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BintangFortuna

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Bintang Fortuna 3

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Humanity is on the losing side of war. Battle training is part of school curriculum, and the world wide military enlistment age has been lowered to 14. Tomorrow is your 14th birthday." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Mother smiled at me as I sat down next to her for breakfast. She tried to hide the tension, but we both knew what was coming tomorrow. This would be our last breakfast together for a long while. Probably forever.\n\n“Lyda gave us some bacon, your favorite,” she offered, too brightly. I smiled, trying to hide my fear for her. It wasn’t her fault any more than it was mine. We chewed in silence. Real meat was a rarity, unless you were a Soldier. So I guess after tomorrow, I could have all the breakfast bacon I wanted.\n\nA letter slid under the doorway to our lodging. The brown, thin paper held my assignment. My future, my fate I suppose, if you believe in that sort of thing. We looked at each other, neither moving toward it at first.\n\nMother reached over and grasped my hand briefly, and then stood to retrieve the document.\n\n“Wait,” I cried. “Let’s… let’s just finish breakfast first. Please,” I pleaded. My tears got the best of me. Mother put her hand on the back of my head, stroking my ponytail, and nodded. She sat back down in her seat.\n\nI couldn’t eat anything else, so I just sipped my coffee. It had a tinny flavor, like everything else in this place. Dad used to tell Mother that the food in the Starfighters was much better. It tasted like earth. Not like the mines, where all of us non-soldier personnel were housed.\n\nI hate everything here, but I don’t want to be there either. I can’t fight. That’s not to say I’m not capable- I hold my own with mech and piloting. But I freeze up under pressure. Not really a great skill of a soldier. I’m last in the class on everything else except sword-fighting. A lot of good that does in space. They only teach it so that we can understand the trials of our ancestors. It’s a dead method.\n\nAfter 10 minutes of more silence, more chewing and sipping, Mother spoke. “It’s time, Marin.” She rose again, grabbing her crutch as she hobbled to the door. She reached for the letter, and a sob escaped me.\n\n“You’re almost 14. Time to learn to control your emotions. They won’t do you any good up there,” Mother chided. Her heart wasn’t in it though. I guess she knew the futility of telling a 14 year old girl not to be emotional.\n\n13 years and 364 days, actually.\n\nThe letter rattled in my mother’s hand. She placed it on the steel tabletop in front of me. I shut my eyes for a moment, trying to memorize how I felt right then, before I was declared. Assigned. Fated.\n\nThat stupid word again.\n\nI opened my eyes, and forced myself to scan the page.\n\n“This can’t be right.”\n\nI was assigned to the Jumping squadron. One of the more elite groups, it focuses on exploration of time. They try to find a way back, to stop the War before it starts. Most think it's the only hope we have to actually win. The best scientific minds of each class usually get assigned there. And I am not one of those.\n\nMother read over my shoulder, and breathed a sigh of relief as she hugged me. “But it’s not the front, Marin. You’ll be learning, studying, not fighting. Thank the gods.”\n\nI blinked.\n\n“This can’t be right.”\n\nMother laughed. “And why not? Your father was a Jumper. Maybe they see something in you. Something you may not see in yourself.” She took my head in her hands, and looked into my eyes. “You can, and you will.”\n\nI let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. “I can, and I will,” I whispered." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: \"Hatred hollows you out. Then it fills you up.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Iroh blinked, frozen, shocked by the unexpectedness of the embrace - but as soon as she had initiated it, she broke away.\n\n\"Are you certain you do not require any assistance in reforming the homeland?\" She asked, as curt and abrasive as usual. Iroh could see through her tough exterior, though, and knew she asked out of care and concern for himself, although any other person would have never guessed she had an ounce of compassion in her - showing it was not an ability she had been born with, unfortunately.\n\n\"Thank you, Azula, but you are a leader and a soldier. You are most needed out there, capturing the rebels and finding Zhao. Strong, passionate people like yourself must be there to inspire others in restoring balance to the world. Leave the politics and governing duties to the old people, like myself,\" he joked.\n\n\"As you wish, Uncle.\" She stuck out a hand, which Iroh attempted to shake warmly, despite her stiffness. \"I am proud to be your niece,\" she stated, referring to the changes Iroh was bringing to the Fire Nation and the hope he was restoring to the world. It was slow going, but Iroh could see that she was becoming more personable every time they met. \"Expect a letter soon.\"\n\n\"I look forward to it,\" Iroh said, \"your letters are a welcome distraction from the debating of the advisors.\"\n\nShe almost smiled, but caught herself. It was something she was still learning to be comfortable with.\n\n\"And hey,\" Iroh said, stopping her from turning to leave, \"speaking of nieces, I wouldn't mind seeing some grandnieces or nephews someday.\"\n\nAzula gave a hesitant nod, acknowledging the underlying sincerity below his joking tone. \"We shall see,\" she said. \"Ty-Lee has been attempting to instruct me in such matters - under your suggestion, no doubt.\"\n\n\"I may have mentioned it,\" said, Iroh, smiling.\n\nUncertain what else to say, she wished him luck and gave a quick farewell before turning to leave. Her two guardsmen followed a moment later, still frozen in shock at their witness to their leader's humanity.\n\nThe door closed, leaving Iroh alone with his thoughts. He quickly attempted to busy himself by collecting the tea cups and saucers, but the reality of the day set in nonetheless.\n\nIt was the anniversary of the tragedy that had left him and Azula as the only known remaining members of their family. Azula's visit helped to lessen the grief, but the sadness and remorse Iroh felt was beyond any comforting presence.\n\nYears had spent hunting the Avatar, and as each season rose and fell, the hopelessness and rage built in Zuko. Iroh had done his best to console him, but after his brutal banishment and the growing feeling of futility of his journey, Zuko had closed himself off from people. Their crew became increasingly incompetent with every rotation, and their ship began to break down as the repairmen grew less and less willing to commit the resources to doing a thorough job.\n\nAfter a while, they just sailed the cold, empty seas, with neither direction nor purpose. Contempt grew in Zuko, contempt for his father, for his home. The hatred hollowed him out, then filled him up, until Zuko finally commanded their crew to sail back to the capital. There, Zuko broke from the ship and made his way into Ozai's palace. His hatred fueled his fire into an uncontrollable inferno that claimed not only his father's life, those of the military heads and the royal servents, but his own as well.\n\nIroh would never again be able to muster up as much love for another person, as much as he tried for Azula's sake and for the people of the Fire Nation. He had had so much hope in Zuko. He'd loved him like he had his own son, and this second loss had broken something in his heart that he had held onto so very closely.\n\nIroh placed the dishes into the sink and used it to support himself as he sobbed and shook, alone in the silent room. Tears ran down his cheeks in little trails, collecting on his nose, where they fell in droplets and mixed in with the tea leaves." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Scientists prove mathematically where the exact center of the universe is. Turns out, it’s a snowglobe in your basement that your grandmother gave to you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Agent Brown took out a pair of sunglasses and pointed them towards me.\n\nI stared at them as if they were radioactive. \"What are those for?\" I asked.\n\n\"You're going to need them, especially with all the trouble that's coming.\" He took my hand and shoved the glasses onto them.\n\nI frowned. \"Trouble? What trouble?\"\n\nIgnoring me, he took out his cell phone and read through his text messages. I was ready to grab him by the collar, when a shout from upstairs caught our attention.\n\n\"Sir!\" A woman stepped down onto my basement stairs. She wore the same sort of generic man-in-black suit and sunglasses that Agent Brown wore. \"We need you immediately.\"\n\nHe sighed and stuffed the phone into his suit pocket. \"They're here already, huh?\" He thought a moment and then nodded to the woman. \"Agent Green, gather the squad. And make sure you have our negotiator.\"\n\nAgent Green stood straight. \"Yes, sir!\" she said, her voice sharp. She ran up the stairs into the house. Agent Brown started to follow her.\n\n\"Wait a minute,\" I said. I grabbed at his arm, but he deftly avoided me. \"What's going on?\"\n\nThe eyes behind the sunglasses peered into my own. \"Your snowglobe brought an alien fleet to Earth. Now, if you want to survive, you need to calm down.\" He snapped his fingers. \"And put those glasses on.\" He turned and walked up the stairs.\n\nI complied, not knowing what else to do. After my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I found that Agent Brown had disappeared from sight. A large commotion echoed down into the basement. I approached the stairs to find out what was going on. Before I left, I glanced at the snowglobe that my grandmother had given me all those years before.\n\nThere was nothing special about it. In the middle stood a cottage straight out of a Thomas Kinkade painting. Loads of glitter, which didn't even look like snow, covered the bottom. A lone candy cane lamppost filled out the sad display. It was something you could buy for a ten bucks at a tourist trap. Not something that would summon hordes of government agents or an alien fleet.\n\nI shook my head and went upstairs. There, a group of men and women in black clad suits conversed with intense looks on their faces. I was about to ask them what was going on when a horrible screeching noise came from outside. We covered our ears as it went on for a torturous couple of seconds. I exhaled in relief when it stopped.\n\nWe ran outside. I saw Agent Brown staring at the sky, which was dotted with an uncountable number of enormous black pyramids.\n\nBefore I could say anything, an intense purple beam of light erupted from one of the pyramids and slammed into a mountain near town. A noise resembling an air turbine in a wind tunnel blasted through my ears. I fell to the ground as the earth jolted in shock. The earthquake seemed to last for minutes. My neighbors screamed and ran around in panic. A sharp scent of ozone entered my nostrils. Mercifully, the earthquake ended. When I got up, a towering vortex of fire and dust had taken the place of the former mountain.\n\nAgent Brown rubbed his chin. \"Those Bolarians don't waste any time. They're already waving their dicks around.\" He looked in my direction. \"Good thing you put on those glasses.\"\n\n\"What's going on?!\" I almost shouted.\n\n\"That was a warning shot,\" he replied. \"They want what's in your snowglobe.\"\n\n\"Why the crap would aliens that can blow up mountains want one of Grandma's crappy snowglobes?\"\n\n\"Because—\" he paused. \"Because your snowglobe is the center of the universe. And he who controls the center, controls the universe.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: When a child turns 10 years old, they are given cards that represents events that could happen in their lives. One day, you lose your last card, which would be how you would die." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The Prediction Cards are truly a miracle. Some say that they came from God. Some say that they are the result of a time traveler losing an item or forgetting it. All we know is that one day someone found a 12 Yobibyte flash drive plugged into their computer. When they opened the flash drive, they found files on everybody for the next several thousand years. Instead of destroying the device, the man sold it to the US government for 50 million dollars and a permanent home.\n\nA few things were found out. It communicates with some time in the future, meaning it was probably used for time travelers to make sure that they didn't make a time-altering mistake. It changes due to the different choices people make when they find out information. One day it said that the President died due to an assassination, which was quickly stopped.\n\nThere was also information about tech in the future. For about ten years after the flash drive (dubbed \"The Attesor Stone\") was found, tech hit a huge boom. \"Replicators\" were made. Almost everything was automated. Many diseases were cured, some before they even came about. Peace was made between nations that seemed like they would never become peaceful. The world became a better place.\n\nOnce a breakthrough in tech was made that allowed for tablets made of thin, malleable plastic to be made for about a dollar, a system was instituted in which once you became ten you were given cards that would tell you about your future. When you turned ten, you were given a set of ten cards. Five of them would tell you about various events that were upcoming. There were three main ones: Your kids, your SO (if you had one), and your death. The remaining two were delegated to your job and what degree you get.\n\nI was forty years old, married with a beautiful wife. I had two children, one of them had already made it out of the house, the other was 15. I always left my cards in my car, because I liked reading what had changed, if anything. I always liked checking when I was going to die. Since I was 25, that number has only gotten higher.\n\nHow shocked was I to find out that it was missing. Who would steal it? What purpose does it serve? Oh well, I thought. I'll file a complaint on my way to work. I worked a big firm in the city. It just so happened to be across the street from the Police Department. I drove to work, and parked my car. I decided to just walk across the street. As I was walking, I saw a lumber truck barrel towards me.\n\nI woke up in the hospital. Apparently, the person driving had been driving all night and just at that moment fell asleep at the wheel. Of course I had to be in the way when that was happening. The doctor came in. She informed me that there were severe complications and I was probably not going to make it.\n\nThat night I heard noises outside my door. Security had been automated for years, and sometimes people found exploits. I attempted to dial 911, but the phone wasn't even on. Suddenly, my door opened, and a young, shadowing figure came in.\n\n\"Hello.\", he said. He looked very disheveled.\n\n\"Why are you here?\", I asked. I was worried at this point. Obviously he had something to do with the phone not working.\n\nHe put his death card next to me. I picked it up, and it said that he's murdered four weeks from now... by me. He then put my card down, and it had today's date.\n\nIt was then that I realized that he had a gun." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: The most powerful magic item in the world was not a divine weapon or a great crystal charged with arcane energy or anything else as grand. It was a simple common pebble." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My father was a researcher. A good one, at that. Some people called him a \"pagan,\" or a \"mystic,\" but he taught me some pretty useful things. At least, he taught me more than any priest or cleric had. When he passed, I expected to inherit nothing. We moved around a lot, so our home was nothing more than the sleeping rolls on our backs. He never even had a coin purse on him, we were so poor. Yet, the day he died, he extended his hand to me from his sweat-soaked pelt blanket, and dropped a small rock into my hand.\n\n\"Snap your fingers when you're in need, and this will help you.\" He said. He was always so cryptic with his explanations, but this time, he really threw me for a loop.\n\n\"What do you mean, dad?\" I asked, picking it up with two fingers. It was small, about the size of a rabbit's eye, and a flat matte grey.\n\n\"Snap your fingers... when...\" He began, but I stopped him with a hand on his chest. It took me a second, but I got it. While my dad hacked and coughed until he passed from this life, I was trying to get him as much water as possible, hoping to save him. But inevitably, Death came for him.\n\nI was fourteen, then. Now I'm twenty years old. I'd never had need of that rock, until three days ago.\n\nYou see, my father's research included working with some exotic species of fungus, and since the old man was gone, it was my job to take after him. So I was walking through a particularly rough patch of woods outside of a village by a river. I stumbled across some of the mushrooms I needed, and while I went to grab them, I heard rustling behind me. I wheeled around as quick as I could, and saw a bear twice my size slowly lumbering towards me, growling and glaring at me with its grizzly, furry, fat face. I was scared senseless, and at the time, I forgot what dear old dad told me. But I remembered that he told me to make as much noise as possible and look as big as you can when you see a bear, because you just might scare it off. So, like some type of monkey, I threw my arms in the air and did everything I could to make noise, which just so happened to include snapping my fingers.\n\nAs soon as I did, I felt the pebble heat up in my pocket, nearly to a burning extent. Then, I saw some strange bubble of air explode from where I had the pebble, which threw me off my feet and sent me into a tree.\n\nWhen I got back up, the bear was still there, much to my dismay, but all the color had left its face. In fact, all the color left its whole body. I turned to look around, and realized the whole world was grey. It was also eerily still. So was the bear.\n\nThis tiny little rock stopped time.\n\nI was still a little shaken up, and a bit mad at the bear that was hounding me, so I walked up to the frozen figure and kicked it out of frustration. I know, pretty stupid. But when my foot touched it, the bear shattered like glass! Literally! Cracks shot across its body at an alarming rate, and the thing just... broke. Fell apart like a shattered mirror. When I snapped my fingers again, the bear was gone, reduced to a puddle of bloody mush, but time began to move freely.\n\nEver since then, I've kept the rock hidden. That's what my dad did. And until I need to use it again, I think I'm gonna stick to picking mushrooms." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You're trying to get fired from your job writing for a children's show. Submit the script that'll do it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Aaand… action.” I felt my heart skip a beat. God, I hated this dead-end job. Working on Miss Sparkle’s Magic Kingdom of Love and Happiness literally made me consider putting Miss Sparkle’s Gun of Death right to my head. I thought I could get into this, educating children and all, but no. I thought that I could get out of it, but no. Every script I submitted before this one was checked, critiqued, and then approved. So when I killed the “Magic Bunnies of Glittertown” with a super-laser that wiped out the whole population, they turned it into a lesson about death and the obliteration of races. When I created a graphic sex scene between Miss Sparkle and her suitor, Mister Dick, they toned it down to make it a lesson about love. They also changed his name to Prince Richard. Now Sparkles and Richard are together, and they raised a farm full of Magic Bunnies.\n\nThe producers, directors, and anyone else working on the project commended me for my daring plot lines and ability to teach kid new, real life, lessons. Sometimes, jumping off a bridge seems like a better idea than writing for this show another day. But this was finally it. My day had come. They needed a script pronto, something that would act as a filler for this week’s live episode. I don’t know why they let me submit something I had been working on, but I guess it was just my kind of day.\n\nThe scene starts as any Miss Sparkle’s would, with Miss Sparkle reading a child’s letter. This time, it was about a small boy who was getting bullied in class. Miss Sparkle gave a stern message including the phrase “snitches get stitches.” Then it moved onto the magic kingdom of learning and words. Miss Sparkle turned on her cute, sparkly television, which displayed the letter F in a glittery font.\n\n“F is for foreplay!” she exclaimed, as the screen switched to a g. “G is for G-spot, H for hickey, I for intermolecular bonding, J for jet fuel doesn’t melt steel beams…” and she continued, spitting out sexual words, conspiracies, and a random word here and there to break it up.\n\nThen I had her do a segment with the animals, on diseases. And then, she showed how to cook each of the animals, with a live demonstration.\n\nTo end the episode, I had her speak about the illuminati, and how many people were really a part of it.\n\nMy boss came to me the next day with “outstanding” news. The episode had gone swimmingly, as people were unable to teach their kids about real world things like sex. The reviews were sky high, and I didn’t believe my eyes.\n\nWhile I was awestruck by the reviews, something literally struck me in the back of the head. Before I passed out, I heard my boss say something…\n\n“He knew too much about our organization. He must be exterminated, and all those who watched the episode, brainwashed into thinking it’s all a joke. Illuminati brothers, dismissed.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You are the finest knight in the King’s Court. During a routine bandit attack a mace strikes your head. You wake up with tubes in your nose, a beeping device beside you, and a man in a white coat shining a light into your eyes." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "‘Where am I? What is this place?’\n\n‘Please calm yourself. We are trying to help you. No,’ the man in the white coat grabs the knight’s hand as he reaches for the tubes in his nose.\n\n‘Please leave those alone. They’re helping you breathe. You shouldn’t need them much longer.’\n\n‘What is happening? Where is the King?’\n\n‘Your king is dead,’ said another man approaching the bed.\n\n‘Rodney!’ exclaimed the first man.\n\n‘Well it’s true. They’re all dead.’\n\n‘Yes but, good lord man, some context please.’ The man in white turned back to the bed. ‘In your last battle you saw your king threatened and got between him and a felling blow. It was some sort of assassination attempt we believe. And some weapon of great power.’\n\nThe knight winced, remembering the blow and the impact. The last thing he remembered before waking up here. He reached to his head but couldn’t find the damage he expected.\n\n‘It was just some bandits,’ the knight said, ‘and it was just a mace. Nothing special about it. I wasn’t expecting trouble so I wasn’t fully armoured. Lucky shot, really. For the bandit anyway.’\n\n‘Really?’ Said the man in the white coat, eyes bright. His hands shot into a pocket of the coat and pulled out a notepad. ‘I really should write that d-‘\n\n‘Not now, Clyde,’ said the other man. ‘It’s all being recorded anyway. Finish catching him up.’\n\n‘Yes, well your deeds on that day, saving the king and so forth, as well as your past deeds of valour meant you were deemed worthy. You were placed in a special tomb. There your body was mystically restored and preserved.’\n\n‘We’re still working out what was doing that,’ said Rodney.\n\n‘Rodney’s not one for mysticism in general. But the point is this was all approximately a thousand years ago.’\n\n‘And the King?’\n\n‘He survived that battle thanks to you and, by all accounts-’\n\n‘Fairy stories, mostly,’ muttered Rodney.\n\n‘According to our most accurate historical records,’ Clyde continued through gritted teeth, ‘he continued his rule as a just leader. He is well remembered to this day, even if the tales have probably been a bit fictionalised over time.’\n\n‘Okay, but’ said the knight, ‘and don’t take this the wrong way, but the hell am I doing here?’\n\n‘Ah yes,’ said Clyde. ‘Well, I don’t know if you had something like this in your time but when you were laid to rest a legend arose. It was said that, as your court’s greatest knight, you would rest a time. But if your country ever truly needed you, you would awaken and stride forth and...so on. Only, well...’\n\nClyde rubbed the back of his neck.\n\n‘Things have gotten really bad lately, all over the place. And there’s a lot of people who remember the legend, even if it’s as a childhood story. And some people really still believed it. And a couple of those have a lot of money to fund bizarre sounding archeological digs so...’\n\n‘We got tired of waiting for you to awaken,’ Rodney said bluntly, ‘so we came and got you instead.’" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You discover the fountain of youth in the most unlikely of places." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "If you are traveling in the Rockies and hit a little town called Bridge Valley, you probably got dreadfully lost, and then spent at least three hours stubbornly insisting otherwise. When a stranger does end up there, locals will gladly give directions back to the highway, but are otherwise not terribly welcoming. You know how isolated communities can get insular after a while, and in that regard, at least, Bridge Valley is no exception.\n\nStill, you’re probably hungry or thirsty, maybe you need to refill your gas tank, maybe it’s late and you’re thinking of stopping for the night. You can, with some effort, find a gas station, you can find diners and restaurants and such, all local stuff owned and operated by residents of the town.\n\nYou’ll have trouble with a motel or lodgings, but if you seem like a respectful sort, one of the locals will put you up in her son’s room—he’s off to college in the City, make yourself at home, be sure to get up early in the morning, she’ll make breakfast. She’s one of the few that seems glad to have a visitor, but she’s also a little nervous, probably because she’s opening her home to a stranger.\n\nAt first glance, Bridge Valley seems to be a time capsule of a place, like it’s a few decades behind the rest of the world. Except that your hostess gave you the wi-fi password, and mixed in with fifty-year-old pickup trucks, you definitely saw some electric cars and hybrids parked on main street.\n\nIn the morning, well, you’re in no big hurry anymore. The slow pace of the town seems to have infected you. Your hostess serves up a big breakfast as promised, and you linger over it, asking her about the town, about her son’s studies, about interesting curios in her dining room cabinet.\n\nShe cheerfully answers your questions and keeps the conversation rolling along, but you eventually decide not to overstay your welcome and leave.\n\nBefore you go, you stop at one of the most quaint-looking businesses you’ve ever seen, an old-fashioned soda jerk. The gangly boy behind the counter could have stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting. But despite his awkward appearance, he’s graceful and serves you up a soda water with some syrup, which he claims came from his family’s cherry orchard.\n\nIt’s amazing, but you spill some of it down the front of your shirt.\n\nDarn.\n\nHe directs you to the bathroom. It’s a unisex, just a locking door, a porcelain commode, and a sink. After rinsing your shirt, you decide to do some business on the toilet.\n\nThere’s this phenomenon called “Poseidon’s Kiss,” and it happens to you; after dropping a Number Two, a few drops of water erupt from the toilet bowl and splash your bottom.\n\nEew.\n\nDistracted by disgust, you don’t notice that some of your chronic aches and pains are gone.\n\nYou don’t notice anything at all out of the ordinary as you leave Bridge Valley and head back to civilization.\n\nIt’s only after five years or so that you begin to wonder why you don’t seem to be aging much.\n\nTen years on, you begin to get concerned.\n\nTwenty and you’ve had to move and drop your old life and friends almost entirely. In the process, you begin to try and figure out what the heck is going on.\n\nMaybe you’ll eventually remember that unintentional detour to Bridge Valley.\n\nMaybe you’ll make your way back there someday." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: : The poor victim of Hansel and Gretel was an amateur. A true witch works with college students and alcohol." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When you walk into a frat party, the first thing you do is establish eye contact with at least one hot guy. Bat your eyelashes a bit, bite your lip maybe. Then disappear into the party. There’s nothing a frat bro loves more than a good chase. Squeeze between pulsing masses of sexy zombies, sexy priests, and sexy schoolgirls. Push yourself between every guy in a football jersey who was too lazy to come up with a real costume. Try not to focus on the fact that youth is wasted on these idiots.\n\nEventually, that popped collar of a human being with stomp his way over to you and, above the soul-rattling bass, ask you to dance. Smile and say “sure”. Say “SURE” again when he can’t hear you over the chaos. The sounds coming from the speakers aren’t music, but that shouldn’t stop you from gyrating against this ape. Just like that, he’s yours. Try not to focus on the fact that it used to take magic and breadcrumbs to lure someone like this. It used to take skill to turn these idiots into dough in your hands.\n\nTurn around seductively and ask him if he wants to go back to your place. You “have to show him something” or “tell him a secret”. It doesn’t matter what you say, all he can hear is the thumping of the bass. He’ll blink, eyes glazed over from the alcohol. His mouth sucking in the sticky air, all he can do is nod.\n\nIn the moment, you almost wish you had to trick this poor beast. That the sexy witch costume you’re wearing wasn’t just for show. Out on the street, predictably, he starts getting handsy. Let him touch you a bit, act coy when he leans in for a kiss. Keep him just interested enough to follow you to the sorority house. The breadcrumbs are your high heels clicking on the pavement and the way your ass looks in this costume. Turn the key in the lock and he’ll follow you inside.\n\nIt doesn’t matter if you kiss him first, if you actually want to have sex this time. Do whatever you want with the poor bastard. The key is to always, always mention the fact that the oven broke and that none of the sisters know what’s wrong with it. Like clockwork, this meatbag will insist on taking a look. His bulging muscles and vacant expression are useful for one thing and one thing only: to demonstrate his ability to save woman from the terror of home repairs.\n\nLead him into the kitchen and suddenly he’s on all fours, sticking his head into the greasy darkness of the oven. Laugh to yourself as you realize how unfairly easy this all is. One small shove and he’s all the way in. Slam the door and he’ll actually start laughing at your funny joke. It’s not until you turn on the heat that he starts to sober up. That glazed look in his eyes becomes real fear and for the first time in ages, you’re alive.\n\nSet out the mixing bowls, gather your ingredients. Start beating the eggs while he screams and claws at the door. Mix the flour with milk instead of water for a more creamy texture. It won’t take long until you’re ready to add the main ingredient.\n\nTomorrow at the sorority’s Halloween bake sale philanthropy event for cancer and happiness, your sisters will beg for your three-layer cake recipe. Eye of newt, you’ll tell them, laughing. When they take a bite, eyes rolling in ecstasy, try to seem gracious.\n\nThe most important thing, though, is not to cackle too loudly when they tell you it’s to die for." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Sharing a bottle of whiskey, two men have a conversation on the porch of a home overlooking the fertile Salinas valley in California." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Jim wipes his lips, whiskey glazing his beard. “Yeah.”\n\nHenry sees his friend take a sip and thinks it’s a damn good idea so he does so himself. “Hot.”\n\nThe ice clinks the side of the glass. The two men sit in silence. Heat like a mute button. Whiskey powers through, the whiskey and exhaustion from a long day, up and down the road in the pickup, tarmac blistering, bottoms of their feet feeling enlarged.\n\nDown below the lines of migrant workers snake in the fields. Great blocks, fences here, fences there, square, oblong, all with rows and rows of green with purple black dirt in between, well tread and firm but softened from a short and sporadic rain.\n\n“You remember that girl? Jessie?” Henry asks.\n\n“Yeah I remember Jessie.”\n\n“Saw her the other day. Two kids, husband, she’s gained some weight, but she’s still got that pretty face, you know?”\n\n“Of course. She was a looker. I chased her most of freshman year.”\n\n“What stopped you?”\n\n“There were easier girls.”\n\n“I suppose.”\n\nFrom the ravines in the valley a breeze rustles past and shakes the leaves on the trees at the front of the lot. Jim gulps from his whiskey and slaps his pant leg, displacing the dust and sending it with the breeze down the valley. Soon it dies, and the heat returns, plain and constant, like family, annoying as all hell but lost without it. Everything is tied to the rain and the heat, rain and heat, but now with the irrigation systems, rain isn’t as big of a deal as it once was, now it pumps from some lake or reservoir Jim and Henry haven’t seen and all they need is the heat. By god do they have it. Wakes Jim in the night, makes the sheets stick, Henry has air conditioning but he thinks the chemicals it uses are making him sick.\n\n“I noticed that,” Henry said.\n\n“What’s that?”\n\n“You always go for the easier things.”\n\n“A more bullheaded man might take offense to that, but I’m inclined to agree with you.”\n\n“Why do you do that?”\n\n“Because, fuck it, that’s why. I reach a certain point and think to myself, do I really give enough of a shit? And the answer is usually, invariably, no.”\n\n“Maybe that’s why you been divorced twice.”\n\n“Maybe, maybe. What about you? You ain’t a picture of achievement yourself.”\n\n“A lot of situations are out of my control. The accident, the farm, my brothers.”\n\n“I know, rotten things.”\n\nHenry finishes his glass and twists the cap and pours another. He tops Jim up. A bird dips from the sky, searching for bugs or worms in the pastel veins of baked amber. They watch it fly into the distance, thinking nothing of the valley floor below or the sweat it contains, the lifeblood of not only this area but for places so far they have different dialects, values, languages even. They’re sitting on the country’s heart.\n\n“You ever think about an easier life, then? For a man that takes Nicole Harbraught over Jessie, you sure got dirt on your face and cracks in your hands.”\n\n“Not really. I don’t think I’m cut out for something else.”\n\n“How you know if you ain’t tried?”\n\n“Cause when I get real mad, like other people do, I don’t dream of other places, I dream of the people pissing me off going somewhere else. Like if they weren’t here, it would be so much better. That’s why. Always supposed if I got mad and dreamt of Mexico or whatever then maybe I should think of giving it a shot, but I never have, even now, when I got nothing holding me back.”\n\nThere’s a silence. Just ice in the glass, now slivers, clicking against the cup rim. Couple drops of condensation fall on Henry’s lap but he pays them no mind.\n\n“What about you?” Jim asks.\n\n“Me? God no. My memory’s not good and I don’t want to forget this place.”\n\nA single prop plane flies level with their front porch gazes, sputtering between the valley walls, hills like the sides of a ploughed furrow. It drops beneath the ridges and the motor drones for several minutes, until it grows faint and Jim and Henry can’t distinguish between it or the low plodding murmur of life in Salinas." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: \"When a planet is destroyed, a single person from the dead maybe reborn as a God. Your Domain shall depend on aspects of how you lived your life, actions, hobbies, work or anything else.\" That's what you were told before being reborn, but you still really weren't expecting the Domain you got." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Dave hovered in the vast darkness. There was no real sense of anything now, after Earth had been destroyed in its entirety. You would perhaps expect there to be buildings and even other people floating around in space. You'd be wrong. All he saw was rocks and dust. In truth most humans and other living things had just gotten squished instantly into little giblets due to unfathomable earthquakes.\n\n'Well, this is it', thought Dave to himself. 'I'm dead and stuck in limbo as a ghost or some shit. No way I survived that meteor or whatever had broken up the Earth into little fragments.' As moments passed by, he gave up those things that made sense while he was alive but not so much now that he was in some indeterminate state. Like breathing. Why bother breathing if there was no air left? He removed his hands from his eyes and looked around - because why not? His eyeballs clearly didn't freeze or explode or whatever was supposed to happen to eyes in space. Dave didn't know.\n\n'What now?' Dave thought to himself. After just a few minutes floating around he was already bored. He dreaded an infinity of whatever this was. He dreaded being alone for all eternity. As he continued rotating, hovering in space, he tried to scan his surroundings for any sign of another living - well, reasonably living - person. He saw nothing that held his interest. For a moment he thought he saw a billboard from McDonald's off in the distance. Dave decided he'd rather not.\n\n\"When a planet is destroyed, a single person from the dead may be reborn as a God.\" The voice echoed mightily in Dave's ears and took him by surprise. Not only did he not see anyone, but he was also pretty sure that sound couldn't travel through empty space (he was wrong about that). \"Your Domain shall depend on aspects of how you lived your life, actions, hobbies, work, or - you get what I'm saying - anything else.\" \"H-hello?\" Dave tried in response.\n\nSuddenly Dave felt his mind expand. There was no better way to explain it. It was like where he was once a body floating in space, now he saw himself from the outside floating in space. He was no longer just a body. As his mind expanded he became that rock or that piece of dust or that (he signed internally) McDonald's sign. Not only that, his expanding mind continued to expand faster and faster - in no time at all it reached the end of the gathering of rocks formerly known as Earth.\n\nThen it continued onward, out into space. His mind caught up with the moon that had lost the orbit around the Earth. His mind expanded all the way to Mars and the other planets, even the sun. He felt himself becoming the sun, but even that was small compared to the enormity of becoming the solar system. Then, in a complete paradox, he felt his mind expand to such a degree that it expanded beyond his own expansion. So he simply did. And because he simply did, it was so. He was a being unto itself, encompassing all of existence.\n\nHis mind wandered back to that body of his back in the debris field of old Earth. How small and petty it now seemed, mere moments later. He poked his body with his mind and it went haphazardly drifting off into the distance. Of course that distance was no distance but now only a part of Dave. It was fairly confusing, but also made perfect sense. He decided he preferred it making sense, so it did.\n\nHe tried stretching his actions beyond the solar system but he ran into a kind of bubble around it. He poked Mars out of orbit with this thoughts, but when he tried poking other stars nothing happened. It didn't matter how much his mind expanded - beyond the confines of the solar system he could only observe. 'I guess this is my domain', he thought, and because he thought it, it was so. Out among the stars he felt other gods, orbiting other dead worlds. They did not hold his interest for long.\n\n'But that voice - whatever that thing was - had told him his Domain would be specific to him. Tailored to his life somehow. Dave wondered what that meant. Was he going to be handed the Domain on a silver platter, or was he expected to decide for himself? In the end, he searched his own consciousness to find the answer lay somewhere between those two extremes. Like a person doing yoga, or meditating, or some bullshit like that, but imagine a solar system doing it to itself. If you can't, that's fine. But Dave could, and so it was.\n\n'Mmmmmmmmmmmmm', he chanted to himself. 'Hot dogs.' Hot dogs? His Domain was hot dogs? Why hot dogs? Dave remembered old Earth. Hot dogs had always held a kind of strange symbolism to him. It was an indulgence, but not for the rich. A guilty pleasure of sorts. The kind of food that only a master could perfectly cook, and only a master could perfectly recognize. Its transitory nature confounded him in his youth - so delicious and yet so passing in its taste. And it was a kind of safe haven - few if any truly cared, so it was the kind of topic that he could freely discuss with others. Others liked talking about hot dogs with him. 'Hot dogs', he repeated to himself. And because he did, it was his Domain.\n\nStill, he felt that something was off. If this was his Domain - did that mean that others had different domains? Was there a domain of mustard, for example? Or a domain of fast food? Or a domain of hot dog salespersons? Before his mind had even created the first symbolic hot dog in his own Domain, his mind searched the cosmos. Outside his bubble - outside his Domain. And there he found that terrible truth which was the cause of his growing discontent.\n\nIn all the solar systems, in all the galaxies, in all the universes that his mind could instantly comprehend - there was only one place in which hot dogs existed. One Domain where hot dogs were welcome - his own. This was a most unsatisfactory state of things. It was not that he wanted everything to be hot dogs, but he felt strongly that others should at least know about them. Dave banged his metaphorical hands against the bubble holding back his Domain. Nothing.\n\nThen his mind saw something outside the bubble - one of those old satellites that humans had sent into space with no chance to return. Which means that things they had made could travel outside the bubble. There was a vastness of space between his Domain and the closest god. But he could make more humans here. And they could go out there and spread his word. Alright, technically two words. His mind returned to Earth and almost instantly pieced it together again. It was not a matter of moments but thoughts. Already he saw his plan laid out before the humans he would recreate. They would in time, after he had restored civilization, build mighty ships to brave the void between the domains - and because he imagined it, it was so.\n\nIn a corner of space completely uninteresting to anybody except those who lived in it, the mighty works of God in his Domain were set in motion.\n\nThe universal Hot Dog wars began." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Your pet is suing you." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A Ruff Ending\n\nWhat a year it was turning out to be for the Ryan household, I mused. The first half had gone about as expected for us. The kids made it to school on time most of the time, and brought home all the random bits and pieces of school life to be finished or forgotten. My wife continued her fruitless quest to balance their schedules against her work with the city transportation department, never conceding to my oft made point that an afternoon nanny might do wonders for her nerves. Scooter, the family labrador, did his best to steal food and beds as they became available.\n\nI (Derek Ryan) had spent most of the early part of the year getting my summer concert series organized. A cover band I formed with some friends with the primary intent of crushing a few beer cans and ripping on each other had somehow become just popular enough around town that we could pull a pretty decent size crowd. For one of the smaller venues on a weekend night, anyway. The heat was murder sometimes, but a few cold beers and a crowd of people singing along to all the familiar favorites was more than enough to drive the discomfort over a hazy horizon. We did have some actual talent, decent gear, and (more importantly to the bar owners) a dedicated following made up of work and personal friends, so it wasn't a completely amateur experience.\n\nMy house wasn't really the most spacious place to practice, and my wife was firm about the hours ending at a decent bedtime for the kids, but it was the most central location for all of us so we made do. Scooter loved our sessions, and after several vain attempts to keep him out of the room we finally cleared a space in the corner and lined it with a pile of blankets for him. Here he was happy to observe our triumphs and failings, joining in with howls whenever we were intensely into a track.\n\nOver time the drummer, Jack, noticed that Scooter wasn't just howling. I was often too wrapped up in the melody myself to pay much attention, and Jack took a lot of ribbing from the other guys as he grew more convinced that Scooter was actively trying to perform with us. \"Dude, crack another one!\" they'd say, rolling their eyes and laughing at the his dogged insistence.\n\nIt was a few months later that I had realized Jack was on to something. George was making another attempt at Van Halen's \"Eruption\", an epic guitar solo that he was likely never going to master, though he swore he would never give up trying. Scooter had been laying on his side, feet stretched out towards the small heater, thumping his tail occasionally. As George built towards the crescendo, Scooter sat up and stared at him, leaning forward as though absorbing every tone and key. With his head cocked, he rocked lightly from side to side before he all of a sudden picked up the tune, howling but not howling. It was an odd but beautiful sound, that captured the runs and crescendos perfectly.\n\nAs the last notes died away, we had stood transfixed. The chatter between us could have been the disbelieving clucks of two old maids. Had we just seen that? Had we really just heard that?\n\nJack crowed delightedly. \"I told you! He's been practicing with us! Quick, pick another one!\"\n\nAnd so we did. And then we played another. We played for almost 45 minutes, and Scooter never missed a beat. Hell, he'd left George in the his dust on many of the more complex melodies. We wrapped up the evening with American Pie, an epic song for an epic night. After giving Scooter belly rubs and a jerky stick, we left the practice room and wandered out to look at the stars and consider what we had just experienced.\n\nIt was Larry who had come up with the idea to make a ViewTube channel and feature Scooter \"singing\" with us. He thought it would be a great promotional shtick, and he wasn't wrong. Scooter was a viral sensation almost overnight, and we found ourselves happily pulled along for the ride. I didn't dare chance bringing Scooter to a live show. He was always overly excited with strangers and I cringed at the idea of having to haul him off of multiple fans. It never mattered, though, as within months we had merchandise to offer and even had some interest from a few of the late night shows, all without him ever leaving the practice room. It all seemed so easy, and before long we had more money coming in from ads and sponsors than we had ever dreamed of.\n\nJust last month, though, that all changed. The binder on my desk grows thicker with legal documents and requests for records every day. I should have known it was too good to last, but being served these kinds of papers was something I had never even begun to consider. But amongst all the howls, grumbles and barks had been the seeds of language. One that Scooter had developed in secret. With his newfound communication skills he then retained a lawyer, who was the source of the binder and my coming financial and legal headaches. A dog with creative and intellectual property rights? Who had ever heard of such a thing?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: She’s a proud Amazon Warrior. She’s tough doesn’t hold back on anybody, and knows what she wants. And right now she wants to ride you until you can barely think, although it’s hard to act tough and on top when she didn’t actually know how good sex felt." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Xendra’s luxurious black hair was plaited tight against her scalp and trailed halfway down her back. Her toned and tanned body was covered in her tribe’’s traditional leather armor. She wore a woven cotton top that clung tight to her chest and a short leather skirt that gave her plenty of room for movement. Her leather bracers adorning her arms and legs were covered in tribal markings. Her sharp cheekbones were streaked with white paint. Today she was going into a war she’ had never expected to face.\n\nEvery season, a top warrior was selected to journey across the grasslands to find the nomadic tribe of males and lure one away to father another member of the tribe. This season the tribe mothers had chosen her.\n\nXendra brushed a stray hair that had fallen from her plait behind her ear and took her first step into the grasslands. The tall blades came up to her waist and tickled at her elbows. The tribe mothers told her she should look for footpaths made by game and follow them into the depths of the grasses, where the plants would swallow her whole. It was within these depths that the nomadic tribe of males most often were found, as game was rich and water plenty.\n\nFor two months she traced game trails deeper into the grasses, using her bow and arrow to hunt rabbits, and refilling her water skin whenever a trail crossed a stream.\n\nAt nightfall on the third night after a new moon, Xendra saw through the thick grasses a faint orange glow. She had come across a former campsite during her first month, a fire pit in the middle of a tramped down circle of grass where the males must bed down for the night, and she knew this had to be an active camp.\n\nCarefully, she stalked towards the camp, her breath slow and controlled. She heard the noises of a camp, the rustle of clothing, crackling of a cook fire, and the murmur of a language quite similar to her own. As she neared the edge of the tall grasses, she crouched and watched the men, attempting to pick her quarry. The tribe mothers had instructed her to look for tall and broad man, someone who would strengthen their blood.\n\nXendra soon saw her target. He was squarely built, with well-defined muscles that gleamed in the firelight. She watched him for what felt like hours, waiting for him to stray far enough from the others for her to strike.\n\nSuddenly, a calloused hand pressed tightly over her mouth and she was pulled backwards by her long plait. Wincing in pain, Xendra tried to turn, but she was firmly immobilized. Roughly, she was yanked to her feet and dragged back, deeper into the grasses.\n\nAs her heart raced, Xendra wracked her head for something to do. Then, a thought struck her and she went limp. The being holding her stumbled, and she took advantage of the momentary loosening of their grasp. She dropped low, and swept her leg out behind her, hitting her would-be-captor’s legs and sending them tumbling.\n\nQuickly, she swiveled and pounced, pinning a male from the nomadic tribe. He stared up at her, eyes wide, and she clamped a hand over his mouth before he could cry out.\n\n“”Don’’t say a single word, man. I am Xendra, warrior of the Amazon Tribe, here to beget a child.”” Xendra whispered fiercely.\n\nThe man stared at her, hazel eyes searching her face, before slowly nodding his acknowledgement.\n\nXendra looked at the man. He was not as broad or as muscled as the man she originally had in mind, but he had been clever enough to initially surprise and nearly capture her. As such, she thought he would do just fine for her purposes.\n\nThe tribe mothers had instructed her in how to complete the task before, or rather beneath, her, but Xendra was still unsure of how exactly to proceed. She examined man. He wore no shirt, and wore only a simple pair of linen pants.\n\nStraddling his thighs, she released his mouth and moved her hands to the hide strings fastening his pants. She fumbled with the knot for a few seconds before she felt a tentative hand on her shoulder.\n\nXendra looked up sharply and the man recoiled slightly. Her cheeks darkening, she removed her hands and his quickly replaced hers, his thick fingers deftly undoing the knot with practiced ease. He reached into his pants and pulled out his hardening cock. She watched in mute wonder as her began stroking up and down the length, working himself.\n\nFor some reason, she leaned forward and cupped his face. She used her thumb to caress the thick stubble adorning his cheek. His eyes met hers, and she smiled softly. Her body was hot and flushed with unmet need. Slowly, she trailed her hand from his cheek, down his well-defined abs, and to his hand that was working his cock.\n\nHe released his cock and she took his hand and placed it on her hip. Then, tentatively, she positioned herself above his hard cock, and slowly lowered herself onto him. He glided into her, without any of the pain her tribe mothers had warned might accompany such an event. She gasped as he filled her. He arched his hips, and moved his hand down to her firm ass, thrusting himself deeper within her and she moaned. Instinctually, she met his rhythm. Together, they increased their pace, he glided in and out of her, and her breaths were coming in ragged gasps.\n\nShe was supposed to be in control, the one who was taking him, but she could hardly withstand the ecstasy that was having a cock buried within her. When he moved his hands to her lower back and pulled her to him, she could’t withstand him. Her tender breasts and sensitive nipples pressed against his firm chest. His fingers tangled in her plait. He bucked into her again and again. Her whole body quivered with pleasure as he pressed deeper into her over and over.\n\nShe tried to rise back up, but he held her firmly against him, his own breath coming in short, shallow breaths. He pulled her face to his and pressed his lips to hers. She moaned against him, and he pulled back only slightly, looking into her eyes. She smiled softly, her cheeks flushing warmly. He smiled back and then pressed his head back into the ground, his eyes squeezing tight as he groaned.\n\nHis hard cock throbbed deep inside her and she felt herself racing towards and electric edge. As she tripped over into the abyss, she let her full weight lay against him. They lay there, bodies entwined, breathing heavily, staring at one another. Xendra knew she had to return to her tribe, but perhaps she should stay just awhile longer, just to ensure she came back with child." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: After accepting a steaming cup of coffee from their large green skinned co-worker and dodging past two dwarves discussing last night's game, they sat at their station right when the crystal lit up. \"Magical Dispatch, what is your emergency?\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Kevin took the sweet brown liquid in it's nearly bottomless mug graciously from his coworker Gnearbash, a rather portly orc, and began his trek back to his station. Behind him ran his partner, an elf suffering from the elvish version of dwarfism, where one grew to a grand height measurable in inches, as opposed to feet. It was a rare genetic condition and K'laria was an office favorite, doted on for her elaborate clothing and sense of humor. In her hands she held a single coffee bean, which seemed large to her 6 inch 5 centimeter frame. Had she been normal elf size, she would tower over him.\n\nTwo actual dwarves were bellowing at each other in the hall over the Tournament of Royals.\n\n\"No, Yrickle, I am telling you, Pergia is going to be the greatest dragon rider this season. Did you see his defensive manuever in the third quarter?\"\n\n\"Yet he did not manage to get the ball properly returned to his team. I don't care how slick of a flip he performed, the ball went out of bounds Florbet.\"\n\nKevin rolled his eyes and bent down to offer a hand to K'laria, who jingled noisily into it. Why she had chosen to dress like the Mascot of the Shelf Elf Furniture Company today was beyond him. As a drop out of the prestigious School of Magical Healing, famous in the office for being a failed nurse, most things were beyond him. He was lucky to have been accepted as a EMMTD. It stood for Emergency Magical Medic Transportation Director, but the title of Director was a half hearted attempt on the board to make the Dispatchers sound less menacing. This was a response to several Grim Reapers opening up a Dispatch and Morgue locally. More than locally. Next door. With a huge ad depicting smiling reapers and the phrase:\n\n\"Ready to leave your mortal coil? Call the Dispatchers.\"\n\nIt was a very pointed poke at the hospitals life saving services. If only Dignity in Death was still illegal.\n\nK'laria beamed at him, munching on her coffee bean.\n\n\"Ready for the day Kv'in?\" She asked, nesting in his free hand.\n\n\"Oh, kind of. I just hope for an easy one.\" He replied. It was heartfelt. Kevin only cared about easy days. She beamed at him.\n\n\"Not me. I'm hoping to saddle Team Alpha with a bad one.\" This was also heartfelt. Team Alpha's leader had turned down her attempt to date him on the basis of her height. It was still a sore subject, especially since he was a leprechaun. Apparently he only liked big girls, five foot and above. Something about her not being \"thicc enough\" for him. Little prick.\n\n\"We can always hope someone's pet Kappa bit them again.\" He said smiling as they approached their desk. He set her and his mug down and they grabbed their headsets. Kevins job was to talk to the callers, while K'laria used her insane speed to GPS their location and send a team.\n\nThey had barely turned the system on when a call came in.\n\n\"Magical Dispatch, what is your emergency?\" He asked. The caller groaned.\n\n\"My wife has gone into labor.\"\n\n\"How wonderful sir, how long has she been having contractions.\"\n\n\"The children won't stop coming out. It's like the hoardes of hell have been unleashed. They are all covered in flames, my house is on fire, I am on fire, and she is screaming about a curse. I did not know she was cursed. What is happening right now?\"\n\n\"When you say \"they\" what do you mean?\"\n\n\"I mean there are hundreds of them.\"\n\n\"What species are you and your wife sir?\"\n\n\"I'm a werewolf and she's uh...she's a demon.\"\n\nK'laria started grinning, huffed in a giant breath and let loose a sonicboom.\n\n\"Team Apha, Hybrid, Multiple Birth in progress during House Fire. Will need a cursebreaker.\"\n\nIn the back a very small curse came out of a very small man. I stayed on the phone, trying not to laugh.\n\n\"Sir, I will need an exact count. Are the flames hurting you?\"\n\n\"She's trying to keep them from reaching my skin...Holy shit, they sprouted wings. I can't count this high. Oh, god, the neighbours! Run Thrimmet, my Gods, run! I HAVE TO SAVE HIM!\"\n\n\"I need you to stay on the phone with me, and with your wife.\"\n\nAn explosion was heard through the line.\n\n\"Sir?\"\n\n\"Sir?\"\n\nThe call ended." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: You are Michael Collins orbiting the Moon while Eagle is on the surface. You communicate with Houston and find out that Buzz and Neil are stranded on the Moon and you must now return to Earth alone." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I’ll never get tired of the view. That’s what they don’t teach you, hell what they can’t teach you on the ground. How to keep your mouth closed when looking out into the vastness of space.\n\n“Control, this is Columbia” I say into the crackling line. “Prepping the docking bays for Lunar’s ascent.” Knowing our window of success is narrowing, I relay the information to the rest of the team.\n\n“Lunar, we good to go?”\n\n“Roger Columbia,” comes Neil’s familiar voice. “Let us know when we have the green light for ignition.”\n\nI’m still waiting on a response from home. The silence of being up here alone is starting to play tricks on my mind; the sweat dripping down my forehead slowly creeps past my temple like rolling thunder to my eardrums. My hand tenses up on the intercom button, accidently breaking radio silence and reconnecting me to the Control Center in Houston. Shit.\n\n“Houston, please confirm ignition sequence, Lunar is prepped and ready to fire,” I say halfheartedly, knowing they get irritated when pressed for time.\n\nSilence.\n\nI look down at my communication switchboard to check the connections for any issues. Normally they respond promptly, or at least give me a heads up on the fuel status. Everything is in working order; all lines are hot and are operational. Why are they taking so long?\n\nAnother minute passes. My head is pounding by this point, the stress of making sure my guy, no... my friends are ok is rising, like a heat permeating through my perspired NASA approved cotton tee-shirt under a hundred layers of thermal protection.\n\nThey don’t teach you how to deal with the silence.\n\nI press the intercom button with as much force as my nervous body can muster. “Houston, our window is closing. Please confirm ignition sequence immediately to…”\n\n“Columbia, its Glynn,” I hear the other line finally crackle to life. “The gravity field near Tranquility is too high. They don’t have enough fuel to break.”\n\nThe heat instantly disappears, my entire body goes cold.\n\nAldrin’s voice cuts the silence like a hot knife.\n\n“Columbia, this is Lunar… come on Michael we’ve been here too long, what’s the hold up?”\n\nMy mind starts racing. Houston needs to have a backup plan. Maybe they can trigger the rockets on Lunar at a specific orbital point to slingshot them off the surface. The silence is so thick, all I can do is stare out into the blackness of the abyss. After what feels like a lifetime, I slam my hand on the receiver.\n\n“Run the fucking numbers again Houston,” I scream into the intercom. “We are not leaving my fucking friends on the god damn moon.” I can’t control the emotion in my voice, I crack halfway through and start to tear up. We’ve trained for this, we all knew it was a possibility, but everything was going according to plan. How am I going to tell my Commander that he can’t come home? How am I going to be able to go back without them and pretend like this was the greatest feat in human history, without our greatest heroes? What am I going to tell his children?\n\nExpecting a response immediately, I wait for the line to clear. “Houston, do you copy?” I say, barely able to whisper without breaking.\n\n“Mikey, its Neil,” quietly comes out of my headset. “You forgot to switch lines.”\n\nThey don’t teach you how to deal with the silence." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Someone has kidnapped the Princess. Unbeknownst to the Kidnapper, however, is that the Princess is hiding a monstrous (and possibly deadly) secret." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The campsite was hidden, as the path was uncommon for travelers. Baldric had planned through all the possible ways this could have went, and was prepared for any failures, but it had went perfectly. He didn't even have to kill any guards, it would be morning before anyone noticed she was missing.\n\nAcross the small campfire was the princess, her arms bound and her mouth gagged. Her eyes followed Baldric, but something was wrong. Baldric quietly thought to himself, \"All of those I've taken in the past, noble or commoner have had one thing in common. They were always afraid, fearful of what might await them.\" He quietly ate his food, the princess still focused on him, \"She is looking at me like a starved wolf, waiting for a moment to strike.\"\n\nThe nearby sound of the crystal caught his attention, it was his employee, the king from another kingdom. He picked it up, and could see the king on the other side, and said, \"The job has went well. The princess is with me, and we are on our way.\"\n\nThe king said, \"Great, we are awaiting your arrival. Once she is on our lands, I'll be able to use her as leverage, and soon their kingdom will be mine.\" Someone stepped out of the woods, from the shadows and said, \"The wagon is ready, we need to move.\" Baldric deactivated the crystal and placed it back in his bag. He grabbed his gear and said to his henchmen, \"Put her in the wagon, and I don't want to see her harmed in any way. It will only take us two days to get back, so we shouldn't run into any issues.\"\n\nThey quickly had the wagon loaded, the princess was in the back with two guards. Baldric sat in the front with the driver. They road along for a few minutes, but the road led to a small checkpoint, with a few guards waiting. Baldric thought to himself, \"Its not possible, they couldn't have found out she was missing yet. This is probably something else.\" Before they reached the checkpoint, he said to the driver, \"Let me do the talking. If it goes bad, ram through them.\"\n\nThey stopped at the makeshift checkpoint, the few guards were tired and worn, they had been waiting for some time. A single lantern barely illuminated the checkpoint, and the nearby tent. One of the checkpoint guards approached and said, \"Who are you and were are you heading?\"\n\nBaldric quickly lied and said, \"We are merchants, my employer needs these to arrive before sunrise.\"\n\nOne of the guards walked along the covered wagon, but it didn't matter. The henchmen in the back had crossbows, so if they opened the back, they would quickly be taken care of.\n\nThe first guard called out to the one near the back of the wagon, \"Don't bother, its just merchants.\" He paused, \"Actually do you have any wine? The boss ran out, and we could use a few bottles.\"\n\nBaldric smiled, and said, \"Of course, let me get a box real quick.\" He hopped out and walked to the back, climbing inside. The princess hadn't moved, and the two henchmen waited for Baldric's orders, \"Wait here, remain silent. I will handle this.\" He took some of the wine from their traveling supplies and climbed back out. He walked back over and said, \"We only have three bottles, I thought we had more.\"\n\nThe guard nodded and said, \"Well the boss is in the tent, he will compensate you for the wine.\" Baldric was dreading this, as if their boss knew of Baldric, the situation could quickly turn violent.\n\nBaldric opened the tent door and stepped inside. The knight at the table was looking over maps and papers, and looked up and said, \"Merchants?\"\n\nBaldric nodded and said, \"Your men requested wine?\" He set the bottles on the desk, and went to walk out. The knight called out, \"Wait a second.\" Baldric froze, his hand on his hip, near his blade. \"I need to give you some coin for this, I can't just take your product without any payment.\" He tossed Baldric a small bag of coins, and said, \"This should cover it.\" Baldric nodded and said, \"Thank you,\" quickly leaving without checking the coins. The longer they waited, the higher the chance of them getting caught. Something on the wind caught his attention, that he couldn't place. Outside the guards were gone, missing. The driver was also no longer in his seat. The moon wasn't too bright, so perhaps he was laying back against the seat, the cover blocking the light.\n\nBaldric slowly approached, and the driver was truly gone. He quickly rushed over to the back and tossed open the back of the covered wagon. The princess was gone, but the two henchmen remained, or so Baldric thought, he quickly said, \"Where did she go?!\" One of them fell forward toward him, the light revealing a dried out husk. Baldric ran around the other side and tripped over the remains of the driver, drained like the henchmen.\n\nThe clouds began to part, allowing more moonlight. The silhouette of the princess was standing in the road. But something was off, she was different, larger. Her arms stretched past her knees, long claws dragged the ground. She turned and noticed Baldric.\n\nThe knight waited in the tent, the other guards sharing the bottles of wine. The long bloodstained claws pulled open the tent door. The knight looked up from his papers and said, \"Did you leave the horse alive?\" The princess in the darkness nodded, her claws shrinking. The knight said to his men, \"Get those scum out of the wagon and dispose of them. I want that wagon ready quickly.\" The men quickly jumped up and walked out the back. The princess entered, her form changed back to her old self. Dried blood was still on her hands, and on the dress." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: An illusionist makes the world’s tallest skyscraper disappear. Before he can bring it back, he has a heart attack and dies on live TV. The network CEO hires a private detective to find the missing building and the thousands of people who were working inside." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Isn't it weird? One day you can be there, living your average day to day life; showering, working, loving your friends and family. Then, the next day, suddenly things come crashing down around you.\n\nThe Great Mysterio - Exclamation Mark! (Yes, he really did say the 'exclamation mark' at the end) He was a great man, loving, gentle, soft. But, he was dead now. His last ever public performance - and only performance- ending in tragedy. He had always wanted to go down in history as a man of mystery and wonder. I guess he really did.\n\nDuring that great performance, everything had gone off without a hitch; the stage was set, his assistants ready to give the ol' razzle dazzle and distraction! The CEO had requested this, personally, as a great publicity stunt for the business!\n\nThe building disappeared, The Great Mysterio - Exclamation Mark! had said the magic words, pulled a cloth over the audience's viewing point, and then voila! No more building or workers.\n\nHis assistants danced around the stage, giving a small performance while the scene was prepped for the reappearance of the building. Except, mid-way through the dance something bad happened.\n\nThe Great Mysterio - Exclamation Mark! keeled over, clutching his chest and gasping for breath. His face turned red and then blue. The assistants ran, screaming in worry and fear, towards their employer. He barely managed to say a final farewell before the ambulance arrived.\n\nHe passed from a heart attack that day; the doctors were unable to do anything to save him. I cried for days after he passed; my mother began to ignore me after that. I guess, because I was one of his assistants, she felt I should have been keeping a better eye on him; making sure he took his heart medication instead of having tea with him.\n\nI missed my grandpa, but, I felt it unfair she would blame me for this.\n\nThe CEO of the company gave a speech after it turned out that the building really had disappeared; along with the six hundred factory workers, four hundred sales reps and administrators, thirty receptionists, one hundred accountants, and four of the twelve people on his board of directors, his daughter included.\n\nThe news picked up the story; blamed my grandfather, made him seem like some kind of terrorist or mad man! I grew annoyed at the lack of privacy during our time of grief and had lashed out more than once at a cameraman trying to grab the latest scoop on the family.\n\nThe CEO, James Dixon, wasn't making things much easier for us. He insisted on making the incident a very well known story, constantly being a guest on talk shows; selling articles to global newspapers; he even hired a private detective to try and boost his own image.\n\nIt was like this entire situation, strange as it were, was a game to James. And he knew the way to win. He tried to sue my family for losses endured for his company, thankfully the judge ruled that this was not the fault of the family, or the individual.\n\nThe private detective, Donovan O'Callaghan had been prying a lot into our personal lives.\n\nThe first time I had met him was three weeks after my grandfather's funeral; a few days after he had died. He turned up to my house, banging the door and spamming my doorbell until I, groggily, opened up ready to yell at the poor soul on the end.\n\nHe looked me up and down; my mousy hair untidily strung up into a bun, wrapped in a fluorescent pink dressing gown which only seemed to highlight my red eyes. While he was assessing me, I assessed him. The clock on my wall said it was 6:30am, but this man looked to have woken up hours before; he wore blue jeans and black coat that hid his torso from the harsh morning winds that was blowing his salt and pepper hair.\n\n\"What the bloody hell do you want at this hour? If you want a bleeding story, go to that god damn James Dixon for it. My family refuse to speak to you parasitic press and paparazzi hoping to get the latest scoop on that damn building.\" My throat hurt from just waking up, but I was furious that someone would even knock the way he had just for a story.\n\n(I will probably get around to finishing this at a later time.)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: Demons are born from the sins committed unwillingly by the innocent. You work for a company contacted by hell to produce new units." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "After a bustling weekend full of the usual life of excess, Ryan trudges to his desk in the back corner of \"Sin is In\". His old wooden desk is piled in papers that defy all laws of gravity and balance treacherously in several piles that threaten to collapse with every wisp of air that dare waft past the desk.\n\n\"Hey, Bob\" he half mumbles as he slouches into the old leather chair, and immediately puts his head in his palms. What a hangover. He hasn't had a hangover like this since his half-sister's wedding back in May.\n\n\"Mornin' Ryan. Hard weekend?\"\n\nHard weekend couldn't begin to explain the past twenty four hours. Hell had put in a special request, and Ryan thought it best to do his due diligence. \"Ahyup, it was a doozie alright, Bob.\"\n\nRyan closed his eyes and began thinking of how he got to where he was now. Life used to be simple. Wake up, kiss the wife, sell some junkers to a couple suckers, cash a fat cheque, and spend the rest of the night with a tv dinner and the ol' boob tube.\n\nAnd then, hell froze over.\n\nWell, that was putting it lightly. What most people don't realize is that the fire and brimstone of hell is actually the body heat and organic output of billions of hellfire sucking demon children. Demons that can only be born when the most nefarious of sins are committed by the most innocent of people. After a couple events triggered by global warming, or what could only be thought of as divine intervention to keep hell in check, there had been a unified religious movement across all nations. In point of fact, things have never looked more wholesome for the human race. World peace wasn't just a dream, but was in fact a reality. The reality of this was that hell was now freezing over.\n\nOf course, what would the human race be without a few miscreants and savages? Sin will always be here. After all, sin is the three letter counterpart to FUN. In a perfect world, it's the little transgressions that lead to the demons. That person ripping off their neighbor, that little girl who stole a piece of bread to feed her mum. For a while, hell was only living on the scraps of petty sin. Yes, morsels of petty sin committed by the innocent. And that's when satan founded Sin is In.\n\nRyan had spent his life a scoundrel, and was excited about the opportunities the new company could afford him. The premise was simple, child's play really. It was a pyrimid scheme, built on the slippery slopes of hedonism and reptilian desire. Ryan cheated on his wife (adultery! lust! defiling the sanctity of marriage!), stole everything of value from her (theft! greed!) and ran to Sin is In with open arms. Unfortunately, Ryan was not an innocent. Neither was Bob, or any other individual working for SII.\n\nThis is, however, where the beauty of SII really came into effect. Go out on a weekend and lure others into committing small transgressions, such as drinking or eating in excess (gluttony!), or begin whispering in others' ears to start fights (wrath!). Maybe tell a man that the guy across the room had his hand up his wife's skirt earlier, that man would defend her honor and create a few demons in the process.\n\nWith every recruit, SII could create a spreading effect certain to bring a few hell spawn into this brave new world.\n\nRyan pushed a stack of papers to the side, and watched lazily as it teetered and fell over. He looked at his calendar, full of weddings, parties, trivia nights at bars, and local festivals. \"Tomorrow is going to be good, Bob.\" He picked up his red pen, and circled a wine and cheese festival." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: A character consumed with hate, another with love. Make them switch by the end of your story." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A demon walked into the inn, and a god followed him. They contrasted like day and night, a being of distorted limbs and burning red eyes, besides man perfected, cast from bronze, eyes burning like the midday sun. The loud conversations halted into sullen silence, whispers drifting through the building like the sighing of the wind.\n\n“Why are we here?” The god asked, brow furrowed, a Michelangelo sculpture perfected. The ladies in the room sighed internally, looking at their husbands with no small amount of disappointment. Some of the men also looked away, having similar thoughts about their wives.\n\nThe demon smirked. “All in good time.” It gestured towards the far side, where an immaculate table was prepared, surrounded by chairs of the finest redwood. “Please, take a seat.”\n\nThe god stared at the chair disdainfully, snapping his fingers with a thunder-like crack. The chair was now made of solid gold, studded with diamonds and other precious stones. The crowd gasped, some already getting out their chairs, already preparing for what was no doubt going to be the gossip of their lives.\n\nThe demon raised an eyebrow, moving a hand over the inn, and the patron’s eyes glazed over. A moment later, the entire inn was sitting down, completely ignoring the supernatural beings. The god leaned back into his chair.\n\n“Humans,” The demon smirked. “I only wish my comrades were this stupid.”\n\n“Congratulations,” The god said drily. “It looks like you actually have some talent, after all.”\n\n“Is that any way to speak to an old friend, Adromados?” The demon said with a toothy grin, revealing rows of shark-like teeth.\n\nAdromados twitched, eyes filled with anger. “We were never friends. That implies that anyone would actually want to spend time in your company.”\n\nThe demon stared at him for a long moment. Then, it shook its head. “It doesn’t matter now, I suppose.”\n\n“Enough of this! You told me that you had a message of incredible urgency.” The god slammed his enormous hand into the table, shearing it in half with one colossal blow. The patrons did not blink an eye, continuing to talk as though nothing had happened.\n\nThe demon spread his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I do. I do. Hold your horses. You still have those, don’t you? The impossibly fast ones you spent centuries breeding? Oh right, those are the ones I killed.”\n\nThe god glowered in response. The demon shut up. There was pregnant pause.\n\nAdromados sighed, placing his hand over his eyes. “I’m going to ask you one more time, Vasivion. Why did you call me here?”\n\n“Have you noticed anything special about this inn?” Vasivion asked, looking intently at Adromados. The god glanced around quickly. There were no magical auras to be found. This was a backwater, even by human standards.\n\n“No?” The god said.\n\nVasivion smiled. “Look how healthy they are. See how their clothes have had an incredible increase in quality, even though it has been less than a century?”\n\nNow that Adromados looked, it was clearer to him now. “And?”\n\n“And?” The demon repeated incredulously. “They are advancing at an incredible rate. Humans were never meant to do this! They were meant to worship and fear you, not uncover the secrets of the universe! I know that after the Dawn War, we all agreed to stay away from this world, but surely you can see the dangers! We must bring them to heel, before it is too late!”\n\nAdromados laughed, an ear-splitting bellow bursting out of his mouth and moving around the room like a hurricane. “The great Vasivion, defiant against even the gods, afraid of a bunch of hairless apes. How the mighty have fallen!” He scoffed. “I remember you seceding from the Council, the first in a thousand years, straight to their faces! Even I had to admire you for that, despite your weakness.”\n\n“It is not weakness to desire freedom.” Vasivion said quietly.\n\n“You desire freedom only because you know it can never be gained. Do you want another civil war?” Adromados asked. “The humans are no threat to us, a few thousands year won’t change that.”\n\nVasivion stared contemplatively at the god for a moment, then snapped his fingers. A man rose from a nearby table, standing to attention in between the two beings. He was plainly dressed, clearly the son of a minor merchant, nondescript with brown eyes and hair.\n\n“There is a reason I brought us to this inn. What is your name?” The demon snapped.\n\n“Jacob, my lord.” The man replied in a dull voice.\n\n“What is your occupation, Jacob?”\n\n“I am an alchemist, my lord.” he replied.\n\n“You see? They still believe in that!” Adromados laughed and slapped his thigh. “They are no more a threat to us than a chimpanzee!”\n\n“Jacob, can you tell me about your newest invention?” Vasivion said calmly.\n\nA bead of sweat appeared on the man’s temple. “My patron would have me drawn and quartered.”\n\n“Don’t worry, I’m sure they will never find out.” Vasivion replied, smiling thinly. A vein momentarily pulsed on Jacob’s forehead.\n\n“Of course,” Jacob’s internal conflict was over. “I discovered something interesting in my readings. It appears that even death can be cured, given the right conditions. The Romans wrote about it quite extensively, although much of their knowledge was destroyed in the fall.”\n\nAdromados stopped laughing abruptly. After all, he had personally done most of that destroying.\n\n“Have you discovered anything more substantial?” Vasivion pressed.\n\n“Yes,” Jacob replied. “It appears that there is a specific plant, long thought extinct, that can give its eater a variety of almost mystical powers. It can’t have all been destroyed. I know that I will find it someday. Then, we can all be free of the tyranny of death.”\n\nVasivion froze, staring at Jacob. Adromados’ hand slammed into his shoulder.\n\n“Forgive me for doubting you, old friend.” The god’s smile was as warm as an early spring, his earlier hatred forgotten like the ashes of the thousands of civilizations he had destroyed. ‘I will immediately inform the Council. With your permission, we can stop them from ever becoming a threat.”\n\n“How convenient.” The demon rasped, still staring at Jacob’s face. How could he have forgotten? Humans were not his true enemy. They only desired the same things he did. “Only now do you listen.”\n\n“What does that mean?” The god said.\n\n“It means that I'm having second thoughts.” The demon stood up. “I refuse to allow you access to these lands.”\n\n“Old friend, do not do this.”\n\n“Old friend?” Vasivion barked with laughter. “We were never friends. Only enemies. I just forgot that, in my fear.”\n\n“They will rise up, and they will kill the both of us.” It was Adromados’ face that was twisted in fear now.\n\n“So be it. I would rather them as enemies, than a snake like you.” Vasivion spat. Adromados’ face stiffened.\n\n“Remember my words as their cities burn. It is not the first time that a fool has defied me.” Adromados was standing up in an instant, eyes now the colour of coals. “Goodbye, Vasivion. Expect me.”\n\nThe room shuddered, as though a great force was compressed it into itself, and the god was gone. The golden chair was now pig iron. Vasivion sighed, staring at Jacob.\n\n“You better be worth it.” he said with a smile." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: You, a two-bit purse snatcher, skip town and decide to hide in the big city for a while. Nobody would give you a second look, you thought, they've got bigger fish to fry. As it turns out, the city's underworld is run by the actual underworld, and you've turned some heads by showing up." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The second time that a head rolled right off the shoulders of its host, Thomas decided that he was either losing his mind or his eyesight, or both. He would’ve decided on eyesight (both his parents were horrendously nearsighted) if not for the fact that a passerby on the street stopped, picked up the head, and returned it to the owner while admonishing him for being loose with his body parts. At that, Thomas nearly dropped the pink purse he was clutching in his hands. Perhaps this was God’s method of punishing him for all the bad deeds he accumulated in his life. Although Thomas was careful to steal only from the wealthy, he supposed that at some point the bountiful sin of envy overrode the sin of gluttony.\n\nSo wrapped up was Thomas in his shock that he barely registered the approaching passerby until they were nearly nose to nose. That is, if that person had a nose.\n\n“New?” The man said. He had a kind smile.\n\n“What?” Thomas managed to sputter out. Despite himself, he couldn’t keep his eyes from flicking to the cavity in the man’s face.\n\n“Seems like you’re not even a day in.” The man was looking up and to the left. Thomas traced his line of sight up, but didn’t see anything beyond the steam pipes pumping billows of hot air into the chilly sky. “I’m Danford, officer-in-training for fourth quadrant in Ivesgarth. Has anyone guided you through Reformation Orientation yet?”\n\n“I have no idea what you’re on about. I’m in London.”\n\n“Ah yes, London.” Danford looked sympathetic. “We’ve had large shipments from that city recently. Too many people driven to thievery from poverty. Was that your situation as well? Heard it’s war?”\n\nThomas narrowed his eyes. There was something fishy going on here. Everyone in the entire nation had either heard about, had family drafted in, or died for the war. His gaze flitted down to Danford’s waist, where some metal trinkets were clipped and the word “ENFORCEMENT” was embroidered. This had to be one of the police’s new ploys on behalf of the rich and toity who sat in their mansions and paid their way out of the draft.\n\n“Oh, it’s war all right.” Thomas sighed. Two could play at this game. “It’s hard for us poor. My wife, she’s so frail from undereating that I have to shop with what meager income we have on her behalf.”\n\n“That’s awful. She’s bedridden?” Danford’s eyebrows scrunched.\n\n“It’s terrible. She’s wasting away. And her stomach worms are acting up too. Probably complaining for the lack of food.”\n\n“My. What a world.” Danford shook his head, the little cavity where his nose would’ve been rattling back and forth. “I bet you’re starving. Let’s get you through Orientation and to mealtime, and hopefully your wife joins us soon. I’ll just need your purse.”\n\n“This is my wife’s.” Thomas said. “She handed me her purse so I could buy cabbage for us.”\n\n“No, that’s Lady Louisa’s.” Danford held out his hand. “You robbed her while she was looking at glazed pottery in the market this morning. Don’t worry, we don’t use overworld currency here. You’ll have food and bed.”\n\n“What are you talking about?” Thomas dropped the pretense and scoffed. It was so on brand for the police to make empty promises. “And don’t give me crap like we don’t use money. Of course you’re not wanting for money, you paid-off, corrupt scum.”\n\nDanford shrank back, seemingly stung by Thomas’ sharp turn of demeanor. He retracted his hand and unclipped one of the metal badges that was swinging next to his baton.\n\n“See here, I’m an officer-in-training, dedicated to doing good for the people. Belphegor – governor of greater Ivesgarth – commended me himself. I know it takes time to get used to, but you shan’t be wanting of anything in Hell if you shed your sins. You’ll learn all about Satan’s philosophy in Orientation: reformation, not incarceration.” He raised the badge until it was eye-level for Thomas, and even turned it around to both sides so he could show the star of commendation engraved on the back. When he was done, Danford clipped it back onto his belt and held out his hand again. “If you’ll hand me the purse, I’ll clear the sin from your log and send you to Orientation. I think Maggot’s having a session this afternoon at two.”\n\nThomas hissed and clutched at the fuzzy pink purse. “Absolutely not, you lunatic. You’re crazy, spouting this nonsense.”\n\nDanford frowned and stepped forward. “Then you’ll have to excuse me as I take it by force.”\n\nDanford grasped the purse firmly and tugged, but Thomas wasn’t about to let go so easily. There were two large corded handles attached to the top of the bag, which Thomas used to yank the purse towards him. The tug-of-war pulled Danford forward into arms reach of Thomas, and Thomas took the opportunity to nail a knee into Danford’s stomach. Lurching, Danford made a grasp for Thomas’s neck to pin him down.\n\nThe two parties sprung back as soon as Danford’s hand met Thomas’s neck. Danford’s hand was like ice and it chilled Thomas from where he was touched on his skin to deep into his larynx, choking him with its frigid embrace. Danford was clutching his hand with the other, eyes wide and glued to his fingers.\n\n“Heat… heat, hot skin. Heartbeat.” Danford croaked. He looked up and met Thomas’s eyes, his chest heaving. “Hot. Human. Human! Backup! Human alert!”\n\nUpon hearing Danford raise his voice, Thomas turned heel and ran. He looked over his shoulder to see Danford right on his tail, speaking urgently into a radio receiver. God dangit, he was a petty thief, not a murderer. If he knew he was going to be chased by the police, he wouldn’t have pickpocketed today. Thomas grit his teeth.\n\nThe pink purse swung violently around as Thomas ran for the edge of the street. Danford was falling further behind – perhaps due to being unable to intake enough oxygen – and Thomas almost breathed a sigh of relief until he rounded the corner and ran smack into a large figure. He looked up in time to see a towering, horned individual lean down, nailing him with glassy black pupils and covering his eyes with an enormous hand. Sleep hit Thomas and he let go of the purse, dropping it as he fell, slowly, to the ground.\n\nThe last thing Thomas heard was Danford’s huffs as he caught up to where he fell, and the words “orientation, human, kill, death” blur together." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 700-800 words. Prompt: 2 years ago, the leader of your nation very publicly saved the world from a zombie apocalypse. Which is annoying, because it's election season again and you're the leader of the main opposition party." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The debate moderator looked at the sitting President of the United States.\n\n“Mr. President, the first question. The United States has suffered tens of millions dead due to the zombie apocalypse. Could you have done anything to save more Americans? You have two minutes.”\n\nThe president took a breath, lifted his chin, and pumped his chest out.\n\n“No president has sacrificed more for their nation than me. Nobody. You’re welcome. Look, tens of millions dead. So we’ve all sacrificed, we’ve all suffered. But none as much as me. I was in Thule Air Force Base, beautiful place in Greenland, but cold, and I had to make the hard decisions. So I said, okay, where are there the most zombies, the most people? Where can we help the most? And the generals, smart people but they don’t see the whole picture. Anyways, the generals said okay New York City, Los Angeles, San Francisco, some others. Big cities. I have a lot of investments in those cities. My studios and production companies. Real estate. We make movies out there you know? So I ordered them nuked. The generals didn’t want to, said it was unnecessary. Can you believe that? But only Los Angeles got nuked, and I lost billions. Terrible. New York and San Francisco though, a lot of immigrants. As much as LA, and a lot of criminals. And zombies. And the people there, you know, they didn’t vote for me. Pretty un-American if you ask me. So maybe if I knew I’d only be able to nuke one city, I’d have started with New York or San Francisco. Plus-”\n\nThe debate moderator cut in. The president was about to ignore the debate moderator and continue his rant but miraculously held back.\n\n“Mr. President, your time is up.” The debate moderator said as she turned to the president’s opponent, a former Air Force pilot turned California senator.\n\n“Mr. Gould. Your question: do you think the president could have acted differently to save Americans during the apocalypse?”\n\nThe California senator blinked. At the time, Carson Gould was a bomber pilot and had been ordered to drop nuclear weapons on San Francisco and the surrounding areas. Carson initially liked the president, because he thought the commander in chief was pro-military, but over time saw him to just be a buffoon and insulated movie tycoon. When the orders and authentication came through, Gould decided to fly lazy circles around the Bay Area and landed the bomber with its payload intact. It was an insane order as the latest updates from the CDC on Zombie case incidence and prevalence had shown a clear downward trend, indicating that existing infection control methods were entirely sufficient and successful. Most pilots and aircrew agreed, though some trigger-happy pilot and crew decided to drop nukes on Los Angeles, rendering an enormous swatch of land inhospitable for at least a decade. Returning to the present, Carson Gould cleared his throat.\n\n“Absolutely. We have authentic, time-stamped documents and press releases from the CDC saying that new cases of zombies were noticeably dropping, new outbreaks were becoming much smaller than previous outbreaks, and that large-scale phase 3 clinical trials of the zombie virus vaccine were effective. The outbreak was clearly dwindling down when-”\n\nThe president cut him off.\n\n“You believe everything you see on TV? I’m the president. I know more than those doctors. You’re just a -”\n\n“Mr. President, it’s not your turn. Let the senator continue. Go on, Mr. Gould.” the debate moderator chimed in.\n\n“The zombie outbreak was clearly dying down when the president ordered us to nuke those cities. As you all might know by now, I was in the Air Force at the time, a bomber pilot, and I refused to kill innocent Americans. So for one, I think the president could have saved Americans by not ordering nukes to be dropped on innocent Americans. Further, I find it appalling that our president suggested -”\n\nThe president cut the senator off again.\n\n“I never said that! He’s a traitor. I like my pilots to follow orders. Deep state right here, folks, look at -”\n\n“Mr. President, wait your turn or we will cut your mic off.” the debate moderator bellowed. “Senator, continue.”\n\n“I found it particularly appalling that our president suggested he should have started nuking New York or San Francisco first, cities that clearly voted against him during the last election. Second, when the outbreak started, the president refused to enact the CDC’s response plan and instead tried to cut funding.”\n\nThe debate stretched on, with the president cutting off Senator Gould here and there, and the debate moderator not making good on her threat to cut the president’s mic off.\n\nr/tempehtimewriting" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Being immortal, you have seen the rise and fall of civilizations, it is now the 24th Century, and this new nation has rose out of the ashes of the previous, but something is different than all the ones prior..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My first thought was that this new empire was not going to last. I had seen it all before; the Egyptians, the Romans, the Mongols, the Americans, no one stays powerful forever. Usually greed overtakes them, causing them to reach too far, too fast, ultimately facilitating their destruction. There is also pride which causes them to fall; too strong a sense of nationalism can prove to be disadvantageous, as was proven by the German losses of WWI and WW2, and the United States' incredibly predictable loss of WW3. So of course when the Iglacians first came to question, I was skeptical.\n\nThey came from what was previously known in the United States as Yellowstone. They were a secret society of incredibly intelligent people who had calculated precisely when the Yellowstone Volcano was going to erupt, and planned accordingly in order to survive. Underground shelters were made, just small enough to accommodate for two or three families. Then, people started linking their shelters together. Now there were small, interconnected bases which housed several large families. By the beginning of the 22nd century, there was an entire underground system of cities that was unknown to over 99% of the population.\n\nOn May 11th, 2143, at exactly 9:43 AM, the Yellowstone Volcano erupted. The lava consumed the surrounding forests and nature preserves and left nothing but destruction in it's wake. Ash covered over 60% of the continental U.S., which thereafter became uninhabitable. Russia saw this as an ample opportunity to end WW3, and promptly dropped atomic bombs everywhere that was untouched by the volcanic ash, including Hawaii, Alaska, and Puerto Rico. There was no treaty signed, because there was no one left to sign it; the Russians made sure of that.\n\nMore than 100 years passed before the existence of the Iglacians became known to the rest of the world. An excavation team attempting to salvage remnants of the old America came across something completely unprecedented; an entire civilization that had remained undiscovered for over a century. The news was leaked immediately, and just as before the Third War, the entire world had it's eyes on America.\n\nThe Iglacians were extremely pale due to their lack of sunlight, but extraordinarily tough; they adopted a \"survival of the fittest\" attitude within the first decade of their founding. Their entire lives were devoted to their strength, both mentally and physically. There was no time for games, for relaxation, for love, because those things were considered to be \"inefficient training for the mind and body\". They had no leader, no system of government, no set of rules, only the fundamental practice of survival. There was no need for rules or government because they had logic. Their moral compasses were based on facts and statistics; if it was not beneficial to the colony, it should not and would not be done.\n\nAt first, ideas of birthing a new United States were thrown around between greedy politicians and rich entrepreneurs. Everyone believed that the Iglacians could change the world economy. They were smarter, faster, stronger, more efficient. They could improve current technology, create new ones, help the world achieve things that would never have been thought possible.\n\nEveryone was concerned with their own ideas; no one had even thought of what the Iglacians had in mind.\n\nThey began to kill. They logically deduced that killing all others who attempted to capitalize on the capabilities of the Iglacians was the only way to prevent the exploitation of their race. They began to expand to the surface, slowly but surely adjusting to the changes in their atmosphere. They expanded the reaches of their empire above ground, obliterating everyone in their way, eventually colonizing an area almost the size of the state of Texas before the Third War. Other countries eventually stopped trying to form alliances with them, for it was always met with brutal retaliation.\n\nThis was almost 40 years ago. The date now is January 1st, 2300. The Iglacians have set up several colonies in every previous continental U.S. state, and even one in Puerto Rico. They are unaffected by the lingering ash due to the adaptations made to the thick atmosphere underground. Their population is growing exponentially, which they are easily able to provide for using their advanced agricultural practices and medical procedures. The country which was formerly known as the United States is now being renamed The Iglacian Republic of America.\n\nMany countries think that they will just leave the Iglacians alone and the Iglacians will leave the rest of the world alone. I know that is not the case.\n\nThere is one thing that sets this new race of humans apart from any other on this entire planet; a quality revered by many, but desirable all the same. They have no remorse. Their moral compass is tied exclusively to the logical deductions that they make, which means that they will find the most efficient solution to any problem, and see to it that any obstacle to achieving that solution is dealt with. They know that with their population growing, they will have to expand their empire further, or overpopulation will be their downfall. They know that the Americas can only provide so much land, and that they will eventually have to conquer areas overseas. They know that they will meet heavy resistance when they attempt to take over other nations.\n\nBut they are not afraid. They know that they are stronger, smarter, more advanced. They know that the world is ignorant of just what the Igalcians are capable of. And they know that when the time comes, they will not hesitate to slaughter every single human being on this earth in order to do the only thing that they know that they have to do; survive." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Ever since the arrival of the dark lord, the thousands of heroes that pass by your shop and drain your coin in exchange for their loot. Now all that lies between the dark overlord and victory is you... and your endless supply of magical weaponry." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The tiny bell chimed as the door to the \"Ol' Drover\" slammed open. The door was regulation size, and the dwarf was short, but he still had to turn his body sideways to get his gaudy, oversize pauldrons through the entrance.\n\n\"I sell only the finest goods,\" declared the shopkeeper.\n\nThe dwarf barely grunted in response. He wasn't buying, he was selling. He marched up to the counter and started hauling items out of his bag of holding. A sword with magical flames dancing up and down the blade. A robe made of the finest silk that seemed to dance in a breeze that wasn't there. A wicked-looking dagger that disappeared if you looked directly at it.\n\n\"Making a special purchase?\" the vendor asked, but the dwarf just held out a gauntlet-covered hand waiting for his payment. No bartering, no small-talk, he just wanted to be paid so he could be on his way.\n\nThe vendor gave him the standard rate, and the dwarf turned to leave without a word, awkwardly shuffling around the elf waiting in line behind him.\n\n\"I sell only the finest goods,\" declared the shopkeeper once again, sliding the items the dwarf had sold him into a basket under the counter.\n\nThe elf seemed to cast some kind of minor spell, and a pile of items appeared on the counter.\n\n\"Making a special purchase?\" asked the vendor once again, but like the dwarf, the elf just wanted cash.\n\nAcross the city in the Treaty Room of Purnti Palace, King Vamgrind was rubbing the scar that always bothered him when he was dealing with annoying administrative issues.\n\n\"How is it that even possible?\" The king barked at his lord armourer. \"How can we be out of Valerian steel, when successful adventurers are constantly looting it from the minions of the Dark Overlord?\"\n\n\"Yes, your majesty, but for every adventurer who comes out of the portal laden with Valerian steel loot, another couple perish in the Nether Realms, and their steel is lost to us.\"\n\n\"Fine, well, what's happening to the steel that these adventurers bring back? Surely we can use that if our own supply is low?\"\n\n\"Well, yes, your majesty,\" Lord Armourer Nesbitt started. \"But, your majesty, the problem is, you see, we...\"\n\n\"Spit it out,\" said the king.\n\n\"Well, we can't find it,\" said the armourer, examining his boots.\n\n\"Can't find it?\" Sputtered the king. \"It's not being brought back to the armoury? What are these adventurers doing with it?\"\n\n\"Well your majesty, we think some of it is being turned into dust and crystals by enchanters. But, the majority... we just don't know sir. We've asked adventurers and each one claims they're doing everything they can for the war effort.\"\n\n\"Saddle my horse!\" cried the king. \"We're going to the portal.\"\n\nAs usual with the king, he gave his royal guard no time to prepare. The soldier leading the procession through the city was still fiddling with the clasp on his breastplate when the portal came into view.\n\nThe king halted the group and ordered everyone to dismount and back into a nearby alley where they could observe the portal without being too obvious about it. Still, the king had to keep gesturing to keep his subjects from bowing and curtseying as they walked by.\n\nIt wasn't long before an adventurer popped out of the portal. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the bright light, then made a bee-line to nearest shop, the Ol' Drover.\n\nThe king continued to watch as a warlock, a couple of paladins and something that looked like a strung-out bard all made the same pit stop.\n\n\"What is that shop?\" asked the king.\n\nThe guard captain had been an adventurer until recently, when a knee injury laid him up. He tried to keep the longing out of his voice while answering his king.\n\n\"Your majesty, it's more or less a general store,\" he explained.\n\n\"What do they sell there?\" asked the king.\n\n\"Odds and ends, your majesty. Twine, candles, carrots, that sort of thing.\" Explained the guard.\n\n\"Not exactly the sorts of things you'd need when coming back from an epic battle against a skeletal dragon, is it?\" Mused the king. \"And look, that Rogue is the third one I've seen counting coins as he came out.\"\n\nMeanwhile, inside the shop, the glassy eyed shopkeep's expression shifted. Through the window he could see the head of the king poking out of the alley gesturing towards his shop.\n\nThe bored look in the face of the ranger at the counter barely had time to change to a look of shock before he dropped to the floor, the hilt of a crystal dagger sticking out of his ribs.\n\n\"They couldn't possibly be selling their steel there, your majesty!\" exclaimed the Lord Armourer. \"How could the shopkeeper possibly pay for all of it?\"\n\nWithout warning, the front of the shop exploded. A grotesque monster seemingly built from shadows and rotted meat surged into the street, dragging a huge satchel behind it. Striding behind the monster, was a dapper looking creature in a dark robe with glowing eyes. The monster shambled through the portal, and the dapper gentleman followed, stopping just short of the portal.\n\nHe turned around, smiled at the king and gestured at the shop's sign, lying in the street. At his gesture, the letters came to life and danced around, eventually coming to rest in a new configuration: \"Overlord\".\n\nWith that, the Dark Overlord followed his minion through the portal, which winked shut behind him." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Apparently, vampire wealth is supernatural rather than a consequence of being undead. As a freshly turned vampire trying to keep it secret, you are beginning to have problems explaining to the tax collectors where your estate, maids and gold bars keep coming from." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Things had been strange for Henry since the attack a few weeks ago. An unknown creature had left him bleeding outside of his apartment complex. He barely had the strength to drag himself inside to safety. And when he finally recovered, he had found his skin would burn if he so much grazed a beam of sunlight. It was not hard to put two and two together. That had only been the start of his problems.\n\n“Mister Henry Warrens? It’s good to finally talk with you.”\n\nHenry waved the suited man inside Wildridge Manor. “Special Agent Lawson? Thank you for agreeing to meet with me at such a late hour to discuss this issue. Did you want anything to drink?”\n\nAgent Lawson stifled a yawn. “I’m fine, thank you. The sooner I can address the claims from the audit boys, the sooner I can go home. Still, it must be inconvenient to be stuck in your home like this.”\n\nHenry chuckled nervously. “It was all rather sudden. The sunlight sensitivity was rather disorienting. It made seeking medical help rather difficult. And since the doctors couldn’t figure out the cause, this was the best solution. I was lucky I was bequeathed this place. My tiny old apartment would have driven me nuts.”\n\nKeys and paperwork had shown up in his mailbox only a day after his transformation. And as far as his lawyer friend could tell, everything was legitimate. Henry and Agent Lawson now sat in a lavish sitting room. Old tapestries and paintings lined the far wall, though Henry had not placed them there. Packages had arrived at the manor, and the next morning the rooms were decorated. While Agent Lawson surveyed the room, Henry fidgeted in a tall-backed chair. The wood seemed ancient and probably very expensive. The padding was soft but did little to calm his nerves.\n\n“You’ve got a generous uncle,” Agent Lawson finally said. “Unfortunately, your recently acquired wealth set off quite a few alarms in our system. Your uncle was a reclusive person, and what information we had on him was sparse at best. I understand you’re still receiving items to add to your impressive… collection.”\n\nHenry only lowered his head, feeling the awkwardness claw at the inside of his stomach.\n\nAgent Lawson opened his briefcase and brought out a thick folder. “I brought you some paperwork. The agency was hoping you could keep a list of all the things that arrive. It would help ensure that nothing your uncle owned was stolen. This way, we won’t have to bother you as much in the future.”\n\n“Oh. I’ll get right on that.” The stack of papers was much heavier than it looked. “And the deposits?”\n\n“They’ll be on hold for a while longer while we attempt to trace the source. If everything comes back clean, it will be yours to use. Though, I would recommend brushing up on tax laws considering your new tax bracket.”\n\n“Right.” The information was all a bit overwhelming.\n\n“Next – ”\n\nBefore Agent Lawson could continue, the doorbell rang. Henry frowned in confusion.\n\nAgent Lawson coughed politely. “Were you expecting someone?”\n\n“No.” Henry got to his feet slowly. “My friends don’t even know I moved here yet.”\n\nThat got Agent Lawson to stand as well. One hand brushed a lump at his side.\n\n“With such a prominent building now being own, I recommend you have security.” He followed Henry toward the entry hall. “You have a lot of wealth in here that thieves might seek to take.”\n\nHenry swallowed before croaking out, “Right.”\n\nHe opened the door to reveal a young woman dressed in a lacey maid outfit. It was chilly outside, yet she did not flinch.\n\nHenry could feel Agent Lawson’s judgmental eyes on the back of his head. “Uh… can I help you?”\n\nThe woman bowed. “Greetings, Master. My name is Sasha Tenebris. My family has sent me here to work as your maid.”\n\nAgent Lawson frowned. “A maid? I was under the impression Mister Warrens lived alone.”\n\nHenry pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do.”\n\n“That is correct. As I stated, I will begin working and living here today.” She bowed again. “This will fulfill the contract my parents made when I was a child.”\n\n“Contract?” There was a growing stack of letters in the dining room. Henry had not had time to go through them all yet.\n\n“Where are you from, Miss Tenebris?” Agent Lawson stepped toward her, still wary at the sudden intrusion.\n\nShe replied, “Romania.”\n\nThe frown on Agent Lawson’s face only deepened. “May I see your passport, Miss Tenebris?”\n\nSasha blinked. “My what?”\n\nAgent Lawson cleared his throat. “You are here to work as Mister Warrens’s maid, am I correct? Can I see your work visa?”\n\n“I’m here to fulfill a familial blood contract. Is that proof enough?”\n\nAgent Lawson squinted at her. “No, no it isn’t.”\n\nAnd so, Agent Lawson took the self-proclaimed maid away for more questioning. Henry watched as the car drove away with a thoroughly confused Sasha Tenebris in the back seat. She stared at the manor until they were out of sight. Only then did Henry let out a sigh of relief.\n\n“That’s the fifth maid this week.”\n\n...\n\nThat was far too many words for the 'clueless magical worker' joke.\n\nIf you're interested in my works, an archive of my various writing responses can be found in my writing portfolio, link through my profile.\n\nThanks for reading." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A giant man sized spider sits in your boss's office. A post-it note with the word \"boss\" is attached to its head. No one else seems to be perturbed by the situation" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "David: I come in the mornings early. The lights are usually off, and nobody else is there. Around 6:30 I can enjoy breakfast at my leisure. Before 7, uh, Ashley comes in early too.\n\nAshley: Yeah, yeah I bring my coffee and my blueberry scone in and get to the cubicle to get the morning started. David's always there which is a treat because I don't have to turn the lights on when he's not here. Oh, and sometimes I give him the rest of my scone.\n\nDavid: I get a full breakfast, which is good. Uh, Mondays are always a bit crazy. Randy likes to move about and check up on us once everyone gets in. Sometimes he'll stop at someone's cubicle and just watch us work for a bit before moving along. Randy isn't much of a talker, which is good. I'm not one for small talk anyway.\n\nWendy: I'm really glad to finally have a boss that doesn't harrass me or say anything creepy. He values my work and the effort I put in each day. And I think Randy is just a really chill boss. He's got an interest in corners and he's usually in the corners of rooms and just hangs out. I guess he can leave a little mess sometimes but, nothing near as bad as his office.\n\nDavid: Is Randy disorganized? Maybe...I think he just does things his own way and yeah, it might look like a mess, but maybe he just knows where everything is that way. If there's anything to fault Randy on, it's probably his emails.\n\nSeth: I get, so much email from Randy. I think I get a little too much email. I'm not sure what it is about me that he just...he likes to pick on me in particular and I have no idea why.\n\nWendy: Oh yeah. Randy's emails. Yeah. They can be a handful. It's tough to keep up with sometimes.\n\nAshley: It's like he thinks we have eight hands, but we don't, we only have two. Hehe, and yet the emails we just, we gotta answer them all for the day. At least 6 replies.\n\nDavid: I like the emails. I'd honestly rather be replying to Randy than doing work.\n\nSeth: Like, okay! This is the seventh time I've gotten just pictures of house interiors today. Last week it was attics. The week before that it was backyard gardens. I don't know why but I guess Randy cares so much about scouting for new homes. But one time I got an email where he sent me just dozens and dozens of pictures of red-kneed tarantulas. I think he might have been drunk.\n\nMatt: There is a literal gigantic spider in the office. No way am I going back to work are you kidding?! A giant spider shows up, replaces Olivia, takes over her office and people just accept that?! Not only that, he-! They called him Randy?! That spider has just the word \"Boss\" written on a post-it, attached to his head! Like-! I thought it was some sick prank, but...really! There is a giant spider, making webs out of the office! It's going to kill and eat everyone! And nobody sees a problem with this?!\n\nWendy: Sometimes, I think Randy is just misunderstood. He's been really chill and sweet.\n\nDavid: We still don't know what happened to our secretary, but we figured she quit when Oliva left. Although...I swore I saw her shoes in Randy's messy office. And what looks like a lifesize doll wrapped up in web that Randy often looks at and guards. It's probably some sort of kinky affair. I keep my nose out of it." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 900-1000 words. Prompt: I could walk out anytime I wanted to, but the cage was comfortable. Familiar." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It...started with a flyer. The kind that gets shoved into your hand by a teenager with a gleam in their eye you know all too well has an expiration date. You know the type--the ones with an unrealistically optimistic view of the world and a drive to make a change that will only fizzle out at the first real whiff of the stench we call reality. Family deaths. War. Famine. Crime. Religious extremism. The true state of the world is far cry from the fake reality we post on our Instagram and Facebook accounts. The mask we all put on to hide the struggles we all face. The world connected through the very thing that'll tear us apart.\n\nMy reality? Lawyer. Family Law specifically. Divorce proceedings. Custody hearings. Day in. Day out. Been like that for 10 years now. Families tore apart with a slash of the pen across paper. Cutting the lives of those affected forever. I help the process along with an understanding disposition. My mask I wear.\n\nI don't know why the flyer resonated with me. Maybe it was the opportunity to focus on something outside of the blur my mask projects onto my eyes. Maybe I just wanted an escape from the constant badgering of complaints from clients. The stories of abuse. The stories of hatred. You should hear some of the vile shit that comes out of these people's mouths. In the end, it usually comes down to money. Always money. Fuck the money. I have enough.\n\nRegardless, the clock on the wall says I've been in here for over a month.\n\nAll I have to do is sit in this cage. I'm not locked in or anything. There are...or...were others. They told us they wanted to see how long we'd stay in an unlocked cage voluntarily. Told us it was a competition. Last one standing gets...something. They didn't say what.\n\nAn old PA system announced the rules.\n\n1. You may leave whenever you wish. Just press the red button and the door will unlock.\n\n2. Once you press the red button, you will be given your payment and escorted out of the building.\n\n3. Any attempt at self-harm will immediately disqualify us.\n\n4. We will not tell you if or when the others leave.\n\nThe cage is fairly large I guess. A single bed on the north wall, a sink and toilet on the west. Shower head in the southwest corner and a small slot in the center of the door on the east wall. That slot acts as a portal to the outside world. Through it comes toiletries, food, water, and occasionally, something to fiddle with. They make me give up the toys at the end of the day. Probably not a good idea to allow me too much access to stimulation. After all, I'm their prized lab rat.\n\nNo one expects anything of me here. No cell phone. No Emails. Just...silence. I'm assuming the world has forgotten me like I forgot it. Just the hum of the lightbulb above my head and the three tones that toll for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.\n\nI know they're watching me. The little camera in the corner of the room tells me that. Sometimes I count how many times the red light blinks. Once every two seconds or so. Got to 750 once before losing concentration. I wonder if they know that's what I'm doing. It probably just looks like I'm staring into the camera.\n\nI've grown to like it here. 3 meals a day. A bed. A shower. What more do you need really? Better yet--no stress. No Facebook. No Instagram. no Twitter, Pinterest, or Tumblr. No documents. No family drama. No depressing news stories. No reports on what the President did or didn't do at his fucking ceremony for rich fucks or whatever it was for. Just. Me. Me. me. Me. Me. me. Me. me. me. Me.\n\nJust me. All me. One is me. me. me. me. Not you. me.\n\nWhy do you need--what do you need the world for anyway? It's just MURDER. and DEATH and LYING. People LIE. They LIE they LIE they LIE. All the time! Lie. Lie. Lie. Lying and bullshit. EVERYONE. What? Are you looking at me for? I'm the one in the cage! You WANT me to leave, don't you! OHHHHH I got your number buddy. I'll NEVER leave! I don't. Want. To. HAHAHhhhahaha. You want me to leave. You'll be satisfied right? If I leave and fail your little experiment? Well, I GOT NEWWWSS FOR YOU.\n\nThe distant ramblings of Patient 6 in his ears, Dr. Iqbahl sighs as he leans back in his chair and starts rubbing his temples.\n\n\"Jesus.\" He exhales.\n\nDr. Harut walks in the room behind him and picks up the remote to the closed-circuit T.V.\n\n\"Patient 6?\" she asks.\n\n\"It's always 6 isn't it?\" he says in an exasperated tone.\n\nDr. Harut turns the volume down on the T.V. and takes a seat in her own chair as she watches Patient 6 jump up and down on his bed.\n\n\"How long has he been going this time?\" she asks, finding her clipboard and pen.\n\n\"He just started.\" he states as he flips a page on his clipboard. \"and it seems he has concocted another story as to why he's here.\"\n\nPushing her hair back behind her ear, her eyes roll. \"What is it this time?\"\n\nDr. Iqbahl, starts scratching the back of his head. \"He thinks he is free to leave--that he's here on his own volition.\"\n\n\"That's new.\" Dr. Harut says with an exasperated tone. \"Should we give him his lunchtime medicine now?\"\n\n\"Yea.\" Says Dr. Iqbahl, removing his hand from the back of his neck. \"Better make it a double today.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: You live in a small town which is said to be the location of many strange (even supernatural) events throughout history. You're being interviewed for a documentary. Tell us a strange tale that you or someone you know experienced." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“You’re asking what we've seen. Why, so you people can laugh at us some more?” says Otto, a stooped and wizened man. A native of this North Carolina community so small and isolated that backwater could hardly describe it. Otto claimed to be descended from an illicit son of Charles VI of Austria. Well, royalty is questionable, but it he seemed to be quite a bastard.\n\n“Every couple years someone comes here looking for the crazy sons of bitches. They always come in laughing, but they never leave that way. Why don’t you just pack up and get?”\n\nAnnoyed by this time and by nature a stubborn man I was not going just on principle. If he claims something he’s going to have to prove it. So I say “If there’s something odd then just tell me. If not then I’ll go. Which is it?”\n\nOtto replies with “Well if you are certain you can handle it I’ll tell you. You’ll laugh like all the others but that’s your problem”.\n\nHe then begins to tell about Ceres Rock as we walk. “You probably heard all about that place in Virginia where people settled and just vanished long before there was an America but I bet you never heard of Joara.” When I admitted I had not he continued. “Well, the short of it is that Joara was a native settlement which had been around since the beginning of time so people say. The Spaniards set up some forts and called this place our own some 40 years before Jamestown. Them damn Catholics (said with a surprising vehemence and a bout of spitting), couldn’t leave those Indians alone. They went about converting what they could and killing what they couldn’t. Those folks didn’t respect a thing and even built a fort, San Juan I think it was.”\n\nHe paused a moment as if deciding where we would head, both in discussion and direction, and then we moved on.\n\n“Well anyway, we had these university people come here and dig up the fort and say the Spanish were killed by those who lived here. Well damn good reason they had, but they didn’t do it and we here know better.”\n\nI confess that I was completely taken in by Otto’s story and lost track of time. I looked an my phone and saw we had been walking hours although it seemed like moments. I wondered how that could be, but attributed it to being focused on the man, his tale, and my musings. Otto continued “We’re almost there”. When I asked where, he said that he wasn’t finished talking and to shut up and listen. I should have been offended, but I found I almost burst out laughing and gratefully caught myself in time. “So anyway where was I? Oh yeah. Those professors and students got it all wrong. No one was attacked. Well, sorta. Ah, here we are.”\n\nWe entered a circular clearing perhaps two hundred yards across and covered with lush vegetation. Maze, beans, berries, wheat- it looked like some crazier version of Johnny Appleseed came through here and threw seed while twirling blindfolded through the area, yet it seemed to have some subtle order I couldn’t grasp. It was beautiful and eerie, but not the most remarkable thing by far. In the exact center of the clearing was a stone, the likes I hadn’t seen before. I circled clockwise and every few feet it seemed to change. Marble, then quartz, then granite, and other minerals I couldn’t identify, and the whole thing infused with beryl and agates and again things I’d not seen. It was a wholly remarkable geological find.\n\nOtto said “There it is. The reason the natives came here. The reason the Spaniards were taken and why you are here today.”\n\nSomething in his words struck me, but I didn't quite catch what that was.\n\nHe continued, “This is Ceres Rock. You know about Ceres?” I replied “You mean the big asteroid? Are you saying this is part of a big space rock?”\n\n“Hell no, yer dumber than you look. Ceres was a goddess who looked over crops. This is her rock, maybe even what’s left of her.” At this point I realized that I was had, taken in by a yokel’s yarn.\n\nHe looked at me and said. “Yer laughing inside. They all do, but I’ll tell you all the truth there is anyway.”\n\nI stood arms folded and listened but not happy at all.\n\n“OK, those damn Catholics wouldn’t leave things alone even though the natives kept them alive. Those bastards saw themselves as conquers of savages but couldn’t live off the land. They were starving but for some reason I’ll never get the locals fed them, brought them back from death from starving. You’d expect some gratitude but no.\"\n\n\"The Spanish figured that there must be some secret place where this food was stashed so they grabbed one of the Indians and tortured the poor son of a bitch into telling them where they got the food. Well the chiefs or whatever they called themselves took their people and vanished overnight. Everyone without a sound. Naturally the invaders weren’t going to let them get away so they tracked them to this place, where hundreds were on their knees.”\n\n“So the bastards got out their swords because they realized they didn’t need the Indians anymore since they found the food.” Otto gestured with open arms to the field of so many crops then went on. “The story goes that a woman begged for their lives spared and the Spanish laughed at her to a man. Then it happened. The sons of bitches pulled their swords to cut down every last man, woman and child, but all the while circlin’ inwards towards the rock without realizing what was happening. When they realize what was happening they couldn’t move back, but continued on and the Rock somehow ate them.” My look of disbelief must have registered with him and he said “No, it didn’t grow a mouth, but it swallowed them anyways. All gone and a ruined fort all to show for it.”\n\nI stood and helplessly laughed while saying, “Old timer you can spin a tale and that’s for sure. You almost had me going. I’m an idiot, but I am going to write just how good you are. The mystery is solved. I’ve found the home of the best bullshitters in the world\".\n\nHaving done this I looked up and found I had my hand on the rock, but couldn’t pull away. I cried out for help, but Otto shook his head and said “I’m sorry youngin, but old Ceres don’t brook no disrespect. As I think she sees it you didn't laugh at me but her. Son you are screwed”\n\nI’m being drawn deeper as if some great claw has me by the wrist. Unable to even speak I hear the last human words of my life. “I told you they always come in laughing, but they never leave that way.”\n\nEdit- Apologies to the prompt writer. Never begin anything without that second cup of coffee or one might write from a different perspective than asked for." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: Every day this creepy magic sword appears before you asking to be drawn. This thing gives off bad vibes, but feeling adventurous you oblige and take out a sketchpad to begin your work. However the drawing turns out so good that you decide to drop out of school to become a freelance artist." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The sword was back. Again. It came to Scott every day. It was always just there, leaning against the wall. It was a nasty looking thing. Black hilt that looked like it was wrapped in hedgehog skin. A blood red gem on the pommel. He could not see the blade, since it was sheathed, but that sheath was a nasty thing. It looked like black leather adorned with images of people in pain.\n\nScott was bored with seeing it, since it showed up so often. He would have ignored it, except it had the nasty habit of talking.\n\n\"Draw me Scott.\" It said in his mind. The words seemed to echo, and made his stomach twist into knots. \"Draw me and become more than you ever could have imagined.\"\n\nScott sighed. He usually just ignores the obviously evil weapon. But today was Saturday and he was in a good mood.\n\n\"Okay, fine. I'll draw you.\" He said. The gem on the pommel seemed to glow slightly.\n\n\"Excellent. Together we shall...what are you doing?\"\n\n\"I'm going to draw you. Can't do that without a sketchpad and pencils and stuff.\"\n\nScott sat on his bed, where he could see the sword clearly and set the blank pad on his lap. He place the tip of the pencil in paper and began to draw.\n\n\"That... that's not what I meant.\" The sword said. \"I meant you should--\"\n\n\"Shush, evil sword. I'm working.\"\n\n\"Evil? I, well, I suppose so. But my name is--\"\n\n\"I said shush! I have to capture your inner essence.\"\n\nOr something like that. He had not really drawn much since high school. Now that he was in college, he had more important things to do. But this was actually kind of fun.\n\n\"My inner essence? I am World Eater, the blade of endless destruction! My inner essence is that of endless death and chaos! You cannot capture that on a piece of cheap paper and a no. 2 pencil!\"\n\nScott kept drawing. He was in the zone now. He barely paid attention to the sword's exclamations. He did not even know how long it actually took to finish the sketch.\n\n\"There, all done.\" He said proudly. \"What do you think? Oh, uh, can you see stuff?\"\n\n\"My pommel, made from the blood of gods, sees all.\"\n\n\"Okay then.\"\n\nHe turned the picture around to show the sword.\n\n\"I don't...hey, that's not bad.\" The sword said. \"Not professional, by any means, but not bad.\"\n\n\"I know, right? I think I found my calling. I'm going to be an artist! Forget college, this is what I was meant to do. I mean, really, a communications degree? What was I thinking?\"\n\n\"Uh, you know, art school is a thing, Scott.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I know Evil Sword. But why do things their way when I can discover my own style on my own? Besides, I always thought going to college just to learn to draw was stupid. You can do that on your own, right?\"\n\n\"I... suppose so? If I were a mortal human instead of the embodiment of death and destruction, I would still look into it though.\"\n\nNope, not gonna fly. I'm going to go talk to the registration people about dropping out. And then, I've got art to make.\"\n\n\"Wait, Scott!\" The sword called after him as he left the room.\n\nThe sword sighed. \"Damn it. Well, maybe I'll have better luck with that goth girl three doors down.\"\n\nAnd with that, the sword vanished into nothingness, in an attempt to find someone a little smarter to wield him." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A new form of energy storage can be made by edging someone for extended periods. You feel a climax coming from the cumulative period of being teased in anticipation of a brownout" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Alice felt John's fingers around her slender tiny body. Held only by his fingertips as he brought her out of the black closed bag and under his gaze. She had been trapped in that black bag for the last 10 hours, ready to go at a moment's notice. For a moment his eyes met hers as she lay back on his palm.\n\n“100%” said Alice triumphantly, she hadn’t leaked a single watt hour in that time.\n\nJohn was a creature of habit, he sat her on his desk, a long slender black USB cable perfectly sized for her tight little hole. Without preparation or even a conscious thought he slid it into her, the cold metal fitting her perfectly like a key in a lock. Alice’s face flushed red as she gasped out.\n\n“Charging…”\n\nHere she would stay with the slow gentle hum, not enough to discharge. Just the computer controlled perfect amount to keep her on the edge. Alice would hate that computer's USB port if she didn't love it so much.\n\nClaire… the fucking slut… John had a completely different treatment for her, she sat moaning away in never ending ecstasy as data flowed in and came out of her. When John watched a movie Alice would have her maddening moans in the USB port beside hers. Alice closed her eyes. Imagining what it would feel like if he accidentally switched their cables. (She knew it didn’t work like that but fantasies rarely made sense.) Just a slip of the wrong cable and she could release every last bit of tension. Gasping out the only theoretical ‘0%’. The thought alone was almost enough. Her display flickering to 99% before the expert cable pushed her maidenly back to 100. It’s firm controlling hand on her pelvis dictating her. Controlling every madden…\n\nThe cable stopped. Claire was silent. John hit his space bar twice before looking to the lights. What had happened? Her face lost it’s flush of a red light and she called out.\n\n“Ready…” a phrase usually reserved for the mornings before bag time. Johns hand reached for her, not Claire, not the bluetooth bimbo.\n\nHer.\n\nAlice didn’t care what had happened, he held her and that was all that mattered. The dead cooling hand of the computer was pulled out of her. John’s fingers held something, it was too large for her small port. Alice felt it slide into a place he hadn’t yet used. She felt things she had only herd about. Her skin was electric as she was finally aloud to cum. His phone screen lit up but Alice didn’t care. He herald her as release finally took her.\n\n“I’m cumming!” shouted Alice, her face ticking down the percentiles as she rode his leg. As maddening as these hours had been it was all worth it. The phone was one thing and Alice had flown so close to the sun her wings melted. When John plugged in his vape however. Alice was the sun, burning hot on his thigh, cumming so hard she was sure she broke something. Her numbers flashed down maddeningly fast. Releasing every last inch of herself into the plug.\n\n“Z-zero percent!”\n\nShe was there. Empty. Laying in the dark as her body cooled. He tried to plug her a few times but Alice could barely manage a tingle.\n\n“You did well to last this long.” said John, his hand gently patting her.\n\nThe lights came on, Alice barely noticed in her daze. The controlling hand once again at her pelvis.\n\n“Charging 1%...” gasped Alice." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: You are a supervillain posing as a student at a hero academy to learn their secrets. The staff knows you're a villain but haven't kicked you out yet because you aced the heroic potential test." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "To Mum and Dad\n\nIt has been astounding really. It's already April, nearly time to break for the Easter holidays, and I haven't been found out. I mean, I knew they were a bunch of dim witted hero kids but surely my occasional evil smirks and streaks of unrivaled genius would have tipped them off. Half a school year of posing at the best hero academy in the united kingdom and not a single student or teacher had managed to clock the fact i was, in fact, the very evil that they were trying to protect the world from. To be frank, it was just a little embarrassing.\n\nThe embarrassment doesn't really stop there either. Not only do all the people at the academy seem thick, with hearts of gold and egos the size of mountains, a lot of their quirks seemed to be pretty week- at least in comparison to some of the villains i had seen over the years. Villains held veritable armies of people that could manipulate things like time, matter and minds. The most impressive quirk I'd seen at the academy was nasalkenisis. Okay, laugh if you want, but you tell me that suffocation via the sudden materialisation of never ending mucus wasn't a scary way to go- not to mention the fact the power could be used to drain out all the minerals and water in the body isn't a scary way to get taken out.\n\nAnyway, back on track, I've infiltrated their ranks and made friends with a few of the higher level quirk kids. A lot of these guys might actually be dangerous if they had the balls to villain up a bit, get their quirks dirty. But they won't. They'll hold back.\n\nReport over.\n\nJad.\n\nI put the pen down on the table and neatly folded the note. I may have been born into a villainous family, but that didn't make me a savage. I preferred things to be near, clean, perfect. It was funny that, us villains always seemed to be the tidy and efficient ones while the heroes were the foolhardy brash bunch who ran headfirst into things making a mess of everything. Perspective.\n\n\"You writing back to your folks again,\" came a stuffy, but admittedly cute, voice from behind. It was almost ironic that the girl who could control the noses of others at a whim could barely control the stuff in her own.\n\n\"Yeah, you know how it is. They get nervous when i haven't sent a message back to them for a while. Quirkless and all that, don't understand I'm pretty much as safe as can be here,\" I replied, forcing a tight smile onto my face. Keeping up the act was tough when every fiber of my being told me to take out the potential threat of a future hero such as the girl in front of me.\n\n\"Must be tough, having quirkless parents,\" the girl, Miranda or Martha or something else beginning with M, said.\n\n\"Ah we get by, they worry, I write. If it didn't break all the rules I'd just head home myself at times,\" I lamented, lathering the faux sadness on extra thick. She lapped it up and nodded knowingly. \"So, was there something you wanted?\"\n\n\"Well, i have this package...\"\n\nI rolled my eyes but forced myself to keep the smile. My quirk was incredibly useful. I mean, being able to open a portal from one place to literally anywhere else in the universe tends to be. It did have the nasty side effect of making other people want to use my powers for their own needs, like sending parcels. Being the upstanding fake hero i was, i had to comply. But that didn't mean i couldn't turn the situation to my advantage.\n\n\"Well, you know the rates,\" I stated, holding my hand out for whatever she wanted me to deliver. She gave me a small parcel. She sent a lot of them, always to the same place. At least once a week. \"You send a lot of these... Never asked what they were for, but I'm curious.\"\n\nShe shuffled on the spot, clearly uncomfortable with my question, but in typical hero fashion she began to monologue. \"My little sister... At first we thought she was like your parents, quirkless, but it turned out to be worse than that. One day she got sick, and we took her to a medic. I mean with these healing quirks we can patch up just about any illness, but whatever she had... Couldn't be fixed. Later we found out she had a very rare form of quirk. It wasn't one that helped her, it was one that hindered. Sort of a mutation of my quirk, but much much worse. The stuff i get you to send, it's a sort of quirk suppressor. Keeps her under control, removes her powers... So they don't kill her first...\"\n\nI didn't want to admit it to myself, but I felt moved by the story. Something in me shifted. I wanted to help, not a pretend, an actual desire, and now that I'd realised it... It had latched on instantly. Grew. I was like the Grinch who stole Christmas, my heart was beating and growing three sizes. My parents would not be happy.\n\n\"You know what... Keep the money...\" I said, before i could stop myself.\n\n\"keep it?\"\n\n\"Yeah. Keep the medicine too. My quirk is limitless, and there's this doctor in the Cygnus cluster I know. I'm going to save her.\"\n\n-Meanwhile in the Headmasters office-\n\nThe headmaster, a big burly man with a twirling mustache and bulging muscles, smirked at the smaller teacher. They were both watching the screen in front of them, and had witnessed the Villain infiltrator make his offer.\n\n\"Told you he'd pull through for us. You owe me fifty quid,\" the headmaster laughed." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: Humans have the power to sacrifice their life to revive someone else. But instead of using this to revive their loved ones. Rich people farmed humans just to sacrifice for them to be immortal." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It was once a great honor to be selected for Continuation. My entire line is descended from those who gave “the self” so that their families may prosper. My father, just like his father and his father before him, knew of their duties at a very young age.\n\nWe were told we were human bridges for the holy class, the elites, that spoke to God. Bridges that they used to facilitate God’s word, so that they may “continue God’s will here on Earth,” we were told as children. We were well educated and had want for none, my fathers and I. My siblings and their future children would also enjoy the fruits of our obligations but would be allowed to live out their natural lives unlike my fathers and I.\n\nMy fate is sacrifice. I must be sacrificed so that my liege may continue on to serve a higher purpose. My little sister, Kim, however speaks of heresy and wants me to run to the lawless Americas. I disagree and try to lighten the mood by saying “I’ll probably be a dud when I Sacrifice, anyway”.\n\n“We can go together, all of us,” Kim interrupted. “We can simply not return from summer holiday and get a private charter to New York,” she excitedly explained without taking a breath. “I don’t want to lose you like we lost Daddy!”\n\nI let her cry into my shirt as our brother Mike punched the wall.\n\n“I don’t want you to go either! I have friends at University that don’t support the Sacred Ones. They say we’re just being harvested like cattle. My mates in the dorms are all convinced Billy Fisher was kidnapped and forced to Self Sacrifice last semester. The police said he died while riding a motorcycle… but,” Mike hesitated as he scanned the hallway. “Billy didn’t know how to ride a motorcycle,” he whispered. “In fact, he’s afraid to even get on a scooter,” Mike finished.\n\nI could not entertain such thoughts of fancy and told them both as much, but they were steadfast in their decision to help me stay alive and swore me an oath. Of course I agreed, I loved them both dearly but it was my duty so I continued to prepare for today, my day of Self Sacrifice for my Liege.\n\nI had spent the morning dining on sweet breads and honeyed meats, delicious quiches and exotic fruits - a literal king’s banquet had been laid out before me on my day of Sacrifice. This would be my last breakfast and I intended to make it a good one. It wasn’t until I’d finished my 3rd stack of pancakes that I noticed military boots and bustling activity in the outer hallways.\n\nSomeone said something about an attack from the east.\n\nAnother was heard to report the loss of Capital City.\n\nSomething hit the base of the palace with a thud that shook the chandeliers and then everything went haywire. There were alarms and explosions going off everywhere. Military units flooded onto our floor and began grabbing those who had accompanied their loved ones for today’s ceremony.\n\nThe soldiers began “using” their captives to refresh their wounded. Those being “used” scream out in horrific pain as their life force, drained against their will, shriveled them down to husks. It only serves to heal the wounded if done by force. You must be a willing volunteer in order for the Healed to regain their youth and full vitality again.\n\nThere was blood and death everywhere. Screams of the soldiers intertwined with those of the unwilling martyrs. Someone bashed my head from behind…\n\n\n\n…I awoke tied to the altar, my Liege dead by my side, apparently mid-ceremony. Frantically, I look around seeing only 2 cloaked figures walking towards me armed with long blades.\n\nI cried out for them not to hurt me but the approaching figures remained silent.\n\n“I won’t volunteer for you! I’ll be of no good to you,” I scream in fear until a hand touches my shoulder.\n\nA familiar laughter coupled with familial smell filled the air.\n\n“You’re probably a dud anyway,” they mocked as I fell to the floor crying with joy." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: You have incredible superhuman powers. You use them to work a regular job, and you do it really, really well." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Cayenne kept her eyes closed for most of her shift. \"Welcome to CompuCare, you're talking to Cayenne Sparrow. Could you please be so kind and tell me what the issue is?\"\n\nAn angry customer came through the line: \"Do you know how long I have waited to get through?\"\n\nCayenne knew that it was 25 seconds: \"I apologise for the wait, I understand that it's not pleasant to wait in queue. But now that you came through, how can I assist you?\"\n\n\"I was just browsing something and suddenly the screen colours are all weird and I cannot get them not to be. I cannot even close the browser!\" he said grumpily.\n\nShe understood what happened immediately and could have gotten him off the phone in an instant, but had to do the entire spiel about gaining agreement, authentication, upselling, and other business stuff. All while keeping the customer under the explosive level.\n\n\"Could you please press the following keys?\" she listed four keys which inverted and reverted the screen colours for the sake of accessibility.\n\n\"Oh, wow, it works now!\" the customer said, seeming happy for the first time.\n\n\"Yeah, these keys invert the screen colours. This helps with accessibility, but to be honest, I normally use that mode to use my computer in bed!\" Customers love getting 'special information', no matter how fake it is. Cayenne didn't even have one of the laptops.\n\n\"I didn't know that this existed! Thanks for the help!\" the customer, now placated and probably closing some explicit browser tabs or windows, almost seemed friendly.\n\n\"My pleasure, can I assist you in any other way?\" she asked.\n\n\"No, that's it! Thank you and have a great weekend!\" he said.\n\nShe worked the entire weekend. \"You too, if applicable! Goodbye!\"\n\nShe closed the call, added a few notes that she didn't during it only to see a shadow over her. Turning around, she saw her manager. \"Hey Tina, is anything up?\"\n\nTina asked her to switch herself to meeting and follow her to a meeting room. After the door closed, Tina said: \"I listened to your last call. We talked about not remoting into customer machines with your power.\"\n\nCayenne shook her head: \"We did and I didn't. That's just... not my first rodeo. It was clear that this custy had inverted his screen.\"\n\nTina seemed to be less annoyed now: \"I just ask because you had your eyes closed during the entire call and that makes me a bit suspicious. Technopaths normally don't do it when they are just resting their eyes.\"\n\nCayenne nodded: \"I am a visual thinker, it helps me to visualise the call flows. Also, I learned to touch type, so I can type with my eyes closed even on a typewriter. So, yeah, I understand you being vigilant, but I am aware of the rules. Don't worry!\"\n\nTina responded: \"Thanks for being so understanding. I admit that it's the first time I am working with a retired superhero, so I want to be certain that everything is above board.\"\n\nCayenne nodded: \"I understand. But believe me, I don't want to lose this job. It's so nice to work somewhere where the stakes are so low. That's why I rejected the offered promotion into business customer service. I know, it's not lucrative, not glorious, but it's the first time since finding my power that I can sleep well again! And I ain't gonna risk that!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Everyone on earth is blessed with everlasting good luck in one niche area of life. You've just discovered yours." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Most people discover their favor before they reach adulthood.\n\nConsider my best friend, David, for example. He knew he was meant for board sports the first time he stepped on a skateboard. It's not that he had some kind of innate skill in his actions; he's just lucky enough that his intuitive actions always allow him to keep his balance. Skateboarding, longboarding, surfing, snowboarding, even tight-rope walking have all been easy for him. He still has to learn the skills involved, but it sure helps to always be just lucky enough to stay balanced when others would probably have fallen.\n\nMy sister, Sakeena, seems to have been blessed with perfect skin on her face. She's been lucky enough to never have acne, never catch chicken pox, and never have a cut or bruise that leaves any kind of lasting mark. Our parents always said she would grow up to be a model some day. She could be in a commercial for some daily moisturizing wash that would inspire other, less-fortunate people to shell out cash just to get a face like Sakeena's.\n\nI'm one of the few remaining people at my high school that has yet to discover their favor. Some of my friends have joked that my sister's beauty must have used up my luck in life as well, since I seem to have normal results in everything I do. I laugh with them, but over the years I've become increasingly worried that they might be right.\n\nTomorrow is my eighteenth birthday though, which means tomorrow I can go to a favor-finder. I've been saving up for the past year to afford this test. I figured that if I ever figured it out myself before I turned eighteen I'd at least have that chunk of change saved up. To be honest, I'm really nervous that I'll be one of the disfavored.\n\nThe disfavored are the outcasts of life. They have no areas whatsoever in which they have been blessed with everlasting good luck. They were spoken of in the Dawnwritings: the compilation of records found from the nearly-apocalyptic time when luck was first bestowed upon humanity. The disfavored tend to live together, pooling what little luck they might have to try to stay alive. There doesn't seem to be any pattern or reason for who might be disfavored. It really just seems to be left up to luck.\n\nAfter the age of eighteen, all citizens are required to register their favor with the government. Favor-finders are able to make their money by testing so many different areas of life until they finally determine your favor. It's certainly possible to go to a government favor-finder for free, but they don't run nearly as many tests as the private ones. The chance of being labeled Disfavored is enough motivation for most people to save up for a high quality finder.\n\nMy alarm goes off at 6:00 AM. Today is the day I find out who I am. I shoot out of bed and get ready as fast as I can. The best favor finder I can afford works in New York City, which is over three hours from where I live. I figure if I'm going to do this I might as well do this right, even if that means forking over this huge sum of money.\n\nThe test is long. We start with physical traits. I've been injured plenty of times in life, and I've even broken my arm, so no luck there. I lose my balance easily enough, and I'm not particularly coordinated in sports. In mental traits I seem pretty average. I do poorly when given a difficult multiple choice test, so we know I don't happen to guess the right answer there. I don't happen to think of the right things in any areas of study that we try.\n\nThe test goes on for several hours. Most of it is just the favor finder asking me about my life, trying to find patterns or clues as to where I might find luck. In the end though, they come up with nothing.\n\nNothing.\n\nA disfavored.\n\nI hold back tears as I receive my results. What are my parents going to say? Maybe my friends were right, and Sakeena really did take my luck. I should have just kept my money and gone to a government favor finding clinic instead.\n\nAs I'm about to turn and leave, I hear the favor finding clinic's door open. A man in torn and ragged clothes walks into the building. He pulls out a pistol and levels it at me.\n\nNo, not at me. He's aiming at the favor finder employee right behind me. He shouts some nonsense about the system being rigged and then unloads his gun. I gasp as bullets fly by my face and shoulders into the employee behind me.\n\nAn off-duty police officer happens to be visiting a friend who works at the clinic, so he immediately tackles the gunman. I finally come to my senses after the officer has the man pinned down in handcuffs.\n\nThe police officer looks up at me and whistles a slow, descending note.\n\n\"You're pretty lucky not to have been hit by any of those bullets,\" he says to me. \"You were standing right in the way of them.\"\n\nI turn around and look behind me. The employee who gave me the test results is lying dead on the floor, and bullet holes can bee seen all around on the wall behind me. It almost seems like some of the bullets would have gone straight through me to hit the wall at those particular angles.\n\n\"Yeah...\" I say. \"Pretty lucky indeed.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You're a necromancer that teaches young paladins how to use their divine spells on the undead." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I looked over at the selection of bodies that the acolytes had exhumed for my demonstration. Some were fresh, having only been buried recently and some were even fresher still, having not been buried and given time to decay at all. Others were withered, rotting husks scarcely held together with their dried-out, paper thin skin.\n\nI liked to ensure a wide variety of options for the benefit of my pupils.\n\nI took in my surroundings, hoping everything to be perfect. The blood moon in the night sky cast my gloomy little courtyard in its dull, reddish tinge. Two large braziers far off to either side of me provided the actual lighting and across from the large stone slab on which rested my \"subjects\" were several granite benches for my students to sit while they operated.\n\nSpeaking of students..\n\nFour figures hooded in brown cloaks swiftly moved down an unlit path through the tall grass of the neighboring meadow. Necromancy was considered highly illegal in the province, punishable by death ironically enough, so our cult members and practitioners only ever moved and met in small numbers that could quickly disperse. They were taught to move furtively and swiftly, but as they drew nearer, I could notice a hectic nervousness in their movements. They seemed alarmed.\n\n\"Grandmaster\" the first of them said upon arrival. She was panting lightly, the sweat cascading from under her hood causing her long, black bangs to stick to her pale forehead.\n\n\"Speak freely, Aris,\" I grumbled, anticipating the worst. I knew it had been quiet for too long.\n\n\"Templars! They've stormed the Sanct and slaughtered the high priests!\"\n\nI scoffed. I hardly had any compassion for those old fools and their prattling. I momentarily contemplated at the very least resurrecting Father Veleste, the scroll keeper, but remembered the Templars' habit of burning the bodies of dead necromancers in purifying flames in order to prevent reanimation. Oh well.\n\n\"Then we will retreat to the catacombs,\" I answered. By now, my other paladins had caught up. Orbro, tall and square-jawed, made to speak.\n\n\"Where are the others?\" I swiftly cut him off. Rensis had caught up and was panting, her light, pale lavender eyes cast downward and Wren was clutching his arm, and appeared to be bleeding.\n\n\"Dead,\" Aris responded, Orbro still slack-jawed, \"or worse,\" she continued. \"Purified.\"\n\nMy face fell into a scowl. However, the way of our order was not to dwell on the loss of something so malleable as human life.\n\nI turned over to the assemblage of corpses on the stone table in front of me. With a casual weave of seals and wave of my hand, four of the \"healthier\" ones slowly rose from the table and stepped down.\n\nMy apprentices looked on in awe. Orbro's jaw slacked down even further and Rensis's opalescent eyes widened in amazement.\n\n\"Such ease...\" Aris muttered quietly, almost whispering.\"So effortless...\"\n\nEven Wren seemed to momentarily ignore his wound to gaze upon my casual display of prowess. However, now was certainly not the time.\n\nDiscard your cloaks and give them to my pets,\" I instructed. \"We will send them back the way you came in order to buy time. We need to move.\n\n\"But where are we going?\" Rensis squeaked, having finally caught her breath.\n\nAs my newly hooded diversions shambled away back down the path my apprentices had come from, I turned to answer.\n\n\"Like I said, the catacombs. As necromancers, our best hope against agents of purity is to congregate where we can channel the most power. So,\" my face slowly slid into a wicked grin that caused even my pupils to shiver, \"we're going to the crypts.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 500-600 words. Prompt: Time travel has become mainstream, after an ingenious fix for continuity errors have rendered the once dangerous concept, safe. People use their device to spend time away from the present, often returning decades later for them, but just in time to pick up the kids. Psychotherapy is in crisis." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It’s not a technical issue. The technical malfunctions have all been resolved.\n\nThe problem is philosophical in nature. Some might say an issue of the heart, of the soul, or of morality.\n\nDoctor Kelly looked at her patient with eyes of careful, nurturing, reprimand. “We’ve talked about this, Sal.”\n\nThe bald man blushed like a bashful baby. “I know Doctor Kelly, I know. But-“\n\n“No buts.”\n\nSal opened his mouth, then groaned and slumped back in his chair. “How was I gonna let him be all alone? How would that make me any different from everybody else?”\n\nThe Doctor took a deep breath, then scratched a few quick pen marks down on her pad. She wasn’t taking notes, only doodling stars, as she always did when she grew frustrated. “You still struggle with insomnia, tell me about that,” she said.\n\nSal looked pleased to change the subject, then the actuality of the new topic dawned on him, and his face drew long. “It’s not good, Doc. I still see those eyes shining out of the dark when I try to lay still. When I finally start to doze off, I feel a hand reach and brush my hair, then vanish when I look to see who’s doing it.” He shivered.\n\n“I see,” The Doctor said. “Tell me about the shining eyes, Sal.”\n\nHis eyes darted from side to side, scanning the room. “They’re like little moons, dimly shining, always open. They just....watch me.”\n\n“They’re yellow?”\n\n“Sorta yellow. Like...well, like little specks of moonlight, I’m tellin ya.”\n\n“That’s an interesting description, have you seen something similar anywhere else?”\n\nSal thought for a moment, rubbing his chin. “Where have I seen the moon before,” he asked wryly, “Huh, I don’t know, Doc. You really stumped me.”\n\nDoctor Kelly nodded, drew a few stars, then continued. “Fair enough. Tell me about the hand you felt, Sal.”\n\n“It’s a heavy hand. Large, calloused and leathery. It’s gentle, but...” he blushed, “clumsy.”\n\nThe Doctor gave her patient a long, considering look. “When you say the hand is large, how large?” She raised her hand, “Larger than mine?”\n\nSal laughed, “Course it is.”\n\nDoctor Kelly nodded, “And the hand has been the same since you were a little kid, sleeping alone in the Orphanage?”\n\n“Just about,” Sal said.\n\n“Do you feel alone, Sal,” she asked.\n\nThe question took him aback. “I.... yes.”\n\nShe bit her lip. “Let me see your Travel 3000 gear, I assume you brought it with you?”\n\nHe blushed even more furiously than before, “Yeah...”\n\n“It’s alright, let me see it.”\n\nHe handed her the chrome headset. She raised it so that it was level with her head. “Start it up.”\n\nHe placed his thumb on the center console, and the gear sprang to life with a familiar bing.\n\n“Lights off,” she said. Her office lights went out. The faint glow of the Travel Tech’s eye spheres provided the only illumination in the room.\n\nShe heard Sal gasp. “Lights on.”\n\nWhen her eyes readjusted, she found her patient pale. “Moonlight,” he whispered.\n\nIt’s not a technical issue, you see.\n\nIt’s more philosophical in nature.\n\nHuman beings, in our inquisitive, caring, humble nature, strive to love each other and ourselves to the best of our ability. We share this lovely instinct, that we should sacrifice for the better of the collective.\n\nYet, we are imperfect. We are broken things. And often, as broken things tend to do, we hurt where we mean to help.\n\n~\n\nr/CharlestonChews" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: A bunch of dragons playing HnH; Houses and Humans." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“OOOoohhhhh I want to be the Landlord!” the smallest one roared as they each heaved their own slabs of rock with ancient letters carved into their faces.\n\n“Now Rhaegal, Fafnir has ALWAYS been the landlord, you have a character sheet don’t you?” Smaug glanced over at the smaller green dragon.\n\n“Yes” Rhaegal pouted “But can I be Landlord next time?”\n\n“Of course” Fafnir rumbled and exhaled a bit of smoke from his nostrils.\n\n“Okay working from left to right then” Fafnir rumbled “Please introduce your characters and then I will introduce the scenario. Saphira go ahead please”\n\nSaphira used a massive claw to mark her slab of stone. “I am a level one human, I am the human resources class and I rolled charisma and dexterity, my name is Eragon and -”\n\nFafnir roared, the cacophony echoing off the nearby peaks.\n\n“I mean my name is Molly and I have been working there for just under a year.”\n\nRhaegal went next, speaking quickly and quietly\n\n“My lvl 1 human is named George and is a temp…”\n\n“Is that all?” Fafnir sighed and Rhaegal looked to Smaug\n\nFafnir nodded and gestured to Smaug who had been shining the jewels along his belly with his tail.\n\n“I am using my old character J.R. and he is a Management Type, I have been there…” he paused and rolled the many sided die the size of an ox. “I have been working there for nearly four years. J.R. has a tie imbued with wisdom and charisma. Puff” he nodded to the dragon on his left.\n\n“Ohhhh yeeess…” Puff rubbed his claws together “Mine is Gary, he is a level seven and -” he stopped as Fafnir shook his massive horned head “Level one? Okay level ooone… and he is a Numbers Wizard, a conjurer of characters. Gary is the head of accounting.”\n\n“And totally min/maxed into intellect… Dragonite muttered.”\n\n“What?” Puff demanded but Dragonite ignored him\n\n“My character is named Raticate and he has Teeth of Charming, he is an intern in the advertising department and he has mostly perception and charisma.”\n\n“Okay, so this being a new set of players is starting off a bit unorthodox” Fafnir grumbled. “But I will get us started, is everyone ready?”\n\nThey all nodded and Fafnir rearranged the three boulders in front of him.\n\n“You are in the vast, sprawling port city of Metropolis, there are modern carriages on the streets as all sorts go to their places of employment. You all arrive at Business Company Incorporated, you are in your morning meeting discussing your upcoming Money Project.”\n\n“I want to make a perception check” Smaug blurted out\n\n“Ah… a perception check on what?” Fafnir looked confused\n\n“I want to check… the Business Company.”\n\n“For… what?”\n\n“Gary wants to pick Raticate pockets” Puff cooed\n\n“HA!” guffawed “Raticate has no pockets! Idiot! Raticate uses Hyper Fang!”\n\nSaphira glanced down at her boulder and snatched the die “Molly rolls a perception check to see if she sees Gary grab Raticate’s haunches! This is a ‘sexual assault’ situation and triggers one of my special abilities!”\n\nDragonite snatched the die away “I need to see how much damage my Hyper Fang does, Gary, what is your Armor Class or rating… or whatever?”\n\n“My whaaaat?” Puff looked to Fafnir who was scrambling to find data on his boulders.\n\n“This is absurd!” Smaug roared “such insubordination!”\n\nRhaegal was trying to peek over Fafnir’s shoulder and see what the Landlord had planned.\n\nSmaug snatched the die away “This mutiny cannot go on! I cast ‘Layoffs’!” the die clattered across the flat stone and came to a rest right in front of Fafnir.\n\n“Whoa!” Rhaegal cried out. The die had landed on twenty. “Crit!” Rhaegal cried out, still looking over Fafnir’s shoulder.\n\nFafnir swatted him away with his tail and Smaug let out a happy burst of fire.\n\n“That's a crit, I win, right?”\n\nFafnir grumbed and smashed the boulders with a swat from one of his massive limbs.\n\n“Can I be landlord now?”Rhaegal whined.\n\n(Full disclosure: Never played DnD at all, sorry if I butchered it.)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: “Why?” The young man asked with tears in his eyes. The older man smiled. “Because, my son, you wanted to be a hero, so I gave you a villain.”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The oracle told me he was born under the most cursed star in the sky.\n\nHis very birth was an omen that stole the life of the woman I loved, meant to be the start of a life of darkness. By all rights they told me I should hate the boy, end him before he would start his path to darkness.\n\nBut I cannot. He has her eyes. Within his smile I see his mother's, recalling joy when she told me she was pregnant so long ago. Holding him in my arms I feel same warmth I felt in her embrace. She truly loved this boy with all her heart. I love this boy with all my heart. How could I kill this child?\n\nSo I ran. Far away from the oracle who told me of his dark fate, far from all who heard her words and believed them, far from the body of the woman I swore to spend eternity with. Praying she would forgive her husband for leaving her alone without so much as a grave. Would Lucia agree with this? I asked my self many a night with him cradled to my chest. I could only hope so.\n\nWe settled somewhere far away. A remote village isolated from the kingdom I once called my home. No longer on the run I finally decided on a name, well rather I settled for Albert. I never was the best with naming things and Lucia always liked the name.\n\nThe oracle was wrong about my son. Even if he was born under the most cursed star in the sky his smile shone brighter than the stars. Albert listened to my past tales of heroics religiously. He practically jumped with joy when I agreed to teach him everything I knew. My boy would be the strongest hero in the land, oracles and stars be damned.\n\nSure enough I was right. Albert took to swordplay and magic like a fish to water. Perhaps it was good breeding? I was no slouch as a knight back then and Lucia always did have an affinity for the arcane arts. By the time he was 17 I was running out of things to teach him. I knew in my heart that he would be the strongest hero the land has ever seen. But behind that pride that swelled in my chest I also felt dread.\n\nI found out what the oracle meant when she foresaw a life of darkness within him. Demons and beasts were magically drawn to him. Thanks to the cursed star he was beloved by them, and one beloved by demons is bound to fall prey to their vile whispers.\n\nIt was easy enough for me to cut them down before they could speak to him. But their numbers started to grow rapidly as Albert entered his teens. Instead of reaching his ears, their whispers fell into mine.\n\n\"The boy is meant to be the next great Demon King\"\n\n\"Only he can unite the night under his power\"\n\n\"We have come to claim the child of the Sacred Star as our ruler\"\n\nThey insisted they would never stop until new Demon King to take the throne and stained the fields red with mortal blood. Therefore I decided to become the one to take the mantle.\n\nIndeed by the time he was 17, Albert knew almost everything I knew. He was now old enough to make wise decisions. I drilled into him what's right and wrong rather well if I say so myself. He was old enough to hunt by himself. It helped that beasts were attracted to him, it often meant many quick and easy hunts. He was completely ready to live without me.\n\nAnd in a few years he would be strong enough to kill me.\n\nI know that he can never forgive me for leaving him alone with nothing but a sword and an apology on his 17th birthday. I never expected him to. In fact I hoped he grew to hate me. To hate the man I would become. If he hated me then It would be easy in the end.\n\nYet 5 years later he stands before me with misted eyes. I see no hatred within him as he points my own blade at me. Only deep sadness and pity a Demon King like me doesn't deserve.\n\nIn our time apart I have done unspeakable things. I watered the fields with the blood of those I once swore to protect. I razed the Kingdom I once loved into ashes save for Lucia's grave. The demons delighted and praised my every action. The heads of the Oracle who cursed my son and her entire clan now decorate the ruins of the temple they once called home. Truly my cruelty and bloodshed surpassed anything they expected from the child of their Sacred Star.\n\n\"Why father?\", the tears now fall freely as his eyes meet mine.\n\n\"WHY?!?\", He shouts at me while hiding the sob in this throat.\n\nIt's because you lit up brighter than the sun at the idea of being a hero. It's because raising you was an achievement greater than anything a bard would write songs about. It's because I'd rather burn the world down to nothingness than live in one where it hates you. It's because I love you. It's because your mother loved you.\n\nYet these things must remain unspoken..\n\n“Because, my son, you wanted to be a hero, so I gave you a villain.” And I sigh with relief at the man before me.\n\nOnce he slays me he will live the life he deserves. All those that called him an omen or cursed no longer blight the land. When a stranger speaks of or hears his name there will only be praise and tunes.\n\n\"I love you Albert\"\n\nHe's no longer able to contain his cries as he prepares his blade. His heart may be in agony but he knows what he must do. The cold steel of the sword I once called my own pressing against my neck is proof.\n\n\"Please bury me next to her\" He nods as his sobs intensify. His blade draws back and for the first time in 5 years I truly smile.\n\nAh Lucia, I know that my soul can never rest alongside yours. But if at least my body can, it brings me comfort in the eternity of torment that awaits me." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Skilled enchanters are so rare that assassins are sent after them if they defect. After years of planning, you escape the capital city and run for the border- weeks of hard, dangerous travel away -hoping to start a new life." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "There was no way anyone could possibly see him. He had spent far too long perfecting his armor, for there to be a mistake now. From head to toe, he was covered in masterfully crafted garments, ones stitched and magicked in the dark of night. Ones that used to be scraps, but had been reborn into the perfect attire of an escapee.\n\nOver his head and shoulders, a cowl-hooded cloak, interwoven with a mirrored thread. No uneven threads or snags would disrupt the perfect reflection of light. Not enough to be noticeable, but just enough to obscure his face from anyone looking for him.\n\nThe shoes were the crowning glory. The soles had been beaten into a silent bind, and coated to be as smooth as the still water of Grestio Lake. Scott’s footsteps wouldn’t make sound on the concrete of the city as he snuck past the walls, and wouldn’t leave a footprint once he reached the dirt paths of the surrounding forest.\n\nTucked against his back, bound tightly by several straps, was a pack, complete with another set of clothes that would protect him from the dangers of the road ahead. Once he left, undetected, there would be more vicious threats ahead.\n\nSince he had shown an aptitude for enchanting in school, he had been taken in by a master in the city of Grestio. Scott rose quickly through the ranks, and soon enough had worked up enough of a clientele to do his own business. Unfortunately, enchanting was not a business that could be left to flourish on its own in the free market. Magical goods had to be carefully regulated, and rules carefully guarded the enchantments allowed to be sold.\n\nHad Scott been truly interested in making a fortune, he could have sold any number of illegal products in the Grestio underground, but that would have been a surefire way to come face to face with an assassin. He was confident that there were already two following him, sent by the guild, to make sure he was following the laws, and not trying to cheat a few extra dollars for himself.\n\nThose two assassins were just who he had dressed up so nicely for this fine evening.\n\nOnce night had fallen, and the shops had closed for the day, Scott slipped out of his apartment. The only business happening now was the illicit kind that he specifically avoided. With any luck, one of his tailers would be called off his back for the evening to chase a more prominent rulebreaker.\n\nGrestio City was surrounded by a very tall and thick wall. The gates were open during the day, for almost anyone to come in, like some sort of sick amusement park. To some extent, it made sense. Magical arts constituted one of the most profitable and dangerous industries in the world. Keeping it all confined to one location was the government’s best bet at any resemblance of control.\n\nAt night the gates were sealed, and the only way out was over or through. Over was out of the question for Scott. He was an enchanter, and really only performance magicians could have a hope of making it over the wall. It was littered with sensors, tripwires, and all sorts of other dangerous things that Scott was ill-prepared to handle.\n\nThrough was more his style. Of course, there would be guards a plenty, but it would require little to no physical skill, unless of course he would be caught. But do not fret, Scott had a contingency plan.\n\nGetting through the first door was simple enough. Loitering wasn’t a crime in Grestio, especially when you were near invisible, and Scott simply followed a guard in at the next shift change. Once he was navigating through the actual halls of the wall’s interior, things got a little more complicated.\n\nScott broke away from his ticket inside as soon as possible, and began winding through the hallways, near at random, looking for a door that would let out into the forest. From his pack, Scott produced a small silver bar, an item that would fetch a very pretty price on the black market, and would put a pretty high price on his own head.\n\nMaster Keys were expressly prohibited in the oldest of enchanting regulations, which was kind of ridiculous in Scott’s opinion just because of how difficult they were to make. It had taken himself four attempts, and a call to the fire department just to get his right.\n\nWith any door unlocked at his own whim, Scott’s main task was finding his way out of the wall, with his presence unknown." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: A near-death experience is just that, an experience where you are near Death himself. In a coma following a car accident, you see Death staring right at you. \"I can't take your soul right away so you've got a choice. Take over for me for the weekend and you'll wake up. Refuse and you die." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Somebody, he couldn't remember who, told him that death was a concept unique to humanity. People are aware of time passing and know that, eventually, their time will run out. Dogs, on the other hand, don't have that awareness. It made sense at the time but laying on his hospital bed, locked in his body with nothing but the cold stare of death to keep him company changed his views a bit.\n\nPeople came and went but they weren't real. Their touches were insubstantial and their words were echoes of an echo spoken far off. Death was real though. He couldn't see it, he couldn't open his eyes to look at it and for that, he did feel a faint relief. It was there, though, and it was looking at him. He drifted in and out of consciousness, dimly aware that time was passing, but Death never left.\n\nAfter a cold eternity in his prison, he heard its voice. He didn't know what he expected but it was warm and rich, deep in a way that surprised him. \"You're going to survive,\" it said, \"You won't wake though. Too much damage. Your doctors don't have the tools needed to fix what's broken.\"\n\nSilence came again and he felt Death moving around the room. He couldn't focus on it though, as its words sank in. This wasn't a life. This was a halfway point to hell. Unable to move or talk to the people that came to him. Unable to feel their hands or hear their voices. He couldn't even respond to Death, his words caught in his throat as his body failed to respond to him.\n\n\"You have a choice now,\" Death said, now closer to him, \"You can die. Unfortunate, to be sure, but a better alternative to this.\" A hand of ice settled over his. It was soft, un-calloused, and far more human than he expected. \"Alternatively, you can do me a favor. In return for your time, I'll grant you what remains of yours. Fix what is broken and allow you to wake.\"\n\nHope sprung up in his chest. Death was better than this, he'd decided that right way as Death made the offer.\n\nLife though, even a chance at it, was worth whatever was required of him. He'd give everything he had and more to be able to breathe with his lungs or even flex his fingers.\n\n\"Good,\" Death said, its hand moving from his hand to his chest. The icy cold lingered on his hand and sunk through the thin gown the hospital had put on him freezing him to his core. \"Very good. Three days you'll act as my hand. Your choices will be mine, your will an extension of my own.\"\n\nIts hands sunk into his chest suddenly, dipping past the skin before it ripped up. The world shifted then and he found himself in control again, his limbs responding to his commands and his eyes shooting open. The first thing he saw was himself, lying in the hospital bed, tubes shoved down his throat and needles in his arm. It was a poor sight, as he noted the mesh that covered a part of his head and the cuts that littered his face and neck.\n\nHe felt Death move again, and whipped about, finding it just behind him. His heart hammered down, its beat trying to find a steady rhythm as he found Death to be another man. Dark skin and a shaved head, a nice black cardigan over a white shirt, and dark slacks. He looked older, well into his fifties.\n\nDeath offered a hand, and he noted the ring on his middle finger. The metal seemed to streak as the light caught in and the sight of it drew him in, \"We have a deal?\"\n\nHe broke away from the ring at that, looking at the personification of Death again at the question. Of course, yes. He wanted to live. He reached out with more confidence than he felt and took Death's hand, \"Yes. We have a deal.\"\n\nDeath smiled, \"Good.\" He brought his other hand up, clapping it over their hands and he felt something heavy settle in his chest. \"For the next three days you, Adam Bàs, will act as Death.\" His words were heavy and they carried with them a finality that accompanied the force that spread from his chest.\n\nSuddenly he felt a pull from inside himself. He tried to ignore it, waving it off as one of the many things he couldn't hope to understand about this situation. Instead, he asked the most pressing question on his mind, \"What do you want me to do?\"\n\n\"That feeling, deep inside you,\" Death said, releasing his hand then. Adam noticed the ring that was now on his middle finger but focused on what Death was saying instead of interrupting to ask more questions, \"Like you're caught on a fishing line. Follow it and do the job they ask of you.\"\n\nAdam furrowed his brow at that and quickly put the pieces together in his head, \"You're being summoned?\"\n\nDeath shook his head, \"No,\" he reached up and poked Adam in the chest, and the feeling of being pulled doubled, \"You are.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Typically, superpowers map out to the superhuman's personality. Fire projectors tend to be hotheaded, inventors tend to be smart... So how about superhumans who are discordant with the nature of their powers? Idiot inventors, brilliant brutes, cold-hearted souls with a flame that engulfs all..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "when Larry was born his mother screeched and passed out.\n\non his first day of school the children ran, crying, to hide behind their teachers.\n\nby the end of his first year of school everyone knew he was also slow. not physically, as he was big, strong and could run the bases in kickball faster than anyone (that is, when his kick didn't puncture the ball).\n\nno, he was just not very bright. you would hope that being born looking the way he was that the universe might have gifted him with unusual intellect. alas, the hope is futile. the poor lad was as dumb as he was ugly. the only good thing he had going for him was a sweet and gentle nature. if some other kid wanted help climbing a tree, or couldn't lift something; Larry was right there with his frightening smile, a helping hand and what seemed to be his only word, \"okay\".\n\neven though the children came to view him with affection, akin to a class mascot like a hamster, the teachers and parents insisted he be sent to a special school. his guardian (appointed by the state after his mother killed herself) fought, but the judge saw Larry eating his lunch in the cafeteria and decided it was best for everyone if such a large and dangerous child receive extra care.\n\nbecause of the vagaries of bureaucracy and the lack of proper supervision, Larry got lost.\n\nwhen he just didn't come in one day after play time, no-one cared. only the most trivial of searches was made. everyone washed their hands and secretly was glad the monster was gone.\n\nbut he wasn't. he was just playing hide and seek. to him, the darkness and sodden concrete of the sewers were comforting. so he kept going deeper. this might have turned into an urban myth of the lizard boy in the sewers had he stayed hidden and alone.\n\nbut his luck was good that day.\n\nhe took the right turn at the right time and crossed paths with the most important man in the under city. pippin was a freak as well. tiny, the size of a baby, but with a huge head. he was the leader of a small conclave of rejects and deformed individuals who had managed to carve a life under the city. these individuals were frightening to behold, but powerful. pippin could generate force fields with his mind that could paralyze, hold up structures, or even kill.\n\nLarry was at home and happy.\n\nby the age of nine, he was beloved of the under city. tall, strong and always helpful the young giant scraped even the highest sewers at ten feet tall. his scales allowed him to handle any environment they could find, and his claws were superb when it came time to excavate new chambers. that makes it no surprise that he wasn't expected to do any complex work.\n\nbut, the people in the dark rejoiced one day. they were having trouble connecting to the upper city power grid. their equipment just couldn't handle the load. Larry was helping dig trenches for power cables when he overheard a friend curse and splutter about needing a miracle to make their antiquated and jury rigged gear work. Larry looked up, smiled his fang filled smile and said \"okay\".\n\nhe dug around in the boxes of discarded equipment, made some hissing chuckles and got to work. twenty minutes later he had built a transformer capable of handling the power load. after another ten, he had voltage amplifiers and circuitry to prevent surges and spikes in the power.\n\nhe went back to digging. but not for long.\n\npippin sent up his best scavengers. they came back with broken computers, discarded radios and every other technological toy they could scrounge. Larry was like a pig in slops. yes, he was happy, but more because he wss rolling around, sniffing and hissing with curiosity and glee. into functional\n\nit turns out Larry's power wasn't in his body, and it certainly wasn't his mind. Larry had a gift for electricity and technology. he could pull together the most broken and corroded of scraps artifacts of increasingly complex nature. he once turned a speak and spell into a quantum computer while half asleep.\n\nunfortunately, nobody could replicate his work. even with identical parts, working right beside him, other people's creations didn't function. it was Larry that breathed use into the discarded.\n\n( gotta break here, will finish in a bit)" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You invent a device that allows you to look into alternate universes. However, in every single one you check, humans don't exist." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was walking to work when a small, black triangle had fallen from the sky. I thought this was a bit out of the ordinary. Puzzled, I picked it up from its resting place on the damp ground. The triangle was smooth but shiny, like the screen of my smartphone. When I touched it, it began to glow. I turned the triangle over, trying to fathom out if it had buttons or something, when it suddenly vibrated and fell to the ground once more. Then, with a strange whooshing sound, a sort of hologram appeared.\n\nAt first I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing. It seemed to be a large, grassy plain, but it had randomly popped up in the middle of the street. I took a step towards it, and it seemed to expand. Reaching out my hand, I could feel the warmth of sunlight on my skin. Soon, almost without meaning to, I found myself stepping through.\n\nThe plain was beautiful, and larger than it had seemed before. It was a welcome break from the dreary concrete streets of home. The grass tickled my knees as I walked and there was a pleasant smell in the air. On the horizon, there was a large animal of some kind. It looked like a giraffe, but I'd left my glasses at home so I couldn't really tell. The thing that stood out to me was the plain was completely untouched. There were no trodden paths or buildings of any sort. I figured the triangle had dropped me somewhere deep in the heart of Africa, though it was strange that such a lush land had not been settled. I walked forward and continued to ponder, when there was an almighty screech from the sky. I looked up and saw a huge creature soaring towards me. It looked like a jet black pterodactyl. Panicked, I looked back to where I entered, only to find nothing there. Suddenly, I felt a deep weight in my hand. Uncurling my fingers, I saw the triangle there. I squeezed it, and disappeared.\n\nI was now standing somewhere yellow. The sky, the ground, the creatures were all the colour of custard. The creatures. They were bright yellow, slimy and round, and they bounced towards me. I thought they were cute. One bravely jumped up onto my arm.\n\n\"Hello,\" I cooed.\n\nSuddenly, a foul acid leaked into my skin. I screamed, and pressed the triangle, hoping the little yellow ball didn't hitch a ride with me.\n\nThe next thing I knew I was standing on what looked like a city street. The only difference was all the buildings were made of sand, like termite mounds. I never liked bugs. I didn't stick around.\n\nAs I hurtled through some kind of spacescape, I realised the triangle hadn't taken me to anywhere with other people. I was a little upset about this. I quite liked people, most of the time. I realised then I didn't know how to get back to my city. To my planet. I pressed the triangle again. It took me somewhere sulfurous and smoky. Growing more and more frantic, I kept pressing. I stuck around a few places that resembled Earth, but didn't linger when I floated upside down or when everything was one colour. Then I pressed the triangle, and I skipped on.\n\nThat was who knows how long ago. Eons, maybe. All the while, I've been skipping, desperately hoping to find just one other human being. I've found other sapient races, ones which I can't even describe, but there's always a language barrier there. Especially with the ones which communicated through a series of lights. Or the big, furry ones which tried to eat me as soon as I appeared. I've seen planets from afar, I've seen stars being born and dying, I've seen an all-encompassing dark and felt unimaginable terror. Still, no humans. I long for the lucky skip, the right jump into the right universe. I've all but given up hope.\n\nI've decided this shall be my last skip. I will find a way to die in the next universe, if it's not home. I squeeze the triangle tightly like the hand of a lover, and I disappear.\n\nI open my eyes. I'm lying on my side on the damp ground. My hand is open and the triangle is nowhere to be seen. Above me, a man looms.\n\n\"Are you okay?\" he asks, \"You've been lying there out cold for ten minutes.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: A man dies and ends up in hell. But when he arrives he finds his father leading a war against Satan...and he's winning." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I remember being shot. I was getting into my car after work when a man ran up to me. I couldn't see his face, but I could see the gun in his hand. I remember thinking, \"hmm, he's a lefty\" not fully comprehending my situation at the time. \"Gimme your keys and wallet now,\" screamed lefty. \"Calm down buddy, no reason to do anything drastic,\" I plead with him. I can hear sirens coming closer and decide to try and stall him. Apparently, he didn't have time for that. I can remember the thudding in my chest as the bullets hit, one, two, three. I can almost remember hearing the car scream away from me, or maybe that was me. Either way, the next thing I can remember is falling. It seemed like an eternity, and at the same time, no time at all.\n\nNow, I'm standing on a rocky plateau. Pits of fire around me, and flames licking at my legs like a puppy from my childhood. The smell of rotten eggs was everywhere, almost suffocating me. I realized where I was immediately but I was so confused. Why was I here? I like to think I was a nice person. I never hurt anyone. I sat in self pity for years, or seconds almost in tears. Suddenly, I hear an increase in the screaming around me. What was once the screams of pain and sorrow, now became screams of pain and terror. I searched for the source of the screaming and found it over the edge of hell's plateau.\n\nCountless demons from horizon to horizon stretched before me. In all shapes and sizes. Creepy little imps with tridents, mammoth creatures wielding spears, and almost human like things with wings and horns holding swords made of bone and fire.\n\nStanding opposite them, was another army altogether. Even more massive than the first. An army of humans arrayed against the army of hell. There were so many of them. It must be everyone who has ever lived and died down here. I start to make my way down the plateau, heading for the humans. I have no concept of time here, so it takes no time at all before I'm at the lines of humans.\n\nAs I approach, the first people to see me welcome me as an old friend. I don't recognize any of them, but in hell you can't deny friendliness. As I get deeper in the lines, a man approaches me. \"Come with me,\" he says in a deep voice, \"we've been expecting you.\" With nothing else to do I follow this man. I notice he's wearing old leather armor, looks like pictures I'd seen of Roman soldiers. He takes me to a tent in the center of the army. It looks like it's made of some strange leather, but I don't have time to inspect it before he leads me inside. Inside the tent, there's a man, leaning over a giant table.\n\n\"General,\" the Roman says with awe, \"he has arrived.\" \"Finally,\" sighs the man at the table, \"finally we can end this damn war!\" He turns around, with a giant smile on his face. There, in the middle of a human army, in the very depths of hell stands my father, the leader of the forces of men." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 600-700 words. Prompt: There's two possibilities in life: you're either immortal, or you die before you can turn 18. You already know you're immortal, but you're worried about your 17 years old sister as her birthday is coming soon." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "My little sister was born at midnight on the 4th of December 4300 p.c. Today is the 4th of December 4318 and Rosie will turn 18 in ten minutes. On one side of the room, a tray of chocolates is laid out next to several bottles of champagne. We put out little party hats and streamers, and bundles of balloons. I'm sure she would have rolled her eyes and called it babyish if she wasn't so terrified.\n\nOn the other side of the room there's an open casket. The measurements are a perfect fit for Rosie and the night black wood is of the highest quality. Mother even insisted on having her lie down in it, just to make sure it suited her as well as possible. She hadn't cared that it had scared her own daughter. All that had mattered to her was ensuring we looked richer than we were.\n\n\"Can I sit down?\" Rosie's voice trembled, \"I don't feel well.\"\n\nMy throat clenched. The clock struck and the blood drained from my sister's face. Our parents turned their backs with a sigh.\n\n\"I told you it was worth buying the casket.\"\n\n\"Well, maybe we'll get lucky with the next one,\" father shrugged, \"I'd love to have a daughter.\"\n\nThe crashing of the midnight bells rattled the window panes. Rosie took a half step forward.\n\n\"Mom? Dad?\"\n\nShe fell to the floor, lying there alone in a trembling heap. The family moved to the funeral side of the room. Everyone fixed a politely solemn look on their faces. It was both custom and courtesy.\n\nThere was no sense in getting attached to a child under eighteen, everyone knew that. Most of my friends hadn't even been named or held until they reached that age. But nothing could stop some parents from loving their children and mourning them, so being too cheerful would have been rude.\n\nMy father stubbornly blinked back tears while my mother's laughter became increasingly strained as she did everything she could to distance herself from the loss of her daughter.\n\nAnd meanwhile Rosie lay on the floor alone. I stepped away from her, following the rest of the family to the casket. Somebody needed to get a stretcher. And some cyanide pills. Getting through the night without something a little stronger than alcohol wasn't on the cards for me or her friends who'd survived their eighteenth birthdays a few months ago.\n\nThen I stopped and turned back. Rosie was dying in the middle of a room filled with the people she loved most and nobody so much as looked at her. She cried for help, called our names, and we didn't come to her side.\n\nBefore I knew what I was doing, I'd run back to the middle of the room and picked her up. I held her in my arms like I had when she was little. I stroked her hair and whispered that everything would be alright like a stupid liar. She wouldn't be alright. I was just making this harder for myself.\n\nThe bells stopped ringing. The minutes passed and she just kept on breathing.\n\n\"Aren't you going to get a stretcher?\" her friend said, \"it's kind of a downer to have her just lying there.\"\n\n\"She's alive,\" I blurted. \"And it's midnight, so she'll stay alive. Rosie's made it. She's immortal!\"\n\nThe girl didn't move, but her frightened pulse thundered under my fingers.\n\n...…….....…....…............…....…........…...................…..............\n\nIt's been another eighteen years since that day, and things still haven't gone back to normal\n\nRosie had never been dying. She'd panicked, and eventually she'd fainted. We'd celebrated her all night and even offered to throw her another party the next day since she'd missed most of her coming of age. That hadn't stopped her from moving out and cutting off contact with everyone but me.\n\nEvery time I visit her, I offer to ask her to come home. Even if it's only for a quick visit. But Father always tells me to give her the space she needs. She'll eventually get past what happened that night, now that she has all the time in the world." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Baba Yaga, the witch of the Iron Forest. Feared by all, a monster of legendary proportions. The question is... where did she come from?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Long, long ago, during the time of legends and myths; deep in the land of Old Rus, there lived a poor woodcutter and his wife. They lived a simple life on the outskirts of a village so small and so far away from the rest of civilization, that it didn't even have a name.\n\nEvery day, the woodcutter would go out with his work horse and sled and every evening he would come back with firewood and lumber to sell and trade. Every day, the woodcutter's wife would tend to the animals on their small farmstead and then go out to pick wild berries and mushrooms.\n\nAnd every night, they tried for a child; but always in vain.\n\nOne month, the woodcutter and his wife decided to pray for a child. First they prayed to the new Christian god. But the Christian god was a god of forgiveness, and neither the woodcutter nor his wife had committed any great sins. The next month, they prayed to the old gods of the snow and steppes. But those were warrior gods and neither the woodcutter nor his wife had any aspiration to conquer or battle. The third month, they prayed to the all the gods and goddesses of distant lands; even the ones that they had only heard of in stories and tall tales. But those deities were all far away and had far more important things to do than bless a woodcutter and his wife. The fourth month, the couple prayed to the great forest which provided them food and income and all the spirits who made it their home. They prayed to the clever fox, the fearsome wolf, the all-seeing owl, the agile rabbit, and to the formidable bear. They prayed to the spirits of the trees and the tricky fairies who dealt in luck, both good and bad.\n\nBut as the fourth month passed without merit, the woodcutter's wife had her fill of constant prayer. The next to the last day, she stood up and shouted to the sky, \"This month, we prayed to the forest spirits for a child! There is only a day left, but if you fail to hear our pleas, then I swear on the sky and the earth that next month, we shall pray to the Chernobog for a child!\"\n\nThat night, there was a mighty storm which was as sudden as it was fierce. Lightning struck many trees and the entire forest would have burnt down if it hadn't been for the rain. The few foolish people who looked outside would later swear it rained so much that the water even caused a star to fall from the sky. But those same people would also swear that they could see eyes staring at them from the tree line; the eyes of a fox, a wolf, an owl, a rabbit, and a bear.\n\nThe next morning, the woodcutter was woken up by a shout of glee. His wife was finally with child.\n\nFor a time, the couple was happy. But as all things must pass, so did their happiness. For you see, the Chernobog was angry. It had been a very, very long time since anyone offered the devil any prayers. If the forest spirits would have waited one more day, he would have had a month of prayers from a good and honest couple.\n\nIn his anger and madness, the Chernobog cursed the couple's child. The woodcutter and his wife wanted a child that was good and kind, but instead the Chernobog declared that this child would be vicious and cruel. They would be invulnerable to sword and arrow, would wield hellfire and pain like a whip and club, and would lead vast armies that would burn and pillage across everything they came across.\n\nBut the forest spirits heard the Chernobog's mad ravings and twisted the devils' own curse. Instead of being good and kind or cruel and vicious, the child would have to make a choice each day what kind of person they wanted to be. Instead of having dominion over hellfire and pain, the child would still have power and magic, but it would be over what they chose. And instead of being a natural leader of villains and vile men, the child would be a girl.\n\nAnd so the child was born and was named 'Yaga'. Growing up, she was a very peculiar child. None of the other village children would play with her and many of the adults would swear there was something otherworldly about her. But little Yaga was perfectly fine with being alone.\n\nMost days, she was a polite if quiet girl. But some days, she frightened her parents. One pleasant day, they returned to find a grinning Yaga covered in chicken's blood. She had taken an axe and chopped the legs off of every chicken and rooster the family had, claiming that they were much easier to catch now. When her mother berated her, asking how were the chicken's supposed to find food or escape a fox, little Yaga attached all the severed chicken legs to the chicken coop. The entire building full of pained and suffering chickens started to run around like a wooden centipede.\n\nThe woodcutter went out with his axe and quickly put a stop to it. Unfortunately, he was not quick enough. A neighbor's child saw this and told his parents. Those parents told the other villagers, and soon they were all storming up to the woodcutter's hut, crying out against witches and gesturing wildly with flaming torches.\n\nThe poor woodcutter and his wife knew what they had to do. They quickly gather their daughter in a hug and told her to seek shelter in the woods. The forest spirits should protect her as they were the ones who had granted her life. From her mother, little Yaga got a small mortar and pestle which she had previously enjoyed using to crush herbs, a small comb for her long raven-colored hair, and a needle and thread so she could repair her clothes. From the woodcutter, she received a small silver mirror so she could see her face and remember where she came from.\n\nWhen the people from the village arrived, little Yaga was already deep in the woods.\n\nThere are stories of how she managed to refine her magic, how she created her hut that ran on giant chicken feet, how she enlarged her mortar and pestle so she could sit inside and actually fly, and how she even managed to hide her soul inside a simple needle.\n\nThere are tales that her beauty became so great that even Chernobog was smitten with her, and how she hid her true looks under the illusion of an old twisted crone.\n\nThere are tales where she is kind and helpful to passing travelers and noble men on noble quests. But there are also tales of her being worse than the cruelest ogre.\n\nBut that all depends on how she felt in the morning of that day." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You live a life as a conman, scamming people out of their hard-earned money. One day the devil comes to town to cause chaos and it turns out he's not that great at it. You see this as an interesting opportunity." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It's funny, people always say it like it's a dirty word. \"Hustlin'\", or if they're real up-tight they say it all like, \"Hustle-ling\". And then usually there's a scoff or some one-off joke about us-- how we're bottom feeders or whatever they wanna say.\n\nBut I never get mad about it. No true hustler would get angry at hearing that talk. For me, all I hear are opportunities. Somebody don't like hustlin'? Well neither do I, then, and we're gonna put our heads together and find a way to get those damn hustlers outta this town. And I'll spearhead it-- I'm an upstanding guy-- I'll get everything together, some councilmen, neighborhood HOA, I'll do it all. And even though it's Thursday, I'll get it done by Friday afternoon, and I know you can't make it, you just told me your little girl has a recital and that's fine. I'm happy for you. You don't have to be there, just sign up, make a little pledge and I'll show everyone there that you and I started this together. Just a little pledge, barely anything, but I'll hold it up and show everybody and they'll know what you pledged to this cause.\n\nThat's how you do it, son. Friday afternoon comes and goes and well, that meeting, that initiative, that research I was doing was all fine and dandy, but it didn't pan out.\n\nAnd so you can imagine my surprise when a man comes into town who I know well, if only be reputation. Among us hustlers we call him The King, but he goes by many names. It's true what they say, by the way-- even if you never seen a picture of him, you know him when you see him, at least if you're a hustler too.\n\nAnd I knew him right away. He looked good-- sharp dressed, slender. Long fingers and a thin little mustache. He came into town and I sat back-- no honor among thieves, they say, but I'll tell you now that's a damn lie-- I wasn't gonna get in on something he wanted a part of. He's The King, after all, and you gotta show respect to your elders.\n\nAnd I waited for quite some time. Occasionally I'd poke my head in and out, see what's goin' on, talk to townsfolk. He was the talk of the town-- any newbie was, really, but especially such a \"handsome young man\", as they say.\n\nBut as time went on, I got a little worried. Pretty much the only thing people talked about was how nice and handsome he was. The men smirked when they overheard the women say it. I leaned in to a local deputy once at lunch, a deputy I saw smirkin' like that, and asked him what the fuss was about.\n\n\"Kid's dumb as bricks,\" he said back with a lighthearted laugh, \"Been tryin' to scheme us outta money, but he doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground.\"\n\nTaken aback would be an understatement to how I felt. I sat back another few days, hopin' it was part of some master plan. This time I kept my eyes wide open, though-- and it was true. The King was an idiot at hustlin'. He was clumsy, nervous, and he hardly ever got more than a few cents, and even then out of pity.\n\nWell, I'd love to tell you that I tracked him down, but I didn't. He found me, as a matter of fact. Came right up to me one day when I was at the saloon.\n\n\"Sir,\" he began, \"I received this bag from a friend. He told me the contents were of inordinate value, but he passed soon thereafter. Being a man of clear conscience, I cannot open it, but I'd be happy to sell it to you for the right price.\"\n\nBoy, when i heard that I knew he was in for a lickin'.\n\n\"Handsome young man, you are,\" I said back, \"That sounds like a deal too good to be true. And I know for certain what's in that bag already-- I've seen it before.\"\n\nThe King looked a bit surprised, but before he could talk I cut him off.\n\n\"Oh yes, that bag has gold coins in it, from the bank just across the way. I know it for certain. If you'll just let me peak inside and see if they're all still there, I'll give you a heap of money for it.\"\n\nI reached eagerly for the bag, and The King, not having his wits about him, jerked it back.\n\n\"Oh no, you cannot look inside,\" he said back flustered.\n\n\"Well, then at least do me the honor of checking the bank across the way. The coins used to be right behind the teller's window. Ask him for all the gold coins back there, and if he says they're out, I'll buy your bag.\"\n\nThe King-- such a stupid name in retrospect-- gave it a moment of thought before agreeing.\n\nHe strode over there across the way, and I made my way around the back of the building. Now gold coins of course there were none, but I knew if he rode into that bank asking for all the gold they'd think he was playing a stick up on them, and that's all the time I needed.\n\nAs soon as I heard the scuffle start I kicked open the back door of that building and grabbed as many bars of that sweet, sweet gold I could. The King managed to put up quite a struggle-- god bless him-- and I tore outta that town with nine whole bars. Enough gold that I haven't had to work a day since.\n\nAnd The King, well, they did lock him up, but little good it did. The officials said he escaped, but knowing him he just got tired and poofed his way outta this world. He may have been great back in the old country, but this here is a different time, and when you stop treadin' water in this world you drown. Every hustler knows that, well-- every hustler except one, apparently." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: As opposed to getting rid of the creepy dolls in the attic, you decide to clean them and fix them up. This made the little ghost girl very happy." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The two dolls were delicate porcelain creatures, both with pale, cracked faces — but where one missed an old green eye, the other missed an arm. They barely had a tuft of hair between them, just a few wiry curls left, once brown but now white. Hair that had aged as if it were real. Their clothes were rotten and their skin patched by decades of rain dribbling in through cracks in the attic roof. Dripped for so long that it had corroded their fragile bodies and punctured holes into their hollows.\n\nTommy stared at them now, at the two dolls, as he’d done many times before. Always too scared to touch, so he just stared. Not that he was even allowed up in the old attic, where rats skittered behind beams, and where cobweb hammocks sagged and swayed in a cold draft.\n\nMommy and Daddy had told him never to go into the attic alone. That it was unsafe. But they weren’t always there to watch him, and in those silent moments he’d sneak up and stare at the belongings of the two sisters, dead decades ago.\n\nIt had been a fire. Extinguished before it had consumed the house entirely, but not before it had devoured the children. A terrible accident that had led to this day, to Tommy staring entranced at the dolls.\n\nThe wind cried through the rafters, and rain drip drip dripped onto the doll with the missing arm. Tommy thought of the girls they had once belonged to. Not all the damage to the dolls was through weathering. Much was through love, through hugging and tea parties and naps together. Bathing together. He just knew the dolls and the girls had been inseparable once-upon-a-happier-time.\n\nThat made his little heart all the more sad, that the dolls and girls were both so far apart now.\n\nHe hadn’t had the courage before. Not ever. Or perhaps he had been building it up for this day. Saving little cups of courage for one big gulp.\n\nTommy stepped over the dolls, sheltering them from the rain. Gulp. He stooped and picked them up. Cradled them carefully as he moved them to a dry spot the other end of the attic.\n\nHe ripped up tartan fabric he found folded in an old leather trunk, and swapped the mouldy clothing on the dolls to something still old but at least clean. Their new hair came from a rocking-horse’s mane, thick and unruly, but plentiful. The new eye, a marble. The best he could do for a new arm was the leg of an ancient teddy-bear soldier — he tore it free and pushed it in the empty socket.\n\nThen, for the first time in a long time, the dolls left the house.\n\nThe graveyard was muddy, and willows shook above the tombstones as the wind roared. Mist rolled by in spiralled plumes.\n\nTommy had only ever been so scared once before.\n\nTheir gravestones were moss covered and dirty, and Tommy wiped his sleeves over the names to make sure.\n\nWhen certain, he laid the dolls on top of each patch of grass, sad to make their new dresses muddy.\n\nThey looked forlorn on the ground. The marble eye glinting sadly in the moonlight. The soft leg-arm limply hanging.\n\n“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was all I could do.”\n\nA cold hand touched his shoulder.\n\n“It was your best,“ said a soft voice. Sarah’s voice.\n\n“And that was always good enough,” said Catherine.\n\nThe sisters stood behind him, smiling. The moonlight travelled through them to the muddy grass.\n\nSarah held something in her hands, but Tommy couldn’t make it out.\n\nCatherine bent down and took her doll. She pulled the leg out of the socket, so the doll once more had only one arm.\n\nSarah took the leg from her sister. She pushed it into the object she held, then passed an old, beloved soldier bear to Tommy.\n\n”I’m scared,” he said.\n\n”We know. But it’s finally time for us all to go,” said Sarah. “And at least we leave together.”\n\n”I’m sorry it took me so long,” said Tommy. “I wanted to come so much sooner. But I was so, so scared.”\n\n”We would have waited for you forever, if that’s what it took,“ said Catherine, kindly, as she placed an arm around her little brother.\n\nTommy hugged his bear tightly to his chest as they stepped into the mist." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: It turns out, when you die you’re either allowed into heaven or reincarnated and sent back to earth to try again with no memory of your past lives. Most souls get it in a handful of attempts. You, however, are on your 578th attempt, making you the oldest soul in existence." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Everyone has a decent idea of what happens when you die. Sure, there are religions out there into completely different ideas, but reincarnation is one of the major beliefs in the world. I don't really devote my attention to worldly beliefs and all that. Whether I was reincarnated or not, I'm just living the life I ought to live.\n\nMy mother died when I was young, but she told me to always be kind to others. So I tried. Didn't work out too well. People in this world are absolutely insane. They don't deserve the kindness I have to offer.\n\nAs of right now, I work in an animal shelter. Specifically a cat shelter. They rescue cats and kittens and socialize them enough for them to be adopted into good homes. One of the cats is really old. He sits by the window. Watches people go by. Occasionally gets up to use the bathroom or eat. That's about it. I sit with him sometimes. We people-watch together.\n\nOn some days he just stares at me, and as if he was human, sighs and looks back out the window. He's 21. Nine years younger than me. Yet he seems a lot wiser than I am. I spend most of my time with him. After doing my job I stay overtime. No need to go home. There's no one to go to. I don't plan on having anyone to go to.\n\nI do not enjoy people. Nearly everyone I have met have been rude in someway. Eventually I gave up. This world has gone to shit. We started out with war, years and years ago. We will end in war, most likely sooner than later.\n\nThe day is April 13th, 2020. The wise cat has gotten sick. Sicker than he was. The vet said he had only weeks left. We could have put him down, I convinced them otherwise. Today seemed like his last day on this earth. His breathing was raspy. This time he laid on my lap. Curled up. He's been staring at me for a while. As if to tell me something.\n\nOutside was raining. A storm was nearing. Some hurricane or something. I couldn't care less. The streets were flooded with water 2 inches high. It was only getting worse. No one was outside really. There weren't any houses nearby. No cars. Just the road and some trees on the other side.\n\nStill, there was something moving in the trees. At first I thought it was some poor animal, struggling to stay warm. Through the leaves I saw someone hiding. A boy. Looked around 16 or 17 years old. He didn't have much clothes on. Just a white t-shirt and some shorts. What the hell was he doing?\n\nThe cat on my lap raised his paw up. He placed it on the glass window. He looked up at me once again, before taking one of his last breaths. His eyes closed. His chest stopped moving. He was gone. I picked him up gently, placed him on a higher place, facing the window. I'd get back to tell the other workers soon enough.\n\nI opened the door, keeping some of the other cats inside. They ran back in when they felt the pouring rain hit the floor. I went outside. Hands over my head in attempt to shield myself. I crossed the street. Went closer to the boy. He seemed to be crying and shaking. I knelt down and looked at him.\n\n\"Come inside.\" I said, pointing to the animal shelter. He nodded and followed me back inside. The passed cat had been taken away. Someone probably covered him up. One of the other cats had climbed up to look out the window. She sniffed the area, and as if she already knew, she let a soft, sad meow. The boy behind me sat down on the floor, one of the kittens had sat on his lap.\n\n\"That's Limelight. He was found in the rain left outside with his brothers by someone who didn't want them anymore.\"\n\nThe boy nodded. He mumbled something. Then said it louder.\n\n\"Thanks. Seems like we have a bit in common.\" He wiped off some of the water. Started to pet Limelight. I could hear the kitten purring, slightly high pitched.\n\nWe sat there. Not saying a word. Just resting with the felines roaming around. I thought about what the wise cat had done before he passed. It was as if he wanted me to go help the boy. Perhaps he did want that. This human hasn't done anything bad yet. Maybe I met one of the rare ones. We'll see." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: When you get to Heaven, you find that there are strict rules for communicating with the living. You're allowed to make them believe you're with them in spirit, but not allowed to do anything that would give them definitive proof. However, you've found a loophole, and God isn't happy about it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“If I’m going to be honest, I don’t know how I got to heaven. Looking back on my life, I really do belong down below, but hey, I’m not arguing. Apparently, there was an argument, a slight uprising in heaven from people who’ve ascended but were less than happy about their family members not making it with them. So, the big guy made a change to restrictions. Well, more like made less of them.\n\n“Not too long later, with more people in heaven, they did another slight uprising, arguing about how they missed their families and wanted to spend more time with them and what not. So, the big one made another rule which is pretty long and complicated but shortens down to; you can see your family on earth again but cannot make it known that you are actually there (i.e. you’re there “in spirit”). Of course, boss man decided that if there was any more little uprisings, everyone was going to start having a bad time.\n\n“When I first heard this story, I thought that this isn’t very useful as I didn’t really feel much of a need to see my family again but I thought to myself, ‘Why not? What’s the worst thing that could happen?’\n\n“As I descended back to earth on the stairway to heaven, the first thing I thought was, ‘Why was there no elevator?’ The second was, ‘How badly can I mess with my brother? I mean, he does owe me money.’ Now, what use would I have for money in heaven? None, whatsoever. It’s the principle.\n\n“I got to my brother’s house and knocked on the door, and waited for him to answer. He didn’t. I checked my watch, and realized I didn’t own a watch. Nor did I need to knock. I’m a spirit, right? Might as well just… break in? Is it breaking and entering if I don’t technically break anything? Either way, I get inside. I start stacking chairs and whatnot, making him think I’m a poltergeist that’s come back to haunt him. Nothing serious, mind you. He’s into that creepy pasta stuff so I figured I’d mess with him a little, right?\n\n“Well, he wakes up and of course goes crazy. I do this a couple nights in a row until he goes full blown crazy. I mean, he’s pouring salt everywhere, setting up weird circles and whatnot. He was doing some serious supernatural stuff. Well, one day he has enough and hires an exorcist.\n\n“Now, I don’t know about you, but I believe all ‘exorcists’ are fakes. Quacks. Now, I know that maybe my existence proves that maybe there are real ones but this guy was not.\n\n“He walks in like some big shot and tells my brother leave. I hide and wonder, ‘Can I actually make myself visible to the living?’ Then, I watch him start to steal stuff. Small things like our mother’s old jewelry. I was getting pretty flustered as I knew that I couldn’t really do anything. He proceeds to go for a box marked ‘Bro’s Stuff.’\n\n“I watched as this assailant opened it up and started grabbing anything that looks valuable. He picks up an envelope and shakes it; it’s heavy, for an envelope. He rips it open and pulls out the contents; a simple note and a couple ones rolled together. He throws the note to the floor and it unravels. I lean closer and it reads, ‘Hey bro, thanks for buying me that pack of gum when we were four. Guess I can finally pay you back now that I have an actual job. And thank you for being here for me all these years, even without mom and dad. I know I don’t say it enough but can you blame me? You’ve been bothering me to pay you pack for the gum for 20 years now! Love ya.’ I looked at the envelope. It was dated the day I died. He didn’t get the chance to pay me back.\n\nThe man goes quiet, bowing his head with a slight smile. A few moments pass before you ask, “I’m sorry. For you both, I mean. What happened next?”\n\nHe looks at you again and says, “I did what I was always doing; I acted like a poltergeist. I started shaking everything in the room, made chairs start flying around the room, made cabinets open and close violently, the whole works.\n\n“He tried to escape, of course, but I’ve never been a man of reason, especially when my brother was involved. He opened the door to go outside. I let him get to the front door to give him some false hope. What I wasn’t expecting was for my brother to be right there as the door swung open. He saw all the things I was doing and went wide eyed. The ‘exorcist’ reached out a hand to try to grab my brother but I wasn’t having it. I grabbed him by his leg and dragged him back inside, slamming the door in my brother’s face. He was banging on it of course but I didn’t care. I was too angry. And don’t give me that look; I told you I don’t belong in heaven.\n\n“I hung the guy from his ankles. I knelt down in front of him and appeared before him. As I did so, he went full deer in headlights. It was a funny site. You should try it sometime.\n\n“Anyway, I looked into his eyes and said, ‘Hello mister fake. Bet you weren’t expecting me.’ He just kept staring at me, probably too shocked at the fact he was meeting a real spirit.\n\n“I continued on with the farce. ‘You’re a very bad man, going through a guy’s recently deceased brother’s belongings. You know how people like you end up, right?’ He shook his head. I smiled in a pretty messed up way, like this.” The guy gives you a devilish grin. Odd, considering where you both are currently.\n\n“Now, I knew I really needed to drive it home that I was some super scary ghost thing so I said to him, ‘Well, let me tell you, you don’t want to find out. Now, you’re going to go out there, tell that kind man what you’ve been doing, or I’m going to personally drag you to hell along with your entire family.’ I dropped him to the floor and he runs out, told my brother everything he was doing, gave back the valuables, everything. That was the last time I saw my brother.\n\nYou both sit in silence after he ended the story. Then, a thought comes to your mind. “Is that why youre getting punished? I mean, you clearly made it know you were there,” you ask.\n\n“Oh, heavens no,” he replies. “Drunk and disorderly. Didn’t even know that was possible in heaven.”\n\n“Bull shit,” you reply. “You’re lying. Did you really think I’d believe you didn’t get in trouble for haunting someone?”\n\n“Ah, but you see, guard, the rules boil down to ‘You can’t let yourself be know’ so I didn’t. I picked up my brothers letter and wrote something along the lines of, ‘Thank you for entertaining me these past few weeks. If I ever see your brother, I’ll make sure to give him his money.’ You see, I didn’t make myself, his brother, known to him which, very technically, is legal.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Arrows filled the air. Smoke stung your eyes and permeated everything. Battle cries roared sporadically and mixed with the sound of steel on steel. This is what greeted you on your first day back. You should never have let Karen run the office while away." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A crack came from my right and I saw the arrow that had struck the wall not two feet from me wobbling from the impact. \"What the—\" several more arrows slammed into the wall as I dropped my briefcase and dove forward towards where I had hoped would be the secretary's desk. I heard my suit jacket tear in a few places and cursed under my breath. Clanking and roaring continued from beyond the hallways of the office. As I rounded the corner of the secretary's desk I tried to see through the smoke to grab a phone.\n\n\"Raaaaaaagh!!\" A cry of anger came from in front of me as a huge battle axe came crashing down on the phone receiver I was reaching for.\n\n\"Oh my God! You almost chopped my hand off!\" I screamed to no one in particular, heart racing as fear began to rush through me.\n\nThe axe was lifted from the smashed phone receiver and I saw that through the smoke, Jessica appeared. In a torn red pencil skirt and matching blouse, her hair was in braids and war paint seemed to adorn several parts of her face. \"Oh, welcome back from vacation, Mr. Haddix!\"\n\n\"Jessica? What the hell is going on?!\"\n\n\"Well, you know how you left control of the office to Karen?\"\n\n\"Yeah? Don't tell me...\" A loud crash came from the far back of the office. Jessica rolled towards me and placed her back against the desk beside me. \"What was that?!\"\n\n\"Oh shit...\" Jessica looked around the corner towards the back of the office and then looked me dead in the eyes. \"It's the Accounting Department. They've weaponized the copier.\" She gripped the large battle axe in both hands and I was able to get a better look at it. The handle seemed to be a broomstick, the axe head itself was several paper slicer blades fashioned around what looked like a drawer face.\n\n\"Weaponized the... what's going on?!\" I shook my head in disbelieve, the sounds of combat all around. \"Where is Karen?!\"\n\n\"It's too late for her. Karen and the interns took over the break room and have fortified their position. Accounts Receivable has the bathrooms on lock down and Internet Sales has control over the board room. Sir...\" she looked to me then and reached over our heads and on top of the desk. With a grunt, she pulled down and large pipe that landed in my hands instinctively. The pipe had four staplers attached to one side, clearly with the intention of stapling anything that it came into contact with and several cracked pieces of old CD's on the other end, making it look like a nasty club. \"You'll need this. I'm gonna' try and make it to the cafeteria. I... I haven't eaten in days... wish me luck,\" she rounded the corner and dove into the fray.\n\n\"Wait, goddamnit, what the shit is this all about?!\" My heart was pounding as I held the heavy Stapler Pipe with both hands. I tried to look down the hall but the smoke was too thick. I could hear the streaking of arrows coming from both sides of the office and got a glimpse of two forms fighting through the smoke. \"Karen! You bitch! What have you done to our offices?!\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: In the 1800s the East India corporation and the church form an alliance, assassinate Darwin and ban science. 200 years later you are a tech/morality enforcement officer and you are starting to question your job..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Henry sighed. He was having difficulty keeping his mind focused. The steady sound of hooves on stone was not helping.\n\n\"What's wrong?\" Tom asked. \"You seem out of sorts.\"\n\n\"Yeah, sorry. It's just...my son came down with tuberculosis.\"\n\n\"Oh, Henry, I'm so sorry. Have you taken him to the Church healers?\"\n\n\"Of course. He just went through his third leeching, and the priests have been attending him, but he's not getting any better.\"\n\nIf anything the boy was getting worse. Henry would never say so, but he was starting to doubt the Church's ability to heal his son.\n\n\"Tell you what, how about after we take out the heathens, we have a nice long prayer session?\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah I'd like that. But I think you should take point today. I'm not good for anything.\"\n\nTom nodded and got ready to work. The so-called scientists were smart. They his in places the eyes of the law had trouble seeing. But the eyes of the Church saw all. Tom and Henry pulled their carriage over and readied their spears.\n\nTom stood near the door and nodded. Henry returned the action. Tom kicked down the door and shouted.\n\n\"In the name of God and Church, stand where you are!\"\n\nOf course they did not. They never did. All the people inside scrambled to hide, or put something between themselves and the armored men. All but one. A young man stood in the middle of the room filled with books and papers. He trembled, but he stood. Both Henry and Tom could respect that. It was the only reason Tom had not immediately run the man through.\n\n\"You...you shouldn't do this.\" The man said. \"Do you have any idea what our work can do?\"\n\n\"Don't know, don't care.\" Tom said. \"All I know is that you are atheists practicing the Devil's art of science.\"\n\n\"No! It's not evil.\" The scientist said. \"We are studying medicine. Diseases, and what cause them. It's 2020, we should not think demons cause disease anymore.\"\n\n\"Aw, how cute. The heathen thinks he knows more than 2000 years of Church experience and work.\" Tom scoffed. \"Now, I'd tell you to say your last prayers, but you don't believe in the word of God.\"\n\n\"No, don't, please! Don't you get it? Polio, tuberculosis, smallpox, malaria. All have a cause that we can see. We can cure them better than the Church ever will.\"\n\nHenry's breath caught in his throat. Was that true? Could science save his son where God would not?\n\nTom laughed. \"You think you can do something the almighty God and his workers cannot? You really are deluded fools. Come on Henry, let's do our job.\"\n\nHenry leveled his spear at the nearest person. He thrust forward, piercing the man through. Tom turned to look at him with eyes wide with shock.\n\n\"I...I'm sorry.\" He said quietly. \"But they say they can cure him. They can cure my son. I...I have to try.\"\n\nBlood dripped out of Tom's mouth. Even more came from the deep wound in his stomach. The life left his eyes, even as tears left Henry's.\n\nHe would mourn later. Seek redemption later. But for now he had more important things to do. He let the body fall.\n\n\"Can you really cute tuberculosis?\" He asked.\n\n\"Not fully. Not yet. Right now all we can do is slow the disease. But we're close. We just need a few more months as we'll have a cure. We can do it faster if we had more people with the disease to study though.\"\n\n\"My son has it. If I bring him to you, can you keep him alive?\"\n\n\"Absolutely. And with your permission, we can use his disease to further our search for the cure.\"\n\n\"Keep yourselves hidden. I'll be back with my boy tonight.\"\n\nHenry nodded and turned to leave. He gave one last look at Tom's body. He had no idea what to do now. What story to tell. But the horse was slow, and he would have time to think of something. All he did know, was that his son needed him. Nothing else mattered.\n\nNothing." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Death has sex for the first time. (NSFW)" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He sat back on the bed, leaning on his elbows. If he had a heart, he knew it'd be pumping rapidly right now.\n\n\"Please, please. You're taking this a bit fast Martha. We just met.\"\n\nMartha just kept making out with him furiously, kissing his neck and working towards removing his cloak, \"Calm down, its just some fucking.\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah I get that. But, but- oh my god!\" Death is interrupted by Martha's interest with what's underneath the cloak. She raises her head back up and shows a face of disapproval.\n\n\"What the fuck? Where's your dick?\"\n\n\"I don't have it,\" Death looks uncertain at her. He knows this was something he should have brought up. But then again, she should have seen it coming- he is a skeleton after all.\n\n\"Well how are we supposed to fuck? There's nothing there for me to work with!\"\n\n\"I don't know- I thought maybe some making out and then cuddling?\"\n\n\"Oh my god,\" Martha gets on her feet and turns back, with her hands on the back of her head. She turns back around, \"You've never done this before have you?\"\n\n\"What? Yeah! Plenty of times. I just feel that you're really special,\"\n\n\"You've never fucking fucked before have you?\"\n\n\"Do you have to be so vulgar? No I haven't, Christ! I could make up for it though, don't worry,\"\n\nShe sits down on the bed, putting her top on, \"Oh I'm worried, for you though because I'm about to leave, and everyone's going to know that you never even had a dick to begin with. Now you're gonna be a joke to everybody, you got that?\"\n\nDeath realized the predicament that he was in. He felt he had no choice, so he reached for her and placed her on her back, and began to reach with his hand into her skirt, and began to pump his index finger in and out of her. Suddenly, Martha moaned. Death saw that this was pleasing her, so he went faster.\n\n\"Keep going, oh!\" She began to move with death but within minutes she went stiff after letting out a scream. Death didn't realize though for a couple more seconds.\n\n\"Oh shit, I killed her,\" Death didn't know what to do. But then he remembered that his other hand was capable of reviving people in case he messed up during his duty. So without a thought, death raised his left hand and drove it down with a force across Martha's face. Just like that she woke up and let out a pleasured gasp.\n\n\"What- what was that?\" She breathed between syllables.\n\n\"I just used my finger to fuck you,\"\n\n\"No one's ever done that before. That was- that was fantastic!\"\n\n\"Seriously? You died for a second there,\"\n\n\"Holy shit are you serious?\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah you died for a good while, I had to slap you back to life,\"\n\nMartha leaned her head back, \"I don't know about you, but I never experienced anything like that before. It was like- a thousand times better than any sex I've had,\"\n\n\"Well that's good to hear, good to hear,\" Death exclaimed. He knew if he had lips, he'd be smiling a shit-eating grin.\n\n\"I'm still gonna tell everyone You're a dickless virgin though,\"\n\n\"Okay then...\" Death proceeded to touch Martha with his left hand to her heart and kill her.\n\n\"I'll tell the guys I totally boned her,\" Death told himself as he got up from the bed and reached for his scythe." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Well, in hindsight, it might not have been the best time to admit that she’d always wanted to have a threesome… but who would have expected her two best friends to take advantage of that so fast!?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Chloe was absorbing the story that Claire had just told her. The idea that a bunch of board game nerds could cut loose like that was way hot. But if she heard right Claire didn't even join in, she just watched her beau dick down some other nerd.\n\n\"So wait, you didn't join in? I though you liked your gal pals?\"\n\n\"I do, but I know how Mike feels about adding another guy and I don't want to try him out and I'm not really that into the idea myself so basically I provided enough social cues to like Mike take care of her. She won the game after all.\"\n\n\"I've always wanted a 3 way, though. Haven't you?\"\n\n\"Sure, and if the right opportunity presents itself, I'm going to take it right there, believe me. That just wasn't it.\"\n\n\"Think that girl would be into it?\"\n\n\"Jessica?\" Said Claire, \"I dunno she might be. She was making eyes at me at the end, but kinda everyone was watching everyone. But we talked about it and it'd be weird if almost half the room was involved in regularly fucking each other so no.\"\n\nThe two women made small talk then the clicking in door know indicated Mike was home from work. The ladies were silent as they watched the door give way to a familiar six foot tall guy with short dark hair wearing a green lantern T-shirt, blue jeans, and gray sneakers. He had a pizza in hand and a six pack of beer. \"Hey babe! Oh, her Chloe. I didn't expect you here.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I was bored, and Claire asked me to come hang out.\"\n\n\"Well, good thing I got a large. There's a couple beers if you want them, too. Otherwise I think we have -\"\n\nChloe lifted a stem glass with a yellow greenish clear liquid and said, \"box wine.\"\n\nMike responded with, \"you can't call it box wine unless it comes from the box wine region of France. Otherwise is just sparkling cardboard.\"\n\nClaire laughed, but Chloe said \"nerds,\" dismissively.\n\nMike shifted focus, \"how was today?\"\n\nClaire had been waiting to hammer Mike with this since we walked through the door. \"I was just telling Chloe about your game play demo with Jessica from last weekend.\"\n\n\"Oh?\"\n\n\"Yeah, she thought it sounded pretty hot, and told me that she has always wanted a threesome.\"\n\nMike regarded Chloe for a second. About five and a half feet tall like Claire, but her brown girly hair was a bit shorter than Claire's. Her body was slightly thicker, but her tits and ass looked a bit larger. He looked back to Claire, \"didn't you guys used to make out together back in school?\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Claire said, nodding.\n\n\"Well, Chloe, how interested are you in a threesome here and now?\"\n\n\"Like in the kitchen?\"\n\nMike said, \"We actually have a whole bedroom.\"\n\nClaire said, \"and you've never seen it.\"\n\nChloe responded with, \"fuck a real bedroom? I'm so in!\"\n\nClaire decided to take her sarcasm as an agreement, though and lead her up stairs. Not that it wasn't an agreement. Chloe was definitely interested just... She figured it'd be an event. Something they'd all be dressed up for. Dinner, movie, maybe she'd be a birthday gift. But she also remembers making out with Claire and her small breasts. She wanted to see her little brown nipples more than anything right now.\n\nSo when they got to the bedroom the first thing she did was kiss Claire and peel her shirt off. As she began talking nips at her nips, she caught a lusty sense of mild euphoria. She always loved Claire's body. Mike came in to join Chloe sucking on a nipple. They worked in tandem for a few minutes when Chloe leaning in to kids Claire. Mike lifted Chloe's shirt up and, realizing she had a bra on reached and unclasped it, then lifted the cups over her tits to reveal light pink little nipples.\n\nClaire helped remove the test of her top, and helped Mike suck in Chloe's nipples. While she was playing with a nipple in her teeth, she slid her hand down Chloe's pants and parted her dense pubic hair with her finger, and began caressing her slit. Mike noticed his girlfriend's hands down Chloe's pants, and decided to unbutton and remove them, exposing her thick ass and dense bush. Claire got down on her knees, spread Chloe's lips and pressed her tongue firmly against her friends clit.\n\nMike considered tonguing at Chloe's gorgeous ass, but he knew butt stuff could bring controversy, so he practiced self control, turning his attention to Claire. He kneeled down and slid his hands down the back of her pants, reached around and began playing with her pussy from behind.\n\nClaire worked at her friend until she started twitching, shaking and sputtering from her first orgasm of the night. Chloe dropped her ass to the bed and allowed herself to revel in the glory of the orgasm her friend just gave her. Mike took the opportunity take Claire's pants and panties. Claire's frontside was pointed towards Chloe who was coming to and catching a face full of Claire's freshly shaven pussy. Mike was on her back side because Claire would have no such misgivings over a rim job.\n\nChloe slid herself between Claire's legs and started licking at her clit. While focusing her oral activity on Claire, she reached over to unbutton Mike's jeans. He got the picture and stood up and peel them off, revealing a nice thick erection that both girls began sucking and kissing on. After several minutes of providing Mike with attention, he laid Claire down on her side with himself behind her, pressed his cock into her pussy, and held her leg open with his free hand. Chloe resumed tonguing away at Claire's clit.\n\nClaire wasn't sure which one set her off and want sure she cared. The hammering orgasm radiates waves of incomparable pleasure. She panted be sand moaned while Mike removed his cock and Chloe her tongue. They repositioned themselves so that they could do doggy style. When Claire began to hear Mike's heavy breathing, she sat up and as he pulled out she caught his load in her tits. Chloe repositioned to begin licking the cum off her tits and jerking the rest of Mike's load after him.\n\nChloe said \"that was a rushed, but I wished we could have talked about it a little more. Guys, I love ass play and only got to watch it in my first 3 some. I think I deserve another one, and some pizza.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You wake up in a house. It's nice place, with all the comforts of home. However, the front door is cold steel, with a note on it. The note warns you never to leave the house. After years of compliance, you decide to go through the steel door..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "What the man had always thought of his home was that it was a shelter. He could sit and sip on some hot cocoa while reading a good book in front of the fire, but the windows were gigantic slabs of concrete. All the years he spent watching TV, trying to block out the sounds from outside he never once considered leaving his shelter. Every day he woke up, stretched and donned his slippers. Made breakfast, and sat down on the sofa.\n\nSome days he heard banging, others he heard muffled screams and warbling cries from creatures he never wanted to lay eyes upon.\n\nIn time these sounds faded, one day he smelled soot and dirt and the man was convinced that the concrete slabs were holding back mounds of burned earth.\n\nThe silence was the worst. He could deal with the strange noises, it forced him to be scared and act, or try and listen, to think of ways of blocking out the screams.\n\nThe silence was just that, silence. His life had never been normal ever since he woke up in front of the door, covered in burns and faced with a note at 10 years of age. But now his existence degenerated, he felt empty. He craved companionship, he cried and laughed and in a fit of rage, smashed his TV.\n\nHe snapped.\n\nMonths passed in silence, he gazed at the gigantic steel door, the hingers that could hold fast against any bomb, the multitude of locks and bolts and welds that held it shut.\n\nHe shivered the day he noticed that all of these were bent inwards, as though something had tried to reach him. A pressure wave? A monster? He didn't want to know.\n\nHe spent a week thinking, pondering. Did he really want to live like this? What if the silence meant a new world had sprung up around his cold and lonely shelter?\n\nHe decided to leave. There is no fate worse than death, what's the worst that could happen? The noose in the basement was forgotten.\n\nThe man spent a year tearing at the door. He picked the locks and cut the bent hinges over the course of two months. He used up every appliance in the shelter to tear up the welds. The bolts came last and took five pairs of tools to make loose.\n\nIn a drawer deep in the garage full of ruined tools he found a knife that wouldn't break. He ransacked his house for useful tools. The door became undone, slowly but surely each lock gave way to the knife and his assault.\n\nThen one day, half-mad, he put on his rucksack, the warmest clothes he had and pushed the door.\n\nIt didn't budge.\n\nHe pushed again and the slab of steel wobbled. The floor of his shelter gave way and the door fell down with a tremendous boom, it cracked the boards covering the cellar and flew through the cellar's floor and smashed the enigmatic power source.\n\nThe lights went out and he was in the dark.\n\nOn the other side of the tunnel behind the door he saw the faintest hint of light. He staggered towards it, cool dirt met with his boots, he smelled life. Plants and wind.\n\nA wide grin formed on his lips as he stepped out of the tunnel and saw a creature for the first time in his life other than himself. It was a little lizard, green and with a dumb look on its face. It skittered away when he kneeled down and began to laugh. Blasted skeletons of skyscrapers towered above him, craters covered the landscape, full of clear blue water and surrounded by green life. A hundred wars had been fought over his head.\n\nHe saw smoke way off in the distance, and walked off into the jungle.\n\nThe first human he had seen in 20 years was a woman in a spacesuit taking samples of wild wheat." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Over the course of one long speech, a dictator slowly realises his entire ideology is based on lies." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Thank you, one and all, for attending this ceremony on this fine summer day in this incredible nation we call home. I understand that attendance is mandatory, but your presence is appreciated nonetheless.\n\nI would like to personally thank the new Chairman of Agriculture for introducing me, and even more thanks to the National Housing Committees for this wonderful venue. You do our country proud, as every citizen does and forever will.\n\nI must also add that the statue erected in my honour and excellence in front of this hall is spectacular, a true vision of patriotic integrity. Whoever pitched the idea of changing the mount from a horse to a three-headed snake, you have my eternal thanks.\n\nThe matter of why I have gathered you, the people, and the moneygr-... enthusiastic journalists, has been of a muted nature. We are a strong people and an even stronger government, but time was needed to thoroughly examine our situation. Time we may not get back, but time well spent, as you will soon understand.\n\nTragedy has struck us, my citizens. You know this, of course, as I do; sickness and plague have spread across the country faster than any prior recorded pestilence. Do not fear it, we have done everything we can, and we have neutralized the threat completely. Almost entirely. Mostly.\n\nThe point is that you need not worry for the well being of your families and friends; our quarantine efforts have executed the problem. Speaking of executing, I would like to welcome to the stage my trusted epidemiologist Dr. Spencer. Throughout these recent tumultuous weeks, Dr. Spencer has been by my side ex-. What do you mean he's not here? At the farm upstate? What does that even mean?\n\nMoving on. Due to this recent outbreak, I regret to inform you all that our importation traffic will cease and no new trade will be coming through. This will dent our resolve but as a unified force, we will forge a better tomorrow, just as our forefathers have done.\n\nThe largest concern is that of food. A large amount of our produce is shipped into our borders by our neighbouring allies. With that connection severed, it is up to you to provide for your fellow man. To combat this hardship, I have altered the food ration ticket system. Rather than a defaulted meal, we are now providing nutritional options as well as amenities. I have been advised that such liberties may have an adverse effect, but I disagree. A strong people need a strong meal. Please accept my apologies for not realizing that an empty stomach leads to an unhappy citizen. Honestly, I don't know why we didn't do this sooner.\n\nAnother major concern regards the status of our medicinal and medical capabilities. The previously foreclosed hospitals and clinics are being renovated and retrofitted with the latest technology, allowing us to aid the sick and ease the transition for some. My former associate Dr. Spencer had once said, \"Why don't our people have access to simple medicines? This is criminal.\" and I've taken that to heart. You will still need to show your papers and identification to prove your identity before any treatment, non-emergency or otherwise. Wait, that doesn't sound right. Mr. Gren, please edit that out. The people should be able to fix a broken arm without a bit of bureaucracy getting in the way.\n\nI have dispatched both local and national police services to keep order in the streets, and I've received word that they are hardly even needed. I must applaud you all for keeping calm in such turbulent times. Hold on, what were those explosions last night then? Don't look at me like that. Oh, right, we're live.\n\nIn such hard times, we must all make sacrifices. I have taken it upon myself to sacrifice many things. For instance, I now feed my peacocks the same food as my parrots, and not the extremely expensive pellets I used previously. They suffer alongside us all, and I implore you to understand that we must all give up an amenity if it means the survival of our nation. I see that many of you out there are wearing very raggedy clothes. Maybe you could ask your neighbour if they have some extras to spare? My department of health had insisted that our populace be well clothed. Speak up, I can't hear you. Nothing? What do you mean we have nothing? We pride ourselves in our in-country production, from clothes to cars, and you have nothing? Where's all that money going then, Mrs. Dent? Hm.\n\nWhile we have suffered, there has been no attempt from outside nations to aid us, and to that, I must say I am shocked. We have done nothing but support them, and they ignore us. Deputy Director Klein in the National Communications Agency has painstakingly established connections to other countries in need, and we have on-going attempts for aid at the very moment. So they tell me at least.\n\nYou know, now that I think about it, I haven't really seen much of this data. Gimme that. These pages just say, \"Let him think he's in charge\". What's the meaning of this? I am your leader, chosen by the people to- Yes, I was chosen! I was there, of course I know!\n\nIs this a coup? Is that what's happening? Well, guess what, you suited yesmen and yeswomen. You're fired. Of course, I have the power, I'm the President. Need I remind you thousands are watching this right now. Any action you take is broadcast to the world, so put the gun down. Oh come on, the cameraman's in on it too?\n\nCitizens! Your president is in danger! Don't let them take me away! I've done so much good for this country, you know this! Stop hitting me! Someone take care of my peacocks!" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: In the far future where military genetic modification removed the need for vehicles a couple of women discuss how hard finding a date is now that they are part of the heavy armored division." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Lieutenant John Micheal stood waiting with the rest of his squad, most of them spread in nooks and crooks in the road and brush. He flicked his eyes up to the clock displayed in his retinal unit.\n\nA few more minutes before the ETA of the Walkers. It was his teams job to escort them back to the extract point. He didn't know why Walkers would need an escort, but he had his orders.\n\nRight on time his earbud buzzed and he could hear a soft voice \"movement in center\". A tense moment ensued before the same soft voice came again \"friendly\".\n\nJohn waited a full minute before getting out of cover, while the rest of his team stayed hidden. No use taking chances. He could hear them before he could see them expected, the swosh-click noise was pretty distinctive.\n\nThe Walkers were getting into sight just then - and were they a sight as always. John never did know how to first react to them, but all things be damned if he wasn't glad as hell to have the heavies behind him in combat.\n\nThere were three of them, as expected and they looked as he expected: Biomech legs providing the strength they needed to keep moving for days on end without stopping, anti-Armour cannons on their backs, heavy impulse chest harness providing a micro-nuke capable impact while keeping them alive. All in all, they were designed, bred and built to do one job very well. John stood there waiting for them to come closer so he didn't have to yell,\n\nand wile they were getting closer he got a more detailed look at them.\n\nAll three were female, or at least looked female, he never knew with biomechs, but holy hell, he never noticed before in combat gear fully armored up - but they were stunning.\n\n--\n\nKali let her weight move itself more or less: 6 hours of flying, then being airdropped, recovering from the micro-nukes followed by door-to-door combat, hell even her rail-guns were out of commission at this point. Oh they had completed their objectives, minor civilian casualties were acceptable and they had decimated a full convoy, then learning their extract was a damn 30 hour run away did not improve their mood. So here they were 28 hours later coupling up with their escort, and she was still pissed of. She wanted to take off her combat legs and chug back a crate of beer about 25 hours ago.\n\nNext to her Ali and Jazz were gossiping, and Kali more or less droned it out - everyone deals with stress and the drugs that keep them alive running low in their own way. They did it by gossiping. Beats the way some others shut down higher brain functions or flooded their system with opiates.\n\n\"Ugh, that Mike was a total douche. I told you not to date those air-force fellows. All they have in their head is what they have in their pants and in their pulsars.\" Jazz spoke with such authority, you'd never know her to be married to her high school sweetheart for over 50 years now and had never so much as kissed another man. Nor did she look that way - she looked like the 22 year old she was when she joined the forces. \"Something is always wrong with the ones that spend all day throwing things out.\"\n\n\"But he was Sooo CUTE.\" was the reply. \"The way he kept playing with my metal was so gentle\". She caressed her own cheek where an implant used to maintain jaw integrity showed. She huffed quickly \"But as soon as i said i had my internals removed he was all\" -she mimicked a gruff voice- \"i cant be with a women i wont have babies with.\"\n\n\"As if you need a uterus for that. Asshole.\"\n\nShe hadn't noticed that by that point they had an escort of 9 marines who were trying their damned hardest to show every appearance of not listening, and miserably failing.\n\n\"I'd date you internals or not as long as those guns keep mine right where they are.\" one the marines muttered to himself, wearing Lt. tags. Not knowing their implants enhanced their hearing, and while Kali laughed - quote loud - and Jazz smiled in her way, Ali was every shade of red short of blood. That marine was either getting a gun up his, or his gun up somewhere else... and to be fair, marines were much nicer to play with Kali though tot herself." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: When breaking up with someone, you are given the option to regain all of the \"lost\" time you spent with them. In exchange, you are fated to never meet again for the remainder of your lives." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "'We must.' I said as I looked over at Clara in the passenger seat. Her big brown eyes never left mine and I could see the tears welling in their sides. I never looked away and I couldn't. Tears were also streaming down my face, but wiping them away was no use. It smeared the blood over my paling skin, in a mixture with the sweat and I could taste the salt from my tears upon my split lips.\n\nClara was hunched over now holding her stomach. She was four weeks pregnant at the time, but you couldn't tell now. Blood rushed from lacerations about her neck and although I held her hand as she sat unable to move within the twisted wreckage of our burning vehicle, I could feel her strength slipping within our entwined fingers. She drew deep breaths and sobbed as she placed her head against the side window which had been shattered like a spider web from the impact.\n\nThe car had flipped numerable times and the fate of the other driver in his vehicle was unknown. Clara and I came to a stop thanks to a large oak tree at the bottom of an embankment that halted the tumbling machine with such unwavering force that the car's engine and other pieces had became projectile shrapnel and tore through flesh and metal with lethal results.\n\nI couldn't even hold the steering wheel. The blood was gushing from my body in so many places that it would seemingly just slip off what ever surface I tried to touch. My mind was a storm of panic and confusing. I wanted to get us out. To open the door, pull Clara free from this nightmare and save us, but my battered body couldn't. My head hung back against the head rest and a feeling of cold and tiredness began to fill my body. 'Cla....Clara?' I managed to choke out, but she didn't respond. For a moment then I was over taken with extreme grief as I looked upon her gored frame. Though no words left her lips I could still see her chest slowly moving up and down and her eyes following what ever slow movements I could muster lethargically, and her pointer finger, still within my opened hand that was filled with pooling blood, well it would twitch. I knew she was still alive, but not for much longer.\n\n'Oh No. God Clara no, God why?' I said, crying and staring at her knowing that any moment would be the last. 'It can't end this way my love. I am so...so sorry, but I will not...can not let you...' . I looked at her then, grabbing her small hand in mine our fingers squished together and locked tightly. The tears were streaming even more so now and her eyes lay upon me. Her mouth was open now and she panted it seemed. Her breaths quick and short. I knew it was too late for her, too late for us, unless.....\n\n'We're over! Done Clara done! It's over!' , I screamed out. It wasn't at her, but the rage I loosened in my voice was the last remaining fuel that sustained my life and would be my final act next to this dying woman, pregnant with my child whom now lay dying next to me. Her eyes reflected the hopelessness that consumed me along with the terror and fear. Then it all went black.\n\nI awoke seven years ago as a department store manager and had to make it in extra early on this Tuesday. I was taking applications for new cashiers and my first applicant was for an over-qualified woman out of college named Clara. She sounded very excited for the opportunity over the phone the assistant manager said, but I had to have him call her back and cancel. My neighbor Dave's a really good guy and due to some local lay offs could really use the work and money. No need to interview anymore people, I thought, this day is going to be great." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: You find a old decrepit grave in the woods, feeling heart broken that it's in poor condition and was forgotten about you decide to clean it up, and visit every few days, upon on of your visits you see a ghost sitting at the grave." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "THE FIRST DAY\n\nCollette stumbled across the small grave stone during an exploratory walk through the wooded acreage behind her new home. Literally stumbled over it, taking a light fall into the padding of fallen leaves after the tip of a boot caught the edge unexpectedly. Surprised by the tumble but not any worse for wear, she only noticed that the stone was more than ordinary rock after she had righted herself and begun brushing the dirt from her knees. Leaves kicked from the face of the stone during the initial upset, she now saw a name. Worn with age and more than a little obscured by the growth of moss and lichen, she was nonetheless able to make it out: Dewey.\n\nTHE SECOND DAY\n\nFor the remainder of the previous day's walk, throughout the time spent tediously unpacking books and knick knacks that same evening, and then again as she had laid safe and warm in bed that night, the little forgotten grave had weighed on Collette's mind. Finally, exhausted with the work of moving and her circling thoughts, she had fallen asleep, but not before she had reached decision.\n\nIt was this decision that led Collette back to Dewey the very next day, steel brush and bucket of water in hand. Brushing away the night's work of windblown leaves, she traced the letters on the stone gingerly before pulling away at the largest bits of moss by hand. The clumps came away easily, leaving only traces of mud and darkened wet spots on the stone beneath. With the larger detritus cleared to her satisfaction, she began her work with the bucket and brush. Within minutes she had shed her coat and a streak of mud had appeared on her brow from beads of sweat being wiped away. After some time and continued effort though, she was able to sit back and admire her work.\n\nDewey's name now showed clearly on the face of a pale stone, no longer camouflaged among the leaves and roots of the ground, it stood out proudly in the colors of the fall wood. Collette, with windblown hair and muddy hands, stood up to stretch. Content with the results and beginning to feel the chill once more now that the exertion of cleaning was over, she gathered her things and began the winding trek through the woods back to the house. It was only when she had left the cover of the trees and crossed into the overgrown grass of open yard that she turned, having heard a faint tinkling of bells in the distance. Dirty and cold as she was, she did not stop long to ponder the sound and had soon forgotten the moment in favor of a hot shower.\n\nTHE FIFTH DAY\n\nSince the initial day of cleaning, Collette had made a habit of visiting the little grave during her walks. She had taken to picking up small objects of interest, bright red leaves, empty snail shells, rocks of intriguing shape or color, and placing them at the base of the stone. She reasoned that every grave deserved visiting, and if one was visiting, then wasn't bringing a gift simply the polite thing to do? With the pile of little treasures accumulating around it, Dewey's pale stone seemed to shine brighter against the wooded backdrop each day. And each day Collette returned home to the tinkling of bells as she left the trees, every time seeming to ring a little louder and a little longer.\n\nTHE FIFTEENTH DAY\n\nAfter several visits, Collette had eventually taken the trouble to lug a small bench out to the site of the grave. It only made sense, the place had an air of peace and Dewey's stone with it's ever-growing pile of treasures was now more often the actual destination of Collette's recent walks instead of the detour it had originally been. Collette would place the day's prize with the other odds and ends and then sit at the bench for a while. Some days she would read, occasionally reciting aloud to Dewey, thinking he might appreciate the distraction of a tawdry romance occasionally. Other days she would simply sit and listen. On these days she would hear without a doubt the sound of bells, mixing faintly with the spirited songs of birds and the rushing of leaves. On these same days, at the edges of her vision, it seemed that something small and white would flicker past. When she turned her head she could never find the source and was only left with the sense of something watching. In this way Collette passed her days at Dewey's grave.\n\nTHE THIRTIETH DAY\n\nA striped feather in hand, picked up during her walk and intended as the offering for the day, Collette reached the stone and realized with a start that something had beaten her there. A pale white-gray, similar in color to the stone itself and curled primly atop it, was a small cat. Collette, determined to get a good look at the visitor but wary of scaring it away, picked her way slowly across the leaves to her usual spot on the bench. By the time she sat down, the little cat had perked one bright blue eye open and observed her with casual interest, tail waving slowly across the face of the stone. With the cat showing no sign of being disturbed, Collette carried on with her usual routine. Placing the feather she carried at her side for the moment, she retrieved her current book from her bag and began to read. Occasionally she would read an especially interesting paragraph aloud to the cat, who moved very little in response except to stretch and reposition at times. Even so, she enjoyed its company, and found herself so content in the moment that she did not realize how fast the light around her was fading until the words on the page became difficult to read.\n\nA pang of worry hit her then, as her usual path through the woods was not well-marked and she had not yet attempted it in darkness. With this in mind she quickly made preparations to leave, and only when she had taken the feather beside her and gone to lay it at the foot of Dewey's grave with the other trimmings did the cat atop it appear to take interest. It descended then from the stone with lazy grace and rubbed once across her still outstretched hand, much to Collette's delight, and then padded gently in front of her down the path, stopping a few paces away only to turn its head and look back expectantly.\n\nIt did not take long for Collette and the cat to find a companionable pace as they walked the path in fading light. Though they made fast progress at first, the dimming sun soon made things difficult for Collette and she found herself stumbling over roots and crashing into unseen branches. More than once the cat circled her legs insistently and paced away in a direction different to that which Collette was facing and each time she turned to follow the ground beneath her feet became easier to traverse. Eventually she gave up any sense of choosing the path for herself and followed obediently. Soon after she was rewarded with the glow of orange light in the distance, heralding her return to the safety of her home.\n\nAs the little pale cat led the way past the last of the trees and crossed the yard to wait at the steps by the back door, Collette followed closely behind with promises of food and a warm spot in front of the fire for the both of them. Giving a grateful rub behind the ears and receiving a contented rumbling purr in return, Collette then turned to open the door. Upon stepping aside and holding it wide for her small friend to enter, she found only an empty yard behind her. Searching for the little cat, she finally noticed something gleaming in the light of the open door. On the last step leading into the yard lay a small silver bell, engraved clearly with a name: Dewey." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Humans discover that something very familiar to us is in fact a species of alien." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I'd always wanted to visit the Pyramids, but between raising our kids and Gladys's active involvement with the American Rose Society, we never found the time.\n\nEven after our kids were grown and out of the house, Gladys seemed content spending her days on her knees in the dirt, pruning her Botticellis and Barbarossas and whatever the hell else she had going on out there.\n\nFinally, I'd had enough. I stormed into one of her rose society meetings and said \"Gladys, I'm going to see the Pyramids. I've always wanted to, and I'm doing it. You can come if you want, or don't, I really don't give a shit.\"\n\nThe rose society fell completely silent. In another lifetime I would have found it uncomfortable, but fuck it, I'm beyond caring at this point. Finally, Gladys piped up. \"But if I go with you who's going to watch the cats?\"\n\n\"The cats? Fuck the cats. They're cats, they hardly even like us to begin with.\" I was piping hot, and damn close to storming out of the room, when Gladys's friend Cheryl, bless her boring little heart, came to the rescue.\n\n\"I'll watch the cats, it's really no bother at all.\"\n\nAnd with that, Gladys and I are on a plane headed to Egypt. Can you believe it? Egypt.\n\nThey don't tell you, but the Pyramids are right fucking there, in the middle of everything. I guess, in a way, they always have been, but still, it's hard to imagine the pharaohs strolling down the causeway and into a KFC, like you can now.\n\nI didn't want to bother with tour groups and all that. I didn't want to be another cliche retired couple in matching khaki shorts, our noses beet red and peeling, taking pictures of goddamn everything. No, I waited until night time, left Gladys in the hotel with the latest issue of Rose Magazine, and snuck, in the dark, to the Great Pyramid of Khufu.\n\nI don't know why, but staring at the face of that beautiful, powerful structure, I was overcome with the urge to climb. And climb I did, all the way to the goddamn top. Once there, I felt this strange energy, something like magnetism and electricity together, coursing up through the Pyramid and through my body.\n\nThat's when I looked up and saw the craft, descending directly on top of where I was sitting. I know it sounds too boring to be true, but it was a saucer, no doubt about it. It was hovering directly above me now. A blue shaft of light came down and two figures emerged, hovering in midair.\n\nIt took a minute before I could figure out exactly what I was looking at. And I won't lie, I was scared shitless. But then, out of the misty blue light, plain as day, two giant cats, standing on their hind legs.\n\nThe giant cats floated down until they were standing just beside me. And wouldn't you know it? They were ignoring me. Pretending as if I wasn't even there. Typical fucking cats.\n\nThe bigger one with the weird fuzzy testicles let out a cry, like a snarl, sort of, but more screechy and irritating. The next thing I know, house cats are running from everywhere, up the sides of the pyramid before levitating up into the ship.\n\nAfter a few hundred cats fly past me, the big fuckers beam up as well. The saucer's door closes, and it flies off into the dark night. Just like that.\n\nI rush down the sides of the Pyramid, and back to the hotel, eager to tell Gladys what I've just seen. But halfway there I realize it's not worth it. She already thinks I'm off the reservation, even without telling her about the man-sized alien cats.\n\nWe spend the rest of the trip in relative silence, just like every other day of our dreary goddamn lives.\n\nWe fly back home, and find Cheryl there with the cats. I swear, they're looking at me funny. They know I'm on to them. It's a brave new world, cats. I know the score, and I'm not taking any shit from either one of you." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Humans are very irritating pets, because, no matter what you do, they always manage to escape their enclosure" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Humans were very irritating pets, because, no matter what we did, they always managed to escape their enclosure.\n\nIn fact it was something out of the ordinary. Their ability to escape bordered on the surreal. In all of recorded history there had never once been a human pet who had not tried to escape. Nor one that had given up trying to escape before their death. That was the darker side of the coin - plenty of humans had given their lives in pursuit of freedom.\n\nIn terms that a galactic reader would understand, humans were also dumb, smelly, loud, tiny and inefficient. In short they had everything stacked against them. Nature's joke, if you will. God's mistake, according to others. Taken as a whole they were fundamentally undesirable to keep as pets. But doubly so because of their strange ability to escape any cage.\n\nParadoxically this was what made humans desirable to keep as pets. Their undesirability became the highest quality one could possess. A weird niche had developed amongst the petkeepers of the galaxy. A niche that sought out the impossible, the unfathomably challenging pet to keep. And they genuinely tried their best. But against humanity, the odds were poor and many humans died for nothing.\n\nI was one of those people. Each one of us had our own reasons for keeping the unkept. For me, I considered it an insult to civilized society that we should be so challenged by such a seemingly weak and insignificant pet. How could it be possible, I wondered, for a galaxy that had literally mastered keeping living stars as pets, to fail at something so... damn annoying!\n\nSo I began to build an enclosure of sorts. The human ability to escape bordered on the surreal. But we were masters of the universe. There was no thought we could not think, no concept alien to us. I figured if the human ability could be quantified and tested beyond all reasonable levels - then we could build a cage that would keep them forever. That's where others had failed, I thought. They had underestimated the humans' desire for freedom as the fundamental driving urge behind their incessant escape attempts.\n\nWhat if instead of focusing on the physical cage, we instead focused on the metaphysical. If they could escape any physical cage - where would their mental limit be if we challenged them hard enough? If they were truly able to escape any enclosure built for them, what if we built metaphysical constructs intended to contain them? Would they surpass those too? Would they evolve past their own limits in order to overcome the external limit placed around them?\n\n\"I am not a number!\" the tiny human I was observing for the moment cried out in triumph as he escaped the baseline cage. \"I am a free person!\" it yelled into the air while shaking their fists at the sky. They had successfully escaped the first basic thought construct of \"the village\". In the village other simulated humans all acted identically following strict and formal rules. The pet had to overcome their sense of belonging to the herd and challenge the laws set in place that prevented its escape - such as 'never leave the village'. This one human had.\n\nI looked at my notes and checked the first enclosure as completed. \"Level one - Approximate personhood\". I doubt the other people trying to keep humans as pets would appreciate my work. To others humans were just pets, not people. But I wasn't interested in keeping pets. I was interested in finding out what they could grow into, given the right circumstances. Besides, it's not like I needed anyone's permission.\n\nHumans fundamentally lacked the ability to conceptualize anything other than the basic layers of reality. My guess was that they would struggle around level 4 or 5. Level 4 - Coexisting in a hivemind larger than the laws of physics allowed for thoughts to travel from one side of the hivemind to the other before individuality naturally emerged in the opposite end. Level 5 - Surpassing the biological limits imposed from a fragmented spacetime spectrum. And so on. But I was eager to let humanity try its best to overcome the challenges placed before them.\n\nAll together there were over a thousand levels of tests, each requiring increasingly esoteric thinking and, to a human, alien ways of approaching the world around them. Humanity's ability to escape any enclosure would be tested in the extreme. I was sceptic, but hopeful. And in my most private moments I wondered what it would mean if humanity made it to the end.\n\nWhat would I have made them into?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: Every time you die your consciousness is transported to an alternate universe and you forget everything before that. However, after your most recent death, your memories have been unlocked." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I scream and scream and scream and scream.\n\nImages flash through my mind. Fire, burning, melting my flesh until it turns black and curls off my bones. Water, pouring, enveloping and wrapping around my body like a second skin. It forms a layer less than an inch thick, but when I try to reach clear air, it moves with me like a living thing. Tentacles wrap around my neck, crushing my windpipe until I’m unable to even wheeze. Dogs—or something like dogs, they have too many legs—tear me to pieces, their fur dyed red by the spray of my blood. I fall through empty space. Gravity pulls me down, but no air whistles around me to slow my descent.\n\nTen million deaths over a hundred million lifetimes. All of them return to me in an instant. I’m unaware of my knees buckling until I’m already on the floor. At some point my throat goes raw and a soft moan is the only sound I’m able to make. Days pass. Eons. Eternities. It doesn’t matter. A man stands above me. Recognition sparks somewhere in the back of my mind, but the errant thought is crushed under the weight of my pain.\n\n“Thirty more seconds. Another ten thousand, and we’ll cut it off. Hopefully this time we’ll get some results.”\n\nThe words echo through death after death after death. Beyond a certain point they lose all meaning. They are shapeless noise, and carry no more importance than the low hum of the generator in the background.\n\nThe pain fades. I return to myself, feel the coolness of the metal floor on my cheek. The sensation triggers half a billion similar memories. Some of them are moments of death, most are not. Even the most painful recollections do not cause the same reaction as before. They’re just memories now. Bad memories, yes, but I can’t feel the metal walls crushing my bones to dust as I could a moment before.\n\n“Lazarus? Are you still with us?”\n\nLanguage takes on meaning again. Along with the ten million lifetimes etched into my brain, the memories of the last few minutes start to come back as well.\n\n“I think so.” I hear a relieved sigh from the man above. His name is Eddie. I’ve known him my entire life. This life, anyway.\n\n“And…take all the time you need, but…did you get what you needed?”\n\nI take the time to scan through the knowledge of lifetimes. Far, far too many. I’m aware that I shouldn’t be able to hold this much information in my mind as I look. It’s an uncomfortable sensation, but already the farthest echoes of my past are fading. I must be quick to save the most important pieces.\n\n“Possibly. There was one timeline, ten thousand years ago from my perspective, pretty similar to this one. I think—no they did solve it. I was eighty-five years old when they announced that they’d found a way to reduce carbon levels in the atmosphere.”\n\n“And? How did they do it?” His voice is excited. A tremor runs through me as I recall the death of this lifetime. A wasting disease that shut down my organs one by one. Not the worst I’d ever experienced, but certainly not an enjoyable way to go.”\n\n“Lazarus?” Eddie’s insistence brings me back to the present.\n\n“Some application of hydroneum. It’s an element that doesn’t exist here. Not viable.”\n\n“Damn.” Eddie’s disappointment is palpable. “This is going on three days now. It’s the longest a problem has ever taken, right? I’m really sorry, but do you think you can handle one more session today?”\n\nI close my eyes. He said that before the last session, too.\n\n“Maybe you should give it a try, Eddie.”\n\n“Oh, no.” The large man backpedals quickly. He holds up his hands. “I haven’t had nearly as many timelines as you. I’m certain they never beat climate change in any of mine.”\n\nAnd there it is. Even my godfather—my handler—was unwilling to take my place. The machine above me could bring back the memories of every timeline for any person, but what was the point in causing so much pain for so many people when you could condense all of it into the oldest human alive?\n\nI sigh and stand up from the floor, sitting back in the machine. If I stop here today, it will just mean another session tomorrow. Eddie looks up and gives the word, and the pain begins again." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: you run a department that takes in souls of dead people, recycles them, and sends out souls to be born. Unfortunately souls are a finite resource, and stockpiles are about to run out due to longer lifespans and more births." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The light was blinding, illuminating massive rooms all gleaming in white. The light bounced off every surface, making its rounds past cabinets and conveyer belts, showers and stockpiles. It struck every surface, and was quite happy doing so until it caught sight of a figure dressed in black and halted abruptly.\n\nDeath looked around with a slight frown tugging at his mouth. He paced down the main walkway that led off to hundreds of other corridors. Several workers in their white robes passed him, and yet none would meet his eye. He sighed. This quiet just wouldn’t do.\n\nDeath strode off down a side corridor, past the offices of Gabriel and Uriel, of Artemis and Hera; they had already made their ways to the conference room. The halls echoed with the sharp clicks of his shoes, his pace increasing as his irritation gnawed at him. He hadn’t seen an employee for seven corridors now. Surely, they hadn’t had to let this many people go. He hardly enjoyed the company of those saintly beings, but the halls were never meant to be this quiet. Death’s face darkened as he approached a set of glass doors and reached to adjust his suit before he stormed in.\n\nThey were all there. Gabriel and Uriel were making their ways through the angels, murmuring agreements and concerns with them. Artemis and Hera looked stoically toward the demigods that shifted nervously. One caught sight of the young man entering and nudged his neighbors. Silence quickly fell over the room.\n\n“So,” drawled Death, locking eyes with each of the four managers in turn. “Which one of you summoned me? And tell me, what did you do, exactly? Fire half the staff?” His voice stayed dangerously low as he continued. “Half the conveyor belts aren’t running. The storage room is running low of souls, and the birthing room is quiet. Didn’t I just send you enough souls to fill this place to the brim? If the recyclers let all the souls escape, I-”\n\n“Brother,” boomed Gabriel. The room seemed to have the air sucked out of it as the employees backed into each other uncertainly.\n\nNo one had ever dared interrupt Death, who had turned to face Gabriel with fire in his eyes. “Ah yes, Brother. Do proceed.\"\n\n“You are right to be angry. We should have notified you directly of this problem when it first appeared,” started Gabriel. “We thought it would fix itself, but Hera and Artemis insist that the birthing rate will be remaining steady, if not increasing. And, well-”\n\n“We need more souls,” sneered another voice that belonged to the hunched, bony figure staggering into the room.\n\n“Hades. What a pleasant surprise.” Death briefly lamented the fact that looks couldn’t kill. “Tell me. What happened to the souls I send in every day?”\n\n“There aren’t enough. You’re letting the humans live far too long, Death. The rate of stillbirths is rising. The recyclers have no souls to transfer. The staff have little work to do.” Quiet murmurs of agreement started up around the room.\n\n“I see,” said Death, looking around. He sighed internally, knowing what was coming. He'd hoped he’d escaped those dreaded years-long shifts for good. Death looked toward the Greek goddesses, who nodded imperceptibly.\n\n“We have spoken to Ares and Gadreel,” said Artemis. “Summon your reapers. We are going to war.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: You are a father in a bind. Not because you're King of the Merfolk but because your daughter, who's set to be wed in a few months, refuses to unless her spouse is human. So, you reluctantly travel up to land and snatch the first adult human you see. What could possibly go wrong, right?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "King Triton grumbled the whole two hours it took to reach the surface. He could still feel the ringing of his daughter's screams and cries in his brain.\n\n\"You are to be wed by your 22nd birthday, Emelia, you have to choose a suitor!\" King Triton attempted to explain to his youngest daughter. To anyone else, that booming voice would immediately strike fear and capitulation in their hearts, even the mightiest warriors of the seven seas. But not his daughter. No, somehow this petite, small framed, delicate guppy was able to match his fiery glare with her own. \"You only have three months to decide!\"\n\n\"I have told you time and time again, father. I. Will. Not. Marry. Unless. He. Is. Human.\" Emelia had retaliated. And she had said this before, but King Triton had believed it to be a dream or a stage in her life that she would get over. But with the promised day looking closer, he could not afford to take anymore chances.\n\nThe daughter of the King's marriage was a tradition that was more out of necessity than consistency. Once a mermaid princess got married, the newfound bond would be so powerful that it would replenish the Kingdom's energy for several decades.\n\nThis year's was especially important to King Triton and his Queen Myranda, who after seven unsuccessful attempts to have a daughter, were finally blessed with their beautiful Emelia. Not that he didn't love his seven sons, but his daughter being born was admittedly the best day of his life. It was no secret that he treated her specially compared to the rest of his children, bending to her every whim and giving her everything she asked for. Emelia grew to be a wonderful girl, kind and loved by all, but she kept her spoiled streak whenever it came to her father. King Triton had never questioned it and allowed her to do as she pleased without opposition. That was until she began to demand her groom be human. Now, he silently cursed himself for all those years he showed away from being assertive. If he had known back then he would be swimming to the surface world to grab a husband for his daughter, he would most definitely have scolded her once or twice.\n\nKing Triton burst through the surface of the sea and looked around. His eyes were getting old, he noticed. He had to squint in order to see the beach that was a couple hundred miles south of where he was. He immediately swam to shore, and as he got closer he could see hordes of humans walking aimlessly like the brainless creatures they were. What did Emelia see in these things anyway? How were they in any way superior to the merfolk she was surrounded by?\n\nHe arrived at the beach, towering over the tiny specks that could only stare at him, mouths agape like the merfolk's primitive neighbors, the upper level fish. His eyes barely scanned the crowd before he reached his hand down and grabbed the nearest human.\n\n\"Enar han Calum, ingar.\" King Triton's voice boomed as he dragged the human away from two of the female species and dragged it back into the sea. He began to swim back down when he realized the human thrashing in a panicked state. Oh right, Triton remembered, they can't breathe underwater, can they? Come to think of it, the water pressure where his Kingdom resided would instantly crush a human. Rolling his eyes, King Triton waved his hand, casting a spell that allowed the man to obtain a temporary merman body.\n\n\"Katar Calum.\" The confused look on the human's face reminded Triton to cast the translation spell. \"I said, I am King Triton. Can you understand me now, human?\" He repeated, his words dripping with annoyance. To that, the man could only nod, bewildered. \"Good. Come along.\"\n\nStill gripping the man in his hands, Triton started back down to his kingdom. \"As I was saying, you have been chosen to be the princess's groom. Be grateful.\"\n\n\"Woah, woah, what?\" The man responded. \"I don't mean to be rude and I'm sure the princess is a lovely girl but-\"\n\n\"Do you dare to reject the princess?\" Against his better judgement, Triton's voice thundered with anger, almost blowing the human away. If he rejected the princess, then Triton could use that as an excuse and find a suitable merman for her instead.\n\n\"No, no, no ,no, no I didn't mean that. See, thing is, I'm not really a one woman guy. I'm not ready to settle down yet.\" The man defended himself quickly. Triton took time to examine the man. To him, all humans looked like beasts, but by human standards, the man could pass as attractive. He had silky black hat, which was rare amongst the merfolk, and a healthy build.\n\n\"Worry not, human. She will likely come to tolerate you.\"\n\n\"Uh, that's not exactly what I meant. And by the way, my name's Austin, not human.\"\n\nTriton harrumphed. \"I feeble name for a feeble creature.\"\n\n\"Yeah, sure.\" The human, Austin remarked. For the rest of the journey to the Kingdom, the two were silent, topics of conversation exhausted. At least, that's what Triton wished for. Instead, the human Austin would continue to talk his ear off about why he should be returned to the surface world. Excuse after excuse came barrelling out of his mouth, and King Triton was one sentence away from reversing his translation spell as they approached the throne room.\n\n\"Send for princess Emelia.\" Triton ordered to a guard, who was distracted by the presence of a human.\n\n\"Now, the main problem is the legs. See, mermaids don't have legs and I kind of need my women to have legs.\"\n\n\"Now what's so special about your weak human legs? A tail is clearly superior in every fashion.\"\n\n\"Seriously? Dude, if you let me go back to my apartment I can show you some mags that-\" but by then, Triton understood exact what he meant.\n\n\"You insolent...! You don't deserve to even look at Emelia let alone marry her!\" Triton's eyes blazed a bright red. Instantly, a large, solid gold trident appeared in his hand. He turned the pointed side at the human Austin. \"If you were wiser you could have avoided this.\" Austin closed his eyes frightfully, bracing himself as much as he could for the pain.\n\n\"Daddy stop!\" Princess Emelia burst through the doors of the throne room, hurtling in between the two men. \"You finally get me a human and now you want to kill him before you give him to me?\" She puffed out stubbornly. Despite his anger, Triton could not help but think how adorable his little girl was.\n\n\"Darling, this man is no good. This is why I say you should choose from one of your suitors! There are many fine mermen who would gladly-\"\n\n\"No, he's perfect!\" She exclaimed, then turned around to look at the human Austin in amazement. \"He's more than perfect.\" Emelia hugged her father, who's anger had now simmered down. \"Thank you, Daddy. But don't try to kill him again.\"\n\nTriton smiled brightly seeing his little girl brimming with joy, but as soon as she swam away with the human Austin in tow, he slumped down in his throne, defeated.\n\n\"What have I done?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: I'm in love with my Scrabble partner." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "It started off simply. Anonymous matching, no chat window - we just played. My first word was \"frost\" - not brilliant, only sixteen points, but not bad for a first try. She hit back with \"rough\".\n\nIt was the best game I'd ever played. Not just because it was my highest score to date, but because of the competition. Normally, in Scrabble, one person pulls ahead. By about half way through, you know who's going to win. They hit a few triples early on, and then it's hard to catch up. That wasn't the case this time.\n\nIt was neck-and-neck, right up until the end. She was good - the best I'd ever played - but I was on fire as well. Word after word slammed down: \"zeugma\", \"entrails\", \"basenji\". I ended up two points ahead, but didn't celebrate. I just clicked \"rematch\".\n\nI'd enjoyed scrabble before, but now I was obsessed. At home on the couch, on the metro, even surreptitiously at my desk, I was playing scrabble. I'd check the app obsessively, hoping she'd responded. While I was waiting, I'd doodle endlessly, trying to come up with the best possible combination. I didn't want just to win, I wanted to impress her.\n\nWe played game after game, for months. Neither of us ever pulled ahead by more than a couple of victories in a row, and every game was close. I learnt new words every day, beautiful words that I would never use outside scrabble: \"euoi\", or \"cwm\". I learnt to say them, too, researching pronunciation while waiting for my next turn.\n\nShe was amazing. So knowledgeable, so creative with her words. And every time we interacted, there was that pulse-pounding, heart-racing buzz of competition, of challenge. It's no wonder I became curious about her.\n\nI used to picture her in my head, imagining my opponent. It changed all the time, flicking through a thousand possibilities with nothing concrete to fix on. It didn't matter to me what she looked like, really, I just wanted to know more about her. Finally, I cracked. First round of a new game, I threw away a perfectly good \"embark\" to just write \"name\".\n\nThe response was \"apple\". Not the most auspicious start. Perhaps she'd misunderstood, or didn't want to tell me, or just didn't have the letters for her name - maybe it was \"Tallulah\", or \"Eustacia\".\n\nFour turns later, I realised - \"apple\", \"not\", \"never\", \"else\": an acrostic.\n\nAnne.\n\nFrom there, I asked more questions. Not enough to cost me the game, or stop it being challenging, but if I had the letters to ask something - \"age\" (within five years of mine) or \"job\" (nurse) or \"pets\" (dog) - then I would. It took a little imagination - there was always the worry that she lacked the relevant letters, or that a question was understood as a word, not an enquiry. Still, over the passing of further months, I was able to ask (and answer) each question several times. I thought of repeated, relevant words within a few turns of the question as confirmed answers, slowly building up my knowledge of her.\n\n\"Where\" was a question I waited for a long time to ask. Partly because \"w\" and \"h\" didn't come up together that often, and partly because I knew it would change things. If she was half the world away, then all we could ever do was play scrabble. I wanted to meet her, but I almost didn't want to know if I couldn't. It would be better to have the dream than no hope at all.\n\nHer answer, when I finally asked, was an acrostic again. Luck was on my side, because she was able to name it straight away - no abbreviation, no waiting for a reply. \"leg\", \"oaf\", \"newt\", \"dig\", \"oval\", \"new\". London. The same city as me.\n\nIt was a shock. Not in a bad way, but a shock nevertheless. It suddenly all became real. She wasn't just the anonymous person I played scrabble with, but Anne - a living, breathing person living not too far away. I didn't respond for a while.\n\nI just stared - stared at the words on the board, stared at the possibilities they conjured up. She was real, and close. The woman I'd been dreaming about, imagining for over a year now. She actually existed. We could actually meet.\n\nMy hands were shaking as I dragged each tile into place. \"Meeting.\"\n\nIt was her turn now not to respond. I checked it every minute, for two days. I was reprimanded at work for losing focus. I didn't go swimming that week, because she might have responded, and I wouldn't have known until I'd finished. Still no reply.\n\nAnd then, after endless, agitated waiting, her word appeared: \"absolutely\", building off my \"lute\" and hitting two triple word scores. 135 points.\n\nShe won the game. I didn't mind." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: The prophecy guaranteed that it would not be a man that defeated the Demon King. So, how could it be that he was selected as the hero? He... was a man right? Right!?" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The demon king reclined on a throne of ivory. He knew his time on earth was soon to end, so rather than wasting time conquering and corrupting, he was having some me-time. Eating pomegranates, watching television and practicing his most rudest death pose. He was caught between a two fingered double salute and running away to make it look like a war crime. The former would maximise his vanquisher's ire, while the latter might make them feel guilty, and would aggrivate their war trauma. Maybe he'd beg for his life. That one always put a damper on rightous demon vanquishing. All too soon he smelt the burn of his door being dismantled with a lazer chainsword. He sighed, turned off the television and sat up straight on his throne. He tryed his best to look intimidating. The hero sized cutout that had been carved in his door fell flat, and from the hole stepped a tall man with sholder length bubblegum pink hair. \"PREPARE TO DIE DEMON SCUM!\" he shouted.\n\n\"What?\" said the demon lord, completely agast. He stared at the man. The man was wearing hot pink thigh length high heel boots, a flowing hello kitty skirt and a pristine white blouse with shiny brass buttons. The laser chainsword was also hot pink. \"I SAID IT'S TIME TO DIE\" he shouted. \"No, I heard you, I mean what are you WEARING?\" the demon lord demanded. The hero looked down at his outfit. Admired his sleeve. \"My demon slaying dress\" he responded proudly. \"Why do you slay demons in a dress?\" Asked the demon lord. \"Why not in chainmail? Or plate mail? Or in motorbiking gear? Or in litterally anything that would provide a modicum of protection?\" - \"Armor is unladylike\" he said with absolute confidence. \"Um, No\" said the demon lord. \"That's not how anything works. What in hell would give you that idea?\". A look of horror crept over the hero's face as he realized that turning up here in the dress was entirely optional. He quickly surpressed it.\n\n\"Also, and I probably should have lead with this, why are you dressed as a woman? Was the chosen hero your sister whom you're trying to protect or something?\" the demon lord enquired. \"No, I'm the chosen hero\" he said. \"Then why are you dressed like a woman?\" Asked the demon lord. \"Well it's the prophecy innit? No man may slay the demon king.\" replied the hero. \"Aye\" answered the demon lord, \"his slayer shall be beyond God, beyond nature\" - \"That's me\" said the hero, \"beyond God and nature\". The demon lord began rubbing his temples. \"Beyond nature just means beyond all human limits, like Usain Bolt. You know your religion has some pretty disturbing ideas about transgender people, right?\" he said. The hero took a deep breath, preparing to defend his community and kin, then remembered he really didn't have an argument so just sighed \"Ya, I kinda noticed that\".\n\nThey sat in awkward silence for about a minute. \"So I don't need the dress then?\" said the hero. \"You do not, replied the demon lord. They sat in silence for another 30 seconds. \"You look good in the dress\" said the demon lord. \"Damn right I do\" said the hero assertively, and smiled a bit. \"So do you like being like this? What should I call you? He? She?\" asked the demon lord. The hero shrugged. \"The dress is comfey. The hair feels nice when it's billowing out in the breeze behind me, though the maintenence is a pain. As for what to call me, honestly anything's an upgrade from 'it'\" he said. \"Oh wow, your religion has REALLY messed up ideas about transgender people. Why do you fight for them anyway?\" he asked. \"Y'know, head priest says you got to fight a demon lord, can't say no can you?\". The demon lord shook his head in disgust.\n\n\"Screw those guys. They tell you you have to fight a demon lord, then you have to not be a man to do it, then treat you like dirt for doing what they say. Why, when you turn up with my head, they'll probably yell at you for doing that wrong too! Come on. Forget about slaying the demon lord. Let's play halo instead.\" suggested the demon lord. The hero again raised a finger in protest, then realizing he had no real argument, climbed up on the arm of the ivory throne, and took a controller." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: A ghost that has lived alone in your former home for many years is surprised to hear that someone had bought their home; a small family with 2 parents & 1 baby girl. The ghost makes it their purpose to protect this little girl as she grows up." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The realtor tried to talk Jim and Christine out of seeing the house. \"It's on and off the market all the time; people live there two, maybe three months, and they sell it again. I don't know why, and they never say, but I have a bad feeling about it.\"\n\nThe young couple, who had just had their first child, Michaela, insisted on seeing the home listed $50k under the property value. Jim was a construction manager after all, and anything wrong with the house could be easily spotted and fixed for pennies on the dollar.\n\nThe house was gorgeous. Four bedrooms, three baths, huge backyard (for a dog maybe?), and an unfinished dry basement. It was everything they wanted, and at a price they couldn't beat. The realtor warned them one last time that previous owners had abandoned the house quickly after taking ownership; something had to be wrong.\n\nBut the family commissioned a thorough inspection and everything checked out. In a week, they signed all the papers and beamed with pride in a Facebook picture holding up keys to their first house.\n\nThe little boy who had lived in the house 50 years previously did not appreciate his old room painted pink or the strangers sleeping where his parents slept. Where were his parents, by the way? When were they coming back? He thought on this a lot as he waited patiently in the basement, like Mom told him he should.\n\nThankfully, he knew how to protect the house. He had spent so much time with it, after all, it had become more of an extension of himself; his body, really, since he had lost his own so long ago. Where did that go? Did Mom take it with her?\n\nHe had plans for this new couple; these two beautiful people who had stolen his ancestral home. In the dead of night, when the world was black, the boy walked down the upstairs hallway, planting his ghostly feet on every creaking board on his way to the master bedroom. With a finger nail, he scraped along along the wall, causing a tearing sound, loud enough to get attention but quiet enough to question whether it had been happening at all.\n\nFrom his old room there was a noise. It was one he hadn't heard in a long time. The baby was crying. It wasn't an angry cry or a pained cry, but one of loneliness and the need to be held. The boy stopped in his tracks and listened.\n\nIn the master bedroom he heard whispering.\n\n\"No, go back to sleep. I'll get her.\"\n\nThe man walked out of the room wearing a t-shirt and shorts, his eyes barely open and his hair a funny mess. He walked right past the ghostly boy and into his room.\n\n\"Oh, Meeka, Meeka Meeka, it's okay. Shhhh, It's okay. Daddy's here. I bet you're hungry, huh? Let's get you some food.\"\n\nThe man walked out of the room and past the boy again, but this time he was carrying the little baby. Meeka.\n\nThe boy followed the two down the stairs and into the kitchen, where the man placed a bottle into a small device that steamed its contents before retrieving the bottle again and giving it to the voracious baby who gripped it with both little hands.\n\n\"That's my Meeka monkey!\" The tired man smiled.\n\nThe boy watched as the man walked around the kitchen, singing off-key songs and doing silly dances with the baby. After the bottle was finished, the man put Meeka over his shoulder and patted her until she audibly belched. after that, it wasn't long until the baby dozed back to sleep and the man returned her to her room.\n\nThe boy watched the whole thing with fascination, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't want the homeowners to leave. What would his mother say if she knew he threw out a baby?\n\nThe boy watched the family every night. Sometimes the mom would come get the baby, but usually it was the dad. Both parents sang to Meeka, fed Meeka, and played silly games with the baby in the middle of the night. The boy wished he could play with them too; sit on the dad's lap... have a funny nickname.\n\nOne night, as the boy waited in the hallway for the baby to wake up and for the parents to tend to her, he heard a rattling downstairs. He floated down the hallway and into the foyer. Through the frosted glass panes of the front door, he saw three men, masks over their face and hoods over their heads, inserting a screwdriver in the door's lock.\n\nWith a loud snap, the lock broke, and the door slowly opened. The three men moved quietly, heads pivoting in every direction. One of the men was holding a length of rope and duct tape while another was holding a knife.\n\n\"Get the family,\" the first man whispered to the knife holder.\n\nThe boy realized then what they intended to do: hurt the family and take their things. They might harm mom and dad and Meeka. In fact, it seemed like that's what they were heading upstairs to do.\n\nThe boy floated upstairs through the floors before the first man could reach the top. He went into the parent's room, where mom and dad were sleeping soundly, not having heard the lock break downstairs.\n\n\"Wake up! Wake up!\" The boy said to dad, shaking him furiously.\n\nHe woke up and looked around the dark room. \"Did you say something?\" He asked mom.\n\n\"Hmm?\" She replied in her sleepy voice.\n\n\"I thought I heard something.\"\n\nThe boy turned the bedroom light on, jolting the man out of the bed and stopping the intruders as they reached the top of the stairs.\n\n\"Turn it off!\" Moaned mom.\n\n\"I didn't turn it on!\" He told her. Sleepily, he headed to the light switch, located near the bedroom door and reached to turn it off when he spotted the masked man at the end of the hallway." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: All your life fortune has been balanced with misfortune: break a shoelace and find a dollar, get a big promotion and lose a relationship. For your birthday, someone has bought you a lottery ticket." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Susan turned the shiny coin over in her hand.\n\n\"A gold coin? Where'd you get that?\" her fiance Frank asked.\n\n\"I inherited it a year ago from the family estate. It belonged to my great, great, great, probably not actually that great grand uncle Pate.\"\n\n\"Oh? I thought your sister Theresa got that.\"\n\n\"How did you know that? Anyway, she didn't want it. She said it was cursed. After her skiing accident she gave it to me.\"\n\n\"That skiing accident wasn't a curse. Trees fall all the time. She survived, didn't she? The reconstructive surgery made her face much better than before in my opinion. If the coin is cursed, then are you carrying out with you?\"\n\n\"When did you see... Anyway, I think it's lucky. Or maybe incredibly unlucky, I don't know.\n\nI had it with me when I got that promotion and when I met you, but I also had it with me during the car accident and the water buffalo attack.\"\n\n\"Could have happened to anyone. You only lost one leg. I'd say it's a lucky coin. Here, I'll go buy you a lottery ticket to prove it.\"\n\n\"I don't know if it's such a good idea...\" Susan said.\n\n\"Sure it is, we probably won't win anyway.\" Frank said as he walked out the front door.\n\nSusan went to stop him, but tripped on her own foot and sent herself sprawling into the ground.\n\nWith her new perspective she noticed her favorite earring under the front hall table.\n\n\"I thought I had lost that forever,\" she said as she crawled over to get it.\n\nAs she reached for it, she bumped the lamp off of the table. It crashed down on the large spider that was about to crawl into her.\n\nSusan stared at the mess, then decided to lock herself in her room until Frank got back.\n\nThe hours later, Frank entered the room with the ticket.\n\n\"Right, here's the ticket.\"\n\nSusan looked at it like it was about to explode.\n\n\"Honey, it's a piece of paper. Here, they're going to announce the winning number right now.\" He turned on the TV.\n\n\"That's suspiciously convenient.\" Susan said.\n\n\"These things happen\" Frank replied.\n\n\"The winning lottery numbers are,\" the voice on the TV said. The voice proceeded to read off all of the numbers on the ticket Frank had bought.\n\n\"We won!\" Frank said.\n\n\"Oh no!\" Susan said.\n\n\"What do you mean? Nothing bad is going to happen.\"\n\n\"Yes it will, I think this coin is cursed.\"\n\n\"That coin is lucky! We'll stay here tonight if it worries you. We'll go to the lottery office tomorrow.\"\n\n\"Fine,\" Susan said. She placed the coin on her night stand and went to sleep.\n\nIn the morning, the radio alarm woke Susan up. Frank was nowhere to be found.\n\nHe saw a note on the dresser.\n\n\"Sorry babe, Theresa and I have gone off on a little vacation to the Dominican Republic. We've been a thing ever since her accident. Sorry to tell you this way.\n\nFrank\"\n\nSusan was furious. It was the coin. She would destroy the thing. And Frank. And Theresa.\n\nShe looked over at the night stand. It was empty.\n\n\"...freak accident,\" the radio said. \"It appears that someone on the plane tripped on something and managed to somehow open the emergency door.\"\n\n\"In the air?\" Another radio voice said.\n\n\"Yep,\" said the first voice. \"Two people, a man and a woman, were sucked out of the plane somewhere between here and the Dominican Republic.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Far in the future, the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster is the world's leading religion. A Pastafarian discovers its satyrical origins." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Ludwig strolled down the large red-tiled hallway, hands behind his back and his long pink robe kissing the ground as he made his way towards the great doors of Penne.\n\nIt was only at the halls of Penne where the common people were allowed to participate in the annual spaghetti fights. The ministerons could fight to their heart's desire wherever they pleased.\n\nLudwig stopped in front of the great doors.\n\nHe loathed this for it was not the original way people used to worship the great Spag. He was certain of it! Yet nobody believed him when he talked to them about it. Some even threatened to have him walk the plank.\n\nWalking the plank litteraly meant what it said by the way. You had to walk over a plank that people would place on the floor. Terrible.\n\nLudwig sighed deeply and pushed open the doors.\n\nThe sound of a hundred screaming people filled his ears.\n\n\"Take that ya bastard!\", a pirate-like guy screamed. Followed by an equally pirate-like guy getting hit with a handful of spaghetti.\n\nLudwig didn't really have a lot of time to think about it as he barely managed to dodge some spaghetti thrown at himself.\n\nYou see this shit? He thought to himself. There is no way the great Spag would require us to do this. No way!\n\nHe angrily made his way towards a green door at the other side of the hall, careful not to get hit.\n\nA woman with a colander on her head took hold of his arm as he was passing by.\n\n\"Fancy a meatball?\" she inquired.\n\n\"Can't you see I'm busy being angry, lady?!\". Ludwig tried to look even more angry than before which resulted in a rather funny sight.\n\nHe shook his arm loose and continued his stride. The woman caught up to him and strode besides him.\n\n\"What's rubbing you wrong matey?\". She looked amused.\n\n\"Everything.\"\n\n\"Hmm?\"\n\n\"Everything.\"\n\n\"I don't get it.\"\n\n\"That's fine.\"\n\nThe lady frowned as Ludwig opened the door. \"You know we're not allowed in there, right?\"\n\n\"It's okay, I'm a ministeron.\"\n\n\"Yeah that's a lie. You're not even wearing underwear on your head.\"\n\n\"Look. Lady. Will you stop following me already?\"\n\nShe seemed to think about that question for a while, then shrugged and kept on following him.\n\nThe room was as dark as a piece of black paper asides from the lit candles resting on numerous tables across the room.\n\nAfter Ludwig's eyes were adjusted to the darkness he searched his pockets for a small yellow key. As soon as he found it, he directed his attention to distinguishing the many items scattered on the ground.\n\nThe lady was looking around with the curiousity of a rather curious cat.\n\n\"Wow...\" She exclaimed in amazement.\n\n\"This would be so impressive if I could actually see what's in here!\"\n\n\"Aha!\" Ludwig shouted in excitement!\n\n\"You agree?\"\n\n\"What?.. No! No, I found what I was searching for. This is fantastic!\"\n\n\"Oh.\"\n\nLudwig showed her a small leather-wrapped case with a lock on it.\n\nAfter smiling like a fool, he took the yellow key, put it in the lock and gave it a quarter turn.\n\nClick.\n\nAs the case opened both Ludwig and the Lady gasped in anticipation.\n\n\"I can't see anything.\" The lady remarked.\n\nLudwig ignored her comment and moved a candle closer.\n\nIn the case there was a single letter which was signed by... Flying Spaghetti Monster...\n\nLudwig's world became black for a moment.\n\nThe lady took the letter and tried reading it.\n\n\"Ehm... mister fake ministeron? What does sotire mean?\"\n\nLudwig was trying to keep his balance by holding on to one of the nearby tables.\n\n\"He's...\" his voice was sore. \"He's not real...\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You are what you eat. And you haven't been human in a long time." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I should have listened to that old woman at the grocery store. She'd tapped me on the shoulder and pointed at my basket with the simple clichéd phrase \"You are what you eat, you know.\"\n\nI thought she looked a little like a witch with her big nose, numerous warts, and long, bony fingers, but I never thought she'd put an actual curse on me just because I had a lot of bacon and sausage in my basket.\n\nI liked my breakfast meats, okay? How was I supposed to know I'd wake up as a literal pig?\n\nI mean, life as a pig wasn't too bad, after I'd gotten through the confusion and denial stages. At least I'd woken up as a pig on a free-range farm. I know some pigs had it much worse. Every day the farmer let us pigs wander through the apple orchards, eating fallen fruit and fertilizing the trees for him. Of course I had formed multiple escape plans should the day of my slaughter eventually arrive, but I had shelter and food so I was content for the time being.\n\nAt least I was until that bit...witch, yes, that's the word, until that witch showed up again. I knew she recognized me the moment she saw me. I don't know how, but she did.\n\nShe smirked at me and said \"Still living the good life, eh? Don't forget my words, now. You are what you eat!\"\n\nI snorted at her. I regret that now, but at the time I thought she surely couldn't do anything worse to me.\n\nI was very, very wrong.\n\nThe next time I woke up, it was with the sunrise. I couldn't see it. I didn't seem to have eyes anymore, but I could feel it on my body and my limbs. My many, many, extremely heavy limbs. I couldn't move; I couldn't speak; I couldn't seem to do anything, and yet the sunlight continued filling me with a sort of sweet, gentle energy. I didn't understand what was happening until I heard the familiar voice of the farmer from my pig days.\n\n\"Alright boys, let's get these apples picked!\"\n\nI was an apple tree. Getting my apples plucked from my limbs was painful, like getting multiple needles in your arm, but the pain was temporary and finally my heavy limbs felt lighter.\n\nIf that was my life now, I guessed it was going to be okay.\n\nWrong again.\n\n\"You are what you eat, remember?\" I couldn't see her, but I knew that voice anywhere. I couldn't respond either, so I just braced myself for whatever was coming next for me in this absurd chain of events.\n\nFire. Everything was hot and my inner vision whited out from an overload of bright light. I could feel little tugs of gravity going all around me in never ending circles, which tickled a little.\n\nOf course. Plants needed sunlight to survive. Naturally, I was now the sun. In a mild panic I thought of what the sun ate. Gas? Helium, maybe?\n\nIt didn't matter. No matter what suns consume, this is my life now. I thrashed around as much as I could in frustration and boredom, sending solar flares all over my little planets. Human life destroyed itself a long time ago now; all that's left is me, this little ball of burning gas, being circled eternally by chunks of dead rock, slowly eating away at myself until one day I burn out.\n\nBut nothing matters now, right? This is the last stop for me. You are what you eat after all, and I've finally reached the end of the food chain." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: After mastering interstellar travel humanity eventually comes across a planet teaming with sentient life forms. They discover upon exploration that they have active deities. They then come to realize these deities are former deities of Earth. They try and pretend they don’t know about humans." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The crew walked down the street, following the small blue creature that was almost too happy to guide them. He cheerfully pointed out the various buildings and their importance. The deep history of his people and how the city had stood for thousands of years.\n\nThe human crew took it all in stride. It was a nice city. Very nice stonework, and the art was very nice, even by human standards. One of the crew members, Dan, thought he even saw a passing resemblance to ancient Greek or Roman architecture, with their use of pillars and carvings above the entryways. He did not say anything, since it was probably just a coincidence.\n\n\"And here we come to the most important part of the city.\" The guide said. \"The great temple district.\"\n\n\"Temple district?\" The team leader, Mark, said. \"Didn't think you Semarians were that religious.\"\n\n\"Of course we pay homage to the gods. Without them, life would be far worse than it is.\"\n\n\"Really? We humans have mostly phased out religion.\"\n\nThe Semarian looked shocked. This involved sticking the two long antennae-like things on its head straight up. \"Why would you do such a thing? I cannot even begin to imagine what your gods think of such a thing.\"\n\nThe team looked at each other. \"You act like gods are real.\" Dan said.\n\n\"Of course they are.\" The guide said. \"If you're lucky, you might even see one. Look, there's the temple of Dionari, god of the feast and alcohol. And there is the temple of Hephar, god of flame and forge. There are many of them, you know.\"\n\nThere was something about those names. Even those not aware of old Earth culture heard it.\n\n\"Say, uh, the leader of your pantheon wouldn't happen to be the god of thunder, or many lightning, would it?\" Dan asked.\n\n\"Indeed he is. Mighty Zerus. Do not get on his bad side. I would say keep your females away, but since you're so ugly, that shouldn't be a problem.\"\n\nThe two women, Mary and Penny, grumbled, but did not say anything. They had to force themselves to remember that different species meant different beauty standards.\n\n\"And is he married to the goddess of womanhood and childbirth?\" Dan continued.\n\n\"That is correct. Hevra, is her name. Don't forget it. She can be...unpleasant is slighted. How did you know? I thought this was your first time on our planet.\"\n\n\"It is.\" Mark said. \"We just... it's complicated. Say, is there any way we can meet these gods of yours?\"\n\n\"Only if one of...ah! It looks like you're in luck. Althera, goddess of wisdom and war, has come to greet her followers.\"\n\nOne of the larger temples showed a bustling of activity. The Semarians were gathering excitedly. Suddenly, a bright golden light appeared, nearly blinding all those in attendance. When it vanished, a new being stood there. It looked like a Semarian female, only moreso. Like an ideal of their kind. She bore fine armor, and carried a shield that seemed to pulse with power. On her shoulder was a creature the team had learned was the metaphorical equivalent of the owl.\n\nThe goddess scanned the crowed with a relaxed, regal posture. The natives all bowed deeply to the goddess. The humans, however, did not. This let Althera see them easily. She stiffened and her posture faltered for a moment. She quickly regained her composure though.\n\n\"My loyal followers,\" she stared. She gave the people a fine piece of oratory, saying she was pleased with them and their works in her honor. And the people ate it up. \"And it seems like we have guests today.\" She said. \"Guests the likes of which I have never seen before.\" She put unusual emphasis on her last sentence. \"I bid you welcome to our city. May you feel as welcome here as you would in your own home. And now, as is custom, you all may seek an audience with me until I am called back by duty.\"\n\nThe goddess turned and entered her temple. The moment she was gone, the crowd launched into motion. Semarians almost trampled each other to get in line. It took a great deal of effort for the law enforcement agents and temple staff to get the crowd to settle into some kind of order.\n\n\"Oh, this is a great day!\" The guide said. \"Truly a wonderful day. Althera is one of the gods who comes down the least. We're lucky to have this opportunity. Come, come my friends. We must get on line and hope she can stay long enough to hear us.\"\n\nThe guide rushed off to join the still growing line. The humans looked at each other before heading over at a much more leisurely pace.\n\n\"Dan, is that who I think it is?\" Mark asked.\n\n\"Yeah. I think so. But that's impossible. Gods aren't real. They're just stories our ancestors told to explain the world. We can't be meeting the actual Athena here.\"\n\n\"And yet, she definitely recognized us. And she seems to have a lot in common with our mythological figure.\" He let out a heavy breath. \"I guess we'll just have to get on line and find out for ourselves.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: You are a Reaper in human form & on your day off. What's your regular average day look like considering you have a literal & inconsequential licence to kill." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Everyone expects death to wear black.\n\nI guess it started off as a western thing originally. Plague era stuff, some of my favourite work on your planet, now that I think about it.\n\nThink about death. No human, not the concept of death. Nothing that vague or high concept. I mean Death; your species' visual representation of death.\n\nThat's it, that's it right there. Black hooded robe or cloak, faded and tattered. Either a clattery skeleton or a super wizened old man, sometimes a sexy woman if someone is trying to be clever. Requisite rusty scythe.\n\nStereotypical, and in a way, a little offensive. Yes, I may be the end of all things living and otherwise, and some day long from now, I will have pulled all the stars from the heavens until all is as black and still as the grave, but why does that make me a thing to be feared? Why do I have to be imagined as a gross, shambling, pile of bones equipped with an old farming implement? I have a task to do, just like everything else.\n\nPersonally, when I am not on the job, I prefer to wear light colours, season appropriate, of course. You may think that a force of nature, or concept like death is intangible, and I am, or I can be at least, but being nothing and everywhere at once is rather boring, and lonely.\n\nYes, death can become lonely. It's hard for most living things to comprehend, but the universe is depressingly vast. And while there is always a star burning out or objects colliding, or living thing dying one way or another, there is such a huge ratio of nothing to something, overseeing it all makes even almighty death feel a sense of angst and hopelessness.\n\nThat's why, when I can, I like to exist in a time, a place, and a form. Humans are just as good of a self aware species to moonlight as, so I tend to favour them. That's not to say that I don't interact with other species throughout the universe, of course.\n\nOf course there is/has been/will be other intelligent life in the universe, don't be self important. Life as a concept is too broad for there not to be.\n\nNo, I am not going to drop any hints. Would you want to be told what you were going to recieve for Christmas ahead of time when you were a child and have the surprise ruined? Exactly.\n\nNow, where was I? Right, Death in it's spate time. One of my favourite activities is to simply watch interactions; between people and things around them.\n\nLook around you right now and describe the setting:\n\nNice outdoor bistro, late summer day, lots of foot traffic going by and lots of variety in people seated around us. People meeting, parting, talking about their hopes and interests, admitting infidelity, pledging eternal love towards one another. So many things to see. So many emotions.\n\nWhat's that? You have to go? Well, of course, don't let me keep you. I will see you again. No, no, not like that, although some day, exactly like that. Don't worry about that, it happens to everything living and not, so why worry about it? It's an integral part of existing, to eventually cease to exist. Even I will cease to exist when there is nothing left. Entropy, right. It's the nature of the universe, so try and enjoy the time you do have.\n\nDon't worry about the tab, I'll get it.\n\nDeath settles all debts, in the end." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: A council of aliens comes to earth.They are facing a threat from another galaxy so great they finally had to do what they said they wouldn't ever do.They contacted humanity,the most destructive known species, and are pleading for help." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "He was a broken man. A small creature with worrylines criss crossing his head and a thin line of a mouth that hadn't smiled in months. Sitting at that table again just made it worse. It had been eleven years, give or take, since he had last been there and coming back was not a pleasant experience.\n\nAlthough this itme it was under completely different circumstances.\n\nAal was watching him closely. Waiting for a response. He was known to be one of the more patient among his people but this silence was beginning to wear him down. Still, repeating the question was not an option. Even though he was a broken man, President Harry Johnson was a proud one, and there was nothing more dangerous than a proud human.\n\nThe Battlecruiser Erudite was hanging in orbit above the blue-green jewel that was Terra. One of the windows had been opened fully to allow the beautiful view to fill the meeting room where the two now sat. Harry seemed to be pre-occupied with looking at one of the smaller landmass just east of a gigantic ocean.\n\n“We considered going to war with you.”\n\nThere it was – confirmed by none other than Harry Johnson himself.\n\n“Course, we decided not to in the end. You kicked us out of your little club and gave us what? Nine planets and a restraining order?”\n\n“This is your home system, Harry. Most members of the Galactic Council are content with as much. A lot more have a lot less.”\n\n“Bullshit. Each little... faction of yours all had their turn at conquering the stars. Setting out and claiming unknown territory. We were just starting that when you came along and began to curtail us.”\n\n“That's not true. We worked with you as best we could, but your people are too greedy. They want too much. It was a growing sentiment at the time that any relations with your planets would end in war.”\n\nHarry took his eyes of the Earth and fixed them on the table. It was a marvel of modern technology, a faintly glowing hologram with each of the nine worlds and glowing dots showing each major battlefleet.\n\n“So you locked us here and threw away the key?”\n\n“To use your expressions, yes. We did it to better the -”\n\n“We're at war with ourselves now. You know that? Cooped up in this pokey little system has done terrible things to my people. They used to dream of the stars, a better future, and you took that away. Now Mercury's colonies are launching against Venus, Venus is petitioning us for help. Mars – now here's an interesting one – Mars has been stockpiling the latest in inter-planetary missiles. We think they're friendly but we haven't been able to get a man on the surface for years. Every single one of Jupiter's moons are eyeing each other up wondering who's going to strike first. And for a while, we considered turning all of this pent up rage and anger on you. How many ships are stationed at the cordon right now?”\n\n“I-”\n\n“How many?”\n\n“Around seventy thousand.”\n\n“We have seventy thousand ships tasked with defending Terra alone. Half that number again are stationed in the asteroid belt where they can't be detected. Your cordon is stretched thin, our fleet is focused. The only reason we haven't followed through is we don't know the kind of retribution you're capable of bringing against us. It scares some people.”\n\nAal let him talk. What he was saying was somewhat true, the cordon was no match for Humanity's united fleets. What had worked the last eleven years was the knowledge that there was an entire galaxy of races would bear down on the single system should the cordon be breached. A fleet might get through, here and there, but the planets would remain vulnerable.\n\nBut now they were at war with the Outsiders there was no backup fleet. The cordon was desperately needed on the front lines.\n\nAs was humanity.\n\n“Can you unite them?”\n\n“Easily. All I'd have to do is say that our jailors have their backs turned. That they sent their favourite diplomat -”\n\n“- I am a general, not a -”\n\n“ - and I killed him. A single bullet here, a salvo from our main batteries into your flagship and it's all over. Your fleet would be leaderless, humanity would rally behind us and we would take our rightful place among the stars.”\n\nThe passion in Harry's voice began to die out, petering down until he was barely whispering. Beginning to feel uncomfortable now, Aal watched as Harry leaned forward and pressed an intercom button.\n\n“President Harry Johnson to Combat Control. Tell me – are we locked on to their flagship?”\n\n“Yes sir. Secondary weapons can be firing within three seconds. Main batteries within seven.”\n\nThe intercom died.\n\n“Should I give the order?”\n\n“No.”\n\n“And why not?”\n\n“Because,” Aal began to say, thinking as he did, “it would be a grave error. The Outsiders will destroy you if you fight alone, as they will destroy us alone. Just as your people will unite against a much greater threat, so too will ours. Ours and yours. Think of the things that could be achieved -”\n\n“I have.”\n\n“And?”\n\n“You're not the first ones to come here with this bargain,” Harry said, waving for an aide. He whispered something to the man, who saluted smartly and marched out of the room.\n\nAal went cold. His race was known for their hearing, and the words Harry said had been simple, brutal and to the point. “Bring the Outsider in.”\n\nAdrenaline coursed through Aal's veins, but he was in no position to move overtly. Instead he shuffled slightly, activating a beacon that was embedded in his jewellery. On his own ship a small red light had just popped on, alerting the combat staff to danger. They would be filing into their stations, manning fighters, getting ready to launch. A firing solution would be set up on the human vessel with the goal of rendering it harmless but not killing Aal.\n\nThe intercom buzzed to life.\n\n“Sir, the Ni'len vessel has just gone to combat stations. Orders?”\n\n“Hold your fire,” shouted Harry, glaring at Aal. “Tell your men to stand down or I will give the order.”\n\n“You're working with them. We knew humanity couldn't be trusted. We knew -”\n\n“We've made our choice, Aal.”\n\nThe door hissed open. The aide was back, this time with three others, pushing a wheeled stretcher through the double doors. On it was a mutilated corpse. Clearly it had been the subject of many experiments, but it was clear it was an Outsider.\n\n“We destroyed their fleet when it got past your cordon.”\n\n“What?”\n\n“They threatened us with extinction if we didn't join them. I told you eleven years ago, Aal, Humanity doesn't like being threatened. Now tell your men to stand down so we can discuss the terms of our alliance civilly.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: The party faces their final, most dangerous and powerful opponent: The Dungeon Master." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The necromancer laid dead at Welf’s feet. Thick black blood oozed from its wounds. Welf turned to his party, a wolfish grin across his face. The rest of his party looked exhausted and battered, but small smiles crept across their faces as well.\n\n“We finally did it.” Azer’s voice sounded dumbfounded. “All the minions, all the little quests and we finally killed that necromancer!” His wizards hat was bloody and askew.\n\n“No thanks to you, cowering in the corner like a pansy,” Griss growled. He stood up from where he had been blasted to the floor and picked up his bloody daggers.\n\n“Hey! I ran out of spells! I was using cantrips every round! This is what happens when you decide not to do a long rest before taking on the big boss,” Azer’s voice squeaked indignantly.\n\n“Really you two? You knew there was a time crunch before he summoned his patron to the realm. We had to act. Stop bickering,” Lillian said. Her armour still glowed with faint holy light, even in a dungeon this dark and deep. “Besides, now that this is all done, I’m sure we can go take some time off and find something to spend the reward we get from the king, as well as whatever treasure we find down here.”\n\n“Bad things! Friends!” Welf shouted, pointing at the piles of bones laying around the party. They were reanimating, rising up into larger forms than they had been previously. Within seconds, flesh and muscle was creeping over the bones. Before the party could reacted, the mass of skeletal defenders the necromancer had assembled had reanimated into five owlbears.\n\n“Seriously Frank?” Lillian groaned.\n\n“C’mon Frank, I gotta head home soon. You can’t just extend the fight because you thought it was too easy,” Azer said. “Let’s just call it.”\n\n“Yeah I’m out,” Griss agreed. “I have a chem paper due monday that I haven’t started.”\n\nThe owlbears advanced. The party did nothing.\n\n“See you Frank! Thanks for the great night, can’t wait to see what you have planned next week!” Welf’s voice was faint.\n\nThe owlbears leapt on the party, feasting on their flesh. There was no retaliation from the four heroes. They were frozen in place by some greater magic. As the pain and terror became too much, a tear rolled down Lillian’s cheek. Why did her god have to forsake her now? Why would she let such a terrible thing happen to them?\n\n“Fine, they can leave. These can be waiting for them next week.” An unknown voice echoed through the room. “But they’ll start at disadvantage.”\n\nIn a blink, everything had rewound. The owlbears were mere feet away from the party, mouths open in undead hunger. Lillian stood, frozen in place, still unable to move. In the corner of her eyes she could see Welf straining against the force that held them in place. How long would this stasis last?\n\nThe torchlight dimmed and then went out a few hours later. In complete darkness, Lillian could see nothing. Hear nothing. Feel nothing.\n\nIn nothingness she waited." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: People all over the world have suddenly gained special powers, but it’s only happening within a specific generation" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Between 2030 and 2040, the world changed. What was once a seemingly normal world changed drastically. And yet, it will change again in another hundred years or so. I was one of the 'lucky' ones to be born between those dates.\n\nIt started normal, nothing seemed different. But when the children of 2030 turned eight, everything turned upside-down. Suddenly these children gained abilities not unlike those out of a comic book. Some could fly, some could create fire.\n\nWhen I was younger, it seemed like such an amazing thing. I gained the ability to manipulate electronics. In my youth i had a lot of fun pranking my parents and my siblings. It was all a game to those of my generation. How quickly this was shut down.\n\nAt first the government didnt do anything except register those with powers. It was expected to be an evolutionary thing so there was no craze to lock away those gifted with powers.\n\nHeh, gifted. How wrong we would be. In 2049 the world changed again. I was ten at the time. Suddenly the powers stopped coming. Those born in 2041 never got their powers. Parents started getting scared, worried that their kids had something wrong with them.\n\nThe hospitals were flooded with these worried parents. Among this panic a statement was soon released. \"Those born after 2040 will never get powers. The genetic abnormality is gone.\"\n\nEverything was fine for a couple years, but people started to adjust that only the certain generation would have powers. That was when the men came. I can't say for certain what happened to the rest, but my house was broken into. I woke up to strangers grabbing my arms and putting a bag over my head. I tried kicking and screaming, but it was to no avail.\n\nI can still hear the sobbing of my mother to this day. I never saw her again. We were all taken to a facility where we got a good look at our captors: soldiers and government agents.\n\nSome of us were sent to extreme training and conditioning, hoping to train the strongest powered beings into super soldiers. The others, myself included, were sent to a lab.\n\nOur daily routine was simple. We ate at exactly 6 in the morning, subjected ourselves to experimentation (often painful), ate lunch at noon, more experimentation, ate dinner at 8pm sharp and then sleep.\n\nLike clockwork we followed this routine. If we broke from it, we were sent to \"Special Experimentation\". In other words, we were tortured while someone kept us alive the entire time. It was painful, lasers cutting into your skin, being suffocated, etc. I only broke routine once.\n\nBy the time we were adults, our wills were mostly broken, and the GIs were furious. In all that time, the had never figured out what caused the strange genomes.\n\nI was twenty when i finally decided to escape. I tried to convince the rest to join me, but most of them refused afraid of the consequences. I managed to escape by manipulating the cameras with my abilities. I was even able to bypass security locks. One of the ones who joined me had the ability to make this rust or rot.\n\nAfter i got out, i tried to find my family, but they had moved away, and my mother died of cancer. I was devastated, but determined to keep moving. I didn't want to be caught again. At least, i didnt until 2080 came around.\n\nYou see, thats why I'm telling you my story now. What happened in 2040 is happening again. And you need to know what happens if you reveal your powers. But don't worry. I have a few friends who can help me keep you safe." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: The Time Police's job is not just to kill threats to the timeline, but to make it look as mundane as possible. Natural causes, crime, make it look like ANYTHING other then time travel." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Time travelers have a nasty tendency to try and spill the beans about everything.\n\nWhy would they? Are you serious? They want to leave their mark. They want to feel important. They can’t figure anything out in the now, so they go to the past to see if they can be more fortunate there instead.\n\nWell, at least in my sector of things - I only work in the Past Unit. We’re not allowed to interact with the Future Unit because if we heard about the things that they see, that knowledge we’re not supposed to have could affect the timeline.\n\nAnyways, back to what I was saying. People who try to alter the past have a lot of traits in common - they’re from poor families, or they’re middle aged and dissatisfied with whatever life has given them so far, or they think of the past as someplace to run away from everything. Some of them are good writers, some of them are artists, some of them are film directors, but the ones that are trouble can’t seem to avoid sharing whatever information they know.\n\nWhat about the ones who don’t share anything? Well, the Time Police wouldn’t have any reason to care about them. It’s not a crime to travel to the past, it’s a crime to try and change it. Turns out that the flow of events leading to the present is really sturdy - it takes a lot of effort to make even small adjustments to it. People can go visit their parents or grandparents or great grandparents and it won’t do a damn thing. But whenever someone thinks it’s a great idea to write a book, labeled as an autobiography, about their life in a world that hasn’t happened yet, we notice quickly.\n\nTake today, for example. Some kid named Elias Rooker hopped in a time machine and went back to 1936. No big deal, people are always interested in different time periods and that’s not an issue. But we took a closer look at his profile and saw that he had a few too many red flags to ignore. Broke kid with a broke family? Check. Talented writer, but not talented enough to compete with the AI Storytellers? Check. Making online comments about modern society being an “endless hellscape”? Check. We couldn’t just leave him in the past unsupervised without checking on him, so they sent me to see what he was up to.\n\nI show up in his hotel room, and man, you should’ve seen his face. Went pale as a sheet before I could even flash my badge. He had a laptop out, and I asked to see what was on it.\n\n“Officer, there’s nothing on the computer worth looking at,” he said, the pitch of his voice fluctuating uncontrollably. He stood in front of the computer, facing towards me.\n\n“Elias, if there’s really nothing worth looking at, then why are you making a fuss? It will only take a moment-”\n\nBefore I can even finish what I’m saying, the dumb kid pulls a revolver out of his jacket pocket. His arms are shaking, index finger stretched awkwardly across the trigger, doing his best to keep the barrel pointed at me through his nervousness. Probably not even his gun. Probably given to him by his family in case the Time Police showed up. It’s pretty common for poor families to send their talented ones to the past, to try and earn some money to use in the present. Their biggest mistake was putting the burden on some wimp little teen who couldn’t even stop his voice from cracking when he spoke to me.\n\nThis is exactly what I was trained for.\n\nI pulled my taser out of its holster and paralyzed him before he had a chance to try shooting. His limbs quivered and convulsed as he fell to the floor in a jittering heap. While he was still stunned, I took a look at the computer. The cursor blinked over an incomplete sentence in a document file he was working on.\n\n“‘In a short couple of years, an unimaginable conflict will engulf the world - on a scale larger than anything you’ve ever faced, with more death and destruction than humanity knew it was capable of. This conflict, known in my time as World War II, will change’.... Change what, Elias? What were you going to say?”\n\nHe was gasping for air, looking like a fish out of water. It was always an amusing sight, seeing scum like this squirming in pain, but I’d have to act fast before he regained control of his body. I sent a kick flying into his gut, and he clutched desperately at his stomach, as though it would do him any good. I nudged the gun out of his reach, and I looked around the room to see what options I had. There was a stool and a ceiling fan; plenty of tools to get the job done. They didn’t have any DNA testing at this point in time, so there was no need to take extreme precautions like you do in the more recent eras.\n\nI pulled my strongest rope out of my utility belt, and stepped onto the stool to get closer to the ceiling fan. After tying a knot securely around the fan’s shaft, I focused my attention on the other end. In a few moments, I’d finished tying a noose. I lifted the bony, ghastly kid up, slipping his head through the loop, and let gravity do the rest. The zippy sound of rope grating against rope filled the air briefly, before being followed by a guttural, strained choking. Elias was wildly clawing at his neck, his eyes bugging as though they were about to pop. The sniveling worm’s head was turning a sickly shade of blue as his kicks and grasps became slower, weaker. Before long, his struggling ceased, the room filled with a deep silence, and it was time for me to head back and tell headquarters what had happened. For good measure, I kicked the stool over and scooted it underneath him - it would help make the story clear when he was found.\n\nI grabbed his gun from its spot on the floor, and I nabbed his laptop too, before I pressed the button on my belt that returned me to the present. After telling the Information Unit what I knew, they dispatched a team to Elias’s home to finish the job. Couldn’t risk them trying again with another family member, after all.\n\nBrutal? You think I was brutal? You realize that if he’d tried to warn them about World War II, and tell them about the weapons that were used, they’d find a way to invent those weapons faster? What if the US wasn’t the first to use the nuclear bomb? What if the information he shared got into the wrong hands, and was used to make sure things ended differently? I did my job, and nothing more. He was risking all of the progress we’ve made, and anyone who does that doesn’t deserve any sympathy.\n\nYou can have whatever opinion you want, and that’s fine, but the facts are the facts. Today, I saved the timeline. I made sure that the right people won an important war, and I made sure that someone who sought to disturb the peace was punished. You can call me brutal, or you can call me a monster, but nothing you say will make me anything other than a hero." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You were kidnapped from Earth and forced to become a gladiator in an alien slave Arena. 5 years later, you rule an intergalactic empire. You're just as confused as your subjects are with how things got this far." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "That last date had been pretty damn amazing. Never had I clicked with a girl so much. She had this bashful way about her that coaxed me in. I wanted her to talk about herself and what she thought about stuff.\n\nShe was cute, petite, and when we we kissed goodnight I didn't want to go home. But her inhibitions consumed her body language, and I knew it was time to head out.\n\nFast forward to yesterday. Imagine 5 months of me wondering what I did wrong, why she hadn't returned my texts, and why I hadn't had another date... with anyone.\n\nI was in my apartment. My two roommates were playing a video game. Honestly I don't know which one. I never really had the gamer gene. But you know, it's the one where you run around with a gun and shoot other people on the internet. Yep, I'm that big of a smart ass.\n\n\"Dude, your phone,\" Chubs was apparently repeating himself with a louder voice. I had been lost in thought.\n\n\"What?\" I became aware of the vibration on the coffee table. I picked it up.\n\n\"Holy shit, it's her!\" I gasped before coming to my senses. I flipped open the hipster retro-phone, and said, \"Hello?\"\n\n\"Maksim? It's you! You didn't change your number or block mine.\" her voice sounded different somehow but the tonal quality was still the same. Like her but more mature somehow.\n\n\"Polina? I like texted you hundred times. Did you change your number?\" I felt stupid after asking the question. I would't have seen her name on the LED if her number had changed.\n\n\"No Maksim, I... I have a lot to tell you. Can you meet me at the mall?\"\n\n\"The mall? Is it still open?\"\n\n\"Yes, believe it or not. It's here and so I am I. I mean it's down to one shoe store, a Subway, and what looks like a kids bouncy house place but it's still here!\"\n\n\"Hang up on that bitch,\" Chubs grimaced.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Mak, she leaves you high and dry for six months and wants you to meet now? Don't fall for that shit bro,\" he gave me his best 'fuck bitches' glance before returning his gaze back to the game\n\nI paused deciding which conversation to respond to, \"Sure I can meet.\"\n\n\"Pussy!\" Chubs seethed as his avatar slayed Roy's.\n\n\"FUCK!\" Roy exclaimed.\n\n\"OK, so like I said, I'm here now. You can't miss me, unless of course you've forgotten what I look like, but to be quite honest I'm the only person under 60 and over 10 here,\" she chuckled.\n\n\"Cool, let me just do a couple of things and I'll be right down.\"\n\n\"Thanks Maksim. I really mean it. Thanks for answering,\" her sincerity made my chest grow warm. I hadn't felt this way in months.\n\n\"No problem,\" I gulped down my enthusiasm, \"See you soon.\"\n\n\"See you soon... bye,\" she hung up and I closed the flip phone.\n\n\"Sure Mak, go down to the mall and hang out like couple of 90s teenagers. I'll be here ordering from Amazon while you walk into the rotting corpse of retail America, cut your heart out of your chest, and give it to the girl who burned you and ruined your life,\" Chubs was looking directly at me now.\n\n\"Chubs, maybe she had a good reason,\" I implored.\n\n\"Maybe she needs a kidney,\" Roy smirked.\n\n\"Listen bro, just don't wear your heart on your sleeve today. There's something off about all of this,\" Chubs gave me a solid squeeze on my shoulder.\n\n\"Call us if you need us man,\" Roy nodded." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write around 1300-1400 words. Prompt: A library of 30 million pages was sent to the moon, in order to save civilization. After the war, people are technologically back in the stone age. But they remember, what's awaiting them on Luna." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Book sniffled. The snow had fallen all throughout the night before, leaving behind a powdery blanket of white. “Appa,” he said, “How much farther?”\n\nHis father set a brisk pace through the woods, “We’re close now, I promise.”\n\nSheba trotted happily beside the boy. When he looked down at her she met his gaze. He giggled, amused by the way she almost seemed to smile. The dog’s tail began to wag as she pranced up beside him and he patted her head. Sheba didn’t know why the boy laughed, but he was happy, and that was enough.\n\n“How old are you today, Book,” Appa asked.\n\n“I’m twelve.”\n\nAppa smiled, “Twelve years old already, and so fast too.”\n\nBook shrugged, he figured twelve years was twelve years, but he wasn’t going to question his father.\n\n“My father always said that every third birthday is something special, do you remember why?”\n\n“That’s how long his grandfather waited after the End War to go outside,” Book said, eager to prove that he’d listened three years before.\n\n“Very good. And what did we do three years ago when you turned nine?”\n\nBook laughed, “That’s when you came home with Sheba!” It had been the strangest of birthdays. His Appa had been gone for two days and nights prior, and he’d feared Appa wasn’t going to make it back for his birthday. But then Appa at last returned holding a little black pup in his arms, and he’d said, “Happy birthday, Book. This is a dog, and she will be your best friend if you let her.” It was perhaps Book’s fondest memory, the happiest day of his life thus far.\n\n“And what about when you turned six,” Appa said.\n\n“My bow!”\n\nHis father laughed, “That’s right, I’m very impressed. Now I don’t expect you to remember this, but do you know what gift your third birthday brought?”\n\nBook thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No.”\n\n“That’s alright. It was a long time ago. Your gift was a fine fur coat, the grey one you wore until you outgrew it. The one Story wore until she got one of her own.”\n\n“Oh yeah, I remember. The one that I gave to Sheba as a bed when she was a puppy!”\n\nAppa chuckled, “Right, I had forgotten that. Anyway,I want to let you in on a secret. You see, those were what you actually received, but they were not the true gifts we gave you.”\n\nBook was confused. He’d always thought of his father like one of the trees in the forest. Strong and stable, but so tall that the top is hidden from sight. It wasn’t about Appa’s physical height, Book supposed he was of average size, but it was all the things Appa had in his mind. You could keep climbing and climbing and never reach the end of what his father knew.\n\n“The true gifts,” Appa said, “Were what they represented. Each one: The coat, the bow, and even Sheba represented one of what my father called, ‘The four pillars of happiness.’”\n\n“...four?”\n\n“Clever boy, hold on, we’ll get there. The coat was soft and warm, and kept you cozy while buffering you from the wind. This was the gift of Comfort, the first pillar.”\n\n“That coat was warm,” Book said. It had been of the finest quality, and must have taken Amma months to stitch.\n\n“With the bow you learned how to protect yourself, and when you proved yourself you were allowed to go alone into the trees. This was the gift of Safety, the second pillar.”\n\n“Mhm, I get it,” Book said. He felt the bow’s reassuring weight on his back.\n\n“And then came Sheba. Right from the start, she was kind and loyal. Always by your side, a faithful companion, always there for you. She has shown you friendship like no human ever could. Sheba represents the third pillar, the gift of Love.”\n\nThe dog’s tail wagged fervently, aware of the attention she was receiving and relishing every ounce of it. Book clapped his hands and she bounded over to him, he patted her head with a smile.\n\nThe sky above was a rosy purple, the last blush of sunset before the still of night. Book could spot a clearing in the trees just ahead. When they reached it, they stepped into a winter oasis. A frozen lake of crystalline water, painted wondrously with the sky’s artful reflection. The beauty was such that Book could not but fill his lungs with crisp, cool air and hold his breath.\n\nA while later, Appa brought him to a small cabin by the lake. He let his son take in the majesty of nature in peace, and prepared a small fire just outside the cabin. When he finished, he sat down on a stump beside Book and with him watched the sky dance from day to night. One by one the stars appeared overhead, their reflection meeting them in turn on the surface of the ice like shy lovers coming carefully to call, startled and thrilled by the sight of the one they knew would complete them.\n\nBut most breathtaking of all was the sky’s crown jewel. Luna. The Night’s beautiful queen.\n\n“When I turned twelve years old, my own Appa took me to a place much like this. He told me of the three gifts his father had given him, as I have told you. And then, when the sun had set, he told me about the fourth and final pillar of Life.”\n\nBook nodded. He was caught in a state of rapture and excitement.\n\n“This gift, he told me, had been his father’s prized possession, then it became his treasure, and when it was given to me, it became my most cherished object. It has remained so for all my life.” Appa reached into his coat and pulled out a small, flat, thing bound in fine leather. He looked at the object fondly, then to his son, and he extended the gift with a smile.\n\nBook took it curiously. The leather felt warm against his touch. There was a clasp on the front that he undid, and he opened the gift. Inside were thin wisps, faintly yellowing and covered all over in strange markings. He flipped through them, entranced by the soft flurry of the markings as they went by. “What is it,” he said.\n\nHe looked up and found tears in Appa’s eyes. He closed the gift quickly, “I’m sorry,” he said, afraid he’d done the wrong thing or hurt his father’s feelings by not understanding.\n\n“No, no, that’s alright,” Appa said, “This, my child, is what you are named after. It’s called a book, and its pages are filled with a story that will change your life.”\n\n“Story,” Book mouthed.\n\nAppa laughed, “This is the fourth Pillar of Happiness, the gift of Luna, the pillar of Wisdom.”\n\nBook looked up at Luna, she reigned over the night sky with a steadfast grace.\n\n“My father said that Luna is the keeper of all stories. She cares for all of them, preserving all the wisdom of the Elders, and one day we will return to her and bring them back. You see, each book is like a little drop of wisdom, they all have something to teach us.”\n\nBook looked down at the little leather gift in his hands. “Is it like a painting?”\n\n“In a way, yes,” Appa said, “But a little different. Here, let me show you.”\n\nBook handed the gift to his father. Appa opened it reverently and began to read, “In the beginning....”\n\nDeep into the night he read out loud, handing the book over to his son from time to time to show him the way that the letters worked together to form certain sounds and words. Finally, Appa closed the book. “That’s a good place to stop for the night,” he said.\n\nBook, who’s been listening in a sort of trance, shook himself to reality. “What? No, please Appa, a little while longer,” he pleaded.\n\nAppa smiled. “Tomorrow, my son. I promise. But tonight will be one of the best parts of this gift, for your dreams will be filled with wonder....”\n\n~\n\nr/CharlestonChews" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: \"I cannot heal you,\" the haggered looking man in black robes said as he stroked the face of the dying girl before him with hands stained with her blood, \"But I can save you...\" With a quick motion, he grabbed her face and snapped her neck. Taking a deep breath, the man began his spellwork..." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“I cannot heal you,” the boy said hoarsely, tears staining his cheeks as he held the dying girl in his arms. “But I can save you.” Forcing down the bile that rose in his throat with a hard swallow, he silently apologized before grabbing her face and quickly snapping her neck. He shut his eyes and allowed himself a moment to take few quick, ragged breaths before opening them and getting to work.\n\nHe picked the girl up and carried her to a large operating table that took up a quarter of the small room. Her broken, bleeding body looked so small on the table. It was all Liviys could do to keep tears from welling up again. This was all his fault. But he would fix it.\n\nHe had to.\n\nSteeling himself for the gruesome work to come, he took a deep breath and hardened his revolve. Then, he began to do what he did best.\n\nBefore anything else, the damage had to be assessed. He looked over her carefully, taking note of every scratch and scrape. After several minutes, he was relieved that not much had to be replaced. Other than numerous small scrapes, there were only a few points of major damage:\n\nA long scratch along the side of her neck, which, judging by the bleeding, had likely cut the carotid artery. It was nearly three inches long, a quarter inch wide, and at least a quarter inch deep, too.\n\nBoth the radius and ulnas in her right arm were completely shattered.\n\nThe final major injury was a deep cut just past the hairline on the upper left side of her forehead. It was about an inch wide and half an inch long, but it was very deep.\n\nOf course, her wings were battered and torn as well. Her wings... Liviys touched the feathers softly. How often he’d been envious of those beautiful, graceful, chocolate-colored wings. Now he felt nothing but regret, that his own selfish actions had caused this. But now was not the time for emotion. He shoved it down, and continued to work.\n\nHe grabbed a stained cloth and began to clean some of the blood so he could see what he was doing. That done, he tossed the rag and opened one of the many drawers alongside the operating table. Though they were not labelled, he knew exactly where everything was.\n\nHe pulled out a small disk-shaped piece of bone and set it on the table. Then, he opened a large freezer and pulled out an arm. Well, part of one. Just part that reached from wrist to elbow. He likewise set this on the table. He took a small saw off a hook on the wall. Finally, he produced an incredibly thin needle and some equally thin thread, took a deep breath, and truly began.\n\nHe started with the arm. The process of removing the unusable section of the right arm was tricky, and had to be done carefully to make his job later easier. Then he began to attach the new one. Well not new— think of it as a hand-me-down! The process of attaching each tendon, each artery, nerve, muscle, and finally skin was incredibly strenuous and tedious. And had to be done perfectly, else her right hand would be unusable.\n\nIt was only when he leaned back and looked over his work, dropping the needle to stretch his hand, did he notice the skin colors were just a few shades different. Well, nothing he could do about it now.\n\nNext, he did the head wound. He cleaned the area just a bit more, having to remind himself that she would not, in fact, feel a thing. While doing so, he confirmed what he’d suspected. The wound, whatever it had been caused by, had cracked up a small section of the bone. Pieces of bone came out easily, and shards had been pushed deeper by whatever impact had caused it.\n\nHe took out the pieces with a pair of tweezers. What was left was a hole about the size of a quarter. He inspected further with a small penlight. There seemed to be next to no damage to the brain, a fact that Liviys was incredibly thankful for. The brain was... tricky. It was beyond him, at least. If THAT was ruined or messed up in any way... Well, thankfully it wasn’t.\n\nHe used a file to shape the small piece of bone he grabbed earlier down to side. Then he coated the sides with a strange glue-like paste from a shelf under the operating table and very carefully, very delicately place it in the hole. He then grabbed a small sheet of leathery, dried out skin from a drawer. He pulled a dagger from his belt and cut a slice from the sheet about an inch wide and half an inch long, careful to waste nothing.\n\nHe coated one side with the same paste and began to sew it into place. That done, he quickly reattached the carotid artery and sewed the cut shut with an experienced hand.\n\nHe’d nearly forgotten her broken neck. He ran his fingers along the sides of her neck, tracing the bones. This was relatively easy to fix, but like with everything he did, there were risks. He gently pulled on the side of her neck until he heard a pop. Her neck wasn’t really broken, per say; two of the disks were dislocated in a fashion that severed the spinal cord. The bones were fixed, the nerves were not.\n\nBut it was the best he could do. If he went in there and tried to fix anything, he could cause irreparable damage. He wasn’t willing to take that risk. Instead, he simply used a pillow and a strip of tape for a makeshift brace. As long as she didn’t move it much after waking up, her own regeneration should take care of the rest. If he was lucky, it would heal itself while she slept after bringing her back.\n\nAll the major stuff taken care of, he leaned back and took a deep breath. Alright... now this part was always a gamble. Bringing them back.\n\nHe began to dig through a certain drawer. Bringing someone back from the dead was very risky. You basically gave an invitation. He took out a sliver of bone slightly larger than a grab of rice, as well as his dagger. If someone dies, their spirit or soul or whatever leaves their body. Usually they, well, ‘move on.’ Go to the afterlife, one way or another. But the body was once again capable of supporting life. And if you knew how, you could invite them back.\n\nThe only thing is, the invitation is open to anyone, and it’s a one-time-only sorta deal. So you could end up with a totally random person in the body, or something a little more sinister. But if he was lucky, her spirit was still hanging around. The whole ‘unfinished business’ thing isn’t quite just superstition, you know.\n\nHe carved something into the bone, then cut open a small slit right into the little space in the top of her sternum. It wasn’t very deep, as he wasn’t going to risk cutting her windpipe and having more to fix, but it didn’t need to be. He inserted the carved bone and quickly added a few stitches to close it.\n\nHe allowed himself a few more deep breaths.\n\nNow to wait." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You are a genie, tirelessly slaving away granting wishes for master after master. Some have claimed that they would use their last wish to free you, but all were lying. Until one day, your next master STARTS with \"I wish for you to be freed from your servitude in exactly three hours.\"" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Madame you are aware that you only have 3 wishes correct? Should you want, I will forgo that first one as an accident and set you back from the start.”\n\n“I’m fully aware of the limitations. I have two remaining correct?” She flashed a wry grin that seemed to light the small cavern.\n\n“Yes, two wishes remain. And now I suppose 3 hours in which to use them.” Who was this strange woman? At first I thought she was the latest in a long line of captors, with their promises and vows of freedom, only to be overcome with their greed.\n\n“Hmmm, this is tricky. What would you wish for, er, I don’t believe I caught your name.”\n\n“Al-Hasan ab-Azer. First of my line.”\n\n“Is Al fine?”\n\n“If you wish.”\n\n“I caught that! You can’t fool me THAT easily Al-Hasan.” That bright grin returned.\n\n“So it would seem Orissa. As a reward you may refer to me anyway you like.” Intriguing. I haven’t been tested like this in quite some time. This may actually be fun.\n\n“You’re a pretty swell guy Al. Let’s see, I still got two wishes left.” She slumped off her worn pack, one strap nearly ripped off. “I guess I wish for a better pack. Ooh, maybe one that’s infinite in capacity or something. Definitely purple though. Purple is a good color.”\n\n“You’re wish is granted!” With a snap of my ancient fingers a new pack appeared before her, purple but seemingly normal.\n\n“I was hoping for little more mysticism I guess.” She opened the pack and stuck her arm in. Her eyes widened and that smile lit the cavern once more. “Wow it really is infinite! And purple! Thanks Al!”\n\n“I was merely granting your wish Orissa.” Was I blushing?\n\n“Nuh uh. I said maybe one that was infinite. You did it because you like me. It’s ok, you don’t have to admit it just yet. One more wish, this one has to be a good one. You can’t end in something weak like a pack. Any suggestions Al?”\n\n“Do you have friends Orissa?”\n\n“Oh ya tons. I’m not gonna wish for friends Al that’s lame. I do a lot of exploring so new shoes wouldn’t be a bad choice.”\n\n“New shoes aren’t a weak wish?” I can’t remember the l actually conversed with someone.\n\n“There’s nothing weak about free clothing, especially shoes. That means you can spend your money on fun things. I don’t really have to worry about money though, but I really don’t want to go shoe shopping. Should I do it Al?”\n\n“If I may, why don’t you have to worry about money? Most who seek me out do it because all they worry about is money.”\n\n“I can’t tell you yet Al, that’ll ruin my surprise! Ah, dang it Al! Now you know there’s a surprise! You’re a tricky one I have to say. I’ll just take the shoes then. I want them comfortable and they never get destroyed or ruined. Oh, and they grow with my feet. Now I’ll never have to buy new ones.” She chuckled to herself like she just outsmarted someone.\n\nOnce more I snapped my fingers and with a flash of smoke and light a pair of purple shoes apparated before the woman. She shrieked from excited and then something strange happened: she hugged me. I’ve never been hugged before.\n\n“Oh my god Al! There was smoke, and lights, and oh man. They. Are. Purple. I didn’t even ask for that! You are the best Al!”\n\n“All 3 wishes have been granted. Farewell Orissa, and may your wishes treat you well.” I bowed and disappeared into the lamp. During my last few hours ever in the lamp I couldn’t help but replay what had just transpired in my mind. By the end my face hurt from the smiling. I could feel the cracks forming on the lamp and within moments it exploded, leaving me free for the first time in 5000 years.\n\n“Al!”\n\n“Orissa?”\n\nShe ran to me and gave me another hug.\n\n“What are you still doing here?”\n\n“Waiting for you, duh!”\n\n“But why? Our transaction had transpired. Your wishes granted and you had given me my freedom. There was no reason to see it occur.”\n\n“So you could see your surprise dummy.” She opened her old pack and dumped its contents on the ground. Dozens of similar lamps spilled out onto the cavern floor with clinks and clangs.\n\n“Are you some kind of lamp collector? I’m sorry to say that mine was destroyed.”\n\n“For such a magical being you’re kinda dumb Al. I free genies. I research where they’re supposed to be, set them free with my first wish and just have fun with the other two. That’s what I meant when I had friends. Occasionally I go back and find them. You know, catch up and check on them. It’s pretty interesting to see what genies do when they’re no longer trapped.”\n\nI felt intense emotions well up and tears reach the corner of my eyes. “That’s incredibly kind of you Orissa. Thank you.” The first of many tears began to fall.\n\n“Oh it’s nothing. Say, what’re you gonna do now?” That smile of hers was infectious.\n\n“I don’t know. Can I come with you? No that’s dumb.”\n\n“Hey, I wished for shoes. Look, you can come with me until you figure out what you want to do ok? Have you ever met another genie?”\n\n“No, I don’t think I have.” I wiped the last tears from my eyes and did another strange thing: I hugged Orissa.\n\n“Oh this is new. Ok. I like this, this is nice. Let’s go find us a genie Al.”\n\n“Thank you.”\n\n“You’re welcome.”\n\n“I think you’re the first human I’ve ever liked Orissa.”\n\n“I knew it!”\n\nAfter a few more moments of our silent embrace she collected her lamps, placed them in her new pack, and together we set off. Not as master and genie, but as friends." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Thanks to magical artifacts from dungeons and ruins, blacksmiths find their common iron scraps collecting dust. To save your family business, you created the first ingot of true steel." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A wave of intense heat welcomed Ingryd as she entered her father’s workshop and saw him inspecting the molten iron within the giant crucible that rested at the room’s center. Her father was lost in his work, as he always was, but no so lost that he did not seeto his darling daughter enter.\n\n“Good morning, Ingryd,” Daryn said as he turned from the crucible and wiped his rugged arm across his brow. “You’re up early today.”\n\n“We don’t have much choice but to rise to work early these days, father,” Ingryd replied. “The Adventurer’s Guild brought another load of adamantine in this morning. We’ll lose the forge if we don’t keep up.”\n\nDaryn smiled as he approached his daughter and placed his hand on her shoulder. “You shouldn’t worry so much, my dear. The Guild’s stolen treasures are nothing compared to a good, home-forged steel.”\n\nIngryd’s expression faltered as her eyes wandered to the large crucible at the center of the room. “Father, I’ve been thinking. Remember uncle’s project? True Steel?”\n\nDaryn brayed and shook his head. “My brother was a madman. He spent us into the situation we’re in now chasing after his grand design. His ‘True Steel.’ It can’t be done. The old methods are lost to time, Ingryd, and you’re right that we don’t have time to spare, especially not on hopeless projects.”\n\n“But what if it wasn’t lost? What if I…learned how to forge it?”\n\n“Impossible,” Daryn scoffed. “Where would you have learned this?”\n\nIngryd pursed her lips and exhaled before continuing. “Uncle left extensive notes behind when he died. I’ve been reading them in my spare time, and I think I’ve solved it.”\n\nDaryn’s eyes narrowed as his daughter finished speaking. “Well, go on.”\n\n“The issue is the carbon,” Ingryd continued. “Most of Uncle’s notes detailed different experiments with different added impurities, but he never was able to produce True Steel, at least not in the notes I had before yesterday. Uncle had a hidden book under the floorboards of his room, and it had the secret: human tissue. Humans have carbon in them, and the carbon shell that hosts a human soul is the type of carbon needed to make True Steel. So if we can just find a corpse, we can use it to make True St-”\n\n“It needs to be living.”\n\nIngryd was stunned to silence by her father’s interruption. “I-I’m sorry?”\n\n“A corpse won’t work. The soul itself is what makes the process work,” Daryn replied.\n\nIngryd’s eyes went wide. “How do you know that, father?”\n\nDaryn placed his hand again on his daughter’s shoulder, a tear welling up in his eye. “I’m sorry, my little Ingryd. You were never supposed to learn this.”\n\nIn a single fluid motion, Daryn tightened his grip on his daughter, wrenched her around his body, and threw her into the crucible. Ingryd screamed as she was immersed in the molten iron, thrashing as her flesh sizzled and burned. Daryn stared unflinching as his daughter burned, just as his brother had burned." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1200-1300 words. Prompt: A vampire is married with children but refuses to turn any of them because they are incredibly toxic. It is increasingly hard to hide the truth from them. Like Malcolm in the Middle…but with a vampire." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Come on, kids, we’re going to be late!” Morton Radley II yelled from the bottom of the stairs. Then, he turned to his father, “Don’t even say it.”\n\nThe older man raised his bushy gray eyebrows, creating even more wrinkles on his forehead. “Turn ’em, and they’ll have to listen,” Morton senior said.\n\n“Well, you turned me, and I don’t have to do everything you say,” junior shot back.\n\n“And if you had, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” senior said, turning and walking away. His cane struck the ground with every other step.\n\n“What happened to the stopper we put on the end of your cane?” junior asked, annoyed.\n\n“I took it off,” the old man replied without turning around.\n\nMorton junior cursed his father under his breath. The older man had come from the mountains of Transylvania just a week before; he had already overstayed his welcome. When junior had asked how long he was staying, his father had shrugged and replied that he had nowhere to be.\n\nHe turned his attention to the heavy footsteps descending the stairs, knowing they belonged to his daughter before he saw her.\n\n“Reynard keeps texting Alyssa!” Lynnette said when she reached her father. “Tell him to stop!”\n\nReynard rushed down the steps and started speaking his defense before Morton could say a word. “Well, it’s not my fault she’s into me,” he said with a grin, reminding Morton of a cat that had just swallowed a caged bird.\n\n“You’re just doing this to get under my skin!” Lynnette said, her hands curled into fists at her side.\n\nReynard smiled at her. She punched him in the arm.\n\nMorton stepped between the two of them before it could escalate. “Look, let’s just get these turkeys delivered and return home.” He looked outside and readjusted the mask covering his face.\n\n“Why are you all covered up? It’s November; we aren’t going skiing.”\n\n“You know I get cold easily,” Morton replied, adjusting his gloves, covering every inch of skin.\n\n“What, are you scared the poor people will recognize you?” Reynard said with a sneer.\n\nMorton choked back a flurry of choice words at his son’s ignorance. “No, I just think that you two should get all of the credit.”\n\nHe didn’t mention that he wanted to teach them both a lesson about the spirit of Thanksgiving. His father was pressuring him to turn one or both of them into vampires, but the grandfather never realized how toxic the two of them were. Letting them live forever seemed like a curse that the rest of the world’s population didn’t deserve.\n\n“Let’s go, the trucks ready,” Morton said, walking out of the door ahead of his two children. The three of them climbed into the cab with Morton behind the steering wheel.\n\nThe line of people waiting for their free turkey snaked around the corner of the elementary school. “Look at all of the people we’re going to help!” Morton said.\n\n“I bet they all have to old iPhone,” Reynard quipped.\n\n“Probably won’t even have 5g,” Lynnette added.\n\nMorton turned and stared at his kids, confused about how they got to be so spoiled.\n\n“Whoa, who’s that?” Lynnette said, pointing past the edge of the school building.\n\nThe town mayor and his son were already set up at the end of the line. They were in the back of the refrigerated truck, the mayor tossing turkeys from the truck’s interior and the son handing them down to the waiting people.\n\n“Hurry, let’s get set up!” Morton yelled, pressing on the gas. He whipped into a parking spot, parked, and unhooked his seatbelt.\n\nLynnette and Reynard didn’t move. Instead, they were both glued to their phones.\n\n“What are you waiting for?” Morton roared. Or tried to roar. It never came out quite right. That’s one thing the movies got wrong about vampires-none of the ones he knew or met was ever scary. They were best described as tired government employees, punching the clock each day until a wooden stake helped them go home for good.\n\nMorton’s kids sighed. He didn’t have to see their faces to know that they had rolled their eyes.\n\n“Fine, we’re going,” Lynnette said.\n\n“You’re going to let the Jones’ beat you?” Morton said, hoping to light a fire under them.\n\n“I mean… they were here first,” Renard said.\n\n“Come on, Lynnette said, grabbing her brother and pulling him out of the cab.\n\nMorton waited until he heard the rear door open before rushing from the drivers’ side door. Then, he jumped into the truck’s rear and shoved Reynard out of the way.\n\n“What’s wrong with you?” Reynard shouted, recoiling in disgust.\n\nEven after all these years, neither of his kids had any idea he was a vampire.\n\n“I’ll hand em to you; you hand them out,” Morton said. Reynard stared at him like he’d suggested they eat the turkeys raw before he shrugged and joined Lynnette at the door.\n\n“We have the best turkeys!” Mayor Jones said.\n\nMorton clenched his jaw and started sliding the turkeys across the floor while his kids yelled at the line. The mayor’s son chimed in, too, adding to the noise.\n\n“Hey, this one’s packaging is ripped!” a woman getting her free turkey said about their bird from Lynnette. The mayor seized on the complaint and told her to come to get one from him too.\n\n“Our birds are still in their packaging!” he said.\n\nMorton saw Reynard glare at the other truck.\n\nEventually, everyone that came for a bird took two: one from the mayor and one from Morton’s clan.\n\nWhen the mayor ran out of turkeys, Morton, Lynnette, and Reynard yelled even louder, saying how they could keep up with the demand when even the mayor couldn’t.\n\nBy the time the last person in line left with a bird, Morton was standing just inside the shadow inside the truck. “Looks like you couldn’t take care of your people, mayor,” he said to Mayor Jones, who was standing outside.\n\n“Told you, they get it from their father,” the younger Jones said to his father.\n\nMorton stumbled backward, realizing that he had more in common with his children than he thought. He took the last remaining turkey in the truck, the one he had saved for his family, and walked it to the edge of the truck bed.\n\n“Here, I want you to have this,” Morton said.\n\nMayor Jones took a step forward.\n\n“We already have a turkey at home, dad,” his son said.\n\nMayor Jones shushed him and reached up.\n\nThe lower portion of Morton’s arm passed into the sunlight and exposed a sliver of his wrist while reaching the turkey forward. He clenched his teeth as a sizzle erupted and smoke curled from his skin.\n\n“Dad, what was that,” Reynard said when they were alone again in the truck’s cab on their way home.\n\n“It’s nothing,” Morton replied, pretending he didn’t feel the burning sensation coursing through his veins.\n\nCareful not to expose himself to any more sunlight, Morton walked through the front door and was greeted by the smell of roasted turkey.\n\n“Did you pick one to turn?” Morton senior growled when they were alone.\n\nThinking back to the day on the truck, Morton shook his head no. “I think they need more time in the oven,” he said, leaving his confused father alone.\n\nMorton senior shook his head. “They never learn.”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Assume the role of a person mistakenly sent to Hell, or vice versa. Slowly have them realize maybe they're in the right place after all." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I had known the end was coming. It had only been a matter of time. I couldn't even find enough heroin to make the pain stop anymore. And then I tried...but it wasn't what I expected. Instead of the fire spreading from my veins and into the world around me, I found myself lying in what I thought was the most comfortable bed there ever could be, soft and luxurious. Something fit for a king. When I opened my eyes, I found I had been resting on a cloud, pure white and while unyielding to my steps as I stood up, neither did I find resistance. I was practically gliding as I walked. I'd never had a high like this before.\n\nIt may have been moments, hours, or decades later when I came to the gates, golden and shining with all the light of the sun and stars. A wizened man with a stack of tomes on his desk sat outside the locked doors, watching my approach. I knew who he was. I knew where I was, but the question came all the same. \"Where am I? Who are you?\" As sure as I was, I couldn't keep my voice from shaking.\n\n\"I am Saint Peter, and these are the gates to Heaven.\" He gestured behind him. \"And you, Caitlin, stand before me to be judged.\"\n\nI could feel my heart drop in my chest. I knew what answer was forthcoming. Fear made my skin go hot, and I could almost feel the flames I would soon be relinquished to.\n\n\"God has seen your deeds, recounted every moment of your life. He knows well your sorrows, and your darkest sins.\" Saint Peter continues. I swallowed hard, and I could feel tears forming in my eyes.\n\n\"The shadows of your life have not, however, darkened the welcome into God's Kingdom, child.\" Here, Saint Peter smiled and gestured again to the gates, which now opened wide. I stood paralyzed all the same. Surely this wasn't right. \"This...this can't be.\" I was shocked. There's no way I was worthy of heaven. Not after all I had done, all I had seen. I couldn't argue any further, as a gentle wind picked up, lifting me from my feet and planting me inside the gates, on grass greener than any I'd ever seen on earth. Wildflowers of every color sprouted around my feet as I walked, and I looked around. Down a path I could see buildings built from the clouds, but I saw nobody I knew. This didn't really surprise me. Even if this was really heaven, my family surely hated me for what I had become. I looked at the lines crossing my arms and could feel the shame, when I suddenly found myself clad in white robes, the marks concealed.\n\nFeeling a little braver, I headed down the path and towards the structures. Maybe they wouldn't know what I was. As I walked into a square, people of all walks of life turned to regard me curiously. There were golden-haired children, brunettes, redheads, tall men, black men, white women, everyone. Even babes in the arms of their mothers. And they were all smiling. \"Welcome.\" The word came from all around. There were inquiries to my name, where I had come from, but I politely dismissed them and moved on. Surely there was something more...mine. What was heaven without happiness? I was feeling overwhelmed.\n\nA familiar sight then became apparent to me: An alleyway. I turned to head down and the voices faded. I sat down at the end and pulled my knees up to my chest. This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Tears fell from my eyes and faded into the cloud below me. I closed my eyes and wept. This was all a mistake.\n\nIt was only the sound of someone approaching that roused me from crying. \"Go away.\" I sobbed into my arms.\n\n\"I did, once. But I never will again.\" The voice was gentle, and sweet, with an air of familiarity and comfort. Why did I know that voice. I looked up, cautious and yet curious. I saw a tall brunette woman standing next to me, holding out a hand in invitation. She was so young, my age, but she looked like someone I had known once. Someone who had been taken from me, destroyed by an alcoholic husband and a smoking gun.\n\n\"Mother, I'm sorry...I never meant to be like this.\" I started to cry again. I had only taken to drugs after years in foster homes and a sporadic but bullied time at school. I hugged my arms to me, but she took one hand and pulled it towards her, pulling back the sleeves. \"There is nothing for me to forgive.\" I was shocked to see that the lines were gone. The scars, the veins...everything was as it should have been, pristine and smooth. \"Wha--?\" I was confused, and yet I felt lighter than I ever head, more clear-minded than I had been in over a decade.\n\n\"They say time heals most wounds, but nothing can do as much as love.\" My mother knelt next to me and held me in her arms, like she hadn't been able to since I was five. For all I thought the cursing, the prison, the drugs would send me to hell, I never knew I needed heaven so badly until she hugged me again. For the first time in a long time, I was home." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: Ever since you got into running you became friends with a cheetah girl at your local park. Today you noticed her acting all weird while running together. As it turns out she’s in heat and you’re the only one she trusts for help" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Claire was panting. She hardly ever had this much difficulty on a run, but today it was like she had climbed 10 mountains in a row. What was more was that she didn't meet my gaze, almost like she was ashamed.\n\nAfter our warm up lap, we broke off to sit in the shade for a moment to stretch. All throughout, her tail was going mad and she would snuggle up a bit too close. Claire was practically glued to me.\n\n\"Hey Stripes, is there something up?\" I asked, breaking the ice.\n\nShe looked away. \"Oh it's... nothing.\"\n\n\"Obviously not or you'd look me in the eye. What's going on hun?\"\n\nHer tail twitched in embarrassment. \"Promise not to tell?\"\n\n\"Cross my heart.\"\n\n\"Well, I... I'm in heat...\" she snapped her eyes shut, turning away in shame.\n\n\"Oh...\" I looked dumbfounded at her. \"Is there anything I can do to help?\" The question just fell out of my mouth. Honestly, I've had the hots for her since I'd known her. And now, to find out she's unbelievably wound up and raring to go, have to be honest, I popped wood instantly.\n\nFinally she looked fully at me. Her eyes were dilated, nearly popping out of her sockets. \"I need you to take me Charles. Take me to the ends of the earth and fuck brains out. It hurts and I need to come.\"\n\nFuuckk. If I wasn't hard already. \"Well shit, why don't we say you were feeling under the weather? Tell Coach Hawkins you need to head home?\"\n\nAll she could do was nod.\n\nLuckily, Coach was not a hard man to convince. Claire coughed once or twice and we were home free. On the ride home, she could hardly keep her hands off me. More than once we nearly careened off the road as she started feeling up my leg.\n\nOnce we were at my house, we were all over each other, kissing, fondling, grabbing.\n\nMercifully, my parents were away and we had the whole place to ourselves.\n\nClothes quickly discarded, we wound up in my room.\n\nI tossed her gently on my bed, fully erect cock in hand. With a few good luck tugs, I approached teasingly.\n\nClaire was ready, beautiful pussy (heh) dripping with anticipation. I don't know what it is about this girl, but the more I absorbed her, the more I needed her. She was just so magnetic.\n\nSliding my hands down her soft furred legs, my fingers lightly danced across her yearning sex. She could not stand it, and growled in agitation. I know it was only out of frustration, but fuck was it hot.\n\nContinuing my teasing voyage, I traced around each of her petite breasts, each one eliciting a moan of desperation from her.\n\nReaching her amazing whispered lips, I brought her into a deep passionate kiss. The months of agony just beating it to the thought of her poured from me into this kiss, and she responded with the powerful lust she had pent up.\n\nIt was long and intense, and almost a shame when we split finally. Almost.\n\nTaking my rock hard rod, I placed it against her soaked lips. Another frustrated growl emitted from deep within her.\n\nI began rubbing my rod up and down her yearning lips, exacerbating her unbelievable need.\n\nGrowl after moan, she finally eked out a \"please.\"\n\nAnd with that, I plunged.\n\nAn earth shaking roar tore from her. Her tail was swishing violently, and her claws dug deep into my linens. I'd get them replaced.\n\nAnd with that spine tingling display, I began.\n\nOver and over, I withdrew and plunged, reaching deeper and deeper into my friend, trying to explore wonderous cavern of pleasure.\n\nEach plunge stole and growl of delight and a moan of ecstasy and it was miraculous I didn't blow sooner. But I stayed strong.\n\nPlunge after plunge, I poured the months of stolen glances, months of nearly unrequited affection, months of 'what if's?'\n\nNow it was for certain. Pump after pump, I soothed her unbearable lust and sated my desire for her.\n\nAnd on it went for seeming hours, just the two of us fucking.\n\nMy linens were tore to shreds and covered in her fur, but I couldn't care less. I finally had Claire, 8 inches at a time.\n\nIt was reaching a fever pitch. Our hours long affair was reaching its crescendo and it seemed we were going to come together, like some beautiful fairytale.\n\nAs we reached completion, she bolted upright, wrapping her warm arms around me as I fucked her.\n\n\"Please cum in me,\" she begged. \"I need your load inside me!\"\n\nIt was by far the sexiest thing I had ever heard, and was all I needed to send me over the edge.\n\nA few powerful plunges and I was gone. I buried myself deep inside her pussy and fired my load into her core.\n\nClaire erupted in an earsplitting roar as she came, absolutely dousing both of us in her love juices.\n\nCollapsing into each other, all we could do was pant, exhausted.\n\nLooking into the other's eyes, we couldn't help but giggle. What an utterly insane thing.\n\nTwo friends, fucking themselves senseless. It was beautiful." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You make a pact with the Devil, agreeing to give him your soul in return for his service. However, when the job is done and he comes to collect, your soul frightens him beyond belief." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "''I believe we had an agreement'' he said, his red eyes glowing in the dark. The cloaked character stepped through the open door without waiting for a response. His eyes scanned the home, the walls filled with family photos of laughing children, often embracing a balding man.\n\n''Beautiful pictures, Eric'' the sinister appearance noted in his cold emotionless matter. ''Glad to see you doing so well, now. I remember different times. I suppose you do too?''\n\nEric, barely reacting to the events taking place, nodded. He cleared his throat. ''Yes. Yes I do.''\n\n''So then I will assume that you know why am I here?'' the appearance asked again.\n\nEric nervously walked into the kitchen. The uncomfort the man carried into the house spread quickly and started to crawl its way to his heart. He knew very well what the devil had come to do. He had thought of it hourly, daily, always fearing the day he would come and take what was his to claim. His soul.\n\n''Can I offer you something? A cup of eh, tea?'' Eric asked in weak attempt to change the subject.\n\n''The only thing I'm here for is your soul, Eric, and unfortunately for you that is no longer yours to offer.'' he replied, an evil glow spreading from his eyes.\n\n''Ah, yes'' Eric cleared his throat again. ''Of course.''\n\nHis mind raced back to the unfaithful day at the hospital. ''Will she be alright, dad?'' his middle child asked him. The machines surrounding her little sister frightened her and she was confused, never confronted with the brittleness of life. Tommy, her elder brother, put his hand on her head and softly stroke her hair. He also looked at Eric, and asked the same question. ''I hope so. I hope with all my heart. I would do anything'' he replied.\n\n''Anything. Even my soul'' Eric thought bitterly. The devil had appeared not late after, and he had taken advantage of the weakness in the man's heart. His soul in exchange for the youth of his children. He had seen them grow up, and his house emptied while his offspring started their own adventures. Eric hold no grudge. It had been worth it.\n\nHe took a short breath as he forced himself back to the living room, where the devil still stood, slowly losing patience.\n\n''So, let's give it a go, then?'' he said, confronting fate.\n\n''My pleasure'' the devil said, his voice dripping a slight hint of excitement. He took a devicelike box and placed it on Eric's chest, slowly rising with the rhythm of his heart.\n\nEric appeared to have heard the miniscule change in his voice. ''More a being of the dead, I take it? Shocking, almost.'' he exclaimed. He no longer feared the appearence, and he tried to leave the earth in the most dignified way he possibly could. ''I'm more of a person of the living, unsprisingly'' he continued. ''Death is expected, dull and eternal. Life...life is an opportunity. A short adventure. One you couldn't, possibly'' Eric said, strongly emphasizing the last word, ''deny from someone.'' He now looked directly in the devil's eyes.\n\nThe devil stared back. He remained silent, weighing Eric's words. Anticipating a single beep, maybe two, from the device, he knew he would not have to face this painful mortal for too long. Lucifer was not often confronted with his deeds, and even less impacted him so that he reflected on his actions. The device shook.\n\nFive beeps. Not one. Not even two or three. Five.\n\n''What?'' Lucifer asked himself in surprise. Five beeps was... extremely unusual.\n\n''Are we done, now?'' Eric asked impatiently. ''I'd just prefer to, you know, die now, if that's comfortable with you.''\n\nLucifer cleared his throat. ''Ahem, yes, well, I'm afraid we'll have to postpone this exchange. The device isn't designed for operating under these, shall we say, conditions'' he spoke softly, ignoring the surprise and flickering of hope in the man's eyes. ''So I'll be going now, then.'' he said and walked out of the door. Eric's gaze shifted towards the hallway, but he was already gone.\n\n''Five beeps. That's too much. Even for me'' Lucifer thought. As he stared at his device, he repeated the device's options mentally. ''One for a death, two for a longer life, three for the wealth of the world. Four...four was for life.\n\nFive. Five..What was five?'' He asked. He knew, and yet he didn't answer. A being with powerful emotions so conflicting, he tried to push it away. It was almost fate that it wasn't in the emotions nature to be pushed away. It slowly crept on him, embraced him. The thought. The feeling.\n\nLove.\n\nFive beeps had been love, too much love. And it was not in his power to take that soul, a soul that loved that much. ''Not very good at the job, are we now?'' Lucifer mumbled to himself, his voice in strong contrast with the tear rolling down his cheek." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: You meet Anubis when you die. Your heart weighs the exact same as the feather." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "A jackal's face was never designed to convey frustration, but Anubis' snout was twisted in an unmistakably human expression. A single ebony nail carefully filed to a razor point, until the only possible word for it was 'claw', tapped out a steady rhythm on the desk in front of him. I held my breath.\n\n\"This has never happened before,\" he finally announced. I couldn't tell if that was good or bad, and opted for silence and what I hoped was a respectfully inquisitive expression. My heart felt like it might beat its way straight through my ribs and fall out onto the table in front of me.\n\nThis was, obviously, impossible. My heart was already on the table.\n\nThe traitorous hunk of meat swayed gently in its golden dish like a particularly choice cut in a butcher's shop. On the other side, perfectly balanced, a single white feather sat in an identical dish. Anubis had explained the process to me beforehand, but I'd remembered enough from my history classes to get the gist. If my heart was lighter than the feather, I was worthy, and got to move on to paradise. If the feather was lighter, then the sins I had committed while alive were too great, and my heart would be served to Ammit for breakfast. I had seen her as I came in; my heart probably wouldn't even touch the sides of her throat on the way down.\n\nThe sound of the god's voice snapped me out of a lurid mental image of yawning crocodile jaws.\n\n\"It is of no consequence. The matter is before us now, and demands a resolution. You cannot simply remain here at the gate of the afterlife.\"\n\n\"What are you going to do with me?\" I asked. And blinked. Anubis was holding a single coin between two of his claws, apparently without having needed to go to the trouble of reaching into his pocket. It glinted faintly in the lamplight like a drawn knife.\n\n\"A single flip of the coin,\" he explained. \"Heads and you will be judged just, tails and you will be found wanting.\" Anubis watched me for a moment, and when I didn't say anything, launched the coin into the air with a brisk flick.\n\nThe coin seemed to pause at the tip of its arc, held in place while the Fates bickered with each other over which way my destiny would land. My entire life passed before my eyes in that impossibly long fraction of a second. I saw every decision I was proud of and every one I regretted, every time I was kind and every time I was cruel, the whole scope of my life passing by in a single unbroken line like a thread unwinding from a spool. It wasn't perfect. It was glorious and embarassing and so, so complicated, and every single part of it was completely and utterly irrelevant in the face of blind stupid chance.\n\nPart of me wanted to yell at the unfairness of it all. No, scratch that: EVERY part of me wanted to yell.\n\nMy hand was moving before my brain had the chance to step in. It was a quick and simple motion to pluck the coin out of the air, but I found myself sweating as though I'd just finished a marathon. Anubis hadn't blinked once. I could tell, because I hadn't dared to either.\n\n\"That's not fair,\" I blurted when the silence became too much to bear. \"You can't just... I mean, I demand... no, I very respectfully ask...\"\n\n\"Enough.\"\n\nMy jaw snapped shut. Anubis steepled his fingers and leaned forwards to rest his elbows on his desk, and I was suddenly and vividly reminded of a job interview I'd once had.\n\n\"I have seen enough to judge your worth. You may put the coin down.\"\n\n\"Wait, so the flip didn't actually matter?\"\n\n\"Of course not. How absurd of a notion it would be, to allow mere chance to decide the caliber of your soul. The test was whether you would witness a failure of justice from one in power, and simply say nothing in the hope that your own hide might be spared.\"\n\n\"So... I passed, then?\"\n\nAnubis gestured to a door on his left. It slipped open without a sound, just a crack, but enough to allow a single ray of intensely bright light to pierce through the gloom of his chamber.\n\n\"You have passed. Proceed to your eternal bliss, mortal.\"\n\nMy legs felt like jelly, but I was just about able to get to my feet. Halfway to the door I stopped and turned back to Anubis, who finally blinked in faint surprise. I made a vague sort of half-motion towards my heart in its golden dish.\n\n\"Do I, uh, need to, like... swallow that, or...?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Oh. Okay.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: The strongest mage civilization, having conquered 90% of the galaxy decide to break the ancient law that decreed that the planet Sol-3 shall never be approached. They found out the reason behind the law the hard way." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Seelan stood from the captain's seat as he gazed at the latest target of their conquest. A small solar system with a mere eight planets, only one of which had life on it. And that planet was tiny, and weak.\n\n\"Sir, we will be approaching planet Sol-3 in three quelns.\". The helm officer said as he he looked through the crystal display.\n\n\"Good. Stay on course.\" Seelan said.\n\n\"Sir, are you sure we should be doing this?\" Asked his first mate, Devia. She looked through the knowledge stone in front of her, and was clearly nervous. The woman's arm fins were half extended, making it easy to see her state of mind. \"It's just that, well, you know the old laws.\"\n\n\"I know them.\" Seelan said. \"I also don't care. Those laws were made thousands of welts ago by mages using inferior scrying and future viewing spells. Our current spells show that the people on this planet are weak and primative. Why, they still use technology instead of magic. Can you even imagine it? An entire species using machines to build instead of simply conjuring whatever they want. They use combustion engines instead of superior magic crystal arrays to power their vehicles. They use simple chemical projectiles instead of attack spells. There's nothing to fear from these simple creatures.\"\n\n\"Yes...yes, sir.\" Devia said. Her arm fins fully extended. What did she have to be afraid of? This would be an easy victory.\n\nThe ship soon reached the tiny blue and green planet and Seelan's head fin started to rise in excitement.\n\n\"We've reached the planet, sir.\" The helm officer said.\n\n\"Good. Begin--\"\n\n\"Sir, we have a problem.\" The head magiengineer said. His voice rang through a communication crystal on the command seat.\n\n\"What problem?\" Seelan asked around a sigh.\n\n\"Well, sir, we're losing power fast. Much faster than we should be. Faster than we can recharge the engines.\"\n\n\"How could this be? Were they damaged?\"\n\n\"No, sir. It's like something's sucking the power out of them.\"\n\n\"We're under attack? All hands to battle stations!\"\n\n\"No, sir.\" Engineering said. \"We're not under attack. The magic is just being pulled out of us. Don't know why, it just is.\"\n\n\"Diviners!\" Seelan shouted. The trio of sight magic users huddled around their pale red gem. Their arm fins extended in moments.\n\n\"It... it's the planet sir. The whole thing is filled with iron. It's draining magic at an alarming speed.\"\n\n\"I-iron?\" Seelan asked. His arm fins half extended. \"But we're shielded against iron. It shouldn't be affecting us.\"\n\n\"We're shielded against small sources of iron.\" Devia said. \"Asteroids, comets. Things like that. But an entire planet? Our shields can't handle that amount of drain. Now I see. Now I see why the laws are there. Why the people use technology instead of magic. It's not that they don't use magic, it's that they can't use it.\"\n\nEvery arm fin on the bridge was fully extended. Nobody wanted to think about what would happen to them when confronted with such a great amount of the magic draining metal.\n\n\"Retreat. Helm, get us out of here before that death trap of a planet starts getting to us.\"\n\nThe helm officer was already working on just that even before the captain gave the order. Nobody complained about his actions.\n\nAnd so it was that the mighty warship of the galaxy spanning Fae Empire retreated before even setting foot on the tiny planet of Sol-3." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: whenever a baby is born the parents can assign them their skill points, everyone has 10 points. Strength, agility, intelligence, charm, luck, constitution, special. No one really knows what special does, until your parents put all 10 points into it" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I looked over the edge another time - it seemed higher than it was just earlier.\n\nTaking a step back, I curled up into a ball and sat on the floor of the rooftop. It was cold.\n\nJen warned me this would happen. She was the only I3Ch0 I knew, but something told me they were all like that; giving you information and not caring about how it made people feel. She told me that only 1 out of 13 people who contemplated suicide actually go through with it. Only 1 out of 29 who go to a rooftop to jump actually leap to their death after seeing how fucking scary it was. And something about our bodies self-preservation mode kicking in and flooding our minds with stay-the-fuck-alive signals.\n\nWell, she was right. Half-right, at least. It was a long way down;\n\nthe people along the street were just tiny dots. The hot dog stand at the corner of Boon's Avenue looked like a tiny umbrella on a fancy drink.\n\nI reminded myself why I was here. I couldn't take it anymore. My life was a nightmare.\n\nFor as long as I could remember, life had been terrible. I was the lousiest person in every room, an outcast. Loser didn't even begin to describe it. A 15-year old pariah.\n\nI had to watch as my friends excelled in school. Blake enjoyed his domination in sports as an SA3; Jen breezing through her classes. Haley was the most popular in school and most likely to go on to become some bullshit politician making stupid decisions in national policy - she had 5 in charm and was I0. Her parents gave her L3 so she's probably set for life.\n\nAnd me? I was the first person in the history of the universe to have dumbass parents put all 10 in S. I like to believe they thought it would result in something good, great even.\n\nI wouldn't know, they left before I turned 5 years old. 10S turned out to be a total scam.\n\nI never found out what it meant and it never gave me any sort of advantage in any fucking thing in my entire life. I was always the weaker, dumber, unluckier person in every situation I found myself in. My health was also deteriorating, unlike the Co pointers with their flawless, unfailing bodies.\n\nI tried to make it work. I did. I worked harder than everybody else, but the system was rigged. I failed my classes and couldn't outrun the slowest A1's in my school. Even the girls.\n\nAnd so I came to this rooftop. I liked this rooftop. It always smelled like it just rained, and it was quiet and I was always alone with my thoughts.\n\nI stood up and walked to the edge again. I emptied my mind and jumped off. I was falling, and time seemed to slow down. I did it.\n\nThat'll show Jen.\n\nAnd then I wasn't falling.\n\nI looked around and found myself suspended in the mid-air, arms high and legs spread. Did I die while falling? I looked down and saw that I was still a good 12 floors high. The hot dog stand was a hot dog stand again, and I could see the neon glow from its sign.\n\nAnd in the next moment, I was suddenly on top of the roof again. I blinked, and realized I was holding my breath. What the FUCK just happened?\n\nI was ready to end it all. Could I not end it all?\n\nCould I not end my shitty excuse of a life?\n\nWas I... immortal?" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Describe a completely normal scenario or activiry in a fashion that makes it unsettling." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Small, fleshy tendrils convulsed in midair, bathed by a pale, synthetic light. Their owner -- A tall creature with beady eyes and a shortened snout -- stood expressionless above the table, examining its prey which had long since deceased. The creature appeared to have evolved from some form of mammal, not too dissimilar from us, but its bones seemed to have grown beyond what its skin could cover, as small pieces extruded from the tips of each of its feelers. Its fur was completely missing, except atop its head where it flowed a few feet towards the floor.\n\nIt clacked its unnaturally red lips, stained by the blood of other Earthly creatures, before slowly clasping the object on the table. Unlike other animals, the creature had the intelligence to combine several different forms of prey and had ground and baked different ingredients to create yet another dish. One that was more fitting of its gruesome pallette.\n\nIn its final form, the food had a soft, white outer shell and was filled with what could only be described as ground bones and blood. As the creature bit into it, red goo oozed from the back, falling back onto the table where a small plate rested, ready to catch any crumb so it could savor every last bite.\n\nThese creatures had become commonplace as of late, slowly taking over the world we once knew, forcing us into hiding. Legend has it that they will eat anything and everything they can find, but not before torturing it and flaying its dead corpse. These creatures were intelligent, ruthless, and vengeful. They were unwilling to share their space with other types of animals would happily murder others to have their way.\n\nAs I slowly backed into the shadows, watching the bag of flesh from behind a rut in the wall, I began to wonder what it's concoction tasted like. For something prepared so delicately, it must taste reasonable, right? I hadn't eaten in so long. There was nowhere to find food anymore after these beasts began stealing everything they could find and killing all my brethren.\n\nSoon, the light was turned off, leaving the room in complete and utter darkness. If I were to escape, now would be my time. I listened for the creature's movements, waiting for the creaking floor to stop before dashing past the table it had been feasting at before. I could make it. There was a door at the far side of the room, if I could just...\n\nThe light turned on, and the creature shook the entire room with its shriek. I could feel my heart beat faster, I just had to keep running, but I could hear the giant's footsteps quickly stomping behind me as it roared.\n\nI made it out into the tall grass and kept running as far as I could. I don't know how far, I ran exactly, but it was far enough that I could no longer see the house from the ground. I climbed a tree and looked behind me, ensuring it had not followed.\n\nFrom this height, I could see the house in the distance and the ominous shadow of the creature, illuminated from behind by the same light as before. It was undoubtedly guarding its territory with guttural growls and shrieks, waiting for another animal to murder and consume.\n\nThis is the world from the perspective of a rat, watching a human eat a sandwich. Peanut butter and jelly, to be precise." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 900-1000 words. Prompt: Humans tenacity to fight hand-to-hand with creatures far stronger than them and the fact they win a large portion of the time makes them terrifying to aliens." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Somewhere in the vast nothingness of space lies a small bar, its name translated to English would be some close to the Xenomygolans hat dispenser. The joke doesn't work too well in English. Despite that, a human by the name of Veronica decides to visit, apparently it has real good beer.\n\nAs Veronica was walking inside she noticed at the front door of the bar is a small creature, known to humans as a silent speaker, it's sorta like a parrot by more fleshy, still beautiful though. It's mostly used to give notice when somebody enters a location due to its admittedly annoying wails being able to be heard by just about everything, well almost anything. Humans can't hear the darn thing for some reason.\n\nSo while everyone else waited for the speaker to shut up, Veronica quietly walked up to the bar. As she took her seat, the Barkeep seemed to be talking to another patron or at least trying to, they seemed to be some sort of half fish, half some other alien thing. The Barkeep itself seemed to be some sort of anthropomorphic moth, Sorta, describing alien things is hard ok!\n\nAfter wrapping up their previous conversation, the barkeep turned to Veronica, “welcome to- mother light save me- I mean, uh…, welcome!” Veronica laughed, this moth was kinda cute, through she could deal without the eyes and other things that had started staring.\n\n“Glad to be here, I've heard you got good beer here.” said Veronica. “We do, that's why we're the hat dispenser” joked the barkeeper, despite the joke still not working, Veronica laughed. “If that's the case, then give me the best thing you've got!” the barkeeper nodded and very quickly went to go grab the beer (and totally not to go hide for a second while trying to figure out what to feel, currently they were contemplating either fear or lust.)\n\nAs Veronica waited for the barkeep, she started to hear chatter, too quiet to hear in detail, but she could tell it was about her. Suddenly she heard the sound of something scraping against another thing, presumably a chair against what ever the floor was made out of.\n\nTurning around, she was met with, a massive creature, a hypercrasher. It was a deep red colour, it had eye stalks and walked on all fours with sharp claws. However, the most worrying thing was that it was covered with many body modification, some due to loss of limbs, others seemed just to hit harder.\n\n“So you're a human, aye, don't look so tough to me.” The creature said, “Don't get why people are scared of ya, I think I could take ya” Veronica stood up and grinned, “Oh really tough guy? are you threatening me?”\n\n“Tough Gal, but yeah, I am!” replied Tough Gal\n\nVeronica chuckled a tiny bit before “Alright, Tough Gal, hand-to-claw combat, you and me, first to call microgloth loses.” For a second, Tough Gal's expression shifted to something a bit less confident, before she returned to her previous expression, “Alright then, on the count of three-”\n\n“Easy, three, two, one, go!” With little warning, Veronica launched a haymaker right into Tough Gal's face, “Glorious-what was that!” cried Tough Gal as she recoiled from the punch. “You said on the count of three!” yelled Veronica as she went for another punch, which was blocked by some Tough Gal's Modifications. “I expect you to wait!” said Tough Gal as she started to slash with her claws.\n\nVeronica laughed, “You shouldn't have!” Quickly, Veronica went in for a low gut punch, which was easily blocked.\n\n“Is that all you-”\n\nOnly for her to come right again with another haymaker to the face, sending Tough Gal to one of the tables that had been left vacant right before the fight began. (Though they were still watching, just from some place safe.)\n\n“Oh now you've done it!” Tough Gal yelled as one of her modifications whirled to life, two grappling hooks launched from two of her legs, narrowly missing Veronica but leaving her trapped between the lines that connected the hooks and Tough Gal.\n\n“That's cheating!” yelled Veronica, only for Tough Gal to growl, “You did it first, now stay still and die!” As quick as the grappling hooks shot out, they started pulling Tough Gal towards them, despite that Veronica stood still, waiting for Tough Gal to get close. The timing had to be perfect, and just as Tough Gal got close.\n\nVeronica jumped out of the way, causing Tough Gal to have a straight 2-second flight straight into a wall. “Glorious di- ARGH” Tough Gal yelled in pain as her body was put straight through the wall. “Say it and I won't have to keep beating your ass!” yelled Veronica. For a second, Tough gal looked as if she might have kept going, but she was also halfway through a wall and would really like to just get back to drinking, “Alright, you got me, microgloth.”\n\nWith a triumphant smile, Veronica returned to the bar, letting Tough gals friends help her out.\n\nSitting at the bar was the barkeeper who had returned a while ago, he was feeling a lot of emotions, but fear was not one of them. “I-I got you the beer, uh, ma'am.”\n\nVeronica smirked, “Thanks a lot, here's a tip.” Silently, Veronica slid over a lot of money and a piece of paper with a universal address and a winky face. as the Barkeep finished burning the note into their skull to never forget, they looked up only to see the cup full beer empty, and no Veronica.\n\nThis was not the first time, and it wouldn't be the last time, some random human decided to fist fight something way out of their league and somehow win. But it did set the precedent at this bar at least to stay away from the humans and to not mess with them, for good reason." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: You’ve just woken up from a little nap in class. The year is 2500. All the desks are gone and the walls have crashed to the ground. The whiteboard says “You’ve woken up. We’ve kept you safe for as long as possible, but it’s not safe now. Run while you still can, trust NOBODY.”" }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "I was going to fall asleep. Of course I was. Mr. Jacob's class is the worst. He'd always ramble on and on about his glory days. Back when he was in the Army, and he was \"apparently\" a god-like warrior. His glasses and tie bouncing around as he gestured here and there with the energy of a million bunnies. God.\n\nI felt my eyelids creeping closer and closer together as he rambled on about kinetic energy. Something about Newtons third law. Then... I was out.\n\nAs my eyes flutter open. It takes a second. A moment ago I was in a well-lit classroom. Sunlight flooding in from the windows. Now... I think I'm outside. The grass seems to have long ago browned, the walls had literally crumbled around me. There's nobody anywhere around...\n\nJust me.\n\nMy desk.\n\nThe whiteboard.\n\nScribbled on the whiteboard was a note. There was quite a bit to it, but the largest text, right at the bottom is what caught my eye. Run.\n\nI looked around. Trying to take in what is going on. My heart was pounding in my chest like never before. I started breathing heavy, and trying to calm myself down.\n\nOut by the football field. That's right. We had a shelter, from the cold war. We weren't allowed in it, but maybe it's still standing. I stood, brushing the dust off of my clothes. I ran across the rotted field.\n\nThat's when it hit me. There are no birds.... no insects.... no people.... no.... anything.\n\nAs I rounded the rubble of what was once the gym. I saw the entrance to the shelter. It had been broken open. It was accessible, but what's in there. I crept closer, trying to see if it could be a good place to hide. My clothes were stiff with years of sediment. How did I even survive in that spot for so long!?\n\nAs I got close enough a pungent odour hit me. I could see grease had been slathered onto the remaining walls of the shelter entrance, and from deep within a stirring. Just for a moment. Then nothing.\n\nI froze... was something down there. Then I heard a deafening roar. The beast began such a clatter, such a commotion. It must have been smashing into walls and through furniture. Wailing as it ran towards the stairs. I began to take steps back. Where could I go. The grease might slow it down... it's blood. That's not grease. The entirety of the shelters entrance was coated with thick, stringy, coagulated blood. The dedicated remains of the beasts victims.\n\nStill banging around down in the shelter, I was running full-tilt back towards the remains of the school. Maybe I could hide... somewhere. Then I tripped. I looked down. The leather on my boot had dried out and began to break away. I stripped off both my boots and ran on my bare feet over the dried grass and rugged dirt.\n\nWhen I reached the rubble. I ducked down behind the small remnant of one of the outer walls. Suddenly a hand landed on my shoulder, and just before I shrieked another landed on, and blocked my mouth. The woman turned my head to face her, not letting up on my mouth. She was a rugged woman. Middle-aged. Sandy blond, dirty hair, and tattered clothing. \"Come with me, we're glad you're here.\"\n\nWith that, we snuck away, and as we did, I chanced a peak back. The beast was sniffing around. It's huge lumbering head on it's spiked spine taking in air and lifting itself up and down over and over again as it tried to find it's prey.\n\nThat's when I saw it. The glasses... the remnants of the tie... it's Mr. Jacobs..." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 800-900 words. Prompt: extraterrestrials encounter mundane human technology. Describe their discussions and theories about the item without directly identifying it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Klhhagh, High Commander of Sector-3 Historical Tech Research, slithered into the room and approached the display console. It showed a long black object, roughly 18 Skn in length. The object itself had been placed in a secure container that was designed to withstand the most violent of explosions. He turned to the Chief Researcher, and addressed him. “Snaghht!” he demanded, “Isn’t this a little over the top for such a small device?”\n\nSnaghht bowed his primary frontal tentacles in humbled respect, and used his lower left ones to indicate a rounded section at the front of the device. “Apologies, High Commander, but protocol states that when a possible class 4 device is found within the environment of an aggressive species it must be-“ Klhhagh impatiently cut him off with a wave of an ommatophore. Snaghht was genetically predisposed to rambling on, given half a chance. It was amazing that he and his wife had ever managed to lay egg sacks. He imagined that Snaghht probably talked incessantly throughout the whole thing.\n\n“So it is a transmitter of some sort?” he asked.\n\nSnaghht pressed a button on the console, and the display flickered to show the interior of the device. It certainly didn’t look like any kind of transmitter he knew, even if it was from a long extinct species. “Uhm, almost undoubtedly.” Snaghht said, “And not just that, it transmits via very specific bandwidths of light…” He trailed off and went a slight shade of purple from embarrassment.\n\n“I see…” Said the High Commander. He didn’t like Snaghht in the slightest, but if indeed this device did transmit light signals, it could well be incredibly dangerous. Snaghht, it seemed, had made a good decision for once. “Good work.” He said, and watched the purple drain from the researcher’s fore-body. “Have you identified what kind of light?” he asked.\n\nSlaghht coughed and said “We believe it to be Infrared, High Commander.” And then, seeing the Commander stiffen, he hurriedly added “I know it’s not very likely, Sir, but this is from a species that appears to wiped itself out with its own savagery!”\n\n“Are you telling me,” Klhhagh said in a low, aggressive tone, the hue of his normally clear abdomen darkening and going opaque, “that you have knowingly and willingly brought an infrared transmitter on board my vessel?” He raised himself up to his full height, and loomed over Slaghht. “You do realise that one third of this vessel’s crew is Hlthan breed? Do you have any idea what this device could do to them?!”\n\nSlagght backed away quickly, and waved his longest tentacle at the display. “Uh, yes, Commander, but it’s highly unlikely it works…” He scrambled to the back wall, venting gasses laden with scents designed to placate his particular species. A disgusting habit that Klhhagh hated with a passion, natural instinct or not.\n\nSlaghht was now pointing to the much larger display on the back wall, and speaking altogether too quickly. “See, here, at the rear of the device? This is where the fuel cells would be. But as you can see, they are completely corroded! And in corroding, they have damaged the internal structure of the device. It is completely inoperative. Placing it in the container was merely a formality.” He stopped, his air sacks pulsating wildly, and Klhhagh took a moment to calm down, looking intently at the large display. Slowly, he felt his body cooling as the pores began to excrete the mucus that covered his entire skin.\n\n“Okay,” He said, “So was it some sort of weapon?”\n\nSlaghht seemed to consider this for a moment, looking the image of the device up and down. “I don’t think so, Sir.” He said at length. “Although primates are usually driven by war and destruction.” He pointed out the flat top of the device. It was covered in little bumps. “These may well have been buttons. I think the device had a range of functions. Or maybe a single function with tiny variants depending on what combination you pressed.” He mimicked tapping buttons with his lower tentacles, “and Hlthan are a unique species. They have never been recorded this far out. Also, there appears to be no evidence that these primates ever met any kind of extra-terrestrial life. And infrared has no effect on primates.” He became aware he was still pressing imaginary buttons, and stopped.\n\nKlhhagh walked over to the little window in the containment unit, and peered through at the device, seeing it directly for the first time. It didn’t look threatening at all. “So,” He said quietly, “it fires infrared beams and is made by a species that cannot directly interact with that wavelength. It has little buttons on one side, and a round firing array on the front…” He thought for a while, trying to figure it out, piece it all together. But he couldn’t. The device made no sense! “What is it?!”" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: Most succubi run through men like candy. But not her. She was half Listless. She savors and adores her young studly prey until their final days." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Harold, why don’t you come back to bed?” She posed suggestively in the doorway, smiling at the old man as he looked up from the computer screen.\n\n“I’m making progress, honey. I might be retired, but I think I’ve still got it in me to finish my novel.” She pouted prettily and he shook his head. “Five more minutes, okay? Maybe ten? I just want to finish editing this new chapter, I think it’s starting to come together.” She smiled and dropped her robe. She’d known him for decades, more than half of the almost eighty years of his life. He’d noticed that her body had remained supple and youthful, although she’d let her hair go grey and added a few signs of age to her face… he’d accepted the idea that it was luck and good genetics. Harald sighed, and typed for a moment, made some change to the manuscript. “Please, just a moment…” She walked towards him with a dancer’s grace and slid down under his desk. He groaned faintly and made another small change to the manuscript.\n\n“I suppose we can manage something even if you insist on staying at your computer.” He was wearing a pair of sweatpants, and she could see the outline of his erection through them. Part of her magic from the succubus side of her heritage included granting any male partner instant, enduring, erections. He could still fuck like a young man even in his late seventies, and he accepted it was luck and good genetics. She reached up and pulled his cock out, admired it. She insisted he keep his pubic hair trimmed, and he humored her. She went forward, took the cock in her mouth and made him groan again.\n\n“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?” She would have smiled if she hadn’t been using her mouth for other things. How little he knew, even after all of their years together. She’d miss this one when he was gone. He hadn’t been her first or even her twenty first, but he was special in a lot of ways. Especially as a young man, he’d been nearly as sexually voracious as she was – and his artistic ambition had been something special, like a fine wine. She’d found him during his MFA program, trying to write the next great novel while working a dull corporate job. A couple years later, he’d decided that he had a bright future in sales, and his professional career had been well paid but middling. The novel had languished for decades, getting a little attention on nights and weekends but never quite coming together. Other things kept getting in the way…\n\nShe’d been concentrating on the cockhead, stimulating it with her tongue while she sucked. Now she began to take his cock deeper into her mouth, focusing her attention on it… he stopped typing, groaned again and slid forward in his seat to give her a better angle. She felt a jolt of pleasure knowing that he’d given up trying to work, and began to rub her clit while she sucked. The way that the novel had remained in his mind, that his artistic ambition had never died… she was partially a sloth demon, and the frustration of that ambition had translated into constant low-grade stimulation. It was as if she’d been subtly edging for decades, delaying an orgasm and making it better the entire time. The sex had satisfied her other desires, and meant that the long, teasing, denial of that side of her had been intensely erotic rather than frustrating. He groaned again, grasped her hair with shaking hands. She could feel herself getting wet, kept rubbing her clit. A succubus could get off remarkably easy, and she was seriously multiorgasmic. She could feel something coming, knew that if she let herself she’d orgasm before he did, orgasm on her knees with his cock in her mouth. The image added to her excitement, and she began to use both hands to stimulate herself while taking his erection deeper and sucking harder. She felt him tighten his grip on her hair, heard his voice quiver as he moaned and groaned and gave himself up entirely to his lust. Not long now.\n\nShe kept sucking while she orgasmed, savoring the sensation. When she’d finished, she slowed down and let his cock leave her mouth, wet with her saliva.\n\n“Now, why don’t you come back to bed? Harold, we could have some fun…” He laughed, a happy and contented laugh:\n\n“You really are insatiable. Marrying you was probably the best decision I’ve ever made.” He hesitated for a second to save his work. “Alright, let’s see what we can do.”\n\n\nWhen they’d finished a long and enthusiastic session of lovemaking that would have been impressive for a man in his thirties – let alone a man in his late seventies – they lay together looking into each other’s eyes. Harold was smiling, a happy and contented smile.\n\n“I was right, definitely. Marrying you was the best decision I’ve ever made.” He kissed her, gently, on the forehead. A moment later, he looked at the photos on the wall. “It’s too bad we could never conceive, but I think we did the right thing adopting, and I’m happy how they turned out.” Three smiling children, they’d adopted three little girls and raised them well. They were off living their own lives, with families and careers in three different cities. She’d had the difficult experience of trying to motivate someone she cared about to do more, but it had worked out well enough. She was feeding on their father, after all, not them.\n\n“You were a good father, helping them with their schoolwork. You should be happy, and proud too.” Harold grunted, agreeing.\n\n“You did your share too.” Paused for a moment, got a wistful look in his eyes.\n\n“Do you remember, how we took that trip to Arizona and the Southwest after I retired? We’d talked about hiking or exploring or something, but we ended up spending all our time in motel rooms, fucking like teenagers.” He started laughing, took a moment to get himself back under control so he could explain: “We do that a lot, don’t we? Must be in the 99th percentile for sex with a couple our ages. Don’t think that the AARP is going to start publishing rankings anytime soon.” More laughter, and even if the comment had been a weak joke, she joined in and they laughed together in their bed.\n\nHe fell asleep first, and she stared at his face for a long time, memorizing details and thinking of how it had changed over the years. He’d had a happy life, even if she’d frustrated his artistic ambitions and ensured he’d never reached a higher level in his career. Great sex, a happy home where their daughters prospered and everyone loved each other… she’d miss him when he was gone. She kissed him, gently, on the forehead before she joined him in sleep. She’d already decided to save the manuscript of the novel, in whatever form it was in at the time of his death, as a memento of their time together." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: You, a humble Trader, have fallen in love with a powerful, exotic Warrior. Good News: She loves you back! Bad News: Legend says a Hero will rise, and she's it." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When Pyris heard the door open but didn't hear it close, he started to worry.\n\nThey'd been married for a year now, and life had settled into a routine. Both of them would leave early in the morning and Pyris would always be home first. Most of his work was just keeping schedules and checking in with merchants and wagoners, so time was on his side. He'd spend his afternoon buying the things they would need for dinner, then Ellena would come home and they fix it all and eat together.\n\nShe always opened the door, hung her weapons up on the rack, and then shut the door. It was a series of sounds that meant the work of the day was done and they got to enjoy each other for the evening.\n\nOnly he didn't hear the weapons being racked, and he didn't hear her close the door.\n\nPyris wasn't sure if he should run or approach with caution. He compromised and took the broom from the closet door and stepped lightly down the hall. He could see the light from the open door shine on the wooden floor. There was a shadow there...\n\nPyris turned the corner to find his wife standing here. Her chest was heaving as if she'd been practicing right there in the doorway. Her usual instructor's blade was nowhere to be seen, she was covered in sweat and she held a massive broadsword that burned with a light that was both intense and terrifying.\n\n\"Ellena?\" Pyris loosened his grip on the broom.\n\nEllena turned her head and when her eyes locked on Pyris it seemed like life returned to her face. Her own grip loosened on the strange weapon and she swept toward him like he was the last cup of water in an endless desert. She crushed him in a tight hug for a moment, making Pyris' eyes pop wide. She smelled of fear and blood.\n\n\"Pyris.\" Ellena breathed into her husband's ear. \"I'm sorry.\"\n\nPyris knew that something terrible had happened, but since he did not know what it was the only thing he could do was hug his wife.\n\n\"I...Oh, Pyris!\" Ellena forced herself to unwrap her arms and step back. \"I couldn't let it happen. I'm sorry, Pyris. I'm so sorry!\"\n\n\"For what?\"\n\nPyris had never seen his wife like this. Ellena was a Garuwan, a fearless warrior from the south. She'd been training the local guard fro three years now and she could still fight four of them on at once and never take a hit. She was a warrior built from grace and violence... but beneath it all she had a heart as soft as warm butter.\n\n\"The Isamet...\" Ellena began, then shook her head like she couldn't believe the words she was saying. \"They came. They...they... Haro and Sham and the others... they...\"\n\nPyris could read what she couldn't say and it struck his heart as deeply as it had hers. He hugged his wife as fiercely as she had hugged him and he stared at nothing while he imagined all the horrors that Ellena had to have seen. The Isamet only came for one thing and they only left corpses to carry their message.\n\n\"We have to go.\" Pyris pulled himself away for a second time. \"I'll grab the packs and you get the horses. We can be gone before they-\"\n\n\"No.\" Ellena's voice was so soft that Pyris shouldn't have been able to hear the word. \"There's no need.\"\n\nPyris slowed and looked at his wife, at the way her shoulders relaxed and tensed, at the way her hand gripped the strange weapon.\n\n\"I killed them all.\" Ellena's voice was as cold as iron. \"I couldn't let them... I couldn't let...\"\n\nPyris felt his heart go cold inside his chest.\n\n\"I ran into the shrine. I broke the seal.\" Ellena laid out each word like a brick, dropping it into a world that seemed suddenly silent.\n\nPyris shook his head. It couldn't be true. She was lying!\n\n\"I passed through the sacred fires. I saw the heart... I took the blade of the gods that it was made to protect. I've become the Arbiter.\"\n\n\"Ellena...\" Pyris felt like his soul was dying.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Pyris.\" Ellena looked up, \"I just couldn't let them take you from me.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: a first encounter between humanity and an alien intelligent species, from the alien's perspective." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Sol was a star system in the ass-end of no where, four light years away from Andromeda, and about a hundred light years from home.\n\nI left my system a few hundred cycles ago, going sub-light speed. The scientists said that the journey would not feel nearly as long as it was, but it still felt like a really long time. Sol had about a planets, and when we started our analysis, it looked like the fourth planet would be ideal. It was already starting to civilize, and within the time it would take for me to get to them, they may be ready for space travel. It almost felt like a waste when we started our deceleration into Sol's ort cloud, and discovered the planet to be a dried out husk. Luckily my bridgemate pointed out unnatural lights from the third planet. The side that didn't face Sol would gradually turn bright, making places of intense artificial lighting.\n\nWhen we started our journey, this planet was mostly surrounded by CO2, and it had one large landmass around it's southern pole. Now, it seems to have distributed it's land almost all the way around.\n\n\"Where do you want to land?\" I said to the others, \"We could hit one of the brighter spots.\"\n\n\"That may not work out so well, we are kinda uninvited guests. I think we should give them a call.\" My bridgemate said.\n\n\"How would we communicate with them?\" I asked.\n\n\"The lights are electronic in origin, the spectrum indicates, that they are forcing electricity through varying types of gas. These lights are done in such a way to mimic the light that Sol gives off. If this is the case, that might be the lights that the beings on that planet can see.\"\n\nWe lurched. Coming down out of 90% the speed of light was not a fun process. We were closing on Sol's Ort cloud.\n\n\"Oof... if that's the case, we should see if they discovered how to manipulate other electromagnetic waves. I'm going to turn on our RF antenna and see what we can garner. Out where, we're probably looking for something around the lower end of the EM spectrum for clarity. I'm going to suggest something around 100MHzs, to start of with, and then go scan higher or lower from there.\" He pressed a few buttons, and listened for a few seconds. \"Woah.\"\n\n\"Woah, what?\" I asked of my bridgemate.\n\n\"Woah, I wasn't really expecting that. The 100MHzs band from around here seems to be dedicated to some form of music. Actually, judging by the static, there seems to be a few people projecting on this band. Let me tune it a bit more, clean it up, and I'll play it over the ship's speakers. We'll get our first taste at the culture of these people.\"\n\nShip lurched again, our ship has started entering Sol's gravity well, so we needed to start decelerating really fast or we'd be flung to the other side of the Galaxy.\n\nThe music started playing. \"You hear that?\" my bridgemate suggested, \"Bum bum bum dunt. They are using math to generate their music. There are frations overlaid in each of these beats.\" He then winced as another instrument started to play. This one had different sounds each beat, and didn't always line up.\n\n\"What is that?\" I asked.\n\n\"If I were to guess, these changing rhythms are a result of the creature's communications. They primarily communicate by verbal communication. Judging by the range, they have a limit on their pitch and hearing. Let me try to reduce the noise so that we can hear it like they do.\"\n\nWe listened for a bit of time, as we let our shallow orbit around Sol slow us. We must've passed that blue planet around four times before moving to the next one. Also blue, but it was identifiable by it's side-ways orbit and rings.\n\n\"What is up with the dramatic changes in pitch of their 'vocal instruments' between songs?\" I asked my bridgemate.\n\n\"If I had to guess, I would say their race has sexually diamorphic traits, one of which is expressed in vocal tones. Sadly, vocal alone isn't enough for me to gather any context for what they may be saying.\" My bridgemate responded.\n\n\"You actually believe they are trying to communicate like this, with us?\"\n\n\"No, they must be communicating with themselves. As such, I can tell you they are individuals and do not share a Hivemind. If I'd had to reckon, the creatures seem very socially oriented, they also primarily rely on water to live.\"\n\n\"How can you tell?\"\n\n\"Well, if you look at the pattern of lights here and here,\" He pointed to a border between land and sea, all lit up, \"There's a large quantity of light there, also you'll see the lights piling up almost everywhere there is a river, coast, or lake. They might not have learned how to travel through their air yet, or if they have, it must be within the last few generations of their being. Oh, wait, you see that red-green light there?\" He pointed at a small dot on the map, the dot was traveling across the map.\n\n\"That's air travel.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" my bridgemate replied, \"And what do you think the chances of them having space-travel are?\"\n\n\"You just said they only really recently achieved air travel? How could they have space travel yet?\" I asked.\n\n\"Yeah, that's what I was thinking, until I noticed this. You see these chunks of metal within the planet's gravity-well?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"They are artificial.\"\n\nMy jaw dropped. \"Are you saying that within a handful of generations, these creature when from being stuck on land to flying in space?\"\n\n\"Well, yeah, in a limited scope, like a few dozen cycles ago, when our ancestors first got to space. They still aren't of the same scope that we are right now.\"\n\n\"How long do you think it will take them to catch up?\"\n\n\"Well, considering there wasn't much on this planet when we left, there's a good chance that if we turn back now, they'll beat us back to our own planet.\"\n\nI sat in silence for a bit of time. We passed the biggest planet, and I was manipulating the engines so that we could get into orbit of the third planet.\n\n\"They must be incredibly smart, to come up with all that in so short of a time.\" I said.\n\n\"Maybe. From here I'm getting better readings on the planet. I can tell you that in the time that since they achieved flight, the population must have jumped dramatically. You can tell by the natural decay of these buildings, stone and plant fiber were the primary construction material, but shifted to concrete and metal rather recently. Recent enough to show corrosion, but not enough that the corroded elements are significantly decayed. And considered how ionized most of the water on this planet is, that's a surprising feat. I estimate their population to be in the billions.\"\n\n\"Billions.\" It's hard to grasp a number that big.\n\nEDIT: I'll write more, in a bit." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: For as long as you can remember, you've been a host to people in the Reincarnation Waiting Room, entertaining them before resetting their memory and sending them back to the world as infants." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Questions, it always starts with the questions. The same ones every time, sure there's some variation but they always boil down to the same ones.\n\n\n\n\"Where am I?\" This is usually the first, and one of the hardest to explain, this place is everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It might sound simple, and some people do accept it first time, but once you strip away the fundamental human concepts of space and time people can get really freaked out. I've had some of the brightest and cleverest minds humanity has to offer pass through here, but not a single one has truly understood the concept of absolute infinity. I usually just go with something like \"you have crossed over\" or even something vague like \"you are here\" it makes things easier, and my job, after all, is to make things as easy as possible.\n\n\n\nThe follow up is always \"am I dead?\", again a simple question but not so simple to answer. I mean, yes, technically you're dead by your definition of death, but only your physical body has died. Your soul, consciousness, spirit, psyche, life force, whatever you choose to call it continues on. The universe has always had a strict set of rules, and one of them is that nothing can be unmade, only changed. Take a match, you strike it and burn it and consider it destroyed, but all you've done is change it to ash, smoke and heat, the very essence of the match still exists but in a thousand different forms. The body may be gone, destroyed in a million different ways, but the essence of you still goes on.\n\n\n\n\"Who are you?\" usually comes about now and it's another one of those questions that, once answered, seems to upset some people. The simple fact is I don't know. I call myself \"The Host\". I know my place in all of this is to ease people to the next step and make the transition as smooth as possible. \"Transition to where?\" they ask, well some religions actually had it right, apart from the whole people coming back as insects and working up thing, that people are reincarnated in to new bodies and start again. No you won't keep your memories, we did try that for a while and it didn't go down too well, a new born baby simply can't hold all the memories of a past life and the base instincts needed to survive. There were a few that could but in almost all cases they abandoned their new lives to reconnect with their old ones. It's also a little unnerving for a toddler born to Icelandic parents to start speaking perfect Mandarin so we continued with the memory wipe.\n\n\n\n\"So what happens now?\" or \"How does this work?\" is the next one. I have to be careful here, the usual response is that I'll explain that we'll wipe your memories and send you off to a new body. You know how some babies are born and hardly make a sound, those are ones who accept it, the ones who come out crying and screaming, those are the ones who can't come to terms with it and fight the process. However there's actually three options I have, see when a new person arrives I know every single thing about them, every last little action and thought that person has had and I can make a choice. The vast majority of people go back, it's just how it is, it's sometimes worrying just how utterly average people are, they lie, cheat, steal, love, laugh, care and die, then go on to repeat again and again. Then there are some people who are above the base human instincts, they have compassion, logic and a quality about them that lifts them above average human. The very best of them become architects, the shapers and builders of the universe. The last option is for those who simply have no redeeming qualities, everything has a balance and if there are humans who are average and humans who excel then there are the ones who are fundamentally broken. We try to give them a chance and it's always a hard decision but we have to look at the safety of everyone. These irredeemable souls go back, but without a body, empty broken spirits existing only as ethereal beings unable to harm another.\n\n\n\nYou probably have a myriad of other questions right now but unfortunately, as much as I'd love to answer them I have others to host for, you've accepted all this very well so my next question is one to you, \"are you ready?\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1100-1200 words. Prompt: A severely depressed man realizes he's suffering so the rest of the world doesn't have to." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "John awoke to a blinding light. Looking around he saw that the light danced through thin veils of fog radiant and pulsing. He stood up without thinking about it and fought to retain his balance. He hadn't stood up in over 71 years.\n\n\"Is this heaven?\" he gasped, his eyes wide with wonder.\n\n\"It's more like a waiting room,\" the man speaking was so remarkably ordinary, that he seemed as if he were the only thing that were out of place. He looked as if he were a father, or a teacher, someone so bland and uninteresting they could only be described as dependable.\n\n\"You'll get used to the walking after a little bit. 1943 wasn't it? You were only 18 when you lost your legs, your fiance left you for your brother tearing your family apart, not that you ever had one.\" The man's eyes started to tear up and John couldn't help but feel bad for him. \"Don't pity me, please\" said the ordinary man. \"You have been through so much, I can't bear for you to pity me.\"\n\nJohn took a few tentative steps toward the man to get a closer look, he had deep rings around his eyes and John couldn't help but notice that it was almost like looking in a mirror. He saw sadness in this man that was inescapable and he felt as if they had a lot in common. John asked \"What do you mean waiting place,\" Then quickly changed his mind \"where exactly am I? How do you know who I am? Who in the hell are you?\"\n\nThe ordinary man smiled. John felt as if he had answered these questions many times. The man looked at him, \"Your name is John Saunders, you died at 89 years old in your sleep all alone. 20 years ago you found out you had a daughter with your ex-fiance and she wanted nothing to do with you, she thought you only wanted money, 5 years before that you were told that your brother had careened off of a cliff after a camping trip but you weren't allowed at the funeral. You have suffered losing your legs, you have had as record shows, the most difficult life of any being in the known universe, and trust me, the known universe here, is much much bigger than you could imagine.\" John looked at this ordinary man realizing much too slowly that he wasn't ordinary at all. The whole time he spoke he had grown more grand and commanding, he seemed like a king, he seemed like an angel.\n\nJohn stuttered out, \"so I'm dead, this is heaven but not really, are you... god?\" At that the man seemed ordinary again.\n\n\"Not quite. I have been around a bit longer than him. You are something of a special creation of mine. You were a lucky charm so to speak.\" The ordinary man frowned as he finished, \"I need to apologize to you, how have you been feeling?\"\n\n\"well as of now kind of confused I suppose.\"\n\n\"No,\" said the ordinary man \"how have you felt your entire life?\"\n\nJohn was struck dumb by the question. \"I have never felt, blessed, I have never felt immensely glad about anything, and I have never felt like I mattered I guess. I don't quite remember being young, I remember being very old and tired and worst of all I always felt alone.\"\n\nThe ordinary man again seemed to tear up again, but began to laugh which at first made John feel like he was very cruel. The ordinary man wiped tears out of his eyes and looked at John, straight through him and it made John feel like a kid again. He suddenly began to remember everything since he was a child. He remembered breaking his arm as a little kid, he remembered being beaten at home, ridiculed at school, it made him remember why he had forgotten in the first place.\n\nJohn began to shake in anger and he screamed at the ordinary man\n\n\"What am I?\"\n\n\"You were necessary, because of you acting as a sort of magnet, others were able to live out their lives as happily and peacefully as they could manage. You were a sponge of misery and fear. You were a mop of anger and regret. You were the closest thing anyone ever got to a hero, and they never even knew. They never knew what hardships could face them day after day, what true sadness felt like, you...\"\n\nJohn interrupted him \"was a toy. I was being used by everyone, I was a curse and yet I was still just nothing.\" John walked away.\n\nJohn walked for what felt like years to him, through the endless pulsing white fog. Every now and then he would look back and see that the ordinary man was right behind him never saying a word. Following patiently until eventually John looked behind to see he wasn't there.\n\n\"I was always just nothing, some sort of sick voodoo doll,\" said John as he sat down. He looked at his legs and realized how alien they felt.\n\n\"You were necessary,\" a voice boomed out of the fog.\n\n\"What happens now though? Where do I go from here?\"\n\n\"You can do anything you want, all you have to do is ask.\"\n\n\"But what happens to them, now that I'm not there to help them, will you create another one like me?\"\n\n\"I can't, I can't make anyone do that ever again.\"\n\nJohn stood up and looked around, he thought about what he wanted to do and drew a blank. He looked up at where he thought the voice was coming from and jumped as the ordinary man tapped him on the shoulder.\n\n\"Whatever you want John, anything.\" pleaded the ordinary man.\n\n\"I knew from the moment I met you that we had much in common. Why is that?\" asked John.\n\n\"Well, I forced myself to feel everything you did, every loss and pin prick. I was right there trying to punish myself for what I'd done. That's why I know that I can't do it again.\"\n\nJohn began to weep. He had never been alone, that ordinary man had been with him every step of the way. He wasn't a god, to be looked up to, to be prayed at, he just wanted people to be happy.\n\nAfter a while the tears stopped, and John looked up at the ordinary man who looked uncomfortable trying to console him.\n\n\"Let's get going,\" John said, \"This time we will leave together.\" And at that the ordinary man smiled.\n\n\"We'll bear it all together, for everyone.\"\n\n\"Mrs. Pharin?\" the nurse said, \"I'd like you to meet your two lovely boys, I don't know how to explain this, but they didn't even cry. I've never seen two babies so ready to face the world\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Since birth, right before you get an injury, you taste blood. Depending on the urgency of the injury, the blood may be stronger or weaker. While talking to your friend, you get the strongest taste of blood in your mouth when he hands you a gummy worm ." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Detective Denton opened the door to the interrogation room and shut it behind him gently just before sitting down.\n\n\"Ok, we're gonna run through the story one more time, have you sign these papers, then you're free to go,\" he said pressing the record button on the dictaphone.\n\nMust've been the longest thirty to fifty minutes of my life. The microphone still rattled its static hymn after I finished. I slid down in the chair across the table from the detective and asked if I could smoke.\n\n\"Sure, but with this, you'd be better off shoving that up your ass,\" Denton chortled. I rolled my eyes and flicked the cardboard cover, pulled a stick, made the flames dance. \"Someone's here to see you, anyways.\"\n\nIt's the iron in the blood. Always the iron.\n\nGary sauntered into the room with a paper bag wrapped up like a sack lunch for a field trip. His face was always a smile, but this was twisted somehow. Settling the bag on the table in front of me, he gave Denton a \"see you at the barbecue on Saturday\" pat on his shoulder on the way out.\n\nGary leaned in and jerked a thumb over his shoulder, \"It sucks seeing you in here being poked and prodded by these no neck municipal workers.\" He relaxed back, \"you didn't tell 'em nothing, right?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\nSome folks say it's copper, like a penny. But it's iron, the hemoglobin lighting up the olfactory like Chinese New Year. Coming up from the throat, rising from the pit of fear - that stench. From the penny dreadful papercut to the foghorn halitosis of a broken arm.\n\n\"Good. Attaboy.\" Gary's hands unrolled the paper bag and started fishing inside. His porterhouse hands pulled out a neon wriggler from the sack and he jammed it in his mouth. \"Ya'oughnt one?\"\n\nFor old times sake, I held out my hand. Silently waiting for the flavour of watermelon to fill my sinus cavity, gelatin to bind my teeth. He smiled with one corner of his mouth and craned his arm over to the bag, complete with sound effects and retrieved a watermelon flavored reprieve.\n\nYou know those mechanical bulls? If they had mechanical dicks, it'd be a close second to the metal scent filling my nostrils and mouth right now.\n\nHis sausage fingers managed to procure just one candy gastropod and drop it in my hand.\n\nIron foundries smell like a Febreze commercial compared to the taste in my mouth.\n\n\"I know you ain't no stool pigeon and Mr. Figliola knows it too. But business is business.\"\n\nThe watermelon center bursts in my mouth as the pit unloads a metric ton of rusted metal into my mouth.\n\nEver taste an iron watermelon? No? Good.\n\nEver feel your pelvis shattering from a .38 cal exit wound? No? Good.\n\n\"You knew it was me at the robbery Bobby. Denton told me you sang. Our fuckin' kids go to school together.\"\n\nAn electromagnetic teat unleashed its acrid milk though my mouth. This one's gonna hurt too.\n\nBang. I felt the slug replace portions of my colon and liver.\n\nBefore the shock really set in, I thought I was coughing up blood. The taste was thick, soupy, the shittiest NyQuil flavor. As I looked down, no blood was coming out. Gary stood up and straightened his jacket.\n\n\"I always fuckin hated you you fuckin rat. You were never my friend. Rot in fuckin hell.\"" } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 500-600 words. Prompt: Transported to another world, but it's a children's book." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "The florist: Hello? Are you okay?\n\nThe man’s eyes opened up. The florist is examining his face. Noticing that he is awake, she sighs.\n\nFlorist: Thank goodness. I found you here in the middle of my flowers.\n\nThe man looks around. A worried expression settles on his face.\n\nMan: I think the accident made me colorblind!\n\nHis eyes blink repeatedly\n\nFlorist: Color blind? What do you mean?\n\nMan: For starters, everything is in black and white.\n\nFlorist: Black and white?\n\nShe notices the man’s expression switches from worried to concern.\n\nFlorist: Where are you from?\n\nThe man looks down. A flashback plays and we see the headlights of a truck. His grips his head.\n\nMan: I…. I don’t remember. Where's the truck?\n\nHe looks up and notices she is confused.\n\nMan: Where am I?\n\nFlorist: In my garden.\n\nMan: How did you find me?\n\nFlorist: I visit here every day. I tend the gardens here while I await the pencil.\n\nMan: The pencil?\n\nFlorist: You don’t know about the creator?\n\nMan: Creator?\n\nFlorist: It’s hard to explain.\n\nMan: Try me.\n\nFlorist: This giant beautiful pencil comes in and makes my flowers look better. Our kingdom calls him the Creator.\n\nThe man looks at the sky. The woman waters the flowers as he watches. When she is done, she stands by him.\n\nFlorist: You scared me a little back there.\n\nMan: Ah sorry. I didn’t mean to.\n\nFlorist: I know.\n\nMan: When does this pencil come?\n\nFlorist: It’s been a while. Sometimes I hear the voices from the sky. Giggling, delighted screams, and sometimes crying. The town used to think I was crazy, until I brought back the flowers.\n\nMan: Do you have any flowers that you can show me?\n\nFlorist: Sure.\n\nShe reaches into her basket and pulls out a flower and hands it to him. He spins the flower around slowly. The middle of the flower is black and the petals are yellow, except for the one pedal that’s lime green. Must be the closest alternative to yellow. The man is holding a sunflower. He smiles.\n\nMan: This reminds me of when I was young.\n\nFlorist: Oh?\n\nMan: Only I colored a bunch of superhero’s and sci-fi stuff.\n\nFlorist: You keep saying cool-or?\n\nMan: Color. It’s how I used to see back then. Lights reflect off of the object and gets transmitted into your uh eyes.\n\nFlorist: So my flowers are… full of color? And full of light?\n\nMan: Yeah.\n\nThe conversation is interrupted by the rustle of some nearby bushes. An anxious man pops out from the bushes.\n\nAnxious Man: Lisa! We need to lea- Uh. Hello.\n\nMan: Hello.\n\nAnxious Man: Nice to meet you. I’d introduce myself but there isn’t time. Lisa. The king found more of those flowers somewhere else.\n\nFlorist: Where?!\n\nAnxious Man: That doesn’t matter. He’s trying to sacrifice himself.\n\nFlorist: No! I don’t want to lose my father.\n\nAnxious Man: We better leave then.\n\nFlorist (to the man): You better come with. You seem to know what’s going on more than us.\n\nMan: I actually don’t know much that could help. I was never an artist.\n\nThe florist grabs the man’s hand.\n\nFlorist: Come on. You’re our best chance to save our kingdom." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 700-800 words. Prompt: As someone with the ability to weaponize literally anything you touch, your lifetime sentence in maximum security is extremely boring... that is, until you see a fly on the wall." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "Five hours had passed since Louie has noticed the fly in his cell. Two hours ago he watched it walk barely an inch along the wall. Since then, no movement. The fly seemed as immobile as Louie.\n\nHe sat with his arms stretched out apart and in front of his face, looking like a seated cartoon zombie. Each wrist was cuffed with metal that pinned his arms in place, held by magnets surrounding the cell in maximum security. The cuffs were just out of reach of his fingers. Despite knowing his fingertips could not grace the metal that pinned him, he tried to reach, multiple times a day.\n\nQuite clever, he thought. His prisoners built a prison that negated his power. His fingertips were out of reach of any object – the metal cuff, his prison clothes. He could not touch anything with his hands. He had no ability to use his power.\n\nBut then he saw the fly.\n\nAll he could do was stare. There was no way to will the fly to his fingers. The fly had to decide to come to him.\n\nLouie did a double take with his eyes. Did it just move? He had been staring so long he was not sure. The desire for the fly to approach was willing his mind to see things. The fly lifted off the wall. It moved!\n\nHe tracked the fly with his eyes. It hovered over his head then landed on his brow. Louie noted that he had been sweating. Perhaps that’s what compelled the fly to approach.\n\nNot there, thought Louie, I need you to walk up higher. Louie began to wiggle his fingers, trying to generate some sweat. He gently puffed some breath up to the fly to coax it to move. He risked shooing it away entirely, but the fly knew Louie was a sweaty source of human to rest on.\n\nThe fly lifted again and landed on Louie’s chest. Closer, good. He watched the fly walk down across his belly then it paused. For the next 30 minutes, it sat. Then with great relief, the fly landed on the sleeve of Louie’s left arm and walked over towards his fingertips.\n\nThe fly sat on the back of his sweaty hand. Louie needed the fly to touch his palm or fingertips. The fly walked over around from the back of his hand to his palm. Louie could feel his power vibrate on his hand. He focussed his mind and imbued the fly with his power. In his mind he instructed the fly, his new weapon, to eat metal.\n\nThe fly landed on the metal cuff then began to devour. It ravenously buzzed as it rapidly chipped away and he metal cuff, tiny filaments hitting the floor. As a hole appeared in the cuff, Louie could wobble his hand against the damaged cuff and he freed his left hand. Louie pressed his fingers against the right cuff and in his mind thought – bend. An alarm blared around him as he bent the metal cut in two pieces and freed his hand. He pocketed the sharp pieces of the metal cuff under his sleeve. These may be useful later, he thought.\n\nHe ran to the door and pressed both hands against the door to his cell, in his mind thinking shield. The door rippled and snapped from its fixtures with ease. Louie gripped the sides of the door-shield as he heard guards approaching. He yelled and charged forward, knocking one guard down. The door-shield caught a second guard with Louie running forward letting it fall to the floor.\n\nLouie turned a corner and faced a guard pointing a gun at his face. “Freeze!”, commanded the guard. “Do not move, I swear I will shoot. You move one inch and I will end you”.\n\nFuck, Louie thought. He just needed to touch something, but dared not risk moving. He locked eyes with the guard. Buy some time, Louie thought.\n\nA buzzing noise filled the air. It was coming from the gun. The guard inspected his weapon as filaments of metal sheered-off and drifted onto the floor. “What the Hell?”, said the guard and Louie punched him square on the nose. The guard fell as the gun left his hand and bounced on the cement.\n\nThe fly landed on the gun and buzzed loudly and it continued to feast on the weapon.\n\n“Thanks bud”, said Louie, and ran down the hallway towards freedom." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in first person and around 600-700 words. Prompt: Your mother always used to tell you that ghosts don't sing, and that's how you know you're alive. One morning, you realize you haven't heard anyone sing in a while. You hurry to sing the words to your favorite song only to realize you can't remember them." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "When Hello leaves, she always slides a handful of peanuts into the slots of your cage, makes a kissy sound with her soft mouth and leaves her nest, and you watch as she wanders off into the outside. You call her Hello because that’s what she says the most. It’s a beautiful sound, the way she trills it, has been beautiful since the first time she’s said it, all soft skin and canary-blonde hair of a hatchling when you first met. Sometimes, you’d have conversations with her in nothing but ‘hello’s, tasting each other's cadence in increasingly more dramatic overtones.\n\nBut Hello’s Big now--Big in that she’s long fledged her birthing-nest, Big enough to feed and water herself, raise a family. She’s taken you along for the ride, and. You’re happy, you’re ecstatic, but every morning she drops a handful of peanuts in as an apology and heads off to face the outside.\n\nThe nest is quiet. You are alone.\n\nMama always tells you that ghosts don’t sing--singing is reserved for the living, for those with lungs to breathe and a heart to rejoice. That’s why all the birds sing in the mornings, as a celebration, because to live another day is to sing another song, and they are one and the same. Mama tells you that quiet is death; tells you that when you fly into a forest where you can hear the scrapes of wind against the trees, to flee, and seek shelter. When you woke up cold in your birth-nest without her voice, you’d cut your losses and ran.\n\nA nest without Hello is like death. When Hello is gone, you are alone with nothing but white-hot frustration tingling down your feather-sheathes. You picked at them once, watched as the hole left behind dribbled red down your wing. Felt like jagged notes, the shriek of a finch cut short by the talons of a falcon, and you were both the prey and the aggressor. You didn’t like it. You hated it.\n\nWhen Hello leaves the house now, you sing in her stead.\n\nThis singing is not like Mama’s song, not like the bird’s morning greetings. You screech as loud as you can. Fumble and flutter away from too-tight walls, like if you pitched sharp enough, you’d drive the loneliness away by sheer force of will. It is not beautiful. It is not cheerful. But much like the plucked feathers, it is clarity. You are alive. You are alive. You are alive.\n\nThe peanuts are not here today. Hello is a quiet, haunted thing, all red-rimmed eyes and dead animal stare. You size her up from your perch on her desk. When you woke up today, you find that the cage never had walls. The nest never had walls. You would slide through them as easily as you’d cut through air, and maybe they are a trick like the silly cup games Hello used to show you, in that the apple and the walls were never there at all.\n\nSilence suffocates, wrapping around Hello like a striking snake. You’re scared that she’ll be like Mama, leave and never return, so you sing a song for her, staccato like a chickadee tweet and soft like a nightingale, the croon of a mother bird to her brood.\n\nBut when you breathe, you don’t hear the press of your lungs against your ribs, the telltale beat of your heart. Worst of all, there is only death in the place where your voice once was, quiet and quiet and quiet. The shuffles on the floorboards are all that’s heard as Hello leaves the nest.\n\nMama always tells you that ghosts don’t sing--the thought of going silent never really crossed your mind, and by now it’s too late to scream." } ]

[ { "from": "human", "value": "Write in third person and around 1000-1100 words. Prompt: You are a pet sitter. An acquaintance has just hired you to look after their Roomba. Surprisingly, your presence is actually necessary." }, { "from": "gpt", "value": "“Take the job,” she had said. “It’ll be fine.”\n\nAt first Johnny had agreed with Charlotte. He had not the slightest inkling why his services would be required to look after a Roomba, but it looked like some quick cash for the school holidays. Better than walking ferocious bulldogs or trying to keep temperamental cats off sofas, at the very least.\n\nAnd as she was merely going out for a day to visit her ailing grandmother and stay overnight, what was there to fear? Roombas didn’t attack people. In fact, they weren’t supposed to do anything at all if you didn’t switch them on.\n\nThat was his plan. Turn the robot off and then dedicate the hours to homework and video games. Easiest fifty bucks ever. Johnny had been surprised just how quickly his friend had agreed to the price over the phone. He was there the next morning right on time with a Nintendo Switch and some revision notes in his backpack, ready to – well – do absolutely nothing for an entire day and get paid for it.\n\nPerhaps there had been something suspicious about just how cheerful Charlotte seemed as she passed the keys to him. A strange twinkle in her eye and a trace of a smirk on her face uncommon for someone going to stay with a relative whose health was failing. Johnny figured she must’ve really hated her grandmother or something. It was none of his business anyway.\n\nThey bade each other farewell and Charlotte mysteriously wished him luck with that odd twinkle in her eye. Laughing awkwardly, Johnny went into the flat.\n\nThe Roomba roved innocently around the living room, green light pulsing right in the middle of its metallic dome to indicate it being switched on and at full power. It was doing its usual Roomba thing – bouncing off objects, adjusting course, tiny brushes spinning and cleaning all the while.\n\nJohnny took a second to place his bag on the table and extract some items from the mess inside. Turning around again, he found that the Roomba had disappeared from view. A muffled whirring sound came from underneath the sofa. With a sigh, he lay down with his belly flat on the cool marble and saw it vibrating in one spot far back, apparently stuck.\n\nJohnny detested dust and grime – two things one was sure to find underneath a sofa long undisturbed. Gritting his teeth, he extended a hand and reached out as far as he possibly could, brushing metal with the tips of his fingers. Almost there. He redoubled his efforts and –\n\nHe could have sworn the Roomba had moved, but it was stuck, so that was out of the question. His hand now did not even come close to touching its surface. Strange, when only moments before he had just been about to grab it.\n\nJohnny tried one more time. He stretched out his fingers, grasping. He should be able to get the bot if he really gave it everything –\n\nIt happened again. The Roomba seemed to have moved backwards just a tiny bit, such that it was completely out of Johnny’s reach. But that was impossible. The Roomba was stuck, trapped right where it was.\n\nWasn’t it?\n\nJohnny gave the Roomba a suspicious look. Sunlight glinted off a piece of protruding glass attached the Roomba’s dome, and it seemed almost as though it had blinked right back at him.\n\nThen suddenly the Roomba shot from underneath the couch, smashing right into Johnny’s face where he had pressed it into the crack earlier to see the Roomba better. With a tremendous burst of speed, it rocketed away, careening around one corner and disappearing into some other room.\n\nJohnny groaned, rolling over and rubbing his now black eye. The heavy impact of the Roomba on his face had left quite the nasty bruise. How had it gotten free? And why was it acting in such an unnatural manner? It had seemed quite functional when he had entered the room before.\n\nHe could no longer hear the constant thrum of the Roomba’s moment. A few minutes later, he emerged from the living room with an icepack over his eye, fishing net from the sports cabinet in hand, filled with determination to apprehend the robot – some malfunctioning psycho android, no doubt. He hunted through each room; the toilet, bedroom, pantry…\n\nIt had disappeared.\n\nJohnny conducted a second search. The Roomba was nowhere to be found.\n\n“Ah, crap.” He said to himself.\n\nNumber one rule of pet-sitting: never let the animal – or in this case, robot out of your line of sight. It would be an absolute catastrophe if the pet escaped under your watch. It had never happened to Johnny before, and he trembled at the thought of what Charlotte might do to him if her strange pet vanished. Yet that was exactly what seemed to have happened.\n\nHe went through the cupboards. Emptied the fridge. Poked around under the bed, checked every nook and cranny that he could think of. Even flushed the toilet bowl a few times for good measure – maybe it was hiding in the pipes. An hour of searching yielded not the slightest trace of the Roomba. Had it possibly committed suicide from nine floors up? Would he find its mangled metal remains somewhere in the gardens below? Why hadn’t Charlotte informed him of her Roomba’s eccentric behaviour?\n\n'Eccentric'was an understatement, he thought darkly as sat back down and accepted defeat, focusing on trying to think of a course of action to save himself.\n\nIn the apartment one floor down, directly beneath where Johnny was sitting at that very moment, Charlotte fiddled with a small black controller. She watched him rack his brains from the camera mounted on top of the Roomba’s dome, the Roomba that had been concealed all along in a little vent by the television that Johnny hadn’t thought to check properly. The Roomba which wasn’t really a Roomba at all, but a little remote-controlled contraption she had spent months tinkering on, perfecting the controls and movement. She looked at Johnny thinking desperately on the sofa and giggled like a little girl." } ]