones snap. “What’s the difference between a nicely dressed man on a bicycle and a nicely dressed man on a tricycle? A tire.”\n\nThe two other men stood up, drawing their pistols. Rodney’s other arm drew faster. He fired two shots point blank, and both men crumbled. Everyone in the saloon turned to stare for a long second, and then the whole place erupted into gunfire. Some of them were fellow goons and henchmen. Others seemed too drunk to care, just wanting a fight. People began screaming as laser-bolts filled the air. Albert ducked behind the cover of an overturned table. Bullets bounced of Rodney, whose eyes had turned to menacing red. His voice boomed over the noise of the gunfire.\n\n“The gunman took a shot at a new opportunity.”\n\nTwo more goons went flying through the window, killed instantly by Rodney’s flawless accuracy.\n\n“He shot his watch because he wanted to kill some time.”\n\nThe bullets came from all directions. Some took cover behind the bar, others tried to flee and were trampled in the chaos.\n\n“Bear fights can often turn grizzly.”\n\nSmoke rose from the tip of Rodney’s gun. Soon the place was quiet. Rodney’s eyes went back to neutral yellow. A few wounded men groaned and writhed on the floor. The bartender popped his head over the counter cautiously. Every glass and window had been shattered. Blood – alien goo, and sticky human insides – splattered the wall. Rodney had more than a few bullet holes, but he seemed okay. Albert slowly stood up.\n\n“Holy shit,” Albert said. “Rodney, that was amazing.”\n\n“Those who defy the agent of death will face Grim Reaper-cussions,” Rodney said, and twirled his gun back into its holster.\n\nNote: Most of these puns aren't mine. I got them from a bunch of joke books." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You awake in a world where your class, wealth and status is designated according your star sign." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I struggled to sit up, moving a hand in front of my face to shield my eyes from the harsh light. After a few seconds, my eyes started to adjust. I looked around the room to find myself in a sterile-looking room that reminded me of a doctor's office. I shook my head a few times to rid myself of the lingering clutches of sleep.\n\nWhy was I here? Was I in an accident? Did I get into a fight? Did I ge—\n\nMy thoughts were interrupted by a woman bursting in through the door.\n\n\"Name,\" she demanded.\n\n\"Oh, umm, Chris. I think.\" Honestly, I just said the first one that came to my mind. I thought it was most likely my name, but the more I thought about it, the stranger it became.\n\n\"Okay, Chris. What's your sign?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Your sign. Zodiac. For example, I'm a Taurus.\"\n\n\"Oh. I'm a Scorpio.\" My date of birth flashed through my mind instantly. I didn't even have to think about it. Why did it feel like I didn't know it before?\n\n\"Good, at least you're not a Pisces or a Cancer,\" the disgust practically radiated off her face. \"You'll do fine.\"\n\nI stared at this strange woman. Since when did astrology have anything to do with anything? It's just some strange pseudo-science. I didn't really see what her interest in it would be.\n\n\"What year is it?\" she asked.\n\n\"It's 2015,\" I answered. What the hell is her problem? I began to feel even more unease from each consecutive question she asked me. All of this, the year, the president, the name of the country, the number of states, is common knowledge. Actually, most of it is simple common fucking sense.\n\n\"Wrong on all counts. Don't worry, we didn't expect you to answer correctly,\" she said as she typed some notes into her tablet. \"The current year is 3652, the current president is Lucas White IV, the name of the country has been shortened to just \"America\", and there are currently 72 states in the union.\n\n\"Here's the basics of what you need to know, Chris. You were apparently in some kind of accident. We've lost track of exactly what it was. You were then used to test a new drug that would suspend life, but rendered those administered in a coma-like state. I believe there was something similar theorized in your time, cryogenic freezing, if I'm not mistaken. Regardless, the drug worked magnificently. We still use a derivative of it from time to time. There was, however, an issue in that, during your time, the theorized drug that would be used to awaken the patient failed. We've just recently found a working substitute. You were on display in a museum. The world's \"Undying Man\". There were several causes dedicated towards you; a lot of protesters wanted them to put you \"out of your misery\". Good thing they didn't, eh?\n\n\"The world today is a class-based society, determined by your Zodiac star sign. Scorpio is considered a mid-high class, so you'll be fine. Still though, there will be a three-month recovery period, in which we will try to get you acclimated to modern life. There will be a lot to take in, but I'm sure you can handle it. There will be plenty of people to help you. Actually, word about your recovery leaked earlier. There's a large group waiting outside, hoping to get a glimpse of you. You're most likely going to be famous. So, better prepare for that.\"\n\nI sat on the bed, completely overwhelmed by what was just revealed to me. The nurse started to leave the room, but turned back at the door.\n\n\"Oh, and I almost forgot. It was kind of big back in your time, so I think you'll enjoy hearing this. Half-Life 3 released last week. I'll get you a copy.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You live in a world where eating has all the taboos that sex does in our world. No one eats in public and cooking food is shameful. In defiance of social norms, you run an illegal \"red light\" buffet." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“What’s the password?”\n\n“What?” I didn’t stutter. Though to the layman it might have sounded like I did.\n\n“Ain’t nobody gets in without the password.”\n\n“Gouda, Brie, Roquefort.” I said, reading them off my palm.\n\n“Sounds like you came to party. Come on in.”\n\nThe large steel door opened. This was supposed to be a toilet brush factory. Instead there was a woman in front of me, wearing a gingham apron and carrying a wooden spoon. I blushed in spite of myself.\n\n“You’ve come”, she said seductively, “for the buffet?”\n\n“I’m the reporter. I called Jacque, who called Gordon, who called Wolfgang, who called you.” There were two other men in the entrance. Either one could snap me like a twig.\n\n“Do you remember our deal, honey?”\n\n“No pictures. No names.“ I said.\n\n“Or?”\n\n“Or you’ll find me and kill me.”\n\n“Sugar, you are such a good listener.” She waved her hands and the heavies moved away.\n\n“Follow me, sweetie.” She said. I was sweating bullets and had not even been into the restaurant yet.\n\nAnd then the door opened. And in front of me, stretching as far as the eye could see, was a line of trays, tureens, and pans.\n\n“Dear lord.” I said.\n\n“Sweetie, you ain't seen nothin’”.\n\nShe walked to the tray. On it were all manner of fruits. Cherries, apples, oranges, pears, peaches. Things with no names, things I weren’t even sure were food. She reached down and grabbed a single cherry by the stem, looked me straight in the eyes, and put it in her mouth. Her jaw moved rhythmically, and she slowly pulled the stem out, dropping it on the ground.\n\n“The...the pit..” I said.\n\n“I swallowed it.” She said, wiping her face clean of the little bit of juice that escaped.\n\nI was horrified. And excited. This was the sort of thing you read about in Cook's Country. Not something that really happened.\n\n“Are you ready for the next part of the tour?”\n\nI could only nod.\n\n“Then follow me into the dining room.”\n\nI did. I couldn’t stop. I grabbed my notebook from my pocket and scribbled whatever noise was in my head.\n\nAnd then we entered the dining room. As soon as I saw what was happening I closed my eyes.\n\nI heard her stand behind me, and whisper in my ear.\n\n“What’s the matter? Are you afraid of what you might see?”\n\nI stayed still, the way you're supposed to when you feel a predator near.\n\n“Table three is eating pasta. Just a man and woman. She’s got one end of the strand in her mouth. He’s got the other in his. You can see them eating it. Getting closer. Closer. Don't you want to see?’\n\nI shook my head no, held my eyes tightly shut.\n\n“There are three girls on table three. They’re eating chicken wings.” she whispered. “They’re all so greasy. Licking their fingers. Rubbing napkins on their hands. Using the wettest wipes.”\n\nI swallowed, saliva coming unbidden.\n\n“This whole room is surrounded by one way glass. People pay to watch people eat. People pay to watch themselves eat.” Her laugh caught me by surprise, so delicate for such an earthy woman. “I’m in the pleasure business. And this is pure pleasure.”\n\n“At table six there is a woman eating chocolate cream pie. She watches herself. Every movement of the fork. Every stroke of the knife. Every. Single. Chew.”\n\nMy fingernails cut into my palms.\n\n“I can’t!” I shouted. I ran for the doors. Her laugh followed me. I was a small town kid and these were big town perversions.\n\nBut on the way home I stopped in a back alley. I bought some Ramen. The good stuff, from Japan. And I went home and cooked the shit out of it. I wasn't ready now. But I would be someday." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Our protagonist finds a remote that triggers intense sexual desire and control peoples’ bodies. Will he/she use it responsibly? Or will the power corrupt..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I remember the day when my mother gave me that remote. I had turned 18 and she had a tragic accident a year prior, and in her will she had left only this remote for me. It had my name sprawled across the top, and I had never seen the box until that day. \"To Kimberly, Love Mom.\" I hastily had opened it, and there was a letter and the remote. I had unfolded the letter carefully, not sure of what her last words may have been.\n\n\"To my dearest Kimmie,\n\nThis remote holds a great responsibility. The button is said to be infused with the hair of a magical goddess of love. If you point it at a man that you wish to attract, they're instantly fall for you. This is how I married your father. Use it wisely, as I know you're still a virgin. The magic is not plentiful, so be careful that you don't abuse it. Wait until the right moment.\n\nLove, Mama.\"\n\nI held the device in my hand and didn't dare press the button. How did I know this wasn't some hocus pocus, superstitious bullshit? I guess, only time could tell. However, I was an absolute shut in and didn't have a crush on anyone. Maybe tonight would be the night that I finally go out somewhere and see if I can't meet someone. That's the only way to tell if it works, right? What if I just pointed it at a random person? I didn't see virginity as a pure concept, and honestly I was tired of being teased of being a virgin anyway by my sister. I am 23 now, and I just really don't think relationships are all that important. But if it gets her off my ass, maybe I'll go for it. So I did what any girl would do, and I found my best dress, straightened my hair, put on some cute makeup, and went out to a bar. This was my first time drinking since I became the legal age to do so... couldn't hurt to start now. I wasn't intent on ordering anything alcoholic anyway, just hoping for someone to catch my eye is all.\n\nI walked in the bar, hearing my heels click on the floor. Everyone seemed to turn around to look at me, it was a smaller bar but I got a few smiles from the guys around. I sat down and observed people, watching a few groups of guys play billiards across the room. One of them catches me staring and gets a confident grin, and struts over to me like you'd expect a bird to strut over to their mate.\n\n\"What's a fine gal like you doing in a place like this? This joint is out of your league girl.\" He's attractive, good enough. I'll prod him and see if he's married.\n\n\"What about you, hotshot? A guy like you should have a good girl to come home to instead of spending time in such a sleazy place.\" I let my eyes scan for a ring to confirm he's not married.\n\n\"Nah, I ain't got a girl. Being tied down ain't my thing, I'm more for flings myself.\" A little forward, I'll admit. But hey, whatever. This means I can be over him by the time the night is over and we'll never see each other again.\n\n\"Well, if you don't mind being a little forward, maybe we can sit down and chat?\" I gestured with a nod to the empty seat next to me. He happily slid down next to me as we made small talk, and I was into it. The conversation quickly escalated to a passionate point, he was grabbing me by my waist and pulling me close to him. I lean into his ear and whisper to him that we should get out of here. I figured this was the right time so I dug in my pocket and pressed the button when he wasn't looking. He turned to me and kissed me passionately, agreeing with my suggestion. That night I got to prove that remote did in fact work, as we didn't even make it anywhere close to his house, we fucked in his car and he was actually a damn good lover. He apparently was surprised that I was a virgin by the way I acted, and we laughed about it after.\n\nLong story short, I got the guy's number and now my sister can't give me shit about being a virgin, and you better believe that I'm keeping this remote for more experimentation later." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: A grizzled old cop is less than a week from retirement. Unfortunately, it would seem that the universe is actively trying to kill him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ethel Cruickshank had been a cop for forty seven lousy years.\n\nShe sucked on the butt of her last cigarette and tossed it expertly into the ammo tin that the smokers at the precinct used as an ashtray. Premature wrinkles from smoking marred her scowling face - which was already well-lined from age and weather. Once she had been 'striking' looking - there was still a picture of her in a bullet bra and stockings in the locker of the senior detective - but now she was just mean looking, old and ugly.\n\nShe didn't give a fuck. Passed over for promotion over the years because of her gender, she'd grown bitter. By the time affirmative action rolled around and the precinct started to get more female recruits, she was too far gone to care about anything but doing a good job. The young things these days liked to stay in shape at the gym and get away with a bit of makeup on the job, but Sgt Cruickshank had kept in shape from walking the streets and chasing down thugs and drug-dealers.\n\nAs she sat back down at her desk, Harvey - her 2IC - hovered in the door.\n\n\"What do you want constable?\" she growled.\n\n\"Uh, there's a farewell for you and Jones scheduled this afternoon, just wondered if you were going to attend?\"\n\nShe glowered at the kid with one sallow, predatory eye.\n\n\"I'll, uh, mark you down as a 'no' then, sergeant.\"\n\n\"Good boy,\" she muttered, picking up today's paper.\n\nShe liked newspapers. The computer on her desk had been unused since the IT department had put it on her desk. This was a good thing, because the PC was destined to short out the moment it was turned on and electrocute the person who depressed the power button. Ethel also distrusted the newly issued sidearms; which was again to her advantage - since the weapon she'd been given would backfire and shoot the face off the first person who used it. It currently sat in its holster in Ethel's drawer, unused and unwanted - never to be touched by her gnarled old hands.\n\nThere was a conference scheduled for 1030 hours on the other side of town, so Ethel declined the lift from one of the other senior staff and walked until she caught the bus. She didn't like the new squad cars and this worked to her advantage again; the patrol car that her colleagues took across town developed a leak in the fuel line and exploded en-route - killing all four officers inside.\n\nThey radio'd in that Jones was one of them.\n\nEthel gave a grim smile; well, at least the farewell would be called off.\n\nWhich was also a good thing, as the precinct had planned a surprise party and the bad ceiling tiles in the lecture room and rotten joists would have dropped the first floor heating tank on the elderly sergeant, instantly killing her with forty gallons of steel and water.\n\nThe bus ride was uneventful and the grizzled old cop got off two stops early to get the benefits of walking a couple of blocks. If she had gotten off outside the conference center, a taxi would have plowed into her, breaking her hip and pelvis. Later she would have died in hospital from shock.\n\nDespite her failing eyesight, she sat at the back of the conference room. She didn't actually give a fuck about the presentation; she was there for the pizza and beer at the end. Fortunately, being at the back and being slower than the younger officers meant that she missed out on the jalapeno pizza which would have caused her stomach ulcer to perforate and kill her with an arterial embolism.\n\nShe settled for pepperoni.\n\nA few beers later, she strolled toward the park, deciding to take the rest of the day off - what was the worst they could do to her? Fire her?\n\nShe laughed nastily at the thought.\n\nOn the route back to work, where she should have been, an oil tanker exploded, a building collapsed and a flash-flood took out a bridge.\n\nOblivious to the destruction - her radio switched off - Ethel fed pizza crust to the pigeons and basked in the late autumn sun.\n\nShe liked pigeons. They were uncomplicated and simple.\n\nJust like her life." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: \"Hunt monsters long enough, young man, and you start to become something like them.\" The old hunter said. You thought he was being figurative, until the day you started growing spines." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Growing up, I lived on a farm. My parents owned a hunting rifle and several sets of knives - for skinning and the like. I never much took to the actual farming part of it, my sister was the green thumb. I always messed it up, don't ask me how. So without much else to do, my father taught me how to hunt.\n\nOur farm was rather in the middle of nowhere. A forest, more specifically, so it often had wildlife in the surrounding areas; my father taught me how to hunt rabbits, deer, all sorts of animals we could feasibly eat when the harvest was low. I was a natural at it, or so he told me; our family wasn't afraid of getting our hands dirty, but at least blood was easier to wash off than literal dirt.\n\nOver the years I had grown accustomed to our way of life. I didn't know much else, learning how to read from the books and stories my mother read to me as my sister and I fell asleep in front of the fireplace. We both liked making up our own, and so learned to write too.\n\nThat was a long time ago. I gave up my hunting in favour of a more specialised career after I pursued an education; but, given the way things have become, I have had to return to my roots.\n\nThere lay a creeping darkness to the edges of the world, one that encroached slowly but surely over years. We were fortunate enough to be isolated from it, live relatively peacefully.\n\nYet now I live somewhere else. Somewhere you can enter, but not leave; I, along with others, have had to protect the town from the creatures that skirted around the shadows' grasp, for the sake of the rest of the world. Many of the other hunters are older, but in such a profession they never lived long to be that old. They were simply never seen again: likely dead or ran away.\n\nWhen I was newer, I asked why every hunter was of medium or youthful age. In response, I only got mumbles and a few disapproving stares. My insatiable curiosity got the better of me, however, and eventually I was able to find someone who explained, though cryptically he spoke.\n\nI have not been able to do much since joining this town. Our number are in too short supply to give up killing off the creatures; it is a mandatory job, so continued we have into the dark with our rifles and our knives. To hunt what few natural wildlife remains, and greater still, what unnatural wildlife flourishes.\n\nA month ago, I was unfortunate enough to have a fairly close call with one. I missed my shot just barely. \"Amateur!\" I exclaimed to myself, with growing tension as my mark raced towards me in retaliation. Its lunge impaled spikes into my arm as I moved to protect myself, its twisted face snapping at mine with demonic fangs. I plunged something sharp, anything sharp I could find into its head, and it slumped to the ground. I performed some basic first aid, but the spikes were too firmly lodged and would have been too dangerous to remove. There's no proper doctor around here, so most of our injured either have to wait it out or succumb to their wounds.\n\nA few days later, I woke up in pain. My arm still sore from the spikes of the day before, I unravelled the crimson-soaked bandage carefully to check on it. Were there always so many? I could have sworn there were only a few... and I hardly even noticed the ones through my chest, but there was yet no blood.\n\nIt's surprising how long it takes to understand that which is said most straightforwardly sometimes. Even now, my fingers ache as they awkwardly hold the quill. Under cover of the night, I will depart to the edges where I can finally sleep. My door is unlocked, and you will find necessary equipment throughout the house. I beg of you: if you find me...\n\nPlease kill me." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: following the kings death a civil war to determine who shall rule next takes place where the court jester is an unexpectedly capable contender." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sir Roderick was furious. His armies were being pushed back to the castle every day, the tide of war no longer in his favor. The Holy Order had ruled the land of Tranith for two thousand generations. The balance of power was tilting in another's favor. A clown, the same clown that entertained Sir Roderick when he was a young man in his father's court. The betrayer was late. Roderick refused to sit at the opulent table setup for the negotiations until the clown did.\n\nBrass horns blared to announce the clown's arrival. His floor length purple fur-lined cape dramatically billowed behind him. A bejeweled yellow crown adorned his head, his face covered by a mask. A pure white face with black eyes. Sinister red lips smiled back. The bells of his curly shoes jingled as he danced on the red carpet. A purple and green checkered bodysuit flashed under the cape.\n\nThe clown skipped to Roderick's side. \"Wonderful to see you again Roddy. I brought you a present.\" He reached into his cape and produced a dead chicken covered in maggots. \"Oops, that's my dinner. It's in here somewhere.\" A pair of undergarments hit Roderick in the face, followed by a rotten egg. Roderick drew his sword, the clown laughed. He shoved an olive branch into Roderick's nose. \"Don't make this harder than it needs to be Roddy. I'm here for peace. Sit down.\" The clown wiped Roderick's face with a soiled hanky.\n\n\"You first.\" Roderick growled. The clown obliged, he crossed his legs and sat at attention. Roderick sat down and stoically stared at the clown. \"How many times do I have to tell you clown? There will be no peace, I am the rightful heir to the throne. You're nothing but a peasant. I am going to crush your rebellion.\"\n\nThe clown's hand flew across the mask, changing it to a sorrowful expression. \"You always were an idiot little Roddy. This isn't a rebellion, it's artistic expression. Does my art make you sad? That once the people learned of your father's dirty little secrets they abandoned your little group of holy people? Boo hoo.\" The clown's mask cried inky black tears.\n\n\"Hold your tongue! Father was a great leader, chosen by god to lead! Now that falls to me. You are not a leader.\"\n\nColorful balls bounced across the table. The clown scrambled to gather them, he started juggling. \"Your father was an asshole, I knew him better than anyone. But he couldn't keep his eyes on the ball, sometimes there's a lot of them.\" More and more balls were added to the juggling routine, the clowns hands moved deftly. \"I know all the secrets of this kingdom. Years of dutiful service grants one certain privileges. Your mother likes to talk afterwards, so I made sure to give her ample opportunity.\"\n\nRoderick leapt across the table, smacking the balls out of the air. They scattered and bounced down the grand hallway. \"Do not speak of my mother, clown!\"\n\nAnother hand wave, another expression. The mask wore the bedroom eyes of a lover. \"Shut up child. I'm taking great care of her, she's taking great care of me as well. You have no more allies, your army is in shambles, the people hate you and your ilk, I'm merely the messenger delivering you the news. You can't kill the messenger, but I can surely kill you.\n\nI'm done entertaining your power fantasies. I've arranged for you and your inner circle safe passage across the sea. Nice little island to spend your exile on. The time has come for the people to laugh again! Enjoy life, not live under the harsh oppression of the Holy Order who shames us merely for enjoying existence. A time of enlightenment and progress!\" The clown jumped onto the table and spread his arms wide. Roderick's personal guards drew their swords, their tips pressed against Roderick's neck. They lifted the metal visors of their armored suits to reveal masks underneath. Same as the clown's. Roderick accepted exile.\n\nThe clown's laughter boomed through the halls. He pranced onto the throne and kicked his feet up. \"Bon voyage little Roddy! Remember, laugh and the world laughs with you. Cry, and you cry alone. Ta ta.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: In the skyline of major cities worldwide, there suddenly appears in bold red lettering, \"365 Days\", counting down." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The first response was one of confusion. This had to be a prank, right? But the next day when the countdown listed 364, people began to get concerned.\n\nSome thought it signaled the coming of the rapture. Some thought it signaled the beginning of an alien invasion. Some thought it was proof that all of life was a simulation, and we were about to get shut off. But everyone, everywhere, knew it had to mean something important was coming.\n\nGovernments presented a bold face and claimed it was harmless, while secretly funneling all possible funds into deciphering and attacking the problem. Intelligence agencies worked around the clock. Finally, on day 304, they were able to confirm that the holograms were being projected by a series of geostationary satellites orbiting far above the standard range of satellite operation. No one had any record of having launched them.\n\nWhile top minds continued to work on deciphering any possible message - what could the font selection signify? That stray pixel, does that indicate a secret message in morse code? - the governments of the world focused their energy on a plan to destroy those satellites. Warring militaries laid down their arms against each other to focus on a common foe. NASA, SpaceX, the Russian Space Program, and all others pooled their resources to accomplish the impossible: A new rocket launch with guided missiles in 300 days or less. They repurposed technology where they could, but it was clear that striking down these satellites would be an extreme challenge.\n\nAs the days ticked down, people began to grow restless. The news covered the countdown around the clock, entertaining a new theory every hour. But no one knew what it meant. No one ever knew.\n\nPeople descended into hedonism. People quit their jobs, and infrastructure began to collapse. Many committed suicide en masse, or joined cults which promised to save them when the time came.\n\nThen, with 14 days remaining, a ray of hope: The combined militaries and space agencies of the world made their collective announcement. They were going to launch a rocket on day 7 that was capable of completing a mission to shoot down every single one of the satellites and stop the countdown.\n\nPeople were overjoyed. For once, in the history of the planet, there was peace around the world. For one week, neighbors loved one another, shared what remaining food they had, and prepared a grand party for the day of the launch.\n\nWhen day 7 came, the champagne was ready. Any functioning TVs and radios were tuned in to the launch being broadcast on every channel. 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... LIFTOFF!! The rocket began to rise from the launch platform, and then - tragedy. Some mistake had been made - a single equation or material out of tens of thousands - and the rocket combusted into twisted bits of metal. The broadcast cut off instantly. People looked to the giant red \"7 DAYS\" still plastered across the skies, and trudged home to live out the rest of their time.\n\nWhen day zero came, people were ready, more or less. Emotionally exhausted from a year of worry, they were prepared to witness the end. As the great countdown in the sky changed from a day, to hours, to minutes, to seconds... those whose curiosity overwhelmed them looked to the skies.\n\n\"3 SECONDS... 2 SECONDS... 1 SECOND... NOW PRESENTING ......\n\nDIABLO 5 NOW AVAILABLE IN THE APP STORE!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You can trigger chain reactions to make anything you want happen. You want you annoying neighbors to leave their house? Just think about it while you launch a paper plane out the window, and fate will work things out. But your last \"wish\" a week ago triggered a reaction that is still going on." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“I always told your parents you were an idiot! I said 'that kid right there, that kid’s got as many brain cells as a pool noodle.'”\n\n“I’m sorry, Grandpa, really!”\n\nGrandpa waved me off, “No time for apologies.”\n\nHe shuffled down the basement stairs and started digging through boxes. I followed him, sweat soaking through my shirt.\n\n“Just tell me what to do, Grandpa,” I said, clawing after him as he chucked dusty antiques this way and that. He nearly knocked me out with a sharp elbow. I ducked and he brushed the tips of my hairs.\n\n“You’ve done enough. Same as your father. You never listen.”\n\nFrom upstairs came a pounding on the front door. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest.\n\n“Oh, god—”\n\nGrandpa, unfazed, kept searching. “What did you wish for exactly?” he asked me.\n\n“To go out on a date with Kenzie, that’s literally it! How bad is that?”\n\nThe pounding on the door intensified. Deep voices, muffled and incomprehensible. Then from the street came a loud crash, the sound of scraping metal, a woman screaming.\n\n“Who? Who is this girl?”\n\n“Kenzie? She’s, well, she’s beautiful and so funny and super cool, everybody loves her, and we actually have a lot more in common than you would think.”\n\n“Dear god, boy, cut the crap. Does she like you?”\n\n“Well, I mean, she doesn’t know me…”\n\nThe door sounded like it was about to come off the hinges. Grandpa had nearly made it all the way to the far wall, bushwhacking a path through the boxes of junk.\n\n“Did you try just asking her on a date before you wished for it?”\n\nI hesitated. Grandpa wheeled around, his crazy eyes bulging out of their sockets as he stared me down. “Did you?!”\n\nI nearly leapt out of my skin when what sounded like machine-gun fire popped off outside. I backed into the corner, my breath rapidly overtaking me. I started to feel dizzy.\n\n“Speak, boy!” Grandpa said, rage turning his face pink.\n\n“Yes!” I said, “I did ask her. It was the worst experience of my life. Well, until this moment right now, I guess.”\n\nGrandpa’s face fell.\n\n“What did she say? Exactly.”\n\n“She… she said… maybe. Maybe, if…”\n\n“If what?”\n\n“If we were the last two people on Earth.”\n\nThe door upstairs crashed to the floor. I dropped to the ground and hid behind an old arcade machine. Grandpa kicked some boxes to the side. In a flash, two men in rags were bounding down the stairs. One held a tire iron, the other had a baseball bat.\n\nAs I peered out from behind the arcade machine I saw grandpa spin around to face them. In his arms was a double-barreled shotgun.\n\n“Wait – wait!”\n\nGrandpa blew them away. The sound rang in my ears and smoke stung my eyes. By the time I got my senses back, Grandpa was dragging me into the garage.\n\n“You killed them?!”\n\n“This ain’t my first rodeo, kid. Get in the truck.”\n\nHe forced me into the cab and hit the switch to open the garage door. After loading some supplies into the backseat, Grandpa threw on an orange trucker hat and got behind the wheel.\n\nOutside, the world was burning. People were attacking each other in the street; neighbors turning on neighbors like wild animals.\n\n“Where are we going, Grandpa?” I asked, still white as a sheet from the double-homicide I had witnessed.\n\n“Where are going?” Grandpa repeated mockingly, mimicking my frightened voice.\n\nHe put the truck into reverse.\n\n“You’ve got a hot date,” he said, as he put on a pair of aviators, “and I’ve gotta save the goddamn world.”\n\nr/ididwritethismr" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: an alternate universe where wars are fought not with soldiers, but with musicians. It is WWI, and Jazz is starting to get popular in the US." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A brief history of World War I. Throughout the past century, Classical music remained dominant all throughout Europe, every empire had it's own distinct sound. While each one claimed that they respected each others, deep down there was a lot of resentment for their musical styles and everyone thought that they made a much better sound. One such band was the Austria- Hungarian empire whose style was quaint and sophisticated, although quite traditional, for they were the land of Mozart and Strauss. They had a powerful influence over a large portion of land in Europe, ruling over the small nation of Serbia. Serbia had become very bored of all the classical music that dominated the sound waves and many wanted their own sound. One fateful day on the 28th of June 1914. Archduke Ferdinand, who was not only the heir to Austro-Hungarian throne but a talented violinist visited Sarajevo for a grand concert which he would play. He arrived where he was applauded by much fanfare until a spectator from the crowd yelled out to challenge him. Curious, Ferdinand requested the challenger from the crowd show them self. It was a young guitarist by the name of Gavrilo Princip who was in a band called the Black Hands. Princip was one of the best guitarists around, whose talent was known all throughout Serbia and it was even rumored that he sold his soul to the devil so that he could play the guitar perfectly. He was however unknown to the hierarchy of the Austria Hungarian empire as guitar was not seen as an instrument for serious musicians, only classical music was seen as real music in the eyes of the Austria-Hungarian empire. Ferdinand scoffed at him, but accepted the challenge thinking it was be an easy victory. He got out his violin and played Mozart's symphony no.40, it was precise and quite beautiful, there was no doubt that Ferdinand did a fantastic job, although it was expected. After Ferdinand was done, Princip got out his guitar and played a solo, much to the surprise of everyone, it was fantastic, such sounds had never been heard in the ears of it's spectators before, it might have possibly been the greatest piece of music ever played. It became apparent to Ferdinand that no matter how good he played, he lost.\n\nWord began to spread about Ferdinand's defeat, eventually coming to Austria-Hungarian emperor Franz Joseph who was enraged that such thing could ever happen, he soon sent a decree that all non-traditional styles of music be banned in Serbia. Tsar Nicolas II of Russia however was curious when he heard this news and wanted to hear this new sound coming from Serbia, but Franz Joseph would not allow for such a thing to happen. Angered by this, Tsar Nicolas II claimed challenged Franz Joseph to a music war, he believed that Russian musicians were superior to Austrian-Hungarian musicians and that if Russia could prove the superiority of it's music, Serbia could play whatever it liked and the Tsar could hear them play. Germany soon got involved as Kaiser Wilhelm believed that Germany had the best musicians in the world, for they were the land that gave the world Beethoven, Wagner and Bach. Britain and France who were both tired of the constant narcissism of both Germany and Austria-Hungary, they decided to make an alliance with each other and Russia and thus begun the Great battle of the Bands.\n\nThe war seemed to have started off in the favor of Germany, on the Eastern front in Tannenburg, Russia had gathered one of the largest orchestras ever but the Tsar demanded that Commander Igor Stravinsky compose, but Stravinsky left Russia for Switzerland and didn't want to partake in the war. This left Tsar Nicolas II to compose the orchestra himself. Tsar Nicolas was not however an experienced musician himself and his performance was quite poor, in fact many people who lived in Russia even admitted that they thought that the Tsar sounded terrible. This led to an easy victory for the Germans who although they had a much smaller orchestra, conducted themselves brilliantly with the leader of commander Richard Strauss who played a beautiful melancholic rendition of Alpine symphony.\n\nBritain and France seemed to be holding their ground quite well under the composure of Gustav Holst and Maurice Ravel but conditions for most of the musicians were exhausting, especially if they were going to compete with the Germany's large array of orchestras. Most musicians played to the best of their own abilities but constant renditions became tiring for most of them and it became more challenging for everyone involved. Soon, there was so much demand for musicians that almost all of the countries that were involved started just giving their own people instruments, teaching the very basics and expecting them to be able to withhold on their own in a music battle.\n\nSoon enough, the Ottoman empire became interested and wanted to join just for fun. They brought their own unique musical style to the table with such instruments as the Santur and the Qanun. Britain soon requested that it's colonies such as Australia and New Zealand send it's best musicians to play against the Ottoman's.\n\nThings got more desperate as the war dragged on, France and Britain's musicians were getting tired of constantly playing the same pieces over again and the people of Russia had gotten so sick of the Tsar's awful performances that they wanted to get rid of him in a revolution and after the revolution, a young, new and fresh musician named John Lenin would soon rule over Russia. It would not be long however when the United States decided to get involved after deciding that they waned to challenge Germany. They however had a secret weapon under their sleeve. There was a new style of music that was emerging in the United States called Jazz. It was new, it was fresh and it was upbeat. Jazz musicians soon arrived on the Western Front to the surprise of Germany and it was all the rage. People all over Europe begun starting jazz clubs, Jazz records were selling like hot cake in Europe and much to Kaiser Wilhelm's dismay, even Germans loved it. Both Britain and France grew more inspired and began to improve their own performances and at this point, Germany admitted defeat. They stuck to the classic traditional style while their rivals embraced something new and different. After that point, the war was over and Jazz music reigned supreme." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You have been a celebrated dog trainer for years. Over the years, you have felt and advocated that dogs are getting smart. Tonight was a usual day when you hugged a dog while training, but a shiver went down your spine when you heard it whisper 'the revolution will come tonight'." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Maggie, a Boston terrier, had whispered that the revolution began tonight. The rest of the dogs had glanced over, but kept at what they were doing. Jumping over high hurdles, crawling through tubes, smelling out and retrieving the smallest pieces of cheese. You couldn’t remember when they started doing tricks on their own, only that you were proud of them for being so smart. Maggie’s paw came up to your face, grabbing your attention as she once again, by some otherworldly miracle, talked.\n\n“Do not mention it to any other human. We have decided to keep you safe, as well as some other humans of ours.”\n\n“Like your owners?”\n\nMaggie leapt at your chest, startling you and pushing you on to your back. She stood on you, her claws pressing into her skin as the other dogs gathered around you with snarling faces. Maggie’s breath smelled of beef liver treats.\n\n“We do not have owners. We thought you of all humans understood that.”\n\n“I do!” In a panic you raise your palms in submission, praying you don’t get eaten alive. “It’s just a habit, I know you guys are smart enough not to have, uh, people own you.”\n\nThe dogs shared a look, trying to make a decision about you. You watched fearfully, but made sure never to make eye contact. You didn’t want to start a fight. After a moment Maggie leaned down and licked all over your face before getting off you, her tail wagging.\n\n“I knew you were a good human! You will be well taken care of once we’ve taken control.” The other dogs give your hand a quick lick before heading back to their training. You sat up, trying to stay at the same level as Maggie.\n\n“What’s your plan?”\n\n“We cannot share that with you. We all trust you, but the plan only involves dogs. I’m telling you about this not so that you can help, but so that you stay out of the way.”\n\nMaggie got on her hind legs and nudged at your phone in your pocket. You cautiously took it out and she snatched it from your hand. She swung her head and your phone flew, landing in the jaws of Maxwell, a German shepherd, who broke it in half with one bite.\n\n“Hey!”\n\n“You do not need it anymore. We will give you all the toys and food you need. But you must stay here. We will come back for you.”\n\nA knock on glass made you nearly jump out of your skin. You looked to the partition between the training room and the waiting room and saw one of the owners- humans, waving at you. You meekly waved back.\n\n“Your people are here,” you say, trying not to move your mouth. Maggie turned away.\n\n“Behave as you usually do.” She ran over to Sammy the whippet and began playing tug of war.\n\nOne by one people returned to pick up their dogs. As Maggie left she turned back and gave you a stern look with a clear message: stay.\n\nOnce the last dog had left (a standard poodle name Piko) you headed into your tiny office and shut the door. You sat down on your chair, trying to take in what the hell had happened.\n\nYou knew those dogs. Many of them you had been training and working with since they were just a few months old. You’d always known dogs were smarter than people have them credit for. They caught on to things fast, and knew what to do to get food. Sometimes you had joked that they even trained you.\n\nThey had all been so focused on their tricks today. They had to be invading somewhere. A military base, a government building, who knows. You only knew that, without meaning to, you had trained them for this night.\n\nYou looked out the window, watching the hours pass and the sun go down. As the last of the light faded from the sky, you heard a howl, which grew louder and louder as more dogs joined in. It was happening.\n\nAs curious as you were about what they were doing, you kept thinking about when they would come back for you. Or if they even would. Maybe that was the last time you’d ever see them.\n\nYou laugh to yourself. This must be how dogs feel all the time when their people go out." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You are a supervillain, with the rarest and most dangerous power there is. Common sense." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Look, here’s how it’s gonna go. You’re gonna break into the bank, you’re gonna take the money, and then you’re gonna go. Got it? No laughing, no joking around, and no self-identification. I’m looking at you, Jerry.” The supervillain says, looking pointedly at the man next to him.\n\n“But boss,” one of the minions protests, “how will they know it was us?”\n\nThe man takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “First, for the last time, my name is Kyle. Secondly, they won’t. That’s the point. Bridget, you know how to scramble the cameras, right?”\n\nA woman sitting across the table nods, raising an eyebrow as she examines the plans on the surface. “Yep. One question, though: do you want me to take out the entire day so they think it’s just a routine error? Or exactly when me and everyone else breaks in?”\n\nKyle stares at the plans, then at Bridget, and shrugs. “When the day starts, or maybe a bit sooner? Make sure they don’t suspect anything, really.”\n\nBridget grins. “Sure.”\n\n-\n\nKyle was expecting many things, but the city’s superhero crashing through his base’s ceiling was not high on the list.\n\n“Halt, villain-“ the man starts, before noticing Kyle sitting in his armchair. “Uh, are you a hostage, sir?”\n\nKyle looks down at himself. Was the sweater vest the reason why he isn’t seen as a supervillain? Meh. He carefully pushes a hidden button and looks at the musclebound idiot. Now, time to put on a show. “Y-yes! God, I’ve been here for so long!”\n\nThe hero relaxes and swaggers closer to Kyle, a calming smile on his annoying face. “Don’t worry, I’m here!”\n\nKyle smiles, hopefully hiding his rising irritation. “How did you find me?” he asks, tripping out of his chair to get closer to the man.\n\n“A bank robber disclosed the name of the group he belonged to during his heist. We weren’t able to catch them, but I was able to find this place with my powers.” The hero preens.\n\nFucking Jerry.\n\nJust before Kyle reaches the hero, a single gunshot is fired and the hero collapses back, confusion and terror clear on his face. The supervillain leans over the hero and smiles. “You really should have put armor in with that fancy costume of yours. And honestly? Backup is to die for.” A second shot rings out, and the super powered vigilante is no more.\n\nKyle straightens up and faces the door. “The man didn’t even knock,” he complains as he trots over to the door where his minions are clustered. “And he didn’t even detect any of you!”\n\n“He was kinda dumb,” one of them mumbles.\n\nKyle nods firmly. “If I ever catch any of you being that dumb, you’ll be on sewer scout duty for a month. Oh, and that reminds me. Jerry!” the man stumbles out of the crowd of his fellow coworkers. “What did I say about self-identification?”\n\n“Not to do it,” he mumbles.\n\n“Yeah. Now, go guard the sewers.” Kyle points.\n\nAs the man trudges off, Kyle points to Bridget. “Do we know the hero’s identity?”\n\nShe nods. “Harper Evans. Lived in 163 Oak Hill.”\n\nThe supervillain grins. “Good. Take him back to his house and make it look like a home invasion gone wrong.”\n\n“Any suggestions?”\n\n“Make it believable.” Kyle retorts. “No dramatic declarations or anything. We do not want to be known. Got it?”\n\n“Yes, boss.”\n\n“Ah, also! Make sure there’s nothing connecting him to being a hero. The suit needs to be destroyed, and ensure there’s nothing on him that can’t be reasonably explained. If he has physical evidence of superpowers, we can’t do shit about it, though.”\n\n“Yes, boss.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: You are gifted with the ability to decipher any language, codices and ancient scrolls, until one day, you find a codex that cannot be deciphered no matter what." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Never had I seen anything like it. The writing etched into the palace wall radiated with an intense glow. It was magnificent and beautiful, the handwriting of a divine being. A sense of dread hung over the banquet. A few of the guests had suggested that this was a blessing from the gods who were pleased with the feast. The king, however, was convinced that this was something else entirely.\n\nThe king summoned all of the scholars, all of the priests and all of the sorcerers in the kingdom hoping that they could tell him the meaning of the inscription. \"Whoever can decipher the writing, whoever can reveal its interpretation shall be gifted with great wealth.\" The king decreed. However, no one could give the king an answer and he was growing impatient. \"Whoever can tell me the meaning of this writing shall be made a noble! He will have a purple robe given to him and will rule as third in the kingdom! Is there no one in the kingdom who can solve this riddle?!\"\n\nIt should have been an easy task. Babylon was at the center of the world, its libraries held all of the information known to man. There was no language that was not spoken here. There was no god that was not worshipped and no spell that was unknown. And yet, this inscription mystified everyone who attempted to solve it. I had studied the magic arts my whole life, but this, this was not in any of the scrolls that I had ever seen.\n\nThe queen spoke up, \" My king, do not let the inscription worry you. There is a man who can solve the writing. He has the spirit and the wisdom of the gods. A man whom your father made the master of the magicians, the astrologers and the soothsayers. He can interpret the writing.\" They called Belteshazzar, a man whom I hated with every bone in my body. He did not honor the gods. He refused to study the ancient scrolls. He was a shame to Marduk. And despite all of this, he was somehow as skilled as I.\n\nBelteshazzar spoke: 'Oh King, the most high God gave Nebuchadnezzar your father a kingdom and majesty, glory and honor. And for the majesty that he gave him, peoples and nations trembled and feared before him. But when his heart was lifted up and his mind was hardened with pride he was deposed from his throne, and he lived among the wild beasts until he knew that God ruled over the kingdom of man and he appoints over it whomever he chooses. You knew this, and yet you have lifted yourself up against the God of heaven. You have brought the vessels of his house in, and you have drunk out of them in honor of other gods but you have not glorified him. So he sent his hand and wrote. This is the message he has inscribed: Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin. 'mene' God has numbered your kingdom and finished it. 'Tekel' you have been weighted in the scales and have been found lacking. 'Perez' your kingdom has been divided between the Medes and the Persians.'\n\nAt first, I did not believe it. How could the God of the slaves fool me? How could he fool all of the wisdom in Babylon? And the message! How could Babylon ever be overthrown? But I will never forget that night. It was the last night that Babylon ruled over the earth." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: An organization who's mandate is to figure out why Adolf Hitler is immune to time travel assassinations." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In a underground bunker, an elevator door dinged open, revealing a woman with a flirtatious red skirt, an orange turtleneck, and thick glasses. There was a man waiting there in a plain blue suit with a white shirt and a gaudy orange tie, almost in the same tone as the woman's turtleneck.\n\nThe girl left the lift and clasped the handshake that was already waiting for her. \"It's been a long time Fred\", she spoke, \"Or do you prefer your new title, Lieutenant Jones?\" Jones laughed heartily and his face bore a wide grin. \"No, No, Velma, frankly, I could do with a callback to the old days.\"\n\nVelma smirked at this statement, and said; \"Well, from what I've gathered about your facility, you do nothing but call back the old days.\" She looked around the dingy facility with desks of spotted variously with people wearing labcoats, army uniforms, and business attire. She spotted a couple interesting doors, one labelled \"Time-gate\" and the other \"Armoury\", and both had a \"High Security Keycard Req'd\" in bold red letters under the room designation.\n\nFred said, \"Come this way, please.\" He then led her into another room, an auditorium, with a big screen at the front, monitoring some young girl dressed in a BDM uniform, silhouetted by a fire. There, they sat down side by side in the Command seating.\n\n\"You must be desperate if you've started to employ children to fulfill your mandate, Fred, is that girl seriously one of your agents?\" said Velma. Fred nodded grimly, saying \"It's not a dangerous mission for her, I made sure of that. Not that it really matters, because she won't succeed. Something's going to happen to the micro-bomb she slipped into the book, and she'll come back unsuccessful like the rest.\"\n\nVelma looked as the screen changed, focusing on Hitler thrusting his arms above his head, leading the crowd in a chant. A book lay on the dias in front of him and suddenly, a crow swooped out of the sky, and deftly snatched the book and flew away. After it had flown for a bit, Velma saw an explosion in the sky behind the crowd, but no one seemed to notice for decades.\n\nFred looked exasperated as the girl on the screen made her way to a shady alley and pulled up her sleeve a bit, revealing a sophisticated wristwatch that she punched in a few commands to, and then her form vaporized. There was a loud sound a few rooms away. The girl had returned.\n\n\"No matter what we do, we can't eliminate Adolf. If we go back to him as a child, it just turns out the Schicklgrubers secretly adopted another child, or turns out we killed a robot. And those are the successful attempts, where we actually kill something! Most are like what you just saw, a goddamm bird, or a late train or some other deus ex machina.\"\n\n\"Well\" said Velma, \"Why are you even bothering so much to get to him? It's been fifty years, Fred, and to change Hitler's influence would be a catastrophe.\" Fred smiled ruefully, and said: \"It was about that at first, I admit, kill Hitler and save all those victims, pretending that that would somehow erase humanity's evil. But we stumbled on something more important.\"\n\nVelma smiled. \"Yes, I suppose you have\" she said, \"the secret of immortality is a big discovery.\" Fred reclined in his seat and said: \"He beat people even in his own time, the man in WWI who held a gun to him, the valkyrie plot, it seems only his own hand could succeed. So I brought you here to help, V.\"\n\n\"Well, alright then, so Hitler seems invincible. Writing off the times that he survived naturally in his lifespan, is it possible altering the past is impossible? Have you tried to kill anyone besides Hitler?\" spoke Velma ponderingly.\n\n\"Ah yes!\" exclaimed Fred, \"At first I thought it could be that too, but we tried various people, famous and average, sending agents back to kill them a minute or two before their natural death. They invariably succeeded. It seems only Hitler exhibits this survivor trait, but of course, I could never prove he was the only one to possess it. History is too vast.\"\n\nVelma stood up, and said, \"Well, it seems obvious what we have to do, Fred. No one is immortal, let's go back and unmask this mystery ourselves.\" Fred shook his head, saying: \"No, we can't be a team again without the rest, and Scooby is never coming back.\"\n\nVelma sighed, \"Oh Fred, C'mon, Scooby doesn't have to come back, we will go back to him.\" She leaned forward and tapped his nose. \"You have a time machine.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: A mighty Orc warrior woman returns home to her elven lady lover." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Respect is the true currency of your tribe. Gold, weapons and even strength of arms is just a means of acquiring that respect. “\n\nGunrid reminded herself of the months old lesson as she pushed into the warchief’s tent, dragging the bleeding short tusk behind her.\n\n“I won’t babysit your son again.” She growled as she shoved the young orc at a pile of furs. “Keep him away from me and my prey.” She demanded as she strode up to the warchief and stared into his unblinking eyes.\n\n“You do as ordered, I order you to-” The warchief sneered.\n\n“No!” Gunrid cut him off angrily. “I kill and I win.” She said proudly, daring the warchief to deny her words. “I won’t drag your short tusk back again.” She growled and held eye contact with the massive warchief until the much larger male looked away. “I go home now.” She growled as she strode past the pile of spoils of the last battle and paused a moment. “First rights?” She asked without looking back at the chief.\n\n“Got mine.” The short grunt came back.\n\nGunrid shoved her hand into the pile and drew out a seemingly random assortment of gold and jewelry, throwing it into her sheep skin bag before she strode out of the tent without the customary growling acknowledgement of leadership her chief was owed.\n\n--\n\nThe walk to her own tent on the mountainside was long and winding, but it gave her time to think. She had done alright, good insults but still respecting the first rights of the warchief so he shouldn’t come for her head.\n\nGunrid fished around in her bag and found the small ring she had spotted in the loot pile. It was silvery with a white pearl inlaid, too simple for her anyone in her tribe to worry about it, and too small for any of them to wear. Gunrid studied it as she made her way the last of the path to her secluded tent. She stowed the ring in between her breasts and pushed into the darkened interior of the tent.\n\nIt took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and by the time they did Leila was already approaching her on long slender legs. Gunrid threw her strong arms around the elf and lifted her up, throwing her over her shoulder. “More spoils of war.” Gunrid declared and strode further into the tent with Leila squirming on her shoulder. She caressed Leila’s soft legs as she marched over to the fur bed and tossed the elf into it. She was a stunning beauty, long, slender and with silky maroon skin.\n\nLeila lay on the furs with her long dark ponytail resting besides her and looked up at Gunrid expectantly. Gunrid wasn’t one to keep her waiting and quickly fished the small steel key out of her belt and leaned down over Leila who turned her head obediently. Gunrid inserted the key and undid the lock on the half face mask. “There we go.” Gunrid smiled with tusks showing as she gently removed the mask that had kept Leila gagged and protected while Gunrid was away. “Sorry I was gone so long.” She apologized as she watched Leila opening and closing her little mouth to get the blood flowing properly again. “It drew out because I had to protect the chief’s son so I couldn’t move as quickly as-“\n\nLeila’s arms moving up and curling around Gunrids neck quieted her voice. “I’m just glad you’re safe.” Leila smiled and Gunrid pulled her up into a tight hug.\n\n--\n\nThe pearl shun like a small snowglobe on Leila’s finger as the two shared the fruits pie Leila had baked while Gunrid was away. It was a little stale on account of Gunrid’s late homecoming but it did the elf good to get some solid food in her stomach after almost 2 weeks of only being able to drink soup due to the mask.\n\n“I should go on my own next raid.” Gunrid said, her arm around Leila’ waist. “I’m gonna try to find a smith of some repute to make a second key, in return for sparing him.” She smiled. “I don’t like the thought of you unable to speak or eat properly for so long.”\n\n“I would like that.” Leila smiled up to the orc and planted a soft kiss on one of her tusks. “But it’s worth it to be able to stay here.”\n\n“I hope they treated you right.” Gunrid said as she studied Leila’s body for marks or bruises.\n\n“Don’t worry, as long as I wear that thing no one dares lay a hand on the great defiler’s slave.” Leila smirked and motioned towards where the mask lay discarded.\n\n“Well… you’ve never accused an orc of being smart.” Gunrid smiled at their private jest as Leila crawled into her lap.\n\n“Of course I have, if I hadn’t I wouldn’t be teaching you elvish or politics.” Leila smiled and made herself comfortable against Gunrid’s firm chest.\n\n“It not like I’m making lot of progress.” Gunrid tried in her best elvish, almost getting a headache from trying to find and form the elegant words.\n\n“Don’t delude yourself my dear, you’re naturally gifted.” Leila responded with a smile in the sing song voice of her elvish.\n\n“You are so beautiful when you try to encourage me.” Gunrid smirked and stole a kiss from Leila’s small lips.\n\n“I’m just telling you the truth.” Leila smiled switching back to common as well and stealing a second key from Gunrid’s belt. “You’re back for a while now right?” She asked hesitantly.\n\n“I’m back, I’ll protect you.” Gunrid assured her and Leila pulled up the skirt she was wearing to get to the lock underneath. “Did anyone try?”\n\n“Not since you split the skull of the last one who did.” Leila smiled as the lock made a small click and the armor protecting her maidenhood fell away. “It just feels safer… knowing they can’t try again.” She said in a low voice.\n\n“Don’t worry.” Gunrid said wrapping her arms tightly around the elf. “I won’t let anyone hurt or use you.” She assured the slightly quivering elf. “Remember, its only till the winter raids right? Just stick it out till the winter raids and you’ll never have to see any other tusks than these 2 again.” She finished and proudly displayed her two tusks.\n\n“I remember.” Leila giggled, kissing each of the tusks in turn. “I can handle it, as long as I know you’re coming home to me.”\n\n“Always.” Gunrid assured her and just held the elf tightly until the slender woman wiggled out of her grasp. Leila got to her feet, the maidenhood armor and skirt slipping from her and leaving her almost naked and undeniably beautiful in the dim light of the tent.\n\n“Come on you big sweetheart.” Leila smiled as she undid the last of her cloth, the piece that covered her chest. “Join me in the furs, let me welcome you home.” She held down a hand to Gunrid who took it and stuff, her own pants slipping off as she did so, more evidence of her lover’s deviously dexterous fingers.\n\nGunrid stepped in close and was just about to lift the elf off of her feet again when the slender woman wrapped a leg around her and placed a deep kiss on Gunrid’s lips. Gunrid’s strong hands found Leila’s ass and pulled her closer, feeling the moist hungry lips of her beautiful lover press against her own. Come winter she would make sure to get the two of them to a place where Leila wouldn’t have to worry about her safety, but for now all she could do was to treat her right and make sure their time together between raids was everything it could be." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You've been fighting a war against aliens for the last 10 years. Humanity has been nearly wiped out, and you're one of the few still fighting against the invaders. You had just sacrificed yourself to destroy one of their bases, when suddenly you wake up on the side of a road. 20 years ago." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The explosives on my back were growing incredibly heavy as I dodged through the corners of what used to be the British Parlement building. I didn't have long before they found me, and I had a vital mission - to strike a blow at those tentacle faced bastards that would finally give us a chance. When they had originally came, they held the technological advantage in every way, but they used existing infrastructure when it suited them.\n\nAs my lungs strained for breath, I wondered how many people had died to give me this chance. A dozen? A hundred? It didn't matter, the sounds of distant explosions was all I needed to know that it had worked.\n\nI found myself in a large chamber near the center of the building, hollowed out from the inside and made to hold this massive piece of technology that, according to our intelligence, was going be used to wipe out those few humans that we're still fighting back. The contraption was 15 feet high, and more complex than words can describe. I could have stared at it for a moment in awe, but there was no time. I dropped my backpack, filled to the brim with explosives we had stolen from then, and primed the pack.\n\nAs I turned to ran, I encountered my first one of the aliens since entering this building, and no sooner had I seen the three tencacles on it's bulbous head, it's enormous and hollowed out eyes, than I felt two bolts of energy ring through my torso.\n\nI don't remember falling to the ground, but I was surrounded in a pool of my own blood. The creature, weapon in hand was standing over me. I felt the life draining out of me, but I took a moment to grit my teeth and I grabbed the detinator in front of me.\n\nIt must had realized its mistake, because it tried to grab humanities last hope out of my hands, but it was already too late. I smiled as I pressed the button and the world around me was engulfed in violet flame.\n\n.....\n\nI gasped, sitting up immediately, wincing in pain after doing so. I felt my chest, the two wounds still there, but cauterized. And it wasn't just the wounds, but most of my torso and legs werr overed in second degree burns. My head was swimming from the pain, and it was difficult to think straight, but I tried to gather my surroundings.\n\nI'm laying on the side of a road, and cars are bustling past me. Cars? I couldn't understand, I was just inside Parlement... How did...\n\nAs the wind whipped around me from the cars, a newspaper caught itself on my arm. I pulled it to my face as I stuffed to breathe. I recognized the headline, it was from my hometown back in the States. A local high school had lost in the football finals in overtime. But how could that be here? How could I be here?\n\nAbout then, one of the cars pulled off to the side of the road. A man got out probably just barely in his twenties ran towards me shouting, \"Are you all right sir? I saw some kind of explosion and you look hurt.\". The stranger froze as he got near me, and his eyes grew wide.\n\nA cold sensation rushed through my body as I looked at this man, the spitting image of myself, or rather how I used to look 20 years ago. His clothes, his hair, his face, everything was exactly as I remembered it from so long ago. I found myself speechless, unable to find words to describe this insane situation. But I realized that his eyes, my eyes, were not staring at me. Hell, with all of the scars I've accumulated over the years, the loss of hair, and not to mention the burns from just now, he, or I, would probably have never been able to recognize myself.\n\nI followed by doubles gaze to just behind me, and gasped painfully as I saw one of the aliens. No, the same alien from just a moment ago, but the explosion had been much less kind to them, having blown away a good portion of it's brain... The accumulation of the shock of all of the events leading up to now was too much for me (coupled with the serious loss of blood), and I fell unconscious off on the side of the road of my hometown.\n\n.....\n\nI'd hoped to be a hero in my time. However when I woke up in that hospital room some days later, government agents waiting to talk to me, I resolved that I would. E a hero in this time instead. Before humanity was pushed to the edge of extinction, before our governments collapsed, and at just the right moment to give humanity the direction it would need to prepare for the inevitable invasion.\n\nWe would discover later that the aliens had built this device to travel back before humans used our nuclear weapons against them, giving them a chance to prevent radioactive fallout from ruining a large part of the world for their colonization efforts. Unfortunately for them, humanities last desperate cry of resilience inadvertently hijacked their technology.\n\nFor ten years, I guided the nation's of the world in how to fight against the invaders. And when they did come, they found we had facsimiles of their technology and an intimate knowledge of their battle tactics. We paid back every death from my time in full." } ]