test.csv

Prompt,Story
"The timber wolves around French Creek had gotten out of hand. There were so many wolves, the farmers could not stop them from killing their cattle and sheep. ","The timber wolves around French Creek had gotten out of hand. There were so many wolves, the farmers could not stop them from killing their cattle and sheep. So the state put a bounty on them. It would pay a hunter ten dollars for every wolf pelt he turned in. A butcher in town named Bill Williams thought that was pretty good money. He stopped working as a butcher and started killing wolves. He was good at it. Every year he killed over five hundred of them. That came to more than five thousand dollars. It was quite a bit of money \in those days. After four or five years. Bill had killed so many wolves, there were hardly any left in that area. So he retired, and he vowed never to harm another wolf because wolves had made him rich. Then one day a farmer reported that a white wolf had killed two of his sheep. He had shot at it and hit it, but the bullets didn't have any effect. Soon that wolf was seen all over the countryside, killing and running. But nobody could stop it. One night it came into Bill's yard and killed his pet cow. Bill forgot about his decision never to harm another wolf. He went into town the next morning and bought a young lamb for bait. He took it out into the hills and tied it to a tree. Then he backed off about fifty yards and sat down under another tree. With his gun in his lap, he waited. When Bill didn't come back, his friends started looking for him. Finally they found the lamb. It was still tied to a tree. It was hungry, but it was alive. Then they found Bill. He was still sitting against the other tree, but he was dead. His throat had been torn open. But there was no sign of a struggle. His gun hadn't been fired. And there were no tracks in the soil around him. As for the white wolf, it was never seen again."
Two farmhands shared a room. One slept at the back of the room. The other slept near the door.,"Two farmhands shared a room. One slept at the back of the room. The other slept near the door. After a while, the one who slept near the door began to feel very tired early in the day. His friend asked what was wrong. “An awful thing happens every night/' he said. “A witch turns me into a horse and rides me all over the countryside."" “I'll sleep in your bed tonight,"" his friend said. “We'll see what happens to me."" About midnight an old woman who lived nearby came into the room. She mumbled some strange words over the farmhand, and he found he couldn't move. Then she slipped a bridle on him, and he turned into a horse. The next thing he knew, she was riding him across the fields at breakneck speed, beating him to make him go even faster. Soon they came to a house where a party was going on. There was a lot of music and dancing. They were having a big time inside. She hitched him to a fence and went in. While she was gone, the farmhand rubbed against the fence until the bridle came off, and he turned back into a human being. Then he went into the house and found the witch. He spoke those strange words over her, and with the bridle he turned her into a horse. Then he rode her to a blacksmith and had her fitted with horseshoes. After that, he rode her to the farm where she lived. ""I have a pretty good filly here,” he told her husband, “but I need a stronger horse. Would you like to trade?"" The old man looked her over, and he said he would do it. So they picked out another horse, and the farmhand rode away. Her husband led his new horse to the barn. He took off the bridle and went to hang it up. But when he came back, the new horse was gone. Instead, there stood his wife with horseshoes nailed to her hands and feet."
One time a preacher went to see if he could put a haunt to rest at a house in his settlement. The house had been haunted for about ten years.,"One time a preacher went to see if he could put a haunt to rest at a house in his settlement. The house had been haunted for about ten years. Several people had tried to stay there all night, but they always would get scared out by the haunt. So this preacher took his Bible and went to the house — went on in, built himself a good fire, and lit a lamp. Sat there reading the Bible. Then just before midnight he heard something start up in the cellar — walking back and forth, back and forth. Then it sounded like somebody was trying to scream and got choked off. Then there was a lot of thrashing around and struggling, and finally everything got quiet. The old preacher took up his Bible again, but before he could start reading, he heard footsteps coming up the cellar stairs. He sat watching the door to the cellar, and the footsteps kept coming closer and closer. He saw the doorknob turn, and when the door began to open, he jumped up and hollered, ""What do you want?"" The door shut back easy-like, and there wasn't a sound. The preacher was trembling a little, but he finally opened the Bible and read awhile. Then he got up and laid the book on the chair and went to mending the fire. Then the haunt started walking again and — step! — step! — step! — up the cellar stairs. The old preacher sat watching the door, saw the doorknob turn and the door open. It looked like a young woman. He backed up and said, ""Who are you? What do you want?"" The haunt sort of swayed like she didn't know what to do — then she just faded out. The old preacher waited, waited, and when he didn't hear any more noises, he went over and shut the door. He was sweating and trem- bling all over, but he was a brave man and he thought he'd be able to see it through. So he turned his chair to where he could watch, and he sat down and waited. It wasn't long before he heard the haunt start up again, slowly — step! — step! — step! — step! — closer, and closer — step! — step! — and it was right at the door. The preacher stood up and held his Bible out before him. Then the knob slowly turned, and the door opened wide. This time the preacher spoke quiet-like. He said, ""In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost — who are you and what do you want?"" The haunt came right across the room, straight to him, and took hold of his coat. It was a young woman about twenty years old. Her hair was torn and tangled, and the flesh was dropping off her face so he could see the bones and part of her teeth. She had no eyeballs, but there was a sort of blue light way back in her eye sockets. And she had no nose to her face. Then she started talking. It sounded like her voice was coming and going with the wind blowing it. She told how her lover had killed her for her money and buried her in the cellar. She said if the preacher would dig up her bones and bury her properly, she could rest. Then she told him to take the end joint of the little finger from her left hand, and to lay it in the collection plate at the next church meeting — and he'd find out who had murdered her. And she said, ""If you come back here once more after that — you'll hear my voice at midnight, and I'll tell you where my money is hid, and you can give it to the church."" The haunt sobbed like she was tired, and she sunk down toward the floor and was gone. The preacher found her bones and buried them in the graveyard. The next Sunday the preacher put the finger bone in the collection plate, and when a certain man happened to touch it, it stuck to his hand. The man jumped up and rubbed and scraped and tore at that bone, trying to get it off. Then he went to screaming, like he was going crazy. Well, he confessed to the murder, and they took him on to jail. After the man was hung, the preacher went back to that house one midnight, and the haunt's voice told him to dig under the hearthrock. He did, and he found a big sack of money. And where that haunt had held on to his coat, the print of those bony fingers was burned right into the cloth. It never did come out."
"“Maybe it's your mother,"" said Doreen. She picked up the phone. Before she could say a word, a man laughed hysterically and hung up. ","“Maybe it's your mother,"" said Doreen. She picked up the phone. Before she could say a word, a man laughed hysterically and hung up. “Who was it?"" asked Richard. “Some nut,"" said Doreen. “What did I miss?"" At nine-thirty the telephone rang again. Doreen answered it. It was the man who had called before. “I'll be there soon,"" he said, and he laughed and hung up. “Who was it?"" the children asked. “Some crazy person,"" she said. About ten o'clock the telephone rang again. Jenny got to it first. “Hello,"" she said. It was the same man. “One more hour,"" he said, and he laughed and hung up. “He said, 'One more hour.' What did he mean?"" asked Jenny. “Don't worry,"" said Doreen. “It's somebody fooling around."" “I'm scared,"" said Jenny. About ten-thirty the telephone rang once more. When Doreen picked it up, the man said, “Pretty soon now,"" and he laughed. "" Why are you doing this?"" Doreen screamed, and he hung up. “Was it that guy again?"" asked Brian. “Yes,"" said Doreen. ""I'm going to call the operator and complain."" The operator told her to call back if it happened again. and she would try to trace the call. At eleven o'clock the telephone rang again. Doreen answered it. ""Very soon now/' the man said, and he laughed and hung up. Doreen called the operator. Almost at once she called back. ""That person is calling from a telephone upstairs,"" she said. ""You'd better leave. I'll get the police."" Just then a door upstairs opened. A man they had never seen before started down the stairs toward them. As they ran from the house, he was smiling in a very strange way. A few minutes later, the police found him there and arrested him.A widow lived alone on the top floor of an apartment house. One morning her telephone rang. “Hello/' she said. “This is the viper,"" a man said. “I'm coming up."" “Somebody is fooling around,"" she thought, and hung up. A half-hour later the telephone rang again. It was the same man. “It's the viper,"" he said. ""I'll be up soon."" The widow didn't know what to think, but she was getting frightened. Once more the telephone rang. Again it was the viper. ""I'm coming up now,"" he said. She quickly called the police. They said they would be right over. When the doorbell rang, she sighed with relief. ""They are here!"" she thought. But when she opened the door, there stood a little old man with a bucket and a cloth. ""I am the viper,"" he said. ""I vish to vash and vipe the vindows."" "
"Pioneers used to entertain themselves by telling scary stories. At night they might gather in somebody's cabin, or around a fire, and see who could scare the others the most. ","Pioneers used to entertain themselves by telling scary stories. At night they might gather in somebody's cabin, or around a fire, and see who could scare the others the most. Some girls and boys in my town do the same thing today. They get together at somebody's house, and they turn out the lights and eat popcorn, and scare one another half to death. Telling scary stories is something people have done for thousands of years, for most of us like being scared in that way. Since there isn't any danger, we think it is fun. There are a great many scary stories to tell. There are ghost stories. There are tales of witches, devils, bogey- men, zombies, and vampires. There are tales of monstrous creatures and of other dangers. There even are stories that make us laugh   at all this scariness. Some of these tales are very old, and they are told around the world. And most have the same origins. They are based on things that people saw or heard or experienced — or thought they did. Many years ago a young prince became famous for a scary story he started to tell, but did not finish. His name was Mamillius, and he probably was nine or ten years old. William Shakespeare told about him in The Winter's Tale. It was on a dark winter's day that his mother, the queen, asked him for a story. ""A sad tale's best for winter,"" he said. ""I have one of sprites and goblins."" ""Do your best to frighten me with your sprites,"" she said. ""You're powerful at it."" 'I shall tell it softly,"" he said. ""Yond crickets shall not hear it."" And he began, ""There was a man dwelt by a church- yard."" But that was as far as he got. For at that moment the king came in and arrested the queen and took her away. And soon after that, Mamillius died. No one knows how he would have finished his story. If you started as he did, what would you tell? Most scary stories are, of course, meant to be told. They are more scary that way. But how you tell them is important. As Mamillius knew, the best way is to speak softly, so that your listeners lean forward to catch your words, and to speak slowly, so that your voice sounds scary. And the best time to tell these stories is at night. In the dark and the gloom, it is easy for someone listening to imagine all sorts of strange and scary things."
Don't you ever laugh as the hearse goes by. For you may be the next to die. ,"Don't you ever laugh as the hearse goes by. For you may be the next to die. They wrap you up in a big white sheet From your head down to your feet. They put you in a big black box And cover you up with dirt and rocks. All goes well for about a week. Then your coffin begins to leak. The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out, The worms play pinochle on your snout. They eat your eyes, they eat your nose. They eat the jelly between your toes. A big green worm with rolling eyes Crawls in your stomach and out your eyes. Your stomach turns a slimy green. And pus pours out like whipping cream. You spread it on a slice of bread. And that's what you eat when you are dead."