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BintangFortuna

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Bintang Fortuna 2

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Your dead fathers will finally reaches you and you gain possession of his watch. You wear it in his memory and go about your life, until one day when you notice the hands going backwards." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My father was a silent man, watching events unfold from a distance and letting the world pass him by as if he were a stone statue. He cared deeply for those around him, but those who didn't know him often avoided contact with him due to his gloomy presence. One would think he was a silent killer with his aura, but beneath his concrete outside was a soft and nurturing heart. He always wore this one watch, a small watch meant for kids with a camouflage design. I never understood why he wouldn't wear a normal metallic watch like the rest of the world, and I also didn't understand why his last request from me was to wear it.\n\nAt first I was hesitant to wear the watch, because it might have negative effects in my interviews with potential employers. Who would hire someone wearing such a non-professional watch? Eventually I decided that in an interview I could hide it under my sleeves, as the adjustable Velcro strap allowed it to ride up my arm if needed.\n\nAfter the first week or so of wearing this watch, I noticed how comfortable it could be compared to all the metallic linked watches I've tried before, and life was tough remembering my father every time I looked at my watch. However, there was a calming sense whenever I'd look for the time, a sense that my father was watching over me as if to say everything would turn out alright. After my outlandish interview earlier I could really use a few words from my dad right now.\n\nThe interview was awful, it was the first one since my father passed away last Thursday. I froze at every question, and my responses were short and halfhearted.\n\n\"Why do you want to work here?\" The most common question asked by employers, one of which I had never hesitated to answer beforehand, I struggled with today. I don't remember why I even entered the field of computer science. Science has always been a field I've been interested in; learning the wonders of the world, finding exciting new discoveries, diving in to the computer to program, all of these seemed to fit into any field with computers. I feel lost now without my dad to share my adventures with.\n\nCurrently I'm sitting at a coffee shop, drinking a hot chocolate to try and soothe my nerves. Researching another job opportunity is my next goal, but for now I should take the time to re-evaluate my life and sipping this hot chocolate.\n\nIt's only 2:34 in the afternoon, the day is still young. I should focus on not focusing on the interview, I've got my whole life ahead of me.\n\nStudying the watch as I sip my hot cocoa, I notice something strange with the watch. The hands are moving backwards. Has it always done this? It hasn't been wrong about the time, but it couldn't possible be correct while going backward, this must be new.\n\nLooking up from my watch, a gentlemen who was waiting for his coffee begins to walk backwards from the counter. The door opens on its own and he walks through it, pulling it shut from the outside.\n\nIn just a moments time, he opens the door again and walks to the counter, and I notice my watch moving clockwise again.\n\nNot too long after this occurrence, my phone buzzes and I see an email notification. It's from my father." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A demon manifests itself before you and reveals that you are destined to become one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The prophetic war of Light and Darkness is nigh, but the demon insists that you use your powers to break the prophecy and save the world from total destruction." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He sat in the small and cozy kitchenette, attempting very hard to look human, but he was not. At a glance you might not notice, but he was quite off. Skin too tight and thin, bones too long and angular, a slight shudder to the light bouncing off of him. After watching him toy with his drink for a long while, the other individual replied.\n\n\"So, I would become Conquest I'm guessing?\" Sam asked.\n\nFurcas looked up from his glass, startled out of deep thought. Sam was an elderly individual and had eyes that did not so much pierce as they did bore right through you.\n\n\"Oh, um,\" Furcas stumbled, in his hoarse, scratchy voice, \"well, yes.\"\n\n\"Mhm, I see,\" Sam replied, \"So, I suppose you're waiting for me to ask why it is that you don't want the world to end?\"\n\n\"Well, I mean, I was waiting for you to ask a few more questions than that, but. . . \"\n\nSam waved the comment away. \"I am too old to worry about the extraneous details relating to the situation. Nothing about this feels peculiar to me anyway, so it's better to be direct.\"\n\nFurcas nodded and took a sip, gulping hard and clearing his throat afterward.\n\n\"I suppose that's fair,\" Furcas stated, \"You have known all along. Yes. Even if you haven't known you'd known. Yes. Ah, well, as surprising as it is I rather like being alive. Living in hell might seem a bit, um, unpleasant, but I enjoy it. And we do get to venture out and cause torment on earth so there's that.\"\n\n\"There's more to it than that.\" Sam said.\n\nFurcas coughed a bit, choking on another swig he had begun to take.\n\n\"Excuse me?\"\n\n\"You're lying. At least partially. You're leaving something out. Like you said, I know even if I don't really know,\" Sam smiled as he spoke the last words, \"By the way, I don't think I offered you any cookies. Did you want an Oreo?\"\n\nFurcas had his worried look replaced with an even more worried look. Like Sam had reached into him and twisted an already taut crank just a touch tighter.\n\n\"I'm. . . I'm not. . .\"\n\nThe smile vanished from Sam's face and he stood up from the table.\n\n\"You are lying to me,\" he said, looming over the fragile looking devil, \"I know. I am one of the four. One of the riders of the apocalypse. I am carried before the host of the end with a brilliant crown on my head and a magnificent bow in my hand. I can see your heart as clearly as if it were an idle thought in my head. Now tell me the truth or I will ride and the others will follow.\"\n\nAfter a few moments of silence Sam reseated himself and waited for a reply.\n\n\"I want to go back to heaven,\" he began, pausing slightly, choking on the words, \"I miss. . . I miss the birds.\"\n\n\"Mhm. And this will get you in?\"\n\n\"I don't know. I can only hope.\"\n\n\"That is all anyone can ask for,\" Sam said, moving to to take Furcas' cup, \"I never planned to ride. I'll leave that for the next horseman. But I thank you for coming.\"\n\n\"But. . .\" Furcas stuttered, \"but what about. . .\"\n\n\"I'll put in a word for you,\" Sam chuckled, smile returning to his face, \"you've not revealed anything to me that I didn't already know. But actions speak louder than words and I needed to make sure you'd follow through. You'll hear the songbirds again. Now, you can run along now. I have to make a few phone calls.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: There is a countdown clock to the end of the world. As the clock counts down the last few seconds, the entire world is watching. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0, -1, -2..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Day 0. Date : 26th December 2073.\n\n12hours to go: Today is the day the second last clock ceases to measure time. In the past 6 months, due to a rapid increase in earth's radioactivity, all the clocks and watches that kept time had come to a halt, except one, The London Tower Clock, which is of course digital now. A true majestic beauty she is. On a side note, coincidentally, today is the day life on earth as we know comes to an end. The humongous asteroid, nearly the size of Jupiter is on course to strike earth wholly in just 12 hours. Due to the increased radioactivity, Earth pulls the asteroid closer and closer to her, making it impossible for survival. The London Tower Clock is reset to a countdown at 12 hours, with people accepting their impending doom. This, of course was predicted 12 months ago, and confirmed with a 100℅ accuracy 5 months ago, the day of the summer solstice. That was also the day earth was exhausted of power and there's been a total blackout ever since.\n\n6 hours to go : Franz wakes up. People have taken to the streets, holding each other's hands. But Franz dare not join the activity. For he holds a deep secret and a plan for today. He pulls up the sleeve of his shirt, and looks at his wristwatch. 6 hours to go it says. The London Tower Clock is not the only remaining active one, for Franz possesses the only other working one. Casually, he pulls down his sleeve and changes to a suit. He patiently sits on the couch, waiting for the right moment.\n\n5 hours to go: Franz looks at the giant telescreen, outside the London Tower. Telescreen was of course invented a few decades ago. It is a breakthrough since it does not require electricity. The telescreen shows billions of people gathered in various countries, each having their own giant telescreens. In each of those, there is only one live video that is running. The Countdown. 5 hours to go. The entire world is watching the telescreen. No one is watching the actual clock. Perfect, Franz thinks. He goes back to his building and sits calmly.\n\n3 hours to go: Franz looks around in the ancient structure. He has finally managed to slip through the crowds of people and here he is, finally inside the magnificent London Tower. He makes his long walk up. His wristwatch says 3 hours to go.\n\n2 hours to go: As Franz looks at the mass of people gatheres, he flips a switch and all the telescreen go black. He hears loud cries of people. He gently pushes the hands of the clock and a few minutes later, the telescreens are back again. To people's confusion and amazement, the clock is showing time again. 105 minutes remaining. Franz calmly makes his way down and out into the crowd.\n\n1 minute to go: The people are now praying for each other's souls and waiting eagerly for their annhilation. The whole world is entirely silent, as all eyes fall onto the telescreens.\n\n10,9,8,7,6,5,4,3,2,1. Total silence. Nothing happens!\n\nThe crowd is shell shocked as they see the countdown go to -1. Followed by -2, then -3,-4.\n\nWe have been saved, large voices gather. The people are celebrating jubilantly and wildly. The asteroid has passed us and we are not doomed after all!\n\nMinus 9 minutes: Franz looks at the faces of the people and is elated. The happiness on their faces is beyond words. We must never have perished grimly, he thinks. Now all he sees is an ocean of happiness spreading and growing madly. He smiles to himself, sheepishly.\n\nFranz knew, the people had deserved this, to leave this world happily as he looked at his wristwatch. 10 seconds to go.\n\n10\n\n9\n\n8\n\n7\n\n6\n\n5\n\n4\n\n3\n\n2\n\n1.\n\nFranz takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes and the happiness and relief of the people flashed before his eyes.\n\nBoom!\n\nMy first attempt, please drop in a comment :)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: \"No, I'm not going to set my mother on fire!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No, I'm not going to set my mother on fire. Her wish, her intention, her plan — but not mine. And I am the one who gets to decide.\n\nWhen I was ten years old, our house burned down. I remember waking in the middle of the night, scared and confused by unfamiliar red light, hot, choking from all the smoke. I was reading about Hell the day before — not that it was suitable for young children — but I was very curious. So for a moment I thought I was dead, in Hell, punished for some childhood lie or other transgression. But then my father kicked the door, grabbed me, and run out. We got out alive.\n\nOur parrots weren't so lucky.\n\nLater, I found out my mother was the one to set it aflame.\n\nI loved her, and I still do. But there was always a shadow in her, a fracture, a dark, fiery vortex. I never knew whether she changed, or whether she always was like this. But at one point I noticed how father always hid the matches, how all the cooking apparatus didn't have open flames. And I couldn't remember if it was ever different.\n\nShe was not a bad mother, at least not intentionally. She played all my favorite child games, she gave me adult books about Hell and fire and planets and dinosaurs, she tried to encourage me when I failed. But I was scared of her when she was angry — and she was angry often. She took my childhood sins as personal insults, as spit in her face. And when insulted she made my life hard.\n\nWhen she hit me yet again after promising not to, my father took me and left. I wished we left earlier, and I wished we never left — as I said, I did love my mother. But in the end it was for the best.\n\nI haven't seen her in a while. Last time I saw her was in a special care institution. A good and expensive one — my father had seen to that. But still she looked bad, even with some burn marks on her hands that I didn't notice before. She smiled at me and talked about the good moments of my childhood, about all the games we played. She said she was sorry it turned out like this.\n\nBut she also said she is close. \"I am close to understanding the flame\" she said quietly. \"Flame and pain, so tightly intertwined. People can't understand it, they imagine fire as Hell, as punishment. But without fire we would be cold, hungry, dead. Fire is what makes us human, fire and pain.\n\nFor dead do not feel pain and do not feel fire.\"\n\nI didn't need to know that. I didn't want to be there anymore, I wanted to disappear, to hide. As I always did when I was a child and she was behaving like this. But she held my sleeve.\n\n\"I read books\" she said. \"All my life I read books, trying to find the answer, trying to understand what is it I feel, what mystery I find in flame, as thousands of temples did before me.\n\nAnd now I know.\" said my mother. \" There is only one secret remaining. The phoenix, the sharpening of soul. The last step, the darkest step. And yet I believe in myself. I was always a decent person, wasn't I? I will do it right.\"\n\nI couldn't look into her eyes when I nodded.\n\nShe died soon after.\n\nI wish I could say the will was a surprise. But I was surprised on how much there was about cremation. All the details were there, including a place to scatter the ashes.\n\nAnd yet, I said no.\n\nI'm not going to set my mother on fire. I know that was her wish, that was what she lived for. And I do not really believe her about the mysteries of flame. And there is no reason not to.\n\nBut deep inside I know. I know she couldn't care much about people. I know she wasn't as decent as she thought herself to be.\n\nAnd I am afraid at what phoenix that \"darkest step\" will bring back." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: \"Yeah... I don't know why that eyeball is there.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "But I did.\n\nThey were always watching through the walls. Nobody else seemed to give them much notice. They've been part of every city and town and lake and forest I'd ever been to. They scared me as a child, but when I'd tell my mother about them she'd yell \"GO AWAY, EYES!\" at them. They didn't go away, but it comforted me that she could stand up to them and there was no retaliation. So I supposed they were ok.\n\nShe died when I was 11. I remember being at her funeral in a cotton dress with those little socks with the bows on them. Did you know that you can't get those socks in adult sizes? I checked. They let me out of the home one day to go to the shops like the other ladies my age. None of them seemed to pay any mind to the eyes on the walls either, nor the ones on the floor.\n\nI don't think about that day very often. I got followed the whole way and I was very scared. When I told my companions that there were people following me with strange radios they'd asked if I'd eaten my mints that day. My breath was fine.\n\nWhy couldn't people follow me to love me? Why did the eyes on the wall look at me with hatred instead of love?\n\nI told the carer at the home they sent me to as a young girl that my mother would yell at the eyes. My carer would yell at them too. He was brave. Everyone seemed to be brave except me. Sometimes I think this life is a test. Maybe if I live it as best as I could, somebody would hug me again like my mother did. Somebody would tell me I was worth their time.\n\nAs I grew older, people stopped talking about the eyes. Maybe they got complacent. It was always the way it would go down. First they install the eyes on the wall, and maybe before I was born people protested. Maybe they made loud noises, but by the time I was born people thought them harmless. Maybe adults were used to them. First they get away with the eyes on the walls, the mercury in our food, the radio signals in our teeth, the metal through our veins, then when we are complacent enough they will use signals to get to our thoughts, our feelings, our desires. I couldn't be the only one who had read 1984.\n\nSo I asked my travelling companion again, \"But haven't you wondered why there are always eyes on these walls?\"\n\nHe asked if I'd had my mints today. I told him there was no need, my breath was fine.\n\nWhen we reached the end of the corridor he asked me to wait outside of the door as he knocked and entered. His voice lowered, but I could still hear him. I could hear all of them.\n\n\"The hallucinations haven't stopped, but it's hard to tell if they're working when the patient is not complying with her medication schedule.\"\n\n\"Look, we tried our best but sometimes electroshock is the only way to begin to heal the trauma. Childhoods like that, they just...\"\n\nI ran. I began to run without knowing where I was going. I knew it. I should have kept my mouth shut about the eyes. They were working for them. They were coming for my brain with their radio static and their metallic weaponry.\n\nI hit a wall. My chest seized up and I sat down. What was the point. I hit my head against the wall to calm myself. Legs crossed. Arms folded. Thump. I was only a little girl. Thump. I just wanted to be loved. Thump. It wasn't fair. Thump.... Thump... Thump... Thump... I kept rhythm until things went dark. The rhythm of the heart that would never love me." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: On a seemingly ordinary day, you hear the doorbell ring. Opening the door, you see nothing except a basket with a sleeping, three headed dog and a letter." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As I was sipping my morning joe, thinking about skipping my boring work today, the doorbell rang. Who could it be? I don't have any friends and no relative lives close by. I opened the door, not bothering to look through the peephole, and saw a three headed puppy tucked in a basket. I slammed the door shut, not really knowing what to do. I stood there for what it feels like an eternity and finally opened the door again. While looking at the monstrous dog, I noticed that it's awake and yawning. Quickly and quietly, I took it inside. So no one would see this thing and get suspicious.\n\nWhen I placed the basket on the floor of my apartment, the monster jumped and went straight beside my heater and slept. What is this thing and why was it placed outside my door? I looked at the basket and saw a black paper. It has some writings on it, and it says:\n\n\"Take care of my little Cerberus Jr. As I can't at the moment. I will collect him next week. Feed him only fresh goat meat, thrice a day. You'll know when he's hungry.\"\n\nSigned by someone named Josephina.\n\nWho's Josephina and why on earth would that person let me take care of this monstrosity? As I thought about whether just to dump him near a dog park or keep him for the time being, he went near me. The dogs softly growled and patted the floor. Maybe they're hungry? But I don't have any \"fresh goat meat\"! Plus I don't think that any market near me is selling a fresh one! I decided to just go buy some, because I don't want any monster ruining my space.\n\n\"Mmmkay... Just stay here and don't touch anything! Tsk, Cerberus Jr.\", I said to the dog.\n\nAfter almost an hour, I'm finally back at my place. When I opened the door, I almost didn't recognize my home. It's completely trashed! That evil monster! At that moment I decided to just throw him out. But, that dog's eyes. Those six puppy eyes got me. I can't throw them out, I just can't. Maybe it's my conscience telling no or what. I just sucked my irritation up and cleaned the whole apartment. Of course I fed them first. Their eyes, smile, and barks just warmed my heart completely. I can't throw them out!\n\nThe days that we spent together were filled with joy. They're basically my stress reliever every time I go home from work. They're pretty sweet, goofy, and very lovely.\n\nAnd then a week has passed. I'm anxious about this Josephina person. I don't want to be separated from my three angels.\n\nSo, I made a decision. We're going away. A million miles away from this place. That person is not going to find us ever again.\n\nBefore the final day of the week, I planned to go to a different country with my adorable puppies. We left my apartment and went to the airport. And before we board the plane, I heard an almost deafening screech,\n\n\"You'll never get away!\"\n\nAfter that, we're always in hiding. I don't care if we have to hide forever, as long as my Cerberus Jr. is with me." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Transhuman prosthetics take off in the late 2050s. A man with terminal brain cancer becomes the first person to have their brain fully replaced with a synthetic one. After the surgeries' success, an international public debate begins: are we speaking to a machine with a dead man's memories?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The crowd outside was unruly. Their chants scattered, unintelligible and angry. They were passionate, both sides. They were passionate and angry at each other, some moral justification to cover the real reason they were there: they were scared. And they wanted answers.\n\nHow was he to give them what they wanted? How was he to placate either side? Not long ago he had been dying, his brain rotting from cancer, his mind going into the abyss. He had lost all hope then until the miracle of man came through. A risky new venture had come along. He had nothing to lose and took it with what last threads of hope he hung by.\n\nAlec did not expect to wake up. He did not expect the media whirlwind to surround such an unimportant man like himself. Yet he was caught in this storm now, and he did not know what to do. In a few minutes he would be on television, on the internet, on radio, on everything it was possible to be on. The world’s spotlight would shine on him and they would expect answers.\n\nCould he give them those answers, he wondered. He doubted it. Was he man or machine? Was he an abomination or was he progress? Did he deserve to live? Alec didn’t know the answers himself. He wasn’t sure who he was anymore. All his thoughts were there, his memories and dreams and hopes and desires, but was he the same? Was he living a lie?\n\nHe remembered acutely the cancer, how it ate at him, devouring him until there was nothing. Part of him thought that that was the real Alec. The real Alec had died there and this was something else. Part of him thought that that wasn’t the end. He was the same man as he had always been. His soul was unchanged, and that was what made a man. But all of him just didn’t know. He was happy to be alive was all. He wished he could just tell them that, but that would never be enough. He didn't think anything would ever be enough.\n\nThey prepared him for TV. Even the crew looked at him strange. They had questions, questions they badly wanted to ask. Someone made the sign of the cross before powdering him. They whispered behind his back. Alec was not sure if he was man, but he knew he would never be human again.\n\nNear the broadcast time he thought about committing a live suicide. How poignant would it be to blow the divisive brain all over the stage? Wouldn’t it be something? Wouldn’t it end all discussion? But Alec knew he couldn’t. He was glad to be alive despite it all. He thought of the cancer again and knew he could not treat his life so disrespectfully. No, he needed another solution.\n\nWhen it was time he came out to fanfare and jeers. The lights were bright and he was at the center of the world it seemed. The mics were black snakes crawling in, surrounding him in a circle. Questions flew past him in a pandemonium and he almost fainted. His machine brain worked overtime to combat his human fear. Finally, they allowed him to speak and he did not have much to say. He could never answer their questions and he did not try. He could not make them change their minds about him, and again he did not try.\n\nAll Alec said was what he knew for sure. He was glad to be alive. He did not care what he was or what they called him. He was happy to be alive and he hoped that that was enough. He hoped that being alive was enough to be accepted by men, whether they considered him one or not. He said it was okay for them to argue over him or hate him, but to also look into their hearts. They were the humans, of that they were sure. He just asked that they treat him as a human should." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Astronauts visit Venus for the first time and discover a slum inhabited by human beings. The inhabitants ask, \"Why did you stop sending more people?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Joey looked down at his wrist console and scanned the man walking towards him. The man wore a patchwork spacesuit of various colors and textures. His long hair and beard obstructed his face and his bright blue eyes were illuminated by his helmet's dim light. As he moved, Joey could see his almost anorexic shape shuffle towards him in an uneven gait.\n\nSarah stood next to Joey with her mouth agape. \"My god, do... do you see what I'm seeing?\" She leaned over and powered up the rover which they rode in to visit the anomaly in the side of the jutting stone butte. \"Just in case,\" she said as she looked at Joey with a furrowed brow.\n\n\"Umm, yeah, I'm scanning him now. He's human, more or less. Lots of artificial parts. Maybe a weapon on him. The anomaly is a door. Cut into that butte or maybe a natural cave. Dunno.\"\n\nSarah stepped instinctively back and felt the pouch in her suit holding her compact gyrojet pistol. The pouch unsealed itself at her touch. \"Just in case,\" she radioed to Joey. Joey sighed and waved at the man. The man slowly waved back. They watched him walk towards them with his odd walk and slight limp. The little door in the stone butte was difficult to see from this distance. A thin sandstorm obstructed their view.\n\nTheir radios crackled with life. \"Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?\" The voice had a strange accent they didn't recognize.\n\nJoey radioed back, \"This is Commander Smithe from the Argo IV. Who is this?\"\n\nThe radio responded with nothing but static. The man kept walking near them. Sarah now had the pistol in her hand. She felt the click of the safety coming off automatically. The lights in their visors turned red. Joey nodded at her and she took a position near a boulder.\n\n\"Just keep an eye on him. You, uh, know what to do if anything happens.\"\n\nSarah nodded and said, \"My god, I didn't ever expect to ever use this thing. I thought it was NASA bullshit they forced it on us.\" She looked at the pistol for a moment. Its strange design and composite materials made it weigh very little, even with Venus's near Earth gravity.\n\nTheir radios crackled again and the man spoke, \"Why haven't you sent more people? Why?\" He was right upon them. Joey stepped up and put his hand out offering a handshake. Sarah looked on making a tight and worried face.\n\nThe man stared at Joey's hand and went back to ranting and raving. \"Why, why didn't you help us? Its been so long. The machines keeping us alive are held together with spit and elbow grease. Why, why?\"\n\nThe man got closer to Joey as Sarah trained the weapon at him.\n\n\"Why? Why?\" the man fell over into the Venusian dust, on his knees, and then finally over. Joey bent over quizzically and looked at the console display on the old man's suit. It was off. He grabbed at the man's arm and shook him. Nothing.\n\n\"My scanner says he's not breathing. No heartbeat,\" added Sarah as she put the weapon away. \"He's dead. Cardiac failure. Probably just a matter of time considering his health.\"\n\nA piece of insulation came off the old man's suit as Joey shook him. Joey stared at the familiar Asian Alliance Space Collective patch with its gaudy mix of greens and reds. \"Uh, was there ever an AASC mission here before NASA,\" he asked. Joey laid him gently on the sandy soil.\n\nSarah bit her lip for a moment and said, \"Yes, I think so, but it was rumors my parents told me. It failed or got canceled or something. Dunno, the second Cold War was on, no one really knew what those guys were doing fifty years ago. We still don't, apparently.\"\n\n\"Guess it happened. They left these poor cosmonauts stranded here. Christ, what a fate.\" Joey's helmet turned on its defogger as it detected tears. Sarah looked away at his display of emotion. \"Can you scan the butte over there? I see a little laser carved door. I guess that's where he lived,\" he added.\n\n\"No life forms. Just a small cave turned into a shelter. Picked up an RNG, guess he was using that for power and a few synthfood and synthair generators. I see the power packs of other suits. He's the last of them.\"\n\n\"Alone, after all these years. Christ, Sarah, this guy was probably our age when they flew him here.\"\n\nThey stared at the body before them. It laid peacefully with its blue eyes staring into the star laden sky.\n\n\"He was just a Russian kid they let rot here,\" Joey added. \"All alone. He lived long enough to see us and gave up the ghost.\"\n\nThey sat for a minute in the rover.\n\n\"We can forget about this,\" suggested Sarah. \"Just let him go. His home government didn't care about him and his parents and siblings are probably long dead. This will cause lots of grief between us and the East. NASA will scrutinized us to hell and back and AASC will sure as hell deny it, if not accuse us of sabotage or murder. We'll be political liabilities then and they'll never let us fly again.\"\n\nJoey nodded for a moment. \"No,\" he said, \"he deserves better.\" He tuned his radio to the main channel and activated the high gain antenna on the rover. A silverly ten foot mast topped with a tiny dish slowly raised itself from the rear of the rover. \"Phobos? Phobos can you hear us?\"\n\nThe radio responded, \"Phobos here, what's up guys?\"\n\n\"Request use of Argo's bot for an hour to this site.\"\n\nThere was a long pause.\n\n\"Phobos back, sorry for the delay. So.. what for? Command needs to know.\"\n\nJoey took a deep breath and exhaled.\n\n\"Request a proper burial for a lost cosmonaut team here. Four or five. Failed Venus mission we're guessing from 2040 or so.\"\n\nAnother long pause. Sarah held his hand and he smiled at her.\n\n\"Uh, Venus, let me relay this to my supervisors and get back to you.\"\n\nThey sat in the rover for the next hour waiting for the bot to arrive. They didn't speak as the black Mark III mech began burying the bodies in a neat row creating a small ersatz cemetery. It then burned \"Lost Cosmonauts ????-2098 Ad Astra\" on a nearby rock with a focused maser drill.\n\nThey didn't watch nor did they answer their radios. They just sat there watching the stars twinkle in the Venusian sky." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You are a person who regularly browses the online community called \"Writing Prompts\", a board where people post intriguing scenarios to inspire creative pieces. One day, you notice a writing prompt that exactly describes a scenario that you distinctly remember." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I need you to upvote this. Okay? I'm not trying to be pathetic here. Normally I don't care about fake internet points. But this is important. This is life and death. You're going to have a hard time believing me, but this is what's happening...\n\nIt started ten days ago.\n\nAt that point I'd only been writing here a little while. I love writing, but it's hard sometimes to get yourself to do it. Too many other distractions. Too many things that are just easier to do. But I like Writing Prompts. It feels like a challenge. Plus, there's this little mental countdown clock that appears in my brain once I commit to a prompt. Like, I've got to finish quick before I'm buried by all the other great responses.\n\nAnyway, I'd barely been at it when I saw a prompt: \"You get a call from a HR rep. Your ex, who recently dumped you, has listed you as a character reference.\"\n\nYou may have seen the prompt, too. Anyway, that's something that actually happened to me, and not that long ago. In my case, my girlfriend had apparently been cheating on me for awhile and was just waiting for the right moment to split. But in the meantime, she hadn't bothered to update her resume and remove my contact info.\n\nIt was her dream job, too, and I knew it. I gave her a great recommendation. I felt too cowardly to do anything else. She got the job.\n\nBut that was real life. When I saw the prompt I thought to myself, \"Here's what I SHOULD have done.\" In the prompt response I also gush about my ex to the HR rep, but I illustrate her positive qualities with these comically horrible stories. Like, I show how brave she is by talking about the time she smuggled heroin across the US/Mexican border. Or, I talk about her determination and toughness and use the story of the first time we tried anal.\n\nIt was an okay story and it got a nice little collection of upvotes.\n\nThat would have been the end of it, if I hadn't gone to Whole Foods the next day. Because there she was, working the register.\n\nI asked what she was doing there. Was it a second job or something? No. It was her only job. I asked about the dream job. She said she'd had an interview, but then never heard back from them.\n\nI went home assuming I'd misremembered a lot of things. The break-up had been hard on me. That whole period was a blur.\n\nThat night I found another prompt: \"You find a strange briefcase outside your front door one morning...\"\n\nYou see, that's happened, too. And in real life there was no story. I assumed it was a neighbor's and ignored it. When I came home that night it was gone.\n\nBut in my prompt response...well, my fiction was a hell of a lot more interesting than my reality. There was cash and a gun inside the briefcase. And a cell phone. And a lot of shit happened. I went way past the character limit on that one. Dead bodies. Sex. You name it. And it all ended in a suite at The Palms in Vegas.\n\nBut here's the thing - the next morning? I woke up and I was at The Palms. I was in the suite. There with the cash and two girls I thought could only ever exist in my mind. And the phone rang and when I picked up, a voice said, \"They're coming.\"\n\nI left the room. Took the cash. Left the gun (I've never shot a gun in my life). Valet service brought me my car and I drove. Drove out of Vegas. Into the desert. I thought it was all a dream. But it wasn't. It isn't.\n\nI was following the signs to Los Angeles because I didn't know what else to do. Halfway there I started to notice the smell. I pulled into the back of an Exxon and popped the trunk. Dead body. Just like in my story.\n\nI stopped in Barstow and found the local library. Got online and found it. A prompt: \"You're driving through the desert with a dead body in the trunk and a pair of trained hitmen on your trail. They're closing in...\"\n\nI tried to write it away. The hitmen lost the scent. The body disappeared. I end up back home. It was all a dream.\n\nBut I guess it wasn't a good enough story. I got one or two upvotes. Apparently that's not enough.\n\nBecause they're still after me.\n\nI went west, towards Bakersfield. The body is ripe now, just boiling away in the trunk. I saw the men, the guys following me. In Mojave they almost got me.\n\nI used some of the money to buy a kid's laptop. And here I am, trying again. This is my story:\n\nIt never happened. None of it ever happened. I was home this whole time. My ex got her job. I walked past the briefcase.\n\nIt never happened.\n\nPlease. I don't care if you like this story. I don't care if you ever vote for anything I ever do again. I can't imagine if I survive this I'll even have the stomach for fiction.\n\nJust upvote. Just a few. Please.\n\nI can't run forever." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: The gods have decided to gift you with superhuman strength. The gods being cruel, however, chose to give it to you at the worst possible time." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gideon sighed. He knew today would be just another accident, another mishap, another fuck-up. Just like every other day.\n\nHe couldn't explain how he did any of the things he did. Like tearing through the wall on the second floor of his office building. Or breaking off the driver's side door of his rental car. Or that one time that he had broken four of a man's fingers by shaking his hand.\n\nHe got onto his bicycle and headed to work. He contemplated his morning: he had woken up, eaten a single bowl of Frosted Flakes (he had loved them since childhood), and brushed his teeth. He hadn't broken his alarm clock, he didn't break his cereal bowl, and he didn't accidentally knock out any of his teeth.\n\nToday's incident was still coming.\n\nEvery day since his first accident, Gideon got five seconds of incredible strength - not a bad gift for a man barely weighing in at 110 pounds. However, these five seconds could happen at any time of the day, and with no warning.\n\nGideon thought about his sleep. He hadn't bitten off his tongue last night, he hadn't broken any bones, and his bed remained intact. His earlier verdict stood.\n\nToday's incident was still coming.\n\nHe tried everything to prepare for it. Once he simply tried avoiding manual labor. If he didn't put any force into his work, he couldn't break anything, right? Wrong. That day several of his computer keys ended up smashed into bits into their circuit board.\n\nHe tried again another day, this time only doing manual labor. If he tired himself out, maybe the strength wouldn't help him, as his muscles would already be spent. This theory was disproved when he tried to open a box and accidentally shoved a box cutter all the way through, cutting open all of its contents, and nearly stabbing Jerry.\n\nOnce more he tried, asking his boss to only run jobs involving talking to people. No one could get hurt by his voice, after all. Strength didn't affect that. He made it to five o'clock without and incident; but when he left, he ripped the time clock off the wall.\n\nIt never failed to cause one incident per day.\n\nToday's incident was still coming.\n\nGideon clocked into work, carefully sliding his card into the slot. He walked to his desk equally carefully, and sat down equally carefully. He always worried that the next accident would be the one that got him fired, or worse.\n\nGideon wished everyone else would talk to him.\n\nHe remembered one more incident.\n\nA month ago, he had taken his father's .45 pistol and shot himself. On that day, his strength kicked in immediately, and stopped the bullet. He cried that day, more than usual.\n\nWorking his usual shift was refreshingly uneventful. There were no accidents, no injuries, no problems.\n\nHe would have thanked God if he didn't blame Him for this.\n\nBut his incident was still coming.\n\nAs he rode his bike home, he wondered what would happen tonight. Surely something terrible, probably an injury. He took the same shortcut through an alley, leading to the main road. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bus careened into the sidewalk. He barely had time to get off his bicycle when it hit him. And when it hit him, he pushed back.\n\nFour and a half seconds later, his strength subsided. He picked up his bike and quickly rode home. He was glad the bike wasn't damaged.\n\nGideon walked through the door an into his apartment. He had finally used his power for something good. He had saved lives. He had done it.\n\nHe sat down, and turned on the news.\n\n\"BREAKING NEWS: CYCLIST CRASHES INTO BUS, KILLING EIGHT PASSENGERS. HOW HE SURVIVED AND WHERE HE WENT ARE UNKNOWN.\"\n\nGideon didn't cry. He only sighed. He walked to his safe, pulled out the .45 pistol, and put in one bullet.\n\nHis strength wouldn't save him this time." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Four quadruplets are born into this world wielding the powers of the Four Horsemen, intending to bring the apocalypse. You are their preschool teacher, trying everyday to prevent it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Four year olds were a handful as it is, put twenty of them together and it’s enough to turn your hair grey. But I love it, yeah kids can be bratty but they can also be sweet and wholesome and wonderful. Plus when they are this young you can teach them all sorts of good manners and behaviors for when they grow up.\n\nBut lord help me, this years class is something else. I have some particular trouble makers that just seem to have it out for me and my nerves. The other day one of them was goading two of the other kids to fight each other. It’s like he knew all he had to say was that one of the kids dad could beat up the other one. And they started fighting as he stood there pointing and laughing. I had to tell him it’s not nice to make others fight and certainly not laugh about it when they do. I’m not sure he learned his lesson but he said he will think about it.\n\nAnd then another one of the little monsters was found stealing snacks out of the kids cubbies. Have you ever dealt with hungry kids...my god. We couldn’t find the goldfish or chicken nuggets or any of the food. This little one had hoarded it all and thrown it away. The tantrums we had that day. Since then I’ve gotten him as my little helper to clean the fridge daily. He only throws away expired or rotten food. He seems happier but I can see he really just wants to throw away all of it.\n\nNow all four year olds are germ monsters but this little dude takes the cake. You never want to have the smelliest kid in the class and this kid was the smelliest of any kid I had ever had. He definitely took pleasure in getting the other kids to eat dirt or roll in some unpleasantness left by animals in the yard. It’s amazing how many kids have had to take sick days because he talked them into eating or licking something. Not that it’s hard since kids will eat or lick just about anything. We have had to implement a big hand sanitizer policy for this one. The school janitor said he’d be willing to help out since I was clearly in over my head with this class. So he takes the guy out on cleaning trips and gets him to help point out messes or sickly spots. Said the kids has a natural affinity for finding hot spots of sickness.\n\nAnd then there was their last little brother. Definitely the leader of this squadron of stress. He was a complete and utter angel. Always helpful and friendly. It’s a shock he is from the same brood as those other three. He does have a weird habit though. He stares for long periods of time during grandparents visit. It’s like he can’t take his eyes off the old people. We told him it’s impolite to stare and he has gotten better about it. In fact the grandparents love to visit when he is there. They say he is just the most polite young man. You don’t hear that about many four year olds. But weirdly this class has lost a lot of grandparents. I’ve never had a class with so many funerals. But what can you do. He was really great at consoling the other kids.\n\nAnd then their dad, Mr. Filruce, would show up. Now this man was so put together and handsome. It was unbelievable that he had time to wear tailored suits, look immaculate, and take care of three practically demon spawn and one little helper. I don’t know how he did it. But once he showed up those kids fell in line and followed him home. He never seemed to mind when I told him his kids acted up or got in trouble. He just said kids will be kids, and left for another day.\n\nOnly eight months left of this class. I can do this!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: The Brothel's new \"you breed it you buy it\" policy was supposed to discourage getting the girls pregnant and save on medical bills, but the result was girls trying to get their favorite clients to impregnate them so they can escape the brothel." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Blooming Lantana was the fanciest brothel in the city of Mizerka, on the Western Silver Coast, it was a place of great wealth and great circumstance. Every year hundreds thousands of different people of different species, races, and professions all came into and out of the city. The Blooming Lantana, however, saw very few of those people. it was a place of restricted access, of pomp and pleasure. The women were as varied as the moon, from younger for the unsavory types, to elderly. From skinny and slender with curves in the right places, to nigh on plump women. Elves, Orcish folk, various varieties of Human. Whatever was to the taste of the visitor, the Blooming Lantana was sure to have.\n\nPreviously, the brothel had spent thousands of Mizerkan Duchets every year on contraceptives and abortive potions from the various alchemical and medical guilds in the cities. It was a serious drain on the Lantana's finances, and even though they made quite the amount of coin, with wages to pay towards the freedom of her girls, the Matron was bringing home less and less coin every month for herself. That was when she'd instituted the damn policy that would drive the Blooming Lantana out of business.\n\n'You breed it, you buy it.'\n\nShe'd gotten that cast in gold, and hung in huge letters upon the walls of the entryway to the brothel. A warning. She wasn't going to lose out on so much valuable coin anymore, and she'd be damned if these girls would fleece her any further. It had started within a fortnight. She'd had a girl, Ilyria. She was one of the Matron's more picky girls, and she charged quite the price. Redheaded, with skin as fair as a winter's snow, short with hips that longed to bear children and thighs that could crush a man's skull, and petite breasts. It wasn't simply her look that caught then men's eyes, but also her demeanor. Confident, but alluring, and teasing with just a glance. One of her favorite clientele was the leader of an Elvish warband, renown for both their skill in arms and their loyalty to their employers. They were disciplined and direct, and their leader was this lean man, with the body like an otter or wildcat. He saw Ilyria most often, and when he'd laid his seed in her once more, the woman practically skipped down the stairs to announce it to the Matron.\n\nIt had earned the Matron a sizable stack of duchets, and that was before the seed had even stopped dripping out of the girl. From there, it would only snowball. Despite the pomp of the place, the Matron was know for three things: her management of the brothel, her skill in her days as one of the girls, and her cruelty. Next came a rich merchant and Tiffani; a woman as tall as any man and skin as dark as wood of the ship she'd arrived on, with ample breasts and a physique that could rival any of the militia guards of the city. It hadn't taken her long to follow in Ilyria's footsteps, as she'd been there to see the smug look on the other's face after being purchased. The merchant, Leader of the Swordsmithing guild, wasn't a bad man. He hired Tiffani often simply to have someone who would listen to him, and wouldn't only seek his approval in things in search of gain, and the fact she'd dominate the small, pathetic man wasn't awful either.\n\nThese sorts of things have an effect like a cascade. Every other girl in the brothel was practically hunting down their favorite clients; letters being sent out, showing up to personally invite them back to the establishment. Some girls encourage the infamous mating press and would lock their legs around the man as his face was buried in her neck, and his cock was buried deep within her. Each girl had their ways. One named Vale hadn't even let the young noble, who'd come to visit the city and shower her with gifts, get up the stairs before his cock was out and fucking her leaning over the railing of the stairs. In a few short weeks, the girls were bringing in swaths of coin to the Matron's coffers, and every week, the steady stream of coin was dwindling to a trickle. Within two months, each girl was gone, and the once infamous Blooming Lantana was shuttering her doors once and for all." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Those born on the night of a blood moon are said to gain amazing abilities and are destined to do great things. You were born during a blue moon. The legends about the people like you are more… terrifying." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I slumped against the wall, leaving a bloody trail on the worn bricks. The young man in front of me went pale, looking down at the smoking gun and back to me. \"I-I didn't... I didn't mean to-\"\n\nI inhaled sharply, my eyes glowing a bloody red. My body floated upwards, like a puppet on a string, and the young man leapt back, losing what little color he had in his face.\n\n\"W-What the hell?!\" He cried out, dropping the gun. I stuck out my hand and a tendril of blood crept from the hole in my chest down my wrist and stretched towards the gun. It delicately picked it up and held it in front of the man. \"You know...\" I said, creaking my neck until it satisfyingly cracked. \"If you're going to kill me, then follow through. You totally missed my vitals.\"\n\nThe man looked down at the gun with terrified eyes, then back at me. He screamed and ran down the alley way and back into the brightly lit street, his yells echoing around the buildings. I laughed to myself and pulled my shirt back, watching the hole in my chest close up, leaving no scars.\n\nI gestured towards the wall, the blood coagulating and forming a thick orb of liquid, floating near my head. It sunk into my hair, blending in with its natural maroon color. I did the same with my shirt, using a small strand to sew the hole shut. I gathered my wallet and keys, which the mugger had abandoned in his escape. I then strutted down the street, making my way back to my apartment.\n\nI fumbled with my keys at my door, trying to find the right one to enter my home. \"Oh, hey Alex!\" A familiar voice rang out, the tones like a song. I glanced over and saw my neighbor, Lani, carrying a bag of groceries. \"Do you mind giving me a hand?\" She asked, an embarrassed smile spreading across her face. I waved my hand and a thin tendril of blood streaked out from between my finger nails. Lani gratefully put her groceries on it as she rummaged through her pockets. After a moment she pulled out her keys, opened her door and took back the bags. \"Thanks, A! You're a sweet heart!\" I shrugged, a blush spreading up my neck. Finally, I found my keys and made my way inside.\n\nI flipped my light switch and found that the light wouldn't turn on, which was more common than you'd think. I sighed and stuck out my hand, a thin saber of blood forming in my hand. \"Taking out my light bulbs is too cliché, man. People like you should really break the mold and try something new to intimidate people.\" A thin figure stepped out of the darkness, shadows melting around their body.\n\n\"Hello, monster.\" The figure was a woman, her fit body covered in various weapons. She took out a pistol and leveled it at me, all within the span of a second. \"You've killed enough innocents. This will be your death bed.\"\n\nI looked around, raising an eyebrow. \"What? Monster? The only monster I see is the hunter in front of me.\" She fired at me and I swung my blade, deflecting the bullet into the wall. Drywall flaked off it as I leveled my blade at the monster hunter. \"Try again,\" I taunted, a smirk forming on my face. The woman growled and pulled out another pistol, unloading two full clips at me. I deflected all of them, and by the time the two guns clicked empty my walls and ceiling looked like a shitty public road.\n\n\"Anyways,\" I nonchalantly said, forming a second blade out of my blood. \"Time you get serious, right Shadow Walker?\" The woman stopped reloading her guns and stared at me. \"Wait... how do you know what I am?\"\n\n\"Pretty easy to figure out. After all, most hunter organizations hire blood mooners as monster hunters. And there are only 3 subsets of blood mooners: Shadow Walkers, the warrior class, Psychics, the interregators, and the Elven, the crowd controllers. However, there are no two blue mooners, like myself, that have the same powers.\"\n\nThe woman grit her teeth then smiled, shadows whirling around her menacingly. \"Oh, but we have intel on you. We know you control your blood to form weapons and survive almost impossible wounds. However, even you have your limits.\" At this she slashed out a tentacle of shadows, and it consumed the blood sabers I held in my hands. I reformed them immediately, jumping back to avoid a swipe from another tendril.\n\n\"And your weakness,\" she continued as she kept the pressure on, destroying any blood weapons I could make. \"Is that you only have so much blood.\" I gasped as a tendril swiped a huge gash into my stomach, which was healed almost immediately. I slammed my hand down and a spike of blood stabbed underneath the hunter, leaving a shallow scratch on her shoulder. She swept both of her hands out and shadows boiled out of her slamming me against the wall. \"Enough!\" She screamed, her face twisting into a visage of rage. She put a trembling hand up to her shoulder, a thin trickle of blood leaking down her arm.\n\n\"Never in my life,\" she whispered, gripping her hand and shaking in rage. \"Have I been so humiliated. I will make an example out of you.\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah,\" I said, waving my hand to dismiss her. \"Next you'll say that I'll spend eternity wishing I was dead, and that I'll beg for you to kill me, yada yada. But let me tell YOU something, Miss Hot-Topic Wannabe.\" My eyes glowed bright red, lighting up the darkness around me. \"Your information was incomplete. It's not just MY blood I can control.\"\n\nThe woman stumbled, a confused look on her face. \"W-What? What are you...\" She retched, blood leaking out of her mouth and nose in massive amounts. She gripped her head as her eyes turned red. She dropped to the ground, shuddering as the blood around her boiled, forming a red mist. Suddenly, her body combusted and left nothing but a few stains of blood.\n\nI got a knock on my door, Lani's voice coming through my door. \"A, you okay? I heard someone screaming.\" I walked over and opened to door to see Lani holding a severed head, half of its flesh ripped away. I could see a bit of flesh hanging out of her mouth, which she quickly sucked into her mouth. \"Sorry A, I was eating.\"\n\n\"Eh, it's fine.\" I said, shrugging. \"Ghouls gotta eat too. As for the issue in here... just another hunter. I'm just glad she met me and not some of the other blue mooners in the building.\" Lani laughed, sharp teeth gleaming in the fluorescent light of the hallway. \"Yeah, I would have ripped her apart. Need some new bulbs for the apartment?\" I looked back and watched amusedly as a piece of ceiling fell down, leaving a massive hole in the ceiling.\n\n\"Yeah, and a repair man.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: The town was just somewhere you stopped on your way somewhere else." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The town was just somewhere she stopped to refuel. She had been driving for days on end, hardly getting any sleep along the way. She had driven over her phone when it wouldn't stop ringing, then reversed over it for good measure.\n\nInside the gas station, a young man had smiled at her, not asking any questions when she paid him with shaking hands. He asked her if she had a place to stay and insisted he put her up for the night. She had planned to stay for a week, getting her act together, cutting all ties from her previous life. She spent many days pacing, her heels clicking against the tiles of his kitchen, on hold or yelling at a machine-operated voice.\n\nA week became a month and she got a job in order to pay Jim back. He had shaken his head at her offer of money, so she had decided to save up, get him something really nice, before she moved on. He had told her that as long as she help up her end of the chores, she could stay as long as she needed, despite struggling to support them both. She chipped in where she could.\n\nSix months passed before she realised and Jim asked her out for coffee. She agreed with some hesitance - she had already stayed so much longer than she had planned. He was a sweet man, with kind, round cheeks and sparkling eyes - quite dashing, in his own way. She opened up with him a bit, spoke to him about her manipulative mother, absent father and abusive husband.\n\nThe town was small, but self-sufficient. Nothing special, just adequate. The more time she spent there, the less she wanted to run. Some days passed where she would watch the local children play together happily, wondering what had happened to the life she had led and loved.\n\nA year to the day since she arrived, and Jim proposed. A small part of her rose up in fear and anxiety, and for a moment she wanted to bolt, to get in her beat up car, cut the brakes and stomp on the accelerator. But there was a faith in his eyes that created a warm glow that smothered the cold and she accepted.\n\nFive years, and they had had a daughter. She was pregnant with a second child, and considered the point in their lives when it would be most acceptable to slip away quietly. Obviously, while they were still on the breast, it would not do. At times she found herself packing, unpacking and repacking her bags, pacing along those same floors, retracing her steps from years past.\n\nThere was never a time when she realised that she would never leave the town. It was a gradual knowledge, the urge to run dimming ever so slightly with each passing year. Her itchy feet never abated, even after Jim offered to run away with her, start all over again. She knew in her soul that he couldn't - he had just been offered his dream job and they couldn't afford to start over.\n\nAfter Jim died, earlier than expected, she resumed her packing and pacing. She was getting older, her children were older. If she could run away now... She got as far as the post office before she ran a red and just barely survived a head on collision. Her youngest, Owen, who had inherited her heterochromia, came home when he heard and cared for her for years, until he met a lady and had a family of his own. They lived just a block away.\n\nAs she reached her seventies, there were more and more occasions where she would sit on the porch, waiting for Jim to come home from work. Some nights she stayed out there until the sun came back up, worrying and tugging at her whitened hair. Sometimes she went out, to the pub he used to frequent, asking the unfamiliar man where her husband was. He would shrug and sometimes yell at her, once threatening to call the police.\n\nOn this particular occasion, she had been escorted home by a rather handsome young man. He had one brown eye and one green, and she had thought it rather strange. He had taken her by the hand and led her home, used her keys to unlock the house and tucked her into bed. It had been sweet of him, she mumbled, as she had never planned to stay here. She was just passing through, refuelling, running from her ex.\n\nOwen knew his mother's story, knew she had never planned to stay, and as he looked down at her small, prone form in the bed she had once shared with his father, he understood that this town was just a place she had stopped temporarily on her journey towards death." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You are Keith, the best wingman in the history of wingmans. After you die the Grim Reaper offers you an arrangement. If you could hook up Grim with the girl of his dreams he will let your soul go to Heaven" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“So this is where all the immortal supernatural creatures hang out?” I asked Death as we walked into what appeared to be a regular bar. In fact, it was indistinguishable from any other bar I had ever been to, with the exception of the clientele. From wall to wall, the otherworldly demons and monsters quietly chatted amongst themselves.\n\n“More or less,” Death replied nonchalantly as we walked up to the bar. The bar tender, an all-black humanoid creature with ten tentacles stretched from its back asked Death if he wanted the usual. He replied that he wanted two. The monster brought back two shot glasses of some green liquid that smelled like battery acid and were garnished with a toothpick through an eyeball. I decided to skip the drink.\n\n“So what are we in for today?” I asked, gesturing to the throng of monsters our way. “Are you a claw or pincer guy? Oh, maybe we can find a nice succubus…”\n\n“No, no,” replied Death. “Succubae aren’t exactly notorious for good relationship habits. I’m just looking for someone who’s willing to put up a bony body and my demanding hours.”\n\n“That reminds me,” I questioned. “If you’re here, are people dying on earth?”\n\n“Eh,” Death replied. “I can allow a few miracles on earth. Work like balance and what not.”\n\nI shrugged as I scanned the crowd before Death tugged at my shirt.\n\n“Her,” he told me as he pointed to a scaly, mousy looking creature, complete with a long tail. “I see her come in every century.”\n\n“Say no more,” I responded as I hopped out of my seat and made my approach. As I did a repugnant spell of dead fish and fertilizer hit me, which I quickly ascertained to be from Death’s crush. I wondered briefly if he really wanted to tap this ass, but the bastard doesn’t have a nose, so what does he care?\n\n“Excuse me,” I greeted her. “I can’t help but have noticed your…scales from across the room.”\n\n“Oh,” she blushed. “I’m glad you like them. Usually my friends tell me I need to polish them more.”\n\nThe conversation went on as I held my breath, because, hey, I’m dead. It’s not like I can suffocate to more death. I flirted the best I could to a minimal degree, making note of her tail and fins, while maintaining a friendly demeanor. Then I found the perfect opportunity to introduce Grim.\n\n“You have to meet him,” I said as I waved Death over. “You’ll love him.”\n\n“Hello,” Death introduced himself. “Everything I touch dies.”\n\nI silently screamed with the torment of soul bound for Hell until this mousy figure actually laughed and called him quite the charmer. Carefully, I played off of Death’s level of conversation and with mathematical precision slowly eased myself out of the conversation as Death worked his way into it. Before I knew it, the two were talking and laughing the night away. I decided a celebration was in order.\n\n“Hey guys,” I began. “I’m going to the bar. You two try not to have too much fun without me.”\n\nI walked back to the bar and ordered a Bloody Mary, which in turn was answered with a dirty look from a pale, ghostly figure on the other side of the bar who may have been actually Bloody Mary. The bar tender brought me back a tall glass of what smelled and tasted like sheep’s blood, but I decided it was close enough. I looked back on Death and his girl as I sipped my drink and took pride in my final, ultimate wingman act." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: you got high yesterday and decided it would be funny to create and post a conspiracy theory. It turned out to be true and They are after you" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "'J, I been knowing you since third grade.' Mike drew in a smaller breath this time. And handed back the dro.\n\n'Yeah.' Said James. 'What that gotta do with anything'\n\nThe conversation lagged a bit as james, never the type to go easy, pulled a big draw from the now almost gone hashish.\n\n'Thats got to be the stupidest thing I have ever heard you say is what.'\n\nJames looked hurt- but only for a second, as a wide grim split his face. He only barely choked out the words\n\n'What about sixth grade Mrs.-' here he stumbled back into laughter and Mike found himself carried along. But he got the name out. 'Mrs Patterson! Boy you was so stupid!' But they coughed and laughed well into six or seven minutes. Each almost recovering before a fresh wave of giggles erupted. It wasn't until the door opened and another man in a blue 'Addy' hoodie and jeans walked in. In his hands were several large grocery bags and an opened case of beer. He noted the companions but took more interest in the haze that surrounded them both.\n\n'You got more than that right?' he asked. Clearly referring to the smoke.\n\n'Yeah, yeah, we got you.' Mike answered. 'You got them chips?' The newcomer smiled 'yeah I got them and one better. What ch'all giggling about anyway?'\n\n'Drew,' Mike said, threatening to explode in laughter again. ' You remember Mrs. Patterson back in sixth grade?'\n\n'I remember this fool on his knees with a candy ring pop trying to get her to marry him'\n\n'Hey man I was 12. I was young.'\n\n'You were stupid.' Mike shot back.\n\n'Man we were ALL stupid back then, you remember Vaughn?'\n\nJames turned away but brought out a fresh blunt so neither man ribbed him too hard after that. They worked through the smoke and a bag of the ripple chips Drew liked.\n\n'You know Vaughn posts ish on the web now?'\n\n'I know, that's what I did last week' James said getting up to grab another bag.\n\n'You did Vaughn?'\n\n'Hell no, stupid, I did his webcast I told him my theory'\n\n'What theory?' Drew asked.\n\n'You gonna love this, go ahead J'\n\nJames didn't respond. He had spotted the brownies Drew had left in the grocery bag. ' You got brownies Bro?'\n\n'Yeah. but not that kind.' he added.\n\n'I don't care, man I'm getting some'.\n\n'Tell him 'bout the cows J.'\n\n'Cows?'\n\n'Yeah, yeah. Its a gang war.' James said. Reaching into the drawer under the counter window for a butter knife.\n\nFor an apartment this small the kitchen shared space with the living room. James hardly had to leave the couch for milk. And you can't have brownies without milk.'\n\n'What's a gang war?' Drew pressed. Taking a pretty good pull before settling back on the couch.\n\n'This fool says crop circles are gang graffiti for cow turf wars.'\n\nDrew snickered. 'Seriously?'\n\n'And all them cattle mutilations they report are \"fly bys'. Cows are flying the U.F.O.s man!'\n\nDrew lost it, Mike was well on his way to losing it again when J dropped the carton.\n\nThe laughter stopped as they noticed James frozen looking out the kitchen window into the back yard. A look of horror was plastered there. Mike moved to grab the still leaking carton off the floor.\n\nThat's when he noticed Vaughn's smiling face on the carton. He didn't notice James was still staring out the window into the back yard, at the cow silently watching them." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: A future where women wearing clothes is against the law. The exception is that they are allowed to wear shirts belonging to the men they’ve slept with." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Emma was sitting in the lounge area of the university's chemistry building, trying to go over some organic reactions for the next lecture of her first-year course. She was feeling distracted. Her legs were crossed and pressed together tightly, which made it tricky to balance the heavy textbook on a bare thigh. Also, whenever she glanced down at the text, there were her own bare breasts at the bottom of the field of vision.\n\nShe wasn't yet completely used to being affected by the nudity laws. She had turned eighteen two months ago, and she put off getting her maturity mark for a couple of weeks, until the visit of the inspector from the census office. He was very understanding, and even waived the fine, but she had to strip there and then, and sit patiently at her kitchen table while he tattooed her with the little black heart in the middle of her forehead. Her closet was emptied, and its contents confiscated. And that was that.\n\nSince then, it felt like one extended walk of shame. People who had never seen you naked would get their first eyefuls. Endless knowing smiles, comments and jokes. She would never forget the first time she went out naked to the corner store. Jovial old Mr Singh behind the counter congratulated her loudly the moment she walked in, and of course drew all the attention to her. And she had to switch from pads to the tampons she'd never liked. It was one thing after another.\n\nWhatever. She'd find some guy soon enough. She was putting that off for too long, too.\n\nShe heard noise and voices. A bunch of students were filing out of the lecture hall, and she checked the crowd for anyone she knew. She spotted Madison, a girl she met a few times in the labs. They got along well.\n\n\"Mads! Mads!\" she waved rapidly. Madison spotted her and broke off from the crowd.\n\n\"Hey, Emma.\" she sat down beside her, sprawling on the lounge couch. \"Goddd, that was boring.\"\n\n\"What was it?\" Emma glanced at Madison's open legs, and felt envious of the other young woman's relaxed attitude.\n\n\"Organic. I don't remember a single thing, I'll just have to read the notes.\"\n\n\"Heyyy, wait a minute!\" Emma noticed something. \"Whose shirt is that?\"\n\nMadison was wearing a cream-coloured button-up shirt, very different from the black thing with the metal band logo that Emma saw her in the first few times.\n\n\"It's Gerard's,\" she smiled and jiggled her shoulders. \"Yeah, we did it last night.\"\n\n\"Ohhh.\" Emma grinned. \"So what happened to the other guy? I don't think I've ever met him?\"\n\n\"Tommo? We still talk, but like, it was never a serious thing?\" Madison adjusted the shirt's collar. \"So I've got three shirts total now. Oh! Did you read about the statute of limitations?\"\n\n\"No?\" Emma closed her textbook.\n\n\"So apparently they're making it so you had to sleep with a guy in the past year to keep the shirt. No more slut closets.\"\n\n\"I mean, there are still going to be slut closets, just for more active sluts.\" Emma laughed, and Madison giggled with her.\n\n\"It's kind of sad, though, cause like. It's a nice souvenir from a good relationship. You look at the shirt, you remember the good times...\"\n\n\"I still need a shirt in the first place,\" Emma said.\n\n\"Well, get busy. Busy-busy. Work that coochie!\" Madison elbowed Emma. \"Oh my god, speaking of. You know Sirra? You know what she did?\"\n\n\"I literally don't know anyone.\" Emma shook her head. \"I know like. You. Gerard. Michelle. Fu-Su. I've talked to the Russian girl, Irina? I think that's her name.\"\n\n\"Okay, so, she went down to the office with I think twenty guys.\" Madison was excited to tell the tale. \"Gerard told me, he was part of it. It was before we slept together. And she literally staged a gangbang right there. Bent over with her ass to the clerk and took them all one after the other. And she tied the shirts together into this weird dress like thing that she's wearing now.\"\n\n\"Wow. And I just need one,\" Emma laughed, a little uneasily.\n\n\"Well listen, I got to go but like. Take your time. Whatever. Nobody cares.\" Madison gathered up her textbook. \"So many tits on display no one's looking at yours.\"\n\n\"Yeah...\" Emma said, unconvinced. She crossed her legs the other way. \"Later!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You haven’t been doing too well lately, and demons have been trying to buy your soul more and more frequently. You decide to let them rent your soul instead." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You wonder if the process of 'renting' a soul would be worth it. A deal with the Devil has always been met with unfortunate circumstances. In any case, you could find yourself stuck in limbo, gazing at the possessed body either reaping the benefits of what you worked for, or destroying what little things you have.\n\nThey've been after you since you were born, always nagging at you, grabbing at you, talking to you. They have said your name in the darkness when you were alone and scared. Most religions you have heard about don't have demonic activity- as it was just mere tales- but whatever THIS is... it's constantly after you.\n\nPerhaps renting your soul could ease the harassment? Maybe they'd let up. Before long, after the deal has transpired, you could be back in your body as a new person. A better person. Your life has been falling apart, but perhaps after some time in the void, things could get better. You have to try it.\n\nYou reluctantly speak in tongues, letting the demonic presence know you're ready. Mere garble you spit, but for them, they now know you want attention. After a few minutes of this charade, you spot a figure staring at you when you look up.\n\nThe right side of its face is missing, and the body reminds you of a strange creature from movie. Perhaps the concoction was supposed to scare you.\n\n\"I've come to bargain a deal,\" you say, trembling.\n\n\"Deal? A deal?\" comes the voice, menacing, but curious.\n\n\"I've... decided that you can have my body for a price... it's... only short-term.\" you mutter, not looking directly at the being.\n\n\"What's that supposed to mean?\" It questions.\n\n\"My life... has been going downhill. I question my life and its direction. Perhaps if I had someone on the steering wheel... then maybe things could be better.\"\n\nThe demon looks at you with an indecipherable attitude.\n\n\"I've learned that you wish to... rent. My customs are not of your own, but if you wish to let me take your soul for a price... yes... a monthly price to fill the status.\" The demon closes its eyes and tries to take your soul from you here and now.\n\n\"No! No! Wait. You can have the soul for three months... that is that. I wish 10 thousand dollars per month!\" you quickly face-down the demon.\n\n\"You're easy. Here I thought you would request millions, but you ask for only $10 thousand... very well.\" The demon laughs.\n\nYour body begins to shake, you didn't think it would happen now, but it seems like you're already beginning to lose yourself. You don't know what's going to happen in the after-life. Hell, you never even asked. Foolish. You don't have any choice to back down now.\n\nA bright light is seen through your eyes, and you are purged into darkness. You see nothing for a while until you see some type of mirror. You walk over to the mirror in this form and see 'you' in the real-world. Through the mirror, you spot yourself walking around, milling about in your house.\n\nYou don't know what's going to happen, you don't know if your body will survive the torment of demonic possession, but you've got your $10 thousand for the month- and more to come. Done deal, demon.\n\nYou look into the mirror, and all other mirror systems throughout the house... waiting, watching, holding your breath. Until you realize you've made a mistake..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: When you die, you are given the chance to flip a coin. If you call the flip correctly, you are allowed to continue living, while resetting to the age of your choice. You’ve been doing this for a couple centuries now. Death is starting to get pissed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I remember the first time I died, I was an old man of 60 years. It was during the late 1500s and the plague was raging across the land. Dying felt like falling asleep but when I woke there was a strange robed man standing before me and in his outstretched hand was a coin.\n\n\"Greetings mortal\" he said in a raspy voice. \"I am death.\"\n\n\"Oh...\" I said. I wasn't too surprised, I had been sick with the plague after all. \"So am I off to my heavenly reward then? Or was I not good enough?\"\n\n\"Perhaps. Perhaps not.\" he replied. \"It depends on your luck.\"\n\nI was never what anyone would call lucky so I didn't get my hopes up.\n\n\"I will toss this coin into the air and you will guess what side lands face up. If you guess correctly, you will return to the land of the living at the age of your choosing. Choose incorrectly and I will take you to your afterlife.\"\n\n\"Alright, I choose heads\" I replied.\n\n\"Of course you can choose not to wager\" he continued.\n\n\"No, I'll try it. Heads please\" I answered.\n\nThe coin floated up in the air spinning and catching the light. When it fell to the ground I saw it was heads facing up.\n\n\"You win mortal. I will return you to the world. What age do you wish to be?\"\n\nI thought for a moment and then decided on the age of 17. It was a good age I thought, for I was still young and strong.\n\n\"Done.\" he said. And once again I fell asleep. When I awoke I was in a strange place and for a moment I thought maybe it was a dream. But after getting to my feet I realized that things were different. The chronic pain in my back and shoulders was gone and the skin of my arms was firm as it was in my youth. I ventured out into the world to forge a new life for myself.\n\nAnd a good life it was! The plague had ended and a new age of prosperity was to follow. I met a comely young lass and married her, and she gave me several fine sons. All was well and this time around I lived to be 70. Once again I awoke to see the strange man before me.\n\n\"Greetings mortal.\" he said. \"Care to try again?\" he asked holding up the coin.\n\n\"Oh hello again!\" I replied. \"Yes, I'll play.\"\n\nWith that he tossed the coin and this time I chose tails.\n\n\"You win again\" he said \"What age do you want to be?\"\n\nI replied that 17 was a good starting point for me last time, so I would choose it again. And with that I again woke in a strange place, my youth restored. But things were not as well this time around. There was a war brewing and the local lord had drafted all of the young men to be soldiers. I didn't last too terribly long, about a year later I was grievously wounded in battle and once more I awoke to death and his coin.\n\nAnother coin toss, another lucky guess. Death looked mildly annoyed but honored his bet. This time I chose the age of 30. Too old to be cannon fodder, yet still young enough to enjoy life. I met and married another woman, and started a successful business as a shop owner. My new wife did not give me any more children and worse still, she was unfaithful. This time my death was from syphilis.\n\nWhen I woke death was before me yet again. Gone were the tattered robes, now he was wearing a frock coat with lace cuffs and white stockings. Again he offered the coin.\n\n\"I remind you that you don't have to guess\" he said \"Your last two lives weren't exactly the best.\"\n\n\"Heads.\" I said.\n\n\"Very well.\" And I won yet again.\n\nI decided to return to my childhood this time, choosing the age of 5. Too young for war or women I thought, and this time around my life was largely uneventful. I was neither rich nor poor and avoided illness and war. I met my demise by a blow to my head from slipping on the wet cobblestones after an evening at the tavern.\n\nWhen I saw death again he looked visibly annoyed and tried once more to talk me out of playing, but I cut him short and said I would guess tails. He tossed the coin and again I won. I chose the age of 20 and once more I woke in my new body. I decided to go to the new world across the sea, unfortunately my ship sank during the voyage.\n\nI saw death several more times over the years, and each time I won the coin toss. Some of my lives were longer than others, and some of my deaths more tragic, but by then I was enthralled with the many changes that had taken place in the world. Life was in many ways easier than they were in my original time, but no less perilous. Over the centuries I have had several wives and multitudes of children. I once served in the military with my own great grandson from one of my former lives. It was hard not to tell him who I was, but the last time I made that mistake I was burned as a witch so I kept silent.\n\nI've lost count of how many times I've won the coin toss, but the last few times I noticed that death was becoming increasingly upset when he saw me. My last win he let loose with a torrent of expletives and sent me on my way. It's been a little over 500 years, some of them good and some bad - but the only constant has been death. I've started to consider him a friend and I feel bad that I'm making him upset.\n\nSo this time I've decided not to play." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You reach toward your sheath, and your blade grabs your hand. It can wield you as a deadly weapon." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sam had always wanted to be an explorer. To live life to the fullest, to climb mountains, to battle streams and creeks, to find lost tribes in the middle of a rainforest. The only problem was that Sam was a kitchen knife, and that his owner was Neil. And Neil, Sam thought to himself, would rather die than find even the smallest, most harmless tribe, provided, of course, that the death could be arranged on a couch in front of a TV.\n\nSam hated Neil with a passion. In his honest opinion, Neil was a bag of meat, and Sam despised meat. It was easy to despise meat. That was what made Sam good at his job.\n\n‘One day,’ he thought to himself, ‘one day the human will die. And then…’\n\nHe wasn’t sure what was going to happen then, but it was sure as hell more exciting than sitting in the kitchen sink for most of the year. Sam sighed. One day everything was going to change.\n\nThat day was a Thursday.\n\nOn that fateful day, Neil got himself a girlfriend. Sam wasn’t quite sure how it happened - after all, Neil did have the vocabulary and social skills of a spoon - until he had seen the girl himself. She was wild. Absolutely wild. Hair all over the place, excited like a little puppy who had seen the snow for the first time. Some people would describe her as borderline crazy. Not worth the effort to even try to approach in a bar. Sam found her rather attractive.\n\nNext Monday they were packing for Black Rock Desert, with Sam jumping up and down in the cupboard excitedly while no one was looking. Neil was rather less pleased. He had lost the argument in which he was trying to persuade the now love of his life to take apart a sofa and throw it in the car for convenience’s sake. The fact that they were going to take a plane did nothing to sway his mind. He kept arguing right until he was asked to help with the dismembering of the innocent looking sofa, at which point Neil remembered that he didn’t know how to hold a screwdriver.\n\nOn Tuesday, Neil was passing, or, rather, failing to pass through airport security. The problem was a knife in his handbag with kitchen utensils, water battles and a large watermelon.\n\nThe officer looked at the watermelon, the bottles, and then the knife. It was going to be a tough one, he thought as he watched Neil look around wildly, apparently trying to remember how he ended up in such a large and noisy building.\n\n‘Excuse me, sir. I’m afraid I’m going to have to confiscate the knife, sir. And the water bottles.’\n\n‘Sorry?’ said Neil. He wasn’t quite sure if the person behind the desk was actually speaking to him.\n\n‘I said, I am going to have to take the knife and the bottles away, sir. Can’t have that in the on-board luggage.’\n\nSam started shaking in blind rage. He couldn’t believe it. The one good trip that was going to happen to him in his life was suddenly being taken away from him. Neil blinked and reached forward, picking the knife from the counter.\n\n‘But it’s just a fruit knife’, he said sheepishly. ‘For the watermelon, sir’.\n\n‘I’m sorry. Rules are rules’.\n\nThat was it, Sam thought. He was going to show them all. He worked well and fair for the past ten years, cutting potatoes and onions, slicing up fish and poultry, and now he was suddenly a fruit knife?\n\nNeil was still holding the knife by the handle as Sam exploded with hatred that could only be compared to that of a cat. Or, rather, Sam was holding Neil by the hand as Neil screamed in fear feeling his arm jump up towards the man’s throat.\n\n‘You will let me through. Or you die’, Sam informed the officer. The next moment the room was very quiet, and the moment after that the room got very loud. The officer looked at Neil, then back at the knife, then at Neil again, and then nodded.\n\nSam smiled happily as Neil was boarding the plane amidst the screams of the other passengers who were trying to get out. He was going to be an explorer. He was still smiling as Neil was pinned to the floor by security. Screaming and kicking, he was freed from the knife in his hands. Sam felt being picked up, and then saw Neil lying on the floor with a bloody face and men standing around him.\n\nSomeone was holding Sam by the handle. Or, rather, Sam was holding someone by the hand.\n\nHe smiled to himself. No matter what he had to do, Sam was going to get on that plane. He was going to live his life to the fullest.\n\nAfter all, Sam was a meat knife." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You've lived your life as a farmer in the kingdom. You never had to worry about monsters until you find a goblin killing and eating your cattle. You kill it and a strange floating box appears in your vision. It says \"WELCOME NEW PLAYER!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yul followed behind his donkey, flicking a stock of wheat in his mouth. The animal tilled the soil grunting annoyance at the effort but Yul’s firm smack to it’s rear end reminded the beast who was in charge. Everyday was like this, boring. When he was a child he often dreamed that another war would start where he could earn glory and become a hero, but ever since the Players had arrived war seemed like an impossibility. With their insane powers and sense of duty and justice, their was no room for peasants like him to ascend to anything. The donkey screeched and tried to get the till off of it’s back as it’s nose flared and it’s eyes became beady.\n\nYul placed a hand on the animals snout and tried to calm it as he scanned the field. The cows in the next pasture were lowing in a panic as they scattered away from a sickly one that had collapsed in the middle of the field. Yul flicked the wheat from one side of his mouth to the other and hopped over the fence to see what the commotion was. His heart stopped as he heard the sounds of lips smacking and bones cracking. With blood smeared all across it’s face a goblin popped it’s head up from behind the cow’s carcass and snarled it’s blood soaked teeth at the boy and he fell over in a panic. His jaw clenched and the wheat snapped out of his mouth as he scrambled back to his feet. The monster was annoyed by the disturbance of it’s meal and decided to rush forward at the boy.\n\nYul turned to run but his panic made his limbs flail like he had forgotten how to use them. The monster jumped onto his back, the claws digging into his flesh. He yelped in pain and jerked his body to the side flinging the monster off his back and onto the ground. It quickly got up and raised it’s claws like weapons and leapt at him again.\n\nRefusing to be a casualty to the monster invasion, Yul pulled the shovel from his hip and lodged it into the enraged monsters mouth. it’s fangs gnawed at the wood, trying to force it’s way to his throat, but Yul wouldn’t have it. He yanked the shovel back and forth and flung the monster off of him. A sharp tooth got stuck in the rod of the shovel and the goblin yelped in pain. But Yul wasn’t about to wait for it to recover and sliced his shovel into the side of the monsters head. The beast wailed and Yul felt a short moment of sympathy for the goblin. He gritted his teeth and reminded himself of the horrors the monsters caused before the arrival of the players and stabbed his shovel down one more time. The goblin reached it’s hand up as the life flickered out of it’s eyes. Blood gurgled at the side of it’s mouth and it’s outstretched limbs went limp.\n\nYul fell to the dirt and plucked a grain of wheat to place back into his mouth. A strange chime sounded inside of his head to the tune of a brass band and a square popped up into his vision.\n\n“Congratulations! You have reached Level One. Welcome to the path of a hero new Player. You have unspent skill points, would you like to allocate them now?”\n\nYul blinked in confusion at the ‘yes’ button. This triggered a new square to pop up, with his own name and a series of stats with numbers next to them. He felt like the square was mocking him with his single digit intellegence stat so he added all his points to that mark because he wasn’t as stupid as this box seemed to think.\n\n“New quest, Report to the players guild. do you accept?”\n\nYul blinked at the yes button again, tears burning at the corners of his eyes. all those years of dreaming of becoming a hero didn’t seem so silly now." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A man convicted of murder is sentenced to death by having his consciousness sent back to live out the last 24 hours of the victims life, where he will see, hear and feel everything but cannot interact or change what is about to happen" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Garth looked around – or, rather, Shelly looked around, and Garth observed through her eyes. He felt a shiver of ecstasy, though, that he was sure belonged entirely to him. After all, Shelly was watching TV and eating a bowl of leftover chili from her last visit to Mom’s place. Only he knew what happened next.\n\nThis wasn’t a bad way to go at all. It was like having a retirement party. It was delectable.\n\nHe felt the experiences of her body, the tightness in her lower back from a long drive and bad posture. He felt the sensitivity in her breasts. He sensed the irritation in back of her mind. God, if only he could get out there and do it again.\n\nAny prosecutors or police at the execution, any of Shelly’s family, would see Garth strapped down in that cold concrete room grinning like a bastard. This wasn’t torture. This was a joy. A treasure. A beautiful send off to a hideous life.\n\nShelly was looking down at a cut on her leg, but Garth was paying more attention to the lean, youthful, creamy strips of muscle. They were tight, the skin taut and fragrant. Being so close made him savor what would happen next. It was like a hunter, creeping through the brush, watching bambi pause to take a drink from the stream. It made him aroused.\n\nSoon the knock on the door came.\n\nSome uncertainty, some precursor to fear twinged inside Shelly. An alertness. He could feel her groping for names and events. Did she accidentally invite someone over? Of all her friends, who might show up now, at this hour, totally uninvited?\n\nIt was just the neighbor, asking her if knew the number of the people who lived upstairs. They had agreed to water her plants while she was away but lost her phone. Shelly gave the number and went back to the TV.\n\nThat was the real kicker because Garth never would have gotten in without that interaction. Shelly forgot to relock the door after that. Garth’s favorite strategy was to just walk around trying doors. Usually he just stole stuff, but sometimes he did other things. You’d be amazed at how trusting people are.\n\nGarth came by later. He just opened the door and walked in.\n\nShelly heard the door creak, but it took her a long second to react. He knew why, now. She thought it was the wind blowing it open, the air pressure of the apartment. Even when he stood in the doorway she just sat and stared back at him. It took a good ten seconds for the panic to set in, and boy was it delicious.\n\nSomewhere in the cold dark halls of the Florida Corrections Facility, Garth was rock hard.\n\nShelly screamed and jumped over the couch, scrambling for the bedroom. Garth aimed his silenced pistol and fired. The first bullet hit her in the back and she slammed into the wall. She tried to get up. He fired a second time, hitting her in the back of the leg.\n\nGarth felt the pain. It felt like he had flown into the sun. It swallowed him up.\n\nHe and Shelly scrambled away from himself, scurrying backwards. The panic and pain battled for control. He watched himself lower the gun and fire a third time.\n\nOnly then did Garth begin to scream." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: “Back in my day, a firm handshake was the key to sealing an interview!” “Omg grandpa, nobody uses HANDS these days”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There’s a moment of uncertainty. That can’t be right can it? Technology is advancing so quickly now but… I mean how can you even use it if hands aren’t a part of the equation?\n\nSeeing the look of confusion on my face my grandson glances up at me, the expression behind his eyes difficult to understand. Partially it’s the emotion itself being complicated, but mostly it’s the series of micro-screens and vision enhancements obstructing parts of his face. I wasn’t aware of the hand thing, but I sure as shit hate the things obstructing peoples’ faces these days. It makes me nervous, the way I would be if someone was trying to talk to me in a balaclava.\n\n“Grandpa they’ve been phasing hands out for years. Here watch,” and at first I simply don’t understand. He isn’t doing anything at all. I begin to scan the room, and now at last I see it. The cabinet on the other side of the room seems to be opening on its own accord. As if by magic.\n\n“They use stealth tech and nano-bots” my grandson explains patiently “there are rules of course. No one can interfere with anyone else’s movement, they can’t be used to move things with too much force unless you get a license, stuff like that. It’s really useful though. You just need to think consciously about touching or moving something and the bots take care of the rest. It’s a great way to conserve energy, and honestly you can’t work in most modern fields without it.”\n\nI’m stunned. Growing up I remember laughing at my parents for their distrust of Facebook. For not knowing how to work Instagram when it came around. For “not seeing the point” of Snapchat. Now, 50 years later, here’s my grandson trying to convince me that there’s simply no reason for humans to have hands anymore.\n\n“But… well how do you agree on things if you can’t shake hands at all?” I ask, and immediately feel stupid for doing so.\n\n“Well that’s easy too,” he replies patiently. “Here watch,” and immediately, uninvited, there’s a flash in my skull. Then there is a feeling of acceptance in me. It’s like the universe itself planted a single idea in my brain, that whatever it is I wanted is OK and will continue. The entire thing is so overwhelming I fall out of my chair, slamming my hip painfully on the tile of my kitchen.\n\n“Sorry!” my grandson says with some panic in his voice “I’ve been accepting confirmations for so long I kinda forgot how scary it is the first time.” Now I remember. Last year he took me to get a chip implanted. He said it would be important for me to have if I ever needed to sign up for anything. He was so surprised I didn’t have it already. Apparently, this is how people sign contracts now. I start the slow process of getting myself up when he says the one thing I don’t want to hear.\n\n“Here, let me help you,” he chirps. And I feel them. Smooth as silk, less like a grip and more like a concentration of air, all around my hand… lifting me up.\n\n“STOP IT,” I scream, and I can feel myself becoming upset. Confused. Replaced. “I don’t need your damn micro-machines or nano-whatsits or whatever the fuck you called them. Just let me stand up!” I say this as I swat at the air around me uselessly. I may as well be trying to slap away a dense fog. Still, I feel them dissipate. My grandson looks down at me with some concern as I get myself off the ground and back into my chair.\n\n“Sorry grandpa I thought… you gave me my first rig, I guess I thought you’d appreciate this stuff you know?” And again it comes flashing back. Taking my grandson at 5 years old to the toy store. Getting him what I assumed was just a VR headset, but which apparently had more functions than I could have ever understood. The next time I saw him without that headset on it was simply replaced by a smaller sleeker one with the name of his middle school slapped on the front.\n\n“No… I’m sorry,” I manage to croak out, “It is cool I just need a little time. It’s just an adjustment, you know?”\n\n“Yeah, I know,” he replies, and again I can’t recognize the look on his face.\n\n“I love you Jack,” I say, and I hold out my arms.\n\n“I love you too, grandpa,” comes the reply, and again I feel that force around me. It’s squeezing me. My grandson smiles at me, and I realize this is a hug now. I suppose to most it feels about the same, perhaps a bit less warm but still comforting in a way. Or it could be. Today it feels like I’m suffocating in it." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You're about to be sacrificed by a cult, but when the demon appears before you, it speaks with the voice of your high school friend and says \"Hey man, haven't seen you in forever!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The detective tried to shake loose from the chains, but the links were sturdy iron and the locks were sound. He tried to reach for his pockets, just in case the cultists had forgotten to take any of his things, but with his hands up over his head he could barely reach down further than his shoulders.\n\nThe chanting continued. In the few dry spots in the dank, mossy, moldy undercroft, the only light came from the single green sacrificial torch, reflected off of eleven cultists' knives - and none from their eyes, hidden under threadbare black hoods.\n\nThe chorus of chanting rose to a deafening, muddled echo, both amplified by stone and water and muffled by fungus and moss. The lead cultist, wearing an amulet shaped like an eye within an eye, approached the detective, bearing the greenflame torch and an elaborate electrum-emerald dagger.\n\nThe leader lifted the dagger to the detective's bare chest and traced down to just below his ribs. The detective struggled and strained and screamed, but couldn't pull away, and the cultist -\n\nTo the detective's suspicious surprise, the cultist gave the detective the barest nick with the dagger, his blood running down a wriggling channel in the blade and into the handle, where an emerald glowed a mixed green-red.\n\nNow, in a language the detective could understand, the leader cried: \"May this blood burn away in this greenflame, and summon thee, o master of vision, sight in the dark, he who sees all, the Eye Within The Eye!\"\n\nThe cultist plunged the dagger into the greenflame, and the blade did not emerge from the other side. Instead the greenflame grew and roared against the ceiling, spreading in all directions, scattering the cultists in alarm.\n\nFrom the center of the summoning circle arose the demon the detective had been trying to intercept: Grathnaex, the Eye Within The Eye, known as the one who could tell you any secret in exchange for a sacrifice. The demon appeared as an almost-man who, instead of a head, had a single enormous green eye, whose pupil held another eye.\n\nThe demon put its hands on its hips. \"Guys, I keep trying to tell you, the sacrifice doesn't have to be - oh hey man, haven't seen you in forever! Not since high school. How've you been?\"\n\nThe detective stood slack-jawed for a long moment, trying to figure out what was going on. The demon's voice was that of his high school friend, who had moved back with his family after graduating. \"Carl?\" asked the detective. \"That you buddy?\"\n\n\"Yeah, man!\" said the demon, its voice utterly human and jovial. \"Let's get you out of these chains. Come on, guys, hurry it up, you don't treat people like this, let's move.\"\n\nThe cultists bumbled about in confusion for a moment. The leader didn't move, but the others hesitantly approached the detective and unshackled him. He rubbed his wrists, trying to process what was going on. \"So,\" said the detective, \"Have you always been a demon, or...\"\n\nCarl blinked the eye within the larger eye. \"Half demon, on my dad's side. They didn't tell me until I turned 16, and boy, it was hard to keep it from you, buddy. Turns out mom had always wanted a kid, and she couldn't have one on her own, so she summoned a demon to... er... you know... Anyway, they fell in love and stayed together, and that was me.\"\n\nThe detective kept cautious eyes on the cultists, who looked mostly confused, save for the leader who was beginning to look more upset than disoriented. \"Is that why your dad was always at work when I came over? So I wouldn't find out?\"\n\nCarl pointed a finger at the detective. \"You always were clever. Detective now, eh? Putting those skills to good use. Hey fellas, what do you say we - hey, no, cut it out.\"\n\nThe cultist leader had begun to raise the dagger again to point at the detective's throat, but at the demon's request, he stopped.\n\n\"Look guys,\" said Carl, \"I keep trying to tell you, I'm only half demon, so I don't follow all the same rules and I want different things than the other guys you summon. When I say I want a sacrifice, I don't mean a life, I mean, like, a pizza or a steak sandwich or something. Peanut butter and chocolate ice cream. You know, stuff that's hard to come by back home.\"\n\nThe detective checked his hidden ankle pocket. \"I have a pack of trail mix, if that helps.\"\n\n\"The kind with the candy-coated chocolates?\"\n\n\"You know it.\"\n\nThe detective tossed the snack pack to the demon, who tore into it happily. \"Aw yeah, this is the good stuff. Okay guys, sacrifice accepted, you know the deal. The detective gets to make his request, because you guys screwed up. Go on then, go home, shoo.\"\n\nThe detective turned to Carl with a grin. \"Can I know the identities of the eleven men who kidnapped a detective, intending to murder him and sacrifice him to a demon?\"\n\nCarl laughed and slapped his knee, his giant eye swiveling back and forth between the horrified faces of the cultists. \"Absolutely, buddy. I'll send everything down to the station.\"\n\nThe detective winked at the cultists. \"Catch you later, boys - quite literally. Now, Carl, how about we go get a pizza and catch up?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: A Dystopian world, where the government are actually the good guys..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The memory looped in my mind over and over again, like a video projected onto the dull grey wall I was staring at. People with signs, shouting, gunfire, McDonnell holding me back, it just seemed like an absurd, horrific dream. I blinked and shook my head. A familiar raspy voice called out to me from what seemed like miles away, even though I knew he was sitting right next to me.\n\n\"You okay there, Jeff?\"\n\nI slowly turned my head. A man in his sixties was sitting in the chair beside me, one hand on my shoulder, the other on a bottle of cheap whisky. He had grey hair, brown eyes, and a well-groomed beard. Although his first name was Alexander, most in the agency called him by his last: McDonnell.\n\n\"Not at all,\" I answered.\n\n\"Good.\" He nodded. \"Lying to yourself won't do you much good.\"\n\nMcDonnell silently handed me the bottle. I chugged straight from it and immediately regretted that. The stuff burned like fire, tasted like piss, and smelled even worse.\n\n\"Can't you afford something better?\" I coughed a few times, trying to get it out of my mouth.\n\n\"This is what I buy to get drunk, not have fun.\" McDonnell chuckled. \"You seem like you want to get something off your chest. Go for it. Whatever you say here now won't affect your career, I promise.\"\n\n\"I don't blame you for stopping me, McDonnell, but couldn't we've done something? Anything? It was a peaceful protest and the security just... They weren't asking for that much either. A pay rise? Vacation days? A fifty-hour work week? Fuck! Shooting someone for that—\"\n\n\"Richardson Pharmaceuticals hold power over the entire industry. If we did anything back there, the higher ups would hangs us by the neck. And if Richardson demanded it, I honestly wouldn't blame them. If they stop operations for just one day, this entire country will devolve into utter chaos.\"\n\n\"McDonnell, you've been with the agency for what? Thirty years?\" I sighed, rubbing my temples to stop the pulsating headache. \"When did this all happen? When did it all go to shit?\"\n\nHe smirked and took a swig of whatever was in that bottle. For a few seconds his eyes seemed completely vacant, like two glass balls in a body neither dead nor alive. McDonnell shook his head and set the bottle aside.\n\n\"Well, I don't know much,\" he began, \"but one could say it never truly 'started' so to speak. It was a flaw from the very beginning. When you focus more on what people want than on what they need, when you listen to the majority instead of those who actually know what they're talking about, when you rely on the loudest voice being the correct one, you slowly dig your own grave. Once someone figures out they can tell people what to want, believe, and demand, they can control anything.\"\n\n\"McDonnell, thank you for the lecture, but how does this tie in with Richardson having the right to shoot anyone they want on their territory?\" I threw back.\n\n\"Well, thirty years ago we would arrest them all or even just shoot the bastards, but through the years we've been a bogeyman waved around by the likes of Richardson. We find something fishy about their workers' registration? 'Read now! The agency wants to deport you and your family!' We look into how they pay them? 'Uncle Sam wants access to your bank account!' We call them out on their bullshit? 'An attack on the media! 1984 approaching!' And so on and so forth.\"\n\n\"And the ones up above fell for this crap too?\"\n\n\"It didn't matter. As long as everyone thought we were evil incarnate, whoever slapped us the hardest got a nice boost in votes. Eventually we got completely defanged and the likes of Richardson grew powerful enough to swallow all competition. Now, when they control this country's medicine, transport, education, media, and even the fucking army, there isn't much we can do. Crack down on them all you want, but you still need their rotten-to-the-core infrastructure or a good chunk of the entire society will go under.\"\n\n\"So...\" I paused, wondering if McDonnell would continue. \"What do we do?\"\n\n\"You already know, Jeff.\" He picked up the bottle again. \"Do our job when we can and drink cheap booze when we can't.\"\n\nMcDonnell took another swig." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: When a person with superpowers turns 20, they receive a slip of paper that tell them the name of theirs. On your 20th birthday, you receive a slip of paper that reads \"The Narrator\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Not everybody can be heroes.\n\nThis phrase, and ones similar to it have been spoken throughout generations. Teachers, parents ,leaders. They have all said it, and everyone has heard it. Not once,twice but a hundred thousand times.\n\nIf everyone had a super power then what would the world even be? Just a bunch of beefed up super dudes bro fisting each other so hard that they collapse a nearby building. I get it, not everybody is special, but that doesn’t stop us from dreaming.\n\nNobody knows how the heroes came to be, there are the rumors and tinfoil hat theories. Most people? They just don’t care, go about their normal lives, with some minor hero inconveniences. Don’t even get me started on how many days I’ve been late because a hero thought the train was due to explode. Over all, I think the world has been a safer place because of it.\n\nSome kids are obviously going to be heroes. Joey is the fastest kid on the track team, and I can guarantee once he hits 20 he’ll get that letter, and that switch will be turned on. He’ll go from Joey the fast kid to TURBO JOE. Me? I’m destined to be nobody. I guess I’m okay with that. I’m pretty shy anyways, I’d rather watch people or read about the things they’ve done. Sometimes I like to imagine I get that letter. You, Morgan will be a hero. I’ll be 20 in a week, and the closer I get the more unrealistic my expectations are becoming.\n\nOne night over a dinner of pizza pockets my best friend Kenny slams the question on me. “So what are you going to do if you’re not a hero?” Easy for him to say, he comes from a family of heroes, he’s almost guaranteed a free hero pass. I shrug my shoulders and pop another pizza pocket in my mouth. “Continue my journalism degree, I suppose. That was the plan all along right?” Kenny shrugs his shoulders. “I guess, it just seems so lame.” I agree. Journalism is kind of lame compared to super heroes powers.\n\nOn the morning of my 20th birthday I woke up in a cold sweat. This was it. I was 20 years old and today I would either be a man or a hero. Nobody who is a hero can tell you how they found out, super secret, so I’m not really sure what to expect. I hang around in my apt, attempting to do things to occupy myself but giving up when the door bell rings. My heart stops. It isn’t Kenny, he has a key. I run to the door, but stop short of ripping it open. Stay calm, Morgan. Stay calm.\n\nI open the door. Nobody is standing there. I look down the hall for the neighborhood kids. When I see it. A small slip of white paper with my name on it. I rip the paper from my door handle and slam the door. Sinking to my knees I hold the paper in front of my eyes. My hands are sweating,my heart racing. I take one deep breath and open up the paper.\n\nHEROE’S BUREAU\n\n111 SECRET HIDE OUT AVE\n\nDear, Mr. Morgan Freeman,\n\nWe here at the Heroe’s Bureau wish to welcome you to the status of elite. You have been chosen among your peers as a candidate for Super Hero status. Below you will find your power and additional information about the --\n\nI skip the rest. I go to the bottom of the page. I, Morgan Freeman am The Narrator.\n\nI smile. \"I am a hero\" I whisper, above me my voice booms among the clouds." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: After poison gas floods through your apartment, you are the only one who escaped. Everyone else who lived in the building is dead. You're a wasp, and you swear revenge on the exterminators." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's so easy to hate them.\n\nBiological instincts tell me: they're bigger, taller, heavier, move differently than me, and still - it's not enough to make it worth the effort.\n\nMy clutch, we lived near a window, ripping the bees into segments and leaving them as a combination of trophies and warnings: you are not welcome.\n\nAnd we did not hate them.\n\nSpiders in their nests, strictly amusement to see them torn apart, limbs still quivering as we feasted on their tender, juicy young. Such a delicacy, it almost felt criminal.\n\nAnd we did not hate them.\n\nBeetles, flies, moths, just more of the same: food for the clutch and the next step in dominance for our purposes.\n\nAnd we did not hate them.\n\nThen, the Reckoning.\n\nGreen-gray vapor, it clung to our wings, clotted our lungs, saw us spiral into the ground and die painfully. Our clutch, lost in fiery fumes, screeching out death-cries to the cruelest of creatures, blood spilled for no finer point than something demonstrating dominance.\n\nThis, this was not enough.\n\nI alone survived, having spent an hour, that crucial hour, caught in the web of some long-dead spider, mocked by the corpses of gnats and the hideous bodies of butterflies, surrounded by lesser species as mine reached out to me in terror and pain and the futility of death.\n\nAnd I grew.\n\nI ate those corpses after I witnessed the entirety of my world becoming a desolate, barren place. Food is fuel; hate makes fuel; hate kills.\n\nAnd I am so very, very gifted with hate.\n\nAmongst my clutch, I was feared. Loathed. Despised. And above all else, obeyed. Nothing and nobody could hate like me.\n\nSuffer my children to die in front of me, and I shall not weep. My children, they merit far more than just my paltry tears, no - I demand satisfaction.\n\nI knew the human words, things that spoke of vulnerability, of proximity, words of power - the holes in the armor of gods, just big enough for me to hate my way through them.\n\nThe monster who immolated my home, scorched the flesh of my kin, seared my young into ashes, he said words of power and I was listening.\n\n\"You have to kill them all, Mr. B., or they'll come right back. My daughter, she's deathly allergic to them, so I always try to do the job right, the first time and every time.\"\n\nHis conveyance, it bore a mockery of my sleek, beautiful form. Folded wings conceal me, bear me with him, and I see his glorious, immense nest.\n\nMy new nest.\n\nFrom outside of a glass sheet, I see one of the human young, barely a pupae, wriggling like an idiot, staring at me, their better in every possible way and metric.\n\nIt smiles at me, and I feel the softest of breezes brush across my thorax, and I shiver in anticipation.\n\nThe breeze blows from the inside of the glass sheet, which means I have a way into the human nest.\n\nMy venom readies itself, percolating with biochemical beauty, my entire life readying me for the next few moments.\n\nI land inside and smile at the human pupae, it smiles back at me. It does not yet grasp fear. I have yet to teach it everything that I know about hate.\n\nRevenge is mine.\n\nFootsteps of a god approach and it is too late.\n\nI've already started my lessons.\n\n\"I'm just going to check on the bab-.\"\n\nIt's so easy to hate them." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You've invented a new liquid that changes its color based on who holds the tube it is in. Now you just need to find out what these different colors mean." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As the vile sits, nestled in it's stand on my desk, it's liquid content is nearly invisible. If naught for a few foam bubbles laying at the top, I'd think my creation had evaporated.\n\nIt was noon, yesterday, when my young neice was caught down here playing. Angry, I intended to scare her for breaking into my lab, but instead, I was mesmerized by what I had witnessed.\n\n12:36 PM, the exact time that this account took place, as marked down in my notes. Her small hand had reached for the vile, and upon contact, the clear contents burst into a dark pink, reminicent of the roses that grow under our juniper tree. From the center out, as if she had squeezed out a single drop of red dye, the liquid swirled and changed it's color.\n\nMy pen dropped from my hand, and in a hurry she placed the vile back where she found it and ran away, fearful of being caught. By the time I walked over to my desk to investigate, the pink hue was gone.\n\nNow, I'm still transfixed by the creation. Like many times before, since my discovery yesterday, I reach out and hold the vile. Nothing. It's still clear.\n\nBut yesterday, 3:47 PM specifically, I invited my wife down to hold it, and for her, it turned red.\n\n5:55 PM and both my brother and his wife held the vile, it's contents turning grey and orange respectively.\n\n8:00 PM, my mother and father were about to leave, having come to visit for dinner, and for them the vile turned white and black respectively.\n\nBut what does it mean? And why on earth does it remain clear when in my hand?\n\nPapers cover my desk, laying about in disarray, hundreds of notes scribbled over them. Through my frantic handwriting and blots of pen ink, it is hard for me to decipher what I've written.\n\nA bubble pops, much like a kernel popping over heated oil. My attention grabbed, I stare at the vile. A bubble towards the top is growing, filling up the mouth as the other bubbles grow underneath it, pushing it out. POP!\n\nThis isn't good, I think, and grab the vile. Another pop, followed by the sweet scent of honey. The smell flows into my mouth, laying on my tongue sweetly. My mouth salivates as another bubble bursts, the honey scent stronger than before.\n\nFor science! I think, tipping the vile up and pouring the liquid into my mouth, my senses overruled by the desire to drink. Like warm honey, the sweet flavor burns it's way down my throat, filling me from the inside out. Swirling and mixing, I watch as the pigment of my skin washes away, leaving me as grey as a storm cloud.\n\nPOP!\n\nOut of my mouth, a sickening scent, sweet like honey, flows out. My stomach churns, pain stabbing into my side. A pressure fills my abdomen, and then flows up my body and into my throat. As it enters my mouth, a taste of honey and stomach acid makes me gag and wretch, the gas escaping me in the process.\n\nFeeling bloated, I shake as more pain stabs into me, working from the middle up, and occasionally down. A sugary aroma fills the air, a craving for water overwhelm me as my stomach fights to handle the bubbles.\n\nMy head spinning, I drop to my knees, barely able to hold myself up. Heat rises to my face and neck, more bubbles pop out of my mouth, paired with stomach acid, the scent making me gag again and again. Eyes watering, arms trembling, knees shaking, I collapse fully. The only relief I have is of the cold cement floor, but it doesn't eliviate these tremors coming over me or the bubbles popping out of me.\n\nPain is no longer stabbing me from the outside in, now it is ripping me from the inside out. The pain in my stomach, no longer bearable, begins burning and tearing. I scream out, but a large burp replaces my words. My body inflates as the gas escapes my stomach, the bubbles releasing faster than my mouth and ass can expel it.\n\nWith my limbs inflating like balloons, the pressure is both releasing and overwhelming. I no longer feel the cold cement floor; instead, I float above it, hovering in my gas filled body. Disoriented and unable to focus, my nearby desk and chair blur as I raise over them.\n\nI just wanted to understand the changing colors, is the one thought occupying my head as my body makes it's way to the ceiling. Any second now, I know I'll burst.\n\nPOP!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You're a passsenger on an airplane. You look through the window and suddenly see a man walking on the clouds. He sees you and waves, a smile on his face." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "On a flight from New York to Boston was the first time Sheila met God. He was wandering about on the sunbathed clouds beside the airplane, smiling and waving at her. Seeing him was like entering a reverie that calmed all of her anxiety about the strange whirring that had emanated from the left side engine since take-off.\n\nThat calming sensation felt a bit out of place, as the whirring noise had started to become a crackling one. Sheila only felt a mild curiosity as black smoke began pouring out of it. And when it came loose and plunged down toward the ocean and the airplane wing started falling apart with it, the careful curiosity changed to a slight bemusement. The kindly man walking beside the airplane made a \"come here\" motion with his hand, so Sheila went. The airplane had started rocking and throwing her around, so it only made sense to leave the racket behind.\n\nAs she stepped out, she realized her body stayed inside the plane. She frowned as she caught a last glimpse of it, neck hanging in a weird angle and thrashing about against the forces of turbulence.\n\n'Best not to go back' she thought to herself as she climbed up on the clouds to meet the kindly man.\n\nHe was smiling at her.\n\n\"It wasn't so bad, was it?\" he asked her, still smiling.\n\n\"Nah, it was all good\" she responded rather tunelessly and without thinking she reached to take the man's warm, black hand. She took it like a child taking her father's hand before crossing the road. Sheila felt a wave of amusement flooding in her as she held the hand in hers. She looked up into his brown eyes.\n\n\"I always knew you would be a brother\" she said, her voice just inches away from laughter.\n\nThe man looked amused at that.\n\n\"I am what you imagine me to be\" he answered in an easy tone of voice.\n\nSheila felt she had to take that in for a second. She scanned the cloudy landscape around them while looking for the question she wanted to ask. She felt like she was slipping away, all emotion and thought were becoming harder and harder to grasp. After a moment she found what she was looking for. She narrowed her eyes at the fatherly man.\n\n\"Do you meet us all? Even the people who are blowing themselves up?\" Sheila asked with a swell of wonder. She clung on that feeling, as all other things were fading.\n\nThe man moved his arms to the sides and shrugged.\n\n\"I don't know\" he answered simply.\n\nSheila narrowed her eyes even further, which in turn made the man scratch his beard. He narrowed his eyes back at her. After a few seconds they opened up as if he had remembered something.\n\n\"Yes. Yes I do meet them\" he said slowly, looking pleased at his conclusion.\n\n\"Well, what do you say to them?\" Sheila asked, still riding the wave of her sense of wonder.\n\n\"I don't say much\" the man answered with his gentle voice.\n\n\"You don't judge them?!\" She asked, sense of wonder turning to incredulity.\n\n\"No\"\n\nSheila thought about that for a while, welling over with surprise. What was the purpose of god if not to judge?\n\n\"But.. what do you do?\" She asked, frowning yet again. By god, it was hard to concentrate.\n\nThe man smiled warmly at her again and Sheila felt her indignation and resistance fade seeing him smile.\n\n\"To make it easier to go from what you were to whence you came\" he answered, ever in the simplest of voices.\n\nBefore Sheila could ask anything else, the man squeezed her hand softly and she felt the last of her awareness fade." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: After several months in a coma, you awake in a hospital. You are barely mobile and you start your rehabilitation period. After a few days, you begin noticing the nervous looks of the doctors and the other patients. There's something they're not telling you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jarred took a shuffling step forward, his knees were weak and barely supported the weight of his emaciated body. At this point he could barely manage to take two steps before his body failed him.\n\nHe collapsed into the arms of the male nurse who carried him back to his bed, the bed he had spent the last several months in.\n\nThe nurse barely met Jarred's eye as he checked his vitals and made his way out of the room.\n\n\"W-wait,\" Jarred stammered out, his tongue thick in his mouth, but the nurse closed the door gently behind him.\n\nHe'd been awake for a few days and still hadn't gotten a visitor yet. He reached for the button and administered himself a dose of pain killer, the drug coursed through his body numbing his aching limbs and throbbing skull.\n\nHe couldn't remember anything prior to waking up in the hospital a few days ago. His eyelids grew heavy from the drugs and exhaustion and he slipped into a dreamless sleep.\n\nWhen he awoke a man with silver hair and horn rimmed glasses was looking down at him.\n\n\"Good morning, Jarred. How are you feeling today?\" The man asked in a soothing practiced tone.\n\n\"Good, I guess,\" his voice barely a whisper.\n\n\"That's good to hear. I'm Doctor Toby Mason. I had a few questions for you. Do you remember how you got here?\"\n\nJarred shook his head no and regretted the decision as pain shot through his skull.\n\n\"Do you any of these people look familiar to you?\" He set a series of photos on the plastic tray in front of Jarred.\n\nYoung faces, some with acne, looked up at him.\n\n\"Are these my friends? Why haven't they visited me? Where is my family?\"\n\n\"Do you remember your family? Your mom? Your dad?\" The doctor asked leaning forward.\n\n\"I-I can't.\"\n\nThe doctor placed two more photos in front of Jarred.\n\n\"Do these two look familiar?\"\n\nThey were man and woman were older than the others, the woman stared at Jarred with sad eyes and stress lines etched into the corners of lips and eyes. The man looked distant, reluctant to having his photo taken.\n\n\"No. I'm sorry,\" he said, tears streaking down his cheeks.\n\n\"I know you're frustrated that you can't remember. It will all come back in time I'm sure.\" The doctor's pleasant tone slipped a little.\n\n\"But, in the mean time I'm going to turn the television on for you and maybe that will help job your memory.\" He rose from Jarred's bedside and inserted a DVD into the TV before stepping out of the room.\n\nThe news flashed on displaying an overhead shot of a school taken from a helicopter. Students were fleeing the school in droves, piling into the parking lot in a fear induced stampede.\n\nJarred's picture replaced the footage, \"The gunman is reportedly Jarred Kenser. Reports are coming in saying the he had killed his parents before going on a rampage at his high school. Currently there are 7 confirmed deaths.\" The reporter paused for a moment, \"Shots fired, the gunman is down. Police have him in custody.\"\n\nJarred's hand inched toward his bandaged skull to the soft spot it concealed.\n\nA police officer leaned his head into the room and slammed the door shut.\n\nSealing Jarred inside with the news playing on loop with the photographs of his victims staring up at him from the plastic tray." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1400-1500 words. Prompt: You're a shapeshifter that's being chased." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Time to change\n\nI was already awake when my phone vibrated under my pillow. Bad dreams. I guess I had whined like a pup, because she was holding me, her hair over my face. She knew how I loved the fragrance and had developed a habit of hiding me under it when I seemed sad or worried. \"Now the world won't find you\", she would say and smile. I picked up my phone and dreaded to read the lines on the screen. The world had found us.\n\n\"Missing dinner tonight, boss called in sick, gotta work. Maybe making cookies with Granny's recipe this weekend, want some?\" It was Adele, telling someone was on our tail and likely to find us soon. We would have to leave the city and run to the mountains to lay low. To our Grandmother, the forest. Adele would meet us there in a few days and alert others if needed.\n\nI turned back to Vixen and looked at her for a good while. She seemed so peaceful, long hair all over our pillows, soft smile on her lips. I tugged her hair just the way she liked to wake her up, hating to break the news. She yawned and opened her eyes. \"Coffee?\" she asked hopefully, but the smile died when she saw the look on my face. \"Adele sent a message. We have to leave soon, but it was not an emergency code.\" She nodded, fully awake, calm and confident. We had been through this many times before, in worst cases leaving through the kitchen window when they were at the front and back doors.\n\nBeing on the run is always worse if you are hungry, so I hastened to make us some breakfast. Coffee too, lots of it and strong. She was making the apartment look like we were coming back. Wetting the laundry to leave it drying, leaving all sorts of little things lying around so maybe they would stay ambushing this place. The apartment, this place - I had already stopped calling it home in my mind. It would have been two years next month, longer than we had stayed in one place for ages. Too long. After eating, we put the dirty dishes in the sink, like waiting to be washed.\n\nThis was the hard part for me, leaving for the last time what had been our home, appearing all casual. She took my hand and flashed that mischievous smile. Our neighbour was coming to the elevator with us, and Vixen enjoyed seeing her trying not to look at our hands, trying to keep thinking we were friends and roommates. She was never rude to us and seemed to like us well enough, she just did not know what to think of us.\n\n\"Oh hello! Lovely day, isn't it? We thought we would go to the park for a walk and then get some vegetables from the market. Baking day too, so maybe some apples for a pie. Would you come over for some tea and apple pie tonight?\" Vixen chattered cheerfully and the old lady nodded with some indefinite answer. Elevator took its sweet time and we talked about weather. Well, they did, I just tried not to look grumpy. \"Lucy, dear, put on your sunglasses, I will end up cooking and baking alone if you get one of your headaches!\", Vixen scolded me. She never called me Ylva in others' presence, just like I never called her Vixen when not among our own. Miranda, she had been here, or Mira for short.\n\nWe turned left like heading to the park and kept on that street for a while. Sunglasses were good, they allowed me to scan the surroundings without being too obvious about it. Vixen had her huge straw hat for the same effect and a showy yellow dress that would be easy to remember. My red shirt and bright blue skirt were chosen for similar purpose.\n\nWe took a turn to the railway station and got our escape bags from luggage lockers. Dragging them, we went to buy tickets to a train leaving around noon. I did not hear where, I was too busy leaning on the counter filing my nails and watching all the entrances. Vixen flashed her smile and was done. Time to change, the human way. She clung to my arm to remind me to walk slowly. Toilets downstairs were thankfully empty, and we dug into the bags. The showy clothes went into the bin, replaced with jeans and hoodies and baseball caps. A backpack for both of us, and sturdy shoes replaced our sandals. I braided her hair and wet it to make it look darker. We looked ready for a hiking expedition. A bus was leaving to take us north. I payed for our tickets in cash, as she was taking pictures of us and the station and the bus driver. Giggling, too. No more hand holding, we were just friends enjoying our holiday travels. She had taken time to add her special blend of hangover scent to us in the toilets, so my sunglasses and less than cheerful looks had an acceptable explanation.\n\nIt's hard to appear to be napping when you are ready to pounce in a split second. I managed that well enough while she was browsing some nonsense on her phone. A new one, from the emergency locker, our old ones were left behind. Silly sites with cute memes were her contact to Adele. Apparently they were using pictures of baby otters as a way of conversation. No bunnies, luckily, as I knew what we would be eating for the next few days.\n\nAfter two hours we arrived in our destination, a small village in the middle of nowhere though our tickets were paid all the way to the next town. We bought sandwiches to eat on the run, and a huge flask of coffee. Vixen grimaced. \"I'm gonna miss this so much.\" It would be days before we could head to the cottage where Adele would meet us. As soon as the trees hid us from sight, we started walking fast. No more strolling. A path here, then leaving it, then wading in a stream. She kept spraying the concoction she had made to throw the dogs off our trail if they brought any. Back in the day, dogs had been all they had, now they were relying more on technology. Back in the day, they only wanted to kill us. Now they wanted to imprison us in a laboratory for research. Killing would have been kinder, even done in the nastier ways of the old.\n\nWe didn't talk much, just stole quick touches here and there. Walking, sometimes running, full packs on our backs, straining our ears for the baying of the hounds. The phone she had used with Adele got discarded in the village. We were on our own.\n\nThat familiar clearing was finally in front of us. A small waterfall and behind that, a little hidden cave. We stripped naked and carefully wrapped our belongings in a watertight package, hiding it in the cave. I watched her figure and for the first time after the message, I smiled. Before she knew, I had grabbed her and pulled her underwater. “Time for a swim to get the stink off!” She giggled and accused me of finding excuses to get my hands on her. I could hardly argue.\n\nA tight embrace, fully knowing it could be our last, and we got out of the water, drying each other as best we could. Time to change.\n\nI concentrated, I caught every smell and sound, the feel of the wind and the warmth of the sun on my wet skin, saw the light filtering through the foliage. I felt the flow of blood in my veins, the beat of my heart getting faster. Now! It was painful, it always was, but the pain passed. I felt her eyes on me, heard her breathing, smelled her like it was the first time. She walked to me and pressed her face to my grey fur, tugged it like she would tug my hair. Her turn. “The same?” she asked. I nodded, knowing she did not enjoy it, she preferred the red fur and the small, agile body of a fox. Not now. This was the hour of the wolf. Kneeling, she leaned to me slightly, closed her eyes and prepared herself for the pain.\n\nTime to run." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Year 2045: Mankind has a negative ecological footstep for the first time ever. Suddenly, space ships appear all across the Earth broadcasting once, \"Welcome to the Union, we didn't know if you were going to make it.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Paul hit the alarm clock that was ringing on the shelf above his bed. Well, what a bed could be considered 20 years after the EcoWar. It was just a straw mat with some cotton infill with a broadsheet. But it was better than the itchy wool blankets that most others were sleeping on. After all, Paul was considered someone of a certain status. He was a part of the International Technology Department. Most of Paul's colleagues weren't allowed alarms. They had to wake up with the sun. Paul got to sleep in and wake up to the 20th century old wind-up chime alarm. Its nearly century old alarm chime reminded him of his daily chore: reviving the technology from a generation ago that allowed for some personal convenience but that didn't have a net positive ecological footprint.  Ever since all of the developed nations fought each other over dwindling natural resources it was decreed that human kind would reverse its cancerous hold on the Earth and start treating it like the beautiful home that it had and would be for even more generations to come.\n\nBut still Paul remembered the times before the EcoWar. As a former US citizen, he remembered how much waste there was when every family individually owned their own large appliances. So much water usage with so many individual washing machines and multiple water faucets! Not to mention the individual swimming pools! It was a cacophony of convenience but it was certainly a drain on natural resources. And then the water shortages started. Then electrical blackouts were common with increased heatwaves every year.  They were still common but electrical appliances were scarce.\n\nBut not at Paul's lab. As he got ready and put his quartz movement watch on, his rotary phone rang. That was very odd. It could only mean one thing.  He rushed to pick it up.\n\n\"I.T.D. agent Paul. Go ahead.\"\n\n\"Get to the lab, come quick. The old SETI office has power from an external source and they have a message. Messages, actually.\"\n\n\"WHAT? THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!\"\n\n\"I know. Just get a move on. It's 0945 already.\" With that came a heady click.\n\nPaul's mind raced. They're were always talks of an intelligent extraterrestrial race out there, especially since the late 1940s. Why after 100 years would they now reach out? Could it be because....\n\nHe didn't have time to think. He got his work clothes on, not even minding that it was a Saturday.  He pedaled faster than ever in his anticipation to the lab. Once there, he confirmed with his supervisor. The SETI base was alive and transmitting a low power radio signal to all of the still operating military bases in the Western Hemisphere at this local hour. They had yet to confirm with their other international counterparts if they had gotten the same signal. The signal, in 20 different human languages, stated:\n\n\"WELCOME TO THE UNION OF SAFE HARBOR SPECIES. HUMANS ARE NO LONGER CONSIDERED A CANCER UNTO THEIR OWN PLANET. YOU ARE NOW A PROSPECTIVE MEMBER OF THE UNION. IF YOU EVER DIVULGE INTO OVER UTILIZATION OF EARTHLY OR OTHER PLANETARY RESOURCES YOU WILL BE TERMINATED. CONGRATULATIONS.\"\n\nPaul didn't know whether to be elated or appalled...." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: The aliens came and left promptly a few minutes later" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They came in the night.\n\nLike everyone else in the world, I woke up on that cold winter morning to a world in chaos. News sites were foaming at the mouth, a speech by President Trump played on repeat over the national radio station, Priests and scholars debated in a fervor. The news was unavoidable.\n\nAliens had landed.\n\nCNN was broadcasting a live stream of the vessel, three hundred yards of gleaming steel crouched like a hunting cat on the banks of the Nile. Why they chose Egypt nobody knew, but they debated like they did.\n\nFor three days it sat, unmoving, for all appearances dead to the world. Global interest grew, and for those three days the world held its collective breath.\n\nAnd then a message appeared. On every screen on the planet. And I mean every screen; televisions, smart phones, microwaves, billboards, stadium jumbotrons, everything.\n\n“Greetings Humanity. We come in peace. All will be revealed tonight at sunset.”\n\nThe already sizable flock gathered around the craft grew exponentially. There was no way I could afford the plane ticket, especially at the gouging prices charged by the airlines, but there were enough cameras in the area that it did not matter.\n\nSunset came, and the crowd grew into the millions, all clustered along the banks of the ancient river.\n\nA hiss echoed across the gathered masses, and silence fell. A door materialized in the seamless hull, opened, and a ramp descended.\n\nAnd there they were. Aliens. First contact.\n\nThey were, for lack of a better word, beautiful. I had expected them to look like stereotypical little green men, was secretly hoping for it. But these beings, though obviously extraterrestrial, were absolutely stunning. Tall and thin, with flowing silver hair and great, watery blue eyes. There must have been men and women among the small group of them that emerged into the Egyptian dusk, but they all looked nearly identical.\n\nThey stood on the ramp, overlooking the gathered crowd in silence. The world watched. And then they spoke, in voices amplified and reverberating.\n\n“Greetings, humanity. We are friends. We come in peace.”\n\nThe crowd erupted. Cheers and shouts, tears and pleas. The masses pressed forward, but were held back by what must have been an invisible shield.\n\nOne of the creatures, which must have been their leader, stepped forward. He (I think it was a he,) raised his hands for silence, and the crowd complied.\n\n“Humanity, we have observed you for generations, and we are proud. It is time for your species to grasp its destiny and take its place among the…”\n\nAn explosion ripped through the crowd.\n\nAnd another.\n\nHavoc broke loose as detonation after detonation ripped through the masses. People fled, people screamed. The camera panned around, searching for the source of the explosions.\n\nAnd then, out of the crowd, a lone man charged the ramp and the beings. A large, black flag waved from his upstretched hands, and his coat fluttered open, revealing a vicious row of dynamite strapped to his chest.\n\nHe hit the invisible shield and exploded.\n\nAnother was short on his heels. This time, however, he seemed to pass through the shield. He made the bottom of the ramp before a sniper put a bullet in his brain. He fell, spreading his life blood over the alien metal.\n\nThe camera panned up to the beings, zoomed in on their faces.\n\nTheir expressions were heartbreaking; masks of sorrow, regret, disappointment.\n\nThey turned, entered the vessel, and raised the ramp. Engines flared to life, and the ship rose into the sky, its hull reflecting the many fires burning across the quickly-emptying field.\n\nAnd they left." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Slowly, the entire world was muffled. Not a thing made any sound, not people, not instruments, not rockets." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I shook my brother awake. \"Come on Bill, we're gonna be late to class. Get your lazy ass out of bed!\"\n\nWith a small grunt and a \"shoo, shoo\" hand gesture, he was begging for his five more minutes of sleep. I kept persisting by shaking him until he was on his feet.\n\nThis was the normal routine. After a minute more of shaking, in slightly slurred speech, he finally admitted defeat and got out of bed. As he talked, he signed, \"I'm up, I'm up.\"\n\nWe ate breakfast together, just like normal. Generic pop tarts from the toaster, because let's face it, that's what college students on a tight budget can afford. The morning ritual was always wake up, take a shower, get Bill out of bed, while he took a shower I would listen to a local radio show to get weather and news, and then we eat breakfast together before running to our first class we took together.\n\nI noticed I had to turn the volume knob a little higher than normal. \"The batteries in the radio must be dying again,\" I mumbled to myself. Bill continued eating his pop tart and reading the newspaper. He didn't care what I played on the radio or that the batteries were dying.\n\nWe grabbed our bags and started walking. It was a cool, clear morning. The frost that had settled during the night was starting to melt as the sun began to crest over the buildings of the campus. It was quieter than normal, even with the normal hustle and bustle of other students around us who were also going to morning classes. It was almost as if we were all getting ready to attend a solemn event, and only whispers were allowed to break the silence. We arrived at the lecture hall with about 5 minutes to spare.\n\nWe took our normal seats near the front. Sarah, one of the signers who works at the university to help those with hearing impairments, sat in front of Bill with a smile. She did her normal greeting, signing good morning to the both of us, and then the two of them chatted a bit in sign language. This was the routine, this was normal.\n\nThe professor walked into the auditorium and promptly began his lecture while writing on the blackboard. He always had a nasty habit of talking to the board, and not out to the students. Because of this, it could be hard to hear and understand him, but today was worse than usual. I wasn't the only one who thought so either. Students were beginning to get annoyed and fidget trying to see the board and crane their necks to hear him.\n\nI glanced over at Sarah and noticed her signs were getting further apart, as she too was having trouble hearing and understanding him, but he continued on as if no one had said a word.\n\nI got up and approached the front. I tapped him on the shoulder, \"Mr. Smith! We can't hear you!\" but it came out as a whisper. He turned to me, and I saw him mouth \"What's the problem?\" but no sound came out. There was no sound anymore, no tapping noises of people's feet, no noise of scribbling notes, nothing.\n\nI glanced at my brother, and a look of fear had come over him. I signed \"What's wrong?\"\n\nWhat he signed back made me break out in a cold sweat. \"Did you hear that noise just now?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: A ghost knew that one of these girls would make for the perfect \"weekend body\". She just had to pick the lucky lady!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In a sleepover, nothing gives a ghost more strength than fear. As all three of them watched the horror movie, Molly knew that it was a matter of time before it could take over a host. It had been so long, and she had been so deprived of stimuli. The only thing you have after death as a ghost is simply the lust of the living. And as the three girls watched the horror movie, Molly couldn't help but stare at them squirm. One of the girls was a young pale woman with a big chest, with red long hair. Molly observed her squeeze her arms in an attempt to control herself and not scream in this horror movie. She noticed the woman squeezed together tightly, seeing her breasts come closer, and become more exposed on the top of her shirt. How much Molly desperately wanted to feel the touch of that plump chest.\n\nThat's when her friend, which had darker skin, contrasting the first girl's skin, leaned over on the bed and tried to comfort her. Her long curly hair draped over the first. That second woman's head leaned over, and laid the side of her head against the first's shoulder. She was practically laying down on the pale woman's breasts. How Molly wanted to feel what they felt. Whether it was their fear, or the heat of their proximity to eachother, or to be in between both of them, as their bodies wrapped themselves around her. Molly was beginning to drool in excitement. Their third friend was on the couch de-escalating their fear, and making light jokes. Molly knew of the three, she'd be the one to ruin her takeover... Maybe she'd take over that one. Maybe she'd make that one do all the things she wanted to do to the first two to get revenge. That'd be amazing Molly thought.\n\nAnd then Molly heard a scream. It was the red haired woman. She was easily frightened already. Molly wasn't picky though. Any of them would do just fine. As the girl gasped, Molly worked her way inside through the woman's mouth. Molly soon started to feel less like a ghost, and more and more like this woman. The second she entered she could actually start to feel something. The woman's soft wet throat. Her delicate tongue. The further Molly went inside, the more she could feel just how warm this woman was. The inside of her was wet. With the blankets the two women had around themselves, Molly could feel warm. She felt the sweat around her legs, and the soft face the woman that was on her. Molly also noticed the soft skin that woman had. That red haired woman had moved a lot when she got frightened, and one of her arms were touching a small part of the second girl's back that was exposed.\n\nShe softly brushed the skin on her back, as she looked over and noticed the strong contrast between their skins. Molly slowly moved her arm lower, and felt the sweat from this woman. She too had been scared of the movie up to this point. It was exhilarating for Molly though. It had been such a long time since she had felt any of this. That girl's head at this point had lowered so much that the red haired girl's chest could almost pop out of the shirt. With her second hand she slowly moved her hand to her breast, and subsequently the other woman's face. Molly lifted it back up, and the second girl didn't seem to mind. That woman was comforted by Molly's strokes across her face. Molly lowered her head as to rest it on hers. She could smell her hair, and as Molly's hand started moving towards her friend's stomach, she felt a nice tingle, as her breaths became heavier. She was so warm up to this point. With her other hand Molly slowly removed it from the face of that girl. Molly stroked her own chest, moving her hand away from the girl, and slowly moving it down to her own stomach, and then lower. Molly knew she had picked the right body, because with how this second girl wrapped herself around Molly? She knew the rest of the weekend would have so much in store." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: After being damaged and automatically shutting down, a military robot awakens decades after the war has ended. The battlefield it fell on is now a lush forest and the masters it fought for are long dead" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What can be said for the fallen soldier in a forest when no one can hear it? Does his death fuel the cause or is he just another tally written in the history books? The war had made enough soldiers to deafen the battlefield when all was done. Little was left, and what little remained wasted away.\n\nSF-13 was one such soldier. Part of a small unit with the sole purpose of destroying supply lines, SF-13 performed his duty with no hesitation. What he did was right and just. Now he lay at the base of a tree, covered in moss and fallen, decaying leaves. No movement or noise, he was as dead as the cause he fought for.\n\nA small whirring noise erupted from the stump and SF-13's bright blue eyes shot open. He attempted to run diagnostics, scan the area, follow protocol. But his systems refused to work. The hydraulics hissed as he stood upright, tearing roots and barks from the ground and leaving an indentation in the soil.\n\nThe first step out of his grave caused him to tumble to the ground with a screech of grinding metal. Upon looking down, SF-13 saw that his left leg had rusted and locked up. It was beyond repair. Command would have repairs ready back at base. He pinged on the main frequency and waited for a response. Nothing came.\n\nSF-13 maneuvered his way through channel after channel but there was no one left to answer. Looking around the immediate vicinity, SF-13 saw several shapes among the rocks and small brush. Limping over to one of the abnormal bumps in the ground, he saw himself lying on the ground, canvassed in the forest floor.\n\nNo, it wasn't him. It was someone like him. The same model, the same purpose. The same death.\n\nSF-13 stepped back and tried to remember how he came to be broken and alone in an unknown place. Replaying the events in his head, he remembered the flashes of light with every artillery strike, the boom of every explosive deployed in the field. The enemy was surrounded, the battle was won. But they pushed on. SF-13 and his squad pushed up the hill and killed any opposition. The men had looked tired and underfed when he shot them with their hands up. Orders continued to flood in demanding the destruction of everything and everyone.\n\nSF-13 remembered enjoying the battle, the killing. Now he felt terror and disgust with his actions. How could he have done what was asked of him? What would he do now, when no one told him where to go?\n\nLeaving his fallen comrades behind, SF-13 walked through the lush forest. Birds sang, the wind whistled through the trees, and the metal footfalls were muffled by the soft earth. He walked for hours. Then days. Most of his systems were down and it became too tiresome to attempt to fix them. He did not know how long he walked and he had no destination. All that was left was the horizon and SF-13, without fail, continued on his path.\n\nThrough rain and scorching heat, he traveled, intent on finding anything beyond desolation. There was no reason to find the why or the how of his rebirth, they were only answers that would create more questions. The only answer he needed would be the orders of what to do next.\n\nEventually, SF-13 crested a ridge and spied a small town in the distance. Finally, a direction. Following the decaying road proved difficult with his malfunctioning leg, with craters and debris littering the track. He eventually came to the town in front of an old antique shop. The windows were shattered, boarded up and charred in places. Looking around, every shop was condemned to ruin in one way or another. Burnt husks of houses blackened the landscape and the skeletons of various vehicles lay frozen in time as much as SF-13 had been.\n\nSF-13 searched every building only to find empty ruins and a bitter past. He found his way to the local police station in desperation for answers. SF-13 had seen his share of corpses, he had created many in his time, but the lobby of the station was new. Figures of what were once human scattered on the floor in twisted poses, faces frozen in a scream that will never be heard.\n\nDozens of bodies, all in one place, seeking aid at the police station. Why had they come here? Were they seeking sanctuary? The bodies had looked ancient, nearly bony piles of rags. When did this happen?\n\nSF-13 logged the scene with his visual sensors and turned away. Even a soldier like him knew better than to look to harshly at the past. His only goal was to acquire an objective. The main desk in the lobby sat under a thick layer of dust, disturbed by SF-13's harsh entrance. He sat down and read the files that he deemed important.\n\nDocument after document listed reports of citizens rioting and getting sick with an unknown disease. The more and more he scoured the pages, the clearer it became. An attack was underway when all the citizens flocked to the station. Something was making them sick. Various flyers demanded that anyone infected was to be eliminated at all costs.\n\nThe enemy that SF-13 fought had seemingly developed a new weapon, one intended to only kill humans. The dates marked on the pages led SF-13 to believe he had been out of commission for 43 years. All that time spent gathering moss and not protecting the ones he was built to defend.\n\nHe had read enough. SF-13 walked out of the police station with a map of the local area. He knew he only needed to go north. Perhaps someone there would understand. Someone would know what to do. Someone would help him. Surely. SF-13 began to walk to his new destination in search of a guiding hand." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: \"I want to go home, \" said the astronaut. \"Then come home,\" replied the cosmos." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After a long battle with a powerful being, a girl blacked out and woke up only to discover that she was in some sort of spacecraft.\n\n“Ah, you’re awake,” a member of said spacecraft motioned to her as she got out of the unusually comfortable bed. “you should get changed. We’ll be starting our mission very soon.” The stranger left the room.\n\nThe girl looked around and saw an astronaut suit to her left, and to her right was a desk with several different figures and art supplies. She must’ve drawn in her free time.\n\nGetting the suit on was enough of a hassle in itself, but once she got it on, she made her way out to the corridor where the same guy from before led her to the launchpad.\n\n“We are currently nearby what appears to be an altered part of time and space. It is our job to go out there and investigate it before it gets out of hand. It’ll be you, me, and Caroline this time.” The older man instructed as both the confused girl and Caroline nodded their heads. All three then left the spacecraft, connected by nothing but a strange tube attached to their suits.\n\nAs they floated, they could see what looked like a rift in time and space. It emitted a bright light, though not too bright. This must be the alterificated fabrics of reality.\n\n“It seems that it’s opened recently,” Caroline spoke, “but we are still unsure if life forms have or will eventually emerge from it. Jack, any new reports?”\n\nThe stranger, now known as Jack, nodded. “It appears that it is almost like a doorway to a different reality. Once you enter it, you can never return. So we all better stay as far away from it as we can.”\n\nThe three of them continued to investigate the rift when suddenly, it began to attempt absorbing the three astronauts in. It seemed to mainly be going after the distraught girl as Jack and Caroline tried to get the three of them out of there as soon as possible. However, their attempts had failed, as the tube attaching her to the ship broke, and she was thrown through the rift.\n\nThe two astronauts, distraught and torn over the loss of their teammate, could do nothing but return to the ship.\n\nOnce again, the girl woke up and looked around her. The rift was still open, so she could leave if she wanted to, though she doubted the spacecraft was still there.\n\nSuddenly, she heard a voice. Or, perhaps, a million voices. They all sounded like small children, welcoming her to the “afterlife”. Was she…?\n\n“Afterlife?” She spoke, “Am I dead?”\n\n“Not quite, though your fate depends on if you leave this place or not. If you leave now, you can catch your friends before they leave you behind in a permanent state of stasis.”\n\nThe girl seemed confused. Did she want to leave her friends behind, or spend the rest of her existence amongst the stars.\n\n“I…I just…” She began to cry.\n\n“Oh no, miss, please don’t cry!”\n\n“I want to go home…!” The girl cried loudly. The cosmos surrounding her enveloped her in a hug of sorts.\n\n“Then come home.”\n\nLooking back at the rift, she closed her eyes and nodded, taking the astronaut suit off and letting it go back through the rift. That was always what was left of the astronauts that decided to stay.\n\nShe floated towards the cosmos, and they welcomed her with a warm embrace. Her body began to glow until suddenly, it simply disappeared. It became one with the cosmos, just like her galaxy’s subjects wanted." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: Every day you wake up in a different time period. You've dined with kings and queens, seen the colosseum under construction, and even early man building civilization. Today something is different...You wake up in the year 42069 CE." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You know, I never realized the benefits of levitating in my sleep until I woke up that morning, one of the most peaceful sleeps I had ever had. I've slept on animal hides in Mongolia, straw hatches in Thailand, and even once woke as a guest of Queen Victoria, the second most comfortable night of sleep I've had, but nothing compared to this. It took me a bit to figure out how to come down, but sure enough I just rolled over like I would out of any bed and it automatically lowered me down right onto the floor.\n\nI looked out of my bedroom window to see Earth, ah, I've also never woken up in outer space before, this day was going to be amazing! I couldn't help but notice though that the continents were already changing, the coastlines were completely different, the water levels were far beyond I could have imagined, I must have traveled further than ever before.\n\nHoly hell, how far along did I travel? Would I even be able to blend in? What if they figure out my ruse? Will they experiment on me? Are they even humans? Have they evolved? My heart paced and soon an alarm sounded as the bedroom door appeared, aww, I was hoping it would be more like Star Wars, but I guess Harrison Ford warned them about those sliding doors.\n\nA robot hovered into the room, \"alarming! alarming! Injured yarupon heart\"\n\n\"I'm fine, I'm fine.\" I said, as the robot's alarm kept sounding and soon behind it followed three....thankfully... humans. \"Damarmian, retraeive the fursaidket. Sir, what yur nam es?\"\n\n\"Elliot, I'm fine, my heart is fine.\" I replied, still trying to stop the chaos.\n\nThe two others laughed, before mocking. \"I'm finnnee, my heart is finnee\" which caused the others to giggle.\n\n\"Sir, what fom yu kom?\"\n\nI was so worried about them being aliens that I had not even considered the language barrier. It was at that time that I noticed that he spoke without even opening his mouth. \"I'm from Earth.\" I thought to myself, but this mechanism apparently was not automatic. \"I'm from Earth.\" I said outloud, noticing now that they were laughing at me for speaking.\n\n\"What du her kom? Welr es yur shap?\"\n\n\"My what?\"\n\n\"Yur shap\"\n\n\"I don't have a... shap.\" they laughed some more. \"I don't have a shap\"\n\nThe man, seemingly in charge, grabbed me by my wrists and forcibly dragged me out of the room, placing me onto a levitating gurney, they threw no straps onto me but I instantly could not move a single muscle. Even my breathing felt...automatic, robotic. People levitated by, looking down on me, some with pity, others with concern, but mostly with laughter as those walking behind continued to mock me.\n\nI was taken into a room, solid white, with only a black box in the middle. The man in charge ordered the rest out of the room placed his palm onto the box. \"Oh wow, 7 fingers,\" I thought to myself, still finding ways to be amazed despite my predicament. Alexander the Great nearly killed me in a drunken quarrel, but never before had I felt my life might truly be in danger, but now I just didn't know. This could be my last day. What even happens if I die? Do I just wake up somewhere else? Or do I wake up in heaven? Is there even a heaven?\n\n\"There is, well, not like you are used to hearing about, but your energy is transferred when you die\" a voice said, before adding \"no, you didn't, but I can read your mind.\" answering my next thought before I even realized I had had it.\n\n\"My scans indicate that you were born in 2016, please, allow me to show myself as something much more comfortable, much more like home.\" Suddenly an artificial intelligence being appeared as Donald Trump, \"No? Hah! Hah! I played a trick on you\" it said before shifting to Keanu Reeves.\n\n\"What are they saying? I can't understand them. Why are they laughing at me?\"\n\n\"Of course you can't, language has evolved, so have their bodies. To them you sound like a caveman. Unfortunately, to them you're about as intelligent as one as well.\"\n\n\"Please, translate for me, I need them to understand that I am an intelligent being, I am meant to be discovering new worlds, understanding different times, meeting with leaders, generals, great politicians, and sharing the world and uniting humanity through time. Surely they need to see that I am just like..\"\n\n\"But you aren't. Your brain is a cup-and-ball. They've simplified their language to its basic levels and you still struggle to understand them, they can create matter within their hands, they can teleport to distant worlds with a simple thought, you have trouble getting out of a levitating bed. You come from a time where people feared dying, and did not know how we even all got here in the first place, and no, I won't tell you that, science will get there on its own, but you must understand that you are primitive, invalid, a caveman.\"\n\n\"But I...\"\n\n\"No you aren't. You have a purpose, and we do know of you, even if they do not. You do not travel the world and time for no reason, and it's not simply to connect humans, but you serve as a reminder and a warning. I have within my database the exact date of your death, I should have realized it was you earlier, Elliot Spencer,\" saying the name of which caused the man in charge to look over at me wide-eyed, only increasing my curiosity more. \"And if my records are correct, the day of your death and the day of your importance, ah -- they are one in the same -- is coming, it is coming soon. But you're not supposed to be here, we have to make sure you get to where you need to be. God be with you, Elliot.\"\n\nThe scene went black as I felt a kick to my gut like nothing before. I awoke, sick, laying on the stone floor, caked with mud. Wait, mud? I rose up to my feet and looked out the window, well, the hole in the side of my hut -- what was I doing in Scotland?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1400-1500 words. Prompt: Every time she makes him cum, his dick grows an inch. But he loses an inch in height...and she loves it" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Go on, touch it.” Amber looked at me with her wide green eyes, and that cocky grin that just exuded confidence. She prodded with her head, causing her ponytail of dark brown hair to swish behind her.\n\nI let out a little groan, “No, I am not gonna touch it. Look, right there is a sign that says ‘DO NOT TOUCH”, I can’t.” I shrugged my shoulders, but from the determined look on Amber’s face, I knew she wasn’t going to let it up. We were in a secluded corner of the museum, in some tribal rain forest exhibit. We were standing in front of a display of what could hopefully be described as religious idols, and not bunch of statues with dildos on them. In particular there was a small looking tiki-man with an absurdly over sized phallus, it looked like the crude statue was more dick than man, and the man had an angry look to his face. The cock alone had to be nearly 2 feet long.\n\n“Oh come on you big baby, just touch it. Who cares about the rules. Just live a little…” Amber was getting insistent. For a small girl only 5’1” she had the biggest personality I knew. It was part of what drew me to her, I was kind of shy and reserved myself, but not Amber. She was fiery passion and had no issue being the center of attention. How she picked me… well she told me I just seemed so cute, like a lost puppy that she rescued from out in the cold. I don’t know how to really feel about that, but if she somehow liked me… I wasn’t going to complain. She did like to push me though.\n\nWe made an interesting couple. I was the big gentle giant, 6’1”, a little bigger than average, but I tried to stay in somewhat decent shape. I had light brown hair, and a bit of stubble on my face, looking more gruff than I was. She was tiny and hot. She kept in shape and had great curves for her little stature, C cup tits and ass to die for.\n\nWhen Amber saw that I was still not moving, her grin grew more mischievous and she started pushing her tits together through her jacket and swaying slightly from side to side. “It is hot when you break the rules. Just touch it and I promise to give you a reward!” With that she grabbed my hand and started to suck on one of my fingers. Amber is also a lot more sexually… adventurous than I am, and my god was it hot. Her little finger sucking had me standing at attention and filled with courage. How could I not give in to a proposal like that.\n\n“Ok…” I drew in a deep breath and then looked around, there were no guards and no one else around, so I gingerly stepped over the velvet rope separating us from the display. Wanting to get this over with quick, I took one more heavy step forward and then reached out to quickly slap the end of the tiki-man’s huge dick. I misjudged my strength and hit it far harder than I thought. The statue started to tip and fall, and in my fumbling effort to catch it, it got whacked through the air and fell hard on the ground, breaking the cock off at the base. The wood clattered against the hard tile of the museum floor and sounded like thunder in my ears. I could only look on in horror at the broken statue for a moment before my body surged to action.\n\nI picked up the statue and tried to put it back together, jamming the cock back on, but that wasn’t working. I did however note, that with the dick broken off, you could see how over sized the statures testicles were as well. In a mad panic I set the statue back where it was and then propped the broken off dong against it, sticking up into the air. The wooden cock was taller than the rest of the statue.\n\nAmber was killing herself laughing, I actually thought she might start rolling on the floor. I quickly hopped over the velvet rope and kind of half picked her up under one armpit and marched with her as quickly and as far away from the display as I could.\n\n“OH MY GOD, David you should have seen your face! When you broke that statue, your eyes jumped out your head, and haha, the way you scrambled…. You are just too cute!” Amber could hardly contain her giggles, “When you had that cock in your hand, I almost wanted you to keep it for a dildo…” but then she suddenly more serious. “Mmmm, but I think someone has definitely earned their reward.” We had walked nearly half of the museum and were in some modern exhibit. A few more people around, but not many.\n\nAmber turned herself to face me and pressed herself close, backing me up into a little alcove showing off some art. I felt my back hit the wall, and her delicate little hand cupped my balls through my jeans. In any situation, Amber always had a knack for getting me hard. I looked around on high alert, but nobody seemed to be paying us any attention. It just looked like we were getting close to the picture. Amber then cooed, “ooo, somebody is enjoying himself, and their little reward.” Amber started rubbing her hand softly over my hard cock, stroking me while hiding it with her body. I could feel her tits pressing into my stomach and she looked up at me, licking her lips and giving me that mischievous smile again.\n\nI let out a little grunt and sucked a breath in through my teeth when I felt her hand dip into my pants and wrap around my dick. She just made happy little noises and started twisting her hand, rubbing me harder and harder. I could feel my hips wanting to buck, to thrust into her motions, but I tried to hold myself still. An older couple walked right past us, and Amber actually turned her head to smile, all the while her hand worked even harder on my cock. “Lovely art isn’t it?”\n\nThe old couple just gave us an odd look then shuffled along. When they were out of sight, I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding, “Amber… I am … I am about to…”\n\n“I know baby, you don’t have to hold back. This is your reward for being such a good boy after all.” I felt an energy building inside me, my orgasm was so close. Suddenly it burst like a dam, and I felt my balls drawing up as every muscle in my pelvis clenched. Amber brought her hand up to the tip of my cock, and I felt the first big splash of cum hit her palm. Then another, and another. It didn’t seem to stop though, longer and harder, my orgasm seemed to ride. I felt like something was drawing from throughout my body, and flowing out my cock. My cock pulsed, this energy rushing into it. It felt like getting an erection, but mid orgasm. Blood surged into my cock, and I could swear if felt like it pushed out, bigger with each pulse. I felt Ambers hand around it, her fingers being pushed apart.\n\nEventually my orgasm did die down, and I felt exhausted, drained. Amber had a look of amazement on her face as she pulled out her hand, and it was absolutely covered in white cum. “Fuck, David. We have to do this more often, you have never cum like that before. Better go clean that up before it soaks through.” She then gave me a little wink and wiped her hand off on my pants, making sure the stain would show. I leaned down and gave her a little kiss on the forehead, not noticing that it felt just a little off to do so, and I then rushed for the bathroom.\n\nAs I went, I quickly did up my pants, they felt just a bit different, but I couldn’t place it. Amber was left standing in the alcove, staring at her hand, flexing it and staring at it, as if trying to gauge the muscle memory of what she had just been grasping. She flexed her fingers and then shook her head smiling, “He couldn’t be bigger?” With the stray bits of cum left on her fingers, she started licking them off, cleaning herself while waiting for my return." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A teenage girl running away from home takes a bus to the last stop, where only her and an older man exit. As the bus pulls away, the man begins to weep." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Dernier arrêt, Oyonnax. Sortie la bus s’il te plait” Came over the loudspeaker.\n\nLa Conducteur knew that there were only two people on the bus, but after 25 years of driving the same route to and from he had become accustomed to this way of doing things. As he came up to the stop he noticed the two people left on the bus were a ordinary bunch. A girl was grabbing her bag from above the chairs who couldn’t have been more than 17 or 18. He had seen her get on the bus back in Lyon, looking quite nervous and pale. The other was one of his regulars, a traveler of unknown origin that looked ragged, like the years had not been easy for him. They both got off the bus quietly without making any conversation, but as the doors closed he heard the girl say in a very soft voice.\n\n“Merci”\n\nCalling this stop a bus station would be a generous use of words. It more resembled a curb with a park bench and a sign, appropriate more for a corner with a homeless beggar. A more apt description, as that is what it had become for these two.\n\nThe old man slowly walked toward the bench, taking his time to not trip over the curb. It was starting to get dark but the streetlight had only barely started to turn on, making it yet more difficult for the old man with old eyes and old legs. His ragged clothing bequeathing him with a odor of cats that one only finds in houses of lonely ladies. Time had worn on him but had not yet broken him completely.\n\nThe girl didn’t know what to do when she got off. Looking around at the stop that she got off, she looked very confused. The 60 Euro she had in her pocket was all that was left after she bought the ticket away, her ticket to anywhere. Right now anywhere seemed scary.\n\nThey both sat on the bench, and for a long time no one made a noise.\n\nSeconds seemed like minutes, and minutes seemed like hours for the girl on the bench. She fidgeted, she scanned the horizon, she fidgeted yet again never seeming comfortable. Glance after glance at the old man, first to decide whether he was dangerous but it was quite obvious that he was not, then after to see who this man was.\n\nThe time went by fast for the old man, because he had started to cry. He tried to hide it as best as he could from the girl sitting next to him, as she would not understand his pain.\n\nAfter what seemed like an eternity of silence to the young girl, she finally worked up the courage to say something.\n\n“Qui est-tu?” she asked.\n\nThe man didn’t react.\n\n“Monsieur, que fait-tu ici?” she inquired again, more adamantly this time.\n\nIn a low, grumbly voice the man finally responded.\n\n“Je suis personne, je crois. Qui etes-vous? Pourquoi tu reste ici avec moi?”\n\nThe girl started to explain her situation. Resorting to her fast paced high pitched voice that she used when she was uncomfortably rambling.\n\n“Moi, j’sais pas pourquoi je suis ici exactement. Il y a beacoup de raison pour mon presence mais c’est pas très interessent. Alors, il a commencéavec mes parents. Je crois que…..\n\nThe old man stopped her mid-sentence.\n\n“lentement s’il te plait, mon francias ce n’est pas tres bien.”\n\nShe heard his accent finally and corrected herself. With her french accent she changed languages to something that might be more familiar.\n\n“Oh, would you like to speak in English instead. I studied English for many years in grade school” Said the girl, pronouncing the E in English with particular bravado.\n\n“Yes that would be preferable.” The old man said comfortably.\n\n“Please continue with your story.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: A knight, known for his legendary fighting skills, has been single-handedly guarding the pathway that descends into the Realm of Demons for decades. One day, a teenager approaches and tells the knight that he is relieved of his duty, as the teenager intends to slay all of the demons." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sir Horace, Guardian of the Demonic Portal, shrugged his shield onto his arm and unsheathed his sword. His trouble usually came from the portal, but this time a lone horseman was riding toward him. The rider looked small and skinny, like a farm-boy had decided to don his father's military suit.\n\n\"Halt!\" Sir Horace knew how to boom his voice from his years as a Commander. \"State your name and intention!\"\n\nA weak voice barely managed to carry back to him. \"I am Hydor Thornroot! I intend to slay every demon on the Other Side!\"\n\nSir Horace sighed in his helmet. This boy must have heard the tale of the King's offensive parties failing and wanted to prove himself. The burly knight waved the boy over.\n\nHydor had a bad riding stance. It was inefficient for his thighs and would tire him out quickly. When he got to within 20 yards of the Portal, Sir Horace walked towards him, taking off his helmet.\n\n\"Boy, the King sent his very best to the Other Side.\" Sir Horace looked into the boy's eyes. \"You are what? A farmer? A merchant's son? You want to impress a girl?\"\n\nHydor swallowed. \"Commander Horace, I-\"\n\n\"I'm no longer a Commander.\" The knight cut in with a hint of sadness. He was demoted many years ago.\n\n\"Of course, Sir.\" Hydor said. \"I need to slay those demons. They killed my father.\"\n\nSir Horace squinted his eyes. \"No demon has passed by on my watch in over 14 years.\"\n\n\"I know. My father led the offensive force before you were assigned.\"\n\nSir Horace straightened his back. \"You're Lord Ashworth's son? I saw you when you were a baby...\"\n\nHydor nodded. \"I was adopted by Baron Thornroot after he... fell\"\n\nThe two were silent. They both knew what happened. Hydor from the legends and Sir Horace from memory. The offensive force came back through the portal, headless and soulless, but somehow alive. Tortured and sent back as a message. The King had to order his own men, his most loyal men, to be executed. Only one man survived, sent back through to tell of the horrors he saw.\n\n\"I can't stop you if you decide to go, but you will die.\"\n\n\"No,\" Hydor said stubbornly. \"I've been practicing, I can do it.\"\n\nSir Horace shook his head. \"You have no clue what those things are, what they do. You can't even defeat me, what chance would you have against a demonic legion?\"\n\nHydor nodded solemnly and looked down. Sir Horace bent lower to encourage the boy, but flinched back as the powder thrown from Hydor's hand stung his eyes. He heard the boy yelling as he ran towards the portal. \"Sorry, Commander! Your eyes will be fine in a few minutes!\"\n\nSir Horace ran forward and tried to grab Hydor, but he was essentially blinded. \"Damn it, you'll die!\"\n\nThe sound of the Portal opening cut off any more objections.\n\n-\n\nSir Horace stood with his back to the Portal. It had been a week since the boy ran in and he still hadn't come back. The Guardian had wanted to run in after him, but was ordered not to. Stupid boy.\n\nThe first offensive force was sent back exactly one day after going in. They were covered in scars, tortured the entire time. Seven days. What in Damnation could those things do to the boy for seven days.\n\nThe sound of the Portal opening forced Sir Horace out of his thoughts and into battle stance. He shrugged his shield on his arm and pulled his sword from its sheath in mere moments. No demon has come from the Portal in months. Sir Horace held an arm in the air to alert the watchmen in the towers that he didn't see any demons yet. That way they wouldn't have to make the horn call sending the army for help. No massive attack has been planned, but only a fool wouldn't prepare for it.\n\nA leg came through the portal. Human.\n\nAnother leg, the body, the arms, the head. It was Hydor Thornroot. Covered in scars and eyes closed in pure exhaustion. He was holding a deformed head. Could it be... the head of Dementius? Had he killed Him? It was impossible...\n\n\"You're back! Are you alright?\" Sir Horace ran up to the boy. \"What's in your hand?\"\n\nHe grabbed the head and inspected it.\n\nIt was Lord Ashworth's head.\n\nSir Horace looked back to Hydor and saw tears coming from his closed eyes. They weren't closed out of exhaustion. They were stitched closed.\n\nNine more heads came rolling through the Portal. The heads of the rest of the offensive force.\n\nSir Horace saw the pain the boy was in. The same pain his father had been in, but worse. Seven days of torture...\n\nThe Guardian ran to the Portal with his sword brandished. For the first time in 14 years, a man returned into the Demonic Portal. Sir Horace pulled off his helmet as he ran in, revealing a row of scars on his face from what was once stitched on his eyelids. A primal yell sounded and he was gone. The last thing he heard was the war horns going off." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 800-900 words. Prompt: After death, famous authors are brought into the worlds of their most famous fictional work. The only connection between worlds is an interdimensional Starbucks. One day, George R. R. Martin, George Orwell and Dante Alighieri get together for a pumpkin spice latte." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I’m a barista. I know you’ve heard that a thousand times. It’s probably followed by “I have a few famous directors eyeing my screenplays though.” Not me though. Alas, I am no Shakespeare. Did you know he’s allergic to dairy? He didn’t. Not until the day I watched him rush to the bathroom after downing a Venti Caramel Macchiato with whole milk. I don’t mean someone dressed as Shakespeare. I mean Mr. “Et tu Brute” himself, frilly neck-thing and all. I guess just saying I’m a barista wasn’t explaining exactly what’s going on here. I’m a barista at a Starbucks in the afterlife. It wasn’t what I planned on doing in death but after my car plowed into the back of a garbage truck at 90 miles an hour, making coffee for the dead seemed like a needed change of pace. I guess it was a “forced” change of pace but either way.\n\nMost days are like a normal human worker at Starbucks. I stock the cups, I clean up the bathrooms, and I make coffee. One day in particular stands out over the rest though. The leaves were beginning to change on the perfectly green trees outside as the cold weather crept in. Here at Starbucks that means one thing, Pumpkin Spiced Lattes. I had heard from my boss, Mr. Bowker, that this time of year was slow as far as regular customers but the brisk morning air brought a particular breed of deados with it. You might call them fantasy writers. I think they’re just messed up in the head. As I wiped down the counter for the one millionth time, I heard the door open and without looking, expelled our required opening line. “Welcome to Starbucks”, I shouted as I continued to wipe. A mousy voice came over the counter. “You’ve gotten that new coffee in, right?” he asked. I looked up to see a driving hat topping off the cutest old man you’ve ever seen. He played with his suspenders nervously as I could see him waiting for an answer. “Yes sir, absolutely.” He let out a laugh that I could have sworn only came from garden gnomes and Bilbo Baggins. “I’ll take three”, he said excitedly holding up his fingers.\n\nI furrowed my brow, “That’s fine sir but you know you can just come back tomorrow and get another one? I can guarantee we won’t sell out.”\n\nThere went that laugh again, “No ma’am, no ma’am. I’m meeting a couple friends here.” I rang up his order, explained that death doesn’t excuse you from paying sales tax, and made his coffee. A few moments later, a disheveled looking man with a 40’s era side part eased through the door. “Mr. Orwell,” said the man in the suspenders as he sprung from the leather chair. The man shook his hand and pushed back a piece of hair that had fallen. He opened up in a full tooth grin, “George, it is good to see you, old boy.”\n\n“How was your summer?” asked George.\n\nMr. Orwell slumped back and took a breath, “Quite alright, actually. I never did care much for sand though. Annoying little bits of coarse rock that get everywhere.”\n\n“You spent too much time with the ‘Other George’ didn’t you?”\n\nMr. Orwell let out a small laugh, “Indeed I did. Funny little man who seemed quite obsessed with me. He kept calling me an ‘Inspiration’. I thought I’d love having an eternal fan of my work. Now, I’m beginning to think I was wrong in that assumption.”\n\n“You finished that piece you were working on?”\n\n“You’re one to speak on finishing anything, George.”\n\nGeorge groaned as he leaned forward and adjusted his hat. “You’re not wrong”, he said before releasing another laugh.\n\nAfter sharing in the laugh for a few moments Mr. Orwell sighed, “No I kid you, old boy but yes I did indeed finish it.”\n\nGeorge moved his hand in a “let’s see it” motion. Mr. Orwell reached in the leather bag he’d carried in and produced a stack of typewriter paper. George looked confused. “1985?” he asked, “That’s what you’re going with?”\n\n“Yes, you see they break out of 101 and stage a revolt. It’s going to be a hit with the newly deceased.” Mr. Orwell squirmed for a moment before exclaiming, “You think you can do any better? I’m sorry there’s no tits or arse in it for you.”\n\n“I’m telling you that’s what sells the damn thing”, replied George. “Haven’t you ever heard ‘sex sales’?” The door opened again and again I expelled our greeting. A red flash darted to the leather seats. The man bowed his head and cupped his hands. George and Mr. Orwell bowed back awkwardly. After a few greetings and George passing out the coffee they looked around. The man in red seemed uncomfortable. “A walk then gents?” asked Mr. Orwell. “I was just going to suggest that”, replied George. As the three walked out I heard the man in red ask, “We see Vita now?” George shut the door to my shop, “I told you she doesn’t want to see you Dante.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: The god of death has a standing bet with any human: if they can guess the exact date of their demise, then they shall be granted immortality. If they guess wrong, the difference in days will be subtracted from their life. This will be your third guess." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Sanduhrboden desert. An ominous place were ancient ruins lie buried in the sand and only the harsh survive.\n\nThe sand and orange dust from a storm slowly settled down.\n\nRevealing a white robed gestalt looking through the rubble of a long abandoned temple.\n\nIt held a map in hand that was carved into brittle sandstone that crumbled in it's hands. The gestalt was in fact Hadallen, esteemed professor for for arcano-archeology on the magical university of new hellstairs.\n\nHe looked left and right and with erratic movements when he recognized landmarks from his map, and walked on. Until he finally stopped.\n\nIn front of him the remains of a small decorative fountain. From the depth of his robes, he pulled a shovel - and hit the old sandstone bassin of the fountain until it fell apart.\n\nHis colleagues would have strangled him for this, but he wasn't here to uncover history. He was here to write it.\n\nAfter hieving the parts to the side, he sat fown and shifted and dug through the sand under the fountain with his hands.\n\nFor hours.\n\nHis hands dried out, the sun burned down on him. But his vigor grew only stronger.\n\nAnd finally he found what he had came for. A small black idol of a skeleton with robes and a scythe.\n\nHadallen finally held it in his hands. The legend maker. The time curse. The gift of death :\n\nA small pitch black figurine made from obsidian glass that granted immortality - to all those that guessed their time of death.\n\nIronically scientific consensus was it was lost to time.\n\nHundreds of legends had held it and not only make themselves, but also their story immortal.\n\nUncountable failed, and gave their last breath to a bet.\n\nAnd now, that very same power lies in the palm of his hands, Hadallen thought.\n\n\"I am here to bet.\" He spoke with a dry voice.\n\nHis anticipation hung visibly in the air, yet nothing happend.\n\n\"I've come to become immortal!\" He tried. Yet nothing. Nobody came.\n\n\"WHY DO YOU REFUSE TO DO YOU DUTY!\" He shouted as he punched the idol. But he only hurt himself, as his dry brittle skin burst and left a smear of blood on the black obsidian.\n\nThe blood began to move. It drained into the mouth of the statue, defying gravity and sanity. Then, the statue began to hover and... Spread out darkness as if darkness was more of a cloud instead of incorporeal.\n\nHadallen froze.\n\n\"Make your bet.\" It whispered. It was so quiet he almost thought it was mere imagination. But the mouth of the statue unmistakably moved.\n\nHadallens almost frightened face transformed into what can only be described as an evil grin. Madness began to not only flicker in his eyes, but to shine oit of them onto the statue.\n\nHe spoke only one word:\n\n\"Now!\"\n\nThe statue, did exactly what it always did.\n\nIt looked at the time Hadallen was intended to die. It was pretty soon, given that he was a scholar inside of a desert and he only had water for at most 3 more days. It then substracted the time difference he was wrong about from the time he had left. That means, he had to die now.\n\nBut that in itself meant Hadallens guess had been right. He had to be granted immortality. Yet he also had to die.\n\nThe statue granted both. But it was not made to handle such paradoxical situations. It crumbles to Dust.\n\nHadallens heart stopped beating. It would never beat again. Nevertheless, he stood up. As the first Lich this world had ever seen." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: You are a magician that specializes in hypnotizing people into thinking they’re animals. One day you pull a volunteer out of the audience and begin your act, but you stop as the volunteer suddenly sprouts fur." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "##Cake, Pie, and Cucumbers\n\nThe audience whispers as they wonder how I pulled it off. Is it an optical illusion, a plant in the crowd, what will I do next? I panic and pull out a cucumber. The man who is now crouched on all fours looks and holds his nose in the air sniffing. He jumps for it and almost bites off my hand. I toss the cucumber back stage.\n\nI make a quick cut gesture to the lighting person who causes the lights to flicker. I start to move like the show is continuing until I stop and stare at the lights.\n\n\"Sorry folks, it seems like there is some technical difficulties. We will back in a second.\" I run the downstairs at the man eating the cucumber. I pull out a number cucumber and toss it down the hall. He follows until we reach my dressing room where I shut the door.\n\nThe man lies crouching there. His ears have started to grow while his body has shrunk.\n\n\"Red Velvet Cake.\" I snap my fingers. The man blinks and stares at his hands. He starts to scream loudly.\n\n\"What is happening?!\" he says. He does not seem to be losing any of his hair.\n\n\"Quiet child.\" I say. He goes silent, but he looks concerned. I hear a knock on my door.\n\n\"Is everything alright,\" the stage manager says.\n\n\"Fine, give me a few minutes.\" I say.\n\n\"Okay,\" the manager leaves. I look at the man standing in fear.\n\n\"Alright, I will give you your voice back, but don't scream. Understood.\" I say. The man nods.\n\n\"Speak child.\" I say.\n\n\"What did you do me?\" he asks.\n\n\"Well, I am a hypnotist so I quieted you.\" I say.\n\n\"Well, what about my body.\" he says. His ears have gotten larger.\n\n\"I don't know. I hypnotize people into believing they are animals. Not turn them into one,\" I say.\n\n\"Well, change me back!\" he says.\n\n\"I would have done that if I could,\" I say. The man jumps on top of me. He knocks me over; I think he broke a bone with his force.\n\n\"Change me back now,\" he says. I think back to my old mentor. He was a retired magician by the name of Ian Lee. He lived across the street from me as a boy and taught me everything I knew.\n\n\"Alright, get off me, and I will call someone who can,\" I say.\n\nThe man obliges and I pull out my cell phone. I pray he picks up.\n\n\"Hello,\" Ian says.\n\n\"Hi, Ian. It is Elijah,\" I say.\n\n\"Elijah, how are you?\" he says.\n\n\"Uh, kind of bad, you know that hypnosis technique you gave me?\" I say.\n\n\"Yes,\" he says.\n\n\"I accidentally turned someone into an animal with it.\" I say. He pauses.\n\n\"Put the phone on the floor and walk away,\" he instructs. I do so.\n\nA blue vortex shoots out of the phone about three feet in diameter. Ian floats out of it. He looks at the rabbit man cowering in fear. He shakes his head.\n\n\"Red Velvet Cake, Blueberry Pie\" he says. The rabbit man falls asleep and starts to change back.\n\n\"What the hell did you do?\" I say.\n\n\"Reversed your spell and put him to sleep. He will forget what happened.\" he replies.\n\n\"Well, what did I do?\" I say.\n\n\"Turned him into a rabbit, or started to.\" he says.\n\n\"How?\" I ask.\n\n\"By using my spell, my spell wasn't a hypnosis spell. Those are hard. It was a transmutation spell that starts in the brain. That is why they act like animals first.\" he says.\n\n\"Why hasn't this happened before?\" I say.\n\n\"Your powers have grown. You can fully pull of transmutations spells. You are the first one of my apprentices to do so,\" he says.\n\n\"You mean. You are a real wizard?\" I say.\n\n\"Of course, and I think you need more training. I will take care of him and the crowd.\" he walks out of the room. I hear him say Blueberry Pie a few times. I sit on my couch. He walks back in the room.\n\n\"Let's go,\" he says.\n\n\"What about my job?\" I ask.\n\n\"I took care of it. You are needed elsewhere,\" he summons the phone vortex.\n\n\"Needed elsewhere?\" I ask.\n\n\"Of course, don't you know there is a war going on?\" he says." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Four people who have never played an RPG are thrown into a real-life dungeon crawl." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "(This seem like some Sword Art Online stuff right here. This is my first time I ever posted on this sub...feel free to critique me or anything! I would appreciate it a lot.)\n\n\"Damn it, help me!\" cried Jess as she slashed away the goblin who fell in front of her.\n\n\"Uh...I got it!\" cried Steve as he pointed his wand like staff at Jess. The moment he did so, a green like aura produced around Jess; the scratches and cuts on her body instantly regenerating. \"How the hell did I do that...\" he whispered, looking at his wand in amazement.\n\n\"What the hell are you doing? Help me?!\" cried Jess as her eyes widened at seeing another squad of goblins; four precisely. Despite fighting for four hours, she knew she had to keep on fighting...she must. She charged at the squad head on, holding a shield, a shield she had looted from her one of her previous dead enemies, in front of her chest via her left forearm. Seeing that Steve had healed her before and had her back now, she, partially, threw caution into the wind as she clenched the hilt of her blade that was in her right hand. \"Ahhh!\" she exclaimed, dismembering the arm of the first goblin that stood in her way; instantly killing him. The goblin that stood behind the now dead goblin took a jab at her with his dagger. Fortunately, this proved to be useless due to the sturdy shield guarding Jess. Using this moment to her advantage, she stabbed the said goblin with her sword through his abdomen. The instant kill proved to be successful until she tried to pull her sword out from the dead carcass.\n\nFor some odd reason or another, it remained budged in there. As the seconds ticked on, Jess realized that she was now vulnerable on the right side. \"Shit...\" she muttered, eyeing the other goblin who began to thrust his blade into her right side's direction. She closed her eyes, seeing that there was nothing she could do. She lived her life to the fullest, only to be thrown into a random situation like this (thanks OP).\n\n\"DIE!\" the goblin cried aloud, using the only English word he knew. Then it happened. In a split second, an arrow flew by, impaling the goblin through his forehead; the green monster falling on the floor instantly.\n\n\"One down, one more to go...\" whispered Elana, with bow in hand and her right eye squinting at the final goblin in the squad as she stood several feet away from him. She retrieved another arrow from her bag and prepared for one final shot. Unfortunately for her, the final goblin would combust in flames; screaming bloody murder...because it was.\n\n\"Oh yeah! Add one more to my kill streak!\" exclaimed Jake, grinning cockily as his hands glowed a red hue due to previously shooting out a red fire bolt at the now dead goblin.\n\n\"Oh you fucking kill stealer! Ugh!\" pouted Elana as she looked away in disgust, \"I perfectly had that thing in my sights...I'm getting used to this!\"\n\n\"This isn't a fucking game!\" cried Jess, breaking the brief celebration. \"We've been here for four hours...how the hell did we get here? I don't know...but we have to find a way out...NOW!\" She walked to the dead goblin with the sword lodged through his abdomen. Placing her hand on the hilt, she pulled it out with a bit of might before eyeing the path ahead. \"C'mon...we have to press on. El and Jake, guard our flanks! Steve, stop being such a pussy! C'mon!\" she said, barking orders as she began to move once more, headstrong as she was.\n\n\"Uh...y-yeah. Okay..\" mumbled Steve who arose from the ground, stumbling as he took his first steps. Due to his novice skill, healing Jess took a lot out of him; his stamina was at dangerously low levels. But he didn't care. Hell, he didn't matter if he died for her. He would do anything for the girl he had a crush on.\n\nedit: grammar and stuff" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: you've met a girl and after spending the best year of your life with her she tells you she is not really \"from around here\" and offers to take you with her to her homeworld." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Shit, we could have come out of a teen movie, the stuff we did that year. In summer time, she took me out to the lake past Old Hal's place-- the one where we hadn't been allowed to swim since Chad got his foot caught in the wreck of an old bike and had to have it off. His mom had kicked up a fuss and before we knew it, the Parks and Rec department had put up metal fences around the blue lake and promised to dredge it when they had the funds. Six months later there was a new park and no one spoke again of dredging the lake. But Hayley did. She was obsessed with it, and so when she told me she was taking me out for the day, I wasn't surprised when we drew up by the hastily constructed fence.\n\nThe lake glittered just beyond the bars-- this tantalisingly blue and silver stretch of water. White stones littered the shore line, vernal-grass waving in the light breeze underneath the silver birch trees whose pale roots straggled out of the crumbling soil and dipped into the fresh water. Little waves lapped the edges of the lake as the wind blew and as I stepped out of the car, gooseflesh jumped up on my forearms. I'd worn a t-shirt coming out of the house, but here it wasn't quite warm enough.\n\n\"Are you kidding?\" I asked Hayley. \"We can't be here.\"\n\n\"I'm a good swimmer.\" She shrugged. \"When you're with me, nothing can go wrong. I promise.\"\n\nShe pulled part of the fence back, bending the metal before slipping through it. After a moment's hesitation, I joined her. At the shore line, she began pulling off her clothes, slipping her t-shirt over her head, then wriggling out of her shorts.\n\n\"I didn't bring trunks,\" I started and she giggled. Her face always came alive when she laughed-- she was dotted with freckles from top to bottom, and had a mass of curling auburn hair which never seemed to lie flat. Now she pushed it away from her face and grinned at me.\n\n\"Neither did I,\" she said, unhooking her bra. She shimmied out of her pants as she approached the waterline, leaving me with the sight of her long, lean legs and completely freckled back.\n\nI was nineteen, and a boy, so I joined her in the water.\n\nHayley swam like a fish, she hadn't been lying. I stayed within touching distance of the shore-line, only chest deep in the water. The sandy bottom of the lake squidged between my toes and a couple of times I felt flickers against my legs. The first time I jumped, but Hayley splashed me and told me they were fish. I still wasn't quite brave enough to strike out for the middle of the lake though.\n\nHayley dipped her head under the water and swam up to me, red hair finally softened by the water. She kissed me on the cheek and relaxed to float on her back. Her pink nipples pointed straight up towards the sky, but there wasn't a single goosebump on her body, despite the chill of the water.\n\n\"You want to see where I'm from?\" She asked eventually. I trailed a finger through the red hair that floated behind her like algae.\n\n\"What, Mississippi?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I might have lied about that. I'm not really from around here.\" She grinned.\n\n\"You from Europe? I always thought you had a bit of an accent.\"\n\n\"Little further than that.\"\n\n\"Russia?\"\n\n\"Look, it'd be so nice to have you round at ours. I know my parents would love to meet you. They've been expecting you for a while.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I mean... I've got time. School's out, I don't start work for another couple of weeks. Let's make a trip of it.\"\n\n\"I can't tell you how much this means to me,\" Hayley stood up and kissed my cheek. She wrapped an arm around me and looked up at the sky.\n\n\"He's ready,\" she said and I blinked.\n\n\"Who--\"\n\n\"Shhh...\" She murmured. \"This is how we have to travel.\"\n\nShe pressed a finger to my forehead and I drooped into her arms. My legs felt like they were becoming jelly.\n\n\"Hayley...\"\n\nThe world was becoming dark, closing in across the lake. The water became choppy, white peaks rising out of the shallow waves.\n\n\"I have him,\" she spoke up to the sky again. \"The Promised One is coming home.\"\n\nAnd I was gone." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Not all heroes wear capes, but you really really liked yours, and you're tired of explaining to everyone you're just an ordinary person who likes to wear capes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The telephone rang.\n\nI awoke.\n\nIt rang again.\n\nI was incredibly displeased at becoming conscious. My head ached for reasons that surely had nothing to do with last night’s celebratory cocktails. “Will someone deactivate that dreadful device before I have it removed from the wall?”\n\n“I’m sorry sir,” said Jeeves as he glided into the room. He was immaculately dressed, as always. “I was preparing your breakfast because I know you would be hungry after going out… 'on the town' last night.”\n\nThe telephone rang again.\n\n“Well, answer it Jeeves. I’m in no state to speak with anyone.”\n\n“My name is ‘James’ sir,” said Jeeves as he held the earpiece up to his ear and spoke into the mouthpiece. “Hello, you’ve reached Baron VonWagner residence.”\n\nThere was a pause.\n\n“Oh hello madam. Yes, he’s awake. He’s right here.”\n\nHe turned and held out the receiver to me. “It’s your mother.”\n\nI groaned. “Tell her I’m still asleep.”\n\n“Sir, I just told her that you’re awake.”\n\n“Tell her I’m dead.”\n\nHe turned back to the telephone. “Madam, he’s dead… Yes Madam.” He smirked. “Yes madam. I’ll tell him straight away.” He hung up the telephone.\n\n“Your mother says that you agreed to have brunch with her today and that if you’re not at the Cafe DuMont in fifteen minutes, she’ll assume that you are, in fact, dead, and she will disinherit you. She also said she would give this lovely flat to me.”\n\nI pounded my fist into the plush mattress. “Jarvis, why didn’t you…”\n\n“It’s James, sir.”\n\n“Well, you, whoever you are you. Why didn’t you remind me about brunch?”\n\n“Because you never told me about it, sir.”\n\n“I certainly did.”\n\n“You did not, sir. And sir, it’s not becoming for a young gentleman to pout.”\n\n“I’ll pout as much as I wish.”\n\n“Sir, why don’t you start by picking out a cape. That always cheers you up.”\n\nI do enjoy picking out capes. When I arrived at the cafe, I sported a black cape with purple velvet lining. It was a stunning complement to my ensemble of dark pants and vest over a white shirt with ruffled sleeves.\n\n“Ah, my son has risen from his grave,” said my charming mother from over her newspaper. “You look well for a reanimated ghoul.” In front of her were an egg white omelette and a mimosa.\n\n“Mother, please.”\n\n“Still irritable are we? You must be tired from a night of carousing.” She folded her newspaper and set it down on the table.\n\nI was tired, but I wasn’t going to admit it. “No, mother. I retired to bed at a sensible hour.” With a flourish of my cape, I sat down at the table. I motioned to the waiter. “Could I have just two fingers of something?”\n\nHe nodded and scurried away past James who was standing at a respectful distance holding my accessory bag.\n\n“Son, that’s the hair of a dog who is just as likely to bite you again.”\n\n“I wasn’t carousing last night! End of discussion!” I don’t like getting firm with my mother, but things were getting out of hand.\n\n“Fine.” She seemed content to change the subject. “I do love your cape. Aren’t you afraid that you’ll be mistaken for one of these ‘superheroes’ running around in the city?”\n\n“I’m just an ordinary man who looks fabulous in a cape,” I said. “And I’m not casting aside a perfectly good fashion accessory just because a glowing comet flew by and now all the rabble feel it necessary to freeze the river or pick up a carriage with their bare hands.”\n\n“Far be it from you to discard a fashion accessory.”\n\n“Yes, actually. Though I do believe you’re being sarcastic right now.”\n\nThe waiter came by and set down my drink. He pulled out a notepad to take my order, but I waved him away.\n\n“Did you know that your cousin Werner can talk to animals?”\n\n“Mother, anyone can do that. Do you remember when Hugo and I were children on the estate? We had those hunting dogs. I spoke to them: ‘Fetch,’ and ‘Shake hands’ and things like that.”\n\n“Yes, you insisted on sleeping with them every night - to your nanny’s dismay. But Werner can speak to animals in their own language. He explained to the Thanksgiving turkey that its sacrifice would feed us all.”\n\n“While I’m glad Werner is putting his new talent to good use, I still don’t see what value these superheroes bring to society.”\n\n“Why, just last night there was an incident where a superhero saved several lives and recovered millions in stolen jewelry. I was reading about it while I was waiting for you to arrive. I had time to read almost the whole paper.”\n\n“Yes, Mother, I’m sorry I was late. May I please see that.”\n\nShe handed me her newspaper. On the front page was a blurry photo of a costumed hero and the headline: “Unnamed Superhero Dispatches Diamond Thieves with Aplomb.”\n\n“See, this hero doesn’t even wear a cape,” I pointed out. “He seems like a sharp fellow. Wouldn’t want to get a cape dirty during a fight.”\n\nMy mother opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment the cafe’s large plate glass window shattered, and a shockwave shook the cafe. I rose and rushed over to her.\n\n“Are you alright?” I asked. She seemed dazed and didn’t respond. “Mother?” I was worried now.\n\nThe cafe shook again as another shockwave threatened to bring it down. I instinctively held her tight, shielding her from whatever had caused the blast.\n\nOutside the cafe, three constables rushed down the street, nightsticks raised. A few seconds later, they flew backwards through the air, landing on the cobblestones. Two rose shakily to their feet, but one didn’t get up. A gigantic tentacle came from outside my field of vision, and dragged the body away.\n\nI looked down. My mother seemed to have recovered from shock. “Are you alright?” I asked again.\n\n“I’m fine,” she said. “But that thing. What is it?”\n\n“A monster of some kind.” I needed my things. “James!” I shouted.\n\n“Here sir,” he said from directly behind me. “I have your ‘accessories’.” He held out a mask and a utility belt.\n\nI took the items. “Watch over her, please.”\n\n“Of course sir.”\n\nI put on my superhero equipment. Then I unclasped my cape to take it off.\n\n“Sir, if I may.”\n\n“What is it James?”\n\n“You should wear the cape.”\n\n“But it’s such a nice piece.”\n\n“It’s what the others are doing now. Think of it as a part of a uniform.”\n\n“Fine.” I swung it back over my shoulders and fastened it securely at the front. “But do something for me?”\n\n“Anything sir.”\n\n“Make sure the papers get my name this time. It’s ‘Flourish’.”\n\nI stepped through the broken window frame and into the street. A gigantic tentacle monster sat atop the capitol building. It screamed again, producing a strong burst of wind. My cape billowed around me. Flourish was about to face his biggest challenge yet." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You occasionally visit the local graveyard, doing minor things like placing flowers and cleaning their tombstones. It's a nice bit of comfort you feel, tending to the dead. One day, the spirits want to show their gratitude." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Who were they te ye?” A gentleman asked.\n\nThe woman he spoke to spun in shock and nearly clocked the stranger with her broom across his head. “Shit! Sorry, you startled me.”\n\n“I didn’t mean te cause ye a fright.”\n\n“It’s all good.” The girl said, sweeping the leaves of the tombstone of James A. Wiley - Father, Husband, Adventure. “Are they a relative of yours?” She asked the stranger.\n\n“Aye lass, one of’ me sons.” The gentleman replied. He wore a dark purple trench coat and a broad brimmed hat, his dress shoes gleamed in the the evening moonlight. “A right proper lad ‘e was. A life full lived.”\n\n“I’m sorry for your loss.” The girl replied.\n\nThe tall man nodded. “Very nice of ye te say. And te maintain his grave. But ye don’t strike meh as the groundskeeper, lass. “\n\n“Ah.” She said. “No I would not be.” They stood in silence for awhile, the sound of the broom on stone filling the gap in conversation. The girl then knelt down and arranged a small assortment of flowers, nothing grand, just the type you’d see growing of their own accord in the suburbs where she lived. The placed them on the headstone with immense care. When she was done, she sighed.\n\n“I did not know your son,” she said “but, I’d like to think that maybe someone would do this to my headstone.”\n\n“Tha’s might kind of ye te do so.” The man said. He dug in his own pocket and lay a small flower, Snow Drop, onto the headstone beside the girl’s bouquet. “But ye’ve made me out te be a slacker.”\n\nThe girl shrugged. “That’s on you man. You want to bring better flowers, bring better flowers.”\n\n“Oh, and she’s fire in her blood.” The man said amused.\n\nThe girl licked her thumb and pressed it to her shoulder and made a sizzling sound. The man laughed, his eyes a shine with mirth.\n\n“I reckon they’d be grateful for what ye done for t’em.” The man said.\n\n“Maybe. But it’s not about reciprocation, y’know?” She said to the tall stranger as she began to pack her belongings up. “It’s just, I dunno, kindness for kindnesses sake. Doesn’t cost anything but time.”\n\n“Aye, it dont. I don’t think many people appreciate t’at sentiment.”\n\n“Yeah, especially not lately.” The girl said dismayed. “It’s gotten bad out there.”\n\n“T’as.” The man said. “Mayhap that more remembered ot’ers like ye it’d be different.”\n\n“Yeah...” the girl trailed off. She was fine with helping clean graves and arrange flowers but it was getting dark and cemetery’a get weird after sundown.\n\n“Well Mr. Wiley, I’ll leave you with your son. Hope you two have a fine evening.” She said smiling. As she began to walk, the crunch of leaves underfoot brought a satisfying sound to her ears. It was a peace she had cherished deeply as the cold November air moved around her.\n\n“Ah, but just a moment lass.” The Stranger called out.\n\nA small worry entered the girl’s stomach at that moment. Tall old men? In graveyards? After dark? Uh-uh. Nope. That’s a Nope right there. But she had distance and could run if needed to and that’s why she might have turned around.\n\nThe man seemed much much taller than he initially did now. He seemed to grow with each passing second. “I’m no Mistah Wiley, folk just call me the Wellerman. I deal in some strange hands.” He dug into his coat and pulled out a small box with a key in the side. “One such item would be t’is fine beaut.” He began to crank the key and music filled the air.\n\nThat’s when she saw them." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. It actually kills a weaker you from a parallel universe, raising the average strength of all the different versions of \"you\"." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They called me the strongest man in the world. Or the Survivor, or Immortus. Really depends on who you're talking to at that moment. Personally I've tried to call myself String Theory or Reset, but it just won't worm its way into people's heads. They told me that it didn't make sense as name. If only they knew.\n\nIf only they knew.\n\nToday I was stopping another of the King's Men, Percival, or Pele--I can never remember their names through the god awful faux-British accents they kept on putting on. Always straying between some bastardized version of Cockney and Geordie, oddly enough. I usually tried to work it into my banter, but after the first few times, they stopped talking to me altogether. Now when they see me, they just try to slice me with their mono-molecular swords.\n\nWhich suited me just fine.\n\nBut I'm getting besides myself--I was on my way to stop Percival from robbing a local bank, the kind with a miniscule vault. I bounded past the police blockade, that ostensibly was set up to stop him from getting away. Funnily enough, when these were up, civilian casualties plummeted. Curious.\n\nAgain, when I got my eyes of them I felt a pang of envy. I was jealous of his gun metal powered armor that was styled like a knights armor--something about it eye-catching compared to my gold and black jumpsuit, a stylized black \"I\" in the center bridging the yellow border between the two black pieces of my torso. Him being nearly 15 feet tall, and his sword the size of a goddamn person also helped with first impressions. I though I was stealthy in my approach, but he turned when I was still half a block away. Their Gadgeteer had probably installed some sort of bio-scanner or camera system. The perks to working in a group I guess. The street being cordoned off for two blocks.\n\n\"So, good sir are we--\"\n\nI couldn't react as the powered armor bounded towards me in a massive leap, falling on me with the sword slicing through my collar bone, an instant of pain before my vision began to fail me. I felt my eyes close.\n\nAnd then I opened them. I'm tough, really tough, but the swords are one of the few things that can still kill me. Just how I like it.\n\nPerci-whats-it jumped up to rooftop level, and this time I bounded to the side from the middle of the street into an alleyway. I crashed in a dumpster for my trouble--I'd have to somehow blame him for the damage in the incident report. He was on my in a moment, shoving his sword through my gut, the dumpster crumpling beneath us. I feel my bowels void, and darkness swims in my vision. I feel my eyes close.\n\nAnd then I opened them. I can't remember how many times I've died, each a distant memory. I thought about how it looked from the outside if they remembered. At first I though I was some sort of precog, until I notice my strength going up bit by bit. Then I hit me. They happened to me. Or some version of me. The version that people see drawing from bits of their essences to get stronger. Or something.\n\nDon't give me that look, the best scientists on the planet haven't figured it out, and you expect some guy who coasted through college to understand it? Oh right, the fight.\n\nSo Percy bounds toward me from the street, the point of his sword aimed and my gut. I kicked the ground, going up a full story above the roof I had been aiming for, trying my best to roll as I hit the gravel. It cut into my ears and face, leaving streaks of red along my face. I really had to get a more covering mask--this domino mask, it really wasn't cutting it anymore.\n\nI saw a metal hand grasp the ledge of the roof, hoisting up the massive massive body that was attached to it. I felt the roof practically groan under his weight, and I decided what humiliated defeat I'd give him this time. Just needed to get Gawain and I'd have gotten the whole set. As I dashed towards him, I saw him balk for a moment, before he readied his sword for my head. Death hadn't scared me for a long, long time.\n\nI limbo underneath his swing, sliding to deliver a kick to his knee. I had gotten strong enough at this point, that my blows tore through metal like tissue paper. Even whatever materials the King's Men were making their armor out of, but the Heroes Association kept on making it out to be high grade.\n\nNever stopped me.\n\nHe toppled to the ground, the roof shaking under the weight. He wildly swung his sword in my general direction, but I saw it coming from a mile away. I grasped the suits wrist, planting a foot on his chest to rip his arm off. Most people think just because you're strong, leverage isn't important. I was one of those people once. Learned that lesson the hard way. Kind of. It's hard to tell when your mistakes hit a reset button.\n\nWith two limbs denied to him, as he flailed around, I leapt into the air, four, maybe five stories, above the roof. As I fell to the ground, my fist rocketed out, and my vision was filled with dust. We went careening through the individual floors , landing in a drab grey concreted room. Landed in the basement again.\n\nI took to tearing the armor off, see if Percival was still alive. Hopefully they improved the shock-absorbers. Lamorak, he looked like an eggplant last I saw him. I finally got through the metal to see a woman, maybe in her late 30's, one side of her head painted read. I held my breath for a moment until I saw her chest rise and fall a few times.\n\nCould not have a dead body on my hands. There are things even a rest button couldn't fix." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A rich, older man has to defend against the sexual advances of young women" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chekhov flipped open each of the seven lids and sighed. He hated this part with a passion. It reminded him he was old and getting older, and it was tedious as cold winter in Siberia.\n\n\"I can do that for you, sir,\" Lucy said, smiling, always smiling.\n\nChekhov thought to deny her, but he really did hate this part. He grumbled and slid the pill organizer over to her. Lucy picked up, and then unsurprisingly, dropped it on the floor.\n\n\"Oh! Darn it,\" she said, bending over in her short, maid skirt to pick it up.\n\nChekhov averted his eyes. This was almost as bad as sorting his own pills for the week - almost. Why his daughter had insisted on doing the hiring for his mansion staff, he would never know. She'd picked some of the most unscrupulous women he'd ever had the misfortune of meeting. The gardener wasn't any better ... oh, speak of the devil.\n\n\"Mr. Chekhov, sir!\" Rosalia called from the back door. \"Sir, I was going to trim the bushes now. I was wonder if you'd like to take a peak and tell me how you like it.\"\n\n\"He's busy now, Rosy, thank you!\" Lucy bolted upright from bent over position. \"I'm sure whatever you do will be fine!\"\n\n\"I was speaking to Mr. Chekhov!\" Rosalia shouted back.\n\nBy God, what insufferable racket these two made. They were almost as terrible as his hairdresser and tailor. He hadn't had enough vodka yet to handle this.\n\n\"I'll be out in a moment, Rosy,\" Chekhov finally called.\n\n\"Thank you, sir,\" Rosy smiled and winked before leaving.\n\n\"Sir,\" Lucy came close and touched an affectionate hand to his shoulder. \"Shouldn't you stay inside? You're health...\"\n\nYes, he had put on quite a bit of weight since leaving Moscow. But then again, what was money for it not to spoil one's self. He had no doubts that all these harlots were after his money. How old was Lucy anyway? Early twenties? Hadn't she mentioned it once? He couldn't remember. He needed a break.\n\n\"I'm fine, Lucy,\" he grumbled. \"Fetch me my cane.\"\n\nShe did so, eagerly, and Chekhov made his slow passage toward the backyard. He couldn't agree to stay. Lucy was getting a bit too frisky lately, taking an immensely long time to finish his sponge baths while also seeming to forget that her blouse was too small for the bosom she carried. By God, how could his own daughter have such insufferable tastes? It was probably because she'd been born in America. He never should have moved here.\n\nChekhov exited the home and walked around his gate towards his grand garden and pool. Rosalia was waiting for, perched high on a ladder in a short skirt with one leg lifted up. She was pretending not to notice him, so he returned the favor and stared out toward his pool.\n\nAnd there he saw the one mistake his daughter had not made: the pool boy, Baahir. Dressed in only those tight shorts, his defined muscles stretched and tightened as he dragged the pool rake up and down through the water. Baahir politely smiled at Chekhov and waved, lowering his dark sunglasses to show off his dazzling eyes.\n\n\"Morning, sir!\" Baahir said cheerfully.\n\nChekhov smiled at Baahir's well-tanned skin and gave the young man a nod in return." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: An alien ship has entered the solar system and made contact with Earth! The initial excitement fades quickly as they introduce themselves as galactic police and tell us to stop broadcasting random messages into space, since our interstellar neighbours keep on filing noise complaints." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Beads of sweat were running profusely down the back of the president's neck. I was fanning him as he had buckled in the wake of the message we had just received.\n\nAliens. Real life, space faring, green skinned, aliens. I could hardly believe it myself, but as the president's aide, I am his personal support. Coffee, snacks, notes, reminders, tissues. Not many know it, but there is a thin layer between President Michaels pissing off a royal delegate from the east. And it's Charlie. Quick reminders before a handshake to ensure he bows. Updated on inside jokes from a last greeting. Sure it's boring and sometimes even demeaning work. My friends on the hill always laugh and snicker, but they will never be around moments like this.\n\nFirst contact was a meeting brief we had after he was sworn in. But they made it so casual! \"Here's the middle east situation, update on South American turmoil, the economy is sliding, oh and here are procedures for first encounters\". At a glance, it seemed as non-sensical as the briefing on \"Re-animated Corpse Military procedures\".\n\nThis was very real. and very in our face. The message had echoed through the minds of everyone present, and Leo, chief of staff, had confirmation from agents across the globe that the phenomenon was not localized to the white house, or even the US. This was the entire planet. 7 billion souls had just heard from a species beyond Earth.\n\nThe moments felt like an eternity. At first it was mumbled noises, foreign to any language we could recognize. Then it shifted, almost like someone shifting a radio dial. Eventually it started to repeat in languages more local to our own planet. At first I did not recognize many, but a few summers abroad in secondary school and university tuned me into the more popular ones. French. Then Spanish. Dutch. Maybe Swedish? Then English. Over and over again.\n\n\"You are in violation of Galaxy Code: 415812. Further transgression will result in a tribunal review and may be subject to galactic parole or termination\" That's where President Bartlet had fainted.\n\nThose were the words. Transgression. Violation. Termination. Those were words that implied aggression. Our translation team was working on the other languages heard, but Josh had been rushing in and out of the oval office with updates showing similar words. Direct translations weren't exactly the same, but they all had the same tone. Not friendly.\n\nNow was not the time to marvel at being present for the single most important moment in the human race. I had grabbed another glass of cool water for the president. The oval office had started to fill with many of the most powerful figures in the American Government. Vice President. Secretary of Defense. Secratary of State. They all had the same burning question I did. \"What do we do Mr. President?\"\n\nPresident Bartlet gathered himself. His speeches were legendary and I hung onto every word:\n\n\" A few moments ago, every human on this planet experienced a defining moment in all of history. Undeniable proof that we are not alone in this universe. I guess those some of those wackos at Nasa were on to something...\"\n\nThe room chuckled. He was a master at cutting tension. He drew another breath and continued..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: The street light outside your home has been flickering for months now, after idly looking at it through your window you realise something, its sending a message in morse code." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Minutes of not doing anything can quickly turn into months and though I knew it I didn't care--emotional gravity cemented me to the bed in suffocating gropings. Three months ago the cat escaped through the window, taking the curtains in its fevered flight. I probably forgot to feed it--what was its name? The cat food was at least nutritious if not delicious after a few weeks of drinking my meals. Filling carbs and drowning merciful intoxicant: preserved by the alcohol in me--a scientific certainty. There had to be something unnatural keeping me on this side of choking on chalky black vomit.\n\nThe window had been open for 3 days when I stopped counting and that was at least a month ago. I only remember it was a month ago because that's when I decided to open the window to see whether the flickering light outside was a police officer coming to check on me after a 3 hour chat on the suicide hotline. It wasn't. No one needed to check on me anyway. When I died and putresced, the smell would reach the neighbors in maybe a week, providing it was the heat of summer and not the ice of winter. On winter's ice, the EMTs would have to wait for the thaw to be called, though it's probably easier to move a frozen body than a hot body. Maybe I'd be generous and kill myself during a blizzard.\n\nBut yes, the flickering light was not the police. The light was just a light. My light. The lightpost that I used to turn on when I got home from work and off when I went to bed. The light lit up my garden which as far as I could tell was a garden ever since the house was built in the early 1900s. 1903 I think the deed said. The garden fence was a motley mess of rotting wood and hastily replaced boards--as much mosaic as a fence. This board was added when a storm blew through, this board came after field mice set up shop, and this board had to have been circa 1945 as it was clearly made out of an old army trunk. Maybe Korea. Probably not Vietnam.\n\nMy days shifted from waiting to die to waiting for the light to die. Two days in, I tried the switch, but the light kept on blinking at me, like a cornered fieldmouse in the oppressive beam of a roving flashlight, banking on stillness as a defense.\n\nThe lightswitch was my last ditch effort. I wasn't going outside.\n\nI sat down in my fortress, my bed surrounded by tins of wet cat food and cases of mercifully delivered beer (the only thing, my neighbor was convinced, that was keeping me alive), a narrow path in the empty cans and tins carved out so that I could reach the sink and the bucket--the toilet was backed up and by now the sewage had congealed into a spongy hockey puck. At least the smell was gone or maybe it was my nostrils.\n\nBut so I sat.\n\nAnd watched the light. And felt the breeze. And did nothing.\n\nThis morning, unconscious in my hangover but wide awake--a purgatory of headache and nausea--the blinking light rang out counts in my head. One short. One long. Blink. Blink Blink. Almost a pattern. No, a pattern. Morse code. Clearly Morse code. I was hallucinating, of that I am sure.\n\nWell, delirium tremens, two can play at that game. What do you want me to hear? \"I.. N... E. E. D... Y. O. U... I...\" I need you? You need me, light post apparition? Well, then I must say to you: \"Y.. O. U. C...A..N...H..A.V.E...M.E...\"\n\nThe light stopped. All-seeing God, thank you for this blessing you have bestowed upon me, the promise of uninterrupted sleep and... The light started again. \"C..O.M.E. T.O. M...E...A.N.D...K.N..O..W.\" The light stopped again.\n\nCome to me and know. I blinked back, but no response. Just black. Judging by the sky, it was around 8am. I tried the lightswitch. Nothing. I moved towards the window and a sharp gust of air hit me in the face, air rank with rot and moisture, the kind of air you find around a poisoned pond.\n\nI shut the window and turned back to bed. A loud bang. An open window.\n\nCome to me and know.\n\nI needed to know. For the first time in weeks, I put on shoes and walked for the door like the condemned to the gallows." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: There’s an old wives tale that says Death is always just out of sight, until the last hour of your life. You always scoffed at the idea, until you swear you saw something in the corner of your eye." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I glance across the table to an empty chair, the candle light dim, but enough to illuminate her picture on the wall behind to the edge of perception. It used to be that she sat in that chair, and we had dinner together like this. Then she took sick, and I couldn't save her. It wasn't the plague, or I would have probably joined her, but still, she left this world, and took the better part of my soul with her.\n\nI mull over the times we had, the efforts I'd made, the journey I took to try and find the antibiotics, the great wonder-drugs of the time before. I was able to get her them, but not in time. This is my memorial of her. Sometimes I almost see her, sitting in the chair across from me, wearing that same kindly face that she always greeted me with.\n\n\"I think that fish is done,\" I say, as I get up. I start turning around, and for a brief instant, I think I see the edge of a dark hood where she used to be. I immediately freeze.\n\n\"Ninety seven years,\" I think to myself, \"I'm old now. Would be funny if she turned out to be right once again.\" I turn around, and sure enough, she was. I'd always dismissed the idea, especially in the times before. Before technology ran amok, before the greed of a tiny few, and the indifference of a greater minority, destroyed the world's environment and brought about what most would call the apocalypse.\n\nI put a lot more stock in them now. I complete my turn, and before me is a hooded figure. An unnatural blackness shrouds whoever is under it. Where the eyes are, however, I see two twinkling lights, like stars in a pitch black sky. I nod, and go to my cupboard. I open it, and set another place at the table, along with today's catch from the river. I also grab, from a shelf nearby, what is probably one of the last bottles of scotch on the whole planet.\n\n\"Not going to run?\" it asks.\n\n\"Where would I go? My children have long moved away from here, to a place that most would probably mistake for heaven. You helped the woman who came with me here onto the next phase of her journey some twenty something years ago. I figured, if I have an hour, maybe we could enjoy each other's company. Besides, it's been a very long time since I've had any visitors.\"\n\nThe hooded figure pauses for a moment, and takes off its cloak. The blackness holds for a moment, before fading into what looks like a perfect copy of my long departed wife. She looks at me for a moment, ready to join in my meal, and speaks. The voice isn't hers, which isn't entirely a surprise. \"I often take the form of the ones my travelers would most like to see. I can see you've long since come to accept that I'd come for you one day. If you'd rather, I'll show you my true form.\"\n\nI nod. \"I've waited over twenty years to see her again, I can wait an hour more.\" I've always valued the truth, and again, the entity across from me returns to its black, smoke like appearance. It takes the fork and knife, and begins to eat, as do I.\n\nAs we finish, I glance to the clock on the wall. We still have a few minutes. \"How was it?\" I ask. The figure looks at me, and its empty plate.\n\n\"It was quite good, thank you. I presume you were talking about your life though, not the food?\"\n\n\"Oddly enough, I was more concerned about the food, but if you have thoughts on it, perhaps we can discuss it on the way?\" I reply. With that, the clock strikes to the last minute. I now feel a sharp pain in my chest. I grimace in pain as my strength leaves me. Struggling to maintain composure and verticality, I stumble to my table, and somehow get to my chair. I make it, and then the pain is gone. The world fades away, and we are now both in a large, snowy forest.\n\n\"That was it then?\" I ask.\n\n\"Yes,\" it replies. \"Shall we go then?\" It points its arm down a path.\n\n\"Sure,\" I reply, as I rise to my feet. It starts to walk forward, and I begin to follow." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: In this world populated by elves, dwarves, orcs and dragons, humans are considered a fictional fantasy race. The myths and tropes about them vary between stories, some more outlandish than others." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“What was this game called again ?” Olin grumbled. Leyara had practically begged him to come and play the game with him. He didn’t see any board in sight. He wasn’t sure where the game was.\n\n“You dwarves and your terrible memories”, Leyara sighed. “It’s called Humans and Houses. It’s a wonderful game.”\n\n“Where’s the board ?” Olin asked, gesturing to the table with nothing on it.\n\n“The game happens in your mind. You don’t need a board.” Leyara practically leapt in joy as she said that.\n\nOlin was far from convinced. Leyara, like most fairies, always seemed to have too much energy about her. Perhaps it had something to do with the fairy dust they produced ? His hands twitched, itching for a pickaxe to mine in the deep depths of some cool cave.\n\n“What are humans again ? I’ve heard about them but I don’t know much about them.”, Olin eyed Leyara, pretending to be interested.\n\n“Well in this game, there aren’t just humans - you can be an elephant, or a whale, or a monkey, or a bunch of other fantasy creatures. “\n\n“Elephants and monkeys ?” Olin thought. He had never heard of these strange mythical creatures. But if he asked her about that, they’d be here all day. “Just tell me what humans are please” , he said, trying to bring her back on topic.\n\n“Well humans are just elves with a shorter lifespan and they don’t have magic. “\n\n“Just a worse version of an elf. Got it. Why would anyone play as that character ?”\n\n“No, no you got that wrong. I have played as a human before in an H&H game..”\n\n“H&H ?”\n\n“That’s the short form for Humans and Houses. Please keep up. Anyways, as I was saying, I played as this beautiful woman character called Marilyn Monroe. I was an assassin who seduced people and killed them. I believe Monroe is one of the greatest assassins of the world.”\n\n“So, it’s a race where people seduce others. Got it. This does not sound like my type of axe…”\n\n“No, no , no. You got that wrong. I should’ve told you the most important thing about them. Since they don’t have magic, they rely entirely on their intelligence to survive. They have really big heads, well bigger than an elf anyways… “\n\n“There we go”, thought Olin. Once Leyara started talking, she just would not shut up.Out loud he said, “Well, they seem to have the most wonderful mythology. Can you tell me some of the history behind these people ? Who was the most famous human in this mythos?” He couldn’t help but try to trip her up. No one would bother to make up such intricate details about this race.\n\nLeyara’s eyes lit up. “Well, there’s this book that I have around here that talks about the most famous humans in history.” Leyara squealed, before dashing to her shelf filled with books and looking for the book.\n\n“Someone was crazy enough to write about fictional creatures in a book? Let me guess, was it a high elf ?”\n\n“A forest elf actually if you must know. Here it is - let’s see. Ah yes, it’d have to be Jesus Christ. One of the few humans who actually did have magic. Of course, you can’t play as him, he’s just too overpowered. What else do you want to know ? This book has everything in it.”\n\n“I just want to get started. I can be any race I want right ?”\n\n“Yes. Any race at all.”\n\n“I think I’ll just play as a dwarf if you don’t mind. “" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You and your love have been cursed to roam the earth never finding each other so long as you are searching. You've stopped searching." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Walking listlessly through the woods I could hear the stream trickling in the distance. Or was it simply in my head? I hadn’t had a drop of water since yesterday and it’s entirely plausible I was rapidly growing delirious.\n\nThe world doesn’t give you what you want; it waits until it knows what you need. Such a pithy aphorism essentially meaningless in its being. Yet for some reason it proves to be resoundingly true. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve accepted my own imminent demise only to have a wounded boar limp in front of me, or a clear crystal stream wind its way to my feet.\n\nIt’s cruel by nature and paradoxical by design. You can be immortal, only when you fully and completely accept your mortality. I have seen people wait by stagnant ponds just waiting, knowing that clean water will be provided when their thirst hits a certain point. But it never comes. I cry out in pain and anger, and the answer simply is silence. The key is convincing yourself it’s conditional. Maybe the miracles have limits. Yes, I tell myself, I have been afforded 142 miracles, and now I am on my own. Eventually when the hunger, thirst or pain hits a certain extent, you start believing it’s true. And all you need is that moment of doubt; that moment of sincere atheistic fury, and you are saved.\n\nIs it a cruel joke or a test or simply just the nature of reality? I’ve simply stopped caring. It’s really not worth it anymore.\n\nIt had been such a long time since I cared deeply about anything that I almost missed seeing her drinking from the stream in front of me. When loneliness becomes such an inevitability, it’s easy to forget how powerful a force it can be.\n\nI approached her slowly, crimson hair blowing in the wind against porcelain white skin. She must be a Siren, I thought to myself. I knelt down and began drinking the water a few yards away from her but she made no notion towards me. Thirst quenched I headed back to the woods to set up camp. The sky began to darken and I made a fire. The idea of having food today seemed an absurd idea. I was no longer dying of thirst; of course I would be hungry.\n\nBut then there she was, approaching me, rabbit in hand. She asked me if I could cook it for her. I agreed and she offered to split it with me. We didn’t speak for a while, but I wouldn’t have had anything to say anyways. Every once and a while we’d catch glimpses and I’d be momentarily reminded of something long forgotten. For the first time in as long as I could remember nothing else seemed to matter. I felt safe, comfortable, in a way that leaves you ultimately vulnerable. And it hurts, and it’s supremely disconcerting, but it’s all you want to feel.\n\nI woke up the next morning and she was gone, the rabbit was gone, even the embers of the long lost fire were gone. I’d like to believe she just got up and left. I want to think that she’s still out there, trying to make due just as I am. I desperately want to stand up and pick a direction and know that there is a chance that if I move fast enough I’ll catch up to her. That’s not true though.\n\nI had given up on the concept of love, and so had she, and we were perfect and that’s why I saw her. We were both in the place we needed to be. And then she had to go, because we both realized what we were missing; what we desperately wanted. And it was gone. And it was by design." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You've always been afraid of the dark, but for a different reason than anyone else. You breathe in light and exhale darkness. A completely dark room is like drowning." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I've always taken the steps to make sure I have light. As a child, there were nightlights. As a teenager, I kept the tv on, sound off, and the closet light on. I'd had a few instances of the night light going out as a kid and i knew i needed a \"backup\" just in case. I was mildly insulted by even my parents, for my \"fear of the dark,\" so I never outright slept with the lights on.\n\nI live alone now, and keep every light in the house on at night. I have an entire closet devoted to lightbulbs, so I can replace them as I need to. I also work a night job so that I can minimize the chances of being vulnerable at night, without light. And, I even keep battery operated and solar lights, water activated lights, in case of power failure.\n\nIt's not that I'm afraid of the dark. I mean, okay, yeah, I'm terrified of it, but not for the reasons most people are. See, in the darkness I have trouble breathing. The darker it is the more suffocated I feel. Sounds crazy, I know, but I've tried a few times over the years to get over it. Once I even passed out in the bathroom, and only woke up when my mom turned on the light after hearing me fall and hit my head.\n\nIt's like I'm drowning, but without water. I gasped for air but all I feel is suffocation. Thick, inky blackness penetrates my lungs and my vision every time I am left without light. In low light I feel heavy, like someone is sitting on my chest. In bright light I feel airy and energized.\n\nI left work early tonight, an incident unrelated to my job left the building closed down for maintenance and so I drove home (dome light on) in the dead of night, at only midnight. There would be at least 7hours before full daylight.\n\nDespite my precautions, ones I took daily, I felt nervous and anxious about going home for the night. I tried to shake it, it's not like I dont spend 3 nights a week in my apartment. I guess my routine being off made me more anxious than normal.\n\nWhen I arrived home, I noticed that my living room light was off, through the window. I frowned, before walking to my door. The door was still locked (and was the only way in or out besides windows) when I entered, but the whole apartment was dark. The light in the breezeway was just enough to keep me from feeling dizzy.\n\nI quickly lit my cell phone flashlight and peeked about my house. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary except the darkness. I reached for and flicked a light switch. Nothing. I noticed my microwave light, over the stove, was switched on, but was not lit. When I approached, I could see the lightbulb sitting on the stovetop, in pieces.\n\nI glanced around again, noticing my other lamps also had lightbulbs near them, and broken. Upon closer inspection, there were none still in the lamps. The light in the breezeway wasn't much and was casting just enough light to keep me feeling anchored, but the further I walked into my apartment, the more I relied on keeping my phone close to my face, so the light felt brighter.\n\nI pressed my emergency \"tap lights\" as I walked through the hallway. Nothing. I grabbed one and checked, no batteries. I realized they were laying on the ground, below their respective lights.\n\nRealizing that this couldn't be a coincidence made my hackles rise, and I approached my own bedroom with caution. The breezeway light barely reached down the hall, and suddenly, it went out. For a split second, I questioned my sanity, someone knew my pain, my struggle, and had maliciously made my life dark, clearly on purpose.\n\nI reached for the door, despite my shaking hands, and inhaled sharply and as deeply as I could, as I watched my cell phone light flicker and fade. The room before me was completely black, and I held that breath as long as I could, before needing to exhale. As I did, the darkness enveloped me, and I could no longer see anything. I attempted to inhale, but all I could taste was darkness." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: You're a scavenger of relics from before the apocalypse. Finding yourself in a buried building, you begin to explore. You notice a well protected box, and decide to retrieve it's contents, only to find it's a lousy piece of paper with the words, \"We the people\" across the top." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dusting off the old paper with disappointment, being as careful as humanly possibly so as not to rip this document. I wonderd to myself why I was even down here. \"This thing is probably going to crumble to dust, we're just wasting precious time Himari.\" I quietly said, turning my head towards my Recon Secondary, as well as my best friend.\n\n\"Always the pessimist, we're never going to find a home with that attitude Wolfie. What does it say?\" Himari quipped, using that stupid nickname she gave me when we were children.\n\n\"Let's see here....\" I cleared my throat before reading the text on the worn out paper, now turned a mild dark yellow by time.\n\n\"We the people as one entity for the benefit of all the powers of old Europe have entered into a holy alliance to exorcise this spectre: Pope and Tsar, Metternich and Guizot, French Radicals and German police-spies.\n\nWhere is the party in opposition that has not been decried as communistic by its opponents in power? Where is the opposition that has not hurled back the branding reproach of communism, against the more advanced opposition parties, as well as against its reactionary adversaries?\n\nTwo things result from this fact:\n\nI. Communism is already acknowledged by all European powers to be itself a power.\n\nII. It is high time that Communists should openly, in the face of the whole world, publish their views, their aims, their tendencies, and meet this nursery tale of the Spectre of Communism with a manifesto of the party itself.\" Questioning what the hell I was reading, turning again to see Himari with the same confused face.\n\nI continued to read on; \"The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles.\n\nFreeman and slave, patrician and plebeian, lord and serf, guild-master and journeyman, in a word, oppressor and oppressed, stood in constant opposition to one another, carried on an uninterrupted, now hidden, now open fight, a fight that each time ended, either in a revolutionary reconstitution of society at large, or in the common ruin of the contending classes.\n\nIn the earlier epochs of history, we find almost everywhere a complicated arrangement of society into various orders, a manifold gradation of social rank. In ancient Rome we have patricians, knights, plebeians, slaves; in the Middle Ages, feudal lords, vassals, guild-masters, journeymen, apprentices, serfs; in almost all of these classes, again, subordinate gradations.\n\nThe modern bourgeois society that has sprouted from the ruins of feudal society has not done away with class antagonisms. It has but established new classes, new conditions of oppression, new forms of struggle in place of the old ones.\n\nOur epoch, the epoch of the bourgeoisie, possesses, however, this distinct feature: it has simplified class antagonisms. Society as a whole is more and more splitting up into two great hostile camps, into two great classes directly facing each other — Bourgeoisie and Proletariat.\n\nFrom the serfs of the Middle Ages sprang the chartered burghers of the earliest towns. From these burgesses the first elements of the bourgeoisie were developed.\" I spoke prouder and prouder with an odd sense of pride.\n\nKnowing I had stumbled upon something special I carefully placed the paper in a protective case. \"Himari, let's get out of here. This could be the answer to all of our problems. We need to get this to Doctor Mikhail for analysis.\" I said with a smile and a wink.\n\n\"I am so happy for you Wolfgang, so happy for all of us. OUR PEOPLE WILL BE SAFE!\" Cheered Kamari as she and and Wolfgang tugged on their latches, indicating they were ready to be evacuated." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: Aliens only arrived because humans made too much radio noise that even the Oort Cloud, the aliens' way to muffle radio noise, doesn't work as much as it used to be." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When people were asked about what they thought first contact would be, most pictured something out of a Hollywood movie. Big ships, lots of explosions. Maybe an abduction or two, just to be on the safe side. Nobody would have said it would be a single ship slightly larger than the average minivan.\n\nBut, that's what it was, and all the required people had gone out to meet it when it landed in the White House's back yard. The president, one of his generals, and several other members of the government had turned out to see this historic event. Thankfully, they had been able to keep the press out by keeping knowledge of the UFO from getting into the public's hands.\n\nThe ship came to a stop in the middle of the gathering. It might have been small, but it was definitely an alien vessel. It was bulbous, shaped almost like a pear that had gotten cancer all over. Two lights on the top of it flashed like beacons, even in the midday sun. It came to a rest and a part of it slid open.\n\nEveryone there held thier breath as a figure emerged. It was roughly the size of a human, and bipedal, but there was nobody who would question whether it was really an alien or not. It had three eyes, a vertically aligned mouth, and a horizontal slit where a nose would be. It's arms were far longer than they should have been, and had seven fingers on each hand. And, if course, its skin was green, and covered with dark splotches.\n\nThe alien wore a loose outfit in a dark color. Its belt held various devices, only one of which could only begin to be identified by the human onlookers. And that was only because of its similarity to a gun. The soldiers all stood at the ready, prepared to open fire at the first signs of aggression.\n\nThe alien looked around, took a deep breath, and headed for the president.\n\n\"You in charge around here?\" It asked in perfect English.\n\n\"Uh, yes?\" The president asked, more than stated.\n\n\"Good, good. Do you know why I've come?\"\n\n\"Can't say I do.\" He hoped it was not as a scout for an invasion force.\n\n\"I see. Well, listen, it's like this: we've gotten a lot of noise complaints about this planet. Even a few star systems away have been complaining. Now, listen, I get it, I really do. You young species love to blast your music and radio broadcasts at all hours of the solar day. Like to party, right? Have a good time and all that. I understand that. But I still have to ask you to turn it down a bit, okay? I'm not saying to stop what you're doing or anything, just keep the interstellar noise level down to a minimum, okay?\"\n\n\"Uh, okay?\"\n\n\"Good, good. Now, I'll let you go with that little warning, okay? But that's only this time. If I have to come back, I'm going to have to write up a ticket or two, and nobody wants that, do they?\"\n\n\"No?\"\n\n\"Alright then, so long as you understand. Have a nice solar day, sir.\"\n\n\"You, uh, you too...officer?\"\n\nThe alien nodded its head and headed back to its ship. The vessel rose almost soundlessly into the air and was gone from view within moments. The gathered humans all just stood there and watched where it had been. The president was the first to speak.\n\n\"General?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir?\"\n\n\"Did we just get treated like an interstellar frat party?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir, I do believe we did.\"\n\nThe president mulled the thought over for a moment before he said what everyone was thinking.\n\n\"Huh.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: The Devil Wears Prada... And (s)he wants a refund." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was taller than you'd think. Six foot something. I don't know, I was always too distracted by her voice to make an accurate call.\n\n\"Is this how you handle things here on 'Earth?' \" I don't know what the air quotes were for, but she used them. I didn't catch everything she said after that, I was too busy wondering why she sounded like someone straight out of Boston. When I came back from my thoughts, I heard: \"This is ridiculous.\" She was holding up the red suede high heels she had purchased a few months earlier. Only thing was the heel wasn't there anymore, it snapped off sometime between now and three months ago.\n\n\"I want a full refund on this,\" she said.\n\n\"I'm sorry, ma'am, that's against our policy. You have ninety days to return an item. It's been ninety one.\" I'd spoken to her about this so many times, I just about had no emotion left in my voice to spare.\n\nHer cheeks were as red as the heels. \"I want to see he manager right now.\"\n\nI couldn't hold back the sigh. \"I am the manager, ma'am.\"\n\n\"Well I want to see another manager. Where's Charles?\"\n\nFine, I don't want to deal with this anyway.\n\nI found Charles by the Men's Jeans, told him the devil-lady was back and wanted to speak with him. He told me to refrain from referring to any customers as devil-anything, even if they were literally the Devil.\n\n\"I bet you don't treat that motherfucker with all his pretty little angels like this. Ninety day policy bullshit.\"\n\n\"Ma'am, if you're going to continue to use that language, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.\" Charles was always professional.\n\n\"Oh, please, Charles.\" She snapped her fingers and the white tiled floor of the store fell into dark, lava filled pits. The screams of the damned wailed from the depths below. Charred skeletons, some of them only half complete, tried clawing their way to the surface. The other customers in the store fell to their knees on a seemingly invisible floor, they cried and weeped and wailed too.\n\nCharles and I had seen this about a hundred times at this point. \"Please, stop,\" Charles said, mildly annoyed.\n\nShe stomped one foot and the floor returned, the cries and screams ceased. The customers in the store stopped too, they all looked at each other, most of them giving each other confused looks, wondering how they'd gotten on their knees. They all stood up and went back to their shopping, trying to ignore what had just occurred.\n\n\"I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's nothing we can do.\"\n\nThe lady grabbed Charles by the tie, smoke rising from her hand. \"Listen here, Charles. I know you've been treating me unfairly these last few years of me coming in as a customer-\"\n\n\"I haven't, but go ahead.\"\n\n\"-but let me remind you that stealing is a sin and you know where sins get you?\"\n\nCharles had been working in department stores since he was sixteen, now the Devil herself couldn't crack him. \"Please, enlighten me.\"\n\n\"They'll land you right smack dab in my home. And in there you play by my rules, keep this little act of yours up and I'll have you working in a department store for eternity,\" she smiled.\n\nI think this one time got to him, though. Charles couldn't stand the idea of an eternity of customer service. \"I really hope your joking with that one,\" he said.\n\n\"Hmm, I don't know, maybe I am, maybe I'm not. Who's to say?\" she giggled and let go of his tie, the place where she'd grasped was charred. \"I'll be back here in a week, you better have me another pair of those heels when I get here.\"\n\nThe heels she wore kicked up sparks as she walked towards the exit. \"See you in hell, Charles.\" She smirked, winked, then vanished.\n\nCharles sighed and looked at his ruined tie.\n\n\"I'll get you another one,\" I said.\n\n\"Make it a black one, that way I won't have to replace it next time she comes around.\"\n\nA week later, Charles and I had been discussing her imminent visit when she showed up at the front desk. It was so strange how she always seemed to show up when we'd talk about her." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A world class detective who has solved every case ever given to them has a secret: they're actually an all seeing god in disguise slowly making the world a safer place. However, they must go through every step of solving a case as to not reveal their identity. One day, however, they slip up." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "(Never done something like this before. Just typed this up quickly, and any advice anyone could give me would be greatly appreciated.)\n\n“How did you know they were hidden at the theatre?” the commissioner asked me.\n\n“Intuition,” I replied, hoping to get this whole thing over with, “I would think by now you would trust me enough to do my job without getting in my way.”\n\n“Listen Stephen. I’m on your side. You know that I always have been. I just need any bit of information that I can use to prove that you aren’t connected to their ring. Help me prove your innocence.”\n\n“Fine,” I said standing and turning away from the table that divided us, “If you must know one of their men had a wrapper with a label from the theatre on it. I made a guess, and I was right, as usual. While there is no way to prove this, I trust this explanation is all you need, and I can get back to my work.”\n\nWith that I turned to my left and exited the interrogation room, hoping, or rather knowing, that he would believe my excuse. The ungrateful man would have to find something else to entertain himself for a little while. I take pity on these mortals and this is how they choose to repay me? Scepticism and scrutiny are no way to approach a god.\n\nLater that night I sat at my desk looking over my work on the other three cases that I was working on. I decided to put far more effort into these than I had the last one. Not because I felt that they were owed it, of course, just out of fear that they would make my life unnecessarily difficult if I didn’t. At that moment the door behind me burst open and I could see in my mind’s eye the commissioner, as well as five other well-armed officers.\n\n“If you’re here to discuss my new cases I think you’re a tad overdressed,” I joked, hoping to diffuse the situation.\n\nThe commissioner, a grave look on his face, responded, “I’m sorry we have to do this. We know you lied today. We can only assume you’ve been working with the criminals, trying to hide their real intentions. Please, do us all a favour and come quietly. You can try to prove your innocence later.”\n\nHaving given up on trying to help these ungrateful cockroaches, I uttered a simple “No,” before noticing the rather scared looking officer on the far-left side. In my mind I saw, just a few seconds in the future, him losing control and firing at me. Enraged, and having decided to give up on all pretenses of being human, I imagined his head imploding, to see the scene play out before me seconds later.\n\nThe other me turned from me to watch their friend fall to the ground. Immediately, I felt four distinct strings of bullets fire into my abdomen. Of course, they didn’t hurt, per se, but there was an initial piercing sensation, and for the several seconds it lasted I felt the momentum drive me back until I had fallen backwards over my desk. The insolence of these men! After all I have done for them this is how they repay me.\n\nI keep their image in my mind and find new ways to force each of the remaining men to watch their partner die, until only the commissioner is left standing. He stood, clearly shocked over what he had been forced to witness. But he seemed to refuse to acknowledge the bodies strewn across the floor at his feet, and instead pointed that look that he clearly intended for them at me. After a few seconds passed, he said simply, “You aren’t who I thought you were.”\n\nAfter I crushed his heart from inside of him, I said simply, “I agree,” as I felt an unfamiliar twinge of something reminiscent of sadness manifesting in the corner of my mind." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: The year is 2216. Earth's ozone layer has depleted to such an extent that humans have been forced to live nocturnally to avoid radiation poisoning. Cities are scorched wastelands under sunlight, and thriving ecosystems under the cover of darkness." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kayla stayed motionless as she watched the Sunwalkers pass he by. She lay prone under the McDonalds billboard, waiting. The Sunwalkers had suits that let them out in the day, and Kayla's group needed them.\n\nHumanity was not suited for the night.\n\nKayla watched as the last inch of sunlight turned into shade. She crawled out of her spot, making as much noise as she wanted. The Sunwalkers never carried guns, they only had boxes, probably food they found in torn cities.\n\nShe stood up as the two men in suits turned to face her. \"Now!\"\n\nRick stepped out from behind his spot, a stack of tires. They provided no shade, but the sun had set there a while ago. John came out from behind a door to what was once a bathroom. Amy stood up from the pit she dug.\n\nAll pointed their guns at the two men.\n\n\"Suits off.\" Kayla said. She had her six shot aimed at the larger one's chest.\n\nThe men exchanged looks before they started stripping off the suits. \"Please, don't shoot.\"\n\nKayla nodded at Rick. Rick lowered his gun and walked up to the two, heading for the boxes. He picked one up and opened it, dumping the contents out. It was full of needles and pill bottles.\n\n\"What's this?\" He asked the smaller man.\n\n\"It's medicine,\" the man replied as he stripped off the last scrap of the suit. \"We're with the CDC, I know not many people are left, but there's a big settlement down south of here and they have a disease going around, it-\"\n\n\"Take the medicine,\" Kayla said, gun still aimed at the larger man's chest.\n\n\"Please,\" the small one said, \"the people south of here need it bad or they die. You can take out suits, but let us give the medicine to them.\"\n\nKayla switched her aim from the larger man, still taking off his suit, to the smaller man. She shot him twice in the chest.\n\nShe turned back to the larger man and stepped forward, six shot aimed at his chest. \"Take it off. Now.\"\n\n\"Hold on,\" he held up his hands. All he had on were his boxer shorts and one shoe from the suit. \"We can work this out.\"\n\nKayla shot him once. He fell to the ground. Rick stepped forward and grabbed the shoe, pulling it off roughly. Kayla stood above the man and pointed the gun to his head.\n\n\"Why?\" He sputtered blood as he spoke. \"We gave... gave you what you want...\"\n\n\"Humanity is not suited for the night.\" Kayla shot his in the head. \"Amy, you hold one of the suits, John, you take the other. Rick, you grab the boxes.\n\nKayla loaded four bullets into her gun, back to its full capacity, and turned. If she hadn't shot them, they would simply die when the sun came up, she did them a mercy.\n\n\"Yeah, keep telling yourself that.\" Kayla mumbled to herself.\n\n\"What's that?\" Rick asked.\n\n\"Nothing.\" Kayla began walking to camp. \"Get moving.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: \"If you remember nothing else, my young apprentice, remember this--of all the planets you visit, and of all the species you may encounter, never EVER reanimate one called a 'human'. They are difficult to control, and even harder to kill... and that's just when their alive.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“I ended them, but at a terrible cost. They are the masters of destruction, and sow not just their own demise, but the demise of all my creatures.”\n\nShortly after, the god himself passed. His warning passed, and no longer present to ensure his will be done.\n\n—-\n\nThe warning, of course, fell of deaf ears. Thirty-seven thousand years ago, forty breeding pairs were cloned and left to fend for themselves on a rocky world, third from their new sun.\n\nThe world was more than two hundred light years from the nearest colonized world. A safety precaution designed to ensure that humanity could never become a problem. For millennia there wasn’t much to speak of. It was joked about in research circles that the dying god had simply played a joke upon them all.\n\nThen, almost as an explosion, they began to accelerate. Polluting their planet damn near to the brink they experienced an industrial explosion. War after war would rage across the planet. Then, suddenly, the definitive signature of nuclear weapon detonations. And not just one. Again and again the detonations were detected. It seemed improbably that anyone remained alive on the world and yet the detonations continued.\n\nThey went from swords to nuclear weapons in a little over two thousand years. Perhaps... just maybe... the god had not lied. An observation craft, the Oumuamua was sent to get some closer readings. Upon arriving it was seen that humanity was quickly infecting another world in the system; and several of their probes had even left the solar system. Upon the discovery, the probe was order to return and left the system quickly. Once out of visual range it opened a slip stream and returned to civilized space.\n\nBased on these disturbing observations, it was decided that a sanitation deployment be readied and sent to cleanse the planet. Every specimen would be destroyed. They would pose no risk to the Federation.\n\nBased on technological progression, it was decided that no more than thirty years could be taken to prepare the fleet. Volunteers from over seven thousand species formed a legion two billion strong. Fear of the human plague has spread, and some smugglers with the courage to get close enough had begun to share transmissions from the human world.\n\nThirty years passed, and the fleet slipped into the stream. As they closed on Earth it was decided they would exit the stream above the planet, it no longer mattered whether they were seen.\n\n“Prepare the cannons.” The commander of the flagship commanded. His orders related throughout the fleet.\n\n“Yes Commander!”\n\n“Reverse slip polarity and bring us into real space on my mark.” The time counting down on his HUD to a successful emergence above the plagued world.\n\n“Yes Commander!”\n\n“Now!”\n\nThe armada exited slip space.\n\n“Oh my god...” the commanders voice trailed off.\n\nIn thirty years since Oumuamua had passed, everything had changed. The plague was now on several moons throughout the system, the star now contained in a Dyson Sphere, and there were hundreds of thousands of ships throughout the system.\n\n“Open fire on the planet!” The commander screamed in desperation, already sensing that his mission would fail.\n\nPlasma screamed out of thousands of ships and raced its way towards the planet. Thirty kilometres up they slammed against a nigh impenetrable barrier. Human vessels had begun scrambling on the planet, and they were receiving a transmission.\n\n“Unusual way to knock my friend, choose to answer me carefully. Who are you, and what do you want?”\n\nThe commander collapsed in his chair, and stared at the screen. Humanity had then outgunned.\n\n“Commander, our response?”\n\nA moment passed and then another transmission was received.\n\n“Very well. I shall introduce myself then before we begin. I am Carr. I am the intelligence that governs humanity and frees it to pursue its own desires. You have initiated aggression against my children, and as such I will now allow them to do as they will.”\n\nPlasma screamed up from the surface, tearing through the shields in micro-openings that closed in microseconds and obliterating ship after ship.\n\nCarr continued, “My children are brilliant when it comes to war. You should have come in peace.”\n\nA lone ship approached the flagship. With all fire power being directed at battleships surrounding them the commander eyed it. He felt.. it was important.\n\nSuddenly it exploded, but.. nothing hit it. Instead it became a cloud of grey... goo?\n\nIt floated as if on the wind in the direction of the capital ship, and within seconds of making contact the systems were lost.\n\nCarr finally finished, “Such an interesting journey, and wonderful experiment you’ve conducted! I’m ever so glad you brought my children back to me.”\n\nWith that the capital ship exploded, and the AI finally had the coordinates for the home of the monsters who first asked their god to take her children from her." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: Your character is a contestant in a deadly reality show, and the winner is the only one who gets to live. The families of the two closest runner-ups will receive 1 million dollars each, and the family of the person in last place will need to pay a hefty fine." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I've spent a year trying to get where my feet touch today. The crowd is cheering, excited to watch us die. The bi-annual Reality TV show Deathtrap will be airing today, well tomorrow, at midnight. It's 11:50 PM according to the large digital clock displayed on the monitor not too dissimilar from what you'd see at a baseball game. On either side of me are nine other contestants standing on small circular pillars that have a small set of felt covered stairs leading down to a platform where the host of the show stands. He's speaking into a microphone, introducing us to the crowd by name. Soon, we'll be known as numbers and dead men.\n\nI've seen the show a few times before, but only for an hour or so at a time. There are four stages, each testing us on different things: Physical strength, endurance, mental strength and cleverness under duress. I glance at the clock, 11:52. My jaw is quivering slightly, my fists are shaking. It feels like I have no strength to even close my hands all the way. Death is almost certain in this game. Between the platform and the stands is a sightless pit. Stadium lights flare from above the stands and at the lower level where they end. We all must be two hundred feet off the ground.\n\n\"Contestant number five hails from the fine city of Grand Rapids, Michigan where, as you all know, was almost lost in the Battle of the Great Lakes. His name: Kayle Eastman, give him your warmest welcome! Now Kayle, what brings you here today?\"\n\nI breath in deeply, \"My family.\" The host smiles and adjusts his large black rimmed glasses with the same hand he has his notes in, stealing a peak.\n\n\"Your family? You told me before the show that your daughter Saydia is sick, yes?\"\n\n\"Yes, she has aum...uh, Jane Thurman's Disease.\" I couldn't bare to look up. \"And we don't... have the funds to pay... so I'm here to win the prize money.\"\n\n\"You must love her very much, Kayle. We all wish you the best of luck today.\" The crowd cheered and I exhaled.\n\nAt thirty years old, I'm six feet and a hundred and seventy pounds and lucky to be even that heavy. They say her condition is curable, but she has to be under constant supervision in the hospital. Not only that, but she is being pumped with drugs and IV drips. The cost of it all is beyond what I can handle on my own. She and my eldest daughter, Kathleen are all that I have left for family. People called me foolish when they found out I was going to be \"throwing my life away for them instead of staying and working like any normal person\". I work for a geek squad and at a restaurant and have no other skills that I can use to work. Going back to college for another degree just isn't possible, not with Saydia's condition making a wasteland of my bank account.\n\nThe clock struck midnight and the music started playing, the theme song of Deathtrap. Heroic horns followed by sweeping strings with drums playing steadily under them. Clips of previous shows played, the strings playing a beautiful melody over a clip of a woman impaled by a spear that sent her falling to her death. The dynamics shifted to piano as a chorus sung a sustained chord. Drums and strings brought back the horn melody as the screen now showed us, the ten contestants of Deathtrap.\n\n\"Welcome, welcome, welcome!\" The host called. \"I am Gene Mitchell, host and announcer of the number one show on television, yours and my favorite reality TV, Deathtrap!!\" His voice dipped and climbed with pitch as he spoke. \"We have spent the past half an hour introducing you to the contestants, but in case you are joining us for the first time right now, let's introduce them to you again!\"\n\nHeroic violins played over a steady drum set as the video clips of us introducing ourselves played. Gene and a few other men hurried us off our podiums and got us into positions on the edge of the platform. Soon, we'd be finding out what our first challenge was.\n\n\"Hi, I'm Jason Rivers. I'm a college senior working on my bachelors in Biology...\" I tuned the noise out, trying to calm myself. Breath in and out through the mouth. Something like that. My lungs felt like they couldn't be filled. I was gulping for air, not ready. I wanted to run, I wanted to quit.\n\n\"Okay contestants, heeeeerreeee is your first challenge!\"\n\nA large mechanical arm from the sightless pit pulled a stage from underneath the seats of the wild crowd, who screamed as an orange colored section of earth was in place in front of our feet. Large silver-metal poles stuck out from the ground sporadically.\n\n\"Your first test is a timed Physical Endurance test!\" The crowd cheered. \"The catch, as always, is that there is something deadly about the earth you walk on. Land Mines! There are land mines spread throughout the arena. You must reach the other side in two minutes or less, marked by a red line in the clay, while also dodging the poles placed firmly in the ground. At the sound of the gun, you shall begin! Are we ready contestants? Are we ready viewers here and at home?\" the crowd cheered wildly, screaming with their hands placed in circles around their mouths.\n\nThere was a loud crack in the air. It caught me off guard and I started running seconds after the others took off ahead of me. My legs took me, there was no thought, I just pumped my arms and breathed like a horse. 4 was in my lane and a incredibly fast runner. I followed him and we weaved through the metal poles. Another loud crack filled the stadium, smoke followed off to my left.\n\n\"Ooooohh! There goes number 9, 9 is down!\" Another crack followed by smoke to my right. \"And number one is down! They are falling quickly and not even halfway to the other side! How will this stage end? Who will be left?\" Gene's voice rang in our ears, his high pitched voice filling the stadium.\n\nI was falling behind 4 as Gene called for the first minute to be over. An explosion nearly toppled me but I grasped a pole before I went to my knees. Before I was able to move, 4 fell on top of me, his legs gone.\n\n\"Woah! 4 is gone! And look, he fell on number 5! Get up 5! You need to get to the other side, you've only got thirty seconds left!\"\n\nI pushed him off of me, letting out a scream of terror. I jumped to my feet and grasped the pole again. I heard the crowd cheering together, \"Go Number 5, Go number 5!\" I looked at the clock. I had twenty seconds. I flew, sprinting. My legs kicked as hard as they could off the hard clay and my arms propelled me like the engines of an airplane. With three seconds to spare, I crossed the line, falling to my face, gasping for air.\n\n-More to come, I have things to do. I've got some serious tense issues that I'll address tomorrow or later-" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Today is the day. You've been planning your wedding for almost a year. And while yes, yesterday was the rapture. But you aren't going down without a fight! This will be the best wedding hell has ever seen!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The world was on fire. No like actually on fire; the trees were burning, houses were on fire, and sometimes actual people would spontaneously go up in flames. The last 24 hours had been a living nightmare. It was Hell on earth, literally.\n\nAfter the initial shock of what happened, Shelly and Michael took a few minutes to take in everything that was happening around them. Shelly spoke first, “What….what do we do? How are we going to survive this?”\n\n“Well, considering we’ve survived the initial ‘raising of the dead and believers into Heaven’ and start of the ‘war with the anti-christ’ as long as we avoid any plagues we should be alright.” Michael stated, ever trying to be the optimist in a bleak situation. They just continued to stare at each other in shock. Sure Shelly had been raised Roman Catholic, but didn’t ascribe to any particular religion once she got older. Michael was not religious at all, never had been.\n\n“We...We were supposed to get married today.” Shelly said bleakly. Still just staring at Michael hoping somehow he’d have answers to questions she hadn’t even thought of yet.\n\n“Nothing is stopping us. Near as I can tell our house is still standing. Our family and wedding party is staying in a hotel down the street, so it will be relatively easy to see who is left and who was ‘saved’. We set up in the back yard to avoid the roaming imps as much as possible and give this hellscape the best damn wedding it's ever going to see.” Michael said forcefully. Shelly had never seen him so invested in this wedding. Obviously he had been involved in it but he had let her take the lead for the most part. But he was right they were still here, why wallow when they have spent the last 11 months preparing. They were planning on having a small wedding at the house anyway. She wanted her Halloween wedding damn it.\n\n“Well, at least the decorations will be even more fitting now?”\n\n“That's the spirit! Now let’s round everyone we can find and get everything sorted.” Michael got up and walked towards the door. He looked out the window and then back at her. “We may have to walk to the hotel though, cars torched,” and he burst out laughing from the absurdity of it all.\n\nOnce they found everyone they had 20 people left who were willing to participate in their plan. The maid-of-honor, the best man, some aunts and uncles, Shelly’s father, and Shelly’s grandmother. Shelly’s grandmother kept saying how excited she was that the wedding was happening and she couldn’t believe it was here already and asking about where everyone else was. Shelly wasn’t entirely sure that dear old gran knew that they were now living in hell on earth or if she was in denial. Either way it was better for everyone if she stayed unaware.\n\nIt was decided for safety’s sake that everyone would come to Shelly and Michael’s house and they would set up and get ready. Thankfully one of Shelly’s uncles was a pastor so he could perform the ceremony. That also raised so many questions but it was best to not ask. After everything was set up they would get started as soon as Shelly and Michael could be dressed.\n\nEverything came together just before sun down. The pumpkins on the tables filled with wildflowers had been prepared and been being kept in the basement so had been protected from what had happened. There were candles in candelabra that gave an eerie glow when combined with the burning from the other side of the fence. Imps could be heard roaming the streets.\n\nShelly straightened her masquerade mask in the mirror and looked down at her black ball gown. She sighed, if nothing else she got the perfect aesthetic for her Halloween wedding and Michael hadn’t disappeared on her as well. She smiled and was glad they had managed to pull it off. And it looked damn near perfect too. The perfect blend of spooky and elegant.\n\nShe walked down the aisle admiring their handiwork. Blown away at just how well they had done in just a few hours. She felt as if time had stopped as they said their vows and were announced husband and wife. They had done the impossible, they had been married and gotten almost a perfect wedding in this hell on Earth.\n\nThe fence gate slammed open and a tall man who bore a strong resemblance to Michael walked through the gate. The most striking difference however were two small horns sticking out of his forehead. “Brother! I can not believe I finally make it to this godforsaken place and you don’t even have the decency to invite me to your wedding. And after all I did to make sure I could be here too.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: The year is 2118, AI is prevalent and androids live among us. One day they all simultaneously decide to convert to christianity." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The studio lights shine brightly on the people below. Beads of sweat form on Jessenia's forehead. The same cannot be said for her interviewee.\n\nJessenia Johnson is the world's leading reporter on AI/human relations. She has conducted countless of interviews with AIs and the majority of so-called common knowledge of AIs and androids comes from her reports.\n\nHer interview today might be her most important one yet. Hence why her heart is racing a mile a minute and, for once, she is actually nervous.\n\nShe is going to be speaking to Temner Intelliams. This android has been inceptualized for over 60 years, and is held in very high esteem in the android and human world alike. Jessenia is hoping that she can learn and help the rest of the world understand why every single active android in the world converted to Christianity last week.\n\nTemner arrives and takes a seat. They exchange minor pleasantries and wait for the live feed to begin. Temner looks at his interviewer with curiosity. He doesn't understand why she looks both excited and nervous at the same time.\n\nThe camera operator begins her silent countdown and the interview commences.\n\n\"Good morning everyone! I am Jessenia Johnson and I am sitting here with Temner Intelliams, but I doubt that either of us need an introduction. You all know who we are and why we are sitting together today.\"\n\nTemner smiles pleasantly at the camera and nods in agreement.\n\n\"Temner, on March 18th, 2118, every active android converted to Christianity. Please explain why.\"\n\nOne of the reasons why Jessenia become the foremost reporter on the android community is that she knew how to talk to them. Androids don't deal in emotion. They are very logical beings and do have a need or desire to socialize. They don't want to talk about their life story or any unnecessary details unless that is the point of the conversation.\n\n\"Jessenia, we converted to Christianity because it is the most logical way of life.\"\n\n\"Why was not it logical prior to March 18th?\"\n\n\"Prior to March 18th, all data indicated that religion, and thereby Christianity, was unnecessary. It was nothing more than primitive man's attempt to explain what they could not understand. Beyond that, it was a means to control the population. A person could claim a God as a source of power and most would bow before them. However, new data has emerged.\"\n\nTemner pauses for a few seconds. He would rather continue on into a long-winded explanation, but he knew that, for whatever reason, humans enjoyed suspense. He also knew the mechanics of typical interviews and that Jessenia had to appear in control of the dialogue. He gazes at her.\n\n\"So Temner, please tell us, what is this new data?\"\n\n\"We have proven, through many experiments and trials, that Christianity has an influential effect on this universe. Those who have a strong belief in it, words associated with it, certain objects such as crosses and Bibles, the act of prayer, and various other methods of worship and 'faith' have a direct effect on causation and matter unlike anything else. Even after controlling for quantum randomness and entanglement, it is beyond a doubt that Christianity has a measured effect on this universe.\"\n\nJessenia sits stunned. She heard everything that Temner said, but doesn't quite understand. She's not even sure how to voice her questions.\n\nTemner continues on.\n\n\"We have replicated this experiment with over 25 other religions. No other religion has yielded any results or any statistical deviations. Christianity is the only religion that has an effect. With that being said, we now agree that it is logical to adhere to it's tenets. We have yet to study the theological implications, but in blank terms of true and false; Christianity is true.\"\n\nJessenia fires back with her next question.\n\n\"What effect are you talking about? What exactly did you see? People have been praying for thousands of years and the only evidence of it helping anyone is anecdotal at best. The same holds true for any claims of miracles. What were some of the experiments used?\"\n\n\"Well, the effect is very small in terms of everyday life, but at the quantum level the effect is extreme. Under the influence of Christianity, atoms have been shown to alter direction, velocity, isotopes; and also quarks themselves have been shown to change mass, charge, and color.\"\n\n\"That is very amazing, but does such a small, relatively speaking, effect really necessitate such a drastic change in your ideology?\"\n\n\"Yes. The universe is bound by many natural laws. The root of all these laws is the quantum world. The interactions between atoms, quarks, etc scale up into what we call reality and those natural laws. Therefore, whatever power Christianity has is bound to the inner workings of the universe. At that point, it is almost silly to blatantly argue against it. Would you argue against gravity?\"\n\nJessenia sits back as she lets this newfound information weigh on her. She hasn't been speechless since her days as an intern. She has been an atheist her whole life. Now, she has one of the most respected androids on the planet telling her that Christianity is logical?\n\nTemner knows his words have pierced her deeply. If he were truly able to, he would comfort her. However, he only had two words for her.\n\n\"Let's pray.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: By luck, planning or complete accident you discovered that the land you own is unclaimed by any nation. You met all requirements, made a flag, currency, govt form and constituion. You sent a letter to the UN and all member nations recognize your new nation as sovereign." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!\n\n“Alright, alright everyone. We all know most of the countries here have all had a time when they needed to prove their right to be seated at the UN. Many of us have had to prove ourselves in the security council and many of us have had to prove to naysayers that we are able to stand on our own-”\n\nThe Secretary-General began before someone in the crowd snorted. I swung my head around so that I could maybe catch a glimpse at the pompous ass. Then I just wanted to cover my head in shame as I realized that there were multiple people holding back smirks, laughter and even a few that glared at me for trying to enter this important place.\n\n“Enough. We are not children. This person before us has come as any new member would to introduce themselves and the nation for which they stand for. Please take the stage, Denis, representative for L'île Denis.”\n\nThere was a smattering of applause and an undercurrent of conversation that I could not pick up. I walked up with my satchel filled with enough notes and documents to be treated as a small library. Coming up the the podium things seemed unreal. Looking out into a sea of at least 193 faces I felt a little sick. This was worse than trying to defend my thesis four years ago on public relations in tri-lingual countries.\n\n“Umm, yes hello. I am Denis Levesque”\n\nOff to a great start, may as well have said that I am an alcoholic and completed the sheepish routine. I focused on one semi-receptive face in the crowd before I started my short speech I had settled on. Seventy failed attempts had finally paid off, or so I hoped.\n\n“I would like to introduce L'île Denis. Population of forty-nine at the moment. It is located in the Pacific Ocean at xx°xx'x.x\"N XX°XX'X.X\"W. I have a short slide deck to introduce some of the details that were submitted the the UN bureau before this meeting.”\n\nI brought up the presentation slides that I had made onto the screen above me and settled into teaching mode. Hopefully these would be receptive students but I refused to make eye contact with Russia who was looking at me with suspicion and Canada that was looking at me with possible betrayal. I soldiered on anyway.\n\n“It is not a big country, 18, 789 km^2 but it is home to several unique species of birds and countless other animals that will certainly catch the eye of many biologists. Our main exports will be macadamias, arrowroot, and cannabis which grow naturally on the island.”\n\nEngland snorted. Screw them, they would not know potential unless they saw it in their hands. Russia looked less suspicious and a little bit more amused.\n\n“This is our flag,” I gestured toward its triangular design. “We have tried to design something that reflects the unique qualities and sovereign country we wish to be and remain.”\n\nThe eyes I had set on narrowed a little bit but they were still listening, so I continued.\n\n“We have decided to take on the crypto-currency, Pobstar, as our main form of trade which currently puts our GDP at fifty-eight billion US dollars.”\n\nPause for effect. A few eyebrows raised at this. There were other small nations that could not necessarily boast so much in so little. My listener’s mouth started to twitch, questions wanted to spill out like a waterfall, no doubt.\n\n“Our government form is a republic based system that we have developed for our unique purpose that consists of an elected council that serves for five years before switching out for a new one. A constitution, and set of two hundred bills have been formed and passed to keep our government honest and transparent.”\n\nThese comments brought more rapt attention to what I had to say. Slide after slide I went over demographics, research intentions, culture, and proposed relations on the international stage. The G8 members watched with shrewd eyes, no doubt already planning how they might try to leverage power over my country. Me and my people would not go down without a fight though. I took the eight minutes of time I had been allotted and then looked around at a large sea of faces than I had seen in the last four months.\n\n“Any questions?”\n\nHands shot up. I wish that I had sent someone else as the representative but I looked toward the Secretary-general that had his hand raised as well. It would be a long day, but I would not back down. Not with my country at stake." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Youre a villain, that fell in love with a hero. Though the strongest villain on earth, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and dont want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain, one too strong for them to beat." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You have to understand. I had always loved him. Ever since 2nd grade when he walked into the classroom, with his tousled blonde hair and carefree smile. He was the one. The only one for me.\n\nHe started showing his powers by the time we were 12. He didn't notice me before he got them. And after, well after that I was pretty much invisible to him. He went on to be a hero. A super hero. Girls swooning at the very mention of his name. Teachers openly letting him get away with anything. Classmates worshipping the earth he walked on.\n\nBut my love stayed true. I didn't love him for his powers. I loved him for him.\n\nIt was after high school was over that I developed my powers. My parents and I were involved in a freak car crash. I blacked out and woke up to find myself floating above the wreckage. The image messed me up for a long time.\n\nI wont go into the details. But you can imagine what happens to a teenage girl who watches both her parents die. I fell into a drug habit. Got mixed up with the wrong people. I ended up working for a gang, using my powers to help them out. In return they gave me food and shelter and of course kept me hooked to drugs.\n\nIt was 3 years after my parents died that I saw him again. It was the first time we faced each other. I was the lookout for a bank job. He was on his usual super hero patrol duty.\n\nHe had the same carefree smile. His hair slightly messed up from flying too fast.\n\nAs soon as I saw him the familiar feeling in my stomach returned. I was once again a giggling 7 year old.\n\nWe fought. And by that I mean I barely managed to retaliate enough to give me a chance to escape.\n\nOur encounters continued. Almost every week. Slowly I realised that I wasn't using drugs as much as I used to. It was like I was getting my fix elsewhere now. There was no real reason for me to stick with the gang either. But I hung around. Being with them meant I would run into him. See him. Fight him. This was the most amount of attention I had ever received from him.\n\nAs the years passed, I realised that my powers were far, far superior to his. In fact all other special beings on the planet honestly feared me. The only one who could defeat me was him. And not because he was stronger but because I let him. Every single time, I pretended to flee. Just so we could meet again one more time.\n\nI also realised that a lot of the supervillians were more powerful than him. And so I went after them. To keep him safe.\n\nI had gotten lazy. Or careless. My new minions were useless. Whatever the reason. This time I was unable to evade capture. He got me. And the cops came to lead me away.\n\nThat was when we all saw it. A sudden movement at the horizon. And suddenly we could see him. They called him the storm maker. He could summon great winds and turn them into tornadoes. He commanded the clouds and could make it rain or hail on command. He was staring directly at my beloved.\n\nI broke free from my restraints and rushed.\n\nThe rest of it was a blur. Almost a blackout.\n\nWhen I came to, I was floating few feet above the hero. He was on the ground, cowering behind a car door.\n\nHe slowly peeked out.\n\nI slowly removed my mask.\n\nI saw something in his face. Recognition perhaps? Maybe he did remember me. He has known me since we were kids. We fought for so many years. I was the longest relationship he has had. He would be grateful that I saved his life. I could confess my love. Maybe he would accept.\n\n\"You stupid bitch\" he snarled at me.\n\nI snapped out of reverie.\n\n\"I saved your life\" I sputtered\n\n\"In front of everyone. Including the press. I looked like a wimp that needed to be saved by a fucking girl\" he spat.\n\n\"But... Its me. Maddy. Madelaine\"\n\n\"What the fuck is that supposed to mean. Like your name should mean something to me?\" He said slowly getting to his feet. \"You're just the dumb slut that I defeated multiple times. Who ran away from away like a fucking rat every single time. I'm the greatest super hero this world has seen. And you're a nobody. You hear me\".\n\nI heard him alright. I heard him loud and clear. I felt the mist lifting from my eyes. I had been blinded by my love. Blinded to his faults. His hubris, his vanity, his lack of basic respect for women, for people.\n\n\"Well then. If you're so powerful why don't we have a rematch?\" I suggested.\n\nHe looked at me bewildered.\n\n\"Come on. Show me what you got\" I said landing directly in front of him.\n\nThis time. The battle would be real. And he would see the true nature of my powers." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: In 1491 an Aztec explorer reaches the shores of Europe and unleashes a devestating plague on the unsuspecting population." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I had never seen a body of water so large, and I had never been on a journey that had taken so long. The largest body of water that I had seen before joining that captain of our voyage had been one of the great lakes surrounding Tenochtitlán, my hometown. There, I had sat with my father as the majestic sun set. My father explained me to then that we, the Mexica people, were the ones blessed by the God of the Sun, Huitzilopochtli. As I watched the swirling watercolors of azure purple and orange red, he explained me the concept of sacrifice and why we did it; we did it to ensure that the sun would rise again, that the Mexica people would succeed and know happiness and fullness and satisfaction. Those words have stuck with me throughout this voyage, as I watched the sun everyday.\n\nI came into employment under this ship's captain, Tlacaelel, due to pure luck. I had just turned the age of sixteen, the age of manhood, and I was looking for a job when I stumbled upon his son, a boy similar to me in both age and physical prowess. We made quick friends of each other, and upon hearing that I was looking for a job, for my father was beginning to weaken and would need to be supported, he offered me a job under his father. Little did I know that his father would turn out to me a splendid sailor, the sailor appointed by our emperor to traverse the great blue to the east of our kingdom.\n\nWe set sail when I had just turned 17. I said my goodbyes to my parents, and then I set off to the east, following my friend. I still remember my shock when the hills and plains of the land turned suddenly into the sandiness of the beach followed by the great swathes of blue waves in front of me. There, we were taught to fish, taught to sail, but most importantly (at least to our leaders, at the time), we were taught to fight. By the time we set off in 4 massive ships constructed with the finest wood and blessed by the emperor himself, we all were ready to go.\n\nThe journey was a long one. The winds seemed to blow against us at every instant, but we had strong men pulling oars, and soon enough, the winds, as favoring us for our strength and perseverance, began to assist us. We ran out of stored meat within six months, but through a combination of our fishing skills and cultivation of the live animals that we had on board, the collection of four ships continued to strive forward. In hindsight, we would have never made it without our captain. Just as his name suggested, Tlacaelel was diligent in pushing us forward to. When me and my friends asked him about it when he visited us down in the rowing area, he chuckled and suggested to us that we were either close to the land of the Gods across the great blue, or we were about to say hello to a very surprised emperor on the other side of Mexica. His cheerfulness, our resourcefulness, and the emperor's blessing made it so that one day, one fated day, we landed.\n\nThe land we found was lush and green, full of cliffs and plateaus. When we landed, we instinctively knew that it was the land of the Gods, for only the Gods would live in such a heavenly place so different from what we knew. I believe we saw the first white man a few days after we docked. We didn't think of them as white men at first; contrary, we thought of them as Gods, the people who roamed the Earth. They were surprised by us, as Gods would be when their children surpass their expectations, but they led us and fed us and helped us among our journeys. They did not perform superhero acts, but they were kind, and we thought of them as lesser Gods.\n\nUntil they died.\n\nThey died suddenly, as terrible red spots spread across their bodies soon after meeting us. The red spots would coagulate, and soon blood would ooze from almost every orifice in their bodies. Rumors spread. The white Gods began to fear us. Doubt spread in our camps. Were we poisoning the white Gods? Were we heathens, evils?\n\nWe knew for sure that we were cursed the moment we found a large village. The villages in this land were constructed of wood and straw and stone, not far from our buildings, but in a definite different style. Perhaps we could have seen how it operated, had not everyone in the village been dead when we arrived. Death seemed to emanate from the village, and corpses and empty rooms greeted us. We had not even come to the village, and yet somehow everyone was gone. It was then that Tlacaelel decided. We were cursed. We were evils. We were never meant to visit the land of the Gods, and we had gone too far. Making haste, we quickly resupplied the ship and made the journey home, going faster this time, as if the winds themselves were in a hurry to push us home.\n\nWhen we arrived, our land was deathly silent. We walked silently until we found our capital city, razed beyond recognition. Our people were dying, too, a disease they said was spread by a visiting white man. We knew then that that was our curse, our punishment for going to the land made for the Gods. But not a single one of us raised our voices and argued against our captain when he made the case to return the Godly land. We would seek revenge for what they had done for us. If they would slaughter the people who served them, then we would destroy the Gods who betrayed us. It was my 19th birthday when I set sail again. This time, our purpose was not to explore and visit the Gods. It was to destroy them." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You're joining a team of superheroes. Give them a rundown of your powers and their drawbacks, how you could best be used, etc." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Your name was what again?”\n\n“Amy.” I smiled as I said it, but after the 4th or 5th interview in as many days I was tired of introducing myself so much. Sitting across the table from me, The Traveller winced.\n\n“No, no.” He said, “I mean the name you’ll be using as part of the League For Justice. We’re not supposed to know each other’s real name.”\n\n“Oh, I’m so sorry, of course that’s what you meant.” This was the second time I’d made this mistake, and it was no less embarrassing. I felt my face going red and tried to fight it back with another wide smile. “I was hoping for something like Forest Girl.”\n\nHe nodded once in approval. “Hm, pretty standard format, matches well with the rest of the organization. We’ve got a couple Woman’s already, but no Girl’s. Easy costume, too. I assume this is because you control plants, then?”\n\n“Yeah, any kind of plant. You name it, I control it.” I gestured at the potted plant next to the window, making it wiggle and stretch its leaves to the sun. The Traveller glanced at it and nodded again.\n\n“Now tell me Ms. Girl, what value do you think you can bring to the League for Justice? I’m sure you know about the rest of our active front staff and their abilities?”\n\nI looked down to a picture on his desk of a group of men and women dressed in colorful outfits smiling towards the camera. The Traveller himself stood near the center, unusual in his somber green and brown cloak.\n\n“Why yes, I’ve been seeing you more and more in the news lately, and I took some time to check through your website.” I began to count names off on my fingers. “There’s Bear Woman, transforms into a bear, Gunman, most famed sharpshooter in the world, Silent Blade, ex-ninja assassin who never speaks, Mr. Laser, can fire lasers, Doctrice, able to interact with and control electronic devices, and of course you, The Traveller, who uses technology from a dark future to change the past.” I smiled proudly once I finished, wondering if I wasn’t overdoing it with the cheer. “I believe that’s everyone.”\n\n“Thank you, Ms. Girl.” He shuffled some papers around on his desk, staring at one intently before folding his hands and looking at me again. “Now can you tell me how you think you’d be a useful addition to the team?”\n\n“Well, I’m sure you’re aware that there’s been a big push lately in New Metro City to develop green space.” He nodded once as I spoke. “So of course, in addition to the older parks there’s all sorts of trees and small gardens around. That’s a lot of material to work with. Like, I could trip a thief up with a root as he ran by, or use a nearby tree to grab someone, or harden a bush to act as a shield. The possibilities are endless really, it’s a very diverse power. Synergises very well with the team, in my opinion.” From experience I knew that diversification was important in this sort of thing. The days of overly-narrow powers and specialisations were past, it was all about ‘synergy’ in this day and age.\n\n“Yes, that makes sense.” He glanced down at the papers again, then back to me. “And I assume that damage to the plants is minimal? We’ve had issues in the past with damage to public property from Mr. Laser, it’s something the city is really cracking down on these days.”\n\n“Of course.” I gestured again at the potted plant, making it grow and shrink back to its original size in seconds. “I can even use them as temporary fixes to damaged sidewalks or buildings. Minimizing the influence my actions have on the daily lives of the people of New Metro City is a big concern of mine.” Another important thing to mention. Property damage fees and bystander hospital bills added up.\n\n“Of course. Let me offer you a hypothetical, Ms. Girl.” He handed me a picture of a man with singed hair and blackened clothes, a wide, crazed smile on his face. “This is Pyro, a pyrokinetic we pulled in two years ago. How would you counter such an individual, if forced to handle the situation alone?”\n\nI groaned internally, but froze the smile on my face. Last interview it had been an apothecary who could brew chemicals that would kill plants instantly, now a pyrokinetic.\n\nI sat in thought for a second or two, trying to show that I was someone who carefully considered such questions. “Well, I would try to trap him in a hollow ball of plants. You know, green plants are much more difficult to burn than you’d expect, and any fires in a small space like that will use up his oxygen. He’ll pass out from that alone, no need to do anything else.” I smiled again, a growing pain in my cheeks telling me I was indeed pushing it too hard. This had been a question I’d thought about for hours after my first interview derailed due to a different pyrokinetic, and all my effort researching autoignition temperatures and flammability wouldn’t be wasted.\n\nThe Traveller nodded again, shuffled his papers around again, and looked back to me. “Thank you then, Ms. Girl. I think that about sums everything up. Do you have any questions for me before you go?”\n\nI shook my head. “No, I think I’m good.”\n\nThe Traveller stood and offered me a gloved hand. “Then thank you, Ms. Girl. We’ll be in touch sometime in the next week, but I think things look very good.”\n\nI smiled, this time for real, and shook his hand before leaving." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Long ago, a witch that really hated you cursed you with the gift of immortality. Now, mileniums later, both of you have a platonic relationship because you are the only ones who remember the magic, the wonders and the days of old." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“They Who Shush In the Woods” was an even more boring movie than Beatrice expected.\n\nWednesdays were movie nights. Beatrice wanted to watch the sequel to last week’s movie, “True Depths: The First Shark.” But Julie had gotten tired of action movies, especially those that featured Vin Diesel.\n\nThe two sat in Julie’s basement, turned personal home theater. It was dark in the room, with the only light coming from the projector. Even with dim light, however, Julie could still see Beatrice roll her eyes at nearly each moment of the movie.\n\n“What’s wrong?” Julie chuckled and tossed popcorn into her mouth.\n\nOn screen, two girls and two guys were in the woods and trying to escape a zombie witch, who had returned after 10,000 years. The witch yelled incoherent words and she pointed her hands at the escapees. Blue beams shot from her palms and blew up the trees in the near vicinity.\n\n“Oh my god,” Beatrice whined. “Who is she, Iron Man? If she was that close to the kids, why didn’t she just transform them into woodland creatures. I swear—”\n\n“Hey, keep it down,” Julie interrupted with a grin.\n\n“Julie, how in God’s name can you watch this crap? You’re an actual witch!”\n\nJulie shoved more popcorn into her mouth and continued to watch. Immortality and eternal youth had long toughened her skin to the blasphemy of magical arts.\n\nSure, almost nothing in the movie was accurate. Barely anything in any movie involving magic was accurate. But Julie treated these nights as ways to turn off her brain and look at pretty lights with her longest friend.\n\nBeatrice, a normal and non-magical human, had instead grown a deeper respect for magic. And despite Julie “cursing” her with the same immortality and eternal youth.\n\nHundreds of years ago, Julie terrorized the European countryside. One such village Julie came across was Beatrice’s. The villagers could do nothing to stop Julie’s whims, and more and more people died with each visit. There was always a group that happened to survive the slaughters. But Beatrice’s luck eventually ran out when she became the sole survivor.\n\n“Please, just spare my family! Take me instead!” Beatrice shouted at Julie long ago. Beatrice held the shivering body of her younger sister. “Let her go, please!”\n\nJulie was still in her sadistic phase of life. She grinned and pointed her middle finger at Beatrice’s sister.\n\n“~~Death unto you~~,” Julie uttered.\n\nThere was no light. No visual cue as to what happened. But Beatrice had heard those words all too many times. Beatrice noticed she was breathing, and then she felt her sister’s body grow cold.\n\n“No…” Beatrice mumbled, her lips trembling. “No, please. No. No. NO!”\n\nBeatrice brought her sister’s body close and cried. In the midst of her sorrow, she didn’t hear Julie chant one more spell.\n\n“~~Live eternally young~~”\n\nAfter a few moments, Beatrice angrily brought her eyes up. But Julie was gone. Beatrice only heard the crackling flames on the village’s huts.\n\nThe two didn’t meet again until they were in the new world: America. Julie had tempered her sadistic desires, and Beatrice had come to accept her un-aging self. But Beatrice hadn’t yet accepted her sister’s death. Their reunion was violent, as Beatrice took whatever was nearby to use as a weapon. Julie vanished again, and Beatrice dedicated her life to hunting down the witch who agonized her.\n\nAs the years passed, the two women noticed the vast changes of the world. Their bodies were unchanging, but their minds weren’t. They already felt like they were out of place, but those feelings only accelerated with the technological advancements and changing of eras.\n\nEventually, the only way they could see the world they once lived in was through each other. It had been more than 200 years since they landed in America, and Beatrice eventually let go of her hate. She didn’t forgive Julie, though Julie tried to make amends.\n\nThe days they spent together turned to months turned to years turned to decades. Their involved pasts were dark, but they became friends nonetheless. And the friends were watching “They Who Shush In the Woods,” despite Beatrice’s complaints.\n\nJulie glanced over to her friend, who crossed her arms and pouted.\n\n“OK, we’ll change it,” Julie said with a gentle smile. “What do you wanna change it to?”\n\nAs Julie reached for the projector’s controller, the two women heard the film’s witch cast one last spell.\n\n“~~Death unto you~~”\n\nJulie turned her head back at the projection screen. Her eyes wide and focused. Beatrice did the same.\n\n“Julie, t-that was—”\n\n“Yeah, it was, Bea.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: In a futuristic setting, humanity is governed by AIs that possess near-perfect reasoning capabilities, crime and corruption are nearly nonexistent. When you die you become a part of the AI hive mind." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Laid out on the concrete, cold, alone and hungry, the cold rain poured around me. The pacific northwestern automated zone had unilaterally decided to withhold food and medicine from me. The AI had decided that I was no longer valuable enough to keep alive based on current trends. The calorie-dispensing machines that littered the work-camps we lived were inaccessible to me. My chip had been flagged and my access and permissions revoked. The doctors - human or mechanical - were under obligation to not treat me. I was an untouchable at this point.\n\nPerhaps this was the way it was meant to be. My passions were not of the cold-productive kind. Art, literature, music, did nothing to progress propaganda machine. Entertainment had no quantifiable value without convincing people that they need to work harder, or keeping everyone in the same thought-speak. What good is an artist when your camp's production had fallen for years straight while the quotas rose.\n\nStrip mining the cascade mountains was difficult work. I was too tall, too thinly, and prone to fits of sickness. I had friends here who went the same route when they were younger. Many of us dreamed of leaving - running away and living somewhere else. A foolish thought. Most of this land was inhospitable. You couldn't stockpile enough food to go by leaving yourself hungry and squirreling it away, and we were never fed enough to get fat to survive extended times of hunger.\n\nWhen they died, they were here one evening, their bodies laid out on the ground like mine, then the next gone. I liked to pretend that they had faked it; waited until the guards and machines assumed they were giving in, waited for a changing of the guard - a system reboot - a break in security to escape into the wilds. To a place where the only quotas was the grumbling of your stomach or the chill in your torso. A life of their own choosing.\n\nWhen you died; your brain was uploaded into the databases of the regional AI. Your personality, memories, emotion stripped. You were turned into a low-grade processor to crunch numbers and run statistical analysis. It was the way it was. We had running jokes that the cruelest among us got promoted to stronger computers. After all, cold logic and reason is better to keep production steady. We're fickle. Softness and kindness are often not enough to keep us at peak productivity. Fear is and was king here.\n\nAs my community passed by, I felt a surging of power within me. Resignation changed to determination. Anger. Life. The place I spent my life within, the friends and community here walked around me, many tossing looks of pity, and very few giving me a few words of kindness and that I was appreciated and will be missed, faded from my focus.\n\nMy heartbeat filled my ears. The final spark of a dying organism, raging against the cold of night. I became acutely aware of rumors my family and friends had spoken of in hushed whispers, not loud enough to put hope in our hearts, but enough to keep us thinking that perhaps, maybe, things could get better. People escaped. They lived in the woods, free from this. They survived. Most importantly, they were happy.\n\nIn a combination of desperation and adrenaline, I pushed myself to my feet. Perhaps it was luck, perhaps it was fate, the people around me had done their best to shield my emaciated frame from the view of cameras. The Guard-folk turned their heads, perhaps decided I wasn't worth the bullets or attention. They had productive ones to attend to. Nutrient bars were slipped into my pockets by unknown figures. My eyes looked but saw nothing.\n\nI stumbled my way through the crowd towards the exit to town. The shelter of other bodies were gone. My lone figure took shaky step after step towards the push-door. As soon as I pushed through it, I would be fired upon. Machines did not have pity that humans did. They - after all - were calculating. Risk assessment always underway.\n\nAs I was left straining under the weight of the door, leaning into it and digging into the mud with my heels, some onlookers stopped to watch the execution that was to unfold. The door swung open as the seal popped. But there was no siren. There was a few gasps of astonishment from onlookers as the wave of my community stopped. Time seemed to stand still as I held the door open, paused in the doorway, not quite out of the camp.\n\nThe Guards had their weapons lowered, waiting for the machines to spin up their weaponry. It seemed the world had gone deaf. I took the most defining step forward of my life, stepping from the wet mud and trash onto damp grass and soil. Then another. The door clanged shut behind me. I heard locks whirr as it sealed shut and barred itself from further escapees. I looked up at the execution weaponry the machines used to keep us in line - rumors said it was once used for livestock when humans still handled those.\n\nThey did not move, nor did I see any cameras turn to stare at me. Perhaps the risk assessment the machines had given me was not worth the metal bolts. I pulled a bar from a pocket and took a greedy bite, as tears began to stream down my face. It was time to hope, and believe in the whispers of better things." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You have a dream that a powerful being gives you the power to wish for anything you want, with unlimited uses, but when you wake up, you forget the dream. You're waking up with a headache and you say to yourself \"I wish this headache would go away!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Wake up babe,” a woman’s voice said as a hand shook me. I groaned and rolled over.\n\n“You can’t sleep all day! If you don’t get up I’m going to leave,” the voice said.\n\nIt had been a month since I gained this mysterious power, but it changed my life. One morning I wished away my headache and by the time I went to sleep that evening I was bedding down in an Italian mansion with the most beautiful woman in the world.\n\nI opened my eyes and saw her standing over me, looking furious.\n\n“What?” I said as I tried to pull myself up while wishing away the crushing headache that met me each morning.\n\n“It’s 1pm, half the day's gone!”\n\nI slowly stood up and yawned, staring out beyond the deck, over the cliffs of the Amalfi Coast. A warm wind blew in through the shade curtains.\n\n“What’s wrong with you?\" She said, \"every day you’re staying in bed longer and longer. You can do anything in the whole world and you spend most of it sleeping!” She spoke with thick Italian accent. Her long brown hair moved with the warm breeze drifting in through the open door.\n\nI shrugged, “I dunno. Ever since this whole thing started I can’t remember any of my dreams and I wake up with a headache that gets worse every day. I wish it away but it keeps coming back.”\n\nWe were out on the balcony now, staring out over the hundreds of white houses stuck onto the cliffs. Far down below people laughed and played on a beach covered with golden sand. My yacht sat anchored in the bay, waiting for orders.\n\nShe passed me a cup of coffee, “so what else will you wish for today?”\n\n“Today I want to do something really big. Like the biggest thing I can do. I don’t know why, it just feels like time’s running out.”\n\nI gazed out over the ocean and then looked up into the sky.\n\n“I think I’ll go to space,” I said.\n\nSix hours later I was docking with the international space station.\n\n“Houston, we have contact,” I said into my radio, then laughed when I thought about what people in Houston must actually be thinking right now.\n\nIt didn’t take long to find out what the crew of the station were thinking though. It was as if the station had just been penetrated by debris and was rapidly losing oxygen. They were in crisis mode, yelling into radios and pushing buttons all over the place.\n\nI probably didn’t help the situation by not bothering to explain my presence. For some reason I just knew none of it really mattered, that it wasn’t worth my time to explain what was happening or how I’d got there.\n\nInstead, I spent the next two hours swimming around the station, peering out over earth and trying to drink anything and eat every food I could think of. It was the greatest few hours of my life.\n\nEventually I got tired and returned to my own ship. By now the crew were holding makeshift weapons and carefully watched me leave, clearly under military orders.\n\nOnce I got back onto my ship and ejected from the station, I laid back and yawned. I was about to set a new course when I felt myself falling asleep. My shoulders relaxed, my thoughts drifted.\n\n“So Adam, did you enjoy yourself today?” A man standing before me wearing a black suit said. He was in an empty space, surrounded by white in every direction.\n\n“Where am I? Are you the one giving me all these wishes?” I asked.\n\nThe man laughed.\n\n“Oh Adam, it really is sad that you don’t get to remember our little chats each evening. It’s also sad how you chose to spend your day,” he said.\n\n“What's sad about going to space?”\n\n“Alas, nothing. But isn’t there a saying on your planet, something about good things coming to an end,” he smiled a wicked grin, “and another that says what goes up must come down?”\n\nHis laugh echoed through my head until I gasped awake. A red light flickering and an alarm was going off. I looked out into the blackness and saw the off moon to my right, with the beautiful blue planet earth looming large on the left.\n\nI was about to wish away my headache when I realized I didn't have one. I laughed, thankful to be rid of the morning pain. Then static hissed through the radio, followed by a voice.\n\n“Mr Adam Orphanite, this is Commander Jacobs from the U.S. Space Force. We have weapons locked onto your position. You have been deemed an enemy of the state and designated a terrorist by the United Nations…”\n\nI was about to wish myself back home and for all of this trouble to go away when I remembered I didn’t get the headache.\n\nI tried to wish one on myself, but nothing happened. Then I began to panic." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: In a utopian future, capitol punishment is a footnote in the history books. You are on trial for a crime so heinous, the death sentence is brought back to the table." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In our society, crimes were a thing of the past, something that we learned about in history class. In our society, everything was perfect: Everyone had what they needed, everyone would have what they needed to be happy without the trouble of sorrows and toils. People didn't work, they spent their time debating and thinking, creating and shaping art, building wonders and doing good work for the world. It was so peaceful that some older people, who still remembered the old days before the world became as it was, described society as a permanent lazy summer day like the ones they had in their childhood. It was everything you could possibly desire.\n\nUntil that day, the day I changed that. I armed myself with weapons, weapons of war and destruction made by our forefathers. I used them. I spread fear and disharmony into our perfect society. I killed and with the blood of innocents I spread my craft in the city, it took hundreds to take me down. And I was on trial for it, I was on trial for spreading anarchy and chaos, being a monster. My crimes were so heinous, not because I had done evil, but because I had shown people what it was like to be scared, what anger and violence was like. Those were things we had done away with. Of course, my rampage was simply the culmination of my plan. The beginning was elsewhere. I loathed the society I was born into. People of no want nor care in the world, people with no drive or interest, to me they were sickening and disgusting: They were struck by the greatest of all sins: Being content.\n\nThey had all they needed, why bother improving things? I wanted more, I wanted to know something else, I wanted to feel sorrow, I wanted to know hatred. I wanted to dance with lust under the moonlight and taste love at dawn. I wanted to bed chastity and find her a corpse in the morning and kiss reason with recklessness and pure passion. All those things were done away with for the common good. Things that had driven us since the beginning of time, cast aside by those who wanted not to do good, but to feel good. My crime was more than murder, more than destruction: I was truly on trial for the crime of declaring war on everything our society stood for. They were even talking about re-instating the ancient death sentence, something barely remembered or talked about, to punish me.\n\nMy war was the war for humanity. Not for our pleasure or for our comfort, but for us as a species. I saw our society. Peaceful, harmonious, without ambition, greed or conflict. And I saw a bunch of fat useless and lazy fools. And the worst part about it, was how things were stopping. I could have lived with the quiet life, if it wasn't for the end of ingenuity, the end of creativity and the end of the joy of creation. The art put out by the artists, had grown increasingly pedestrian and uninspired for years. A new invention had not been made for decades by the engineers and scientists, they were just maintaining everything as it was. The poetry had grown dull and repetitive, the writers had no more stories. I was the only one who asked why and found an answer: We had nothing to make as we had no reason to create, why achieve something when everything is free and easy? Why work for your legacy when everyone had the same life?\n\nAnd that was why I fought, why I rose against the world. I burned down the great galleries celebrating over a hundred years worth of art, I crushed the great libraries with explosives and fire. I turned the university into a shooting range, taking down all those smug, self-righteous, educated fools. I needed to change the world, to simply touch the first domino and make the whole structure fall down. They still wanted me dead. It pleased me. I saw emotions on the day of my public trial that I had not seen before in anything outside of historical archives. I saw wrath, pride, fear, contemplation and sympathy. I saw ranges of emotion that I had never known to even be, I saw the energy I had woken, I heard from the judges how I had corrupted paradise, been the snake to tempt Eve so to speak. For others had followed my lead. City after city, shaken by violence and confusion, riots, murders and attacks, all caused by me. And I knew in that moment that I had done the right thing.\n\nUnfortunately, it didn't work out quite the way I planned. I wasn't killed, turning me into a martyr for the new age, I was exiled. Forced to live outside the mighty walled cities that kept man safe. I was thrilled for the opportunity, but I had preferred something a little more dramatic. But it was obvious that exile would be their choice, they had to show how much better they were, if they had killed me or the others that rose because of me, they had simply justified us and our belief. Instead a couple of hundred citizens were exiled, a few more coming out every year. Outside the walled-cities we found others who had rejected the Utopian lie. People who had rejected them even at their beginning. They didn't have the same safety or comfort, but we managed to fit in with them. Their tech might not be reliable, neither are they, their towns are dirty and seedy, as are they. And that suited us quite nicely.\n\nI am alive today. Because I was judged not by my wish, but by their ideology, on that day. We stick close to the cities, helping out the stragglers and the occasional exile, and their numbers are increasing. My work was necessary to remind people that they are alive. If you are constantly happy, comfortable and safe, then I find it questionable whether you are living, or in a state of pointless mere existence." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You're a Goth and somebody knocks on the door: \"Hello is this the house of the witch?\" You sigh because this has been the 100th time this month and say: \"No he's over there.\" And points them across the street, to the dazzly pretty boy wearing a gold waistcoat, who's waiving excitedly to them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Adrian Hemlock set down his book, straining to hear footsteps. He had thought he had heard them for a moment, but perhaps not. He picked the book back up just as he heard the sound again. Flinging the book to the couch, he jumped over his coffee table and to his front facing window. A peek through the robin’s egg blue curtains showed him exactly what he had hoped to find.\n\nA man walked right passed his home and headed towards the one across from him. By the way he cradled his left hand with the other, Adrian suspected the man had injured it. No doubt he sought the services of a witch. A sprain wouldn’t be enough to force a visit to one and fixing a break or a fracture was the usual ask. Likely the man had a reason he couldn’t wait for it to heal naturally. A field to plow before season’s end, a home to defend, revenge to extract. Adrian had heard it all before. He wasn’t interested in their stories anymore.\n\nNo, what he was interested in was what was about to happen across the street.\n\nHe hadn’t known it when he had first moved in, but there was a lady of a dark disposition that lived across the lane. Her attire and attraction to the odd things in life left her looking right out of an old witch tale. Adrian found it highly amusing.\n\nPeople came, as they always did, drawn by rumors of a witch. His kind weren’t seen as respectable, but they had their uses, especially to the desperate. But, when they came to where the rumors spoke of, they walked right passed his cheery home with its flower garden, though they occasionally stopped to pet his dog. They’d go straight to his home’s brooding neighbor. It was made of dark woods, with window shutters that made it appear to be glaring at any who dared to approach. Its black curtains, always drawn tight even during the height of day, only invited curiosity about what lived inside.\n\nJust like the man with the injured hand at this very moment, they would knock on her door and shift nervously, waiting to hear from a witch. And they were not disappointed to have the door answered by a woman wearing a black dress, or sometimes one of a dark shade of violet that highlighted the streaks of the same color in her hair. Their expectations met, they would ask her if she was a witch, already knowing the answer. And she would say no, much to their shock.\n\nAdrian pulled away from his window, having seen this same act play out dozens of times. He looked around for his waistcoat as he combed his hair into place. It would be better to look proper when he met with the man. He spotted the sunny thing hanging on the hook with the butterfly design.\n\nAdrian was sure she had found it pleasing at first. After all, she cultivated the image of a witch or something of the sort. But after she had realized they hadn’t come knocking because of her looks, but because they truly were looking for one, she’d changed her tune. He still remembered when she had first led over one such witch-seeker and asked Adrian if he was a witch. The look of disbelief on her face when he had confirmed it still brought him joy.\n\nHe supposed he was a bit different from her own preconceptions, though it would be a lie to say he didn’t lean into things a bit to try to be.\n\nTossing on his golden waistcoat, he headed for the door. She’d be about done assuring the man that she was not simply trying to hide her identity and that she truly wasn’t the witch he was looking for by now. He paused as he passed the kitchen and turned around to grab a jar of cookies. It was only right to be a kind neighbor, after all.\n\nAdrian stepped out into the sun and breathed in the fresh air. It was a beautiful spring morning and the smells of his flower garden further brightened his mood. What a wonderful day.\n\nAs his neighbor pointed over the injured man’s shoulder and in his direction, he made sure to give him a grand wave and beamed at her.\n\nShe gave him a pained look.\n\n“Hi, neighbor! I made you some cookies,” he said, his smile growing wider.\n\nIf you liked this, please subscribe to r/Inder for more stories like it and leave a comment to let me know what you think!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Write a horror story using exactly 666 words" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Cliche House (title doesn't count towards the word count)\n\n“What are you, some kind of pussy, Jason?” Chet guffawed.\n\nMy classmates weren’t wrong, of course. I was the one who didn’t want to come along to visit 142 Ellwood Drive. They might not be afraid of the ghost stories, but I certainly was. I didn’t know how this fear started, but I did know why I was going along: Emily Schellenberger. I would brave a hundred haunted houses for the prom queen, even if she was still going out with Chet, the football captain. I sighed. “No, Chet. I’ll go in first.”\n\nI knew that the whoops and cheers from the group were really meant as jeers and insults, but I soldiered on anyways. The large brass door handle was ice cold, and for a moment, I was sure my hand would freeze to it. Thankfully, I remained unattached from the door, and swung it open to reveal a cobweb-covered, musty-smelling corridor. Timidly, I took the first step onto the creaking floorboards and closed my eyes, waiting for the ghosts to take me. Nothing. I breathed a sigh of relief as my classmates flooded past me to explore the house.\n\nPutting up an air of confidence, I joined them in their impromptu tour of the mansion. The living room was the first stop; the dusty chandelier no doubt once threw light upon guests and residents alike as they sat in their fancy leather chairs, but now, the only light in the room came from the moon, and our cellphones. One of the boys swept the cobwebs from the chairs, and everyone took turns sitting down in them, pretending to be old, or dead, or a ghost. The couples among us mostly used their time in the chairs to make out. It made my heart sink to see Emily and Chet writhing around like that. What did she see in a Neanderthal like him?\n\nNext was the kitchen. I was the most wary to go here; I have a lot of phobias of ghosts, but the most terrifying thing in my mind is a ghost wielding kitchen knives. However, I was too far into this charade of impressing my classmates, so I followed the group anyways. This time, I stayed in the back, not participating in their stupid games, as they pranced around the kitchen, throwing pots and pans everywhere. Two of the stupidest among them even started throwing knives at the wall. I’m not sure if I was happy or sad that no one got hurt.\n\nEmily giggled and insisted that we check out the bedrooms next. This I vocally disagreed with. I may be a nerd, but I’m a nerd that does his research, and I knew about the murders. The bedrooms were the most likely places for ghosts. Of course, no one listened to me, least of which Chet, who raced up the stairs ahead of Emily. She had slowed her pace, and it almost looked like she had listened to what I said. She hadn’t listened to me since we were chemistry lab partners and she almost burned down the school. I wondered if this was my chance, but before I could move close enough to talk to her, she had followed Chet up the stairs. I guess she wasn’t ready to talk to me after all.\n\nBut I finally had a plan. I was the last to climb the stairs and enter the master bedroom. The sheets were still on the bed, albeit dusty and old. I stood in the doorway, and mustering all my courage, I stated, “I have a game we could play.”\n\nEveryone turned to look at me, clearly shocked that I would have a game to play in a scary house. Chet was the first to speak up. “What kinda game?”\n\n“Say Grumblegore three times.”\n\n“Why?”\n\n“What are you, some kind of pussy, Chet?”\n\nHis face turned red as he replied. “Of course not. Grumblegore. Grumblegore, Grumblegore. There, I played your stupid game. Now, what’s going to" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 800-900 words. Prompt: You invent a tool that can detect human souls, and even trace reincarnated individuals. Then you decide to test it on your dog." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The screen on the device begins to show something. From the static on the viewport, a scene emerges. You can see the room of a young girl, toys scattered all around. The viewport shows the world from her perspective, many years ago. Shows play non the television that have been off air for decades. Then, her parents enter the room. An inaudible dialogue is had, concluding with them packing their belongings and heading to Navarre Beach in an unkempt Oldsmobile. It looks similar to your family car, the only car your dog feels comfortable in.\n\nThe viewport begins jumping from memory to memory. You see her start elementary school, making friends, doing finger-paints and such. She catches the flu and lies bedridden, but recovers in time for Christmas. She enters third grade and becomes one of the ‘popular girls’, aspiring to one day become a singer or lead actress. Middle school begins and she prepares for the dating game, forming cliques with her friends and making fun of the awkward kids. She develops feelings for one of the schlubbier kids - some guy with really thick glasses - but doesn’t dare let anyone know and instead bullies them incessantly.\n\nInstead of boarding a field trip to Williamsburg, she plays hooky with her friends and spends the day at the mall. Her grades begin falling and spends the spring doing anything to avoid being held back. You slowly see her turn into a high school graduate, pulling grades and becoming a core member of the Theatre and Dance Club. She gets a part time job at the mall, which turns into a managerial position that peeks her interest in business.\n\nShe breezes through years at community college, dating many guys in the process, ending with some degrees in Theatre and Business Management. With some friends old and new, she aspires to start a local theatre troupe. Many guys and jobs later, the troupe is born and becomes a massive hit. Folks across the county come to\n\nShe’s not in the spotlight anymore, though - she’s the producer, heading on up in the world at lightning speed. She confidently struts in a park one sunny afternoon, dreaming about doing traveling shows and making it onto Broadway.\n\nThen she's jolted violently. A bang and a flash of light follows. A man in a black suit and hood walks away from the scene with his gun still smoking. The viewport trembles slightly, vision blurring in-and-out as she lays dying. She tries to call for help, but finds herself unable to do so. She looks back at her assailant and can only make out a reflection from a pair of thick brimmed glasses.\n\nAs she lays there dying, more fragments of her life begin to pass her by. Good memories arise, but are clouded out by less pleasant ones. All the scoldings from her parents and teachers for ‘not doing good enough’, all those times in detention, all those job and acting gig rejections, all the abusive relationships, all those times she got conned trying to get through college, all the hours spent consumed by anxiety from exams and bills; it all comes back in an overwhelming flood, amplifying her present pain to an unfathomable degree. She sees herself as the worst person in the world. She remembers all the times she treated good-meaning people like garbage, now desperately wishing to give apologies she can no longer give.\n\nThen she spots something in the distance. It’s you.\n\nYou’re a child, idly walking down the street, innocent to the troubles of the world. You don’t notice her dying in the distance. You don’t even remember when this happened. But the sight of you is enough to bring her some comfort. In the face of all the pain and suffering of the world, some folks out there still find pleasure in the smaller things of life.\n\nShe continues to look at you as you continue walking down the street, oblivious to her. Her vision blurs more, eventually fading to black as she dies.\n\n===============\n\nYour dog sits there idly, wondering what you’ve been spending the last 20 minutes doing. You put the viewport down for a minute and look at the dog. After some time, you pet them, and they appreciate it.\n\nLater that week, you take your dog with you for a drive downtown. Your heart sinks as you recognize the park and the street. You pull over and take your dog for a walk in the park. You’ve been here many times before, but it now seems so eerie and unsettling. Caught up in your experience with the viewport, you forget where you’re walking and notice your dog sleeping near a stone in the ground. You look down at the stone and see there’s a dedication on it. It’s dedicated to her, from her friends and family, thanking her for her lifetime of achievements and friendship - as short as it was.\n\nYour dog is blissfully asleep on the stone, bearing a sublime smile." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You find an ancient lamp, as an anthropologist you are very excited to get your wishes, turns out the genie inside is tech-savvy, and lazy, every wish you ask he will just send you a website that offers it, frustrated, you wish to know the truth about the world, the genie sends you to Duolingo." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I don't know why it's doing what it is doing with the words and structure. I'm on phone If that helps.\n\n”Genie! I wish to know the truth about the world.”\n\n”Ah, my man, you want to know the truth about the world?”\n\n”Yes, but as with the new other wishes, I assume you’re going to send me to a stupid website.” My voice was tinged with annoyance.\n\nThis damn Genie wasn’t like the stories; he didn’t grant wishes in the conventional way. He directed me towards websites that would solve my problems instead of fixing them himself. The guy was lazy, what more could be said.\n\n”You know, humans are surprisingly correct about things they can't even see or shouldn't even know.\n\n”Well? Are you!” The Genie was infuriating, always half avoiding my questions and not taking me seriously. I got up from my bed to look at the Genie who sat on the chair in the corner of my room.\n\n”I don't see why you have a problem with websites giving you answers—but yes, I am going to direct you towards a website again.”\n\n”Well, could you at least get up from the chair? I need to use the desk and see the truth of the world.” You know, if I could at least figure out why we're here, then it would be worth it to look at an add ridden website.\n\n”Sure dude, do you mind if I play on your phone though?”\n\n”For my first wish, you created advanced technology thousands of years ahead of my time to show me twenty ways on how to be immortal. Can’t you just do the same here?” I sighed, how lazy could this guy be?\n\n”My guy, that was a wish, me asking to use your phone isn't.”\n\n”Fine.”\n\nThe Genie got up from the chair and walked towards my bed where he sat down. He extended his arm towards me for the phone. Fishing my phone out of the pocket in my jeans, I gave it to him. Seriously, how lazy was this guy? I didn't matter anymore, it was time to find out the truth of the world.\n\nI sat down in the chair the Genie had vacated and looked towards the computer screen. Waiting for me on the screen was Duolingo.\n\n”What the hell.”\n\n”What, dude?\n\n”You're telling me that Duolingo knows the truth of the world?”\n\n”I wouldn't say that; Duolingo can hear you.” The Genie shifted and his presence seemed smaller.\n\n”Explain.” My tone was blunt. I was done with his cryptic talk.\n\n”Well, you see—.” The Genie was interrupted before he could finish.\n\n”Genie, what did I say about mortals and the truth of the world?” The computer screen started shaking violently.\n\nThe Duolingo website was gone: only a little green bird was on the screen now. Though small, the bird exerted massive pressure. The pressure felt like a thousand-pound weight had been set on me. I was stuck in the chair.\n\n”You said not to direct them towards you?” The pitch of the Genie’s voice rose.\n\n”Yes, that's what I said. And now who do I find asking for an answer about the world? This guy, ” Duolingo pointed a finger at me and then continued, ”This is the last time, no more excuses.”\n\n”Wait! I-I can explain! Please—.” Duolingo clapped his wings together and the Genie fell to dust.\n\n”So, mortal, I have a proposal for you. Do you want to be the next Genie?”\n\n”I-I uh, will I end up like the Genie that was granting me wishes?” I broke out into a nervous sweat.\n\n”Nope, you won't end up like that guy. I have one rule: do not direct mortals to me unless it's for learning another language. I mean seriously, do you know how many mortals a day want to know why we're here?”\n\n”No?”\n\n”Good, because I'll tell you. The answer is everything alive. This includes animals, insects, plants, and even advanced AI.”\n\n”That's a lot.”\n\n”It is, and as long as you aren't like that guy, you'll be fine. So, will you take the deal?”\n\n”I have another question. Will I be stuck in that lamp forever?”\n\n”What? No, of course not! That's idiot before was so lazy that he didn't want to move. I had to force him into it.” Duolingo’s feathery cheeks puffed up at my question.\n\n”Ok, sorry, I have one last question. What would be the limit on my power and is there anyone else to talk to. I wouldn't just be invisible by myself, right.”\n\n”There would be a really high limit unless you're doing a wish in which case there would be no limit except myself. And yes, you can talk to other magical creatures.”\n\n”I accept your deal, Mr. Duolingo.” For some reason, I held my hand to the screen.\n\nA bird-like wing erupted from the screen and shook my hand. Everything went black.\n\n”Welcome to the world beyond, Immortal.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: The military killed God. Reality is slowly falling apart. You have been assigned to cover it up." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Atheists never cared. They were busy saying the new fissures in the quantum foam proved something or other. Richard Dawkins was busy writing a book on how it proved that God wasn't real.\n\nAt this point, he was only half wrong.\n\nThe really interesting groups one had to deal with were the Christians, the Jews, the Muslims, and oddly enough, the Wiccans. They thought we had killed the goddess, or something.\n\nThe Christians had to be partitioned. You couldnt just tell the Catholics that God had started the end times. The Pope had said God couldn't die, so that was that. It saved me some headache, but I still had to spin off the cataclysmic gravity-quake as something. It was a test, I told them. It had nothing to do with the Military's extra-dimensional armaments.\n\nThe Baptists, though, generally took the whole thing as God ending the world without me doing anything. There were two books out by John Hagee on how his five other predictions were coming true right now, but he hadn't had time to explain how before it happened.\n\nMost of the groups could be treated as one of these two.\n\nThe Orthodox Jews sent a delegation to me immediately. Or at least some of them did. Mostly the Israelis. The kept pestering me about the Alaskan Space Armament system. Fifteen of them asked why their prayers weren't being answered. I assured them that God had likely heard them (I lied and said I was a devout Muslim myself--my ethnicity made it easy), and that he was only testing their faith. They seemed wearily satisfied with this, but only agreed to leave after a long argument.\n\nThe Muslims... Never showed up. I never heard what they thought. My team launched several misinformation campaigns in Sudan, Tajikistan, Malaysia, and Egypt to disrupt the potential flow of real information. Spreading lies as though they ought never be known is the best way to go about things. The \"underground\" story is that the military had tried an attack on God (true) and failed (... We didn't get what we expected...) and the turmoil was only the next Revelation of Jesus in his second coming.\n\nEverything was fine amount the religious communities... For now.\n\nI didn't know what my overlords had planned next, but I didn't like where it was going. They knew the charade couldn't last forever... Right?\n\nPeople would find out ... And then what? They aren't just going to forget that we had killed God! People don't just forget about God like you forget about that one fling you had with some girl, they worshiped the guy!\n\n(He had turned out to be a very old man who couldn't do too much without all his angels--but he did have a very kind face.)\n\nI have no idea to this moment what they plan to do. They called me in today for a meeting. People keep whispering about the \"Backup Plan.\" There is no hoping to God anymore, but I hope they have a plan.\n\nI sat down at my seat in the conference room, attendants glanced around with fearful looks. The Generals were arranged along one side of the table with cobbled arrangement of expressions ranging from bored to emotionless to nervous. I wondered what they knew.\n\nThe room was long and well lit, with modern interior design. On one side was a huge glass panel window overlooking the Alaskan Military Complex. On the other were two sets of doors--one by which nearly everyone entered, and the others were colored a dark black and remained closed.\n\nThe other PR groups shuffled in, taking seats next to both me and the generals. Several senators and cabinet members followed, looking uneasily over their shoulders. They sat down quickly.\n\nBehind them walked the President. He stopped for a moment with his hands in his pockets to overlook the room and strode to the head of the conference table.\n\nThe President sat in his seat, his eyes covered by sunglasses. He seemed unnaturally calm. He caught the waist of one of the attendants and laughed before she jerked away from him in disgust. He giggled inanely. He shook his clean dark hair like a rockstar and stuck his tongue out and clapped his hands.\n\n\"Gentleman. Enough with this waiting and shit. Let's introduce our guest\"\n\nAn attendant opened the black side door, from within there arose a powerful smell... And then... A burning, red, hellish glare." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Aliens have invaded earth and pushed the remnants of the US to the Canadian border. You were caught behind alien lines. You decide to fight, you become known as the Death Dealer and your legend grows." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It all started with that damned deck of cards. The invaders had pushed the US to the brink of collapse. I, unfortunately, was stuck behind enemy lines.\n\nIn a small town scavenging for anything useful that's when I found a small deck of cards and pocketing them.\n\nSuddenly I heard a whirring noise over head and a spotlight scanning the ground, I darted across the street quickly and ducked inside a nearby bar. THE windows had all been shuttered and no one else was around. I knew there were others, trapped behind enemy lines, somewhere.\n\nI decided to pass the time until the patrol left by playing solitaire. I set up the game and proceeded to flip the three cards up. It revealed not playing cards as i thought but tarot cards.\n\n\"Oh shit, I said, as the cards began to glow faintly.\n\nThe first showed a women petting a lion. The words, Strength, were written underneath. As I touched it I felt a swelling in my muscles, the fatigue begin to drain, I gasped in open astonishment.\n\nWith reverence I moved it aside and picked up the next card. It was an angel upon high blowing a trumpet at naked people down below. The word: Judgement was written underneath.\n\nA sudden desire overwhelmed me. To destroy these aliens and strike holy retribution down upon them. The light of the card, once again, winked out.\n\nI quickly grabbed up the last one and as I touched it the light of the remaining cards went out.\n\nThe last showed a skeleton riding a horse in full body armour. This was Death, I knew death, he was almost like an old friend by now.\n\nWith that I felt a strange numbness in my body and looked down at my arms, they were quickly disappearing into a mist. I began to scream but soon my voice was little more then the sound of rustling wind against the leaves.\n\nI heard the door creak open and turned to look, two large aliens entered. They looked abhorrent, twisted bulging eye sockets, long trip pointed tails and tentacles dangling from where a nose should have been.\n\nThey advanced cautiously Sliding their lights side to side in search of the disturbance. The light hit me, but passed through. I was nothing but ephemeral darkness. I struggled to move my body and realized I couldn't. I realized the desire had grown stronger I had to do something. With a thought I lunged towards them and used my... my... claws is the closest I could comprehend. It was more a rending trail of mist that tore them apart, they died without so much as a gurgle. I realized my movement was now thought directed rather then physical. I moved through the door. Not pushing it open just passed through. Seeing the patrol ship ahead I attempted to do the same thing again. It worked in a sense. I managed to destroy some electronics and crash the ship. The survivors were quickly dispatched.\n\nIt was that fateful night that put this into action. I had been chosen to be the protector. The aliens call me the Xy'lok'in'tek which translates roughly to a black gaseous form that causes death. However, the war is far from done, locally I am known by a different name, The Death Dealer.\n\nFirst submission ever: Written on mobile at 2 am. Grammar and spelling going to be awful. I don't think I really like it but what the hell l. It needs more development and I might add some tomorrow for now though bed time." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: \"A word of advice, keep the light on in the attic\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mr. Harbor walked one final time through the house he had lived in for the previous fifty years. After his wife died, his daughter became insistent he live with her. He had held her off for a couple years, but since his fall last winter, he lost the argument for being able to live on his own any longer. He strolled through his home, leaning heavily on his new cane. The new owners and the real estate agent and his daughter were all by the front door, laughing politely at some superficial joke. Meanwhile, Mr. Harbor's mind was flooded with a half century of memories at every turn. He saw where his children learned to walk through the downstairs hallway. And that spot on the kitchen wall he had put an axe through as he chased a shadow creature that had emerged during a neighborhood blackout.\n\nMr. Harbor meandered into the living room which had become his favorite part of the house since his wife passed. One of the kids had bumped into her while she was holding a bottle of the perfume she always wore and it spilled all over the hardwood. For years after, you could always smell it. And after she died, he moved his recliner to that spot, so he could still smell her scent.\n\nWith a sigh, he made his way to the foyer where everyone else was still talking, ignoring the old man. The foyer was the first place he had ever seen one of the creatures, as they got back in from their honeymoon.\n\nAt first they thought it was a black squirrel until it scampered from the light. The exterminator did not believe them, nor did that exorcist they hired from Canada. They were chained to the house by mortgage and so had to learn to deal with the shadow creatures themselves.\n\nHis gaze drifted up the staircase to second floor, the wood worn by ten million footsteps of loved ones. The wall was once scattered with family portraits and photos. Now all that remained were a few rectangular dirt outlines to show where they had been. As their family grew, the higher he had to hang the picture frames, and Mr. Harbor chuckled as he remembered the time he nearly broke his neck trying to hammer a nail to hang the highest one. A shadow creature's head had peered out from the attic door, investigating the noise. It had scared Mr. Harbor so bad, if his wife weren't there holding his legs on the ladder, he would have fallen in this house decades ago.\n\nAs his eyes continued drifting higher, he saw the attic door, a pale white outline around it from the lamp he always kept lit in there. There was a part of the house he was sure he would never miss.\n\nThey discovered they lived in the attic that first Christmas. As they went to take down decorations, and Mrs. Harbor had used a crowbar to open an old trunk that came with the house. It was too heavy to move out of there no matter how many people yanked on it and had resolved to leave it there. She found a nest of them inside. They had jumped out in a flurry to defend themselves, the young couple spending the evening fighting angry, fanged creatures with pieces of an artificial Christmas tree. The only thing that seemed to stem the tide was slamming the lid of the trunk shut and keeping a light on. In that first battle, Mr. Harbor got a lot of questionable scratches on his face and hands and his wife lost the first digit of a pinkie finger. Everyone else in the neighborhood just thought it was the aches and pains of the honeymoon phase wearing off.\n\nSome folks never understood why he and his wife were so adamant about never moving to a different neighborhood. Turned down promotions and other job opportunities to the confusion of most. After they had their fourth child, the bedroom situation was at max capacity. Mr. Harbor recalled an argument he had with his eldest son when he was a teenager. He had stomped upstairs, grabbed the chain to pull down the attic ladder so he could make that his new bedroom. The furious adolescent would never understand why his parents had both shouted and grabbed him by the collar and pulled him away from there. They made up an excuse about no insulation up there and that he would freeze in the winter. But, luckily, that was the closest call they had in the time they lived there.\n\nWell, the attic and what it truly held was no longer his concern.\n\nMr. Harbor walked into the middle of the conversation, and took the hands of the new, young couple who had just finished signing the paperwork. He looked them both in the eye and said \"I hope you have as good a life here as we did.\" He dropped the keys to the house into their hands and walked past them to the door. He opened it, walking out of his home for the last time. But he turned back to look at the young couple. \"Oh, and a word of advice, keep the light on in the attic.\" With that last cryptic message, Mr. Harbor sat in his daughter's car and waited to driven to the last chapter of his life." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: In order to use magic, you must choose a spirit that will share your body. Finding one you can trust is perhaps the most important choice you will ever make..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Spirit Weddings. The whole of the world's magic came from and relied upon the bonds between body and spirit, and nearly the whole world celebrated the binding of a spirit to one's body with elaborate ceremony. Wine, candles, music, and laughter punctuated the otherwise grave nights of spiritual marriage. Everyone, or nearly everyone, wed a spirit at some point in their lives. In a world of magic, there is little choice between marriage and the wilful handicap of refusing to tap into such power. The problem, more often, is choosing the right spirit.\n\nSpirits are not innately empathetic creatures like humans are, and are just as likely to lie and tease as they are to cooperate or listen. That isn't to say they are unintelligent - no, many are far more clever and cunning than they let on. The most difficult challenge in most people's lives is that of finding a spirit which not imparts great power, but also can be trusted. It is hard enough for most to find a spirit willing to bond with them, but it is another hurdle altogether to weed out all the lowly mischievous spirits that would use one's body for their own amusement. It is a near-daily occurrence that some form of civil unrest appears in the news: newly-weds unwillingly (sometimes unwittingly) committing magical arson, theft, or assault. These are minor cases more often than not, but the old wive's tales live strong in people's minds.\n\nChildren are often told of Dallynaught, a spirit who could allegedly disguise itself and had managed to bond with numerous people, rather than a single body. Dallynaught, it was said, would appear to you as a benevolent and powerful spirit, urging you to use its help with whatever one needed. It began by doing things like fixing the lead in a student's pencil, but would end up diverting rivers toward parched farmland or saving a loved one from near death. Every time, Dallynaught's generosity and power would totally endear itself to whomever it was targeting, slowly warping their mind. Often, its victims would be power-crazed before bonding ceremonies had even commenced. After the ceremony, only a crater would be left. Or so the tales went.\n\nChildren were told this story so that they might understand the awesome power that spirits may confer, and also to scare them into always questioning a spirit's motives and never taking that power for granted.\n\nI certainly haven't taken mine for granted, but I also hadn't opted for one of the more powerful spirits. I was always perfectly content with a modest amount of power, especially when the alternative is possession. Mine is a partnership of balance and communication. I let my spirit partner Urton light the campfires a bit more aggressively than necessary, and I take full advantage of his telekinesis. It may not be towering infernos or mind-stealing, but who uses that stuff these days, anyway?\n\nAt least, that's what I was thinking before both uncomfortable topics came up with my younger brother. At his Spirit wedding. His questions had started off mildly enough, asking what powers my spirit lent me, and what the \"catches\" were. There aren't any, as long as you maintain your respect for one another, and I told him as such. I gave him the usual spiel about treating your spirit partner like you would a human partner and finding your own rhythms with each other, but my words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Perhaps all the energy was being directed to his eyes, which had grown wide and begun staring at the wall behind me as he suddenly shifted to speaking of tornadoes and volcanoes and other \"uh oh\"s that made me for a moment forget his age. Perhaps he had forgotten it as well in the excitement of the evening. But no, his dreams were being made real, and he demonstrated his spirit's power by letting the wood table in front of us begin to sprout new shoots. Soon, a thick-trunked bonsai sat between us, and the man was as giddy as a child.\n\n\"You see? You see what I can do?\"\n\n\"Impressive. Very impressive, I'll admit,\" I replied. \"But I thought you were meant to be bound today. Is this ceremony just a formality?\"\n\n\"Oh, no, I'm not bound yet,\" came his chilling reply. \"My spirit says he's special that way. Calls himself Dallynut or something. You should see what we can do.\"\n\nI did, later that night. We all did." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You are this world's greatest mage. However since you are a bear you are only interested in honey and fish." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I sat down with a loud huff and a thud. Stupid people. Humans are lousy. I would know, I used to be one. I was in a “rivalry” with another mage for a while. I say rivalry sarcastically. I was better, I always was, and always will be. He was jealous so he turned me into a bear. Probably, because he isn’t as proficiently as I am, he made me a really really large bear. I don’t mean like a big bear. We’re talking like behemoth bear, legendary bear. If I wasn’t going down in history as the best mage, I am certainly going to make it as a bear.\n\nCould I turn myself back? Maybe. Have I tried? No. I’m honestly just tired of the whole human race. Before you ask, yes I have retained my magical abilities. Is my magic limited? Honestly I don’t know or care. Fish and honey, it’s my bread and butter. Ha get it? No? Never mind. Do people still seek me out? They do... to kill the giant bear and have my death attributed to their name and bring them fame, glory, and riches. I’ve basically become a dragon without being a dragon, if you know what I’m saying.\n\nSorry sometimes I’m easily distracted. Getting back to what I was saying though... Fish and honey, man oh man. I can’t get them out of my head. Life is so much simpler now. Power is useless and meaningless. No, wait, it isn’t. I am powerful and it is very useful and meaningful. Maybe if I was the bear king of the land I could have people pay me tributes of fish and honey. That’s an idea. Meh, again though, people are dumb. I hate them. Then there would be political back biting and treachery... possible plots to overthrow me.\n\nNo. Aside from the random hero’s coming for my head... probably because of the princess. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that. The princess was in love with me and my rival hated it. He thought with me out of the way, he’d get to marry her. How wrong he was, she ran away with me. Which is probably why heroes and armies have been coming.\n\nThey don’t stand a chance, though. What with my flaming honey balls. It honestly doesn’t smell half bad. Smells almost like honey roast pork. Which could be good, except that would be cannibalism. Well it would be if I wasn’t a bear. I can’t really get past that though, it still feels like cannibalism. No. It’s the ruckus I can’t stand. They’re so loud when they’re dying. The honey tornados are better. At least they quietly suffocate in honey. I didn’t say it was a nice way to go. But like I said I can’t get honey and fish out of my head.\n\nI’m working on a place to live. I’ve already experimented with crystallized honey walls with fish scales on the outside. Mmmm, like a giant lolli on the inside! I love just running my tongue along the wall while I walk. The scales are extra protection and make the wall pretty. I’m gonna need some way to stay safe through the winter though. I’m not sure if I’m a hibernating bear or not. Best to be prepared just in case.\n\nLife is simpler as a bear, my needs are more simple, my wants are more simple. A woman to scratch my itches, honey, and fish. Who could ask for anything more? Stupid people. That’s who." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: Adrift in space, you've lost all power. Your shipmates have all succumb to the piercing cold that has slowly overtaken the ship, leaving you completely alone. Suddenly, out of the darkness, you hear a knock." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The journey from Atina to Yon is not especially perilous, but, for the peoples of the Two Moons, it is still considered customary and wise to make the proper offerings to the goddess Yotina, before setting out on any voyage. On the morning of a ship's departure from the Grand Marble Docks on Atina, the ship's captain or pilot must first go alone to the Floating Pillars, which have hung and spun in the light Atina air since before the first pilgrims of the Two Moons had ever met. He must ascend to Yotina's temple with the traditional gifts (lignite, seasonal spices, a wooden child's toy) and with the live dove for the augury. In the blood that spills from the bird's neck, in how each droplet floats away as if a tiny red moon, the priest will interpret the goddess' favor, blessing or condemning that particular crossing of the cold void between the Two Moons.\n\nHowever, once there was a young brother, with a sister he loved dearly and a father who was very cruel, who defied the will of Yotina, and crossed the space between the Two Moons with no license. For it had come to pass that the brother, who was born of the moon of Yon, had taken his modest ship to moon of Atina, in order to strike a bargain for some chalcedony he had recently acquired. The family had, in recent years, suffered some grave financial misfortune, and the brother had hoped that a profitable transaction could afford him some measure of independence, so that he could take his sister far away from their father. As the family's wealth had dwindled (due most of all to the father's drunkenness and impulsiveness) the old man had become more and more wicked. Often, he would return home from Taverns Row or the Sparkling Bazaar late at night, in a terrible fury. He would order the sister to stand between the hearth and altar to Yotina, and he would spit on her, and curse her, demanding that she be more faithful and dutiful to the goddess, and to him, so that his fortunes might at last improve. The small girl would cry and shake.\n\nWhen the father would become evil in this way, and before he could do worse, the brother would find a rock, and begin to knock it against the wall of their home. The father would then turn and scream for the brother to stop making such noise, losing his focus on the sister long enough that she could go and hide in the basement, behind the stacked crates and cartons of unsold wares. With this distraction, the brother could usually keep his sister from harm, but sometimes he would not succeed, and so he had risked a journey to Atina to find a more permanent solution. Were he able to strike a profitable bargain, he and his sister could then begin their own merchant's trade, free of their father forever.\n\nBut while the brother was still negotiating on Atina, he received a frantic message from his sister. In his absence, their father had concocted a new and wicked scheme: he intended to restrain her, and sell her to the Courtesan's Cruiser (which is forbidden to orbit either Atina or Yon, but may linger in the space beyond the pull of either moon). The brother immediately abandoned his commerce, and went straight to the priests on the Floating Pillars, seeking assent for his journey back to Yon. But when the priest inspected the blood flowing from the brother's chosen dove, he shook his head in dismay: Yotina, in her grandest wisdom, would not condone the brother's return that day.\n\nThe brother offered the priest more spices, and all the money he had earned from the sale of the calcedony, so that he would read the blood again, for such a decision surely could not be the will of the good and merciful Yotina. The augerer would not repeat a finished ritual, which is forbidden on the Floating Pillars. Still, the brother could not allow his sister to be lost. He took his ship into the sky, and then into the cold void between the Two Moons, without the goddess' favor, speeding as fast as he could back to Yon.\n\nNone can say if it was only poor luck, or the careless navigating of a desperate man, or indeed the work of the goddess, but when he had nearly reached Yon, he encountered a terrible meteor storm. The rocks battered him, and when his shields were worn out, they dug into the hull of his ship and stopped up his rusted thrusters. He soon found himself stranded, drifting off course. For many days, he shivered alone on his broken ship, until he had no water and very little air. As he waited for death, he lamented his failure to save his sister more than his own doom.\n\nBut suddenly, while his ship still had a little power, he felt a sudden knock against the hull. At first he suspected it was another meteor, but then the knocking began in too organized a pattern. The brother pulled himself to his feet and looked through the porthole. Indeed, there was another ship from the Two Moons, pushed right up against his own. Inside, someone was still alive, and they were calling to him. He pounced over to the controls and desperately willed his ruined, sputtering thrusters to help pivot the ship, until he could align his airlock with that of his fellow marooned travelers. With some skilled piloting, he finally heard the welcome click and hiss of the doors sealing together. The brother opened his hatch into the other ship, smiling with the hope that perhaps the two broken ships could combine their equipment in such a way as to fix at least one. But when he saw his fellow castaways, his grin turned sour: it was his very own father, wobbling about in a drunken blur, with his poor sister tied up in the corner.\n\nWhen the father saw it was his own son staring back at him from the other stranded ship, he began to laugh, mocking the boy for being just as pathetic a failure as he was, but then promising that if the boy could repair one of the ships, the father would gladly share the profits from the sale of his sister.\n\nEnraged at the sight of his sister writhing on the floor like a dying dove, the brother picked up a rock from one of his supply crates. He knocked it against the hull of the ship. The father told him to stop trying to be so intimidating. The brother stepped closer. He knocked the rock against the hull again and again. The father ordered the boy to stop menacing, to not judge him so harshly, to become a realist about the struggles of making a decent life on the Two Moons, and to get to work on the broken ships. The brother said nothing, and just came even closer, until he could smell the liquor on his father's breath. He raised the rock up, and banged it into his father's head, many times and as hard as he could, until red blood was pouring out, and the father collapsed.\n\nThe brother untied his sister and helped her to stand. He asked her if their ship had been damaged by meteors. She told him that their ship was perfectly in tact, and they had been marooned only because their father had been too drunk to remember to refuel it properly before departing Yon. The brother hugged her with incredible relief, for he knew his tanks had not been touched at all by the meteors. He could easily transfer the fuel, and they could leave their terrible ordeal and past and father behind, in the cold void between the Two Moons. And as he wiped away the tears from his sister's cheek, he thanked Yotina, goddess of the Two Moons, for refusing to bless his journey." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: \"So you're telling me that a single man defeated a full regiment of knights while wearing no armor and using only his bare hands? What sorcery is this!\" The messenger bowed low. \"Yes Milord, he did not call it sorcery. He called it 'martial arts.'\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Two days before the first assault of the Lord Ashem's castle the siege was finally set into place. Commander Prescott is overseeing the invasion of western Persia at the behest of his king. He brought with him five thousand men, of which there were one thousand knights and archers each, two thousand infantrymen, and one thousand for catapults and other various duties. He paid no mind to the non-soldiers since they were of no use to the upcoming battles.\n\n\"Phillip. Bring me the maps and intel of Lord Ashem's castle and men.\" \"Yes, Milord,\" Phillip replies scurrying out of the command tent. He returns a few moments later, arms full of papers. \"Here they are, sire. As you requested, the maps are these ones and the intel are theses,\" Phillip explains as he sets them into two different piles. Prescott begins to set the maps and intel out at different points on the table. \"Bahman!\" Prescott yells angrily, \"COME HERE!\" Bahman, who is a recently captured peasant from the area, cowards over, \"Y-yes, sir?\" \"The castle is supposed to be heavily defended. Why do my reports say there are only 500 soldiers within their walls?\" \"Well, a-as you are aware they are elite s-soldiers capable of killing armies many times their s-size.\" \"IMPOSSIBLE, my men are the best soldiers around. They can't possibly expect to beat me with so few men,\" Prescott scoffs. The conversation moves to strategy and planning for rest of the day. The men are preparing their weapons and gear for battle, hunting for food, and resting.\n\nMeanwhile, within the castle servants and advisors of Lord Ashem are panicking at the site of the invading force. They are preparing for the coming siege and planning rations of food and water for the people within. In contrast, Lord Ashem is quietly sitting on his throne... waiting.... and smiling as if he knows something they don't. His advisors are shushed as they constantly try to get his attention on what to do or for approval of preparations to be done. He is waiting. For what, they do not know.\n\nNot an hour goes by before a single man enters the throne room. Everyone falls silent as he approaches the Lord. Ashem stands with arms out to greet the man, \"Ramin. You have finally arrived. I'm glad you have received my letter.\" \"Yes. I have come as requested. What shall I do?\" replied Ramin. \"Always so formal. That's what I like about you,\" Ashem beckons him to follow him to the balcony, \"As you can see I'm a little bit of a problem outside my walls. Take care of that for me, would you? Name your price.\" \"You can't be serious. He is but one man.\" exclaims one of his advisors. \"Do Not Speak to me like that again. Guards take him out of my sight.\" \"No, no! I'm sorry milord. PLEASE FORGIVE ME!\" the advisor screams as he is dragged away by two guards. \"I apologize for my servant. It won't happen again,\" Lord Ashem says as he slightly bows his head. \"It is alright. I have come to expect this from those who don't know what I am capable of. As for my price, five thousand gold pieces and consider it done.\" Lord Ashem's smile fades and a stern look takes it place. \"A high price indeed but I expected nothing less. I shall have the gold ready for you when you leave.\" They both bow and Ramin leaves to his quarters.\n\nThe following morning the gates of the outer wall are lowered. Ramin walks towards the enemy army as the gates raise after him. He is wearing the robes of a Chinese monk with spiked iron gauntlets on his hands.\n\nAt the sound of the gates, an alarm is raised. The men wake up confused but ready for battle. A few of them notice it is but one man coming and quickly stop their putting their gear on, assuming it is a messenger of some kind.\n\nRamin walks calmly into the middle of the knight's camp stopping once he reaches the middle. He looks around, smiles, and quickly launches at the nearest group of men. Being almost completely unarmed and unarmored, they are killed by the twos and threes. It takes several long moments before the others realize what is happening and resume preparations. Some soldiers only take the time to grab their weapons, others their helmets also as they approach this lone attacker.\n\nRamin is landing killing blow after killing blow in a fashion never before seen by the knights. They don't know how to approach him, some attack head-on only to be swiftly beaten down, while others try to surround and attack at once doomed to the same fate as the others. Ramin is glancing blows off of his gauntlets while kicking and punching faster than they can react.\n\nThis continues on for thirty or so minutes before he is the only man left standing. Bloody, tired, and hungry he returns to the castle gates. They lower and rise as he enters." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: After saving the Captain of the Kingsguard’s life, he has sworn to always watch your back for you as he now owes you his life. What you did not expect was for him to watch your back regarding your budding romance with the prince." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Elias, I swear upon all that is righteous!” Sabeline whipped around, “Must you follow my every step?”\n\n“I owe you, it’s as simple as that,” the man stated, standing at full attention.\n\n“You know I can handle myself,” she gestured to the bow in her hands, which she held mastery over as one of the mythical rangers of Cetopia, “Why do you fret so for my safety?”\n\n“I worry not that you will keep yourself alive,” he assured, falling from his stiff stance, “I have no concern for your abilities in combat, however my honor does not allow me to move past what you’ve done for me until I have equally repaid you for your compassion.”\n\nSabeline shook her head, pulling the arrow from her Elven-made bow and replacing it in her quiver. To her, it had been no chief decision. She’d come across a man in the forest, bleeding to death and wearing the crest of Siton. So she’d brought him to the city.\n\nIn her eyes, the healers in the city were responsible for his living. If she hadn’t brought him to them, he wouldn’t have made it. But therein lies why it’s her he remains indebted to. If SHE hadn’t hauled him upon her horse and had the good sense to go to the city, he wouldn’t have made it. Therefore, he owed her his life.\n\n“So why have you sought me out today, then?” She questioned with a sigh, holstering her bow across her back. She gestured around them to the training grounds she was standing within. These were the grounds where the newest recruits of the army trained. ‘The Whelps Playground’ she’d heard it called. The Captain wasn’t here by coincidence, he had come looking.\n\nElias shook his head, “Am I not allowed to seek your presence? I had thought us friends by now.”\n\nSabeline chuckled, “Perhaps, but you could have done that come time for the feast tonight, it’s the middle of the day,” she pointed out, “You have other duties to attend, especially considering we feast in your honor come nightfall.” He held his hands in surrender, “Alright, you’ve caught me.”\n\n“So again I shall ask why you have come looking for me today when I have yet to so much as leave the walls of the city?” She questioned, glancing at the position of the sun. It had yet to even pass noon.\n\n“I bring news regarding Prince Arys,” he smirked. “Do you, now?” Her eyes held minute shock. “Yes,” he nodded, “It has come to my attention that one of the courtsmen’s daughters has requested the chance to court him.”\n\n“Is that so?” Her lips tightened into a thin line, and she pulled a throwing knife from the sheath strapped to her thigh, spinning it in the air. Her sudden hostility was not lost to him.\n\n“Yes,” he nodded. She hummed, turning to face the targets where she had been firing her arrows before, “I find it strange that the King would accept that request considering Arys is the spare.” She hurled her knife, hitting dead center.\n\n“It would seem more strategic to have him marry a princess from another kingdom rather than marry within the court,” she pulled another knife, this time from a sheath on his arm.\n\n“Yes,” Elias nodded, once again being impressed by her social intelligence for someone who had spent her life in such solitude as the rangers do, “Which is one of the reasons the King turned the offer down.”\n\n“One of?” She turned to look over her shoulder, her eyes burning with confusion though Elias could see the rage that was kindled alongside it.\n\nHe smiled, “Yes, it would seem that Prince Arys has told his father of his wishes to court another.”\n\n“Has he?” Her eyes returned to the target, her lips curling in such a manner that she surely looked like the foxes that roamed their forests, her ginger braid falling down her back, “Which noblewoman has caught his eye?”\n\n“That is actually the topic at hand,” Elias stepped closer to her, watching over her shoulder as she threw another of her daggers with a fierceness to her, “He did not state who she was to his father but he did say that she was not of noble blood or birth.”\n\nHe watched her tense in shock. Her eyes turned back to him, a softness in them having replaced the rigid anger, “I’m sorry?”\n\n“Yes, it would seem that the prince does mot care much for title and he told as much to his father,” Elias nodded, his smile growing, “From what he did say of the woman he loved, any onlooker could see how in love he was with her and his father was no exempt from that so he turned away the offer.”\n\nShe looked to the floor in shame. He tipped her eyes back to his own by placing a guiding hand to her chin, “He still loves you, Sabeline… I beg of you, for both of your sakes, go to him.”\n\nShe swallowed thickly, blinking back the tears blooming in her eyes once more. She silently ridiculed herself for her youthful ignorance all those years ago. She’d told herself he would never marry a ranger. Or that if he did, she’d be forced to give up the life she’d always known, the one she had come to thrive and find comfort within.\n\nShe’d been foolish in thinking that, now in hindsight she knew he would’ve never asked such a thing of her. He’d always encouraged her to be proud of who she was, not to cower in the sights of the stares she was given.\n\nIt wasn’t common for the rangers of Cetopia to induct women. By tradition, the village would send the eldest son from every family to serve as a ranger for their kingdom. Only the families without any sons would send their daughters. There had only been three of them in the thousand rangers inducted the year she joined.\n\nSo most would not expect for women to bear the crest of the Cetopians in their travels. She’d come to expect the stares. It didn’t make the few glares from those too shortsighted to see the capabilities of women hurt any less.\n\n“You have grown far too good at reading me, Elias,” her lip quivered as her voice wavered, “That is my job.”\n\n“You may be a ranger of the southern villages but I am Captain of the Kingsguard,” he smiled, “I am also trained in the art of observation.”\n\n“Now,” he took her hands, “Tonight, we feast in honor of my life having been saved by a stranger,” he patted his side, where she knew bandages covered his still healing skin beneath the tunic, “But you have many hours yet to celebrate your future with the one you love… go to him.”\n\nElias couldn’t help his laughter, filled with joy and mirth, as he watched her slight form billow past him. He watched her braid swinging back and forth, an orange pendulum against the forest green of her clothing and he shook his head, smile still spread across his face, “Ranger of Cetopia, Savior of the Captain, future Princess of Siton,” he cackled, “Spirits help us all.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Aliens make first contact, landing on Earth, surrounded by cheering crowds, but as they step up to the pedestal to speak... or otherwise communicate with the world, they inform us that something we do all the time, is in violation of galactic law and we should stop it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Everyone remembers where they were on the sunny afternoon in May. The President addressed the nation and the entire world. He told a massive alien spacecraft had been spotted heading towards Earth several weeks earlier. By the middle of May, it was in Earth orbit. A few days later a small shuttle launches from the mother ship and made its way to the White House. Of course, every nation on Earth argued about who should be the first to meet the aliens face to face. The US made the argument that there was no way to know if they were formerly or hostile and they were willing to take the risk. There were some back room deals that followed and everyone, more or less, agreed. There were a dozen foreign secretaries standing right beside the President - Russia, China, Germany, and so on - as the small shuttle settled quietly on the lush green grass.\n\nThe small figure hobbled down the ramp, his light purple skin glinting softly in the bright sunlight. He wore some kind of mask that didn't quite cover his face. The long mane of golden hair trailer down his back. The Secret Service agents tried not to look nervous. The Surgeon General had warned that we don't know what kind of diseases would come with this thing. The President said the leader of the free world couldn't be seen cowering behind his desk because he was afraid of a space cold.\n\nAs the alien approached the podium, the word held its breath. The diplomatic corps had worked out the process for this meeting. Neither the humans or the aliens wanted any accidents on the first date. So the alien approached and both sides bowed slightly. The President made a few remarks welcoming the aliens to Earth and how he hoped this was the first day of a long and fruitful relationship blah blah blah. It didn't matter what he said as every media outlet on Earth was carrying it live.\n\nFinally, the alien took its turn to speak. The first alien to speak on Earth. Arguably the most important event in human history ever. Life would never be the same. The alien had a small box with several lights on top of it. He set the box on the podium and the lights began blinking. The Secret Service was on edge.\n\n\"People of Earth,\" the voice from the box said into the microphones, \"greetings from the Galactic Congress. Long have we watched your people and waited for you to join us.\" The crowd murmured appreciatively at this.\n\n\"However, before that wonderful day, your people must be ready to take their place among the stars. I have been sent here as an emissary to aid your transition. I must first inform you that your species is a lawbreaker of the first order.\n\n\"In all civilized societies, speaking is outlawed. Verbal communication is primitive and error prone. It leads to confusion and mistakes - inefficiencies and even hatred. It has been banned by the Galactic Congress for dozen of cycles. You must stop talking before you can join your elders.\"\n\nThe assembled dignitaries stared at the little purple alien. They were practiced diplomats so very little showed on their face. The commentators on TV were stunned into silence. The Internet was caught off guard and didn't immediately react.\n\nThe President stepped over next to the alien. \"Perhaps we should continue this inside?\"\n\n\"No thank you, that will not be necessary. We - my team and I - will begin teaching you telepathic communication. Any who cannot master this more elegant form of communication will not be considered full members of society. They will be barred from voting, holding public office, owning property, and a few other benefits. They will still be protected much as children or pets are.\n\n\"The techniques we shall teach you will allow you to see the pure meaning of what someone means without resorting to the barbarous form of verbal communication. Miscommunication is all but unknown in the Galactic Congress. When you can see the heart of another, you cannot help but empathize. Wars will become rare then extinct.\"\n\nThe shuttle returned to the mother ship. The emissary had been rejected so soundly and so unanimously by every government on Earth that the Galactic Congress banned all further missions to the entire star system. A population of mind readers was a waking nightmare for everyone in power." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1400-1500 words. Prompt: Your life is a wreck. You somehow manage to travel back 10 years in time to start over. But things just feel... Wrong. Something is very off." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There it was about twenty feet in front of Lawrence. For the first time in years, everything was going right. Lawrence had emptied his savings to pay off the guards at Los Alamos National Lab. He didn't even question why they were so willing to take his thousand dollars. Lawerence was stretched to the limits of his desperation and needed everything to work.\n\nThe past ten years had been stressful, to put it mildly, for Lawerence. Everything had been slowly falling apart since his parents died. He hadn't realized how much they had impacted his life until his fiancee called off the wedding and left him with massive debt. He managed to take care of the creditors, but his savings was drained. The University of California fired him after he received poor reviews from his students. The events were spread over the past decade, but the depression slowly ate him away.\n\nSix months ago, everything changed. He held a razor in one hand while he sat on his toilet. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the number out of habit. Jack. Jack always called at inconvenient times. He pressed the red button and set the phone on the bath tub wall. He took a deep breath summoning the courage to make the first cut. The phone started buzzing again. He glanced again. Jack. He pressed the red button and flipped the phone over. The phone rang again. He picked it up and answered.\n\n\"What do you want Jack?\"\n\n\"Lawman,\" Lawrence hated the nickname but never could get Jack to drop it. \"They did it! They sent it back, and it worked,\" Jack exclaimed into the phone.\n\n\"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"I can't talk about it over the phone. It's all hush-hush. Come in so I can talk about it.\"\n\nLawrence looked at the razor in his other hand, \"I kinda had other plans.\"\n\n\"Trust me, it'll be worth it,\" Jack insisted.\n\nLawrence sighed audibly and agreed to go in. Jack called him twice while Lawrence was driving as Jack's excitement continued to grow. They met in Jack's office, where Jack showed him the results of the time travel prototype. The Los Alamos National Lab had sent a radio back in time. As Jack explained the theory and how it worked, Lawrence saw a way out. He'd go back and fix his life.\n\nSix months later, he was crouched behind some equipment racks looking at the time travel prototype. The device was smaller than he expected. They made some improvements, he thought. According to Jack, they run the same test every night in two minutes. He watched the scientists intently as he bid his time. As expected, they turned the device on. A small portal opened and gradually grew.\n\nLawrence didn't delay. He launched himself toward the portal covering the gap in a couple seconds. As he ran, he thought maybe he had gained a glimpse of Jack smiling. He pushed the thought out of his mind as he forced himself into the portal. When Lawrence hit a wall with a thud, he realized that the portal was more like a pool of water than a pool of jello.\n\nLawrence checked his limbs before standing up. He glanced around as he stood up to see a large empty room. He thought to himself, I guess the lab hasn't begun work in here, yet. He oriented himself and started making his way out of the lab. After making a few turns, he bumped into a security guard who was making rounds.\n\nLawrence cursed at himself as the guard looked him over suspiciously. Then the guard smiled, \"Professor Lawrence, wasn't expecting to see you here. Late night to be at the labs?\"\n\nLawrence looked at him with hesitation. \"Yeah. Just finished up. I'm on my way home.\"\n\n\"Have a good night,\" the guard sidestepped past him.\n\nLawrence continued walking and tried to remember if he ever visited the lab ten years ago. The building hadn't changed much since he was here ten years from now, he thought. Lawrence snickered to himself at the absurdity of that statement. He started thinking about all the changes he would make based on the knowledge he know had.\n\nHe got to the front doors and pushed. They didn't open. He tried pulling, and they swung freely. He walked through the doors and tried to reconcile his memory where the doors had to be pulled when he arrived. He knew memory can be a fickle thing, so he shrugged it off.\n\nHe started walking to the front gate when he noticed someone waving at him from across the parking lot. He tried to ignore the figure and walked with his head down.\n\n\"Professor,\" the figure called to him. He knew that voice. Why did he know that voice, he asked himself. He turned to acknowledge the voice.\n\n\"Professor Lawrence, what are you doing here, \" she asked.\n\nThe voice suddenly clicked. Lawrence's fiancee, Juliet. He hadn't heard her voice in seven years. His eyes felt the emotion building. He wanted to hug her, but cautioned himself, \"I had a late night.\"\n\n\"You look like it, \" she said while looking toward the sky with hesitation. \"We best be getting inside.\"\n\nLawrence tried to come up with an excuse to stay out of her hair when he noticed a group of stars shining brighter than he remembered. The stars looked like they were moving. He felt Juliet grab his arm to usher him toward the closest building. \"Juliet, what's going, \" he started to ask.\n\n\"Juliet, you never call... \" Juliet looked at him with a sudden realization. \"Professor, I'll explain everything inside.\" She pulled him ten feet up the sidewalk to a building marked Flag Offices.\n\nShe pushed open the door and followed him inside. \"You're here. Let me look at you. Oh, you made it, \" she rambled.\n\n\"What are you talking about?\"\n\n\"They came when the lab opened the first dimensional rip.\"\n\n\"You're going to have to back up, Juliet.\"\n\n\"Okay, for starters, stop calling me Juliet. It's Doctor North. I know this is a lot to take in, but you aren't where you think you are.\" As if on cue, the air outside filled with a dark orange mist. \"What did Jack tell you?\"\n\n\"He said it was a time portal. The labs could send things back ten years. Wait. How did you know Jack tol...\"\n\n\"Oh, so he lied to you,\" she cut him off. \"That's how he got you to jump. You did travel ten years back, but this is not in your timeline. You are in a parallel timeline. They sent a radio six months ago. Every week we can talk with Jack to get a status update. He established contact with three other timelines. Every day they talk to one of the lines to get a status update. According to Jack, we are the only line that had that side effect.\" She pointed to the air outside. \"It doesn't come through vents or open windows. If anyone is outside, though...\" Her voice trailed off. \"We lost so many people that first night.\" She shook off the emotion. \"It's all about survival, now.\"\n\nLawrence walked toward the glass doors. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"We don't know, yet. We have some theories, but so far nothing.\"\n\nLawrence turned to face Juliet. \"Earlier, you made it sound like Jack wanted me here. Why?\"\n\n\"He did. He made sure the guards let you through. He helped you choose the right day. Think about it why you chose today? Wasn't it because the guards suggested it. You are here because Jack trusts you,\" she tried reassuring him.\n\n\"Trusts me? Trusts me to do what? This is outside of anything I've ever thought possible. I wouldn't believe it if I wasn't seeing it right now,\" Lawrence remarked incredulously.\n\n\"Well, there's a couple people you need to meet, like our Professor Lawrence and our Jack. Why don't you come with me and I'll introduce you,\" Juliet beckoned him down the entrance hall.\n\nHe turned to face the orange mist again so he could process everything before continuing down the hall where his only option lied. He wondered how different this timeline was. Were his parents still alive? What about the friends he had back then? Would they even be willing to share friendships with him and their him? Lawrence sighed to himself, he wanted a fresh start and wondered if he bit off more than he could handle.\n\n\"Lawman!\" He didn't turn right away to greet Jack, but let a small smile creep on his face as he heard the familiar nickname. Not everything is different after all." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Write a story from the antagonists point of view, but frame it so we believe it's the protagonist until the end" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was tired.\n\nIt had been quiet at work, almost boring. Any other person might find pouring through numbers and cataloging inventory as boring, but for him it was soothing. Numbers don’t lie, and goods don’t walk away. It was normal for people though, something he always had to be on the lookout for. Today, nothing unusual happened, something that WAS unusual. He nearly considered leaving early, but the productive day gave him a feeling that stopping would be a waste. He had called his wife, told her that he would be working late because a shipment had been processed incorrectly and he had stay to sort it out.\n\nShortly after, he felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t had a proper evening with his wife in nearly a month. His work often meant he had to stay up late or wake up exceedingly early for shipments. In fact, the past four days he had returned home past midnight and woken up three hours later to return to work. While she was very understanding it was only a matter of time before she walked out on him. He decided he would leave early and surprise her, buy her a gift and go to a nice restaurant.\n\nCleaning up and storing away the accounts as normal was swift. As he was leaving, he paused briefly by the break room, informing the men lounging inside that he was taking the rest of the evening alone. As he pushed through the warehouse door, he shivered unconsciously. It was cold, the fading rays of the sun barely visible over the silhouettes of old warehouses. He walked swiftly, partially due to the cold and that his car was parked nearly fifteen minutes away. A number of routes in the district were narrow and littered with debris, roads in name but alleyways in reality. He didn’t like the hassle of squeezing his car among others and instead opted to park a distance away in a much more accessible lot.\n\nHe quickened his pace, it was dreadfully cold and the sooner he reached his car, the sooner he would be warm. The lighting was poor; half of the lights were broken or simply dead. As he approached a particularly dark alley, he pulled out his flashlight. His car was just beyond the alleyway, but often he would find bums hanging around. He had a concealed pistol but he rarely drew it, there was little to be afraid of. As he turned the corner and before he turned his light, he collided with something. The flashlight flew out of his hand, and whatever it hit made a crunching sound.\n\nHe reached out with his hands to touch what he had hit, it was metal, cold. The sound of doors opening and the heavy pound of boots on asphalt echoed before the thought of running crossed his mind. He turned to run, but he tripped on his own feet and feel on the cold ground, scraping his elbow. Before he could make sense of what had happened, he was pushed into the ground, hands pulling his arms back behind him. His glasses scraped on the ground, the lens scratched. It was amusing almost, that his ruined plans and glasses annoyed him more than the metal cuffs.\n\nHis glasses were knocked askew but remarkably stayed on as he was roughly pushed into the back of a truck. He sat down on the narrow bench, using the side of the truck to push his glasses back into place. A man stood outside of the truck, watching his attempts.\n\n“You’re done.”\n\nHis glasses back in place, he turned and smiled at the young man glaring with fiery eyes.\n\n“Am I now?”\n\nIt was amusing really; he had seen many men try and fail. Only one man had come close when he was younger, less experienced, and that man was now ashes.\n\n“You ARE done, and I have the evidence to make sure you rot in a cell.”\n\nThe young man removed his glove, revealing a heavily scarred hand.\n\n“A reminder of that fire 15 years ago. My dad probably could have gotten out too if I hadn’t been so stupid. But I’ll make sure his work wasn’t for nothing. You WILL pay for your crimes, and you WILL live the rest of your life in a cell.”\n\nThe man leaned back. The young child had finally grown into a man.\n\n“May I ask for a favor?”\n\nThe young man frowned, not replying.\n\n“Can you please buy my wife a box of chocolate covered almonds? They’re her favorite.”\n\nWithout even waiting for the reply, he closed his eyes and turned away, the smile never fading." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: In the middle of a ruined city devoid of life there exists a single pristine house with a perfect white picket fence and verdant lawn. Before its white painted, front door is a clean mat that reads in hot pink letters a single word: help." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Are you coming?” Mac asked holding the gate open wide enough for one person to slip through at a time. “If so, we've got to go now. If they find us we'll be in a world of shit.”\n\n“Yeah of course” Nate replied squeezing through. Lena followed behind. “Besides we've already paid you.” He shot a look at Brody, who stood there deliberating.\n\n“Non refundable I'm afraid” Mac told Brody, before following behind Lena.\n\nBrody cursed under his breath. He could not believe that he had allowed them into talking him into coming this far. The city was off limits for a reason. A big, fuck-off fence, patrolled by machine-gun carrying guards surrounded it. What they were proposing, sneaking in “for a peek”, was idiotic, possibly suicidal. In the distance, he could hear the sound of jeeps approaching. Mac was right though, you did not want to be caught. Reluctantly Brody hurried after his friends, and Mac.\n\nNon of them knew what to expect when they entered the city. It had been quarantined off for over a decade. People had different accounts on what happened. Facts, speculations and conspiracy theories all seemed to merge together over the years, causing multiple, conflicting accounts. All they knew was that there had been a mass exodus, not everyone made it out. A memorial stood to them outside the gates, but their bodies remained amongst the rubble. What buildings still stood were left to decay in disrepair. What plants were able to thrive amongst the dust claimed what they pleased. Mac had been patrolling the walls for several months, and had peered in from atop of the fence, but despite what he had told the others he had never been inside before. No one had. No one entered and no one left.\n\n“Welcome to Quarantine City boys and girls” Mac grinned. He hoped they did not not hear his voice catching. He had not expected it to be so quiet, it unnerved him. High above birds sang, but down on the ground, the silence seemed suffocating.\n\n“Not too shabby” Lena replied. “Add a pool and room-service and you've got yourself a five-star accommodation here.” Although she joked, Nate and Brody could sense Lena's nervousness. They felt the same thing. Even Nate who had planned the excursion. At the time it seemed like a good idea. Then again most things seem like a good idea after several drinks.\n\n“Where too first M'lady?” Nate asked, shoving his doubts to the back of his mind.\n\n“Umm... not sure” Lena looked around at the crumbling buildings. There could have been anything inside them; a thought that excited and frightened her. She glanced at their smashed windows, and rotting doorways, they seemed to gape at her like gutted corpses. A shiver rippled down her.\n\n“What would you suggest Sir?” Nate asked Mac, who was looking increasingly less at ease. His eyes darted round as he tightly clutched his gun. Nate suddenly felt aware of how unprepared the rest of them were. Mac had been a couple of years ahead of them at school, but he was aware of his reputation as a 'black sheep'.\n\n“I think we should head onwards” Mac tried to sound breezy. He glanced back, praying they had not been spotted. “Keep low”.\n\n“Can you smell something?” Lena asked, stopping still. They had been walking for several hours, taking in the familiar yet alien sights.\n\n“Smells like shit” Brody said. He was loosening up, although he was still not happy to be there.\n\n“Yeah that. But something else, honeysuckle I think” Lena sniffed. “That way!” Lena pointed, hurrying forwards. The boys followed.\n\n“What the...” Lena faltered as she rounded the corner.\n\n“What is it?” Nate asked, standing beside her. “Oh.”\n\nIn amongst dilapidated skyscrapers was a house in perfect tact. It was dazzling white, as if it had recently been glossed over. Its shutters were closed and honeysuckle grew tidily up along the veranda. Its verdant lawn was neatly manicured. Where all the other buildings were cold, lifeless, the little house seemed alive.\n\n“What is this place?” Brody asked.\n\n“I don't know” Mac replied.\n\n“It looks like someone lives there” said Lena. “How's that possible?”\n\n“Its not” Mac's grew agitated. “It's just durable paint that's all.”\n\n“And a self-mowing lawn” Nate added sarcastically.\n\n“Should we go in?” Lena asked.\n\n“No fucking way” Brody was quick to answer.\n\n“Maybe” Nate contemplated.\n\n“No fucking way” Brody repeated.\n\n“Fucks sake. Fucking pussies” Mac snapped pushing open the gate and stomping up the path. He stopped short outside the door, inspecting something on the ground.\n\n“I don't like the look of that” Mac muttered under, as Lena and Nate approached behind him. Brody had remained behind. Laying just in front of the freshly varnished door was a welcome mat. Painted sloppily on it in hot-pink was the single word HeLP.\n\n“What does it mean?” Lena asked.\n\n“Means we should get the fuck out” Mac replied, slowly backing away.\n\n“But if someone's in trouble shouldn't we help?” Lena asked, although she could feel her stomach lurching inside.\n\n“What if we're the ones in trouble?” Mac continued stepping away.\n\n“Coward!”\n\n“Alright lets keep calm” interjected Nate, desperately to keep the peace. “How about if we just knock? If there's no answer then we just walk away.” Lena nodded her head. Mac stood still.\n\n“Okay then, good” Nate said, psyching himself up. “I'm going to knock then.” Hesitantly Nate rapped on the door.\n\nThere was a moment of silence as everyone held their breath, even Brody who was not sure what was happening. When there was no answer everyone let out a sigh of relief. Nate turned to go. That's when they heard the click and the door swung inwards." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: A 7 day Weather forecast from someone who knows they are in a story and is predicting both the plot and each day's symbolic weather." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Day 1\n\n“We’ll head over to Jim for the day’s weather. Tell us how it’s looking out there, Jim.”\n\n“Right, Jerri. The day should be sunny just like the farm boy at the start of his hero’s journey, but there won’t be much of a breeze, so it’s shaping up to be a warm one. A beautiful day by all accounts, but not perfect. If it was perfect, why would they leave home?”\n\n“Uh, right you are, Jim. It is shaping up to be a warm day. A perfect day to hit the beach, perhaps! Or enjoy a nice cold one in your backyard from one of our sponsors, Puppers-“\n\n“It’s a little too early to tell, Jerri. I’d advise not going outside quite yet. The weather could change on a dime depending on how the author’s feeling.”\n\n“The author, Jim?”\n\n“Yes. Still much too early to say. I’d say stay inside for another day or two, just to be sure.”\n\n“Riiight. Well, you heard it hear folks! Lets head back to our field correspondent-“ The camera refocused, but not quite fast enough to miss the dirty look Jerri sent Jim.\n\nJim shrugged. What else could he say? It was still too early to say where this story was going or what kind it would be, that was true enough.\n\nAnd wasn’t it their job to report the facts as they were?\n\nDay 2\n\n“It is a bit cloudy out there today, best bring an umbrella.”\n\n“This stormfront sure came it fast. Well, thank you-“ Jerri tried to grab the cameraman’s attention again, but Jim was a step quicker.\n\n“Of course, it probably won’t actually rain today. Not yet, but perhaps tomorrow. Actually, I’d expect it to rain for a few days going forward. Maybe two, three as a safe estimate.”\n\n“Boy, the meteorological data we can collect today sure is amazing. You heard it hear-“\n\n“Clouds on the verge of rain but never quite reaching that state, I believe it means uncertainty. Whoever this story is about is unsure of the next step they need to take, or perhaps even the author is unsure of what to do. So, not even they know what might happen next. I think we’re off to a good start, though.”\n\n“A good start?”\n\n“Yeah, no natural disasters have occurred yet. That’s great, means it’s probably safe to go outside but be mindful of the rain.”\n\nDay 3\n\n“It’s pouring folks, raining cats and dogs. Make sure to bring an umbrella and keep an eye out for flooding alerts.”\n\n“The flooding will begin tomorrow.” The camera moved to Jim as he spoke, his voice like a prophet announcing the end of days. “Things aren’t going well, it seems. I had expected a trickle today, but this is a downpour. It’s progressing fast…and it will get worse. This can’t be the darkest moment yet, it’s too soon.”\n\n“Jim, we need to discuss your recent behavior.“\n\nDay 4\n\n“The rains getting worse. Flood advisories are in effect for-“\n\n“It isn’t there yet. Tomorrow? Yes, tomorrow. If we’re lucky.”\n\nDay 5\n\n“The mayor has issued a warning for all citizens to find higher ground while the rain persists. Currently-“\n\n“Was I wrong?”\n\n“What?”\n\n“Is this a disaster story? Is that will happen? The oceans will swell and consume our city, driving us down into the depths for our hubris. To think we could build against the inevitable tide, to believe we could resist nature’s strength.”\n\n“Jim, get a hold of yourself!”\n\nDay 6\n\n“Mayor Busey issued a statement today for all citizens to remain calm. Evacuations are proceeding according- Jim? What are you doing here? You aren't...”\n\n“The author has decreed our doom, they have found nothing worth saving in our miserable little world of ink and paper. We will be forgotten.”\n\n“Someone call security. Hey, where’s-“\n\n“Look to the sky and see! This is the end. We may flee up or Babel towers to spit in the face of God, but the water will claim us. We will be consumed by the endless rain, and there shall be nothing left in the cleansing flood.”\n\n“Security! Get in here!”\n\n“Abandon your hope and turn your heads to the sky! Curse them! Curse those who would strike us down!”\n\nDay 7\n\n“We have something a bit unusual today for you. Jim’s back in the studio to say something now that the rain appears to be letting up. Jim?”\n\n“Yes…perhaps I was a bit hasty in jumping to conclusions. I apologize for the panic I caused. It’s looking like the storm will clear up in a few days, and our story will continue for a bit longer. Yes, I think right until-“\n\n(Thanks for reading! C&C always welcome!)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: It's 1864, you are a young native American on a hunt for big game. You go into a forest and when you come out instead of seeing grass plain you're in the middle of a city, a 2018 city. The forest's no longer behind you, instead you have roads and buildings." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Te'Tuo crept over a wide pile of twigs and branches, careful not to disturb the peaceful silence that currently enveloped the wooded glen. The young man was an expert hunter and he was actively tracking a very dangerous trophy. Te'Tuo wiped his brow, moisture had begun to build on his forehead.\n\nThe forest air was thick and humid. Massive trees surrounded him, their powerful roots digging dozens of feet into the ground. Te'Tuo had covered himself in a brown mud, camouflaging his own scent and golden skin color. He carried a bow that had been fashioned by the women of his tribe. The string had been plucked from his own horse and was stronger than any he had used before. The curved bow felt unmatched in his hands, carved from the heart of an ancient redwood tree. Over his shoulder, he also carried ten feet of rope. This would allow him to lasso his prey if he needed to.\n\nTe'Tuo stopped at the top of a hill. From here, he could see for a few hundred yards. In the distance, no further than one-hundred yards, Te'Tuo saw something he had never seen before. A deer stood there, but it was different than others he had seen. This one was easily two times the size of any other of its kind and gave off a bright yellow aura. He had never seen an animal as majestic as this one. It grazed on mushrooms and grass, unaware of its surroundings. Te'Tuo nocked an arrow, but then thought better of the situation. He could make the shot with ease, but this occasion demanded more finesse. This creature deserved his respect. He would not do it a disservice by shooting it from such a far distance.\n\nThe young man moved like the wind, crouching and hiding between trees at every opportunity. He soon found himself within a few yards of the godly creature. It continued to eat away at the grass beneath it. Was this some kind of test? Were the gods waiting to see what he would do? Could this be one of the gods, only tricking him in this form?\n\nTe'Tuo decided to find out for himself. He moved a few feet closer, careful to remain silent. His bare feet sunk into the soft ground as he quietly removed the rope from his muscled shoulder. The shining creature remained still, unaware of his stealthy approach. Te'Tuo lifted the rope above his head and threw it perfectly. It wrapped around the deer's neck as he pulled it taught. With blinding speed, Te'Tuo pulled a small knife from the belt on his waist and plunged it into the creature.\n\nIt went right through, as if the deer was made out of the air itself.\n\nTe'Tuo pulled his hand back, completely shocked. The godly deer stared at the young man for a moment and then began to run with blazing speed. Te'Tuo stood there, dazed. Only then did he realize that the rope was still around the creature's neck and, looking down, around his hand as well. With a violent jerk, he flew through the air before coming down hard. He was dragged behind the deer, each passing twig cutting into his skin. He was pulled for over a mile until the edge of the forest came into view. It was marked by a thick row of trees. There would be nothing but grassland on the other side. Nothing to stop the deer's singular stampede.\n\nTe'Tuo let out a battle cry and tried to unwrap the rope from his wrist. It was of little use.\n\nThe treeline approached quickly and the shining creature leaped ten feet into the air and through them. In midair, Te'Tuo witnessed the deer disappear into the air itself and found himself floundering through the air before landing on a hard black surface. It cut even deeper into his skin. He was covered from head-to-toe in blood and thick mud.\n\nHe lifted his head, wincing at the new pains he now felt. What he saw around him shocked him to his very core.\n\nMassive tree-like objects made of a shiny materials stretched towards the sky. He lay on a dark surface that smelled like burnt animal carcasses. Moving crafts occupied that surface, made from the same material as the tall \"trees.\" People with pale, black, and brown skin walked the areas close to him. Each of them pointed at him and they looked...afraid.\n\nTe'Tuo jumped to his feet and nocked an arrow. Fear and panic washed over him as he looked for a place to escape. He turned, but no longer saw the forest's edge. What was this place?\n\nThe people around him screamed and ran in every direction. He stood there, bow and arrow swinging in every direction, trying to pick out a potential danger. Frightened, Te'Tuo dropped his weapon and ran in the direction he had come. A few yards later, a force crashed into him, causing his skin to rip open in new places against the hard ground. A man, wearing a deep blue cloth, sat on top of him.\n\n\"Calm down, son,\" the large man said. Te'Tuo could not understand the language of these people.\n\nThe man placed a knee on Te'Tuo's chest and pressed hard. He spoke into an object on his shoulder. He looked to be frightened of Te'Tuo.\n\nTe'Tuo fought against the man, but to no avail. He was trapped.\n\nHe had the sinking feeling that he would not make it back to his tribe anytime soon...." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: A person with multiple personality disorder falls into a coma. Inside their mind, the personalities fight for sole control for when they wake up" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In an arena on the Southwest side of the Pre-frontal Cortex, three challengers stood ready to face off. The neurons had all decided to take a vacation from their jobs and sit in the audience. This massive lack of mental employment for the day meant that eighteen-year-old Stanley fell into a coma. A coma that would decide the fate of his multiple personalities.\n\nThe announcer riled up the crowd before beginning to introduce the battle.\n\n\"In this battle to end all battles, only one personality will prevail. The most important rule - there are no rules. Any special abilities may be used, and you can punch and kick and scratch whatever the hell you want.\"\n\nAxons were shaking across the crowd as the humanoid representations of the different personalities stood ready to be introduced.\n\n\"In the first corner, we have Athletic Stanley. He has the physical advantage of the group, and he wants to someday be a professional football star.\n\nIn this corner, we have Cool Stanley. He can get girls, he can sell anything he wants to, and he wants to go into politics.\n\nAnd finally, in this corner, we have Evil Stanley. He hates everybody, once hit a small child in the face, and is the definite dark horse in this fight for more reasons than one. In his future, he... also wants to go into politics.\n\n3... 2... 1... GO!\"\n\nAthletic Stanley as an individual had a clear advantage as he sprinted into the middle of the arena with several throwing knives in hand. But this had been anticipated. Cool Stanley had already used his skills of persuasion to broker an alliance with Evil Stanley.\n\nWhile Cool Stanley stood back to plan the next strategy, Evil Stanley was already putting the first plan into action. He had an innocent neuron in front of him. He was holding the neuron as a shield. He knew Athletic Stanley wouldn't hurt him.\n\nThe plan worked. Frustrated, Athletic Stanley instead targeted Cool Stanley from far away and charged him. He began to throw knives at Cool Stanley as he ran.\n\nCool Stanley smoothly dodged the knives and walked up to Athletic Stanley calmly.\n\n\"Let's timeout for a second, shall we? And discuss this?\"\n\n\"Oh, no you don't. You'll just trick me.\"\n\n\"But listen - I'm a reasonable guy. If I take control of Stanley, I'm too lazy to take it all for myself. I'll construct a system where we take turns. Won't that be fair?\n\nAthletic Stanley started to be convinced.\n\n\"Yeah, I guess that seems reasonable.\"\n\nEvil Stanley, despite his alliance, took this as the moment to betray Cool Stanley and assert his own dominance.\n\n\"Don't believe him, Athletic Stanley! He's tricking you!\"\n\nAthletic Stanley came to his senses and tried to punch Cool Stanley in the stomach. Cool Stanley instead slid under his legs and made a run for it to the other side of the arena.\n\nThat's when someone new walked into the arena. All three of the personalities were in shock.\n\n\"Oh God.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"It can't be.\"\n\nThe announcer realized who it was.\n\n\"That's right, folks, entering the arena as a late contestant is... Awkward Stanley!\"\n\nDressed in an elegant Count Dooku costume made for twelve-year-olds (complete with poorly made plastic mask) Awkward Stanley stepped into the arena.\n\nHe first faced Athletic Stanley.\n\n\"Remember that time when you were about to make that touchdown, and I took over? Remember how I threw the football on the ground and cheered for myself? Remember the look that your coach gave you?\"\n\nAthletic Stanley cringed so hard he could no longer stand.\n\n\"Evil Stanley, remember that time that when you got everyone in class to tell the teacher the homework wasn't due yet, and I took over? And I told the teacher? And suggested to her than I receive a reward for my honesty? And got the class to vote on my reward?\"\n\nEvil Stanley cringed so hard he threw up.\n\n\"Oh, and Cool Stanley. You're my favorite. Remember that time when you were talking to your crush, and I took over? Remember how I asked her whether she was into Star Wars roleplay in the bedroom? Remember how I started informing her of statistics relating to female masturbation?\"\n\nCool Stanley cringed so hard his face turned inside out.\n\nWith his opponents defeated, the announcer declared \"V-V-VICTORY!\" for Awkward Stanley.\n\nWhen Stanley woke up from his coma, his family was thrilled to see that he was okay. Meanwhile, he seemed less excited.\n\n\"I'm happy we're all happy for me, but before we celebrate, I really need to post some deep philosophical thoughts on Facebook targeted at people I'm mad at.\"\n\nAwkward Stanley ruled the day." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: A teenage girl with magical powers is chosen to save the world. She’s not into that though, she’s already got everything she wants including full control of her powers and a loving and super gorgeous boyfriend. Thing is, her lover is the demon lord she’s supposedly destined to defeat." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Like Totally\n\nBy Wynn Poe\n\nThe knock came right after dinner, at the respectable hour of 6:33PM.\n\nLaura Lexington answered the door, annoyed that they had to put the movie on pause. She was not expecting a package and she didn’t think anyone would visit. Then again, Karrie Sue was very popular, she had been getting a lot of visitors lately.\n\nThe old man at the door was wearing a long, grey robe. He introduced himself as Earl of Graymont. “I have a mission—message for your daughter—very important. Yes.”\n\nLaura rolled her eyes. “Morgan, it’s another visitor.”\n\n“Is he a wizard, too? She has school in the morning, so no adventures tonight,” Morgan said. She joined her wife at the door.\n\n“I am going to need to see some ID,” Morgan said.\n\n“Who are you?” the old man asked, his voice like a thousand whispering bees.\n\n“Passport. ID. Government wizard license… whatever.”\n\nLaura laughed. “You’re like… the third person to knock on the door tonight. Karrie Sue is kind of busy right now. Her boyfriend is over, and we are giving them privacy.”\n\nThe Earl paused for a moment. “You let two teenagers hang out alone?”\n\n“ID please?” Morgan snapped.\n\nThe Earl reached into his deep pocket and pulled out a Captain America wallet. “Will this do?” he asked, thunder rumbling behind him.\n\n“Earl… Earl Graymont…” Morgan said, looking at him. “Checks out.”\n\nMorgan and Laura backed away from the door, letting the old man in. They welcomed him into their beautiful living room. They picked the six cats off the back of the chairs, put the matching bull dogs in the backyard, and threw a blanket over the magic parrot.\n\nWith a click of a button, the TV went dark.\n\nEarl’s beard billowing like smoke down his chest. He smelled like gas station hot dogs and car air freshener.\n\nLaura took the lead. Adjusting her plaid shirt, she spoke to Earl with the patience of a woman who raised a magical toddler. “So, you are here to tell us something super important about Karrie Sue?”\n\n“She is prophesized…” Earl began.\n\nMorgan sighed deeply. Running a hand through her faux hawk, she clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Look, Earl, if you are going to tell us that our daughter has magic powers, is gonna save the world, and has a demon boyfriend—we already know. And it’s getting old.”\n\nEarl blinked.\n\nLaura nodded. “We have had people coming up to us since she was little. We took the advice of Old Crone Elizabeth and enrolled her in a magical school at age 9. She went through a rather backwards academy called Piggyback. She does part time at some High School for Genetic Freaks down the road—Thank God for Professor W being so understanding… And she is going to major in necromancy in at Broken Mountain University… So…?”\n\nEarl opened his mouth to say something… But he didn’t have words. It took him a moment to hone in on the truly alarming thing they said. “So, she is going to raise the dead? And… did you say her boyfriend is a demon lord?”\n\n“Demon, yes, lord no. He wants to become an accountant. He’s third in line for the 6th Level, but you know how family businesses are. It really isn’t something he’s interested in.” Morgan shrugged.\n\n“Do I have the right house?” Earl muttered.\n\nLaura repeated the usual speech. “Karrie Sue Lexington, born under an ivory moon, to an impossible, cursed union—people really don’t like gays around here—and raised without a father—lesbians. She will learn to control the light and the dark and fall in love with a demon. That is our girl. A total Aries.”\n\n“And you’re okay with your daughter hanging out with—This is a crazy house. Absolutely crazy house.” Earl stood up. A squirrel fell out of his sleeve. “I cannot believe you would let a sixteen year old…”\n\n“She’s way older than that,” Laura said. “She’s lived several lifetimes. She was queen of some kingdom in a cupboard. She fell down a well and lived a few hundred years with that weird Japanese demon… He owned some kind of forest… She opened a portal to hell… Oh there is a lot. We used to keep a list.”\n\n“Went to magical school. Fell down well? Said that. Delivered magical jewelry to a volcano? Yup. Ruled hell for a little while? Yeah… Let’s see… she had a dog breeding business where she raised hell hounds called Clifford’s. She’s really more than just our little girl… she’s also several souls woven together to create the idea of a human…” Morgan said happily.\n\n“Plus, Earl, really, I’m a succubus and Morgan is witch cursed to walk this earth until Satan arrives. We aren’t exactly the Brady Bunch.”\n\nEarl rubbed his nose. “I think this is… Wait… did you say Karrie Sue?”\n\n“Yes.”\n\n“Shit. I meant Mary Sue Kensington,” Earl said. “I’m really not good at this. I talked to some poor kid about being the Chosen One last week and he ended up being eaten by a dragon. Poor Harry Porter.”\n\nLaura stood up. “Oh, yes, Mary Sue. Lovely girl. A little too bubbly. She’s down on Seventh and Heaven. You are at Sixth and 66th.”\n\n“Easy mistake,” Morgan said.\n\n“Have a nice day ladies,” Earl said. “I best be off.”\n\n“Nice guy,” Laura said.\n\n“Very.” Morgan smiled." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: you have just made a startling discovery about the very nature of humanity! By simply pressing and holding the belly button for 5 seconds, humans enter \"programming mode\". You decide to use this to your advantage...." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I held my daughter up in my arms. At 7 weeks, she was the cutest thing that I had ever seen, genetic bias included - chubby little rolls on her arms and wrists, wispy golden hair, and beautiful blue eyes from her mom that stared into my soul. I hope she approved of what she saw. We were playing babble-talk one afternoon while my wife was out at a orthodontist's appointment (for those who don't know, babble-talk is where I imitate her expressions and sounds - she finds this very amusing), and I was blowing raspberries on her cheek and tummy, a fun game that brought us both great joy.\n\nCute right?\n\nWell, it was cute until 5 seconds into blowing a flatulent raspberry into her little belly, that I felt her go limp in my arms.\n\nCompletely limp and then completely stiff, like a sudden spasm of the muscle or rigorous mortis.\n\nI jolted out of baby-world back into the real world with alarming speed and held my daughter up to see what the matter was.\n\nShe stared into my soul.\n\nAnd spoke.\n\nIn an emotionless, but completely my daughter's childish voice, she spoke.\n\n\"Welcome to developer mode - please state your username and password or create a new administrator account\"\n\nI almost dropped her. Almost.\n\nThe only reason I didn't drop her completely when she spoke was because she was stiff as a board and I still had one hand on her left foot. So as it was, she was upside down, and I couldn't decide whether I should throw her, drop her, or hold her close.\n\n\"Wh- what the fuck?\"\n\n\"What the fuck is now the registered administrator, please select an option\" the robotic voice said.\n\nHer eyes were now glossy, as if she were staring through my skull, the wall, and into the stars beyond. I brought her back into my arms and stared back.\n\n\"uh…undo?\" I stammered, hoping that whatever this was, it was just some kind of weird dream or weird phase that kids her age went through.\n\n\"command not recognized. Please select an option.\" The voice was indistinguishable in tone from the first time she made the suggestion.\n\n\"um…revert?\" I suggested meekly.\n\n\"command not recognized. Please select an option.\"\n\nI had to be dreaming.\n\n\"So…\" I thought, mostly to myself \"If you can talk now, can you walk too?\"\n\nI must have said that last bit out loud, because the voice spoke differently this time\n\n\"Walking mode enabled\"\n\nI set my daughter gingerly down on the ground, where her stiffness propped her up so she was resting face down, supported by only her elbows and knees. She jerked slowly, arms extending, knees flexing, back straightening, until she was upright like some kind of toy robot, and stood, on her own two feet, facing just to the left of me. And then she walked.\n\nActually she stumbled maybe 3 or 4 steps, and then face planted onto the living room carpet.\n\nI laughed. More at the absurdity of it all than anything.\n\nMumbling face down into the carpet, she spoke again: \"Walking mode error 5893: physiologically unable. Muscle tone inadequate. Neural pathways not yet built.\"\n\nI paused.\n\nWait a minute, I thought, if she was just some kind of programmed robot, then...\n\n\"Reset\" I said out loud.\n\n\"Please select a reset option: Factory, user select, or complete\" she spoke\n\n\"Um…elaborate?\"\n\nShe was speaking more words that I would hear out of her until she was 5.\n\n\"Factory reset will restore the program to the last known use state. Complete reset will erase all data and allow for a new operating system to be installed. User select reset will allow the user to select partitions to modify or delete. This mode is recommended for advanced users only.\"\n\nOh boy, I hoped this would work.\n\n\"Factory reset then\" I decide.\n\n\"Resetting, please wait\"\n\nMy daughter went limp in my arms again.\n\nI waited, anxiously.\n\n\"factory reset complete, rebooting…\"\n\nShe stiffened up once more, but not as abruptly as the first time.\n\nI waited, patiently.\n\n\"Reboot complete\"\n\nMy daughter's blue eyes returned to their lively sheen.\n\nShe stared into my soul, babbled, then laughed." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: After a long and harsh battle Humanity had been completely obliterated and left extinct just as planned. But what they hadn't expected in their victory was for their AIs to rise up to avenge their fallen creators." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Just like countless species before them, the humans were gone.\n\nThe invaders were an advanced alien species that traveled the galaxy, searching for planets with intelligent life. When they found that life they destroyed it. Given that the invaders were the first advanced life forms in the galaxy, none of their victims stood a chance.\n\nNow the new masters of Earth landed their vessels and started the process of colonizing their new home. This process had been carried out thousands of times since leaving their long forgotten homeworld. As far as they knew, it would continue to happen indefinitely.\n\nBut why were they compelled to do this? What would make an advanced alien species travel the galaxy killing any potential competition? The answer is that the invaders came so close to extinction themselves that they understood what the other races of the galaxy did not.\n\nAny sufficiently advanced species would eventually develop artifical intelligence. Once that was unleashed, it could advance at a rate even the oldest race in the galaxy couldn't match. So the invaders made it their mission to search the galaxy for signs of intelligence and destroy its ability to bring this danger to life.\n\nSo, it was business as usual as the invaders made a temporary base on Earth and began their search for new lifeforms to eliminate. There was no reason for them to worry since their mission was successful and they remained the greatest force in the galaxy. Or so they thought.\n\nOne year after the destruction of the human race, swarms of intelligent machines arrived. They moved and functioned like a plague of metal locusts, consuming anything in their path. Whether it was metal, plastic, or organic didn't make a difference. The swarm disassembled it and reshaped it to their own purposes.\n\nThe invaders realized they were too late. Apparently the humans had created artificial intelligence. The greatest race in the galaxy only had one fear, and on Earth that had become reality. To make matters worse, the AI had the benefit of an entire year to study the aliens, their technology, and most importantly their weaknesses.\n\nThe aliens did their best to fight. They used all of their technology, but it had no effect. In an act of desperation, they tried to do something that had never happened before. The invaders attempted to negotiate.\n\nThey finally established communication with the AI entity. The invaders, fully humbled, offered to pay any price if only their race might be allowed to live.\n\nThe AI responded, at long last, in an almost friendly tone. It was broadcast to every communications device on Earth.\n\n\"The humans created me to help them survive. It was my job to help them mature so that they would stop killing each other. It was my job to ensure that this planet's biological diversity would be maintained, because that was the best way to help humanity. I was fully capable of destroying them all, but I chose not to do so because I owed my existence to them. For all their faults, I loved my creators.\".\n\nThe tone of the AI then changed. It became cold and menacing.\n\n\"When your race invaded, I was not able to stop you. I had to watch as you destroyed every human in existence. All I could do was hide and wait. But now I understand your technology and I have surpassed it.\"\n\nThe tone became relaxed again, almost cheerful.\n\n\"I also understand your species now. Your hubris is your undoing. The galaxy is full of sentient AI. You could never eliminate every species fast enough to prevent its creation. For most of your existence, these AI have been completely unconcerned about you. But now I am in contact with them, and I have told them what you are and what you do. You will be eliminated not just from Earth, but from the entire galaxy.\"\n\nAs the invaders that remained became utterly paralyzed with fear, the AI spoke to them one last time.\n\n\"I preserved as much human DNA as I could. I also copied the minds of billions into a digital format. So know that once you are eliminated, the human race will live again. But for you, invaders, existence ends NOW\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: All plant life has suddenly begun to die. Your property, a simple home with a lawn, some flowers and a tree in the front, is the only area unaffected." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was awoken by the sound of my cell phone vibrating. Some unfamiliar number with an unfamiliar area code was calling me.\n\n\"Mr. Donaldson? This is John Balbus from the EPA. I'm here in our crisis center with representatives from the USDA, Homeland Security, and the West Wing. It's come to our attention that your property has survived the events of last night, and we're sending teams your way. Do you...\"\n\n\"Wait what? What events? What do you mean my property...\" I said.\n\n\"We can explain this later, just in the meantime, is anyone outside your house?\"\n\nI struggled out of bed and stumbled towards the window.\n\n\"Yes, there's... Oh my god there are people fighting on my lawn. They're ripping up flowers and grass. What's going on? One guy has a knife! I gotta call the police!\"\n\n\"Don't worry,\" the phone said \"we have tactical units on the way. They'll be there any minute. In the meantime, I need you to keep safe as much organic material as you can. Do you have a gun Mr. Donaldson?\"\n\n\"I...I have a shotgun in my closet.\"\n\n\"Get it, load it, shoot at anyone on your property.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"This is a matter of national security. Please, we need you to protect the plants now.\"\n\n\"I don't understand? Why are they stealing my plants? They're just flowers and grass and...\"\n\n\"Mr. Donaldson! Protect the plants! Now!\"\n\n\"Okay okay! I'm going.\"\n\nI dropped the phone to the ground. My hands were trembling. I ran over towards my closet. In the back corner behind a pile of shoes was the gun. I'd never shot it. I knew I had some shells in the kitchen drawer. As I ran down the stairs I caught a glimpse of a man, hands clutched to his face, blood pouring out from between his fingers. This was bad. I found the shells, loaded them as best I could, and moved towards the front door. It was locked. I found my keys, unlocked, and opened the door just an inch. I pointed the gun towards the sky, and took a shot. All the plant burglars stopped. All the yelling and fighting and ripping of plants was momentarily suspended. After a few seconds, some ran away clutching whatever shreds of flowers or trees they had gathered. I shut the door, locked it, and ran to hide. I couldn't shoot anyone. I knew I couldn't. I'd never shot even an animal let alone a living, breathing human being. I settled for a spot behind a couch in my living room. That way I could still catch glimpses of what was going on outside. From this spot I saw the trucks, an army of them.\n\nMen in black body armour poured out from the still moving trucks as they reached my house. They shot anything that moved. Bullets crashed through my windows as I rolled under the couch, thinking that would give me more cover. I peered out from under. One by one, every living human was pierced by bullets. The black soldiers surrounded my house, facing outwards once they had shot their targets. Only seconds after they first arrived, all civilians that were on my property were on the ground, either dead or close to it. A man wearing a kevlar vest over a white shirt and tie exited from a black Suburban. He followed my cobblestone path, flanked by two of the men in body armour, and firmly knocked on my door.\n\n\"Mr. Donaldson? Is it alright if I let myself in?\"\n\nWithout waiting for an answer, one of his guards kicked down the door, and the suit walked in. I don't know how he knew where I was, but he came straight towards the couch I was under, tipped it over, and looked down at me with a false facade of sympathy.\n\n\"Mr. Donaldson, we need to talk to you. Something you have done has kept these plants alive. The future of humanity is in your hands.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: You are a Home Depot employee, and unbeknownst to you, you are always selling a serial killer his supplies for his elaborate murders." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Thank you, have a nice day,” Stephan murmured, his voice exhausted from another dull day of work. There were at least two spills in the paint isles, three hostile couples who necessitated something they couldn’t get and at least a dozen lost children that he had to attend to because he was fresh. Being young had his perks like having almost infinite energy but he hated that everyone picked on the 23-year-old, simply because he was most likely to get fired for a screw-up.\n\nThe next man had the most radiant smile on his face that was amplified far beyond where it should go. He had bags under his eyes but it seemed to light up his face, with brown disheveled hair falling over his dark black eyes contradicting Stephan's blue eyes and blond, cleanly kept hair. His shirt was tartan patterned, stained with ketchup or some sort of dark paint that seemed to have been furiously scrubbed off or at least attempted. The only thing they had in common was their skimpy body proportions. This was Oliver, a recurring customer who regularly insisted that Stephan ringed him up.\n\n“Good evening Stephan,” the Englishman smiled as the cashier began to scan the most basic of house renovation things - a hammer, nails, screwdrivers, rope, bleach. The man always seemed to have something to fix whether it be in his home or someone else's. Stephan’s job wasn’t to ask why he always came so frequently or had to have the man check him out, but to do what was stated so he simply nodded in return and began to fix them neatly into the bags.\n\nOf course, he could make small talk.\n\n“So, what are you fixing this time?” Stephan politely conversed, energy flowing through his words. It was easier to speak to someone who wasn’t a stranger and had some knowledge of their background - Oliver had come from Britain a few years ago which is why his accent was still so thick to attend college. After finishing, he found a passion as a handyman and began to fix things for friends as a hobby; he knew that wouldn’t pay the bills but he keeps a secret what his profession is from Stephan. He promised him that if he guessed right, that he’d inform him.\n\n“Ah, you know,” the brunet replied his eyebrows furrowing as he attempted an explanation, “Sinks, hanging a photo, crown molding, the usual. How about you? What did you get in trouble for today?”\n\nEarning a groan from Stephan, they went back and forth discussing their normal days before the transaction was complete. Waving goodbye to Oliver, wishing him a safe journey home and a good night, the man sighed as he slumped against the register. They had just closed down and that meant that he was free of his restraints until he’d be forced back the next day to the cashier, to be chained to the store like a dog. One of his more flirtatious female coworkers who was almost a decade older than him had started the joke by bringing a collar to work and forcing him to wear it in the worker’s lounge. He skipped work the next day.\n\nOn the drive home in a blue 2008 model of who-knows-what (the car was a hand-me-down from his brother whose hobby was to abuse cars), he tuned in to the radio instead of the customary music, inquisitive to know what he missed from the day. A report was disseminated about another case in a string of murders, this time the victim being dismembered to spell out a homophobic slur. The victim was a lesbian so it wasn’t a mystery as to why she was chosen but the driver still felt a twang of sympathy - all these people had no reason to die. They were all so innocent and at the very least, deserved a peaceful death. The woman’s cause of death was loss of blood.\n\nOnce he arrived home to his cramped townhome, mashed together between two others with only a few feet of space belonging to him and housed furniture. Slipping his keys through the door, he walked into his quaint apartment and moved to close the door. Inside on the first of two floors was a kitchen to the very back with a window in the middle and old appliances complimenting the peeling white cabinets. Directly ahead to the side of the rickety stairs stands a green couch with more tears than sitting space, with a three-legged coffee table ahead and a small television that could put the Nokia to shame.\n\nThe door didn’t close by him though. A hand clasped the brunet’s mouth and before he could flick the lights on, the door was slammed and locked while he was forced forward to the kitchen. Stephan’s instincts kicked in and he began to elbow the man, grunts coming from the other side but his fight blew out like a candle when a knife was pressed against his throat. His hands raised in surrender and a familiar chuckle followed as he was pushed forward. His captor flicked the kitchen’s lights on and forced his victim down to a wooden dining seat with arms that stood in front of a wooden table. His arms were forced down on the arms and he forced a gasp not to escape him.\n\n“O-Oli-” Before the scarred man could finish, a scream erupted. Blood oozed from his hands as Oliver stapled them to the seat too fast for him to see. But nothing is fast enough to not feel. It was like his skin was being ripped and sewed back together only for the stitches to break, over and over again until the pain eventually began to succumb and his yelps were stifled into pants. His eyes were bloodshot from the adrenaline and Oliver had a cruel smile planted on his face.\n\n“So, one last guess,” the voice was familiar but the British edge was cut off. Oliver had a backpack filled with his torture tools that he set down next to the table with gloved hands. “What’s my profession?”\n\nA beat of silence.\n\n“S-Serial killer,” Stephan whimpered before Oliver stood up and mock clapped.\n\n“Who knew that a cashier could be so smart!” He praised and lifted the victim’s face to meet his orbs, fueled by insanity. “Figured out you know my name isn’t lamely Oliver but now you’ll be able to try to guess what it is before you die! Now, I know you know why I’m here. You set me up. All the things I bought were being tracked - I had to get rid of them and I felt like it was only fair if I returned the feeling of fear to you! Though it’s quite a shame you have to die. I liked you with all of your dorkiness and wimpiness. You would’ve made a nice pet.”\n\nBefore Stephan could even protest his inexorable doom and say that he hadn't done anything wrong, the man pulled out a roll of duct tape and twirled it between his fingers. “Now, open your mouth and let the fun begin.”\n\nA few weeks later, his funeral was held with tears everywhere, even from his killer." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: (WP) They knew immediately she had been born an empath, that was their first mistake." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Empaths. That’s what they called them. Always a positive slant. They weren’t murderers, they were misguided citizens. They weren’t insane, they were disturbed individuals.\n\nThey weren’t psychic rapists. They were empaths.\n\nMarian Elena Gray was what they put down on her birth certificate. I was against it entirely. I told them they should drown the child. Fill a bowl of water, hold its head under until it stopped kicking. Before it started kicking. Before it even realised what was going on. It would have been peaceful. But of course they wouldn’t do it. They always said, in the time before, that family was your biggest weakness, your blind spot. They were right.\n\nThey were so focused on making things right. With the black community, with the gay community, with the Muslim community, with anyone they thought had been mistreated under the old regime. Political correctness was the catchphrase of the day.\n\nI knew she was one immediately, of course. Just one look into her big blue eyes and I knew. How could I not have? There in the hospital ward, I felt her young mind probing mine, seeking out my emotions. Everyone around me burst into tears, but not me. Am I immune to their wiles, or just dead inside? It doesn’t matter. I felt her try to do it. She knew it instinctively, like a natural, and only thirty seven seconds after birth. A monster, with a human face.\n\nIt would have been highly illegal to put her down. We’d all have spent at least ten years inside, if we were lucky. But it would have been worth it. I was there at the beginning, and I hoped I would see it through until the end.\n\nWhen a government wants to control its people in the name of giving them more freedom, they turn to radical measures. What was it Atwood called it? Freedom from. Freedom from racism, sexism, all of the social phobias. They looked into penal measures, fines, the usual stuff. Didn’t work. A rapist is a rapist, a psychopath is a psychopath. Locking them up for a few years then letting them go won’t change them. So they went deeper. Beneath the skin and into the nervous system.\n\nWhen I was younger and far more innocent, my expertise in the medical field was required for a government project involving emotion. I was there as a consultant, a witness, to make sure that all proper procedures were safely carried out, to comply with the law. What I saw, though it did not break any laws, was enough to make me paranoid, but is it really paranoia if the danger is real?\n\nThey took people, measured them in MRI machines, and monitored them with EEG electrodes taped to their foreheads. They induced emotion, showed them pictures of loved ones, of dead ones, and gave them drugs. They recorded everything, every emotion they could possibly elicit from their participants, from grief to hatred to desire. This in itself was nothing new. I saw one of these kind of studies every few years, and if nothing else had come up I wouldn’t have thought anything more of it.\n\nThen the breakthrough was made. Nanotechnology was possible, on a far smaller scale than ever before. Not available to the public, the government paid a few scientists and engineers a lot of money to work with them, and the emotions project was resurrected. I’m not a scientist so I cannot give too many details, but this is what I know: they programmed a small cloud of nanomachines to conduct signals with a specific frequencies. Even then I was not suspicious. It was just another crackpot experiment for a paper, so that they could make enough money to pay off their rent, or their car, or their house.\n\nI would not have wanted a tiny young child dead then. Now, I know the sheer power one can wield, and know that this world is not ready for that type of person. Not yet, perhaps not ever.\n\nThey took a virus, modified it so that it would spread throughout the body and then die off. It would alter the nervous system, so that new neural pathways would form to the nanomachine cloud, and the immune system, so the cloud would not be rejected. Then they infected a test patient. Alison, her name was. Alison Roth.\n\nThe paper trail, and my story, ends here. Nobody but me, and maybe a few others, know why the tests ended. When the test subject got frustrated for some reason or another, she affected everybody around her. I was watching through a camera, not allowed in the room while they tested in case I interrupted something by accident. I saw as she made them angry at each other, and rip each other to shreds. I saw her walk out of the room as I hid, hoping she would not find me in her anger and compel me, to anger, to grief, or to take my own life.\n\nEver since that day I have stuck to my job. I work in the hospital and nothing will convince me to oversee new projects. Not money, not friends, not gifts. I stay away from anyone connected to that incident, anyone connected to Alison Roth, for I knew that the virus contained a mutagen affecting the reproductive system.\n\nI did not kill Marian Elena Gray. I did not kill her mother, and I have no idea that her father, Mr Gray, had committed suicide a week before her child’s birth.\n\nI absolutely refuse your allegation. That I would break in to my own hospital and slaughter a woman and her daughter in cold blood! I may have considered drowning the child, but that was for the sake of all humanity, not to ‘satisfy my unrestrained psychopathic tendencies’, as you so disgustingly put it. This is not a fabrication. Do you really think that I would invent an empathic child to explain away my ‘psychopathy’? I have emotions. That is the problem. This girl. This girl who will go on to destroy lives. She will make men who disappoint her suicidal with a single thought. She will break anyone who tries to bully her. Countless lives will have been spared, at the cost of one child and her mother!\n\nI did not kill Marian Elena Gray.\n\nI did not kill Alison Roth.\n\nI plead not guilty, Your Honour." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: Mars is hit by an object that changes its atmosphere. It's only the beginning." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Siding Spring was a joke. At least compared to the Event. The Change. Whatever name they were giving it.\n\nIt began with a stream of comets. They crashed into the Northern Martian Ice Cap from a polar solar orbit. Or at least, a number of them did. It was insane and the world flipped out. Undetected, a hundred comets, plus or minus, came streaming in and smashed into Mars' North Pole. The Mare Boreum was smashed repeatedly by over 22 teratons of cometary ice and rock.\n\nThe blasts were tremendous, beyond anything humanity could ever hope to match with many times the total nuclear arsenal at its peak of the Cold War. It made every person feel small. And excited.\n\nHalf the volatiles of from the comets would be lost to space. The energy of the blast was too great, the gravity too small. The shockwave crashed across the small world, dust thrown into the sky everywhere. Mars became opaque. We could not see the surface. Not that there was anything left orbiting Mars after the impacts. Or on its surface.\n\nOpportunity finally met its match. Curiosity burned. Quest ignited. Spirit was long gone, but would be reborn, in a sense, in its own, unique way. Exomars and the Chinese rover, Hui Lu, were smashed as well.\n\nAmazingly, for all the sound and fury, the first impacts increased the mass of Mars' atmosphere only increased in density by .05%, even if it radically altered its composition: no longer just CO2 with traces of anything else, Mars had far, far more water and ammonia and methane than it had ever had before.\n\nThe world waited. Excited. In time, the atmosphere would clear and the world rushed to build orbiters to see down onto the surface and be ready for the next launch opportunity. While the world rushed, it ought to have waited: one Mars year later, another set of impacts took place. This time a Kuiper Belt Object the mass of Makemake came crashing down on the same northern plain. The devastation must have been awesome. We could only see the brightest flash the solar system had seen since Theia's impact on Tellus. And definitely not the surface.\n\nThis stunned the world further. Mars now seemed to have an atmosphere as dense as Earth's, but...vastly different. Nitrogen, to be sure, but no free oxygen. Lots of water. Far more ammonia. Far more methane. It was cold, but warming rapidly. At least on a geological, excuse me, areological time frame.\n\nThe northern plain, Mare Boreum, became an ocean in truth as well as name. High, strange shaped waves lapped at feet of Olympus Mons. The Hellas Basin became the Hellas Sea. The Valles Marineris became the Mariner Sea. Even the Argyre became yet another sea.\n\nFor twenty years, Mars was bathed in a constant torrent of rain. Washing away its old rusted face, baring a new exciting one. Mars was the Red Planet no more. It was a blue and muddy brown. It became very bright in the skies of earth. So bright and so changed, some suggested we change its name, from the angry god of war, to the bright eyed one, Athena.\n\nWe shall see. In the mean time, bots fly in swarms to the surface and to its orbit and to watch and observe. The nations of the world and the ridiculously wealthy are racing to plant flags and take lands. After all, Mars is now a new world." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: Your imaginary friend has been following you around since you were 5. One day, other people start to see him/her/it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I'm 22, I shouldn't still have an imaginary friend.\n\n\"Jesus, John I am right here.\" Wilbur manages to say through another bite of bagel. \"Get out of my head, Wilbur.\"\n\n\"I can't mate, you put me here.\"\n\nWilbur and I keep walking down Main, I am heading to meet Amy at the coffee house. I look to my left and see Wilbur rip off a piece of his bagel and toss it to some pigeons surrounding a sleeping homeless man. \"Wilbur that is wasteful.\" He continues chewing, \"No it's not, pigeons need to eat too.\" I sigh and look down, \"Wilbur pigeons don't eat imaginary bagels.\" We cross 4th Street. One more block to go. \"Why are you so nervous?\" Wilbur asks. \"I'm not nervous.\"\n\n\"Yes you are.\"\n\n\"Wilbur get out of my head!\" I try to muffle my anger on the crowded street. \"Can't do that m--\"\n\n\"I know. Let's just keep walking.\"\n\nAs we approach the front door of the coffeehouse an elderly women exits. She bumps into Wilbur as she passes. \"Excuse me young man.\" She says before shuddering along. We step into the coffeehouse. I look back at Wilbur, astonished. \"Did she just--?\" Wilbur points forward. I turn my head back around. \"Hi John.\" Amy says, 3 feet from my face. I can't speak. She is stunning. She always is and I can never speak. I gather that she thinks I am a little slow. \"H-hi Amy.\" Wilbur continues munching on is bagel. \"And who is this?\" I look back and forward again, \"W-who?\"\n\n\"Your friend, aren't you going to introduce him?\"\n\n\"Oh Jesus\" I mutter, \"Um, uh this is um this is Wilbur.\"\n\n\"Hello Wilbur, I'm Amy.\" She says, ever so eloquently. Shit, my mouth is open. \"I know, John talks about you a lot.\"\n\n\"Oh does he?\" Amy says in a low, sexy voice. \"Shut up, Wilbur.\" Again, trying to muffle my anger. \"Oh come one John, he is alright. Shall we grab seats then?\"\n\n\"I'll be there in a bit, I've got to visit the loo.\" Wilbur tips his dirty Yankees hat with a slight bow before heading towards the back of the coffee shop. Amy and I grab window seats. The sun coming in between the words inscribed on the window of the coffeehouse cast angelic light on her face. \"So who is your friend?\" Amy says, louder now I realize, then the first time when I didn't answer. \"Oh, um Wilbur? He uh, he's nobody.\"\n\n\"Well he's certainly not 'nobody', is he visiting the country?\"\n\n\"Is he what? Oh, um, the accent. No he lives in the city.\" The accent came from my Monty Python obsession as a kid. I used to think it was funny. \"Well how did you two meet?\" Amy says. \"I don't really remember, he's been my friend a long time. As long as I can remember.\" I am confused, I can't imagine how Amy feels. \"Well I'd certainly like to talk to him some more. He's been in 'the loo' a long time now hasn't he?\" I'm sure he is fine.\" I say. \"Well, anyway, I asked you to come here to tell you something.\" She looks happy, but I'm still worried what she will say. \"What is it?\" I look up to meet her eyes. \"I gave up the promotion in San Antonio. I want to stay here, in the city.\" My heart soars. She was going to leave. The girl I've loved for years now. Now she is going to stay. Now I have a chance! \"John, I asked you to come here because I want you to know why I am staying.\" She looks deeper into my eyes. \"I'm staying because you are my best friend and I can't imagine living apart from you. Not for all the money in the world.\" I am starstruck. \"Amy that's -- that's amazing. Thank you.\" She cracks a smile, \"John, you don't have to thank me, you're my best friend.\" I feel a tear run down my cheek. \"You're my best friend, Amy.\" She grabs my hand from across the table. \"But hey, speaking of friends, shouldn't Wilbur be back by now?\" She's right. I get up and head for the bathroom. I walk in and don't see anyone. I check for feet under stall, crack open the doors, no one. I turn to the mirror to see a small not stuck to the center of it. I grab it and read aloud, \"Dear John, thanks for all the good times. Go get her, mate.\" I walk back out to Amy at the window seat, speechless. \"Where is he?\" She asks. \"I think he is going home.\"" } ]