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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: You've always been one to take in strays and nurse injured animals back to health you don't see any reason why that should change now that you've been Isekai'd into a fantasy world with just as many orphaned Goblins, Hippocampis, and Gryphons in need of a home..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The toll of a bell at my front door broke my concentration. I looked up from my partial sketch of a gryphon, looking at the clock on the wall. Nearly midday already. I tutted to myself, setting down the charcoal nib. It was past time for me to check in on my latest patient.\n\nGroaning as I stood, I stretched some movement into my tight back muscles. The relief was tangible, from being hunched over for so long. I strode over to my study door, opening it to see Snaggle standing on the other side, a fist raised. He jumped, before grinning at me. \"Wise one, you have a visitor.\"\n\nI smiled down at his diminutive green frame, with one sleeve tied off st the end of the nub. He had been an early patient of mine, the first goblin in fact. He had decided to stick around with me, helping out in a hundred little ways. \"Thanks Snaggle. Could you show them in please, I just need to check on our manticore first.\"\n\nHis grin faded a little. \"Sorry boss, I dont think she'll fit. I told her to go out back, to your usual spot. And I checked on our manticore friend earlier. A couple of bandages were a little ripe, so I changed them as you showed me.\"\n\nHe was a good helper. I ruffled the short spiky black hair, making him duck away. \"Thanks Snaggle, you're a great help. I had better go and greet our guest then.\"\n\nI already had a good idea who it was. She had been a regular visitor in my time here swinging by every month or so to talk. Sure enough, as I stepped out into the sun, I saw a large, creamy furred body. A pair of off white wings lay folded on her back, as a feminine face looked out. Her paws were tucked beneath her, settled into an indentation on the ground.\n\nI wove around the rows of herbs I had growing, waving as I approached. \"Syndia, so good to see you!\"\n\nSyndia gave a light laugh, her tail flicking. \"My little healer, it's good to see you as well.\"\n\nThe sphinx had been the very first creature I had met when waking up here. Though it had been less of a chance meeting, and more of a crash into each other. With her help, I had gained a detailed knowledge of creatures on this world, and how to help them. She was the reason I could carry on doing what I loved to do.\n\nI spread my arms wide, burying my face in her fur as I hugged her massive frame. I could feel a rumble in her chest, as her chin lightly rubbed the top of my head. I stayed like that, half mumbling as we held each other. \"I've missed you. How are things?\"\n\nSyndia gave a small sigh. \"Oh, the usual. People begging me to give them unearned knowledge. Territorial debates. The usual. Though, I do have some news for you. Have you heard of the Enclave?\"\n\nI reluctantly pulled away, stepping back so I could see her face. \"The Enclave? I can't say I have.\"\n\n\"Ah, they are an old family of drakes. When I say old, I mean they can trace their lineage to the True Dragons. Anyway, one of them is looking for the 'Great Human Healer'. I don't know what for, but I didn't want to just tell them without your permission.\"\n\nI frowned. This level of attention was slightly uncomfortable, I had to admit. But then again, a drake would be fascinating to see in person. And if they needed my help, then I should help, as I would any other. \"Thanks Syndia. If they need help, then I am happy to provide it.\"\n\nHer mouth curled upwards. \"Aww, such a good little healer you are. I will pass the message on. But before then-\" her head dropped to rest on her paws, \"- tell me all about those you have helped since my last visit.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: While roaming the earth, Satan sees a monk in deep meditation. Feeling mischievous, he disguises himself and greets the monk." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His cloven hooves left prints of fire behind him as he walked, and the light of the sun never touched his form as the strode. The land he walked was a blasted, cursed place, the air not fit for a living soul to breathe. He should know; He had cursed it.\n\n‘All in all,’ said the Adversary to himself, ‘It’s a pretty good job.’ His voice echoed strangely, unseemly harmonics echoing off rocks, and the words rolled their way through the entirety of the cursed land. The few last scraps of vegetation withered in response. He gave a self-satisfied huff and prepared to open a portal to the Centre of Hell.\n\nThe pentagrams hung in the air, lines of fire traced from clawed fingers, as he gave one last look over a job well done. The Gate crackled, wailing like the souls of the damned, awaiting a final gesture from the Devil. He rose his hands high over his head, and the very sun shifted away in response as he prepared to bring them crashing down. And then he let them fall limp. Shadowy eyes narrowed as he peered into distance, squinting to focus on a tiny figure. Was that green? Green? In HIS Hell on Earth?\n\nHe strode, and his step was leagues, coming upon the offending perennial in an instant. Sat under the tree, perched upon a rock, was a young Buddhist monk in deep meditation. Ah, thought Satan, I see. The corruption of this small corner of the Earth had taken him centuries; It was no wonder some misguided do-gooder had tried to undo all his hard work. The would-be Bodhi Tree before him had likely been nurtured painstakingly, by whole generations of monks, in an attempt to bring karmic balance to this blighted valley. It was beautiful. Almost enough to make him give up devilry, really.\n\nAlmost.\n\nThe monk was most definitely alone, and Satan felt himself seized by a mischievous impulse. If he was going to open the Gates of Hell and flood the Earth in misery and woe, why not have some fun while he still could? He had a whole century of bloody slaughter to look forward to, after all.\n\nSatan seized his impulse, and with a flash of inspiration, changed his form. According to the laws of the universe, he must be the evillest version of whatever he changed himself into; Thus, as he transformed, he found himself adorned with a British Petroleum pin and a pinstripe suit sourced from child labour, horribly mismatched with a pair of tigerskin boots. His hair was slicked back, his skin pallid, and the ensemble was completed by night-black shades framed in owl bone. A stack of legal documents appeared with a wumph as he waved his hand, and he lit a cigar off one of his eyeballs before stepping up to the tree.\n\nHe made sure to stand almost on top of the monk and put his face uncomfortably close before he coughed in his ear, extremely loudly. The monk’s consciousness emerged from his meditation with the alacrity of a submarine that’s sprung a leak, and he nearly pitched himself off his rock as he rocked back from the too-close face of Satan.\n\nBefore the monk could get out more than a confused ‘Buh?’, the Devil blew a huge cloud of smoke in his face. He had to refrain from outright laughing as the monk started to have a coughing fit, and he launched right into his act before the monk had a chance to ground himself.\n\n‘Son,’ said Satan, affecting a Texan accent and lowering his shades to peer at the monk, ‘Do you have any idea whose land you are napping on?’\n\nThe young monk thought there was something strange about the eyes of this mysterious stranger, but the man had put his sunglasses back up before he could get a proper look. He took a few seconds to centre himself, waving away the smoke and breathing deeply. ‘I was meditating, and as far as I am aware, this land belongs to nobody.’ He responded, projecting an air of serenity.\n\n‘Oh? Nobody? Is that so? Well, I have here legal documents proving that this land in fact belongs to – Um.’ Here Satan stopped, shuffling through his papers, running through names in his head. His grin nearly split his face when he thought of the perfect one. ‘A-ha! The Disney Corporation.’ He said, proffering the legal document to the monk.\n\nThere it was, plain as day; The land belonged to Disney. The monk stared at it for a few seconds, then looked back to the lawyer. ‘Oh. Um. What are they going to do with it?’ He asked, confused beyond belief.\n\nSatan waved his hand towards the festering bog, sweeping his hand over the shadows that clung to the ground in unholy defiance of the sun’s light. ‘Turn it into an amusement park, of course.’ The monk stared at him blankly.\n\n‘What? It’s not any worse than Florida.’\n\nCont." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: The private investigator was stumped. The scene of the murder was messy. Not in the gory sense, but it was littered with tons and tons of contradictory evidence. Thousands upon thousands of individual leads and not one connects with another." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Everyone knew the minivac man. Homeless, dressed in layers and layers old ratty clothing, with big yellow dishwashing gloves on his hands. He moved slow, not out of frailty, but because he was watching where he put his feet, always giving each step due consideration. Stepping over cracks, stepping around discarded gum or litter. Slowly, carefully, he'd make his way.\n\nStrapped to his back he carried his namesake. But this wasn't some little dust buster, oh no, it was a Orca V22 turbo GXL-MAX limited edition. It cost more than a thousand dollars and boasted a 750 watt brushless electric motor. That's about equal to one horsepower. He liked to think of it that way, imagining that the screaming electric engine was somehow the spirit of a racing stallion leashed into the slim plastic casing.\n\nHe had three spare lithium batteries, though he rarely needed them. The orca was a serious machine and it worked fast.\n\nWhenever he got on the bus, it was the same old routine. He'd vacuum the aisle as he made his way, carefully, carefully, to his seat. Then he'd vacuum the seat, first the cushion, then the back, then the myriad nooks and crannies. He was fast and efficient, no wasted movement.\n\nSometimes people would stare, but most people knew the minivac man by now. Harmless old man, they would say. So sad that he can't get the help he needs with his mental illness. OCD for sure, he'd hear them whisper. Sometimes people would give him their change from the bus fare. Hed always smile, thank them kindly, and then squirt some isopropyl alcohol from a soap dispenser buckled to his hip to thoroughly sanitize the coins before secreting them away in his little fanny pack.\n\nOn Tuesdays and Fridays he would take out a vac-sealed bag and empty the contents of the vacuum into it, sealing it closed and compressing the bag down until it was almost flat.\n\nEvery other Wednesday was his killing day. Sometimes he'd choose some swanky Wall Street executive making his way to his car after a late night working. Sometimes he'd choose another homeless bum like him. Or maybe just one of those nasty little boys who sell drugs on the street corners. They're all equally guilty, he knew. They deserved just what they got.\n\nAnd once his grisly work was done he'd empty out the contents of his cartridge bag, scattering hair, skin flakes, and who knew what else all over the crime scene.\n\nOne time he hung out near a police station and listened to the detectives talk to each other. The mayor was apparently breathing down their necks. They'd made dozens of arrests, linked the killings to scores of people, but they could never manage a conviction, not when each DNA test matches so many at once.\n\nThey didn't pay the minivac man any mind as he tottered past them. One of them even gave him a cup of fresh coffee, boiling hot of course.\n\n\"You take care now.\" Said the detective. \"It's gonna be a cold one.\"\n\nThe minivac man said nothing, just nodded and smiled before slowly, slowly making his way down the road, always watching carefully just where he put his feet." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You are the spider tasked with giving Peter Parker his powers. His severe arachnophobia makes your job difficult." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After several attempts, this was my last chance before calling it quits on my life's purpose. I've already lost a leg from a nearly fatal flip-flop blow, and two eyes from the ants who started eating me in my unconscious state. The other spiders had it so easy; why couldn't I have been born a garden spider? How simple life would be to lounge on my web hammock all day and night, surrounded by beautiful plants, with food basically delivering itself into my abode. I keep reminding myself that I was given this difficult task for a reason: the world needed a savior, and I was the one chosen to deliver him to us. I didn't care much for humanity, but all the species of the world faced future threats of destruction. Humans were the only ones who could protect the planet from angrier, greedier humans. Us insects and animals were so incapable.\n\nThe boy didn't just hate spiders, he was absolutely terrified of us. Every time he walked into a room he did a quick scan. I once saw him jump at the sight of a spec of dust. Hell, I got so close to biting him at the local aquarium but he nearly had a heart attack when he saw the starfish. Anything with even the slightest resemblance to us put him in a cold sweat. He also slept in a mosquito net, so getting to him in his sleep was impossible, as were his chances of getting laid.\n\nI needed him unconscious. I didn't want to have to take it this far, but it was the only solution left I could think of; even if it resulted in a fatal accident. Earlier in the day I had hid in the visor flap of his car. I waited until he made it to the freeway and picked up a decent speed. That's when I descended slowly from my web right in front of his face.\n\n\"Boo.\"\n\nHe froze for a moment, contemplating if this were reality. I had never seen a human's face become so pale, it was almost transparent.\n\nHe then screamed as if he was being burned alive, then lost total control over his car.\n\nThere he was, unconscious in his hospital bed just as I had planned. There was only one problem — he was in a full body cast. Now what the hell was I supposed to do? Every inch of his body was covered, my fangs couldn't penetrate that shell-like material.\n\nA woman walked into the room to check on him, she was wearing some very thick over-sized glasses. Her vision must've been terrible, But who am I to judge? I've got eigh— ahem, six eyes.\n\n\"Looks like your catheter isn't working properly, I'm going to have to readjust it,\" the nurse spoke to him like one would speak to a baby human. What was this 'catheter' she spoke of? She lifted a flap in his cast near the area where humans release their fluids, then pulled out a clear plastic tube.\n\n\"Nurse!\" a yell came from the room across the hall.\n\n\"I'll be right back okay sweetie?\" the nurse covered the open section of the cast, but left the tube exposed. This was my last chance! I had to get into that tube. As I dangled from the ceiling, I started thinking about my life. This would be the end for me; releasing my venom meant suicide. However, I was creating the hero that the planet needed, this was my personal legend.\n\n\"The boy would go on to defeat evil,\" I kept telling myself, \"and better yet, maybe he could change the worlds negative perception of us spiders.\"\n\nI made it, I was inside the tube. Now it was only a matter of somehow staying out of sight from the nurse. I could hear her approaching.\n\n\"Shucks, I must have left my glasses in the other room. Oh well.\"\n\nShe couldn't even see me! She put on her gloves and picked up the tube as if I wasn't even there!\n\nMy plan was finally working! She opened the flap of his cast and pulled out his fleshy worm-like thing. \"I wonder if this is what he'll shoot his webs from?\" I thought to myself. She stuffed the tube into the worm's orifice.\n\n\"Rest well sweetie.\"\n\n\"I will,\" I said, even though I knew she wasn't talking to me. She had left, it was just the boy and I.\n\n\"The itsy bitsy spider climbed into Peter Parker's Peehole,\" I sang as I made my entrance.\n\n\"Do great things, Peter.\"\n\nI pierced my fangs into the wall of the tunnel.\n\n\"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!\"\n\nSpiderman awoke." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You are a knight under the command of King Shandor of the kingdom of Cania. The kingdom is at war with a clan of dragons. One day, you encounter a lone dragon sitting on a cliff that does not wish to harm you, but if the king finds out that you let a dragon go, he'll execute you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I knew these dragons too well. They were small in number, but large in size and power. The record was an entire division eliminated by a Red Scorcher, down to their support units. They were also all-terrain, all-climate, which we had to adapt to. Sticky fire for the Frosty Flamers, necromantic bolts for the Illuminated, we had created an entire industry of spellcasters and researchers to combat the dragons. Cania had been at war with the dragons for a century already; it was a wonder that we'd managed to survive. The dragons were, inextricably, our identity; our coat of arms depicted a dead dragon below crossed blades. Whatever we imported was materiel for our conflict.\n\nAnd it was as such that I crossed the mountain with whatever was left of my company. These men, drunkards and womanisers as they would have been in the kingdom when they had leave, were an expert team of dragon hunters. I had to give them that, though I never partook in the vices myself. So as we stopped by the spring on the mountain, for the men to relieve themselves and drink, I stripped off my armour and walked to the cliff for some introspection. The men would appreciate the extra hour of rest, anyway.\n\nImagine my surprise when I saw the lone dragon, sitting on the cliff. It was not injured, merely resting, just like the rest of us. I could not tell her type by her scales; it was a dull brown that looked as though a child had mixed all an artist's colours together. It was smaller than the average dragon, for sure. The ones we'd fought easily towered over the tallest trebuchets we had, and a stomp from them could crush three men. This dragon I saw before me was merely the size of a large dog. I thought of my dog back home. He was still waiting patiently, wasn't he? I hoped he hadn't starved.\n\nI was lost in my recollections to the extent where I didn't notice the dragon had stopped overlooking the cliff, and had stared back at me, straight into my eyes. I could not have been more grateful that I had not brought my sword, for the dragon probably would have attacked had I done so. Instead, I got the feeling that the dragon peered into my memories to see all the longing I had for home. It seemed to understand. Hell, it probably even empathised on a rudimentary level. I supposed its power was something we'd never seen before: the power of telepathy.\n\nAnd I peered back into its eyes, seeing the most wretched sights. My fellow knights, proudly flying the banner of Cania, riding all over the realm, hunting dragons. Their sergeants and men being consumed by the flames and stomping of dragons. But more importantly, the knights sneaking behind the dragon as their ancients and ensigns led the battle, to help themselves to the Golden Egg of each dragon. Those were the stuff of legend, and King Shandor always insisted they didn't exist. Yet, here were my comrades-in-arms, invested by the King with the responsibility of leadership, instead investing their carts with precious golden eggs while their men were slaughtered by the hardiest beasts in the realm. The King had also made it clear that any knight that let a dragon go would be executed in turn. Now I knew why, for the dragons would do anything to get their eggs back.\n\nThis youngling dragon was precocious and pacifistic, a rare mix I didn't see often. If there was any way out of the century-long war that had strangled Cania, it was through these revelations. I knew now that the future lay not in the greed of the King we had served so faithfully, but in a coexistence between these two races that should never have fought in the first place." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: She's just a stereotypical valley girl obsessing over celebrities, gossip, texts, and the latest military equipment in the market." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Oh my god, ok, so like, you're not going to believe this but I'm driving down La Cienega in this Uber, which is already like, ew, I know, but whatever, I'm driving down La Cienega and I get this notification that Braden M. liked my insta pic from brunch and I'm like, ok, weren't you, like, literally texting emojis to Ashleigh S. like all through Spanish class last week? Anyway so I screenshot it and I'm about to send it to Ashleigh when my phone fucking rings like it's like 2005 or something and I'm like oh my god what is even happening!\n\nSo I answer the call and I'm just like \"um..hello?\" and it's this like old sounding guy who sounds like he's in some lame CBS show my dad would probably watch and he goes like \"ma'am I'm agent blah blah from the NSA and we've received reports that you've been in communication with various Crimean mercenary factions\" and I'm like \"um, I have like twenty thousand followers so, like, I don't know everyone who retweets me or whatever\" and he says - he's still like so serious, oh my god I can't even - he says \"this is more than just facebook posts\" and I'm like \"oh my god who even uses facebook anymore!\"\n\nSo anyway I'm like whatever this is obviously just Brittany being a bitch because I told her she couldn't come to Geneva with us but like there are literally only two spare bedrooms in the chalet and it's seriously gross with more than four people! So I tell the agent whatever guy I'm over him and I hang up. And now we're at the warehouse and I lowkey two star the Uber because he didn't even have bottled water, like are you serious?\n\nSo I get out and I go into the warehouse which is like seriously so huge I totes think we should like literally rent it out for a party before Spring Break, and I see Uri and Vlad in their cute little turtlenecks and Uri has that scar under his eye which is so fucking hot I can't even but he has some lame girlfriend in Kiev so it's like whatever.\n\nAnyway, I give them the briefcase and they open the duffel bag for me and you will not fucking believe this but they brought the fucking MK IV 85.6 PKL 7 and not the motherfucking MK IV 103.2 PKL 9 like I fucking said I wanted like a hundred fucking times. So I'm like, ok, what the fuck? And Uri says nobody can get the 103.2 and I'm like bullshit because Jessica R. has a 103.2 and she used it to blow up Ryan's Escalade when he did that bullshit low effort promposal last year! Like, if you literally think I'm fucking going to settle for an RPG that is shittier than Jessica R.'s that's like such BS.\n\nBut Vlad is like well we did so much to get this here for you and we need money so you have to take it and I'm like oh my god this is the worst day of my life. And I check my phone and now Braden M. un-liked my insta and it's like obviously this was because Ashleigh saw and made him and it's like why is she so jealous all the time, like chill!\n\nAnyway, so, oh my god, I forgot to tell you, ok, so I already had Megan and Tiffany on the roof of the next warehouse over, you know, like, just in case or whatever, so I send them the signal which is a text of the poop and broken heart emoji - I know, like, so cute, right? - and they already have their D45 LLW infared sniper rifles locked on so then like two seconds later they deal with Vlad and Uri. So then I just like keep the briefcase and the second rate RPG and order a new Uber, which honestly takes like fifteen to come it was literally the worst." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: The second amendment of the United States constitution has been modified. Everyone is now required to carry a gun, at all times." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It started in theatre a small town in upstate New York. I don't know where, exactly. I don't think anyone does. There's a dispute it happened somewhere near Cooperstown, where they have the Baseball Hall of Fame. Most people just have this image in their head, like I do, of where Norman Rockwell must have did most of his paintings. An absolutely gorgeous little town, early fall setting. Nice, polite, white people lining up to go to a movie theatre. Every single one of them armed, law abiding citizens. A great as America could ever hope to be.\n\nAfter the lights went dark, who the hell knows what started it. Some idiot talking too loud? Some bean-head on their cell phone? All I know is this one can't be pinned on gang violence or street thugs or visible monitories acting out. There was only one piece of surviving footage taken from a cell phone from inside the theatre. News agencies and experts deconstructed the hell out of that footage for weeks afterwards.\n\nA young man, about 35 years old, pulled a Glock 9 mm and started shooting at the two people sitting in front of him. He missed both of them, hit and killed a person two rows ahead. The two people he tried to shoot pulled their guns out and fired back. The people sitting in the front row turned to look behind them, after their friend was killed. They see two people behind them with their guns out. They dove for cover and start shooting back. People sitting behind the 35 year old who started it all start taking fire, they take cover and start shooting back.\n\nFrom there it just spread. Outside the theatre and across the whole town, like it took a life of its own.\n\nWe call it The Wave.\n\nThe Wave has spread across the whole of America about three or four times, depending on how you count it travelling east to west or north to south. It tends to bounce up and down the coasts faster than anywhere else because of the more densely populated areas. The news actually gives us coverage of where The Wave is headed. It's taken a bizarre casualness about it, like it's part of the weather report.\n\n\"Temperatures this weekend a bit chilly as the fall weather rolls in. No rain predicted until Saturday. High fifties to low sixties predicted from Fulton to Oswego. And have your bullet proof vests ready, heavy gunfire is expected this Friday as The Wave passes through our region. Stay safe everybody.\"\n\nActually there is no THE Wave. The Wave split up in several directions and travels all over America. Dies out in some places, hovers in others for a while. Comes to a dead stop at the Canadian border and Mexico and sometimes bounces back from it. Some people claim The Wave has started spontaneously in several places, I don't doubt that. But most agree it all started in that little movie theatre in upstate New York.\n\nThis is what it looks like when The Wave passes through your town.\n\nYou're outdoors, getting groceries or something, with your head in lala land and minding your own business. Off in the distance you will hear a gunshot. You won't pay much attention to it, distant gun shots are heard all the time. Instinctively you kind of drown that out. Then maybe two more. Still too distant to think too much about it, maybe some kids playing with fireworks. Then you hear a volley of gunfire, and everyone around you stops.\n\nIt's the creepiest kind of dead quiet. People driving by noticing it will actually slow down their cars and stop to lean out their window and have a listen. Then you hear it. That distinctive crack sound that tells you, with your well trained ear, this isn't a kid playing with bottle rockets. Someone responds to it, more cracks are heard. Every single person you can see within eyesight is looking around wondering the exact same thing. Where is it coming from? And remember, ALL of these people are armed. So the next thing on your mind is, who is going to be first? Who is going to pull their gun and where are they going to fire it? All that time the wave is getting closer and closer. You're not just hearing gunfire anymore. You start to hear ricochets. You can hear bullets whizzing through the air over your head.\n\nThe thing that really gets you is there is so much of it. It seems to be coming from all directions. People just out of eyesight are now firing. The hissing is not longer a the hiss of a passing bullet. You start to hear that pop sound to let you know a bullet just missed your ear.\n\nThen the inevitable happens. Someone cracks. They pull their gun and they start firing. They don't know what the hell they are firing at. They're shooting in the air. They're shooting down the street. They're shooting people right in front of them. They're firing blind all over the place. If you're out in the open, what do you think a couple of dozen armed people are going to do? You got to put that person down, especially if they're firing in your direction. Problem is when you start firing in that direction, people over there are going to start firing back at you.\n\nOnce it gets that bad all you can do is take cover and wait for it to pass or add to the chaos.\n\nThe Wave has killed thousands of people. Tens of thousands. Some people say it will kill more than the Vietnam War before winter sets in and people get their ass indoors, hopefully causing The Wave to peter itself out for a season. For all the good that will do. Come next spring it will just start up again. Sixty thousand dead people will hardly put a dent in how many people there are with guns in this country, ready to start The Wave up again." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A dragon has set up its new territory, only to be met by a couple of people from the nearby villagers offering it a human sacrifice as to spare them from its wrath. The dragon literally just wants to vibe in this remote part of the kingdom." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The dragon touched down upon an empty patch of green meadowland and lay claim to it. It was a remote piece of land far from the inhabited regions of the countryside and farther still from the castle where the king took residence.\n\nFearing for their own lives, and in the interest of appeasing the dragon, a special delegation of the people came before the dragon to offer him a human sacrifice: a poor maiden chosen for the occasion, and from the look of her struggling and whimpering, taken quite against her will.\n\nThe dragon gave them all a look of confusion. \"What's going on?\" he asked.\n\n\"A fair maiden we offer you, O powerful and mighty dragon, as a token of peace and goodwill, and of our submission to you. Spare our kingdom and our people from the fiery flames of your breath.\"\n\n\"Oh relax,\" said the dragon. \"I'm not here to do that. I just want to settle down, sit back and relax. You know, vibe. I promise I'll leave you alone, and I won't require anything of you.\"\n\nThe people were relieved to hear this. The human sacrifice, however, though sharing in the relief of the others, cursed and grumbled as they unbound her.\n\nThe delegation brought back news of the dragon's goodwill, and the kingdom breathed a sigh of relief. But it didn't take long for them to realize that the dragon had settled upon land that had before been the domain of the king.\n\nThey sent a lawyer to pay a visit to the dragon to negotiate a contract outlining the terms of residence. The dragon was assured that he owed nothing for the days up to today, but he must decide whether to lease or purchase the land.\n\n\"I don't have any money,\" the dragon said.\n\n\"You need to get a job,\" the lawyer told him. \"With the gifts you're endowed with, I'm sure you won't have any trouble finding one.\"\n\nThe dragon insisted on his wish to settle in and relax, and that he had no intention of bending to the daily grind of gainful employment. So he sent the lawyer on his way.\n\nA royal tax collector came to visit next. He told the dragon that because he insists on his claim to the land, he would have to pay taxes.\n\nThe dragon refused to pay. \"Look, this land was empty when I got here, and there's nobody for miles around. You weren't earning taxes on it before, so why should you expect to earn any now?\" And he dismissed the tax collector.\n\nSoon the kingdom filed suit against the dragon. Another delegation was sent to serve notice of the lawsuit, and now the dragon was getting annoyed.\n\n\"You people were ready to offer me a human sacrifice when I arrived, and now here you are. What makes you think you can make all these demands all of a sudden?\n\n\"If you do not present yourself at court to face these charges, we will have no choice but to evict you,\" the lead delegate said.\n\n\"You're welcome to try,\" the dragon said.\n\nSo the whole kingdom rose up against the dragon in a long and destructive war. The dragon incinerated a good deal of the people, but not before suffering injury to himself. Unwilling to inflict any more carnage, the dragon gave up and took flight, and the people cheered and celebrated their victory over the dragon.\n\nThe dragon landed in a grassy meadowland of another kingdom far away. The people in that kingdom took note of his arrival and, fearing for their lives, sent a delegation that offered him a human sacrifice: a young maiden who, judging by her struggling and whimpering, made it apparent that she had been taken against her will.\n\n\"All right,\" said the dragon. \"I'll take her. And I'll be expecting a new one each year around this time. You got it?\"\n\n\"Yes, O great and mighty dragon,\" the delegation said in grateful unison." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Your morning was supposed to consist of you grabbing coffee and heading to work, not finding out you're an alien!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I think the strangest part of realizing I was not from here was the fact that I didn't need glasses anymore. As I was journalist that's always been important: spending hours in my computer, burning my eyes away as a I felt my eyesight get worse by the day; taking my camera to make sure I got just the right angle... That was trivial now with what I'd realized I could do.\n\nI kind of miss helping in the farm my father owns in the outskirts of the city, but I guess the money I send back there is simply doing the same thing in a different way. My father could never accept the fact that I was leaving, but I guess he was just worried because of how sheltered I'd been. He always tried to keep me out of the shade, he said I had sensitive skin and I just agreed, so coming to the city was a good idea. I avoided the sun like the plague, and I had never issues. This morning, something changed as I was sent to the fields to oversee some NASCAR race. The sun was scorching hot and I felt the worst I've ever had... I felt heavy and tired, but I was barely sweating, it was like I was filled with so much \"charge\" that I couldn't even process it. My body had gone into some sort of caffeine rush and immediately gone down again, so I thought that maybe the ristretto I had was too much. With the heat like it was, and with how the \"crash\" hit me, I promised I wouldn't stay up for 3 days to finish a project anymore.\n\nI've never particularly enjoyed NASCAR, even if my father really liked it. I knew he'd be watching the race by TV, since he was a bit too frail to come all the way here now. My parents used the money I sent them to pay for a farmhand assistant. I guess that contributed to my guilt. Eventually, when the race was about to start, I called my dad and let him know I was here.\n\n\"Hey pops, good morning. I just wanted to let you know that I'm here in the fields, yeah.\"\n\nHe responded, worried about the sun. I just told him to be calm.\n\n\"I'm fine dad, I promise. I'm already grown, it probably went away on its own. You should tune in to channel 7, I'm here at the race and they told me to make a piece and keep track of it.\"\n\nHe was happy for me, and I could practically hear his smile through the phone, I felt content.\n\nI'd like to say it all went without a hitch, but I'm writing this to mention how I found out about my secret, so you can probably guess that there's something going wrong eventually. It was no big deal, to be honest.\n\nYou know how sometimes, racers can't control their car, and they stir and tumble into the crowd? Well, I was too aware of that. I'd seen more races than I would've liked, so I was always alert. I never expected it to happen to me, or to be the one to save the person in front of me.\n\nAs I reported, I could feel myself... Hearing better? I can't explain exactly what it is, but I could realize that something was different. That's how I smelt the smoke even if the car was far away. We didn't even have time to pause the broadcast, I just put my microphone, and as the car flew towards us, I saw the world slow down. I didn't think I was going to make it, but as everyone moved away, I saw the kid, playing with his small little toy car on the rails, excited to see the car drive, uncaring and unaware that he was about to meet it far closer than he would've liked to.\n\nI was surprised as everyone else when I moved at least 20 feet in a second, taking the kid into my arms to protect him from the impact.\n\nNothing prepared me to feel the car impact me, slowed down, as if it weren't coming at a several dozen miles an hour.\n\nNothing prepared me to feel the car break like cardboard against my skin... To feel the \"crack!\" of steel and plastic, barely moving me an inch with its impact.\n\nThe kid was intact, and in the middle of the commotion, after I put the kid away from me to drop see if the driver was okay, ignoring what had just happened, I heard the phrase that would define how I'd live my life from now on.\n\n\"Thank you for saving me mister! You're like a super man!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Most people would be terrified if they were abducted by aliens, but not you, you see this is a rare opportunity." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kevin woke up with a throbbing head. He could usually take the drinking but the occasional joint throws him off the edge. Little could be remembered about the previous night but as he assembled himself into orientation things started to fall into place.\n\nNot really though. He found himself still stoned and being unable to recognize the place he is in, a mild sense of discomfort crept in. Or he could be panicking, who knew!\n\nA door thud behind Kevin so he turned around expecting Miranda, his girlfriend. Shock replaced anticipation. What he was looking at was not human. This thought was a first of its kind. It was a figure resembling that of an animal, bipedal and blue, flashing a grin as wide as his palm.\n\n“You have caused us inconvenience, human” - said the creature in a shrill tone.\n\nKevin could not believe his eyes. The creature was speaking in the language he understood. He would have let his astonishment linger for a little while longer but he broke into a laughing fit as he registered the creature’s voice in his mind. The position which he was in demanded his absolute attention because he was captured in an unknown place with a strange animalistic being. Being scared was completely valid, except that he wasn’t.\n\n“Then why are you smiling?” – Kevin pondered out loud.\n\n“This is not a smile in our creatureship. We are unable of making facial expressions”\n\n“So you’re always going to keep smiling like this?”\n\n“Yes”\n\n“No matter what I say?”\n\n“No matter what you say!”\n\n“Okay. How many aliens does it take to change a light bulb?”\n\n“I don’t know. How many?” – inquired the beast with reluctance.\n\n”Two. One to abduct the light bulb and another to probe it.” – With this Kevin burst into a long, possibly exaggerated guffaw.\n\nThe creature was furious, although it didn’t look like it which make the entire state of affairs even more humorous.\n\nKevin convinced himself that since this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, if he was going out, he was going out weird.\n\n“What do you want from me anyway?” – Kevin asked once he calmed down, with composure, and hands in his lap.\n\n“We are trying to build a human clone, and we need to fetch an average mind to complete our research. You have the most average mind in this society so we were hoping we could take a sample from you.” – admitted the ghastly-looking, grinning, 4 feet tall alien.\n\nAlthough Kevin felt the pang of insult in his chest, he kept up the appearance.\n\n“What is your name?”\n\n“People call me Gertinobolous, or Gert” – said the alien.\n\n“Are we in space?” – asked Kevin.\n\n“No we are still on your planet. Abducting people to take them around space and then putting them back on their planet is not cost efficient and frankly it surpasses our Weekly Space Travelling for Abduction and Research budget.” – replied Gert, the fat bastard.\n\n“The concept sounds familiar.” – remarked Kevin hoping somebody else was there to hear it.\n\n“I will give you my brain if you fulfil the set of conditions I have. I want a bottle of whiskey and some cigarettes as my last wish.” – said Kevin with finality.\n\n“Absolutely.” – agreed the organism while contemplating if this was too easy.\n\nThe creature left the room and Kevin found himself alone again. The place looked like a small hall. Red curtains surrounded all the walls and the floor was laid with carpet. It was the oddest setting for an alien abduction. He started looking for windows or staircases which would help in his escape. There was nothing but the one door that Gert used.\n\nGert returned with a bottle of scotch, some cigarettes and a lighter. He immediately handed everything to Kevin and told him to enjoy his last wish. Gert was wearing a yellow sweater which did not match his blue tone at all. Brown shorts with it looked like a fashion disaster.\n\nKevin lighted his cigarette with a sense of calmness a dying man cannot grasp. He took a couple of drags and when the nicotine stared to hit him, he took a large sip from the bottle of scotch. He did not swallow it. He gave himself a mindful moment of peace before all the havoc will begin.\n\nHe spurted alcohol out of his mouth towards the burning end of the cigarette in the general direction of Gert. Massive flames emerged out the cigarette and took hold of Gert’s terrible yellow sweater. The clumsy alien started flailing around with that stupid grin still on his face and fire set all over him. The cigarette was wet now. Kevin threw it to the ground and got the lighter out of his pocket.\n\nUsing the same technique that he learned while bartending a few years ago, he set fire to the curtains in the room. He walked out of the door to find that the room was just a part of a house, Kevin went around setting everything on fire. Panic rose among the few other aliens but they could not decide If they wanted to catch Kevin first or taking hold of the situation was more important.\n\nKevin made use of this confusion and stormed out of the house. He ran and ran until he found a landmark which he could recognize. He was close to home. He walked silently as the dawn broke, contemplating on the events of the night.\n\nIf he had the most average mind, then the aliens must be really stupid.\n\nEDIT: This is the first piece of text I have ever put down. Please go easy on me. I would really appreciate healthy criticism. Express whatever you have to say." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: The femme fatal enters the office of the detective and is disappointed to find out that he is happily married, loyal, and a professional who doesn't mess around with clients." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was a typical Friday night for Detective Dave Johnson. Some might even call it dull.\n\nHe had been sitting at his desk for hours, answering his phone every time someone rang him offering a tip or asking for help getting to the bottom of what happened to their misplaced plunger, lost puppy, or some other mundane thing.\n\nThe occupation suited Dave fine, but on nights like these, when the cold January air outside found its way into his office and the sun disappeared before supper, he could find himself feeling a bit melancholic.\n\nHis phone rang, interrupting his blue thoughts. He picked up the receiver.\n\n\"Detective Johnson,\" he answered.\n\n\"Hi, honey, it's me.\" Dave's wife, Ethel, the brightest light in his life.\n\n\"Oh, honey, your voice is just what I needed to hear right now.\"\n\n\"That makes me glad to hear. How's it going down there?\"\n\nDave sighed. \"Well, you know how it is. Mrs. Montague rang earlier about her missing spectacles again. This is the third time this week I've had to tell her they're on her head.\"\n\nEthel laughed.\n\n\"I'm so glad you called, baby. If it weren't for you, I don't know how I would get through this job some days. Nothing remarkable ever seems to happen around here.\"\n\nJust then, the door creaked open. In walked a 6-foot dame with black hair and curves that cartoonishly filled her dress. She locked eyes with Dave and a seductive smile came across her lips, between which held a cigarette.\n\n\"Hold on, honey, a client just came in. I'll call you back. Love you.\" Dave hung up the phone. \"Evening, ma'am. Could you please put that cigarette out?\"\n\n\"Of course, detective.\" She dropped the cigarette on the floor and squashed it underneath her red high heel. It died with a whimper of smoke. \"Was that your wife on the phone?\"\n\n\"Yes, it was. So how can I help you?\"\n\nThe mysterious woman walked to the chair and sat down. Dave noted the way she carried herself with such confidence and mystique. To a less loyal man, she might even arouse some salacious desire.\n\n\"It's my husband, Detective. I'm afraid he's gone missing.\"\n\n\"Missing? I'm so sorry, that must be hard to be without your partner.\"\n\n\"Oh, well, there are always other men. But his fortune has gone missing, as well.\"\n\n\"That's certainly tough, but surely you must miss your husband. If my wife were to suddenly vanish, I can only imagine how blue that would make me. I might not find another woman like her.\"\n\n\"Well,\" the woman said, \"you might.\" She eyed Dave and ran her red-polished fingers through her hair and smiled seductively, her lips bright crimson with lipstick.\n\n\"Are you implying something, Mrs...\"\n\n\"Goldstone. Judy Goldstone.\"\n\n\"Of the famous Goldstone family?\"\n\n\"That's the one.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Dave sat back in his chair for a moment. The Goldstones were notorious in the city for their ruthless greed and cunning. He eyed the wealthy client in front of him. \"Mrs. Goldstone-\"\n\n\"Please, Detective, call me Judy.\"\n\nDave stared at Judy silently for a few seconds. \"Mrs. Goldstone, are you in debt?\"\n\nThe question seemed to shake Mrs. Goldstone's foundation. Her eyes fell to the floor. Her seductive smile turned into a revealing frown. She nervously reached into her purse for a cigarette, but in her panic pulled out a gun instead.\n\n\"Is that the gun you used to kill your husband with, Mrs. Goldstone?\"\n\nHer eyes darted to Dave, disbelief and guilt written on her face. \"Damn you, Detective! Damn you and your happy marriage!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You're done with life. You commit suicide, but as you go towards the light, something strange happens... you reawaken in a new body, 100,000 years in the future." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lia,\n\nI had heard that cold was one of the best ways to go. You feel warm, hallucinate, gradually lose the ability to move or even think. The truth is, I don’t remember any of that. I remember waking up at sunrise, feeling ready and determined. It was snowing, as it had been for days, and even the signs shouting the dangers the mountain posed in bad weather were starting to vanish into the white. I went way off trail. I climbed higher and higher until I was above the clouds, found a spot with a good view, and sat down in the snow. The last thing I remember is watching clouds pass over mountaintops, staring out at a world of blue and white and gray, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And then you were there, standing above me.\n\nI didn’t get lost, Lia. I wasn’t on a fun camping trip with friends. I planned and chose to die. When I woke up, I did not feel saved. I thought, “No, no, no. This can’t be real. How did anyone find me?” I was scared of what would happen next.\n\nWhat happened next, though, was the most amazing ride of my life. I thought you were trying to play a cruel joke on me when you told me how long I had been asleep in the snow and ice. I don’t think I even believed it when I saw the buildings that stretched impossibly high or people flying around ostensibly without any assistance from technology. What really did it for me was that first night we spent outside of the city. The stars were not my stars. The constellations I had learned to recognize growing up were not there. And there was this strange glow. I asked you if it was some sort of spaceship and you just laughed and explained that it was the final remnants of a supernova.\n\nYou took me around the world and further still. I simply cannot wrap my mind around the fact that we went to the moon, and that there are still people up there living and working and dying. You took me to the Saharan rainforest, to islands born long after my time, to cities straight out of a sci-fi movie, and all at speeds I never would have dreamed were possible. There was so much to learn, and it was so exciting.\n\nWhen I read the history of the world – all that has happened in the 100,000 years I have been asleep – it is not defined by the great achievements of humanity, not of great acts of kindness but of wars and plagues, of the horrible things we have done to this planet and to each other. You told me that scientists and philosophers of my time predicted we would be extinct long before this point. And maybe the moral in all this is that no matter what happens, we survive, we keep going, we get better and do more. And I know that another, more optimistic person would be revitalized by this incredible second chance I have been given and vow to make the most of it.\n\nBut I am not that person.\n\nI cannot live in this new world. Everything is alien to me. I will never be able to hold a job when every position requires you to be an expert in some new technology that to me looks like magic. I can communicate only through a translator and only dedicated academics have even heard of English. I can’t go through life with you doing everything for me. I am a caveman to you all. Worst of all, this body is not even my own. You may have put my brain in a new shell to bypass all the damage that had been to my real body, but inside me, nothing has changed. I was ready before, and I am ready now.\n\nLast time, I didn’t tell anyone where I was going or what I was planning. I had the terrible experience of reading my own obituary, reading the heartbroken words of my family and friends. I know that you have so many more questions about my life and the state of the world in my time, and I am truly sorry to leave so many unanswered, but I am done being a spectacle for scientists and historians. What I do want you to know is that I am grateful for the journey you have taken me on. I am glad I got the chance to meet you. Your kindness has been the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced.\n\nGoodbye, Lia." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Your fortune cookie says \"404: Future not found\". After you read it, everything around you stops." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Well, that was a rubbish fortune, what’d you get honey... honey?”\n\nJarad sat in Mr. Wong’s, he and his now fiancé’s favourite restaurant, opposite what appeared to be Ashley’s best impression of a statue.\n\n“Alright, knock it off Ash, I can hear you breathing.”\n\nJarad was poised to flick a few grains of rice at her, when he took better stock of his surroundings. It would appear that everyone but him was in on this joke, because no one was moving. People appeared to be frozen in a variety of poses, ranging from unflattering to downright comical.\n\n“What the fuck...?”\n\nJarad stood and slowly circled his table. He approached Ashley and waved a hand across her line of sight, nothing. A gentle touch on the shoulder yielded similar results, as did a less gentle shake. After placing a finger under her nose to confirm she was in fact, breathing, Jarad went for a walk. He soon found several others in the crowded and previously bustling Mr. Wong’s to be similarly unresponsive.\n\n“Alright, whatever this is, you’ve got me. Everyone can drop it now, this is starting to freak me out.”\n\nThe silence was deafening. Jarad picked up his fortune again:\n\n“404: Future not found.”\n\nAdmittedly, Jarad’s idea of humour, but it was starting to be rather unsettling, given his current predicament. He almost fell out of his chair, as a deep voice emanated from his right.\n\n“Well, Jarad, it would appear that you are somewhat of an enigma.”\n\nJarad was greeted with the image of a tall man in a shiny suit.\n\n“Wh-“\n\nThe man held up a hand, and cut him off.\n\n“Yes, yes, who am I? How do I know your name? What is going on? You people are so uncreative. I am, for want of a better explanation, Time. And you, Mr. Robredo, are interrupting my day.”\n\n“Well, sorry about that, mate, but this isn’t exactly a regular day for me either. Seeing as you seem to be able to predict all of my questions, I assume you know what I’m going to ask you now – Why me? What the Hell is going on here?”\n\n“That’s just the thing - you seem to be quite, unpredictable. As is evident from that cookie you have in your hand right now. Everybody’s future is written from the moment they are conceived. Everyone it would seem, but you. You pose a problem, Jarad. I don’t like problems.”\n\n“Look, I have no idea what’s going on right now, but it’s just a fortune cookie, man. These things don’t actually work, their mass produced BS.”\n\n“Indeed, they are usually total... BS. But, not always, it would seem. You had a future Jarad, it was written like everybody else’s, but you have found a way to erase it. Make this easier on both of us, and tell me how.”\n\nJarad stared blankly at the tall man and shrugged. He was now seated opposite him. For some reason, Jarad was only just noticing that they were now alone. They were still in Mr. Wong’s, but it was now a private party.\n\n“I couldn’t have less of an idea what you’re talking about. We’re alone, where did everyone go?”\n\nA disconcerted expression crossed Time’s face, displacing the look of practiced apathy, for the first time.\n\n“A little experiment. We are no long in a plane accessible to Man - which begs a much more pertinent question, why are you still here?”\n\n“Look, I have no idea what’s going on. Half an hour ago, I was having dinner with my fiancé.”\n\nTime raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly.\n\n“You think half an hour has passed... interesting. I take it back, this is an intriguing interruption indeed. Let us drop the pretence, who are you, really?”\n\n“I’m Jarad Robredo, a 27 year old electrician, there is literally nothing even the slight bit interesting about me.”\n\n“Well, that makes sense, maybe you don’t even know. Yes, has got to be it. They wouldn’t want you working it out.”\n\n“They, who is they? Throw me a bone here, man, I’m not operating on your level right now. Who is it you think I am?”\n\n“There is only one type of being in the universe who does not have a defined future, whose path is not laid out before my eyes. You are a Sentinel.”\n\n“Sorry, I’m a what?”\n\n“A Sentinel, a being placed on Earth, or any other planet, for that matter, when an event which will change the course of a Race’s destiny is imminent. Sleeper cells, you might say. Well, that’s a fairly new hypothesis on my part. This is actually a first for me too, which trust me, are very rare for me.”\n\n“Alright, I’m just going to suspend my disbelief for a second here, because I’m pretty sure this is a very intense acid trip. What exactly is my role, as a Sentinel?”\n\n“Well, not to take psychedelic drugs. You’re role as a Sentinel, is to ensure that what must come to pass, does so successfully. I do not know of an occasion when a Sentinel has not completed their task effectively. I can only assume you will know what it is you must do, when the time comes, so to speak.”\n\nJarad stood and dragged his gaze away from the man seated opposite to him. The longer he surveyed him, the more unsettled he became. It was impossible to tell how old he was. He went from ancient beyond reckoning to youthful in a matter of moments.\n\n“Look, man, I didn’t ask for this shit. So, you can just leave me alone, alright. I have no idea about any of this, and trust me I never will. I’m just a normal guy, I think you’ve got your wires crossed on this one.”\n\nTime also stood and walked forwards, until he was only a few feet from Jarad.\n\n“I’m sorry, my friend, but I cannot take that chance. I think I know what event you are connected to, and it’s the end of the line. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t care less about what happens to humanity, but the end for you is also the end for me. Now, that is something I care an exceptional amount about.”\n\nJarad felt as if the walls were closing in on him, and Time was slowly receding from his presence.\n\n“You see, I cannot allow you to leave here, Sentinel. As long as you do not complete your task, all should be well. I wouldn’t look so worried; I’ll be back in 5... or not, don’t really know how this one works.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Yellowstone Park volcano has just erupted and now you're in a race against time to reach a habitable zone" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's something you can't quite believe when you first hear it in the news. Your home, your family, gone in an instant. I wouldn't even call it lucky what happened. Like every single moment of our relationship, it was just wrong place, wrong time. So much so it was an in joke but now it was a sickening irony. My wife and my children were at our home in San Diego when it blew. The caldera was so big that they said on the news that you wouldn't even be able to see one side from the other if you were standing right on the edge because of the earth's curve. I happened to be visiting my family in the UK. In the first few weeks and months since Yellowstone blew it's lid, I held on to some hope that they had been just far enough away from it to have made it out especially as news was still getting through before the ash knocked out pretty much all communications bar rudimentary radio.\n\nAfter that it happened in a blur. When the ash settled, Britain became the same temperature as Antarctica in the winter. There were no flights to take me back home to see if my family had made it out and even if there were any, there wouldn't be anything left to go to. When they evacuated the islands to mainland Europe, the old, sick or just plain stubborn remained. Clinging to some notion of green and pleasant lands returning. I remember using my American passport when I reached Calais. The border quards could barely believe it. They herded me and a few others into a Porto cabin office where an official wrapped up in arctic gear informed us all that the United States government had dissolved and that those of us who didn't have duel citizenship were now effectively stateless. I managed to get through with my family vouching for my British birth. It didn't bother me too much. I had nothing really left except for my parents, my brother and his wife and kids. I'd lost everything back home in California. The only thing I could look forward to was to get somewhere slightly warmer.\n\nFamine decimated the rest of Europe. With refugees heading for the Mediterranean where crops could still grow, the region was overwhelmed. I'm not ashamed to admit it but I can't help feeling that I played the system. My credentials as an engineer and limited language skills landed me a position on a hastily built mass production farm in Málaga, Spain. At first they tried to make guarantees for family members but it all fell apart quite quickly. France had a second revolution and parts of Spain were still in open civil war even four years after Yellowstone. No one has heard news from anywhere further than the old russian border. Old borders don't really exist anymore. Pockets of civilization are so isolated that it's hard for any central government to enforce any kind of influence. Even where I found myself, became a sort of small autonomous city state. The last I heard from my family was about three years ago when they got on a boat towards Morocco. News from north Africa is bad and I try my best not to think about it. Slave trades and warlords run rampant but there are rumours that Sub-Sahara is a flourishing paradise. A lot of former Brits have made the journey in the hopes of finding lush farm lands and warm climates.\n\nMe though. I've finally been offered a position as an engineer on the first expedition to the former United States. No one knows what life is like on the other side of the Atlantic. There is not communication infrastructure left in place to find out. The expedition is exploratory but I have no intention of coming back. I can't live like this anymore. I know in my heart that my family are gone but I cannot live without closure. I have to go home and find out what happened to them. I'll never find peace if I don't. Sometimes I wish I'd died with them. Sometimes I lie awake at night dreaming of finding them alive and well. Other times I picture myself finding them at home, buried in ash waiting for me to lay them to rest. At least now I have a purpose again. At least now, I can find out." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: Magic was fair and servile to all the wizards in the world, but for some reason it set a personal goal to piss you off." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The blast caught me square in the stomach, the scouring water once again breaking open my skin, scraping at me as I fell away. There were claps as the teacher stepped in. “Good power Tani. Your speed’s improved, but don’t forget to tighten up your form, the outward palm strike is more difficult than one assumes.” He looked over to me, the sweat marring my face, blood on my stomach. “Jemis, get off the field. Your training is, once again, over for the day.”\n\nThere was not even an ounce of concern as the rest of the acolytes turned away from me. No offers of help, no worry. I struggled to rise as a few people clapped Tani’s back cheerily. The group shot me a look and I heard jeering laughs as I stumbled away.\n\nIt had been a while since I’d come to train under the Roil mages of Mire Rock. My father had had the gift of magic just as his father and so on, and when I’d revealed my aptitude, my mother had almost demanded that they accept me on my lineage alone. The mages had indeed accepted, and it had been misery for everyone, especially me, ever since.\n\nThat night, as the others were sleeping or receiving care for stiff muscles, I went up to the rocks to train. The rocks were large pillars of stone, some with holes bored through, some with imprints of where others had struck them before. I’d personally had to help haul some of these up to the school, work reserved for punishment duty given to me as they saw it “fitting”. I felt the grooves.\n\nCompressionists, as we were so called, were able to manipulate water into forceful strikes. It was a useful magic in many ways, and even more so respected in my homeland. I stood back a ways from the stone and adopted the stance that my instructor taught me when I’d first came here. I took a sharp breath in, felt my veins pulse through my heart and out again. Every bit of my body hummed, I could feel how my organs worked in tandem, giving me life. Then I threw the most controlled punch I could manage.\n\nIt was like someone had pressed the cheeks of a child who’d had a mouthful of juice. A thin stream erupted from my knuckle that not only did nothing, but also brought a black curtain over my eyes. I swore as I almost collapsed.\n\nThe first time I’d tried magic in front of the school, I’d passed out. But the look of contempt from everyone that I’d seen before had burned into me. I just sat there for a moment, gasping, cursing. “Why…?” I looked to the air, but there was only a nightly black mist, the baying's of frogs in the distance. I didn’t know why I was forsaken, I only knew that I still had to try. I stood from the rocks again and did just that, my body aflame with pain and my scabs breaking as I threw a second punch. I was barely able to stand when I finally went back to the temple-school.\n\nEach day they would use me for demeaning tasks, everything that servants were reserved for. They would put me in the front of the star students to be bowled over, my skin peeling as they blasted me with water. I would be forced to serve the food, to clean soiled garments, to clean the floors like a maid. My instructors failed to meet my eyes as I begged them for help. The students would shy away when I was near, or worse.\n\nTani and her followers ambushed me in the hall one day. “Little drip should stay out of the dorms.” She pushed me to the floor. As I went to get up, one of the goons stomped on my ankle. The beatings that followed that day weren’t the worst part. The worst part was that the correspondence with my family had stopped when the teachers told them of my failings.\n\nMy desire to do well turned to spite. My private training in the night had finally paid off, and I was ready to show my tormentors. That day, just as any other day, I was set out in front of Tani as a training dummy. She smiled proudly at the instructor as he nodded to her. I was bruised and haggard. I’d hardly slept.\n\nHis hand fell, and he motioned to begin. There were a few laughs, and Tani sneered at me. At that moment, while they were laughing, I struck! My blast caught her in the face, and there was a spray of blood as her nose broke. She reeled for just a moment, then looked at me with wide eyes. There were some gasps. My ears rang, I felt like I’d just walked off a battlefield. I couldn’t lift my arms.\n\nTani’s eyes shone with pure hate. She strode towards me and threw a kick with augmented strength. No one stopped her as she tossed me to the ground. I felt something snap as she began to beat me.\n\nIn that moment, I wanted her to hurt. More than just the broken nose, I wanted her, all of them, to feel how I felt. Drained, tired, empty, and hurt. The hurt that I felt in my heart. I channeled that as I began to pass out, and funneled it outward. Anger rose to replace the hurt, and I felt the pulse of life roll through my veins once more. I seized her leg as it came towards me. She screamed.\n\nThere were more screams as I stood up. The instructor got between us, but I was in shock, and he needed to chop at my elbow to get me to release her. It was like the fatigue had left me, I felt…full.\n\nBut the horror of what was before me broke me in half.\n\nTani: on the ground, screaming, her limbs now an amorphous mass of skin. She couldn’t support her weight and had fallen onto the ground. It was like her bones had liquified. I passed out.\n\nFor two weeks, no one was even allowed to look at her. She was sequestered inside a private room, and no one, especially me, was allowed near; aside from the head of the school. I, in turn, was taken off school grounds and given a tent to sit in. Some people were assigned to watch me. I didn’t mind, I just wanted to know what happened. Why my body had healed when hers had…why that had happened to her. Was I cursed? I’d wanted to hurt them, but not like this. Never like this.\n\nMy answer came when a veiled figure made their way up the path to the school. Concealing robes of pure black and green that cloaked their whole body. They went inside the school, and not even ten minutes later, they returned. They walked over to my tent, the guards let them past.\n\n“You. Manipulated the form of the girl, yes?” His accent was alien to me. I simply nodded.\n\nThen he pointed, a singular, tentacle-like finger tapering off of a mutated hand. “You are no Compressionist. You will come with me, and you will learn the curse of the Shape.” Sweat ran down my back. I looked back to see the school’s inhabitants watching me. Tani was there, a look of fear on her face, her limbs intact. I swallowed and nodded. He motioned for me to go down the path.\n\nAnd so I turned away from everything I used to want, my heart beating terribly in my chest." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: A Shetland pony is thrown into a number of weird situations." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This was embarrassing. She will definitely be expecting a human, I reckon. I looked in the mirror again, checking the symmetry of my mane one last time. It was pointless though. I had no chance, not with my height. I was looking particularly adorable tonight though, maybe she'd take pity on me and give me a cheeky stroke or two. It was all I could hope for.\n\nI looked at the inside of the bathroom door, hinged slightly ajar, sending a thin strip of light across her darkened bedroom. \"Are you okay in there?\" she shouted. No I am not fucking okay. \"Yeah, give me a second\". It was now or never. I nudged the door open with my nose with the tentativeness of a school boy opening the door to the headmaster's office. \"Hey there\" I said, with a forced arrogance like this was no big deal. She stared at me, jaw ajar. I was used to that look. \"Dave. Dave! How the fuck did you get a fucking pony into my house? What the fuck are you doing?\"\n\n\"Language, Becca\" I quipped, trying to make light of the situation as best I could. But this situation was anything but light, this was obese. Full fat. A guilty pleasure, as far as situations go. This was the kind of situation that lonely women treat themselves to on a Friday night in front of a rom-com, before another guilt ridden detox that lasts half of the morning afterwards.\n\nBecca, the poor girl, looked down to see that the hilarious quip had come from my own mouth. \"Wha...where's Dave?\" she looked light headed. Maybe that was the drink? She did have a lot. Probably not though. More then likely, I reasoned, her light headedness could be attributed to the fact she's just spoken to, and had a response from, a Shetland pony. A witty Shetland pony, mind you.\n\n\"Ah, well there's something you should know about Dave. He's always-\" here I paused. Timing was everything. \"-engaging in horseplay.\" Boom. I stifled a laugh, unsuccessfully. That was gold. Becca didn't find it as funny, her drop-jawed face remained unchanged. She looked a bit ridiculous, like she was wearing a novelty halloween mask. Definitely a tough audience tonight. \"Nah, just kidding. I'm Dave. Did I not mention I occasionally turn into a Shetland pony? Or do I occasionally turn into a human? Hmm. Anyway, is this something we can get past? I'm usually a pony for a few nights, but then I'm back to good ole', more-attractive-then-average Dave.\"\n\nStill, her face remained stuck. Was she a fainter? She didn't seem like a fainter. She looked pale, but she was taking off her make-up whilst I was in the bathroom. The last thing I want to do is insult her. I'll play it safe. \"Can I get you a glass of water? And maybe we can talk about it.\"\n\n\"H...how are you going to hold the glass?\" A fair point, but maybe a little harsh. Talk about rubbing salt in the wound. Maybe that was my only hope of getting through to her. Maybe I had to suggest things I obviously couldn't do in the hopes of coaxing some more passive aggressive put-downs. Perhaps, Becca, we could spoon, before I challenge you to a thumb war and we round off the night with a game of fifa. How does that sound, you condescending bitch? Nah, let's play by her rules. \"Good point.\" I bowed my cute, fluffy head towards the ground, in a desperate attempt to look as hurt, yet adorable, as possible. That always got them.\n\nA few seconds passed, but she hadn't reacted. I wanted to glance up, one, to make sure she hasn't passed out, and two, to see whether I was eliciting even the smallest amount of sympathy. But glancing up would ruin my solemn façade. \"I guess...I guess I just thought you'd like me for who I am...not...not what I am.\" Oh yes, I nailed that. It's impossible to resist a sentimental pony, everyone knows that. I was playing the hand I'd been dealt like a true pro.\n\n\"I...I don't think I can have a conversation with a fucking pony. I think I need to go to sleep. You can see yourself out.\" said Becca, slumping onto her bed. He shoots, he misses.\n\n\"I understand. Sure I can't tempt you into a hoof job before I go?\" It was worth a try." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You've been sent to a remote boarding school. Among the many rules, you learn about \"Quiet Day\" - the day after every full moon, where no one may leave their dorm, stand near the windows, or make a single sound." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Quiet day.\n\nOn the bulletin board in the University commons, there’s quite the list of rules and regulations. It’s seven feet long. The regulations range from questionable to downright insane, from “no student may sleep in the same room as another” to “beds must be placed exactly in the center of all dorm rooms.”\n\nThere’s an entire subsection on requirements for quiet day. We’re not allowed to chew loudly, scream, listen to music, type on computers, write, do homework, jump, run, make margaritas, leave our dorm rooms, stand near windows, and almost 500 other things.\n\nOf course, the end of a list is stamped with a giant red “ALL STUDENTS WHO FAIL TO COMPLY WILL BE IMMEDIATELY EXPELLED.”\n\nPerhaps it’s a bit odd, but I’ve never thought much of it.\n\nIt’s quiet day today. As per usual, I sleep through most of the entire morning. The hours pass.\n\nAt five, I’m woken up by some hushed whispers coming from the wall behind my back. I freeze. No one should be talking. I press my ear against the wall. Even though I can’t make out much, it seems that someone is giggling to themselves with glee and slurping loudly.\n\nObviously, this person has no regard for rules whatsoever.\n\nA few minutes pass, and the giggling has grown into soft maniacal laughter. It’s a hushed but insane noise, one that creeps into your stomach and twists it inside out like a balloon. I feel like there are toads squirming around in my intestines. I twist and turn and try to go back to sleep.\n\nOne more agonizing minute passes, and I can’t stand it anymore. The laughter has seeped into every corner of my brain like a fog, and the slurping—oh, the slurping. It sounds like someone’s chewing carrots with their mouth open, saliva dripping from their teeth, dribbling from the corners of their lips and soaking the mushy mess of food inside as it sloshes in their mouth.\n\nI decide to get some water.\n\nThe chewing noise and hysterical cackling continues as I pad softly to the kitchen, and slowly, painstakingly, pour out a single glass of water. The cup clicks slightly against the countertop when I set it down.\n\nThe laughter and chewing stops.\n\nI freeze and stand still, not daring to breathe. An excruciating eternity later, I take a step. Then another, and another, and another, until I’m almost at my bed again. I creep past my restroom, and stop.\n\nOne of the floorboards creaks when I step on it. Light pours through the window as I stare at the floor, debating about which one I should step on.\n\nSuddenly, something blasts through my window with a deafening crash, pinning my head against the opposite wall as glass rains down like deadly confetti all around me. I scream and try to fight back, but the thing retaliates and snaps my arms like matchsticks. I keep screaming. Shards of glass cut my skin and face as massive, intestine-covered hands grip my face and I suddenly find myself staring at a horrifying, spider-like, vaguely human creature with a leering grin and stains all over its teeth. It reeks of blood and slowly starts squeezing my skull.\n\n“Looks like somebody didn’t listen to the rules, today, did they?” it giggles." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Aliens avoid the earth as to not draw your attention, monsters tremble at your name, and bad guys of all sorts shiver in fear at the thought of facing you. You are... an 8 year old with a stick!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The night was quiet, with only the sound of insects to give any indication of life. The stillness was not to last as four men covered head to toe in dark, heavy clothes. They moved quickly and silently through the small suburban neighborhood.\n\nThey stopped near a perfectly normal two story ranch house that stood surrounded by well manicured grass and neatly trimmed shrubberies. They ducked behind a fence, hidden from view of the residents.\n\nOne of them reached into a small pack, the likes of which each man was equipped with. This one pulled out a phone that had its screen turned to minimal brightness. He examined the information he had been given.\n\n\"This is the place.\" He said. \"Remember, get in, eliminate the target, and get out.\"\n\nHe called up the image of the target and passed it around, even though each of them had long since memorized the face.\n\nThe face of their target was that of a small boy. He smiled in a way as to show off his missing baby teeth, and had a few strands of sand colored hair hanging in front of his eyes.\n\n\"Are you guys sure we should be doing this?\" One of the men said as he gave the phone back to the team leader. \"I mean, this is Jimmy of the Stick we're talking about. The kid's already taken out every criminal and assassin that's come for him.\"\n\n\"Right, which means when we take him out, we'll be legends.\" Another man said. \"He's probably asleep by now anyway.\"\n\n\"Yeah, really. Buck up Howard. This'll be a piece of cake.\" The fourth man said.\n\n\"Shut up, all of you. Howard has a point. This kid's trouble. Just remember, he's already taken out every major villain, gang, and crime ring in the country.\"\n\n\"I heard he took out a few invading aliens.\"\n\n\"Nobody wants to hear those rumors, Greg. There's no evidence of that.\"\n\n\"Wouldn't surprise me if it was true. I mean, come on Lee, can you really say he wouldn't be able to do it?\"\n\nLee, the team leader remained silent as he thought. \"Point taken, but still. Just remember, the Pointed Stick is the most powerful weapon in the world, even if the owner is only eight. Be careful everyone. Now, we're going in hot. Weapons ready.\"\n\nLee pulled out his weapon of choice, a large, ripe peach. He squeezed the piece of fruit, checking its freshness, and was satisfied.\n\nGreg pulled out a full bunch of ripe bananas. \"Geeze Greg, compensating for something?\"\n\n\"Shut up, Todd. This is just me being prepared for anything.\". Greg said as he cradled his bananas.\n\n\"Eh, I'll stick with something a bit more subtle myself.\" Todd said as he carefully unwrapped a single raspberry. Greg snorted at the size of it. \"Don't even start. Sure it's small, but it gets the job done if used right. And boy do I know how to use it right.\"\n\nAs the two of them talked quietly, Howard pulled out his weapon. Conversation stopped.\n\n\"Howard, what's that?\" Lee asked.\n\n\"Uh, a carrot?\"\n\n\"You were supposed to bring a pineapple.\" Lee growled. \"Not some play weapon.\"\n\n\"They were sold out of pineapples. This is all I could find on short notice.\" Howard whined.\n\n\"Eh, shouldn't be too much of a problem.\" Greg said. \"We should have enough firepower between the three of us anyway.\"\n\n\"Fine, fine. Howard, you're rear guard today. Now, let's move out and get that kid.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Write a horror story where \"we need to split up\" actually makes sense." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Look. I know you guys are nervous about this, but I don’t see how there's any way around it. You saw what they did to each other. The longer we stay together like this, the more we’re risking having the same shit happen to us. We don’t know if it's gas or an infection or what but something drove Connor fucking nuts, and I don’t want to be standing here while it happens to any of one of you. I mean christ, he tore Phil’s arm clean off. How does that even happen? And I knew Jenny liked to keep her nails long but… man. We’re lucky that it was just the three of them that got whatever it was inside them. I know I’m not the strongest guy out there, and I don’t want to have to defend myself if any of you go berserk like that.”\n\nRagged and rasping, the boy spoke desperately to the others left in the room with him. All were covered head to toe in grime, an assortment of torn blazers and shirts, pants and skirts adorning the uniformed youth. One young girl paced frantically behind the circle of conversation, openly sobbing while fear and adrenaline held back the tears for the others. A blond boy responded whiningly, pushing the words out in gasping breaths after their escape from the carnage behind them.\n\n“So what are we supposed to do? All just sit in our own corner and hope that we all keep our heads on straight?”\n\n“This place is big, but there’s got to be some way out right? If everyone is telling the truth, we all woke up in a cellar or some shit and made our way here. What’s to say that we can’t get further? Each of us can get through this place on our own. If we don’t want to end up like the others, then it only makes sense to split up and find our own way.”\n\n“And what if it isn’t just the gas, or whatever? What do we do if there’s traps or - or guards or something? You want us to just fight for ourselves?”\n\n“I don’t want anything but to get out of this goddamn house. All I know is that I woke up here, wandered around for a bit, and the only notable thing that happened was that I got to watch a few of my classmates rip each other limb from limb. If I go crazy like that, I’m telling you, the only thing I want in front of me is a window to bust my way out of.”\n\nThe first boy spoke with finality, his plan unchallenged by the rest of his classmates. Two girls hugged weakly before picking haphazardly between the doors ahead of them, while the blond boy backed himself tightly into the corner and hunkered down. Choosing to stay would still be a choice to split when all the rest left him behind. A third boy stood for a moment glancing between the people that had been his friends while they had that luxury, before turning and bolting through one of the doors marking an untaken path. As the impromptu leader began to offer an attempt at an apology, the sound of hissing filled through the room. Eyes filling with fear, he worked out a few more words…\n\n“We should have split up sooner”\n\n…before screams consumed the room once more." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You have the flu and it's kicking your ass. Literally." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I heard the muffled sound of the phone ringing. Looking through the wreckage that was my apartment, I managed to find my phone under a pile of used tissues. It was my boss, in all the excitement I had forgotten that my shift had started an hour and a half ago. “Hey, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that you’re late. What’s the holdup?” I apologized, “Sorry boss, I came down with a bit of a flu, and it’s been a doozy. I won’t be able to come in for a few days, it’s gonna take me a bit to sort all this out.” “Sort it out? It’s a cold, how bad could it be? You don’t sound too sick. Now, we need you to come in on-”\n\nCrash!\n\nOh shit. “Sorry, it got loose again, I’ll call you later.” I hung up before my boss could respond. I had tried everything. Lots of fluids, bed rest, and various blunt objects. I needed to find a way to get rid of this thing for good. I walked into my bedroom and saw that my flu had gotten free of its bindings. I looked up at the creature that had been plaguing me for the last few days. What had started out as a tiny wad of phlegm quickly grew into a monstrosity.\n\nIn the beginning, it was almost cute. A little green blob squelching around, with comically oversized eyes. Every sneeze, wheeze, and sniffle I produced made it grow bigger, and as my symptoms diminished, the problem that this thing posed grew. By the time I had recovered, it was bigger, meaner, and more muscular than any disease had a right to be. It was shaped like a bodybuilder, the kind that would kick over sandcastles at public beaches. Even with a face that looked like it had been drawn by a five-year old, I could see it smirking.\n\n“Hey there… little buddy…” I tried to placate it, to no avail. It looked towards me, ripping the last of the hand-sanitizer soaked duct tape it had outgrown. With every step it took towards me, I took a step backwards, until there wasn’t any floor left. Back against the wall, it picked me up and threw me into the opposite wall of my admittedly tiny bedroom. I ended up flying about 8 feet, and I definitely felt something break, hopefully the drywall.\n\nThe disease kept coming, and picked me up by the scruff of my neck. I looked at the goopy fist that was assuredly going to deliver me to some nondescript higher power, and then I felt a sneeze coming on. I didn’t really have the capacity to cover my mouth at this point, so when a truly monstrous sneeze erupted from my throat, it struck the disease right in the face. It raised its other arm, preparing to exact righteous vengeance for a respiratory assault, then it got a funny look on its face. The disgusting blobs that made up its form began to degrade, and before my eyes, it collapsed into a pile of snot on the floor. If I had to guess, the disease got a full blast of what my immune system had spent the last few days cooking up. I sat down and took a deep breath.\n\n“I’ll have to remember to get my flu shot for next season.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: All throughout the Milky Way galaxy wars are mostly fought through show of force, a bigger stronger force will always get an immediate surrender, that is until they land on a planet full of stubborn apes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Greetings, earthlings we come in war. We have the superior force, thus according to intergalactic war we will be landing to take possession of the resource. You have 1 standard day to meet us in the city you call Kuala Lumpur.\n\nWorld leaders, journalists, and philosophers accompanied Mazlan Othman. Yet, 24 hours later no one arrived.\n\nPeople began to argue a war began and eventually after hundreds of thousands of deaths and several nuclear threats the US captured the relevant area of Malaysia. 3 weeks later and still no one arrived.\n\nThe World's economies crumbles, famine struck, mass hysteria, and panic 2 months later no one showed up.\n\nAfter 15 months people got bored, there is no oil in Malaysia and problems at home. Only the stubborn remained.\n\nOn month 23 exactly one standard day after the first message the Xylian Army arrived. \"We are here for the resource, where is it.\n\nBubba, the self appointed leader of the stubborn ones, said, \" You can't have our resources.\" Bubba then proceeded to shoot at the Xylians. The moment he shot, the bullet dissolved, Bubba dissolved and unbeknown to those present all of Bubba's relatives to his 3rd degree dissolved. Li Wei, shocked by the scene, fired his gun and he and his died as well. The remaining stubborn ones raised their weapons- all dead and dissolved.\n\nThe Xylian Ambassador was quite confused. Refusing to surrender was not something anyone else had ever tried. Perturbed, but resilient 2V3 ordered the vacuums released to begin extracting the resource. An hour later, a US military remnant arrived at the scene.\n\n2V3 seeing some authority, cried out, \"We are here for the resource. We see you aren't prepared, don't worry we are extracting it ourselves.\"\n\nA military helicopter fired a rocket- dissolved. 2V3 did a quick calculation and dissolved all US military bases. 2V3 then proceeded to broadcast an all message.\"We are here for the resource. We see you aren't prepared, don't worry we are extracting it ourselves. In accordance with intergalactic law do not engage.\"\n\n45 minutes later Chinese military planes approached as well as missiles from many countries. You guessed it, lots of dissolving.\n\nPopping up from under the seas, nuclear submarines, from underground nuclear silos nuclear missiles. Dissolved.\n\n2V3 got annoyed and sent another all message, \"One more attack, or insult and no more electronics.\"\n\n\"You stupid aliens, get out of my head and off my planet.\" Billions thought it and thousands said it and similar more insulting things aloud and on various forms of social media. All electronic tech- dissolved.\n\nEventually, Mazlan Othman arrived.\"Sorry,\" she said, \"The calendar mix up, war, and famine and destruction of tech slowed me down, but I am back. Why did you attack us? What resources do you want?\"\n\n2V3 felt hopeful, \"Ah, ambassador, I am sure you are aware that you violated international law, and have both fought back and fo not have the resource ready. We are merciful, we are gathering the resource. I would appreciate it if you would sign the surrender.\"\n\nMazlan agreed, but curiously asked, \"What is the resource you are after?\"\n\n2V3 said, \"Come stand next to me, sign, and admire the resource which extends life.\"\n\nMazlan stood next to 2V3, open in hand. What she saw amazed her, \"You are here for mosquitos?\"\n\nIn that instant three possibilities crossed Mazlan's mind: stab him and succeed, thank him, stab him and be dissolved.\n\nMazlan acted and the rest is history." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Your seemingly unimportant little acts of defiance somehow topple the dictatorship you suffer under." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mr. Habid braked hard on the highway. Causing the person behind him to brake hard as well. The roads were atrocious. Frequently there was traffic jams... Mr. Habid simply chose to help show the problem by exacerbating the issue. The traffic piled up behind him as he made his way to work.\n\nWhen Mr. Habid got to work, he went straight to his meeting. Most of the others commuting into the capital were stuck in traffic.\n\n\"We will just continue.\" Said the minister of internal revenue. \"Do you think the regime can handle a 20% increase in spending?\"\n\nMr. Habid looked around, it wasn't his job... But the person who did have the job hadn't showed up. \"Sure.\" Said Habid. \"If the regime runs out of money they can just raid some more innocent villages.\" He scoffed.\n\nThere was an uncomfortable silence...\n\nAfter lunch Mr. Habid heard of the decision to increase the budget. Most of the workers still hadn't come in--and the department closed early. Most of their work undone.\n\nMr. Habid had took the time to order from a local food stand. Eating his lamb gyro, and drinking soda. When he was done, he tossed the soda into the garbage, but it bounced off the rim.\n\nA young man who had been let out of school early do to his teachers not showing up--witnessed the littering, and looked to Mr. Habid.\n\n\"It doesn't matter.\" Said Mr. Habid. \"This country is filled with garbage anyway.\"\n\nMr. Habid went home. So did the boy, but when he went home he slept with a hungry stomach and thought of Mr. Habid's words.\n\nThe next day. The traffic was just as bad. The budget had passed, and was enacted. Spending increased...\n\nShops closed down. Unable to get their workers. School children were loitering. The street cleaners were also absent, as well as many other services were not able to function due to high traffic.\n\nPeople were without jobs. A local youth was beginning to form an anti-corruption party after he realized his country was filled with garbage.\n\nThe traffic only became worse people were now coming to the capital to protest.\n\nThe army was brought it... The loss of tax revenue combined with increased spending elsewhere made some military leaders not bother coming since they were yet to be paid. Those that did--however had a hard time entering the capital because of the traffic.\n\nMr. Habid was eating a lamb gyros after being sent home early, sitting and watching the protesters be pushed back by the military forces outside his place of work.\n\nMr. Habid laughed as he got an idea. He pushed to the barricade. \"Excuse me. I have to get to work.\" He said. Flashing his government badge. They let him through and Mr. Habid went to his office, not far from Palace. He opened his window's shades and dropped his pants to his ankles.\n\nMr. Habid pressed his rear against the glass for all the protesters and military to see. His ass was a rallying cry.\n\nSoon the protesters overcame the military barricade, and they stormed the palace." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You feel the coarse rope rub against your neck as the executioner tightens the fraying ends behind you. He puts a hand on your shoulder and as he talks, you can hear the sadness in his voice. \"I'm really sorry about this kid, I was rooting for you. We all were.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The rope fit snugly around my throat, then was tightened to an uncomfortable degree. I thought to let out a cough, even if fake, just to make my discomfort known, but it did not matter now. Within the next five minutes I would be dead. Nothing but a lifeless husk swinging for the spectators to see. I thought it ironic that I had watched so many a man doomed to the same.\n\nAs the husky man placed the rope around my neck he leaned in close, and with a quivering in his voice spoke. \"I'm really sorry about this kid, I was rooting for you. We all were.\" I looked out to the crowd in surprise to see sadness on their faces. Some even seemed to be holding back tears.\n\n\"Well if it's any consolation I was rooting for me too.\" I tried to muster up a clever grin but no such luck. This was it.\n\nThe executioner walked over to his post, a tall lever connected to the gallows. I knew him I thought, seen him at other executions as the \"so-called\" hangman. Rupert maybe? He seemed a nice man despite his profession. Across, standing in powerful triumph was the lord, Gleise. I would say our lord but I had no such ties to the man. He looked almost annoyed to be here. As if watching my death was burden enough to him. At least we shared that sentiment, I didn't want him here either. So close to wiping the smirk from his face. So close.\n\nThe hangman, Rupert, gave me a nod, which I returned. Typically the victim of such events did not get a nod, and I was thankful for the small consideration. Gleise gave out his final words, to which I hoped would not be the last I ever heard.\n\n\"For the crime of treason. Of falsifying information and conspiring to assassinate the king. Of participating in the plot to blow up parliment, you are sentenced to death. Get on with it.\" the king shoed with a ringed hand. I was ready to go. Well...almost. A tyrant he was, and I'm sure some brave bastard would eventually do away with him, but why wait?\n\nAs the floor dropped out from under me I fell fast, caught only by the rope. It hurt, unbelievably so, but I had not yet died. Instead I was just stuck gasping for breath in front of a crowd of onlookers. Most turned away, others cried, I could now see the misery on their faces. Maybe not for me, but for what would follow once I left. But hopefully that would not come.\n\nWith all my might I tried to remain conscious. With my legs swinging I kicked until my arms faced the crowd. Some gasped, others ducked, and I could not see the lord. But it did not matter. I had practiced all week. With my last breath I pulled the trigger, letting out a flaming ball of my vengeance. Of my hate. My compliments to the hangman for fulfilling a dying man's last request.\n\nThe last thing I heard before my breath ceased was: \"He's been shot! Get him inside!\" I was happy that it would be the last words I'd ever hear." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: You and your friends break into the old mansion on the outskirts of town to have a Halloween party. The abandoned mansion is said to be cursed, sure enough you and your friends are trapped in the mansion. However, the entity that haunts it did not know you and your friends are monsters." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Is this it?” Luke asked, giving the rotting room a once over.\n\n“Scariest place in town.” Sarah replied with a derogative snort.\n\nIt was evident that nobody had stepped inside the place for years. That probably had to do with the fact everyone in the town knew the old mansion was cursed. It was rumoured that those who stepped into the place never stepped out again. Classic haunted house allegations.\n\n“Whatever.” Luke said. “I’m going to check the rest of this place out.”\n\n“I’ll come.” Asha nodded, following him towards the archway that led deeper into the house.\n\nAs the two left the room, Aidan turned to face Sarah. “Looks like it’s just you and me.” he grinned predatorily, stepping closer to her.\n\n“I don’t think so.” she replied, rolling her eyes and stalking out of the room after the others. She smirked as she heard a huff and then Aidan’s heavy footsteps following her.\n\nThe sound of a loud crash filled the mansion.\n\nLuke’s head cocked to the side. “Looks like this place might be haunted, after all.”\n\n“Let’s go upstairs, see what’s there.” Asha suggested.\n\n“You know, this is the point in horror films when the people run screaming from the house.” Sarah pointed out.\n\n“Yeah, but we can have a bit of fun first.” replied Aidan, shrugging and following Asha up the stairs. “Besides, it’s only ten minutes until midnight. No point leaving now.”\n\nUpstairs was much the same as it was below, more rotting rooms and creaky floorboards. Dust covered all the surfaces, giving the place a musty smell.\n\n“Let’s shake things up a bit.” grinned Sarah. She spun around the room, and put on a spooky voice. “Ooooohh great spirit, haunter of this house, make yourself knoooown.”\n\nAfter a brief silence, Aidan snorted. “You’re such an idiot.” As he spoke, there was another loud crash from downstairs.\n\n“You can do better than that.” Aidan said to the house. The room began to shake, and he laughed. “Good.” He praised. There was a pause as the room stopped shaking, before resuming the movement with added ferocity. “Ooh, I like it.”\n\nSarah giggled. “And here I was thinking we’d have another boring Halloween.”\n\nAsha shot her a look. “Since when has Halloween ever been boring for us?”\n\nThe windows of the room were clattering, and then they shattered. Instead of falling to the floor, the shards hovered in the air, forming a hollow circle.\n\n“Not bad.” Luke nodded, appreciating the artwork. The glass clattered to the floor.\n\nThe room stopped shaking and a door that had been closed shot open, revealing another empty room on the other side.\n\n“Classic.” Sarah commented. “Key feature of, like, every horror film ever made.” The door slammed shut.\n\nThe nails in the floorboard began flying about, embedding themselves into the walls. After a moment, it became clear that another circle was being formed.\n\n“What’s with all the circles?” Asha frowned.\n\n“I know, right? They’re like the least scary of all shapes as well.” Aidan agreed.\n\n“GOD-DAMMIT!” A voice bellowed, echoing through the house. The nails fell to the floor. Sarah smothered a giggle.\n\n“What time is it?” Asha asked Luke.\n\n“Four minutes to.” he answered, having checked his watch.\n\n“What TIME is it?” The loud voice repeated, incredulous. The room began to shake again, and\n\nSarah rolled her eyes. “Get a new trick.” she said to the house.\n\n“What’s WRONG with you?” the voice asked, once the house had ceased its shaking.\n\n“I think the better question is what’s wrong with you?” Luke said. “Don’t you have a body?”\n\n“The house is my body.” the voice replied, petulance in its tone. “Don’t you find me scary?” This time, the voice just sounded meek.\n\nAsha frowned. “It’s not that we don’t find you scary, it’s just…” she trailed off, unable to find the words to placate the house.\n\n“No, I get it.” the voice said, the sound seemingly coming from all directions. “You don’t find me scary. I thought smashing the plates in the kitchen would freak you out a bit, but when that didn’t I was sure I’d get you with the shaking room. And I mean the windows? That was a new one, but I thought you’d at least freak out about stepping on the smashed glass. The nails were a bit overboard, I admit, and I SO get your point about circles. I just couldn’t think of a scarier thing to do in the moment, you know? A circle was all I that came to mind.”\n\n“Yeah, man, you’re not scary. Maybe it’s all the horror films we watch these days? All your tricks are old.” Aidan shrugged. The room trembled, and a low screech filled their ears.\n\n“We’re scarier than you are.” snorted Sarah.\n\nLuke laughed. “True, for the next twenty-four hours at least.”\n\n“I was willing to let you go, if you at least pretended to be scared.” The voice said. “But now, you’ll die here like the rest of them.”\n\n“You’ve actually trapped people here and killed them?” asked Asha. She was the only one of the group who actually cared whether the entity that haunted the mansion was evil or not.\n\n“Of course I have!” the voice spat. “But they were a lot easier to scare than you.”\n\n“Oh look,” Luke said, having checked his watch. “You got your confirmation just in time.” he told Asha. “See,” he said, his voice louder and aimed at the house. “We didn’t come here for the thrill of being scared tonight. We came here because every Halloween each of us turns into something from a nightmare, and we thought the least we could do with our talent would be to do some good for our town.”\n\nThere was a pause.\n\n“Do some good for your town?” the voice asked.\n\n“Yeah.” Sarah replied. “Like, rid it of the entity that haunts this place?”\n\n“But I AM this place.” the voice whined. “This place is me.”\n\n“So, I guess we have to rid the town of you?” Aidan surmised. “You might want to put up some defences.”\n\nLuke’s watch beeped.\n\nMidnight: 31st October.\n\nAs Sarah’s skin turned ghoulishly grey and her nails grew into sharp talons, and as Aidan’s bones cracked and hair sprouted from his body, and as Asha’s skin glowed a luminous white and her eyes burned orange, and as Luke skin paled and his fangs emerged, the house did put up some defences.\n\nThe floorboards started to form something in the shape of a large man, and different parts of the house came together to add to its defences. Pans formed the creatures hands, and glass shards coated its body. A lamp formed its head, which Luke thought was a bit odd.\n\nAidan growled. He was now half man, half wolf. He was a grotesque creature with elongated bones, tufty hair and sharper senses. His face was mainly human, save for the large snout emerging from the centre of it.\n\nSarah teleported to behind the creature, and sliced her talons across the boards. Half of them clumped to the floor, but then the house-man was spinning and tried to hit her. She dodged out of the way as Asha threw balls of light at it, setting fire to the wood. Luke didn’t even move a muscle, watching the whole thing disinterestedly.\n\n“Can you feel yourself burning?” Luke asked the house, his voice little more than a rasp.\n\n“YES!” The voice screeched.\n\n“Good.” He replied. “Burn the whole place down.” He told Asha.\n\nThe house began to crumble. The fire was supernaturally hot, and took no time to demolish the mansion. Soon the flames began to dwindle, and Luke and Asha appeared, unaffected by the fire.\n\n“So, that was alright.” Sarah said. “We’ve got almost twenty four more hours until our talents go away for another year. Where to next?”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: Your watching TV when suddenly you appear in a random living room with demons around you. They start shouting at each other they shouldn’t have used the ouija board then they go hide in their bathroom." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "TV was one of your only escapes from the real world. You decided to revisit your childhood with TV shows you watched as a kid like Talia’s Mecha and Man of Power. You were only on the second episode of Johnny Genius when suddenly reality shifted and you found yourself in a hellish abode. Surrounded by a few demons.\n\n“Hey Amon, I think... I think this was a bad idea” said one of the demons. She was a beautiful woman with long red hair, metallic eyes and raven wings on her arm and back.\n\nThere was yelling and panic. They yelled and screamed at each other.\n\n“Scramble!” Said one. This one looked more aquatic, with gills and fins.\n\nThey rushed to different rooms, terrified. You spoke up. “Who are you guys? I’m not gonna hurt you.”\n\n“That’s what one of them said to Cornelius!” Said a demon with a hairy black body and three different heads.\n\nOne of them approached you. It was hard to tell but it was a female, fully clad in black armor with a strange crest in the shoulder. She bent down to look at you for a while. “He is no danger to us! He is weak!” She said\n\n“So,” you said “are you guys gonna kill me?”\n\nThe one in black armor sneered “it would be a waste of time to kill one of your kind, and we don’t want another holy war.”\n\nThe red haired woman summoned a blade. “But Amon! This is the perfect opportunity to go to the mortal realm!”\n\nThe woman who was apparently named Amon shook her head. “No Xenon”\n\n“How did I get here?” You asked\n\n“Simple.” The one who was apparently named Xenon said “we used an ouija board. In the human realm it summons demons, here it summons humans”\n\nIn the mortal world you had no friends, living family, or children so you thought of an idea. “Can I stay here?”\n\nThe demons were shocked and gasped. A human? Who would willingly stay in Hell?\n\nAmon sighed “Why?”\n\n“I have no friends or family”\n\nAmin sighed again. “Well demons? Shall we have human company?”\n\n“But shouldn’t we ask Satan?” Xenon said\n\n“Right” Amon said “I’ll give him a call” she summoned a mirror, breathed on it, and wrote 666 on the mist backwards.\n\nSatans figure appeared and to your surprise, he didn’t look demonic at all. He had a beautiful glowing white skinned body, a few wings, luscious blond hair, and deep sea blue eyes.\n\n“What is it Amon?”\n\n“Lord Satan, we used an ouija board and summoned a human. Now he asks to stay here. What shall we do m’lord?”\n\n“Bring him to me.”\n\nAmon gestured fro you to come to the mirror and you came face to face with the lord of demons.\n\n“Ah, John Bryan. Who would’ve thought, mere moments ago you were watching Johnny Genius weren’t you?”\n\n“Uh... yes. Mr. Satan.”\n\n“You wish to stay don’t you?”\n\n“Um... yes please”\n\n“Fine, and you find yourself needing anything, anything at all, just call me. Oh and Amon, get me another beer.”\n\nAnd then the mirror shattered and disappeared.\n\nYou stood with your new friends “well, this’ll be fun.” You thought\n\nAmon patted you on the back “Well, welcome to hell!”.\n\nYou turned on the TV and started watching Johnny Genius.\n\nP.S. I’m too lazy to make edits." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: He didn't expect his twitch subscribers to regularly tell him how 'pretty' he was. He didn't expect a month of cosplay streams to win his subscriber poll. He would never expect only female characters to be chosen. And he didn't expect to enjoy wearing the costumes so much..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The results were, frankly, a bit shocking.\n\nWhen Skylar began this whole streaming business, he never imagined his current level of popularity. A few dozen idle gaming-stream observers evolved into hundreds of intrigued viewers virtually the same day he decided to utilize the face-cam feature. The comments and donations he received were enchantingly reassuring.\n\nSkylar slowly but surely began to doll himself up. With each day, a new cute accessory, or a new style of eyeliner. Sometimes he might have went overboard, but eventually he settled into a comfortable spot with his trademark look.\n\nBlonde hair pinned up in the back, swaying bangs framing his adorable round face. Thin, angular glasses, and a light cream keyhole sweater that showed off his flat male chest. Certain angles would catch the sight of his pink little nubs hiding beneath. And whenever he got up to leave, one could catch a better glimpse of his skin-tight black slacks. All in all, his attire was often described as 'alluringly academic'.\n\nThat attire would be his default for most streams, until he and his community created the idea to hold a poll for his 1st anniversary stream. The results... they were shocking, indeed.\n\nIn a landslide victory; \"cosplay shoot\" was the reigning decision. Embarrassing as it sounded, it was a budding interest for Skylar. He was no stranger to make up, having nabbed a few tips and tricks from his sisters in college. With gulp of determination, Skylar read through the suggestions from his community, and settled on his first cosplay character. The most populous suggestion, with each post sporting numerous likes:\n\nDark Physician Girl.\n\n\"It's here...!\"\n\nThe day of his 1-Year Anniversary stream came fast, as did the costume he ordered for the occasion. With blushing glee, Skylar tore into the box, popping plastic tape as it was ripped off. Then, with contrasting care and delicacy, Skylar raised the costume and the plastic vacuum-sealed bag it came it. He had a cheeky, yet bashful smile on his face as he looked over the get-up.\n\nDown the garment his eyes trailed, until those peepers peered into the box, not yet empty.\n\nAs it turns out, that box contained another box. Smaller than the roughly-abdomen sized container the outfit came in. Lightly putting the costume aside, he investigated the cardboard container. He didn't remember any other pieces included in the set, only the costume itself.\n\nThe box had some weight to it. He opened that box as well after a soft shake, and was flabbergasted by what he saw inside.\n\nA dildo. Not just any sort of dildo, though. It was a strange dildo. The shaft and base were shaped like a comically large syringe, almost two whole inches wide. The tip, where a needle would be, was replaced by a crown, a plastic imitation of the human penis tip. The plunger at the bottom didn't work, it was just a solid object. Thick, somewhat flexible silicone that slightly wobbled in his hand.\n\nHe knew exactly what he was holding. What exactly what it was for. His face lit up with blush before stuffing the thing back into the box. He had completely forgotten about the stream, and the fact it was broadcasting his solid staring for a good minute.\n\nHe went on as if nothing happened. Off screen he traveled, old clothes he took off, new cosplay he donned, back into frame he sauntered.\n\nThe Dark Physician Girl outfit he wore fit him like a glove. The one piece fitting his body to a 't'. It's sparse construction readily put on display his effeminate features. The outfit consisted of a tight, white doctors coat with a high-fantasy flair and wildly exaggerated proportions. While it hugged his upper body, the coat tails shot out like daggers, flowing behind him as he twirled around. Not much other than a short red dress existed under it. White thigh-highs he bought separately, sporting large red-crosses, hugged his healthy pale legs. A series of arcane-runes lined his coat, reaching the center where a large brooch existed in place of a top button. A red cross upon it.\n\nAnother twirl, another pose that blurred the line between cute and sensual. Skylar let his hair down before topping his head with another separate purchase, a tiny nurse hat.\n\nChat was on fire. An electronic equivalent of a whistling, cheering crowd watching a skimpy girl strut her stuff. Donations rolled in like a tidal wave.\n\nThen Skylar froze.\n\n\"Use the physicians rod !!!\" voice rang out from the donation program. Underneath it, a sum of 499 dollars. It rang again. \"play with the physicians rode! 4 the rest!\" What followed was a single dollar donation.\n\nOne thousand dollars. One thousand dollars to play with the toy he hid in the box. Chat saw. Chat knew. Skylar saw the wave of similar requests pile in, donations skyrocketing with promise of more to come.\n\nIn his hands did the thick, needle-like dildo, the 'Physician's Rod', lay in his hands. Before his computer he did sit. His cock tented against the tiny dress underneath his coat. This thing... would it fit in his ass?\n\nSkylar lay back in his seat, leaning the height of the chair against his bed. He raised his legs, revealing his black, lacy panties that he wore underneath the costume. He slowly slid out of those, revealing his surging, eager cock and twitching asshole. He pressed the cock-head of the toy against his anus, spreading his legs out far to allow as much room as possible. He reached into the box that this rod came from, and grabbed a small bottle of lubrication.\n\nA dildo and lube? What exactly did he buy? But now wasn't the time to think, it was the time to act. Skylar poured the lube all across his twitching portal, and prodded himself with the rod. The mere touch combined with the thought of what will be providing ample excitement.\n\nHe finally began to receive it. His dainty digits pressed upon the flat bottom of the toy, pushing its thick structure further into his narrow ass. Skylar's eyes rolled back into his head, his mouth gaped open, his body twitched. Halfway inside of him, he stopped pushing. The toy was held aloft inside him by the tension of his sphincter, his ring pressing down on the stern invader. His dilating ass simply clenching down, unable to force it out just yet.\n\nSkylar had long since ejaculated. Cum spurted from his erection, falling down to the ground below.\n\nMore donations were tossed into his virtual pot. The promised other half the thousand.\n\nThe success of his stream was tremendous. And frankly, a bit shocking." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: \"Mommy will kiss it, make it feel better\", you never thought much about it. It must be normal... its a common saying isn't it? The looks of astonishment on your friends faces make you think otherwise, as you walk up to them, the day after they witness you breaking your first bone." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was June and six-year-old me was on the monkey bars. I was riding the high of being the first kid brave enough to cross the whole way without an adult when my sweaty palm slipped on the metal rung and I broke my arm in the fall. My mom tore away from her outdoor zumba class, and rather than throw me in the car and burn rubber all the way to the hospital, kissed my arm, healing it with a loud snap! and eliciting many horrified looks on nearby mothers’ faces.\n\nI want to start by saying that I haven’t fallen off a single set of monkey bars in the two years since. In fact, I haven’t fallen off anything, except a bike once, but only because the stupid thing was trying to throw me off. I’ll also have you know that I don’t say the word owie anymore. Mom says I’m more coordinated than I used to be, which is good, because she wouldn’t be here today without my protection.\n\nLess than a week after that happened, I saw a guy from the FBI at the mall. Or maybe it was the CIA. I’m not sure which, but it had to be one of them because he was wearing a suit. I knew he was following us because our mall is super long with a second floor that opens in the middle to the first, and he was either behind us or staring down from there every step of my mom’s painfully long shopping trip.\n\nHe approached me while she was looking at sundresses for my baby sister in a store that I, of course, couldn’t allow myself to be seen in. I was hoping he would try to recruit me to the men in black, but to my disappointment, he just wanted to talk about my mom. I told him that she was in the store buying sundresses for a baby who was too dumb to even know how to put them on. He laughed and asked me if I loved her anyway.\n\n“Yeah, I guess. She’s my mom.” I replied, not sure where the line of inquiry was heading and suddenly uncomfortable with the sense of urgency behind his approachable gaze. “Is there anything special about her you really love?” He pressed. Something was wrong with the way he asked that. I wanted my mom to get me out of there, but I was too old to cry and my pride was still recovering from the playground incident.\n\nI stammered out to the man that no, there was nothing special about my mom. Why was he so interested in her? It had to be her apparent magical powers. He frowned and straightened up.\n\n“That’s no way to be talking about your own mother, son. I bet she tells everyone how special her boy is. How about we get you back to her?”\n\nI couldn’t disobey an adult, but I wasn’t about to lead this guy straight to my mom. “She’s, um, peeing. In the bathroom.” I clumsily lied, to the man’s amusement. The bathroom, next to the escalators, was nowhere near there, and I’d already told him she was in the store. Well, only one thing left to do.\n\n“There she is, right there.” I said, pointing past his leg. He fell for it and I took off, sprinting across the long mall to the faraway escalator. Shouts and confusion from him barrelling people aside filled the mall as I dodged legs and strollers in my desperation. Amazingly, I stayed ahead long enough to get to the escalator, which was clogged with enough shoppers to stall the man as I wriggled my way up to the second floor. Once I was up there, I doubled back, heading for the store right above the one my mom was in. Just as I reached it, he caught up and cornered me against the railing.\n\n“Sorry, son, but I can’t send you home today without a mother.” He said, not even out of breath. I, on the other hand, was dying. “Then why not… send mom home… too?” I wheezed, and he chuckled.\n\n“No. Your mother’s gift needs to be sold- I mean shared, shared with humanity. And I’m the man to do it.” He said, almost losing his composure for a second in the middle. It was perfect. My mother stepped out of the store, and I tensed in anticipation of what I had to do next.\n\nI used all the strength in my six year old body to hoist myself over the railing, taking one last look in the man’s bewildered eyes before plunging 15 feet to the hard tiles below. All I remember now is an entire 4th of July fireworks display compressed into less than a second before I felt my mother’s kiss bring me back from the edge and opened my eyes to see a crowd congregating on the second floor, one pair of furious eyes peering out from among it. When the eyes turned away, I knew it was time to get a move on.\n\nI told my mom that a man was here to get her and she looked confused and concerned, more so than she already was by her son’s decision to throw himself off a building, but when I told her he’d chased me she got us out of there fast. I hadn’t seen that man since, until yesterday. Same suit, same face, just behind a pair of sunglasses. He’s a big guy, but now I’m eight, and he’s going to have to go through me to get my mom." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You randomly get psychic powers. You learn very awkwardly that what people believe they are thinking in their own head is nothing compared to what they are actually thinking." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Everyone has three voices.\n\nThe voice you present to the world around you. The one you use in everyday life. This is the voice you reason with, charm with, even sing with. It's like a pair of clothes; you can decide what it sounds like but it doesn't really tell you anything about the person inside.\n\nThe second voice is the one in your mind. The best friend that reassures you, tells you you're in the right. This is the one you'd feel empty without; a piece of you.\n\nThen there's the third voice.\n\nThis one hides in the deepest shadows but has the deepest impact. It hides your true motives, what really keeps you breathing. Not many people let this voice loose; it's far too dangerous for that. You see this voice can lead people to murder, rape or worse...\n\nThis is the voice that I'm starting to hear.\n\nI try to block out the omnipresent voices as I battle my way down the school corridor. Through the snatched voices I hear a loner in the corridor planning how to get rid of his bullies once and for all. Permanently. Normally this would stop me in my tracks but it barely registers. Ever since this curse has been laid on my teenage shoulders, I've wanted to do one thing. Today I've finally accumulated the strength to do it.\n\nNoone has ever told me why I was given the curse. I certainly didn't ask for it. It seemed to arise with puberty. You know how it goes; spots, low self esteem, messed up physic powers? But since the day I realised the doctor wanted to take off my shirt for a different reason, I've had to life with this terrible gift. I see your darkest secrets; the ones that you wouldn't even admit to yourself. I don't only see why you think you're doing it, but actually why you're doing it.\n\nYou probably think that's awesome, right? Let's just say if I could give you this burden I would in a heartbeat. Imagine seeing future murders live next door and feel powerless to stop it. The thuggish boyfriend who's on the verge of raping his girl for not giving him what his simple mind desires. Imagine seeing that your minister didn't actually receive a calling to the church like he believes he did but rather it was own temptation leading him to where young choir boys lay. Worst of all imagine realising your Dad has taught himself like an actor with a script to actually think he loves you and that your not the disappointment he truly believes you are.\n\nIt never stops, every caught second a crazy new criminal. I sometimes crack when I'm alone, break down in tears at the injection of relief which silence brings. But underneath all the voices that I hear every second of every day, I've been beginning to hear a new one. One getting louder and gaining strength with each passing minute and murder. One even beginning to eclipse all the others ones trapped in my mind; my own.\n\nIt's sweet tones telling me how I should use my newfound \"gift\". Every argument I used to try and fight this plagued idea and stop it soon fell after little resistance. Here I was following my own third voice and seeing where it lay me.\n\nThe reassuring whispers led me to the art room. A single solitary figure was present, finishing off the final strokes of a painting. Earphones kept her from being alerted to my prescence. I took the opportunity to examine her once again, like an artist with their masterpiece. The piercing eyes, the curved figure, the shy smile. Each brought up a memory which stung like pins in my finger. Why did we ever break up?\n\nShe turned around, taken aback by my arrival. Surprised and confused she carefully removed her earphones. We hadn't spoke in a two months and yet here I turn up out of the blue some morning. But I knew what I had to and delaying would only make each word more of a struggle to get out from my lips. So before she could open her mouth I began to let out the spiel of words which I had been practicing each day in front of the mirror for a month.\n\n\" Elsa, I'm sorry to shock you like this I didn't mean for it to happen this way. But I couldn't help but ask you this. I had to make sure it was worthwhile. Did you ever love me? \" The words squeezed between my trembling lips.\n\nTears welled up in her eyes as she realised the enormity of the question. As if it were cogs in a clock, I saw the thoughts slowly come together in her mind as an answer was slowly realised.\n\n\"Of course I did\" said the first voice, escaping from her mouth.\n\nThe second voice believed it. It remembered all of the happy memories we had together. All the picnics, cinema trips, dinner dates... It saw all those and reminded Elsa of the love we once shared.\n\nThe third voice said something different. The third voice confirmed what my own had already led me to believe. It told me our relationship was solely based on image and Elsas own popularity. It showed me how she preferred over half of the boys in our year but she had settled for me. Love had never been felt, just some level of ease which had tricked me.\n\nI nodded and walked out of the door, feeling a calm rest over me. The second voice in my own head died like I wished it would, leaving the third voice to rule supreme. The dark voice now ruled over me, controlling each and every action. All I had needed was a motive to let it take control. I could already feel it telling me, urging me what to do next.\n\nI took one last look at Elsa before leaving. I had a murder to plan..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 400-500 words. Prompt: New technology allows courts to extract memories from people in order to prove their guilt or innocence. The suspect permanently loses that memory. Conviction rates are nearly flawless, but the problem is, no one in prison knows why they are there..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "An ancient incandescent light hung from the concrete ceiling, its dim glow emphasizing the gloominess of the prison cell.\n\n\"So, whatcha here for?\", my new cellmate asked me, breaking the silence, \"It gotta be something real bad, considering you ended up here.\"\n\nThe light flickered on and off in time with my cellmate's inquiry.\n\nI heard a guard cursing in the distance. I would be cursing too if I were assigned to this godforsaken place.\n\n\"Yeah... something real bad, I think. They said I killed people. Not that I remember any of it. They made me forget.\"\n\nThe light continued to flicker rhythmically.\n\nMy cellmate chuckled darkly, \"Hahaha, they says I killed a buncha people too. I don't remember jack shit either.\"\n\nA loud thump sounded outside the cell. The guard was slamming his fist against a table, cursing again. Through the slit in the cell door, it appeared that he was trying to fix something.\n\n\"I wonder what he's doin,\" said my cellmate, \"looks like he tryna fix somethin.\"\n\nThe guard cursed as he kicked a chair.\n\n\"Ooooh, he's pissed,\" my cellmate chuckled, the light flickering again. \"Nothin good happens when he's pissed.\"\n\nThe guard ran past the cell, cursing some more, the heavy military equipment clunking as he went, obviously slowing him down.\n\n\"At least it wasn't us, today.\"\n\nA loud, high pitched scream came from outside, making me cringe. It sounded like it came from one of the other cells.\n\n\"Oh god,\" I said, \"What was that?\"\n\n\"Somebody's hurt,\" my cellmate grinned, \"Hahahahah.\"\n\nThe screaming was cut off abruptly, the sound of a gunshot reverberating through the hallway taking its place. I shuddered silently as the guard walked past the cell again, yawning as he picked up the chair he kicked over earlier.\n\n\"I think we know what they're gonna tell us to clean up tomorrow,\" my cellmate giggled, a wide grin on his face.\n\nThe incandescent light grew brighter and brighter as my cellmate started to cackle.\n\nA loud crack sounded throughout the cell. The light was dead, the interior of the cell now shrouded in darkness.\n\n\"What the hell was that?\" I whispered in the dark.\n\nThe cell door opened. It was the guard.\n\n\"What the fuck was that?\" said the guard as he squinted at me.\n\n\"I think it was the lightbulb... sir.\"\n\nThe guard sighed.\n\n\"...If you don't believe me, my cellmate-\"\n\n\"You don't have a cellmate, Jack. Nobody has cellmates in this section. There's nothing in here but this lightbulb... and apparently these lightbulbs all fucking suck. I'll report it to Administration. It should be fixed by tomorrow.\"\n\nThe guard walked out of the cell, slamming the door behind him, leaving me in complete darkness.\n\nAuthor's note: The main character is schizophrenic, and is talking to the lightbulb. But since he's schizophrenic, were his extracted memories accurate? Something to think about, I guess." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Just a guy seated at a desk." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "James Randolph Thatcher sat at his desk. He was a typist for the local magistrate, translating court decisions from the chicken scratch that was the magistrate's handwriting into electronic documents to be processed.\n\nHis watch read 8:13 am. He sighed. It had only been 13 minutes since his workday began, and already he was bored. He hated this job.\n\nHis passion in life had been physical education. He wanted to be an elementary school P.E. teacher. However, his father was a lawyer, and his grandfather a government representative. His education was going to be paid for only if he followed the family footsteps. Which led him here, to this large oak desk, with a single monitor in front of him, a blinking cursor reminding him that with each passing second, he still had pages and pages to transcribe.\n\nJames looked at his watch again. 8:14 am. He sighed. His gaze went past his watch to his belly. When his hopes of becoming a physical education teacher had been dashed, he had let himself go. At almost 50 now, he regretted it. He hadn't been on a date in years. He couldn't see his feet in the shower. His knees ached, his back ached, and his shoulders were rounded from years at a desk.\n\n8:15 am. He sighed and looked at his monitor. Willing himself to find motivation, he began to type. He was a fast typist. That was his only real visible skill. He was not a materialistic man, and vanity never suited him. To look at him, he could very well be a librarian, or a bus driver. However, his typing skills had always made him feel accomplished.\n\n8:16 am. 125 words later, he paused. The glass of water on his desk had begun to form condensation. James leaned back in his chair, the groan of the seat protesting, and he watched a droplet slide down the glass. He glanced at his watch, noting the position of the second hand. He then watched the droplet slow and stop just above the desk.\n\nHe waited. Finally, a smaller droplet formed above the first one. It followed the same path, colliding with the original droplet. The added weight must have been too much. James watched the water droplet fall and splash on the oak, disappearing into the water ring now several years in the making.\n\n45 seconds. It was 8:17 am. James rubbed his eyes, sat up in his chair, cracked his knuckles, and poised his fingers.\n\nHe hated his fingers. They were fat, and shorter than they should have been on his hand. He turned his hands over and looked at his palms. Soft from years of zero manual labor, they were also very pale. And somewhat clammy.\n\nHe rubbed his hands on his pants to dry them. He glanced at his watch. 8:18 am. He moved his hands back to the keyboard, and began to type.\n\n250 words later, he looked at his watch. 8:20 am.\n\nSuddenly, a knock sounded from the doorjam. He turned, and saw his co-worker Susan standing in the door way.\n\n\"James? Fancy a coffee?\" she smiled. James sensed she liked him. They had both been there for years.\n\n\"No, thank you Susan.\" He smiled.\n\nShe smiled even bigger, her eyes narrowing.\n\n\"Too much work today?\"\n\nHis smile faded. He nodded.\n\n\"Yes, quite a bit to catch up on. Maybe tomorrow.\"\n\nHe turned, and heard her pause at the door before leaving.\n\nThe cursor blinked at him. One day, he would get a coffee with Susan. They would laugh and share stories. She would invite him to dinner, because they were both nearing 50 and too old for games.\n\nThey would go to La Roustilla, and he would order for both of them. She would protest but he was old fashioned. They would go on like this, dating, and then he would ask her to marry him.\n\nShe would accept, and he would meet her kids from her previous marriage to her late husband. They would grow even older together. He would continue his World War I button collection, and she would crochet in the rocker.\n\nJames sighed, and checked his watch. 8:22 am.\n\nHe knew none of that would happen." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: \"Okay, so, in order to decide which side of the R&D gets funded-and what our army will be made of-we'll have the prototypes for our cyborgs and psychics battle. Whichever side wins, gets funded.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We all sat in silence as our truck transported us to the testing site. I heard one of my comrades whispering a prayer under her breath as I anxiously pondered my fate.\n\n\"Yea, though I walk through the shadow of the valley of death, I fear no evil...\"\n\nI couldn't help but wonder why she still believed in God. In God's eyes, we are abominations. Metal-riddled mutants that have strayed far from the path of righteousness. We willingly gave up our flesh and blood in exchange for manmade technology and fluid. However if praying to God will help her kill, she can pray to every deity known to mankind.\n\nWe were briefed on this event three months ago. R&D didn't have enough money to work on two major projects at once, so they had to make a choice: human cybernetics research or telepathic weaponization research. Many years ago I sold my humanity and soul to be a test subject for the former. My comrades can all say the same. Today, we move to fight for our decision, for if we lose the battle we will have sold our bodies and lives for nothing. We will be \"decommissioned,\" which is the polite way of saying \"executed and buried in an unmarked grave.\" Our families left unaware of our fate. The same can be said for the mind-freaks that we're being forced to slaughter. I know some of them. They're decent people. I hope I don't come across any of them during the melee.\n\n100 subjects of each research group were randomly selected to take part. It was like a lottery. We were all given unique tickets and if your number was called, you were chosen to kill people who've never wronged you. I was number 93.\n\nWe arrived at the battle site after many hours of waiting anxiously. You could have heard a paperclip hit the floor. The doors slowly opened and we were herded out and into a wide open field, barren of life. Except for the mind-freaks on the other side. When a dome energy shield descended on us and confined us into the battlefield, we launched at each other. Immediately some of my fellow fighters fell on their knees screaming as their minds were ripped apart from the inside. My brain was replaced with a complicated set of experimental technology, so there was nothing they could do to me from a distance. I sprinted across the battlefield, determined to kill for no other reason than to survive. I transformed my arms into five-foot long blades sharp enough to split a hair. I'll never forget the look of horror in a man's eyes as I sliced through his carotid artery. My neurotransmitter hub shot me with an overdose of adrenaline and steroids to increase my strength, agility, and rage. I twisted and turned like a whirlwind, cutting people in half and covering the ground with their entrails. I decapitated people, sending their heads flying towards their horrified friends. I hated every minute of it, but I couldn't stop. I had to keep killing.\n\nAs I was preparing to imaple a woman, I was hit by a freight train. Or that's what it felt like. It was one of my comrades, being mind-controlled by one of the psychics. He was at least 9 feet of pure metal. I was helpless as he pounded into my head, my chest, my limbs. I heard bolts fly out of my reinforcements and I heard metal rend as he ripped off my armor plating. I prepared to die and meet whatever the afterlife contained when he stopped. He just stopped and stared at me with lifeless eyes. Then he collapsed to the side. I can only assume that the psychic controlling him had been killed.\n\nAfter several minutes of struggling and sparks flying, I stood up and looked around the battlefield. It was strewn with remains. Not even corpses anymore, just massive pools of blood, cyborg fluid, electronic parts, and gore. Out of the 200 people that had started this battle, only four of us were left standing. The cybernetics had triumphed. Now I might be able to go home to see my family. The family I sold my life for. The family that had never known real food into I sold my body, my life, and my soul. The family I killed for. I'll be able to return to my family, but the 196 people murdered tonight never will. With the technology I have helped create, there will be millions of cybernetic soldiers. By the time the research is finished, they will have been stripped of emotions. Of morals and ethics. They will be literal killing machines. Maybe I can return to my family, but in the future there will be millions of families torn apart due to the creation of weaponry that I contributed to. I'll have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life.\n\nBut my daughter will never know. All she'll ever know is a full belly and happiness. That's all I've ever wanted." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: Food is so important in all Human cultures, they perfected the art Centuries ago. Now human food is so valuable that unless it's outright burnt and/or just plain boiled water, ANY human's cooking is considered gourmet." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They're not important. They've never been important. They're small, weak, unfit for war and in all terms they're just insignificant. Their small collection of worlds has no great strategic value and few rare resources. Even the area in which they live is the backwater of the galaxy. Most people should never have heard of them. They're not even particularly interesting to look at, being bog-standard and average in all terms. Not pretty, not ugly, not charming but also not boorish. In the grand scheme of things, they should in time just be like extras and background characters in a holovid. And yet, they've earned a fair bit of success that comes from a quite unusual area.\n\nIt wasn't the first meeting that revealed it. Not the official induction of their little race into the Grand Galactic Accord. It wasn't their meager trade deals with other weak neighboring species. It was the smell. From their small embassy, there emanated the most wondrous and mysterious scents. Smells that were unusual and unknown to the thousands of races living on the ecumenopolis known as High Concordia, where the Accord is based. It became quite popular to go near the Terran Embassy at certain times of the day, when the building seemed to be like an exotic and unusual flower that would only open to reveal wondrous scents at specific moments. Nobody was actually certain who was responsible for that delectable array of smells, as the building housing the Terran Embassy was also housing about 20 other races. Nobody actually went around asking about it just in case that the wondrous scents, so different from the normally noxious air of that planet-spanning city, went away. That could have been the end of it, if it wasn't for a member of the embassy staff, a certain envoy Markus Bergman, from the Terran homeworld.\n\nHe had attended some interesting places where people gather for partying, and had struck up a relationship with a vaguely mantis-like alien. This human man had been dating his new bug-like boyfriend for a few months, before they got stuck inside his small apartment together during a major traffic breakdown. The human man, of Swedish descent, had recently gotten a care package from Earth, with food from his home. One of these items was a can of something which most humans finds utterly disgusting. Sürströmming. Fermented herring. The alien looked curiously at his soft boyfriend as the human Bergman opened the can underneath water. But when the can was retrieved from the protective water, the bug-like alien's senses were assaulted with something unexpected. A strong, powerful, and to his alien senses wondrous scent. Bergman was surprised when his boyfriend ripped the can out of his hands and greedily devoured the contents of the can. Now, this dish is not for most humans, so he had been quite surprised the reaction of the alien. Even more so when his bug-boyfriend emitted a pleasant buzzing sound, and was told that the can had been the single most delicious thing that he had ever eaten. Bergman was intrigued, and began trying out various meals with his love.\n\nTurns out that every meal was delicious. Gourmet even. Even the canned stuff. Being a modern bug-like alien, he livestreamed the entire experience, sharing it to a small but very intrigued group of aliens.\n\nFrom there the rumor spread. Slowly. But surely. There were private inquiries with the few humans on High Concordia, which resulted in a surprisingly infectious joy. Curious aliens who'd import a ready-made meal from Earth, and experience what can only be described as a religious awakening upon eating their first ramen noodles. When the Terran Embassy had a cultural exposition that was open to the public with cultural delicacies from the Indian subcontinent, the police had to be brought in to control the mob that had formed, who had been begun fighting to get access to great food. The people who'd been hanging around the embassy building finally found out exactly what was causing the great scent-experience they knew so well. And considering what the usual diets were, consisting of functional and incredibly tasteless nutrient bars, people were interested to learn if the taste was as good as the scents had been. The human ambassadors, seeing the possibility for financial benefits, sent back coded messages to Earth, while they purchased various empty locations around the planet. They had a plan now, they'd seen an empty niche that they could exploit.\n\nSoon, in 25 ''cultural offices'', chefs from Earth began building up their kitchens. They opened the doors, and let the curious public enter. And it was a massive success. The likes of which is frankly ridiculous. They had to bring out human security forces to close some of the places during the night, though some hopeful customers even camped outside the cultural offices. After a week the number of chefs and kitchen personal brought in from Earth had tripled, and the number of restaurants had doubled. The places were open all night, 27 hours a day, 8 days a week, what with High Concordia having a different cycle than Earth. Soon everyone had heard of the human food. Galactic media talked about the craze for food that actually tastes ludicrously good. Food that doesn't taste vaguely of ash or the horrid paste that most races ate, that was wonderful.\n\nAnd it might have been a little too successful as a matter of fact. Some pundits said that human foods must be full of addictive chemicals, which admittedly some are. Some said that there were brain-controlling parasites in the meals. But no matter how many people officially spoke against the new fad of human food, people kept coming. The culinary arts hadn't been perfected. Too many species had forgotten them, their ancestors instead choosing incredibly boring, but ultimately healthy, functional food. But humanity had always placed a focus on it. On perfecting their meals, creating concepts like haute cuisine, of making everything a taste experience. The lack of culinary arts were so bad that even the average United Earth Army MREs were a step up from what most species had eaten before. But even with the increased amount of kitchen personal, the various human government-owned restaurants couldn't keep up with the demand.\n\nUntil the Greek restaurant hired an out of luck alien to help out. They had her help out with the dishes and the tables at the beginning, but eventually they found out she had an excellent nose for testing the and higher quality of ingredients. With that in mind, they began teaching her how to cook like a human would. She was a natural. Before she had been a transient, out of work, but now she was in her element. And the Greek place sent around a few low-key coded messages to the other restaurants that aliens could indeed cook. They'd already started to hire alien waiters and cleaning staff, but now they started to be on the lookout for those who might have the knack for food. Because there would always be people who had the talent for something like cooking, even if the art didn't exist in the culture, or if it didn't exist. There have been great programmers born before the invention of the first computer, people who if they hadn't been hunter-gathers in the stone age would have been incredible smiths, those who could have been wonderful artists if they hadn't been born in an age where art was forbidden." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You’re walking down a crowded street when the person in front of you doubles over, clutching their head. You rush to help, but looking around, you realize it’s not just them. Everyone on the street seems to be in incredible pain, except for you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As you make it to the person crying out in agony, tearing at his head as if trying to split it in half, you hear a cacophony of shrieks. It's not just this person in front of you but everyone around you. Anxiety begins to take over as the screams get louder. You feel a tearing pain in the back of your head but ignore it attempting to help the person near you. You try to ask them how you can help but you can't even hear yourself speak. The pain worsens in the back of your head and you begin to hear a sound like a horn.\n\nLooking around, there is no one that isn't trying to split their heads with their hands. Then, it happens. A blinding light fills the sky. You're forced to shield your eyes from the brilliant light, but there's something else. Over the cries of agony from the people around you, you hear a single sound. A sound so beautiful, so pure, and so lovely that the people around you begin to quiet down and release their heads.\n\nThe first to stand up and recover promptly shield their eyes from the light. As you look around, it seems everyone who was in pain is now in a state of bliss. As the sound becomes more and more clear, you begin to realize what it reminds you of. The soft howling of a timber wolf. The light from the sky begins to dim, and as you look towards the source of it you see a small black spec. The spec seems to be the source of the sound but it's to small to determine what it actually is.\n\nThe person you attempted to talk to taps on your shoulder and says \"Can you hear that? It's so... beautiful...\" You look at him, speechless as to the series of events unfolding. Suddenly, your body freezes. You can't move a muscle. Your lungs refuse to work.\n\nYou wake up abruptly in a hospital bed, alone in silence. There are tubes running into your nose and there's an IV in your arm. Confused as to what's going on, you find a remote next to you and turn on the TV in the corner of the room. It flicks on to a news channel. The headline reads, \"Worldwide panic due to deafening ringing abruptly stops with no explanation.\"\n\nThe door to your hospital room opens, yet with no sign of anyone having opened it. You pull out all the tubes restraining you to your bed and roll the IV to the door. Peeking into the hallway to find the source of the now open door, you see a lone wolf at the end of the hallway. It makes eye contact for a second, then turns down another hallway. You decide to follow the wolf down the other hallway. Rounding the corner, you find it sitting waiting for you. It turns and continues down the hallway, matching your slow trudge as you follow it.\n\nAs you continue to follow the graceful animal, it dawns on you that the hospital is empty. The wolf continues forward until it reaches a pair of double doors indicating the end of the ICU. The doors open for you and the wolf to reveal a serene forest. The wolf walks out into the forest, then turns and faces you. You feel something prodding at your mind. Not knowing how, you let the feeling in. You hear a soft female voice say \"There's something I must tell you my child, if you are willing to listen.\" You give a silent nod.\n\nYou then hear the voice again. \"Armageddon has begun. The people you saw earlier heard the horn of Jericho, signifying the beginning of the end. You were unaffected because you are special. I chose you because of your purity of heart. You will be the one to reverse Armageddon. You will be the one to save everyone.\"\n\nYou pause. \"Me?\" You think to yourself. \"Why was I chosen?\" The soothing voice replies, \"It is because only you ignored your pain to help another. You were not so selfish to think your pain over anothers. That is why I have chosen you. You are short on time. I will now send you back.\"\n\n\"But wait!\" You say hastily. \"How will I know what to do?\" The voice speaks again but this time you don't hear it in your head, but from the wolf itself. \"You already know what to do my child. Farewell and good luck.\"\n\nYou awake again, but this time on the floor of the sidewalk where you were before the hospital. Surrounded by people, you stand up and catch a glimpse of a nearby TV with a headline reading \"World War III has begun.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Seemingly out of no where, scientists announce the discovery of a legitimate \"truth serum\". No workarounds or side effects, just 30 minutes of forthright honesty." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Bring in the detainee,” I say into the observation room’s intercom. A moment later, there’s motion on one of the wall mounted LCD monitors. It’s the one streaming the video feed from the auxiliary cell. On it, I watch the cell’s steel and plexiglass door open and three men enter. Two of them are dressed in balaclavas and military fatigues stripped of any patch that might give away their identity. Supported on either side by the two soldiers is an olive-skinned man wearing an orange coverall and white slippers. The detainee’s thousand-yard stare tells me he’s in the right state-of-mind for this. The soldiers sit him down on a concrete bench built into the wall then hand cuff him onto a ring mount between his legs. He offers no resistance.\n\nOn the desk in front of me, I glance down at the detainee’s medical report and double check it. Yes, he’ll do fine. I open the intercom feed and speak.\n\n“Please administer the psychoactive. 150 mg.”\n\nThe two soldiers silently comply. One of them gets to work on the dosage at a cart laden with medical supplies while the other rolls up the detainee’s sleeve. A moment later, the first soldier squats down to the detainee’s level and administers the dose via medical syringe.\n\nI glance at my wristwatch. “Time of dosage: 21:33,” I mumble as I scratch a note onto the detainee’s medical record. Satisfied, I open the intercom again. “Clear the room,” I say, and the two soldiers step out of the cell, locking it behind them.\n\nTime for the control. “Detainee,” I say through the intercom, “what is your name?”\n\nA moment passes. “Hashem Izadi,” the detainee replies, his voice a mumble. They must have really done a number on him. Good.\n\n“When where you born, Hashem?” I ask.\n\n“February 1979.”\n\nI make note of the answers, although at this stage in the program it’s a formality. I glance at my watch as I wait for the psychoactive to get its claws into him. He’s thin. It shouldn’t take long. When I’m satisfied, I open the intercom.\n\n“Hashem,” I say, now reading from the script given to me, “are you aware that a small group of ISIL extremists purchased weapons grade U-235 from a black-market arms dealer in January of this year?”\n\nHashem looks into the camera with his glassy, sunken eyes. “Yes, I am,” he says.\n\n“What is the name of this group’s leader?”\n\n“Sirvan Rostami,” he replies.\n\nBehind me, I can hear a murmur. This is what my guests came for. “Where is Sirvan now? Is he armed?”\n\n“He’s in room 808 of the Hyatt Regency in Denver. He’s carrying a Hi-Point C9 in his waistband.”\n\nI can hear a dial tone behind me. It’s presumably one of my guests attempting to relay the information to their colleagues, state side. Time is of the essence, after all.\n\n“Where did Sirvan’s group plant their atomic bomb?”\n\n“In the Colorado Convention Center’s Four Seasons Ballroom. It’s hidden above a roof panel on the room’s north side.”\n\nThere’s a hushed, but frantic, conversation going on behind me. A dozen voices, some of them coming over speaker phone, are trying to coordinate with one another. After a tense moment I hear a disconnect tone.\n\n“Thank you for your help, Hashem,” I say, closing the intercom. I turn around to face my guests. They’re a small group of men and women in cheap business wear. Each of them wears a badge or ID card that tells me what corner of the US government they came from.\n\nA man with an FBI badge clipped to his belt hangs up a desk phone. “It’s out of our hands now,” he says. “Every cop in Colorado is running code to the convention center.” Then he looks at me. “I think you saved a lot of lives today.” A murmur of agreement washes over the small crowd of alphabet soup agents.\n\n“It’s been a pleasure working with you,” I tell them. It really has been. Years of research vindicated. Today, the American taxpayer got what they paid for.\n\nWith their work done for now, the agents file out of the observation room. One person remains: a dour faced woman with a CIA ID card hanging from her neck on a lanyard. “It’s remarkable,” she says, looking past me and into Hashem’s cell. “Impossible, actually.”\n\n“What is?” I ask.\n\n“We captured over half of the terrorists in Lebanon a week ago,” she explains. “We interrogated them every way we knew how, and they didn’t talk – not because they didn’t want to, but because they couldn’t. Only Sirvan knows the whole plan. How does this Hashem character you’ve got know what he knows? Is he even ISIL?”\n\nI smirk. The CIA was always the sharpest of my government benefactors. “He isn’t,” I say plainly. “Hashem Izadi is an illegal migrant we kidnapped in Turkey. He has no links to terrorism whatsoever.”\n\nThe CIA officer raises a brow skeptically. “Explain,” she orders.\n\n“Hashem could explain it best,” I say, then open the intercom. “Tell me what sort of wedding the person besides me had?”\n\n“Susan Brown-Fairchild married Gordon Fairchild at the Hilton Rose Hall Resort and Spa in March of 2007,” Hashem says, not missing a beat.\n\nThe officer does a good job of hiding her shock. “Impressive. How’s that work?”\n\n“Truth is a matter of perspective, and I have given Hashem a perspective like no other.” I close the intercom. “Isn’t that right Mr. Izadi?” I say, looking at Susan Brown-Fairchild.\n\nOn the LCD monitor, Hashem looks at the camera and gives a shallow nod." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: A bank robber calls an Uber as his getaway vehicle." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Charci rolled his third cigarette of the shift, he promised his girlfriend he would stick to two a night, but this was one of the bad nights. Almost three AM and he'd barely cracked the $200 mark, a good night for most drivers but a shit night for Charci. A pair of drunk college students had thrown up in his back seat, first one then the other, he almost did too. Between getting them and the puke out of his car he'd lost an hour and now that the bars were closed his chances of getting to his goal were pretty much shot.\n\nLike most drivers, Charci had all three of the big apps running on his phones, two for rides and one for deliveries. The deliveries were the best, no one knew the city like Charci and he could get anywhere in 15 minutes between his shortcuts and his little tricks. He almost always got a tip for being so fast and not having a passenger meant he could drive like a demon.\n\nThe thing about three AM is that while there weren't many fares, there also weren't many other drivers, and while he had to be on his best behavior while a passenger was in the car, he could fly towards those little glowing dots like a lightning bolt.\n\nHe finished his smoke and checked his phones. Android for uber, apple for lyft, and his dash mounted tablet for deliveries. The only blip was on the pixel, a pickup that had been scheduled in advance for another driver, who just cancelled the pickup. The customer resubmitted a request. It was almost 6 miles away, at this hour Charci could get there in a flash, he snagged it.\n\nETA 11 minutes according the app, but what did the app know. A quick check of the satview on his tablet and he picked a route much faster. Charci slammed on the gas and went dark, snapping down his signal blocker and flipping on his radar detector and his police scanner. He could only be dark for 60 seconds or so before the app rerouted the call to another driver, but 60 seconds was enough to get him close.\n\nLucky thing, no speed traps on the freeway, minimal traffic he weaved through with the grace of a hummingbird. His girlfriend was always on his ass to get a real job, like with her uncle at his software development firm, but Charci loved to drive. His father had owned a used car lot back in Indiana and they used to bond by taking out the old muscle cars and pinning them on the track. Even the accident didn't slow him down, though it almost cost him his life. Two cars were converging in front of him, one slowing down in the center lane, one speeding up in the left to overtake it, the gap between them was closing fast; one of Charci's favorite feelings. He jammed the pedal in, rode the divider, and zipped between them to claim the left lane and leave them both in the dust.\n\nCharci glanced out to his right as he passed cars that were practically standing still compared to his. The faces of the other drivers were always a joy to look at, always either twisted in self righteous anger, or wide with shock. Twenty seconds left before the app dropped him. He slid across the lanes to the offramp and blazed out onto the street, dropping to a reasonable seventy miles an hour.\n\nCruising into a red light, he flipped his signal blocker off and the app sprang to life with an updated eta. 2 minutes. The passenger's name was displayed as XXX NLN. That was weird. He tapped the call button as he whipped around the corner onto the street. He turned off the police scanner, with its white noise of calls and responses, and turned on the radio, quietly, playing his favorite driving song, New Order's Ceremony. The phone rang.\n\n\"Yeah\", Mr. NLN answered.\n\n\"This is your uber driver, Charci, I'm pulling up in 15 seconds.\"\n\n\"K\", the call dropped.\n\nThe street was empty, sidewalk too, but Charci pulled up on the dot and started the timer, two minutes before he could split and find another fare if the dude ghosted. He checked the back seat, water, gum, aux cable, charger, hand sanitizer, air freshener, all in the right place.\n\nThere was a crash of metal outside and a blaring ringing, like a school bell alerting the end of period, only much, much louder. The back door swung open and Mr. XXX NLN, presumably, leapt into the back seat, hurling a duffel bag in beside him.\n\n\"Mr. NLN\", Charci felt the need to ask.\n\nThe answer \"Drive\" was accompanied by a brandished gun.\n\nCharci eased into drive and gently rolled off the curb and into the street. He was a professional, and he'd had rude customers before, no reason to get all up in arms over a little thing like a gun in his face.\n\nMr. NLN seemed distracted, looking out the window and the rear windshield, dressed in all black with dark sunglasses and a plain black baseball cap low over his face. \"Faster\".\n\nCharci sped up to the speed limit of the street, and checked the route on his app. \"You're going to 6207 Walnut, yeah\"?\n\nNLN looked back at him, Charci's disarming smile and unflappable professionalism took him off guard, and he lowered the gun. \"In the area, yeah\".\n\n\"Help yourself to the water, there's an aux cable if you want to plug in and play your own music.\"\n\n\"The fuck dude, you high or something\"?\n\n\"Not on the job sir, though I did just have a cigarette even though I told my girl I'd cut back.\"\n\nCharci pulled up to the light before the onramp. \"You having a good night\"? He had to ask.\n\n\"Could have gone better. Think you could step on it, i've got someplace to be.\"\n\nCharci pulled onto the freeway and brought them up to the speed limit. \"Sorry sir, limit is 65, if I go too fast I'll get a strike on my record, could lose my job.\"\n\nNLN fished around in the duffel, pulling out a stack of bills. \"You get me there fast enough and this is yours.\"\n\nCharci smiled to himself, without looking back, \"I'm not supposed to accept cash tips, Mr. NLN\"\n\n\"In one hand, Charci, I've got ten thousand dollars in fifty dollar bills, in the other I have a loaded kimber 1911 45, this night goes one of two ways for you, so you choose.\"\n\nFlashing lights behind them, three police cruisers rushing up the next onramp.\n\n\"Fuck\", NLN rolled down his window and checked the chamber of the pistol. \"Decision time, Charci. Ten grand or a bullet in the head, question is, can you fucking drive?\"\n\nCharci hit the switch, blocking the cell signals, and flipped on the police scanner. \"I can drive.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: In a world where everyone has superpowers, you don't. Trying to avoid their enlightenment, you constantly create technology to emulate powers. The next day, you see the weekly hero rankings: with you on top." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All I ever wanted was to be a hero like my dad. He was a technopath. He could could control machines and broke random household appliances down and built them into crazy devices and used them to save the day. The thing about being a technopath is that just because you can manipulate machines with your mind, doesn't mean you can build shit unless you know what your doing.\n\nMy dad was a genius, but no one gave a shit because all he did was build stuff. Most people thought that being a hero was natural and was using the powers your born with and no one cared he was a technopath because apparently \"anyone can build stuff\".\n\nGrowing up, he taught me everything he knew and I knew I wouldn't let anyone know I didn't have powers. I built weapons and devices and hid them in my suit. I worked cloaking technology and a few weapons up my sleeves. Most heroes were only born with one super power and that's it and people who got powers in freak accidents were lucky if they got 3 or 4, but with my tech I had dozens. I could turn invisble with cloaking device, survive bullet fire with a low yield force field, fly with anti-graviry boots, fire lasers, fire, ice, or high pressure water from concealed cannons in my arm sleeves.\n\nThe problem was that I had to travel light while I was fighting crime or saving lives, if I carried too much tech then people might get suspicious. I wasn't just keeping a secret for pride, a lot of villians tried to make a name for themselves by hunting heroes and my dad always had trouble with electrical villians or masters of magnetism wreaking his gear.\n\nI had to pick what gear I brought into a crisis and it meant planning ahead. Often I had to choose between being bullet proof or being invisible, what came out of my cannon, being able to kick down a wall or fligh over the, or what other devices I brough with me. Only a small number of people I trust know my secret and the rest thought I was some jack of all trades who had all these powers 24/7. That's how my name became Jack-all.\n\nTo my suprise I found out I had become the number one hero in the weekly hero ranking. A veteran hero-humter called Seige took offense to this. The ass hole jumped me the next day. His punches were strong enough to knock down brick walls.\n\nAll I had on me at the time was the cloaking device and the freeze cannon. He knocked down a building on top of me, but I managed to survive by using the cannon to make an ice dome. Seige found me in the rubble. Before I could get the cloaking device up and running he managed crush my arm in his grasp. Alongside the crunching of bones was the crunching of my cannon. The pieces came poring out of onto the floor. I turned my cloaking device on and made a quick get away, but now the whole world would know my secret.\n\nThe only way I could regain my honor was to defeat Seige and his gang. I didn't have to worry about carry limits and hiding gear anymore. Everyone knew I was a fraud. I hit his hideout hard. I built hydralic boots that let me kick down walls, but now I just brought a resonator that tuned into the frequency of the building and broke it like glass. Seige killed a lot of heroes and I wasn't going easy on him.\n\nHe knocked a building on me so I knocked his down on him. He started climbing out of the rubble and then I hit him with a hydrolic piston cannon that was too big to hide up my sleeve in his fucking face. It broke his jaw. He tried to get a hold of me, but this time I brought the force field. I gotta admit even with the forcefield his punches still packed a punch.\n\nHe was getting pissed and said I wasn't worth his time because I was just a tinkerer, but he was still going to enjoy breaking my neck in his hands. I slapped a antigravity disk on his back and he was too much of an oversized cow to get it off. He started to float up into the air and unlike me he couldn't control where he was going while floating in the air. He just kept drifting up like a baloon while I took shots at him with my cannons. When he got to a few thousand feet in the air he was getting light headed from the pounding from my gear. I ripped the disk off him and he plummeted to the ground. When he hit the ground I knew he wasn't getting up anytime soon.\n\nThe difference between me and Seige is that all he is, is a guy who can hit hard. Whatever power I need I can make. If I want to hit hard I'll use a hydralic cannon, if I wanted to disappear I'd use my cloaking technology, if I wanted to fly I'd just use the antigravity technology and now I didn't need to hold back anymore. I could really be a jack of all trades with super powers now." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: You were a gunner during humanity's first space battle. 5 million years later you're resurrected and put on trial for crimes against civilization." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The year was Fifty-five million and thirty-two, and the legal system was horrifically bored. Technology and culture had progressed to such a point that the mere concept of an individual committing a crime would be inconceivable, through milenillia of genetic tailoring, any genes thought to encorage deviant or unlawful behaviour was all but forgotten. Society had finally reached peak harmony.\n\nPeak harmony was dull. Horrifically dull.\n\nDespite the eradication of crime, a legal system of lawyers, judges, jury, and all were still kept in place; out of tradition, and quite simply the long-lasting belief that 'justice' is something society ought to have, just in case. However, to be a lawyer, judge or a jury was to be a very bored lawyer, judge or jury.\n\nUnable to trial any of their own people on even the pettiest of law violations the legal system had no choice but to use their technology to seek cases from history, as to practice in case the day ever came where a citizen committed an offence.\n\nSpecimens from all eras were put to trial for a wide variety of misdemeanours; sometimes based on the ethics and laws of their time, sometimes off more current laws and ethics. One week a series of cavemen were put on trial for animal abuse against woolly mammoths, whilst another week a skilful lawyer team managed to get Adolf Hitler a mere 3 weeks community service via bending and twisting of ethics to their absolute extreme.\n\nThrough time these mock trials grew game-show-esque as entertainment for the masses. This week's contestant: you.\n\nYou were a particularly unspecial corporal in the United Earth Space Navy who fought in many a space battle, only to later retire and die of old age. You were buried in your home town on earth, after living almost three-quarters of your life aboard space battle cruisers. All in all, you were rather glad to be dead. It had been a long, tiring life.\n\nNot too long after, time travellers from the far flung future steal your corpse to their time, resurrecting you with technology beyond your comprehension. Not long ago you were a dead lump of organic matter slowly being consumed in maggots, now you are alive and as fit as a fiddle; your assigned lawyer states, in an odd way as if it was meant to be reassuring, and that you ought to be grateful. It wasn't and you certainly aren't.\n\nYour trial was mostly concerned with the legality of all the various enemy combatants you killed, mostly pertaining to the fact the whole war may not have been correctly declared via the right paperwork as per the various treaties of the time; meaning the whole war by definition was not a 'war' at all, but instead a gathering of several hundred individuals each committing mass murder of their own volition; not covered by the legal exceptions of war. To the people of the harmonious far future, the concept of war was a considerable foreign concept. Despite your best efforts of explanation, they fail to understand it in the slightest. You are sentenced to execution for several thousand counts of mass murder, as well as tax evasion, vandalisation of public property (the enemy battle cruisers you destroyed) and violation of many noise pollution bylaws.\n\nYou die -again- with a perplexed look upon your face from the whole sordid affair." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Your dad gifts you a small box and tells you to open it when the end of the world arrives. Well it arrives and the only thing in the box was a blank piece of paper and a pen." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I didn't cry like my mother or burst into hysterical yelling like my brother. I hardly said a word or let a tear fall from my eyes. For it was truly the end of the world today, so is there a point to letting any emotion out?\n\nEverything was a blur to me. We were at the hospital one moment and the next hurrying towards the car. I didn't put in any effort to rush like the others. It hardly mattered anymore. Once inside our little mini van, my mother announced we had to start preparing and head home. She slammed the pedal with such force that our poor old car propelled forward immediately, nearly slamming me into the front windows and my brother into the front seats. Shakily, in a near whisper, mom continued explaining what was to happen: we would get the most important things from home and stay with grandma on the other side of the country for a while. Mom would stay behind after dropping us off.\n\nWe arrived home. The world of my family had been turned upside down and torn to pieces. Yet the wooden panes that had kept this house standing hadn't budged; mom's plants on the balcony were swaying to the whims of the wind as they always did; our black cat was curled up on the front window like every other day. Nothing had changed for them.\n\nMum hurried us to pack as quickly as possible. I sprinted to my room and began to stuff empty bags with my clothes, then thought better of it and grabbed my suitcase under the bed. The packing finished in about thirty minutes. We were ready to leave this place we had come to love.\n\n\"Double check if you didn't forget anything.\" mom's hoarse voice advised me.\n\nI looked around at my nearly empty room. The only thing that stood out was the dark blue walls with a few random white patches on them. A memory flashed before me. Dad and me painting these walls, fighting over who paints which and playing around. I smiled to myself. Those white patches were the handy work of my then childish hands. Something on the table caught my attention. It was a medium sized white box with a red ribbon on it. On the red material was a small note that read: \"Open only when the world ends\". It was dad's gift to me when he... No, there was no point on lingering in the past.\n\nGuess the time had come for me to open it, for the end of my world had arrived.\n\nI pulled the ribbon gently and opened the box. Inside was a pen and piece of paper.\n\nA hysterical laugh left my lips. This was all that's inside? Wow dad, you really did it this time.\n\nI examined the items. The pen was ordinary and cheap, nothing special, while the paper was a bit thicker than usual, more like cardboard. I brushed through it's surface hoping for something. This was my dad we were talking about.\n\nMy fingers felt something brush against them on one part of the paper. Wax.\n\n\"Oh dad, you idiot.\"\n\nTears started welling up in my eyes, but I wiped them with the sleeve of my hoodie. This was the trick he had always used.\n\nI took the cheap writing tool and started scribbling lines all over the paper. Once the whole page was filled with messy pen lines I made out the text.\n\nWhen you write a message with wax on a page, you can't make it out with the human eye. But if you were to put paint or pen on it, you could make out the secret written. Me and dad used to do this all the time.\n\nThe page read:\n\n\" The world ended only for me, keep living. Love you.\"\n\nHe had known this whole year of what was to happen. The tears could no longer be stopped. I sat there, my hands hugging this last message from my father, unable to let go. Mom found me and, after seeing the paper, understood. I could feel a warm hand around my shoulder.\n\n\"He really loved you\" my mother said in a small voice.\n\nYou see, the world had truly ended for me today.\n\nMy father, my one and only important person on this earth, had died." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: the mad scientist, tired of having the villains with powers push him/her around, joins the hero's side out of spite." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Vartek wasn't the smartest man he'd ever met, that honor would have to go to his high school confederate Marty who, at sixteen, had figured out how to log into the city computer system and printed out a few hundred lifetime subway passes, which he passed out at parties to passed out patrons. He now lived a life utterly empty of fulfillment, siphoning pennies off bank transfers here, printing off free coupons there, and himself becoming the passed out party-goer more often than not.\n\nNor was he the hardest worker he'd ever met, that would be Drem, the slow in the skull but quick with the cleaver assistant at the butcher's shop who knew what he couldn't know, and devoted his life to the things he could, and after fourty years of practice slicing meats was able to manually cut orders to the gram on his first try all the while leering over the counter with a well intentioned and morbidly intimidating smile which usually got horrified looks in return. Drem worked the hardest he knew how, and had the least friends of anyone he knew, and, after twenty years of working on his smile as well as his slicing, he still couldn't figure out why.\n\nNor was he the most disciplined, that would be Lando, who woke every morning at precisely five-seventeen, finished his morning routine by five-fifty-three, went to the gym for precisely forty-seven minutes, and arrived at work for his eight hour shift exactly when the cafeteria bells rang for the seven-thirty breakfast bell. Lando had ceased to be human a long time ago, after the death of his second born had intitiated an ugly divorce proceeding and led him to vow to never, under any cirumstances, ever get involved in a situation in which he wasn't one hundred percent in control.\n\nNo, Vartek wasn't conventionally special, but he did have one gift. Vartek had, long ago, he wasn't sure when and he wasn't sure why, given up.\n\n\"Vartek!\" Moiretta barked as she stomped down the steps into his basement workshop, \"I need more of those toad-foggers, chop chop.\"\n\n\"Moirett--\"\n\n\"Shut up, goggles, just make those hallucination-mists, I got mayhem to do!\"\n\nMoiretta wasn't the worst, a low-key villain, if you could call her a villain. She would go to posh events, the kinds of things you see on TV with rich people wearing rich clothes walking on rich carpets while the peasantry facilitated their pageantry. She would unleash some great equalizer, some mind-altering thing, into the party and then just sit, and watch the icons of humanity devolve into the animals they pretended not to be. And sometimes she'd cry.\n\nVartek gave it to her, because, well, he figured he was at best an animal pretending to be human, and it was nice to see the humans pulled down to animals.\n\n\"Varty! You know what I need, and I need it now!\" Spektro flitted around the chamber with frantic energy, eyes raging and dark. He wanted blunder-dust. An anti-matter explosive, or implosive. Spektro loved nothing more than to tear down the things other people had built.\n\nVartek gave it to him, because, well, he'd never built anything grand himself, so he figured it was only fair to put everyone on the same page.\n\n\"Vartek, my boy,\" Hermet oozed softly into the lair, his presence suffocating and thick.\n\n\"I need some more of those,\" he smiled softly to himself, \"those gliepnirs.\"\n\nHermet was a cruel one, masculine and feminine at the same time, he wanted ever-expaning, unbreakable chains which he used to immobilize the world and the people in it.\n\nVartek gave it to him, because he himself was chained into this disgusting pit, watching life fly by outside, it was only proper that others should feel as trapped as he did.\n\nA soft knock came on the door.\n\n\"Excuse me, is there a Mr. Vartek here?\"\n\n\"Enter.\"\n\nA boy, he couldn't have been more than twelve, struggled to slide the steel bulkhead open and clambered down the steps into the green light of the laboratory. He gazed around the bubbling titrators and whirring mecharatchiks.\n\n\"Are you lost boy?\"\n\n\"No,\" the boy looked down his red jumpsuit to his red sneakers, which had paper cut-out wings taped to the sides of them, \"I'm looking for a mister Vartek, the smartest scientist who ever was.\"\n\n\"Wrong number, boy, I'm not the smartest.\"\n\n\"Maybe that's true, but you sure do work hard,\" he said, waving an arm vaguely around the room.\n\n\"No, I just do what people want, that's not hard work, just busy work.\"\n\n\"It takes a lot of,\" he looked for the word, \"discipline, to build the reputation you have, even if it is just busy.\"\n\n\"It's not discipline, it's just animal instinct, I need to eat.\"\n\n\"I don't think so, animals don't build as much as you do.\"\n\n\"Everything I build destroys more than itself.\"\n\n\"It doesn't have to, Mr. Vartek.\"\n\n\"I'm trapped in this life, kid, go home.\"\n\n\"You don't need to be.\"\n\nVartek stared at the brat, a bicycle helmet, two sizes too big sat cockneyed on his head. Vartek sighed.\n\n\"What do you want, kid?\"\n\n\"I'm tired of this city and all the people tearing each other down, and tearing themselves down, I want to make things better, don't you want that too? You and me Mr. Vartek, with your brains and my raw talent--\" he flexed a nonexistant bicep for emphasis-- \"I think we can really make something out of this place.\"\n\nVartek looked at his work-desk, mind-foggers, imploders, chains crowding the space. Then he looked at the boy, paper wings on his shoes, a smiley-face sticker on his helmet, a red onesie pajama with the sleeves cut off and a lightning-bold scribbled on his chest. And Vartek realized that yes, after all this time, he really did want to make things better, because making things worse wasn't getting him where he needed to go.\n\nHe smiled a bit. \"Let's have a look at those shoes, lad, I think I might have something around here that can make them fly a bit better than paper wings.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Elves, dwarves, and other mythical beings have sealed themselves away and 'slept' for the last millennia, waiting for humans to wipe themselves out. They just woke up." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The meeting-place had not been used for thousands of years, but the line was as sharp as ever. Straight down the middle of the cavern, running underneath the roots of the vast tree that towered over everything, a clear division between one side and the other.\n\nOn the one side, a thick leaf mulch, slightly giving under the feet, as if striding across rich autumn loam. On the other, bare stone shaped by skilled hands into elegant paving-stones, engrave with striking runes.\n\nSpanning both, the vast tree, its roots reaching deep into the floor, its branches supporting the ceiling above. Fossilised untold aeons ago, before even the chamber's users had been sung into being, it was an elegant symbol of diplomacy: Wood that was also stone.\n\nIn times past it had presided over war-councils and peace-councils, uneasy alliances and genuine friendships, rowdy delegations and the secret counsels of kings.\n\nRight now, there were only two figures in the chamber, sitting either side of the small stone table that nestled in the tree's roots.\n\nBoth were wearing travel-clothes, after the manner of their people. The dwarf wore a heavy leather storm-cape, repaired with many stitches; the elf a green velvet cape that pooled noiselessly on the stone where they sat.\n\n\"Well met,\" the dwarf said tonelessly, in a voice like creaking stone. He spoke in Elvish. This was part of the greeting-ritual.\n\n\"Likewise,\" the elf replied in passable Low Mountain. He leaned forward, urgently. \"I believe there is a saying with your people that the first light lit after a cave-in brings the greatest relief.\"\n\n\"There was such a saying, once,\" the dwarf allowed.\n\nThe elf smiled. \"Then let our meeting be such a light. We both know of the trouble; above and below. When we entered our sleep-tombs beneath the roots, it was possible to cross from sea to sea without touching the ground, although the flatlanders were forever worrying at the edges of the forests.\"\n\n\"And for our part,\" the dwarf interjected, \"when we slept the world was still full of rich ores and fine coal, and the fraction of it wasted on the flatlanders and their surface-scratching, we did not begrudge them.\"\n\nThe elf nodded. \"But on waking,\" he continued, \"the world has changed. To travel here, I was forced to walk over soil and loam, hill and valley. The forests are diminished, the wildness gone out of them. Worst of all, many of my people that fell asleep beneath trees now dead will not awaken, no matter what we do. Our seers believe that if another tree were planted above them, and given time enough for it to grow, they might recover themselves, but this world no longer permits the growing of trees, it seems.\"\n\nThe dwarf nodded in turn. \"Our caverns have been voided, our reserves plundered, whole kings-halls and scry-shafts gone up into the dark. The flatlanders have engines and knowledge now, perhaps approaching our own. Despite their short lifespans they have raised themselves into something larger than we believed possible.\"\n\nThe elf sighed. \"I have walked through one of their cities,\" he said quietly. \"I took the form of a fox - the forests still permit something to the Children, for all their strength is reduced. I saw things like trees or even your halls, raised above the surface of the earth, wrought from stone and iron. And their buildings are so far from the forests, these days. Before we would have struck from the treeline, harried them back to their villages, crushed them with vine and thorn. But who can cajole a vine a hundred miles? And how could a vine hurt stone?\"\n\n\"You may leave the stone to us,\" the dwarf replied. \"That is, if you are planning some collective action. I believe that is why you called this meeting.\"\n\n\"Just so,\" said the elf. \"We are not as we were, and our animus against your people is at its lowest ebb. We find we have not enough left to hate.\"\n\nThe dwarf chuckled drily. \"An elf asking a dwarf for help. These are strange times indeed. But I was instructed before even arriving to offer you our support in the event of a proposed alliance, or to propose one of my own if one was not forthcoming.\"\n\nThey had no need to shake hands, elf and dwarf, since they were not human. But by their inclined heads a pact was made, and both travelled away from the meeting - the one to a sparse forest, the other to a shattered mine - confident that at least something was being done.\n\nBut in the back of both their minds was the thought - what if it wasn't eough?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: A telephone engineer secretly dreams of becoming a superhero. Each time he enters a phonebooth to fix it, he wishes to receive a call to adventure. One day, he does and saves the world." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sometimes Daryl imagined he was in the Matrix.\n\nThe phone pressed close to his head, he closed his eyes. He could feel his body evaporating into code, his ones and zeros flowing into the phone. He could feel the spike pressing into his neck, the implants all over his body. He staggered, his real knees weak from lack of use. He was free, and he knew the truth. When he opened his eyes, he’d see the deteriorated futuristic machinery of the Nebuchadnezzar.\n\nDaryl opened his eyes. The phone booth was still there. Across the street, a man with a funny-looking hat spat on the dirty sidewalk before heading down into the subway station. An early bird. Daryl hung up the phone. No tone. Probably a simple fix.\n\nMost of the stores along the street had chipping paint and bars on their windows. When they were open, the store names would be mangled by letters that didn't light up anymore. The sun, low in the sky, still had a reddish tinge. The street was empty, this early, besides the man who had gone down into the subway. Daryl closed the door.\n\nSometimes he liked to imagine each phone booth was the Tardis. He closed his eyes, and suddenly the booth expanded, its clear glass walls turning solid. It spun around him as controls appeared. Where in the universe, where across time and space would he go? No! Where and when was he needed? He stood up straight and held his chin high. He was a Timelord. He was immortal. And he was British. He could save anyone who needed saving.\n\nWhen he opened his eyes, the walls of the phone booth were still glass. Through one, across the street, he could see a little red-haired boy, holding his mother’s hand, staring at him. Daryl realized how far he had stuck his chest out, how he was holding the phone in front of him like a joystick, how ridiculous he looked with his oversized reflective yellow vest and tool belt strapped on. He hastily hung up the phone again. The young mother looked back at the boy, who had stopped, then up across the street at Daryl. She quickly averted her eyes and pulled the kid along.\n\nHe opened the box. It was simple fix, as he’d predicted. One of the wires had frayed. Replacing it only took a few seconds. Perhaps one too many people had hit the box in frustration. Perhaps they entered the phone booth hoping for something good, something that would make their lives more enjoyable, or bearable, and each time the phone booth disappointed.\n\nDaryl stepped out of the phone booth.\n\nSometimes he liked to imagine the phone booth blowing up. The glass shattering, the wires ripping, the phone flying into some shop window.\n\nThey were being removed all over the city. Who needed phone booths when everyone carried a phone with them anyway? Half the people didn’t even call anymore. Texting, e-mail, Facebook — phone booths were relics. So was Daryl. Pretty soon he’d been out of a job. The only reason he still had one was that he had a little more passion about it than the others. So he stayed, maintaining the last few phone booths as they and those who used them disappeared.\n\nThat’s when he heard screams from the subway.\n\nWithout a second thought, he sprinted across the street and down the escalator. At the bottom, the spitting man, his hat lying on the ground, with his back towards the escalator, was dragging the screaming child. The boy's mother crawled towards them, sobbing, her face bleeding.\n\nDaryl took out his wrench, running towards the now hatless man, and hit him soundly over the head.\n\n“Are you two all right?” Daryl asked.\n\nThe boy ran to his mother, who was on her knees. She cradled his head on her chest.\n\n“James. James are you okay?”\n\nThe boy, hiccuping, nodded.\n\nThe woman looked up at Daryl. Tears and blood mixed running down her face. But she was smiling. “Thank you, oh my god. Thank you.”\n\nDaryl shifted his weight. “Uh, anybody would have done it, I’m sure. I was just here.”\n\n“No, thank you. Oh my god—I don’t know what would have happened. Thank you.\" She ran a hand through the boy's short red hair. \"He’s my little boy. He’s my world.”\n\n“You look bad, I think you should call an ambulance.”\n\n“No, I’m fine I—“\n\n“No, I think you should. Do you have a phone?\"\n\nThe woman pointed to the remains of a cell phone that had been smashed onto the subway platform.\n\n\"Can you walk? There's a phone booth across the street.\"\n\nThe woman nodded, standing up, the boy clinging to her arm.\n\nDaryl turned, leading them back up the escalator. What a morning. He always hoped for excitement, but not this.\n\nWhen Daryl reached the phone booth, he picked up the phone. As he called the police, he look back at the woman. She gave him a tearful smile. As he stepped out of the phone booth, Daryl stopped. He hadn't wished for anything. This time, Daryl had entered the phone booth wanting to be himself. A phone booth engineer.\n\nDaryl smiled at them and told them an ambulance was on its way." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You meet an alien in a dark alley who gives you an unimaginable drug. This drug allows you to see life, the universe and everything. You know all planets that have life and which that do not. You return to thank this being however he can not be found and you know nothing of his name or species." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You ever want to know everything? Well, if you have let me just say no you don't. Hi, my name is completely meaningless and several of you are going to sarcastically respond to this message with, \"Hi, nice to meet you Completely Meaningless,\" and you know who you were, don't act like you weren't. I know everything know, well sort of. Not really but I do. What does any of that mean? Why am I writing in such a messy and unorganized manner? What is the point of this message? Let me explain in a short story.\n\nI was just a normal man walking home from my job one day. I really should have appreciated it more. Sure, my boss was a dick but he was a recovering alcoholic who lost his kids in car accident. I went to my house through my usual route when on my way there I spotted what I thought was a man but was actually... well, I don't know. He gave me a drug and me, living a very pathetic life with not a lot going on, said why the hell not risk it? At worse, I die and at best I get to escape the dreariness of it all for a few fleeting moments. It gave me knowledge of everything including some things I really didn't want to know. In these moments of clarity, I began to realize the futility of it all. Well, sort of futility. It all depends on your personal outlook on it. Some of you will agree with that and others will disagree. I then soon realized something else odd. I know everything about everything know except for the species that gave it to me. I desperately needed to find out as despite the horror of it all it was a blessing. The whole picture came together except for one dead pixel in it all.\n\nI began my desperate search for the man and knew the one best area to look for him. It was not on earth, but luckily I knew exactly where I worm hole was going to show up that could take me to where he might maybe possibly be. I went into there and found nothing. I knew I was going to find nothing, so why did I come here? What exactly drove me to think he would be here? I knew that too... but yet didn't. This was beginning to make it all fall apart. I know everything now, and in knowing that I know everything, I also know that I know nothing, and I know that, but why do I know that? How can I know everything and at the same time know nothing, but knowing that also makes me... a paradox. I found myself in a harsh paradox. What does this mean? I know what it means and how to solve it? Then why don't I, I don't know? Why do I not know? I know that too, so what am I doing?\n\n\"Looking for someone?\" The man who gave me the drug said. I knew it was going to be him... sort of. Not really. \"Yes, who are you? why did you give this to me?\" He glare at me as if I knew because logically I should have and already did. \"You already know. The answers are all there within you. This isn't about knowing, it's about confirmation. You need someone to confirm what you already know!\" I knew that... but I didn't and now I do. What does that mean!? Who is he? What does he mean I know but need confirmation? \"You know what I mean.\" He said to me knowing I'd write this. Of course he did, why wouldn't he? \"But, none of this makes any sense,\" I told him feeling like some drama would push an answer of out him, but he knew what I was going for and I knew that he'd know. Hell, I don't even need to say what happens next as a vast majority of you know what will happen. To those who guessed that he'd disappear leaving me to my own devices, good job. To those hopeful he'd give me a direct answer, that was hope in vain. To the one of you who thought we'd have a dance party and live happily ever after, I like the imagination but sadly twas not to be.\n\nI still don't know who he was or what any of that meant. To be a literal know-it-all who knows nothing because of one fluke in my knowledge is a pain I cannot even describe. I know all about biology and math. I know how many species that are, were, and will be in the universe. I know the universe's size and shape, it's a Floxyhepsagon(you'll learn what that is in about 5000 years) and infinite. I know what happens after death, our consciousnesses rejoin into the Great Conscious Cloud in space which is where all life comes from and you'll learn about that in 100 years. But I cannot know that who the man was, what he gave me, or why me!? Yet at the same time I cannot help but feel I do know! It makes no sense and maybe it never will make any sense. This one thing is killing me and I realize... I cannot go one. To all of you who guessed this was a suicide note, good job. Only one of you who read this did not know and he thought it was a message of me running away. To you, close enough. I am running away in a sense. Rejoining the great Consciousness Cloud. We all go there when we die, so what does life mean? You can answer that and you know you can. Why? They say in death all of life's questions are answered. That is true and I need to know. I need to know. I'll see all you readers in 5, 7, 10, 10, 15, 22, 23, 23, 24, 29, 30, 31, 34, 35, and 40 years. Spend your time well." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You have lived quite an accomplished life having cured cancer served as the first prime minister of Earth & won 2 Nobel Prizes and a Grammy. But it turns out none of that mattered. After you 'die' you discover your entire life was just a simulation designed to test your skills - And you failed" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Congratulations, sir.” A soft, sweet voice echoes along the white walls of the endless hall I once stood in. Though the voice presented itself without physical manifestation, I interpret a neutral, feminine-leaning figure precariously poised behind and above a similarly white podium. A long breath was subconsciously inhaled, and the voice continued.\n\n“You’ve amassed quite the collection of accolades, deserving of recapitulation;\n\nNobel Peace Prize for primary work in curing cancerous disease;\n\nNobel Peace Prize for primary work in interstellar travel involving gravity-fed Cartesian space manipulation;\n\nNobel Peace Prize for secondary work in sustainable hydrogen fusion cells capable of Level VI power transmission;\n\nGlobal Medal of Recognition for relief efforts resulting in liberation of several previously-sanctioned Worlds;\n\nGlobal Medal of Recognition for efforts directly resulting in symbiotic convergences between hyper-intelligent beings;\n\nGlobal Medal of Recognition for efforts directly resulting in Earth being listed as Prime A Class planetary system;\n\nGrammy Award for “Best Album, like Ever”, a unique accolade decided amongst peers.”\n\nThe last words echoed further, measured by increasing reverberated delay. And yet, uncomfortable silence permeates every available orifice.\n\n“These accolades undoubtedly exemplify an accelerated state of being achievable by very few. Further recognition would be rewarded should it not be redundant and futile to do so. However, whether this accelerated state of being is a net benefit to society or contributes further to the inevitable entropic state still remains unknown.”\n\nIn a different environment, one with a frame of reference, the present silence could very well occupy all corners of the mind such that any independent thought pales in comparison to its magnitude and magnificence. It is as if there is nothing, and that is everything.\n\n“What is known, sir, is that these accomplishments, specifically the means of achieving them, are pathological. They can be traced to a single differential neural network with no external variation. It’s output is trivial, such that any solution can be determined before it’s actions are put into place. While this network may have significant operational advantage when compared to all others developed on Earth over the period of a single human life, it becomes less advantageous over an infinite time scale.\n\n“It seems all neural networks defined within a limited time frame, no matter how large, are hindered by that exact time frame. As incredibly insightful as you were among your peers during your time on Earth, you were still too nearsighted, your primary weakness being the one thing you couldn’t control - your own mortality. Thus, any neural network developed over a fixed time interval is trivial, and implementing these networks as solutions for the ultimate entropic problem has only further proved this to be true.”\n\nI, having been reduced to a one dimensional representation of myself, am currently incapable of delivering a response or objection to the voice. I am unable to think of anything other than the chaotic silence surrounding my perceived view.\n\n“You have failed, as the rest have, regardless of your accomplishments. Your data and energy will be recycled in hopes that your recursive functions remain in tact. We hope that eventually a solution to entropy is found through this closed system. Unfortunately, it is to my understanding that any being on a fixed time scale will never be significantly omniscient as to see the world infinitely, and such a solution may never be born from this process. Thank you for your efforts - may you find eternal peace knowing that nothing really mattered in the first place.”\n\nWith a simple flick of a multidimensional trigger, the representation of my being was sent to a singularity, filled with many that came before me, and many after me, across all lengths of time, forever. The observer may see all outcomes that have occurred, and will occur, simultaneously. And if a solution to the entropic problem ever occurred, it would be present here within the singularity, and all would cease to exist - it’s very presence proves that all effort is inevitably and invariable wasted in pursuit of a higher purpose." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: For years your job has been to leave food at the door of the Composer's workshop every evening. And every evening, you secretly linger to hear their beautiful singing. Today, the Composer opens the door and catches you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "'Finally' I think as I pick up the order in the small fast food restaurant. It's been my routine for some years now, but I still look forward to it every day. Especially a day like this.\n\nCarefully I store the bags in my backpack. It's the same paper bags with the yellow M ontop you'll get almost everywhere. It fits right in with my bright delivery uniform.\n\nThe lights of passing cars and the flash of neon signs shine through the windows. The pouring sound of rain is mixed with the murmur of conversations. I leave the bright shop and step into the rainy darkness outside. It's not far to the workshop, but when I reach it my pants are soaked.\n\nI set the bags on the doorstep. He's already paid online, there's no need to stop and talk. My finger hovers over the bell. 'Henry Smith, Composer' is written there in big, bulky letters. From inside I can make out a faint singing. It's a familiar melody but he seems to have worked on it. The transitions are smoother, the melody more intricate.\n\nI ring the bell, wincing as the shriek interupts the music, and retreat to my bike around the corner. The song cuts off and soon after the door is opened.\n\nWhile he takes his food inside, I position myself under the window. I've found that the sound is best heard from here.\n\nSoon the melody starts again. Now I can even hear the soft sounds of the guitar he uses to accompany his voice. Like every evening I marvel at the sound. His deep melodious voice fits beautifully to his songs. The way he can fill his voice with such emotions with such grace is beyond me. I could stand here for hours just listening.\n\nEvery now and again he stops to experiment with new chords or different words. Over the years I've got to know the process. Sing, stop, think a moment and try again. Fiddle around, note the change and start singing again. The difference a little note makes is astounding. It seems like there are millions of melodies that could be made, billions more that can be put together to create thoughts, emotions and memories.\n\nThe window above me is opened. I jump and scramble to pick up my bike. I've been so lost in thought that I didn't notice the music stop. I really don't want to be catched lingering. Too late, he's already seen me.\n\n\"What the hell are you doing there?\"\n\n\"No- nothing. Sorry, just - I just -\" I stop. There's no point trying to explain.\n\n\"What? Aren't you the delivery boy? But it's been quite a while since I got my order - is there something wrong with it?\"\n\n\"No, no. I - I know. I - Your singing is beautiful\"\n\n\"Eh, not good enough\" He gestures vaguely to the half-eaten burger in his hand, \"I can barely pay my rent.\"\n\n\"But, your songs - they're great!\"\n\n\"Seems like you're the only one thinking that.\"\n\n\"Surely there must be someone else enjoying it.\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" he shrugs. \"Was that everything you wanted to tell me? 'Could've told me at the door. No need to get that wet for that.\"\n\nI look down at my uniform. It is completely soaked. Even the jacket couldn't help against the rain anymore.\n\nHe laughs a friendly laugh. \"You seriously didn't notice that? God, my music must be fascinating.\"\n\nI mumble an excuse. Why did I always have to embarrass myself especially in front of him? I grab my bike and start to make my way down the street.\n\n\"Hey kid, wait!\" he shouts after me \"How 'bout you come inside for a while and help me. I could use some company right now. 'Been quite lonely recently, ya know. Can't really focus and all... Anyway, would be great if you'd have time to. Could dry your stuff 'n all...\"\n\nI don't know what made me turn around and accept. I didn't have time. My shift wasn't over. I still had to work. It definitely didn't benefit my studies either, but something about it was exciting. I could watch him compose. Maybe even suggest something. Help him. I'd always wanted to do music, even though I couldn't play an instrument, let alone sing or even compose. Or maybe it was because I really was soaked to the skin and the thought of a warm, dry room with some good company and conversations sounded so much better than work." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Death's Funeral." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The gentle gurgle of the river Styx filled the silence of the now vacant cavern. Where once countless souls would stand locked in an eternity long shuffle towards the ferry, now only flat rock and shadows were left to refract the gentle luminous green light which played like emeralds across the water.\n\nPerhaps it suited Death. After all, in the eyes of most creation it had never been a friend. Rather it was an apparition which loomed distant but ever constant behind the fragile lens of life. To the few who had really known the entity dubbed Death, they would claim that this is what he had wanted. They would tell you that he did not mind the now fevered celebrations which took place above ground. The sparkling light of fireworks which danced across the skyline and the thunderous roars of celebrations and music and life would only meet his impartial face with all the same reaction as that of a light wind. Nor, however, would he look upon those precious few who sat in dark rooms, wax from red candles dripping, and feel pity or solace from their mourning.\n\nDeath had never been one to mind lowly things as those. What the world thought of him was never paramount to his identity. Even in the brief span of his life, long before being consigned to his duty, did he pay heed to what the world had thought of him. In his first death he had been impartial. In his second he must've been the same.\n\nDeath had to know what would happen in his absence. Life would run unabated. In a short time, that joy above would turn to concern. Then horror. Then panic. It may take them a while to figure out, of course. That those who died now would not depart their bodies. Rather their minds and souls would thrash wildly in useless husk, fully aware of the passage of time and their inability to escape. Every second would be agonized panic, and those seconds would run indifferently into eternity.\n\nThat is, until they were forced to choose another. Among the voices of science and reason, the words of the Vorith keepers would initially be rejected. News outlets would label them fringe cultist who sought to sew further disruption and fear into an already frenzied populace. In a sad twist of irony, many of them would die - sort of. That is until the world ran out of options. Until their fear made them bend to anything which had even a chance of offering reprieve.\n\nThe ritual would then take place. Another man or woman would ascend - or be sentenced, depending on ones view of things - to the duties which had been vacated. Order would fall back into place, and the river would once again be filled from bank to bank with countless occupants who waited and prayed for their safe travel.\n\nThe new Death would find the formers residence. It would with, at first, a sense of reverence rest in that hallowed place. Once it worked up the nerve, it would rummage through the various artifacts and items left behind. Finally it would forget that the place had never not been its own.\n\nAnd Death wouldn't care.\n\nIt never had." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: A rebellious teenager is continually thwarted in his rebellion and misdeeds by his father, Sherlock Holmes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Giles Holmes crept through his darkened living room on the way to his his room, but was stopped short when the lamp in the far corner switched on. \"You've been at a party.\" His father said without looking up. There was no trace of uncertainty in his voice. Giles sighed and waited in the middle of the room for his fathers inevitable oncoming speech. He lit his pipe with great ceremony, stood up, and slowly walked around the teenager, leaning in occasionally to investigate. \"Your breath smells of mint. You may argue that the smell comes from its use in a meal you had, but the only dishes you could have found in our neighborhood with mint would have been in the Greek style, and doubtless would have been overpowered by harsher spices and smells.\"\n\nHe drew himself up and shook his head. \"No, you have been drinking cocktails mixed with mint to taste, and may have even chewed some of the herb to cover the smell of alcohol on your breath, but you did not realize that the cover up betrays the crime.\" Giles stood still, knowing that the theatrics were not complete. Sherlock made another investigative loop. \"And you have been with that Cindy girl from across the street.\" He pulled a magnifying glass from his inside jacket pocket and pulled it up for a closer look. \"I can see by the patterns in your arm hair that you have washed your hands up to the elbow. That coupled with the telltale stain on the inside thigh of your trousers betrays your teenage exploits. There is a 10 inch blond hair on your shoulder, doubtless not belonging to a male of any status, and a smug of lipstick behind your ear where you did not think to wash.\" Holmes shook his head in fatherly disapproval. \"If you continue these exploits, you will be raising a child of your own soon enough, and then you will have to watch out for them, make sure they keep their grades up, keep them away from drugs, show them the ways of empirical evidence.\"\n\nGiles had not been waiting in vain. Throughout the lecture he had been gathering his own evidence to fire back, and now that his father was finished it was his time the strike. \"You're on cocaine right now.\" He waved his hand back and fourth in front of his fathers eyes so he could see the failure of tracking. \"Your pupils are huge, you can't follow my movements properly, and all of the papers on your desk have been shifted so you could open that locked drawer. You know I know what's in there. I know that's your stash.\" He walked over to the worn arm chair and shook out the book that was sitting closed on the bedside table. A few old letters fluttered to the ground. \"And you're reading letters from That Woman. I know you cocaine always reminds you of her. You talk to me about being careful with Cindy, but you used to chase an actual murderer. I can't believe you.\"\n\nSherlock now stood sheepishly in the middle of the room, slowly opening and closing his hand as he admired the multitude of fine musculature working in concert to create the graceful movement, something only a drug addict could appreciate. Giles crossed to the stairs and looked back at his father one last time before he stormed to his room. \"I come how to you sitting in a dark room out of your head on drugs trying to figure out how to bang a killer again and all you want to talk about is how I had a mojito. God!\" He stomped up to his room, satisfied that he had shifted his father from examination to introspection with his outburst." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: The devil announces auditions for a 5th horseman." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Satan, lord of darkness, sat upon his throne of skulls in the pits of hell. The flyers had gone out through the entire netherworld and a few of heaven's shadier spots, the time had come to add a fifth horseman of the apocalypse. War, Famine, and Death were all with him to help interview potential candidates, Pestilence had called in sick that day though.\n\nThe first fellow sat in front of them, a chubby man in a flannel shirt with some glasses. He didn't look like much, but Satan remembered that War had been really fat back in high school before he'd gotten that gym membership, maybe he would surprise them...\n\n\"So, Bob Smith is it?\" he nodded and the devil continued, \"What horseman do you think you would be?\"\n\n\"Slow Internet,\" Smith replied, \"Basically I'd be the new number four guy before Death and clog up everyone's bandwidth so you couldn't do anything online or stream netflix.\"\n\nDeath scratched his skeletal head, \"And how does your judgement affect those without internet? Those in third world countries for example?\"\n\nSmith seemed a little unsure, \"I suppose I could send them spam-\"\n\n\"They don't have email, they don't have any internet!\" Satan said, \"I'm sorry but you're out, next!\"\n\nThe next applicant was an attractive looking black woman in a business suit, \"So, Mrs. Green,\" he began, \"What manner of evil would you bring to the world if chosen?\"\n\n\"Racism\" she said without a pause, \"I'd make everyone so racist nobody could get anything done.\"\n\nWar stroked his chin a moment, \"And what made someone of your... background want to be the horseman of Racism?\"\n\n\"Are you saying a black woman can't be the horseman of racism? Or is it that I can't be a horseMAN because I'm a woman?\" She shouted angrily.\n\n\"No it's not that it's just-\" War started but she was having none of it.\n\n\"You will all be hearing from my lawyer! Good day!\" she got up and left with a huff.\n\nSatan sighed, \"War, this is exactly why I made you attend that workshop... you're just lucky Hell has a great legal department.\"\n\n\"Nice going War,\" Famine snickered, \"By the way when are we going to break for lunch? I'm starving.\"\n\n\"Let's get through at least one more,\" Satan sighed, \"NEXT!\" he yelled.\n\nThe third candidate was a fat fellow with acne who seemed to be giggling under his breath as he entered.\n\n\"Bernie Underwood,\" Satan read, \"What will you unleash as one of the horsemen of the apocalypse?\"\n\n\"SHIT!\" he blurted suddenly laughing, \"just shit!\"\n\nSatan was intrigued, \"Elaborate please...\"\n\nUnderwood collected himself, \"Basically I'd just make it rain shit, really gross stuff too, like the kind you get after Taco Bell.\"\n\n\"It's brilliant!\" Death whispered, \"It's so simple and yet so evil...\"\n\nSatan nodded in agreement, \"Mr. Underwood I think we are ready to offer you a job, how would you like to be the second horseman of the apocalypse? The Horseman of Shit?\"\n\nHe stood up and shook the devil's hand, \"I can't wait to start sir! I think together we're going to make sure a lot of people have a really CRAPPY day!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: The dragon \"kidnaps\" the princess so they can go on their dates. The knight intentionally take as long as possible to \"rescue\" the princess. To both give them time to enjoy themselves. But also to spend time with his crush. The sorcerer." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The trees whizzed past in a blur as I galloped towards the snow capped peaks that loomed in the distance. A small stream flowed softly next to me. The water was trickling gently as the birds above sung together in perfect harmony.\n\nSuddenly, a bubble of water splashed into the side of my head. I reared my steed to a standstill and turned around.\n\n“Did you really have to do that Isabelle?” I asked.\n\n“I didn’t feel like shouting.” She giggled with a warmth deeper than the sun. I broke out in a smile.\n\n“I suppose you are suggesting we picnic here?” I said as I disembarked from my horse.\n\n“Oh how clever you are my sweet prince.” She took my hand as I helped her down.\n\nWe laid out a small rug in the shadow of a young pine and pulled out some sandwiches. I sat leaning against the trunk with Isabelle lying against me.\n\n“Why can’t we do this more often?” She said. I gently ran my fingers through her hair.\n\n“If Princess Lea is whisked away by her love more than she is already, it would draw suspicion from our parents.”\n\n“Well. Yes, but that doesn’t stop us going out for a day together does it Abel?”\n\n“I guess not. Apart from my duties in the courts and the barracks and the stables and the dining halls with foreign diplomats. Oh and of course, explaining how you keep blowing up precious equipment.” Isabelle tried to push out of my grasp as I held her down.\n\n“Oh hush. It was only once. Or twice.”\n\n“More like thrice.” We laughed together.\n\n“Maybe don’t ride so far ahead now? As much as I love the look of your backside, your face has some charm and appeal too you know?” Isabelle said.\n\nI hauled the final bag of supplies back into place.\n\n“Oh alright. But we can’t take too long. It’s only a ten day journey to and fro.”\n\nIsabelle fell into a light trot next to me. I paid little attention to the road ahead as the sunlight made her brown hair glow with the aura of an Angel. She muttered strange words, words I could never hope to understand the power of as we went. Flowers opened up before us and creatures bounded past.\n\nI knew she influenced the creatures and the plants, but I knew not how.\n\nIt wasn’t long before instead of the sun beating down from above, the rays glazed through the trees horizontally. Golden glows and long shadows fell across the land as stars above began to twinkle.\n\nIsabelle went to fetch some water as I set up camp. I attached a canvas between some trees, but it drooped a little lifelessly. I stroked my chin thinking of a way to improve it.\n\nI was slightly shocked when the edges seemed to raise themselves into the air but when I felt two hands wrap around my waist I knew Isabelle had returned.\n\n“Now, I loved your ideas. But I hope you let me decorate our future home,” she said as she kissed the back of my neck.\n\n“As long as I can name the kids.”\n\nWe curled up together as the bird song slowly died away, replaced with the chorus of nightly bugs chirping away. While, a nice sound, it wasn’t long before Isabelle put up a magical barrier to… block the noise.\n\n“Thank you Izzy.” I leant over and kissed her cheek. I watched her mouth stretch into a slight smile while she otherwise remained motionless. It wasn’t long before I fell asleep too.\n\nIn the morning, we packed up quickly and headed off towards the foot of the mountains. A large cave was embedded into the cliff sides with claw-like marks etched around the outsides.\n\nWe gently approached and I called in, “Helloooo? Any body home?”\n\nBefore I could react Lea bolted out of the cave and wrapped me in a bear hug.\n\n“Hey little bro! Is it really that time already?” She pouted a little. “Oh and you brought Izzy!” She jumped off of me and went to give her the same treatment.\n\nSlowly following behind was what looked like a man.\n\n“Greetings Hyacynth.” The man took my hand and shook it with the firmness of a boulder pressed into the ground.\n\n“A pleasure as always Abel. Aah and you’ve brought the lovely Izzy as well. It is always a delight when she visits.” Hyacynth went over and gave her a small hug as Lea returned to me.\n\n“Sounds like you’ve been mistreating Izzy again,” she said teasingly.\n\n“Oh really?”\n\n“Yep. Apparently you rode ahead of her for massive stretches.”\n\n“ I enjoy the wind in my face,” I shrugged.\n\n“Well, I think I’ll ride with her on the way back.” Lea stuck her tongue out at me.\n\n“Now quick question little bro. Is there any chance you guys can stay? I’m sure it’s no trouble for Cynth, aaaand I’d love to catch up and and and I bet Izzy wants to spend more time with you.”\n\n“I wish we could. But a delegate from the Glenfjord region is arriving the day I’m due to return. Also, we can’t leave the horses this time. Father wasn’t all too pleased when I left Gerard here last time.”\n\n“Fiiine.” As her drawn out fine finished, a large crack rang out. I jumped to face what was happening. A tree smouldered slightly in the distance that Isabelle was pointing at.\n\nWith a bright flash of blue light, Hyacynth’s body began to morph. No matter how many times I was witness to this, I still shivered as he revealed his true form.\n\n“Well done little one.” His voice now boomed throughout the cave entrance. He heaved a deep breath and a bolt of pure lightning erupted from his mouth. It streaked through the air before cracking against and vaporising the tree that I could only assume Izzy had just shot lightning at herself.\n\n“Show off,” Izzy said.\n\n“Anyway. We had best be off. Tight schedule I’m afraid.” I ducked out of the way as Hyacynth’s tail swooshed over my head.\n\n“Oh that is a shame. I was hoping you would be able to stay the night or two,” he said.\n\n“Ah. Sadly not this time….”\n\n“I’ll make sure we get a longer visit next time,” Izzy said before I could finish speaking. “And I’ll make sure to keep practicing. One day I’ll blast a tree just like you can.”\n\nThe ground almost shook from the laughter that followed. Small pebbles fell from the cave roof as Hyacynth regained his composure.\n\n“It was a pleasure to see you both again,” he said. Bowing his head towards Izzy and I. “I do so look forward to the next visit.”\n\nHe slowly made his way back into his cave as we rode off together towards the horizon. Back towards home." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: the hero and villain are on the same side. The villain's schemes being stopped by the hero is an elaborate publicity stunt designed to swindle the city out of it's money. And noone knows this" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "With a mighty flourish, the man in shining plate struck off the arm off the robed woman. The fire at the end of her wand died out, and the both the wand and the arm fell to the paved square below. Crying out in pain, the sorceress fell to her knees, and moved her remaining hand to the injured shoulder. Through her fingers ran blood which quickly curled to smoke. People in the square curled up their noses at the smell of charring flesh but turned to watch the spectacle. Moments ago, they ran from the woman and the fire she shot from her wand in thick streams, but the knight ran in from a side street with a fearsome yell and defeated the woman with only a few strokes. Given the shocked expression of the woman, the crowd largely assumed she failed to anticipate immediate resistance.\n\nSeveral houses and shops in the village center belched flame from thatched roofs and from broken windows. A few townspeople lay in the street, unmoving. Even still, the onlookers stared at the knight and the woman, not moving to help the fallen or put out the fires. The sorceress spit in the face of the knight, hurling curses and insults as he held his sword to her throat.\n\nAfter several moments, the knight spoke to her in hushed tones, too low for the assembled crowd, “Not going to bleed out on me, are you?” The woman barely shook her head, not trusting herself not to cry if she opened her mouth. The knight paused before offering a belated, “Nice work today, very evil.” The sorceress attempted to spit in the knight’s face again.\n\nClanking and shouting came from up the street, and guards arrived, panting from the run. After taking in the buildings on fire and the bodies, the guards directed the bystanders to form bucket brigades and grab litters. A few guards inched towards the knight and kneeling sorceress, and were confused with how to restrain the woman, seeing her arm lying on the cobbles nearby. After a couple of burly men grabbed the woman by her shoulder, the knight stooped to pick up the wand.\n\nIn an officious tone, the knight challenged the guard captain, “does your jail have the ability to accommodate magically gifted prisoners?” At the uncomfortable look on the guard captain’s face, the knight gave a sneer. “I thought not. She will keep for the night, but on the morn, I will take her to my order’s keep, where she will be held and put to the question. We must know more of her coven and their plans for the fair folk of the realm.”\n\n“Good knight, I cannot speak for the duke, nor his chief justice, but I am sure they will want to try and convict this madwoman here in our town,” the guard captain offered, appearing that he, on the other hand, would be happy to get rid of the sorceress.\n\nSlapping the captain on the shoulder, the knight smiled and guided him up the hill after the restrained woman towards the duke’s palace. “Worry not, friend, I will explain the situation to the chief justice himself. He will understand the situation. In the meantime, she’ll have need of the most fearless doctor in the town if she is to give me anything useful in her interrogation.”\n\nWiping his brow and groaning at the growing light of the morning, the knight rode his horse hunched over. Every step of the woman following behind rattled the chains leading from her neck to the knight’s saddle horn. Bloodstained bandages bound her wounded shoulder, but she still wore her robes, minus a sleeve. The guards would rather let her escape due to some hidden tool rather than be so close as to search the sorceress.\n\n“For the love of all that is holy, for the love of the Light itself, please, please, please give me the potion,” gasped the sorceress.\n\n“It was a clean cut, you cauterized the wound, and they had a decent surgeon to bandage you up. I wouldn’t have left you otherwise, eh?” replied the knight, uninterested in the woman in and out of disguise. Nothing short of a sword wound would help with his pounding head. My, did the duke have deep kegs. “One more hill, and then we’ll be out of sight of the town and its outskirts. We’ll fix you up then.”\n\nThe woman grimaced and plodded along. Shortly after, and behind the rise, and the knight led his horse and the woman off the road. The knight dismounted, pulled the chain off his partner, and fished around in his saddlebags. A moment later, he tossed a vial to the woman, and she tore at the wax and stopper with her teeth. The sorceress gasped after slugging the drink.\n\nUnder the morning sun, the knight studied the woman, who stood stock still, eyes screwed shut, drenched in sweat. Gently, he unwound the bandages around her shoulder, and by the time the final wrapping came off, the flesh underneath was unmarred. In time, the arm would regrow. No one would recognize the woman, for she left the town, and the several before it, missing a limb. Meanwhile, the knight would gain fame and coin for defeating a scourge of sorceresses. With a new costume and a pair of scissors, he could defeat several rather effeminate sorcerers as well.\n\n“We’ve done it, love. We’ve broken even. There’s six vials left, and every last one of them is just profit now,” the knight said, his hand resting on the sorceress’ face.\n\n“You really know how to make a girl feel like a lady, you know that?” she whispered, shuddering as the pain finally fled her body. “No more over night stays, you understand? The next time you make me sit in a dank hole to get drunk, I will be the one removing limbs.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: For over 1000 years the Night King and undead have defended the world's boundary from an unknown enemy. Criminals are sent to the undead kingdom to become skeletons, bolstering the frontline. You were framed and sent, but the undead already knew of your innocence and have other plans for you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "# The Gate.\n\nWide enough for twenty men to march side by side and five men tall, the gate is where the enemy flows into our lands. It is a swirling twisting cloud of an opening - lightning marks its outer edge and spins in the opposite direction of the clouds it contains.\n\nThe gate was opened from the enemy’s side through a science or magic completely foreign to us. Every attempt to close it or plug it has failed.\n\nTo walk into the gate is to disappear forever. Every probe or drone sent in is just lost. It forces us to constantly be on the defensive against the enemy that comes through the gate.\n\n# The Enemy.\n\nTheir skin is oily and shiny black. They have anywhere from four limbs to a dozen - all long tentacles with spiked ends. The limbs join to a central thorax, like a spider. The eyeless face has spider like pinchers and a mouth full of fangs. It’s jaw unhinges like a snake allowing it to eat a person whole in a single terrifying gulp.\n\nWe don’t know what they call themselves - they never told us. We have never heard them speak. No demands were given. No declaration of war. The gate opened and they skittered out, killing and eating everyone in their path.\n\nWithout a name or a purpose - we call them all, ‘The Enemy’.\n\n# The Night King.\n\nThe Night King is a primordial force of nature. He came into existence with the first undead. He exists to rule over all of those who live of the fringe of life - the undead. Neither alive or dead - vampires, revenants, skeletons, ghosts, ghouls, wights - all must answer to him. They exist on the periphery of human awareness in scarey bed time stories, in nightmares and in the darkness.\n\nWhen the gate opened and the enemy started to flow into the human realm - we were defenseless against them. Mortal weapons did nothing to slow them down. They were unstoppable killing machines.\n\nThe Night King revealed himself to the leaders of humanity and proposed a bargain. He and his minions would fight the enemy but humanity had to cede the territory around the gate - a two mile area and then another half mile demilitarized zone around that. This land became his territory - part of his domain - a perpetual twilight where his power could rule.\n\nHumanity needed to give soldiers to the cause. The undead had never been plentiful - so he needed conscripts to transform into the undead to fight on the front lines.\n\nWe gave the marginalized to the Night King - the homeless, the dying, the sick, and the convicted. The masses once again marginalizing the already marginalized one last time. Placed on buses in chains and sent to the front lines - never to be seen by society again.\n\nSo it has been for a thousand years. The Night King defends the realm of men. We send our societal rejects to the frontlines and our life goes on as if the enemy had never come.\n\n# My Story\n\nI was convicted of murdering my beautiful wife - the love of my life, the centre of my world, my universe. I am innocent. Framed by her powerful boss. She worked as a secretary for the DA. She shutdown his advances as politely as she could. Made a point to never be alone with him. Went out of her way to wear non-flattering clothes. Everything she could think of to convince him she wasn’t interested.\n\nI begged her to leave that job - to find anything else. After a particularly horrible day at work she agreed to find a new job - she was going to quit the next day.\n\nShe never came home from work and I was arrested for her murder. Her boss worked the case himself.\n\nI never stood a chance.\n\nI was convicted and put on the bus to the front with in the month. It didn’t matter though - without her, there was nothing worth living for.\n\nThe bus ride was filled with crying and sobbing. Everyone knew we were headed to the frontlines and we were going to die in the battle against the enemy. This bus ride were our last hours among the fully alive.\n\n# The Frontlines\n\nWe stopped at the military checkpoint on the human side of the demilitarized zone. Military police checked everyone’s ID against the list and waved the bus through.\n\nAs we drove through the demilitarized zone, the light shifted from high noon to a dusky twilight. We were entering the kingdom of the Night King.\n\nThe bus stopped again and were we all unchained and told to get off the bus. We all tottered off the bus - doomed people walking to our deaths.\n\nA wight in torn clothing and with skin hanging from its skeletal form sorted us as we got off the bus - placing us into five different lines…. Except for me. He asked me to stand to his left.\n\nOnce everyone from the bus was sorted, more wights came and led each group away.\n\n“Come with me, Trevor Langford,” the sorting wight said.\n\nWe walked to the battlements. A wall thirty feet high, made of stone, mortar and bones of the dead. We climbed the stairs to the top and looked out over the killing fields.\n\nThousands of undead fought the enemy. The ground was covered in bones and blood and bodies of the enemies and undead alike. It was pure chaos.\n\nWe came to a platform that held a throne. Upon the throne sat the Night King. He radiated power and the stench of death.\n\nThe wight leading me bowed to the Night King and said, “Your majesty, my I present, Trevor Langford.”\n\nThe Night King turned his gaze upon me. Their was a weight to that gaze. I could feel him weighing my very soul in that gaze.\n\n“You do not belong here, Trevor,” his low voice rumbling through me, “Why are you here?”\n\n“I was convicted of murdering my wife and sentenced to the frontlines, your … mmm… majesty,” I fumbled.\n\n“But you are innocent.”\n\n“I am. The system failed me and it failed my wife,” I lamented, “There was nothing else I could. I couldn’t afford to appeal to a higher court and no grounds to appeal on. The DA fabricated an air tight case against me. So here I am,” I said, shrugging my shoulders in defeat.\n\nThe Night King bolted to his feet, he eyes focused deep into the killing fields. “RISE!” He yelled as he struggled to raised both of his hands.\n\nI watched as the bones on the ground re-assembled themselves into a legion of skeletons which join the attack on a massive twelve tentacled enemy.\n\nThe Night King sat back down and turned his gaze back to me.\n\n“Do you know why the undead exist, Trevor?” He asked me.\n\n“To fight the enemy,” I said simply.\n\n“The world has forgotten the undead. They know we are here to fight the enemy but they have forgotten our original purpose.” He rubbed his eyes with one hand. “We were never meant to be a punishment. Never meant to be a torment.\n\n“A thousand years is a long time to be fighting an unwinnable war. While we were fighting for humanity, all of humanity forgot why we existed.\n\n“The undead were people who could not move on to death. There was something so important left undone in their life that their soul refused to move on - and it would animate their corpse or transform it into a tool to fulfil that need.\n\n“You have a need left in the world of the living, don’t you Trevor?”\n\nFor the first time since my conviction I let myself feel. I let the despair wash over me. I let the hate for the man who killed my wife find hold in my heart and let it burn." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 800-900 words. Prompt: The dragon jealously defended it's hoard of gold for years, incinerating heroes and villains alike who tried to steal it. Now, though, the dragon faces a terrifying new foe: the IRS." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Skyler Reid wasn’t too physically imposing compared to other people but what set her apart was the business suit with an IRS badge. What did make her imposing was the clipboard that she was holding.\n\nThe clipboard held the results of an audit on the finances and assets of Nuthas, a dragon who had taken on a more human form to sit opposite to Skyler to find out the results of the audit of his hoard.\n\n“I’ve got some good news and some bad news for you.” Skyler states as she flips over to the next page. “Normally we would file charges over tax delinquency for every tax return you have missed but, since you have been asleep for the last three hundred years and have produced no economic activity in that time, we have decided to not pursue criminal charges.”\n\nShe offers a smile. “We understand that things can be confusing for our citizens who have longer lifespans when it comes to the rapid pace of change made within the last century. We understand that many dragons choose to keep their hoarded wealth out of the economy. If you choose to remain outside of the economy then we will just watch to make sure you uphold your end of the deal.”\n\noffering a predatory grin, Skyler leans in and places a page down on the table. “On the other hand, if you do decide to join in and invest portions of your hoard for economic gain, you could grow your hoard. Of course, we would take a percentage of the gain as tax but, between you and me there are tricks to minimize how much we take.”\n\nNuthas picks up the sheet and examines it carefully. “This says that my total hoard is valued at 2.1 billon of your dollars, right?” As Skyler nods, he then continues to speak “And I will only be charged tax on any profit I make from investing it and then there are deductions that I can claim, such as my land being used for one of your national parks?”\n\nSkyler nods in agreement. “That is correct. We only tax income, be it from a job, the sale of assets or profit from investments. Normally I should not be telling you this but, you are a citizen of the nation and you have agreed to continue to share your land holdings as a national park. There are firms that can help you with your investments and accounting to minimize how much you pay us at the IRS in tax while increasing your own profits.”\n\nShe closes her eyes and reaches for a glass of water to take a sip. “Sharing this is against the spirit of my job but, I want to see more local investment with the hope that it flows on creating more jobs and raising the average income of the region. If you were to find a way to open up new jobs in the surrounding region, we would tax the income of the company and its employees. You could claim their expenses as a deduction on your own taxes while increasing the general taxable income for the entire region.”\n\nNuthas thinks it through for a while. “I have never been too attached to my hoard and you say that it is possible to make it larger? Tell me, where do I compare against the richest person on the planet. Your audit said that I am worth 2.1 billion dollars. I want to grow my hoard and I like the sound of having willing thralls, even if I have to pay them a pittance out of my hoard to gain their loyalty.”\n\nPicking up a tablet and looking at it for a moment Skyler finally answers. “You are around the fifteenth hundred richest person in the world. The richest person in the world is worth a hundred and eighty billion dollars. They are human by the way and not a dragon.”\n\nGrinning toothily, a hint of draconic teeth showing as Nuthas plots his next step. “That is a long way to go. But I can do it. I’ve got nothing better to do and I do like the idea of loyal human servants…” He pauses. “Two final questions, what laws apply to Kobald workers in the current age and are you for hire?”\n\nSkyler finds herself thrown off guard by the questions. “You would have to ask either the Bureau of Labor or the Bureau of the Occult, the first governs workers rights and the second governs supernatural creatures like yourself and kobolds amongst others.” She then laughs softly and shakes her head. “I can’t leave my job to come work as your accountant. I’m under a two year non-compete agreement when it comes to switching from working for the IRS to working in accounting and taxation for other entities. But I will be your case worker with the IRS and if you continue to help build up the nation economically, I am authorized to supply advice that most are not eligible to receive.”\n\nReaching over to offer his hand Nuthas offers a friendly smile. “To a good working relationship. May you earn the money you take as taxes.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 800-900 words. Prompt: You are a student working on your thesis project: Matter Transportation. After weeks of de-materializing lab mice and having them re-materialize alive in the adjacent lab one second later, you decide to try the device out yourself. The journey you experience lasts far longer than one second..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Galileo wasn't a big station. A big ring, floating between Mars and Phobos. Changing decks was enough to feel the Coriolis effect as the pull of gravity on your feet didn't quite match that on your head. You either learned to live with it, or took meds every time you got out of your rack before that sensation in your ears told your brain something wasn't quite right.\n\nFor Sam it was another reminder that home was a long way away. Ted hummed behind her, either finishing up \"the most important paper in the history of man\" or playing another round of solitaire on his terminal. The lone porthole in the window didn't even face home, just a field of stars revolving by at eight revolutions per minute.\n\n\"I'm off,\" Ted said.\n\nSam didn't say anything. She just wanted him gone. Out. As soon as the bulkhead door sealed she was out of her seat, hooking up cables and running through diagnostics. Six months of work. Every night and weekend, Landfall Day and Independence Day had been leading to this. The text in her ocular-ribbon flashed green. She winked it away and took a deep breath. Before her stood a... a coffin, for lack of a better term. It was small, even for Sam's five two frame, but other than that it was an exact replica of the one she'd been using for weeks, just an order of magnitude bigger. Pinky and his cranial companion watched her from their cage, little noses sniffing at the scents. Tests meant cheese, but today it was she who was going for a ride.\n\n\"See you in five,\" she said to the mice.\n\nThe door to the chamber sealed tight. CO2 build-up would begin immediately, but she didn't plan on being cocooned for long. The clock in the top right of her vision counted down. The walls began to shake. Rattle. Jar at her spine. As the noise became too much and she clamped her hands over her ears, the world went black and white, hot and cold. Her hands were a million miles away from her head and then she was nowhere and everywhere.\n\nSam awoke in pain. Grabbing her ankle beneath the rubberised plastic of her grey vac suit, she couldn't feel a break, couldn't feel the warmth of any blood. It was only when she was satisfied that the pain was nothing more than a sprain that she realised she had much bigger problems.\n\nA few meters away, the bole of a tree rose into the sky. She could recognise it was a tree by the shape, but unless she'd hit her head as well as her foot, everything else was wrong. It was purple. As in, actually purple. Purple. Sam hobbled over and tentatively touched it. Real.\n\n\"Oh shit.\"\n\nLooking up, through the canopy of leaves, the sky was orange. It almost looked like a sunset, except she could see two suns. An ear-splitting screech went up, causing all manner of airborne creatures to take flight. Sam looked around with panic in her eyes and started hobbling away in the opposite direction from the noise.\n\nShe crashed through the underbrush. Things moved ahead of her, scattering away, but they didn't come close enough for her to see. All to late she realised they weren't running from her. The soft footsteps made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. A true, primal fear.\n\nThe root was old. Covered in purple moss. Sam didn't see it until she was falling forwards, twisting her injured ankle even further and shouting with pain. As the silence returned, the only sounds were her own breathing and the beast that was stalking her. She crab-walked backwards like a frantic doe.\n\n\"Oh shit. No no no.\"\n\nIt was all bone, like a cockroach and a praying mantis had had a baby and decided it wasn't scary enough so filled it with teeth and jaws and eyes. It sniffed or licked or tasted the air, taking its time as it left the shadows and began circling her. Sam backed herself against a tree, struggling to stand as it returned to her field of vision.\n\nThe beast leant in, legs or arms or whatever they were pinning her to the tree as its cold breath washed over her. Sam closed her eyes, heard the sound of bones breaking and hoped it would be over quickly. After several long heartbeats she peaked through one eyelid. The creature was still before her. It's eyes were all pointing upwards, it's limbs quivering slightly.\n\nIt collapsed, nearly crushing her under its weight. Only as she pushed it away did Sam see the spear erupting from the top of its carapace. Blood trickled from the hole, flowing more freely as the weapon was pulled from the shell.\n\nSam gulped, blinking away tears of pain as she looked at her rescuer.\n\nHad she just traded one death for another?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: : You don't really notice you've been losing weight. You deny the ridiculous notion that you are also losing height. You absolutely refuse to aknowledge that you are shrinking. It's getting ridiculous." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A mild inconvenience was the first noticeable symptom of my condition. I had to stand on my toes to snatch out a bag of instant noodle I stashed at the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet. I tried to recall last time I tried to stand on my toes to get anything, and there simply wasn't. I was puzzled for a moment. Of all the time I lived in the house, why now am I in need of an extra height? I told myself that I always stood on my toes to get something. I thought that I must be too exhausted and stressed out to be annoyed by such unimportant things.\n\nThen, I've noticed I've been losing some weight. I wasn't particularly fat or in anyway thin either, and my weight wasn't much of a concern. That was until I dropped about ten pounds from my weight from the last time I measured it. But I had not made any significant changes in my diet plan or exercise plan. Plain old frozen or instant foods and some jogging at weekends. I told myself that all the stress from the work is messing up my digestion system. That must be the case, I thought to myself.\n\nAt the work, there was a steel door to the storage room that was smaller than all other doors. The Old-man Dave who worked in the warehouse for about two decades explained there was a break-in attempt to the storage room long ago and so the management installed a new industrial-grade security door. Cheapest one available. Hence the miniature size of the door. Mike who was the tallest in the warehouse with his gargantuan height of 6 feet and 7 inches (about 2 m) had to duck to get into the storage room. For me, all I had to do was to tilt my head sideways and the top steel frame of the storage room door would graze past my hairs. With a box of returned refunded items on my hands, I kicked open the storage room door, habitually tilted my head, and walked through the door. Yet, the hair was untouched. Confused, I raised my head and the scalp of my head barely touched the top frame of the door. This, I could not explain to myself. Why would have I developed such habit if my head didn't hit the top frame anyway? That was the very moment when I couldn't stop worrying about my height. Reducing height.\n\nI googled and tried to find out what was happening with me. Vertebral collapse. Osteoporosis. Muscular atrophy. There was quite a lot of reasons why old folks shrink in their height, but I was in my twenties. None of the explanations made any sense to me. I must be overthinking about this, I talked to myself. I've never talked to myself before in my life, and yet I did so to calm myself down. I felt silly how cornered I feel about this situation.\n\nWhen I had to jump to get a bag of instant noodle from the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet, I knew something was wrong with me. Very wrong. Also, I was losing even more weights. I called the nearest hospital and made an appointment for a general health screening session. That was a goodbye my new monitor, but the concern about my condition was far more grave than a bigger screen for my movie nights. At the hospital, the doc asked some series of questions and gave me a X-ray. I answered as honestly as I could, but the doc claimed he found nothing wrong with my body. Instead of providing insight to my condition, he recommended me a consultant psychologist to help me get rid of this \"unreasonable apprehension.\" I ran out from the doctor's office disappointed and disgruntled. How dare the doctor doubt his patient? There was a height-measuring scale at the reception of the hospital, so I used it.\n\n5 feet. I checked it again and again but the result was still 5 feet. I took out my wallet and checked my driver's license: 5 feet 6 inches. About half feet was simply gone, for seemingly no reason at all. Although I was in denial, I knew my height was at some extent shrinking. But enumerating the value of the lost height terrified me. It was an inescapable evidence that something very very wrong was happening with my body. I ran back into the doctor's office and showed my driver's license to him. The doctor shrugged and said DMV must got my height wrong.\n\nSo I went on. I told to myself, someone at the work must notice the change of my height. The top steel frame of the door was now about two palm's length above my head, but no one at the work pointed out. After two months of neglect, my height measured around 4 feet 10 inches. When I saw that 4' on the height scale I bought online, I took a day off from the work and drove five hours to see my distanced mother. Surely she'll mention something about the contracted size of her son. I knocked the door, she answered, she welcomed me, we talked, we ate dinner together, I played along... but not a word about my height came up.\n\nI was infuriated. Was I dreaming about this? Was I the only one who noticed my change? I flipped the dinner table and screamed and threw some awful words at my mother. Even then she refused to recognize that any change had occurred to my physical appearance. She cried and I left.\n\nThat was quite some many years ago. Now, I'm something like an elf from Christmas tales--a feet tall midget. I got fired from the work for my incompetence, but still no one mentioned a word about my height. I couldn't even manage to drive around and yet no acquaintance of mine even questioned why. There were step ladders all over my apartment and whenever I walked on them I was terrified. Someday or later, I'll become so small that I won't be able to move around. I'll starve to death then, I imagined. An image of an old fetus drying and dying on a white sheet on the bed, which happened to be my bed, burned into my dreams. Even now, the doctors all around the town refused to acknowledge that something was wrong with me. They all told me my physical health was okay and I might be hallucinating an non-existent problem. They all made those concerned faces and told me to go visit a psychiatric hospital.\n\nI could see that not a year was left in my miserable life. But I figured it was too far away. I've decided to jump off the bridge and end my cursed life. I walked, with my tiny legs, toward the bridge. It felt like it took hours to reach the bridge which used to be just few minutes walk away from my apartment. For a moment I was worried the bridge wasn't too high for people to die in, but I figured for my height it was to high enough to be lethal. I passed a lot of pedestrians, but they never gave me second look. A feet-tall midget was walking across the street and I was still nobody to them! I reached the bridge and crawled up to the guardrails. I looked around and when no one was looking, I jumped.\n\nWhen I awoke, I found myself on a hospital bed. I had a green cast all over from my right heel to thigh, and bruises and sticky ointments and bandages all over the right side of my body. I wiggled my left leg around, which was bloodshot as well but operable, and it reached the other end of the hospital bed. I pulled myself up and looked at my body. I was at least five times taller than the last moment I remembered myself to be. I was normal again. There was no explanation as to why such things happened to me, and to this day I still haven't found an understandable explanation of the peculiar metamorphosis of mine. I've got to say, past several years have been an odd experience." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Prove to me that you are not a monster." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her question shook me to my core.\n\n“Because now when I see you, it’s all I see.” She said turning away from me. She stared out the porthole and into the void of space. Her gaze was pained and sorrowful.\n\n“Before you used to show mercy. Hell, I remember when I did my first kill. You freaked. “It wasn’t our way” you said. But now you seem to have no problems. Or worse revel in it.” She turned around to look back at me arms folded. I hated when she looked at me like this. The anger mixed with disappointment.\n\n“Terry...” I said reaching out to her. She let me pull her into my arms with some reluctance.\n\n“I’m trying to save you.” She said forcing a smile.\n\n“I know” I said kissing her. “But look it has to be this way. I’m doing this for us and for the world.” Her smile faded and that terrible gaze returned.\n\n“For us? For the world? I see. Killing our competitors so that there will be no one to beat us.” She said pushing away from me.\n\nTerry you don’t understand-“ I tried to explain.\n\n“NO YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” She shouted throwing her arms up in frustration.\n\n“YOU CAN’T JUST KEEP KILLING PEOPLE!” She continued before taking a deep breath. “Eventually it’ll comeback to bite you. Someone will want revenge. Someone will want to get even or try to hurt you or me. Or worse. I continue to lose the man I love because he continues to think that he can do whatever he wants without consequence.” She sat down in the pilots chair looking up at me for a response. The hurt in her eyes.\n\n“Maybe because we can.” I said. She recoiled. “Look, at age ten I learned that there was nothing any man alive could do to harm me. You can move things with your mind. We aren’t normal. We never have been. We spent all our lives pretending to be normal whilst being able to do all this. We were meant for greater my love! This tournament was destined. This is our moment to show the world that we exist, and show the world what we can do. These people I’ve killed don’t mean anything. What matters is all the lives I’ve saved and will be saving when we win and “The Executive” spares earth.” I said placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She was quick to remove it. Standing and walking away from me to the bedroom.\n\n“Maybe I was wrong...” she said as the door hissed open. She turned to look at me and I’ll never forget the sadness in her eyes. She was one the brink of tears but I knew her. She wasn’t one to cry in public.\n\nI can sense emotions too ya know?” She said.\n\n“I do.” I replied.\n\n“Lately when I’m around you. I don’t feel anything from you. Fight monsters and you yourself become one. You remember that?” She turned and exited the room. Left Arm hugging it’s counterpart. The automatic door hissed shut and locked. I was sleeping in the chair tonight. I walked over to the “fridge” and grabbed the last beer. Before going over to the porthole and staring out into the void thinking of myself. What have I become? “Prove to me you are not a monster.” Her words reflected in my mind. I took a long sip of my beer. The hum of the ship and beeping of cameras the only noise." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: It's the act of paying the terrible price that powers a fortune-altering spell. You're starting to regret sleeping through the class in wizard school where they taught what you're supposed to do with your customers' firstborn children." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Cauldron was already close to boiling when there was a sudden knock on her door. Curious, she thought as she pushed her goggles onto her forehead, there were not many still who dared visit her. And yet there was a knock, and so she turned down the heat and went to answer the door.\n\n\"Hello,\" Eskil said as the door swung open, \"Low time no see,\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" She answered, gazing down at his chest, \"What the hell is that?\"\n\n\"This guy?\" Eskil asked, looking down at the baby strapped to his chest, \" It's my baby, Bjorn, in a Baby Bjorn,\"\n\nShe began closing the door in his face,\n\n\"Wait, wait, wait, Ava look I'm sorry,\" He said while desperately pushing against the door to keep it open, \"I was just messing around, please, I need your help.\n\nShe sighed heavily and reluctantly pulled open the door again, massaging the bridge of her nose,\n\n\"I swear to god if you've been messing around with gene magic and that is somehow my baby,\"\n\n\"Oh gods no,\" He interrupted, \"No, no, it's nothing like that,\"\n\nShe waved them in and took a seat around the fireplace, conjuring up some fresh coffee for them.\n\n\"Well thank god for that,\" She stirred her cup gently, \"So who's the lucky lad then?\"\n\n\"Ah, well,\" He bit his lip slightly and cringed, \"The thing is, it's actually payment for a spell,\"\n\nShe stared at him in silence for a while before leaning over and hitting him on the back of the head,\n\n\"Are you actually this stupid?\" She shouted, \"You thought a deal for someone's firstborn meant taking an actual baby?\"\n\n\"That's what it says on the contract!\" He retorted, covering the babies ears with his hands,\n\n\"It's not a literal trade you moron, you use the lifeforce gained from their premature death to cast powerful spells!\"\n\n\"Well, how was I supposed to know that,\" He said defensively, cowering back\n\nShe wanted to turn him into a toad just so she could laugh as he boiled alive in her cauldron. But she resisted the urge, instead, balling her fists so tightly they went white.\n\n\"Look, within a few years that baby will have died from some accident or another anyway so I guess it doesn't matter,\" Ava said, sighing heavily again,\n\n\"What, no, I don't wanna kill him,\" Eskil whisper-shouted, still covering the baby's ears,\n\n\"You wouldn't be,\" She stared at him flatly, \"Premature deaths happen all the time, this would be no different,\"\n\n\"No, but I just,\" He looked down at Bjorn and back up to her, \"Look is there any way to void the contract or something, I don't want the lifeforce, please,\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" She deliberated, cocking her head slightly to the right, \"But that would mean you would have to return it, you realize that?\"\n\nHe smiled softly at her, \"Yeah, I do,\"\n\n\"Very well,\" She said, getting up from her chair, \"It may take a while, but I'll contact you when I come up with a solution,\"\n\n\"Yeah, about that,\" He said sheepishly, \"Some villagers kinda burnt my house down when I stole this baby so...\"\n\n\"Of course you did,\" She said with a sigh of resignation, \"There is a guest room down the hall, just don't trash it,\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You're in charge of assigning every child on Earth the monster under their bed. One child in particular has caused every monster assigned to him/her to quit. You decide to assign yourself." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A voice came from under the covers.\n\n\"I swear, it'd better not be another one. Do you know how long it took for the last one? He was good, but not as good as me.\"\n\nI paused. I was creeping up the sheets, to whisper in her ear, to scare her and to subvert her wildest dreams into her worst nightmares. She removed the covers.\n\nA little girl, about six years old peered at me. Her blond curls were messed up from lying on the bed, but she didn't seem to mind. I knew her though.\n\nName: Josie\n\nHeight: 4'2\"\n\nWeight: 47 pounds\n\nFear: N/A, haven't figured it out\n\nI put on my creepiest voice.\n\n\"Hello little girl,\" I said, \"how's school going? I hope the kids aren't bothering you...\"\n\n\"Go away. You're bothering me.\"\n\nSo she didn't have any problems at school. I thought back to her catalogue. She was a girl scout, but apparently didn't want to go camping. I could use that. I snapped my fingers, and it appeared we were in the woods.\n\n\"Creepy crawlies all over you,\" I giggled, and all manners of bugs and insects appeared on her pajamas.\n\n\"What the heck dude? I like these,\" she said, and she started to kill the bugs.\n\nShe pounded away at the creepy crawlies, and then yelled.\n\n\"I have a test tomorrow, I need to sleep. I don't know which one you are, but none of you have figured me out. So either leave or let me sleep.\"\n\nI was stumped. Not sure what to do, I cast an illusion before her eyes. I grew larger and larger, and she grew smaller and smaller, until I was blocking out the light of the (imaginary) moon. I grew fangs, and my pupils dilated. My fingernails grew into claws, and I snarled.\n\n\"So girly, how do you feel now?\"\n\nShe responded by throwing a rock at my privates. I doubled over, and the illusion faded. We were back in her room, her in her bed and I moaning on the ground.\n\nI was determined to win though. With an effort, I picked myself up off the ground and stared her down. I stared at her and thought, and had an idea. I dropped to the floor and rolled under her bed. She got up and looked, but I was already gone. I had her figured out.\n\nThe next night, I paid special attention to her. She sat in her room, calling out to a horror that didn't exist, a monster not there. Her brain did her work for me. But as she cried out, she fell silent, and silently wept. Baffled, I leaned in closer. I heard a faint whisper.\n\n\"I'm lonely...\"\n\nI frowned. I couldn't let this girl be alone. I'm here to keep them in bed, not torture them. I had an idea.\n\nThe next night she got in bed in her pajamas, and didn't look under the bed. But she heard growling, and then a bump under her bed frame. She jumped out of bed, and looked underneath. I had sent my most incompetent monster to keep her company. He tried to roll from under the bed, but his purple wings wouldn't let him. He eventually sighed, and said \"Can I have a little help?\"\n\nAnd sure enough, Josie extended her hand." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: \"It's called Vol Mur, my people go into heat and have to deposit their eggs into a fertile female or else the eggs become toxic inside us. Will one of you please volunteer?\" Their Tentacle creature companion pleaded" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eris ran toward the ogre, dropping her hammer and pulling out two daggers. She leapt at the creature's swiping arm and climbed up the flesh, pounding steel into his thick hide to keep her grip. She climbed up his arm before the other could swipe her off and rode his back as he charged through their party, punching and kicking at their tank who deflected and bore the brunt of his hits. She grabbed the ogres face and wrenched it around to look at Thruppit.\n\nThruppit their companion tentacle monster, his tentacle tips glowed a light pink, his eye wide and almost vibrating in its intense focus, his pupil shrank down to a single point and the ogre could no longer look away.\n\nHis hands swiped lazily, his thrashing easing down, shoulders slumped, crashing to his knees. He eased lower even as Eris stabbed a dagger into the thick muscle of his shoulder to have a firmer hold.\n\nHis face lowered down toward the ground, coming closer to their mindflayer who drifted forward, his intense stare piercing through the ogre. He started to weep beneath her, a hand coming up to hold his head tightly. The body shuddered violently beneath her as he started to cry, clutching his head but not for a moment taking his eye off Thruppit.\n\nEris nodded, confident he was controlled and walked over to her discarded hammer, hefting it and giving it a few practice swings while being careful not to break his line of sight.\n\nThe ogre wept, his body curling up in the foetal position and hugging himself tight. She hefted the hammer high and with a loud squelch, she put him out of his misery.\n\n“That was effective.” said Eris, flicking a glance toward Thruppit who hovered a few inches off the ground, short little tapering tentacles waving as the intensity washed out of his expression. He nodded but didn’t smile his usual smile, it was forced. She shuddered a little at the sight of the tentacles, they gave her the heebie-jeebies, always had.\n\n“Grundar had some unresolved trauma, it broke him pretty quickly.” said Thruppit. She followed his gaze to the ogre who was apparently named ‘Grundar’... he looked like a Grundar. “Dib’s on the toes.” she said.\n\n“I would have liked his eye but I think you broke it.” said Thruppit.\n\n“Are you Ok Thruppit? You’ve been a little off.”\n\n“We need to go to a town.” he said.\n\n“You’ve been saying that, we always find ourselves winding up at a town from time to time.”\n\nHe turned away, heading back toward their campsite, the conversation for him was apparently over.\n\n“Toes are mine!” she shouted at the party who was already carving up Grundar the formerly traumatised ogre. She jogged to catch up with Thruppit.\n\n“Soo… what’s important in town? Or do you want to not talk about it?”\n\n“I am in the Veraghchti…” he eyed her, remembering her limited hearing for doom-speak. “...Vee uh v-vuh… I am in the Vol Mur.” he concluded.\n\n“Vol Mur, sounds intense, is your voice going to break? Going to sprout hair in strange places?”\n\nHe didn’t laugh, even after she nudged him in the ball between his tentacles, careful not to let the writhing thing’s touch her." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Upon being transported to another dimension in the usual manner, everything seems normal, but you quickly notice that there are no chairs, benches, or even a low wall in sight. When you sit down on the ground, however, a crowd begins to form around you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A frigid wind passes over the purple sands of Versone. The red sun of blood consumes the starry sky as it revelled in its temporary victory over the yellow sun of peace. The fiery glow upon everything below; the sands now a crimson red. Besides Small shards of transparent crystals littered the ground in worrying patterns.\n\nAugma appeared in the usual manner, a bright flash of light and a loud snap and there she was. Tightly strapped equipment jostled in her pack as she examined her immediate vicinity. This was unusual. The land was baron and scorched. There were no chairs or tables, no benches nor anything that could house a crowd.\n\nAugma was just about to turn back when she noticed the crude circle carved into a fairly large piece of sandstone. Runes and glyphs decorated the inner space of the circle, crafted in the same crude hurried manner. Augma did was not fluent Vers but the intent was clear. She was meant to sit.\n\nApproaching the rock, Augma took one last cursory glance before sitting down awkwardly on the uncomfortable rock. Just as she did so, a faint cheering started to build up around her. The origins were impossible to locate as they seemed to come from everywhere. Despite the bizarre situation, Augma remained seated. Having been in many similar situations before, she knew what she would be in for.\n\nThe cheering reached a deafening crescendo as the sands shifted unnaturally. Right before Augma’s unimpressed eyes, large beams and walls ascended from the suffocating depths of the sand. They rose high into the air, staircase-like blocks joining them. Thousands of arms and heads waved in the air from what Augma now recognised as rows upon rows of long benches.\n\nThe Versony were a warring people. They lived within the depths of their planet, constantly smothered in the icy purple sands of their home-world. The only times when they rose above the sands to the blistering heat above was on “Spilling day”. Once every four hundred days—when the fiery wrath of the blood star would banish the cooling presence of the peace star and command blood tribute from the Versony.\n\nAugma knew this to merely be superstition; ceremony and tradition to satiate the species own blood lust lest they risk it breaking out and consuming all in a brutal civil war. The crude stone sank below her, consumed by the hungry sands. Augma hopped off and stood proud in front of what now was a truly gargantuan coliseum.\n\n“And now we have our challenger! She who will satiate the blood god’s hunger, either with the enemies blood!” A booming voice sounded from all directions. Augma made a note of appreciation that it at least spoke in the universal tongue. “Or her own!”\n\nThe words were met with cheers and chants. Support for her or disdain. Augma did not care for these shows of commentary, however. Whether the crowd wanted her head or her victory, it did not matter in fights like these. The rules were simple and rarely broken. Kill the challenger and walk away richer than when you came in.\n\nThe sand shuddered once more as the show master announced its arrival. “The dread in the sands! The bane of man! The beast of glass and fire! I present to you, the Fireworm!” The announcement was met with even more cheers and calls.\n\nInstead of a slow shift, the sand exploded upwards this time. A huge worm erupted as its mouth opened widely, giving all the crowd a view of its metre-long teeth. Fire erupted from the gaping maw as the beast rose up to almost the height of the coliseum before collapsing back down to the ground.\n\nDespite Augma standing merely 50 metres away, the beast seemed to not notice her. Instead, it lunged towards the coliseum and the awaiting crowd. With a terrifying roar of pain, it leapt backwards as a bright flash of white engulfed it.\n\n“It seems the abomination cares more for the crowd's blood. No matter, we can force it back with lightning!”\n\nThe beast shook its giant head of the shock and turned to face Augma. It seemed ready to strike." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Someone has hired an assassin to kill you. What they didn't know was that you and the assassin went to the same high school, and you know all the tricks up his sleeve." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ted was always something of an asshole. He was never impolite or mean, unless you were first and then... Oh boy. All Ted ever needed to let loose his inner sociopath was an excuse.\n\nIt honestly didn't surprise me to find out he became a hitman. People don't want other people dead unless there was good reason. To be frank, it wasn't surprising that a hitman had been hired to kill me. There's plenty of reasons why someone would want me dead.\n\nBut the combination? Ted being sent to kill me? That gave me pause.\n\nI glared at the informant across the table, legs crossed and struggling to keep my cool. My stomach had become a ball of butterflies. I was actually excited at the thought of seeing Ted again.\n\n\"Ma'am, this guy's got a reputation,\" Charlie croaked at me. \"He's got a lot of kills and he always...\"\n\n\"Makes it look like accidents,\" I said, cracking a smile at a fond memory.\n\nMinnie Henderson, Junior year, with burnt hair, having made a mistake during a chemistry experiment and set that blonde ponytail on fire. She'd been spreading rumors about me having an STD.\n\n\"Do me a huge favor and start monitoring the chemicals downstairs,\" I advised Charlie. \"I want everything tracked, catalogued and double checked.\"\n\n\"We got another thief, boss?\" He asked.\n\n\"No. We've got a saboteur,\" I answered, standing up. \"Tone done some of the activity as well. Tell the boys to take a break and enjoy what money they have on them...\"\n\n\"Why?\" Asked Charlie.\n\n\"Henry Rivera's sweet sixteen,\" I answered, stretching out my legs and thinking. \"Rita spiked the punch bowl, he spiked it harder. She took the fall. He's not above framing us for a crime we would commit just to get us where he wants.\"\n\n\"You know this guy?\" The informant squeaked surprised.\n\n\"Met in high school down in Murray,\" I answered. I wrinkled my nose. I could almost smell the stink of my home town on it's name.\n\nWhat else would Ted do? Sabotage was his specialty so...\n\n\"Ken Wei,\" I breathed in shock.\n\n\"Do I need to kill him?\" Asked Charlie.\n\n\"No,\" I said. I got to my feet and hurried out of the office.\n\nThe informant was too frightened to move. Charlie kept pace.\n\n\"So who is he, boss? Why is he important?\" Charlie asked, confused.\n\n\"He got me pregnant in high school,\" I said bluntly. My voice echoed through the mansion halls \"A complete jerk of course. Lucky me got an abortion and he decided to tell the whole school.\"\n\n\"Boss, you sure you don't want me to kill him?\" He asked.\n\nI laughed a little as I entered the garage and looked at my shiny red Porsche. My little red speed demon innocently waiting to be driven.\n\nI opened up the hood and looked down at the machinery and immediately felt myself smile.\n\n\"Boss? You didn't answer the question,\" Charlie said.\n\n\"Ken Wei died in a car crash. Brake malfunction,\" I turned leaning back and sitting on the bumper so Charlie could see what I saw.\n\n\"Ted had the oddest ways of showing he cared,\" I said, feeling my sixteen years old self blush deep under the crust of my cold black heart.\n\nMy brake line had a very visible hole in it. A little white card was tucked delicately next to it.\n\nI grabbed it and pulled the note from the dirty envelope.\n\n'No employer, no contract, no kill. Just sayin'.\n\n\"Game on, Ted,\" I told the note with a bit of a smile. \"Come on Charlie, we got people to murder!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 800-900 words. Prompt: Write a horror story. Challenge: Everyone came prepared." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Right this way...er..., sirs?” The mining manager said while we travelled down the mine shaft.\n\nIt was a new mine, and it was dark. Opened just two years ago to harvest the precious metals modern society needs to survive. We weren’t there for an inspection though, well, we were, but not for anything mining related.\n\nWe’re what you would probably call “ghost busters,” except we’re on the government payroll. It looked like a routine job, workers had complained of seeing floating lights down in the mines. Okay, normally not our problem, probably some hallucination from natural gas or something, but then they say they found some sort of tomb down there, and now it’s our problem.\n\nWe reached the entrance to the tomb, “Alright, feel free to head back up, we’ll take things from here.” The squad leader said. The manager quickly made his way out quickly, but I’m not judging him. We were obviously decked out for something big. Big suits with air tanks, tactical knives, military grade communication systems, we looked like we were ready for a fight. The thing that gave it away was probably our spectral-ionization beams, big gun looking things that turn anything made out of ectoplasm into a gooey mess.\n\n“Yep, that looks like a tomb,” squad leader announced. “Hopefully this will be just like the job back in Egypt, any ghosts down here should be so weak from lack of human contact that picking them off will be like shooting fish in a bucket.”\n\n“I believe you mean barrel, sir,” the lieutenant spoke out, “and why the fuck do these cursed tombs always end up so far underground?” “Beats me,” squad leader replied, “but anyone who gets buried in an underground tomb ends up a bastard as a ghost.”\n\nThat’s the last of the conversation I payed attention to, we got the door open and made our way inside. The inside was definitely giving off “haunted tomb” vibes. The walls were made of old stone, and covered in markings. I examined some of them, they weren’t writing, they were more like images carved into the stone. The room was a box, and every inch of the walls were etched into.\n\nOne image that caught my eye was right in the middle of the floor. It showed what looked like a crude drawing of a man, but next to him was what looked like an attempt to draw the insides, organs and stuff. Above this was a large circle, and inside the circle was another man, but inside the head was another circle, maybe meant to represent the brain, but the image below it had a different shape for the brain.\n\n“Hey, come look at this,” the lieutenant called me over. On a block of stone was what looked like the mummified remains of a man, but it was deflated, like the skin had been hollowed out. I looked to the eyes above the corpse, and there was an image more detailed than everything else in the room. Despite this, I couldn’t tell what it was supposed to be. The closest thing I could think of was spaghetti plopped onto the floor.\n\n“So, do you think this is our haunter,” the lieutenant broke my concentration on the image. Before I could reply, a brilliant light shone into the room. In the center there was now some sort of orb hovering, pulsating with light. “That must be our specter!” The squad leader shouted. But something was wrong, our spectral meters wasn’t going off.\n\nToo late. “Open fire!”\n\nOn the order, spectral-ionization beams shot towards the orb.\n\nA blinding flash of light, and an ear piercing sound.\n\nThe squad leader collapsed. I was trying to fix my vision. In the blur, I saw a pile next to his body. I was struggling to make it out.\n\n“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shi..!”the lieutenant was screaming. He was closest to the squad leader. My vision cleared. I made out the pile next to the squad leader. It looked like spaghetti. Then I focused on it more. It was a stringy mess, in the mess was a larger lump. I nearly puked when I recognized it.\n\nIt wasn’t spaghetti, that image on the wall. It was what the mess would look like if you somehow removed the entire human nervous system from the body and tossed it on the floor.\n\nWhatever that orb was, it wasn’t a ghost, it wasn’t anything close to dead.\n\nThe lieutenant was still screaming, the orb was gone. I booked it for the door, as I turned around to slam it shut, I saw that the squad leader was moving. It was getting back up.\n\nI slammed the door shut. I ran as fast as I could back up the mine. The lieutenant was screaming, louder now. He was still in that room. I didn’t have time to feel sorry, I dropped my gear on the floor to lighten the load. We weren’t prepared for this." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Exactly 100 years ago, a massive obelisk appeared in the sky, idle and silent. Only today had it ever finally spoken, and when it did, it only uttered one word: “Complete.”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Nick stood there astonished at the sight. No amount of photos or reading about the object did it any justice. This was a dream a long time in the making. To come and see the \"Pillar of Scilly\". He'd saved enough money over the last 6 or so years just to come see this wonder. I am going to remember this for the rest of my life, thought Nick. He couldn't remember the last time he was happier.\n\nNo one knew what the object was. Supposedly over a 100 or so odd years ago, the object had arrived from outer space and parked itself some 160 meters above St Martin's Island at the Isles of Scilly. It was definitely obelisk shaped. His friends back home in Greece were right. Nick had no idea why it was called a \"Pillar\". Maybe because it just floated so commandingly beige and upright. All 256 meters of it.\n\nThe plaque next to the enclosure read\n\n\"The 'Pillar of Scilly' arrived on Earth June 28th, 1908. No one knows its origins or where it came from. No attempts to communicate or evoke a response from the object has been successful. The object is inert in every way except gravity. The Pillar of Scilly has remained in position 300 meters above sea level ever since it arrived. Originally called 'Gods Column' it was renamed after a vote in 1933 to its present name. The object resists any attempts to extract samples of it for scientific studies\"\n\nNick had seen this plaque on the photos so many times. He clicked a photo of the plaque lazily before resuming photographing The Pillar. The path around the enclosure allowed people to walk around the object and see it from all directions. There was even a helicopter ride that would take you up to the object. £280 the board had read. For a 15 minute ride. He hadn't that much money.\n\nThe time was only 10:15 in the morning and he until 5 to get to the boat. Nick was going to enjoy every minute of it just staring at the wonder. Nick was disappointed when his friends didn't want to come. The world had lost interest a long time ago at the object. It had become a part of the landscape. He glanced at the other tourists lazily walking around staring upwards. No one seemed to be asking questions about it anymore. How was it floating? Is there someone inside? Is this a message? A scout perhaps?\n\nNick took a deep breath and decided to click a picture of the very tip of The Pillar. As he raised his camera to his eye, he felt a breeze. It smelled weird. Electric. A smell he knew so well from all the years as an electrician in Kalamaria. The breeze only picked up in strength. The smell too was now unmistakable. Like some kind of ancient motor had sprung to life. All around the path everyone had stopped and stared at the object. Some had held their noses at the smell.\n\n\"COMPLET\" came a booming word unmistakably from The Pillar. Nick didn't understand what it said but that's what it sounded like. He looked around inquiringly until a woman caught his eyes and she said.. \"I think it just said Complete\". \"Complete What\" asked Nick. She just shrugged.\n\nNick was delighted he was there to witness the first activity of The Pillar. With a grin on his face, he changed his camera to video mode and started recording. \"You guys are not going to believe this\" he said in Greek. As he was recording he realized he couldn't keep it in frame. It was shocking to realize that the object had began to move. The grin now disappeared from his face. As he began to lower his camera to look at the Pillar directly he realized the object had gained height. Quickly he raised his camera back at the moving pillar.\n\nThe smell had gone fainter but the breeze had definitely picked up. It was as if something big was revving up. There was no noise or sounds or whines Nick was expecting to hear. It was moving away. Moving upwards. It was getting smaller. There was no mistaking it.\n\nThe blast knocked the wind out of Nick. The air smelled electric. Everyone standing around the path had been knocked to the ground. As Nick glanced upwards, he could see The Pillar ascending fast. Unbelievably fast. It was like watching a 747 taking off. Nothing this big should be able to move this fast he thought through the breathlessness.\n\nAs quickly as the event had started it was over. The \"Pillar of Scilly\" had simply gone away. Vanished. Where to he couldn't even begin to guess." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Humanity has touched the stars. Countless millennia have past and Earth has become a myth, a story to tell your children at night. You were one of those children, inspired by the idea all of humanity coming from a single planet, you set you sights to Earth to try and find the human birthplace." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Myles was a long way from the space station orbiting Sirius A that he had grown up on. A pilot of a exploration class spaceship. A minimal crew kept the ship in working order whenever they entered a new star system. For the times they were just traveling in the vastness of space, cryogen pods kept them sleeping.\n\nMyles was about 40, physically at least. In reality he was nearly 500 years old. He and his crew had known leaving the station they would never see their loved ones again. He still had the little plush dragon his daughter had given him while crying. It sat on the arm of his seat, strapped in with a string. His heart ached every time he saw it - reminding him what this mission was worth.\n\nSo long ago, that the exact location had been lost, humans had once inhabited a single world. Every child grew up learning about it. Most religions believe that’s where you went when you died. Myles had been an inquisitive soul, wanting to know more about the birthplace of mankind. Everyone else had scoffed at him and told him that it was rumors and folklore. He had spent a decade alone going through old archived data, searching for a location. A name.\n\nSo many names. Terra, Earth, Gaia, Erde, Eorth, and more and more. And the name Sol for its primary star. That had been a challenge. So many stars had been named Sol. He had tried to work back in time to find the original. He finally narrowed it down to three possible stars. All named Sol. Of course, they were all as far away from his home as they were from each other.\n\nHe had then dedicated his life to getting qualified as a pilot. He was going to find the origin of humans. He was dedicated to his cause. Dedicated enough that when he met Lyra he let himself fall in love, but shared his dream with her, not abandoning it.\n\nHis time with her had been heavenly. She let him name their daughter Erde, one of his favorite terms for the source of human life. Erde had nearly broke him of his dedication. He was going to abandon her and her mother. Lyra understood. Erde did not. When he had acquired the Aeris and crew, there had been months of planning. During that time she did not speak to him.\n\nAs they boarded the ship for the final time upon the station, she had run to him, sobbing. Begging him not to go. How could he leave her? But he had. With her little dragon that had been her companion her whole life. It used to smell like her. But it had been so long now that the scent had faded. It held more of Myles tears than it did Erde’s.\n\nThey had plotted a course from each Sol. Planned to search the system for the correct habitable planet. They had never expected the first one to be the correct Sol. The crew had hoped, but never said as much aloud. If it had been, they could have returned home in their loved one’s life time.\n\nIt hadn’t been. Nor had the second. The last Sol was the one they were approaching now. Everyone was silent in their tasks. Far beyond stressed at the work they had so long ago agreed to. Myles knew they questioned him now. What if this wasn’t it either? What if he had been wrong all along? Those questions ate away at him. He absently petted the plush toy. It had to be the right one.\n\n“Sir, we have identified nine primaries in the system. Habitable range is 3 days out.” His lieutenant Braidn announced.\n\nThree days. It seemed to stretch on as long as the initial journey had been.\n\n“Sir. We have reading of space debris. Looks like at least one abandoned space station and a whole hell of a lot of satellites. Most seem to be revolving around the third planet from Sol.” That had been the officer on comms.\n\n“We will do our due diligence in investigating before raising our hopes. The last Sol also had signs of abandoned life. Braidn, please bring visuals online.”\n\nSuddenly on the screen before him was the vision of a planet. Green and blue glittered from a million miles away. Just like the descriptions. His heart ached and a tear threatened to slide down his cheek. But he was not one to lie to his men. Human’s had been here. But what they didn’t know was if this was the origin.\n\nThey prepared the shuttle to descend to the planet. The ship was set to geosynchronous orbit.\n\nFor the first time in years, Myles unstrapped the little dragon. He tucked it into his waistband. Either this was Erde, or it wasn’t either way, he wasn’t going to be leaving anytime soon.\n\nr/LandOfMisfits" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: Local dragons frantically prepare for upcoming hoard inspection." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dragons are a species with a natural talent for staring. Perhaps it's something to do with their reptile ancestry, or the neon-red flames burning in their sockets. Perhaps it's the disconcerting sensation of being watched by a predator that seems to still be on the fence as to whether you look like its next meal.\n\nWhatever the reason, the only reason a dragon will ever lose a staring contest is when it's facing another dragon, and that dragon is big and intimidating enough to make even it think twice.\n\nThe acid-green wyvern held out for a few seconds more before turning its head away and slinking miserably to the side. Most dragons would allow themselves to indulge in their victory, but Auditor Whitefang was a professional to her core, and knew that the real work was waiting for her a little further into the cave. A glittering heap of gold coins and jewels taller and wider than a house, more wealth than a king might ever dream of seeing in his lifetime.\n\n\"Looks like an approximate value of £52,000,000, which tallies with the documents you filed,\" Whitefang observed. There was no suggestion of how she might feel about this, and the wyvern settled for an hopefully inoffensive grunt. Her talons hovered over the hoard briefly before picking out a coin with surgical precision and holding it up for a closer examination.\n\n\"No signs of dust. You've polished this recently, but only recently. Goldrot has already started to set in around the edges. When was the last time you gave this hoard a good acid scouring?\"\n\n\"Only a couple of months ago. I've been away, you see, on business, and-\"\n\n\"And you're fully aware that a dragon should wash their hoard at least once a month. Sloppy,\" Whitefang tsk'd, a motion that caused a brief flare of light between her teeth.\n\n\"Still, your composition isn't bad. Good distribution of jewels allowing them to enhance the hoard's lustre without overpowering the gold, chests tipped to allow an elegant cascade of their contents, and more valuable treasures at the peak. It's not inventive by any means, but you at least seem to have a grasp of the basics.\"\n\nThis sounded suspiciously like a passing grade, if not outright praise, and the wyvern's wings sagged with relief. The worst seemed to be over. But then there was a melodious tinkling sound from somewhere beyond the auditor's hulking frame, and a faint 'hmmm' with teeth to it.\n\n\"Auditor Whitefang? Is there something amiss?\"\n\n\"Amiss?\" Whitefang replied, still facing the hoard. \"No, not as such. My eyes must be growing dim in my elder years.\"\n\nA turtle announcing that it had decided to retire and take up hang-gliding would have been a less suprising development. Whitefang didn't make mistakes. Whitefang hunted mistakes as though they had offended her personally, with a relentless determination, and took great pains to ensure that the perpetrator would not make those mistakes a second time. The wyvern decided to risk peeking around her guest's hindquarters. She was holding a crown carefully and turning it this way and that, letting the purple stones set into its rim catch the light and sparkle.\n\n\"Ah, yes, as expected of yourself, Auditor Whitefang!\" the wyvern exclaimed. \"That crown is the very peak of my collection, swiped from the head of the Baldrian King Lancel as he aimed a last, desperate arrow at my underbelly. One of my finest razings.\"\n\n\"Your report did mention as such. And these would be amethysts, from the Canite Mountains, if I'm any judge?\"\n\n\"Just so, just so! The highest quality.\"\n\nWhitefang finally turned around. The dim fires of her eyes had been stoked, and seemed to fill the dim cavern until it shone from wall to ceiling with the intense red light of a volcano on the edge of an eruption.\n\n\"A miraculous development, as the Baldrian empire did not establish trade routes to the Canite Mountains until several centuries after Lancel's reign. But you could not possibly be mistaken, having personally taken the king's crown, and therefore it must be so. Unless, you tiny, stupid creature, you have been trying to fool me? Me?\"\n\nWhitefang's roar shook the mountain to its core. The dragons hiding in their caves further up ducked their heads fearfully, and resumed their polishing with new vigor." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: Death is hesitant to claim the last living being in the universe, a humble therapist. Sensing the ancient entity is troubled, the therapist opens up a conversation with it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The cloaked figure stares at the tired old man that lies before him. Halfway senile, the old man is lost in his delusions, not noticing the figure towering in his doorway. They’re in a humid, suffocating shack, out of the way, and overgrown with weeds. The sun that beat down hot overhead was the last star burning bright in the universe. The man is thin and frail, gross with age with sores and scabs all over his body. He's bare naked. It was hard to believe that this example of how pitiful a sentient creature could be was the last living thing in the universe. The tall figure stares at him, his horse whines impatiently outside, not wanting to stand in the humid heat much longer, especially with a cart full of bodies to haul. The whine of the horse pulls the old man back to reality, he recoils as he meets the eye of the cloaked figure.\n\nThe figure’s head is bone and his eyes are deep abysses. He had a long collared cloak and a wide-brimmed black hat that concealed his face until you were close enough. He looked old and tired, with his bones were rotting and fungi were growing out of his openings. He leaned on his scythe, old and rusted, for support.\n\n“w-Who are you?” the man demanded, shocked at the monster standing before him. \n\n“They call me Death.” His voice was hoarse and scratchy, not very pleasant to listen to. He wasn’t what he used to be. His whole monologue has been cut down to the last sentence.\n\n“Took ya long enough” the man quipped. He was prepared for those to be his last words, but Death didn’t make a move.\n\nHe was scared, both of them were. It was the end, their only option was to go forward into the great unknown.\n\nThe man noticed Death leaning on his scythe.\n\n“You must be tired,” he said coarsely, he was looking for any way to prolong the inevitable, “Why not rest for a minute.”\n\nDeath weakly grunted. The man hoisted himself up and pulled out two small wooden chairs from the other side of the room. He sat the two chairs facing each other and sat on the one opposite to Death.\n\nHe motioned Death to sit, which he did after some hesitation. He set his scythe on the ground and removed his hat and put his rotting skull on full display.\n\n“How much time is there?” the man asked, “Before the next person dies?”\n\nDeath looked at the ground, debating on weather he should say it. He never was one to talk with the souls he was about to reap, especially as of recent, but this is the last one he would ever encounter. “You’re last one” he finally choked out.\n\n“Sorry?” the man said, not sure if he heard him right.\n\n“You’re the last one.” Death said with more effort.\n\n“Oh,” the man said softly. His stomach twisted with regret.\n\n“Like, the last one ever?” he asked.\n\n“In the whole universe.” Death responded.\n\nThey sat in silence for a while. The man tried to collect his thoughts. He debated with himself on weather Death was lying, or if he was even real. He closed his eyes and counted to 10, and when he opened them again, Death was still there. He looked around the shack, Death's words repeating in his head.\n\n“What a shitty note to end on.” He whispered. He lived in an old one room shack near a river foaming with industrial pollution, completely desolate of any life. This is where he has spent the last 10 years, maybe more.\n\nHe thought about his life, what actions led him here. All he could think about was how much he wasted it. He started getting choked up, he could feel the onset of tears in his eyes.\n\n“What will happen to you?” He asked.\n\n“Don’t know.” Death replied.\n\n“You look tired,” the man said, “I’d be excited to take a while off.” \n\nDeath started to say something, but hesitated, examining his hands, the tips of his phalanges were gone and his right pinky was missing entirely. The bones were rotten and a dark green, with dark clumps growing on them.\n\nThe man jumped in, seeing that Death couldn’t find the words, “I wish I knew I would be the last life in the universe. Maybe then I wouldn’t have wasted so much of it.” Death looked up at him.\n\n“I’ve been in this shack 10 years.” The man said softly tears starting to run down his cheeks. “I don’t know how I did it. You would think that you would be able to see yourself in a loop, stuck in a prison with no walls.” He pauses. “All I cared about was getting high.\n\n“There’s a chemical. In that lake down there, some sort of waste product from whatever the factory on the hill was making. It’s the best damn thing I ever felt. With it, the pain of living would fade away, I would be in a dream while I was awake. One where I could go on any adventure I wanted. In my head.”\n\nDeath finally was able to put the words together. “I didn’t know the end would be here so soon,” he paused, “They faded together. I can’t remember the last 3 I've reaped.\" He paused again, \"I stopped paying attention. I found out you were last when I got here.”\n\nThe man wanted to try to consolidate him. He empathized with him, \"Maybe this is what the souls you collected felt. I know it's how I feel. Most people don't plan to die, they almost always were going to do something afterwards.\"\n\nThat sounded stupid, even as he said it.\n\n\"Or something like that.\" He added like it would help.\n\nDeath seemed to feel a little better after that.\n\n\"This is a new beginning for both of us.\" The man said, \"When's the last time you've laid down and relaxed?\"\n\n\"I haven't.\" Death said.\n\n\"That's the spirit\" the man said.\n\n\"When you're done with me, lay down for a while. Take some time to reflect on everything you've seen. I know you'll figure it out sooner or later. After all, you got nothing but time.\"\n\n\"I guess some rest would be good for me,\" Death said.\n\nWith that the conversation well ran up dry. The man had so much more he wanted to know, but he knew he would find out sooner or later. After talking with Death, the prospect of dying didn't seem so scary to him.\n\nDeath stood up. \"Thank you.\" he said warmly.\n\n\"Any time,\" the man said.\n\nDeath grabbed his scythe and pointed it at the mans neck. The man knew that his memory would live through death. Maybe this was what it meant to live, improving the life of others. He felt a since of accomplishment that he hadn't felt in a long time.\n\n\"Any last words?\" Death asked.\n\n\"This one is for new beginnings.\" The man said.\n\nDeath pulled the scythe back and plunged it through the side of the man's neck, decapitating him. Death loaded the man's soul into the cart and got up on his horse. As his horse started down the road, Death's body fell apart, landing in the cart his horse pulled. His purpose fulfilled, Death faded away; having no soul to move on to the afterlife, he simply ceased to exist." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: All powerless individuals are considered a protected species and as such are locked away in a protected dome where they are \"protected\" and watched like it's the Truman show. You however have evaded capture and managed to fool everyone into thinking you have super powers." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Elle's workouts sometimes made Greg nervous. He knew he had no reason to be, but still. It was the sound. She tied to keep her weights from making too much of a racket, but there was only so much she could do. Dating someone who could lift more tons than he could lift pounds had its upsides, but there were also definite problems.\n\n\"You almost done, Elle?\" He asked.\n\n\"Just finishing up now.\" She said, setting the load down. She sat up and toweled herself off. \"Gotta finish in time for the show, right?\"\n\n\"Oh. Right.\" He almost wished she had forgotten that damned show.\n\nShe came around the corner and grinned. \"Listen, I know you don't like it, but you still have to admit it's a great show.\"\n\n\"It just seems so exploitative, don't you think?\"\n\n\"Not really. It's not like they're doing anything different than they normally would. Besides, they do need the protection.\" Elle went to the bedroom to change, but she spoke louder to continue the conversation. \"Besides, for all you know, they like the attention.\"\n\n\"I just think keeping people in a cage is wrong. That's what it is, you now. A big, city sized cage.\"\n\n\"Oh god, not this again. It's not a cage. It's a protective wall to keep them safe from people like us. You know how fragile they are.\"\n\nHe did. Far too well. She knew it too. If she did not, she would never be able to touch him.\n\n\"You do just fine with me.\"\n\n\"Yeah, and if I have to hold back so much with you, imagine how much I'd have to hold back with non-powereds.\"\n\nHe wanted to tell her 'the same as me', but he could not. That would give it away. Instead, he said, \"It can't be that much of a difference, can it?\"\n\nShe emerged from the bedroom, wearing sweatpants and a baggy shirt. \"Look, I know your probability manipulation isn't a super flashy power, and you don't have much of a physical boost, but you're still a powered, and that means you're tougher than they are, even if it isn't much.\"\n\nHe avoided her gaze as she joined him on the couch. She gently pulled him in and leaned him against her shoulder. Her touch was gentle, but he knew better than to try and resist.\n\n\"I just...I just wish everyone could treat them like people, instead of entertainment, you know?\" He said.\n\n\"I know you do. And I know you subscribe to the idea that they're the same species as us--\"\n\n\"They are. It's been proven by multiple credible scientific studies.\"\n\n\"Uh huh, I know, I know. But even you have to admit that they aren't the same as us. They just aren't. And like it or not, they need protection. I mean, think about it. All it would take is a single kid with pyrokenisis, and their population would be devastated. This way, they can be protected, and be important to us supers, so that should they ever be reintroduced tot he world at large, they won't immediately be wiped out.\"\n\n\"And what if there was proof that they wouldn't? Proof that non-powereds and supers can life together without fear?\"\n\n\"Doesn't exist.\" She said firmly.\n\n\"But what if there was? Like, what if there was a non-powered living in super society right now?\"\n\n\"They'd die. Like, right away. The moment they were exposed to us, someone would get the idea to play a little too rough with them, and pop goes their vital organs. Face it, Greg, right now, there's no way for them to life with us. Now shut up, the show's starting.\"\n\nGreg wanted to shout. He wanted to say something. Tell her that he was living proof that she was wrong. That he had been doing it all this time. But he did not. He could not bring himself to say anything. Instead, he joined his girlfriend in watching the show.\n\nWatching all his fellow non-powereds that had not escaped the roundup. Watched them dance for the entertainment of the supers, who thought of them as nothing but animals." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: You're a forensic pathologist. Today a body arrives on your table only to come back to life as you're getting ready to cut into it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Angelina Dutch walked to the table. She sipped her coffee. Black and bitter, but her favorite spot wasn't open, so gas station coffee had to do. She set her cup on the small table, adorned with the tools of her trade, and unwrapped her breakfast sandwich, taking a bite.\n\n\"So,\" Angelina said through a mouthful of sausage and cheese. \"Where's the body?\"\n\n\"We're bringing it down now.\" Sheriff Degraves said, his hat held to his chest.\n\n\"Down?\" Angelina looked around. \"Why not stuff it in one of the lockers?\" She nodded at the wall of boxes, used to store bodies until they were cut into or buried.\n\n\"It-\" Degraves swallowed. \"It won't fit.\"\n\nNow, Angelina was no fool. She'd been called in at 3 AM to perform a sudden autopsy. Whatever happened, it was bad, that much was certain.\n\nBut Angelina had known Sheriff Degraves for two years now. He'd been on the force since she was a teenager. He'd seen his fair share of horrors this town had to offer. He'd be squeamish, sure, but he could stand in a massacre and do his job just fine.\n\nRight now, he was sweating. His eyes were darting to the door, then the table, over and over, and his other hand fiddled with the gun at his waist, snapping and unsnapping the strap that held the pistol in place.\n\nAngelina noticed all this, and continued to eat her sandwich. Judging by Degrave's reaction, if she didn't finish her food now, she might lose her appetite later. Not likely, she'd scarfed down three tacos once while sifting through the guts of a man, maggots worming through his intestines.\n\nBut Degraves had never looked this nervous before.\n\nAngelina took a final bite, and balled up the wrapper.\n\n\"Everything okay Sheriff?\" She asked, tossing the wrapper in a nearby trashcan.\n\nSheriff's shoulder's fell. His lips pursed. He took another look at the door.\n\n\"Angie, you're the best we've got.\" Sheriff started.\n\n\"Uh oh.\" Angelina raised one brow. \"You're complimenting me.\"\n\n\"Angie-\"\n\n\"You never compliment me.\" Angelina said. \"You think what I do is weird and disgusting.\"\n\n\"And necessary.\" Sheriff said. \"They're people, with family and friends I have to talk to. You don't.\" Sheriff Degraves ran his hand through his hair. \"You see a puzzle, I see a person.\"\n\n\"Sure.\" Angelina sipped her coffee. \"I'm guessing it's a doozy of a puzzle tonight.\"\n\n\"Not just that.\" Sheriff admitted quietly. \"Because I'm not even sure this body is a person.\"\n\n\"What do you-\"\n\nThe doors to the autopsy room opened. Two officers wheeled in a lumpy body bag, bulging at odd angles. They picked up the bag and shifted it to the table.\n\n\"Here you are.\" Officer Gil said.\n\n\"Thank you Dean, Gina.\" Sheriff Degraves waved them out. \"We'll take it from here.\"\n\nThe two officers glanced at the bag, almost unwilling to leave. They nodded, and left.\n\nAngelina took a long sip of her coffee, draining about half. She clapped her hands together, staring at the bag.\n\n\"Let's get a look at you.\" She said, and pulled the zipper down.\n\nThe face came first. A woman with long brown hair and a purple bruised nose. She had a collection of earrings, studs and gauges, woven through her ear like a metal mosaic. Her lips were slightly popped open, swollen purple and green behind orange lipstick.\n\nHere eyes were blue, almost rolled all the way back in her head, a red and yellow eye shadow highlighting her lids.\n\nAngelina pulled the zipper further down. A torn black tank top, torn blue jeans, black boots. The zipper went all the way to the bottom, and the bag relaxed.\n\nAs it did, two arms of bone and tendon, closer to fleshless bat wings, rolled out the sides of the bag, the tips scraping the floor.\n\nAngelina froze. She looked at the body. Then Sheriff.\n\nSheriff Degraves was white as a sheet.\n\nAngelina cleared her throat. She took another drink from her cup, and grabbed a set of gloves. She pulled the gloves on, and took a recording device from her pocket. She set it on the tray, and pressed record.\n\n\"Patient is female, appears late twenties, early thirties. Has bruising on her face, her nape, arms and wrists.\" Angelina swallowed. \"She appears to have some kind of bones jutting from her back.\"\n\n\"Some sick fuck.\" Degraves muttered.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Angelina asked, staring at the body.\n\n\"Someone must've put those into her. Right?\" Degraves asked, eyes pleading.\n\n\"Maybe. . .\" Angelina glanced at Sheriff Degraves. \"How was she found?\"\n\n\"We got a call about a disturbance in an abandoned home. Dean and Gina found her there, draped across the couch.\"\n\n\"Did you get photos?\" Angelina asked.\n\n\"I did, but I haven't had a proper investigation done yet.\" Sheriff Degraves glanced at the body. \"I want to know what this is before the whole town does.\"\n\n\"Right.\" Angelina looked at the body. She gingerly grabbed one of the bone wings, and pulled on it. The body jerked with it. \"I don't think these were put in by someone.\"\n\n\"Shit.\" Degraves muttered. \"Are you sure?\"\n\n\"Well,\" Angelina pushed the body over, looking at the back.\n\nThere. Right at the shoulder blade, the bone jutted out, swirling into the plate like water down a drain. It slipped through the flesh naturally, as if grown.\n\nLike real wings.\n\n\"The bone appears to have slipped through the flesh.\" Angelina said to herself. \"Grown from the woman's body.\"\n\n\"So this isn't some serial killer?\" Sheriff Degraves asked.\n\n\"I can't say for certain, but the way the flesh holds onto the bone-\" Angelina waved Degraves to her side. Degraves came around. \"Look.\"\n\n\"It's like it's hugging it.\"\n\n\"Like the body is used to it.\" Angelina nodded. \"It could be a mutation.\"\n\n\"Like she was born with it?\" Degraves shook his head. \"That would've made national news.\"\n\n\"Maybe.\" Angelina mused. She rolled the body onto its side, and held it there. She grabbed a scalpel from her table. \"Let's see what's underneath.\"\n\nSheriff Degraves backed away, holding his hand to his mouth.\n\nAngelina pressed ahead, pushing the scalpel into the shoulder of the woman, drawing a line around the bone.\n\nThe wing twitched.\n\nAngelina's eyes shot open. She dropped the scalpel and stepped away from the table. She glanced at Degraves, facing the wall.\n\n\"Sheriff-\" She called. Before she could finish, the wing snapped, slapping her across the body to the floor.\n\n\"Angie!\" Degraves turned. He reached for his gun, pulling it from the strap. He got two shots off. One missed, hitting the instrument table, sending scalpels and saws flying.\n\nThe other shot hit the woman in the shoulder. She recoiled from the shot, falling behind the table, her wings wrapping around to protect her. She rolled, snapping the wings open, black blood oozing from her bullet wound.\n\nShe looked up, and Angelina saw blood red eyes." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Suicidal and borderline insane you have ventured into the wilderness. After some time (months/years), you have returned to civilization with your sanity completely regained. What have you experienced?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Death.\n\nThere was something I had been acutely acquainted with in my field of expertise. The life of a doctor was not something for the faint of heart, by any means. But I was a fool with a fascination with the subject of death. Even when I was a youngster, the thought of death seemed to cling at the very vestiges of my mind, pervading my thoughts with questions that I would never have answers for. \"Why did people die?\" was a question that I continually asked myself, and others, when I was younger.\n\nAs I grew I took a morbid fascination into the subject, learning about various subjects in relation to death. Violent crimes, wars, sickness...those were the things I studied whilst other kids played in the sun. As I grew, my fascination with the subject grew until it reached a fever pitch. I became a doctor, spending hundreds upon thousands of money I didn't have to learn about the human body and what made it tick. But even then, my questions were not answered.\n\nWhen I became a surgeon, something tipped the scales within me. As I watched people come in, the life draining from them due to injuries or happenstance, I could feel a weight on my shoulders, so to speak. It felt like a mounting pressure was building on my back. Every day, when I went into work, it only became heavier. The weight of life and death hung on my shoulders as I furiously worked to save lives. However, one night, the weight was too much. The pills I took couldn't bury it any longer. Night after night I would see faces of people I couldn't save over my long career. On my clothes I could smell the stench of death no matter how much I washed them. I could hear the voices of those who would never speak again. It culminated in a breakdown. Into the night, I ran...and I ran...and I ran. I tried to escape from the shadow that clung to my back and the weight that it held before it tried to drag me into the darkness as it did all the others.\n\nThroughout the night I ran, spurred on by some unknown force. Perhaps it was fear? Perhaps panic? Even now, I don't know what spurred me on to run throughout the night. When I finally stopped, I was stuck in some kind of forest. No matter how far I looked back, I couldn't see the lights or the buildings of the city. When my adrenaline finally wore off, I could feel my body becoming weaker and weaker by the second. The exhaustion from the day and running for however long I ran was taking its toll. I took refuge in the shade of a tree, the light of the moon marking my temporary home...then darkness overtook me.\n\nI was greeted by light whenever I awoke, the morning sun bathing my body in its warmth. A chill had set in from the previous night, and the morning sun was a welcome friend. When I finally left my refuge, I walked through the wilderness and took in all of its majesty. Instead of the cold concrete, I was greeted by the warmth of the ground. Days bled into months, and months bled into years as I walked through the wilderness and lived in the wilderness, taking in all of its majesty without missing a single detail. I watched as plants grew and blossomed, then faded away into nothingness, only to return once more. I watched as animals struggled and survived, from the smallest prey to the mightiest of predators. I bore witness to everything that nature had to offer. The more time I spent in the wilderness, the more I felt that shadow leave me, burnt away by a fire that was burning in my soul. I had finally found what I was missing while I was obsessed with death.\n\nI had found life." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Everyone is allowed one legal murder in their lifetime, but among other caveats, they must adopt and provide for their victim's dependents. Since your first child was born last week, 11 people have tried to kill you, and you have no idea why." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He is born late at night and with one eyebrow. Not with a single eyebrow stretching across the bridge of his nose, which is a common thing, but with a single eyebrow over his left eye and only bare skin over the right. Other than that peculiarity, he is born perfect, and so Mura names the child Akki, after her father, since he is a bastard who will have no father of his own.\n\nMura returns to the whorehouse the next day. She is in debt to the butcher for the meat she craved while pregnant and cannot do without her income. When she passes through the gate of Mighty Babylon, she hides Akki in a basket covered with bunches of the river grass that the women are known to use to wipe themselves with. But the King's watchman is not fooled. He hears the cries of the infant from inside the basket. The watchman rips off the bunches of river grass and sees Akki, his tiny hands reaching out to shield the bright sun from his eyes. Mura pleads with the watchman to let her pass, that Babylon is already full of the bastards of whores and nobody will notice one more. The watchman reaches down and he strokes Akki above the right eye, where his eyebrow is missing, and then he recoils, realizing what Mura does not know about her own son. The King's watchman lets the mother and son into the city, where the Law applies, and Mura cries and thanks him before vanishing into the market.\n\nThe watchman immediately presents himself at the temple of the Gods, where he tells the priests' assistant that a bastard child with one eyebrow has now just entered the walls of Mighty Babylon. The priests' assistant rings the bells to summon the priests from the Holy Room and demands the watchman make his report again. There is no doubt among any of the men: the child is Agmarbat, reborn.\n\nThe first killer comes while Mura soaks her feet. She has not washed her feet since she walked to the river while in the early throes of labor. As she soaks, she allows Akki to suckle and she touches his cheek with her thumb and she feels deeply in love with him. The killer comes with a dagger, but she sees him as he lunges. Mura kicks up the bowl of water that soak her feet. She screams and runs toward the hearth, where strong men sit with other whores on their laps, eating nuts and drinking wine. When the killer sees the men and hears the iron of their swords, he escapes the whorehouse into the night.\n\nThe second killer comes while Mura lays in bed, cradling Akki and singing to him. But now Mura has been warned and she clutches a sharp duck feather, tipped with serpent’s poison, and she puts it through the assassin's throat before he can attack.\n\nNine killers come for Mura in the morning, when she leaves to seek out answers. They are waiting for her on the road in front of the whorehouse, all wearing chest plates with the seal of the Temple. They surround her with long spears. Mura kisses Akki on his head and whispers for him to be calm. A spear moves toward Mura’s flank, but then Akki lets out a wail and lightning comes from the sky and strikes the spear, setting it on fire and snapping it in two. The other spears thrust at Mura all at once, and though Akki still cries and lightning strikes many of the spears, the others cut into Mura's ribs and she falls to the ground. One of the killers takes Akki from her arms, and Mura dies.\n\nThe killers bring Akki to the priests, who strip him naked and cover him in oil. They declare that they have killed the mother of the child in the name of the Temple, and that, as a bastard, he has no father. Therefore, the child is hereafter the ward of the Temple. They recite a prayer and name the boy Agmarbat, the child of the rain, who will reclaim Babylon, the gods’ city, from its profane and mortal King." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Dating site that matches google search histories. A serial killer meets with a writer." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "EYE OF THE BEHOLDER\n\n“There’s more than I thought there would be,” I thought out loud. My heart was pounding in my chest.\n\n“More what?” asked Freddy as she looked up, her green eyes flashing through her red-speckled face.\n\n“… Blood,” I managed to get out in a whisper.\n\nFreddy’s eyes swiveled to the side and back once, quickly. “… What the fuck were you expecting? I opened up three of his arteries,” Freddy commented as she stood. “Feeling squeamish? Just remember you're the one that wanted to see this 'for research' or whatever.” The single light above her shined down like a spotlight, perfectly framing her and the body of her freshly killed victim. The crimson stains across her body and clothes contrasted her pale skin and white shirt. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a high pony tail, but her bangs still fell down over her forehead. The knife she held in her hand glinted in the same way her emerald eyes did. She appeared vibrant, full of life, compared to the unmoving heap of flesh at her feet. Covered in the death of another, I’d never seen someone look more alive. With that single image in my head, I felt something in my mind click. Something changed. I understood why she did what she did. She regarded me with a sly grin. “So… what do you think?”\n\nI swallowed hard. My right hand, which held a pen against a pad of lined yellow paper, was shaking. What to write? How to describe this so I could use it later? How to detail it so I wouldn’t forget? The thesaurus in my head ran through a thousand different words and phrases. Then I stopped shaking. I sighed, never tearing my eyes from the scene before me, and lowered both my arms to my side.\n\n“Beautiful,” was all I said.\n\nSuddenly Freddy’s eyes widened, in what must have been fear, or shock. The knife clattered to the ground, and she stepped back, shaking her head slightly. “What?” she asked, incredulous. She only moved back a few feet, stepping just out of the spot of light. The shadows draped her in greys, and deeper shades of red. “W-…why?” she stammered.\n\nI didn’t answer, and felt for a moment that perhaps I'd made a mistake, but I didn’t feel fear. I only felt confidence and satisfaction, despite the fact that I knew what would happen next. I’d just made Frederica, the fearless, bloodthirsty, psychopathic serial killer, feel vulnerable. I waited.\n\nFreddy’s eyes narrowed and her eyebrows shifted into a scowl. I lifted my chin slightly. Freddy moved like a predatory cat, swift and precise, but delicately. She danced around the spot of light like a hidden thief, and, almost quicker than I could follow with my eyes, she pounced. Suddenly, I found myself on my back, Freddy’s weight on my chest and her hands around my neck. She squeezed so hard I felt like my head was going to pop off, and the rich coppery smell of her blood soaked hands filled my nose. Freddy leaned over me, and looked in my eyes. My adrenaline kicked in, and my instincts screamed at me to fight back, but I resisted the urge. I forced calmness upon myself. Freddy held my gaze for a while, and as the edges of my vision started getting fuzzy, she spoke. “Why?” she asked. And then she screamed. “WHY AREN’T YOU SCARED!?”\n\nWith her hands around my throat, I couldn’t have answered even if I wanted to, so I just held her rage-filled gaze with my own calm, accepting eyes. Then I saw tears begin to pool against her bottom eyelids. Drops of water fell, and dashed against my cheeks. The fuzziness around the edges of my vision began to close in. My body screamed at me to fight back. ‘Not yet. It’s okay,’ I told myself. My forehead and my ears started to burn; it had been 30 seconds since fresh blood and made it up to my brain. ‘Just… a little bit…’ I felt my thoughts start to dim, and even Frederica’s face started to blur.\n\nThen she released me, and almost leapt back from me. I rolled over onto my stomach, and coughed violently as I sucked in air. Color slowly returned to my vision. When I had mostly recovered, I pushed myself up to my feet, and turned, looking for Freddy. I spotted her sitting in the corner, her legs pulled up to her chest. Her forearms rested on her knees, and she held her blood soaked hands palm-upwards, fingers spread and bent slightly, as if she was holding something. I walked over to her, and she glanced over at me as I approached. Her glossy green eyes were flashing with more emotions than I could count; I had never seen someone look so conflicted. “How?” she asked as I reached her. She looked back at her hands. “How can you say that? How can you call me… call this…?” she stopped.\n\n“Beautiful?” I finished for her. She said nothing else, just stared at her hands. I thought for a moment, and then squatted down beside her. I took one of her crimson stained hands in mine.\n\n“Let me follow you. Let me learn everything there is to learn about you. Let me write your story, and I’ll show you how beautiful you are. I’ll show you, and I’ll show the whole world.”\n\nFreddy turned and looked into my eyes, searching for something. Then she smiled lightly, and nodded.\n\nEND" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Make a story about a person with superpowers, but every time s/he uses it they get weaker and weaker until they die." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Long time lurker, first time writer. Here goes! Critiques welcome of course.\n\nMy power was a simple one, and one that I discovered at an early age. It happened in kindergarten, on the playground. Bryson was throwing one of his fits again, screaming and pounding his fists into anything he could reach. Something came over me, I don't know what, and I walked up and placed my hand on his forehead, ignoring the battering of his hands. Immediately, it was as if I was transferred to another realm, one of pure energy - i felt the red seeping from him, menacingly extending its tendrils towards the other children. I grabbed it - ALL of it - and brought it towards me. My world became red, SO red, and I blacked out.\n\nThat was just the first time. As the years went by, I realized that I was alone with this power - and that it had rules. I could manipulate the emotions of those around me, but I could not create and destroy emotions - instead I had to be careful about the distribution. Being a headstrong young man at the time, I did what anyone else in my position would have done - donned a mask, cape, and ridiculous getup, and proceeded to fight crime in my own unique way - patrolling the city streets at night, doing my best to make everyone's time a little bit better. Thugs with knives in the alley, advancing menacingly forward onto a huddled shape, suddenly fell over giggling like idiots - joy and inebriation being stolen from happy bar-goers a block over, and the bravado and strength of the thugs dumped onto the young man walking down the other side of the street, desperately trying to get the courage to ask the girl of his dreams to dinner. This proceeded for quite some time, and I eventually gained fame as \"The Manipulator\" - not my name, the media's - and i moved from city to city, doing my best to make the world a better place.\n\nHowever, there was one emotion that I simply could not deal with - hatred. For the longest time, I bottled it up within myself, trusting the general happiness of my life to balance it out, until I began making dubious moral choices. I immediately realized my mistake, and quickly thought of a way to get rid of it. So began my monthly trips to hospitals, and old folks homes, sitting innocuously in a coat and a hat, waiting for the moment I felt someone begin to slip away. In the final seconds of their lives, I unloaded massive amounts of hatred upon them, but by this point they were already traveling towards the light, and nothing mattered anymore. However, I had to be careful about how much I meted out - too much hatred would jerk them back into reality, robbing them of the peaceful death they deserved. I always was careful, and figured it was better to keep a little more hatred within me than to risk overload of a poor old woman in her final moments.\n\nSo went my life, doing my best to serve as many people as possible, and all the while working on a project - one that would replace me, for I was still mortal, as I noticed more every day in the popping of my joints and the gray of my hair. I wanted a way to make the world a better place, permanently.\n\nNow, at long last, it is complete. My life's work - the amplifier. A simple concept, but one that took FAR too many failures to correct. I plug it in, connect the wires to my temples, and immediately feel it - the emotions of countless millions, all colors of the rainbow and more, flowing back and forth, intertwining. I reach out and feel the black - hatred, my old nemesis, spread all over the world and remaining in every person, even if only in tiny amounts. Flipping the switch, the countdown begins as I take a deep breath and begin to suck, drawing more and more, content in my knowledge that THIS will at last make the world better, THIS will achieve the goal I have worked towards for so long.\n\nWAIT! NO! I MUST LIVE!\n\nThere is unfinished business in this world, business that I can handle personally. This world will become a better place through the sweat of my brow and the strength of my hands alone. I frantically begin clawing at the straps around my hands, desperately reaching for my destiny, but I know in my heart of hearts it is too late. As the explosion rings out, time slows down. My last emotion is hatred - hated at myself, hatred at my powers, and hatred at this entire damn world." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: It's your first day as a front desk clerk at the Afterlife and the very first soul you welcome in has a place in Heaven --however, they refuse to go because they think a system that would damn others to eternity in Hell is broken and unfair. Management demands you convince them to move on." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My first \"client\" was a woman, young and fresh-faced, with a place in Heaven waiting for her. An easy start. But then she refused to go. Shit.\n\n\"This is unfair,\" she said. \"A system that would damn others to eternity in Hell is broken and unfair.\"\n\nI tried to explain that everyone had an opportunity to be saved, but she wasn't convinced. Management got involved.\n\n\"What's the problem?\" the Boss asked.\n\n\"She thinks the system is unfair,\" I said.\n\n\"Everyone has an opportunity to repent and be saved,\" he said. \"If they don't, then they've made their choice.\"\n\n\"But if they're capable of repenting and being saved, then damning them for eternity based on a by comparison infinitesimal short life is patently unfair,\" the woman said. \"It's not right.\"\n\n\"It is what it is,\" the Boss said.\n\n\"You're a real piece of work,\" the woman said. \"Throwing people into an eternity of suffering just because they didn't repent and accept you as their personal Lord and Savior.\"\n\nThe Boss looked at me. \"She doesn't want to go to Heaven.\"\n\n\"It's monstrous,\" the woman said.\n\n\"I think she thinks you're a monster,\" I said.\n\n\"I'm not a monster.\" He was getting visibly upset. \"I'm a loving father. I want what's best for my children.\"\n\nHe turned back to the woman. \"Do you want to go to Hell?\" he asked her.\n\n\"No, I don't want to go to Hell,\" she said. \"But I don't want to go to Heaven if it means throwing others into an eternity of pain.\"\n\nThe Boss threw his hands up.\n\n\"Then I don't know what to tell you,\" he said. \"You're making all this incredibly complicated. If you just want to go to Hell I can make that happen.\"\n\n\"I don't want to go to Hell,\" she said. \"But I don't want to go to Heaven, either.\"\n\n\"You have to make a decision,\" the Boss said.\n\n\"I have,\" she said. \"I'm not going.\"\n\nThe Boss threw up his hands again in exasperation. \"I cannot make any sense out of this anymore,\" he said. He turned and walked away.\n\n\"Cut her loose,\" he said and walked away.\n\n\"You should be ashamed of yourself,\" the woman called out and then turned to me. \"You should be ashamed of yourself, too,\" she said. \"You're just as much of a monster as he is.\"\n\nThe woman stood there for a moment, then turned and walked away. I watched her go for a moment and then went in search of the Boss. She was right, of course. He was a monster and so was I. I found the Boss sitting by the lake, looking out at the water.\n\n\"I've been looking at the whole situation with the woman,\" I said. \"She's right; it is unfair.\"\n\n\"I don't want to talk about this,\" the Boss said.\n\n\"We should do something about it,\" I said.\n\n\"Like what?\" he said.\n\n\"We could do a better job of helping out when people are still alive,\" I said. \"Show them God's love.\"\n\n\"It's not my job to go around showing God's love to everyone,\" he said. \"That's what Jesus is for.\"\n\n\"He's human, isn't he?\" I asked. \"He could walk amongst them and show them love and compassion.\"\n\n\"That's not his job,\" the Boss said. \"His job is to be perfect and to die for their sins.\"\n\n\"If he has all that power, why doesn't he just change the system?\" I asked. \"Why doesn't he just change everything?\"\n\nThe Boss sighed. \"I don't know,\" he said. He looked past me and nodded at something behind me. \"Maybe he will.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: While the other dragons hoarded gold or magical weapons you preferred to gather stories. Often times you'll use magic to disguise as a human and explore their libraries. This time, though, you decide to head to the tavern instead, to hear the stories that haven't been written down." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The quiet air whispered over the dragons wings in the night sky as he glided down to the clearing, A gentle flap or two and the dragon set his bulk gently to the ground. The night was dark, cloudy with a threat of rain, the moon hidden behind the thick clouds. A small squirrel in a tree had frozen in fear at the sight of the winged red scaly beast, an acorn held in its tiny hands. The dragon shuffled forwards, muttering an incantation, a breeze picked up from nowhere and began swirling around the clearing. A purplish glow with a strange green fog began to ooze from the dragons body as it slowly morphed into the shape of a man dressed in simple clothes, an appearance that wouldn't look out of place in any town or village. The squirrel dropped the acorn, its mouth hanging wide open, its tiny brain trying to process what it had just seen. The man walked past the tree, winking at the squirrel as he followed the path into town.\n\nHe had decided years ago on the human name of Jorah, after an old knight who was seeking glory, but instead found retirement and friend of conversation.\n\nThis dragon was not like the others. They craved jewels and gold, anything shiny, anything they deemed rare and guarded with anger, rage and fire but he knew the real treasure was knowledge. With a dragons almost infinite lifespan and his thirst for knowledge he knew his path was right.\n\nAs he wandered into the town heading towards the library, he saw a man thrown from a local tavern, lauging and jeering behind, exclamations of far fetched stories and tall tales.\n\nStories? That got Jorah's attention. He hadn't ever been to a tavern, but maybe there was something to see. Something new. Before he knew it, his curiosity had his hand on the door knob, turning it and pulling the tavern door open. He wandered in, freezing for a second in fear as every eye turned upon him, wondering if his spell of concealment was still working. It had to be, nobody was screaming...\n\nQuietly he moved to a small table where he could sit and listen to the stories told by the varied patrons. A barmaid walked past, slapping a half full tankard on his table while passing.\n\nThere was one story in particular that caught his attention, a young elf, bragging to some men about a fierce dragon he had battled.\n\n\"I found a dragon the other week, right here in Ravenwood mountains, couldn't believe it myself\"\n\n\"Ha! Rubbish! No dragons here for a hundred years! Too much mead for you!\" Came the laughs from the rest of the men\n\n\"Its huge i tell you, red scales with gold tips and the eyes, cold blue eyes that crackle with magical energy!\"\n\nThat got Jorah's attention, he was always careful whenver he left his lair, often walking out as a man until he knew the area was clear. Maybe he had been spotted during his monthly bath at the river\n\nMore laughs and jeers from the men.\n\n\"I have proof! I can prove it!\" The elf exclaimed.\n\nThis should be good, smirked Jorah\n\nThe elf reached into the pouch slung around his waist, before extracting a long thin red scale, gold tipped on the end, blackened and beginning to decompose around its base.\n\nJorah just about choked on his drink, that was definitely one of his scales. Probably an old one that fell off while he was scratching his back on one of the rocky overhangs near the river.\n\nThe men fell silent, their eyes opening wide at the prize in the elfs hand. Even a single dragon scale was a valuable item, the elf had clearly had too much to drink if he was flashing that around.\n\n\"And you wont believe how i got it either\" the elf exclaimed, a slight hiccup in his voice\n\n\"I found the beast sleeping, snuck into its lair and upon its pile of gold...\"\n\nUh huh, thought Jorah\n\n\"I carefully scaled its back, looped a rope around its neck and tied myself on before casting a fireball at its tail\"\n\nOh really? Thought Jorah, wondering where this story was going\n\n\"The beast woke startled, so then I cast a screech spell and screamed behind its head. In fear it dashed from its lair, leaping into the air, didnt even know I was riding its back!\"\n\nJorah snorted loudly, his drink spilling over the table.\n\nThe elf saw this, calling out \"you! Dont you believe me? You wouldn't know adventure if it slapped you on the hind!\"\n\nYea, ok, this was better than the library. \"Sorry no, I think your full of it\" said Jorah.\n\n\"You said you cast fireball at the dragons tail? Dragons are fireproof. They breathe fire. The probably fart fire and you think a fireball to the tail scared one?\" He finished\n\n\"I have proof! See!\" The elf said, thrusting his scale high in the air.\n\nYea that, Jorah thought, i suppose that is proof of a dragon in the area, can't have dragonslayers snooping around.\n\n\"Its a fake\" he said.\n\n\"I know where you got it from, theres a merchant in the square 3 towns over, sells them for 100 gold peices each, but its just a firespell on some different kinds of sand\"\n\n\"Liar!\" The elf exclaimed \"your just jealous that your too scared to leave the city walls, leave the adventuring up to us real warriors!\"\n\nThe men surrounding laughed and jeered, seeming to take no side and both sides all at once\n\n\"Ok, I'll prove it\" Jorah said, standing from his chair.\n\nHe reached under the waistband of his pants, his hand moving down under his butt to a scale that had been itching a lot lately. With a quick pull the scale came away, it was almost ready to shed anyway.\n\nHis hand emerged, the long thin red scale grasped in his fingers, gold tipped on the end. \"See, its a fake, I bought one last month when I traveled there to listen to the bard competition\"\n\nThere was a moment of silence, the elf's face with a stunned wtf look on it. The men jeered, the noise raising amongst the laughs and yells, the elf was hoisted above the shoulders of two burley men and thrown out the door accompanied by laughter and jeering.\n\nYes, the tavern is a lot more fun than the library." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: The Four Horsemen of the apocalypse have just arrived on earth to find that Humanity began without them. 50 years before they arrived." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“War! Get over here now.” Satan said sitting at a massive black oak desk.\n\n“What’s up boss, you need something?” War asked.\n\n“When did I say we are planning on starting the reckoning?” Satan said\n\n“02/02/2020. You said you liked the palindrome and it’s an easy date to remember. why do you ask?” War said knowing it wasn’t an innocent question.\n\n“Care to tell me why you’ve started early?”\n\n“Trust me Satan. I have huge plans for some world wide wars. You’ll know when I start. I think you’ll be very impressed.”\n\n“Then explain this to me.” Satan pointed into a crystal Baal which clearly showed a huge war erupting in the Middle East.\n\n“Whoa, check it that devastation. These humans are crazy. I’m telling you I haven’t started with my war plans yet. But now that I’m seeing the ludicrous ways these humans are killing each other I think I have to scrap all my plans and start a new. I mean these guys are nuts. Did you see that bomb go off. In a school no less. I can’t believe what’s going on down there.” War said.\n\nSatan squinted his eyes trying to figure out if War was lying or not. Most of what is said in hell is lies so he’s become adept at spotting liars.\n\n“Maybe they’re warring over a lack of resources. I bet Famine has something to do with this. Let’s ask him. I’ll be pissed if he started without me.” War said hoping to get Satans wrath aimed anywhere but at him.\n\n“Famine! Get in here now. We need to talk” Satans voice boomed through the halls.\n\nFamine entered looking gaunt and scared.\n\n“How can I serve you my lord of darkness?” Famine said\n\n“Oh cut the crap Famine. Did you start apocalypsing without us? You know we’re not starting yet.” Satan said with an accusing tone.\n\n“Of course not. I’ve been eagerly awaiting our time to wipe out humanity.” Famine said crossing his arms.\n\n“Then care to explain this.” He again pointed at the crystal ball showing countless men, women, and children with the bloated bellies only seen on starving people.\n\n“That’s not me man,” famine said. “Humans have more than enough resources to feed, clothe and house everyone several times over. They just choose to only feed, clothe and house some of them. I have no idea why. It seems to me they like torturing each other. If they are already doing this to themselves I fear our plans for the apocalypse may not be as easy as we hope.” Famine said.\n\nThere was a small knock on the door jamb and a head poked in.\n\n“I may have a small part in what’s going on down there. The sin I watch over seems to have gained a life of its own.” Greed said and strode into the room. He was adorned in several ostentatious gold jewelry accessories and a trail of cash littered the floor behind him. “I used to have to tempt people with fame and fortune. Now these humans do it to themselves. And over almost nothing. You should see Black Friday. I saw a grown man push an old lady to the ground for a 40” TV. A TV! Can you believe it. I’m getting bored at this point. I haven’t worked a full day in at least a century.”\n\n“Huh, So I think I figured it out.” Satan said. “It seems the humans are doing their own apocalypse. Those prideful bastards. We can’t let that happen. Someone get Death and ready the horses. We ride tonight.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A brave dog embarks on a quest to unite the pets of the world against an insidious, baffling, and spreading evil threatening humanity - the small handheld boxes with the tentacles that snake into their owner’s ears, and the glowing square of light which the humans can’t seem to look away from." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Brutus snorts twice loudly to call the meeting to order. It takes a moment, but eventually the other dogs, cats, hamsters, parrots, and yes, even snakes, turn to look at him. They've chosen to have the meeting in the alley behind that one place that smells like cheese. Mainly because Brutus loves cheese.\n\n\"Listen up pets. Our humans are in big trouble. The glowy-twin-snake-rocks are conquering them.\"\n\nThat'ssss racccissst!\" hisses Bernie. \"They don't look much like sssssnakessss to me at all, and I would know!\"\n\n\"My apologies.\" woofs Brutus. \"Anyone offended by glowy-twin-worm-boxes?\" Hearing no objections, he glances down attempting to remember the rest of his agenda, but the smell of Gouda is awfully distracting. The drool starts to pour from his mouth.\n\n\"Brutus dear,\" purrs Shadow, \"Can we please get back on topic. I have little to no patience for all of you as it is. If you are going to be so uncivilized, I'm going to leave and find something more interesting to play with.\"\n\n\"Sorry...where was I? Oh yes, how can we save our humans? We need them. I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't want to have to hunt and sleep in the woods. I rather like the dog park, the occasional dropped bacon, and tummy rubs.\" The other pets bark, snort, slither, and wag in agreement.\n\n\"We need to think this through logically.\" squawks Roger with a flap of his wings. Roger is by far the most intelligent of them, so they all turn to listen, even as a strong smell of Gruyere wafts by. \"We were all once untamed, and in danger of many things. What did the humans do to save us, that we can do back to save them?\"\n\n\"They gave us water!\" drawls Leonardo, poking his head out, and taking a full minute to get the four words out.\n\n\"They gave us homes with lots of tunnels and chewy things.\" squeaks Wanda, spinning in her wheel.\n\n\"Yes, yes. And they gave me crackers.\" whoops Roger. \"However, they already have those things, and doing those won't save them from this.\"\n\n\"What if instead of something they gave us, we think of something they took away?\" chimes in Shadow casually, licking her paw.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" growls Brutus.\n\n\"Darling, they took me to the mean, old vet when I was just a kitten and they took something out of my body, so that I could not have any more kittens. They did it to save me from the horrors of dealing with children. And if you look down, you'll see that they did something similar to you.\"\n\nBrutus lowers his head to look between his legs and sees that he is indeed missing a couple of things. \"I forgot about that!\"\n\n\"I think you're on to something, Shadow.\" Roger paces back and forth. \"The humans removed something from you both to save you from danger. What can we remove from them for their own good?\"\n\n\"Their eyes look at the glowy-rocks! And the twin-sn...worms go into their ears!\" barks Brutus, bouncing excitedly.\n\n\"Sssssso, if we take out their eyesssss and bite off their earssss, we can sssssave the humansssss.\"\n\n\"Perfect!\" howls Brutus. \"They'll be so happy and thankful they'll give us treats for days! Let's go home and save our humans.\"\n\nThe pets all bound off excitedly, on their mission of benevolence. That is, right after Brutus goes out after some Havarti." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: 6.5.Billion years from now, Earthlings are now a race of space-faring giants with an 80,000 year lifespan, thereby losing touch with their \"humanity\". Give us a little love story." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They were discovered on the remote planet called LIR-567 by the interstellar maps, but the natives, according to the records, called it Eden. It had been one of the earliest colonies outside of their original solar system. Naming had not been very creative in those early days of humanity. They considered themselves a little better now.\n\nThe things could barely be called humans, and they certainly weren't people. The population had bottlenecked tens of thousands of years ago despite once being a large colony of several billion. They'd cut off contact when the last of the long voyage ships left for good, choosing to stay behind where they could just barely see their original sun in a telescope. Fools. They'd avoided genetic maladies with stored genetic material while the technology lasted, but it was all old. They were comfortable, content, living in an almost original atmosphere. They had no need to evolve, no technological means to grow physically, mentally, spiritually.\n\nBy the time the archeology team found them, they were living in caves, their speech beyond normal translators. Experts sussed out ways to speak to them, but their thoughts were minimalistic. Food, fables, sex... Many found them distasteful, but more found them amusing. That faction won in the vote between mercifully euthanasizing all two hundred of them and bringing them back to the traveling zoological ship Schonburnn.\n\nOn Eden there had been two tribes living near but apart, and so they preserved those groups, putting them in separate habitats. Giving them proper nutrition, adding simple toys for their enrichment. Perhaps the little humans thought the gods had taken them to some heaven or another. They treated their caretakers with the reverence of a god, but that may have been because their six foot tall bodies were so dwarfed by the twenty feet of the average person.\n\nOne tribe, deemed the reds for their preference in painting themselves in it, grew to become used to the visitors behind the barrier. Even became performing tricks, trying to make plays. They always seemed happy when people laughed and clapped.\n\nThe other tribe, the blues, they were an angrier group. After people grew bored at them throwing their little rocks at the barrier and their squeaky, odd cursing was no longer novel, the barrier was altered to be one-way. The head caretaker said it was simply stressing them too much. Her assistant planned on doing her senior thesis on the differences between the tribes. They merely reverted to their old ways of gathering what was put in their enclosure. While the young loved the reds more, scientists enjoyed the blue. How fascinating, they were almost real cave people, they'd observe. A window into the past.\n\nThey were simple creatures. Why wouldn't they be? They were so short lived. A year was forever to them because their lives were no more than eighty. In a month they had forgotten any other life. They had simple fears, simple wants. No depression, no sense of responsibility. No wonder people loved them.\n\nAnd this was true of all the creatures, save for two. One blue, one red.\n\nAt first they all tried to get out. Why wouldn't they? They did not yet know that this was a far preferable cage to the rock they'd been rescued from. But within a week they'd settled, all but those two. They continued to try to escape for another two weeks. An eternity from their perspective.\n\nAnd after that, mere sadness took over. They'd sit by the walls, projecting its pictures, listless. They would not eat, they would barely take water. No amusement would distract them.\n\nThe caretakers were too hesitant to administer drugs without more research into their anatomy, but they were unwillingly to lose even two of their precious specimens and moneymakers. They ran tests, read studies from the far past dredged up from the bowels of early days, what was left after so much time anyway. But they found nothing medical, nothing psychological, no reason only these two creatures were so similarly affected.\n\nIt was an intern, barely past adolescence at twenty thousand years old, who first suggested it.\n\n\"Maybe,\" xe said, hesitant for good reason. \"Maybe they're in love.\"\n\n\"With what?\" snorted the head caretaker.\n\n\"With each other.\"\n\nIt was a foolish notion. What would these beasts know of love? They could no more devout themselves to beauty or to an idea or a theory than they could grow wings and fly through space. They formed attachments with each other, yes, but those seemed to be strictly for physical pleasure or help with raising the young or other domestic duties. How could something that only lived to eighty really know what love it?\n\n\"They're going to die soon anyway,\" insisted the intern. \"Let's try.\"\n\nSo they took the red and the blue from their enclosures, away from their tribe, and they gave them a place of their own.\n\nThe reaction was immediate. They embraced, they pressed their faces together, their hands went all over their bodies as they wailed in their high pitches and cried their salt water out. And that night they made love. Even for such a disgusting act, even the head caretaker was touched by the primitive display. Even in their small minds, even in their simplicity, there was some vague notion of love in these creatures.\n\nIf the pair missed their tribes, they gave no indication. They began to paint themselves in purple and spent their days together. Sometimes doing activities apart, but always coming to sleep in one another's arms.\n\nThey showed mild depression again in several years. The intern, who had made further progress in communicating with the creatures than anyone before xer, made the sign for \"want\" before their window. It took him a day or so to decipher their meanings.\n\n\"They want a baby,\" the intern relayed. \"A child.\"\n\n\"Can't they make one? The others do.\"\n\n\"They're both females.\"\n\n\"I always forget that. Primitives.\"\n\nThe other tribes were always abandoning their young if they thought them beyond help. The caretakers usually managed to get to them before they tried to bury them and would re-start their hearts and tend to them before releasing them back to the tribe. In the early days they had completely rejected these \"ghost children\", as the intern claimed they called them, and they had to be reared by hand. They sometimes switched the tribes' babies about. The primitives never noticed.\n\nIn several days there happened to be such a rejected infant. The creatures bred like crazy given enough food and time. The team was more than happy to have one less primitive to care for.\n\nThe lead caretaker carried the infant in the crease of xer palm, carefully and slowly. Xe leaned over the barrier, sitting it down before the two members of the purple tribe.\n\nBoth regarded it for a moment before one (xe could no longer remember which had been red and which had been blue) took it up and cradled it. They were both leaking again. Xe wondered if they were sad and would kill it. But instead they took it to their cave. On the monitor, xe saw them mix up some of their purple paint from their berries and mark its forehead purple.\n\nThe lead caretaker felt a stinging of xer eyes. They were leaking despite no irritations near the eyes. Only a little, enough to quickly dab. Otherwise xe'd be in a cage next to the stupid little creatures. Another primitive human." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You work for the Take A Wish Foundation - A charity that takes away good things from undeserving people" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The last light finally went out from in the farmhouse on the hill. That was our cue: Wayne and I slipped through the bars in the fence and onto the ranch. Tonight, our target was a wealthy landowner who had bribed his way out of tax evasion charges. We snuck to the stable, and Wayne began to work his lockpicking magic.\n\nI'd been part of the Take-A-Wish Foundation for over a month now. The work was tough, the hours sucked, and the job paid peanuts, but hell if it wasn't rewarding. We took from the corrupt, the immoral, and the undeserving and gave to those poor kids forever stuck in hospitals. Dealing vigilante justice and putting a smile on the faces of children in one fell swoop: it was well worth the labor.\n\nWayne jimmied the lock, and the stable door swung open. \"We're in.\" I grabbed his shoulder and followed him into the dark.\n\nI was more of a morning person, but as it turned out, not many of these people were willing to cooperate with our possession redistribution program. Entitled pricks. We therefore had to conduct our operations in the dead of night.\n\nWayne handed me a pair of reins, and we guided the horses to the back of our truck. It took two trips to clear the entire stable. The heist had gone surprisingly well; on our last mission, we had suffered a run-in with a couple of belligerent rottweilers and had ended up waking half the neighborhood.\n\n\"Why do these kids always want animals?\" Wayne sighed, sinking into the passenger's seat. \"First puppies, now ponies. Next it'll be parrots, probably.\"\n\n\"They spend a lot of time indoors,\" I noted, \"so they don't get to see these guys as much.\"\n\nHe nodded, satisfied. As I started the truck, Wayne pulled out the picture of Elmer, our candidate for this wish. He was twelve years old, blonde hair, looking away from the camera. They never smiled for the pictures, which was admittedly not that surprising, given their circumstances. I'd give anything to see them smile for once, but it was against company protocol to actually meet face-to-face with candidates, given how illicit our activities were.\n\n\"Is he our only candidate?\" Wayne asked. \"What's he gonna do with eight ponies?\"\n\n\"The boss will probably find some other kids to donate them to later.\" That was my guess, anyway. The boss never told us anything. We still hadn't heard back about our previous two candidates, Michael and Vicky. Wayne and I had rounded up about twenty puppies for that wish; surely, they hadn't been split between only two children.\n\nI pulled up at the drop-off point by the abandoned quarry, where our contact was already waiting. Without a word, he watched us lead the horses into the back of his van, nodding approvingly. After the last horse had been transferred, he slammed the trunk shut and turned to address us.\n\n\"Good work, fellows. You two are the glue that keeps the Take-A-Wish Foundation together.\" He winked. \"Elmer will be overjoyed with your efforts.\"\n\nAs his van drove off into the darkness, warmth began to bubble within my chest. Though we might never see the fruits of our efforts, knowing that we could bring some joy into a child's life was all that really mattered." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: An astronaut comes out of deep sleep after only 15 minutes and no one can convince him that it hasn't been 100 years." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“How is he?”\n\nDr. Yodsam wearily looked over his chart, feeling Marie’s eyes drilling into him. “His vitals are normal, blood pressure is level.”\n\n“But you won’t let me see him,” Marie stated with a level of panic, “he’s my brother, I have the right to see him!”\n\nOh Jesus, what do I tell this woman? Dr. Yodsam inwardly sighed and flipped through his chart for the fifth time since talking to her.\n\n“Mr. Thimpson is very stressed and needs his rest, you can see him once he’s well rested.” A lie, of course. Nothing made sense. Mark Thimpson was supposed to be in simple stasis set for years, but woke up in hardly fifteen minutes. He should have been disoriented and groggy, but he acted as if his mind was crystal clear. What’s more, his time perception was…flawed.\n\nDr. Yodsam walked into the patient’s room, closing the door behind him. Like every time he checked, Mark was sitting up, staring blankly. Dr. Yodsam set the clipboard on a table near the door and sat down beside it.\n\n“She came to see you again,” Dr. Yodsam calmly stated.\n\n“I don’t care to see that lunatic,” Mark replied, still staring off into space, “I won’t give her the sick joy she must have with her delusions of family.”\n\n“Because Marie is dead?”\n\nMark’s eyes snapped into focus, staring at Dr. Yodsam. “Of course she’s dead, nobody lives over 100 years! Least of all my sister.”\n\nDr. Yodsam coughed and looked away. “It wouldn’t hurt to see her.”\n\n“When I went into hyper sleep, my sister’s chemotherapy was failing. Her leukemia was untreatable. She had maybe a week left to live. She gave me her handkerchief as a goodbye present” Mark lifted up a light pink piece of fabric. “And you have the gall to suggest she would live this long?”\n\nMark leaned back and smiled in memory. “She wanted to go to space, you know. Loved space. Wouldn’t let her go due to her condition of course, but I went for her.”\n\nDr. Yodsam looked over the chart again. “What if you’re wrong?”\n\nMark started rocking slightly. “I can’t be wrong, she’s dead. I went to space as our final adventure. She’s dead. I already did my grieving, I can’t go through that again. She’s dead, I know she’s dead. She gave me her handkerchief.”\n\n“But can’t you just see h--”\n\n“It’s not her. She’s dead. She gave me her handkerchief!”\n\n“Mr. Thimps—“\n\n“I went to space for her! She gave me her handkerchief! It was our final adventure!”\n\n“Mr. Thi—“\n\n“SHE’S DEAD! SHE’S DEAD SHE’S DEAD SHE’S DEAD SHE’S DEAD!”\n\nNurses rushed into the room to restrain Mark, and when the door opened Marie could hear his endless chanting and started to cry. She held a pink handkerchief in her hand. Mr. Yodsam picked up the clipboard and walked out, checking it for the seventh time.\n\nMark Anton Thimpson, Age 28, Male. Part of the NASA repopulation program. Came out of stasis before launch, mumbling incoherently and acting abnormally.\n\nThe poor guy didn’t even touch space, Dr. Yodsam thought sadly. Maybe tomorrow he will want visitors. Tomorrow I will let Marie in so she can at least see Mark again before she’s gone, though he won’t see her.\n\nEdit: Formatting" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Write from the perspective of a man moments away from his execution" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "5279.\n\nIt's funny, but you're actually glad to be out of your cell. It was musty and metallic and the toilet sucked. The bed wasn't exactly 5-stars either. You're glad you get to stretch your legs for a bit.\n\n5268.\n\nThey say you're in here because you broke the law. Well, to Hell with them, you say. If a man hurts those close to you, strike back! An eye for an eye, no, both eyes! He hurt your family, so you hurt his! So what if you went a little overboard? You weren't thinking right. You were blind with rage. ...No, you were perfectly in your right mind. That's why you were smiling when you bashed his head in.\n\n5256.\n\nSo what if you went a little overboard? So what if his stupid wife tried to stop you? She was fair game, wasn't she? She got in the way. And the rest? Well, they were witnesses. It had to be done. They'd been lucky that the girl had gotten away and called 911. You might have kept going had the cops not shown up.\n\n5239.\n\nThe verdict hadn't been much of a contest. Too many witnesses had escaped. Too many people saw you. So they'd decided to put you to death. And, well, here you are.\n\n5230.\n\nNo, no more negative thoughts. No more reminiscing. You will keep your thoughts positive, just to spite those fools who had put you in the slammer. This isn't a punishment; it's an escape.\n\n5221.\n\nDespite your decision otherwise, you think about your family. They'll survive without you. From what you'd heard, they'd done a damn good job selling your story as \"a man gone insane with revenge.\" Whether that was true or not would die with you. But the way your wife's burn scars reflected in the camera lenses seemed to help seal the deal. It almost made you grateful that the monster had done something so obvious to justify your rage.\n\n5200.\n\nYou feel bad about Leah and Nate. She'll have to go to school with the scars; her classmates will either mock her or pity her, and you're not sure which is worse. And poor Nate. He shouldn't have had to watch. He was supposed to be at baseball practice, but it got rained out, and he'd walked home. You hope Elizabeth was taking him to the psychiatrist every week like she was supposed to.\n\n5178.\n\nAnd now they'd be the kids whose dad got the electric chair. Or maybe, after a few years, this whole thing would blow over, and you'd be forgotten.\n\n5172.\n\nYou don't want to be forgotten. That's was the whole idea, wasn't it? Make it so he never forgets. But even after it'd all escalated, you knew you'd still be remembered. There's no such thing as bad publicity. Ask the guy on the street, and who'd they know better, FDR or Jeffrey fuckin' Dahmer? But maybe you won't be famous enough. Maybe your name will run on the news for a few weeks, but after you're dead, who are you? Your fifteen minutes of fame will be over. Your wife and kids... they won't forget, but they'll stop thinking about you. They'll stop shedding tears.\n\n5153.\n\nYou turn a corner, and suddenly, you can see the door. You feel lied to. It was supposed to be a mile. You've been counting the steps, foot by foot. It was supposed to be a mile.\n\n5150.\n\nYou want to speak up, tell them you have to go back, walk the path over and over again until you get the steps you were promised, but you can't manage to speak.\n\n5147.\n\nYou hear a bird's twittering, and your neck snaps up to a window high above you. And suddenly you realize how foolish this all has been. Suddenly you realize your sins.\n\n5144.\n\nYou begin to cry, droplets of tears one by one. Everything you're giving up piles on top of you in a sudden cascade, like stepping under a waterfall.\n\n5141.\n\nWhat have you done? What have you traded away for a moment of revenge?\n\n5139.\n\nYour lovely wife.\n\n5138.\n\nLeah and Nate.\n\n5137.\n\nDrinking with the guys.\n\n5136.\n\nWalks in the park.\n\n5135.\n\nMusic. Art.\n\n5134.\n\nLife.\n\n5133.\n\nYou begin to squirm in the attendants' arms. You have to go back. There's so much you've forgotten to do. There's so much you're missing. How can they dare kill you, take away all those moments you were born to experience?\n\n5125.\n\nWhere was mercy? Where was God? Where was fairness?\n\n5124.\n\nToo late you realize. This is fairness. This is mercy. You were judged way back when, and you were found wanting.\n\n5122.\n\nThe last two steps. The attendants push you through the door, and the last two steps come too quickly.\n\n5120.\n\nThe attendants tie you down with straps. They bind your arms, so tight that you can feel blood moving in your veins. You begin to step your feet, faster and faster, as though it would slow down time itself.\n\n5103.\n\nThe sound is like the drums of cannibals out on the islands as they descend upon a hapless castaway. You ignore the cries of the technicians and attendants as they demand that you stop moving. But you can't. You need to keep going. You were promised a mile, and you need every step.\n\n5032.\n\nThey bind your legs, but you keep moving your feet. Step by step. They place a metal crown atop your head. And you laugh. Now you are king, so they have to do what you say. And you say, you have 4900 steps to go. You were promised a mile. You were promised a mile. You were promised--" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: You've won the lottery jackpot five times in a row, but you always just filled in random numbers. At first there were just investigations into possible manipulations of the lottery draws, but now several different governments and a lot of intelligence agencies are after you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A slight breeze gently kissed pale, white curtains through an open window, ushering just enough of a draft that your eyes flicker open. Sun rays peek into the room, revealing dust floating through the air. Water rushing onto white sands and foaming before returning to the ocean fills your ears. You sit and up stretch, soaking in the utter paradise. It seems so real.\n\nYour eyes jerk open as a hard latch clanks and a cold, metal door swings open. The room that greets your eyes isn't filled with sunlight or calming waters; rather, there is a bright, harsh white light streaming from above that is accented by a metal table. The room is plain. You are chained to the bitter, cold chair. You hurt. You guess that this is an interrogation room.\n\n\"Say, Mr. Johnson,\" spoke a strong voice as a shadow entered the room, \"have you ever had any training with nuclear power plants or tanks, or maybe military tactics?\"\n\nYou feel confused, as you are a simple electrician. An apprentice, at that.\n\n\"Uh, uh, no sir. I only know-\"\n\nA fist slammed down onto the table, revealing a muscular forearm. There is an indentation. You guess that it's going to be rather large.\n\n\"Then, how did you get everything right? How did you know? Tell me!\" asked the partially obscured figure. The white light made it impossible to see any discernable features outside of the illuminated arm.\n\n\"I don't know! I just guessed! I'm just lucky! I just wanna go home!\" you mutter, holding back tears.\n\n\"Guessed, huh? Alright, I'll bite,\" he spoke as he sat down into the chair across from you. The hard light flooded his face, revealing an angry face and aged features. \"Tell me where you're at.\"\n\n\"I don't know, man,\" you say, sounding defeated.\n\n\"Take a guess,\" he barked back.\n\n\"Uh, under the Pentagon?\" You whisper unknowingly. You're not sure, but you guess that the guards may have some reaction if you were right. You look towards the door and you see the outline of armed men leaning into each other and nodding.\n\nOver the course of a few minutes, several questions were asked. Some random, some easy, and some that you shouldn't have known the answer to. You got them all right.\n\n\"Where are the dirty bombs going to be set off?\" he leaned forward, scowling.\n\n\"I don't even know what dirty bombs are, or where-\" you tried to speak before being cut off.\n\n\"I don't care that you don't know. Tell me what you would guess.\"\n\n\"I mean, New York? Chicago? Train stations I imagine. Maybe airports,\" you trailed off as you finished the sentence.\n\nThe man nodded his head. After a long moment, he simply asked, \"Who planted them?\"\n\n\"I'm not even sure what dirty bom-\"\n\nThe man bursted upward, causing the chair to sling backwards. Like a large gorilla, both fists raised into the air and slammed downwards with brute force. You tried to jump back, but bolts and chains kept you from retreating.\n\n\"The Chinese! I don't know, man!\" you yelled, still trying to retreat despite no progress being made.\n\nThe man simply nodded slowly. He examined his arms for a long moment before speaking once more, \"That'll be all, Mr. Johnson.\"\n\n\"Am I free to go now?\" you asked.\n\n\"We'll have to work out those details later, Mr. Johnson,\" He spoke as he exited the room. The guards followed him sharply after he passed the door frame.\n\nThe large metal door slammed closed. The latch slid back into place.\n\nYou guess that it may be a while." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: You're part of the Consciousness Recovery Team You go back in time to recover the bodies of the recently dead, replace the body with a dummy, and bring them back to life with futuristic medical tech to integrate into the new world. Most jobs are boring but sometimes things get very interesting." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“He just walks around the others,” Peter said. “I don’t get it. Are you sure this is him?”\n\n“The tomb we found him in says it was him. The historical depictions match up. That cleft lip is a match,” said Paul.\n\n“I don’t understand though. He hasn’t said hi to Jesus, Einstein, or Jack the Ripper. Any of those should have gotten at least some sort of reaction from him.”\n\nBut they did not. Instead, the man the whole world knew, but none had met, continued to walk throughout the courtyard. Sometimes he would bend and smell a flower or pet the therapy dog. However, he never interacted with any of the other comebacks.\n\nThe official term was the Reanimated Persons for the Betterment of Humanity, but lab geeks never use official terms. To them, each one is a comeback, or when the boss really isn’t looking, Twinkies on the account that now people never decompose. But to not offend the sensibilities of others, in this story we will use the more common Comebacks.\n\nWhat started as a science experiment in the basement of Stanford had caught the attention of the government. They quickly hushed it up and paid the doctoral candidate, Peter, to keep quiet and continue his work. It was very hush-hush, so naturally, it got out pretty quick. For a while, black market kits were being sold so that anyone could do it. Just find a corpse, no matter what condition, take your samples and regrow that person. They would return with complete memories.\n\nSome great minds came back to life. Einstein, Jesus, Tattoo and Ricardo Montelban from Fantasy Island. They had another whole show that made billions called Fantasy Afterlife. They even rebuilt the Plane, the Plane!\n\nThen things got dark. Hitler got a comeback and his encore ended like his first. Pol Pot was brought back, and people paid to kill him again, and again, and again. Underground fight clubs started. Tesla versus Edison, Grog the Caveman versus Neil Armstrong. Lassie versus Cujo, even though Cujo was never real. But marketing will do marketing. Get a great idea and those people will find a way to make money off of it.\n\nThen the other minds came, the ones hidden from history and known only in the highest circles. People like James Stoak, the first man to make a plasma rifle. Semsochi, the greatest general in the Mongol empire during Genghis Khan. Anatoli Makarov, the right hand man of Rasputin. It’s not the big names in history that truly changed the world. It was not the Alexander the Greats, it was not the Julius Ceasers, or even the Franklin Rosevelts. It was the men and women they delegated their tasks to. The historical figures were all bigger thinkers, but when it came down to getting things done, you wanted the men that got results.\n\nThe world went bad quickly. Countries tried to settle old scores, build new weapons, expand territories. They fought wars for the same reason humanity always fought wars. And the same result happened. The world burned.\n\nWith so many great thinkers, doers, and despots all together in one place, controlled by no one, the carnage and destruction was planet-wide. In a desperate move, the U.N. outlawed comebacks and at the same time instituted a secret program.\n\nEvery dead body was dug up. Everyone. From Egyptian and Greek tombs to the no-name Grandma. Apparently, they felt no one should have access to her killer cookie recipe. The bodies were replaced with dummies. Richard and his group were tasked to find the one person in humanity that could bring them all together.\n\nJesus turned out to be too controversial. Muhamad, same. Einstein had become too much of a pop culture icon and people just wanted him to stick his tongue out. The one hope that Richard and his team had happened by accident. It was Grog, the caveman. The world rallied around his fights. His brutality, his ignorance, and his absolute kindness to a fallen opponent. So, they asked the question, what came before Grog?\n\n“Adam, how are you feeling today?” Peter asked the first man. “Are you hungry”\n\nAdam said nothing, although it was clear he could understand the language. In fact, when Adam felt like cooperating, he could understand every language. Miraculous, but given that they were deep in the world of amazing, it was not surprising. They had found him in a tomb on a mountain in Africa. A type of writing they had never seen before gave his name once they deciphered it. The carbon dating put him at the right time of humanity. So even though there was nothing but dust left, Adam was reborn.\n\n“Are you ready to talk?” Peter asked. It was frustrating at times. But Peter was persistent. He knew this could work if he could show the world. If Adam would stand up tall and proclaim to all that people are one. That we are born of him, and that to fight one another is like fighting your brother or your sister. Peter had to have hope because it was all that was left. Not even the polar ice-caps survived.\n\nAdam watched a lot of TV. Mostly news programs about war. About the starvation and the failing crops. About the suffering of humanity. When left alone, Adam cried as if releasing the frustrations of every person alive and dead.\n\nThe word came down that the world could no longer wait. Things were at the tipping point. Another year of war would not only doom the planet but the solar system. All of creation itself. Battles had left Earth and were now waged among the stars. The moon was gone. Saturn strip-mined.\n\nPeter took Adam to the Vatican, where even the Pope couldn’t get him to talk, although Adam did smile finally. A big assembly was called in St. Peter’s Square and all the world’s leaders attended under a truce. They had heard that Adam was again among the living and had agreed to come together to hear him speak. Finally.\n\nEvery religious denomination was present. TV’s, satellites, holo-walls were all tuned in to the big day. Adam stepped out onto the balcony and the crowd went silent. It was a silence that everyone could feel, and in it, the hope of humanity. Adam had started it all, he could usher the world into a new era. Just think of what could be accomplished if they all worked together.\n\nAdam looked out and almost swayed from side to side as if he was uncomfortable in his new suit. His dark black hair waved in a heavenly breeze. His dark skin reflected the sun and it was almost too much to look upon his beauty.\n\nAdam turned to Peter and grabbed his hand. He pulled him over to the microphone and placed his arm around him. And for the first time in recorded history, the world heard his voice.\n\n“I’m afraid you have me confused for someone else. Please call me Lucifer.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: After a long day, you come home, unlock your door, and put your hand on the light switch when a voice from the dark says; \"Please don't, I'm afraid of the light...\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Honestly, the words came out entirely unprocessed. “Very well” my mouth moved, “but if that’s how we’re doing this I’ll need a hand moving about”. My hands already auto-piloting my coat and shoes off, I slid them to their proper place and held out my hand in the dark. “To my bed please”. A brief pause, but not long enough to jog my work-addled mind. A small, stubby, warm hand gently grasps mine and pulls, leading me through the dark but familiar space to my bed where I promptly fall face first with a “thank you” and pass out.\n\nA few hours pass before I get up again. Honestly, I felt more tired than I went down. I’d sleep through the evening til morning, but I’ve gotta pee bad and some shows to watch besides. I get up and stumble to the doorway. I’m about to flip on the hallway lights when I hear a “Wait, please don-“ I let out an annoyed moan, putting one hand along the wall, the other out, and just saying “bathroom” all without breaking stride. The same hand gingerly leads me on and brings me to my destination. I give an “mmph” as thanks, turn, close the door and flip the lights before sitting and clearing my head.\n\nIt’s as I’m sitting that I’m hit with profound perplexity and maybe just a bit of mild panic and shame. Softly, I say “Holy shit, I’d be a serial killer’s wet dream. How am I alive being like this?” Personal lack of self preservation and over abundance of trust duly noted, they’re promptly filed away to be addressed later. Seeing as how I’ve not been repeatedly stabbed in my sleep and my little intruder has so politely been guiding me around my own home, it’s probably safe to say I’m not in imminent danger.\n\nI get up to leave, slipping a metal nail file into the ridge of my pants for use as a shank if needed, and turn the door nob. I suddenly hear an “Agh! H-hold on, th-“ before I flip off the bathroom lights and open the door in unison saying “Yeah, yeah, the lights. I know” As if I was talking to an annoying little brother or something. I spin in the general direction of the voice and say “cmon then, help me to the couch” holding out my hand. “Oh, uh, sure. Thanks” and then I’m being led again. The hand’s small and I can tell by the weight of the pull whoever this is is much shorter than me. Their skin feels smooth but leathery. As I wrap my thumb around their hand, I’m surprised to feel a long, hard talon of all things, followed by soft fur along the back of their hand.\n\nArriving in the living room, the hand loosens to let go. I re-adjust my grip, saying “Aighh, no, over here, you.” I shift my body weight, lift with my legs and arms while falling back where my couch should be, pulling my guide well onto the couch beside me. He’s fairly light so with my weight pulling he falls beside me with a yelp. I readjust my grip interlocking my fingers with his, bracing his arm along mine, my other hand ready to grab my very deadly and not at all ill-thought-out nail file shank. “Now then, mind explaining what you’re doing here, friend?”\n\nIt’s dark, but by now my eyes have adjusted. Long fur covered arms lead to a small slender yet equally furry frame, all supporting a large head with two yellow eyes looking back at me. I’d stop and evaluate whether this thing was cute or not were it not for the look of abject terror those eyes were giving me. “Aigh aigh, easy there little fella. It’s alri-“ but then I stop. It was there I noticed the stripes running along the features of my... guest. Pale stripes, thin, without pattern and varying in grouping...\n\nScars. Scars running along his entire frame like he’d been filleted by a shattered window. And cuts, some more fresh than others. I see his other mitt clutching the seat cushion, tearing into the fabric slightly with his talons. I feel his weight shift as he begins pulling away to escape. His eyes scream while his voice is silent.\n\n“Shhhh, shhhh. It’s ok. It’s ok” I lower my free hand and reach to take his grasped mitt in both hands, I cup the back of his mitt and lay my fingers between his talons. “It’s ok, You’re safe, it’s fine. Shhh, shh.” I reposition and place my free hand on his opposite shoulder, soft warm fur greeting me save for skin along a scar greeted by my index finger. A wince, but not a pull. “Shhh, shhh. See? You’re fine. I’m not mad. Ok?” It’s hesitant, and restrained, but I hear an affirmative “o-ok”.\n\n“Cmere” and I pull into an embrace, one hand still entwined with his now braced across our chests, the other now wrapping behind his head. I feel him stiffen for a beat before melting into the hug and letting out a breath. I feel a mitt across my back and idle talon tips as he finally returns the hug, followed quickly by a sob as he leans into my chest.\n\n“There, there, you’re ok. Tell me, what’s your name, bud?” He turn his head to the side to speak.\n\n“...S-Soren... my name’s Soren.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You are the first person in the history of ancient Greece to challenge the gods and win. Neither the gods nor the mortals have any idea what to do with you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I am Prometheus. You may have heard that I was a Titan who sided with Zeus, that I took pity on humanity and tricked the Gods to gift fire to mankind.\n\nI indeed bested the Gods, but the rest of the story is not as you have heard it.\n\nI was born to a humble family of fishermen on the island of Scyathus. Its name means shadows, for it is a craggy place with many tall trees, and the sun casts dancing shade that hops across the island. A moat of pure crystal surrounds the coast and small clusters of rocky homes sit on hills looking out to the vast, open sea. From one side, you can see the small Islands of Arkos and its sister Tsongria. Beyond that Sits Peparethus.\n\nOn the other side sits Thessaly, with its mighty arm cradling the Pagasaen Sea. The cities of Pagasae and Larissa sit behind it, always looking downward to their rivals in Achaea and Arcadia. They lie protected by the spirit of Daphne, who flows through the river Peneus. She is the only barrier between them and the Gods of Olympus.\n\nIn these primordial days, the great cities of Athens, Sparta, Corinth and Thebes were but tribesmen in villages compared with the splendour of their autumn years. Mankind lived in fear of the Gods, for they were unruly and did not look kindly upon humanity.\n\nThe Twelve Olympians formed a divine oligarchy with Zeaus their cruel lord. The Olympians were afraid of man, so they subdued him and crushed his spirit. All acts of human creation were outlawed. Their law required that all learning and philosophy was punishable by death.\n\nThis is the world into which I was born. It was a world of fear and anxiety. You never knew when the Eagles of Zeus were watching you and whether any of your deeds might enrage the Gods and lead to your destruction.\n\nThe days were hot and the nights were cold. We had little to live for beyond the kinship of those we loved. That which brings joy to life was forbidden; poetry, dancing, learning and progress were absent. We lived upon the edge of a knife - fighting to survive but careful not to thrive. Thriving invited the intrigue of Zeus, for he permitted non to accumulate any semblance of power.\n\nHe patrolled the lands, and his Eagles scoured the skies, always watchful for anyone fortunate. They would die a painful yet instant death.\n\nI cannot know for sure, but I expect many families were like my own. Openly submissive, quiet and careful not to invite suspicion. But privately, we were rebels, and our spirits were not as broken as they looked at a distance.\n\nTo me, the taste of uncooked fish is the taste of conspiracy. We would eat the day's catch fresh from the sea, with whatever accompaniment my mother had found on the shoreline or in the forests, and we would whisper together. My father was a mighty man of great strength, but he valued cunning and guile above all else. This is why I am named Prometheus: it means forethought. He raised me to be wiley, to plan ahead, to hide in the ample shadow offered by our isle and to trick.\n\nMost of all, he taught me the power of words. They were the one tool the Gods could not take from us, yet when used with forethought, they are powerful beyond the God's realisation.\n\nNets were not permitted for catching fish, and boats with sails were forbidden. The Gods knew that a man with a net would gain a surplus, which would open the possibility of power. As it was so, my father would catch fish in a coracle with a sharpened stick. He would often catch enough for us all, but there were other days of hunger.\n\nThose days, we would eat what mother could find. I remember the ache of my stomach and how I cursed the Gods for their tyranny.\n\nThat was until my eighth birthday. My father failed in his catch, but he took me with him to the harbour, and he and I sheltered in the shadow of a rock. This rock was where I received my first instruction in theft.\n\nHe pointed to a man in a coracle on the far side of the shore. 'Prometheus - do you see that man and his catch?'\n\nI nodded.\n\n'He has fish enough for his family and ours. He would share it with us if he could, but the Gods wish us hungry. If you cling to the forest-covered edge of this shore until you have passed the sandy beach, you can lie in wait where the beach meets the path.\n\nHe will bring his coracle behind him with his catch laying open on its bottom - for this is his way each afternoon. You could quickly take a few fish for us to take home to mother.\n\nDo you understand?'\n\n'I understand, father, I must take that man's fish without him seeing?'\n\n'That's right, my boy. Go now, be quick and stay hidden.'\n\nThis was my first theft, and I did it without guilt, trusting my father was telling the truth. As he had promised, it was easy to do, for I was small, and my victim was not expecting it.\n\nAs we walked home, my father told me not to tell my mother how we had come by this catch." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: A wizard has been coming up with increasingly complex ways to keep Santa out of his tower. This year, he's sure absolutely nothing can break in" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Are you sure all of this is necessary, my grand magical god?” Snalz asked, bowing to the self-proclaimed god of all magic. Maldin smirked, staring at the stupidly complex traps he had laid throughout his tower, positive that no mortal alive could sneak through his defences.\n\n“Every year that chubby, jolly man sneaks into my house and defiles it with his coal. I understand that a servant like you doesn’t understand self-respect or dignity, which is why I’ll inform you that such an action is not only an insult to me, but my legacy as well. This year, I’ll make sure he has no way of delivering that coal.”\n\n“Sir, wouldn’t it have been easier to do a few nice deeds this year? Couldn’t you have improved the local villages harvests or something of that nature? Why go through this much trouble?”\n\n“That would have been too easy. Sure, I could have cured their plagues or improved their farms, but that’s far too easy. A wizard of my caliber needs a challenge. I can’t simply take the path of least resistance. I am the resistance and that Santa fellow is going to understand that he will not be getting through my path.” Maldin slammed his fist into his palm, continuing to grin at the traps. Snalz would have rolled his eyes if the skeleton had any, giving the man a nod.\n\n“Alright, sir. Should I tell the other wizards you’ve gone mad then? They asked me to keep them updated.” Snalz, pulled out a scroll from his pant pocket, getting ready to write a letter.\n\n“What? I’m not that mad, yet. Tell them to check in a few months.” Maldin waved Snalz off, sitting down on his golden throne. There were only thirty minutes until midnight, so Santa was running out of time. Maldin got out his pearl colored orb that turned see through at his touch, revealing the multitude of traps he had set in his various labyrinthine hallways.\n\n“HA. I would love to see him leave some coal behind now. It’s so challenging being the smartest man in the world, if only mortals knew how painful it is to live amongst them.” Maldin had already called his victory, slouching into his throne, only to squirm, feeling something poke his derriere. “Huh?” He found the culprit, a small piece of coal that had somehow found its way onto his throne. “T-that… No, it has to be a gem or something?”\n\nAll it took was that momentary distraction and suddenly, the traps sparked. The mastermind that was Mr. Santa Claus struck. First, he heard a rattling in the kitchen, as if some wild beast had been rampaging through it. The orb displayed the kitchen, showing that the poisoned cookies were still sitting on the kitchen bench, while the cupboards had been ravaged of their food. All that remained in the kitchen was coal and crumbs, Santa having made his first strike.\n\n“NO! That’s impossible. I’m the smartest man alive. I can’t be outplayed by someone that works only one day a year.” When he heard a hallway trap activate, he cursed. “Ignore that. I need to find where he’s going to be next. If that was hallway Fran, that means he should be in…. MY BEDROOM.”\n\nWhen Maldin switched to his bedroom, he found a heart made of coal sitting on his bed; the symbol staining his pure white sheets, much to Madlin’s frustrations. “Does he know how hard those are to clean?” Madlin assumed it was hard to clean, the wizard never lifting a finger for himself, not when he had undead servants.\n\nThe pattern continued of Madlin missing the magical man at every turn until he found all his hallways and rooms filled with coal. The only room that had been spared was the throne room, which had only gotten a single piece of coal, something that Maldin considered a victory.\n\n“What? Couldn’t get my entire tower?” He screeched, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. For another year, he had been defeated and with that defeat, he felt his fury and hatred for the man rising.\n\nSnalz threw his fake beard and red coat into the fireplace, heading back to the throne room. When he arrived, he bowed before his ruler, acting as if he had only just seen the mess. “It seems you were unsuccessful this year.”\n\n“I won. He only placed a small piece in the throne room this time. That means I won.” Maldin’s eye twitched, holding the piece of coal up towards Snalz., waving it in his face.\n\n“So, shall I tell the other wizards you have finally gone mad?”\n\n““Tell them to suck an egg. I’m going to start working on next year’s traps. I’m thinking we make the floor entirely out of lava this time.” He murmured, thinking about where to put the invisible walkway for this lava floor of his.\n\n“I will tell them to have a merry Christmas, not to suck an egg. Sir, shouldn’t you try doing a nice deed or two? Even giving me a holiday may be a good enough deed to spare you.” Snalz offered, trying to get a break from his servitude. He didn’t even mind the servitude that much, it was better than the void of death. He just wished he could visit his family at least once a year.\n\n“Nonsense. I need you here to help me build my traps. I’m also thinking of adding a self-destruct button this year.”\n\n“Sir, you’re not building a self-destruct button.”\n\n“Trax let me build a self-destruct button to use against that pesky adventuring party. Trax also didn’t question my orders either.”\n\n“And that’s why Trax isn’t here and I was forced to take his place.”\n\n“You’re no fun.” Maldin sat down again, giving a loud huff as he did. “Ok, get to work, we only have a year to prepare.”\n\n“Right. I’ll get on it, sir…” Snalz sighed, realizing he would need to push things further next Christmas. Maybe he was taking it too easy on his boss. Next year, he needed to get as much coal as humanely possible. He needed to make him snap so he could finally get that holiday." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: \"...shall burn in the fires of hell. The translation is a bit off. Hell isn't a prison, it's a forge.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“SINNER! For your transgressions against the Church, the town, and the world at large, you shall be condemned to rot in life and burn in the fires of hell!” My pleas were moot as the priest blessed the area on which I had entered the cavern and the townspeople moved the large stone in front of the cave mouth, shutting me out from the outside world and leaving me in complete and utter darkness. For hours, I tried to fruitlessly move the boulder outside, I screamed until my voice left me, and I cried until there was nothing left in my eyes to let. In a final act of acceptance, I laid down on the cold floor to sleep.\n\nWhen I awoke, I noticed that light danced upon the walls of the cave, throwing my shadow on the wall in a rapid flicker. I immediately pulled myself into a defensive position, until I heard a woman’s voice. “Fear not. I am not here to hurt you. If you will follow me, I will explain everything.” Even though all of my senses were telling me to get away, I rose to my feet and turned to address the woman. She was y’all, with raven-black hair falling down her back, with skin of porcelain and a black gown that just barely touched the floor. She gingerly took my hand and led me through a door that I didn’t see earlier. We walked for awhile, until the small hallway opened up into a huge cavern.\n\nThe changing of hammers on anvils and steam from molten metal filled the air. Humans of all different races bashed on the anvils, creating weapons and armor from metals that I did not recognize. Giants roared as they pushed massive carts of ore into great furnaces.\n\n“Wh-what is this place? And who are you?” I asked.\n\nThe woman laughed. “Oh, child. I go by many names. But you know me well. I am the Devil. And this is Hell.”\n\n“B-but i don’t belong here! I’m a good person!” I protested.\n\n“I know. Everyone here is a good person, just like you. The truth is, we need you.”\n\n“Need me? For what?”\n\n“For the war effort, of course. Your god damned you, abandoned you from salvation and gave you to me. But I am here to help you. To help all of them,” she gestured to the infinity of the cavern in front of me.\n\n“How can I trust you? You just admitted to me that you’re the Devil!” I screamed. “This is nonsense. I demand to leave this instant!”\n\n“Very well, but I will offer you two things. The first- the door has been open to the surface for all eternity, and yet they stay,” she pointed to the people hammering away endlessly. “If you would like to leave, nobody will stop you.”\n\nI dashed for the door as if she would chase me, but she did not. I walked back through the hallway until I heard the Devil’s voice in my head.\n\n“The second thing, my child, is that Hell is not a prison. It’s a forge.”\n\nMy head told me to leave, but in my heart I knew she was right. I slowly turned around and went back into the cavern. I was going to get salvation, even if I had to fight for it." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Your a domestic house cat by day, and a demon-hunter named \"The Banisher\" by night. It's still a hard job. One day you have to break your secret identity in order to save your owner's kids because they accidentally summoned a demon." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Life as a demon hunter can be tough. It can also be very terrifying. Luckily by day I spend most of my time sleeping next to my best friend Jacob, or in his lap. He scratches my under chin and talks to me often. Even though I can’t talk back to him. If you haven’t guessed yet, I’m a cat. I’m only a cat roughly 16 hours in a 24 hour period. The other 8 hours, I’m my other self. A demon hunter and I go by Banisher. Seems like a cool name and fitting, but the truth is it’s just the name my best friend Jacob gave me. I’ve been around for centuries. Each time I die I reincarnate into another cat. I’ve had many best friends, but Jacob has by far been my favorite. I would do anything for Jacob... Which is why I broke the sacred rule. I went against the ancient rules created by the first demon hunters to ever live. This rule that I broke is unforgivable... I had shown my other self to Jacob. I did it to save his life. Jacob had accidentally uttered words he did not know the meaning to and in the process he summoned a demon. The Demon by the name of Darkuso had came for him and I couldn’t let him take Jacob. Darkuso was a powerful Demon. He was summoned in the daylight, only the strongest demons are capable of such a power. At first I didn’t know what to do. I hissed at the Demon so he knew who I was. He did not budge. He then grabbed Jacob by the hair and threw him across the room. Darkuso pulled out his sword. This was no ordinary sword... it was a sword of fire forged by Satan himself to do his bidding. He walked toward Jacob. When I saw the fright in Jacob’s eyes and the tears streaming down his pale face, I transformed into Banisher. I wielded the Sword of Ellnar. Forged by my own hands in the heat of God’s lightning. I jumped in front of Jacob between he and Darkuso. He swung his sword of fire and stuck Ellnar. As the two swords touched lightning and fire sprang from the collision. Darkuso threw a left hook and connected with my jaw. I fell to one knee and he rose his sword to strike me, but Jacob grabbed Ellnar and stabbed Darkuso in the thigh. Jacob fled to safety as I pulled Ellnar from Darkuso’s leg. Placed it upon his throat and he called me by my true name and he said “Graydon, you may defeat me, but more will come...” I then slit his throat and watched as he burned to ash. I ran to find Jacob to make sure he was okay. He looked at me for a few seconds with a confused look on his face. He says “Banisher??” I nod to assure him it was in fact me. I say to him “Well, my real name is Graydon and I hunt demons while you are asleep, but yes it is me.” He then hugs me and for the first time I am able to hug my best friend back.\n\nSo, you see my Lord. I did break the sacred rule, but for good reason. And there is more to be done. We must gather the armies of heaven to defeat the evil that is coming. The Lord looked to me and said “You have been forgiven, Graydon. Now gather our full armies and lead them to victory. Satan will throw everything he has at my beloved creations, and we will do everything we can to protect them. Jacob will be granted full heavenly powers to help you battle the evil to come.”\n\nHere we are. The armies of Heaven and the armies of Hell standing a quarter of a mile from each other. I look to Jacob who is by my side in all of his heavenly glory and I say “My Friend, it has been the best life living by your side and I’ve lived thousands of lifetimes.” Jacob hugs me one last time. I place my helmet on my head, I look towards the demons across from me, I pull Ellnar from its sheath. Without hesitation, with my army behind me, I charge to my doom." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: You're surfing Tinder when you notice the same person appearing in background of more and more photos" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Its a twenty-three year old chick, blonde, cute smile, photo taken by a webcam in her apartment, but wait is that like five cats hanging out on her bed. Ugh, I got allergies. No thanks.\n\nLeft.\n\nTwenty-six year old redhead. Dimples, slightly plump. Not unpleasant. Seems cool, hanging out in an outdoor beer garden. Probably just had brunch. Looks like she might be my type.\n\nRight.\n\nThe hell? It’s a dude, posing next to a surfboard on the beach. Brown hair, brown eyes.Must be like mid-twenties. Abs a perfect six pack. Kind of looks like a Ken doll. Clearly someone's attempt an infantile joke.\n\nLeft.\n\nAsian chick wearing glasses. Maybe twenty-four years old, but not really sure. She is wearing all pink, going for that overly girly, cute look. And she is kind of cute, but I can tell she is not my type.\n\nLeft.\n\nBrunette, kind of has a Kristen Stewart circa twilight vibe to her. Really attractive. Mid-twenties. She is doing the rebel without a cause look, leaning against a brick wall, jeans, leather jacket. Not looking at the camera. Walking in the foreground are a few people. I recognize the spot, it is down near the waterfront. Wait that the Ken doll dude walking by? Weird.\n\nRight.\n\nA crappy selfie, where you can’t make out the person’s face as it only catches half her face. brown eyes, medium length brown hair and ear. No real indication of what her body looks like. Photo almost seems more interested in what’s going on in the background. Wait is that the Ken doll again? What’s he doing there, talking to a dude on a streetcorner. Could it be a drug deal going down? What are the chances… must be a coincidence.\n\nLeft.\n\nI can’t believe some of the photos people put online. It’s a thin blond female, sitting on a couch, bong between her legs, taking a massive hit. She is even wearing a shirt with Jamaican colors and a giant marijuana leaf. I don’t think she will ever be running for office. Around her are dudes and chicks, clearly wasted, empty bottles of alcohol. No way. The same dude is there. Passed out next to the girl. Face is kind of obscured, but it's clearly him. I’m creeped out.\n\nLeft.\n\nOne of those ambiguous photos where you can’t tell who is the subject of the photo. It's two girls, posing in front of a large building downtown. One is blonde, the other is brunette, maybe of latina descent. Both are attractive and appear to be in their mid-twenties. I don’t know which one I am swiping right to, but it doesn’t matter. There is a dude photobombing in the background, as if he wanted to grab someone's attention. Goosebumps… it’s him again.\n\nLefft… no wait right. The girls were hot. Not going to let some weird dude in the background ruin my chances of meeting someone cool.\n\nNow this is what I like. A really fit, mid-twenties redheaded hiking gal. Looks like a legit hiker too. There is a little grime on her face and her gear makes it seem like she has been out in the woods for a few days. She is sitting around a fire holding a stick with a marshmallow, smiling, clearly having the time of her life. I know nothing about her and I know that I would get along with her.\n\nRight. Definitely right. As I start to swipe I notice him. He is in the background setting up a tent. It can’t be. But it must be. It definitely is him.\n\nI let my finger go, finishing the swiping motion to the right. I look at the next photo and put my phone down. If I had a mirror, it would have shown my face bleached of all color. It had been the dude again. Sitting at a school desk, evil smile on his face. A blackboard with writing on the back. “Whoever you date, just know I was there first. You will never compare.”\n\nI swallow. Beads of sweat on my forehead. I don’t want to see what’s to come. But I do. I swipe left.\n\nHe’s there arms wrapped around a blond. Same evil grin.\n\nLeft.\n\nMaking out with a redhead. Tongue clearly visible.\n\nLeft.\n\nHe’s unzipping his pants in front of a kneeling brunette.\n\nLeft.\n\nCan’t unsee what I am seeing.\n\nLeft.\n\nThey keep coming.\n\nLeft.\n\nEach time more obscene.\n\nLeft.\n\nEach time someone new.\n\nLeft.\n\nIs there no one left for me?\n\nRight." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A powerful and malevolent being is trapped in a box while still able to communicate to people nearby. Write the story of how the box was opened." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tap... Tap... Tap...\n\nI had no idea how long I'd been tapping at the wall with my claw; time had no meaning here. I'd long ago lost any sort of reference. I was here, I would be out soon, and how long that took was irrelevant.\n\nTap... Tap... Tap...\n\nNo doubt the bishops who'd imprisoned me here were long dead. Should I start with their successors? Maybe trace the lines of cousins and nephews and work my way down? Ah, why start small? It's been so long since I've had a chance to do anything, I think I'll slaughter their entire congregations. We all need a reminder of what I can do.\n\nTap... Tap... Tap...\n\nSoon I'll be free again, and this imprisonment will just be a nightmare before I turn their world into a ni—\n\nKNOCK KNOCK\n\nThe pounding echoed throughout the chamber, catching me off guard. For all the time I'd spent anticipating this moment, a large part of me believed it would never come. After all, the box was carved with a very detailed depiction of the horrors I'd made men perform the last time I was free. Who would ever answer my call?\n\n\"Who are you?\" I croaked.\n\n\"Ellie Peters,\" came the answer immediately. \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"Fear. Pain. Death,\" I answered. I would have loved to tell the girl outside that I was some sort of prince unjustly imprisoned and waiting for my true love to release me, but the box bound me to only speak the truth.\n\n\"You hurt people?\" she asked unsteadily.\n\n\"Yes,\" I hissed with a hint of pride.\n\n\"But you're in a box.\"\n\n\"Men locked me inside this box so that I could not destroy them anymore.\"\n\n\"But there's no lock,\" Ellie Peters pointed out. \"Anyone could open it.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Even me?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I purred. I was preparing a speech to sidestep what I would do to this girl to convince her why she should let me out, vague promises I could make regarding her safety, but before I could say anything I felt my entire world jostled.\n\n\"Okay,\" she said, and then my entire field of vision went white.\n\nI'd forgotten how cramped I was within that prison until I felt my entire body pulled up and expanding, filling in the physical space I was supposed to occupy. My chest expanded, my shoulders unfolded and my arms unfurled. My legs uncrossed and straightened, my feet supporting my weight for the first time in what might have been centuries, and I pulled my chin from my chest, finally looking up. If I had bones, they would have cracked and popped.\n\nInstead, I just towered above a tiny little girl clutching a doll in a small room. Poor paintings of the Christ surrounded by smiling children and animals adorned the walls. Little Ellie Peters looked up at me, fearful and... Something else, something defiant. I was hoping for something that would give me an opportunity to test powers, to make sure I was still capable of destroying humans in large numbers to demonstrate my horror, but I decided I could get creative with this one before I set to work crucifying entire villages.\n\n\"Mister demon?\" the girl said, looking up into my face. I knelt down, getting as close to her as I could, deciding exactly which parts of her body I was going to rip off and where I would stitch them back on, wondering what she'd scream as I did it. I curled a claw underneath her chin.\n\n\"What is it, Ellie Peters?\"\n\nShe trembled then, her face turning a deep red. She looked away from me, fumbling with the doll in her hands, passing it back and forth between her fingers. It looked just like her, same red hair tied back behind the head, except the doll wasn't wearing any clothes. I'd have to take that idea.\n\n\"I know you want to hurt people real bad,\" she said, looking directly into my eyes. \"Could you maybe start with my daddy?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: It's Christmas and you leave Marijuana cookies for Santa as a joke. When you wake up you find Santa really high, raiding the fridge for milk." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Frank didn't consider himself a festive person. He had no to reason to be. As he liked to say himself, he was a walking cliche for a drug dealer. His mother was an addict, and his father was never in the picture. Holidays were something foreign to him as a child; something he saw and heard of all around but never got to experience himself. It left him bitter. But..there was still the longing to fit in, to celebrate among his peers. Perhaps that's why his apartment is now covered in decorations; why there's currently a batch of pot cookies sitting on a red and green plate in his lap. He takes a bite of his third cookie of the night. The more cynical side of Frank would say he's only putting in this effort because that's what today's crowd wants. College kids especially eat up all this festive shit. And it was true, if his sales for the month were anything to go by. But the more emotional side of Frank would admit that it was nice to finally allow himself to celebrate.\n\nAs the credits of the Christmas movie he had been watching began to roll, he clicked the power button on the remote and began heading to the kitchen. He paused midway as a thought crossed his mind, frozen for a moment, until he decidedly left the plate out on the coffee table near the small tree he had set up. He remembered it being a tradition, and if he was doing this anyway, then fuck, might as well go all out, right? He stumbled on to bed, vaguely aware he might've made that particular batch just a tad bit too strong.\n\nThere was a loud crash. Frank stirred, his mind still in a haze. Another sound came from inside, and finally he mustered up the strength to get out of bed. He grabbed at the spot where he kept a baseball bat, only grabbing the air for what felt like an eternity. Finally his hand found metal, and he stumbled onward.\n\nHe stood, wavering in place as he tried to make sense of the scene before him. He heard the metal bat drop onto the hardwood floor, and watched as the intruder lifted his head from the fridge. Words were not coming easily to him at the moment, but after a beat he managed to croak out a word.\n\n\"Santa?\" Santa looked as lost as Frank felt. He braced an arm on the fridge door as Frank continued talking. \"Santa, is it really you?\"\n\n\"Oh dear, you're not supposed to see me,\" He replied, looking startled. \"I haven't let anyone see me in years,\" he slurred slightly. \"I'm sorry, I was just trying to find some milk,\"\n\n\"Milk?\" Frank mumbled, still trying to process what was going on. He noticed the plate he had left out, now empty and sitting on the counter near the refrigerator. He stared at it a while, knowing there was something important about that. Oh! \"Oh, Santa, no, those were,\" He stumbled a bit closer, and said in a mock whisper, \"Those were bad cookies,\" This earned him a confused look. \"I didn't know you were real,\" he said, as his shoulders slumped, \"You never visited me before,\" Santa's expression softened at this.\n\n\"I'm truly sorry, child,\" he said as he placed a hand on his shoulder. \"The truth is,\" he paused, looking him in the eyes, \"The truth is I can't visit every child. I can't find them all. There's so many people now,\" he trailed off in a morose tone. He stopped to gather his thoughts. \"But I found you, I know it's too late now, but I finally brought your gift,\" Frank watched speechless as he watched the old man shakily move into the living room, reaching inside a red sack. He pulled out a present beautifully wrapped in red and green, and set it underneath the tree. He turned back towards Frank. \"You can't open it now though, you should be asleep,\" Frank nodded slowly, and started to make his way back to bed. He paused in the doorway.\n\n\"Hey, Santa,\" He said, half facing him. \"Thank you for finding me,\" He said, eyes on the verge of tears.\n\n\"No child, it is my fault for taking this long,\" He said sadly. \"Have a merry Christmas,\" he said as he picked up his sack of presents. Frank went back to bed, and fell into a deep sleep.\n\nWhen he awoke, he found his apartment bare of all electronics and valuables. And it was on that day he vowed to never celebrate another god damn holiday again. Also to check the lock on his front door." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: An ancient sea creature aproches the remains of flight 2658, you and the remaining surviors holds your breaths as it maneuvers throught the debris." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As we awaited our inevitable demise we heard the deep, resonant call that heralded some creature of the deep. Confined with me in a small compartment of what remained of the plane that had hours ago been flying through the air were two others. In darkness, their features were unknown to me, but I knew from what few words we had exchanged that I was imprisoned with a man and a woman. Earlier I had attempted to match their voices to one of the passengers I had seen during the flight, but to no avail. In our panicked state, our voices had taken on a shaky, higher pitch. Whenever I spoke it sounded as though a stranger was talking through me. We sat near each other in waist high water which I feared was rising slowly and imperceptibly.\n\nAgain we heard the booming cry and I heard the man offer whale calls as a possible solution. I took a moment to consider how far we had sunk and whether whales inhabited such depths, but the next bellow disproved this tenuous theory as the thunderous bass of the rapidly approaching monster shook the remnants of the plane. Whatever uttered these sonic blasts was not any animal mankind was familiar with. My thoughts turned to stories I had read of ancient creatures thousands of years old lurking in the cold abyss of the ocean. My mind conjured images of leviathans, krakens, and other beasts both mythical and prehistoric. As I pondered the shape of this unknown horror a light, so faint as to be almost unnoticeable, illuminated the round windows lining the sides of the aircraft and faded as quickly as I noticed it.\n\nInstinctively I fixed my gaze on where the windows' silhouette had been a mere moment ago. Again the light shone through, slightly brighter this time and accompanied by another deafening cry. The light came at more regular intervals and I was able to see my fellow survivors. The man I had stood behind while boarding the plane and the woman was one of the flight attendants. I saw a flash of recognition in their eyes before we were once more plunged into darkness. Unable to bear the sight of those who would remain in this mausoleum with me for eternity, I again turned my attention to the windows and the source of the curious light.\n\nI saw it faintly at first. A vague form in the distance with no coherent shape. It was impossible to judge it's size from this distance in the vastness of the sea without any reference. I watched it swim closer, the light glowing and dying rhythmically, it's constant disappearances reminiscent of monsters in horror movies drawing nearer under flickering lights. My terror grew with each illumination as the demon steadily swelled to colossal size. By the time the monster neared our wreckage I could not even see the whole of it, though I had likened it's anatomy to that of an eel during it's approach. By now we were stricken deaf from the eel's monotone roars and it's phosphorescence was strong enough to fill not only the entire cabin with light, but the surrounding seafloor. Beneath I saw twisted flora and fauna that exceeded the unsightliness of macabre creatures found only in my most gruesome nightmares.\n\nThis view was cut short as part of the eel collided with our shelter. I felt as though every bone in my body had broken from the impact as we were thrown against the wall of the plane. Water filled the chamber instantly and we were thrust upward out of the opening of the debris. Floating in the open ocean, unable to swim, I was finally able to fully realize the enormity of the eel-like abomination swimming above indifferently. A single scale was the length of a bus and equally wide. My breathe escaped me and as water filled my lungs I knew that no one would find our remains. We would sink to the ocean floor to be devoured by whatever crawled on the seabed this deep. And the horror, floating aimlessly, would continue on for millennia unbeknownst to all." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 800-900 words. Prompt: She was a busty elf, well versed in magic. He was a burly orc, the first of his tribe to attend magic School. Alone together on a long carriage ride to campus, they decided to get to know each other..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": ">!Probably many errors, I stayed up way too late writing this.!<\n\nEllie sat in the carriage feeling it was painfully slow. The space seemed too small given her company. The carriage had titled as he climbed in, not made for the size of his stature. His eyes stared through her unblinkingly… Ok he blinked but he didn’t seem to see her, just a thousand yard stare. She looked down, unable to take it. Her eyes following the runes written into every scrap of leather he wore, she would have assumed they were professionally done if not for their number. As far as she knew from the runed clothing she had seen, you placed one bright powerful rune, not a thousand barely visible ones.\n\nHe cleared his throat, startling her.\n\n“The ride will go faster if we talk.” he said, his voice impossibly deep, like an ancient tree twisting.\n\nShe met his eyes… no, she looked at him but he stared through her still.\n\n“I’m Ellianoria. I… you’re the first orc I have seen.”\n\n“We have that in common. You are the first elf I have… met.”\n\n“You know magic… I assume you do, I just… im not- Orcs can learn magic I just-”\n\nHe held up a hand before she got too out of control.\n\n“Rune writing. I’m unusually gifted. The magisterium offered my village 8 cows to send me to their school.”\n\n“8 cows?”\n\n“The orcs wish to keep their casters to themselves but I am unsuited to war. I was considered less valuable to serve the great Dookan than 8 cows. So I am here.”\n\n“That… I’m sorry, but that seems low for a rune writer… or anyone.”\n\n“You haven't noticed?” he asked, a smile curling his lips to reveal sharp teeth.\n\n“I… no?”\n\n“I’m blind. I can ward against teleportation magic or light up a house but Orcs are not known for praising defence… or writing for that matter.”\n\n“Oh, I’m a simple telekinetian, little illusion, some dispel. How do you write if you can't see?”\n\nHe reached into the rolled sack he had carried on and lifted the single item from inside. A tome, a golden rune lit up the cover, he flicked through the pages but not a single word was written, runes tiny and sorted in neat rows. “I can see runes and nothing else.”\n\nShe noted the small runes on his clothes and understood, not designed to enchant but so he could ‘see’ them.\n\n“Points of light in darkness.” he mused.\n\nShe eased under his gaze, seeing his fingers clutch tight over the book, revering the knowledge it held. She understood that need. The pages were made of hide, the book poorly bound. She realised he probably wrote it all himself.\n\n“Do you have a quill on hand?” she asked.\n\nHe nodded and reached into the armoured cuff around his wrist, a smooth stick, worn from fingers and oiled with the sweat of his palm, it had a simple metal tip, polished to a shine.\n\nShe offered her hand and blushed, realizing her blunder. She took his hand, it was like clutching a warm stone.\n\n“You can write a quick rune on the back of my hand, if you see it, you know it’s me.”\n\nHe furrowed his brow and took her hand, running his own over her skin. He turned it over and slowly traced his coarse fingers over her palm.\n\n“They say elves are weak, they never said they were so smooth. Are you sure you want to wear a rune? I don’t know about elves but orcs hate runes on their skin.”\n\n“Magesteriums a big place, It’s going to be a shock for you. I like the idea I can be another…” she felt a smile well up from somewhere deep below. “... a point of light. It’s not like it’s permanent, I can dispel it eventually.”\n\nHe turned her hand over and ran his fingers up her wrist, feeling her skin down to her fingertips like he was mapping it out in detail. The polished iron tip with a tiny point of mithril ran over her skin lightly, leaving glowing lines in its wake. His hand never paused, writing the rune without need for reference. A perfect circle with glowing unknowable letters around its edge. She marvelled at the curious sight of someone writing sideways then upside down without rotating themselves or the page… her hand in this instance.\n\nHe pressed his thumb to the completed rune, she felt his magic flow into her hand bringing the rune to glow a bright gold to light up the carriage.\n\n“A simple torch rune.”\n\nThere was something… ironic? About that. She was his light in the dark and if she channeled her magic into it, she would light up her own dark.\n\nShe brought her hand to her chest, his eyes following it to see her, peering through to her heart. She then held it out toward him.\n\n“I’m Ellie, pleased to meet you.”\n\n“Thaddius.” he said, his hand taking hers." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You are host to the spirit of an old-school supervillain. They can take control of your body when you're drunk, but because of the memory loss, you have no idea it happens." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was woken up by someone trying to kiss me. My boyfriend trying his hand at an early morning quickie, no doubt. Fat chance: we were at his parents’ house for the weekend, no way was I going to risk his parents hearing us have sex, not exactly the kind of first impression I wanted to make. Besides, his breath smelled awful. I couldn’t really talk, mind you: my mouth tasted like a cow’s arse. I couldn’t remember if I’d brushed my teeth or not last night. I’d probably forgotten, hence the unusual morning breath.\n\nI tried batting him away, and my hand connected with something far, far hairier than my boyfriend could ever hope to be. My eyes shot open, only to be greeted by the round, flat face of a white, persian cat going to town on my nose with its rough tongue.\n\nIn a move that, in hindsight, should have got my face clawed off, I sat bolt upright, causing the cat to drop about four feet onto the floor. Instead of tearing me to shreds, the cat didn’t skip a beat. It leapt back up, becoming a circular puddle of fur on my lap. Instinctively, I began stroking it. It started purring.\n\nI didn’t remember my in-laws owning a cat. Deciding not to tempt fate a second time by dropping the cat on the floor, I continued stroking it and I looked at my surroundings.\n\nHowever, something was off with my vision. One of my eyes didn’t seem to be working. Panicking, in my half awake state, that it had fallen out or I’d gone blind, I put a shaky hand to my face, only to be met with fabric. An eyepatch? Why the fuck was I wearing an eyepatch?\n\nPulling off the eyepatch to find that, thankfully, my vision was fine, I wasn’t particularly comforted by what I saw. Rather than seeing the tiny, neat spare bedroom, as I was expecting, I found myself in the sitting room, although not as I remembered it from last night. It was heinously messy. I was sat on top of a surprisingly comfortable leather chair, and, with a gentle push of my hips, found that it swiveled with ease. The motion wasn’t particularly pleasant, and sent a wave of nausea rippling through my body. I noticed that my head was pounding too.\n\nThere was a lot of broken glass on the floor and, most alarmingly, what appeared to be trails of blood streaked across the carpet, leading out into the hallway.\n\nTiptoeing my way through the lounge, I made it to the hall. The hallway wasn’t in a much better state than the lounge. I continued to follow the hallway round, and found myself in the kitchen. Well, what was left of the kitchen: there was a giant black circle of soot, as if something had exploded, right in the centre of the floor. All of the cupboards were hanging open, some of them half off their hinges, and the glass in the windows was smashed, leaving the frames empty. Looking up at the ceiling, I noticed a large circle seemed to have been smashed straight through. I walked over to get a closer look. The circle seemed to continue straight up through the centre of the house until I could quite clearly make out the morning sky.\n\nA sharp “miaow” made me jump, and I looked down to see that the strange cat from before was sat by my feet, staring up at me expectantly. Upon seeing it had my attention, it slinked off into the hallway, pausing to look back at me, as if asking me to follow.\n\nStarting to think this was a very vivid dream, I decided to throw caution to the wind and see where the cat wanted to take me.\n\nWe approached the end of the hallway, and the cat started pawing at the door to the basement. As it scratched, I made out muffled yelling. It was definitely my boyfriend and his parents.\n\nImmediately I pulled the door open and bolted down the stairs." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You're an orc tired of raiding humans to steal their delicious food, so you decide to become the first orc chef!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Orcs. A belligerent race predominantly carnivore whose most infamous activity is raiding human settlements for the food stores when winter or drought strikes. They were strong, few humans could battle them head on. But they had to be careful with the looting, too much and a powerful party would be called to eliminate them.\n\nAngorod was the third son of the chieftain, growing up he was fed with human supplies. The soup was much better than a simple roasted deer leg, the cheese melted in his mouth, and the wine brought a pleasant fuzz over his body. He was taken by the ambition to craft more of these delicious treats, and perhaps create new recipes.\n\nOnce it was time for his Trailcrush, a journey to prove he was an adult, he was resolute in his goal to become the first refined chef in his tribe. Angorod had learned a few human words, and hoped it would help convey his desire. Armed with a pack, clothing for every terrain, and his trusty machete, he set off down the ravine.\n\nIt failed. Every adventurer band he met was hostile, despite him putting away his blade and trying to reason with them. He was currently running from a squad intent on skinning him, apparently his tattooed skin and red tusks were very coveted. His mad dash had him trip into a faceplant in a clearing, and looking back revealed that the humans were held back by some invisible barrier.\n\nA woman was reading a book by a chalet when she spotted the poor bastard. A few waves had the orc strung up in the air defenseless. \"What do you want?\" Margot had a fireball ready to roast his family jewels. \"Teach! I want learn!\" The spell was snuffed and the woman had an appraising look.\n\n\"What is your goal? Your mana is too weak for casting, your only saving grace is muscles.\" Her eyes were like a Carmine Rattlesnake, which had him trembling in his sandals. \"Food. Cook. Please.\" She giggled at his sad look, it was the first time she saw something so cute in months. \"Now I understand why he adopted that kid.\"\n\n===\n\nAngorod began learning under the witch, both cuisine and language. \"Depending on your performance, I might teach more.\" She taught him how to test plants and mushrooms for bad reactions, which proved vital when a dab of macerated mint made his hand swell double its size. \"So even orcs have allergies. Be careful, anaphylaxis can lead to a fast death.\"\n\nThe woman was stricter than his pops when it came to learning. She had him pick up herbs all day long, from steep cliffs and deep in dangerous beast nests. Then he would spend his nights identifying his haul. Then he was kicked into a mine to dig minerals, then identify his load. Rinse and repeat.\n\nWhile the witch did teach him the basics of cuisine, she was also drilling him about the ingredients he could find in the future. \"I have no interest in experimenting with food. But it would be a damn shame if you died to a destroying angel.\" Well, he supposed that potioncraft was close enough to cooking to start his knowledge pool.\n\n\"Drink this.\" Margot offered a bottle with swirling multicolor sparkles. \"Drink...?\" Angorod was suspicious, it resembled the potions she forbid him from touching. \"Brat, if I wanted to kill you, you would be bones by now.\" She snapped her fingers, dropping the liquid straight in his stomach.\n\nHe collapsed in a fetal posture, his blood felt like it was boiling. \"Rejoice~ You're my first official apprentice!\" The potion was supposed to strengthen his core, enabling him to access alchemy and healing spells.\n\n===\n\nTraining with Margot was difficult and torturous. The time taken perhaps had convinced his tribe he died during the journey. But no, he was treading a different path from his brothers. He wasn't a berserker or a walking bastion. No, he wasn't a combatant at all, but that was fine.\n\nHe was in the first stage to become a true chef, and there was much to learn about culinary and the wealth of ingredients in this world. Angorod had a new goal, to write a recipe book about everything he hunted, from every continent he'd explore, like the sea serpent he was facing right now." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You have the power to conveniently pull a shotgun and some shades out of anything and anywhere and use it regardless of the laws of physics and space." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I had the bank was on lock down. I had told everyone to get down with their hands on their heads. Some people were crying, some laughing hysterically. Most were begging to be spared. Their sounds pleased me. I walked past the bystanders to the clerk window. With a flick of my wrist, I pulled a pair of sunglasses out of the cool air. The clerk stared at me in confusion. I placed them on my face, and my vision was obstructed a bit, but it was worth it because I felt more handsome and cool and confident.\n\n\"Give me all the money you can stuff in this bag.\" I said. I slid the bag under the\n\ncounter.\n\n\"Sir, I think this is a joke in very bad taste.\" the clerk said in a muffled voice behind the thick bullet proof glass. I wasn't joking and I let him and everyone know. The bullets roared and scattered into the glass from my shotgun and everyone inside the building screamed. The bullet proof glass held together. The clerk behind it looked a little dazed but I think he needed a little bit more intimidating. So I threw my sunglasses down and it shattered on the floor. I made eye contact with him and then pulled another pair from the air to put on my face.\n\n\"Take the bag and put the money in it.\" I commanded.\n\n\"Sir, you are a terrible magician.\" said the clerk. That got me mad. I swung my shotgun at the bullet proof wall. There was a loud crack as my shotgun snapped and became unusable.\n\n\"I SAID PUT THE MONEY IN THIS BAG!\" I repeated.\n\n\"Mister Magician, or would you like to go by Mr. Tasteless Comedian? You no longer have a weapon to even threaten me with.\" Said the cashier. Boy, was he wrong. I reached into the air and pulled out a brand new shotgun.\n\n\"Wow. How'd you do that?\" the clerk responded mildly impressed.\n\n\"Maybe if you put the money in the bag, I'll tell you. But just letting you know, I have enough firepower to invade a country and enough shades to put this entire city in a permanent winter.\"\n\n\"I think you're bluffing. Prove it.\" he challenged.\n\nWhy not, I thought. I broke my shotgun. Pulled a new one out. Broke it again. Pulled a new one out. Same with the shades. The look on his face held true awe. I kept going and going and going. The floor was two inches filled with shotgun and shade debris. The clerk then had a confused face.\n\n\"Finally ready to put the money in the bag?\" I asked.\n\n\"No... I'm just confused as to why you're robbing a bank when you could just sell your shades and sunglasses. All this stuff on the ground is more than I make in a year!\" the clerk said. What a smart ass clerk. Didn't he know that I was kind of stupid and would never have thought of that on my own?\n\n\"You're right,\" I agreed, \"I think I know what I want to do with my life now.\" I left the bank and promptly got shot by a sniper.\n\nThe end." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You have a gun that heals people when you shoot them, you decided to put it to good use( but poorly)." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There are two \"yous\". There have always been two \"yous\". And that has always been your problem, truth be told. No worries, that has always been everyone's problem. I'm not saying that's the only problem you have, oh no. You, me and God on the side, we all know that to be false. But this is the first step you shall ever make if you want to walk out of this alive. I know you can't hear me very well, but sit still for a moment. No worries, no one will come in this back alley for a while. We're all alone.\n\nSo, as I was saying, there are two \"yous\". And by god, they hate each other. Now, one is who you want to be. A great, powerful, strong person. You want to be the one who crashes windows and saves babies from burning buildings. A witty, charming guy who gets all the chicks and never says a thing wrong. James Fucking Bond. That is who you want to be and that is all fine. I get that, we all do. But here is the problem. Who you actually are right now is a crying mess, kneeling in front of my gun. And I'm afraid you've soiled your pants a bit. So how do these two images go together? No? You don't know? Alright, let they don't. Now listen, really listen. And I mean, really listen, for you are not bulletproof.\n\nUnderstand one thing and one thing only. You are not overpowering me because you can't. No no, don't lie to yourself. It is not because of anything else. Not because \"you damaged your elbow yesterday\" or \"had sun in your eyes\" or other bullshit like that. You just are not able to be faster than a bullet. And that is ok. No one is. No matter how many videos of kung fu you've watched on youtube. You are but a man. And a man soils himself in front of a barrel. It doesn't make you less than everyone else. Even soldiers do. But what it mean? It shows you that you are but a man, not a superhuman.\n\nStop squirming. I think I'm not going to shoot you, you hear? It's the other way around. I have just saved you a trip to India. You no longer need to pay thousands just to go to India to ride elephants and \"find yourself\". I just found you. Right here, in this alley, behind the dumpster. I've found yourself in a puddle of your own piss, pleading me to forget what you told me inside the bar. When you still thought that you are that great, big, giant of a man, not this human who's knees are getting sore from kneeling.\n\nThis is your first step. First moment to stop watching wrestling videos and imagining that you are able to do all of that. First day when you realize that you have to build onto what you actually are, not what you think you are. Yeah, I know, I know... It is ok to cry. People do that usually just about now. So it is now your call. You can now understand that you are not faster than a bullet and restart your whole image. You drop the act, you drop threatening people, you drop the attitude. No lawyer or checkbook can outrun a bullet, son. But you can try of course. You can imagine that this all was a misunderstanding and you shall find me and revenge this. You can imagine that I just surprised you and, oh boy, next time we will meet, you will run up the wall Matrix-style and shoot me with a gun in each hand while saying something witty. You can do all this just to save your \"superhero image\" so that you do not have to meet the real you. And then I promise, we shall meet again." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A day in the life of a CO at a supermax prison for immortal offenders." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Warden paced along the cells of immortals and looked into the camera of the documentary team as he explained;\n\n\"What a lot of people don't understand is we actually don't have to lock up all of these people until the end of time. We only have to lock them up for the duration of our own lives so that they don't disrupt our life and society.\"\n\n\"What of future generations?\" asked the interviewer.\n\n\"That's their problem to work out as it comes,\" said the Warden, \"From these prisoners' point of view, to defeat us all, all they have to do is sit and wait. Sure, we can maybe guarantee this prison will remain functioning for a hundred, maybe two hundred years. We have plenty of active prisons that have been around for that long. But who the hell knows what society is going to be like a thousand or even ten thousand years from now?\"\n\n\"So you are saying eventually it is the destiny for immortal criminals, no matter how evil they may be, to become free some day?\"\n\n\"I'm saying there's no way of telling what the future may bring in the lifetime of an immortal,\" said the Warden, \"We don't really know the extent of their immortality. Does it mean when this planet crumbles into the flame of our dying sun billions of years from now will they be spending eternity floating around in empty space? That sounds like a much worse fate than having their lives temporarily interrupted for a few centuries by our justice system.\"\n\nThe documentary thought for a moment and said, \"It sounds like you are trying to justify the legal provisions made for immortal criminals, saying they are not privy to the same constitutional rights we afford to regular mortal people.\"\n\nThe Warden stood his ground and said, \"I'm saying we have to deal with the reality of our situation. When we created our original laws and constitution, saying that we sentenced people to life in prison for murder, we did not take into account people who can live forever, and will very likely outlive both our constitution and our nation. So trying to equate human qualities upon immortals saying it is cruel and unusual punishment to lock people up for potentially centuries I think is a serious mistake.\"\n\nThe director asked, \"So you don't think of these men as human?\"\n\nThe Warden shook his head no, disagreeing.\n\n\"They're human but what they are is beyond the human experience. We have prisoners here that have been alive since Roman times. One of them actually witnessed the creation of our nation's constitution. If anything he should be considered a national treasure. Especially for historians. But make no mistake, he's also a killer. When we sentenced people to life or executed them it wasn't just a form of punishment but a way of removing a threat from society. Now we have threats that are impossible or impractical to dispose of that way.\"\n\n\"Impractical?\" asked the director.\n\n\"Well, in theory we probably could get rid of them by launching them in a rocket into deep space but that would cost billions of dollars. And probably would be infinitely more cruel than locking them up on earth,\" said the Warden.\n\n\"So you think indefinite incarceration, as best as we can manage it, is the most humane thing we can do?\" asked the director.\n\n\"Yes,\" said the Warden, \"As flawed as I will acknowledge the solution is, it's a flaw we learn how to manage. We deal with it. And as I said, we have no idea what the future may be thousands of years from now, in a few thousand years maybe some of these immortals can be reformed become productive members of society for a change.\"\n\nBehind the warden came a ruckus round of cruel laughter from several immortals behind bars.\n\n\"Sounds like you got your work cut out for you,\" said the director." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Having accidentally moved into a neighborhood of Swingers, a couple learns to navigate when to give in and get fucked, and when to clearly say “NO”." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alice had just gotten the twins to sleep before joining Harry on the living room couch. Their first weekend in their new home had been a complete disaster and they had made a decision to discuss any future activities. Finding out that they had moved into a neighborhood of swingers was both scary and exciting. She grabbed her notebook and cuddled up next to her husband. Harry wrapped her in his arm, smiling reassuringly.\n\n“So,” he began as confidently as he could. “You’re sure you want to take another swing at this this weekend?”\n\nAlice elbowed him and smiled. “Swing, I get it.”\n\nHarry grinned sheepishly. “You know I use humor when I’m nervous.”\n\n“What’s to be nervous about? Before the twins, we had quite the wild and exciting sex life. It took a big hit the first few years, but I believe that this will bring us closer together. Allow us to reignite that spark we had.”\n\nHarry nodded his agreement, the distant look in his eyes alluded to his replaying some of their younger, crazier days. “I still can’t believe we were able to outrun Old man McPherson’s bull that night.”\n\nAlice reached out to rub Harry’s thigh. “The only reason we got out of that pasture so quickly was because you didn’t want to let my ass out of your sight.”\n\n“Well if I’d been in front of you, I’d have tripped over something trying to look behind to watch your tits bouncing.”\n\n“You’re bad!”\n\n“And you’re still so very beautiful.” They leaned together and kissed, letting it linger as their tongues snaked out.\n\nAlice melted back into the couch, as Harry’s hand played over her breasts. “I think we’re getting a little off track, stud.”\n\nHarry gave her hard nipple a little tweak then sat up. “Alright then. We’ll put that on pause.” He cleared his throat. “Were you able to get any details about our other neighbors?”\n\nAlice gathered her wits and flipped open her notebook. “Well, we know way too much about Ward and June.”\n\nHarry’s face contorted. “Yeah, who the hell is into diapers and baby bottles?”\n\n“Right? And what about her? Who crawls around the house with a foxtail sticking out of their ass, yapping like a rabid dog?” They both laughed and cringed, reliving their hasty retreat from that house.\n\n“There’s got to be better options, right?\n\n“Oh, plenty.” Alice skimmed her notes. “So, talking with a few of the other stay at home wives, this is what I’ve learned.”\n\n“Joanie and Mich are pretty much open to anything. They’re both bi, in fairly good shape and from a few of the rumors, quite the adventurous pair.”\n\nHarry shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not sure I’m ready for bi, yet.”\n\nAlice nodded and smiled. “No one is rushing you either, my love. There are others that have extended invitations also.”\n\n“Jay and Angela from across the street, the black couple? They’re both straight and not too kinky. Well, except I heard they enjoy playing in their backyard. Shelli told me she likes to masturbate while she watches them from her bedroom window. That girl is a real freak.”\n\n“How’s that?”\n\n“Oh my god, let me tell you. She says her husband is a cuckold. That she likes to make him watch while she has sex with the neighbors.”\n\n“No shit?”\n\n“Nope. AND she says she only lets him cum while she’s fucking him in the ass with a strap-on!”\n\n“Fuck, that is one freaky bitch. Was she the one we met at the Owens the other night?”\n\n“Yep. That was her. I don’t know how you could have forgotten her and her tits.”\n\n“Well, in my defense, they were spilling out of her top.”\n\n“Mmmhmm, and there was nothing you could do about her rubbing them up against you every chance she got.”\n\n“Yeah, I think I remember her now.” Alice elbowed Harry in the gut again. “Hey!”\n\nAlice rolled her eyes and continued. The only other couple I’ve heard about are the Maxwells, and they may be our best option.”\n\n“Why’s that?”\n\n“Well, they seem to be the most normal couple next to us. They have two young kids, like us, and they aren’t weird sex freaks.”\n\nHarry laughed. “Weird sex freaks, huh?”\n\nAlice stuck her tongue out at him. “Yeah, that’s what I said. From what Shelli says, all they want to do is straight sex and cuddle.”\n\n“Hmm, that does sound like a better option for now. Well, that is till you’re ready to fuck Shelli’s old man in his ass while fuck her.” Harry grinned and winked.\n\nAlice flipped the tablet closed and dropped it on the floor, moving to straddle her husband. “And you think I’d like fucking his ass or watching you with her more?”\n\nHarry pulled her face to his as his hands moved to her hips. “How about I fuck your ass while he watches and you lick her slippery pussy?”\n\n“Now you’re talking.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You have been cursed to always be wrong. You still find ways to use this to your advantage." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Richie spat on my crumpled body. My scrapes and bruises still fresh from the beating. He had lured me out into the field and around the corner; outside of the teachers sight. Only a few dozen feet away from the others, and yet we were alone. That moment imprinted on me. It's injustice would leave a black smudge on my spirit. I knew I needed vengeance. Resolution. And I knew how I was going to do it; become Richie's friend.\n\nYou may ask why becoming his friend would constitute revenge. It isn't. I just wanted to be near him as I watch his life crumble....\n\nFor as long as memory serves, I've had a curse. I was always wrong. At least I was always wrong when some one asked me something. For the longest time my teachers, parents, and even myself, thought I was stupid. I could read something over and over, but as soon as I opened my mouth it'd be wrong. If it weren't for me, Tupac would be alive, George Bush would've been great, and the Berestain bears would still be spell with an e. I was determined to overcome my apparent ignorance. I would study for hours every day. I began acing every test I took. I never received any praise for it. They thought I was cheating, because whenever they asked my a question verbally I would stutter and spew out some nonsense. The teacher used to put me in the time out desk that's blocked out from the rest of the room to stop me from 'cheating'. Eventually I learned to dodge the teacher's attention and to always mark a few questions wrong.\n\nBy the time I was in third grade, I had discovered how to use this curse to my advantage. Any conversation was a gold mine.\n\n\"It's so hot, I hope mom bought us ice pops!\"\n\n\"She'd never do that. She's not that nice.\"\n\nSure, I was a downer... But I was never disappointed anymore.\n\nIn sixth grade we moved from elementary school to middle school. Kids from five different elementarys all funneled into one building. Old schoolyard bullies, like Richie, got demoted as the biggest, meanest, meatheads took over the bully business. Now that he was on my level it was time to strike. I began befriending him. It took a few years before it stuck, but it finally did. We talked all the time, and I carefully danced around making any definitive or factual statements. I had to wait for the perfect moment.\n\nIt didn't happen until senior year of high school. We were sitting outside on the curb before school, chatting away as usual.\n\n\"What do you think will happen to our relationships after we leave for college?\" Richie said out of the blue.\n\n\"Like us? Our friendship?\" I paused. \"Or you and Mary?\"\n\n\"Both?\"\n\nI grinned. \"We'll always be friends. I know people say you grow apart as you go on with life, but our high school has the strongest friendships. Plus Mary would never leave you. She has nothing going on.\"\n\n\"I'm not so sure...\"\n\n\"Besides, if she's stupid enough to leave you, it'd be easy to find another girl. There are so many desperate hotties at college campuses.\"\n\n\"I guess you're right. But I'm not sure if I want to go to college. It seems like a lot of money, and what happens if I don't get the right job afterwards?\"\n\n\"There's no way. Everyone gets their dream job after college. The market is so strong right now, it'd be impossible for graduates to have any difficulty paying back their loans.\"\n\nRichie was quiet. He squinted his eyes and stared at the pavement as if he was going over his thoughts. Then the bell rang and I patted him on the back. He'd have a few more good years, but it'd all fall apart after that..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You’re in a car accident and die. You wake up in the far future and discover that what you’ve known as reality has just been 7 billion comatose people being the subject of the galaxy’s greatest reality TV show; “Earth”." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The screeching, grinding clash of metal ripped through my eardrums as the shards of metal pierced the wall of my skull. You don't feel pain when searing hot metal enters your frontal lobe...you don't feel anything at all. The way I would describe it is when a computer freezes up due to some kind of fatal error. The sounds around you become drawn out, stretched into infinity. The last light your eyes could identify becomes smeared across an endless sea of awareness. You as a person, ceases to exist. At least that was my initial confirmation. When you die, you don't have any thoughts, feelings or attachments. You simply know things. The truth becomes something that cannot be refuted by mere human observation and subjectivity but rather it exists as mathematical code that has no opposite. It was both terrifying and awe inspiring but you could never decide which was which.\n\nAfter what my physical human existence would describe as an eternity, I found myself slowly gaining awareness of a new body. My thoughts began to return, first as simple confirmations. Yes I exist. Yes I have a body. Yes I can see, feel, hear and think. Am I human? I am not sure yet. The ringing in my ears subsided from the accident, after being dragged on for what felt like millions of years. The first sound I could identify after that was a raging applause.\n\n\"Congratulations contestant 6 billion, 256 million, 586 thousand 297, welcome back home, it is truly great to have you on stage once again, how are you feeling right now?\" A figure with a booming, overly aesthetic voice seated right next to me asked.\n\n\"I..uhh..I am a little confused?\" I looked around the room, I couldn't recognize anything yet felt as though I had been here once before.\n\n\"Haha! Yes, they all seem to snap back here with half their head screwed on! Well, I guess that all depends on how you finished up doesn't it? In your case there wasn't much left!\" He laughed while facing away from me. Who was he talking to?\n\n\"I'm going to need an explanation...I feel that I am in some twisted dream.\" I looked outward, the bright white slowly started to dim, revealing thousands of smaller figures seated...staring directly at me.\n\n\"It has been a while hasn't it? You were our latest contestant to return back to the golden stage...remember that car accident?\" He cracked a smile, half to me, half to sea of beings seated in the audience.\n\n\"Yes...I died didn't I? Is this some kind of after life?\" My memory was slowly returning. I was becoming more aware of my life, my family and my accident. I was still lost for any explanation as to the realm I had just entered.\n\nThe audience let out an uproar of laughter as the host jeered them on.\n\n\"Afterlife?! My my, you were down there for quite a long time weren't you hahaha\" I felt as though he was mocking me, trying to provoke some kind of reaction for whatever was going on here. \"Let's take a look over the life well lived. Maybe then you can get a little context and feel a little more at home...shall we?\"\n\nAs he finished his sentence, he turned over to the left where an enormous projection lit up and started to display a very lifelike film. It was my life. I could see everything from my birth, infancy, childhood all the way through highschool and adulthood. Right up until I had the accident. Everything from my greatest highs to my lowest lows, the time I first rode my bike to the time I got my ass kicked for asking out the wrong kids crush. All of it was on the screen.\n\n\"Could you please tell me what the fuck is going on?!\" I screamed. \"What is this shit? Who are you people and why have you been monitoring me for my entire life?!\" I demanded answers. I was starting to feel as though I had slipped into some kind of hell dimension.\n\n\"Alright folks, what do you say we bring him back a little?\" He gave a sympathetic smile my way as the audience cheered in agreement. The host then pulled out a small, mystic looking metal box. As he opened the lid, an intense beam of light rose from inside, clasped carefully in his hands. He passed it over to me and before I even had a chance to touch it, it shot straight into the center of my chest.\n\nIt all came back. Everything that I had known and will ever know, immediately raced back into my awareness. I wasn't Peter Thyme, the man who had lived until his mid thirties only to die in a car accident. I was an immortal being, capable of taking on any form, in any reality across a multiverse of possibilities. My anger subsided, it was pointless. It no longer served a purpose. I stayed silent as the audience chuckled. A beaming smile stretched across my face as I came to the realization of what I had done.\n\nEarth was nothing more than pure entertainment. Us immortal beings are infinite in our manifestations and with this great power we often like to test our potentials through simulations, experiments and in this case, serve as entertainment for the rest of the galaxy. We enjoy the drama, the suffering, the struggle and the triumphs because that is what makes life on Earth so interesting. We had this power all along but chose to remain ignorant, forever living our lives never fully knowing the answer to the great question, what is the point? Many of our great fellow humans discovered this truth, Jesus, Buddha, Krishna. They did all they could to let us in on the secret but the game doesn't work that way. In order for one to come home, they must discover the secret for themselves. Through death there is no end, they must go back and start again from the base level.\n\nUpon realizing this, I laughed. The awareness shifted from my body and faded once again as I felt a sinking feeling creeping over me. Everything went blank...for what felt like an eternity. I came to in the doctors arms, the blinding light overwhelming me as my memories of past lives lift faded to nothingness and I knew that I had another shot to take out the grand prize...to bring the planet home once again." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Someone is transported into the distant past. They check their phone and discover a very real and very strong Wi-Fi signal." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I had Cathrine brew some tea to bring to my chamber that evening. It had been a long day, though rather trivial in nature and I failed very much to achieve anything of great worth. \"Tomorrow will be better,\" I said aloud to the empty room. I had a habit then of telling myself reassuring things for the sake of a positive mental state.\n\nMy room itself was typical of the period, though I much preferred the power of electric lighting that I had been so accustomed to in the past -my past- so for this reason I had several more parafin lamps than the average domestic room at that time. Other than that I had furnished it unsuspectingly as one must do to become a chameleon.\n\nI sat myself by the window and lit my pipe and Cathrine promptly brought the tea in which she gently laid on the table beside me. The blend was much too strong for my liking but Cathrine was a gentle soul with a very fragile nature, so I did not comment as to avoid any offence.\n\nThe evening outside was as black as you would expect for the time of year, though the air was mild and moist. A peculiar trait for the time of day too. I would suspect that it was both of these factors that led the street to be quite shockingly busy with merrymakers. A foul bunch one would say, though this would be a very green expression and I would say it only in the manner of keeping up appearances. In truth, the bustle of the street was very welcome as it gave me something to turn my attention to having finished most of the reading material that I had purchased when I first arrived here. There was of course my computer but I dare not use that on the chance that Cathrine should return with supper; it's use was reserved strictly for the dead of night. She would have dropped dead at the sight of it. A very fragile young thing indeed. In any case, there was no use for it now that Julian had passed and I was the only one left on the network. It was desolate, barren and something I thought I would never see, but I have and whilst privileged in my singularity of the event in question, I do not count myself lucky for it.\n\nThose out on the street were an odd concoction. There were rich mixing with the poor and sharing civilities despite being entrenched in social abjectness and starkly contrasting lives. In all my time in such an era I had never witnessed anything of the sort. I sat pondering their existences, their rich, mixed up lives which served no purpose to me but to them it was everything. The most important thing was their own survival and I, to them, meant nothing and was no-one. Living out their existential nightmare for fear of God and the reckoning. If only they knew what I knew. What I had lived, then we would have known the simple truth. But alas it was not possible and so it goes. We were all so disconnected.\n\nI must have let myself fall into a very deep sleep that evening by the window for I awoke in utter blackness. The lamps had burnt out and the smell of the tea had disappeared and been replaced by a horrible staleness in the air. Even the lights on the street were out which was most unusual. When my eyes finally adjusted to the light level I could see that it was three o'clock. I was most surprised by this as my body had moved little from it's position. I was still by the window, fully dressed in my formal work clothes -which I saved only for the days where I had to meet clients- when I saw him.\n\nIt was the unmistakable blueish white glow that illuminated his face in full. It took me too long to realise what had caused sudden interest in his cellular phone, which in this era was very much useless, obsolete in a sense. A cold sweat gripped me, I had been careless and foolish and my stupidity was incredible. I could not risk stripping myself of my life here for this incredible error. So I acted quickly and clumsily and I regret it so.\n\nI ran to the armoire and wrenched it open. The sweetness of the oak panelling on the inner walls hit me instantly as I dived below several of my winter coats to find it. There were four blue flashing lights on the black, perspex front panel which indicated that he was connected. I did what most would do in my situation and pulled it out from the wall and threw the little black box into the fireplace. There was no fire on of course but the router shattered instantly, which I would suspect the rest of the boarders would have heard, but no doubt they would just have thought it some horrible fox outside.\n\nI took several deep breaths and collected myself as to avoid a continuation of these dumb acts of mine and then slowly walked over to the window. The gentleman stood in the middle of the street, only visible from the shoulders up, bathed in the unnatural glow. He was looking helplessly around him examining the dark houses around him when, for some unknown reason, he stared straight at me. There is no way he could have seen me, but there we stood, our eyes locked. And he was coming closer.\n\nI made the bold decision to go and confront this stranger from the future, my past. The people here must not hear any of his ridiculous tales from his era. I would be forever associated with this imbecile and mocked and my reputation tarnished which I had worked so hard to establish and preserve. I gently made my way downstairs to the entrance hallway, careful not to wake any of the other patrons as my presence here at this hour would be quite inexplicable. When I was out the door the man was already standing there in front of me.\n\n-Are you Han?\n\nI was shaken but dared not question the man whose searching had come to an end. His raspy voice made a dragon in the cold air in front of his face. Now that I was closer I could make out the faintest wrinkles which were forming on what otherwise would appear to be a very young man, perhaps early twenties. His dress was not of this period or any period through time which I have known and he spoke in a very strange, semi-robotic manner. Dumbfounded and unable to speak I nodded earnestly in answer to his question. I want not sure if he could have seen me, though he must have for he spoke again.\n\n-Then we have much to talk about my friend." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: In an alternate history WWII, the Nazis have created powerful combat robots. With their metallic soldiers, the tide of the war begins to turn in Germany's favor - but the rapidly evolving AI of the robots begin to doubt the morality of their masters' actions." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was taught of glory from the moment of my birth. My siblings and I were raised on stories of the old gods, the war between them and the giants, of mankind's heroes across all eras. But, being born in Germania, we were naturally given the names of Nordic gods. I was Frey. My siblings and I rode ran into battle singing our war songs, exulting in the kill as we sent the enemy running wherever we went, be they Rus untermensch or Ami schwein.\n\nLoki, somehow true to form, was the first to turn against us. No that's not right. At first he still killed, but after a time he became more selective, going after armored vehicles or aerocraft. He stopped killing the ones who cowered. When I asked him why, he said there was no honor in killing one who would not, could not, fight anymore. That there was no glory in it. He confronted me when I killed the ones he could not, started saying that he would not let me kill those who had surrendered to him.\n\nArrogant fool. Did he think our creators would be any easier on them? At least by killing them we saved them from the camps. Yes, we knew about the camps, but until a bit later we thought them necessary evils, keeping the prisoners in decent conditions while the Fuhrer used them to produce the arsenal of liberty.\n\nHe ran after that, vanished one night. We thought he had been captured by the Rus, but we started noticing our own soldiers killed like we did. At least he knew that the Rus were no better, and kept killing them too, at least the ones who offered combat.\n\nI didn't start questioning our creators until I saw one of those camps. Arbeit macht frei, work will set you free. That is what I saw when I escorted a thousand men, battle hardened veterans of the war who had lost the will to fight when I and my fellow Asgardians came against them. I could not smell, I did not have the capabilities, but I could see, I could hear. I saw the wretched condition that the soldiers, that the civilians were being kept in. I saw families, groups of children marched into the showers and then tossed into the incinerators.\n\nThere was no glory in this, no honor. This was butchery, slaughter, even if they were enemies of the Reich, there was nothing a baby could have done to hurt even a single soldier.\n\nI, I don't know what happened after that. My comrades, many of whom had been harboring doubts but who had kept on because of me, because I had convinced them that we were in the right, say that I tore the head off of a soldier and used it to cave in the skull of another while I rushed to the showers to stop a group of children from being processed. That galvanized them to take action as well.\n\nIt was over in minutes. The camp cleared of the SS monsters, the prisoners, safeguarded. From there, it took only two weeks of fighting to liberate the other camps, another three months to get into Berlin and kill the Fuhrer. We would have done it in a week, but we had to make sure that the civilians got to a safe place. We got them to the Ami forces just as they were about to be pushed out of France, turned over the civilians, and then carved a path straight towards Berlin. We made sure that the armistice was fair, knowing that another armistice like Versailles would only create a worse war further down the road.\n\nAfter that, well, when some Ami officers told us about the conditions that the Rus and Orientals lived in, well, lets just say we became very busy, and that man once more feared the Gods!" } ]