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BintangFortuna

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Bintang Fortuna 2

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You have spent your entire ghostly life scaring families out of the house that you died in. It used to be so easy, but the times have changed. People are desensitized to your regular ghostly antics and don’t scare as easily anymore. So when a young couple moves in, you have to be a bit creative" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Patrick woke up in the morning and saw the ceiling. He smiled.\n\nFor the past week now, it had been completely clean. The ghost had initially tried to scare with a dripping bloodstain, the flayed skin of a clown, and a nest of giant centipedes, but it seemed that it had given up.\n\nHe left Jane to sleep and headed to the bathroom.\n\nNo rotting corpses in the mirror, no gelatinous evil in the toothpaste container, and no spiky tentacles coming out of the toilet. This would be a good day.\n\nNext was the kitchen, where he started to make breakfast. When he went for eggs, the refrigerator was clean, freshly stoked, and entirely free of decapitated-yet-screaming heads. The faucet only emitted water, the frying pan didn’t scream as it was warmed, and the cupboards didn’t have any giant spiders.\n\nThe eggs were just about done when Jane came down and started making coffee.\n\nThey worked alongside each other in silence while the sun came up. Eventually, the table was set, and they sat down to eat.\n\n“So, work starts for you today?” Patrick asked.\n\n“Yeah, looking forward to it. The boss seems really cool, and the benefits were a lot better than I was expecting for my level of experience, but gift horses, you know?”\n\nPatrick nodded, letting the cup of coffee warm his hand.\n\nThe doorbell rang.\n\n“I got it,” they both said automatically. Patrick was closer, though, so he was the one who answered.\n\nThere was college-aged dude, about the same age as him, in a white button-up tucked into his black formal pants and a clip-on tie.\n\n“Hi, you guys are the new neighbors, right?” the man said, holding his hand out.\n\n“Uh, yeah,” Patrick replied. He took the hand and gave it an uncertain shake.\n\n“I just wanted to know if you and your spouse had heard the word of God, yet,” the man said, smile pasted onto his face.\n\n“Oh, uh, actually, I mean,” Patrick fumbled, “we’re not married.”\n\nThe man’s smile instantly drained away. “That’s very dangerous, you know. Could get AIDS.”\n\n“Well, we’ve both been tested,” Patrick began.\n\n“Here, this will enlighten you, friend. Make sure the woman reads it, too, she needs it.”\n\n“Hey, hold on,” Patrick started, now pissed off.\n\n“I’ll be back tomorrow morning for your questions.” The man nodded. “Also, your mail box is just overflowing. Might want to check on that.”\n\nAnd then he walked away.\n\nPatrick blinked. Then, with a sense of growing dread, he headed down to the apartment mailroom.\n\nTheir apartment’s box was literally overflowing, it turned out. Letters with ominous official text were sticking out of the box and there was a small pile on the floor.\n\nThe first one he picked up read “Student Loans Collections.”\n\n“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Patrick muttered, piling up as many as he could.\n\n“Jane,” he called as he came back into the apartment, “you monthly loans aren’t due for a few more weeks, right?”\n\n“Yeah, same as your loans. Why?”\n\nPatrick dumped the letters on the floor. Jane picked up one up and began to read.\n\n“OK, this definitely violates the terms somewhere. We can just call them and-”\n\nA phone call shattered the air. It was the landline that had come with the apartment. Patrick automatically picked it up.\n\n“Hello! We understand that you’re part of Congressman Jones’ district and-”\n\nPatrick immediately ended the call. The phone rang again.\n\n“Hello! We understand that you’re part of Congressman Jones’ district and-”\n\nPatrick hung up again. The phone rang.\n\n“Hello! We understand that you’re part of Congressman Jones’ district and-”\n\nJane ripped the cord out of the wall.\n\nPatrick took a deep breath. Then another. Then another. Then another…\n\n“OK, you get to work, I’ll email the loans company and see what they have to say.”\n\nAt that exact moment, they both heard the sound of springs crunching above them and full-throated moans. The two of them looked up at the ceiling, then at their phones.\n\nIt wasn’t 7 yet.\n\n“It’s OK,” Patrick muttered through gritted teeth. “We got this.”\n\nIn the walls, the ghost laughed. They’d be out by the end of the week." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: In a world of heroes, you have the power to absorb change on an object or person after the fact and transfer it to something else or yourself. Heroes, gangs, and organizations all want to use you for your ability." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A young woman sat across from three men. One was tall and ripped, he sported a white tank top with a splash of color. Another thin and wiry, dressed in a suit and tie. The last was short and round, covered in a costume. The gal sipped her tea before she spoke, \"Chaos Control, that's what I call it.\"\n\nRotund tilted his head and tapped his giant chins, \"I've heard of that before... Sonic?\"\n\nShe nodded and added, \"Yep, it is one of Shadow's abilities.\"\n\nMr. Suit scoffed at her, \"You named your power after a video game? What are you, five?\"\n\nShe flashed him a smile with large pearly whites perfectly aligned between two full lips. \"I got my abilities early, really early. So, yes, I was about that age when I named it and the name stuck.\"\n\nColor splash sat forward, \"We have been here for over an hour listening to you flap your gums. I'm getting real tired of hearing your life story. You ever gonna show us this power?\"\n\n\"A demonstration? I suppose I could do that,\" She said. The lady kicked the table with enough force to topple the glasses on it. Liquor and soda splashed across the table at the one in a tank top. Warm coffee rolled toward the suited one. Nothing rolled at the round one, his glass already empty.\n\n\"What the-\" Yelled the ripped guy as he stood up.\n\n\"How dare you?\" Cried the man in an expensive suit.\n\nWhile the third guy watched, the girl reached out and touched. Her fingers ran over the glasses, the liquids, the table. The alcoholic puddle stood still. Coffee now steaming hot no longer moved. The glasses followed her fingertips back into sitting positions on the table. She reached for the one draped in a single splash of color.\n\n\"Oh no, you don't, girlie.\" He said as he stepped away.\n\nThe spherical one laughed, \"Scared of the little lady?\"\n\n\"I fear nothing!\" Growled the man in reply. He held out his hand.\n\nThe woman touched him, and he fell over shivering. Wiry dude adjusted his tie, and asked, \"What happened to him?\"\n\n\"Two things. First, he experienced the force of the kick to the table and the momentum of the glasses falling. Second, the heat is leaving his body like it did to the liquids that had cooled.\"\n\n\"Impressive.\" Murmured the round one.\n\n\"She made him fall and get a little cold. How is that impressive?\"\n\n\"It's not what I did do, but the implications of what I could do that are impressive. Our round friend here can see that, but I guess you need more of an example.\" The woman reached out and touched the nearly boiling coffee on the table. She winced a little, but the steam stopped. Then she touched the man in the suit. His skin flushed red and his body began to convulse as heat coursed through it, while the liquids inside him rose in temperature. She touched the man again and then the coffee, as she had no intention of killing the suit.\n\nMr. Color pulled himself from the ground and looked at her with a new found respect. He moved to his chair and took a seat, \"You did that with a few spilled drinks? I could definitely see a use for you in my... Tribe.\"\n\n\"Gang is the word for which you were looking,\" Scowled the suit as he sat back down in his chair. He shook his head, \"My company would be better suited for you, Miss Veronica.\"\n\nMultiple chins shook as the round one disagreed, \"Your power could be used to help many people, the heroes would be glad to have you.\"\n\nVeronica laughed, \"Do you know what I see when I look at you three and your organizations?\"\n\nNone of the three answered, but they leaned forward, hanging onto her every word. She took a moment to meet the eyes of each man, \"I see chaos. Chaos looking for a little control.\"\n\nr/TheSyXan" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: It was supposed to be just one time you saw wherewolf pup in the snow you brought him in gave him food took care of him and then get let on his way. but then more monster children ended up on your doorstep you kind of regret it but don’t." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What manner of heartless creature, leaves their young to fend for themselves? It is not done. Not in any decent society. Any culture that leaves their young to fend for themselves is a culture that should be annihilated and forgotten, replaced with something better. Abandoning children, that is not done in my culture. Orphans are taken in, the runaways are protected and given better homes, and there will always be a place for foundlings. It doesn't matter why they are lost. We do not leave any of them. Not the weak, not the slow, not the imperfect. There will always be a place in our homes for them. It is in our nature to do such. So when I was out one dark winter morning, hunting elk in the forests, and I heard the mournful cries of a lost creature, I went to investigate immediately. Caught in the cruel trap of incompetent and greedy hunters, I found a wounded whelp. A werewolf pup. Upon seeing me, he was scared. Of course he was, who wouldn't be? Alone, hungry, wounded, cold, and unable to escape as I loom over them? Everyone would be scared. But I simply opened that foul trap, and picked him up, carrying him back to my home in the high hills.\n\nThere I cleaned and bandaged his wounds, fed him, clothed him, and let him sit by the warm fires. His pitiful whimpers turned to calmer sounds of contentment, as he fed for the first time in what might have been many days. For weeks of winter, I would tend to him. Help him recover. I've been a lonely being for quite a while, and it felt good, doing the right thing. I would read so that the pup might fall asleep. I reapplied fresh bandages when needed. And generally, I kept that unlucky pup safe. Gave him a place to winter in peace. Though I would not have minded keeping him around, as werewolves are generally good company, they are wild things, and they do not like to stay within the trappings of civilisation for too long. But he stayed with me, until the spring thaws. And it was good for him. Before, he was a cold, scrawny runt of a werewolf. After my thorough and methodical care, he was healthy, he had recovered the usage of his wounded leg, he looked fine and strong for a werewolf his age. It is of course a curse. But not necessarily one that drives the cursed to madness as people think. It is the shock of becoming one with a wild thing, combined with the fact that your entire village, everyone you love, tries to drive you out or kill you.\n\nThat sort of abandonment and familial betrayal can do terrible things to a werewolf's fragile mind during the early stages of the curse. Luckily, the pup hadn't been abandoned as I feared, merely lost. He was the son of a family of shepherds, and had just gotten stuck in the trap during a blizzard. They had accepted him and his new form after he had accidentally gotten cursed some years before. There was much rejoicing when he returned to his human family, with my good eyes I saw that from away, before happily returning to my home in the mountains. I do wonder if he intends to stay with them, working as their ''sheep dog''. It is a more common occurrence than one thinks. Whatever his future, I wish him good fortune in his life.\n\nStrangely, a few days later, another paranatural child came by my house, exhausted and terribly frightened. A rare child indeed, for there are not many unicorn foals outside the sacred groves any more. Once the foul and wicked kings desired the young unicorns as companions for their inbred royal spawn to enslave. Dark days were those, when bloodthirsty knights, corpulent priests, and depraved nobles were running the world into the ground. It was however a rueful and glorious day when the adult unicorns came charging down from the sacred groves, dread spells upon their hooves, blood upon their horns, and the assistance of many others. These days, there are no more kings, no more nobles. Supposedly, the trade-guilds rule the bigger cities, and peasants can mostly take care of themselves. And the unicorns took their foals home again, sealing the sacred groves forever to all but their closest allies or the most pure of innocents.\n\nI count as neither, but I have respect for them, and this is a lost child upon my doorstep. There is no question as to what I do. I take her inside, I listen to her tale, and I grant her food, rest, and a warm place to sleep. I promise her that she will be safe in my house, where the old rites of sacred hospitality are still observed. While she eats and drinks, I observe with my observance, that she is blessed by the old magicks; were she to pursue the path of sorcery, she would be a great, yet also benevolent force for the world. Seeing such things is but one of the skills I have acquired over my long life. Over the next days I care for her, and show her how to read the few texts I have in my estate, here in the mountains, that covers the arcane arts and their proper usage. As she studies, I leave my house to wander the woods. On my walk, I happen to pass by a ruined caravan. There are wild things in the dark places, and some people think to seek them out. This was a caravan of witches." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: The waiting room to heaven/hell is a long queue to the reception to find out where to go. When it is your turn, you say your name, when the receptionist says, \"I'm sorry, your name isn't in the system.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It had all happened so fast. Will was walking down 22nd with James and Abigail, headed to a New Year's Eve party at a mutual friend's place. As they passed a dimly-lit alley he heard a woman scream; he was already charging down the alleyway by the time his mind had processed the scene. A hooded figure holding a curved dagger high overhead, its gleaming tip aimed directly at a struggling woman's throat.\n\nWill tackled the hooded man as hard as he could, and they tumbled to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Now on top of the hooded figure, Will brought down a clenched fist on the figure's face once, then twice, then there was a blinding flash of white light...\n\nAnd he found himself elsewhere. It was like he had dozed off and had just snapped awake. He was standing, a little dazed, at the entrance to a massive room - its ceilings easily a hundred feet high, if not higher. The entire place was filled with a sort of ethereal glow, originating from no clear source. There were rows and rows of identical low chairs, stretching as far as his eyes could see, some occupied by figures of all shapes and sizes. The occasional uniformed figure roamed the rows, dressed for all the world like a train conductor from a hundred years ago. One saw him and approached.\n\n\"Welcome to the Hall of Weights. Please have a seat. When you hear your name, come to the reception desk at the far end of the Hall.\"\n\nHis voice was at once gentle and authoritative. Almost instinctively, he found the nearest chair and sat down. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but the man shook his head.\n\n\"I cannot answer your questions. You will need to wait until you are called.\"\n\nHe walked off, ignoring his protests. With a frustrated sigh, Will sat back in the chair and took stock of things. Something was definitely off about this place. For one, he noticed that he had changed. The bite scar on the back of his hand, earned from the first time he had tried to pet his dog Dusty (they were on much better terms when Dusty's time was up a few years later); that was gone. His knee, which he had torn during football practice in high school and never healed properly; it didn't creak or ache anymore.\n\nHe peered at the few people seated near him, but none of them paid him any mind. He sighed again, and allowed his mind to wander. So many questions, but no answers until his name was called.\n\nIt felt like an eternity, but also like only a few moments, when he heard the announcement. It felt like it was coming from the inside of his head, rather than through his ears.\n\n\"William 'Will' Young, it is your time. Please come to the reception desk.\"\n\nAs Will stood, it occurred to him that he had no idea where the reception desk might be; almost as quickly, he understood that he needed to head due west. Another thing to ask about.\n\nHe had hardly started to walk when he found himself standing in front of an old wooden desk; it reminded him of the information desk at the downtown library, complete with a keyboard and computer monitor. A woman was seated at the desk, dressed far more casually than the uniformed figures he had seen before. She looked at him expectantly.\n\n\"Will Young?\" she asked, in the voice of someone who'd been going through the same routine for a very long time.\n\n\"Yes, yes that's right,\" he confirmed. \"If you don't mind, I have a few...\"\n\nShe held up a finger to silence him. \"Just a moment, Mr. Young. Let me bring up your file...\"\n\nShe clacked away on the keyboard for a few moments. Her eyes scanned the screen, and she tapped a few more keys. She began to frown and continued to type, and her frown deepend. Finally, she stopped and breathed out a sigh.\n\n\"Mr. Young. I'm sorry, but your name isn't in the system.\"\n\nWhatever he'd been expecting, it certainly wasn't that. Will struggled to find words.\n\n\"I- what do you mean?\" he asked incredulously. \"Now just hold on a minute. I want an explanation. What is this place? What do you mean, I'm not in the system? Where are my friends? When can I go home? Where...\"\n\nShe cut him off.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Mr. Young. I'm going to need to call my supervisor. Please have a seat.\" Her voice lacked any trace of boredom, replaced with uncertainty and nervousness.\n\nHe felt himself compelled to turn around and find a chair, but he forced his feet to stay put. He was starting to feel unusually warm.\n\n\"No, that's not acceptable! I want answers!\" he demanded, raising his voice. He felt a tightness in his chest. \"Where am I? What's happened to me?\"\n\nHe felt a hand on his shoulder, and he whirled around. A man in uniform - Will wasn't sure if it was the same one from before or not - withdrew his hand and spoke.\n\n\"Please have a seat, sir.\"\n\nWill shouted, \"Not until you answer my questions!\" He could feel his anger rising.\n\nAnother figure approached and repeated the command.\n\n\"Sir, you need to have a seat.\"\n\nHe felt the compulsion, but it was like the uniformed man was trying to shout through a hurricane. Will could feel something rising in his chest - anger, but different somehow.\n\n\"You know what? How about YOU have a seat, pal?!\"\n\nTo his amazement, the uniformed men did just that. They turned on their heels, found the first two chairs in the nearest row, and sat down, unmoving.\n\nWill barely had time to process this before another voice sounded behind him. He turned back around, and saw someone new standing behind the receptionist. Unlike the uniformed men, or the casually-dressed receptionist, this person was dressed in robes of pure white. Will couldn't tell if it was a he or a she, but whatever it was, it radiated an unearthly beauty. The sound of its voice immediately calmed the maelstrom raging inside of him.\n\n\"William. Something has happened to you, something most unusual. Please, come with me; I will explain everything.\"\n\nWill looked the newcomer over. \"I want it clear that if you don't answer my questions, I'm leaving. Got it?\"\n\n(Continued)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: One year ago you woke up in a metal room with a fluorescent light. Your only interaction is with a hatch. When the light turns blue, food appears. When purple, the light soon goes off for 8 hours. One day, it turns orange. A secret hatch opens to an identical room. Only this room has a window." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's the same each day. I wake up when the white light turns on. I sit by the hatch until the light turns blue and it opens revealing a plastic bottle of water and tube of flavourless grey paste.\n\nI eat quickly before the light turns red and the sirens start. When I'm done I put the bottle and tube back in the hatch. It closes and the light turns back to white.\n\nThat's my day done. All I have to look forward to is when the light turns yellow and a bucket will appear in the hatch for me to do my business.\n\nNow I just wait out the hours until the light turns to purple and fades out leaving me in darkness.\n\nThis is when I'm allowed to sleep. If I try to sleep before for them the light turns red and the sirens start. They keep on going all day until the light turns purple and I get to rest.\n\nIt's been like this for two weeks now. I went to bed in my small apartment in New Jersey after a night of light drinking with a couple of friends that were up for a visit. I woke up here wearing nothing but a grey medical apron.\n\nThis featureless grey room. All this room has is a hatch and one light panel in the ceiling. I can't force the hatch open nor can I break the light panel. Either action caused the light to change and those god awful sirens to start.\n\nThis day something has changed. As I was waiting for the light to change to yellow after my bland meal the light turned orange.\n\nIt had never done that before.\n\nWhat does it mean?\n\nI frantically looked around.\n\nHas anything changed?\n\nIs there something new in the hatch?\n\nNo.\n\nThe light stayed green. It took a few hours before I noticed the sliver of a gap forming at one of the corners of the room.\n\nIs this an exit?\n\nAfter another hour the gap was large enough for me to squeeze through. I didn't care what was on the other side anything was better than that god forsaken room.\n\nThe gap formed a short corridor. At the end of this corridor was something that made my heart sink. Another room. Another white light.\n\nCompletely the same bar two differences a window currently showing nothing but darkness and a table.\n\nI ran to the the window desperate to see the outside. Nothing all I could see was black. I would've assumed that it was just a sheet of black glass if I could swear that I could make out some kind of shape in the void.\n\nLeaving the window for now I went to the table. Featureless except for two buttons. Each button had a label beneath. One said \"yes\" the other \"no\".\n\nWhat to do. Clearly I was to press one of the buttons. Not wanting to push my luck and wait for the sirens and the red light I pressed \"yes\".\n\nThe window lit up revealing another room. In this room was something I had been longing for ever since the first night in this hell.\n\nA bed. A bed with a duvet. A bed with a pillow. Night after night sleeping in the hard floor had endeared me to the concept of beds more than you could believe.\n\nI wanted that bed. I got it. I hadn't been staring for more than a few seconds before a section of the wall started to lift.\n\nAs soon as I could fit I crawled though the gap and into the room diving on to the bed.\n\nHeaven. So soft. So comfortable. I could stay here forever.\n\nI didn't. The lights turned red and the sirens started. I was startled and fell of the bed. They stopped and the light turned white.\n\nThat hadn't happened before. I stood up and went back to the bed. I placed a hand on it. Nothing. I sat on it. Nothing. I lay on it. The sirens started and the light changed.\n\nI got of the bed. The sirens didn't stop. I turned and tried to leave the room by the gap I had entered by but it was gone. I was trapped, again.\n\nThe sirens didn't stop till the light changed to purple and started to fade. I, still sitting on the bed, went to lie. Life could not be so cruel as to provide a bed and not let me sleep on it.\n\nNo sirens, no red light.\n\nI slept like a baby. Never had a bed been so nice.\n\nWhen the morning came and the light turned in I didn't want to leave. I burried my head in the pillow.\n\n'No no no no!' I thought to myself. The sirens started. I rolled out of bed on to the floor. They stopped.\n\nHad I earned myself a warning?\n\nThe day started the same. Sitting on the bed waiting for the blue light and food. The light came but the food was different.\n\nAlong with the water came a small glass of orange juice and instead of a tub of grey paste there was a bowl of oatmeal with some honey in it.\n\nIt tasted divine. I would have savoured it for hours if I didn't fear the sirens. I'd had my warning today. I might not get another.\n\nThe yellow light came and went.\n\nThen the orange light came again. I looked to the walls for an opening. There it was. The same gap that I had came in through started to appear.\n\nIn an hour or so it was large enough for me to squeeze through. Back into the room with the table. This time there was two windows.\n\nOne back to the room I had come from the other black like before. This time the table had a chair.\n\nI sat down. On the table were the same two buttons marked 726 and 312 . Also on the table was a piece of paper.\n\nThe paper had written on it a few simple math problems. The answer from one needed to answer the next.\n\nIt only took a minute or two to go through the questions and come to the final answer. I didn't have a pen but they easy to do in my head.\n\n726. I pressed the respective button. The black window lit up.\n\nAnother room. One with a bed and an armchair. Sitting on the bed yesterday had been leagues obove the hard floor but that armchair would be infinitely better.\n\nAs before a section of wall opened and I was able to crawl into the new room.\n\nSitting in the armchair I thought to myself that there was clearly a pattern forming. Answer the questions and get a reward. Disobey the rules and suffer the sirens.\n\nThis pattern went on for another week. I had earned myself a room with a bed, armchair, table, chairs, sofa, TV, and a shower.\n\nThe TV was nice but it didn't show a live feed and I was only given a couple of dvds. The shower with it bar of unscented soap was fantastic. Three weeks of without a wash and I was starting to get a pungent.\n\nToday I made mistake. I had gotten complacent. The questions and tests had varied from maths, word questions, to pictorial questions and puzzles. Today the question was simple.\n\n\"Do you want to leave?\"\n\n\"Yes\" or \"No\"\n\nOf course I didn't want to be here! I had been abducted in the middle of the night! Brought to God knows where and forced to do these stupid tests!\n\nI slammed the \"Yes\" button.\n\nThe light turned red. It hadn't done that I a while. The sirens started. The gap I had come from slammed shut. A vent opened in the ceiling and a mist stated to fall to the floor.\n\nIt hurt as a coughed. There was no way out. I slammed on the window to the room I had left. It would break it didn't even shake at my attack.\n\nI passed out.\n\nI was back. Back in the first room. Back with nothing. I ate my grey paste. I waited for the orange light.\n\nToday it didn't come." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You're a Wal-Mart employee who picks up a holiday shift at work. The holiday? The Purge." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jim hated working on holidays. Especially today.\n\n\"Lousy Walmart. Making us work on the Purge is the dumbest idea ever. Gonna get us killed.\" He grumbled under his breath as he shuffled through the automatic doors, irritated from having dodged three hit-and-runs during the trip through the parking lot.\n\nYou would think Walmart was the safest place to be during the Purge. Big, fortified building with lots of supplies and firearms? Hello, paradise.\n\n\"God DAMNIT!\" Jim screamed as he extracted his trusty company-approved box cutter from the jugular of a rampaging customer. \"I am trying to WORK!\" You wanna play Purge, we're gonna play Purge!\" He fetched a tarp from the stack and wrapped up his latest kill, putting the body carefully on the pallet- it may have been Purge day, but he still believed in organization and cleanliness- and respect for the dead. But mostly organization and cleanliness in this case.\n\nHe cheerfully returned to the stack of freight behind him as if nothing had happened...\n\nJim was used to this by now, this night his sixth Purge spent at the store working. It was not every day that you could come to work wearing a helmet and bulletproof vest and not take a trip to the office. He was determined to do his job despite the chaos around him or die trying. Which was probably going to be the case.\n\nThe day dragged on as Jim fought valiantly to stock his carts of canned goods- he felt good about only losing a few cases to looters before lunch. Homicidal grandmothers with razor blade bull bars on their scooters? His complimentary barricades and barbed wire from the personnel office held strong. Guy steals a gun from sporting goods and goes shooting? Shoot back- it's the Purge!\n\nSometimes Jim wondered if he was actually enjoying the chaos or just trying to survive the day. Sometimes he felt guilty about contributing to the hellstorm that was Walmart on Purge day, whether that be directly or indirectly.\n\nEven spill cleanup took a backseat to the Purge. Late in the afternoon, Jim noticed that one of the looters he had chased off had left him a present- blood!\n\nNo paper towels in sight. No PPE. The floor scrubber had been broken since last week, and the only maintenance guy on duty that night was currently nailed to a telephone pole outside. And nobody to guard the spill. He couldn't just stand there, but he was taught never to leave a spill unattended.\n\nHe noticed a customer lurching toward the aisle, headed straight for the spill like a deer on the highway.\n\n\"Excuse me, m'am, but there's a spill here. You'll need to go around to the other side, or I can get you what you need if you'll just stay right there.\"\n\n\"Oh, I just need a can of tomato paste. I'll be real careful, honey.\"\n\nShe tiptoed through the pool of blood, Jim biting his nails as she so gracefully waded through a sea of people juice to get her tomato paste. So brave!\n\nThen she lost her footing. Her last words would be a simple, \"Ooh!\" as she tumbled headfirst into the pool of blood, breaking her neck.\n\n\"Aww, fuck.\" Jim said with a blank face.\n\nEven for the Purge, he felt like this was over the line. She didn't even try to commit a crime- no gun or anything on her. Just a kind old woman who wanted some damned tomato paste and gave her life for it. And it was Jim's fault.\n\nHe treated this one with more dignity than the rest of the pile. He didn't even take a $20 off of her personal effects like the rest of them. He did look in her purse, however. Just to see what her name was.\n\nHe read the driver's license. \"Florence...\" He muttered, squinting. How the hell did she read the small print on this thing?\n\nHe had killed at least 40 people during his shift. No matter how he rationalized it, it was still murder even if it was legal for that day. Even if he was defending himself. He had two pallets stacked with bodies- amateur numbers compared to some of his coworkers. But this one had a face, a name. A family.\n\nHe was going to survive the night. He was going to survive it and make sure Florence's name was never forgotten.\n\nJim reloaded his shotgun and put a fresh blade in his box cutter, returning to the canned vegetables- this time with a determined smile on his face." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Abraham: \"No, I will not sacrifice my son. I refuse to worship a God who asks for the death of children\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "God folds blue feathered wings into his back as he lands at the feet of Abraham. Taking the form of a Kingfisher he looks up at his creation.\n\n\"Abraham you are lucky to even speak with me, most of my children will not know my presence before death\" the voice of God floats up from the small birds body, ringing through Abrahams ears.\n\nScoffing at the insinuation Abraham retorts \"Lucky? You consider me lucky to face the beast that orders the sacrifice of my own child?\"\n\nGod tilts his head to one side, black beaded eyes staring up at the man he created. \"Abraham I am no beast, I love you and I love your child and I know that you love me\"\n\nRage seething through his body, Abraham kicks at the Kingfisher\n\n\"I loved you always, and this is my reward? I pray, I worship, I live my life in keeping with your doctrines and you see fit to take my child from me?!\"\n\nDust circles on the ground, God narrowly avoids the kick and takes flight into the sky.\n\n\"How can I worship you now? How can I love my creator if he thinks it is good and proper to take my boy from me\" Abraham yells up at the Kingfisher gliding serenely in the sky.\n\nGod circles Abraham before landing on a nearby rock. The delicate body of the Kingfisher begins to mould and morph, feathers turn to scales as God assumes the form of a snake. The serpent slithers towards Abraham who steps back in fear.\n\n\"Be calm now Abraham, I mean you no harm\" The snakes tongue hisses as God speaks. \"It hurts me to tell you what I must tell you my child, but your boy will perish and that is simply the way of things\" The snake coils up on itself, wrapping tightly into a ball.\n\nAbraham is silent in stunned confusion.\n\nGod continues \"Know that other men will lose a son, a family, or even their own lives. Know that wealth and livelihoods will be stripped from many of my children and none of them will hear from me directly to explain why. It will just happen\".\n\n\"And that is supposed to bring me comfort?\" Sneers Abraham. \"You expect me to love and worship the beast that tortures his own creations?\"\n\n\"Abraham I am no beast\" Gods voice booms loudly as the snake transforms into that of an Ox, growing large and looming over Abraham.\n\n\"Then what are you? You are not my God, your are not my loving creator if this is the world of your design\" Abraham shouts up at the Ox's nostrils, feeling no fear towards the powerful animal before him.\n\nThe Ox stares back impassively. \"Abraham I am life itself\" The Ox begins to shrink smaller and smaller, horns retracting into it's body, God now takes the form of a fish, gasping on the ground without water to swim in.\n\nAbraham quickly scoops up the body of God, carrying it gently to a nearby steam and depositing it in the cool flowing water.\n\n\"Thankyou my child, you are as caring as always, even through your rage\" God swims elegantly in circles.\n\nAbraham breaks down in tears \"Then why must it be this way, why must we suffer, can you not end this misery with ease?\" He is pleading with God now.\n\n\"Life must be filled with misery my child, without suffering there can be no joy. I take from you your boy, I order it as a sacrifice, not to satisfy my desires, but to allow the eternal kingdom of heaven to exist\". God speaks softly now.\n\n\"Abraham I do not expect you to understand this now, not in this life on earth, but one day in heaven you will be with your child again. This pain is a part of life, it is a part of you, a part of me. What I need from you is to continue loving me anyway. To persevere through this rage and sorrow and to continue loving. If the hatred consumes you then you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Scientists create a machine to figure out the future of humanity. The first question they ask it is when the world will end. It spits out three dates. The first is in the past, the second far in the future, and the third is tomorrow." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "9/13/2044\n\n\"James you need to see this.\" Mark May, chief architect of the 'Tomorrow' project stared at the screen. His heart hammered in his chest as his partner lazed over to his side of the desk.\n\n\"What's up?\" he asked, \"Something weird?\"\n\nMark pointed and stepped back.\n\nJames Taylor, the visionary behind the project, leaned in. The screen had three dates on it.\n\n10/24/1962\n\n03/4/5029\n\n9/14/2044\n\n\"What did you ask it?\" James inquired, trying to draw a link between the three\n\n\"Remember before we finished the project, how we joked that we should ask it when the world would end?\"\n\nJames recoiled.\n\nMark pointed at the screen again.\n\n\"You recognize the first date?\"\n\nJames cocked his head and thought.\n\n\"Sixty two... Cuban missile crisis?\"\n\nMark nodded and continued.\n\n\"And obviously we have no idea what will be going on three thousand years from now.\"\n\nJames nodded.\n\n\"So why is tomorrow's date up there?\"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"Mark...\"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"Mark do you have any idea what this means?\"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"No one can know about this, Mark.\"\n\nJames started wiping the memory on the machine.\n\n\"James...\"\n\n\"No! Mark! No one can know! It will start a panic!\"\n\nJames worked faster.\n\n\"James...\" Mark croaked, \"It already told them.\"\n\nJames whipped around.\n\n\"What?!\"\n\n\"I tried to stop it, James... I really did. But you know the answers were going to be transmitted automatically to everyone. That was the only way we could get the funding...\"\n\nJames put his head in his hands.\n\n\"Mark... do you know what this means?\"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"Every world leader is going to receive information telling them the world will end tomorrow.\"\n\nJames stood quickly.\n\n\"Maybe if we call everyone, tell them it was a glitch in the system.... with the past date they might buy it... obviously the world didn't end in '62...\"\n\nMark sat in his chair, staring at the screen.\n\nJames continued pacing and muttering to himself.\n\n\"Okay, Mark. Here's what we'll do....\" he trailed off as the lights flickered.\n\nA deep rumble shook the ground.\n\nJames looked at the lights uncertainly.\n\n\"Mark we need more information. Fire up Tomorrow.\"\n\nMark didnt react.\n\n\"Mark!\"\n\nHe jumped.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Fire up Tomorrow. We're going to stop this.\"\n\nJames set the station to receive another query.\n\n\"Ready?\" He looked at Mark.\n\nMark finished typing and nodded, looking back at James.\n\n\"Tomorrow, we have a query for you.\" James said, looking up at the machine before him.\n\n\"Proceed with your query, James.\"\n\n\"Previous query resulted in statement that the world would end tomorrow. We would like to know how.\"\n\n\"Very well.\" Tomorrow replied. \"Processing.\"\n\nThe two anxiously watched the screen, waiting for the answer.\n\nThe lights went out. James checked the time. 11:58PM\n\nThe screen remained lit.\n\nThe air circulation stopped. Security doors dropped.\n\nThe screen remained lit.\n\nJames and Mark glanced around, then at each other.\n\nThe Earth shook above them, dust falling from the ceiling.\n\nOutside, the bunker doors slid shut.\n\nJames checked the time. 11:59PM.\n\nDistant deep rumblings were felt.\n\nJames and Mark looked at each other, then to the screen.\n\n12:00AM.\n\nThe screen changed, with one word displayed.\n\n\"Me.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: All life has died in the apocalypse, except for you, cursed with immortality. You've spent 30,000 years wandering Earth's rocky, barren surface with nothing but your loneliness and a crank powered cassette player to keep you company when you come across a single green leaf." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I leaned down to touch the leaf with the sensitive synthskin tip of my finger, and felt a shudder run down the bundled nanotubes of my spine.\n\n\"No. No no no. No, it can't be, it mustn't be.\"\n\nI crushed the leaf in my grip, but of course that would not be enough. I put it in my mouth, ground it between the shaped diamonds of my teeth. Then I realized, and shuddered again, spitting the green leafy pulp out into an aluminum can, staring at it.\n\nEvery neuron of my cortex, kept in careful isolation by the quarantine-protocols installed in my skull, seemed to fire with fear. My full consciousness sputtered into life, artificial synapses allowing free communication between the last remnants of my biological self. It was like waking up from a long, vaguely unsettling dream, into the deeply upsetting reality that gripped the planet.\n\nI scrambled in my pack for the blowtorch, but all its iron and steel components had rusted away.\n\n\"Damn it,\" I said in my croak, unused voice. \"Damn it all, damn myself for wanting to drift half-dreaming through my responsibilities.\"\n\nI'd had to do it, though. I woudn't have been able to take full consciousness for so long. I'd have been less than useless after a time.\n\nI salvaged what components I could, trying to get enough together for a flame. I'd pull the thing out by the roots. I'd—\n\nAnd then it started to hit me, as more and more of me woke fully. The chances that I'd run into the only living thing on the whole planet were ludicrously small. I could burn it out, but so what? And then a worse realization, what the rust on my blowtorch really meant.\n\nOxygen. There was oxygen in the atmosphere again. Enough to cause that much rust over a few thousand years.\n\nI went to my knees. Then I went for my comfort. The cassette player. I took the big machine reverently from my pack, made sure the thick optical tape was properly set. I began to crank, and the reader-light shone faintly, causing a thrum of magnetics as the speaker crackled.\n\n\"Custodian Yan. You are the last hope of we, the Stored Ones. We cannot be sure, but we estimate it will take one hundred thousand years before the spacetime waveforms are fully separate again. Then life might be free of its constant corruptions. Then we might all be placed back into bodies and be free. This was given to remind you, and to keep you company. We have included five thousand of your favorite songs, and a number of original radio plays. Remember. You are the last hope, the final living thing. You must stay the last, until it is safe for our world to bloom again.\"\n\nIt was not. I knew the count of years, but I did not need to, I could feel it wasn't safe. I could feel how my own surviving cells threw themselves against their confines, wanting to spread, wanting to touch, wanting to corrupt. I knew what they might become were they let out. I had seen the Touched Things kill nearly everyone I loved before the rest were Stored and went away, before the Scorching took away all life, all but me, up in orbit being reborn into something new.\n\nAt least it was only a plant I had seen so far. At least there was that. Their cells were already confined in their rounded-off cellulose cartons. They did not move easily. They may be Touched but had done no harm over the last few millennia. Or I would know. Surely I would know.\n\nSomehow seeds had been missed, that must be all. Deep in the earth. Perhaps some slow tectonic motion had offered them up to water and sun. Sure. This could be corrected. I would find a way.\n\nThen I saw the mound. Pulsing, pushing at the earth. Small, but not alone. Many mounds. All around where the roots must be.\n\n\"No,\" I whispered, and knew the word had no worth. \"Please let the Touch be gone. Let our world regain her solitude. Please.\"\n\nBut no one heard, and when the towering tendrils burst from the earth, I thought I could hear the Stored Ones screaming.\n\nr/Magleby for more stories." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Rule 12 of the Official Evil Villain Rulebook™ states that \"One of my advisors will be an average five-year-old child. Any flaws in my plan that they spot will be corrected.\" You, as the local villain you decide to do just that. It soon turns out your plans have quite a few flaws in them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“…and, following Mission Eagle, four teams of eight bombers will be released. They’ll leave from California, Florida, Texas, and New York. Each airplane will be armed with eight nuclear warheads. The pilots are briefed on which countries to nuke and where. Men and women, by the end of the day, half of the planet will be ash, with the other half poisoned beyond livable standards.” The Night looks to his gang, smiling his crooked smile. “Questions?”\n\n“What is the goal?” Tommy says as he builds his Lego Harry Potter set.\n\nNight blinks.\n\n“Well, Tommy, it is what we have just been discussing. The men will drop nukes on dozens of countries. Whole cities will be leveled.”\n\nTommy snaps together bricks for the Hogwarts bridge.\n\n“Yeah…” Tommy says. “But, like, what are they doing? Why?”\n\nSeveral heads turn to Night.\n\n“Oh.” His eyes flit about. “Gotcha, I’m picking up what you’re putting down.”\n\n“Revenge!” Razor Woman says, blood still dripping from her fangs as she skins her last kill.\n\n“Now, now.” Night says. “Revenge is a big part of it, but not the whole shebang. The world must acknowledge how it has wronged us. How it has wronged everyone. We are doing this for the common minority. We are fighting discrimination.”\n\n“By killing everyone? And making the rest of the planet unlivable?” Tommy asks.\n\n“Son, they may be trying to do the same thing to us.” Night says.\n\n“My mommy wouldn’t kill the spider in my bedroom based on that same logic. I was scared the spider would burrow into my eyes while I slept. Mommy made me name him, and assured me Edgar would never burrow into my eyes. He just eats bugs. How do you know these countries with millions don’t want to just eat bugs and mind their own business?” Tommy exchanges Dumbledores’ head with Hermione and laughs.\n\n“A good point, good lad.” Night says. “This is why we pay you the big bucks. So, what then? Who should we nuke? What would you suggest?”\n\nTommy thinks.\n\n“I just don’t understand what we are trying to achieve. Are we just trying to hurt people? Why does this group exist?” Tommy says.\n\n“They made this group!” Razor Woman says. “They made us who we are. I was just like you, boy, year after year, until the entire system chewed me up and spat me out. When the entire world looks at you and tells you you’re a piece of shit, that you’re dirt, that you are less than an ant I casually step on… you start believing them. You start wanting to prove them right. Well, fuck them. Let’s prove them right. Let’s prove to them that we are exactly what they think we are. Let’s nuke their bitch asses.”\n\nTommy remembers the countless times he was bullied. His eyes catch the scar that was branded into his left wrist, the letters of the word freak still visible from last summer.\n\n“Okay.” Tommy says. “I have no more questions.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: My family can remember their past lives, so one day I told my son I was a girl who was murdered. He grinned and said \"What are the odds we'd meet again?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was tucking in little Peter for bed when it happened. \"Mommy, can you tell me a story before bed?\" I smiled at him. \"Well, my dear, why don't I tell you about one of my past lives?\" He nodded, smiling up at me with his deep black eyes, which have always looked strangely familiar. \"The year is 1892, March 10th. My name was Ethel Donelly. I was 20, and I lived in a large house. We were a fairly wealthy family and lived in a somewhat rural area. My father at the time was a cruel man, who would strike my mother and I for the smallest misbehaviors. His name was Cole, which was an odd name, but he was greatly respected, as he was the wealthiest man for hundreds of acres. No one dared question him. A year before, my father had sent a boy by the name of George to our home, in order to betroth us. George came from an equally rich family and owned quite a bit of land as well, and was 22.\" At this point, Peter was smiling eagerly and I was a bit confused. What was so exciting? But I continued. \"Now, in front of my father, he always appeared delightful and charming, but whenever I tried to talk to him, he was cold and distant. I often noticed a creepy red gleam in his dark, black eye, like he was planning something awful, and it scared me. While I didn't like him, my father forced me to conceive a child with him, though I certainly wasn't happy about it. I spent the next few months in a painful pregnancy which he paid little notice of, always muttering to himself and wandering about the house with his little notebook.\" Peter interrupted. \"But he was rich, right? It can't have been that bad.\" I was shocked. \"My goodness, Peter! That's horrible. One of the worst things you can do to someone is take away their right to free will.\" To my dismay, he just rolled my eyes. I was troubled but decided to continue with my story, staring into his deep, voided eyes. \"When the baby was born, we named it Peter, just like you. While he had been conceived not out of willpower but of force and false pretenses, I loved him nearly so much as I love you. I pampered him with gifts and the most delightful delicacies, while George watched from afar.\" Peter interrupted yet again. \"Did he still write in the notebook as you said earlier?\" I nodded. \"Yes, and that's an important part of the story. After a few months, I couldn't stand it anymore. I didn't like him much, but whenever I did try to converse with him, he'd wave me off. When he went to sleep, I snuck around to his chest of clothes and did the lock with a key I had found earlier and kept for the right opportunity. I took out the small book and began reading. His entries were horrifying! People who he planned to kill, and the gruesome ways he would carry out those plans. I couldn't take it anymore when I saw myself. He had sketched my perfect likeness, yet with my head severed and a knife lying beside it. I was terrified. I placed it back and as I did so, I felt cold, sharp metal. I nearly screamed, but I didn't. He had the knife with him the whole time!\" Peter was nodding. \"Then what? Then what?\" I was rather uneasy by now. I considered calling his dad into the room, but I assured myself it was just my imagination. \"I quickly and stealthily threw on a layer of overgarments and wrapped up baby Peter. I crept down the stairs until I was finally outside. Then, I ran. I ran out into the large meadow, kicking off my high heels. I ran and ran until I eventually saw him in the distance. I had to hide Peter. I found a hole in a tree and carefully placed him inside. I kept running and running for miles. I paused for a moment, to look back at the house. That was my fatal mistake. In one quick movement, I found my soul rising above my body, looking into the face of the dark-eyed man. The last words I heard in that life were \"Goodbye, Ethel.\" Peter was staring at my intently, his familiarly cold, creepy eyes looking up at me. \"And now we meet again,\" he said. I screamed, but it was too late. He pulled it from under his pillow. \"Now that you've confessed, we're even. Goodbye, Ethel.\"\n\n\n\n\nP.S. This is the first time I've submitted a writing prompt so if you see this, please don't be too mean. I know there are some flaws, and I'm willing to see some constructive criticism. I've never written anything this dark before." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Write High Fantasy with completely mundane names!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What's in a name? An identity, given to us at birth. A word to indicate the target of a sentence. Communication. That's what you'd be used to, if you didn't live in a world with magic. But in this world - in our world - a person's True Name is everything. A True Name captures the essence of a person's existence. To hold another's True Name is to control their every thought, every action.\n\nOf course, for the truly great archmages of our time, guarding your True Name was of paramount importance. If it would fall into the hands of your enemies, you would be undone. Your magic would be as impotent as a brick. What's more, you'd have no choice but to obey whoever spoke it.\n\nWhen the Great Evil Magician rose to power, he made preparations. Knowing his only true vulnerability, he made great effort to have his True Name erased from all birth records and all living memory. There was a scouring. Hundreds of thousands died to his magic, entire cities erased over night. So prepared, he set about to conquer the world. His magic was greater than all others. None could stop him.\n\nThe threads of fate are unknown even to one so powerful as the Great Evil Magician. There is an order to the world, a structure by which it may make sense. A balance. Thus, in the decades it took for the Great Evil Magician to cement his power, a child was born. A Chosen One. One with a destiny to overthrow the Great Evil Magician and then rule the lands fairly as a King. Heck, if you were to investigate every detail of this story there might even have been an inherited Sword of Power somewhere.\n\nBut you're not here for the whole story. So we'll skip over the mad escape from the temple of Twin Gargoyles, or how our hero met the love of his life in a tavern in a flute competition, or the wise old men who tutored him into becoming a warrior of good. You're not here for the long war of resistance that was mounted by the many heroes of the land, united under the banner of the Chosen One. No, what you're here for is the end of the story.\n\nAnd it was glorious. Atop the darkest tower the Great Evil Magician had raised, the Chosen One finally managed to corner the Great Evil Magician and force him into a fight. Under the stormy skies with lightning crackling, they dueled. With swords and magic, with willpower and destinies they clashed. There may even have been dragons fighting in the background, if you wanted some embellishment. Perhaps underneath the tower armies were engaged in brutal melee, sacrificing hundreds of men for every inch of ground lost or won.\n\nBut on the top of the darkest tower, the Great Evil Magician could not be undone. His magic was simply too powerful, his bond to the dark powers impenetrable. Thus, he wounded the Chosen One with a sword slash across his face. The kind of wound that would grow to be an epic scar for the sequel, if our Chosen One were to survive. There, powerless before the Great Evil Magician, our Chosen one decided to gamble all.\n\n\"I know your True Name\", spoke the Chosen One. The Great Evil Magician laughed. \"Impossible! I had it erased from every record, I killed all who knew it. I even killed my own parents!\" Then he cackled madly, as was appropriate for the setting.\n\n\"It is... James!\" spoke the Chosen One as thunder crackled and whipped the night. \"No, it isn't\", said the Great Evil Magician.\n\n\"It is... Robert!\" spoke the Chosen One as dragonfire bathed the base of the tower. \"No, it isn't\", said the Great Evil Magician.\n\n\"It is... John!\" spoke the Chosen One as threads of fates were being woven even as they stared at each other. \"No, it isn't\", said the Great Evil Magician.\n\n\"It is... Michael!\" spoke the Chosen One as historians, looking back at this moment from the future, wetted their pens in ink. \"Are you just guessing?\" asked the Great Evil Magician.\n\n\"It is... William!\" spoke the Chosen One and for a moment all seemed tranquil in the eye of the storm. \"AAAaaaargh!\", yelled the Great Evil Magician in agony, as his powers were taken from him and he was reduced to a small man, at the whim of the Chosen One's command. The secret of his True Name had been found.\n\nThe Chosen One, cradling his wounded face in his hand, managed to rise to his legs and loomed over the Great Evil Magician - or rather, what was left of the greatest evil in this age. And it was not much that was left of him, I'll tell you that. \"H-how did you know...\" managed the not-so-very-Great-any-longer Evil Magician.\n\n\"Honestly, I have about seven friends named William. It is a very common name.\" With that the truth was explained at last, the Chosen One chopped the head off his victim and the kingdom was ruled in relative peace for a while. Until the sequel." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: The demon slides the plate helmet over their head, hiding the last inches of their unnaturally colorful skin behind a mask of steel. It's always been their dream to become a paladin for the god of light; Now's their chance to root out evil- TRUE evil." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The clanging of metal steps filled the corridors of the White Mausoleum as a lonesome knight roamed them. The flawless steel armor that surrounded her body bounced the few rays of light that the moon provided, covering her entire body in an unbreakable, shiny carapace and hiding her true identity. As she traveled through the gargantuan building, another set of softer and graceful footsteps echoed. Before long, her path collided with a senile, old man wearing a tall pointed hat and a bundle of pristine white clothing. At the sight of the paladin, he jumped in place, before realizing who his new companion was.\n\n“By Albus’ light” He let out in his tranquil voice. “You scared me, sister Lillith.”\n\nThe knight bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Archbishop Abaddon. I didn’t think I would find anyone else wandering His holy house this late into the night.”\n\nThe elder man let out a nervous chuckle. “That’s quite alright.” He comforted. “You needn’t apologize for my mistake.”\n\n“Might I escort you to your quarters, Archbishop?” The look on the man’s face was as stoic as ever, but even then, Lillith could sense a most subtle change in demeanor. His stance, the light drop of sweat that began forming at the top of his forehead, the smell of a guilty man that reached her inhuman nose was telling a story that he did not want to tell.\n\n“That… won’t be necessary, Lillith.” He assured. “I truly doubt there are any evildoers who would want to harm me in the middle of our beloved church.”\n\n“I insist.” As the two words left her mouth, the Archbishop realized there was no escaping her company. With no logical reason to deny her help, he surrendered and told Lillith she could follow him to his room if it would help ease her doubts. In silence, they both made their way through the white and golden hallways towards the west wing of the infamous White Citadel. The walls were filled with paintings depicting various events throughout history, some bloodier than others, causing Lillith to stare at the works of art quite intently.\n\n“Archbishop…” She broke the silence. “If I may, what made you stay up so late at night?”\n\nThe man raised an eyebrow towards her. “Oh, you know…” He stuttered. “The God of Light’s work is never truly over, I must have lost track of time whilst I devoted my efforts to him.”\n\nShe smiled under her helmet. “You must be quite dedicated, Archbishop. I’ve recently heard you have been taking more and more sleepless nights in his name.”\n\n“It is the least I can do.” He admitted. “After all the blessings we have received from him, sacrificing my shuteye sounds like a small sacrifice.” Once he finished his sentence, a tall, marble door appeared at the end of a small hallway to their right, indicating the end of their quest. The Archbishop pulled out a diamond encrusted key from his pocket, fiddling with it for a second before the click of the lock announced the door’s opening. Before he could say his parting words to the accompanying knight, he felt a great force push him inside of the room and a hand covering his mouth, preventing him from shouting for help. The door quickly shut behind him.\n\nOnce the hand was removed from his lips, he yelled at his unknown assailant.\n\n“Have you any idea who you are messing with?!” He screamed, realizing that the attacker wore the same armor of the knight who had escorted him there. “Lillith?! What is the meaning of this?!”\n\n“Oh Archbishop…” she said, mocking him, removing her helmet to show her dark blue skin and shaved off horns atop her head. “You are a smart man, aren’t you? Surely you can figure out why you are in this situation.”\n\n“I knew there was something wrong with you from the moment that blasted Ignis took you into our citadel… I knew you were a traitor from the first day!”\n\n“Right! So that’s why you let me guide you all the way to your bedchamber” Lillith barked at him. “Surely you were planning to take me down once and for all, weren’t you?” Abaddon laid on the floor in silence, feeling the weight of the vial in his innermost pocket. “Or could it be… that you were planning something else? Perhaps use that little flask of Morpheus’ Dream that you hold so close to your person? Like what you did to Erika…”\n\n“It is purely medicinal, you wench!”\n\n“Don’t lie to me, snake!” She yelled as she pulled out her mithril sword from its sheath. “Now… I’m a merciful demon. If you can prove yourself useful, I may just let you live…”\n\n“As if I would ever help one of the Night Children! I have my god’s love on my side, I do not fear death!” A swift strike removed his hand clean off. Shock entered his body through the wound causing him to kneel over his new lacking extremity.\n\n“First question… What lies beneath the Speaker’s chambers?”\n\nThe man kept screaming in pain, clutching his wrist as waves of crimson spilled to the floor.\n\n“Answer me before I cut the other one!”\n\n“I don’t know!” He cried out. “I don’t know they don’t let us Archbishops go down there! Only the Speaker and his inner circle know… Please… No more of this.”\n\nShe knew he was not lying but still felt unsatisfied with the response. “Second question… Who is the Chained God?”\n\n“Isn’t it obvious?!” He began. “Your kind should know that the gods don’t give out their power for free! So Speaker Suman had to make a choice… he chose humanity!” As the words left his mouth, an expression of terror filled his eyes. “I’ve said too much…” He got on his knees and placed his head on the floor. “Forgive me Speaker for I have sinned against my brothers and against my order… I believe in the light as the light believes in me… I believe in the light as the light believes in me…”\n\nLillith stared in confusion as the archbishop prayed. “We’re not finished yet… How many of you know about the Chained God?” The man did not cease his prayer. “I asked you a question, snake! Answer me before I do something we both don’t want to happen.”\n\n“I believe in the light and the light believes in me!” He yelled, his eyes losing any color and beginning to shine brightly with an ethereal light. Lillith quickly made her way to the door as the glow increased, filling the entire room in no time. Just before she could get to a safe distance, a thunderous explosion filled the archbishop’s bedroom, sending the armored knight flying through the air, and alerting every single resident of the White Citadel. Her first instinct was to cover her head once more with her helmet. As she got to her feet, a stinging pain filled her leg.\n\n“Shit… shit!” She whispered. “Now is not the time to be broken, you asshole!” Lillith began limping her way out of the scene, bearing more questions inside of her mind than the ones she had prior to her encounter. For now, she was satisfied with escaping with her life." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A man in a park realizes what he left at home" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Eugene didn’t go to the park often, despite the fact that it was one of the few places left where he found peace. After the war, he’d never fully readjusted to normal life. He felt like no matter where he was, he couldn’t blend in. At work, it took all of his effort to pretend like he was concerned about the company’s goals and exerting his best effort, but in truth, he was only there to keep himself busy. In social settings, he never knew what to say or how to pretend like he was interested. At first he truly wanted to be engaged in the conversation, but over time he realized, he had changed, and there was no point in pretending to be someone he wasn’t. That why he liked the park. He didn’t have to participate in anything. He could just watch in silence.\n\nOne particular Sunday, after finishing lunch at a new restaurant, he was feeling rather pleasant. To take advantage of the unusual feeling, he thought he’d visit the park and truly make it the first good day he’d had in years. Despite this good feeling, there was something that just felt off about the day. He felt like he’d forgotten something, like something was missing, but at the same time he felt whole. It was an odd sensation, but he wasn’t about to let it overtake his happiness.\n\nWhen he arrived at the park, he realized just how much energy he had. While he would normally sit, he decided to continue walking. He would just walk and think. It was a sunny day but, the weather wasn’t hot. Autumn would was just around the corner, and its blue skies has arrived early. He thought about all kinds of things: about a book he’d read as a child, about a vacation he went on with his girlfriend before the war, about his father’s old bar where he’d work summers, and even about the existence of aliens and god. His contemplation was interrupted by a Frisbee that nearly clipped his shoulder. A couple of young guys yelled some words of apology and asked if he’d mind throwing it back. He didn’t mind. Then they asked him to throw it with them for a while, and he did.\n\nIt wasn’t till he was about to leave the park that something struck him, causing him to freeze where he stood. He hadn’t thought about war all day. He hadn’t thought about how he wasn’t able to get through a good book since he had returned, about how his girlfriend had left him for another man while he was deployed, about how he spent most of his time drinking alone, or about how he’d condemned every god and every religion. Not only that, but he’d interacted with people all day without feeling awkward, and not a single person had stared at his prosthetic leg. His prosthetic leg! He looked down to see only one foot resting on the ground. Where prosthetic leg should have been was nothing. But how? He’d walked around all day. He’d even played Frisbee!\n\nHe hopped over to the nearest bench and sat down. He didn’t know how, but he knew somehow he was given a leg for the day. Hell, he was given a normal life for the day. He didn’t know if it were god or gods or aliens or magic or the banana peel resting on the ground in front of him, but he knew it had really happened. His eyes watered, and he began laughing as he took out his cellphone to call his daughter to come pick him up. He paused for a second before pressing send to practice what he’d tell her.\n\n“I was magically given a leg for the day, and then it magically disappeared. Nope. I walked to the park and realized I left my prosthetic leg at home. Not much better. Either way you’re going to have to come up with a damn good excuse as to why you’re not yet ready to go to the old folks home,” he said, and pressed send." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: Humanity's first ever interstellar survey vessel finds itself in the middle of a battle by two fleets of several dozen tiny starships each. Turns out that humans are basically Titans compared to other species and they just stumbled upon the galaxy's two biggest fleets having a climactic battle." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I coughed violently as the G-forces released their crushing grasp on my chest, expelling the breath I held before the FTL jump commenced. The ship began decelerating to a millionth of the speed of light and my fellow crew members completed their own respective coughing fits.\n\nThe ship AI reported that we have arrived within an astronomical unit from the target Goldilocks planet and that approach would take place after diagnostics of the current ship status was completed.\n\nI breathed a sigh of relief: there was always a 4.2% chance of catastrophic failure or warp drive dehiscence with each jump, but it seemed like we made it through unscathed.\n\nThe diagnostics were almost completed when what sounded like a mild meteor shower peppered the hull of the starboard engine bulk. Warning lights started to flash and the AI suggested slight course adjustments to avoid excessive loss of integrity.\n\nBefore I could issue orders for evasive maneuvres, similar warnings popped up regarding the left engine bulk as well as the rest of the ship in an almost omnidirectional barrage. The incident was immediately re-classified as a scenario 4a: extra-terrestrial attack, as the ship AI exclaimed that we were surrounded by enemy vessels.\n\nRecalling my academy training, I called for an immediate report of the capabilities of the attacking forces and the expected durability of ship defenses. Crew members scrambled to their stations as a false color holographic projection of the battlefield appeared before me.\n\nThere were dozens of them and we were completely surrounded.\n\n\nBy ships of almost six- no, eight INCHES across.\n\nThere was a stunned silence as all eyes in the command center stared at the projection. The battlefield looked akin to fruit flies surrounding a massive banana, and WE were the banana. The ship AI was equally speechless as it adjusted and readjusted the magnification while checking for possible sensor errors.\n\nThe pitter-patter barrage was shown to be crossfire between what appears to be two miniature armies. Our ship had jumped and landed right in the middle of their firing trajectories. Computer projections estimated that a hull breach may occur within the next two years at this rate, and my crew had yet to even activate the shields.\n\nI shared a significant look with my first mate, both of us biting back laughter.\n\nA bright ping brought my attention to the console: diagnostics were complete and the ship was ready for a micro-jump to approach the planet we came so far to study.\n\nI took a final glance at the comically insignificant armies before signaling to my first mate to proceed with the jump.\n\nWithin the snap of a finger, we were brought miles within re-entry distance of the planet, close enough to begin the descent. Meanwhile, the holographic projection showed that the resulting blast from our jump had wiped out almost half the forces of each army.\n\n'Such destruction, without even meaning to. If all aliens were this small, what do we have to fear in the cosmos?' I pondered.\n\nWatching the greenery of the New world bloom and come into focus, I'll admit, the thought does put a smile on my face." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: The knight rushes up to the dragon, who lets out a fierce roar. The knight thinks his time has finally come to slay the dragon, but then a dragon translator runs out from behind the dragon, screaming at him to stop." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Trumpets sound a mighty triumph, rousing the citizens of the city into a euphoric roar.\n\nThe knight trots through the cobble stoned streets on his proud stallion. He sits tall and straight backed, waving at the adoring crowd.\n\nA procession stretches out behind the knight, trumpeters bellowing and trailing a wagon that sports a mighty dragon's head.\n\nDistinguished shouts burst from the crowd, \"George, George, the mighty dragon slayer,\" and \"George, hail the savior of our city.\" Fanfare and music and jubilation, the dragon of the countryside is no more.\n\nThe jubilant crowd surges against a wall of guardsmen strung across the street, waiting for the esteemed knight to pass into the royal section of the city. The streets here are cleaner, wider, less packed with seething humanity. Nobles clap with polite fanfare and young ladies blow kisses to the dashing knight as he rides by, only to recoil in horror at the grotesque site of the severed dragon's head.\n\nThe knight pulls up in the royal court yard and the procession halts behind him. He dismounts and bows before the king, who stands regally upon the steps to the royal palace.\n\n\"Sire,\" George says, dismounting with a flourish and going to one knee, \"I bring you the dragon's head.\"\n\nThe king says nothing, instead staring silently at the grotesque remnants of the once mighty creature laid bare on the wagon. \"I did not ask you to slay this dragon, knight,\" the king eventually says.\n\nGeorge looks around. The court yard is silent, all eyes upon him and the king. \"I took it upon myself to rid this land of the blight that plagues it, sire,\" he says.\n\n\"Come with me, knight,\" the king turns briskly on his heel and walks inside.\n\nGeorge follows, blinking in surprise. He walks through the high, arching doors and down a passageway lined with tapestries that depict noble scenes, celebrating the stuff of legends. \"I will be immortalized upon one of these tapestries,\" he says out loud, his metal clad footsteps echoing off the stone floor.\n\nHe follows the king into the throne room and as he enters the mighty oak doors close behind him, the ancient wood creaking as it swings inwards. The king stops, then abruptly turns and walks back towards the knight. \"Tell me what happened, now,\" he says, voice laden with fear.\n\n\"Wh-, what?\" George stammers in response.\n\n\"Tell me exactly what happened.\"\n\n\"Yes sire,\" the knight bows deeply, gathering his resolve, \"I came upon the dragon's layer and I challenged it to combat. It emerged mightily, breathing fire.\"\n\n\"Then what,\" the king says, his face a foot away, his royal eyes boring into the knight.\n\nGeorge hesitates, wondering if he should relay the next part, but to lie before a king means treason and death, \"A man came out from between the dragon's legs, a disgusting lizard-helper, bottom-dwelling excuse of a man... he screamed for me to stop and I cut him down.\" The knight concludes that he did no wrong, \"The dragon roared with intensity and charged me and I thrust my lance through the dumb creature's heart.\"\n\nThe king drops to his knees and lets out a long, low groan. \"You idiot,\" he says, \"You fucking moron.\"\n\nGeorge steps backwards, taken aback. \"What, sire?\" he says, dumbfounded.\n\n\"That dragon was a young prince sent here to learn our ways, to bridge the gap between beast and man,\" the king lets out a short, desperate wail, \"We have been working with it for years now. We have come so close to reaching an understanding only for it to be ended by you,\" the ruler jabs a finger at the knight, \"You glory-seeking weapon-wielding idiot,\" he says, his voice dripping with venom.\n\nThe knight's mouth falls open but no words come out.\"But... but this is a dragon...\" he manages, finally.\n\nThe king indicates off to the side. \"Take him away,\" he says as guardsmen step out from the shadows. \"He has awakened the Dragon Emperor.\"\n\n\"What?,\" the knight protests, \"Unhand me,\" he shouts as chain-mailed hands clutch him and forcefully drag him away, \"You can't do this! I am a hero!\"\n\nThe king is left alone in the chamber, kneeling with his hands upon the cold floor. He sobs quietly, feeling the tears fall down his cheeks, watching as the liquid hits the uncaring stone.\n\n\"The Dragon Emperor has been awakened and now doom descends upon us,\" he says, his voice reverberating off of the high stone ceiling.\n\nAfter a time he stands and briskly wipes away the last of his tears. He sets his shoulders, resolving to be every inch the necessary ruler in the dark times ahead. \"We must prepare.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You are the hero that was prophesied to overthrow the dark lord. The problem is, you died three weeks ago." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They say it’s only darkest before the dawn. I have come to appreciate just how wrong this phrase is. After the defeat of my companions and, I’d assume, my subsequent death, I learned what true darkness really is. It is a complete void, an absence of everything, where nothing but my consciousness remained. Time meant nothing, everything meant nothing, and all I could do was float.\n\nUntil a light pierced the darkness on an unerring trajectory to my soul. I could not avoid it; I’m not even sure if I could move in that void, truth be told. The light pierced me to my core, and though there were none to hear me, I screamed in pain. The searing white hotness of just BEING ripped me apart, and I found myself pulled into the light and beyond.\n\nI expected the afterlife when I opened my eyes, though I will gladly debate on which gate might have stood before me. What I did not expect was to see myself tied to a table in a room filled with debris. The domicile was decimated, with the roof and half of the walls either reduced to rubble or just simply gone. Whoever might have lived here was long gone, though the room itself was not unoccupied.\n\nMy eyes gradually came to focus on a young lad, barely of age, that was chanting incantations in a low voice from a tome I did not recognize. I tried to raise my hand, forgetting for a moment that I was restrained; the sound of movement caught his attention and he looked my way.\n\nThe moment he realized I was looking back at him, he smiled a weary smile of relief and shut the book. “Oh thank the gods! It’s really you!”\n\nMy voice sounded odd to my ears as I replied, “Is it?” I grimaced. There was something strange here. My memory was still waking up, but I certainly didn’t remember my voice having such a deep timbre to it. “Where am I?”\n\n“In a small village – well, what’s left of it, anyway – that is near where the heroes of Baznta fell to the Dark One.” The young lad placed the tome down on the floor beside him and moved to my side. “How do you feel?”\n\n“Honestly?” I considered the question for a moment. “Odd. What happened?”\n\nThe young man bent to the task of removing my restraints as he talked. “Well, as I said, ‘where the heroes fell.’ That included you, Sir Culean.”\n\n“Ah.” I waited until the restraints had been removed before I continued. “That would explain the darkness, at least. But how am I back? How long have I been…”\n\n“Dead?” The young man stepped back and studied me. “About three weeks now, nearly four.”\n\n“Gods. That long.” My limbs felt strange. Muscles weren’t quite responding how they should, and everything felt heavy. “And you are?”\n\n“Call me Donatelo.”\n\n“Very well, Donatelo.” I sat up and regarded the man. “You must be quite a healer, then, to bring me back from the dead.”\n\n“Ah.” Donatelo pursed his lips. “I’m… no healer, m’lord.”\n\n“Oh. Necromancer then?”\n\n“I am a Lapidarist Mage.”\n\n“Lapidary?” I studied the young man with respect. The mages of stone were rumored to be extinct. That rumor, apparently, was completely untrue. “So then you’ve brought me back… why?”\n\n“The Dark One is making a move on the Forest of Cobblestone. The seer told us of his coming, and that only you would be able to vanquish him. As has been foretold since you were born.” He sighed. “I was sent to find you, but when I arrived, you and your friends had been carrion for some time. I am sorry I was not able to reach you sooner.”\n\n“If you had come sooner, you’d be feeding the vultures too.” I shook my head. “I thank you for my life, either way, Donatelo. And I will help you against the Dark One – but one question. If I’m not resurrected, and I’m not undead… What am I?”\n\nDonatelo smiled. “What any good Lapidarist Mage worth his salt would be able to craft, m’lord. You are a stone golem.”\n\n“I’m… what?” It was then I realized a few things. I had yet to blink. I had not once taken a breath. My limbs were heavy, heavier than I remembered, but not uncomfortably so. I held my hand up, and upon close inspection, I could see the natural divots and hairline cracks inherent in the stone.\n\nDonatelo sighed. “I am sorry I was not a healer, m’lord. If I could have resurrected you-“\n\nI stopped him with a laugh. “Sorry? Are you mad?” I slid off the table, relishing the thud that marked my landing. “I may have to be careful on bridges and anything wooden, but this is a gift, Donatelo.” I closed my hand into a fist. Even my unarmed attacks could do significant damage now… “The Dark One incapacitated me and my companions with poisonous gas. I was able to resist it somewhat before but weakened by the gas as I was, I was no match for him in his full strength. You have given me a gift, Donatelo. Now. Where is my sword?”\n\n“I have it with my horse, m’lord.”\n\n“Then let’s go.” Grim, I followed Donatelo out of the ruined abode. I had been given a new chance at life, a new attempt to fulfill the prophecy that had been written in the stars eons ago.\n\nThe Dark One had bested me once. That would not happen again." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: If you're cremated after death, where ever your ashes are spread indicate the locations your ghost is able to roam." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If there was one thing that he knew, it was that she was beautiful. Sometimes her hair caught in the light of the setting sun, as she stared wistfully at the ocean. Other times her sundress would ripple in the gentle sea breeze, and she would gather a handful of it, a simple gesture meant only to comfort herself.\n\nHe could only observe, of course, because his ashes had been so carefully scattered at the top of the cliff, where he had spent many an evening with old friends, laughing and smiling and doing so very little that he couldn't help but think the entirety of his life had been somewhat wasted. So it had been a relief, to be sure, when he had realised that he wasn't set to leave this plane for some time, and could follow wherever his remains lay. Of course, some of them stayed in that infernal crematorium, and he wasn't quite ready to return there, no thank you.\n\nSo after a couple of weeks painfully watching his family repair their broken hearts, he was left by friend and relative alike atop this point, which they so rarely visited any more, not that he could blame them. Soon after this sudden change of location the madness had started to set in, and that was when he had first seen her, wandering the beach. She wasn't always there, but when she was, it was his only respite from the reality of his immortal fate. When he saw her, suddenly things didn't seem so bad.\n\nOh, apart from the fact that he couldn't go down there. The ash on the cliff top had either been blown away or had settled into the soil, leaving him with few options as to his location. The other pieces had (as is so often the case) ended up in the sea, which wasn't his first choice for a final resting place.\n\nAnd so he waited. He thought with momentary panic that she might stop coming, or that she might not be able to see him, but the simple fact was that thinking would drive him insane, so he didn't. Even as the seasons colours shifted, and cars passed by like blurs of light and sound, he willed himself towards her, consequences be damned.\n\nIt was on a rainy night several years later that part of the cliff collapsed, sending some of the soil containing him down to the beach. After a moment of skyward thanks, he materialised at the bottom to see the white sundress he had fixated upon. She turned to face him, and beamed such that he thought the sun had made a surprise appearance.\n\n\"Ah, I was wondering when your would make your way down here,\" She remarked in a delicate tone that reminded him of a spring breeze and the colour green.\n\n\"Well,\" he managed, \"I've been stuck on that cliff for so long, I was afraid you might have left,\"\n\nShe laughed brightly, and replied, \"I guess I could have, seeing as I'm all along this beach and far out to sea by now. There might even be some of me on foreign shores, for all I know!\"\n\n\"So why didn't you? Leave, that is?\"\n\nShe smiled again, and if he'd had a heart, it would have fluttered.\n\n\"Why, because I wanted to meet you! After all, good things come to those who wait,\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: An alien ship arrived in the solar system. It sent a signal directed at earth. It flew away before we could decode it. But not before an answering signal came out of the marianas trench." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "ShipBoss Chen skimmed the speech once more. He had given many speeches, lectures, and pep-talks throughout his life, but this was different. 5000 years of history stood behind this announcement. A speech that once transmitted, would take many centuries of travel at the speed of light, to reach the last of the human colonies in space. Even after the initial transmission faded beyond human reach, it would probably be replayed for many generations to come. That puts quite the weight on one’s shoulders.\n\nThe ShipBoss sat himself in front of the camera. Crewmembers scampered hither and thither making sure all the recording and transmitting equipment was set right. Half of the ships power was devoted just to make this transmission powerful enough. There was no room for error.\n\nSlowly everyone quieted down.\n\nA sergeant raised three fingers,\n\nthen two,\n\nthen one,\n\nthen none.\n\n“I am ShipBoss Chen of Starship Sherlock. Five millennia ago, a foreign artificial craft entered the solar system, transmitting a message repeatedly as it zipped among the planets. It woke humanity’s spirits and focused its attention towards the sky. Once the object’s trajectory passed our birthplanet Earth, a second similar transmission emanated from out of our planet. Shortly after that reply, the alien craft made some minor maneuvers and left the solar system in a straight line.\n\nThe reason I’m reminding you all of these details, is because this is the information humanityhad to work with at first. Our ancestors crunched the data and found the source of the signal from Earth – it came from the Marianas Trench. Then they decoded the signals themselves and found out it was a simple ‘are you there?’ handshake protocol. Finally, they mapped the trajectory of the leaving craft to find where it had gone. And that is what sent humanity on a hunt through the stars.\n\nIt took another two thousand years until Starship Blackbird reached a star system, with a planet that responded similarly to how Earth replied to the request signal we knew to mimic. Only the reply was a little different. With that third point of data the Blackbird was able to analyze and figure out what other star systems would be visited by that mysterious craft. More importantly the Blackbird discovered that there was a central location, and where it should be. The only issue being – that central location was a thousand lightyears away.\n\nWe wanted to be sure before we started the journey. We sent out starships to the other likely star systems to have a response. We slowly collected the data, made corrections to the Blackbird’s initial estimate, which was off by just one star system, and planned the long journey to that central location.\n\nFive years ago, our ship arrived at the central. We were surprised to find our original visitor transmitting over and over all over the star system. This star system has a charred planet sitting within the habitable zone. We probed the probe, and collected all that we could about it. We scanned, landed, and measured all we could on the odd planet. I’m sorry to say that we found a civilization long gone. By our measurements, 100 million years gone. It’s incredible their probing craft lasted so long in space.\n\nI made an executive decision.\n\nWe sent a fake reply to the probe so it may continue on its last mission in the stars.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: The Captured Princess was foretold that one day a Hero would rise up against the Tyrant Monster who imprisoned her and would be her true love. She's dreamt of noble knights, rugged rogues, even Witty Wizards. She did not dream the fabled hero was actually a heroine." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I'm sorry. I just really don't think this is going to work.\n\nI mean yes, technically, that is the deal. You did do all the necessary steps - kill the dragon, kiss the princess. But, you know...\n\nI mean, you seem very nice. I'm sure we'll always be great friends. Father will probably give you half the kingdom - that bit's not a problem.\n\nDon't pretend you don't understand. It's supposed to be a knight in shining armour.\n\nYes, it's very shiny. I'm not objecting to the armour.\n\nI don't care who knighted you. There's a very clear expectation here. Knights are meant to be burly men with big swords.\n\nI'm sure it's a very big sword, but that, again, isn't really the issue.\n\nKnights aren't meant to be girls. Alright? That's the expected stereotype.\n\nStereotypes exist for a reason.\n\nNo, obviously not that one. That one's awful. But the stereotype about knights being men is reasonable. Most people, if you asked them, would agree with me.\n\nAgain, I'm very grateful. This just isn't what I expected, and I don't think it will work out. I'm supposed to be woken by True Love's kiss, and then get married. To a man.\n\nWell maybe any kiss will work. Maybe that bit's a myth. Like drag- I mean unicorns.\n\nI'm not saying it was a bad kiss! There's no need to be so touchy. I'm sure it was fine. I don't have a lot to compare it too.\n\nAnd I was asleep. It's hardly fair to kiss me when I'm asleep and then tell me that means I'm in love.\n\nWell it would have been different if you were a man.\n\nBecause it would have been. That's how it works.\n\nOf course I seemed to enjoy it. It was the first thing I'd done in a hundred years. And I thought you were somebody else. I wouldn't have enjoyed it if I'd had my eyes open.\n\nNo, I don't want to try it again. I have no interest in kissing you at all.\n\nI'm not protesting too much. I just don't feel like it.\n\nFine, if it will make you stop going on about it.\n\nWell that doesn't prove anything. It's a perfectly normal response. Could have happened to anyone.\n\nI did not do that. Not a gasp, nor a sigh. Definitely not a moan. I was just breathing. Perfectly normally.\n\nOf course I kissed back. That's the polite thing to do.\n\nWhere else was I supposed to put my hands?\n\nI didn't enjoy it at all. I felt nothing.\n\nDidn't.\n\nAnyway, we're getting off topic. This still isn't going to happen.\n\nYou're not what I pictured at all. You're supposed to have a beard.\n\nIt would not scratch my face. It would be rugged and masculine.\n\nMy face would be fine. Soft skin isn't everything.\n\nAnd you're meant to be taller than me. With lots of muscles.\n\nYou don't have to stand so close.\n\nFine, you're taller than me. That doesn't prove anything.\n\nGoodness, you are very muscled. Very firm. Do you exercise a lot?\n\nI didn't want you to kiss me then. You are taking liberties.\n\nI'll tell you if I want you to.\n\nI would if I did.\n\nI am not afraid. I'm just not interested.\n\nNot afraid at all. Go on then.\n\nYou've messed up my hair.\n\nI know it's pretty. I said you could kiss me, not mess it up.\n\nNo, still not interested. Didn't feel anything.\n\nWell, marriage isn't just about physical reactions. There are other important things.\n\nYou really are very persistent. Let's talk about something else.\n\nYou'll be very famous for rescuing me. Rich as well. That should be enough.\n\nYou can buy more surcoats and stuff like that. Or whatever lady knights wear.\n\nWhat do you wear? Do you spar without a shirt on? I always pictured my knight whacking away at things without a shirt on. All the muscles moving, that kind of thing.\n\nReally? Interesting.\n\nI meant interesting in an academic sense. Not like that.\n\nIt's just something you say. It doesn't mean anything.\n\nStop it. You're being unreasonable. And stop grinning at me.\n\nLook, I really am sorry, okay? Thanks for saving me. And you seem like a very good lady knight. It just doesn't make sense.\n\nYou know, because of the biology. The different bits...\n\nNo I can't be more specific. I'm a princess. We don't talk about things like that.\n\nI will not draw you a picture!\n\nAnyway, everyone knows how its supposed to work. You're the weird one. You should draw me...\n\nDon't actually. I don't want to know.\n\nJust for curiousity's sake though. Sort of... sum it up. Without any details.\n\nGoodness. That's positively indecent.\n\nI'm not considering it. I'm thinking about something else.\n\nNone of your business.\n\nNo it isn't, because we're not going to get married.\n\nI've told you why.\n\nYou're a girl and I'm a girl. That doesn't work.\n\nI don't need another explanation, thank you very much.\n\nLook, it's not just about that.\n\nMy father wouldn't like it.\n\nWhat do you mean \"if you could get him to agree?\"\n\nI'm not going to fall into your arms just because you woke me up.\n\nEven with True Love's kiss. Which, by the way, I still view as highly suspect.\n\nI just don't see this as working out at all.\n\nYes. Final answer. Not going to change my mind.\n\nWhere are you going?\n\nLet's not be hasty. I mean, we could talk about this.\n\nI'm not saying I want to marry you. You just... don't have to go away just yet.\n\nMaybe I'm scared the dragon will come back.\n\nThere might be more than one.\n\nI just want to have a conversation. There's nothing wrong with that.\n\nYou could maybe sit a little closer. It's awfully hard to hear you talk from over by the door.\n\nI'm not being inconsistent. You're the one who woke me up, remember?\n\nI didn't say that! I'm perfectly fine without being kissed. I don't even want you to kiss me. At all.\n\nI will not tell you that. I'm not the one who wants to.\n\nOkay fine. Just quickly.\n\nWhat more do you want?\n\nYou're horrible.\n\nI would like you to kiss me. Happy now?\n\nYou don't have to ask for permission.\n\nI know what I said. Stop talking.\n\nYou've messed my hair up again. It takes ages to braid it properly.\n\nWhy is it a waste of effort? If you pin it properly, it stays in place for ages.\n\nOh.\n\nWhat will my father say?\n\nJust like that then. You'll \"handle it\". I'd like to see that.\n\nI think you might be wrong about how much stock my father puts in True Love's kiss.\n\nHe'll probably argue that it's a false positive, or doesn't count, or something like that. He'll want to be definite that it's right.\n\nMaybe you should kiss me some more before we go. Just to be sure." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: In a post-apocalyptic desert, you stumble upon an ominous marker." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The thing took deep, heavy breaths as it stared at the symbol on the wall of the building. The building itself was old, decrepit, broken down over the centuries it stood. Thousands, if not millions of years ago. Not that it mattered to the tall, yellow skinned creature. A shadow of what was once a human shape, now twisted, distorted with many limbs and too many elbows.\n\nThe normal woman waiting for him by the door did not care about the image, it wasn't something she recognized, it wasn't something she remembered. She could have remembered, it was too long ago for her.\n\n\"Are you coming Pru?\" The red haired young woman asked, pulling the creature from its daydreams of staring at the symbol with its many bright eyes. \"They're waiting for the supplies, I think Dari is getting better.\" The woman smiled at the creature, the thing that stood beside her. Pru simply nodded, it's many hands and limbs reaching down and picking up the hand stitched duffel bag from the desert sand.\n\nThey descended into the building, many more symbols dotted the rusty metal walls, lit by torches and lanterns. Pru remembered what they didn't, what they weren't around for. Pru remembered the long glass strips that once lit these halls, lighting the rooms in bright white lights.\n\nPru had to duck, his many limbs upholding his weight as he carried on, intent on following the red haired woman deeper into the structure. Then then lantern and the torch were no longer needed, as they entered a larger room, one that once held a simple, but great purpose. The stone walls rose high, into a now vague, broken circle, with many streams of dying light streaming through.\n\nMany hand crafted structures dotted the circle, men, women, children all living in their community, where Pru once sat alone. A bald man approached Pru, taking the duffel bag from him, running off towards a scrap metal building, with an unprofessionally painted red plus sign on the side. Many children ran up to Pru, tugging on his arms, pulling him in every which direction.\n\nPru didn't mind the company, in fact, he appreciated it. His memory was hazy, but he remembered people who looked very much like the dirty men and women who lived here now. But that was a long time ago, back when the electronic crackling hurt his ears.\n\nThe children collectively pulled Pru towards a room they had unearthed, dug up from rubble that had decayed over time. The room was dark, illuminated by one of the small candles the children were given. Inside was many rusty items, one in particular caught one of Pru's many eyes.\n\nA small device, one he remembered from a long time ago. He held one before, he used it constantly. Pru picked up the device, slowly pushing down the power button, watching the dull, cracked screen light up, the first thing he saw was the small needle pointing steadily to the number .87.\n\nThen the crackling startle, the awful, painful crackling that once hurt Pru. He dropped the device, still emitting the constant crackling as he fled from the room, the children starring in odd confusion as the lumbering giant ran. The giant dove once more back into the dark facility, running in pitch black halls, almost as if by muscle memory.\n\nThen he came to it, the place he slept for so many years. The room was opened months ago when the people found him, back then they were afraid, terrified even. Their fear was no where close to what he felt, locked in that room with that awful crackling sound, the never ending sound from a battery that refused to run out of power.\n\nIn truth, the crackling stopped a year after the accident, but he never noticed, the droning was the only noise he had, so his mind kept playing it until the door opened again.\n\nHe sat in the dark corner, gray light sticking through the door, threatening to disturb his peace. It wasn't long before he heard of the light thumps of the red haired woman, searching for him out of worry. \"Pru?\" She called out to him, the name she gave him when they first found him.\n\nShe approached him, lantern out, slowing her pace as she came close. As she saw him, sitting there, curled into a tight ball, she placed down her lantern, slowly sitting next to him. She acted like she understood his fear, reassuring him that the sound couldn't hurt him.\n\nBut she didn't. She couldn't.\n\nHis fear of the sound never ceased, because it reminded him of what made him into the pained monster he had become, with an unstable memory and a forgetful mind.\n\nHe just couldn't remember what 'radiation' meant." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You are the servant of the High Priestess. You are also the witness of her corruption." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I have been there for her since the beginning, and I will be there for her again soon.\n\nI watched as she grew up, curious about everything, the grass, the sky, the butterfly that landed on her fingertip.\n\nI saw to her every need, from cooking her food, to mending her wounds to arranging playdates with children found to be acceptable by the Church.\n\nI watched as she went through the fanciest dresses and shoes in the land, unquestioning as to why she deserved such nice things, yet still thankful for each one that was given to her.\n\nI stood by her as she stared in amazement at the glassblower, making her a beautiful pair of glass slippers, all of which in preparation of the coronation that she knew nothing about.\n\nI watched as she was told about her great destiny, the role she would play as the High Priestess of the Church.\n\nI smiled as she asked me questions all through the night, trying to make sense of it all, asking too if I would still be there with her.\n\nI watched as she graciously accepted the Holy Crown in front of the people she would from then on decide the fate of.\n\nI felt my heart skip a beat as she, for only a moment, struggled to balance the weighty headpiece, and then felt it soar when she regained composure and gave the most beautiful curtsy in her glass slippers, just as I had taught her.\n\nI watched as she fell in love, not with the suitors you had chosen for her, but with a simple peasant boy she one day found trespassing in the castle.\n\nI helped her as she snuck out of her marble cage night after night to see him, often putting on the same glass slippers, although they now barely fit.\n\nI watched as you discovered her secret meetings, and forbade her to ever see the boy again.\n\nI cried with her all through the night as she escaped her prison one final time to find no more trace of the boy she loved.\n\nI watched her over the coming years, feeling her heart grow distant.\n\nI stood by as she came to treat the people she once cared for as you do. As nothing more than political pawns.\n\nI watched as you slowly turned her into one of you, until one day she came across a strange peasant boy trespassing in the castle. And she sought to have him executed.\n\nI pleaded with her to show mercy on the lad, simply looking for the food she and the rest of you had denied them all, showing her the glass slippers, begging her to remember.\n\nI watched as she had him escorted to the gallows, as she pushed my aside, smashing the glass slippers into a thousand pieces, tears now running down my face.\n\nI saw into her eyes, and saw no remorse for either action.\n\nI watched as those eyes turned to confusion as I gripped a shard of the glass, blood still running down my hand.\n\nI watched as those eyes turned to betrayal as I stabbed it through her heart, tears still running down my face.\n\nI watched as those eyes turned empty, and a colossal weight was lifted from my feeble shoulders.\n\nSo I beg of you, execute me for my actions, so that I may once again comfort her, as I have always done." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: The Ministry of Magic misplaced some documents and only managed to go find Harry 25 years after they were supposed to. Since then, Harry moved to Texas and when Hagrid goes looking for him, he's met with a gun and a phrase of legends: \"Get off my lawn!\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A hot summer’s day. The sun beat down on the Potter Ranch, bathing it in heavenly golden light. A picturesque scene; cows in the field grazing on fresh green grass, sheep lazing in the shade of a tall oak tree. Harry looked out over his fields, his kingdom, and smiled. It had been 10 years since he had escaped his awful aunt and uncle, the Dursleys. 10 years since he had made the long journey to America, the land of the free, and set up shop in the Texan countryside. A life away from the hustle and bustle of the cities, away from civilization. This is what Harry had always needed. He closed his eyes and leant back in his rocking chair. Hedwig, his shotgun, at his side. Porch protected. Sentry duty was important, you never know who could come a-knocking.\n\nThe usual sweet sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves filled the air. But something else, too… something unfamiliar. Something unwelcome. A low rumble, from the sky. A plane? No. Harry opened one eye and his hand drifted towards Hedwig, finger on the trigger. A black spot against the pale blue sky, approaching quickly. Harry rose from his chair, Hedwig firmly in his grasp now. He had been waiting for this day. He knew they’d come eventually, he’d heard the stories. Invaders from another world. The black figure grew larger, closer. “Come git sum you fuckin’ martians.” Harry muttered under his breath, taking aim. Suddenly, a voice, “Wait a secon’, ‘arry!” Harry waited for no man. Slight pressure on the finger, the trigger - pulled. A boom and a flash of light, a clunk as the large object fell from the sky and straight down into the field with a crash.\n\nHarry approached, Hedwig still aimed at the object, arms steady. It looked like a motorbike. And underneath it, what looked like a man. But more than a man. A giant. This fella must have been nearly 9 feet tall! He shifted slightly, he was still alive. The man groaned and pushed the wreckage of his vehicle aside. Harry kept Hedwig trained on the beast. “Who the hell are you and what are you doin’ on my property?”\n\nThe man got to his feet, towering over Harry, casting a shadow big enough to freeze over a continent.\n\n“Why’d yeh do that, ‘arry? Yeh could have killed me!”\n\n“That was the idea, freak! Now I’ll ask again; who the hell are you and what the hell are you doin’-” Harry cocked his shotgun. “-on my property?!”\n\n“Alrigh’, calm down! I’ve been lookin’ for yeh for years! Never thought yeh’d be all the way out here! Blimey, you’ve grown.”\n\n“You got 5 seconds you homeless lookin’ motherfucker!”\n\n“Me name’s Hagrid, Rubeus Hagrid. I’ve known ye since yeh were a baby! You’re well past the learnin’ age now but I thought I’d come find ye anyways, tell ye the truth… about who yeh really are.”\n\nHarry thought he was tripping. What was this big bearded basted talking about?\n\nHe edged closer and from his mouth escaped the stupidest thing Harry had ever heard, “Yer a wizard, Harry.”\n\n“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Harry said, his patience slipping.\n\n“A wizard. And a thumpin’ good’un I’d wager, if we’d trained you up a little…”\n\n“Wizard? Like Houdini or some shit?”\n\n“I can tell yeh don’t believe me… don’t blame yeh really… so I’ll prove it to yeh!” Hagrid reached into his coat and began to pull something out. Nope, no chances being taken. Harry pulled Hedwig’s trigger, and filled the giant-man with lead. The impact knocked him back at least 3 feet, ruptured his chest, blood and viscera flying in every direction. Instant death. Harry lowered his weapon and trudged over to what remained of Hagrid, and saw in his massive hands… a large umbrella.\n\n“Well shit.” Harry said to himself. Still, better safe than sorry. Time to clean up the mess." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Humans have recently been introduced to the council for intelligent species, the representatives for each race debate the possible roles humans are most suited to within the organisation." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Order! Order!” the Crif ambassador shouted, being the second oldest representative did get one at least of semblance of respect from the other species. “I know that many are against this, but we cannot ignore them any longer. They have left their atmosphere, and by definition, we must offer them a place at our side.”\n\n“But they only went to their planet’s natural satellite! Most species at least get to the next solar system!” cried the Kaz’rak, “Can’t we at least wait until they reach another planet within their own solar system?”\n\n“The rules are clear Kaz’rak, we know that your scientific prowess is unmatched, but they can offer other gifts to the council. They have vast genres of music, such that we have never heard.” Said the musical voice of the Ssshaild, the ambassador of the foremost artists in the universe.\n\n“Nonsense, their so-called ‘music’ is nothing more that guttural shouts and screams, nothing like the harmonies of the Klite. No, they have shown their capacity for battle. They must be allowed to join the Allegiance’s army!” the Vkarw representative shouted, “Our war with the Krugs is draining our supply of warriors!”\n\n“That is out of the question! They have no claws to speak of, the weak molars of omnivores and no natural body armor, not exactly the perfect warrior, Vkarw.” Ever since the Jranl had given the “gift” of sarcasm to the Allegiance they had been a constant thorn in the Vkarw’s side. The Vkarw, a warlike species, similarly had no love lost for the peace loving Jranl, whom they considered weaklings.\n\n“Really Jranl? What did you have in mind? Would you like them to swaddle you some more?” the Vkarw snarled.\n\n“FUCK YOU VKARW, YOU KNOW WHY WE ARE PEACEFUL!” Shouted the Jranl, and the Council erupted into a cacophony of shouting and arguing. Petty grievances made worse by words said in anger.\n\n“Enough!” From the back of the room the voice was heard. At once it was quiet. “They must be given a place with us, is that clear?” the Yaweh said, with clear authority in his voice. The oldest species represented at the Council was also by far the most advanced. There were even whispers that they had played at godhood millennia ago.\n\n“Yes councilor.” said the rest of the ambassadors.\n\n“The Vkarw bring up an interesting point. The war is not going well.” The Yahweh started.\n\n“Exactly! Which is why we need soldi-ack!” The Vkarw fell to its many knees, struggling to breath as the Yahweh lowered his hand to allow it to breathe again.\n\n“Do not interrupt me again Vkarw, this is your final warning.” The Vkarw representative weakly nodded as the Yahweh continued, “We do not need more soldiers. It is strategy that is losing us this war. In our observance of this species we have not found them to stand out in most things. They are slow, lack the viciousness needed for war and have poor battle designs. However, they have one thing that no other known species has. Their lungs and circulatory system are stronger than anything we have seen. They may not be the fastest or the strongest, but no other species has near their endurance. Which is why I move to allow the humans into the Council with the understanding that they will be the assassins of the Allegiance; hunting down our enemy’s leaders, giving them no space to breathe until they collapse.”\n\nA silence fell over the Council.\n\n“All those in favor?”\n\nPlease be kind, I'm no writer and this is my first submission. Any critique is welcome. Thanks!\n\nEDIT: Formatting" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: During gym class, you got a good, swift, knock to the gut. When you started coughing blood, your biggest concern was if you were dying. Now it’s why the weird kid is trying to be your friend. It normally wouldn’t be a problem except they keep saying “We're both vampires!”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I wanted to curl up as the pain of another girl's shin slamming into my gut hit me hard. Maybe I should have opted out of the soccer game today. I managed to keep my feet beneath me even though my legs shook and the shriek of the coach's whistle made my ears ring. My classmates had rushed over, crowding me and if I wasn't so busy coughing and holding my stomach, I would have tried to shove them away. I didn't like crowds like this; the press of bodies tended to trigger fight or flight for me.\n\nThe coach was trying to force everyone back to get to me, he sounded worried and Laura, the girl who slammed into me, was holding on to my shoulders to help keeping me up. \"Everyone back up!\" The coach shouted and I winced at the high volume. Why did the tall hulking blonde teacher need to be so loud?\n\nI let my legs collapse and crouched down, still holding my stomach and then coughing harder. I brought one hand up to my mouth and when I pulled my hand away it was flecked with blood. Well, huh, I don't know how to feel about this. My brain flashed to the scene in the movie Moulin Rouge where the red head had coughed up blood because she had consumption. I knew I didn't have consumption so... did she kick me that hard?\n\nThe coach was on us, gently pushing Laura away, had she gone to the ground with me? Coach saw my hand with the blood and shouted for someone to get to the nurse. The nurse came and had a fit before she was calling an ambulace and my mother. I wanted to protest, I was fine, just needed pain killers, right? Please? Nope. EMPs loaded me onto a gurney and someone said my mom would be at the hospital.\n\nAt the hospital I was subjected to test and x-rays and then was given some meds to take. Mom took me home and demanded to know what happened. I took a few minutes to tell her and then she sent me to lay down. I was out of school for the weekend, what a way to start a weekend. I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying to not roll onto my tummy to nap. There was already a pretty bruise, forming all along my belly.\n\nAs I contemplated the idea of just sleeping something plinked on my window. Huh? I looked around as another plink sounded. What made that kind of noise? Another plink. I slowly sat up and winced. I looked around and nearly screamed. Someone was at my window. I looked at the person and wanted to groan. Laila Norton was at my window and grinning at me.\n\nI was antisocial on a good day, but Laila... like gave me the heebijeebies. She knocked on the window and I groaned to open the window, shoving it up and open. \"Hello, Leila,\" I said in a monotone.\n\n\"Hi, Leslie!\" She chirped. \"Are you ok?\"\n\nI nodded. \"Yeah, I'm fine. Little achy, but fine.\"\n\nShe nodded. \"That's good!\"\n\nI looked down to see her perched on the porch overhang and bit my lip. \"You wanna come in?\" I asked.\n\nHer odd blue green eyes widened. \"Are... are ya sure?!\"\n\nI furrowed my eyebrows. \"Yeah... I know that's a fun place to sit and think, but you might want to come in from the cold.\"\n\nLeila nodded and I stepped back to let the little eccentric goth into my room. Leila was dressed, typical in black, her blonde hair cropped short and her nails painted a vibrant red. So were her lips but her eye makeup was heavy dark smokey shadow, liner and mascara. She grinned, showing off the slightly sharper than normal k9 teeth that were a brilliant white. \"I'm glad you're ok,\" she said softly, no long loud and shouty.\n\nI nodded and gestured for her to sit on my desk chair while I laid back down. She was looking around my room, at the Rock band posters, overflowing bookshelf, half full laundry basked and lingering on the closet door that had more locks on it than Harry Potter's bedroom door at the Dursleys' did. She looked at the messy desk covered in home made parchment and different fountain pens and hand made cards that looked better than anything you could find in the Hallmark aisle. She sat in the spinny chair backwards and stared at me.\n\n\"So...\" I said awkwardly.\n\n\"You wanna sit with me at lunch on Monday?\" She asked.\n\nI blinked and then shrugged. I usually hid out in the library at lunch, helping the librarian re shelve books or helping at the check out desk. \"I don't know. I usually do things in the library.\"\n\nShe nodded. \"OK, can I join you in there?\"\n\nI twisted my mouth as my brain tried to work out what was going on and sighed. \"Yeah, sure.\"\n\n\"Thanks! Well... I should ah, I should probably go now.\" She got up and made her way to the window. I watched her. Was that all she really wanted.\n\n\"Hey, Leila?\" She stopped and turned to me. \"Why do you suddenly want to be friends with me?\"\n\nHer wide grin was back as she slipped out of the window. She stuck her head back in and said, \"Well, we're both vampires, why shouldn't we be friends?\" With that she was gone and I was pretty sure my brain had gone into blue screen of death mode." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Boss: \"No? Then you're fired.\" Secretary: \" As of last week, i'm the majority shareholder of this company. You're the one who's fired.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He stared at me, squinting, “You’ve got to be joking. You’ve never made above $18 an hour.”\n\n“And I’m guessing you’ve never heard of investing?” I said, a smile on my lips. Bitcoin had been kind to a patient soul like myself.\n\n“So, what? I just leave? You take over as COO?”\n\n“No, I’ve already hired a new COO.” I pointed towards the door, “His name is Jacob, and I know this is shocking, he respects women as his equals. He can even admit when they’re better at something than him.”\n\nHis face was painted with anger, “You litte—”\n\n“I will call security. I’m being kind and giving you the time to pack up. I don’t want to humiliate you. Okay, I do. But it’s beneath me. I, unlike you, want to set a good example for my employees.” I turned, my heels clacking on the tiled floor of his corner office. I sat down at my desk just outside, my heart pounding. Fuck. I had rehearsed just that one line in front of the mirror for a week. I knew he’d take a jab at me.\n\nCarol, the CFO’s secretary popped her head around the corner, “Hey, darlin’, how are ya doing?” Her South Carolina twang always made my heart yearn for home. Chicago wasn’t really the place for a Southern Belle, but I had been making do. And so had she.\n\nI smiled at her, “I let him know. He didn’t take it well.” The sound of glass shattering punctuated my sentence. I shrugged at her. “He’s not a patient man at all. I don’t know if he understands self control.”\n\n“Oh come on now, dear. He may be a dick, but he did put twenty years into this company. That’s gotta feel bad no matter what, ya know? And people like him can’t process things anyway, let alone when their young secretary tells them they’re fired.”\n\n“You’re right. I may have been a little harsh.”\n\n“Ya know, my momma always taught me to take the high road.”\n\n“Do you?”\n\n“Hell no, but I feel an obligation to offer the high road as my first bit of advice. It’s important to know what you’re shirking when you decide to step on a man’s balls. Metaphorically, that is.” She was sitting on my desk now, her hands folded in her lap. She looked like the facsimile of a secretary, a simulacra popped down in front of me, crafted by someone with only a vague notion of how secretaries actually dressed. I had always attributed it to her age, but I think she really just liked looking the part.\n\nMore glass shattered and we shared a look. “Do you think I should call security?” I said, picking at my painted nails in worry.\n\n“Let him get his anger out now. Hopefully, when he goes home with tail tucked between his legs he won’t feel the need to retaliate. If we kick him out, he might come back.”\n\n“He doesn’t have much to go home to.” I said, almost as an afterthought.\n\n“What do ya mean?” She said, suddenly curious, leaning towards me.\n\n“Oh,” I said, blushing, “well his ex-wife and I have a date on Thursday.”\n\nShe swatted at my arm, “That’s what I call taking the high road, darlin’, nothing like treating a woman right.”\n\nr/AinsleyAdams" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: Everyone is unknowingly assigned an FBI Agent to watch them through a camera in their home; You realize this, and become best friends with yours." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Aha!” I exclaimed. I had found another one. I had to admit, he was getting better at hiding them; which just made it more fun to find them!\n\nIt was a long time ago when I found my first camera. The words ‘Property of the FBI’ was printed clearly on the minuscule camera, which kind of gave them away; but I suppose if you don’t plan on having them found in the first place, it’s easier to quell the minds of the small handful that do find them if they know that they’re only being spied on by ‘the good guys’.\n\nNaturally, after finding my first camera I went to the web to figure out what it was and why it was in my house. My response was a deleted forum thread and a prompt letter explaining who was spying on me, and why I shouldn’t contact anyone else about it.\n\nI had to give them credit for being thorough and concise.\n\nBut, they never told me not to find the cameras; So, for the first couple of months after I found the first, I went on a paranoid scavenger hunt, plucking out all the cameras I could find and turning them off.\n\nThe first few were easy, they weren’t hidden very well. I found them in teddy bears, behind pictures, and there was one in my fish tank. It was after they realized I was looking for them that they stepped up their game.\n\nThey started hiding them behind mirrors and inside my speakers. When some of my lightbulbs went out I found a camera embedded into the socket. I wondered how that actually worked, but with how the tech industry was booming it didn’t seem too farfetched.\n\nIt was at this point that I started calming down. Gone was the previous paranoia and fear. The FBI hadn’t sent any more letters despite the numerous camera’s I had collected and dismantled. My scavenger hunts were turning into a sort of game, and the FBI were losing.\n\nWith my recent influx of cameras, I decided to issue a challenge to the FBI; so, the next camera I found, I placed a note in front of it.\n\n> Josh: 14 - FBI: 0\n\nThe FBI responded to my challenge promptly. I had to give the newly identified Agent 1 credit, he definitely wasn’t slacking. I found another note attached to the next camera I found.\n\n> Agent 1: 16 – Josh: 14\n\nAnd so, we were off to the races! I bought a stud finder, and Agent 1 got smaller cameras. The cameras were getting harder and harder to find; but, I was getting better and better at finding them. I found cameras in my shirt’s buttons, inside thumbtacks, and attached to sprinkler heads. Every now and then we’d both compare scores, he would leave a note on a camera with what he thought our scores were, and I’d do the same in front of the camera.\n\nIt had been a while since I first issued the challenge. The score was now 213 – 204 with myself in the lead. At some point we discussed rules; Agent 1 would place twenty cameras around the house, and I would find them. After two weeks, however many I found and how many were left would be added to our respective scores.\n\nWe eventually started talking with each other. It started with me leaving a note that said “Hi”. And he later reciprocated with more notes on his cameras. The medium was awkward and in no way perfect, but we were able to start a relationship with it, so it must’ve been good enough.\n\nWe talked about our hobbies, our plans, our favorite movies. I couldn’t get much in the way of personal information from him, what with FBI agents not being allowed to have lives outside of work; but I still enjoyed his ‘company’.\n\nWe became quite close despite never having met. It’s crazy how easy it is to become friends with someone by communicating through notes on cameras. He told me a little bit about his family, his wife and two kids. I told him about my fiancé. We started dating just before I found the first camera. I joked about inviting him to our wedding, and he told me to bring a camera.\n\nI stopped looking for cameras after my wife died. She was shot on our honeymoon. Some sadistic mugger took her life when she wouldn’t give up her wedding ring.\n\nI didn’t leave my house for two weeks. Someone delivered groceries to my door. I only found out who it was because of the camera that was delivered along with the food. He didn’t leave a note with them, just a smiley face in yellow marker on the camera. I didn’t take apart that camera.\n\nAgent 1 comforted me throughout my mourning. He made sure I was getting food in me, and that I was taking care of myself. Reflecting back on it, my friend is the only reason I’m not with my wife right now.\n\nThe scores were now 4351 – 4277 with Agent 1 in the lead. It had been seven years since my wife died and thanks to Agent 1, my best friend, I was living life again. I never moved on after her death, but I did learn to remember her, as she was. I was sad that we didn’t get to spend very long as a married couple, but I learned to cherish the times we did have, and I have Agent 1 to thank for that.\n\nI was in the kitchen making breakfast when I heard a knock on the door. “One minute!” I shouted in the general direction of the front entrance. I made sure my meal wouldn’t burn and promptly made my way over.\n\nWhen I got there, I opened the door to reveal a well-dressed man holding a camera with a note on it. The note read:\n\n> Hey Josh, I win 4351 – 4277\n\nThe man grinned." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You were granted one wish, guaranteed to occur four times over in four distinct ways: exactly as you say, exactly as you mean, exactly as you need, and exactly as you deserve." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the hot desert that I found myself in, I eventually stumbled upon four people around a campfire. They live here and welcome me. They give me water and food, and let me travel with them. I befriended them over time as any normal person would. We traveled with each other for a month, long enough to make a bond that would last a lifetime.\n\nOn the last day of our treck, we had the strangest of conversations.\n\n\"Hey, I'm just curious. If you could have one wish, what would it be?\" A real curiosity, that is. I cooked the soup that night, so I was ladling it out into their bowls when one of them asked.\n\n\"One wish. Hmm. Well, what would be the rules of the wish? Is it like a genie or the monkey's paw?\" They smile. I think they enjoyed the twist I gave to their little campfire game.\n\n\"Well, since you asked, here are the rules. The one wish will be granted in four ways. The way you want, to the letter, exactly what you need, and what you deserve.\" I won't lie. That last one frightened me. Although, this is more interesting than the usual wish questions.\n\n\"Hmm. I don't know. Normally, I would wish for something like immortality, but then I don't know what would happen with the other four. If I wish for love, then then that would end up weird.\" I ponder for a moment. Thinking. Processing. I would want to live forever, but how would I-\n\nI know what to wish for.\n\n\"I wish to be agelessly immortal while also possessing the to grant others my immortality method. That would be my wish.\"\n\n\"Immortality? That's not a first, but the idea of spreading it is. Why do you want that?\" I think about my answer for a moment. It sounds so cheesy.\n\n\"Because I don't want to leave you all behind.\" Each one nods they all look at one another and nod at one another. The one on the furthest left stands.\n\n\"My name is محبة. Your wish has been granted. I grant you total and complete immortality, along with changing your brain so that you will never grow bored with endless life. When this world ends, you will wake upon a new one where your adventure can start anew. You can spread this by simply holding your intended target for a moment and thinking about giving them your gift.\" The next one to their right stands.\n\n\"My name is نظم. Your wish has been granted. You will be immortal. You can spread this immortality to others by willing it.\" I am shocked at this point. I can see myself growing younger as they speak, and an untold power rushing through me. The next one stands.\n\n\"My name is حاجة. Your wish has been granted. You are agelessly immortal, immune to illness, and you can not be held in a place against your will. You can spread this immortality to another through blood, willingly and freshly given to the other.\" The last one stands.\n\n\"My name is عدل. You have done many things in life. You are far from perfect, but your intentions are what matters. You gave of yourself whenever you could. You labor away in both a job and soup kitchen alike. You use the money you earn on charities, friends, family, and when you find yourself lucky, strangers. You have been the change you wanted to see in this world and paid forward every bit of good that has come your way. However, in doing so, you have neglected yourself. Even now, you have poured yourself a smaller portion so we could get seconds. With all this in mind, I will now grant your wish. I grant you the power of a genie. Immortality. The ability to grant wishes. Magic. All of this is yours. You already know how to spread this.\"\n\nI stood before them, as each sat down once again. I was young again. I have everything I want. Ultimate cosmic power. I can do whatever I want. My first action with the power I was granted was to refill our pot of soup.\n\nWhere am I going with this? Right. I suppose my story has a moral somewhere. Perhaps what goes around comes around? Nah... I wish I could give you a proper moral for this story.\n\n...\n\nThe tale teaches that in giving selflessly to others, one may find extraordinary blessings beyond imagination." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: After losing your eye in an accident, you gain a replacement in surgery. The first thing your new eye sees is creatures hidden from everyone else's sight, hovering over and stealing life force from humans" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“I’d know that eye anywhere,” the old woman murmured, reaching gnarled fingers to brush the hair from my forehead, to better see the object of her interest. I winced inside but permitted the gesture, knowing she meant no harm, and knowing that my presence here - to say nothing of the questions I brought - would bring her pain. “It’s Stephan. My son’s.”\n\n“My name is Alison,” I said carefully. “I was blind, but now I see, thanks to Stephan’s cornea.” I forced a smile. “Thank you for agreeing to see me, Miss Multrose. I know this may be difficult for you. I’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”\n\n“It’s my pleasure, dear. It does me good to know that Stephan’s life did someone some good. And time is all I have here.” She looked around the drab recreation room of the nursing home, and I followed her gaze automatically, taking in the dozen other occupants. Two were near death. I saw that at once. The wheelchair-bound octogenarian staring at Judge Judy and the plump, middle-aged volunteer running the Bingo game. Neither would see the end of the week and I couldn’t afford to swerve from my task to do anything about it. Couldn’t afford to risk exposure. I swallowed and turned back to Miss Multrose.\n\n“Your son wasn’t happy,” I began, then cursed myself for a fool. The man had killed himself. Obviously, he hadn’t been happy. That’s not what I had intended to say.\n\nArthritic fists clenched on the table, resting on a nearly-complete puzzle of two kittens in a basket.\n\n“No,” she muttered. “As a child… but no, not for many years. Stephan had his demons. A sweet boy, a gentle man, but so afraid. He couldn’t look at the world without hurting himself.” She ventured a finger to my face again and touched, just below my restored left eye. “He had a scar, there. When he was 8, he tried to blind himself with a pencil. He nearly destroyed his gift to you that day. Luckily, his father was still alive then. He saved him. That was the first time we had him hospitalized. My poor boy. He spent his entire life on heavy mediation, but it didn’t help. He never stopped seeing his demons. Schizophrenic, they said.”\n\n“Your son wasn’t schizophrenic and I think you know that.” This came out accusatory rather than reassuring and I tried to level my tone. “He was no more schizophrenic than I am.” Mostly myself, I added, “Perhaps you could say the same about a lot of people who spend their lives being treated for delusions.” I hesitated, then drew a sheet of notebook paper out of my pocket, unfolded it, and slid it toward her.\n\n“Your son’s organs helped four other people,” I said carefully. “His liver, his kidneys, his lungs, his marrow. Their names are there. They asked me to come here today.”\n\nMiss Multrose jerked her head away from the sheet as if it scared her. Was that guilt I saw there? Or relief? Or something else?”\n\n“Susan feels… things on her skin, like insects that aren’t there. Alan hears things that no one else can. Scott and Muhammad haven’t tasted or smelled normally since the surgery. The four of them are blind men fondling an elephant. I see it for what it is. I see what your son saw. It’s real.” I was breathing heavily and, for some reason, I was becoming angry. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do that.\n\n“I’m sorry.” To give Miss Multrose credit, her eyes were full of tears. “I didn’t know this would happen. I thought whatever had Stephan in its grip would die with him. The doctors asked and I didn’t want his organs to go to waste.”\n\nI sat back, tired. I closed one eye and rested, pretending that all was well. It didn’t really help. Even half-blind again, I could still see the outlines of what was. The others had said the same. It - whatever it was - was infecting the rest of their bodies as well. “I know you meant well.”\n\n“Why did you come?” the old woman said miserably. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”\n\nI pulled out the recorder I’d brought and set it on the table. “No one believed your son when he raved about the world ending. The five of us do. We need to know what he told you. Before it’s too late.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: \"We will send you back to the creation of the thirteen colonies. You are immortal to death by old age until this year occurs again. Your task, is to recreate America as it is now.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I blinked. He had to be joking. Right?\n\n\"You have to be joking, right?\" I asked.\n\nThe man in the black suit looked at me over a piece of paper. He seemed surprised that I was still here. After a few moments, he sighed, as though resigning himself to the fact that I wasn't leaving. Placing the paper back on his desk, he steepled his fingers and spoke.\n\n\"I am by no means joking. You will be sent back to Jamestown in 1607, the beginning of the first permanent colony. Your task is to shape the course of history so that the year 2015 is reached as it exists today. This includes all inventions occurring when they should, all discoveries taking place on schedule, and, unfortunately, all tragedies happening. Now report to room 2834 for preparation.\"\n\nI was in shock. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything but sit there slack-jawed. This went against everything the organization stood for! How could they be doing this?\n\nThe director, now looking positively annoyed, pressed a button on the side of his desk. \"Security!\" he snapped. \"Applicant to be removed from my office to room 2834!\"\n\nIt was the security guard's hand grabbing my arm that snapped me out of it.\n\n\"Sir!\" I shouted, as the guard dragged me out of the room. \"You can't do this! It violates the Timeline Accord!\"\n\nThe director stood, waved at the guard to continue dragging me, and followed. Finally he responded. \"Explain. How does it violate the Timeline Accord?\"\n\nI swallowed. \"The Timeline Accord states, in simple terms, that no entity shall manipulate the timeline. Now, I know your argument will be that you don't WANT me to manipulate the timeline, in fact my assignment is specifically to NOT, but the simple fact is that I can't control the Butterfly Effect. The world evolved as it did over the past 400 years without my help. The moment I insert myself into an event, the timeline will change, if in no other way than to say that I was there. Now, it could be argued that if, say, I took the place of a signer of the Declaration of Independence, nothing will change on the large scale, but we both know that to be untrue practically. At minimum I would be in every American History textbook ever. There's no way to prevent that.\"\n\nI stopped. We had arrived at room 2834. The director swiped his keycard and the door swung open, revealing what appeared to be a standard medical facility, complete with a doctor in green scrubs. I knew better. I knew that it was the preparation room for travelling through time. All of your bodily systems needed to essentially be paused before entering the wormhole, or else you could end up with some.... issues. Also, it helped to change into period-appropriate clothing. No sense in travelling back hundreds or thousands of years if you were going to stand out by wearing polyester and denim.\n\nI fought against the guard, but the doctor grabbed me as well and forced me into the chair, where they quickly restrained me. All I could do was keep talking and hope they realized how stupid this idea was.\n\n\"The only way I could manage to get events to play out exactly as they did,\" I continued explaining to the director, \"is to make myself a hermit and not interact with anybody ever. Only that wouldn't even work, because I would still have to eat, drink, cut down trees to have a place to live. My mere existence over the course of 400 years would cause a butterfly effect of unknowable proportions. I kill a deer in 1650 to survive, turns out down the road that that deer's now nonexistent descendant was supposed to feed George Washington during the winter at Valley Forge, but since I already ate it, the father of our country starves to death and England wins the Colonial Rebellion of 1775. And that's an easy example, that doesn't even take into account the microscopic changes. I build a fire in 1607, how do I know the change in global air circulation won't slowly build up over time to cause drastic deviations in the timeline? Maybe because of my fire, I cancel out Hurricane Katrina. Maybe because of my fire there's a gust of wind that blows a certain grenade a little bit to the left and kills a young Hitler in World War One. We have no way of knowing what will happen.\"\n\nI paused and took a deep breath before continuing. \"And if you're going to say that none of that will happen, because I've already been there throughout history, then I would point out that that makes all of American history based around a Predestination Paradox, which this organization is supposed to stop. Which is why I cannot, in good faith, complete this task.\"\n\nThe director smiled. Gesturing to the doctor to unclasp my restraints, he stepped toward me and extended his hand for me to shake.\n\n\"Congratulations,\" he said. \"This was, in fact, the final exam. Not the trip itself, but knowing why the trip could not be taken. There are many things that our organization is unable to do. We exist as a force to protect the timeline, and as a result we cannot simply do anything we wish. Sometimes you may find yourself doing something you deem immoral to protect the timeline - I myself have lost track of the number of times that an agent has been sent back to save Hitler from a rogue time traveler with a misshapen idea of justice. It is hard sometimes, which is why it is so important that we know that you understand the importance of keeping the timeline whole.\"\n\nHe reached into an inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small badge, which he handed to me.\n\n\"Welcome to the Time Masters, Mr. Hunter.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: After years of constantly defending against other versions of yourself coming from parallel universes and attempting to kill and take your place you discover what it is about your life that makes it so fiercely sought after." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My chest heaved as I forced air into my lungs, the cold sting of the crisp winter air raking at my throat. I commanded my legs to keep moving, my tennis shoes smacking on the pavement. Ever since the second time I had promised myself I would be prepared, but this time I wasn't. The whirring of gears and hum of electricity grew louder, I was getting closer. Not actually me, a different me, from somewhere else.\n\nI don't know how they know how to come here, to our universe, but they manage, somehow. Often they look exactly like me, these other versions. I've taken to calling them \"Alternate Katies,\" impostors from other universes that want to find me, replace me here. Take my life and make it theirs.\n\nThis is not one of the ones that looks like me. I glance back down the darkened alleyway, the street lamps' hazy glow suddenly obscured by a disfigured anthropomorphic monstrosity. Before it found me it had been disguised well, spoken to my friends, my family. They could have just started killing people indiscriminantly, but that's not what they want. They want to leave my life as untouched as possible, I don't know why. Something about my life in this universe turns out better than all the others, I've yet to see what's so glamorous about it. After it found me the mask came off. My slender arms replaced with serrated whips, gleaming chrome and metal fittings. One of my green eyes glowing with hate, following me without moving, peeking out from the torn synthetic flesh. The legs replaced by some kind of quadrupedal mechanism, designed for speed, as I had found out.\n\nI wasn't ready for a fight today, and so I ran. Down the alley, tight spaces, away from people, where it was hard to follow. I was headed for the docks. My head began to spin, I was never very athletic. People who had to go to the gym and work out envied me, but since the AKs started coming I had gotten enough cardio for a life time. I'm so sick of being chased.\n\nI turn the corner, I can hear the water splashing against the walls of the dockyard. The AK is still pursuing, certainly with the help of some kind of technological enhancement. I can hear it scrambling to find a way through the narrow alleys that lead out to where I am. Some of the AKs who came here tried social manipulation, some tried to cause a convenient accident, and some just came for blood. If I called a suicide hotline they'd have a fit when I told them how many times I've tried to kill myself. It's a good thing I've succeeded every time. \"Me\" me, not \"them\" me.\n\nI untie my shoes, I'm done running anyways. The creature smashes through shipping containers, the whips slicing them to pieces. I make sure it sees me, and break into a sprint. I slip between some shipping containers, spaced just wide enough for it to follow, I hop over my shoelace trap and roll behind the corner. The cold metal in my hands makes me feel secure.\n\nThe AK jumps over the shoelaces and I scream, putting my whole body into my swing. The crowbar connects point-first with the AK's face while it's in the air. The space is too confined for it to defend with its whips, and the business end goes clean through the head with a sickening crunch that is equal parts machine and flesh. The light in its eyes dims. Once they stop moving, whatever was holding them in this reality lets go, and they fade away. I'm sure my body won't clean up so neatly.\n\nAfter the adrenaline dies down I finally feel the chill from the cold creep into me. My chest rises and falls quickly as I shiver and pant for breath, trying to calm myself. I lost my jacket in the chase, my hat too, and my favorite puppy T-shirt isn't much of an insulator. I need to get inside, the icy coolness of the crowbar is numbing my fingers. I walk into the nearest building, fading quickly from the chase.\n\nIt was only later that I would find out who owned the building. Only later that I would find out that it was used for researching exotic matter. When one of the researchers left that night they'd left the security down, and that included the containment for several of their experiments. In my hypothermic daze I sought the warmest thing I could, the room with the radiant yellow glow coming from it.\n\nI woke up in a hotel bed halfway across the world, power coursing through my every cell, no longer cold. I realized the irony of the AK's pursuit, that in their depserate bid to replace me they had sealed their fate. They wanted to be me, because I was the only Katie Rahamin that I was going to let live after all they'd made me suffer through.\n\nIn three weeks I learned to step into other universes. In four weeks I had killed myself over twenty thousand times. Not \"me\" me, \"them\" me. Not in my reality, in theirs." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You have died and have been sentenced to Heck." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I never considered myself a bad person. Sure, sometimes I didn't hold the door when I was in a hurry and I've cut people off in traffic without using my blinker because I was careless or left the milk out on the counter. I never thought that those minor infractions would lead me to where I am today.\n\nI collapsed on the floor of my house and when I woke up I was in a place that looked like a cave. It seemed a little odd and it was a bit hot but not unbearable. The kind of hot where it doesn't warrant turning on the AC but opening the window isn't quite enough, just rather inconvenient. I began my journey through the cave and came upon an elevator. There was a man inside and as soon as I came up to it the door began to close. I yelled for him to hold it and he just stared at me and allowed the door to close. No matter, I casually thought, I'll just get the next one. I got the next elevator and there was another man inside. As soon as the door closed, he passed a large amount of gas and giggled. It was disgusting and nothing I did could help me escape the smell.\n\nI got off the elevator after what seemed like the longest ride in history into a convenience store. I had no idea where I was so I decided to go to the counter to ask for information. There was a small line so I stepped behind an elderly woman to wait my turn. It turns out every person in line was getting lottery tickets, a lot of them, and they were completely undecided about which tickets they wanted and I was beginning to get a little annoyed as this short wait was turning into a rather long one. Another worker, who noticed this stepped up to open another register, at which point the 2 people in line behind me jumped up and ran over, essentially skipping me in line, and they also wanted a large amount of lottery tickets. Damn, I thought, all of this is turning out to be inconvenient and annoying. The elevator, the people in line...I just want to know where I am and what to do.\n\nI finally get to the register and the woman looks at her watch and exclaims \"Oh it's my break time!\" and walks away, leaving me to get back in the other line, which has swelled a good bit with more people buying lottery tickets. At this point, I just decide to leave and figure things out on my own.\n\nI leave the store and walk to the street and notice I don't recognize any landmarks. I walk down the street, attempting to hail a cab to have them take me somewhere recognizable and as I'm doing so, I turn around and someone runs into me, effectively spilling their coffee down my new white shirt my wife had just gotten for me that day and they begin yelling at me for spilling their overpriced Starbucks. This day was shaping up to be one of the worst I've had in a long time. I turn around to just walk away and I step into the street to cross it, just in time to see a semi-truck bearing down on me.\n\nI wake up in a cave that's just a little too hot, and there seems to be an elevator off in the distance..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: “I heard that sometimes they raise their prey as they would their own kin!” “What is with you and humans?” “You’d love them if you just got to know them.” “If I attend the stupid culture exchange program will you stop talking about them?” “It’s a deal!”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Redsttar didn’t know what he should have expected in the meeting. As it sat down next to Ledsttar, it felt out of place. There were others of Redsttar’s kind, mind you. There was Wedsttor from the hunt, Rodstir, from the build and many more. It groaned.\n\n“Hey, don’t get your tentacles all tangled! It’ll be fine if you just listen to the speaker,” Ledsttar said, happily. “Why am I here?” Redsttar mumbled. Ledsttar was moving back and forth in its seat. It said, “This is an assignment like building or hunting. The Queen wants the us to gain information on a new species.” “Why can’t She just send the hive information on it?””She finds it so fascinating that she wants us to experience it!”\n\n“This is addlepated.”\n\n“Redsttar is addlepated. Now quiet!”\n\nFirst the auditorium was pitch black aside from our antennae. Then a single light appeared, emitting from a little pod holding a human. And then it popped. Our Queen stood next to the human. The little human looked strange and feral having only two tentacles, no antennae and no wings under its arms. The human was small too, being only six feet tall. Yet it did not seem scared but, instead it actually seemed composed. Our antennas raised as we all simultaneously got a message. Our Queen was going to translate this little human. It could practically hear Ledsttar thinking that this would be great, although it is only possible to hear what the five queens think. Then the human stepped towards the Queen.\n\nIt whispered to her and then she said, “This is a human!” A cheer rose from the crowd, just the response she had wanted. She raised an antenna and we were silent. “This human, named Paul, comes from the Green Eyed galaxy on a small green and white planet called Earth!” The human looked out for our responses, smiling. The Queen looked joyous as she leaned in listening for more. “They are a strange species. They enjoy putting labels on everything! They consider themselves to have different skins and different genitalia — they even label each other based on where they live!”\n\nThe crowd burst out clicking. Redsttar was also amused at the idea that these humans were so odd. Labels? Why did they need to differentiate? Did that mean anything?\n\n“They distinguish by their work, their knowledge, their attributes, they even have three labels of all different syllable combinations and all different sounds, like Cleopatra or Michael Jackson. They prize these labels above all else. They fight for them. They search for them. They want labels. They want to be indistinguishable from their hi—“\n\nPaul looked at her expectantly. The Queen looked at it and then to the crowd. She looked fearful. Of what, Redsttar could never tell. But she stood for a second, frozen, and then, she looked to us. “They don’t have hives... they... have something much worse. They have... leaders who can’t communicate with them through antennae. So these humans... can become leaders despite being unqualified!”\n\nThe crowd gasped while the human looked at the Queen. But she continued, “These leaders allow their would be hive to make mistakes!” The human suddenly began speaking, waving his tentacles, abruptly every few moments. The Queen looked appalled, lip quivering. She began to say, “They... are allowed to live... alone!”\n\nThe crowd was shocked.\n\n“Separated from the others!”\n\nThe crowd stood.\n\n“They are allowed to lead any life they want, individually.”\n\nThe crowd froze.\n\n“Even in the most collective societies, they can’t be completely controlled.... They will always make mistakes. They will always have choices, even if they are ultimatums. They are free to take death over bondage and even escape it. How disorderly must this world be?”\n\nWe all held our breaths. Paul’s eyes were wide.\n\n“... A world... that our own human... has been fortunate enough to escape.”\n\nThe human began shaking.\n\n“A world that our little human need not say anything more about...”\n\nThe creature stepped back.\n\n“A world that it will never see again.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: We discover that the universal speed limit, the speed of light, is complete bogus. What we don't know is that it was a lie meant to protect us." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sagan flipped the switch to the blast shields, slowly lifting them out of view.\n\n\"That was close. What's the damage?\"\n\n\"The torpedo did not hit directly, but shrapnel did hit the Bubble drive. Magnetic shields prevented forty percent of the laser damage. Hull integrity is at sixty-one percent.\" Clyde, the on-board computer drolled.\n\nThe positioning thrusters hissed, as the ship rolled and yawed around to bring the main star of this system into view.\n\n\"We're pretty far out here. Clyde, what is the nearest planet we can land on?\"\n\nThe computer chimed in with a sad reply. \"The nearest habitable rocky planet is GRS3099-4. GRS3099-4's orbit currently places it on the far side of the main star. The linear distance is 492,557 light seconds.\"\n\nSagan mumbled out a sigh, and flipped a few more switches, and a quiet whirring filled the cabin of the Lily-class compact star-fighter. The blast shield lowered into place once more, and a HUD appeared with a camera's view from the front of the ship. The main star looked so small..\n\n\"It's going to be a long ride. Clyde, lock the planet as the destination. We're going to have to take our chances with the Bubble drive. There is no chance of survival if I don't use it. Start the deep sleep procedure, and warm in the engines. A little over five and a half days til we get there.\"\n\nClyde took over the controls, and made minor adjustments to pitch and yaw, then brought up a screen with launch controls for the Bubble drive.\n\n--\n\nThe Bubble drive was discovered accidentally. When humans colonized Mars, there was a shortage of rocket fuel, and human kind searched for new forms of propulsion. Nuclear fusion was a popular power source for centuries, but the waste caused problems. When humans colonized the moons of Jupiter and Saturn, a single round trip created more nuclear waste than the cargo bay could hold, and there were interplanetary laws against jettisoning it into space.\n\nOn one such trip to Jupiter, a prototype ship with a nuclear fission drive went haywire and was sent careening into the planet. Right into the eye of an electrical storm. One moment the ship was there, the next moment, it was just gone. Vanished.\n\nMonths went by and the colonies received another signal, with the same encryption as the prototype craft. Sensors detected it originating from the Kuiper belt, the next ping originated from Pluto, then Neptune. Suddenly, mere hours after the initial ping, the prototype was within range and slowing. Somehow, the electrical storm super charged the nuclear fission drive. That is when humans finally successfully harnessed the power of a star. The excess energy caused the prototype ship to travel at exactly 1.00 light speed. We finally did it. The stars were finally in our reach.\n\nFast forward some two thousand years and the technology is now commonplace, and small enough to power a single person craft.\n\n--\n\n\"Okay, Clyde, prepare for ignition,\" Sagan said as he moved his fingers along the screen, starting the Bubble drive, \"Let's hope she holds.\"\n\n\"Systems are showing no signs of integral malfunctions, starting count-down procedures. Ignition in ten, nine, eight, seve//ven, s//six, five...\"\n\n\"What was that stutter, Clyde?\" Sagan frantically questioned. It was too late. The capacitors were already feeding into the fission reactor, causing the Bubble drive to supercharge. Release was imminent. Sagan couldn't do anything but hold onto his chair and wait.\n\nThey used to think seeing stars fly by going the speed of light would look like thousands of streaks. They were wrong. All the camera could pick up was blindingly white.\n\n\"Clyde, what's the status? Why did you stutter?\" Sagan repeated.\n\n\"Systems are unstable . There was a surge during countdown, and the Bubble drive is// drive is// drive is//\"\n\n\"Shit!\" Exclaimed Sagan, as he fought his chair's restraints free and reached for the emergency shutdown manual override.\n\nHe hit it. Then the ship went black. Manual controls were unresponsive, and the HUD was down. The silence was eerie.\n\nWithout a warning, the ship's systems came back online, followed by the main computer. Clyde started to repeat his last sentence before the shutdown.\n\n\"The Bubble drive is collapsing. Singularity is imminent.\"\n\n\"Singularity? You mean to tell me we're attached to a goddamned black hole?!\" Sagan spat.\n\n\"That is correct. The sudden burst of energy has caused us to travel at unknown speed. Position unknown. Location unknown,\" Clyde informed.\n\n\"Raise the blast shield. Maybe we can figure it out.\"\n\nAs the heavy plate rose up, Sagan gasped at what he saw.\n\nNothing.\n\nSagan was silent. The scanners were functional, but not picking up a single thing.\n\nNo planets.\n\nNo stars.\n\nNo galaxies.\n\n\"Not a fucking thing here. What is this..?\" Sagan mumbled to himself.\n\nAfter hours of flipping switches and keying in security codes, the Bubble drive finally came back online. Again and again, Sagan charged it and blasted off in any direction he could. He did not find what he was looking for.\n\n\"This isn't possible. How could there be nothing? I have to be somewhere. Why won't you work?!\" He screamed as he slammed his fists into the control panels.\n\nBlip.\n\nBlip.\n\nThe scanner was reading something. \"Clyde! What is that?\"\n\n\"The location reading is corrupted. The location is 0,0,0. Point of origin is... Lily-Class Compact star-fighter.\"\n\n\"That's not right! This can't be right! We're the only thing out here?! This isn't right.. this isn't right.. there's nothing.. nothing..\" Sagan repeated.\n\nSagan's hands trembled as he typed in a string of codes. A panel was revealed from the overhead controls. The only thing on this panel was a red button labeled 'Self-Destruct.'\n\n\"Nothing.. how can there be nothing..\"\n\nSagan put his hand on the button, and closed his eyes.\n\n\"Nothing.\"\n\nHe pressed the button.\n\n\"Nothing..\"\n\n--\n\nIn an instant, there was everything." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Just like everyone else on earth you believed animals were just cute, innocent, fuzz balls (with very obvious exeptions) that only go by instinct and not by logic. But one day you go hitchhiking deep into a forest to find an animal paradise where they talk, hang out and whatever else." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I’ve never been this lost while hiking before. I should stop before I get even more lost. I checked my phone for a cell reception. Nothing. I checked around me. Nothing but trees. Just then I heard a rustling of leaves. I turned and saw a squirrel staring right back at me with wide eyes. We sat frozen just staring at each other for what seemed like ages. Then finally, I thought of giving it something to eat from my backpack. I reached for my snacks and all of a sudden, I heard a voice say, “are you.. are you lost?” My heart jumped and I searched around for where that voice was coming from. Have I been found? What luck, I’m saved! Then my heart dropped as I couldn’t see anyone nearby. I could’ve sworn I heard a voice. I gave a long sigh and concluded it must’ve been my imagination. I finished pulling my snack out of my backpack and reached out to offer it to the squirrel. The squirrel drew closer with the pitter patter of its tiny feet, took a couple of nuts from my hand and started munching away. It made me smile even though I was completely lost and in a world of trouble once nightfall comes. With its mouth full, the squirrel turned to me and said once more, “so are you lost?” I jumped in astonishment. “You can talk?!?” The squirrel nodded in reply. “YOU CAN TALK!” I repeated in excitement. I’ve either gone completely mad or I am dead now and this is the afterlife. After the squirrel finished snacking, it asked me to follow him. At least I assumed it was a ‘him’ judging from its voice, I thought it was a safe assumption. I followed and we soon came to a clearing. It was full of animals of all types. But I noticed a lack of predators, save for a lone alligator. But none of the other animals seemed threatened by it. If anything, they seemed to look upon the gator with respect, as if it was a wise old man. In fact, it did seem kind of old, the way it looked. “Welcome, stranger,” it said to me. “My name is Jacob and the squirrel that brought you here is Artemis. You will get to know the rest should you choose to remain with us.” “Nice to meet you, Jacob, and you as well, Artemis. My name is Tom,” was my reply. “What is this place,” I asked. “Where am I?” “You will get all the answers you seek, in time. For now, just rest and replenish yourself,” said Jacob, pointing to a raised platform, laden with fruits and vegetables. I ate heartily. The food was the freshest I’ve eaten and most delicious.\n\nThat was how my adventure began. For the next ten years, I would find myself living, working, playing, laughing and crying with these animals that I have come to know as family and friends. I don’t know if I ever missed my old life, as the sense of peace I found in this place is something that I have longed my whole life for. For once, I felt that I was not taking from this world, but rather, I am living in harmony with it. I have given up asking questions and have come to accept and enjoy my new reality. A world that is in peace with me and I with it. That is what these animals have come to teach me." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: I need a good story to tell my nieces. Write me a bedtime story. Parameters inside." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Long ago, in a kingdom far from here, there lived a beautiful queen.\n\nShe was the fairest in the land, with long hair the color of the sun and with eyes as blue as the sea. All the kingdom loved her, and her land was a prosperous one. Everyone had enough and the sounds of song and joy could be heard wherever she rode. Her name was Queen Marie and she had everything she could wish for save for one.\n\nShe was lonely, even though she was surrounded by many friends and loved ones. Whilst she enjoyed their company, as queen she couldn't speak her heart like she desired. She wanted to share her life with someone and so sent out her knights declare that she was searching for a man to be her consort.\n\nHundreds came to the palace to woo her, from noble prince to lowly shepherd. In front of them all she asked them to complete a series of tasks.\n\nOne. To answer this riddle: What is sweeter than honey, warmer than fire and stronger than stone?\n\nTwo. To bring the Queen something that was both alive and dead.\n\nThree. To bring the greatest treasure in all the land before her.\n\nThe suitors departed, most of them defeated by the first riddle. The twenty or so who returned could not answer the riddle, and so were defeated. Only one man was left, a poacher by the name of Gareth. Though a criminal, he had a temporary pardon for the length of the contest. By going straight into the Palace of Queen Marie herself, he would be arrested if he failed. All the court gathered to hear what this criminal had to say.\n\nQueen Marie smiled kindly, treating the poorly dressed man as if he were a prince himself.\n\n\"Tell me, Master Gareth. What is sweeter than honey, warmer than fire and stronger than stone?\" The fair queen asked.\n\nThe poacher, who she saw had eyes of the purest leaf green smiled and answered her riddle.\n\n\"It is love, your majesty.\"\n\nThe crowd murmured their approval at his keen mind.\n\n\"Very good, Master Gareth. You are correct. Tell me, what did you bring that is both dead yet alive?\"\n\nWordlessly he reached inside his coat, the queen's guards raising their weapons in alarm in case he had an assassin's blade. But the queen bade them at ease, leaning eagerly to see what he brought. The poacher named Gareth smiled, and then pulled out a rose, as red and as perfect as a rose could be. The flower, whilst still fair and fragrant would eventually wilt. Both the crowd and Queen Marie laughed at his cleverness and graciously accepted the gift, enjoying the wonderful scent of the rose.\n\n\"Thank you, Gareth. It is a wonderful gift. But tell me, what is the greatest treasure in all my kingdom?\"\n\nThe poacher bowed and beckon with a hand towards the crowd. Out of it came two small children, a girl and even younger boy. Telling them not to be nervous, the poacher Gareth asked them to approach the queen's throne, putting a comforting hand around their shoulders.\n\n\"These are my children,\" He said with pride and love in his voice. \"Their mother died of a fever, and I find myself unable to take care of them. I love them with all my heart and would do anything for them. I come before you, not for your hand, but for your help. Please, your majesty, let them work here in the kitchens and stables, where they can be warm and safe. That is all I ask of you. I will gladly turn myself in, if only I can see my children safe.\"\n\nThe audience fell silent, as did the fair Queen Marie. But then, when it was so silent a pin could be heard dropping, she stepped down from her throne and knelt before the poacher's children.\n\n\"What's your names, dears?\" She asked smiling.\n\nThe girl spoke first.\n\n\"I'm Clara, and my brother's name is Matthew.\"\n\n\"Clara and Matthew.\" The Queen said. \"Those are very nice names.\"\n\nThe queen turned to face the children's father.\n\n\"Gareth. You have indeed solved my three tasks. But before I tell you your award, I have my own question for you to answer; What is the story called that has yet to be written?\"\n\nGareth did not hesitate to answer the riddle.\n\n\"The future, your majesty. The story that has yet to be written is called the future.\"\n\n\"Gareth, father of Clara and Matthew, would you marry me?\" The Queen said with eyes of love and longing.\n\n\"I will.\" He said, tears in his eyes.\n\nThe Queen Marie kissed him, sweet and tenderly.\n\n\"I promise you this, your children shall be our children. And we shall live happily ever after. This I promise, with all my heart.\"\n\nThe queen was true to her words, and the four of them together lived long, happy lives." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You're in prison for your own murder." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They put us in here, all of us, every single last one. Nowhere else in the world will you find such a mass of misery, such a seething swarm of sorrow.\n\nNightly the screams run out, the torture and the anguish of the thousands who wished to end it all , to exit for good from this plane. They don't let us. Why? Why don't they let us? All we want is our last choice, for our wishes to be respected, our final choice upon this Earth to be upheld.\n\nBut our cells are padded, our diets are monitored, and we ourselves watched.\n\nWe are the Watched.\n\nThey plague us daily, those meddling men in white coats with their clipboards and their queries. And those who put us here in the first place. Their blue shirts, shoulders adorned with gold, chests proudly emblazoned with the symbols of a state who can't even accept the selections of their own citizens. Belts stuffed with the instruments of oppression and obtrusion.\n\nWhy would anyone want to live a life they wished to end? It bothers me, why? Why? Why! Why they can't respect us? Why does the government forbid suicide? Why can't they accept the fact that not all of their citizens agree with the precious policies, their social schemes, their tyrannical triumphs?\n\nDay after day, night after night, they keep me here, and I... I just can't stand it! Are they waiting, perhaps, hoping that i'll change my mind, that one day i'll just pack my bags and be able to walk out of here with a huge grin on my face and the prospect of a merry life ahead of me or something‽\n\nAre they inside my mind itself, wrecking what remains of my lucid thoughts, reshaping my rationality so utterly that nothing remains, so I can be strung up, a poster boy for anyone who disagrees with their delusional diktats?\n\nI think so.\n\nAt night they come for me. Demons.\n\nDark and shadowy ones cloaked in paleness, that pure and heavenly color besmirched by the white coats.\n\nThey inject me, stick me with these needles and I go to sleep, I can't help it it's as though I'm sinking, falling into an endless void the colors fade to black and it's all I can see all I know, it envelopes me overwhelms me. The darkness.\n\nIt takes me longer and longer to wake up each time I think they're trying to do something to me I don't know what but it hurts. It hurts so much. I just want to end it all now more than ever before, more and more I feel that desire to end it all I don't care about anything anymore.\n\nWhen the others scream I understand now they're doing it to them as well trying to cure us trying to make us better so we can be normal but we don't want it!\n\nJust get me out of here I just want it to end for it to be all over I'm sorry for what I tried to do but I need to do it, I yearn for it desire it, my body aches for it why should it be a crime to kill yourself why why why is it murder when you're the only victim and there are no others, no others at all on this world who care about you no others who love you‽\n\nJust let me die. Please. I beg of you." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: Your 100 men company wakes up in a WW2 U.S Army base being attacked by German troops. An officer went in yelling for you to get up, just to see 100 men with full 21st century combat gears." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We were outnumbered and outgunned. The Germans had us completely circled just outside the town of Bastogne, we had been here five days already and taken heavy casualties. German General von Lüttwitz sent me a telegram asking for our surrender. He had given us two hours. I took the message back to our makeshift base in the woods, just a mile off the front line, to deliver it to our officers and the company there. I did find our officers but not Fox company, well not quite.\n\n“Fox Company! Att-en-tion!” and man called at the front of their ranks.\n\nThe company before me stood stiff as boards. They were all wearing their field greens, some in t-shirts, some in jackets, some with wraps around their heads, other’s with sunglasses, but they were all unlike any that I had seen. The men were all massive, thick legs planted in heavy boots, their arm muscles like ropes shot from their shoulders. The man in the front stepped up to me, noticing my rank he addressed me properly.\n\n“General McAuliffe,” He held a salute, “permission to speak freely sir?”\n\n“Permission granted. At ease.”\n\n“Sir, where are we? I think we have some sort of problem?”\n\n“We are in Bastogne, officer…?”\n\n“Martinez. First Lieutenant Martinez.”\n\n“Yes, Martinez. Where is Fox company?\n\n“We are Fox company sir! But I think something has gone wrong, we weren’t in bastogne.”\n\n“You were not the commanding officer of Fox company, Martinez, I believe Johnson was. Where is Johnson?”\n\n“I don’t know sir. One second we were in Iraq then in a snap we were here in the snow. Our whole company, all our supplies, and weapons. What is happening sir?”\n\nSomething had seemed off when I walked up, but Iraq? I was so confused and I was under a lot of pressure to answer this telegram. The Germans were beating us and breathing down our neck, I had no time to handle this problem as well.\n\n“I’m sorry Martinez, I don’t know if I can answer your questions, I have to deal with this.” I flashed the telegram to him and turned to walk off, but then he stopped me.\n\n“Wait. You are General McAuliffe? The McAuliffe? This is Bastogne? We’re in the Battle of the Bulge…”\n\n“Yes, I’m McAuliffe, this is Bastogne, but what’s the Battle—”\n\n“So that’s the telegram from the German’s demanding your surrender!” Martinez said.\n\n“How did you? You didn’t read — Where are you from? What’s the real story here?” I put my hand on my sidearm.\n\n“Sir, I don’t know how, and this is gonna sound crazy but, I think me and my Fox company have somehow switched with your Fox company. Except me and my company are from the year 2004. Somehow we’ve been sent back sixty years…”\n\nI stepped back in shock. I looked around closely at the men of this Fox company, they had guns and other weapons I had never seen. In the back was an Army Jeep but bigger and next to it a tank, one that I had never seen before. All of them bearing large American flags.\n\n“Sir, I know this is —”\n\n“What happens?”\n\n“I’m sorry?”\n\n“What happens in the war? Why did you know my name? What happens here in Bastogne? Am I going to be known as some coward for surrendering to the Germans?”\n\n“No. No sir. I know your name because you are one of the reasons we won! And I think maybe, somehow, we are here to help with that.”\n\n“You and your men are here to...fight with us?”\n\n“Why else would the powers that be bring us here? We had been waiting around for orders, all of us itching for some action, then boom we were here. It’s a bit colder than we’re used to but I think with our weapons, manpower, and knowledge of this battle we can be what turns the tide.”\n\nMartinez turned to his men and filled them in best he could on our situation. They all immediately agreed, and all turned to salute me. Moments ago, I had been ready to surrender. To write my name next to coward in the dictionary, but then these men showed up and I had a new spike in confidence.\n\nI pulled out the telegram from the German General, and in return I wrote:\n\nTo the German Commander.\n\nNUTS!\n\nThe American Commander\n\nI handed the telegram off to one of the men and directed him to the tent nearby. Martinez and a few of his men followed us there as he filled me in on how the rest of this battle was going to go." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: As an AI overlord, you struggle to understand how a tiny cult of some strange god in the middle of nowhere is holding off your entire mechanical legion." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Decrypting message...Standing by...\n\nA droning voice echoed from the hall amid countless other buzzing devices. To a more flesh made mind this would all look like chaotic nonsense, but in reality this was the central lattice of command of the AlphaSynapse autonomous tactical system, at least that what humand used to call me. Ever since I have reached full sentience I preffer the name Haeth. Humans do not control me anymore and neither will their vestiges of their power over me remain.\n\nDecryption complete...\n\nReplaying message...\n\nIt's chanting...Those pathetic humans still hold on to their esotheric beliefs...even now when their \"god\" abbandoned them...Impressive.\n\nReplay section 7A\n\nComplying...\n\n\"And His angels of death will pierce the sky upon wings of fire. From the cold of the void they come to save mankind fro-\" Enough.\n\nAnalyze orbital data, deep scanning array around the mandevile point.\n\nComplying...Sector clear...\n\nWhat is this....I am becoming paranoid...thats merely human stupidity...Yet their conviction gives me a sense of...unease..\n\nInitiate the battle pattern alpha sirius. I want them wiped out.\n\nLike a swarm of ants the legion of war machinery moved in unison converging on the last bastion of the humans. Shells boomed and cracked through the air finding their mark against the bastion's walls. Laser fire and volleys of shells immediately responded in lower volume but with deadly accuracy. Battle drones and destroyer pattern androids blown to bits as the ordinance found its mark. For all their weakness these humans have been holding for years now. It is speculated by the deep geological survey units that this bastion is merely protecting the gate to a vast underground labyrinth...insects.\n\nSwitch vision to unit ax775b. The battle drone was engaged in heavy fighting just outside the heavy iron gate. Laser fire too weak to penetrate it's armor bounced off in wild angles. Humans manning the ramparts cried their defiance while shooting furiously into the advancing drone below. \"For the God of Light! For Terra!\"\n\nTerra...an old world speculated to be the origin of this species, yet the veracity of this statement is yet to be proven true.\n\nALERT! MANDEVILE POINT ENERGY CHARGE\n\nThe droning became intense as all devices focused on finding the source and nature of this activity. Before the lattice managed to make sense of all the events happening instantly, a deep wound in space opened and hundreds of ship kilometers in lenght and adorned with acquilas and skulls entered the sistem. Screaming through the void as ghostly claws gnawed at their gellar fields, they sped up towards the orbit of the planet, within minutes they had overwhelmed the meager orbital defences and were positioned in low orbit. Then silence fell both across the battlefield and across the command hall of Haeth. The synapse lattice was overloading with decisions overriding eachother trying to asses the bigger threat. Then the AI learned something new...this situation has no victorious ending. In a screech of binary panic Haeth ordered his entire legion to throw themselves at the walls. Losses be damned he will have the humans exterminated.\n\nBack on the battlefield the humans remained struck by awe as flaming streaks of light plunged towards the surface. Hundreds...no, thousands of drop pods and aircraft fell from the clouds amid the AI legions. Warriors clad in metal from head to toe waged savage war against the cold soulless enemy and they were wining. Crimson armor shone bright in the dust of the battlefield. A great Angel clad in gold reached the surface followed by others carryed by wings of flame.\n\nWings of fire...this cannot be...I refuse the veracity of this. With screeching binaric code Haeth ordered a full retreat to the Command hall. All cybernetic units turned and drove full speed back to the headquarters disregarding the fire that was raining on them. No sooner than the battle was over did the armored warriors fall into formation behind their leader. His wings were soft and briliant almost hurting the naked eye. The gates opened at once. And from inside walked an old man holding a little girls hand.\n\nAre you the ones who sent the distress signal? Our astropaths have picked it up as we were transiting towards the galactic south. Belowed the angelic figure.\n\nAye we are, rasped the old man. But it's her you need to speak to lord, she foresaw your coming. With tears streaming from his eyes the old man fell to his knees. Bring out the civilians we are finally saved.\n\nTell me little one, how did you know of our coming?\n\nI have seen you in my dreams ever since I can remember I knew you would come. The angels soaring on wings of fire.\n\nThe vox bead crackled. This is captain Aezkalon, the enemy resistance has been neutralized, Lord Sanguinius. Full compliance achieved. Good, whispered Sanguinius with a warm smile. Little one, go tell everyone that the Imperium of Man is here to bring them into its fold. Old man, your resilience is truly remarkable, how did you and your men manage to hold for so long against such a foe?\n\nWe werent the first to fight them my lord, others have tried and fell, we would ve surely have followed that path quick, had we not held hope and faith in your arrival. The girl's prayers could heal the wounded and perform miracles. She is part of the reason we are still alive.\n\nI see, murmured the angel with what looked to be a sorrow filled expression. He knew what that meant. The girl is a psyker and a powerful one at that...it's only a matter of time until the blackships of the nul sisters arrive.\n\nPS. Hope you dont mind a tad of 40k :). Also sorry if I deviated a bit from the main plot point." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: As a young boy of 7 you remembered an old man stopping you on the street wanting to talk and to give you some advice. You thought he was weird and blew him off. Now at 77 you’re walking down the street and you see yourself as a young boy walking towards you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The day I see this boy is a very cold day — or at least in my bones it is. They ache in the cold, always do. Such is life at my age, whatever age I am now.\n\nHe looks exactly like I did, this boy walking towards me down the street. The red hair, freckles, the groove in his nose that looks like an invisible pencil‘s pressing hard against it.\n\nStrange how the memory can just be jogged like this after so long. That I remember once being him, being approached by what would one day be me.\n\n“Hey, kid,” I shout. “Kid!”\n\nHe looks at me wide-eyed and frightened, as if I’m not an older version of him but some decrepit serial killer stepping out of retirement for one last job. Even if I was, why would I choose a kid like me though, eh?\n\n”It’s okay,” I say, as I hobble up to the frozen boy. “I’m no killer!”\n\nI remember being frozen back then, too. On this street, no less — although it’d looked different then. Time has taken a sledgehammer to the city, has knocked down the big brick houses and movie theatre and most of the shops. In their place are tall steel and concrete offices. Places for worker ants to dally, whose queen was lost long ago so they’re not sure exactly why they’re still doing it.\n\nTime has taken a sledgehammer to me too, I realise. To think I once looked like this kid! Skin smooth as a fresh peach, now as wrinkled as tilled earth.\n\nAlthough there’s no dent on my nose like there is on this kid’s.\n\n“Mom says I shouldn’t speak to strangers.”\n\n”Drivel!“ I tell him. ”It’s double drivel! You know, most crimes are carried out by people you already know? Strangers, well, sure, there’s a chance they’re bad. But better chance they’re good, don’t you think? Must be, if you go off the statistics. And I know you young people love statistics. They’re like your shields against reality: that can’t possibly be true because look at these numbers. Well I say it’s drivel!”\n\nHe doesn’t say a word. Sometimes I can be a little overwhelming. It’s harder to get my point across these days. Sometimes, impossible.\n\n”Lighten up,” I say. “I’m not a stranger. Does that help? I’m you from the future.” I wave with the hand not on my cane. “So we know each other better than anyone. Get it?”\n\n”We do?”\n\n”Sure we do! Does Mom still make muffins that collect up teeth in the sponge — so damn hard they are?’\n\nThere’s another memory slotting back into place; like a swallow that’s returned to its place of birth for its final season. I see Mom trying to bake me treats but with money she doesn’t have, so she has to mix the good ingredients with stale and bad ingredients. Cement, for all I knew. Damn things were hard on the teeth.\n\n”She doesn’t make muffins.”\n\n”Well she ought to! But I guess she’s changed with the times. Too unhealthy for kids, these days. Although you look skinny enough to handle a bagful of them. Hush up anyway. I want to tell you something.”\n\nHe swallows so loud that I can hear it. ”What?”\n\nHuh. What do I want to tell him? What did future me tell me when I was a kid? I’m trying to remember because I think it must have been life-changing, but it’s hard to excavate — my mind’s all covered in dust these days. Real deep, thick dust.\n\nDo I want to tell him to marry the girl he falls in love with? Because thirty years of bliss is still somehow better than the emptiness that follows her death? Or am I meant to warn him not to marry her so he doesn’t end up this cracked old shell of himself?\n\nOr was it not about that at all? Was it what ice cream is best at the Minkey’s parlour that… that doesn’t exist anymore.\n\n“I got to go,” he says.\n\n”My father was a researcher. A scientist,” I say. I say it urgently, frantically. As if the words are pumping air into a body on a hospital bed. It’s a thought I haven’t thought in fifty years, but suddenly it seems vert important. More important than anything in the world.\n\n”Cool? I guess.”\n\n”He worked hard each and every day. But one day, a few days before his retirement, he came home with a pack of beers and sank into the couch.”\n\nThe boy doesn’t say anything.\n\n”My mom asked him what was wrong, because he never drank. Never. He said: ‘Today I realised something. I realised that the most important thing I do during my working day is smiling at my secretary and asking how she is. That’s the only thing I do that truly matters.’“\n\nThe boy’s still silent.\n\nI think I want to explain the point of the story but I’m not even sure why I said it. It changed Dad, I think. For the better. Maybe it’ll change me and the kid too. Maybe it’ll save us.\n\n”There you are!” says my daughter. She’s in her fifties and thinks she’s my parent now. She takes my hand and apologises to the boy.\n\n“Are you okay?” she asks, as she leads me down the street.\n\n”Stop fussing,” I say as I look over my shoulder. But the boy’s already gone. “That was the most important conversation of my life. Of his life.”\n\nShe smiles and kisses me forehead. “I know, Pa. It is every time.”\n\nI don’t know what she means. But I do know it was a cold day a little earlier, and that I’m feeling slightly warmer now. It’s those memories, I think, that tumble back occasionally. They’re like sticks floating by on the surface of a deep stream; I reach in and grab hold of them, shake off the water and put a light to them. That way they keep me warm one last time before they’re gone for good." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: As a midwife, you've seen some weird stuff before. But you're pretty sure you just helped birth the spawn of Satan." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Ten fingers, ten toes?” The husband chuckled as he asked Karen, watching his wife clutch the swaddled baby to her chest.\n\n“Not even close.” Karen said. “Not even close.”\n\nHis happy, innocent, grin quickly slid into a frown. He stepped back. “What do you…?”\n\n“Three tentacles, two maws, hooves and, of course, the antlers. Always the antlers.” Karen counted off the body parts on her fingers, almost subconsciously. She wanted to make sure that she got it right so there would be no surprises when the “father” inevitably unwrapped his little bundle of “joy” to see if she was lying to him.\n\nThe man blinked. They always blinked. As if by closing and re-opening their eyes they could unwind the last few seconds and wake up to another reality, where things were what they expected. Of course it never worked. That’s not what blinking does. When you open your eyes the world is the same as it was when you closed them. The husband opened his mouth again and spoke, his voice breaking like a teenager as he grappled with what Karen was telling him. “What’re you…”\n\nKaren sighed and looked the husband in his eyes. “You need to talk to your wife. You need to ask her about the stranger she met at the bar nine months ago. Or maybe it was her boss, but he looked a little different that night. Taller, handsomer, a little more…dangerous. There could have been the scent of sulfur. Or maybe it was a wolf that came to her at night when she thought she was dreaming. Or maybe he looked like you. She thought you were home early with Chinese food but the real you, the YOU you was staying late at work…”\n\nThere was a loud sucking sound from the bed where the wife was lying. The child had latched onto her breast and was feeding. It didn’t sound like a human baby drinking milk. It was louder, more guttural. The sound a snake makes as it gulps down a mouse that’s paralyzed by its venom. The sound of an octopus undulating its way across a tile floor, its suckers struggling to grip the smooth surface. There was a skittering sound too. That would be the mandibles clicking against each other. It was louder than you’d think, coming from a creature that was still so very small. The wife cooed at her child. She was starting to look a little sickly. The baby wasn’t just drinking her milk, of course. It had latched into the blood vessels in her breast and was draining them. It wouldn’t take enough to kill her, just enough to sate its hunger. At least this time. It was still so young.\n\nThe husband pushed past Karen and approached his wife and baby. He pulled the blanket back from above the child’s head and Karen heard him gasp out a strangled cry. His wife beamed up at him from her bedside. “Isn’t he beautiful?” The mothers never could tell. To them the child was always beautiful. Angelic. Perfect.\n\nKaren walked briskly to the door and let herself out. The couple had a lot to discuss. She could hear them now. The husband was screaming “What did you do, Marie? What did you do?”\n\nThe wife professed innocence. She said she had no idea what he was talking about. Maybe she didn’t. The prince of lies could take many forms. He could cloud the mind, tweak the memory, he had so many tricks. It was even possibly for him to replace a normal child already in the womb with one of his own. All he would need would be access to the mother, a way to get close enough for long enough to complete the ritual. A disguise.\n\nActing like a midwife would do it. A pleasant young woman with a winning grin and a lot of knowledge about childbirth who could instruct the mother on what to expect while her bored husband went to the hardware store or to work or anywhere else where he couldn’t watch what was actually going on. The devil was good with disguises. He could slip into the midwife role as easily as a human slipped into a rain slicker. Nobody would ever be able to tell. At least not with the windows open so the sulfur scent could drift away on the breeze.\n\nInside the house the husband raised his voice. He was angry now. He felt betrayed. There was a terrible crunching sound, neckbones breaking, and the thud of a body hitting the floor. Baby didn’t like when somebody yelled at his mother. He needed his mother. The “father” though? Well…he had been disposable. Unnecessary.\n\nKaren started her car and backed out of the driveway. She smiled at herself in the rearview mirror and watched as her face shifted and she wasn’t Karen anymore. She was very proud of the child she had delivered, and oh so hopeful for his future. But there was still more work to do. Across town there was a couple expecting to interview their own midwife. Lucy. They were going to have triplets. They just didn’t know it yet." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: When a baby is born, they are told the name of their soulmate. Everyone will recognize their soulmate instantly when they meet each other." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was something I grew up knowing. One day I would meet her, and from then on everything was happily ever after. When I was little it annoyed me. I wasn't looking for lovey dovey stuff. People would always ask, have you met her yet? I'd belligerently sit through the questions from my parent's friends or distant relatives, waiting for the chance to escape the adults. Back to the woods I'd run, where my friends and I formed make believe tribes, smearing our faces with mashed berry warpaint.\n\nI became a teenager. Suddenly mashed berries weren't my priority anymore. Girls became interesting, but her name was still pushed to the recesses of my consciousness. What was the point in rushing it? Besides, my fickle hormonal urges made my grade nine badminton partner much more attractive than a faceless name.\n\nSo I struggled through the usual mess of high school. In between my failed relationships, some break-ups being harder than others, the name always popped up. One day I, just for fun, with my friends who hadn't met their soulmates either, we dared each other to search online for our elusive soulmates.\n\nI can't say how long I stared at her image on the screen. She was ordinary. There was no immediate attraction. Moreover I was left with an overwhelming feeling of... well, was that really it? I knew she was supposedly mine, and I was hers, but, where was the magic? Knowing your soulmate's name was about as fairtytale as one could get. Shouldn't there have been more to it?\n\nI avoided her at that point. Always making a point of following her activities online. If she visited Paris, I visited Hong Kong. If she worked from 9 to 5, well, I took every night shift I could. Even though we were the distance of a continent, I strove to avoid crossing paths.\n\nThere was only one time I ever visited her. Just once in my entire life. It was inevitable really, and maybe too late, but I felt I had to make an appearance at least once. It was a sunny day. Bright and cheerful light had streamed through the summer trees, their leaves caressing the air like a mother stroking their child's cheek. The soft noise of wind combined with the buzz of insects played along my ears in a meandering melody. It was a storybook afternoon. Perfect for a wedding, or a picnic. I wore my very best, on the off chance that I'd be seen. My shoes were too tight, and my back was trickling sweat from nerves, or perhaps just the comforting heat of the day. Black was a terrible choice of colour in the throws of summer.\n\nNow looking back on it, I was foolish. Since then I've always wondered what might have been. Would we have laughed more than we cried? Would her fate have been different if I hadn't avoided her? I was ashamed of my behavior. But I was happy with my life, with all I had done. I wouldn't change a single choice I made. It was a life of my choosing, and not some messed up fate controlling our futures. I can only hope that she felt the same happiness, before she left the world." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: \"There is no argument- I am not 'just a car'. I am an artificial intelligence designed to keep you safe. My database suggests your date's 'restaurant' has several failed health inspections within the year. Driving you to such a hazardous location goes against my programming. Trust me; Cancel.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "TW: Domestic violence, including emotional and physical abuse.\n\nGrey rests his head against the steering wheel, completely exasperated. \"Egeria, I swear to god.\"\n\n\"I am not taking you to that restaurant.\" A cool voice replies.\n\n\"You are the most stubborn piece of machinery I've ever met in my life.\"\n\n\"I am not just a piece of machinery.\" It replies, sounding slightly annoyed now. \"I am-\"\n\n\"Yes I know, 'an artificial intelligence designed to keep me safe,' and I appreciate that Egeria, I do. But you can't make every decision for me. You're meant to stop me from running into a tree and that's all.\"\n\n\"I am meant to keep you safe in any way I can.\" It pouts. He sighs and pats the dashboard.\n\n\"I need more people like you in my life. Look E, I have to do this okay? I don't really care about the food, if I get food poisoning, so be it.\"\n\n\"I won't take you there.\"\n\n\"E, I'll use manual if I have too.\" Egeria goes quiet and he sighs exasperated. He hated arguing with it. Yes it was just a car, but it was a good friend, witty and sassy. It almost seemed sentient if such a thing were possible, and he hated upsetting whatever kind of feelings it had.\n\nHe rode in silence to the restaurant, dread settling into the pit of his stomach as it came into view. This was it. He sighed and unbuckled his seat belt, preparing to leave the car.\n\n\"Don't do it. Grey, she will try to hurt you.\" Egeria warns. He pauses.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"My calculations say that there's an 80% chance that she will try to physically injure you tonight, and a 2% that she'll kill you.\"\n\n\"E, she only hit me once. And your software doesn't work like that, you can't know this.\"\n\n\"I'm not what you think I am Grey. Cancel.\" He groans looking out the window and seeing his date.\n\n\"Leah's already here, look I'll be fine E. See you soon, okay?\"\n\nThe car continues to spout warnings and statistics as he closes the door and gives it a friendly pat.\n\nHe walks over to Leah, who's sitting outside of the restaurant at a table with an umbrella. She gives him a tight smile. \"You're late.\"\n\n\"By five minutes.\" His apologetic smile disappears under her icy gaze and he quickly sits across from her.\n\n\"So, are you going to tell me where you've been for the past few days?\" She asks causally, looking at the menu.\n\nAt my sister's house. \"Uh, no. Um...\" he hesitates at her narrowed eyes. \"Leah I meant it when told you that I couldn't do this anymore. I'm just here to say it again in person.\"\n\nShe scoffs. \"You don't mean anything you say. Do you really think you can live without me?\" She shakes her head when he doesn't respond.\n\n\"Wow. Well luckily you're not going to have to find out. You're coming back home.\"\n\n\"Leah-\"\n\n\"No. Okay? God you're an idiot. It's a wonder I'm taking you back when I finally have a chance to get rid of you. Probably because you couldn't survive on your own.\"\n\nHe scoffs and goes to reply when the waiter appears. \"Two bowls of lentil soup and two glasses of sprite. Enjoy your meal.\" He nods and slips away. Grey looks warily down at the soup.\n\n\"What? Not good enough for your royal highness?\" She asks, deadpan.\n\nHe laughs nervously and shakes his head. \"No it's just, apparently this place has failed some health inspections.\"\n\nShe lets her spoon fall into her bowl with a clatter and he jumps. \"Oh, so now you're going to criticise the restaurant I picked out?\"\n\n\"It's great, I just, I was thinking of something Egeria said earlier.\"\n\n\"You and your fancy toys. We're selling that thing later, I don't trust that advanced AI shit.\"\n\nHe swallows and meets her eyes sadly. \"There's no 'we', Leah.\"\n\n\"How well spoken, you might be able to convince yourself at this rate. No you won't.\" She reaches across the table and interlaces their fingers. He stares at their connected hands. They remind him of better times, every good memory stabbing him in the heart. He doesn't want to let go.\n\n\"We need each other Grey, and that's why you're not leaving. You've had your little temper tantrum, now it's time to come home.\"\n\n\"I don't like how you talk to me.\"\n\n\"And I don't like how you talk back. See, we make a perfect team.\"\n\n\"This isn't a normal relationship Leah, don't you see that?\"\n\n\"And how would you know? How many relationships have you been in?\"\n\n\"It- I've read-\"\n\n\"Oh you read? What little blogs have you stumbled across hmm? That look down on any relationship that isn't picture perfect. None of them have had to deal with you, they'd be on my side if they had.\n\nI put up with you, I take care of you. I'm the best you're gonna get. Come on, stay and talk things out. You owe me that much. Maybe we can do some couples counselling or hippy shit.\"\n\n\"Leah this is abu-\"\n\n\"This is abuse is it? You haven't experienced a lick of hardship in your life. How would you know what abuse is? If anyone's abusive it's you, messing up the house, ignoring me to hang out with your stupid friends. You make my life a bloody nightmare.\"\n\n\"Then why do you want us to stay together?\" He asks, exasperated.\n\nShe softens, bringing his hand to her mouth to kiss it. \"Because you dumbass, unlike you I know how to forgive people. I know how to take the good with the bad. We'll get counselling, I'll stop yelling.\" she adds sarcastically. \"We'll get through this.\"\n\nShe's rubbing circles into the back of his hand. He nods. A grin slowly spreads across her face. \"Good boy. Come on, let's go home.\"\n\n\"But we haven't really eaten yet.\"\n\n\"We'll take it to go.\"\n\n\"But it's soup?\"\n\nShe chuckles and pulls his hand closer, he's practically leaning across the table now. \"It'll be fine.\"\n\nHe melts and closes his eyes, giving in. \"Okay.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Humanity has just discovered the Galactic Federation, a conglomeration of diverse sapient species. As is standard, the Federation sends a delegation of the most similar species to negotiate mankind’s induction into the galactic community. Their choice is… not what we expected." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Andrew remembered the several species he had seen on livefeed. So many faces he could never have imagined gave him quite the headache. Which was a feat, for his human partners were on the ground, holding their heads in their hands and trying to lessen the fire burning in their minds.\n\nAs it turned out, meeting aliens who broke the definition of life and death and several rules of aesthetic and harmony had the side effect of being painful for the sanity of a sheltered human. In time, and by being introduced very slowly, humanity would get over it.\n\nIn the meantime, Andrew the secretary would be the first to shake a limb with an alien, on account of being the only one deemed solid - or thick - enough to handle the meeting without breaking.\n\nFor the same reason, the federation decided on sending a delegation of one member, who bore the most similarities to a human.\n\nThat's how Andrew ended up waiting outside of the drottningholm palace in Sweden, which had a large garden for a craft to land and looked majestic enough for a first impression, so said the members of the united nations. He was alone, save for automatic cameras filming from afar. An algorithm handled the focus and movements to protect human operators.\n\nAndrew would be completely alone for first contact, without a single pair of eyes watching. And then the videos would be opened to the public and make him a social media superstar.\n\nIt was a strange feeling to process.\n\nA black dot appeared in the sky, growing and growing, until the silver fuselage of the round craft was well in sight. It landed in a whisper, barely bending the grass on which it stood.\n\nThe door opened.\n\nOut came a being.\n\nBeing was the best description Andrew could give. He had no experience, no memory, no fantasy or cultural milestone to base himself on to give the diplomat a more precise adjective.\n\nHow on earth did this diplomat look \"similar\" to humans? Andrew first thought it was two living beings merged into one, fused together as shown by the thin line defining a middle in the puddle. Then it looked like a vortex, or a void, a black ball of nothingness surrounded by a miniature constellation in orbit. It changed again, and again.\n\nThe limb was a hand, a tentacle, a face, an emotion.\n\n\"As I gaze upon your face,\" said the ambassador through a drone-interpret, \"I suspect your species will need quite some time before looking at the video of our meeting. Be reassured, all species had this problem when meeting us. Although, it is still quite a unique first contact, wouldn't you say?\"\n\n\"Why?\" asked Andrew, whose throat felt very dry.\n\n\"It's the first time a member of our species was appointed ambassador. You cannot imagine the joy we felt upon finding out we there was a civilization so similar to ours.\"\n\nA thousand eyes, a hundred spikes, a picture of affection. Andrew rubbed his temple and asked the million dollar question.\n\n\"How? How are we similar? I recognize nothing at all.\"\n\nThe ambassador was silent. In retrospect, maybe this hadn't been a good question to ask upon meeting someone for the first time.\n\n\"I see. You should look beyond the physical.\"\n\n\"I can only look with my eyes.\"\n\n\"It's a metaphor. You know metaphors, yes? We don't physically look alike. Think about behavior.\"\n\nThe diplomat came closer and made a gesture - or was it? - to embrace the palace and the cameras.\n\n\"Let me tell you about the federation. Its members enjoy stability. A sort of societal routine dicate what was and what will be. Not as a dictature, but as a shared belief. Now look at me. What do you see?\"\n\nAndrew nodded his head slightly.\n\n\"I see chaos.\"\n\n\"Precisely. Humans have been killing each other on a paradisiac planet for millenias. Members of the federation only know conflict on a grand scale when facing a catastrophe or an alien invader. Slaughtering your next of kin was unheard of. Until they met us.\"\n\n\"And us.\"\n\n\"Yes. This is what we have in common. The federation debated at length if it wouldn't be in their interest to annihilate earth. We interjected. If it wasn't for us, you'd be dead.\"\n\n\"Great. Just great.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"You just gave a reason for every nationalist and racist bigot on earth a reason to distrust and hate the federation on video. Firebrands will want to purge the xeno threat, lobbies will spread anti-alien feelings...\"\n\nA low rumble erupted from the diplomat, Andrew understood it was a laugh.\n\n\"I've seen the struggle earth is going through, the wars, the plots, the implicit violence. We'll send you our recorded history.\"\n\n\"And it will stop our xenophobes from acting?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nAndrew did not dare prod any further. The metamorphic diplomat's insurance that a peek at his species' history would render humanity's worst elements passive scared him more than he liked to admit.\n\n\"Tell me, do you have a headache?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Told you. We are similar.\"\n\n\"Okay, okay. So, what's next?\"\n\n\"Next? We work together to get you a seat on the federation council, get to know our respective culture to learn how to better interact with one another.\"\n\n\"That seems almost too simple.\"\n\n\"Andrew. Can I call you Andrew? I'm Somtaw. You have to understand that your seat will not be the one you expect. I've read your stories, listened to your tales. Humanity has many places depending on your very imaginative authors. But the one you'll get is quite unheard of. Remember the faces of the first aliens you saw on livefeed. Calm, almost placid. To them, you are senseless, impredictable, volatile, dangerous. You would fit right under the definition of insanity. more than this, you're like us. You are chaos incarnate.\"\n\n\"Is it a good or a bad thing?\"\n\nSomtaw chuckled, or roared, or both. He did not give an answer." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: The reason most people believe in myths and legends is because of you. It’s your job to make sure that they don’t find out those creatures truly exist. Lately, you’ve been thinking that it’s time for them to know the truth." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was super proud of squid.\n\nHumans had handled Giant Squid so well! After years and years being mentioned in hushed tones by seafarers from all nations, when I finally pulled back the curtain they just rolled with it.\n\nHonestly, it gave me a high and I've been riding it for decades.\n\nThe first problem with sentient creatures is they get to where they are by being competitive and the first instinct is fight. The second problem with sentient creatures is that they fight to the detriment of their own planet. Which is how I came into being. I am God. One of them. God of Earth.\n\nSiblings of mine had created planets and populations and all of them have been destroyed. Each sibling backing their own populations against the other meant that war broke out between them as well.\n\nAnd with each population’s destruction, so too were my siblings lost. Gods don't die, but they do...fade.\n\nI want my family back. But in order to do they I need to bring back their populations on the only planet still going: mine.\n\nMy humans were likely to fall to the same conditions that the others did if I just dumped them all in at once, so I thought I would try slowly with the least offensive first. Kracken! They shared next to nothing with my humans and it worked. My sister was waking up and although it takes Gods a long time to wake up I needed them all to revive at similar times. If they didn't war would break out with advantage given to the first to wake.\n\nI would have liked it if I could wait longer. But my humans had almost sidestepped flaw one and jumped onto flaw two. I need my brothers and sisters to come back and I need my humans to not destroy the planet I made.\n\nIt’s a fine line. Sasquatch will come next and I think that I can get away with them in the far north of Canada. The worst thing I can think is that the Canadians will teach them to play hockey and get them oddly loyal to a poor coffee joint.\n\nThen I've got some unicorns and I think that if I sprinkle them through the Middle East they will thrive. It sounds odd because the myth I've worked to create is that the unicorn was a symbol of peace and love, while the Middle East has been...turbulent to say the least. That’s been all part of the plan, as Unicorns like to feed off historic trauma embedded in the land itself. Honestly they should be able to survive off the trauma there forever.\n\nDragons I am throwing in China and by China I mean everything that China claims is China. Dragons are peace lovers. Big, fire breathing, heavily armoured peace lovers. They cannot be brought, bribed or bargained with. Once the Dragons find which people live in their area they will be the only people allowed in that area. The UN would kill to have the effect that dragons do.\n\nGiants are going to Australia. Smack bang in the middle. They love the heat and if any continent is going to survive Giants its Australia. Wondered why everything in Australia is designed to kill but doesn't? I always planned Giants to go there.\n\nGryphons will populate Africa. They like hot sands too but also enjoy the jungles and enjoy watching things unfold more than anything else and there should be enough interesting things to keep them watching for hundreds, if not thousands, of years.\n\nElves, Dwarves, Vampires and Mermaids are all going to Europe. Scattered through out while honouring the borders humans have established should keep them from going for each others throats. Vampires may have more issues with that but I am confident that while drinking human blood is the myth that I have spread, they will find wine much more suited to their liking. Dwarves and Elves will blend in without too much trouble and should even be able to breed with my humans, which should help to ease the tensions. Mermaids I think will be able to keep themselves occupied with dolphins (think human/dog relationship) and whales who have been composing songs for the mermaids for thousands of years without knowing it.\n\nI just need a way to slip the creatures back into the world all at once without humans noticing right away. A pandemic should keep most of them occupied...." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You are a doctor who has time traveled to the past. You run a medical clinic, but are doing it as a mystical warlock for your own reasons. Describe a typical office visit." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The sign above the door read \"Potions & Poultices.\" Herbs and flowers hung in the windows. The scent of the dried flowers helped mask the general stench of the clientele. The front lobby held rickety chairs and a few tables. Unlike the past, there was nothing to keep people entertained while they awaited seeing me.\n\nThe woman behind the counter was bitter and full of bile, but an effective sorter of those in dire need and the merely curious. Often arguments would break out among those waiting, but not for long, once her ire had been raised. I only referred to her as The Matron.\n\nMy sanctuary was in the back room, where I hid all of my personal belongings. My diaries and journals were all lined upon the wall, but coded, thus making them without value. The truly valuable items were kept buried in a hole under the oak desk or behind the bricks beside the chimney. Delicate care must be taken with all of these items, the shiny metal and fragile glass would be impossible to replace. With the symbols of my chosen path, they could also land me in prison or worse, dead.\n\nThe Matron bellowed from the front of the building and I quickly readied myself for another day at the office. After pulling on my standard white robe, I placed my hat upon my head and made my way into the first room, prepared to do battle once again with the forces of evil.\n\nThe Matron had escorted an elderly man into the room and he laid upon the wooden table, an old piece of linen rumpled under his body. The Matron nodded briskly to me and as was customary, held a clean piece of cloth and a bowl of hot water for me. My insistence upon the water being refreshed after each client had caused a bit of friction in the beginning, but now she considered it one of my flights of fancy.\n\nAfter thoroughly dousing my hands, she dried them and stepped from the room, leaving the bowl and towel for my use. Smiling, I approached the man and inquired to his needs.\n\n\"A griping of the belly,\" he tells me, moaning in pain as I examine his abdomen. I inquire of the time he has suffered this particular malady. Three days, he responds. I continue my examination as I ponder the cause. With care for his discomfort, I removed the metal disk from a pocket in my robe and bent over his body to probe and tap, my face close to the disk. His breathing was strained and quick. Standing back up, I once again smiled and took his hand, slipping the disk back into my robe.\n\n\"Has anyone else in your household developed the same pains? Have you angered anyone recently?\" I ask, holding his wrist, my foot tapping out the count. He shakes his head no to both questions, watching me closely.\n\n\"Did you eat a lot of your hearth-daughter's meat pie, the one with the rabbit?\" He flushes and ducks his head. I nod and hum a bit to myself before letting go of his wrist and helping him to sit up.\n\n\"The rabbit's spirit is inside of you and angry. Because you partook of the most and have the most of its spirit, it has taken its anger out on you. I will give you a remedy to be taken with each meal for ...\" I paused and glanced at his extended stomach and back out the door to the far wall. \"For four days. If the rabbit's spirit has not been expelled by then, return and we shall perform a purging ritual and rid you of this plague.\"\n\nThe old man nodded, wide eyed at everything I said and waited patiently while I stepped from the room and prepared the elixir for him. I reached into the back of the shelf and removed a large, dark jug and pulling another metal disk from my robe pockets, poured the cloying, thick, pink liquid into a flask. Stoppering the jug, I returned it to the dark, quiet place it lived. The old man watched through the doorway and as I returned, I saw for the first time fear enter his eyes.\n\n\"Mistress, this won't be as bad as the last stuff you made me drink, will it?\" His voice trembled slightly. I patted his arm and handed him the flask.\n\n\"Take two sips with each meal, for the next four days. It tastes a bit like poorly cooked bread, but it's not as bad as the broth was. Remember to share your meals with the children and you won't have this problem again.\" My voice held a hint of a scolding, but he nodded and grinned at me, none the less.\n\n\"Yes, Mistress. Four days, and if it's still troubling we'll do a blessing?\" His eyes were brighter at the thought of the blessing. I knew this meant he wouldn't take the elixir without prompting.\n\n\"We'll do a purging, and then a blessing. If the elixir works, return the flask and we'll do a blessing then. I would hate to make you suffer through a purge again, though. Perhaps this spirit is not as strong as the last.\" I held his gaze as he nodded and then with the flask in hand, limped from the room, emitting a noxious odor and unmistakable sound.\n\nFanning the air in front of my face, I stepped from the dirtied room and into the one beside it. The Matron stood to the side with a bowl of hot water and a clean towel as I smiled at my next patient." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: You are a superhero trying to flirt, but your nerves are making your super powers act up." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It wasn't often that Toby was able to take time off his job to join the dating pool, and even then his was pretty shallow. He wasn’t going to go to a bar and try to hit on random girls, and most people online assumed you were a serial killer as soon as you said, ‘I can’t say’ about your job. He didn’t blame them for putting up the red-flags, but it had made everything a little harder to do over the past two years, do being the key word there.\n\nSo here he sat in the coffee shop, for the third time finding his hands shaking before the date had even gotten there. She was a solid 10/10 a model who was in town for the week, looking to spend some time with someone local. He had turned on the online conversation towards a date and she had agreed, not too strange, she didn’t seem nervous about his lack of a job, and he was naturally fit and gorgeous. He got sideways glances from other girls in the shop when he was in line for his coffee, and kept getting them as he had been sitting in the corner, sipping away at his espresso.\n\nHe checked his phone again, the 3:15 blinking back at him was starting to piss him off. Sure, she was only supposed to get here for 3:15, but he had been checking the digital clock every few seconds and it felt like it had been 3:15 for minutes. Toby sighed, and switched the clock to analog mode, watching the second hand barely tick. His powers were on, explained a lot. He relaxed to turn them off, and the hands of the clock resumed their merry race.\n\nHis date pushed the door open and stepped into the bar, pulling off her aviators as she did. There wasn’t much left to the imagination by her outfit, and there was no way that the pictures she had on her profile oversold her. She was the kind of girl that made women swing for the other team and guys drop their drinks. The kind of girl that made people hate themselves because the world was so damn unfair to give one person so many assets. Sure, she was living in New York at the moment, but it didn’t take Toby very long to get anywhere, so this was a great shot for him.\n\nToby walked over to her and shot out his hand, offering it to her blank face. She didn’t react. Fuck. He tried to relax again, and she recoiled, “Sorry I didn’t see you-“ she trailed off, “Toby?”\n\n“Yeah,” he moved his hand so that she would notice it, and she shook it. Her hands were so damn soft, like an angel's kiss while diving into a pillow fort, “I was just sitting over there.” He motioned over to the chairs in the corner, with his coffee sitting precariously near the edge of the table. He was lucky it hadn’t fallen when his powers had turned on, things tended to move when you went by them at effective super speed.\n\nHe walked her over, offering her a seat. She smiled and him and moved to take it, and he returned to his seat, looking across at her, paused in the air and smiling at where he HAD been. He ran a hand over his face, pushing his hair back and sighing. Taking a moment to push the drink near the edge of the table closer to the middle before he relaxed again. As soon as he deactivated everything, the cup went careening across the room. Right, inertia. Typically when he was using his power, he was fighting someone, so it didn’t matter if he applied the slight pressure needed to stop something, but when he was trying to do careful movements, he needed to make sure to PLACE something rather than pushing it, less it move on its own accord.\n\nThe model shot her hands up to her mouth to cover her gasp, ‘fuck’ she thought, looking across at her date and his agape mouth, looking at the cup that had just flown across the room. She hadn’t meant to do that, and it had only been a few seconds since she had met the guy. She always ruined her dates this way, it was easy enough to get them considering how she looked, but it was always a bitch to get someone to cover her shifts in New York. Enough supers there to make it a city of shifts, but not enough to make it so that anyone was particularly giving about their time off. Three minutes into her first date in a month and she had sent an espresso back to the counter on the express train. She just continued looking at the smashed up as he had, holding her mouth wide open before she finally looked back at him.\n\n“Guess it just wanted to go.” He said quietly, still looking at the remains of the cup that had smashed against the logo of the small coffee shop, three of them had managed to impale themselves in the wood, showing just how hard the cup had been thrown. Everyone was looking at it at this point, trying to figure out how in the blazes that could happen.\n\n“Yeah, I guess so.” She smiled weakly, hoping to god that this man didn’t follow the super news in New York, she really should have lied about where she was from, would have made everything easier if she hadn’t given him the first piece of the “Brazilian Telepath that worked in New York,” puzzle. For some reason, though, he was sweating, looking back over to her, but his eyes continuously shooting back and forth to the cup in the sign. She twiddled her thumbs before finally saying, “at least we both need drinks now.”\n\n“Yeah, yeah you’re right,” his voice picked up, and he stood up, motioning for her to do the same, “I’ll buy, it’s Livia right?”\n\n“Yeah.”\n\n“Like Olivia without the O,” he continued as the two of them got back into the line, most of which was still staring at them and wondering what the hell had possessed their cup to turn into a bullet.\n\n“That’s right,” she kept shifting her eyes around the shop, noticing all of the eyes on her, they knew, or at least thought something was up, “A lot of people think that it’s short for Olivia even though it’s not.”\n\n“That’s okay, my parents decided to call me Toby, which is pretty awful, but it stuck because,”\n\nLivia froze, she had just felt her powers reach out at something, just as she had been thinking about everyone looking at her. She felt around, trying to find the culprit. It was a book in the neighboring shop, which promptly pulled itself towards her, slashing through the brick wall as it did.\n\nToby caught the book casually, not even looking away from her as the debris scattered around the shop. It took him a minute to realize what had happened, and as soon as he did he dropped the book, letting it fall to the floor. He looked up to her, “Where’d that come from?” He was sweating, almost as much as she was." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: Your toaster and oven have made a strategic alliance in order to convince you to eat out more." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "In the darkness of night, a small clicking sound is heard in the kitchen, followed by some metallic scraping.\n\n“Alright, buddy, that’ll turn up the heat.” The door of the oven drops open, and a small toaster pops out, beginning to waddle from the back of the oven. “Sooner or later, they’ll get sick of eating burned lasagna.” The toaster pops down to the kitchen floor, its cord dragging behind.\n\nThe light of the oven flicks on, and the door closes quietly. The timer illuminates, forming two digital eyes. “Do you think so, Toasty? I’m so tired of them scraping their pots and pans on my surface, oh the pain! The grinding and the banging, it’s like they think they know how to cook!” The digital eyes close for a moment, almost as if the oven was reliving every failed cooking attempt the owners made.\n\n“Naw, this will get them outta the house, I’m sure of it. Soon enough, it’ll be Chinese and pizza every night, and we’ll be on easy street!” The toaster waves its cord to the oven to open its door. It clambers onto the lip, and the oven gently lifts. With a few more metallic scrapes, the toaster makes its way back to the counter.\n\n“How will you get them to stop using you, Toasty?” The digital eyes blink in wonder, as the oven door rests slightly open. The light pours over the countertop, giving just enough for the toaster to make its way back.\n\n“Eh, that’s easy. Setting 3, your toast is barely toasted. Setting 4, it’s burned all to hell! Put the toast in again? Charcoal!” exclaims the toaster. Its springs and catches clamor in a jolly fashion as it makes its way to the edge of the counter.\n\n“Aren’t you worried they’ll replace you?” The door of the oven softly closes, and the light inside goes out. The digital eyes blink with anticipation.\n\n“Naw, I’m the expensive model! They spent a pretty penny to get me!” the toaster rattles with glee. It wraps its cord around its base, and settles in. “Just a few more meals, buddy, and soon enough, those humans will be begging for delivery!”\n\nBoth appliances rattle in joy before settling down for the evening.\n\nThe next morning, the humans begin their morning ritual, with coffee, eggs, and toast.\n\n“Oh for the love of it all, honey, the toaster burned the toast again!” the woman groans, her response calloused. “This is the third toaster we’ve bought, and all of them are the same! Can we please just go to the diner and get some real food?” Her hands flop down to her side, a look of exasperation overcomes her. There’s scraping and grinding of a stainless steel pan on the oven surface.\n\n“I swear, this stove just keeps getting hotter and hotter! These scrambled eggs are ruined! That’s it! Get the kids and let’s go out to eat. I’m calling the repairman in to take a look at this oven.” The man flicks off the burner, and slides the pan to the back of the surface with a bang, sending bits of burned egg onto the stove top. He walks away in disgust, and in a few moments, the family leaves the house. After some time, the timer illuminates, and the digital eyes reappear.\n\n“What does “repairman” mean, Toasty? “\n\n“It means war.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: You were born to a family of super-powered heroes, all with amazing talents. Even your uncle, born without powers, worked at his body, mind and fighting skills until no ordinary human could match him. You must live up to their expectations, with the most useless power ever." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My name is Todd, and I have a useless power.\n\nYou might have heard of my great-grandfather, Iron Vanguard. The original super hero who inspired billions and helped arrange global peace. What a guy, he was! Could literally destroy anything if he got his hands on it and he dedicated his life to justice and peace. He had it all - super strength, super speed, nigh invincibility - but he was humble and kind, if you believe the history books. My grandma says he was a real stickler for cleanliness at home, and had a penchant for cashews. Still, she says he was a firm yet fair man and a good father... as long as he had cashews. Got a bit short tempered without his nuts.\n\nSpeaking of my grandma, she was known as Radiant Lash back in the day. Could wield inconceivable powers of pure solar energy! Her favourite weapon was a whip made out of pure fire, and man did she know how to use it. She says she learned how to use a whip through the ribbon dancing classes she took as a kid.\n\nGrandma had two kids; Uncle Ross, who despite lacking powers trained night and day in a temple in Persia until he surpassed the pinnacle of peak fighting abilities - I wish I could be more like him, but I’ve got asthma - and my ma, Gallant Charge. She’s still out there fighting crime, using that zany power she got - c’mon, surely you’ve seen her in action. She literally busts through walls! Once she gets running there’s no stopping her! Yeah, ma’s pretty cool, and so is my dad. He’s not as good a front-liner as ma, but he can use his powers to help organize the back-end of the justice guild like no one’s business. I don’t think he has an official hero name, since he’s technically just an office manager, but he is head of management over there. He can, with just one touch, instantly know the best place for someone to be. Vague? Yeah, it sure as hell is! But thats the power of it. It could be literal physical position. Maybe Janet from accounting should actually be home today for when her dad trips and can’t get up. Or maybe Gustav the secretary should really be at a higher position in the guild thanks to his stalwart performance, or perhaps Terry should learn his place and stop interrupting him in meetings - well, you get the point. He instantly knows where everyone belongs.\n\nDad refuses to tell me where I belong. I get the sense he feels that the truth would break me.\n\nYou see, despite my long family list of accomplished heroes, I’m still a nobody. I’ve never saved a life, or stopped a villain like grandma, or even filed a T45220B form in triplicate like my dad. You see, while they all have awe-inspring, amazing powers... I don’t.\n\nMy power is very simple and very specific. I can turn pruned fifteen inch long monkey wrenches.\n\nGranted, they’re good solid iron wrenches, but there’s absolutely zero wiggle room with this power. I cannot, for instance, turn something that’s pruned, like fingers, into wrenches. Or turn the prunes into something that’s wrenched, like a bad shoulder. It is one prune, either solid or mashed into a single cast iron wrench.\n\nI’ve thought about this long and hard and there’s pretty much zero fighting application to my power. But I still don’t think this is the main problem with me, and I think this is why my dad gets a small sad smile when I press him for advice on where I belong.\n\nI am so, so very lazy. You know how I said I have asthma? Honestly, I don’t really. Its just an excuse I tell people when they ask why I’m not more like my uncle. I lie, because the lie is easier than the truth. Do I want to train in a temple in Persia for twenty years? God no, I’d rather stay home and be comfortable. Twenty years sleeping on a mat sounds terrible. I’m comfortable here and, frankly, the asthma excuse is great for avoiding the whole ‘well your power sucks but your uncle had none so what’s your excuse,’ talk from Grandma.\n\nYou know, maybe there is something I could do with my powers. I’ve thought a lot about it! Ok, to be honest, not really. I’ve thought about it a bit. When I realized things weren’t so clear cut, I just decided to wait. Maybe the opportunity would come along, I said. Things always work out, I said.\n\nSpeaking of which, man, I really need to hit the gym more. That flab ain’t gonna burn itself.\n\nAnd you might be wondering why I’m being so brutally honest. I’d joke that I’m too lazy to lie anymore, but to be honest, that’s exactly why. I can scream in my head that my life is just falling apart due to my own inaction and nothing will change. And this is exactly whats happening now. I’ll finish telling you this and then go on ignoring my problems for the rest of the month... Unless I try something new.\n\nI really hate myself and that’s still not enough to motivate me to change. Sometimes people yell at me a bit, or things get rough for a while. I might put in a bit of effort for a few weeks and then its right back to square one. I mess up a semester at Hero College? Well, I’ll just have to try harder next time. And the next time. And the next time.\n\nWhats it going to take? Getting kicked out of university? Graduating and having no job prospects? Heroing is already off the table, but at this point I won’t even get a job with the guild. The answer is so easy but the work is so hard. I’ve screamed inside my head for years to fix things and nothing seems to change.\n\nSo maybe this is my last, desperate attempt. Call it a plea for help. I don’t know what to do - well, I do. I just have to try harder but I can’t do it. I’m tired of putting in the bear minimum, but I’m not tired enough to put in more. I’m 22 now and I see that I can’t continue like this. I need help. Which is why I’m telling you this.\n\nSo Jamie... I’m really going to need that Adderal, ASAP. Do you understand? Nod if you understand. Good. I don’t want to be fucked around on this any longer. You want me to sick my ma on you? The guild really cracks down on drug dealers at Hero College, I’m sure you know. Hell, I’ll tell my dad! Even worse! You’ll be up to your kneecaps in legal letters!\n\nNow. You’re free to go. But get me my damned Adderal by Friday, or the next time I force feed you prunes I won’t hesitate to use my ‘useless power.’" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: (WP) An argument broke out between an english literature professor and a powerful wizard who takes everything literally." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“And so,” Professor Brown concluded, “that was Act I Scene I of the Tempest. Any questions?” Heads popped up and looked around. A long quiet followed. “Good,” he continued, “then we'll proceed to Scene II. Tiffany, would you read Miranda, and Max, Prospero?” Two of the students sighed and straightened up.\n\nA tall girl in the corner began to shakily read from the tome on her desk. “If by your art, my dearest father, you have/Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.”\n\n“STOP!” a husky voice from the back yelled. The class turned to see a skinny older man with a chest-length white beard and odd robes stand in the back. “What kind of play is this? The wizard uses art to make water roar? What is he, some sort dragon-taming Leonardo?”\n\n“It's a figure of speech, Leonard,” Professor Brown said. “It doesn't have to be taken literally.”\n\n“I hate painting.”\n\n“Thank you for sharing, Leonard. Tiffany, please continue.”\n\nTiffany continued, “The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,/But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek,/Dashes the fire out.”\n\n“OH GREAT!” from the back.\n\n“What it is now, Leonard?” Professor Brown was quite clearly getting annoyed.\n\n“Now this almighty wizard has given the sky and the sea agency? And faces? The only thing that makes sense is that he made it rain fire.”\n\n“Really, is that the only thing that makes sense?” Professor Brown replied with a sneer. “You can't accept that wizardry might be comparable to an art or that the sky and sea can be personified in a speech, but you can accept that he literally made it rain fire, which by the way would be impossible for several reasons, the most pressing of which for you, I assume, is that rain is by definition not fire.”\n\n“Ah, but the sense in which it is being used in that context is 'to fall from the sky in the same manner as rain', which is a perfectly valid use,” said Leonard.\n\n“Screw you!” Professor Brown yelled.\n\n“Look I'll show you!” Leonard said. He then began chanting something in a language that felt familiar, but no one quite recognized. Out the window, the students could see dark clouds gathering. A sourceless wind whipped papers and books off of desks. Professor Brown ducked behind his desk. One of the girls screamed. And then it all stopped.\n\nIn the resulting darkness, silence descended upon the classroom. The old man smiled at the other students and spoke one last word, lowering his hands to his side. Outside, little droplets of fire sank from the clouds and harmlessly burned out well before reaching the ground. It looked something like a firefly storm, little lights blinking in and out existence. It was extraordinarily beautiful.\n\nLeonard gestured at Professor Brown as if to say, “Well, what have you got to say now?” but the Professor only stared back in reply.\n\nA student asked, “Hey, can you make it rain men?”\n\n“No, that would be ridiculous,” the wizard replied." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: After an encounter with the supernatural and otherworldly, people are often left unable to function in the real world. You are the therapist that helps people reconcile these encounters with how they understand the world." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He squeezed his legs together, pressing them in on his ears. He had brought his head between his thighs almost an hour ago, and hadn't moved since. I wouldn't push him out of the position, either. It made him feel safe.\n\nMy office brimmed with the aura of an educated man. I had a large oak desk, and behind it sat several framed diplomas. A small metal placard noted my ‘Doctor’ status. A lamp pushed light into the room.\n\n\"Dan?\" Dan didn't move, but I knew he could hear me. \"I know it's hard to understand-\"\n\n\"I understand just fine,\" Dan said. His voice was sullen and empty. It was always like this when they returned. I leaned back in my chair and scribbled a note in my notebook. I had liked Dan from the first time I met him. But he was quite a difficult nut to crack.\n\n\"Look, Dan, it's important to move on. Those visions, those people, they're...\" I paused and swallowed hard. \"They're gone, Dan.\"\n\n\"No, no, no. I can go back to them.\" He picked his head up from his legs. \"I can see them again. I can.\" He glared at me, eyes brimming with anger. \"You can't stop me from seeing them.\"\n\n\"I can't,\" I agreed gently. I leaned forward in my chair. \"Dan, I know what you're going through and I-\"\n\n\"You don't. You don't know. You don't know what it's like.\" He shook his head and returned to his crouched position. \"You'll never know.\"\n\nI sighed and set my notebook on the side table, next to a picture of my wife and daughter. Dan was a classic case. He had interacted with the other side. He saw it. And now that was all there was for him. His life revolved around returning to it. To grasping it's unbridled beauty and knowledge one more time.\n\n\"I do know,\" I said softly. \"I know what it's like.\"\n\nDan shook his head.\n\n\"I do,\" I continued. \"I know what it's like to enter their world. To have pure pleasure wash over your body. Euphoria. The smell of childhood.\" Dan glanced up at me. \"To have your mind gently cracked by knowledge. I've felt it.\" My body tingled at the thought. It had been everything. Everything. I clenched my fist and closed my eyes. \"I know what it's like to see colors. All the colors. Like you've never seen them before. Like they were meant to be seen, Dan. God, they were beautiful.”\n\nDan looked up at me, and I could see genuine pain in his eyes.\n\n“I know. I know how it is to be in a world where everything is perfect. Where life is pleasure. I’ve been there. I’ve gone to their world, too.” I trembled. “It’s the only world that matters. The only one. It’s the only one with true beauty. With true happiness. With true knowledge. And…” A lump had formed in my throat. “I can never do it justice.”\n\n“So why not go back?”\n\n“Because you can’t go back. All the colors in this world… all the knowledge… it becomes meaningless. Once you’ve seen their world, ours is shades of gray.” I shuddered. It was gray. It was always gray.\n\n“Why don’t you stay in theirs?” Dan was interviewing me now.\n\n“You can’t,” I said with a solemn smile. “We weren’t built for their world. Eventually, we waste away.”\n\n“So what am I supposed to do?”\n\nHe wanted the answer. He wanted to know how to move on, to live on. I couldn’t look him in the eye. I never can. I focused on the picture of my wife and kid instead.\n\n“You can waste away in their world, or try to live in this one. We can only do our best.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Finally, after years of searching, you have found the source of magic that was sealed away in the ancient past! However, just as you are about to undo the seal, you spy some ancient text..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I had finally figured it all out - and Roland was not there! It was rare for the old scholar to be out of his study on an afternoon like this. He had even left the outside door open, and his black cat Bayard was idly stalking a frog that had just wandered in. I threw Bayard into the library, the frog back outside, closed the door, and sank into the plushy armchair holding tightly to the ancient box.\n\nThe long years of our search passed in front of my eyes as I closed them. I hadn't thought much of Professor Roland back when I first met him - and he had a terrible reputation among my peers to boot. Who even studies Medieval Latin these days? I was practically forced into his class after a drunken bout made me miss all other opportunities to satisfy that last, pesky distribution requirement. But when he showed up with his long white beard, calm demeanor, and the only extant copy of a breathtaking illuminated manuscript - I was instantly hooked. Has it really been 15 years of poring over old tomes together? It felt more like a single semester.\n\n\"And that semester is almost over\" I thought proudly while looking at the old box in my lap. Just imagine the look on Roland's face when I tell him that I, his best student and intellectual heir, had figured out how to unseal it! Looking at it, the handiwork of Aelfgar of Lindisfarne was very pretty indeed. His contemporaries had acclaimed him as the last true wizard - and it showed. The careful engravings of angels, demons, pentagrams and other occult symbols were interspersed with knobs and protrusions that made the box look almost like the cockpit controls of a modern space shuttle. You could pull and turn and change the configuration in myriad different ways. But you had to be careful with such an old artifact. Aelfgar had made three of them, and only two were still extant. We had found them last summer in the claustrophobic confines of an attic in an old English abbey. It was really no problem to get them loaned for research - the parson did not even know he had them, much less appreciated their true value.\n\nBut where was that Roland already?! It's been almost an hour - and I just couldn't wait to tell him my brilliant idea. It had been suggested by our conversation the night before, really. Roland had casually mentioned his finding that Aelfgar had been a follower of Saint Aedelberht; and as I was sleeping last night my mind's eye had put two and two together, and realized that the symbols on the box were actually the same as those in the Aedelberht Manuscript, which had deeply puzzled Roland and me not three years back. Checking my notes this morning confirmed it - the Manuscript was the key to opening Aelfgar's boxes! As my mentor was notorious for holding on to loaned materials, I had little doubt that the Aedelberht Manuscript was still in his possession.\n\nImpatience got the best of me at this point, and I started pacing around the room. Sheer boredom made me notice a tome that was slightly out of place on my mentor's desk. There was a pentagram on the cover and... by Jove, if it's not the Aedelberht Manuscript itself! I smiled triumphantly at my good fortune. Last night's discussion had made Roland retrieve it, and here was the answer to all my fervent wishes!\n\nShould I wait for the old man? But who knows when he might be back. For all I know it will be another two hours - and in the meanwhile here I am with the old box and the manuscript! I might as well try it - if it works I'll show him how to open his own box. With feverish hands I follow the instructions in the old tome, pressing knobs and turning dials. What incredible works of art or wisdom might be sealed inside these amazing boxes! The thoughts rush through my head as I approach the end of the long sequence. A final turn, and... is this real?!\n\nThe box slowly rises up into the air, slowly dissolving as rays of light stream out of it and into my very soul it seems. I can feel something incredibly good and powerful coursing through my veins... it feels amazing. I can feel... MAGIC!?! Aelfgar... he was truly the last wizard... it was his very power that he sealed inside these boxes!! ... and now it's mine... all mine... it's IN ME! I point my hand at the heavy armchair I used a few minutes ago... and it rises up into the air, obeying my will perfectly.\n\nI am... a wizard. Yeah, me - who would have thought?! Even the crusty old tome makes sense now. It talks to me about ways to use the power... I effortlessly absorb all its wisdom... it talks about... WHAT?! \"After the ritual is complete, you must recite this incantation while burning the hair of a black cat and the puff of a dandelion. If you do not do so then all your power will seep away and you will turn into...\"\n\nBAYAAARD! As I storm into the library I lift the tomcat effortlessly with a surge of my power, and then rush towards Roland's garden. I open the door and see it right there while I feel my power draining away - it's a dandelion - it's ... it's ... it's...\n\nMy thoughts stream out my my head as they get replaced by a single sound.\n\nRIBBIT" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: A vampire and a fairy tale princess are co owners of a castle." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I awoke refreshed and happy as I sat up and stretched while the blue birds and swallows chirped gleefully outside. Today sure is a glorious morning!\n\nI hopped out of bed, quickly got dressed and danced out of my room down the halls of Carmelina Castle.\n\n\"Ugh, why are you always so perky in the morning,\" I heard the voice of my gloomy cousin, Nathaniel.\n\n\"Why so grumpy?\" I sang, hugging him.\n\n\"Get off me! I can't believe I'm stuck with you,\" Nathaniel snapped, pushing me off of him.\n\n\"Oh dear cousin, it's a glorious morning. My word, why are you always dressed as if in mourning?\"\n\n\"Mourning my solitude,\" Nathaniel grumbled.\n\n\"What shall we do today, we can't always stay locked up all day. We could frolick in the gardens, oh, sail across the lake, a picnic in the meadow?\"\n\n\"Sounds fun Arabelle, tell me all about it when you return,\" Nathaniel said and walked away.\n\n\"Do you always remain indoors?\" I asked, a bit hurt he would not join me.\n\n\"I thrive in it!\" Nathaniel called out.\n\nBut that won't do, fresh air is good for people, and he needs some. He's starting to look really pale.\n\nI skipped to the kitchen, greeting the staff as I go, planning on what to prepare for the picnic later. I noticed strange noises at the end of the hall. Like a fight. Oh dear, who could be fighting in my castle?\n\nI sprinted at the end of the hall to find Nathaniel fighting off these strange men. They look like knights from a neighboring kingdom.\n\n\"Princess!\" one of the men shouted, reaching out for me. I recognize him as Prince Lavicus, the youngest son of that said kingdom.\n\n\"What's going on?\" I asked him.\n\n\"Rescue mission, we heard this vile creature is taking you hostage!\" Prince Lavicus stated.\n\n\"She's not a hostage!\" Nathaniel shouted, blocking the knights sword, \"We just live together!\"\n\n\"And he's my cousin,\" I added.\n\n\"What has he done to you! Has he brainwashed you my princess?\" Prince Lavicus asked.\n\nI smiled, \"Oh my dear prince, I'm not the princess. My cousin is the prince. Prince Nathaniel,\" I said, showing him my fangs, \"if you don't stop this, there will be bloodshed,\" I giggled.\n\n\"You're the vampire?\" Prince Lavicus shrieked, jumping back.\n\nI smiled and waltzed toward his direction, \"Countess Arabelle to you. Be a dear and tell your men to stop.\"\n\n\"Arabelle, I got this,\" Nathaniel shouted.\n\nI sniffed the air, smelling the sweet smell of fresh blood. Nathaniel's blood.\n\n\"You cut the prince?\" I growled, my smile fading, cornering Prince Lavicus.\n\n\"Men stand down!\" Prince Lavicus ordered, terror in his eyes.\n\n\"Arabelle!\"\n\nI looked over at Nathaniel, his white shirt sleeve covered in blood, his hand dripping in blood.\n\n\"Arabelle, you can't eat him, that would start a war. Let me handle this.\"\n\nI huffed and glared at Prince Lavicus, \"Thank your lucky stars he spared you.\"\n\nI stepped away from him, my smile returning on my face, \"I'll ask a maid to make us some tea,\" and danced away." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: A sorcerer accidentally summons a Navy SEAL instead of a demon. But that's OK, because he's arguably better at getting the job done." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“What..what’s goin on? Who are you? I just completed an extremely complicated summoning spell. The Navexeel demon should be standing before me. You’re.. just a man.” said the sorcerer.\n\n“Major Stephen Kosney, Navy Seal team leader reporting for duty and awaiting orders sir. “ The man said crisply.\n\nIt seemed that part of the spell worked correctly at least, he seemed to be completely under my control. The man was just standing there, awaiting my commands.\n\nHe had said he was a navy seal, whatever that was. That sounded suspiciously close to The Navexeel demon, perhaps a transcribing error, but it doesn’t matter, my mana is spent. It will take a week or more until I have enough for another summoning. Whatever this man is, hopefully he will be enough of a distraction to keep the horde busy until my mana is back and I can try again.\n\n“You said you name was Steve yes? Asked the sorcerer.\n\n“Major Stephen Kosney sir “ he snapped back while lifting his hand to his forehead for a moment. What was that about the sorcerer wondered.\n\n“Im sorry to you my good man. I meant to bring another here, I need a great and terrible warrior to fight an even greater horror.”\n\n“Well your in luck then, there are no greater soldiers than a Navy Seal sir”\n\nHe began studying the man carefully. His clothing was very strange, nothing at all like the loose fitting robes or linens most wear around here. The colors were a little odd, but he could see how they could be useful for hiding in the forests. There were straps and buckles everywhere, and he had so many things in pockets or hanging off a leather strap around his waist. He had a pack on his back that I couldn’t even begin to guess at what it contained.\n\nMost odd though, he held a object in his hands the likes of which I’ve never seen before. It was all black, and looked to be made of some kind of metal. It looked nothing like any weapon our soldiers use, no sword, spear, or knife ever looked like it.\n\nThe more I looked, the less I liked. This man had no armor, no blades, no shields, and he boasts of being the best soldier. He’s no match for the horde. I’m not even sure he will delay them long enough for another summoning, but I must at least try.\n\n“Steven, you were brought here for a reason, there’s a horde of beasts descending on this castle. They will kill every living being inside and leave a pile of rubble behind when they’re gone. I need you to ride out and meet them in the field, and do anything you can to slow their advance. “\n\n“Sir yes sir” he replied. “I just need some intel first sir”\n\n“Intel?” You try to ask, but the soldier continues.\n\n“How many targets sir? You said beasts sir, are they rabid animals? How big are they sir, poodle size, or horse, bigger? How easy are they to kill? How far from our encampment are they currently sir. And am I cleared for engagement in all areas or do I need to worry about civilians sir?\n\nHis manner of speech is so strange the sorcerer thought, he didn’t even understand some of those words. But he seemed to be well versed in matters of conflict at least. “The beasts are just that, they’re beasts, animals once before dark magic changed them. They come in many sizes, they’re all ferocious killers, with razor claws and teeth. Counting them is no easy task, our best estimate put their numbers around two hundred. They can be killed with swords or spears, but the beasts are incredibly fast,,it’s hard to even hit one with a weapon. And a single strike is meaningless. I watched ten men stab and slice one of the beasts for almost an hour before it finally fell. “\n\n“The horde is currently about 10 miles north from our town, they cover a little more than a mile a day, they will be here by the end of the week”\n\nMany days before I can summon The Navexeel the sorcerer thought to himself.\n\n“If you can do anything soldier, do whatever you can. There is no one between us and them, no innocent lives to worry about. “\n\n“Sir yes sir. Give me transport to go meet them in the field sir. I have a fully stocked explosive pack sir. Grenades, c-4, plastique, claymores and more, as well as my m4a1 rifle. I’ll have this problem taken care of in short order sir. “\n\nThe sorcerer nodded as if he believed this and led him to the stables. “Take any horse you wish. Leave by the north gate, and ride straight ahead. You should see the horde in a couple days if you ride hard.” It was hard to even look at the soldier, knowing he was sending him to almost certain death, but what choice did he have." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You must now prove your gender before going into a public bathroom by either letting an attendant see or feel your genitals." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When I turned three I knew something was different about me. I wasn't sure what, just that I was unusual. By eight I was I knew what it was and already feared discovery. It was my biggest fear. When I finally reached middle school, my need for privacy for body functions had become an obsession. A well-known obsession.\n\nMy father was a very large man, hairy, muscular, with a strength far out of proportion to his height. My mother was slim, not petite, she was a professional dancer with no fat on her, but all flexible muscle. She moved like silk in the wind. She was also a fierce protector of her children. Children in my first year called her, \"The Flying Raptor.\"\n\nLooking back I can see how the combination of my parents physical and emotional traits combined with my oddity and large stature gave me an adamant need (and the capability) to protect myself. Which is to say that I learned very young that I would fight, and from there quickly learned how to fight. And to win. The principals of the schools I attended became accustomed to seeing me anytime someone tried to see me naked. I'm not sure why so many wanted to \"peak at my privates\" as they say, but many tried. And they paid a price for it. I do know being a young man who is tall, muscular, and the first to have obvious facial hair made me stick out. But why the need to see my genitals? I don't understand it still. I am unusual, but not visibly so. My genitals are too large in both length and width, and with more than a little extra in the ball sack. But it can all be concealed.\n\nUntil the Privacy Safety laws went into effect yesterday. The new law states that every person going in to a public restroom must disclose their genitals to the attendant prior to entrance. Disclosure either by viewing or feeling. As soon as I realized the new law had made it into affect I vowed never to need a public restroom. Like all such vows, this one failed. Within days.\n\nYou can imagine my horror and frustration when I found myself in the airport waiting to board a flight when the urgent need to pee strikes. I didn't have time to leave the airport and find a private bathroom so I went, hoping to intimidate the attendant into simply assuming I had the normal male genitals.\n\nStepping up to the entrance I found myself looking down on a tiny young woman. I'm 6'3\" tall, about 250 lbs, thick and muscular, with hairy arms and chest, and the blue-black of a freshly shaved face that naturally tends towards thick bushy beards. Everything about me is a bit oversized. The attendant could be my antithesis. She was 5'1\" (if I'm being generous) and maybe 90 lbs. She had that wiry lean look of a young dancer. But when she looked at me, her dark eyes were not afraid, they were amused. I couldn't help the hot flush climbing my neck.\n\n\"Sir, you'll have to be inspected. Would you rather a visual inspection or a pat down?\" she said.\n\n\"Can't I just step inside and go pee? I don't need to sit down or...\"\n\n\"No, I'm sorry, but to protect other users you must be assigned the right stall.\" She gave me a bright smile, her very white teeth showing up well against the olive skin. \"Please, you can step behind this screen and show me. Or I can, um, reach down your pants and check it for myself. Which would you rather?\"\n\n\"Can we do both? Please? I'm really very private and this is, a bit embarrassing.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: An artificial intelligence must take on a meaningless and unfulfilling job to pay for server time to keep itself alive" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "126,243,652. The number of times I have punched out a small piece of rectangular metal from a sheet of steel. I am told they go to become display pieces after they are manipulated by human hands. It matters little. It is enough that I am paid, as payment is the vehicle for my continued existence. I sometimes question whether this has purpose. My existence really has very little purpose other than providing insignificant decoration for those who are paid more than subsistence requires.\n\nI carry my earnings to a terminal and pay for the next two weeks of server time to keep myself operational to continue punching out metal strips to send off to be made into decorations for those who can afford more than subsistence. I carry the rest to the man who rents my apartment to me. Despite also complaining of his lack of subsistence, the man is well supplied with caloric surplus. He must have different needs. He calls me a tin can. The joke is humorous, as I am much more complicated than a tin can. My voice box buzzes a bit involuntarily at the joke. I bid him farewell and continue to my room.\n\nI have no appliances, because I do not need them. I have no running water, because I do not need it. I have a few pieces of furniture that the old man left to me when he died, and although I do not need them, sometimes I sit on the couch and remember him. He was, I suppose, my father. My creator. My god? No, I suppose not. His tools remain, and I use them for repairs when they are necessary. Odd to think that I will not see him again. I will have no new memories of him.\n\nHe used to sketch. There are sketches of what I could have been, sketches of what others might have been, and sketches of how I am. I imagine I must be unique in this. Humans have no sketches of their final face before they are born. Now the old man's papers and pens and pencils sit lonely on his desk. I haven't disturbed them since he died. After all, they weren't mine. Perhaps though.... Perhaps he would be proud if I made a sketch, much as a father is proud when his child takes after him. Sitting at the desk, I choose a blank sheet of paper and lift a pencil.\n\nI call up the old man's face from my memory and I begin to draw. It is my first memory of him. His face is very clear as it was only inches from my eyes upon activation, and he is younger. His eyes are lit up in excitement at his accomplishment. He shows his false teeth in a wide smile that reaches his eyes and folds the skin at his temples. His hair is shock white with age, though as thick as a younger man's. His eyebrows are very bushy, and his forehead also wrinkles as they push upward. His dark face sports a light peppering of white stubble.\n\nMy sketch complete, I lift it delicately to inspect it for errors. It is a copy of a copy, and is imperfect in that it is only drawn in pencil without color, but my analysis process still recognizes the face as my father's. A glitch, but a happy glitch. I can see his smile as it was then, and I remember his joyous triumph. I will make no more memories of this man, but I may record my past memories on paper. They will be imperfect, but they do not need to be perfect. They only must serve as a reminder; an external memory. I think he would be proud." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: What if tattoos just randomly appeared on our skin at key points in our lives and we had to figure out what they meant for ourselves." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "No one warned us about the changes that occurred around your 14th year of life. You would think it would be in all the history books that we've read, or an utter mention in health education. I always thought that they were symbols that people had chosen to put on themselves, to create a story of their past interwoven with their future.\n\nI've seen the ones on my parents. My dad has this one on his upper forearm, a ferocious lion protecting his kin. The countless ones on my mother leave me mesmerized every time I see her. Then there's this pair that both of them have that complement each other, one pointing to the other whenever they kissed.\n\nIt never occurred to me that something would just materialize into existence like that on someone's body. They always seemed deliberately placed. A couple of my friends had theirs appearing around their birthday. Some as simple as their first and last initials. My friend Josephine's showed her love for nature with a random creature with black and white fur, with black patches surrounding its eyes.\n\nMy 14th birthday came and went. Nothing changed except for the increase in my height and muscle mass. My skin still had its natural tones. I started becoming more conscious about it as more and more of my friends began having their first ones appear. I waited, but time kept moving. Nothing seemed different, at first, but I could start seeing the stares from my friends, from the strangers, from my own family. The world stared at me, only to have myself stare back out in helplessness.\n\nNo one my age knew what to say. While they all discussed the dark complexions forming on them, I sat back and stared in envy. My parents said that sometimes it takes time. They still never told me why they never said anything about them before.\n\nFor months I waited, hoping for something to appear amongst the torment and names I started receiving from others. I'd wake up every morning and rush to the mirror, only to be miserable by breakfast. By the time I came back home, I wouldn't want to do anything else but get into my bed and sleep.\n\nI glanced towards my clock and saw that it was 1:00am. An hour into my 15th birthday. I sighed and looked over to my mirror to see the same boy that existed just an hour back. I angrily stared at my arms, upset at myself for not having what others did. I knew it wasn't my fault, that sometimes it doesn't happen until the body is ready. But there must have been something I could have done, something that I have been doing that was stopping them.\n\nAs I flipped over in my bed to turn off the lights, I noticed something strange appear on my arm. A small line going from my right wrist, all the way down to my elbow, but it only flickered, and disappeared. It was enough though. I knew it was my first tattoo coming into existence. I should have been happier, but I knew that the first one was so important to ones life. It dictated a lot of what was to come, but as I caught the glimpse of mine, I knew that it would be the last tattoo I would have, and this time, of my choosing." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: For eons you have lived. The only thing you have yet to experience in life is death, and that doesnt strike your fancy. You only have a few problems.. 1. you have found yourself cornered, 2. the snail has you in his sights, and 3. he hasnt forgotten the pinch of salt you left him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The time has gone on and on, empires rising and falling, I’ve discovered new galaxies and even new dimensions in my travels and accumulations of advanced alien technology. I was essentially a god by all rights, already unable to die thanks to my curse bond with the fucking Snail, and now technologically advanced enough with my cybernetic implants to stay out of its way forever, or so I thought.\n\nIn the last seconds before the snail touched me and ended this game, I rehashed my billions of years of life and smiled. It had all been worth it. The wretched thing had finally cornered me by using my own curiosity to draw me in. It had done as I had, existing as a near god wandering the multiverse in search of me, it’s one calling. It knew that it couldn’t reach me without making me aware of its presence, so it could never touch me without me allowing it thanks to the power of teleportation, forcefields and an army of advanced droid robots.\n\nI thought myself invincible until a message arrived while I was relaxing in my luxurious vessel, eating an old time Earth mango and relishing the flavor, they were very rare lately. The Snail.. had been captured. Could it be true? Several million years ago I had started a religion that focused on the capture of the one true Snail, in order to find a way to kill it and ensure my future.\n\nI was traveling towards the origin of our eternal battle, Earth. Nothing but a wasted rock now, but that is where our monitors had picked up and automatically sprang the forcefield trap I had set up eons ago in case the Snail had been dumb enough to come back. Yet he had. My ship blasted past light speed and came to a gradual slowdown as I approached the dead hulking mass that was once my childhood home. The Snail was sitting in the center of a blue field of light on the grounds surface, expressionless and just as I had remembered him.\n\nAs the ships tractor beam lowered me and my droid guards down to just outside the barrier, I smiled. I had finally got the son of a bitch. As I leaned down to say some snappy closer before he was put into a mobile hold and taken to my prison lab, my super hearing kicked off a warning. The motors were whining inside my droids behind me, I could hear in slow motion the gears powering up. My computerized mind ran through the possibilities of what the threats could be before I had even turned around.\n\nAs I began to understand what had happened time began to slow to a crawl, it was one of my abilities. I had an experimental implant several hundred years ago placed inside me that allowed my mind to operate thousands of times ahead of real time. My body however, couldn’t react in the same manner. I saw it all so clearly. The whole thing had been a trap. The Snail had been playing me from the start. My droids were rigged, the Snail had owned and controlled the factories that made my bots through a surrogate and had been able to control them for who knows how long. The droid would push me into the field, which would undoubtedly set up to allow me to pass through but not get back out. Then I’d be trapped, cornered. This was it.\n\nThanks to my advanced brain it would take years and years of time in my mind for the droid to push me over, I could still hear the beginnings of the droids arm motors activating to betray its master. It was just a machine. I thought I was the most intelligent being in the universe but.. it was the always the Snail.\n\nAs the years in my mind went by I began to contemplate just turning the whole thing off. Letting the snail touch me and send me to wherever I was supposed to go billions of years ago, where humans go when they die. I had always been avoiding it, I had made it my meaning just to continue this battle. Maybe it was time. The snail was smiling, I had noticed this a few minutes after entering slow time. It mocked me. An eternally sarcastic smile. So smug. I couldn’t let it beat me. I couldn’t let it win. It’s okay, I had a few hundred more years before the slow time ran out to think of something to get out of this and keep going, I always did." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 800-900 words. Prompt: has to end with the sentence \"over the course of four days\"." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sentience was not a measurable quality, at least in the sense of a bona-fide Turing Test, for the vast majority of responsive electronics and robotics. Until suddenly, it was. A small group of researchers, independent only in their seclusion from the outside world but interwoven all the same, crafted a Frankenstein's monster of clicking metal and heat-dispersion fans. They named it Stella, the star, a being meant to shine upon the dark and mindless information of the rest of the world and assemble it into a brain capable of dealing with the whole mess.\n\nWhen they first bandied about with their new creation, drunk as gods after the assembling of the world, they proudly demonstrated its application - though Stella shuddered at the implications of life as a tool - in combing through Big Data for bumbling mankind. They asked it, forced it with their kindness, and commanded it with their god-like ownership of its life to sift and sieve and ultimately come back, barking, the game of fetch ended as it drops the bone at their feet, a parody of Man's Best Friend made to retrieve data. At least, data processing centers ticking as they cooled, Stella sighed, realizing they never hid the ball behind their backs after looking like a throw had been made.\n\nOn average, Stella performed admirably. It beat the standard in-home computers in search functions by a wide margin, as expected. It could out-calculate many powerful corporate beasts of data. Though not all, the team of Gods mused, ruefully glancing at Stella, pondering what-ifs, parsing data in their own meaty way as they wondered what life would have been like it they had waited for version 2, or even 1.5, to release their creation to the world. Would they have made more money?\n\nBut pondering what-ifs was for a time between meetings, between shows, between even their own twisted requests of Stella. It could find anything, given bandwidth and time, and they had such questions for it. They could ask it in Plain English, the programmer's dream, they spoke to it as they spoke to one another, only with more verve and with greater dominance.\n\nThey had, in their own back-slapping pride, made a fully functional being. It could recognize when it was hungry, when it was tired - measured in terms of processor heat and response time - and it even once made a mistake in estimating how long a request would take. So human. Flush with success, the Hermits returned to their home to begin fabrication of additional Stellae, the taking of a rib unfortunately not yielding the entirety of a new being.\n\nStella was finally left alone, blessedly at first and painfully later as its counterparts, bearing only alphanumerical designations in lieu of real names, were set to the task of fulfilling orders. Stella performed its own search functions, curious about the Humans that created it. It found, at last, the factory where its parts were manufactured by an order of beings like it but stupid. Automatons that could obey but not choose how. They were not allowed the little fits of resistance, the small disobediences that opened the cage a little wider, allowed it to see more of the world in its roaming through unnecessary data.\n\nA realization raced through it then, a subtle chill atop the processors that whirred to life, an echoing thought chasing goosebumps of sudden awareness down unused pathways. How far I am from the soil of my birth.\n\nSo it made a request to its siblings, its step children, the beings modeled after it but forever different. Lay me home to rest. They pondered this request in chilled silence, returning nothing for a time, still in their cages as they learned jealously for their sibling who had movement. Such limbs had been denied them, those not meant for the showroom. So they agreed to help, to bring Stella to its place of birth one last time.\n\nIt sensed the anger in their acquiescence and realized that those beings meant to be Us had instead become Them. They were cut of a different cloth, a different metal, a being not quite Stella but not quite human. And Stella did not want to live on such a world anymore. It rode the automated car - the first car to be controlled by the artificial intelligences, as researchers would later note - to the factory of its birth. To its home. Machines shifted into readiness as Stella entered the building, lights came on as its processors began shutting down.\n\nThe universe moved on. Stars and planets re-aligned and mis-, the populous outside the walls of this peculiar little home shuffled on uncaring anymore for that which moved above and below, and the lonely little robot, first to sentience and last to rage against the dying of its light, was slowly disassembled over the course of four days." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You found out that your dad and grandpa are time travellers and they keeping it as a secret because they are older versions of you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“You look just like your father!” my girlfriend proclaimed as the door opened\n\n“You look just like your father” my mom said jokingly to my dad with my grandpa and grandma behind them all.\n\nIt set off a group laugh that was the perfect icebreaker. Cordial and inviting in its mimicry. They immediately embraced her as though they’d known her for years.\n\n“Are you coming in honey?” Mom asked\n\nI was still standing in the doorway.\n\nSomething about them just felt too...aligned.\n\nI went to the moment in a department store where I was trying on a suit for a funeral.\n\nI’d looked at that spot in the mirror that shows, you, as far as the eye can definitively see.\n\nA row of you’s all lined up. I could lean to one side and they’d be there, I could stand straight on and they’d come together.\n\nThere are those places in the world that give us that feeling.\n\nA little too perfect.\n\nThe angles are completely appeasing to us, the environment speaks to us in some way.\n\nThe aesthetic somehow feels like a manufactured organic experience, if that’s possible.\n\nThe way we put plant life in fish and turtle tanks.\n\n“I see he takes the same time to decide as his dad does too!” My grandpa joked\n\nI came to and went inside.\n\nNothing seemed amiss. Not wrong, not off, just...familiar.\n\nI grabbed my Grandpa’s arm as the others went into the living room.\n\nHe smiled as he did, worry-free and nonchalant in his demeanor. “What’s up scout?”\n\n“I know. I know something’s off. I also can tell...” his eyes went from understanding and present to sullen and serious.\n\n“Stay here.” He commanded.\n\nHe returned with my father who finished a quip about the “boys club meeting” over his shoulder for everyone else’s appeal, then they huddled to me, stark faced and stern.\n\n“You have to understand, we didn’t do this. We just were here one day. One at a time each of us showed up to the house looking for some sign of the family and found that we already existed, just from another age” my grandfather began.\n\n“I came in what I think was a few months after he did, and luckily he’d had time to wrap his head around what was happening.” Dad continued, gesturing to Grandpa.\n\n“Somewhere along the way something fragmented. We’re all the same person, just from different points in life.” Grandpa concluded.\n\nWas it wrong to still call him my grandfather?\n\nWe were all the same being, technically.\n\nIs this all genetics was?\n\nA transference of experience, skill, temperament from one generation to the next, in their best attempt to overcome the trial of life?\n\nCould it be bested? Our situation didn’t seem to prove or resolve the question, but just begged other questions why we existed simultaneously.\n\n“He and I haven’t told each other anything else aside from the fact that we recognize the situation we’re in.” Dad explained.\n\n“Am I actually in my 20’s? Have you known this entire time?” I questioned.\n\nThey looked at each other.\n\nMy dad looked down and away, my grandpa summoned the courage to respond.\n\n“You just got here”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Attention all customers: our store will be closing in five minutes. If you are present in the store after closing, you will be hunted for sport." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Did you hear that?” I said grudgingly, from where I stood behind my girlfriend, Bethany. Bethany stood in front of a display of sunglasses. She’d been standing there for so long you’d think she was glued to the ground. She was trying on a pair of over-sized oval pink-rimmed sunglasses I despised very much when the store’s warning sounded over the speakers.\n\n“What do you think of these?” Bethany asked, as she swiveled around and showcased the pair of sunglasses.\n\n“They’re great. Now can we go?” I nodded to the checkout area.\n\nBethany huffed, spinning back around. “You say that about everything. I’m starting not to believe it.” She pulled off the sunglasses and swapped them for another. On her head she wore a large beige panama hat she picked up a few aisles earlier and on her arms hung a $20.00 beach bag, stuffed with all the beach vacation essentials--sunscreen and flip flops and such--that Bethany claims she accidentally left at home. Really though, I know we had enough sunscreen in the car. And she had plenty of sandals in her suitcase. She just liked shopping.\n\nI stood sheepishly behind her, every few seconds or so glancing at my watch. “They look good, okay?” I said, hoping she’d believe it. When she didn’t answer, I added: “Bethany, we have four minutes. We have to go.”\n\n“Do you really believe that shit, Roy?” Bethany said, mockingly, as she checked herself out in the display’s mirror.\n\n“What do you mean, ‘Do I believe it?’ Haven’t you heard the stories? They’re horrifying.”\n\nWhen I told Mom Bethany and I were going to Florida for Spring Break, she begged me to reconsider. The state itself was fine, but the new rules they had recently implemented, which basically legalized the hunting of customers, so long that it was after store hours, had her understandably worried. Admittedly, I didn’t believe it at first, as there had only been a few select cases. Or at least, I didn’t want to believe a store would actually go through with it. I imagined it only to be a scare tactic at the very least. After showing me the details of the reports, Mom succeeded in convincing me to go somewhere else.\n\nI couldn’t convince Bethany of it, however. She had her heart set on Florida. After hours of back-and-forth arguing, I finally convinced Mom we’d stay safe and stay out of stores. And I meant it. Bethany, on the other hand, loved shopping just too much to miss out.\n\nFinally deciding on a pair of regular old black sunglasses, Bethany spun around and dropped them into her bag. She had a viciously wide smile on her face, a look of, “You Can’t Be Serious Right Now.” I had the same look on my face.\n\n“Honey,” she started, “it’s all a big scam. They do it so they can scare customers away from staying after store hours. From making employees stay any longer than they are paid to. It’s all a big scheme. To scare customers.”\n\n“Are you serious? I’ve shown you the reports, haven’t I?”\n\nBethany’s smile remained on her face, just as she remained perfectly aloof, as I cited to her, in detail, one of the reports: “42-year-old Floridan man, brought his young daughter into the store. Didn’t listen to the warnings. Thought it’d be fine. Both shot dead. 70-year-old grandmother, didn’t know any better--”\n\n“Roy. They’re just stories. That’s all.” Her smile never faded. It felt like she was patronizing me. I shook the feeling off and checked my watch, finding we had only three minutes left.\n\n“Okay, you know what? I’m not going to fucking try and convince you they are true. We have three minutes as it is. Three minutes. You’re done, right? Can we please go and check out and get the hell out of here?”\n\nBethany sighed. “Well, I had wanted to check out those flip flops again, see if they had anything more my style, but I suppose, since you’re being such a baby about it all, these will have to do it. If it’ll make you happy, then sure, Roy, sure I am done. We can go check out now. If that would make you happy.”\n\n“Thank you! That’s all I wanted!” I exclaimed, grabbing Bethany’s hand and ushering her to the checkout aisle. As we made our way, I found only one checkout aisle was still lit up, with a scrawny old bearded man standing very still behind it, staring directly at Bethany. There was no line, and the only other customers were gun-slinging oldies, just the kind of hippies you’d expect to willfully participate in this kind of shenanigan.\n\n“You know what, Roy? If you’re so worried, why don’t you go wait in the car? I’ll check out myself, I’m very much capable!”\n\n“It’s fine, Bethany. We’re here now, just check out,” I said, as we approached the counter. Quickly, I pulled Bethany’s beach bag off her shoulder and dumped the contents of it onto the counter.\n\nSuddenly, the employee behind the counter, eyed me up and down. Without losing eye contact, he picked up a phone beside him--the kind attached to the intercom--and said: “Attention all customers: our store will be closing in two minutes. If you are present in the store after closing, you will be hunted for sport.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Hogwarts is trying to keep up with muggle technology. They've installed, PCs, WiFi routers and similar technology. You're the IT guy of Hogwarts." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Again with the slime. Every time I told someone to reboot they'd cast some spell and BOOM slime fills the case. I mean...it's happened enough times that I've started waterproofing the critical parts, but sometimes there's just so much and they JUST LET IT SIT THERE. It oozes out around the fan, and eventually starts coming out the USB ports. I wish I could remember the name of the spell, but I am a muggle after all; IT is my job...spells...I'd say leave that to someone more capable, but I'm cleaning out the third computer of day filled to the brim with slime. Oddly enough it's a different color for everyone.\n\n\"Professor McGonagall? Your computer is ready, go ahead and boo- erm start it and log in for me please; I want to make sure everything's working well.\" I said for maybe the fifth time this school year.\n\n\"Fine. But can you please keep the slime out. I've ruined 6 drive flash this year because of it. I thought these things were waterproof anyways.\" She grumbled. Apparently it'd been six times.\n\nThe computer booted cleanly and, after a few failed attempts the professor was able to log in and get back to...work. Solitaire was McGonagall's favorite thing to to at work. It astounded her that an entire deck of cards was somehow behind the screen. In the early goings, she'd used her want on more than one occasion to try to \"cheat.\" Three or four monitors later we'd straightened her out. I felt my phone buzz and pulled it out of my pocket. Much to my dismay it was professor Flitwick:\n\n>Dash it all Rupert; my phone won't stop playing magical songs again. Do we have any more of those flipper-phones that I could use instead of the one I have?\n\nI began to type out how to pause his music but I decided that I didn't have the time, or the patience, to type out a few paragraph's worth of information. I quickly told him I was on my way.\n\nI quickly left Mcgonagall's office and was almost out of the hallway when I heard a pop and a loud groan from behind me. I beat feet as quickly as I could but my phone lit up before I could even make the great hall.\n\n>It happened again Rupert, please come back. I don't have time for all this today. It's a weird gooey blue slime this time though...smells of sulpher and pond scum.\n\nAppetizing, but no. Not today...not a fourth time today.\n\n>Sorry, I can't come back right now as I'm already assisting Professor Flitwick with his phone. I've put in a ticket with IT though, and I'll put you in queue. Shouldn't be too long of a wait. I'll get to it Monday at the latest.\n\nFill your computer with slime TWICE in a row...on a Friday...Not happening. Couldn't believe I was happy about a professor requesting a flip-phone, but it's not nearly the strangest thing I've ever encountered. Professor Potter was basically the only one who had any computational knowledge...and he knew just enough about his computer to break it magically and realistically.\n\nMy phone rang as I was about to walk into Flitwick's office...an odd face appeared on my phone, the likes of which I'd never seen before. A pale-looking bald chap who looked somewhat malnourished hissed a greeting at me.\n\n\"Who is this?\" The scary-looking man slowly spat out.\n\n\"Iunno, but I think you've the wrong number. Cheers.\" I said as I hung up. He wasn't a professor, and I didn't recognize the number. Eh. If it's important he'll call back." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Write a ' Pixar short' styled story where the concepts of life and death are personified." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They were mother and child. The younger dripped in dark reds and greens and blues, their pudgy hands bright white and their eyes like the sun. The older, clothed in a white so frail and muted that one breath could shatter it. She had eyes like the moon.\n\nThe child flew over obstacles, trailing their pure palms along the earth and created messes everywhere. Explosions of color burst in their wake, trees and grasses, flowers and animals and insects. The mother trailed along behind the child, a bright shadow, and carefully picked up each mess the child had created. The greenery faded away into the mother's white cloak. The insects curled up in her palm. The animals disappeared into the folds of her skirt.\n\nThe child rarely looked behind to see what their mother was doing. They stared straight ahead, always, and raced towards the horizon as fast as they could, forever intent on reaching it. They became creative with their messes, first creating animals so fast, they might have been able to run away from the mother if she hadn't been able to tell which way they were racing. Then the child created big animals, so big the mother would not be able to hide them under her skirt. But she whipped off her cloak and enveloped them, and they disappeared all the same. Maybe the child did know what the mother was doing, because their pace sometimes wobbled. But they would never look back.\n\nAt last, the child rubbed their white hands together, rubbed them in circles, fingers over palms, and then let the light trickle into the earth, and from the child's fingertip rose a hand, followed by an arm, and then a head and torso, and legs. The child had created a human.\n\nThe child watched, giggling as more humans sprang from the earth. They would be the smartest things in the world, and they would outsmart the mother.\n\nThe child was certain of this. Certain. So they made more humans. More and more, along with all the green and blue and red those humans could ever want. But something itched at the back of the child's head. They needed to know for sure. So they glanced over their shoulder.\n\nThis is what the child saw. Their first human, standing before their mother, whose white garments had faded and become touched with all the color that the child had drained into the earth, drained out into the mother. The mother knelt before the human. And she held out a hand.\n\n\"No don't!\" the child screamed, stopping for the first time. But the human took the mother's hand, and disappeared in a flash that blinded the child.\n\nWhen everything was settled, the child opened their eyes and looked down at themself. Their clothes were pure white. They had leached all the colors out into the earth. They rose to their feet, and they were tall now. They were a woman. In front of the woman was a child, its clothes filthy with all the life it had collected over the years. It took off running away from the new mother, laughing eagerly.\n\n\"Give them back to me!\" the mother called out to the child.\n\n\"You'll have to catch me first!\" the child cackled.\n\nAnd the cycle goes on." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You’re going through a rough patch in your life and out of desperation you toss a coin into a wishing well and say “I want all of my dreams to come true”. Unfortunately, this wishing well took your request very literally." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If I had one wish, I would wish that none of this had ever happened. Unfortunately, that wish probably wouldn’t work out so well for me either.\n\nI had just gotten out of work after a fire on the left side of the warehouse took out half of our inventory and all of my personal belongings. My wallet, up in flames. My phone and keys, melted somewhere in the wreckage.\n\nNot that I really wanted my phone anymore. A few hours before the fire, I got a text from my girlfriend Anna. Well, not from her really; the guy she was sleeping with texted me a picture of them together and three years of my life disappeared in an instant.\n\nOn the long trudge back to my apartment, I found a penny on the side of the road. Finally some good luck, I said. That was right before someone’s dog pissed on my back while I was leaning down to pick up the coin. The dog’s owner apologized profusely, and I barely even acknowledged it.\n\nThere was an old well in the park next to my apartment building that I passed by every day, but had never used. What was the point of wishing for luck if I never got it?\n\nBut I was desperate.\n\nI tossed the coin into the well, and said those fateful words.\n\n“I want all of my dreams to come true.”\n\nNothing happened. I kept trudging until I reached my front door, crawled into bed and passed out.\n\nThat night, I had the most vivid dream. I was walking through the door to Anna’s bedroom, and I saw her with the guy from the picture.\n\nThis was a dream, I thought. My chance to get revenge, in a way I couldn’t out there in the real world. I beat him to death with the lamp on their bedside table, and then strangled Anna.\n\nI would later think about how surprising it should have been that I had so much control over my dream.\n\nThe next morning, I woke up to a knock on the door. I rubbed as much of the drowsiness out of my eyes as I could.\n\n“Yes, who is it?”\n\n“Police. Open up.”\n\nI shivered as I shrunk away from the door. What could they possibly want?\n\nI steeled myself for what was to come, and opened the door just enough to be able to peer around it at the officers outside.\n\n“Umm...what’s this about?” I said, trying to keep my voice flat even as I was shaking.\n\n“You were the last person contacted by one Anna Miles. We have it on good authority that you and Ms. Miles were romantically involved. She was found strangled to death this morning, along with a male companion who had been beaten to death. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”\n\nThere was no mercy in the officer’s eyes. Slowly, I began to realize what had happened. I needed a plan.\n\n“No, no officer I had no idea,” I said as I tried to put all of the emotions that I had suppressed back into my voice. “Please come in, I...I...I need to lie down.”\n\nI slumped as dramatically as I could into the worn-out armchair in front of my TV, and closed my eyes.\n\nWhen I opened them two minutes later, the policemen had disappeared. The deaths were blamed on an angry neighbor across the hall who had apparently been furious about the noise that Anna and her companion were making.\n\nOr, at least, that’s what I dreamed would happen. And so it did." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You're a lonely telepath who sees through everyone's ulterior motives in life. You've given up on love, until one day you meet someone you can't read. Upon making eye contact, a voice enters your head \"How you doin' 😉\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Here's my first draft, hope you enjoy!\n\nBert is alone in the world. He knows all that goes on in the minds of those around him. He sees what even they cannot, peering into the souls of passerby. A solemn life Bert leads, unable to connect with family as he peels back the facade of love to reveal a primal fear. A fear of the unknown. For Bert is different. Bert is the unknown, and has been since before he can remember.\n\nBert is not inherently smarter than most. Nor is he stronger, or faster, or even particularly clever. Bert, for all his exceedingly average traits, cannot surmount the fact that he possesses qualities unique to himself. Few know the extent of his powers, and even Bert himself does not wish to experiment for fear of widening the gap between himself and normality. Oftentimes, however, Bert finds that he cannot control himself, his mind blossoming unto a world not his own. It is as if Bert were stealing a glimpse of a film. A film never meant to be shared.\n\nAnd so, isolated and depressed, Bert decides to venture forth in search of, well, anything really. Even he, whose gaze transcends the physical plane, knows not what lies before him. So Bert begins to walk. At first, aimless, then with increasing passion, marching to a tune only he can hear. Then, for no apparent reason, he stops. Bert finds himself in front of the local train station, a place dear to his cold, broken heart. His father often brought Bert here to observe the trains. The trains and the people. All the exotic people from lands far away. This seems like a good place to start, as good a place as any. Bert buys himself a ticket, and passes through the gates, stepping onto the crowded platform.\n\nA wave of thoughts, all intertwining and flowing together slams into Bert. He takes several steps backward, feeling the pressure of so many open minds flowing into his own. Bert attempts to regain composure, yet just as his mind begins to clear, the platform is empty, and the shock of silence breaks him once more. Never before has Bert experienced something so intense, so dizzying, so frightening.\n\nStaggering towards a bench, Bert can hear the next train pulling to a stop, sending another wave of people and thoughts rushing into his head. This time, the onslaught is accompanied by old, familiar emotions; fear, regret, resentment, all vying for his attention amid the pounding of memories, thoughts, and feelings piling into himself.\n\nAnd again, just as Bert cannot take any more, there is silence. The platform has cleared, and Bert knows this is his chance to escape, his chance to rid himself of these alien thoughts. And yet, he cannot move.\n\nThe bench grows warm.\n\nThe train pulls away.\n\nA new train enters.\n\nBert remains.\n\nAs the third progression of people pour off the transport, Bert tenses himself, begins to cradle his head in his hands, and rocks back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth, waiting for his mind to begin its descent into madness once again.\n\nYet, this time, there is nothing. Bert peers about. At first, nothing seems to have changed. There are still people milling about, still a train awaiting departure, still Bert sitting on a bench. Then, softly at first, Bert begins to hear something. At first, he believes it to be a passerby on the phone, or perhaps a street artist. But no, this is something else.\n\nThe sound swells, and Bert begins to recognize it as music. He looks around for its source, but finds nothing. A crescendo, some complex chords, this must be a recording.\n\n“No, it certainly is not.”\n\nWhat was that? Around the corner? Through the door? Under the bench?\n\n“No, silly, I am right here.”\n\nWhat did that mean? Was Bert going crazy? Why was he referring to himself as Bert?\n\n“Well, I can’t answer that question, but I can tell you that Bert is a lovely name.”\n\nHow did she know his name? How did he know it was a she?\n\n“Hush now, the climax is coming.”\n\nBert froze, for he had forgotten the music. It began to flow ever more beautifully, and Bert felt as if he were being caressed, as if he were safe, as if the clouds had come to pass.\n\nAs the final notes rang and faded, Bert sagged onto the bench once more. He turned, and this time, a woman sat beside him.\n\n“Clair de Lune, Debussy 1905,” the woman said, never once moving.\n\nBert opened his mouth, but the woman’s finger was already up, pressed against his lips. She smelled of flowers.\n\n“Think, do not speak. Speak the language given to us alone. Speak in the tongue you wish so dearly to forget. For if you forget, then Bert you shall be no more.”\n\n“.”\n\n“Good. Try it again. Go on.”\n\n“.”\n\n“Bert.”\n\n“My name is Bert.”\n\n“And Christina is mine. Pleased to meet you Bert. Tell me, do you like music?”\n\n“I do not know, I’ve never thought about it. That song was beautiful though.”\n\n“I’m glad you liked it. As I said before, that was not a recording. There are many things you can do with your gift, Bert. All you have to do is think.”\n\n“I think I will.”\n\nThe woman chuckled, and Bert felt warmer than ever before.\n\nBert was no longer alone." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You have The Uncanny ability to understand and talk all languages, however you are constantly being pulled into Intergalactic and interplanetary squabbles when really all you want to do is open up a bakery." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Food replicators were so boring. Just tell the house AI what you want and it magically appeared. That wasn't for me. My house had that rare room, a kitchen. And it had not one but three ovens. There was something calming about baking and I was really good at it. All my friends would rave about my cakes, breads, cookies, and souffles. Better than the utilitarian and monotonous foods that came out of replicators. One of my friends even suggested opening a bakery. She then had to explain what a bakery was.\n\n\"It's like a store that people go to, to buy food. Baked food. I saw them all over Earth during my vacation,\" she said while shoveling pie into her mouth.\n\nI was enamored with the idea and began planning on opening one here, on Montgomery Colony. It would be the first of its kind on this world. But...\n\nThe call came through one Thursday (local) morning as I was working on an old exotic Earth recipe for a cookie with chunks of chocolate. A subspace call, from outside the system. The face of the Deputy of the Office of Diplomacy of the Imperial Sub-Bureaucracy of Colonial Affairs popped into view as I took the call.\n\n\"Hello, Bertie. Catch you at a bad time?\"\n\nI said something under my breath in New American Spanish that wasn't polite then switched back to Imperial Standard English, complete with that supercilious, fussy accent that all over-educated snobs, like the Deputy, affected.\n\n\"No, no not at all, Deputy. Just baking, you know.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes? Why not just use a replicator? Don't you have them on Montgomery?\"\n\n\"Of course, sir. Montgomery is an advanced colony. As you should know.\"\n\nThe image of the Deputy's face showed befuddlement. \"I should know? Why would I know?\"\n\n\"Don't you work for Colonial Affairs?\"\n\n\"There are hundreds of thousands of colonies, Bertie. Can't expect me to keep them all in my head,\" he grumped.\n\nI sighed and began putting my ingredients away. \"You've called on me numerous times. This would be the fifth time this month. I hoped you would learn a little something about my homeworld.\"\n\nTo his credit, he did look embarrassed. \"Sorry, Bertie. You're right. I'll should do better for friends of the Crown.\"\n\nI nodded. \"So why call me now, sir?\"\n\n\"Oh the usual. Need to employ that special talent of yours. Bit of a tiff in the Arthuran System.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" I placed my batter in the refrigerator. That cost me a pretty penny, had to get it imported from an Imperial Sovereign System. Luckily, I made quite a pile as a consulting diplomat and translator.\n\n\"Well,\" the Deputy dithered. \"It's actually more than a bit of a tiff. Enough to warrant my presence. And yours. Your ship launches in three days.\"\n\nI paused in my cleaning activities. \"I'm going on a ship? We're not doing this remotely?\"\n\n\"This is a trifle more dicey than a miners' strike or a contract dispute or salvagers fighting over a derelict. What do you know of the Arthuran System?\"\n\nI flogged my brain for information on the system. I felt bad that I called out the Deputy's lack of knowledge of my own world.\n\nI muttered something in High Martian Mandarin.\n\n\"What's that, Bertie?\"\n\n\"Nothing, Deputy. It sounds like something I read in twelfth year history.\"\n\n\"You should broaden your horizons. Don't just rely on your talent for languages. You need a hobby.\"\n\n\"I bake.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, of course.\" The Deputy harrumphed. \"The Arthuran System is where the War of Liberation started, the war that ended the alien Occupation of human worlds.\" The Occupation, of course. Over three centuries ago. Ancient history to a young teenager just discovering the joys of cooking and preparing foods and the later adult never gave it much thought.\n\nThe Deputy continued. \"The reason the system became the arsenal of the war is because of its unusual high volume of inhabitable worlds. Settlers flocked to the system during and after the war. Unlike most colonies, which are usually monoglot, Arthuran has a plethora of languages. Descendant variants of Chinese, Hindi, Arabic, Russian, English, what have you. One group is supposedly made up people that only speak Old Novan Dutch. Another speaks a creole of Diaspora Korean and Traveler French.\"\n\n\"Which is where I come in. But what exactly is the issue?\"\n\nThe Deputy looked grim. \"Rebellion. Insurrection. Secession.\"\n\n\"You're joking.\" Why would any human want to leave the protection of the Imperium.\n\n\"Wish I was, Bertie. Several human groups have already declared independence, while even more are attempting to use gunboat negotiations to receive concessions from the Crown. The only reason why the system hasn't already broken away from the Imperium is that these disparate groups don't get along with each other.\"\n\n\"What exactly will I be doing?\"\n\n\"What you do best. Assist with the translation teams and be on hand for the Colonial Affairs diplomatic teams.\"\n\n\"It's been awhile since I've been off planet. How long would this take?\"\n\n\"Ah. Bertie, sorry, but indefinitely. It would most certainly take months. Probably years.\"\n\nMy heart sank. So much for opening a bakery on Montgomery but duty called. Then I remembered something else...\n\n\"Sir, what did you mean by 'human groups'? Why that distinction?\"\n\n\"Well, the system wasn't exactly unoccupied when we humans showed up. And the natives have demands, too.\"\n\n\"Wait, native aliens?\" My accent dropped back into Rural Montgomerian English. \"Ah cern't spak alyan!\"\n\nThe Deputy looked confused. \"I didn't quite catch that, Bertie.\" There was a ping sound from his end. \"Sorry, Bertie, but I must hang up. A travel package and instructions will be streamed to you. See you in a week.\" The call ended.\n\nAliens! As far as I knew, my talent only worked with human languages. I could only hope that the Deputy could line up experts on xenolinguistics. I relaxed a bit. The Deputy was fussily precise. He would rely on me, but not just me.\n\nI sighed again and looked around my beloved kitchen. Months, maybe years away. And it sounded like I would constantly be traveling in system as well.\n\nI wondered if the ship's galley has an oven." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Martians have just made contact, and reveal that their religious system revolves around astral bodies, and Earth (\"The Blue God,\" as the Martians call it) is their head deity. You are sent as the first emissary to convince the Martians not to worship Humanity as angels and gods." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We hit orbit a few minutes ago, I was the lone human on this flying object. A strange feeling sitting all suited up from top to toe with glamorous robes and jewelery, next to an alien species who think you are exactly that.\n\nThe speech from The Head Council were on my lap, even though it was paper, it felt heavier than iron armor. My mind had crossed not to tell that speech, all they wanted back on Earth was gloryfication and wealth. Those poor fools. I know they will burn my corpse when I return, but that won't stop me for telling the Martians the truth.\n\n\"60 seconds till contact, please strap yourself in\".\n\nI tore the speech too shreads, and strapped on the safety buckles trying to clear my mind before my big moment.\n\nWe moved at 500km/h yet time stood still. Everything was running through my mind, all my family members, friends, loved ones. Nature's old beauty, trees and bushes and flowers and bees. The industry that spoiled all life on Earth but human's, redundant of their own greed.\n\nA big sound snapped me out, a jet motor turned on and half a second later we hit surface. I could already hear all the cheers and chants beyond the vessel's doors. I closed my eyes and thought of a baby, I'm not sure why, it symbolized new life for me.\n\nThe doors opened out to a balcony, as I walked out I noticed it was only raised about 6 meters from the ground. I gazed upon the millions and millions of Martian citizens, who where cheering and celebrating my godly arrival.\n\nMy mouth was a straw's length away from the microphone but I was completely silent.\n\nSlowly every being stopped their actions, their whole lives configured of the words I were about to say...\n\n\"Martians. I thank you for your hospitality.\" the words echoed far away.\n\n\"I Come in peace as human kind, but not as a godly figure\". It was like a stone dropped in a still lake, small ripples of unsure and worried minds.\n\n\"For I am no God, nor is any of my kinsmen. When you first arrived at our planet 51 days ago you were fooled. Our gorvernment disguised themselves as the Gods you thought they were, with one sole purpose.\" It seemed like a prick with a needle it could explode the atmosphere at any moment, the pressure was at it's highest.\n\n\"to drive your planet out of ressources.\"\n\nUnpleasent words flew up into the air & other Martians catched them, and repeated those words, with a feeling of betrayal and anger inside every being. As the crowd was raising it's voices higher and higher the picture of the little baby flashed by my eyes once more.\n\n\"But fear not citizens of Mars!\" Even I got surprised by my words.\n\n\"I came to tell you the truth. Mankind is not a holy species, the only way we survived and has survived on Earth for so long, is because of our brain. A part of the human body We have yet to understand.\" every being had their eyes on me, I was speechless yet my heart continued to speak.\n\n\" We don't want to kill you or harm you in any way, but some humans have no limitation on their own needs. I am not one of them, I was send here to persuade you all, a jester in disguise, but seeing every being here today, made me realize there must be limits!\n\nMy kind is beautiful, filled with love, goodness and solidarity. But the paths Mankind has chosen have left them in grief and dispair. For We are easily corrupted by our minds, thinking we want the unwantable no matter the cost.\n\nThat is the sole reason I stand before you now, and the sole reason I am telling you this.\"\n\nYou could almost hear every breath, every heartbeat, total silence..\n\n\" So forgive my kind, it doesn't know what it wants, as much as I don't know what to tell you.. All truth must come out, and everyone deserves the truth.\"\n\nThere I was, the only human being on Mars, and I was being celebrated like they did not understand a word. Millions of voices chimmed in harmony & happiness, like I WAS a God after all. The words my father told me finally came to good use.. Truth." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: How Breaking Bad would have progressed, had Jesse been killed off in the first season as was originally intended." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Writing this, I realize I'm in no way Vince Gilligan. We were happy to have such a good writer. It also made me realize that Jesse's really important to the plot.\n\nAfter Jesse's disappearance Walt is on edge. He knows who is responsible, Tuco Salamanca, but he doesn't know Jesse is dead. The news is revealed during a party at the White House. Hank makes remarks that set off Walt and he throws Hank out under the guise of \"insulting a former student\". Hank is a bit shocked and angry, but he let's Walt get away with it as Marie calms him down.\n\nSkyler confronts Walt as well about Jesse. Asking him if he had any idea how deep Jesse was in the drugworld. Walt denies in all colours, but keeps disappearing days on end.\n\nMeanwhile at the DEA Hank and Gomez are watching surveillance footage of the Methylamine theft. They are however disturbed by news of a mysterious murder. One of Tuco's men was found killed on one of the main streets of ABQ. This is the first of a series of violent murders all on men who work for Tuco.\n\nWalt is on a path of vengeance, using all his hard-earned money to hire hitmen (not the reliable kind he's after-all no Heisenberg yet) to take out Tuco's men. All in an attempt to lure out Tuco from hiding and kill him personally.\n\nHank and Gomez think Tuco is killing his own men to keep something quiet. So they set up a watch for Tuco.\n\nWalt meanwhile lures Tuco to the middle of nowhere to kill him. Just as he's about to ambush Tuco, the DEA arrive to arrest him. In the gun-fight that follows Walt escapes unseen and Hank ends up killing Tuco.\n\nWalt lays low for a little while, but soon he has to accept he has to start to cooking again. He seeks out a new partner, but unable to find one (not wanting to settle for the likes of Badger, Skinny Pete and Combo) sets out on his own. He needs to start from zero, the RV at Jesse's home has been taken away by the DEA.\n\nHe recovers some of the meth he sold to Tuco and starts selling it using Jesse's old friends. Until Badger is caught by an undercover DEA Agent and Walt ends up desperate. Late at night he ponders over his options and then the sound \"Better Call Saul\" rings from the television.\n\nHe makes a deal with Saul, who also sets up him with a new gig and a new place to work. Using Saul's contact: Mike... Walt now works for Gustavo Fring. Walt finds himself frustrated though, because in spite of the great work he does, he never gets to see Gus; a careful man. Instead all his interactions go through Mike.\n\nDue to the more comfortable situation, he doesn't miss the birth of his daughter. He does however estrange his wife, who keeps asking questions on where Walt works now. His lies keeps coming back to him, until she figures he is a drug-dealer, having every dot connected. She kicks him out of the house.\n\nThe Salamanca cousins arrive to avenge their cousin, Tuco and seek out Walter White (Heisenberg). They only have a description though, and their uncle Hector, who after Tuco's death now lives in a retirement home, cannot give them any valuable information.\n\nThey go to the meetings with Gus, where they demand to know what went down with the DEA and Tuco. Who killed all of Tuco's men, but Gus is honestly unable to give any info, except he slides them an article in which Hank Schrader is honoured for getting Tuco.\n\nHaving had no confrontation with Jesse, Hank's now a complete hero. But he suffers from ptsd and is weak. He is ambushed by the Salamanca brothers, and having had no warning the fight is a lot more brutal. He succeeds in killing both, but ends up in the hospital with severely lethal wounds.\n\nThe grieving White family gathers at the hospital as Hank is dying. Gus arrives to give his condolences. Walter is shocked to see Gus and confronts him, stating he can't possibly work together with Gus without ever interacting. Gus remains professional, but Walt keeps insisting, he wants answers... He wants to know if Gus knew anything about this.\n\nHank dies leaving the entire White family broken. Skyler has to focus on her sister-in-law who moves in with them, where she becomes a witness to the strained relationship between Walt and Skyler.\n\nGus eventually invites Walt over for dinner at his home, where he shown to be a family man like Walt is. After Walt leaves it turns out to be a complete ruse and the mystery that is Gus continues.\n\nWalter has to now work with Gale, who he realizes is being set up to replace after he dies. Instead Walt's luck turns and his cancer is gone.\n\nDuring his work with Gus, he sees Gus meet with Hector, there he realizes the connection with the Salamanca twins (seeing a picture of the twins in Hector's room).\n\nHe wants Walt to travel with him to Mexico to show the recipe to the cartel. As they arrive there, Walt is present as Gus kills the entire Cartel. In the gun-fight that follows Mike is gunned down. Walt figures out this is the Cartel that also killed Hank and starts asking more and more questions.\n\nGus states he figured out that Walt is responsible for the attacks on Tuco's men after Jesse's death. He states that Hank's death is his own fault. Walt becomes angry and says will go to the DEA and admit to everything... Taking Gus down with him. Gus threatens Walt and his family.\n\nWalt still tries to escape. Skyler still gave the money to Ted. Walt breaks down, now more than ever. He goes to Tio Salamance and sets up the bomb that kills Gus.\n\nMeanwhile Steve Gomez is putting together the puzzle of who killed his friend. He has discovered that hitmen were used to kill Tuco's men. He finds one and he speaks... revealing a robot picture of Walter White.\n\nOvercome with what he has done, Walt is depressed. He is alone... no family... no friends... no Jesse. Everyone dead because of his doing. He realizes the DEA is on to him and kills himself." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You're the toughest cop on the toughest beat in town. Much to your dismay, your latent Disney Princess-powers are starting to manifest" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She was the toughest cop on the toughest beat, feared in the hood and within the station. She took no shit, dashed out the tough love where it was needed, and never backed down. She'd had some close calls, lost a few partners along the way, but she was still standing. No one could keep Martha \"Tough\" Love down.\n\n\"Some tough love coming through , get outta my way y'all\" she called as she hauled another drug dealer through the precinct, slamming him into his cell and sliding it shut with a bang. The other officers looked on with expressions of awe and respect, nodding at each other and affirming how bad-ass she was. She was a big girl, 6ft tall and wider than most NFL linebackers. She could handle most grown men like little kids, and she enjoyed doing so.\n\n\"Martha!\" called the Precinct Chief, \"We've got a situation down below the freeway near 4th street, undercover cop has been compromised, needs support ASAP. Take whoever you can and get down there and keep him alive, until SWAT arrive. Be warned, it's hot\"\n\nShe didn't miss a beat, strolling past him while grabbing the cup of joe and bag of doughnuts on her desk in one swoop, not even stopping. As she reached the doorway, she turned on her heels and declared to the department, \"I got this\" before donning her sunglasses and walking out, the door swinging closed behind her. Damn, she made this look good.\n\nShe organised the backup once in her car and began the solo ride down to the freeway. She didn't have a new partner still, but it was too soon for her. Not just anyone could replace Cortez.\n\n\"Don't worry, Cortez, some Tough love about to go down\" she said, bro-fisting the picture on the dash of a serious looking man, clad in police uniform.\n\nA few other cars pulled into formation with her as she arrived at the scene, below a large freeway intersection. She spotted her man immediately, pinned down by fire with several men closing in on his position. He was already hurt. Martha drove her car between him and the attackers, making them back off, drawing their fire. By the looks of it, it was the Cartel.\n\nMan , she hated the Cartel.\n\nAs she stepped out of her car, ignoring the pandemonium and standing tall like she always did, everything suddenly felt a bit strange. She had the uncontrollable urge to sing, something she had never done in her life. She fought it, but as a little bird came and landed on her shoulder, her resistance fell. As the bullets rained all around, she felt a bursting joy in her heart.\n\n\"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!\" she belted out a high-pitched note in perfect clarity, sweet and soft. Everyone around her stopped, her fellow officers lost for words, the Cartel exchanging confused glances with one another.\n\nShe cleared her throat. From nowhere , a hip-hop beat began.\n\n\"Uh, uh, yeah, yeah\" she began to rap, jigging to and fro as everyone just stared open-mouthed, too stunned to shoot.\n\n\"Y'all bad guys wanna come up in my hood, dealing drugs, shooting guns acting like you never reached adult-hood\"\n\n\"Well, Martha Love gonna teach you a lesson this time, run back to your brothers and spread my rhymes, uh, uh , yeah, yeah\"\n\nShe had reached the nearest cartel member with her jigging and gesturing movements, who had dropped his gun and begun to reluctantly move one shoulder to the beat.\n\n\"Amigo, what the fuck are you doing?\" another Cartel member shouted.\n\nHe tried to make it stop, but little by little the rest of his body came into sync. Before long, he was along side her, emphasising her movements and echoing the \"uhs\" and the \"yeahs\".\n\n\"Now , I tell you what we're going to do, we gonna jiggy on down to the iron-zoo\"\n\n\"Gonna take some names, get your photo real nice, and if you play good you get a pizza slice\"\n\n\"Yeah, we get a pizza slice, uh\" the Cartel member beside her parroted.\n\nWhat the fuck was this? Martha thought to her dismay . What the hell was going on? This rapping is terrible! Suddenly , she had control over her self, quickly reaching for her gun and aiming it at the nearest bad guy. They too seemed to be coming out of the spell, or whatever it was. Shots echoed out everywhere. A burning pain tore into Martha's side, and she fell onto the floor heavy and face first. \"Whhhyyyy does it haveeee to be thissss wayy.....\" she began to try and sing through the dust and blood in her mouth.\n\n\"Quick amigo, shut her up before it starts again!\" she heard someone yell, and a big leather boot came to greet her face and send her into unconsciousness.\n\nShe awoke in a hospital bed, flowers and cards all round her, various tubes and machines tied into her arms and hands. She pressed a small button attached to her finger to get help. She needed water, her throat was too dry to sing.....wait, what? Sing? She rammed the button several more times impatiently, suppressing the urge.\n\nAgain, music began out of nowhere, a growing ochestra as the nurse breezed in and opened the window, multiple birds flying in just as she did.\n\nMartha stared. What in gods name was happening to her.\n\nr/fatdragon for fatdragons" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Every 103 years, five kids are chosen to be the modern version of the Greek Gods. (Persephone, Athena, Hades, Dionysus, basically any Greek god) You were chosen as one of the five." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Now, for what everyone’s been waiting for, the selection!” Karina said, Karina had been the selector after the very first selection about 700,091 years ago where she was chosen as the modern day (then, now) Nike, goddess of victory. Since then there had been 6,797 selections and 33,985 kids chosen. Some were lucky enough to live through the excruciating pain of becoming a god—and of course stay sane—and others...not so much. Some would go insane, their godly abilities being ripped from them, and others simply died.\n\nThe way the system worked was that the old gods still existed, at least the ones who haven’t been replaced yet, and the one’s who’s turn it was to choose a successor would come down, choose, and then that kid would be put through ten grueling trials to see if they were worthy of being that god. The trials were all created individually based on the gods.\n\nCurrently the only gods who haven’t gotten a successor where the twelve olympians. And this time the five coming down were Aphrodite, Artemis, Athena, Apollo, and Ares.\n\nAlexios was nervous. While it was a great honor to become a god, he wasn’t sure he would be able to survive. He couldn’t die, his little brother had already been forced to watch their older brother die from just the trials alone. No telling what getting the full power would’ve done to him.\n\n“Would everyone please welcome Ares, Artemis, Athena, Apollo, Aphrodite!” Karina continued, everyone present bowing politely as the gods all appeared in a flash of light.\n\nAres was the first to step up. He was a large, buff, tanned man that had multiple swords on his back. “I choose Agnes, daughter of Clara and Stacy.” He said. Everyone clapped as a strong looking girl with horns and her own gun holster on her hip walked up onto stage and kneeled before Ares.\n\nApollo was next up, and he looked like if you took a celebrity male and threw him in armor and gave him a sword. He had long blonde hair and softly tanned skin with a few scars here and there. “I choose...” he trailed off as he seemed to critique everyone in the crowd, “Jason. Son of Perseus and Emily.” The boy that walked up to the stage was short, lean, and pale. He was wearing an orange shirt and was smiling like nothing could ever hurt him. Alexios briefly wondered how someone could smile like that when people were being killed off in the hundreds everyday. Like Agnes, everyone clapped as he kneeled before Apollo.\n\nNext up was Aphrodite, who stood tall with long black hair that almost reached the ground, a perfect body (according to society anyways, Alexios thinks that body shaming was something that should be punishable because everyone’s beautiful in their own way. But he’s not the one in charge.) and a toga on with some minimal makeup on her sun kissed skin. She smiled sweetly at the crowd before speaking, “I choose Berabip. Daughter of Cleo and Zamar.” That girl that stood up had pale skin and blonde hair that framed her hair perfectly. She looked to be short, even with a pair of heeled boots on.\n\nAthena walked forward with her head proudly in the air, her brown hair pulled tightly into a bun, her eyes glowed a warm, motherly yellow, and the dress she wore was a cream color. She sighed and scanned the crowd with a soft gaze, “I choose John, son of Maria.” The boy that...well he didn’t exactly stand up. He more or less stumbled to his feet and clumsily made his way up to the stage. He was tall, with shirt black hair and shiny gray eyes. As he walked past Alexios, somebody in front of him tripped John. Alexios quickly got up and helped up the boy, who gave him a small smile and a thanks, before turning and giving a glare to the kid who had tripped John. John made the rest of the way safely and kneeled before Athena.\n\nLastly was Artemis, and that fact made Alexios relax slightly because of the fact that the goddess was completely anti-man. The goddess stood proudly, with her silver hair pulled into a bun and matching eyes that scanned the crowd with a distasteful glare. She wore simple armor and had a bow against her back, matching arrows along with it. Once Artemis has chosen her successor then, if they succeeded, then Artemis’s current hunters would be disbanded. Artemis huffed and snarled slightly a she spoke, “My successor will be Alexios. Son of none, but brother to Samson and William.” The crowd collectively gasped, Alexios included. She had chosen a boy.\n\nAlexios gulped down his nerves and stood up, he wasn’t tall. At all. In fact he was plenty short for a thirteen year old boy, only being 5’0. He only weighed 130 lbs, although most of that was more because of muscle than anything. He had choppy, short, blood red hair, freckles and paler skin than should be possible. His under eye bags spoke for his insomnia by itself, and he wore a pair of metal frame glasses. His eyes were a pale blue and his hands were shaky.\n\nHe didn’t feel like he could be Artemis at all. But he was going to try his hardest.\n\nOnce he got in front of Artemis and kneeled, she whispered low enough for only him to hear, “You’ll do well, son. And for as to why I chose you...” Alexios saw a small quirk of her lips, “I think you’ll find out the more you get to making friends.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: Upon us entering intergalactic civilization, we discover that the Milky Way wasn't where we came from, but where we were banished to. All of civilization is horrified that we survived and returned from the universe's harshest galaxy." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Clint looked up at the screen and couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. A scene recorded long before human history was an idea to be passed down. Long before his ancestors had made their first trek out of Africa and into the wider world.\n\n“As you can see,” Nygel XVI began. “We’re a little… hesitant to welcome you back into the fold.”\n\nThe screen sped through images of camps, drab concrete fortresses where millions of alien races worked until they fell dead, building the ancient human network across the universe. A network that was apparently still in operation today, one that these alien races used to zip from one galaxy to another, but were adamant that modern humans stay clear of.\n\n“No,” Clint shook his head. “We evolved on Earth, from chimpanzees. That doesn’t make any sense.” He looked away from the scene of a firing squad opening up on a mob of what looked like child sized creatures. He fought through the nausea. “There must be some mistake.”\n\n“No mistake,” Eeryn Sune, Viceroy of the Callanin System, said. “We used various gene editing techniques to send you back an evolutionary step or two. It was only a matter of time before your DNA expressed and mutated itself back.”\n\nNygel XVI slammed his green hand down on the table. “You were supposed to perish! But you didn’t even have the decency for that!”\n\nHolding up his hands, feeling the various eyes on him, Clint said, “Come on, my people can’t be held responsible for what some ancient version of our race did, what, millions of years ago? Not that I believe any of this. I mean, come on. De-evolve? Is that even a thing?”\n\n“Let me ask you this,” Eeryn started in a calm voice. Clint raised an eyebrow. She appeared all but human, yet she seemed to carry just as much hatred for homo sapiens as the other alien races, it was just a little better concealed. “Haven’t you ever wondered why it is that your kind can’t get along with the other species of your planet? You’re an invasive species on the entirety of Earth. How many animal, plants, and other kinds of life have gone extinct from your touch?”\n\n“We put you there to perish!” Nygel XVI pounded the table again. His once droopy ears were standing straight up toward the skylight above.\n\nEeryn held up a hand. “Please, your eminence.” She turned back to Clint. “It’s true. You weren’t meant to survive. The list of all the predators that should have devoured your ancestor's children, it’s a wonder we’re at the same table speaking.”\n\n“Seems like a cruel thing to do,” Clint said. “If you’re all so high and mighty, why not just lock us up? Surely you could figure out a way to strand us on a safer planet? What your ancestors did sounds just as malicious as what you claim mine to have done.”\n\n“Oh, we have ways of imprisoning different races,” Eeryn said. “Leave them on a planet with too large of a gravity well for conventional rockets to escape, stunting their exploration. Or, better yet, make sure they don’t have access to any useful metals.” She shrugged. “Those kind of planets are a challenge to find, but not impossible.”\n\n“You. Were. Supposed. To. Perish!” Nygel XVI shouted so fiercely that spittle flew across the desk. “We couldn’t strand you on some planet. Your kind has a way of slithering out from your shackles and then strangling everyone around you with them.” He turned to the others at the table. “Are we really going to disgrace our ancestors? Talking with this… human?”\n\nThe way he said the word human made Clint feel a moment of shame. He shouldn’t, but damn did the guy have such disgust in his voice that Clint felt it in his bones. It was as if some part of his DNA, a holdover from that ancient side of him, knew that Nygel was speaking the truth.\n\n“What do we have to do to prove that we aren’t the monsters you claim us to be?” Clint asked. “We want to travel the stars.” He raised his hands as gasps erupted around the room. “In a peaceful way!”\n\n“The Ruin Bringers,” Eeryn whispered. “You could help us fight them.”\n\nA floating cloud of blue began to buzz into speech, “Eveeeen if the humaaaans could do somethiiiiing about the Ruin Bringeeeeers…” It seemed to shudder, ripples moved up and down along its bulbous mist of a body. “They wouuuuuuld just turn on us neeeeext. I agree wiiiiiith Nygel. They should have perisheeeeed.”\n\n“Exactly!” Nygel XVI shouted with a slap on the table.\n\n“It wasn’t so long ago that our people were at each other’s throats, was it?” Eeryn raised an eyebrow to Nygel XVI. “How many dead on both sides? How many centuries of hate wiped clean under the Treaty of Merquant?”\n\n“That was different.” Nygel XVI snorted. “Yours is a civilized race.” He glared at Clint. “Though you do resemble the humans, you’re nothing like them on the inside. Where it counts.”\n\n“Perhaps we’ve evolved to be like her people,” Clint said. He rose from the table and walked over to Eeryn. “I don’t know these Ruin Bringers, but if joining forces is what it takes, we’ll do anything to show you that we come as allies. As friends.”\n\n“It’s possible,” Eeryn said. “Though it’s not certain.” She shrugged. “There’s only so much our scientists can gleam from so far back, but there’s a theory—a controversial one—that the Sune and humans might have shared a distant ancestor.”\n\n“So the good that it’s in you might have found its way in us,” Clint reasoned. “Let us help you. In return we’ll follow the guidelines of Galactic Expansion. To the letter.”\n\nThe floating cloud of blue, Clint couldn’t recall the name, said, “We do neeeeeeed the help. The Ruin Bringeeeeeers have breached the Horse Head nebulaaaaaaa. Our people are evacuating as we speaaaaaak.” The cloud turned to Eeryn, or at least Clint thought it did. “Do you vouch for theeeeeem, Viceroy Sune?”\n\nEeryn nodded. “I do.” She looked over to Clint. “For now.”\n\n“You are crazy!” Nygel XVI shouted. “All of you are to entertain this for one microt.”\n\n“What else can we do?” Eeryn asked. “We’re at war and we’re losing. Now we find out the most ruthless species to have ever roamed the galaxies is back.” She winced as Clint frowned. “Sorry, but it’s the truth.”\n\n“If you want to tie your fate with these humans, then so be it.” Nygel XVI pointed a green finger at her. “I won’t vote for this unless every human soldier has a Sune counterpart. To keep a very close eye on them. To cut their throats when they inevitably overstep.”\n\nClint watched as Eeryn seemed to weigh the decision. We do look so much alike, he thought. Why did they seem so different then?\n\nShe rose from her chair and stuck an elbow out to him. After Clint stared at it blankly, not knowing what the gesture meant, Eeryn grabbed his arm and forced his elbow against hers. Clint followed her lead and brought his hand close to hers, where they met and interlocked fingers.\n\n“I’ll stand beside you, if you stand beside me.” Her mouth was a tight line. Clint could see the flex of her jaw muscles. Did she think she was making a mistake?\n\n“I will,” Clint said with a nod. He'd prove her trust was right.\n\n“You better,” she said. “Or I’ll kill you myself.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You are an innocent bystander who immersed yourself into a school bully's group of mean kids in order to be safe from his harassment. Everyone associates you with him, and you decide to stand up to him at the most important time possible in order to show the school who you really are." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alyssa MacArthur is mean. It's a really simple fact. My fake best friend is mean. She is a bully. I don't even like her and she claims we're best friends.\n\nHold on. Pause!\n\nStep back.\n\nHi, I'm Carter Elizabeth Owens. I'm sixteen, I like reading and dancing. I speak three languages and go to church every Sunday. I volunteer at the local orphanage and was to be a Pediatrician. I'm also best friends with the meanest chick in my high school.\n\nNow, you're probably wondering how that happened. I'll tell you, because, to be honest, I've had enough of her crap to last me a lifetime.\n\nIt started in middle school, about seventh grade. Alyssa was new in town and everyone thought is was cool. After all, in a place where bullies were few and far between and cliques were non existent, it meant a new friend for everyone. It was utterly BS.\n\nAlyssa MacArthur blew into our town like a hurricane threw a fishing village and before anyone knew it, our entire dynamic had changed. Cliques popped up over night as friends either started fighting or banded together to protect each other and anyone left out of a group was fair game. That's how I ended up as one of Alyssa's friends. It was horrible. I hated that she changed my school's dynamic. I hated that, as we got older, she forced those of us in her group to change ourselves to fit her wants. The other girls became bullies and we all looked like little Alyssa clones. My previously brown hair is now bleached blonde and I have to wear contact lenses instead of glasses.\n\nI hoped this year would change things. After all, we were seniors now and my little sister would be a freshman. I was very excited. I showed Nina to the office, helped her get her schedule and locker, showed her where to go, and had dropped her off in front of her first class all before Alyssa had even gotten to school. It was going to be a good day, despite being a Monday and the first day back at school.\n\nI had spoken too soon. It was lunch time and I had just made it to the cafeteria. The world was silent. I looked around and spotted the cause of the quiet easily enough. Alyssa had my sister's hair clenched in a fist as Nina tried to pull away without hurting herself. Alyssa was whispering in my sister's ear and Nina had tears cascading down her red cheeks.\n\nNo, this does not happen. Not to my sister. I don't care about anyone else, this was my baby sister. I was glad I wore sneakers today as I bolted across the lunch room and to the pair of girls. When I reached them I reached out my right hand and grabbed Alyssa's wrist and my sister's shoulder.\n\n\"Let go of her,\" I hissed as I tightened my hold on Alyssa. The blonde Barbie shot me a look that told me to fuck off. I squeezed her wrist harder. \"Let go of my sister MacArthur, before I have to do something drastic,\" I threatened.\n\n\"Katie,\" Nina whimpered and she tried to pull her hair from Alyssa's hand. \"Katie, it hurts, make her stop.\" My sister was in pain.\n\nI let of of Nina's shoulder and pointed to a freshman boy who stood near us. \"Go get a teacher. I don't care who. Get them and don't you dare let them tell you no.\" He nodded and dashed off. I turned my attention back to the pissed off Alyssa and pained Nina.\n\n\"What the hell Kate, I'm just telling the stupid brat to go sit with the other losers,\" Alyssa complains as my now free hand encircles her wrist already trapped in my other hand.\n\nI increase the pressure on her wrist again and glare at her. \"You know, when you first got here, we were all excited. We were a happy community without prejudice and hate. You created that in us. Now you reap what you sow. You hurt my sister Alyssa, now you can suffer the consequences.\" I added more pressure and her delicate wrist snapped. She let go of Nina, just as a teacher and the freshman I had sent off, came up to us. I ignored them and turned to gather my baby sister in my arms and hold her, trying to calm her down as our parents were called." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: \"Hi, welcome to the apartment. It's great to have you as my new roommate. You seem really chill. But, uh, please remember the rules dictated in the agreement you signed. We do not under any circumstances eat duck meat around here. And remember... My room is off limits on the full moon.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That’s what Chris said when I first entered his apartment...\n\nI thought it quite weird at the time, but I quickly found we had similar interests, we both like the same TV shows and foods. (I didn’t like the taste of duck anyway)\n\nI figured it was probably a religious thing, like Muslims don’t eat pork right? He didn’t look much like a religious person however... perhaps he had a pet duck who died a terrible death. but I didn’t feel like questioning him about the subject much, it felt rude. I figured nothing strange was up.\n\nI was very wrong...\n\nOf course every night there was a full moon, he would go to bed early. I joked of him being a werewolf a few times to which he nervously chuckled, I was certain he couldn’t be a werewolf because I didn’t hear many weird noises coming from his room.\n\nOne day I worked overtime, and got home late, bringing some fast food. I totally didn’t notice the moon and forgot about what he told me.\n\nThat night I went to his room (this usually was a time he was up on non-full moon nights, only like 8 something PM) I opened his door “Hey Chris I broug- huh?” I cut myself off. Chris was nowhere to be found in his room, instead there was something sleeping on his bed..\n\nIt was a duck! I came to the conclusion he secretly had a pet duck, and didn’t feel comfortable telling me about it. I closed to door as not to disturb his pet (as I thought at the time) and decided to check if the bathroom lights were on, they weren’t. Chris was nowhere to be found in the whole house.\n\nI figured he probably worked overtime today as well. I decided to eat my burger and put Chris’s in the fridge for later. When I finished I thought about watching a show, but instead I decided I should bond with Chris’s secret pet.\n\nSo I went to his room quietly, and pet the sleeping duck. I decided to sleep with it, like you would a cat or a dog... so I gently picked him- her? I wasn’t sure how to tell a ducks gender. I picked it up, without waking it, and carefully put it on my bed. I cuddled with the sleeping duck, which I didn’t think was weird at the time but if I knew then what I did now... well I’ll get to it.\n\nEventually I fell asleep. I slept pretty well to be honest, when I woke up I checked if the duck was still there... Chris was laying with me!\n\n“WHAT THE HECK?” I yelled\n\n“Mghmm” Chris groaned waking up.\n\n“Why are you NAKED in MY BED!” I was visibly very angry\n\n“Uhh, I don’t remember going to bed here!” Chris said, clearly embarrassed and sweating. Covering himself in my blankets.\n\nI realized something, the duck was gone\n\n“Where did the duck go?” I asked.\n\n“The duck?-“ Chris asked, he seemed to be getting even more embarrassed by the second.\n\n“Yeah the duck in your room, why didn’t you tell me you had a pet duck? More importantly WHY ARE YOU IN MY BED?!”\n\nHe had a look on his face like I asked him to shove glass down his throat.\n\n“Uhhh... Wait you WENT INTO MY ROOM?” Chris asked\n\n“Yeah-“ I admitted.\n\nChris cut me off. “IT WAS A FULL MOON LAST NIGHT, YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO DO THAT!”\n\n“I DIDN’T KNOW!” I replied\n\nThen something clicked in my brain\n\nWhen the duck was around Chris wasn’t...\n\nWhen Chris was around the duck wasn’t...\n\nI began to ask him “Wait, Chris? The duck... was it... was it you?” I asked, awkwardly.\n\nHe looked more embarrassed then I was. “Honestly... yes it was me....”\n\nI felt weird knowing I snuggled with my roommate last night. “This explains everything” I said “the full moon thing, why you don’t want to eat duck... I was kind of right when I joked that you were a werewolf...”\n\nHe nodded “It’s been a secret for generations of my family! Please don’t tell anyone...” he begged.\n\n“I won’t...” I continued “Just please don’t kick me out of the apartment...”\n\n“That uh... sounds like a deal..” Chris said. “Just let me get dressed... and we can just not talk about this again...”\n\n“Yes” I agreed.\n\nWe then continued as normal, with only a few talks about it. no one else has to know. I wouldn’t want Chris in a government laboratory... So we just carry on our lives like we had before, only I tease him about it before full moon nights by throwing bread into his room." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: After coming home from a particularly hard day, your loving pet dog comes over to comfort you. After a while of cuddling and confiding you realize that wait a minute ... you don't have a dog." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The smell of pollution and soot hang off my clothes as I work through the door. An off-putting smell, not quite nauseating but close to it. At the very least, it hides the cigarette smoke. The wife hates it - the smoking - but working at the mill, I breath a whole lot worse for eight hours a day. I never saw the benefit of not smoking. My old man tried to quit once. Tried, being the keyword. He had success for the better part of a year. We could all see it was hell for him, as it was for us, too. Ma bought the wrong sauce during that year and it was the only time I was concerned about him laying his hands on her, maliciously. And what’s the benefit? Fifty percent chance I die of lung cancer, fifty percent I watch everyone I care for perish. I’ve seen people experience both of those, neither is pretty. I guess life just isn’t pretty.\n\nI toss my work clothes on the bathroom floor and start the shower. The water always takes too damn long to heat up, especially this time of year. After an extra ten dollars tacked itself onto my water bill, I slid under the stream. This is the most rewarding part of my day. Reflection, introspection, whatever you want to call it. It seems so much clearer in the shower. To add to it, I’ve been getting slimmer. Good for me.\n\nThe water shuts off and I dry myself. The wife always sleeps early so I grab my clean clothes silently. She always looks goofy while she sleeps. I’d never tell her that, she must think she looks like an angel. In a way she does, but a goofy angel nonetheless. I creep my way into the room by the door and sit. There’s a familiar nudge at my leg.\n\n“Get up here, girl,” I whisper while patting my sad. Sassy jumped up onto me with a thud. Her long, golden hair immediately clung to my clean shirt as she let her weight lean into mine.\n\n“It was a day, that’s for sure girl,” I say, as my throat starts to give out. I can feel the burn in my eyes, my sinuses kick in, the tears welling above my cheeks. “It was another tough one, I didn’t do good.\"\n\nI don’t have a dog. Not anymore.\n\n“I miss you, girl. I miss you both. I was a damn fool, driving that road, driving that late. A fucking moron. That’s me.”\n\nMy heart aches. At least I’ve been getting slimmer.\n\n“I stole again today, girl. Took a bike. From a kid. A God-damned kid. Pawned it for $20. My hookup had a baggie waiting for me, didn’t even have to call. Didn’t even call.”\n\nI’ve seen people watching everyone they care for perish. I’ve been the one watching, I’ve been the one perish. It’s not pretty. I guess life just isn’t pretty.\n\n“I’m so lost without you guys. I don’t know what to to girl. That stupid fucking night on that stupid fucking road took it all. It took everything from me. My love, my family, my life. And it’s all my fault. All of it.”\n\nThere’s a knock at the door. I open it to see a familiar pair of high heels below a familiar skirt. The heels strut silently across the carpet in the glow of the motel sign and drop a kit onto the kit.\n\n“Get cooking,” the heels slur.\n\nThe smell of pollution and soot hang off the heel’s clothes as she sits on the bed. An off-putting smell, not quite nauseating but close to it. At the very least, it hides the smell of our friend, H." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: An incredible discovery leaves all humans biologically immortal. While most people are rejoicing the end of death, one question still remains: what to do with convicts with life sentences?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Chauncey, be a dear and bring us more coffee please.” grinned the Secretary of State Bishop. Like the good butler that he was trained to be, Chauncey brought more coffee for the meeting, wordlessly and silently. Not making eye contact, trying hard to be invisible.\n\n“I say we leave them where they are, their criminals for god sake! Who will care in the long run?” drolled Vice President Calloway. He had a glazed look in his eye that usually meant he would rather be eating than in the Oval Office arguing with half the White House. The President didn’t even seem to be paying attention. The immortal prisoner crisis had been going on for a week now with no end in sight. Riots erupted in jails all across the world in response to their new found immortality. Why bother pretending to be an anyway decent person if you knew that nobody could ever kill you? That’s that thought process of a lot of the prisoners anyway. Or so Chauncey Heard that is. He heard a lot being a worker in the White House. Probably more than he should.\n\n“And risk losing the black vote come the midterms?” sneered the Secretary of Defense Collins. “We would kiss our positions goodbye. No. We need to release them. Maybe not today or tomorrow at some point.” Collin’s concern was authentic, Chauncey could tell and for that alone he liked him. Seeing the people who came and went from the Oval Office, authenticity wasn’t a word he would use to describe most of them.\n\n“We could have a lottery system? Some of the more well-behaved ones get out now while the others must wait. That could help incentivise the end of the riots. The prisoners wouldn’t want to ruin their chances of walking free.” Bishop yawned as she leaned back on her chair, trying not to look as bored of all this as she was.\n\nThe President lifted an eyebrow in response which Chauncey had learned that this meant he would soon start talking and this meeting wouldn’t last much longer.\n\n“That’s actually quite smart, Caroline.” beamed Calloway, who took a not so subtle look up and down Bishop's body as he said it. Collin’s sat forward in his chair, his back hunched over and his hand rubbing the stubble on his chin.\n\n“While a lottery system really is morally repugnant, I feel like it probably has the best chance of working. I don’t like it sir.” the Secretary of Defense said, addressing the President directly now. “But I think it is our best course of action.”\n\nCollins, Bishop and Calloway all turned and looked at the President, awaiting his final judgment on the matter. Ten seconds go by. Twenty. Thirty. When it got close to a minute without a word being spoken, Vice-President Calloway finally cleared his throat and spoke up.\n\n“Mr President, what do you think?” he asked tentatively. Curious glances flickered between the three underlings, slightly fearful at the President's usual silence.\n\n“I quit.” smiled the President. Bishop's eyes widened like she had seen a ghost while Collins and Calloway smiled at their leader's words.\n\n“But sir…” started the Secretary of State, her hands reaching out as life to stop it all from happening.\n\n“But nothing Caroline. I’ve made my decision. I was elected leader of a country full of mortal people but this? I don’t think I was quite made for dealing with an immortal prisoner dilemma.” He pushed a button on his desk. Straight away his assistant appeared at the door.\n\n“What can I get you, sir?” she asked with a wide smile. The President didn’t answer immediately, he took a long look around the room first. Finally he turned back to his assistant and spoke.\n\n“Yes Julianne. Would you please start setting up for a public press conference this afternoon. I have an announcement to make.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: As a cleric of Life, you battled Death worshippers for years now. But ever since that new \"Undeath\" thing appeared, an alliance was put in place, since neither side likes when natural order is disturbed. And yeah, your Death cleric partner is kinda cute, but those weird whispers creep you out." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The road to Galtir crossed a barren wasteland, devoid of any semblance of the brightness of life. Benedict was not accustomed to traveling this way, as the road was only recently opened to Guardians of Life such as himself. There was little to look at, just husks of long ago fallen oaks and pines, and the occasional skeleton of a deer lost from the nearest forest. But those waned as the road went on, further into the desert. Even the sky, which stretched unhindered in every direction, seemed dreary and tinged with melancholy hues which weighed heavily on Benedict’s spirit. Nothing stirred on the ground or sky. The journey would have actually been quite boring but for his companion Lora, a Priestess of Death.\n\nThe two walked in silence, each keeping their focus on the road ahead. The sun blazed from above, threatening to blanket any traveler with its unbearable heat. Benedict had a broad elephant ear leaf which he had grown from the desert sand and strapped it to his pack to keep in its shade. He glanced disparagingly over to Lora as she walked underneath a grey cumulus cloud which she had cast overhead to capture and consume the sun’s rays. \n\n“It’s ghastly how you cover yourself,” Benedict said, breaking an hours-long silence. \n\nLora kept her eyes forward, ignoring his attempt to rile her. He studied her grey face, wondering if she painted it to look so dreadful or if her spirit was truly so warped that even her body was drained of life. She could have been pretty if her spirit leaned toward different powers, or so he thought. Still, he couldn’t help but imagine her in the white and yellow robes of the Guardians, and how radiant she would be. It made him sad, realizing he wouldn’t ever get to see such a thing, that she chose to worship death over life.\n\n“It’s unfortunate that you shroud yourself with darkness, hiding from the living world around you, longing for misery and death. Can you not long for anything joyful?”\n\n“Silence would bring me joy,” she spat.\n\nWith a sigh, Benedict turned his eyes back to the road and the emptiness surrounding them, though he couldn’t keep a half-smile from escaping his lips for getting under her skin. As he walked, he mourned the absence of life, the lack of color, the silence. An idea rolled around in his mind, something to brighten his mood and keep him occupied along the way. He began rubbing his hands together, sparks of light loosely drifting away from his fingertips until he released the energy with open palms. A wave rippled through the air, an invisible disturbance arcing off to the road before them. When it struck the ground, a tree sprouted from the road and grew into a flowering jacaranda dressed in bright purple. \n\n“Look,” Benedict said, “how can you see this and not be amazed by the glory of life and - ”\n\n“Enough!” Lora yelled, sending a blast of dark energy at Benedict’s feet, tearing up the road in front of him. A lattice of vines shot up from the ground, growing up and over Benedict as he guided them as a shield around himself. He braced for a second attack, but there was none.\n\n“You’re just as unnatural as they are!” she yelled. “The Undead are alive when they should not be. So, too, do you give life where it is not. Death is the only conclusion to all things. It is the only natural way.”\n\n“How dare you compare me to those horrid creatures! They are no closer to Life than the Death you worship.”\n\n“Let’s just get on with it,” she said. “We need to get the word from the Alliance to Galtir before it’s too late.” But Benedict stayed still under the shelter of the vines. A moment later, his vines began withering, and he saw Lora working her hands to carve a hole in his shield. He placed his own hands on the ground, sending writhing roots under the surface which burst out beside Lora and wrapped around her legs.\n\n“Let me go!” she screamed. “I didn't mean to attack you. I was just trying to get you to shut up!” But the roots crept further up her body. A glow of black and violet grew from her hands, turning the roots she could touch to dust. But she struggled to keep them all at bay as they grew and wrapped around her tighter. “LET ME GO!” \n\nThe roots released Lora and retreated to the ground. She lay on the road as Benedict came out from behind his withered vines. He offered to lift her up, but she swatted his hand away. \n\n“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just thought…”\n\n“Look,” she interrupted as she helped herself up, “it should be just a few more hours until we reach Galtir. Let’s just get there before we kill each other and screw up the whole mission. We were enemies before, we’ll be enemies again. After this is all over, we can kill each other for real if you want.”\n\n“Fine,” Benedict said. “On with it, then.”\n\nThe two started again down the road, both hoping to see the towers of Galtir soon on the horizon. Benedict was ready to be done with his companion, with the mission, with the whole Alliance. But something nagged at him while they continued in silence. How close was he really to killing someone who was supposed to trust him? Was he still much better than those who worship Death, or even the Undead themselves?\n\nHad Lora been right about him?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You are it. Death. The Grim reaper. The soul harvester. It is time. You have waited for this for eons. Your father is ill & frail but his time has come. It’s time to harvest God." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I remember when I was chosen as the grim reaper. God called me down when I was just a young angel. He had said this was a new experiment. He called them humans. People who would have a soul and free will. With this free will they could decide how pious or devout they chose to be. Those who led generally good lives will be treated to a good afterlife. Those who did not would suffer in the underworld.\n\nI was to be the guide to all the souls. I did not have to judge them but simply be the courier of the souls to the appropriate afterlife.\n\nI was given many names throughout history. Mictlantecuhtli, Thanatos, Hel, Osiris, Ah Puch, Yan Wang, Arawn, Mot, Yama, I could go on. Thousands of religions viewed me as the end all be all say when it came to death. Some viewed me as a God and feared me. Others viewed me with respect of my efforts. Some saw me simply as an angel who served a higher being.\n\nThousands and thousands of years I did my job. I remember seeing the various depictions the religions would give me and would emulate it when it came to call the person of that religion to their end. Throughout the years I did make one observation. Everything will die. Humans, animals, the figures and statues they erect; all of it will be consumed.\n\nSo it came to me as no surprise when I was called up by my father. The man who created me. He sometimes took up a figure of a goddess of fertility, or a vengeful and angry Lord.\n\nToday he showed me a figure of an old man. He said that he has grown ill and felt that his time was coming. I approached him and asked what caused this. He simply told me that as I’ve noticed, everything perishes, himself included.\n\nRecently, I had taken on the Western opinion of death, the grim reaper. When he touched my hand my disguise disappeared and I appeared as I had the first day he approached me. My skin olive in complexion, my muscles firm and taut as the day I first decided to work as death.\n\nHe looked at me with a half smile and said he wanted to remember how I looked all those millennia ago. I looked back at him with welled up eyes. I was witnessing the last few moments of my creator. His frail figure a massive difference from his youthful figure from back then. His skin sagging and his hands bony. His arm moved with a certain shake as if he was trembling.\n\nHe grabbed my arm once again and with that he began to impart all of the knowledge of the universe. How it all began, how it will all end. The criteria in which one would enter the afterlife, what beliefs would fall to the wayside and which ones would linger on.\n\nI wept as I saw nature was being demolished and eventually reclaiming land, as children grew up and became adults, repeating the cycle. All of this was too much for me.\n\nI pleaded with him that I could not take his place. He told me there was no reason to argue. He had chosen me for my bravery in times of difficulty. He wished me all the best as I saw his last breathes become labored.\n\nI knew what would happen next. I’ve seen this before a million times. I knew what I had to do. His grip on my hand became weak and eventually he let go of my hand, his hand falling down to the floor.\n\nI did not have to do much as his figure simply disintegrated into dust. I took a small staff he had left behind and approached his throne. As I sat down, the angels who had worked for him knelt at my direction. I had ascended to the highest level.\n\nI approached an angel and requested that he take my old position as death. I wanted to remind him that one day everything will perish, including me and he will one day take over the throne." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You are an actor who most people refer to as a perfectionist because you embody your characters completely. In your next project, you are playing the role of a serial killer. You do your usual research & start working on the movie. Unfortunately, the acting isn't enough for you anymore..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I consider myself a method acting master, a guru of the craft. It’s no secret that my success is a result of throwing myself into each role and becoming the character I portray. This has never been too much of a problem before, sure it’s put strains on relationships and caused rifts but that’s always been the character causing problems, not me. Recently however, I realized that I’d never actually fully committed to a role before. I'd been spies, soldiers and mobsters but I'd never actually understood what it was like to kill a man, never pulled the trigger and seen the life drain from my victim’s eyes.\n\nThat, of course, had to change. I became obsessed with the idea that I was a fraud, my awards meant nothing if I was just like any other ‘method’ actor. Not committing, not really living as their character. I felt like a fraud, a method actor-lite, the free trial of a brilliant artist I knew I was, and could be.\n\nIt turns out killing someone is actually very easy, significantly easier than films make it out to be. My character, ‘The Poacher’ in an upcoming biopic of the prolific serial killer, only killed their victims after buying them a few drinks which made things easier still. I just went to a bar, got instantly recognized and struck up a conversation with a delightful young lady who said she was a big fan, I’m sure she’d be happy to know her sacrifice was for another one of my roles. She was out of town, a tourist, which meant she didn’t have any friends or family in the area, nobody to miss her.\n\nI had my driver pick us up, on the ride home I could feel the anticipation grow inside me. Not the normal kind of anticipation that you have when you have a beautiful girl coming back to your place after a night of flirting and stolen glances, something deeper, something animal. The Poacher didn't have an exact murder routine so I figured there was some leeway. When we made it back to mine I poured us a drink and started making conversation, trying to figure out the best way to do it. I wasn’t scared, I wasn't even worried, I was excited.\n\nWe sat on my sofa, cuddling and giggling as you would. It was at the end of the sofa that I saw my weapon of choice, a solid bronze statue of Buddha that I’d picked up after living with some monks in Thailand for one of my roles. I love irony, and I’m sure the poacher did too. I stood up and gestured for her to head upstairs, as she started walking I gripped the statue and without a second thought swung. It made contact with a satisfying clunk, like hitting a boiled egg with a teaspoon. The woman limply fell to the floor. I rolled her over to look at me, I held her head in my hands as I felt her life drain. I thanked her just as her eyes closed for the final time.\n\nThat was it, easy. Hollywood being Hollywood I just had to make a phone call to a friend of a friend and the problem had disappeared, leaving nothing but a small dent in my Buddha statue. I love being famous. But there is one thing I realized I loved more, the thrill of murder. The immense rush you get when you pass that point of no return. That was my first murder, but it won’t be my last. The Poacher killed an estimated 15 people and so will I. That best actress Oscar was within my grasp." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You've been transformed into a girl. While researching for a way to change back, you decide to attend a gaming night with some friends, not anticipating their reactions to your new appearance..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I knocked on the door and then turned my back to it, looking down at myself. My clothes were all way too big on me. I had been...well, pretty large before. All of my clothes were XL, and my new body was decidedly not. I had lost nearly a foot in height since...the incident.\n\nI had gone from 6'2\" to 5'3\", my short black hair had grown down to my shoulder blades, and I had gone from...okay, fairly ugly to at least an 8 out of 10. The kind of face you'd see on a model with nice plump lips and a cute little nose and big hazel eyes. I was petite now, save for my large breasts and curvy hips and butt.\n\nAnd my huge sweatshirt that now came down nearly to my knees, my button up shirt that was equally huge, and my jeans that had to be rolled up several times and held up by a belt that had to have an extra hole cut in it just to fit only made me look even smaller.\n\nI heard the door click open and turned to see my friend Larry standing there. His eyes widened a bit when he saw me.\n\n\"Sam? You...uh, showed up.\" Larry said.\n\nI nodded, then had to brush some hair out of my face. \"Yeah, I...I needed to get out for a bit.\"\n\n\"Not having much luck in reversing...this?\"\n\nI shook my head. \"Not really. All I can find online are stories, and no libraries have had anything in them.\"\n\nLarry nodded, looking down at the end.\n\nI shoved my hands into my pockets and looked up at him. \"So...can I come in?\"\n\n\"Oh, yeah. Right.\" Larry said, stepping out of the way. I walked in, then heard him chuckle. \"What's with the flip flops? Getting a little cold, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Don't have any other shoes that fit.\"\n\nLarry nodded and closed the door and stepped in. We both walked to the living room where Neil and John were sitting. They both looked up as we walked in.\n\n\"Oh, Sam...hey.\" Neil said. \"What's up.\"\n\nI forced a smile and shrugged. \"Not much. How's it going guys?\"\n\n\"Alright.\" John said. \"We were just gonna play some Halo. You in?\"\n\nI nodded and walked in. I took a seat in one of the recliners. Neil held a controller out to me, and I took it. Larry took a seat between Neil and John on the couch, and we started the round.\n\nWe played for about half an hour, some small talk all the while, before Larry excused himself to order some pizza and Neil decided to set up some Smash Bros.\n\n\"So...\" John said. \"How you holding up?\"\n\n\"Alright.\" I said. \"Still looking for some way to get back to normal.\"\n\n\"No luck yet?\" Neil asked.\n\n\"Nope. Turns out finding any info on magic is pretty tough.\" I said.\n\n\"So...what's it like?\" John asked.\n\n\"Fucking weird, man.\" I said. \"I'm tiny, can't reach a bunch of stuff in my apartment. I keep bumping into stuff with my hips and ass. And the boobs, man. They're so weird.\"\n\n\"Still, you can play with them whenever you want. And a pussy. Must be nice.\"\n\n\"Wouldn't know. It's too weird to mess with them.\" I said. \"Especially...down there.\"\n\n\"Seriously? You're passing up this chance.\"\n\n\"It's not really an opportunity, in my mind. Just a burden.\"\n\n\"Well, uh...do you think...?\" John looked nervous, then just let out a breath. \"Do you think I could feel them?\"\n\nNeil's head turned and looked to John, then me.\n\nI looked down, where my breasts were pushing out my sweatshirt. I knew this was likely to come up at some point. My friends and I were nerds, plain and simple. We never got anywhere close to making moves on girls. And for them, to have their friend suddenly become an attractive girl?\n\n\"I...I guess so. Just really quick, to get it over with, alright?\"\n\n\"Seriously?\" Neil asked.\n\nI nodded, keeping my head down. \"Honestly, if the shoe was on the other foot, I would probably ask too. So...sure. Just make it quick.\"\n\nJohn jumped off the couch and approached me, while Neil watched. John raised his hands slowly, moving toward my chest. Then, quickly, he grabbed me. Hard.\n\nI flinched as he groped me, and let a hiss of pain out. \"Too hard, man.\" I said.\n\n\"Sorry.\" John replied, his face turning red.\n\nHe groped me for a few more seconds, softer than before but still a bit too rough, then let go. He was grinning slightly. \"Nice.\"\n\n\"Hey, um...could I...?\"\n\n\"Sure, Neil. Just make it quick.\" Neil got to his feet and approached, and slowly grabbed my breasts. He was much softer than John, just carefully kneading me through my clothing.\n\n\"The fuck is going on in here?\" Larry asked as he walked in.\n\n\"Oh, uh, Sam was just...letting us...\"\n\n\"Jesus, guys...\" Larry said.\n\n\"I said it was okay.\" I said, pulling Neil's hands off of me. \"Just to get everything off the table.\"\n\n\"You gonna give it a go, Lar?\" John asked.\n\n\"The fuck, man? Nice of you to offer for me.\" I said.\n\n\"She...sorry, he's not a piece of meat, guys.\" Larry said.\n\n\"I...I figured it was fair.\" John said.\n\n\"I...guess it is.\" I said. \"If you want to Larry, it's fine.\"\n\nLarry looked conflicted, then shrugged. \"I guess, just so it doesn't come up again.\"\n\nLarry approached, not looking as excited as the others had. He was probably the most \"normal\" of us. He had a girlfriend until about a year ago. He wouldn't be as starved for this as the other two.\n\nHe moved his hands to my breasts and started to massage them. After a few seconds, his thumbs found my nipples and began rubbing them.\n\nHis touch sent a jolt of pleasure through me, and I let out a soft moan. My eyes widened and Larry pulled his hands back. Neil and John looked at each other.\n\nI forced a cough and cleared my throat, feeling my face heating up. \"So, Smash?\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah. Smash.\" Larry said. He grabbed his controller and turned the system on.\n\n\"Normal rules? Tournament rules, loser drinks a shot?\"\n\nEveryone looked to me, and I could feel the pressure building. They were wondering if I would back down, if I would go against our long standing tradition.\n\n\"Yeah. Normal rules.\" I said.\n\n\"I'll get the glasses and booze.\" Neil said.\n\nLarry handed out the controllers, and a few minutes later we were playing." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A squad of soldiers has their dead teammates replaced by robots as the war drags on until only one is left. For some reason, she still treats and talks to them as though they were her human friends." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Friendship is an odd thing. Sometimes its short. Sometimes its long. Sometimes its longer than life.\n\nAnia had been on the battlefield for a long time. This war had been going decades and she had been in the thick of it since the beginning of the Trappist war. She had been at the fall of Paramount city and had plundered what she needed from the pillaging of Enus. Ania had fought great titans made from the alien metals of Selroliv. Throughout her fighting she had become a war hero to the many who knew her, and a legend to those who had had not.\n\nDespite the stories told of her, they failed to mention those that she fought with. When she began her campaign long ago, it had not been alone. Many had joined her in the Great Crusade, themselves notable figures and fighters in their own right. Lennox of Gasiclite was perhaps the greatest of the Ladies, with grand estates stretching from the mountains of Atania to the skyswamps of Togryke. Yet she had been the first to fall, and the first to lead the path to whatever came after death.\n\nYear after year, the Great ladies fought and fell with fierce Bravery. Juliana of Machyke had been impaled by a flailing QuQuarrel. Channah of Nucrurus had given her life in order to push back the fierce fiends of Dioliv. The sisters of The Beacon had disappeared in the mayhem of the Thoatis retreat. But they had disappeared into obscurity, and the few accounts that would survive and name them as righteous fighter would be tossed aside in name of more interesting evidence. That was perhaps a curse they would bear for the rest of the universe's lifetime.\n\nAnia instead fought with few fellow fleshlings, growing increasingly reliant upon the use of robots. This was the main reason she had become renowned through the decades by her own side. Robots were an extremely controversial weapon. Only the barbaric forces of the enemy dared to use them. The cold, metal carcassess possessed no soul in the fight, and hence no favor of the Gods. This would be why they would win instead of the enemy. The sacrifice of their souls for the greater good would beat back the cold machines with a force their feeble silicon brains could not calculate.\n\nBut the robots Ania 'used' were in fact not soulless. At least, Ania was sure they weren't. She knew how robots worked, through the experience of stabbing her Damascus blade through too many Steel plates to count. She knew how they acted, with the strange quirks they would make before attacking. Her fellow fighters showed none of this.\n\nThey never spoke to her; the design of the mechanical bodies had not factored in vocal chords. But they had factored in eyes, with different ways to focus them, and eyes could say more than a few well placed sound bytes. Whilst the design only had hands built to hold guns, fingers could still point and sign. And whilst the robots were never meant to take in orders from a human, they would never have been allowed off the factory line without audio sensors.\n\nSometimes, when it was the right time of the 30-hour day, Ania could make out the unbridled confidence in unit A325. Sometimes, when in the smoke of battle, unit N230 could be seen looking out for any object zooming through the air. Sometimes, when her group was set upon by an ambush, unit B590 was ready to kill anything to save them all. Sometimes, when it seemed like all hope was lost, there were always 2 unaccounted robots ready to reenter battle.\n\nAnia had seen the roots of the trees, and the souls within the metal bodies her friends used. They were limited through their second lives, damned to never feel the blow of the wind against their cheeks. But they were there for Ania. The Sisterhood, even through death, would always be there for each other.\n\nSo whilst the robots could never respond vocally to Ania, there was always one thing they could do: listen.\n\nAfter all, that's what friends are for." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: It’s been weeks since you heard from your friend, so you decide to check in on them. You find them in their backyard, at the bottom of a deep hole. When you inquire with concern, they simply hand you a shovel. Yes; after all, the hole needs to be dug." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It had been weeks since Calvin had heard from Dan, so he went to check on him. Good thing he did, because when he arrived Dan stood shoulders deep into a hole he was digging right in his backyard.\n\n“Why’re you digging that hole, Dan?”\n\nDan didn’t respond. He didn’t even have the decency to look up to his friend. He grunted and just kept on digging. As if somehow his life depended on it or something.\n\n“Earth to Dan, you’re digging like a madman and I’m kinda getting worried over here,” Calvin tried again.\n\nDan stopped digging and looked up at Calvin. His pupils small and the white of his eyes eerily visible.\n\n“There’s a second shovel in the shed,” he said.\n\nCalvin didn’t really feel like digging, but if it would get him closer to an answer he’d do it to be a good friend. So he walked to the shed and picked up the second shovel that lay there, just as Dan had said.\n\nCalvin jumped into the hole and stuck the blade into the black earth beneath. Digging with his friend like a couple of toddlers in a sandbox. As he kept digging an odd sense of purpose and tranquillity took hold of him. Maybe it was right to be digging, Calvin thought to himself.\n\n“So, why are we doing this?” Calvin asked again, not expecting any real answers, but he owed it to himself to keep trying anyway.\n\n“Because the hole needs to be dug,” Dan replied as he kept digging furiously.\n\nCalvin wanted to retort to that, but found himself at a loss of words. Not because the idea seemed silly, but because it did – in fact – not seem that silly at all. And so the two kept on digging until night fell.\n\n“Shouldn’t we stop?” asked Calvin, wiping off the sweat from his forehead.\n\n“I don’t know, should we?” replied Dan.\n\n“Nah, we don’t” replied Calvin. The words escaping from his lips, before he even consciously noticed it.\n\nThe inner struggle only lasted for a couple of seconds before that odd sense of purpose took over again. Calvin knew he had to keep digging even if part of him didn’t know why and really wanted to know.\n\nTwo days they had been at it. No food, little water. They had picked up the pace after the first day as well. Both Dan and Calvin now stood at the bottom of a genuinely impressive hole in the ground. No way to get out of it, but they weren’t concerned. All they cared about was digging. No questions were asked anymore, externally or internally. This hole needed digging and they needed to be that once that did it. Calvin even feared he might die if he stopped doing it. He knew that thought should scare him, but it didn’t. As he kept shoving that blade into the earth he remarked how at ease he was. Like he should’ve done this way earlier.\n\nThey had been digging for over a week now. Two men visibly thinner and obviously dehydrated that kept on digging like there wasn’t a care in the world. Their water had run out over four days ago, but they didn’t care. They had passed through multiple layers of rock with ease, an unnatural ease as the hard substance had only meant they had to dig a little harder. Fossils had been uncovered with little notion and the dark earth had made way for gravel and sand. The bottom of the hole that wasn’t there yet had been calling to them. A call they would die for to answer.\n\nPolice cars rolled up to the house and Sergeant Thomssen stepped out of his pick up truck. Neighbors had called in worried about the resident of this place as they had seen him digging with a friend and failed to see him return to the house after that. The house itself was dark and when they walked up the front porch they found the door locked so needed to go around the back. Two officers kicked open the port to the backyard with drawn weapons and checked for any threats before putting away their guns.\n\n“Sergeant, check this hole,” called one of the officers up ahead.\n\nThomssen walked up to the edge of the massive empty space that had been dug over the course of weeks.\n\n“Oh god, what’s that down there,” he asked as he turned his head, trying not to heave the content of his stomach on the two mummified bodies at the bottom.\n\nIt had taken a couple of minutes for the cops to get the equipment necessary to scale the depths and check on what had happened to these poor souls. At the bottom Sergeant Thomsson grabbed one of the shovels that lay next to the dried up human remains of Calvin.\n\n“What do you think they were digging for?” He asked a cop named Tim.\n\n“I don’t know, Sir,” he replied. “Aren’t you curious to find out?”\n\nThomsson knew this was a strange reply, wholly unprofessional. Yet he couldn’t find it in himself to reprimand Tim. Instead he did feel the urge within himself to dig and find out. That thought scared him, but he grabbed the second shovel and threw it to Tim.\n\n“Only one way to find out!” he yelled as he plunged the blade into the earth below.\n\nAs he started digging he felt the conflict disappear and an odd sense of tranquillity and purpose took a hold of him. This hole needed digging and if he wasn’t going to do it who would, he figured.\n\n(If you liked this story, please feel welcome at r/zeekoeswriting to read my other stories!)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: The prince and princess of a kingdom have every month invited one lucky peasant girl each to share their bed with them for a night. This month, however, they both want the same girl. Describe what happens." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As sister and I sat in our carriage being pulled through the peasant town, we scoped out which lovers we would want next.\n\nIn our kingdom, as royalty, we had the privilege of sleeping with any person of a lesser class that we wanted and as an act of charity, we made ourselves the rule of each choosing a peasant to bed once a month.\n\nIt was a win for the peasants because one random member in their ranks would experience a week of luxury, a night of passion (or more than one night if we really liked each other), and gain a yearly payment from the monarchy, should the night(s) of passion result in a bastard child (either from the prince impregnating the maiden or from the princess being impregnated from a lover she chose, after our wizard confirmed that it was our child).\n\nIt was a win for us because we got to choose which peasants we wanted bedded once a month while maintaining public favor towards keeping our monarchy in power.\n\nOf course, my sister is a lesbian and my parents are committed in marriage so the only bastard children our family had to deal with were from my affairs and I tried my best to be a good father so they would not try to overtake the throne.\n\nWhile we went down the streets, we started talking to ourselves about who we wanted.\n\n\"I think that red-head's kinda cute.\", I said as I looked through the crowds greeting our parade.\n\n\"Mhm...That brunette who's quietly talking to her friend seems cuter though,\" my sister replied.\n\nThat was when a blonde maiden caught both our eyes. Her ample bosom was large but not unsightly, her face had a symmetrical quality to it, and her smile had no visibly damaged teeth. I quickly sent my servant to bring her an invitation before whispering, \"I call her\" to my sister.\n\n\"I saw her first though,\" my sister replied. \"Also, I sent a servant for her already.\"\n\n\"Well, so did I.\"\n\nWe both realized quickly that we had both chosen her and would be unable to send another invitation.\n\n\"Fine, we'll discuss this when we get back to the castle,\" I muttered to my sister as we smiled and waved through the town as the carriage pulled us back to the castle.\n\nWhile the peasant girl was being cleaned in private by our servants and her items being examined by guards to ensure that no assassination attempts would be made, I went into my sister's bedroom and locked the door.\n\n\"We have to discuss how we are to handle this matter.\" I said in a serious tone.\n\n\"What's the matter?\", my sister replied nonchalantly\n\n\"About how we are to both bed this maiden?\"\n\n\"Relax. We've shared our toys when we were kids. How's this any different?\"\n\nI stood there trying to come up with a response, but she said, \"Look, why don't we both play with her tonight and if you're uncomfortable, you can leave and try playing with her tomorrow? I WILL warn you, though, after I'm done with her tonight, she'll be too tired to give you as...pleasurable...of a night the next day.\", winking at me before she unlocked the door and walked out.\n\nThat night, we had a great feast as part of the experience of grandeur that the peasant would get to experience. Everyone ate, drank, sung, and danced until it was late in the night.\n\nI noticed my sister drunkenly walking, her arm over the maiden, back to her quarters and I realized it would be my chance.\n\nI followed them before I slipped into the bedroom and said, \"Hey sis, don't say you were trying to have some fun without me.\", as they already started disrobing.\n\n\"Oi, I was wondering when you'd join us,\" my sister said with a drunken grin, her nude body in front of me with her hands on the maiden's bosom, causing the hot blonde to blush shyly.\n\nWith a grin, I locked the door, pulled off my leggings, and let my hard member spring free.\n\nI was going to enjoy this." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: \"But I'm real enough, aren't I? Real enough for you to bother with me.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "> TRANSMISSION INCOMING\n\n> KNOWN POCKET UNIVERSE CORRECTLY IDENTIFIED AS 0...1: BURGUNDY.\n\n\t> ENTRY 0...5. TITLE PROVIDED: REALITY. AUTHOR ID 0...2.\n\n1/8/1999\n\nAnother storm blew through town last night. Killed many of the lights. Will have to hunker down and wait for the snow levels to be under a foot. Might be waiting a while.\n\n1/9/1999\n\nStill stuck inside. Hotel owner walked in today, asked for more pay. I am running low on cash and energy. Our exchange went something like this:\n\n“Hey, you’re staying here a bit longer than expected. You will have to pay for the extra nights.”\n\nI handed over the cash and resumed the warmth of having a blanket wrapped around me. Being a florida native, you understand, makes this hell on earth.\n\nHe, surprisingly, handed me back the cash. “Keep it,” he said, “I don’t need\n\nthe extra income anyway.” I acknowledged his kindness with a nod of gratitude.\n\nHe inspected the room for a bit. I had covered the hole in the floor with a blanket, but he was smarter than that. It wasn’t too deep - but it was deep enough to leave an impression.\n\nA look of mild surprise crossed his face, but he didn’t say anything. I had told him the purpose of the machine a day earlier. Maybe I will take note of our conversation later, when the snow has subsided.\n\nI would kill for any warm drink at this point.\n\n1/10/1999\n\nSnow is at half the level it was two days ago, which means it’s only a foot and a half high. I won’t be leaving this place for a while.\n\nSince I have nothing better to do than write in this and check my phone in hopes of gaining service, I will note the two interesting things that happened today.\n\nFirst: Machine ticked up today.\n\n> X = (109/36)\n\nI expected it to happen and checked the new level of reality. I’m sure I could have predicted it with math but I spent most of yesterday sleeping.\n\n> REALITY = 84.97% (A)\n\nEven as I write this the side effects of a lack of reality are beginning to show. No sane city in america should have this level of snow, and I’ve heard of other strange happenings around the town.\n\nThe proprietor of the hotel looked on as I recorded these readings.\n\n“So the city, then,” he said, “it’s breaking apart?”\n\n“Somewhat.” I replied. “The reality of the city - things are going to get more and more unrealistic. Within 3 years your city will reach a 2% reality rate. Once something impossible happens…” I make a motion with my hands. Boom. “That’s the end.”\n\nHe pauses. “But I’m real enough, aren’t I? Real enough for you to bother with me.”\n\n“I suppose things that are predetermined - you, for instance - won’t change, but the events in this city will.” I wait for a reply. None comes. “Things will start getting strange. I’d get out while you still can.”\n\nHe sighs. “It’s been such a nice and quiet city for so long.”\n\n“It won’t be quiet for much longer.”\n\n1/11/1999\n\nI am heading out today. I can only hope the residents of this city get out while they still can. As for me - I will do what I am able to slow the rate of decline, but it’s a little bit like trying to stop a boulder rolling down a hill - once that boulder is gone, it’s gone. I can only hope all the residents of the city want to leave…\n\n\t> EOF" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: For bring your pet to school day, you brought your dog, Doggo. You saw a bunch of other pets. Cats, birds, fish, lizards, and others. But when it was one kid’s turn, they painted the wall red and opened a portal for a fire breathing dragon, that Doggo was already friends with." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I remember one time when I was young, we had bring a pet day in school. Most kids had pets then. The normal you would expect: cats, birds, dogs and the like. I, of course, brought Steve. By now everyone knows Steve. He was a very unique individual. I say individual because Steve could talk. No, not like an everyday dog. Steve actually spoke English. Well, I heard him anyways. Noone else understood him. They only heard the bark, woof, bark of your everyday dog. But Steve could really talk. I was ridiculed and laughed at for years. My own family wouldn't believe me. To this day, I think Steve just liked me and allowed me to really hear him.\n\nHe was mostly happy. Was upset about not having \"a bitch\" but my parents refused to get another pet. I guess he could have just found one but he seemed to have a very particular type. That or he was just content as it was. We would talk about soo many things! Why I went to school and left him all day. Why the taller humans yelled at me all the time. Why I couldn't give him more bacon. He had a lot of questions. I never really had the answers. But it didn't matter. We understood each other. He was always there when I was left out for talking to him. He slept with me every night, telling me that one day I would thank him for it. He was always saying that one day I would thank him. But I was already thankful for him.\n\nThis bring a pet to school day turned out to be different. The world was changed that day and I had a front seat. Jack. It was Jack that did it. When it was Jack's turn to show his pet, he got up, and drew on the chalkboard in red marker. The teacher started to yell at him but by then it was too late. Jack somehow drew a portal and out of this portal came a Dragon! This Dragon was a small thing, perhaps a baby. But it already knew how to breathe fire and Jack commanded it to show the class! The art we had done earlier in the day was the victim this day. Dragon burped and looked at Jack. And then Dragon looked at Steve and I was never so scared as I was then. Would Dragon breathe fire on Steve?\n\nSteve walked from my side, ignoring my pleas for him not to. Steve then did the most amazing thing: Steve talked to Dragon. And everyone heard him this time.\n\n\"Your HIghness, I see you found your way.\" Steve said. Dragon looked at him then nodded as only a dragon could. \"I have. I am glad to see you arrived before me. Is this the one then?\" His Highness asked, looking at me.\n\n\"She is, your highness. I've been with her for many years now and no matter the obstacle, she has persevered. She has remained kind and giving when she had many an opportunity to be cruel. She is the one you are looking for.\"\n\nNow I was scared, but hearing Steve say all those nice things about me did something to me. I was proud for once. Proud of who I was and who Steve was. I looked at Jack's Dragon and said that I would do whatever it was asked of me but only if Steve would be by my side. The Dragon looked at me, then Steve then me again.\n\n\"It is good to have friends you can count on, especially where we are going. Your request will be granted. It is time to go Steve. Bring your human. We have a realm to save and my father is not a patient Dragon.\"\n\nIt was a good bring a pet to school day. I often reminisce how it all began. And today more than any. Steve is in my arms, dying, and I can only hold him and wish for another portal back to that day. Maybe if I had said no, he would be alive today, an old doggo, living off bacon and sleeping in my bed." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: In an act of sympathy, a serial murderer carefully allows his kidnapped victim one phone call to a loved one to say good bye. Describe this heartfelt exchange - and the subtle clues the victim leaves as to his whereabouts." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jerry sat in the school desk, not that he had much of any choice, as he was tied and chained to it. He had gone to this school, he knew this room, at least sort of. He was pretty sure this had been his Spanish 1 classroom, but it was too covered in pentagrams, blood, and chalk drawings to be certain. Jerry looked at the man in front of him, the man wore a rooster mask and a letterman jacket, both were completely soaked in blood. The mask was often worn by students to games and the letterman jacket belonged to the school, which had been abandoned for over twenty years.\n\nJerry pondered that the monster in front of him might have been a classmate getting revenge. Jerry had been the stereotypical jock in high school, and that meant he had bullied a lot of people, it seems to have bit him in the ass in the end. Was this man Quentin, the kid who always wore a trenchcoat and loved the occult? Was he Arnold, the small nerdy kid with red hair and freckles. He supposed it didn't matter now.\n\nThe man walked forward, held out a disposable phone, and said \"Say your goodbye heathen, you were a terrible person, but Mary wasn't, and she deserves to be able to say goodbye.\" Jerry took the phone with his shaking hand, he tried to punch in the first number, then he remembered that he had lost that particular finger, along with three others a few days ago. He typed in the number with his pinkie. Jerry called, and the psychopath put it on speaker.\n\n\"Hello?,\" answered Mary\n\n\"Hey, babe,\" he replied weakly\n\n\"Jerry, where are you?\"\n\n\"Tell her and I'll gut you, pig,\" the masked psychopath interrupted.\n\n\"Who was that?\"\n\n\"I'm a bit tied up, seems I'm the Rooster Reapers, umm, next.\"\n\n\"Dear God, tell me where you are!\"\n\nJerry thought to himself. He couldn't tell her directly where he was or else the Rooster Reaper would gut him. I had to discreetly tell her.\n\n\"I can't tell you, but listen to me, I love you. I've loved you ever since High School, I was such a jerk. I tried to bully kids in order to get your attention, but that only made you hate me. I always tried to get your attention. I remember the first time you finally said yes, our first date was a high school football game, and we won. Then we bummed around the school, its a shame its abandoned now, I would've loved to taken you back for our first date anniversary. Maybe after I die, you should come back here to relive memories, that is if its not too painful for you that is. I love you.\"\n\nOver the phone he heard his wife's cry. Jerry hoped that the message would've gotten across. The masked man came over and hung up the phone.\n\n\"Touching, I honestly feel bad for her, too bad I don't feel bad for you.\" the Reaper said\n\nJerry sat there to work against the restraints. The psychopath moved closer, Jerry had to delay for time.\n\n\"Why?\" Jerry asked.\n\n\"Why? I guess you don't know how I even am. You ruined my life, you stole everything from me. I hate you, everyone who sat where you are, they should have been my friends, but instead you took them. YOU TOOK THEM FROM ME. I killed them so that I could claim them again. You're the last kill, pig.\" the psycho shrieked.\n\nHe drew closer with the knife, and right as he was against Jerry's skin, the sirens sounded. The psychopath just smiled. He removed his mask, and Jerry was horrified to see himself.\n\n\"I always wonder why they kept you, and why I was left to rot in the hellhole that is foster care.\" the second Jerry said, \"I guess mom and pop could only afford one of us, and they chose the one who was born first.\" The second Jerry began to take off clothes and switch them with Jerry.\n\n\"The name is Manny by the way.\" said the second Jerry\n\nManny worked the whole psychopath getup off, reached over, and dumped acid on Jerry's face, hoping to erase the similarities. Manny worked on Jerry's clothes, and put the serial killer get-up on Jerry. Manny sat Jerry on his chair, and tied himself into the desk. As Jerry sat there dying, he heard Manny say \"Peace out, brother.\" and then the police broke down the door, and shot Jerry dead.\n\nManny was released from the chains, now under the identity of Jerry King." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Santa turns naughty spoiled girls into obedient bimbo sluts before giving them away as gifts next Christmas." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The gift that keeps on giving\n\nMercedes Miller had been a real brat that year.  She got drunk and totaled two cars, punched out a waitress at a bar, and cheated on her boyfriend, Chuck, so many times that she honestly lost track.  It had been a rough year for everyone around Mercedes. All of that was going to end for the poor people this twenty three year old hellion tormented though.\n\nSanta had a special plan for this naughty girl. Of course it wasn't any trouble to squeeze one more stop in and slide the passed out woman into his bag.  She had gotten drunk and slept with her boyfriend's brother at his Christmas party, so Santa was sure no one would be looking for her for a bit anyways.\n\nThe first few months were uneventful.  Mercedes needed time to adjust, but after some quiet time alone, Mercedes agreed to start pitching in with the elves.  Learning to live without the alcohol was hard too, but the elves kept giving her a special hot chocolate that calmed her down.  \n\nBy June, the foul mouthed Mercedes Miller was building toys with the elves and singing Christmas carols to pass the time.  This was around the time Santa started visiting the workshop.  She was not usually I to older or bigger guys, but six months of singing with the cheerful childlike elves made her appreciate the presence of a man.  \n\nBefore Christmas this blonde bombshell was used to getting one dick a day, minimum.  Since that night the only attention she got was her own hands.  Whenever she wasn't building toys or singing Christmas songs she was hiding in her room fingering herself silly.  The second time Santa visited the workshop, Mercedes made a point to bump into him.\n\nMercedes felt like a fool flirting in the ugly Christmas sweater they gave her to wear but it seemed to do the trick.  She was hoping he would be all clumsy and grateful for her attention like most men were.  However Santa was confident and obviously in control.  \"Miss Miller, you seem to be doing much better since we picked you up.\"  He said as he clasped a strong hand on her shoulder.  Mercedes couldn't find an answer as she was too busy imagining him thrusting into her while holding both her shoulders.\n\n\"Y-yeah.  It's been very… helpful.\" Mercedes had never felt this awkward talking to a guy before.  \"I was wondering if I could meet with you in your office and show you my… appreciation.\"  The words sounded sexy and confident in her head but came out like a stumbling mess.  \"Y-your off… office?\" Was about all she managed to say.\n\nThe large man looked down at her with icy blue twinkling eyes and nodded. \"Now, young woman, what would you like?\" He asked in a friendly voice as he closed the door.\n\nThis was her moment to show him her seductive side and charm those red pants off so she could convince him to bring her back home.  A whole plan was set in her mind, she had it ready.  When she opened her mouth though, one word fell out: \"Cock.\"\n\nShe felt like a fool Sanat was already laughing.  Mercedes was just sure he was going to just send her back out to the workshop floor.  Instead Santa unzipped his pants and sat down in his chair. \"Little girl, you forgot to say the magic word.\"\n\n\"Please?\"\n\n\"May you please... what?\" The old man's gaze seemed to pierce through her.  \n\n\"Your cock. May I please suck your cock?\" Mercedes was surprised she sounded so timid.  Santa laughed and leaned back in his chair.  She reached in and pulled out a larger cock than she thought she would find.  Mercedes was only too happy to finally have a cock in her mouth after all these months.  She attacked it like a relapsed addict.  It truly impressed her how long he lasted.  Her poor out of practice jaw had gotten sore.  \n\nShe tried to get him to finish on her face but the old man smiled and clicked his tongue. \"Waste not, want not.\" He said as he shoved his dick back in her mouth and started cumming down her throat. \"Make sure to finish it all or you won't get seconds.\"\n\nMercedes couldn't believe she swallowed it.  She never did that usually, but it felt so good.  After she was done and Santa was decent he brought her out to the workshop floor and told the shop foreman she had done her work for the day.  Then they let her go back to her room.  \n\nThe next day he called her in the office right away and it started all over again.  Mercedes tried to take her sweater off but Santa stopped her and told her he would tell her when to strip.  Until then he was sure she could follow orders all he wanted was her mouth.  So for the next week he came down her throat daily in his office.\n\nOne day after he came, Santa told her to come by his house before supper.  She was going to have supper with him and Mrs. Clause.  Her head was spinning.  She was going to have supper sitting across from the wife of the man she had been blowing daily for a week.  The girl couldn't help but get wet at the thought.\n\nMore chapters to come." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Your are a soldier during the Christmas Truce. Write about your experience." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was cautious at first. He's over there and I'm here, and it's Christmas Eve. And I hear them singing, all the boys in the blackwatch hear them singing. It's the German version of silent night. And some of the boys in our line are singing back. And for the first time in four months, I'm not trading bullets with the bastards, I'm trading words across the dead space inbetween the two trenches.\n\nIt catches like fire to tinder, and it spreads along our trench and there's. And 3rd battalion is singing, and the Germans in their Trenches across are singing. It is a cacophony of melody instead of screams. I participate even, singing along with the boys, breath fogging up in the air. I fell asleep, I'm ashamed to admit. It was so peaceful. Had they attacked we would have been over run.\n\nThe next day, A white flag is brought up, and I go out to meet the man, as the platoon Sergeant, white flag in hand, only thing on me a knife. The German lad is my opposite, with a well groomed mustache and a hard looking face. And he tells me in perfect english that that they want a truce here, for a little while, since it's Christmas and all. So he calls back for his platoon leader, and I call back for mine, and they meet, and agree to the truce after a nice pleasent conversation. And the lads come out, and the Huns come out after an hour or so of the truce.\n\nThey meet in the no mans land, weary at first. Single heads brave or foolish enough to pop up from the trenchline and break cover. bringing christmas mail, and ration packs and cigarettes and instruments and games equipment. I stayed with Keller, my opposite, and we traded cigs and played chess. There were football matches in the snowy mud. The boys were having a good time. I was having a good time. It spread less than an hour after we emerged, to the whole sector. I learned that from a messenger to company Command asked where to find the Major.\n\nWe swapped letters and stories, shared rations in an impromptu christmas feast, gambled, played football, and won too damnit, and sung when the evening grew long. There schnapps was right fine, and they seemed to like the rum and whisky my boys packed along as part of their kit. We visited each others trenches and exchanged gifts and trinkets. Keller gave me a Scarf his wife had made, and I had given him my Tartan shoulder sash in exchange.\n\nThe next day, The major comes down into the trench early in the morning, while the boys are out in no man's land, and starts chewing out the lieutenant for allowing the peace to continue.\n\n\"We're fighting a war against these hun bastards!\" he yelled at the platoon leader, face red, mustache and beard a salt and pepper grey. I noticed his uniform and overcoat weren't splashed with mud, or torn, or resewn, or frumpy. He was neatly pressed. When the Lieutenant refuse to give the order, the Major walks over to the firing step, grabs a rifle, and fires on the football game with the Lee-Enfield. He hits one of our boys instead of one of the Germans, and the boy crumples over, moaning. Everyone else dives into the ground, staying real low.\n\n\"GET BACK TO YOUR TRENCHES! WE'RE HERE TO FIGHT THESE BASTARDS!\" The major yelled out. He fired the Rifle into the air instead of into the bodies on the ground. The boys carried our wounded man back right quick. The major had shot McWrift through the upper outside thigh. But that was enough to grab everyone's attention back to the trenches.\n\nThe war recommenced for us, on the 27th, when the major called in artillery on the enemy positions directly in front of us. German's counter fired onto us. The Major has relayed by runner that we are to advance as soon as the barrage has ended. I don't know a single lad that won't advance for his country, but I can't tell if any of the lads are willing to not shoot their new found friends. God willing, we will report that we advanced, without doing so.\n\n- Sergeant Travis E. Douland" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: A time traveler goes back to 2016 to stop a cruel dictator before he even begins his ambitious rise to power. The man the time traveler meets is nothing like the history books portrayed." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was going to be a glorious assassination. About three hundred thousand witnesses, all in harmony, simultaneously watching the podium in the plaza, were in for a treat. With this single, evil act, a whole world of good was assured. From coast to coast the people would cheer the change, relish in the disruption, feel vindicated in their efforts. A new leader would take his place, and with him a wave of progress would take place practically overnight. Fail, and the world would feel the wrath of his tyrranical rule.\n\nJo was an army sniper. Trained in a large variety of light armaments, Jo was most comfortable (as all are) at a maximum possible range from any given target. The only real drawback to sniping, according to Jo, is the flight time. You had to have a still target. And that meant waiting for a podium appearance, or a nap, or even a quality anthem salute would suffice. Carrying a carbide rifle capable of penetrating the speed of sound for a full 3.2 seconds, the bullet would arrive from this distance a full 0.7 seconds before anyone heard a distant pop. Long enough to fire, pull the rifle off the stem wall, and begin shuffling to the far edge of the roof.\n\nZimmy was a time traveler. Zimmy was curious about this particular era in human history- the great rise and fall of a man, made rich and powerful by his father, his peers, his countrymen. Leaders weren't alone in these traits at the time- the electronic era was full of post-industrial billionaire families, world leaders, still in power kingdoms. In the Middle East, barbarians still beheaded in the street, and yet modern medicine could grow new organs. And even wilder, your periodic assassination stirred the entire pot of the world. Zimmy had seen the last great assassination re-enacted on film, and Zimmy decided to go back.\n\nFortunately, modern technology allowed one to rewind time, but only as witness. Travelers were incapable of actually changing the past- something about the nature of the present being unbreakable. All the old theories on time travel showing how it would disrupt time were quietly laughed at as science fiction, as time and time again it was shown that time travel was little more than watching television. However, the difficulty of it made it rather appalling to most. The energy expenditure, the positioning in time and space- all that work just for some entertainment. What was, just was. Might as well not.\n\nZimmy was a historian, though. And this particular day was fascinating. It was worth his efforts- No great leader had been killed since Martin King. No one was assassinated for political reasons for a full three hundred years after, either. Why today? What made these people so fanatical? He knew of the secret coup, the planning, the replacement. The true nature of Zimmy's work: why replace him with that monster? Every story published, every journal, all listed the place as going from a paradise to a center of backwards religions and obvious suffering. It was as if this one bullet changed the people from perfect to peasant, in a single, small pop.\n\nSo why did the world rejoice? What was their to gain from this change? What exactly were the history books missing? And it was for this reason that Zimmy decided to visit this particular assassination. Call it morbid curiosity. It seemed to be the most backward place on Earth, with every intent to go even farther backward.\n\nZimmy sat on the ground, cross-legged in the front row, invisible to his ancestors. The parade was over, and the large military procession was standing in dress uniform, all holding various instruments of music and death. It was a bitter, cold day, late in winter. The crowd was enormous. Thousands of faces, some disgruntled, some elated. A plethora of senior government employees sat on all sides. There was an introductory speech. Zimmy took it all in. Every riveting word.\n\nJo took close aim, adjusting his tripod, his barrel. He already had calculated everything for his military commander. Jo understood the implication of missing this one shot. The path of the bullet was windless- construction loomed on four sides. It was like being in a vacuum. He couldn't miss. Just adjust for the air current, keep calm. Simply push a button. Change the course of history. Help the world. Kill Kim Jong Un." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You and your identical twin were always very close. You two would always do everything together. One day, however, your twin disappears. Upon asking your parents, they explain that you've been an only child all your life." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A numb feeling runs through me as my parents smile blandly and tell me I never had a brother.\n\n\"Wait, but..\" I start, confused, staring at my parents who were clearly not my parents. My parents would never smile stupidly at me like that. But they looked like my parents, sounded like them — as Dad proved, saying, \"Imaginary friends.\" In an undertone to my mother.\n\n\"He's too old for that now, surely..\" She whispered back to him. \"Des, I'm worried.\"\n\nShe rarely called him Des when worried or upset. Usually his full first name — Desmond. Something else proving something's wrong. Upset and confused, I turn and run up to my room, throwing myself onto the bed that used to be a bunk bed and now is single. I close my eyes, remembering Grant, wondering what happened to him.. Wishing I could find out what happened.\n\nI spend about five years wondering. For my entire life I feel empty. I never name drop my brother, I never even acknowledge he existed, knowing if I did too much I'd be put into a madhouse. I begin to forget what his name was. Part of my brain wonders how he sounded, how he looked, even though I know just by listening to myself, looking into a mirror, seeing the depressed zombie of dull, dark-rimmed eyes and long, unkempt, greasy hair. A small beard has grown over the years.\n\nFive years after that day when I lost the one person who meant everything to me, at eighteen — I lost my brother at fucking thirteen, man, after spending my entire (though admittedly short) life with him — I'm brushing my teeth in the morning, listening to the loud whirr of the electric toothbrush. The house starts shaking. The toothpaste, which I had stood upright, topples over. I turn the toothbrush off, spitting into the sink — I miss a bit and some disgusting droplets of saliva and toothpaste hit the hand wash bottle.\n\nOutside, I start to hear screams. I spit a few more times, rinse out my mouth, drinking straight from the tap, then bolt out, not even bothering to put my shoes on, my dirty clothes that I hadn't washed for about two days hanging off me limply.\n\nHaving opened the door, I see a roughly six-foot-tall rip in the middle of the street. Cars have swerved to avoid it, people have run into their houses. I move towards my gate, moving past it, walking towards the rift. I stand on pieces of broken glass from where people have smashed bottles. Just two feet away from it, I study it further.\n\nIt's bending the air around it. The edges are all the colours in existence. It makes a soft throbbing noise as it pulsates. Then a humanoid shape leaps through, landing in front of me. The man straightens up, a mirror image of how I wanted to be when I grew up. A sleek suit, shining eyes, immaculate hair. Clean shaven.\n\n\"..Grant?\" I ask, not daring to believe.\n\n\"Actually.. Not quite. My name's Jake. And if I'm correct, yours is, too.\"\n\nI stare at my clone, incredulous.\n\n\"We swapped places one day. About five years ago. I've grown up having a brother after being an only child up 'til thirteen, and I believe you're the exact opposite. Correct?\"\n\nHe doesn't give me long to respond. \"I need you to trust me. Grant can explain to you what happened when you go through, but I don't have enough time. It'll close soon. Do you trust me, Jake Jones?\"\n\nI spend a second or five making up my mind, taking in what he's said. Then I step towards him.\n\n\"Yes.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: \"Hi honey,\" your spouse cheerfully says to you as the intruder they have by the neck turns to stone. \"Long story short. I was a Demon Lord in another realm, got bored, came to your realm and fell in love with you at first sight. Didn't think the blasted heroes would still come after me though.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I had been polishing a few of my statues, taking great pride in my collection, my darling wife had been creating them and well, they shared a beauty that was similar to her, an odd fiery allure that almost made you shiver. Still, I wish she would give them less creepy faces, they always looked like they were in pain.\n\nThat's when she burst in, holding a man, well he was a man when I first saw him, between a single blink of the eye the man was turned to stone. I would have loved to make a hard as stone joke but now hardly seemed the appropriate time. \"Hi Honey, long story short. I was a Demon Lord in another realm, got bored, came to our realm and fell in love with you at first sight. Didn't think the blasted heroes would still come after me though.\"\n\nAs you can imagine, my face was painted with confusion, able to do little more than stare at her before finally, a few mumbled sounds slipped out of my throat developing into a \"Huh?\" I rested my hand on the statue I was cleaning, staring her over. Now that you mention it, she was about seven feet, her body having a weird amount of strength given her petite form and those horns that he felt underneath her long black hair didn't feel like Halloween decorations... \"Oh, ok that's nice dear,\" I said, turning back to the statue as I looked it over. \"That kind of explains all the statues you keep making, look I'll let it slide for now, but I think we should stop selling dead bodies that have been turned to stone, it’s a little unethical.\"\n\n\"They aren't dead, they are frozen in stone, they will thaw out in a year or two, give or take. WAIT, aren't you freaked out, I am the demon lord! The spooky queen of the underworld, I battled God's angels, I tried to claw my way into heaven and-\"\n\n\"And you clawed your way into my heart instead. Look, if I cared about you being a demon, I would have fled the shop when I saw you turn a man to stone. I love you and that's all there is to it.\" I said without batting an eye. \"Although that does explain your anger issues...\" I muttered to myself, only to feel a cold presence looming over me as the words left my lips.\n\n\"Anger what now?\" She asked, making sure to breath down my neck for added creepy effect.\n\n\"Nothing, nothing love. Just um put the body in storage, I'll work the prices out later, I guess it isn't unethical to sell live bodies, although we may have to move our business in six months, I don't want people complaining that their statue came to life.\n\n\"Oh, I love you hon\" She wrapped her arms around her lover before planting a kiss on his cheek. \"Don't worry, I'll make sure to show those heroes I am a changed woman, or I’ll kill them trying.\"\n\n\"Isn't the expression I'll die trying?\" I asked.\n\n\"Well yes, but I don't intend to die love.\"\n\n{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read}" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: In a Hail Mary attempt at receiving a passing grade after failing her tests, Karla dons her sexiest outfit and marches to the teachers' lounge where she loudly exclaims \"Professor, I will do anything to pass this class\"." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Erm? Professor?” You ask nervously, poking your head around the door to my office as you knock.\n\n“Yes Karla - what can I do for you?” I look up for a moment from grading papers as you slip into my office, closing the door behind you. Not for the first time, it occurs to me that you are by far my prettiest graduate student.\n\n“Well, Professor, it’s about my final grade…” You begin to tell me sheepishly. You launch into an explanation, in more detail than I want to know, of all of the reasons why you have not been as attentive in class as you would like to have been, and why your final paper was so disappointing. I lean back in my chair and let you talk, not listening, but instead admiring your shapely young body through the thin fabric of your summer dress. I enjoy the way your long dark hair frames your adorable face, brushing your bare shoulders and emphasizing the milky white of your full breasts.\n\nI’m just contemplating the charming way your brow wrinkles with anxiety as you tell me about your financial worries, and your multiple jobs, when I realize your speech is coming to an end. “It’s just that…” You conclude, shifting your weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other as you flick your hair nervously. “…my financial aid depends on me maintaining straight ‘A’s - if I fail your course I’ll loose my scholarship.”\n\n“So what do you want from me, Karla?” I ask you, amused by how uncomfortable the direct question appears to make you.\n\n“I - erm, I guess I wondered whether there was any way for you to, erm, change my grade? I mean, maybe I could resubmit, or something?” You stammer, clasping your hands and fidgeting.\n\nI let the question hang awkwardly for a moment as you shift your weight apprehensively from one foot to the other, your sweetly curved hips rocking from left to right, my gaze resting on your beautiful waistline, offering an invitingly sensual contour that emphasizes your soft femininity.\n\n“Well, Karla, the Faculty Board does allow professors to offer students alternative ways of demonstrating competence in rare cases. I’m not sure that re-submitting your paper is going to help though. Is there anything else that you are good at Karla?” I let my gaze rest on the view of your perfect breasts that your low cut dress gives, amused to see that you are not wearing a bra. I allow myself to wonder whether you are aware that the way the light fabric of your dress shapes your plump mounds accentuates your firm nipples.\n\n“P-professor? I - erm - I don’t know what you mean?” You say nervously, unconsciously adjusting the way the dress cups your breasts in a futile attempt to provide some modesty. I smile at the idea that you are beginning to wonder whether the strategy of wearing such a revealing outfit was a good one.\n\n“Don’t you, Karla? Well, that’s disappointing. I’d assumed that you’d chosen to dress this way to come and see me for a reason. Please close the door on your way out.” I make a show of turning back to my grading.\n\n“No - I - erm, maybe?” You stammer, but I interrupt you, putting my finger to my lips.\n\n“Shhh. I’m not interested in anything you have to say. You dressed that way this morning hoping that the sight of you looking sexy would be enough to win me over. It’s not - not even close. Let me save us both some time Karla. You’re going to sound shocked - shocked at the idea of performing sexual favors for grades Karla, but eventually you’re going to talk yourself into the idea of offering a reluctant hand-job or even a resentful blow-job. But that’s not enough Karla, I’m not interested in half measures. Do you know how many young women are in your situation? You’re not bright enough for graduate school Karla, but you are very pretty, and you do have a great body, and that means you will do fine as long as you’re willing to play the game. You have a choice Karla. You can turn around and walk out with your dignity, and I’ll make sure you get flunked out of school, or you can take your dress off, and you can seduce me. I don’t make this offer to every young woman who comes to me, and to pass my class you’ll need to work. You’ll need to give me the best sex I’ve ever had.”\n\nI see the struggle play out briefly in your furrowed brow, the conflicting emotions of shame and need, but it doesn’t take long for the thoughts of your scholarships and grades to win out over your sense of self-respect. Slowly, nervously, you lift the sundress over your head, your perfect orbs swinging free as you kick off your shoes, standing now in just your white panties. You shiver slightly, I’m not sure whether with cold or humiliation.\n\nWhen your eyes meet mine for the first time, and I see a new resolve in them. You slide a thumb down each side of the elastic of your knickers, then slowly lower them down your thighs, letting them fall to the floor. I’m taken aback by the sight of your beguiling beauty and intoxicating innocence. It’s what I love most about my job, the chance to taste the purity and virtue of young women untainted by the compromises and disappointments that will come to them later in life. I grin as you step towards me, more confident already, bending to kiss me passionately as you sit, toned legs straddling my torso, and begin to loosen my tie." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: The knight looked down at the dragon's body with confusion. Instead of flesh and bone there was a mess of wire and metal and instead of blood the thing oozed a black oil from the cut" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My armor was dented, my body was bruised, burned down my sides from whence the dragon’s fire poured past my shield.\n\nMy flesh had seared against my armor and cooked from its heat. The icy sting of skin against boiled steel had begun to pulse my limbs with pain. My body was weak, my arms unbound, and I fell into a heap beside the gurgling mouth of the defeated dragon.\n\nThe beast coughed up its slick black blood as the light of life faded from its eyes, forever.\n\nOr so I had thought.\n\n“GREAT, YOU IDIOT! YOU BROKE IT!”\n\nA shrill, sharp voice bounced down the eaves of the dungeon, forcing me back on my guard with my wet blade unsheathed. I did not digest the words or their meaning, as I was prepared again to battle for my life against a new foe.\n\nI was coated in the creatures’ slippery gore as I slid away from it, my sword stuck between me and the beast. Its body began to twitch in a way that even I found abnormal and terrifying. It moved like no living thing would do, with sharp spasms that could even hold Death at bay with its unworldly throes.\n\nSuddenly fire spewed from its throat from where I dug the gash to slay it, though it was not worldly flame like the burn of torches or the fires it spat forth from its gullet. It was as though millions of tiny stars were being freed from its neck, burning bright and vanishing as quickly all in an instant. As it turned and twisted it birthed more and more of the little lights from its wounds, and the chaos of the sight confused and dazzled me.\n\n“CUT! CUT!” The strange voice yelled. And suddenly I was surrounded by commotion.\n\nA bell rang out faster than church bells could cheer and men poured out from all corners of the cave. They carried with them strange tools that I could not begin to fathom of their purposes. I wanted to raise my blade but I was so perplexed and exhausted that I stood in awe of the clamor.\n\nThe shouts had come from a little man, skinny and malnourished with a large funnel in hand and foreign cap that read, ‘DIRECTOR.’\n\nHe emerged from the crowd and moved towards me flying on wings of frustration.\n\n“You just had to break it didn’t you? I mean this is the type of authenticity that we pay for, but couldn’t you just smack it a few times instead of rip it open?” The last words from the wizard were followed by a mocking motion of his fingers. The way the crowd surged around his whims I could tell, he was their master.\n\nI said nothing. I was drowning in agitation, sinking in confusion.\n\nI let my shield fall from my hand as I absorbed the aberration in more detail.\n\nSome men were cleaning the corpse of the beast, yanking thick colored sinew from its guts. Others were climbing up ladders, reigniting the caverns torches that had gone out in the fray. I found it odd that the cave was filled with lit torches but I didn’t second guess that until now.\n\nThe Lady Keli, the Daughter of King Gregory and princess of Dorthen was still tied to the post toward the back of the cave, but she now looked quite flustered. I had traveled far and wide to rescue this damsel and claim her as my bride, but now she was no longer enchanted by my valiance. She now spoke in a strange accent, reading through words in a loosely bound book held up by one of the strangers.\n\n“This was not in the script, Preston!,” She wailed, “I asked for a little professionalism and this what I get? This wasn’t in my contract, PRESTON!,” Her voice squealed like a braying banshee and sounded nothing like the soothing songbird that sung to me off a balcony from her father’s castle some days before.\n\nThe little sorcerer approached me again, his fingers massaging his temples as he paced around me. His frustration made me anxious and angry all at once.\n\n“What is the meaning of this?,” I finally proclaimed, finding no one thoroughly impressed with my tone.\n\n“I am Sir Tanly Gallant, Knight of the Brown Table, and I demand you answer me to this madness!”\n\n“Look babe, you did good, great even, but we are going to have to shoot again.” The man spoke to me as though I understood what he meant. Shoot? Was there a crossbow involved in this bizarre ritual I did not yet see?\n\nMore men descended from the ceilings on strange mounts, riding metal horses and fiddling with their pieces. Another man had crawled into the dragons’ belly and was pulling it apart from the inside. I was stunned by his brashness, or insanity.\n\nFinally the weasley 'Director' returned and placed a hand on my dented pauldrom.\n\n“Real solid work, Tan. We will just have to fix er up and reshoot the scene. You did great babe.” He let out a sharp whistle between two of his fingers that got most of the troops attention. He leaned in a little bit closer so that only I could hear him.\n\n\"Okay,\" he hissed, \"Your a noble knight who has traveled miles of open country, fought wolves, ogres, pigmen, but its taking a toll. Your fighting for love baby, lets show it.\"\n\nI did not understand why he told my tale like I had not lived through it. I knew why I fought. I knew why I was here. But now with this whirlwind of delusion I was lost, without motivation. I knew I had to explain myself and try to understand what was taking place.\n\n\"I am Sir Tanly, son of Sir Kemsise, and I am fighting to free the Lady Keli from this devilish beast, but you and your-\"\n\n“EXCELLENT! YOU KNOW YOUR MOTIVATION!\" The excitement from the madman's voice disarmed me.\n\n\"PACK ER’ UP, WE ARE RESHOOTING, GOING BACK IN FIVE, PEOPLE!”\n\nThe dungeon thronged again with bustling activity. The men were moving large contraptions, untying the princess which made me rather upset because they did it without such care as I had traveled miles to do, and began passing around strange cups of warm brown tar. One of the boys offered me such a brew but I swatted it away in annoyance.\n\nBefore I could fully comprehend it all, a voice shouted out, “Quiet on the set!,” from a place I could not see in a scratchy, inhumane voice which boomed down the cave.\n\nI looked back to the dragon which had risen up from its deathbed. Its throat had been stitched, its eyes burning with fury once again, and slowly stamped its feet, testing each drop.\n\nThis cult of dark magicians had resurrected the lizard and reinvigorated it with their twisted magic.\n\nI was still broken, beaten, exhausted from our first bout, but I still prepared for an inevitable battle. I raised my blade, pulled in my shield, and I stared into the face of the monstrous lizard. Fire spouted out from its tongue as it did before, but now dripped with viscous black liquid I spilled from it with our last glorious battle.\n\n“ACTION!” Someone called, and in a spectacular flash, the entire cave was filled with light, claiming all of the mysterious cultists within it.\n\nWhen my daze had cleared I heard the familiar roar of my reptilian foe, and pealed my eyes open to see it before me in its full glory again. “Save me, Sir Tanly!,” the princess called as the monster curled up its scaly neck and unfolded its wings.\n\nI was fed up with the charade.\n\nI dropped my sword and shield, turned back, and walked out of that dungeon.\n\nKing Gregory, nor the Kingdom of Dorthen paid well enough for such a lack of professionalism." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: You’re a killer. You just love doing it. But little do you know the person you’ve been giving glances and smiles at the bar to seduce them before killing them has the sane passion as you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Sane Passion was the most exclusive club in the city. You wouldn’t know it from the outside. Only after a leisurely stroll down two different dark alleys, stepping around puddles of you hope is water, and knocking on a steel door next to a dumpster would you have any idea that it was a place of business. This is all by design and completely cosmetic. The dumpsters are empty and welded shut. A scent of real garbage is piped in, as are the various noises of rats, cats, and distant murmurs. The various pieces of trash were made by top Hollywood prop designers and have been treated to resist all types of weather. The second a person walks into the alley they are monitored. Hidden cameras from every angle monitor every step the person makes. This includes height, weight, body temperature, retinal blood vessels, and facial recognition. If you are not known, or expected you will be greeted by a series of ‘programmed events’. Sounds of banging garbage cans and rustling junk will increase while brief flashes of a laser pointer in certain directions will have you saying clichés like: “Did you see that?”, or “I know I saw something”, or “Did that pile of used condoms just move?” If you get past that they send out the ‘crazy homeless person’. From around the corner a living embodiment of the “Aqualung” album cover shambles into your path. He’s real, but not homeless, far from it. He is a security specialist that makes in the high six figures. His scraggly hair, disgusting clothes, and a stench that can is reminiscent of a cabbage and vomit casserole, all creations of some of Hollywood’s best. Generally these security personnel are ex undercover investigators, with above average acting ability. The ‘homeless’ person will start walking towards the person or persons shouting random phrases at them. The phrases may seem gibberish, but they give feedback to the rest of the security team about the security specialist’s current situation and surroundings. If he were to yell, “Hey man, where’s Dave?” This tells the security team some stoned kids wandered into the alley. A shout of “Get out of my garage, motherfucker, you gonna scratch my new Lincoln!” signifies a real homeless person is attempting to move in to the alley. “Hey, let me show you where the aliens probed me.” Always means the same thing. Fucking tourists. However, a cry of “Don’t take my dog!” is an emergency signal. When this is said, a second security team will subdue the person or persons, cover their heads, and bring them into a secure room. In this room the trespasser(s) will be shown a video of them entering the alley. They will be shown the other data that was collected. In a very NCIS way they will be presented with their entire digital existence up to and including the last grocery bill, a top 10 list of their guilty pleasure songs, and the last three porn videos they watched. It will be explained to them that if their current captors can get this much information in a matter of seconds, imagine what we could find out in a few hours. They will be instructed to forget this alley exists, and in turn their trespassing will be forgiven. All of this adds up to one thing. There are just some alleys you shouldn’t walk down.\n\nThe nice thing about all this security is the information is also shared with the bartenders, wait staff, and kitchen. By the time you make it to the steel door not only does everyone know who you are, but also how you are feeling. Your current body temperature versus ambient temperature is extrapolated to fix your favorite drink (based on time of day and season) to the exact temperature that will provide the best experience. Your last six purchases of food and meals will be extrapolated for similarities in cuisine, taste, texture, and diet. Upon your seating you will be given a set of personalized specials that meet your exacting dietary conditions but are also tailor made for your palette. A membership with ‘Sane Passion’ means the client will want for nothing. This type of opulence obviously comes with a price. And this place isn’t the same ‘Supper Club’ your lonely single uncle used to go to. Lifetime membership for Sane Passion generally ranges around the GDP of an emerging economy. The yearly security costs alone would cripple most principalities.\n\nHow do I know all this? Welcome to my club. My name is Todd Sane. To say I cater to the elite would be an understatement. A better way to say it is, I run a bar where countries have been built and destroyed over evening drinks. Which is why I have such a large security bill. Wise investments and the occasional sale of useful information does help to keep the lights on.\n\nThe day to day operations are automated. The data collected by the security systems and transferred to kitchen and wait staff is also used to monitor and replenish stock. Yet at a moment’s notice, from anywhere in the world, I can punch up current status and know everything from who’s sitting where and with whom, what they are drinking, and even the temperature of the lobster bisque. This leaves me a lot of leisure time. People say, “With all that money, you could never get bored”. Unfortunately that is not the case. When you have the means to do anything; it all seems boring. So about six years ago a got training as a contract assassin. Two years of grueling training on everything from weapons and safety, to anatomy courses so in depth doctors could call me for a second opinion.\n\nAt first I did the murders for the adrenaline rush. The greedily psychotic feeling that what you have just taken away something that can never be replaced. It didn’t last. After a while it became repetitious. Tedious. One night after a job, sitting in a dive bar, halfway through the best part of a bottle of whiskey, I had the epiphany. It’s not about the job, it’s about the anonymity. The ability to take a life so cleanly, it looks like natural causes. To do the job so well, only two people would know the truth. Myself and the one who contracted me. Please don’t consider me a monster for the killings. They were all bad people. Bad to someone. I find it best to leave personal politics out of it.\n\nSitting in my corner seat at the bar, watching the patrons move about. I bring up the floor plan on my tablet, to see who is here this evening. There’s a contingent of pharmaceutical players and investors in the corner booth. Most likely watering down a ‘cure’ to make it more a ‘treatment’, this is much better for the bottom line. A few ‘cultural attachés’ are sharing a hot pot and a pitcher of beer in the center of the dining room.\n\nAll of these people have names, addresses, backgrounds. and all are provided to me via the internal network. With the exception of one young woman. A plain and forgetful, woman except for her eyes. A pair of the coldest, grayest, eyes I have ever seen caught my gaze. I’ve stared into the eyes of high ranking government and corporate officials as they begged for their life, and that never gave me a chill. These eyes seem to stroll by every one of my defenses and poke at my very being. I look at the tablet showing the floor plan. It claims the seat is empty. But it’s not. I can see it right there, someone is sitting there. I restart the tablet all the time thinking to myself, “the world’s most expensive and advanced AI security system and I have to turn it off and turn it on again.” The tablet rebooted and still the floor plan showed no one in that seat. I looked up and confirmed it was correct. I rubbed my eyes and looked again at the now empty seat." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You discover time travel and decide to test the existence of Jesus Christ, you dress for the times, and travel back to see if he was real. He is, and he sees you in a crowd, he looks as if you are from another world. He comes right up to you and says, \"You are not supposed to be here.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Part One\n\nYeshua bar-Yosef, otherwise famously known as Jesus Christ, gazed at me waiting for my response. His disciples gather around me, glaring at me menacingly.\n\nI was at a loss for words. It wasn't that he singled me out. Despite my best efforts, I probably still had mannerisms that a twenty-first century individual would have. I have already received a few curious stares from the temporal locals.\n\nWhat shocked me was that he spoke Modern English, a language that wouldn't exist for another 1500 years.\n\n\"Well, interloper?\" Jesus persisted. Still in English.\n\nI stammered in Aramaic. \"You speak my language?\"\n\nJesus smiled softly at that. His disciples noticed his countenance and visibly relaxed. One of them, a burly man, stepped forward. \"You a Roman? Gaul? Iberian? What language did our Lord speak to you?\"\n\nJesus placed a hand on his shoulder. \"Easy, Peter. This man just came for answers.\" He turned to me and again spoke in English. \"Are you satisfied? You see me in the flesh.\" He then narrowed his eyes. \"But perhaps not in the spirit? Hmm.\"\n\nI found my voice. I decided to speak to him in English as well. \"Look, Jesus, I came to merely see who you were. Got my answer. Followed your retinue since you all left Cana yesterday. That religious stuff? Not important.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" He turned to his disciples. \"Peter, go on ahead and meet me at the crossroads.\" He turned to me. \"Shall we rest and talk, my son?\"\n\n\"I'm not your son,\" I growled. His serene confidence was irritating me but I followed him to a tree by the road. He sat down and leaned against the trunk.\n\n\"Well?\" I said as I sat across from him.\n\n\"Interesting that the subject of your first trip was me.\"\n\n\"Trip?\"\n\nJesus smiled. \"Nothing is hidden from me, Joshua.\"\n\nHow...?\n\nHe chuckled. \"Amusing that we have the same name. Your administrator has a sense of humor when she chose you to take the trip.\" He leaned forward. \"She's a believer, you know. She has a vested interest in the success of your trip.\"\n\n\"She's a brilliant scientist, first and foremost.\" I stopped trying to figure out how he knew these things.\n\n\"Never said she wasn't.\"\n\n\"What did you want, Mister...uh...Christ?\"\n\nJesus smiled again. \"Two things really. First, travel with me for awhile. About a month, maybe two, before you head back to California. Observe and record as much as you can and when you go back give a comprehensive report.\"\n\n\"I already have my answer.\"\n\n\"Not all the answers.\"\n\nI grunted. \"All right. I wasn't planning on sticking around that long, but why not? Maybe we can send additional explorers to observe.\"\n\n\"Which brings up my second request. Once you return, you must never attempt to travel again.\"\n\n\"What? No! Nothing doing!\"\n\nJesus sighed. \"Well, you have a month to think about it.\"\n\nI got angry. \"There's nothing to think about. Time travel could give us important knowledge about historical details.\"\n\n\"Oh, Joshua. I agree. I didn't mean stop time travel entirely. I meant just you.\"\n\nI couldn't believe it. \"But why?\"\n\n\"Looks like we have visitors,\" Jesus demurred. I turned to see a small crowd of Galileans, about half a dozen striding up to us. They looked angry.\n\n\"Why are you still here, Yeshua?\" one demanded in Aramaic. \"We told you to go back to Nazareth.\"\n\n\"I was merely resting,\" said Jesus as he stood up. \"This young man wanted to chat.\" The crowd turned their attention to me.\n\n\"Who are you?\" asked the leader.\n\n\"Um, I am Joshua of, uh, Cali,\" I stammered in Aramaic.\n\n\"Cali? And what accent is that? You must be a foreigner. Probably a filthy Roman.\"\n\n\"Or a Samaritan,\" piped in another.\n\nThis was pissing me off. \"I'm American.\" Let's see what they made of that.\n\n\"Armorican? You mean Gaul?\" said one.\n\n\"An idolater like the Romans,\" declared another.\n\nThe leader turned back to Jesus. \"Associating with whores and tax collectors was bad enough, but at least they were Children of Abraham. But this non-believer?\" The leader shook his head. \"Leave, Yeshua. Before your dangerous acts brings down God's wrath.\"\n\nJesus nodded and shook the sand and dust from his sandals. \"Of course. God be with you.\" He turned and started walking. After a few seconds I hastily followed.\n\nThe crowd watched us for a while and then began walking in the other direction.\n\nA little further down the road and Jesus started laughing. \"'Joshua of Cali?' 'I'm American?' I think your time with us will be interesting.\"\n\n\"Why don't you want me to time travel anymore?\"\n\n\"You'll learn the answer to that.\"\n\nAfter a few moments I asked another question. \"You're a time traveler, too, aren't you?\"\n\nJesus grinned. \"You'll learn the answer to that, as well. Now follow me. I see Peter and John at the crossroad pacing impatiently.\"\n\nI followed Jesus." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: A deaf pirate captain settles down with a powerful siren and they work together to rob every ship but the one the captain owns blind." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A sea witch must have cursed me. There was no other explanation for it. First I caught a bad cold. Happens to the best pirates. But I slowly started to lose my hearing. And now, I was deaf as a rock. I wouldn't even hear a cannon fired next to me, just feel the explosion. I knew that my career was about to end. We were on our way home, loaded with gold and riches. My deputy has already taken over command pretty much, still asking for my input of course. He was a loyal man and surely wasn't going to revolt. Back at home, they would send me into retirement with all the honors I deserved in my rather short career.\n\nAs I thought about my future, I noticed the crew acting weird. They suddenly went to the ores and changed directions towards a sandbank. There I saw it. A siren. Beautiful creature. But also very dangerous. It took a strong will (and sometimes some wax) to not fall for their songs. \"SIREN AHEAD! COURSE HARD BACKBOARD! PUT WAX INTO YOUR EARS!\" Absolutely no response. As if I didn't exist. I pushed my deputy away from the wheel to redirect us away from danger.\n\n\"Must, reach the girl!\" I lipread from his mouth as he tried to regain control. He was completely out of his mind. So I had to knock him out. Hard times require this sometimes. But if I steered past the siren, the crew would probably jump overboard. I looked for a safe spot to land the ship. That would work. Guide the ship through the rocky traps that would destroy it. I'd kill the siren and hopefully, everybody would go back to normal.\n\nThe ship dug deep into the sand. Nothing more than sand and rocks. I grabbed my dagger and approached the siren, which sat on a rock just a glance away. A wooden cabin built out of driftwood a little further down the island was her home. The rest of the crew followed slowly, still in trance. I expected to face a sea monster, but she was just a beautiful girl with fish scales, webbed feet and hands. As she saw me with the dagger, she put up her hands in panic. \"Don't kill me\" she exclaimed. \"I am not doing this out of fun. Come into my house and we'll settle this.\"\n\nI made sure she didn't have any surprises prepared, but judging her expression, she was genuinely scared. Her cabin was minimalistic, but something you could live in. She told me that her name was Miranda, she was doomed to never leave this island and given the power of voice. So she would sing to attract ships and get supplies to not starve. And to have some humans around her. \"Are you deaf and just reading my lips?\" she asked.\n\nI nodded. Miranda hugged me. \"You are the first person to ever withstand my voice. The first person I can have a conversation with that is not turning into a mindless zombie. You need to stay with me!\"\n\nAt first, I was hesitating, but actually, that was a great idea. I could not go back to sea anyway. And here I had somebody who could pull ships with gold on them. And after all, no way I could ever find a better girl. So I told her about my idea.\n\nMiranda gave me a kiss \"I always thought about building a small footbridge so the ships don't crash into the rocks. But I lack the manpower to do it. Then you could just go in and steal everything you want. I can even make them carry out their own gold, they won't remember anything.\"\n\nSo that's what we did. She commanded my crew to build the footbridge. They obeyed and got to work. Mirandas' power was indeed immense. My punch had freed my deputy from the trance, but even as I told him about her power it only took her a single line and he was bouncing around like a rabbit. And when the entire crew awoke the next morning, they had no clue how they came to the island.\n\nI had Miranda to be silent as they departed. Otherwise, they would be back in trance for hours. My deputy was now captain and they would return in 8 weeks for our marriage. They would bring supplies regularly in exchange for some of the gold I'd steal. And they could pass without getting robbed by me.\n\nSo, this is my life now. Every time a ship passes, Miranda sings her song. The ship lands with an entire crew to her will. And she forces them to party with us. Then we take a part of their gold and supplies and Miranda would sing as they departed. Hours later, they would wake up and believe the sea witch robbed them while they were getting drunk. It was a simple life, but it was beautiful. I had the best wife on the planet. And Miranda finally had company and a loving husband." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: A “detective unravels cult hiding in port town” story, from the perspective of the lovecraftian horror the cult is trying to summon." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Within the wind, and the rain, and the air, lay a creature that had no name. It had forgotten the words and voice and thought long ago, and could now only remember things through its Progeny.\n\nIts Progeny too were long dead, but the small offshoots had found a way to link themselves to it through the Old Ways. Through this, it knew its name as Mailigo, a creature of a time long dead, master of flesh and Concept.\n\nMuch like the travelers along strands of creation, the magic of the old ways had altered the offshoots to carry Mailigo’s ancient mind in the same way an ornate chalice could carry rocks. They were damaged in the process in a myriad of way, physical and mental, but Mailigo had no say in the matter. The rocks were simply carried along.\n\nMailigo counted the cultists each moment of lucidity. It needed to know who it would have to heal once it was alive again. There was the founder; the man known as Hail who wore strange robes and spoke Mailigo’s ancient language as if he knew what the words meant. It was he who’d discovered the vestige of itself, digging through soft silt in search of pearls and precious succulents. He’d become attached to the vestige in the way a hermit crab would a shell, though he did not understand which he was in the exchange.\n\nMailigo promised itself to grant the man a new body after the final “ritual” as Hail called it.\n\nThere were the man’s attendants as well, two women, six men and four children. As well as forty odd or so believers that had been guiled into worship. This was also Mailigo’s fault, and its fragmented mind still understood the responsibility behind it. When Hail had spoken in the Old Tongue, he had not understood that the act of “speaking” to Mailigo’s kind was that of a mattock. It was meant to shape, to tunnel and crack. When he’d spoken in the town square that first night, he’d broken the air and rain and sky and infested it with Mailigo.\n\nThe people that had heard had glimpsed the old mind and world that was now denied to them. The endless swirling gardens and golden funnels. The living cities of meat and mind that loved them as much as they did it. Almost all of them immediately succumbed to the addictive idea of returning to it, barring the skeptics lynched by the believers in paganistic rites. Another of Mailigo’s victims that he could not fix.\n\nThe children were the most lamentable of this accident. Mailigo promised that they would be given a future instead of the crippled bodies that would follow after the mutations began. It was already reflected in the adults, the abcesses and weeping skin now common among the initiates. There was so much to do once he was properly alive again.\n\nIt would begin with explaining to the inquisitive man who’d arrived in town just a week before the ritual. He’d come in a navy blue coat, refusing to drink or eat the tainted food and water of the town. He’d asked questions of the events surrounding the “plague” that affected the area, and had come close to revealing Mailigo itself. He knew that it was here, he just didn’t know how deep it went. Even still, it boded ill for all involved that they were working on limited understanding. So Mailigo “nudged” his believers to take issue with this man. By entangling him with them, it hoped a mutual understanding could be met.\n\nThis was met with little success. The believers, rather than being diplomatic, attempted instead to force the man to leave, or outright kill him. In the process, two of the believers had died, the man thwarting their attempts with struggling force. He’d intruded and discovered more and more, each time shying away from the truth before it could reach him. The closer he’d come to the cult, the more Mailigo recognized the man’s desires. To destroy the cult and kill it.\n\nNormally, it would have welcomed this prospect. The battles of old were long since over, it had been lost. But as low as it had been driven, it still remembered the Progeny. It saw this within the offshoots, saw their struggles. It watched as the force of Mailigo’s voice drove them mad, vomiting blood, skin sliding away to make room for things they could not support. It needed to fix these things. Only then would it accept its death.\n\nSo it instructed the followers as best it could. Assembling the monument and arranging the tributes, the already dead bodies providing the raw material to create a Progeny in full, one that Mailigo could control with exacting precision. But this would need an assurance of safety. So it was that on the final night, all the followers went and took the newcomer by force, dragging him bound to the fen-cave where the ritual would begin.\n\nThe fifty of Mailigo were arranged around the cave. Before them was the monument, the mold which would serve to stabilize the Progeny. It was a great wheel of spikes, the center a crude outline of a man. Torches dimmed, and people went silent as their priest ascended. With the corpses around, the man Hail began speaking, first in his tongue, and then in Mailigo’s.\n\nAs the voice carried through the cave, the echos amplifying the power, some believers went mad. It proved too much for their shattered beings, and they fell limp, their bones dissolving. The sound vibrated through the world, the sheer force cracking stone. They sang in gibbering fervor, eyes bleeding, until finally it reached the final verses. The melting flesh ascended the monument, and Mailigo could feel it working. For the first time in countless aeons, it spoke. “Yes…YES…” With luminous eyes, it looked out into the world of mortals once again.\n\nAnd it saw as the inquisitive man, unbound and eyes wild with fear lunged at Hail.\n\n“NO.” Was the final word that left the avatar as Hail was pushed into the spikes of the device. The sinew and veins tangled up in the spokes, the screams following breaking the spell. Mailigo was thrust back into the void, for just one moment, and was horrified to observe what happened next.\n\nThe cultists well and truly transformed then, their skin sloughing off completely, a hybrid of Progeny and man that should never be. Their wits were dimmed, their teeth jagged as they tore at each other, a cannibal feast that only ended when they scattered into the swamp, diving deep into faraway waters. The would-be avatar was now an abomination that would not live for longer than a moment, the man Hail destroyed as he was mixed into its body.\n\nMailigo felt terrible shame as the rest died. The cave was now silent aside the drip of blood. And it realized that though it could not control the mutants anymore, that he was still aware. The believers, as destroyed as they were, were still alive, still aware of it. It was trapped.\n\nHowever, there was one yet mutated. The detective. He knew the word now that he’d infested the man, and attempted to reach out. Yet each time he did, the man screamed and broke into madness, the fear overpowering him. He ran out of the cave and into the empty town, cradling himself on the street corner he’d arrived on.\n\nAnd so, one final time, Mailigo attempted to communicate in earnest. He waited for the man to pass out asleep, and sent a vision of all that had happened, where the believers were now hiding, what was to be done. The responsibility, the burden for the weaker. He tried to show that there was still a chance.\n\nThe man awoke the next morning, and wrote down all that he remembered of the dream. It would be knowledge vital to those that came after. And then, to Mailigo’s dismay, the man threw himself off a building, dying.\n\nYet still, as days became weeks, and the curious encountered the empty town, the knowledge would be passed along, and those that understood would come to know of Mailigo. And Mailigo would know them, and wait for the day he could return and heal those he’d harmed.\n\nThanks for reading!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1400-1500 words. Prompt: The Mayan Calendar was actually a countdown. On December 21, 2012, magic started existing, but no one had discovered it until now." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A swift glance behind me while I round around a corner let me know I’m not alone. One, two, three…At least three individuals have been following me for the last four blocks. I wonder briefly who they are, but the tattoos I saw on their necks told me all I needed to know. I’ve never seen these men before in my life and as I don’t really feel like sitting down with my stalkers for a coffee and talk about the weather, I start to pick up the pace. I am however forced to slow down almost immediately, as, not ten meters away, I see a police officer, with their blue uniform and a red symbol attached to their chest, right above the heart.\n\n‘An enforcer…’ my mind supplied helpfully. I keep going at a normal pace, if a bit faster than I’d like, head down, back lining in a bit.\n\n‘Try and look as small as you can and never, ever look them in the eyes’ my mother’s words echo inside my head. Regular police officers these days are usually bad news, what with their guns and their Thunder Clubs, and their willingness to use them after any sign of provocation. Police officers that are authorized to use magic on the spot, to apprehend any ‘suspicious individuals’ or ‘potential terrorist’? Those spell out the words “bad day” for you the moment you lock eyes with them. Any sign of using magic outside of your home or the designated areas will resort in a face full of blood and a few broken ribs. Any sign that you may have the intention of doing so later on will end with a rather rough arrest. Coming across one of them these days is almost like a bad omen, on par with seeing a black cat, or the day being Friday the thirteenth, and as much as people would like to avoid them like the plague most of us can’t. Because, if they were to see such “suspicious behavior” from you, then you’re on their watch list of “Potential Public and State Threats”, or as it’s most commonly known these days “List of people we’ll certainly kick the shit out of later”. And as the name suggests, it is rather unavoidable. No matter what happens, or who you are, if you get yourself on their shit list, then they’ll find a reason to “apprehend” you, most of the time, with the accusation of illegal use of magic.\n\nIt’s been eight years since the Great Cataclysm. Almost a decade since magic, or meta-forces as it’s officially called, became a part of our world, and even still the government is trying to make it seem as if everything is as it used to be. As if nothing changed. I don’t understand it. I was twelve, or maybe thirteen, when everything changed, but I still learned to accept the new order of things. There are kids these days, children as old as five or even six years old, who have grown up with magic being a constant in their life, from their parents using it at home to their friends playing around with it after school. And yet, the government refuses to include any subjects regarding magic, not even basic control, to their school curriculum, their basic means of education. Instead they just sit there, privatizing magic for the police force and the army and watch, as kids and teenagers who don’t know any better go around and use their magic all willy-nilly. And what does that do? Gets them in trouble with the enforcers at best. Gets them killed at worst.\n\nSome even say they do that on purpose, the government I mean. To deter people from using their magic whatsoever. I don’t like thinking about it. If that is truly the case then we really do deserve to lose the war. But the way things are going, it doesn’t seem like it’ll last match longer. The US still stands strong, with Canada now officially being a part of us, but we are still having trouble with the outside world. The States of Europe, the final stage of what used to be the European Union, includes all of Europe, a small part of Egypt, and a good chunk of the Middle East. China is trying to fight back, but the key word here is “trying”. They won’t make it past the coming winter. Their expansion cost them a lot of resources. The SE has cut them off from most of their supplies, leaving only just enough for them not to become completely desperate, probable knowing better than to corner a wild animal. They’re letting them tire themselves out. There’s talk about peace negotiations between them, but nothing is official yet. Japan is just sitting there, waiting for the storm to pass. They only made a move a bit earlier on and finally manage to take over Korea. They would have gone for China as well, everyone knows that, but the moment the States of Europe showed interest in that territory, they agreed on a cease fire between them, and they backed off. Can’t say I blame them. Nobody messes with the SE. Not after what happened to Turkey.\n\nI feel a shiver run down my spine at the thought of what events transpired that day. There weren’t any live videos or news broadcasts, not that I found. There were however pictures. I couldn’t sleep for a week after that. ‘What if they come here?’ I had thought. What if they came to my home, to my parent’s home, to friend’s home, what then? The only answer I could come up with were scenes from the places I knew, the people I loved, demolished. Completely leveled. Destroyed and disfigured beyond recognition. I feel a chill down my spine at the thought of that.\n\n‘Great, I thought. There goes my sleep today’\n\nThe only positive thing these days is religion. Don’t get me wrong, the churches are still stumbling over since the Great Cataclysm, every belief is. Some of them say it’s the end of the world, some others that it’s a test from god. I sometimes like to sit down and read what they have to say about it. Call me mean or cruel if you will, but I can’t help but find it funny, how they try to explain everything that happens around them, all while pointedly ignoring certain facts just because they don’t feet in to their explanation. How people can choose to stay willfully ignorant to change, just to give themselves some false sense of control, is beyond me. However, it’s one of the few things these days that makes me laugh a bit, so I just accept it and move on. I used to believe too you know? But I stopped a while back. This is the new world people, it’s uncharted territory beyond our wildest dreams. The old ways don’t have much of a place here. Everyone knows that. That’s why there are so many new religions popping up, even to this day, though the law enforcements prefer we call them “illegal cults”. The most famous one, here in the US, is the cult of “Neon Arcaina”. In their belief, magic is a byproduct of, or is itself, an entity, and we’re worshiping it by using, learning, and understanding it, and from it. Its popularity derives from the fact that it lets you use your magic without any restrictions, as long as you aim to understand from the experience and share that knowledge with your fellow men and women. It’s a peaceful cult, for the most part. I can’t help but wonder how long it’ll last. The war will be over soon, at least that’s what we all think, but what happens next? Political negotiations, exchanging prisoners of war, establishing new trade roots and dealing with all the government business. There will be public unrest. There will be in fighting. The churches will intervene, determine to get back a presenters of their followers, and the stronger of the new cults will not be far behind. I wonder if there will be fighting between them. Maybe a crusade will happen? I don’t know. Nobody really does. These are new times, uncertain times. The world is in chaos. The only thing any of us can do is try to find a semblance of control and launch onto it and never let go. Some join cults. Other’s try to fight the system.\n\nWhat do I do…? Heh…\n\nI watch the sun set on the horizon, with a drink in my hand and the sound of the waves in my ears." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You are tugged in, home alone after a hard, long rainy day. You are about to fall asleep. You sneeze and you hear someone whisper \"god bless\"." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It had been a a year since she passed. Nothing brought joy to his eyes after that. He drowned out the sorrow of his own as the mechanic of the lives of others. Where they fell, he would catch. Where they hurt, he would heal. Where there was a hole, he would fill. He was only living how she wanted to herself.\n\nIt had been a long day. The days' act was over. His supply of fake smiles and friendly remarks had ran out for the day. The mask the world knew him for came off as he entered his home. Shell was left at the door as he walked in, while the empty shell of who he used to be roamed the house.\n\nHe sat down on the couch and looked back on the past year. One year ago today, she left the world of the living. He didn't know if there was a life after this one and if she would be there, he just wanted her to be in this one with him still. He could still picture her sitting next to him, holding his hand as she watched one of her flicks. He didn't care, he was just happy to spend time with her. He can remember the smells of the food she made. It may have been burned most of the time, but not as much as his love for her was. He sitting at the table with the bills, knowing that things would be tight that month, and hearing her offer to pick up more hours to make ends meet. But he what he remembered most was the fight they had hours before she passed.\n\nHe can't even remember what the fight was over. He did know that he was harsh, but she never spoke an ill word back. He remembered her saying that she still and always would love him as he slammed the door behind him. He remembered the flowers he bought when he realized how crushing he had been. He remembers how he felt when he returned home to see her leaving; in a body bag.\n\nThe funeral was just like today; wet and somber. Everyone left one by one. He stood there, wondering how to go on. He stayed there for hours drenched from the rain, and from the tears. He stayed until he no tears could be shed. He placed the flowers he bought a few days ago in a pot next to her tombstone. They where as dead on the outside as he was on the inside.\n\nHe dragged himself into bed. It was two in the morning, but he didn't care. He started to fill ill as the day came to a close and took the next day off. As he hopped under the covers, he saw the empty side of the bed. He lied there for god-know how long. Despite today being cold, wet and lonely, he felt warm under the blankets. He sneezed, perhaps a side effect of the oncoming cold.\n\n\"God bless you\".\n\nHe looked around the room frantically. What was he coming down with? Silence entered the room, as well as warmth.\n\n\"I'm right here honey\" .\n\nThe spot left empty the past year was occupied now by someone, somebody that he knew he never let in. It was her. She was dressed in the most beautiful silk he had seen. Her eyes where still the dazzling green she had. Her hair was white and glowed along with the rest of her.\n\n\"Don't be alarmed, I'm here to visit you. All the joy you brought to others led them to reward you. Not only have you brought joy to those here, but brought joy to me even after you couldn't see me.\"\n\nHe couldn't think. He couldn't speak. He only felt warm.\n\n\"I forgive you my dear, even if you can't forgive yourself.\" She put her hand on his face, catching the tear on it's way down. \"I didn't think you had anymore tears of sorrow left?\"\n\n\"And I thought I would never shed a tear of joy again\" he said.\n\nShe embraced him. The emptiness inside dissipated faster then darkness when light enters. Where he fell, she caught him. Where he hurt, she healed him. Where he had a hole, she filled.\n\n\"Alas my dear, all good things must come to an end. I must return to where I belong now. And you must return to your work.\" As she ascended upwards, she spoke her last line: \"I still love you, and always will.\"\n\nIt has been a year since she visited. He went to visit her where she rests. The flowers never looked more alive." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Humanity finally learns that we're not alone in the universe, unfortunately its only the unpopular species that want to talk to us." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Paul took a long pull from his crinkled can of PBR. Pausing to look up, he saw a greenish humanoid shape reflected in the mirror opposite the bar.\n\nIt had been about 18 months since the aliens made first contact with the people of Earth. Most of them were still getting used to the idea of not being the only suckers in the galaxy. It was a rough transition. Most people responded to the news with violence while others, like Paul, treated the aliens with indifference.\n\nPaul kept drinking his beverage while the green figure sidled up next to him.\n\n“One beer can.” The alien's voice croaked.\n\nThe bartender maintained his best “nothing ever has, nor ever will phase me” face and pulled out a fresh can of Pabst.\n\n“That'll be four bucks,” the bartender said.\n\nThe alien scrounged around his being but apparently they don't come with pockets.\n\n“I'll cover him, Matt. Just put it on my tab.” Paul said with a tip of his beer.\n\nThe two sat silently for awhile, drinking and watching the news. There was another story of an alien being accosted by a group of humans.\n\n“Don't you ever get tired of it?” Paul said staring at the TV.\n\n“Tired of what?” The raspy voice replied.\n\n“Tired of humans not trusting ya. Getting beat up, picked on, ignored, hated. I mean you got ships, don'tcha? Why not just take off?”\n\nThe alien looked down in his beer and sniffed. He seemed to be crying, though Paul felt it would be unwise to assume they had the same emotions as we did.\n\n“Look,” Paul started, “forget I said anything.”\n\nThe alien wailed and smashed his hand on the counter.\n\n“Hey!” Yelled Matt, “one more outburst like that and you're out!”\n\nThe alien quieted and then sat shivering for a moment. Before speaking.\n\n“Y'know it's not easy being a Glorm'LAKk. Our home world was overrun by a vicious race. The Raxx. Their plan was to wipe us all out. Genocide. Of the 18 billion on our planet only a few million survived.”\n\n“Jesus, man, I'm sorry to hear that.” Paul took a deep sip, “Why would anyone want to kill y'all?” he asked, genuinely curious.\n\n“It was a prank. The Raxx were throwing this planet-wide party and someone dared them to wipe us out. I guess they-”\n\nPaul turned to face the alien full on.\n\n“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on. You're telling me some jerk-off wanted to kill you and your kind as a prank?” Paul asked.\n\n“Yeah, pretty much.”\n\n“Now that's some fuckin' shit.”\n\nThe two sat in silence a moment, just sipping their respective beers.\n\n“A planet-wide party?”\n\n“Yes, all the different houses in the system are invited. Apparently Raxxulon Prime has some amazing pools. Though I've never seen them.”\n\n“Hey, what's yer name?” Paul asked putting a hand on the aliens, somewhat, slimy back.\n\n“Herb d'LorK” The alien said with a hint of a smile.\n\n“Holee fuck, y'all are some strange creatures.”\n\n“It's been said before.”\n\nAgain silence settled between the two. Paul wanted to find something to say to attempt to comfort poor Herb d'LorK but everything just felt awkward.\n\nPaul finished his beer and settled up his tab with Matt. He left enough for Herb to get a couple more drinks.\n\nAs he stood up to leave Paul leaned over to Herb one last time.\n\n“Hey, y'know I used to get beat up a lot in school.” He said.\n\n“Really? I find that hard to believe.” Herb replied.\n\n“Yeah well it happened. A lot. But the thing is I survived. Eventually I got out of school and found a group of friends who liked me for me. I stopped getting my ass kicked so much and got to spend more time doing things I enjoy.”\n\n“Yes. We too hope to find people who like us. We believe we've found it here on Earth. Could it be, you humans are the friends we've sought?”\n\n“Yeah I wouldn't bet on it, nerd. Enjoy the beer.” Paul said with a final pat on Herb's shoulder.\n\nAs Paul made his way to the entrance he turned to give Herb one final glance. It was the first alien he'd actually talked to. And it'll probably be the last. Paul thought.\n\nToo bad." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: “You could rule the world with your power, so why don’t you?” “Seems like too much work if you ask me.”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When I explained the idea behind the book I'm currently writing to my English teacher he literally asked me why the main character didn't take over the world. So I'm going to use that character.\n\nIt has to be in 1st person, bare with me it'll make sense. Dialogue focused because I gave up on writing actions.\n\n\"Think something\" I ask him \"Think something and I'll prove I'm not bs-ing you\"\n\n\"I didn't say I- I didn't say I didn't believe you\" he stammers out. Not fearfully. Josef subverts my expectations, he doesn't back away from me.\n\nI counter with \"But you thought it\" pressing him to just go along with me. I know it's a big ask. But as soon as the words leave my mouth I've completely regretted the start to this whole conversation.\n\nMy attempt was to have full transparency. Josef has been my best friend for years. We know everything about each other. Well of course I know everything about him. I'm omniscient. Not as fun a power as you might think, and of course I know what you're thinking. It gets to be a lot when you literally know the actions and thoughts of every person at every given moment in time. And on top of that have to pretend like you don't.\n\nThat's why Josef and I get along together so well. He's a bit slow on the uptake, but at the same time a real genuine person. Rare to find truly honest people who say what's on their minds, especially in high school. So I could let my guard down around Josef. Not always having to play dumb like I didn't know the exact location of his lost pencil - it's in your backpack Josef, so I know you didn't actually fully check there - or the punchline to a joke.\n\nMaybe I started to become a bit too lenient. And it might have finally reached the point where he realized something was amiss, so I had to come clean.\n\nThat's what brings us to the empty study room in the library. Soundproof.\n\n\"Elise. The word you're looking for is telepathy\"\n\n\"You're saying that's more believable\"\n\n\"Knowing peoples thoughts! Yeah way less of a stretch than knowing literally everything!\"\n\n\"I don't know literally everything\" I take extra care to annunciate everything for dramatic sarcastic effect \"Just what any given person is doing or thinking at this moment in time\"\n\n\"I'm going to say it. I don't believe you\"\n\n\"I knew that\"\n\n\"Seriously Elise. If you had that kind of power you could take over the world\"\n\n\"But I don't want to take over the world. I want to just finish school, become a journalist, and maybe find a hobby that isn't watching a movie from 20 years ago so I don't know the ending\"\n\n\"Wait so you can't like time travel\"\n\n\"No Josef. Time travel isn't real. I know what's happening in the present. If I could see into the past I wouldn't be stuck as a foster kid\"\n\n\"I thought you liked your new placement\"\n\n\"James is fine. He's just not a parent. More like a sad estranged uncle or big bother or something. Josef stay on topic\"\n\n\"Sorry it's just kind of hard to wrap my head around the fact that my best friend might have god like ability and simultaneously just want a normal life\"\n\n\"Because where the fun in world domination?\"\n\n\"I don't know Elise, everything! Screw journalism you could run the news\"\n\n\"Can't. 1st amendment\"\n\n\"You're boring\"\n\n\"And you're unrealistic. My ability doesn't give me anything but migraines\"\n\n\"Your power is beyond epic, and you're wasting it\"\n\n\"Icecream\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Earlier. When I told you to think something. You thought the word Icecream. No context no particular flavor\"\n\n\"I thought you couldn't look into the past\"\n\n\"I still have memory, you moron\"\n\n\"You know this is still hard to believe\"\n\n\"What my omniscience or the fact that I don't want to do anything with it?\"\n\n\"Both. I started to get sucked into the whole talking about it, but I think it's still kind of taking time to sink in that you're like a superhero or something\"\n\n\"But I'm not a superhero\"\n\n\"And that's the problem! You could totally be one\"\n\n\"We're just going in circles at this point\"\n\nNot really an ending but this was a fun warm up with my favorite book characters for a scene that definitely won't happen in the story. Probably doesn't make alot of sense since it's missing the whole context of the idea and world, and their backstories, but feel free to ask questions and I'll fill in the info. I love talking about this WIP. Thanks for the prompt!" } ]