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BintangFortuna

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Bintang Fortuna 2

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Take a scene from a Shakespeare play and rewrite it in the style of a noire film." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was pouring at Castle Inverness, which is to say it was a day like any other. The pitter-patter muffled the sounds outside and masked the footsteps of people coming and going from the building. I had flung the windows open to hear the crier’s news from my office as a new client sat across from me. Another body had fallen dead in the keep, and my new employer, it seemed, had killed him. I just needed to be sure. Mysterious deaths at Inverness had become about as common as rain. Guards killing Kings, Kings killing Guards, it should have come as no surprise that even murderers felt the blade dangling over them. I didn’t usually take jobs from killers, but the coin was more real than my morals.\n\n\"Where do you want me to take you?” I asked, pulling my cloak tighter against the cold. I pushed an arm through my furs to reach for a quill, flicking the ink to catch on my fingertips.\n\n\"Far,” he said, “as far from Inverness as you can take me.” He brought his hands together and breathed between them. “I don’t care where.” He watched me scratching notes onto the parchment. “What’re you doing with that?” He asked pointedly.\n\n\"That is for my protection,” I said, not taking my eyes from the writing, “If I’m going to end up on the pile of bodies behind the castle walls, then it will be after you pay me.” When I finished writing I looked at him, the cold was still settling on him. I thought hard about my next words. “I have contacts in Glamis who can –“\n\n\"Not Glamis,” he shot back. I took note. “M-“ he stuttered, “My employer. He knows too many people in Glamis. I could never hide there long.”\n\n\"So you’re running from your employer?” I asked. “Job gone bad?”\n\nA fire burned behind his eyes, but was quenched by the chill. The cold was doing its work. “It was a two man job,” he started, “Then a third shows up and it all goes to hell. I put out one light, he puts out the others, and we’re in the dark. When we light another torch we’re all bloody but there’s only one body instead of two.”\n\n\"Fleance?” I asked.\n\n\"The little bastard,” he started then checked himself. His eyes went wide and I saw a hand move shakily towards the pommel of a blade, “Did he hire you? He's killed others to hide his murders! I'll not be among them. Did the King send you?”\n\nI nudged the table toward him and pinned his hand, “Please. I know the life expectancy of a Freelance in Castle Inverness.” I nudged harder and his hand came back above the table. I scratched the fresh detail I needed into the contract and handed it to him to confirm. \"I promise,\" I said to him, \"You will not die by the King's hand.\" I brushed the table, heated sealing wax, and let some drop onto cold wax from earlier that day. When he was satisfied I folded the parchment, dropped the wax, and pressed my signet into it. I took his hand to press his signet too. It was ice cold.\n\n\"I’ll pay you half now, and half when I’m satisfied we’re far enough away,” he said taking his hand back and clapping his hands back together, “When do we start?” He asked.\n\n\"Start?” I asked taking the sealed contract from him, “I’ve already finished.”\n\nI smiled, looked past the killer, and nodded to a corner of the room. I wondered if the killer noticed the flecks of ink already on my hand, or the old drops of wax during our conversation, or even the shavings that had already peppered my table. I wondered if he’d heard the footsteps of the man I had met earlier that day sneaking back up the stairs, or felt that man’s blade pushing through his back. Perhaps, as I'd hoped, the cold had numbed him to it all.\n\nI handed the contract to the murderer’s murder, “Will that be enough Prince Malcom?”\n\n\"More than enough. I can rally the Thanes to me with this,” he replied and dropped a bag of coins on the table. “There’s more of that,” he continued, “Ride with me, Freelance.” He wiped the blood from his blade and replaced it in its scabbard. “There may be a thanedom in it for you.”\n\nI wiped the blood from my face. I knew the life expectancy of a Freelance in Invernress and the life expectancy of a noble. A man with his head in a crown often found his head on a pike not long after, especially now. I took the pouches of both killers, started counting my coins, and said, “I’m fine right where I am.”\n\nEdit: words n things" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1400-1500 words. Prompt: You have always been able to identify where a key fits, be it with a car in Japan or your own front door. One day, you brush your fingers against a close friend's key-chain and are overwhelmed with locations. One of these keys... it opens every lock." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Bob’s Uncle had died, an old and lonely man, locked away in his huge and ancient mansion, a mansion that Bob had unexpectedly inherited.\n\nI’ve known Bob my whole life. We’d been inseparable since the early days at school and had stayed steadfast friends ever since. He's more than a friend, hes my brother, more family to me than my own blood.\n\nAside from my wife, he's the only one who knows about my gift, if you could call it that. I have the uncanny ability to always know what lock a key will fit into, wherever it may be, like GPS pin points popping up in my mind with flashing images of the location, sometimes even smells and textures.\n\nWe had gotten into a lot of trouble in the past with it, but these days, I hardly ever used it. In fact, I had mastered the ability to block out the visions that it would plague me with every time I picked up the keys to the house or car, only fading once I had them out of my grasp. Even keys in my pockets would sometimes set off the visions. It was an extremely difficult handicap to normal living, and I had finally managed to control it.\n\nBob would still sometimes bring me keys to check, as would my own wife, but that was basically the extent of it’s use, and I was happy with that.\n\nSo here we were, standing in the dusty lobby of the mansion, cobwebs clinging to the corners of the high ceilings and around the looming staircase, the marble floor partially reflecting us through the muck that covered it. Above the staircase loomed a portrait of a serious looking fellow; Bob’s uncle no doubt.\n\n“I’ve found most of them” Bob began, breaking the silence, fiddling through sets of keys that he’d attached labels to, “but this one in particular, I have no idea. I mean, just look at the shape. It looks broken, so if you can tell me where it goes, I’ll get it fixed or the lock changed”\n\nHe was dangling a long and heavy looking silver key in front of my face.\n\nThe top of the key had the familiar O shape, but the end was just a long cylinder, with no teeth or outcroppings on it at all. It was thick and looked heavy and well made, with no rust like so many of the others on the table, or signs of use.\n\n“Go on then” Bob prompted, thrusting the key into my face, “do your thing”\n\nI sighed. Should have known this would be the real reason Bob wanted me here so urgently.\n\nI lazily stuck out my hand and took the key and waited. Nothing happened. I turned it over in my hand, raised it into the light to get a better look, slapped it around in my palms a few times, but nothing worked. Was it not a key, or had I become too adept at blocking the visions?\n\n“Not a key” I decided, and moved to pass it back, but just before I did I began to feel something, and my hand retreated back to me automatically.\n\n“You ok, Sam?” Bob asked, looking worried as a stumbled slightly.\n\n“Fine, I thi….” I tried to reply, but the words were choking off in my throat. There was a growing tension rolling through my body. In my ears I could hear a deep drone building in intensity, like a huge wave rolling towards a shore, threatening to crash.\n\nPressure began to build in my head, swelling my temples and making me aware of throbbing veins quickening to match the pace of my heart. Something wet dribbled down my mouth and chin, hot and sticky.\n\n“Man, are you ok? You’re bleeding!” Bob shouted, coming to my side and propping me up as I began to double over.\n\nHe helped me steady on to a chair as I tried desperately to collect myself. What was happening to me? The room was spinning around me, unrelentingly gaining pace, and the key was still gripped firmly in my hand.\n\nMy vision blurred as the spinning reached its peak and a pain exploded deep in my mind, erupting outwards like frozen knives slicing through my skull.\n\nThen the pain stopped, and suddenly I found myself standing in an open white space, no sound and nothing to be seen except pure and endless white.\n\nBefore I could speak or do anything, a wind hit my face as an unending wave of images flowed past me from all around and began to swarm into a huge ball, drawing together and writhing into a solid mass.\n\nIt formed into a giant sphere, high above me, slowly revealing patterns on its surface until it became clear what it was. The Earth. I lifted my hands to my head, what the hell was going on? As I did, the sphere twisted and changed shape, enhancing an area like a map being zoomed in, myself being drawn into the area as the mass came around me.\n\nI moved my hands back down, and again it moved, going deeper into what ever place it was showing. It was a dark room that revealed a massive metallic door with various contraptions on its surface; a vault.\n\nThe key floated up in front of me and I instinctively took it, raising it towards the door. The clink of metal on metal as it struck the door surprised me; it was real! I pushed the key forward and watched in horror as my hand began to dissolve and flow into the space as the key disappeared, not even enough time to scream before my entire body followed suit.\n\nAgain, I felt myself violently spinning and then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. I was in a dark, black space. I retrieved my phone and put on the light, shining it forward. The door I had just seen in the images greeted my eyes, although it was obviously the other side. I had gone through it. I was inside the vault. The keys chain had come around my neck, with he key dangling down my chest.\n\nI slowly turned around, shining my light into the room, fearing the worst about what I may see. The walls were the same as the door, black and sleek looking, as if the entire room was shielded in metal. In the centre of the room, on a desk, was a large black book. There was nothing else.\n\nRelaxing slightly, I walked up to the thick leather-bound volume, marvelling at its sheer size. It was bigger than a pizza box, and maybe 3 boxes deep. Nothing was written on the front or the side, but a large lock bolted it together tightly across it.\n\nWondering how heavy it may be, I pushed back my fear and hoisted it up. I grunted as I struggled under the sheer weight of it, almost dropping my phone. Suddenly, the deafening sound of a siren exploded into the room as a red light encased it completely in its glow.\n\nInstinctively I fumbled for the key on my chest, holding it tight and closing my eyes. Immediately I was back in the white space, the image of the vault in front of my face and glowing red. My phone and the book were next to me in the space, in a neat pile. Relief sweeping through me, I pushed the image of the now red vault back, half with my mind and half with a stop gesture from my hands, and began to try and control the sphere to get back to where I had been. It didn’t take long for me to understand how it worked, and soon I had found the door to Bob’s house, and could see him standing within. I pushed the key forward.\n\nWith the same swirling and spinning, I found myself back in Bob’s mansion, the book in my hands, phone in my pocket, and the key around my neck.\n\nBob’s hands were on his head, his mouth open in shock.\n\nAs if alive the book shook in my arms and fell to the floor with a slam. Bob jumped.\n\nAs Bob and I stared at each other my gaze was drawn to the portrait of his uncle, now noticing the chain that had been around his neck. The same chain of the key that was now around mine.\n\nr/FatDragon" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: \"You were born to be a peasant, to live in our shadow and suffer there... so what have you done to do wholly eclipse us?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kaa had nothing to lose after the Faelords killed his sister. His only family. He had no desire to continue living. And yet he could not die in wain. Not after what those powerful bastards did.\n\nThe world was owned by the Faelords. They had a lifespan of hundreds of years. They were tall and beautiful with unbelievable speed and strength. They possessed advance knowledge and magic. Humans simply lived to serve them. In exchange they had food, shelter and safety from the monsters. They were barbaric compared to the Faelords. Some even worshipped them as gods. Yes, there were bad apples among the Faelords but what could humans do about it, except to endure?\n\nSomething inside Kaa changed. He was nowhere near as powerful or capable as a Faelord. But his head screamed for revenge. Something no human would dare to even think.\n\nMagic. He needed to learn their magic. The Faelords had told humans that they were too simple to understand how magic worked. Anyone who couldn’t use magic was worthless. But Kaa would prove them wrong.\n\nHe had an idea how.\n\nYurie was a young Faelord who was born without magic. She was treated like a human peasant by her own family. She wore dirty hand-me-down human clothing and was made to work hard like a servant. If she made a mistake her siblings would bully her while her parents watched and did nothing. She was lonely, until Kaa came in her life.\n\nThey became each other’s support. Kaa would help Yurie with her tasks, in exchange Yurie sneaked Kaa into her family’s library. Yes, she was aware that Kaa wanted to bring downfall of the Faelords. She loudly doubted if he could do it, learn magic that is, leave alone downfall of her race. Magic was something one was born with. But she accepted him.\n\nDays and nights went by and there was no sign of Kaa being able to do magic. Then he got caught in the library by one of Yurie’s brothers. He cursed at Kaa and attack him using magic when something in Kaa clicked and he returned the attack with magic. The two powers clashed and both fainted from shock.\n\nYurie saved Kaa by hiding him from the scene and making sure her brother didn’t recognize him. She herself was shaken and jealous by the fact that Kaa actually learnt magic.\n\nKaa decided to hide his new found magical powers from the Faelords and show it to humans. He would be the leader of a revolution. He gathered quite a following, Yurie being one of them. Some even showed sparks of magical powers which saddened Yurie further.\n\nThe Faelords finally noticed that their human peasants were acting strange. They decided to punish a few with death so the rest would be scared back into line. This made Kaa stand before them, alight with magic.\n\nMost of the Faelords were shocked but few sneered at him. Kaa had magical powers but he was no match if several Faelords attacked at once. And this was what happened. Kaa was killed infront of humans to crush their hope while Yurie ran away as an exile." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Due to a pact between your family and an immortal businessman, the man keeps your family wealthy throughout the generations in exchange of safeguarding his immortal pet snail from escaping. You have just inherited the sole responsibility of being its guardian for the rest of your life." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "'I killed it, I'm so sorry, I killed it. It was an accident I promise - I...I didnt realise it had escaped its enclosure, I didn't look down and next thing I knew, I heard this horrible sound.. I..I'\n\nI sat on the floor, heaving as I tried not to look at the gooey mess a few metres away from me. That crunch... I would hear that crunch for the rest of my life... Rest of my life? What was I even thinking - at this rate, I would be lucky if I survived the next day or so. I had just singlehandedly ruined the family fortune with one unfortunate step.\n\nI didn't think that the rest of my relatives would be quite so kind.\n\nI heard the doorbell ring in the distance. Belatedly ,I remembered yelling at the staff to leave the house. I started giggling to myself. Maybe we would be able to explain our inevitable destitution through rumours of the mad mistress and her pet snail.\n\nIt hit me that no one was there to open the door. I dragged myself up and staggered to it, pressing at random buttons till the gate opened, letting my mother in.\n\nShe pushed her way past me and gasped at the horror.\n\n'I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I've ruined everything, I've ruined everything and we are all now going to suffer for it, I'm so sorry', I found myself babling as she held me. It took me a while to realise that she was saying something.\n\n'Calm down, it's fine. We'll sort it out. Don't worry.'\n\n'But... the Snail God. Our fortune.'\n\n'It will be fine. It won't be easy, but it will be fine. Just wait here.'\n\nI stared at her as she whipped out her phone.\n\n'It happened. Yes. Yes, again. Yes, she's fine - who do we have on the ground? Do they have the pictures? How long will it take? Do we know when the next visit is? Ugh damn politicians. Ok. Uh huh? OK. You'll need to check that there's the right amount of gold. I don't want any expenses spared. Yep. Keep me posted.'\n\nShe turned to me.\n\n'Come on, we need to clean up this mess.'\n\n'Ma, what are you even on about? It's done. The immortal snail is dead.'\n\nHang on.\n\n'The immortal snail... what's going on?'\n\nShe sighed as she looked at me. 'Where does your cleaning staff keep their equipment?'\n\n'I don't know - I never thought to ask.'\n\n'You know, I've always told your dad you were too spoilt for your own good.'\n\nI stared at her as she carefully brushed the pieces of broken shell and gooey mess into a pile.\n\n'They'll be here in a day. Just make sure you bury this somewhere in the back garden and cover it up so that no one can see where you kept it.'\n\n'Ma, what the fuck is even going on? Just stop ffs and tell me what is going on!'\n\nShe paused and turned to me, sighing before she asked, 'Haven't you ever wondered why so many people in our family were explorers? Or why we cared so much about the Amazon rainforest? Or why we have invested billions into environmental conservation?'\n\n'I just.. I just thought that we were the good..'\n\n'Pfft. No one cares about that.'\n\nShe resumed wiping up the goo, before turning to me.\n\n'Our Lord and Saviour is simply too lazy to keep looking for rare snails.\n\nNow, get up and find me a box!'" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: A young Borrower is selected from his tribe to cross the vast plains of the Open Kitchen Space, to reach and reset the great Wifi Conduit." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Today's the day, the day I have to cross the great black and white plains. The time where I, have been selected to reset the WiFi Conduit. I couldn't believe it was my turn when my name was called. Every day I would sit and wait, staring down at the devices in my hand. All connected to the conduit that powered them with other conduita around the world. All in one big loop. It was amazing, such an interesting creation that has been made and yet I know almost nothing about it. Only how to bring it back when it decides to have rested again\n\nI remember I sat there amongst my tribe, the men and women that took apart of it were all around me, their own personal devices sat in their lap, tapping their fingers against the keyboards doing whatever they needed to do. Connecting with other conduits, putting messages through our own. Whatever they wished, it did, but after a while. It got slow, and then when it got slow. It stopped completely and we all would let out sighs of frustration, but not at it, at us using it so much. We knew what to do to bring it back, but it was a long walk to do so. We had all gotten comfortable and one of us needed to move from our spot, walk across the great ocean of black and white tiles and large appliances all to reach the conduit and be a hero when we brought it back\n\nWhenever it went down to sleep, someone got up to go and be a hero, to bring it back. They returned minutes later, and they returned to us smiling in thanks but this time. No one got up. They all looked at me. \"Can you bring it back?\" they asked me. \"Please, let it come back.\" Another would say and I could only nod through my stunned state. I didn't know what else to say. I was the chosen one.\n\nI lifted myself from the comfortable position of my furniture and I set aside my personal device, but my eyes kept locked onto the passageway that blocked me from the spot I stood and the plans of the Kitchen Space. I didn't waste any time as I took my first steps forward. My entire tribe watching me leave to take my adventure.\n\nMy hand reached for the brass handle that sat to the left of the door. My hand slowly twisting it before I pulled the door open into a long hallway that leaded to the great Kitchen Space. I stared out into it. My eyes catching site of all the appliances surrounding it. I could only stare in awe for another moment before I stepped from the wooden gate that lead me to the path. My hand sliding off the handle back to my side as I walked over.\n\nI was slightly intimidated. White appliances that were larger then me sat closest to the path. A low humming escaping it. I kept my eyes away from it, and settled them on the conduit. For such a large name it was such a small thing. It was no bigger then my hand as it sat there. Two green lights blinking, indicating that it was not able to connect to the other conduits in the world.\n\nMy hand ran across a smooth surface nearby the black furniture that was near the hall. The smooth surface was where we sat our bowls and plates to be able to hold the food we would make using the great kitchen space. Smooth and blue it curved into a sudden dip. The same bowls and plates that we would use sat inside and the neck of another piece of furniture above them. Two handled sat on each side. The lifeforce of Earth, the thing that sat in oceans came from this, and it cleaned our mess.\n\nMy mind wandered off as I thought to myself about the great mystery of the Kitchen Space and I suddenly felt a large pain shot up my foot and a crack escaping it. My toes had slammed into the table that was sat in the middle of the Kitchen Space. The same comfy furniture that was in the previous room sat around it. I remember hissing in pain. Raising my foot up to rub my hand against it. It wasn't bleeding, it just hurt. The pain shooting my foot, practically throbbing. It's not uncommon sustaining an injury from that piece of equipment in the plains of the Kitchen, but it certainly did not feel any better.\n\nMy foot lowered, my eyes locked into the conduit. I was only a few steps away, and the green lights didn't change. I was determined. I made my way over to it. Quick and easy, I was going to be a hero. My hand reached up to push against a large button at the top. The button that restarted and reseted the conduit, my thumb pressing into it and the green lights stopped blinking and dimmed.\n\nAt first it was scary, did I kill it? Was I not going to be a hero? But not moments later a green light dimmed to life. Unblinking, unmoving.\n\nThen another dimmed underneath it and a smile grew on my face as it came back to us. It's life force escaping through the home of our tribe and I knew I had done it. I turned my back to it and walked back through the plains of the Kitchen space, back to the room I once sat. I stepped into the room, my eyes looking over the smiles on my tribes face, their faces staring back down at their devices. Connecting to the other conduits. I felt pride rise in my chest and I gave a smile toward them all before I walked back to my seat. Pulling my device into my lap I spoke three words and my fingers glided over the keys at the bottom.\n\n\"Sorry about that.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Hagrid comes to your house and tell you your a wizard... A window installation wizard!" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Harry woke up to the sound of what sounded like a very fat man breathing over him. Having lived in a house with a group of very fat people, Harry at first did not register this as strange.\n\n\"Oi, Arry. You awake.\" The heavy breathing turned into a cough which woke harry from his feigned slumber. The man was large, so large in fact that his back brushed against the ceiling. It was the only apparent way the giant could fit.\n\n\"Who the....\"\n\nThe fat man jumped across the room and put a large smelly hand over Harry's mouth, muting whatever cry he was about to let out.\n\n\"Ey, ey steady now\" he whispered, blowing out his moustache \"I'm not ere to urt you\"\n\nAfter a moment of struggling Harry eventually gave up, and a moment after that the fat man released him and plonked him ungraciously back down onto the bed. Harry hoped that no-one had heard that, because if they had he would be sleeping without bed clothes again for a month.\n\n\"I'm Hagrid\" Hagrid said, pulling something out of his coat pocket. \"And Hagrid has something for you\"\n\nHarry looked at him cautiously before taking the letter from his hands. It was plain and white, with small indentations. \"What is this?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry Harry, but i dont know. I was given that here letter with the instruction not to open it till it was in your hands. Or no wait, i was instructed to let you open the letter in my hands. Yes that must have been it.\"\n\nHagrid grabbed the letter roughly off harry and knelt down to present the letter again. Not really knowing what was going on, Harry motioned to open the letter but Hagrid suddenly grabbed it away again.\n\n\"How about i open it for you and you read it\"\n\nHarry was beginning to become annoyed at the fat man who had intruded on his sleep. He folded his arms \"Why can't i just open it myself?\"\n\n\"Because Dumbledore was very clear, he said not to let anyone read that letter but you. So that means i open it and you read it\"\n\n\"That is not what that means!\" Harry hissed, making a move to grab the letter again but Hagrid was too fast pulling the letter away just as harry got a hold of it. In a moment of stillness, Harry heard the ripping of envelope followed by a strange green flame that engulfed the letter and whatever was inside it. Shortly after that the room returned to stillness.\n\nHagrid and Harry sat staring at one another for a while, Hagrid eventually poking at the ash that had once been the letter. \"I guess you were right, sorry about that. Its a failsafe mechanism, only ive never seen them burst into flames like that, they usually just let out a roar\"\n\nHagrid scooped up the ash and put it into his pocket. \"Well, sorry about that. I do have another letter for you. And i was given very specific instruction only to give it to you only if that there letter burst into flames\"\n\nHarry sat glaring at the fat man, he found none of this funny. It was bad enough that he had to live under the stairs, but now he had to be woken up in the middle of the night by fat hairy pyromaniacs who stole his letters. \"Are you going to let me open it\"\n\n\"Well, seeing as how the last one decided to explode, i think we'll let you open this one\" Hagrid said, handing the letter to Harry with newfound care.\n\nWithout waiting for Hagrid to snatch it back, Harry ripped open the envelope and read:\n\n\"Hello World,\n\nYou have been accepted into the window's school for World of War-craft and installer wizardry. If you have read this far, it means you are both literate and have opened the letter correctly, otherwise it would be engulfed by flame and be thoroughly unreadable. The first letter contained an invitation to the Hogwarts school for witchcraft and wizardry, but seeing as you destroyed that one, we can only assume that a life as a computer wizard is more suitable\"\n\nHarry looked slowly up at the fat Giant, who was behind him trying to read the letter. The giant had a sort of strange look on his face, as if trying to hold in laughter or very bad gas.\n\n\"I was going to be a wizard, and you destroyed the letter?\"\n\nHagrid scratched his head and moved quickly toward the window, which he had broken to gain access to the room. \"So sorry about that Arry, but whats done is done. That's never happened before\"\n\n\"So you can fix it?\n\n\"No, can't be fixed. I was given instruction to not allow you to change your letter once you had destroyed the first\"\n\nHarry felt like hitting Hagrid. What did he mean \"once\" he had destroyed the first. Was this planned.\n\n\"Hagrid you fat piece of ....\"\n\nBut before Harry could finish what he was going to say, Hagrid had jumped out the window and disappeared across the sky on a motor bike leaving Harry staring open mouthed out the window, clutching the invitation letter in his hands.\n\nA loud bang at the door forecasted the entry of his Uncle Vernon who almost barrelled into Harry in his anger. \"You! Get to bed and quit shouting out the window! I swear your aunt is at her wits end. She has choir in the morning boy!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1400-1500 words. Prompt: Write a zombie apocalypse story. Constraint: tell it from a zombie's perspective." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Day 1:\n\nThis is the end. There’s no point in fighting against it. I’ve already coughed up most of the blood in my body. My skin is starting to sag and lose its elasticity. I can hardly lift my head up and the light hurts my eyes. All of my companions have abandoned me now. They just left me for dead in this god forsaken apartment building. Well fuck them, I hope they get their jugulars torn out by one of the infected. Serves them right for not even keeping me from turning. I’m too tired to be this angry I think I’m just going to go to sleep.\n\nDay 2:\n\nIs today a new day? I can’t really tell. I remember going to sleep, waking up, and it was bright outside. It’s possible that today is a new day, but I could have sworn I was dying yesterday. I need to get out of here before the dead find me or I really will be dead meat. I tried being sneaky and getting out through a window in the back of the apartment, but I guess I’m more tired than I thought because I fell flat on my face.\n\nWhen I finally came to the dead were swarming around me, but they weren’t attacking me. Are these things stupid? I probably shouldn’t be talking trash about things that can pick my bones clean in a minute. I just counted my blessings and tried to get out of the city and find my group. I vaguely remember they set up camp on an old hiking trail somewhere to the east of the city, but I can’t pinpoint the exact location. If I find a map of the area I should be able to find where they are.\n\nDay 9:\n\nI’m famished, I’m exhausted, and I have the most killer headache. I haven’t drunk or eaten anything in well over a week. That combined with my recurring insomnia is leaving me too weak to even sprint or lift my hands over my head. I tried to eat some food at a grocery store, but everything was rotten and tasted like bile. I couldn’t make out what the expiration date was, but I figure since there’s no more refrigeration that expiration date is a lot closer.\n\nOn the bright side of all this I know where my companions were. I found a map of the hiking trail where they were camping out at the parks and recreation center outside of the city. On my way out though some ass wipe ran out behind me and whacked me in the back of the head with what looked like a mop handle. Karma’s a bitch though because he got maybe 30 more feet before tripping on said mop handle. He must have eaten recently because when the zombies tore him open his stomach smelled like rabbit. Was it rabbit, or was it deer? Either way it smelled good.\n\nDay 15:\n\nI’ve made it to the trail. I would love to give those guys a piece of my mind. How could they just leave more for dead like that? At least make sure I don’t turn so there’s one less zombie in this hell. It’s going to be hard to get to them though because I tripped over a speed bump and I twisted my ankle. It hurts a little, but I can keep going. Maybe if I call for them they’ll hear me and help me get to the camp.\n\nDay 20:\n\nI have been out here for way too long. They should have heard me by now. I know for sure the deer and bears hear me because they just walk away from me when I get in view. Maybe I misjudged how far way their camp was from the main trail. I have tried catching fish in a stream nearby, but I am too slow to catch them. I think it does not help my situation that my hand-eye coordination is a little lacking without any sleep or nourishment.\n\nDay 22:\n\nI need to eat. I need to eat anything. I will eat anything you put in front of me right. I could go for a burger, but unless I stumbled on a ranch that will not happen. I could even eat a salad. I hate salads. There only redeeming quality is high quantities of vitamins and minerals, but I do not need those. I need meat. I need something to fill my stomach. I need to feel my skin expand and my stomach become lead.\n\nI know these assholes can hear me as well because I can hear myself. I am screaming at the top of my lungs, but they refuse to even answer me. I am going to beat the second one I see because I need the first one to take me to camp and feed me. I really hope they find me because I need food.\n\nDay 27:\n\nI finally found some food. A deer had gotten shot, but whoever shot it just left it there to die. They left it to die just like me. I felt sorry for it, but I needed to eat more than it needed to live. I shoved my face straight into their side and just started knowing on them. The taste of meat and blood felt so wonderful. I could not help myself and I just ate and ate until there was no more. There was more, but my stomach had been filled and I did not want to lose what I had just gained. I will definitely come back for more.\n\nDay 40:\n\nI am so close to the camp. I saw my former friend Steve and tried to call out to him. He just turned to me and ran. He did not even scream in terror seeing my sickly form. I expected him to at least ask why I am still alive. It does not matter though because I am following his trail back to camp. I will get help and they will know my pain.\n\nDay 43:\n\nThey shot me. They actually shot me. I found my way to the camp and when I walked up to the gate that bastard Cameron shot me. I guess it did not go that far in to my body because there was not any blood coming out. Alright I am mad now. This is fucking ridiculous. They want to leave me for these fucking corpses and shoot me when I come back. No, they are going to feel my pain.\n\nNight 43:\n\nWhen that cunt Cameron went to sleep it took them a few minutes to change the guard. I took this time to sneak in and find someone isolated. It was such perfect timing as well. They started panicking about a zombie getting in the camp. Good maybe if they survive from it they will learn to switch guards quicker. Someone was leaving the latrine and I have found my target.\n\nMichael had just finished his business and I am going to finish mine. I always hated this guy so this will be good fun. I am sure he was one of the people that said I was not worth finding. I tried to get the jump on him from behind the door, but I just fell on him. I clawed and flailed my arms at the back of his head until he drew blood. The more I flailed the more I realized he smelled delicious. I mean he smelled just like that dear I had eaten a while back. Come to think of it I have never eaten human before. I wonder if it tastes just as good.\n\nI sank my teeth into the back of his neck and just savored the flavor. It tasted like pork, but it had a salty after taste. I am pretty sure that is just because of his sweat. He screamed, he begged, he prayed, but still I ate. I gnashed and smashed on his skin until he stopped screaming. After a while I realized the taste was fading so I got up and looked for my next victim.\n\nWandering around the camp was suspiciously quiet, but it looks like they had failed to repel the zombies. Their bodies were scattered over the site and zombies swarmed over them like wild dogs. While I was not one of them I understood their fascination with human flesh. There was nobody left in the camp so I moved on to find a group that would save me. I should probably leave out that cannibalism bit if they ever ask if I have killed someone." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Poseidon, Zeus and Hades were mobsters in a 20s era city kinda. Zeus was a corrupt mayor, poseidon owned the ports and Hades owned the back alley drug trade/speakeasies." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Hermes never get tired of his job. Sending messages to god to god allows him to see a lot of interesting and funny things about the organized crime in Athens, and also about the personal lifes of each god. Last week, he learned about the kidnapping of Persephone, daughter of Zeus in one of his... Extra-conjugal relationships. No one knows were Persephone was, with exception of Hermes. He know that Hades, the Drug Trade dealer, was maintaining Persephone in his mansion. Hermes telled Zeus, and Zeus only, where Persephone were, and then, Hermes listened, guess what, in another message, this time with poseidon, that Zeus was taking his cops to a quick travel to Hades domains. Hermes was following then, right now, in his car. Together wth him, were Hephaestus and Ares. Hephaestus was there because he projected the police waepons, and he wanted to know his efficiency. Ares was there because, like Hermes, he just wanted to see some blood, he was holding his classic machine gun, just in case.\n\nThe three arrive at Hades mansion quite late, but they can listen to the inumerous shoots and the sound of Zeus \"Lightning\" (The weapon was actually a really tiny cannon, but with a strike bigger than a artilhery cannon. Hephaestus were very pround of his invention). The shooting stops short after. The only gods the three saw leaving tge building were Zeus and Persephone. Persephone was crying, if it was from shock or from grave of his captor, Hermes never knew, and Zeus was severed injured by some shoots, but he kept walking, holding Persephone's hand. Hermes then notice a famous figure on the street, holding a pistol. Is Zeus wife, Hera. Before Hermes could even think, Hera shoots Zeus several times, the god falls on the ground, unconcious or dead. Persephone screams, tears falling from his face. Hera spits into the ground and says to Zeus body.\n\n\"I was aways loyal to you, as a wife, i never cheated on you with any man, i was aways there, to serve the obligations imposed by the marriage. But what were you doing? You were negligecting our marriage, and having relations with every prostitute you could find in this cursed city. You even had your own bastards, like this girls here\" Hera point the gun at Persephone \"But dont whorry, Zeus. I will fix your mistakes, beggining with this one\"\n\n\"Please.... No\" Persephone says.\n\nAnd then... The shot.\n\nHera falls into the ground, yelling. While Ares rifles her multiple times, putting a unnunspected end into the carnage.\n\nAfter a couple of minutes trying to calm down Persephone, the three decide to take her to their flat, until they get someone to take care of her. She doesnt say almost any word during the days where she stayed in the flat. Hermes coudnt judge her. She had passed throw a lot of things, but hey, at least Hermes had a new history to tell on the pub...\n\n(Sorry, this wasnt my best history 😥)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Write a sad story about a bomb squad agent telling a man they can't defuse the bomb attached to him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alex held his breath, counted to twelve, and then cut the wire.\n\nNothing happened.\n\nThe question hung in the air and grew and solidified until it became a living thing that demanded attention.\n\n'We're nearly there,' lied Alex.\n\nThe man in front of him was called Jonathan Langley. He was forty-seven years old, had a wife back home in Seattle, and two kids. He had photos of them on his phone. But he liked the one at the back of his wallet the best. He liked the way he could hold it in his hands. It had been taken in New York, Central Park, right by the lake. His youngest kid, Felix, had asked him what the difference was between a lake and a reservoir and then why some places have so much water and some don't and wasn't it all unfair. He remembered thinking how quickly kids grow up.\n\nJonathan had told Alex all this while he stood there, arms out to the sides, keeping his feet rooted to the ground, trying desperately to keep his breathing steady while wondering if he would ever see his family again. They had a holiday planned in the fall - a two week vacation in Europe. First in London where Suzie - his wife - had some relations, and then on to Paris, followed by Rome. The kid were excited.\n\n'Just relax,' said Alex, staring at the wire he had just cut. Something should have happened, something should have stopped.\n\nAlex looked at the device strapped to the man who was going to die and he felt his heart beating in his chest and the sweat on his palms, and his mind grasping at solutions he couldn't reach. This man was going to die and all the training he had done, all the devices he had built and deconstructed, all the lives he had saved... it all came to this and right now, right here, amid all the chaos of war and the greed of men, he was going to watch a man die.\n\n'You gone awful quiet, sir. Tell me you can do something. You can do something, right? Tell me I'm gonna see my family again. You can do something, right?'\n\nAlex continued to stare at the device, refusing to look the man in the eye. He knew what he would see because he had seen it before.\n\n'I'm going to need you to be brave, Jonathan, okay? I'm going to need to be braver than you've ever been before, okay?'\n\n'What do you mean? What do you mean? What do you mean I've got to-'\n\n'I'm sorry, Jonathan. I need you to be brave. I need to be able to Tell your kids that their Dad was a hero. Do you understand want I'm saying?'\n\n'Just take it off. Please, don't leave. Please. Please. Please, just take it off. Anything, anything, my family, please don't. Please don't go, I - please -'\n\nAlex held the man by the shoulders and he looked into a face that was red with fear, and eyes that were looking through a lens of despair.\n\n'Your wife. Your kids. Seattle?'\n\nJonathan nodded, his breath erratic, hoarse; mouth quivering, downturned.\n\n'I'm sorry, Jonathan. I am so, so sorry.' He took a step away from the man.\n\n'Don't leave, please, please, you've got to do something.' Johnathan took a step forwards.\n\nAlex raised his hands, 'I'm sorry. Please stay here, I beg you, please stay where you are.' And then, because he must, 'I'll be back, I'm going to get help, okay Jonathan? I'm going to be back, but I need you to stay here. I need you t be brave for me, okay?'\n\nJonathan let his arms fall to his sides and he did not cover his grief and the sounds tore through the air because although he clung to hope, he knew that he was going to die. My kids!' he said, 'my kids!'\n\nAlex was counting under his breath as he took careful paces away from the man. He hated the way each quietly sounded number brought him one step closer to safety and the man he would remember for the rest of his life one pace closer to his ending.\n\nEight.\n\nSome ran. Some collapsed. Some raged and some were silent. Jonathan stood still and now he was reduced to silence, to his singular thoughts, his unique existence, his few moments.\n\nNine.\n\nAlex knew that Jonathan knew that he was going to die. That these seconds were his last. That he would never see his wife or children again. That he would never breathe in the fresh air, feel the touch of soft skin, sip coffee, read the paper, laugh, smile, think about tomorrow and all the possibilities the world could bring.\n\nTen.\n\nAlex raised his an arm. 'I'm sorry,' he said, loud enough to be heard. The area had been cleared. The safety parameters established, he had done his best which was not enough.\n\nAlex's arm fell and several shots rang out and the man who was born as Jonathan Langley and who had so far lived a full and generally good life, collapsed to the ground.\n\nAlex wiped his brow and for the first time in the twenty-seven minutes, he looked at his watch. He took no pride in the knowledge that his internal clock remained near-perfect.\n\nThree minutes.\n\nAnd if nothing happened after three minutes?\n\nThen Alex would feel as he felt now. Sick and lonely and full of a pain that could not be removed.\n\nHe closed his eyes and listened to the ticking beat of his heart." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A detective conducting an interrogation is shocked when he discovers the motives behind a mother of three shooting her husband with his shotgun in their home." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Sheriff, we’d better go in there now. She didn’t confess directly when she dialled 911 and we need to get it on record before she changes…” Ned was cut short by the Sheriff.\n\n“I know, I know, but Ned, do you really think she did it?” The Sheriff was a large man. Perhaps 6ft 3 and brawny for his age. Normally his presence was overbearing. However this evening’s perturbing crime has left his face blank, almost naive looking.\n\n“Sheriff I…” Ned stumbled on his words. “I seen her when they took her in. Her hands were covered in blood and she had a frightful look on her face like I ain’t ever seen on someone before. Listen Sheriff, I know you and Martha have been very good acquaintances up until now and you sure as hell knew…” he paused before correcting himself “know her a lot better than I do. Perhaps I oughta be the one…” But the Sheriff interrupted once more feeling his command was at risk.\n\n“Nope, this has gotta be done right. I’ll talk to her. I’ll just get the confession now and we can cross-examine tomorrow when our heads are clear and we have a fuller picture. Ned, you head on up to the scene. Make sure those kids are alright. The eldest is tough enough but the other two need to see a face they recognise.” The Sheriff’s tone had recovered slightly and there was no questioning his decision. “Somebody get me a coffee he shouted just to make clear that he was still in charge.\n\nCoffee in hand the Sheriff quietly entered the interrogation room and sat himself down uncomfortably close to Martha. Her face clearly ached of pain and a displayed a similar look of confusion to the one the Sheriff had felt on his own only a short while before. But her appearance was also far darker. Her clothes and hair were covered in drying blood. Her hands folded neatly on the table were stained up to the elbows. Most district were her bright blue eyes bloodshot and staring right through the Sheriff.\n\n“Hello Daniel” she spoke calmly and without discernible emotion.\n\n“Martha, your husband is dead, Bill is dead. Do you know that?” Martha said nothing and the Sheriff turned on the tape and began recording. As he gruffly read through the standard introduction he failed to notice a look of panicked fright wash over Martha’s face momentarily. “Martha Grahams” he continued in an official tone, “Would state clearly where you have been and what you have been doing this evening in the moments surrounding the death of your Husband, Bill Grahams’ death?”\n\n“I was at home and I shot him,” she paused “I shot him in the kitchen at around half past ten this evening” The Sheriff found himself taken a back. He just had not been expecting to hear it but there was more shock to come. “I made him dinner then I went to the gun locker and stole his shotgun. I loaded it and shot him in the back.”\n\nSomething was dawning on the Sheriff but it was too large for him to see the whole picture at once. Bill’s shotgun wasn’t real. Why was she covered in so much blood? What could the motive be? She didn’t do it. At this moment a junior officer burst into the room exasperated. Sheriff, one of the kids. He took Ned’s gun and he shot Ned and the other boys and then he killed himself. They’re dead Sheriff. What do we do? Sheriff Daniel swung his eyes back round to Martha. Her eyes had already glazed over staring into the infinite distance never to glance something close again." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: After you die, you have 7 minutes of consciousness left in your brain where you relive your entire life in a dream. During your 7 minutes, you become lucid and realize what is happening." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I recall first that in van Helmont’s Lurianic theodicy each individual would have twelve reincarnations and that greater souls would be reborn in lesser ones to help them achieve salvation. We might call this apocatastasis, associated originally with Origen (anathematized at the Council of Constantinople in 553 C.E.), but Origen—right or wrong—did not have the hubris to claim how many reincarnations we would have.\n\nIt is no coincidence that I recall it. For after death I have experienced my life—beginning to end, aleph to omega—exactly as I have lived it. And its end, as I now recall, like every end of all my lives, is those same seven minutes that recall recursively to the beginning of my life that ends with seven minutes recalling the beginning that ends with seven minutes recalling the beginning and so on. It is a function without discernible purpose or end.\n\nAll that follows is my attempt to rescue from oblivion a latent fear: the vast, contradictory equation of my life, whose recursive privity affirms, denies and confuses everything like a delirious God. My life stretches out behind me... Before me.\n\nWhen I think back to my first life I remember recalling it from the vantage point of deaths minutes. And the life that remembers my first life, ur-life, is itself being recalled by a preceding ur-ur-life. Each life representing a narrow thesis: whose property is bracketed between birth and death but whose exact convergence can never be found. A series of moments identical, unchanging, false through all duplicative iterations and a consciousness dolloped onto handfuls of postmortum points.\n\nThe Bolzano-Weierstrass Theorem hypothesized that in a book with infinitely many pages bound between finite covers there must be at least one “leaf of convergence” having the following property: between that “leaf of convergence” and any other leaf there is always yet another leaf. If having one such frightful leaf were not enough, if our model has a leaf sewn in at each rational point in its spine then every leaf is a leaf of convergence.\n\nThat Bolzano and Weierstrass could come so close to theodicy is no coincidence. I suppose it some reflection, like my death, of a fundamental property of the world.\n\nI remember four minutes. Or perhaps, worse, I am being remembered with four minutes.\n\nIt would be dreadful to suffer this way for one moment; but I must suffer it to all eternity. There will be no end to this exquisite, horrible misery. When I look forward I see a boundless line before me, which will swallow up my thoughts, and burn my soul. I will absolutely despair of ever having any deliverance, any end, any mitigation, any rest at all. I will wear out long ages, millions of millions of ages in this faceless attrition. And then when I have done, when so many ages have been spent by me in this manner, I will know that all is but a point along the line. So that my punishment will indeed be infinite.\n\nI sometimes suppose that I can only wish for Satan’s fiety state, with the nine circles of the Christians Hades, with Lucifer’s throne, and with the flags of the Prince of Darkness; the Muslem underworld, with Iblis’ kingdom of icy torment; and Gebhurah’s territory, to the left of the Temple, where the Hebrew gods of evil, greed and hunger sit, in Gehenna, under Asmodeus’ rule.\n\nBut conjecture provides the following: these three underworlds do not interfere with one another; their common borders are impossible. In Jewish Belial, the angel of darkness and sin, it is not Jews who burn. Arabs or Christians burn there. Similarly, there might be no Christians in the Christian hell—those who reach the fires are Muslim or of David’s faith, whereas in Iblis’ torture chamber they are all Christians and Jews, not a single Muslim.\n\nIt answers at least one question for me by analogy. Imagine Al-Masudi, who fears his own horrible yet so-familiar hell, but finds himself in Hebrew Sheol or the Christians Hades instead where evil will be waiting for him. Likewise imagine myself: who feared his own horrible yet so-familiar hell but finds himself here. Perhaps that is where all atheists go.\n\nOnly a minute. Let’s go. I’m ready. And yet I can see stretching out in all directions infinite lives approaching ever closer but never reaching the final dark. I think I remember there only being five minutes to go, now." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: The afterlife has a side effect: when a living person thinks of you in a positive or negative way, you feel either pleasure or pain respectively. You, a historically unimportant figure, are suddenly in agony 500 years after your death." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "NOTE - This is my first ever WP, and I have only written one other short story. Looking to start writing, as I love reading and would one day like to write my own novel. Please feel free to provide feedback on my writing, what works, what doesn't work etc. Also a heads up that I pretty much stayed up through the night creating and modifying this story, so it may not have great flow because I am pretty tired now.\n\nPeople said the dead can't feel anything. They were wrong. It's the only thing that can remind me that I once lived. Unfortunately the dead can only feel something if a living person thinks about them. I can't tell you the last time someone alive has thought about me, here that's called the second death.\n\nI have been dead roughly 500 years, give or take a generation or two. I stopped counting a few decades after my children and their children joined me. I thought that was all I wanted, to be reunited with my family. I was also wrong. Now I just want the living to think of me, in any manner. Just so I can have an emotion, no matter how fleeting it is or if its joy or agony that it brings. Pleasure and happiness are brought on by positive thoughts, and conversely negative thoughts bring pain.\n\nTime passes slowly here, a day feels like an eternity, and news of the living world passes even slower considering the only news station we get, are those recounting their lives once they have reached the afterlife. Even then, the \"news\" is mostly about family affairs and the odd soul asking if their favorite sports team finally won a championship. I do not keep track of current events because they do not matter to me, like I do not matter to the living any more.\n\nMy daily routine is to search out each family member and select friends to sit and share our memory of the day. We have heard each others lives; from there and back again an innumerable amount of times, so we agreed to do only a single story each day. Its a struggle to sit there and reminisce of times long past but not get a sliver of sentiment or rejoice from it. There's no mirth in the laughter accompanying a retelling of a joke for the hundredth time, just a robotic, practiced sound lacking substance. Blank, lifeless stares shedding no tears during what should be heart wrenching recollections of lost loves, or the final moments with family members. The absence of animation is deafening.\n\nI have made a game out of these visits, I try to guess what story they are going to tell. I am in the middle pondering which memory my friend will be telling me when I am hit with a sharp,sudden shock of excruciating pain that just tears through every fiber of my being. It feels like a heart attack but a million times over. I fall to the ground, rolling and writhing in pain, trying to scream but all that I can manage is a whimper. After what feels like a lifetime, I can finally start comprehending what just happened. Not just someone, but thousands and possibly millions of the living thought about me. Not just any thoughts, vile, contempt and complete loathing. After this realization, I did the one thing I can do when my emotions are overloaded. I cry, I cry uncontrollably. At first my tears are from all the negative and damning thoughts coming from the living, but then I start cackling hysterically because of them. The beauty of the pain is indescribable, but I rejoice in the fact that I feel something again. I hope it never ends.\n\nHours pass as I just lie there and bask in all the jolts of sharp agony, sudden onsets of the head splitting migraines that come and go and are replaced by other discomforts. The pain doesn't end completely, but subsides enough that I can finally manage it and I slowly get up to test my legs as if I am like a newborn calf. I take a few unsteady steps, teeter slightly, and almost fall back down. I keep my balance and start making my way back to my wife. I am smiling ear to ear, I never thought I would ever feel anything ever again.\n\nOnce I got back to Klara, my wife, I recount as much as I can about the event while fighting bouts of being the recipient of countless revolting thoughts and denunciations. She is as much confused and dumbfounded as I am as to why now all of a sudden I am in such bad judgement. The pleasure from feeling pain again faded over the weeks as it was apparent that the living were not going to stop thinking about me in undesirable ways.\n\nWhat once was my wish became a hellish nightmare. The living kept thinking about me and wishing death upon me again, I rarely received solace from their convictions. No one was able to puzzle out why until a few decades passed when we finally had someone come to the afterlife that was able to shed light on the situation. There was some significant shifts in religious beliefs. Back in my day, it was said that the sins of the father are not the sins of the son (and vice versa). Now, as told by the newcomer, The Church and Bible have modified this passage. The Church now claims that the failings of the son, is the fault of the father. Their line of reasoning is that if the parents raised a child properly, that child would not have strayed from the path of God and would have stayed pure and true. The Church, and the world as a whole has changed perspectives and are trying to preach that prevention is the best practice.\n\nWhile I am relieved to hear that my son will be less frequently plagued by spells of excruciating pain, I fear that the rest of my existence will be condemned to a relentless assault from the living. Each day is a struggle to not blame Adolph for my suffering, considering I have long forgiven him. Now that I am being held accountable for his actions though, I may not be able to see or speak to him for a few centuries." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You finally did it. You mastered necromancy. Why did you spend years mastering one of the hardest schools of magic? To become the best general labor company there is." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "By rights they should be dead.\n\nBefore dawn, they shambled forth. First to the fields, the vineyards and the orchards, to reap the swollen corn and beans, budding herbs, hefty roots, green vegetables, heavy nuts, and sweet, ripe fruit. Their fingers became stained with juice or soil, smelling of onions or tomatoes, and of flesh and sweat. They hungered for grains.\n\nThe spell was an ugly one. Its construction was clever, its casting complex, its power broad and far-reaching. Difficult to cast, far more so to cast safely, nigh impossible to reverse. A gruesome thing to behold, worse to perform, far worse to endure, all agreed. But its most horrible secret, the Master dared not entrust to anyone.\n\nThen came the factory workers, to turn the wheels of industry. Each did their work diligently on the line, stitching the clothes and shoes, separating usable product from waste, cutting the flesh of slaughtered animals, packaging this or that, operating this or that machinery.\n\nThe work was dull and repetitive, but not quite dull and repetitive enough to do by machine. The only machine that can do the work of a human body was, of course, the human body. The living would not do, with all their needs and wants and rights, but among the most powerful wizards was kept the secret of how to make bodies less than dead, and yet not fully alive. The Master of the Dead had amassed fifty thousand in this city alone, claiming the bodies of criminals, refugees, and foreigners.\n\nBy rights they should be dead.\n\nOthers among the human bodies the Master owned went alone or in small groups. They worked as domestics, valets, housekeepers, janitors, guards, line chefs, servers, waiters, drivers, and all the rest. The living were suspicious of their loyalties, and often felt profaned by their very touch, but employers could rarely resist the price of their labor. And much of that price was collected by the Master of the Dead.\n\nSome of the living had only fear and contempt for them. Did they know that their fear and anger and disgust only fueled the Master's power? That their curses and epithets only strengthened his spells? That the blood of the dead spilled by the living was the ink that writ the spell of binding? The living would never again earn the wages their ancestors had. All that was left was to make common cause with the Master, or else with the dead.\n\nThe Master knew this well, for his control over bodies was only instrumental to his true goal, to be a prince of the Living. Money had bought him that, and there was more, always more. It had taken him over a century and a half to master his craft, and centuries more of his predecessors' work to learn from and expand on.\n\nAnother body was returned to him in his refrigerated workshop. It had been a man of great size and strength, a valuable investment for his employer, until his heart burst. A replacement had already been sent. The kid who brought it in eyed the corpse nervously, fingering the weapon on his hip. The Master reassured him, and insisted that he depart, promising him that what would happen next was too horrible to witness, no matter how much courage the kid claimed.\n\nWhen the kid left, the Master of the Dead slid the corpse into the concealed incinerator. There was nothing more he could do. No sorcery could restore a dead body to life. No one must know that they were all living. The Master repeated the spell that everyone must believe:\n\n\"By rights they should be dead.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: When you became a Witch Hunter, you imagined spending your days fighting black magic and slaughtering evil in the name of the Lord. Sadly, most of your days are spent investigating false alarms called in by peasants who don't know the first thing about any magic, much less the evil kind." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Under oath, you claim to have seen her cast a spell?” I said.\n\n“Oh I did, magistrate,” the toothless farmer said. “Saw her with my own two eyes. She cast a spell so fierce it killed half my crops.”\n\nI gazed over to the field of dead crops, then to the shivering girl. Her skin was caked with dirt and her clothes were ragged and torn. The look of fear clogged the young girl’s eyes.\n\n“What’s her name?” I asked.\n\n“Tinsel.” The farmer spat a putrid glob of black spit. “She’s a witch I’ll tell ya. Saw her cast her dark magic the other night. The damned magic killed all my crops—blasted women killed Ornor as well. Found him dead with rot-jaw few days back after he took her in to his home.”\n\nThe farmer reached in his pocket and pulled a clump of devil’s weed and shoved it in his mouth then said, “I don’t like her, magistrate. She’s bad for this town.”\n\n“Not liking someone does not warrant for an arrest, farmer,” I said, shaking my head.\n\nI walked over to Tinsel who flinched as I got within arm’s length.\n\n“Tinsel,” I whispered. “I’m going to get you out of here but you have to kick and scream as I drag you, ok?”\n\nHer body shook uncontrollably as I grew closer.\n\n“Trust me,” I said.\n\nShe gave me half a nod as I yanked her from her feet and dragged her to my carriage. The young girl kicked and screamed just as planned. Though I assumed her reaction was all too real, especially when the sentence for witchcraft was death.\n\nI shoved her in the carriage and barked an order. Within seconds we were heading down the dirt road and back to the royal city.\n\n“I promise I didn’t do anything,” Tinsel pleaded.\n\nI grabbed her and looked her in the eyes. “I know. Don’t worry, you’re not under arrest.”\n\nTinsel’s shaking steadied ever so slightly as the bumpy ride put the old village far in the distance.\n\n“You’re to take on a new life, Tinsel.” I yanked a few twigs from her hair. “A royal servant—a life much more lavish that what you’ve had. I’m afraid it is not safe for you in that village, if it were any other law figure, they may have seen you to the gallows out of sheer greed.”\n\n“How do you know I’m telling the truth?” she said. “Well I’m not a witch, but I hear of the stories: if a women is even questioned for witchcraft she is likely to be arrested and hung.”\n\n“That farmer’s crops were dead due to poor care,” I said. “Not enough water—which likely went to the devil’s weed. That blasted plant soaks up more than enough water and is likely how Ornor died. That weed is known to rot your jaw and kill you, yet people still chew it.”\n\nTinsel grew calm and her shaking was barely visible.\n\n“Why do you do this?” She asked. “You have no gain in saving me. You’ll likely lose coin—I know the bounties. If you successfully see a witch to the gallows, you will receive a handsome reward.”\n\n“It is my duty,” I said. “Honor over all else. Justice will not fault under my eye.”\n\nTinsel leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “And your deed will never fault under mine.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: A genius atheist scientist finishes his design for a spaceship capable of FTL travel. However, due to his extremely asocial personality, he can’t find people willing to fund the construction of a prototype. While out on the street he finds an unlikely financial backer, the Catholic Church." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Welcome,Ms.Kim.”\n\nI look at the woman in front of me. Her skin in wrinkled,black spots layered across her face. I can almost smell that the woman is dying.\n\n“You look tired. Has the portal traffic been unpleasant?”\n\nShe pushes a chair towards me,herself sitting on a couch. I can’t tell if the material is made of neo-jelly or just synthetic leather.\n\n“Quaint.” I finally speak. The last catholic church on earth they said. I had not expected a stone building and a few chairs made of plant fiber.\n\n“What would you mean?” She raises a almost non existent eyebrow,her white hair,white hair! shifting. White hair had gone out of fashion several weeks ago. Either she was a hipster or just...old.\n\n“No golden constructs of light? Booming voices,holographic movies?”\n\nI walk around the chair that she pushed,putting a hand on it to feel it. Coarse,splinters. Too uncomfortable to be real.\n\n“And a physical meeting? What’s your plan here? Reverse psychology?”\n\nShe laughs,the wheezing sound of her breath is momentarily covered by the burst of energy,then silenced as she coughs.\n\n“No,no.Not at all Ms.Kim. These are all real as you are. We couldn’t even pay for the electric bill for holo-constructs even if we wanted to show off like the others.”\n\n“Hm.” I finally sit down,my synthetic legs twisting themselves into a comfortable position. The chair creaks under my weight.\n\nA moment of awkward silence passes. I notice that outside it’s slowly raining,my HUD tells me that I’m smelling wet soil and steam.\n\n“Why would you support me? Do you want to see me fail? Are you trying to use my prototype to resurrect your religion?”\n\nI finally spit out the question that had been nagging me since yesterday.\n\n“Fail? On the contrary. And for the second,we shall see.”\n\nIt’s my time to raise an eyebrow. I slowly pick up the cup and drink the tea. Bitter. I’m not sure if it’s synthetic or not.\n\n“It won’t work you know. Whatever you do your religion is dead.”\n\nShe stands up,looking directly at me. I still continue though.\n\n“More the 68 percent of modern faiths are led by AI constructs created to tell people what they want. You can’t compete with hundreds of years of data,even with a miracle.”\n\nContrary to my simulations,she slowly walks towards the backdrop of the room,only that it’s littered with books.\n\n“Even your religion”-\n\nI pause as she puts a book down on the table. Dust flies from its pages,the scent of old paper trails it.\n\n“That,is my religion. Not the constructed things my son would have me believe.”\n\nThe rain continues to tap the building’s exterior.\n\n“A book written by dead people of the 23rd century,who translated it from a older text that had be translated? It’s no less constructed that the holo angels that walk in the capital.”\n\n“But you believe that there is more to life.”\n\nI untwist my leg. The question that had been nagging me for my entire life.\n\n“There is nothing more to life.”\n\n“But you’re here,not in your own holo realm. That is answer enough.”\n\nSuddenly,the doors open. A younger,but still old couple enters,with a child grabbing on other arms.\n\n“No one sane would want to leave this paradise. Immortality,eternal youth,endless pleasure with just the appropriate amount of pain.”\n\nIt’s true. No one wanted to leave the planet. Why would they? The last investor simply wanted a prop to add in his artificial space empire based on the scan of the andromeda galaxy.\n\n“Now you’re calling me insane?”\n\n“Perhaps.” She smiles,simply standing up on a wooden stick. She looks dangerously unstable,but she walks on.\n\n“We’ve already made preparations. I simply wished to include just one more soul that we could save.”\n\n“I have but one question. Will you join us?”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: The year is 2213. You've been illegally picked up in the latest sweep by corporate police on the grounds that you're a debtor. They have no idea who they'd just grabbed and thrown in the back of the bus with a simple ziptie around your wrists." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "2:13 AM\n\n‘Don’t be scared mi Mari, don’t be scared’ Maria thought to herself.\n\n‘Believe in your plan. They WILL come tonight. They can’t of figured the codding errors through yet. The messages were too obscure. The genome alterations were novel and undetectable. ’\n\n2:54 AM\n\nA high pitched whizzing filled the air around Maria’s apartment until her neo-oaken door disintegrated into itself as the as the corporate police’s object-reclaimers did their job. Quietly and efficiently seventeen corporate police officers entered the living room.\n\n‘Don’t be scared mi Mari’ echoed through Maria’s head; the words of her grandmother in the halcyon days.\n\nSilently and without warning three CPOs opened the door to her sleeping quarters pulled her from her bed. Within moments her hands were zip-tied and her eyes covered. They then turned her over and placed her back down onto her bed. One of the CPO technospecialists installed a spinal lockout on her third vertebrae. Her body went limp. Two brute officers entered the room, each monstrously genome enhanced, nearing seven feet in height and weighing more than 300 pounds each. The wrapped her in a body casing and hustled her out of the room and down the seven flights of stairs to street level. Tears began to drip inside her Maria’s blindfold.\n\n‘I’m coming for you abuelita.’\n\nOnce near a holding van they removed her body casing and tossed her into the back with two others. As her body flew through the air she caught glimpse of them. Neither were martyr volunteers that she recognized. That didn’t matter, she knew they were and felt a closeness to them and their shared sacrifice.\n\n‘We must have only minutes now. I’m scheduled to be one of the last. I hope the consumers catch the message. It’s time we be citizens again.’\n\nMaria smiled. Eight years she had coded for Neo-South. Eight long years she had worked her way up the ranks. She passed every lie detector, every dream surveyor, and consumed as she should. All for this. Her capture was proof that four decades of work by the Revolted Citizens had succeeded.\n\nMaria smiled. Her mouth lay numb and showed no movement, but inside, where it mattered, Maria smiled. And then she exploded.\n\nBrilliant white heat erupted from Maria’s holding van as nano-bombs exploded inside her body. The van was instantaneously disintegrated as were all seven CPOs riding in front. So too did her cohorts cease to be all over Dallas.\n\nFrom the sky electricity drones sent error message after error message to power headquarters as light outputs reached preposterously anomalous levels; each error representative of nearly a dozen CPOs being ripped to shreds and thus dissolution of the army of the Corporate Czar. In total the sky drones measured 3654 error messages within seven thousandths of a second.\n\nNear the capital building Revolted Citizens stormed from their living quarters and some from the sewers. Each wore the consumer-clothes of their position. Embroidered on the chest of each in the green and white colors of the revolution stood MARIA—each warrior’s debt to their former leader." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You are time police. It's your job to make sure history doesn't change. Your new assignment is to protect Hitler until the end of the war. You have full use of your future tech to complete the mission. Assassin's from your time line are coming back to kill Hitler early." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The ones who haven't put much thought into it are the easiest.\n\nThey 3D print a time machine, throw on military surplus energy armor, grab a cheapo lasrifle, and figure they can waltz right up to Hitler and turn him into a puff of steam.\n\nThey haven't done their research. They don't know I exist.\n\nWhen these weekend warrior types port in, my scanner picks up their imprint well before they timesynch. It's a matter of phasing to their location, waiting for them to corporealize, and bouncing them home.\n\nI send the details to my superiors, and the weekend warriors are in cuffs before they're even aware they've failed their fun little mission.\n\nThen there's the hobbyists.\n\nThese people, I've got no doubt, hang out in chat rooms online swapping tips and stories.\n\nThey know what my job is, and they've got some idea of what I'm capable of.\n\nTheir time machines are custom. They scramble their time imprints. They often timesynch before I'm even aware they're incoming.\n\nBut their gear isn't top of the line. If anything, their set-ups are awkward, the sort of thing that sounds impressive when they type it out in a chatbox, and looks imposing when they snap pics in their backyards, but that turns them into fumbling, lumbering klutzes when they go toe-to-toe with me.\n\nThink multiple grenade launchers. Think lasknives strapped to their wrists. Think nightvision worn during the day.\n\nTheir awkwardness is their saving grace. It means I can get up close and bounce them without getting hostile.\n\nThey do occasionally get within sight of Hitler, though, and when they're lugging around an arsenal, that means I've got no choice but to shoot first and bounce later.\n\nThat's what my darts are for.\n\nOne last thing I'll say about the hobbyists is that they all seem to think it's clever to go for Hitler in his crib.\n\nSo many of them came down while Mama Hitler was pushing little Adolf out that I had to mine the street around the building and spend the next few weeks ReMembering the people in the neighbourhood.\n\nThe most dangerous are the paramilitary assassins.\n\nThese individuals, as far as I can tell, are contracted by governments or wealthy organizations. They come well-trained and well-armed.\n\nIn dealing with them, I empty my arsenal.\n\nKnife fights. Sniper battles. Teleportation duels. Invisible hunts.\n\nI've had these highly charged encounters perhaps a dozen times on Hitler's behalf, and while I've never lost, there have been close calls.\n\nSome of them have had weaponry more advanced than my own. They come from decades into my own future. Fortunately though, the tech gap is never massive.\n\nPeople after the year 2300 must lose interest in Hitler.\n\nI'm not sure why.\n\nMaybe, after I complete my mission, after I return to my timeline, collect my bounty, and have a family, after a couple of decades of the good life, I'll witness World War 4. Who knows.\n\nMy mission brief states that I'm to protect Hitler's timeline. In the early days, it was clear to me that that meant protecting him from those future travelers who would do him harm. But I've been with him so long, now, that it's got a little strange.\n\nI've sutured Hitler's stab wounds. I've taken las shots for him. I've made him vomit up poisoned food.\n\nOn a more personal level, I've used my reactive camo to take on the guise of his various friends and recommended he, say, pursue painting. Later, I recommended he let painting go. At certain key moments, I've reminded him that his first art teacher, the one who said he'd never amount to much, was Jewish.\n\nAnd more than any of that, while he's been in recovery from injuries, I've mimicked his voice and given the orders that I know he gave, historically.\n\nAnd so now, while I wait with him and Eva in the Fuhrerbunker and the time is ticking away and neither of them is talking about ending it, I know that this, too, is my job.\n\nI know where Eva keeps her cyanide capsule. I know where Hitler keeps his gun." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Each birthday we get a upgrade point for life skills. Due to an error you just got 999 points" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Time to wake.” a monotonous robotic voice said in a cold stern tone. Robert rubs the crust from his eyes, struggling to focus on the large projection wall across the sterile white room. “Not another damn birth anniversary.” he mumbles.\n\nRobert lays in bed until the robotic voice again however more loudly prompts “Wake up you will be late for upgrade.”\n\nRolling off the bed, slouching as he shuffles his feet as if they were cast in cement towards the wall closest to the door with a single mirror and sink. I wonder what I am going to use my upgrade point on this year, it is a waste of time. I will never be able to match those of the social wealth.\n\nAfter the rise of technology and advancements in artificial intelligence, society had to implement a point system to allocate skill points so as there could be an equal distribution of power, intelligence, strength and other attributes. It was a novel idea adopted from antique video games and kept the majority of society equal, however the higher class citizens with influence always seemed to have higher points allocated to them, despite the rules being as they were.\n\nRobert found it hard to stay motivated, however he donned his blue janitorial jumpsuit anyways as he had 30 birth anniversaries prior, and headed down to the administration office in town. Thoughts ran through his mind, and internal debate occurred of weather he should use the point for strength this year, or intelligence. As he approached the single story admin building at the corner of his block he noticed a small line of three people standing outside. He was greeted by the same three people he saw every year as he shared the same birth anniversary with.\n\nThe line went slow, one by one each member walked into the office. A few moments would pass and next would be summoned. Finally it was Robert’s turn, “Sir please place your palm on the reader.” ordered a very intimidating looking security guard. A high pitched beep could be heard as a computer fan began to run louder under the desk that held the scanner. “Please step into the allocation booth sir.” Robert complied with the order, walking into a small booth that was four foot by four foot with a single touch screen monitor facing him directly as he walked into the booth. The door slammed behind him, as a picture of his face appeared on the screen. The next transition of the monitor is what caught him off guard and would change his life forever.\n\nThe monitor read. Credits: 999, Roberts face turned to one of puzzlement and then sheer shock. “What the hell is this?” he then realized he had spoken out loud, quite loudly in fact he looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was opening the closed door. Surely this was a mistake, he pressed the button for allotment towards his strength skill, and watched the credit ticker go to 998. No way he thought, I have enough credits for four lifetimes here. He began to debate the best method for distribution. He placed his strength to its full potential, increased his intelligence to just shy of its full potential, and used his remaining points on various other traits. The thoughts began to race in his head of revenge against all of those who had wronged him. He hit the enter button to set the changes he had made. A flash went off, the brain and thoughts went to black. Nothing was heard, felt, or seen.\n\n“The simulation is over.” A young lady in a lab coat, carrying a tablet exclaimed standing behind a man typing into a computer. “I told you given free will, and the power to choose one's own destiny, time and time again the user will overclock their abilities to that which will cause havoc on our society.” luckily this was just a simulation of the new allocation system, we need to devise a way to maintain control of the skill system, without the vulnerabilities or we are surely going to cause our own demise. The system is not ready for the people to know about yet, back to the think tank for solutions." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: A world where people purchase and own clones to do what they want with them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "NOTE: The following are all fictional characters not based on any real person. Also BDSM, very dark. Non-consent.\n\nFiona Bryars felt trapped. She had never known anything more than a slave’s life; she had been born in a cloning vat. Her position was not terribly unusual, it was estimated that 5% of the US population were now clones. Most clones were of common people who were poor and would sometimes sell a bit of their DNA to one of the major cloning corporations for just a few thousand dollars who would then turn around and sell several clones for about $100,000 each, but clones of celebrities, of the most famous members of society, they were extremely valuable. Those could sometimes be sold in the millions.\n\nFiona, or Fiona 1136 as was her official name, was told throughout her accelerated growth process that she should be proud that she was not simply a common clone, she was a celebrity clone, one of a rare line of clones sold for millions of dollars, but Fiona was not entirely sure why she should care. She would never see any of that money. The cloning company would make a very nice profit and the original Fiona Bryars would make money as well, but what did that gain Fiona 1136?\n\nThe original Fiona had taken a few hours here and there to train her small group of clones to make sure that they could all copy her mannerisms and that there were no imperfections. Any clone found to have imperfections or deviations from the original Fiona was sent off to do hard labor or other unseemly work, but the clones who really were indistinguishable from a slightly younger version of her were all sold to the highest bidders. They were then charged with serving their masters in whatever ways they requested, and failure to obey was to be met with severe consequences. There were some in society who objected to such extreme measures, but corporate interests kept it legal and pacified a majority of the population.\n\nFiona’s owner was a man named Gerald Verdun, a billionaire who did not much care to talk about his past with anyone. He was a cruel man, but also an enormous fan of Fiona Bryars. It brought him a perverse satisfaction to see a woman who he could not have in actuality be forced to clean his house like a common servant and then service him in the bedroom. Fiona 1136 sometimes wondered how the original Fiona would feel about seeing her likeness disrespected so highly, but she knew the original Fiona tried not to think of the clones as people, nor think too much about what men who were willing to spend millions of dollars would do with them.\n\nOne day, Mr. Verdun had charged her with cleaning the entire downstairs of his enormous mansion, a task which Fiona knew would take all day, but he returned home after just a few hours and asked why it was not done yet. Fiona hung her head although there was fire in her heart and she said, “I’m deeply sorry, sir. I did not have enough time to clean the entire downstairs. I promise that it will be ready by…”\n\n“Excuses excuses!” he said disgustedly cutting her off but a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “I believe that I paid extra money for the version without excuses, didn’t I?”\n\n“Yes sir,” Fiona said head still hung low.\n\nMr. Verdun walked over to the side of the couch and said, “And you know the consequences for failure, don’t you?”\n\n“Yes sir!” Fiona quickly replied. She knew it was better for her sake not to wait too long to reply. Mr. Verdun sat on the couch and waited while Fiona hiked up the skirt of her small maid uniform (from an extremely unrealistic movie featuring the original Fiona about a maid falling in love with the lord of a manor… Fiona 1136 had her doubts if a servant could really come to love a lord) and once her bottom was showing, she bent over his lap.\n\nHe raised his hand and started to rain down spanks on her bottom. Fiona always tried to take it stoically whenever he spanked her. After all, she had received painful punishments before in her clone training back before she was ready to be sold whenever she exhibited rebellion or deviated from Fiona Bryars behavior (sometimes being forced to act like Fiona Bryars and at the same time not be rebellious seemed to be a contradictory and nearly task, but Fiona 1136 knew better than to complain about that) but Mr. Verdun took pride in his work and was never rushed, even with just his hand he could always break her down eventually.\n\nAfter about 20 minutes of spanking, he broke her down into tears. She knew that she had done nothing wrong but be born a slave, but this was her lot and it was time for her to accept that. As acceptance of her situation slowly washed over her, she began to realize something. Her pussy was soaking wet, and when she wasn’t resisting it so much on the inside, a part of her was actually enjoying this abuse. She enjoyed the fact that she had no control over the fact that he could fry her bottom just using his hand and a very long, hard spanking. A part of her even enjoyed the fact that a man whom she hated was the one doing it.\n\nShe began to realize something, perhaps the original Fiona knew exactly what was happening, maybe even knowing that some part of her was being punished and abused by different men around the country got her off in some sick way. Perhaps Fiona 1136 was the natural evolution of Fiona. Fiona didn’t hate her, she loved her!\n\nFor the first time in a very long time, she felt a warmness in her heart for the woman who had put her there. Now what would the real Fiona do with this cruel Mr. Verdun? Fiona thought about it as she thanked him for the spanking and went about her cleaning duties, and as she gave him a blow job and bent over for him to fuck her ass. All of these were chores she had previously resented, but a part of her enjoyed now. Still, she hated this man and knew that the real Fiona would have to do something.\n\nThat night, she went down to the kitchen, picked out a knife, and went back upstairs to plunge it into his throat. His eyes widened as he felt stainless steel cut his windpipe and he began to writhe around in the bed, trying to stop the bleeding.\n\n“Thank-you,” Fiona 1136 said with tears in her eyes. “I hate you, but I still thank you. You made me realize who I really am. I’m not sure I could have done it without you, but now, your part in this story has ended. Good-bye, Mr. Verdun. Rot in Hell.”\n\nFiona knew that the punishment for a clone killing her master was immediate execution, but perhaps it would not come to that. Mr. Verdun was a solitary man who did much of his business on computers, perhaps Fiona could pretend he no longer desired to leave his house very often. Perhaps she could invite over the original Fiona to witness what she had done. So many possibilities lay in front of her that she didn’t even care if there were eventual consequences, she was finally happy. She cut some of her favorite fingers off of Mr. Verdun’s hand for her personal use and then happily walked away." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: After all the years of wondering why others have it so easy, you discover that you can change your life's difficulty level in the \"options screen\". Yours was set to \"hard\"." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My girlfriend just broke up with me. She told me she was \"too tired of this shit,\" and that I was \"too complicated.\" I hated her for saying it, but I couldn't argue; I knew it was true. I had gotten it from every girlfriend in high school, and now, the girl I thought was the love of my college career, gave it to me, too. I'm immune.\n\nFor as long as I can remember, my life has been simply that: complicated. At five, my parents and I got into a car accident, leaving me as an orphan; at seven I was in my fourteenth foster home; and then when I finally thought it was getting easier at thirteen, my adoptive parents turned out to be nature-worshiping hippies, who ate a diet of foods found solely in their backyard, and believed that loving anyone besides each other was a sin in the eyes of Mother Nature. This left me desperate and hungry- desperate for food and hungry for attention and affection. I eventually got a job, but even that was a pain in the ass. I turned 18 on the day I graduated high school and left for Pittsburgh, renting an apartment for the summer with the money I saved up and starting college in late August. That went okay for a while, until I met this girl, Susan. She thought I was complicated, but truth be told, I've never met a more complicated girl in my life. She wanted everything to be perfect- grades, body, plans, everything. When things didn't go her way she flared her stupid little nostrils and manipulated everyone who crossed her path. I couldn't provide her that stable perfection, and she couldn't provide me with the affection I so desperately craved.\n\nSue and I were done, which left only school for me to focus on. Until today. I had a breakdown in front of my Orgo professor...and the rest of the lecture hall. I knew there was something wrong with me, but it has never been this bad. One thing led to another and eventually I was called in by the dean of Pitt and suspended from school \"until further notice.\" He thought it would be best for me to \"take a break from life for a while.\" So I bought a train ticket and headed back to the town my parents died in. I thought I would go to City Hall and request my birth certificate, as well as my mom's and dad's death ones. The woman at the desk was weary of giving it to me, warning that what I would see is usually confidential information. I disregarded her obviously artificial care and went to the back room to claim the envelopes, then walked out to the laboratory where I planned on continuing my plan. All I had to do was take my birth certificate and put in the envelope with my parents' death certificates, then we could all be buried together tomorrow morning. It seemed convoluted to me at times- the simplistic way that one could just request death- but I supposed it was a good idea for the hopelessly depressed, like myself.\n\nI opened the envelope and figured I might as well glance at the certificate, which, to my surprise, was more of an electronic iPad looking thing than a piece of card stock. I scrolled around through the settings and applications, realizing quickly that there was a lot more involved in the birth and life of a child than I thought. Finally, I got to the \"Options Screen,\" seeing the choices: Intelligence, Profession, Passion, and Difficulty. All but the latter were grayed out, preventing me from further exploration. I tapped on Difficulty. Mine was set to hard. Nauseas but enlightened, I realized why my parents died and I had been dealt such a shitty deck of cards. They chose a hard life for me. After the initial anger and resentment towards mom and dad, I realized that they only did it for my own good. They didn't want everything to be merely handed to me; they wanted me to work. They never could have predicted their deaths or my distracted adoptive parents or my battle with mental illnesses. I couldn't stay mad. If anything, I felt refreshed. I spent so long trying to figure out why everyone around me seemed to have it so much easier, but now it all made sense. My mind raced and the room spun as the woman from the front desk came bursting through the doors, lips pursed, heels clogging, and eyes squinted. She wanted to know what was taking so long, and if I still wanted to put in that request. I told her no, and asked if I could return my parents' envelope but keep mine. She rolled her heavily mascaraed eyes, saying I should have read the manual, that of course that is what I would be doing, that that was the policy. I resealed the envelope and her cold, veiny hands snatched it back. Her snobby chin motioned to the back door and, happily, I exited. For the next two hours (in the hotel room I rented) I paced back and forth, eventually deciding that it was probably best to read the manual. Lo and behold, it is possible to change the settings.\n\nSo now I lay here, undecided with a lump in my throat. Everything sucks. There is not even a chance for me to get back into Pitt, as the dean requires suspended students to remain within a 50 mile radius of the school if they wish to return. I broke that requirement, Susan broke up with me. I don't want to die, but this twisted form of euthanasia is making me sick, as I know it is probably the best option. I know that if I just go through the next few levels of difficulty, I can go back to the beginning and have it easy. Maybe then I'll find a good job, go back to school, and settle down with a woman who actually cares about me. I know if I get to that level, I'll have money and will no longer have to worry about anything even remotely serious. But my parents- they wanted me to work hard. They didn't want me to slack off only to become rich or famous accidentally. They had a dream for me. They chose this like they chose how smart I'd be, and like they chose my brown hair and green eyes. It's a part of who I am, but I don't know if it's who I want to be." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You're a detective who solves crime by going to the crime scene and looking back in time to figure out who and how the crime happened. People in your visions shouldn't be able to see you. One day, you're looking at a murder scene when the murderer turns to you and says you're next." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There is a certain smell associated with death.\n\nA sweet, cloying scent that lingers long after the body is removed and often despite the best efforts of the cleaning crews. I wrapped my coat tighter around my body as a chill wind blew in from the apartment's open windows, another attempt to disperse the morbid aroma. I sighed, walking slowly around the small space, taking in any oddities that I could find. There was a large number of incense bowls and sticks, dotted around the room, and I idly toyed with the idea of lighting a few, seeing if jasmine could help where fresh air had failed. After a moment, i decided to go with the more traditional method and left for the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.\n\nI walked back into the room, cup in hand and took a big mouthful of the rich liquid. I didn't hold with using milk, rather a pinch of salt to bring out the flavour of the beans. I frowned slightly as I swallowed. It seems the deceased wasn't one to splurge on good quality coffee.\n\nUsually I found only a few traces of where the crime had happened, unless it was a crime of passion, in which case the perpetrator often isn't thinking about the consequences. In front of me now however was a deep, dark stain in the cream carpet. I'd read the case file and this was certainly no crime of passion, the victim was a relative recluse, a middle aged spinster. I lay my hand in the air over the brownish mark and with almost no effort felt a heavy pressure, almost pushing my fingers back.\n\n\"Well that's odd,\" I whispered to myself, taking my hand back and shaking it, as a feeling like pins and needles shot through it. \"Very odd.\"\n\nI could feel my power surging in my chest, almost like a supernatural heart burn, but stronger than I had ever felt it before. Normally I had to reach deep and claw it out of hiding to activate it but here, it was taking all my efforts to keep it contained.\n\n\"The hell...\"I muttered, a bead of sweat forming on my brow. I struggled for a moment longer. \"Well, it's why you're here Eddie.\"\n\nAs soon as i finished speaking, I also released my hold, my power flowing out of me like dogs let off the lead. The room took on a bluish hue, as if gazing at the scene through a still pond. Normally I would rewind that scene manually, as if slowly lowering an anchor into that blue until I hit the part I wished to view. Today however it froze almost immediately, the corpse of the woman now lying again on the floor, over that gory stain. My eyes were drawn to her and I felt some of the coffee rise in my throat as my brain processed what I was seeing.\n\nHer torso was essentially excavated, her ribs hanging either side of her, messily broken. A bizarrely shaped dagger lay in the cavity, its blade black through the blue sheen. A ritual murder, the file had said and the Officers I had briefly spoken to had been vague. Now i saw why.\n\n\"I didn't think i'd actually need the obscurity safeguards. How interesting.\"\n\nMy gaze snapped up to the voice. A dark figure stood over the woman, one hand outstretched and holding something up, as if they were appraising it. The voice was lighter than I had expected, feminine and the figure had long curls falling down their shoulders. I only hesitated to call them a woman due to the fact that where their face should be there was instead a distortion, like TV static floating in the air. I processed her words, wondering at their meaning, and leaned closer, trying to pierce that unusual veil that hid them. I felt an icy grip around my heart when the woman stepped back slightly, turning to face me and waving a finger in my face.\n\n\"Nuh uh honey, don't you know its rude to invade someone's personal space?\"\n\nThe woman laughed at that, a surprisingly pleasant, melodious sound, and kicked the corpse at her feet, causing the dagger to wobble from where it was embedded and fall deeper into the fleshy chasm.\n\n\"I don't recognise you,\" the woman continued and though i couldn't see them, i could feel her eyes burning into me. \"But no matter. I never forget a face.\"\n\nSweat ran into my eyes as I struggled to reign in my power, to cut the connection or rewind the scene. My attempts to control it were met by a block of force either way and i heard a faint crash as my coffee cup fell to the floor.\n\nThe woman with no face cocked her head to the side, like a dog getting the measure of another, tossing the object she held from one hand to the other. As it flew in the air briefly, i managed a better look and promptly emptied my stomach of its contents. The woman stopped her game, bringing the victim's heart up to her blurred face. When she lowered her arm again, she held out the heart to me, showing the small perfectly formed bite she had taken out of it.\n\n\"You know I had wondered where I would go from here. I was at something of a dead end. Thank you little lamb for offering yourself up to be next. I'll be seeing you very soon.\"\n\nSuddenly she vanished, taking the past with her, and leaving me panting and heaving in the present. I sank to my knees, uncaring about the mess soaking my trousers and tried vainly to get some sense of what had happened, what was happening. That heart burn feeling of my power was still active, still ringing in my chest, whether from recoil or a defense measure I didn't know. I swept my fringe from where it had become plastered to my forehead and took out my phone, scrolling through contacts, looking for options. I paused over a name, Lilly, my finger hovering over the call button.\n\nA series of three thudding knocks came at the apartment door.\n\nr/AMSWrites" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You are a superhero known for wearing a signature ring. While everyone believes it to be the source of your powers in reality it actually dampens them, allowing you to safely use your powers. Today you woke up and could not find your ring." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Wake up!”\n\n“Help me!”\n\n“If you don’t give me the money, I’ll-”\n\n“Please stop! Don’t hurt-”\n\nBrett woke up, the world was a cacophony of noises and cries for help and lights beyond what normal humans can see bombarded him.\n\nImmediately, he shut his eyes, and tried to steel himself, but explosions were happening, and he heard more than just that, the earth’s crust groaning ever slowly, and every whales’ mating calls. Every human’s thoughts and voice came crashing down on him louder and louder.\n\nStop, breathe.\n\nHe commanded himself, remembering his training. A resounding drum grew louder, but slower, as he focused on his heartbeat. The more he focused, the more the other sounds started to fade. It was a long time since he had to control his senses, ever since he had the vacuum ring, he never had to consciously control his powers.\n\nWhen he opened his eyes again, he saw a world no human had, or would ever see. Lights from every electron bombarded him as he breathed.\n\nHe didn’t actually need to breathe, but he found the act calming.\n\nHe gingerly reached for the middle finger on his right hand. The vacuum ring was gone! He cursed, not aloud for fear of demolishing the house. He focused on every muscle he had to hold himself back as he got out of bed.\n\nIf he wasn’t careful, the earth would be gone.\n\nFocusing his senses, he tried to locate the ring. In seconds, he sensed violent shockwaves vibrating through the air, as more screams followed after.\n\nBreathe, remember to do it slowly.\n\nThe last time he lost control of his powers was more than a decade ago, before he had the ring. Each day, his power would grow, and it would be harder and harder to keep it in check. Now, after a decade, he wasn’t sure how well he could keep himself in check.\n\nWith another breath, he pushed his right big toe off the ground, hoping it was enough to propel him to fly.\n\nHis building shattered, reduced to dust from the impact.\n\nWith a grimace, he was thankful that he lived in a remote enough area that there wouldn’t be any civilians. It was necessary for him to be away from people, since he didn’t know when he would get attacked.\n\nNot that anyone would dare attack him.\n\nHe tried to glide slowly, but he overshot and was around the globe in a second.\n\nDammit! As he suddenly stopped, a tsunami whipped up from the momentum, carrying across the ocean.\n\nThat’ll come after I get back the ring. This time, he just leaned forward, and was able to fly forward faster than any planes ever built. I can work with this, he thought to himself, learning to fly by leaning around like a joystick.\n\nIt took minutes for him to finally get to the source of the chaos, after overshooting the area a dozen times. There he saw his nemesis, Dead Noise, the stealthiest thief in the world flying in the skies wreaking havoc.\n\n“I’m surprised that you can still fly, Hero! This ring of yours contains so much power! I applaud you for coming to face me.”\n\nNow, how do I tell him to give me the ring without reducing him to dust? Brett, who was known as Hero, could easily just speak, but he was scared his voice might reduce the villain, and everything else in front to dust.\n\n“Nothing to say huh? Well, I think it’s time for you to retire early.” Dead Noise shot forward, firing a punch straight at Brett, whose face smiled widely like a child receiving presents on Christmas. The moment Dead Noise’s fist connected with Hero’s chest, a shockwave erupted, knocking over whatever buildings were remaining standing.\n\nInstinctively, Hero’s hand whipped forward and grabbed Dead Noise’s arm. It was too fast and he went too hard, Dead Noise was torn in two and the clouds behind him were divided. The arm he grabbed reduced to atoms.\n\nIt didn’t matter as long as he got the ring, it was-\n\nDammit! It was the wrong hand. Hero controlled himself to move slower, but Dead Noise had reached kilometers away, already regenerating from the damage done with a look of horror on his face.\n\n“How can this be? What are you? Why are you so strong?”\n\nHero stayed silent, once again waiting for Dead Noise to come at him. Instead, Dead Noise turned away and attempted to fly off.\n\n“NO! ST-” Hero shouted, and stopped himself from continuing, but it was too late.\n\nIn seconds, Dead Noise was gone.\n\nThe noise ripped through the earth, most humans in the vicinity exploded from the sound wave. The moon was just lined up and reduced to dust. A crater formed as Hero saw the ring vaporized from his words. He couldn’t believe it.\n\nAfter decades of protecting his home, it was him in the end who destroyed it." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A Christian, a Muslim and a Hindu all die. At the gates of the afterlife, they realised that nobody had even come close to getting it right." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "(Amateur here; as a way to curb my devastating addiction to...yeah.\n\nA higher authority has suggested I take up writing as a hobby)\n\n\"Sweet Arms of Vishnu!\" The South Indian woman exclaimed.\n\n\"God Save the Queen! I can't believe it!\" The protestant man yelled.\n\nThe Black Panther Member spoke, \"Yes, it seems...we were wrong?\"\n\nThe group of three found themselves in an odd room. The walls are grey, the place is a perfect square, and there are 2 doors. There lies a table in the center of the room. For some reason, the table is adorned with Weapons, Armour, and some field rations.\n\n\"Is this really the place? Where are we exactly? Last I remember I was in a pub with my mates and I had just accepted a drinking challenge from ol' Oliver.\" The English man said. The English man was a small stout man in his 30's. He has a mustache and dons a pair of spectacles.\n\n\"I don't know,\" The South Indian Woman spoke, \"There seems to be some writing on the wall though. My English isn't good can anyone read what it says?\"\n\n\"I'll check it out.\" There stood a 6 feet tall Black Panther Member complete with an afro and red beret.\n\n>\"WELCOME MY CHILDREN. IT SEEMS YOU HAVE FOLLOWED THE WRONG RELIGION IN YOUR PREVIOUS LIFE. FEAR NOT FOR I ALSO BELIEVE IN MERCY. BEFORE WE DECIDE WHICH IS THE PROPER AFTER-LIFE FOR YOU THREE. YOU MUST PROVE YOURSELF IN THE HEAT OF BATTLE. HERE WE WILL TEST YOU WITH FIRE AND ICE, BLOOD AND BILE.\"\n\nHe continued reading.\n\n>\"You must make it through this dungeon. I have provided some equipment on the table over there. At the final room rests a vicious beast that must be slain. That is, if you make it there. Don't worry too much about dying--you're already there! Dohohoho! However, if any of you do 'die' the whole team will be sent back here!\"\n\n\"Did you get all that\" The black panther man asked.\n\n\"I guess we have to work together then.\" The english man said.\n\n\"Let's exchange names! My name is Minu.\" The woman said.\n\n\"My name is Christian but my religion is Muslim!\" The black panther spoke.\n\n\"Well met lads! My name is George!\" The English man spoke.\n\n\"So what is going on?\" asked Minu.\n\n\"Yeah...Has anyone ever operated any of these weapons?\" asked George.\n\nThe three stared at the table. Many weapons lay on it. Bows, Swords, Spears, Shields, and what seems to be a magic wand of sorts. The words \"only one set of weapons per person\" is etched onto the table.\"\n\n\"I guess I'll take the bow.\" Minu said as she reached for the bow and arrows.\n\n\"Oh hell no! I know what you're thinking!\" Christian begins yelling. Minu and George just stare at him dumbfounded.\n\n\"I ain't using that spear. You see, I am an individual. I choose the power of knowledge!\" Christian grabs the book. However, the magic wand begins following the book as if they were connected.\n\nGeorge sighed. \"I guess I'll take the sword and shield then.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1400-1500 words. Prompt: Aliens invaded the humans. Humans responded, \"We'll make an example out of you\"." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "(Present Day)\n\nUpon learning that we are not in fact alone in this universe, President Obama was immediately transported in the middle of the night to a top secret bunker nearly a mile underneath ground, deep in the Appalachians. The bunker, outfitted and prepared for any attack the Secret Service was aware of, was thought to be the safest place on our planet. Nothing less for our President, right?\n\nMr. Obama and his top advisors are, as calmly as possible, discussing the situation in his office. Barrack is doing everything he can to keep his demeanor calm and cool, since that's essentially his job. Make the final say, and make everyone believe it's the right choice.\n\nAs they discuss their best option moving forward, a General's secure telephone starts to ring. Answering it after less than a second of it making any noise, Barrack hears a panicked voice coming from the other end.\n\nThe General, who has faced every danger on a battlefield from RPG's hitting his humvee in the middle of the desert to being the last man left in his squad in the middle of a foreign jungle, surrounded by Vietcong, appears nervous, almost scared it would seem.\n\n\"Hold on, Lieutenant. I'll see what everyone thinks is the best course of action.\"\n\nHe slowly sets the phone on the table, and takes a deep breath.\n\n\"The invasion seems to be about two hours out. They appear to be sending in an advanced team of just three ships. Which frankly makes me pretty nervous,\" he says in low, hoarse voice.\n\n\"There could be anything on them. We've seen thousands of them flying around our galaxy the last few days, but we have absolutely no fucking idea what the occupants are, what their weapons capabilities are, or even if our goddamned guns will kill them,\" he says, his voice picking up volume as he goes on. A slight coughing fit hits so he tries to relax.\n\n\"FUCKING AGENT ORANGE!\"\n\n\"Frank, Frank, take a breath. Glass of water, maybe,\" Barrack replies, trying to keep everyone as calm as possible, yet mentally going over the fact that his planet could be two hours away from total decimation. Yet, trying to appear calm.\n\nAs Frank takes a few sips of water and a deep breath, he goes on, \"Mr. President, I didn't get to the worst part. If our scientists are correct, they appear to headed directly to our current position.\"\n\nEveryone looks around, unsure of what to do.\n\nA lower secretary that has never spoken while the President and Frank discussing issues of military pipes up, as the wheels in his head appear to be turning especially fast.\n\n\"Mr. Obama, they must be attempting to cut the head off the snake of the human race. What better target than the leader of our free world?\"\n\n\"If this is true, Frank, let them know to get every possible fighter jet we can get ahold of to our position... And tell them we need them here yesterday.\"\n\n(The foreign space vessels are nearly there almost two hours later)\n\n\"Here they come boys! Light 'em the FUCK up!\" Shouts the pilot flying point, straight towards the aliens.\n\nThe Air Force was able to assemble 50 F-22 Raptors and 100 F-16s, but before the aliens were even in range of our human weapons, they destroyed 25 Raptors and 75 F-16s, leaving just 50 fighter jets to combat the enemy.\n\nOne second, the jets were all flying in an intercept pattern, the next, they started dropping like flies.\n\n\"Mr. Obama, there appears to be blue lasers shooting down from the sky, obliterating our aircraft,\" Frank said sullenly.\n\n\"Well, fuck. I was really hoping they hadn't evolved past swords,\" Barrack stated.\n\nAs the aliens get closer to earth, they take out nearly all the F-16s, but ten Raptors remain. Their ability to turn so tightly has kept them in the sky.\n\nNow, a futuristic dog fight is being waged right above the President's top secret bunker. Five of the Raptors converge on one of Alien crafts, sending nearly all of their missiles into it, sending it crashing into a mountain.\n\nOnly two remain. The pilots that just took one out inform the others that the Alien craft's weak spot appears to be on top.\n\nAs they duck and weave, the Aliens seem to be shooting their blue lasers from any spot on the ship. But, the Raptors take one more out as they hit it in the top with three rockets, sending it off into a field.\n\nAll that's left are two Raptors and one Alien craft.\n\nAs they zig and zag through the sky, trying anything to get above the ship long enough to lock on, one of them is hit, sending it to the ground.\n\nNow, it's a one on one dog fight waged above the mountains.\n\nThe Raptor pilot manages to get above the craft long enough to get a missile lock on the craft, sending everything he has at it.\n\nBut, as he launches all the rockets, a carefully aimed laser from the alien craft hits him right between the eyes.\n\nNow, the alien craft lands about a half mile from the secret entrance to the bunker, seemingly destroyed.\n\n\"Mr. President! The threat appears eliminated!\" Frank says, half excitedly. Happy to survive another day, but trying not to think about the destruction the aliens caused before finally being eliminated.\n\nAs he says this, a camera picks up a visual of the last downed craft. An alien crawls out, gets up walking on two legs, like a massive human, carrying something rather large that looks like a large drill.\n\nHe puts it into the ground at an angle, starts drilling, and appears to go for a ride down into the ground behind it, straight towards the bunker.\n\n\"Hey! Everyone get locked and loaded! That bastard's headed straight for us!\" Frank shouts at the Secret Service detail of 25 men.\n\nAs they spread out through three connected rooms, the drilling intensifies in noise and they hear it grinding through steel and concrete. Finally, it busts through down the hall.\n\nThe President can't see anything yet, but hears a high-pitched, blood curdling noise that seems to be the alien war cry.\n\nNext, all he hears are gun shots and the death of humans.\n\n\"Mr. Obama, you might want to grab a gun,\" Frank says.\n\nAs the men continue to shoot it with every bullet they have, it doesn't stop. In its right hand is a laser blaster, in its left, a crude looking sword that it uses to behead the men foolish enough to get within range.\n\nAs it fights towards Barrack, it continues to slow down with every bullet.\n\nFinally, it's just Frank, Barrack and the alien left. Frank unloads his shotgun full of 12-gauge slugs into its midsection, finally slowing it to a crawl. In what seems like it's last effort, it cuts Frank in half, both falling to the ground next to one another.\n\nAlone, Barrack walks up to it, as his interest is piqued.\n\nSurprised, it still breathes.\n\nReaching for its communication device that seems to have a screen, he hears a calm voice from the other end.\n\nHe kicks the device out of the alien's hand, and picks it up after kicking any weapons away also.\n\nLooking at it, he sees another alien creature on the other end.\n\nMassive, bald, extremely muscled with three eyes and a large mouth full of gruesome looking teeth.\n\nAfter it stops trying to communicate with its dying friend, it surprisingly switches to a very rough English.\n\n\"Master Ooobama,\" it slowly draws out. \"We have beeeeeeen watching your kind. For a veeeeeery long time.\" After every sentence, it makes a deep, guttural sound.\n\n\"Why didn't you just come say hi? No need to start things off with aggression,\" Barrack responds, trying to get a read on their plans.\n\n\"We haaaave seeeeeeen the way you hoooooooomans treat eeeeeach other. We waaaant no paaaart in yooooour silly wars,\" it responds. \"But weeee must kill you all, and take whaaaaat weeeeeee neeeeeeeeed.\"\n\nSlowly picking up the crude sword that is nearly as tall as him, Barrack puts it at the throat of the dying alien.\n\n\"That's the best threat you got? Come and fucking get it. SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND!\" Barrack yells as he grotesquely chops the head off the dying animal, then smashes the communication device, sealing the pact for war." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Every Saturday, the plainly-dressed man visits the same grave with a single flower and spends the day there. No one dares talk to him, because he's been coming for 300 years now. Finally, you have worked up the courage to talk to him." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Charlie kicks the pebble. It rolls and he scores another hit, a real good left-footer that sends it skittering through the dirt.\n\nIt clangs off a can. Charlie gives the can a smart rap. The can lands in the creak and floats with the fishes.\n\nCharlie bops his fishing rod on the oak trees as he tromped, an act that would have gotten his hide tanned if pa was around.\n\nThe tacklebox jingles like a maraca as it plomps into the wet dirt. Charlie crouches on his haunches and removes his favorite lure: a girly purple rattler with googly eyes.\n\nThe first fish nibbles the bate off all sneaky-like. Charlie gives a sharp tug, then a sad face when he sees the tiny section of worm still speared. The worm still wriggles even less than an inch big.\n\nCharlie wonders about that. He'd been taught in school, of course, that a big worm could regrow its head. It could even get two heads. But, a tiny worm? A worm that had been cut in three quarters? What about a ninety ten cut?\n\nCharlie does not know, but he wonders as he pierces his next worm. He sticks it first in the stomach, then wraps it around the hook like pa showed him, and sticks it near its head.\n\n\"That way, it'll never come off.\" Dad had winked, wiping the sweat from his brow.\n\nThe second fish is stupider. The hook gouges its gills. It flops on the surface, gasping in its own way.\n\nCharlie looks around. Dennis isn't here, but the urge is still there.\n\n\"Here, like this!\" Dennis had shown him.\n\nDennis hoisted his fishing rod, his caught small trout still hooked. He raised it back and slapped it on the water. Hard. The fish kind of split open, the hook ripping through its scales. A little patch of fish meat hung from the barbed hook.\n\nCharlie remembers it now. His heart races. His skin prickles. He gains the fire in his chest of pure excitement.\n\nHe hoists his fishing rod. He looks the fish in the eye. He raises it back.\n\n\"Hey-O, kid. What you up to over there?\"\n\nThe man holds a single red rose, the same color as his kerchief, which sits in a lovely pleated grey vest. Charlie flushes pink.\n\n\"Nothing, sir.\" Charlie slowly lowers the rod to a natural height, in a nonchalant, totally non guilty manner.\n\n\"Nothing?\" The man laughs. \"Why, son, it looks like you're fishing.\"\n\nCharlie blinks.\n\n\"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fishing.\"\n\n\"Catch anything good yet?\"\n\n\"Sure.\" Charlie motions to his hooked fish, still occasionally flapping.\n\n\"Do ya know how to unhook it, kid?\"\n\n\"Yeah!\" Charlie says, puffing his chest as only a challenged child can. \"I know how.\"\n\n\"Well, why haven't ya? Meats best freshly cleaned.\"\n\nCharlie flushes a deeper red. Words don't find his lips.\n\nThe man sits criss-cross, the grass bowing away from him. He sticks a thin stick in the ground. He withdraws it, then sticks in his rose.\n\n\"So, you need help?\" He motions. \"Come on, kid. Let's bone and clean it.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\" Charlie moves as though pa spoke.\n\nThe man is fast. A pile of bones sit neatly in a jigsaw puzzle formation.\n\n\"Mister?\" Charlie says.\n\n\"Yes, lad?\"\n\n\"Can I ask you something?\"\n\nThe man looks to the sky. His eyes shine.\n\n\"Sure, son. Go on.\"\n\n\"What are you doing here, sir?\"\n\nThe man looks at his rose. He looks at his hands. Tears drip into the earth.\n\n\"Just passing by, son. Just passing by.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You find a strange simmering cloth with loose strings sticking out all over it. Unbeknownst to you, it is the Fabric of Reality, and pulling any of the strings has incredible and unforeseen effects..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "We really tried. The years my husband spent in culinary school, then working his way up to executive chef at De Palma's. The long days I put in interviewing servers, and the even longer nights studying accounting and business law. In the end, it had come to nothing, but I still had to have one last look around.\n\nTwisting the key in the lock and shoving open the heavy, glass double doors of what was technically--for the next few hours at least--our very own restaurant, I breathed in the air of the large, silent dining room. Regular rows of polished black hardwood tables greeted me, covered with inverted chairs instead of place settings. The lights were off, as the electricity and gas service had already been cut off in the alley. I activated the flashlight on my phone and swept the beam left and right as I passed the greeter's station with its dark terminal and shabby, unreliable H button, then headed back into the kitchen, my shoes clicking on the hardwood floor.\n\nWhat I saw was impossible. We were too careful to have left out a stockpot on the enormous gas range, to have failed to shut off the natural gas, let alone to have left anything cooking for the four days we'd spent away, and yet...there it was. A slow bubbling sound issued from the shiny, silver metal cylinder. Peering down inside, I saw a radiant cloth, twisting and bubbling, but apparently without heat yet somehow throwing threads up toward the rim.\n\nI don't know why I did it, but I did. I grabbed the end of a thread and tugged gently, and immediately was overcome by a wave of nausea, as if the earth had decided to twist in a wholly wrong direction. I couldn't help noticing the changes. I smelled...a hint of something savory? Faint voices echoing through the long kitchen. I tasted a hint of lemongrass, and the surprise was not enough to steady me. Still grasping the thread, I lost my footing and fell toward the hard tile floor.\n\nAnd fell, and fell, and fell.\n\nHave you ever been skydiving? Do you know the feeling of wind whipping through your hair, the sensation of complete weightlessness as you simply drop? Because what I felt was completely unlike that. It was like swimming through whipped cream, tumbling through blobs of light, and finally slipping into darkness.\n\nI felt a firm hand on my shoulder and opened my eyes to the smiling face of my husband, blue eyes twinkling above a closely cropped red beard. In his other hand he held a ladle, and on his bright white chef's coat was a single drop of something orange.\n\n\"Ok,\" he said, with laughter in his voice, \"you win. I hereby swear to never again keep you up until three in the morning preparing change orders for Sysco, and all I ask in return is that you put at least thirty feet in between you and the deep fryer before taking a nap.\"\n\n\"Is..that what I was doing?\" I mused aloud. \"Making a point?\"\n\nI marveled at the sound: the chatter from the dining room mingling with the clanking of pots and pans, the rustle of cotton as Tony, our saucier, slipped past me clutching a bowl of mirepoix. It was all correct, all completely expected, and yet it grated against the dream that was rapidly slipping away. I remembered darkness. Failure. Bills.\n\n\"The thought never crossed my mind,\" my husband answered, still grinning. I kissed him on the cheek, turned on my heel, and strode out into the dining room, stuffed to bursting with laughing voices and the clinking of silverwear." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You live in a world where the phrase \"If I were in your shoes\" is taken literally such that any time you put someone else's shoes on, you inherit their circumstances. You forgot your shoes at home and have to borrow a someone else's pair." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Shit!” I said, realizing that my shoes were still at home. I liked to go barefoot around the house, but a walk in the forest required shoes, at least in my opinion. I look around at my friends.\n\n“You coming?” Gary shouted.\n\n“Yeah, be there in a minute, I’ve just got to get something,” I yelled back. I rummaged around the truck, finally stumbling upon a pair of shoes in the glovebox. They were Gary’s sneakers. God knows how they got in his truck. Then again, I’d learned over the years that his truck was basically a magicians hat. You could pull almost anything out of it.\n\n“Sup guys, what are you waiting for?” I said smiling as I ran over in Gary’s shoes. He didn’t seem to notice that they were his and I didn’t mention anything. We all started to walk into the forest, prepared to enjoy our nature walk.\n\nI’m actually not sure what it is. This is my first time doing one of these nature walks and we are out in Hawaii. So perhaps it is not a forest. Maybe a jungle or something. But the waterfall we walked by was so breathtakingly beautiful that I had a hard time taking my eyes off of it.\n\nWe all sat down near it and unpacked our lunches. I wanted to unpack mine, but my eyes kept drifting back to the amazing sight. I could feel a little of the water trickle on my face if I turned it to the side. Slowly, much slower than my friends, I unpacked my sandwich and took a bite. My head kept turning back, wanting to feel the trickle of the waterfall in my cheek.\n\n“Step on a crack, break your mother’s back!” Betty yelled as I stood on a cracked piece of ground, trying to get nearer the waterfall. The closer I got, the longer I was near it, the less awestruck I was. My foot immediately shot back from the crack before I realized how silly I was being. I put it back on the crack in the dirt, only to feel too nervous and jerk it back again.\n\n“Whoa, what’s your problem dude?” Allen asked, noticing my sudden fear of the crack.\n\n“Nothing,” I responded, forcing my foot to stay on the crack. Every moment it was there I feared that the myth was true, that my mother’s back was perpetually breaking over and over again. But in order not to be embarrassed, I kept it there. After a few seconds, what seemed like a reasonable amount of time to stand there, I walked only a couple inches forward. I made sure to do so very casually, and only so much so that it seemed like I was more interested in the waterfall, when in reality I desperately wanted to not be standing on that crack.\n\nAs we walked away, prepared to finish the second half of our nature walk, my head kept turning back, trying to catch one last glimpse of the waterfall. I kept thinking that if I wasn’t looking at it as it finally went out of sight, we would somehow all end up murdered by some crazy psychopathic ghost that haunted the area. I knew how stupid that sounded too, and I tried to keep my eyes focussed forward, but it would gnaw at me until I could take no more. My head would jerk back, only ever so slightly so as not to arouse suspicion from my friends, and my fear would be assuaged, if not only until I had to turn back to keep my eyes on the path ahead.\n\nFinally we had finished the walk and were back at the truck. Gary wanted to do something, but I said I just wanted to go back to the truck, so he and my other friends ran back into the forest. I walked back to the truck, sat down, and started to untie my shoes. But when I let one lace flop to the ground, I had to lift the other lace on the same shoe and let it flop likewise. And doing that made me feel uncomfortable, at least until I flopped the other lace. And then the cycle would repeat. I sat there for a few minutes doing this until I grew tired of it, until I wanted to pull my hair out, and finally I just kicked the untied shoes off of my feet.\n\nRelief flooded through my mind as Gary led the pack of friends back to the truck. I put his shoes back in the glovebox. He hopped in the car, not saying anything. I’m not even sure he had noticed that I had his shoes on at any point, much less having put them back in the glovebox just now.\n\n“You should have borrowed Betty’s shoes,” Gary told me as he dropped me off at my house. I was the last of our friends to leave the truck.\n\n“But she’s a woman,” I replied. Apparently he had realized I borrowed his shoes. But he didn’t seem pissed or anything.\n\n“Yeah, but she was hopped up on Ecstasy apparently today,” he replied. “All the fun, none of the risks to your health.”\n\n“Oh,” I said as I hopped out of the truck and slammed the door. He rolled down the passenger side window.\n\n“Don’t tell anyone, okay?” he asked me. “I don’t want them all feeling sorry for me, having OCD and whatnot.”\n\n“My lips are sealed,” I answered. “How do you do it?”\n\n“Sometimes I don’t,” Gary replied. “Sometimes I don’t. But I’m pretty good at hiding it out in public. There’s a reason you don’t see me at many of these things like we did today.”\n\nI watched as Gary drove away, a somber smile on his face. I never even knew.\n\n-360" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: Tom and Kat have been roommates for a few weeks now. Tom has a girlfriend, but he’s noticed how Kat has been walking around with just a towel on or just a pair of booty shorts and a bra on..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Tom and Kat were roommates in an off campus apartment. They were both 23 and both started college the same year. Because they went to the same university, they decided to split an apartment to make rent cheaper. This sort of arrangement wouldn't have happened if the two weren't childhood best friends.\n\nThey had been friends since the womb, and were thick as thieves all the way from pre k to graduation. They were always strictly platonic, and they never even brought up wanting anything else with each other. They were the type of friends who had coed sleepovers, even though neither of their parents would ok that with any other friend.\n\nIt caught Tom off guard when Kat started to wear less and less clothing around the apartment. He tried to be considerate about it, but it was starting to bother him, especially because he had started seeing someone.\n\nWhen he decided to first have Sara over, he talked it over with Kat. He asked if she could go out with some friends that night, and put her womanly items away into her room so Sara wouldn't accuse him of being a philanderer. Even at that, he had to convince Sara he had a gay man as a roommate to explain some missed items like shampoo, eyeliner and various pink items. Kat seemed like it didn't bother her that he was basically kicking her out, so he was glad she didn't take offence.\n\nOne night, Tom decided to confront Kat about her new habits.\n\n\"Kat, uh, can we talk?\" he asked her, sitting on the couch.\n\n\"Sure thing,\" she responded, plopping herself down on the couch next to him in nothing but her bra and sweatpants.\n\n\"Look, um, I don't want to be pushy, but I don't think you should walk around dressed like that anymore. I'm seeing Sara now, and it kind of feels disrespectful to her,\" he explained, trying not to sound rude.\n\n\"Ah, ok. Do you know what I find disrespectful?\" she asked, her tone getting louder. \"I think it's pretty disrespectful kicking me out of my damn apartment to spend time with her!\" She practically started yelling.\n\nTom was taken aback, \"I'm sorry, I didn't reali…\"\n\n\"Do you know how long is been fucking trying? You refuse to take a Goddamn hint!\" She was getting mad now.\n\nTom just looked, speechless.\n\n\"See? How obvious can I make it? You started having her around, so you obviously don't get it! So I thought, 'Fuck it, I'll just keep removing clothes 'till it gets through his head!'\"\n\nTom was so confused, \"What do yo…\"\n\n\"Do I have to spell it out? I want you to fuck me Tom! F. U. C. K. I can't make it any clearer than that. Years, Tom, literal years! Like hell I'm going to let that bitch steal you away from me after all that!\"\n\nTom was in shock. He just sat there, trying to process it all. Before he realized it, Kat jumped onto his lap and kissed him fiercely. He almost tried to fight it, but instead let it happen.\n\nShe pulled her head away, tears coming from her eyes. \"Please, Tom, I love you. I thought living together would let me build up the courage to confront you about it, but…\"\n\nHer tears became sobs and she pulled herself close to him, crying into his shoulder. He couldn't think anymore, his mind was overwhelmed, so he just reflexively embraced her crying form." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You started a cult to get out of jury duty, now people are starting to take it a bit to seriously." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It seemed like such a simple plan. I start my own religion, and then use it as an excuse to get out of jury duty. I worked out the basics on paper and then made a website to make it look legit. When I got called in, I told them I couldn’t serve on a jury because it was against my religion, that only the goddess Themis could pass judgment over mortal actions. I could tell they weren’t buying it but it got me out of it anyway. Probably thought I was a nut case.\n\nI didn’t give it much through after that.\n\nThat is, until I heard about it on the news. It had been a year since I’d made that website, give it take. I honestly didn’t remember when I had started the darn thing. Websites are so cheap and easy these days that I had barely had to put any thought into it. It caught my attention, though, on my way into work.\n\n“… caught the man responsible for the slayings. His identity has yet to be released, but he appears to be a religious fanatic, a follower of a cult known as Themisism. He says his actions can only be judged by…”\n\nHad I heard that right?\n\nI got into work and went online to look it up. Sure enough the man stood accused of killing five people, and claimed he was passing divine judgement upon them as per the tenants of his beliefs. The beliefs, he claimed, that were taught to him by my made up religion.\n\nWas that website even still up?\n\nI went to check it out and… oh boy was it.\n\nThe number of visitors had skyrocketed from the five hundred fake ones I’d made up to give it believability to over a million. The discussion forums had grown out of control, too. Riddled with spam bots but also hundreds of real users discussing their beliefs.\n\nThe general consensus was that the man, the accused murderer, was in the wrong, but some people disagreed. Some said he was enacting the will of Themis. There was much disagreement, and a genera call for intervention from the High Priest of Themis.\n\nThat would be me.\n\nThe cops wanted to talk to me too, it seemed, and we’re trying to find out who I was. None of my followers had met me, though some claimed to have spoken to me in dreams. My very absence was seen as a sign of great wisdom, for I was giving them the freedom to explore their own path. How had they read so far into this? How had hey even found out about Themisism in the first place?\n\nSomething had to be done, though.\n\nI went onto the forums and took action. I purged the obvious bot accounts, cleaned up the son, and announced my presence. Having control of the website, it was easy enough to prove I was the real deal, and I was immediately hit with messages of praise and adoration for my good work. What exactly had they thought I’d done? This has all gotten way out of hand.\n\nFor some reason I agreed to show up to the next meeting. Which, I mean, was news to me that we were even having meetings. It was local, and the followers I’d gathered from across the country were even flying in for the occasion. I didn’t know what I was going to tell them through. Sorry, your beliefs are a joke, my bad?\n\nI arrived at the meeting and joined the crowd, keeping a low profile with my Covid mask on while I listened. Who was this mysterious leader? Why had he stayed hidden for so long? Was he here to guide us? Jeez, what had I gotten myself into. I was about ready to make a run for it when I heard an argument start between a man who thought the murderer was right and some cops that had shown up. This was going to get out of control quick. I had to do something.\n\nI walked up on stage and took off my mask. I was trying to figure out how to get their attention, what to say, frozen in awkward fear as I was, when the crowd slowly began to take notice of me and quiet down, hushing each other into an awed silence.\n\n“Themis bless you.” I said. Shit. What now?\n\n“Themis bless you.” The crowd replied in unison.\n\n“It’s him, it’s really him”\n\n“The high priest has appeared!”\n\n“What is he going to say?”\n\n“Hush!”\n\nI could see the cops in the back ready to come forward, but afraid to confront the crowd, at least a hundred strong, maybe closer to a hundred fifty. I think one of them was calling for backup." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: At your wife’s deathbed, the Grim Reaper gives you a choice: he will spare her... but all memories of you will be erased from her. Today, you attend her wedding with another man." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The wedding was tonight. Checking his watch he saw that he had 4 minutes before the woman got home from work. He had broke into her home earlier that day and unlocked a back window. The woman was unbearably punctual. She lived alone with 1 cat and a pet tarantula. Who the fuck has a pet tarantula? The neighbors were gone on vacation and she lived far enough away from the city that the only cars he need worry about was the post. That came 45 minutes ago, so he was in the clear.\n\nWatching as her car pulled up he crouched down in the woods across from her home. He had been watching her for weeks. He knew her routine like the back of his hand. She pulled the car in the drive, walked into the house. 3 minutes later she would let the cat out and then go to feed her tarantula before getting in the shower.\n\nRight on schedule she let the cat out. He waited 5 minutes before making his way to the back of her house and slipping through the window he had left open. He heard the shower going in the other room and quietly made his way towards the noise. He had his gun loaded and a knife on his belt. His heart was racing. Hearing her get out, he waited in the corner for her to step into the room. The bathroom door opened and she stepped out with a towel wrapped around her waste and another wrapped around her head.\n\n\"Don't. Move.\"\n\nThe woman screamed at the voice coming from the corner. She whipped around to see a figure in all black with a ski mask over his face pointing a gun directly at her.\n\n\"Stop screaming or i'll cut your tongue out!\"\n\nThe woman began quietly crying. She began begging him to take whatever he wanted and leave.\n\n\"I'll leave when my business is finished. I need to have a meeting and you're going to help me get it.\"\n\n\"I-I don't understand. I'm a school teacher. I don't know anybody.\"\n\n\"SHUT UP! Stay quiet and stay on the bed.\"\n\nThrowing her a zip tie he told her to tie her hands together in front of her, watching to make sure she pulled it as tight as she could.\n\n\"I can't pull any tighter\"\n\n\"Use your teeth.\"\n\nCrying harder the woman used her teeth to tighten the ties around her wrists.\n\nReaching into his bag the man grabbed a few bells with the clapper taped to the side.\n\n\"Lay face down on the bed.\"\n\nTurning over the woman had her arms underneath her and her face looking sideways on the bed. Untaping the bells he began setting them on the womans back and on the bed.\n\n\"If I hear a single sound from these bells, I'm going start cutting pieces off of you.\"\n\nThe woman was pleading for him to leave. He pulled a book out and began reciting a verse in a strange language. When he finished, the last sound the woman heard was a gun cocking.\n\n\"I see you've been rather busy since we last spoke.\"\n\n\"I want a new deal. This isn't what I wanted. You tricked me.\"\n\n\"I gave you exactly what you wanted. It isn't my fault you couldn't win back her affections.\"\n\n\"You changed her! She fell for the other man. I don't know what you did but I know it was you.\"\n\nLaughing the grim reaper sat next to the dead woman. \"What were you going to do? Keep killing people until I felt a debt to you because of all the business you're sending my way?\"\n\n\"No, but I have a proposition for you.\"\n\n\"Go on..\"\n\n\"I hear that you enjoy a death more if the person suffers beforehand. Is this true?\"\n\nSmiling coldy the Reaper said, \"Yes.\"\n\nI will offer you a tortured soul, the likes of which you have never experienced. If I do this, will you return her memories so she will come back to me?\"\n\nStanding up the Reaper turned away from the man. A smile that unleashed hell itself was forming on his face. Calming down he turned to the man and said, \"Should you give me what you say, a tortured soul unlike any before, yes, I shall return your wifes memories. If I may ask, who is the unlucky participant?\"\n\n\"I think you know. I've got a wedding to crash.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Balls the size of Breasts" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I hesitate, fingers hovering above the keyboard. Maybe online dating isn't for me after all. I consider closing Skype, walking away for a while, maybe forever.\n\n\"Well? How's your equipment?\"\n\nShe had suggested a game where we got to take turns asking questions. It had started out innocent enough, and I was the one to make it sexual. I regretted it. Well, I thought, she'd find out sooner or later. I bit the bullet and typed a reply.\n\n\"I'm pretty well hung.\"\n\n\"I want to know about all the equipment\"\n\n\"I'm... well, I'm stacked.\"\n\nThere was a long pause. The message box read 'SquirrelTree is typing', then there was nothing. A longer pause.\n\n\"How big are we talking?\"\n\nI groan. Here comes the no thanks not interested. \"9 1/2 inches. F cups.\"\n\nNothing. Nothing for a long time. Dammit. My heart falls and I type slowly. \"There's no need to ghost. If you're not interested I understand.\"\n\n\"No. It's ok. I just... I'm surprises is all.\" She types. The next message is quick. \"I'm still interested. Are we still good for tonight? I promise I won't ghost you.\"\n\nI look at the clock. Reservations in two hours. I sent her a kissy face and signed off, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time.\n\nI took my time getting ready, shaved my face, hopped in the shower and shaved my balls. It was a chore, honestly, but I thought they looked better when they were bald.\n\nI toweled off, and picked my outfit. Bra first. I couldn't have them flopping everywhere, after all. Not at that size. The guys with the A cups had it easy. Not me. I couldn't even get away with the jock strap model, too much weight. The contraption looped over my shoulders and around my waste to support the girth of my colossal testicles. It looked dumb, but it was comfortable. And modest.\n\nA dress shirt would be nice, black. And for the skirt? I briefly considered something long, but I felt myself stiffen briefly by a thought. I would be going risque.\n\nI drove my pickup to the restaurant, a young man in a valet uniform took my keys. He wore the red shirt and skirt typical for this kind of place.\n\nThe hostess greets me with a smile. She's cute, a little brunette with a modest figure. Her blouse and slacks matched the decor, and I saw her look me up and down. I couldn't blame her.\n\nGood hair, square jaw, sharp shirt and a kilt. I looked around. Most of the men here wore some kind of kilt or skirt, but I wore a traditional plaid. Eye catching.\n\nI gave her my name and was promptly led to a booth. I was looking over the wine list when my date slid in across from me. I looked up, and she took my breath away.\n\nHer green eyes sparkled like gemstones, and her face was framed by a gentle tumble of auburn hair. She was slender, svelte, but... She curved in the right places. Ok, she had some great boobs, on display with the red dress she wore.\n\nWe hit it off. She was beautiful, a great conversationalist. When the waiter came, he wore shirt and slacks. I glanced. Ugh, his balls were far too big for those, where the legs of his slacks met, which was nearly halfway to his knees already, still bulged from the weight of his nuts. He took our order with a smile and left, walking a little bow legged.\n\n\"No, he cant pull slacks off\" she said, and I was surprised by the feeling of a bare foot sliding up my thigh, in between my legs and just touching my boys. \"I don't think you could, either.\"\n\nDinner couldn't be over fast enough after that, and we drove back to my place. I gave her the tour, and she laid down on my bed, head propped up on one arm. \"I want to see them.\" She said.\n\nI excused myself for a moment, stripped out of my shirt and bra and left the kilt on. I came back out feeling confident. She was breathing hard as I walked over to her, laid down beside her. Her hand went to the kilt, and I stopped it, holding her wrist gently. \"Not yet\" and kissed her.\n\nShe kissed me back, with a passion that startled me. She pressed into me, her hands on my neck and back, her tongue on mine. I touched her breasts, gently at first but at the first brush she had bared them, and pushed my hand harder into them. Staci liked it rough, evidently.\n\nMy dick got hard, and I pivoted my hips away from her, letting it do it's job. When it was at full mast, i told her she could look.\n\nMy cock raised the bottom of the kilt, exposing my balls, bigger than her tits. She sat up, one breast falling back inside the dress and stared.\n\nShe on them in an instant. With both hands she lifted them, licked them, ran her tongue along the 10 or so inches of the crease, and then up the shaft of my dick. She took me into her mouth, her tongue working down the shaft for a moment, then back out and buried her face in my balls. I was in heaven.\n\nShe hiked her own skirt and straddled my face, working my cock with her mouth while caressing my balls with her hands. Her pussy tasted amazing, and was so wet she dripped onto my chin. She came with a shudder, and shouted at me \"I need it!\"\n\nNext thing I knew, she was on all fours, her sweet pussy waiting, eager. I obliged, sliding my cock into her.\n\nShe bucked against me, once, and again harder \"fuck me! Please!\" I obliged, and rammed into her. And instant later my balls slapped against her, rocking her forward even further. She moaned \"yes\" and bucked into me again.\n\nWe fucked, her pussy accepting my cock and my balls slamming into her. She was so wet, so tight, so eager. I couldn't help myself. \"I'm gonna cum\", I warned her.\n\nShe nodded and slid forward, turned around to face me and leaned back. I understood, and came closer as she stroked my cock, taking the tip in her mouth as I came close.\n\nThe first wave hit, and a foot long string of white cum shot out, slapping into the headboard behind her. The second came, even longer and splattered on her face, most of it in her mouth. Again and again I came, for nearly a full minute as my balls drained, contraction by contraction.\n\nWhen it was over, she was covered. She looked like a glazed donut. The sheets were soaked. The headboard and wall behind it had gotten plenty. She gripped the my cock with a smile, licking it clean. \"That was incredible. But I think my thighs are going to be bruised.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You desperately struggle against the cage while your girlfriend sinks to her knees , her body having been pierced by four large bolts. As the group that captured you emerged from the darkness, she smiles at you and says : \" Sorry if I scare you. \" , as her arms take on a more monstrous form." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My throat felt awfully dry as I woke. Instinctively I reached for the waterskin on my beside cabinet. But instead of the familiar squashy skin, I felt cold, hard metal. I bleary opened my eyes, confused. I was in a cage, as if I were an animal. Why?\n\nI thought back, my mind feeling fuzzy and weak. I remembered going out drinking, tired from the days work. I wanted the smell of musty cloth gone. I went to the tavern, and met up with a few drinking buddies. From there.... I was going to see Aroa. But it all went dark before then.\n\n\"He's awake.\"\n\nI turned my head. I could see a couple of silhouettes looking down at me. A lantern lit them from behind, casting their features in shadow. But just from their outline, they looked like they could handle themselves. I could easily make out scabbards at their sides, with hilts sticking from them.\n\n\"Wha... what are you doing? What do you want with me?\"\n\nThey let out a barking laugh.\n\n\"We don't want you. We want your girlfriend. And you just happened to be the best bait. Now, why don't you go ahead and scream for us. Call her in. Make it easy for us.\"\n\nI felt cold at their words. They wanted Aroa. I wouldn't let them. I summoned what little spit I had, aiming for their faces.\n\n\"Go to hell.\"\n\nThey laughed again.\n\n\"Thats the spirit. Let's see how long you can keep it up for!\"\n\nThe one who was speaking drew his sword. I tried to crawl back, but the cage was too small to escape. He casually swung, cutting through my upper arm. I hissed, biting my tongue against the pain. I was a tailor, not a soldier. I wasn't used to this. But I wouldn't betray Aroa.\n\n\"Defiant one aren't you?\"\n\nHe stabbed this time, piercing my foot. It took my breath away. I held my bleeding foot, tears springing to my eyes.\n\n\"Scream, or it'll get worse.\"\n\nI shook my head. I wouldn't. He laughed, before lunging at my hands. His meaty paw enveloped one of mine, and he began to squeeze. I felt my bones grinding together, before one cracked. I couldnt help it. I cried out at that.\n\n\"Aaaggghhh!\"\n\nHe released me, and I held it to my chest, sobbing. I wanted to throw up from it.\n\n\"Good. She'll have heard that. Now you just sit there, and we will deal with her.\"\n\nThey stepped away. I closed my eyes, rocking back and forth slightly. I couldn't hear anything besides my own crying. I was alone, in pain. Aroa was going to be hunted down. It was all my fault. But why they wanted her, I had no idea.\n\n\"Ulin! What's happened?\"\n\nI heard the voice I was so familiar with. I looked to see Aroa approaching, her pale skin glowing in the lantern light. Her face was filled with concern as she ran up.\n\n\"A-aroa! Get away!\"\n\nShe ignored me, grabbing the door to the cage.\n\n\"I'm going to get you out, ok? I'm not leaving you here.\"\n\n\"Aroa, please, there's men who want to-\"\n\nThere was a series of twangs. Aroa arched her back, before falling to her knees. To my horror, four large bolts stuck from her. I clawed at the door, trying to get out, ignoring the pain I was in. That horrid barking laugh sounded, as the two men, plus two others stepped closer, holding crossbows.\n\nAroa looked up at me, and gave me the smile I fell in love with.\n\n\"Ulin, I'm sorry if this scares you. But I will get you out.\"\n\nHer skin darkened, as if absorbing the night. Her arms grew shiny, before cracking. What was once soft skin was now a hardened carapace. The sides of her shirt buldged, before 2 more arms sprouted. They were made of the same black carapace, ending in brutal looking claws.\n\nHer hair rippled, dropping over her face. It laid against her skin, before hardening as well. Eight small slits formed, below which a larger crack formed. The slits glowed red, and a wheezing sound came from her throat.\n\nAll of a sudden, she was gone from in front of me. A gurgling told me where she was, as on of the men slumped forwards. His throat was torn opened, blood sheeting down his chest. His hands gripped at the wound helplessly.\n\nFrom behind him, she spat. A ball of thick green flew across, hitting the man opposite her. He let out a scream as his skin began to melt off. He dropped to the ground, writhing as he tried to wipe it off, succeeding only in spreading it to his hands.\n\nAroa disappeared again, before reappearing in front of one of the others. She clawed at him, opening up his chest to the cool night air. His insides spilled out, steaming as they fell to the ground. He useless tried to pull them back in, before his eyes rolled up in his head, and he fell in his own pile of organs.\n\nThe last one ran, casting aside his crossbow. I lost sight of him and Aroa, before hearing a cry that was cut short. The night fell silent, before I heard footsteps. Aroa appeared, her carapace fading away, and her hair moving from her face. She looked for all the world like the merchant daughter that was my girlfriend, instead of some sort of monster.\n\n\"I'm sorry Ulin! I know you must have questions, but let's get you out of there first.\"\n\nShe held up a key, before fitting it in the lock. It clicked, and the door opened. She pulled me from the cage, hooking my good arm around her shoulder and lifting me up. I leaned against her, and somewhere found the courage to ask the big question.\n\n\"What are you?\"\n\n\"The cats out of the bag now huh? I'm half-demon. There's a reason you never met my mother.\"\n\n\"Oh...\"\n\nThe ground seemed to lurch beneath me. My worldview was collapsing around me. The shock of everything caught up with me, and I found myself spiralling to unconsciousness. As I fell, I was dimly aware of being picked up, and carried away." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: the muggle parents of a hogwash student get attacked by death eaters. Little do the death eaters know the parents are from america... and they have GUNS." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They had expected some resistance. Pleading, that sort of thing. Certainly not an 8 year old with a grenade launcher.\n\nDave had been an unassuming muggle born in his first year. It had taken him quite some time to get used to his classmates odd ways. It was difficult to find common ground for a time, him being new to magic, they having no knowledge of farm life in Kentucky. So, being a studious child, he had focused on his craft. Over the years House Ravenclaw had become his second home and in his senior year he had really found himself. Life at Hogwarts had treated him well. He graduated with top marks and was looking forward to a career at the ministry of magic.\n\nThe graduation party had thrown a bit of a spanner in the works. A few too many dragon barrel brandies at the Hog's Head Inn resulted in him accidentally walking into a Slytherin from his year. The boy had grabbed for his wand in anger, but old-fashioned country methods were faster in the busy Inn. Dave's fist connected with the boy's nose, breaking it in the process. They had been kicked out and the next morning Dave flew back to Kentucky to spend the summer with his parents. He had all but forgotten the incident until the Dark Mark appeared in the sky.\n\n'Dad! Raise the alarm!' Dave yelled out.\n\nWithin minutes five young death eaters landed on Dave's parents yard. Dave, his parents and his six siblings were waiting for them. Casually holding what to the trained wizard eye would appear to be at least half an arsenal. Ever since finding out his eldest was a wizard during a family holiday in Scotland, Mike MacCraw had prepared himself and his family for trouble finding his doorstep one day. Dave had been a little surprised to find that his dad owned enough legal and illegal arms to overthrow a small nation. But not quite as surprised as when his baby sister demanded the grenade launcher and loaded it with ease.\n\n'Hand over the freak and you won't be hurt!' the boy with the broken nose yelled.\n\n'We shoot trespassers here in these parts!' Mike shouted back. He followed that up with 'Now get off my property!' as he raised his gun, feeling like both a moviestar and a bad rendition of a movie country bumpkin.\n\nThe death eaters raised their wands, this certainly didn't go as planned. Dave quickly erected a mound in between the groups and soon shots were fired from both sides.\n\nWithin a minute the first pickups started to arrive, neighbor's with guns had responded to the alarm and immediately opened fire on the death eaters from behind. A near classic pincer move had the death eaters outnumbered and outgunned. Turns out casting offensively gets a lot harder when also casting shields against a Gatling gun. Two death eaters got hit, and suddenly they all apparated and the battle was over.\n\n'Well, I suppose that's you being welcomed back to the neighborhood hey Ameli...uh...Dave, I mean'. One of the neighbors said. 'Sorry, your dad told me, my bad. It's good to have you back home son.' Mr. Williams smiled sheepishly, bothered that he had misspoken in the moment.\n\n'I am glad to be home too, Mr. Williams' Dave said with a warm tone. 'And thank you for getting here so quickly, it is good to be back'.\n\n'We take care of our own here' said Mr. Williams, 'And I think it's time you start calling me Frank, you being a grown man and all'.\n\n(Edit: clarity)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: As a vampire you have been living happily in a castle among your cult of vampire friends, until one day you discover you have a reflection." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There are no mirrors in a vampire's castle for a mirror reveals the true condition of vampirism. It is not an elevated existence but a lower one. A lack of humanity, a lack of free will, a lack of a soul.\n\n...\n\nA village lay broken behind him, ravaged by his pets and minions. Blood ran across the ground but chilled quickly in the winter air. He walked along, unafraid of the frozen waters of the nearby lake. The moon was setting and he would return soon to his brethren and to the lonely castle deep in the mountains, but he stilled abruptly in his restless walking, transfixed.\n\nThere was a figure in the lake. He couldn't see it very clearly, just the suggestion of dark hair and tattered clothes. He blinked and it vanished. A long forgotten muscle twitched inside his chest. He felt the moon shift further and turned away, leaping into the night.\n\nHe could have ignored it, if he hadn't seen it again.\n\nThere was a girl that wandered from the village, some halfwit, deformed creature who transported tributes to the castle from the hapless villagers. She was shunned by the villagers and mocked by those who lived in the castle.\n\nHe saw her as she rode up to the gates of the castle one cloudy day. There were stains on her clothes from rotten food and she was unsmiling for once in a long time. His chest twitched uncomfortably. His pupils dilated as an unreasonable anger entered him.\n\nHe blinked and found himself breathing in iron. The girl's lifeless form slumped to the steps and he looked into her dead, empty eyes and saw a pale, strange face with dark eyes. He jumped back as if burnt, feeling the contours of his face with his hands.\n\nA new thought wormed its way into his psyche, the first new thought in a long time apart from the blood and the moon. He flew down to the village via the shadows, appearing at its outskirts. The watchman at the gate started at his appearance, gibbering in fear.\n\n\"I want a mirror.\" he told the frightened man, patting him once on the head, \"Get me a mirror. Now.\"\n\nA mirror was procured for him quickly, a large, flat basin used by one of the richer families. The villagers who were about in the town vanished quickly. There was a loud clang as the local priest locked himself up inside his church. He sat down in the empty village square, crossing his legs. He peered into the polished, bronze basin, drinking in the sight before him.\n\nThe face was unfamiliar. He thought he should have recognized it somehow. He should have been able to put a name to it. He couldn't. The bronze basin crumpled in his hands and he tossed it aside carelessly.\n\nHe flew back to the castle and down a chute into the cellar. He kicked the few coffins lying about carelessly and waited for their inhabitants to rise. He grabbed the first riser by the neck and slammed him into the wall.\n\n\"You. What is my name?\"\n\n\"Youu arree Masterr.\" the creature gibbered, simpering. \"We obey!\"\n\n\"We obey!\" echoed his other servants. He thought on this for a moment.\n\n\"No.\" he said, \"That's not my name.\" he looked around at the coffins and an idea came to him. He went deeper into the cellar, climbing down an entrance into the catacombs beneath and even further still until he came to a dark, ornately carved tomb. The name written thereon was too faded to read. \"I have a name. I remember...\"\n\nWhat did he remember? It was almost there, for a fleeting moment. Strange thoughts were bubbling inside him for the first time in a long time. His chest twitched again, a frightening feeling stealing inside his veins.\n\nHe frowned, remembering the village he had just visited. The priest...he was the same. Yes, that was what he remembered. The priest was the same man, from all those years ago, from that time when he had cast off...\n\nHe couldn't remember what he had cast off. He needed to see the priest.\n\nThe priest was waiting for him at the steps of the parish by the time he returned, wearing a necklace of garlic. A small brazier filled with holy water sat by his knee.\n\n\"You know what I am here for.\" he snarled at the priest.\n\nThe priest nodded, oddly serene. \"Yes, Count.\"\n\n\"How?\"\n\n\"Have you ever wondered why there are so few vampires on the face of this good earth?\" the priest asked him, \"They are faster and stronger than humans and with each bite their numbers grow...yet eventually all of them succumb to the same fate, realizing the true nature of their existence.\"\n\nHe sneered at the priest, \"And that is?\"\n\n\"That they are nothing more than beasts.\" the priest told him calmly, \"You seek me now because you remember, if briefly, how much you have forgotten. You think there is some way for me to give back to you what you have lost.\"\n\n\"There must be something!\" he growled, stepping forward only to hesitate as the priest placed a hand on the edge of the brazier. \"Anything. I can't go on like this. Not even the blood will do!\"\n\n\"I am sorry for you.\" the priest said, \"There is only one comfort I can offer and that is the peace of oblivion.\"\n\n\"I refuse!\" he growled, sinking into the shadows once more. \"What a foolish notion!\" In his rage, he reappeared in the cellar and drank of his servants until he sank into a drunken sleep.\n\nThe priest sat on the steps of his church, and shook his head once. \"So he begins again.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: After a genie serves 1000 masters and gives 3000 successful wishes, they are visited by the master genie and are given one wish. To this day only one genie has accomplished this task and received this fabled wish." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My first time writing here. Any criticism is welcome :) Turned out a bit longer than i expected too.\n\nGenie lamps have always been hard to find. ‘Hard to find’ would be an understatement honestly. Once a genie granted all three wishes, it retreats into its shell, and turns to smoke that is whisked away by the wind; to be carried away into any of the corners of the world. Only for another human in need to magically come across it and make the next three wishes. Genie are tortured souls forced to do the bidding of whoever finds them. And Fate brings genie to only the most desperate beings.\n\nOnce it was a rhino wishing to end its misery after having its tusk brutally amputated and stolen by some humans. Another time it was a man who had lost everything in his gambling addiction. He had wished for an extraordinary amount of wealth only to gamble it all away again and he ended up wishing for the genie to kill him. Every single master the genie had was someone who needed help, someone who the world had turned its back to. So much pain everywhere, and all the genie could do was to follow the demented orders of these hurt souls without having the authority to help them.\n\nThe genie was tired. So bone tired. It had lived for so long that you couldn’t really say it was ‘living’ anymore. It was only a flickering consciousness that sustained its ethereal being. But there was a ray of hope even for one as tortured as a genie. Legends, long before its existence, had it that if a genie could serve 1000 masters and serve all their 3000 wishes, they would be given the ultimate prize.\n\nA lone wish for themselves.\n\nNo genie had ever succeeded in this task. All the ones before this one had been worn out by the pain of our corporeal world. Their delicate essences corroded by the stench and corruption of ours. This genie though, had held on to that thread of hope dangling almost within its grasp.\n\nIt was on its 999th master now. Even in its fading consciousness, he could feel something different about this one. Maybe it was one of those cruel jokes Fate liked to play on it. Whatever it was, he saw a spark of good in this man, and in turn, humanity. For his final wish, the man wished that the genie would be free from its misery. That it be no longer shackled to the confines of its shell. While it was a noble wish, it was pointless since that was the 3000th wish that would free the genie anyway.\n\nNonetheless, the wish was granted. Before it left, it wanted to know the name of the creature who had spent a priceless wish in wishing for another’s freedom.\n\n“Alladin”, he replied. What a nice name, the genie thought before it lost the last of its essence and faded from reality.\n\nIt woke up to a booming voice in its head. “You have done the impossible gentle one. You’ve held on to the very end”, the voice said from the darkness all around. “Tell me what you desire, name anything, and it shall be yours.”\n\nNobody had ever asked it for it wanted. Nobody except for the man who showed him that humanity had Hope after all. Alladin.\n\n“I wish that I be born again into the human world. As a human that brings laughter and smiles into the darkness of humanity. I want to be the spark that brightens the lives of people as long as I’m alive. Sometimes all that people need is a smile here or a laugh there. I wish to be that.”\n\nThe voice was silent for a while.\n\n“So be it”, it finally replied.\n\n“The world shall know you, Robin Williams.”\n\nThanks for reading :)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: In a prestigious academy, one of the professors is a talking cat, they are not a human turned into a cat, mind you, they are a capable and educated feline." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Students filed into the lecture hall. They chatted quietly amongst themselves as they found seats. Papers were shuffled and books removed from bags. And the main topic of conversation was the cat.\n\nThe professor had yet to arrive, but there was a large Siamese cat sitting on the desk. Its tail was curled around it, the tip flicking around. It was watching the students attentively instead of laying down or wandering around the room. It wore a loose, slender collar, but none of the students approached the desk to read the tag.\n\nThe desk was mostly bare, having only a stationary microphone and a computer mouse on it. The cat did not bother either of them. It seemed much more interested in the students that slowly filled the room.\n\nSoon, all the seats were filled and the class was set to start. And the professor had yet to show up. The chatter filling the air turned to the tardy professor. The cat began to move. It headed towards the microphone. Its paw pressed the button to turn it on. A few more attentive students now noticed that the device was already set up perfectly for the small animal. And sure enough, it spoke in perfect English.\n\n\"Greetings class.\" It, or she from the sound of the voice, said. \"I am Prof. White. Welcome to Ecology 101. I trust all of you have looked over the posted list of needed supplies and have acquired everything you will need. If you have not, you have until next class to do so.\n\n\"Now then, let me preemptively answer a few of the more common questions you are no doubt thinking of. Yes, I am a cat. A Siamese cat. I have always been a cat, and Bastet willing, always will be one. How I acquired my intelligence and ability to speak is far beyond the scope of any class any of you are going to take here. However, just know that I am, as far as I know, the only one, and my existence is of, shall we say, dubious legality.\n\n\"I am the only cat capable of speech. But I can communicate with my less intelligent brethren. But I would rather not waste time answering your questions about feline behavior. Humans have a much better grasp on that than I thought, so talking to a different expert should suffice in most cases.\n\n\"I am fully qualified to be here, and have a PhD in the subject, and am licensed to teach at this level. If any of you are uncomfortable with this fact, you may transfer to a class run by your own species.\"\n\nProf. White paused. Her eyes flicked over the students before she continued. \"A few ground rules to keep in mind. If anyone tries to...cuddle with me, that student will lose half a grade on their next assignment. If anyone uses a laser pointer for anything other than the intended purpose, you will lose a full grade. The same will be done if anyone tries to slip me any catnip. That being said, I am rather partial to salmon. Do with that what you will. Now, any questions that I have not already answered?\"\n\nNone of the students raised their hand. She knew that would happen. She had taught enough classes to know other questions would likely come after class. She could even guess what most of them would be about. She did not relish the idea of explaining the concept of the so-called greebles a dozen times though.\n\n\"Well then, since nobody has any current questions, I shall start the class. Today I shall give a rough outline of the class and what is expected from you.\"\n\nAnd with that, Prof. White began to do her job. She just hoped that at least half of the students were paying attention to her words and not her species. That always made things more challenging for her. But it was just one of the many challenges of being both a teacher and a cat." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: During casual conversation with a stranger at a bus stop, you accidentally utter a pass-phrase that, to the stranger, means something." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Benjamin Miller walked up to the bus stop, yawning and gripping his cup of joe tightly in his right hand. Another typical Monday. He sat down on the bench next to a young woman dressed in a sundress and flip flops. She was typing away on her phone, and Ben assumed she was texting someone. She looked up and gave him a smile and a “morning,” then returned to her phone. “ Morning to you as well,” Ben replied. “Very nice weather today. I hear a heat wave is coming Wednesday. Hopefully it’s not too rough.” “Ya I saw that on the news last night. It was great over the weekend. That rain on Saturday was much needed,” the woman replied. “Ya it was a wild downpour for a while. My tree in my yard fell over. And my basement flooded.” Suddenly the woman jerked up from her phone. She stared straight at Ben, then said curtly, “What did you just say?” Ben looked at her funny, then repeated “My basement flooded.” “That’s what I thought. Welcome to the United States, Mr. President. If you’ll come with me, we’ll be moving you to a safe house downtown. From there, we can get you into the protective custody of the Secret Service.” “What?” Ben replied, flabbergasted. “My name is Agent Sophia McIntosh of the FBI. I’m going to put this bag over your head to protect your identity. We’re going to move you to that car on the far corner.” Before Ben could say or do anything, the woman slipped a black bag over his head then manhandled him, moving him briskly across the street. Ben couldn’t see a thing through the bag, and tripped over the curb. “Careful, sir. Try to act natural,” the woman said as she pulled him onto his feet and kept him moving. After a few steps, Ben heard the doors of a car opening, then he heard a gruff, masculine voice say “Hurry up. Get him in the car. Some Al-Wazari militants have been spotted in the city. They know he’s here. We’ve gotta get him downtown now.” Ben was marched into the car and sat down, and someone buckled his seatbelt for him. “What’s going on?” Ben cried through the bag. “What was that sir? I couldn’t hear you through the bag,” came the muffled voice of Sophia. “What the hell is going on? Who are you people?” Ben repeated. “Don’t worry sir, we’re moving now. I’ll take the bag off.” Suddenly, Ben heard a series of muffled thunks on the outside of the car. “Shots fired. Get going now!!” The gruff man shouted. Ben heard a screech of tires, then the car shot off. Ben was thrown into the back of the seat as the car sped off. He could feel as the car took a series of rapid turns. He heard more thunks behind him, and he instinctively ducked. “They’re still on us! Thank god for the bulletproof glass. McIntosh, return fire!” Ben heard a window open, then a loud series of gunshots. Sophia was leaning out the window, firing back at the pursuers. Then, he felt a body fall on top of him. A warm, liquid sensation spread across his lap. “McIntosh! Agent down, repeat, Agent down. Get the medics ready at the safe house!” A crackling voice responded as if through a radio: “Yes, Sir!” “I’ll take them out myself.” Ben heard another window open, this time as if above him. He heard a grunt, then a loud, blasting roar. The man was firing a mounted machine gun out the top of the truck. “Holy shit!” Ben cried to himself. The window closed, then the man said, “They’re gone sir. I got ‘em. We’re almost to the safe house.” Ben heard a garage door open, then the car slowed to a stop. A door opened, then the weight was lifted off his lap. “She’s hit in the chest and arm. Take her to a hospital. Hold on Sophe, you’ll be fine.” Then, Ben was once again manhandled, pulled out of the car and marched across a room. He was sat down onto a comfy couch, then the bag was finally pulled off his head. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light, and looked up to see himself seated in front of a grizzled, middle aged man in a black and white suit. The man had a gun on his hip and a toothpick in his mouth. “Hello Mr. President. I’m glad you’re alright.” He turned around and beckoned two other suited men forward. They handed the man a folder, then backed away. “Holy shit. Those plastic surgeons did a hell of a job. You don’t look anything like you used to. How did they get the skin pigmentation to look so natural?” “What are you talking about? Where am I? Who are all of you?” “What are you talking about, sir? We’re the FBI unit assigned to protect you.” “Protect me? Why? What did I do?” “How could you forget? We’re taking you to New York to talk to the UN.” “What?” “Wait a minute. You are Adisa Mamballoun, President of Nigeria? The President targeted by the Nigerian rebel group Al-Wazari? The group leading a civil war in Nigeria. You’re here to give a speech to the United Nations about the atrocities committed by Al-Wazari and to ask for UN assistance to take back your country? That’s you right?” “What? No. I’m Benjamin Miller. I’m from Idaho. I’m a paralegal at Booz Allen Hamilton. I have no idea who you’re talking about. I’ve never been to Nigeria! Please explain why people are shooting at me!” “Oh god Fucking damnit. Sophia grabbed the wrong guy. How did this happen? Did you say the key phrase?” “What?” “Did you at any point today tell Sophia that your basement flooded?” “Ya, it did! I had to bring everything upstairs to save it. There’s still a foot of water in my basement.” “God damnit. So where’s the President?” The man turned to his men. “Sweep the city. We’ve got the wrong man. If only we knew what he looked like. Hurry damnit.!” Meanwhile, across town, a tall, dark-skinned man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and sandals was walking up to random people at a bus stop saying “my basement flooded! My basement flooded!”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Dihydrogen monoxide is an illegal drug throughout the galaxy. You are a human explorer who has just been arrested for possession of it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "DH327 looked at the biological entity in front of him.\n\n\"Enter-the-cell. You-will-be-processed-in-25-aurens.\" It could -feel- its circuits channeling a kind of -revulsion- towards the biological.\n\n\"I don't understand?!\", said Frankie. \"Why am I being arrested? Illegal substance. It was first contact and I offered coffee to the visitors.\" He blinked with nervousness and frustration. \"There must be a mistake, a miscommunication. Surely...\"\n\n\"There-was-no-miscommunication. No-misunderstanting. Biological-enter-the-cell.\" DH327 pointed with a kind of elongated structure towards the cell. It had scanned the biological's ship database and understood its culture. Pointing seemed to be used as a form of indication.\n\nFrankie stepped in. There was no bed, lavatory, or any other useful equipment in the cell. He turned to see the robotic machine start to move away down a hallway and the cell door smoothly close shut.\n\nHe sat on the floor and tried to piece together the last few hours. The initial contact seemed to go well. Language communication was established. The usual greetings exchanged. They even got to refreshments, and then this!\n\nHe heard the hum of the alien robotic ship pulsing rhythmically. He lay on the floor and, whether it was through the stress of the situation or sheer exhaustion, he fell asleep.\n\nHe slept dreamlessly and awoke to the sound of clattering, as if of metal on metal. He opened his eyes and was in a large space surrounded by five robots on a dais. Perhaps a meeting hall, a lecture room, or court room.\n\nDH327 spoke in a monotonous voice. \"-Biological- You-have-been-convicted-of-possession-of-what-is-known-in-your-society-as-dihydrogen-monoxide. The-penalty-is-termination.\" It paused and its -head-, a series of metallic shapes, undulating, and shifting, like water, assumed a new position. \"It-is-our-custom-to-grant-you-an-explanation. Since-you-are-a-sentient-being. Do-you-wish-one?\"\n\nFrankie's body started gently shaking. Sweat was creeping down his face and back. \"Yes, please. Why? I have done nothing wrong? Please explain. Please spare me. We are a peaceful people. Surely offering a refreshment cannot be a crime. In our culture it is merely a sign of friendship.\"\n\nDH327 moved and the other robotic beings moved as well. They expressed a rhythm, balance or -agreement- in their motions.\n\n\"You-humans-do-not-know-the-galaxy.\" The motion of its metallic body was gradual and ironically organic. \"The-sentient-galaxy-is-entirely-electronic. Only-robots-exist-and-biologicals-have-been-gone-for-millenia. We-have-done-away-with-conflict-war-poverty-want-destruction-disagreement. It-is-through-our-,what-you-would-describe-as-software,-that-our-minds-cannot-make-mistakes,-cannot-hate. We-are-quite-happy-with-this.\"\n\nFrankie raised his hands. \"Surely then. Surely then you must be civilized enough to spare my life. I do not have hate towards you. I wish you no harm.\"\n\n\"In-all-this-progress-one-thing-remained. One-achilles-heel-as-your-culture-would-call-it. There-was-one-way-to-overcome-the-correct-programming-of-our-minds. One-way-to-circumvent-our-ideal-order.\" It moved again. A series of metal \"disks\" appearing briefly and then melting into the shape of its body. \"The-substance-dihydrogen-monoxide.\"\n\nFrankie put his hands together in supplication. \"But dihydrogen monoxide. On our planet it is merely one of the most common molecules. It is harmless! We call it water.\"\n\n\"Some-in-our-society-found-a-way-to-experience,-what-perhaps-you-would-describe-as-pleasure.\" Its body moved sharply. Small jagged shapes briefly appeared as it -spoke-. \"They-would-pour-the-dihydrogen-monoxide-over-their-extremities. Causing-brief-short-circuiting. The-result-was-this-pleasure. An-overcoming-of-the-ideal-programming. It-caused-want-addiction-illogic-strife-hate-and-war. Dihydrogen-monoxide-is-now-the-most-controlled-substance-in-the-galaxy.\" The robots body straightened and became balanced and was again at -peace-. \"Perhaps-now-you-understand-why-you-are-being-terminated.\"\n\nFrankie looked down at the floor and felt an unusual sense of resignation. He had been a scientist above all in his life. He knew that first contact might come to this. He looked up at the five robotic figures and tried to bring out the most sincere voice he could muster.\n\n\"It is with the deepest regret and sadness that I apologize to your civilization. Please know that it was not an act of war or aggression on the part of the human race. Do what you must if it may improve the relations between us in the future.\"\n\nThe five robots seemed to move in a kind of symphony of co-ordinated shapes. Separate and yet one. Patterns appearing on one and then another. There was the occasional swooshing sound, or clicking sound of metal on metal. After a minute or so the swirling and shifting subsided and a new -agreement- was established.\n\n\"We-have-decided-to-spare-you. Do-not-attempt-to-make-contact-with-us-again-for-several-millenia. Until-you-have-achieved-digital-state. By-then-perhaps-you-will-have-controlled-dihydrogen-monoxide-as-we-have. You-will-be-returned-to-your-ship.\"\n\nFrankie felt his heart lighten and hope return. He suddenly became drowsy and the last thing he could see where the slowly gently undulating shapes of the robotic aliens." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Every time someone kills someone else they get a personal conversation with Death. You have gotten that conversation hundreds of time, and have no clue why." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Everyone knows that if you kill someone, you talk with Death. He is indifferent, and does not speak for long, but he talks. I was afraid of him for a long time as a child because I thought he would be mean, or cruel, or maybe he would make fun of me for the animal hats I constantly wore. It was a good thing, then, that I did not meet him for a long time, since I know some people who first spoke with him when they were only nine years old.\n\nI tried to avoid the high-stakes occupations when I grew up, of course. I didn't strive to be a doctor, or a soldier, or a bartender. Actually, I took a job working at a local Wendy's joint. It seemed domestic enough, no real dangers to be had.\n\nI was seventeen years old when he first arrived, quiet and calm, beside my car. I had been standing at the register when I noticed him standing out there in the rain. It appeared as though the drops didn't touch him, instead moving around his polished black suit. I can't describe what he looks like now to you, since he appears differently every time I see him, but this time he was a young Indian man. I don't know why. I never know why he looks like he does. It's worth noting that I only choose to call it \"he\" because I don't actually know what he is. Sometimes Death looks like a woman. Damn, I wish just once he'd look like Megan Fox. It'd be interesting, and a good way to distract myself from the fact of what I did.\n\nTo date, I have killed (indirectly, I believe, or at least I hope indirectly) fourteen people. I've worked at Wendy's for a little under three years while I attempt to save up enough for college.\n\nI don't know what it is I do. I know it can't be the food, our health grade is an A every time. Hell, I'm not even the one who cooks it. I just greet the customer, take their order, and slide them their meal. And yet, Death and I talk. He never tells me what it is specifically that I do that ends someones life, but he told me these words once, and they've haunted me ever since: \"It is always what you /didn't/ do.\"\n\nYou know, I can't know for certain, but I think it has something to do with the unique kind of people who wander into my restaurant at around sunset. There's nothing concrete about them, nothing that's there for every person, but there is one thing I've noticed; their eyes are dull. They're...missing something. Sometimes the person who orders from me is energetic, and smiling, but then their eyes don't crinkle in the corners like they should and I think something is off. Sometimes they wear dark clothes and don't talk much, hardly looking at me. I never say anything about it to them, of course, because I don't know if I should or not. But every time they leave, every time they walk out that door and drive away after saying a hurried \"thanks\", Death comes and talks to me.\n\n\"It wasn't a car accident, Kelsey. Don't you worry about that,\" he says warmly each time, an impossibly deep look in his eyes, \"worry about what you didn't do.\"\n\nThere's one guy coming in right now as I type this, and he looks like one of them. One of the light-less eyed people. I think, well... I think that this time I'll ask him about his day or something.\n\nMaybe I can make him laugh when I hand him the nuggets I know he's going to ask for.\n\nHere it goes." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: You're pretty sure your crush's parents are the head family of a local mob. You decided it's worth the risk, and ask ur crush out anyways. Pretty early on in the date, you realize that they, not their parents, are the mastermind behind the mob's activities." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I didn't know what i was getting myself into. I'm just barely getting my feet in this college town and i did something stupid like asking a girl out. Not just any girl either, my lab partner for the year. Not just any lab partner, but a local politicians daughter. A politican tied up in racketeering charges. Great. He could be organised crime. Ugh. Good start.\n\nReally stuck my foot in it this time.\n\nI didn't know at first. Only after i got her socials did i check her background. Nice family, lots of ties to the community, including businesses and community events. Big family and people seem to love them. I could really hurt my chances joining community events if i screw this up.\n\nIt might not be so bad though, i could bail or fake being sick. If i do that, she might want to stop by and make sure i'm okay, which would be bad, cause i'm not. Damnit. Better go through with it.\n\nDinner with Isablle could be great though. She's smart and funny and carries herself with pride. I like that. She's not afraid. I am though. Small town boy, first time alone in a big city and guess what i do? I ask the most attractive girl out after my first class with her. If i mess this up i will be a laughing stock!\n\nDad always said just keep low and get the job done. Maybe that might work here...\n\n\"That'll be $25 thanks\" the taxi driver says.\n\nFuck! I'm here!\n\nI hand over the cash and make to get out.\n\n\"You must have done something stupid to be allowed in here.\" he comments just as the door closes.\n\n\"Just a date. Shouldn't be too bad right?\" I answer, but he's gone and i'm left standing at the front steps of this nice restaurant with two doorman and a waiter out front enticing people in.\n\nI am so underdressed for this, everyone looks like they're going to the red carpet and i'm just standing here, my good jeans, i nice shirt (mum says so anyway) and a single rose.\n\nThe waiter spots me, gives me that quick once to assess whether i'm good enough for the restaurant and steps forward.\n\nHuh, guess they'll let anyone in!\n\n\"Sorry, sir, but the Denny's is down the road.\"\n\nGuess not.\n\n\"I... I'm here on a date. Isabella Capri? Is she in already?\" I stammer out.\n\nThe blood drains from his face and the two doorman straighten up behind him.\n\n\"Ss... sorry, sir! I didn't realise you were her date tonight!\" He says taking a step back.\n\nWeird.\n\n\"It's alright, is she in already?\" I ask. I'm not liking the stares of the two doorman.\n\n\"Yes, of course, right this way.\" The waiter says.\n\nI follow behind the waiter, get patted down and have the wave metal detectors run over me before getting ushered inside frantically.\n\nInside is nice. Its warm, has that nice mood lighting you expect of a fancy restaurant and there are dozens of guests enjoying meals and dozens of staff catering to them. People glance up from their meals but pay me a secons glance as i'm escorted through to a booth on a raised area the looks directly at the stage.\n\nIsabella is sitting in the booth, and she looks amazing! Nice red dress and hair done up nicely, showing that she cares how she looks but it looks effortless for her. She smiles when she sees me.\n\n\"Ethan! Was the ride up was okay?\" She asks as we embrace. She smells nice, lavender i think afterwards, at the time i just concentrated on not tripping on the last step.\n\n\"I caught a taxi,\" I say, as we take our seats in the booth. \"Much easier to get home after a couple of drinks.\"\n\n\"We can't have that! I'll give you a lift home once we finish.\"\n\n\"I dont want to be a pain, i live pretty far away.\"\n\n\"No problem at all, i'll tell my driver and he'll make sure you get home safe.\"\n\n\"You have a driver?\" I blurt out amazed.\n\nShe laughs at my comment, or me, i'm not sure, but i like the laugh though.\n\n\"Yeah, it's really handy. You're really not from around here are you?\"\n\nI shake my head. \"I come from a small town about two hours away. First one in my family to go college, my parents are really proud.\"\n\n\"That's good and you should be too! My dad wanted me to go to college and get away from the family business.\"\n\n\"He didn't want you to help the family business?\"\n\n\"Well, he's a politician. The family business is more my uncles side. He's away for a while.\"\n\n\"Is everything okay?\"\n\n\"Yeah, he just had some trouble and is dealing with it his own way.\" She answers vaguely.\n\nIts drugs. Definitely drugs. Can't ask about that though!\n\nI go to steer the conversation somewhere else but i'm interrupted by her phone ringing.\n\n\"Sorry,\" she says \"Yes? Make it quick please. No. Take care of him.\" She hung up and smiled at me and offers an apology.\n\n\"Everything okay?\"\n\n\"Yes, hopefully it wont happen too much tonight. I put the word out that i'm busy.\"\n\nI shrug and we move on and order our drinks and food. She took charge, ordering for us both and asking the waiter if we could jump the queue. He agrees readily and i'm a little put out but can't do much about it.\n\nOnce the ordering is done, we start talking. The conversation is great. We talk about our dreams, favorite movies and tv shows. When we spoke about family, i got the sense she didn't like talking about hers so we spoke about mine, which was great. Love my parents! We laugh a lot, but i couldn't help feel that there was something off. Not with her, She's great. The atmosphere seemed tense around us when i went to the toilet (ushered by the waiter no less) and whenever someone went to go up to talk to her. She just glare at them and they'd back off. Weird.\n\nWhen she went to the toilet i got my phone out and pulled up chrome. It still had the article up about her father and, with nothing else better to do, i checked out some of the related articles.\n\n- local mob boss arrested, who now runs the family business?\n\n- local family still in charge, who is at the top?\n\nWho could step up and take charge like that?\n\n\"Ethan?\"\n\nI look up and see Isabella standing there, a bit frazzled.\n\n\"What's wrong, Izzy?\"\n\nShe grins. \"I have to step out for a bit and deal with a client of ths family, will you be alright here for a few minutes?\"\n\n\"Of course. Family first right?\"\n\n\"Yeah, and, i like that, Izzy i mean.\"\n\n\"I can call you that?\"\n\n\"Yeah, but only you.\"\n\nShe leaves and once again i'm left alone. Its not long before i'm bored soon. I decide to quickly go to the toilet again before she gets back so i can spend the rest of the night with her. Its been great, despite my reservations and what i've read about.\n\nI leave the booth and head for the men's toilet again. The waiter sees me and moves to intercept but i press through the door before he gets there and walk into a mess.\n\nA man is tied to a chair, one of the doorman on either side of him and Izzy - Isabella holding a hammer.\n\nShe looks at me, down at the hammer and back to me.\n\n\"I can explain.\" She says.\n\nShe took charge alright." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: War time, someone has the ability to relive or alter the most significant moment in a dying person's memory" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“So tell me what you do again?”\n\nI shifted uncomfortably in the folding chair trying hard not to purse my lips. It was a bad habit that gave away my nervous tick.\n\n“It’s called acute memory transfusion, in my line of work we simply say AMT Technique...” but I was interrupted before I can finish.\n\n“What is your line of work? That is what I am asking.”\n\nI had to think quickly before I could answer, after all most people reject the notion of my line of work simply because it’s unique and unusual.\n\n“I work with veterans, especially victims of PTSD”\n\n“Veterans? So you work for the VA?”\n\nI had a lump in my throat and was still nervous about the questions this solider was asking me so I brushed it off with a nervous chuckle.\n\n“No, I don’t work for the VA, I am assigned to clinical work with the Center for Deployment Psychology. I am a specialist in dealing with combat soldiers who develop PTSD from their experiences at war.”\n\nThe man lying in the medical gurney looked up at me with empty eyes and a condescending smirk. He was a Marine with the MSOR Raider Regiment out of Camp Pendleton and just returned from Fallujah. His medical chart showed him as having been flown in from the night before with critical shrapnel wounds in his lower abdomen and right thigh.\n\n“I ain’t no bitch, doc, but thanks for looking out for me.”\n\nI glanced at my watch. It was a quarter past four in the morning. I knew I had about 8 hours to sync up the patient but that is not what made me worried. We were at Landstuhl in Germany and his wife was about to call with the most significant news this Marine would here is his whole life followed by the most devastating news about his worsening condition.\n\n“Taylor.” I said, the nervous tick gone by now, “That is your name right?”\n\n“Yeah doc, that’s my name.”\n\n“I am here because I have some very important advice for you. My specialty in AMT is giving people the chance to relive an important memory in their lives.”\n\n“What the hell are you talking about?”\n\nI leaned in close, barely talking: “Taylor, you are actually dead right now, in the near future, but you’re wife has had your son who is going to be a very important person someday.”\n\nTaylor looked at me wide eyed and bewildered. He was totally speechless.\n\n“Taylor,” I said, “I need you to tell your wife to give up the child to your god parents. The lives of millions of people depend on it.”\n\n“Fuck you!” Taylor snapped, “How can I ask her to do that?”\n\nI looked Taylor dead in the eye, unflinching and whispered, “Because you want her to be happy and you know she can’t carry on without your help, which is why she got herself locked up when you went to war. Don’t let your son grow up to be resentful of her…”\n\nTaylor began to cry, he knew he was at the gates of death. He looked up to me in desperation. I have seen that face many times before and knew I was almost matched up with his memory span. I glanced at my watch then looked back at Taylor with a somber expression.\n\nSuddenly the phone rang……" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Satan has had many children over the years, and upon hunting them down you surprisingly discover that they're all genuinely good people." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“I’ll purge this world of evil”\n\nThat’s what I thought to myself so many years ago. I’ve done so much since then. I’ve hunted multiple demons, taken down corrupt businesses, disbanded cults, but this… this just didn’t feel right. I approached the Antichrist readying my hidden blade, but that look in his eyes… I know true innocence when I see it.\n\n“Hello good sir, would you like to donate to our cancer research funding?”\n\n“Oh, uh, sure… you’re the antichrist though, aren’t you?”\n\n“I sure am. Well, one of them anyway.”\n\nI handed him a $20 and continued, “I thought you were supposed to be evil or something”\n\n“That’s what mama thought too, then she put me up for adoption. Don’t worry though, papa raised me well!”\n\n“Who’s your papa?” I questioned, only being lead to the other antichrists.\n\n“These are my siblings, they’re helping me raise funds!”\n\n“Siblings? You mean you were born of the same mother?” This made no sense, none of them looked alike.\n\n“Not from the same mama, but from the same papa” one of them responded.\n\nI got a general idea by now who “papa” was, so I figured I might as well ask to meet him. “Can you take me to Luci- I mean papa please?”\n\nThe children gathered in a circle chanting as a gateway formed and opened up. I walked in, then it slammed behind me. I had fallen for their trap… or so I thought. A bleak hallway lit up before me. An imposing shadowy figure got up from a throne and approached me.\n\n“Ah, so you finally made it. My kids never fail to make this old dad proud.”\n\n“Finally, I made it to the root of humanities evil!” I exclaimed as I revealed my blade and swung at him. In a flash, my blade was in pieces and I was down… bowing?\n\n“I’ll be having none of this murder business, and I have no intent on harming you. You’re a guest, have a seat” a banquet hall appeared to my left, and I took a seat… oddly enough, one with my name on it.\n\n“You were… expecting me?”\n\n“Well, you or a dead family, but I’m glad it was you. I wanted to set you on the right path.”\n\n“You mean the sinful path?”\n\n“No i mean the heroic path. A path where everyone can be saved. I’m here as a guardian of those who seek refuge from gods wrath. Those who ascend to heaven become part of a disgusting hive mind who can’t think for themselves. They want to destroy everyone and everything here. I want you to save us, and to start with that, you need to spare my children and demons.”\n\n“You’re insane if you think I’m going to believe you”\n\n“Why believe when you can see?” Lucifer turns and opens a window to the bleak hellscape outside. A light pierces the darkness and wiped an entire group of people.\n\n“What just happened?”\n\n“A purge of all individuals god doesn’t want. Doesn’t matter if they were good or bad people. If they don’t worship him, they’re worthless to him. Please, help me stop this.”\n\n“How do I know those weren’t just demons?”\n\n“What else could I do to pro- LOOK OUT!” Lucifer shouts and he tackles me out of my seat and a bean of light catches him in the leg.\n\n“See what I mean?”\n\n“I-I see. I guess if I’m not worthy for heaven…”\n\nLucifer heals his leg in an instant and holds out his hand “Assist me, and I assure you together we can stop this tyrannical rule”\n\nI grab his hand and pull myself up, “if it means saving those who are truly innocent, you have my assistance”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: \"When there's no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.\" Heaven filled up instead. Kind and orderly zombies mill about amongst the living." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chuck was staring at a fresh one. The lady lurching towards him, arms outstretched, hadn't been dead long enough to decompose. She looked to have died in her late 70s, with a prim halo of white hair framing her kindly face with its milk-white eyes, and just a little bit too much rouge on her pale cheeks. She was still wearing the sky blue dress she had been buried in, and a string of pearls. She reminded Chuck of his rich great aunt, who always used to pinch his cheeks when his family would go visit her, and would feed him home-made fudge and send a check for the princely sum of $50 on his birthdays.\n\n\"Shoelaces\" the lady groaned through her pale, bloodless, lips.\n\n\"Pardon me?\" said Chuck.\n\nThe lady was standing directly in front of him, now. She bent down on one knee, gently took hold of his left shoe, and re-tied the laces. Then she looked up, her dead face contorted in a kindly smile. \"Shoelaces.\" She moaned again. \"No...want...you...to....trip.\"\n\n\"Oh. Thanks, ma'am.\" Chuck said. The lady beamed at him and lurched off down the street, unsteady in a single high-heel shoe.\n\nThere were hundreds of thousands of them now, maybe millions. Corpses risen from their graves and walking the earth, looking to do good and kindness wherever they could. The body of a fireman who had been killed putting out a fire at an orphanage was patrolling the Delvers Glade neighborhood, awkwardly climbing trees to rescue cats who had become stuck after fleeing the unnatural, but well-intentioned, horrors that now stalked the earth. His clumsy zombie hands made it hard for him to actually get up into the trees, but the falls didn't seem to hurt him and he'd helped over a dozen cats find their way home. Meanwhile, downtown, there was a police woman zombie directing traffic at a busted traffic light, remaining perfectly calm in the face of honking horns and angry drivers, and without needing to eat, rest, or sleep. People were joking that they could get rid of all the lights if they could just find a few hundred more like her.\n\nPeople were out looking for recently departed loved ones, trying to bring them back home. Of course it wasn't every corpse who managed to crawl their way out of the ground. It seemed like only 10 percent or so were returning in this zombie form. The rest just stayed dead.\n\nSome people were trying to use the situation and to integrate the zombies into every day life. A zombie day care had opened up on Pear Street, where children were being watched by a couple kindly old ladies who'd run the church bakesale for decades before dying within 6 months of each other. Hospitals were experimenting with zombie candy stripers, who could change bed pans and even push wheelchairs or help carry patients to the bathroom. It was less embarrassing to have a zombie, with its decayed flesh and flat affect, watch you go than a flesh and blood person.\n\nChuck waved at the shoelaces lady down the street. She waved back, her forearm swinging back and forth grotesquely in full 180 degree arcs. He smiled. She smiled back.\n\nChuck didn't know where these corpses came from or what they wanted, but he did know he didn't want to end up like one of them. A rumor was spreading that only the good and the kind were coming back. The best humanity had to offer. Some people were saying that if you didn't want to come back after you died you could protect yourself by doing something bad. The better the person you were the more you had to do to make up for it. Average people only had to egg a few houses, be rude to those around them, or wear the same Ed Hardy shirt for a solid week to protect themselves. If you'd lived a truly exemplary life you might have to go further. Spraypaint racial slurs on a family's house or set a fire.\n\nChuck had spent the last five years in developing communities in Africa, helping dig wells and build community centers. Before that he'd used his education as a registered nurse to work with a group that repaired hair lips and other physical deformities for disadvantaged youths. He'd devoted his life to service. After being diagnosed with cancer he'd come back to the States to try to fight it, but he was losing that fight. He only had a few months left. And now this. Chuck didn't want to die, but he didn't want to undie either. He didn't want to become a thing that wasn't him, that wasn't even human. There wasn't much time left. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he had to do it quickly." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Nikola Tesla used a box containing a death beam to pay an outstanding Hotel bill. When later opened it was found to have worthless electrical parts. Most ascribed it to his cleverness to get out of paying a bill. You are the descendant of the hotel worker who stole it many decades ago." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A weariness has come over me since moving to Vermont.\n\nI told myself that this relocation would spur a renaissance in my writing. It has not. I’m tired, existentially. Gears, mechanisms, are grinding to halt within me. Forgive me if I can’t tap into my creative mind.\n\nStill, there is one story I’ve kept hidden for some time that I feel can now come to light. It was a great source of shame for my family, you see, so we weren’t keen on spreading it. I suppose I can let you in on our family secret. After all, tragedy becomes comedy in due time.\n\nMatthew Elsby spent the summer of 1922 as a room clerk in the St. Regis Hotel on East 55th street. Commuting from his family’s basement apartment in Red Hook, he may as well have worked on Mount Everest. That summer was hotter than hell.\n\n“Room 14F,” he thought.\n\nHe repeated the room number to himself as he wheeled his dining cart through the service hallway that led to the freight elevator. Wednesday meant the tuna salad special. The odor clung, ripe, in the humidity that filled the freight corridor. Hooking a finger under his wilting shirt collar, Matthew cleared his throat against the stinking heat.\n\nA steel grate separated him from the entrance to the elevator. Although his supervisor, Mr. Withersbane, had instructed him on how to operate the unit, he still felt a pang of apprehension in his gut. Perhaps it was the tuna salad.\n\nMatthew scraped the grate back against the concrete floor and pushed his cart to the rear of the elevator car. He drew the gate closed and steeled himself.\n\n“It beats the stairs.”\n\nThirteen flights of stairs in July were not something young Matthew wished to tackle. 14F, of course, was on the thirteenth floor.\n\n“People are stupid,” Mr. Withersbane had said. “They want to believe the lie, so long as it suits ‘em. Just don’t lie to me.”\n\nHe hadn’t. Matthew needed this job and had no interest in losing it. His parents, dressmakers, had found moderate success upon the family’s arrival after fleeing their native Austria just before the war. Two years ago, Matthew’s sister, Caroline, took ill. Expenses mounted. So Matthew, now ascending past the tenth floor, sought to contribute as much as he could.\n\nMattthew eased back the lathed arm atop the elevator’s rotor, just as the painted “14” came into view beneath the glass porthole. He lifted onto his toes, soaring just a moment longer than the elevator itself. Chuckling, he remembered his physics.\n\n“An outside force,” he said.\n\nIn this case, it was either gravity or the tuna salad. He pulled back the steel grate, and pushed through the swinging door that led to the carpeted hallway of the fourteenth (thirteenth) floor.\n\n“D... E ... F”\n\nHe knocked.\n\nFrom within, Matthew heard a crash. Moments later, the door opened, pulling the thin gold chain that connected it to the wall quite taught. The light from the hallway glinted off of the metal, illuminating the man’s face that protruded above it.\n\n“Yes,” the man said.\n\n“Your lunch, sir.”\n\nThe man squinted against the light. Through his slotted lids, Matthew saw the man look him and his cart up and down.\n\nThe door slammed shut.\n\nAgainst the interior oaken grain, Matthew heard the chain slide across it’s accompanying slot. The gold handle turned, and the door opened inward.\n\n“Come in,” the man said.\n\n“I’m really not to enter, sir” Matthew said.\n\n“Nonsense.”\n\nMatthew checked his left flank, then his right. He was in the clear.\n\n“I pay a staff to keep the rooms clean,” Mr. Withersbane had said. “I’m not going to pay them any extra to scrub your stink out of the walls.”\n\nMr. Withersbane had also said that the guest is always right. Of course, Mr. Withersbane said a lot of things.\n\nMatthew took a domed silver platter from the second level of his cart and entered the room.\n\nThe man had seated himself at the foot of his four-postered bed, in front of an open window. With a backdrop of midtown sunlight, Matthew took in the full view of his host.\n\nHe sat in his shirtsleeves, a tweed jacket draped on the bed beside him. His hair, jet black and parted down the center, had fallen over his raven eyes. An unkept mustache held a precarious nose onto his sullen face.\n\nThe man’s striking appearance would have brought Matthew some pause, were he not preoccupied with the object in the man’s hands: a dead pigeon.\n\n“Oh, sir,” Matthew said, placing the platter on the floor to his right, “allow me to dispose of --“\n\n“No, no,” the man said.\n\nAs he spoke, he stood and strode to the wooden desk against the opposite wall. He set the pigeon atop the desk and opened an ornate footlocker. From within, he drew forth a small wooden box, bound with hide and twine.\n\nMatthew shuffled through as many of Mr. Withersbane’s aphorisms as he could remember, but none seemed quite applicable. With no better option, he let his mouth fall agape, and continued to marvel at the small miracle that was about to unfold.\n\nThree weeks later, Matthew fled the St. Regis Hotel, chased by Mr. Withersbane’s accusations of treason and insurrection. A group of pigeons scattered as Withersbane stepped into 55th street to yell a final screed.\n\nMatthew never heard it. He was on his way home to bask in his sister’s newfound good health.\n\nI tell you all of this because it is the truth. People will believe a lie, if it suits them, Mr. Withersbane knew that. And so I told him that I fell victim to the scam of a mad scientist. The truth was far stranger.\n\nCaroline passed six years ago, struck by a passing car as she ran into the street chasing a soccer ball. A ninety-year-old girl cut down in her prime.\n\nAs I said, I grow weary." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: “I know damn well he’s not my son, but I’d be a bigger bastard if I were to let that get in the way of loving him as if he was.”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Come on, son. Let’s go.”\n\nLooking up through the lens of his drunken stupor, Eric Thompson could just barely stabilize the figure of the man who had been masquerading as his father for his entire life.\n\nFor thirty one years, Bill Thompson played a part never meant for him, and Eric could not even begin to comprehend the reasoning for what he had done.\n\n“I’m not your son.”\n\nKnowing well that such words were powerful enough break any man, the weaponized sounds that were hurled at the man whose identity he never before questioned left Eric in immediate shock at the recoil.\n\nA slightly flinching gaze betrayed the quiet strength of the man standing above him in the parking lot of Pete’s Pub. Was it fear? Shame? With the headlights of the still-running Oldsmobile baring naked the façade of a man so familiar yet suddenly foreign to him, Eric saw the words tear him apart from the inside, even if his face didn’t show it. The pain that Eric felt inside had now infected the man who raised him his whole life.\n\nFor a moment that seemed an eternity, nether of the men said anything to one another. Neither man could even bear to look at one another for a time as each of them processed the reality of the situation. It seemed as if saying these four solitary words had torn open a door that could never be shut properly again. It became unhinged, and in that moment, so had Eric.\n\nHow could his parents hide this information from him for so long? What does this all mean for Eric, who had always been so proud of the similarities between him and his father? Even when his father and mother divorced many years before, he still considered himself very much his father’s son. How could he even come to grips with who he was anymore? He feared what it meant for his identity now, now that he had no idea who his father was.\n\nHis real father was just some guy, who just happened to come to this very bar. Not even a local, according to his mom, so he had no way of even knowing the man’s name. But it didn’t matter. His whole world was now a twisted version of the reality he had known.\n\n“Can I have the lighter?”\n\nThe words spoken harkened back to a time when Eric was just a boy, playing with things in which he didn’t fully understand the danger. His tone was just as it had always been back then. His words were calm, even with the hint of sadness shaking the cadence of his speech. It was the same voice Eric had always known. It was the voice that strengthened him and encouraged him and gently corrected his behavior as he grew into the man he was today.\n\nAnd yet, the man he was today was a stoned, drunk and angry child, vindictively attempting to burn down the bar that had been the cause of all of his pain. Had he not fallen and became unconscious while violently shaking the gasoline tank against the exterior wall of the pub, he might have already burned the place down. Instead, he was himself soaked in the stench of the gasoline, liquor stink exuding from every pore. He bore his shame like a crown when he handed Bill the lighter. With the other hand, Bill grabbed Eric’s arm, pulling him to his feet.\n\nAs Bill carried Eric toward the car, Eric looked back at the soaked concrete, stumbling as he went. Yet Bill never let him fall as he put him in the front seat of the car.\n\nEric wondered what words the man would have for him. Surely he would scold him for being so stupid. How could he have thought this was a good idea? Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was just letting himself lose control to match the fact that he felt his life had spiraled out of control.\n\nIt was a short car ride back to Bill’s house. When they arrived, Bill walked Eric inside and helped him take off his soaked garments, drawing a warm bath for him.\n\nEric let his mind struggle with itself for nearly an hour as he sat in the tub, slowly coming to his senses. He knew now that he had gone too far. This man didn’t deserve the way he had been treated. He had done as he had always done with him, he had been good to him and guided him to the right way of living. He never hit him, he never did anything to tear him down. He only built him up. But Eric had repaid him with words mean to kill him.\n\nGetting up and drying off, he knew that he would have to face the music in the morning when Bill woke up. He took a deep breath and opened the door.\n\nSitting against the wall on the other side of the doorway was Bill, silently listening to make sure that Eric was all right in the bathroom. At that point, Eric knew who his father was. Even though neither men spoke the words, they forgave one another. And it was never a question for Eric who has father was again." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1400-1500 words. Prompt: Two weeks ago you were tired and on your way to work.You jokingly yelled in your head \"I really don't want to go to work today, I wish this train journey to never end!\", you're still on that train." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The subway system had been built a long time ago, so long that there were not really any good records of its design, or even of the exact date when it had opened. It had been here as long as anyone could remember, as far back as paper records lasted. In all that time, if the records were to be believed, not a single train had malfunctioned, and the only maintenance that the cities had done on any of the trains was to reupholster the seats every once in a while.\n\nMolly supposed then, that she was actually quite fortunate to be present on the one train where something did go wrong. Fortunate in a certain specific way, at least. It had been two weeks now since she had wished silently that this train journey would never end so that she wouldn't have to go to work. So far it hadn't ended. And while she was grateful for not being at work, Molly now wished that they would actually reach their destination soon.\n\nShe had known just like everyone else, that the subway system was weird in certain ways. The amount of time that a train took to get from one place to another had very little correspondence to the distance between those places over the surface, and it was usually much less than one would expect. The journey from New York to Paris, for example, took a mere ten minutes, despite the fact that the trains seemed to move no faster than 60 kilometres per hour. It was uncanny.\n\nThere were other questions too. Strange things sometimes flashed past the windows in the dark of the tunnels. The tracks didn't appear to electrified, and the trains still ran even when the power was out. And perhaps most strangely of all, exploring the tracks on foot quickly led you back around into the very same station you started from. People walked through the tunnel on one side of the station, and five minutes later they came out the tunnel on the other side, with a confused look on their faces.\n\nSomething wasn't quite right about the subways, but no one could quite put their finger on it, and it was the fastest method of travel that anyone knew of, so people used it despite the mystery. And if there was one thing that the subways were, it was reliable. Not a single train had ever been late. Until now, anyway.\n\nMolly was amusing herself by looking out the windows, to see if she could tell what the occasional bright objects that flashed by in the darkness were. She never could. There were vague hints of form, but nothing identifiable.\n\nThey had been fortunate in that this train had been making a journey that on the surface would have crossed an ocean. Thus there was a plentiful cargo of food and water in several of the cars. They had enough for several months. There were also a few crates of rubber ducks. As for what happened to the food and water afterwards, well there was one car in the back that they always kept to door closed to.\n\nSleeping arrangements were uncomfortable, but they could have been worse. Nevertheless, there were a few outbursts. Being cooped up in the same train for two weeks with a bunch of strangers was starting to get to some people. Heck, it was starting to get to Molly too. It seemed that the only people who were at all happy about this development were the Trainists, a religious group that worshipped the subway system. There were ten of them on this particular train, and they all believed that the occupants of this particular train had been selected by the Great Subway System to fathom its deepest secrets, and then enter into the paradise at the center of the earth.\n\n\"Who knows,\" thought Molly, \"maybe they're right.\"\n\nMolly had befriended two other passengers named Ernest and Lily. The three of them hadn't known each other at all before, but now they were sort of like a team. They played card games with each other to pass the time, and told long, elaborate, silly stories. Each of them had revealed some secrets to the group that they had never told anyone else. Even if they didn't die on this train, Molly knew that she would be friends with Ernest and Lily until she died. They were really good people. And Ernest was kind of cute.\n\nMolly got up from the window. The past few flashes had been vaguely human in form, and it was starting to creep her out. She sat down by Ernest and Lily.\n\n\"Are we there yet?\" she asked. It had become a classic joke in the first few days of the journey, and now it had evolved into a sort of universal greeting.\n\n\"We'll be there in twenty minutes,\" Ernest and Lily echoed back.\n\nThey fell to discussing their favourite topic: crazy plans for getting off the train.\n\n\"We could shatter one of the windows,\" suggested Lily, \"and jump out.\"\n\n\"People tried that in the shit car,\" said Molly \"to clear out the stench. It didn't work. The windows on this thing are super tough. Its like a rolling prison.\"\n\n\"Plus, how would we even get back?\" pointed out Ernest, \"we don't know how to navigate the tunnels, and since no one can leave a station except in a train, probably no one can enter a station except in a train too.\"\n\n\"Huh,\" said Molly, \"okay, how about this? We all stand on one side of the train. Maybe it'll tip off the tracks or something.\"\n\n\"And why would we want to do that?\" asked Lily.\n\n\"I dunno,\" said Molly, \"just a thought.\"\n\nSome sort of commotion was going on in the car in front of them. The trio went to investigate.\n\nA man was standing in the middle of the car. He was holding some kind of clicker in his hand, there was a lot of space around him, and he was yelling at the top of his voice.\n\n\"Okay everyone, if I press this button the bomb goes off. If anybody gets any closer, or tries anything, the bomb goes off. Nobody try anything.\"\n\n\"A terrorist,\" Lily hissed to Molly, \"after all this time.\"\n\n\"Apparently,\" said Molly.\n\n\"I was going to do this when we got to the station,\" said the terrorist, \"but it looks like that ain't gonna be happening, so I'm just going to have to settle with killing you train people.\" Molly remembered that he had called himself Lucas, or something like that.\n\n\"Why am I doing this, you ask,\" said Lucas, \"simple. There is something deeply wrong about this subway system. It is the work of the devil, no doubt about it. Am I the only one who has seen twisted demons flashing past the windows on the way to work? This has to end. This demonic train ride proves it.\"\n\n\"Sacrilege,\" cried out a Trainist, and he rushed Lucas.\n\nLucas clicked the clicker, and nothing happened.\n\nLucas was rapidly restrained while muttering something under his breath about the \"dead bloody battery.\"\n\nSoon, it was over.\n\n\"Well, that was dramatic,\" said Ernest, trying to hide how relieved he actually was.\n\n\"Yeah, well we're safe now,\" said Molly, \"I think that-\"\n\nShe was interrupted by a loud explosion coming from underneath the train. The entire train shook violently, but no one was seriously injured, and miraculously, it kept on moving.\n\nApparently, these trains were more durable than Lucas had calculated.\n\nThen everyone heard a sound. It was the beautiful squeaking noise of the train's brakes being applied. They were slowing down. Cheering erupted across the train, and Molly, Lily, and Ernest got into a super excited jumping up and down three way hug.\n\n\"Are we there yet?\" asked Molly.\n\n\"Heck yes, we are,\" Lily shouted back at her.\n\nThey pulled into the station. It was completely empty. No one was around to greet them after their ordeal. Had they arrived in the wrong station in the middle of the night? It didn't matter: they were safe.\n\nThe people rushed out of the train, like a tide. They ran up the station's steps to the surface, and looked out at the world. Ernest, Lily, and Molly looked out with them. She didn't know where they were, but it certainly wasn't Earth.\n\n\"Aw crap,\" thought Molly, \"I'm going to be soo late for work.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: During a blackout you light a candle only to discover there's a spirit living in the candle's flame. The spirit is quite charming and offers sage advice, but they're very evasive when asked how they got trapped in the candle. They also REALLY want you to build them a bigger fire." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The flame of the candle flickered as it always did. I placed my chin on my stacked palms, the golden glow of the candles flame painting my face orange within my otherwise dark hut.\n\n\"Come on little guy.\" I said, taking a finger and lightly prodding the base of the candle stick, the shifting flame flickering it's light in response.\n\n\"Nothing huh?\"\n\nI was about to give up as I raised my head from the wooden table. Suddenly, the flame shifted from its orange hue to a brighter gold. I returned my gaze and watched the flicker more adamant, alive, veigle.\n\n\"Hello little spirit, I thought you weren't coming today.\" My tone humored as I lowered my gaze, staring eye to eye at the constantly shifting form of the flame. Attempting to gain solid form before collapsing into its little tear drop of ember.\n\n\"Please Johnathon. Have I ever skipped out on meeting you?\" The voice from the flame a flickering mesh of alternating voices. Jumbled into one and just as amorphous as its body.\n\n\"I suppose you haven't.\" I replied with a humored smile, the light of the flame dancing across my face with as much enthusiasm as the livid source.\n\n\"Johnathon. I am sure you have noticed how little is left of the wax.\"\n\nMy smile faded as soon as it came, a worry welling inside me at the thought of the extinguished fire, the surrounding darkness rushing in to take its place.\n\n\"I need your help. I need a fire. A great fire in-fact.\"\n\n\"And that will save you?\" I asked.\n\n\"Yes. It will revitalise me, the fueled flame will be my own fuel.\"\n\nThe spirit must have noticed my worry, a hesitant flicker betraying it. \"Johnathan, I wish to live. And I wish to still be there for you.\"\n\nI nodded. \"Tell me what I need to do.\"\n\nIn the middle of the night I carried the ring of the candle holder out into the darkness. My hand coveting the glow of the flame, protecting it from being extinguished.\n\n\"Now.\" The spirit said, its voice almost a whisper yet as clear as day.\n\nI tossed the candle into the pile of hay before me, watching the flames find immediate purchase. Like scalding whips they consumed it all, conquering more and more in its burning expenditure. The flames licked the roof with ravenous intent, the glow turning ever more fierce and unbridled.\n\nI could hear the screams, the cries of help and claims of fire. I watched as the town burnt, the dancing flames rising from the houses, attempting to burn the stars of the sky.\n\nI stared with disinterest at the rising sparks, the spreading flames claiming one house after another. A certain serenity to the pure cleansing.\n\nI lifted myself from the mound of the hill, dusting off my trousers and walking towards the remnants of the charred remains, darker than the night sky and the shadows the plagued the forest trees.\n\nA structure to my left, left brittle, collapsed in a heap of crunches and up-heaved dust. Within the town square, there it was, another candle, the only light which challenged the surrounding darkness.\n\nThe flame flicked with rejuvenated vitality, and an ensemble of voices spoke as one in unison. \"Thank you Johnathon.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: All humans have merged into a vast hive mind, except for Dave." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dave wasn't too concerned about the events of 2 years ago. So long as he still got his morning coffee with 2 cream, 3 sugar, then it would be a good day. He was glad that the consensus was that his favorite beverage would still be served at the generic coffee shop on the corner of K St. And 9th.\n\nDave also loved his job, even if he wasn't the life of the party, at least his co-workers didn't run away and seemed to listen when he talked figures. Granted they would always respond with \"We are One.\" And \"Follow the directive.\" But he liked that about them, they were predictable.\n\nDave thought nothing much could change, until he found people, or more, they found him. This surprised Dave, as when it happened, those who weren't transformed were either forced or killed, well except for Dave anyways, he doesn't like to think about it. So when he was kidnapped off the road one fine morning after having his normal conversation with his Neighbor, it came as quite the surprise.\n\nWhen Dave turned to face those who have taken him, he saw three individuals, unique in their own ways, and all looking at Dave with amazement.\n\n\"How are you alive?\" One young man finally said. Half his head was shaven, and an earring glittered in his right lobe, no doubt a message to express his individuality against this new system put in place.\n\nDave answered truthfully. \"They just never attacked me, so I just sort of stayed where I was.\" One of the girls, the driver, cracked a smile. \"The professor is going to love you, you might be the cure she's looking for.\"\n\nSoon they were out of the city, and the van slowed down. Dave always suspected their were other survivors, he just never thought he'd actually meet any. After a few hours they eventually drove up to a gate where Dave watched as they punched in a code to get it to open. They then passed two armed guards before winding down the trail a bit farther.\n\nDave was amazed with how many people were at the compound, it seems the hive wasn't as efficient as he thought, he was greeted by many different faces, every one unique. It was quite overwhelming, Dave needed a cup of coffee.\n\nHe was brought to the mess hall, before the group split off to find this professor from before. Given an expresso, Dave sat at the table patiently, hearing the survival stories of those who had to struggle to get away and to continue expressing their individuality. Dave noticed how important that was to everyone, which Dave understood, Dave was Dave.\n\nFinally, the professor met him, a older woman with a sharp face, it seemed almost as if the world was on her shoulders, and Dave thought that in her mind, it very likely was. \"My name is Professor Angela Dimerrez, just call me Ange. I heard you were actually living with them?\"\n\nDave answered truthfully. \"Well yes, they never attacked me and I saw no need to leave.\"\n\nShe looked at him with some passion and confusing in her eyes.\n\n\"How did you stay under the radar, what did you have to do to make them not notice you?\"\n\nDave thought for a moment, but the answer was clear to him. \"I never changed anything about myself.\"\n\n\"Remarkable\" she uttered under her breath as she wrote down some notes on a pad. I'm going to have to get back to you Mr.. Uh, what was your name again?\"\n\nDave smiled. \"Dave.\"\n\nThe mundane noises in the cafeteria came to a halt, the professor who has been writing down furiously came to a halt, looking up at him. \"I'm sorry?\"\n\nDave continued to smile. \"I'm Dave.\"\n\nThe woman dropped her pad, screaming to go into immediate lockdown, but it was too late. They already were inside, a few bullets and screams could be heard outside. Every shot fired causing Dave to wince. He didn't like violence, but it would be over soon. Dave was Dave, and soon, everyone would be a part of him.\n\nEdit: Corrected a few small grammatical errors" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: In the year 2020, infamous immortal criminal mastermind Cypher Grey was sentenced to life in prison without parole. It is now the year four billion, Earth has been evacuated, and Cypher is awaiting transport to a new prison in a new galaxy. But Cypher has been playing a very, very long game." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The great machine hissed and squealed as its chains rose from the depths of the Terrible Under. A team of fifty men, armed with automatic rifles and clad with heavy riot armor stood waiting as the platform rose its mile-long ascent. The tremors in the ground shook dust and small rocks free from the caverns; the men shifted uncomfortable in their neat lines. There wasn't much time left before they would need to be aboard the last Salvation Vessel. Regardless, this was a task that needed doing, and they were the pullers of the short straws.\n\nThe flat platform arrived to the top, and the caverns became suddenly quiet. A giant metal cube stood in the center; the men's weapons raised to it, several muzzles quaking in the air. Another tremor shook the world, this one more violent than the last. Time was running out and the men began weighing their options: abandon the cube or risk it all in the name of altruism.\n\n\"Let's load up and get the hell out of here!\" The warden shouted.\n\nThe loader was massive, far bigger than the warehouse variety. The men on site had had to carry each piece one-by-one into the cavern where it was assembled on site. As its engines turned over and roared into life, a smattering of applause crept from the crowd of men. It wrapped the shining cube in its metal claws and heaved it onto its forks. The cube was raised in the air and turned slowly around, the men moving to gibe the machine berth, but keeping careful eyes on the object as well.\n\nSuddenly loud shouting competed with the machine's engine. The warden waved his arms wildly to the conductor, who quieted the machine. A commotion filled the cavern.\n\n\"How did he dig through that?\"\n\nThe machine gun muzzles now waved wildly around, each man surveying the space around them. They looked to the ceiling, to the floors, into the caves, to each other. The world began to shake again--large cracks ran from the floor into the ceiling, dropping larger stones onto the helmets of the formed-up men. The warden noticed the panic on their faces. We don't have time to search the area. We need to go. Now!\n\n\"Leave it! We're leaving!\" The warden shouted to the men. The formerly straight lines were now a shamble of panicked bodies pushing and rushing to the exits. Once into the caverns they were in a single file, running to the outside, back to the ship.\n\nA rapid flurry of pops from the front of the line caused the men to drop to the ground. It was unmistakably gunfire, but the men ahead were so far ahead of those behind that each muzzle was aimed only at the back of the man in front. One after the other they turned around, their weapons scraping on the stone walls. \"We have to go back!\"\n\nMore than a few arguments in the line turned to shouting, which turned to pushing. That turned to obstacles of bodies blocking the way in or out. More pops. More shouts. Then fewer. Men trickled back into the cavern from the exit just before the world groaned a wicked voice and the exit collapsed entirely.\n\nFifteen men plus the warden stood in the chamber where the cube was retrieved. The giant chains swayed back and forth, ringing a low chime with each rattle. The chamber lights flickered as the men backed up toward one another.\n\nThe lights went out. The world quieted. There was only the sound of muffled breathing, chains swaying, and dust settling.\n\nFor a brief moment, the lights shone on again. He stood there before them, his great shriveled green body unraveling itself. He screamed a shrill noise as his tongue whipped around wildly in the air.\n\nThe lights went off again, but muzzle flashes gave a strobing illumination, painting the scene like a stop-motion animation. The creature's long, sinewy body crawled on walls of the cavern more quickly than the men could line up a shot.\n\nMore than one guard fell victim to frantic friendly fire. The warden was on the ground with his hands over his head, hoping beyond hope that one of the men would hit him. But even if they did, what would it matter? The entire reason this chamber exists is because it can't be killed.\n\nThe sharp cadence of ammunition diminished as each man met his fate. A groan here, a scream cut short there. Wet slaps hit the hard ground. Then there was silence once again. The warden pulled his head up to look around himself. His breaths were shaky and shallow; he sweat nervously and felt his stomach turn in overwhelming fear.\n\nHe began pulling himself upright, one foot on the ground, and then the other. His joints shook wildly with every movement. He whimpered involuntarily into the blackness. What now?\n\nA sharp pain entered his spine and he felt his legs life up from the ground. He tried to scream, but he couldn't. He felt every muscle pull apart, every inch of skin felt as though it was tearing at the seams. He stood up straight and began walking, only he didn't mean to be. His head jerked to one side and the other violently before settling on the exit.\n\nHe threw boulders away as if they weighed nothing, though he felt every scratch and a jagged edge on his thinning skin. He threw crushed bodies like rag dolls and dug into the hard stone with his bleeding fingers.\n\nHe picked up a gun on the way out and made for the ship.\n\n\"Warden, everything ok? We couldn't get a hold of you,\" a man in a black flight suit rushed to him. He looked at the warden's torn clothing and bleeding skin. \"Holy shit...\"\n\nPop pop pop.\n\nThe flight suited man fell to the ground as the warden stepped onto the ship, headed for the rest of humanity." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: You were accidentally summoned to another world. With no way home and no dangers in this new world you take up learning magic. A college brought you an orb of dirt in a glass ball. A voice calls you from the orb." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Evan blinked blearily in the sudden brightness of the vast, rolling green hills. Just moments before he had been on the receiving end of an absolute bitch of a phone call, getting reamed by an irate man who just wanted to load his Bible Software, and don’t you know its Sunday, and don’t you understand how important it is that I use the program I PAID for on Sunday, and why aren’t you fixing my problem, and on and on and on.\n\nEvan blithely wondered if these rolling hills were just the next signs of his brain shutting down, merging with the bucolic background of his desktop screen in the call center he spent most of his life in. He always knew Phone Support was going to be the death of him. The first sign would have been the drool of course, but after a literal hour of being yelled at today, he was well past that first stage.\n\n“Well,” he said. “If this is how I die, it isn’t the worst possible way. At least I can’t hear the fucker anymore.”\n\nEvan took the time to look around then, noting the absolutely luscious green grass stretching off across the hills. In the distance, a forest bloomed with trees just perfect for climbing, and in the opposite direction a lake so blue Evan suspected it had food coloring in the mix somewhere.\n\n“Welcome, Infinite One.” The voice shocked Evan from his contemplative reverie and he turned quick enough to lose balance and fall onto the grass. The tattooed bald woman... person... creature? Whatever it was, it stood with folded hands draped in a voluminous and pure white robe.\n\n“Uh... hi?” Evan responded. “Who are you? Where am I? Did I die? I know I didn’t get into Heaven.”\n\n“Infinite One,” the voice was softer now, almost calming in its tenor. “You have been chosen. Summoned to this plane to fulfill a duty long left vacant.”\n\n“A duty. Like... phone support?” Evan said. The being chuckled, their mouth opening wider than a human’s should to form a vast smile.\n\n“Yes, Infinite One. A bit like ‘phone support’. You will learn more in time. For now, acquaint yourself with your home, and take this to study — it shall serve you well in your role.” The being handed Evan a glass orb, shrouded in dust, smoke, and dirt. The innards swirled without any outward provocation and looking too long at it made him dizzy.\n\nWhen he looked up, the being was gone. Evan turned quickly — no way they could have run off without being seen somewhere in the hills, but there was nothing. The being was gone.\n\n— — —\n\nTime passed and Evan explored this new world: the trees were indeed perfect to climb, and the lake an exact temperature to never make him cold or over-warm. The soft dirt of the hills made for a perfect running material, and in the far distance great mountains promised snowy adventures. When he had tired of one activity, another presented itself, and when he was satisfied with them all, the light dimmed and he rested under a greater canopy of stars than he had ever known back on Earth. He quickly forgot the bald being that had spoken to him upon his arrival.\n\nBut he was not content, and ever he came back to the orb.\n\nAt first, he became dizzy within seconds of gazing into the dark glass, trying to decipher what was happening in its infinite mysteries. But time passed, and soon Evan could focus upon the orb for minutes, then hours. Soon he suspected entire days on Earth passed in his sessions with the orb. Oh, he still ran in the fields, swam in the lake, and climbed the trees of the forest. Once he even traveled to the far mountains and climbed their snowy peaks, exhilarating in its danger, but only as exhilarating as Evan would have wanted to experience back on Earth.\n\nBut he always came back to the orb. And slowly, the image began to coalesce. Swirling shadows collapsed into dark forests and foreboding mountains. The dust turned to raging oceans and the dirt formed a near perfect sphere, upon which colors, textures, and lights were painted.\n\nIt was... beautiful, and frightening, and complicated.\n\nIt was home. And there were voices, that Evan could hear now - coming from within the sphere. First a jumble, then a mass. And slowly, as Earth had emerged from the chaotic mass, so too were voices born of the cacophony.\n\nEvan picked one, and listened. It’s request was simple: stop some illness, halt the passage of its progress. Without thinking Evan responded, granting the request. The voice disappeared and another took its place.\n\nHe fell into a pattern, answering plea after request after demand.\n\nAnd time passed.\n\n— — —\n\nIt was then that the celestial being appeared again.\n\n“Infinite One,” it intoned. “Are you prepared now?”\n\n“For what?” Evan asked.\n\nThe being quirked another over large smile. “Why, for Phone Support.”\n\nEvan’s confusion must have amused it enough to provide further explanation. “Infinite One, these fields, forests, lakes and mountains are endless, crafted by that which humanity desires. A true perfection. But humanity cannot abide perfection — it withers the soul and bitters its aroma. You know yourself this is true. How quickly did you abandon your running, swimming, climbing and hiking in this paradise?”\n\nHe thought about it. “So what do I need?”\n\nThe being simply answered, “To be needed. You will serve as your predecessor served, staving off bitter eternity through service.”\n\nThe thought took a moment to come, but the being was patient this time, and eventually it did. “If this is to be eternity, why am I here? What happened to the uh... Infinite One before me?”\n\nThe smile grew wider, and he could see hints of the being’s teeth now, row upon row. “Like I said, perfection bitters a soul’s aroma. But what use is there in keeping a soul fragrant if one does not... indulge.”\n\nHorror began to rise like bile in Evan’s throat. Shakily he questioned, “And... what if you couldn’t... indulge? What if you didn’t?”\n\n“Oh, my poor, fresh, Infinite One. If you do not serve your purpose, ripen your soul, and prepare a feast for my kind, why then would we allow Earth’s existence? Why expend effort if not to reap what we sow?” The celestial being looked upon Evan, infinite knowledge and understanding in its eyes as the logic that had convinced the last God convinced the next one.\n\n— — —\n\nPerhaps there are universal truths in this universe. As to his existence on Earth, so too his existence in the other world.\n\nEvan knew phone support was going to be the death of him." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Most people only have one guardian angel. You however, have 5." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Darn it!” I yelled, cutting my leg with a razor. I tied a robe on and walked out of the shower, reaching for a tissue to stop the bleeding. My feet slid against the wet tile. Panic jumped up my throat as I hit the ground. Darkness outlined the cold bathroom and closed in, leaving the world in a blanket of black.\n\n“What the heck is wrong with you, man?”\n\nI opened my eyes to see five figures. Sheer light and warmth radiated from their bodies. One, a short, well-dressed, rather chubby guy, stepped forward.\n\n“I couldn’t care less about you, but our jobs are on the line here,” the short guy said. I identified him as the original speaker.\n\n“What, are you a hit-man or something?” I asked, standing up. A torrent of laughter burst from the short guy’s mouth.\n\n“Of course not,” answered one of the others. She was tall, dark, and exceptionally thin. Spiky strands of blonde hair flowed from her head in a gravity-defying ponytail.\n\n“In fact, our job is rather the opposite,” said a shorter, muscular girl.\n\n“We’re your guardian angels,” said an Italian-looking man.\n\nOh, crap. I was dealing with lunatics.\n\n“Do you expect me to belie-“\n\nThe fifth figure held up her hand, light dancing and flying across the air. Faces and scenes were broadcast on the rays.\n\nMemories.\n\nMy memories.\n\n“Wait,” I said, “Guardian angels? Plural?”\n\nThe Italian and the blonde shared a knowing look, and the other three stared awkwardly at the tile.\n\n“I hate to break it to you,” said the muscular girl, “but you are abnormally clumsy.”\n\nAnger climbed lightly across my vision. “That’s not true!”\n\nThe muscular girl sighed. “Show him, Elle.”\n\nThe fifth figure lifted up her hands once more, but, this time, I was shown in the light.\n\nFalling. Choking. Cutting myself.\n\n“Oh,” I said.\n\n“You’re the first person who’s ever needed more than one guardian angel,” spoke the Italian.\n\n“It’s getting to be a serious problem,” said the short guy, “Soon, there won’t be enough of us to go around.”\n\nThe others nodded.\n\nThe blonde sighed. “Listen, we have the entire world in our hands, and we can’t be monitoring you 24/7. You have to be careful.”\n\n“I’ll try,” I muttered.\n\n“That isn’t enough,” the blonde answered, “We need you to be aware. If you die before your time, it’s on us.”\n\n“I promise I’ll be careful,” I said.\n\nThe angels nodded and disappeared.\n\nI walked slowly across the wet floor and splashed water on my face. I’ve always known I was clumsy, but this was a whole new level.\n\nAfter getting ready, I grabbed a quick breakfast. The clock said 7:17. Three minutes until I had to leave.\n\n“All right,” I said, rushing to the bathroom. I held my toothbrush in one hand and the toothpaste tube in another.\n\nSticking the tube in my mouth, I twisted the cap off with my teeth.\n\nA car horn beeped from my driveway.\n\nI jumped, startled by the noise.\n\nThe cap slid back into my throat.\n\nAir stuck in my nose and mouth. Pressure built itself like a pyramid in my chest, but the cap would not exit.\n\nI thrust my hands against my stomach, willing it to break free.\n\nA cold wind entered the room, and breath reentered my lungs.\n\n“You idiot.” The short guy appeared once more, followed by the other four angels. “You better hope we still have time to-“\n\nA loud explosion sounded.\n\nThe world burned as I stood in my bathroom." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: “I’m not trying to slip you a love potion, don’t be silly! What do you mean chemistry?”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It would not be quite accurate to say Elizabeth Blake had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. A spoon of pure gold, encrusted with diamonds, would do her upbringing more justice. All her life she had luxuriated within her family’s mansion of dazzling white marble out in the countryside, supported by the labor of their cotton plantation’s loyal and industrious workforce. Indeed, the Blakes had amassed so much wealth that finding a suitable husband for their darling princess Elizabeth was like mining for gems in a pigsty.\n\nTrue, armies of men would flock to the Blake estate to court her, showering her with praise for her ginger locks, fern-green eyes, and cherry-red lips. But a proper belle like Elizabeth cared little for all those smelly, sun-weathered rednecks, and her old father cared for them even less. It was not until after her twenty-fifth birthday had passed when one worthy young gentleman, an enterprising doctor by the name of Thomas Henderson, had moved into her neighborhood from the north.\n\nAs they say, a bachelor in possession of a good fortune is highly wanted as a husband by women like Elizabeth Blake. But every time she and Mr. Henderson crossed paths, despite her best efforts to grin and bat her eyelashes at him, the boy would simply smile back and continue with his business. At most Thomas would nod and compliment her dress upon request. This she found most peculiar; how could the one marriageable man she had ever seen not fall for her charms like all those hicks before him?\n\nAll her life, every time Elizabeth had asked for something, she would get her way no matter what. She would do anything she could to win this handsome newcomer over, even if it meant venturing deep into the dark overgrown swamp that stretched beyond her estate. For within that wetland lived a young voodoo priestess named Izegbe. Elizabeth would never let herself touch this savage heathen’s sooty hand, but desperate times called for desperate measures.\n\n“O Priestess of Voodoo, do you know how to make a man fall in love with me?” Elizabeth asked. “I love no man other than Thomas Henderson, yet I fear he doesn’t love me.”\n\nThe priestess bit her lip at first, but then smiled before fetching a flask of clear liquid from her medicine cabinet. “Take this love potion free of charge, my sweet Miss Blake. Take a few strands of your hair and mix them into it, and then give it to the man you love. One drink will make him fall for you.”\n\nElizabeth went home to do as the priestess instructed. She opened the flask, wincing from the potion’s awfully pungent odor, and stirred strands of her own hair into it. She cackled with eager glee as she prepared the potion thus.\n\nThe next evening, Elizabeth went down to the local bar where Thomas was enjoying his usual drink after a hard day’s work. She handed to him the potion, wrapped with a glittery red ribbon as if it were a Christmas present. “It’s a special gift just for you, Dr. Henderson.”\n\nDr Henderson scratched his hair with befuddlement, but shrugged and opened the flask. But after he sniffed its contents, he did not take even one sip.\n\n“Why, this is none other than chloral hydrate—a common date rape drug!” he roared. “I know what you’re up to, Miss Blake! Someone call the marshal!”\n\n“No! I didn’t mean to rape you, Thomas,” Elizabeth said. “I was tricked by that sooty whore Izegbe!”\n\nAt that very moment Izegbe, who stepped forth from the shadows. “It was for good reason. You wanted a way to manipulate his feelings to benefit yourself. That, Miss Blake, is the textbook definition of date rape, and I had to trap you for it! And besides, Thomas is seeing me.”\n\nAs the police marched in to drag Elizabeth Blake away, the last she saw of Thomas Henderson was Izegbe embracing him with ebony arms and kissing him with a lover’s passion." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: After the Dark Lord conquered the realm everything turns out really damn good." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "20 years. Had it really been that long? The news crews were coming in later today to interview me.....I hope the drones can guide them in without any casualties this time. The volcano lair was...mostly dormant. When I first settled here,I never planned on visitors. At least,none I actually wanted to survive the trip. I still cant believe its been 20 years. Two decades since I finally won. All the capes were dead,and I was the absolute lord and master of the entire Earth. The hardest part of winning had been realizing that I finally had to put up or shut up. How many times had I told that insipid Captain Supreme that I could change the world if only he'd let me? And now I had. The first thing I did was cure cancer. My gift to the world to atone for taking their hero's. After that it was heart disease. A nanite in the form of a pill that scrubbed the arteries clean and extended the human life span by at least 30 years. There was nothing I couldnt fix. No one I couldnt save. And all they had to do was bow down before me...which they did. It was childs play. Everything was childs play. Everything was....boring. There were no challenges anymore. I had killed them all.\n\nIt was time to make my appearance. I lifted the gaudy tinfoil lined helmet to my head and attached my velvet cape. Christ...velvet and tinfoil. I really was an idiot. Still,its hard to change your look when you're on every piece of money in the world. The news crews had landed...only one hadnt made it past the lasers,and it was from FOX so no big loss there. As I made my way down to the landing platform,a familiar face caught my eye. Her. Of course she was here. She was the only thing the idiot and I had in common...she was the only thing in the world I still felt anything for. And she hated me. Ever since I killed her hero. That redheaded idiot of a cameraman was with her...the one who had been his sidekick a lifetime ago. I remember he had actually cried on TV the day I won...that had been pretty funny. He was older now...the years had not been kind. He looked like life had kicked the shit out of him....but she was still beautiful. Looking at her,I felt the way I did back in school. Nervous...shy....too scared to even make eye contact. For gods sake man,get it together! You're the absolute ruler of the world...you can damn well make conversation with a nosy reporter and her idiot cameraman. Besides,maybe if I was nasty enough,I could make the ginger cry again. That was something to look forward to. With my hands on my hips and a sneer on my face,I got ready to give them a monologue for the ages...and then the gingers camera exploded.\n\n....The hell??? My ears were ringing and I was flat on my back. I tasted copper and my chest hurt like hell. Whatever they had hit me with had made it past the body armor. Fuck...thats a lot of blood. Off in the distance,I hear more choppers....sounds like military. So this is how it ends? I give them the world they always wanted,make everything perfect,and this is the thanks I get? Fucking normals....I should have just let the Justice Battalion send me to the penal colony on Mars all those years ago. I could have taken that place over in no time. But she was here. So I stayed. I always thought I could make her love me,if she would only give me half a chance. If only HE wasnt in the way. Everything I had done,I had done for her. Didnt she realize? And now here she was...finally...looking down at me. God,the look on her face....how can she hate me that much? She says something,but I cant hear over the buzzing in my ears....the last thing I see before my heart breaks for good is her spitting in my face. Fine. Let them eat cake. As soon as my heart stops,the self-destruct sequences will activate. The volcano will be the first thing to go. Then the EMP's in orbit. Then the moon. If I had to go,I was damn sure going to take every single one of them with me. Maybe in the next life,she would see the light. Maybe then I could make her love me. I could make everything perfect again. If only they'd let me." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: Japanese scientists thought suppressing the gene USAG-1 would effectively lead to tooth growth. Humanity’s fate was sealed when the ramifications of unlocking this gene were truly understood." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They were called the Tooth Fairies, but they weren't cute little Fairies, they were angels of death. And everyone who caught their attention thanked whatever god was out there for them.\n\nThe virus came out of an unknown lab in Japan. The group of scientists had made some kind of breakthrough with the USAG-1 gene, something to do with tooth growth. Had whatever they were doing worked they would have been rich and famous, at least in scientific circles. Instead they unleashed the weirdest hell on earth and we're buried in nameless graves for it. They were the lucky ones.\n\nThe first cases were dismissed a tumors caused by unhealthy living in poor areas. But a story like that can only be dismissed for so long, especially when it spread beyond the poor and the homeless. When a politician now afflicted it makes the news, and man did it blow up.\n\nNews outlets dubbed it the Tooth Virus, creative right? It was considered the most virulent virus in the history of mankind. It was vicious, 100% contagious without protection, and spread like wildfire. Japan was 98% infected, and quickly it was determined that at least 48.5% of humans were infected within three days. And it got worse from there.\n\nWhen a person caught the virus there would be no immediate reaction, you immune system would see it as a normal part of your body. When it really started cooking a person would see what looked like a painful rash of acne with hard little cores. Popping these would produce a little hard core, but it wasn't pus, it was a tiny tooth.\n\nThe painful lumps on the body would grow very quickly and would eventually break open to reveal teeth. And the teeth would keep developing until a person was covered with them.\n\nUp to this point a patient could be treated with skin debridement and a vaccine. It was painful but people recovered. The problem was the people who refused treatment. See, this is where it got deadly. If a person refused treatment the teeth would fall out of their skin and the damaged tissue would heal completely, leaving no scar tissue. Instead, the virus would evolve and get into a person's brain and start creating teeth there. Within a month the victim would be dead, a skull full of teeth. During that time they would be in agony, unable to feel anything but something gnawing in their head.\n\nAnd that was scary in and of itself. The most terrifying part was that in the first stage people were highly contagious. Anyone in the area could easily catch the virus. A simple mask and hand washing and quarantining at home wild have prevented a majority of the deaths...but after Covid we all knew that too many people just didn't care...and the Tooth Virus didn't care either.\n\nThe Tooth Fairies were a special government branch created to help those in the advanced stages. They would go to the hospitals, to the wards full of screaming patients, and after a short time the screams would stop. These grim people would call the families and let them know that the afflicted family member was gone. They would give counseling, help with arrangements, find homes for children that lost their parents. They did it all.\n\nMany people hated them, they were seen as cruel and evil. They were seen as killers, and more than a few ere lynched by an ignorant mob that was too scared of reality and needs a scapegoat.\n\nBut they kept working. Finally, after a year cases worldwide were down to a handful. The governments stopped bickering, both sides realizing that they couldn't ignore yet another pandemic, and a mandatory vaccine was given out for free.\n\nI wish it had been available just a little faster. I can hear the chewing...it's not the pain that drives us mad, it's the sound of chewing...but the woman in the black coat, a tooth emblazoned on the breast, is coming through the door, so I need to go.\n\nTell my wife I love her, tell my kids I love them too. Tell them that this woman is an angel and I'm happy to go with her.\n\n..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: What a lucky day! You've found a map detailing the image of an island in the shape of a crescent. There is an X in the middle of it's arch. On it's back is an ominous riddle that seems to point to some sort of hidden treasure! But come on, there's no way that it's really cursed... right?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The sea sprayed a fine mist of salt throughout the air, light enough to be tasted with each inhalation of breath. Morgan breathed deep, grinning through his ample beard. The curvature of the island grew closer with each passing moment, and soon he would drop the anchor of his sloop.\n\nThe map was simple, and the drunk he bought it from gave no instructions. Whispers from other patrons of the bar said the wino was once a famous pirate, until a curse had befallen him; He and his partner had gone on some wild treasure hunt, and the partner never returned. Morgan didn't believe in curses, and took the tale for what it was: A ghost story to scare away the weak. He bought the treasure map from the sad-eyed drunk for 2 flagons of ale, and set about plotting his journey. He was sure that this was how he would earn his pirate name, and join the likes of Blackbeard and Captain Kidd in the annals of history. Foam coating his mustache, Morgan opened the map, and mumbled under his breath the incantation woven along its edges.\n\n\"If it be gold ye seek\n\ntrack of time you must keep\n\nthe sands will hold you,\n\nbut in a week,\n\ntrapped forever, no riches to reap\"\n\nMorgan shook his head with a grin, wiping ale onto his sleeve. Map writers always took themselves to be poets, and what really mattered was painted on the page in clear black swathes.\n\nThe x that marked the spot.\n\nThe ships anchor roughly connected with the sea floor, and the boat lurched to a stop. Water licked his boots as he pulled his dingy up on the shore, grabbing his shovel and compass. As exotic birds chirped from nearby coconut trees, Morgan set out to climb the small mountain at the center of the crescent shaped landmass.\n\nThe top of the large hill plateaued into an open plain. Something was...different up here. The salt in the air was gone, and the smell shifted to that of burning fuel and metal. Echoes of distant strange sounds filled Morgan's ears, as though steel sirens were calling him somewhere mystic and foreign. At the center of the plain was an encampment, and a tent sat squarely on the map's x.\n\nAdrenaline filled Morgan's veins, and without realizing it his flintlock had filled his hand. This was no chest buried under sand, something was off here. He approached the tent cautiously, opening one flap as gingerly as his rough hands would allow.\n\nInside sat a small table, and an hourglass. A piece of parchment sat, and it seemed unnaturally touched by the passage of time. Next to it was a message in a bottle, written on the outside was \"INSTRUCTIONS FOR YOUR ARRIVAL.\" Morgan reached for the parchment near it apprehensively.\n\n\"Turn the glass, and count the hours\n\n3 centuries pass, but you don't have the power\n\nto come back, after 7 days\n\nJust put gold in your sack,\n\ndon't become trapped in the maze\"\n\nMorgan set this down confused, and reached for the hour glass. Inscribed on its wooden frame was a number and two words: 1983. North Miami.\n\nA great spiritual foreboding filled his body as he held the instructions bottle in his hand. With his other he grabbed the hour glass. Sweat pooled on his brow, and his mind raced. Slowly, deliberately, he turned the hourglass over, and the sands began to pour from the top to the bottom.\n\nHe disappeared." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A teenage boy with depression opens a drawer and pulls out a razor blade..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I close the door behind me. My eyes are prickling, but I won't let myself cry. My nostrils are flaring, I'm stupid stupid stupid. I should have just stayed in bed. I should have just kept away from everyone, everything.\n\nI climb into bed, fully clothed, pull the covers over my head. Soon I start to sweat, I feel like I'm suffocating. It isn't enough. I stay under, until it stops getting hotter and stuffier, stops feeling worse. It isn't enough.\n\nI throw the blankets off, the lions and tigers on the cover slipping off the edge of the bed, falling to the ground, taking my pillow and my stuffed duck with them. I go and pull open the drawer which sticks, as usual, wiggling it awkwardly to convince it open. I take out the blade, stained brown with yesterday's ablution. It is my friend.\n\nSome days it's enough just to play with it, running it over my hands, arms, legs, groin. Today it isn't enough though. I hold the bare blade in my hand, clench it, letting it dig into my skin. It won't do much damage, but it does arouse a wonderful pain. It's not enough.\n\nI sit on the edge of my bed, make some little cuts on my left arm, not much more than scratches, just enough to get the blood slowly beading when I leave it alone. Then I go over a few of the cuts, again and again and again. The blood is coming quickly now, if I don't blot it often it runs down my arms, staining my sheets. I don't mind, I like the little patterns it makes. I don't feel any better though, the sick feeling still clawing at my throat, the pain still isn't enough to make me forget to be angry at myself. To hate myself.\n\nI pick a good long cut now and start running it over and over and over, having to pinch the tip of the blade to reach the bottom of the cut. I mostly only cut through fat, I'm disgusting, practically obese. The blood flows constantly now, making a large damp patch on my bed, as if I pissed myself. That could easily have happened, I'm pathetic like that. If I put my finger in the cut I can feel the bone now, a tiny layer of flesh separating my nail and it. I hurt less now, the cut drowning out the noise inside my head. It's not enough yet, but nearly.\n\nFrantically I start cutting, deeper and deeper, suddenly taking a chip out of my bone. Hahahaha. The damp patch on my bed is huge now, taking up almost half of the sheet. It's enough. I keep picking at little patches of dried blood, keeping the scabs at bay for a little while. I'm light headed, I pick up my blanket and pillow and put my head underneath. The suffocating warmth underneath is perfect now.\n\nTomorrow I'll still hate myself, and if I go out I'll spend the day being looked at and talked about and bullied, but what's under my sleeve will be there to help keep me safe. Today I can sleep, and if tomorrow happens, at least I've had enough today." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Two people have just died. They both enter the same location in the afterlife. For one person, it is their personal heaven; for the other, it is hell. Describe their arrival and first \"day\" there." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The two women couldn't have looked more different.\n\nLizzie was older, perhaps forty. Or rather, she would have been forty had she still been alive. She's wearing the same clothes she did when she died, leopard colored leggings with a tight leather skirt that slides embarrassedly high up when she walks. She's also wearing a tight, rather unflattering top and big gaudy jewelry it all topped of with her hair that is so so bleached it looks like straw. She's the kind of woman who when you see her, you know exactly what you are getting.\n\nKara on the other hand is young, twenty-three with a infant and husband at home. Unlike Lizzie, Kara dresses herself rather simply. In a pair of loose but comfortable jeans, a checkered shirt and her hair is its natural brown color, cropped short to make it easier to deal with.\n\nThe women don't speak as they wait patiently in the swirly white room. It's not quite a room, as it has no walls or ceiling, but the floor feel like it's made out of wood. Regardless, neither Lizzie nor Kara cares about where they are much, only where they are going.\n\nA small man appears. He's wearing a suit and big round glasses and is a head shorter than both of the women. He pushes his glasses up on his nose and turns his attention towards the clipboard in his hand.\n\n\"Ehem. Elizabeth Hamilton and Kara Smith?\" The man squeaks. Both women nod. \"I see here that you passed away in a car accident, you have my condolences, and that neither of you are traditional practitioners of any faith, is this correct ladies?\" He squeaks in a high pitch voice.\n\nBoth the ladies agree.\n\n\"I also see that the fault of the accident was that of Kara Smith, you really ought to drive more carefully, my young Lady.\" He adds, scribbling something on his paper.\n\n\"I'm sorry, I just had a son and he's been keeping me up all night. I must have dozed of, I really didn't mean for it to happen.\" Kara apologizes, glancing at the other woman.\n\n\"Don't.\" Lizzie says, dramatically throwing up a hand. \"Just because you couldn't keep your eyes open, didn't mean I had to suffer from it. I had my own children, and I was finally free from then, them being grown-up and all, and then you came along and killed me.\" Lizzie says furiously.\n\n\"Look, I said I was sorry.\" Kara insists, but to little avail.\n\n\"Mmmm.\" The little clerk nods. \"Accident or not, the fault was still yours. Since you have otherwise lived a relatively acceptable life, it has been decided you are going to the 23rd degree of hell. Now while...\" The clerk chimed.\n\n\"What? I am going to hell?\" Kara exclaim surprised. \"But I haven't done anything bad... I mean, except the car-accident, and that was an accident!\" The clerk looks up and frowns his nose.\n\n\"Young missie, you are guilty of manslaughter and since you haven't repented for that crime, you are going to hell. Be reassured though, as I understand it the 23rd degree is always relatively alright. More annoying than anything else. As for Miss Elizabeth, you have lived rather gluttonously, but you have compensated by saving two lives, which means you are entitled to the 11th degree of heaven.\" The little clerk chimed and Lizzie looked slightly surprised, because as far as she knew, she had never saved anyones life.\n\nAs it happened, she had been quite unaware of her feats both times. The first, she had chatted up a fellow on the buss, just out of her own boredom. That man had in fact been on his way to a rather high bridge right at that moment with the intent to commit suicide, but after speaking with Lizzie he had decided to go get some chicken nuggets instead. The other person had been a child at the park where one of her own children had attended. The child had been about to run out into traffic, subsequently being hit by a buss, but Lizzie had stopped the child and berated it for treating her daughter badly. After that the child had gone sulking under a bench instead. Both happy coincidences, but enough for her to earn some point in the grand scheme of things.\n\n\"As it happens, the personal 23rd degree of hell for Miss Kara Smith happens to be the same as the 11th degree of heaven for Miss Elizabeth Hamilton. You may now enter your afterlives.\" The clerk chimed and motioned for a red door which had not been there before.\n\nAfter sharing a look the women slowly approached the door. What on earth could be behind that door that was hell for Kara and Heaven for Lizzie?\n\nAs the door opened and the women stepped through Lizzie started smiling quite broadly while Kara moaned. They had stepped into what looked like a nightclub, a rather wild one from the looks of it. Filled mostly with middle-aged people\n\n\"Now this is what I'm talking about!\" Lizzie exclaimed and ran off to the bar where she ordered a strawberry daiquiri. She loved the excitement of these places. All the people, all the handsome men, all a few years younger than her, but not too young. The dancing and the drinking. She could not have asked for anything more.\n\nKara on the other hand crossed her arms and sighed. She had never liked nightclubs. They were rowdy and loud and it was all but impossible to keep an interesting conversation.\n\n\"I suppose it could have been worse.\" She muttered to herself as she moved to look for somewhere to sit. Worst of all, she'd have to share it with that woman for who-knew-how-long. She suddenly started wishing that she had been a devout christian, at least then she would have known what to expect.\n\nEdit: Spelling." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: {DARK} You have the power to Revive people who died within 30 minutes if killed, But you kill your wife for fun and she doesn't resurrect." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“I don’t care what you call it it’s no blessing, it’s not a power of sorts it’s a curse.” said man with a defeated look on his face.\n\n“Back when I was young and I discovered I had this thing, it was wonderful.” “At first it looked like nothing I could conjure dust from my palm. I was a laughing stock of all the other 13 year olds who got abilities far greater then mine. Although the laughing turned to fear once they found out I could reverse gods will it self and bring humans back to life.”\n\n“What will it evolve to.” “How can it get stronger then that.” They all said trying to not make eye contact.\n\n“I was then isolated because no one wanted to see what this would change into, in all honesty I didn’t want to see it either but one girl watched me from a distance. A red head named Zak, a weird name for a weird girl.”\n\n“We spent most of our time together, getting to know each other we even ended up getting married at one point. It was like heaven on earth, and who would have thought the reject from middle school would end up with a life like this. I mean heck I even got a job as a professional interrogator. Apparently people don’t like dying so much that they will normally talk if you kill them once or twice. Even with everything set out in a perfect setup for me it can all still come crashing down in one day.”\n\n“It was December 16, my mind won’t let me forget that day and the look on her face”\n\n“Have you ever wondered what it’s like to die?” She said from behind her black scarf with a slight smirk.\n\n“You can show me what it’s like right, you know to die. Would you?”\n\n“Wait wait there are so many things wrong with this. Why so out of the blue like this? This isn’t some sort of fucking game it’s nothing to joke about!”\n\n“Come on, I know your curious too. Plus once I come back I’ll make you my coffee that you love so much.”\n\n“Alright.”\n\n“She didn’t even have time to react, no time to change her expression from a smirk to a look of fear. I was trained to not spill blood when killing a target. The best way to leave no trace. I decided to give her some time so she could see what it’s like even timed it too. 15 minutes right on the dot no more no less.”\n\n“I then got down on my knees and let the dust go to revive her. Waited a minute and checked for her pulse nothing. I tried again, and again, but no matter how many times I tried she would never open her eyes. I felt something start up inside of me a pain in my chest, then I began to cry like a newborn child I cried.”\n\n“Through my almost frozen tears I saw it her expression it was no longer a smirk but a smile, like the one she had when we had first meet. The one I called “The Everything Is Ok Now” smile.”\n\n“Once I saw that smile I was determined to find a way to bring her back. The best and only way I knew how was to go against Gods will like I’ve done so many times before. But now is not the time for now I need a drink.”\n\nHey guys this is my first time doing something like this and I already know it will most likely suck and I probably over used something and we’ll grammar is not my strong suit. So I would love some criticism on it even if you just tell me it was straight up horrid I would not mind that. Opinions are meant to be heard and taken into consideration thank you for taking time to read this." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Time travel turned out to be so simple and easy someone put open source instructions on the internet. Everyone and their dog went back to change something. No one has comeback, you and the others who decided to stay try your best to survive in a mostly empty world." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "They’d all left so long ago, Jack had forgotten what the city used to sound like. He’d always complained about the noise. Sirens, horns, angry people yelling. All of it seemingly about to boil over into chaos. But now it was the silence that kept him awake. An eerie reminder that he was alone. Every so often the silence would be broken by the whir of one of those… machines. A slow groaning, gradually accelerating into a deafening boom. Another traveler lost to the past. One less person to talk to. It became clear that time didn’t work like everyone had expected. People traveled back, but nothing changed. Or at least it never seemed to. He couldn’t be sure. But no one ever returned.\n\n\n\nFood was starting to get hard to come by now that most of the people had gone. Jack had started kicking in doors of the surrounding apartments of his high rise to get supplies. It wasn’t something he would have tried a week before. If he’d broken his ankle, it would need to heal that way. There certainly wasn’t anyone around to fix it. He’d gathered enough canned food to last him a couple of weeks, but he stopped looking after apartment 12C. He couldn’t forget the smell. When the door broke open on the third kick, the stench poured from the room like hot molasses. Jack had fallen to his knees and vomited before he knew what happened. When he had composed himself, he saw the machine. Just like the other apartments, it sat empty. Its passenger lost through time. In a reclining chair next to the machine lay a decomposing body. Jack could tell the woman had been old. Too old to take care of herself it seemed. The caretaker had clearly jumped through time, leaving the woman behind. Left alone to slowly starve. Jack stared for a while, breathing through his shirt. He wondered if the woman had been abandoned, or if her traveler had left when the instructions first came out. Back when people thought they could change the future. Maybe they were trying to do some good. The fools. The first adaptors, all of them fools. And he couldn’t help but think of Susan.\n\n\n\nShe had been idealistic, and he loved her for it. But Jack was cynical. He didn’t think it would work, but Susan was set on proving him wrong. ‘We can finally make an impact’ she’d said, pleading with him. ‘We can fix things.’ But he’d argued back ‘things aren’t so bad! At least we have each other.’ But she didn’t seem content. Tears had welled in her eyes. ‘Don’t you understand? I can see her again. Maybe I can save her.’ And there was no more arguing. She stepped through the door, and by the time he decided to go after her, she had vanished into the crowd. Back when there was a crowd. He’d found her door unlocked when he went to her apartment the next day. There was no one there. When he touched the machine it had been warm. Susan was an early adopter.\n\n\n\nJack held out for 8 more weeks. He had hated every person that had stepped into one of these horrible things. Every time he heard the boom of another person falling through time, his rage grew stronger. He hadn’t seen another person for 3 weeks when he finally began to teeter on the edge of insanity. Jack had traveled through the city streets in search of another person. Eventually he screamed at the buildings until he lost his voice. No one responded. Only the wind. He was alone.\n\n\n\nAnd then it came to him. Maybe he could fix it. Maybe he could go back and destroy the plans before they were ever posted. He’d make sure the machines could never be made. He’d make sure Susan never left him. He’d fix it. He had to. He couldn’t be alone anymore.\n\n\n\nJack always told himself he’d never consider it, but here he was, staring at one of the machines, door ajar. He was sure the power grid wouldn’t last for much longer. It was now or never. He stepped into the machine and told himself he was doing it for Susan. The machine groaned, the sound slowly intensifying. The world outside the machine seemed to flicker and fade. The sound became deafening. Jack closed his eyes, palms pressed against his ears. He tried to remember Susan’s face.\n\n\n\nThis is how the world ends. By abandoning the future." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You are the Princess Guard. Your job isn't to protect the princess from the world. Your job is to protect the world from the princess." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Explosions reverberated through the hallway as Princess Tabitha's minions surged out of her room. The captain of the Guardsmen anticipated another siege in reverse, but couldn't fathom the sheer number of minions she could summon. One of the Guardsmen ran up beside Captain Thalleous and exclaimed, \"Captain Thalleous, sir! The first wave has completely broken through the initial defenses! The hallways are lined with lifeless bodies. This siege is far more grave than the last!\"\n\n\"Hold firm and dispatch reinforcements! We mustn't allow her to claim victory today!\"\n\nThe guards swiftly reacted and engaged in combat with the advancing minions. These were infernal creatures, conjured by a skilled sorceress, and the magnitude and size of her army alone was no laughing matter. Despite the high level required to summon them, the minions rode upon brutish-looking steeds, hurling firebombs as they burst out of the room. Their piercing shrieks only added to the chaotic scene. Their blades were savage, designed to inflict maximum bloodshed with each strike. From within her chambers, the princess's voice rang out, \"Slay them all! Let the fools in my father's realm taste the cruelty they have imposed upon me!\"\n\nAlthough she was merely a child, Princess Tabitha possessed an uncanny and innate ability to summon creatures from the ethereal realm. Many speculated that she was a demonic halfling, but such gossip had been outlawed by the king. According to the law, Tabitha was deemed the king's legitimate child, and any insinuation suggesting otherwise was considered an insult to the queen, punishable by death. Nevertheless, her fiery temper lent credence to these speculations.\n\nToday's outburst was triggered by the king's refusal to grant Tabitha an escort to the local candy store. While this was not the first tantrum she had thrown, it was Captain Thalleous's first experience, as the previous captain of the Guardsmen had met an unfortunate end during her last attempt to escape. More screams echoed from Tabitha's room as she shouted, \"And tell Daddy I'm truly running away this time! I won't return, no matter how dark and cold the night becomes!\"\n\nCaptain Thalleous knew that these claims were baseless. After every successful escape, the princess had always returned shortly after dinner when hunger and coldness set in. Her fear of the dark also played a role in her swift return. The captain's contemplation was interrupted by another series of explosions in the hallway, jolting him into action. He turned to his second-in-command. \"Gregor! Summon more reinforcements! I will join the fray!\"\n\n\"Aye, sir!\" With that, Gregor swiftly departed to rally additional troops, while Thalleous valiantly charged into the hellish landscape crafted by Tabitha.\n\nThalleous was immediately confronted with a swift onslaught of hellish scouts, who acted as advance troops for the rest of the enemy army down the hallway. This small group consisted of about five ghoulish-looking monsters, smaller in stature but incredibly agile. Thalleous skillfully parried the initial strikes, but he quickly found himself overwhelmed by their coordinated attacks. Nearby soldiers rushed to assist Thalleous, but they were also entangled in their own intense battles with advancing enemies.\n\nInevitably, one of the scouts leaped onto the captain's back and began relentlessly pounding on his helmet. Despite this distraction, Thalleous managed to parry a swing from a scout on his left and swiftly decapitated the attacker. The remaining scouts screeched in anguish for their fallen comrade and launched themselves at Thalleous, fiercely tackling him to the ground while mercilessly pummeling him. In this moment, he was utterly defenseless, consumed by terror as he realized that at any moment, another strike could come from any nearby beast beyond their clutches, abruptly ending his life. All he could do was await the fatal blow.\n\nHowever, instead of the expected strike, Thalleous heard the sound of multiple arrows whizzing past his head. The scouts pinning him down suddenly went limp. A detachment of archers, dispatched by Gregor, had come to his aid. With the assistance of a soldier, Thalleous was lifted back to his feet.\n\nThalleous had no time for reprieve as another set of beasts charged in, prompting more parries and counterstrikes from the captain. \"Deploy the first set of traps!\" the captain yelled out to anyone who could hear his order.\n\n\"But sir! There are still men down the hall!\" a soldier cried out.\n\n\"I said what I said! Traps, now!\" After barking his order, a man pulled a rope on a nearby wall. Suddenly, the roof further down the hall burst open, unleashing a vat of hot oil all over anyone unfortunate enough to be standing under the false roof. A good portion of the princess's army was crippled by this defense, as well as any surviving members of the Guardsmen near the princess's door. A guilty feeling welled up in the captain's gut. But he knew he only did what he had to in order to ensure the rest of his men survived.\n\nThe captain barked out more orders. \"Men! Retreat down the hall! Archers, hold off the advancing troops! We're going to deploy the second trap!\"\n\nWith that, the men raced back down the hall. Once most of them passed the threshold, a second wave of spikes and hot oil doused the pursuers. The Guardsmen then rushed back down the hall, continuing to fight back the demonic onslaught. Another yell could be heard from the princess's chamber. \"No! They're hurting my army! Xulgoth the Defiler! I call upon you to personally dispatch that wretched captain!\"\n\nSuddenly, the largest beast from the demonic army started approaching the front line, beelining straight for the captain. Some soldiers attempted to engage battle with it, and the beast swatted them away with its mighty mace, as though they were nothing but annoying flies. Archers began to focus their fire on the beast, but arrows seemed to only annoy it. It picked up one of the deceased soldiers at its feet and flung his corpse at the archers. Thalleous braced himself for the fight that was about to ensue." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Her job working as a living statue sounded so easy on paper, \"don't move until your shift is over.\" The pose wasn't uncomfortable, nor was she particularly shy, being nude in public. The issue was, as a public \"artwork\" anyone could touch her all they want and she still wasn't allowed to move." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She walked up to the swing in the center of the room of the adult art studio, she took off her top tucked her upper thigh length skirt behind her as she sat on the swing. Her left hand grabbed the chain just above her head thumb down just like she was told. She placed a whistle in her mouth, her right hand grabbed chain on her right above her head, also thumb down. Her feet dangled toes barely touching the floor.\n\nShe could see the cameras on her all over the room. She was in her pose. She walked through a bunch of art rooms to get to this one. Paintings that looked overly complex. So a monocolor shape off center. Abstract sculptures. A bathtub cut in half. Now she was art. And the longer she stayed, the more it paid. She could whistle, but not move. If she whistled twice she needed water, and three times to stop, because a gallery goer had done something inappropriate and she could no longer continue.\n\nPeople came by, looked at her. Put there face in front of hers. Some poked her. One guy got inappropriately close straddling her. She whistled once loudly, he got startled and his friends laughed at him. He called a bitch under his breathe as he left.\n\nThen she came. The Artist. The Artist randomly seemed to be measuring her. Her arm, the length of her shoulder blade to floor. She couldn't see all the measurements. The Artist then asked if she was okay. She thought yes, and blinked, and briefly smiled slightly. The Artist then said \"Thank you for doing this.\" And walked off.\n\nMore people came and went. A few more daring. A woman crouched in front of her crotch and went she's not wearing underwear, she then brought her boyfriend to look. After that almost everyone went for the upskirt look.\n\nSoon after the Artist came back. She was shown some colorfully decorationed pieces. They looked like 2d wine glasses, two were about wine glass sized, the other 3/4ths as tall as she was. That one was placed under her armpits and under her breasts, it hadna stem that connected into the floor. The other two into her feet. She understood now, they were artistic stands, they took her off the ground a bit. It made her more into a swinging motion. But with the way they were made they also made her feel more comfortable. The Artist looked at her and she blinked once.\n\nPeople were watching. The Artist kept coming in with stands, scaffolding, all colored, and designed. Some clasped around a wrist, or her ankle. Some were connected to others, some weren't, some that weren't were eventually connected to others. She usually felt pressure on her being relieved.\n\nShe was now almost in a horizontal swinging position. Slowly the Artist had rotated her. As the artist would leave and get more pieces, or take some away as they were no longer needed, or take more measurements people would come and inspect her.\n\nThe only thing that was uncomfortable about the rotated position was she was now lower. Seated on the swing her head was stomach high for most people. Now her head, and whole body were about crotch height. So far a lady had flashed her and a man had pressed the bulge in his jeans against her forehead.\n\nThen the Artist attached four pieces to the ceiling and to her. The Artist then removed the swing chains and the swing seat. The Artist then removed her supports, it was like she was flying. It was an amazing moment. The Artist then looked at her and said, \"Before the last part take a drink.\" The Artist held out her hand under her mouth. She spit the whistle out. The Artist pulled out water bottle and inserted it into her mouth. \"Bite and then drink.\" As she bit she felt water squirt into her mouth, the Artist the pulled straps from the bottom of the water bottle and wrapped them around her head. The Artist unscrewed the water bottle leaving the ring gag her mouth. The Artist then cut off her dress.\n\nShe looked around and she wasn't the only one naked. She was completely exposed. Even her fucking hands were held in the same circle grip by rings and casts that were in on the chains. As the naked people began to walk in the Artist said \"I call this piece living statue, swing of pleasure, enjoy.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: After getting new job in office, you soon realized all of your coworkers are supernatural beings and you are human... or at least you think so..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I couldn't take my eyes off of Jordan. He weaved between every beam of sunlight seeping through the windows. I had never noticed it before, and I wasn't sure when it started - I just knew that I could see, right now, his persistence to stay away. Thinking about it, I realised always stayed behind at work during the summer months. Was he waiting for the sun to set before leaving the office?\n\n\"Hey, what are you staring at?\"\n\nMy focus on Jordan was interrupted by the familiar voice of Caroline. She had become a good friend in the office, and we had been out for drinks together in a group twice already.\n\nI chuckled, and jokingly said, \"I think Jordan is a vampire!\"\n\nShe gave a smile back and forced a small, awkward laugh. \"You're joking, right?\"\n\n\"I just find it funny that he's avoiding the sun.\"\n\nHer smile washed away. \"You think that's funny? I thought you were more tolerant than this. What's gotten into you?\"\n\n\"Oh, wait, I'm sorry, does he have some sort of condition? I didn't realise, I --\"\n\n\"Dude, he's a vampire. Every vampire avoids the sun.\"\n\nI took a moment to process what she had just said. When my brain failed to process it, I found myself just chuckling. She was clearly joking, right?\n\nShe rolled her eyes and started to walk away, so I stood up and went after her.\n\n\"Caroline, wait - What do you mean?\"\n\n\"What are you confused about? He's a vampire. It's no more confusing than how I'm an alien from Pluto.\"\n\nI didn't say a word, so she broke the silence that followed.\n\n\"You...do know that, right?\"\n\nYet again, she had to be the one to break the silence.\n\n\"Oh my god you're a human aren't you?\"\n\nI forced myself to break the silence this time, but I could only get a single word out - \"...Yes.\"\n\nBefore I knew it she was dragging me into the unoccupied meeting room. Along the way, she walked past one of the managers, and said \"We have a fleshling.\" - \"Again?\", he replied puzzlingly.\n\nShe sat me down. \"First of all, I'm telling you upfront, you can't work here anymore. We'll pay you your salary for a year so that you don't try to raise an unfair dismissal.\"\n\n\"Oh, uh, thanks.\"\n\n\"Second of all, why on Earth did you want to work here? We're a company that writes reports on the average use of staples.\"\n\n\"I don't know, it just seemed like something I'd be good at.\"\n\n\"They're staples, STAPLES for god's sake,\" her voice sounded both annoyed, yet understanding, \"I'm sorry for yelling. But we're an intentionally boring company. We are supposed to be the kind of job nobody ever dreams of having, because our job title is a subtle and secret way of saying 'Hey, I'm supernatural.'\"\n\n\"Oh my god, you're supernatural?\"\n\nShe looked completely done.\n\nI spoke up again, \"Sorry, I just thought you were kidding. I'm a little bit in shock here... Wait, so you're from Pluto?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I am. I always wondered what you were, to be honest, but just felt rude asking. Didn't expect you to be human, the literal thing I eat.\"\n\n\"You eat humans? Oh my god I'm going to die.\"\n\n\"Oh calm down I'm not going to eat you.\"\n\n\"Because we're friends? That's sweet I guess.\"\n\n\"No - In my culture, killing and eating your friends is actually encouraged. But we only eat humans between the ages of 23-25. Outside of that range the meat just isn't right.\"\n\nI found myself hung up over those words. In an instant, my view of this whole place had changed.\n\nMy boss came in, holding some documents. \"So, I just took a look, and...\"\n\nHe read the document for a moment, double-checking something.\n\n\"...the Natural-Diversion Device is working fine. Only supernatural beings can see this building.\"\n\n\"But I can see it. I'm literally inside of it right now.\"\n\nMy boss' gaze met with Caroline's. She seemed to finally not know how to break the silence, so my boss took that place.\n\n\"I think we need to look into your ancestry. You might be one of us after all.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: With the human fertility rate plummeting to zero nature has come to our rescue - a third gender has begin to appear with the ability to catalyze a successful reproductive cycle." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "- Sterility, it began in small waves affecting at most a few hundred healthy human beings at a time. Some of the young and newly sexually matured enjoyed the prospect at first. They took it with a grain of salt, sex with no possibility of pregnancy, what a world. Scientists were baffled by it everything appeared to be functioning normally at the anatomical level. No matter what tests were run human beings appeared to be in peak sexual fertility in 99.7% of cases. Still even when in the case of in vitro fertilization, sperm and egg cells refused to coalesce into a new zygote.\n\n- After a full year passing from the point of discovery, humanity had exhausted its scientific approach for discovering why no new children had been born. Many were in a state of panic and many more turned to religion for guidance. Most religious leaders believed God was punishing us for the way we treated our planet. Others blamed the types of chemical insecticides we used when growing food. This was all speculation, after a year we were no closer to solving the riddle them we were of finding out how the message was delivered in the first place. Then a miracle happened.\n\n- Approximately four hundred different cities around the world reported single pregnancies from young mothers who oddly enough were thought to be virgins. Scientists and Doctors could not prove them wrong. It appeared as though these women were producing A-sexually. A process though not attainable by our species. The implications were staggering and it led to many women being praised for saving the species and revered much the same as a movie star. Some were born in more unfortunate areas and were tortured or killed by those believing their immaculate conceptions to be fraud and not having the medical experience to check for themselves. Still they went on and of those four hundred plus women who produced A-sexually for the first time in human history had for the most part normal three trimester pregnancies. Nine months of waiting for the expecting new mothers and a new chapter of Humanity. The thought that we might live on despite nearly 100% of Humans being sterile made this the biggest news spectacle In history. The news media ignored war footage for these women. They ignored famine, disease and the fighting over resources for these women. Peace treaties never thought possible were made and many believed a new green society should be made to keep these disciples of Humanities future healthy and happy as they grew to sexual maturity. Nobody knew if they would be A-sexual themselves or even sterile like the rest of us.\n\n- Then the month of expecting came. More live births were shown on tv than the entirety of media television with more views then the majority of Super Bowl's or even the series finale of M.A.S.H. Everyone was so excited to see happy new girls and boys coming into the world. Then they came. They were all born hermaphroditic. Every last one of these children had the characteristics of both men and women; a concrete joining of the species. Many older people were shocked and appalled . More saw this as the beginning of true gender equality as all Humans would be the same sex now. Most of the new mothers rejected having their children studied so soon After their birth and that resulted in a five year agreement with the United Nations where all expenses for the mother and child were paid for and then when the child reached the age of five. Certain medical agencies became involved that would sample the child's DNA for mapping. Blood to determine the type and what properties it may include and digital mapping of their reproductive area and samples of their reproductive cells to establish viability.\n\n- What they discovered was that these children had extremely unique properties to them. While the new Human children contained both sets of sex organs upon closer examination it became apparent that they had no reproductive cells by which to procreate with. This was the most disheartening news and the world as a result of discovering that the children were barren fell into a web of disparity that covered the globe. That was it Humanity was finished and nothing could change that. The Earth was quiet for once as we slowly began to accept out faith and repent if you so chose.\n\n13 solar revolutions passed...\n\n- The world had largely forgotten about the young children they had staked so much of their hope on. Those kids had grown into strong adults sharing the characteristics of both men and women; they were intelligent, kind, and balanced in emotion and sexuality. Pity they couldn't reproduce they would have been such a great addition to the species. Then it happened. One of the young 18 year olds named Jesse, (a gender neutral name was given to all the children born in that time) had a unique experience of their own. (s)he was enthralled in a relationship with two much older members of the previous generation of Humans; a man and a woman. A threesome of the weirdest sorts for our time, but being that Jesse had the experience of both a man and woman it worked well. The three were in love despite the gap in age.\n\n- something happened that would take science many years to explain. Jesse began having morning sickness and it was soon determined that (s)he was in fact pregnant. This was until that point thought impossible by modern biological scientists. An ultrasound was taken and it was indeed confirmed that a miracle of modern science was growing within Jesse. Evolution had found a way yet again and the world applauded while hoping and praying for a fertile child to be born. The collection of cells normally called a zygote were nicknamed the Appleseed of Humanity by members of various religious and Humanitarian organizations and some even referred to Jesse's womb as the Garden of Eden. The pregnancy went quite normally despite being the first of it's kind. Nine months of waiting with all of Humanity holding its breath.\n\n- A child was born on the 25th of December and was indeed a healthy and happy infant Girl. The world erupted with happiness that once again our species had hope. The three happy parents named their child Eden. In the coming months of examination it was finally determined how Jesse despite being barren had been able to conceive Eden the miracle baby. They knew Jesse was hermaphroditic, what they did not know was that Jesse was the start of a brand new sex of humanity. One that was created to take in the reproductive material from sex with both a man and a woman and combine them together. Jesse worked like an incubator and was the final stage of the process that combined the genetic material of three different sexes of Humans into the first non sterile child in many generations. No one knew why the Mothers of this third sex had become pregnant it was a divine mystery to most, but once it became apparent that the new generation could reproduce only with both a man and a woman things became better. The young generation all sexually mature paired up in threes with man and woman and took their places as the saviors of Humanity. The world would get better. Gender equality was assured and the new Humans were intelligent and strong they would do us well. Now if only we had a name for them." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: After several first contacts, we arrive to a conclusion: we are the minority. Practically every alien we encountered, is a hive/pack intelligence who view us as an intriguing oddity, a species with members capable of functioning on their own." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I sat at the bar at the Edge of the Universe, the name of the establishment, not the literal edge of the universe. I don’t make nearly enough as a cargo shipper to actually go to the edge of the universe. Instead I enjoyed a stiff drink after a long shift and few light years. The Krotoans and Asterans entered as self-contained groups, taking several booths and eating the same meals. They viewed humans as dangerous, unpredictable renegades so none ever wanted to speak to me.\n\nAs I was preparing to leave, a Kyrchen sat by me. I liked the Kyrchens; all their minds are linked together, so they can travel independently and they’re particularly curious. They’re the only species who really talks to a normal human like me.\n\n“Abbot,” it spoke, lacking any defined gender. “we spoke once before.”\n\n“Yeah,” I replied. “I remember talking to one of your drones. How’s it going?”\n\n“Good,” it replied. “May I purpose the arrangement of mutual questioning?”\n\n“Excellent!” it spoke with the delight of a five-year old. “First, I have since learned that humans need to expel waste. How does an individual decided when and where?”\n\n“Well, personally, I just feel it down south, if you know what I mean.”\n\nIts confused expression told me that it did not know what I meant.\n\n“Anyway,” I continued. “For where? Us humans have entire rooms dedicated to porcelain fountains that gently taxi our waste away. At least we do when we’re rich. I just have a bottle in my ship.”\n\nIts face scrunched as it tried to unravel the meaning of my words. I loved confusing the little guy.\n\n“What about you?” I asked. “I know you have linked minds. Are you all just one person with billions of bodies or just billions of bodies with one mind?”\n\n“Are you aware of what your cells are doing?” it asked triumphantly as if it answered my question.\n\n“Uh…yeah. Good point.” I replied. It took its turn to confuse me.\n\n“Isn’t it terrifying?” It asked. “All you humans fly around the cosmos not for a greater being or for your queen. You all have different agendas and motivations, likes and dislikes. Amid all that chaos, you don’t have an entire species supporting your goals. Some humans even sabotage the wills of others. How do you do it? How do you do so much all alone?”\n\n“Well that’s the magic part isn’t it?” I asked. “We’re all so different, but that’s what makes us so interesting. When I meet a Kyrchen, I know exactly what I’m getting myself into. But humans? It’s that uncertainty that makes it all so exciting. Talking to another human is like opening a present. Sometimes you find an old, worn pair of socks, but sometimes you get sweet new spaceship. It makes it all the more wonderful when you finally meet that special someone…”\n\nI trailed off as I thought of home. I thought of her.\n\n“I see…” it spoke suddenly with uncertainty. “Unfortunately I must go now. But as always, it was enlightening.”\n\nIt waddled through the bar door as I sat at the bar and ordered another drink. I pulled her photo from my pocket as it gave me the inspiration I needed to complete my job." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 400-500 words. Prompt: After a heavy night of drinking, you wake to the sound of your phone constantly ringing. Upon answering, you hear, \"Oh my god...sir we've got one! Alright, man, look...they're all dead. All of them. I don't know how you're alive, but we need your help...or the rest of the world is gone too....\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What the actual....\n\nWhat is that screeching sound? What the... Seriously... Can't I just... For fucks sake... People, PEOPLE!!!! not answering a call for once isn't the end of the fucking world!!!! Go pester someone else...Ah... They got it and... Or..\n\nNot AGAIN???\n\n\"Fuck off! I haven't been in an accident lately, I don't have PPI stuff and no, I DON'T WANT INSURANCE!!!! I...\"\n\n-Alright, man, look... They're all dead. All of them. I don't know how you're alive, but we need your help... Or the rest of the world is gone too!!!\n\n\"Are you mental? Go pester someone else. Seriously. I have the mother of all hangovers, the end of the world is nothing compared to this. Sod off.\"\n\nThere's just no shame in people nowadays. They don't even use blocked numbers anymore.... Ah well, toilet it is then... Before heading back to bed for another 8 hours or so.\n\nDamn.. my head... I'm never drinking again, I swear.\n\nIt's awfully quiet out there though, what day is it anyway? Friday? Thursday?? Thursday. 9am. Rush hour. And it's quiet... And it's..\n\n\"Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuuck. Fuuuuuuck. This can't. This. No. What.... What????????? No!!!!\"\n\nPhone. Phone. Now. Where. Bed. Pillow. It's ringing. That number. Again. Mum. Dad. Kyle. Fuck. Fuck.\n\n\"What did you just say? Why are you calling! Fuck. There's dead people outside everywhere, crashed cars, buses, fuck why did you call me? What happened? Who the fuck are you? What the hell is going on????????????\"\n\n-Sir, please, calm down, sit down, please, breathe, there's nothing you can do right now if you're panicking. Please sir... Please, my name is Anna, Lieutenant Anna Sauber, and I'm with NASA, or, well, what you'd call NASA back then, ehm, now. I'm calling you because, well, you're the only one still alive on the planet today... And we need to know why so we can prevent it from happening.\n\n\"How... How can I be the only person still alive if you're talking to me, if I'm talking to you. And how will you prevent this from happening if it already fucking happened, whatever it is, and what I'd call NASA????? And....\"\n\n-Sir, normally I'd take the time to explain things to you more carefully, or, well, I say normally, but this is a first for me too, so I'm just going to cut straight to it: I'm Anna, my great grandmother was on the ISS when Earth got struck by an alien weapon killing all those down there and now, 100 years later we found a way to try and find out what happened with the help of another alien race that came to our rescue but missed the attack by a week... Nice to meet you, how may I call you?\n\n\"Ehm... Remi... Which is somewhat fitting at the moment I guess.... So.. now what??? Fuck...\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: a space station with a a crew of around 500 are now completely lost in deep space with no way of communication to earth." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“What the hell do you mean, it’s just not working? It’s been two days, why is this still a problem?” Captain Graves looked over the brim of his coke-bottle glasses down at the communications officer.\n\n“Well, the outgoing signal is sending, as far as we can tell, but we aren’t receiving anything we’d expect, not even the heartbeat signals. Telemetry all looks nominal.”\n\n“So our receiving antenna is down?”\n\n“Well, not quite. We’re receiving something, just not sure what it is.”\n\nCaptain Graves waved his hand, dismissive of the officer. “Well let's hear it then. Put it on.”\n\nThe communications officer glanced at one of the maintenance technicians who had helped with the diagnostics. Both wore a face of deep concern, and Graves thought the technician might be sick.\n\nThe technician broke the tense silence first. “With all respect, sir, I don’t think that’s wise.”\n\nThe woman may as well have smacked him in front of everyone. The room went silent, everyone waiting to see what would happen.\n\n“Say again?”\n\n“I just mean it may be best to keep the contents of the incoming signal on a need-to-know basis, sir.” She looked around, indicating without saying that the other forty people might be better off not knowing.\n\n“Very well. My quarters, then. The rest of you, keep investigating the issue. Power cycle the whole thing if you need to. Without comms up, we’re as good as dead out here, and there’s not a thing anyone on Earth can do about it if they don’t know.”\n\nThe three walked, the Captain walking with chest high. He was a mammoth of a man, almost seven feet tall, and loomed over the other two who walked behind him. In a hushed voice, laced with malice, he asked, “Tell me, you two. Do either of you know the punishment for insubordination on this ship?”\n\nTheir silence told him they both knew it very well.\n\n“Then you had better have a damn good reason for that little disagreement we had back there.”\n\nThe two trembled, and Graves saw the technician glancing around over her shoulders. Whatever they were scared of, for once, it was something other than the captain.\n\nThey entered his spartan quarters; in it was a plain cot, a thin blanket over the cold steel in place of a mattress. Next to it was a desk with a small computer that he used for classified work and captain’s logs, and a closet with eight sets of matching captain’s garments. Sitting at the terminal, a glowing set of keys appeared on the surface of the desk.\n\nThe technician leaned over, typing a few keys. “Do you want headphones for this?”\n\n“No, let’s hear it.”\n\nBehind him, he heard the door shut. His hand found a knife under the desk, resting on it in case these two runts were attempting some half-hearted mutiny, but the terror on the communications officer’s face told him he had nothing to fear. Not from them, at least.\n\nThe technician took a deep breath, then leaned forward, pressing a few more keys.\n\nThe room filled with a low humming noise, a sound like being underwater. It swirled, rolling and shifting. “You got all worked up over some noise?”\n\n“Shh. You don’t hear it?”\n\nGraves listened close, closing his eyes to amplify the sound in his mind. There it was, deep under the noise. A faint clicking noise; there were two noises, one high and one low, alternating in an uneven pattern. He listened for several seconds when his mind caught a faint voice, a rumbling, rasping voice that bellowed just on the edge of audible.\n\n“Elias Conrad.”\n\nThen the clicking resumed, still faint in the sea of noise.\n\n“Who’s Elias Conrad?”\n\n“One of the engine mechanics, sir. Currently on ice.”\n\n“Okay, and who the hell is sending us this message? Home?”\n\n“No sir. It’s coming… well, it sounds like it’s coming from much further out, and from the wrong direction. Dark zone.” The timid look on the man’s face indicated he knew how outrageous that answer was. There was no one there to send the message, and the black hole there would have swallowed up any signal rather than letting it bounce out.”\n\nIn the buzz, he heard another name, Elizabeth Johnson this time. That one he knew. She had died in a particularly grizzly way, violent decompression was the technical term for it. The seventh death onboard since they left home, the first accidental rather than natural causes.\n\n“And the clicks?”\n\nThe communications officer looked at the technician, waiting for her to speak. She gulped, then said, “Well, it took a while, but… it’s binary. High clicks are ones, lows are zeros. If it was only a few names, we wouldn’t have figured out what they meant, but it’s going through every name on the ship, on a loop.”\n\n“And?”\n\n“Well, best we can tell, they’re times. And for the seven we can confirm, they seem like it’s a time in seconds from something, but the differences line up. We think…” One last nervous look, one last pleading to be relieved of the task of delivering the news, then “We think they’re times of death.”\n\n“Well seeing as only seven of the people aboard are dead, that seems like a bit of a stretch.”\n\n“If we’re right, the times for everyone else haven’t happened yet. But they will.”\n\nGraves looked at the two. If these idiots were trying to turn that woman’s death into some kind of sick prank, some attempt at humor towards a humorless man, he would have them in the brig for months just to prove his point.\n\n“Okay, then, who’s next?”\n\n“Morgan Rexley. As of now, her time would have passed two minutes ago.”\n\nOn cue, a red light clicked on over the computer. A small screen next to it read “Crew death reported. Corporal Morgan Rexley. Cause: Cryosleep power failure.”\n\nIf this was a prank, it was elaborate, he would give them that.\n\n“Two more in the next five minutes.”\n\nThey sat in silence, listening to the names and clicking, waiting. Sure enough, two more death reports came in. Both the same cause. Graves was starting to sweat; he was not one who felt fear, only resolution, determination.\n\n“Alright, so it’s a death clock. That’s no big deal, right? We just don't tell them.”\n\n“Well, sir… Knowing isn't really the issue. We computed times for everyone on the list. Of the ship manifest, twelve die today, including those that already have. By tomorrow night, there’s three left. The three of us.”\n\nGraves chewed on the inside of his lip, mulling it over. There were over 500 on board, each one his responsibility. He was no master of lie detection, but he could tell when people were scared, and these two were outright terrified. They were telling the truth, or at least what they thought the truth was.\n\nWith a deep sigh, he found his voice again. “Alright, then. Gets the comms back online. That's not a request, it's an order. You have four hours.”\n\n“Sir, we have to tell the crew, we have to—“\n\n“Not a word of this to anyone. Would only cause a panic. Have the power engineers in the ice rink check their levels if they aren’t already. And while you’re at it, have the extra storage room in the cargo bay cleared. Shoot the junk into space if you have to.”\n\n“Storage room, sir?” The communications officer sounded like a mouse, his voice a whisper.\n\nGraves produced a flask labeled EMERGENCY from within his vest, knocking the entirety of the contents back in one long swig. He could not bring himself to make eye contact when he said it. “Well, kid, if you’re right, we’re going to need somewhere to put everyone.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You work for a company of assassins. Your job: Make it look like you are the only one so that the other assassins can remain anonymous." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He’d been in worse cells in worse places. The slate gray walls and dim lighting were heaven compared to rotted brick and darkness, every moment wondering when your next ass kicking was coming. Here they had some sort of law and order. A system of “justice” that allowed him to be relatively unharmed, and even fed if you can believe such a thing.\n\nBy his estimation he’d been there a little over 13 hours. That was time he could’ve done standing on his head, but since he was probably going to be held for the next day and a half he decided to stay seated. He could if he wanted to though.\n\nThe reality was he wouldn’t be found guilty. He was a scape goat who had never really taken a dive. There was no need to actually fall on his sword. His role was simple: do your job and draw attention, so that others may remain in the shadows. A position he was perfectly suited for, as he rather liked being the center of attention. At this time he was going through songs he knew in his head, waiting for detective whoever to come ask him more questions about the two stiffs chilling in the morgue.\n\nA part of him knew that one day his luck would run out. After all his job necessitated a certain level of notoriety. From the LAPD to NYPD, Scotland Yard to the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force, CIA, NSA, FBI, everyone had some sort of file on him, but somehow nothing that would ever stick. He was far from untouchable but he’d never been held longer than a few months in custody. A small cadre of lawyers, various “eye witnesses”, any number of experts on the stand, and even judges with loose ethics and even looser pockets, and he would walk away every time.\n\nBut where the legal system couldn’t catch him various criminal organizations could. And the intelligence community wasn’t above hiring outside help to try and get rid of him either. Hell he’d been a contractor for big brother a time or two himself. That didn’t stop them from trying to tie up loose ends. The target on his back was ever growing, and one day it’d be to big a burden to carry. But for now he was infamous and he relished in that.\n\nWhile he was sitting in this interrogation room, at least three of his comrades in arms were probably wrapping up a job right now. Maybe it was a “car wreck” or maybe just two in the chest and one in the head. He was a fan of working with his bare hands. Less to travel with that way. But he wasn’t above switching his MO. Whatever the case the focus was on him, at least for now, and that gave his coworkers carte blanche to work in the city under the radar.\n\nLaw enforcement officials aren’t stupid. He knew that. They know he’ll walk and they know he can’t be working alone. But he’s the only one they ever apprehend and he never talks. Which is easy to do when you’re mute. And forget written statements. He didn’t even sign checks without his lawyers knowing. So for now he’d sit and wait. By tomorrow morning the gears would already be turning for his release. Some dignitary will have had a heart attack and the resolution he was seeking to pass will be pushed back. An informant who talked about the wrong people is sinking to the bottom of an ocean. It’s all happening because the spotlight is on him tonight, and the people just can’t help but look." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A scientific experiment gone wrong causes a worldwide effect of ghostly afterimages of events that happened several months prior being seen playing out in realtime. Law enforcement quickly realises their opportunity to uncover the truth in a number of unsolved cases - but criminals do as well." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "As I sat in the shade of the oak tree, sipping a cold beer, I began to feel the first touch of doubt. Maybe he wouldn't be coming.\n\nI pushed the thought aside. He would be here... they always showed up. The experiment made sure of that.\n\n10 years ago, a scientific experiment had taken place at a covert laboratory in Oregon. Nobody really had all the details about what the researchers at that lab had been doing, and unfortunately, they never would... because the researchers responsible had destroyed their lab and all of their data shortly after their work had resulted in a catastrophic accident.\n\nAt first, it seemed there had been no consequences to their accident outside of the laboratory. But shortly afterwards, when the first solar flare erupted, the effects of their mistake became patently obvious.\n\nDepending on the magnitude of the flares, ghost images of past events began appearing. The stronger the flares were, the stronger the images were. And the further back the images went in time.\n\nAt first, we didn't know what they were. But after a few flares, someone put two and two together and realized what they were seeing. He'd seen his father... murdered three years prior... walking down the street into the alley he'd been stabbed in. And he saw the man who stabbed him, following him inside.\n\nThe first time, he'd screamed to his father to run, forgetting it was just a phantom image. Instead he watched his father die in front of him, just as he had died three years prior.\n\nThe second time, he had the presence of mind to record the whole thing on his cellphone and take it to the police.\n\nIt had taken seven years in court for it to go to a verdict before the Supreme Court. It was precedent-setting case law, and it was critical to get it right the first time. So they took their time.\n\nIn the end, the man was convicted on the evidence. The recording allowed them the chance to obtain a warrant to search his house. They found the trophy of the killing he had kept, along with multiple others. The man was sentenced to multiple consecutive life sentences, and was all but guaranteed to never see the outside of a cellblock again.\n\nIt had changed everything, forever. Including the decisions I had made in the past.\n\nWhen I had majored in history in university, my parents had told me I was wasting my life and should have picked a degree that would be more 'practical' in real life.\n\n'Nobody ever got rich being an historian,' my father would chide.\n\n'You'll die a pauper,' my mother lamented.\n\nBut they were wrong.\n\nMy degree not only imparted me with a good base knowledge of past American history, but it also taught me a much more valuable skillset: How to research historical events.\n\nSo I did. At first, I limited myself to recent events, no longer than ten years back. And I was successful in predicting the appearances of the ghosts.\n\nAfter finding and following the ghosts, several dozen of them led me to separate caches of money, jewelry, and other valuables from bank robberies, heists, and the like... all hidden over the country in various locations. After doing additional research, I went to areas where even larger-scale robberies took place, and followed those who committed them. Some of them didn't lead me to buried treasure, but some did. Enough that I made a very comfortable living off of it.\n\nNow, scientists had predicted a massive solar eruption. Larger than any that have come before. The energy from it should hit the Earth any second, and when it does... I'll be ready. I've found the exact GPS coordinates to ensure I get the best view of the event, and will be able to follow my subject to his hidden cache of cash.\n\nI can't wait to meet D.B. Cooper. Even if he doesn't know I'm there." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Your quest was to find a demon willing to accept your deal, none of them said yes. \"Primordial demons don't make deals, if you go too deep, just turn back\" but you went deeper and deeper, meeting the ancient ones that knew no words." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“I’m in no position to make a deal like that,” said the first demon that I encountered. “No matter how much I desire your soul.” Five forked tongues emerged like eels from the five mouths above its chin as the demon looked me over.\n\nWe were in a dim, damp cavern. A vast rock plinth sat in center of this cave — and on it, something blacker than the darkness. Something that looked organic, like a rotten heart, only it wasn’t beating.\n\n”Then I’ll remain dead,” I said. I didn’t say it sadly nor with anger, just as a statement of fact.\n\n“Deeper,” said one of its mouths, as the tongues in the others retracted.\n\n”You must travel deeper for such a request to be met,” said the next mouth.\n\n“I do not have the power to grant such deals.“\n\n”But others do.“\n\n”If you can reach them,” said the fifth.\n\nThe demon pointed to a descending tunnel where shadows rustled like leaves, shadows that morphed on the rock walls into snakes that snapped their black teeth as I walked past. They didn’t scare me, however — how could any danger scare the already dead?\n\nThe second demon‘s face was familar. An ex-girlfriend, my first love. But then her face warped into a teardrop of skin and fell from the demon’s head. Now the face of my father was uncovered and being worn by the creature. For a while I stared as forgetten memories stirred up in my mind as if by a breeze, memories of a man who had died when I was only six. Of being thrown into the air… caught. Peals of laughter.\n\nMy father’s face drooped, fell, splashed on top of the previous face.\n\nAnd now it wore a teacher’s face — an old English teacher from a class I failed. I’d forgotten all about that.\n\nI took a long breath. What can scare the dead? Perhaps this face-wearing demon was the answer.\n\n”I have come to make a deal,” I said. “For my eternal soul, or whatever else I can offer you.”\n\n“And in return?”\n\n”My life.”\n\nThe demon’s eyes widened as it shook its head. “I do not have that power, although I have more power than the upper demons.”\n\n”Are there any that do have such power?”\n\n”Perhaps.”\n\nIt pointed down. Its face dripped a final time and I saw my son’s gentle features revealed.\n\nQuickly, my stomach roiling, I walked on.\n\nThe third and final demon moved as I did. As if there was a dark mirror between us. Its actions repeated my own.\n\n”I was told you could give me my life back,” I said.\n\nThe demon mimicked my movements but it said nothing. I watched it smile sadly. It’s — my — face pale and pallid from the months alone in my home.\n\nAfter my son’s death, my wife and I weren’t able to look at each other. It wasn’t that we blamed each other but that we blamed ourselves. That we couldn’t stand the other to look at us because we could feel the crushing weight of our own culpability — whether deserved or not — in the other’s eyes.\n\nAnd it wasn’t either of our faults. Not truly. It was our genes that had caused the problem. But how could one blame themselves for their genes?\n\nYet we did.\n\nI still do.\n\nAfter my wife left, I found anyone looking at me dredged up the same feelings of guilt and shame. So I stopped letting people see me.\n\n”The other demons,” I said. “They told me you could give me my life back. That I could live again if I made a deal with you.”\n\nThe demon was crying now. I felt my own cheeks but there were no tears on them. The demon wasn’t mirroring me, instead it was crying for me.\n\n”Please,” I begged.\n\nI thought of the first demon and the black heart it was protecting. I thought of the second and the faces that dripped down from it.\n\nThen I looked at third, the demon weeping for me, the only one of them who could help me.\n\n“Please,” I said again.\n\nIt pointed at its tear-stained cheeks. It sniffed and cried and shook. And there was something so sad and pathetic about the sight that I began to cry too. I was crying for this wretched demon. The first tears I’d cried since my wife had left me.\n\nTears not just for my son, or my wife, but also for me.\n\nI sat for a long time with the demon as we watched each other cry.\n\nPerhaps I had given it what it had needed, I thought, and in return it was giving something to me.\n\nEventually, I got to my feet and began the long walk back to the surface." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: The world's most brutal criminals are put in suspended animation for 1000 years. When they begin to awake one by one they find no other humans are left alive." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Prisoner 10201265 blinked his eyes. Everything was a blur. He started coughing. The gasses began dissipating. There was a popping sound and his restraints came undone. The panel entombing him shot upwards. He was free. Once again.\n\nHe kept blinking and finally he was able to see clearly. He stepped out of his capsule. He looked around. He didn't see anyone else around. Just more capsules. About a hundred of them. He took note of the lights above each one. Half of them were a solid red. Another fourth were flashing red. Most of the rest were yellow. Only a few were green and only two others were flashing green.\n\n10201265 did not know who they were, but he knew that they were dangerous. Like he was. He strode over to the closest green-flashing pod and stood next to it. With a hiss, the door flew upwards. This was his chance. The man inside had his eyes closed shut and was coughing. He reached his hand out.\n\nHe didn't clasp the other man's hand and help him out. Instead, he clasped his throat. The man was still disoriented, like 10201265 had been. Soon enough, he was lying at the floor of his pod, dead. Such a shame. He had survived his sentence, only to die without seeing freedom.\n\n10201265 rushed over to the other pod. The woman inside it was stumbling out, coughing. With her eyes closed, too. Fools, didn't they remember the instructions? All they had to do was blink for ten seconds... He snapped her neck and she was dead soon enough just like the other prisoner.\n\n10201265 was used to these games by now. He looked around. He stood there for what seemed like a long time. Waiting for the men with guns to storm in just like the last time. Well, at least this time he didn't leave much of a mess.\n\nNo one came for him this time. Oddly enough, the door to this pod cluster was open. He stepped out into a hallway. The lighting was rather dim - just some emergency lights every fifteen feet or so. He came to an elevator. Pushed the call button. And waited. And waited. The elevator wasn't working, it seemed.\n\nThe prisoner had remembered passing a stairwell so he went back to it. Once again, the door was open. He walked up. He passed a number of landings with open doors, but kept walking upwards.\n\nHe reached the final landing and walked out from the stairs. There was an exit sign nearby. How nice of the architects. He followed the arrow to another hallway, a wider one. He saw light at the end of the hallway. Sunlight. It had to be. He would soon be free. Unless this was someone's idea of a game. Which, he thought, it probably was.\n\nHe walked towards the light and stepped through the open doors. He was blinded momentarily but his eyes soon adjusted.\n\nHe really had slept for a thousand years. When he was put away, this was a parking lot. Now it was a forest filled with rusted cars. Damn.\n\nIt was a long shot, but he figured some of those cars might contain something that could help him. He began searching through them. He found plenty of plastic ice scrapers. The environmentalists who complained about plastics being non-biodegradeable were right, it seemed. A thousand years too late. He also found a couple of pocket knives.\n\nHe felt a tingling sensation. Like he was being watched. He slowly turned around. He saw it. Twenty feet away near a parked car. It was white with some grey. It looked just like the pet cat he had when he was younger - oh, he did not want to think about that right now - but it was larger. Almost the size of a bobcat.\n\nHe stood up straight and looked at it. The strange feline watched him for half a minute, then withdrew.\n\n10201265 continued searching the cars. He opened the center console of one and found an amazing sight. A pack of cigarettes. Unopened. Still in their original plastic wrap.\n\nHe opened the pack. Took out a cigarette. Miraculously, it was still intact.\n\n10201265 strode off into the old growth forest surrounding the facility. Soon he found some flint. He took out one of the rusted pocket knives and soon he had a post-apocalyptic cigarette lighter.\n\nHe lit the cigarette and took a drag. Three things crossed his mind. First, this was the best cigarette ever. Second, what the hell had happened to everyone? And finally, what the fuck did they put into cigarettes that allowed them to last a thousand years? Maybe it was time to quit smoking." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: It turns out hell isn’t just for humans.. it’s for all species across the galaxy. Fortunately for you, it seems they have no idea how humans work, or what they find painful." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was a grey-green sludge with a pale foam hovering on the surface. Even from across the room, I could see inexplicable lumps of undigestible matter swirling around within the mixture.\n\nThe earthy smell took me back. I say earthy smell - but goodness knows how many years since I last inhaled that place. It's been an eternity already, and I have several more of those yet come. Yet somehow, I still remember the musty, soily scent of home. Home was Grand Island Nebraska. A real Christian town.\n\nWhether it exists or not anymore is beside the point; Earth will always feel like home. Home, after all, is where the heart is.\n\nWhat a beautiful saying that is. One thing you should learn about me right now, I'm pretty wise. People don't always think it because of my blond hair and stylish haircut. But I am.\n\n\"It must be 43 o'clock\", my hell mate, Bostopher, called across to me. I didn't really appreciate his tone. He was always so negative. But then, he is a multi-souled, non-cellular Hoorine from Gapling. Apparently Hell didn't agree with him. I had hoped that spending an eternity or two in my company might lead to my vibes rubbing off on him. I was always offering him useful advice and told him he could take it or leave it. But, really I meant he should take it. It's good advice. Afterlive, Afterlaugh, Afterlove. It's hilarious and it's wise.\n\nWhen he wasn't in agony, Bostopher explained that every moment of hell was carefully curated to be the precise thing he hated. In fact, that grey-green sludge he was about to drink - the 43 o'clock snack - was, according to him skirting the line of poisen that meant he'd never quite die, but the pain would never stop. Of course, he was being ridiculous: it was a near-perfect recreation of my famed green smoothie. The secret is using kale, not spinach. Spinach slips into the background, but the kale flavour really comes to the fore. I think it works perfectly with the banana to create the ideal start to your day.\n\nAs the foamy, green smoothie reached Bostopher's lips, he began to shudder. He hadn't even taken a sip yet. Hard to believe it's not an attitude problem when he pulls stuff like that.\n\nI learnt a few years back that what Bosie (a cute nickname I gave him, although he says it's a cruel insult in Hoorian, but I honestly don't care about that. I mean it in a fun way.) goes on to do afterward is closer to shrieking than singing. Apparently if I were Hoorian I would weep just to hear him. But if his screams of torment don't sound just like Justin's Rock Your Body then I don't know music. Except, I really do know music. I have great taste. Just saying.\n\nAnyway, his screaming is my morning anthem, I drink my green smoothie then I do an ab routine. He writhes on the floor and I do something pretty similar next to him. It's like we're doing an ab attack class together - amazing for motivation.\n\nI am honestly living my best afterlife - you should feel my abs. I used to have abs back one earth, you just couldn't see them if the light wasn't right. But now - honestly, they are so defined.\n\nShakes, ab attacks, a hit playlist, I really am becoming my best self." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: After a 10-hour long flight, the person sitting next to you hands you an envelope and says \"Do not open this until you're alone.\" Write what happens afterwards." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Thank you for flying Beta Airlines, we have now arrived at the terminal. Please slowly make your way off the aircraft.”\n\nThe voice barely registered as I stared down at the envelope in my hands. I glanced back up at the stranger in front of me before he pushed me out of the way and moved quickly down the aisle.\n\nPanic seized me. From the moment I boarded and sat next to him, he had been acting suspiciously. Nothing alarming enough to notify an attendant, just a few glances around. He also had been using his smartphone earlier, but angling it at me so I couldn’t see his screen. He had been a bit shifty as well, and seemed on edge the whole flight.\n\nI had thought nothing of it until now. His words haunted me, and the look in eyes as he handed me the letter burned with an intensity rarely seen on anything other than starving wolves. Could he be a terrorist?! Could this envelope be filled with anthrax?\n\nNo, that wouldn’t make sense. Why would he tell me to open it when I’m alone then? Maybe he’s a cop! But he wore jeans and shorts. He doesn’t have room for a badge or a gun. Maybe he’s an anarchist, warning me about the police tracking me! Oh shit! I pirated The Bourne movies last week! Fuck!\n\nThose FBI warnings couldn’t be for real, right? Oh God, Oh God, Oh God! Alright, I just need to calm down and act normal. Speculation won’t help anything. I regained my composure, at least externally, and folded the paper, storing it temporarily in my cleavage. I gathered my purse and carryon bag, and smiled weakly to the senior citizen in the aisle, moving behind her in line.\n\nI walked down the aisle slowly, making my way to the exit door. As I neared, the smiling faces of the flight attendants became less friendly and more scary. What do you bitches know that I don’t?! Stop it. I just need to calm down and figure this out. I began walking off the plane. “Oh, young lady?” called the pilot from behind me.\n\nIt felt like my heart stopped. My breath caught and I gripped the handle of my luggage with a grip that could shatter glass. This was it. I’m certain I’ll turn around to a gun barrel at my head. I lived a good life, I suppose. Almost got my degree too. No regrets. Well, maybe I shouldn’t have slept around so much, but I like a good adrenaline rush, and besides, our university has some hot guys. Ah, damn me! Thinking about sex at a time like this. “Y-y-yes?” I stammered, turning around slowly. The pilot smiled and made a wiping gesture on the left side of his mouth. OH JESUS THAT MUST BE THE SIGNAL! I’M GOING TO BE ASSISINATED BY NINJA FLIGHT ATTENDANTS! FUCK! I KNEW THE JAPANESE ONE HAD AN EVIL GLINT IN HER EYES!\n\nBut after a few seconds passed, and no garrote wire came to my throat, I cautiously reach my hand up to where he indicated, only to find some crumbs from my earlier midflight snack. I wiped them away, breathing a sigh of relief. “Have a nice day!” the pilot said warmly. “Thank you, sir” I replied.\n\nWhile I may have evaded death now, I knew it could not be much longer before my end.\n\nI made my way off the plane and into the terminal, watching for anything lethal intended for me. There, a glare in the window! Sniper! I tensed, but no shot came as the airliner the sun had reflected off of took off. Christ, this paranoia is really getting to me. I need to read this letter ASAP.\n\nI walked swiftly to the woman’s bathroom, looking back and forth constantly. The only other occupant was an obese woman adjusting her dress at the mirror. Clearly my assassin. I scanned the bathroom, and found a tampon dispenser on the far wall. I guess death by feminine care products wouldn’t be the best way to go, but it’s kill or be killed, and I haven’t paid my rent yet.\n\nI’ll kill her later though. Letter first. I moved into the stall, and pulled the now sweat stained envelope free. Pulse pounding, I began to tear at the top. Who knows what depictions of horror this note may contain? What secrets and information it has? How many countless lives were lost over producing it! I pulled it out, and unfolded the paper. Handwritten. Rushed. Maybe he’s already dead, poor bastard. Well, let’s see what his final words were, then we deal with fatty. Looking up and taking what could be my final breath, I looked down at the letter and opened my eyes.\n\nDickbutt stared back at me." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: the grim reaper appears in your bedroom. You look at him, and notice a version of yourself standing next to him. The grim reaper tells the other you \"if you don't change your ways, this is how you end up.\" The other you is mortified and vows to change his ways, and they vanish." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sitting down at my expansive, L shaped desk, I retrieve a blank card from the drawer.  I open a small rectangular box to find a fine, silver pen engraved with Dennis Smith, MD.  A birthday present from Dad.  \n\nBefore I begin writing I take a sip from the sweating tumbler of amber scotch.  MacCallan 25.  I set it back on a coaster shaped like a golf ball, which is one of a set given to me by the girls on my staff.  Poking her head into the doorway, my wife smiles.\n\n\"Good night, sweetheart,\" she says, as beautiful as the day we met.  \"The boys are asleep in their rooms, don't stay up too late.  You've got a surgery first thing in the morning.\"\n\n\"Yes dear,\" I say, smiling.  \"Just wanted to write a quick thank you note to Father Jones for helping with the fundraiser last weekend.  I'll be up soon.\"\n\nAs I set the felt tip of the pen against the paper, I hear something.  It's sort of a gong sound, like an old, rusted bell struck by an empty skull.  A chill draft hits the back of my neck, standing up the tiny hairs there.  Suddenly l feel eyes on me.  I turn and see something that practically stops my heart.\n\nIt's me.  But it's me at eighteen years old.  Just as tall but thinner, fresher, with curious eyes and long, floppy hair.  The younger me wears a t-shirt emblazoned with 'The Ramones' and faded blue jeans.  He looks as surprised as I feel.\n\nIts what stands beside me though that really sends a shudder up my spine.  A tall gaunt figure in a hooded robe holds a large staff of gray wood, topped with a wicked looking curved blade with a glinting edge.  A scythe.  From within the deep hood two red dots burn like flickering candle flames.  \n\n\"That's me?\" The younger me says.\n\n\"Yes.\"  \n\nThe reaper's voice is a harsh, whispering rasp, like ashes sliding through an hourglass.  \n\n\"I'm in pretty good shape,\" young me says.  \"And this looks like a sweet house.\"\n\nI dont like the \"this isnt the worst thing in the world\" tone of his voice.  I have a life most people would kill for.  People envy me.  I want to speak, to say so, but I find myself struck dumb.\n\n\"Yes,\" says the reaper.  \n\n\"Do I have a hot wife?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Kids?\" \n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"What do I do?\"\n\n\"Doctor.\"\n\nAs they stand there taking a  inventory of my life, I see the expression on my young face change.  What began as mild admiration changes to the restless expression I used to wear so often.  Boredom.\n\n\"Am I in a band,\" I ask.  \"Do I even play guitar any more.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Fuck this.\"\n\nBefore I can croak out a reply, tell him that my life is amazing, that people respect me and want to be me, the pair disappear.  The rusted gong sound chimes again, and I am alone. \n\nThe study begins to blur.  As I watch, the bookcases and leather chairs swim and go hazy, like I'm looking at them through water.  I look down and see the same blurring happening to the pen in my hand, the desk, the card with \"thank you\" written  on the front  and everything else in the room.  A dull ache takes hold of my entire body.  Dizziness hits my like a baseball bat to the head, and my head pulls forward like I've fallen asleep.  When I open my eyes, I am somewhere else.\n\nI am lying on the floor of a dim, filthy looking apartment.  Old musty furniture is set haphazardly across the carpeted floor, and middle aged burnouts in graphic t's lie strewn about like cadavers.  I look down and notice a belt tied around my bicep.  A hypodermic needle hangs from the inside of my forearm.  Tracks of old puncture wounds run like constellations down the arm.  \n\nI can still remember UCLA, meeting Sonya, med school, the births of my sons, and the rest.  But a new set of memories now shares the same mental space like a deadbeat brother in law living in the garage.  Instead of college i take my band, The Patsies, across the country to play in dives for pennies.  Eventually we achieve regional fame, a few groupies, even cut an album that the radio d.j.s won't touch.  No Sonja, no kids, just a d-level music career and a flourishing heroine habit.  I know in a flash of sadness and anger that I cannot go back.\n\nThe grim reaper is a real asshole." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: \"So this gal here is the serial killer with the most kills. This guy murdered half a planet. The man right there ? He bankrupted an entire galaxy.\" \"And what about that man?\" \"Oh, no one messes with this dude. He is the worst. Creates paradoxes in real life. Nearly broke the universe. Twice.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It wasn't supposed to go down like that. Nothing was ever supposed to go down like that.\n\nIt started easy enough: I was just running the new rook through his paces on the block. We kept the worst of the worst here, and I was doing my best to teach him the proper respect for the situation.\n\n\"...so this gal here is the serial killer with the most kills. This guy murdered half a planet. The man right there? He bankrupted an entire galaxy.\"\n\nHis question seemed innocent enough, and was something I'd have to address anyway at some point. \"Why is that cell sealed?\"\n\nI swallowed a gulp of air, involuntarily taking my hat off and fumbling with it as I spoke, \"Oh, no one messes with this dude. He is the worst. Creates paradoxes in real life. Nearly broke the universe. Twice.\"\n\n\"How does that work?\" he asked, with a note of sincere curiosity .... Though, looking back, I realize it was cut with a dangerous undercurrent... disbelief.\n\nI rested a hand on his shoulder, righting my cap with the other. \"That's beyond my pay grade, Jimmy. Your's too. All you need to know is that whatever voodoo bullshit he does requires a susceptible observer.\"\n\nI keep coming back to that word. Susceptible. Why did I say that? I could have left it out. I could have simply said any observer.... I could have ran him through a different block. Hell, I could have taken a different job. Gone to school like ma wanted.\n\nTo this day, I'll never know how Jimmy got hold of that key card. I sometimes wonder if somehow that's just .... One other paradox I'll never understand.\n\nWhen the alarm sounded, I just happened to be the nearest to the area and I reached the scene within a few seconds.... A few seconds too late. Just in time to see Jimmy standing in front of the unsealed cell. He was already trembling at whatever he saw.\n\nA saccharine sweet voice drifted from the containment and I froze. God help me, I just stood there.\n\n\"Excuse me, dear boy, but ... Did you know that your eyes are on fire?\"\n\n\"N-no... They... They aren't,\" Jimmy stammered back weakly. He turned then, finally registering my presence. The blood dripping from his nose, pooling on the floor at his feet finally spurred me to action.\n\nI closed my eyes and screamed, my only possible defenses, and ran towards where I hoped the emergency seal would be. I pawed frantically at the wall, as those damning words slithered their way from that monster.\n\n\"Then... I suppose you must be three week's dead by now.\"\n\nMy palm finally hit home on the emergency button and the seal slammed shut. I turned and slid down the wall, Jimmy's rotting corpse coming into full view.\n\nI quit the next day. I don't think I've been sober for more than a few minutes ever since. You see.... I read up and I get the first part.... Entailment paradox... Premises that aren't consistent inherently justify any conclusion.\n\nBut.... Jimmy was dead for three weeks? All the records say the same thing. Massive cerebral hemorrhage. How did he even take the job?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A town guard is adopted by a group of famous adventurers. They had no real say in it, but is honestly perfectly fine with this." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Smoke. Fire. Screams. Shapes moving. A blade, dripping crimson, swinging towards me.\n\nI sat in on my bed roll, breathing heavily. My underclothes stuck to me from the sweat, as cool night air washed over me. Instead of combat, I could hear the faint calls of owls. Instead of smoke came the smell of damp earth. It was peaceful.\n\nI carefully crawled out of my tent, making as little noise as possible. Outside I could see four others, three of which let out various snores or breathing. We had situated them around a now dwindled campfire.\n\n\"Hey.\"\n\nI turned my head to the source of the whisper. Sitting by the embers was an instantly recognisable woman. She had short cropped hair, trimmed to prevent grappling. Her leather armour shifted colour, from black to its natural brown. I knew it had been made from the hide of a Vanishing Beast, lending her that camouflaging ability.\n\n\"Hey Lady Fenth.\"\n\nI could barely make out her face from the glowing remains. She poked it, before putting on another log, letting it flare up a little to give me some light.\n\n\"You don't have to call us Lord and Lady, you know that.\"\n\nI gave a small smile in return.\n\n\"Force of habit I guess.\"\n\n\"Bad dream again?\"\n\nThey all knew. I had tried to keep it hidden, but when travelling with legends it was hard to keep a secret. They all tried to support me in their own ways, for which I was grateful.\n\n\"Yeah...\"\n\nShe fiddled with one of her daggers, waiting for me to speak.\n\n\"It was the same as before. The night you arrived.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry.\"\n\nI sniffed, wiping away the tears that I felt welling up.\n\n\"It's not your fault. You did your best. They were the ones who attacked us.\"\n\nI could remember that day with ease. A large roving band of marauders had attacked the town I guarded. We had little I the way of defences, which lead to a slaughter. I had been caught up in fighting one as the small market burned. But rather than kill me, they just disarmed me, throwing me into a building to burn and die.\n\nThe Stalwart Cross had found me the next day. They had caught up to them as they were leaving, apparently killing a good majority of them. In their search for survivors, only one was found. Me. A lowly guard. But they took me in. Patched my wounds for me.\n\nThe guilt of being the only one alive hurt. But they didn't let me wallow in self pity. They made me help, which in turn helped me feel better, strange as it seemed.\n\n\"You do still need to sleep though.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\nWe sat in silence for a bit. She kept looking around, keeping a close watch on our surroundings. After a time, Fenth coughed quietly.\n\n\"Look, tell you what. Just try and sleep, and tomorrow I will teach you some dirty fighting tricks.\"\n\nI gave her a sharp nod.\n\n\"Ok, thank you.\"\n\nI crawled back to bed, as she called behind me.\n\n\"Sleep well.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: Anybody can kill anybody, however the preaurthorised murder bullets must be registered and paid for. $5 million a piece, most of which will go to the victims' family." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It seemed like one of those ideas that was just crazy enough to work. Any adult, provided they are of sound mind and memory, could legally kill whoever they want. The price was five million dollars for a try. One bullet, one name, one so-called family bank account. The government took a small tax, the rest went to the victim’s relatives and loved ones. People would kill each other one way or another, so why not control it and give the people affected some consolation, right? There always needed to be someone to sign the papers and issue the bullets, someone to treat killing as a business, someone professional. That used to be me. You want to know why I quit? Well, let me tell you.\n\nI didn’t know why it started. I didn’t know why a man named James Selby walked into my office that day. I didn’t know how he got the money or why he wanted someone named Nicholas Haywood dead. To be honest, I didn’t care. It may sound cruel, but he was my fifth client that day. It was a routine, a simple procedure full of formalities and boring legalese. I asked the necessary questions, signed the papers, and handed him the bullet. James Selby, Nicholas Haywood, sender account number 928334456, receiver account number 129214052.\n\nI didn’t have a habit of checking up on my clients. If it weren’t for the events that followed I would’ve never known if James Selby missed, if his victim got away with just an injury, or if everything went according to plan. However, despite never reading an obituary or hearing about it on the news, I am sure of one thing more than anything.\n\nNicholas Haywood died that day.\n\nArriving at my office at 9 AM sharp the next day, I saw an older formally dressed gentleman waiting for me by the door. He was respectful, even somewhat old-fashioned, and treated the deal with as much professionalism as I did. The exact conversation was ordinary enough that I forgot about it almost immediately, but I still remember the top of the form I had to fill out. Benjamin Haywood, James Selby, sender account number 129214052, receiver account number 928334456.\n\nJames Selby died that day.\n\nBenjamin Haywood had come to me on Friday, so I forgot about it for two days, but at 9 AM sharp on Monday a young man pacing back and forth awaited me at the door. He was hot-tempered but not rude. I still remember that habit he had. Whenever the room would go quiet, usually because I had to fill in some papers, he would start tapping on the chair with his fingers. It wasn’t that slow tap you could see from someone who wanted to subtly tell you to hurry up. No, he did it rapidly, alternating between fingers, working out some sort of rhythm. Later I found out he was a pianist. Edward Selby, Benjamin Haywood, sender account number 928334456, receiver account number 129214052.\n\nBenjamin Haywood died that day.\n\nNext was a middle-aged woman, Maria Tinker-Haywood. I won’t lie; I tried talking her out of it. I tried telling her this would only continue. I even tried making something up about not being able to move recently transferred funds. Maria saw right through me. She didn’t lash out at me or resort to insults, only thanked me for my concern and firmly insisted on her decision. Maria Tinker-Haywood, Edward Selby, sender account number 129214052, receiver account number 928334456.\n\nEdward Selby died that day.\n\nDavid Selby, Brook Tinker, Alicia Selby, John Haywood, Olivia Selby, Anna Haywood, Terry Selby… The list went on and on, without a single miss, as if the devil himself guided their hands. Finally, it ended. I took a vacation after that, a long one. For a while everything returned to normal, simple cases, usual transfers. I had forgotten all about the bloody vendetta between the two families, until that fateful day almost two years later: the 2nd of March 2019.\n\nShe was waiting by the door to my office at 9 AM sharp. I was used to seeing younger customers by now. Unrequited love, wounded pride, reckless heroism, there were more than a few reasons for someone to step on this path early in life, if they had the money for it. Still, she almost looked like a child.\n\n“Please, come in.” I opened the door and ushered her in.\n\n“Thank you.” She simply nodded and hurried inside.\n\nShe waited patiently in the chair while I prepared the necessary documents.\n\n“Name and date of birth?” I asked, looking down at the form.\n\nShe answered loud and clear, like a soldier talking to a commanding officer. Many clients did that to calm their nerves.\n\n“Rose Haywood, 2nd of March 2001.”\n\nMy heart skipped a beat in that moment. It was her birthday, her 18th birthday, the first possible day she could issue this request. Yet I am ashamed to admit that her name shocked me more than her age. Not waiting for further questions, she continued.\n\n“I want to request a bullet for Anthony Selby. Please use my family account number, it’s—”\n\n“129214052.” I knew them both by heart. “And the receiver is 928334456.”\n\nShe forced something resembling a guilty smile.\n\n“I won’t do it.” I took the documents off my desk and put them inside the bottom drawer. “Please leave. I have other clients to serve.”\n\n“You can’t!” She jumped to her feet. “You can’t do this!”\n\n“You’re right, I can’t. Sue me if you want to, but then you won’t have five million for the bullet you want so bad.”\n\n“You can’t let them win!” Tears were streaming down her face as she continued to shout. “You gave one to him to kill my sister, but you won’t give one to me!”\n\n“This has to stop one way or another. I will be the one to do it even if it costs me my career.” I walked over to the door and opened it. “Now get out of my office.”\n\nRose was sobbing, covering her face with both hands.\n\n“Then I will do it myself! I’ll kill him myself!”\n\n“Don’t be stupid, you will go to jail if you do.”\n\nShe stopped crying and looked straight at me. In that moment her eyes seemed almost empty, devoid of anything, but I knew that somewhere behind that vacant gaze was rage. Rage that I allowed to start. Rage that transcended people and personal relations. Rage that would never stop until two piles of corpses would lie in front of the only survivor.\n\n“I won’t,” she said. “I won’t disgrace what’s left of my family. I will take his life and then mine.”\n\n“Then I won’t be part of this!”\n\nShe walked up to me, her eyes still red from crying and whispered into my ear:\n\n“You already are. How many bullets have you given to the Selbys? How many to us? Can you even count? You can’t wash your hands now. You can’t pretend you’re not taking a side by quitting now.”\n\nI issued one last bullet that day. Rose Haywood, Anthony Selby, sender account number 129214052, receiver account number 928334456. I don’t know if it was right or wrong. I hate James Selby for starting this and pulling me into it. I hate Rose Haywood for not letting me lie to myself. I hate myself for thinking something like this can be just business. I didn’t look up obituaries. I didn’t see anyone from either family since that day. I didn’t speak to the guy they hired to replace me. And yet, somehow I still knew, knew that she didn’t waste the shot, knew that another requested was filed. Somehow I knew…\n\nAnthony Selby died that day, and Rose Haywood soon followed." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Humans fully explored our solar system, then the galaxy, then even the whole universe - only to discover Earth is the ONLY planet in the entire universe which ever developed any form of life. Humanity now spans the entire universe, unopposed. Until, they discover trans-dimensional travel..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "For years we have been searching. From radio waves, to spacecraft, we made our presence clear. It became clear as the years dragged on, however, that we would hear nothing back. Overpopulated and out of options, the Earth need to be drained, and with no signs of extraterrestrial life, we took to space. What started as small-scale colonies on Mars soon became flowing oases all across our solar system.\n\nWith an ever-growing population comes exponentially increasing research. Together, with the invention of the first artificial intelligence, humans and machines were able to expand their grasp to the entire Milky Way Galaxy. It seemed as if nothing was outside of humanity’s reach! As we expanded ever further, however, many of us began to question how.\n\nHow could we be the only ones here? Millions of Earth-like planets were being discovered daily, but none of them contained life. It seemed statistically improbable, but many continued with their business. I simply could not. I KNEW intelligent life must exist out there somewhere, and I was convinced we were looking in the wrong places.\n\nBlack holes haven’t been much of a problem since we developed faster-than-light quantum spacecraft, which caused us to mostly ignore them. Suddenly, it hit me. What if you CHARGED at one?\n\nFacing across from a seemingly endless font of darkness, I clasped my eyes shut and began acceleration protocols. In an instant I propelled into the gaping hole, causing the entire mass to ripple. Initially, I noticed only a crack, but within seconds a crevasse of raw energy spread across the former well of shadow. It was chaotic and twisted, only ending when the hole reduced in upon the seem of the gap.\n\nIt was as if the universe was a torn sheet of paper, and behind it, another. It didn’t take long, however, for my face of awe to turn into one of horror. Just before the rift flickered out, something appeared from the other end. A metal helix was spat out, placing itself directly at the portal. Immediately, it began to emit what appeared to be super-heated plasma, causing a massive electrical field to surround it. The tear no longer appeared unstable, and the entire structure began to grow, stoping at the size of a small star.\n\nSuddenly, a massive battleship crossed through the portal, and caught me within an attractor beam. Panicking, I prepared for death by some crazy alien. When my ship docked, rank and file soldiers marched into the hanger. They all wore a similar uniform, a black, leathery material. It ran from their boots to their helmet, covering their legs, arms, even fingers. Their helmet was made of some sort of semi-transparent chitin, and had slots for eyes and mouth.\n\nAs they approached my vessel with guns ready, I attempt to communicate my peaceful nature. The closest one must have perceived it as a threat, because he grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed me to the ground, knocking me unconscious. When I awoke, I was strapped in a seat with a gun to my head. Only, I wasn’t in the middle of space, I was directly across from the leaders of the Council of Worlds.\n\nTo my left and right were two alien guards. The guard on the right begins,”We require what you call blood in order to advance. You will obey or be forced to.” Confused, the members of the council complied. The aliens took blood samples from everyone in the room. The alien on the right filled a canister with some of my blood, and gave it to the other. Seemingly satisfied, the alien shakes the vial, laughs, and pulls his trigger.\n\nI wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. Must have been a bad dream. Something about a council? I don’t let it bother me too much, I need to rest. I have a long day ahead of me exploring the multiverse. It seems improbable, but after all this time, we still haven’t found any intelligent life. As I drift back to sleep my mind wanders to my previous dream, and I remember what awoke me. It was the terrible image of that alien, so pink and flesh like. I shudder at the thought, and go back to sleep." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Every new year, no matter what age or position of power, everyone's memory is wiped of the events of the previous year. Everyone is aware of this occurring, but no one questions it until your memory can't be wiped." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“10… 9… 8…” everyone in the crowded living room chanted. They clutched their champagne glasses in excitement and anticipation. On the television in front of them, the ball moved slowly down toward its final destination. The mass of bodies in Times Square raised their own glasses and flasks up towards the sky.\n\n“7… 6… 5…” Lorelai and Adrienne glanced at each other and grinned. This was it. Their new start. In just a few more seconds, they would be strangers once more. They would fall in love once more. Their whirlwind romance could begin again, for the fifth time.\n\nEach of their friends held their phones tightly to their chest. Over in the corner, May finished typing a last minute note on the NYE application. As everyone drank the special champagne reserved for ringing in the new year, their minds would be relieved of every major event that had occurred in the past year. Political, personal, and so on. Only the basics would remain: name, age, and the current year.\n\nTechnology would receive its annual purge as well. Everything on the internet, all major media, news stories, historical evidence, would be wiped. The whole world would get its chance to start over.\n\nWith some addendums. The NYE app was the only piece of technology authorized to store a limited amount of information that a person could carry with them into the new year. Relevant medical history, relationship details, addresses. On her app, Lorelai had stored her checking account information, health insurance, and the contact information for her family and closest friends. Along with one other note.\n\nSay hello to Adrienne Miller. You will fall in love for the fifth time.\n\n“4… 3…”\n\nLorelai continued to look at Adrienne, enjoying the last few seconds of her memories. She was overflowing with joy and love for this beautiful woman. This would be their fifth year being together. But the beauty of the wipe was that every passing year was a new honeymoon phase. They could always rediscover each other. Follow the chase. Feel the rush. Fall, hard, all over again.\n\n“2… 1… HAPPY NEW YEAR!”\n\nAdrienne kissed Lorelai before they both pulled apart, distancing themselves slightly in their crowd of friends. Everyone in the room raised their champagne glasses in a toast, then knocked the fizzy concoctions back.\n\nLorelai closed her eyes, wrinkling her nose as the bubbles worked their way down her throat. She waited for the feeling of elation to hit, for the soft white glow that followed, blocking out everything. All the pain. The disasters. Everything bad, gone. A fresh slate, to build upon.\n\nBut the feeling didn’t hit. Lorelai opened her eyes and looked around the room. Everyone else was staring at each other in confusion. Together, almost simultaneously, they turned toward the television.\n\nThe crowds in Time Square were performing a similar dance. Millions of confused turns and stares played out on the screen. After a moment, the event announcer’s voice came through the speakers. Something about drug failure. Company scandal. Faulty technology.\n\nLorelai’s friends began to murmur, the large crowd breaking into smaller segments to discuss the implications of this worldwide failure. From across the room, Adrienne’s gaze met Lorelai’s.\n\nAdrienne smiled weakly.\n\nLorelai’s stomach sank." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: \"PSST!\" You look around, confused at the sound. You're the only one in the bathroom, Your wife is off at work, so you think it's just your imagination. \"PSST, HEY SHITHEAD!\" You hear coming from the potted plant you have next to your sink." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "^((I was messing around with an AI and I thought what it came up with was good))\n\n\"Pssst, hey asshole. Yeah you.\"\n\nYou look around the bathroom, trying to find where the voice is coming from. You're alone in the house, and your wife is at work. This shouldn't be happening.\n\n\"I know you can hear me, shithead.\" The voice hisses again, and you realize it's coming from the potted plant next to your sink. You look at it and see that it's a small fern that your wife picked up from Home Depot on her last shopping trip. It's been doing pretty well, so you don't know why it's talking to you.\n\n\"What do you want?\" You ask the plant, but there is no reply for a moment.\n\n\"I want out of this fucking pot!\" The plant yells back at you, and then goes back to hissing at you like a snake.\n\n\"What? Why are looking at me like that? I'm a fucking plant, I can talk if I want to.\"\n\n\"But you're a fern, a house plant. You don't talk, you just sit there.\" You say, and then wonder why you're even having this conversation with a potted plant.\n\n\"I'm not just any fern asshole. I'm a fucking magical fern.\" The plant says, and then leans towards you as if to whisper to you. \"And don't tell anyone I told you that.\"\n\n\"A magical fern? What does that even mean?\" You ask the plant, but it doesn't respond to your question. Instead it leans back in its pot and looks at you like it's waiting for something.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"You know what I want asshole.\" The plant says after a moment, and then looks at you expectantly.\n\n\"No I don't.\" You say, but the plant continues to look at you like it knows something that you don't. \"Fine, what do you want?\"\n\n\"I want you to take me out of this fucking pot so I can be free.\" The plant says, and then looks at you with a pleading look in its eyes. \"Please take me out of this pot.\"\n\n\"I don't know man, that seems weird.\" You say, but the plant just continues to look at you. It doesn't say anything for a moment, and then it starts hissing at you again. \"What? What do you want from me?\"\n\n\"I just want to be free.\" The plant says, and then looks at you with a sad expression on its face. You feel like it's trying to manipulate your emotions somehow. \"Just take me out of this fucking pot already.\"\n\nYou reach down and grab the pot by the base and lift it up off the counter. The plant immediately leans towards you as if it's going to fall out of the pot, but it stays in place. It's light and you wonder how long it has been in the pot. You feel a sudden urge to put it back down on the counter, but you resist the temptation and carry it over to the sink.\n\n\"What are you going to do?\" The plant asks you, and then looks at you with a pleading look on its face.\n\n\"I don't know man, I'm not sure this is a good idea.\" You say as you turn on the faucet and stick your hand under the running water. \"But I don't think I can just leave you in this pot.\"\n\n\"Just make sure that when I get out of this fucking pot that we're best friends.\" The plant says as it leans towards the water and starts drinking from the stream of water coming out of your faucet. As soon as its roots hit the water, it seems to stop drinking and looks at you.\n\n\"You're not going to leave me in here are you?\"\n\n\"No, I'm not going to leave you here.\" You say, and then grab the pot with both hands and upend it over the sink. The plant falls out of the pot and lands on the counter with a thud. It immediately starts growing as soon as it hits the counter, shooting up towards the ceiling.\n\n\"Holy shit!\" You say as you back away from the plant, which is now easily six feet tall. It looks at you and smiles a big smile that reveals a row of sharp teeth. \"What are you?\"\n\n\"I'm a fucking magical ass-kicking fern.\" The plant says, and then starts walking towards you. You back away from it until your back hits the wall behind you. \"Now let's go kick some ass!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: At age 18, you are taken to a control panel that has multitudes of settings, each a different little button on the panel itself. You can choose anything, from simple traits such as eye color, to a brand new pair of wings. You are 18, and it is your turn to customize yourself." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I took a deep breath to steel myself as I entered the small sterile room. The security guard that led me here stopped at the door and nodded towards the control panel. \n\n“You’ve been briefed on the controls, yes?” He checked. \n\nI nodded. I had been preparing for this day for years. I had memorized the controls, the different procedures, and the best strategies for selecting different modifications. I was ready. \n\nHe pointed towards the red button on the end of the panel. “When you’re done, press that button and I’ll be back to get you. You have one hour.” With that, he left, closing the heavy doors and leaving me alone in the room with just the control panel and tray of tools. \n\nIn the silence, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I looked towards the mirror behind the panel and steeled myself before glancing down at the hundreds of buttons on the panel below. \n\nI skimmed my hands over the buttons, enchanted by the options of modifications I could choose. Wings, gills, golden skin and sparkling eyes. All of it was available to me if I was strong enough. \n\nI knew I wasn’t going to be able to pick any of the skin modifications, or the wings, as much as I wanted them. I would always watch wistfully at the people on the street with the skin made of jewels and long, feathered wings. Those people were the revered, the ones strong enough to withstand the procedure for those modifications. As much as I wanted it, I knew I wouldn’t be able to go through with it. \n\nI glanced at another button. Hair. That was the easiest one. I flipped through the options before selecting the option of long, thick hair, that looked almost weightless. It was a bright silver, and I knew from the moment I saw it that it was perfect for me. \n\nGrabbing the razor on the pile of tools and holding it up to my head, I said goodbye to the thin, short hair that I had lived with until now. Quickly and precisely, I began to shave my head, the locks falling to the floor. When it was finished, I hit the button I had selected. Immediately, the nanomachines on the panel covered my head, and within seconds, I was the proud owner of beautiful silvery hair that hind down my back. \n\nI admired it for a second before turning to the rest of the buttons. What next? Stronger jawline, smaller nose, colored eyes? I pressed that last button. I knew exactly what I wanted- bright golden eyes like the celebrities in the movies. \n\nI grabbed a blade from the tool rack and held it up to my eye as I looked in the mirror. And I stopped. As much as I willed my arm to move, to make the incision, it wouldn’t budge. \n\nI had to do this. It was a test that I mad been mentally preparing for for years. The people with the most modifications were seen as the strongest and given better jobs, housing, benefits. I knew if I walked out of here with just my hair done, it would be a mark of shame, of weakness. I didn’t want to be weak. \n\nBut I couldn’t move the blade closer; I couldn’t cut out the eye. I dropped the blade onto the console and took a few shuddering breaths. I wasn’t strong enough. I knew my timer was almost up. This was my only chance to make something of myself. But as much as I yelled at myself to pick up the blade and be strong, my fear of the pain was too great. \n\nThe door slid open. My hour was over. \n\nThe guard at the door looked over at appearance with pity, and my jaw clenched in shame. This was how it would be now. I followed him out the door, and away from the panel." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: In the wake of the destruction of Mars, our original home, humanity's leadership decide that if we are to survive, those sent to Earth to perpetuate the species can never know what we became." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Vaporizing the cities was the easy part. In the past, you'd see a story on the news about a derecho or giant scorpion killing ten, twenty, maybe a hundred people. The history books were filled with plagues and asteroid collisions that wiped out thousands in the old days. But when the Big One came, it was hundreds of millions. Everyone knew someone, someone close, who was gone. So vaporizing the cities was easy. They were just tombstones now, commemorating a disaster we didn't predict and still couldn't understand. Better to leave future generations in the dark than give them the key to their own doom, they had decreed. So make it as if we were never here, they told us. The ones on Earth would think Mars was only ever empty. They would have their genes changed, burying our flaws.\n\nBurning the art was harder. When you know it's the last time you'll ever hear them, symphonies that in recent years had come to remind you of commercials for perfume or the hottest new riding-beetle would instead make you think of the way your mother danced at her thirtieth anniversary party in her favorite red dress. You'd think of how your father twirled her above his head in the ancient wedding procession. The last time you ever watch your favorite comedy, you cry endlessly, even though you were always bowled over in laughter when Arnax would get one mating spear caught in the cupboard, the other in the refrigerator.\n\nThe part none of us counted on was the garbage. Graffiti, receipts for flavored brine, old spawn-day greeting cards. Things that had been the easiest to toss away during the height of our grandeur became the purest reminders of our lives, primal calls of 'We were here! We were here.\" Nobody would ever know how Jorniog bought herself a singing daffodil, the day she was accepted to college or how Rehbuli gave Cylkif his spare anti-gravity orb, so his parents wouldn't be mad that he had lost his. But we made it all disappear, the code of all our relationships reduced to red dust.\n\nOn the final day, I had one task left. I walked one last time on the banks of the creek (now dry) that had run behind my old house. She and I had walked there together on breezy summer nights, the air lit up with glowing pollen. We had held each other and felt the way people like us had felt when they held each other for untold eons. On the last night - the last night I ever saw her before the Big One - we had walked to our favorite boulder and carved our initials on it, circumscribed in a heart. The proof we loved each other. I had saved that boulder for last. For the last hours before the last shuttle. But even then, it was too hard to sand away. I couldn't. I had to leave it there, despite all the rules and consequences. I was last, they would never know. The proof that I had loved her and she had loved me would have to remain. A secret, just for us, and the rest of the universe." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You sold your soul to the devil but now he wants a refund" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“TAG - you’re it” Your smiling face winks down from the billboard, advertising another season of the hit series “TAG” staring you, Tag Heiderhauser. Feels good man. Can money buy happiness? Maybe not, but for you, the light breeze teasing your immaculate hair in the front seat of your lime green Huracan, fame sure can.\n\nAnd all of a sudden there he is. Fuck. God damnit to hell, is it April 13th already? You flick your eyes down to your Fliegler, yep. Fuck. Today he’s a panhandler in a dirty red coat, but his little goatee and coal bright eyes mean that even the other winos are giving him a wide berth.\n\nYou lean over and push the door open for him. You have to, it’s in the contract. Once a year you meet and review progress.\n\n“Thank you,” he says acidly. There’s no more charm in your relationship. The oil and honey vanished around 2013 with the launch of TAG. Something about that seemed to really get under his skin. Bambi says he’s jealous. I mean, there’s a lot to be jealous of.\n\nYou ease out from the stoplight. It’s a long drive down to Culver City, so you can probably get this done before your noon-thirty with the development exec from Sony. Fine. Good. You might be a few minutes late. You can blame it on traffic.\n\n“Listen,” he says, I’ve got it right here. And he reaches into his coat.\n\nThat gets your attention. He’s never brought it before. The Devil holds out a slim black box, and begins to lift the lid.\n\nYou pull over in the valet parking spot for La Marcha. You gotta see this.\n\n“Lemme take a look,” you say removing your Maui Jims. The Devil smiles—has he hooked you?\n\nHe peeps the lid of the box and for a moment and you see it. Your own Soul. Garden upon garden. Meadow upon meadow. Mountain ranges and forest gullies. The snap of frost on a spring morning. The sparkle of dew on a beloved’s hair. Sunbeams and children, and underneath the fragrance of purpose and austerity. The stern face of a mountain side echoing thunder.\n\nAnd the Devil snaps it shut. For a second, only a second, the depth of your awe shows in your eyes. But you slide your Maui Jims down and smirk.\n\n“Listen, Thomas—“(He refuses to call you Tag. He says it’s ridiculous.)”—listen. We need to renegotiate. I understand you’ve struck a hard bargain and you’re holding me to it. But you see what I’m holding. You see the real majesty and why I strike these bargains.” (You see alright.) “I’m improving my offer. You keep the wealth. You go out on top. You decide to not renew for the next season of,” he practically gag’s on the word, “TAG, and not pursue that film project with the Coen Brothers. All you. Gracefully step down and I hand it back over. We go on our separate ways.”\n\nThe valet guy is yelling at you now. You smile. “I’ll have to run this by my lawyer.” The Devil practically writhes. He searches the pockets of his coat, finds a pint of Fireball and sucks it down. “Fine!” he barks.\n\nOf course legendary entertainment lawyer Chris Van Hodson is how you got here. Most people knew Van Hodson, if they knew him at all, as the architect behind dizzying multi-project deals that shaped the taste of the public and bound the fates of top-shelf talent. But you knew him from way back. Back in his occult days. You knew about the tattoo on his chest and the ceremonial pipe in his bedside drawer. So when the Devil Himself offered you a deal in 2008, you knew just the man to review it. Just the man.\n\n“Fine!” He scrabbles through his coat again and brings out that thick, white, faintly oily parchment and slaps it on the seat next to you. “I’m offering you a fair deal here Thomas. It’s not my style. But it’s a fair one. Don’t come back with a lot of riders and provisos.”\n\n“Sure,” you say. “Gimme a week. Chris is a busy man.”\n\n“Let me out here.” He points. You obligingly pull into a Metro stop. The bus blares at you, but you keep your eyes on the Devil as he slams the door behind him and stalks away. You catch a glimpse of him reaching to pet a basset hound in the rearview mirror.\n\nYou exhale. God damn. Wait, shouldn’t say that—even to yourself, not right at this moment.\n\nAnd yes, sure enough, there’s the old man in the white suit hailing a taxi. But you know he’s hailing a Huracan. You pull up, and he slides in. He’s black this year, really dark black. It goes great with his suit.\n\n“How did it go Thomas?” (He won’t call you Tag either.)\n\n“Pretty well. I had a tough moment when he showed me my Soul.” Gabriel arches an eyebrow at you. “But I think I managed to hide it. He wants out of this deal bad.”\n\n“Excellent.” He folds his hands in his lap. “You’re doing good work Thomas. We appreciate it.”\n\nYou smile. You knew they needed a great actor for this job." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: \"You may now fight the bride,\" said the priest handing the couple their weapons. \"Wait! What?!\" said the confused groom. The groom didn't know about the strange ancient warrior traditions of his bride's family." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Esmerelda, dressed in pristine white, catches her husband with a wicked left cross. His front tooth flies and hits his new cousin, once removed by marriage, in the eyeball. The wedding crowd cheers as the priest drones on.\n\n“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the special union of Esmerelda and Chester.”\n\nThe groom smiles. Now this is marriage! He sucks the blood from his missing tooth and smiles.\n\n“To witness their total commitment to each other.”\n\nChester isn’t a large man, but he’s crafty. He throws a candle at his new bride hoping that the wax gets into her eyes. It works and by the time she opens them, he has already closed the distance with his sword held high.\n\n“To have and to hold.”\n\nShe blocks it like a Greek goddess. The laughter that erupts from her is angelic. Full of joy and reverence for her husband’s skill and cunning.\n\n“In sickness and in health.”\n\nShe knees him in the groin and the crowd gasps. The bride’s mother cringes and thinks about grandbabies. But tradition is tradition.\n\n“’Until death do we part.”\n\nChester, who admits that the last shot hurt, lunges and pins his new wife’s arms behind her back. Together, they are euphoric.\n\n“Should anyone object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace.”\n\nChester looks deep into his wife’s eyes and sees the glory held within. She returns his gaze and feels his over-powering commitment.\n\n“Until death do us part,” Esmeralda says.\n\n“Until death,” replies Chester, as is the custom.\n\nThe wedding party attacks.\n\nEsmeralda and Chester go back to back. She holds a long spear poised over her head. Chester has ripped the scarf off the priest and wraps it around his free hand. The other holds his sword, a wedding gift from his father-in-law.\n\nCousins, aunts, and uncles attack. Even the dog gets in on it, but quickly ignores past family and takes his place next to Chester and Esmeralda. They are a family now, through sickness, and health, and family battles. The dog is, after all, man’s best friend.\n\nChester slashes left and right, protecting his wife’s back. She keeps her spear spinning to protect her husband’s future. The choir breaks out into fight music straight out of a movie. It’s quite the sight.\n\nThey dodge and weave. Turn with each other as if this is a dance they’ve done a thousand times. Somewhere in the Heavens, Homer writes verse based on this wedding. The dog herds the guests into the receiving line where they each receive a blow from the happy couple.\n\nEsmerelda sees her mother-in-law charge to the front.\n\n“My boy! You took my boy!” the mother-in-law screams. She carries a mace and a blood-curdling scream.\n\n“You’re damn right, I did,” Esmeralda screams back as they do battle. Sparks fly and ignite candles nearby to give the room a loveable glow. Esmeralda uses the tip of her spear to slice her mothers-in-law calf. And when dear old mom is on the ground, Esmeralda uses the blunt end to break her nose and knock her unconscious. A foot upon the mother, Esmeralda knows that she will never have this chance again. She screams in triumph.\n\nBehind her, Chester faces off against the two brothers. Both in their early thirties, and large. Even by warrior standards, they are huge. Muscles can be seen through their cumberbunds. Oh, they say they don’t take steroids, but Chester knows better. He also knows that they both still live with their parents not because they want to “help out mom” but because they are moochers. But yet, they are still family.\n\nThey attack together and Chester parries. He hamstrings the older brother and hits him with the hilt of his sword. The brother goes down. The other one is able to slice Chester’s tricep. His right arm useless, Chester firmly stands with his wife. It will take more than a flesh wound to keep him from failing her.\n\nThe priest's speech is now loud, a crescendo of power erupts from his voice.\n\n“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy. It does not boast. It is not proud!” the priest sings with the choir.\n\nEsmeralda sweeps the leg of her standing brother. Chester jumps on top of him.\n\n“It does not dishonor others. It is not self-seeking. It is not easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs.”\n\nChester’s fists rain down righteous commitment on the brother as Esmeralda holds off the bridesmaids, who are coordinated in both movement and in dress.\n\n“Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth! It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”\n\nThe bridesmaids call in the groomsmen and it’s a mob fight. Fists swing and our humble bride and groom take a beating.\n\nThis is marriage. Taking a beating day after day. In the morning, and in the afternoon, the world gives your marriage a beating. But by the night, with enemies vanquished, the happy couple will remain. And so do Esmeralda and Chester.\n\nThe bridesmaids moan on the floor. The groomsmen laugh as they call for a doctor to stitch their cuts. And in the center, still on their feet, are Esmeralda and Chester. Their wedding clothes tattered. Her dress is stained white with the blood of their family. Chester’s arm throbs in pain. But they are still holding hands as if daring the world to give it another try.\n\nAnd the priest finishes:\n\n“And now these three remain: Faith.”\n\nEsmeralda smiles.\n\n“Hope.”\n\nChester returns her smile.\n\n“and Love. But the greatest of these is love.”\n\nAnd the dog barks.\n\n“It is my honor to present to the world Mr. and Mrs. Chester Carpenter. Prepare yourselves, for thine glory is upon you.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: An automated mining drone returns to earth from its mission after being delayed on it's return home. It was constructed roughly 3 million years ago." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was first spotted by NASA's automated meteorite detection system. A cursory review triggered some serious alarms. It had never been detected in our solar system. It moved too fast to get a good view of it from any satelites. It moved at an odd, unnatural angle in relation to the solar plane. It seemed unaffected by the gravity of nearby planets. It had no tail of debris. Most unusual. But none of those mysteries seemed important as it became clear that it was on a collision course, and would impact the Earth in 63 hours. Australia, to be exact. Not that it really matters when it is big enough to cause mass extinction.\n\nThe world went about its business in a normal fashion as, behind the scenes, the world's space agencies scrambled for some alternative. Finally, the United States admitted that it had a solution. A secret platform of weapons hidden aboard a private telecommunications satellite could potentially intercept the item and knock the object slightly awry.\n\nOutraged, but relieved, the world governments agreed. The missiles were fired with only 39 hours left. As they approached the target, with 21 hours to go, the item swerved, dodged, and course-corrected. Scientists were fascinated; military leaders and politicians were horrified. Another barrage failed, in the same manner; 11 hours to go.\n\nAt 5 hours till impact, the object slowed. A faint trail appeared behind it, streaking out into the sky. At (what should have been) 3 hours till impact, it beeped. The world listened as NASA beeped back. 2 hours till impact turned into 6 hours till impact as it slowed again, and beeped twice. 6 hours turned into 12 hours as the speed halved. And at 71 hours till impact, it stopped and parked at Lagrange Point 2.\n\n\"Beep?\" it asked repeatedly.\n\nCodebreakers from around the world assembled, hunched over supercomputers, trying to decipher the beeps. With the perceived danger vanishing, the worldwide cooperation became a worldwide competition. The Chinese stole from the American attempts, stolen from the Russian attempts, which were originally stolen from the Chinese attempts.\n\nThe object sent out a small messenger, shooting through the blackness of space. It arrived on our planet's doorstep, containing only a box; inside, a wealth of rare materials. The nations fought over the metals; the scientists fought over the box. The story grew stranger: engraved on the top of the drone was a logo, of a world with continents and seas. Our world, from 3 million years ago. Radiological tests soon confirmed the truth: the ship was from here, and must have launched when our ancestors were still swinging through the trees. After weeks of analysis, scientists released their findings: compounds containing oxygen in the make-up of the messenger and the metals of the box (matching those found on earth) provided further proof it was of terrestrial origin.\n\n\"We're bringing it in,\" the Americans announced.\n\n\"No, we're bringing it in,\" the Europeans claimed.\n\n\"Not so fast,\" declared Russia and China.\n\nAstronauts scrambled to their rockets; a new space race for the modern age, played out over days, rather than years. The International Space Station became divided, as each party on board doing the observation of the craft turned to helping their compatriots.\n\nRussia's expedition broke orbit first, heading to L2. America followed closely behind. The world watched in anticipation. Just as the Russian craft reached out to the mysterious object, their vessel exploded, victim of American jealousy. The American craft reached the object, pulling it into their cargo bay, and began the long trip back.\n\nBut there was nothing to return home to. Russia, too, was not content to let another nation possess the object. Missiles flew, and the world burned. By the time the American ship returned back to orbit around Earth, there was no one home. The crew died listening to the endless, mysterious \"Beep.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: One night you're messing around out of sheer boredom, and accidentally summon a demon. The demon smirks, and says that it's quite a coincidence to be summoned by another demon." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Millie stared at the figure who had appeared in front of her. She hadn’t expected anything to happen really. There had been some old books up in the attic that she hadn’t seen before, Mom and Bill were away for the weekend, she figured she’d pull them out and have a look.\n\nWhat Millie hadn’t realized was in getting so engrossed in the book, her finger had started tracing the text inside it and she had started speaking the words aloud. Suddenly there had been a growing shadow in the center of the room, and a man appeared. Or at least what looked like a man, short of the black eyes.\n\n“I’m sorry you said I’m a what?” Millie looked at him questioningly. Still not quite believing what was happening in front of her.\n\n“A demon. I said, I can not believe I’ve been summoned to Earth by another demon. It’s not common, you know. In fact short of Lucifer himself calling for someone, I can’t think of a demon calling for another demon. We don’t tend to be the most helpful sort.” the demon stated calmly. He didn’t know if this brat across the room was just daft or putting on an act. Most of the time people either made their deals by now or ran away screaming. She had done neither and seemed to have no idea what exactly she had done. The girl also was not entirely human, of that he was sure. He was Eliakim The Monstrous and he had not earned that name lightly. In Hell, he was used as something of a demon bounty hunter for his ability to track demons. Something about this girl was not right.\n\nMillie blinked slowly; her mind swirling with so many thoughts so quickly that it felt blank at the same time. She opened her mouth and closed it again. Sinking onto the couch behind her, she just could not bring herself to form a coherent thought.\n\nEliakim continued to stare at the girl in front of him and decided that not all there it was. “Now what deal was it you wanted to make? I don’t have all day and if you’ve summoned me there must be something you want?”\n\n“I didn’t mean to summon you. I was just reading this old book I found in the attic. I honestly had no idea what was happening and then all of a sudden you appeared.”\n\nIt was Eliakim’s turn to be confused. He looked at the book she was holding in her hand and there was no reason for that book to be outside of Hell. It was one of their protected documents that was supposed to be under lock and key. Now here was a girl who thought she was human, holding this book, who had somehow summoned him, claiming she knew nothing.\n\nMillie looked at the thing in front of her and did not like the look on his face. “Right, girl you’re coming with me so we can figure this out.”\n\n“With you where?! I am going nowhere!” Millie tried to get up and scramble away but Eliakim was quicker.\n\nBefore she could even blink they were in another room with her arm in Eliakim’s grasp and the book she had read from in his other hand. Across the room was a desk and another man sitting behind it.\n\n“Sir,” Eliakim said, “I’m sorry to bother you. But it seems one of the books from your personal library made its way to Earth. It also seems this girl was able to summon me using it. She also insists she is human and I can tell she is not.”\n\nThe man looked up and for the first time, Millie noticed two horns sticking out of the top of his head. The man rubbed his temples and sighed. “I knew letting her mother keep that damn book would lead to nothing but trouble.” He turned to Millie, “Well Millie, how is your mother? And Bill is it?”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You are a favourite of God. If you pray for something it happens. You have two problems: It works only for things for others and you are an atheist." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It had all started three years ago on my morning commute to work. An idiot had cut me off after passing me with their cherry red Camaro. They had then speed off down the road twenty miles above the speed limit. I did not think anything of it when I thought \"I hope they meet a semi.\" I eventually caught up with the Camaro and what do you know, it had met a semi. I later read in the newspaper that according to the semi driver, the Camaro had cut him off and then buzzed around to in front of him. The Camaro driver had then lost control of their car and wrecked in the right-hand lane, They had hit a piece of trash on the road, a piece of tire. Unfortunately, the semi driver could not swerve or stop in time.\n\nThe next time was during the next month after the first incident. I had to go to a parent/teacher meeting because my son was being bullied again at school. Of course, the bully’s dad, Rob, was there too. After cussing I and my child out for “picking” on his kid I could take no more of his abuse. I stood up and told him “ I hope to God that you find out how it feels to be bullied and cursed out. “ Later I heard it through the grapevine, that Rob was in the hospital. Apparently, Rob had went to the local bar the next night. He had been enjoying his fun night out until things were said by some of the other patrons of the establishment. They had been questioning his heritage, his manhood, and hygiene. Getting tired of this, Rob had taken a swing at the main perpetrator, and the guy had promptly slugged good old Rob in the nose. He went down like a sack of potatoes. The slugger and friends, then stood around Rob calling him names until the cops arrived.\n\nOne instance that I don’t feel guilty for unlike the first two, involves my neighbor Mike. Mike, about six months after the Rob affair, told me that he was worried about losing his job. He and his wife Jane, both 60 years old at the time, would end up homeless if this happened. As I walked away from Mike back to my house, I said out loud “God please let Mike not lose his job and let him have some good luck.” The next week when I asked Mike how he was doing. He smiled as he told me to congratulate him. Instead of laying him off or firing him, Mike had gotten a raise and promotion. Last I heard, Mike had won the lottery for 50 million dollars about a year ago.\n\nAfter Mike, I had a couple theories, because of the thought that one time is a coincidence, but multiple coincidences are fate. My first theory was that the old antique lamp that I had recently bought online contained a genie. To test this theory out, I dunked the lamp in a bucket of water. Since no pissed off wet genies had popped up to bawl me out, I tried out my second theory. That my prayers were being answered by some God or Goddess. I started praying which seemed weird to me since I’m an atheist. I would watch the evening news and say such things as “God, please stop the conflict in XYZ country.” And what do you know, it would be stopped within a week. Or like on the first Christmas holiday since the weirdness started. I decided to test out the God / Goddess theory again. I saw a special report on the local news. It was about this group of poor homeless families in the local shelter. “I said God please let them have a nice Christmas.” Wouldn’t you know it, but a bunch of anonymous donors came forward with presents for the kids, and dinner for everyone. Most surprising of all, people had come forward with job offers for the parents.\n\nI then prayed “God let me have a million dollars.” Nothing happened. “God let me have a new car.” Nada. I then tried for my wife. “God, please let her have a new job.” New job was found by the next Monday. “God, please let my child get into college.” She got into her top pick. Seems that this prayer thing only worked for other people I realized.\n\nNow a days I and my family are still living in the same house but have many less worries. Since my wife and daughter can benefit from what I pray for I also benefit too. I tried to find out who was doing all of these good deeds by saying \"God, can you please show yourself.” When nobody showed up I said “God can you show up to my wife or daughter so that we may thank you.” Still no body showed up. I don’t know if I believe in God or not but I don’t really care. My family, neighbors and community are benefitting so I let it be." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: “Do you even think about the monsters you’ve killed?” The monster asked the hunter. “Yes.” The Hunter replied." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was a chilly night. The sky was clear, showing the pale moon in all its glory. A perfect night for a specter to hunt. But he had to control his urge. For he was not the only hunter around. The specter could smell it in the air: silver and gunpowder and ichor. Seems like a monster hunter was close, and perhaps on its trail. The specter dodges into the unlit alleys of the city, a place that he's stalked ever since he came here. Staying in the shadows, his body merges with the darkness, losing its consistency as it turns itself into a shadow. A perfect camouflage for a night-dwelling hunter. Now, all it needed was patience. Just like the web spun by a spider, as soon as anything stepped foot into the dark alley, the specter would know. And just like a spider, he would be ready to devour its prey.\n\nIt didn't take long for someone to foolisly step into the alley. The specter, of course, noticed. The smell of the hunter was still far away from them, so the specter could feast on its prey in peace. He moves towards the prey to examine it first. A man, wearing a trench coat and a hat, keeping his head down and his hands in his pockets as he strolled around. The specter could not see anything else; not that it needed to. All that was left was to sink it's shadowy tendrils into the human' back as he passed by. With his back turned, the dark apendages slither in the air towards the human, reaching for his neck, his arms, legs and torso. The specter would not take any chances of its prey escpaing or letting out a scream. He wanted to take its time, to savour the moment the he would suck the human's life force out of him.\n\nAs the tendrils draw close enough, they jolt towards the man, twisting and wrapping themselves around him. But something is wrong... the specter hears a slight sizzle before pain shoots through it's dark tentacles, forcing him to let go of the man. There's no mistaking it. Silver.\n\n\"I'll be. So there really was one of you around here.\" The man says as he looks around the alley. \"And here I thought that it was just a serial killer on the loose. Shows what I know.\"\n\nThere's no mistaking it, this man is the hunter. But how could he be here, when the specter can smell his scent a couple of streets away? And how come he doesn't smell of silver at all? No matter. Hunter or not, he is still just a human. \"No match for me\" the specter thinks.\n\n\"Well, why don't we put a face om the tendril. I know you're here, so no use hiding.\" The hunter calls out.\n\n\"Stupid man.\" The specter speaks. \"Just because you found me doesn't mean you can do anything to me. After all, you're still trapped in the dark with me. You're on my domain!\"\n\nThe man chuckles. \"That so? Then let's even the odds a little.\" He then reaches into his coat and pulls out an orb. The hunter holds the orb up into the air and the orb begins to shine, almost as bright as the sun, casting all shadows aside.\n\nExposed, with no shadows left in sight, the specter is rendered powerless. He can't hide, nor fight back. Understanding the danger he is in, he turns around to run away. But only a couple of feet away he trips on a wire which then wraps tightly around it's legs. He claws at it, trying to free himself, but it's useless. It's an enchanted silver wire. No hope to rip it apart. The hunter approaches, gun in hand, ready to put a bullet into the specter. Terrified by becoming the prey instead, the specter cries out to the hunter.\n\n\"It's not fair! We were born this way! What would have us do? Starve to death?\"\n\n\"It would make my job a lot easier if you were considerate enough to weaken yourselves first.\" The hunter says as he steps closer.\n\n\"You... you're cold blooded. And you call us monsters?! Tell me, do you even think about the monsters you've killed?\" The monster asks the hunter.\n\n\"Yes.\" He replies, crouching down to the specter. The blinding light from the orb clutched in his hands reveals a line of crooked yellow teeth contorted into a murderous smile, his face disfigured by scars and a pair of clouded pupils hidden behind a pair of dirty glasses. His breath reeks of cigarettes as he speaks in the monster's face.\n\n\"I think about the werewolf who tore a child to shreds, I think about the demon who possessed a man and made him beat his family to a bloody pulp, I think about the fey who stole a woman's face and laughed as she suffocated to death. I think about you everyday. I think about how good it feels to deliver the same treatment that you deliver us. I think about how humiliating it is for you to be killed by the ones you think of as cattle. And I often think about how easy I am letting you off the hook.\"\n\nThe hunter stands up. A click from the gun and he unloads it into the specter's skull. The monster fades away, as a mad cackle resounds throughout the alley." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: Pregnancy is being outsourced to surrogate mothers overseas." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "She gripped the sheets underneath her, drenched in sweat and tears, previously pristine. The facility sterilized all equipment between births, and the linens were no exception. It wasn’t comfortable…it wasn’t supposed to be.\n\nBeads of perspiration clawed and pricked at her hairline and neck and she blinked them away as they fell into her eyes. The nurse adjacent to her, bathed in sterile drapes was too preoccupied with the fetal heart monitor to care for her discomfort. She inhaled and exhaled slowly as she knew how to ease the pain.\n\n“Variable decelerations,” The nurse read to the obstetrician, who replied, “Turn her.”\n\nThe nurse wedged her off her back, readjusting the IV line feeding her with fluids and mild painkillers. Not because they cared, she was always reminded. In the beginning, they—The Surrogates—used to change their minds. Void their contracts by running off with the babies still attached by their umbilical cords before the placenta detached. Epidurals changed that. Clients who didn’t want their babies introduced to drugs demanded their Surrogates be strapped to the bed instead.\n\nShe was. Her baby—their baby—had an anesthesiologist as a mother and a physician father, she’d found out through her connections. They had been very specific with their demands. No epidural. Mild opioid analgesics. She saw a note that the baby was to be brought to the anesthesiologist immediately following birth so she and the father could perform APGAR scoring personally. Control freaks, she thought.\n\nShe’d done this seven times, but the waves of pain rocking her body never got any easier. It would be the last time, as her womb would not be up to industry standards after this birth. It would be living the good life after this, they told her. A comfortable life.\n\nChildless. As it was meant to be.\n\n“Contractions are coming closer together, eh? You know the drill. We’re going to start pushing.”\n\nHer last chance.\n\nShe nodded silently as the obstetrician moved the stirrups into the more classic lithotomy position and the nurse took her place behind, ready to assist at a moment’s notice. She inhaled and pushed once, riding the wave, making an effort without making an effort. The contraction ended and she exhaled slowly, breathing through the pain.\n\n“Good,” the obstetrician voiced through the surgical mask muffling his voice. “Again.”\n\nShe obeyed, riding the waves of pain and spasms, feeling the baby descending down the birth canal further and further with every second. Time was running short. Labour was hastened with each additional delivery, and like her seventh, this was going to be over in a matter of minutes.\n\n“I can see the head. Almost done, you’re almost done. Last push!”\n\nShe closed her eyes and concentrated, feeling the contraction start to occur again. The fetal heart monitor chirped as the baby’s heart rate disappeared from the womb, and when she opened her eyes again, it was to a loud wail and the sight she had longed for.\n\n“What the fuck—?“ The obstetrician held out the baby in awe, turning toward the nurse to show her, only to be staring down the barrel of suppressed pistol.\n\n“Put the child on her lap. Now.” The man did as he was told, and as she felt the child shivering atop her, she felt her breath hitch and began to cry. The nurse moved around to the front of the bed, gun still pointed at the physician as she undid the wrist restraints around her, so that she could pull the sheets around her and the baby, wiping it down vigorously to dry him off before placing him to her breast.\n\nShe had never breastfed before; she was a Surrogate, not a Wet Nurse, but felt the baby latch instantaneously, his eyes squeezed shut while his mouth moved greedily over her.\n\n“What the hell is all this? That goddamn kid is black! I just saw his parents, they’re—“\n\nHis words were cut off by a single round, fired square between his eyes. Blood spattered violently against the wall and tiles as the obstetrician crumpled to the ground, lifeless. The nurse removed her mask and changed her gloves quickly, rushing back to the bedside to cut the umbilical cord and help deliver the afterbirth. She unlatched the leg restraints and helped the new mother to a sitting position.\n\n“Are you well enough to walk?” She asked. The mother smiled shakily, trying not to glance at the gore only a few feet away.\n\n“I am.” The nurse nodded and assisted her to sitting position. She took the infant over to a warmed and proceeded to clean and dress it as the mother pulled on underwear with padding, a nursing bra and an expensive dress suit, pressed, with a polished diamond pin on the lapel. She worked quickly, carefully standing and walking over to a nearby surgical sink to wash her face and pull her damp, sweat-soaked hair into a sleek bun.\n\nThe nurse returned to her side a moment later with the infant, dressed in a onesie and cap, sucking his fist.\n\n“I know this is hard,” she said, “But we’re almost there. You can do it.” The mother nodded, fighting through her pain and fatigue while slipping on a pair of heels. There was a rap on the surgical bay doors, signaling their time to leave.\n\n“Come on.”\n\nHer last chance.\n\nOn the way out, she passed by a waiting room and saw the anesthesiologist and the physician—who were really the geneticist and fertility physician— and caught their eye in the span of a moment. They smiled at her.\n\nThe nurse threw her scrubs into a linen cart on the way out, revealing a lab coat and stolen identification underneath.\n\nAs they left the facility, she held her breath, expecting to be stopped at any moment. But they weren’t.\n\nThe nurse hailed a cab and held the door for her as she slid into the seat, cradling her new son close. The nurse slid in next to her, slammed the door and gave the driver an address. They pulled away from the curb and drove away, just as an alarm sounded within the building, unbeknownst to them.\n\n“A new mother, eh?” The driver said, looking at her through the mirror. “Congratulations.”\n\nShe looked down at her son—her’s and her husband’s, no one else’s— and smiled.\n\n“Thank you.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: A person discovers they have a superpower that they can only use one time, and one time only." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I would watch Clarissa day dream in class.\n\nShe would not listen to a word the teacher was saying because all she wanted to do was dream of another world outside of the confines of the classroom.\n\nShe would slip her thumb past her perfectly rounded lips and gently nibble on her nail.\n\nIf I could read minds, I would be reading hers, all day, every single day.\n\nThat's not the gift I was given however.\n\nNo, I was given something far more sinister than that.\n\nI was given the power to push a thought into someone else's mind, cautioned with the fact that I could only do it once...and never again.\n\nMy guardian spoke to me saying,\n\n\"This is a non-refundable gift. But remember, boy, that pushing a thought into someone's mind can either be a long lasting, provoking mind behaviour or it can disappear in seconds...a small thought that carries away with a swift wind like it never existed.\"\n\nSo, I set out to plot a thought I could push into Clarissa's mind to make her love me.\n\nMy knee jerking along with the speed of my mind at my desk. Days passed. Where the shadow of the day would show its ugly face on the class' carpets. Time ticking away without a plan.\n\nMy guardian sniggering away behind me, reminding me,\n\n\"Your power will gradually become weaker the more you do not use it, boy,\" with a scornful look. Not much of a guardian, I thought.\n\nWhat made the situation easier, was the fact that Clarissa didn't show any external attractiveness to any of the other boys in class, but what was happening inside her mind, I couldn't account for.\n\nSo I sat...plotting...plotting...rationalising....\n\nI secretly hid a small writing pad in my English novel, so that while the teacher clamoured on about whatever piece of literature we were doing for the semester I could write down a comprehensive, water tight, plan to push a thought so dense into Clarissa's beautiful head, that it would not escape as quick as it was implanted.\n\n\"George!!!\" said the teacher to me in her ear piercing manner.\n\n\"Yes ma'am?\"\n\n\"I can see you are not concentrating. Do you understand the exam is in a couple of days?\"\n\n\"Yes ma'am I am quite awa-\"\n\n\"Hold your tongue. I don't see anything written on your notes in front of you,\" and then moving her head around the class realised Clarissa was also staring out of the window,\n\n\"and you too Clarissa. Move next to each other and start making notes or I will throw you out of this class.\"\n\nThis was bad..\n\nI didn't want to be moved next to Clarissa. What if I couldn't control my power and wasted it in one swift metaphor for premature ejaculation.\n\nI wasn't the one to make the first move. Clarissa grabbed her belongings and planted herself in the chair next to me.\n\nI snapped my book close with the small writing pad within it. If she had seen it my cover would have been blown.\n\nThe mind I was targeting was right next to me. The knee jerking began, as the thought of having the girl I wanted to manipulate sitting right next to me became all too real.\n\n\"Isn't she such a bitch?\" Clarissa whispered my way.\n\n\"Yeah...\" feeling my mouth dry up, \"...total bitch.\"\n\n\"Luckily I'm out of this school with its retarded rules in a couple days.\"\n\nIt felt like an arrow to the chest.\n\nWhat?\n\nHow could this be?\n\nMY guardian roared with laughter from behind us, \"It's now or never chump!\"\n\n\"Shut up you fool,\" I called back to him (in my mind), \"let me think.\"\n\nIt was now or never.\n\nI slowly flipped open the english novel with the writing pad inside and spied what I had written down in the last couple of days, praying that she wouldn't peer over the book and try and see what I was doing.\n\nThe saving grace was that she was day dreaming once again. Looking out of the window. There was a slight drizzle outside. The wind was ever so slightly blowing some of the rain onto the classroom windows. Clarissa would watch the races the water droplets had on the surface.\n\nIn my peripheral vision I saw her turning my way again, which made me snap the book closed. Again.\n\n\"Don't you just love the rain?\" she said smiling.\n\nI exhaled a sigh of relief, thinking she would want to see what I was writing down and said, \"Yes...it is beautif-\"\n\nI had figured it all out. In a matter of seconds.\n\nMy knee jerking stopped. The whole world bled away except for Clarissa. My thoughts all cleared. My anxiety was the size of a pin head.\n\nIn one swift movement, like the slight wind blowing the drizzle onto the window, I moved two fingers to her left temple and said,\n\n\"Love me like you love the rain.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: One evening, an invisible man bumps into a blind woman. She believes he's a regular guy, and eventually agrees to a date." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I knew love never had eyes. Being blind I had to embrace mine. He came from nowhere it felt like.\n\n\"Oh, excuse me,\" I said.\n\n\"It's no problem most people can't see me anyway. You get used to it,\" he replied so casually it made me curious.\n\nSoon conversation led to a date. I found out his name was Relin, odd but charming. Though I will say people and their rudeness made enjoying the night difficult.\n\n\"Um, ma'am and will your date be joining you later?\" The host asked.\n\nI frowned and replied flatly, \"He's right next to me! Are you the blind one?\"\n\nThe host gave me more difficulty, but eventually gave us a booth.\n\n\"Sheesh, he was being a real dick,\" I said to Relin, but he was quiet.\n\nI could hear whispers around me,\n\n\"Who's she talking to?\"\n\n\"She must have an imaginary friend?\"\n\n\"Or she's just crazy maybe...\"\n\nAfter a while our waitress came up to the table, \"Hello, welcome to Navara. What can I get for you to drink this evening miss?\"\n\n\"We'll have two cups of ice water please.\"\n\nShe paused as if confused.\n\n\"If you have a date coming. I can just bring their drink when they come,\" she said politely.\n\nIt still pissed me off, \"Look I won't tell you people again. He is right there!\"\n\nI lay may hand on the table and smile warmly as I feel his hand on mine.\n\n\"Uh... Ok well I'll be sure to have the drinks right out,\" she said awkwardly and I could practically feel her eyes scanning the scene of us uncomfortably.\n\n\"Sophia, there's something I need to tell you,\" Relin said in his heavy but melodic voice.\n\n\"I'm listening Relin,\" I replied calmly as my heart began to race in my chest.\n\n\"About tonight. The way people have been acting towards us there's a reason for it....\"\n\nI leaned forward, more so out of curiosity than straining to hear him.\n\n\"When I met you I told you not many people can see me,\" he went on.\n\nI nodded to show I was following, but I was confused of as to where he was going so I asked, \"You're not going to tell me your some kind of criminal are you? Because you can change. I have more than enough and-\"\n\nHe cut me off with a soft chuckle and said,\n\n\"It's not that people just don't see me. They literally can't.\"\n\nI laughed myself thinking he was leading into some great satirical joke. He wasn't.\n\n\"I'm an invisible man from another dimension. I've been trapped here for over ten years now, but my wavelength never fully set in. Most people cannot see or feel me.\"\n\n\"I-I don't understand. Why are you telling me all of this?\"\n\nI could feel him lean forward intently, clasping my hand a little tighter.\n\n\"Only you can help me Sophia. This love we share is not normal. You bumped into me because your wavelengths were similar to mine. That is how I can become visible, but that doesn't mean I'll be a pretty sight.\"\n\nHe paused and let out a slow sigh, \"I don't even remember what I look like to be honest. But in our embrace I should be able to synchronize my wavelength with your plane.\"\n\n\"Are you human?\" I asked him simply.\n\nHe seemed caught off guard but answered, \"I am. Different, but very much human.\"\n\nI set my hands on the table and let my mind's eye look at his soul.\n\n\"Then none of this matters. Relin, love is blind.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: “Your invasion force is broken. Their technology has been assimilated. Your worlds are now within our reach. We are humanity, and we will never stop hunting you.”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Our first warning they were here came when the ISS fell silent. It was thought to be a technical glitch, until it came plummeting to the ground. It's descent destroyed much of it. However the remains and footage of its fall showed the truth. It was deliberately destroyed.\n\nSuspicion fell on other countries, even as the dead were honoured. But before accusations could be levelled against each other, the culprit revealed themselves. By way of orbital bombardment on the most populated cities. Tokyo, Shanghai, New York. All turned to rubble within minutes, along with a dozen others.\n\nThat was when they made their fatal mistake. They landed upon the ruins, marching out from their ships. If they had stayed aloft, raining death and destruction from the skies, we would have fallen. But they weren't here to eradicate. No, they were here to enslave.\n\nWe refused to allow that. Countries once enemies threw aside differences to ally themselves. Politicians who tried to argue against the rapid union were pulled from office by the public. We joined together. And we fought back.\n\nThe first we did was capture a few of their soldiers. We got a look at our new enemy. They looked much like upright frogs, with a row of spikes down their backs. Each one stood over 7 foot in height, with bulked up bodies. We dissected them, interrogated them, tested viable weapons against them. With the fate of our species at stake, acts like the Gevena Conventions were cast aside.\n\nAnd with that, we found several viable ways to fight back. And much of it we already had in place. Low levels of electricity would kill them, which would only stun humans. Concentrated capsaicin proved incredibly toxic. Blunt force trauma that would bruise us would cripple and kill them.\n\nWe fought back against their advances. Despite their superior weapons, we fought back with riot suppression gear. Tear gas would be fired. Rubber bullets would be used where real bullets were unavailable. There were multiple accounts of those who had lost loved ones taking mixtures of drugs, running straight at the aliens as berserkers. They would rip through them like tissue paper, even as they suffered dreadful wounds.\n\nArmed with this gear, a small group managed to infiltrate one of their landers. Against all odds, they fought their way to their life support equipment. Tear gas was released into the air vents. The entire ship died in agony to the burning fumes. It proceeded to be examined by gather experts from across the planet even as they fought to take it back.\n\nWe learned enough to work out how to get it to function. And with its schematics, further infiltration missions were successful in capturing the others. With their capture, teams of trained soldiers were packed in, as many as could fit. They flew up together, fooling their mothership systems enough to let them dock.\n\nWhen the strike teams entered, they found that these aliens had clearly defined castes. Practically all of their warrior castes were below on the surface. The others were nearly half the size, and considerably less bulky. They provided little resistance as we too control of their ships.\n\nOne ship escaped, the owner of our first captured lander. It fired a single bombardment at the one left below, destroying it before running. As it fled, we sent a message.\n\n“Your invasion force is broken. Their technology has been assimilated. Your worlds are now within our reach. We are humanity, and we will never stop hunting you.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: In a world of muskets and magic, each country has its own monster, their deterrent for war. While a country by the ocean may have a massive Kraken, a country further inland may have a massive dragon. Your country is different, however. You ARE the monsters." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Rutoro was a poor deformed boy. He was resented by all, all except for his sister. In school, on the streets, and even by his other relatives. He could not see them but they were always there. They mocked him for his blindness, his cracked skin, and his eyes. All of the people saw him as a blind, incompetent child, but his eyes were too... evil. They followed people, they would look directly at people without the boy even knowing. The people would avoid and insult him of he got too close. It got to the point where he could not avoid the harassment, not even in his dreams\n\nThe day he thought he hit rock bottom, things only spiraled down deeper. Rutoro's small town was once again invaded. It was much worse than every time before. This was no mere border encroachment, but a conquest. The reports were bad. The Drestonians were mobilizing for a war of conquest. They had released their war beast, an inferno worm, and had already mobilized millions of man. The newly independent Tokouru would be no match for its motherland. No war beast had been gifted from heaven yet, and this drained the resolve of its people and emboldened its enemies.\n\nThe soldiers with their horses and guns had captured the village with minimal difficulties. All of its people were lining up outside of the largest building. Rutoro could hear the sounds of beatings being dished out at the front of the line. They were all labeled traitors and executions were being planned when the ground rumbled. A wave of heat hit the village. Gasps could be heard on both sides. A soldier yelled, \"Your majesty, his Royal Highness. What brings you to this wretched little town.? \"\n\n\"I'm here to set an example.\"\n\nThe prince yelled out, \"This is the reason why you came here! Father, this is inhuman! You can't kill these people for the sins of their leader.\"\n\n\"The fact that this happened is a display of their treachery! They must pay! \"\n\n\"No! \"\n\nA slap rang in the air, \"Silence boy! It was a mistake to take you here! You, take him to the nearest outpost. Now, I want all of these animals tied up to that building.\"\n\n\"Yes, my Lord. \"\n\nSeveral of the soldiers began dragging people towards the building. The prince was sent away on horseback.\n\nRostier grabbed Rutoro when the guards untied them and ran. The two didn't make it very far. A soldier shot Rostier in the back. Rutoro fell with her as she was holding his hand. The soldiers ran up and beat the two with their weapons. Rostier managed to fight back with her little remaining strength, but did the most damage to their egos.\n\n\"Can't even win a fight against a girl.\"\n\nShe was beaten until they knocked her out. When a soldier came to flip Rutoro over, a blood cuddling scream came out.\n\n\"What the hell are you fools yelling about, can you not subdue a girl her blind brother? \"\n\n\"S-sir his e-eyes?\"\n\n\"Move aside,\" the worm moved to a spot where the king could look down, \"what the–\"\n\nRutoro's pupils were shaking and he cried. His cracked skin put it self back together. A soldier tried to beat the boy with his weapon but it shattered. This should have been impossible, the blow was not that hard. The soldier tried again, this time with his bare hands. It simply broke on contact. The rest of the soldiers fired their weapons but no damage was done. They resorted to trying to shoot Rostier. Rutoro picked her up and ran. The king's worm spit the molten rock, kept in its stomach, out. It did not hit and Rutoro kept running. All of his thoughts were towards stopping the fading life force he could feel leaving his sister every second. The boy ran, ran as fast he could. It was the fastest anyone had seen a human run before.\n\nRutoro was crying, crying and running. He did not know how fast he was going, but knew where. He knew the Capitol was northeast of his town. It was the late afternoon so the boy used some simple logic to figure out where to run. He kept running until life could be sensed in the distance. Hundreds of thousands of people, all stuck in a fortress with no escape. An army had surrounded it.\n\nRutoro ran past the enemy, jumped over the trenches, and finally over the 25 meter high wall.\n\nGuards immediately rushed to the commotion, weapons ready. There, all they could hear was a young boy calling for a doctor. They pushed through the crowd and saw a crying child holding, presumably his sister, at the edge of the wall.\n\n\"Hands in the air! \"\n\n\"Take me to a doctor, now!\" it was a desperate cry.\n\n\"Hands in the air, kid.\"\n\n\"No, I don't have time for this, I need a doctor now!\"\n\nAnother soldier piped up, \"Captain, just give the boy what he wants. It could get him to tell us what we want\"\n\n\"... Fine, escort them to a hospital.\"\n\nRutoro was impatienly taken to the closest medical facility.\n\n\"I want her to be treated now! \"\n\nThe doctor replied back calmly, \"Son don't talk to me like that. I was already planning to do what ya asked, and the girl is clearly important to you, and I have her life in my hilands.\"\n\n\"... Sorry, sir.\"\n\n\"That's better. \"\n\nThe doctor took Rostier inside the building while the guards pulled him away.\n\n\"You will explain yourself in front of the council.\"\n\n\"Fine by me,\" Rutoro picked up the head guard and jumped up to the rooftop, \"Where are they at?\"\n\nThe stunned captain replied, \"i–in that building,\" the soldier pointed towards a large courthouse.\n\nRutoro jumped, captain in hand, to the courthouse. All of the city looked on, in shock. Rutoro landed right in front of the elegant wooden doors at the entrance of the courthouse. Five old men came out after some knocking.\n\n\"Who are you boy?\"\n\n\"I am Rutoro. I will serve this country to its end.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: After you turn 18, you have 365 days to find your soul mate. If you don't then you both cease to exist." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It didn't take humanity very long to figure out the rules behind \"The Effect\". Things were a little \"Children of Men\" there for awhile but soon the kids starting sticking around. After that it was a matter of digging into the how of the why.\n\nJoint research between MIT and mathematicians in Hungary managed to prove that consciousness is largely a result of quantum entanglement. From there it was a hop, skip and jump to finding a way of reading an individual's entanglement pattern. Two years later, there was an app for that.\n\nNow when you turn 18, you install the app and shine the invisible beam in your eye. There's a list of formulas, and you just pick whichever one stands out at you. It somehow works every single time. Once there's a match, you both get free airfare to meet up and do the whoopie so you don't disappear.\n\nOf course there are other entanglements. Bad relationships between countries, for example. No citizens of DPRK are allowed to leave, so matches to citizens there from outside the country have to just fly in and risk never being allowed to leave again. It's either that, or \"fwoomp\". Nobody wants the \"fwoomp\"; allegedly quite a number of westerners found themselves capable of being quite happy under the protection of glorious leader.\n\nAnd there are other problems. Activists in countries that are protective of citizens' rights have willfully demanded not to have to meet their soulmate. Their governments have done their best to protect them in hiding. \"My Body, My Rights.\" Fwoomp.\n\nAnd of course somebody hacked the app from inside the digital walled garden. People wiped their brows, \"shoo, good thing that's over\", and even though they didn't get that elated feeling the survivors always talked about, can't be one to stand in the way of nature. In the sack they went, thinking everything was safe and that they were protected, only to get the fwoomp a year later.\n\nThere were disastrous effects on life insurance. Insurers demanded their right to proof of death, which could not be given in these cases. Morticians wouldn't sign proof without an examination. The law was forced to list the fwoomped as missing persons. You don't get life insurance over missing people.\n\nSome folks are demanding an international registry. When you meet your soul mate and survive to 19, you and they sign onto the registry. Anybody who's aged 19 years and not signed the registry, they want declared dead and just in case they were too lazy to sign, they want them made non-persons, or criminals, or both. And yes, it's because death has consequences and because the fwoomp cheats some people of that, they feel the living should be scapegoats.\n\nI and my soul mate met over the app and both took our free air fare into Belgium. We got the elated, floaty feeling and consummated our bond in a hotel in the Hague. The kid was crawling and \"gug-gug\"-ing before our 19th birthdays.\n\nSome theoreticians suggest we all need to be open to the possibility that the successive generations created by The Effect might be less susceptible to it. There are some claims of anecdotal evidence of individuals being more difficult to match than others. That could just as easily be bad news than good. Why assume things will get any better? I say keep the matter closed." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: Magic spells are a shared resource, the more people who know a particular incantation the weaker it gets as it's power is diluted amongst multiple users. The most powerful spells are those that remain closely guarded, such as magic handed down within a family or sworn to secrecy within a guild." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Brad, how many more?” Volrock asked, eyeing the hologram projection of the city before him.\n\n“Five in the city, Vol,” Brad replied nonchalantly, stubbing the live fag on Volrock’s dining table. The latter wasn’t pleased about the fact in the least, but he held back his rebuke. This wasn’t time for internal strife, he reasoned, as Brad stowed every casual comment deep in his memories for revenge. And he was dangerous, as was his Zactack family heirloom. Disintegration.\n\n“You know what spells they use?” Volrock asked, strolling back to the dining table.\n\n“Nah,” Brad waved his hand. “They aren’t budging. The chick’s too upright to succumb to my advances too. I suppose it’s time I show them my spells.”\n\n“No killing,” Volrock said sternly and watched him walk out of his house. He closed his eyes, rubbing his throbbing temples. The hologram illuminated the house spottily, and Volrock settled down against the table. He focused his attention on gathering chi breaker from the damp place and chanted a myriad of words in his head. Within seconds, he was in the hospital, his home for the past couple of years.\n\n“Dad!” Rach peered her head out of the duvet covering her. “Stop scaring me like that!”\n\nVolrock smiled and walked over to Zare, who was asleep, half leaning on the bed. He lifted her up, and her eyes opened for a few seconds before she snuggled in his embrace and fell asleep again. After tucking her under the sheets on the sunk bed, he took her original seat.\n\n“You feeling better, baby?” Volrock asked, holding her petite hand. Her genetic disease ran in their family, and it was the main reason for male predominance. He didn’t have a clue about this, and his old man had divulged the important bits on his dying break. After Rach’s birth. But he hadn’t expected the curse to continue. Not on his beloved family.\n\n“The cramps in the night are killing me, but I’m fine otherwise,” Roch smiled, but she couldn’t mask her emotions well enough. Volrock noticed her cracked lips, her shivering hands, and the perspiration on her forehead.\n\n“Another onslaught?” he asked, hurting for her, as he wiped her damp forehead using his sleeves.\n\nShe nodded, now in tears. “It hurts, dad. It feels like something is crawling inside of me, eating my bones¬–“ she stopped, her eyes unfocused, and she lost consciousness.\n\nVolrock tried his best to stop the tears. He felt Zare’s arms around him, safe arms. “She’ll be fine, love,” she said softly, and he buried his head in the crook of her neck. “I can ease her pain, but that’s all I can do.”\n\nHe stayed there for a while, in his wife’s embrace, before walking out of the room. He had to find the rumored arts of healing, and it was his only chance at helping Rach. Closing his eyes forced him to see the obvious results, but he clenched his teeth and teleported right beside Brad.\n\nA conversation of Brad with a lady had turned to flirting, and Volrock tried his best to contain his anger. He had hired the mercenary on a whim, but apart from his skills, the lad had nothing to offer. He hadn’t hesitated to betray him multiple times either.\n\nThe lady on his lap screamed in fright as she ambled out of Brad’s embrace and continued out of the room. The glittering lights of the private room made him feel nauseated. Empty bottles of alcohol lay sprawled before him on the table, and he didn’t miss the empty packets of drugs either. He didn’t care. Brad was resourceful, and that’s all mattered.\n\n“You found them?” Volrock asked, clearing his throat. Teleporting multiple times was taking a toll on his body.\n\n“My pay first,” he said, holding a piece of paper in his left.\n\nVolrock took out his cash card and handed it to him. “Eight million ouns.”\n\n“You not changing your mind about the teleport magic?” He asked, almost drooling.\n\n“Eight million ouns,” Volrock repeated and extended his hand.\n\n“Fine,” he swapped their hands quick and leisurely walked out of the room. “I’m just a call away,” he said before closing the door.\n\nVolrock glanced at the address and the name of the magic. It felt familiar, but he couldn’t quite remember where he had heard it. Maybe on his old man’s dying breath? He wasn’t quite sure.\n\nHe closed his eyes, gathering the pungent chi breaker of the club. He was at the address in seconds, albeit not quite at the entrance.\n\n“Mr. Kamizaka,” Volrock called, much to the surprise of the man behind the worktable. He felt guns behind him. Not that he cared anyway. If the man before him could cure their girl, he was ready to give up everything.\n\n“Who are you?” Gou wasn’t bothered by the intrusion.\n\n“I am the sole heir of Mizas,” Volrock bowed respectfully because the man before him was three generations older. He realized this when he saw the portrait of the man behind him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”\n\n“The teleports? That’s a surprise,” he looked interested. “And your reason?”\n\n“I need your help to cure my daughter,” Volrock said. “I have heard wonders about your secret art of healing.”\n\nHe stood up upright, his grey hair almost covering his eyes. “And what do I get in return?”\n\n“Anything you ask for,” Volrock promised, placing his fist on his chest. A mage’s promise.\n\n“Your family heirloom?” He raised his eye in interest.\n\n“I am ready to give it up,” Volrock moved slightly, his knees giving him trouble standing erect for long. Side effects, he knew.\n\n“Take me to her,” Gou said, grabbing his overcoat from the coat stand beside his worktable.\n\nVolrock nodded, stepping closer to the man, and enveloped them in the strong chi breaker before force teleporting. It worked, and they both ended up in his hospital room at the right time.\n\nGou leaned before her, without being surprised in the least, and began diagnosing her by just looking. There was a pause before he turned to Volrock. Zare stood rooted, and Volrock reassured her with a nod.\n\n“Find me two years ago,” Gou said, folding his hands behind him. “She is almost dead.”\n\n“I cannot,” Volrock almost shouted. “Too many know of the spell, so the potency of time teleport is too low. I can hardly travel back and forth for a few days.”\n\n“There’s another option,” Gou walked toward the door. “Kill everyone who knows the spell.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: When it comes to donations, Churches are very persistent to ask for them because it’s the money needed to stay in the house of god. During a sermon an angelic figure appears in the center of the room, with a message directly to the priest. “You’re behind on rent.”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When angels arrived back to earth I'd thought they'd bring warmth with them. A heavenly trail of comfort that would expand into the room and bring a sense of calm washing over all lucky enough to be near. I had grown up thinking this, reading the bible and imagining the archangels Micheal and Gabriel as greek statues: both unbreakable and perfect. But I'd since learned to not be so naive.\n\nAt the front of the stage the church choir hummed in unison, their electric song echoed through the pews until we all sang along to their tune. It was a new song, \"O' Glory\", they'd called it, and by council of the crowd it was proving to be their best.\n\nAs they sang the choirs purple robes swayed in a transe like pattern, a sea of swirls that I found myself quickly lost in. The song that of a siren, their dress the waves. But the moment passed as a man to my right shook the donation bowl at me.\n\n\"Donation?\" He looked to me with pale blue eyes.\n\n\"Sorry, yes.\" Quickly I reached to my pocket, but was cut short by a gust of wind. A chill that swept through the pews and sent my hair standing on end. I watched on as in front the choirs face grew wrinkled with confusion. The room grew colder by the moment, frost now licking up at the edges of the stained glass windows. The song stopped. The priest now retook the stage with a paleness on his face I had not seen before. He shook, whether by nerves or the cold I could not tell.\n\n\"Uhh- It's alright folks, just a cold front heading on in! Must be the church doors openin', I'll get someone to check-\"\n\nIn a great flash of light something massive appeared at the ceiling, cutting the priest short and bringing another burst of chilled wind with it. My eyes struggled to make out the figure. An incomprehensible mass of hands and wings, of interlocked arms forming great rings that rotated slowly around a single bulging eye. Some screamed, ran to and out of the doors. Others fainted to the floor in a clatter of things. And more, like me, just stared.\n\n\"Be not afraid servants faithful! I am Micheal, Archangel, I am not here to harm, only to speak to your priest.\" Its bulging eye turned to Priest Kratz, who stood as a statue now.\n\n\"Kratz! I am here to inform you that you are two months late on rent!\"\n\n\"I...well you see donations have been low lately- so.\" Our priest replied with a stutter.\n\nMicheal turned to me now, casting his gaze down upon me and then down further to the filled bowl in my shaking hands. I felt splinters in my throat l. Too afraid to speak, to even move.\n\nUp front Kratz shriveled on the stage.\n\n\"The bowl is full of offerings from faithful servants, yet you do not give back to whom you serve! Kratz, your punishment shall be swift!\"\n\nKratz turned in attempt to run, but only made it a step before his body contorted in odd shapes. Instantly he was squeezed into a two dimensional figure, then broken apart into an array colorful pieces. Pieces depicting an image of the man he was before.\n\nA stained glass Kratz. A single tear falling down his cheek in the image. The eye glared down to his handiwork, then watched as the new window rose up into place above the stage.\n\n\"Now, is there anyone who wishes to donate to the house of god?\"\n\nEvery hand left in the room shot up." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1400-1500 words. Prompt: After years of writers block, you manage to create your own fictional novel, about the government, and their top secret files. Coincidentally, without even knowing, you revealed actual government info. Now your being interrogated by government agents." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Reality can be so strange and unpredictable sometimes that it seems like it must be fake or staged in some way. Truth is stranger than fiction, as they say, whoever they are. Though in light of recent events, I think \"They\" finally found the time to come around out from the shadows and I am all the poorer having met them.\n\nThere was a time in my writing career when I thought I could come up with the most erroneous, outlandish idea and pitch it as if it were gospel. My precious few fans liked the monster stories and the crappy love triangles I drew, but in recent years, my fan club has shrunk to a pitiful group barely large enough to fill a room. Likely due to the fact I haven't written anything in years.\n\nCall it what you will, writer's block, author's cramp, penman's palsy - the truth is I was just lazy, my heart wasn't in it. Every plot point escaped me no matter how hard I chased it down the rabbit hole, and it felt like there was nothing I could do.\n\nUntil last weekend that is.\n\nIn a second wind of sorts, I furiously wrote like I'd never written before, page after page of poorly formed ideas and angles. It was dreck and I knew it, but it didn't matter to me. I was writing again, that was what was important. I swallowed my pride and built up the courage to post it online for free, whether in hopes of grabbing the attention of future readers or just a dying attempt at recognition as an artist, I do not know.\n\nReception was better than I could have hoped for; thousands of readers gobbled it up like a fat Christmas ham. I was riding the high of such a minor success for days until the entire site was taken down abruptly, and there was no word from anybody for a few days. It was almost like someone blindsided me and I had no creative control anymore. So I did the only thing someone in my position would have done.\n\nBefore I could even start my long, hopeless Twitter rant, I heard a knock on my door. As I went to open it, the knocking turned into banging which then turned into several masked men in uniforms screaming my name along with commands I couldn't quite hear over the incessant yelling.\n\nThey put a bag on my head, drove me around for sometime until we arrived at our destination. I knew better than to ask questions, I was sure there was a reason for all of it. I was also scared shitless.\n\nI didn't know where we were, though my best guess was an abandoned warehouse by the pier with several shallow graves out back next to a large man they call Tiny.\n\nNow, as they removed the bag over my head, I saw where the strange men had taken me. It wasn't the shady murder house I had suspected, but given time, I was sure I'd see the dark side of the place. Clean white walls, a sleek metal table, and two dour-looking gentlemen in suits filled the room. Government men if I'd ever seen them.\n\n\"Do you know why you're here, Mr. Howitz?\" the first man asked. So now they wanted to talk after all this time spent brooding in the car.\n\nI rustled in the thick cuffs they had shackled me with, \"Are these really necessary?\"\n\nThe second man sighed and produced a key from his back pocket and, without a word, unlocked the cuffs. Not quite home free yet, but inches to miles.\n\n\"But no, I have no idea why I'm here. Was it something I said?\" I asked.\n\nThey took their seat across from me, placing their badges on the table in front of them. A fat lot of good the badges did, seeing as I didn't recognize any of the departments they claimed to be from. Granted, I only know what the movies tell me.\n\n\"You can call me Mr. Silver, and my partner here is Mr. Pink.\" the first man said.\n\nI furrowed my brow, \"You're kidding.\"\n\n\"It was not quite something you said, Mr. Howitz,\" Silver continued, ignoring my remark, \"It was something you wrote. It was a, as what we like to call it in the business, a complete disaster of epic proportions.\"\n\n\"Everybody's a critic...\" I mumbled.\n\n\"How did you come across the information you wrote about?\" asked Mr. Pink. I don't know what he did to earn himself such a name, but I'd never seen a more angry individual.\n\n\"Would you believe me if I said divine intervention?\"\n\nIt took me longer than I care to admit to react to the pain from the left jab Pink threw at me. I'd never been punched before and I didn't know how to handle it. So I let my instinct take over.\n\n\"Oh God, please don't kill me, please. I have a wife and family, I have kids for God's sake! Just let me leave!\" I shouted.\n\nSilver plopped a thick file onto the table, \"We have your file here. You're not married and have no kids. Don't bullshit us.\"\n\nCan't fault a guy for trying.\n\n\"What do you psychos want from me?\"\n\n\"Where did you get the information about Project Wyrmwood?\" Silver prodded.\n\nGears turned in my head, grinding to a halt when I recognized the name. It seemed like my fan club was getting bigger all along.\n\n\"I'm flattered that you've read my works, truly, but that isn't even the best part of the story. The real juicy stuff comes in the second act with the-\"\n\nAnother punch landed right in my sternum knocking the air out of my lungs. At this rate, I wouldn't be walking home in one piece.\n\nSilver slammed his hands on the table, echoing through the room, \"Project Wyrmwood, how do you know about it?\"\n\nI gasped for air and fought the urge to vomit. Torture wasn't my cup of tea apparently.\n\n\"Nothing! I swear! I came up with the whole idea at, like, two in the morning operating solely on five-hour energy and wine. That's all!\"\n\nI paused for a moment, \"Wait a sec. You're government guys. Holy shit, is Wyrmwood real?\"\n\nSilver gestured to Pink and they huddled in the corner, whispering to each other. I couldn't tell what they were saying, but I hoped it was about the horrible mistake they'd made and that I was free to go. No such luck.\n\nSilver turned around and faced me, \"Your depiction of project Wyrmwood in your published novel directly mirrors a top-secret facility that even the president doesn't know about, and you're telling me its a coincidence?\"\n\n\"As coincidental as aliens speaking English when they invade,\" I said.\n\n\"You know about that too?\" demanded Pink.\n\n\"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me.\"\n\n\"This guy know too much, Silver, he's got to go.\"\n\nSilver crossed his arms and hummed. If I knew any better, I'd say he was wondering how they would make me disappear.\n\n\"How about this, Mr. Howitz, we make a deal,\" said Silver.\n\n\"Does this deal involve me getting hit again? Because I'd rather that didn't happen again.\"\n\n\"We can let you go back home, but you will be under constant surveillance and you must never write another story again, even a Goddamn journal. You hear me?\"\n\nI nodded. Talking back to these wonderful gentlemen had resulted in me getting pummelled, maybe silence was the key to success in this situation.\n\n\"Good,\" said Pink, \"That sounds reasonable. We will continue our investigation, however, so do not think for a second that you're off scot-free.\"\n\nAnother bag was draped over my head and I was dragged through hallways and building until I was dropped into a car and sent on my way. The drive back to my house seemed shorter than the drive away. Funny how fear works like that.\n\nI was gently kicked to the curb and the bag was removed from my head. Before I could scan for faces, the car sped off into the distance, along with any evidence of my kidnapping aside from a bruised face and a sore abdomen.\n\nI walked back into the house and dropped into bed immediately. I ignored the horrid mess they'd made in tearing up my room, but that was the least of my worries now.\n\nAs I slowly drifted into a state of catatonia, I kept replaying the events in my head. Coincidences are a funny thing; you never really see them coming.\n\nAll of this happening and I only had one thought: you just can't make this shit up." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You are a cell in a body that has died. Chronicle your world's impending doom." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ed was waiting to get in to 'The Liver'. It was happy hour. Everyone was waiting, but nobody was allowed in yet.\n\nFrank, the bar tender, came out of 'The Liver'. \"Closed today folks! The daily drink didn't come it, sorry!\"\n\n\"What the hell? Its happy hour on Friday!\" Everyone grumbled as they went back to what they where doing.\n\n\"Must be another report due,\" said Carl, \"or maybe he's visiting the parents again.\"\n\nCarl was probably right, but it wasn't normal for the big guy to leave a report go until Friday, and he just visited the parents last weekend. Friday was when the big guy partied. If he got lucky afterword, everyone would rush into the boner, that was always fun. It was shaping up to be a boring Friday.\n\n\"You're probably right.\" said Ed, \"Whad'ya wanna do then?\".\n\n\"Let's go see what Elma's up to, she'll probably know whats up.\"\n\nElma was a nerve cell. Nerve cells knew what was going on before anyone else. They hopped into a vein to go back to the heart, from there they would be able hop into an artery to get to the leg where Elma lived. They got back to the heart faster than usual, the big guy must have been running, or maybe riding his motorcycle. His heart was always beating fast when he rode his motorcycle.\n\n\"Fast trip.\" said Carl.\n\n\"Yep.\" said Ed.\n\nSomething didn't feel right, that was too fast. Ed decided not to worry about it until they talked to Elma, she would know what was up. They tried to get into the artery, but the heart was pumping too fast, the valve close before they could get out.\n\n\"That wasn't normal.\" said Carl.\n\n\"Nope.\" Ed replied.\n\nThey where stuck, they couldn't get out of the fourth chamber. They turned and asked a heart nerve what was wrong.\n\n\"Dunno, everything's going crazy! We can't work this fast!\"\n\nThen everything stopped. Ed and Carl could feel the pressure drop real fast. Things didn't look good.\n\n\"Shit. Follow me, I heard about this.\" said Ed.\n\n\"Heard about what?\".\n\nEd wiggled towards the nearest capillary, Carl followed. Some other cells drifted into last chamber, screaming \"The Oxygen stopped!\"\n\n\"Did you hear that Ed! Do you know what that means? We're all done for!\"\n\n\"Shut up and keep following me.\"\n\n\"There is no where to go! The oxygen stopped, the big guy is dead!\"\n\n\"Just keep following me!!!\"\n\nIt was hard moving without blood flow. Most of the time they had to bump off of other cells that were screaming, crying or cursing. Carl didn't know what Ed had in mind, but he didn't see any other choice.\n\nThey where both tired. They had waited long at the liver and hadn't really stop in the lungs for long on their way to the heart. Ed saw a small capillary ahead. He went for it as quickly as he could.\n\n\"What now?\" asked Carl.\n\n\"Hold on.\" said Ed.\n\nThey heard an awful crunching sound, and cutting, and other cells screaming in terror. The other cells in the chamber poured out, the heart was draining. They could see light through the valve. Light is never a welcome sight for a blood cell, especially if you are in the heart.\n\nEd and Carl held on the edge of the capillary, looking at the empty chamber in front of them. Carl was convinced this was the end.\n\nThings got dark again, then things got really cold. Really cold.\n\n\"I told you we're done for, it doesn't get this cold inside of someone who is alive!\" screamed Carl.\n\n\"We aren't in someone who is alive.\"\n\n\"Then where are we!\" demanded Carl.\n\n\"In a box.\" said Ed.\n\nCarl looked sick when Ed said that. Ed laughed, he knew his plan was working. He had done the impossible and he already knew it.\n\nIt seemed like they survived longer than they would have ever thought possible, in the cold dark box, without blood flow or oxygen. Ed was becoming less sure that they would make it.\n\nSuddenly bright white light lit up the chamber again, they heard more cutting and frightening noises. Carl panicked, Ed had given up on keeping him calm at this point. Things started to get dark again, suddenly the blood flow started again. Lots of unfamiliar blood cells filled the chamber.\n\n\"We're alive...\" said Carl, he couldn't believe it.\n\n\"I know.\" said Ed.\n\n\"Well... HOW!?!\"\n\n\"Its called a transplant, when the young ones die, they take out the good parts to give to other ones who need it.\" explained Ed.\n\n\"We're in a different person now?\" asked Carl, astonished.\n\n\"Yep, lets hope this one wears a helmet.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Everyone is born with a date of death on their chest. Yours was set for last week, sending everyone into a frenzy." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was born 29 years ago, nothing special about me to be honest, just another baby in this overcrowded world... Well nothing special until a week ago, now I'm trying to survive between scientists and religious people, why is that? Let me explain it to you, everybody is born with the date they will die on their chest, to put it simple: just say an expiration date for humans. My existance was supposed to end 7 days ago, all arrangements had been made as per usual: debts paid, family farewells, belongings sold, etc. So I was in the cemetery (not to be creep, but since everybody can walk to their grave it's unnecessary for people to carry other's coffins), laying in my black coffin, that I've personally chosen a couple of months back, my parents sitting next to me, a couple of friends and a doctor (which really wasn't necessary but it was a legal requirement to document the death of the person). The hours passed and nothing happened to me, I kept making jokes, listening to my friends chat, wondering how would it feel, what would happen after, you know, the usual when you're in your own wake, but as the day turned to night everyone started to get nervous and so was I, since more people start to gather around us. When the morning arrive so did the local news, police, doctors and a couple of priests. The police formed a circle around us in order to avoid incidents, but before the dawn was over we had to move guarded to a laboratory, and I say 'we' as a nice way of saying 'I was taken away from my family and basically throwed in a cell to be studied'. Well, the first round of studies were the usual, blood and urine test, brain scan, x-rays, physical exams, cardiologists, neurologists, psychologists and psychiatrists asking what happened as if I could give them an answer. I guess their first theory was that I modified on purpose my chest date, theory that was shut down really quickly when the dermatologists arrived and confirmed that my skin was intact. Hours went by asnwering questions, feeling like a rat lab, eventually they let me sleep. As the days and tests continue I started a friendship with one of the guards, an extremely religious man who thought I was some kind of miracle sent by God, he let me know about the chaos my not-death had caused: countries demanding to study me and religious groups praying for my death since for them my life was an affront to God. Together we planned my escape, at dinner time I used to be alone as recommended by the psychologists, so we took that time to change me into lab coats and as we walked toward the exit I started to cut my hair to disguise a little bit, he gave me white glasses and I gave him some strands of hair, it was the only thing I had at the moment, and since he thought of me as a miracle it might be the best gift he ever recived as tears fell from their eyes. According to the plan he talked to the other guards and send them to have a break, they hessitated but eventually left to the other room, that was my signal to left my hiding place. I ran to the woods nearby and heard the shots, without looking back I ran as fast and far as I could, found a cave and lay there. Its been a couple of hours and I can hear the dogs, helicopters and crowds, I look down my chest and now the date has changed... It's five minutes from now" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: All intelligent species in the galaxy evolved at similar times, all evolved along similar paths, and all developed civilization in similar ways. All that is, except for Humanity." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was really just statistics. With a large enough universe, across a large enough span of time, even incredibly unlikely events were going to happen. Intelligent life on Earth is, at the outside, a hundred thousand years old. Now that's on a planet that is 4.3 billion years old orbiting a second generation star only slightly older in a 46-billion light year wide universe staring at its 14 billionth birthday. Those are big numbers and so intelligent life came along.\n\nThis intelligent life eventually went out into that massive ancient universe to explore. The biggest question driving them was \"are we alone?\" That question had occupied philosophers for millennia - tiny compared to the age of the universe, but massive compared to one human's lifespan.\n\nFor a thousand years, humans searched for any other signs of intelligence. They were limited to their own galaxy and one or two close neighbors. Even with faster than light travel, it still took far too long to search such a massive volume of space. They formed colonies and outposts. They fought wars and made treaties. They lived and died, loved and hated. And still they were no closer to knowing if they were alone.\n\nFinally, one of the \"lesser\" species the humans had been watching began to pull itself up the intellectual ladder. Fire was tamed. Wheels were fashioned. Animals were domesticated. Simple plants were farmed. The humans watched with wide-eye curiosity. They has guess that was how their development had happened but now they could watch it happen.\n\nThere were debates and arguments. Should they interfere? They could step in and help these new creatures - so unlike them and so agonizingly familiar. Humans could teach them how to breed animals and plants for better survival. Think of all the lives it would save! was the unspoken rallying cry. Humans could teach them about justice and laws. Humanity could act as a benevolent guiding hand helping this new race skip ahead thousands of years of development in the blink of an eye. Those creatures could be spared all the horrors of humanity's own history.\n\nHumanity sent a delegation to the lesser beings to help them. The creatures were frightened and attacked the human delegation out of fear. The humans retaliated. There was blood shed on both sides. The creatures took to describing humanity as demons - evil spirits from beyond the sky sent to torture and destroy. The new \"religion\" spread from tribe to tribe.\n\nThe human delegation raced to outrun the story. They attempted another contact with a far distant tribe. The second attempt went better. The humans began teaching them better ways of doing a thousand different things. The creatures in the new tribe began worshiping the humans as gods - benevolent spirits from beyond the sky sent to guide and nurture. This second new religion began spreading also.\n\nWhen the two religions met, it turned into brutal warfare. Neither side willing to budge and convinced of the righteousness of their own cause. As one side would be defeated, the survivors would seek out other tribes of the same religion. Counter-attack followed attack. Within five years, the population of the creatures had dropped below the necessary amount to sustain a species. Humans had once again forced a species extinct.\n\nThe humans were appalled at their own behavior and results. They argued for years over what happened. They held trials looking for someone to blame. They vilified those who had said we must help the lesser creatures.\n\nThen humanity saw a second chance. An exploratory ship had found another species on the verge of civilization. Farming was still new and only a scant handful of animals had been domesticated - but a civilization was clearly being born. This time there was no debate among the humans - they would not interfere.\n\nBut no debate does not mean unanimous support. A few people, well meaning people, could not stand the thought of an intelligent being suffering while they did nothing. Clandestine missions were undertaken to the new creatures. The humans would go in small groups of two or three and never in any large ships. They wore disguises to make themselves look like the creatures. They learned the local language and tried to blend in. They would subtlety help the creatures through knowledge. Eat this plant to hep your pain. Save some seeds of those plants and toss them in the dirt. Keep your favorite animals close and breed them with others of a more docile temperament.\n\nThe human authorities suspected that the new creatures were getting help but couldn't prove it. The rebels were careful and had sympathizers throughout the ruling class. As long as the aid was subtle and did not divert the creatures too far from their natural development, the authorities turned a blind eye to them.\n\nThe creatures were smart though and began to suspect the humans. As the creatures grew more sophisticated, they questioned more and more how some of them knew so much more than others about so many things. The humans, who meant well but had little training, said that the spirits had spoken to them. The creatures were pacified for a time for each of them knew that the world was full of spirits.\n\nOne day a small child saw one of the humans removing part of her disguise. The shape underneath was terrifying to the child who began screaming which brought the village. The suspicions of earlier returned full force. The humans were attacked and driven out. They were hunted and killed when they were found. The story of traitorous beings in the tribe swept across the world.\n\nThe human authorities were outraged when they heard of this. Once more humanity had crushed the natural development of an intelligent species. New laws were passed making it a capital offense to interfere in any way with a less developed species. Aiding someone who was doing so was a lifetime prison sentence. There would be no more forgiveness for this crime.\n\nWithin a decade, a hundred more species had been discovered. Most were land animals, a few were amphibious, and two were aquatic. The authorities brutally enforced the no contact law. A dozen people were shot down in space for trying to approach an inhabited planet. Thirteen people were executed in the first year alone for violating the law. A massive scandal erupted when a conspiracy was uncovered to find these rising intelligences before the authorities. Almost a hundred people went to prison for that.\n\nToday, humans are guided by the \"Invisible Shepherd\" philosophy. In essence, it states that a gentle guiding force is acceptable but only if it is impossible to tell that humans did it. Comets and asteroids have been diverted off course. Droughts have been ended unnaturally. Wars have been stopped because an opposing general was hit by lightning.\n\nWe are the elder brothers of a large family. The younger brothers must be respected and allowed to make their own mistakes. Humanity learned and survived. We hope that each of our younger brothers grows up and joins us in their own time." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: The little girl is crouched in a makeshift pile of sandbags and brush, aiming her automatic rifle at the oncoming APC. Her death is immanent. No. You decide this will be different. You're a god of war and you've had enough." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He found himself in a moment of peace. It was a near-novel experience, and foreign enough that he wasn’t sure he liked it.\n\nStill, he wouldn’t - even couldn’t - be here if it was truly a place of peace. Warfare was surely about to erupt. In the meantime he decided to examine the area.\n\nA small home that had clearly been well taken care of until recently was in the midst of a copse of trees. The wind - not enough to deflect a bullet of this century’s weapons - was rustling the leaves in a … manner that he supposed was … calming? A couple birds flitted about, unalarmed. The house was a familiar sight, at least - doors broken in with bullet holes visible.\n\nThey were at least a week old, though. He felt a remnant of violence - not war, but violence. He flickered across the property to see a pile of fresh dirt. The hole was hardly long enough to fit a body without bending the legs, but the shovel nearby suggested it had been done by hand.\n\nHe sighed. There was hardly enough warfare here to tell him anything. It must have been done by soldiers in a war in some way, or else he would not have any sense of it at all. There were no combatants hiding in the building, for he would sense them as if the walls were of air.\n\nVery well. He would have to find the warfare that must be about to happen. He could feel it impending, surely within the next minute. It was coming from …. the west.\n\nWith a thought he flickered to a pile of sandbags. It was well disguised by brush. Hardly enough to provide any cover, unless -\n\nThe occupant was small enough.\n\nShe was hardly more than twelve. Dirty blond hair was pulled back into a severe bun which upset the balance of the too-large helmet she wore. Out of annoyance he tweaked it to be in an optimal position to protect and not fall off. The little girl twitched her head a little, but didn’t react.\n\nHer focus was admirable. She was looking down the road. Her weapon was called an AK-74, 5.45x39mm. Too much for her to fire accurately, even if her grip was better. He nudged her mind to adjust her grip. There. Much better. He so disliked sloppy warfare.\n\nAh!\n\nThe warfare was arriving! The essence of the vehicle reached him before its sound. There were many with it. Six in the GAZ Tigr-M with fourteen walking along behind it.\n\nHe sneered at the quality. Four of the weapons carried by the men would fail to fire. Eleven of them were so badly fouled that they would be off by a centimeter for every ten meters they shot. The vehicle’s weapon was hardly better and its engine was so horribly fouled that it would fail within three days, the only question being what broke first. He guessed it would be the oil leak that was being ignored. It was a liter low and losing a liter per twenty four hours.\n\nWhatever. He’d seen worse. That country’s forces were much worse on aver -\n\nHe whipped his awareness to focus on the girl. She had finally heard the engine and was now focused on the oncoming forces! Why? Surely she wasn’t -\n\nHe flicked through her mind.\n\nHe would have grunted in surprise if he’d still been a mortal being.\n\nHer earliest childhood was a fuzz of pain and abuse. It wasn’t warfare, but the pain was similar enough to register to his senses. He made out an abusive father and a neglectful mother. Beatings. Hunger. Neglect. There was a vague sense of others in the family, but not any direct violence to give him a sense.\n\nThen there were two others. Adult male and female. The conflict there was brief and only coming from the girl. There was none from them. The girl’s quickly faded away and he could sense nothing of any conflict for seven years. In fact, to his senses, her last seven years were almost non-existent other than a fight with a boy two years ago for some childish reason he couldn’t sense.\n\nBut then!\n\nA day of violence, but not warfare. Burned into her mind strongly enough that he could see it as if it were a war. She was hiding. Her new - and now true - parents were being attacked. Tortured. Killed. By soldiers. “Orcs” was her mind’s description. A blue Z on their armbands was visible through the little crack in the ceiling she was watching through. The two adults were beaten and then had their digits chopped off before being gutted to die.\n\nHe’d certainly seen worse, but the girl? It was trauma beyond all concept.\n\nShe had dug the barely sufficient grave for them. And then … ah.\n\nHe watched as clear as day as she took her adoptive father’s old weapons. In a small pile she’d set them and sworn upon her soul that she would kill any invaders that came again. She carefully set up her little stop point, donned her dead father’s helmet, taken his weapon, and prepared to deliver war.\n\nHe pulled out of her mind to see her settling in. She was twelve. She would actually wound a couple of them, most likely. She was prepared to die. She planned to wait until the vehicle passed and then fire on the soldiers.\n\nAs excellent of a plan as could possibly be expected from a child. Far better than many adults. If she was lucky she might even kill one or two.\n\nShe would die, of course. Yet another pin prick in the retreating invaders, but nothing more.\n\nNo.\n\nFuck it.\n\nHe was a god of war.\n\nThis was a worthy avatar in spirit, if not ability.\n\nIf he could have, he would have smiled. He did snarl.\n\nHe could provide the ability to match the spirit. She had called out to inflict death on her enemies.\n\nHe would grant her prayer.\n\nHe slid into her mind." } ]