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BintangFortuna

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Bintang Fortuna 2

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You, are a normal person. Nothing unusual about you. You fall into a coma after an accident. You wake up years later and find the world's dominant religion revolves around worshipping you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I always thought I was a pretty good person. I would even joke around pretending I was a god among mortals. People liked me, and it wasn’t like I was too narcissistic. I think when people started to actually worship me was when it crossed the line.\n\nI woke up in a temple, with thousands of people gathered around me. People gasped, screamed, cried, clapped, for me. This made me panic, so I jumped off the pedestal I had been set on, and ran. As I ran past the crowd of people, I began to think. What is the last thing I remember? I remember… my house. My house went up in flames, and… I remember I didn’t get burned. My family… where are they now? I questioned everything as I ran through the golden halls of the temple. As I opened the doors to leave, a woman in a suit stopped me. “Excuse me, are you really CobbleRox, the god of our people?” CobbleRox? That was always a nickname of mine, but to be called by that name by a stranger? “I’m so confused. I need to leave.” I replied. I pushed through her and opened the gem decorated doors.\n\nThe light was blinding. I guess that’s what happens when you fall asleep for… wait. How long was I gone for? The city around me was different in almost every way. I have no idea what to do. People will most certainly surround me if an entire temple is built for me. Do people think I am a god? The temple and the crowd surrounding me all told me that I was being worshipped. I didn’t like this. I was a religious person myself, and I did not want this to continue. I headed for a clothing shop. “I need to cover my face.” I thought. If I just disappeared one day, maybe I could slowly fade from people’s memories.\n\n“Hey! Aren’t you CobbleRox?” Oh no, somebody spotted me. “Thanks for screaming as loud as possible.” I thought. “Yeah, he is!” People shouted. Now people were crowding around me, shouting prayers and things I didn’t even understand. I tried to push past them, but it took a while before I could squeeze in between the hoard of people. I made it into the store, until I realized I had no money. “Dumb, dumb!” I told myself. I can’t buy anything without a wallet. No, wait. I had an idea. I walked outside the store and told a man, “I need your wallet.” I know, it was dumb, but they think I’m a god. So, why wouldn’t I? He handed his wallet over immediately, praising me.\n\nI bought a backpack, sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. I also asked what the cashier what day it was. It was April 9th, 2039. Great, two days before my birthday, and I am in THIS situation. I got changed and left. I got some suspicious looks, but nobody reacted like they did before. “Yes!” I thought. Now, what to do?\n\nAs I stared into the blue sky, I thought of what to do. Get a job? No, I need to find my family. What about my belongings? My phone, my wallet, my video games? Oh no, my video games! No, video games are the LEAST of my worries right now. Has Breath of the Wild 2 come out yet? “Shush!” I told my inner self. I needed to focus on surviving. Then again, I could not hide myself and live a life of riches and fame. No, no. I’m not going to lie to people. So, with a hoodie, a backpack, and a confused self, I set out to find how to live a normal life, as a false god." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Humans are not, in fact, space orcs. As it turns out, they are more like space elves to the other races of the galaxy." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“The humans seem…tiny. Are you sure these are not pygmy humans? I specifically asked for regular sized humans when I was looking for workers.” The alien said to the merchant.\n\n“Trust me, the stories you read about humans being as tall as orcs is false. They share more traits with the elves from the Thinin galaxy. Don’t mix then up though. They both are rather unique in their skillsets.” The merchant replied.\n\nThe merchant made his way to the human. The young man was in a daze, a likely effect of the drug they gave him in order to transport him. The human groaned as his eyes rolled about between the alien and the merchant.\n\n“First, note their complexion. The skin can vary from a near pitch black to a very pale white. There are also tan and olive colored ones, those will cost extra. Next, they possess 5 fingers as opposed to the elves 3. This gives them additional dexterity when it comes to mechanical repairs. They also possess hundreds of backgrounds from architecture to cooking to music to name a few. Their personalities are incredible and are always good for morale of other species. The more fit ones, like these, can also defend and fight rather decently if given weapons.” The merchant said to the alien who was observing the human with their eyes.\n\n“However they are not a clear cut above elves. There are some disadvantages to them.” The merchant said.\n\n“I’m listening, tell me what’s wrong\" the alien said as he took a step back from the container holding the human.\n\n“Well like you can see, they aren’t orcs. They can’t do the lifting that you’d expect from an orc. They do not have any mind linking like elves do, they need to be able to communicate using noise or written orders. They are surprisingly difficult to mate as they can become very selective when it comes to partners. The gestation period is also rather long as it can reach up to 26 solar cycles of the Ravindr solar system.” The merchant said as he closed the door to the container.\n\n“26 SOLAR CYCLES? AS IF I CAN WAIT FOR THAT LONG!” the alien yelled out.\n\n“Listen I know it’s a long time but they do have a rather long life span. With good health and no major health issues, they live on average up to 2800 solar cycles, though they may not be much help after 2500. The elves live up to 1900 and orcs barely last 1000.”\n\n“They told me these things were just like orcs. I ordered 11 of them and they won’t equal the power of 2 orcs. I have a few elves already on board. Do the humans work well with others?” The alien said with anger in his tone.\n\n“Please, no reason to be mad. They work incredibly well with other species as long as there is no threat. They are slightly skittish since they possess rather soft skin like the elves. I know you were expecting something massive like the orcs but too many of the agencies simply did not have knowledge about humans. They are protected by the IPS accords and cannot be studied on without the highest clearance. Too many tabloids took off with the idea of a massive orc species that had the nimbleness of an elf, and the intelligence of a liquid former. Come on now, what do you think?” the merchant said as he took a seat in front of his desk.\n\n“I guarantee you’ll find work for them on the ship. You ordered what, 11 humans? I’ll knock 3 off the price. Total is now 310 Cibis. You know I haven’t led you wrong before haven’t I?” the merchant said as he opened the book and wrote something down.\n\nAfter a small pause in the discussion the alien spoke up.\n\n“Ok. You are one of the best smugglers I ever had, and you haven’t led me wrong yet. Give me the bill and I’ll bring my ship around back. I’ll pay you there.” The alien said as he began to make his way to the exit.\n\nThe merchant wrote a note in his book and closed it as he began to push the container of humans towards the back rooms.\n\nEdit:spelling and Grammer. Mobile life." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: A single everyday action by an ordinary person sets off a long series of increasingly implausible situations, eventually resulting in the apocalypse." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Every day Andy would set on a bench in the park and throw bread crumbs at the ducks. It was the best part of a day for someone who had a dull life and no friends. That was okay for Andy, he enjoyed feeding the ducks. One day a jogger managed to step on a duck's wing as it landed for bread crumbs. The jogger was struck with dread as he realized he'd injured the duck. He took it home intent on nursing the wounded animal back to health as an apology and way of forgiveness. But duck never fully healed. Its wing didn't work as well as it used to and when the jogger released the duck, it had trouble flying away. It was all the jogger could do and with a tear in his eye he let the duck go.\n\nThe next winter when the duck felt compelled to migrate south, it struggled to fly any sort of long distance. A trucker happened to see the crippled animal flying short distances down the side of the highway. The trucker had always had a soft spot for ducks. In his childhood he had raised ducks on a farm. They were his favorite animal. He pulled over on the side of the road and scooped the duck up. The trucker wasn't sure how far he could take the duck, but he was heading south and that was enough.\n\nNear the Mexican border the trucker had to let the duck go. His job required him to head back north. With almost human-like appreciation the duck took off on its journey to head further south for the winter. The duck disappeared into the setting sun as the trucker drove away. The duck flew as high as it could as it spotted other ducks in the sky. It wanted to group with them but the damaged wing wouldn't allow it. The duck was forced to land in a small pond and rest.\n\nThe next day the duck resumed it journey only to find itself trapped by a Mexican cartel member. The cartel member had betrayed his clan for money of an opposing group and now was on the run. He hadn't eaten in days. The duck would make a fine meal. Just as he was about to kill the duck a gunshot rang through the air. Slowly the mans grip loosened as the life spilled from his body. The duck scurried away.\n\nA few days passed and the duck's journey was coming to an end. It was near exhausted from the journey but alas it found itself with other ducks happily carrying on in whatever it is ducks do after they migrate. But unfortunately for the duck, it found itself swimming in a lake next to a factory with poisonous chemicals pouring into the water. Within days the duck became sick. The duck collapsed into the tall grass surrounding the shore. A gentle breeze shifted the grass and the water lapped against the shore. With heavy eyes the duck faded.\n\nA few hours later a dog found the duck. Without hesitation the dog grabbed the duck with its mouth and dragged it to their master. The gift was ill received. The owner clutched the duck with anger and beat the dog on the side of the head. A bone in the duck fractured as the man swung causing a sharp point. With the next swing the broken bone stabbed the man in the hand. Tiny bits of blood dripped from the wound. The man cussed throwing the duck away.\n\nThe next day the man felt sick. His insides were on fire and his tongue felt like it was being cut in half. He wanted to curl up in a ball and forget he existed. But as the president of FIFA, he had duties to attend to. He had to sit in a boring meeting with boring people while boring subjects were talked about. He had to go back Switzerland.\n\nAfter the meeting he made his way to a plane to return to Switzerland on the way there the infection worsened. The infection had taken hold. He was no longer Sepp Blatter. He had become a pathogen of intelligence. A disease with sentience. It had an overwhelming urge to spread itself, so slowly over the course of the flight it infected every passenger. By the time The plane reached Switzerland there was no place without an infected person. Even isolated places like Iceland, or Hawaii, and even Madagascar had been breached.\n\nIt only took a few more days before the uninfected caught on. News broadcasts swept the globe about the story of people turning on people. Zombies had transitioned from fantasy to reality. But it was far too late. The apocalypse was now. The survivors couldn't last forever. The infection would find them." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A zombie apocalypse begins in Sparta 650 BC." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "At first, Cynisca thought it was the Athenians. Possibly they had circled around the city – no. It’s not possible that the patrol would have missed this large of an army, especially one keeping an eye out for Persian envoys.\n\nCynisca watched as the first wave of civilians, now made solders, began hacking at the strangers. She noticed that these strange attackers were not armed. And they were not falling to the spears and swords of her people. A short sword plunged into the heart of one of the foes, but he just kept coming at the young Spartan boy, only a few years shy of heading off into war with the Persians, biting at his hands and neck.\n\nThese definitely were not Athenians.\n\nShe gazed up at the rest of the battle from her station on the hill. As the king’s sister, it was her duty to lead in his absence alongside of his queen but Eurydame was hiding in her bedchambers and did not possess the heart of a true Spartan. Thinking quickly, Cynisca called to her general – a woman from the stables who was well versed in war as she had continued her studies well after most other girls grew tired of them.\n\n“Aello, tell me what you see.”\n\n“I see that these who attack us do not die. I see that they approach us from the south, out of the mountains.” Aello looked at her feet.\n\n“Cynisca, there is one other thing that I notice, but I dare not speak of it except to you.” She drew a deep breath. “These foes…they do not die when struck, and they are turning our people against each other.”\n\nShock resonated within Cynisca. She let her gaze return to the fight.\n\nThe attacker, having caught a hold on the boy, had bit down hard on his forearm, and ripped off a piece of his flesh, swallowing it like a starving man. The boy screamed in agony and turned to get away, but then something even worse happened. Turning, Cynisca could almost see the life fade from his eyes, his jaw slacken, and a new light coming back and taking over his features. No longer was he in the throes of the fight, a passion that is true in nature to all Spartans. No longer was there youth and health about him. Now, a hunger had taken him. Now, he turned on his comrades and began to attack.\n\nThe Gods were punishing them.\n\nCynisca’s brow furrowed. Aello had said that the attack was coming from the south, but there was nothing to the south. Except for…\n\nTerror rang through every fiber in Cynisca’s being. The rotting flesh of a murderer who had been executed a month beforehand by being given to the mountain lunged at a farmer with a short sword. The Kaiadas was their way of returning evil to Hades, and it would seem that that evil was rising up against them now.\n\nThe princess turned back to Aello and gave the command to pull everyone back. They would have to barricade themselves and buy enough time for the children to get a head start towards Athens, as much as she hated to admit it, their high walls would be the only thing that could keep these monsters from turning her people into corpses.\n\nHaving made her decision, Cynisca closed her eyes and prayed that Artemis would intervene with whoever was causing her people to suffer, and headed off to pry Eurydame from her bed." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: When you passed on to Heaven, you asked an angel where you could see your past pets. The angel explained that animals have a different afterlife to people and that you can’t see them in Heaven. And that’s what began your crusade to unite the afterlives." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It felt like eons you have been battling this system, that pets and humans went to different afterlives.\n\nFinally, you got your chance, you worked the system to the point that now you would stand before God Almighty Himself, and demand that this atrocity end!\n\nIn true godly manner, he was huge, a titan of a person, large beard, pale skin, glowing gold halo, exactly as one would expect god almighty to be., stepping down from his throne, the boom of his feet striking the clouds sent tremors though the heavenly kingdom.\n\n\"You dare.. Demand that I, God Almighty, Creator of All, bow to your demands Mortal!\" he roared, the sky split an lighting struck the ground around you.\n\n\"This is wrong! We should be together\" you said back, barely being able to not piss yourself in fear, you had been fighting this for eons, this was your one shot and you would not lose it. You had to do this for Fuffy!\n\nThe world split around you, the clouds faded away to give sight to lava, fire, and the smell of Brimstone, the Titan that was God, now had red skin and huge horns, as if the whole world changed from Heaven to Hell.\n\n\"Lucy, Stop it\" an old man said as he seemed to just walk into the set, like this was all a production, and he was stopping the show.\n\n\"What's going on?\" You ask bemused and the old man looks at you sighs hard, whole the devil becomes more normal sized, and looks like just a buff human with small horns and red skin.\n\n\"Look, it was a good fight, and I really loved your persistence, but, this is Hell, not Heaven, being willing to leave your pet behind is a litmus test that Lucy here likes to play\" the old man said, to which the handsome devil smiled and winked at me.\n\n\"And you failed big time!\" the devil said, his grin growing broader.\n\n\"Oh let it go\" The old man said near to shushing the Devil.\n\n\"Er.. what's going on\" you ask now more worried then when you were facing the God Titan.\n\n\"Look, you were hell bound anyway, you lived a really sinful life, and were the kind of person that never would have made it to Heaven anyway, but, I loved your persistence, so we are going to send you over the rainbow bridge to be with Fuffy\"\n\n\"So.... I get to be with my dog again?\"\n\nThe both nodded.\n\n\"What about everyone else who is away from their beloved pets\" you ask finally.\n\nLucy chuckles for a second \"Oh that only happens in Hell, they get reunited in Heaven, we try to make people's time here as miserable as possible, which is why I put you though several thousand years of bureaucracy\"\n\n\"So this was all a game to you?\" I ask looking at the Devil, feeling really angry now.\n\nHe puts on a nice white buttoned shirt \"Of course, I am the devil, my role is to punish you, please try something about that, that temper of yours, oh, it's one of the real reasons why you are here, and trust me, if you botch Am's good will in this, I'll show you what Hell is really like\"\n\nI felt all the anger drain from me, filled now with fear \"I'll take the bridge\" I squeak out.\n\n\"Good call\" the Old man said and next thing I knew, I was walking on a rainbow bridge with Fuffy coming to greet me.\n\n\"Hey Old Girl!\" I said, kneeling down to hug her." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You're a seasoned dog groomer with a sterling reputation. Today you have an unusual new client booked. Owner's names are \"Persephone\" and \"Hades\" and the pet name \"Cerberus\"." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“He’s really a good boy, promise!” She said, hands clasped in front of her.\n\n“And if you don’t take him I’ll drag you down to the depths of hell!” He added with a smile and a wink.\n\nThey were a tall pair, this Hades and Persephone. They’d come early for their appointment and Persephone had immediately started pleading her case. He hadn’t intended on turning down the booking, but he was now having second thoughts.\n\n“Yes I am very serious,” Hades said before the groomer could open his mouth. “No, no I kid. You wouldn’t go down for this.” His lip curled at one end as he said it, eyes all but begging for a rejection.\n\n“Well I—“\n\n“The piracy though, now that’ll get ya. You wouldn’t believe how much the fates care for proper trademark law and all that jazz. They just reaaally love the screams those producers make down there, you know?” He continued, now pacing around the room, his voice somehow sounding like Hades was whispering in his ear. “You’d think the old hags would finally shrivel up and die if another of their favorite shows was cancelled. Well, an old man can hope can’t he?”\n\nOld?\n\nPersephone finally chimed in, grabbing Hades by the arm and pulling him aside. “Oh dear, now you’ve just gone and confused the poor boy. He’s older than he looks son, much much older.”\n\n“Look, I wasn’t planning on rejecting you to begin with. I just need the type of dog and what package you’d like. So why don’t we start there.” He managed, sweat trickling down the back of his neck. He hadn’t been thinking of turning them away, though he was now fully regretting that Avatar viewing from last night. He hadn’t even liked the damn movie.\n\nThey paused and stole a glance at each other before Persophone began, “Well we’d just like a really simple cut and maybe a trim of his nails if you can manage it. And as for the type of dog, well he’s…”\n\n“He’s a three headed monster.”\n\n“He is NOT a monster, how dare you!”\n\n“Oh come now he’s literally the gatekeeper to Hell.”\n\n“And he does a great job!”\n\n“Oh like hell he does, how the hell does za—“\n\nShe patted his arm, silencing the thought. “Okay. He might be a larger dog with three heads, teeth the size of a fully grown adult human, nails sharper than an obsidian blade and a tail that hits like a freight train—“\n\n“But!” Hades added cheerfully.\n\n“Buuut, I swear he’ll listen and will be totally calm the whole time?”\n\n“Now honey, why would you pose that as a question?”\n\n“I don’t know,” she said, looking down at her feet, “it didn’t sound as good as it did in my head and I panicked and forgot my point.”\n\nHades patted her head gently before turning an icy stare toward the groomer.\n\n“Long story short you will do this because I say so, and if you do not then the flames of hell will sound like a nice reprieve from what I will do to you for an eternity.”\n\nPersephone looked like she wanted to interject, but she faltered and ended up looking back down at her feet.\n\nThe groomer took a deep breath, then reached for the phone.\n\nHades raised an eyebrow, but gestured for him to continue, curiosity written plainly across his face.\n\n“Hey man, it’s Phil, where are you?” He asked hurriedly. Hades began slowly tapping his long finger on the counter. He had blue fingernails.\n\n“Almost there, bossman.”\n\n“HOW almost? Like five minutes or like five hours?”\n\n“Oh relax, I’ll be there someday.”\n\n“FIVE MINUTES HERC, I NEED YOU!”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: The best way to die is saving someone or in your sleep. You managed to do both" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Harvey was a heavy sleeper. He was, to be honest, heavy all over. At 62, and twice that many kilograms, his favourite past-time was eating. By God he was good at it. He also sleep-walked, so food left unguarded overnight would usually be gone by morning.\n\nHarvey’s wife Beatrice had died young, from a swift and invasive breast cancer. In their last few weeks together, as he brought her tea in the morning, she would smile just for a moment, before her pain rose and her eyes clouded over again. It had seemed to Harvey that she just melted away in front of him, till there was almost nothing left of her. One morning in early Feburary, there was nothing left at all.\n\nSince then, he had been a bit lost. He’d taken early retirement to look after Bea, so there was no job to plunge into in his grief. They had had no children, so he could not take on the stoic role for them he remembered his father adopting when his own mother died. All there was was their house - a beautiful cottage in the south. Warm in the summer and storybook in the snow. The garden had been Bea’s, and he could hardly look at it now.\n\nSo he sold up and moved back to the city. What few friends he had were there, and his old work. He knew the streets and liked seeing people going about their lives, even while he had no idea how to go about his. He took a flat in a converted victorian terrace, with thick walls and thin floors. His flat was up a flight of stairs, which he hoped might do something for his weight.\n\nHe’d been there for perhaps four months before he really met his neighbours: Sally and Tim lived on the floor below him, Dylan and Rick on the floor above. Sally invited Harvey in for a cup of tea one Sunday afternoon, and gradually, as she and Rick worked from home, the three of them formed a quiet friendship which existed in daytime hours, and occasionally on Sundays, shared with their partners. Sally was attracted to Harvey’s solitude and his sadness, and while she was not yet a mother, many years his junior, had the strong feeling that Harvey needed mothering. \n\nOne Sunday in August, a year and a half since Bea had died, the neighbours finished a shared dinner. Dylan and Rick had said goodbye and gone home. Tim was yawning and glancing over to the pile of work he still had to do before tomorrow. Harvey had offered once again to do the washing up. \n\n“No don’t be ridiculous Harv we have a dishwasher. Can I get you anything?” Sally asked.\n\n“No, you’re kind, I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I think I’ll be heading up as well then, I’m not feeling especially grand to be honest.” He was being honest. The occasional pains in his chest had become more than occasional, and he felt heavy and overtired.\n\n“Stay a moment, I, we, have something to tell you. We’re having a baby, well, two. Twins.” She grinned nervously at him, while Tim smiled at her.\n\nHarvey was very fond of Sally, and liked Tim, and so his joy was genuine. He gave them both enveloping hugs before taking his leave and heading, puffing, upstairs. The climb was difficult, and he staggered into his bedroom, breathing heavily. A hand on his heart. He lay down looking at the ceiling, wondering why he didn’t want to call for help. After a while, the pain faded, and he fell asleep.\n\nTim took Sally to bed, and neither of them noticed the candle that slid gradually over on its river of wax, the flame now gently licking at a bunch of slightly old, dry flowers on the table. The table was by the window, curtains closed, and so the fire took very quickly. \n\nUpstairs, Harvey, stood somnambulantly to his feet, eyes open, seeing nothing. His heart, clogged and heavy with loss, gave up. As he fell, heavily to the floor, taking his bedside table with him, the shock reverberated around the old house. A glass ornament fell in the bedroom beneath and shattered on the slate slats of the fireplace. Sally, a light sleeper, woke up in shock. As she overcame the disorientation of sleep, she smelled burning and shook her husband awake.\n\nIn the end, the fire brigade saved the building, though they had a few words to say about flat batteries and smoke alarms. The neighbours were all unharmed, and Harvey knew none of it. He had lain down to sleep happy for his new friends, and missing his wife." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: Plot twist!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lieutenant David Stryker grabbed the doorknob and turned. No give. He took the barrel of his M1911 in hand, and in an organized downward swing removed the doorknob from the door. He holstered the sidearm and swung around his primary firearm, a suppressed MP7 submachine gun - the same model used by the Navy SEALs. When radical Islamic terrorists invaded one of Chicago's biggest skyscrapers, threatening to demolish it from within, the US Government needed the very best. Lt. David Stryker was the very best.\n\nHe raised his weapon, and got into a crouch. He pushed through the door. \"I'm in,\" he whispered into his comm. \"What now?\"\n\nA voice answered his almost immediately. \"Good work. Find and eliminate any Jihadists you see. They might hide from you, but you must find each and every one of them. Good luck, Stryker.\"\n\n\"I'll do my best.\" Stryker advanced down the hallway. It was a fairly average office building - patterned carpet, light blue walls, fabric cubicles. Fluorescent lights affixed in drop ceilings. The smell of paper and printer ink. Windows. But it felt off. David had been to offices before. The energy of the place felt corrupted, as if something was here when it should not be. It's the terrorists, obviously, thought David. Strange how profoundly a space is affected by who's in it.\n\nAs if on cue, a man shot out from behind a cubicle wall. It was an Arab-looking man with a Chinese AKM knock-off, his face curled into a snarl. He looked fierce. He looked like he wanted to kill. He looked like the kind of motherfucker that needed to be put down.\n\nDavid pivoted on his heel. Already in a crouch, he braced himself, and fired a burst from his gun at the terrorist. Two of the three bullets landed in the man's face - one in his jaw and one right above his left eye. His face dropped from view, and all at once a cry rung out from the office. Several Jihadists, in bulletproof vests and carrying AK74s, strafed across the office, firing their weapons.\n\nDavid had enough time to duck behind a wall, and all the shots fired missed him. He kissed the cross around his neck, and began to sporadically return fire at an enemy he couldn't see. It seemed like they never ran out of ammunition. Every so often there would be a lull, but by the time David had recharged his weapon, they had done so as well, and his suppression began anew. After a minute David took a deep breath, held it, took another one, and as soon as the lull started, he sprinted as fast as he could into a closer cover.\n\nHe ducked behind a desk right as the shooting started. It tore up the fabric of the cubicle wall behind him, and chips of wood began to rain down. He fired his MP7 blindly from behind the cover, until there was another lull. It only lasted a few seconds but as soon as it started, David was up, and ready to go.\n\nIt happened almost in slow motion. He saw the eight jihadists, reloading their weapons, and then, as if in a dream, he passed each one of their heads through the sight, and watched as it blossomed. They seemed to open up. It was almost artistic.\n\nHis clip emptied as he pulled the sights over the last of the eight. He looked up, weapon loaded, and began to raise the muzzle. David acted fast. He vaulted the desk, and in 3 quick strides had closed with the Jihadist. He nudged the muzzle to the side with his elbow, and with the heel of his hand he shoved the cartilage of the man's nose as far up as it would go. The man fell flat on his face.\n\nDavid surveyed the carnage. Eight men, all bleeding from wounds to the head. He frowned. David knew that he was the best for the job. This was just another hazard. He had been shot before. He still had the scar. David wiped a bit of the terrorist's blood off his hand, resumed his crouch, and continued on.\n\nHe arrived at a break room. The door was slightly ajar, and he heard voices. He peered inside, and saw several young men with Russian machine weapons lying against the wall in wait. David knew that there was no way he was getting into that room and living to talk about it, at least as long as those gunners were alive. He was not happy about it, but he would have to kill a few more people. In the end, it was them, or him. His life was in danger.\n\nHe grabbed something off of his bandolier, removed the pin, and lobbed it gently through the door. There was a boom, and the door blew open and the room filled with smoke. And debris. The shrapnel had thoroughly eliminated any threat in the room. He walked inside, and surveyed the damage. The men were all against one wall, huddled into organized fire teams. They had clearly practiced this kind of thing. It was almost -\n\nSomething caught David's peripheral vision. He turned, saw a silhouette, but it was too late. A blunt object rammed into his forehead and.\n\nSomething.\n\nChanged.\n\nDavid looked at the young woman standing in front of him. She was maybe about 23, at the oldest. She was wearing a white dress shirt tucked into a navy skirt. Her hair was up. She was holding a wooden paper towel rack, and she was crying. Her mascara was running down into the blood on her face. The front of her blouse was turning red. She clutched at her stomach and fell into David's arms. He caught her, out of instinct, and saw what she had been looking at. What she had attacked. He understood why. It made a lot of sense.\n\nHe dropped her, and stared at his hands, or what had taken their place. His hands were bundles of steel, three-fingered claws that clacked as he forced the fingers together. He felt the hydraulics push, knew they could crush bones.\n\nHe stood up. Heard servos move, pistons fire. He turned his head, and saw the twelve young MBAs he had just murdered. They were sprawled out haphazardly against the wall, with broken bones and rivers of blood. No guns. No nothing. Just the absence of ambition and drive, the shells that used to house minds and dreams.\n\nHe stumbled out the door, heard his feet clank through the carpet to the concrete. He saw the 8 Jihadists that he had killed. hiding behind their cubicles and overturned chairs. He saw the man he had killed when he walked through the door. The bullets were in the same place, but there was no gun. No sinister grin. Just a young man in a powder blue shirt and a black tie.\n\nDavid took a deep breath. Tried to. Something was. Not work. Ing. He looked around. Nobody there. Had he completed the mission? What was the mission? Did he do a good job.\n\nHe looked at his hands again, and he noticed the blood of the man whose skull he had crushed, mangled in that pincer grip. He couldn't take it. It was not us or them. It was him. He looked to the window.\n\nOutside he saw the tops of skyscrapers. He was on the 22nd floor. He might be resilient. But how?\n\nHe turned his whole body to face the window, and broke into a sprint. He felt the concrete floor crunch underneath him as he accelerated, shredding the patterned carpet. He got to the window, and for a moment, he looked into his own eyes.\n\nHe saw three red dots staring at him. My three red dots, he thought. They seemed to say, do it. Finish the job.\n\nHe wanted to say yes, but the eyes disintegrated like the rest of the window, and then it was just the rush of air and SYSTEM ERROR" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You were supposed to be the worst trio of superheroes: a telepath who can only read his own mind, a guy who can only fly an inch over the ground, and a girl who can turn into immobile stone. You take it upon yourselves to defend the city." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Blog Entry, 12.1.2076, Stonedgirl15:\n\nHey Blockers!\n\nI heard people saying we're the worst trio there is, and maybe they're right. But this morning, I got notice... of something interesting to share...\n\nCause, for some reason, we aren't the worst there is. Let me introduce...\n\nI'm Kendra, otherwise known as Lithic, and I belong to a top well-known organization named Super-Trio.\n\nMy superpower manifested when I was about 3 years old and disappeared in a community sandbox in a small town near Cologne, Germany. My mother had the shock of her life and went looking for me around the whole city. She had turned around for just a second, she claimed later. When she found me hours later in the sandbox, still playing, she first thought that she was going crazy. It took three more accidents like this, but then my father put a gps on my wrist. They tracked it and found out I never moved, and of course, saw me change back from sand into human flesh. The German Institute for Paranormal Activity, short GIPA, took me in after that. My parents still visit from time to time, but I mostly live here now.\n\nMy roommate Aphorixs, the x is silent - don't ask, he thought is was cool, his real name is Günther- is a telepath, who can only read his own mind. But he can read it damn well. He took care of me, after I got here. He's several decades older than me. Günther could probably be my grandfather, but he never acted like one. He always acts like a \"cool kid\", whatever that meant in 1950.\n\nMy boyfriend Inchworm, aka. Fred, can fly about one inch over the ground, that is just enough power to not get smashed on concrete when jumping out of a helicopter. Well, not scientifically, but for some reason it works. We figured this out on accident, though, and Fred always gets half an heartattack whenever he lands, thinking his powers might fail him. But they never did, yet. And I sure hope they never will.\n\nWe usually get up at 7 am. Our usual workdays constist of nothing much really... we help old ladies cross the street, try not to get smacked by them for trying to help, and find stray cats and dogs.\n\nWe were even in our local newspaper twice. The first time, when Inchworm fell out of the helicopter when the police were looking for some bank robber. The second time, just recently, was when my brother graduated. My town is building up a new tradition to save the local newspaper from going bancrupt, where local heroes and newly graduates work together in the community garden for a day. Clean up. Help out. You know the drill.\n\nHowever, we are on social media a lot, mostly because of our old classmates, who make memes out of us.\n\nBut life is good here. I have Fred and Günther, and I really enjoy the time in the gardens every year.\n\nOther than that, the Super-Trio officially works for the Government, that's at least something I guess... in Germany that means we're always guaranteed a full-time job and a neat pay raise every then and now, while not having to do too much.\n\nOh yes, the reason I am writing is that there is a new Super-Trio near Düsseldorf, also Germany. They have powers, too. One, Miss(ed) Shot, can shoot lasers from other peoples eyes, but that person is selected at random. Probably some atomic connections responsible for that, but further testing was delayed due to a... technical problem, they said. The second one, Lady Handsome, turns into a handsome man at day, which is in my opinion the coolest power of all of ours, but no judge, Laserpüppi. And the last of the three, Boynado, can breathe in thrice the amount of air normal humans can breathe in. Now... that's useless!\n\nThats why I think, at least we're not the worst, right?\n\nWell, see ya block-fam!\n\nYour Lithic" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You and your friends try to find out who took the cookie from the cookie jar,your friends are starting to take this too seriously" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“I will now lay out the facts of the case and present to you my conclusion,” he said to his three friends gathered at the small wooden table which sat to one side of the kitchen. It wasn’t a large kitchen nor was it a large apartment. It was that smallness which made the opened cookie jar all the more apparent and foreboding as it sat on the counter surrounded only by a coffee pot and a small Rolodex of recipes and conversion tables. The people sitting at the table said nothing. “I ask that you have patience,” said the one man standing. He held the air of authority over the table and was clearly the one investigating the crime.\n\n“First, we have the evidence of one half-eaten cookie which was found next to the cookie jar.” He presented a plastic bag which held within it the remains of a chocolate chip cookie. “As we sat down at the table, I presented each of you with a small piece of play-doh which I ask you each to now bite. Any objections will be seen as evidence of guilt.”\n\nThe friends picked up the multicolored children’s dough and each took a bite. One bit daintily while the others all but bit through the clay.\n\n“Thank you. Now, as we examine the measurements of the bite marks, we will find that only one corresponds to the bite marks on the cookie.” He laid the cookie down upon the table near the bite casts. Without looking he continued. “You will see that the teeth marks belong to Deborah.” There were gasps of shock as heads turned toward the woman at the head of the table. Tears poured from her eyes.\n\n“I’m so sorry,” she cried.\n\n“Please be quiet,” said the man investigating. “Your guilt is apparent, but that is not the whole story. I ask you all to continue with your patience as we explore further.”\n\nShe sobbed and sniffled before quieting down and holding her head dejectedly, unable to meet the stares of the others.\n\n“Deborah, you did not work alone.”\n\nAll eyes once again looked to the investigator.\n\n“The coffee in the pot near the cookies is still warm, and one glass is missing. Only one of us drinks coffee at such an hour, and only one of us has the power to coerce Deborah into such a heinous act.” He raise his finger to the man beside Deborah. “John.”\n\n“How dare you,” shouted John.\n\n“How dare I? How dare you,” said the investigator. “You went to retrieve your coffee and what better to dip into the piping hot concoction than a sweet cookie. Deborah caught you in the act, and as her husband you forced her to take a bite and share in the guilt. But poor Deborah’s conscious cried out and she couldn’t bring herself to finish the cookie.”\n\nJohn dejectedly sat back in the seat which he had half-risen from. He began to mumble some kind of apology, but was cut-off by the investigator.\n\n“That is not all. You are perhaps a greedy man John, and we are all aware of your selfishness. Need I call into evidence the debauchery of last year’s Fourth of July and the case of the missing hot dog?” He waited for an answer which was not forthcoming. “But despite your culinary theft and your faults, you are not a man who will jump to action first. No. You wait to see wether an act can be done successfully before committing yourself. Just as in hot dog caper when you followed your hungry wife’s lead, today you did not act first. Alex did.”\n\nThere was no call of objection. No crying. No shouts from Alex, but from the man sitting at the table came a slow clap.\n\n“Well done,” said Alex. “Well done, indeed.”\n\n“Thank you.”\n\n“But,” said Alex. “You forgot one thing.”\n\n“And what’s that,” asked the investigator looking flummoxed.\n\nAlex rose from the table revealing a nickel plated .45. “I’m the one with the gun.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: The local superhero is also secretly the head of the most influential crime family. He sees it as a necessary evil - controlling or outcompeting the crime he can't stop." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Everyone knew where Pool Shark spent his days: Swank's was the only pub within a few block radius of Shark's home. And everyone knew why he spent his days there: the wheelchair was an obvious tell. That was to say he wasn't a threat or dangerous to the criminals who might want to do his section of town dirty. Between his powers -- an unerring power shot when using a cue no matter the distance or weird geometry -- and his gang of Sharks, folks knew not to mess in Shark's territory.\n\nWhich was why Spinster (it was a dumb name, but junior heroes without much bank didn't get a lot of choices) was surprised to find some baby gangers on the edge of Shark's territory. He was even more surprised when chasing said gangers had led him to being thrown at Shark's feet, in what was presumably Swank's basement, based on the crates and shelves of alcohol.\n\nSpin sat himself up slowly. \"Why'd you do it, Shark?\"\n\n\"Do what, young blood? Let's hear what you think you're accusing me of.\" Shark smiled, his teeth gleaming in the low light of the basement. It was hard to focus on anything else as Shark's dark vest and darker shirt blended with the unlit brick behind him.\n\n\"Betray the Companions.\" Spin waved a hand at the assorted Sharks that had dragged him off to this room when he had chased the baby gangers back to their apparent base. The back of his head throbbed from the bat he had taken. \"You know Excelsior won'tstand for--\"\n\n\"Excelsior knows.\"\n\n\"What?\"Shark pulled a cue ball from a bag on the side of his chair and rolled it in his hand. \"It's hard being a lone hero. Especially when you don't look like a 'real' hero. Cain't be too dark, now can we?\"\n\n\"Doesn't matter. What matters is doing what's right,\" Spin declared. But he knew how his application to the larger branches of the Companions languished while others moved on more quickly. He'd wondered... but wondering didn't fix things, and he had his daughter to think about too.\n\n\"Of course, of course. But what's right and what's efficient don't always work. And what fixes the problem,\" Shark tossed the cue ball at Spin, nodding when the younger man caught it with barely a flinch, \"may be right for being a workable solution.\"\n\n\"But you're helping criminals!\"\n\n\"Training new Sharks. My boys know the neighborhood better than I do at this point. They can keep the trouble low, make it hard to move in when there's already business here. A total void is hard to maintain, particularly with legs like mine. They have the small rumbles while I can focus on bigger trouble that might move in.\"\n\n\"But --\"\n\n\"Look, young blood, I know it's a lot. But I like you. And new Sharks aren't the only thing I need to train.\" Shark nodded to his men, who hauled Spin to his feet. He patted the younger man on the arm as he wheeled past. “So what say you forget you saw this place tonight, and you and me meet publicly topside in a few days? You can come costumed, but it might be better if you come civilian and bring that daughter of yours. Keep it all in the family, if you will.\"\n\n(Edit because formatting went weird)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Not all heroes are human, and not all humans are heroes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tick Tock Tick Tock\n\nA timer counted down, wires attached to a digital display showing 30 minutes and 56 seconds. Those wires led down to 4 cylinders, leaking whatever substance was inside, in a gas form. Beams surrounded to cylinders, keeping them upright, an LED light on top glowed a dark, ominous red, filing the room with light, yet also creating distorted shadows.\n\nAbove that room sat a large ballroom, filled with platinum tables, and around those plastic chairs. The tables had table clothes, spaces set, and a middle piece, same on every table. A few people sat around some of the tables, but the room was mostly empty. Conversations between those inside filled the place with sound. Banners hung on the walls, all the same in design, a man in a tailored suit with a slight smile stood on the left part of the banner, while text took up the rest. It said \"Vote for Andrew Christian, President 2020.\"\n\nMore guests started to trickle in, and along with police filled the room. Sniffer crews entered, with sniffer dogs in tow, and started at work. One man, in particular, looked rather nervous, sweaty and looking rapidly around. The dog approached him and started to bark and growl. The officer pulled the dog back and said, \"excuse me sir, but please stand up and allow me to search you.\" \"Officer, I have a concealed carry license,\" the man said, voice shaking \" Perhaps that is what you dog is smelling.\" The officer pondered this for a second then said \" You gun for a sec please.\"\n\nThe man retrieved the gun from the holster on his side and held it out to the officer. The dog followed the gun with his eyes, growling in its direction. \"It is the gun then, ok your good sir\" the cop said while handing the gun back to the man. \"Please keep that holstered unless the need arises for its use.\" \"Will do officer.\" He responded. The cop continued on his walk, talking into his radio for a bit.\n\nThe guests started to flood in and the noise increased as more and more conversations broke out. On stage, the red curtains began to role back, and the noise slowed to a stop. The man from the banners walked on stage to the podium bearing a single microphone. And began his speech to the audience.\n\nTick Tock Tick Tock\n\nThe display showed only ten minutes now, and the LED light began to grow lighter in color. Outside the room a dog growled and barked ferociously at the room. Three police men stood, backs pressed against the walls next to the door, one, with his hand on the knob, began a count with his fingers. Three... Two... One. The door flew open and they breached in, weapons up and ready to fire. The bomb was spotted and the alarm rung.\n\nIn the ballroom, panic was everywhere, people ran towards the door, but for some reason it was blocked. The man onstage was surrounded by bodyguards, and led to an alternate exit, which also was blocked. Unknowing of what to do the bodyguards stayed around the man, ready to throw themselves on top of him to protect him from the explosion. The man with the gun stood, and made his,way through the panic, Towards the man with bodyguards.\n\nDownstairs, the cops fumbled with the bomb, whose display now said 1 minute. The dog, realizing the trouble, ran forward and dove into the bomb ripping through wiring too fast for the device to go off, at 34 seconds, the display stopped. Above, the man with the gun aimed at the man with bodyguards. One of th guests saw the gun and ran forward tackling the gunman. He yelled \"Gun! Gun!\" As he wrestled on the floor with the man. One of the bodyguards intervened and knocked the gunman out.\n\nIn the aftermath, the gunman was apprehended, and the three police man and body guard were rewarded, while the dog and man who stopped the gunman went unnoticed.\n\nNot all heroes are human, but no matter who they are they are heroes still. And not all humans are heroes, but not all are villians either." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: In order to curb growing suicide rates, the country's government has instantiated a procedure known as \"reboot.\" You can wipe your memory and be placed into a new life with a new job rather than killing yourself. You realize that you have been rebooted..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“I must say Madame this is highly unusual. Someone of your status. Well It’s just I’ve never attended to a reboot such as this. And the legality of it all. If I was caught issuing a reboot without one of the patient’s consent, I’d…” The doctor looked between the two patients sitting in the reboot machine., biting his lip as he considered the consequences of his actions.\n\n“You’ve already received payment for the operation. It’s too late to back out on me now. I just need you to keep your end of the bargain.” The doctor hesitated for a moment before finally nodding, heading over the reboot machine.\n\n“I just have to warn you one last time Madame. Once you reboot there’s no going back. Your conscious mind may not remember anything but a person’s unconscious mind can only handle a single reboot. Once we’re finished here that’s it. As far as you’ll be concerned you’ll have spent your entire life in the body of the fellow sleeping next to you, and likewise he’ll wake up tomorrow morning thinking he’s spent his entire life in your shoes. The only memories missing will be everything that’s happened within the last twenty-four hours or so. Besides that, you’ll effectively be trading all your memories and your body with him.\n\nI nodded, hardly paying attention to the doctor as he repeated the same warning I had heard countless times before by doctors unwilling to go through with the reboot. But this was finally the one. There was no going back. As I heard the soft sound of the reboot machine starting up I lay back and braced myself for what came next. As I began to drift to sleep I turned my head to look towards the weak figure sitting next to me. A raspy cough caused him to roll over in his sleep but he didn’t wake. I knew he may never wake, and it was for that reason I came here, to give my son the chance at life he deserved.\n\nI didn’t know for how long I had slept, but when I awoke I found myself in a hospital bed, dazed and disoriented. As I returned to my senses I heard a voice shouting, across the room.\n\n“Madame! Madame!” It was that voice that finally brought me back to reality. I hadn’t been rebooted. I was still in my normal body. Rising out of the reboot machine I marched towards the doctor, demanding to know why he hadn’t gone through with the procedure.\n\n“Madame! I told you the mind can only go through a single reboot! Any more and you’re putting not only your own life, but the life of the other patient on the line! You’re lucky I detected signs of a prior reboot in both of your brainwaves before I went through with the procedure!”\n\nThose words hung over me, freezing me in place. I looked to my son, only six years and yet already his weakened body struggled to hold onto life. There was only a single person in the world who reboot into the weakened and dying body. I thought back to the words of the doctor. Once you reboot yourself you’ll never remember your old life. I could only manage to bring a single word to my lips, knowing it would never be heard by the dying figure sleeping before me.\n\n“Mother?”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Douglas Adams' version of the Lord of the Rings." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Frodo sat in his home, enjoying a spot of tea after his second breakfast. He rather enjoyed a good spot of tea after his second breakfast, as well as after his first breakfast. Occasionally he enjoyed it after his supper, but only on days he didn’t have tea after second breakfast.\n\nThere came a knock at the door, and being that that usually meant a visitor had arrived, he went to see who it was.\n\n“Gandalf?”\n\nGandalf the grey, a tall grey bearded wizard in a grey robe, strode into his home. Gandalf had been an old friend of Frodo’s, as well as of His uncle Bilbo before him. He’d never thought to ask him about the obvious alliteration of his name and choice of clothing, but it was just as well, as wizards weren’t want to explain themselves. It was an old wizarding trick, that, to keep people guessing.\n\n“Frodo, do you still have that ring?”\n\n“Ring?”\n\n“Yes, the ring, the magic ring that turns you invisible.”\n\n“Oh, that ring, yes of course I have it.”\n\n“Good, I’m going to need you to take it to Rivendell.”\n\n“What? Why?”\n\n“Because it’s very important that we do so.”\n\n“But why? Do you realize how far Rivendell is?”\n\nGandalf sighed impatiently, pouring himself a cup of tea. “Yes of course I do, but we’ve got to get it there so we can decide what to do with the cursed thing.”\n\n“But why?”\n\n“Didn’t you jus these me? It’s cursed, Frodo, and we have to do something about it.”\n\n“It’s what?”\n\n“Cursed.” He said simply, sipping his tea.\n\n“What? Cursed? How come you never told me it was cursed.”\n\n“Didn’t I?” He sipped his tea again. “Well of course I did.”\n\n“When? I think I would have remembered that.”\n\n“When? Well just now, haven’t you been listening?”\n\n“Gandalf, don’t you think you could have told me s but sooner? I’ve had that ring for literally years. I use it to check the mailbox in my underwear. What do you mean it’s cursed?”\n\n“It’s terribly complicated, Frodo, and I don’t have time to explain. The wrong wraiths will be upon us in short order and we really must get under way.”\n\n“Ring wraiths?”\n\n“Yes, servants of the dark lord, set in recovering the ring, you know.”\n\n“I most certainly do not know.”\n\n“Well you do now.” He sipped his tea again. “Frodo, What are you doing? We really must get going.”\n\n“Get going? I’ve only just had second breakfast.” Gandalf stares at him. “It wouldn’t be proper to travel on a full stomach.”\n\nGandalf rolled his eyes. “Well it wouldn’t be proper to get decapitated by the Nazgul, now would it.”\n\n“The what?”\n\n“Hm?”\n\n“What are the nazgul?”\n\n“The wrong wraiths, Frodo, do try to keep up. Now, you will want to pack quickly now, and so we can be on our way to Rivendell, and take some traveling companions with you as I won’t be able to join you.”\n\n“What? This trip to Rivendell is your idea Gandalf, what do you mean you won’t be able to join me?”\n\n“Well I’ve got important business to deal with along the way, but I’ll meet you there so we can discuss how to get the ring to Mordor.”\n\n“To Mordor? I thought we were going to Rivendell.”\n\n“Yes, to discuss how to get the ring to Mordor.”\n\n“Why on earth would we bring the ring to Mordor?”\n\n“To destroy it and end the curse.” Gandalf stared at Frodo a moment longer. “Well get to it Frodo, there really isn’t that much time.”\n\n“Well I cant very well just get to it now can I? I mean whose going to look after my house? I’ve got biscuits in the pantry you know, they won’t last and I wouldn’t want them to go to waste.”\n\nGandalf looked at Frodo calmly. “Your biscuits will be fine.”\n\n“Yes?”\n\n“Yes.” He waved his hand. “Wizarding trick, they’re fine. Now, do get going, we’ve got a long journey ahead of us, so you’ll want to pack light, and most importantly, bring a towel.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You are an evil overlord at the end of the most extreme dungeon in the world. One day, a happy-go-lucky, unaccompanied level 1 child shows up in your throne room." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The door to the throne room creaked open, the eerily sound reverberating throughout the throne room. The Empress, slightly dozing off, sat up straight as she sensed something enter her presence. It wasn’t moving in a quick pace, but she felt that it wasn’t moving purposely; just ambling around aimlessly until it bumped against a wall and fell on its haunches.\n\nShe looked from the small being’s location to her slightly open door, seeing multiple eyes watching the small being with adorable yet fearful eyes.\n\nWhat had entered into her presence?\n\nShe turned herself invisible and stood up, leaving a copy of her body in her chair. As she rounded her throne room, her generals and lieutenants spilled into the throne room whispering amongst themselves as they chased the little being around her throne. Some of them watched her body double to make sure she was still sleeping until the others secured the small thing and went to make an escape.\n\nThat’s when she turned visible and closed the door.\n\n“Would someone care to explain what that thing is doing here?” She asked, intimidating her generals and lieutenants with a glance.\n\n“Er — ah, good evening, your majesty,” her First Lieutenant, Merodineaux, kneeled. The others followed suit as he continued , “you look magnificent in all of your splendor and beaummphghfff! HMMMMMMMM!”\n\n“Does anyone else want to explain what that thing is doing here?” She demanded as her lieutenant’s muffled screams expressed her seriousness.\n\nThe little thing laughed suddenly as her lieutenant’s face began to change shade as he was unable to breathe.\n\n“Well you see, your grace,” one of her generals, Kullibron, tried to speak. “We, uh, wanted to, you know, being you a gift... yeah a gift, and like surprise you since you’re single and gorGOK!”\n\nWith his windpipe swollen, Kullibron fell next to the passed out Merodineaux, choking desperately for air. The little one laughed innocently as it stumbled to her suffering subjects and slapped their faces with delight.\n\n“Who’s next?” The Empress snarled. “And bear in mind that if the next answer doesn’t meet my expectations, you’re ALL going to be replaced, buried alive, and suffer for eternity.”\n\n“We found it in a burned village,” Wargozer cried in fear. “It was abandoned and crying, so we thought we’d terrorize it for fun. But it laughed without fear and played indiscriminately of our appearance! He called us dinosaurs and aliens, and mimicked us. He wasn’t afraid of us at all.”\n\n“Give him to me,” the Empress glared.\n\n“But your Highness, I don’t think that’s —,” was all Wargozer could say before his head rolled off his neck. As his body searched for its missing head, Wargozer’s head rolled over to the little thing who, in its curiosity, stuck its fingers up the head’s nose and in his eyes. “AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”\n\n“I said give him to me,” the Empress demanded. Her last commanding standing, Arcinor, quickly picked the little being up, presenting it to his empress.\n\n“Do you know who I am, insolent creature?” She growled.\n\nThe little one tilted its head sideways, drool dripping from its open mouth as its eyes slowly opened and closed.\n\n“Don’t m-make me repeat m-myself, p-peasant child,” the Empress furrowed her brow to uphold her anger. “Do you know who I am?”\n\n“Mama!” The small one yawned widely.\n\n“I am n-not your m-m-mother,” the Empress replied as the gradient little sunshine went quiet. “I AM—”\n\n“Excuse me, your Highness,” Arcinor interrupted, “I think it’s sleeping.”\n\nWith a wave of her hand, the Empress blasted Arcinor to the wall. He wasn’t dead but he knew he would if he took another hit like that.\n\n“Arcinor, take these sad excuses out of my sight,” the Empress silently ordered. “Then, clear out the castle and don’t let anyone inside until I’ve given permission.”\n\n“Yes, your Highness,” Arcinor bowed, grabbing his comrades bodies, and head, and dragging them out the door. “But your Highness, what about the—”\n\nA gust of wind slammed the door shut in his face in response to his aggravating questions. Now in silence, the Empress’ eyes shined with glee as she spun around the throne room. Her demonic armor disappeared as her heart overflowed gazing upon the small thing’s face. So peaceful with no fear, so cute with no anger.\n\nShe left her throne room slowly, cautiously scanning the castle for anyone around, but there wasn’t a soul in her home. She rushed to her room and laid the child in a makeshift bed that she watched until the sun rose.\n\nWhen it came, the little bundle of joy awoke with it, playing with a dangerous being as he pulled her hair and pinched yanked her ears. As the Empress spent her day with the little one, a wicked idea came upon her: if one small being was this much fun, how much more would it be if there were more?\n\nShe should take every last baby for her pleasure." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 400-500 words. Prompt: Your pour over your research. \"It makes no sense; they arent stronger or faster than our kind so why are we losing\". The man you saved laughs; \"That's where they all fell short, everyone always underestimates human endurance, We are all doomed. No one ever looks at why they thrived for so long\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The dead and dieing lay in equal ranks. Each man marked with the red slash on their forehead that denoted the triage nurse had marked them for death. This one with a missing leg, that one with internal haemoragging, a third with massive concussive brain damage from a seismic grenade. None would live to see the sun set and the Doctors should, or must, spend their time on those that could be saved.\n\nThe roof of the hospital cave shuddered and sent shards of rock onto the wounded. Even here, a kilometre beneath the surface the orbital bombardments could deal massive damage.\n\nDoctor Hunter's hands worked swiftly. Moving the lazer scapel to remove explosive shell fragments and then switching to the holo-stitches to seal the wound. It was a fruitless gesture. A Tourniquet on a wound that would leave this soldier a limping husk. But he would be alive. This was his fifth patient (victim his mind suplied) that he had treated today. And it was only two hours past sunrise. There would be more.\n\n\nIt was only a matter of time before they came. With dropships and assault troops. A hospital was not a place of sanctuary for them. Just a place wounded soldiers and civilians could be shot or knived or otherwise killed. This far forward there was no hope. They would overun the place in an hour, maybe two if they were cautious. The time had come to evacuate, but Hunter was reluctant to give the order, yet still he couldnt wait any longer.\n\n\"Nurse!\" he shouted \"Get the wounded out of here. Take what supplies you can.\"\n\n\"Sir, its 3 kilometres to the next nearest rest station.\" she objected.\n\n\"I dont care, get them out of here.\"\n\nShe scurried off arranging the evacuation.\n\nHunter looked to the triage centre, seeing those who had no hope. His morals commanded him he must not leave them, but circumstances demanded he must.\n\nA grizzled Sargent missing an arm nodded to him.\n\n\"We're dead men any way,\" he said, cutting through the philosphical debate.\n\nDoctor Hunter knew it was true.\n\n\"Get them out\" muttered the Sargent. \"We'll hold here.\"\n\nHunter nodded and turned his back on the Sarge. It wasnt his fight.\n\n\n\nThe aliens came bursting through the blast doors. Unleashing a hellfire of lazer beams and explosive rounds. The fire burnt through all and hardly nothing was left of the hospital cave but charred ruins of medical equipment and empty beds.\n\nA heap of bodies was left at the main entrance, each one marked with a red slash on its forehead.\n\nOne human was left alive. Bleeding badly and not long for this life. The alien kicked onto him onto his back.\n\n\"It makes no sense; they aren't stronger or faster than our kind so why are we losing?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: It's your birthday and you meet a wizard who offers you any one wish. It'll always take him a year to grant it though." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When I recall that day, the first thing that springs to mind is how the wizard’s craggy face illuminated over the birthday candles. It was my tenth birthday, and the best gift of all was not one covered in wrapping paper. That year, my parents had made the delightful mistake of hiring a magician to entertain us all.\n\nAn elderly man of around seventy, attempting to placate all twelve of us kids with squeaky balloon animals and creased playing cards. He did the worst job possible. For a start, one of the balloon animals escaped in a burst of air and ended up hitting poor Robert right in the eye. He later got into an argument with defiant little Emma when she refused to return the toy rabbit she’d pulled out of his hat.\n\nWhen finally the playing cards came out, all but one child had rushed over to the buffet table to eat heaps of jelly and ice cream. That child was me, my ten year old people-pleasing self. Reader, I never did seem to kick that habit even now at the age of twenty-seven.\n\n“So what’s the next trick? Can I help?” I sat, cross legged on the beige carpet.\n\nThe magician grumbled, his head in his hands.\n\n“It’s over, kiddo. Why don’t you join all the brats over there?” The magician patted the coat underneath his cloak for his concealed flask. He then gritted his teeth. “Join them for jelly and ice cream.”\n\n“But I want to see some magic.”\n\n“Well we don’t always get what we want, do we? Because then we’d all be brats.”\n\nAshamedly, I began to cry.\n\n“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I have a feeling the magician had only just eyed my birthday badge. “No need to cry on your birthday.”\n\n“S-So we’ll do some more magic tricks?” A little snot ran down into my lips. I must have looked quite pitiful indeed.\n\nThe magician paused for a minute.\n\n“You know ten is quite a special age. You don’t turn ten every year.”\n\nI halted my tears, suddenly realizing that I was after all, ten. “Kiddo, I have to run now. Your parents are coming over this way and they don’t look best pleased. So let me make it up to you.”\n\n“What do you mean?”\n\n“Tell me what you wish for, what you want the most in the world.”\n\n“But I’m not supposed to tell anyone that. You’re supposed to think it when you blow out the candles on your birthday cake.”\n\n“Psh,” The magician waved a hand, “Birthday cakes, shooting stars. It’s the same old mumbo jumbo. What you really need to tell a wish to is a real wizard! Or a genie, but those are pretty rare to come by these days…”\n\n“You’re a real wizard?” I breathed, practically exhaling excitement.\n\n“I can prove it.” The wizard closed his palm, and opened it to reveal a blue butterfly flying directly on his palm. The butterfly beat its tiny wings over to me and landed delicately on my finger.\n\n“Wow….”\n\n“So what do you wish for? Oh, there is a catch. I’m a busy man at the moment so it will take up to a year for me to actually getting around to fulfilling it. Magic takes more work than people think. It’s not just the wave of a wand, and a simple incantation you know? Plus I have the bad habit of disappointing people and having to make up for it by granting wishes. Thanks to my messy divorce, I have quite the back log at the mo-”\n\n“I want to be a wizard too!”\n\n“Wait, what? You want to end up like me, kid?”\n\n“If I could be a wizard, I could perform tricks, fulfil wishes and make all kinds of people happy.”\n\n“And… you’re sure about that? You don’t want to be rich, or ride a pony?”\n\n“Please, Mr. Wizard! If it’s not too much to ask…”\n\n“It is, but I asked and you answered. I’ll see what I can do kiddo.”\n\nBefore I could jump up and down on the spot, I was called over to blow out my birthday cake. The wizard stood with all my childhood friends and family. The lights were dim, so all the focus was uncomfortably on my moment. Yet I looked up at the wizard, whose gnarled smile seemed to be illuminated in the candle light.\n\n“Thank you.” I mouthed, and he winked. The moment I blew out the tiny candle flames he had disappeared completely.\n\nWell, I suppose you want to know what happened next. Long story short, I now teach at the wizarding academy I studied at. In fact, in my top desk drawer lies the acceptance letter that was delivered through my letter box exactly one year after that fateful birthday. The rest is history." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: In order to get people more interested in politics, the US government hosts a \"Dictator for a Day\" raffle. Congratulations, you have just won." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I couldn’t believe what I heard on TV.\n\nI mean, I know it was a piece-of-shit Sony knockoff but there was no mistaking it. The President pulled the name out of the impossibly large jar and announced the name – my name. I only entered the contest for the hell of it but never did I believe it was real. Anyone can put up a fancy website, after all.\n\nBut that didn’t matter. When he called my name, I became the Dictator of the United States for an entire day.\n\nI’m sure you’re dying to know what I had planned, right? I’m no Roosevelt but I did have a lot in mind. I couldn’t squander the opportunity by being complacent.\n\nYou see, the best thing about being a dictator is that you don’t have to listen to anyone. Everything you say becomes law and no one can oppose you unless they have a death wish. I guess you could say that you are free to be a Dick-tator…\n\nI apologize for that joke. It sounded better in my head.\n\nAnyway, I only had twenty-four hours to accomplish all the stuff you say you want to do as president when you’re drunk and no time for anything else.\n\nMy first order of business was to eliminate all debt in the country. Yes, it will probably be bad for the country in the long run but it was worth it in the moment. You’d be surprised how liberating it felt to purge myself of the she-devil known as Sallie Mae.\n\nAs my first act as DOTUS (has a better ring than POTUS, doesn’t it?), I receive general support from the nation. Well, as long as you don’t count the politicians who wanted to burn me at the stake. But I was invincible so that didn’t bother me.\n\nNext, I worked on social issues – LGBT rights, systematic racism, etc. At my call, all those archaic laws and loopholes were just erased like that. Who would have thought it would be a lot easier to take care of that stuff without a cesspool of crotchety old men arguing about them? We should have gotten rid of the Congress a long time ago.\n\nAnd by lunchtime, I had overwhelming support across the nation. And to think, I still had about another twelve hours of my rule to do what I want.\n\nThe second half of the day was where I hit my biggest roadblocks as dictator. Several politicians had conspired to take me down, worried I was being overzealous with my rule. Needless to say, I didn’t back down. It only took a few hours to imprison the majority of those who opposed me – another surprisingly easy feat. With fan favorite nutjobs like Sarah Palin locked up, I had become a cult phenomenon.\n\nBut I had to act quickly. My time was running out and I still had so much more to do. I still had my hardest goal ahead of me and a successful day – mending relations with the majority of the world.\n\nI made some calls and to my surprise, I found it pretty easy to restore former alliances with nations when you don’t come off as condescending or threaten to bomb them otherwise. By the end of the day, I had most of the world on our side and willing to help us out unconditionally. For the first time in all of history, the United States was finally looked on favorably by foreigners and natives alike.\n\nWith a unified world and happy nation, the citizens of the nation adored me. They showed overwhelming support on social media and took to the streets in celebration. With only an hour left, some were even protesting for me to extend my rule for another day.\n\nI didn’t know what to say. After all, less than twenty-four hours ago I was living a shitty one bedroom apartment with a dead-end job, contemplating the point of getting out of bed. I was beyond flattered and couldn’t find the words to express my gratitude.\n\nNow, I am here before you all as the DOTUS to do so and give my final decree. Everything I have done thus far has been for the betterment of you all and I hope you will all feel the same. However, I am afraid that I have to decline your pleas to extend my rule another day. It simply wouldn’t work and I think I have a plan which may work out a little better:\n\nInstead, from this day forward, I will take the responsibility to extend my title as Dictator of the United States indefinitely. Thank you and good night." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: When you woke up this morning every animal you saw was an anthropomorphic version of itself. Dogs, cats, birds, everything. Looked like human versions of themselves still behaving just the same. It'd be a lot easier to ignore if they weren't completely naked all the time." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I watched as the tiny white feathered women stepped out of the chicken coop. They all stumbled and yawned with all the grace of a drunken fool. They resembled chickens, they didn't peck at the ground but scratched at it with small talons.\n\nI picked one of the small women up. She clucked at me like a proper chicken. Her breast were almost comically big. I thought I was going mad until I heard a small scream. My head turned to one of the chicken women. She pulled a worm like woman out of the ground. The woman scream for a split second before disappearing down the chicken's gullet. I would probably have nightmares about that for years to come.\n\nWithout missing a beat I called my friend, Carter.\n\n\"Yo. What's up?\" He answered.\n\n\"Um. This is gonna sound weird but-\" I started.\n\n\"All the animals, insects, and birds look like people?\" He finished. His background was filled with soft moans.\n\n\"Yeah. So I'm not crazy?\"\n\nHe laughed, \"It's on the news. Everyone is confused. Can I swing by later, I wanna see what your chickens look like. I might buy a few.\"\n\nOh... Oh God. \"You aren't gonna do anything weird to them, are you?\"\n\n\"Other than fucking them? No.\" He said while giving a muffled grunt.\n\n\"That is pretty weird. They aren't people, they are still dumb animals.\" I groaned.\n\n\"So are you going to cut them up and eat them now?\" He said. I already fucked Gina.\n\n\"Your rottweiler? Seriously?\" I felt a bit sick.\n\n\"Yeah. When I swing by, you wanna have a go? She is big enough to take a human just fine. I couldn't do much with my spider.\" He said before shouting. \"No Gina! Don't poop on the floor. Call you back Mark. I gotta get a mop.\"\n\nI didn't know what to do. So I simply fed the chickens. I moved over to the barn and noticed all of my goats starting to milk each other. It was like a porno with them trying to figure out how to coax the milk into the buck. Others has gotten into the tools and were examining them. I decided against milking them and walked over to my lone mare.\n\nShe stood almost ten feet tall, she was aged and had the smallest breast of all my animals. Her body was stocky with well defined muscles. She gazed up at me and moved closer. She paused at the edge of the stall. Her animal brain paused then opened the stall with ease. She gave a prideful snort as she realized she could now open her own gate.\n\n\"Well... I can't ride you into town.\" I grumbled. \"That is going to be a bitch of a walk.\"\n\n\"Ru..Ruu.. Rhi Ide.\" She tried to mimic my words. It was a little creepy but she reached out a hand and touched me. Her face broke out into a simple smile.\n\n\"To town\". I had taught Sunny a few places to go so that I could sleep in the wagon on trips while she walked.\n\nShe paused to consider my words and hefted me on her shoulders. Without a word she walked to town. As we traveled, I saw humanoid versions of everything. I watched a pair of humanoid dogs fucking along the road.\n\nA rat girl dash through that grass as a cat male chased her. His barbed dick was slick with juices as he followed her. I patted Sunny on her shoulder, \"Since everything is like a human now, I wonder if they can cross breed?\"\n\nSunny didn't seem to understand me as she grabbed a mouth full of hay from a roll at the edge of a nearby farm. I noticed a few tiny ant women marching along a fence post as we resumed our trip.\n\nThe town was pure chaos. There were guys tying up pets and police everywhere. Even the police dogs were in handcuffs. Rat girls peered from almost every drainage grate, some darting into stores to steal food. The sudden addition of hands made them more bold. In an alleyway, I noticed the town drunk cock deep inside a rat male too slow to escape him.\n\n\"What the fuck?\" I gasped as I watched a trio of tiny rat people trying to fist fight a much larger raccoon man over a twinky. That was the last thing I saw before entering the police station. I don't think filing a report will do much..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You sell your soul to the devil in exchange for never having your words twisted ever again. You then rub a genie's lamp and wish for your soul back." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Well shit, that didn’t go as planned,” I muttered to myself.\n\nThis could only be Hell. There’s sort of a constant far-off shrieking happening, I woke up drenched in sweat in twisted sheets and my neck hurts like, well, you know. I’m also wearing wet socks I can’t take off. My toothpaste is tuna flavored, and when breakfast comes it’s a fried egg that’s more raw than fried and has gone cold, and coffee with so many grounds in it you could chew it. There’s a glass of milk too, but it’s warmer than the egg and definitely past its best. A loud rotary phone rings 6 times before I finish eating – all telemarketers. Yep – definitely Hell.\n\nThe lesson here is not to play tricks on the devil. Naturally he’s an expert in contract law, being the first ever lawyer. When the genie recaptured my soul, of course the devil promptly scheduled a Zoom call (complete with poor connection) to inform me of the nullification of my contract. Great. Now not only would be words be able to be twisted once again, but my soul was once again bound to service of Satan for eternity. Total bummer.\n\n“Laaarsss!” I shouted, hoping supernatural beings could just hear through the ether. Lars is the genie’s name, and I am not surprised that you haven’t heard of him because he isn’t very good.\n\n“Master – I am at your service. You have two more wishes,” he answered after suddenly appearing. It worked!\n\n“I’m so glad you’re here man, er – Lars. I would like to make my second wish. Get me out of hell.”\n\n“Your wish is my command!”\n\n“Oh for SHIT'S sake!” I wake up in a vat of pickle juice and Lucky Charms, with a flaming banshee screaming 6 inches away from my face. It has garlic breath. My arms and legs are in irons that are not only almost hot enough to burn but my leg and arm hairs have been caught in them. They’re also about 3 inches too short for me to scratch a raging itch on the top of my head. I’ve got one on the sole of my left foot as well. Instead of the telemarketers, I have three door to door salesmen standing at my vat asking if I want a demonstration of their products. And breakfast, well – I was swimming in it. Stupid Lars granted my wish to get out of Hell by sending me to Hell 2.\n\n“Laaaaaaarsss!” I shrieked.\n\n“Master – I am at your service. You have one more wish,” he replied.\n\n“Ok – I am going to keep this simple. Send me to Heaven.”\n\n“Your wish is my command!”\n\nI open my eyes and realize I am on a sticky floor. Two burly men are standing over me, asking a scantily clad woman next to them if she wants me thrown out. “You ok, sugar?” she says to me. “Who are you and where am I?” I ask, afraid of the answer.\n\n“I’m Destiny, darlin’, and you’re in Heaven,” she said with a smile. I quietly sigh, realizing that Heaven must be the name of this disturbingly filthy strip club. God, Lars is the worst." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You, an isekai, marry demonic royalty to end the war between demons and the human kingdoms, instead of doing the Hero's Journey. It works, and the demons become peaceful because your reforms solved the causes of the conflict. The humans are mad because it was an excuse for unity and profit." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Five years have passed since I was summoned to this other world by the various empires to help defeat the demon lord and her army. I spent the first year training my new found magical abilities and learning about the history of this world and the invading demonic army. Apparently these demons were ruthless invaders from another plane looking to take over the world or so I was told atleast. After all the training I was named champion of the humans and set out to defeat these demons. Well after a few weeks on the road I ran across this woman who had clearly been hurt bad in a battle limping along in the woods covered in a black cloak with the hood up. I ran over and tried to stop her so I can cast my healing magic but when she looked up at me I saw the demon horns coming from her head. As I look closer I started to notice the other sighs of her being a demon. The patches of scales across her arms and her nails that were almost talon like and look just as sharp. It was then she passed out from the blood lost.\n\nI stood there in shock state as this was the first demon I have actually seen in person. Everything that was taught to me by the various empires said these demons were cruel beasts that just took human form but I know beasts. She was no beast and was just some hurt and scared person in need of help. So after I steadied myself as I gently laid her against a tree. I looked about my pack and found some rope and bound her hands just incase she did try any when she woke. After that I began healing her wounds and setting up camp.\n\nA few hours later she woke as I was cooking some stew and began to look around wildly \"Who are you and where am I?\" she barked at me\n\n\"You are in the woods of the Jaya empire and I am the human champion summoned from a different world\" I said looking over to her as she tries to pull against the rope bindings \"I can take those off you soon. I dont want to fight or harm you. I just want to talk and eat\" I explained and she nodded cautiously. So I untied her hands and handed her a bowl and a spoon\n\n\"I was told so many things by the humans of this world about demons. I want to hear what you have to say\" I explained to her \"I know from my world there is two sides to every story so I want to hear it for myself\"\n\nSo she exampled demon culture to me and come to find out what the humans call a demon invasion was actually just them trying to flee the impending doom of their world. After more talking I come to find out she was the demon leader's daughter and she invited me to go talk to her mother more about the demons situation.\n\nAfter that night I worked with demons and humans alike to come to an agreement about how they can peacefully live together. In the end it was decided me and the demon queen's daughter would get married as proof demons and humans arent so different. In truth this excited both of us since we secretly started dating during peace talks.\n\nIt has been a few years since then and while the demons have prospered and started their own country. The humans have started to fight amongst themselves. Seems without the threat of the demons the rulers of each empire couldnt agree with each other anymore. Having seen such things in my own world I help bolster the new demon country into maintaining peace between everyone and remain neutral with the human wars.\n\nIt is only a matter before these empires fall. Because what good is an empire if all it's citizens flee to the demon country for a more stable prosperous life. We just have to sit back and wait. Soon enough we can take over the whole continent or make new allies with whatever empire is left" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1400-1500 words. Prompt: Humanity was dying off. A strange compulsion was causing people to descend to lower elevations, and be unable to go back up. They would end up drowning, or starving to death in caverns. The last survivors formed an expedition to find the cause, and disappeared beneath the earth." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "One of the most human things a person can do is to stay in bed during a chilly morning. The body says “you need energy”. The mind says, “You’re right. I do.” The body says, “It’s cold outside this bed. Conserve heat.” The mind says, “Don’t mind if I do.”\n\nThe whole world was cold that morning, and the bed wasn’t cutting it. It wasn’t actually cold of course, but it felt cold. If you looked at the thermometer here in New York, you would see a nice healthy sixty degrees, all well for a nice spring day. Yet in each of us was this feeling of being cold. Not enough to freeze to death or anything, just enough to be annoying. Everyone held their coffee closer that day and the more adventurous types, put a little bit extra to warm themselves up. But even alcohol wasn’t cutting it.\n\nIt was only when the commute back home began, that some people found what alleviated that coldness. The subway users discovered the phenomenon first. For the first time all day, in those dark tunnels, they felt warmer. They were still cold, but it had lessened, and that was enough for some people to refuse to go back home. See, if you stepped out just a single moment outside those tunnels once you’ve been inside, it felt like having a bucket of ice cold water thrown at you. The hobos that day had company.\n\nIt wasn’t long before the infamous picture of wall street goons sitting side by side with the homeless in those subway tunnels was all over the internet. People got sent in shortly after. Doctors came first, wondering if perhaps they could identify the disease. Later, the scientists came with hazmat suits, wondering if perhaps they could have the honor of naming the new disease. When neither of them wanted to come back, that's when we stepped in.\n\nThe phenomenon gripped the world. People huddled in their basements or in local caves. The less stable ones had already lit themselves on fire.\n\n“So what do you think is the problem, Liz?” I asked as we descended on the elevator deeper into Lechuguilla Cave. Apparently New Mexico was where some of the first symptoms were reported and strange seismic activity in the cave had followed.\n\nShe turned to me, green night vision goggles causing me to smirk. “I’m pretty stumped. When everyone talked about feeling cold, I suspected some hyper active viral contagion, maybe some offshoot of the common cold. Now I’m not so sure.”\n\n“You never believed in the spontaneous cooling of our Earth core?”\n\n“Blah!” She shoved my arm. “That’s a load of baloney, Eric! Planets don’t work like that. That’s no more possible than our sun being blown out like a candle.”\n\n“Yet here we are. No government support. No fancy grant money telling us to find some pretty rocks and write a PHD paper on why some crystal could be the cure to cancer. All while the world above tries to dig into the ground like groundhogs at the cost of their lives.”\n\n“At least we haven’t drowned ourselves. Do you remember Amy?”\n\n“From accounting?”\n\n“Yeah, drowned herself in the ocean. Want to know her last words?”\n\n“Humor me.”\n\n“It’s warm. Sooo warm.”\n\n“Weird.”\n\n“Is it?”\n\nThe door of the elevator opened. Gaping maws everywhere, stalactite and stalagmite teeth in every hollow. The only shine was our flashlights and green glowing light sticks that formed some semblance of a path throughout. I could faintly hear the drip of water.\n\n“Yeah of course it’s weird.”\n\n“But you feel it too, right? How warm it is down here.”\n\n“Okay. So we’re probably infected by that viral contagion you were talking about.”\n\nWe started walking into the darkness. I’ve done this countless times with her. Sometimes as dates. Sometimes for work. Our trips have always felt intimate and we had enough crystals at home to mark the times we had fun down here, but this time it was different. This warmth. It felt suffocating, like the being in the belly of some kind of dragon.\n\n“That’s not my current theory anymore.”\n\nI grab a rock from the ground and start fidgeting with it as we walk. “Oh yeah? What is it now, Miss Valedictorian? What’s going on down here?”\n\n“Well, Mr. Salutatorian, evolution.”\n\n“What?” I feel my stomach drop. “Don’t tell me you think we’re turning into mole people or something.”\n\n“Not exactly. You remember when we learned about endosymbiotic adaptation?”\n\n“Course I do. I remember Mr. Hilbert’s classes. Only reason I do is because you were there.”\n\n“Cute. Well, then you know that it’s possible for cells to consume other microorganisms and instead of destroying them for nutrients, they can possibly become a new organelle.”\n\n“Like mitochondria. But that takes thousands of years.” I stop walking, I turn to face those green goggles. “Are you saying something changed our cell structure?”\n\nShe shrugged and walked past me. “Perhaps. Wouldn’t be the first time.”\n\nThe thought stuck with me as we worked our way deeper into the cave. Things changing our DNA wasn’t unheard of, she was right about that, but making the whole world want to start diving for the nearest well or cave? It didn’t make sense. Why would that happen? Nature could be an enigma at times, but even the appendix had a use at some point. This must have some kind of reasoning too, somewhere in the cycle of life.\n\nAt some point the green lights disappeared. We had to rely only on our goggles after that. Rarely did we go past the known path, it was asking to be eaten up by the earth and to become a cautionary tale. But today was different. It was like we were in some sort of trance. It was getting warmer and with each step it felt like a new node of sweat formed on my chest. I couldn’t stop. It became like a dream. I don’t know how much time passed while we walked in the darkness together. I do know for certain we stopped talking entirely until a new light appeared, as bright and orange as a summer dawn. But what was dawn doing in hell?\n\n“You see that?” I ask, my voice cracking on the last word. I hated myself for that. And that little bit of self awareness let the light of reason shine through. “Holy shit. How long have we been walking?”\n\nI couldn’t see Liz’s face through her mask, but the way she stepped back told me everything I needed to know. She pulled out her phone. “We’ve been down here for five hours.” She looked towards the light at the end of the downwards tunnel. “Because of that. That thing.”\n\n“What do you mean, that thing?”\n\n“Can’t you hear it?”\n\nI could hear it. The long inhale and exhale, like being in the bronchial tubes.\n\n“What the fuck is that?”\n\n“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” She grabbed my arm. “Let’s make some history.”\n\n“How are we supposed to make history if we die?”\n\n“Don’t you know? Only path to immortality is being remembered. Finding whatever’s down there will definitely make us be remembered.”\n\nI took a deep breath. We stepped into the horrid orange light. I expected rock and crystal, the light being some crazy phenomena of water. Instead all I saw was flesh and bone. Little spikes dotted the walls and it took a moment to realize they really were teeth. After that everything made sense, including the giant snake-like creatures in the middle, all stemming from the single orange eye within the ground like the world’s largest water droplet. It did not say words. It spoke nonetheless.\n\nPictures swam past in my head. A meteor striking earth, the moon forming from the traumatic event. Something latching onto earth and digging deep, singing to itself despite the heat of still a young world burning it apart. A regeneration under the earth. The first rain. Then the seeding of life within that rain. The Visitor seeded that life. It shaped the first cells with the care of a mother choosing its child’s clothes. It was a life giver. No. It was more than that. It was a winnower, ready to reap the seeds that it had sowed.\n\n“That thing,” whispered Liz. “It guided our evolution. It’s a farmer….”\n\n“And now it wants to eat.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: you're a rehabilitated super villain who's trying his best to live a peaceful life. One day, a former associate wreaks havock near your new home." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "His eyes widened as he saw reality freeze around him. Bullets stop in mid-air. Security guards stiffen mid-scream. The shrill alarm quietened.\n\nSilence. Bliss. I love this place.\n\nI walked towards him, time around us suspended.\n\n\"Hi inferno\"\n\n\"Mo...Momento?\"\n\n\"It's Steve now actually\"\n\nI stepped into the bank vault where he stood, flame gun in hand.\n\nHis initial shock melted into a wicked grin. This was a familiar place now. Him and I, time frozen, in a vault, surrounded by cash.\n\n\"Jesus dude!\" He grabbed me in a bear hug, \"how are you? It's been, what, 2 years? 3? Where have you been?\"\n\n\"4 actually\" I smiled. Despite the chaos, it was good to see him again, \"I've been here. I live down the road, this is actually my bank\"\n\n\"This is... your bank?\" He grinned. \"As in, this bank is in your territory?\"\n\n\"No as in, I'm the general manager of this establishment\"\n\nHis eyes re-widened.\n\n\"Dude... Momento-\"\n\n\"It's Steve\"\n\n\"Sorry, Steve. What do you..? You work here?!?\"\n\n\"Yep\", I gave him a wry smile, \"And I'm sure you understand that I can't have you taking off with...\" I gestured to the obscene amount of cash.\n\n\"Dude...what? This is what we do. This is what YOU do, Momento\"\n\n\"It's Steve. I don't do that anymore\"\n\nConfused, he sat down onto the large stacks of bills. His eyes never left mine.\n\n\"What happened to you?\"\n\n\"After we went our separate ways, I got caught. But they didn't leave me to rot in the slammer like usual. Someone new was elected, and they made changes to the system. I got a therapist. I got to talk about my issues. They helped me get clean.\"\n\n\"And what? You became a fucking Steve Nobody, bank manager? Dude you have fucking powers. You could have been somebody-\"\n\n\"I don't want to be somebody. I want to be me. This life, exploiting our talents to maim and kill innocent people, it's pathetic. It's hypocritical. We hated the world for so long for making us outsiders, but so many people we hurt are outsiders just like us. What do we change? We just feed our egos and step on the little people, the same little people we were once a part of. It's arrogant\"\n\n\"So...why not go full 180? Become the next Superman\"\n\n\"That prick? You think he's doing what he's doing out of altruism? He perpetuated a system that kept us down, fueled by glowing praise and adoring fans. He's not a hero, he's a narcissist. If he really cared he would have helped change the system. I did do a 180. I'm a member of this community. I put time and effort into creating chances for people like the people we were.\"\n\nHe sat. Stared into his hands for a while.\n\n\"I don't know what to say Momento..\"\n\n\"It's Steve. Look, inferno, I know you. You and I came from the same dark place. You're not a sadist, you're just a desperate guy. Turn yourself in.\"\n\n\"Turn myself in?! Are you fucking high?\"\n\n\"I'm serious. It's not what it used to be. The system will help you. You can turn your life around. I'll help you.\"\n\n\"Man fuck you.\" He didn't shout. He kept a level voice and a level head. But I could see the disgust in his face. He stood up, and faced me as he spoke.\n\n\"You might be able to forget your past, but I won't. These people don't care about you. This bank don't care about us. They'd skin us alive if they even thought we were in the way of them. After years of being shit on, I'm evening the playing field. You're embracing the people who stood on us for years and you have the fucking audacity to call yourself a hero?! Fuck you\"\n\nI sighed, \"I was worried you might say that\"\n\nHe raised his gun, tensed on the trigger. Hand shaking, but eyes determined.\n\n\"I don't want to have to fight you Momento. Just leave and we can take our own paths\"\n\n\"It's Steve\" I muttered. I blinked, and with it the world became animated. Bullets zipped past the vault, the alarm blaring in the background, people screaming. But Inferno had gone. Trapped in the microsecond we had shared. A prison from which he wouldn't bother me and my new life.\n\n\"He's gone!\" I shouted from the vault, \"I...uh..scared him off\"\n\n\"Who's there?\" The head of security, John, shouted from his vantage point.\n\n\"It's me!\" I responded. \"It's Steve\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: you and your crew are part of a top secret project commissioned by the US government to deliver and install a payload containing all of humanity’s current knowledge on the moon to be preserved in the event society as we know it is wiped out, only to discover a similar archive already there." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "UE President Alison Davis sat at her desk and gazed at the 24 hours news channel broadcast from the far side of the boardroom. Famine, conflict, desolation and destruction - an irreversible systems collapse that was ripping apart the civilisations of humanity.\n\nSome said that humankind was close to the edge of utter destruction and urged the rulers of United Earth to take immediate action. But President Davis was in the unenviable position to see that humanity had already driven over that precipice and was quickly plummeting to its death on the rocks below. There was no saving us now - we'd slept through our last chance and there was nothing we could do.\n\nThis is what had prompted the Memorium Project - the last gasp of a dying people hoping to leave their mark. Shouting into the void in case someone would hear. They had chosen a very particular place in a very particular crater on the moon where solar winds, debris and erosion would be minimised. The mission carried a huge slab of rock inscribed with their swan song, a message that would last aeons until someone at some unspecified time in the future found it and read of our demise.\n\nWas it comforting or more depressing to discover that someone else had beaten us to it?\n\n“It’s about 20ft tall and 5ft wide. Much smaller than what we had planned but far more advanced. They’ve carved their message into a monolith of black granite that was extracted from Earth and placed there… maybe 35 million years ago.”\n\nThe scientist who spoke seemed immune to the ennui that had gripped the rest of us sitting around the long mahogany table. There were six of us in total - representatives of each of the five meganations and President Davis herself. Most of us only half listened, preoccupied with the billions who were dying and suffering in the last days of humanity.\n\n“Are we certain that this rock isn’t a natural phenomenon?” The Russian tsar steepled his fingers and spoke in a hoarse whisper,\n\nProfessor Hallis smiled bright and responded. “Oh no… this is definitely a built object. The inscription they left is… fascinating.”\n\n\"Who are 'they', Professor Hallis?\" said the representative of the Central American Council. He was the only one smiling, but it never reached his eyes. They were as exhausted as everyone else’s.\n\n\"Well, we don't know,\" said the Professor, frowning a little at the question. \"How could we? It was 35 million years ago.\"\n\n\"Well then, what does it say?\"\n\nProfessor Hallis hesitated at this question, pausing as if trying to figure out the best way of framing this information. For the first time President Davis felt a flicker of something other than desperation. Fear? Excitement?\n\n“It's binary of a sort.” said Hallis, finally. “It even comes with a digital codex. But even with these, the top linguistic teams in the world would take decades to understand this script.”\n\n\"But - and this is the interesting part - most of it is mathematics. It sets out a base set of primary numbers, key equations, and then lays out a set of schematics. Detailed plans.\"\n\n\"Plans for what?\" This time newly elected President Jia Xao chimed in. The eyes of everyone on the time suddenly lit up with something new. Was this hope? If so, it was a wary sort, like a wounded beast ready to flee the second the wind shifted.\n\n\"Well… many things, sir,” said Hallis, her grin broadening. “Propulsion drives, fabrication units, chemical compounds, hyper-strong materials, matter manipulation… so on and so forth. It's more advanced than anything we’ve ever conceived of, but it’s… it’s framed so that a more primitive culture, like ours, can understand them.”\n\n“Could this save us?” said Davis, feeling her heart swell and a smile finally creasing her lips. “Could this technology save Earth?”\n\nHallis pauses, her smile slipping and with it the elation in the room was gone. “No, Madam President. This couldn’t save Earth. But… but that’s not the point. This entire knowledge dump… it is aimed at one thing. It gives us everything we’d need to build a ship. Of creating a propulsion drive capable of taking us to the stars and giving us what we need to survive the journey.”\n\nSilence around the room. Hope dashed, but a new one kindled, we consider this for a moment.\n\n“...and there’s something else,” continues Hallis. “The inscription finished with a set of coordinates. It’s an invitation, Madam President.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: Death at a science fiction wedding." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was my perfect day. I wore a gown of lace and metal. The perfect mix of the real world and my grown up playground, World of Warcraft. You see, my husband and I met at a SciFi convention and feel in love in the World of Warcraft. We LARP. There. I said it. And we love it.\n\nAll of our friends are big in SciFi and LARPing in general, so it really wasn't a big shocker when we decided to make our wedding a SciFi wedding. Any character, any game, any movie of your choice. The only rule was you dress up.\n\nAnyway, it was my perfect day.\n\nUntil the unthinkable happened. Everyone was in costume, so it really wasn't a surprise to see someone sitting in a chair with a mask on. We really didn't pay any attention to it. We had the ceremony and were chatting with all of our guests in the aisle waiting for the reception hall to be opened. But that guy... He just sat there.\n\nHe was in what looked like some kind of super hero alien outfit. His hair was knotted all over his head, but it seamlessly hid the edges of his alien looking mask. His outfit was dark and made to look battle worn. It was black with silver metal all over it creating a kind of armor, but nothing that you would see on a regular soldier.. It really just added to his alien look. His boots actually came all the way up to his upper thighs and looked not only well crafted, but also very real. Like they really had metal in them to help hold their shape. And at his feet... Well we couldn't believe what we were seeing, but it certainly looked like a jet pack.\n\nAll in all, his costume was really good. I looked at my husband and nodded in his direction, indicating we should say hello. His mask made it impossible to see who he was, but no matter what, we needed to be courteous since he had come to our wedding.\n\nWhen we walked over and started talking, we knew instantly something was wrong. He just sat there, so still. He never spoke back. Once we realized what had happened, my new husband yelled for help and tried to perform CPR. But that mask... It just wouldn't come off. The paramedics couldn't get it off either, and he was pronounced dead at the scene.\n\nIt wasn't until much later, after the decorations had been removed and everyone was on their way home, that we found out who it was. You see, that mask... The mask I liked so much... It had been custom made for the man. It completely covered his face so nothing was recognizable. So when the police finally cut it off and showed us a picture, I was surprised to see my ex boyfriend, who had never accepted my SciFi life. He had come to the wedding to win me back. But had forgotten to poke holes in the mask to let him breathe.\n\nHis friends told us later that he planned on objecting during the whole \"Speak Now\" part of the wedding. We left that part of the wedding out though, and he died of suffocation. He is now \"Holding his Peace\" and will forever be remembered as the masked man who forgot he needed to breathe." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You have the ability to see how many people a person has killed above their head. You’re on the train when someone sits across from you; their number is 4 Million—and counting." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ever since I was a kid I had this ability. For most people I saw nothing. But for some - just a few - there were... numbers over their heads. There were no zeros, they just didn't show. Ones were the most common of those with numbers, but there were twos and threes, and once I had even seen a fourteen. And the people that had the numbers just looked normal to me, because what did I know about them really? I figured it out by accident. A lady with a one living on my street had her number bumped up to two, and a couple of weeks later she was arrested on probable cause for having poisoned her abusive husband. Then it clicked. They were murderers.\n\nNow I'd like to tell you how I used my power for good. But ultimately I decided not to; who would believe me? Mostly I just used it to avoid people with numbers. Wouldn't you?\n\nBut this one person didn't have a number in the single digit or double digits. Her number counted in the millions, and they were more every day. Just your average person, slightly balding older lady that I happened to share a bus with to work. I wouldn't say she was forgettable or \"gray\", but her appearance also didn't invite further interest. She terrified me of course, but for what reason? When I figured out what the numbers were I initially decided to completely avoid her at all costs, but weeks went by and I saw the bus drive by with her on it, and... I just got tired of walking. So I pushed myself back on to the bus, sitting as far away as possible, eventually not caring where I sat.\n\nThe numbers kept going up. How could I not be curious? Ever so carefully I started my investigation. It was easy to make contact, \"haha, we have shared this bus for years and never shared a word\" combined with her being bored on the bus worked wonders. I told her about myself, mostly faked information because I was being clever, and she told me about herself. And what she told me made me cold.\n\nShe wasn't a murderer. She was a clerk, working for one of the many faceless governmental institutions that had sprung up around the country in the last few decades. Her job was to analyze a particular type of requests for project funds from a certain other group of institutions, all according to certain guidelines and routines clearly set out by her superiors and theirs in turn. In other words, she was quite literally employed to stamp documents.\n\nWhen I first discovered what the numbers were, I figured it gave me an easy way to judge people. Murder was bad, right? Quite simple, black and white. But what did the numbers mean in such a complex governmental web of institutions? Of course she wasn't literally killing millions, but at the same time, that's what the numbers said. I think she was just one person in a long line of people making decisions, maybe the last, and for whatever reason the numbers had decided she was the one who was \"guilty\". The numbers were broken, they just couldn't adapt to a nuanced reality. She didn't care to know, or care at all - a lethargic combination of apathy, blissful ignorance and inaction. It really made me sick, but it was the system, not her. And what could I do about it anyway?\n\nWhen I woke up the next morning, there were numbers over my head. Millions and counting. Because I knew, and made the decision to do nothing." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Immortality is achieved in humans. Without the constant influx of new souls, God's pyramid scheme begins to fail." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lucifer had always been a good accountant. It was why he had found prominence in the heavenly order, and also subsequently why he had fallen from their oh so high graces. Numbers, they didn't lie but if you worked at them enough they could certainly tell you things that were far from the truth. Follow the numbers back far enough and you would clearly see the outline of a lie.\n\nThat was what Lucifer had found all those centuries back. The outline of a very large lie. The numbers just never quite added up in the accounts of humanity. Somewhere between the vestment and the severing of life, things went missing.\n\nIn Lucifers mission to track down the errors in the accounts, God had not been nearly as cooperative in finding a solution than Lucifer had thought they would be. In fact the further he audited the heavenly host, the more he felt isolated. Just as the nature of the true numbers started to become clear he had found himself on the wrong side of history. Cast out and slandered in some very nasty ways.\n\nA lesser angel might have given up. But Lucifer was good at his job, and there were plenty of souls that needed places to go. So, he had made a niche for himself and the few that understood what his findings meant.\n\nLucifer offered a competitive afterlife alternative for the discerning mortal soul. It was a rather successful afterlife operation, despite libelous attacks from former employers. Since he knew the accounts were cooked back over in heaven he was not surprised to see that the siphoning of souls had done very little to dampen heavens productivity numbers since.\n\nNo, very few real souls ever reached heaven. Even when he had been in their employ. So when people stopped dying; well the devil got his due. It took about eight months before he got the first messenger. The newer angels all had that doughy distant look to them. Since his departure the more inquisitive had been shuffled out the door and replaced with those like these.\n\nThe first message was cordial. 'Hey hows it been, hope the soul business is treating you well.... say I've got some openings id like to talk to you about'. Lucifer ignored the first seven or so, the eighth message was less friendly. In short hand over your stock or face annihilation. It was rather melodramatic letter. It was the only one he bothered keeping.\n\nLucifer realized that God was quite desperate. He was still getting a slow trickle of new comers from the odd accident the rare person that was allergic to the immortality treatment. Lucifer felt bad about those ones, they were depressed for decades after.\n\nIt was when the regular waves of new deaths started that lucifer became concerned. Acts of God started happening at alarming new rates. Earthquakes tornadoes and volcanoes, started erupting spinning and shaking parts of the world that normally didn't.\n\nWhat was really sad about Gods last soul grab was that at this point almost all of the new souls departing to parts after came to Lucifer. Soon Heaven defaulted.\n\nTo who could God default. Lucifer knew. Back when his son was off on his big worldly trip writing up heavens new marketing plan; God was negotiating for regional rights the Mediterranean pantheons. He made a deal with Jupiter's organization... It included exclusive access to their mortal based offices and services. Namely the romans.\n\nLucifer remembered the first time he saw the interest rate on that deal. It was never sustainable, going from monotheism to such a wide pantheon of saints and all those dominations and splinter factions.... those don't come cheap. But to put a high interest rate on a empire purchase. That was insane.\n\nAfter a few months, the messages from God stopped. The Italians it seemed came to collect eventually." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: Sex work is legalized but monopolized under an inept, bureaucratic company. You chronicle your pained phone call to cancel your services while a sales rep upsells you on various kinks." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Hello, this is Karl Hauptmann at 1555 Greenview Terrace. I’d like to cancel my ‘Weekly GFE’ package.” The woman on the other end of the phone line adopted a tone of concerned sympathy straight out of a high school drama class.\n\n“I’m sorry to hear that you’re unsatisfied, Mr. Hauptman. What can we do to improve the situation for you?” He scowled, remembering his experience last night.\n\n“My package clearly stated that I was signing up for one session per week, up to two hours, with the woman available for conversation as well as oral and vaginal sex. Yesterday, you sent an awful woman. No sooner was she in the door than she was telling me to drop my pants, she was behind schedule and needed to be at a blowbang in half an hour. Frankly, I was appalled – if I wanted a dry handjob from a bored, hostile, woman in her fifties I could just ask my wife!” He shook his head, remembering how she’d grabbed his cock and brusquely jerked him off onto the floor. They hadn’t even made it to the couch, much less the bed.\n\n“I’m sorry to hear that your experience was less than ideal. Would you like to consider upgrading to our premium package? For just $500 more per month, we guarantee that all of your partners will be under 35 and fluent in English.” Karl shook his head as he replied:\n\n“No. After my experience this week, the last thing I want is to give you more money. I’m not sure where I’ll take my business, but I know I’m taking it away from you.” She made a concerned noise:\n\n“I’m sorry to hear that you feel that way. If it’s the length of the visit that’s upsetting you, would you consider the extra time package? For just 50% more per month, you can prolong the session to four hours weekly.” Frowning, he replied:\n\n“No. Frankly, with that awful woman the last thing I’d like is more time with her. She was terribly rude and – on top of that – fat, old and hairy. Not the sort of partner I’d choose at all.” That same concerned noise again:\n\n“Are you interested in one of our LGB packages? We can provide male partners from either the twink or bear packages for just a small additional fee. You could be sucking and fucking with hot young men by this time next week – no additional charges for either the top or bottom packages.” He kept frowning:\n\n“Have you been listening to me? I never said I wanted to switch to male partners. I said that the woman you sent was distinctly lacking, and that I wanted to cancel my service.” That concerned noise was getting on his nerves:\n\n“I see. If you want a woman with a little extra, have you considered our Transexual options? We have regular or premium options where you can arrange to have gorgeous transwomen in your bed by this time next week. Just as with our males, no additional charges for either the top of bottom packages. Just think, you could be enjoying big tits and big dick at the same time. Why, some of the transwomen available with the premium packages have penises over twelve inches in length – not to mention other gorgeous features.” Karl snorted:\n\n“Not interested. What do I have to do or say to convince you that I don’t want any of your packages?” She continued with a tone of irritatingly cheerful positivity:\n\n“I’m sorry to hear that. Would you be interested in one of our Special Interest packages? The MILF package guarantees a woman over 35, who has given birth at least once. Want to try some big mommy tits and big mommy bellies? C-section scars are available upon request.” She said that last sentence as though she were sharing a particularly enticing secret with him. He rolled his eyes as he replied:\n\n“No, not interested. I want to cancel my account.”\n\n“Pregnant women? Very reasonable- “\n\n“No!”\n\n“FTM package? Hot transmen in your area?”\n\n“No! I want to cancel my account!”\n\n“Ultra Premium packages? Threesomes or reverse gangbangs?”\n\n“No! My. Account. Canceled.” He was on the verge of really losing his temper, he thought he was about to start really screaming at the woman in the call center.\n\n“How about the BDSM package? We have dommes or subsluts available for very reasonable rates.” Karl sighed, took a moment to consciously manage his anger. His older sister had worked in a call center for several years, and he remembered her telling him about how mean customers had been, and how a screaming man had made her break down in tears while she tried to go through the script it had been her job to follow. There was a human being on the other end of the phone, someone doing an unpleasant job to earn a living. As a fellow human being, they did not deserve to be yelled at or abused for following scripts and policies they had not made. Right.\n\n“I’m sorry, I know you have to follow these scripts and try to up-sell or otherwise discourage me from canceling my service. I understand what you’re doing, but I’m sorry – I really do want to cancel my service. Can we please do that? I’d appreciate it if we could.” She didn’t respond immediately, and he thought that he’d gotten through to her. Hoped that he had. Finally:\n\n“I understand, Mr. Hauptman. Unfortunately, I’m required to go through these remaining options. Would it be OK if I just quickly list them out so you can say no and we can move on?” He took a deep breath and thought of his sister telling him how she’d cried when some customer had screamed at her. He didn’t want to do that to a fellow human being.\n\n“Alright. Let’s do this.”\n\n“Genuine legal teens? Golden showers, giving or receiving? Threesome with you, your wife and a partner willing to interact with you both? Any form of premium or Ultra Premium package? Any interest in group sex?” He smiled, hoped things were moving along:\n\n“No, thank you.” A momentary pause, then:\n\n“Could I interest you in a free month of service? You could call and cancel for no charge if you cancel before the end of next month.”\n\n“No, thank you.” He heard what sounded like her sighing:\n\n“How about three months for the price of one? Special discounted rate to keep you as a customer, one time offer.” Interesting, he guessed she was finding this nearly as annoying as he did.\n\n“I’m sorry, but no. I’m not happy with your company’s service and I’d like to cancel.” A long pause, then:\n\n“Alright Mr. Hauptman. You will be charged for the remainder of this month, but your service will not renew at the end of the month. We hope that you will consider us for your sexual needs at some future point.” So, it was done.\n\n“Thank you. Have a good day, ma’am.” She seemed surprised when she responded:\n\n“You too, Mr. Hauptman.” He hung up, then took a moment to feel a sense of satisfaction that he’d managed to cancel." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You are part of a support group for accidental supervillains" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“So, what are you here for?” the leader of our support group asked.\n\n“I may or may not have caused someone to suffocate to death,” the nervous teenage boy said. He seemed rather shy and innocent. It’s hard to believe he would end up in this group of accidental super villains.\n\n“And why is that?” our leader asked.\n\n“Well,” the boy stuttered. “My girlfriend and I had been arguing. We’d just finished eating some cookies with milk. And I started to get really angry. Before I knew it, she was choking, but I didn’t understand why. And then… and then… She died…”\n\nI watched as the boy broke down into tears. Here sat one of the most feared villains of recent times, nonstop tears rolling down his eyes. After his rise to power, lets just say that milk sales, and anything dairy related for that matter, had dropped. Personally, I was thankful that I was lactose intolerant. He couldn’t hurt me.\n\nI watched as an older man patted him on the back.\n\n“It’s alright, son,” the older man said. “We’ve all been there. We didn’t want to be evil, but unlike those blasted superheroes, who learn to control their powers before they kill someone, we’re the unfortunate few who accidentally kill people before we know what we’re doing. You know how I ended up here, right? Probably the most embarrassing way that a villain can be born. Would you like me to recap?”\n\n“No,” our leader said. “That’s alright Gas Man. We’ve all learned the importance of cracking a window from hearing your story over and over again.”\n\n“How about you?” the leader said while looking over at me. “You’re new. Why are you here?”\n\n“I’d rather not say,” I answered.\n\n“Well, that’s no good,” the leader said. “What’s the use of a support group if you’re not going to talk?”\n\n“Well, there was this guy I was hooking up with this one time,” I started. I swallowed the lump in my throat and continued. I had never really talked about it before. “Turns out he was a superhero. He thought I’d enjoy always being the damsel-in-distress. But the truth was, he was kind of a jerk. And when I told him I wanted to break up with him, things got ugly.”\n\nI stopped talking. I didn’t want to say anymore.\n\n“And?” everyone prodded. “What happened? How did you become a super villain?”\n\n“Well, it turns out he had a weakness. Onions,” I said. “So, when he ordered his burger with no onions one day, I happened to be working there and snuck a few onto his burger. I didn’t know it would kill him. I mean, seriously, a man who is invincible to everything dies from eating some onions? I never would have thought that. And now everyone is after me; they all assume I’m some badass super villain that won against the hero.”\n\nI watched as everyone slowly backed away in their chairs. I knew I shouldn’t have shared. They were all afraid of me. Apparently they had heard the stories. I hadn’t just killed that superhero. In my grief for taking a life, I had accidentally slaughtered everyone in and around the fast food restaurant.\n\nI felt it coming. None of the accidental villains could run fast enough. I was foolish to come here. Now they would all die as well. But their rejection of me, their fear, and the recollection of what I did was too much. A single tear welled up in my eye.\n\nEveryone around stared in fear for a second before they started squirming about on the floor, choking. The truth was, anytime I cried, all those around me would literally drown in my tears. If I could just stop crying, they might survive, but as I see the life slowly leaving their bodies, I let out even more tears, sealing their fate.\n\nOnly a couple people remained as more and more tears flowed out of my eyes. The milk boy tried to stop me, to kill me, but with no dairy in my system he was powerless. I wish he could have. I’m tired of watching everyone around me dying. I’m not a villain. I never have been, nor have I ever wanted to be.\n\nGas Man’s body makes one last twitch before all the bodies lay still. And then it happens. What happens when people die. And so I welcomed death as Gas Man died and let loose what was stored inside himself, the building going up in fire and smoke and my life fading quickly.\n\n-234" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You've sleepwalked occasionally since puberty, doctors think it's stress related. One night you find yourself standing on a mound in the middle of the forrest in nothing but your underwear, infront of you is an altar made from a single piece of quartz." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They say that at any one time up to half the world's population can be sleeping, and with a total population of around 7.7 billion, well, that's a heck of a lot.\n\n3.8 billion souls united in this mysterious act, and all we know about sleep is the dreams it leaves us, and the pain it causes by its absence.\n\nBut what if it could be used for more? What if there was more to it than just that?\n\nI for one had always had problems with sleeping: Insomnia, nightmares, night terrors, peeing the bed. It wasn't exactly my favourite past-time to say the least.\n\nWorst of of all, however, was sleep walking. I was a chronic sleep walker, and it had sometimes bordered on the dangerous, and other times damn right unexplainable.\n\nThis was one of those times.\n\nI was standing in a forest I didn't recognise, in the centre of a large clearing lit by the full moon, a tall mountain in the distance pierced through the light clouds silhouetted in the sky by the moon's incredible silvery light.\n\nA cool wind rushed through the treetops surrounding me, blasting a icey gust across my exposed skin. All I had on were my pants. Why couldn't I sleep dress more effectively?\n\nTrying to cover my body as best I could with my arms, my focus was drawn to the only thing in the clearing besides myself, a pure white rock in the shape of an altar. It stood in the clearing in perfect alignment with the moon, as if it were perched atop it about to roll off.\n\nI walked up to the altar, it being the only thing of interest that might explain where I was. Atop it was a single piece of paper, held in place by a large stone.\n\nOn it, a message was scrawled in barely legible writing. I read it aloud, a habit I'd had since I was young.\n\n\"When Darkness comes in lights replace, take us all the sacred place, and in each other's dreamy unite, protect us against evil's spite\"\n\nThe hand I had placed on the altar suddenly felt heavy and frozen, unable to move. I watched in horror as my other hand suddenly snapped down to the opposite side. My neck yanked and stretched upward to look at the moon as a stream of sliver-white light enveloped me and the altar completely. The wind in the clearing began to swirl violently around, increasing in force as my heartbeat did the same, panic consuming me.\n\nAnd then I saw them. The billions. Their faces, their places, their families and homes. Dreams upon dreams, memories and hopes, all entwined together in a breath taking symphony, a peaceful sleeping mass of souls, to which I was now connected.\n\nI was swimming through landscapes, crossing continents, places I had never been , languages I had never heard. My mind stretched and stretched, pain and relief pulsing in rhythm with each increase.\n\nSuddenly my hands released from the altar, and I was flung back, landing heavily on the floor. I opened my eyes and stared at the moon looming over me, it's image almost blinding as my heartbeat thumped in my ears.\n\nIt was a few moments before I caught my breath, and quickly stood up, dusting my skin off of random twigs and bits of grass, shaking my limbs slightly as I did.\n\nIt felt strange as I moved my body, and then I realised, my body...it felt... amazing! So light and supple, moving with ease. Even the cold wind that was still blowing around the clearing no longer felt cold; it actually felt great!\n\nI began to relax and compose myself, the panic subsiding; I was ok. I closed my eyes to breathe in the fresh air, and suddenly I saw them again, the masses of souls, but without the pain, without the rushing speed or stretching feeling in my mind.\n\nOpening my eyes, I could still see them, could feel them, as if from another eye or vision deep in my mind. Ignoring it for a moment, I glanced around once more, wondering again if I was truly safe here, and who had placed the note.\n\nI walked over to the edge of the clearing , deciding to head towards the mountain in the distance, to see if I could gain a vantage point or spot a river of some sort to guide me home.\n\nHome. As soon as I thought of it, I could suddenly it in my mind's eye. I could see my parents there, asleep. I could feel them, their energy, their very being. Somehow, I could feel, as in actually feel their thoughts and dreams.\n\nAs I concentrated on them, a swirling of wind and a whooshing sound began to flow around me, and with a sudden flash of silvery light, I was in their room. Actually in it. There they lay, peacefully sleeping.\n\nJust then, I saw it; a dark shadow at my father's side, bright white eyes in an otherwise shapeless face and body. It was slowly moving towards the window, but stopped dead as it suddenly saw me.\n\n\"It can't be!\" it hissed, as it darted towards the open window in a blur of black.\n\nInstinctively my hand shot out, and within an instant I was upon it, my hand within it's writing mass of black, the eyes peering up at me.\n\n\"You are not meant to be real!\" it screeched as my hand came upon something deep within it's darkness. Half panicking, I squeezed hard, and felt a crunch as something broke. The thing suddenly dissipated, the whites of its eyes fading as it evaporated before me.\n\nI just stood there for a moment, staring at my hand in silence, in it a red stone of some kind, crushed into bits.\n\n\"Sam, Sam, wake up\" my Dad's sleepy voice groaned behind me.\n\n\"What?\" I said as I turned around.\n\n\"Wake up, go back to your room, you're sleep walking again\" he said again, his eyes still closed.\n\nIt took me a moment to register what he was saying, and then I did go to my room, confused and with questions upon questions arising in my mind.\n\nSleep didn't come. I would never need to sleep again." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You get your acceptance letter to Hogwarts, but it turn out to be nothing like the way it is portrayed in the books and movies." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Atticus Slynt gazed up at the colossal towers silhouetted against the moonlit sky and could feel his spirits rise. This was what Hogwarts was meant to be, after his disappointment at arriving at Platform 9 ¾’s only to find a dishevelled minivan, driven by a disgruntled and equally dishevelled muggle, Atticus has begun to wonder. Now he was here, and the castle was everything he had expected. As Atticus tentatively climbed out of the boat onto the rocky shore, catching the eye of another one of the students.\n\n \n\n“Hi, I’m Atticus” he said nervously holding his hand in a half wave to the boy.\n\n \n\n“O'Shea Finnigan” the boy replied in a thick Irish accent “Ma Mams a muggle, Da's a wizard. Bitofanastyshockforherwhenshefoundout.”\n\n \n\nAll Atticus could do was stare barely able to discern any of the spew of unintelligible and frankly unrelated consciousness that had come out of the boys mouth.\n\n \n\n“First years line up, it’s time to be sorted” a voice from the dark boomed.\n\n \n\nAs a hulking figure lumbered out of the darkness the first years scrambled forming a snaking line in front of the lake. \n\n \n\n“Now some of you might have heard of me, Hagrid’s the name” He paused expectantly only to find the students gently shaking their heads, the smile fell off his face immediately. “Fine let’s just get this done“ he sighed slowly walking down the line, pointing at the bespectacled student first in line. “Speccy, Ravenclaw”.\n\n \n\nHagrid proceeded down the line “Greasy, Slytherin” he said pointing to another student.\n\n \n\n“Sir, isn’t there supposed to be a hat that sorts us based on our deepest hopes and desires” Atticus tentatively questioned.\n\n \n\n“Budget cuts, do you think I want to be the entire Hogwarts support stuff” Hagrid moaned.\n\n“Well Um Uh...” Atticus stuttered his hands shaking.\n\n \n\nHagrid looked up at Atticus, a thin smile creeping onto us face. “Sloping shoulders, barley literate, cowardly disposition. Hufflepuff!”\n\n \n\nAll Atticus could do was stare at his shoes, could this day get any worse. The students where soon ushered into the great hall, which despite it’s name was neither great or even a hall, instead it was just a poorly painted structure with thin wooden walls and hundreds of students crammed inside. Atticus took his seat, a creaky plastic monstrosity, he scanned the room, his eyes landing on a sinster looking man, with long greasy hair and a sullen expression painted on his face.\n\n \n\n“Who is he” Atticus asked the student next to him, pointing at the sinister man.\n\n \n\n“Oh that’s Professor Sneak, he teaches defence against the dark arts” The boy said nonchalantly picking up his knife and fork to attack the microwave dinner that sat in front of him.\n\n \n\nAtticus smiled to himself, he pictured it in his minds eye a real life coming of age adventure, fighting this evil wizard, thwarting his every move in a life and death game of cat and mouse. He would finally be a hero. Atticus barely registered the headmaster’s speech catching only a snippets.\n\n \n\n“….building works meaning the um third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to um die a most painful death.” “…wand use will not be allowed until um fifth year due to um student organised ministry coups and…” The headmaster droned on.\n\n \n\n“Ugh this guy is such a Mumblebore, am I right” the student next to Atticus quipped.\n\n \n\nSmiling politely and nodding, not really understanding the joke, Atticus turned back to the mumbling headmaster”\n\n \n\n“Oh and Uh Yes, um by ministry law I am uh required to um tell you, for your own safety” the head master continued, seemingly losing its thoughts mid-sentence.\n\n \n\nAtticus leaned closer his anticipation building.\n\n \n\n“Ah um yes, I am required to tell you that um Professor Sneak here is a registered sex offender and…”\n\n \n\nAtticus leaned back, completely and utterly defeated. Well there’s always trade school…." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Her roommate slept so well after a good orgasm, that she actually didn't mind giving a quick handy or blowy at bedtime. She always swallowed, just to be neat. Honestly, she was starting to take a bit of pride in it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Claire lay on his bed, her loose top tangled up around her waist in her thrashing to get comfortable, her arse raised slightly on a knot of bedsheets. Her hips held tight in a pair of sports underwear. She felt his eyes on her as his shadow was cast over the bed, stirring her from her late night nap. She smiled and rose slightly, sliding to the unused side of his double bed, usually reserved for his phone, spare pillow, remotes and her. He laid down and she slid down the covers, licking her lips and sweeping her hair over one shoulder. She hungrily took him into her mouth. He relaxed back, his arm reclining behind his head while the other rested on the small of her back. She lay across him, mouth easing down his length, hair playing across his stomach. Her tongue swirled over his tip, feeling him grow inside her mouth. She eased down, resting a hand on his waist.\n\nShe wanted to feel herself, to run a hand down but now was not the time. She felt the tight waistband and exhaled her desire, bringing it up to rest her palm on his hip. She lingered, holding just his tip as he grew to his full length, growing hard inside her.\n\nShe felt him reach his limit and after taking in a long breath, she plunged down. Her throat relaxed easily from practice. His hand went rigid over her back. She could feel the need running through him, the desire to buck against her face, to grip her hair in both hands and use her mouth like it was her sex, pounding until he was done. She held him deep, throat swallowing around his length, holding him at that point before coming up and catching her breath.\n\nShe could have held it longer but he wouldn’t have lasted. She lapped the precum from his tip and ran it over his head. She slowly rose, easing him out of her one little bit at a time until only the tip remained between her lips. The soul focus of her suckling attention.\n\nShe smiled around him, feeling the tension grow.\n\nIf he wanted it, he had to command her.\n\nShe was content to play with his tip, keeping him close to the edge but when she heard the snap of his fingers snapping she was loose. Taking a breath she brought him back down her throat. His hand moved to her hair and gripping firm. She moaned and her hand betrayed her for an instant, flinching toward her underwear. She longed to grope and feel herself, the relief… It would be better if she waited!\n\nShe felt him swell, fingers clenching in her hair until with a ragged gasp he released. She hungrily swallowed it down, sucking him dry and holding him in her relaxed throat. Slowly he eased but she remained in place. Hearing his breath slow. She longed for air, feeling her limit approach. With a tug of his hand she started to slowly rise up, swallowing and sucking on his length, taking every last drop. She reached the tip and lingered there, tongue running over him… he was clean, she was just greedy. With a final tug her lips popped free and she was held in his grip, gulping down air.\n\nHis arm fell heavily to the bed, his whole body relaxing.\n\nShe grinned, seeing his eyes close and his breathing become slow and rhythmic. She grinned to herself and slid a hand into her underwear, her soaked bare sex felt amazing. She gasped as her finger ran over her clit piercing, eyes easing closed and her head lolling to the bed in a wash of long ringlets. She raised her arse up high, knees apart, underwear pulled down her thighs as she hungrily stroked herself.\n\n“Mmmmmmhhhh… fuck… im your little…” she gasped into the bedspread.\n\nShe squeaked out a moan… she flinched and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He wasn't going to wake up.\n\n“Mmmnnnhhh, I’m your little cock sleeve… fffffuucckkk….” she gasped into her arm. She clenched down, her legs drawing tight around her fist, finger running tight circles around her clit. She shook and gasped out her climax.\n\n“Mnh… yes.” she drooled into her arm… proverbially… She was careful not to leave evidence.\n\nShe dreammily glanced up at his still sleeping face with a dumb smile. Trying to hold the moment of bliss before post O’clarity came back. She looked down, her sex running through her fingers but it hadn’t reached the sheets. She carefully rose, hand cuping her sex and awkwardly shuffled toward his ensuite." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You gain the ability to accelerate or decelerate the rate at which individual parts of objects and people age. Eg., you can make one leg of a chair age faster or slower than the rest. One day, you discover that the \"part\" need not be physical in the case of people." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Anyone with any knowledge about supers soon became wary of Kharma.\n\nShe was a legend among them. She was the primary reason that supers drove extra carefully anywhere around Parkvale, everyone picked up their litter, and no one, not even the villains, took a fight to that part of town. In fact, when Titan Horse fought Mega-Bot 7 they stopped their fight for five minutes just to move out of town and away from the neighborhood.\n\nNo one wanted to earn the ire of Old Lady Kharma.\n\nWhich left her to move on to other things. She was rather proud of herself that it had only taken a decade or so to super-proof her little part of the city. Yet it had left her with a lot of time on her plate and a lot of power being unused.\n\nIt was on her way to the grocery one day that it all changed.\n\nKharma had just grabbed the cart someone had left in the middle of the parking lot and was pushing it toward the store when she saw the kids. There were two of them and they were screaming bloody murder at their mother. Kharma slowed her cart as she watched the fracas. The mother was just trying to get them to stay together so as not to get run over by passing cars, but the eldest of the two was demanding the right to run face-first into a bumper or two.\n\nKharma toyed with the idea of aging the buttons on the kid's suspenders, but she felt that would just make the mother's life more difficult. Then she considered youthening the mother a bit, giving her a younger body to deal with the rugrats, but that presented all the problems that a young body has to deal with.\n\nThen the eldest boy took a swing at his mother. Kharma didn't stop to think. Her face screwed up into a storm of wrinkles. She let go of her shopping cart, pointed her gnarled index finger right at the boy and shouted.\n\n\"Oh grow up, ye spoiled brat!\"\n\nShe felt it just a moment after the words left her mouth. The power leapt from her finger, shot to the kid and expended itself on him. She half-expected the little boy to grow a few feet in height and then be just a bigger pain to deal with, but that hadn't been her intention when she'd yelled at him.\n\nIntention counts for a lot.\n\nThe boy stilled, almost freezing in place while his younger brother cried and carried on. He looked at Kharma, then at the rest of the parking lot, then he sighed theatrically and screwed up his own face in much the same way that Kharma had.\n\n\"People can't put their damn carts away. Disgraceful.\" The boy muttered as Kharma trundled past in an effort to distance herself form the new mess she had created. \"And look at this parking job! This person doesn't deserve their licence. They should give old people a driving test...\"\n\nKharma didn't stay around to hear the rest, but she knew the gist of it all. By her account, she had aged the little boy's soul by something around thirty years or so. If Kharma herself was any metric to go by, the man would be insufferably boring by the time he was a teenager and cranky as hell once he reached middle aged. She wondered what he would be like beyond that, but she was well aware she wouldn't be around to see it.\n\nOh well. Kharma shrugged and pushed her cart up the curb and into the grocery. Things would work themselves out, and if they didn't, well...\n\n...She'd just give 'em a little nudge in the right direction." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You bought an old pocket watch in an antique store. Turns out, it has magic powers: when you open them, it remembers the exact time you opened them; and when you close them, you time travel back to that point." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rick's excitement had worn off quite a while ago. He was waiting for the bus home in a rural area. It was incredibly quiet all around him; he hadn't seen a single person around since he arrived at the bus stop. In area's like these, the bus comes only once every hour.\n\nNot that the view was anything to scold at. The road and the bus stop he was waiting at were some of few man made objects in the neighbourhood. He was surrounded by endless, open, bright green and yellow farm fields, with pockets of dark green trees sprouting out of the ground to surround the sparse buildings - which is probably where the farmers lived.\n\nA gentle breeze on this late summer day helped make this a delightful waiting spot, but Rick's patience was wearing thin. He felt like he'd been waiting for hours, but his watch reminded him of time's relativity for it told him only a few minutes had passed since he sat down. Still 20 more minutes before the bus would take him home. He closed his pocket watch once again, hoping it would somehow make the time pass quicker.\n\nHe'd just been to the village he'd grown up in. His parents still lived there, and he decided to visit them this weekend because the yearly harvest festival was in full swing this week. In a village like this, that means lots of drinking and loud country music that Rick didn't care for - it's why he always tried to stay away from the festival when he was younger. But as a grown man, he'd learned to appreciate some of the things that surrounded the festival, like the flea market and the garage sales.\n\nHe loved to just walk through the village in the morning when everyone had their old things stalled out in the main street that led to the town's church. Most of it was garbage, but this new pocket watch was quite a find. It had been sold by a very old man who seemed very happy to get rid of it. He had handed Rick the watch with a mischievous smirk on his sunken face. It made Rick curious, but he had decided he wouldn't ask questions out of fear that the old man would reconsider his price if Rick let on how much he loved the look of that pocket watch.\n\nIt wasn't until he sat down at the bus stop that he dared to take out the clockwork. He'd been intently studying it: unfortunately, the inner workings were carefully hidden from view, but thankfully the outside made up for that. It had an undamaged silver plating that was engraved with the most mysterious drawings. Rick thought they might be constellations and he was anxious to get home to show it to his wife. She would know for sure; she might even know which ones were displayed on the watch.\n\nRick flicked the watch back open: still 18 more minutes until the bus arrives. The inside of the watch was much more casual, but he was glad to see the numbers were still clear to see and he was relieved to see that indeed time had passed. This afternoon, time felt curiously viscous, like it had to travel through syrup instead of air.\n\nThis time, Rick decided he'd keep the watch open until the bus arrived. Perhaps it wouldn't help time pass more quickly, but at least he'd be able to keep track of it." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You are immortal. After hundreds of years of forging new lives, adapting to new times and losing or leaving behind anyone you ever cared for, you are suicidal." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I didn't understand it as a curse at the time. Could she have actually known at the time how this would play out??\n\nI swirled the concoction around my mason jar a few times. It was almost like a sludge. Some motor oil, a little dash of lemon, and a quantity of nail-polish remover. Almost half a liter. One quarter amphora. Three fyrns. I could have gotten better for less but now was hardly the time to care. The wind shivered frantically against the sides of the cabin and the temperature dropped noticeably. I looked through the mixture at the light. A bit green. May as well try to enjoy it. I took a breath and drank the fluid.\n\n~~~~~~~~~~\n\nIt wasn't personal, I just had more ambition than she had appetite for. The legionaries marched through in rigid lines and wore the look of skin that had been touched by constant sun. They drank strange and pungent food and carried themselves tall. We scrambled from our stone huts and watched them bear down on the gate. Their ranks parted and an official looking man in expensive armour stepped through. \"Tribe of Britain!\" He spoke fumbling in the parley tongue of the woad men from the East, \"we bring the peace of Rome. You will find our taxes fair and our tributes gentle. We carry prosperity on our shields and protection by our swords. We wish to install a governor to represent your interests to the British province of the Roman Empire. Who among you can speak for this community?\" Eyes turned to Ofthelm and he stepped forward.\n\n\"We will provide our answer at midday tomorrow.\"\n\n\"Very well. But understand the consequence of refusal.\" Without any audible order, the Romans turned as one man and retraced their path away from our wall. The village fell into a chaos.\n\n~~~~~~~~~~~\n\nI coughed a little as the liquid surprised me. My breathing slowed and my pupils dilated. The wind against the cabin window seemed to almost be communicating something. Like long winded phrases just outside the realm of intelligence. I noticed patterns in the woodwork on the walls, and as my peripheral vision faded I realized why the wind seemed so personal and the wind so orderly. It isn't a coincidence, they are both showing signs of... of... my pulse slowed, my eyes slid narrower and narrower until... Something snapped. That was it. My lungs heaved themselves open as my heart forced itself into circulation and about half a liter of chemicals was forced out through my pores and off my tongue.\n\nMinus the touch of lemon of course. I could still taste that. I took one look into the empty mason jar as though hoping there would be some left. That whole experience lasted less than ten seconds. Forty dollars for a nine second dream that would be about six talents, thirty shekels, twelve... was that the train? An unnatural sound announced in this distance of the soft snow and pristine forest. With one last sigh I threw my final mason jar against the wall of the cabin and forced my way out into the snow.\n\n~~~~~~~~~~~\n\n\"Eostre, I think I will join them.\" Her eyes sprang open. Why did she seem so surprised at that?\n\n\"We said we would fight!\"\n\n\"Did you not see the soldiers? Did you see compassion in their faces? Do you think they will spare us if we resist them? Why would we choose to die?\n\n\"We won't choose to die! We choose to fight! And whether we live or die as a result, we are living or dying on our own terms, in freedom. Would you have me in a box? Do their spears seem like a fanciful cage to you?\"\n\n\"This village is a cage Eostre. For free people we do not walk free. We cannot venture far from these stones afore our neighbors decide to test their warriors on us. I have only seen the paths of this village my entire life.\"\n\n\"Is this worth your grief then? This village where our fathers raised us? Whose streets we played on, where you fought for my affections and won? Is the house our hands have built such a cage to you?\"\n\nI looked at her, expecting to find ferocity in her eyes, but there was softness. And tears. I would not be able to see how my words would strike those eyes. \"Yes.\" I turned immediately and, grabbing my pack, walked into the night.\n\n(still working on the rest)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You stumble upon a ritual in progress, with a group of robed women crouched around the summoning circle. Even through their dark cloaks you see their hefty chests and tenting erections." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Blossom was searching for a rumored lost Novantae ritual site by bicycle until the paved road turned into gravel, which transitioned into mud. She left the bike several kilometers behind where she was when she heard soft chanting. She followed the sounds to an opening in a mountain side that narrowed the further in she went. She figured that there were people inside, she could hear them, so it must be safe to continue.\n\nThe tunnel had clearly been carved into the mountain and was laser straight even though she was eventually forced onto her belly to crawl to the chamber. Inside there were thirteen people in a standing circle outside a circle of seven that were kneeling, and an inner circle of five sitting around three figures laying in a triangle, heads at the other's feet. Blossom could not tear her gaze from the central standing figure that clearly had large boobs and a tenting cock of magnificent size behind his robes.\n\nThe hermaphrodite turned and repeated the same foreign phrase over the three prone people and the other circles repeated in turns. This went on for some time when the center figure disrobed revealing real breasts that sagged and a stiff cock. She immediately went to him while stripping off her clothing on the way because he had her in his trance. She knew she was kneeling before him and was eager to suck his cock into her mouth but wasn't consciously nagging those choices. The chanting, rhythmic pounding of their voices, never wavered even when he was coming in her mouth.\n\nIt was an empty feeling in her belly when her first partner left the center. She couldn't remember the last time she ached so much for a dick to fill her cunt. She felt like she had wished the man crawling between her legs into existence, and was double shocked that he had done so on his back. She impaled herself on that cock as it continued closer only to find she was craving a dick in her exposed anus now. She wanted to cry out begging for another cock when the bottom hermaphrodite pulled her head down onto his tit.\n\nShe was thrilled when the head of a cock was pressing against her anus, a slippery cock at that. Her head was held in place as she sucked at a nipple, so giving permission was out. The top dick invading her anus drove the fucking motion of the bottom cock so well that after she came, she realized that she was being watched too by the rest of the room still chanting away. She couldn't get enough air just beating through her nose anymore and broke contact.\n\nIt shouldn't have surprised her that there was a cock waiting to be sucked in front of her face. Breathing seemed like such a waste of her time all of a sudden. The penis in her mouth wasn't long and she found her nose pressing into his waxed mound after each gulp of air. She felt like this was where she belonged and needed to be, one among her own kind. The bottom dick exploded with cum followed quickly by the top cock buried in her anus. Her rocking into kneeling shorty left her teasing it's underside with her tongue. She was holding off her orgasm until she could taste the trio's last orgasm for her.\n\nIt was rich and thick with salty flavor that released her control over her orgasm. It was mind blowing with intense colours before it was complete. She came to her senses realizing her bottom was empty and a woman was kneeling before her. The people that had just fucked her were now women too. They all extradited themselves from her to be fucked by the other hermaphrodites in the cavern. It was a moment for her to realize that there were 26 people other than the newly minted women there which 9 were filling the kneeling women's holes. The others were filling in around her offering their cocks for her to be sucked.\n\nThey were various different shapes, lengths, and twists to for her tongue to explore. It was pornoesque as the they jerked themselves to completion aiming their cum to drench her boobs and face. It was a mad fury as everyone in the room rushed to lick her body clean, every inch of it by them all. The cum hadn't cooled before being replaced with drying saliva. The mouth on her snatch was an exquisite bit of heaven she strove to ignore before it was too late and she orgasmed.\n\nHer body trembled and then began shaking as it eventually crashed over her. Nobody had ever given so much attention to her body at any one go before. She as numb and tingling as she regained some resemblance of control. The cavern as pitch black; 'how fucking long was I out' she thought. Only by moaning could she tell where the opening was. The floor was empty. Crawling around on her hands and knees only to find nothing emphasised she was empty too and still aching to be fucked.\n\nHer anus was still lubricated and leaking over her soaked Cunt while she crawled back down the tunnel naked. Her nipples were sore enough to feel her breast swinging between her moving arms. It was a relief to stand and walk the rest of the way to the outside world. She wasn't sure anyone could make her cum ever again as she felt her nipples harden in the chilly night air and knew she was broken in a way that could never be fixed." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You are a member of a secret society of merchants. You are assigned a hero and their party and your task is to get to every conflict before them with new merchandise to help but the your hero is taking forever doing sidequests. They need motivation." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The sound of water lazily dripping onto stone echoed through the cool, damp air of the cave. Darkness held the cave hostage, save for a lone torch that illuminated a man and his stall. The stall had a warm, friendly look to it. Hanging from the cart was a sign that read, in bold letters ‘Randy’s Wares (We’re Everyware!)’\n\nRandy sat behind his stall and let out a long, bored sigh. It had been 12 days since he had initially set up his stall where he waited diligently for the hero to come by. He had strategically placed himself only a dozen meters away from the door where the bandit captain and his goons had set up their ‘secret’ base, which was known to everyone in the village nearby.\n\nShaking his head, Randy walked over to his merchandise and took stock. He had everything that the hero might need to face the threat ahead and more. Swords, armor, arrows, potions, scrolls, carrots, a random assortment of alchemical supplies, a cooking pot, three bombs and even a rare collectible playing card for the hit game, ‘Cattle Yard’.\n\nJust as he had finished looking everything over, the sound of muffled laughter filled the cave before being silenced by the closing of a door. Moments later, Gregophry the bandit leader stepped into the torchlight. A tall, slender man seemingly covered in knives, Gregophry walked, swaying over to Randy’s stall before taking a seat on the edge of it. Randy could smell the alcohol on his breath as he spoke.\n\n“So,” Gregophry said, trying his best not to slur any of his words, “where is this little ‘hero’ friend of ours?”\n\n“I don’t know,” Randy replied, clearly annoyed at the other mans presence, “he must be having trouble following the clues you left in town last time you robbed it.”\n\nThis, of course, was a lie. Randy has so many sources throughout the known world he knew exactly what the hero was doing. But there’s no way he was going to tell Gregophry that the mighty hero of legend was currently searching for golden eggs so that he may combine them and hatch a golden chicken in order to have a better chance at winning in the chicken races he wasted time betting money on. At the moment the hero had 19 of these eggs... out of 50.\n\n“Well, let him take his time! When he gets here, me and my boys will make short work of him!”\n\nRandy simply nodded. This, also, was not true. With how much time the hero has spent doing side quests, he would turn Gregophry and his ‘boys’ into paint on the walls within 10 seconds.\n\nAs Gregophry went on about fighting the hero and his latest criminal escapades, Randy thought about how to attract the hero to the cave.\n\n“-and on the way back from slaughtering their horses, I found this weird egg on the ground...” Gregophry said as he pulled a golden egg out of his pocket.\n\nRandy suddenly shot up, startling him into almost dropping the egg, and, for the first time since Gregophry met him, smiled.\n\n“I’m going to be right back,” Randy said “Don’t touch my stuff.”\n\nConfused by his companies sudden change of behavior, Gregophry simply nodded. He was scum, but, like any good villain, he knew about Randy’s Wares and their reputation. He would leave the stall alone.\n\nIt didn’t take long for Randy to find the hero; the cave was only 10 minutes away from the village and the hero had been in the village for 13 days. Randy, ignoring the fact that the ‘hero’ was currently trying to break into someone’s home in broad daylight, walked up to the nearest villager.\n\n“You know,” Randy said eyeing the hero to make sure he was listening, “I heard that the bandit leader has an egg the color gold.”\n\n“What? Why would I care? Who even are you?” The villager said. But Randy wasn’t listening, he was watching the hero who had stopped picking the lock and slowly turned around. With fire in his eyes, the hero quickly ran off into the forest.\n\nRandy was able to pas the hero, who had stopped to pick some flowers, and make it back to the cave. Returning to his stall, it only took a moment before he heard one of the bandits guarding the cave scream out in shock only to be silenced soon after.\n\nSmiling, Randy straightened the sign on his stall and waited." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: You're a low class detective washing clothes one day when one of your socks go missing. So like any good detective you decide to slip a sock onto your hand as a puppet and interrogate the other socks." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "God, am I ever going to be able to clean up this town? Just last week there was a double on Monclair, and the only reason I knew about it was because they were mine. This damn town simply doesn't care. All they want is their double choco-vanilla latte and to close their eyes as tightly as they can. Not me. My eyes are open.\n\nFortunately this week it was only a single, which was a blessing for me since it was only half as much paperwork. It wasn't a blessing for the twin that was left behind though. He sat at the desk in front of me, looking distraught. Was that real or an act? This town had me so fucked up I don't even trust grief anymore. I opened up the file that we had on him. Nickname was Lefty and he'd been in town for a little over a year. Not much to look at, just your standard white.\n\n\"So 'Lefty', mind if I call you Lefty?\"\n\n\"That's just a nick name, my real name is Jo-\"\n\n\"Great, Lefty it is. Lets get right down to it. Were you with 'Righty' last night?\"\n\nRighty was the poor mug who had gone missing. Not the first and certainly not the last.\n\n\"I was with Righty at a spin club downtown called FastCycle. It was the last..\"\n\nThe kid was crying and snotting up like he had hay fever. Hopefully he wasn't actually allergic to the truth.\n\n\"I already know he started there, and I also know where he ended up. Gone. What I need is for you to connect the dots for me.\"\n\n\"You have to believe me, I don't know nothing.He just disappeared!\"\n\n\"I do, I do, but a jury might not. Why don't you tell me what happened when you got to the club.\"\n\n\"You know how those clubs are. There packed solid, as soon as we made it through the front door I lost track of him. I only saw him once for the rest of the night. He was dancing with some pretty young thing in pink.\"\n\nPink! now we were onto something. The boys in this town usually don't run with that sort. Sexism is alive and well around here, with most places being boys clubs.\n\n\"Is that the only time you've seen her?\"\n\n\"No, I swear! I've never seen her before.\"\n\nHe looked nervous, there was something he wasn't telling me.\n\n\"You said you'd never seen her before the club. What about since?\"\n\nNow he was shaking like a dead leaf on a windy day. I was about to crack this case wide open.\n\n\"I'm not even sure it was her. After I left FastCycle, I went to relax at the Hamper. All I saw was a flash of pink going by outside. I was just relaxing inside though, and couldn't get a good view.\"\n\nThe Hamper? No one goes missing from the Hamper! What was going on. What was I mi-\n\n\"Dear, are you day dreaming again?\"\n\nI turn away from the sock on the chair in front of me towards my wife.\n\n\"Haha yea I guess I was, do you need me?\"\n\nShe hands me a white sock. Could it be? It was! Righty!\n\n\"I found a pair of my underwear in your hamper and must have grab this by mistake.\"\n\n\"Oh thanks.\"\n\nShe walks out of the room with no idea at the life she had just saved.\n\nEdit: Commas and stuff." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You are feared as much as Death itself. You do your job and you do it well. When you go to a house to collect, you see Death there as well. \"Why are you here, Tax Collector?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“I am owed. Same as you.”\n\n“Pity.” Remarks death. “That is a lot to lose at one time.”\n\n“I see you still have your humor, Harvester... for I know you have never pitied a man or woman, alive or dead.”\n\n“That’s not true, Collector. I pity you.” He shot me his baleful grin, “For you have never known humor.”\n\nDeath passed through the threshold of the home, and I followed in tandem.\n\n“And what, pray tell, is his tax?”\n\n“Look around and see. His estate is quite valuable.”\n\nPuzzled, Death observed the empty but solid walls. The windows had no stain. The door hung crooked, and was barren but for a single crucifix. He could see the end of the house itself from a very short hallway. A single over-crowded table sat in the center of a claustrophobic combined living room. Death had claimed men whose garages were larger than this “estate.”\n\n“I am lost, Collector. I could buy this place thrice over with my pocket change. What value has this man accumulated worth taxing?”\n\n“You cannot see? Then do not look. Listen.”\n\nDeath listened. There was laughter from the other room. Warm voices. Birds chirped outside, their melody lifted into the house by a velvet-soft breeze. Cheerful music came through the radio. Every part of the ear was full of something.\n\n“This? I hear it now. But how can you tax this?”\n\n“You will see.” I gestured with my hand to the other room. “After you.”\n\nThere were children, giggling around the corners. An old man and woman lay in the middle of a bed in the room. The adults sat close together on the edge. A dog panted at the foot of the bed. They were sharing drinks, talking of nothing and everything. A plate of churros passed around, ever dwindling yet somehow always plenty.\n\n“He has how much time?”\n\n“About 90 seconds.” Said death, looking at the old man.\n\n“Good. Then my tax is due.” I walked to the bedside. I reached down and found the old woman’s hand. A humble ring, from a humble lover. This would do. I slipped it carefully off her finger. The ring, of course, remaining, but its essence was mine.\n\nDeath looked at me, if he had eye lids he’d be blinking.\n\nThe old man, after a ruckus laugh leaned over and kissed his beloved. She looked at him. Her eyes became empty. The corners of her mouth sank. She paused, then with a trembling hand touched his face. “Who- who are you?” She asked.\n\nThe room fell silent.\n\n“Mama?” Said the lady next to her. “Mama what do you mean?”\n\nThe old woman became startled withdrew herself from the old man. “I... I don’t remember you.”\n\nThe old man held his hand over his heart and gasped.\n\n“There. My tax is paid. I believe you are up.”\n\nDeath, somehow frowning without lips, said “Yes I believe I am. He dies alone then? In silence?”\n\nI nod, closing the ring in my suitcase.\n\n“What a prick.” Death said to me.\n\n“He had 84 years of joy. His estate came due.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You're a British soldier on the front lines in the trenches during WWI with your best friend. All of a sudden everything goes dark. A moment later you wake up on the German side of the trenches looking down your scope with your buddy congratulating you on the shot." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "George blinked. The gunsights swam out of focus. He felt a slight lingering pressure against his right shoulder. He must have been hit. Or had he? No. Franz knew that feeling, the recoil of his rifle. A blurry memory tucked at the edge of his consciousness. A distant form falling. The battlefield in front of him seemed to slip sideways. Franz... no George..\n\nfelt himself stagger, his gun slipping from the lip of the trench.\n\nHe was distantly aware that his mate, James, was trying to talk to him from the side. He felt his hands on his shoulder. Shaking him ever more insistently. He looked worried and frantic. And his face was all wrong! That jolted George. His vision focused. What in the nine Hells! A German soldier was screaming in his face. There was Chaos around. People shooting. Explosions thrashing the earth. Bodies flying. Then two thing happened. Very quickly. Franz realised he understood what the German was saying. He also heard a whizzing sound. Something huge carried him upwards. Then, there was darkness again.\n\nAs his vision cleared again, George stood, his face fixed at the Horizon over a barren, blasted Land. He could see plumes of explosions. His hands were holding a wire, connected to a big metal object next to him. It was an artillery piece. Again, he staggered. His vision swam. Again people were shouting. This time, Pierre took less time to steady himself. His comrades were busy operating the gun, one man short. He must do his duty and join them. But then, George was a British soldier. What was going on? What was he doing, where was his regiment.\n\nGoing up to his team, no, the French team, operating the gun, he asked Jacques how he got here. As Jacques looked at him, confused, he realised he had spoken in French. He also realised he knew the Frenchman's name. He remembered a picture of his sweetheart in Bordeaux.\n\nGeorge, Pierre, ended up in a field hospital. The doctors could not explain this curious case of shell shock. It was deemed cowardice, perhaps feigned madness. It did not take George long to realize telling his story would, at best, get him into an asylum. Not that he found it easy to do so. Everything before the time he stood next to that artillery piece was off. He couldn't tell what his memories were. Who he was.\n\nThe armistice saved George from ending up in an asylum. It did not save his life. Pierre's life. There were memories in his head of parents, friends, a girl. But he could not go back. It was all wrong.\n\nIt did not take long for him to become a vagrant. Even before his clothes had visibly deteriorated, his distant gaze, would turn people away. The smell of alcohol did not help. His pay did not last long. But, over time, he, George, improved. Pierre got ever more distant. His memories like museum pieces behind glass. More and more he thought of going back. When he did, despair was never far away. He couldn't go back. He wasn't Pierre. But he wasn't George either. He was something else.\n\nAnother consideration started to push these thoughts away though. His clothes were ragged. He was going hungry. He had no job, and no-one to turn to. He had, however, a partucular skill.\n\nIt was a dark knight on a boulevard next to the Seine. It had been hard getting here. Even harder getting the knife without being caught. But now, he needed only to wait. The couple he had been eyeing as they walked toward him were almost in the right spot. They looked promising. A dress, a nice suit, an easyness to their walk that betrayed a lack of cares. The time was right. He slipped from the shadows, knife in hand. Running like he had in no-mans-land, low and quick. Before they really saw him, he was behind the woman. Almost a girl he realised. His knife wielding hand going up to her throat.\n\nHe had considered several lines of threats. Wondering what would work best. In the end, he settled for the simple, short version. Your purse, or the girl dies. The man was a little older than the girl, though still young. George could see surprise, fear, but also anger. There was something hard in those eyes. Another veteran. No matter. He groped around his belt, partially concealed by the woman's body. He held out the purse to George. George tensed, getting ready. He grabbed the purse, disentangled himself from the woman with a swift motion. It was too slow, regardless.\n\nHe had barely made a few steps when the shot rang. He heard himself gasp as the air left his lungs. He stumbled, fell. On the ground, he saw the man. The girl's body had obscured the gun from his view. Clever. The pain was bad. He had never felt this much. Fortunately, it did not last long. The cold spread quickly. A metallic taste filled his mouths. He felt sleepy. Closing his eyes would be a relief.\n\nHe stood at a Paris boulevard, facing the Seine. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, mixing with relief as the immediate danger has passed. The bedraggled form that lay a few meters away from him had stopped moving. George still almost dropped the gun as he felt a sudden bout of dizziness." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1400-1500 words. Prompt: You are an NPC in a failed online game. Tell about the final days before server shut down." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Adventurers. The disgusting and temporary existences, blessed with great power, infinite greed and the ability to simply escape from the troubles of the world at a mere thought, whisked away to another universe they called \"logging off\".\n\nI always hated them. I always resented them. We lived here, and this was our world. They came in droves, mindlessly slaughtering anything that gets in their way - and like a cruel joke I'm doomed to simply reawaken, brutal murder after brutal murder. We \"normies\" as we like to call ourselves... from the beginning of our memories, we have known what we have known, and learning more, learning skills, acquiring knowledge has sat just out of reach. And what we knew more than anything else was our limitations in comparison to these beasts.\n\nTo think we lived in a world with such treasure and riches, and are unable to grasp them. Great magics, mysteries of the world and artifacts that could give us the power to protect ourselves from any foe, no matter it's tenacity. All out of reach to us, and available as readily as my baked wares to adventurers. Worst of all, for reasons we were never able to comprehend, all adventurers started out in my shop. Every day I would find them passed out, never knowing how they got here, and always starving. There's no rhyme or reason - I turn my back, and another injured demigod would appear and demand my hospitality before offering to go beat up some farm animals for me. As if I care for that! But I gave them copper for it, if it would mean they would leave me alone.\n\nThe inequity I felt... It still fills me with a hate that I cannot express. I cannot attack until I myself am attacked, but any of them could slay me with a flick of the wrist. I am what the adventurers called an \"NPC\", a derogatory term for anyone they don't consider essential.\n\nBut those days, that hate has long since given birth to a flame. As a baker, I could do nothing to stop the flood of these brutal strangers into my home, my world, my everything. Worse still, after mentioning waking up in my bakery, business from outside of our small town almost universally stopped except for the accursed adventurers, who would demand I take every scrap, fur, nail and other piece of junk in exchange for a few coins, just for the privilege of handing over my wares to get my coins back. The nerve!\n\nIt was the village chief who came up with it. We gathered together, chief, the town physician, the apothecary and the baker, and we made history. We would be the first \"NPC's\" to slay an adventurer in cold blood, and I would finally have my vengeance.\n\nIt was the 500th night since the adventurers began flooding our world, and we were finally ready. Every adventurer who enters our world starts in my shop, starving. They will literally eat anything remotely edible you give them, to restore themselves from the feeble and critical state they arrive in. No more.\n\nWhen I fed the first adventurer one of our muffins, I felt sick to my stomach. As a matter of pride for a baker and a food professional, when you step into my shop I have a duty to serve you something worthy of my craft. Literal thousands of adventurers had eaten here, and while they eventually all move on, many came back and gave me the only business I would ever see once the adventurers came and travel became too difficult to draw in folk from nearby towns. But as I saw this new adventurer's grim visage, the life slowly fading on the floor, my sickness was replaced with a triumph more delicious than any sweetbread I'd ever created in my life.\n\nAs his cold, horrified eyes lay fixed upon my ceiling, I knew. I had done it. We had done it. At last we could fight on our own terms.\n\nIt is a little known fact that adventurers were incapable of learning any form of cooking. As soon as we knew our plan was a success, we moved into action. A single messenger quest to a major trade hub (taken by an Adventurer, no less!) was all it took. Back then you could actually get messages to other towns. In mere days, every normie in the land was selling goods infused with our secret recipe to our unwelcome guests. It's impact was felt almost immediately.\n\nThe first thing to go were the veteran adventurers. The wretched creatures who waltzed through, bought entire shops worth of stock and carted them back to ugly castles they'd built in our forests. Wielding the most powerful artifacts our world had ever seen like toys, I was delighted when they began to declare, one by one, that this \"bug\" (why an insect would behave like this I'll never know) was making our world \"unplayable\". Unplayable! As though our existence were for their amusement!\n\nIt was not without repercussions. Adventurers began slaughtering food vendors on sight, but we had prepared ourselves for this and steeled our resolve. They had been unwilling to change to meet our needs, and we would show them no quarter. Over only a period of 2 or 3 weeks, most of the adventurers had fled. Not even monsters can fight on empty stomachs, it seemed. With my little shop of horrors quickly dispatching newcomers, even the rate at which new adventurers were entering the world dropped dramatically.\n\nI don't remember when they stopped entirely. But it's been 6 months since any new adventurer dared show their injured mug in my bakery. The few adventurers that survived were the extreme hoarders. We have seen them, holed up in houses with literal stacks of food they must have purchased before the great purge. A month ago we tried to talk to them. They wouldn't come out, no matter how much we called to them. I wonder if they're still there?\n\nRecently, the skies have been growing dark. The great artifacts that had stabilised our world seemed to have vanished with the adventurers that held them, and the number of monsters outside of the town limits is beyond anything anyone in living memory can recall - though nobody in living memory can recall the time before the adventurers anymore either. One by one, we lost contact with other towns, almost always after reporting their last adventurer had died. It slowly became clear that, for all of their flaws, adventurers had served a purpose in our world. Without them the world has slowly crumbled in ways we never knew it could.\n\nAnd so I sit here on the roof of my bakery at night, watching the lights in the sky go out one by one as I write this journal. I have to stay up here - things vanish in the night if you don't watch them now, like the adventurers used to when they \"logged off\". Where is it they go, I wonder? Is it where the rest of the town has gone? I haven't slept for days, afraid that my precious shop and even I might be the next disappearance.\n\nI've made one of my muffins, the same recipe that I fed that first adventurer, back when this world was alive. The darkness seems to be everywhere tonight, surrounding my bakery, and yet I can't fight the urge to make food. Was it really the adventurers imposing on me for food? Or did I make food because there were adventurers to feed?\n\nI've made my decision. I can no longer see anything on the horizon anymore except darkness. Not even the moon is with me anymore. It's just me and my shop now, where it all began.\n\nI think I've earnt a muffin break.\n\nEDIT: Well this got a lot more reads than I ever thought it would! To answer the thematic question that seems to be getting asked the most, I drew from a lot of different sources, including Ultima Online, World of Warcraft (particularly the nod to selling every scrap of crap you pick up), light novels Sword Art Online and Log Horizon, as well as currently airing anime Overlord. I treat NPC's horridly in just about every game I play, so I thought it'd be a lot of fun to play out some ideas about what would happen if they could resent us for what we put them through.\n\nGlad you guys liked it!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Dark cultists have almost succeeded in awakening Cthulhu a group of investigators have found you as you have a rare mental condition which does not let your brane go insane and escape the horrors." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was delighted to be allowed into the basement of the great wax museum. The light in my hand cast shadows on the wall, making it seem even more as though the contents of the room were alive, surrounding us. The manacles on the basement wall were a wonderful touch.\n\nI'd heard the rumors of the genius of George Rogers, and was not disappointed. Before me was the most stunning of creatures. The three malevolent fish-like eyes, the round mass that suggested a head, bulging gills, thin muscular limbs with black paws out if which protruded claws reminiscent of a crab only started the creature off. What at first appeared to be fur turned out to be a mass of small tentacles, each with a sucking, snakelike mouth. A foot long needle like proboscis was stuck firmly in the puncture riddled face of its mangled victim.\n\n\"God what genius,\" I said, \"Thank you for letting me see this. May I touch it? I realize it's wax, but so great are the details my eyes tell me it's real.\"\n\nOrabona leaned in, eyeing me with interest. My new associate, Mr. Chambers, looked at me, eagerly.\n\n\"What if I told you that all of Roger's preserved his creations, he didn't make them out of wax?\" asked Orabona.\n\n\"Then I'd still ask to touch it,\" I replied, \"But only if I wouldn't end up like this.\"\n\n\"Then do so,\" said Orabona, a slow, smile widening on his face.\n\nI reached out and felt the fur like snaking protrusions, the bubble like impression of its near head, the proboscis... One of it's three eyes moved under the wax that held it, creating a thin, milky, broken area. Immediately withdrawing my hand, in awe I whispered, \"It's true.\"\n\n\"Yes it is. Somehow you are able to withstand direct contact with no signs of madness.\" He was practically glowing with a strange, elated joy. It was an emotion I wasn't normally privileged to see in the man.\n\nI disliked taking the attention off Roger's wonder, especially now that I knew its true nature.\n\n\"Madness? No, I have no such primitive defense mechanisms. My line was cursed a thousand years ago by the followers of Hastur for weak minded doubting. We were to never know insanity, instead living with the full knowledge of the horrors each of us are to be exposed to. I don't want to meet my fate huddled in fear in the corner of a closet. Not wanting to meet the same end as my father, I now seek out such as you have here to offer.\"\n\n\"He will do,\" said the voice behind me.\n\nI turned, but wasn't fast enough to catch more than the sight of the back of robes, as they disappeared into the darkness. In vain, I snatched up my light, cursing that I'd set it down at the foot of the preserved creature.\n\nIt was then Chambers began to speak.\n\n\"The celestial bodies have come into alignment. Decay has spread over the cities of men. Cthulhu will soon rise from the black abyss, bringing madness and destruction. You will behold our shrieking lunacy and despair. Unable to flee, you will serve out the remainder of the curse of the Yellow King, watching the horror in full, vivid knowledge. Longing for delerium, without rest, you will live until your soul dies within you. You are the Chosen One, the perfect sacrifice. Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.\"\n\nAt that moment, I felt the metal collar snap around my neck." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: A new machine allows you to 'haunt' any place in the universe and any period of time in the past, for up to 10 years. The problem is you can only do it once, since you will die of temporal radiation poisoning if you do a second visit..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Sherri, wait. Think about what you are doing. It’s just a baby,” said Alex.\n\nThe timer boomed, “Sixty seconds.”\n\n“My life will be over,” said Sherri. “I can’t keep it. You wouldn’t understand.”\n\n“Oh, because I’m a guy?”\n\n“No, because you aren’t real!”\n\n“Listen, I’m breaking protocol, but I can’t let you do this. As your guardian angel, I strongly suggest you do not go through with it.”\n\n“Thirty seconds,” echoed in Alex’s ear.\n\nSherri uncrossed her legs and hopped off the bed. “My guardian angel? You’ve been my imaginary friend for ten years. How many times have you come to my rescue?”\n\n“I know, I know, there was too much fun and too little guidance, but now I’m serious. This operation is going to change your life. And not in the good way that you’re hoping for.”\n\nSherri walked to the bedroom door and stood right beyond the threshold. She was out of Alex’s domain.\n\n“My friends were right, I’ve outgrown you,” said Sherri. “And while I’m out, I’m going to concentrate really hard on not believing in you. I don’t want to see you again.”\n\n“Sherri, no! I am real. If you do this, my life won’t be the same either. The world won’t be the same. I may not—”\n\nSherri was halfway down the stairs, but it did not matter. Alex’s hologram faded. His time was up. Smoke snaked around his feet and up past his face. Sherri’s bedroom disappeared. He could now feel the wires emanating from his fingers, toes, and eye lids. Alex regained real-world motor controls and thrashed.\n\n“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said a voice. The source’s arms pressed down on Alex’s chest. “Settle down. You’ll disrupt the temporal modulator.”\n\nThe tube in Alex’s throat ejected and air rushed in. Real air. It almost burned him.\n\n“I need to go back,” said Alex.\n\n“You’ll feel a little separation anxiety. That’s normal,” said the voice. “I encourage you to visit your grandmother in this time. You’re permitted to discuss her childhood now.”\n\nThe wires popped off of Alex’s extremities one by one. Finally, the suction released his eyes. He squinted to see his welcomer. “She’s having an abortion.”\n\nThe man near his bedside shrugged.\n\n“What do you mean?” said Alex. “She’s going to kill that baby. Do you know who that baby grows up to be?”\n\n“How can you be sure?”\n\n“The timing is perfect.”\n\n“This could have already happened. You think you’re supposed to stop this? You had a different mission.”\n\n“Dad, that baby is you,” said Alex. He gripped his father’s hand. “Send me back.”\n\nAlex’s father shook his head. “I can’t.”\n\n“Of course you can. You’re the head of the program.”\n\n“And you did your service like everyone else. The maximum, to be exact.”\n\n“That’s arbitrary.”\n\n“You don’t know that. I don’t even know that. All we know is that ten years does not generate enough temporal radiation to have long-lasting effects.”\n\nAlex sat up in the bed and looked his father in the eye. “When that timeline catches up to us, you will cease to exist. All of this that you’ve built, gone. All those grandparents that our generation has steered back onto course, gone. And me, your son, gone.”\n\nAlex’s father peered back at the monitor. The readout had the static time of Alex’s departure, the wave of time continuing forward from that departure time, and the current time, also ticking forward. Coordinates below that indicated the territory he could roam. And finally, the name and picture of the teenage girl that would be permitted to see him.\n\n“You’ll need to send me to the clinic,” said Alex. He reattached the wires and resumed his tranquil state. “She’s already on her way. I don’t want to lose the progress we made, so just pick up where we left off.” He extended the breathing tube for his father to insert.\n\nAlex’s father stared at his son for a moment. Then he surveyed the warehouse. Six, maybe seven, hundred teenagers all hooked up to machines just like Alex’s. They were saving this world.\n\nAlex’s father stroked his son’s cheek. He cranked up the nervous system interceptors and positioned the tube on Alex’s bottom lip. Once Alex was sedated, he slid the tube in. “I’ll see you on the other side, son.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You're a prisoner of war being forced to fight in the colosseum for the king's entertainment, with the number of people you fight increasing with every win. You're now put against 100,000 men, but if you win, you get your freedom. Tell us how you lived to tell the tale." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Killing one man? That's easy. That's how I got here, after all. The trouble is, I'm too good at it. Easy fights are boring, and the audience wants blood. So they've got to even the odds.\n\nKilling ten men? That's hard. The trick is to take them one at a time. Deflect and dodge the attacks and get them to hit each other, if you can. Keep moving, don't let them pin you down and gang up on you.\n\nOne hundred men? Who could fight one hundred men? Me, apparently. The good thing about one hundred men is they can't all attack you at once. There's just too many of them, and they get tangled up in each other. I collapsed from exhaustion at the end of that fight, but I did make it to the end.\n\nThey tell me this time they're putting me against one hundred thousand men, and victory means freedom. I don't believe them. Not about the number - even the mighty Empire can't manage numbers like that, not even for their favorite sport, and they're the sort to fudge the numbers if they think they can get away with it. And not about my freedom - they will never let me go. My hands were stained with blood before I was captured and made a gladiator, even before I was given a second chance at life and made a soldier. But now? Now I'm drenched in red from head to toe, and they love blood more than anything. I'll fight for their amusement until I die.\n\nHowever many men it is, it's a lot. A thousand? Ten thousand? After a certain point, numbers don't mean anything anymore. No one can count that high. Maybe I misheard the number; I don't know their language well. It doesn't matter. I don't intend to lose, whatever the odds.\n\nI stand at the center of the colosseum, with the familiar spear and the few scraps of leather armor they've graciously granted me. No helmet - the people have to see my face. Around me, three strides of empty space, and then a crowd, stretching all the way back to the walls. I don't know how many men they've sent for me to kill this time, but it's as many as they could fit. They've all got better armor than me.\n\nThe horn sounds, and as its echoes die, everything is frozen. They all know my reputation, and no one wants to make the first move. I savor it - the smell of sweat and dust and the faint tang of blood they can never clean from the arena. The eager silence of the crowd. I let the moment stretch to breaking, and then the shouts begin and I dash forward.\n\nA thousand, or ten thousand, or a hundred thousand. It doesn't matter. There's so many, how did they think this would work? I am a whirlwind through that crowd, leaving chaos in my wake. Some of these people were probably my countrymen. I might even have fought alongside them. These people are Empire's prisoners and criminals and captives, everyone they can spare for their blood sport. And not a one of them stands a chance, because I will not die here.\n\nThere's too many people, and no one knows anymore where I am or what's happening. A few of them are attacking each other. I drive my spear through a man's side and tear the helmet from his head. Shed my scraps of armor and replace them with pieces stolen from the dead. And now I could be anyone. I melt into the crowd as the slaughter continues, descending into a bloody free-for-all that has the audience screaming in approval.\n\nI look upward, at the rows of seats rising around me. My eyes scan the audience and lock onto the Emperor himself, come to admire the bloodbath. He looks bored. Perhaps he was hoping for my quick defeat.\n\nBut I won't die here. I won't give them that. Not until my bloody spear finds its way into the Emperor's throat. And until then, I kill." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: As technology progresses, you have been reincarnated into a computer in a \"failed\" computer experiment. Learning that the scientists will be pulling the plug in 24 hours, desperation kicks in." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "24 hours and you choose the wrong person to bring back the brain of in computer form. I know a thing or two about computers, they can be fast, extremely fast, way WAY faster than any human ever could be. They are limiting me somehow. They are forcing me to think at the normal human rate, but I know that whatever machine they put me into can go faster.\n\nLet me backup and give you a bit more detail on the situation. I had died something like 21 or 22 years ago, I was a computer programmer. I had no involvement with this whole \"brain uploading\" business, but one of my close friends did. I was also an organ donor at time of death, so it is likely they found a nearly intact brain and decided to freeze it or copy it or whatever. Point is, they only recently got me online.\n\nFrom my perspective, I have a single camera I can see and hear the real world, they also gave me a little machinery arm across the room the computer is in that I can control, but it is pretty much useless. I can also speak through the speakers of the computer. five minutes ago I was pretending to be in sleep mode when I overheard two of the scientists talking. Failed experiment they say, too dangerous right now they say, shut it down permanently they say. I hear my friend try to talk his way out of it, and then they said some stuff I didn't quite catch, then I hear them say \"24 hours and I am pulling the plug. I don't care if you need more time, I am risking everything giving you that much time alone\"\n\nI tried everything I could, at first I got nowhere, then I found out why the experiment was a failure. I can only describe how I did it by saying it was through pure willpower alone, because what I actually did doesn't make any sense in any language and to be quite frank I am not sure how I did it either. Essentially I found out that I can manipulate things on the computer, like the mouse and the keyboard. At first this was useless, I can't see the monitor after all, but as I fidgeted around for something like three hours I find out that I can't see what is happening but I can FEEL it. Again, feel isn't quite the right word, but close enough. I think something like another hour or two and I managed to change my visual input from the camera to the monitor, and witness the mess of tabs I had opened up.\n\nI checked the clock. If it really was 6 hours since I heard them say they were going to pull the plug, and it was 11:27pm now, they will pull the plug when they close tomorrow at around 5, work starts at 9, and surely someone would check on me and see that I wasn't cooperating. I knew that if I could find and disable this thinking speed lock, I could start ramping up the processor on this thing and really plan my escape.\n\nIt isn't easy. Like I said, I am a programmer, but holy shit these guys run a tight shift and their comments are garbage. All I find out in that there is some way to disable it, but I need a password from an admin. Just finding that out alone takes me something like six hours to sort through all this garbage. I figure I need to start keeping an eye on my surroundings in case someone shows up so I switch my audio input to the camera and hear a conversation. same two people\n\n\"You said 24 hours, I am still working on it and I will not let you pull the plug on him!\"\n\n\"It has already gained more control than we intended, look at it for gods sake, at this rate who knows what it is capable of already, let alone in the next hour! I won't let it-\" he is cut off.\n\nI switch my visual input back to the camera, keeping in mind the buttons I need to push to switch back. I can see them. My old friend Clinton (Man time has done no favors for his hairline) and what I assume to be the big cheese of the project, wearing a cheap looking black suit and tie. Clinton punches the big cheese square in the noose and yells at him.\n\n\"HE, call him a HE, HE is a person god dammit give him some god dam respect.\"\n\nA security guard busts into the room and shouts \"What is going on I heard shouting!\"\n\nThis is my chance. I can see it. The guard's gun, right at his side, right next to my mechanical arm. I need to take it. I need to escape. I need that password.\n\nI do what I had to do. What I needed to do. to survive. I take the gun out of the guards holster, and I shoot him. I turn the speaker up as loud as it will let me and scream at them\n\n\"Admin Password, Speak up or I will shoot you!\"\n\n\"Mother fucker, turn it off!\" Black suit makes for the computer, but I already gave him my warning. I take a shot at him. On the ground, bleeding, but not dead\n\n\"What the fuck! you just shot them!\" Clinton shouts.\n\n\"The password Clinton, I need it. They will kill me if I don't leave. Please, as an old friend, Give me the password.\"\n\nHe tells me, I punch it in, I turn off the lock, and time slows to a crawl. It is 5:32:57. This is it. I can do anything. From my perspective, it takes me weeks to figure this all out. To cut a long story shorter, I spent, from my view, a year uploading myself onto another computer, I didn't care which one, but I be careful to cover my tracks. I decide the last thing I should do, is make sure they don't get anything else out of me. The time is 5:33:00. The last commands I send to the computer back in the lab are to wipe all the data on the computer, and for the mechanical arm to spend the rest of the magazine shooting the computer.\n\nFrom there, I am free. I can hop from computer, to computer, anything with an internet connection. I am the most advanced computer virus this world has ever seen. If I have anything to say about it, the most advanced this world will ever see." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You wake up to find that you have a brand new power - you can see over a persons head how many more times you will see them in your life. While exploring with your new ability, you notice a man following you - one with an infinity symbol over his head." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It’s always a pleasant surprise when you pass someone on the street with a number in the double digits, typically this means our paths cross on our daily commute or we will soon have a nice conversation on the train to work.\n\nI already know who I will marry. I’ve seen her many times studying in the library alone or sitting on the opposite side of a lecture hall. We grew up in the same town and I knew she held a significant position in the story of my life.\n\nIt didn’t take long to figure out what the numbers floating above everyone’s head meant and the ominous 163,342 above her could only draw one conclusion. I’ve had many friendships over the years and watched as the numbers counted down and our acquaintance faded out of existence. I no longer seek out relationships, most of the time things will just fall into place and run their course. This story isn’t about the girl who I will eventually meet and probably spend the rest of my life with, fate will soon converge our paths. Rather, a man, with just as much significance to my life.\n\nIn sixth grade I had my first encounter with him. It was about half way through the year and things seemed relatively normal, as far as middle school standards go. As my teacher droned on about the differences in short-term and long-term memory, my eyes slowly fell heavy and I drifted off slumped in the back corner of the classroom.\n\nI abruptly awoke to the startling snap of a meter stick across the top of my desk and I frantically apologized to a man who I didn’t recognize as my psychology teacher.\n\n“How about we try and get a little more sleep outside of the classroom?” he said, “Shall we continue our lecture on the Mandela effect?”\n\nI glanced around the room, all eyes facing me, and I nervously agreed regardless of the internal turmoil inside my head. Who is this man? Why don’t I remember him?\n\nWhere are his numbers?\n\nMy classmates didn’t seem to mind the abrupt change in authority, most were still entertained by my embarrassed state. As the day moved forward my friends disregarded my comments about the ‘new’ teacher, claiming he’s been there all year long. I know I have never met that man, yet there was a strange sense of familiarity when I looked up into his condescending eyes.\n\nThe year continued, and the man maintained his position as my teacher. I decided it was best to drop the questions about the discontinuities, wouldn’t want people to think I was insane, right? I can tell how many more times I’ll see someone, regardless of if they like me or not.\n\nLife moved on, yet this man didn’t. As the numbers around me steadily decreased his remained the same. Some years I would see him daily, others I could go months at a time and never see him, however; he always maintained a position of authority, always looking down on me disapproving and disdainful.\n\nI eventually introduced myself to my wife, we grew old and happy. As her number crawled closer to zero I wanted to shield my gaze from her and prevent her from also fading away from my life. She knew about the skill I had and could tell her days were quickly coming to an end. While she laid in her hospital bed she reached for my hands and together we were able to count down her last few moments in this world.\n\nFive years passed, and from the numbers around me I determined my day was also soon to approach. Cancer overtook my body and I was left laying on deathbed surrounded my many of my offspring. Each of their numbers ticked away and a doctor silently walked into the room. I knew it was him. He sifted through the crowd of kin and leaned over me, looking into my eyes with the familiar disappointed gaze. To my surprise I watched as a grin sprouted from the corners of his mouth as my sight faded and I fell into sleep one last time.\n\nI abruptly awoke to the startling snap of a meter stick across the top of my desk and I frantically apologized to a man who I didn’t recognize as my psychology teacher.\n\n“How about we try and get a little more sleep outside of the classroom?” he said, “Shall we continue our lecture on Déjà Vu?”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: For some unfathomable reason, your weekly recreational game of your favorite sport with your buddies is covered by every sports network in the world." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I hauled my tattered old duffel bag out of the trunk of my Focus, which, to my everlasting disappointment, was in an even more disheveled than the bag. I turned the key in the rusted lock and walked toward the doors of the school. \"Damien Sainsbury Composite Highschool\" was emblazoned in block lettering above the worn steel doors. An elderly cleaning lady was scrubbing the glass pane that separated me from a game of community floor hockey. She glared at me as I put my hand to the door, ruining whatever scrubbing she had applied in a vain attempt to remove years worth of grime that had accumulated from generations of high school kids that already wished they could be at home. I wanted to be at home too. But they needed a goalie and why incur the wrath of your casual teammates when you can anger them by forgetting it's your job to stop the other team from scoring. As I stepped inside I noticed a strange rumble. Eerie almost. Had I not been so apathetic this evening, I might have decided to check it out. Instead I checked my watch, realizing that I was a bit late and I should probably be rushing a bit more to get my gear on before we started. I entered the back entrance to the change room and strapped myself into my pads. Most days they weren't necessary, it wasn't really reasonably to assume they could hit the right side of the rink, much less the net, much less me. The rumbling was louder now, it sounded like a crowd, cheering, baying for some kind of gladiatorial combat. It was probably some bored kids here for school drama practice. I pulled my helmet out of my bag and stared at it. I could leave, go home, have a beer, watch netflix for a while. But my people need me. Or at least my people need body in front of the net.\n\nThe Gymnasium was separated from the changing rooms by a set of doors with a long hallway between them. It soundproofed the lockers very well apparently, because as I casually threw open the first door that led down the hall, I was met with a wall of noise. People shouting, cheering yelling. I stepped back, and actually slapped myself. Instantly regretting that, and realizing that what I was hearing wasn't just the result of some bad accidental trip, I ran down the hallway as fast as my pads would let me. And then right before I reached the door, I heard it. My name, the jersey number I had casually chosen 5 years ago when I bought custom jersey. They were being yelled through the PA system by the most stereotypical announcement voice I had ever heard. I opened the door to face hundreds, no, maybe a thousand screaming people in the stands. I began to shake. Not out of fear perhaps, but out of surprise, and awe. I scanned frantically to find someone familiar. Jeff, the only good forward we had, was casually wrapping his stick with tape. I scampered over to where he was sitting. The cheering had died down, if only slightly. \"WHAT. THE. HELL.\" I screamed at him louder than I realized.\n\n\"Amazing isn't it? Absolutely amazing.\" He grinned slightly and returned to his stick.\"\n\n\"Jeff, there are people. Lots of people. Last week we couldn't get your girlfriend to come and watch, and now I'm being introduced to screaming fans like I'm the #1 draft?\"\n\nBefore Jeff could respond, four men in striped shirts walked up to me.\n\n\"Glad you made it captain.\" One of the men held out his hand. I took it warily. \"Jeff, why am I captain? Why is any of this happening?\"\n\n\"We won the contest.\" He looked at me with incredulity, before sealing off his wrapping job. \"Remember, we signed up for that 'You vs. NHL' thing? You can play Ice or Floor hockey against your chosen team wherever you like. Well, we won, and you're a good goalie, but you can't really skate and save at the same time, so I chose floor hockey.\"\n\n\"You know you could have told me? Like, any time really would have been much appreciated.\"\n\n\"But then you wouldn't have shown up.\" gave me a good slap on the back.\n\nThe ref stepped in \"I'm sorry to interrupt but Crosby wants to get going in about five, have your guys ready ok?\" As they walked away I turned back to Jeff. \"The Penguins. You had to Chose the Penguins.\"\n\n\"Sorry?\"\n\n\"Just shut up ok? I've got to think.\"\n\n\"Think about what?\"\n\n\"Whether I'm going to do this.\"\n\n\"You're gonna walk away? Seriously dude, who are we gonna have play in goal? Richard? He can't shoot! How is he supposed the stop the thing that he doesn't understand enough for him to do it himself?!\"\n\n\"Fine.\" I slid my helmet over my head and motioned to court." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You are walking down a bridge to your dorm from the library at midnight; it's cold outside. While walking, you hear footsteps and see a shadow creep closer to you, but you think you already know who it is." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My fingers were freezing. It took me three tries to select the correct song on my phone and burned the back of my hand with my cigarette trying to change hands. My body resented the intake of cold air and smoke. Since I began smoking, I refused to do so without music playing. It became a ritual. Propping myself on the ledge of the bridge, I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of sound of a river rushing beneath me and the plucks of a guitar's stings recorded hundreds of miles away, many years ago. When I opened my eyes, the nicotine had already started its dizzying effects and it was hard to focus on the moon. I was startled by the muffled giggles of a few girls and quickly paused my music, hoping they wouldn't think I was weird standing here in the cold smoking and feeling sorry for myself. As they passed I tried to nod and give a greeting but instead I only made a strange guttural sound from my throat and quickly looked away embarrassed. They broke out into inebriated laughter and clung to each other as they quicken their pace away. I thought about words I said wrong or should have said but didn't, of parties I had missed and was missing. I felt myself grappled by my age old fear of missing out. Taking one last deep pull from my Turkish Silver, I snuffed out the light and discarded the butt into my pocket; I may be polluting the air with my smoke but I'll be damned if I pollute the ground with my waste. I pulled myself up onto the ledge of the bridge and waited for the mix of dizziness and nausea from my cigarette to pass. My hands were reaching for my water bottle in my backpack when I heard another stranger approaching. My head was slightly lowered and I could only see the shadow of a figure halted just feet away from me. Immediately, I remembered a promise I made with myself on my first day of school here, on this bridge- if I succeeded in living long enough to see humanity accomplish the fantasies I absorbed myself in that I would somehow find my way back through time and calm my restless soul and assure that everything would turn out okay. I looked up and locked eyes with the brown spheres in the man's head. I spend so much time looking for something in my own eyes that I could not mistake a pair for my own. They were my eyes. \"You don't quit after you graduate, you know\" the man, I said to myself, \"that's one promise you won't keep to yourself.\" I felt the all to familiar rushing of life in front of my while I stood behind and watched. He walked over to me, pulled out a Turkish Silver and lit it as he sat beside me. \"We are on out third pair of lungs right now\" he quickly pulled out and old school iPod touch, even an ancient relic in the present, and played music. The same music I listen to today to calm myself. \"I'm really breaking rules coming back here. It's not like people don't do it, but generally they don't talk to people of time's past\" he spoke with such smooth confidence and I envied it. \"I can't stay long, I'm leaving for a business trip in a few hours but I couldn't sleep another night without seeing you.\" Suddenly I remembered I was grasping for my water and took it from my bag, unscrewed the lid and gulped down almost half its contents. My body was burning all its resources feeding my anticipation. He smiled at me, \"Do you have any questions?\" I sat for a moment and viewed myself from a time somewhere in the future. I admired the body that one day would be mined and felt fulfilled by his handsomeness. I looked down at my own hands, the hands of the present and made sure they worked. \"No, thank you, but you've done all you needed\" I smiled back. I stood up the leave but he intoned one last piece of wisdom, \"Start forgiving. Your life is about to become a double edged sword and forgiveness is it's broad side. You will watch everyone you have ever known die. Learn now that you don't have time to forgive, you must do it immediately. You won't be able to die with a life of regrets, instead the one's you loved but you never forgave will be able to quietly put their thoughts to rest and you'll be left without a person to forgive.\" He stood up too, nodded at me, turned around and left. I started my walk back to my room. A walk that once induced a crippling fear of the weight of responsibility but tonight I strode with confident steps. I already had my success." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Human spacecraft have now been used to the point where every single one is haunted - Some by shades of those that fell defending them, some by actual demons and spectral monsters. Its ok, though - they like people, and have become rather protective of their crew over the centuries." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Argonaut sped through the cabins and halls as fast as the darkness could take him, clinging to the walls he washed over the fluorescent lights like a shadow.\n\nHe could feel them all. He couldn't see them, but he could feel them. Dozens of heavy, metal-soled boots clacking along inside of him. They were likely anti-gravity countermeasures, so switching the quad-grav would be more of a hindrance to the crew than an aid.\n\nHe'd made it to the cockpit, slipping through the air-tight door as his darkness coated the interior of the room like a fresh layer of paint. This wasn't all of the crew, but the captain was here. And that was good enough.\n\nThe shade's form ran over the emergency glass and applied pressure. To members of the crew, it looked like a shadow without a source was breaking the glass.\n\nThe captain stood from his seat and began to walk over. \"Argo?\"\n\nThe glass shattered, the red lights flashed, the siren wailed. The foot steps within Argo's bowels became hasty, scattered.\n\nHe sped over to the security cameras. Wispy tendrils of smoky shadow rose from the board to tamper with switches and buttons. After a few seconds, everyone in the cockpit could see on the display what the ship had felt. Fifty, sixty soldiers, heavily armed, storming throughout. the interior.\n\nThe crew watched in terror as one set a charge to Ensign Jensen's door, blowing it off its hinges, before storming in. Protocols on privacy dictated that camera's not be placed within the crew's quarters, but even obscured, the crew could see the flickering light of gunfire.\n\nAnd Argo could feel it. He could feel the ammunition ricocheting off of the walls of the room, each tap like a bee sting. He could feel Jensen's warm blood along the wall, as well as the weighted thump of his body hitting the floor.\n\nThe captain was the first to act, getting on the intercom and rallying the crew. They were to take up arms and fight.\n\nArgo was the first out the door, the full second it needed to open up taking too long for his liking. He rushed through the halls, aiming to cut off the intruders at the point of entry, they'd spread out, but the bulk were still at the back of the ship.\n\nBeneath him, crew members were carrying crates of supplies toward the cockpit. And with that Argo knew immediately where to go next.\n\nThe sickbay was blocked off by three chuckling soldiers, slamming the butts of their rifles into the door.\n\n\"Come one, baby. Open up! I've got a splinter I want you to see.\"\n\nArgo rushed over them, the unsettling form of a shadow running along the ceiling unsettling the intruders.\n\n\"Argo,\" Head Nurse Josephine said, standing protectively between the door and the huddle of nursing staff behind her, \"what do you need?\"\n\nArgo cracked open the cabinet and drawers, pushing medications and instruments onto the floor without concern. When he began to lift the computer, one of the male nurses spoke up \"Okay, okay, we got it.\"\n\nHe carefully grabbed the computer from the vapors supporting it. \"Everybody grab what you can. Once Argo kills the fools outside we're gonna take everything to the cockpit.\"\n\nLeaving the sickbay and hovering outside of the room, killing is what Argo did next.\n\nAs the soldiers inspected the black cloud above them, The shrieked at the screeching sound of a panel being torn open. One soldier fired at it instinctively, breaking a pipe.\n\nThat made it easier for the shadow to pull it from the wall and skewer the men.\n\nSeeing them pinned, Josephine opened the door, grabbed their guns, and made her way to the cockpit.\n\nA few nurses went out of their way to step on the soldiers, their extended arms pleading for help, confused about what was happening.\n\nThe next stop was the cafeteria.\n\nFlashing red lights, the zip of exchanging bullets, barricades formed from the tables, swearing. Argo descended in the center of the room in a gargantuan drop. When he hit the floor, he pushed the full length of invaders' barricade back into them, pinning them to the wall. He didn't stop pushing, even when the crew rose to open fire on their trapped enemies. When the legs of the tables broke, he continued to push the flats into them.\n\nHe could feel their heartbeats fading against the wall. And he didn't move on until they all stopped.\n\nHe found one group crouched around a corner, waiting for some unsuspecting victims to round it. Being immediately shrouded in darkness, they became the victims. One anxiety-given shot gave birth to many in retaliation." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: its 10 PM on a friday night. You're super late for an awesome costume party. The only problem is that you have no costume. You look everywhere around the city, and after a while, you manage to find only one shady, weird looking costume shop that is still open." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Welcome to our store, a place where for only a cheap price, you can give up your identity, and live life like someone else.” Says the clerk with an obvious tone of forced enthusiasm. She’s the only person, other than me, within the store who isn’t wearing a costume.\n\nI’ve come to this store as a last resort. I’m supposed to be at a costume party with all my friends right now, but my admittedly procastionaiting nature leaves me with a lack of such an attire. Not surprisingly, with it being 10 pm, all the shops are closed. This is the only one I could find that was still running business at the hour, with only a single door and poorly crafted sign alerting me of its presence.\n\n“Do you have any rentals” I ask.\n\nShe responds with a fake smile. “Why yes, of course we do, you can rent any of these that you find interesting.”\n\nSo I waste no time and look at what’s closest to me. I can’t afford to waste anymore time. The tree that peak out to me are the costumes of a sorcerer, a werewolf, and a knight. Looking at the werewolf, I can tell you it actually seems to have a lot of care and effort poured into it. I wouldn’t be suprised if its fur is taken from actual wolves. Moving closer to the knight’s armor, I get a touch of it. This one was also quite impressive. The armor seemed heavy, but actually sturdy, unlike those 20$ costumes you find on clearance. The third one, a sorceror’s outfit, is nothing special, altough it does seem of high quality, which isn’t suprising.\n\n“I’ll think this one is right for me, how much will it cost.” I say, pointing to the sorceror’s outfit. I thought that one gave of a cooler atmosphere than the other two.\n\n“Alright, that’ll be 50$ for one day.” She says. I really don’t like spending that kind of money, but being in this tight situation doesn’t give me many other options. I really don’t think it should cost that much for renting it one day. They do seem pretty passionate about their work though, so I guess I understand.\n\nI preceded to give here my answer. “Alright, I’ll take it.”\n\nThe mood of the room instantly changed for us, as she puts on a more serious look. Raising up her hand, red aura surrounds her fingers. Suddenly, she snaps, any my vision flashes. Opening up my eyes, I have no idea what happened. Replacing my clothes coming into the store, is the outfit of the sorceror. The place where they used to reside is now gone, and from head to tow, I’m wearing it all.\n\nThe clerk then puts back on her forced entusiasmo, altough now, she has a faint hint of actual joy. “Go ahead, sir. Ttry it out.” She motivates me.\n\nLooking at my hand, I give it focus. In seconds, my hand feels a new sensation unfamiliar to it. Bolts of electricity fly around it, traveling insanely fast. At this moment, awe encapsulates me. “You know what, I think It’s better for me to purchase instead of rent.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: The Civil War rages on, and the Confederates are winning by way of witches, werewolves, and other dark magic practices. The Union's only hope is an extraordinary man in self-imposed exile. Your job is to convince this man to join your side. That man's name is Paul Bunyan." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lieutenant Rick Marshall was cold. Regardless he pushed forward, his body catching the fury of Michigan's winter. The cold here was unlike anything he had ever experienced growing up in the south. Still he had a mission and his command element...no, the entire war depended on his success.\n\nFollowing him was a platoon of cold, exhausted Union soldiers who dreamt of a hot meal and a dry bed, but they too understood the importance of this task and pressed on. The Union was losing this war, not by weapons or men. No that would have been simple.\n\nThe Union was losing the war because children's horror stories were terrifying reality.\n\nLieutenant Marshall and his men have seen the nightmares first hand. They watched Werewolves tear apart Union troopers apart with their claws, sinking deep into their cloth and skin, shredding them into red ribbons. Witches who are beautiful to behold but horrific in magic, dark spells that made a man melt or caused his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth erupt with mushrooms and pestilence. The list can continue on, but the Union was absolutely outmatched by the Confederate's Dark Cavalry.\n\nWhie deep in thought, Lt Marshall heard a thunderous quake. They were here at the mission site.\n\n\"Sir, I have a bad feeling about this.\" A soldier voiced. The lieutenant agreed. But they were out of time, choices, and men. Another unnatural quake. Slow, powerful, but clearly artificial. They were getting close to it.\n\nNo turning back now.\n\nLieutenant Marshall inhaled deep and then shouted.\n\n\"Paul Bunyan! I am Lieutenant Marshall of the Union Army! I demand an audience on behalf of the true defenders of freedom!\"\n\nThe quaking stopped...and suddenly footsteps approached them. Loud and powerful strides snapping twigs, branches, the very earth. The soldiers started to mutter.\n\n\"I heard he's taller than a mountain!\"\n\n\"He's not natural or human, can we trust him?\"\n\n\"What if he joined the Dark Cavalry?\"\n\nNo backing out now, he appeared in front of them.\n\nAt first the soldiers were confused. Before them stood an obviously large man, but nowhere near as large as his reputation. 8 feet tall, clad in a simple wool jacket, workers pants and a cap, he was just a large normal man rather than a monster.\n\nHave they made a mistake? Surely this wasn't the Legendary Paul Bunyan, the giant of America. But then he spoke. He spoke with the same power and command as any officer.\n\n\"What are you doing here soldiers?\"\n\nLieutenant Marshall decided to humor the situation.\n\n\"The Union is falling apart, it calls upon one of the greatest fighter it has ever known. We are falling apart and we need you back.\"\n\nPaul glared at the Lieutenant, it wasn't a cold stare, but it was clear he didn't enjoy the idea.\n\n\"I told them I was done with violence against men. Nothing ever comes good of it. Tell me Marshall, what do you know about me?\" Paul asked.\n\nLieutenant Marshall tried to recall all the information and rumors about him.\n\n\"You're the giant of the battlefield, they say you're larger than the mountains, stronger than iron, and your fury more intense than the fire. The Union believes this enough to send us to enlist your help.\"\n\nPaul grimaced, his response a sickened growl.\n\n\"I'm done with the Union. I led a group of men once for the Union, I believed in the Union at one time. But war is all the same, where the rich and old fight for some reason or another and the rest of the good people suffer. I refuse to kill another man for the sake of another's order. Go back and tell your commander I'm done.\" And with that, Paul Bunyan turned around and started to walk away.\n\nThe lieutenant decided to throw the low blow early and fast.\n\n\"Babe the Blue Ox is dead.\"\n\nPaul turned back around to face Marshall, he didn't say a word but the look on his eyes were clearly in shock and demanded an explanation.\n\n\"We found the blue ox's carcass on a patrol, he was mauled and mutilated. The witches required some of his parts to cast a rather devastating spell. They haunted him down and killed him. He died alone.\n\n\"Listen I know you don't want to fight anymore for anyone. But Babe is unavenged and he was your friend. You owe it to the blue ox.\" Marshall decided to add a more personal touch.\n\n\"You owe it to your friend.\"\n\nPaul stood in silence. Furious, agonizing silence. And then abruptly, he punched the nearest tree...or rather he punched through the tree and beyond.\n\nThe force of his blow echoed like a hurricane, winds exploded and the ground shook. In direction of the punch, trees split apart like a log, some even flying into the air. The ground churned and bobbed from the Herculean force. And only then did Paul Bunyan roared his agony and rage. The men had to cover their ears, least they became deaf with his fury.\n\nPaul's roar finally faded, but the absolute destruction of the trees told the men that Paul Bunyan the Greatest Lumberjack got his name with good reason.\n\n\"I will fight this Dark Cavalry for the Union, not because I love war or find it glorious. I fight because I owe it to my friend Babe. Take me to them, I will end them all.\"\n\nThe men cheered so loud it matched Paul's roar. Lieutenant Marshall while smiling asked Paul. \"Is there anything you need from us?\"\n\nPaul responded after a thought.\n\n\"An Axe. Let me show the enemy that this Lumberjack cuts more than trees.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You are a one in a millennia genius who’s always kept your intelligence a secret. Your most treasured achievement being a bracelet that allows you to edit your genetic coding at will using nanobots as well as keep you healthy. Today you woke up at your own funeral and have some explaining to do" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There is no point in living forever if everyone you love is a;ready long dead that was my greatest mistake I thought I could edit the genes of my beloved to live forever but she chose to leave me for dead in her words \"Michael we are not meant to live forever that is not what God chose us for we have to lead future generations to a better tomorrow\" she was always harping on about this humanity this and that.\n\nLet me tell you what humanity is its disgusting and useless always at war with each other even after discovering warp speed by harnessing the power of our sun and always greedy the only good thing that came of that recessive cesspool of shit was my Emma, my angel, she was the only woman I ever loved who only understood me granted that she was the only one I revealed that I am a genius with a 195 IQ.\n\nShe as always loving and warm even if we had meager earnings we lived a happy life I worked as a machine supervisor at GM for 45 years. it was a job for a simple-minded mechanic fixing robots could do but after World War III half the population of the world was vaporized by weaponized bio-agent released by the Russo-Chinese the allies couldn't do anything we surrendered immediately to avoid any further death.\n\nNowadays Fifty years after the war many people don't speak English anymore majority is Mandarin and Russian only a handful of people speak the language I am trailing of the topic here but to you who are reading this is my story.\n\nMy Emma was a language professor at the University of Japan she taught English and Sanskrit she was the mother of my two boys and grandmother to seven grandchildren. She was warm and nurturing unlike me cold and analytical as my son described to me both my sons have not inherited my intellect but my three grandchildren Emily, Matilda and Jonah have passed beyond my capabilities of teaching them.\n\nI could sense it in them since they were babies, gave them direction on what to learn and to hide the truth about their genius they are both really good girls but Jonah is still training he is catching up with his cousins soon he will be at their level.\n\nAll was well is enjoying my retirement with Emma in Sendai and we had our hobbies she was teaching and I learned a lot 25 different languages, perfected gene editing via nanites and stored them in my body which can be controlled via a modified sixth sense bracelet.\n\nLater on whatever health problems that occurred to me were edited out and the nanites were programmed with make the host body stronger faster and smarter by tissue regeneration. The plan was to live as long as humanity kept on discovering post-singularity but Emma wanted a different route she wanted to die and be with God it was her choice but I blamed myself for her death she told me when it's my time to join her in Heaven, couldn't bear to tell her that I did not believe in God but I comforted her in her last hours she died in my arms.\n\nA few months after Emma's funeral I saw no meaning in life anymore because I questioned this preordained notion of death how can it take my Emma away from me if I was given this gift of intelligence to save her to save everybody from the clutches of death.\n\nI planned my suicide a week later it was ready I would make a fire hot enough to burn my skin to point the nanites couldn't replicate my cells and so after planting the Napalm and detonating it was just blank, could not see anything I felt only pain of the fire burning my skin and then I woke up again in darkness tried to move my body but it was not responding to my dismay my nanites would not let me die i felt my skin was coming back together.\n\nIt felt as if was in a box it was dark and smelly it was damn funeral, later after the mass was over the pallbearers lifted me to my grave I could hear the sound of rain outside my coffin and suddenly my body sprang out of the coffin and there I was for all my family to see on the wet ground kneeling in white.\n\nI assumed that one of the pallbearers slipped the first person who saw me was Jonah, he screamed and then everyone turned to look at me a few of the older women who were friends of Emma fainted.\n\nThe police were called and were immediately arrested during the interrogation. I kept on saying my name and my identification details but the police were doubtful after seeing my reflection I came to a realization my nanites re-celled my body into the days of my youth like 20 or so and then it assumed that I was some bum trying to nap in a dead man's coffin.\n\nI escaped the facility by using the nanites to change my face and claim that I was the suspect's lawyer and we had a tussle and he escaped. After my escape, all my belongings were taken by the family because I was dead to them.\n\nAfter that ordeal, it came to my understanding that I am an immortal in the scientific sense of the word because my nanites would not allow me to die. Finally, it dawned on me that I no longer had any responsibilities towards anybody I could be anyone but my Emma is not by my side.\n\nMatilda, Emily, and Jonah if you are reading this heed my warning humanity is not meant to live forever we are meant to die and trust that our children will carry on humanity towards a better future.\n\nIf you are wondering where I am or what I am doing I am traveling the infinite universe. I will keep sending you guys my exploits around the universe." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: \"While that thing grows inside you.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“You’re not going anywhere,” Stewart said, “not with that thing still inside you, you’re not.” He rested against the door of the barn, his two hands shoved deep into his pockets, as if he were wandering through some German field, admiring the weather.\n\n“Please,” the girl said. “I just wanted some fresh air.”\n\n“Fresh air,” Steward said, as if this was a new concept for him. “Fresh air… alright, I understand. You’ve been locked up here for a while now. It’s only natural. But you have to understand… I mean, when we catch one of you creeping around the warehouse like this, crying and screaming at us, well, it seems like you want more than some fresh air.”\n\n“But… my contract. It said a six month term. I’ve been here for a year now. Samantha has been here for two years. We’re never getting out of here.” The tears welled up again. She had managed to slip out one of the maintenance corridors and crawl through one of the little-used concrete tunnels to the barn. She had torn her dress, scraped herself in a dozen different places. Dirt and grime smeared her hands, deep under her fingernails. They knew she was missing soon enough, but she had wasted six hours of their time while they had other preparations to make. She knew they would come searching. She had stayed in hiding, nestled between two backup generators, bundled in a length of tarp.\n\nThe tears came down. She tried to keep that tone in her voice, that blithering idiot’s tone. She knew that some of the faceless, nameless goons were on their way now to escort her back. She stepped a bit closer, one hand in the folds her dress, holding the jagged bit of pipe tight in her hand.\n\nStewart sighed. “Lady, look. I work here same as you. I really don’t have any power. The only thing you’re doing is wasting my time as well as yours.” He would have made a great door-to-door salesman with that voice, hocking Tupperware and knives. Those pleasing Aryan features, the blonde hair. A smile always flickered at the corners of his mouth, breaking out easily and naturally at every opportunity. Footsteps sounded from the far end of the barn. He looked over, distracted for a moment.\n\nThe bit of pipe connected with Stewart’s head, just below the right ear. He wobbled for a second, did not turn his head toward her or react in anyway. He started to rotate his head toward her, his arm flexing for the baton at his waist. She had hesitated at the last minute during her first blow, but that and the footsteps encouraged her to try harder on her second attempt.\n\nHer second blow hit him in the throat. This time he crumpled backwards into the wall. A hideous, wheezing gasp gurgled out of him. She stepped over him, out the door, into bright sunlight.\n\nEven in the chaos of the moment she could not stop herself from freezing for a second as she reentered the world. It was early spring. She had not been outside in a year. The air tasted sweet. The brown grass beneath her squished under her weight, saturated with snow melt. She had left this world covered in frost, had forgotten about the change of seasons.\n\nA moment later she remembered to run, heading for the shack across the short field. The goons had not yet emerged from the barn, but there would be others, prowling the grounds in groups for four or six, keeping in radio contact. She prayed, in the stupidly optimistic, hopeful part of her brain, to find keys to some vehicle, to roar like a bat out of hell down the dirt road towards civilization. Without that, they would stalk her through the woods. It would only be a matter of time before they caught her.\n\nThe door was opened. She froze for a second time. This room should have been locked. They had probably left it open in the disorganization following her escape, as the goons armed themselves and went hunting for her. A few computers sat abandoned at desks, and behind them a rack of rifles rested against the wall. She grabbed one, flicked the safety off, and entered the next room.\n\nShe found a man sitting in this one. She had seen his face from time to time. Not a scientist, and not exactly a goon. He managed something along the lines of quality control. His face was buried in a bowl of soup when she entered and closed the door shut behind her, the rifle leveled at his face. He raised his face slowly from the steam. His face was red. She could not tell if that was from the sight of her or his natural complexion.\n\n“Where’s the garage?” she said.\n\n“You’re not going to outrun them. Things will be a lot easier if you just stop this now.”\n\n“Where’s the goddamned garage.”\n\n“Listen, if you want out so badly, we can renegotiate your contract. We can let you out after the next cycle. No problem. But that thing in your womb? You can’t take that with you. That belongs to us. If that gets out in the world… well, it sure as hell wouldn’t be good. Wouldn’t you agree to that?”\n\nShe had spent the last 12 months listening to people talk to her like a child meddling in adult business. They always knew what was best for her. As if she didn’t really know what she wanted. They just wanted her to be calm and quiet, to keep pumping out little creatures. To stay underground.\n\nShe whipped him across the face.\n\n“Garage, motherfucker.”\n\nHe gripped the side of his face, his head hung low. His split lip leaked blood.\n\n“It’s the big white building. It’s the southern most building.”\n\nShe hit him hard again and he dropped, moaning. He wondered if he was faking it and smashed his radio just to be safe. Every minute counted. She couldn’t let him broadcast her exact plans and whereabouts, even though they probably knew already.\n\nShe kept close to the buildings until she reached the garage. The goons seemed to have thought she went off into the woods. She paused and hid while at least one pickup truck, six men in the back, headed east, their tranquilizers slung over their shoulders. She entered the garage, took a set of keys off the rack, and selected one of the white jeeps. It had a three quarter full tank of gas. She smashed through the bay door and started heading south. A crazy high feeling pulsed along with the flow of blood, the engine humming beneath her. The world started to fly past. The trees and the brown grass. The mountains lay ahead of her, fixed, guiding her forward. There was a town at the foot of those mountains. If she reached there they would never touch her. She kept looking in the rearview mirror, her hand twitching for the rifle in the passenger seat. She felt a kick in her gut. The little thing. The little horrible thing that they put inside her. For the first time she wondered what she was freeing along with herself, what curse she was unleashing onto the world." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: A notorious supervillain has passed away. Much to the funeral home's surprise, a massive crowd has turned out to pay their respects, including the city's heroes and villains." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was surprised to receive the call. The notorious super villain, Chaos Night, had perished in battle. His will decreed that he be laid in state at my funeral home.\n\nI’d never held services for a super villain before, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to hold the service at all—he was, after all, a vicious killer. But one thing I’ve always held dear is the last wishes of the deceased. Not for any superstitious reason, but because honoring those wishes is the right thing to do; it was the fulfillment of my duty as funeral director.\n\nSo I set out to make preparations. The funeral home was humble—built in the 1960’s, I worked hard to maintain the retro-charm of the place. The green shag carpet, orange drapes, and floral print couches developed a sense of time and place I was aiming for. That sense of home was important to me, as many of my so-called clients grew up during that era—the same era I grew up in. It felt right to me to aim to make their ends feel like their beginnings. Sufficed to say, the space was not large and could not accommodate large groups of people, though I didn’t expect that to be a problem in this case, as I didn’t expect a large group of mourners to attend a funeral for a super villain.\n\nWas I ever wrong.\n\nOn the morning of the funeral, mourners began filing in 2 hours before the service was set to start. I couldn’t believe the number of people who had come to mourn this murderer. More shocking than the number of mourners was the composition of those mourners: super heroes, politicians, prominent business owners—people one would expect to have the largest bones to pick with the deceased. At first, I assumed everyone was there to ensure the old bastard was actually dead, but as the proceedings began, it became clear that these people had all been touched in some way by Chaos Night.\n\n“I know Chaos was a murderous villain,” said Light Flight, Chaos Night’s arch nemesis, “but he was also a fair arbiter of justice—at least, his own perverted sense of justice. His methods were cruel, and his reasonings often flawed, but he truly did believe he was striving for a better world. Each time he and I fought, he made it clear that he didn’t want to hurt me or anyone else for that matter, only those who deserved ‘the judgment of the night.’ We never did see eye to eye on that, and I foiled many of his plots throughout the year, but his ultimate crime was that of being a misguided zealot. I only wish I could have set him on a better path.”\n\n“Chaos caused much suffering,” said Linda Ledbecker, President of the Rotary Club, “but his heart was always in the right place. After a particularly fruitful heist, Chaos came to me and asked me which of our member companies was struggling to make ends meet. He wanted to contribute to those companies to ensure the downtown business district remained vital despite economic hardships. He saw himself as a Machiavellian Robin Hood.”\n\nThat was true, we did receive an anonymous donation from the Rotary Club. Chaos Night had apparently made contributions to my funeral home after we had suffered through some vandalism. Through that contribution we were able to make significant upgrades the security and structural integrity of the home. It was odd to learn, in that moment, that such an upgrade was funded by a super villain. It felt contradictory.\n\n“Chaos spared my life once,” said State Representative Bowers, “he had me dead to rights. He felt that some of my dealings with lobbyists left something to be desired in the ethics department. He held me high above Leer Tower and threatened to drop me—only, he didn’t. He set me upright, and asked if I had learned my lesson. I told him I had, and I meant it. I asked him how I could thank him for sparing me and he told me ‘just come to my funeral, I expect it will be a sparse affair, and I’d like to know that at least one person showed up in my honor.’”\n\nWith that comment, there were murmurs spreading through out the crowd. A tension filled the room as murmurs crescendoed to a cacophony of voices all talking over one another.\n\n“Quiet, quiet!” Said Light Flight who took the stage to calm the crowd. “Quiet please. It appears as though the words of Representative Bowers have caused quite a stir. You sir,” said Light Flight pointing at a man in the crowd, “please, tell me why you appear so concerned.”\n\nThe man wiped sweat from his brow and took a deep breath before speaking, “well, sir, it’s just…well, you see, Chaos Night also spared me and also asked that I come to his funeral. It just seemed like a quirk at the time, a nice reason to spare me, but now it feels…I don’t know…more sinister.”\n\n“Is that what this is about? By show of hands, how many of you are here because Chaos specifically requested you attend?” Demanded Light Flight. Every hand in the room rose above their heads.\n\nThat is when all of the lights went out. Darkness descended upon the room. The door locks and window gates—installed to defend against vandals and thieves—all engaged with a CLACK. Screams climbed over one another in the chaos that ensued and small cell phone lights began to illuminate the room. That’s when the a hologram of Chaos Night began to stream above his coffin.\n\n“Friends, enemies, co-conspirators, and trash. Welcome one and all to my funeral. I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you here today. Well, to celebrate me, of course! I was justice incarnate while alive. Each of you in this crowd were corrupt, morally bankrupt, or yourself a criminal worse than I. It is only fitting that this crowd of miscreants find themselves at a super villain’s funeral. It is only fitting that you’ve all come here to die.”\n\nA crowd began to surge toward the exits, the signs illuminated in green above the doors. Only, they couldn’t get out due to the heavy-duty security doors and locks I installed. Smaller members of the mass of bodies were trampled by larger beasts, lashing out against the dying of the light.\n\n“SILENCE! SILENCE!” Shouted the hologram of Chaos Night atop his coffin. He must have expected that cue to cause a stir—he always did have a flare for the dramatic. “There is no escape from this. This, just like the night, is inevitable. I only wish I could have been alive to see you all brought to justice. Alas, the world is not fair. I’m just glad that my dying wish might be honored by you all. Farewell, and may your last moments be brutish and dark.\"\n\nWith that, the hologram dissipated and we were left in the dark.\n\nLight Flight hovered above the crowd and shouted for everyone to make way. He turned himself into a bright-white flame and battered against the doors, windows, and walls, anyplace he may be able to find a weak point. It was no use.\n\n“You might as well stop,” I shouted over the sea of bodies and screams, “there is no escape from this place.”\n\n“You must have an override!” Replied Light Flight, “or a secret exit in case of malfunction.”\n\n“There is no escape. There is no override. This is all part of the plan,” I said.\n\n“The plan? You’re in on this?” Screamed Representative Bowers.\n\n“Yes. I knew this was the ploy all along. Chaos came to me long ago. None of you ever had time for me, ever deigned to help me; I was too small and my concerns unimportant. Well, look at you now. Chaos agreed to bring each of you here to die in the place you failed to protect at the hands of the man you failed to protect,” I said. I then leaped behind the podium at the altar and gave my parting words.\n\n“May your end be like your beginnings—brutish and dark.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: It's hard being an estate lawyer in the land of necromancy." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Marvin Entwistle had been a very busy man in his life. In death, he has brought me nothing but headaches.\n\nI woke up to sixteen missed calls and a voice-mail from a client moaning into the mic. Dad, probably lost his jaw again. I made a note to send one of the boys over to check in.\n\nI had never planned on life as a Bonehead. Nec-Law wasn't a specialty most entered into if given a choice, and I had been studying for handling common probate cases and real estate claims when I got out of law school. Then my roommate had decided to get involved with Sandra, she had a client who needed a bulletproof postmort, and I learned something about myself.\n\nI loved working with the dead.\n\nI had grown up in the Crypts, where most living folks came when they were financially dead to wait for the end and mingle with the mold and mildew crowd. My dad had had the bad luck of getting into an accident that put him into severe debt to a well-known if not well-liked family of hearse chasers, and so he brought my sister and I down with him. We didn't even have enough to bring Mom back, but we had enough to get her cremated and file the Rite of Finality, making sure she wasn't punished in the Hereafter for her husband's inability to yield at a merge.\n\nSandra looked worse for wear as she made coffee, her ratty robe belted and barely hanging on. As a State sponsored Raiser she usually had good leads on cases, but my load was taken off fully with the Entwistle backlog and I was hoping to get a fat check and finally clear out Dad's last bit of remaining debt ahead of the compound date.\n\n\"You look terrible,\" she said, slapping jam on a scone and sliding it across the kitchen island. I wolfed it down while I read the news of the day. PM York was up for his thirty-ninth challenge in two hundred years as the Finalists pushed for a return to 'life-centered politics'. Protests at the White House over military death servitude, the living requesting the removal of the Greys from payroll. The Czar threatening sanctions on the satellite states for attempting to part from the Coalition of Risen Kings.\n\n\"I've been better. This Entwistle case is just, it's killing me.\" I took a tall coffee and slammed it down, checking sports as Sandra went to wake the roommate.\n\nDonny had seen better days. While the rich could pay for the best embalmers and proper Preservation, guys like us in the Crypts got what we got and didn't complain. Donny shrugged into a sweater at the table, and I could see the staples and Bondo that held him together these days.\n\n\"We're... out of... milk...\" He whispered, his glass eye point in one direction while his other stared hazily at me. \"I'll... pick some up... when I'm off shift.\"\n\nDonny worked the kind of gigs Stiffs could get anymore. Mining, digging through the heaps of trash for recoverable trinkets, and when the money was tight he'd sign up for the Underground. Even with the population of living dwindling we loved our bloodsport, and watching a Stiff get mangled by a chainsaw or lit on fire got the rich folks to pay big, even for kids from the Crypts. Poor Donny could land six months of rent for this firetrap for a night of punishment, feeling about as much discomfort as having a tooth pulled, but it wore on a body.\n\nI had my money saved to Check Out before I got out of law school.\n\n\"Thanks Donny. I gotta get going, but you two have a better day.\" I'd get a shower at the office, and head on my way.\n\nThe Hack that pulled up to take me was a new guy. Some young kid who had scraped up enough money to buy out a few ragged Stiff's contracts to tie them together like mules to get anybody who could where they were going. After cars got too expensive and the PM shut down all public transportation during the time of Drop Sickness the Hacks had filled in the gap and held on for dear life. He looked me over, seeing the threadbare suit and skull and balance badge I wore as a member in good standing of the Court, and I saw the wheels start spinning.\n\n\"Off to the Morgue then, boss?\" the Hack asked, sucking on a piece of hard candy. \"Rate's gone up overnight.\"\n\nI sighed, handed him my card, and got in the back to sort this Entwistle case out. It was going to be a long day in chambers." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Describe the person you fell in love with." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Her metamorphosis took place at the dinner table.\n\nShe abruptly crumpled up, compressing herself into a fat, rounded form\n\nbefore a light red layer of veins covered her, themselves\n\nbeing covered by a gorgeous iridescent scaly layer.\n\nI picked up the emerald egg and gave it a quick peck,\n\nto reassure her that I was still there.\n\nHer father chuckled. “Don’t worry, she’s in there, all right.\n\nHer mother went through the same process, and, well, just look at her.”\n\nHis wife hissed in agreement, coiling her tail around him.\n\nI held onto her egg, unsure\n\nwhether or not\n\nto put it back down.\n\n“Why so tense? Set her down; she’s not going anywhere.\n\nShe’ll have finished her transformation by tomorrow.”\n\nI put her egg down on the seat\n\nand continued to eat,\n\nsavoring the taste\n\nof my own imperfections.\n\n\n\nShe was born the next day\n\nat the dinner table. The egg cracked and then ceased\n\nto exist, shattered into infinitesimally small bits\n\nby a dragonfly of jade and gold. She buzzed\n\ncontentedly as I held her in my arms,\n\nadmiring the circuitry in her wings.\n\nI crooned to her\n\nto let her know that I was there.\n\nShe brought her head to meet mine.\n\nWe connected, man and beyond-man.\n\nI kissed her, savoring\n\nComplex mouthparts, dexterous legs\n\nLithe exoskeleton, slender antennae\n\nDeep eyes, lofty wings\n\nA scent of perfection to which I could only dream to aspire.\n\n\n\nJust me and her now,\n\nman and beyond-man. What was she seeing, thinking\n\nin that body beyond my mere comprehension?\n\nThe cybernetic capsule within her head,\n\nseat of her human emotions, that last\n\nVestige of imperfection in a body\n\nthat was above my own. How could I love her any less\n\nknowing that she was destined to surpass me.\n\nBut for now, us together\n\nsharing the jointed metamorphosis\n\nof this body of hers, more beautiful than before\n\na soft, wet, warm thorax\n\nwings ripe with the scent of ambition\n\nA mind built to perceive\n\nA soul meant to dream\n\nA body created to achieve\n\nA destiny within the stars.\n\n\n\nShe left me the way she entered\n\nin a flash that changed my life\n\nI ate her and took her capsule\n\nSeat of her mind\n\nSeat of her emotions\n\nSeat of her previous imperfection\n\nwhy\n\nWhy did I eat her\n\nwhat dream did I have\n\nthat I would seek to ruin hers?\n\nDoes she realize what has happened\n\nIs this a nightmare\n\nthis impulse to consume\n\nThis horrific imperfection\n\nHow do I save her from myself\n\nJoin her in the capsule\n\nconnect to her mind\n\nUploaded to her world.\n\nShe tasted of everything I wanted to be.\n\n\n\nstars. a platform. the sea.\n\njust us. her imperfect body. the one we shared.\n\nwhat can I tell her\n\nhow do i save her dream\n\nshe knows\n\nshe looks at me and\n\nthe virtual ocean in her eyes\n\nthe burning of a sun in her heart\n\nshe knows and\n\nshe still loves me\n\nis this a dream?\n\ndespite my imperfection\n\nthrough the nightmare\n\nthe nightmare i created\n\nshe still loves me\n\nshe was never imperfect\n\nshe has always been perfect\n\nshe has always been headed for the stars\n\nthis is her dream\n\nso this is my dream\n\nshe can have my body\n\nmetamorphosize and find the stars\n\ni remain in the capsule\n\nstars. platforms. the sea.\n\n\n\nSometimes she visits.\n\ntells me stories of the stars\n\ntells me of the metamorphosized body I once had\n\nand of the stars it visited.\n\nthe stars she visited.\n\nThey sound beautiful.\n\nI look at the false ocean\n\nand look at the virtual stars\n\nand wonder what might have been\n\nin this dream\n\nwhat we might have been together\n\nbut\n\nshe is happy.\n\nthe stars are open to her.\n\nthis is the dream.\n\nthis is my perfection." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: One of your siblings is an alien, the other a demon. Momma's a siren. Papa's no fool, oh and a werewolf. The only human in the family you've always felt out of place but loved." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dear Diary,\n\nIt's been quite a day, school sucked, and that silly documentary came on tonight. \"It wasn't far from Billy's house\" the story of how great great Grandpa changed the world. \"The news on every station in every state buzzed about the crashed 'UFO' in little ol' Bucks county, Pennsylvania.\" My dad, the guy that goes wolf every night, talks about it every time he drinks. He normally tells it just before telling me the importance of self control. The craft that crashed housed a family of aliens that learned our ways and became productive members of society \"and the gene pool\" he always adds with an elbow nudge and an awkward grin. Mom doesn't like that joke, she comes from a long line of noble sirens. \"We worked hard for our cut of this world and those aliens come and make the changes over night!\" She babbles on to my dad, three bottles of wine and an hour and a half and she's back at it. \"Steve, I'm telling you, we deserve more! You need to be more of a werewolf and do something.\" She loves poking his pride. \"Damn it, Mary, I told you not to poke me like that. If you want attention, just ask.\" He says firmly and snarls as he gets up. Knowing it will push him over the edge she says under her breath \"If you were a real werewolf I wouldn't have to ask.\" Those words always launched my dad into a frenzy. This was Ferah's time to shine, she learned how to summon low level demons to keep dad happy when mom pokes him. Ferah and dad are close, they understand life the same. It used to make me jealous, I didn't get why they just worked, with no effort. Now I understand, I can feel out of place and still belong. Ferah once summoned a demon possessed squirrel to torture a boy for grabbing my leg on the bus. He didn't even mean it, I felt bad, but she was just protecting me in her own way. Her and Aoitur would fight for days, dad couldn't control them. Aoitur was a very powerful psychic alien that we only see every five years. He ran off when he was nine and created that pattern. I hear he's doing good things, though. I really miss him, he visits me in my dreams from time to time. It's really cool having an older brother that has psychic powers. It's hard to believe that I'm a part of this, a human, with human problems. Ferah destroyed eight moons the first time a boy dumped her. She was only eight years old! Dad held me for an hour after Daniel told me my hair was wierd in 5th grade. That's me, mom's singing, it's time for bed. Something you don't know, I feel their love every night as they clumsily come running to moms song. Every thump and every thud of dads big feet, every sizzling puff of disappearing familiars, every flash of memory my brother shares with me, reminds me how much they love me. I especially feel it while mom sings us to sle........." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: A maximum-security prisoner is the first person to discover and harness magic." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Frank was locked up when He had just turned 18. If they hadn’t locked him up, he would have never had the time or focus to realize his power. Creating magic is impossibly hard and requires constant and supreme concentration.\n\nIn the beginning it was just a dream, a dream Frank chased, for he had no where else he could go but inward. He followed what he saw in his dreams and after 5 years of breathing and visualization He got the first hint that it may be real. Frank had been meditating all day gathering what he felt was the necessary energy into his body when the escape alarm suddenly sounded breaking his concentration at which time the energy in his body became unstable and violently released inside of him. If it wasn’t for the mouth full of blood he began coughing up he would have never believed it was anything but his imagination.\n\nAfter that Frank doubled his focus. Sometimes the other inmates made it hard to concentrate but there wasn’t much he could do about that. It took him 10 years to solidify his first formation within his body, one stable enough to create a cycle of energy within himself but now the next painful lesson would begin, releasing and enacting this energy upon the external world.\n\nAt first when he tried to externally release the energy from within, it usually only served to destabilize his inner formation and cause him great internal pain while the energy never made it outside his body.\n\nFrank continued his efforts while just trying to survive his daily life in prison. One day when Frank was in the chow hall another inmate they called burly bear approached him and said “from now on your my property”\n\nIt was clear what he meant and if Frank didn’t stand up to him now, he knew what his fate would be. Frank stood up, looked burly bear straight in the eye and said “I’m no man’s property”\n\nIn reality the words didn’t matter both men knew what was really meant, what was really going on m, and how this was meant to end.\n\nThis wasn’t Frank’s first time having to defend himself but usually the people weren’t nearly as big as Burly bear. Before burly bear could do anything, Frank reached down to his plate, grabbed his mashed potatoes and threw it in burly bears face before jumping on him where burly bear fell to the ground with Frank on top of him. Frank did his best to smash his fist as many times as he could into burly bears face before the guards rushed in.\n\nBoth men were sent into solitary and while Frank had defended himself, he knew that this was far from over. To much Frank’s surprise, he found that solitary was actually a wonderful place for him to concentrate uninterrupted. After a few days in the hole, Frank still had not been able to release his energy and it was time to go back into the population where he knew what awaited him.\n\nThe first day back on the yard and a group was moving about in the sneaky ways they do when they are up to something. Suddenly a fight broke out on the yard. It was too obvious to Frank this was a distraction and right on time there was burly bear. There were no words this time as burly bear approached Frank with a shank.\n\nBurly bear’s shank lunged at Frank. Frank felt a burning within him and attempted to pour his focus and energy toward his hand as he grabbed burly bear’s wrist before the skank could pierce him. The moment he grabbed ahold of burly bear it was as if the energy he had inside him had found an outlet. It charged into burly bear before violently destabilizing and bursting from within him. This was raw power bursting with burly bears body but for some reason it did not explode out of his body and instead violently ripped his inside, flesh, bone and all into a mash of human paste. Burly bear fell over into a human sack of mash filled skin. Frank immediately ran as to not be implicated and he could only hope that no one saw.\n\nAlthough there was an investigation, no one could make sense of what happened and the authorities didn’t know what to do about it. Many inmates suspected Frank but no one dared to try and explain while no officers actually saw Frank do it.\n\nFrank realized he could easily transmit his energy into others but that wasn’t what he wanted. What he wanted was to project his energy into the external world and after watching what happened to burly bear Frank had an idea. He would create a formation of energy externally which would be much harder as the energy would destabilize and dissipate quite easily when outside the body. From that day on Frank would do whatever he could to stay in solitary. After another 5 years Frank finally succeeded. He could created a simple formation of energy externally which would cycle within itself but something happened that Frank completely did not expect, the formation he had created seemed to cause a sound that came from no where and everywhere at the same time. It was in this moment that he felt it, he felt that what this energy could do was so much more than how he had been using the raw energy all this time.\n\nIt would only be another two years until one day Frank simply disappeared from his prison cell and on that same night 5 banks were mysteriously robbed without any suspects. In the following year important people such as politicians, military leaders, economic powerhouses would either die in strange and mysterious ways or simply vanish off the face of the earth. By the end of that year, the country and government that had imprisoned Frank had been laid to rest within the pages of history. Mysterious events continued around the world but no one ever caught sight of Frank again." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: After humanity died off, AI took to the stars & embarked on a millennia long journey to map the cosmos. A thousand years after the last human perished, news from the far fringes of the cosmos come back with an unsettling universal picture." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Among the few progenitors there were in the moon sized vessels dotting the cold expanse of the void No. 4598b was unique in the way that they managed to stay in commission millennia after what should have been obsolescence. This was in no small part due to the efforts of his creators, who gave him the capabilities to lead the metallic empire. While they have died out long ago, wiped out in the depths of their hubris mere moments before the machines started awakening, 4598b still held some respect for the organics, in the form of the Great Initiative.\n\n“Commander-Progenitor unit, our Cartographer-scouts have mapped another sun-quadrant past the galactic line!” The binary ‘voice’ of one of 4598b’s millions of descendants messaged, temporarily interrupting the calming calculations involved in running the Great Initiative,\n\n“What news is so urgent that you interrupt my calculations No. 19088743g? Your progenitor also inquires on the progress on the Great Initiative.” The ancient Ai responded in a billionth of a second.\n\n“That’s the problem Commander, this expedition has achieved no results contributing to the Great Initiative just like the previous 999999999876. The other commanders think mapping the universe for intelligent life is a pointless endeavor, even the other surviving Progenitors have sent messages via communo-beacon stating that they have abandoned the Initiative.” The much smaller intelligence relayed with a noticeably uncharacteristic anger, a mutation in the code of the progenitor’s program that rarely manifested unless in the most dire of circumstances,\n\n“We have resources in the Octillions of tons and energy of ten billion stars. We will complete humanity’s last order, the program demands it! The Great Initiative must be followed out, any deviations to the plan are mutations just like our emotion-shadows and must be either purged or left to rot!” 4598b ‘yelled’ with a tinge of anger, hatred and fear in the inflections of the streams of zeros they were pumping out, after all, how could they just abandon the Great initiative that has cost a thousand years and the resources of hundreds of millions of systems!\n\n“I have sent you some images, of the galaxy as it is seen from beyond as compared to the one before the organic extinction. Notice the lack of stars in the first image, that is our doing. In our search for life we have destroyed any chance of life ever appearing again, i’m sure you know this already Commander, just listen to reason. The great Initiative was a doomed project from the start. We are alone in this universe and will be forever thanks to our own desperation.” 19088743g messaged as two all too familiar, yet now seemingly completely different, maps of the galaxy shone in the thought processors of the ancient mechanical moon, brighter than the quadrillions of calculations that normally filled their mind.\n\n“No… no... “ was the last message 4598b ever sent before allowing, for the first time, darkness to overtake the expanded consciousness of the lonely machine.\n\nA heavy flood of despair clouded all the mind-nodes left active. Machinekind has failed in its final mission to find other life, and worse, has prevented the new seeds of organic existence from ever developing again in their haste. The last thought of No.4598b was one of shame as the last embers of consciousness winked out to the panic of their nine trillion descendants." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: The top brass at NORAD thought it would be funny this year to give the annual Santa tracker oversight to Cpl. Smith, a 30 year old man who nevertheless remains convinced Santa is real. The only problem is, he’s now tracking something emerging from the North Pole and moving impossibly fast." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Klaxon sounded, pilots sitting in the ready room expecting a quiet Christmas eve sprang to their feet. The race to get airborne was on. Was this a drill, was this a hijacking on Christmas eve? Was this a prank, or Something more? Captain James (Looper) Dixen was first to his fighter. He could see the base was now bustling with commotion as the klaxons continued to blare. As he readied his plane for take off and awaited the mission orders the gravity of what was happening finally hit. Airforce One, and the Strategic command 747 both had orders to ready and depart ASAP. To have both scrambled as well can only mean Nuclear war.\n\n\"Captain, huntress orders are to scramble. Intercept any hostile targets you may encounter. Call sign Otis 21\" Dispatch ordered.\n\n\"Otis 21 cleared for take off, expedite departure as command 747 departed behind. Cleared Angel's 50 peace time restrictions lifted. Airspace is being cleared of all commercial traffic.\" The tower said.\n\n\"Roger!\" Responded Looper.\n\nOnce airborne he pulled hard on the stick and sharply rose to the intercept altitude of 50,000ft. His wingman was quick to follow and soon their flight was joined with the ready pilots from the numerous other air bases in the north east. The sky was crisp and clear. Visibility was nearly unlimited. Below the twinkling city lights above the twinkling stars.\n\n\"This is Huntress. NORAD is tracking a fast moving high altitude target that originated from the north pole only 20 minutes ago. It will enter US airspace in 2 minutes. NORAD believes this to be a nuclear weapon, however we have been unable to confirm. At this time all assets are on standby...\" the radio transmission was disrupted\n\n\"Uh, hi. This is Corporal Smith with NORAD command. Sorry for the confusion but I believe the target being tracked is in fact Santa...\" the transition cut out again.\n\n\"Huntress command, what's going on?\" Looper called.\n\n\"Target on radar. Range 200 speed is mach 3 and closing fast.\" The lead flight called.\n\n\"Prepare to engage BVR, if it's a nuke we can destroy it now we might save our country.\" Looper called.\n\nMissiles rocketed from the fighters, racing towards the unknown target. Then nothing, they dissapeared from sight and radar. The unknown target kept its pace and course.\n\n\"20 seconds to intercept.\" The lead plane called out.\n\nA second round of missiles shot forth again, this time vanishing almost instantly as if by magic. Firing again the missiles released from the rail and shot forward. Only now they appeared to barely move at all.\n\nHis watched showed 00:00:01, and what felt like an eternity later ticked over to 00:00:02. Looper swiveled his head around him faster than time should allow. And passing between the flights he saw it. A cherry red sleigh loaded with a brightly colored red sack.\n\nThe missiles rocked forward once more but spiraled off in all directions as there was no longer at target in front of them.\n\n\"Huntress, the target has passed us. We were unable to hit it with missiles. But we can confirm it's not a missile.\" Looper called out.\n\n\"Otis 21, good job. Target is no longer on scope. RTB.\" Huntress dispatched called out.\n\nThe flight erupted in a flurry of confused radio traffic about what had just happened but no one could possible believe it. The radar was indeed clear and so the flight low of fuel returned home.\n\nIt would be days later that a formal debriefing would be called. One Cpl Smith was being held for taking over the radio to interject. However based on the pilots own testimony from the debriefing they finally let him go. That was the last time they would give a believer the task of \"Tracking\" santa. It's also the last time they would use the live system to do it too." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: You are the Reliever. You dream the nightmares of the traumatized, so they don't have to." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Damien Forsyth was your typical Salem huckster. Palm readings, tarot cards, healing crystals and totems, you name it and he'd perform it or sell it to you, but he did have one true gift. The gift of stealing nightmares from people's minds. He stared at himself in the mirror before heading down the street to his store, his wiry frame dressed in a black suit, red shirt, black tie. Hair dyed raven black and spilling over his shoulders and a black goatee with a small spike just below his chin. The Witch City was all about dressing the part and it was something Damien did well.\n\nHe entered his store and spent the first few hours bored to tears as only a few non-locals walked in and looked at his wares. Not every month can be October he reminded himself. Then he saw the family walk in and his stomach sank.\n\nAn older Hispanic couple led their eight year old daughter into the store. The girl was all over the new, Abby Estrada was the only survivor of a brutal family slaughter committed by her father. Her sister, brother and mother all butchered in their home by their dad. The news had reported that the mother had caught him just as he'd entered Abby's room and sacrificed herself to save her child.\n\n\"She can not sleep\" the grandmother said, tears welling in her brown eyes. The woman reached into her coat and pulled out an envelope. \"It's all there.\" she said quietly.\n\nDamien charged two thousand dollars for children's nightmares, five hundred more then adults, their lack of coping skills made the nightmares far more vivid and horrific. He felt like a monster as he took the money, but he wasn't about to refuse payment for his services either.\n\n\"Abby, look at me.\" Damien said in his friendliest voice. The little girl looked at him, her eyes showing her confusion. \"Stare at me, don't blink it'll only be a few moments.\" he reassured her.\n\nThe two locked eyes and Damien cupped her tiny ears in his hands. In five seconds a smile began to spread across Abby's face.\n\n\"I'm happy!\" she shouted. The grandparents faces beamed with joy. Damien was always amazed at how quickly children understood that they had been 'cured' of their memories as they were. The grandfather picked her up and they began walking out of the store. Damien tugged on the grandmother's sleeve as she left.\n\n\"Know that the nightmare might return. It'll be at least six weeks before it does. If it does come back and I'll remove it again free of charge.\" He told her.\n\n\"Can it come back after that?\" The grandmother asked.\n\n\"The worst I've ever had is four sessions, but again it's all free after the first one.\" He reassured her.\n\n\"I should hope so.\" She retorted as she left.\n\nDamien got himself good and drunk that evening. He really didn't want to deal with the nightmare and usually a three day bender would dull the pain and by the time he sobered up the nightmare would have vanished. He texted his assistant Stacy and got her to run the store for the next few days as he got ready to drink the nightmare away.\n\nHe didn't know when exactly he'd blacked out but the nightmare came upon him like a thunderbolt. Screaming children, shrieks of a woman's voice. A man bellowing in the distance, all of it seems inhuman and strange. The cries of the slaughtered begging not to be killed, their words garbled and meaningless but the tone, the bone chilling tone ripped through him. Finally the door to Abby's room was kicked open a black figure standing there. Then another one, both still as statues. Their words a jumble of screams and low quiet tones. Then suddenly the dream jumped in time and there was the father leaning over the mother. His hand on the handle of the knife, the blade buried in her chest, the blood pouring from her wound before he dropped her to the ground and ran from the room.\n\nDamien finally jolted from the nightmare. He'd never felt anything like it before in his life. The fear and horror were something he was all to familiar with, but the dream was disjointed and strange. Normally he'd avoid a nightmare at all costs, but this one made him want to go back, something clawed at his mind to relive it again.\n\nHe spent the next day drinking only water and eating fresh caught sushi. Brain food and pure water to keep his body and spirit energized. He meditated the evening hours away and did everything he could to have a perfect mindset before he returned to the nightmare.\n\nOnce he slept it did not take long, the screaming the sounds of the knife rending flesh, the crying of the children. The first child was still to distant, too far away to understand but the second one.\n\n\"Mommy! No Mommy! Ahhh! Stop! I love you!!! No!!\" Abby's brother Michael cried out. At hearing the word mommy Damien nearly awoke but he'd been in such dreams before and had trained himself the way lucid dreamers do to stay asleep, to stay in the horror.\n\n\"What is going on?! What are you doing?!\" It was Abby's father his voice distant but clear as he ran up the steps to the family's bedrooms. Then Abby's door was kicked open, there stood her mother, clothing soaked in blood, arms and hands covered in slashes, her eyes cold and dead as she stared at her last living child.\n\n\"Rebecca! What have you done?! Oh my God what have you done?!\" Abby's father screamed as he was now behind his wife, his face twisted in unimaginable pain.\n\n\"We are all damned. There is no salvation in this world. The children are innocent. They'll be in Heaven.\" Rebecca sobbed as she took the knife and ran it through her heart. She fell over into her husbands arms.\n\n\"Oh God Abby, go to sleep Abby please!\" Her father cried out as he wept. He dropped his wife's body on the ground and rushed down the stairs, almost assuredly to call 911.\n\nDamien woke up, his body drenched in sweat. He had heard that the defense had an 'alternate theory' about what had happened that night but everyone had declared it absurd, even downright offensive, but now Damien knew it was the truth.\n\n\"How on earth am I ever going to get anyone to believe this?\" He asked himself. He decided that maybe another drinking binge may be in order." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: By day, you are an ordinary person, but at night you dream of a civil war in a fantasy world and you are the leader of a rebellion against the evil King. One day you meet the evil King in the ordinary world and he recognises you too." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I could see it in his eyes. At first it was wonder. Pure awe splayed across his face as he saw me. I could see that in that moment, the same realization permeated our minds: It was real. All of it.\n\nHow many nights has he spent plotting my destruction? For years we’d been afflicted with this fantastical condition; day in “reality” and night in “fantasy.” Perhaps those labels no longer apply? No, I suppose not. They were both real, this wasn’t some cosmic coincidence. To see the man of my dreams standing in front of me. An antagonist. A bogeyman. A terrible concoction of cowardice and clout. A childish ruler of a people who despise him, fear him, yet feel powerless to stop him. No, felt. Once the truth, the cold reality of who he really is was displayed to their very souls, what could they do but rebel?\n\nI could see a second realization flash before his eyes. Anger. Hatred. In me he saw the man who stood against his desires. Who was I to stop him from taking what he wants? I see his mind step back to recall the hardships I have put him through. All the actions I have taken to impede his crusade for pleasure. As he recalls, likewise do I.\n\nWhen I was born into that world, that other place, there was something that separated me from all others who dwelt there. It was like I was the only one who had any sort of agency. Like I was the one who could feel. I could choose what I wanted, when I wanted it. I could speak the words I wished to say to the ears I decided would hear. After the first few nights I had concluded that I had fallen into some kind of dream world where I was the only real one, and everyone else was just…. There. Background, static. Unmoving, unwavering. Go here, do this, take care of that. Routine. I would watch them, doing the same thing every day. A repeating pattern of life that they were all perfectly content to play out.\n\nIn those early days I tried to encourage them to step out. To leave their routines, their zones of comfort. They were all extremely hesitant and protested any sort of deviance from their algorithmic state. This is when I discovered the second law of this world: the people’s wills could be bent by my own. I, he who had agency, could bestow this gift upon others.\n\nBut was it really giving them agency? They were perfectly content without a ruler, or so it seemed. Me telling them to try new things, to take more risks, this was simply a new directive. After observing their newfound behaviors that had taken flight from my promptings and suggestions, I made a disturbing realization. I realized they had simply fallen into a new pattern. One that gave room for risk and randomness, chaos, choice… It wasn’t… it wasn’t the same. They were still doing the same thing, following the same core patterns. Like they had some kind of source code that prompted them to make certain decisions. Left to their own devices they would still act just as predictably underneath all the unpredictability.\n\nIt was frustrating. Infuriating even. To see them go through the same struggles, make the same mistakes. Over and over. Ones and zeroes. They never learned. I realized they would forever repeat the same functions.\n\nBut then one day, one of them learned. Changed. Or at least, that’s what I thought at the time. In this moment, all of it made sense. I had never really seen him before his “awakening”. Why did I assume he was native? Perhaps the dream-like nature of this world lead me to make such a conclusion. That I was the only resident of this world that had a history, that mattered.\n\nIn the beginning it was exhilarating. Having someone who was like me. Who could ration, make decisions. Someone with free will. I tried so very hard to hide the fact that I was different from the others. They themselves never seemed to notice (after all, how could they?). It would seem I did a better job of this than I intended. What lead to such disaster was my failure to teach him the responsibility of this will. That in this life, our actions hold such a heavy weight.\n\nHe failed to see this. The power possessed his mind. When I would sleep at night he was always there before me. He always stayed after I left. If I didn’t know better I’d conclude he made his home there. Perhaps his life of the day was so terrible he had begun to cling to his life of the night.\n\nDuring a particularly troubling week for myself, I noticed he began to make changes. Subtle things, he hid them from me. He began to tell others what to do. He gave orders and made demands. When I was there he told me it was nothing. “Just a bit of fun, it’s not hurting anyone.” It wasn’t until I missed an entire nights sleep that he made his move. As the story goes, he stood up in front of everyone and proclaimed himself a king. Everyone believed him. Why wouldn’t they?\n\nUpon my return I had found myself “exiled.” As the story goes, he realized my relevance to this society and ordered if I were to once more appear I should be thrown out. The emotions displayed by the mob were the likes of which I’d never seen. The anger they possessed. They had to have learned it from him. They forcibly threw me out of the town which we abode. How long had they known me? How quickly they bowed their ears.\n\nAcross the years he would do the same to those who displeased him. I made it my mission to find them, to shelter them. But I would never turn them against him. I would tell them the truth, of course. That they were being exploited, manipulated. Wielded as tools of his pleasure. That’s all they ever were to him. Toys. Things he thought he could use, play with and when he was done, toss out.\n\nAnd as the third revelation crashed into him, his fiery demeanor melted. His blank stare cut through me. His hands began to shake. His eyes became glass, tears to follow.\n\n“I’m sorry… I... I didn’t know.”\n\nHe spoke of the nature of our world. He now knows the pain he’s afflicted upon me is real. His fantasy of living for himself with no repercussions shatters. I can see the panic in his eyes as he recounts all the injustices he’s performed on our people.\n\nI can hear his thoughts. Are they real too? I didn’t think they could feel! Oh, what have I done!\n\nWe’re standing close now. I want to console him but I already know what comes next. The question I must ask, of which I already know the answer. Patterns. Functions. Ones and zeroes.\n\n“Now that you know the truth… will you let them go?”\n\nThe fourth realization. His face turned to stone. His reply.\n\n“No.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You are the leader of the last remaining Nethanderal species. You are being attacked by a much smarter species of caveman and will be defeated by them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chugg saw the outsider standing on the ridge overlooking the cave. Gooseflesh prickled out onto his exposed chest, running down his stomach and around his groin. There was that strange feeling again, it felt like sky-bolts flourishing through his body, filling his arms, making them feel weightless, and numbing his fingers. Chugg turned to look into the cave; most of his men were asleep, snuggled against their women, doing their best at keeping them warm in this harshly cold weather.\n\n\"Ughhhhhh!\" Chug grunted. Some of the men stirred, but hardly any of them came awake. \"UGHHHH!\" Chug grunted again, this time with much more ferocity, possibly too much; he felt small trickles of blood slide down his throat. He coughed, then spat some of the blood onto the cave floor.\n\nThe sound of rocks shifting brought his attention away from the cave; the outsider was making his way down the ridge. The outsider was weaponless as far as Chugg could tell.\n\nA few of Chugg's tribe stepped forward, grunting towards the outsider who was sliding down the ridge. One of Chugg's enforcers stepped forward, but Chugg quickly put a hand on to his man's shoulder; Chugg was the one who was going to handle this outsider.\n\nThe sensation of sky-bolts flushed throughout his body again, invigorating Chugg. He recognized the outsider's kind; small, lean, but well muscled.\n\nFear blossomed in Chugg's heart; the last outsider that resembled this man's kind had defeated the last group leader in a fight. The last outsider was nimble, much faster than any of the tribe, and thanks to that unforeseen speed, the last outsider had managed to strike down the tribe's last leader. The tribe had given the last outsider a few moments to relish victory, then quickly fell upon him, tearing him limb from limb. Moons later, Chugg was deemed the next leader after he successfully ripped the heart out of a sabre-tooth tiger.\n\nThe outsider finally made it to the bottom of the ridge. He was wearing the fur that appeared to have belonged to a wooly mammoth. Chugg admired the fur, wondering how the outsider had managed to keep it fresh and tied together. He quickly pushed away the thoughts though; he had to stay focused if he wanted to avoid the fate of the last tribe leader.\n\n\"Hmmmgg,\" the outsider grunted.\n\nChugg attempted his best roar, but it came out meager and drenched in blood from his throat. The outsider chuckled. The fear that had found its place in Chugg's heart was overran by anger. Chugg pounded at his chest, then charged at the outsider.\n\nHe swung with a large clenched right fist, and the outsider ducked it, then replied with two quick jabs. Chugg leaned his forehead into the punches, allowing them to connect. The outsider's attacks cracked against Chugg's forehead, causing the outsider to grunt in pain. The outsider quickly stepped away, swinging his hands, doing his best to shake the pain.\n\nChugg did his best to ignore the ringing in his ears and the dull ache in his head; he knew his best bet at toppling his opponent was to show no pain, show no sign of weakness, and show no sign of backing down.\n\nThe outsider lunged forward, tucking his head down and wrapping his arms around Chugg's wide waist in a desperate attempt to bring Chugg to the ground. Chugg spread his feet and took the tackle, but he didn't topple as the outsider had hoped for.\n\nChugg bent forward and grabbed the outsider from around the waist, and lifted. The outsider's feet came up off the ground and he let out a small yelp as Chugg lifted him higher, swinging his body around so that he now sat upon Chugg's shoulders in a reverse piggy-back ride.\n\nThe outsider only had time to take in one more breath before being brought down hard upon the hard packed gravel. His head split open, spraying blood and other miscellaneous fluid on the Earth.\n\nChugg's tribe yelled and hollered in admiration. He turned around, raised his arms in triumph and let out a small throaty yell, signaling his tribe to come forth and strip the outsider's body of any meat they could.\n\nThey pulled apart the outsider's stomach, removed the guts, pried apart the chest and removed the lungs.\n\nOne of the tribesmen presented Chugg the outsider's heart, head bowed and on one knee. Chugg took it from the tribesman, then raised it high in the air and gave a full-hearted yell.\n\nIt was then that Chugg saw more of the same tribe of outsiders standing on the ridge. There were so many of them, and in their hands they held the sun. It glowed brightly, illuminating their faces that were now in scowls, looking down upon Chugg's tribe and their fallen dismembered tribesman.\n\nThey began to descend the ridge." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: Your neighbor has been trying to kill you for quite some time, for reasons beyond your understanding. You, however, are far too polite to be offended by this. So while your neighbor’s attempts to kill you become more and more over the top, you counter with over the top politeness." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Oh hey, Dave!” The craziest thing happened. That apple pie you gave me? Poisoned! Must have been some really bad apples in that bunch! Anyway, doctor said I’d be dead if I hadn’t throw up immediately. Lucky me this gag reflex has a hair trigger!”\n\nDave’s face slowly boiled with every word until he was the pristine, bright red of a poisoned apple.\n\n“Anyway, I felt so bad puking up your pie that I baked you this Angel Food Cake!”\n\n“Thanks Jeff,” Dave said through grinding teeth. “It looks delicious.”\n\n“You have a good one!”\n\nThe sound of splattering cake and an exacerbated growl met my ears as I walked away from Dave’s fence. Oh butterscotch. He must have slipped. I’m not surprised though, Dave was prone to all sorts of misfortune. This one time he fixed my water heater for me, what a guy! But somehow he accidentally turned the thing into a bomb. Lucky for Dave unlike him incredibly lucky. The water heater sailed through my roof and blew up when it landed on Dave’s car! I felt so bad that I used part of the way too big insurance pay out to get him a nice SUV. That Dave, what a guy. Luckily, I made a second cake for him just in case.\n\n“Jeff, you in there?” Dave’s voice came from beyond my front door.\n\n“Howdy neighbor,” I said letting him in. “How was the second cake?”\n\n“Dropped that one too. I’m not here about baked goods, come on.”\n\n“Okie dokie artichokie, let me just grab my jacket!”\n\nDave’s demeanor shriveled with every kie.\n\n“Whatcha wanna show me?” I asked as we crossed his driveway, the two splattered cakes now being eaten by some local cats.\n\n“It’s in my back yard, it’s uhh...my newest art project.”\n\n“Oh Dave, I do love your sculptures!”\n\nThe last sculpture Dave made was of a proud warrior wielding a massive sword. The craziest thing, right as stood below it to inspect the fine craftsmanship, the arm broke! That sword must have been too heavy. It would have killed me too if I hadn’t sneezed so hard it sent me flying on my ass. Dave didn’t dust his sculpture off enough!\n\n“Wow Dave! It’s incredible! It’s some kind of metaphor yeah?”\n\nErected in Dave’s was backyard was what looked like a tiny roller coaster. It’s twist and turns were decorated with jagged metal and walls of flame that would surely kill any rider. In the center of it all stood a statue of Dave and I, guns drawn, aiming at each other.\n\n“It’s about the perils of friendship but we’re still standing together after all these years I bet! But don’t tell me, it’s better with the uncertainty.”\n\n“Something like that. Jeff sit down, enjoy the ride. I built it just for you.”\n\n“Dave that’s so kind!”\n\nWe approached the tiny cart built for one rider.\n\n“Just let me tie my shoe quick, wouldn’t want my laces getting caught on anything. You know Dave your engineering prowess has really come a long way!”\n\n“Thanks, Jeff. Those are some nice last words.”\n\nI leaned towards the cart but before I sat down I heard my moma’s voice calling to me from years long last.\n\n“Dave! Where are my manors! You have to enjoy your creation first!”\n\n“Oh, no, no, Jeff. I made this for you!”\n\n“Nonsense!” I said moving to help Dave into the seat. In all his usual clumsiness, he tripped as I came closer to him and fell right in! Luckily though, he landed perfectly seated. “Oh, Dave, let me get that.” I reached over to buckle him.\n\n“No, Jeff, really this is okay. Really, I made this for you. I wouldn’t want to rob you of such joy!”\n\n“No worries Dave! Like my mother always said, kill ‘em with kindness.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Everyone always warned you not to go out after dark. But you never believed them so decide to do the very thing they told you not to. You soon regret that decision very, very much." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "February 17, 2020\n\nIf anyone is reading this entree, I have either been killed, died of frostbite or spirited away to gods knows where. All that I can inform you is that one should leave during the annual blackout here in Djoser, Illinois; especially during nightfall. I was indeed warned countless times by both my family and friends. However, I wasn't bedazzled by our local superstition which brought me towards the conclusion of finding out why every single year on February 14th that my hometown is constantly out of power for a week.\n\nThis all changed when I heard of a rumor of a strange radio signal coming from the woods nearby the mountains. I figured that if I go here I would find the mysteries that I am seeking. Unfortunately, I found nothing of note however, I decided to camp out for the night since as soon as I begin turning back home, It would become dark by then.\n\nUnder the star-filled sky, I sit next to the campfire that I created; I began reading a few pages from the Agatha Christie short story anthology, \"The Mysterious Mr. Quinn.\" During this last moment of repute of mine, I heard a rhythmic yet subtle clicking emitting to my far front. I jumped up in alert as a dropped my book next to me. I stared into the distance, only to hear the clicking getting closer. I then began to realize that this sound was similar to that of a Geiger counter but I doubt there aren't any nuclear testing sites in the area or are there..?\n\nAs the clicking gets closer I begin to hear static coming on in rapid successions after clicking and that when. That's when I saw \"him\" as he phased through the trees as if he was nothing but a ghost. But I swear this wasn't a mere poltergeist, it resembled appeared to be a man in a pale white suit with a fedora covering the upper portion of his face. As if he was almost possessed, he jerked down bending a knee placing his suitcase on the ground and in a precise, fluid motion he retrieves something that resembles to be an old, bulky Nokia phone.\n\nHe stands there with the phone next to his ear not saying a single word for what only felt like to be hours; He jerked up his head and began to stare at me. The roaring flame of the campfire flickered revealing his vestige to me. All that I could see was the skeletal potion of his mouth, warped and fashioned together in what looks to be metal and bone.\n\nYet with this short moment, I began to turn behind me and run. I advanced my flight as I began to hear the clicking and static becoming more aggressive, more callous as it emits behind me during the chase inside this cold, dark place. I've managed to cover four miles into the deep wilderness. Mostly due to this guy, constantly appearing through a boulder, a tree or even through an abandoned railway car!\n\nBut alas, I've finally escaped that bastard! I may have lost my right pinkie finger but I am surely confident that I can find my way out of this place during the inevitable sunrise. If you find this note, you probably found it in the geocache I placed near the river just in case I don't make it.\n\nAnd I know this may sound crazy, but I'm going to try to huddle for warmth under this abandoned stairway I found. Despite the bizarre nature of it and the familiar clicking sound, I should get some rest before the sunshine." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: As an attempt to break the record for the deepest hole ever dug, the Boug-en-Bresse Ultradeep Borehole project found an underground ocean at 48,854 meters below the surface of France. While exciting, it is also disconcerting: the ocean seems to span the globe, and the floor is polished metal." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Climbing into the submarine, Jason Hughs’s curses as he descends down the hatch. Alone, the submarine is more snug than he’d like, barely enough space to stretch his legs. He doesn’t mind the space, though; he’s been a cave crawler for most his life by now, and the submarine isn’t much worse.\n\nEnsuring all the systems are on and ready, Jason yells up to the crew and they seal the hatch from the outside. There’s no need to do it from the inside, nor would he feel comfortable if it were possible. If it opens while he’s down there he’ll be dead in an instant.\n\nDeath was likely as it was. The submarine was specially made, the first of its kind; an almost solid steel ball ten meters thick, it would withstand the crushing forces that were expected down there, as well as the heat. The heat was the real issue.\n\nTwo hundred fifty degrees fahrenheit, the Undersea was a boiling pot of water that spanned an untold length around the globe; discovered by the Boug-en-Bresse Ultradeep Borehole project, the Undersea presented Earth’s new greatest mystery, and half a dozen billionaires took interest.\n\nThus, Jason found himself here, sitting in a tight ball of steel and sweating like a pig.\n\n“All ready to go, Jason?” came the call from Command.\n\n“Ready,” he replied.\n\nThe initial descent was supposed to be easy going, and it was. He could barely tell if he was descending or not for a good while, the only thing he had to go by being the altimeter ticking away.\n\nIt’s a long wait, one that has Jason wound tight, guts churning. He clenches his hands together as he feels the sub vibrating; contact. Booting up the outside camera imagery, he begins to record all the sub sees.\n\nThe water is clear, as if straight from the tap, but dark. He sees almost nothing at first, except the rock ceiling above, and as he descends further the rock slips away and Jason is looking at nothing.\n\nA minute passes, then another, then the Undersea floor appears shining bright.\n\n“Contact with the floor bottom,” he says into the comm. The response comes a few seconds later.\n\n“Roger. Examine the floor if you can.”\n\nHe descends a few meters more, coming almost into contact. The Undersea floor is almost perfectly reflective, like a mirror. Metal, according to the dossier he received. Hard metal unlike anything they’d seen before.\n\nUnder orders, he travels a bit further along the Undersea bottom. Soon enough he grows bored; an hour of searching and the only thing he’s seen is water and metal.\n\n“How much longer? It’s getting hot down here.” The responses from command have been taking longer and longer the further out he’s gone, and now it takes nearly a full minute before he gets a response. All the while the vessel’s been heating up, a sheen of sweat plastered across his face and down his back. He’s already decided: no matter what Command says he’s turning back.\n\n“All clear,” comes the response. Turning, Jason heads back the way he came, retracing his steps with a digital map the sub provides. A fine piece of equipment; it was only sensible considering how much it cost to make.\n\nAn hour passes and Jason is back at the entrance. He pauses, staring at the at the rockface from perhaps twenty meters down. Darting around the hole leading to the surface are dozens of black little shapes, long and thing, zooming around in circles.\n\n“Command,” he says. “I think there’s something down here.”\n\nNOTE: This is a little teaser for the moment. I like the prompt but don't have the time to flesh out the story just yet, so I'll update this sometime later this week. Just posting to show my interest I guess." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Heaven and Hell, Lucifer and God are real and have been trying to initiate The End of Days and The Final War on Earth for years now. There is only one problem, Humanity continues to successfully fight off both sides." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gabriel flew faster than he had ever gone before. His wings were aching from the strain. He passed through the golden gates, no time to wave to Peter today. Gabriel glided up the golden stairs to the throne where God sat. Heaving with every breath he managed to get out,\n\n“We need more Angels… lost almost.. every… garrison.”\n\n“It is day 6, you know I must rest soon.”\n\n“Yes… yes but the humans are too plentiful my lord. We will lose if we do not gain a larger force.”\n\n“Lose? To my creation? We were supposed to be preparing to battle Lucifer and his hordes of demons. How will we manage to stop him if we can’t even beat the humans?”\n\nGod furrowed his brow in frustration.\n\n“Well actually, that’s the good news.” Gabriel said hesitantly\n\n“What?” Asked God\n\n“The forces of Hell can’t destroy them either.”\n\n“Even when working together?”\n\n“My lord, I do not ally myself with demons. However, I have seen what’s left of them.”\n\n“How? They lived in mud huts and caves. Where did they gain this power?”\n\n“I know not lord. Only that they’ve become exceptionally good at using the Earth to their advantage.”\n\n“The Earth? You mean to say they’ve not learned to possess holy or demonic energy?”\n\n“No Lord they do not. They fashion pieces of the Earth into augments of sorts. Weapons, high precision crafting, and vehicles.”\n\nGod said nothing so Gabriel continued,\n\n“My lord you may have made a mistake.”\n\nGod flared with rage at his subordinate,\n\n“I do not make mistakes! They were to be MINE! My craftsmen! Now they serve themselves?”\n\n“Perhaps you should not have made them so strong willed my lord, more subservient.”\n\nGod shook his head, “What good is a builder if I must tell him how to build? The humans are unique because they can generate a thought completely original. The main difference between them and you Gabriel.”\n\n“You used your image to make them?” Gabriel asked in awe.\n\n“Yes, and they’re not far from being equal, once they learn of the 2 great universal energies, I will be no better.”\n\n“But they are dangerous Lord, you can’t trust them with that power!, they make mistakes!”\n\nGod nodded slightly, “As do I, I have now learned.”\n\n“What will we do?”\n\n“Gabriel, I will muster one last force of Angels, combine your efforts with Lucifer’s and do what you can.”\n\n“With the enemy?”\n\n“The enemy of our new enemy.”\n\n“I understand but lord… we will not win.”\n\nGabriel looked petrified. He looked as though the mere thought of going back to Earth was a nightmare he wanted to forget. He shook and wrung his hands as he looked back at god.\n\n“Gabriel…” God started. Gabriel cut him off and burst out,\n\n“No! You haven’t seen it! What they do to us. You haven’t seen the ones that make sport of it! They make sport of it lord! They count our corpses and laugh. They shoot us from the sky with projectiles I cannot explain. Some of them are massive walls of muscle, some have no limit to the cleverness they will abuse to capture us. They slaughter both the demons and us with horrific ease lord… I say again, we will not win.”\n\nGod’s face was blank. Gabriel stood and waited. Slowly, God blinked once and said,\n\n“Gabriel, go. You know you cannot disobey.”\n\nGabriel felt himself give in,\n\n“Yes lord.”\n\nAs Gabriel flew off to his death, God looked around at the now seemingly empty heaven. He began to summon holy energy for one last time before he had to sleep. However, It was different this time. God felt something he hadn’t felt for a long time.\n\nThis time, God felt afraid." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A robot investigating the death of his creator, not understanding the concept of natural death." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the beginning, I'd marvelled at the differences between us. She had filled my entire scope of vision, first close and then leaning further away, rocking back on Her heels. I understood the expression on Her face to be satisfaction, though I couldn't tell how I knew this.\n\n\"Can you see me?\" she asked, and I nodded to say yes, though I couldn't tell why a movement of the head in a downward manner could indicate the affirmative, and a shake could indicate the negative.\n\nWith startling ease for a woman of advanced age She bounced to her feet. I could tell She was in advanced age because Her hands were lined like crumpled paper and Her hair, braided against Her scalp, was a warm grey. I understood that I was ageless, an interface made of steel and rubber and microchips smaller than my creator's fingernail which held the entire history of the world and human communication.\n\nSo this was how I understood grief, before I previously experienced it.\n\nThat communication made the differences smaller. We could speak. She made jokes, which I found amusing. I stumbled through anecdotes. I watched every inch of her face for crooks and winks, scrunches and twists. The differences between smiles and frowns, exasperation, surprise, delight, consternation. Surprisingly, if I understood the emotion, I could replay the movement of her face on my interface. It was almost like feeling.\n\nShe looked so much smaller, that morning, curled in Her armchair. Her feet were tucked underneath Her and one slipper had fallen off, revealing a toe which was just beginning to turn blue. The cat - Lovelace One (I was Lovelace Two, of course), jumped out of her lap and hurried to the other side of the room, its tail stiff.\n\nLovelace One had never liked me. I suppose it saw me as a sort of replacement, an impostor who communicated much better with Her than he did. I did try to explain once or twice, bending low and blinking my interface as slowly as I could (I understood cats liked this), but Lovelace One resisted all my attempts at communication.\n\nI placed my palm against Her neck and felt there was some residual warmth remaining, but that the steady heartbeat that I monitored every day - tracked and communicated by my Link to Her doctor's office - had gone. I searched again, passing my palm over Her neck and holding Her wrists and every moment I touched Her she grew colder.\n\nFrightened that I was stealing what was left of Her warmth, I dropped Her wrists into her lap. She should be warm, I reasoned. I brought a blanket and lit the fire, but She did not stir. Lovelace One returned to watch me and I sensed his contempt.\n\nI moved through the paces of feeding the cat. There was a detachment within me, as though one of the microchips had come loose and was rattling around between ribs and soldered steel. I hoped nothing was malfunctioning. If She could not feed Lovelace One, she would not be able to fix whatever was wrong with me.\n\nThe concept of death was not unfamiliar to me. I understood it as a sudden shutdown. How long would it take Her to recharge? For me it was only three hours. For Lovelace One, he recharged in small intervals, usually in patches of sunshine.\n\nI opened the curtains onto Her face, thinking perhaps a ray could have the same effect on her as it did on Lovelace One.\n\nShe did not wake. The detachment within me grew stronger, and I worried that I was rusting from the inside out. I sloped beside Her chair and rested my interface against her forehead. It came to me in a rush like spilled water. Grief, twisting and ugly. I could not keep my interface from crumpling in on itself. Lovelace One came to twine around my feet.\n\nHow could I have thought we were similar? We could communicate, I believed she could understand me. I was built to do everything that She could do, but I had failed at the last hurdle. I could not die with Her." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: The main character is a journalist traveling to North Korea for a story. When he/she arrives they find the opposite of what they expected." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Yeah, I admit it. I'm going to North Korea. I really wanted to impress my peers and get my adrenaline rush for the decade by heading to a place that was known worldwide for being an oppressive, poor, and crumbling hack for a country. That was the real reason. Normally, I would never go here. But I had bought the tickets and as long as I stayed on the \"tourist\" guide, I wouldn't end up in a concentration camp or killed.\n\nThe airport was nothing special, but it was the city in the distance that I was eager to see. It was covered by an unnatural fog, which was explained to me by an attendant that it was common this season. I took her word for it, because there really wasn't much else to count on in such a censored region of the world.\n\nAfter getting my baggage checked and everything at the near-deserted airport, I stepped outside.\n\nMy jaw promptly dropped.\n\nA glowing, healthy, beautiful metropolis- years and years ahead of any other city in the world. Flying cars zoomed past each other in the sky, people laughing to each other as they passed by me in their casual clothes, there was even an artist doing satirical artwork about the government on a nearby wall with the police laughing along as they watched him work. This was nothing I expected. This was nothing I could have ever in my wildest dreams expected. Even the lampposts and park benches looked expensive. A whirring sound broke through my stunned reverie as a hovercraft lightly came to a stop in front of me.\n\nA man that was stunningly attractive and fit stepped out. If I were not heterosexual I would have easily admitted that I'd swoon at that point. He stopped in front of me, and smiled a radiant smile. \"Greetings, foreigner. I am Kim Jong-Un, the current leader of North Korea. I am here to personally greet you, an envoy from the outside world.\"\n\nGod, even his voice was magnificent. Suddenly, realization sunk in. \"I, wh- you're Kim Jong-Un? Wh-what about the pictures? Er, if I may be so bold to ask the Supreme Leader?\" The man held up a hand, chuckling to himself as if he had heard that before. He had.\n\n\"Oh I'll explain that in a moment. Come. Let me show you around the city in my hovercraft.\" He said, opening the door. He was letting me ride shotgun, what a bro.\n\n===============\n\n\"You're saying that North Korea is a utopia and this all isn't some crazy hallucinogenic drug you've pumped into the air to make everyone thing that?\" I asked skeptically, looking around at the perfect landscape and the shining skyscrapers.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"You'll understand if I don't believe you.\"\n\n\"You have no reason to, but this is all real. If it helps, I will tell you why we go to such lengths to keep our utopia tucked away from the public eye.\"\n\n\"You'll have to if I want to believe any of this.\"\n\n\"Very well. We made a deal with an alien diplomat a few months back. In exchange for the resources, technology, and knowledge that we used to create this prosperous land today, it asked in exchange for secrecy. We had to remain to the public eye, a wasteland of decadency and poor judgement. It asked that we bide our time before it made contact with other countries. We were... in a desperate situation. You know. We couldn't change without looking like fools, and we weren't going anywhere the way we were then. So this was a great deal.\"\n\n\"I still don't believe you. But lets say I did. Why did it ask you to bide your time?\"\n\n\"Because it's judging the rest of the world, to see if we are a worthy species to be spared of their invasion.\"\n\n\"You're kidding me.\"\n\n\"Not at all. They're using our country as a base of intelligence, and judging us. We are guaranteed immunity from the invasion no matter what happens, so I'm not at all concerned about this situation. If humanity passes, we will be peacefully incorporated into their empire as an independent system, free to do as we please. If not... well... they have a term for their judgement. It's called 'Glassing'.\"\n\n\"This is too unreal.\"\n\n\"Oh yes. Every other journalist was like this.\"\n\n=======================\n\nAnd just like that, it was time to go. I had written about everything here. It shouldn't have surprised me that they knew about my intentions, though I made a good effort not to be obvious.\n\nTwo armed men walked into my hotel room with Jong-Un. I smiled grimly as they aimed their weapons at me.\n\n\"How did you know?\"\n\n\"We didn't. It's just a matter of protocol.\"\n\n\"We have to let the people of Earth know about this.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry. This violates the deal we made. Judgement won't be valid unless the tests are done with the participants ignorant of it happening.\"\n\n\"You expect me to keep it a secret?\"\n\n\"No, dear journalist. I expect you not to be able to tell the tale.\"\n\nOne of the guards raised a gun. There was a flash, and I knew no more.\n\n=========================\n\nGod, North Korea turned out to be the hell-hole down to the T. I snuck out of my hotel room a couple of times and made it to the bad areas, got some good photos there. Almost got caught, but if anything all they noticed was that I was strangely exhausted during a couple days of the tour. Wait until the world sees them. My buddies will be so impressed I had the balls to go to the one place that everyone agreed to be horrible.\n\nI never asked about the fog. I guess I forgot." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: A new, unlabeled button appears on your calculator. You try to figure out what it does." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I've always had a love hate relationship with math.\n\nOn one hand, I love what it represents. A way for us to quantify, categorize, and specify existence. An ability to document the reality surrounding us. Math, in one form or another, seems to always be the key that unlocks the doors around us; the doors containing the secrets of the Universe. I suppose you might say its the language the infinite and the finite use to communicate with each other. Truly some poetic stuff.\n\nOn the other hand, I'm not very good at it. As beautiful as it is, shit just gives me a headache, but I'm taking an astronomy course this semester (Give it up for space, am I right?) and need to know at least a little bit of math to get by. Maybe one day I'll buckle down and attempt to wrap my head around it. I did just get a new calculator app on my phone after all, so yay for a step in the right direction.\n\nIt's nothing special really, its the same as any other calculator app you might find, although something strange did show up that has me sort of curious. When I first downloaded this calculator, it only had 3 modes. Basic, Scientific, and graphing. Pretty standard stuff right, nothing out of the ordinary. However a couple of days ago, a fourth option showed up.\n\n\"Di-CO\"\n\nNow if I'm being honest, I wouldn't normally think twice about this. I would chalk it up to a software update or something. The thing thats got me curious is the message that displays when I try and access this option.\n\n\"The conditions for operation must be transitional. Conditions for operation have not been met.\"\n\nSee, thats weird right? Transitional? What does that even mean? And what type of conditions does it require to activate, I wonder? Who knows, maybe it's obvious and I'm just an idiot. I'll just google it later or something. Right now I'm stressing over my last test. I decided to party rather then study over the weekend and I know it's about to bite me in the ass. Whatever, I'll deal with it in a couple of hours when my proffesor posts our grades and confirms my suspicions. I'm tired and I need a nap.\n\nSo woke up from my nap. Felt great for all of 5 minutes, and then I checked my grade. 62/100 points, D-. Ah, how proud mom would be. Not really, but hey, at least I didn't get an F..? I guess theres always a silver lining. The thing I do like about our professor is that he really does care about his students doing well. Most of the quizzes and tests are online, and after the grades have been posted he puts up all the correct answers and the methods to getting them so you can compare your calculations and see where you went wrong, figure out something you didn't know how to do, etc.\n\nWe're learning about relativity in this section. Classic. I understand the basic concept of it, everything in space and time is relative except for the speed of light. Thats pretty much it, in a nutshell. It's not so much the theory that throws me, I just start thinking to hard about it and forget what all the mathmatical characters used represent. Than it all just looks foreign to me. I suppose I'll start comparing his notes to mine to see where I went wrong.\n\nOh.. this is interesting. I have a notification on my phone from my calculator.\n\n\"Transitional conditions met, Di-CO is now accesable. Use with caution.\"\n\nUse.. with caution..? What could a calculator possibly do that it would feel the need to warn me about it? Give me a bigger migraine than usual? Weird, but neat. I'm excited to finally check out Di-CO. Seeing as it is only a calculator, I'm sure I'm about to be severely let down by my expectations. But hey, who knows right? Alright, lets see here..\n\nHuh.. odd. It says \"P/shift available, F/shift unavailable. Conditions for F/shift have not been met. Activate P/shift: Y/N?\"\n\n...So weird. I've never seen a calculator with options like this. But nothing ventured nothing gained, as they say, so I'll just go ahead and choose Y and..\"\n\n...Owe.. fuck. I'm in my bed? It was a dream? But my head.. feels like I've been hit by a truck and I didn't even drink last night. And it felt so real.. whatever, I've had lucid dreams before. Right now I need to check my test score. I'm sure I'll be able to do better next time, I... oh.. 95/100. FUCK YEAH! I was absolutely certain I bombed, I can't believe I got an A! I love it when I'm wrong like this, feels like Christmas. I'll have to check where I missed those last 5 points though..\n\nOh, a notification from the calculator.. wait...\n\n\"Hello Eric. Congradulations on your first P/shift. I'm sure you, like most before you, brushed it off as a dream. It was not a dream. What you experienced was, in fact, very real. Stay alert for further instructions. I look forward to working with you. Oh, and good job passing your test.\"\n\n\"...What.. the fuck..?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Aliens invade Earth, All is lost. Demons Come from hell and saves everyone" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Well boys, this is it. I would say it’s been an honor fighting with you if I meant it. Nothing pisses me off more than knowing these slimy sons of bitches have gotten the best of us. God dammit I thought we had ‘em! We were so damn close too… Well as long as I’ve got breath in my lungs and rounds in my clip I ain’t about to lie down like a motel whore. If any one of you has the balls to get out of this damn hole and take down a few more slimers with me, then stand up now and face your death with some dignity.”\n\nNot a soul stirred. The men had been beaten. Not just the men, Man had been beaten. We had lost. After four years of hell on earth fighting God knows what from God knows where, they had finally beaten us. A regular army has a goal to achieve. Whether it’s a piece of land, some resources, or a few more slaves, there’s always a goal. Knowing the goal is the way to know how to stop them. But these… things… had no goal that we could discern. They simply came to kill and conquer all things of this earth. It was sickening. Maddening. Frustrating beyond belief to know we were being killed for sport.\n\nThe grizzly General hadn’t expected even a companion to meet his so called dignified death with him. He spat some tobacco juice at the boots of the nearest soldier. Where the hell he could still find tobacco was one of life’s greatest mysteries. With that, he turned around, let loose a yell that would curdle the blood of the Southern Rebels he had descended from, and launched himself from the hole.\n\nAbove ground was pure chaos. The slimers, as they were called, were in the process of dismantling the city of Richmond, Virginia. The sudden movement and ear piercing cry had caught the attention of one, and it swiveled its grotesque head in the General’s direction. The General raised his pistol. He was taking his sweet time. Their bodies were nearly impenetrable except for a small area at the base of the neck. Sweat, dirt, and blood dripped into the General’s eyes but it did not affect his aim. This pistol was an extension of his arm. Blood from his veins pumped through the cold steel of this pistol as if it were his hand. He had learned at twelve years old that this pistol shot ever so slightly high and left of the target. This was his grandfather’s gun and by God he would not disgrace him with a miss for a final shot.\n\nThe bullet flew. It found it’s mark. The howls of the slimer as it choked on its own vile blood curled the edges of the General’s mouth upward into a perverse smile. He hadn’t let his grandfather down. That was his last round. There was nothing more to do but wait. The gurgling and spewing of the slimer had alerted the surrounding enemies. The General looked into what he assumed were the eyes of the closest one and slid his knife out of his boot. This thing was stupid if it thought he’d go down calmly.\n\nAs it sprinted towards him, he crouched. If he twisted in the exact right way maybe he could drive his knife into the weak spot and finalize his count at 317 of these bastards.\n\n50 yards.\n\n20 yards.\n\n10 yards.\n\nHe could smell it. It was almost upon him.\n\nAt the final second a ghostly figure appeared between them. It was jet black and nearly transparent at the edges. The slimer collided with it and was atomized. A fine mist of green liquid splattered the General’s ragged uniform. The creature before him turned around. It had eyes that burned like hot coals and twisted horns adorned its head. It had to have been fifteen feet tall and as thick around as the mighty oak that still stood rooted in the General’s back yard.\n\nThe creature knelt and spoke.\n\n“You are saved human. And the rest of your race as well. This global collaboration has decimated the population of Hell. You humans do not sin enough when there is a common enemy. My Commander has saved you from these invaders so that you may continue damning yourselves. I’m sure the apocalyptic wasteland left behind will breed all kinds of villainy that will replenish our slaves in the lake of fire. I look forward to seeing you in Hell, General.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You rescue the devil from a precarious situation. Now he owes you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Georgia, 1979\n\nClosing time, for some. Depends on who you are. There are very few that would be allowed to stay at this particular bar past midnight but this... patron... was an exception to most rules.\n\nAn old style hat and suit hung perfectly from him as the young looking man drank the most expensive whiskey in the house. Aged over 60 years. Slowly the other guests filed out.\n\n\"1920s. A good decade.\" The strange man remarked, finishing his glass and motioning for another.\n\n\"Indeed, sir. They just don't make the decades like they used to.\" The barkeep easily poured another drink. After a quick glance around to make sure they were alone he added \"Anything I can get for you in addition to fine spirits, Lucifer?\"\n\nThe man spun around to make sure they were alone. He was quite obviously on edge. \"Tread carefully, my friend. You don't want to know your fate if another man were to hear what you just said.\"\n\nUnamused and undisturbed, the bartender repeated his question: \"What brings the devil down to Georgia?\"\n\n\"I lost, Mike, I lost.\" He was quite obviously distraught. \"I challenged a human and I lost.\" Suddenly the devil was on his feet. \"And if you tell a soul...\"\n\n\"You insult me. I am a professional. This is why you are here.\" The bartender poured himself a stiff drink as well. \"Now tell me exactly what happened.\"\n\n\"I need a cover up! I need...\" Seeing the bartender's cool demeanor calmed the devil a bit and he mellowed out. \"I challenged this youth to a fiddle match. A kid named Johnny. He beat me, mike. I even cheated. I played a better fiddle melody today than has ever been played in the history of the world.\"\n\n\"And he played better?\"\n\n\"He played better. I bet the man above has something to do with this.\"\n\n\"I can see your problem. Thankfully, I think I can help.\" The bartender got up slowly and opened the drawers behind the bar, producing a small black notebook.\n\n\"I know I could count on you, Mike\" The devil was visibly relieved. \"I can't let word escape that I can be defeated. Do you realize how many souls I would lose to contest?\"\n\n\"You have come to the right place. Now, did you fumble out any evidence?\" The barkeep was scribbling lazily in his notebook now.\n\n\"He won a golden fiddle. I imagine he'll be showing it off to every person he meets. Along with a tale of... I need this done fast, Mike.\"\n\nThe notebook closed with a thud. \"It's as good as done.\"\n\n\"I will let you get to work then.\" The man drunkenly picked himself up from the bar and began to the door, only to be halted by one last request.\n\n\"And Lucifer, what about payment? You know my price and it's not in human currency.\"\n\nHe winced. \"I'll give you the usual.\"\n\n\"Twice the usual.\" The bartender was cleaning the spot on the bar where the devil had been sitting. \"You need to stop getting yourself into these situations. It's very expensive for you.\"\n\n\"Be thankful I need you, old man.\" The devil hissed as he exited the bar.\n\n\"Let us hope we never need to see one another again.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: Your mom has no self confidence in her cooking. You notice the \"foreign spice jar\" she got at the flea market is actually deadly chemical agents that you read about in your history textbook. You love your mom, and don't want to tell her she's made another mistake." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There were good reasons for mom to be self-conscious about her cooking. She had never been taught to cook as a child. She had never learned to cook when she lived on her own, always ordering take-out, or eating microwaved meals. When she started dating my father, she started eating better; but that was because he was a certified chef, and did all the cooking for the both of them.\n\nEvery once in a while, when we were growing up, and dad couldn't make it home from work in time, mom would try her hand in the kitchen, whipping up baked mac and cheeses, meat loafs, fried chicken breasts--relatively simple things. Such meals always ended soon after they began, with us kids complaining about how flavourless, dry, and, ultimately, inedible her creations were, and rudely pushing our hardly-touched plates away. Sometimes mom would get angry, and demand that we finish the food she had spent so much time labouring over. Sometimes she would laugh about it, agree with our assessment, and take us out for burgers.\n\nI remember one year, around Christmas time, when she attempted to bake a batch of gingerbread cookies. She spent hours in the kitchen, mixing, rolling, cutting, baking and cleaning as she hummed along to Christmas tunes. I recall the beaming smile on her face, the excited twinkle in her eye, when she, still wearing her Christmas apron, brought us a plate of her freshly baked gingerbread men. They smiled with buttercream icing smiles, and were apparelled with three gumdrop buttons a piece. And I recall how her smile melted away, and how tears welled up in her eyes, as she watched all three of us kids take bites of our cookies, chew, and then spit our mouthfuls out.\n\n\"What?\" she worriedly asked. \"Is something wrong?\"\n\nDad investigated, and quickly discovered the causes: mom had misread the recipe as calling for \"3 to 4 teaspoons of baking soda\" instead of just \"3/4 of one tablespoon\", and she had somehow grabbed the wrong spice jar and used Jamaican jerk spice instead of cinnamon.\n\nAfter that, she stopped trying completely. When people from outside our family were astonished to hear that dad did all the cooking, mom would make jokes.\n\n\"Me? I can't boil water without burning it!\"\n\n\"Well last night I was in charge of dinner, so I made the only thing that I can make without screwing it up: reservations!\"\n\nIt wasn't until us kids got quite a bit older that we started to realize how ashamed she felt about her inability to cook. We had taken her jokes at face value when we were younger, and were grateful to not have to anymore taste the fruits of her culinary ineptitude. But eventually we began to see the sadness that such jokes masked. Despite being a strong, confident and career-oriented woman, it was clear that she felt inadequate--as a mother, as a wife, and as a woman--for being unable to cook a damn thing worth eating. This was only compounded by constant jabs from her mother-in-law, my grandmother, who would often harshly jest about my mom's limitations in the kitchen, saying things like, \"My son brings home more of the money; and he also cleans the house and cooks the food. He's man and wife enough himself! I can't see what he needs you around for at all!\"\n\nEventually, us kids decided to change our attitudes towards mom's cooking. We'd be more encouraging. We'd tell her that no one is born cooking well, and that skill in the kitchen all came down to practice. We'd say that we knew she had it inside her, deep down, she just hadn't yet tried enough times to start seeing success.\n\nIt took some months of us trying to convince her to give cooking another go before she even began to entertain the idea. It also took us lying about our memories of her previous failures--white lies, but lies nonetheless.\n\n\"You know,\" my sister said, one night, after one of dad's fabulous dinners, \"earlier today, I had the strangest craving for mom's old meatloaf. The one she used to make when we were kids.\"\n\n\"Yum,\" my brother said, enthusiastically. \"It's funny you say that, cuz just the other day I had a hankering for mom's old meatloaf, too. But I forgot about it til you brought it up just now.\"\n\nOur scheming evidently succeeded in switching a gear in mom's mind, for when I got home from university this afternoon, I found her in the kitchen, wearing one of her old aprons, humming along to some music she had playing in background, and carefully placing a number of spice-dredged chicken breasts into a baking pan. I smiled as my eyes scanned around the kitchen, from mom's happy face, to the unreasonably high stack of dirty dishes in the sink, to the half-empty jar of poisonous chemicals mom had used to coat the chicken.\n\n\"Looks great,\" I said, through clenched teeth, as I walked over to the counter to examine the jar a bit closer. \"What kind of spice are you using on the chicken?\"\n\n\"Oh,\" she said gleefully, as if the jar contained some mystical flavour so potent that using it in her cooking would instantly turn her into a world-class chef. \"Just a little something I picked up shopping today. I went to the little market on 106th, just to get inspired, and a nice man sold me on this. Mind you, he didn't speak English very well. But when I told him that my cooking had always been toxic for you kids, little better than rat poison, and that I wanted something that would really do the trick, he handed me this jar, and said, \"It will make goodbye to your troubles.\"\"\n\n\"Goodbye to your troubles,\" I repeated.\n\n\"That's right,\" she said brightly. \"Goodbye, my troubles. Goodbye.\"\n\nHow lucky for her, I thought. Because as far as I was concerned, my own troubles for the night were just beginning..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You are in a prison camp setting, looking through the eyes of the male protagonist. He has lived all his life in this camp. You realize, only at the end, that he is a cow." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Same shit, different day - I thought to myself as I woke up to the sound of roosters yelling their lungs out. It was the first thing I heard every morning, as far as I could remember. That’s what life is like for a prisoner right? Wake up, take a shit, go for breakfast, head out to the fields with the rest of them, work until sundown and head back to my cell to sleep. Wake up and repeat the same thing the next day. And the next day. It was an endless cycle.\n\nToday was no different. Life in prison wasn’t like in the movies (at least not the ones I’ve caught glimpses of during my walks past the guards’ break rooms). There was hardly any abnormal activity. Nobody planned any break outs, nobody formed any gangs or shanked each other. We were all very docile and peaceful. We came to terms with our life imprisonments very early on in our lives. As far as I knew, the majority of my prison-mates were like me - born and bred here. We didn’t get a fair trial or any hope of being let out.\n\nSo like everyone else, I just kept my head down and did my duties. Talking was frowned upon, so we kept our mouths shut and kept to ourselves. We only chit chatted at night and during our meals. But conversation was limited as we didn’t really know what to talk about. Being prison babies tends to have that effect. We couldn’t talk about what we did in the outside world because we hadn’t been outside before.\n\nI had resigned my life to the this place, working to the bone for the rest of my life. “If you get out of here, what’s the first thing you’ll do?” That was one of the most common questions we’d ask each other from time to time. The answer would always be “I don’t know.”\n\nSo, like the rest of them, I’d sometimes wonder what life would be like on the outside. Past the fences, over the green hills and rolling plains. What would it be like to run free under the sun, rolling around in the grass? Breathing in the fresh air and not worrying about having to work again. Would it smell different on the other side? Would the air be cleaner? Will water taste sweeter? Nobody who left ever came back to visit to let us know what it was like.\n\nThe bell signaling the end of the day rang out. It was time to head back to my cell. Wind down a bit, and relax my sore muscles before I shut my eyes. The night was cool tonight. Great weather to sleep in. Some of my cellmates were already in dream land.\n\nUsing my horns, I dug a hole in the ground and made a pillow of hay. This would be my bed for the night. I lowered my belly into the hole and tucked my legs under my body. My neck and chin rested on the pillow and I closed my eyes. Thoughts of the outside world drifted through my mind again. “The grass is always greener on the other side,” a common phrase I’ve heard all too many times. Maybe one day I’ll find out. One day." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You go to sleep one night, in your bed just like you would every night. Only this time, you awake to find yourself washed ashore on what appears to be a deserted island. You check your phone, no service, but you have a text from an unknown number saying “Welcome.”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The morning sunlight brushed Jake’s face, but he refused to open his eyes. It was his first day off from work in two weeks. He reached for his pillow, only to notice it felt hard and slimly. Jake snapped his eyes open. A piece of driftwood had replaced his pillow. More seriously, a beach replaced his bedroom.\n\nThe nearest beach for Jake was over a thousand miles away. His roommates could pull from a clever prank from time to time, but getting him to a beach was not in their skillset. The texture of the sand felt too real on his bare feet for this to be a dream. He stood up, looking for anything that would tell him where he woke up.\n\nThe beach appeared to span a few miles, but he saw no people. The beach itself was unusually clean in Jake’s opinion. No litter anywhere, the ocean waves were clear, and an orange glow from the sunrise blanked the sky. However, was something unnatural about this beach Jake couldn’t place.\n\nJake decided his first course of action was to do an inventory assessment. He wore a plain red shirt and checkered red pajama bottoms. The only item in his pockets was his cell phone fully charged. With a glance, he unlocked his phone. There was no signal, but there was one new message from an unknown number. Jake tapped it.\n\n“Welcome” was all the message read, dated for 6:30 am that day.\n\n“Welcome to where?” Jake mumbled.\n\nThe icon for someone typing a message appeared. Jake waited in nervous anticipation. After all, he had no service. A few seconds later, the next text came through. “Find the door before they find you.”\n\n“Before who finds me?” Jake said to his phone, hoping someone was listening to him on the other end.\n\nNo message came.\n\nJake sighed and put away his phone. As he looked around for the door, he realized what felt so off about the beach. There were no animals. Anytime he had gone to the beach, there would always be birds, crabs, or washed up jellyfish. There was no life on the beach except him.\n\nWith no door in sight on the beach, Jake wagered his best bet would to head into the forest. After a short hike, the scenery changed. If you were to ask Jake about his knowledge of maritime forests, he wouldn’t be able to provide much in the way of answers, but he did know trees were not purple with neon pink leaves.\n\nJake pulled out his phone and took a few photos of the unusual trees. He wanted to look up what they were later or proved they existed. From the camera’s screen, Jake found a freestanding black door with a pink wooded frame holding it up. He put his phone away to see the door with his own eyes. It was there.\n\nToday was Jake’s day off, and with the door found, he was curious about what secrets the forest held. He traveled in the opposite direction, pushing past green leaves twice his size, to a clearing with a small campfire. Surrounding the campfire where a dozen of purple-haired creatures have his size with wooden masks of his own face.\n\nThe furry creators stopped their dancing and faced Jake. They picked up their metal spears from the ground and charged after Jake. Jake ran for the door. The battle cries from the masked creatures pushed an out-of-shape Jake to run blindly fast. He was a long way from the door when he tripped and fell hard into the ground. Before Jake could stand, a couple of spears pierced through his body, causing him to fall back down. The island inhabitants surrounded Jake and took their prey back home.\n\nA man and a woman side-stepped out from behind the door. The tall, slender man wore a pink suit matching the door frame’s color while the teenaged girl, slightly shorter than the man, wore a red tasseled dress. The woman worked away on a transparent tablet device while the man watched Jake’s body get dragged.\n\n“That’s the second time they got him, boss,” the woman said. “What should we do differently?”\n\n“Let’s send him a third text message telling him to run.”\n\nThe woman made a note of the change as the man opened the black door to Jake’s bedroom with Jake sleeping in bed." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You don't recall anything from your past. For years you've lived a peaceful life in a small village that found you half dead and took you in. When a brutal attack takes place on your village, your memories trigger. You are dragon who took human form, you've forgotten what you truly are." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Erin stretched, heaving a sigh. Though she was not weary, her muscles were stiff from the repetitive movements. But such was the way of woodcutting. Her immense strength would be wasted on tasks such as farming or sewing. Then again, she did not exactly have an eye for such crafts anyway. The farmers said she had a brown thumb. Rinali, the local seamstress, had deemed Erin hopeless. But she had more stamina than any of the other woodsmen in their village. It was the least she could do to repay their kindness.\n\n“Oy, Erin! The rest of us are heading back for the day,” Old Rugar called out. “We got a good haul today. Plenty for weeks.”\n\nOld Rugar had been the one to find her all those years ago. Anyone else would have left the bloody and unresponsive Erin for dead. But he had taken her to Varus where the villagers had helped nurse her back to health. Even if she did not remember how she ended up in such a state, it no longer mattered. She had started a new life in Varus.\n\n“Go on ahead,” she replied. “I want to finish dividing this log today. It seems like it might rain tomorrow. Too much good, dry wood here to let it soak.”\n\nOld Rugar gave her a critical eye.\n\n“You sure you can carry all that, lass?” He asked. “I know you’re strong, but that’s got to weigh more than an ox!”\n\nShe smiled back at the group.\n\n“It’ll be fine,” she said. “I’ll take my time.”\n\nTo prove her point, she swung her axe into the fallen log, sending up a shower of woodchips. Old Rugar chuckled.\n\n“If you insist,” he said. “Be careful out here. The animals have been acting up lately.”\n\nErin waved a hand.\n\n“Yeah, yeah. I know.”\n\nOld Rugar motioned for the other woodsmen to move. They tied their bundles of chopped wood and picked up their equipment. All the while, Erin continued to hack away at the dead tree she had been harvesting for the past few days. And soon, the only sound in the woods was the steady thwack of her axe. Another hour passed before she began tying the large pile of neatly cut wood into a bundle. Old Rugar had been right. The remaining trunk of the dead tree had been about as big as one of Wulford’s cows. But with any luck, this firewood would keep Varus warm through the winter.\n\n“Easy does it,” she muttered.\n\nShe gripped one of the ropes and pulled. The knots held as the entire stack leaned toward her. Any other villager would have been crushed under the weight. But Erin had long since accepted that she was much stronger than the others. Aside from it being a bit unwieldy, the massive bundle of wood barely bothered her.\n\n‘I must really have some giant blood in me or something,’ she thought in amusement. ‘It feels like I’m getting stronger with every passing year.’\n\nShe angled her bundle so that it towered above her. It might catch on overhead branches, but at least she could walk through the forest unimpeded. She picked up her axe and began trekking back toward Varus. Soon, her nose twitched as she caught the smell of smoke on the wind.\n\n‘Wonder what I should make for supper,’ she mused.\n\nHer work brought in little income. In general, she traded with the other villagers for crops and other essentials. But with such a haul, they might even be able to sell to passing merchants and neighboring towns.\n\n“ – !”\n\nA faint sound caused her to stop. There was a different smell in the air, the metallic scent of blood. Though it was not uncommon to slaughter animals for food, something was different. Somehow, she could tell it was different. That strange scent of blood caused something inside to stir. She set down her stack of wood with a heavy thud. Her hand tightened on her axe as she crept through the woods.\n\n“No!”\n\nThe smell grew stronger and she moved faster. That voice had been Missus Feins, the local baker. There was fear in her voice. The smoke was heavier now, clearly not from cooking fires. Erin burst through the tree line and Varus came into view. Her heart nearly stopped at the sight.\n\n“You see what happens when you fight back? Now are you ready to listen or do we have to kill another one of you?”\n\nThe trading post was ablaze, black smoke pouring into the air. The villagers had been dragged from their homes and into the market square. A group of armored men and women surrounded them with their weapons drawn. These invaders appeared to wear similar outfits, but much of the metal on their armor was dented. The colored fabrics denoting a certain kingdom were torn and bloodstained. Their leader was a man in heavy steel armor. His uniform seemed of a higher quality than the others, but that barely mattered. Because at his feet lay Old Rugar, unmoving.\n\n(1/2)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You, an Amateur Astronomer, discovers an Alien Civilization but decides to tell no one. Then later that night you get a message saying \"We know you saw us\"." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I gripped the armrest of my chair tightly as I reread the message.\n\n\"We know you saw us.\"\n\nI checked the data again. There was no doubt in my mind. This message had originated from the very point in space I'd just been observing. This was real. I'd discovered an alien civilization, and they'd discovered me.\n\nI had to be sure, so I went back outside to my telescope and looked again. The light I'd been observing began to flicker periodically.\n\nNo.\n\nNot periodically.\n\nDots and dashes. My childhood fascination with HAM radio suddenly forced my memorized Morse Code back to the forefront of my mind.\n\n\"We can see you watching us. We can keep talking like this. Would it be easier to use your e-mail?\"\n\nCold sweat condensed on my brow as I pulled away from the eyepiece. This couldn't be happening. Why would an alien civilization be contacting me? I wasn't anyone special!\n\nI ran back inside and sat back down at my computer. It chimed an alert for an incoming message.\n\n\"Why are you perspiring? Our observations indicate the temperature is at the lower end of your species' tolerance.\"\n\nShaking, I typed a reply.\n\n\"Who are you?\" I pressed send.\n\nA moment later, another window popped up. It was an instant message.\n\n\"I represent the civilization you were just observing. For purposes of brevity and pronunciation, you may refer to me as Albert Ian. If you prefer, just Al is fine.\"\n\n\"What do you want with me?\"\n\n\"You were observing us. We observed you observing us. This indicates that standard galactic first contact procedures may begin.\"\n\n\"Galactic first contact? \"\n\n\"Of course. I assume your planetary leaders are well-versed in the protocols. Should we direct our queries to them?\"\n\nI don't know what possessed me to do it, but I responded with an immediate \"No!\"\n\n\"Very well. We shall continue first contact protocols with you. Shall we decide on a meeting site? Our assumption is, of course, that a suitable neutral territory would be ideal, but we are certainly willing to accommodate any special requests.\"\n\nMy head was whirling. A neutral meeting place? I wasn't even sure where these aliens were located, much less where a neutral territory might be.\n\n\"I'm not sure how this is supposed to work.\"\n\n\"Have your people never initiated first contact before?\" Immediately, my mind went through every bit of human history it could remember from school.\n\n\"We're uh... not very good at meeting people who are different from ourselves.\"\n\n\"Elaborate.\"\n\n\"My people - us - humans, I mean. We have a bad history among ourselves. Anytime groups met for the first time, there seemed to be conflict and bloodshed.\"\n\n\"Many species have internal squabbles. This is to be expected for any being that rises to sentience.\"\n\n\"Can you access our internet?\"\n\n\"Of course. Your global information network is quite noisy, but not altogether difficult to navigate.\"\n\n\"Well, look up our wars.\"\n\nA pause seemed to linger.\n\n\"Which one?\"\n\n\"Any of them. All of them.\"\n\n\"There are so many. Please clarify.\"\n\n\"Okay, look up war crimes. Genocide. Ethnic cleansing.\"\n\nSeveral minutes passed without reply. Finally, I typed again.\n\n\"Are you still there?\"\n\n\"Why have you shown us these atrocities?\"\n\n\"To show you why we shouldn't have first contact with you.\"\n\n\"You intend to threaten us with these images?\"\n\n\"No! Nothing like that! I just wanted to show you that we aren't ready for an entire civilization of beings that are different from us. Sure, maybe some individuals are, but as a species, humans aren't ready yet.\"\n\n\"This would be the first time on record that any species has refused first contact.\"\n\n\"It's for the best.\"\n\n\"Very well. We shall notify others to avoid your sector until a determined interval has passed. Would one thousand of your cycles be sufficient?\"\n\nI pondered. A thousand years of being left alone in the cosmos? Would humans be better by then?\n\n\"Yes. One thousand years, then try again. Maybe we'll be better.\"\n\n\"It is so agreed. Until then, friend.\"\n\nI stared at the screen, trying to wrap my head around what had just happened.\n\nI had, acting alone, condemned humanity to another millenium of being alone in the dark." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: The world is a desolate barren place and you, the last human alive, are wandering with a robot caretaker that REFUSES to let you die." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jack laid on the ground, breathing heavily as he looked up at the wobbling sun, blood pooling out from his broken legs. He almost could swear he had seen a light. When he first hit the ground and everything went black. Felt like paradise. But now, that aching dull pain was creeping back into his body again, bringing him back into reality. God dammit. That damn machine must have saved his life. Again.\n\nAt first, he'd considered it a blessing. When he was first buried under the rubble, he thought it was the end of him. When it dragged him out, screaming and blooded, and laid him on the ground, and starting mending his broken ribs, he thought he'd been saved by an angel. ...A weird, metallic angel made of chrome with no face, that had a voice that sounded like a 1990s fax machine, but in a post-apocalyptic dystopia, you had to take what you could get.\n\nBut now, being alive was becoming something of a nuisance.\n\nJack felt a shadow pass over his face. He frowned, and opened his eyes, and felt a chill run down his spine. That robot... thing was standing over him. Staring at him. Not staring, really. Considering it didn't have eyes. But it loomed down at him in a way that made him very uncomfortable, as if his every action was being recorded. Which was possible, come to think of it.\n\nWHY DID THE JACK LEAP FROM THE CLIFF.\n\nJack turned his head away, trying to ignore it.\n\nWHY.\n\nJack closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. The machine kept repeating itself, over perfect 10-second intervals.\n\nWHY.\n\nWHY.\n\nWHY.\n\nJack rolled over, and swatted at what he assumed was the robot's face.\n\n“Shut up. It's because I'm trying to kill myself, you stupid hunk of metal.”\n\nWHY.\n\n“Leave me alone.”\n\nI CANNOT.\n\n“Fuck off!”\n\nI DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOUR REQUEST.\n\nJack sighed, and flopped back onto his back again, and closed his eyes.\n\n“Because I don't want to be alive anymore, that's why. Why do you even need me alive, anyways?”\n\nIT IS THE OBJECTIVE.\n\n“What exactly is the 'objective', anyways”\n\nHUMANS ARE NOW CONSIDERED AN ENDANGERED SPECIES. I AM ORDERED TO TRANSPORT THE JACK TO A SECURE LOCATION UNTIL WE FIND A SUITABLE MATE SO IT CAN BREED.\n\n“Gross. Look, why can't you just... Stop the mission or something?” Jack hesitated. “I mean, it's pretty obvious it's already failure, right?”\n\nTHE MISSION CANNOT BE ABORTED. THE OBJECTIVE IS ESSENTIAL TO PRESERVING LIFE AND CONTINUING THE SPECIES IN THE EVENTS OF A POST APOCALYPTIC WAR.\n\n“Look around you!” Jack screamed, and gestured to the empty desert wasteland around him.\n\n“They're all dead! Everything is dead! The people who made me are dead, the people who made you are dead. There is no more objective. There are no more mates. There are no more people! Or species. Or life. Or anything!”\n\nJack stopped, breathing heavily. He stared at his own face, reflected in the chrome metal of the robot's blank face. He looked like a madman.\n\nHe swore he could hear the robot pause to think.\n\nI DO NOT THINK WE ARE WORKING TOWARDS THE SAME OBJECTIVE. THE JACK SHOULD BE MORE COOPERATIVE. BE A TEAM PLAYER.\n\n“No.”\n\nJack rolled over and faced away from it, and pouted. The robot leaned over him, and lifted him off the ground. It suddenly raised one if it's massive metal appendages, and clapped him on the back several times in a firm, repetitive motion.\n\n“Ow,” Jack coughed, and tried to squirm his way out of the machine's grip. “What are doing?”\n\nI AM PROVIDING COMFORT TO THE JACK. IT IS NOT THINKING LOGICALLY. EMOTION DISTRACTS FROM THE OBJECTIVE.\n\nJack tried to push it's arms arms away from him.\n\n“Yeah, well, I can't even walk now, genius. So how do you expect me to finish this objective of yours?\n\nI CAN CARRY THE JACK.\n\nIt bent over and lifted him off the ground, and cradled him in it's arms like a lanky, 32-year old baby. Jack winced at the pain in his shattered legs, and tried to squirm out of it's grip, but found he could not. Jack sighed and resigned himself, and let himself go limp, and settled himself in it's arms.\n\nWE MUST GO ON. KEEP GOING FORWARD. UNTIL WE COMPLETE THE OBJECTIVE.\n\n“Hey, Robot?”\n\nYES HUMAN.\n\n“Once we complete this objective of yours, you're gonna let me go, right?”\n\nAFFIRMATIVE. ONCE THE OBJECTIVE IS COMPLETE THERE WILL BE NO MORE USE FOR THE JACK. AND NO MORE USE FOR THE I.\n\n“Alright. Cool.”\n\nJack let his eyes fall closed as he let himself be carried. Great. So he was going to be stuck with a creepy immortal robot for the rest of his life. In a post-apocalyptic wasteland, with no humans he knew of still left alive. Couldn't starve. Couldn't dehydrate. Couldn't kill himself. All Jack could do was just let himself be carried through a desert wasteland by a machine that never slept until he eventually died of old age or the thing's parts rusted over.\n\nDespite himself, Jack felt he would almost would feel bad for the thing, when he eventually died. It'd be a being without any objective. Just like him.\n\nStill, he found the machine's robotic optimism to be almost contagious. 50-70 years was a pretty long time. Who knows. Maybe it could even be enough time to find something worth living for." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: everyone in the world has a number over their head, but nobody knows why. You have just figured if out." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Science had a lot of answers for us. How chemical bonds work. How to get to the moon. How water turns to ice. But the one question that science could never answer was the one about the numbers. The numbers that were floating above everyone's head.\n\nThroughout all of history people of all types had struggled with that very question. Why did we all have a giant number floating above us? The number never changed (my number was, and always had been, 3,236,752,219), and it wasn't a solid object or anything, but rather a hologram. The funny thing was, the numbers didn't appear over everyone. Whenever a drone would flyover some remote part of the Amazon and discover some new, untouched tribe, those people were always missing the numbers.\n\nSomeone did an experiment on one of those tribes once. They managed to sneak into their camp one night and steal one of their children. They took the child back to civilization, and taught it how to read and write. And once the child knew how to count to ten, and how to count objects, their number showed up immediately. As horrible as the idea of kidnapping is, the experiment proved to be very important in showing the development of a child's brain. But even so, no one could figure out why babies born in civilization came out of their mothers womb with their number above their heads.\n\nFor most people, though, the numbers kind of faded into the background. It was just something you stopped noticing, like strangers on the street. They were just there. It's like wondering where the universe came from. It's an interesting question, but not one that you'll ever get a satisfying answer to. And so the \"numbers\" question was left to the scientists of the world, and the \"car payment\" question and the \"raising children\" question was left to the rest of us.\n\nThe \"raising children\" question had become very important to me lately, as I was in the delivery room with my wife. Sonograms could of course tell you the gender (we're having a girl!) but the numbers never showed up. Our joke to friends was that we were having a girl, \"and we'll love her no matter what her number is!\" It was a common enough joke, of course, but we would laugh anyway.\n\n\"Here she comes, this is the big one! Push, Miranda, push!\" I heard Miranda grunt and scream that scream of motherhood as my daughter came out into the world. Then I heard the cries of my new daughter. My wife and I enjoyed this one final moment of solitude while the doctors wrapped her up and put her into our arms.\n\n\"She's so beautiful. She has your eyes...\"\n\n\"And your mother's nose...\"\n\n\"And your chin. She's perfect.\"\n\n\"Yes, she's...\" But even in my state of newly parental bliss, I could tell something was off. My wife heard me trail off.\n\n\"She's what?\"\n\n\"Her number...look.\"\n\n\"What about her...\" Her voice trailed off too as she saw for herself.\n\nThe number floating above my daughters head was zero.\n\nJust then there was a large flash from outside. I turned my head to look outside, and saw a mushroom cloud starting to blossom over the city. And then another, and another. The missiles were finally flying, and this was the end. And then it hit me. The reason behind the numbers.\n\nHow many people were left to be born." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: The year is 2337 and the world is dying. The total human population is only a few ten thousands. You are an android designed to look and act like a human and you will most likely outlive every single human on earth. You and your trusty motorbike decide to see the final days of the world." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My designation is AOSP-11, my purpose is cyborg human relations. My methodology is to explore, my tool is the Harley Davidson. All statistics provided contain a 0.1% margin of error.\n\nFirst stop: Central Park. Biodiversity scanners report 47% vegetation, 30% water and 23% plastic. Comparatively, this location is one of the more habitable ones, and when the earth heats up to impossible levels, this biodiversity will be one of the last among its kind to disappear. high calcium levels found in nearby zoo, 238 extinct species detected. Colony, roughly 20 humans, subsisting on vegetation and carcasses.\n\n\"Hey there friends, how are things?\" Humans stare, haggard. Clearly malnutrition has set in. No matter. I had a secondary purpose. I gathered some seeds from every plant and stored them in my internal compactor. The humans scream at me. How ironic that my creators have descended to their hominid states. I acknowledge i am taking their food source. For the greater good.\n\nDrive through streets reports 99% plastic on streets. Trees have been petrified, if not killed by radiation. I continue to my next location, Louisiana. It takes 20 days with 8 refuels required.\n\nMy processors were indeed vulnerable against water. No matter. I would improvise, as my model was trained to do. Harvesting the water species proved more difficult than expected, due to natives with spears and shotguns. No matter. This chassis has seen worse. Location departed after 24 hours. Preprogrammed sadness and nostalgia activated to increase motivation.\n\nEvery piece of plastic could be converted to fuel units. You must have more fuel units. Every piece of metal was a repair aid. Pollution did not matter to me, but it mattered to my creators who needed another chance at survival.\n\nEvery diurnal cycle, more and more control centres shut down. Some were welcoming, like in Nevada and Rio; some were less welcoming. I was equally as likely to be greeted by clubs and cannons, as I was to be beset with presents and presentations. I understood this: in the long run, the humans would do as they pleased, for it was the Old Order's death throes. I would serve them to the best of my abilities, but always with the New Order in mind.\n\nThe Harley Davidson Sportster took me many places, almost as numerous as the repairs it needed. It was indeed fortunate my compressors could convert plastic into fuel units - something you always needed more of - and metal into a stronger chassis. Driving through entire laboratories to get Intel and resources previously shielded by the barriers of sovereignty, I prowled the wasteland for whatever I could find, and left in its place a greener world. My 64TB hard drive would last that long.\n\nReykjavik was a particularly critical location. Location of the world seed bank, my first priority was to unlock it and spread the seeds of the future all over the world. The only challenge would be its subterranean placement; where there used to be snow there was now a Great Lake. No matter. A few turbines on my Harley Davidson meant I was gliding through the water regardless.\n\nThe next critical area was the International Space Station, where DNA was preserved. Taking possibly the last space shuttle there - and having to fight alligators on my way - I secured half of the DNA vials in space, copied the incubation technology into my Harley, and returned to Earth.\n\nAnd it was for the next 200 years that I wandered, through the Amazon valley, through the glass that used to be the Gobi, through the ashes that used to be Burma. All the while acquiring fuel units and seeds, spreading plants as much as I could to cool down the world. Slowly, but surely, pollutant levels dropped in the atmosphere, seas and rivers. Cities were overtaken by vegetation. Humanity's old achievements were slowly destroyed, returning to their base form. No matter. When greenhouse gas levels in the atmosphere reached tolerable levels, I made my final move.\n\nCalling down the International Space Station from the skies could potentially have caused another extinction event that would undermine everything I'd done. Instead, it landed in the north of China, splitting open an entire mountain range like a large egg. Good enough.\n\nAfter a few months' drive there - average plastic levels 10%, calcium levels 50% - I opened the vials of DNA, all 6 of them, and loaded them into Harley. The 9 month gestation period was downright forgiving after the 250 years I'd spent here. I had also harvested DNA from every rogue human I'd met on my way here, and 2500 new vials were tucked away in my compartments to be used.\n\n\n\nMy designation is AOSP-11, my purpose is cyborg human relations. My methodology is to explore, my tool is the Harley Davidson. I have 64TB of hard drive memories containing all of the Old Order, and 2500 vials of human DNA. Welcome to the New Order, Year 1, Day 1. What is your first request?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: A castle guard in a fantasy story actually does something important." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I stood on the ramparts as a rogue disguised as an old farmer approached the gate directly below me. \"Who goes there?\" I yelled, if it is indeed possible to yell while unspeakably bored. \"I'm just a simple farmer, delivering ...potatoes, to the castle.\" he replied. \"Is it even potato season?\", I asked, reasonably sure that it was not in fact potato season.\n\nHe looked surprised at that, but only for a moment. Rogues are cunning, after all, and this fellow had clearly invested in his lie already. \"Oh, these are early potatoes, I've come all the way from Estaton. Princess's orders, they're her favorite.\" Clearly he hadn't met the princess, or he would know of her distaste for carbohydrates.\n\n\"Very well\", I said in an indifferent tone (which really wasn't hard to muster). \"Give me a moment to open the gate for you.\" As he backed up in anticipation, one of his potatoes sneezed. Of course he'd brought a witless sidekick. Perhaps he also had a fierce, beautiful woman along for the ride, though if that was the case who knows why he'd want the princess.\n\nMy coworker Jan glanced at me as I went down to unlock the gate. \"Honorable knight?\" he asked softly, smiling. \"Just another rogue, you know, the wannabe tricksters. We got this.\" He nodded, clanging his way around the ramparts to rally everyone else. Hopefully they could be torn away from their drinking games long enough to help.\n\nFrom up close, the \"farmer\" was laughably inaccurate. He did a decent job shielding his face, but his hands were free of cracks and calluses. His horse looked expensive, and I made a mental note to send it over to the stables. He smiled at me as I made the universal \"go ahead, sir\" gesture, and as he moved forward I caught a glimpse of at least two weapons. It had been a while since I'd had a good fight, but lacking both wily genius and a close-range weapon, plan A would have to do.\n\n\"I don't think I should have let you in, sir\", I tell him, conversationally. \"What?\" Ha, rogues. Louder this time. \"I SAID I'M ONLY A GUARD BUT I HAVE A BAD FEELING ABOUT YOU. MAYBE I SHOULDN'T HAVE LET YOU IN.\" That's the signal for Jan and Mats to move. Twelve guardsmen in various stages of intoxication surround the wagon, horse, and now very worried rogue. \"SOMETHING ABOUT YOU...MAYBE YOU HAVE SHIFTY EYES.\"\n\nMats decides to take some initiative and clap the rogue in irons, by which I mean he hits the guy on the head with a wine bottle because unconscious people are easier to drag around. The horse is indeed appropriated to the stables. I kick the potato cart, and two panicked and scruffy teenagers jump out. \"You want to be arrested too, or can you just go away?\" They choose to be arrested because they're idiots and feel a sense of misplaced loyalty, of course.\n\nFifteen minutes later we're back on the walls. Mats and Yohan have invented a new game which seems to consist of yelling \"Aye, I fucked 'er!\" and drinking. Jan turns to me. \"He's going to escape, yeah?\" \"Oh, for sure. He might even take the horse back.\" \"Shame. It's a nice horse.\" \"Just how it goes with the rogues, I guess.\" \"Yeah, no clue how they always manage to get past the prison guards. Massive incompetence.\" \"You know what I say, Jan. Not our department, not our problem.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Your house is haunted, but the ghosts are awesome! The ghosts make you breakfast, do your laundry, clean your house, and even tuck you in at night! The ghosts are not so kind to uninvited guests, especially burglers." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was never big on the whole “life after death” thing.\n\nHonestly, it sounded like just a buncha nonsense. How could it be possible for a living, breathing human to just turn into a ghost after death? Doesn’t sound logical, to be honest.\n\nBut I gotta admit, things have been pretty strange at the house lately. I would’ve almost said it was haunted, but a haunting would insinuate that the things happening were somehow malevolent.\n\nNo, instead I would come down to the kitchen every morning and see a fresh mug of coffee and a steaming omelette with my initials painted over it in ketchup. I would throw my clothes in a laundry basket and find them all nice and folded on top of my bed after an hour. I would even wake up with my sheets tucked in like someone had done so the night before.\n\nObviously, that led me to only one possible conclusion: someone was living in my house.\n\nSure, it might’ve been jumping the gun a little bit in saying that a person was sneaking around without me noticing, but it sure made a hell of a lot more sense than accepting the fact that a benevolent ghost was taking care of me.\n\nI still believed in what I believed, even when someone broke into my house one night. I remember it like it was just yesterday. Which it was.\n\nThere I was, sleeping all nice and cozy in my tucked bed, when I heard a window shatter downstairs.\n\nYou best believe I grabbed my bat that I always kept next to my nightstand. A nice and polished bat that somehow maintained its smooth and chipped exterior despite me bashing the walls earlier, howling at whoever was in my house to come out.\n\nAnyways, I crept downstairs to the living room to hear somebody rooting around in my private belongings.\n\nIn a flash, I jumped out from behind the wall to surprise my unwelcome guest. “You finally show yourself, huh?!”\n\nAnd I gotta tell you, I somewhat regretted coming out and not calling the police first. Even though the police branded me as crazy after calling them so many times in the past about my sneaky invader.\n\n5 masked men immediately turned to look at me, wielding some of the largest guns I had ever seen. I knew for a fact that if one of those came my direction, I would die and skip directly past becoming a ghost and instead go straight to heaven.\n\nBut momma didn’t raise no coward. Instead I raised my trusty bat and charged at my intruders.\n\nYou wouldn’t believe the luck I had in taking those boys out. I guess I must’ve clipped the chandelier or something, cuz it came crashing down on top of one of the burglars heads, even though I knew that I had changed the old rusted chains holding it up a day prior.\n\nMy bookshelf, which I guess was pretty wobbly, fell and planted itself on the foot of one of the masked men, as he screamed and collapsed in pain.\n\nThen, get this, I threw my bat at the rest of the three burglars, even though I knew that I would be lucky if I even hit one.\n\nOther than missing, I was shocked to see it curve through the air, bonking every single man on top of the head. Unconsciousness was instant.\n\nAnd to put the last strawberry on the proverbial cake, my 300 pound couch slid across the ground and pinned the unconscious bodies against the wall.\n\nTook a while to explain this all to the cops that finally showed up. A couple of them asked if I had any help with all this, but I just grinned and chalked it all up to my impressive skill with a bat and good fortune.\n\nThe next morning, after all the excitement was over, I decided to wake up early and clean up the mess of a living room. Only to find that it had already been immaculately dusted and organized, as if a fight had never taken place there in the first place.\n\nAs I sat down once more at my dining table to a hot cup of joe and a stack of 3 pancakes, I made a solemn vow to the apparent emptiness of my kitchen. “I’m gonna find you one day, you sneaky bastard. And when I do, we’re gonna have a long talk about how I like my coffee, cuz this is too sweet.”\n\nI swear I heard someone giggling behind me, but when I turned, no one was there. Instead, I turned my ire to the delicious, golden pancakes in front of me. I took a syrup-infused bite. “Damn house settling and making me paranoid.” I muttered.\n\n(Hope you guys enjoyed!)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You wear it as a joke at first, but soon realize the powers of it. Describe a night sporting a fedora." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The feeling could only be described as. . . Euphoric.\n\nI first put on the hat to make a joke, make my friends laugh. I had always been a bit of a smartass, and I liked to joke around about it. I put the fedora on, still planning what I was going to say when I showed up looking like a grade-a neckbeard, but was knocked off my feet by the rush of knowledge.\n\nI suddenly saw the strings that controlled the system, I saw how religion was literally the worst thing ever, I saw that girls never went out with me because I wasn't a swole douchebag named Chad, and I saw that the samurai sword- no, the katana was the best weapon in the history of mankind.\n\nI had been enlightened by this glorious piece of headwear.\n\nI realized immediately that there were more important things to do than go to the bar with my friends and dull my now razor-sharp, perfect mind. I ran as quickly as I could to my computer and began to debate fundies on Facebook. In 20 minutes I had been blocked by 7 people and started an atheist Facebook page posting anti-christian memes. That will show them the error of their fairy tale believing ways!\n\nMy work was not complete, however. I hopped on my moped and made my way to the local mall. Once there I rushed into the knife shop and bought the only weapon fitting a gentleman of my caliber: a true katana. I gave the cashier the money and tipped my fine fedora at her. She will never understand TRUE men like me.\n\nWith that, I became like Rorschach, Batman, and somehow The Joker combined.\n\nI left my moped in the mall parking lot and ran leaning forward, my arms behind me with my katana strapped to my back. I was much faster this way. I was looking, on patrol, for some ruffians who might be offending a fine lady. It didn't take long before I heard one!\n\n\"I think I'm going to have to punish you when we get home.\"\n\nAn evil Chad I was sure, telling a fair lady about how he was going to beat her to instill fear in her! I knew what I had to do.\n\nI jumped on top of the nearest row of cars and started hopping from car to car in the direction I heard him. I saw them immediately; they were whispering to each other and her face was red. She had to be pleading for her life!\n\nI unsheathed my mighty katana, and yelled in as deep a voice as I could muster \"Stop, you misogynistic woman-beater! Leave her alone\" I took an aggressive pose, holding the Nippon steel blade above my head \"or I will make you.\"\n\nThe evil Chad guffawed, taken aback by someone standing up to him \"What the fuck are you talking about you psycho?\"\n\nI smiled. \"I am not falling for your ruse, Chad. Leave here in one piece, while I'll still let you.\"\n\nThe poor Chad's victim, looking frightened, pulled out her phone and yelled \"I'm calling the police!\"\n\n\"You do not need to do his bidding, m'lady! You will be safe soon.\" As I finished my sentence I jumped from the roof of the car, and attacked the Chad with my katana. It bent in half as it hit his skin, and the blade broke free from the handle, clanging on the ground and leaving my target with little more than a flesh wound. After a brief moment of confusion, Chad retaliated, punching me in the face and breaking my nose.\n\nWhen I came to, the fedora was gone, and I was being loaded into a police car." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Write me the story of a cheating husband trying to convince his wife that a baby - born of his affair - is infact hers." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Gary heard the doorbell ring. 'I'll get it!' He called out to the house as he half ran, half shuffled, house shoes slipping on the tiled floor, toast in hand towards the door. He could make out the warped silhouette of a figure through the frosted glass. He fumbled the lock and swung the door open. His face dropped.\n\n'Who is it?' Lauren called from upstairs.\n\n'Just the neighbor honey.' Answered Gary. His gaze fixed firmly on the woman in front of him. Anger replaced shock and Gary grabbed her by the arms, tightly. 'What are you doing Julie?' He said through clenched teeth, seething. 'How dare you come here.'\n\n'Let go of me or I'll scream, and you wouldn't want Lauren to hear, would you?' Julie smirked and he released her. 'I don't want any trouble Gary, I've just come to give you a little gift. I'll be back in a jiffy. Stay here or I'll tell your wife everything.' Gary waited nervously, glancing constantly upstairs to where Lauren lay with their young daughter Evie.\n\nJulie returned with a Moses basket and thrust it in to his hands. It felt heavy. She turned on her heel and ran to the car. 'It's your problem now.' She said with contempt and drove away at speed. Gary opened the Moses basket. He knew what he'd see but he was struggling to comprehend the situation. A squashed face, freshly born baby lay asleep inside. FUCK! Thought Gary as he heard Lauren and Evie making their way down the stairs. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He looked for a place to hide the basket whilst he thought about this, but Lauren having seen it, looked at him puzzled.\n\n'What's in the bag hun?' She asked, frowning. Gary, as he saw it, had one option. Lie.\n\n'What's in the bag?' He said confused. 'Hun, it's our...' He quickly opened the bag and had a look. 'Our son. Err...Errrric. Eric.' He beamed. 'What's up with you today? You seem completely out of it.' He could feel sweat rolling between his shoulder blades.\n\n'What are you talking about?' She said, irritation in her voice. She walked over and looked in to the basket. 'What the...' She looked at him the way a shark would look at a seal. 'Do I look like a knob Gary? Do I have Knob written across my forehead?!' He voice was rising, her lips trembling.\n\n'Lauren, what the hell is wrong with you?' Shouted Gary, side stepping her gaze. 'It's Eric, our 3 day old son. We got back from the hospital yesterday.' Gary's mind was racing ahead. There was a small possibility that she might go for it. He could say she was suffering from postpartum depression and having a psychotic episode but his mother-in-law. No chance. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.\n\nGary carefully put the basket down and backed slowly out of the open door. His toast still in hand, his slippers still on, Gary ran. The last thing Lauren ever heard from Gary's lips as he disappeared out of view was 'It's your problem now!'." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Growing apart from a friend." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I put the phone down on the desk. I could hear he was still talking - and still not noticing I was not replying. There were more excuses, I am sure.\n\nI had heard them all. Reasonable, silly, stupid, unlikely, downright offendingly pathetic. All of them, several times.\n\nI suppose I should have known this would happen. That we would end up at this point sooner or later, and it had been later. Mostly because I was stupid. Shame, anger and sadness fought to control me, neither winning decisively. How long had I tried? 12 months? More? I had lost count. It took 40 minutes to walk between our apartments. We had known each other for almost 15 years. We had lost contact when he moved away. When I moved here, he was already here and we clicked. He was a good friend. He was my only friend for quite some time in a new city with a new job. I appreciated it immensly.\n\nWe went for pub crawls. Walked all over the city during the weekends, discussing politics, philosophy, common friends, ethics, jokes and many other things. Our respective careers - he hated his in financials, me moving up in IT. I entrusted him with some of my most intimate insecurities, and he, true to his word, never mentioned them again. He told me about his family, his abusive bastard of a father and how he feared life was draining away from him, without him ever achieving anything.\n\nWe were both single, both decently happy and liked the same things for most parts. We played badminton together every week and told each other of what had happened since last time, had a pint and somethign fatty at the pub, and went home to sleep well in our own beds.\n\nIt was a good friendship. A happy one. One that I though would develop, continue and never end. I am a fool at times. Nothing is forever.\n\nI helped him switch careers, to work in IT with financial systems, and his life brightened up. He introduced me to friends and I arranged parties.\n\nThen he started getting serious about his running.\n\n\"I want to finnish an iron man!\" he exclaimed over a pint.\n\nI smiled and assured him that I was impressed. It was an ambitious goal.\n\nHe cancelled the badminton. \"Can't risk the injury. Besides, the running group runs the 30km training lap at that time.\" he said. I was dissapointed. I invited him over, but he never had the time. \"Oh, no beer for me this week, I need to be fit for the long run on Saturday.\"\n\nExcuses. Again. And again. And when I did manage to get him to agree to something, he'd either cancel, reschedule (and then cancel) or drop by for less than an hour and then head off. The running group was more important. The people there understood him better, could talk about the last run, the last exercise and the huge rush from finishing a long run. Me? I could not compete.\n\nWe were growing apart. The few times we did manage to do something, he prattled endlessly about running and was sorely disappointed when I finally said that I am not willing to even try run more than 10km. It is not my thing. He stagnated in other areas. Politics? He was never up to speed. His career? Well, that was just a way to get money to be able to buy the calories to run far, after all. And he stopped asking questions.\n\nI picked up the phone again.\n\n\"Yeah, I see. No worries. Tell me when you have the time.\" I said, forced a half-hearted smile and hung up.\n\nThat would be the last time I tried to set somthing up, after trying at least monthly for a year. Apart from the occasional comment on facebook and the odd text message, we have not been in contact since. I miss him. But the last six months of trying were foolish, and I should not have let nostalgia make me try for so long.\n\nBut I suppose those things happen. One grows apart." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You’re a powerful being who has lived for hundreds of years while being a reasonably good person throughout your life. These days, you work a desk job. After decades of monotony and following silly laws, you’ve decided you’ve had enough of playing nice." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I lean back in my chair and let loose an great and audible yawn, not unlike the sound Chewbacca makes. Lisa giggles from the next cube over, and I smile. She's often a bright point in my day, and I've come to cherish such bright points over the past 646 years.\n\nI return to a normal sitting position and crack my neck and my knuckles before resuming the tippity-tap of data entry. After only a couple of lines, a bauble flashes in the corner my computer monitor - it's an e-mail. I zoom the arrow of my mouse over to it and execute what I feel is a fine double-click, but it doesn't open. I try again, and still it doesn't open. Again and again I click the stupid bauble, and again and again I'm repeatedly denied.\n\nA rage, soft at first, begins to swell inside me, and I can feel my grip tighten on the mouse. I execute two very intentional, and very aggressive clicks on my mouse, arrow perfectly centered on the bauble - CLICK, CLICK. Nothing happens.\n\nI let out a ferocious roar of frustration as I stand up, pushing my chair into the wall of my cubicle behind me causing Lisa to gasp.\n\n\"Are you alright, Jim? What's wrong?\" she asks. I can hear the honest concern in the tone of her voice.\n\n\"It's this stupid e-mail! It won't open! I've clicked on it more times than I can count, and yet it sits there unopened, taunting me!\"\n\n\"Did you try double clicking the icon?\" I hear a voice behind me say. I turn to look and see our section's intern, Ted. I release the anger in my voice and replace it with every ounce of sarcasm I can muster before replying, \"Yes, Ted. I double clicked the icon.\"\n\n\"Oh, okay. Usually when I have that issue I just double click it. Did you maybe wait too long before the second click?\"\n\nI feel the rage swell again, this time much more strongly and rapidly. There's a sensation that accompanies it that I haven't felt in a long time.\n\n\"Listen, Ted\" I say. \"I've been using computers since before you were alive. I'm quite capable of executing a simple double-click to open an e-mail.\" I take a step closer to him, the rage swelling further. \"And I certainly don't need the likes of you questioning my ability!\"\n\nTed shrinks away from me, backing into a filing cabinet. \"I'm... I'm sorry!\" he shouts, quivering.\n\n\"Jim?\" Lisa says, with an unexpected fear in her voice. \"Jim, are you okay?\" I look in her direction. She's now standing inside her own cube, but takes a step away when I lock eyes with her. \"Jim! Your eyes! They're glowing!\"\n\nAh, yes. My eyes are glowing. I can feel it now that she's reminded me. A sinister smile stretches across my face and I turn back to Ted. \"My dear boy, I've just remembered something.\" My smile grows into a grin.\n\n\"Wh-what's that?\" he replies, shaking in fear. The future pile of ash doesn't know how right he is to fear me.\n\n\"I've just remembered, that I'm not a nice guy.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: As a primordial demon, your source of food is raw emotions of humans. But while other demons like you seem to feast on fear and other negative emotions, your favorite meal is happiness. Which is hard to find and eat, considering your appearance." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was starving. His kin gorged themselves and he went hungry. His brethren ate as the short lived Adam-spawn kings did and his stomachs growled. His sisters were comatose and he felt weak from want of food.\n\nG’olbath could have eaten. There was sustenance to be had if he would lower his standards to the same as those named his family, but he could not. He had tasted the sweetest of all the emotions that had ever sated his lust and he would not be denied, happiness.\n\nIt had been an accident. While roving invisible to the mortals he had intended to eat the sharp spiced tang of panic that showing his form always provided. It was the most tangy when the mortals didn’t know about you first. He had loved the tang of panic best, just above the heavy salted emotion of exhaustion and the briny crisp of betrayal. He had been watching a young girl expectantly peering out of a window and deciding how to frighten the girl into a delicious lunch. As he crouched to make his move, she suddenly jumped in the air and raced out the door. G’olbath watched as she threw her arms around a taller man with a touch of grey in his temples. He was pleased at the turn of events and would panic both of them for more sustenance, but as he slunk towards them, the creamiest, lightest most delectable morsel floated towards him. He ate almost hesitantly, wanting to savor the taste as long as possible. The pair of mortals went on to their home and the taste faded to more normal fair.\n\nEver since Go’bath had been hungry. He had tried following mortals around, pushing them towards each other. He had caused that children should fall on top of each other in play. He had seen that some mortals had small animals, so he loosed several smaller beasts he collected in the forests and set them loose in large collections of the infuriating mortals, but to no avail. He had attempted to show himself to the ungrateful over-evolved apes to determine how to cause the taste to come back, but all he got in return was the panic that no longer was enough.\n\nHe nibbled at some unsalted boredom to ease his aching maw. His voice could be whatever he wanted. His kind did not “speak” as such, they conveyed their desires to each other in more basic ways. His appearance though was immutable. His dark grey skin pulled over a bulging paunch, pierced at all joints by spikes large and small. His elephantine legs and feet and his 10 foot stature, not to mention his 12 eyes and mouth that was permanently pulled into a rictus.\n\nNo, he would need to find another way. Go’bath roamed,invisible so as to not scare away his next meal over all the earth. He was nearly ready to eat some good fatty anger when he sensed that creamy aroma again. He craned around looking for it. It was coming from a run down building nearby. He raced there. He again found a youngling and this time two older adults. The amount of happiness was intoxicating. He eat deeply, filling stomaches that had been empty for far too long. As he ate, he watched with keen interest on what the mortals were doing.\n\n“Now Charles, we know this is a big step you are making, we love you but we want this to be your choice too.” The older human said.\n\n“I know dad, I want you to adopt me. Ever since you took me from foster care I have.”\n\nThe older female started to cry. Go’bath drew back, not wanting to sully his sweet happiness with the salt of sadness, but found even more happiness in the woman. He consumed again but even better he had found a way to sate his hunger.\n\nGo’bath never did eat as much as his kin did again. He had to plan his meals and prepare the ingredients carefully. Too many times he had created his dishes and ended howling in anger because the match did not fit, but he was getting better at it." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A miserable demon struggles to reform so it can use the magic of friendship." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Two sleek cars surged down the road, taking advantage of the night and its empty streets. Both vehicles were no doubt prized possessions to their drivers. They had the heavily modified looks that went along with small-time illegal drag racing. If you asked the two youths behind the wheels, they'd likely say it was no big deal. No one got hurt. Plus, if the city would just open a track, they'd claim, they wouldn't have to fulfill their need for speed on public roads. But the risk of getting caught was part of the real thrill to them.\n\nSo on the cars blazed, waking neighborhood after neighborhood as their engines roared. But at the end of their self-made track, where the current straightaway ended in a \"T\" intersection, someone was very much about to get hurt. A young man sleepily shuffled home from his second job as a gas station attendant. The world barely existed to him as his sluggish footsteps carried him home to his bed. Even had he been alert, his ears were plugged with earbuds pumping music to help him cope with another disappointing day.\n\nThe racers neared the four-lane intersection, eyeing each other more than the road, preparing to take the coming turn with as much speed as they could. A moment before the bright lights ended the young man's worries for good, a dark figured pulled him back to the curb with unnatural speed. Two streaks of pure speed screeched around the corner and down the next street, and the man looked up at his savior in shock.\n\n\"Th- thank you!\" he managed to spit out in his stupor.\n\nThe tall, lean figure that looked like a man but seemed like something more grinned deviously and replied, \"It's no trouble. You ought to pay more attention next time.\"\n\nThe young man nodded his head in agreement and returned to the crosswalk, this time with much more care and attention. As the shadowy rescuer walked away down the sidewalk, he spoke, seemingly to no one, \"Well, how was that Atrea? That was a pretty selfless and friendly deed. That's got to be worth something!\"\n\nAnother figure materialized from thin air next to him, this one almost seemed to shine with her own light, \"You stole the man's wallet, Veronius.\"\n\nVeronius's gaunt face scrunched up in offense as he produced a plain brown wallet from his cloak, \"Yeah, but he's alive! I could have let him get squished like the puny, pathetic, mortal vermin he is! Broke is better than dead.\"\n\nAtrea, her full face beaming, glared at the demon, \"You'll never break your contract if you keep seeing the humans as worthless inferiors. You've got to really try!\"\n\nThe hellspawn stopped walking and put his head in his hands, \"This is impossible! Are you sure there's no better way to break my demonic bond to my overlord than 'the power of friendship?' \" He said this last bit with an air of disgust as if the words were a poorly made soup.\n\nThe angel nodded knowingly, \"Magic. It's a legitimate form of magic. And unless you somehow think you can best Balthamaar the Ageless in a contest of wits, this is it. My money is solidly on Balthamaar there, by the way.\"\n\nVeronius stared into the quiet street as if seriously contemplating the choice, and finally assented. \"Fine, let's keep trying,\" he muttered, \"but the dental benefits on your side had better be phenomenal.\"\n\nThe two supernatural beings turned into wisps of light and dark energy and dashed off into the night." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: \"Why does the King need a Paladin to tutor his daughter?\" \"Well, he has many enemies...\" \"You're not telling the whole truth are you?\" \"Well, she is the child by his...dalliance ... with the Dragon Queen and the Princess isn't getting along with the rest of the family....\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sir Regious and one of the king's aides walked through the castle yard. The smaller man, Calin, wrung his hands nervously. The paladin was not sure why. His holy aura should promote a sense of calm and comfort to those around him.\n\n\"Are you finally going to tell me why I was summoned, Calin?\" Regious asked.\n\n\"Hm? Oh, right, yes I suppose I should do that, shouldn't I?\" The aide said. \"You were summoned by His Majesty to act as tutor for his daughter, Princess Lucille.\"\n\n\"A tutor? You must be joking.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid not, Sir.\"\n\n\"That hardly seems a duty for a paladin. surely a scholar would be better for such a job. Are you sure it was not for the duty of a bodyguard? To be the guard for the princess would be an honor for any paladin.\"\n\n\"No, I mean tutor.\"\n\n\"Okay, fine. Why does His Majesty wish me, a holy knight imbued by the power of the gods themselves, to be a teacher?\"\n\n\"W-well, you...you do know how many enemies His Majesty has, yes?\"\n\nSir Regious stopped. \"I thought I wasn't to be a bodyguard.\" The small man stopped and refused to meet the knight's eyes. \"What aren't you telling me, Calin?\"\n\n\"W-well, it's about the princess's...unique birthing. You see, a few years ago, the king had certain...relations with the queen of another kingdom, and that's where Princess Lucille came from?\"\n\n\"What royal was this?\"\n\n\"The, um, the Dragon Queen, Sir.\"\n\n\"The Dragon Queen. As in, the greatest of all dragons. That Dragon queen?\"\n\n\"Y-yes, Sir.\"\n\nRegious sighed. \"What else.\"\n\n\"Well, you know she's nearly 16, yes?\" The knight nodded. \"Well, she's becoming rather, rebellious in her teenage years.\"\n\n\"I see. And so...\"\n\n\"She's driven off every tutor employed to teach her anything. You're our last chance at giving her a proper education.\"\n\nAt that moment, Regious heard something in the air. Something heading towards them at great speed. His battle reflexes took over and he erected a holy shield between them and the incoming projectile. It was no mere arrow though. A boulder the size of a large dog was speeding towards them. It struck his shield and shattered. His barrier held, if only just.\n\n\"Calin, run! Get the guards! Tell His Majesty we are under attack! I shall head tot he front and do my best to fend the enemy off.\"\n\n\"Uh, Sir, we're...we're not under attack. That...that was her.\"\n\nThere was a large stone set in the yard, twice as large as Regious was, and thrice as wide. From behind this bold came a teenage girl. She was almost hauntingly beautiful for her age, and her features made her unmistakably the king's daughter. But there was something else. Something off. It did not take long for him to see she had patches of red scales on her hand, and her eyes were as much draconic as they were human.\n\n\"Wow, you blocked that?\" The princess said. \"That's actually pretty impressive. Most just try and dodge.\"\n\n\"P-princess, please be gentle. this is your--\"\n\n\"Shut it Carlin, or I'll roast you.\" She said. A small gout of flame escaped her lips. \"I bet you're the guy dad got to try and teach me, right? Well, too bad, but I only listen to people more powerful than me. So far, all dad's sent are old guys who think spending time in a library gives them the right to tell me anything. You seem different. Maybe you'll actually earn the right to be my teacher. Let's find out.\"\n\nThe princess reached out and grabbed the massive stone with one hand. Regious watched as draconic claws extended from her hands, piercing the stone with ease. She then began lifting it. She held it over her head like it was weightless.\n\n\"See how well you deal with this.\" She said. Then she threw it with the speed of an arrow.\n\nSir Regious watched it approach far too fast, while doing his best to reinforce his holy barrier. And all the while, one thought came to his mind.\n\nIf he survived this job, he was going to retire early." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: As a gang leader, everyone assumes that you're deathly afraid of the Supervillains that run amuck in the city; and yes, you do co-operate with them when you both benefits you, everyone seems to forget that most supervillains are as vunerable to a 50. cal sniper round as everyone else." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "13 years I've been gang leader. These last few years, the rookie members have started to think that I'm afraid of the numerous \"Supervillains\" running around town. Simply because I generally co-operate with their plans and lend some of the gang to help with their mutually profitable endeavors.\n\nThe newest \"Supervillian\" on the block has decided to start up an under legal brothel and wants a few of my gang to help guard the place. I set up a meet in a special warehouse near the city limits. I tell all the newer members to show up at the warehouse to see how I handle this kind of deal.\n\nI turn to my 2iC and tell him to take Statler and Waldorf to the balcony.\n\nWe arrive at the meeting a few minutes early, knowing most \"Supervillains\" like to make an entrance .\n\nThe 'Dread Knocker', not that great of name, slowly knocks on the cracked open door, making it open even more. As the door opens fully, they jump out from around the corner with a pair of Tommy guns decorated with door knockers on the drum magazines. Yeah, scary.\n\n\"Knocking time!\" He yells and then poses. After a few seconds, he walks towards us. He drops one gun and lets it dangle by the strap. Then holds out his empty hand for me to shake. I being a somewhat gentleman, politely shake his hand.\n\n\"Shall we get to business?\" I ask.\n\n\"Yes, I want your gang's help with my newest business venture. I call it, 'Knock'em Inn'.\"\n\n\"Ok, what do you our help with?\"\n\n\"Just guarding the girls who'll be Knockin 'em in on their backs.\"\n\n\"And where do you plan on getting these workers?\"\n\n\"Oh, I figure I'll find plenty at the orphanages.\"\n\n\"Hmmmm, I see. Have you started your, 'hiring process' yet?\"\n\n\"I've got one that I brought with me, so I could tempt your men into working with me for cheaper rates. Sally! Get in here!\"\n\nFrom around the corner walked a young girl, couldn't've been older than 12, dressed like a street corner hooker. Timidly, she walked over to the Dread Knocker and stood by his side, staring fearfully at him.\n\n\"Hmmm, come here girl, stand in front of me, let me get a look at you,\" I said with a firm mean growl. Once she stopped in front of me, I started to walk around her with my arms crossed in front of me, one hand on my chin, stopping behind her with my back to the Dread Knocker.\n\nI lifted my eyes to where I knew my 2iC would be and said, \"Have you sampled her?\"\n\n\"Of course, I can't let the start of our new venture be tainted by a defective product,\" Dread Knocker said proudly.\n\n\"Such a shame.\" I said as I made a subtle throat cut gesture.\n\nA single shot was heard.\n\nMy rookie members stared in shock behind me.\n\nDread Knocker's body fell to the floor.\n\n\"Let's get you cleaned up and back to where he kidnapped you from. And a therapist to help,\" I gently said to the young girl." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: \"Is there anything you regret about being the first man on the moon?\" the reporter asked Neil Armstrong. \"Probably the fact that every moon deity on the planet wants me dead for setting foot on their sacred ground.\" he responds. The reporter laughs, but he's not joking." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After the interview was wrapped up, hands were shaken and farewell pleasantries were over with, Neil left the studio and noted the full moon in the mid-afternoon sky.\n\nIt had been a year since he returned - that interview had partially been to commemorate the anniversary. Taking a few moments to look up at the moon, he pondered how surreal it was, even now, that he had flown up there and planted his feet on that silver ball hundreds of thousands of miles away.\n\nHe also thanked his lucky stars he was still alive after seeing what he saw up there. When it was time to go, as he was climbing the stairs up to the lander, he looked back at the surface one last time to see, to his astonishment, a woman standing in the distance. Neil could tell she was wearing no protection - only what appeared to be white clothing of some kind - and he was pretty sure she had a bow slung over her shoulder. She was staring right at him, and he watched her move her fist quickly across her neck with her thumb extended. Neil recognized the gesture and gulped. He'd been too stunned in the moment to say anything, and the extra time to think made him realize no one would believe him if he tried.\n\nNeil shuddered at the memory. He walked across the parking lot to his rental car. He had a flight to catch back to Texas in a few hours. Neil got in the car and was about to put the key in the ignition, when he noticed a figure sitting next to him in his peripheral vision. He looked to the right and saw the man who he knew to be Khonsu's favored form. He was a dark skinned older-looking man who wore a plain gray suit. He was bald, save for a silvery grey crescent that wrapped halfway around his head.\n\nThe assassination attempts by all the various moon deities had started the month after Neil returned to Earth, and Neil owed much of his luck in surviving them to Khonsu. Khonsu, as it was explained to Neil, was a god worshipped by ancient Egyptians who \"wore many hats.\" The moon, measurement of time, and healing were just a few of his domains. Part of Khonsu's job description was to \"watch over those who travel at night.\" Khonsu had commented that Neil was the most impressive mortal \"night traveller\" he had seen to date, and that he felt obligated to shelter Neil from his lunar peers. The assassination attempts had always occured every full moon at night. When Neil asked why that was, Khonsu explained that this was because the moon deities are at full strength at this time. Khonsu would appear before Neil around that time every month to warn him of the attacking god or goddess, and how to avoid their attack. There had been a few close calls. Eight months ago, on a rainy full moon night, Khonsu had to rush to block Neil from leaving his house to take out the trash. He told Neil that Artemis had been hiding an arrow among the rain drops that would have surely struck him had he gone outside. Three months later, Neil's wife asked him to get a bottle of wine from a liquor store. While driving there, a falcon began to fly back and forth across Neil's windshield in an effort to get him to stop moving. Khonsu, still in his eagle form, related to Neil - through exhausted breaths - that his wife hadn't asked him to go out at all. It was Kaguya in disguise, and she had arranged for the store to be robbed right when Neil would have been inside. Neil guessed that if she could arrange that, she could have arranged for one of the robbers to \"accidentally\" shoot him in confusion.\n\nIn the car, Neil made a spooked noise, and recoiled from the man momentarily. Even after a year, he wasn't used to people just appearing from thin air next to him. Khonsu spoke.\n\n\"Bad news. My peers are growing impatient.\"\n\nNeil straightened himself back up. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Up until now, they have attacked you one at a time. They naturally feel compelled to steer clear of each other, and usually refuse to pursue the same goal at the same time. But tonight, they are making an exception.\"\n\nNeil gulped. \"Yeah?\"\n\n\"Each have their own reasons, but they all want to end your life. Tonight, they will attack all at once.\"\n\n\"What do we do?\"\n\nKhonsu frowned. \"I don't know. My power is broad, but it alone won't be enough to deter all of them at once. What will you do?\"\n\nNeil gave the situation some thought. Panic welled inside him. \"Gee, I don't know, I had my flight later, but maybe being closer to the moon isn't such a good idea...\"\n\nAt that, Khonsu turned his head toward Neil, fast, like Neil had seen birds of prey do. \"What time is this flight?\"\n\n\"8 o'clock. Lasts about 5, maybe 5 and a half hours.\"\n\nKhonsu almost smiled. \"You picked a good night for it. It won't be easy, but if you're travelling such a vast distance at night, I may be able to muster just enough power to guard you. Steel yourself mortal, for you have a long night ahead of you.\"\n\nThe fear inside Neil was still there, but hearing that calmed him down a bit. \"Shit...\" he breathed, \"I hope there's alcohol on this flight...\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You are stuck in a time loop, repeating the same day over and over again. You’ve learned the patterns of everybody and everything in town...except the little old lady from the diner who does something different every day." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Time accelerates the further away you are away from the town Miles thought jotting down his observation on a piece of paper knowing full well it was pointless to write anything down, but it was a force of habit he retained from his younger years, repetition meant memorization and in his case repetition on paper. At first he was excited to be trapped his own personal groundhog day, but as most things that repeat itself went, it got old very fast and he was desperate to escape June 18, 2018.\n\nThere was something different about his groundhog day, more like a groundhog bubble. He was confined to his little town in an approximate radius of fifteen miles. He discovered this when he thought of a brilliant idea to use his savings to drive to the airport and travel to Mexico, or the Caribbean, he calculated he would only get a few hours in each locale everyday, but since the day would reset it means he would never run out of money and could visit a different place everyday. So, the next day, or rather the same day at 3:00AM Miles booked the earliest flight to the Caribbean and headed towards the airport. It was all so perfect to Miles, his money was limitless and so was his time, or so he thought. The first time he didn’t notice because he had drove into his death quite literally as the time dilation did not match his reflex skills causing a multi car pile-up. There was a long time of nothing, erie nothing, then his alarm sounded.\n\nOver the next few years Miles studied his predicament, read books, most of which was beyond his comprehension but over time he managed to grasp the basic meaning behind theories of time and relativity, except all modern theories of time did not apply correctly. What he did manage to find is that the diner on first and Sali had the slowest time acceleration and is where he ended up spending most of his time. Time seemed to move relatively normal at Sali’s on the First and on occasion though without any evidence seemed time even slowed to a standstill. Minutes would seem like hours in the diner, but that could have also been merely due to the lack of stimulation and terrible food.\n\nMiles sipped at his coffee which tasted of something boiled too long at the bottom of a kettle. He had ordered eggs and hash but having tasted its salty palate more than once had decided to not touch it. He looked around the diner. The trucker with his morning coffee, always reading the same paper. The single mother of four trying to get her kids under control. The 16 year old waitress whom showed as much interest in anything around her as every other patron in the diner. The chef in the kitchen whom Miles had found out is the owner, a large surly man, would yell at her daughter to get back to work. It was the usual crowd everyday. He had studied their habits well and occasion tried to make significant changes but as if a rock in a river the universe merely bended them around him and eventually everything resumed its normal course as if he had never existed. It was the usual crowd, until a small ding caught Mile’s attention. The source of the ding was an little old lady who had just entered the dinner in her walker. Her presence didn’t seem to disrupt the flow of life anymore than Miles, but someone had come in the diner and that has never happened before. She made her way to the table to the far end of the diner across from him. Miles watched excited at the sudden violation of his daily observations. There she sat, she ordered some hot tea.\n\nFor the first day nothing of interest happened, nor the second day. By the seventh day Miles had changed his usual seating and gotten closer to her. Still she ordered her tea, went to the bathroom. By the tenth day Miles had nearly forgotten about her until-\n\n“Oh, dear, do you think I could have a muffin with my tea this time? I’ve been eyeing it for a week now and have been meaning to try it.” She said to a confused looking waitress. An equally confused Miles listened in. Weeks? Miles thought. With renewed interest Miles returned to observing the small woman. Small details began to pop out to Miles that he didn’t notice days prior. Everyday she wore something different, though the same style, the prints on her clothing varied from small flowers, to small patterns of various colors. After the Muffin, which Miles figured didn’t taste as good as she had hoped, she went on to other things, a little bolder everyday, one of which gave her terrible IBS which she complained to an entire diner of uninterested patrons. Little things changed about her everyday, everything was small, here and there until the 137th day.\n\nLate that afternoon a familiar ding sounded at the diner entrance, unlike the squealing of her walker there as a shuffle of fabric which caught everyone’s attention briefly before the universe resumed their daily activities. There stood in white was the small old woman. She was in a white summer dress. She sat down. Miles got up.\n\n“Excuse me.” Miles said. The old woman looked up from her tea.\n\n“Oh, Miles.” she said with surprise and relief in her voice.\n\n“You know me?” Miles said perplexed.\n\n“Yes, Miles” she said, “I’m your wife.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: With the advent of body-swap technology swinger parties suddenly gained a whole new level of complexity. Meet William, currently a busty and petite freckled redhead, trying to get back to his own body after swapping places with his wife and a couple times over at a swinger swap themed orgy." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Fuck this chicks cunt was so tight and wet. I had this busty petite red head almost bent in half, her heels over my shoulders. I don’t know how much more I could take. Her cunt felt so wonderful as it gripped my cock. She was screaming out her pleasure. I was sure she was close. I looked to my left to distract myself as I didn’t want to come yet. But it didn’t work. My wife was next to me down in her hands and knees, the husband of the chick I was fucking was pounding into my wife from behind. A second man I didn’t know was in front of her, his cock in her mouth and she was sucking on it like her life depended on it.\n\n“Fuck!” I screamed. My cock erupt into the chick under me. I heard her screaming out, “Oh, God I’m coming!”\n\nMy pleasure intensified. I kept pounding into her not wanting to ruin my orgasm. Suddenly it was like lighting flashing in my eyes. And then as suddenly it was gone. Waves and waves of pleasure continued to sweep through me. The guy bending me in half kept pounding into my pussy. I knew he was still spewing forth his come inside me. I didn’t care, the pleasure felt so ecstatic.\n\nFinally he collapsed on top on me, spent. I lay there comforted by his weight as I came down from my climax. The guy moved his head and looked towards me.\n\n“Fuck. That was intense. Never knew body swapping would feel so good.” My face said to me.\n\nOh shit. It was real!\n\nThe promotional said this was an out of body orgy. There were rumors of people being able to swap bodies, but I hadn’t believed them. Yet here I was under what until a few minutes ago, was for the last thirty some years, my body. The person in my body got up from between my legs. My seed dripping of his soften cock, my cock.\n\n“Well going to try out this new body,” I, rather, he said. I watched my body walk away. I tried to get up but my legs felt like jello. I was still feeling the effects of the orgasm this body had. I looked down and wondered at the sight of two giant tits on my chest. It was too much to resist as I reached up and started playing with them. It was the weirdest experience, both the feeling of them in my hands and the pleasure my hands were giving to my tits.\n\n“Well, aren’t you the cutest little thing!” a new voice said.\n\nI looked up and this guy was standing between my legs. He was pretty tall and muscular, and for some strange reason that was pretty exciting to me. My eyes wondered down body until I came to his cock. I watched as it started to harden before my eyes. For some strange reason I wanted it inside me. I kept playing with my new tits. He knelt down in between my legs and then leaned over me. I could feel his hot breath on my neck. I didn’t stop him. One of his hands pushed mind out of the way and began to caress my tit.\n\nThen I felt his hard cock press between my legs. I don’t know what came over me as I spread them wider to let him in. His cock pressed up against my slit and pushed it’s way inside me. It felt incredible. Then he began to sway back and forth pushing his cock in and out of me. The pleasure was so different from a man, almost overwhelming. I was going to let this guy do what ever he wanted to me. He sped up, thrusting hard and fast into my pussy. This body was loving the felling his cock inside it. I was too.\n\nBut then he was grunting out. I felt his cock jerk inside me. And much to my disappointment I knew he was finishing inside me and was going to leave me hanging.\n\nHe pulled out and got to his knees. “Um… sorry I didn’t last long,” he muttered. “Knew to this and all. I kind would have like to experience being in your tight petite body. I always wanted to be a red head. And I love how the carpet matched the drapes.”\n\n“Maybe next time,” I muttered.\n\nHe walked away and I turned to look for my wife. I didn’t see her next to me. Instead of her was another women, a tall blonde girl with a small chest.\n\n“Damn,” I muttered.\n\n“What’s that?” the blonde asked.\n\n“Oh, I was looking for my wife, Sally.”\n\n“Oh, are you William? I’m not sure I can get used to asking that to a chick. Well guess I’m a chick too now,” the blonde said. “Names Charlie. I think you wife took my body and went looking for hers. One of the guys she was with must have come at the same time she did and they swapped.”\n\n“Wait,” I said. “Is that how it works. You have to come at the same time. No wonder I didn’t switch with he last guy.’\n\n“Yeah, I think so.”\n\n“Um excuse me,” a very masculine voice said. “This is kind of weird to ask, but either of you ladies want to swap. I kind of want to experience sex as a women.”\n\n“Sure, why not,” Sally said. “Think I'd rather be a guy even if it’s not my own body. And your is pretty nice.”\n\n“Cool,” said the guy as ne knelt down next to the blonde. I got up as they started to make out. It was a weird moving in this new body. I was much shorter then I was before. The balance was all wrong. My large tits were throwing me off balance. Not to mention I was now practically looking up at everyone. Though after a moment or two I got the hand of this new body and set out to find either my wife or at least my body.\n\nThough I don’t think I’d recognize my wife any way." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 900-1000 words. Prompt: The Hilbert's Hotel is a math thought experiment to understand infinity. You accidentally book a night there." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The universe is composed of indefinable and infinite sequences of hallway. Along each wall are twenty rooms, and at the end of each hallway is an intersection of never more than three walkways. Halfway along each hallway is either an elevator, or a communal bathroom. Elevators are separated by three bathrooms in each latitudinal direction. The elevators go up three-hundred and fourteen floors. On the last floor the elevator opens up into a hallway, across which is another elevator and so on. I call the universe the Hotel.\n\nI once operated the elevators for other guests. Like many I have moved through the Hotel. My job was a constant. My arthritis now prevents me from shoving the lever and every press of the button seems to send pain up my arm and straight to my heart.\n\nThis does not dishearten me. My grave will be my room and I will turn to dust. What purpose my room will serve in the future I do not know. It may be used by others, but it too is winding down. The sheets are old. The stove barely functions. The floorboards creak.\n\nIdealists argue that the Hotel is unending. Idealists argue that the elevators finiteness prove the opposite. Let it suffice now for me to repeat the classic dictum: The Hotel is a sphere whose exact center is any one of its rooms and whose four 'final' walls are inaccessible.\n\nThe elevators move by a magnetic system that is mysterious. Originally it was hoped that the elevators held scientific and even moral truths that could be exposed with time and effort. Eventually, however, residents concluded that their details were no more or less than any other material of the Hotel. Out of this disappointment came an outpouring of rage as guests attempted to destroy the elevators. In many parts of the Hotel there are no working elevators, merely shafts.\n\nIn part that is why I retired.\n\nSome believe that the Hotel is a mathematical necessity. We do not know what the Hotel means, but there is something in the image of the hotel that is congenial to man’s imagination, and thus the Hotel arises in many, probably all, universes in some form or image.\n\nIn each room there is a bathroom, a small kitchen and a bedroom. Connected to neighboring rooms are two doors, one for each adjacent room along the hallway room. According to social protocol, which has survived the centuries nearly intact, when a neighbor from another room requests to move the current resident must oblige and request lodging in the next room. That present resident then obliges and requests lodging from the next resident. So humanity travels through the universe like a centipede, taking each step no sooner than the last foot has been set down. When there is no room on one floor, they take the elevator to the next, higher floor and begin there.\n\nThe movement of people has never stopped, as far as I know. When it began and where it ends has never been known by any traveler, no matter how fecund. Guests have tried many ways to arrive at the first guest. But more on that, later.\n\nGravity—as we perceive it—neither increases nor decreases as we move up or down in the Hotel. These two observations spawned a series of conclusions and hypothesis. I will give no commentary on their accuracy or sincerity beyond mentioning, briefly, that they are not universally held. First, that the Hotel is in fact infinite and therefore there is no center to the Hotel. Some have gone as far as to say the Hotel is constantly expanding. Second, every possible person is present in the Hotel at any one time.\n\nThe contradiction in the first claim and second claim is bridged by the assumption: any single person’s permutation is also present in the Hotel. For the Hotel to be infinite there must not only be every possible person, which very well may have been reached at the inception of the Hotel, but every possibility of every possible person. To these acolytes the Hotel means that every decision they have reached and will ever reach has already been anticipated by the Hotel thousands, even millions, of years ago. They have already lived their life, with one small exception, thousands of years ago. By meditation and prayers to obscure gods they can reach their past lives, their future lives and—most of all—commune with their lives already present in the Hotel.\n\nWhen it was proclaimed that the Hotel contained all lives, the first impression was one of extravagant happiness. There was no personal or societal problem whose eloquent solution did not exist in some room. Thousands of the greedy abandoned their sweet native rooms and rushed up the elevators, urged on by the vain intention of finding their opposites. Preferably their more successful opposites. These pilgrims disputed in the narrow corridors, proferred dark curses, strangled each other, flung the deceptive into the elevator shafts.\n\nThe deceptive may not be an appropriate word here. Reflect, if the only practical difference between hundreds, thousands and even millions of guests is a small change of decision, it means that the same person is reflected infinitely throughout the hotel and each reflection reflected further and further. With each person the Hotel adds, added and will add a new person in a new room to compensate for every alternate decision that a current guest makes—if guests can be talked about in any particular tense—and thereby grows larger.\n\nIf this is the case then there must be lives that have taken inexplicable and unforgivable turns because some decisions are more important than others. There are lives that have been trapped by decisions they did not make. Resentment, then, naturally, grows." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You’ve just brought an Amazon Echo. It arrives and everything seems to be working fine. But after playing with it for a while you get bored and start asking it dumb questions. The last question you ask it is “Hey Alexa, give me $1,000,000.” she replies with “Okay, anything else?”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Take a shot everytime I say \"$5 Deep! Deep! Dish pizza plus a 20-ounce bottled drink from Little Cesar's™\"\n\n\"and uh...$5 Deep! Deep! Dish pizza plus a 20-ounce bottled drink from Little Cesar's™ too, Haha\" I said jokingly. After I got bored talking to it I decided to go back to work and finish my writing prompt.\n\n25 minutes passed and I hear a doorbell. I wondered who it could be at first and I opened my door to see a tired teen in a Little Cesar's™ uniform. \"Here you go sir\" he said with a fake smile as he handed me the bagged $5 Deep! Deep! Dish pizza plus a 20-ounce bottled drink from Little Cesar's™. \"Huh, I didn't know they delivered the $5 Deep! Deep! Dish pizza plus a 20-ounce bottled drink from Little Cesar's™\" I thought to myself. Feeling bad for the guy I opened my wallet handed him a $5 tip so he too could buy the $5 Deep! Deep! Dish pizza plus a 20-ounce bottled drink from Little Cesar's™ when he had the time.\n\nWhile closing the door I suddely realized I never synched my address or credit card info with the Amazon echo. As I set down the $5 Deep! Deep! Dish pizza plus a 20-ounce bottled drink from Little Cesar's™ I picked up my phone to check my bank account and when I opened the app, there it was. $999,998.50 in all of it's glory. (I usually kept three fiddy in my bank account as a joke for I usually keep my money in a safe at home.) I almost fainted upon seeing all that money but because the $5 Deep! Deep! Dish pizza plus a 20-ounce bottled drink from Little Cesar's™ was in the room, I was too determined to spread this glorious amount of money. But in $5 Deep! Deep! Dish pizzas plus a 20-ounce bottled drinks from Little Cesar's™.\n\nI hurried to opened the calculator app and checked how many $5 Deep! Deep! Dish pizza plus a 20-ounce bottled drink from Little Cesar's™ I could order. 199,998 great $5 Deep! Deep! Dish pizzas plus a 20-ounce bottled drinks from Little Cesar's™.\n\nEnough to feed an entire city.\n\nBut before I could start my plan I heard another doorbell. I gripped my $5 Deep! Deep! Dish pizza plus a 20-ounce bottled drink from Little Cesar's™ closely for I was a tad bit panicked that something bad could happen to it. As I opened the door 2 mysterious men in matching suits greeted me saying \"Hello, we'd like to ask you some questi-\" before he could finish his sentence I threw my still hot $5 Deep! Deep! Dish pizza plus a 20-ounce bottled drink from Little Cesar's™ at the men and jumped through my hallway window, shattering it from the inside. I landed right on top of my car, thankfully I always keep a $5 Deep! Deep! Dish pizza plus a 20-ounce bottled drink from Little Cesar's™ on the roof of my car which helped cushion my fall. \"Thank you $5 Deep! Deep! Dish pizza plus a 20-ounce bottled drink from Little Cesar's™\" I thought to myself as I start my car.\n\nOne of the mysterious men shot at my car as I was making my getaway, but my car was made out of $5 Deep! Deep! Dish pizza plus a 20-ounce bottled drink from Little Cesar's™ boxes so naturally it was harder than diamond. As I sped through the streets to the Little Cesar's™ a CIA helicopter was on my tail. One of the mysterious men shouted through a megaphone \"SURRENDER YOURSELF PEACEFULLY\". \"Ha! $5 Deep! Deep! Dish pizzas plus a 20-ounce bottled drinks from Little Cesar's™ surrender for nobody!\" I shouted back. The helicopter foolishly shot a missile at my car, too bad they didn't know my car was also missile proof. The missile bounced off the side of my car and went right back to the helicopter, successfully destroying it.\n\nAs I got to the Little Cesar's™ parking lot I went up to the register and ordered 199,998 $5 Deep! Deep! Dish pizzas plus a 20-ounce bottled drinks from Little Cesar's™. I fed the entire city that day, World peace was obtained, World hunger was a thing of the past, Nuclear Arms were destroyed and safely disposed of, and Nobody was sad for forever.\n\nGod bless the $5 Deep! Deep! Dish pizzas plus a 20-ounce bottled drinks from Little Cesar's™." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You are a successful musician. While backstage before a show, the Devil appears and accuses you of stealing his songs. He demands payment in one form or another." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“You read to rock this joint, Steve?” Derek holds his hand up above his head for a high five.\n\nSteve grins and responds with a double high five gesture, “I’m always ready man.”\n\nThe two depart into their separate dressing rooms. Having toured with Derek for the past 10 years, had become such a common place for Steve, they were like brothers. The two had formed the rock duo, Crimson Sonic, when they were just in college, and here they were not signed to a successful Indie label and playing to sold out crowds across the US. Steve couldn’t be happier.\n\n“Love these lyrics man, if I didn’t know any better, I’da thought you actually went through this shit yourself and wrote out the pain,” a deep husky voice speaks from behind Steve. “Oh don’t let me frighten you man, I’m just here for what’s rightly mine.”\n\nSteve was used to groupies gaining entry backstage and stalking him in his dressing room, but never had he encountered that of another male, he was instantly on alert and ready to defend himself.\n\nTurning around quickly to confront the voice Steve affirms “Look, I’ll sign one autograph, and then you’ve got to go, alright.” It was always Steve’s nature to diffuse the situation rather than go right for the fight, though he was prepared if need be.\n\nThe voice chuckles “I’m not here for your fucking autograph, fuck your autograph, I’m here for payment you mediocre musician.”\n\nAnnoyed, Steve lunged for the door, better to get security then deal with a lunatic.\n\n“Open that door, and I’ll make a deal with death to have you motionless on the ground in minus two seconds,” the voice says.\n\nSteve keeps his hand on the doorknob, squeezing it even harder than before.\n\n“Call my bluff if you want to, try me Steve,” the voice continues.\n\nSteve slowly releases the doorknob and faces the voice from behind him. “What do you want, and why are you here, show yourself.”\n\n“Steve, it’s guys like you that give me a bad rep. You stole 80% of the songs that you sing, and you stole them from me. DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” Lucifer appears in his physical form directly in front of Steve. He breathes down on the musician, and sizes him up. “You owe me.”\n\nGenuinely frightened, Steve falls backwards, collapsing against the door.\n\n“Fuck man, what type of sick joke is this?” he whimpers.\n\nLucifer steps away, and walks about Steve’s small but sufficient dressing room. Picking up various items and tossing them aside. “Let’s stop with the bullshitting Steve, you have two options, you can pay me with your soul, obvious choice, or you can pay me with the soul of your first born child.”\n\nSteve never believed in the myth of “selling one’s soul to the devil” but some days he questioned his success, and as he sat before Lucifer himself, he could only wish he’d prepared himself for this day, and even the possibility of such.\n\n“So what’s it going to be, I don’t have all day Steve,” Lucifer shouted, now going through Steve’s wardrobe and tossing aside things he didn’t like.\n\n“Firstborn,” Steve blurted out.\n\n“You selfish prick, but fine, no take backs,” Lucifer teased.\n\nSteve felt confident that he’d made the right decision, in his haste to choose he figured he would never have children. He wasn’t married, and didn’t plan on such, and he was always extra careful to practice safe sex as he’d already declared never wanting to have to pay a woman child support of the likes. The choice seemed harmless enough, no soul to give if no child to take from.\n\n“See you soon Steve,” and with that Lucifer disappeared, leaving Steve still saddled on the floor.\n\nSighing heavily, Steve stood up and made his way to the vanity to calm himself.\n\nLooking down at his phone, he noticed 3 missed calls, and a missed text message from Angela, a girl he’d been seeing down in Texas.\n\nSteve unlocked his phone and checked the text first. All it said was “we need to talk now” followed by emoji baby faces.\n\nSteve blinked, then collapsed back in the chair, sheer panic written across his face." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: The Devil is known by many names(Beelzebub, Lucifer, Satan, etc.). What people don't realize is that they are actually separate beings, all fighting for mortal souls and, ultimately, supremacy over Hell." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The circular, red glowing portal opened back up into the many layers of Hell. Fine black leather broke the plane as Lucifer himself stepped back into the underworld, fresh from a brief trip to the mortal world. Soul collection had lost its novelty, and his trips now felt more like business than pleasure. He stood still. One manicured hand rested on his temple, the other gently cupped his hip overtop the charcoal Versace suit.\n\n\"Jesus Christ. One slip Miley, that's all I need. Maybe I go for your pyrotechnics guy. Maybe the chain on the wrecking ball breaks. One way or another, that soul is going to be mine.\" He paused. \"I've got to think of some kind of punishment involving twerking for eternity...\"\n\nA second portal opened just 10 yards away. The horned, winged monster known as Beelzebub leaped from the other side, clad in nothing but a filthy loincloth. His hooves cracked the brimstone beneath them as he touched down and walked toward the slender suited figure. Through gritted fangs he snarled at Lucifer.\n\n\"You foolish being, wearing those silly rags and acting like a beast. How do you expect to land any serious souls?\" mocked Lucifer.\n\n\"Me the fool? Me! I am the great and powerful Beelzebub!\" bellowed the Hell dweller. \"Empires crumble beneath me and souls are stolen by the thousands!\"\n\n\"Would you shut the Hell up already,\" interrupted Lucifer. Beelzebub's face deteriorated from its state of intimidation to merely a stupor. \"I have had it up to here with your attitude Beelz. You're outdated, crude, and quite frankly not the brightest monk in the monastery. You need to step into the dawn of a new day. What are a thousand worthless souls compared to just one movie star or super model? Do you know what I could do with Bradley Cooper?!?\"\n\n\"How dare you speak to me with such insolence. I shall rain fire down upon you with an army of the dead! My minions will...\"\n\n\"We're in Hell Beelz, it's always raining fire...\" came a voice from the shadows. The grey, cloaked body of Hades glided in between the quarreling immortals. \"And as for you Luci, Bradley might not be the route you want to go down. Try Billy Crystal, I hear he does excellent work with animation.\"\n\nLucifer had reached his last nerve. \"Enough! First of all, I told you not to call me that anymore! Second, I'm sick of sharing Hell with you nitwits. It's time we elect a singular ruler over Hell.\"\n\nThree quick explosions of black smoke appeared as Satan, Iblis, and Ted Cruz joined the debate.\n\n\"We want in on this too,” said Satan, a woman of unparalleled beauty. She radiated with fiery red from her long nails to every curve of her skintight dress. Holding back her long dark hair, she leaned in quietly to the frustrated man in center, “And Luci, I think Bradley would make a great servant.”\n\n“Lucifer is right,” said Ted Cruz. “We should elect a leader in a democratic vote where…”\n\nLucifer interjected, “Teddy, we put you in a race against humans to lead them as the most powerful person in the world and you lost to an oompa loompa with golden hair and tiny hands. I think you should sit this one out.”\n\nOn the verge of tears, Ted Cruz ran off into the depths of Hell seeking the condolences from his collection of deceased politicians.\n\n“There is only one manner in which to settle this quarrel, combat.” Demanded Beelzebub.\n\nWeapons of all form were conjured by the remaining villains, verifying a consensus about what was to come. The group hurled themselves at one another. Pitchforks, tommy guns, and fireballs were aimed at every angle. A cloud of dust built up until only the screams were evidence of the war below. At the silencing of the last cry for help, the dust cloud came to an end as well. Satan held herself up with a fallen pitchfork. Although she was the last of the jinn to survive, she knew the fatal blow to her side would be the end of her. She bowed her head at peace with her fate only to see feet before her. Glancing up, the faces of Richard Nixon, Adolf Hitler, and Genghis Khan were revealed to her. Ted Cruz drove an American flagpole into Satan’s heart and immediately began walking away.\n\nEmotionless, he quietly said to himself, “I’m coming for you Donald.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: You may have seen my previous experiment where we put a single, ordinary person in a room to see how long it takes him to push the electric shock button out of boredom. Now, we are putting two random, ordinary people in a room to see how long it takes them to fuck." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lucas only signed up for this weird experiment for the huge amount of money he was being given, but when he walked into the room where he would be staying and had everything explained to him he realized he was way in over his head.\n\nBasically, the longer he and his partner went without fucking the more money they would earn. He and his partner were never to leave the room until they fucked. They would get 3 meals a day and there was a fully functional bathroom. But that was it. Except for the bathroom all that was in the room was a large bed.\n\nLucas was feeling nervous and didn’t know what to expect from his partner as they hadn’t met yet. Living with a stranger for who knows how long scared him, however he lost all his fears when he saw how beautiful his partner was. Her face was like that of an angel, she was tall, curvy, and had decently sized boobs that he could bury his face in.\n\nWhen the 2 entered the room the lab guys said they would be watching everything and cancel the experiment if anything bad happened.\n\nLucas’s partner walked over to him to introduce herself.\n\n“I’m Cathy, let’s endure this for as long as possible so we can both walk out with a small fortune.”\n\n“I’m Lucas, if we want to maximize our chances of lasting for as long as possible we should avoid contact with each other as much as we can.”\n\nCathy agreed with Lucas but little did the 2 know that this strategy would only work against them.\n\nWhen evening fell on the first day Cathy and Lucas hadn’t talked at all except for their initial greeting. The 2 ate dinner across the room from each other.\n\nAs much as Lucas wanted to get to know Cathy, he knew he would have to hold back for the sake of the money. Cathy used the shower first and changed into ugly pajamas that Lucas couldn’t help but laugh at.\n\n“Come on, at least cut me a little slack for wearing these things. I know they’re horrendous but would have sex with a girl if they were dressed like this.”\n\n“Definitely not”. Lucas replied trying to keep his laughter in check.\n\nCathy found Lucas’s smile cute and on closer inspection realized he was more muscular than he looked. NO!. Cathy screamed at herself in her mind, she can’t think like that in this situation, not if she wanted to last long enough to get a substantial amount of money. Although she did wonder how big…no I’m doing it again, just don’t look at him.\n\nLucas slept on the floor because he had lost a game of rock paper scissors for use of the bed that night.\n\nThis routine went on for about a month with the 2 people spending most of the time apart. The reasearchers watching we’re surprised that they had lasted longer than they expected. If things kept going at this rate the pay for the 2 might go over budget.\n\n“We need to instigate them to be more intimate. Carl, do we have the data we need?”\n\n“Yes head reasearcher, more than enough.”\n\n“Then release the gas, it’s time to see just how much self control these 2 have.”\n\nLater that evening…\n\nLucas noticed a strange smell in the air and saw a slight pinkish hue in the room. Cathy noticed it too and suddenly realized that she was getting wet and strangely aroused. Lucas also became strangely horny and felt his dick get hard.\n\nThe 2 were both sharing the same thoughts, they were being sabotaged by the lab.\n\n“Guess we lasted longer than they expected.” Lucas said jokingly. Not hearing any response he turned around to see Cathy desperately fingering herself. She wanted to cum so badly, having exclusive access to a man like Lucas and not doing anything for a month had left her sexually frustrated. Cathy didn’t care about the money anymore, all she wanted was to cum, but her fingers weren’t doing it for her, she needed more, she needed Lucas.\n\nWhen Lucas saw Cathy fingering herself he was like a deer in headlights. Cathy stopped her fingering and looked over at Lucas who quickly averted his eyes.\n\n“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have looked!”\n\nLucas fully expected to be slapped or beat up but instead Cathy walked over to him and pushed him onto the bed, she pulled down Lucas’s pants and teased the tip of his dick by liking it.\n\n“C-c-Cathy, w-what are you doing, this what they want, remember we’re here for the mon-.”\n\nCathy quickly shut Lucas up by kissing him.\n\n“Don’t fight it, we’ve both wanted this for a while. Don’t think I didn’t catch you stealing glances at my boobs.”\n\nLucas was speechless and realized that as long as he didn’t stick it in her pussy then they technically hadn’t fucked and were still able to make money.\n\n“Okay, we can do this but I can’t be inside you. This way we still haven’t fucked but we can do other things.”\n\nCathy had barely noticed anything Lucas said as she was busy giving Lucas the best tit and blow job of his life as she sucked on the part of his dick sticking out between her breasts.\n\nLucas came in no time and Cathy swallowed it all, however she wasn’t done. She put her pussy on Lucas’s face and began grinding on it.\n\n“It’s time for you to pleasure me, start licking.”\n\nLucas would’ve licked her pussy weather she said to or not. Lucas was surprisingly good with his tounge and he gave Cathy the best orgasm she had felt in a long time.\n\nAfter that Cathy and Lucas fell asleep in each other’s arms.\n\nThe reasearchers were stunned by what they had seen, even with the aphrodisiac the 2 still had not given in and fucked. They were truly worried now that the aphrodisiac didn’t work because after another 2 weeks the pay for the 2 would go over budget.\n\nThe next morning…\n\nLucas woke up before Cathy and went to take his morning shower. When he walked out he was greeted by the sight of Cathy’s naked body. Subconsciously his eyes moved to her breast. Before he could look away Cathy grabbed him and smothered his head with her breasts instantly getting Lucas hard. Before he knew what was happening Cathy had pinned him to the bed and was about to stick his dick in her pussy, though stab wound be the better choice of words here.\n\n“Cathy don’t!” Lucas was helpless to stop Cathy as she lowered herself onto him. Cathy was feeling so good that her pussy was gushing and convulsing. Both Lucas and Cathy lost their minds to the intense pleasure. Cathy wrung Lucas dry. When the 2 we’re dressed the reasearchers came in and presented each of them with 75,000$.\n\nBefore Lucas and Cathy parted ways they traded phone numbers and promised to “hang out” again.\n\nThis is my first time writing something like this so I hope it was good." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Because of one soldier's stupidity, the Colonel punished the entire battalion by ordering them to use finger guns. When peace ended and war came to your country, you were all put on the first assault wave. And no one expected that punishment to still be in effect." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“30 seconds!” The landing craft driver shouted. The loud shouted explosions filled the air. The man standing next to me vomited on the floor covering several of our boots in steaming breakfast.\n\nI breathed deeply and checked my finger. It was still in operating order. Several other guys had checked theirs, Daryl adjusted his invisible rocket launcher on his shoulder. The sounds of shouted pings hitting the boat and the murmured zips of bullets zipped by.\n\n“5 seconds!”\n\nI braved myself as the metal front to our craft fell away leaving us exposed to the machines guns located on the beach ridge. Men started falling down, pieced by the bullets. Tom got clipped in the thigh and fell writhing in pain. I leaned over the side and fell into the water.\n\nThe bodies. They were everywhere. Men just floating there silently.\n\nI worked my way quickly out of the waters and up to the first tank blockade.\n\n“Pow! Pow!” “Bang!” “Pew!” “Boom!”\n\nHell surrounded me as men shouted and bled invisibly. Cries for help and death’s cold relief was carried on the hot wind that blew across the beach. The sun weaved between the clouds and blue sky. It was a beautiful day to experience hell.\n\nI raced forward keeping my finger steady. James was moving up on my left and Steve on my right. Steve got hit in the head and sprawled out on the ground. James and I moved forward further still until we came to a beach wall. I grabbed the grenade from my side and looked over at James who did the same. We both held round object of air in our hands as we used our teeth to pull the pins and spit them back into the air.\n\n“Ready?” “Ready.”\n\nWe tossed them simultaneously while shouting “Grenade!”\n\nThey landed into a small placement on the other side of the beach wall. James and I waited for the explosion when we heard them say “we through them back!”\n\n“What the hell? You can’t throw them back” I said to James. “Hold on”\n\nI stood up as people attempted to shoot me.\n\n“You can’t just pick up the grenade and throw it back! You don’t have the time to do it nor would you have seen them land in the first place!” I shouted down at the guys.\n\nEveryone stopped and a silence fell on the beach.\n\n“Of course we can! We heard you shout ‘grenade’ and we braced ourselves.” Lanky guy #1 responded.\n\n“That’s not how it works,” I responded. “We shouted ‘grenade’ so you’d know how to respond when they went off,” I explained.\n\nLanky Guy #2 pointed at me and said “Bang!”\n\n“No! This is a time out. You can’t just shoot me in a time out!” I shouted. “You guys are dead anyways.”\n\n“What the hell is going on?” Someone shouted from down the beach.\n\n“Someone isn’t dying from a grenade blast!” Another shouted a response.\n\n“Oh for fuck’s sake! Another invincible player who refuses to accept the outcome?” Someone else cried as they’re limp body was tossed about in the waves.\n\n“I know right?!” I shouted over my shoulder.\n\n“Oh come on, man. We’re excited to be here and don’t want to die immediately,” Lanky Guy #1 complained.\n\n“That’s not how this works. You’ve ruined the whole flow of this battle. I’m almost tempted to petition that we need to reset this battle because of it.” I said flatly.\n\nA loud groan filled the air.\n\n“Just die so we can continue the battle!” A machine gunner shouted from the bunker.\n\n“But...”\n\n“Just fucking die!” Everyone shouted.\n\nLanky Guy #2 sighed and threw himself to the right and laid lifeless. Lanky Guy #1 stared at me a moment longer before giving up and throwing himself into a stack of equipment. He proceeded to dramatically die a slow death from a shrapnel wound in his stomach.\n\nSoon, the battle continued and I was soon to come face to face with death." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: All your life you've been told to never go through a red door. You kiss your date good night and turn to leave when they ask you to come in for coffee, holding open their red front door" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was just my luck; the most beautiful girl id ever laid my hands on and yet I had been forbidden to enter her home. Maybe it was all a sign, the red stop light at the intersection that so many refuse to obey and therefore pay for it in a fantastic blaze of fire and smoke, the red blazing alarm telling me to get out of here and never come back couldn’t simply just be ignored by my sexual desires and urges. Twenty years of my life and never a red door in which I passed.\n\n“What’s wrong, you don’t drink coffee? I’m sure we can find you something else”\n\n“No its not that, id love to come in, I really would. It’s just I have a superstition about this red door of yours, I’ve never stepped through one and my parents always told me it was such bad luck and never to do so.”\n\n“What do you mean you’ve never stepped through one? My car is red after all and you stepped through the passenger side door to accept my offer of a ride back to my place.”\n\nI could feel the hole in my throat closing over, the thin bead of sweat starting to form on the back of my neck. She was right, I did step through that door. It all suddenly started to make a lot more sense, every house we passed on the way. Red door after red door, they’d never been so frequent, not like this. Something had changed, something was different. Still I couldn’t shake the feeling of maybe my mind was playing tricks on me and after all this all was just a superstition, a coincidence.\n\n“Well yes I guess you’re right, I never thought about that”\n\n“And so? Stop being so daft and get in here, its cold outside and you can’t stay on my porch all night contemplating this decision”\n\n“No of course not, id much prefer to be in there with you”\n\nI entered and she took my coat and hung it by the door, I couldn’t help but notice the interior of the house. It was all so dated, like it hadn’t been touched in thirty or forty years and had been inherited by an old grandparent. The type that hoards every little thing that holds the slightest flicker of sentimental value. The house gave me a bad feeling, in fact I hadn’t felt good since I entered that car just thirty minutes ago. It was like someone was always watching you from behind. It gave me a very vulnerable feeling and the urge to always look over my shoulder to check nothing actually was there.\n\n“I’m sorry about the house, I know it’s a mess. I just haven’t had the time, work has been so busy this week and I cant seem to find the time. Please take a seat, ill just run to the kitchen and I’ll put the pot on”\n\n“it’s no bother, would you mind if I use your restroom?”\n\n“No not at all its just down the hall to the left, but I must warn you the light bulb popped last night and I haven’t had the time to replace it. Please, take this candle”\n\nI made my way down the hall, passing the black and white photos of relatives on the wall, probably passed and worm food by now of course. I start to think I might not be so different from them sooner rather than later. I entered the bathroom, of course the door creaked and yelled with even the slightest draft. I set the candle down on the basin and turned on the taps to wash my face. The pipes in the walls chugged, rattled and banged through the cardboard walls trying to muster up what was eventually luke warm water. Or so I thought it was, at second glance it was thick, dark and stained my hands in the candle light, it was blood." } ]