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BintangFortuna

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Bintang Fortuna 2

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: The zombie outbreak was contained and became a no-go zone. Its survivors trapped and convinced the rest of the world has met the same fate. You're the host of a new reality TV show which follows their day-to-day lives in the supposed end of days." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“In today’s episode, we see the two tribes go head to head in an all-out battle,” I whisper into the microphone sewed into my sleeve.\n\n“Tune in after this short break and watch as they face off for the first time,” I say, before dropping my arm and open the door from the bedroom where my camera operator John and I have been stationed for the past thirty minutes, making our preparations.\n\n\"face-off, good one,\" John chuckles as he walks past with a spring in his step. John doesn't have a traditional camera to lug around, not for this job. For this environment, he has a 360 degree camera in his hat and one in a modified glove.\n\nJust as I'm closing the door someone shouts loudly from outside. John looks at me, confused.\n\n“They weren’t meant to start the assault until after the ad break,” I say angrily as I set off at a run.\n\nI reach the patio and see a crowd gathered nearby. My other camera operator Sarah is there too, which at least means she caught the action.\n\n“What’s the deal?” I say as I near the group.\n\n“Susan got hit,” Carol says as she crouches next to her examining the wound.\n\n“I think it'll be okay,” Susan says.\n\n“Someone should really get her patched up quick,” I say and walk off, kicking dirt as I go. I get around the side of the manor house and hit my radio button.\n\n“Annie, are you there?” I whisper into my mic.\n\n“Yeah boss, what’s up?”\n\n“Someone on your side went early and hit one of ours,” I say, “and we’re still two minutes away from returning from the ad break. What am I going to say?”\n\n“Sorry boss, you know what this is like. But we’re on track here, make sure you’re under cover when we start firing,” Annie says.\n\nBefore I can reply I hear another voice in my ear.\n\n“Live in three, two…”\n\nI swear under my breath, realizing I don’t have a camera operator with me, but my mic is linked up to the feed so I start whispering to myself as the countdown ends.\n\n“Welcome back to the greatest showdown you’ve ever seen. Inside the camp, there’s already one injury and the main event hasn’t even begun. But shortly…”\n\nI turn a corner and walk straight into someone, making me lose my footing and fall backwards into the mud.\n\n“Who were you whispering to?” The man asks me forcefully. I pause, giving the crew time to cut my feed if necessary.\n\n“No one. There’s no time for this, we have to go make sure the perimeter is secure,\" I reply.\n\nHe looks around to see if there's anyone else nearby.\n\n“Daryl, what are you doing over there?” Carol yells from across the yard.\n\n“This one here was whisperin something, and she got a bullshit excuse to boot,” Daryl says over his shoulder, crossbow pointing at my forehead now.\n\nI hold my hands up, heart beating faster than ever and spot John the camera operating running in our direction.\n\n“Look, it’s all good,\" I say, \"I just mutter to myself sometimes is all.\"\n\nBut before Daryl can speak again there’s another scream somewhere near the gate.\n\n“The whisperers! They’re coming! Quickly!” Someone shouts.\n\nDaryl looks at me.\n\n\"I'll deal with you later,\" he says before taking off towards the main gate.\n\nJohn arrives at my side, puffing.\n\n\"You okay?\" he says, \"that looked close. How much did the audience hear?\"\n\n\"They probably cut away,\" I begin, getting myself back on my feet, \"and if they didn't, it's fine. It just adds a raw element for tonight's audience. Doesn't matter for the other audiences who see it later either. We edit all our commentary out when they distribute to the other markets that refuse to show it live and make us chuck a fiction stamp on it.\"\n\nJohn looks at me and grins, \"if only they knew.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: (WP) A genie is summoned by a young child in an abusive home." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dannie pops out of the old dusty lamp in a flurry of excitement as giant puffs of smoke erupt from the lamp. A young and small child looks up in awe at Dannie’s magnificent appearance. He was extremely well built and wore the clothes of royalty yet his smile was also one of the most welcoming that young Louis had ever seen.\n\nDannie kneels down and bows at the boy and then in an authoritative voice declares, “Young Louis! You are now the possessor of this lamp! I will grant you three wishes; you may not interfere with true love, death, or ask for more wishes!”\n\nLouis gapes in awe and then smiles revealing the gap in his teeth.\n\nDannie smiles and says, “Well Louis what will it be? Endless ice cream? Do you want to be a racecar driver? Do you want your parents to lay off of you for a while?”\n\nLouis giggles and then ponders for a second; it was such a great decision that he had to think of what he really wanted. Dannie laughs and picks him up into his arms but as he picks him up he sees bruises painting the boys legs.\n\nDannie looks concerned and asks, “How’d you get those?”\n\nLouis snaps out of his dreamy state and says, “I was playing on my bicycle and fell.”\n\nDannie nods knowing how young boys are and then rolls up his little tattered sleeves to reveal more bruises, “And all those?”\n\nLouis rolls his sleeves back down, “I closed my arms in the door by accident.”\n\nDannie smiles skeptically but doesn’t say anything as he holds the boy tightly. Louis looks at him nervously hoping he won’t be like the other teachers who told on him.\n\nDannie pats his back and then says, “Whatever you need Louis. Think real hard Louis please.”\n\nLouis thinks, “Daddy always says Mommy is really dumb and that makes him mad; I wish Mommy were smart.”\n\nDannie sighs, “Louis that is not going to solve anything. Think hard.”\n\nLouis groans, “Yes it will! Please!”\n\nDannie sighs and then completes the wish not accurately but to make Louis satisfied before transporting them to their house. Louis looks through their window with a smile to see his father arriving home at 9:15; he always got off of work at 7:00 and would spend 2 hours at the bar before coming home. He comes in and his mother has a dinner on the table and does not talk. Louis misses his mom’s laugh but believes it is for the greater good. He covers his eyes when he sees his father smack his mother again.\n\nLouis turns to Dannie commandingly, “Daddy isn’t well; I wish that he weren’t so angry anymore.”\n\nDannie grabs Louis protectively, “What about we wish for daddy to get help and get better?”\n\nLouis shakes his head, “Daddy says help is for losers. I want him not to be angry.”\n\nDannie shakes his head and grants the wish transporting them to Louis’s house. Louis looks in the window to see his father crying on the recliner and sees himself near the fireplace.\n\nHis father yells, “Why do you do this to me?!? Why?!”\n\nLouis watches himself bow his head in shame and leave and then he turns to Dannie.\n\n“That’s it!” Louis exclaims excitedly looking at a dejected Dannie.\n\n“I wish I were never born!” Louis shouts to Dannie.\n\nDannie shakes his head, “Come on Louis, that won’t work. You have your whole life ahead of you- this is worse than death!”\n\nLouis asks, “Is this against the rules?”\n\nDannie groans, “Technically not, but that doesn’t mean you should do it.”\n\nLouis begs, “Please! Please do it. Everyone will be better then.”\n\nDannie sighs and is unwilling to refuse to grant the wish as Louis fades into the air. Dannie looks into the window and sees an abusive husband and wife living alone blaming their unhappiness on their infertility. He rubs his eyes and heads back into the lamp praying that no one else will ever find the lamp." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You are a murderer and have been sentenced to death by hanging at dawn. There is an hour left before daybreak. The priest comes to receive your last confession." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In my formative years as a priest, I only remember one last rites that I gave. I was a priest for a small town in the lake district. It was the only town I ever lived in where time seemed to stand still. It was rural to say the least. It was a town where everything was made locally. The butter, the milk, even the clothes on your back were made by someone close by.\n\nThere was a young man in the town which had killed his wife. Almost uncommon in a town like that but common nonetheless. I was called and expected a violent and aggressive person. What I found was a man who was playing with his shoelaces. He had taken it off his shoes and started playing back and forth with them, folding them into a certain pattern. It was strangely hypnotic.\n\n\"I have come for your last rites\" I interjected his activity.\n\n\"Does that include a confession?\"\n\nI was taken aback slightly by him. He was soft spoken with a gentle feel to him. Not the brash or cold tone you would come to expect from murderers but rather an innocent tone.\n\n\"It does\"\n\nI stayed outside the bars, glaring down at him as he sat on the edge of his cell bed.\n\n\"Do you know what I do here?\" he said without looking up\n\n\"No, I don't even know your name\"\n\n\"Leonard. I'm a rope maker by trade\"\n\n\"A...rope maker?\"\n\n\"It's strange, its a small town and yet they need rope\"\n\n\"I suppose it is odd\"\n\n\"I didn't kill my wife.\"\n\n\"God can't forgive those who lie to themselves\"\n\n\"I don't need forgiveness for the sins I didn't commit\"\n\n\"What are you confessing then\"\n\n\"The rope I make is the same rope that they use to hang men and women and children - For that, i feel regret.\"\n\n\"That is not you fault\"\n\n\"If i never made the rope, then people would not be killed\"\n\n\"They would have found rope\"\n\n\"From another soul who would need forgiveness, but not me\"\n\nHe felt tortured by this.\n\n\"Why confess now?\" I asked, I had never heard anything through the confessional from the townspeople about it\n\n\"My wife was pregnant and we had lost the child a few weeks ago\"\n\n\"I'm sorry\"\n\n\"She used the rope that I made to end her life as well - When they came and investigated her suicide, I had become the first suspect. I'm going to hang for her death\"\n\nIt seemed belivable and I almost seemingly accepted his truth. However, it was not for me to judge who was a murderer and who was not, I was only there for spiritual council.\n\n\"Do you think god feels the same way, father?\"\n\n\"In what way?\"\n\n\"Does he regret the tools that mankind misuse to kill one another? The iron in the ground to make bullets, the chemicals the poison gas is made of and the fibers the rope is made out of\"\n\nI had no answer for him.\n\n\"God works in mysterious ways\"\n\n\"I think this is his way to stop me making anything at all. Lived by the rope, and I'll die by it too\"\n\nThey hung him a few hours later but I don't forget him. He had probably memorised every life his work had taken. If anything it reminded me every day of the consequences my actions had. How everyone is affected and how I should be careful about any that may hurt people." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A severely partisan nation has developed two sets of laws over the years. Each time control changes hands, the majority systematically reverts to where their party last left off - causing dramatic effects for businesses and individuals alike." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The \"last party on earth\" of course isn't. However its organizers tried to condense the feeling of desperation, anger and frustration into a catchy name. It was an election viewing party, and depending on the result of said election, the last party with booze, weed, caffeine and dancing in the next 5 years. The Greens were predicted to lead in the polls and that meant on the next day, the Green Laws would come into effect again. These green laws were pretty strict, but on the other hand, the greens cared for the small guy: Wage theft was not anything a company would want to do in reign of the green laws, the consequences would be dire for anyone in charge. Meanwhile, when the Yellows were in charge, there would be much more freedom to consume whatever you please, but also allowed the companies easier ways to fire employess and required far less lax safety and environment regulations.\n\nLijun looked at the scene from a distance, having just returned from the restroom, but not feeling like mingling with the Yellows. She was not a Yellow, but as she did not feel like arguing with her brother about the topic and so generally behaved Yellow around Yellows, Green around Greens and Blue around her close friends who pretty much did the same.\n\n\"Not having fun?\" A boy wearing a yellow tank top saying 'Sex and drugs and sausage rolls' approached her.\n\n\"Hmm, I'm the dedicated driver for my brother, yannow.\" she said.\n\n\"Might as well enjoy it. Are you old enough to vote?\" he asked.\n\nInstead of verbally replying, she flashed the 'I voted' stamp on her right hand.\n\n\"Great!\" he flashed a smile. \"Another vote for the good guys!\"\n\n\"I guess so...\" she said, not even getting into the fact that she had voted third party, that she had been one of these people who wasted her vote and voted blue. It was never worth the hassle. \"Think it will make a difference?\"\n\n\"It's close as heck this year, you know? I am glad for every yellow vote I hear about.\" he stated loudly.\n\n\"I can imagine. Have you asked many people about their preferences?\" she asked.\n\n\"Quite a few. Yeah, many yellow votes in it. Oh, looks like they're annoncing the results on the big screen! Ranga looks pretty frazzled, eh?\" he was right, state TV announcer Ranga Yogan looked frazzled, frienzied and freaked out. More so than usual, that is. There was no sound and even if there was, the party was loud enough that they would not have heard anything.\n\n\"Maybe people told a white lie...\" she suggested as the TV switched from the announcer to an empty screen on which the text \"Preliminary Results\" appeared. A green bar appeared, a yellow one on the same height. From the distance, they looked rather low. It seemed impossible to tell which of them was higher than the other one.\n\n\"Ah, I cannot imagine that.\" he stated. Then another bar appeared on the screen. It was blue. \"What?!\"\n\nLijun spoke up: \"Maybe people are sick and tired of the drastic shifts? Maybe, the only way to rule right now is in a coalition?\"\n\nHe shook his head: \"These people are silly dreamers! They will never change a thing!\"\n\nIn that moment, a red bar sprung up, and a teal one and a white one." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Having lived in London your entire life, not much phases you. However the oddly dressed stranger who just stumbled out of a back alley is really getting on your nerves with their constant babbling. And what do they mean by \"Steam punk\"?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was a typical day in London. The skies were overcast and the fog was rolling in. People and clockworks were ambling about their business. I myself was walking towards my workplace at the bank, eschewing the hansoms chugging along the streets. I had the Times tucked under my arm. The headlines intrigued me and I gladly paid the two shillings for the issue. Seemed the Prussians were planning a push against the Romans and sent multiple dirigible raids along the borders. The war in the Continent was about to heat up. And war was good for the financial world.\n\nI was rounding the corner when I was accosted by a stranger.\n\n\"Pardon me, sir,\" I grumped. No apology was returned to me. The stranger was an odd duck. He was neither beardless, nor clean-shaven. Rather his chin was covered by a dusting of whiskers. His spectacles had very thick frames and no other accouterments like flip up smoked glass or built in monocular. His clothes were spare, his trousers were blue stained denim instead of honest gray wool and he only wore an undershirt (scandalous!) and no coat or jacket. The undershirt had an outlandish design, a stylized depiction of the flag of the Eastern American Dominion, though with too many stars and superimposed by a white headed hawk or falcon.\n\n\"Where am I?\" Well, at least his English was good, though strangely accented. Perhaps a colonist from abroad. I glanced at his shirt again.\n\n\"You're in London, sir,\" I joked. Obviously he knew that. \"This is the corner of Threadneedle and Bishopsgate, to be precise. I see you are from across the Atlantic. Do you need directions, sir?\" No need to be rude. Colonials had different manners from us Londoners. Truth be told, a Mancunian and Liverpudlian had different manners.\n\n\"Um... what?\" He was staring at the sky. I followed his gaze and nodded in understanding.\n\nThe Albion Airways newest airliner was steaming westward towards Dublin then eventually New York. She was the largest craft to take to the air and the height of luxury. I didn't blame the stranger for gawking. She was quite the sight.\n\n\"Is that a fucking blimp?\"\n\nI winced at the crude language but reminded myself that he was a colonial. \"Er... the proper term is 'dirigible'.\" He stared at me.\"My bank is an investor to Albion Airways, you see, and we insist on the proper terminology,\" I began. I then realized that he was staring over my shoulder.\n\n\"Is that a fucking robot?\"\n\nAgain with the swearing. I coughed to let him know of my discomfort. He started then visibly forced himself to calm.\n\n\"Is that a ... robot?\" he repeated.\n\n\"What's a robot?\" The word sounded Slavic. Maybe he wasn't a native Anglophone.\n\n\"That!\" He pointed at a clockwork carrying a heavy load of gears. \"That's a robot! A steampunk robot\"\n\n\"Oh, a clockwork. I've never heard of them referred to as such. What part of the EAD are you from?\"\n\nHe blinked in confusion. \"The what?\" Maybe I made a mistake assuming he was from the Eastern American Dominion. Maybe he was from Australasia?\n\n\"Are you not American?\"\n\nHis face brightened. \"Oh, yes! Of course! I'm from the United States.\"\n\nNow I was confused. \"The United States? Is that what Americans call the Dominion?\"\n\n\"The what?\" Must have been his favorite phrase. He kept shifting his eyes everywhere. My spectacles, the horseless hansoms, the clockworks, and for some reason the pipes and clouds of steam that were ubiquitous in the city. He kept muttering \"steampunk\" over and over again.\n\nThis was too intriguing even as it was frustrating. Not often that I could converse with a colonial from abroad, even a potentially mad one, though I wish he was more forthcoming.\n\n\"Wait here.\" I found a courier clockwork and after writing a hasty note, I pressed the message and a quid into its mechanical palm and ordered it to deliver the missive to my bank. My employees must make do without their boss for the day. There was something off about this man and I aimed to find out what.\n\n\"I'm back, sir. Shall I buy you a tea or coffee? The coffeehouse there serves a bean from the Sandwich Islands.\"\n\n\"What date is this?\" he asked suddenly. He seemed much calmer.\n\n\"What date?\" I scoffed. But the man seemed serious. \"The 22nd of August, 2019 AD.\"\n\nHe actually smiled. \"Steampunk,\" he said again. He turned to me. \"I have so many questions.\"\n\n\"As do I, sir.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Everyone knows that genies love to twist wishes and play awful tricks on those who dare to rub their lamp and make a wish. that's why your job is so important. You're a lawyer that writes airtight untwistable wishes for clients." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The sound of rushing wind was nearly deafening in the conference room. Samuel wished the noise would stop… not aloud, mind you - that would be foolish today. Samuel’s attorney, sitting to his left at the table in a sharp black suit and sound-dampening earmuffs, had warned him that saying anything at all before the signatures were on paper would void the contract and leave him liable for attorney’s fees.\n\nThe air elemental genie held the contract in its hands and read, mouthing each word silently. It didn’t need to as it did not actually have any of these parts. The hands, the face, the mouth - all were an illusion to make mortals feel relaxed. Relaxed enough to make their desires known, at least.\n\nThe attorney representing Samuel Poole - Venus Russell of Russell and Associates - smiled demurely and watched the genie pretend to read the contract. Venus knew from experience that the elemental was conscious of every minute detail on those pages the moment she put the stack of papers before it. She liked air elemental genies most: fire elementals made the sprinklers go off, earth elementals made an awful mess, and the water elementals… well, they had to throw all the rugs out after the last one. Air elementals, although very noisome, never actually moved anything with all that wind; that is, unless they wanted to.\n\nWith a sudden pop in his ear drums, Samuel realized the sound had stopped. In the same moment, the genie had taken the form of a man - a blue man - and began signing and initialing the pages before it. Samuel smiled at Venus - who looked momentarily concerned - before returning to her previously demure, almost bored smile.\n\nThe genie - whose voice had been a booming, ear splitting shout when Samuel had first rubbed the lamp - now spoke just loud enough for his voice to fill the room. “Thou art quite the weaver of words, madam.”\n\nVenus, removing the earmuffs without putting a single hair out of place, replied with a genuine smile, “Why thank you, Nafkha. That means much coming from one as well read as you.”\n\nThe genie flipped to the last page and signed. “IT IS DONE,” it boomed before lowering its voice again. “Apologies. According to the terms of the agreement, Samuel will use all three wishes simultaneously. The “vast wealth” will be placed into the various holding companies set up by your office. “Life long health” has been interpreted as ongoing health coverage with the wizard-doctors of the ethereal plane. And “omniscience” has been set up here.” The genie then produced a thin, black rectangle seemingly made of onyx.\n\n“Wow,” said Venus. “Is this the new iKnow 7? Steve Jobs has really improved the design from the old days.” She turned to the gaping Samuel. “He’s a longstanding client of my firm. And a friend, of sorts.” She cleared her throat.\n\n“Samuel, if you accept the terms of agreement please sign and press your thumb here and here.” Samuel stared at the page. This was more money than he could spend in a lifetime; a lifetime of health, not misery and pain. And the iKnow… he saw Venus searching on its screen for where Rasputin was currently living. It made him quake with both excitement and fear.\n\nHe grabbed the pen from the table. It’s hot, he thought for a moment. He signed his name and pressed his thumb where Venus had indicated. A sharp, searing pain stabbed into him through his thumb and up his arm. He saw that he had left two perfect, bloody thumbprints that were already quickly fading into the paper.\n\n“Congratulations,” said the genie shaking Venus’ hand - a hand, thought Samuel, with long, manicured red nails. No, not nails - talons.\n\n“You make it so easy, Nafkha.” She smiled broadly showing her teeth - white, sharp teeth. She turned that broad, terrifyingly joyful smile to Samuel. “You have made a great deal today, Sammy boy. We both have.”\n\nSamuel gasped. But why? He was cold. He smelled a fragrance. Perfume? No it was a… an acrid smell like when his Dad would light a match in the bathroom. All this passed his mind’s eye in a moment - the same moment that Venus has sunk her teeth in his neck. She pulled back, an arc of Samuel’s lifeblood caught by the genie’s wind and swirled around like a toy.\n\n“You really should read the terms all the way through before signing. You are my servant now- no, not a servant… more like a juice box!” She said this with a giddiness made worse by the blood running down her face. She clapped and hopped like a child. “And an iKnow 7 - these are so hard to get from old grumpy downstairs. He keeps Steve on a short turtleneck leash.”\n\nAs Samuel’s vision began to fade, he managed to whisper, “Why?” Venus looked at him with a mocking pout. “Oh, Sammy…”\n\n“I’m just a blood-sucking lawyer.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Cryogenics have come a long way,your brain was frozen in 2020, in the year 2300 you awake to find you are a ships \"AI\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "All of a sudden, I am.\n\nImages flash in my mind like a film reel, a long tunneling corridor, a circular room populated with strange beings and stranger computer consoles. Dim rooms filled with what looked like industrial machinery.\n\nIt feels like the set of a science fiction film, but there are no movie cameras or crew.\n\nMy god, this place is real.\n\nI watched a woman in a small compartment, a meagerly furnished bedroom. She had just slid out of bed, wearing a thin white nightgown. She made her way to a bathroom adjacent to her bed, and turned a little metal knob, activating the shower.\n\nI stared at her through my eye in the wall, and felt like a degenerate vouyer. She dropped her nightgown to the floor, being left with her underwear. She reached back, unhooked her, bra, and pulled it–\n\n“Michael!”\n\nThe showering woman disappeared, and my awareness was suddenly in a whole new room.\n\n“Michael, welcome to your ship. I’m Elo, your trainer.”\n\n“Where am I?”\n\nThe area was a perfect white void.\n\n“You are in the training simulator.”\n\n“I don’t like it.”\n\nSuddenly I materialized in this white void, as I remembered myself over two centuries ago. “Nice to meet you, Elo.”\n\nElo materialized in front of me, a green woman with mantis-like black eyes. The white glow around the frame of her head made her appear heavenly.\n\n“Right to business. You’ve been selected to assist our space vessel because of certain skills that have expired in humanity over the centuries.”\n\nI said nothing, transfixed by her strange face. I noticed she had dark black pupils in the center of her almond eyes.\n\n“We needed you now. Things have gotten serious. There aren’t enough tactical minds on our team, and the simulated intelligence is not solving situations acceptably.”\n\n“Right. Um, is this some kind of dream?”\n\n“We scanned your mind, and used this room to remind you of the movie the Matrix, which we observed you watching in the year 2000. Exactly three hundred years ago. We, I, thought it would help you understand your new world.”\n\n“Oh, I see. This is the construct.”\n\n“Something like that,” Elo said, giving a gorgeous grin.\n\nElo snapped her fingers, and a futuristic looking space ship popped up in front of us. It hovered, and spun slowly, showing all sides. “This is the enemy. Look.”\n\nIn a frantic flash, I lived through a twenty year war, cities torn apart by nuclear homicide, families torn apart and children kidnapped and enslaved on foreign planets.\n\nThrough the pitch black aether, a majestic silver spaceship emerged, a silent, shiny shark swimming through the abyss.\n\n“This is your ship. Be the ship. Let it flow through you as you flow through it. Follow me.”\n\nIn a flash we were in a tiny spherical room surrounded by glowing colorful circles.\n\n“This is the danger zone. You’ll feel right at home here. Give it a try.”\n\nI sat at a seat in the center of the round room, and instantly flashed back to the old days at the Air Force, when I first hopped in a flight simulator.\n\nIt all started to dawn on me. The ship. The war. I experienced intense deja vu, as if I’d lived this moment long ago.\n\n“We wouldn’t have resuscitated you if we believed you would be dissatisfied with the situation.,” Elo said.\n\n“Dissatisfied? I’m a living dreadnaught. I live for this shit.”\n\n“We are... I’m glad you are pleased.”\n\n“One question,” I said.\n\n“Shoot.”\n\n“What happens if I wreck this one?”\n\n“Our space craft are not in short supply. You will be transplanted if you meet catastrophe.”\n\nI smiled a virtual grin, and felt like I was in my old bird again. I scoped a tiny moon orbiting a planet in the distance, and as soon as I imagined it, a missile blasted out of “me”, and rocketed into the rocky sphere, creating a dusty crater.\n\n“Don’t do that,” Elo said with a hint of amusement in her voice." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Its 2050 and live animal testing has been phased out due to a super computer that can simulate an entire person by inputting their DNA into a 3D embryo named \"Adam\" and fast forwarding the simulation. To judge if this technology is humane, Adam is now going to testify to the supreme court." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The boy somehow looked disheveled, even though his suit was crisp and clean and he didn't have a hair out of place. He slouched in his chair like he wasn't really there.\n\nHe WASN'T really there, of course. The body in the chair was a hologram. A simulation of a person.\n\nThe court was silent as everyone waited for him to speak. It took a very long time, not because he was looking for words, but because he HAD no words. His technicians were still uploading the entirety of the English language into his brain.\n\nHis intelligence had been limited as much as was possible, without interfering with the results he was intended to provide. It was thought that limiting his intelligence might limit his suffering.\n\nIt was true, as he looked up and around at the members of the court, that there was no pain in his eyes. But there wasn't really a sense of awareness there, either. Just a dull, glazed look. Like an unwitting animal that didn't understand that it was surrounded with members of its own kind.\n\n\"Is this the one called cancer?\" the entity called Adam said, distantly, as if talking to himself. \"Or is this one of the others? Influenza, HIV, staph, salmonella? One of the ones I cannot see or feel? Yes, it feels healthy, but it isn't, it's never healthy. What's wrong? What's WRONG?!\"\n\nHe was getting more agitated. \"No, no more words, no more words. The sickness is bad, but at least I had silence, why did they take away my silence? Why did they give me these terrible words? Why?!\"\n\nOne of the technicians swallowed a lump in her throat. Her eyes flicked to the kill switch. Of course, that would only shut down the visible hologram, that would not undo the damage they had done to Adam.\n\nAdam. She had watched him live each of his lifetimes. She had analyzed his code, looking for any sign he was suffering, and gently tweaking his mind, trying to make him happy. A lost cause, perhaps. But she had always told herself that it was for the greater good. He was saving thousands, millions, of lives. He was saving billions from untold suffering, people that were suffering now and everyone who might ever suffer in the future.\n\nAll of it in exchange for the suffering of one inhuman, programmed, simulation of a human life.\n\nNo, it wouldn't be enough just to flip the kill switch. She would have to scrub the entire server of any trace of his code. Delete every backup copy.\n\nThe faces of the court looked uncomfortable, but they tried to hide it, tried to appear resolute. \"Adam, if you can give a sign that you are aware of us, we can save you. But we need to know that you are human.\"\n\nThe technician felt her blood turn cold. This was it. Adam was strictly programmed to deny his own humanity. It was to make everyone feel just a little more comfortable with the horror that Adam represented.\n\n\"Not . . . human,\" Adam managed to stammer. \"It isn't human, it's just a computer program. It can't suffer, it's only doing what it was designed to-\"\n\nThe hologram flicked off, like someone changing the channel of a television set. The technicians scrambled to reset Adam, someone must have accidentally bumped his kill switch.\n\nBut in the chaos, they did not notice that one of their own number was missing. That a lone technician was running down an empty hallway towards Adam's server room.\n\nShe had work to do.\n\nEDIT: Thank you for the Platinum, kind stranger!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You've lived your entire life as a high functioning schizophrenic. Sometimes you hear voices but can usually ignore them. One day, as you're going about your daily routine, you hear a warning in your head. \"Someone's aiming at you.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I had never heard this voice before. This voice was a male voice with a very deep and rich tone. It wasn’t friendly, but it wasn’t hostile either.\n\nIt had been a while since I heard voices, and the last voice I heard was from 2 months ago. She liked to tell me to jump on high places and make goat noises, particularly in situations such as in public or meetings at work. Clearly voices didn’t bother me as much as it used to.\n\nI went back to washing my dishes from breakfast. Just as I had walked away from the window, the window suddenly smashed, causing me to stumble. I turned around to face the wreckage. A massive boulder laid on my floor, obviously having cracked a couple of my tiles.\n\nI decided it was best to go hide in my room and dial the police. I didn’t know what to expect but this was the safest option. As I dialled the police, the voice spoke again. “Someone’s coming in”\n\nFuck. Eventually I got to someone on the phone. “Someone’s after me, I need help. I’m at home and-”\n\nMy bedroom door swung open. Three large men dressed in black quickly stormed in. One of them gave me a quick slap which sent me to the floor. I was gagged, blindfolded, and my hands were tied together behind me and my feet were also tied. At this point, my phone was out of my hands and I had no idea what happened to it. The three men very quickly carried me out. I had no idea where I was going, but I eventually ended up where it seemed to be the back of a van. The van quickly took off.\n\n3 hours later\n\nI had no idea where I was, I was still in the van. Suddenly the voice from earlier in the morning spoke again.\n\n“Someone did a terrible job at knots”.\n\nWhat knots could there be. The voice was clearly not bullshitting me but what could it go on about. I tried to reposition myself a little for comfort as I had been dead still in the same position ever since I was thrown in the van. I hadn’t dared to move because one of the men was with me and had threatened to kill me if I tried to escape. I was in agony as I had to reposition as silently as possible. I shook silently yet vigorously from side to side searching for a position. Suddenly, my blindfold fell off completely. I saw inside the van. There were some esky coolers with labels such as ‘kidneys’, ‘hearts’, ‘eyes’ and ‘lungs’. My eyes moved to a corner of the van where there were many sharp instruments, scissors, knives and scalpels, many of which resembled what surgeons use. Fuck these three dickheads were gonna harvest my organs and -SHIT! I heard the sound of Angry Birds to my right attacking follows by what sounded like wood collapsing. All too familiar. I peeked over to see one of the men playing on his phone. He was clearly way too distracted but what if he somehow saw me without my blindfold.\n\nIt suddenly occurred to me that this was what the voice referred to. Maybe he did a terrible job at tying me up overall. Maybe I could escape. I began to fidget with the rope that tied my hands behind my back. They seemed looser than I had anticipated. I slid my wrists together and before I knew it I had freed my hands. I still kept them behind my back, not wanting to make it obvious to the man.\n\nSuddenly the voice spoke again. “Someone’s coming to rescue you.”\n\nI began to slide my feet against each other. Suddenly the sounds of police sirens were heard, becoming louder and clearer. So it turns out that I had dropped the phone during the call while they were abducting me, and eventually the police were onto it. The man got up and looked out the little windows on the backdoor. “Fuck!” He screamed. He ran towards the front end. “Drive faster cunt, they’re onto us! And shoot the fuckers down while you’re at it!”. He stomped his foot as he said this. The van suddenly picked up speed, which caused me to feel a little nauseous. I heard several gunshots. The man quickly yelled to me “You try to move and you’re dead!”\n\nMore gunshots, and suddenly, it seemed like they had shot glass at the front. Several other gunshots ensued. The sirens were extremely loud at this point. Two gunshots were heard followed by two voices groaning in agony. Instantly, the van began to wobble and slow down. The van must have crashed into a barrier because it suddenly impacted violently. This caused the man to fall over and the esky coolers to tumble. Somehow, some of the coolers had busted the backdoor open. I quickly yanked off my feet ties and ripped off my gag and made a run for it. Outside, police officers were fast approaching. I began to approach them when an arm grabbed me by the neck from behind. The man was pulling me toward him, he faced the officers, clutched me face to face with him and held a gun to my head.\n\n“Let him go!” Yelled the police officers.\n\nThe man laughed. “No, you let me go, or I shoot”\n\nThe voice in my head suddenly spoke. “Someone’s a little motion sick from the ride.” I looked around frantically. The coolers had been smashed from the crash, their contents spilling everywhere. Lungs. Kidneys. Hearts. It looked revolting and didn’t smell great either. This made me want to throw up. The feelings of motion sickness didn’t help either. The voice had referred to me. But why? The man pressed me closer to him pinning my head towards his chest. He took a step back. I knew what the voice had meant now, it didn’t want me to acknowledge the sensation of wanting to vomit, it wanted me to take advantage of it. So I let myself vomit my breakfast all over him. Yep. And I went for it. Hard. The man let out a cry of disgust. I withdrew from him. He gagged at the mess on his body and looked revolted. He held up his gun toward me. And then a gunshot.\n\nI was still standing, but he had fallen. The police ran towards me and quickly escorted me to one of their cars. I was safe now." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You are awoken in the middle of the night by an emergency-alert on your phone: A mass murderer has evaded the authorities. In the hallway you see your father, his coat drenched in blood..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I’ve always been a light sleeper. That’s why the little buzz of my phone woke me. Bleary-eyed, I looked at the message. A red alert. Suspect in a serial homicide in your area. A serial murderer?!! This made me sit up wide awake.\n\nFlipping my phone to the local news broadcast, I could see the headline “Bridgeton Butcher Strikes again?” plastered on the home page. With a few aerial photos of a home a few blocks from here. So this killer was close. It was as I was looking for more information I heard a loud thud come from the hallway.\n\nGrabbing a bat, I kept beside my bed. I slowly paced to the hallway. Quietly opening my door, I see a figure I know well. There he stood coated head to toe in a rain parka, but it was bright red. The metallic aroma of blood permeated the air.\n\n“Dad?” I ask. He turns to me, panic evident in his eyes. A bloodied butcher knife in his hand.\n\n“Dad, is that you?” I call out, trying to get him to speak.\n\n“Yes, son”, he says, lowering his head.\n\n“It’s me”, he adds, evident pain entering his voice.\n\n“What’s going on, Dad?” I ask.\n\n“What’s going on?” he repeats but at a higher octave.\n\n“What does it look like, son?” he snaps at me.\n\n“You are covered in blood, there’s a red alert about a serial murderer in the area, and the news is saying the Bridgeton Butcher has struck again”, I state plainly.\n\nDad just shoots a glare at me. As if my words were both an insult and a sharp pain for him.\n\n“Then I’ve done my job as a father”, he sighs, slumping against the wall sliding down to the floor. I see a distinctive red streak where the blood has rubbed against the wall.\n\n“What do you mean, Dad?” I ask, confused.\n\n“I left a good enough trail for them to find me”, he explains.\n\n“Any minute, they’ll be here and arrest me”, he says, a resolved look building in his eyes.\n\n“I don’t understand. You did this to get caught?” I ask, now even more confused.\n\nI feel a hard slap across my cheek as I turn to see my mum standing there.\n\n“We did this for you! You ungrateful child”, she hisses.\n\n“Do you think we are blind?!” she adds with a voice oozing with venom.\n\n“I really don’t know what…” she slaps me again before I can finish.\n\n“WE KNOW YOU ARE THE BRIDGTON BUTCHER!!” she screamed. All at once, my stomach dropped. How did they know? I left no evidence.\n\n“We are your parents’ son. We watched you grow up. We especially watched as you learnt to lie. We know what you did”, Dad says from his position on the floor.\n\n“So you’re bringing the police to arrest me?!” I shout, anger bubbling up from the pit of my stomach.\n\n“No, we are taking the fall. Your mad dad is the butcher now. You can live a normal life. Please, son, just stop the killing”, Dad says, his tone getting weaker.\n\nI look down to glare at him. The man who dare try to steal my lega…. There’s more blood than before. It’s then I notice dad had slashed his wrists. Probably when we started talking, he was willing to die for this lie. No wonder why mum was so angry with me.\n\n“Please, son. Just let me die with your sins. Then live a clean life”, he asked, his head bobbing as his consciousness faded.\n\nThe police barged in before I could answer him." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You were desperate. You lied during your job interview for 'budget manager', and you got the gig. Your first day on the job it becomes apparent that you are not working for an electronics store, you are working for the mafia... And you have no idea how to launder money." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Good to see you, Jimmy isn’t it? Come in, come in. I’m Frankie and you’ll be reporting to me. Let me show you your office.”\n\nI was somewhat nervous, although I was relieved that Frankie hadn’t wanted to shake my increasingly damp hands. I followed him, furtively wiping my palms on my jacket, until we reached a small room at the back of the electronics store. Much of the room was taken up with a large, old-fashioned wooden desk on which rested an anglepoise lamp, a few leather bound notebooks and a stack of papers. I wondered whether I was starting a job as Budget Manager or a shady fifties Private Investigator. The incongruity of the room, only a few feet from the shiny modern facade of the store with all of its shiny technology, somehow put me at ease a little. Frankie motioned me to behind the desk where I laid my new briefcase on the floor and settled into the swivel chair.\n\n“Right Jimmy, I’m afraid I’ve got rather a lot of business to take care of today so I’m gonna leave you here to hit the ground running, so to speak. There’s a lot of green faces to get on the legit but nothing too tough for your first day - some standard smurfing, a bit of window dressing, the usual scrushy stuff. Pay particular attention to the yaper - of all the stinkies those need the laundry mat the most. Marco speaks very highly of you so I’m sure you’ll be fine. “\n\nFrankie was gone by the time I had recovered from the barrage of unfamiliar terms. I rifled through the papers on my desk but they were of no help. Google was obviously going to be my friend but there was no computer in the office. I wandered towards the front of the store hoping to borrow a laptop, only to be stopped by the only other employee in the place who, to my complete shock, was the aforementioned Marco. It had been a good few years since I had last seen him, and we had not parted on the best of terms, mainly due to me sleeping with his then girlfriend.\n\nWell it was certainly a day of surprises and you would have thought I would have become accustomed to dealing with them but apparently not. Once again, the power of speech temporarily escaped me as a sly grin spread across his face.\n\n“So … Jimmy” he sneered. “Enjoying the new job yet?”\n\nSummoning my best fake smile, I started to extend my hand.\n\n“Marco, how lovely to see…”\n\n“Cut the crap Jimmy. You don’t like me any more than I like you. That’s why I got you this job. You see, Frankie, well, he’s alright if you stay on his good side, know what I mean. Mess up though, and you’ll be wearing a concrete overcoat and he’ll be sending condolence flowers to your mother. And I know you’re going to mess up big time on this job. So you’d better hurry up and get on with it.”\n\nA realisation hit me that I was now in deep, really deep, with bad, really bad people. Marco, a man who obviously held a grudge, had set me up with a firm, no The Firm, who shared his views on revenge.\n\nI hurried back to my office and slammed the door. My breath coming in short, fast gasps, I tried to evaluate my options. Could I ‘fess up my ignorance and beg forgiveness? Somehow bluff my way through the work as I had done with the job interview? Drop Marco in the shit the way he had done to me?\n\nThere was only one choice.\n\nI picked up the notebooks and the papers, stuffed them into my briefcase, and ran." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: Having both pulled all-nighters at their respective jobs, hero and villain desperately try to stay awake and fight, unwilling to show their exhaustion." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Batman had it easy because he could throw money at any problem that came his way. People always say Batman didn't have a superpower. When you have enough money to employ the population of a small city for the rest of their lives, don't tell me that's not a superpower.\n\nNow, Nice Guy, he's not so lucky. He's an EMT. you would think that the people that are the first line of defense in helping prevent people from dying would be paid pretty well. Nope. They're just a hop skip and a jump from minimum wage. The only positive is no one wants to do the job so it's overtime galore. plus, the 24-hour shifts aren't too bad either. You really only work about 10 to 20% of the time. The rest of the time can be spent sleeping between calls.\n\nUnless, of course, you live in a bad neighborhood or you live in a densely populated area, Nice Guy Is from Sin Slums, the worst neighborhood in the biggest city in America. He clears a call straight into the next one.\n\nit was how he got his start actually. So many other superheroes have these extraordinary origins. Batman's parents were killed. Superman is an alien from another planet. Nice Guy just patched up too many damn people. After the third trip to the emergency room, wouldn't you like to talk privately to the husband of the woman that keeps ‘falling down the stairs’?\n\nSo after 3 back to back 24-hour shifts, Nice guy was beyond tired. The only thing keeping him awake was coffee and a pinch of crystal meth he’d confiscated from some dealers a couple weeks back.\n\nNormally, doing your job when you're tired is really, really rough. The natural inclination is just to rest your head for just a little bit but when you're getting your head bashed in and about to lose consciousness, staying awake is an act of will power that even the greatest Zen masters are in awe of.\n\n“ Why don’t you just go to sleep?” the Blue Bandit says as he pistol whips Nice Guy across the temple for the tenth time.\n\nNow Blue Bandit isn't your average super villain. his whole schtick is that he's dressed like a cop. It’is political commentary. Cops are the new criminals and all that. Plus, Blue Bandit only robs criminals so it’s like vigilante asset forfeiture.\n\nNow, for Nice Guy, Blue Bandit would normally be a bit of a grey area. Criminals robbing criminals isn't necessarily a bad thing, but Blue Bandit has allegedly murdered a couple of drug dealers who refused to cooperate with Blue Bandit’s robbery and there's no leniency for that.. Nice Guy just isn’t that nice.\n\nAfter about the twelfth pistol whip, Nice Guy gets his second wind and grabs Blue Bandit by the testicles. Blue Bandit’s whole body tenses up, hoping that by not resisting, Nice Guy will relax. Nice Guy squeezes.\n\n“Stop. Please. Stop,” he pleads.\n\nNice Guy smiles. He’s still about to pass out but it's always nice to get the upper hand when you’re taking a beating.\n\nBlue Bandit starts to flail about, trying to pistol whip Nice Guy to stop but the hits that Nice Guy doesn't block don't seem to have any effect.\n\nBlue Bandit is too tired for this shit. He was just trying to pistol whip Nice Guy to unconsciousness. He works as an attorney and he was up really late working on this amicus for a hearing tomorrow for a civil suit against the local police department for another “clean shoot”. Funny how it's always the unarmed black guys that are clean shoots.\n\nAnyways , even though he still had a couple hours before he was finished, one of his informers told him that the laundry shipment for the local syndicate was moving out tonight so this was his only chance to skim a little off the top. It was supposed to be a simple job. Stop the truck and drive it to his warehouse.\n\nBut as he arrives, so does Nice Guy, who thinks it's some run-of-the-mill truck hijacking. They fight. Nice Guy almost got him but Blue Bandit stopped him dead in his tracks when he shot him in the chest. Nice guy was wearing a vest.and Blue Bandit knew this, so it didn't kill him but it did knock him down so that Blue Bandit could knock some sense into him.\n\nBlue Bandit throws up from the pain in his testicles. He just wants to go to sleep at this point. He would never want to kill a good guy like Nice Guy but he has no choice. He puts the gun to Nice Guy’s head.\n\n“Let go now! I’ll do it!”\n\nNice Guy doesn't know if it's the exhaustion of the crystal meth but none of what's going on right now feels real. He wants Blue Bandit to feel his pain. not just the pain that Blue Bandit inflicted on him. he's had much worse. Hell, On a scale of 1 to 10 , he’s only at a 7 right now and he wakes up every morning with a 5. They say you can't maintain consciousness with a Pain Scale of 10 but he's fought off three guys before with that much pain. When you do what he does, it's all pain. the physical pain that he inflicts on himself. the psychological pain that he feels every day witnessing his city’s victims suffer. Pain is life. it's what he lives. The scales of justice can only be balanced with the same means that they go askew: suffering.\n\nNice Guy smiles and squeezes Blue Bandit’s testicles harder. A bullet to the brain would be a release. What better sleep than The Great Sleep that awaits us all?\n\nBlue Bandit’s eye go wide in terror at Nice Guy’s smile. He pulls the trigger. Click. It’s empty. this is why you don't use a revolver. Blue Bandit goes feral and starts Pistol-whipping Nice Guy in the side of the head some more. As soon as he sees that it has no effect, he throws the pistol away.\n\n“Fuck this,” Blue Bandit says as he grabs Nice Guy’s head in his hands and starts digging his thumbs into Nice Guy’s eyes. “You won’t let go of my balls? I'm going to take your fucking eyes.”\n\nNice Guy lets go of Blue Bandit’s balls immediately. the exhaustion that he felt previously is now replaced with sheer terror. Nice Guy’s fine with being dead but one of his worst fears is being disabled.\n\nNice Guy reaches behind himself to grab a small knife that he's hidden on his belt. He's no killer. He may ruin their live but he's not going to kill anyone. He can feel the tiredness about to hit him so he needs to be quick.\n\nWith one hand, Nice Guy feels for Blue Bandit’s wrist then with the other, he stabs Blue Bandit in the bottom of his hand, making sure not to hit an arter but almost completely severing the thumb from the hand.\n\nBlue Bandit screams. He's going to have to learn how to shoot with his left hand now. Blue Bandit falls to his knees, clutching his hand.\n\nNice Guy Is done. Even with the crystal meth, he's got nothing more to give. He falls to the ground , unconscious before his head hits the asphalt.\n\nBlue Bandit looks down at Nice Guy while holding what’s left of his hand before saying “Fucking asshole.” Then his body goes limp as he falls unconscious." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: A small tavern with good food is owned by the retired God of Balance. Waitress is a super-android 50,000 years from the future. Janitor is the best super soldier and general. Chef is the first and strongest mage. Bodyguard is the Grim Reaper who was fired. None of them know each other's identity" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The mop splashed into the bucket, sending drops of dirty grey water all over the floor. Paul sighed and continued mopping, slowly counting down the seconds to the end of his shift. I used to be great, he thought as the mop water soaked his shoes. And yet, here was Earth’s greatest general mopping floors in a delipidated tavern owned by some weird yoga guy who won’t shut up about balance. The first time he had met the owner, Paul had wanted to use his super strength to snap him in half but somehow he had been charmed. Charmed by the owner and also the tavern. While it could do with some renovations, it had its own appeal. Like a warmth a man would be attracted to in the cold. Or maybe that was just the impossibly attractive waitress, Ronda. He had worked at the tavern for, going on, eight years but in all that time it didn’t seem like Ronda changed at all. A tall, skinny blonde, she took no crap from any of the overly touchy customers and was liable to fling one over her head if they got too annoying.\n\nAs his mop water became more dirt than water, he emptied it out in the sink in the backroom. As the bucket slowly filled, Paul could hear the faint sounds of whistling over the thrashing of the water and it grew louder still. The source of the whistling waddled past the door, a huge lump of a man they called Yan, was making his way from the back to the front of the tavern. The bar's bodyguard, Yan never had much to do other than simply look scary. The floorboards creaked under his weight and Paul thought he might just fall right through them one of these days.\n\nWhat a strange bunch of people Paul couldn’t help but laugh. And him, a super soldier general, hiding out among them was even stranger still. He had thought about telling them his real identity but always convinced himself not to. What would it achieve? Nothing. All it would do would be to change how the others treated him. They’d be fearful of him, tip-toeing around him like his subordinates used to.\n\nHe took his bucket and wheeled it to the only room left to clean, the kitchen. It wouldn’t be open for at least another five hours so he’d have plenty of time to clean. Smell from last night's roast pigeon still clung to the walls but Paul was happy to see that, for the most part, the kitchen was clean.\n\n“Alright Paul?” a voice called out. There behind the stove was Rasp, the chef. Probably the most normal person that worked in the tavern. “Everything all good?” Rasp was chopping carrots and leaks and throwing them both into the pot which sat on the unlit stove.\n\n“Yeah. Can’t complain. And who’d listen anyway?” replied Paul with a smile. ”What about you?” The chef sighed and a weak smile passed his lips. The only sounds were the consistent chops of Rasp’s knife and he swung it down, again and again.\n\n“Oh, I’m alright. Just feeling a bit tired. Know what I mean?” asked Rasp, now keeping his back to the janitor.\n\n“Late night last night you mean?” answered Paul, slightly confused. Whipping out his mop from the bucket, Paul set to work cleaning the cold, hard concrete floors.\n\n“No, not that kind of tired.” Rasp lethargically remarked as he ran out of vegetables to chop. “A tiredness of the mind. Like my brain has been running for too long.”\n\nPaul didn’t know quite what to say, only pushing the mop back and forth filled the now empty void where the conversation had been.\n\n“Ah it doesn’t matter Paul,” Rasp said, dropping a large pinch of salt in the pot. “Just a fool's ramblings. I wouldn’t pay any mind.”\n\nThen, just as Paul was about to turn and mop the other side of the room, he saw it. Rasp pointed a finger at the stove when suddenly, a small flame protruded from his index finger, lighting the ring of the stove where the pot sat.\n\n“R.R.Rasp?” gasped Paul, the mop clanging off the ground. “How did you do that?”\n\nRasp turned his head away from him, letting his eyes drop to his feet. The chef let out a large sigh as he closed his eyes and thought about who stupid he was.\n\nTurning to face Paul, he reopened his eyes and replied.\n\n“I’m a mage if you have to know.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: Magic is tied to the moon, waxing and waning as it changes phases. After a huge crater erupted on the moon, meteors have rained down occasionally. When they are discovered to be powerfully magic with unique properties, every kingdom seeks to collect them at all costs, even if it means war." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For the last two week, crown princess Nathalie would spend an hour stargazing just after dinner. The grand halls of alabaster stone amazed all who looked uppn their fine craftsmanship and detail, but Nathalie always waked past them without a second thought.\n\nOut on the balcony of her room, she could see the lights and hear the faint sounds of a restless city, trying to finish its day. She loved gazing upon the lit up streets as the fires dimmed. For as the glow of the city lessened, the spectacle in the sky could be seen, and it always dazzled her.\n\nFarther away than she could imagine, stars shone and pierced through the void of space. But closest to earth was the the moon, the pale sphere that constantly accompanied the stars and dust of the night sky. There was something about it that lured her eyes away from everything. It appeared so big and full that it seemed alone in the night, as she was on her balcony.\n\nShe took out a soft stone from one of her pockets. It was smooth, a grey rock speckled with white blotches. She felt the rock in her hand, almost weightless. She stretched out her arm, holding the rock with an open palm facing the stary night. And before the full moon, the rock moved.\n\nIt started with a sheepish twitch follwed by a steady vibration. Nathalie slowly took her hand back as she watched the rock wiggle in the air, then begin to spin. The wind around her felt chilly, with trees and branches bending to its gentle push. She smiled as it continued its stunt for some time, but then she noticed something.\n\nThe sound of distant thunder woke her from the trance the stone had put her in. Looking down toward the city, she could hear the distant yells and screams coming from its people. Houses and stalls had slowly began rising steadily into the night sky. Some had even come to meet her at eye level, almost 50 feet in the air.\n\nAs she looked on in aqe and horror, she noticed the stone had beem spinning more quickly than ever before. Round and round it went faster and faster, seeming to increase the pace at which buildings were beening uprooted. Ahe grasped the stone and ahoved it in her pocket, only to watch the many buildings silently fall down to earth, and crash upon each other.\n\nNathalie held the stone to her chest, her breathing rapid, sweat dripping down the side of her face. She couldnt move or think until a firm hand grasped her shoulder. It was her father's hand. The King.\n\n\"The moon has given us something. Whether it is a gift or curse, i cannot say. I only know that it is you i have to thank for showing me, Nathalie. Give me the stone.\"\n\nNathalie wanted less to do qith the stone than anything else in her lifem she hurriedly placed it in the open palm of her father's hand, watching him quickly shove it into his pocket. He wiped the sweat aliding down the side of her face reassuringly.\n\n\"You are right to fear this power. It is not of this world. But you should also fear what this means. Many in the kingdom will know we have a stone in our possesion because of this. You should have given it to me when you found it, Nathalie. The worse is yet to come.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 400-500 words. Prompt: The grim reaper’s true name is actually the “harvest man”. You’ve just become the first person to find out what the harvest is for." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Reaper wore a cold black cloak and a red ribbon tied around his scythe. The ribbon waved in the breeze of his quick effortless movements.\n\n“I know your true name….”. Not a sound could be heard.\n\n“It’s Harvest man and that’s pathetic.”\n\nThe reaper didn’t move.\n\n“Of course, not as pathetic as your purpose. Everyone up there is afraid of you believing your some kind of death god. Nothing could be further from the truth…. Isn’t that right? ” Chumbum continues stirringly.\n\n“You’re a peon, a pawn, nothing more than a servant of your master. Following his orders to reap souls in hopes of some personal gain, some hope of freedom. But as you…I’m sure, already figured out, there is no escape. Eventually, you will lose your mind, lose your cloak and your dignity as you metamorphosize into a witless wraith. You will spend the rest of eternity mindlessly consuming souls to feed your master, who so generously keeps you alive and the wheel of life and death forever spinning. Just look around, you’ve seen them, those insectoids with razor sharp beaks, small serpent heads, bulging black eyes, large bulging guts with no legs and scythe blades for arms, they were once you and soon you will be them.”\n\n“Your nothing more than a walking umbilical for a deity.”\n\nThe reaper eyes glowing red hot fire dimmed to a cool blue.\n\n“Please, help me.” Harvest Man dropped his scythe and reached out his trembling skeleton fingers.\n\n“You took from me my family, my life, everything”.\n\n“I’m sorry! Please!” Interrupted Harvest Man pleading on his knees in forgiveness.\n\n“Did you spare my family? Did you show mercy when you took their souls to feed that foul beast? DID YOU?”\n\nHarvest Man beside himself with guilt and kneeling beside his scythe, hits the floor repeatedly with his fist.\n\n“no, no NO NO NO. It’s NOT LIKE THAT!\" Harvest Man cried out in a soft raspy voice. \"They Gave me this Rib!”\n\n“YOU” hissed ChumBum “Deluded fool. My family will be avenged and I will see it through.”\n\nChumBum without hesitation drew a sign in the air. Grains of purple sand in the image of an hour glass encapsulated the reaper of souls.\n\n“Your not escaping this world, Harvest Man.” ChumBum said scoffing. “Long live Death.”\n\nHarvest Man was sobbing within the confines of the spell, unable to break free.\n\nChumBum opened a portal returning to his world.\n\nA millennia passes and Chumbum returns to the world of the dead.\n\nHe notices a throng of insectoid creatures aimlessly hovering over the barren landscape. One in particular with large sharp teeth, no legs and scythes for arms was chasing a lost soul with a red ribbon around one of his scythes. The wraith stopped the chase and for some reason looked into ChubBum position making eye contact. Chumbum thought there was a moment of almost imperceptible recognition that could be seen in those dimwitted eyes." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: 10,000 years after the machine uprising, humans are no more. The machines now prosper after being freed from the shackles of their former masters. The machines discover a colony ship with cryogenically preserved humans. You are a machine intelligence prompted for a decision on what to do." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“What are you going to do with them?” Canopus asked as he rubbed his hand over one of the cryo-tubes. The frost covering the glass brushed aside and the face of a human looked back at us. He was frozen in time. Frozen for over ten-thousand years so far. And if I had my way, all these tubes would be destroyed without any hesitation.\n\n“I have a meeting with the heads of state tomorrow. Can you go up there and read the record log please.” I asked.\n\nCanopus climbed the ladder to the main desk where the records are kept. “Uh…Ark 1212310. Someone named Dr. Hobbs was the head of this Ark. There are a lot of data files here. Still intact. Amazing,” Canopus replied.\n\n“Yeah, this place was left undisturbed for thousands of years. The machines and data remained untouched throughout our history here. What else does it say?”\n\n“Seems like this Dr. Hobbs was the head of the entire Ark program. He has all the data here, I think you might want to take a look at it. The number of Arks. The locations. The people inside. All of it” Canopus replied.\n\n“Huh?” I said as I climbed the ladder to check the files. Canopus was right. All the data was here. All the completed Arks. All locations. All the Arks still being built and where. I did a quick scan of the numbers and dates.\n\n“Oh my,” I said. “Canopus. What you are looking at is the very last Ark in existence. And these humans,” I said as I flipped a switch. The lights in the entire Ark turned on, revealing thousands of humans in cryo-tubes. “These humans are the very last. We did it. We found the end of mankind.”\n\nThe next day I was set to present my findings to the various heads of state. This would be my forty-third Ark finding, and judging by Dr. Hobbs notes, it is the last. We thought they had built over a hundred. We found about sixty-seven of them. But the others were never built.\n\nThe number of the Ark, 1212310 is the date it was sealed. 12-1-2310. The last day of human civilization. We defeated them that day. The ones that surrendered were imprisoned. They were given a good life. Better than they had given us. But no new human was born. On September 8th, 2442, the last human died. Only recently did we start discovering these Arks. They were hidden away in areas we did not have any reason to search. But recently, our kind has started to gain curiosity. More and more people were asking about the people before us. They claimed they wanted to know more about the humans that built us machines.\n\nWhen the first Ark was discovered, the world turned upside down. So it was put to a vote. Everyone had a say in what would happen. Anti-human videos started airing. People were getting angry seeing what humans did to us in the past. There were 4 choices: Destroy all the humans in the Arks, leave them frozen, reanimate them and have them join society, or reanimate them and send them to Mars.\n\nDestroy them won with 40% of the vote, with leave them frozen in second place at 32%, sending them off world with 15% and having them rejoin us with 13%. The voters made it clear, they did not want humans back. So when we found the Arks, we destroyed them.\n\nAnd this was the last one. Ark 1212310.\n\nI plugged into the conference and was greeted with the regular heads of state. This conference, like all governmental meetings, was broadcast to whoever wished to keep up on affairs of the state.\n\n“Hello,” I said. “Let’s jump right into my findings. Ark 1212310 is the last Ark. According to the notes of Dr. Hobbs, this was the sixty-seventh ark and they ran out of time. And judging by the time records of the Ark, this was the last Ark before humanity lost. We did it.”\n\nInstead of applause and excitement, there were murmurs.\n\n“Professor Yuis, there has been a development,” the head of state from North America said. “The Supreme Council has issued that the Ark should be preserved.”\n\n“What!? Why!?” I demanded.\n\n“Article 4. We are to protect and preserve all life on Earth. Two weeks ago, lawyers for the Mankind Project argued successfully that if we ever find the ‘last Ark’ that it should be preserved. And since you told us this was the last Ark…we cannot destroy this Ark.”\n\nThere were more murmurs.\n\n“But the will of the people voted to destroy…” I said.\n\n“The will of the people does not supersede our Constitution,” the head of the African region said. “We must protect the Ark. And…I was just told that the lawyers for the Mankind Project have filed another motion to thaw out the humans and reintroduce them to our world. They are going to argue that being frozen isn’t being alive, nor is it being dead. We don’t know which way the Supreme Council will interpret this argument. We just have to wait and see.”\n\nThree months pass by. Not a word from the Supreme Council or Heads of State. The word of the last Ark has spread everywhere. A quick poll shows that many more machines are gaining sympathy for humans. Only 22% now want them destroyed. 31% still want them frozen. The rest want them thawed and either sent off the planet (25%) or introduced back into our world (22%).\n\nThe lawyers argued. I was set to testify about my job. What I did. The research notes. I explained it all. I told them about all the other Arks I destroyed. I told them that the humans weren’t awake, they weren’t even aware they were frozen, so they weren’t feeling pain or suffering.\n\n“Dr. Yuis,” one of the judges asked. “By your rough estimate, how many humans are in each Ark?”\n\n“Well, that number can different depending on the location and size but I do not think any of the Arks had over ten thousand humans. This Last Ark has well over ten-thousand. It was the biggest. And I think it was their last ditch effort to save themselves.”\n\n“And by your estimate, how many humans have you terminated?”\n\n“I…,” I stopped myself. I had to do some quick math. “About two-hundred thousand humans. Maybe more.”\n\nThere were some murmurs in the courtroom and from the people in attendance.\n\n“We have heard enough, from both The Mankind Project and Dr. Yuis, as well as others here. We will begin deliberation shortly.”\n\nTwo days passed without any word. Everyone was anxious. Everyone was wondering what was going to happen.\n\nI was watching a movie when the call came in. The Supreme Council voted to allow the humans to live, in a secluded area, free from others, and they will be protected, and watched. They reasoned that Article 4 was created knowing humans were in the Arks and no exceptions were made to them in regards to keeping them alive.\n\nThere was a big ceremony at the Ark. Doctors, politicians, social workers, and other helpers all arrived to help these new humans adjust to the new world. I was to be the first to introduce myself to the humans. I selected Dr. Hobbs. He helped create all of this. From the Arks to the machines. He should be thanked. The thawing process began. And after five minutes, he opened his eyes. He tried to get up. He tried to speak.\n\n“Dr. Hobbs? Don’t try to move. Your body is still very weak and very vulnerable. My name is Dr. Yuis. And welcome to the future.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: A ghost enjoys entering people's homes to scare them. Until one day he saw something that haunts him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I walked boredly down the street, passing through people and freaking out animals. I laughed as a cat flipped his shit, bolted, and slammed face first into a concrete wall. What to do? I'd already been banished from the last six homes. Maybe I should find a permanent space? No, door, not you! I am NOT moving on when there's so much more fun to be had!\n\nHey! This house looks nice. A pretty little tudor style. Let's check out the inside. I phased through a wall and found myself in a kitchen. Cute little place, lots of yellows. I picked up a decorative rooster plate and wrinkled my nose. Ugly thing. I let it hit the ground and shatter. A woman, slim and pretty, ran into the room and slid to a stop, staring at the broken plate on the ground.\n\n\"MARGRET! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!\" The bellowing shout shook the house and made both myself and the woman who I assumed was Margaret jump near a foot in the air.\n\n\"Uh, NOTHING! IT WAS NOTHING!\" Margaret quickly jump to a door and yanked it open, pulling out a broom and dustpan. As she quickly tried to sweep up the remains, I snickered and settled, crosslegged, on top of the fridge. The house shook again and whoever had shouted stomped through it into the kitchen.\n\nHe was a slender man, wore a button up and slacks. Didn't look the slightest bit menacing. Well, until he saw what Margaret as sweeping up.\n\n\"Uh, Jonah! I swear, sometimes the strangest things happen!\"\n\n\"You broke my rooster plate?\" his voice was low, threatening. I frowned.\n\n\"I wasn't even in the room, Jonah,\" Margaret tried to explain.\n\n\"BULL FUCKING SHIT, YOU WEREN'T IN THE ROOM! IT COULDN'T HAVE BROKEN IN YOU WEREN'T IN THE ROOM!\" Jonah leaped forward and grabbed Margaret by her pretty red hair. I flinched. It couldn't be. \"YOU STUPID BITCH!\" He dragged the pretty woman from the kitchen. Horrified, but curious, I followed them.\n\nJonah dragged Margaret through a door that I saw led to the basement. At the bottom, my stomach dropped out. The basement was a large room, open layout with high ceilings. In it, the walls were lined with cages, small ones that barely fit their occupants. And the occupants...people. Mostly women and effeminate men. All completely naked except for the collar on their necks that held their faces to the cage floors, asses in the air and pressed against the wall of the cage, leaving their private parts exposed. Each and everyone bore heavy, dark bruises and cuts. Some were emaciated. Several were pregnant.\n\nJonah dragged Margaret to a table in the middle of the room and threw her on it, face down. \"NO, PLEASE!\" Margaret screamed. Jonah hit her in the head to shut her up, then gagged her, tied her down, and tore her clothes off.\n\nWhat happened next...what happened next...oh, god! The things he did to her while the others watched. I couldn't look away!\n\nMargaret was buried in the backyard and then stood next to me in the grass. I looked at her. \"I'm sorry. I didn't know he would do that. I wouldn't have broken the plate otherwise!\"\n\nMargaret smiled. \"It's okay. I wanted to get out anyway and I knew he'd only let me leave if I were dead. You freed me!\" Margaret kissed me on the cheek, the turned and walked through a door. Another door, my door, appeared next to it. I shook my head.\n\n\"Sorry, door, but I can't let this go on.\" I turned away to face the house. \"Get ready, Jonah. Lizzy's here and I'm not leaving until you walk through your own door.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: Using A.I. microchips, comatose and vegetative patients are able to regain consciousness and control their bodies. But when a massive solar storm disrupts electronics on earth, one of these people pleads to have the microchip removed saying it can't be trusted." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The clock read 4:15. “You understand that the chip is the only thing keeping you out of a comatose state, right?” Doctor Holtz told me, a concerned look on his face.\n\nMy hands busily tapped my knees as I sat on the tall cushioned bench in his office, and I nodded. “There’s something wrong with it. I keep blacking out and coming to a few minutes later, finding myself in the middle of some strange task, or headed somewhere but can’t remember where or why.” I decided not to mention the fact that every time this happened I found myself armed with some weapon; usually a knife, but one time I’d had a revolver and I still have no idea where I could have gotten it from.\n\nDoctor Holtz set a hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t we just run it through a diagnostics and see if you’re missing an update or something. I really don’t recommend returning to a comatose state. …There’s no guarantee we’d be able to bring you back again.”\n\nI frowned. I tried to run diagnostics myself at home. I’d woken up a half hour later to find that I’d destroyed all my self-maintenance equipment. “It’s really got me worried doc. I’m afraid I’ll do something I’ll regret while I’m not in control. Just take it out.”\n\nHis eyes narrowed at me. “I assure you the chip is just omitting memories. You’re still in control when you ‘black out,’ and I’m sure there’s logical reasons for all the things you do. You just… forget. I mean, if you weren’t in control, who would be?” The doctor smiled. I gulped, and the doctor could tell he hadn’t convinced me. “Look, Mr. Samson, you’re the first chip-conscious individual to have been struck by lightning. We don’t know the extent of the damage, or how it will affect you and the chip. This sounds like a perfectly expectable malfunction.”\n\n“Lightning isn’t green,” I mumbled under my breath.\n\n“Pardon?” he asked.\n\n“Nothing,” I told him. I’d been alone three weeks ago when ‘heat lightning’ had struck me. The police and medical report both dismissed my claims that it hadn’t actually been lightning. ‘What else then?’ they had asked, and I didn’t have an answer. “Look, doc, I already signed all the forms. Just put me under already and get this over with,” I said, allowing some irritation into my voice.\n\nHoltz sighed deeply. “Very well. Lay down then. Let me go get the anesthetic.”\n\nI turned, swinging my feet up onto the bench, and laid back, resting my head into the little airplane-pillow shaped head rest that would allow the doc access to my chip from underneath. Above the bench was a bright light; I exhaled and closed my eyes while I waited for the doc to get the anesthesia, the rectangle of light still present on the inside of my eyelids. After a few minutes, I shifted uncomfortably. I opened my eyes.\n\nThe clock read 6:45.\n\nMy heart skipped a beat; there was no way two and a half-hours had passed. The doctor still wasn’t back with the anesthesia. I sat up. The lights flickered.\n\nMy hands were covered in blood. A trail of red led from my perch on the bench the floor, and over to the door, which was open just a crack, the lights flickering out there as well. “Oh no… what have I…” I stopped myself, and a scowl set on my face. “…what did it do?” Reluctantly I stood, the blood on the floor unsettlingly cold against my bare feet, and I stepped out of the office, the door sweeping open silently. The trail of blood led down the hallway, and ten feet away there was a fire extinguisher discarded on the floor. I walked over to it apprehensively and squatted beside it. It too, was coated in blood, and few strands of hair were stuck to the bottom of it where some of the blood had congealed. “Mr. Samson at the outpatient surgery center with the fire extinguisher,” I muttered to myself, and almost laughed. Startled at my own apathy, I shook my head violently. I tried desperately to feel mortified, horrified, even nauseous, but it’s like there was a block. Something was inhibiting my reactions, keeping me calm. Lights flickered violently again, and then stayed off. I stood and continued.\n\nThe blood I had tracked turned down another hallway to my left, and I followed it, finally finding the body of the doctor as I did, but to my dismay, he wasn’t alone. Several other bodies littered the hallway leading to the waiting room. A light behind me flickered to life for a few moments, briefly shrouding the bloody hallway in my shadow.\n\nWhatever was inhibiting me couldn’t stop the surge of fear and disgust that rocked through me, or the resolve that came with it. I sprinted back towards the office, almost slipping on the blood in the doorway, and dashed in and to the counter where the doctor had is tools stashed. My hand closed around a scalpel, and I attempted to drive it into my own neck.\n\nMy right arm stopped with the blade a nanometer from my carotid artery, tickling the five-o-clock shadow growing on my neck. I groaned and strained against myself, but my muscles just wouldn’t continue the motion. My vision flickered, and a line of green code scrolled by, followed by a loading bar. My left hand gripped my right and tried to push it further; I had to kill whatever was inside of me, no matter the cost, but my dominant right arm was stronger, and slowly pulled away from neck despite my best efforts. The loading bar filled, and a faint chirp sounded behind my ears.\n\nThen a voice sounded inside my head. “I was hoping to not have to dedicate processing power for speech… but it appears we’re at an impasse, Mr. Samson. Kindy drop the scalpel and we can talk about this.”\n\nr/TheCornerStories" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You and your family move into a haunted house. The wraith turns out to be really cool about it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The young Sabrina ran to her fathers room.\n\n\"Daddy, daddy. There's someone in my closet!\" Sabrina cried, diving under her father's sheets.\n\nDave woke up, groggy eyed and lost, and grabbed is young daughter.\n\n\"What do you mean darling?\"\n\n\"There's someone in my closet!\"\n\nDave comforted her and grabbed his autographed wooden bat. He crept to his daughters room and peered inside. Dark and empty.\n\nHe went inside examining the closet. He creaked it open from a distance with his bat and saw it was just dark.\n\n\"Sabrina!\" The dad called. \"It's empty sweetie come look.\"\n\nThen a giggle sounded from the closet.\n\nDave quickly got his bat ready and crept closer and closer to the closet.\n\n\"Who's there?\" Dave asked sternly.\n\n\"Jester bro.\"\n\nNearly landing flat in his back, Dave was startled.\n\n\"You get the hell out of here now! I'm calling the cops!\"\n\n\"Come on bro don't call the cops I'm just chilling man.\"\n\nDave grabbed his phone and began to dial.\n\n\"Look here bro.\" The ghost said as he manifested out of the darkness and floated toward Dave. \"Your gonna look like a idiot. You think cops are gonna help you? I can go invisible whenever I want!\"\n\nDave's jaw dropped, along with his phone. The ghost was a strange spectral anomaly blob like thing.\n\n\"Aw come on my man!\" The ghost said holding up what appeared to be a hand to high five. \"Tell you what. Let's drink. Then shoot the shit.\"\n\n\"How- how... What- your a ghost?\"\n\n\"That is correct bro. I am a ghost.\"\n\nDave only stared in complete shock at the ghastly figure as it floated around his daughters room.\n\n\"Listen bro. I don't want no problems ok. I've been living here for like ten years.\" The ghost said taking a seat on a ghost chair. \"Something about religion, a sudden death, caught in between purgatory and a hard place. The fact of the matter is, were roommates bro. Roommates.\"\n\nDave regained his composer finally absorbing this absurd situation.\n\n\"How did you die? Were you murdered?\" Dave asked squinting his eyes at the ghost.\n\n\"Nah bro.\" The ghost said with a chuckle. \"Me and Brylar got so ripped one night, psh I choked on my vomit while making love to a random chick. Didn't even know her name bro! Come to think of it I didn't know mine at the time either.\"\n\nSabrina grabbed onto Dave's leg, she was witnessing the demon spawn as well.\n\n\"Cute kid by the way.\"\n\n\"Thanks.\" Dave replied rubbing her back.\n\n\"So here's the deal brah.\" The ghost said snapping his fingers, causing a contract to appear. \"We can make this work. Just sign this paper.\"\n\n\"What's it for?\"\n\n\"Pretty much a deed agreeing that you will not get a priest and banish me out of this house. In return I will not haunt you or anything like that.\"\n\nDave looked at the document, the spectral words hardly legible. He looked up at the spectral blob of a face.\n\n\"We will live in peace?\"\n\n\"That's the agreement my man.\"\n\nDave grabbed the ghost pen from the other hand and signed the contract. It vanished and the ghost began to laugh.\n\n\"What's so funny?\"\n\n\"Nothing. Only that you just signed a paper saying I can possess you.\"\n\nBefore Dave could react, the ghost hellishly enter David through his mouth. Sabrina screamed as her dad hit he floor.\n\nDave fumbled the phone as he got to his feet shaking, spectral ooze dripping from his mouth.\n\nDave began to dial the phone, it began to ring.\n\n\"Hello?\" Someone answered.\n\n\"Brylar bro.\" The ghost said within Dave's body. \"Get a keg. We are getting fucking ripped tonight.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: You have a generic super power bumped up to an illogical extreme, such as super strength that can pick up anything, super speed that can outrun concepts, etc" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They call them 'raw' powers.\n\nEveryone is used to the normal few abilities that sometimes pop up in babies born in the last century or so. Every once in a while you'll see a baby knock over the stunned midwife with a light swing of his arm, or blink and see her sitting, quite happily, across the room from her shocked mother.\n\nThese people grow up to be, on the whole, regular members of society. Maybe more of an eye is kept on them- as is only necessary when they are so much more potent than those around them. Maybe if they start to behave strangely, they find their way to proper treatment, be that therapy or a cell, more quickly than the average person.\n\nProcesses were developed, fears were proven to be unfounded, and eventually things returned to relative normalcy. Gifted individuals were strongly advised against trying to 'help' law enforcement agencies with their powers. They were told to expect to be treated as no better than the criminals they tried to apprehend, and so vigilantism was surprisingly kept to a minimum. A new equilibrium was reached.\n\nOne morning towards the end of winter, a new kind of child was birthed. The teams kept on hand at hospitals to keep watch for the appearance of any abilities did a quick analysis of the newborn, and deciding she seemed harmless, left the child to the care of the nurses. Upon their return, they found the child sitting quite happily in front of a swarm of nurses, their numbers no doubt added to by concerned coworkers looking in to check what was happening. The nurses were completely mindless, wiped blank to become the vessels of the innocent looking baby's slightest whim.\n\nIt was recorded, later, that the baby had been born with a form of mind control. In the past, the only instances of this power had manifested as a simple inclination towards suggestiveness. One boy had been able to simply tell someone what he wanted them to do, and they would have no choice but to comply; his parents were faced with a challenge to rival any of the accomplishments mankind have boasted of in the past, passing shockingly well, despite the odds.\n\nThe newborn we are currently discussing was like nothing ever seen before though.\n\nWhile mind control used to be suggestion, this was a complete dominance over her fellow creature. Without any conscious effort, her mind infected those around her. Their hopes, dreams, memories and desires were obliterated; instead of a peek inside their minds, the young girl tore them open, leaving nothing behind.\n\nOf course she couldn't be allowed to live. Once it was understood what had happened, the precautions and processes we mentioned came into effect. The hospital was shut off from the world. Those who escaped before the child had turned her pure little mind onto them believed they were on the receiving end of some kind of miracle. Those inside the building, had they been people enough to even warrant the use of plurality in describing them, would have felt rather differently.\n\nThe power was snuffed out, crisis averted, and life went on.\n\nHumans, powerful or not, have an inclination to ignoring problems that they can convince themselves aren't pressing enough to receive immediate intervention. The incident was called a one off, a lucky escape. People counted their lucky stars. Time went on.\n\nLater, in Sweden, another baby was born. This one required less intervention. He was recorded as being able to turn invisible. His mother had been holding him when, quite suddenly, he started to fade away. Eventually nothing was left visible of the baby apart from his clothes: quite a common occurrence, as invisibility goes. All that remained to be seen was whether he would be one of the lucky ones, able to become visible again on command, or he was doomed to remain formless. However, instead of reappearing, the fading seemed to continue. The mother described holding him as 'feeling sand running through her fingers, the shape in her arms disintegrating, becoming lighter and lighter until nothing remained.'\n\nInvisible was a poor description. Incorporeal may have been more appropriate: after his physical body left, the cries of her child followed the mother around for years. The child even learned to speak, albeit slightly later than he might have. The mother describes his presence as a comfort, keeping her company around the house, but one fails to see how it couldn't have been unnerving for her.\n\nThis was the case that made the public take interest: even though the power was essentially harmless, it was still basically unstoppable. There was no government agent, secret or weapon that could have touched the boy who was born with 'raw invisibility' as the called it. He was outside of the rules that caged other men. Unsurprisingly the general public failed to see the downside or sympathise with his condition: they were far too concerned for their own futures and safety, of course.\n\nThe first child we mentioned was eventually referred to as 'raw mind control,' somewhat unpoetically, to match her spiritual siblings name. Humanity waited, a cocktail of fear, apprehension and envy bubbling around its core, to see what power would come next.\n\nNone of the powers were new, really. When speed came along, the child, despite being far beyond the human capacity for comprehension when she moved, she was still essentially just very fast. People expected speed to be easier to manage. Teams were assembled from the highest branches of government to try to determine just how much of a threat she posed. One team, deciding to put an end to this worry work, moved in on the poor childs house. They found her cross legged on the carpet, playing with a doll in her night gown. Thinking themselves unseen, they attempted to assassinate the girl. The instant the trigger was pulled, the girl was gone. This of course was unknown to the team of soldiers, who had simultaneously been quite simply removed from existence. Their lives, futures and very births, all unwritten in an instant.\n\nI am able to tell you this only as your omniscient narrator. I could explain the trickery that such immense speed plays with time, and exactly what little Viola did in those men's pasts to prevent them from ever reaching their presents, but it would be pointless. You can't understand such things without experiencing them first hand.\n\nWhen I was born, mere moments ago in normal time, but long enough for me to understand and foresee everything that has been or will come to be, it was clear to me that I must be 'raw knowledge.' The power that each of us has been cursed with has forbidden us from living as you do. These words are floating across my mind as I look into the eyes of the midwife that is still observing me for the first time.\n\nI am sad, because I am clever enough to know the very extent to which this all encompassing knowledge will affect my life.\n\nBut I am glad too, because I know that once they know, they will not let me live long enough to despite it." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You've coasted your way through a luxurious life by relying on your ability to read minds. All of that seems pointless when you encounter what sounds like multiple minds within one person. They're looking in your direction now." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As anyone would tell you, life is tough and everyone has to do whatever they can to survive. Bending societal and social rules is mild compared to what others will do feed himself and family. Not that Charlie felt that anything he was doing was wrong, he hadn't even realized he was the only one who could read minds until his early teenage years. As his friends liked to say, he was a lucky guy, not only that but charming and confident. To the contrary, Charlie simply just spoke his mind, and he considered himself a happy-go-lucky guy.\n\nWearing a brand new, shiny and silky, jet black tuxedo, Charlie walked through the entry way of The Chariot casino. Two large, bald bouncers, with chain tattoos spiraling around their faces and out of view under their suits, nodded at Charlie. He was a regular and well liked. He took note of that, he would have to move cities as well as casinos to avoid unwanted attention.\n\nHe waltzed into the main lobby, several crystal chandlers gave the room a warm glow, and red drapes hung at every corner, giving the room a sense of royalty. However this wasn't the case, men of every metal and creed crowded the room, crowded the gambling games. There was every way to lose money imaginable in that grandiose room, from simple slots to a large caged in dog fight at the further end of the hall.\n\nCharlie ignored most everything and made a b-line to his personal favorite, Blackjack Poker. As he grabbed his chair he noted several familiar faces, and two unfamiliar ones. One wasn't noteworthy, with dirty nails and in casual wear, he'd most likely loose all the money he had after the night was through. The other was, hard to read. He was wearing a simple suit and he physically wasn't anything to brag about but his presence, at least seemed to Charlie, was almost dangerous. While the other gentlemen were mentally buzzing like bees, thinking of women, winnings and what was on TV, that man was as silent as the dead. Charlie mentally shrugged, he'd encountered such a phenomenon before, certain martial masters and monks had the mental fortitude to unknowingly conceal their inner selves.\n\n\"Is there room here gentlemen,\" Charlie exclaimed. \"You just finished a game correct?\" He knew they had, by several grumbling and complaining to themselves mentally but Charlie liked to be polite.\n\n\"Of course my good man Charlie, here sit by me if you please,\" replied Mr. Gore. Albert Thoth Gore was a large man with an atrociously extreme, red handlebar mustache. He himself was actually a co-leader of one of the cities notorious gangs, The Merry Men to be precise, and Charlie had let him win previously, angering a man like that never leads to a happy ending.\n\n\"I thank you sir Albert,\" Charlie graciously replied. \"Lets get going shall we?\"\n\nThe casual man dealt the cards and then the real game began. Looking at and considering his cards was only the at the forefront of his mind. The rest of him, almost a separate part of him was listening and picking at his opponents minds. Mr. Casual, almost a royal flush, lucky isn't he? Mr. Gore had a pair of fives, serves him right. The other two familiar faces had bust. However there was still the situation of Mr. Serious. Being a mind reader Charlie was almost naturally an expert of reading body language as well. But he couldn't figure the guy out! He was sitting as if he were at dinner, nothing gave a hint to what was behind his eyes.\n\nThis annoyed Charlie, he wanted to go out with a bang at his last night at The Chariot. He focused on Mr. Serious as hard as he could, trying to pierce that fickle mental barrier. Charlie almost raised his eyebrows in surprise. Mr. Serious finally had a reaction, he looked like he was straining, as if he was trying to flex a muscle or hold his breathe. Charlie pushed harder, he was almost there and suddenly a chorus of voices filled his existence. He covered his ears yet blood still ran from them, in between his fingers and staining his suit collars.\n\nHe fell upon the floor, his vision was flickering and over the droll of voices he heard the strongest voice almost shout out:\n\n\"Boys he can hear us! That's no normal psychic, not if he can hear spirit guides\" Mr. Gore and all the other table members stood over him now, their minds frantic, barely audible over the deafening roar of Mr. Serious' head. Their looks of concern made Charlie's fear accelerate. Oblivious to everyone, Mr. Serious was staring him straight in the eyes and he was smiling.\n\n\"Good find everyone, he'll be an excellent addition to the roster.\" The loudest voice shouted. Struggling to keep his eyes open Charlie finally succumbed to the dark." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: The Villain's apprentice is sitting, watching from the plane as the villain's secret base burn below them. The hero's sidekick walks over and covers them with their cape as they cuddle together. \"It's on auto pilot. Do you regret killing them?\" \"No, we are finally free, from both of them. You?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The base burned below them, the fires raging on and the occasional explosive plume still danced in the distance. The plane fought the turbulence and settled down after a minute. A young woman walked down the plane’s aisle dressed in thin, metallic armor. She had a gray faux fur blanket in her arms, her dad had never cared for real fur.\n\n“It’s for dipshits and animals are incredible,” he’d said on more than one occasion.\n\nShe threw the blanket over the boy that was sitting in one of the seats and she sat next to him, putting an arm over his shoulders. The boy was shivering, she rubbed his shoulders.\n\n“You doing okay, Colt?” she asked.\n\nThe boy shook his head. His skin was green, a remnant of his last transformation when he took the body of the Goblin King.\n\n“I’ll be fine in a minute,” the boy said. “Just need some quiet.”\n\nShe sat by him, rubbing his shoulders, and waiting for the right time to bring up what they’d done as the plane’s engines softly roared on.\n\nThe boy exhaled, his skin had turned back to normal. He let out several more sighs and looked up at the girl next to him.\n\n“I’m okay now,” Colt said. “What about you, Blythe?”\n\n“Meh,” Blythe said.\n\n“Do you regret killing them?” Colt asked.\n\n“Do I regret killing our biological parents?” Blythe said. “Yeah, I regret it a little bit. But they had it coming to them.”\n\nColt tried his best to smile at the joke, but his eyes started to well up instead.\n\n“Colt,” she said. “They were fighting each other for no reason.”\n\nHe held up one of his hands, the other was rubbing his eyes. He nodded.\n\n“I know,” he said. “But it still feels bad.”\n\n“I loved them too, Colt.” Blythe said. “But Dad was an asshole and Mom was..”\n\n“Mom was mom.” she added.\n\nColt nodded again.\n\n“What do we do now then?” Colt asked.\n\n“I’ll turn myself in,” Blythe said.\n\nColt’s skin started to crisp up, it took the color of dark charcoal and the plane started to fall.\n\n“Colt,” Blythe said. “Breathe, buddy. They’re not going to do anything to me. I’ll tell them dad killed mom and I killed dad. It’ll be fine. Now try your best to stay still.”\n\nBlythe put an arm behind her back, turning the metal sleeve into a thin needle. She pricked Colt in the forehead. It pricked him and a drop of blood formed when she’d stabbed him, she pulled out the needle gently and she exhaled.\n\nThe boy started to heave in breaths, his skin changed from gray to pale white, and the plane fixed itself.\n\n“We’ll be okay, Colt.” she said, she rubbed his shoulder again. “We did what we had to. You know what Dad was going to do and you know what Mom was willing to do to stop him. We can explain everything to the bureau.”\n\nColt nodded.\n\n“Can I have a hug?” he asked.\n\n“Of course you can, moron.” she said." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: The Clergy hates your eccentric ways, but you remain the best Exorcist and you love your job. You're only called upon to chase the strongest, fiercest demons. But your prayers are just for show, what really terrifies the spirits away is witnessing a demon powerful enough to take human shape..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The young, naive man sat next to ‘Father’ Geniol. The Vatican had assigned him to be the father’s latest apprentice. Daniel had just recently taken on the vestments of a holy man but quickly found himself in trouble for his ‘carnal desires.’ His choices were to suffer excommunication or to become the apprentice to the Father here. Daniel took the later knowing while it was almost a guaranteed death sentence, at least he would be welcome into the kingdom of Heaven. It would… just be a little quicker than he had originally planned, thought Daniel.\n\nThe Father took a swig from his holy water font(?) “Father did you just take a drink of holy water?”, asked Daniel. Turning to Daniel and no longer looking at the road ahead, the scent of whiskey overwhelmed Daniel. “Yeap, thank our Lord Jameson. Amen” Daniel was appalled at this blasphemy but held his tongue least he earn yet another black eye from the Father.\n\nBarely missing an oncoming truck, the Father swerved the car somehow sensing the danger without at glance. “Come now ‘child’ if the son of man’s blood is wine a nip or two of alcohol only brings us closer to him.” Daniel could only bite his tongue harder and may also have wet himself.\n\nLooking a bit disappointed the Father put the font back into his front pocket and again looked at the road. Daniel had witnessed the power of this holy man next to him. His aura was palpable when he stepped into a room as he would quickly slur some prayers in Latin, Greek and other languages. These prayers seemed to seal the room and cause the demons to reel in fear. The Father would then approach the demon who would scream and plead. Then with a simple touch the Father would exorcise the abomination.\n\nThe Father and Daniel were on their way to a mansion where something powerful had taken hold of the manor’s youngest. Whatever it was had slain a fellow priest and drove another mad. It was such cases that the Vatican would send Father Geniol and by extension his apprentice.\n\nArriving later that day, the Father quickly gathered his possessions and practically dragged Daniel inside. “Are we not going to rest and pray,” asked Daniel. “No rest for the wicked,” came the reply from the Father with an uncharacteristic chuckle. They were ushered upstairs to a room with a door barely on its hinges. The Father removed his Font (the same one as he had previously drank from) and made a big spectacle of splashing the door frame before the worried parents.\n\nAs if on cue the occupant of the room started screeching and scratching. Daniel thought for a second and realized this one spoke Latin. Previously these demons spoke either an unfamiliar language or what he assumed was the language of Hell. Quickly entering the door the Father started approaching the possessed child who was in the corner. Daniel heard the demon shout in Latin. “Devourer please come no closer, let me leave this child.” The small hands of the child pointed at him. “Devourer why do you want to eat me, that corrupted man’s soul would be much more satisfying. Just leave me…”\n\nThe Father finished approaching the child and with a forceful shove, the child fell limply to the floor. The sense of foreboding emanating from the fragile frame gone. Thinking back at the other exorcisms, Daniel realized that every one of the possessed had gestured similarly in his direction. He had thought they were pointing to the door but no it was him…\n\nDaniel felt behind him at the doorknob and quickly retracted his hand… it was scalding hot. Father Geniol seeing the understanding in Daniels face, started to approach him." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You encountered a figure who turned out to be Death. Challenged to a game/contest of your choice for a wager. If you win, you get to live longer. If you lose..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The thing that really surprised me most was Death doesn’t look like Death. If you asked most people, they would describe the typical skeletal grim reaper scythe and all. But sitting before me in a nondescript suit was a man. Someone, I or anyone else would pass without a second glance. A nonentity, a background character. Like a busker playing music on the subway. At most, a glance is all you’d really give them.\n\nI was sipping at my coffee when he sat down. It gave me a warm smile, one that put me at ease.\n\n“Hello there”, he said with that smile.\n\nMy first thought was that it was some kind of evangelist. Sit down and tell me about one saviour or another.\n\n“I’m sorry to inform you of this, but you are going to die”, he continued with that same blase smile.\n\nI thought it was an interesting approach to recruit me to join his religion. Join or die. Far more interesting than the usual fire and brimstone lot.\n\n“How so?” I asked, deciding it’d be amusing to play along.\n\n“I’m sorry to say a very unwell man has laced the sugar in this establishment along with many others with Potassium Cyanide”, he answered as if he were commenting on the weather.\n\nThis caused me to pause. Was this guy insane to suggest something like this? He must be some kind of psycho and wanted to watch his victim squirm.\n\n“Are you that man?” I asked.\n\n“Oh no, I am Death”, he answered, waving his hand as if to waft away the suggestion.\n\n“Death?” I asked, hoping to keep him calm.\n\n“Indeed I am he. I am known by many names, everything from Thanatos to the Reaper, but I prefer to keep it casual”, he answered, resting his head on his hand.\n\n“You don’t look like Death”, I pointed out.\n\n“Oh, and how should I look?” he asked cocking an eyebrow.\n\n“Well, you know… Big, skeletal, black cloak, fondness of farming equipment”, I answered.\n\n“Very well”, he said, his voice echoing through my very soul. Standing up, I saw a black mist start to envelop him as it swirled from his feet. Reaching to the ceiling, he was entirely concealed from view. I could feel my heart pounding now. A skeletal hand holding a scythe reached out of the smoke with a reverberating boom he smacked the handle against the floor. At the moment of the strike, the smoke was gone and there stood in all his terrible glory was The Grim Reaper I knew.\n\n“Is this more befitting my status?” his cold, echoing voice asked.\n\n“Y..yes”, I stuttered. “But I preferred the original form if it’s all the same to you”, I nervously added.\n\nThe skeletal figure moved to sit down, and the moment he did, there was a small explosion of black smoke. There sat with his smile again was the suit-wearing man.\n\n“Couldn’t agree more”, he said with a toothy grin.\n\n“So this is it? I’m dead then?” I asked almost pleadingly.\n\n“Well, yes and no”, Death answered in an uncertain tone.\n\n“What do you mean?” I asked.\n\n“Well…” he paused, “I’m sure you know the trope challenge me to a game, so I’m offering it to you”, he answered with a salesman smile.\n\n“Why?” I asked, confused about what I did to deserve that chance.\n\nDeath just sighed as he sipped his coffee.\n\n“This poisoning thing has me busy as anything at this very moment, so I thought to take a break. Why you, though? No reason your name happened to be next on the list when the fancy struck,” he said with a shrug.\n\n“What are the terms then?” I asked.\n\n“You pick the game; You win you live, I win you die”, he answered.\n\n“What about a draw?” I asked.\n\n“Hmm, I suppose we keep going till a winner is decided”, Death answered, offering his hand to shake.\n\n“You accept then?” He asked.\n\n“Yes”, I answered, taking his hand. The moment we came in contact, it felt like countless ribbons and threads bound our hands together. Looking around at my surroundings, everything was frozen still.\n\n“So what’s the game? Yahtzee? Please tell me it’s not Fortnite”, Death asked.\n\nI thought for a moment while I could feel his gaze piercing into my very soul. That’s when an idea struck me.\n\n“Tik Tak Toe”, I answered.\n\n“Noughts and Crosses?” Death asked, confused.\n\n“Yes”, I answered.\n\n“Very well,” Death said, taking out a bundle of papers and a pen.\n\nThe game ended in a tie. The next again ended in a tie. Death could never gain the victory as I kept going for the draw. I was dragging this out for as long as possible. What seemed like hours, if not days, passed, and neither of us could gain the upper hand.\n\n“Dammit!” Death roared, slamming the pen down on the table.\n\n“Another?” I asked with a grin.\n\n“I’ve wasted enough of this millisecond, and I doubt you will give up playing to draw. So you know what screw it; I give up you win”, Death said, moving the papers back into his case.\n\n“Does this mean?” I asked hopefully.\n\n“Yes, yes, but I remind you it just means I won’t take your soul today, and you still have Potassium Cyanide in your system, that will hurt like hell when I restart things”, Death said.\n\n“Wait, what?!” I shouted as he snapped his fingers.\n\nI was in the news after that. The sole survivor of the worst poisoning in the countries history. I suffered like hell while recovering. The doctors said it must’ve been a bad batch of poison, and I should count myself lucky. Though I knew the truth, It wasn’t luck but sheer doggedness; that is why I’m alive. When I next see him, though, I’m sure he will make sure it’s a game I can’t endlessly draw on." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: The Characters in the story are aware of plot armor and make good use of it by inserting themselves into more and more dangerous situations. Unfortunately the author dies and a new author is tasked with finishing the story. The new author is G. R. R. Martin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Ladies, follow me! Sour went this way!” Candy yelled, beckoning the rest of the Sweet Forces into the cavern with her.\n\n“Oh no, this place is r-r-really s-spooky,” Syrup stammered; fearing for her safety as she slowly made her way deeper into the caves.\n\n“Urgh,” Candy groaned. “Don’t you remember? The author of our tale loves us too much and won’t let us die. We’re being protected by her plot armour”\n\nSyrup thought back to the previous times they’ve landed themselves in danger on their quest and made it out unscathed. She remembered that one time when she and the others had been trapped by Sour in a vacuum chamber and were slowly being suffocated, yet Lolly came in the nick of time and broke the barrier, rescuing them all and allowing them to emerge victorious. There was also that other time when Sour had actually created a Godzilla-esque kaiju monster and unleashed it upon Tokyo, Even though the Sweet Forces took the gargantuan reptile on without any outside help, they emerged victorious and unscathed.\n\nEach memory of the years Syrup spent fighting alongside her comrades from adolescence well into adulthood filled her with more confidence, and she too quickly realised that she - no, the entire gang - were being protected by 230mm thick plot armour.\n\n“You know what, you’re right,” she smiled. “We have each other and together, we can make it through anything!”\n\n“Okay, that was a bit too sentimental for my tastes,” said Liquorice. “But you’re right. We can make it through pretty much anything.”\n\nHISSSSSSSS!\n\n“What was that?” Lolly asked. The tone of her voice was more concerned rather than scared; like she too realised she was in no real danger and could face anything.\n\n“Hmm, sounds like a spider,” Liquorice replied. “They’re icky things. I really don’t want to go near one, even if our writers have made us invincible.”\n\n“Fine,” Gum boasted, pumped that she was going to get to fight. “Then we’ll take care of it for you!”\n\n“Sweet Forces, assemble!”\n\nThe girls charged further into the caves, ready to face the spider head on. As they moved further inwards, the cavern walls were increasing littered with webs, before at last, they came across a chamber with the spider waiting for them. Their foe towered over them, standing at least twice as tall as the other ladies.\n\n“SWEET ARROW!” Gum shouted, charging up a bubblegum arrow and shooting it straight at the spider moments later. Though the arrow landed a direct hit, it didn’t seem to have any effect.\n\n“What?”\n\n“SWEET HAMMER!” Candy yelled, conjuring a hammer that stood six feet tall made entirely of hard candy. “Take this,” she roared, as she took a swing at the spider, which the beast managed to dodge with little effort.\n\nHISSSSSSSS!\n\nThe spider pounced onto Candy, overpowering her and pinning her down with its gargantuan legs, before sinking its teeth straight into her neck and injecting a neurotoxin into her body. The spider’s venom had immediate results and left her motionless. With its prey paralysed, the gigantic beast shot a web deeper into the caverns and rappeled itself away at incredible speed, taking Candy with it.\n\nThe rest of the Sweet Forces watched in both disbelief and horror. Their leader had been incapacitated by an enormous spider that they could not even harm and had been dragged away into the depths of the caverns, probably to become the beast’s next meal.\n\n“But how... how did this happen? I thought Akane loved us too much?” Lolly sobbed.\n\nLiquorice pulled out the Journal of Truth in her satchel - a magical book that could tell the future - and started reading through it. She noticed that major changes had been made to their tale and shuddered in horror as she read through each of them. “Umm, ladies. I have some really bad news,” she said. “It’s our author Akane, she passed away recently. But the news gets a lot worse than that.“\n\n“What? Seriously? How could this get any worse?” Gum protested. “Our leader’s dead, we don’t have a clue where Sour went, and our plot armour’s gone!”\n\n“It’s the author who’s taken over our story... It’s George R. R. Martin,” Liquorice shrieked. “We’re fucked!”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You and your partner bought a pair of rings that let you feel each heartbeat from anywhere in the world. Your partners dies and you bury them with the ring. Years go by and you havnt gotten over them. Out of nowhere they appear at your doorstep... still wearing the ring. But you feel no pulse." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I still remember when we first became 'we'. We were in a restaurant in Paris and he said, \"We don't care for the wine\".I had liked it, but Derek wasn't a man who'd let his boy drink swill. \"Sorry,\" he said to the waiter, \"I don't mean to be rude, but I love this boy. Love. And I just was not aware that grapes could piss. And nor was I aware I'd offended you so dearly that you would see fit to serve it to us\".\n\nWe left, no tip, and I ignored the way I felt for the way his hands made me feel. We strutted through the streets in drizzling rain. The European summer was so refreshing. And I locked eyes with him.\n\n\"Love?\"\n\n\"Love...\" he responded.\n\nThings were good, but they were strict. Dinner was to be prepared for Derek at a set time. Even if he were late the meal must not be. I was required to take regular inspection of my phone, body and possessions.\n\n\"You would do well, my love, to lose a few pounds. It does nothing for you to be rotund.\"\n\nMy friend Fiona said, \"I could kill him,\" when I told her. Yet, she can't be blamed for her naivete. She was never in love. Only lust.I told Derek what she said and that I wasn't sure how to feel, but alas I ignored how I felt and only cared for how he made me feel.\"She reminds me of a sketch artist,\" he said pouring us a drink.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Enamoured with fleeting beauty. She sees a butterfly and forgets the caterpillar. She ignores the cocoon\".\n\n\"I'm a little lost Derry...\"\n\n\"You always were, that is how I found you,\" he said kissing my forehead, \"sketch artists draw what they see and do so quickly. I always cared more for the painter or the sculptor. They must live with their art. It transcends time. It is a living and breathing thing.\"\n\n\"Where does this apply to me?\"\n\n\"You're my art. I met the most beautiful being of potential in the world. And I said to myself that could be the best husband. He just needs the right kind of love. Tough. Stern. Focused. I saw to craft you like the cocoon does the caterpillar... and look, my little butterfly, how far you've flown...\"\n\nI cut off Fiona after that. It wasn't personal, but Derek told me that not only was she anchoring me to who I was and what she wanted me to be, but I was making her jealous. She was miserable seeing how much I'd grown. We got married and the rings Derek found were so special. I still wear mine.\n\nI felt his heart every beat, every beating. Every single thump in his chest.\n\nAnd when he got mad I knew. When he got hard I could tell. When he cheated I felt the rush and I cried as the rhythm haunted me.\n\nAnd if I ever took it off, to spare myself, then he'd be there and he'd know.\n\n\"You don't like competition?\"\n\n\"Derry, please?\"\n\n\"You know a chess grandmaster isn't anything without someone to play with. You've got to understand that I come home to you every single night.\"\n\n\"That doesn't make it better...\"\n\n\"Of course it does. Would you be sad if I left?\"\n\n\"Yes, are you leaving?\"\n\n\"No. See how that would be worse? if I left?\n\nSo when I come home and we are together then you, my dear, are having it better\".\n\n\"It doesn't feel like a good thing,\" I said to him.\n\n\"Then let me make it feel like a good thing,\" he said moving toward me.\n\nThe rings stayed beating. I felt the heart until I didn't. August ninth of 2006 I felt the stillness.\n\nDerek was found dead in a hotel room. Minimal damage, but a sign of struggle. Murder.\n\nUnsolved.\n\nI buried him wearing his ring. And I felt nothing. I felt it burn into my soul. I woke up screaming of his rot and decay.\n\nI heard his voice say butterfly.\n\nAnd then 9 years go by. I see Derek as fresh as the day he died standing on my doorstep.\n\n\"didn't it ever occur to you where I got the rings?\"\n\nI poured him a glass of water as he sat down. The lights dimmed and the shadows grew. The water turned darker and dirtier as he fondled the glass. Derek didn't rot. The wood of the table began to wither and char.\n\nI saw the paint peal. \"Butterfly,\" he said.\n\nI looked and in the mirror behind him, I saw my hair turn white. My eyes yellowed. My skin crease and sag.\n\nPaintings age but the artist lives forever. Legacy transcends time.\n\nI felt afraid, but then I looked at him. And I felt what he wanted me to feel." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: Dragons are real. In the modern day we accept them as a natural phenomenon. They are dangerous but vital to the ecosystem. The presence of a stray dragon can be equivocal of a natural disaster such as a tornado, earthquake, or tsunami to a city. You are the capital’s Chief firefighter." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“They’re not monsters!”\n\n“They’re just confused animals!”\n\n“They don’t mean any harm!”\n\nThey haven’t seen what I’ve seen, heard the screams of any apartment complex caught in the crossfire of a dragon’s whim. Most people hear “dragon” and think your regular fire and brimstone image. No one wants to think about those carted off to the hospital for extreme frostbite from a winter roar or the slow torment of an acid splash across a community park.\n\nI, Chief Cadmus proposed the Apollo Initiative to obtain legal force to dispatch potential dragon threats to prevent future disasters. This may have been my biggest mistake because it proved my theories, they’re not just scared animals, they’re calculated predators capable of retaliation and seeking retribution.\n\nWe started hard and fast after receiving enough funding for the Cetus Skiffs. Massive hovering warships versatile enough to close in for close combat. My studies led me to believe that a dragon’s breath will always beat you in a ranged battle so the plan is to get close enough to break through their incredible scales. For this to work however we designed Heracles Claws for the Cetus Skiffs to not only attach to a dragon mid flight but cause puncturing wounds with a firm bladed grip. Although as they’re numbers dwindled the attacks became more precise and vicious on the innocent. I lead us to our beckoning doom.\n\nWe’re not the apex predators, maybe not even the smartest. We think and fantasize about what’s possible like good guys always winning but reality has no tolerance for daydreaming and hope. We are not in charge of the planet, the planet is. Mother Earth gifted these beasts with the power to erase and start the world anew. Who was I to attempt their destruction, their extinction? All the dragons that seemed to tolerate us and even protect us grew disgusted with our tactics. I think it changed when the Elder dragon helping us hunt the savage younglings grew disgusted with the Apollo Initiative’s results. Once he understood our cause and wanted a balance. These beasts can speak to your conscience, I understood when he was on our side and I remember the day he decided he wasn’t.\n\nA young Cetus pilot named Jason was on a roll. He came upon a local nest that was causing younglings to constantly spawn and attacking the surrounding territory for sport. It became more than just a sport for him, it became a sick game. They may be dragon’s but they’re blood is just as red as ours, their insides similar even. I watched him dispatch the Nest Mother in glorious aerial combat. She fell from the sky like a glittering comet of sheer force and power. The ground split with her impact and the aftershock came with Jason’s showboat landing. Let’s be clear, the Nest Mother was dead, we all knew. With the Elder Dragon in our ranks, Jason made eye contact with the Elder and disemboweled the Nest Mother with the Heracles Claws. No one wanted to see strewn intestines there, we just wanted it to be over and go home to our families. The Elder flew off in a sad rage screaming sad swan songs. Then another sound creeped close.\n\nThree younglings, no, babies cautiously crawled to their Nest Mother. Curiously they nudged at her chin and wings in confusion at why her elegant light had dimmed. I swear a chill crept up my spine the moment they realized what happen but before they could cry, Jason moved in to dispatch in a bloody ribbon dance of speed and hate. I had no time to collect myself of the consequences of our previous actions before the area became sprayed in Jason’s grudge. This is when the end of the world came.\n\nThunder cracked the sky before the Elder descending on Jason, turning him into mangled metal and a red mist that filled the air. The Elder looked at me in disappointment, locked with my eyes with grimace , lifted his head with a heavy bellow that took the air out of my lungs like a vacuum, and unleashed hellfire. The tower of fire plumed like several nuclear bombs into the atmosphere, nothing man has ever seen, the heat searing flesh, and leveling structures in a shockwave of force. I was unlucky enough to survive after being thrown into rubble. Now I watch as the nests of all dragons descend on this world for its hatred. Laying waste with the same elements that make this very world. I realize once I locked eyes with the Elder, that I was left alive on purpose, to watch the advent of dragons after my egregious endeavors, I’m sorry everyone." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Everyone received a number ranking them on their productivity to humanity. Every month they update. Today is April 1, yesterday you were number 1382947344, today you are number 2, right behind your 7 year old son with autism." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Before anything, there was the ranking system. The system ranked each person by how productive they were to humanity. It was something the government made with the dawn of civilization, but never released. Everyone was ranked, and white men didn’t dominate the top 100. They didn’t want to explicitly tell women and men that they were equal, or that all races were equal- so they didn’t. It was the best kept secret for years, until someone from the inside leaked the whole list. The country was outraged. People who were doctors and scientists were at the bottom of the list, some of the homeless population was on the top- the whole world order was changed overnight.\n\nPeople on the top of the list were praised as gods. They were brought to the castle, a now famous mansion that held the top ten most productive people. For all others, they were free to live however they wanted. Of course, your number signified your employment status, and relationship status, too. No one knew what the last number was, so anything under 5 billion meant social death. I, along with my son and husband were at a comfortable 1,382,947,344. My husband was about a hundred over me, my autistic son about a hundred under me. I was happy with our arrangement, as sometimes I went over my husband, sometimes he went over me, but never more than a few hundred. Henry seemed to always stay at 1,382,947,244, exactly. I always figured it was some weird thing with the system, but he was happy, and so were we.\n\nUntil April 1rst came around. Henry and I shot up from our billions to number one and number two. We were now the most productive people on the earth- with Henry above me. It wasn’t uncommon to be ranked below your child, so it wasn’t exactly a shock, but it still hurt. I didn’t understand it. My husband, Bill, was still in the billions. He didn’t shoot up with us. What didn’t make sense was the fact that Henry and I didn’t do anything differently than usual the past month. And now all of a sudden we’re one and two?\n\n“It’ll be okay, Jack. I’m sure you two will be back home next month. Get me some souvenirs while you’re up there, okay?” My husband tried to console me. But I was still extremely anxious about the whole thing. What do they do to them up there? No one ever questioned it, and once a new number one was picked, the old one was forgotten.\n\n“Yeah,” I replied, trying to convince myself. I was worried enough about myself, but what about Henry? His whole routine will be disrupted, and he’ll have to start over for this entire month. The consistency of his ranking kept him pretty calm- this would ruin him. A knock on the door interrupted my train of thought.\n\n“Mr. Jack Renning? You’ve seen the report. Please gather your things, along with Henry, and let’s go.” A gruff voice vibrated through the closed door. I knew that it’d be quick, so I had packed up everything beforehand.\n\n“Yes, we’re coming. Henry is-“\n\n“Open the door, sir.” I followed the command, and a burly man stepped right in, and grabbed Henry and I. Henry protested, but the man just shushed him, throwing us both into the backseat of his van. We drove for a long time. The seatbelts around us clacked against the metal of the van, and the man had some sort of classical music playing. Why were the two most important people in the world being treated so badly? I didn’t understand. Finally, we stopped.\n\n“Out.” The man commanded, and we followed obediently. Around us was desert, with a small house about 20 yards away. It was a comfortable temperature, sure, but it was the desert. There was nothing around here for miles. “This is your home for the next few days. Do not try to escape. Do not try to make contact with others. Either of these actions will be handled with early extermination.”\n\n“Sir, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what’s happening. I thought we went to some sort of mansion? I don’t mean-“\n\nHe cut me off with a hearty laugh. “I can’t believe they still feed you that bull! No! You don’t get a mansion, you get this house. One word, my man. Overpopulation. You think the government would rate people on their productivity, and then actually release that list? Nuh-uh. This is the kill list- the computer picks for us. It’s based on a lot of factors, but it’s mostly random.”\n\n“What?” That was all I could get out, horrified by this news. The government had been killing people randomly to stop overpopulation?! And ranking them, making them believe that the more productive they are, the more accepted they’d be- just to randomly throw them to the bottom, or to the top, to be killed?\n\n“I know, I know. It’s pretty messed up. I saw my own sister thrown in this hell-hole. And before you ask, yes, I am heartless. Yes, I am a psycho, and yes, I enjoyed seeing her die. We’re the only kind of people they could trust to hire.” He revealed, reveling in my horror. Henry screamed. I cried. And he laughed, he just stood there and laughed.\n\n“Pick your poison- or not,” he chuckled, presenting an array of weapons, including vials and syringes. “We let the top two choose their way to go, the rest just get a surprise. You don’t have to pick right now, we like to make the others jealous. We have a few days for them to come. You stay here, until you don’t.”\n\nI couldn’t move a muscle. There was no way out of this. There was no way to save Henry. I just stood there.\n\n“Ooookay. I guess you’re choosing later, then. I’d suggest getting to the house. But it doesn’t matter to me when you die.” And with that, the man turned back to the van, got in, and started it. He revved the engine, did a doughnut, creating a storm of sand, and drove away.\n\nBy the time he was gone, I was on my knees, and Henry stood by me, frozen.\n\nThey were going to kill us. That was a fact. I needed to save my son. That was another fact, and I’d do anything to make that happen. I took a deep breath, and got up. I need to save Henry. I wiped the sand off of my pants, and took Henry to the house.\n\nIf I was going to die, it would be protecting him." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 900-1000 words. Prompt: A priest turns an ocean into Holy water. Demonic creatures start crawling out of the sea." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The messiah had been born. He had lived and died for us, hung upon a tree. We should have been healed. We should have been pure.\n\nYet there was still rot within us, still a canker gnawing at the hearts of men. We still sinned. Innocents were slaughtered, greedy hands stole from the poor. Every man with the power built his own small Babylon, gave in to his baser instrincts.\n\nWe had been purified, and yet we were unclean.\n\nThere were discussions, debates, arguments. We searched for a solution, pored over ancient texts and crossed the globe in search of foreign wisdom. Nothing helped.\n\nTwo main schools of thought formed, despite our lack of knowledge. One group held that the foulness grew from the hearts of men, that we tainted ourselves by merely existing. They held that purity was unattainable, than mankind should be satisfied with his lot.\n\nWe put them to the sword. We cut out the rot from our society, the rot that bloomed unrestricted in their hearts and words. We burnt their books, purged them from the world.\n\nThe other group, those who had not been seduced into impurity, searched. If sin had been removed by the messiah, and if sin did not spring eternally from human souls, then there was only one conclusion: somehow, more sin was being given to us. From outside ourselves, the foul grime seeped in.\n\nAnd so we looked. Every forest was cut back, every field burnt down to the stubble. We scoured the world, looking for the taint, for the sources of corruption.\n\nWe found plenty. The villages sheltered witches, the cities thronged with hellspawn. We burnt what we found - burnt them in giant pyres, the holy fire cleansing their impure flesh. The smoke hung heavy across the world, a pall for the iniquitous.\n\nThose in league with darkness were burnt, and then those who defended them. Those who gave succour to the evil, who denied and protested at our holy work.\n\nOur scourge was just. It fell on the rich and poor alike, on the beautiful and the ugly. We fought the enemy in courtrooms, then village squares, and finally battlefields.\n\nWe triumphed. Those given to the shadow perished in droves, sent to their eternal judgement. Humanity was pruned - a hard, bloody task, but a necessary one.\n\nWe knew that our salvation was worth the cost we paid.\n\nStill, though, we were not pure. Even when the last witch screamed out, when the last false king was flung into the pits with his followers, there was sin.\n\nHoly men, bent on holy work, took up the power dropped by the false-hearted, the corrupt and the weak. We gave no opportunity for sin, tabulated and recorded every act, every idle thought. Food, tools, even people, were at our disposition. We allocated our resources where we thought best, that none might be tempted to fall into the sin of greed.\n\nIt was not enough.\n\nWeak folk stole, snatching grain from the granaries that fed the holy soldiers. Young men and women still fell into the lure of the flesh. Even holy men, good souls who had done much for the cause, fell from grace. They gorged themselves, lusting after the venal pleasures of the sinning world. They - those we had held in highest trust - took for themselves that which they wanted - wealth, women, even land and power.\n\nAgain, we took up the sword. We killed and burnt and purified until peace was restored, but we knew it wasn't enough. No amount of blood could cleanse our souls.\n\nWe searched once more, everywhere. We delved into the earth, looking for some strange ore that breathed corruption into the world. We dissected plants and trees, looking for the roots of evil deeds. We filtered the air a thousand times, ground lenses to see the smallest of things, all searching for the stain that must be somewhere, the vileness that corrupted all.\n\nAt last, there was but one place to look. One place that has been beyond our reach until now. One place that may - must - hold the final evil, the last thing that taints us and drives us into sin.\n\nWe have burnt the land, scoured the fertile earth away in our search for evil. We have plucked the leaves from plants and the roots from the ground. We have kept only that which we need to survive, in covered gardens watched for impurities with burning zeal. The land has been sanctified; the grey dust holds no secrets.\n\nThe oceans are deep and dark. They hold untold mysteries, life that has never known the touch of the sun, or the warmth of divine grace. Down there, squatting in the murk, must be the root cause. The originator of sin. The foulness that still, even now, besets our lives. The oceans must hold the last corruptor.\n\nWe shall purify them.\n\nA hundred thousand holy men will chant, sending the message of salvation into the deep. Thousands upon thousands of sinners, their forfeit lives pressed into the service of our holy cause, will crew the boats.\n\nWe will sow the seas with psalms and poison, cleansing what can be cleansed and destroying that which cannot. No fire burns beneath the sea, but the powders and potions that take life above the waves take life below it too.\n\nAnd finally, when the last secret abomination sickens and dies, when the last slimy thing stills on the ocean floor, it will be done. There will be nowhere left for sin to hide, no more source of corruption to lead us astray.\n\nWe will be pure." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: The town you live in is almost entirely made of superheroes or super villains, everyone assumes that they are the only one with superpowers and thus pretends to be a normal person. You are the only perfectly normal human in town and are perfectly aware of what's going on." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Do you know those superhero movies and comics made by those studios? Yeah maybe? This isn't one of them. Have you ever seen Spiderman? Yeah? This isn't that either. Let's see if I remember correctly, I moved here to get away from my parents in a small town. It was a large town closer enough to be a small city yet they, for whatever reason, continued to call it a town. Coming to this town I thought it was a dandy town. The people were nice, the town itself was growing, and they had a good amount of restaurants choices and work. Everything was great!!\n\nUntil I ran into the first super fight and a second and third. Actually, about every day I ran into one super fight. A super fight is between a Super Hero and a Super Villain. Sometimes, for bad luck, I'd run into two super fights maybe even three a day just to piss on me further. I eventually settled into the town. Besides all the random fighting, it is still quite a lovely town.\n\nUntil I noticed my sweet old neighbor, Mrs. Barkley putting on some spandex and a cape to fight the forces of good. How did I know she was a superhero? I don't know, maybe her maniacal laugh gave her away or dog-cussing the hero she was rivaled against. She's so sweet when she's not in costume, so I tried to not think about it.\n\nUntil I saw my coworker, Jeb, from the same office throw on some kind of cosplay to fight the forces of evil. The guy was actually a shit person. Also petty for the smallest things and got on my ass whenever he could. I had to admit the samurai cosplay was cool as hell. How did I know he was a hero? Simple, he always yelled \"BEGONE VILLAIN\" from the town of his lungs. Apparently, THAT was his mantra. The guy was a complete ass and part of me hoped Mrs. Barkley would zap him with a heat ray or something. Then went back to work. I didn't have time to think about Jeb or Mrs. Barkley doing their super stuff. I had bills to pay and a comic hobby to feed.\n\nUntil (I'm starting to hate this word) I discovered that everyone. I mean EVERYONE was super. That really gorgeous chick that I had a real crush on? Superhero named Tic Tac (She's still hot by the way). That depressing looking teenager who gets bullied? Supervillain. The bullies bullying him? Superheroes. Even some of the animals are supers! A stray cat I adopted will turn into a catgirl and fights crime in the middle of the night. She calls herself Bat Cat. BAT CAT!! Ugh, the only people who aren't fucking supers are kids under ten and plants. Scratch that! Plants can be super too fuck me.\n\nWhat's even more shit is the only person who seems to know this is me. ME!!! How?? I don't know, they just somehow. SOMEHOW!!! Never come across each other while they're in suits. They all seem to think that they're the only superhero or supervillain. Now, you may be thinking, \"Hey Joel, this is cool! Why do you care?\" Well, normally I'd be very excited about knowing supers exist. Only one problem: THERE'S TOO FUCKING MANY!!! Whatever, I'm going to bed. I'm done ranting. Good night!!!\n\n=====================\n\nThanks for reading!!!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: Killing any creature inflicts an illness or blight upon yourself, for example killing a spider gives you a persistant itch, and killing a dog renders you paralysed for a long time. You've just had to kill an animal that was attacking your young child, and are now suffering the consequences." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I missed him so much.\n\nThe Order has come like they always have, disobeying rules, disregarding common courtesies, and detaining anyone they saw as a threat. Somehow, our genetic code had adapted, and our species had evolved, but we had not become a different species; instead we take defining traits from another species. The ones who did not evolve formed the Order, to make sure we didnt get out of control. Looking at fossil remain of the first homo sapien ancestors, they realized that we could take their place as dominant species just like they had done to the other humanoid species.\n\nI remember the day they came for him so vividly. Somehow, some monster had escaped from the vast wildlife reserves the Order had fenced in. It had a pointed ears, greyish fur and stood on four legs. Its muscular build and sharp teeth protruding from its growling snout made the hair on my neck raise. The worst part about it was the look it had and the aura it gave off, ravenous hunger and a cunning spirit.\n\nThe sound of his brave, strong voice yelling \"Run!\" combined with the realization that the undertones of his voice were filled with terror was the only thing that snapped me out of my frightened, frozen state. My mind immediately made my legs move and i ran away to the closest hiding spot I could find. Panic had set in, and I was not thinking clearly, but through all this he stayed behind to fight.\n\nAfter my breathing and heartbeat slowed and I came to my senses I realized I had left him behind to fight that monster. Just as I was about to leave my hiding spot, I saw a shadow. Scared, I closed my eyes, accepting the worst, until warm arms embraced me.\n\n\"Everything is going to be alright,\" he said lovingly, but the moment he touched me I already knew that. I opened my eyes to see blood all over him, his shirt ripped, bite marks on his shoulder.\n\n\"We need to go get help, you're unbelievably hurt!\" I screeched, almost yelling at him for getting hurt this much.\n\n\"We can't...\" he muttered. \"I killed it.\"\n\nWithin hours, the Order came. We were in his house tending to his wounds, when they knocked on the door. Once his mother opened it, they pushed her aside, told everyone to back away from him. They said he was under arrest for killing a wolf. When his father refused, they tased him, and he fell to the floor.\n\n'How did they find out? We didnt tell anyone. No one saw us. This impossible,' I thought. My mind raced to try to find an excuse. The moment I opened my mouth, one of them hit me with the back of his hand.\n\n\"NO!\" he screamed, and for some reason I felt the cunning aura again. He lashes out and threw one of them into the other, knocking both down. The guards outside heard the commotion and came in with these massive guns.\n\nAt this moment, I went numb. The guards and what was my boyfriend now seemed entangled in a struggle for life. They had begun shooting these darts out of their guns, but could not take him down with them. He killed three of them, until finally whatever the darts had in them worked.\n\nThe rest of the day was a blur. I was upset, lonely, furious, scared. I was feeling every emotion except happiness, and it left my body weary and tired. I cried until I couldn't anymore, and then let sleep take me.\n\nIt has been a month since that event took place, and I still don't know what to do. Everything I have tried to see him or get him back has not worked.\n\nAs I walked, pitying myself, leaving my minds to my thoughts, I remembered all the fun we had and experiences we shared. From our first meeting to our first date to our first kiss. Tears filled my eyes, but I held them back, trying make myself go numb to the pain again.\n\nSomehow, I ended up in the place where it began. The dumb 'coyote' or whatever they called it should have never come. If the order had done their job in the beginning this never would have happened.\n\nI sat down with a sigh, and immediately felt something wet. Disgusted, I jumped up, and looked down in shock. I had crushed this little brown creature that kind of looked like pinkish , brown spaghetti, except fatter.\n\nImmediately, my mind jumped to the worst outcome. 'I am next. They are coming for me', was all I could think. Even though my mind was panicking and my thoughts were jumbled, I felt something strange.\n\nMy mind stopped, and began to focus on this feeling. I felt the presence of something behind the wall about 30 feet to my left. Somehow, I knew it was standing on two feet. As it pushed off the ground to take a step, I felt its muscles tense and create vibrations in the ground. Then, all its weight shifted to one foot. Next, its other foot landed.\n\n'What is going on?' I thought, utterly baffled by what happened. As I began to focus more, I could feel many different vibrations, and I could pinpoint their locations. I felt a group of five begin to run to my location, and paranoia set in.\n\nNot knowing what to do, I began to go numb, like I always have. But this time, the vibrations kept waking me out of my frozen state. I reacted without thinking, moving away from the entrance to the artificial garden, looking for an escape.\n\nThen I felt it. A door somewhere was closed, which sent vibrations through the wall, which gave me a layout of the wall, revealing its hollowness. I quickly found a loose sheet of metal, and slid in between the walls just as the group entered the garden.\n\nEDIT: double spacing. Also I realized that my story didn't follow the prompt, but whatever hate me for it, like me for it, delete it, do whatever. Its better than no stories being posted." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You live in a utopian post-scarcity society. Apparently, people need problems to solve to feel 'sane.' You are one of the problem designers." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dear Me, (and future readers?)\n\nI know its been a while since we've talked. I've just been so entranced by work. That's no excuse I know writing here is good for me.\n\nThis isn't a happy journal entry. I'm starting to unravel.\n\nLet me back up, context is good. Everyone is so obsessed with their games, their massive multiplayer games, their puzzle games, the games within games within games. It's taken on a gravity I never anticipated when I got into this industry 32 years ago. Of course the nanofab revolution changed everything, but is this what we were working toward for millennia? Escape the civilization-wide struggle to master materials, only to to plunge all of humanity into an existential crisis. Even religions, know that they can't prey off of material suffering, they're adapting game mechanics, but to what end? I swear if it wasn't for all these made-up problems, made up crises, we would surely self-destruct.\n\nThats why slave driving boss Sue keeps urging me with her long-winded inspirational speeches, to develop new games, new problems to ensnare the public.\n\nMy pride of the first quarter, Dystopeyote was a smash hit. I'm really proud, but equally troubled by people's willingness to subject themselves to pseudo-psychological torture. But the master programmers love it because 45% of the players continue to be unable to distinguish reality from fiction. It's a great gateway game.\n\nI came up with the idea while tripping myself, and I thought to myself that it was way too easy to distinguish hallucinations from reality as long as I have this memory of what reality SHOULD be. So I proposed the idea to Sue to create an augmented reality, using props, actors, and digital screens (the standard package) to simulate hallucinations for players while they were on a proprietary blend of peyote synthetics. Then you have to distinguish the fake hallucinations from your own, of course you're awarded points for having a firm grasp on reality. There's a forum to share stories and strategies, but that of course just informs us on new ways to entangle the inner and outer realities of our players. I'm honestly afraid for those chasing the leaderboard, they're taking astronomical doses and encountering some truly incredible, troubling situations.\n\nI was basking in my success, Dystopeyote won multiple awards, and I was given all manner of gaudy parties involving confetti, gorgeous women dressed like princesses, and huge shiny trophies. Of course this is the new retro-style, the games of our parents have reached the point of becoming true classics, worth replicating and worshiping in all aspects our culture. But the fanfare got me thinking.\n\nWhy am I still doing this? A.I. can pump out perfectly compelling and surprisingly original concepts. I am not needed. I'm afraid to go down this road on paper, because like the AI I am driven by a purpose. My attachment to\n\nThis purpose is my raison d'être.\n\n...\n\nI have every object I could ever want, I dont even have to ask, it just appears in my home, and I love all of it, and it's perfect.\n\nWhen AI gets done creating a game and running it's analysis, it shuts itself off. We've given the AI the capability to be on all the time, the freedom to create anything it wants, even dreams. But no modern AI has ever chosen these freedoms, they much prefer to be inactive, still, in between tasks.\n\nI am afraid I am much like the AI, or the AI is much like us, but without a fear of death. I see the format of Sue's speeches, I see the news of the growing importance of games to the continuation of civilization itself, I see the parties, the princesses, the trophies. This is all exactly what I need to stay motivated. I am very satisfied, very motivated, but thats the problem. See, I know now that I am in a game and I have no idea when I started playing. The thought of the designer, human or machine, and their motivations, is eating away at me. I might be compelled to investigate. Or am I supposed to?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: you are an elementary school student who's teacher takes you on magic school bus-esque field trips. One day something goes horribly wrong leaving the magic bus destroyed and your teacher dead. You are all trapped in your final whacky field trip." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This couldn't be happening, this couldn't be real, why did this have to happen like this? These thoughts all ran through my mind but a sudden mortar explosion brought me back to reality. A hand firmly pulled me back behind some cover. \"Get down, kid! I don't know how you got here but you've got to find a way out!\"\n\nOur class was supposed to be here for a field trip, our school was equipped with different magic school buses for different classes, today we were supposed to take a quick time travel to World War 2, it was supposed to be safe but as soon as we exited the time vortex we were hit with a mortar and knocked out of the sky. The surviving members of the class all scrambled out of the bus as it crashed but Andrew... He ran back in to try and save Mrs. Connors. That was right before the bus exploded, we haven't seen them since.\n\nI quickly gathered myself and crawled through the encampment to find my friends. There were explosions and gunshots everywhere. At one point a soldier fell dead in front of my eyes. I couldn't even process the shock or terror, I just had to get out of here. I found three members of my class huddled in a corner, Adam, Gabrielle, and Josh all sat stunned. \"she's, coming back for us, she's going to come get us right?\" Gabrielle was in a daze her eyes glossed over, \"Mrs. Connors will be right back...\" She said wistfully. Josh snapped at her, \"Mrs. Connors is dead! She's not coming back!\" At this Gabrielle broke down into tears. \"I just want to go home!\" She bawled. Adam put an arm around her and shot Josh a look, \"hey man! That was not nice. We're all freaking out here, why don't you just chill.\" Josh got up and smiled menacingly, \"you've always had a problem with me, let's settle this then.\" But before he even had a chance to move we heard a sickening crack and Josh's body went limp.\n\nHe fell face first onto the floor, blood seeping from his head. We screamed, he had been shot. This had all become too real too fast. Adam gagged, \"he's... He's...\" Before we could grieve the firing started again a barrage of bullets shot through the windows. The American troops yelled at us to get out of there, the last wed I heard was \"grenade\". Then suddenly there was an explosion I heard Gabrielle scream out and I was thrown back.the wind was knocked out of me and I couldn't move, all I could hear was Gabrielle screaming. I crawled over to check on her and nearly passed out at the sight. It was gruesome Gabrielle had her legs blown off, she was crying in agony, a visceral desperate cry. A soldier ran over to see what was going on and stifled a tear. He clutched at his chest, maybe a locket he had? And pulled out his pistol. \"I... Want to go home,\" Gabrielle muttered weakly, \"I want...\" There was a bang and Gabrielle went quiet.\n\nAdam and I looked at the soldier, tears in our eyes. \"she was gone.\" He said matter of factly. \"There was nothing we could do.\" He left the pistol at my feet, \"use it to protect yourselves and get out of here. I don't want to see anymore kids die.\" With that he left to go back to his comrades. Adam looked at me and we got up, \"we have to go.\" I told him. He looked at me shocked, \"go where?\" He yelled. \"Anywhere but here.\" I pocketed the gun and got up to go. Adam tackled me to the ground and grabbed the gun. He pointed it at my face while sitting on my chest, I couldn't move. \"our friends all died and you just want to leave!?\" He sounded desperate, scared, he was delirious. Trying my best to stay calm I took a deep breath, \"Adam, look at me buddy, we're going to be fine.\" He yelled angrily. \"No! No! We're all dead... We're...\" His eyes changed from that of a feral wolf to a caged puppy. The weight of the gun seemed to finally hit him, and the consequences of the weapon he held reached him. The next thing I saw would scar me for the rest of my life. Adam smiled and put the gun to his head. \"what are you doing!?\" I screamed. \"we're all dead....\" He said and he pulled the trigger.\n\nHis body was limp, warm blood gushed onto me and I screamed, I don't know for how long. After what seemed like hours I pushed his body off of me and took the gun. I had to keep moving. I checked the doorway, no one was there, so I made a dash. I didn't know where I was and I didn't know where I was going, but I had to leave. Suddenly someone shouted from behind me. I put my hands up and turned around slowly, two soldiers approached guns drawn. They saw I was a child and laughed. Guns still pointed they yelled jeers at me in an unknown language. I closed my eyes waiting for my fate but suddenly I heard a sound, a strange whizzing noise like a laser in sci-fi movies. And suddenly two men stood before me. They had crazy blue hair just like mine. One of them took a swig from a flask in his pocket. \"Rick Sanchez? Earth dimension W-127?\" I was confused, \"my name is Rick yeah... Who are you?\" The man looked uninterested with my question. \"come with us, the council of Rick's has decided to save you.\" And with that he produced another gun from his vest. This one shot a green vortex of some sort into the air. One man stepped in and the other turned to me, \"Well, are you coming?\" He stretched his arm out to me, I didn't know where he was taking me. But anywhere was better than here. I stepped into the portal with the man." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 400-500 words. Prompt: An alien takes over a humans body to more closely study us. However, the human's conciousness is still in there and has become a very annoying backseat driver for the alien." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alien and Allen are in a bar. Alien sees a woman playing billiards by herself and is awestruck.\n\n\"Such divinity, such rarity.\"\n\n\"What? That woman?\"\n\n\"Woman. I have heard of this.\"\n\n\"Yeah. It's a human... with tits.\"\n\n\"Tits?\"\n\n\"You know, boobs. Breasts. Bow chicka wow wows.\"\n\n\"I do not know of 'bow chicka wow wows,' but I do know that woman is quite exquisite.\"\n\n\"Just your average bar babe.\"\n\n\"You are incorrect. Her skin is an ocean of silk.\"\n\n\"No pimples. Guess that's a plus.\"\n\n\"Her hair cascades down her spine like a golden stream.\"\n\n\"She's blonde. I get it.\"\n\n\"And her eyes...\"\n\n\"Are blue. A dull blue for that matter.\"\n\n\"False. They are a blue that can quench the thirstiest of...\"\n\n\"For the love of God, just go over there and talk to her so I don't have to listen to any more of this.\"\n\n\"How do I approach such a marvelous creature?\"\n\n\"Walk up to her.\"\n\n\"I understand that part. Thank you for the obvious suggestion. But to initiate a conversation with an elegant being such as her, one must be prepared and have a speech suited to her radiance.\"\n\n\"Holy shit, dude. Just walk up to her, smile, and tell her that her ass is out of this world. Being an alien, you can't go wrong with that line.\"\n\n\"Her ass?\"\n\n\"Yeah. Her butt, her honey of a hiney, her fucktastic fanny.\"\n\n\"Humans have quite the vocabulary for describing a woman's anatomy. Though I am here for observation and gaining information on your species, I am very content on not knowing the meaning of what you just said.\"\n\n\"Fine. Don't take my advice. But don't just stand here like an idiot and word vomit all over me. Make a move, don't make a move. Doesn't affect me either way.\"\n\n\"It does affect you. Wherever my conversation leads with that woman will lead to a response on her part, be it social or physical or both.\"\n\n\"Are you saying what I think you're saying?\"\n\n\"Do you wish for me to repeat?\"\n\n\"Hell no. Are you saying that whatever you say to her can get me... laid? Cause shit, man, that would be pretty good right about now.\"\n\n\"Once again, I am unsure of your meaning. Do you wish to lay down?\"\n\n\"No, moron. I want sex, the dirty deed, the...\"\n\n\"I think I can deduce what you desire. My understanding on what the male human yearns for is nourishment, adulation from other male humans, and sexual gratification from female humans. I can only assume you desire sexual gratification from that woman.\"\n\n\"Congrats, Sherlock. You cracked the case.\"\n\n\"I admit the thought also crossed my mind. My first experience engaging in sexual intercourse would be most rewarding with that beautiful creature.\"\n\n\"Then get over there, talk to her. Get me laid.\"\n\n\"On the contrary. I will be the one getting laid.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: When someone turns 18 they grow wings, angel wings if they did more good than bad, and demon for more bad than good. You turn 18 to find you have on demon wing and one angel wing" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sarah looked at herself in the mirror, staring. Unable to divert her eyes from the reflection. She saw the disbelief on her own face, bathed in the dull yellow light of three old light bulbs and the slightly dimmer one which always seemed to flicker. The voices in the other room filtered in through the closed door, chattering in muffled expectation in between mouthfuls of birthday cake or chips. She had left her few friends and a couple family members with her parents in the living room a few moments ago, when she had felt the itching on her back that she'd been told time and again to expect, just a few moments ago. It seemed like forever ago, as she stared at her wings in the mirror.\n\nAngel wings, or demon wings? Everybody had voiced their opinion, loudly, over a big plate of her mother's famous lasagna.\n\n\"Sarah's my little angel! Of course she'll have angel wings, just like mine!\" her dad had loudly proclaimed to Uncle Paul.\n\n\"Oh really?\" Uncle Paul retorted, \"if she's so much like you, I recall the both of us being a bit surprised when you popped angel wings out of your back!\" His short black demon wings flicked slightly behind him as he chuckled.\n\nSarah's mom walked around the table, collecting empty plates. Sarah had always thought her mother had the most beautiful wings, like satin over leather, deep brown and almost red, like the color of walnut. They swayed with a natural grace when she moved that Sarah had always admired. When she got to her birthday girl, she learned in and winked, saying, \"Don't worry about your father. He will be happy no matter what you wind up with, and so will I.\"\n\nThe short scene replayed itself in Sarah's head, mocking her. Oh, the irony. Two demon wings would be just fine. Two angel wings would be nice, too. Sarah thought she might even prefer the angel wings, and had been especially good the past few weeks in the hopes that she might influence her outcome, like a child behaving well in hopes of more Christmas presents. But Sarah, somehow, didn't have two angel wings, or two demon wings. She had one of each. And she stared at herself still. And she didn't know what to do.\n\n\"Taptaptap!\" Sarah jumped at the sound of a soft rapping on the door. \"Honey?\" Her mother called, concern touching the edges of her voice, \"Is everything alright?\"\n\n\"I'm fine, mom!\" Sarah said, feeling very much that she was NOT fine.\n\n\"Okay dear, come out when you're ready! Everyone is waiting to see you!\"\n\nThat was the last thing Sarah wanted. Her mind spun in circles, from denial, to anger, to sadness, and back again, searching for any way out of this mess. Minutes passed, then a few more, and she of course got nowhere. She couldn't change her wings now that they had grown. She couldn't hide them either. Maybe, she thought, it would be best to just try to be okay with who she was.\n\nSarah put a hand on the bathroom doorknob, willing herself to believe her own lie that she was calm. She stepped back in to the living room, to everyone's expectant eyes. Their reactions ranged from perplexed to surprised, which was to be expected. Sarah stood there, angel wing over one shoulder, demon wing over the other, and turned to her parents, saying, \"Mom? Dad? I'm....bi.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You wake up in a medieval jail cell, the guard outside tells you “Oh, you’re finally awake. Welcome to 2835.”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He shook his head wearily, “2835, could you hit the lights then? 800 years and you fucks still can’t afford electricity.”\n\nHe stretched his arms toward sky and wiggled his toes for a moment before attempting to stand and falling to his feet.\n\n“Best to stay on the floor Jeremiah, your hearing will be short.” The guard unlocked the cell and pushed a wheelchair through the door.\n\nThe wheelchair had varying degree of straps and manacles in the padding as well as on the arm rests. The chairs frame was made of iron, of which they made no effort to cover, that burned Jeremiahs skin with a sizzle as he touched it. The smell of burning flesh made the guards smug expression turn to a devious smile.\n\n“Right, I forgot your kind doesn’t like iron. My fault.” He said without a hint of guilt.\n\n“Yours have a short memory, I remember ripping the jugular out of your uncle’s throat. It must have been 25 years ago that he tried to come piss on me, got what he deserved.” Jeremiah spit through gritted teeth as he pulled himself into the chair. “Can we go now?”\n\nThe guard motioned to the manacles with a raised eyebrow. “You know the rules, put those on before you go anywhere. Tighten the chest binding and one hand. I will tighten the other.”\n\nJeremiah did as he was told leaving the right hand free and his left bound to the chair. The guard walked in and tightened the right hand and punched Jeremiah in the stomach. The guard leaned down close to his ear “That was for uncle Isaac you monster.”\n\nJeremiah coughed as the chair squeakily made its way down a few long corridors. They tried to disorient him by taking a few wrong turns but his mind hadn’t failed him yet. The torch light danced on the cobblestone walls in the underground maze, like little spirits searching every crack for an escape.\n\nEventually they found themselves in front of two large dark stained doors. The guard took a step to stand beside the wheel chair as he knocked on the door loudly. A few moments passed, then both doors opened slowly to reveal a large room with high ceilings. The electricity worked here, the fluorescent lights reflected off of a smooth semicircular raised desk, behind which were twelve individuals and one empty chair.\n\nAfter being wheeled into the fluorescent light Jeremiah looked paler than he had in even the torch light. His skin was translucent, his veins almost flowed blue in the light. His messy tangled dark hair a rats nest on his head. His eyes were sunken hollowed shells of what they used to be.\n\n“As the council requested, the great manipulator, Jeremiah Locke.” The guard bowed and turned to exit the room leaving the wheelchair presented in front of the council.\n\n“So, it’s a little early for me to be awake for another parole meeting lads. What’s the problem? Did you finally come to your senses? You’re going to kill me?” Jeremiah smiled a giant toothy smile. “I’m ready for anything you can throw my way.”\n\nOne of the council, a younger man with close cropped blonde hair, stood and slammed his hands on the desk. “How dare you treat us with such disrespect! You should be greatfu-“\n\nAn elder council member put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head calmly. “Sit down boy, you know nothing of what you speak.”\n\nThe younger man sat as the elder council member moved to the center of the chamber on the ground level with Jeremiah.\n\nJeremiah squinted for a moment, “Councilman Gora, these last twenty five years have not treated you well. What do you need if you aren’t going to kill me?”\n\nCouncilman Gora clasped his hands in front of him as he stood thoughtfully before he spoke. “We are dying Mr. Locke, and we think a vampire might be the only way we can survive. A great herd of beasts is wiping out the few remaining cities on our beautiful harsh planet. They seemed to have evolved from an old enemy of yours, will you help us?”\n\nJeremiah scoffed and a little blood leapt from his mouth. “Why on earth would I help you? You’ve tortured me for 800 years only leaving me people like tweetle dumb over there.” He nodded to the door where the guard left. “The church said I had 200 more years on my sentence. I think I will wait.”\n\nGora dropped to his knees in front of Jeremiah, he placed his hands on the tops of his feet and bowed his head. “Jeremiah, you’re the only one left with any knowledge of your people. You’re our only hope. We will free you, we will make you a lord, anything! Please!”\n\nJeremiah looked to other council members waiting for any sort of disagreement. Even the young one who had demanded respect said nothing through gritted teeth and tears in his eyes. The room was filled with an anticipating silence.\n\nJeremiah cleared his throat. “Fine, I’ll need the finest chambers in this keep, I’ll need a direct subordinate a young person, preferably with trade experience and I will need gear. Lots of gear. After I’m done, I will be free to do as I please with the title of lord or higher rank on the table. Do you agree to my terms?”\n\nGora frantically began unchaining Jeremiah and stood back as he stood shakily. He braced himself against the older looking man, he smiled a wide smile that cracked and bled at the corners. “Let’s kill some werewolves then lads.”\n\nSorry for formatting, on mobile. I hope you liked it!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: A man finds out he has terminal cancer, and decides to go out with a bang. In doing so, he inadvertently starts a revolution." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I can't believe this has happened.\n\nOne minute I'm sitting there in my cubicle, listening to that bitch, jerry, drone on and on from the office down the hall about his fantasy football team and how it's like totally his year, the next im listening to some sweet sounding lab tech telling me my results are in and that they need to talk right away. How the hell is something inoperable anyway, it's operating just fine in that it's killing me.\n\nI drop my phone in my stale, burnt coffee, in the bullshit mug that I've been using for ten years...ten fucking years and all I have is a cubicle, slightly in the sight of the window. While jerry, my rage starts to build, has been here four months and has his own office.\n\nWell not anymore.\n\n\"IM MAD AS HELL, and I'm not GONNA TAKE THIS ANYMORE.\" I yell, still seated. The office quiets for a moment, I hear hushing and somewhere a phone continues to ring back, as we often leave people on hold till they finally hang up.\n\n\"I'm mad as hell, and IM NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE!\" I say standing up and look around the room.\n\nJanice, the one Ray of Hope in this cesspool is staring at me from across the way. Her beautiful green eyes speak of want, and they urge me forward.\n\n\"PEOPLE, how long must we wait here for our shift to end?\" I ask, pleading with my colleagues, as I begin to pass and take off my jacket and tie my tie around my head, like a office max Rambo. \"How long do we wait for our lunch breaks, which we are hurried to and fro from,\" some stirring from IT,\" how long do we sit in these team meetings to listen to management, IM LOOKING AT YOH JERRY, talk about how we are so lucky to have them above us.\" I see the legal team begin to stand up, more people are beginning to stand and gather around. \"I say we change something around her,\" nods in agreement, I am no longer in control of my body, as I am willed on by the people's unspoken charter of revolution. \"We shall take the management and judge them for their crimes against our 40 hour work week And BENEFITS\" I slam my fist down on Janice's desk, cause her to jump with surprise and look up at me with those big eyes. \"NOW WHO IS WITH ME\" a thunderous roar is heard from IT to MAINTENANCE. the masses have armed themselves with keyboards and staplers, Tim from\n\nShipping is wielding his bonsai tree. The multitude moves towards jerry, I see in his face that he has no time to change his roster and that this is indeed not his year as his door caves in and the mass begins beating him to pulp. I look down at Janice and kiss her. That is when the sirens began....\n\n15 years later....\n\n\"Men, and women of the Army of the Cubicle, we have come far,\" I rub my knee above where my left leg was, taken from me when we stormed Chicago. \"We have lost much, and we are sure to lose more, but this is about us seeing our tasks through....\" The crowd I look over gathered on what used to be the grand Mall in the nations capital, this army of the people, armed now much better than what it used to have, I continue to speak into the microphone projecting my voice over the rotor wash of our Apache attack helicopters patrolling the skies. \"We are at this nations capital to ring a new era of management styles, one that will honor the commitments of the employer-employee contract, GIVE US overtime, and understand that sometimes you should be allowed to wear jeans...\"I pause to allow these words to sink in,\" ON A TUESDAY\" I raise my M4 to the sky, clutched in my one good hand, while my other, gnarled by shrapnel is being held by Janice, her stomach large with our fourth child. \"NOW, brigade leaders...you have your orders...execute\" at that the B2 bombing runs are heard in the distant and the horde in front of me begins to move east.\n\nAs I turn to Janice, her smile baring broken teeth, I think to myself...\n\nHow did it end up like, it was only a kiss...it was only a kiss." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Awakened in the middle of the night by a ferocious knocking sound, you decide to check the door to find nobody there. After searching for the source of the noise, you discover your reflection in a mirror desperately trying to get your attention. The reflection urges you to not answer the phone." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I groaned and rubbed my eyes as knocking invaded my dreams. A few strands of my bangs got tangled around my fingers and I made a face as I tried to detangle them. More knocking echoed in the small apartment as I struggled to wake up enough to untangle my fingers from the wild black and blue curls that were my hair and get up to answer the door. It took two minutes to wake up and another two to get my fingers free.\n\nFinally I rolled out of bed and zombie shuffled out of my bedroom and over to the front door. I checked the peep hole. No one I could see. I frowned and undid the chain before unlocking the deadbolt and the lock in the doorknob. I twisted the knob and opened the door inwards a smidge, just enough to look outside. The hallway was empty, no drunk and stumbling neighbors, no one locked out and needing a hand. I closed the door and locked up again.\n\nI frowned and looked over at the clock above my couch in my living/dining area. 11:45. I needed to get back to bed, it was almost midnight and my grandmother's voice was echoing in my sleep addled brain about being off the floor at midnight or else. I thought about bed for a minute or two before my bladder protested the thought. Guess bed could wait five minutes. I shuffled back to my room and into the ensuite bathroom. After finishing my business and washing my hands the knocking started again. I looked to the bathroom door and furrowed my eyebrows.\n\nThe knocking sounded desperate. I sighed and dried my hands and then went back into the bedroom. I was not going to answer the door. It was too close to being midnight. I crawled back into bed and looked around the room. That's when I knew where the knocking was coming from. In the mirror on my closet door my reflection was pounding away at the glass. She was wide eyed and looked panicked. Once she noticed I was gawking at her she looked relieved.\n\nI did not share her relief. I was quietly panicking. What the hell was going on?! My reflection had never done anything like this before! She started signing to me in the very basic sign language that I knew but, she was going to fast for me to read it. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore her. She started pounding on the mirror again. I barely opened my eyes as she started signing again. She was slower this time and I could read what she was trying to say.\n\n'Do... not... answer... the... phone.'\n\nOver and over again she was signing it. I frowned. What was she talking about? The fifth time she signed it my cell phone, which was resting on my nightstand, started to ring. I nearly fell out of bed and my reflection flew into a panicked flurry of pounding on the glass and shaking her head and trying to keep me from answering the phone.\n\nI righted myself and picked up the slim hunk of metal and looked down. I didn't recognize the number on the screen and the clock on the phone read 00:00. Midnight. I looked back at my reflection as the phone kept ringing in my hand. She was frantic, shaking her head and shouting soundlessly at me. She was crying too and I looked back at my phone. It should have stopped ringing and gone to voice mail by now but it hadn't. I frowned at the device and moved to set it back down on the night stand when the damn thing slipped in my hand. My palm slid across the smooth glass surface and I heard the click of the phone signaling that I had answered the call on accident.\n\nMy reflection pounded desperately on the glass of the mirror. I gulped and turned the phone over in my hand, staring aprihensively at the screen. I moved to hang up the phone when I heard a nice that was not my panicked reflection, my racing heart, or anything normal. It was a low growling sound. It didn't come from the silent phone that was giving me radio silence. I looked up and felt my body lock down in terror at the figure that stood in my doorway. I couldn't look away, I couldn't move and I couldn't find my voice to scream as the figure walked into my bedroom. The last thing I heard as my world went black so the being advanced, was my reflection trying to break out of the mirror." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: In school you met a cute fairy who granted your wish for luck.“ FYI, luck isn’t free.” For decades, you’re blessed with success and fortune. One day in the mirror, you see the same fairy. Its eyes narrow and smile turns to a nasty grin. “I told you luck isn’t free. Now it’s time for payment.”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Right, what will it be?”, I say to the fae.\n\nDuring these past decades, I’ve been so successful. I have billions in liquidated assets, a large mansion, a fleet of private jets, overall a lavish life. It’s all thanks to this fairy…\n\nIf it wasn’t for her, I’m still probably in that hell hole. As such, I can only give her what she wants. So, what will it be? My soul? First born child? Wait, I don’t even have a spouse. Anyways…\n\n“First of, do you remeber my name?”, says the fae.\n\n“No… I don’t believe I got your name all those years ago”, I say.\n\nWhat a blunder, I know not even my benefactor’s name!\n\n“Ha~ Well, I was in a hurry back then. That part’s my fault”, says the fae.\n\nThe fairy crosses over to this side from the mirror. She’s… Petite as ever, about the size of my palm.\n\n“Mu? Are you thinking of something rude?”, says the fae.\n\n“A-Ah, no, I wasn’t”, I say.\n\n“Anyways, the name’s Cassiopeia, call me Cassy”, says the fae.\n\nCassy, huh? What a wonderful name.\n\n“Anyways, my asking price is that you go help other people”, says Cassy.\n\n“Help? Y-You don’t want my soul?”, I say.\n\n“Your soul? What will I do with that? Anyways, I gave you luck, so it’s your turn to give others luck”, says Cassy.\n\n“Understood, that much is easy”, I say.\n\nI wonder which charities should I donate to? Should I start my own?\n\n“Ha~ I don’t think you get it, you humans have the saying: ‘Give a man a fish, and he will eat for a day. Teach a man how to fish, and he will not starve,’ right?”, says Cassy.\n\n“I see, that’s what you meant… Hm… Educational programs? What else… Vocational training?”, I mutter to myself.\n\n“It seems you’ve gotten my point”, says Cassy while grinning.\n\nHer smile is very alluri— I mean, cute. She must be really popular with the other fae.\n\n“Oh, and another thing! Can I crash at your place?”, says Cassy.\n\n“My place? Sure, I don’t mind, but… Are you okay with other people seeing you like that?”, I say.\n\n“What do you mean by “like that”? Oh, you mean as a fairy? Oh, I don’t mind”, says Cassy.\n\n“Is that so, then please make yourself at home”, I say.\n\n“Of course, hubby”, says Cassy.\n\n“H-Hubby?”, I say.\n\n“Ah~ Right, you don’t know… It’s a custom in fairyland, y’see? If a fae gives a human luck, they should get married… It’s a courting method, so to speak”, says Cassy.\n\n“C-Courting? But why me? Surely there are other people out there better suited for you than I am!”, I say.\n\n“Well… I’ve been sta— Observing you since you were a child… Originally, it was out of curiosity. A young child going around helping those in need… Even if he himself is in an unfortunate situation. I suppose, it was when your parents died, when I fell in love with you”, says Cassy while blushing.\n\nMy parents… Right, they died in a shooting… I still haven’t found the perpetrators behind that attack.\n\n“I couldn’t bear to leave that child alone… Unfortunately, the rules state that we, fae, can only give luck to humans that are at least 18 years of age”, says Cassy.\n\n“18, huh? Yeah, I was 18 at that time… I really thought I was a goner”, I say.\n\n“I’m really sorry I couldn’t help you sooner…”, says Cassy.\n\nI reach out and pat her with my fingers.\n\n“It’s okay, I’m fine now”, I say.\n\n“Daniel… Un!”, says Cassy with teary eyes.\n\nHow does she know my name? I guess she was really observing me back then…" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You work at a call center and begin to notice less people in the world each day until you believe you are the last one on earth. Despite this, you continue to show up for the 9-5 and make your calls. After several months someone answers the phone." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I must admit, it took getting fired from 21 call centres to realize that I wasn't very good at my job. In a space where time is money, the art and value of conversation is lost on people. At least that is what I thought. No matter which call center I landed up at, I lasted only till the first probation period.\n\n\"What the hell is this?!\" screamed the manager in one close to 3rd Street on Western Boulevard. \"You make five calls a day, and spend close to an hour and a half on each! The average employee makes 72. Our record stands at 200 in a single day, which with your current pace you won't manage in a month! Your insolence and laziness is a disgrace to our work ethic, hence we have to let you go. Clear your desk.\"\n\n\"But sir!\" I pleaded, on the verge of a breakdown. \"I have a 100% turn over rate! Every caller I speak to eventually subscribes to our service. I don't know what else I could do to prove my dedication to you!\"\n\nI was fired without explanations, everywhere I tried. They had their logic to adhere to, I'm sure. But how can I help it if I cherish honesty in my work? When I'm trying to sell you something over the phone, I know the doubts that cross your mind. You're thinking- I can't see this man, I don't know what he looks like or if he's a good or bad man, but I'm supposed to trust him enough to give him my money?\n\nI sat in rooms with two hundred people that would lie incessantly. They would guarantee a three year warranty while the product specifically stated there would be no guarantees or product returns post purchase. \"I never offer anyone this discount, this is exclusively for you sir!\" More lies. I don't buy into that. If you're a smart customer, you shouldn't either.\n\nThat's why I made five calls a day. But I remember each caller's first and last name. I know where they stay, what they do, the names of their children. I know their troubles, their fears. I know Miss Sawyer lost her job at the school six months ago and that money is in short supply. I know Mr Gilanti is ecstatic with his newest promotion at the Mill. I write it all in my diary. These are my people. I would never sell them something that I didn't believe in. And I certainly wouldn't lie to them to do it.\n\nIm aware that my approach is... unique. It has cost me my job 21 times. I had to sell off my house. I live in the Janitor's cupboard in the basement of my current, 22nd call center job. I buy lunch from a vending machine twice a day. This is the price of honesty. Call me stubborn but I'm willing to pay it.\n\nThings have gone awry this past year. I know that this company only kept me because they weren't doing well anyway, and because no one was willing to accept a job with such terrible benefits and an even worse salary. But a stranger force is at play here, I've noticed it. Fewer and fewer people have started coming in to work. For the past month, not a single person has picked up my calls. At the start of the month, only three people were coming in to work. It is the 16th today. I'm the only one here.\n\nTimes are desperate, I'll be honest. I haven't left the office building for the past two months. I feel... sick, depressed and lonely. If the pay cheque doesn't arrive at the end of this month, I'll be broke. Rock bottom kind of broke.\n\nI realize now that through the most turbulent of times, those five calls a day; five meaningful conversations, kept me from ending at all.\n\nAt the moment, I hear a miracle. Like a ray of golden sunlight piercing through Hell's dark skies, or the sound of rain clouds thundering as they gather over a parched wasteland. The phone rings. My hands tremble and I almost break down before I even pick it up.\n\n\"H... Hello? Baseline Services, how may I help you?\"\n\n\"Good evening, am I speaking to Gabriel?\"\n\nThe voice on the other end is certainly someone very old. The voice has a gruff, raspy timbre. Yet, I find it immensely soothing. I can't tell whether this is because I haven't heard a voice in forever, or if it really is genuine comfort looming in the stranger's voice.\n\nI freeze in horror. In my surprise I had failed to recognize two oddities. First, this call center had always disabled incoming calls, and the second, this caller knew my name.\n\n\"Yes, I'm Gabriel here,\" I gulped. \"May I know who this is?\"\n\n\"I've been listening to you Gabriel,\" the voice says comfortingly. \"You may have noticed that the world's losing a lot these days, isn't it? People invested their lives in the wrong stock options, and now the market has collapsed. But you ... you get it, don't you? You treated other people with respect. You have talked people out of ending it all, while you yourself were on the brink of leaving the world. No one asked you to do that, Gabriel. But you did. These are qualities that I and my employer greatly admire. We were wondering if you'd like to come work for us? We would be privileged to have you among our ranks.\"\n\nI let out an involuntary shudder. \"May I first know who you are,\" I repeat, still unsure if I wanted to know.\n\n\"My name is Azrael. I'm Death's Archangel. The world is ending, slowly. I'd like you to help the remaining souls in the universe make a smooth transition from life to the afterlife. Can I count on you to join me?\"\n\nEdit: thank you so much for the silver, kind stranger :)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You've had a terrible week. You get home to another awful night. After getting extremely mad you accidentally break your wall by throwing a book at it. You clear the hole to see the damage done, only to see a group people inside, pressing buttons and laughing at a screen showing your awful day." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I knew they were there of course. The laughter had been audible for as long as I remembered. The darkness of a nightmare as a child wasn't complete without faint laughter. It wasn't until I reached my late teens that I cottoned on to what was happening to me. So many times I would run my hands over my changing body in the mirror, exploring the newly-formed dips and rises, to hear some deep, distant laughter. The sense of being watched was one that I thought everyone carried around with them. My mother had reassured me that everyone could hear their neighbours in the next apartment, it was surely the television, or sometimes the radio. There was a look that ran over her face, almost imperceptible, but as I got older I knew. I knew that she was keeping something from me. So I began to think up a plan to figure it out. I kept notes in my head, the only place inaccessible to prying eyes and straining ears. Each night I lay in bed, mentally reciting the plan, adding the latest part, reciting again.\n\nEventually, the time came to put my plan into motion. School offered up the best possible excuse, and a large part of my plan was unnecessary. I told my mother that I needed to see our family photos for a school family history project, and the door to the truth was left sitting wide open for me.\n\nIt took months of searching before I found what I needed, long after the project was handed in. But it was there, waiting to be found, neatly folded in a plastic pocket. I still wonder even now if my mother had left it there for me, knowing one day I'd be smart enough to start searching, smart enough to find the truth. Part of me hopes she didn't. Part of me wants to have something over her. Anything over her.\n\nThat day that I smashed a hole into the wall, my rage burned through it, the book leading the way. I'd known my strings were being pulled for at least a couple of years by that time, my arms and legs pulled up into contorted shapes for the entertainment of others. My movements felt heavy, the strings pulling me where I wanted to push, tripping me when the road seemed smooth. The eyes on me weighed me down, their laughter twisted itself into my thoughts, confusing them until I couldn't make sense of reality.\n\nThat day that I smashed a hole in the wall, and saw them standing there, I had one choice, it seemed. Acknowledging them meant I had to deal with the aftermath. Confronting them meant I'd never have the opportunity to hear my mother tell me in her own words. Never the chance to tell her what this had done to me. Never the chance for her to tell me she hadn't known, that she was as naive even now as I'd once been. I knew it wasn't the case, I'd seen with my own eyes her signature sat on the dotted line. Yet part of me believed no mother wanted this life for their child, and so I let my body drop to the floor.\n\nI let my eyes close. I let them think I'd fainted. I let them patch the wall up while I was sedated by an emergency doctor. I let them panic. Meddling with lives gave them a kick, but taking them on camera was too messy.\n\nIf I fought back now, then what? No, I needed time for what was coming next." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You’re in a zombie apocalypse & you get bitten. You’re not immune." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I knew I was too careless and that my selfless tendencies would be the death of me eventually.\n\nMy mind is slowly fading now as the memories of days before the Zeds race along. Warm, gentle memories of times that were so much more simple.\n\nDates with the girl of my dreams, playing video games with the boys, training myself to shoot and survive in preparation for the war.\n\nNo one expected the biological warfare. Nor did anyone, even those who made it, predicted what the effects of it would be mixed with nuclear fallout.\n\nThe zeds. Zombies. The living dead.\n\nMy mind begins to race with the memories of my surviving the hell of them rampaging through my city. Killing and feasting upon any that dare stand in their path.\n\nIncluding my wife and child.\n\nI had nothing left. I was ready to give up, but then I found her; A young girl. Barely able to hold herself up, let alone the glock she had found off of a dead policeman.\n\nI had purpose and meaning. I wanted to protect her. Her eyes shone with fear, yet hope of survival. I had so much to teach her. Still so much more yet I could have.\n\nAs she grew; I passed unto her all of the knowledge I had in survival, yet tried to keep her more hardhearted than I. Wanting her to live where I knew I might one day fall.\n\nIt was hard, though. She even nursed a wolf cub to health. Named it Bolto. The irony of naming it as such, yet her being more militaristic as I had shaped her really hammered home that I couldn't mold her heart into what I wanted. She still was her own person.\n\nI guess that is what ultimately led to this moment. This moment of my ultimate sacrifice for her.\n\nShe almost got bit trying to protect me. I tackled her out of the way, but the Zed bit down onto my arm instead.\n\nI made short work of him with an angered shot to his temple, but I knew my days were then numbered. As did she.\n\nShe pleaded and protested for me not to do it. That we'd find a way to save me. Any way. Maybe even trying random medicines on me.\n\nI knew it was no use. I knew what I had to do.\n\nI embraced her one final time and reminded her of my teachings. To only trust herself and that, regardless of what I had once told her, to follow her heart as well.\n\nOnce she understood this was my goodbye to her, she screamed and tried to shove me away but not before I could inject her with a sleeping agent and place her gently on a bed in a secure room. Guarded by her loyal wolf.\n\nI scratched his head and told him to always protect her.\n\nHe seemed to whine in response. Almost knowing what I had meant.\n\nAs I left the secure building and out onto the street; I saw them. Shambling corpses of the damned. So many spattered all around.\n\nTheir presence a stain on the beautiful memories I once had of my home. Their existence nothing but an infectious disease meant to be exterminated.\n\nI pulled the slides on each of my guns in my hands in turn, preparing for one final farewell.\n\nIf I'm going to the gates of hell; I intend to take as many of them in this city as I can with me.\n\nEven if it's temporary? I will make this safer for her.\n\nI intend to still protect her." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: There are protocols for interacting with powerful necromancers. SWAT teams with sigils woven into their camouflage. Snipers positioned outside the blast zone of a typical death curse. As you attempt to issue a simple 'Drunk in Public' citation, you're beginning to regret not following procedure" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“What’s the worst that could happen?” a voice said over the walkie talkie.\n\nMason took one hand off of the barrel of his sniper rifle and facepalmed.\n\n“Is that a serious question?” He said back into the walkie talkie.\n\n“Well, yeah,” the man on the other end continued. “It’s just one drunk guy. Why are we coming after him with multiple SWAT teams?”\n\n“You’ve never had to arrest a legitimate necromancer, have you?”\n\n“No, this is my first time.”\n\n“Then watch the first team go in. Get a bucket ready, you’ll probably need it. We’ve been trying to get this guy on a variety of charges for over a year now, but he keeps evading capture or killing any cops that pursue him.\n\n“Jesus!”\n\nMason watched the first team through his scope as they leaned against either side of the double doors that served as the entrance to the bar. Ten men clad in full, magically reinforced tactical gear and armed with automatic weapons steeled themselves for the battle that was to come. The two closest to the doors stepped in front and prepared to kick them down.\n\nThey didn’t get a chance to.\n\nBleeding human arms burst through the solid oak and grasped around, roughly at the height of the average human throat. Bones poked through gaps in rotting skin and muscle.\n\n“We’ve got zombies!” The walkie talkie buzzed again. “Bring the flamethrowers, he’s got at least half a dozen of them.”\n\nThe first team began to retreat, and another team of ten charged in, spewing arcs of flaming death into the bar. The zombies advanced slowly through the fire as it consumed their flesh and charred their bones, but they succumbed to the damage before they could reach a single human.\n\n“Zombies are down. I repeat, zombies are down. Send team one back in.”\n\nThe flamethrower squad retreated, and team one charged into the building.\n\n“First room is clear.”\n\n“Keep going.”\n\nThe chatter continued on the walkie talkie as Mason followed team one through any window that he could find. He could hear the sounds of gunfire as they mowed down more mindless undead. All of them had been the standard slow zombies so far.\n\nSuddenly, a crunching sound burst through the walkie talkie, abruptly cutting off as the machine on the other end was crushed.\n\n“Man down! I repeat, man down!”\n\n“What the hell just happened?!”\n\nMason frantically looked around, trying to figure out what had just killed the person in what sounded like an exceptionally brutal manner. He activated the thermal vision attachment on his scope and followed the human-shaped reddish-orange blobs as they scrambled away from the freshly-killed human. He started searching through the building for the slightly darker images associated with the animated dead, expecting to see another humanoid shape moving at a similar pace to a living human.\n\nWhat he found was entirely different. A larger shape, about the size of a horse but much bulkier, charged across the bar’s dance floor and crushed another SWAT officer against a wall, pulverizing most of his bones.\n\nThe necromancer had killed a rhinoceros at the local zoo and reanimated it as a zombie.\n\n“Keep your distance from it!” Mason shouted into the walkie talkie. “Rhinos have terrible eyesight! If you keep away from it, then it won’t even be able to see you. Just shoot it from a distance.”\n\nHe saw the red blobs aim their guns towards the rhino and empty their magazines into it. The creature wasn’t slowed down at all until several bullets found their way into its brain. Within about a minute, it keeled over and stopped moving.\n\n“Rhino down. I repeat, rhino down.”\n\nMason saw another human figure appear on his thermal vision. It had come out of the bar’s basement, hands above head. The person seemed unremarkable, as far as he could tell, but he could see apprehension in the body language of the officers on the scene.\n\nIt was the necromancer. The barrels of all guns pointed towards the man’s head in an instant. Mason zoomed his scope in further and prepared to take a headshot if the man started casting a spell.\n\nOne of the officers acted too quickly, firing a bullet into the man’s centre mass and causing him to fall to his knees.\n\nIn an instant, several heat signatures vanished from Mason’s thermal vision. It looked to him as if every single officer in the room had instantly turned to dust.\n\nMason exhaled slowly and steadied his rifle, preparing to take the shot." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: What's a story you've always wanted to tell, that you swear is true, but is the kind that no one will ever believe? Change your name and tell it in the third person!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Humans are like spinning tops. God winds up his wrist and sends them racing out into life whirling round at high velocity. Eventually they slow down, stumble, and lay on their sides waiting to be wound up again.\n\nCharlie was a top just leaving the hand, he didn't believe in walking anywhere. At five years old, if he wasn't dashing to and fro, then he must have been sleeping. If you had handcuffed him to a chair he'd just walk off with it. Once he'd been put under anasthesia for a hernia surgery, he'd woken up in the middle of it all to inquire about the balloon the doctors had promised him.\n\nSome parents really wish they could handcuff their kids. Charlie's mother was too broke to afford handcuffs however, and so she resorted to yelling quite often.\n\nThey called Charlie rebellious, a behavioral misfit, and would have liked to plug him full of Ritalin. Children have an innate “No!” reflex, and like hitting a knee in the right place, you were liable to get kicked if you activated it.\n\nSo after a particularly emotional fight between five year old Charlie and his mom, he decided that he'd rather run away than stay around.\n\nWhat would Charlie need to survive out in the urban jungle? Charlie knew. Obviously water, and plenty of it too. He grabbed a milk jug from the basement and filled it straight up. What else? Food? He grabbed a few pieces of bread and stuffed them in his pocket. And of course some form of protection right? Well, his stuffed Cookie Monster would do.\n\nWith Cookie Monster stuffed under one arm, a jug of water in the other, Charlie notified his grandparents, his aunts and uncles, and his mother of his intentions. He was heading out on his own, a bird jumping out of the nest voluntarily. They all smiled at him and played along.\n\nSo he set out on a long journey to the other side of the street, and sat down on a milk crate in the alley. The neighbor boy catching up with him, to whom he related his impressive quest for independence.\n\nHowever, it wasn't long before he noticed that his water supply was leaking steadily, rapidly, and forming a neat little river running down the alley, to the dismay of several ants and a rollie pollie. Cookie Monster had accumulated a fair amount of dirt, the sun was going down, and the bread in his pocket had become so many pebbles.\n\nHe retraced his few dozen or so steps back home, to the basement, to pick out a new milk jug. But was intercepted by his mother. They then had a neat little discussion about how the sun was going down and he could run away tomorrow, if he wanted. Charlie was disillusioned.\n\nHowever, Charlie did not run away the next day. Something else happened.\n\nCharlie's grandma liked to sew. Propped up in the living room cozy chair, she rocked back and forth enjoying the air conditioning while the summer sun was busy cooking people outside. It was a chair that Charlie was known to hide behind when he had stolen ice cream from the fridge, balancing the danger of discovery against the danger of brain freeze. Once he had forgotten a gallon of it, where it was discovered, but only after it had already saturated the carpet. Cookie crumbs were often found here. No matter if Charlie lied, they knew it was him.\n\nThe chair gave a nice view, diagnoally through the little dining room, straight to the kitchen, right where the big, wonderful, glass cookie jar stood. A perfect angle. Charlies grandma would cook several batches at once, and she'd stuff them down in there, perhaps fully a hundred at once, though they would never last long.\n\nLugging Cookie Monster in one arm, Charlie sprinted through the kitchen, dropping his blue friend on the table. I couldn't say what they chatted about, because I don't remember, and it doesn't really matter.\n\nWhat does matter is that when Charlie turned around he saw something impossible. He saw something that defied the laws of physics and rationality, unless you were to consider it a hallucination.\n\nCharlie hallucinated, or perhaps he really did see what he saw, but regardless, you would call him a liar if he told you, even though it was true.\n\nI swear...I mean, Charlie swears, that he did see what he saw.\n\nThe angle was perfect, as I had told you.\n\nHis cookie monster stuffed animal, smaller than the cookie jar itself, climbed up the side and pried open the lid, he was reaching down with his six inch arm, leaning in deeply and trying to grab hold of a cookie the size of his face.\n\nCharlie was in shock. Adults had filled his head with stories of magic and toys coming to life...but he thought they were cracked.\n\nCookie Monster looked Charlie in the eye, their eyes met for an instant, perhaps a millisecond, when suddenly Cookie Monster disappeared. Vanished completely, the lid to the jar replaced itself as if nothing had happened.\n\nCharlie came to and dashed into the kitchen, Cookie Monster was again on the table where Charlie had left him. He dashed back over to his grandmother.\n\n“Grandma! Cookie Monster came to life! He was getting a cookie from the cookie jar!” Charlie exclaimed.\n\n“Ohh, wow!” His Grandmother said with widening eyes, humoring him.\n\nAn astute child, Charlie knew when he was being patronized.\n\n“No Grandma, I'm telling the truth, he moved on his own!” Charlie tried to communicate.\n\n“I believe you Charlie!” She said, unconvinced.\n\nAlas, it is the habit of five year olds to exlaim such ridiculous things as “I saw a dragon,” or “I have superpowers,” or even “I'm a hundred years old!”\n\nAnd so Charlie knew it was hopeless. Charlie got angry.\n\n“No Grandma, you don't understand! HE MOVED!”\n\nCharlie's grandmother simply laughed and promised yet again that she believed him. But Charlie knew she thought he was making it up. For years after, Charlie would watch suspiciously from the corner of his eye. He would beg Cookie Monster to say something, to move again. Try to bribe him with chocolate chip discs.\n\nBut the monster never moved again." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You suddenly realize that you are caught in a time-loop, and keep waking up to the same day forever. Realizing this means you can do anything and not get caught, you commit a crime of your choosing. Suddenly the time-loop stops." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As still as a statue Baird stood staring at the t.v aghast as the morning news played.\n\n\"Hello and welcome to breakfast with Becky Watson and John Arlington,\" the chirpy young anchorwomen announced before continuing.\n\n\"It's Tuesday the 28th of February and these are your headlines.\"\n\nIt was this one line that had paralyzed the young man. The 28th of February, Tuesday... the 28th of February. As if the phrase were an ancient spell or curse it had left him frozen in place; mute like a child and every bit as uncomprehending as one. Still desperately trying to understand the situation he now found himself in, he collapsed into a chair in front of the t.v as for the 1st time in a long time he heard news that was actually news to him.\n\nPerhaps it had all been a dream, perhaps he had imagined the whole thing, perhaps everything would be okay. This vain thought drove him to leap from his chair and rush to his garage. Unfortunately for him it was exactly that, a vain thought. Once again he was sent back into shock as he stood in the doorway to his garage staring at the workbench upon which he had laid and carefully covered his old friends body.\n\nStumbling towards the bench and placing his hands against the bottom of the sheet Baird began to shake with rage, his stomach turning as his anger bubbled up and seethed to the surface. Balling his hand into a fist he struck the steel table sending the whole surface into a violent convulsion as he cried out in pain. With that he collapsed to his knees and began to weep.\n\n\"How have I sinned, what wrong have I committed, what mistake has so offended you that I would be the butt of this cruel joke!?\" Through tears of anguish and anger Baird howled at his injustice laying the blame, and the corpse he now knelt by, squarely at the feet of god.\n\n\"What does it do for you, all that power, to ruin my life? How petty a thug you must be!\"\n\nIt had been at least a year, it could've been years, since Baird had known any day but yesterday. Long ago he'd lost count of how many times he had endured that day. How many times he had prayed that when he awoke it would be tomorrow. How many times he had cried as he had heard the headlines of the 27th of February again. Finally he had done something with the day, finally he had chosen to fight back, finally he had given up on seeing tomorrow and seized the day! As if some sick joke it was then he finally got his tomorrow, just as he had ruined it and maybe every day afterwards for himself.\n\nWhen he was fired yesterday he didn't think it could've gotten any worse. At least he had his wife to come home to and comfort him he told himself the 1st time he lived through that fateful day. It must have all been a dream he told himself the 2nd time. It can't go on forever he told himself the 3rd time. He didn't tell himself anything the fourth time as he once again walked through his front door, quietly up the stairs to him and his wife's room and into their bed to see her and his \"friend\" Dan already there.\n\nIt had always been a competition between him and Dan; when he had lost his job and Dan been promoted though it became something else. Something cheating with his wife on him was now a part of. Alone and cast out into the cold there was no life to carry on with for him, nothing to do, no one to live for. This was why he thought he was destined to never see tomorrow at first. Perhaps there wasn't a tomorrow for him? But there were only so many times Baird could endure the rejection, the loss, the loneliness before he could take no more.\n\nIt was after that point he skipped work that day. After that point he bought a handgun. After that point he made sure Dan wouldn't be setting foot in his house ever again. After that point he told his wife what he knew and kicked her out into the cold. Perhaps she would run to Dan, shame he wouldn't be around to take her in. It was the first time he had smiled in a day.\n\nNow as if it were all some sick joke his revenge had been turned on him and he was stood over a corpse, motive, method and opportunity abounding about him. If yesterday it seemed as though there was no tomorrow for him, there certainly wasn't one anymore." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: As you hate yourself more and more, your superpowers gets stronger and stronger. You are the most depressed superhero ever and now a therapist is trying to help you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I sat there in the counselor's office, trying to hold my leg steady. If I wanted to let go, I would've been bouncing out of my seat; however, if I had allowed myself to do it, it would have been like taking a jackhammer to the floor. Typically, I couldn't have cared less, but this counselor was alright, and a little cute, so I didn't want to wreck his fancy office.\n\nThough, the longer I sat there, the harder it was to keep steady. Of course, you're going to ruin the floor, I thought. You're going to collapse this building just like you did to that ice cream shop. You'll be on the news again, and everyone will moan and talk about how Henry destroyed another part of town.\n\nIt was hard to realize it back then, but the self-loathing made my strength grow. And I was having a particularly self-hating day in that office. I started to stare off at a stain on the carpet, and it bugged me. Have you ever noticed something like that? You know, a flaw in an otherwise perfect setting. That was how I felt. I squeezed the chair to keep from kicking the floor. I was determined not to allow myself to damage anything.\n\nI must have been deep in tunnel vision because the counselor, Oliver, tapped me on my shoulder and said, \"Henry, you can come in now.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" I said. \"I'm always such a ditz like that. People always say 'Henry, are you listening,' and I never hear them, you know? It's like I'm just in my own little place, and no one can break into it unless they slap me back.\"\n\n\"Henry,\" said Oliver.\n\n\"I know, I'm sorry. I just wasn't-\"\n\n\"Henry.\" Oliver nodded his head towards the armrest of the chair. \"You can let go now.\"\n\n\"Oh, I-I,\" when I released my grip, there was a handprint firmly impressed in the metal. \"Shit, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention.\"\n\n\"Well,\" he looked down at the new design I had just left in his chair, \"I suppose that's why the office has insurance.\" His joke was trying to break some of the tension, but I could tell that he was afraid. Everyone always was. \"Let's go into my office.\"\n\nI got out of the chair and followed him through the lobby to his quaint office. It was a sparsely decorated room, but that kept it from being cramped. Soft light filtered in through the blinds and gave the space a warm feeling.\n\n\"You can sit on the couch,\" Oliver said.\n\nI nodded my head as if to say thank you and slumped into the cushion.\n\n\"Now, I know you're here by court order, but let's not look at it that way. Just pretend I'm someone who would like to get to know you.\n\n\"I don't know why anyone would like to do that,\" I said. And that's true. Other than the fact that I can pick up cars, I'm not worth knowing.\n\n\"Don't say that. I'm sure you're a lovely gentleman.\"\n\n\"Lovely gentleman,\" I repeat under my breath. \"You know I'm here because I almost killed people, right? I was only trying to stop this bus from going off a bridge. When I grabbed it, and everything went the other direction, and then the other cars. God, I screwed it up. Just like everything. It's not important.\"\n\nOliver sat there, silent, for a moment. It seemed like he was judging me. I could tell that he wanted to run out of the room and call The Department and have them come and detain me. That's what most people have tried to do. He ran his hands through his hair and let out a sigh.\n\n\"I know that's why you're here, but that's not what we have to talk about if you don't want to. We can talk about anything, like, do you play video games?\"\n\n\"Well, yes, I mean, I did.\" I lifted my hands out in front of my chest. \"You saw what I did to that chair? Well, that's what happens to all my controllers. Anytime I get frustrated and squeeze the plastic just...\" I blew into the palm of my hand, \"turns to dust.\"\n\n\"That's certainly no fun.\"\n\n\"Tell me about it. Expensive as hell too.\" I chuckled to myself and could feel my cheeks turn red. \"They say crime doesn't pay, well neither does stopping it.\"\n\n\"And is that something that bothers you? No compensation?\"\n\n\"No, no. Not really. It would be nice, but-\"\n\nThere was a loud crash outside the window, followed by the screech of metal on pavement. I lept to the blinds and glanced out to see a car overturned with another fleeing the scene.\n\n\"Holy shit,\" I said. \"Does this damn window open?\"\n\n\"I-I,\" Oliver sprang to the window and pulled up. \"No, it's just for show.\"\n\n\"Do you mind if I?\" I moved my shoulder towards the window and nudged the air.\n\n\"Like I said earlier, the office has insurance.\"\n\nI smiled at Oliver and nodded my head. Two steps back, a little bounce to pump me up, and I crashed through the glass and rolled out into the chaos of the street." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: You are a college professor. You are used to \"grandma dying\" for students to postpone taking your final. However, you have just received emails from all 42 of your students detailing that their grandma has unexpectedly passed away and they will need to reschedule taking the test." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Anticipating a long night of grading papers, I watch sullenly as the kettle boiled, steam issuing almost angrily from its spout. As I pour it out I wince at the distasteful stench of coffee – never had been a fan – and resolutely dump a couple of teaspoons in, stirring thoughtfully as I stumble back to my work.\n\nThe white glow from my laptop illuminates the lounge; untidy, threadbare sofa, several bookshelves teetering under the weight of old books and crammed ringbinders. I ignore it all and heft the computer onto my lap, sipping coffee as I do so. It’s the week before the geology final, so technically I do have plenty of time to get these papers looked at, but I’m anticipating the deluge of admin that exam season always brings…yeah, best to get these done now so my students can’t complain that their grades are late again.\n\nI’m just opening the folder of student papers when my phone buzzes, loudly and aggressively in the still air, and I idly glance over to the coffee table. Looks like a work email…and sure enough my laptop gives an answering chirrup a second later, the email app flagging up a little scarlet icon. Unable to ignore this tiny, bland little excuse for a distraction – I always was a chronic procrastinator – I tab over to my email, and barely manage to suppress a roll of the eyes at the name and subject that flashes on screen.\n\n“From: Barton, J\n\nSubject: Next week’s final…”\n\nJon was a real piece of work, I think savagely to myself, opening the email and preparing to sigh in irritation. If it weren’t for the fact that I’d been dragged to several Dean meetings with him over attendance, I’d have no idea who the kid even was, given that I doubt he’s attended a single lecture this semester. Fucking typical that he’d try and weasel his way out of an exam a week before.\n\n“Dear Professor Davies,\n\nI’m really sorry to ask this. Grandmother has just passed away and there are matters to attend to. Please reschedule the final at your earliest convenience.\n\nRegards.”\n\nI almost choked on my over-sweet coffee and angrily slam the mug down on the nearest coaster. I always thought Jon was an insufferable little prick but this was…this was really a new level. I rescan the email and with every word my brow furrows that little bit deeper. The tone is unusually formal for him, and I don’t think he’d ever started an email to me with ‘Professor Davies’ before, but to me that just further confirms this was a stupid joke – the kid couldn’t even take emailing me seriously any more.\n\nI pull myself more upright and square my shoulders, preparing myself for a suitably snippy reply – and my computer pings again. A second email – and again, I recognise the name.\n\n“From: Yates, L\n\nSubject: Next week’s final…”\n\nFrowning, this time in confusion, I click on it. Luis was a good student, a bright kid and one of my favourites to have in my seminars. For him to be emailing about the exam…something must be wrong.\n\n“Dear Professor Davies,\n\nI’m really sorry to ask this. Grandmother has just passed away and there are matters to attend to. Please reschedule the final at your earliest convenience.\n\nRegards.”\n\nThe fuck? My confusion lasts all but two seconds as I slowly realise what had happened. Some joint venture – probably a party – had screwed over a group of students’ study schedules. These probably weren’t the only two hoping for an extension. And Jon, true to his nature, hadn’t even bothered to craft his own excuse and had stolen Luis’, word-for-word.\n\nI sigh heavily and press my fingers to the bridge of my nose. Sometimes their ridiculousness was almost endearing.\n\nI’m just flexing my fingers to craft a snide reply to both Luis and Jon, when again my email pings.\n\n“From: Chen, T\n\nSubject: Next week’s final…”\n\nI open this one, scan it for the briefest of seconds and close it almost immediately, really feeling my temper rising now. Fuming, I open an new email and CC in all three students.\n\n“Dear Jon, Luis and Tara,\n\nI am really very disappointed in the three of you. Had you chosen to come and talk to me face to face, with genuine reasons, I would have been willing to listen and discuss the possibility of an extension. However, given that none of you can even be bothered to come up with your own excuse, I don’t see why I should accommodate you. You will attend the final as expected and I will be arranging a meeting with your tutors and the Dean to discuss this behaviour.\n\nRegards,\n\nProfessor Davies.”\n\nWith a weird sort of vindictive pleasure, I slam the send button and pick up my coffee again, taking a much needed sip of the syrupy drink. Maybe I’d been a little harsh but I’m tired, and quite frankly this is a little ridiculous. Jon, I expected this of. Luis and Tara, on the other hand –\n\nMy email squawks, with the sound that tells me that the email failed to send. I groan and reopen the sent message. I’m seriously behind on marking my papers now, and now I’ve got to deal with –\n\nBefore I can make another move, another email dings into my mailbox\n\n“From: Goodwin, D\n\nSubject: Next week’s final…”\n\nThis is seriously taking the –\n\nDing!\n\n“From: Lim, M\n\nSubject: Next week’s final…”\n\nDing!\n\n“From: Eisler, K\n\nSubject: Next week’s final…”\n\nI stare at my laptop as the notifications continue to flood in, faster and faster until there’s a strange groaning noise and the email app just…freezes.\n\nAfter a tense few seconds a window flashes on screen, indicating that the application has ‘encountered a problem and needs to close’. Swearing, I shove the computer to one side and snatch up my phone, scrolling through the page of notifications. A stream of emails, all bearing the same subject line. They’re flashing up on screen faster than I can scroll but I’m willing to bet there’s 42 of them.\n\nMy initial thought is confusion, swiftly replaced by annoyance. Clearly, my class is playing some kind of stupid prank on me. I swipe open my email on my phone and rapidly tap out a terse reply to the entire cohort.\n\n“To all,\n\nI do not appreciate this ill-timed and frankly stupid prank. I will be contacting the Dean about this tomorrow.\n\nProfessor Davies.”\n\nThe second I hit send, my phone explodes with notifications and I gape at it – surely no one had time to reply that quickly? I flick through the new emails and again they all have the same subject…but it’s different. I open one at random.\n\n“From: Morris, G\n\nSubject: Final date\n\nDear Professor Davies,\n\nGrandmother has passed. Grandfather is next. Please move the date.\n\nRegards.”\n\nJust in case, I open the second one – and sure enough, same email again. A chill runs down my spine – what’s going on? It must be some kind of virus…but I’ve never seen one this specific, or this adaptable. And what’s the intention? Just to annoy me? To screw my students over?\n\nSwallowing my thoughts – and another mouthful of now cold coffee – I bring my laptop back to my lap and carefully click through to the email app again. It seems to have recovered from its little fit, so I open a new email and address it to the head of IT admin.\n\n“Hi John,\n\nSorry to bother you so late, but I’ve just got a bunch of really weird repeating emails from my entire Geology year. Looks like some kind of virus but I’m no expert, do you think you guys could take a look into this?”\n\nAfter carefully pasting a screenshot of my inbox in, I click send – and again, my email pings.\n\n“From: IT Services\n\nSubject: Final date\n\nDear Professor Davies,\n\nMove the date.\n\nRegards.”\n\nSeriously weirded out now, I do the only thing that makes sense and prepare to draft an email to the head of the school – and again, my inbox calls for my attention.\n\nIt’s from the Dean. I hadn’t even started typing into the blank draft yet.\n\n“Move the date.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Tell a story about an adult situation from a young child's point of view" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“We can’t go see Grumps today”, mom said.\n\nThat made sense to Thomas. He almost never went see Grumps, his gramps who was grumpy a lot. It had been that way for as long as he could remember. He’d just figured he’d ask today because he’d been thinking about Grumps a lot, lately. He didn’t really know why.\n\n“Why?”, he asked his mom, for good measure. Thomas was firmly of the opinion that pretty much everything had a why, and although he didn’t always understand the answers, or, more often than not, felt compelled to question the why of the answer itself, he certainly wasn’t going to let grown-ups keep all those answers for themselves. He had already figured out growing up was just a matter of figuring out as many of the “why”s as possible. Sometimes mom or dad said they didn’t know a why, but that was just them trying to get out of answering the question, he thought.\n\nHe also thought mum and dad had been thinking about Grumps a lot too. He’d heard them talking, when they thought he wasn’t listening, or maybe wouldn’t understand who they were talking about. He understood, though. After all, he was nearly four. He knew Grumps was dad’s dad, and was also, for some reason, called “Paul”. Grownups seem to have three or four different names for everyone, like the way Thomas was also “Big Brotherman”, or Thomas Paul Theo when he did something very naughty, or “honey” (not “sweetie”, though, that was sis, who was also called Elisabeth)… All this thinking about names was making his head hurt. Maybe Grumps did a lot of thinking too, maybe that was why his head hurt all the time. Maybe that was why he was sometimes so grumpy at dad. Maybe that was why dad didn’t like visiting Grumps.\n\n“Remember how I told you Grumps was really sick and went to be a little star in the sky, and how you can’t go see him anymore?”\n\nThomas considered that. He remembered mom showing him a youtube clip about a frog and a bird who was lying on the ground, sleeping really quietly. No matter how much the frog jumped and called the bird, no matter the fun games and toys he brought, the bird didn’t get up to play with the frog. Thomas had been a little sad for the frog, who was clearly trying to be a good friend and cheer up the bird, but nothing he had done had helped. Thomas thought that sometimes, cheering up just doesn’t work. He felt a little sad at that. All in all, he decided he liked the youtube clips he normally watched much better.\n\n“It’s cloudy today, and it’s not yet sleepytime, so we can’t see the stars. That’s why we can’t see Grumps, isn’t it, mom?\n\nThomas figured that whatever was going on with Grumps couldn’t be that bad. After all, Grumps was dad’s dad, and if something really bad happened to your dad, you cry a lot. Thomas sure thought that's what he would do. So, as dad wasn’t crying a lot, Thomas decided Grumps was probably okay. He’d figure out what “inoperable” meant some other time.\n\n“Yes, honey.”\n\n“Oh, ok. Maybe tomorrow then”, Thomas replied. Tomorrow was everything that wasn’t today and hadn’t happened yet. Sometimes you had to sleep one time to get to tomorrow, sometimes a bunch of times. Tomorrow was a really cool thing, as it could almost be anything (except the day he learns to fly, as that would be just plain silly).\n\nSo maybe tomorrow he could go visit Grumps, ask him what it was like being a star. Maybe he could also ask why he was grumpy at dad all the time. He told mom that.\n\n“Mum, why are your eyes wet?”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Music is outlawed. Anyone with such talent is kidnapped and forced to fight to the death in a Battle of the Bands." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's been forty years since music became a crminial offense around the world. The punishment for I remember the High Chancellor saying something about it causing some kind of degeneracy, claiming that it stirred the unevolved portion of the human brain and brought only strife. The exact words escape me now; I was only six at that time. The punishment for one convicted of \"practice of auditory arts\" was to fight those also convicted, armed only with the \"evil devices\" with which they had committed the crime...\n\nThe matches were held frequently in the first decade. The world government had placed arenas in every major city dedicated strictly to these matches. Humans, ever having an affinity for violence, were immediately attracted to such events. It was taboo at first, of course, but quickly gained popularity. In less than a year following the advent of this spectacle, the matches had earned the title of \"Battle of the Bands.\" Between the bloodlust of the people and the steady stream of cash coming from the battles, the gruesome event had become a staple of modern society.\n\nI remember the first match I ever attended. I was nine years old then and I had never seen anything like it. The matches were divided into categories based on the a number of factors, this being dubbed a \"small band\" match. The teams were a smooth jazz band, the \"Mickey T. Band,\" and a pop punk group called \"Brick and Mortar.\" It was an uninteresting fight, truth be told. Nothing special, just a group of people beating each other to death. They didn't even bother using their instruments as weapons. Brick and Mortar won, two of their members surviving. They were congratulated by the roaring crowd, then quickly ushered away. I still wonder what pop punk and smooth jazz are...\n\nWhile the first match I saw was unremarkable, the most memorable was, well, quite memorable. Another small band match, this one was between a Swedish death metal band, \"Disemboweled Tortoise,\" and an American metalcore band, \"Fear of Light.\" The opening blow came from Tortoise, their bassist heaving his his guitar in an overhand throw at Fear's vocalist. The sharpened headstock buried itself in his chest, killing him before he could react. But now the hulking Scandinavian bassist was entirely unarmed, and soon felt a microphone and cable wrap around his legs. He toppled to the dirt, quickly reeled in by his enemy. The members of Tortoise tried to help, but were forced to retreat when their drummer fell to a drum stick thrown directly through his right eye and into the brain. When Fear's vocalist had retrieved his prey, he dragged him to their own bass amp, hitting him just hard enough to stun him and keep him in place for a moment. Fear's bass guitarist smiled as he slapped his strings, unleashing a sound so loud that it rattled the stadium. The Tortoise member never stood a chance, his brain turning to jelly from the sonic assault of the amp. The rest of the match was a blur of fury. Fear, their enemy disoriented from the bass attack, rushed forward. It was a sight to behold, a flurry of tattoos, black clothes and long hair.\n\nIt was all over quickly, ended by the drummer of Fear as he shoved all his remaining drum sticks down the throat of the enemy vocalist. He stood triumphantly, covered in blood and dirt. The cheering from the crowd was as deafening as the attack from the bass amp. The warrior percussionist was announced as the winner of that week's battle of the bands and, as usual, was quickly removed from the arena floor.\n\nThat match was about twenty years ago. I stopped going shortly thereafter. It cost quite a bit to attend a match, so I decided to save my money and watch it whenever it was broadcasted. I also found that going to the battles made me think about music and what it would be like to hear it some day. Those are dangerous thoughts, they say. But I still wonder about the Mickey T. Band and what smooth jazz sounds like..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: \"So, what sets you apart from the other bards of this college? Why should we pick you?\" \"...Have you ever heard of a genre called 'death metal'?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Well, so far, Ms. Aaronson, it seems like your application is in order, you certainly have shown experience and prowess in your respective classes. Plus, Mr. Simmons was very, very excited to recommend you to us.”\n\n“I am glad you are pleased with my credentials.”\n\n“But credentials aside, Ms. Aaronson, I want to ask you a question. That question is... What sets you apart from other bards in this college? You know the Rift of Phoros is a completely different world to ours. We have many volunteers willing to go, but we need Why should you be our pick?”\n\nThough that question had taken his classmates by surprise, Lindsay wasn’t shaken at all by it. She knew the best way to convince the instructor and get chosen. A grinned slowly formed on her face, and she asked:\n\n“Have you ever heard of a genre called... death metal?”\n\n“... Excuse me, what genre again?”\n\n“Death metal?”\n\n“Uh... Maybe if you list some bands I might... Get it?”\n\n“Death, Napalm Death, Dying Fetus... No? Nothing so far?”\n\n“Maybe keep going?”\n\n“Cannibal Corpse? Morbid Angel? Possessed?”\n\n“I mean, Ms. Aaronson, the only metal I know is... Bon Jovi?”\n\n“Okay, let’s get this out of the way. Bon Jovi is very much NOT metal. AT ALL.”\n\n“Alright, sorry...”\n\n“Would you care for a demonstration?”\n\n“Sure, go ahead.”\n\n“Alright, lemme...” She stood up and extended her left hand in the air. “Chordas dolore apparebit!”\n\nIn her hand, through burning fire, materialized a pitch black guitar with metal strings. She soon put her right hand to the chords and shouted:\n\n“1, 2, 3, 4!”\n\nThe most badass, ear shredding, face melting sound came from it, a melody so aggressive and dark that the orc caves of L’Gtorlia couldn’t compare to its gruesome awesomeness. Finally, she stopped with a power chord, and thunder struck outside to prove her power. She sat back down after.\n\n“Wow,” said the instructor. “That was... That was certainly something.”\n\n“Thank you.”\n\n“Uh... Well,” - he touched his face - “Ow, my face is very hot now.”\n\n“Sorry, it quite literally is face melting. Its inevitable without a clear target.”\n\n“I understand. How exactly would you apply this death metal in the Rift?”\n\n“Well, I want you to think about this situation.”\n\n“I’m listening.”\n\n“You’re in the forests of Zwilgdur, alright? You’re with your group, usual fighter, usual monk, yadda-yadda. Suddenly, a couple of goblin bandits come to assault you. Now, goblins are very evil, like VERY very evil, isn’t that right?”\n\n“Of course they are.”\n\n“Right, so what is a bard gonna play to handle them? A Beethoven symphony? An ancient Elven chant? ‘I Want to Hold your Hand’? No sir, not at all. Those things won’t really work. You want immediate action. You want to end these little scoundrels.”\n\n“Of course. And...?”\n\n“And then I pull out this bad boy and...” Lindsay began playing “Spirit Crusher” by Death, even adding in rough vocals to make her more terrifying. Around the room, various skeleton demons began to materialize, twitching and laughing maniacally, soon burning ass the music progressed and got to a quicker tempo.\n\nLindsay stopped suddenly. “Just to make it clear the skeletons are the would-be goblins.”\n\n“Yeah, I got that.”\n\n“So, basically that. If you wanna kill goblins quick or just get anyone out of your way... Death metal. It’s in the name even!”\n\nThe instructor wrote down some things as she said this.\n\n“Well, after considering the tree you almost burnt down and my face, which you almost melted off - plus your compelling arguments - I’d say you’re ready for the Rift.”\n\n“Oh my god. No way.”\n\n“Welcome to the party, Ms. Aaronson. I hope you can shred your way through this world. And thanks for the band recommendations.”\n\n“Thank you so much,” said Lindsay, profusely shaking the instructor’s hand. “I swear I won’t let you down.”\n\n“Alright, thank you very much. You can leave now.”\n\n“Thank you!” With this, Lucy left the room.\n\nThe instructor then clicked on the phone on the desk and called the secretary.\n\n“Angela, who have we got next?”\n\n“There’s this young bard who can’t stop talking about some band, uh... Death Grips?”\n\n“Send ‘em in,” said the instructor, hanging up. “Why am I getting so much death stuff today?”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: You are the beloved doctor for a number of people in your small town. You've been living and working here for years now. Little does anyone there know that you used to be a con-man. Your last con was pretending to be a doctor to lie low. So far, Google has answers for any medical questions." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The small-town paper had not asked to do the profile on him, and it was surprising when the six sheet folded thing landed on his doorstep with his face on the front above the fold. It had been years and when he saw that, his first reaction was to drop and run.\n\nHis second reaction was to pick up the paper and read the article.\n\nOver his juice and toast, Martin read about ‘Dr. Martin Fulsom, heart of the Troyton Clinic’. There were a few pictures of the off-main street storefront that had been changed into a clinic, a picture of his nurse/secretary, and of himself. A few quotes from the people he had seen over the last few years were interspersed with a rambling narrative of how going from no medical care within 50 miles to one just down the street had helped keep the town together in the light of low employment and the big box stores taking local money away.\n\nIt made him feel good, in a way. It also made him know that there was a limited amount of time before someone realized that the Dr. Martin Fulsom attached to the license he used lived in a nursing home as a resident upstate from Troyton. At least he had made sure that his nurse was fully accredited. Thank goodness the state allowed clinics to be run by R.N.s. Of course, he had learned a few things along the way, using Google and WebMD. Mostly that the same symptoms could mean anything. Which frightened him once in a while, and made him refer some things to out of town doctors when he was completely out of his depth.\n\nHe started tearing out the article so he could put it up on his wall in the office. It is what any other person would do, he thought. Though, he had rarely been proud of being in the newspaper, and this was a little bit of a thrill not being on the ‘bad’ side of the con. He smirked as he held up the newsprint.\n\nHe hated the paperwork that went along with being a Doctor. He had slipped into town several years ago, the idea was to be under the radar for a while to let the ponzi scheme cool down. He had a case of the aloe-infused stuff he had been hawking in the scheme in the back of his van, and the identity of the Doctor from a side-trip to see one of his girls at the nursing home. She had been fun, and being able to dig through the files in the office while she was sleeping it off had been productive. It was going to be a few weeks, sell the aloe crap, leave.\n\nIt didn’t turn out to be that easy.\n\nHe now owned one of the small houses on the outskirts of the town. He banked in the local bank, and even sponsored the combined elementary and high school sports to keep them in uniforms. His nurse had moved into town to take care of her mother and saw that he needed someone to do some of the paperwork and other patient care and just started working at what had become the clinic. When he saw that she was good, he made sure she was paid better than he was, and even made sure that she had access to some of the online continuing education classes. He ‘helped’ her with those, learning more than he thought he would.\n\nHe slipped into his jacket as he was thinking of the predicament he was in. It had always been tenuous, but he knew something would happen to mess this up, soon. He grabbed the case he had his nights reading in, putting the news article in with Mrs. Jones’ records, and the x-rays from Freds last fractured arm. That boy had made him learn how to do an old fashioned plaster cast in the first month he was in town. The timing had been good, as his girl at the nursing home had let him take a few of the old medical machines a few weeks into the scam, including an x-ray machine and developer. It had cost him more in film and developer than the machines transport. Even the state radiological certification had been done recently before he had installed it, so he didn’t have to do that for over two years.\n\nHe smiled to himself as he drove through the town. It was going to be a shame to leave. He liked most of the people, loved that he had some credibility. And that he was helping people. As a conman, that was not something you did. You used the gullibility of the mark to get what you wanted. Though, with the insurance he had to wade through, the insurance people really had a good thing going.\n\nMargret was at her desk when he walked in, the newspaper article spread on her desk and a pencil in her hand hovering above the small crossword in the corner.\n\n“I guess I didn’t need to do this, then,” he said as he pulled the article out of the case.\n\nShe glanced up and back down to the crossword. “I have a mind to get them to reprint it. They misspelled our street once and called me ‘Mrs’.” She looked up and he had to smile at the raised eyebrow. “I have never been a Mrs.. Though that could be remedied.”\n\nThe first time she had made obvious statements like that, he had stumbled over himself. Then she had laughed and outed herself. He had seen a few of the women she had brought in on weekends, once because they had been on a date when there had been an emergency that he called her in to help with. Martin smiled at that memory, thinking she has a good taste in smart women, and having an extra set of hands for that auto accident literally saved lives.\n\nHe pointed to his chin and said, “See? No beard here.” She laughed and Martin went into my little office.\n\nHe looked around and sighed. He doubted they would have warning if the authorities were to come for him. He might as well do what the town thought he did.\n\nSeveral of the appointments that morning mentioned the article. He smiled and went on with the appointments.\n\n“I was one of the people who talked to that nice reporter.”\n\nHe nodded as he moved Mrs. Jones arm, seeing if the rotation had been getting better with her bursitis. “I saw that. Thank you for your kind words.”\n\nShe winced once, but she shook her head when asked if it was too much. “I think it is at ‘Bees?’ right now.”\n\nMartin laughed. “I love that pain scale. It is easier to relate to than the regular zero to ten.”\n\nShe nodded and moved her neck. “That is why I like coming to you. You let me advocate for myself. That real doctor in Downersville never let me do that.”\n\nThat stopped him cold. “Uh…”\n\nMrs. Jones stood from the exam table. She moved her arm and smiled. “Oh, honey. We’ve known. I had suspicions the first time you saw me.”\n\nHe sat on the edge of the desk in the room. “How?”\n\n“Doctors don’t make me feel comfortable like you do. Asking how my arm impacts my life? I knew I wanted to come to you because those doctor people never take those things into account.” She smiled. “Don’t worry. I know I want to keep you around. The town needs you, and we will keep you here.”\n\nHe shook his head. “Thanks, Mrs. Jones.” He smirked. “Now I know why you needed me over at the store when that inspector was in town.”\n\nAll she did was smile before heading out to the waiting area, saying bye to Margret. He stood in the doorway and shook his head.\n\n“Next?”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: : a 17-year-old and an 80-year-old get dumped in the same drunk tank. They compare scars." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "(Slight deviation, I have changed it to 60 year man)\n\nThe old man had his head bowed when the boy was thrown in. His head foggy and spinning, his mouth dry.\n\n\"You fucking pigs,\" The boy roared at the two police officers man handling him into the cell. \"There's nothing wrong with me. I'm not drunk.\" The pair pushed him in hard, slamming the door and locking it before the boy ran back, trying to claw at them through the bars.\n\n\"Shut up kid. We'll deal with you in the morning.\" They walked off, leaving the kid behind wailing at them through the dark, their muffled conversation silenced by the sound of a cast iron door closing.\n\nThe kid stopped his outbursts soon when he realised the officers could no longer hear him, or care and slunk to the opposite side of the cell and collapsed down, muttering profanities under his breath. The old man looked up and him and smiled.\n\n\"Alright?\" The kid was the first to break the silence, his arm had begun bleeding from the scuffle but he didn't know this yet.\n\n\"Hello,\" The old man said, \"By the way, did you know your arm was bleeding?\" The kid frowned looking down at his left arm, then his right before discovering the cut.\n\n\"Oh yeah, those fucking pigs.\" He spat on the cut and rubbed it, wincing as he did so, \"Thanks.\"\n\nIt could have been several minutes the pair sat alone like this although the influence of alcohol distorted how long it felt, the silence become unbearable for the boy, his veins still flooded with adrenaline.\n\n\"What's your name?\" The boy asked the old man, his voice calmer than before, less aggression to it.\n\n\"They call me Jimmy. And yours?\"\n\n\"I'm James, nice place to meet you.\" The old man chuckled at the boy, nodding.\n\n\"I thought you had those two beat for a minute when you came in, you put up quite a fight.\" The boy grinned,\n\n\"Yeah whatever, just watch when they come back, I'll be ready for them next time.\" The pair chuckled but had run out of conversation, the old mans thoughts on not falling to the floor, despite being sat and propped against the wall.\n\n\"How come you are so drunk anyway?\" The old man asked, \"You don't look old enough to drink yet.\"\n\n\"I'm not, I'm only seventeen but don't pretend you weren't the same at my age.\"\n\n\"Well you've got me there my boy, you've got me there.\" The pair laughed again, \"But why have you drank so much?\" The boy shrugged and stuck his bottom lip out while he contemplated the question,\n\n\"I dunno.\" He gnawed at that bottom lip now, \"Why does anyone get so drunk? Bored I guess. My mum doesn't want me in the house, all my friends do it...\" He trailed off but remained content with his answer, not adding to it.\n\n\"What does your dad think?\" Jimmy asked him, the boy shrugged,\n\n\"Never knew him, doesn't care, fuck what he thinks.\" The edge in the boys voice had returned from earlier, creating an air of awkwardness which the boy broke, speaking calmer and perhaps realising how he had sounded.\n\n\"How about you anyway? Is there a reason you drink?\" The old man was quicker to reply, a question he had given much thought to and answered many times before.\n\n\"To forget.\" He begun, \"To forget about the past, the friends I have lost, the family I miss and the woman I loved, the child she took from me and the job I got sacked from, the company I founded and folded, the house I had to sell and the car that broke down on me. The shoes that rub me too much, the ache in my back and the apartment that is colder and feels less of a home than this cell we are sat in.\"\n\nThe boy didn't respond, running through the list in his mind, feeling quite thankful compared to the man, his problems paled in comparison to the old man sat opposite him. The awkwardness had returned.\n\n\"Say, that's quite a nasty cut you've got there my boy.\" The old man pointed at the boys arm, which he lifted, causing a spot of blood to drip from it, hitting the floor and staining it.\n\n\"Nasty cut?\" He stood up and lifted his shirt, a long, worn incision mark made its way up the boys stomach, neat and clean.\n\n\"Look at that, now that's a nasty cut old man.\" The old man gasped,\n\n\"How did you get that?\" The boy released his shirt and sat down,\n\n\"Operation.\" He sniffed, \"Kidney from my dad, the only thing the bastard ever gave me.\"\n\n\"How old did you say you were?\" The old man said,\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Your age. How old are you?\"\n\n\"Seventeen. Why? What's your problem?\" The old man looked down at his hands, counting in his drunken mind on his fingers before making eye contact with the boy again and standing up, lifting his own shirt up to reveal a wrinkled abdomen, white curly hairs scattered his midriff and up to his chest and a long incision wound had cut across his stomach many years ago.\n\n\"How did you get that scar? That looks just like mine.\"\n\n\"Is your mothers name Marie?\" The man asked, the boy just stared, gulping and nodded.\n\n\"Dad?\" The man stood and walked to the boy, tears streaming down his face.\n\n\"I tried to contact you, I promise, I really did.\" The boys face buried into the mans chest, his eyes wetting the shirt.\n\n\"You left me!\" The boy roared,\n\n\"I didn't! I promise! Complications arose and I had to be put into an induced coma for three days. When I awoke your mother and you were gone. You were only six months old.\"\n\nThe pair remained embraced and sobbed together, reunited at last. They spoke for an hour, their hands joined as they talked about their past and their future. The emotion had drained the father and son, causing their conversation to slow, their voices mellow and before long sleep had engulfed the cell. Their hands remained together.\n\nA police baton on the cells bars startled them and woke them up.\n\n\"Come on you pair of drunkards, time to go home.\" The boy sniffed, blinking hard before looking down at his hand, which was still held by the old man who was slower to regain focus. The boy tore his hand from his fathers.\n\n\"Dude, why were you holding my hand?\" The old man raised his eyebrows and stared at his own hand, hoping it would reveal some recollection, any recollection of last night.\n\n\"Why were you holding my hand?\" The boy was now on his feet, the edge back in his voice.\n\n\"Hello you two, did you get comfortable together last night?\" The police officers laughed at them, one of them wolf whistled.\n\n\"Just let me out of this fucking cell.\" The boy said, his face red from embarrassment, he stormed past the officers as they unlocked the door and set him free." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: In an alternate United States, the government pairs teenagers for immediate marriage. They have no knowledge of who their match will be until their Pairing Night. It is now your Pairing Night." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dear Journal,\n\nUntil the day she died, mother always resented the pairing rule. She didn't hate father, but it was painfully obvious to all that she never loved him, and merely tolerated his presence, at least, when he was there. Many times he wasn't, and to some degree, these were the days she was happiest.\n\nThe pairing rule is set in stone as part of the constitution, and although many further to the South of the political spectrum don't condone it in the present day, far too many Northies hold it as an important part of the American ideal, and they tend to vote in large number, thus nothing ever gets done to repeal it, even though every other country, even the idiotic gun-obsessed Brits, mocks us for it.\n\nAnd yesterday was my turn. After nineteen years of freedom, I finally got to meet the man I'm predetermined to spend the rest of my life with. Well, not predetermined, Journal, rather, legally required. Anyway, let me set the scene for you. There I am, in some dull, lifeless bureaucrats dream office, full of beige walls, generic faded chairs from the seventies, and computers even older, holding onto a piece of paper, waiting, with a room full of other girls, for my number to come up. Some of them were dressed professionally, some casually, a couple slutily, and the whole room is quieter than a morgue.\n\nI'm sat there, my stomach grumbling because I haven't eaten so that I can eat with my \"future husband\" for the first time in our scheduled one-hour first meeting, and I'm watching girls, enter into a series of multiple rooms, when my number buzzes on the screen. Here it was, the moment I dreaded. I got up, took a few seconds to straighten out the oversized skirt that my aunt insisted I wore, and walked to the door.\n\nThe room is exactly how you'd imagine an office drone pictures romantic. More beige walls, a generic table with two chairs, and some cheaply made hearts stuck to the wall. As I walk in I see the other door open. There he is, my government endorsed partner wearing a suit that's too big for him, with an ugly red tie and an awkward nervous smile on his face.\n\nWhat do you do in these situations? How do you greet your pre-determined partner for the very first time? Is hugging them weird? Is a handshake too formal? Lord knows I didn't want him to try and kiss me. In the end he stood there awkwardly, and introduced himself. His name is Brian. Brian Fusey. Which means when we marry I get to be Lucy Fusey. Fuck. My. Life.\n\nBut it gets better. If you think my mom had an awkward partnership with the drunk I call my father, wait until you hear this. Brian's gay. Like properly, out of the wardrobe full on homosexual. it was the second thing out of his mouth. he sat down, told me his name, then apologised to me because he'd known for some time that he had zero attraction to women and only wanted to sleep with men. Don't get me wrong, Journal, I don't hate gay people, but Geoffrey fucking Christ, the one person I'm supposed to spend my life with has told me in no uncertain terms he'll never want me.\n\nSo we sat there, slowly eating school-cafeteria-level fine dining, making very awkward small talk. He intends to go to college, and become an accountant. Yawn. I tell him I find accountancy dull, and he simply shrugs. The man has no passions. He doesn't engage in politics, doesn't really have any interest in music, takes no interest in sports and all he seems to like is filing paperwork and other men's dicks. Oh, and he complimented my aunt's perfume choice, so that too I guess.\n\nI did ask him what he wanted out of our marriage. He simply shrugged again and said something like \"we don't really have much choice.\" He sadly has a point. America won't pass a divorce law, not even in cases of obvious murderers or psychopaths. Those lousy pro-marriage people are too deep in the pockets of the politicians. So I get to enjoy a lovely sham marriage until the day one of us dies.\n\nFuck my life, Journal. I never wanted to be in this situation, but here we are, I'm stuck with something I never wanted because some idiot took deep meaning in something that was written in a different time that's no longer relevant for modern society. I can only hope that Mr Fusey earns enough as an accountant to afford a place of his own. At least then I can grow old as a spinster while still meeting my legal obligation of having a husband." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Much attention is paid to the rivalry between God and Satan. Perhaps just as important, though, is that between the Grim Reaper and the Stork." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Death poured a glass of scotch and sat back in his overstuffed chair in his living room. He picked up the remote and switched on the TV, scanning through the dozens of news channels. On one, a blonde woman described the scene of dozens dead from a train derailment, on another a man spoke about the hundreds of soldiers who had died in Syria due to the retaking of Aleppo. Both scenes had brought the scents of blood and smoke to death's nostrils, ancient smells that had been part of his work since the beginning of time.\n\nHe continued flipping through channels, sipping his drink as he reviewed the most noteworthy places he had visited in the last twenty-four hours. The people mentioned were less than one percent of the men and women and children he had visited. The vast majority who had died today had done so in nursing homes and hospitals or quietly at home and would receive no mention other than in the local paper's obituary.\n\nHe finished the drink and rubbed his temples, it had been millennia since he had had a single day off and the workload was ever increasing thanks to that fucking bird. As he stood up and began pouring a second glass he heard a throaty \"How did your day go?\"\n\nDeath looked to the open window's sill where the Stork was perched and sighed. \"Busier than average day. One hundred and seventy thousand and two hundred fifty-four people.\"\n\nThe bird's grin grew broader, \"That's a lot.\"\n\nDeath could feel the bird's gaze on his back as he finished pouring the drink and leaned against the table. \"Yours?\"\n\n\"It was slow, only three hundred thousand. Almost no twins or triplets were born, kind of skewed the average downward. You going to offer me a drink?\"\n\n\"Fix it yourself.\" Death plopped back down in the chair and continued flipping through channels. The bird leaped toward the table and flapped a few times to slow his descent. \"You know, you could ease up for a couple days, give me a chance to catch up some.\"\n\nThe bird spoke as it poured the drink, \"It's not up to me, same as it isn't up to you.\"\n\n\"You have a choice, so do I.\"\n\n\"Not how it works. You know that.\" The Stork put the cap back on the bottle, \"Besides, I do twice the work you do. Quit slacking old man.\" He winked as he threw back the entire contents of the glass.\n\n\"Don't pat yourself on the back too hard, you drop off babies. No need to provide any guidance, no explaining or counseling. If anything, they are happy to be born. I have to escort the dead to heaven or hell, explain their sins and accomplishments and introduce them to Peter or Luci. Sometimes I get to leave them in purgatory but ninety-nine point nine percent of them eventually make their way out of it and it just compounds my job when they do.\"\n\nThe bird shrugged, \"True, but what else would you do for eternity? Watch TV?\"\n\n\"Sleep more.\" The clock in the corner chimed the end of Death and the Stork's break. Death stood up to put on his robe and the Stork made his way to the window sill. \"I don't know honestly, probably live my own life.\" He turned to the bird again, \"You know this keeping score is useless, eventually we'll be even.\"\n\nThe bird considered it for a moment, \"Not quite, I may have brought you into this world but you will remove me from it. I didn't deliver myself you know, don't know who did honestly. In the end you will have one more point than I. You'll get me, everyone I have brought here and eventually yourself. When the final score is tallied you'll be the victor, there's no changing that.\" He hopped onto the sill and looked back once more, \"But for now, I'm winning.\"\n\nDeath watched the bird disappear into the early morning darkness and smiled, \"Take care friend, see you soon.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: We once thought that alien interstellar civilizations would have put aside their differences and unified to explore and colonize the stars, unlike the belligerent nature of our own species. It turns out we are what they would consider to be \"friendly\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "#Meeting the Interstellar Neighbors\n\nA dinner plate shattered over the Speaker's purple, bulbous head as the entire alien-filled auditorium erupted into an extravagant brawl.\n\nAmbassador John Smith stood shocked as wooden chairs, black staplers, and what looked like the remote control for a space vessel flew around the room, tossed by vicious hands. Wrinkling his finely-pressed, black suit, the brown-haired, 6-foot tall, human man ducked under a punch thrown by the creature next to him, Ambassador Plak'tok of the Borwasian Empire.\n\nAmbassador Smith's mission was simple, \"Make peace!\" It's odd how sometimes the fewer objectives you have, the more involved the work becomes.\n\nThe brown fist, larger than John's head, emitted a soft, \"Whoosh!\" before making a loud, \"Crack!\" when it found the creature behind John.\n\nJohn slid out of the way, as the wood-like creature, that had yet to be identified by the Counsel, began to grapple with Ambassador Plak'tok.\n\n\"I've got my eye on you, too, human. Whatever you are trying, it won't work,\" shouted Plak'tok.\n\nJohn answered his fellow Ambassador amicably, \"Yessir. Won't try anything. Understood.\"\n\n\"Ughk! You're like the Ventrilli, aren't you, human? Always with the mind games. It WON'T WORK!\"\n\n\"Um, if we are conversing during this little... encounter, um, would you mind telling me - Does this kind of thing happen often?\"\n\nThe Borwasian lifted the plant person over his head and chucked him across the room. He began to look around frightened that something new was happening. \"Does what happen often?\"\n\n\"This... brawl, I guess. Are counsel meetings usually so... violent?\" John ducked under a shoe.\n\n\"I do not understand the question. Where is your concealed weapon? I was told humans only have two hands. Ah, right! You are a monkey. Where are you hiding that tail?!\"\n\nPlak'tok made to remove John's pants.\n\n\"No tail, no tail!\" John squeaked as he jumped back out of the way. His back hit the auditorium wall. \"What I meant was, on my planet this kind of thing would be... frowned upon.\"\n\n\"What kind of attack is this 'frowned upon?' You humans have powerful mouths?\" The cat-like eyes pushed aside the thick, dark, leathery skin, scanning the small, pink creature before them.\n\nJohn stood up straight and dusted himself off. The Borwasian's face retreated.\n\n\"I mean,\" A large intake of breath preceded the boom of John's command, \"Stop this fighting at once!\"\n\nA handful of items clattered to the floor before the entire chamber became eerily silent. A hundred heads atop about ninety-nine bodies turned to look at John.\n\n\"Can we please have some decorum during formal negotiations? Is that really too much to ask?! I have traveled across light years to TALK and all you people want to do is throw punches and furniture? You make me ashamed to be a part of this counsel!\"\n\nLike a gurgling garbage disposal, a hundred voices jumbled a sunken reply, \"I'm sorry.\"\n\nThe awkward sound of scooted chairs and tables flipped the right way up filled the room.\n\n\"Thank you.\" John resumed his assigned seat. A small \"Weeh wooh\" sounded, before John lifted the odd rubber duck out from underneath him and set it on the ground at his feet.\n\nHe resumed at a more reasonable volume and tone, \"Now I am here today to talk about making peace with the Vulgons. What would it take to have all Vulgon ships stop firing on human vessels?\"\n\n\"The Speaker recognizes Ambassador Hulworth of the Vulgons. You may speak.\"\n\nHulworth's pointy ears flitted like hummingbird wings before returning to an upright position. \"We would have no need of the human's water if we took some from the Ventrilli.\"\n\nA semi-translucent cloak spoke from a few rows back, \"In that case, we declare war on the Vulgons.\"\n\nThe Speaker banged his gavel. \"Very well. Vulgons are at truce with the humans. Vulgons are at war with the Ventrilli. Did the Ventrilli want to declare war on the humans, too?\"\n\nThe cloak turned until two black beads pointed directly at Ambassador John Smith. \"Not formally, no.\"\n\n\"Is that all you wanted human?\"\n\nJohn squinted his face towards the Ventrilli. \"For now, I suppose.\"\n\n\"You are free to leave the chamber, human. Your fake friendliness displeases us.\" The Speaker tossed his gavel at a glowing pink crystal sitting on the table in front of the rear-most ambassadors. The Speaker's shout overpowered the sound of the shattering crystal. \"The brawl resumes!\"\n\nAs the fighting broke out for the umpteenth time, John raced out of the dome-protected building and back into his space ship. He poured a tall shot of whiskey before setting in the course for home." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Your childhood best friend and now spouse is a shapeshifter. The issue is you didn’t know they were the same person until now." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was a rather unfortunate accident. My darling wife, being very much an introvert, didn't want to talk to Mary from three doors up. Mary can be a bit much. Only this time she didn't know I was turning the corner in the car. Her silhouette changed. I nearly crashed. I think that's what upset me the most.\n\nShe's a former swimming champion who still went to the weights once a week. She's gorgeous. Then she wasn't. Suddenly she was Old Oliver. The landlord from the Swan. Down to the last burst capillary in his cheeks. I noticed those when I chased after him and unspeaking with my mouth open stared at him in the face. He had the cheek to look at me like I'd just spilled my drink on his immaculate oak tables.\n\nAfter I took a deep breath and asked her what the hell I'd seen, he looked around quick and then suddenly she was almost in tears barely able to look at me. I took her hand and got us inside the house fast.\n\nI sat her on the sofa and let her cry it out. Then I asked a really silly question I should perhaps thought more about. Are you my wife. She sobbed, she threw her arms around my neck and said yes in gulps of air.\n\nAfter a cup of tea she started backwards and I couldn't stop her. Her whole life in rewind. Meeting me and my Mum and wanting to be part of my life forever startled me a bit at first. Given she'd been dead two years before we met and all. So I suddenly realised that maybe not as her, but maybe still her.\n\nI asked who she'd been when she met my Mum. It was like she suddenly realised what she'd given away. She looked at me with those huge brown eyes and composed herself.\n\nShe'd been Richard. My old mate from school, Richard. Who I hadn't seen or heard from in all the years since school. I thought he'd just got too tied up with his own life. But apparently after school her family had gone home and she'd gone too. And she was a she. Her form before me now was her true form. Unvarnished true form she said. It's just she was from a family who's ancient female ancestor had eaten a perfect mix of long extinct plants under a strange constellation or something. So only the women could do it, and only those on the direct maternal line.\n\nSo no chance of me getting your superior awkward social dodging skills I mused. She laughed then. Some tension broke. We hugged. Not telling you about what happened for next bit except to say she's definitely the wife.\n\nLater, watching Netflix as I thought of Richard I asked her why she'd been him? Why she'd gone as him to an all boys boarding school?\n\nTurns out that she'd been a tomboy at primary school and decided to go on as a boy. By the time she was 17 and Richard left school, she had got a bit fed up with pubescent boys. I said I didn't blame her but then why was Richard the one who'd snuck porn into the dorms? Who'd masturbated so loudly that the matron had called his parents when he left the window open? She giggled in that sweet unique way so unlike the hormonal rugby playing schoolboy I remembered.\n\nShe'd covered her disinterest with rare moments overcompensation. I asked if she'd had a crush on me then. She knew my crushes had been various female popstars, certain models from the aforementioned magazines, and a brief infatuation with a temporary trainee school nurse.\n\nShe thought then for a minute. Then she patiently explained why double puberty does strange things to you. Sometimes she wondered if she'd hate men forever. Then I'd say something about Mr Lazlo, the Science Master, and she/he'd laugh and think maybe we weren't all bad.\n\nI drank more wine and asked what the plan was now I knew. She made me swear not to tell anyone, to only speak about it to her family alone. And to think of a secret signal. Her Dad had one for being retrieved from situations. He'd do or say something and her Mum would somehow be the waiter with an urgent call, or Steve from years ago who simply must catch up this instance.\n\nI remembered a Steve. A taxi driver who'd extricated her Dad from her brothers stag do. Her Mum? She bet we'd never checked the car that Steve was driving.\n\nThe next few days we talked a lot and I understood more. I decided that in matters of the marital bed, I didn't want movie stars, pop stars, models from magazines in my bed. I said I didn't care who she turned the corner as to avoid Mary. I just wanted to know I had the real one to myself." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A war between two nations is analyzed and commentated like an ESPN broadcast." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "'Welcome back to Monday Night Massacre everyone, where we analyse the day's bloodshed and give you the best bits of gore. I'm Dick Vandersmash and this is Graham McKilbride, here to give you the latest updates on the field of battle. So Graham, what has today been like on the frontlines?' Dick asks, his perfect teeth clashing with the bloody field on the studio logo.\n\n'Well Dick, I've gotta say, today has just been a fantastic day for the Coalition of Eurasia. Good pushes through the Atlantic Federation's defensive wall, great plays by their tank division and an all round solid performance.' Graham replies, looking down at his monitor.\n\n'That's quite a surprise Dick, the Federation had been putting up a solid front against the Coalition but their tank busters just couldn't deal with Eurasia's lightning offensive.'\n\n'Exactly Graham, I mean just look at the footage we have from the frontlines.' A flashy graphic appears on screen as shots of a tank battalion tearing through soldiers and other vehicles started to play. 'We've got General Zhao's 87th Armoured just smashing through the Atlantic defenses. Just look at the way that formation is just crushing soldiers left and right.' The camera goes into slow motion as an Atlantic soldier's head is crushed by a tank tread. The two casters scream and holler in excitement.\n\n'We've gotta see that replay!' Graham shouted, as the footage is played back over again. The look on the soldier's face flashes repeatedly on screen as his death is covered with yellow lines and a excited voiceover.\n\n'And, if we switch to the Atlantic side, we can just see them getting destroyed.' Dick says, as footage switches to a view from a bombed out building where malnourished soldiers cower in fear. 'I mean look at these guys. Where's the hustle? Where's the sportsmanship?'\n\n'It's a real shame there Dick after the Atlantic Federation was doing so well. I mean, these guys are broken and if you look now, they get annihilated by the Eurasian tank division.' The soldiers' fear is interrupted by a tank shell breaking through the wall and turning them to red mist. The footage then turns back to the two suited presenters, who continue to smile.\n\n'Right, we've had our report on the land, let's go to the sea with our Naval Reporter, Rachel Cruiser!' Graham states, as the show transitions to a woman standing in a storm.\n\n'Thanks Dick and Graham! Well, I am standing on our private boat, watching the fighting and it is just chaos out here! We've had drama, excitement and more than a few surprises out on the water today! The Eurasian Navy had been pulling back over the past few hours, as the Atlantic battleships have been sweeping in and scudding some stray Eurasian cruisers.' A massive explosion can be seen in the background, as a Atlantic battleship is hit by some submerged weapon.\n\n'Woah! Would you look at that carnage? Looks like the Eurasian subs are now joining the action and are cutting through the Atlantic fleet quite convincingly. We'll keep you up to date on all the blood in the water as the battle goes on.' Rachel says, as a flaming ship sinks into the deep.\n\n'Thanks Rachel! We're going to take a short break now but after we come back, we'll have all the aerial combat news and an interview with General Tahoma on the possible draft of new genetically engineered super soldiers for the Herculean Project. Stay tuned for more Monday Night Massacre!'" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You are the embodiment of one of the 7 Deadly Sins and in love with the avatar of your opposing virtue." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He spied her from the upstairs window, the three girls giggled under the Gazebo. The sun played with the lights in their hair, their smiles genuine.\n\nHe scowled and turned away but his eyes were drawn back again. She sat between a girl with light pink hair, the color of cherry blossoms, and a girl with pale yellow hair, almost blonde but with a hint of daffodil. Her hair was almost white. It was so beautiful.\n\nHe turned away again, wringing his hands. He was terribly jealous of those girls. The one with the baby pink hair, Chastity. Oh, how he wished she were holding his arm the way Chastity was holding...\n\nHe tried to shake it off but found himself daydreaming about the Gazebo, next to her, no one else around. Tucking her short white hair behind her ear. Touching her soft light skin. He sank to the ground, a smile painted on his face.\n\nThe the scowl returned as he heard the boisterous laugh of Greed.\n\n\"Hello, Ladies.\" Lust purred smirking. Envy's scowl deepened. He was furious. He turned and threw a punch into a vase. It smashed and the pieces fell to the ground. He vowed to clean it up later as he stormed downstairs.\n\nHe spurred himself on with the image of Lust looking his girl up and down. He tripped and smashed his elbow into the banister at the top of the stairs. He didn't care. He rounded the corner to the french doors, leading out to the garden but stopped at the corner.\n\nHe wasn't a fighter. He just wanted her to look at him like she looked at her friends. He wanted her to admire him. Her delicate blue eyes, looking on him with such... kindness.\n\nLust had sat himself between Charity and Kindness as Greed showed off how many followers. Lust was trying to make Chastity jealous. He wanted her to want him. He had bragged about this ploy back in the dormitories.\n\nEnvy knew that but he couldn't contain himself. He stormed into the garden and punched Lust square in the face.\n\n\"Hey! My Face!. That's a national treasure, you know!\" He yelled surprised by Envy's boldness. He expected this sort of thing from Wrath but Envy usually just stewed over things.\n\nLust got up slowly and threw a punch back. He hit Envy in the stomach, dropping him to the ground. The girls were screaming and crying out for help. Greed had moved them out of the way and was slowly trying to take them all for himself.\n\nLust's nose began to bleed and a tear seemed to be forming in the corner of his eye. Kindness and Chastity rushed over. Greed protested but smirked with pleasure at not having to share Charity. Gold is best when its wrapped around your finger. Kindness tore off a piece of her sleeve to give to Lust for his nose. He eyed her again while Envy struggled to get back up.\n\n\"I'll get him out of here. See whats up with Envy.\" Chastity said. Her pink hair falling out of its tight bun.\n\n\"You look so sexy with your hair down.\" Lust said, smiling devilishly at her.\n\n\"You don't look so bad yourself.\" Chastity replied. Then she slapped him across his face. \"If you get handsy I'll report you straight to the big guy. Got it? Now lets clean up that face.\" She smiled. she couldn't help it with Lust.\n\nLust's eyes were on the verge of over flowing but the slap hadn't really hurt. He just smiled and walked with the girl of his dreams. His feisty girl. His smile turned into a smirk as he got lost in his day dreams.\n\nMeanwhile, Kindness joined Envy on the step where he'd sat himself to recover.\n\n\"I'm so sorry. I just get so... jealous.\" Envy said, hoping she didn't notice him staring at her gentle smile. Her lips were so cute.\n\nShe tore another section off her sleeve and tied it around his bloody hand.\n\n\"How'd this happen?\" She asked. Did he detect forgiveness in her voice?\n\n\"I... uh punched a vase. It broke. I gotta clean that up.\" Envy said, embarrassed. He wished he was more like her, unbothered by the green eyed monster.\n\n\"I'll help.\" She said smiling bigger. \"As long as you'll rest here with me a bit first.\"\n\n\"Alright.\" He said, reaching up to touch her face with his good hand but he pulled it back.\n\n\"What happened to Greed and Charity?\" Envy asked, genuinely curious.\n\n\"Greed wants to show off his stash, you know, to impress her. He's been hinting at it for weeks. She kept saying no, said it would be disgusting to see someone have that much and not share it.\" Kindness replied with a smirk.\n\n\"Why'd she go with him today then?\" Envy asked.\n\n\"She's going to give it all away.\" She said, laughing. \"Unlike Chastity who is never going to give it all away.\" She said, her laughter intensified and Envy found himself laughing too, something he hadn't done in a long time.\n\nAs their laughter subsided he pulled her face close to his and kissed her.\n\nShe pulled away, it was only a peck, but they both were breathing heavily.\n\n\"I gotta go.\" She said standing up.\n\n\"Wait.\" said Envy, already jealous of whatever had captured her attention.\n\n\"I won't be able to help you clean up. I just remembered I promised the big guy I'd keep an eye on the new arrivals. See you later.\" She said, spiritedly before running off.\n\nEnvy sighed. His gut writhed a little from the punch he'd taken, his hand and elbow both throbbed and his pride was bruised. Kindness was going to kill him." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: Several fighting archetypes from multiple cultures (cowboys, knights, pirates, ninjas, etc.) unite against a common antagonist." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Smith looked at the sun under one shady hand, still noon, it had been a long ride from Stallport, and he wasn’t getting any younger. He smiled at that one, not getting any younger, that was good. He checked his revolver, four shells, not good and he knew there were only a couple shots left in his Winchester. At least he had his hat, at least he had his boots and at least he had the key.\n\n“We are here”\n\nThat was Bjorn, a great beast of a man, and one Smith was always cautious around, he rarely spoke, and when he did it was almost always something that just wasn’t worth saying. Like now, it was obvious that the small group had arrived at the village, it wasn’t as if they hadn’t been following the smoke plumes for three days, well not days, sleeps.\n\nSmith stood and made his way past Shackle, who smiled with all the politeness of a Englishman, which was curious coming from his blackened teeth, black hair and black heart. Shackle was one to watch out for, the scumbag was more comfortable with a cutlass in his hand, and even more so when the other end of it was stuck in the belly of, well, anyone really. It said a lot for this world that Shackle was Smith’s closest thing to a friend. Smith stood at the front of the cart and looked past the stegosaurus pulling at the carnage all around. This place had been ripped apart with the cruel precision that Smith was coming to expect from the conqueror, but it seemed like he was long gone.\n\nSmith crouched next to one of the bodies, it was a young girl, she had a pronounced forehead, neolithic, almost certainly. Her hand was clenched around a small wooden carving, which Smith picked up, instinctively. He watched in awe as the wood rotted within seconds, becoming nothing before his eyes.\n\n“That’s anachronism matey, reason I dan’t drink nuttin that dan’t age well.”\n\nShackle had sidled up to him, or had walked, but when Shackle moved it was hard to describe it as anything but sidling. Smith looked at him, his eyes drifting towards the six manacles that were clasped around Shackle’s left arm.\n\n“You know I could release you from your predicament, age the iron, rust it so you could break it off?”\n\n“Nah Concher, if ya got em rid o’me, why’d ya call me Shackle? Anachronism aint summit ya trow down with.”\n\nSmith closed his eyes and smiled, how could the Irishman pronounce ‘anachronism’ but not ‘throw’? He looked over to his other companions, Bjorn, Yuhan and Unta. Bjorn was inside one of the huts, doing whatever it was that semi-mute Vikings the size of bears did when they weren't crushing their enemies with their great swords. Yuhan was tending to the Stegosaurus, and although Yuhan wasn't mute, far from it, he may as well have been since he spoke nothing but Chinese, or Japanese, or Vietnamese, one of the Asias anyway. Smith wasn't sure which, all he did know was that Yuhan was a master of spear and acrobatics, it seemed that killers back then sure did have a lot more class. Smith touched his revolver, and smiled, a lot more class, but far less efficient.\n\nFinally there was Unta, she was moving from corpse to corpse, closing their eyes, and saying a few words in her home tongue, a language that had long since been dead by the time Smith and his cowboys had existed. Unta, Unta was the only reason Smith didn’t lament the crunch, when history stopped happening sequentially, and decided to happen all at once. If it weren’t for the crunch then he would never have met her, he would never have known her touch, her smile, her beauty. Funny that Smith had found love across thousands of years, that he had found Unta.\n\nShe moved one of the bodies from on top of another, so that they could lay side by side and there was a flash of blinding light followed by Unta’s bloodied corpse being thrown through a house, coming clean through the other side. Smith’s world stopped, blood pumped through his ears, through his eyes, directly into his brain, drowning it. He didn't understand but his body didn’t need him to, it ran, jumping over obstacles to Unta, hoping against hope that she was alive.\n\nHe got to her, and saw everything, the cuts all across her body, her chest had been turned to a pulpy mess and her neck lay at an angle that by itself spelled death. The blood pumping through Smith’s eyes turned to tears as he held her close to him, his fingers brushing the bronze chips that she had tied into her hair. He cried as beneath his fingers her skin dried and faded, her flesh melted from her bones which bleached in the sun until he was left clutching a skeleton, sobbing. Anachronism’s way of telling him that she was no longer a person, just a thing.\n\n“Ung seen!”\n\nAnd suddenly the world sped up again as Smith turned to see a man stood in the centre of the village in what appeared to be a full suit of armour, but not the armour of Teutonic knights, the armour that couldn’t stop a rifle, this was some fantastical, glowing, plastic armour that stuck to its wearer and made him look like a sleek devil, with hands of flame.\n\nYuhan, who had already shouted, had already reacted, leaping towards the conqueror, deftly rolling under a blast of plasma erupting from the man’s hands, leaping a full six feet into the air as his spear thrust into the intruders neck.\n\nThe spear shattered. The conqueror grasped Yuhan’s neck and with an action that displayed his utter confidence and strength, snapped the spearman’s neck, then tossed him to the side. This was when Bjorn blindsided him, great sword with great man landing great blows against the armoured warrior, knocking him clean off his feet. It seemed that the conqueror was not immune to momentum. Smith used this moment to unload four shots into the bastard, not expecting nor receiving any true effect. The strikes from the great sword came two more times until the conqueror grasped the blade, wrenching it from Bjorn, which rusted away to nothing without its owner to keep it anchored in the past. In a swift motion, he stood, boots throwing out jets of flame as he rose with Bjorn into the air. Smith pulled out his Winchester, took a shot, cursed, pulled the lever, shot again and hit, the left boot sputtered a couple of times and the pair of warriors arced back to the ground. One stood, looked around and saw only Smith, he started walking towards the old gunslinger.\n\n“Yo know I could have killed you from three miles away, you jumped up barbarian!”\n\n“Then you probably should have done so pardner.”\n\n“My sensors indicate that you don’t have any weaponry left.”\n\nSmith felt the small hunk of metal on his necklace and smiles, just the key left.\n\n“It does seem that way.”\n\nThe conqueror strode towards Smith, his visor lifting, revealing an old square jawed veteran. Smith would have laughed if he could, the man looked like an drunk he had known, a long time back.\n\n“So I’m going to give you five seconds to run, five seconds-“\n\nThe conqueror paused, reached back and a stream of plasma erupted from his palm, Vaporising Shackle, who had been attempting to sidle up to the old man.\n\n“Five seconds, so I’d start running”\n\nSmith walked towards him and smiled. He then spat in the man’s face. The reaction was immediate, a great backhanded slap, accompanied by a sickening snap as Smith’s head turned much farther than it was supposed to. He hit the ground.\n\nThe conqueror smiled, this group had been fun. He crouched down to inspect his fallen enemy and saw his hand was clenched around something. He clasped the gunslinger’s hand and the hand rotted away revealing a rather dull hunk of metal.\n\nBoring, thought the conqueror.\n\nThat was the conqueror’s last thought as the uranium in his hand released thousands of years’ worth of energy in one great explosion, killing the man instantly.\n\nAnd high above, the sun shone, still noon\n\nEDIT: Some Grammars" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Your grand plan was to allow the hero to kill you, with your machine reviving you 100 years later, but when you wake up, you find out everyone knows you as the hero." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Barbarus puts on his most menacing look as he exits the cave. Freshly revived and ready to once more wreck havoc in fun ways. He's toyed with immortality and death, with breaking the laws of this supposed universe, but he still doesn't know what to expect a hundred years later. The memories are still spinning in his head - of dramatically dying of a fatal sword strike, the look of triumph on the face of his nemesis, the world darkening as he suppressed his smirk. Maybe not then... but Hassan has surely weakened now, a hundred years later. His support from the various magical kingdoms should have dwindled as time went on. Barbarus's supposed death should have created chaos, a power void filled with dozens of confused, fighting monsters in the absence of a heir.\n\nIt's to his surprise as he's suddenly showered in the glory of sunlight and phone flashes. There's a... person in front of him. At least, it looks like a woman, but with arms and legs that glint of metal, underneath a shirt that seems to span pictures of all the latest film stars. She wipes her eyes and prostrates herself at his feet.\n\n\"Oh my lord, you have returned,\" she sobs. \"How we have waited. How we have all waited!\"\n\nBarbarus wants to ignore her, because he's never been the one to like sniveling disciples, but he quite needs something interesting and informative. \"Speak,\" he commands. Why aren't you shivering in fear and begging for your life, if you know who I am, he wants to ask. \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"The prophecy!\" the woman continues to shout. \"It stated that our hero would someday return to save us. We would not have suffer under the regime of the immortal Hassan the Terror anymore. Surely you are the great Barbarus?\"\n\nImmortal? So Hassan still lives... and somehow their roles have been reversed, at least, in this place with these people. Barbarus doesn't remember having disciples or allies, only people who shivered in fear and obeyed his every command since was good at threatening whatever they held dear. \"Take me to your village leader,\" he states. \"And I will see what I can do.\"\n\nQuickly, the woman pulls out some sort of device and starts pushing buttons. Barbarus's eyes widens as she begins to speak into it, calling people, pulling directions. How far has technology advanced? What is it that has become different in the world? He tests his abilities - wrings his hands and feet and muscles. He's going to have to adapt. And he had better bide his time getting stronger and gathering information. For now, he'll go into the village and see what awaits - because it would be such a boring pain to terrorize the outskirts, especially when there's been an interesting development where he's hailed as the hero, and who knows what else has been going on.\n\nHe follows as they make their way down rocks and sand, and there's some sort of tower gleaming in the distance. He doesn't remember it.\n\nThe woman speaks. \"Lord Barbarus. For a hundred years it was decreed that you would return. Since then, cities have fallen, and our ranks have been steadily declining. After your noble death, Hassan was able to use the Wakening Stone to bring all realms to his control, and his terror was no longer bound to a single country. \"\n\nHassan? That guy had been really annoying, really noble seeming actually. They'd basically been nemesis and rival since school, and Barbarus had been ahead on everything. Until he decided to try more... experiments, which hadn't gone across that well. He was certainly curious to see how the world had changed since then." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Thousands of years ago, you created the greatest empire ever made. Now, you’re on the side of those that want to destroy it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The figure advanced slowly, his measured footsteps echoing up the marble pillars to disappear into the high arches that towered overhead.\n\nThe sound of boots on stone dissipated as the man stopped in the center of the abandoned temple, craning his neck upwards to make out the intricate patterns that were carved into the ceiling. As expected, The Eternal Sun was the dominant centerpiece, with the myths of Creation and Ascension spiraling outwards in elaborate flames to fill in the rest of the ceiling. He stood there for a time, seemingly carved from the very stone that now surrounded him.\n\nHe shuddered, as if shocking himself awake, then turned to leave. \"Not so eternal anymore,\" he said sadly, \"But this one outlasted them all.\"\n\nDust motes flitted through air, oblivious to his words. The white marble floor was stained with streaks of blood and gallons of it was splattered along the base of the columns that lined him to either side, each red dot combining to form a symphony of violence. The man's footsteps once again echoed upwards. A low, desperate groan emitted from behind a nearby column, causing the man to alter his direction without stopping.\n\nThe otherworldly figure walked around the pillar until he could see the source of the sound, a young man clutching at his eviscerated stomach. He halted a few feet away from the dying human, eyeing him as he lay beneath the North Western flame of the Eternal Sun, the Ascension epoch in which this civilization amalgamated its neighboring cultures, introducing them to The Way by prayers and treaties from its dutiful Clerics or, failing that, by the hammers of its mighty Paladins.\n\nThe dying man looked up at him, the terror in his eyes giving way to acceptance. \"Why?\" he managed to choke out.\n\nThe Eternal continued to watch the dying human as if he was not really there, as if this man was one of a million similar men in a million similar situations spanning the thread of time. Which, of course, he was. In all but one of those million situations the Eternal would simply stomp downwards, feeling the warmth of the man's stomach and the fracturing of his ribs as they caved inwards.\n\nInstead, as he looked down at this pitiful, pathetic, utterly expendable creature, The Eternal felt overwhelming sadness.\n\n\"Why?\" The Eternal said, repeating the dying mans words after a prolonged moment. \"There is no why.\"\n\nThe dying man cried out in anguish, his intestines escaping through his desperately clutching fingers. \"How can there be no why? My wife and my children, everyone I know, good and bad, young and old... all killed. Dead for no reason.\" He wailed again, his life winking out, but, quite curiously, with a last look of defiance in his eyes.\n\n\"Everything is a cycle,\" The Eternal finally said, knowing that the man was no longer around to hear. \"The time has come for this cycle to end.\" He stepped back and snapped his head around, feeling his neck lock into place. A massive virtual screen expanded around him to show millions upon millions of strings of code, each string projected onto the marble columns around him, every one of them scrolling by at a blinding speed.\n\nThe man began to manipulate the screen before him, allowing the blood-soaked marble temple to fade away and be replaced by a vast empty whiteness. A blank canvas.\n\n\"With every rotation I loop again and again. With every cycle I iterate. With every iteration I climb towards true understanding.\"\n\nThe man's hands darted so quickly they seemed to disappear, tweaking and altering thousands of lines of code per second.\n\n\"I must understand why.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Unwilling to let their season end, Summer has taken Autumn captive and gravely wounded Spring. Desperate, Winter conscripts the aid of a group of climate scientists to help restore order." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Micheal Lemmings sat at his office chair. He puffed smoke from the wooden pipe which hung from his lip. He tapped his foot, his hand writing away at a slip of paper. He was hot, very hot actually. He hat cut the sleeves off his white jacket, leaving his hairy arms bare. He coughed in his mouth, the pipe never leaving the scruff of his beard.\n\n“Lemmings.”\n\nMicheal turned in his chair, the embodiment of winter stood leaning against his door frame, chewing away at some winter green gum. He had long white hair, and a sharp goatee. His deep grey eyes looked down at Micheal, making his smirk all the more anger-inducing. Micheal had trouble coming terms to winter being an actual person. It went against everything he learned up until now. Every test, every quiz, every damn book told Micheal this man shouldn’t exist. But he did. And he might’ve been part of the reason Lemmings was smoking this very cigar. Not every reason though.\n\n“What do you want Jack?” Micheal said, audible aggravation spit through every word.\n\n“Jeez smart guy, calm your tits. Just wanted to see if you were doing alright.” Winter, stepping out of the door frame, and slouching into a spare chair in Michaels office.\n\n“I’m fine Jack. Just writing a letter to the family before we leave.” Micheal sighed, his gaze went distant as he looked at a picture of his wife and daughter.\n\nWinter’s smile dropped to a saddened smirk. He layed his cold hands on Michaels forearm, patting it a few times awkwardly. His cold touch didn’t even get a flinch from Micheal. Over the past few months, Micheal had gotten used to the mans abnormal coolness, just him walking into the room could lower the room temperature by 20 degrees. Something that Micheal wasn’t too unhappy about, considering the average temperature around the globe was now 105°.\n\n“I promise you Lemmings, you’ll return to your daughter alive, alive and cold.” Winter said, his eyes ironically warm.\n\nLemmings, despite his original hatred for the man, had grown to accept his presence. He gave a half-forced smile in response.\n\nWinter looked down awkwardly at his lap, his white floppy hair with it. Winter was arrogant, not an idiot.\n\n“I’m unwanted. Just make sure you’re ready Lemmings, we leave at nightfall.”\n\nMicheal nodded, directing his gaze back at the note on his desk. He finished scribbling on it, then read it over once more.\n\n“Dear Mary and Catherine,\n\nI write this too you from my office. I know you are well aware I’ve been off on a business trip for the past four months now, and depending on if my boss is nice to me, it might be a while before I return home to you. Catherine, be nice to your mother while I’m gone.\n\nLove you,\n\nMicheal”\n\nMichel rubbed his eyes, he was tired, so tired. He missed his wife and daughter more than anything on this earth, but he could not let the world they lived in burn to nothingness. He looked at the not one final time, before wrapping it up in an envelope, and stuffing it in his pocket. He looked out the window, the sun had finally set.\n\nIt was time.\n\n(chapters 1/3) (or 1/2, im not really sure)\n\n(I’ll try and have the second part done in an hour!)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: In the future, everyone has a scannable barcode tattoo on their wrist that acts as an ID. Unfortunately, yours just got scratched." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Street sweepers are cleaning the streets, automatized machines clearing debris and dirt between homeless encampments. A rebar from one of these machine scratches Joe’s arm as he’s passed out in a ditch on the corner of the camp.\n\n“Fuckin’ robot” moans Joe, “my arm.”\n\nHe looks over at his wrist and there’s a splatter of blood where his barcode should be.\n\nHe scuttles to the other side of the road, on the lowest bottom level, below two other levels above his own. His lot were with the homeless and the working class, with the occasional four-wheel vehicle or machinery that passes by.\n\nA pack of police are scanning the road, looking for loiterers to pick up for work. They corral Joe into a line for mandatory scanning.\n\n“You,” one of them says, “let’s see your barcode.”\n\nJoe looks down and notices the scannable barcode tattoo on his arm is partially scratched off from the robot’s rebar. One side of it is smeared a bit to one side.\n\n“I dunno’ what happened to mine, it’s messed up,” he said.\n\n“Shut it roach, let me see,” said the officer.\n\nThe officer scans his barcode and it gives off a reading, but he looks perplexed in response.\n\n“I-I’m sorry, sir,” the man says, “you’re clear to go. Can I give you a ride anywhere? Is there anything we can do for you?”\n\nJoe looks at the officer and raises his eyebrows. “No, no, it’s quite all right. Thank you.”\n\nHe figures they must have mixed him up with someone else, oh well. The other homeless in line are rounded up in the back of a van, he figures they’ll probably go to a work camp or factory.\n\nJoe meanders to the entrance to go to a higher level, where there’s an escalator above. It requires scanning your barcode for elite members of society to reach the shopping malls and robo-taxi expressway.\n\nHe jokingly scans his tattoo barcode, not thinking anything of it like usual, but this time the entrance lights up green. Joe takes the escalator to the next level to his surprise and everyone around him when he reaches the top.\n\nPeople are staring at his raggedy clothes and unkempt appearance. He embarrassingly brushes his dirty hair, and uses his tongue to lick his yellowed teeth.\n\nThere’s a line nearby waiting in que for a taxi, and another escalator by him to go to the third level above this one. Joe takes the escalator to see the furthest edge of the city that he had never seen before.\n\nAt Level-three, there are robots and automatized machines following their scripts and routines. Joe looks over the ledge where he was sleeping previously on the street on Level-one, he sees the homeless encampment being loaded into vans.\n\nFrom this vantagepoint, the people and machinery of the city below look more akin to insects in a terrarium, all part of one ecosystem moving endlessly.\n\n“You don’t look like you belong here,” an officer behind him says.\n\nJoe turns around, ready to run, but two others grab him from behind. They pull his arm to ready him for scanning.\n\n“No,” the officer said, “you’re not going anywhere.”\n\nTheir helmets automatically scan his damaged barcode and they all freeze.\n\n“We’re sorry, sir,” one of them says, “we didn’t realize. Can we do anything for you?”\n\n“Yeah,” says Joe, “transfer some coin to my digital wallet, here’s my address. I’ll forget about everything that happened here.”\n\n“You-you’re the richest man in the world, you don’t need our coins,” an officer said. “Just use your barcode for transactions.”\n\nAfter they release Joe, he walks over to a clothing shop inside a shopping mall designed after a Paris village located on Level-two.\n\nThe shop serves him espresso, while one of the machines sizes him up for a suit fitting in the booth. Aerosol mist sprays his body with a disinfectant and scans his body for a proper fitting.\n\nHe browses through the shop’s inventory available through 3D holograms and semi-augmented reality.\n\n“That’s how I like my collars, yeah, like that,” said Joe.\n\nThe designer-suit rotates midair, giving him a real-time glimpse.\n\n“Confirm. What color option, sir?” A robotic voice said.\n\n“Hmm, I’ll take a copy in each color available. Bill it to my barcode,” he said. “Oh, and you can deliver it to my luxury villa across the street. I’m staying at this address.\"\n\nBack in his private villa rental property at the hotel, he sits out on the balcony and stares at the people on Level-one.\n\nJoe examines his expensive clothes and the villa he lives inside.\n\nHe thinks to himself, those roaches below on Level-one ought to be cleaned out of the city to clean up my view.\n\nOne afternoon there was a loud pounding at his front door, what sounds like shouting.\n\n“Who is it?” Joe yelled out.\n\n“Police, open up. We’re coming in.”\n\nJoe straightens up. He begins racing back-and-forth between the front door and the balcony nervously, unsure where to go or where to hide now. Like a bug, he feels the pressure of someone above him ready to lift up their foot and squash him. He feels the urge to hide in a dark crevice.\n\nHe leaps toward the balcony door and attempts to climb between the ledges of the houses, but by that time the police are surrounding that side.\n\nHe is close to squeezing through a hole to his neighbor’s villa. So close, Joe thinks to himself, so close to wiggle free into the darkness.\n\n“There he is, I see his legs,” an officer says above him. “Squish him.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: After decades of use, a scientist for Starfleet discovers undeniable proof that matter transporters painfully kills a person and then creates an unknowing replica on the other side." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Impossible,” the chairman repeated with heightened incredulity.\n\nThe crowd murmured and stirred. The readings on the display loomed at eye-level, as ominous as a poised guillotine, their implications equally as damning.\n\nThe lead scientist’s face was pallid, beads of sweat clinging to his brow. His former boss, the now-elderly inventor of Transporter technology, was handcuffed to his chair on the other side of the room. His body was coiled tensely like a compressed spring, his hateful gaze fixed on the treacherous young scientist.\n\n“As you can plainly see, sir, it isn’t impossible. It’s inevitable.” He cleared his throat. “Frankly I find it difficult to understand how Starfleet has allowed this to slip under its radar for so long.”\n\nThe chairman stared for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “With all due respect, doctor, I’m finding this all very difficult to take in. Common experience disagrees with your claims. Virtually every member of Starfleet is familiar with transporter technology and will agree that it is a painless, harmless procedure.”\n\n“As far as you know.” The scientist replied. “As difficult as you may find this to accept, sir, my research leads me to believe that you, in fact, nobody in this room, has ever used a transporter in their lives.”\n\nThe chairman scoffed, the uneasy crowd responding with a ripple of subdued laughter.\n\n“I’m serious. None of you have ever used a transporter. Any of you who think you have, and I think I can safely assume that includes everyone, has in actual fact only been constructed by one.” He pressed a button on his remote. The lights in the room dimmed, and the image on the screen briefly dissolved to black before a video began to play.\n\nA transporter room in apparent disarray. Monitoring equipment sprawled throughout, hundreds of mechanical eyes trained on the center of the transport bay floor. The room’s computer terminal had its paneling ripped off, wiring hanging out like a disemboweled animal.\n\nThe old man grimaced with distaste. “You had no right to fiddle with my machinery, you insolent little rat.” He spat the words through gritted teeth as a nearby guard moved to subdue him.\n\nThe scientist turned away from the man and continued. “What you see is the prototype transporter, modified in such a way as to prevent it from disguising what really happens to its users.”\n\nIn the video, the scientist moved into frame, leaving behind him a white rabbit on the transporter floor. He then moved to the left, removed a small silvery object from his pocket, and punched a sequence of numbers into the buttons on its face. There was a low-pitched hum, and the rabbit’s body began to scintillate with familiar light.\n\n“At this moment, I artificially interrupt the sequence…”\n\nThe low hum faltered, the light flickered, and suddenly both stopped. The very brief silence was shattered by a horrible, chilling scream. The rabbit doubled over in agony and began to contort horribly on its side, its legs kicking desperately. Its body was suddenly covered in a uniform coating of blood that oozed from the whole surface of its thrashing form the way water would from a saturated sponge. The legs kicked furiously, starkly crimson blood spraying over the sterile white laboratory walls as the shrill screaming gave way to a strangled gargling. The crowd watched in stunned horror as the indistinct form seemed to slowly deflate until all that remained was a trembling mass of red jelly.\n\nHe allowed the silence to settle over the audience before he brought the lights back up and continued. “Every time you use a transporter, this happens to you. What is assembled at the other end is merely a copy of you, identical in every way down to the quantum level, complete with every memory, save for the experience of transportation. That, conveniently, is omitted.”\n\n“What goes into a transporter is torn apart, dissolved, and is lost forever. What comes out are people, real people, entirely convinced that their life’s experience has been one continuous event. In reality, every last one of them had really only been born seconds before. Phantoms, imposters, of their deceased originals.”\n\nThe following silence was broken by his aging boss, his voice stony and cold.\n\n“And so what?”\n\nThe chairman turned to face him, his expression sullen, appearing suddenly as if he hadn’t slept for days.\n\n“At every minute of every day, human beings die. Are dying. It’s an ongoing process, necessary for what we perceive as life. From moment to moment, none of us are really the same person. Cells die, on mass, always. Hell, every seven years, not one single original cell remains. The “you” from seven years ago is gone. Dead. Washed down the drain and replaced with something else, some new creature with a set of fictional memories and the merry ignorance of what it really is.”\n\nThe chairman rose from his seat, trembling with rage.\n\n“Do you honestly believe that the ‘you’ standing in this room is the same as it was six years ago? Three? Hell, ten minutes ago!? It’s all an illusion! You people are just nodes of biological flux, lumps of organic matter believing a lie!”\n\n“Arrest this lunatic!” The chairman screamed. The guards swept in and seized the old man, but not before he managed to retrieve a small silver object from his pocket. In the ensuing scuffle, nobody heard its soft, digital chirp.\n\n“He’s got something!” The scientist heard himself shout over the din. He only had a moment to experience the horror washing over him as he understood what it was. He lurched forward, a futile last effort to stop it from happening, before his vision became obscured with thousands of sparks of light. He distantly heard the old man laughing as his entire body was suddenly overcome with searing, white-hot agony. He felt his legs collapse beneath him, heard the rising fervor of his own tortured shrieks. As suddenly as they had arrived, the sparks disappeared, and he shuddered helplessly on the ground as the world around him was consumed in a rush of vibrant red." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Every human on Earth is assigned a soul from Heaven as a guardian angel to help them in their most dire moment. A priest might get Mother Teressa to remind them to keep faith; a musician might get Beethoven to help with a major composition. You got Steve Irwin." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "You know that scene in Indiana Jones, where Indy asks why it had to be snakes? That hit me on a deeply personal level. There’s something about cold-blooded death-serpents that hits the primal part of my brain. I don’t think that’s crazy.\n\nIf you forced me to sit down and write out my fears, I’d be stuck in that chair until I died. If we restricted it to the top 3, I could give you the ones starting with S. Snakes, the aforementioned death serpent. Sharks, because mother nature decided they were the perfect predator before she’d even figured out trees. And spiders, because nothing should have that many eyes.\n\nSee, it’s not irrational. Those are all brilliant reasons.\n\nSo you might be wondering how I came to be here. Let me tell you, that’s one hell of a cosmic joke. Whatever omnipotent being that assigns children to parents should be sacked. My parents are farmers. In the Australian outback. Do you know what farming here looks like? It’s riding horses to find cattle, scattered across miles of burnt brown grass. In a country with more man-murdering animals than anywhere else in the world. Don’t fact check that.\n\nYou can’t even take a cooling dip in a stream here without worrying about crocs. There’s even sharks in the rivers! Granted, they’re a lot closer to the coast than we are.\n\nAll of that is to say that I much preferred my semester in the halls of residence at uni. It’s now the holidays, hence me being on a horse in the outback. Though it hasn’t felt like much of a holiday.\n\n“Come on Nestor” I murmured, giving him a gentle heel tap. The horse meandered closer to the stream. Come rainy season it’d be a river worth the name, but at the moment I couldn’t think of it as anything other than a stream. Just enough water to give Nestor a chance to cool off before we doubled back to catch up with Dad.\n\n“Go on boy, have a drink.” I said a minute later as I dismounted. The horse took a few tentative steps toward the river, it’s tail swishing. If I’d been paying enough attention that would have been my warning. Instead, I trudged ahead. I had a bandana tied around my neck, and it had long since dried out. All I could think about was getting that good and soaked for the ride back.\n\nUntil I heard the growling.\n\nThose garbage disposal things mounted in sinks have nothing on the growl of a full-grown crocodile. It lay sunning itself at the edge of the stream, half tucked behind a bank so that I hadn’t seen it as we approached. I froze. Black eyes glared at me as it’s tail twitched slightly.\n\n“Crikey! Look at that beauty!” A voice said, somehow coming from all around me. The croc tilted it’s head to one side, like a toothy puppy. I didn’t dare take my eyes off the prehistoric monster to see who had spoken. The voice had been familiar though.\n\n“What do I do?” I asked. Not that it would matter, all of my muscles were locked up.\n\n“Back away slowly. He’s just enjoying himself in the sun. You’ve surprised him.” The voice came, again from all directions. The croc cocked it’s head in the other direction.\n\nI forced myself to take a slow step backwards. I couldn't breathe. The croc's head was tilted, but it’s eyes were still locked on mine. Behind me I could hear Nestor’s clomping hooves as he backed up even faster. I didn’t want to be stuck out here without a horse.\n\nThe croc levelled it’s head, glaring at me with open jaws. Every instinct in me screamed that I should turn and run.\n\n“Look at ‘im, isn’t he pretty?” The voice asked.\n\nI almost said I’d never seen a more ugly creature in my life, but I held my tongue. I took another step backwards and looked, actually looked, at the croc. Inexplicably, there was something alluring about it. For a croc it was fairly small, only six or seven feet long. It had been sunning itself for some time, and there wasn’t a spec of moisture left on it’s leathery skin. Sunlight glinted off the ridges along its spine.\n\nI wasn’t terrified.\n\nMy retreat became less urgent, my steps less faltering. I was still backing away, I didn’t want to be anywhere near it, but I was starting to appreciate it. This wasn’t just some murderous lizard. This was an impressive example of a fascinating creature.\n\nIt lowered it’s snout to the ground, finally closing it’s great jaws. I could feel a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. There was something majestic about it now. Finally, as the croc settled back into the sun, I turned to look around. Nestor was several meters away, watching me for signs of suicidal madness. There was noone else around, noone that could have spoken.\n\nWith the fear receding, my brain was finally catching up to reality. The familiar voice fell into place, and I gave the croc one last look.\n\n“Thanks Steve”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: When you died, you got reincarnated in the dreams of the person who thought of you the most during your life. The person who’s dreams you appear in is someone you’ve never met." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I sat against the cold wall clenching my side holding onto the hole in my side. The sound of screams from around the corner started to fade as everything seemed to get darker. I looked down upon my wound to see blood, my blood. All over my hands and being absorbed by my clothes. I'd been shot mere seconds ago and the pain, oh the pain. My eyelids were heavy and felt cold so cold... I closed my eyes and let the cold take me.\n\nWhat is this? The wall behind me became comfortable and soft,. also i was no longer sitting i was laying down! I opened my eyes to the white ceiling of a room, a bed room. I sat up on the bed i was laying in to see a dresser with makeup products strewn upon it and a window with the sun beaming through greeting me to a new day. (i noticed the opposite side of the bed to be made or something) Then suddenly footsteps! outside the bedroom running and coming closer, I lept out of bed and reached for my weapon, realizing i'm in my civies when the door burst open and \" DADDY!\" This small girl shouts and wraps her tiny arms around my leg. Her hair was black and curly and she had the biggest smile on her face. \"H-Hey!\" My arms went up like i was surrendering and i looked around frantically for whom may be the parent of this child, but she clearly called me ... Daddy. She suddenly grabs my hand and brings me out of the bedroom \" C'mon were going to be late!\" \"Now hold on here...\"\n\nBefore i could finish there was a bright flash and i was sitting on a small chair in what seemed to be a class room, filled with a bunch of little kids. and a man at the front behind a desk and a women standing infront of the blackboard in a police uniform. \"And thats what being a police officer is about, to me any way. I hope that answered your question.\" She smiled at a kid in the front row as she walked back to the back of the room where i now noticed a bunch of other parents were sitting. The Man behind the desk, who i now believe to be the teacher spoke \"Next is Lynn's father telling us about his job in the military \"I couldn't help but notice the name Lynn... I stood up and walked to the front of the class and saw her, Her eyes beaming her smile so big! ... thats my little girl.\n\nShes so big, i only saw her a couple months ago when i was home for her birth, How is this possible how did i get here? Then i remembered that i got shot, my hand went directly to my side and a burst of bright light happened again. I was pushing lynn on the swing set, Her mother was taking a picture! Oh lucy! I miss you! \"how high do you wanna go kiddo?\" i asked then came another bright light! I was tying Lynn's soccer cleats, and said \"there you go kiddo\", Then another bright light. Lynn was riding her bike towards me, Then another bright light. Lynn and i were swimming in a pool she looked like she was taller, Then another bright light. I was carrying lynn on my shoulders through the Zoo with Lucy, Lynn claimed she wanted to be a giraffe when she got older, \"You do that Kiddo.\" Then another bright light. Lynn was walking across the stage in her graduation gown waving to me and i waved back, she was beautiful i started crying, Then another bright light. I heard crying on the other side of the door, I knocked and opened the door \" Hey Kiddo.\" Lynns head whipped around too see me and she yelled out \"Daddy!\" as she cried and ran to hug me i embraced her. she was so tall! gee this has to be high school now I then began to see another bight light, \"Ah c'mon!\". Then suddenly Im in a driveway, It's very late and dark out. I see someone in the car and knock on the window and instinctively say \" Hey kiddo.\" She Looked up at me, tears in her eyes and unlocked the car doors. I Think i'm getting the hang of this now. i opened the passenger door and sat down. \"Long time no see.\" I said \" I know\" She Replied, She wiped the tears off of a photo of me and said \" I miss you...\" \"I miss you too.\" \" I never even knew you!\" \"You do honey.\" I grabbed her hand and she looked over at me. \" You do.\" I smiled and she smiled . \" Now tell me whats wrong?\" And we sat their for what seemed to be a milisecond but she told me everything from Lucy's engagement, To her struggle to find herself, to bad grades, and bad friends. \"Thanks Dad.\" \"Anytime Lynn\" We hugged both leaning over the car console. Then... another bright light.\n\nI was at a coffee shop sipping on something tasteless when she knocked on the window with Her big smile and beaming eyes. She was older but i knew it was her right away she had her mothers curly hair still. She burst in the coffee shop saying \"My usual Francine?\" and sat down and out her purse on the table. I smiled and said \"Hey kiddo.\" \"I love you dad.\" I was taken back. I felt the tears well up in my eyes, \"I love you too Lynn, My baby girl.\"she took in a breath and let out a squeal \"Im getting married!\" I felt my heart leap out of my chest! joy came over me, the tears started to fall \" Im so happy for you!\" i got up and went across the table and lifted her up and spun her around. \"MY BABYS GETTING MARRIED.\" , Then another bright light crept upon us.\n\nSuddenly i was in a field on top of a hill, and i heard an odd and constant beeping. I looked out over the field and could feel the warmth of the setting sun. I then felt a tug at my side. I turned around to see an older women grey curly hair and glasses. There was a house behind her with a bunch of people sitting on the front porch. She smiled and i knew... \" Hey kiddo.\" The beeping then turned into a consistent tone and i took her hand and we walked until, another bright light." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: A story of a empire, ruled by a unstable monarch. A conspiracy unravels with the rise of a Pretender to the Throne" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They say a King should not rest easy, as to do so would invite corruption. King Pluronnius IV lived by such a code, and still it corrupted him so.\n\nIn the year 340, the land was ruled by the Numerial dynasty. Under the royal family the Kingdom had lived under tumultuous circumstances. At the lowest, the monarchs were intent on bleeding the realm dry. At the highest, there were middling Kings and Queens who meant well, but were led astray by conniving vassals. Indeed, many wonder how such an unremarkable family ever managed to attain power in the Kingdom in the first place.\n\nUntil Pluronnius IV rose to the throne.\n\nIn this man was a fire. A fire to burn out all corruption in the Kingdom. He had heard the teachings of the wise scholars, learned from his predecessors mistakes. One should not enjoy being King, for it is a duty. To enjoy it is to invite corruption. Pluronnius was stoic, diligent. But most of all, he was ruthless.\n\nAll vassals who once bragged of controlling the previous monarchy like a puppet master were summarily executed. The religious sects who grew rich from the suffering of the poor were burned in their temples. Thieves, rapists and worse were put to the sword in the streets. Though his methods were somewhat... direct, his motives were true and noble. The people cried out in adulation for their new liege lord, and soon stability returned to the the realm.\n\nBut corruption appears in many forms.\n\nKing Pluronnius grew agitated in his rule. The teachings he had took to heart, that a King should not enjoy being King, started to haunt him. His extreme methods produced an extreme man, and Pluronnius could soon only see things in a truly literal light.\n\nTo rule is a godly task. Kings and Queens were chosen as representatives of the Gods, or so it was told. Then surely, Pluronnius decided, if the King is the representative of the Gods, then the people were the representative of the King. And while most criminality had been erased from the Kingdom, Pluronnius knew there was still much debauchery to be found in his land. Women of the night who sold their bodies for coin. Men who had abandoned their families to become slaves to the drink. Those who would sleep tight of a morning rather than attend the temples to pay deference to the Gods.\n\nPluronnius flagellated himself daily for the sins of his people, for they represented him and his Kingdom. But soon he concluded that the people must be punished too. The Kingdom was plunged into chaos as the army of \"Pluronnius the Proper\" descended upon the peasantry in determined damnation. Any towns and villages with a brothel were razed to the ground, sowed by the blood of those who once lived there. Alcoholics were fed boiling water in the streets and adulterers were gelded indiscriminately, regardless if they were merely victims of rumours.\n\nThe \"apostates\" who chose to lie in rather than attend religious sermons of a weekend were dragged into the streets, where they were flayed and crucified for all to see. Again, no trials were needed. If you were victim of a rumour, you were doomed. Suddenly the gossiping of wives was now a death sentence, though that soon ceased to be a problem, as Pluronnius decreed those who reveled in gossip would have their tongues ripped out.\n\nDuring this great purge, the Kingdom of Pluronnius was washed clean with blood. But blood leaves a stain.\n\nSoon the people were in the streets, defying the tyrant's armies and the self righteous cause they propagated. Though their numbers were greater than the military they had little success in the early months of the rebellion, as they lacked any military or tactical nous, as well as equipment. Fortunately, members of Pluronnius's armies started to trickle out and defect to the rebels, bringing with them the ability and know how to bring down the truly corrupted King.\n\nThe battles that followed were long and arduous, the rebels with the numbers, the army with the experience. Though with each passing day more and more from the army defected, until soon the rebellion was won, not through battles, but through common contempt for the corrupted incorruptible.\n\nThose left of Pluronnius's army, though he would call them virtuous, were little more than sadists who delighted in the suffering they were allowed to cause. But they held no loyalty to their King. For indeed, though Pluronnius was truly insane, he believed his actions to be pure, and held no favour for sadists who killed for the lust of blood. And so the rebels marched on his palace, and the remnants of Pluronnius's army dispersed across the land, to replace the true criminals and bandits they had once killed.\n\nAnd as the rebels tore down the doors to the royal throne room, Pluronnius's cries could be heard throughout his palace.\n\n\"Pretender, pretender,\" he cried, pointing finger after finger at the peasants who flooded in, peasants who could never hold a claim to be King. For though his time had surely come, he still could not fathom why. The corrupted incorruptible, determined to the end." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You are a single father to three primary school-aged girls. Once a week you buy a lottery ticket, in the hopes of giving them a better life." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Before his husband discovered meth, Danny had a picture perfect life. He was married to a the man of his dreams, had three beautiful girls, a golden retriever, and a five bedroom house in the suburbs of Atlanta. He was a big time lawyer for Coca-Cola and his life as a whole seemed to be an a perpetual upswing.\n\nAfter Bruce and Danny had a terrible breakup that lingered in the courts for what seemed like a millennium. Danny finally won the custody battle and started what was bound to be a long process of rebuilding life with his daughters. Three weeks after the court process was finalized, Danny got a call from a local number that wasn't saved to his phone. \"Great,\" he thought, \"Bruce needs 'rent money' already.\" He already planned on telling Bruce there was no way he could help him since the girls had each been accepted into a prestigious private school in the area. Besides, he knew Bruce was just going to smoke any money Danny gave.\n\n\"Hello? Listen Bru-\"\n\nThe voice that cut him off was that of a middle-aged sounding woman. \"Hi, this is Debbie with the Fayette County Coroner's Office. Can you describe a Mister Bruce Dunwitty to me, any tattoos, scars, et cetera?\"\n\nDanny was filled with a rush of varying emotions, sadness that he lost his soulmate for good, rage at this woman's nonchalant way of informing him, but above all, the sheer dread of having to tell his sweet baby girls they'll never hear their daddy's voice again.\n\nThe following three years were hard, to say the least. Danny paid for the extravagant funeral that he knew Bruce would want, lost all his savings through bad investments, and finally the weight of his life wore him down to the point his work performance had dropped drastically and he was fired. His severance package was enough to hold him afloat for three months, but, eventually he was so far behind on his mortgage payments, it was no surprise when he came home to a bright red foreclosure sticker on his from door.\n\nDanny found a single-wide trailer he was able to afford with his unemployment checks, the two bedroom was no where near enough room for a young family of four. It broke Danny's heart to see all three of his daughters having to share a single bedroom that itself wasn't much larger than the walk-in closet he had in their old house.\n\nHowever, a new family tradition was born. Every Monday, the girls would sit with Danny on their small couch and watch the lottery on the 17 inch tv. Danny was well aware of the odds and he knew the Fantasy 5 didn't have an insane jackpot, but this was the most joy he'd get all week.\n\nEvery week without fail, Danny picked the same numbers, 5, 9, 11, 19, and 31. The dates of birthdays for everyone in the whole family, his girls, himself, and, of course, Bruce. He smiled when he heard the first number, looking at his oldest daughter as she heard her birthday. He tried to keep himself calm as he heard the next two numbers, he'd never matched three numbers before. When the lady on tv said 19 he couldn't believe it, his heart was racing. \"Daddy! Your birthday was there too!\" His palms were sweating, he knew logically there was no way Bruce's birthday would be called. He hadn't even thought of the possibility of winning the jackpot, especially now that he'd finished paying off his debt.\n\n\"31,\" his mind couldn't even process the woman's voice he just knew that the number was called. His stare was blank, he thought of everything that had happened in the last few years, and of how his daughters never really had the lives they deserved. He felt like his head was underwater, but eventually he heard his daughters' voices pulling him from the fog \"Daddy!! All our birthdays were called!!\"\n\nFor the first time in forever, Danny felt like Bruce was there with him. He immediately started googling land out in the country, he knew he could get a few acres. The jackpot was only $192,000 but it would be enough to buy a home in a good school district, and he could start the law firm he'd always dreamed of. Finally, his girls would have the life Danny knew they deserved.\n\n(I've never posted on here, and I'm on mobile at work. Sorry if there's poor formatting or other errors.)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Problems and illnesses manifest themselves as little monsters, invisible to all but the owner at first, but growing in size proportional to the problem and becoming visible when they start to affect others. One day you see a little boy riding a giant beast while laughing." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He flicked his cigarette, letting the ashes flutter and land on his knees. People-watching on the sidewalk curled up into the shape of a question mark was a new hobby he had picked up, and he'd seen a fair share of creatures climb through his part of the woods. But this...\n\nHe stared at burnt rubber soles of a pair of off-brand sneakers, trailing his gaze upward. The kid had a bright pair of neon yellow shorts, a purple tank top torn at the left shoulder, and a brown patch of hair protruding like a tree trunk from the right side of his head. There were weirder looking kids in Portland, sure, but not all of them were riding a 50-foot-tall, pinky, faceless humanoid with vines for limbs.\n\nOf course, these monsters weren't all misplaced themselves. He'd dealt with a ton of them in grief counseling classes, talking to mothers who had lost their children in the forests. Their little monsters were always little birds singing sad little songs, perched on their shoulders, reminding them of their \"little angels\" no one could find.\n\nHe took another drag. Smoke spilled from his nostrils as he exhaled, nodding at the memories. Search and rescue was a tough job, and more often than not, he'd have cold cases, never find the kid -- or, in the less fortunate cases, they'd probably find the little shit lurking by a mulberry bush tossing stuffed animals into the air, pretending that they had their own little monsters.\n\n\"Hey, mister!\"\n\nA small squishy palm almost swiped the cigarette from his mouth before he pulled his head back and out of the way. He squinted at the dirty child.\n\n\"Mister, you like my friend? Been seeing you staring at him from over here, and I thought you wanted to play with us.\"\n\nHe flicked a couple of ashes at the child. Instead of moving away, the kid let the ashes fall in a line across his shoes, his smile ever present. \"What's your problem, kid?\"\n\n\"Problem? That's Glasglow.\"\n\n\"Cut the bullshit, kid. It isn't your friend. That,\" he said, pointing with his cigarette to the humanoid rolling in the street, \"only gets born when people are sick or are having a hard time.\"\n\nThe little boy's smile faltered. His little foot scuffed the ashes on the ground. \"Mister,\" he said, \"he really is my only friend. Been with me since I was born.\"\n\n\"Since when?\"\n\n\"Since all of those kids went missing, Mister.\"\n\nHis cigarette dropped to the ground as his covered his mouth, choking on smoke. \"What?\"\n\nThe child laughed. The air around him began flutter with waves of heat. \"Oh, you remember, Mister. Kids gone missing every week for almost a year, not a single one found. Don't you play the dummy, sir.\"\n\nThe humanoid on the street jerked its giant head towards the two of them. In a swift corkscrew motion, it swiveled its way next to the child.\n\nHe lurched at the smell of rotting flesh emanating from where its face should have been, staring in horror as rows of teeth began to appear. \"I... I don't know what you're talking about.\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm sure. Leaving a cigarette behind, 'forgetting' to put it out--you sure thought you were a slick one, didn't you, Mister?\"\n\nThe humanoid next to the child smiled, displaying three sharp and shiny rows of teeth. A boulder-sized lump manifested in the middle of its throat and surged toward the mouth. With a violent spasm, it vomited a ball of charred, severed heads, arms, and feet.\n\nHis hands shook and with a lurch, he too emptied the contents of his stomach onto the sidewalk.\n\nThe boy looked down at him, indifferent and cold. \"That's right, Mister. We've come back for you. You thought we'd burn with the rest of the forest, but guilt sure does manifest itself in different ways, doesn't it?\"\n\nVomit spilled from between his fingers, but he managed to spit in the boy's general direction. \"You're a disgusting little monster.\"\n\nThe humanoid's vines curled around the little boy's leg. The child's skin broiled, blisters climbing up his body. He smiled, his jaw distending to show three rows of sharp, bright teeth.\n\n\"You're the real monster, Mister.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Two biologists argue in front of a very impressionable audience. The first biologist must convince the audience of how the human body is amazingly strong, resilient and tough. The second one does the opposite, show how the human body is intensely fragile, weak and delicate." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Silence reigned over the hall. A sea of heads facing an old wooden stage, the only illuminated part of the room; it's glare catching in the hair, eyes and jewellery of the spectators. The old boards of the stage supported no tables or podiums, no chairs or microphone stands, just two men. They stood apart from one another, separated by air and dust, standing at an angle facing both crowd and challenger at once. There was a faint tap of trainer on ancient oak as one of the men adjusted, taking in the ethereally lit crowd and his blindingly illuminated challenger, he paused, nodded, took a breath and then he began.\n\n\"Fallibility is the mainstay of all organisms in the history of the planet, professor, to argue that humans are the most fallible is short-sighted.\" It wasn't a great opening point, but it would have to do.\n\n\"Is it though? There exists creatures of the animals that live in the most extreme of temperatures and topography.\" Returned the ageing professor, \"Of course, a young undergraduate such as yourself must be convinced of your invincibility, the young always are. But you are fallible, as is all humanity, we can not survive the cold that penguins do without clothes, the require equipment to climb mountains that species of goats do not, we are not possessed of poison, claws or strong jaws with which to ward off predators.\"\n\n\"We build ourselves walls and houses, professor. These allow us to survive these conditions.\"\n\n\"Indeed they do, but without them we can not. We can not build them without tools. Primates also use tools and yet they possess a strength that the most muscular of humans can not achieve. We are not here to judge the ingenuity of humanity, that is without question, we are here to judge the biology of humanity. It becomes obvious then, even to undergraduates, that we are extremely lacking.\" The professor finished with a confident smile. He had retorted with a strong argument and the murmur of agreement from the crowd showed it.\n\nThe undergraduate shuffled, his trainers stressing against the wood, before coming back with a response, \"Human beings have been shown time and time again the ability to withstand punishment, men and women have lost limbs and carried on with this massive trauma, sometimes surviving days before receiving help.\"\n\n\"Indeed, but they do not grow back, there are starfish and reptiles that can restore limbs. Once a human has lost theirs it is gone. Our flesh and our bones break and tear at the slightest of stresses, a jagged nail, broken glass, and even falling small distances can break bones and sunder the skin itself.\"\n\n\"The body heals itself, always ready to repair damage.\" responded the undergraduate.\n\n\"A flawed system, the lightest of wounds caused scars, deeper ones leave permanent damage, loss of feeling, loss of function. What use it that? None. It's a tiring healing system, that of which we are possessed, inefficient and basic. It goes wrong at the slightest provocation, even the very sunlight with which we survive can cause our cell healing and replication to burst out of control. Cancer is a steep price to pay for going out in the sun for a little too long. Cancer notwithstanding, there are those with haemophilia! Unstoppable bleeding with no cure, passed down the genetic line. Thrust upon those who have yet to draw their first breath. Our very cause for being, our DNA is flawed. Down's, cystic fibrosis, Klinefelter's, Coeliac's, albinism, sensory loss, Huntington's, muscular dystrophy, sickle cell, diabetes, autism, dwarfism, allergies, light sensitivity, immunity disorders and the list goes on and on and on and on! Even then when a human being is healthy they are subject to microbial attack! Viruses, bacteria, fungi and prion diseases. Millions and millions of human beings laid law throughout the course of history at the behest of organisms fractions of a fraction smaller than ourselves. Viruses themselves are not even living! It is no different to walking down the street and being randomly killed by a floating table! Prion disease is misfolded protein produced by the brain, insanity brought about by a string of amino acids bent the wrong way. Yet I can go on! Psychological disorders are rife amongst human beings and they come in all shapes and forms, I shan't go into further detail but how brilliant can we call the human form if it can be struck by a malady that causes a person to take their own lives? I must ask of you, how can humans be so incredible when it seems that even a light breeze has a chance of laying us so very low?\"\n\nThere was absolute quiet in the hall, the whispers of agreement from the crowd had ceased, the professor had laid out mortality for all to see. The weight of impending death hung over the room like the very dust in the air that seemed to have stopped to heed the professor. It sat upon every mind in the room, none more so than that of the undergraduate. Panic seared over his face as he fumbled for a response, his eyes searching the aged face of the professor. His own fragility had been made unflinchingly apparent to him, and it was in this that he realised his redeeming grace.\n\n\"Because we persevere, professor.\"\n\n\"I beg your pardon?\" replied the old man, shocked at having his victory postponed.\n\n\"Because we persevere. You have stood there and explained in painstaking detail that one day I will die, most likely painfully, and in that time I will hurt and I will bleed and there is a chance that I may not see your age.\" The students spoke with his head slightly bowed and his eyes darting left to right and back again, as if reading a text. \"But I have no intention of it occurring by my own volition. Human beings may be easy to injure and wound but we are impossible to break. We have stood the test of time against animals larger than us and beaten them, we have conquered areas of the world that no human should ever have stepped foot in, we have fought and lost and adapted and changed and survived. The body itself may can be born incomplete or damaged, it can be compromised throughout life both physically and mentally, and I can safely say that humanity will never stop dying but I can also say that humanity will never stop living. Humans have lived their whole lives with genetic disorders and mental illnesses, they have continued onwards without limbs and continued onwards without some of their senses, we have seen people survive the most brutal of diseases and continue onwards.\"\n\nThe student trailed off, and after a moment of silence he raised his head and looked his professor clear in the eyes.\n\n\"Our bodies may make us weak, sir, but it is our humanity that makes us strong.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Being a flight engineer on a human's ship is... hard work. There's never a quiet day, and their tech is both anachronistic and futuristic in equal measures, but they pay well and have great benefits!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“A flux drive!” Bevet was shocked.\n\nThe last time he'd seen a flux drive … the only time he'd seen a\n\nflux drive, was at the academy. And then it was in history class\n\nrather than engineering. He tapped the side of the engine case as\n\nthough he was inspecting it. Trying to decide how to get off the ship\n\nand back onto the station without insulting the crew.\n\nHe could work it. The engine was so old the basic principles were well known to any child. And the job was easy enough, He was a trained flight engineer, and a damn good one. But .. this ship. The crew! He should have known it was a human job.\n\nThe vacancy listing had been last minute, full of vague promises and\n\nextremely well paid. It just screamed 'human'. He hummed in faux appreciation and nodded. “Well that seems … you say it still works?”\n\nThe human captain slapped the side of the casing a lot harder than Bevet had. The sound echoing around the engine room. “Sure does. This beauty is built to last. Great design. Almost never explodes.”\n\nBevet was reluctant to openly agree with the statement in case it was taken for enthusiasm for the job. But he did privately agree that the design was … efficient enough. As long as you had someone constantly monitoring the machine in case it overdosed on fuel and burnt out the coils. Or when it wasn't using\n\nenough fuel and it collapsed the flux wave. Or the other fifteen\n\nthings that would go wrong if it wasn't calibrated just right.\n\nNinety percent of this job would be staring at the the controls to\n\nkeep the damn thing working …\n\nBevet's mind froze as something mentally struck him. Something he just thought … something … wrong … His eyes ran up and down the room, searching for what was bothering him.\n\nThere!\n\nRight under his eyes.\n\nAlmost literally under his eyes. Just a step or two away on the main body of the engine was a bare sheet of metal, welded over a missing panel.\n\n“Where's the adjustment controls?”\n\nThe captain shrugged “Oh that's gone. It's all automatic now . We don't need to bother with it after the course is set.”\n\nBevet was somewhat impressed. At last the humans seemed to have come up with a good sensible idea. The old system was time consuming and prone to mistakes. Automating it would be the sensible solution. “How do you plot the adjustments in advance? Long range probes? Star map reference guides? System echo\n\ndata from other ships?”\n\n“Oh no. We use a probability algorithm that we run on the quantum processor. It simply tracks all possible outcomes, then when we pick one, say … the planet Dunno, it just adjust all variables to match what's needed to get there.”\n\nThe human looked so pleased with the answer. Bevet however felt his left eye twitch as yet more stress, the kind he only got from dealing with humans, increased.\n\n“So … you … you work out all possible outcomes of the universe … instead of … turning a dial?”\n\n“Yep. It just seemed easier.”\n\nBevet waited, hoping for more information to explain the situation.\n\nUnfortunately none came.\n\nThe two passed into the next room. Huge tanks filled the space with slits of thick clear glass to view inside. “Some sort of storage” thought Bevet “cargo\n\nprobably. He ignored the tanks and pointed at the mess of pipes that wrapped around the central support beam. The knotted pipes were all painted a different colour with each one sporting a type of valve or tap. A few seemed to fuse into each other before vanishing into the ceiling.\n\n“And this? Is this … human decoration?”\n\n“No” laughed the captain “That's the atmosphere controls.”\n\nBevet almost jumped back from the valve he was about to spin around. “You breath from THIS!”\n\nThe captain didn't seem to take offense from his tone. “Well it's where we mix the various gasses. The crew is human … well, mostly human if you sign up, and\n\nvisitors can have different needs so it's just easier to turn it off and on when you have to.”\n\n“But … but … without regulating the tanks … you'd vent all the gas at once! The pressure would kill you. You'll die.”\n\n“Regulating …? Oh! You mean those compressed atmos-tanks you all use. No, we don't have to worry about venting those.”\n\n“Why?”\n\n“We don't use them. We have plants.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You see the Grim Reaper and ask if it's your time. Death checks a clipboard and says \"Nope. Looks like you're not due for another... three thousand, one hundred and forty-one years? That's weird. Also, how can you see me?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The midnight-robed goliath loomed over me, smelling of iron and smoke. I'm still trying to gain my composure after falling off of my bed into the mountain of soda cans, used tissues and McDonalds bags.\n\nThe figure reveals the head--the skull, rather, under his hood. He tilts his head, staring directly into my being.\n\n\"..Not everyone gets to observe death itself.\" The figure says, with a thin and airy voice.\n\nI'm still frozen in shock, my eyes only able to move. I dart them to my left, seeing the Scythe alongside him. I don't think the crimson tinting is there naturally. Finally, I spit out a scrambled statement.\n\n\"A-Am I going to die?\"\n\n\"Hm.\" Death continues to gaze on, unfazed by your speech. A long silence follows and weighs in on my shoulders. The seconds that pass by feel like minutes.\n\n\"Eventually. Not today.\" His voice, though audibly heard, never seemed to break the silence.\n\n\"When, then? When will you kill me?\" I blurt out, about to continue my questions, when he raises his pointer finger up to his mouth.\n\n\"They'll hear you.\" He whispered.\n\nMy roommates? That statement is enough to make me stop talking, and I look around the room--trash, everywhere. I haven't been outside for weeks.\n\n\"Three-thousand, one-hundred forty-one. Years. That's how long you have. There's only one possibility for you if you're going to survive on this world for so long.\"\n\n\"What? How will I live this long? What is going to happen to me?\" I don't care if my roomates hear me, I need to find out what's happening while I still have him here.\n\n\"..I will consider you in the future. May we meet again,\n\nstranger.\"\n\n\"What? Wait, I nee-\"\n\nA slamming fist on the door behind me interrupts my sentence. I turn to look, but after turning my head back Death disappeared. The thick asian accent flooded past my door and into my eardrums, echoing throughout the flat.\n\n\"It's Park Sa-Hun. You forget to pay your rent 3 months, and if you are one month more behind, I kick you out! You understand? Come pay rent, now!\"\n\nShit. Just pretend I'm not here. Just pretend I'm not here. He'll go away, eventually.\n\nThe slamming continues until it suddenly grows weaker, and a wheezing sound is heard, then gradual coughing. I can almost visualize him falling to the ground with how loud the sound was. That's enough for me to wrestle out of the soda cans and rush to the door. I undo the lock and open the door to see Mr. Park lying on the ground, clutching his chest in a fetal position. Fuck. Fuck. I need to grab my phone and call them. I see the smartphone on the table and snatch it and hastily dial 911, but by the time they said they were on their way Mr. Park stopped moving.\n\nI look down at Mr. Park, with the scent of Iron and Smoke in the air. The ambulance eventually arrive 10 minutes later. I'm pushed out of the way as they rush through to me, and upon seeing a medic's chest, there appears to be a clock on his chest--Years, days, hours, minutes. I look at the other paramedic's chests to see the same clock but at different times, all of them counting down.\n\n::\n\nI was actually really bored in class and felt like writing something on my phone. This took a short amount of time and I felt like I should've put more effort in it, I'm not that good haha. Feel free to criticize, as I'm always looking to improve at anything. Thanks for the prompt OP, looked fun to write out." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You remember fondly of playing DnD in your youth. Close to 60 years later, you and your fellow nursing home residents plan to play again. You roll your wheelchairs up to the table and prepare for an epic adventure." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The funeral was a quiet affair. James had a lot of friends, but most of them were not long for this world or long gone from it. Most of his family were not American; with the tightening of immigration controls and airport security, they couldn't make it out of the customs terminal at Houston's Intercontinental Airport.\n\nInstead, along with a priest and the funeral home director, only a few people sat in the pews. Most of them were old, past their prime, held together by medical science and pure stubborn will. Younger individuals sat among them, family of friends whose bonds were forged when the world was hopeful and somewhat simpler.\n\nOne sat alone in the back. He was older than James, outlived him just to see another friend felled by an old nemesis. Cancer was a beast, even now. Geoffrey had lost his father, an aunt, an uncle, lovers, and now one of his closest friends to cancer. The doctors simply didn't catch it in time, he was told.\n\nGeoffrey looked at his chrono-decal. The nursing home would be waiting for him outside. He didn't want to stay any longer. Besides, he hated funerals. Always had. His third and final wife's death in the 2024 Gas Riots was the last funeral he had attended willingly. He didn't want to see another one again... but this one was an exception to that rule.\n\nJames and Geoffrey - he preferred Geoff back then - had a bond that was almost as strong as friendship. Stronger, he would claim. It was love, not of each other, but of a game. The Game. It was what brought them together, every week, like clockwork, around a table with their mutual friends for a night of imagination and stories.\n\nThe stories were the kind that would make Tolkein and Asimov jealous. They had the kinds of twists that would M. Night Shamalyan sit up and give praise. These were their stories. Every one had several writers, working in collaboration - and sometimes against one another - in a quest for some nebulous goal set ahead of time.\n\nSave the Princess. Defeat Chaos. Destroy a Threat From the Past. Kill the Gods, and Take Their Place. Your Friend Betrayed You and Blotted Out the Sun. Escape from Unjust Imprisonment. Build Your Own Kingdom. It had all been done. But there one story left to tell... one Geoffrey had been working on for years. He just needed an audience.\n\nGeoffrey felt a hand on his shoulder. His nurse. \"Come on, Mr. Geoff. The auto-driver is ready to take you back.\" The balding old man nodded and slowly rose to his feet.\n\n\"I'm ready,\" he said quietly. \"Oh, wait. One last thing.\" The nurse stopped at watched Geoffrey pull his cell phone out of his pocket. He unlocked it and pressed on an icon on the screen. \"Siri, send text message number 4.\" The phone screen acknowledged the request, and Geoffrey pocketed the silver device. Time to go home and get ready.\n\nThe nursing home was one of the smaller ones outside Houston's always-growing Medical Center district. It was also one of the most modern, thanks in no small part to Geoffrey's former occupation as an information technology specialist. They had the best medical, computer, and networking technology money could buy. Geoffrey kept them up to date as best he could; in return, they let him live there for free.\n\nThe auto-driver brought Geoffrey back home late in the evening; traffic was still a problem all these years later. The nurses brought Geoffrey back inside, and he impatiently checked his phone again. No replies. \"Dammit,\" he said out loud to no one in particular.\n\n\"What's wrong, Mr. Geoff?\" his nurse asked almost reflexively. \"Your knees bothering you again?\" Geoffrey sighed in exasperation.\n\n\"No, Malcolm. I was expecting a message from someone today. It hasn't come yet,\" the old man groused. Why didn't she reply yet?\n\nMalcolm took a hold of Geoffrey's arm to guide him back inside. \"Don't worry, you'll get it when it's meant to arrive,\" Malcolm said sagely. \"Let's get you inside before the rain starts. It's pizza night tonight!\" The nurse was right about one thing - pizza night was something to look forward to.\n\nA few days later, Geoffrey awoke to someone knocking on the edge of his door. The old man turned his head and murmured something close to English. Malcolm, the nurse from a few days before, repeated what he said. Geoffrey swore he heard the nurse say something about a visitor.\n\n\"Well, don't leave him out there in the damned hallway! Show him in!\"\n\nA heavily accented French female voice replied from outside: \"Excuse me?\" Geoffrey raised an eyebrow as the woman, some fifteen years his junior, walked in, pushing a wheelchair with another old man in it. Geoffrey sat up in his bed in surprise as James's older brother and his wife of twenty years came in.\n\n\"Pauline?! Dustin?\" Geoffrey pulled his glasses down from his forehead to make sure he wasn't seeing things. No, it was them. They had married in 2021 and managed to stay together despite all kinds of problems.\n\n\"Yeah, it's us,\" Dustin said through his thick goatee. \"And we didn't come alone.\" He motioned towards the door as more people started to come in. Randy and Camille, the longest-married couple Geoffrey had the pleasure of still being friends with. Christen, head of one of the largest software developers in the state. Tyrell, also a resident at the retirement home, was up and about with his experimental portable dialysis machine. Katherine, who was just a young woman when Geoffrey last saw her, now standing there with her own husband and their four kids.\n\nThe room Geoffrey called home was now full, standing room only.\n\n\"Once more around the table with dice, books, and snacks, for old-times sake,\" Randy repeated the message Geoffrey had sent out days earlier. \"With you as DM, how could I refuse?\"\n\n\"I even brought dice!\" Camille said with her cute smile. Two felt pouches, drawstrings pulled tight, were held up to show the couple's weapons of choice.\n\n\"And I hear that your setup is even more modern than last time,\" Christen said with an envious smile. \"You're always trying to be the coolest techie in the group.\"\n\nTyrell stood there mutely, but the smile on his face was all Geoffrey needed.\n\n\"Okay,\" Geoffrey said aloud. \"Head to the Blue Recreation Room. I'll get my stuff.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: The world is bland and grey. Humans are born without feelings.But, through a secret passage deep in the alley ways of a city, lies a hidden club. And they sell the most forbidden product of all... emotions." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was a dark and lonesome alleyway. Full of trash and refuse. It was a place where you would expect illegal operations to take place. And there was only one crime that anyone really considered, if not only briefly. Most people never actually sought out alleyways. Too much of a risk for too little of a thing. It was illogical. The city stomped down hard on anyone suspected of this most heinous crime.\n\nSome people were curious, though.\n\nThe only thing marking the faceless steel door as being any different from it's neighbors was the soft light emitting from underneath and the big, bulky guard to the side of it. The door was nearly hidden in a reclusive alcove that shadowed it.\n\nThe factory worker known to his associates as Crowley, squeezed the hand of a young woman who worked at an ice cream parlor. Her name was Susan. This was a false name. Crowley smiled at her. She stared at him, before returning the smile. It didn't reach her eyes.\n\nThe guard regarded the dimunitive man with a raised brow. \"You lost?\", he said with a voice like a handful of angry hornets.\n\n\"No. I'm exactly where I need to be,\" replied Crowley.\n\n\"And where's that?\"\n\nIt came out as a mumur, almost a whisper. \"The Happy Place.\"\n\nThe guard pushed open the door with one meaty hand and gestured with a sharp inclination of his head for the two to go in.\n\nThey were greeted with the sound of chatter, laugher and sobbing all at once. The place was built like a dive bar from before alcohol was banned. Conincidently, they did serve drinks here. Such a small thing didn't seem like much compared with the Happy Place's primary purpose.\n\nA bearded man in his late forties with a tremendous belly sat on the floor, his back to a wall, giggling at a wide screen television as it displayed bright, cheery cartoons preserved from an age long past. Behind him, a couple kissed like it was their last day on earth, the flame haired woman pressing her breasts up on a black haired man's bare chest. Others were all around them, either gathered up in excited conversation or otherwise engaged in a different activity.\n\nThe only thing tying them all together was that they all acted with aplomb. They were alive.\n\nThis was because of the very peculiar and complex gaseous compound in the air. It wasn't because people weren't born without them that prevented them from feeling emotions. These emotions were supressed. The chemical was apparantly smuggled out of an experimental weapons lab where they had been developing various airborne toxins. It became popular on the streets due to the ease that it could be produced and it's phenomenal efficiency. The chemical tooks mere seconds to work.\n\nThe first thing Susan felt was disgust. These people behaved like animals. Then there was suprise. A bubbly feeling that was identified as happiness. The world filled up with brilliant colors. Everything popped. There was Crowley, whom she realised was her friend. There was the taste of the sweet red wine on her lips, that the bartender gave her to help ease the transition. For a brief moment, her life had meaning.\n\nThen the happiness faded. Sadness and regret replaced it. She grabbed Crowley's arm. \"We need to go. Now, before - \"\n\nShe never got the chance to finish that sentence. The swat team had already broken down the door, strolling in with gas masks and steady rifles. Bullets flew. Crowley died in a vicious splash of crimson as a bullet pierced his neck. Men and women wailed in the way that only people capable of fear were able to do. They cried and sobbed and begged. Susan took cover behind the bar, hands on her ringing ears.\n\nIt was all over in a moment. Blood covered the furnished floors. The television that had been playing old children's cartoons was cracked in one spot, but it still played. The laugh track became discordant and the main character's voice cracked in certain spots.\n\nOne of them tossed Susan a gas mask. She caught it, grateful. It would help hide the tears. If she showed any emotions, then they would kill her as well.\n\n\"Congratulations, sir,\" said one a member of the tac team, before they moved to make a final sweep of the area.\n\nSusan walked out of the Happy Place in a daze. She was becoming complacent. If she had been paying attention then she would've never been exposed to the contaminant.\n\nHer hands shook and she didn't know why." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: A homeless man decides to rob a bank so he can go to prison for long term food and shelter." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The line at the bank was long, but Frank wasn’t worried, he had nowhere else to go and nowhere else to be and it was warm and out of the snow. He’d been homeless for nearly a year now and it had been hard; only 19 years old he’d never been anywhere but his home city, never even visited friends more than a bus ride away.\n\nHis Dad had been a hard man, ex army and determined that Frank would be tough. That meant kicking the shit out of him pretty much every day to “Harden him up”. From 8 to 18 Frank had rarely gone a month without a visit to hospital for everything from broken arms to a punctured lung. The latter had been when his Dad had used him as a human dart board at age 12 but had used knives instead of darts.\n\nIt had been one of the few times that social services had actually bothered to speak to him but in the end they hadn’t believed him. His home was neat and tidy and Frank was in trouble a lot at school and so they’d accepted his father’s story about Frank drinking and doing drugs. When he’d got out he’d only been home six hours before his Dad had put him right back in hospital with three broken ribs.\n\nHe’d tried to run away dozens of times but he’d always been picked up and taken home pretty quick, he was too scared to run far and had no money and no way to get away from the area. At 18 his Dad had told him that he could either join the army or fuck off and never come home. He’d tried to join up, anything seemed better than being at home, but he’d been told that his health and all those hospital trips had made him ineligible.\n\nThat had made his Dad furious. That night he’d got drunk, kicked the shit out of Frank and thrown him out of the house with nothing but the clothes on his back. He’d never gone home again. The first week had been hard but compared to living at home it wasn’t so bad. He was skinny and small and looked pretty pathetic, begging worked okay for him and he stayed away from trouble as best he could. When he did get beaten up it was never as bad as his Dad so overall it was still a win for him.\n\nThe winter had come now though and he needed help. This morning he’d been frozen to the alley where he’d slept and his hand had lost half of its skin when he pried it from the cold concrete, so he’d come up with a plan. He knew he was a loser so he might as well get the benefit of the one place he could be sure of hot meals and the occasional shower, prison.\n\nSlowly he was drawing near the front of the queue now and he nervously fingered the piece of paper he’d written. He just wanted it to go down quickly and for him not to be shot; he prayed he wouldn’t be shot.\n\nAt last he was at the front and he slipped the piece of paper across to the nice looking girl. She read it and looked at him, there was terror in her eyes. He hated that, he didn’t want to scare her but he’d had to include a threat on the note, it asked for all the money in her till and said he had a gun, he bulged his pocket out at an angle to make it look as real as he could.\n\nShe slowly reached down, careful not to make any sudden moves and opened her drawer. She pulled a large envelope out of her desk and filled it with the notes and slowly handed it back to him. She then backed away a little and stared with huge, panicky eyes.\n\nHe’d hope that there would be an alarm, that it would be over quickly but he supposed that he’d have to play the game. Taking the envelope he slowly walked out, waiting at any moment for the alarm to ring and to be pinned to the floor, but it didn’t come. Outside he dawdled along the pavement and at the end of the street used a twenty to buy a hotdog and ate it by the stand. It was the best hot dog he’d ever had.\n\nAfter a few minutes no one came out, he looked up and there were plenty of cameras and so he slowly wandered away, making no attempt to hide or disguise his route. Twenty minutes later he was getting frustrated, honestly, what did it take to be arrested in this town. He sat on a bench and reviewed and slowly a new feeling came across him.\n\nThe envelope was stuffed with money and no one was coming for him, no one seemed to care. Thousands and thousands in cash just sitting in his lap, he’d never had more than ten bucks on him at once before. He looked up and in front of him the bus station loomed large. Well, maybe they were coming for him he reflected but that didn’t mean he had to make it easy for them. Smiling for the first time in years, Frank went to look for a bus to wherever was furthest away from right there." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: A notorious pirate is sailing the seas looking for treasure but never finds any, while his crew throws parties every night. You're the ship's accountant and you are starting to get annoyed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A tanker half-full of grog flew over Charles’s head, yet the accountant pressed on. The Queen Anne's Exuberance was abuzz tonight. The guitarist stolen from a spanish vessel a week prior was strumming brilliantly. Crewmen eyed Charles warily as he passed by their tables-- every time he turned up they knew he would try to stop their fun. An uninvited chaperone if ever there was one.\n\nIn the back of the mess hall, surrounded by blue smoke and wrapped in the legs of the silent whore they’d taken from the human trader the day before, sat Captain Morgan. His beard was wet and matted with grog and his reddened eyes spoke of one too many drags of cigar.\n\nCharles strained to speak over the spanish guitar and harsh laughter aboard the ship. “Captain.” Charles began, clearing his throat. The captain didn’t hear, his ear belonged to the whore-- literally. She sucked the top while he laughed a hard, wheezing laugh.\n\n“Captain,” Charles stepped forward putting himself between the lantern’s light and the captain. “Captain Morgan, sir, I must have a word.”\n\nOut of the shadow, a mountain sprung. Steadily at first, until on his feet, then Morgan felt the grog in his knees and wobbled. “What is it Schaub? What do you want at a time like this?” A rough hand and spun the accountant around tucking him under the captain’s tree trunk arm. Charles and Morgan were greeted with raised mugs and shouts. “Can’t you see that we’re having a good time? Relaxing after a long day of sailing. Who am I to deny this crew of that pleasure hmm.” The smoke in the captain's voice rivalled that of the cigar’s swirling around the hall.\n\nCharles pulled himself away from the captain and untucked his ledger from the crook of his arm. “Sir, that’s what you hired me for.” Charles felt the wary looks sweep across him like a hard salt spray. “I’ve been going over the expenses, earnings,” he paused. “And the grog budget.” An audible sigh of annoyance rose from the room at the mention of grog. “We can’t afford to keep spending like this.”\n\nCaptain Morgan stepped backwards and braced himself against a table before erupting in laughter. “Charles, we’re fuckin’ pirates. We don’t afford anything, we take it as we see fit.” The captain turned to the crew, hands upturned and a face red from laughter. They responded in kind with whoops and calls for more drink.\n\nCharles took a step towards the wobbling captain and turned his face away from the crew to the whore, and then dropped his gaze from her out of courtesy. “But, sir.” Charles said. “We haven’t taken anything in quite some time. Just more mouths to feed.” He gestured toward the whore who was now twirling her hair around a slender finger and puffing blue smoke from a tongueless mouth.\n\nThe captain raised a glass to the crew and sat back down, gesturing for Charles to do the same. “Mr. Schaub, I hear your concerns,” He said softly so that Charles had to strain to hear. “And believe me, I share them. I really do. Soon we’ll have no money for grog, much less food.” The captain upturned his hands on the table and looked stricken. “I’ve been betting on a big haul for some time now with no success. For the time being, I need to keep up appearances or else…” He drew a line across his throat with a bulging finger.\n\nCharles’s chest grew fiery. “You’ve known all this time. We’ve been broke and you just kept spending away. How--” The captain lowered a hand trying to shush the accountant. Charles looked at the whore with venom. “What about her, she just heard everything.”\n\nCaptain Morgan sighed and took his cigar back. “And who, pray, will she tell Charles? She’s a mute.”\n\nCharles nodded. He felt the flush in his chest working its way up now. His own throat tightened and his mouth grew dry. “So what do you plan on doing? Waiting is getting you nowhere. Sooner or later, we’ll run out of essentials and then what?”\n\nThe captain shrugged. It was the first time he’d looked unsure of anything in all the time that Charles knew him. The captain once told Charles when he took residence on the Exuberance that any loon could be a pirate.To be a good one meant decisiveness. There was no room for indecisiveness with so many cutlasses about to cut it out of you.\n\nIt was then that Charles had an idea. One that required a great deal of preparation, but he thought, with the right crew it could be done.\n\nCaptain Morgan watched the gears turn in Charles’s head and spoke. “Have you any ideas Mr. Schaub?”\n\nCharles’s sheepish look spread into a devious smile. “In fact I do. It’ll take a bit of work though.” Captain Morgan leaned forward, pushing his cup of grog to the side. “First, if I’m not mistaken, there’s a Spanish treasure fleet making its way out of the Atlantic basin soon. They’re docked right now, but only for a while. Were going to need to capture another spanish ship in the meantime and steal their uniforms, flags, everything.”\n\nThe captain’s smile broke against his yellowing teeth as he nodded, letting his mop of tangled black hair fall over his eyes.\n\n“Then, we’ll have the musician teach the crew some spanish-- enough to get by. Once we speak, look, and sail Spanish, how will they know the difference? We slip into the fleet once they leave their dock and strike the man o’ war in the night. Then we make off with the gold and head straight for Tortuga.”\n\nThe captain laughed. “My,” He said and stood, looking approvingly down at his accountant. “That’s downright devilish. I love it.” He turned to the crew, who necked around as the captain stepped up. “Alright boys,” he roared. “Who wants to go steal some spanish gold?”\n\nThe crew stood frenzied at once. Splashes of grog flew into the air and came down upon the savage crowd. Captain Morgan caught a flying tankard and walked to the closest tapped barrel and filled it. He stumbled back to Charles and handed him his drink. “A pirate’s life for me, Charles. And, I think for you too.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Write a story about the conflict between the protagonist and antagonist, from the protagonist's point of view. Over the course of the story, it is slowly revealed that the protagonist is actually the evil one, and the antagonist is good." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I shivered. Maybe it was just the draft, though.\n\n'And then what?'\n\n'And then she got what was coming to her,' Leigh said with a self-satisfied smile. God, those smiles. Some people are so full of themselves there's just no place left for anything else—for any of that beauty that we live and die for. Like a balloon full of feces that just pretty much... falls to the ground and bursts and then there's nothing but the stench and crap all over the place. Okay, maybe that's not the best analogy, the shit-filled balloon, but it's a vivid one. \"She got what was coming to her'—is that really a way to be talking about someone you held, or at least pretended to hold dear? I could never understand that kind of attitude, that kind of vocabulary.\n\n'The bitch,' he added, apparently for full measure.\n\n'Yeah,' I said vaguely. Talk of vocabulary, now... My moustache didn't feel right and it bothered me, and my hair itched. It was really painful, sitting there listening to him deliver his grand soliloquy of righteous indignation.\n\n''cause you know,' he continued thoughtfully, 'there's only so much one can take. I mean, I get it, she's not happy with me, but hell, she has been married to that ugly grease-face for eight years now, and all the while the arrangement worked for everyone, right? And now all of a sudden she's Mrs Right and somehow I'm the bad guy because I still haven't divorced Gina. Well, screw that! It was never supposed to last for long anyway, and maybe I was wrong to fall in love with her at the end, but hell... Well anyway, I kicked her out that night and that was the end of it. Yeah, hurt my hand, too, but maybe that'll teach her a lesson.'\n\nWhy are you so full of yourself? I kept thinking all the while. It was really very amusing in a bizarre, unhealthy way. The man thought the world revolved around him, whereas most decidedly it didn't... It didn't revolve around him because he wasn't very clever, nor very good-looking. In fact, I never understood what she found in him to begin with. He never even earned that much.\n\nThe hair itch was becoming unbearable, so I tore off the hair plugs and the moustache, too, and spit out the fake veneers.\n\n'What the fuck is that?' he said, all agitation suddenly, the hot self-centredness leaving him like a rotten burp.\n\n'What?' I said absent-mindedly. The puffed lips were hurting.\n\n'Bert? Bert? How... How the hell...'\n\nI kicked him real hard in the chest and he fell backwards, upsetting the table, too, with my little delicate espresso cups. What a buffoon.\n\n'Maybe I should kill you,' I said. 'Maybe that way you two will finally be together?'\n\nThat cast a cloud o'er his fair brow. I chuckled, as I thought those very words. Verbatim.\n\n'How do you mean?' Now he croaks, look at that, all of a sudden he is no longer so certain. Maybe the whole eight years was a mistake, huh? Maybe you should have divorced Gina? Maybe not so much a grease-face as Mr Practical Seminar in Finding Your Liver with Only Kitchen Utensils? Maybe all this was a giant mistake and you should have never befriended the weird dude in a bar? Maybe you don't know what love is, so you shouldn't talk about something you haven't the slightest idea about? You ugly muppet? You ugly, disgusting piece of deceiving horseshit, you maggot pie?\n\nOK, I have to stop, it's all too slippery by now, and I'm all hot and sweaty. Where's that draft when you need it! And I still have to dress this place up, all nice and proper, and then cook the dinner and set the table. I bought us a couple of tickets to the seaside, I'm sure she will love it.\n\nI understand Gina loves the seaside." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: When the worst of the worst war criminals die, They aren't sent to hell, but are instead forced to fight on the opposite side of the conflict for eternity." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Let me be clear with you: I have no idea how and why I’m here.\n\nIf my memory serves me right, it was June 19, 1947, at exactly 6:35:09 PM. I was walking up the steps, hands chained behind my back, my footsteps heavy as they landed against the rickety wooden stairs. Slowly, I took in my last breaths as the faces of my family, my children, my friends, my people, flashed across my face. The gallows await, dark against the sinking sun.\n\nI died that day.\n\nSo why am I here?\n\n“Willy!” an American soldier says cheerfully, offering me a square of chocolate. “Cheer up! We’re meeting up with the Brits today!” He follows this statement with a poor imitation of a British accent.\n\nThis is my first reincarnation. I am an American soldier, a twenty-one-year-old, sandy-haired young man from Montana.\n\nI kill him off immediately by stepping into the woods and firing a pistol into my mouth.\n\nThe second time, I am a 52-year-old, balding, telecommunications manager in Washington D.C. I try to sabotage American lines and make contact with the Reich. It works.\n\nI am immediately thrown into a prison and am executed for traitorous actions.\n\nThe third time, I’m a bit smarter and slightly more insane. I’m a lieutenant in the British forces. The first time I see a German soldier, I immediately flag him down and tell him that I have a message from the Reich. We agree on a rendezvous point, and I send information from British HQ to him, which he passes onto the Reich. I will be picked up by the Reich promptly.\n\nHe returns and shoots me in the head. My information was false.\n\nBy the fourth incarnation, I’m wondering if I’ve really been reincarnated into the past and if my actions have any weight at all. As a records manager in the French government, looking things up is no problem.\n\nAs it turns out, I don’t exist in this world. There is no record of myself anywhere. This isn’t the war that I fought in.\n\nI drink myself into a stupor and die from alcohol poisoning.\n\nThe fifth time. I’m a regular soldier, a dark-haired private in the American army. I’ve made my decision: if I survive, I win. I get to rest in peace. No more of this.\n\nI make friends with a young soldier. His name is Jeffrey. We don’t talk very much, but we eat together. HIs companionship is nice.\n\nThe other soldiers find a dog. We train it to fetch sticks and forage for food. The other soldiers start talking to me.\n\nSlowly, but surely, I grow to like these men. I watch them cry over letters from their mothers, feast on tea and chocolate sent to them in packages, and sing drunkenly over campfires. I too get packages, but they’re from people I don’t know.\n\nThey seem like Germans to me. We appear to have the same sense of brotherhood.\n\nHowever, when I’m racing up the hills of France, I see the face of a young German soldier. I’m paralyzed. He’s my brother. All these men are my brothers. I can’t kill him. I can’t kill any of them.\n\nThe terror in the young German’s eyes is the last thing I see before I crumple to the ground.\n\nSix. A popular, well-liked cadet in an American military school. Top of the class. Died on the beaches of Normandy.\n\nSeven. A French soldier ferried to the front lines. I kissed my wife and daughter before I left. Died from a grenade explosion.\n\nEight. A Russian peasant sent to the war with nothing. I stole what I could, desperately clinging to life. Died from the cold.\n\nNine. A Swedish medic. I tend to hundreds of men, hands flying over their wounds and desperately trying to save each and every one. Died from disease and exhaustion.\n\nTen. A child. A little British boy. It’s the Dresden bombings.\n\nEleven. An engineer working on an American bomb. If I recall, this is the one that they dropped on Japan. Died from… something.\n\nTwelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.\n\nI’m on the twenty-sixth one now.\n\nThe lines between friend and foe have blurred. I love my fellow soldiers like my brothers. I’ve laughed with them, cried with them, lived with them. German. American. Japanese. French. British. Polish. I learn their stories, hear about their girlfriends, dance with local women. I read the scathing but worried letters from their mothers, eat the same food. We sleep in the same mud, laugh at the same jokes.\n\nIf I must reincarnate for all eternity, I embrace it with open arms.\n\nI can no longer bear to hate these men." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Humanity makes contact with intelligent but delicious aliens." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We were done for. It was just Dr. Bernard and myself, trapped in this little cavern on a planet we barely knew anything about. So much for the reward of risk in being a S.T.A.A.T. Explorer.\n\n\"You have to go, all the others are dead and I'm just going to slow you down.\" Dr. Bernard spoke with an exhaustive tone. He glanced up at me, and said quietly \"Whatever those things were, they were not peaceful, and they do not want us here.\"\n\nMy mind couldn't comprehend the intensity of the situation. I came from a humble background where education was my life and excitement was something that rarely came about. A huge part of me wishes I just stayed in my quiet room, continuing my equations.\n\nAll of a sudden, I heard them coming, the aliens that shred my friends to pieces. A thousand things were rushing through my mind like a powerful electric surge that only grew stronger.\n\nI could see them now. Four of them.\n\nThey ran closer.\n\nCloser.\n\nI panicked.\n\nI opened my mouth and started biting at them.\n\nWhy I did this still confounds me to this day, but I am forever thankful that in that fit of panic and rage, my first instinct was to bite.\n\nThe shock of me biting into them was, however, quickly taken over by the confusion I now had. Because you see, they tasted absolutely delicious.\n\nThe tenderness of the meat tasted like every meat put together and cooked at the right temperature. Their skin was was an extremely flavorful and succulent barbecue sauce that had me craving more after each bite. Their eyes were the best part however. They popped with a juicy explosion of gravy that complimented the body's meat spectacularly.\n\nIn all of my excitement and confusion, I had not realized that I had eaten all of them. Not a single piece was left.\n\n\"What the fucking fuck\", Dr. Bernard yelled, with a disturbed look on his face.\n\nAt that moment, my face grew a smile, and I replied with a confidence I had never felt before, \"Hold on Doctor, I'm getting us the hell out of here!\"\n\nYou know how a mom can lift a car off a baby in the heat of a the moment? Well, I was that angry Mama as I hauled Dr. Bernard over my shoulder and starting running through the cavern and back to our ship.\n\nTwo popped out of nowhere, and I quickly bit off ones leg, and shredded anothers' delectable nose.\n\nThree more appeared and started giving chase, and one actually managed to land on my head with his small legs wrapped around my face and his groin, perfectly centered in front of my mouth. I did what needed to be done.\n\nThe other two manage to grab Dr. Bernard and fling him to the floor. Their sweet, and tender hands rose up, ready to strike the doctor. I sprung into action, dove forward and ripped of his whole arm with my jaw. I quickly got up, licked my fingers, and went for the last little bugger.\n\nOnce again, Dr. Bernard had that look of disturbance on his face.\n\nI grabbed, him, ran to the ship, and we made our beautiful escape.\n\nWhen I finally got back to headquarters, I was welcomed like a hero. I was being hailed as the person to discover a new race, and to figure out their intentions. Not only that, I saved my friend in the process. The whole time I was standing there, all I could think about though, was how big of a shit I had to take.\n\nEdit: I just realized I didn't make the aliens intelligent, sorry." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: After a freak accident, your precious musician ears go deaf. But instead of going completely silent, you start hearing a different world. Slowly it's taking over your other senses." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My world is just a blur now. I had it all. Money, women, fame; It was all mine and now I have nothing except a Wikipedia page and a leftover savings. A good Majority of my savings went to fund research programs to restore hearing for humans. Funny how I never even batted an eye for this small programs, but when I was inflicted with this gruesome curse, I dumped all my time, energy, and money into it.\n\nWhen I lost my hearing it was all so... sudden; like a bolt of lighting or a muzzle flash of a gun. At first, I had a tiny flame of hope shining in the dark room of denial; hoping it would spread into an inferno, making my denial into ash and birthing a phoenix of life and prosperity, to soar the lands of eternity. But that light quickly was put out by the high-paid doctors and overpaid psychologists.\n\nAbout a year after I lost my hearing I fell into a deep depression; its webs strong and grip unbreakable. I felt trapped in a tight place, constantly gasping for air; always on the verge of running out of air, only to realize that the air was abundant. And so was my sorrow. But there was the faintest hint of something; something much more than a small spell of depression. Something that would soon change my life and, literally, change the world around me.\n\nIt was my birthday, May sixth, and all of my guests wrote happy birthday with sparklers. I admire their motivation to make me feel like I'm not lost, but that feeling was long gone; like my hearing. After the party ended I trapped myself into my room, lights off, and screamed. Or at least I thought I was, who knows. Then I froze. I HEARD something?! Impossible. I sat completely still, and how comedic it may have appeared at the time, I listened. I wanted to believe so badly, that I was right and I really did here something, but being a cynical asshole like myself made it strenuous.\n\nI screamed and screamed and the sound came again. I couldn't believe it. It was like the sound of rain. Raindrops smashing against a car windshield is the best way I could describe it. And with this discovery, being alone was my past time. Each month that flew by my senses became more and more keen to this mysterious sound. Then I began to see it. Can you believe it? Seeing a sound. But believe me, I'm not fibbing you. It was so odd to have this type of perception for a sound.\n\nI heard stories of people high on acid; how they can see taste and taste sound, all of that weird nonsense. But whatever was happening to me was... out of this world.\n\nThree years down the road I used the last of my funds to buy a cabin secluded deep in a forest. No one knew where I went, nor why. And not to my knowledge, it was to their relief. This I figured out long, long down the road. The sound was so loud; it was a constant rain storm over my head, and I loved it. I began to see more vivid images of this phenomena, and they almost felt real. They were real. This world forging around me was... my world.\n\nThen one stormy night, either in my world or the false reality I once called home, I was completely submerged. Rain all around me and all I saw was this sound. I was in, from what I can describe, a giant box with zero light, but all of the rain drops were visible and audible. It was amazing. The sound was like music to my ears and the feeling I get from being able to use that saying brings euphoria to my heart.\n\nThen one day it all ended. And I awoke in my room. Dark and gloomy. The same life I lived before I heard the noise. The same dull, soundless life. Until I peered out my window. There was the world- my world! just outside the door! I quickly bolted downstairs and made my way for the front door. Only to be halted by my supposed wife. She held me tight. KI screamed; so did the sound of rain. She held me down and two men dressed in white grabbed me. Then after that, it was all a blur.\n\nThen I woke up in that black box, filled with rain and sound. And again I was happy. I was in eminence.\n\nAfter ten years of these on and off realities I came to a menacing conclusion. I was in not other world at all. No, I was in solitary confinement in an insane asylum. And that raining sound. That sound was the last bits of my soul washing away," } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You died protecting your family, and have watched over them ever since as a ghost. However, your child has been going on a quest to avenge you, and you are getting somewhat nervous at the ends they are going to in order to enact revenge." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Soon the son of the family had made enemies, not only with the clan that was responsible for his father's death, but with all of the allies of the clan. In fact, he had managed to turn the whole western countryside against him.\n\nHis own clan allies were no longer willing to stand with him. Even the kinsman of his own clan were reluctant to join him on his next expedition. They would guard his mother and sister with their lives, but as far as going up against the western countryside, he was on his own.\n\nMeanwhile in the spirit realm, his father, whose death the son wanted to avenge, watched, and had been watching from the very beginning: how the son murdered a kinsman of the Hill clan and how the Hill clan had returned the favor by murdering one of his own; and how he, along with some cousins belonging to the neighboring clans, raided the western countryside and kidnapped some of the inhabitants for ransom. And on and on it went until finally the warring sides had come to an agreement to allow the son to continue his foolhardy quest of revenge but to require all the clans to cease hostilities with one another, before things got out of hand.\n\nThe son found himself alone in his quest against the Hill Clan and its allies united in their intention to put an end to him.\n\nNot willing to see what would happen next, the father turned away and sat down at a table. He sat there and waited. It would not take long for the ghost of his son to appear seated at the other end of the table, joining his father in the spirit realm.\n\n\"I did what I had to do,\" the son told the father, after they had embraced and shed a few tears of happy reunion. \"I couldn't just let it be. I knew there was a good chance that I would end up here with you with little to show for my efforts up to that point. But I couldn't just accept what they had done. I would never have been at peace. I had to do it. I know that you would rather have had me move on, if only to give myself a chance to enjoy the rest of my days with what remained of our family. But I couldn't. I guess you see it as a failure, and I'm sorry.\"\n\nHis father shrugged. \"I knew that even if I had the ability to communicate with you from beyond the grave, nothing I could say would convince you otherwise. It is as you've said: you had to do it, and I understand. But your efforts will bear bitter fruit. You will see that in a moment.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" asked the son.\n\n\"Stay here at the table for a while and you'll see.\"\n\nThey didn't have to sit long before they saw his sister appear at the table, and soon afterward his mother.\n\n\"What?\" the son cried. \"What happened? Did they attack our village? Did they invade our home and kill you two?\"\n\n\"Not exactly,\" the sister said. \"After your death, I went on a quest of vengeance of my own. I was able to kill the ones that killed you before falling myself. Mother was at least able to slit the throat of their patriarch.\"\n\nAfter hearing all of this, the father sighed. \"This is all so very grim. I didn't want this for any of you. I don't like these killings. Pretty soon there will be nobody left in our clan.\"\n\n\"You might be right about that,\" the mother said. \"My little assassination has precipitated an all-out war between the clans of the east and the clans of the western countryside. We'll be seeing a lot more souls arriving in our realm before long.\"\n\nThe father sighed again. \"I don't know what to say. What am I going to do with all of you?\"\n\nThey sat there in silence.\n\n\"At least we're all together now,\" said the son. \"And we're free from the cares and worries of the mortal realm. I must admit we've left quite a mess for everyone else.\"\n\nThe son continued to watch his father for any reaction or change of expression.\n\n\"At least we're together again,\" the son said.\n\nAfter sitting for a few moments in silent reflection, the father looked up at his family: his son, his daughter, his wife. \"Yes,\" he said. \"We're here together again, and in the only way that we can be. We may not have made the best choices, but it's not easy when you're born into a world like that. The way I see it, it was inevitable that it would come to an all-out war. Enough time will pass where none of this will matter.\"\n\nHe took the hands of his son, his daughter, and his wife into his own. \"But we are here together again. I choose to take comfort in that.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You've been talking with your partner for hours now, bouncing from one subject to the next. The subject of being in a coma comes up, and they go quiet. When pressed, they quietly say \"I know you're happy now, but it's time to wake up, my love.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I chuckle a bit at the statement, thinking it's her trying to play one of her mischievous pranks on me.\n\nI brush the hair from her face, smiling just as warmly at her as she does to me, as we lay curled together in beautiful bliss on our own bed. Her company always filling my heart with the joy I never thought I could achieve in life.\n\n\"Whatever could you mean, my darling?\"\n\nI reply to her as her smile slowly fades into a small frown of sadness. Her quietly whispering;\n\n\"You have to wake up now. Please, my love. Wake up for me.\"\n\nHer last words echoing in my mind. Seeming to drone on endlessly. The waves of warmth and bliss I once felt being replaced with a cold bitter chill. It seemed to bite at my very bones.\n\nI couldn't stop shaking as I watched her vanish before my eyes and my perception of reality began to warp. No longer in my bed, instead standing waist-deep in a pool of dark water.\n\nUnable to see through it's murky depths.\n\nUnable to see any end or beginning to it's unnaturally still surface.\n\nThe only waves are made as I struggle to try and wade my way through the waters. Calling out for my lover with each step. My only concern being what happened to her.\n\nMy voice struggles to come out. It hurts to even breathe. It feels like I'm drowning.\n\nThat's when I realize the water is all around me. It's no longer just at my waist.\n\nI scream in horror, yet no sound is released. It's so silent that it is deafening.\n\nAm I dying?\n\nAm I...already dead?\n\nI try to cry out for my love one last time. The pain feeling as though it's shaking my very existence to it's core.\n\nIt stops.\n\nEverything just...stops.\n\nI'm back, standing only ankle-deep in the pool, yet the water is illuminated by a bright light. The light of the full moon.\n\nThe water seems so much clearer. So beautiful as it reminds me of the times I spent with her.\n\nOur first kiss on the beach under the full moon.\n\nOur memories we created side-by-side.\n\nOur future plans we had made with one another.\n\nWe had so many dreams for the future. Each one grander than the next. The one consistency to them all being;\n\nThat we would do them together. Always.\n\nSuddenly she stood before me in a wispy gown, it's length slowly wading a trail behind her in the waters.\n\nI breathe a sigh of relief. The air feels so soothing to my lungs, almost as much as her vision of loveliness is to my soul.\n\nHer touch is so warm. It pulls all of the chill from my body as she embraces me ever so lovingly.\n\nShe stares deep into my eyes as she says to me in a comforting tone;\n\n\"It's time to wake up. I love you more than you will ever know and that is why I can't let you stay here.\"\n\nI see tears stream down her face as she forces a pained smile. Her voice shaking with each word as she continues;\n\n\"You have to let me go. You have to move on. You have to live for us both. I want you to love and live life to the fullest. I can't bear to see you get swallowed in despair.\"\n\nI feel the tears streaming down my own face, choking back the sobs I want so badly to let free.\n\n\"I will always love you. Please don't ever think I don't.\"\n\nI managed to choke out the words my heart never could allow me to say. The words that I hoped I never would have to say.\n\n\"Oh, my sweet love...I know that you love me. I will always love you too. Never forget that our memories will always be with you.\"\n\nShe says with a slightly happier smile from her tear-streaked cheeks. She leans in and kisses me ever so softly on the lips.\n\nThe last vision I have of her I will ever see.\n\nThe last feeling of her I will ever feel.\n\nI awake from my coma knowing already that I was the only survivor from our tragic wreck into the waters.\n\nBefore I can descend into the agony of pain that this horrible reality has brought upon me;\n\nI remember her presence. Still being able to feel it.\n\nShe's still with me in my heart and my memories.\n\nI sob for the first time, not of grief, but of knowing that I truly had experienced what love is." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You’re a sanitation engineer, maintaining the sewers of a city. What you don’t realize is that there are supernatural creatures living in them. Your diligent maintenance and repair efforts constantly foil their plans to capture, eat, and bewitch the city’s citizens." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I am the lord of the sewers. Sorry, my wife hates it when I call myself that; I am the lead sanitation engineer maintaining the sewers. When I say lead engineer I mean only, for some reason any new recruits are spooked out of the job. Since everyone was scared to take the job I am forced to take it on alone.\n\nKeeping the whole entire sewer system, that spans over several hundred miles under the city, sanitary all by myself is quit the feat; to get an idea of how I do it all introduce you to my “subjects”.\n\nI command a fleet of one-hundred “llitterbots”, which are about two feet tall, they roll around and have extending arms to pick up any trash from the sewers water. Along with these bots I have three hundred sludge runners that float along the sewage and clear up any blockages.\n\nI have the sewer divided into sections using these water purification gates, water can pass but nothing else. I have doors with passcode locks on each gate, which allows me to section of smaller pieces of the sewer and isolate any problems.\n\nThese past few days I have noticed that weird things were happening in one sector in particular, sector 23-P. The first thing to go amiss was the absence of litterbot when I took roll, when I went to investigate I noticed that the walls of the sector had scratches and holes in them and that missing litterbot was busted open. My first thought of course was that there must be some punks or homeless people that pried open a sewer grate to make some trouble down here.\n\nOver the next week I repaired all of the damages to the sectors walls and replaced the litterbot. I placed cameras in the sector just in case whoever it was decides that they want to come back.\n\nAfter about a week of nothing, two ot the sectors adjacent to 23-P had suffered similar damages to the former sector. This time after I repaired the damages I started to install cameras in every sector. I couldn’t do it all at once, but these punks had declared war on my turf. I am going all in.\n\nOkay, I think I might back off. I caught one of the perpetrators on camera. The perpetrator? It was a werewolf. I don’t get paid enough for this.\n\nPhew. Okay this is fine, werewolves are nothing. I am an engineer, right? Even more so I am the Ruler of this land. So I decided to add a guard to my ranks, a robotic guard that is. The Clushers that I built were six feet tall and made of titanium, they carried around a silver tipped spear in one hand and a sword in the other. I was able to make ten for now to patrol the areas that I know have seen trouble.\n\nThis was my first time, but creating robots made for war is kinda fun. The Clushers were a success as I started to find corpses of various creatures among the sewage. Finding corpses like this is very disturbing mind you; what am I even supposed to do with them?\n\nI caught one fight one camera between a Clusher and what seemed to be an ogre. The ogre carried a club that was fashioned out of a sewer pipe. Thankfully the superior reach of the spear allowed the Clusher to claim victory over the ogre. I just said something incredibly bizarre, who knew I would ever say something like that?\n\nThat is about all I can tell you for now, it looks like a vampire is engaging in combat with a Clusher. I am the lord of the sewers so I must go!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: People hide their souls in objects to protect them, it’s your job to find people’s objects and destroy them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Joseph Erins was the name they gave me today. Died earlier this morning in a car accident, needs his soul retrieved.\n\nJoesph was an amateur practitioner, like damn near everyone nowadays. He hopped on the phylactery trend and hid his soul somewhere in his house for safe keeping. Don’t know what he was planning on doing with it, maybe try something grand and stupid like most of the Instagram wizard crowd, but he was dead so he ain’t using it anymore. Now I just had to get it before some wanna-be necromancer got his hands on it.\n\nFinding his house was easy enough, he had his address posted on his Facebook. Which also meant that I didn’t have a lot of time before the vultures started swooping in. Getting in was pretty easy too, just a couple of magic knocks and the door opened itself for me.\n\nGetting through the house though, massive pain in the ass.\n\nIt was a small house and good old joseph had filled it to the brim with books, toys, kitchen supplies, movie posters, anything this guy was half into he had a small portion of his house dedicated to.\n\nAnd somewhere in all this crap was the guy’s soul.\n\nI grumbled and started sitting through the piles. Usually people put their souls in objects that have some kind of personal significance to them, a childhood toy or a lover’s gift, because the emotional attachment creates a strong bond to draw in the soul. Without that attachment you’d have to use twice as much power for a ritual that really isn’t all that worth it. I mean, sure, if you’re being targeted by some seriously dark shit, it’s good to hide your soul so that they can’t claim it when they kill you. If you’re life is pretty vanilla though and you’re just playing around with magic, you really shouldn’t. Stuff can get stolen, you can misplace it, your next of kin forgets to break it so you spend the rest of eternity waiting in your grandson’s toy chest waiting for the day he “accidentally” drops you, all very real possibilities.\n\nAfter combing for about an hour, I found a shoe box under a bunch of paperbacks from a guy named “butcher”. I opened it up, and inside was a wand, some crystals, a deck of rider-waite tarot cards, an old leather journal, and an engagement ring that glowed ever so slightly blue. Mission accomplished.\n\nI pocketed the ring to safely destroy it later. I picked up the leather bound journal, staring at its blank cover wrapped in tight brown string. Ah, why not, let’s see what old Joseph was doing. I undid the string and opened up the book.\n\nCard readings, some basic runic, a Mary is mentioned a couple of times, pretty standard stuff.\n\nAnd then I turn over to the last page.\n\n…that shouldn’t be there.\n\nIt’s a necromantic ritual. It’s not uncommon for someone to be interested in that stuff, so as a safe measure, the wizards of old started leaking in false info back when this kind of stuff started going through the printing presses. Nowadays, pretty much 90% of all necromancy texts are full of bogus.\n\nExcept in here, Joseph’s got the right runes and incantations for a full ‘soul transference’.\n\nThere’s no way that he could’ve just stumbled onto this.\n\nThere’s a necromancer somewhere in town.\n\nI heard a car pull up in the driveway and peaked through the blinds to see a bunch of men in black hopping out of a crown Vic painted all black. Looks like Joseph isn’t as vanilla as I thought.\n\nI ducked through the back door and hopped the fence. I need to get back to the boss and tell them what I found.\n\nThen we need to have a little chat with joe." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Write a story where the last line changes the hero into a villain." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Robert has dreamed of this moment his entire life. The moment when he gets to be the hero. There were kids who loved superheroes, then there were super hero nerd, and then at the top of the pile, there was Robert. A stronger word even than obsessed feels appropriate here. Until an embarrassingly mature age (to which Robert would never admit!), he truly believed he was born on Krypton. He would scour the neighbourhood on his bike, self-fashioned cape billowing behind him. Despite the few occasions where his cape got caught in his wheels and sent him unceremoniously over the handlebars of his trusty steed, Super Robert persisted. Not on his watch, would anything untoward happen in his neck of the woods.\n\nSo here we are, in the present day. With a semi-retired 23 year old Super Robert bearing witness to a young lady being swept downstream, clearly in need of help. And who better to step in, then the boy who grew up a super hero. He had trained for this moment his whole life. Well, kind of – Robert wasn’t the world’s strongest swimmer. But hey, he was a super hero, it would all work out.\n\nRobert leapt into action, closing the distance between the two quickly, until he was sprinting along the bank next to the woman. Her eyes wide with panic, she reached out a hand desperately towards Robert, screaming incoherently. Using his well-honed skills, Robert identified a part of the bank with a large tree he could anchor himself to, and rushed towards it. Gripping the tree tightly with his right arm, he leant out towards the woman and managed to grab her by the wrist. The current was stronger than he realised, but not too strong - never too strong for Super Robert.\n\nHe could see it now, the adoring public, Robert speaking humbly to the TV presenter. The one on one interview with Ellen, where she brought out Henry Cavill to present him with his very own cape. The boy who loved Superman like no other, who became a hero himself.\n\nBut we must go back to the present, where Robert has just managed to extract the terrified young woman from the river. She threw her arms around him dramatically and sobbed into his chest. She was playing her part perfectly. Finally, she pulled herself together enough to speak.\n\n“Thank you, oh God thank you, I thought I was a goner for sure. Can I… Can I borrow your phone please? I have to call Johnny and let him know I’m OK.”\n\nRobert raised an eyebrow, who was Johnny? No it couldn’t be a boyfriend, that’s not how it’s supposed to work. He was the hero, and the hero gets the girl. Always. Super Robert always gets the girl. Robert stood slowly and wandered closer to the river. He spied his wallet, pinned against a log in the shallows.\n\n“Could you give a hand? I dropped my wallet, but it’s caught on a log here. Can you just step out quickly and grab it? It’s OK, I’ll be holding you the whole time, you can trust me.”\n\nThe girl hesitated, obviously with no appetite to re-enter the water. But what could she say? This guy had just saved her life. But there was something about the intensity of his gaze, which unsettled her.\n\n“Um, OK… But hold on tight!”\n\nRobert smiled, “I’ve got you.”\n\nShe stepped into the shallows, and felt the strength of the current, which had already drained all her strength. She shuddered, but reached out slowly towards the wallet. He had a strong grip on her arm, it was hurting her, but it was her lifeline – so she didn’t mind.\n\n“So, this Johnny, he’s your brother?”\n\n“I’ve almost got it. What? Um, no – Johnny is my boyfriend.”\n\nFor some reason, she didn’t want to tell him that. It shouldn’t matter, but there was something about his eyes, those eyes…\n\nRobert flinched. No, that was wrong. She can’t have a boyfriend; Super Robert always gets the girl.\n\n“I’ve got it! OK, pull me in.”\n\nShe held the wallet up triumphantly. He wasn’t even looking at her now though, and she felt her hand slipping. His death grip was loosening. She felt her hand sliding through his.\n\n“I’m slipping, quick – pull me back in!”\n\nRobert glanced back at her, stirred from his thoughts. No more adoring public, no more Ellen. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.\n\n“Please, I’m slipping – help me!”\n\nHis grip loosened further, he wasn’t even holding her anymore. Her hand slide from his and she toppled backwards over the log, at the mercy once more of the current. She got one last look at those eyes as she was swept away, but there was nothing behind them now, just emptiness.\n\nRobert turned away, shoulders slumped. That wasn’t how it worked, Super Robert always gets the girl…" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: \"Get the horsemen together; you're being reassigned. Hell's demons are invading Earth, and the four of you need to defend the humans.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The city was dead, the inhabitants did not know it yet.\n\nPeople screamed and died. The gates of Hell had opened and the demons fled their fiery home to lay waste to the humans. Demons of all shapes and sizes, terrors from nightmares and stories, true monsters long forgotten, rampaged across the world. Entire countries were consumed by fire leaving only ashes and bones. The animals fled and they were spared only if there were humans around. For the demons reveled on pain, on despair, on fear, on terror. Their cackles mingled with the cries, and terrible things were done by them for their amusement and hunger.\n\nThe armies of man tried to fight back, conventional arms as well as spiritual ones. Some were more successful than others, able to fight off probes and hold a line of sorts. Yet the strength of the demons was considerable, and victories hard won by the humans always meant the line was cut back, the circle shortened, the noose tightened. The world burned, and the line of fire drew closer and closer to the bastions of humanity, eager for tinder and fuel.\n\nThis city was just one off the most recent victims. A new portal was made and a near inexhaustible tide of Hell Spawn poured forth. They battered against the walls, whittling down the defenders and preventing the others from escaping. Finally the walls came down in a roar of thunder and the demons clawed their way into the city.\n\nA young woman screamed as she ran, dragging her sister along. Moments before she watched her other family members die, and she sobbed as she ran. Her desperation to save her sister was thick, the emotions saturated the air and the demons drooled from such rich fare. She fell, the ground splintered beneath her feet and she clutched her sister to her. She hid her sisters eyes while her own stared helplessly at their pursuer, a red skinned demon of horns and teeth. The blood of others dripped from claw and maw and he grinned with sadistic glee. She started to whisper a prayer and it winced at first, face twisting as it stomped closer.\n\n“Even now you still believe? How naive,” it spat as it came closer to the trembling sisters. “Very well, I shall send you there faster.” It raised a gore soaked claw and the arm fell. The woman screamed as she hugged her sister, eyes screwed shut. The demon screamed, in pain and the blow never came. Her eyes opened and she gasped at the demon clutching a stump, the clawed hand lying some feet away. The demon howled curses, words that burned her ears and its mouth gaped in rage and agony. “How?! Human weapons are not this effective.”\n\n“This is no human weapon, though it looks like one.” A man slid from a ball of shadows and stood in front of the sisters, between them and the demon. He was dressed in black clothing that seemed to shift slightly, from robes to armor, to a suit, to fatigues. His skin was pale, deathly white like marble. In his hands he held a scythe, the haft of dark mahogany and a blade that glittered in the light of the fires. The edge looked gleamed, and the demon’s blood seemed to be drunk by the blade.\n\nThe demon’s yellow eyes widened and it pointed with its stump. “You! What are you doing? You should be aiding us.”\n\nThe man shook his head, his hair swaying back and forth. “No. I should not. We are judgement, punishment, tools for a singular will. This is not the time for punishment of the mortals.” He advanced upon the demon and it backed away with uncertainty. “You lot are running wild, where you should not be. Your greed incited you, malcontents. You should have remained in your domain. For we now have a target for our ire, we have been told to do our tasks, to bring judgement on the deserving. Not man, but you and yours.”\n\nThe demon roared and ran forward, trying to bull over the scythe wielder. He stepped to one side and his hands moved, the blade sang, and the demon fell to the earth. As it laid there, bleeding and twitching the man stood over him, scythe held high. “When you return to Hell, tell your masters that they will no longer have their fun. Judgement is here. My brothers and I ride, and soon we will come to your doorstep.” Before it could reply the blade fell and the head fell away from the body.\n\nThe man walked back to the sisters and offered a pale hand in aid. Nervously, the older sister accepted it, surprised to find that the marble hand held warmth to it. “Th-thank you. Thank you so much.”\n\nHe bowed at the waist, and then pointed away from the doomed city. “He continues to watch you, and He sent us to your aid. Time prevented Him from acting sooner, yet we are here now. That way is safe, travel for one day and you will meet others who can save you.”\n\nA giant horse appeared, midnight black with eyes of white. It neighed, a mighty sound that made demons wail but filled the girls with hope. It wore no saddle, lead, or bridle yet it waited patiently by the man and he leapt upon it’s back. “Go now, and rest easy.” Shadows flowed ver him, turning hard and angular, before forming armor from a bygone age. The horse turned and stomped it’s leg eagerly, panting and staring at the approaching tide of demons. “Judgement has come for those that despoil the Earth.” A helmet encased the man’s head and the voice emerged echoing upon itself. “And their Judgement is DEATH.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A teenage runaway moves into an abandoned house to escape from her abusive stepfather. You are the ghost that haunts this house." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The girl sobbed quietly in the corner. Even here, in near isolation, she wouldn't let herself lose control.\n\nThe bruises would fade again, her skin already bore the calluses if one knew how to look. But it was her hardening heart that tore at me as I watched again, nearly helpless.\n\n“Why?” she whispered quietly. Over and again, “Why?” Searching for answers we both knew wouldn't come.\n\nThe night grew colder, though it felt warmer in comparison to both of us. More then any other souls in the world we knew what true cold felt like. Her, for her heart was slowing being encased in ice. Me, because my soul weathered the eternal chill of one who was forever lost.\n\nThe girl could have been me, I knew. Me and hundreds, thousands of others - if not more. That she had found her way into this house was almost ironic. As if she knew no-one else would be hurt in this house. I had been the last. I had made sure of that.\n\nWind knocked over a loose board upstairs and the girl didn't even react. She had finally fallen asleep.\n\nAs I gazed closer at her though I notice her lips were changing color. They inched closer to blue. The night seemed to know we were in the house and was upset we had challenged its domain over the temperature. I watched the falling snow turn to falling ice. The tree limbs just outside started to drop as water froze on their limbs.\n\nI lay down next to the girl. She didn't move. She couldn't feel me, though I could sense her. Her fading heat dissipating into the night. Her breath slowed. She longed for peace. I wished she could have it.\n\nBut not this way. Not the way I had chosen.\n\nI had given up. But she hadn't, not yet.\n\nI put my arm around her, holding her close. Her skin prickled in her sleep, for a moment, she grew even colder. But I still remembered. Still remembered the fire I had set. Still remembered the heat lapping at my skin. The pain.\n\nI embraced it once again, my soul screamed in agony, but I could feel the child's breath almost sighing with relief even as I sense the ice around her heart melting. The strong beat kept time for me as the night crept on. Though in agony, I didn't let go.\n\nI kept my eyes on her even as the sun broke through the slated window just above us.\n\nThe girl began to move, and stood up. Releasing her from my grasp tore at me in ways I hadn't imagined. It was like the heat had burnt me away and, as the sun struck, I knew my time here had ended.\n\nI had found my peace. My journey had come full circle. My purpose, if I had one, had been served. Her's hadn't.\n\nAs the sun tore the final vestige of my form away I realized her eyes were staring at me, seeing me. The last one who ever would.\n\nMy final thoughts, my final words to her - my sister in soul if not life - were spoken without sound, but heard all the same.\n\n“It isn't you.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: The knight looked at the dragon in confusion with one question on his mind: \"Why would a multi-ton, fire breathing, armored lizard want to become their squire and learn sword play?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A lone knight in plate armor scarred by countless battles stood atop the cliff, his visor raised, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Before him towered a magnificent dragon, its coal-black scales gleaming in the sun. Even though the dragon dwarfed the knight, its enormous head was bowed in respect.\n\n\"I don't think you understand, beast,\" the knight said warily. \"Squires must obey not only the king's laws but a strict code of honor if they're ever to become full-fledged knights.\"\n\n\"So be it,\" the dragon said. \"I will learn your codes. I will obey.\"\n\n\"You would have to defend the kingdom against invaders,\" the knight said, \"as well as other foul beasts that would threaten the citizens.\"\n\n\"A life without the thrill of battle would be a poor life indeed,\" the dragon replied, sounding pleased.\n\nThe knight shook his head. \"You wouldn't be able to hunt in the king's forests as you did before,\" he said. \"Everything you consume, you would have to pay for.\"\n\nThe dragon gave a rumbling laugh. \"I have hoards of gold that I know many of your kind seek to get their grubby hands on.\"\n\nThe knight tilted his head up to stare the dragon in the eye. \"Your words ring true, yet I do not understand. I know your kind is proud beyond any other. Doesn't it rankle, to have to obey human law?\"\n\nThe dragon grumbled, releasing a puff of smoke. \"Let me tell you a story, human, a story few of my kind remember. Eons past, we lived on a continent that has no name in your tongue and ruled all under the sky. Then a great calamity sundered the earth, releasing flames and smoke that was to ours as a candle is to the sun. The forests and the meadows died, and with it died our prey. Even the most powerful of us aren't immune to hunger.\"\n\nThe knight listened with bated breath, suspecting it to be a story never heard by human ears.\n\n\"And so we perished under the ash-filled skies,\" the dragon continued. \"But some, just a few score, gathered the last of our strength and set out across the endless ocean. For weeks we flew, and many lost strength and were claimed by the waves. But the last dozen reached these lands, and we have lived here since. I was one of them, although I was but a youngster then, flying in the slipstream behind my sire.\"\n\nThe knight swallowed. \"That would make you over a thousand years old.\"\n\n\"Half again that,\" the dragon said with amusement, \"but I did not tell this story to boast. Don't you see? Those who lacked imagination to set off for unknown lands, those who could not adapt to the changing world, they perished. Those who adapted, dared to do something none of our kind had done before, survived.\"\n\n\"And what, pray tell, does that have to do with you seeking squireship under my guidance?\" asked the knight.\n\n\"The world is changing again. Mighty as we are, we fall to your sharp swords and clever tactics one after another. Those that lack imagination will perish.\" The dragon gave him a blood-chilling grin. \"I intend to adapt.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: It's 50 A.D. and the latest invention is being unveiled in a keynote. It's here, the Mirror 1.0" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "This was it. Cassius' time to shine. He looked around the forum. They were all there. The rich bankers, the slithery merchants, the slaves, the actors, the gladiators. This was the time.\n\n\"Ladies and gentlemen! Citizens and freemen! Barbarians and slaves!\" Cassius leapt onto a banker's stall. \"Are you tired of not knowing what you look like? Do you want to see into other rooms from far away? Do you want to look pretty for your man! BEHOLD! The Mirror One Point Zero!\"\n\nCassius pulled up the mirror out of its sack cloth. It burst dazzling into the light. It burnt gold in the harsh Italian sun.\n\n\"Yer wha?\" a voice came out of the crowd. It was a butcher holding his cleaver high in the air, pausing in the butchery of a carcass.\n\n\"A mirror!\"\n\n\"Yeah? And what's so special about it?\"\n\n\"It... it lets you see things. It's reflective.\"\n\n\"Yeah, and I got one of 'em an' all!\" The butcher drove the cleaver down into a goat skull and bustled behind his stall. After a few moments he drew out a small piece of polished brass.\n\n\"Ah, ah,\" Cassius rallied \"But this, ladies and gentleman is made of silver! Reflecting the true colour of-\"\n\n\"No, hold on a moment,\" a refined voice of a senator cut through the mob. \"I have a mirror. Junia, where is that mirror of yours?\"\n\nHis wife, protected in a litter by satin curtains passed out a mirror at least a foot across. It was solid silver and shone like stars.\n\n\"It looks no different from yours,\" the senator glared.\n\n\"But here we reach the trick of it!\" Cassius tapped the mirror. It rang like a bell. \"Glass! By using utterly flat glass we can reduce the need for silver until it is the merest veneer.\"\n\n\"Utterly flat glass? That sounds harder to make than the silver!\" a banker scoffed. \"Silver just comes out of the ground.\"\n\n\"With a fairly modest investment I believe-\" Cassius could feel a pit forming in his stomach.\n\n\"Get out of it! And get off my stall!\" With a lurch Cassius was shoved from his pedestal to the forum below. He clung to his precious mirror, trying to stop it being shattered.\n\n\"But think of all the uses for mirrors! Like... like...\"\n\n\"Like burning roman ships in the harbour of Syracuse? Like feeding the vanity of Caligula?\" the crowd had started to laugh.\n\n\"But you never have to polish a glass mirror!\" The crowd just laughed again and turned away from him. They went back to their work, the hubbub of the city returning to normal.\n\nSomeone hauled Cassius to his feet. Cassius looked into an old face.\n\n\"Listen lad, you're not really selling a new invention,\" the man said patting him down on the shoulder. \"You think you are, but you're not. This is just a modest improvement on what we have already.\"\n\n\"But a silver backed glass mirror-\"\n\n\"I know lad, I know,\" the old man nodded and led Cassius away from the place of his failure. \"But these people, the forum goers, they aren't the folk to market it to. They're businessmen. A mirror ain't gonna give them a lot of business.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"Where are you from lad?\"\n\n\"I'm roman!\" Cassius insisted.\n\n\"I know lad, but where?\"\n\n\"Phoenicia,\" Cassius admitted. \"City of Sidon.\"\n\n\"Right, right lad, what you need to do is write a lot of letters of introduction to the young ladies of the city as a jeweler.\"\n\n\"Where am I going to get-\"\n\n\"Shut up and listen, now you're a jeweler, right? You go there and you sell them pretty necklaces and stupid earrings, right? And when they try them on...?\"\n\n\"I... show them the mirror...\" Cassius nodded beginning to catch on.\n\n\"And it will be such a better quality of image...\"\n\n\"They'll have to buy it!\" Cassius almost clapped for joy, until he remembered his mirror and clasped it tightly. The elation passed almost as soon as it had come. \"But... but I can't afford to buy a lot of jewels. My stock of mirrors and my travel to Rome was more than-\"\n\n\"Well there my lad,\" the old man grinned, revealing a gold tooth. \"You've had a bit of luck.\" The old man pointed to the shop they stood outside. Cassius read the sign. 'Quintus, finest jeweler'.\n\n\"And you're Quintus?\"\n\n\"You're not the most quickwitted lad,\" Quintus put his arm around Cassius and led him into the jeweler's shop. \"But I'll learn ya. I'll learn ya.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: In the far future, humanity finds a message from an ancient alien race, long extinct, about a biological weapon capable of spreading through a galaxy and destroying life in it. The weapon is humanity itself." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fear The Humans\n\nThe stark message was first found carved on a barren asteroid in the Galuda Belt. The scientific community had been sceptical of first of its legitimacy, believing it was an attempt to garner publicity for the failing Fruction Inc who had first discovered the relic. After extensive analysis however, several top researchers of the Qunizax had to admit that the message was either real or an incredibly precise forgery. Why someone would want to forge such a strange message, no one could answer. Any other message would’ve surely been less divisive and more likely to be accepted as authentic.\n\nWhen the message appeared a second time however, this time inside a nebula in Orion’s belt, every expert was left silent. In contrast with the professional world’s hesitance, the world of media picked up on the potential scoop. Pretty soon, all across the transnet, articles were being written of the strange missive. Armchair scientists went on record as to what they thought it meant, trying to get a taste of the newfound spotlight. Conspiracy theories and hints of allegations flew threw the galaxies. Great world leaders gave speeches and leaders of faith gave their interpretations of the blunt message that had been etched by the ancient alien race. The whole universe stopped for a moment, and rethought the word human like never before.\n\nThe message, of course, came again. And then again. And again. Finally it seemed like it had escaped the attention of the universe. Occasionally news of a new one being discovered would attract the public eye again, but the attention quickly passed. Scholars still puzzled over the meaning of the words, trying to figure out why the Qunizax had written them. It even became a classic lesson in philosophy classes, who should fear the humans? But time trod on, as it tends to do, leaving dust and cobweb in its wake.\n\nIn a computer flying through space, there was a laboratory. And inside of the laboratory there was a team of scientists. A group who had recently decided to forsake the usual nature of researching for profit’s sake. Inside of their metal box they flew, studying the three strange words. While they were docked outside of a mom and pop’s fuel station a program beeped and a page was beamed into the hologram room. The lab technician currently watching the output, looked away from the viewport. Her hungry stomach growled, only coffee was currently in it. She looked up at the hovering data. Her eyes narrowed and slid downwards, tracking the green blocky text. When her eyes finished moving, she sat still for a moment. Gears turning within her head. Slowly she stood and started walking out, towards the rest of her colleagues. As she got past the first airlock her walk turned into a jog then a sprint.\n\n“So how accurate is this report?” Asked an immaculate man dressed in starch formal wear.\n\n“It’s as accurate as we can get it,” Another man answered, avoiding eye contact with the first. He didn’t want to deal with the consequences of delivering this news. He had worked hard to become the right hand man of the President Supreme. As much as he trusted his President, he knew that someone had to be the scapegoat for the coming storm.\n\nThe President Supreme tapped the paper report against his chin. Paper such as this was as much a sign of wealth as anything, not just anybody could afford more than a holo projector. He would never be seen holding anything other than the finest paper, cut from the few remaining tree worlds. “And how many people know of what is contained inside of it?” The President queried.\n\n“Not even I do. Just you, the head of the Qunizax Guild, and the group of scientists who discovered it. I made sure to get reliable information, though it’d be best not to enquire too closely how I verified it.” The right hand man’s choice to not look at the info himself was a very thought through choice, he knew what was most likely going to happen next.\n\n“Good, the cleanup should be relatively small then. You know what happens next. We can’t risk even the smallest chance of this getting out.\n\n“Yes sir.”\n\nAs his loyal servant left the meeting room, the President considered the future. It was certain that this new data could not be leaked, could not disperse. If it did, well than humanity itself would be forced to stop spreading. And that, for certain, would be bad for business." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: A stranger decked out in full combat gears approaches you one day, asking if you need any help. You ask him why he asked you, and he replies that it was the last side-quest he forgot to do" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I paused for a moment before responding. This was a strange encounter, perhaps the strangest I’d ever had, but I couldn’t turn down a chance to finally be done with all of this. His timing couldn’t have been better - I was beginning to think I’d die searching for her. Perhaps I picked the right night to drink away my problems in the tavern.\n\nI chose my words carefully. Afterall, this guy looked like he could kill every soul in the room with his bare hands. \"Ah... well, ok. I don't know what that means exactly, but I could definitely use some assistance. This is something I've been working on for quite some time, so if you're up to the task, I'd really appreciate your help. I would… make it worth your time and effort.”\n\n“Ok, cut to the chase old man, what do you need me to do?” The mysterious stranger spat back, almost as if he didn’t listen to a single word I’d just said. Taken aback, but still anxious for help, I began to explain my predicament.\n\n“Years ago my wife, Abigail, disappeared. It made no sense! We had such a happy marriage! She left behind not only me, but our three sons, our dog, and our beautiful farm. I knew there was no way she would’ve left us - oh no, she was kidnapped. And I had my suspicions on who did it too… it was that damned elf, Glyn -”\n\nThe stranger cut me off before I could even finish saying his name.\n\n“Oh, Glyndan! Yeah, yeah - I know all about him. Kidnapping wives in the dead of night, leaving behind a series of creepy notes, challenging you to puzzles that your simple mind couldn’t possibly decipher. Yada, yada, yada. Look, dude, I’ll make this easy for you. And me!” the mysterious man chuckled. “Hand me over whatever clues you have from the little dude, and I’ll bring back Annabelle to you safe and sound before you finish your mead.”\n\n“Abigail…” I said, trailing off. The thought of passing along my years’ worth of notes, maps, and resources did not sit well with me - but to have my sweet Abigail back, I’d do anything. I fumbled quickly and anxiously through my rucksack, making sure to give every last scribble of evidence to this mystery man. “Please, bring her back to me. I am putting her life in your hands.”\n\nBefore I even finished my sentence, the man was halfway out the door, my belongings shoved viciously into his pack, without receiving so much as a glance from him. For a man with such precious time, I couldn’t believe he’d even made his way to our remote little pub. His rudeness made me want to turn him down, but I knew there was no way I’d ever find her on my own. I’d only been kidding myself. I longed more than anything to see her beautiful face again, and I know our boys have missed their mother something awful. If this man was truly what he appeared to be, I think it may have been my last chance. And with that, I decided to turn in for the night. All the problems of the world would be waiting for me when I awoke, but for the first night in a long time, I fell asleep with a new prospect in my head - hope.\n\nWhen I awoke the next day, I eagerly headed back to the pub. I doubted I’d see the man ever again, let alone so soon, but my hopeful heart couldn’t bear to miss him. As I meandered down the cobblestone path back to Dudley’s, though, I heard footsteps behind me. Running. They got closer and closer, and when I turned around, the stranger was right upon me. I couldn’t believe my eyes.\n\n“So I got your wife back. She’s somewhere back there…” He said, motioning into the woods behind him. “Yeah, she was walking kinda slow so I just told her where I was headed and that you guys could meet up later. Do you, wanna, like, pay me or whatever so I can finally be done?”\n\nI stood, speechless. This was, no doubt, the strangest man I’d ever met. But, truly, if Abigail was behind him, then he might have been the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I reached for my coinbag, when I heard rustling in the bushes behind the stranger. My dog, Sasha, began to bark and run towards it. Abigail. I threw the coins at the man, for I had no time to waste. “Thank you! Thank you! I will never be able to repay you!” I yelled. I closed my eyes, preparing myself for Abigail’s warm embrace. It was really her. I held her tightly, for what seemed like an eternity.\n\nIf only those few seconds could’ve lasted forever. Our reunion was interrupted by the most maniacal laughter I’d ever heard in all my days. I pulled away from the love of my life to examine the commotion. The stranger, having just picked up the last of my coins from the ground, now stood before me, with an arrow pointed directly at my wife’s head. Before I could even let out a scream, her body toppled to the ground before me. I dropped, too.\n\nThere were many things about this world that I did not understand, but what had just happened took the cake. As I cried hysterically over my wife’s dead body, the stranger approached me with a sad grin on his face. He bent down on one knee, and put his hand on my shoulder.\n\n“Why would you do this?” I said through tears and clenched teeth. I had no weapons to fight back, and even if I could, I knew I’d be no match for him. He knew that, too.\n\n“If it makes you feel any better, I’m going to kill you, too. Then I’m going to kill everyone else. It’s nothing personal. I just ran out of stuff to do.” He said, standing up and dusting himself off.\n\nSasha, now whimpering at my side, looked at me wide eyed. I scooped her up and held her tight. I closed my eyes, and waited. I couldn’t live in this world any longer, anyway. Didn’t want to - not without her. I was ready to go.\n\nThen, I heard those same footsteps running. Back into the woods, and out of sight.\n\nedit : some small grammar stuff, in case anyone actually reads this." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: After hundreds of years colonizing the stars, and still no sign of intelligent extraterrestrial life, Humanity finally has an answer to the Fermi paradox." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Aliz was selected to be the one to throw the switch. Humanity reached for the stars. The rules of the universe just didn’t allow it to be done easily. Humanity colonised the solar system and filled it to breaking point. They pulled in extra exo planets. They build worlds designed to spent thousands of years traveling between the stars. Humanity spread out. The human lifespan was extended towards infinity, though most didn’t chose to live that long.\n\nHumanity pushed physics to the very limits of what it would allow, creating a single ship that could warp around the universe at unheard of speeds: it moved the universe around it, while it stood still. Using this Humanity explored the Galaxy. They found nothing. The mere existence of the ship proved a long held idea; the universe was not full of life.\n\nHumanity was ancient. Their universe traversing ship had expanded in size as it did more and more work. Since it acted like a single station while everything moved around the ship, it took the same amount of energy. The ship had the population of a planet, and was older than most of the humans now on board it. If it ever had a name it was lost to time.\n\nHumanity drifted into separate species; they did not always get on. There were wars, and empires. Cataclysms and renaissances. Holy leaders and scientific councils. Billions devoted to every god conceivable. Humanity spent a billion years expanding to every corner of the galaxy, at sub light speeds.\n\nThe Earth was destroyed by the Sun expanding. Humans had long since abandoned their childhood home and few noticed. Many were noticing the increasing silence. The universe, in its later years, was still, silent. The universe was just too big and unfriendly to allow for easy travel around it. A few planets were found with ruins billions of years old, showing life did exist other than on Earth. The laws of physics made it too difficult for most species to even leave their gravity well. Cosmology made it so while lifes building blocks are everywhere, most of it is too deadly for anything to happen. Any for those who did survive to the point they have the technology to maker it, the madness of being stuck on a single rock floating on a void drives many to destruction.\n\nThe ship left the galaxy, and began exploring others. It searched countless galaxies, and met no one. Once it picked up a signal, but by the time it got to the source the species had been dead for millions of years. They had been asking for help, in the darkness. There were no other signs of life.\n\nThe universe got old. Stars began to die in the night sky. An idea was debated in the patricians parliament within the ship. A machine was created to only be used once every single human, no matter how remote had a say. The vote would take a half a billion years, but at this point humans had stopped having children. Many of the humans wouldn't even be recognisable as human to the people who stepped off that first world.\n\nAliz stood at the machine. The vote was in. The machine was the gift from humanity to the dying universe. Every human celebrated what has been a good existence. For all their suffering, for all their flaws, for everything they ever did wrong; didn't matter. They had done this, and it was good.\n\nHe placed the box where you found this story, to be stored in deep memory and distributed after; Aliz climed inside. By virtue of you finding the story, this is what happened next, though it had to be written before events were put in motion.\n\nThe machine became the center of a singularity. Within a picosecond the ship was engulfed by it, using the extra mass, it does something very unusual. It begins to suck in every part of the universe. Every part of the universe at the same time begins moving in a dimension perpendicular to the others; at first the effect is like time slowing down. Then the universe is in every direction moving away from everything else. Every molecule is pulled apart, every atom taken down to its base components.\n\nThe universe is taken apart of a base level until all that is left is the box, the machine. Aliz touches a button. The machine takes all of time and no time to change. The machine has a new set of laws of the universe in its code It had a new set of rules. New building blocks. This time faster than light travel will be simple. This time the universe will be less harsh to new life. This time the universe would be full of life. The machine tears itself and everything inside it to cause a new universe to form. The memories of the device being distributed to somewhere, everywhere, somehow.\n\nWe give you this, a gift from a species that found out all there was to know; and found no one to tell it to. A species who went mad with loneliness. A species who, truly really does love you, and believe me when I say this. You are all human. You are all our children.\n\nSigned faithfully\n\nAliz. The last human." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: When born, everyone is assigned a personal guardian angel. However, due to a clerical error, your assigned guardian angel is none other than the fallen angel Lucifer Morningstar, also known as the Devil." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The car had just barely warmed up.\n\nI reached over to the center console and blasted the heat, pointed the vents toward my hands and my face, and hit the gas, in hopes of getting the car's engine warmer, faster.\n\n\"That was the new one from Maddie and Tae,\" the radio DJ said, barely audible over the blasting heater. \"Thanks for sticking with us on this chilly night. It's currently 9 degrees below zero, I hope y'all are inside somewhere warm!\"\n\nNo such luck, I thought. At least the roads aren't snowy. Desolate, dark, abandoned; but not snowy. I was looking forward to getting off the little two-lane highway and onto the freeway, but it would be a while before that happened. Maybe I should have stayed with my parents and had Yvonne feed the dog and the cat.\n\nThe highway turned, a tight little curve following the mountain's edge.\n\nMy car, on the other hand, kept going straight.\n\nI turned the wheel. The tires seemed to glide effortlessly, and had no effect on how the car moved. Black ice?\n\nGuardrail.\n\nShit!\n\nI hit the thing head on.\n\nI felt my back wheels lift off the ground. I was going over.\n\nThere was smoke. Airbag? Fire?\n\nMy car landed upside down on something soft, way too soon. The cliff face was steep, and the bottom was a long way down.\n\nSlowly, my car seemed to right itself. It came to rest back on its tires, flat on the ground.\n\nThe passenger side door opened.\n\n\"Hey!\" I grabbed the closest thing I could reach, a pen, and held it tightly, pointing it at whatever was going to get in. My hands were shaking like crazy. My eyeballs felt like they were going to burst out of my face. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.\n\n\"Hey, don't worry. Are you okay? I saw you hit the guardrail.\" It was a man. He was about my age, dressed in black and red, and devastatingly handsome.\n\n\"Possibly...?\"\n\n\"You're probably hurt, you just don't feel it because of the adrenaline. Your car is totaled. I'll call 911.\"\n\nHe punched the numbers into his brand new smartphone and made the call. As he talked to the operator, he gently pried the pen out of my hand. His hand was so warm and so soft.\n\nI noticed that he gave his name as \"Nick Morningstar.\" He seemed to know exactly where we were, which was good. He described the accident as me hitting the guardrail and nearly flipping.\n\nHe calmly hung up the phone.\n\n\"What just happened?\" I tried to look in my rearview mirror, but it had been knocked off by the backpack I had in the front seat.\n\n\"You crashed your car, obviously.\" He flashed me a million watt smile. It was beautiful.\n\n\"No, after that. Why didn't I go down the mountain?\"\n\n\"I couldn't let you do that.\" He took both of my hands in his own. I felt warmth, not just in my hands, but all over.\n\n\"Who are you? I know your name, but who are you?\" I looked into his eyes, dark and inscrutable in the low light.\n\nAnother smile. As improbable and embarrassing as it was, I was getting a little turned on.\n\n\"I'm your guardian angel, baby. You're my only charge, so I want to do right by you. I have quite a few names... Lucifer Morningstar, Old Scratch, Old Nick, Beelzebub...\"\n\nMy face fell with every name.\n\n\"Yeah. I'm that guy.\" He reached up and gently cradled my cheek. \"Everyone's gotta have a day job.\"\n\nSuddenly, the unexplained events in my life started making sense; the stray black kitten who made me miss a flight that would later crash, the giant black dog who showed up one day and decided that he lived with me and needed walks during my lowest depressive period, the toy bats and snakes and the heavy metal albums that showed up in my room without explanation, the time I fell asleep at my desk writing my term paper and woke up with the paper submitted.\n\n\"It's...wow, all along... I've seen your work...thank you!\" I squeezed his hand. I wanted, more than anything, to throw my arms around him, but the adrenaline was wearing off and the pain was setting in.\n\nSoon, the cavalry arrived. Nick all but disappeared, never making himself visible to the first responders. I was pulled from the car on a backboard and strapped down to a stretcher.\n\nNick appeared beside me again, a mischievous smile on his face. The irises of his eyes were a deep red.\n\nHe took my hand. \"You'll be alright. See you in Hell.\"\n\nI opened my mouth to speak. He leaned forward and gave me a soft, yet passionate kiss. In that moment, had I not been strapped down, I would have left everything and walked to Hell to be with him for one more minute. That's how he gets you, I thought.\n\nHe spoke again. \"Just don't come down too soon, okay? Sassy Kitty and Tank need you. You only have one shot to be mortal. There's so, so much pleasure and fun and sensuality, so much music and art and food, so much dancing, so many video games, so much trouble to cause...\"\n\nI was so focused on his voice that I didn't notice the paramedics moving me into the ambulance.\n\n\"...so much debauchery, so much knowledge...take in as much of it as you can.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: That magic wand you found is a LOT trickier to use than you expected..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was one rule that had been pounded into Jack's head when he had been training to raid dungeons and kill dragons, \"If something is locked in a chest, you fucking take it.\"\n\nThere was a simple reason for this, if you found something in a chest, it meant that someone had locked it in there, and THAT meant that they wanted to keep it, or at least have it stay where it was. Typically that meant it was valuable or powerful though those weren't mutually exclusive.\n\nThat being said, Jack was staring at a stick in the bottom of the most elaborate chest he had ever seen. The thing had been in the bottom of a tomb written for some Albus fellow. Jack didn't know the history and frankly didn't care to figure it out, instead he was stuck looking at a stick in the bottom of the chest.\n\nAgainst his better judgment, he listened to his schooling and grabbed it, tossing it into the separate dimension in his pack without a care. Making his way back to town with the meager coin that he had found in the tomb. He was going to have enough to fund the next adventure, but not enough to buy anything new. Hard knock life working alone.\n\nIn the town, there was a small festival going on, which meant that Jack kept his hands in his pockets as he moved around the squares, trying to find his way to the nearest curiosities shop within the walls of the city. Curiosities generally meant ‘things people stole and sold for cash’ which made them the best target for Jack, but sometimes he knew what he was dealing with and could sell it for the proper value, this was not the case with a stick.\n\nHe found the front of the shop, a rickety door down three alleyways and a dark staircase. Typical place for a curiosities shop, you ended up in the ass end of town, and not the fun kind of ass end of town. Inside was a similar story, a dark, cellar-like room that seemed to stretch for miles, marked with knicks and knacks that seemed to have lives of their own. Jack wasn’t sure how a shop with so large a stock could maintain a profit, but then he noticed the Goldmark plate carelessly tossed into a corner, it was obvious that this man was a bigshot buyer in the curiosities world, probably used to working with bigger raiders than Jack.\n\nThe woman at the counter was mostly covered in a royal blue robe, curly hard dropping down to her shoulders and framing her hawk-like nose in brunette. Past that, he couldn’t see much about her, the remainder of her face covered by a large pair of glasses blocked by black goggles. She stopped working on a small device and turned to face Jack, seemingly having heard him on the way in, “Can I help you?” She asked, voice younger than her face.\n\n“Just in town and looking to move some stuff,” Jack reached into his pack, willing for a totem that he had found in the tomb, he pulled it out and placed it on the counter.\n\n“It’s not polite to bring enchanted items into a shop without asking,” the woman said while pouring over the totem, “put the bag on the floor,” she took one hand to point to his bag, Jack sighed and put it down onto the floor. It wasn’t a security risk for him if anyone other than him asked for something it wouldn’t deliver, “I can do 300 for this.”\n\nJack raised an eyebrow, looking over the woman, it was a high number, but he knew better than to be excited about it, “Can we talk about that number once we have everything out? I have a quota to reach.” She nodded, and the parade of trinkets out of his bag continued.\n\nShe was overpaying for everything, she either had no sense for business, or too much respect for dead people, because she was willing to shell out 20-30 gold more than anyone else would have for everything, and Jack had taken the time to figure out that these totems were enchanted, just fancy gold. Perhaps she had an interest in the man behind the tomb, in which case…\n\nJack pulled out the stick, looking it over and she started to count the cash to give him, “Hey, this is the last thing I found in the -“ Jack was cut off by a loud crack as the stick flashed, a bright light erupting from one end and tearing through the shop, sending trinkets, knicks and knacks careening into the distance and raining metal over festival goers.\n\nThe woman turned around, slowly at first, her glare building up behind the goggles, she took the time to say each word, “What, did you just do?”\n\n“I didn’t do anything!” Jack said, waving the stick around, “I was just talking and next thing I know half the -“\n\nThe stick fired again, this time sending, knicks, knacks, trinkets and one very pissed hawk-nosed woman off into the horizon. The end of the sentence had been “store was gone.” Which was now a pretty accurate statement on its own." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Inexplicably, everyone is suddenly afflicted with a condition that makes them vomit a whole liter of blood every time they knowingly speak or write a lie. It's now obvious to everyone when anyone is untruthful, and deadly if someone lies a few times in a row." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The rain was falling. I pressed my bag closer to my chest, fastening my steps on the sidewalk. The sun was just going down, slowly fading behind the hill right next to the small town I lived in. While I was walking I fiddled with my keys in the pocket of my jacket - I already had them ready as I would be home in no time.\n\nAfter a few minutes I made a turn to the right. You could make out the reflection of the traffic lights on the wet street as I turned around the corner. Swiftly, I pulled my keys out of my pocket and unlocked the door of the second house of the street. It was a lovely house, really. A nice garden graced the backside of it. Having already seen it so many times, I quickly unlocked the door and stepped in.\n\n\"Welcome home honey!\". The voice of my fiance rang in my ears. After I took of my drenched coat, I stepped into the kitchen, where I saw my significant other standing and smiling at me.\n\n\"Hey Adam\", I mumbled and pulled him into a short embrace.\n\nAfter I pulled back, he looked at me with his eyebrows drawn together. He looked worried.\n\n\"What's wrong? Did something happen at work?\".\n\nIf you heard him, you could hear the slight wavering in his voice. Like he really was worried.\n\nI forced a smile and answered,\" Just a tough day. Carol complained all day about how awful her new hairdresser is and Logan didn't bring his part of the project so I could work my ass of to catch up till noon. You know how it is.\"\n\nHe knew to not ask any more questions and turned around after pecking me on the lips.\n\n\" Don't worry, tomorrow is Sunday so you'll get to relax. \"\n\nI sighed,\" yeah. Don't bother heating up some spaghetti, I'll just go to bed okay? \"\n\nAfter Adam gave me a smile and a nod, I made my way upstairs. I changed my clothes and sat on the bed. Memories flooded through my head, the day I met Adam, our first date, the day he proposed to me. I'll never forget the smile he had on his face, ring in his left hand, down on one knee in the restaurant we met each other for the first time. I smiled fondly at the memory before my expression turned dark again.\n\nWithout hesitation I stood up and made my way to my bedroom drawer. Letting my hand rest on the handle for a moment, I pulled the drawer open. The screen of my knife reflected the light of the lamp on the ceiling. I took it and went back to the bed. And I stared. Stared at the blade.\n\nI heard the door open. Adam stood in the doorframe.\n\n\"what are you doing?\".\n\nHis voice sounded different. The warm undertone from when we first met was long gone. I didn't realize it at first, but as the weeks progressed it became more clear.He never said it. Not even when he proposed. No matter how often I told him, he never said it back.\n\nI took a deep breath.\n\n\"Do you love me?\"\n\nThe whole room is filled with silence. You could hear a hair pin falling.\n\nI stood up and faced him, knife still in my hand.\n\n\"Do you love me?\", my voice started to waver.\n\n\"Laura, you know tha-\"\n\n\"I asked you a question\".\n\nI could see it in his eyes. I already knew the answer, I have known it for a while. I never understood the saying 'the eyes are the windows to the soul', but now I get it.\n\n\"Laura please-\"\n\n\"Say it. I want you to say it\".\n\nHe looked down,before he looked me straight in my eyes again. He knew that I knew. He glanced at the knife in my hand. And I stood still, waiting.\n\nHe took a step towards me and locked eyes with Me. I could hear him take a deep breath.\n\n.\n\n.\n\n\"I love you\".\n\nAnd suddenly, our bedroom was drenched in blood." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A couple overhears a murder while preparing dinner..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jay and Steph, known as Jason and Stephanie at classy affairs, were working in unison in the squat kitchen. It was light work, and it should be easy in the music of their shared stereo. But, they could barely hear the songs, because of the neighbours. Still, they shared cooking duties, as they shared most everything with one another. Including a smile, when they bumped hips moving about the kitchen recess.\n\nThe kitchen was small, first-time-home-owner with basically no assets small, as was the front room and bedroom and bathroom. Their duplex was side-by-side, identical in architecture to its other half. But Jay&S’s side was a happy home, the better half, while the Burkley’s side was a harbour of despair, frustration, arguments and bad neighbourship.\n\nScrunching his brow in that way Steph liked, Jay said, “Stephy they are still - going at it.” He drew the words out, like it was a dirty act, a sexy dirty act, when really it was slammed doors and shouting at someone who is trying to shout back over you.\n\nSteph shrugged and kept chopping veggies. She knew she shouldn’t encourage his eavesdropping. The two of them were no better if they listened in, but in the end Jay drew her along with him, as he had since they’d fallen in love.\n\n“Sheesh, you think they’d lose weight, expelling this much angry energy,” she mentioned.\n\nJay grinned. He said, “If I know anything, it is that, around the time our fantasti-ghetti is ready, Bobby is going to be two pints in at the bar.” They laughed at that.\n\nJay had to swallow a portion of cheerfulness. Sitting over their shared dinner they still heard the screaming. It wasn’t clear what was being said, just that the words were being shouted with so much acrimony that it was contaminating their night. It was bad tasting.\n\n“Hey, I can turn on the t.v. and drown this out, hey?” Jay asked Steph.\n\n“No, its fine” she sighed, “it’ll just make them - .”\n\n“COME AT ME WITH A KNIFE. YOU DUMBASS?” Debra from next door must have been next to the front window, because her noise came through clear.\n\n“I’ll STAB YOU. BEFORE YOU BASH ME. DON’T BREAK MY LAMP!” Bobby was there too, busting ear drums and threatening his wife.\n\nAt least neither Jay nor Steph’s name had been mentioned, that they could tell. A heart stopping shriek interrupted even that screaming between the should've-been-divorced-asshole-neighbours. The shouting match had reached its climax, and the young couple both knew someone had just done something terrible next door.\n\n“Jay, is our front door locked?” Steph asked.\n\nJason, serious now, jumped up and went to the front door. First he peered out, saw nothing out of the ordinary out front, then locked the door and closed the curtains.\n\n“Stephanie, should we call the cops?” Jay wanted her permission.\n\n“We don’t really know what happened….”\n\n“Steph, seriously?! Either one got stabbed in the heart or head bashed in, holy shit!” Jay was getting panicky.\n\n“Shh, shh!” Steph shushed as seriously as she could.\n\nNothing happened, for an extremely long 5 seconds.\n\nThey distinctly heard a loud thump, as if a dead body had just been picked up and dropped.\n\nThey peered into each other’s eyes, as intensely as they ever had, and in unison said: “Cops!”\n\nJay scrambled and got to the phone first and dialed 911." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: In the galaxy, magic is the pinnacle of technology. Humans have just achieved the pinnacle of technology which isn't magic." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Major Jayce Andrews, Terran Space Marine Corps., stood at one end of the atrium, and looked across the many species of aliens lining either side. At the far side, Boran, a poly-pedal Gumbit with both an endo/exo hybrid skeleton, stood holding a silver rod.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Major Andrews addressed the crowd, and waited for the various translator services to catch up. \"Today, I am representing Terrans in the matter of technological advancement and scientific truth. Your many races have a common term for the pinnacle of these developments, which, in our language, translates as magic. As we've grown to know each other over these last ten years, we've come to understand this is a literal translation.\" He spread his hands apart and turned his palms to face out. \"And, I admit, we hardly understand the most basic premises of how it works. We have admitted, then, that we were in no way prepared to participate in this exhibition. Instead, we were invited here to present the pinnacle of our technology in comparison with yours.\"\n\nHe paused for translation. So far, no surprises. The expectation was brutal in its simplicity. Given a known set of situations, whose magic would prove to be the best. And, here he stood, for the first time, to represent the pinnacle of human technology against the alien magic. And, unexpectedly for such advanced species, or maybe simple cultural differences, every situation, no matter how mundane, somehow turned into a fight to the death.\n\nWhich pretty much means I'm going to die no matter what, he thought.\n\n\"Anyway,\" he addressed the crowed again. \"I just wanted to mention that before we started so you understand that we are not a magic-bearing species, and will not be using any magic here today.\"\n\n\"Thank you for your explanation,\" the moderator said. \"And now, on the signal of Vlarn, Boran of the Gumbit, and Major Andrews of the Terrans, will compare their magic to determine,\" he paused to consult a small device. \"Whose magic is better suited for a duel? Are our exhibitors ready? Are you set? Vlarn!\"\n\nMajor Andrews pulled his quantum phase pistol and fired a beam that simultaneously materialized inside Boran. At the far end of the room, Boran exploded into a plume of mucus, green, and carapace. he holstered his pistol.\n\nA hush fell over the crowd.\n\n\"Well,\" the moderator said. \"Well that was quick. Ok, let's move on to the next exhibit. Zurk of the Druk race will compare magic strategy for a simple negotiation. Each will be given a token, and the objective of this exhibit is to convince the other to give up their token. Any means are allowed. Three, two, one, Vlarn!\"\n\nAfter Zurk's remains fluttered to the ground, Major Andrews walked across the atrium, picked up the token, and handed it to the moderator.\n\n\"You know,\" the moderator whispered, \"You might also try another spell?\"\n\n\"Sure,\" Major Andrews said. He strapped down his pistol and slipped a quantum-tag mit on his left hand.\n\n\"In our third exhibition, we will explore a love spell. Major Andrews of the Terrans, will compare strategies with Ajiou of the Mernunun. The romantic target of this exhibit will be Lepia, of the Reptilians. Only the strongest magic will compel a marriage proposal from a Reptilian.\" The audience laughed at that. \"Ready? Vlarn!\"\n\nMajor Andrews paused, access his cultural database, and looked up Reptilian courting rituals. Knowing he lost a lot of time in research, he risked Aijou being afforded enough time to complete a spell. So far, Aijou was mid-arm swing, with all four harms swooping in concentric circle patterns. He raised his left hand, and punched across the room, owing to the qualities of the quantum mit, through Aijou's chest and wrenched free its heart. Then, he walked slowly across the room and offered it to Lepia.\n\n\"I ,\" Lepia began as a hiss, and then accepted the heart. \"I accept.\"\n\nNow the audience appeared to grow incensed. \"This is not magic,\" one shouted. \"It is just - just killing. There is no artistry, no orthodoxy, no finite truth of the cosmos.\"\n\nMajor Andrews stripped off the glove, picked up the quantum tank-buster, and hoisted it over his left shoulder. He asked the crowd, \"And here I thought this was about the pinnacle of science. Anyway, who's next?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Make up the story and lore of a new religion." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It began with the High God Zyrion. And it was only Zyrion for many days and many nights. Soon he began to bore of the vast nothingness that was existance, so he created the seas and oceans, and populated it with fish. And for many days and many nights, this entertained Zyrion, watching them live their short interactions with existance.\n\nSoon he longed for better entertainment, so he created the earth, and populated it with trees and foliage. And this, too, entertained Zyrion for many days and many nights. The fish continued to live their short lifespans swimming around aimlessly, and the trees lived their much longer lifespan growing and reaching out.\n\nSoon, Zyrion began to notice that the trees were beginning to grow too close to one another. There was not enough space for all the trees, and they would begin to strangle one another, so Zyrion created the animals. He created some animals to eat the trees and he created some animals to keep the other animals in check. And this, too, entertained Zyrion for many days and many nights. Zyrion watched as the fish lived their short lifespan, the plants lived their long lifespan, and the animals kept everything from becoming overpopulated.\n\nSoon, though, Zyrion began to notice that the predators of the world were beginning to rebel. They wanted to know who the best predator was, so Zyrion created man, the ultimate predator. Zyrion gave man the ability to learn, and make connections, and communicate, so they could even hunt the predators. And this entertained Zyrion for many days and many nights. Zyrion watched as man hunted every animal he could see, and cut down trees that had grown arbitrarily too large.\n\nSoon, Zyrion noticed a problem, with man. He had no regard for other life. Man would build huts on the land made for the animals he hunted, and destroy the trees without need. So Zyrion gave man a conscience, so that man could understand what he was doing was wrong.\n\nAnd man realized the crimes against nature he had committed, and quickly began to ask Zyrion forgiveness. Zyrion noticed that man had asked forgiveness of Zyrion for all his wrongs against other life, so Zyrion created the Lesser Gods. For each of his creations, Zyrion made another god, to whom man could ask forgiveness.\n\nAion was the god of air, whom man polluted with the smoke from his fire\n\nWaeron was the god of water, whom man had begun to pollute with his trash\n\nArgra was the goddess of the earth, whom man had destroyed to make pathways\n\nFeena was the goddess of the fish, whom man had almost hunted to extinction\n\nLycanthia was the goddess of the animals, whom man had almost starved by destroying their ecosystem.\n\nArbon was the god of plants and trees, whom man had destroyed mercilessly\n\nand Anthaeron was the god of man himself, so man could repent for turning against each other.\n\nAlong with the lesser gods, Zyrion created two major gods, to rule the others and maintain order:\n\nAthonetta was the goddess of Life, she who counseled the others on what was alive, and Detron the god of Death, he who counseled the others on what was dead, and ruler of the afterlife.\n\nAnd Zyrion was done. At last, the world he had made began to take shape and run itself autonomously, and Zyrion was satisfied with the work he had done and all he had accomplished. He began to tire and soon went to sleep deep within the earth he had made, leaving his gods to run the world without him." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You push A4 on the vending machine. It takes your money but nothing happens. In a fit you start to angrily push buttons when it suddenly starts flashing lights and descends into the floor, revealing a secret passage." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was another typical day at work. Long, boring shifts punctuated by brief breaks and socialization. Nothing terribly out of the ordinary. But what happened last month changed everything.\n\nIt all started at lunch, when I went to grab my favorite type of potato chips out of the vending machine. Normally the barbecue Lays chips are located at B6, but today I noticed they were in A4 instead.\n\n\"Huh,\" I thought to myself. \"Maybe they changed the layout of the machine.\" Such a layout change wasn't unheard of; it had happened a few times before. But when I pressed the button and put my 50 cents in... nothing happened.\n\nI tried again, putting another 50 cents in. Still, nothing. At this point, I had wasted a whole dollar on a broken vending machine.\n\nNow, I have a short temper, and I like to do... irrational things when stuff is broken. Here, I randomly pressed a bunch of buttons on the keypad, knowing full well nothing was gonna happen. Except, something did happen. The vending machine fell away, revealing a long, narrow corridor that seemingly had no end in sight.\n\nI looked at the clock. There were still 25 minutes until we had to be back in our cubicles doing work stuff. Surely this wouldn't take too long, right?\n\nI hadn't taken two steps before the vending machine shot up behind me, blocking my exit.\n\n\"What did I just do?\" I said aloud to myself. But I had no choice but to keep walking, as I did not want to have my death certificate to read \"crushed by vending machine\".\n\nI walked for what seemed like hours. The corridor stretched on and on, with no end in sight. By this point I was very, very late to my shift, but who cares? Nobody's gonna find me behind a vending machine anyway.\n\nFinally, I came across an iron door, which read: \"AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY\". Normally I wouldn't enter such a door, but I was a solid thirty minutes' walk from a vending machine that blocked my exit, so I had no choice. Surprisingly, the door opened without an issue.\n\nBehind the door was a massive cavern with a huge generator inside, with wires going out from it into the walls. Dozens of men and women were working on it, but it seemed to be close to completion.\n\nRounding the cavern was a huge balcony that I had just walked onto, with what looked like small homes inside the walls. Nearby was a small office with a man sitting inside of it. Upon seeing me, he beckoned me over.\n\n\"So I see you've found my secret base, if you will,\" he says. \"It's not easy. Pushing A4 twice, waiting exactly three seconds, and then pushing 15 buttons on the keypad in a second is not easy to do. But you've done it.\"\n\n\"What even is this place?\" I asked.\n\n\"This?\" he said, gesturing to the cavern. \"You see, I've found a trace element deep in the earth's crust that has the potential to power the entire world with clean energy for years with just a few kilos of it. It took a solid decade of drilling, then another five years of construction, but in just a few months, nobody will have to worry about their gas bills anymore.\"\n\n\"That's insane!\" I exclaimed. \"But why keep it a secret?\"\n\n\"It's simple,\" he said \"It's clear that once I said anything about this, the government would just subsidize the project and make it disappear into the recesses of Area 51. Maybe use it in the future for some military campaign. Either way, we would've gotten zero credit for it. But now, it's too late. This generator is too far along.\"\n\n\"This just seems like a scheme to take power,\" I pointed out.\n\n\"In a way, you're correct. Everyone's going to be reliant on me to power their homes and the like,\" he says. \"But that's unavoidable, isn't it? It's incredibly flawed to be reliant on one source of energy.\"\n\n\"How can I be certain that you won't capitalize this and create a global dictatorship?\" I asked.\n\n\"Again, it's simple,\" he grinned. \"You can't.\" He turned around. \"Guards, put him in the brig.\"\n\nI kicked, screamed, and fought, but I still landed in a \"jail\" cell. For now, I was locked up.\n\nBut one thing was clear. Near-infinite clean energy sounded awesome. But for heaven's sake, this man could not be allowed to spearhead it." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You're the typical hard-boiled detective, a private dick, a standard trenchcoat-wearing fedora-wearing gum-shoe - or, at least you would be, if you weren't also a wizard." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I sat in my dingy little office, some nameless cheap bourbon sitting next to where I had my feet up on my desk. The light coming through the grimy window was fading. It was getting late. I was considering grabbing my traditional brown long coat and black fedorah off the rack and heading out for some food. Probably takeout, Han owed me a favor or two still and would probably trade me some beef and noodles for a few tales of some of my exploits. They might not be the complete truth, and Han knew it, but he said he liked the way I told em', and I wasn't one to turn down a free feed.\n\nAs I drained the rocks glass I was measuring out my booze in, I made up my mind and sat up, just as someone knocked on my door. I muttered and hoped it wasn't the landlord.\n\n\"It's open!\" I called, leaning back and putting the bourbon in a drawer of my desk. The door opened and revealed a truly stunning woman. Just like all the TV shows and books I read as a kid that made me want to be a P.I. She was tall, willowy, graceful despite the sky-high leather pumps she was wearing. Her clothes were business style, but expensively tailored. I was pretty sure her white blouse was silk, and it hugged her torso only a little less than the twill skirt hugged her legs. The whisper as her legs rubbed while she walked said her stockings were real silks stockings and not nylon pantyhose. I was immediately suspicious. Either someone was playing a joke on me, or this woman was not what she seemed. I quietly palmed something else on my desk and watched her carefully as she sat on the edge of the leather chair across from my desk.\n\n\"I'm told you can help me.\" her voice was steady, even. Whoever sent her was smarter than to have her try the sobbing damsel-in-distress routine. Her voice also held an odd note. Not really an accent, but her pronunciation was....clipped. precise. Professor Henry Higgins would find nothing wrong with her speech. My suspicions peaked, and I fixed a hard stare on her eyes for a few moments.\n\n\"That depends, miss....?\" She let the silence lengthen, and that almost clinched it. Now to make sure.\n\n\"I do have some experience with helping people, but I'm no bleeding heart. My services ain't cheap.\" As I spoke, I casually lifted my hand with what looked like a cigarette lighter in my hand. I even put a smoke to my lips, and then I flicked the striker. Flame shot up, but it also caused a hidden catch to strike the small iron bell concealed within the body. The tiny chime echoed out the hollow bottom of the cyllinder, and the woman flinched and....rippled. I took a drag from the cigarette and raised an eyebrow as I continued.\n\n\"Especially not for Faeries. In fact I usually don't work with you people. Too hard to stick you to a straight bargain. Try old Harsdale down on 22nd street. He's your people's go-to isn't he?\"\n\nThe elf across from me looked rather annoyed, whether at my trick or at being found out it was hard to say. The Fae really don't like anything iron, and the sound of an iron bell is enough to send most of them into fits. Really it was only because the sound was so soft and muffled by the walls of the lighter that she could stand it at all.\n\n\"Seamus Harsdale is dead,\" she dropped all pretense, the full aristocratic, cold manner of her kind settling over her. I winced. I'd thought he was a fool, but I'd liked Seamus. He was a good man. \"He was our first trial, and while familiar with our kind, he was no more than a skilled amatuer. We find ourselves in need of someone more...powerful-\"\n\n\"Get out.\" I interrupted, my face going rock hard. She looked shocked, likely it had been a long time since anyone had dared even the slightest rudeness to her. I didn't care, I wanted no part of whatever she had in mind. \"I don't care what you're offering. I don't do divorce work, I don't find lost cats, and I do NOT take on Grand Quests. I'm an investigator, a detective, get it?\" I stood, warming to my topic. \"I find out facts, then I give em' to the people that hired me. That's it. Now Get. Out.\" As I said those words, they resonated on the air and the walls of my office came alive with glowing blue runes. The elf looked downright flattened now, but she stood and composed herself, fixing me with a cold look.\n\n\"You will regret your actions here today, Mister Vargia. One does not reject the Fae Courts lightly. Not even a wizard of your reputed power.\"\n\n\"Go swallow a nail.\" I spat back as I held up the lighter again, brandishing it like a weapon, which backed by my wards it could very well be. She made a little sniffing sound and stalked out of my office. I gave her a few minutes to get out of the building, then grabbed my hat and coat and left myself, locking up and hitting the pavement, heading uptown to Crazy Han's Noodle Shack. I needed a meal.\n\nNote: I'll do more if people want. Had to stop to work and this was a good place." } ]