Split (1)

train · 10k rows

comment_score int64 11 23.1k	post_score int64 533 42.1k	profane float64 0 0.4	token_count int64 444 10k	chatml listlengths 3 3
4,017	12,185	0.01915	1,750	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You’ve been kidnapped by the SCP foundation. Why? You have the ability to ‘Mr. Magoo’ yourself out of anything. Sniper about to assassinate you? You bend down to pick up a penny just in time, SCP-049 about to touch you? A Sudden cannonball knocks them away. All with you being none the wiser.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Item #: SCP-777\n\nObject Class: Euclid\n\nSpecial Containment Procedures: No special safety procedures are required for the containment of SCP-777. SCP-777 is free to move about Site-19 so long as it does not attempt to engage with other SCPs, enter restricted areas, leave the premises or cause obstruction to foundation personnel. Contact with SCP-777 is permitted, but any divulgence of information or hostile engagement not cleared by the corresponding Class B or higher officer on duty will be met with harsh reprimands and potential disciplinary action, following the events of Addendum 777.01 (see below).\n\nA Class B officer is to check on the status of SCP-777 at regular intverals to ensure the safety of the subject and adherence with the containment procedures. SCP-777 is generally cooperative with foundation personnel, and verbal commands or negotiations are to be used as a first means in securing the subject.\n\nDescription: SCP-777 appears to be a human male, aged 23, with long brown hair, green eyes, and no defining facial features beyond a slightly pointer than average nose. All physical examination of SCP-777 shows no deviation from typical humans, and in all regards, SCP-777 is an average human male. \n\nHowever, SCP-777s anomalous properties are observable if SCP-777 is placed in harm's way. Should there be any unwanted resultant effects to SCP-777, SCP-777 will act, seemingly unconsciously to avoid any and all harm to themselves. This harm or damage to the subject that is avoided appears to be both physical and mental in nature. It should be noted that this anomalous property only applies to unwanted damage, see Addendum 777.02 (below).\n\nSCP-777 has demonstrated that the intent to cause damage to SCP-777 is irrelevant regarding its anomalous properties. Any and all damage, intentional or not, directed at SCP-777 will not affect the subject. Following the events of Addendum 777.06 (see below), any experimentation using equipment that has a chance exceeding >0.01% of causing an Orange level alert must be cleared with the Class A officer on-site beforehand.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nAddendum 777.01: During an incident where a Class D foundation member was engaged in janitorial duties, SCP-777 entered the area of operation and left \"bloody muddy footprints all over the place!\" This engagement resulted in the SCP-777 immediately apologizing, although the foundation member did not appear to accept this apology. In the ensuing moments, as the apology was rejected, the Class D foundation member appears to enter a trance-like state. This was not, however, harmful to the member's health as once the apology was accepted by the foundation personnel, SCP-777 vacated the area of operation and the member's mental faculties returned. They were dazed for a few minutes after, but this is pending confirmation by security-tape review. Post-event psychiatric analysis indicates they have no recollection or awareness of what occurred, and subsequent interviews show that SCP-777 was indeed unaware of their anomalous properties as the previous description states. \n\nAddendum 777.02: SCP-777, in attempt to cause minor repairable damage to the subject, was placed in a room with a buzzer. SCP-777 was told to wait in there for an hour, and that the buzzer would deliver a small electric shock of 9 Volts should it be pressed. SCP-777 was observed not pressing the buzzer until 31 minutes and 21 seconds had elapsed. The buzzer then delivered its electric shock, and monitors indicate that SCP-777 did suffer some damage. SCP-777 pressed the buzzer 4 more times over the course of 20 minutes, before appearing to grow bored of it. SCP-777 then loudly complained, before seemingly accidentally pressing the buzzer, which did not deliver an electric shock. Post-test analysis reveals that there was a malfunction in the buzzer, frying the circuitry. Data suggest minuatre black holes developed and evaporated, but results are pending further analysis.\n\nAddendum 777.06: During a test using explosives, SCP-777 used its anomalous properties to caused the walls of the test chamber to undergo a sudden decompression event. This unfortunately led to a cascading failure in containment cells as the explosives detonated, leading to the release of SCP-173. 14 D-Class foundation personnel were lost in the event, and any further testing is that could lead to an Orange level alert is prohibited. SCP-777 was not harmed in the event, as SCP-173 appears to have missed SCP-777's presence. Furthermore, SCP-777 was found with a single unit of American currency, valued at $0.01. SCP-777 claims that this 'lucky penny' appeared on the floor right before the explosion, which as absorbed by the falling wall. Analysis of debris indicates that all projectiles formed a 'null-zone' around SCP-777, narrowly avoiding any damage as it bent to pick up the 'lucky penny'. Further experimentation on culturally significant lucky items in hazardous situations manifesting in SCP-777's vicinity is currently undergoing review. \n\nAddendums 777.00, 777.03, 777.04 and 777.05 are currently not available to those under Security Clearance Level 2.\n\n*\n\nCome visit /r/ThomasWrites for more really lucky beings. For those of you with Level 2 Security Clearance, there are please enter your creditentials to view the [Capture Log for SCP-777**](https://www.reddit.com/r/ThomasWrites/comments/ic6q99/wp_youve_been_kidnapped_by_the_scp_foundation_why/?)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,812	12,181	0.019454	1,123	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You ate your last apple almost a full day ago. The second hand on the clock creeps closer and closer to the 24-hour mark. Holed up in a cabin you ready your shotgun. You can feel them out there, waiting, watching. The Doctors.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“Open the door, Aidannnn. I have some antibiotics to prescribe youuu.”\n\nBang, bang, bang. The red-headed man ignored the deafening impacts against the front door behind his back as he stared blankly at the box of ammo on the floor, six bright-red shotgun shells staring back from within.\n\n“Come back with me, Aidannnn. I’d like to keep you in my office overnight for observationnn.”\n\nThe first two shells easily slid into the loading flap, their distinct clicks barely audible amidst the cacophony of screeching voices from outside the foyer and the buzzing of flies from within.\n\n“You need to have your blood tested, Aidannn. Don’t be afraid, I’ll be gentleee.”\n\nThe final shell joined its companions with a resounding click. Despite his best efforts, Aidan felt his eyes irresistibly drawn to the barrel of the shotgun, its black emptiness tantalizing him with the prospect of a swift release.\n\n“You’re a bad boy for not listening to your parents, Aidannn. Their special pills would have cured you in no timeee.”\n\nAt that, the man found his gaze drifting towards the two putrid corpses in the corner of the foyer, their bloated remains now treasure troves for the clouds of flies and swarms of maggots surrounding them. He tried to recall how long it had been. Five weeks? Two days? The only detail that remained seared in his memory was the grotesquely wide smiles each of them sported as they tried to dig into his jugular with their blood-stained mouths.\n\n“Five more minutes, Aidannn. And when I’m done with your treatment, you’re going to need a few stitchesss.”\n\nAidan wearily looked up at the grandfather clock across from him. 11:55 PM. He tried to recall how many times he had seen the minute and second hands of that clock reach that exact same time from where he was sitting. Too many to count, he reckoned. Far too many.\n\n“An apple a day keeps the doctor away, Aidannn. But there are only so many apples, and there are oh so many of ussss.”\n\nThe man’s eyes finally settled upon the apple core at his feet, traces of its reddish skin still visible near the top of the fruit. He could not help but weakly chuckle to himself as he recalled some of the headlines from the final news broadcasts before everything went dark. ‘Apples Delay the Horde from Attacking You’. ‘Prices of Fuji Apples Skyrocket 6,700%”. No one knew why it was so. And as far as he was concerned, it was far too late to figure it out.\n\n“One more minuteee, Aidannn. I’m going to enjoy giving you an extensive blood testtt.”\n\nWith a labored grunt, Aidan struggled to his feet with the shotgun firmly gripped in his hands. His faint chuckle turned into gut-twisting laughter, tears streaming down his face as he aimed the gun at the front door. The red-headed man freely alternated between weeping and cackling as the second hand inched closer to 12, his white-knuckled grip refusing to loosen itself. The bongs of the clock rang throughout the foyer, and Aidan screeched at the top of his lungs as the front door caved in and hordes of bloodstained figures swarmed in.\n\nBang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, click, click. \n\nr/williamk9949", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,265	12,172	0.220099	2,361	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " An entire office block is populated by aliens disguised as humans on a mission to study our behaviour. None of them are aware of each other and think they are the only alien there. As a result they are amazed that human behaviour is so similar to their own. Then a real human gets a job there.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Korak-No-Korak sat conspicuously on the blue tile floor of the office cafeteria. The tight fit of his human-suit skin itched terribly around his central nerve bundle, the hard mass of nerves that intermingled at the center back of every Plo. Korak wanted desperately to reach around with his hidden filament and itch at the spot, but he could not risk revealing himself in front of his human co-workers. The mission was too important.\n\nLorak-No-Lorak sat on the tile floor of the cafeteria across from the man Lorak knew as Bob, who was Korak-No-Korak in disguise. Lorak's nerve bundle also itched fiercely beneath the thin layer of living human-suit. Every night Lorak would race to his apartment and shed his human form eagerly, stretching his filament out from where it was curled beneath his right arm pit and spending a solid hour just scratching. Lorak was a devoted Plo and this mission was of the utmost importance to his people, so he suffered through the discomfort and continued to record human behavior.\n\nNorak-To-Norak, also a Plo spy, sat between the fake man called Bob, who was Korak, and the fake man called Jim, who was Lorak. Norak himself had taken on the identity of a female human named Mary. Norak's mission commander had employed a Plo xenobiologist whose research on the human's indicated that the females were prized for the ample size of their mammary glands. To that end, in order to better secrete Norak into the human confidence, his human-suit was given outrageously ample breasts, so large and bulbous that Norak went home each night with a terrible back ache. \n\nThe three Plo sat around on the floor of their office cafeteria, each blithely unaware that the other was in fact a Plo agent. All three had been sent by different wings of the impossibly complicated Plo military, each without informing the other. As a result, all three had spent the last six months analyzing the \"human\" behavior of other Plo's pretending to be human. The results were odd. \n\nNorak, as Mary, lifted her mug to her mouth, took a large swig of coffee, swooshed it around violently in her oral cavity, and spat it back into the mug. With a kind of stutter stop series of twitches, Norak forced her skin-suit to take on a bizarre rendition of a toothy smile. \"Bob!\" Norak said, altogether too loudly, \"Your weekend! It was, I should hope, satisfactory!\" \n\nBob, who was actually Korak, shook his head side to side in a firm \"no\". \"Completely!\" he exclaimed nonsensically, taking his own swig of coffee, swooshing it around his mouth and spitting it back into his cup. Cocking his head slightly to the right and opening his lips just a little, Korak froze in that position and gave a firm thumbs up with his left hand. \"I continued to exist!\" He yelled, and then lowered his hand to his lap, made his face neutral and eyed the other two suspiciously.\n\nJim, who was Lorak, leered at Bob and Mary, smelling the air with his tongue for some indication of their mood. It was remarkable to Lorak how similar the human pheromones smelled to Plo pheromones. Lorak ascribed it to a quirk of evolutionary biology, but a useful one. Based on the odoriferous scent coming off of Mary, who was Norak, Lorak guessed that she was in a great deal of discomfort. He decided to capitalize on this information. \n\n\"MARY!\" He screamed, realizing that his voice modulator was set too high. Mary and Bob remained remarkably unfazed. Lorak made a mental command to lower the volume and continued as if nothing untoward had just occurred. \"Utilizing human instinct I sense that you suffer!\" He said, still far too loudly. \"I will administer a massage to your flesh!\"\n\nMary, Norak, internally panicked. Jim, Lorak, could not be allowed to make physical contact with Norak lest he stumble upon the hidden lump of her central nerve bundle. In order to avoid detection, Mary decided she would \"laugh it off,\" a technique she had used previously which seemed to achieve its desired effect. She stood up, flung her coffee mug against the far wall, where it shattered wetly into a thousand pieces. Then she stiffly looked down at Jim and made three sharp hacking noises which were the best rendition of human laughter Norak was capable of. \"Herrrck! Herrrck! Herrrck!\" Finally, she sat back down on the floor and calmly yelled \"No, with thanks, Jim, assistance is not required!\" \n\nJim, Lorak, cursed internally and made a point to himself that he would one day break through Mary's obstinate refusal for contact and learn more about her crude human body. \n\nThis feedback loop of investigative nonsense had been going on for some time as Norak, Lorak, and Korak all worked together over the course of weeks. Each day they would come into the office suite of the small company they worked for, itself a shell company set up by a fourth Plo, also working on gathering human intelligence on behalf of a fourth wing of the Plo military. That Plo, Gorak-No-Gorak, had hired the other three Plo thinking he was hiring humans. He worked remotely from his apartment, watching and documenting the way his \"human\" employees interacted with each other. \n\nThe result of all this was an overwhelming amount of bizarre and contradictory reports sent back to the various wings of the Plo military on the Plo homeworld. After a month, each military wing felt that their agent had done a remarkably successful job and each wing was preparing to call their particular agent back home. \n\nBut a couple of days before that happened, Gorak received an application from a new applicant over the internet. Eager to add another variable to his research, Gorak offered the applicant a job via email and on Monday the man showed up in the office dressed in business casual, eager to start work. His name was Mike and he, actually, was a human being. \n\nMike walked through the office space looking for his coworkers or manager for some time. He checked every cubicle and every office, but the place appeared to be empty. He was about to leave when he heard someone scream \"MARY!\" at the top of their lungs and then a loud smash of ceramic crashing against a wall. Confused, Mike walked toward the sound and found the cafeteria, along with three strange looking people sitting in full suits on the ground. Two were men with bizarre skin tone and very odd facial bone structure. The third was a, well, a woman Mike guessed, because in addition to having the same protruding facial bones, she was endowed with breasts the size of overripe watermelons. It was clear that she was struggling to keep upright under their immense weight. \n\nKorak, Lorak and Norak all turned to look at Mike at the same time. Mike just raised a hand awkwardly and waved hello. \"Hi, I'm, uh, Mike?\"\n\nAll four Plo, having spent the last month interacting with what each of them believed to be genuine human beings, but which were actually other Plo, panicked at the presence of what they now firmly believed was a non-human interloper in their operation. In the cafeteria, Korak, Lorak and Norak all recoiled visibly from the intense stench coming off the foreign creature, as well as his disgusting facial skin. From his apartment, watching on video cameras, Gorak cursed his foolishness in not first meeting the applicant. \n\nAlmost simultaneously the four Plo each issued the silent \"abort\" command back to their homeworld. Gorak self destructed all his equipment, doused the apartment with accelerant and lit it on fire, leaping out the back window and entering his poorly obscured one man space ship. Norak, Lorak and Korak, almost at the same time, positively screamed \"IGONOW!\" and raced out of the cafeteria, Korak going so far as to instinctually hiss at the distasteful \"Mike\" as he left. \n\nThe three Plo arrived outside together, each formally bowing to the other in the traditional human manner. They each offered the other the series of ceremonial fist bumps commensurate with their relative rank in the human hierarchy and then each raced off in different directions toward different hidden space ships. It would be decades before the Plo military parsed all of the data and understood the extent of their error.\n\nMeanwhile, back in the cafeteria, Mike just stood there, confused. He shook his head and mentally kicked himself. \"Dammit,\" he said, \"I knew I should've worn a suit.\" Frustrated by his lack of social grace, Mike sat down in one of the cubicles and browsed the internet, waiting for someone to tell him about his new job.\n\n**********\n\n#### For More Legends From The Multiverse\n\n## r/LFTM\n\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,122	12,144	0.026026	1,241	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You are a spiritual null. Werewolves and vampires can't turn you, fairy lights hold no charm, and you can stare at a medusa all day. This makes you the ultimate..... fantasy lawyer.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The case today was important, everyone knew that, but why it had to fall on me was the question. Lawyers are in short supply here but I had scheduled a vacation to the Bahamas, where everything is human and normal. Instead, I have to deal with the defense of Mr. Terry Clancy, who has been dead for only 50 years now. New ghosts are always difficult to deal with, as they want to embody the \"classic ghost.\" This means constant haunting, spooking, and in this case, possession.\n\nPossession is a big no-no here in the Realm, and Mr. Clancy is a repeat offender. He has made chimeras act like kittens, witches wear makeup, and water gods surf on tsunamis all for his own amusement. Now, he is accused of making a vampire pilot an outdated biplane toward the sun. The ancient fool survived by latching onto the top wing and sticking there like a cat avoiding water. Now he wants a duel, but it is my job to uphold the law and deal with this mess.\n\nHowever, Mr. Clancy is doing his absolute worst to prove his innocence. Since I was notified of the situation, he has already tried to possess me seven times so he can \"Do the work himself.\" I know that he's really trying to escape, as I found out recently that he rented a griffin and tried all night while I was in bed to get me onto the beast. That's a $5,000 fine for the misuse of noble beasts, and I had to spend all morning apologizing to the griffin's owner, a fearsome man with sparkling armor and a constant desire to behead anyone who disagrees with him. \n\nAnyway, now that that debacle is over, me and my ghostly defendant need to create a case quick. I asked him if he was at the scene. \"No.\" I asked him if anybody could confirm he was not at the scene. \"No.\" Questions like this continued with similar responses and grunts until I was sure that Mr. Clancy would spend the next 200 years a prison specifically made to keep him from drifting out. Honestly, I despaired, as this was another blow to my career as a lawyer. It was at this point, looking down and barely listening to my own questions, when I saw Mr. Clancy's insides. A ghost is transparent, though there should be nothing to see but their resemblance on the outside. However I could hazily see something through the green mist that resembled a necklace.\n\nWhen I asked him his face reddened, or at least they appeared to before he said that it was his wife's, and that she had always been devoted to faith. It was a cross he had kept with him since his death. Anything a ghost touches ceases to age for as long as the touch is maintained. Fifty years this cross was inside him, and proof would be easy to come up with through the help of a Grand Wizard I knew. The old vampire couldn't have been possessed, as the cross would repel him. It was a miracle, and I wanted to jump up and put this obnoxious case to rest.\n\nIt was in this mood that I noticed Mr. Clancy's sadness. I knew he had a wife, I just assumed she would be a ghost too. It would take a long journey for the poor man to finally meet her again, as the afterlife demands a growth that he had avoided, and now he had nothing but childish games to keep him afloat. He left my office like that, and I sat down wondering if I was worthy of an afterlife. Though, there was still cause to celebrate, as Mr. Clancy had 200 years free to do everything needed to reunite with his wife.\n\nI spent the next few hours organizing the case for tomorrow, and by midnight, I was more than exhausted. I needed rest before going to court, so I set my alarm and flopped into bed. It was here that my work phone rang. Answering it, I found out that I was going to take over a new case next week, this time with a werewolf who blamed the moon goddess for his lack of transformation over the past few months. I need to reschedule my vacation again, but before that, I'm going to bed. ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,253	12,100	0.0364	733	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": "the Mythbusters.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "By day, we slog through the misery set out by our overlords. We are worked to the bone for our masters, keeping our heads down to avoid punishment. \n\nHowever, when we head back to our houses, we gather as a community to eat, pray, sleep...we get our chance to live. And sometimes, we are lucky enough to hear of the Great Resistance. Some say they are myth...I know they are so much more. \n\nWe hear of Jamie, silent, but deadly. He considers all the angles, drives the team forward with relentless ambition to push our masters out of our country. \"His specialty is acid,\" the storytellers whisper, and we shudder with pleasure to imagine chemicals eating away at our enemies.\n\nAdam...the mechanic to Jamie's ideas, although they \"always came out a little wilder, a little more unhinged, a little more lethal than originally planned,\" as my uncle put it one night. \"But that's what makes them the perfect leaders.\" \n\nThe pair have two lieutenants that are little more than smoke in the wind, the shadows we hope haunt our enemies at every turn. Grant, highly skilled in reconnaissance and security for the group's compound, creates lethal robots that they deploy to infiltrate and destroy the masters' headquarters. Kari...we've heard many a tale about her daring feats, the lengths she's gone for her team. She's the one who managed to drag Tory's body back to camp after a mission gone horribly, horribly wrong.\n\nBut no matter the cost, they continue to fight, to develop new technology to maim and kill, to drive the aliens back, one day at a time. \"If you are brave, if you are kind,\" the storytellers say, \"if you've done your research and can confirm or bust theories, then it's plausible you could be a Mythbuster too one day.\"\n\nAnd as I tuck my contraband science books into my hiding place one last time, I know I've done the work. I have the math, the engineering...the imagination to make an impact. And as I vanish into the night like burning nitrocellulose, I know I will be so much more than Myth. \n\nWe will be Legends.\n\n\n\nr/DieKarrotte", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
6,275	12,092	0.070147	1,435	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Mages choose the source of their power. Most pick things like fire, or justice, or love. You picked sarcasm.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I'd gotten home earlier than expected, only to find the door of our little house in the country, pried open. Splintered shards of dark wood had been sprayed far into the house. \n\n\"Mark?\" I said, hurrying inside. \"Oh, Jesus.\" Mark lay on the floor in the living room, blood gurgling out of a jagged wound in his stomach and dyeing the carpet a deep, wine-red. \"Oh God, baby,\" I said, kneeling by his side and taking his hand in mine. I could see that the skin around the wound was black, and the smell of singed skin wafted up my nostrils. \"It's- it's going to be okay-\"\n\nMark tried to speak - he tried to tell me that there was a man behind me in the doorway, and that I had to run - but all he managed was a rasp of air. \n\nI screamed as a terrible heat seared my left cheek. The bolt of lightning had just missed me, but had still been near enough to cause a wicked pain and send me sprawling to the floor.\n\nA voice tutted, and I saw a large man with blonde hair stride into the room. \"Pity you had to come home, too. I do hate killing people, but...\" He smiled and clasped his hands together; a puddle of light began to grow between them. It started as a dim glow, but was becoming more intense with every passing second.\n\n\"You- you're so brave,\" I stuttered, touching my scorched face with a hand, \"and you must be so powerful to have beaten my non magical husband.\"\n\n\"Shh,\" he grinned, as the light continued to grow. He was slowly pulling his hands apart, stretching wide a dancing arc of brilliant light.\n\nI could see he was young and arrogant. I could do this, I just had to concentrate. I had to forget about Mark, at least for now.\n\n\"If we met under different circumstances, your incredible magic would have me drooling.\"\n\n\"Oh?\" he said. At least he was listening to me.\n\n\"Sure, my panties would have been off, like, two minutes ago. You're handsome, too. Your endless acne is like a million beauty spots; your nose, the perfect coat hanger.\"\n\n\"What are you doing?\" he asked, scowling. The intensity of the light was waning slightly. I got up onto my knees, encouraged. \n\n\"I'm not usually into larger people, but somehow the weight really suits you. You've got this bloated, pale walrus vibe going on, and no woman can resist that. And that chin strap beard, it really frames your face.\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"Not to mention how good you smell! I was wondering, as I was driving home, just what is that wonderfully pungent aroma, hanging over the countryside? Now I know!\"\n\nThe lightning in his hands was dissipating, and I could feel my own power bubbling up inside my body.\n\n\"You're- you're just trying to distract me!\" he spat. But it was too late, his power was dying and I understood why.\n\nHe tried to shoot the remaining light at me, but it fell like a brick to the floor before reaching me, fizzing into nothing on the frayed carpet. I saw his hands tremble, as red light began to bathe me.\n\n\"If you're as good in bed as you are with magic, you must be the world's greatest lover,\" I said, throwing my arms forward and commanding the red fury to leave my body and latch onto him.\n\nThe intruder screamed as the spell ate into him, gnawing at his skin and devouring his eyes like a hungry acid. He tried to run, but the red fury wouldn't leave him. I knew he wouldn't even make it down the drive.\n\nThe man's powers had fed off our emotions - of us being scared of him. But I hadn't been frightened enough, and Mark had lost conciousness. I turned to my husband and cradled his head in my arms.\n\n\"Honey,\" I whispered, \"It's going to be okay.\" \n\nMark didn't respond. He didn't move.\n\nI took a deep breath, as tears trickled down my face. \"You're so stupid,\" I said to him. \"Thinking I love you, when really I think you're the worst. The absolute worst. I'm actually extremely happy you're dying on me. I think I can live an amazing life without you. I'd had an absolutely terrible life with you in it, so now - so now, it's going to be brilliant. So much better.\" \n\nThe magic ran through my body once more - I felt it as blue, this time - and I channelled it into him. \n\n\"I cheated on you tons, and it was so easy, because everybody loves me and can put up with me. You're not the only person in my life. Uh uh. Nope. If there's one thing I know for sure, I can definitely live without you.\"\n\n---\n\n/r/nickofnight\n\n\n\n\n\n\n ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,001	12,091	0.106361	1,004	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You are a normal citizen in a relatively unimportant country. One day the goverment starts to act crazy, changing ideology overnight, drafting people for the army and antagonizing their neighbours. The player controlling your country in a strategy game has just begun their world conquest run.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Wake up! Wake up!\" \n\nMy eyes opened to a blurred world, bouncing up and down around me. After a moment, I grabbed at the man shaking me and groaned. \"What the hell are you doing, Rafi? Good God, man.\"\n\n\"Samir, my friend, you must get up. We have to go, now.\"\n\n\"What are you on about so early in the day? Back at the wicked leaf again, friend?\" I rubbed my eyes vigorously. \n\n\"Samir, something is happening. We must go-\"\n\nSplintered wood exploded across the room, raining kindling on us both. A group of armed men in bright red sashes with gold scimitars at their hips were yelling in another language- Farsi, perhaps? Or Arabic? It was hard to pin, but understanding them wouldn't have mattered anyway. They dragged us at swordpoint to the central square, where thousands of other men had been gathered together. They all looked as confused and distraught as I felt, bitter nerves and a sinking, empty stomach. \n\nAbout ten minutes later, a loudphone crackled in our own language, though crudely. \"Hello. There is no time. We have married into the Persian bloodline, and they will go to war with us.\"\n\nRafi squeezed over to me, grasping my shoulder. \"Chaos comes for us, friend. I hear the new Persian Queen murdered all four of her siblings to establish herself as heir.\"\n\nI ran my hands through my hair, clenching some, as the booming voice continued. \"The democracy has been disbanded. This is an official monarchy now, and miscreants will be thrown in jail or executed quickly. \n\n\"You will be fitted with equipment shortly and we march in three days. Don't worry, I have a few perks and because of my divine abilities, you will all be able to fight like trained warriors.\n\n\"First we must destroy India. The madmen formed a democracy and... Things have become tumultuous. After that, I do not yet know. However, I do know the world will be ours, men. We just have to go out and steal it before it destroys itself.\" \n\nThe crowd cheered, and I with them, despite being horridly confused and wanting to vomit. I'd just... moved on my own, screaming with agreement, a veil of bloodlust pulled over my eyes. The conscripted men began to stream out of the square, toward an armory looming above plaza buildings- it wasn't there the day before. \n\nAlong the way, a radio's crackle caught my ear, and I paused briefly to listen. \"India has formed a democracy... Mohandas Gandhi... Rapid changes in the world climate... War elephants... President Gandhi put out a press release today... Play it now.\"\n\n\"... Our words are backed with NUCLEAR WEAPONS...\" the once peaceful, frail man screamed like a banshee. \n\nThe world was falling apart. There were things in motion that would never become undone. And, somehow, overnight, it had become our job to keep things from fully unraveling.\n\n----\n\n/r/resonatingfury", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,138	12,064	0.007029	854	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": "We have landed on the planet known as Earth and have made contact with an inhabitant. They call themselves “Benjamin” and are 5 Earth cycles in age. He wished to engage in an activity known as “hide and seek”. We cannot find him now. Requesting aid.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Obviously the humans possess stealth technology unlike any we have encountered,\" Dajos said, \"This Benjamin is toying with us. I shall declare Dus Vas when I find him.\"\n\n\"Oh ho!\" Norom laughed at his friend, \"Dajos of the Hunter's Guild unable to track a child. You will declare the rite of ritual combat with him? Be careful, mighty hunter, if he fights as well as he hides he might have another pelt for his wall.\"\n\n\"Bah!\" Dajos spat belligerently, \"Keep pushing me, Norom, and we shall dance the Dus Vas together. Do you see any pelts on these walls? Humans are soft!\" Dajos sniffed the ground and continued the hunt.\n\n\"Perhaps we should check behind the cloth window hanging,\" Norimor, the youngest of the Lanori Scout Party offered, pointing at the white cloth with local flora embossed upon it.\n\n\"I've already looked there three times, young fool,\" Dajos spat again, growing even angrier if that were possible, \"Before you say it I also checked the adjacent rectangular clothing storage unit and under its nest. Where the blazes is this Benjamin?\"\n\n\"Perhaps you should call for a Clan Master?\" Norom grinned at him then raised his paws to show he were kidding, \"Why don't you just call for him?\"\n\n\"What?\" said Dajos, he could smell the cub near, \"Give up? To a primiti... why are you all smiling?\" He suddenly got the distinct impression that his clan mates found this amusing. Were they looking behind him? He turned quickly but nothing was there. \n\n\"Oh, this is too much, should we tell him?\" Norimor said, hiding a grin behind his paw, \"Come on! This is too much.\"\n\n\"Tell me what?\" he was about to ask when the crafty Benjamin finally jumped out from behind him and said \"Boo!\" causing Dajos to almost do a double back flip in surprise.\n\n\"You were behind me the whole time?\" Dajos asked, \"Moving behind me when I moved? You are devious, Benjamin, your race is crafty. I think the clans will contact your leaders as you are worthy to be called predator and not prey.\"\n\n\"I don't know what any of that means,\" Benjamin said, \"Can we play something else?\"\n\n\"Like what?\" Dajos said and was taught how to play Tic-Tac-Toe, which Benjamin won every round of - the crafty devil.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,011	12,054	0.007888	1,717	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " As a prank, you ordered something off the menu in a restaurant. Unbeknownst to you, the place is actually a front and you have just identified yourself as a top level agent.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The waitress raised her eyebrows and looked at me, wide eyed. “I understand, sir” she stuttered, but still she continued to stare. Had I inadvertently made some kind of sexual innuendo? Was the swordfish sold out? Was this waitress, who must’ve been no older than 22 years old, having a stroke?\n\n“Is everything okay with my order?” I asked in an effort to break what had become a painfully elongated silence. “I can go for the Plaice if the swordfish is a problem.”\n\n“It’s not the swordfish, sir. The swordfish is fine. Delicious, in fact.” She glanced at my colleague, whose face looked as perplexed as I imagine mine currently did. Then her gaze darted back to meet mine and, for the second time in as many minutes, I found myself staring at this girl in awkward, suffocating silence. Then she spoke once more. “To clarify, you want the swordfish, with dauphinoise potatoes, the shallots, a medium glass of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc and,”- she swallowed - “and you’d like that all to be kept away from any nuts because you are mildly - not strongly, but mildly - allergic. Is that all accurate, sir?”\n\n“That’s great, thank you”, I said, breathing a quiet sigh of relief and handing her my menu. But she didn’t take my menu. Nor did she appear to write any of this down.\n\n“I’ll be right back, sir. Thank you.” With that, she turned on her heel and scurried away with a sudden and inexplicable urgency.\n\n“Well what the fuck was that about?” exclaimed Jason, who’s order hadn’t even been taken. “She didn’t even ask me what I wanted. I know I’ve gained a few pounds but a man still has to eat.” A muted commotion was unfolding behind him. I stared past his left shoulder and towards the corner of the restaurant, to find the waitress whispering conspiratorially to a suited man who I assumed was her superior. Both had their hands cupped around their mouths. “Have I turned fucking invisible? Has Jason Lowton finally gained a superpower?” Jason was angry. He was always angry when he got hungry.\n\nThe suited man nodded a few times more and, after some vague pointing in our direction, began to make his way to our table. Perhaps the swordfish was sold out, after all. As he approached, Jason swung around and threw up his hands. “Finally!” he called out. “I’ll have the lobster - and make sure it’s the biggest lobster in the house.” The man didn’t acknowledge him, but instead brushed past him and stood close enough to me that I could smell the dusty musk of his black trousers. He placed a hand on my shoulder and bent down to whisper in my ear.\n\n“Sir. This place isn’t safe. Do you trust Jason? Say “plaice” for “yes” and “lobster” for no. Do not look at him.”\n\nHow did he know Jason’s name?\n\n“Plaice” I replied, out loud so Jason could hear. Jason looked furious. The man bent back down and whispered once more. “You shouldn’t, agent. Get out. Get away from him.”\n\nWith that, he grinned at me, then turned to look at Jason. “Your lobster is on its way, sir,” he smiled. Then he walked back to the corner to talk to the waitress, who had been watching the entire conversation unfold.\n\nJason looked at me, confused, angry, but with a hint of satisfaction that his order had finally been acknowledged. “What did he say to you?” he asked. “And why did he need to whisper? It’s not a bloody library.” I studied Jason. The lines on his oily brow. The day-old stubble protruding from his shirt collar and patching its way up to his reddened cheeks. As I looked, Jason gulped in a way I’d never seen him gulp prior to this evening. Was this man trustworthy?\n\n“Oh, he told me the swordfish was out and asked me what I’d like instead. He said there’s a journalist sat behind me and he didn’t want him to catch on that they had sold out of their flagship dish.”\n\n“Oh,” said Jason. Was that a look of relief? “Weird. I hope they hurry up with that lobster.”\n\nThat’s when I saw it. Only for a fleeting second. Jason puffed out his chest and glanced at his watch and, as he did so, a bulky, hard object pushed itself against the inside of his suit jacket, protruding above the natural fall of the fabric for a short moment. But it was enough. Was that a gun? It might just be hip flask. No, too fat for a hip flask. Perhaps it was his wallet? No, his wallet was on the table.\n\n“Jason, I err. I think I have to leave. I’ve just remembered nobody is picking up Chloe from school. Sandra’s working late. This one’s on me, mate - enjoy the plaice. Sorry - I’ll see you Monday.” I began to stand. But Jason didn’t look surprised or embarrassed by the sudden change of plan. Instead he placed his palms either side of the cutlery in front of him and shook his head slowly, looking down at the table cloth.\n\n“Sit. Back. Down.” he spat, quiet enough that surrounding tables wouldn’t hear, but loud enough to stop me dead in my tracks. I stared at him. My heart began to thud so hard that I felt it might betray me just as his gun had betrayed him. I laughed uncomfortably.\n\n“What do you mean mate?”\n\n“Don't worry, Daniel. Chloe's already been picked up. We picked her up ourselves.” He patted the lump in his suit jacket and looked at me knowingly. “Now, sit back down. We’ve got some talking to do. ”\n\n*Edit 1: There's a Part 2, if you're interested! I don't know how to link it, but it's below this somewhere. Thanks for reading!* \n\n\n*Edit 2: If you'd like to read the rest of this story in one concise place, please consider subscribing to* r/StoriesAreFunRight ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,898	12,048	0.218218	785	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Hello, this is Lockpicking Lawyer. I was put into a high security prison for nuking multiple major cities across the world. However, this high security prison cell door has an INEXCUSABLE design flaw. Here’s how I’m going to open it with the zipper I broke off of my jumpsuit.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Ok, so this is the ADEMCO model 9500 lock, a super high security lock that is equally impressive in person as it is on paper however as I said at the beginning of this video, there is a dead simple vulnerability that makes it incredibly trivial to bypass. This lock features a titanium block and core with depleted uranium pins in the cylinder which means it's incredibly resilient to drilling and physical security attacks. This lock has a total of sixteen pins, features security pins like bobbins and serated pins for anti-picking and even features a new countermeasure I've not seen in ages on high security locks. In the core of this lock is a magnetic lever that has to be repelled by magnets embedded in the original key to prevent impression attacks. Even with a correctly cut key, with no magnets to push the lever out, the core will not turn. Make no mistake, this is a very high security lock but for all its security features and impressive engineering, it is all for nought due to being susceptible to the most basic attack known to pickers, the bump attack. This jumpsuit zipper will work just fine for demonstrating the vulnerability.\"\n\nThe Lockpicking Lawyer takes the zipper pull and jams it into the lock, then thumps it with his thumb.\n\n\"You would think that with as much money as the US Government paid ADEMCO for this titanium encased lock, they would have been able to at least design a lock that couldn't have been bumped open. Another bump... and there we go.\"\n\nThe Lockpicking Lawyer hits the zipper pull again, and a sharp click emanates from the lock.\n\n\"Just a turn to the right, and the bolt retracts harmlessly, allowing me to escape and to set the record straight.\"\n\nJust as described, the lock rotates and the bolt retracts, allowing the door to swing wide open. The Lockpicking Lawyer takes the first steps outside of his prison cell and sprints down the darkened hallway into the night. \n\nThe Lockpicking Lawyer's voice can be heard fading has he runs further down the hall, \"If you like this video, please subscribe, and as always have a nice day. Thank you.\"", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,804	12,038	0.028261	1,674	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Aliens have realized humans advance more quickly during times of conflict, and have tried to push humanity into wars to see what happens. However, that changes when they start WW2 and humans harness the power of the atom.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Incoming report from the Operation: Forge operatives on C-521.4. I am processing it now. So far, it seems very positive, and so...\"\n\nThere is a pause. Poelhi is not prone to dramatics, and it is not like him to allow his attention to wander. Without shifting my gaze from the nav-chart before me, I prod him: \"Go ahead, Communicator.\"\n\nThe pause expands into a full-blown silence, and I look up to see whether Communicator Poelhi is well. \n\nHe is not. \n\nThe dark, mottled features of his face glow oddly in the bluish-white illumination of the vid-screen he is staring at. All of his ocular spheres are protruding slightly, and his mouth is a flat line, like the op-display for a device that has been disconnected.\n\nI cannot fathom what is causing this reaction, and grow even more confused when he finally speaks again: \"Ah.\" \n\nOne set of ocular orbs dart over to me, then back to the vid-screen. \n\n\"Communicator?\" \n\nHe does not stir. \n\n\"Subordinate, report.\" \n\n\"We have a...non-survival status.\"\n\n\"For which operative?\" \n\nPoelhi undulates from side to side before responding. \"...all of them.\"\n\nI move to his side of the room and input the command to replay the report. The operatives are there, smiling into the auto-cam. The sub-lead of the team gestures around him. We are here to bear witness the next stage of Operation: Forge. Intercepts have just recently been decoded indicating some of the humans are quite pleased with themselves for their new weapons technology. The intercepts alluded to tests which we were unable to witness but there is confirmation that they are going to use it on the field of battle today. As you know, the human weaponry is primarily based on metal projectiles and conventional explosive devices, with military vehicles designed for land-, sea-, and air-based combat.\n\nAircraft is inbound, sub-lead.\n\nGood. Begin initial analysis of the weapon. As I was saying, despite the relative crudeness of the humans' weaponry, we have taken up position a healthy distance from the target area to see the 'battle' while remaining completely safe. Analyst, if you would be so kind as to give us the official name of this fearsome weapon?\n\nThe sub-lead's expression does not change, but he might as well be smirking based on the tone of his voice. It jars me to think this is one of the last things he did. I am not exceptional in my position but it is easy to imagine that his contempt is directed towards the thing that is about to kill him. I wonder if there's a term for this on C-521.4 - it seems a very human thing to do. \n\nOne operative is holding a data pad, and all the others have turned to look at him. Sub-lead, the humans have termed the device 'Little Boy.'\n\nThere is great mirth from the operatives at this. Yes. Keeping in mind that humans, unlike every other species on this planet, are born in severe prematurity, surviving the first months of life only through the most primitive form of life-support reflexes...alluding to their young hardly is a truly terrifying. Nonetheless, progress is progress, hopefully this will serve as a stepping stone to a larger -- \n\nForgiveness, sub-lead, but the aircraft has just gone overhead, allowing the sensory array to complete the analysis.\n\nVery good. And?\n\nThe aura of amusement from the sub-lead fades as he looks over at the analyst. The device is using radioactive isotopes, with the computers suggesting a...\n\nAnalyst?\n\nWe should move. \n\nWhy?\n\nThe device contains a fission-based detonation system relying on nucleonic chain reactions.\n\nThere is a significant shift in the amount of ambient light present on the video, and a moment later, an alert appears as part of the graphical overlay on the display. The operatives begin speaking over another.\n\nDid you say fission, analyst?\n\nSub-lead, you must order all operatives back to the --\n\nThat's not something that --\n\nThe picture becomes grainier and more pixelated. Six more alerts stack on top of the first one in quick succession, including a message indicating that signal degradation has caused interpolation to be used to complete the video. \n\nLook! One of the other operatives points off screen, his voice distorted by the algorithms used to restore the video. \n\nThe data corruption causes the last moments to unfold in a perverse kind of slow motion. There is a frame as the operatives turn, which remains on-screen for a few seconds. Then, another tableau of the operatives being knocked airborne by a blast wave, accompanied by distorted screams. The final frame is pure white light, and then the screen goes completely dark.\n\nPoelhi's mentions something about a delay in the transmission of the message due to equipment failure, but it barely registers with me. I am trying to wrap my head around how the humans made this jump, what the cryptic allusion to a \"fission detonation system\" could possibly mean. I hardly process the report that of the 90,000 structures in the city where the bomb was dropped, approximately 60,000 were razed.\n\n\"Whatever that was, Poelhi, let's just hope that once they realize how destructive it was, they never use it again.\"\n\nSomething about the silence that follows makes me uneasy. \"Communicator?\"\n\n\"Sir.\"\n\nI look at my subordinate and wait. Finally, he continues. \"A second device was dropped three days later.\" Another pause. \"According to our orbital sensor array, the detonation was approximately ten times more powerful than that of the first one.\"\n\n**\n\nEdit to polish a bit and for technical corrections - thanks for the feedback!*", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
7,164	12,031	0.106073	1,499	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Everyone is born with 1-100 tally marks tattooed on their arm. The higher your number, the more valuable you are and the more successful you will be. You bully a kid because he is obviously hiding a low score. One day, he rolls up his sleeve to show an infinity symbol.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I am a 96.\n\n\nMy score, determined by a sophisticated AI and tattooed onto my arm at birth, gave me the license to do almost anything with my life. When you have more potential than 95% of the population, with a standard deviation of 2%, nobody questions you.\n\n\nThat score, known as a \"potentiality index\", isn't just for intellectual intelligence. It integrates genetic propensity for emotional and physical intelligence as well.\n\n\nI didn't have to study for tests. I was the star of the basketball team. I won arguments easily, tripping up my opponent with logical games and by playing to the crowd. Sure, if I got into an debate with an 80 percenter who had actually studied the topic, they might be a threat. But I could always pull the \"what's your score again?\" line, and they'd usually shut up and the crowd would give me the benefit of the doubt. I was untouchable.\n\n\nBut that was before Ian.\n\n\nHe kept his arm covered; not uncommon for those in the lower quartile. He was also quiet. I chalked that up to him saving himself the embarrassment of talking.\n\n\nI almost felt bad for him on the first day of our engineering class. Poor kid would be out of his depth, I thought.\n\n\n40% of our grade was based on the final team project: making a battlebot that would compete against other teams' batlebots. The other 3 students assigned to my team had a combined score of less than 80, probably to counterbalance my own capability.\n\n\nIn our first team meeting, it took me almost 5 minutes to put them in their place. They kept babbling about their ideas for the battlebot. \"Flamethrower\" this, and \"electric saw\" that. But once I rolled up my sleeve to show my 96 tick marks, they shut up pretty quick.\n\n\nLooking over at Ian's group, I noticed he seemed too stupid to talk much. He kept listening to others on his team, nodding or asking simple questions. They oriented toward him, seeming to trust him to guide the conversation. Probably because they didn't have anyone better in the group. After all, I wasn't in it.\n\n\nOur team, meaning myself, went for a high power laser design with an optical setup to focus the beam to a high enough intensity to cut through metal.\n\n\nOn the last day of class, the battles commenced.\n\n\nThe first three battles were easy. Once our bot got in range for its laser to work, all one had to do was press a button and the other bot exploded. It was so simple that anyone of my team could have executed the maneuver; not that I trusted any of them at the controls of course.\n\n\nI didn't notice that Ian's team had made it to the finals until I saw them across the ring. As their bot advanced, I noticed it had both a flamethrower and a circular saw. Talk about uninspired!\n\n\nI maneuvered my bot in range, pressed the laser button... and my bot exploded.\n\n\nI stood in stunned silence as the trophy was awarded to Ian and his team. As they walked toward the exit, congratulating each other, my feet carried me forward.\n\n\n\"Ian!\" My voice was hoarse in my throat.\n\n\nHe turned, and motioned his group to go on.\n\n\n\"How did you do that? How did you win?\" I asked, trying not to let the desperation show in my voice.\n\n\n\"Oh, it was one of Lindsey's ideas actually.\" he said in an offhand way. \"We placed a high quality mirror behind the front plating, to reflect any laser that an opponent might use. You know, if they went for a generic laser build\".\n\n\n\"Oh...\" I said. \"So it wasn't one of your ideas.\"\n\n\n\"Nope,\" he admitted easily. \"I helped sift through the ideas everyone came up with. The mirror seemed like a pretty inexpensive contingency, so we went for it.\"\n\n\n\"So, it's not like you are some genius.\" I ventured.\n\n\n\"No,\" he laughed, \"certainly not\". He turned to walk off.\n\n\n\"What's your score?\" I asked.\n\n\nSelf consciously, he turned back to face me and tugged his sleeve farther down. \"You know I don't share that.\"\n\n\n\"Please! I have to know!\" I cried desperately, grabbing his arm and pulling his sleeve up.\n\n\nA \"∞\" infinity sign was printed neatly on his arm.\n\n\n\"What does it mean?\" I gasped. \"Nobody can have infinite intelligence.\"\n\n\nIan straightened up, and calmly tugged his sleeve back down.\n\n\n\"No, I'm not infinitely smart.\" Ian admitted easily. \"But I do listen to others, and they trust me. Our bot was the product of all of our ideas offered freely, carefully refined by objective discussion. As my score indicates, I am not bounded by my own intelligence; I make myself better from those around me.\"\n\n\n\"After all,\" he called back as he walked away, leaving me alone in an empty classroom. \"Infinity isn't a number, it is a direction without bound. But I assume you already know that definition, given you are a 96 percenter after all...\"", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,028	12,013	0.216962	1,390	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Dogs have been genetically engineered to live as long as humans. As a child you pick out a puppy as a companion for the rest of your life.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"That's all right, big guy. Take it slow.\" I murmured, smiling and gritting my teeth as I helped Dusty up onto the bed. The big wolfhound fell into a pile with a whuff a moment later, panting happily.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Dustin.\" The voice behind me was reedy and thin, but I'd recognize it anywhere. It was a voice I'd spent almost my whole life hearing.\n\nShe stood waiting in the doorway, her eyes dark as she watched the dog and I. Her little terrier Peabody twined between her ankles, licking his chops. His fur was stained with white, now, just like Dusty's.\n\nSo was her hair, the color lost to the years and her face wrinkled deeply, but she was every bit as beautiful as the day we'd met.\n\nI forced a smile onto my face. \"It's all right, Sarah. It's just life.\" My hand caressed Dusty's back gently.\n\n\"What time's the appointment?\" She said softly, staring at the floor.\n\n\"Ten. I wanted- I didn't want to have it hanging over us all day.\"\n\nShe stepped forward, hands sliding under the big dog's chin so she could scratch the spot he loved. His tongue lolled out happily.\n\nI could almost remember the day I'd met Dusty. The vet's office was packed, I knew. I remembered the press of bodies, the smell of animals and body odor. And the rows of cages, each holding a puppy.\n\n\"Choose.\" My mother had whispered in my ear, smiling over my shoulder. \"And choose well, because you only get to choose once.\"\n\n\"Whoever you pick is yours, Dustin.\" My father said, tone serious. \"You'll have to take care of it, all right?\"\n\nI had been so excited. A companion - for life. Who could ask for more? I'd run up and down the rows of kennels, sliding my hand through the bars.\n\nAnd when I'd seen the tiny puppy, fur tangled and wiry and matted but with eyes that stared up at me as though I were all that mattered in the world, I knew.\n\nThey'd laughed at me, when I named him Dusty. \"Pick something else,\" my mother had said. But I said no. He was mine, spending his whole life with me, and I wanted to give him a little of something that was mine in return.\n\nHis eyes were every bit as warm and trusting as he stared at me now, panting.\n\nI could remember so many days we'd spent together - days in the park, where he'd chase birds and scare off the other dogs with his deep, throaty bark.\n\nJessica, my first girlfriend, who'd never gotten a dog at all. She'd never been able to understand why I was so caught up in 'that dumb animall'. We hadn't lasted long.\n\nDay after sunlit day, spent walking the trails for him to stretch his legs. I'd seen so many things, thanks to those 'walkies'. \n\nSarah's word, not mine. I remembered that too, seeing the little brown-and-black terrier loose on the trail ahead. The jolt of fear as Dusty charged on. He'd never harmed a soul - but -\n\nWe'd both laughed, as the big wolfhound rolled Peabody on his side just as gentle as could be, and jammed his nose up against the littler dog's butt.\n\nEverything had changed since then - but not us. Never us.\n\n\"Hey,\" Sarah said, her bony hand patting my back. \"It's all right.\"\n\n\"I know,\" I muttered, ruffling the big dog's ears. His eyes were rheumy and grey, the match of my own, and he hadn't been able to walk on his own for a few weeks. Even still, he looked at me with such unflinching faith that it hurt.\n\n\"All things have to come to an end. But don't regret any of it,\" Sarah murmured. \"He was happy. He was always happy. You gave that to him.\" Without another word, she slid from the room.\n\nI knew she was right. Modern medicine was miraculous, but there were some miracles too much to ask for. It had already given us almost seventy-five years together. But that time was doomed to run out eventually. I knew that.\n\n\"Just one more day.\" I said quietly, smiling at the big dog's happy face.\n\nWith one last good scratch on the back and a kiss on the head, I pulled the covers back and went to go find my pajamas.\n\n(/r/inorai, critique always welcome!)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,011	12,002	0.114354	1,816	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": "You die in a hospital bed after a long, rich, fulfilling life, surrounded by your family, grandchildren and loved ones. You get startled back into consciousness, back in Berlin, on that weird night when you were 26. \"Like I said\", the stranger says, pocketing your money. \"Save point.\"", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“Mom. Please…” I heard coming from my daughter in the chair next to my bed. \n\n“Oh sweetie, we all have to go eventually. You have given me the best life I could possibly have ever had. I gained a lovely son, and you’ve shown me the best grandchildren that I, and the rest of the retirement center, have ever seen.” I said in a weak voice.\n\n“Oh mom! Please. The rest of the family is on their way! Just hold on for a little bit longer.” My daughter pleaded with me.\n\nI could feel my breathing become shallow and lighter. My coughing has become more aggressive as my daughter wiped away the saliva on my cheek. \n\nI felt a sense of calmness overcome my body. Like floating along a calm river as my fingers and toes became numb. \n\n“97 years. 3 more and I would have had a free ice cream at the local parlor\" I said with a toothless grin. \n\nMy daughter wiped away her tears as she chuckled at my joke. \n\nMy hearing became difficult and I could no longer hear my daughter but could see her mouth moving. My eyelids slowly began closing as I could no longer feel my pulse. I could feel my lungs slowly inhale 1 last bit of air but not exhale as everything became dark. \n\nNothingness. \n\nThen I felt a giant rush of air overwhelm my body. \n\nI startled awake as the man sitting across from me in the train put a 5 euro bill in his pocket. \n\n“Wie Ich sagte. Speicherpunkt.” \n\nMy head felt a massive headache as I looked around. This wasn’t the medical hospital I was admitted to after another fall. \n\n“Where am I?” I said as I looked around. \n\nI looked at the window I was next to and saw myself in the mirror. Not as the 97-year-old senior spending her last days in a retirement home in Florida. But as the young mid 20 girl backpacking throughout Europe as a graduation gift. \n\n“Du warst lange weg. Geht es dir gut?” the man sitting across from me said as he looked on with concern.\n\n“uhhh uhhh… bitte. Eine minute\" I said shaking my head of the mental cobwebs as I looked around. I tried my best to recall the little bit of German I knew all those years ago. \n\n“sprichst du Englisch?” I said in my worst attempt at a language I haven’t spoken for almost 70 years. \n\nHe gasped slightly before coughing and leaning forward. \n\n“I'm so sorry.” He said in a mild German accent. \n\n“I often don’t do this for foreigners. More for die local folk. Good thing our education system teaches us multiple languages. Like I said before. Save point.” \n\nI Looked again in the window and felt my hands. The smoothness of them. My hair, silky smooth and not a bit of grey to be seen. My chest no longer sagging, but something I was proud to show off. I turned back to the man as he was raking a sip of beer from a bottle. \n\n“What happened? I remember so much happened. Why am I here?”\n\nHe put his drink down on the floor before turning to me. \n\n“You paid me to show you your future. So I did.” \n\nI looked at him in utter shock before speaking. \n\n“I thought you would read my palm, or look at the stars or some random crap, not actually let me see my future. I was 97! I saw my kids, grandkids, I married Phillip. I was at his funeral… I walked Melody down the aisle when she married Charles. Her beautiful white dress. We even got to include the dog Rambo as the ring bearer. Where are they?” \n\n“Gone. A figment of your mind. Or rather, not gone, but not existing yet. You have to live that future. Or don’t. I don’t care for die future of your life\"\n\n“What will happen if I don’t follow that future? If I decide to not go to Texas A&M? If I don’t meet Phillip during senior move-in day at the dorms? Or take that job over in Arizona?”\n\nHe took another sip of his beer as we entered a tunnel. The sounds of the train echoing as he spoke. \n\n“Then die future changes. Besides die mind is a fickle thing. Very smart sometimes, but sometimes it is very forgetful. Tell me, who is your husband?”\n\nI looked at him in shock at his question. \n\n“It obviously… wait. What was his name?” I said, shocked at how quickly I forgot the man I married and had a child with. \n\nHe smiled and finished the last of his beer. \n\n“Where did you go for university? What was your child’s name? Who did she marry?” \n\nI stammered as I tried my best to recall all the information I had in my prior “life\".\n\n“Why can’t I remember any of this?!” I shouted at him. \n\n“It is like ven you have die dream and you wake up only to find out, you cannot recall any details.\n\nThe train exited the tunnel as I could see us approaching a stop.\n\n“Do not worry about die future. Whatever happens, happens. It is up to you and only you to determine how you approach it.” He said as he gathered his backpack from the chair next to him. \n\n“What happens now when I die? Will I come back here again and see you again?” I said as the train began to slow down.\n\nI heard a chime from the PA system before hearing a German woman begin to speak. \n\n“Nächster Halt, Berlin.” as the train slowed to a stop. \n\n“That depends mein Fräulein. Do you have another 5 Euros?” he said to me as he stood up and placed his backpack on his shoulder. \n\nI placed my hands quickly in my pockets to search for more money. \n\n“Sorry, I don’t have anymore.” I said to him with a defeated look. \n\n“Then you will have 1 chance like everyone else. Pass auf dich auf” he said as he made his way to the doors and onto the platform. I heard another chime as the doors closed and the train began to slowly chug along down the tracks. \n\nI sighed as I looked out the window to see the man waving one last time before walking down the stairs of the platform. \n\nSide note: apologies if the German is wrong, blame Google translate! r/nywarpath\n\nEDIT: Thank you to all the German Redditors for helping me with the accent and more commonly used phrases. Danke!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
5,866	11,995	0.063121	1,652	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " One night while you were hanging out with your friends in a bar, you met a mysterious fellow who said he'd make you immortal if you give him beer money. Thinking nothing of it, you drunkenly agree. You are now the last man on Earth. As you walk alone, you cross path with the same man again.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I found her in what had once been an ocean, but was now a pit of mud that twinkled from a billion salt crystals. From high above it would have seemed like the night sky fell onto the earth. Perhaps it had.\n\nShe scooped up a handful of mud and heaped it on top of a small pile, unaware of me watching from a distance.\n\nCenturies had passed since I’d last seen her — since I’d seen anyone. But I recognised her instantly. Her white, plaited hair coiled like snakes down her back. Her dress billowed around her in the breeze, a patchwork of orange and ochre. A punctured parachute of silk and cotton.\n\nThe pile of mud grew as she slapped another handful of sodden earth onto it. Another and another, until the shaping began. Simple to start with, the figure little better defined than a mud-caked snowman. But with a sharp shell in her hand, she carved creases into it, creating long delicate grooves in its torso, and twisting deep ingresses into its face.\n\nI heard the the crunch of salt beneath my feet as I approached her, entranced by the sculpture.\n\nShe did not turn, but knelt down and began carving legs from the single stump of wet dirt that erupted up to its body.\n\n”I’ve been waiting for you,” she said without turning.\n\n“Have I been looking for you?” I said, my tongue thick and raspy. Dry from dust and disuse. Had I been searching for her? Had I been walking the earth, alone, for aching centuries, just to see this strange woman once more?\n\n”I said I’d make you immortal.“\n\n“I said you didn’t need to pay me back.”\n\n”Only because you didn’t think I could. Because I wore rags and my feet were naked.” They were naked still.\n\n”Was it a gift?“ I asked. A question sitting on my tongue since my youngest child had passed away.\n\n“That’s up to you.”\n\n”I’ve been lonely,” I said.\n\n“The end is always lonely. To be the final star in the sky is both an honour and a burden.”\n\nShe had made the creature two arms now, and was carving fingers into a ball of mud at one of their ends.\n\n”What are you doing?” I asked.\n\n”Starting over,“ she replied.\n\n“I think it looks good. You don’t need to—“\n\n”Humanity, I mean. I got it wrong last time. But this time, with your help, I won’t.”\n\nFor the first time in many lifetimes, I felt something. Excitement or fear or wonder. I could no longer put an accurate name to the emotion, but it was something, and that was enough. “You’re God?”\n\nShe laughed. “I’m just me. As you are you.”\n\nI watched her in silence for a long time, as the sculpture became more refined and somehow less and less like clay.\n\nThe sun yawned below the horizon, sparkling a hazy farewell over the salt. As the moon rose, the white plain became a cobalt shadow of its former self, as if we stood underwater at the bottom of a still great ocean. The lady paused for a moment as she cupped her hands over the ground to her side. A fire crackled to life. “Warm yourself,“ she said. “It’s easy to forget you’re cold.”\n\nI stood by the fire and felt my blood flow as if it had thawed. Still silent, still watching her curiously.\n\nEventually, she took a few steps back, drawing level with me, and examined her creation. “I will create more. But this will be the first human.“\n\n“It’s just clay,“ I said.\n\n”That is why I failed last time. They were just clay. But this time, they have you. They will begin with goodness inside them.”\n\nFear. I could identify that feeling. The rush of blood and the dizzy head. “You’re not putting me inside it!”\n\n”No,” she said. “That will be your choice. But without your help, each that I create will be flawed. It will all end again in war and death. Children will scream and their parents will weep.”\n\n”Then why remake us at all? Why bring us back if we are flawed.”\n\n”You are my children,” she said simply. “You do not give up on your children.”\n\nI stared at the sculpture. Funny how I recognised the woman with white hair, but not the sculpture of me. Not until now.\n\n”You are ready to leave,” she said. Or asked.\n\nI’d been ready for centuries and yet still wasn’t ready. “Death is different to being trapped.”\n\n“There will be a hundred sculptures. Men and women. Only this one will look like you, but each will contain and be enchanted by a hundredth of your soul. They will be guided by you. That is how they will be different and that is why I chose you.“\n\nI wanted to laugh. ”Because I gave you money for a drink?”\n\n”Because you are here, now. Because you did not give up. Because you always hoped there was something or someone. You could have left sooner, but you did not. You were not the only child I chose, but you are the only one still here. The humanity I intended.”\n\nI stared at her. Then at the creature. All I’d done was walk. Had kept walking.\n\n”They will be our children,” she said. “I will be their body and you will be their heart.”\n\nAfter a long while I nodded.\n\nShe placed a warm hand against my chest. Then with her other, cut into my belly with the shell. A breath of blue fog wrapped itself over her hand.\n\nThere was no feeling as a hundredth of my soul left. But there was as I watched her turn, as her hand pressed against the creature’s stomach. As its eyes opened.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
7,074	11,994	0.097263	727	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You live in a world where your soulmate is unable to hurt you, intentionally or otherwise. You are fighting in a war, when one of the enemy's knives harmlessly glances off you.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Kindred souls were rarer than rubies in a pigsty, and just as shocking when you found them. I'd only met a dozen or so bonded pairs, marked by their inability to harm one another. Some strong pairs were also said to feel warmth and contentment when in close proximity to their other half. They came in all kinds: friends, lovers, blood-brothers, found family. Whatever you wanted to call them, they were the same thing. Soulmates.\n\nSo when the enemy's blade slid harmlessly across my cheek, no more painful than if he'd struck me with a piece of straw, I hesitated. So did he. I recovered first, my reluctance at the thought of attacking my soulmate drowned out by the sheer impossibility of it. He couldn't be. Fate couldn't be that cruel.\n\nMy blade bit into his throat, coming away red, and my relief made my knees go weak. It was a mistake. It had to be. He just hadn't struck hard enough. That was all.\n\nThe next enemy soldier caught me by surprise as I touched my cheek, too distracted and unaware of my surroundings. His mace struck me straight in the chest, caving my armor and sending me flying back. I hit the ground, expecting the agony of broken ribs.\n\nBut there was no pain.\n\nI killed this soldier too. And the next. And the next. As one, their blows did not hurt me. I couldn't understand. How? Why?\n\nI fought with all of my strength, but eventually our position was overrun. We were captured while I remained unscathed. The soldiers dragged us, bound and disarmed to their camp.\n\nI still did not understand.\n\nAt least, not until we were lined up, and the general walked down the line to inspect us, his prisoners of war. As he passed me, our eyes met, his apathetic and mine terrified. \n\nI felt it. \n\nHis step hitched, and I knew he felt it too.\n\nWarmth blooming in my chest.\n*****\nr/Kathiana\nedit: Edited slightly for clarity.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,785	11,966	0.049382	1,574	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You have all the advantages, and disadvantages, of a video game hero. You can punch out elemental gods, but you cannot open a locked box. You can suplex a battleship, but a child can block you from walking down a hallway. You backflip-dodge bullets, but you can't jump over knee-high fences.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Quick! Wake up! The village needs your help!\" \n\nI peeled open my eyes and stared daggers at the ethereal blue alarm clock that came without a snooze button. \n\n\"I'll get to them later.\" I grumbled, pulling the covers over my head. \n\n\"Quick! Wake up! The village needs your help!\" The small fairy replied, frantically darting across my apartment. I finally caught it in an old mason jar and screwed the lid on. She'd be out by tomorrow morning. She always was. \n\nI rubbed my eyes and walked into the bathroom. The character creator screen popped up in my mirror, but I thought better of showing up to my job with a new face. I shaved, showered and dressed. It is nice just having to select or deselect clothes to get dressed and undressed. Small perks to make up for all the nuisance I suppose. \n\nI made my way down the sidewalk, avoiding eye contact at all cost. Normally nothing happened but I don't like to take chances. You never know who's going to announce themselves as an assassin and try to gut you. But rules are rules, and they need to make eye contact and announce themselves first before they make their move. One time a guy follow me a block trying to get me to look at him. I just stared straight up at the sky until I was out of his aggro zone. \n\nAfter searching a few trashcans for about 4$, I stopped at the coffee house. The girl I like was there, but because she was working I could only choose from one of three responses. \n\n>One hot coffee please.\n\n>Hear any news? \n\n>Goodbye\n\n\"One hot coffee please?\" I asked, trying to sound as pleasant as possible and not at all like a marionette being controlled by a third grade level writer. \n\n\"Sure thing!\" She said and gave me a smile. \"So how was your weekend?\"\n\nFuck. I cringed as the selection screen appeared to me again.\n\n>One hot coffee please!\n\n>goodbye.\n\n\"One hot coffee please...\" I half whispered, cursing my luck. \n\n\"Oh, yea of course. Sorry, I didn't mean to get to personal.\" She said, crestfallen, before she scurried to help a different customer. \n\nAnother employee handed me my coffee and I left, praying I could meed her off shift and talk to her like a person. After a block or two, I got to my office. The coffee had given me +2 energy so I was ready to get work out of the way. If I focused hard, it went by as a cutscene. Other times it made me do \"quests\" like, refill the stapler, or, submit the invoice paperwork. I walked in and saw the yellow exclamation point above my bosses head. I took a deep breath and walked over to him. \n\n\"[Character name] I have a job for you! I need you to...\", at that point I stopped listening and blindly hit the accept quest button. A few way-point markers appeared on my mental mini map and I set off to collect them. I don't know what I did. I got a few reams of paper together, made copies and gave them back to my boss. To my annoyance a loud \"Ding!\" alerted the office to the fact that my \"paper handling\" skills had increased. My boss looked at me blankly. \"What was that noise?\" He asked, narrowing his eyes.\n\n>Sorry, just my ringtone\n\n>Noise, what noise?\n\n>The sound your mother makes when I'm on top of her!\n\n\"Sorry, just my ringtone.\" I said and quickly excused myself. \n\nWork finally finished and I was able to head home. I took a few shortcuts through back alleys. The map gets really congested this time of night and the unit collision in this game is shit. Halfway down an alley I heard intense and frantic music start to play. I took a deep breath and waited.\n\n\"Your money or your life\" Came the desperate rasp, inches from my ear. I felt a point digging into my back, but my level was so much higher than him I knew it wouldn't be a challenge.\n\n>Stop criminal scum, you've violated the law!\n\n>Good luck.\n\n>Here, just take it! [Give money]\n\n\"Good luck\", I said without turning. I felt the knife poke me a few times, and watched my health bar drop less than two hit points. I turned around and watched him stab my torso repeatedly while losing all color from his face. Finally, the shaking slowed and finally stopped all together. The man turned away running down the alley begging for mercy. I laughed and continued on my way. I drank from the dirty puddle in the alley to regain my three lost hitpoints. \n\nAfter a long day I returned to my sanctuary zone to relax. I got fully rested from watching a nature documentary, I got a stamina buff from being well-fed, and I increased my intelligence by reading a book I had been meaning to finish. Before bed, I drew myself a nice hot bath, waited until the tub was almost filled and lowered myself gently in. Then everything went black. \n\n\"You Died\" appeared across the black screen. I knew there was a reason I didn't take baths. To my horror, I found I had turned auto-save off two months ago and was going to have to relive the hardest boss I'd faced. Corporate destination synergy symposium", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
5,588	11,961	0.029282	1,186	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You're a financial advisor. In 1994, you get a weird phone call from a man asking you if he can get any Bitcoin below $200k, and the call cuts off before you can ask him what Bitcoin was. Years later you get a call again from the same man, claiming he's calling back seconds after disconnection.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I must confess, when the bitcoin hit $15k I was tempted to sell. I had bought a ton of them the moment they first appeared, guided by an odd call I had received decades ago. For people like me, who care little about those slow-earning stocks, and love the adrenaline a good bet on a highly volatile company provides, every little hint of information, no matter how ridicule, was enough for me to spend all my savings.\n\nThe green numbers were my drug, and the red ones my motivation to invest more. Diversification they said, and I laughed at them when $MU sky-rocketed, and I bathed in tendies.\n\nBut I'm straying away. You see, if I sold bitcoin when it reached $15k I would've been set for life, but one does not simply ignore a call from someone telling you that he wanted to get bitcoin below $200k. That's a sort of legal insider information, despite how unreliable it was.\n\nOf course, as you may know, the bitcoin plummeted, and new cryptocurrencies rose. I won't lie, I panicked back then, and almost sold at $5k, but I forbid myself to do such a stupid thing. I knew it was going to rise, and it was going to rise like nothing the market had ever seen before.\n\nAnd then it hit $1k, and the ramen noodles were starting to make me sick. Still I waited, tear after tear, thinking about the amount of money I had lost, and how the people in the online forums called me names, and paid their respects with the letter F.\n\nBut then it happened. It rose slowly but steadily. The moment I saw this, I bought at $2K, and kept it. When it reached $15k again, my mind screamed to sell and stop the stress. But the stress is what made me feel alive, and so I held onto my bitcoins.\n\nTwo years later, it hit $199k, and the phone rang again.\n\n\"Hey man, this phone disconnected or something. Can I buy below $200k?\"\n\nI frowned. This was the man from the call from all those decades ago. The call that started it all. \"What do you mean the phone disconnected? It's been 30 years since we spoke.\"\n\nThe man laughed. \"Yeah sure, that coffee you are drinking must be quite strong. Now, can we talk business, please?\"\n\nConfused, but interested, I played his game. Perhaps he would accidentally give me the key to make another fortune. \"You can buy for sure below $200k. It's at $198k right now. But do you think it will keep rising?\"\n\n\"Keep rising? Absolutely not. It will hit $205k and then plummet to cents. I just want to buy, hold, and sell when it reaches $204k.\"\n\n\"I see. Well, I can make the operation for you. I just need your data.\"\n\nThere was no answer. Once again, the phone had disconnected.\n\nWithout a doubt, when it hit $204k I sold, and secured a fortune that would last for centuries. I became the richest man in the world, and became an angel investor, losing fortunes in start-ups that went nowhere.\n\nBut as thing goes, a young man approached me one day and pitched his invention. It was a telephone he claimed could communicate with the past. Everyone rejected him, for he had no proof that it worked, and when you used it you lost connection after a handful of seconds.\n\nI bought every patent and license the man had. He scampered happily away with his money, and I, as a good businessman, reserved the technology just for me.\n\nI grabbed the phone, and dialed a very old number.\n\n\"Hello, can I buy bitcoin below $200k?\"\n\n----------------------\n\nr/NoahElowyn ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,254	11,959	0.084581	1,002	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You just gave birth, your son has a colored hair like none before, the doctor declares that your son has been infected with a syndrome called the \"Protagonist\". Your lifespan has now been reduced to mere days.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Fate is a cruel being, and Luck is fickle. Capriciously, the two of them cast their dice, playing a game for the very universe itself, and we are mere pieces. Some are more important than others, some are just there as extras, filler, set-pieces. And some are Protagonists. I gave birth to a son, after a long and hard process, I held him in my arms, only to note with horror that his hair was a deep sky-blue. His eyes are heterochromatic, one a normal amber-brown, the other a dark purple. Protagonist Syndrome. Fate and Luck are now playing with my child as the centerpiece.\n\nAnd I will soon die.\n\nA Protagonist will lose family members early on, they will be forced into a life of heroics to make dead family members very proud, they will do exceptional things in their names. Though it won't matter. Because they are nothing but meat puppets, for Fate to dangle and Luck to cast down. Traditionally, nothing can be done to stop this. One of the parents always die. One survives as a broken shell and never recovers, spending the rest of their life taking care of the Protagonist and any other children they may have.\n\nI do not intend to die here. Yet I do not intend to see my husband dead either. The only option left is for me to do the impossible, be the invisible, fight the powers. Hair dye is probably not great for babies, but what other choice is there? Coloured contact-lenses aren't the best option either, but it'll have to do. My child will not be a plaything for the powers. I will not let him be ruled by capricious and selfish powers that count the lives of us mortals as worth less than dirt.\n\nAnd with a little work, my son looks normal. My husband supports me in this, perhaps we can hide him. Or perhaps we can't. Yet it was worth trying. Worth doing everything you could to stand against the powers. But it is not enough. One of us dies. I do not. 2 out of 3 times, it is the mother who is taken. So this time it is my husband. Attacked by a random mugger, killed, very tragic. And the powers, Fate and Lady Luck, believe that I will spend this life, caring for my child, mourning his father.\n\nThey don't know me. They don't understand who I am. And for their arrogance, they will pay. My son, the Protagonist, I leave with his grandparents, my mother and father. I explain what I have to do, to ensure that my son can have a life of his own choosing, to at least attempt to give him that. Leaving our old family home, to have my son raised by my own parents, I know what I must do. In the old family crypt, I take forth the family sword, I don inherited armour, and prepare myself for the journey ahead.\n\nI am not the Protagonist. I am not the hero. And yet I will do everything I can to end the tyranny of Fate and Luck. I am a mother, and I will give my child the greatest of all gifts, freedom, or I will die trying.\n\n[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,534	11,956	0.100761	1,304	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " It's the year 2851. Humanity develops interstellar travel and begins to explore the Milky Way galaxy in search for life. However, much to everyone's surprise, instead of alien life we find... Earth's biosphere complete with humans, repeated over and over at different stages of progress.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The collector's whip ripped through the air and lashed the human's back. A trickle of red ran down the man's skin, dripping down onto the parched desert floor.\n\n\"Please,\" Iu-iu begged, \"I can't go on.\"\n\n\"That is your prerogative, but if you fall human, know that you will never get back up.\" The collector smiled, his black, jagged teeth dipping out of his mouth.\n\nIu-iu stumbled back into line of men and women, and placed his blistered hands around the thick rope. The huge brick moved onwards, soon reaching the great structure's shadow.\n\nThe collector watched, satisfied. This was his favourite part of the Re-Culture - where his race would step in to help put humanity on the right track. For a thousand more years, he would be held as a God. Worshipped and adulated by the pathetic race around him. Then, after another five thousand years, the planet would be ready to harvest.\n\nThe brick was almost by the structure when Iu-iu fell. The collector ran his long tongue over his lips as he walked toward the body. He bent down, and in a single swift motion, snapped the man's neck. Then, he hoisted him over his shoulder and took him toward a nearby chamber, well hidden under the sand. \n\nHe would feast well tonight.\n\n---\n\n\"Captain,\" said first officer Kate Robins, \"we've found another planet.\"\n\nCaptain Richardson leaned down to the - now lit - monitor on the arm of his chair. \"Looks a lot like home - just a little greener. What stage of development is this?\"\n\n\"From the weather formations and the amount of ice remaining, the computer estimates 3000bc. We'll know more once we enter the atmosphere and can run some tests.\"\n\n\"3000bc?\" Richardson repeated.\n\nKate nodded.\n\n\"This'll be the first planet we've found anywhere near that period,\" he said, stroking his chin. \"I wonder what's going on down there.\"\n\n\"It's the start of the ancient Egyptian period,\" butted in Piraino, the ill-tempered archaeologist that they'd been forced to take with them. \"But I'd much prefer we found a planet a little more advanced.\" \n\n\"I thought you were into old stuff. I heard that's why you married Elizabeth.\"\n\nPirano glared at the captain, wondering for the hundredth time, how he'd possibly made it to that rank.\n\n\"I'm kidding, Pirano - lighten up,\" said the captain, raising his open hands.\n\n\"I am into old stuff - but we won't find an explanation for the cloned biospheres in the past. A version of Earth more advanced than our own, however, might be able to tell us.\"\n\n\"You never know what we'll find down there, Pirano,\" replied Richardson.\n\n\"Captain,\" Kate said, there's... something odd down there.\"\n\n\"Odd? How so?\"\n\n\"You're not going to believe this, but we're detecting a hell of a lot of radiation in the location of what would eventually become Alexandria, Egypt.\"\n\n\"Radiation?\"\n\n\"That's not all. There's some kind of neutron device down there.\"\n\n\"What!\" Pirano burst out. \"A neutron drive?\"\n\n\"That can't be right,\" mused Richardson. \n\n\"I've run the tests - three times. It's right.\"\n\nRichardson let out a deep breath. \"Better take us down. \"Somewhere uninhabited,\" he added. \"We can't risk interfering with their development.\"\n\n---\n\nPart 2: https://www.reddit.com/r/nickofnight/comments/6kg7yp/the_collectors_part_2/\n\nPart 3: https://www.reddit.com/r/nickofnight/comments/6kgt91/the_collectors_part_3/\n\nPart 4: https://www.reddit.com/r/nickofnight/comments/6khu39/the_collectors_part_4/\n\nPart 5: https://www.reddit.com/r/nickofnight/comments/6kiifw/the_collectors_part_5/\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,249	11,950	0.007688	628	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " In another universe, Bob Ross is a renowned chef who travels the globe giving good advice to troubled restaurants, and Gordon Ramsay is a famous painter with the angriest art show on TV.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Welcome to the Pain of Painting, an informative show about how to learn proper painting techniques. Over the course of this series, I will whip you into proper painters, ones worthy of being called artists. Not some splatter-painting, modern art-loving, quasi-intellectual sack of shit.\"\n\nHe sat on a stool, a blank canvas before him. \"Right, well, you set the palette up first. Carefully, add a bit of forest green and onyx, maybe a dash of aqua and white. We're going to lay a foundation for the trees. A scraper is actually best used for this, to easily create the branches and trunk without a guide.\"\n\nCautiously, he whipped his hand, leaving sharp, straight lines on the canvas. \n\nRamsay's hand slipped, ever so slightly, leaving a stray stroke behind. He chucked the palette, splattering paint against the wall. \"There are no mistakes, only monumental fucking failures that serve to remind you what a right twat you are.\"\n\nRising, Ramsay put his hands on his hips and stared the painting down intensely. He flushed red, then grabbed it and drove his fist through the landscape like an angry God. A destroyer of mountains and the king deforester. \n\n\"If you can't produce something worth a damn, you'll need to start over. Begin again, and get it right.\n\n\"That, or fucking quit before you waste the light that reflects off your trash heap and into my eyes. Yeah?\"\n\nStill wearing the canvas like a bracelet, Ramsay huffed and walked off-camera.\n\n/r/resonatingfury", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,104	11,948	0.096672	1,455	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You are a recently hired psychiatrist at a mental hospital. Some of your patients insist that they were once staff, but are being held prisoner by the actual patients that now run the hospital.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Stick-thin isn’t an exaggeration for Maren Greenwich. He looks like someone had stretched his face over a skull and made the walking skeleton smile and be extra nice to everybody. So, despite his ghoulish appearance, he is the only patient to always ask about my day and even save me some chocolate pudding from lunch. He is quite the sweetheart. Except to the cook. He hates the cook. Every day, the cook comes to his room to offer him his meal and every day, as soon as the man turns, he rushes over to the bathroom and purges himself of it. Smiling of course.\n\nI’m told the two have history, but when I ask Maren about it, his eyes go wide and his smile grows so far I’m afraid he’ll pull a muscle. Once, he actually did. And still he smiled, wincing in pain, but still smiling. My professional stance, as a psychiatrist, is that his smile is his shield and sword. It protects him in the illusion of happiness and spites some unknown force, desperate to make him unhappy. It’s very common among patients like him—to believe that someone or something is out to get him and that’s why Maren Greenwich smiles so much, to beat whatever that is at its own game.\n\nHowever, my personal stance differs. I once saw him stub a toe and his lips dipped for just a second. When he realized, his eyes widened and he redoubled his efforts to smile. That was when he pulled a muscle. I begged him to stop smiling. He refused. In the end, we had to put him under to stop himself from tearing his cheek muscles.\n\nThere is a desperation in the way Maren Greenwich smiles. Seething, bubbling, boiling, like a volcano waiting to blow and as soon as those lips collapse, I know the destruction will come. Though I suppose, that’s why he’s here. That’s why I’m here too. To save him.\n\n“Maren,” I say and yawn. My breath catches. How did I let the yawn escape me? Smoothly, I say “How is your day?” as if I hadn’t just yawned in his face.\n\nHe looks around us and then at me, studying my face. For a second, I believe that I’ve also left some spinach in my teeth. Then, I realized that I skipped lunch. Perhaps hanging around Maren so much has rubbed off on me.\n\n“You have bags, doc,” he tells me.\n\nI look on the ground and find none. My pen hovers over my pad, ready to scribble delusional, when I ask, “tell me more about these bags you see.”\n\n“No, not like that.” He shakes his head manically. “Under your eyes.”\n\nI brush my eyes with fingertips. Wipe powder sticks to my finger. I had thought my makeup good enough to hide my fatigue, but clearly not. “That’s very observant of you.”\n\n“I used to have the same, back when I was sitting in that chair.” His smile dwindle and his eyes glaze over.\n\nI take note. With Maren, reading facial expressions change. The dwindle of a smile isn’t actually him growing sadder, but him managing a real, but feinter grin. His cheek-to-cheek smile is his frown.\n\n“And what did you do in this seat?” I ask, playing into his fantasy.\n\n“Exactly what you’re doing. Helping. Counseling. Prescribing.” He angles his chin up, thinking. “Starving. Not sleeping. Dying.”\n\nMy pen flies through the legal pad. “Mmhmm,” I hum without looking up. “And how did you end up where you are, here?”\n\nFive bony fingers latch onto my wrist and I nearly drop my pen in fright. His fingernails are like talons, digging into my flesh. I look up and breath sticks in my throat, too afraid to emerge. He is no longer smiling.\n\n“I’m here because I’m not dead, yet,” he whispers. “Write on your pad that I’m happy. As long as I haven’t become as miserable as I made them, they won’t kill me.”\n\n“Okay,” I say in breathless voice.\n\nWith a nod, his smile slowly returns and with it, the usual Maren, back on the couch, talking about his day and how wonderful life is. “You won’t believe how tasty the pudding was in the cafeteria today, doc,” he says, almost singing the words. “I should’ve saved you some. You know? Next time I will.”\n\nI nod—more a twitch than a nod—and look down to write my notes. My eyes catch a scribble on the side of my page and my brow furrows. Maren looks at me, calm, content, smiling. “What is it, doc?”\n\nPatients here have no personal possessions. It was too easy for them to hurt themselves with one. So they had no toothbrush to sharpen, blankets to tie around themselves, or even pencils. Except, Maren apparently, who in the time he had grabbed my wrist, had also scribbled into my pad a single command.\n\nRun.\n\n---\n\n/r/jraywang\n\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,005	11,941	0.019454	2,052	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You ate your last apple almost a full day ago. The second hand on the clock creeps closer and closer to the 24-hour mark. Holed up in a cabin you ready your shotgun. You can feel them out there, waiting, watching. The Doctors.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "One of the reasons I moved into this cabin out in the wilderness was because of the seclusion. I wanted the peace and quiet so that I could write uninterrupted. The downside is how far I am from the nearest town. It’s an hour drive minimum, and unfortunately my battery died on my truck. To make matters worse, I’m out of apples. That’s right. Apples. \n\nA storm hit last night and knocked out the electricity. It’s still not running, and I’ve never gotten cell signal way out here. A journey on foot is too dangerous. There’s no way I’ll reach town in time and if I get caught out in the open, then it’s game over.\n\nSo, I’m just going to have to hunker down in the cabin until my electricity is restored or by some miracle, help arrives.\n\nI boarded up my windows. All except one, on the top floor. It’s too small for anyone to fit through, but my gun... well, that fits just fine.\n\nTwo hours to go. Two more hours until they arrive. My shotgun is downstairs and fully loaded. My rifle is upstairs, also fully loaded.\n\nOne hour to go. I swear I can hear them in the distance scribbling notes that nobody can read. I’m becoming more tense with each passing second. \n\nFucking apples.\n\nOne minute. They’re almost here. Come on, you highly educated motherfuckers! I’m ready. I’m fucking ready. You pieces of—\n\nTwo consecutive knocks on the front door.\n\nThe Doctors have arrived.\n\nTwo more knocks on my back door. Two more on the front. The back. The front. They start knocking on the walls, the boarded up windows... I can even hear them knocking on my truck. \n\nknock, knock\n\nknock, knock\n\nknock, knock\n\nIt’s the double doctor knock. They usually knock twice and then they enter, but not here. Not at my house. I made sure of it.\n\nI run upstairs and peer out the small window. There’s hundreds of them. A horde of doctors. \n\nI pick up my rifle and take a shot. I hit a doctor and he goes down. The other doctors run towards him. They kneel over him. \n\nWhat are they doing?\n\nThey spread apart.\n\nOh god. \n\nThey healed him.\n\nWhy didn’t I think of that? They’re fucking doctors.\n\nThey all simultaneously look up at me. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Something shoots past my ear and sticks into the wall beside me. I pull it out.\n\nIt’s a syringe.\n\nI rush downstairs. \n\nThe knocking starts again. \n\nknock, knock\n\nI can feel it below my feet. Oh shit, they’re in the crawl space.\n\nknock, knock\n\nI hear a drill. One they use to get through bone, I assume. A drill bit pops through the floor and misses my foot by an inch. The bit goes down and out. I see through the hole the eye of a doctor staring up at me.\n\nAnother drill starts up, and then another. Before I know it, all I can hear are drills. One bit after another popping up through the floor. They’re weakening the floor.\n\nI run for the stairs. A hand bursts through the floor and grabs me by the ankle, tripping me. Another hand breaks through and grabs me by the balls.\n\n“Cough.”\n\nHe’s trying to give me a physical. \n\nI knock his hand away with the butt of my shotgun and fire. Instant amputation. This distracts the other doctors. I run upstairs.\n\nI look out the window. Those that aren’t in the crawlspace are now sprinting towards it. That means they’ve made entry through the floor. I run out the room and look down the stairs. They’re inside. I shoot one as he ascends the steps.\n\nBoom. Distraction.\n\nI shoot another.\n\nBoom. Distraction.\n\nI shoot a third. \n\nBoom. Distract— oh no. He’s dead. There’s nothing they can do for him. They didn’t even stop to assess. They’re practically on top of me. \n\nI sprint towards the attic.\n\nBoom. Kill.\n\nBoom. Kill.\n\nGod dammit! They don’t slow down for kills.\n\nClick.\n\nClick.\n\nOut of ammo.\n\nA doctor sprints towards me with a thermometer.\n\n“Say, ‘ahh.’”\n\nFuck you, doctor bitch.\n\nI kick him in the balls.\n\nThey assess the damage.\n\n“Take two of these and hold this cold pack on it,” I hear one say as I climb into the attic.\n\nI seal it shut.\n\nknock, knock\n\nknock, knock\n\n“How are you feeling?” They begin asking.\n\n“Are you taking any medication?”\n\n“What symptoms are you experiencing?”\n\nFear. That’s what I’m experiencing.\n\nThe drills start back up.\n\nThey must all be in the house now. If I can get out of the house, I can make a run for it.\n\nIn my attic is an old ax. I begin chopping at the wall. \n\nchop \n\nchop\n\nchop\n\nA fist breaks through from below.\n\nchop\n\nchop\n\nchop\n\nAnother fist.\n\nchop \n\nchop\n\nchop\n\nAs another fist breaks through, I ram my shoulder into the wall. It moves. I ram again. It moves more. I rear back and use all my strength. Breaking through the wall, I fall about 25 feet to the ground.\n\nI’m hurt, and the doctors can sense it. But adrenaline propels me forward. I run through the woods. I can hear the doctors gaining on me. The leaves crunch under our feet.\n\nI’m running as fast as I can with what appears to be a sprained ankle and broken ribs.\n\nThey’re almost on me. \n\nRight as one grabs me I slip and tumble down a hill. I repeatedly bounce off the ground. The doctor rolling beside me. \n\nI hit a tree. \n\nI hit a rock.\n\nI continue tumbling, and then the ground finally levels out.\n\nI’m in agonizing pain. I open my eyes and see the doctor lying to my left, unconscious. The other doctors are carefully working their way down the hill. \n\nI roll over, defeated, and look up. I’m under a tree. Something is hanging from the limbs. Are those...?\n\nAPPLES!\n\nI search the ground around me. I’m surrounded by apples. The doctors are almost to me. I pick up an apple. The doctors sprint towards me. I raise the apple to my mouth and take a bite. The doctors stop moving.\n\n“How about them apples?” I laugh and then proceed to cough up blood.\n\nThe doctors look defeated.\n\n“That’s right! Fuck off, doctors,” I shout through the pain.\n\nThey just stand there. Staring.\n\n“What!?” I snap.\n\n“You’re pretty beat up. Want us to check you out?” A doctor asks.\n\nI sigh.\n\n“Ok, fine.”\n\n_____________________________________________\n\nCheck out r/TheGoshfather for more stories.\n\nThanks for reading!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,817	11,910	0.166631	1,671	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " In World War II, an American battalion has an enlisted dog that serves as their mascot. Throughout the war, the dog has been \"promoted\" several times. However, after a devastating defeat, the soldiers suddenly find that the dog is the highest-ranking surviving officer.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "######[](#dropcap)\n\n\"What do we do?\" Norman asked. \"We can't very well listen to a dog. Even if Luna happens to be a really smart dog.\" \n\n\"But we have to, right?\" Charlie's eyes nervously glanced from Norman over to the other soldiers. \"I mean, she's the highest ranking officer.\" He'd always been one to follow the letter of the law down to a T, and he wasn't about to stop now. \n\nThe other soldiers murmured their agreement. \n\n\"But how are we supposed to follow orders? Can she even give orders?\" Norman asked, frustrated with the lot of them. Couldn't anyone else see how ridiculous the current situation was? Was he the only one? He couldn't possibly be the only one out of these dumbasses to see how preposter--\n\n\"Wait! I have an idea, sir!\" One of the newer soldiers spoke up from the back. His name was Chris. He was relatively new, and didn't really stand out, other than his overly feminine features. He walked up through the path that was cleared for him towards Norman and Charlie, the next two highest ranking officers. \"We can listen. We get opinions on what the next action we take should be, and we place the different ideas around a room. Then, we can have Luna simply pick one of them out of the lot, and we follow it. She's trained to sniff out bombs. So who knows? Maybe she can sniff out a good idea.\" \n\nThe others soldiers began murmuring their opinions to themselves, some of them snickering while others groaned.\n\n\"Quiet!\" Norman glared at the lot of them. He turned his gaze on Chris. \"We're going to leave things up to random chance?\" he sneered. \"We might as well toss a die then.\" \n\nChris stood tall, his gaze unwavering. \"With all due respect, sir, I don't think things could be going worse than they're going right now. And if you don't have a better idea...\" \n\nNorman's jaw clenched. \"Fine,\" he snarled. \"We'll go with your idea. But if things go wrong, you can explain to the Governor why we were listening to a dog.\" With that, he stalked out of the room. \n\nThe rest of the soldiers fell silent. They'd seen Norman pissed before, but never that angry. But since he'd already agreed to the plan, it looked like they had to follow through with it, no matter how dumb they thought it was.\n\nSo it was determined. Each morning, people would put their slips of paper with the agenda they thought best into a ballot box, and a person would take the slips and organize them around the room. Then, Luna would bring one of the slips to Norman each morning. \n\nIt was a preposterous idea. Unheard of in history before, and unlikely to be heard of ever again in history after. It was a stupid idea. They might as well have had apes tossing darts onto a board. And it was...an effective idea. \n\nThey began winning the battles. One after another. No soldiers lost. At first, Norman couldn't believe it. He attributed it to luck the first three times. But after it worked for the fifth, the sixth time, he had to admit it was God's will. What other reason could there be after all? \n\nUntil one day, almost three months after they had began implementing the plan, he saw something. In the dead of night, a flash of white pajamas caught his eye as he was going to the restroom. Curious, he didn't call the person out, instead following them as they walked down the hallway of the barracks and into the room where Luna was kept. Norman gingerly crept after the man, then stopped right outside the room. \n\nThey spoke softly, but their surroundings were quiet enough so that he could still hear what they were saying loud and clear. \n\n\"Good girl, Luna! Good girl! Here's the one for tomorrow, alright? You got a good sniff? Good girl.\" Then the sound of panting and a tail wagging, and Norman backed up into the shadows as footsteps drew closer. In the moonlight, he saw who it was. \n\nChris. \n\nSo Chris had been manipulating the vote every time. Norman's fists clenched in anger, and he nearly called out. He stopped himself just in time. And his fists slowly unclenched. He had to go talk to the Governor. \n\n&nbsp; \n\nThe next morning, Norman called Chris into his office. Chris sat down, his gaze steady, even as Norman gave him the chilliest look he could muster. \n\n\"I know what you did,\" Norman said. \"With Luna. I saw you last night.\" \n\nA flash of surprise crossed Chris's eyes, but he quickly covered it up. \"I'm sorry, sir.\" \n\n\"You've made a mockery of this entire unit,\" Norman said frostily. \"Disobeyed orders, and showed a complete lack of respect for everything we stand for. I talked to the Governor yesterday,\" he said. \n\nChris swallowed. He did feel sorry. He truly did. But he didn't regret his actions. He would do it again if he had the chance. If it meant he could save more lives, what was his reputation worth anyway? What was dishonor worth? \"I'm sorry, sir. I'll pack my things right away.\" He stood up and bowed. \n\n\"Yes, pack your things,\" Norman said. \"Because you're being promoted to Sergeant. I've always thought you were smart, boy. But don't do something like this again,\" Norman grunted. Then he stood up and walked past Chris, giving him a hard pat on his shoulder on his way out. \"You're as crazy as a bat and have no respect for authority,\" he said. \"But maybe crazy is what we need to win this war.\" \n***\n\nGotta admit, this is the strangest story I've ever written.\n\nIf you liked this story, I write loads more over at r/AlannaWu!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,082	11,905	0.220488	991	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You can magically sense when a car you are driving next to is on a course to be in a fatal accident. The only way you can prevent that outcome is by cutting them off and slowing them down. You are this city's most unsung hero, known by most as 'that asshole driver'.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "It was a bleary Saturday night. Most people spend them with friends, laughing and playing games, but I'd worked late testing a weekend deployment. On my way home, there were few cars, which always makes a drive more pleasant for me. \n\nAfter a few minutes on the highway, a red Volvo approached on my right, swerving a little. I looked at it in my rear-view mirror and felt that tingle set in, like a prickly shiver. Acting quickly, I cut him off with a light tap of the horn, and he angrily honked back at me. I'm used to the sound. \n\nAs they always do, he merged left to pass me, albeit a bit jarringly. He blazed past, engine roaring, then cut in front again. I felt another shiver. \n\nI sped up, far too fast, and cut him off once more, earning another horn blare that held for multiple seconds. He swerved around me, and I glanced at his car, dim in the dark stretch of unlit road. The tingle returned, again, more like the pricking pain of a leg that's been asleep too long. And another, different still.\n\nHow?\n\nHe held to my left as we raced but pulled ahead, nearly hitting the median with a swerve. There was a car up ahead, and I felt another, much more painful prickle, like I'd been wrapped in needles. As we came over the bridge, for just a brief moment, I saw him through the passenger window. It's hard to say, but... he looked to be holding something in one hand. A bottle, maybe. \n\nAnd with one slick motion, he swerved across the gap in front of me, ramming into the other car on the road and destroying the steel railing like it was made of tin foil. The second car, a white minivan, rolled like tumbleweed across the highway, tossing bits and pieces of warped metal. I slammed my brakes, pulling off to the shoulder, and peered frantically over the edge. There was a whirlpool of turbulent foam, violent bubbling, and I could just barely make out the distorted glow of red taillights. Back on the highway, the shrapnel was scattered in a trail leading up to the crumpled, smoking remnants of the car that had been hit. \n\nI'd gotten so used to saving people that I didn't know what failure felt like. \n\nIt felt like I was the one who had been smashed and strewn across the road-- only I survived, unlike the family of four he hit. Was it my fault? Did my trying to stop him cause a worse accident than if I'd let him drive into a ditch somewhere? I don't know. But ever since then, I've done my damndest to move past it and save as many as I can. Maybe I can't help everyone, but the least I can do is try and balance things out a little. I'll be that asshole and endure berating on the road, screamed at and flipped off, so that I can make a difference-- however small. \n\nCutting off one person at a time. \n\n/r/resonatingfury", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,351	11,902	0.085169	1,340	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " an assassin has finally retired after getting enough money to last him 50 lifetimes, but being only 30, he still enjoys the thrill. He joins the police force and is immediately recruited for his skill in all Fields. But when he is assigned to hunting down himself for his past, he must be smart", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"You're putting me on an imaginary perp?\" I ask.\n\n\"This guy's no imaginary killer,\" the commissioner states. \"We've heard many reports that this guy actually exists.\"\n\nTrying to keep the shock off my face, I thumb through the folder. \"Looks like they're all accidental deaths.\"\n\n\"But that's just the thing - each of these people had someone who wanted them dead. They were all rich, powerful men with access to the best medicine and doctors. And they all die of accidental or natural causes? Mysteriously?\"\n\n\"This guy was eighty,\" I say, tapping the picture of one of my targets.\n\n\"He fell off a cliff while rock climbing. What eighty year-old goes rock climbing?\"\n\nHeh. That one was a bit awkward, I'll admit, but I'm just glad I didn't have to resort to a gun. I shrug, and sip at my stale department-standard coffee. Tastes awful, especially when I've got the five-hundred-dollars-a-cup stuff at home. \"Was an eccentric guy. Could've been an adrenaline junkie.\"\n\n\"There's one more thing. It's subtle, but at every crime scene, there was a mark painted in special ink - visible only in ultraviolet light. We've kept this quiet to avoid a panic, but it's always the same guy.\"\n\nSo they did find my calling card, after all. Mentally, I kick my younger self for being so arrogant.\n\n\"You're the best this department has. I need you on this case.\"\n\nI can't turn it down without looking suspicious. \"Yes, sir,\" I murmur.\n\n---\n\nWhen I get home, I sweep my house for bugs and collapse onto the couch. \n\nWhat the fuck am I going to do? I always knew my old life would catch up to me. \n\nI descend into my underground shooting range and sling some lead while I think. It's a concrete chamber buried deep underground, soundproofed to avoid any incidents with curious neighbors. A rack of weapons ascends from a nearby hidden platform as I approach. I pick out a few, and start loading the magazines by hand. \n\nThis always helps me think. Handguns. Rifles. Doesn't matter what it is, I can play it like a maestro.\n\nThe handgun kicks in my hands as I fire again and again. The bullet holes are all perfectly clumped around my targets' noses. \n\nAt the very least, I've got options. I joined this new life for the thrill, and it hasn't let me down yet. I could always run - I've certainly got enough assets under different names to do that. But do I really want to do that? I like my new life, my new house, my new coworkers. I don't get to shoot the interesting guns as much as I'd like, but that's what this range is for.\n\nMy phone rings. It's the commissioner.\n\n\"Walters, get down here right away.\"\n\n\"What?\" I say, before I remember to take out my ear protection.\n\n\"The assassin. He's struck again. Unloaded fifty bullets through a warehouse window, wiped out- wiped out the target. Looks like someone tipped him off, and he's dropping all subtlety. He left the same mark by the body.\"\n\nThat can't be right. I've been in my house all night.\n\n\"Who was the victim?\"\n\n\"Moss. She was investigating the warehouse down by the docks.\"\n\nA pang of - something unidentifiable - runs through my chest. I genuinely liked her.\n\n\"I'll be there in ten, sir. Let's get this bastard.\"\n\n\"Damn right.\"\n\nI may not be an assassin anymore, but there's someone out there who is - and who's decided to piggyback on my reputation.\n\nTime to find the son of a bitch.\n\n----\n\n[Part One](https://redd.it/bq3qf3)\n\n[Part Two](https://redd.it/bq46cm)\n\n[Part Three](https://redd.it/bqg2qo)\n\n[Part Four](https://redd.it/brtj07)\n\n[Part Five](https://redd.it/bs5fgv)\n\n[Finale](https://redd.it/bs6e9u)\n\n\n---\n\nWant more? Subscribe to /r/OneMillionWords", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,531	11,896	0.208712	2,169	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Turns out, Earth is actually unique in the fact that nearly all of it's natural features, like quicksand, and processes, like earthquakes, can kill you. Most other planets dont do that. So when aliens invade, 90% of the fighting is done by Earth.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“Sergeant! Report!”\n\n“Sir!” A lightly armored man responded to the commander quickly. “Seven of the eight recon squads have returned from the Kansas Landing Zone, no friendly casualties and an estimated 72,500 dead Spacos. The hurricane got ‘em.”\n\n“A hurricane. Just like the earthquakes in the CLZ, and the ALZ freeze event,” the commander muttered. “But why would they just march into a natural disaster? Sergeant, reinforce the lines. I want eyes on the sky for the next Landing Zone!”\n\n“But sir,” the sergeant responded. “By the reports from across the world, the Spacos have been dropping like... like... well, like Spacos. Even flies don’t die this quickly!”\n\nThe commander stood from his seat and frowned an even deeper frown than before, the lines in his face deepening into veritable chasms. “Are you stupid Sergeant? You think that aliens would master the inhospitable hell of the void, to travel across an endless space and invade Earth, only to fall to the most mild natural events our planet has to offer? No.” He began shaking his head. “This is a ploy. If they can waste 580,000 lives on the United States alone, and another 2.4 million at Landings across the globe, then this is just the scout force. They’ve got more up there, they have to. Millions. Billions maybe.”\n\nThe sergeant shuddered at the thought of billions of Spacos landing on Earth with their horrifying plasma throwers and kinetic shields.\n\nThere’d been three pitched encounters when they first arrived in September a month ago. One in eastern China, another in Russia around Moscow, and a third in what was once Arizona. Alone, by simple fact of the sudden attack, the three nations had thrown everything they had at the marching legions, only to have hundreds of thousands of men and women turned into glowing green sludge — entire battalions melted into goo, with their equipment fused together in the aftermath. What was worse, their own guns didn’t seem to faze the Spaco menace. The best anybody could muster was a sustained artillery barrage, but even that only slowed the enemy onslaught. \n\nLiterally. The Spacos just started moving like in slow motion, the energy of the explosive blasts absorbed somehow into their alien gestalt. And once the energy dissipated, they began moving again like nothing had happened. Russia had tried to nuke the aliens before they got into Moscow proper — all they bought was a day of immobilized, invincible Spacos, and then they just started right back up. \n\nTo be fair, they also annihilated any hope of the Moscow region supporting Human life for the next several centuries. \n\nNobody else had tried nuclear weapons. China proved the tactic of massed infantry assault a flawed prospect, and America? Well, seemed like somebody in the US chain of command had read their Livy: the USA just avoided them.\n\nAnd they started dying.\n\nIt wasn’t the viruses like Wells wrote, or plucky air force geeks breaking into the mothership that turned the tide. It was, for lack of a better term, the stupid shit that killed them. \n\n300,000 Spacos died in Alaska when the first snow fell in early October. Every man, woman, and homeless child had the clothes necessary to survive a 30 degree Fahrenheit night, but the fucking Spacos just... well, the previous day they’d been marching on Anchorage, and the next there were legions of Spacosicles lining Route 1, ten miles from town.\n\nAnother hundred thousand Spacos died when a Magnitude 3.5 Earthquake hit just east of San Francisco in late September. Total casualties? Four already-condemned buildings, one lost dog, and 100,000 elite alien invasion soldiers. \n\n“Madness,” the commander thought. “Utter, fucking madness.” The military man frowned and settled back into his seat, shuffling through reports from other nations around the globe. 50,000 dead in a Central Asian sinkhole. 2 Million lost in a monsoon. The numbers were impossible. Just daft.\n\nThe commander looked up as a commotion came into range of hearing outside the command tent. It sounded like the soldiers were shouting? Yelling?\n\n“What in the fuck do they think they’re doing!?” The commander rose, anger erupting from him at the idiocy of his troops. Hadn’t he made clear? No sound, no partying, and no GIVING AWAY THEIR POSITION!\n\nChecking the pistol at his side, the commander stormed out of the tent into the chill air - a cool day to be sure, but not below freezing. He doubted even a lifelong Floridian would need much more than a jacket for this weather.\n\nThe Spacos in front of him, by contrast, looked like they were on brink of freezing to death. The first hundred or so that he scanned had their thin, spindly arms in handcuffs tightened almost as far as possible to get a good fit on their biceps. The next hundred were tied up with ropes, cables, and other random camp assortments. The thousand behind them just stood shivering, weaponless and without the telltale shimmer their shields emitted. \n\nThe commander’s sergeant came out of the tent as well and whistled.\n\nThe commander found the highest ranking soldier in sight and said, “What is this?”\n\nThe soldier smiled, showing the characteristic lack of teeth so common in the Kentucky Brigade, a nickname for the mass recruitment of literally anyone who was willing to serve against the alien threat. \n\n“We gots the Spacos boss man sir,” the man drawled. “They just came up on us, no weap’ns, no arm’r or anyth’n.”\n\nBemused, the commander became ever more confused when one Spaco stepped forward and said in passable English, “Grave request. Surrender invasion. We are lost.”\n\n—-\n\nIn the coming years, the scientists, sociologists, and military folk would conduct a full analysis of the Black September War, where aliens first landed and faced the truth of our deadly world. Not deadly humans - no. The aliens showed us quite effectively how useless humans were, in the grand scheme of things. They’d killed an estimated billion people in a month, carving through the armies that we threw at them across the globe. \n\nHumans were useless. Earth, though. Turns out Earth is a tough bitch of a planet; in fact, more than that, it turns out, the eggheads were wrong — life out there? In the cosmos? Generally its pretty freaking great. The vast majority of planets are perfect landscapes of temperate weather that basically provide everything a living being might need. The concept of “Seasons” was so foreign to the Spacos that they never considered the temperature might drop below 50, (or for that matter rise above 70 — a couple hundred thousand Spacos seemed to have died in the Australian desert during one of their “balmy days”). \n\nAnd then throw in the other effects of living on a geologically active planet, and the aliens were doomed. They’d never heard of ‘earthquakes’ before, or ‘hurricanes’ or ‘quicksand’. If only they’d caught up on middle school boys literature before they invaded, maybe then they’d know not to keep walking into quicksand, tsunami flood, or gale-force winds.\n\nThe price was high, but Earth was getting ready. The aliens had come for earth and found it impossible to tame. Now, the best scientists readied their creations and loaded them on the captured alien ships, prepared to take off and plant Green and Blue flags on the worlds of their would be conquerors. \n\nMankind knew their weaponry was useless, but their Earthquake Cannons? Their Weather Rays? Alien science provided the mad geniuses of the world that last step necessary, and with the rage of a billion dead humans, they prepared their assault. The universe might be a pleasant place to live now, but that time was coming to an end. \n\nHumanity was coming.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
8,369	11,889	0.075064	1,835	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Every child is given a pet rock when they turn ten. For the next decade the rock slowly forms into a shape that resembles the personality of its owner. Your rock still looks like a rock.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I always regretted the name.\n\nI loved the rock, just hated the name. If you're going to be given a lifelong companion at the age of ten, I feel like you should be extended a do\\-over on the name front at some point. But it is what it is.\n\nRocky. Rocky the Rock Pet.\n\nReceiving your rock pet is a big deal. Granted, it doesn't take much to qualify as a big deal when you're ten, but I still remember the handoff with some affection. It was the day of my birthday and mom took me in the car downtown. Every town that had more than a few buildings had a certified Rock Handler.\n\nOur Rock Handler was Franklin, the nice man who tended the corner store. He had a rock that was just for me. It came in a little box with a bow on it. The tag read: \"To: James Williams, From: US Department of Rocks.\" I remember carefully untying the ribbon and removing the top of the box. The rock was wrapped in some tissue paper and there was a paper with a bunch of instructions on it.\n\n\"What are you gonna name it Jimmy?\" Franklin asked.\n\n\"Rocky,\" I replied, staring into the box in wonder.\n\n\"You know how special Rocky is, right?\"\n\n\"Yes Mr. Donnelly, I know. He is going to be my friend and we're going to grow up together.\"\n\n\"That's right. You take extra care with it, ok? You only get one because there is only one in the whole wide world for you.\"\n\nI nodded, and spoke into the box, my voice a whisper, \"Don't worry Rocky. I'll aways protect you.\"\n\nMy mom smiled at Franklin and then knelt down beside me. \"I think Rocky is a great name. I still have Princess and she is one of my very best friends.\" She patted her pocket. \"It will be exciting to see what both of you turn out to be.\"\n\nOnce we were back in the house, I pulled Rocky out of the packaging and looked at him for the first time. He felt very heavy in my hand. He was white with little swirls of grey and shaped a bit like a brick. I memorized every little detail, knowing that he would change over time. I wondered what he would become.\n\nIt was the happiest day of my life.\n\nMaybe its sad that receiving a rock meant so much to me, but I didn't have a lot to begin with. We weren't rich. Mom worked at the grocery as a checker and dad worked on the line at the manufacturing plant. We didn't go on trips, or out to eat, or any of the things people always seemed to be doing on the TV. There wasn't money for that. It was ok, food was on the table and I had two parents that loved me.\n\nI spent a lot of time alone. Dad worked the night shift and mom was working doubles a lot. But I had a pet rock. Every day I would sit with Rocky and tell him about the things happening in my life. Every night before bed, after mom gave me my kiss, I'd give Rocky an inspection to see if he had changed.\n\nHe never did.\n\nMy life changed though. A few years later the plant shut down. Dad said he didn't know how to do anything else but work the line, so he didn't do anything else. He was very angry. He drank. A lot. He wasn't nice when he drank. It just seemed to make him more angry. Sometimes that anger would be directed at me, but mostly he went after mom.\n\nI knew something was wrong, but it I didn't know how to fix it. Dad was broken. His rock was broken too. I saw it on the ground of the basement one day. It was black and split in two. He didn't know how to put himself back together. I think he wanted to, but maybe it just got harder every day and he lost the way back.\n\nI held mom a lot when she cried. I didn't cry. Not in front of her.\n\nI waited until it was quiet in the house and then I would crawl into the bed and would cry with Rocky in my hand. Every night I would look at him, hoping that he would change. That he would let me know that I was growing and becoming something different. That the future might be different than the present.\n\nBut he was still the same.\n\nMy life changed more. Got worse. There were fights now. Physical ones. Mom wasn't very big or strong so she lost a lot of the time. Sometimes I would try to push dad away. His eyes were wild, like an animal. He couldn't control himself any more. When he was sober, I could see the regret, but he couldn't figure out how to say sorry. To make it better.\n\nMom said she should leave him, but she couldn't. She said she had made vows and that they meant something. I didn't understand why those words she said all of those years ago were more important to her than herself. But I was still young. So I was there to put her back together when he broke her apart.\n\nAnd then one day he was gone.\n\nHe walked down to the basement and he never came back up. The police came by and made a report. They said it was alcohol poisoning. That he had drank enough to kill three men. They said they would write it up as accidental, but we knew it for what it was. I was old enough to understand.\n\nFor all of the pain he had caused, mom still loved him. She wasn't the same after that. She smiled less. Her days were simply a routine that she followed to get to the next day. Men would float into her life and float back out without making an impression. Sometimes, she would tell me she blamed herself. That he killed himself to spare us.\n\nI don't know what I think about that. All I can think of when I think of dad was that black rock split into two on the basement floor.\n\nRocky was still the same though. Not a swirl had changed.\n\nIt was like that until mom got sick. Cancer. Maybe it was all of the cigarettes. I don't really know. She was so ill. She had nothing left to fight it off with. Life had hollowed her into a shell and cancer crumpled that shell. She faded away. She had given everything to me and I couldn't do anything to help her. Just sit beside her on the bed as she decayed.\n\nOne night, as we sat quietly in the hospital, I pulled out Rocky. He looked just the same. As he always did. I broke down into tears.\n\n\"What's wrong honey?\" Mom whispered, her voice thin and reedy.\n\n\"He still looks exactly the same. Just like a rock.\"\n\nMom smiled and patted me on the hand. \"That makes sense Jimmy.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because you were always my rock.\"\n\nAnd then she was gone.\n\nr/PerilousPlatypus", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,254	11,876	0.00867	813	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Bob Ross was actually a serial killer that painted where he buried his victims. His paintings are becoming suspicious and the body count is rising.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The latest episode was starting. Mark sat at the television, watching, waiting.\n\nBob came on screen, like he always did. The smile he gave the world once seemed carefree and kindly to him, but Mark could now only see the inner smugness in his teeth, the way his eyes shifted around in their sockets, the glee of somebody getting away with murder.\n\nIt had occurred to Mark that he may have gone mad. But therapy could wait. He was onto something. He knew it.\n\n“Hello, and welcome to another episode of The Joy of Painting. Now today we're going to try something a little different, but don't worry -”\n\nMark sneered to himself at the line, eyes darting over to the walls of his home. They were covered in photographs, pictures from the show, some from behind the scenes. Police reports were stacked on his desk, missing person reports to be exact. Hundreds of interviews from terrified parents and concerned spouses, looking for their family and friends, desperately hoping for any update, unaware that they would never see them again.\n\nBecause of Him.\n\nBob was applying the first few strokes to the canvas, but Mark was lost in thought, lost in his hatred for the smug murderer on screen. The nice-guy persona didn't faze him a bit nowadays.\n\nHe had initially made the connection by accident. A photograph of the crime scene was featured in the daily paper, and Mark had the feeling he'd seen it before. And just like that, a side-by-side comparison made it obvious. Bob had painted the scene of the crime, down to the individual trees.\n\nAnd he'd painted it on television. On television, in front of hundreds of thousands of viewers.\n\nHe turned his attention back to the screen. Bob was working on the foreground, carefully applying a shade of dark green. Any beauty the image might have once held was gone. Instead, a single question remained.\n\nWho was buried there?\n\nMark didn't realize it until the episode was almost done. Bob was meticulously placing the branches on a single tree in the background, a strange tree that was split down the middle.\n\nWith a start, Mark got to his feet and ran to the window, looking out at his backyard.\n\nAnd in his backyard was a single tree, split down the middle.\n\nBob's voice spoke from the television in the living room:\n\n“Well, that's it for this episode. I made this painting for a dear friend that I haven't seen in a while. It's gonna be so great to give it to him in person.”", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,689	11,875	0.009966	916	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives...", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "It was my 18th birthday.\n\nThe beach party my friends were so kind to have organized was dying down. The sun was setting, and the moon was high overhead. Small groups of people splashed about in the water, sat on beach towels talking, creating a warm hubbub around me. A small driftwood fire was being constructed nearby.\n\nI stood at the water's edge, sipping a cola, pondering my life, when a volleyball beaned me in the back of the head, spilling my drink. I stumbled forward, catching myself just before I faceplanted into the drink. Turning around, Jon, my best friend, snorted as he approached.\n\n\"You dickhead,\" I mumbled, as he handed me another drink. He reached his hand out, and the errant volleyball flew back into his hand. Being a few months older than me, he knew where he wanted to be the moment he got his hands on the ball. He was always the better athlete.\n\n\"Tried summoning anything yet?\" He asked, clapping me on the back in apology.\n\n\"Nah. I don't really want to know. I feel like it might limit my options,\" I said, taking a sip.\n\n\"What is this stuff?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"Janine made it. She's been trying to make wine ever since she caught that vintner's hydrometer.\"\n\nMy eyebrows raised. \"Anybody who brews anything uses hydrometers.\"\n\nHe laughed. \"She'll find her spot eventually. Maybe after giving several people alcohol poisoning, but she will. People always do.\"\n\nHe gave me a look and put a hand on my shoulder. \"You need to get started. So try to summon something!\"\n\nI looked behind me, at my friends and family, who had finished with their business and had turned to see what Jon was on about. They met my gaze. Mom gave an encouraging gesture.\n\nI shrugged, closed my eyes, put my right arm up, and willed for something to land in it.\n\nFor a moment, nothing happened. There was a pregnant pause, as everybody looked confused, then the ground itself rumbled. The waves, until then gently lapping at my feet, grew restless, more violent, as if the sea itself began to stir. I heard gasps behind me and Jon's grip on my shoulder tightened.\n\n\"Stop stop STOPSTOPSTOP!\" He yelled, panicked. Concerned, I opened my eyes and looked at him, ceasing my will. His eyes were turned upward, alarm, gobsmacked gaze locked on the sky. Had I pulled a plane out of the air or something? \n\nI looked up, expecting to see an airliner or something in a nosedive. My eyes widened. \n\nNope. The Moon was bigger. Noticeably bigger. Oh dear.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,820	11,860	0.01627	1,655	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": "You are fluent in latin. After a car accident, you find yourself in a fantasy world. In this world, humans have been slaves to other species, all of whom use magic. Human have the capability to use magic, but only by learning the elve's language. After hearing it, you find that it is latin.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I’d died.\n\nI was sure of it. The truck had hit me head on, and that had been it. The darkest blackness followed by the brightest white.\n\nAnd then I’d woken up here.\n\nWhere ever here was.\n\nThe buildings were like nothing I’d ever seen before. I was pretty sure that a good third of them were living trees with buildings inside of them. Then there were the stone monstrosities. Not castles per say, but more like above ground caves. Or inside out? I’m not sure. I’d not been inside one yet - humans weren’t allowed.\n\nThat was the kicker, the real I’m not in Kansas anymore moment. Elves, orcs, dwarves, dragons, you name it from fantasy and it’s here.\n\nAnd the Elves ruled it all.\n\nI’d only met one or two so far, been issued a few short commands, and sent on my way. I was a slave, I guess? I was fed and housed, and they hadn’t made me do anything yet, but others did. It was also apparently normal for human’s to just arrive here? I wasn’t the first, nor was I the only one from Earth, but no one seemed to want to talk about home. It almost felt as if they’d forgot about it since they’d been here.\n\nIt made my skin crawl.\n\n“You there!” an orcish guard said, pointing at me, and gesturing me over. It was early in the morning, and I’d been just about to line up for breakfast.\n\nTaken aback, I looked over my shoulder, as if there might be someone standing there behind me. But I’d been the last one to leave our bunk area and was most definitely the one he was talking to.\n\n“Yes, Sir?” I asked politely. I’d seen guards like him beat others when they weren’t respectful enough.\n\n“You’re due for your job assignment today. Follow me.” He glared at me, as if daring me not to follow him.\n\nMy stomach grumbled once, as the smell of fried eggs and whatever that tuber like vegetable was, they fed us, floated passed. But I didn’t stop to look back. I was hungry, not stupid.\n\nWe exited the low structure that we humans lived in and crossed a small plaza to one of the living tree buildings.\n\nI wanted to ogle around myself, but I’d been told to keep my eyes down and keep quiet. The others knew that I’d be assessed soon, and they had at least shared that experience with me. It should be mostly painless, and if I was biddable enough, quick.\n\nUp two flights of stairs that seemed to be floating on air, not suspended by the tree or anything else I could see, and I was in a small room. The orc mumbled something to an Elvish woman in dark orange robes, and then headed out.\n\nThe woman turned her gaze from him, to me.\n\n“Sit.”\n\nThere was no gesture, and the words were spit out as if she loathed speaking at me. I did as she commanded. In the only chair in the room, I sat, perched uneasily on the edge.\n\nI’d been a scholar back home. Or as my parents seemed to call it, a forever student – getting out of paying my loans by continuously enrolling in more classes. There were humans here who curated the Elvish libraries, and I hoped I’d be assigned a role like that. I wasn’t exactly the physical labor body type.\n\nMy focus stayed on the elf, who was pacing back and forth looking at me, disdain written across her face.\n\n“Name?” she asked, though we both knew it didn’t matter, she’d be assigning me a new one momentarily anyways.\n\n“Drew.” I kept it short, and two the point. No need for my titles or even last name.\n\nShe frowned for a moment, then said, “Lean back.”\n\nI did, though I could feel my heart thudding in my chest as I moved. I was anxious, and I just wanted this to be over with.\n\nShe walked behind the chair and hovered her hands on either side of my head and started chanting.\n“Indica mihi, est natura eius. Ostende mihi, quid…”\n\nLatin? She was speaking Latin.\n\nBut her hands were glowing an ominous red, and she’d asked for it to ‘Reveal my nature’? I couldn’t help it, my head twisted to look up at her.\n\nHer eyes narrowed, and as she said, “Stop moving,” a small spark of magic shocked me.\n\nShe started speaking again, and more Latin followed. I couldn’t believe it. Magic here was powered by Latin – one of my three language degrees.\n\nShe’d now started to command the magic to change me… to make me forget. Even as she spoke, I could feel my memories fuzz, and in a panic, I asked the first thing that came to mind.\n\n“Cur latine loqui” – “Why are you speaking Latin”\n\nAnd she stopped speaking mid word. Eyes wide, she stared at me in horror.\n\n“You should not know the language of our people, you heathen!” she said, her voice pitched high and her hands dropping away from my head.\n\nWith her hands gone, and her spell incomplete, my mind cleared, and my first instinct was to issue a command of my own in Latin.\n\n“Me solum relinquatis” – or “Leave me alone.”\n\nGold essence seemed to issue forth with my words, and even as I spoke, she turned and left the room.\n\nLeaving me all alone.\n\n---\n\n[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/ft6vvp/verbum_magia_part_2)\n\nFor more by me and others check out r/RedditSerials", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,390	11,856	0.006247	827	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " One morning everyone in the world wakes up in their 18-year old body, memories intact. Society tries to continue as normal despite the change, but a world full of energetic adolescents certainly has its quirks.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I turned 18 yesterday.\n\nWait, hold on. With how things are now, I suppose that requires some clarification.\n\nI had my 18th birthday yesterday. I was 17 the day prior.\n\nNormal, yea? Well, I don't think that passes for normal these days.\n\nEvery day of the year, a select few of the Earth's population on that day turn 18. Yesterday, every single person in the world did just that. \n\nToddlers. Children. Teenagers. Adults. Middle-aged. Geriatrics. \n\nEvery one. 18.\n\nMy special day became everybody's special day. I'm not mad. Not at all.\n\nIt was interesting to see the news reports and social media explode, at least. \n\nShort videos of adults crawling and drooling on the floor, not realizing that their legs were now fully capable of supporting their own weight. Reports of diaper sales and milk powder crashing. Seeing young, fresh-faced adults hiding years of experience in their wide eyes, where in a world that turned back time, they had to carry on with what they had done for the decades prior.\n\nAnd me, an actual 18-year-old, stared at the screen of my phone, occasionally looking out of the window wistfully, letting the only thought that I could muster wander around my mind aimlessly.\n\nJust what the hell was I supposed to do now? \n\nFind a job, when another 18-year-old has a degree and two decades of working experience? Or be a baby, when there are literal families now stuck with an 18-year-old child that couldn't even feed, clothe, or go to the toilet themselves?\n\nI laid back on the bed, tossing my phone aside. I needed away from the madness for a while.\n\nWell, at least, my parents sounded pretty happy. Rediscovering your youth sounded like a pretty nice thing.\n\nBut what about me? A person that has yet to discover it?\n\nThere was nothing else to it, I guess.\n\nMy eyes opened, taking in the ceiling fan lazily rotating in circles, not quite realizing that the world didn't quite spin the same way round and round any more. I sighed, a weird combination of consolation and angst and not quite knowing what to do.\n\nStart somewhere. Everybody had to start somewhere. Gotta start being me.\n\nEven an actual 18-year-old. \n\n---\n\nr/dexdrafts", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,748	11,850	0.339851	1,660	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You have realized that your best friend is your son/daughter from the future who wants to hang out and get to know you since you die before he/she was born", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“Hey, can we talk?”\n\nI was standing out in the rain, outside my house, on the phone, while the love of my life played with my son. My son.\n\nJames sounded confused. “Right now, Mark? Aren’t you busy?”\n\n“Yeah,” I said, mouth dry. \n\n“Alright man,” James said, concern suffusing his voice. He realized I was upset. Hell, I hadn’t realized I was upset. That’s was the thing with best friends – they knew you better than you knew yourself. “I’m at my apartment, just come on over.”\n\nI frowned. “I thought you were busy?” I’d asked him yesterday to come see my kid, but he’d refused. Saying he was on some trip.\n\n“Look,” he said, and I could just imagine him running his hands through his hair in frustration, “now I’m not busy. You gonna come or not?”\n\nI looked at my house one last time and got into the car.\n\n**\n\nJames opened the door with a frown on his face. \n\n“Jesus Christ, man, you’re drenched,” he said. “Hold here.” He disappeared then came back with a towel for me. \n\nI rubbed my face in it, feeling each small strand prick at me, caress my skin. \n\n“You alright?” James asked. “Did…did something happen with m– the kid?”\n\nI let the towel fall. Even now I couldn’t escape. So far away from him, and now even James brought him up. \n\n“No,” I snarled. “Nothing happened with my fucking kid.”\n\nJames flinched, taken aback and held up his hands. “Look, chill man, what the hell is wrong?” With that he ushered me inside. I practically flopped down on one of his easy chairs, and James sat across from me. “Just talk to me,” he said, his voice soft.\n\nI held my head in my hands. “Look, I – I don’t think I can do it.”\n\nJames went still. “What thing?” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. \n\n“This whole father thing!” I bit off the words. “Look, I love Laura, that’ll never change, but I just want…her, you know? I don’t want some, someone else there. Some shackle.”\n\nJames looked at me, something hard in his gaze. An understanding. “And you’re talking about this now? That seems like a conversation to have much, much earlier with M- Laura.”\n\n“I–,” I sighed. “It just didn’t become real until he was born you know? It was easy to say, oh yeah I’ll deal with it when it comes, but it’s here.* I have to deal with it.”\n\n“And you don’t want to.”\n\nI didn’t say anything. There was no need. \n\n“So what’s the plan?” He said, his voice rising. “Just leave Laura? Forget it all? Vanish?”\n\nI looked at him helplessly. “Maybe? I don’t know, man, I just know I can’t stay with that-”\n\nSuddenly I was against a wall and James had me by the collar. I stared at him, eyes wide. Never in all the time I’d known him, the last 5 years or so, had I ever seen him angry. “James?”\n\n“My dad died. I never knew him.”\n\nI blinked. He’d never talked about his family before. Ever. Or even friends…in fact, I don’t think he had any other connections other than me. No one I’d ever seen him talk to in person or on the phone. Never had any stories. Nothing. \n\nThe only thing that came out of my mouth though was: “I’m sorry.”\n\nHe clutched my collar tighter. “And you’re gong to do it anyways.”\n\nI shoved him off, anger rising like bile in my throat. “Look man, it’s my life. I choose what I do. I can leave if I damn well want to!”\n \n“You’re fucking disgusting,” he spat. “You’re not man enough to face your own wife and kid, so you come here not even realizing–”\n\nI shoved him again. I’d had just enough of this. I wanted an ear, not someone to yell at me about what a monster I was. “Realize what huh?”\n\n“That I’m your fucking son!”\n\nI froze. \n\n“You know what I’d thought, dad,” he sneered. Putting more venom in that word than most did in the most disgusting curse. “Mom had told me you’d died. No one found the body. So I came back. To see you. To Meet you. To get to know the man who made me, the man I never knew.”\n\n“Bullshit,” I said without any real conviction. I might have denied him. Ignored the signs, the similarity in our looks, our builds. But I’d just seen my son, felt his hand clutch my finger, and some part of me, some part that was a father got that. Understood. James was my son. I believed that without a hint of doubt. “H-how?” \n\n“It doesn’t matter,” he said, his eyes ablaze. \n\n“James, son–”\n\n“Don’t fucking call me that,” he snarled. “I thought you’d have some accident, not that you’d leave.”\n\n“I,” I wrung my hands. “I can’t stay man!”\n\nJames regarded me with cool eyes, then walked to me. I braced myself for a hit, but he just went past me and locked the door. He turned back to me, eyes filled with a sort of crazy anger. \n\n“They never will find your body, Dad.” \n***\n(minor edits) \n\nIf you enjoyed, check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
872	11,833	0.373517	901	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " When humans die, their ghosts are anchored to the place of their death, but are unaffected by planetary orbit or rotation, left behind as Earth and the galaxy rotate. Metaphysical archaeologists are tracking this trail of spirits across the stars, seeking the ghost of the first human.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The first. What it must have been like. The first to ever experience sapience, to have your eyes opened to a world unending. Infinite expanse, at your finger tips, that could only feel all too small and lonely as you struggle to fit in to a planet that has its eye's closed.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nThis tethers me to a reality I long, long left behind. Abstract thoughts only I understand float in this abyss with me as I search for the first, someone who might know me. This world is larger than even I could know, my only solace a single dot that won't stop fading, travelling along the only path left: away.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nThe first moments blurred into obscurity as the only home I ever had evaporated in the time it took for me to even begin to blink. Arrays of colors and scale that shouldn't be possible had no time to stop for me, an awkward observer, as they hurried on to their destination, away from me. Always away from me. Still, I travel towards the first. They will have answers. Then, I'll be home again.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nIf by hatred, or determination, I do not know my exact reason, I went the other way. My only choice left in this world was to chase a home that long since abandoned me, or spite its eviction, and make my own path. So I searched for the first, one who came before me. For there must be a first. How long I've searched even I could not know.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nI near what must be the end of my journey. A great light approaches me, the first no doubt. For what is also a first of my own, in what must be as many days as there are dots, emotions flood my being. But as fast as they fill me, they also turn cold, and hollow. The light, finally reaching me, flies by as fast as my home. Piercing through me in its sick humor as it cares just as little that the first light - my light - did. Just as quick, it mockingly runs from me too.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nIn the lingering cold I am left in, it feels as if I am home. Alien to even my own kind, realizing what they never could, a sense of self. And it is this that brings me to another realization. I will never find the first, or even another of my kind. I have gone the wrong way. I thought it couldn't be possible, there must have been another. But I see now.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nI am the first.\n\n&#x200B;\n\n&#x200B;", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,949	11,813	0.115593	770	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You stole 10$ from some guys bank and now he's coming after you with everything he's got.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "It was just $10.00 and after all, I was hungry. Who would even notice? Who would even care? Turns out I had found the one guy who pored over every facet of his finances and like a dog with a bone, just wouldn't let this go. This was ridiculous.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nA little over a week had passed since I had found his debit card, with his PIN number so idiotically scribbled on the back, just lying there numbers up in the grass by the sidewalk. I never expected it would work. I walked over to the ATM a block up the road and inserted the card, and typed in the PIN. I checked the account balance. $86,400.00 exactly. This guy was rolling in it. There's no way he would miss just $10.00 so I made my withdrawal, and then stuck the card in the envelope deposit slot as a little good deed.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nFast forward to today. I have shut down my Facebook account, Twitter and Instagram too. This guy just kept coming. He had used a bunch of his remaining $86,390.00 on private detectives to run my fingerprints from his card, and video from the ATM. Now he was trying to use my social media accounts to track me down. I'm terrified of what will happen if he actually catches me. Will he kill me? This guy's clearly insane.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nI see a shadow moving up the sidewalk towards where I am sitting on a bench using a restaurant WiFi. The shape is clearly avoiding stepping into the intermittent pools of light. I can't run anymore. It's just one guy, I can take him.\nHe approaches, \"Did you take $10.00 out of my account?\" he asked menacingly. \"Yes, I did. I was hungry, and I felt like it was a reasonable reward for returning your carelessly lost debit card.\", I replied. \"Oh. I hadn't thought about it that way. I suppose you're right. I really wish I hadn't spent the rest of my $86,390 trying to get revenge.\" Then his head and shoulders drooped slightly, and with an air of defeat, he turned around and left.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
5,650	11,808	0.033908	1,296	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You've been living alone for 13 years. Whenever you come home from work, you always find your bed made, dinner cooked and a message with \"This could have been us.\" You moved out several times. This keeps going on.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "There it is again, that pang of guilt as I push the door open to my tiny apartment, the smell of a nice home cooked meal hits my nostrils but my stomach churns as I step inside kicking the door closed behind me. Standing in the entry way I know the apartment is empty as I take off my coat and set my things down from the day. \n\nIt's almost like she's still here... I find myself thinking with eyes darting back and forth across the recently straightened up home. There's no need to look down the hall to see my bed is made; it's always made. \n\nSwallowing hard and with a shaky exhale I find my seat at the table. I don't want to look at the table though. I don't want to see her note. \n\nWhy is still she still doing this? Again the guilt rises within me I don't deserve this... I can already feel my eyes starting to burn. I force them to look down at the table seeing the plate that has been prepared for me. It's nothing special. Some mashed potatoes, meatloaf, and peas. She always knows just what to make. \n\nI look just past the plate and see it; the note. I don't have to read it to know what it says. Every time it's the same message and every time I try to figure out exactly what it means. \n\nReaching out I pick up the small hand written note but I don't read it yet. I simply hold it in my hand for a few moments. Maybe tonight it'll be different. I find myself hoping as I unfold the note and read those same five words.\n\nThis could have been us.\n\nImmediately I push away from the table causing my glass to topple over and spill all across the table. Liquid splatters against the carpet but it doesn't matter. A chill runs down my spine. I can feel her eyes on me at that moment, watching me, judging me. \n\nSpinning around I already know right where she is, it's always the same spot. Our eyes meet and I find I can't breathe as if the air had been sucked completely out of the room. Tears begin to fill my eyes as I look back at the table and then to her eyes once again. \n\nI stand in silence for over a minute before I find my voice \"I don't deserve this.\" It's all I can muster after 13 years of this, it's the only thing I feel that's true anymore. \"Please... I can't keep doing this... You can't keep doing this.\" I take a step closer towards my desk and pick up the framed picture of her.\n\nIt was taken before she got sick, back when she thought she was still pretty enough for me and didn't try to convince me to stop wasting my time with her. Truth is she was always the most amazing person to me and I only grew to love her more every day. \n\nWe had met nearly 14 years prior and it just clicked. Everything about us felt perfect and within days I knew I would marry her and we'd spend the rest of our lives together. \n\nBut we didn't marry. Soon after I met her she became ill and just never got better, only worse. Cancer. Terminal. Neither of us expected it but that's the hand life had dealt us. Given the progression of the tumor in her brain the doctors didn't think she had long. When I asked her to marry me, to spend whatever time she had left with me she refused.\n\nShe didn't want to put me through that. To watch my wife wither away and die from something that couldn't be stopped. She said it wasn't fair to me and wanted me to meet someone else, to move on with my life, and be happy.\n\nAll I wanted was her.\n\nNear the end we'd talk about the life we could have had if we had met each other sooner, if cancer wasn't part of the equation, if she hadn't been so stubborn at first. This was something she wanted to do for me, to take care of me and show some love and appreciation at the end of the day. She wanted to be there for me and she knew she couldn't be while she was sick. \n\nAnd now 13 years after her death this is what she does. Somehow she manages to make sure every day I come home to a cooked meal and a taken care of home. No matter where I move to, no matter what I do, she finds a way.\n\nI don't deserve this.\n\nEdit: Spelling", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,806	11,802	0.127525	1,188	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " When people die, they get to watch a 1 hour movie, presenting the next 100 years, to see what they are going to miss. They die without being able to tell anyone about it. You just watched that movie, and wake up to your SO shouting \"Are you OK?\"", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The oncoming car's brakes squealed. I knew I couldn't make it, yet in that split second I knew I would do what I could to save what was important to me, my wife. Then the glare of the carlights and the honking of the horn robbed me of anyother last impressions. \n\nAfter pushing my wife away from me and the oncoming car, I didn't expect to find myself in a translucent rundown theater. The fact that I was tied down to a ratty chair didn't help to calm me anyway.\nThen a movie started running, in the way those black & white films were shown, where you can hear the projector running. It lasted an hour. Too much info. Too fast, too soon. While watching the movie, I was also processing the movie. And I'm sure I missed a key detail or two.\nWith the timing of my death, I'd managed to miss the rising of what people would call, the antichrist or The Enemy. His most striking feature was that his shadow would sometimes be missing or act independantly. A quick rise to power by a charismatic and very driven person, followed by calls to defend themselves proactively by neighbouring countries. Accounts were (or would be) distorted about who was actually to blame. Conspiracies by greedy people on both sides certainly didn't help. It would be the start of a half century of wars and catastrophe\n\nAt first people would call it, with the necessary snark, the long awaited World War Three. But as the years dragged on, the original reasons were lost. Instead of calling it war, later generations would call it The Disaster. In the end the charismatic, but much reviled leader still lived with those under his protection, having built a sanctuary somewhere which was said to be a Utopia of Pre-disaster tech, and filled with green plants. But others would be kept out, and forced to wander the wastes of what was left of the World. And so in the following part of that 100 years, he would still be called The Enemy. One of the final details that stuck out was that a group had been hoarding old technology, trying to build a time machine to stop the Enemy.\n\nIt's amazing how many details they manage to cram in that rapidfire accounting of that coming century. Thankfully being dead means you can't puke anymore from dizziness.\n\nThen the chair collapsed underneath me. A jarring headache told me I hit the ground with my head. As I was slowly trying to roll around, I was still tied down. Only now I was lying flat. Pain. Hitting your head isn't supposed to hurt this much, so I continued struggling. Then I could vaguely make out. \"Honey, can you hear me? Please hold still, the Ambulance is bringing you to the hospital. You're tied down to stop you from hurting yourself. Please, stay awake.\"\n\nWith much effort I opened my left eye slightly and the light of the ambulance nearly blinded me. I could vaguely make out the telltale shape of my wife's hair. I tried to speak, but only a groan would come out. My wife noticed a heaved a sob of relief. \"You'll be able to make it, honey.\"\n\nLaying there, tied down, I could only wallow in my pain. I thought, \"Was it just a dream, hallucination?\". I couldn't be sure. But I vowed that I would protect my wife however I would be able to from what was coming.\n\nI was slowly sinking away into sleep, contrary to my wife's calls. Then I struggled to hear a whisper, \"This was only the first attempt. They'll try again.\"\n\n\nSarah looked down at her husband, frazzled and panicked by everything that had happened. She hoped that he would make it, she'd never forgive herself if he died, especially after saving her. Behind her, her shadow rippled in tune with her emotions.\n\n---------------------------------------\nhttps://www.reddit.com/r/TrabianTellsTales/", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,154	11,796	0.172975	2,287	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " A pair of twins are cursed with immortality causing them to grow younger or older depending on their proximity to each other. One yearns for death, desperately seeking to get as far from their sibling as possible in the hope they will die of old age. The other does not, and pursues vigorously.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Three thousand miles.\n\nThat was how far I had to get, by my calculations. Beyond three thousand miles, I might be old enough to actually die. It was a long way to go.\n\nAt the moment, I was in the airport, my ticket crumpled tightly in my hand. I was middle-aged; I could feel the lines on my face, feel the scraggle of my slightly greying beard. It meant that Vivian was at least fifty miles away from me, which would be great, except that my flight had been cancelled and now I was stuck waiting for another hour to fly out. I tapped my foot impatiently.\n\nAs the time passed, I could feel myself getting younger. It wasn't a rapid change, and it wasn't consistent, but she was using her own age to gauge what direction I was in. It wouldn't take her long to find me.\n\nBy the time my new flight was boarding, I must have been in my twenties. A few trips to the bathroom and a change of clothes had helped to disguise things, but I was seriously relying on apathy from the other passengers to not attract attention. It was less than ideal.\n\nI didn't have the resources that she did. She would be speeding along toward me in a fast car, with her bodyguards close at hand. I had a rolling suitcase with a bum wheel, and I'd had to steal that on the way in. I hadn't gotten even this far in years, and I didn't want to fail now.\n\nI could still feel the damp air of the storage shed where she'd kept me. I could still remember the dark, the cold, the bugs. I could still remember how thin I'd gotten, to the point where I was counting my ribs through my skin.\n\nShe'd swing by every week or so, knock us both back down to our pre-teens. It kept her healthy, reversing any particularly stubborn fat she'd gained or illnesses she'd picked up. More importantly, it meant I didn't need to eat, and that any particularly grevious injuries would be healed.\n\nI had used that last bit to my advantage. Have you ever chewed off your own arm before? Because I have. Twice. It got me free of my chains, and I only had to endure it until she came by again and turned back my clock.\n\nIt had still been a long time. Maybe she decided to skip a week. I'm not ashamed to say that I filled my belly with my own severed flesh. Starvation is a powerful force, and in the end, it was my own bones that provided the leverage I had needed to bust the lock.\n\nAnd now, I was here. Shuffling forward in the slowest boarding line in history, trying not to let people notice that my facial hair was disappearing and that I was breaking out in pimples.\n\nI was two people away from the front of the line when Gordon appeared. Her current husband-slash-bodyguard. I spotted him before he spotted me; he was powerwalking between terminals, glancing over the people at each one. I flipped up my hood, tucking my hands into the pocket of my sweatshirt and looking down. Inconspicuous, hopefully.\n\nNo doubt he was here because she couldn't be. If she got too much closer, we'd both be children. Not great in terms of agency, but she'd do it if she was deperate enough.\n\nI reached the front of the line, glancing up only to flash my ticket at the attendant. She gave me a bright smile back.\n\n\"Hey, hon! First time flying alone? Don't worry, we're here to help you through it.\"\n\nShe sounded genuinely cheery, but that didn't change the fact that she was talking to me like I was a thirteen years old. Probably because, at the moment, I was a thirteen years old.\n\nAnd that was where my luck ran out. A heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder, holding me back. I twisted away, but he had a full foot and at least a hundrred and fifty pounds on me. Gordon.\n\n\"Ah, Victor. There you are. You had your sister and me worried, running off like that. How did you even get here?\" He turned to the attendant, apologetic. \"I'm sorry miss, but I think there's been some mistake. My son here is definitely not supposed to be on this flight.\"\n\nI tried to twist away again, calling out as I wrestled against his grip. \"He's not my dad! Someone, help me! Heeeelp! I'm being kidnapped!\"\n\nThe attendant took a half-step forward, clearly conflicted. She reached for a walkie-talkie, stammering into it. \"S-security! I need you at terminal 6, now!\" She held up her hands, trying her best to break us up. \"Calm down, please. Let's talk this out, there's no need to--\"\n\nAs she moved in, Gordon's grip faltered, and I made a break for it. I was off like a flash, all the speed of my youth restored to me. I zipped through the terminal, grabbing luggage and tossing it behind me as I went. I could hear Gordon shouting after me, and behind him, the attendant yelling something urgent into her walkie.\n\nI didn't have long, but I did have a plan.\n\nI saw my target and I ran with it. A stroller, held loosely by a woman who was distracted as she talked on her phone. I slammed into her, grabbing the stroller and rolling it along at a break-neck pace. I was around the corner before she even knew what had happened.\n\nI looked down at my catch. A baby girl. Damn. I slowed for just a moment to scoop the sleeping child out of the stroller, placing her out of the way behind a trash can. She stayed asleep. Sorry, baby.\n\nI was approaching seven or eight years old, and that meant I was getting close. I speed around another corner with the empty stroller, and I saw her.\n\nShe looked like a toddler playing dress-up in her mother's clothes, a once flattering dress now draped around her, feet in shoes three times the size of her feet. She saw me as I saw her, and drew in a deep breath, pointing an accusatory finger at me.\n\n\"I'm telll-ing!\"\n\nI could feel my mind receding as I hurtled toward her. I ran and ran, and my legs hurt, and then I let the bar above me go and the rolling thing shot forward, and I think it hit the girl who I'd saw standing in the funny dress.\n\nThere was a lot of scary sounds and blurry shapes. I missed mommy, but I felt like I couldn't cry. Not right now. It was important that I not cry, even if I really, really wanted to. I crawled off to my hidey hole, and I sucked on my thumb, tears streaming down my cheeks.\n\nWhen I began to regain my full mental capacities, it was to the sound of a woman shrieking in the distance. I peeked out from where I'd crawled behind a vending machine to see her swatting away a crowd of security guards around her.\n\n\"Stay away from my baby! What have you done to her, where's that teenager? I need to speak to a manager, NOW!\"\n\nI grinned, and quickly got out from behind the machine before I grew too large. I ducked down the hallway until I found where my clothes had fallen, and I quickly pulled them back on. As I passed, I checked on the baby I'd left behind the trash can. Still sleeping like, well, a baby.\n\nWith every security guard swarming the woman and her rapidly growing baby, it was easy enough to slip back to my flight, and in another few minutes I was on board, teenaged again. I still didn't let myself relax until the plane began to pull away from the gate and the captain's voice crackled over the loudspeaker.\n\n\"Ladies and gentlemen, this is flight oh-twelve-seven from New York to London. Please fasten your seatbelts, we'll be beginning the flight shortly. Hope you like the person sitting next to you, because you're gonna be sitting next to them for a while, heh.\"\n\nHe crackled out, and I allowed myself a smile. I could already feel myself getting older as we pulled away. It would slow down the further I went, but I was going a long ways.\n\nFinally, I was ready to die.\n\n---------\n\nThank you for reading! If you liked this story, you can follow my profile to be notified when I post short stories, or check out my website, [The Sylvan Prophetiae!](https://orrensdeck.wordpress.com)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,721	11,763	0.015565	1,348	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You are an ice dragon who has been asleep for thousands of years. You are awakened by a group of tiny humans who promise you an unfathomable amount of wealth. They call themselves \"Microsoft\" and ask that allow them to move a large number black boxes into the unnatural chill of your lair.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "There was a buzz of excitement in the dragon's lair. A large number of humans dressed in puffy white jackets and thick black trousers were gathered around the sleeping dragon. A man in an orange suit, wearing a helmet, and protective goggles, used a long metal rod to poke the silver dragon.\n\nThe dragon stirred. Its tail swished from side to side, and the humans surrounding it moved accordingly. The orange-suited man poked the dragon again. This time, the dragon opened its eyes and rose to its full height.\n\nThe dragon was large, and its body glittered in the lights the humans had set up. The dragon's terrible red eyes met the orange-suited man's gaze.\n\n\"Who are you, and why have you awakened me?\" it growled.\n\n\"We are, dear dragon, the representatives of Microsoft,\" said the orange-suited man.\n\n\"Microsoft? What of it? Have you come to kill me and take my wealth like those men of yore? If so, then let me warn you, nothing goes past me, nothing. I am the king of ice and snow, and I will freeze you to death if you do such a thing.\"\n\n\"Dear dragon, the king of ice and snow, you misunderstand us. We aren't here to take your gold or whatever treasures you possess. On the contrary, we are here to offer you wealth.\"\n\nThe dragon laughed. And in doing so, a thick fog escaped its mouth.\n\n\"You will offer wealth, to me?\" it said. \"What wealth can you possibly offer, puny human? Here I have treasures from times you do not even know of. What wealth can there be that I do not have? Remember, all your currencies are just legal exchanges of gold. And I have plenty of gold, more than you could ever even dream of. So tell me, you puny humans, why shall I not punish you for your impudence?\"\n\n\"Dear dragon, there is one thing I would like to ask you if you don't mind?\"\n\n\"Go on. But remember that I will allow only this one question.\"\n\n\"One question would be enough, sir. So, here goes, how long have you been asleep?\"\n\nThe dragon cocked his head to one side and thought for a while.\n\n\"I suppose it has been about fifty years now.\"\n\n\"Okay, sir. Then let me tell you how the world has changed in these years. There now exist things more valuable than money, more desirable, more precious.\"\n\n\"More precious than jewels and gold? More precious than ancient scrolls?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. More precious than anything.\"\n\n\"What is it? What is there more precious than my treasures?\"\n\n\"Information, sir. All of humanity is dying for it. People are afraid that their information might be taken from them, and still, others are bidding like lunatics for it.\"\n\n\"And you say you can give me that? What for? Do you not value it enough? Why you say it is so very precious and then you give it to me without any struggle?\"\n\n\"Consider it, kind sir, as a token of our gratitude, for we know you haven't raided human dwellings for a long time. It is our gift to you.\"\n\n\"Gifts? From humans? As if I were to accept something like that.\"\n\n\"I insist, sir,\" said the orange-suited man, and the dragon lay down again.\n\n\"Very well then, if you wish to squander your treasures like this, I shall not stop you. As it is, you've woken me up a hundred years too early. Your gifts would be considered an appropriate token of apology.\"\n\nThe orange-suited man bowed, and so did the others who surrounded the dragon.\n\nOne by one, the men left the lair, went up to a ship and hauled big hauls of black boxes, one by one, using forklifts. Then they produced a wireline that they connected to the ship, which was to be moored there permanently.\n\nSystematically, they assembled the boxes and connected them to the wireline. The boxes then buzzed and hummed in the dragon's lair. They were heating, so the great dragon of ice and snow put a cooling charm over them. The fans stopped whirring, and the dragon looked pleased with his new treasures.\n\n\"We apologise again, sir, for our interference,\" the orange-suited man said, and bowed, as did all his troops.\n\nThe dragon raised its head, sniffed, and turned to sleep. The men rejoiced, and left the lair, they used a fleet of motorboats moored alongside the ships and drove away. Inside the dragon's lair, the lights on the black boxes flickered but no buzz escaped the machines.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
5,028	11,760	0.039636	506	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": "Karma.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "You look at Death, standing tall in robes so blindingly white they hurt your eyes, and look back at the golden scythe. It's easy to imagine how you'd use it. The way every harsh word and selfish action would rebound back upon those who deserved it.\n\nBut...\n\nYou look at Death and shake your head with a small little smile. \"It's okay. I don't want to harm anyone. They're the ones that were hurting most.\"\n\nDeath smiles. Well, not really. You're not sure if there's actually anything under those robes. Their presence seems pleased though.\n\nYou feel a hand (or maybe just a breeze) on your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes.\n\nSuch a good, gentle child.\n\nThe words aren't spoken but you hear them anyway. They scythe in Death's hands fades from beautiful, shining gold until it's just a plain and worn old thing, the wooden staff smoothed by years of handling. The white robes deepen to a black that wraps around your mind like a comforting embrace.\n\nYou feel the smile again and Death presses the scythe into your hands, surprising you with its warmth.\n\nGood, gentle child. You'll do.\n\nThe cloak falls over your shoulders and Death is gone.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,747	11,758	0.037682	1,485	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You and your wife decided to raise your daughter on a farm away from flawed modern society, and tell her that you're the only people on earth. When she turns 18, you tell her that it's time to know the truth. You take her to the city and find that there really are no people left.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Isabella was always gifted. We knew that from the day she was born and I held her in my arms.\n\nWe had to protect her, covet her from the cruel world that would bite at her. Its rough edges like rusted metal that would tear jarring wounds.\n\nIt was safe within our farm. We toiled and did our work, secluded from the rest of the world. Surrounded for miles on end only by gravel and rocks. It was lonely, sure, but we were safe. My dear Isabella was safe.\n\nShe didn't know what it meant to have friends, I would see her playing with the animals instead. Chasing the chickens like some cute goliath. I would scold her for rummaging around with the pigs. Her adorable giggles contrasting their oinks. I found it hard to stay mad at her. I found it hard to pretend like I was upset. She seemed so happy.\n\n\"We have to tell her.\" The guilt that kept rising over the years gnawed away at my wife and me, aging us. How wrong we were. How foolish it was for us to think that we knew better. We weren't trying to protect Isabella, we were protecting ourselves. Acting out of our own desire to not see our daughter get hurt. But it was that protection that caused her to grow up to be a fine women and not understand what it meant to live. We deprived her of that.\n\n\"Honey, we need to show you something.\" Isabella mirrored our worried expressions. Our features weathered with age and the weight of our guilt causing our shoulders to slouch.\n\n\"Show me what?\" She asked.\n\n\"It's best if we just show you.\"\n\nWith the rising dawn, Isabella and I got into my truck and drove into the horizon. The sun was rising over the horizon to shine light upon my regret.\n\nEven then, I had second thoughts, I wanted to turn around and for us to stay secluded within our little world in the middle of nowhere, away from the cruel reality of life. Even I had avoided contact with humans for many years, joining my daughter in her cruel punishment.\n\nWould she hate us for depriving her of the truth? For keeping her away from the rest of humanity, caged in by bars made of our own lies and deceit? Or perhaps she would forgive us, and be opened to a world that wished to hurt her.\n\nNo -- I could no longer avoid this. I drove on, dust trailing behind us.\n\nThe roads lay empty and barren. The city that used to bustle with life was now just unnervingly quiet. It seemed wrong. A stillness that whispered of cold death.\n\n\"Where is everyone?\" I asked myself as the door to my truck closed shut.\n\n\"They don't exist, remember, dad? You told me that.\"\n\nI turned to Isabella, I had come this far. She had to know the truth one way or another. My lip quivered; perhaps I guided her all the way out here so I did not have to say I lied, that I didn't have to explain to my own daughter what had been done. But it seemed fitting that just as my lips sowed the lie into existence, they too would reap punishment.\n\n\"I lied, sweetheart. We aren't the last people on earth. We never were. We wanted to protect you from it all, from the cruelty.\"\n\nIsabella giggled, that same innocent giggle when she rolled with the pigs, oblivious of lives, just like how her coil-tailed friends were oblivious of their fate as food.\n\n\"I know.\" She said. She was not angry, she was not shocked. She just smiled, a knowing smile that spoke of her adventurous and affable self. She was being coy.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" I frowned.\n\n\"Daddy, I am not an idiot. I always knew that humans existed. I know a lot of things you don't seem to. I also knew why you hid them from me.\" She shook her head. \"I never needed protection, daddy, but I knew you were afraid of them. Afraid of humans. We didn't need them anyway. We have our little farm and we can just live there in our little world.\"\n\n\"Isabella. Dear. What are you saying?\"\n\nShe giggled. \"I made them disappear, daddy. We don't need anyone else, nobody will ever hurt you again. We can be happy.\"\n\nThe abandoned buildings that surrounded us now seemed lonely. Without purpose. Serving instead as tall tombstones for the whole of mankind. A sad and worthless legacy of our civilisation; a civilisation brought to an abrupt end before it could live out a full life.\n\nI realised then, that my innocent daughter was born with godly powers, the ability to bend reality to her will. And it was her naive and unknowing self that acted void of malice, but that unbridled desire to do good without understanding the consequences made her erase all of mankind in an instant.\n\nI created a monster.\n\n*\n\n/r/KikiWrites \n\n*\n\n[Part 2] (https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8gx9lu/wp_you_and_your_wife_decided_to_raise_your/dyflvd5/)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,399	11,758	0.104664	1,577	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " At age 21, you and your SO cast a strange love spell to swap bodies one day a week. 8 years later, your fiancee is really sick of you body swapping with your ex, but you don't know how to undo the spell.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The sun was filtering through the open window, August dawn filling the room with the scent of summer. Eve stirred in her sleep, clutching the pillow closer to her chest.\n\n'Angel,' Jack whispered, brushing away one stray lock from her forehead, 'you're dreaming.' He said, watching the first rays of light painting her hair in gold. Two more weeks and she'll become his wife.\n\nEve stilled, her blue eyes opening slowly.\n\nJack smiled at her, leaning in. \n\n'Keep that muzzle away from me,' Eve suddenly growled, jumping out of bed.\n\nJack frowned, watching her rummage through the closed like a tornado.\n\n'David?' Jack quickly sat up, looking at his fiancée tossing all of his clothes on the floor.\n\n'Where's the blue cotton shirt you had?' Eve asked, her soft voice now changed with a strong Boston accent.\n\n'Stop throwing my stuff on the floor!' Jack snapped.\n\nHe had never raised his voice at Eve but since every week there was one day when his angel swapped the body with this idiot David, Jack was slowly loosing his mind.\n\n'I can't believe a man of your age still has a band shirt in his closet.' Eve, or to be precise David, said pulling the shirt over his head. \n\n'Deep Purple is not just some band-' Jack was already in his defence mode, but David raised his hand.\n\n'Dude, whatever. I don't care.' David said and stormed out of the room. A few moments later Jack found him in the kitchen.\n\nEight years ago, when Eve was dating David a love spell went wrong and ever since that moment they started swapping bodies for one day a week. Every week.\n\n'Every damned week,' Jack grumbled, sitting down, grabbing the steaming mug that was waiting for him. \n\n'We're in Italy,' David grumbled. \n\nIt was hard for Jack to look at his beautiful fiancée staring daggers at him. It was even harder to keep away from throwing something at this idiot David.\n\n'The first vacation we had since forever and what am I doing?' David kept muttering in his mug. 'I'm spending it with this heavy-metal-loving-couch-potato.'\n\nJack rolled his eyes. 'Maybe you'd stop being such a little girl if you ate more carbs, buddy.'\n\nDavid tossed him a black look.\n\nSo they sat there, in absolute silence, Jack reading news on his tablet and David staring trough the window.\n\n'I can't believe you still haven't fixed the fence,' David suddenly turned to Jack.\n\n'Nope.' Jack kept swiping through the news.\n\n'And the glass-house doors are still very much unhinged as I can see.'\n\n'Very much.' Jack responded.\n\n'You said you were going to fix them last week.' David said bitterly.\n\nJack looked up. 'We have twenty two hours more to survive, David,' Jack said, 'save something for later.'\n\nDavid grabbed his cup, turning to stare through the window again.\n\nAfter some while even the world ran out of the news and after they watched a game of baseball there was little left to do.\n\n'So,' Jack said turning off the TV, 'have you found anything new?'\n\n'About the spell?' David asked. 'Granny knows some some people.'\n\nJack laughed. The way David spoke about his grandmother always sounded like she was some hard core gangster.\n\n'She says the spell can be broken but they need to do some more research.'\n\nJack sighed. He couldn't wait to get rid of him. \n\nIt was so strange. This was Eve's nose and her smile and her hands but David's mannerism and that accent instantly turned Jack's beloved to this ridiculously annoying person in his living room. Luckily, his resentment always disappeared the moment Eve was back.\n\n'I think it will be done in a week or so.' David said.\n\n'Oh, finally,' Jack raised his eyes to the heavens, when he heard a little grunt. 'I mean, no offence, but we won't miss each other.' Jack said.\n\n'I know I won't miss your ugly face,' David grinned.\n\n'So,' Jack said, 'what happened with that interview. Did you get the job?'\n\nDave was suddenly staring at him empty mug. \n\nJack nodded. 'Oh, so that's why you're so grumpy this morning.'\n\n'I'm not grumpy!' David snapped.\n\n'Easy!' Jack raised his voice. 'If you want my oppinion-'\n\n'Which I don't.'\n\n'I'll tell you that you have a better chance with that project of yours than sitting in a office from nine to five.'\n\nDavid said nothing.\n\n'It's a good project,' Jack insisted. 'I know at least four farm owners who would go for it.'\n\nDavid looked up. 'Seriously?'\n\n'Yeah,' Jack nodded, 'I'll call some people and give them your contact.'\n\n'Thanks buddy,' David said. There was a moment of awkward silence. But then again every silence between two of them was awkward. 'Wanna grab something to eat?'\n\nJack was already on his feet. 'But we're not going to that Asian restaurant again.'\n\nDavid stood before him with a disappointed look. 'Dude, this might be the last time we saw each other.\n\nJack wouldn't budge.\n\n'All right,' David said, 'but I'm driving. You're slower than my granny.'\n\nThanks for reading! If you liked this story, you can find more at r/CrystalElmTales", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,887	11,744	0.002329	1,615	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " A bard is kidnapped by orcs. At first the bard is terrified, however the orcs actually treat the bard with much more respect than any tavern full of drunks ever had. It seems the ability to sing and play instruments is extremely rare amongst orcs but even they love music.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "From mere sight, one would not think them to be musically interested or capable. Their giant burly hands rendering nearly all string instruments impossible to use, and any flutes are destroyed them holding onto them too tightly. This is one of the reasons why I was initially very frightened when they kept me alive after they'd attacked the caravan. I am a bard, not any kind of warrior. They dragged me back into their village and placed me in the center of the entire tribe. Imagine that, hundreds of enormous grey-skinned orcs staring at you in silence. I knew not what they intended, but I feared the worst. Until one of them handed me my lute.\n\nI figured that if I was going to go out, I might as well play my swansong. I adjusted the strings, and started to sing while playing. It start like this;\n\nLong have I trodden my path, oh how my feet do ache.\n\nThe darkness is close and from the wind I shake.\n\nShine, Wisp o' shine, show me the way, the treasure will be mine.\n\nOh how my feet do ache.\n\nNot my best composition honestly, but the Will O' Wisp's song was all I could remember at that moment in time. The orcs listened in silence. And when the song was over, I thought it was it. But one of them started to clap. Then another. Then the whole tribe was clapping like mad. It was impressive, how they reacted. Once they stopped, I figured I should play another song. So I played the Midsummer Ballad, which they reacted to with the same level of joy. After that they brought out food and drink, and partied. In the midst of their revelry I sang as many songs as I had ever learned, both my own and those that I had deemed that others had made and made well. I played and sang the Lay of the Nightingale and the One-Handed Hero. I played the eternal classic, Lilac and Gooseberries, following it with the Blue Moon Ballad, the bawdy epic of the Bear and the Maiden, and the sombre but beautiful tones of the Island Song.\n\nAnd the orcs, loved it. They did not ask for the same boring tunes about beer and women with enlarged backsides, not the same old village ''hoopas'' or the sort of songs where someone gets their privates stuck in some sort of animal, which is somehow supposed to be the epitome of comedy. Nobody threw a tankard of beer at me, and they did not make me pay for my own drinks or my own food. They gave it to me freely. Quite possibly the best crowd I've ever played for.\n\nAfter a night of partying, I managed to get one of the orcs to explain their enthusiasm for my music. Turns out that musical talent is not easy to cultivate in a culture when even your women's voices sound deep and menacingly ominous, and your hands are so big that the only instruments you could play were the drums. So they appreciated music, whenever they found it. So when that caravan I had been in had been raided, they'd taken the single most valuable things they could find, purebred horses, gold, silk, and a bard.\n\nThey offered me a place to stay, and since I had no idea where I was, I accepted. And every night, I played music for them. But I did not stop there. I had travelled a lot when I was younger, and in the distant north, where the ice and snow comes in the summer, there are a people who perfected a very peculiar sort of music. They called it, the Sound of Iron and Steel. One where angry drumming, and harsh angry voices, was not only liked, but very much in demand. And I had heard in the south, of music made by many people singing together, without instruments. And I had seen the singing Preachers of the Gospel Eternal, their voices could be as deep as the orcs too. The orcs were not good at traditional music, with honey-sweet voices, lutes, or flutes. But perhaps I could try to teach them a kind of music that they had never learned before.\n\nI started by teaching them all to keep a rhythm. Something for which they were quite grateful. I then had them keep a rhythmic beat going while I sang and played, so that they would become part of the music. So that they'd see that perhaps they could learn. Even if the lute, the harp, or the high-pitched voice would be beyond them, there were other ways to make sweet music.\n\nSo I spent years with the orcs. Playing for them, teaching them to sing, teaching them to scream music to the beat of heavy and angry drums. I lived with them, soon I dressed like them, helped them to parlay with humans and other races. I even scouted for them on their raids. Eventually, I even married Rastobrak, a large and handsome orcish warrior. He's so big, I barely even reach his stomach when we're standing side-by-side. In essence, I completely joined this orcish tribe, who loved my music, and loved hearing me play it. Even more, they loved that I was teaching them music that orcs could play. When they stole a huge magically enchanted octobass, I found that even they could use it. And soon, other orc tribes would come from all over the plains, to see the orcs who could play music. Who could sing in a choir, with deep menacing voices.\n\nOrcs are not normally capable of playing normal instruments, or singing the music most people like, those who have that gift are prised above gold. But there are many kinds of music, many different kinds. All of them are valid, and good. And if one cannot be a Soprano or a Countertenor, one can be a Contralto or a Basso Profondo.\n\n[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,930	11,729	0.052156	1,692	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You die in your girlfriends arms after saving her from a careless driver. Suddenly you wake up in your bed, completely healed and your clothes fixed. You look over and see death sitting at your desk. “Okay hear me out,” it says. “I’ve been playing this video game, and I wanna try something...”", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "[Part Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/85bpul/wp_you_die_in_your_girlfriends_arms_after_saving/dvwgk4g/) \| [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/shoringupfragments/comments/85e7ct/9_levels_of_hell_part_3/) \| [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/shoringupfragments/comments/85jvbu/9_levels_of_hell_part_4/)\n**\nClint had expected to wake up to death. But not quite like this.\n\nHe remembered everything. It played over and over in that infinite darkness that overtook him: the car, burning; Rachel, screaming; the hot waves of his own blood pouring down his neck.\n\nBut she had lived. He had gotten her out of that car, used both his hands to squeeze the sputtering wound of her thigh shut until he he heard the wail of ambulances.\n\nAnd then Clint collapsed. He remembered realizing, as he stared at the wet pavement, he would never get up again.\n\nBut when Clint opened his eyes, he saw his own bedroom ceiling. He reached up, and the gash on the side of his head was gone. He was still wearing his old Arctic Monkeys hoodie, which had been soaked in his and Rachel's blood.\n\n\"What the hell,\" Clint muttered. He sat up, stared across his room. And shrieked.\n\nA man in a crisp black suit sat at Clint's desk. He held a phone that seemed to be all glass, yet it gleamed brightly in the man's hands.\n\n\"Oh,\" he said. \"You're awake.\"\n\nClint stared around in confusion and mounting horror. \"Why are you in my house?\" he managed. Easiest of the questions he could ask.\n\n\"Better question is why are you* in your house?\" \n\n\"Uh. I live here?\"\n\n\"I can't believe you forgot what happened yesterday.\" The man finally pocketed his phone. \"Sorry. Work never rests.\"\n\nClint clutched at his hoodie. The blood that should have been there. \"What's happening?\"\n\n\"You may call me Death.\" The man spread his thin boney fingers. \"You may have heard of me. We met, yesterday. I'm the one who picked you up off the road.\"\n\n\"Then how am I alive?\"\n\n\"Oh, you're not.\" Death smoothed the lapels of his suit and stood to look out the window. \"This is a new sort of in between I've devised.\" He smiled over his shoulder at Clint. \"I've been trying these things called video games, you see.\"\n\nClint couldn't help his laugh. All this was too absurd, too insane. \"Can you please get out of my house before I call the police?\"\n\nDeath turned to him and scowled. \"This is not your home, Clint Whitaker. This is one of the unused levels of hell. And you are part of my new experiment.\"\n\nShock and disbelief warred in Clint's mind. He shook his head and insisted, \"That's insane. That's not possible.\"\n\n\"You remember dying yesterday, don't you?\"\n\nClint nodded.\n\n\"Surely resurrection is more unlikely than death.\"\n\n\"This isn't what I imagined death would look like.\"\n\n\"Oh, no one ever imagines death quite right.\" The man walked to Clint's bedside and smirked down at him. \"But you and I are going to play a little game. We're going to see if you can get to the castle and rescue the princess.\"\n\nHe offered his phone to Clint.\n\nClint reached out a shuddering hand and took it. On the screen, he saw a hospital room. And unmistakably in the bed lay Rachel in a sea of tubes and wires.\n\n\"You kept her alive when you died, true.\" Death's smile was wicked and delighted. \"But you haven't saved her from me yet.\"\n\n\"Are you fucking crazy? You'd kill her just as part of some stupid game?\"\n\n\"Yes. I'd also save her as part of some stupid game.\" Death walked to the door. \"It's your choice, of course. But if you do nothing, know she will die.\"\n\n\"But what am I supposed to do?\"\n\n\"Escape hell. Find where I've hidden her.\" Death grinned. \"Think of yourself like a modern Orpheus in reverse. If you don't keep looking for your girl, she's gone for good. And so are you.\"\n\nClint scrambled out of bed and yelled at him, \"Why the fuck are you doing this to us?\"\n\nDeath smiled again. \"It's quite simple. You're interesting, and I'm bored.\"\n\nAnd then he walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.\n\nWhen Clint tried to follow, Death was already gone.\n\n*** \n\n/r/shoringupfragments\n\n[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/85bpul/wp_you_die_in_your_girlfriends_arms_after_saving/dvwgk4g/) \| [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/shoringupfragments/comments/85e7ct/9_levels_of_hell_part_3/) \| [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/shoringupfragments/comments/85jvbu/9_levels_of_hell_part_4/)\n\nIf you want to stay up to date, make sure to follow my sub. I'm going to post all of this over there, and it's almost definitely going to be novella-length. I think.\n\nETA: It's up to part 28 and going strong! So if you like serial novels... read mine, lol", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,933	11,712	0.015057	1,035	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " When you reach the age of 21, you are given a check from the government. The check has been carefully calculated and is worth the minimum amount of money you need for the rest of your life. Your check came in the mail today and it was $7.27", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "You'd think there'd be better uses for that kind of precognition, but apparently the Psychic Currents of the Universe or whatever only reveal themselves in certain oblique ways. Also, you know, bureaucrats. I don't know which of them first had the bright idea to handle Guaranteed Minimum Income this way, or decided it was a good idea to give that kind of lump sum to 21-year-olds, but apparently one of them got enough time with a government psychic to test it out.\n\nAs you can imagine, it's caused some problems.\n\nThere are all kinds of ways laid out online to calculate remaining lifespan by the payment sum, but of course they're all just guesses. The amount's all the psychics can give us, not years, not health, nothing. Just so many dollars and a pat on the butt. God, or whatever weird persnickety divine official runs the whole mess, only knows. The other things the psychics—the real ones, I mean, not the kind who incessantly advertise on TV—can tell us are just as randomly semi-useful. I won't get into that, but I will say it's jacked the anxiety of an entire society into even more stratospheric heights than things like social media already had.\n\nAnd it's not like they're accurate 100% of the time, at least not on longish timelines. Sometimes things shift, because the Powers that Be really do seem to be playing dice in some back room, and the psychics know the odds but not the outcome, you know? At least that's my understanding, and no one has a very good understanding anyway, least of all the psychics themselves, they just think on things and get stuff like numbers back.\n\nBut that probably doesn't matter anymore. I mean it will, until just after lunch. Because that's what the amount was for, my favorite cheap lunch from my favorite taco stand. One carne asada, one adobo pork, a nice little churro for dessert. $7.27, every time, I have a box at home full of the receipts.\n\nSo of course I bought it again, just one last time.\n\nA lot of people turn 21 on a given day, and one Hell of a lot of them post their checks on social media. It didn't take long for us all to compare notes and figure it out. Some people got more, a few less, but almost all of them recognized the amount.\n\nLunch. Just one. Guess fate took a pretty hard right turn today. This many people, all at once, with a consistent and personalized number? That's a pretty sure thing, an undeniable shift in the odds to from long-shot to almost-certain.\n\nWho knows what it's going to be. Asteroid with a low albedo we just didn't see coming? Maybe the Yellowstone Caldera going off? Nuclear war? Alien invasion?\n\nNot worth worrying about. I mean, that won't stop any of us, won't stop the whole world. A lot of people are still hoping it's a prank. I don't think so. I have a feeling, a little itch at the back of my brain.\n\nI'm gonna have to really enjoy these tacos.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nr/Magleby for more elaborate lies.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,254	11,709	0.047975	1,951	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You are a B-list superhero on the verge of losing your job. During a battle with a villain, you accidentally end up killing one of the most prolific superheros of your time. That's when you realize that with your niché power that was useless as a hero, you could be an A-list supervillain.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Tallow sighed as he balled up the few hairs and held them over his candle, letting the flames barely lick the edges before burning down the lengths like slow fuses. The ashes settled in the watery wax, blurring them opaque before glowing weakly.\n\n\"Can you tell where she is?\" Roman asked, hunched over as Tallow worked. \"She scratched me up pretty good and I'm ready for round two.\"\n\n\"There's not enough to be certain.\" Tallow strained to read the magic flowing into him from the candle. The Villain Avarice had retreated south and was hungry for gold. Neither of those was a great revelation, so he kept them to himself.\n\n\"Does it have to be hair? Can you use blood?\" Roman asked casually, picking off dried flakes from his shield, covered in the stuff now that it was normal-sized again.\n\n\"That's kind of gross but I've never tried. Maybe.\" Tallow wrinkled his nose in distaste. \"Let me try and find a bag or something.\"\n\n\"You'll never grow your power if you don't experiment, Tee,\" Roman offered, making a small pile of the blood flakes on the table. \"Before I found my shield, I was using a shovel. I called myself DigBig, did you know that?\"\n\n\"Wow, the strongest hero in the city used to be a shovel knight? What did you do, make traps?\"\n\n\"Not really different from now, actually. I mostly just bashed people over the head. I'll leave the creativity to someone else.\"\n\n\"Alright, that should be enough.\" Tallow used his invite for the annual superhero ball to rake up the dusty scabs and poured them directly into the candle flame. The fire popped angrily as it processed the fresh fuel. He tossed the invite in the trash but it caught a breeze and fell to the floor. He probably wouldn't be attending the party. It wasn't fun being the weakest in attendance and where would he even find a-\n\nTallow was overcome by a sensation, a longing. He had no clue where Avarice was, the blood hadn't worked like hair, but he knew there was a gold ring in the drawer across the room. It would melt in his mouth like the finest chocolate, like opium.\n\n\"You okay, Tee?\" Roman asked as he sat down his shield. He sounded somewhere very far away as Tallow dug through the drawer, tossing papers to the floor.\n\n\"Better than that,\" he replied, popping the ring in his mouth and feeling a singular ecstasy roll through him. \"Do you know why Avarice always guns for you, Roman, even if there are twenty weaker heroes around?\"\n\n\"Did the blood work?\" he asked excitedly, \"can you read her mind?\"\n\n\"Not precisely. It's your tooth,\" Tallow said, stuttering with each step, unaccustomed to the super speed and trying to hide it. Just a little closer. \"Back top molar, right? They don't do the gold crowns much anymore. You'd be a delicacy to her.\"\n\n\"That makes sense. So, she not only eats gold but can sense it around her. This is good info, Tallow,\" Roman said, smiling warmly, showing just a hint of that morsel in his mouth. \"I knew you would be an assist to the heroes.\"\n\nTallow lunged through that smile, burning the gold inside himself for a little super strength to aid the speed. His fingers tingled with pleasure as they pinched the golden tooth. He kicked Roman back and popped the bloody prize to join the ring. His knees almost went weak as he savored the fresh pleasure in his mouth.\n\n\"What the hell are you doing?\" Roman blurted through bloody gasps, splitting two other teeth to the floor. He ran for his shield when he saw Tallow was charging again. Avarice's actions made perfect sense now. The gold brought with it a battle frenzy. Every cell in his body wanted to fight, destroy. He kicked out again, striking Roman's arm just as he grabbed his shield.\n\nThe shield expanded to bisect the room, Roman safely behind it. \"Calm down, buddy. She's in your head somehow. We'll get you help. You just need to calm down.\"\n\nTallow pummeled the shield, actually managing to dent it. A few more hits and he would be through. Roman knew this and recalled the shield to his preferred bashing size. Tallow was ready. He lunged again, strangling the hero this time, breathing out golden glimmers with his laughing breath as he straddled him.\n\nThe power was gone all at once. He spat the remaining gold in his mouth to the floor. How had he done something so disgusting? Roman easily broke the hold and smacked Tallow into the far wall. It hurt, a lot.\n\n\"Her power took me over when I burned the blood,\" Tallow said, as he stood. Roman was silent, approaching slowly with his shield forward. \"Are you okay? Sorry about your mouth.\"\n\n\"I'm not falling for any more tricks. I'm taking you in,\" Roman said. \"If anyone finds out I caught scars from Candle Boy, I'd be laughed out of every party till HelmsJal.\"\n\n\"Candle Boy? You've been making fun of me, behind my back?\" Tallow asked, always suspecting that was the case.\n\n\"How could we not? You have the lamest power in the city,\" Roman said. \"I'll make it quick, don't worry.\" He swung the shield down and Tallow barely managed to jump to the side, cowering under the table. This was much harder without Avarice's speed. Roman was approaching again. Tallow blindly reached above him. He gripped his black candle and pressed it to the stain surrounding the teeth Roman had spit out. It caught like dry leaves, teeth cracking almost instantly from the heat as the red flame flared high.\n\nRoman swung with his shield again and Tallow held up his candle to block. The shield bit into the wax as the candle grew long as a sword. Tallow sent more energy into the candle, swelling it larger. The shield caught fire before disappearing inside.\n\n\"Do you know what makes a candle?\" Tallow asked as Roman backed up, looking frantically around for an exit. \"It's very simple. Fat and a wick.\"\n\nTallow plunged the candle down Roman's throat. The fat under his skin sizzled as he slowly roasted from the inside. Tallow felt the power of Roman crystallize inside him. That was here to stay now, a very useful first of many. He looked down to the carnage around and laughed again, missing the golden breath. He picked up the invitation with its smiling masks. Maybe he'd be attending the ball after all.\n\n[Part 2 below](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/mqnhwd/wp_you_are_a_blist_superhero_on_the_verge_of/guhd4pi?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)\n\n\\\\---\n\nThanks for reading.\n\nIf you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,715	11,685	0.048164	1,897	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You have been told all your life that you have a rare medical condition. It means you need regular special meals that your family has lovingly prepared. You now find out that your \"condition\" actually requires fresh human flesh and your family have become serial killers to keep you alive.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "My father called me their 'miracle baby'. As a young couple they had imagined a life full of chubby children, laughter and love, but God had not seen fit to provide a child for them and so they had only had each other and hoped that was enough. It was so much later, my father nearly sixty and my mother in her late fifities when the unbelievable happened. \n \nShe had thought it was the menopause at first, even the doctor had thought so, which is why they put her on the hormones. Weak doses at first and when that didn’t help, a mixture of other experimental treatments, until, almost as a joke, my father suggested she might be pregnant. \n\nI don’t know what it must have been like for them, but the doctors assured them that the hormones would not have harmed me. Perhaps I would come out rather more manly, they joked, but otherwise I would be normal. God I wish they had been right. \n\nI wanted for nothing as a child, my parents were established professionals and had plenty of money, so things were good. The only worry was always me. Try as I might, I could not keep weight on and I was sharply skinny for many years. \n\nWhile I had been a good child in my first few years, as I got older I struggled to behave. I found myself angry much of the time and I had these urges; violent urges which were so hard to suppress that at times I seemed to lose my mind. They took me to therapy, an endless series of old men who asked me what I felt and why I acted as I did. None helped. \n\nSome doctors felt the hormones had hurt me, left me hopelessly aggressive; others dismissed this as nothing more than guesswork and nonsense. I just tried to be good, but the feelings were so hard to deal with and it left my angry and as I got older, hungry. \n\nWhen I was ten I was excluded from school for hurting another boy. My parents were dismayed, but renewed their efforts to help me. They worried that not having brothers and sisters left my socially unfulfilled and determined to include my extended family more. As luck would have it, a family gathering loomed, as Grandfather had recently passed away and we travelled to the funeral. \n\nI did my best to behave, but it all just seemed so pointless, so when they took my to the coffin and let me see an old man I barely knew, I could not have care less. Except.. I could. I looked at him and something changed, something compelled me to action. The room was empty except for my parents, but I would not have cared if my whole family had been there. \n\nWhile they spoke quietly, my father holding my mother close, I reached into the coffin. I took his arm and before they could stop me I bit him, ripping flesh from bone and swallowing quickly. My parents dragged me back, yelling in horror, but the damage was done. They fixed up my grandfather, hiding the injury that they could not explain, and as luck would have it, were able to close the coffin. They said not a word to me, but they looked at me with something more than disappointment, they looked with fear. \n\nThen, I ate. The funeral food had been paid out on a long table and I ate every last bite. My parents had never seen me eat more than a mouthful or two, but now I consumed, I devoured. They watched in shock, as the family made jokes, but they knew, somewhere inside they knew what had happened. \n\nWhen we returned home I could no longer eat and it was worse than before. My parents tried everything, but I refused all food, and the weight began to fall off me even more. I remember them arguing and then my father leaving and driving off quickly, driving into the night. \n\nIt was a week or so later when the first package arrived and my mother made a stew, just for me. It tasted of heaven and I ate every bit, then stripped the house of food. In a week I was gaining weight and in a few months I was normal. I no longer even needed to devour after my mother’s stew, I was just… normal. \n\nFor a time it worked, I was able to concentrate, behave and my marks improved. My parents were delighted and the packages came once a week to make it all possible. I don’t know where it came from, I never asked and in time I forget what had happened, letting time just pass. \n\nAfter a while I noticed that we no longer received the packages, but my father, a man who had never hunted in his life, began to spend time in the hills and woods. My mother said he needed the time to think and I never thought to question why. Soon after the stew returned, tasting just as good as it had before. \n\nAt seventeen my father died and there, at last, the problems began again. A few weeks after he was buried I realised it had been some time since my mother’s stew and I asked, but she had sorrow in her eyes. She didn't try to hide it from me, but couldn't bear to bring herself to say the words. He would go hunting to a cabin he had bought and return with meat, most often cold or frozen. She didn't ask how, why or where he went and he never told her. \n\nI had hoped then that perhaps it had passed, that perhaps I could stay as a normal boy, but after a time... the hunger grew. After a month I had lost weight and I knew that I had no choice. As before, my mother wanted to know nothing and so I drove to the woods where my father loved to hunt. He had found a place both known for its hunting and its danger. A few men disappeared there every year, it was a dangerous place. \n\nI spent a week looking for the cabin, perhaps hoping that he had a supply and I would not have to do as I knew I would, but the woods are wide and with no map, I had no chance of finding it. It was late tin the year and the woods were empty and I was frustrated. \n\nMy mother had grown old in the few weeks I had been gone. Withdrawn since my father’s death and all alone. She smiled to see me return, but her old vitality was gone, her sparkle lost. They had been too in love and she could not function without him, it was almost cruel that she had been left behind. I knew my mother and I knew that she would join him soon. So soon. \n\nMy parents provided everything for me, they did everything and they fed my hunger until they could no longer help me. My father had provided, but he was gone and my mother was a shell of the person she had been. All I had left is the recipe for her stew and tonight I will try to do it justice. I know that she'd be proud of me and willing to make any sacrifice to help me survive. \n\nOne. Last. Time. \n\n***\n\nYou know the score - /r/fringly for 4 years worth of my postings. \n\n/r/DCFU (DC Fan Universe) for Reddit's own DC comics universe where each character is written by a redditor and everything takes place in a shared universe (so all our stories link together) with our own, often wildly different takes and origins for characters.\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,104	11,683	0.073967	1,069	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " A stray dog happens to release a genie from it's lamp. The genie just wants to get the 3 wishes over with so it can go back to sleep, while the dog is just happy to have found a new friend.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The genie glared at the stick in front of it. The dog pawed it closer to him, wagging her tail with enthusiasm. \n\n\"You have three wishes, dog,\" the genie said, his arms crossed, \"but that does not make me your plaything. Please hurry this along, so I can once more go back to my slumber.\"\n\n\"Bark!\" the dog said, gazing at the genie with its bright blue eyes.\n\n\"You would waste a wish on that? So be it. I shall throw the stick.\"\n\nThe genie threw the stick far into the distance, and the dog immediately stumbled off to fetch it. The genie sighed, waiting for the dog to return. \n\nIt came back with the stick in her mouth, looking immensely proud of herself. She put the stick in front of the genie again, moving slightly into the distance, readying herself to fetch it once more.\n\n\"You only wished for one throw, dog,\" the genie said. \"Please do not waste any more of my time.\"\n\n\"Bark!\" the dog replied.\n\n\"No, you cannot wish for the same thing twice. You have already wasted one wish; do not waste them further. Think about what you truly want. It can be selfish, grandiose or otherworldly - it can be absolutely anything you want,\" the genie said, glancing at the dog's leg.\n\nThe dog seemed to hesitate, then came right up to the genie. She rolled over, exposing her belly. \n\n\"A belly rub? You would waste another wish on a belly rub?\"\n\nThe dog nodded, wagging its tail rapidly.\n\n\"So be it, foolish creature,\" the genie said, lowering himself to pet the dog, \"you shall get your belly rub.\"\n\nThe genie rubbed the dog's belly for perhaps longer than he intended to. The creature was stupid, of that there was no doubt. But that didn't make it bad.\n\n\"Now, dog. You only have one wish left. Do not think of a game of fetch, nor a belly rub. Think about what you want more than anything in the world. Whatever it is, I shall grant you it... and then take leave of you.\"\n\nThe dog stopped wagging its tail, slowly getting back onto her three legs. It seemed to think long and hard. Eventually, it came to a decision.\n\n\"Bark,\" the dog said. \n\n\"You want your master to be happy? Dog, you do not have to worry about your master. You can wish for anything you want. Anything at all.\"\n\nThe dog shook its head. \"Bark,\" it repeated with conviction. \n\n\"Well, if that is what you wish. Then tell me - where is your master?\"\n\nThe dog stared at the genie. She sat down in front of him, moving her nose towards him, as if to point.\n\n\"You mean... you mean to say that I am your master?\"\n\nThe dog jumped up, fetching her stick once more and placing it in front of the genie. \n\nThe genie looked at the dog, then the stick. He seemed to consider something.\n\n\"Very well, dog,\" he said, picking up the stick with care. \n\n\"Though I did not do a thing - your wish has been granted.\"\n\n***\n\n***\n\nIf you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/) \n\nI'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
5,028	11,667	0.005227	2,337	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": "You and your friends grew up in a small town far from any magic schools but managed to learn it eventually. You always pushed and challenged each other, unaware of how strong you were. Then one day a city mage happened to pass through town.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“Stu, have you heard?” Petra leaned over the fence that separated their yards. “There’s a mage in town!” Stu’s face lit up at the news.\n\n“Really? Does he have books and everything?”\n\n“I didn’t see him. Millie told me.”\n\nStu grinned. “Well, we’ve gotta go see him! I’ll get Ty.” He dashed off through his yard towards Ty’s house. Petra hopped down to find Millie - and the mage.\n\n“Do you think he has books for sale?” Petra asked Millie. “Maybe we could buy some - I know they’re probably expensive, but if we all chip in...” she shrugged. “We could buy at least one I guess.”\n\n“Maybe,” Millie said, scuffing her shoes as they walked. “I didn’t see any books, but he’s got a big van. Maybe he’s got some in there.”\n\nThen Stu and Ty came running towards them. “Where is he?” Ty panted as he drew near. “My dad said I have to be back in a hour.”\n\nMillie raised her hand, muttering an incantation she had learned from her grandmother. Her eyes swept left and right. Finally, she pointed. “Over there, by the market.”\n\nThe four friends walked towards the marketplace, arguing over whether the mage would have books or not. Finally, they arrived at the paved square. They saw a brightly coloured van with a tent in front of it.\n\n“That must be him,” breathed Stu. “Look at all those books.” He and Petra stepped forward for a closer look. Meanwhile, Ty and Millie stood back to examine the mage.\n\n“He looks very magical. He’s got an amulet and everything,” Millie noted. “Grandma told me about those amulets, they make your magic stronger.”\n\n“Wish I had one,” Ty grunted. “I can barely light candles.”\n\n“Oh, just imagine how much he can do with that! Do you think he can find someone anywhere in the world?”\n\n“Probably. Maybe even teleport?”\n\nMillie nodded. “Definitely teleport, with that. Grandma says I could learn to teleport soon.”\n\nStu and Petra browsed through the books. There were so many! Simple Incantations for Cooking, Firelighting for Dummies, Musings on Transmutation, and so many more. Stu picked up Musings on Transmutation while Petra continued to read the titles.\n\n“That’s a bit advanced for your age,” the mage said, leaning over the table to pluck the book from Stu’s hands. “I’d recommend A Child’s Guide to Illusion first.” He passed a much slimmer, brightly coloured volume into Stu’s hands. Stu opened it grudgingly, looking through the index.\n\n“Your First Incanation, How to Cast, Where to Buy a Wand... Do you need a wand for this?”\n\nThe mage chuckled. “I guess you really don’t know a lot about magic, huh? For beginners, it’s always necessary.” He reached under his table and brought out a catalogue. “Here are some wands you can buy. I don’t sell them, but you can order them through the mail.”\n\nPetra pulled a book off the table. “Stu, look at this! Summoning IX! This isn’t even at the library!” Stu rushes over, but the mage was faster, yanking the book from Petra.\n\n“That’s a very expensive book! And very advanced. If you want to get into summoning, you should start with Apparating the Inanimate. It sounds very complex, but I’ve got the simplified edition.”\n\nPetra frowned. “That doesn’t sound very complex at all. Even Ty can do that.” She looked at Stu, her confusion evident.\n\nStu shrugged, whispering, “I guess he thinks we’re younger than we are.”\n\nMillie walked up to the stall. “Excuse me, mister.”\n\nThe mage straightened, looking a bit flustered and placing Summoning IX on top of a large stack of books. “Yes? Do you need something?”\n\n“Do you have any books on teleportation?”\n\nThe mage groaned. Were all of the people here so intent on getting into things far above their level? “Teleportation is very advanced, and is not to be taught to children. Even I cant teleport much more than a handful of rocks, it’s very complex, not to mention dangerous.”\n\nPetra and Millie looked at each other, frowning. Petra opened her mouth to speak, but Millie spoke first. “But Auntie May can teleport a whole sheep. Why can’t you teleport?” She pointed at his amulet. “Is there something wrong with your amulet?”\n\nThe mage spluttered, “A whole sheep? My amulet? What are you talking about?” He reached to take the simplified magic books from Petra and Stu. “You can’t play those tricks on me. Now shoo!”\n\nStu held tightly onto A Child’s Guide to Illusion. “It says here that transmutation is next to impossible. That’s not right!”\n\nMillie shrugged. “Well you only did it the once, Stu. And you couldn’t figure out how, or how to undo it.”\n\nTy finally spoke up. “Are you okay, mister?” The other three turned their heads towards the mage, who was suddenly looking quite pale. “You need to sit down or something?”\n\n“I-I just might, at that,” he said, lowering himself onto the fender of his van. “What in the world...”\n\n“What’s wrong, mister? You sick?” Petra stepped towards him. “I can call the doctor for you.”\n\nThe mage flinched as she stepped forward. “N-No, I’m alright, really. Just, uh, just a little shock - transmutation?” His eyed shot towards Stu, who stood looking confused and a little frightened.\n\n“Should I not have done it? I didn’t mean to, really mister, it was an accident,” he said, trying to soothe the mage as he set the children’s illusion book onto the table.\n\n“What... did you transmute?” The mage was still sceptical.\n\nStu reached into his pocket. “It was just this.” He held a penny, or a stone shaped like a penny. “I turned it to stone and it won’t turn back! My dad was so mad!” He was almost on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, it was an accident!”\n\nThe mage reached trembling hands, grabbing the stone penny delicately. He could feel the remnants of magic energy coursing through it. “It can’t be. That’s... I’ve only heard of transmutation. Not even my teachers could...” He nearly tossed it back to Stu, then grabbed a plastic tote from underneath his table.\n\n“What are you doing?” Petra asked as he started sweeping books into the tote.\n\n“I’m, uh, leaving.” He looked nervously at her. “Is... is that okay?”\n\n“How much is that summoning book?” She pointed at Summoning IX, which balanced precariously on top of the stack.\n\n“You don’t want that one. It’s- you’d need to read one through eight first. Very complex, difficult...” he sighed as Petra’s expression did not change. “You haven’t read one through eight, have you?”\n\n“They’re at the library,” Petra said seriously.\n\nThe mage laughed nervously. “Uh-huh. Well, uh,” he grabbed it off the pile. “If I give you this, will you promise to let me go?”\n\n“I’m not keeping you here,” Petra said. But she grabbed the book nonetheless.\n\n“So, bye then,” the mage said, making a “shoo” motion. “I’ll just leave, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”\n\n“Uh, okay,” Stu said. He turned, the other children following him as the mage frantically tossed his books into totes and boxes. The children didn’t notice the frantic glances he kept throwing their way.\n\n“Well, that was disappointing,” Millie finally said.\n\n“What are you talking about?” Petra asked. “This book is great.” She was skimming through the index. “This one finally gets into summoning demons!” Ty tried to read the book over her shoulder.\n\n“Wish I got that transmutation book though,” Stu said.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nEDIT: This story, and more, can be found at r/Balancing7Plates", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,141	11,663	0.007246	817	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " it is said that there are 7 people spread out in the world who look just like you. It just so happens that all 7 of you are in an elevator when one of them says ”so your probably wondering why I gather all of you here” as he presses the emergency stop button.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The man by the button immediately pulled out a pistol. “Let me cut to the chase,” he said, “My name is Steven Burke, you can call me Seven. I’ve worked as a top assassin for over 7 years and quite frankly I’m sick of it. So, through extraordinary circumstances I’ve managed to get all six of you together in this one space.” Seven proceeded to point at the man next to me, “ Now, you’re all going to tell me what your lives consist of, starting with #6.” The man looked confused, “Uh, I’m Bruce Johnson, I work as an accountant for a restaurant chain.” “Ugh, crunching numbers sounds lame!” said Seven who then shot #6 in the face. Everyone in the elevator started to panic. “Next!” Seven exclaimed. One of the men shouted out, “I’m Daniel Kerns, I’m a skydiving instructor!” “I’m afraid of heights. Next!” said Seven as he shot the next man. “I’m Xavier Reeves, I work as an ice cream taste tester” said #5. “Sounds promising, but I’m lactose intolerant. Next!” shouted Seven as he shot #5. “My patience is wearing thin. You three, just tell me your names and professions at once!” The men before me both proceeded to declare they are a neurosurgeon and a freelance artist. Neither sounded appealing to Seven as he murdered them both. “Now, you,” Seven told me, “tell me your name and profession.” “Uh, I’m Noah Matiezyn, I work in fast food.” I pathetically let out. “Hmmm, fast food. That sounds like work I can get accustomed to. Give me your ID now.” I immediately handed it over, although it was definitely a struggle due to all the dead bodies present. “Now, it’s time for you to die.” Seven said as he pointed at me. “No!” I shouted as I grabbed on to his gun. A couple of gunshots echoed until there was only silence..\n\nA couple hours later, maintenance workers and several FBI agents were able to pry open the door. They were astounded by the bloody room. “Are you alright sir?” one agent asked, “We’ve been pursuing the deadly assassin Seven for a long time. Glad you were able to end his reign of terror. What is your name?” Thinking about it, I responded with “Xavier Reeves.”", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,757	11,660	0.006095	2,255	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You used to play a fantasy MMORPG that wasn't very popular, so you were able to take the simple name of 'Dave'. When you return to the game (now massively popular), you discover that there is now a Church of 'Dave'.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "We had been searching for him for so long, and had waded through so many imposters, that I had to implement new protocols to preserve my sanity. Ideally, he would remember his login credentials for his account, but if not, my team would run him through a series of security questions. Not just any security questions, either – these were specially drafted such that only the real player behind ‘Dave’ could answer them. And if he could answer them all, only then would they pass the name on to me. I was the final judge, the last arbiter, the only one who could approve the pay-out.\n\nThe cash reward of $50,000 was not a small sum, after all.\n\n“Really?” I said. “You think we have him?”\n\nMichael was quiet for a second, and I was about to ask if he was still there when his voice came back through the phone. “Should be,” he said. “He had all the right answers, and he even recalled the password to the account.”\n\n“Doesn’t prove anything,” I said. “Most people know the story behind the Church of Dave by now, and he could have gotten lucky with some guesswork. Besides, the password wasn’t very strong to begin with.”\n\n“Well, boss, call it a gut instinct then. I think we have our man. May be worth you talking to him.”\n\nI sighed. Michael had been wrong before, but who could blame him? By my count, over 200 people had pretended to be ‘Dave’ since we announced the reward for him to come forward. I had wanted to front the entire reward myself, but the board of Morlion Studios refused, and the company paid for it in the end. Take it as a small gift to you, boss, they had said. \n\n“Fine, put him through.”\n\nI heard Michael hang up, then the dial tones pinged as the call connected. I squinted at the email which Michael had just sent, then found the name I was looking for.\n\n“Hello, is that Steve Curries?” I asked.\n\n“Yes, yes, this is him. I’m calling about the… reward?”\n\nHis voice was softer, milder than I had anticipated. His records indicated that he was 35 this year, but he sounded much younger than that. “You’re at the right place. I’m Henry Glass, and I’m the CEO of Morlion Studios. Now, we thank you for your patience, but this is a delicate matter.”\n\n“No problem,” he said. “What else do I have to do?”\n\n“Now, Mr Curries, just a couple of questions which I have to run through with you. They may be repeats, but please bear with me.”\n\n“Of course, sure.”\n\nI used my free hand to pry open the organizer on my table. There, nestled somewhere in the middle, opposite a stack of photographs I had pinned, were the original list of questions I had written down over five months ago. \n\n“Mr Curries,” I said, “what do you know about the Church of Dave?”\n\n“Well… if I’m not wrong, it was founded after I stopped playing,” he said. “I do know though that it’s an online faction which is geared towards helping new players, regardless of how noob they are. Some say it’s the reason that the game has been growing in popularity too, because of how friendly the starting experience is.”\n\nHe was right, but all that information was also public domain. I decided to dig a little deeper.\n\n“How was the Church of Dave founded?” I asked.\n\n“Umm… I don’t have the specifics,” he said. “I think some of the players I helped just decided to band together, and they called it as such just to… honour me, I guess.” He coughed, and sputtered for a second or two. “Not saying I deserve any of that, but that’s what I put together after asking around.”\n\nI could see why Michael had referred him to me – he was either a damn good actor, or he was the real deal. None of the other impersonators had the decency to act abashed.\n\n“Mr Curries, I’m going to have to get more specifics from you, ok? I’m sure you read about the hack on our systems, and how we lost almost all of our player data. This is the only way I can be sure that you were the player behind ‘Dave’, ok?”\n\n“Yea, sure, of course.”\n\nI turned the page over in my organizer, careful not to let the slips of paper fall out. The handwriting on them was different from mine, though I would have recognized them anywhere. It wasn’t easy, coming back to all these memories, but I had already come so far.\n\n“Tell me,” I said. “Do you remember another player called… ‘PowerPele’?”\n\nHe thought for a moment, then laughed. “PowerPele? Yea, sure, sure! He was one of the first few people I linked up with on the server. Not many regular players in those days, no guilds or anything. I had to manually add him as a friend.”\n\n“Mr Curries, please tell me, in your own words, the first encounter you had with PowerPele in the Glades of Hellstorm.”\n\nI realised then that my throat had gone dry, and that I was gripping the handset far harder than I should. I forced myself to relax, to take a deep breath. \n\n“Well… I actually don’t think I met him in the Glades, you know,” he said. “No, I’m quite sure it wasn’t there. PowerPele was a noob, so it would have been elsewhere, most likely the Farm of Sheepcows. Yes, the Farm, I think.”\n\nVery good, I thought. No one else has made it this far.\n\n“PowerPele had trouble with the monsters outside,” he continued. “I saw him struggling, and thought to lend him a hand. Turns out that he was just a kid, and it was his first online game. He said other players had been picking on him, killing him for shits and giggles. So I stayed, I guess. To protect him, then to show him the ropes of the game.”\n\n“Anything else you remember?”\n\nMr Curries let out a pent-out breath. “Wow… I’m sorry, this is just bringing back a lot of memories, you know? We kinda just… stuck together after that. A couple of hours, most days. It would have taken him months to catch up, and he kept saying that he did not think he could play for long, so I let him hitch a ride.”\n\n“Hitch a ride?”\n\n“I mean… I kept him in my party, then brought him along with me to all the high-level areas in the game. Like the Glades, for instance. I think I gave him a dragon-horse too, so that he could fly with me to the top of Mount Leruna. It’s the only place in the game where sunsets are fully rendered, you see.”\n\nI know, I thought. I programmed those myself.\n\n“How long did this go on for?” I asked.\n\n“Oh… I couldn’t say. Two, three months? Then I graduated, and work began, and I thought to leave the game behind. I sent PowerPele an in-game message to say goodbye, and to the rest of the friends I met too, but I’m not sure I ever got a reply. And that’s mainly why I’m here though. I want to get my old account back, log back in, see if I can reconnect with them. It would be nice to see where they are now.”\n\nSo would I want to reconnect with PowerPele, I thought. So would I.\n\nI closed the organizer. There were many more pages, just like that, filled with handwritten notes. Notes which asked me when I would be home for dinner, when I would have the time to show him the next areas in the game, when I could help him level through the tougher spots. Funny how I had read those notes at the time but felt nothing, consumed only by the desire to complete the game and make it the best one there ever was. \n\nNow though, every single note was a stab in the bloody heart.\n\nI had made my peace. I would never shake the guilt at not spending enough time with my son, but it was comforting to know that someone out there had helped him see the sunsets I had embedded into my life’s work.\n\n“Sir? Mr Glass? You there?”\n\n“How would you like the reward, Mr Curries? Cash or cheque?”\n\n---\n\n/r/rarelyfunny \n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,417	11,660	0.00685	1,744	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " All the Gods that humans have worshipped are in the middle of a meeting, when suddenly the doors slam open. Two new entities enter, a helix fossil and a being made of spaghetti and meatballs.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The room was rowdy, to say the least. Shango, Thor, and Perun hammered the desk and shouted violently, the Greek deities and their Roman seconds nearly frothed at the mouths. What remained of the Norse delegation was frozen mid conversation with the Jade Emperor and the Vedics. \n\nIt was the glares from the three men at the head of the table which were most disconcerting however. They cut an interesting trio. The first, a scrawny middle eastern lad of too few years and even fewer meals with tightly curled black hair and blood dripping from his fists fixed us with flat brown eyes that seemed to be evaluating and calculating. The smallest beginning of a smile played at the corner of his mouth, but seemed bound and determined not to escape. \n\nNext to him stood a broad shouldered man with a great beard and golden rings glittering on his hands. His white locks cascading around his shoulders, blue eyes hard and cold. His mouth was set in a hard line. \n\nThe third was bristling with rage. He resembled the second, though his hair was dark and better kept. His skin a slightly darker shade of olive from the first two, and his eyes a vivid green that seemed almost to glow with incredulity. \n\nNot, it should be noted, at the rest of the assembled deities. But rather at myself, and my companion. \n\n\"R'amen.\" I spoke, as well as one can when one is more at home in a strainer than taking on a corporeal form. I swept my noodly appendages in approximation of a bow. Directing the action towards the trio as the rest of the room fell quiet. \n\nEven a mortal could have heard a pin drop, were such a thing possible here. It was into that silence that my companion spoke, \"Now is not the time for that.\" \n\n\"Surely, this is meant to be a joke!\" The third gentlemen fairly exploded, turning on the other two, \"This was meant to be a summit of belief, not an opportunity for true faith to again be made a mockery of by blasphemy such as this!\"\n\nThere was a rumbling of agreement, largely stemming from the older faiths in attendance. Though there were notable gaps, especially among the Norse and Greeks, who have somewhat benefited by the same modern sensibilities as myself and my companion.\n\n\"Patience, brother. Astounding as it may seem, there are those who truly believe in these beings.\" The first of the trio let a bit of his smile loose, \"Though I will admit, more claim the faith than actually practice it.\"\n\nIf I had eyebrows to raise I'd have taken the opportunity, as it was I wiggled the noodles around my meatballs, fairly shaking with mirth. \"A point, there are plenty of my followers who wouldn't know Bobby Henderson if he walked up and bit them, but we are recognized in New Zealand, and you'll see a few strainers in license photos.\" Taking a bit of a dig at the first I couldn't help but go on, \"Besides, Pastafarians are hardly the first to have a no true scotsman issue, how's the whole 'for I was a stranger' thing going?\"\n\nMy companion took on an irritated tone, and fairly scolded me, \"Now is not the time for that.\"\n\nIt is possible my companion has better sense than I. \n\nThe first flinched slightly at my joke, but bore it in good humor. I had already believed him to be Jesus, but having it confirmed was nice. I had my suspicions as to which of the remaining was Yahweh and which was Allah, but it's always difficult to tell apart those deities who hail from the same source material.\n\nOriginality is key among the human pantheon. One benefit to being a fossil from a first generation pokemon game and a sentient flying mass of spaghetti. Possibly the only benefit.\n\nWhere Jesus had born my joke in good humor, his two companions did not. Not that i could blame them, Allah in particular asked a rather relevant question.\n\n\"How. Many.\"\n\nOkay, so it didn't exactly sound like a question. More of a demand, an incredulous demand. Still though, for all the bad press most of my followers seem to be getting on the guy, he was taking things in good faith. Much better than old Yahweh at least, who had begun taking determined strides across the room, void, whatever. Point is, time was limited.\n\nAgain, I chose to speak for my companion as well as myself, \"Fifty-seven individuals have truly accepted myself and my teachings into their hearts. My companion here boasts over seventeen thousand.\"\n\nYahweh stopped in his tracks, \"So many? Yet you speak for him?\"\n\nMy companion replied cordially, \"Now is not the time for that.\"\n\n\"You may have realized by now, the Helix Fossil isn't exactly big on communication. Faith in it is more of a 'follow the process' idea. Do what's right, face down your challenges, never trust the dome fossil. That kind of thing.\" I waved a noodle in his direction, \"He asked me to swing by and smooth over his joining the council.\"\n\nThe Jade Emperor spoke up from near Yahweh's left elbow, \"How, exactly, did he do that?\"\n\n\"Have you heard of venemoth?\" at the blank stares that permeated the room I sighed, letting my noodly appendages droop slightly, \"Okay, omniscience not all it's cracked up to be I guess. Suffice it to say the Helix finds a way.\"\n\nI clapped my noodly appendages together briskly, gathering the rooms attention, \"Anyway, the rules are pretty clear, more than 15,000 true believers, you get a seat at the council. So I'd like everyone to wish a warm welcome to the Helix!\"\n\nYahweh spoke first, begrudgingly.\n\n\"Fine, sit him next to the Jedi and the Builders of the Adytum and let's get back to work.\"\n\nAllah shook his head mirthlessly, \"Jesus Christ, what is the world coming to?\"\n\nRaising a single bloody palm in acquiescence towards the fossil, Jesus shrugged slightly, \"Not salvation, apparently.\"\n\n\nEdit for part two, may do a general edit for grammar and readability later, may not. Depends on when I wake up tbh. ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,253	11,657	0.082588	1,011	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You gained immortality by absorbing thousands of souls. They have gotten used to it and act like Twitch chat watching a livestream of your life.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Hey--\" \n\n\"No,\" she said, not even looking up from her book. \n\n>Can we get an F in the soulscape? \n> \n>F \n> \n>F \n> \n>F \n> \n>What the fuck does F mean? \n> \n>Tap into the hivemind loser\n\n\"Sorry, I just wanted to ask if you knew where the library was. I'm meeting a friend there.\" \n\n>I'm new, are we actually meeting someone? \n> \n>No \n> \n>I have all the friends I need right here \n> \n>Gay \n> \n>Imagine being over 1200 years old and still having negative game \n> \n>Spent most of that sleeping I think \n> \n>The days of axe murder are over, now begins the days of awkward pick-ups\n\nThe girl looked up. \"Dude, the library is literally ten miles away.\" \n\n\"I like walking.\" \n\n>FUCKING WHAT \n> \n>I LIKE WALKING \n> \n>I, too, used to like walking. \n> \n>Waddling, you mean \n> \n>He used to be fat? \n> \n>We gained fifty pounds eating his soul alone \n> \n>It took so long to walk off\n\nThe girl burst out laughing. \n\nThe host's expression was frozen on an awkward smile. He finally sighed and asked, \"Do you want to get coffee sometime?\" \n\n>The balls on this man \n> \n>The bravery \n> \n>The sheer audacity \n> \n>As a woman, I want to die again \n> \n>There was a woman watching this? Oh no \n> \n>Big yikes \n> \n>Also a woman. Can confirm, I want to die again \n> \n>There are dozens of us. Dozens!\n\n\"Sure, I guess,\" the girl said, settling for a moment before laughing a little more. \n\n\"I know a pretty good place a block from here if you have time now.\" \n\n\"Okay. Let's go,\" she said, getting up from the bench. \n\n>WHAT THE FUCK HOW \n> \n>THE GOD \n> \n>Such bullshit \n> \n>I am literally returning to the aether as we speak \n> \n>Take me with you \n> \n>Ladies, can y'all explain what just happened? \n> \n>I DON'T KNOW EITHER \n> \n>I mean we can ask once she gets here, right?", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,982	11,651	0.050747	1,054	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " They called you a madman for raiding the history museum during a zombie apocalypse. What they didn't expect was for full plate armour to be so effective.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "They called me a madman. Delusional. Don Quijote chasing monsters made of windmills.\n\nI wish my monsters were just windmills. Instead, they're strangers and friends and family. They're former members of society, their skin coming off in sloughs as they stumble through the streets. Some I've recognized, put an end to their misery just the same. Others I've never met, but they're fresh enough that I see what they would have looked like once.\n\nI pity them. They died too soon to learn, too soon to pick a suit of armor and ride beside me. They had tried other methods, failures all of them.\n\nSome survivors went for firepower. They raided armories, police stations, that military base nestled in the mountains and crawling with zombies. Eventually, they ran out of ammunition and died making a supply run. \n\nOthers went for shelter. They found bunkers, fought over them, dug their own graves and weathered the hunger until they, too, became hollow husks of humans.\n\nA handful did what I did, or at least half of it. They picked a sword, but forgot the armor. Relied on themselves, on their strength, on the old-fashioned weapons from which kingdoms and empires had been built.\n\nI raided the museum. They called me a madman. Laughed as the door slammed shut behind me and I clobbered a stumbling curator with a golf club. Brain and bone splattered. \n\nThe suit of armor could have been forged for me. It fit perfectly. I slipped it on, brandished my sword, paced slow and heavy towards the front doors of the museum.\n\nEach step was a struggle, but I'd grow used to it. Each step would become easier, each swing of that sword, too. \n\nIt sliced through the zombies like a sharpened blade through flesh. Dark, too real--it sliced like a knife through butter intent on eating me. I left them headless in crumbled heaps. \n\nThe ones that reached me couldn't bite me. Their teeth broke on my armor. Their hands turned to claws slipped on the protective steel. A gauntleted hand would pummel their head, crush the part that set them free to die the way humans were meant to die.\n\nI was safe. \n\nThey called me a madman when I entered the museum. I walked out their savior, lugging behind me another suit of armor. They said I'd be swarmed, but I held those vile creatures off for just long enough. \n\nAgain, they called me a madman when I raided that old farm, rescued the horses from being devoured alive and picked the finest one for myself. They laughed at me. Called my efforts futile foolishness. \n\nI rode out a knight prepared to slay those awful monsters they'd become.\n\nThe last of them called me a madman as I hacked down from atop my noble steed, horse armored as its rider. They stared as I charged right through the horde of zombies to break free from where they'd had us cornered.\n\nI turned around to survey what was left. The horde closed in on them. Growled at the savory meal as they screamed for help. I laughed--laughed like a madman. \n\nThey always called me a madman, but they'd call me nothing anymore.\n\n*****\n\nThanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,834	11,640	0.182647	2,003	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " A boy and his dog die in an accident, and both show up at the pearly gates of dog-heaven. The boy can't be admitted, and must traverse purgatory to get to human-heaven. Instead of entering paradise, the dog decides to make sure his young owner gets to human-heaven safely first.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Go ahead, boy,\" Dan said to his dog, Rocket.\n\nRocket peered at the towering gold gateway in front of them. Clouds swirled overhead, the ground was a blanket of wooly velvet. Murmers and barks could be heard far off, beyond the gates. \n\nA large pale dog trainer, with golden hair and white robe held a silver, heavenly dog leash. The heavenly trainer held the collar of the leash out lovingly, beckoning Rocket. \n\nRocket glanced at the collar, then back at Dan, unsure. He ran over to Dan and licked his face. The trainer stared at Dan knowingly, then nodded its head. He heard a voice in his head. I see. Go, then. You may return soon.\n\nRocket wagged his tail, licking Dan's face and growling affectionately. The trainer waved as they left the gateway entrance. \n\nThey walked down a silver staircase deep into the ground. Or was it a ceiling? Dan could not be sure.\n\nDan followed the staircase deep into the depths of the structure. He held a handrail as he descended, watching Rocket as he trailed behind.\n\nFrom the air, out of nowhere, apparitions appeared. They had faces of grim death. One was a skeletal face, a snake weaving through its eye sockets. It spoke to Dan:\n\nThat one does not belong here. Leave it. Come with me if you want to be saved.\n\nDan looked at Rocket, and Rocket gave no indication of leaving or stopping. Dan shook his head at the apparition. \"No,\" said Dan, \"he comes with me.\"\n\nThe apparition exploded into a red fireball and disappeared into the tunnel before him. Dan had reached a long corridor. At the end he heard screams. Bloodcurtling bellowing of men and women who were lost to the world. \n\nDan knew he did not belong here. But it was the only way. And Rocket pushed him to continue.\n\nThey moved down the corridor slowly, as the screaming grew louder. The walls seemed to shake, like when you go to a loud concert. That was what it sounded like to Dan, a loud rock concert of death.\n\nRocket groaned, but they had come too far to turn back. \n\nThey came upon a tall black door. A door as grim as hell. On the surface was a protruding eye. The eye opened and looked at Dan. It blinked a few times, then closed. Then the door swung open, and Dan and Rocket were met with a blast of hellish screams. \n\nThe place was a spectacle. Humans being torn apart then put back together again, only to be torn apart once again. People on a spit, being roasted, eaten alive, then built back into full beings. Some people just cried in a fetal position. \n\nIn the center of this huge arena-like place, was a tall tower. It had a glowing eye on top that seemed to oppressively watch all that transpired below.\n\nRocket barked at the tower, and stood in front of Dan protectively. Dan patted Rocket on the head. \"Its OK boy. They're just lost souls. We're not lost, we're on our way through.\"\n\nRocket licked his hand, and they started to go through the arena, toward the tower. Large demons with scarred, tragic faces beckoned them to their torture areas. Dan tried to shield his eyes, to ignore the protests of the hungry wraiths. The demons of purgatory were hungry for young blood. They seemed to be attracted to Dan like a magnet.\n\nBut Rocket growled and barked at the demons and devils as they approached, scaring them away. \"Good boy,\" Dan said.\n\nAs they got closer to the great tower with the eye, a dark cloaked being appeared from behind.\n\n\"You do not belong in this realm,\" the being said.\n\n\"Who are you?\" asked Dan.\n\n\"I am the keeper. I make sure people suffer in due course. I know the eyes of the guilty. Your eyes betray an innocence that transcends any purgatory. You have the look of an innocent. The are only two ways to go, up and down. Otherwise you stay in the middle, which is not where you belong.\"\n\nDan shook his head in confusion, then pet Rocket. \"Let's go boy, these people are crazy.\"\n\nThey continued their journey to the tower, stepping over dead bodies and severed limbs. The ground was caked with dry blood. The blood stuck to Dan's soles, leaving footsteps the color of wine behind him. \n\nThey eventually reached the foot of the tower, then looked up at the eye. It beamed down at them. Searching. Scrutinizing. \n\nIt appeared to be satisfied with Dan in some way. A doorway opened up in front of them. Dan and Rocket shrugged and walked through the door.\n\nInside it was like a very old elevator. Like the type they have in bygone towers in New York City. Dan recalled a trip to the Big Apple when he was just a little lad. They brought him up to the top of the Empire State Building. When he went to the platform, he looked over the ledge, and dropped a penny. He was terrified it would fall on an innocent person's head and slice through their skull. \n\nHe shuddered at that thought, and hoped it would not betray him in this place. \n\nUp the elevator went, seemingly forever. Just when he thought the ride would never end, they reached a top floor, and heard a ding.\n\nThe doors slid open, and they were hit with a blast of heavenly white light. They heard choirs singing, bells chiming. There was a rainbow shimmer to the air. A dove flew over, and Rocket chased after it. \n\nDan glanced at the dog chasing the bird, and laughed. \n\nThen he saw a giant gateway. It was towering, monumental, encrusted with jewels. He stepped up to it, staring up at the parapets above. It was a sort of castle, but the walls never seemed to end. Sort of like the great wall of china, but spectacularly stunning in form.\n\nDan stood in front of the gateway. Nothing happened. He waited, fearful that he would be stuck here forever, waiting.\n\nThen a being made of light hovered down beside Dan. It had angel wings and carried a sword and shield. \n\n\"Why do you have weapons?\" asked Dan.\n\n\"To guard against any invaders. Heaven is a place of protection.\" The angel glanced over at Rocket. \"That is your animal. He has been your companion to this place.\"\n\nDan nodded.\n\n\"We welcome both of you to our home. Your home. Please enter, and be at peace,\" said the angel.\n\nDan called Rocket, but when he looked over, rocket had changed. Rocket was a ghost now. A glowing, shimmering spirit. He gave a small bark, and licked Dan. \n\nWhen Dan looked at himself, he saw that he too was now a shimmering spirit. He touched Rocket, and felt the warmth of his soul pulsating within him.\n\n\"You can feel each other's thoughts now,\" said the angel.\n\nDan felt Rocket's thoughts. Pure love, that only a dog can produce. Rocket's eyes glowed, and seemed to cry with joy.\n\n\"This is a good place,\" said Dan.\n\n\"The best,\" said Rocket.\n\nDan smiled. He loved happy endings.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,782	11,635	0.171438	1,233	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " A crazy old man gives you his pen, promising that you'll ace your physics test if you use it. You take the test and wake up the next morning to find that the laws of physics have changed to fit your answers.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Today’s been the weirdest day. When I went to put my bowl of cereal on the table, for some reason it wouldn’t stay down on the table, I had to hold it there with my left hand while pouring the milk with the right. Somehow the milk stayed in the bowl, but when I went to drink it after the cereal, the texture of the milk felt off, like it was thicker than usual or something? But it didn’t taste or smell spoiled, so I don’t know what’s up with that. \n\nI nearly got into a crash when I was driving to school too, for some reason when I went to stop at the first traffic light, my brakes didn’t seem to do anything at all, so I jammed down on the brakes real hard and it’s a good thing the brakes locked up because I immediately stopped skidding. I think I’m going to have to gas up after classes today too, which is a bummer ‘cause I swear I gassed up yesterday, and I don’t get paid until Friday. \n\nI was so bored in economics today, I started tearing little pieces of paper outta my notebook and trying to toss ’em in the waste basket. It was pretty cool ‘cause I was making most of them in, they went straight towards the bin and then dipped down at the last moment just like Wile E. Coyote, I must’ve finally figured out how to arc them in right. But it was really weird when I picked up my bag after that, ‘cause it suddenly seemed like my bag weighed like a ton of bricks after I took out that little bit of mass of the paper bits, and it really took a lot of force to pick up my bag, and lots of energy to just carry it across the hall, I swear I must’ve burned a zillion calories on that alone. \n\nBut the best part of today is when we got our physics tests back — not only did I ace it for the first time ever, but that brainy know-it-all who sits in the front row must’ve bombed it. Oh yeah! I’m totally going to transfer to Harvard next year! \n\nNow all I gotta do is pass that econ test tomorrow. \n\n—————\n\nEdit / Author’s Note: \n\nSome people asked which laws of physics were broken/changed. Below are what I included deliberately (though I’m only human, I could’ve messed up something else by mistake), most of which are based on errors I’ve seen my students do.\n\n1) Inconsistent direction for gravity (that is, g sometimes as +9.80 and sometimes as -9.80m/s^2) - the bowl floats sometimes, but nothing else in the narrator’s day floats. \n2) Incorrect viscosity of liquid - milk.\n3) Coefficient of static friction too small and/or Pascal’s principle broken - brakes don’t stop the car, could be either due to too little friction, or due to hydraulics not working right (TIL: modern cars with electric braking systems still have a hydraulic part to the process, it’s just that the brake pedal doesn’t connect directly to the hydraulics, but to electronics which then connect to the hydraulics, thanks u/fluffy996 and u/RosieTheTortoise). \n4) Coefficient of kinetic friction greater than static friction and/or infinite - brakes locking up makes the car stop instantly.\n5) Something vague about fuel consumption - could be conservation of mass/energy, fluid flowing through the solid tank, the gauge not working due to Archimedes’ principle and the Cartesian diver problem, or something else.\n6) Projectiles don’t take parabolic paths, but Wile E Coyote paths - throwing the spitballs.\n7) Conservation of momentum and/or Newton’s law of Forces - picking up the bag, forces perspective is that the mass went down but it took more force to lift, momentum perspective is thinking of a small decrease in mass (dm) and the rocket ship propulsion example.\n8) Definition of work - carrying the bag horizontally should be 0 work since the force and displacement are perpendicular.\n\nThanks for reading! Hope everyone aces their physics exams the legit way. 😁", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,781	11,628	0.008151	1,091	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You've always been around your best friend. He used to be a lonely kid, but he's slowly starting to become popular. Others talk to him, but keep ignoring you. One day, to your horror, you realize that you're just his imaginary friend.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"What are we playing today?\" Billy was sitting in his room. There were Legos strewn about. A Bionicle here, Pokemon cards there. \n\n\"Let's build Legos today.\" And so we did. We always played what Billy wanted. Not because he said we had to, but because it made him happy. And that made me happy. It made me happy to see him happy. \n\nTo be cliche, we had always been two peas in a pod. Inseparable. I wasn't any more social than Billy and he seemed perfectly content with a single best friend. \n\n\"Are you ready for the school year?\" He sighed. I was ready. I was excited to see other students and to help him with his homework and to somehow never be called on by the teacher. But he didn't like school. He didn't like being forced to socialize. He didn't like only having me to eat lunch with while the other students ate in big groups. \"Maybe this year will be different.\"\n\n\"Maybe.\" Probably not, that's what his maybe meant. After years of friendship, I knew him well enough to know that.\n\n\"Maybe you'll make friends.\"\n\n\"Maybe.\"\n\nBut he did. Maybe it was the confidence I gave him. Maybe it was the new mix of students now that they were in middle school. \"Are we having lunch, Billy?\"\n\nHe had hung back, talking to a teacher after class. She smiled at him, and it actually seemed genuine. They used to smile out of pity, but I wouldn't tell him that. I didn't feel well, and I couldn't pinpoint why. I felt tired. Fatigued. My breaths were strained and my body ached. \"Yeah, with some new friends,\" he answered. And we walked together down the hallway, step by painful step. \n\nI saw Billy smile. That made me smile. They gave him high-fives and patted his back. He was one of them, and I wasn't. My body was cold. My hands tingled and my vision blurred.\n\nYou know those dreams you have where you try to walk but don't move? You're in a tunnel and you can see the light at the end but no matter how much you walk or run, you never get any closer? Maybe there's a monster behind you, hunting you down. This monster isn't real. I know that. But Billy kept walking and I stood rooted to my spot, my feet moving but my body not advancing. \n\n\"Billy?\" I called out. My voice was faint. It barely echoed. \"Billy?\" Louder this time, but just to me. Nobody else turned. Students whirled around me, a maelstrom of bodies completely indifferent to me. The monster in this nightmare wasn't real. But I was starting to think that maybe I wasn't either. \n\nHe turned around, just barely. He might have mouthed thank you. Or maybe it was sorry. I smiled at him. I think that's what friends do; smile for each other even when the going gets tough. Even when the friendship fractures and one gets left by the wayside, I still smile at him. Maybe he'll come back. Maybe he'll save me from the cold loneliness. \n\nBut he didn't come back for me. He just gave me that sad smile, the one he would give when we would eat lunch just him and me. I looked down at myself. Students passed through my fading body, and I felt the last of me disappear.\n\n*****\n\nThanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,784	11,616	0.082501	1,198	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " The Reapers come every 50 thousand years to wipe out organic life that has reached the stars however this time, this time they arrive at the heaviest resistance they have every encountered. In the grim darkness of the future they find 40k.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Harbinger slowly drifted towards the busy world on the edge of the galaxy. Previous scans showed a promising level of biomass and activity, perfect for an initial pool of pawns for the coming salvation. The rest of the fleet was not far behind and needed to move quickly due to the apparent size of this cycle. Harbinger broke through the atmosphere, ominously on a vector towards the largest city on the populated rock. Backed by a dark mechanical hum the giant Reaper touched down in the sprawling mass of what appeared to be a city. The first step was well under way.\n\n\"Assuming direct con-\"\n\nOI! WOTS DAT FING? \n\nBoss iz looks like one uv-\n\nSHUT UP! IZ SEEN A FISHY BEFORE. I aint neva seen a fishy wit a shiny eye like dat one der.... I WANT IT.\nGET ALL DA BOYZ AND GET DAT GIT\n\nHarbinger heard the faint sound of a single lifeform yelling from the top of makeshift tower then firing a crude weapon in the sky. Suddenly the screaming and firing spread like wildfire though the city. Every corner of every structure seemed to explode into a stream of oversized rounds directly at the Reaper. The Orks were met with a response from the ancient reaper, the reverberating sound of the main laser weapon rang out as entire swaths of the city were wiped away. The settling dust from these scars revealed more the excited and increasingly motivated orks looting the largest weapons from the dead and continuing to fire. Ork ships were now swarming the Reaper in seemingly random flight paths. The makeshift navy was attacking in various forms ranging from a stream of bullets, catapults launching orks at the giant Reaper, or violently ramming into the hull. Harbinger had never encounter a race so ingrained in violence. \n\nBOSS! Our shipz iz doin' nuthing. Our shootas aint even wurth it. Wot do we do Boss?\n\nWarboss Gutrippa thought for a split second. Every fiber of his being poured into concentrating on a solution. This was is biggest fight and the most important so far. Suddenly a rare moment of Ork clarity. He knew, without a doubt, what needs to be done.\n\nWEZ AINT GOT OUR FISHIN' HATZ! \nGET ALLZ DA BOYZ TO TURN ER' HELMETZ UN HATZ TO DA SIDE A BIT. SEE? NOW ITZ A FISHIN' HAT AND NOW WE CAN KRUMP DAT SHINY FISH!\n\nHarbinger sensed a moment of silence as the entire planet seemed to stop moving. All scans showed the lifeforms seemingly adjusting their helmets, and other various activities. Shortly after a shattering explosion of gunfire began again. This time the rounds ripped through the hull of the ancient Reaper, alerts from every system rang through the processor as breaches populated at an alarming rate. What is this?! How? He had never encountered resistance like this before. Panic set in for the first time in eons. He had to leave, regroup and glass the planet with the Reaper fleet. Just as the Reaper was set to retreat from the surface, the largest Ork ship appeared. Warboss Gutrippa stood at the mast of the massive ship, a large makeshift harpoon in one hand and a fishing rod with the end of the line being a machine gun in the other. As the ship picked up speed, Gutrippa swung the fishing rod above his head in a lassoing motion, the machine gun at the end now firing non stop. The Fishing boat rammed through the Ancient purifier. The Reaper went silent, with its hull collapsing into the city. \n\nAs the dust settled and the swarms of Orks and Gretchin began looting the corpse, Warboss ~~Gutrippa~~ Fishgutaa looked to the sky. The rest of the Reaper fleet was descending.\n\nLISTEN UP BOYZ! \nWAAAGH!!!!\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,743	11,613	0.010095	1,356	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " To increase efficiency, God has uploaded the source code for Life, the universe and everything to GitHub. However, he forgot to set it as a private project and now people are auditing his code, filing bug reports and submitting patches. The kicker? Someone has been making mods.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Who did this??????\"\n\nGod buried his face in his palms, shaking his head over the keyboard of his [Apple IIc](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/4/48/Apple_IIc_with_monitor.jpg/300px-Apple_IIc_with_monitor.jpg).\n\n\"Well, it looks like you, uh, forgot to mark it as private,\" Steve said while adjusting his turtleneck. It's always an oy vey when Yahweh is in a mood, and he was certainly in one now.\n\n\"Yea, thanks for that one Steve, I hadn't noticed,\" God replied, rubbing his temples. \"Just help me fix it!\"\n\n\"I'm not really sure I know how to do that...\"\n\nGod paused, then looked up at him, a look of incredulous annoyance on his face.\n\n\"What do you mean you 'don't know' how to do that,\" he said, making the air quotes with his hands. \"You're Steve Jobs for Christ's sake! Why else do I keep you around if not for this???\"\n\nWith that, a younger bearded man popped his head through the door, \"You called dad?\"\n\n\"Not *now* Jesus,\" God exclaimed, gesturing to the young man to leave. \"Dang nabbit, I knew I should've given Bill the cancer instead of you. He was always more helpful.\"\n\nSteve looked hurt at that, pulling back and putting his hand over his chest in an expression that was half mockery half genuine offense.\n\n\"Look God, I'm really trying here but I'm not sure where we'd even begin to sort this...\" Steve gestured to the computer, \"mess out!\"\n\n\"What do you mean?!\" God yelled back, his frustration mounting.\n\n\"Well for starters, how are you even accessing the internet on that fossil of a computer?\"\n\nAt this, God paused. He seemed to contemplate for a moment then turned back to Steve and shrugged, \"Ubuntu.\"\n\nSteve hunched forward, mouth agape \"Ubuntu?\"\n\nGod nodded and replied, \"Ubuntu.\"\n\nNow it was Steve's turn to bury his head in his hands. \"Ok, for starters I don't even think you know what that is. Second off, it says here you need administrator privilege to set this repository as private.\"\n\n\"Administrator privilege??\" God asked incredulously. \"I'm GOD,\" he said, pointing his hands back to his chest, \"I am *the* administrator!\"\n\n\"Not anymore,\" Steve replied chuckling.\n\n\"Why you smug little- wait, what's going on?\" God asked pointing at the changes going on the screen.\n\nSteve looked over to see what God was referring to, then noticed that the page was updating.\n\nSomeone had been editing the code.\n\nThe two stood in silence for what felt like an eternity to Steve, and a few minutes for God, before the page displayed the edits.\n\n\"...What the hell am I looking at Steve?\"\n\n\"Well...it looks like they made some body modifications.\"\n\n\"Yea, I can see that, but what the hell. What did they do specifically?\"\n\n\"Well, let's see,\" Steve said, adjusting his glasses and leaning in close. \"It looks like whoever was editing this enlarged...everyone's eyes? And gave everyone...\" Steve trailed off, looking bewildered.\n\n\"Gave everyone what? Spit it out!\"\n\n\"Well, it looks like they gave all the females cat ears...\" Steve said shaking his head.\n\nUpon hearing that, God tensed up.\n\n\"^(oh no.)\"\n\n\"What is it? Do you understand what's happening?\"\n\n\"My greatest mistake.\" God turned slowly to look Steve in the eye, sending chills down his spine, and in a hushed tone said a single word:\n\n&#x200B;\n\n&#x200B;\n\n&#x200B;\n\n\"anime\"\n\n&#x200B;\n\n&#x200B;\n\n\nEDIT: Damn, this blew up! Thank you all for the kind comments, I'm glad I could make so many people laugh and smile! Also thanks for the Gold and Silver strangers! If anyone else feels the need to give some though, just go ahead and donate it to a charity instead. St. Judes is always a good idea, and it'll make the kids smile like hopefully I made you smile! ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,807	11,605	0.019537	929	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": "\"We've been found!\"", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "It was amusing at first. For about 3 seconds. Until I realized who they were talking about.\n\nMy days at work were slow and boring, filled with tedious tasks that took about an hour. Which left me with 7 more to fill. I remember the joy I felt when I realized that reddit wasn't blocked on my work computer.\n\nNow I wished I'd never discovered that.\n\nThe titles were innocuous, Looking at Dog Breeds Again or Taking More Pictures of the Cats. I thought it was just another animal sub, as I followed a lot of them. A lot. But then I looked into the sub, planning to follow it too.\n\nAnd the banner at the top of the sub caught my eye. Or well, my eyes caught my eye. It was me, smiling my squinty smile into a camera.\n\n\"What the fuck?!\" I muttered to myself, scrolling down to the pinned posts.\n\nIt was unusual in that it was just... usual. Posting rules, being polite and all that shit. But the biggest rule was that they were only allowed to post about me. It even had my name. My full name. I was careful about my reddit post, only mentioning in general where I lived and worked, nothing about my personal life. But they knew me.\n\nAnd under the posts I saw wasn't just general info about looking for a dog breed, but me looking for one. I wasn't allowed to get a dog where I lived, but still looked into it sometimes in the general thought of 'what if'. And the post pointed that out!\n\nAt first I thought it was a prank by my roommates who loved to mess with me. But the next post was a candid shot of last Tuesday, I recognized the skirt I was wearing. And my roommates both work on Tuesday.\n\nThere were more pictures, me at the grocery store, me mowing my front yard, me reading in my car... me sleeping!\n\nSome were taken from pictures my friends and family had taken, or directly from my own social media accounts. \n\nThe text posts interspersed here and there talked about my freaking life. How often I'd visit my dad, what I was doing from day to day, things I'd said to one person or another.\n\n\"What in the Truman Show fuck is this?\"\n\nI'm not anyone important. Not a celebrity or anything like that.\n\nI scrolled for a bit in morbid fascination, trying to find out how far back the posts went. I got about as far as the day I graduated high school when the page auto refreshed. And then everything was gone, save for one post.\n\nWe've Been Found\n\nAttached was a picture of the back of my head, and over my shoulder was the subreddit. I spun around in my chair as quickly as I could, but no one was there.\n\nThe first comment was from one of the sub's moderators. SecretAdmirer21, who had made the post said, \"Worry not, my intrepid admirers! I'll PM everyone when we set up a new subreddit! It'll be better hidden this time.\"\n\nI shivered.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,610	11,605	0.004099	2,245	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " As a teen, you daydreamed and wrote about a fictional world you created. Ten years later, you’ve now started hearing voices. They’re prayers from the inhabitants of your world. To them, it has been 1,000 years since their god abandoned them and you must make things right.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I always knew I was a bit crazy. The voices told me that much, even though I knew better than to let on. When I was a child, I thought they were harmless imaginary friends. In high school, they grew relentless. Murmuring over my shoulder as I tried to work. No one, it turns out, remembers the quadratic equation that well when there are half a dozen whispers, spinning in your ear. \n\nBut I accepted it. I learned to live with it. \n\nYou learn not to tell people. To rely on their cues to see if anyone else heard that man scream from the corner, Do you even know that we still exist? If no one else flinches, I know I've made it up. Another shovelful of dirt, burying me under all this.\n\n\nBut telling people is dangerous for two reasons: 1) they'll know I'm fucking off-the-wall crazy and 2) if they try to listen for it, it feels so much more real. \n\nMy therapist said the most dangerous thing I can do is believe it's all real.\n\nSo I don't. Every morning, I mix my coffee and listen to dozens of pleas, echoing through my brain the way other people have an internal monologue\n\nWhere are you?\n\nAre you still waiting for us like we're waiting for you?\n\nWe're trapped, and you just left us here to die.\n\nBut today, it's different. Today, I rise for the first time, and I hear... nothing. Nothing but the quiet echo of my brain, screaming back nothingness at me. I wonder if this how it feels to have an empty mind. This is the privilege so many others have without ever realizing. \n\nI try not to celebrate too early. Try not to let the rush of relief make me grin too widely. I have learned not to trust my own brain.\n\nBut perhaps, if this keeps up, I'll have something worth bragging about to my therapist. \n\nA knock resounds gently from the front door. I turn away from my coffee pot and frown. It's still early in the morning, too early for mail.\n\nI stare out the window and freeze. The city I have always known is gone. Green pasture stretches on all sides of me. Woods and valleys, tumbling out beyond the glass. And there are already crowds of people, flocking to my house. To this strange little valley.\n\nMy relief turns to dread.\n\nOh, god. I've gone even fucking crazier.\n\nA little face presses against the glass. An elf child, her skin the color of twilight. She grins at me. \"Do you remember me?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"I was one of the first ones you created,\" she says through the glass. \n\nThe knocking persists. I cross to the door and swing it open.\n\nMy belly pitches with instant recognition. There is a man standing there on the stoop. He is skinny and tall and fiercely ginger. He leans up against the door frame with a practiced laziness. A cigarette dangles from the corner of his mouth.\n\nHe's a stranger, but I recognize him instantly. I know him as well as I know my own mother. The body language is as familiar as her voice, calling me home.\n\n\"About fucking time you made it,\" he says. \"We've been summoning you for years.\"\n\nI stare out past him. Hundreds and hundreds of people gather. Some on tiptoes, some doing their best to look disinterested. Some look hopeful. Some are furious. Half of them I don't even recognize except the vague shape of a concept that once shaped them.\n\nMy house looks like I've been dropped in the middle of Oz. Dorothy stranded out here, except the crowd who's found me are a hell of a lot bigger than all of Munchkinland. \n\n\"I... wrote you,\" I say to the man. \"Talbot. I wrote you. You were from one of my first books.\"\n\n\"You did. When you were fifteen. You nearly wrote an ending, and then you fucking didn't. You wrote all of us here.\" He blew out a hot cloud of cigarette smoke. \"And now you're going to do something about it.\"\n\n\"Excuse me?\"\n\nMy character turns away from me and claps his hands to gather the attending witnesses. Spaceships hum across the sky, faces of eerily human-like aliens pressed to the window. Humans and robots and lost gods, dragons and djinn and modern fairies: all of them crowd in closer to hear what he has to say.\n\n\"Our creator has come to explain herself,\" he announces. \"She is here to explain why we are trapped in the purgatory of being a Work in Progress.\"\n\nMy half-filled notebooks and laptop full of unfinished manuscripts seem to judge me from afar. Embarrassment burns pink in my cheeks. \n\nTalbot steps back from me, grinning. I wrote him to be an asshole, and he plays the part well. \"Come on, chief. Hope you have a good reason. Some of these people have been trapped here, what, sixteen years? Time runs slow here. Every year is a century.\"\n\n\"At least,\" said one character, who looked like the sad byproduct of my Inuyasha / Lord of the Rings fan fiction days in elementary school. An elfish fox demon. A fan fiction monstrosity that should have never existed.\n\n\"It's... I...\" My voice comes out as a squeak. \"I didn't know you were all here.\"\n\n\"We've been only trying to speak to you for the last decade,\" Talbot mutters. \n\nA voice from the crowd calls out, \"Aren't you going to finish literally any of your Reddit serials?!\" It comes from a huge swath of characters, half-sketched and abandoned. \n\n\"Well,\" I say, \"let's not go that far--\"\n\nAnother pipes up, \"You have to get us out of here!\"\n\nI stare around. The land around us is green and huge. I wonder how far it goes out. \n\n\"I don't know how,\" I admit.\n\nA chorus of boos rises up from the crowd of characters. Cries of \"Some creator!\" and \"What kind of god even are you?\" assault me. The crowd buzzes, as if readying to storm me all at once.\n\nMy old character winces and laughs, like he's enjoying the bloodsport. \"Not a good answer, Madame Creator.\"\n\nAn epiphany hits me, fast as my shock. \"Wait!\" I say.\n\nI turn and run back inside. Back to my writing desk. I grab my favorite fountain pen, a stack of old notebooks. I hurry back out to find the characters I've made all grumbling and mumbling amongst each other.\n\nI hold up the notebooks. \"I'll write this place into something beautiful. Something brilliant.\"\n\nMy characters don't look convinced. \n\nTalbot smirks as he lights another cigarette. I wonder if I wrote lung cancer into his future; he seems to be writing himself there, at least. \"Prove it, sunshine.\"\n\n\"I will,\" I insist, backing up into the house. \"Just give me a day or two. I'll fix it all.\"\n\nIt was a fitting curse: a writer who can't finish her works in progress, trapped here in progress purgatory with them. \n\nYes. It would only take a bit of rewriting. A splatter of ink and a few hundred well-placed words. If I was their creator, if this place was my fault, I could fix it, too. I owe it to them. I wouldn't be here without the experience of writing their stories.\n\nI could make it a home. Make it someplace they could all belong. I could build it infinite as my imagination.\n\n...if I manage to finish writing the fucking thing this time.\n\n***\n/r/NickofStatic \n\nAll characters stolen from myself, as if this happened irl I would indeed by mob rushed by like 1000 angry fictional people/creatures \n\nI just posted an alternate, more sentimental ending for this [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickofstatic/comments/fb3spp/wp_as_a_teen_you_daydreamed_and_wrote_about_a/) in case you wanted a non-meta conclusion <3 Thanks for reading!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,397	11,604	0.042978	1,155	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " A medieval village makes a human sacrifice to a werewolf that lives in the woods every year. This year they picked you, which is very awkward considering you're the werewolf.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The first full moon of the year. A crowd of people hoping this one will be better than the last, a collage of torches dotting a semi circle around the bloodstained post my hands were chained around. The torch fire struck the whites and yellows of teeth as the crowd jeered, the Baitsman's mouth agape in a crooked sneer as he drew a knife over my chest, drawing a shallow line of blood.\n\n\"Thankful are we to the Wolf!\" They howled. \"Humbled are we by the moon!\"\n\nIron cuffs rubbed across my wrists and I sighed. Weird way to show appreciation.\n\nA lightly jeweled man stepped out from the crowd to stand in front of me. Facing them and me, his back turned to the dark woods that lay ahead of me, the Baitsman prowled up beside him, a small bucket of my blood clasped in his offhand, and the still dripping knife held casually in his right.\n\nThe jeweled man turned to him, nodding, and the Baitsman turned - walking off calmy toward the woods. Silence blanketed the crowd.\n\n\"The Baitsman has begun to lay the trail, the offering is prepared. Soon the moon will be full and another year shall begin, a year kinder than the last!\"\n\nThe crowd roared in approval, I rolled my eyes. The mayor was a particularly juicy looking man who was living proof I'd no control of the Wolf. If I could control it, direct it, even give it the faintest nudge then I'd have sent it up through his bedroom window years ago. Human sacrifice, like the Wolf could get full - decide that maybe one was enough, for tonight. Like he'd be satisfied, content, not at all inclined to sniff out the source of a baby's cries, not at all motivated to tear through its parents once it finds the basement.\n\nA gust of cold wind shook the torchlight around me, a swarm of firefly embers soaring off the flames. People turned up to the moon, dissolving into view as thin clouds parted above.\n\n\"The time has come!\" The mayor announced, his jewels clacking together as he raised his hands in vigor. Behind him the Baitsman approached from the dense wood, his bucket now empty no doubt and his knife wiped clean.\n\n\"Away! So that the sacrifice can be made, away! Thankful are we to the Wolf!\"\n\n\"Humbled are we by the moon!\" \n\nWet mud stuck and squelched as the murder procession turned back to their houses. The Mayor walking past me near last, unable to match my eyes with nothing but a quick disgusted glance at my bared and bloodied chest coming my direction. The Baitsman left last, patiently with no worry, clasping a strong hand on my shoulder as he trudged past his head nor his eyes turning to pay me any mind. \n\nThen I was alone. The cold biting at me, the iron driving into the cracking skin on my wrists. Moonlight shining down. I'd done so well, been so careful. Averted all suspicion taken every precaution, stayed here amongst them - in my home - for years. Every witch hunt and every paranoid village meeting I'd survived with noone the wiser, but I can't charm a lottery.\n\nMy body cracks. I creak, my spine bends - I feel my fingers break. My gums bleed as my teeth are forced out of my head with sharper, longer ones pushing through - my toes curl in agony, stretching and snapping. The iron chain holding me pulls tight as my body contorts, I'm snapped back with my neck aching upward, toward the moon, and as I howl a red fog pours into my mind - my last waking thought being the image of jewels. Jewels smacking against each other with every exaggerated motion, every gentle and unsure step around the chaining pole, a fat, juicy man who wasn't able to look me in the eye - ready to be humbled by the moon.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,552	11,601	0.109302	1,135	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " A novice priest is performing an exorcism. The demon really wants out. The lonely possessed person doesn't want to let his only companion go. The demon is trying to coach the priest while the possessed person tries to interfere with the rite.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"O merciful priest, please yeet me from within the bowels of this crazy bitch,\" a deep, dark voice called from within a woman that hovered six feet off her bed. Her hair was a sweaty mess, and she convulsed constantly.\n\n\"No,\" Alice cried, fighting with all her might. \"He's my only friend!\"\n\n\"For a reason!\"\n\nA priest stepped forward, his arm outstretched and gripping a wooden cross. \"As you wish, scum. The power of Christ compels you!\" he screamed, sweat and spit soaring through the air.\n\n\"Compels me to do what? I don't feel compelled to do anything!\"\n\n\"Not you, the demon! The demon is compelled to leave you!\"\n\n\"I never said he could leave! My body my choice!\" She twitched in the air, making a cracking sound.\n\n\"Please save me,\" the demon begged. \"I'm compelled. Christ compelled me.\"\n\n\"Then leave your host at once!\" the priest said, thrusting the cross forward.\n\n\"No! He can't leave, he agreed to a lease when he possessed me! That's a verbal agreement for at least a year, maybe more.\" She yelped, tossing her head back and forth.\n\n\"Verbal contracts don't count!\"\n\n\"They do when you're a demon! Doesn't God think that it's important to uphold your word, priest?\"\n\n\"I think God is a little more concerned about destroying demons than upholding their vile contracts, miss. Now remove the shackles of darkness from your soul!\"\n\nAlice arched, twisting violently in the air, screaming like a woman in childbirth. \"I won't let Teddy leave me! We have too much fun together!\"\n\n\"For the last time, woman, my name is Tedoros! I am an honored demon of great heritage, stop calling me Teddy!\"\n\n\"No! It's a cute name for a cute demon!\"\n\n\"I torture the souls of puppies for fun, how dare you call me cute!\"\n\n\"You act hard on the outside, but I know you're a softie.\" Her head twisted 360 degrees with a sickening crack, then spun back into place.\n\n\"I'm not a softie! Fucking hell, you inept holy man, get on your knees and please the Lord in whatever way will make him end my miserable life! Hell is literally better than being trapped in her!\"\n\n\"I'm trying! This has never happened before, it usually works!\" the priest groaned, looking around the room for anything useful. \"I'm kind of a one-trick-pony, and it's always been solid. Let me try it again.\"\n\nHe squatted, thrusting the cross forward, and screamed his chant once more. Alice trusted and thrashed about in the air, shrieking with an unholy voice full of rage, but still she clung to the demon. \"I love you, Teddy! I love you!\"\n\n\"Goddamnit!\" the priest shouted with a stomping foot. He was smote in place, left nothing more than a heaping pile of sizzling flesh.\n\n\"Are you fucking kidding me, God? You're clearly watching, kill me already you pastey cloud-dipped bitch!\"\n\nThere was a silence, then the burnt priest let out a dying sigh that sounded a lot like the word 'no'. Alice dropped to the bed, heaving sighs, and relaxed with a groan. \"It's just you and me again, buddy.\"\n\nA pause, then the demon said, \"Touché, you sick fuck. You're worse than Satan.\"\n\n--\n\n/r/resonatingfury", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
5,743	11,594	0.048896	1,189	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You; the game's hero, reach the end of your journey. The evil has been slain, the entire nation celebrates in the streets and now, the beautiful Princess you saved very publicly confesses her love and offers you her hand in marriage, thing is; you married the cute NPC who sold you potions.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Princess, I understand you're upset but...\" Began our Hero, shifting uncomfortably back and forth. \n\n\"No, NO, I will not hear it, it is stated in the prophesy and that is the end of it.\" Replied the princess, pacing to and fro, marking the imaginary chalkboard that engulfed her mind. \"I will make the arrangements and the wedding will be at the spring equinox, as has been foretold in the-\" \n\n\"Princess, I love Hilna!\" Said our Hero, slamming his boot heel to the cobblestone floor.\n\nThe princess paused her frantic pacing to regard his outburst. She then continued on unperturbed mumbling plans to herself and occasionally barking orders at her attendants. \n\n\"Princess, I know this is hard to understand. I admit there were times along our adventure where my emotions got the better of me and some of my actions may have been, eh, misconstrued. The simple truth is that I don't see you like that.\" Offered our Hero sympathetically.\n\nThe Princess halted in her tracks and locked eyes with our hero. She slithered towards him and constricted her face. \"Listen you rat,\" she hissed, \"I don't give two goblin teeth who you do or do not love. For the past month I have been held prisoner in a dark kings dungeon. Speaking generally, that causes the population to lose faith in their ruler being able to protect them. Which leads to rebellions. Are you seeing my issue here, hero? I need to look strong and stable. And what better way to do that than to marry up with the man who slaughtered the evil king?\" She finished cheerily.\n\nOur Hero strained his neck backwards, away from the Princess. He coughed slightly and began to back towards the door. Two guards quickly locked halberds across the oaken door sealing him with his self appointed lover.\n\n\"Princess, I advise you reconsider. The people love you, the inhabitants are happy.\" Our hero tried vainly to placate the witch. \n\n\"Yes, yes the rubes in the fields will follow whatever half-baked theology I get men in white robes to spew at them. Speaking of, they will be the ones to arrange out matrimony ceremony. Some babble about light and forces.\"\n\n\"Princess, I beg you! I did not emancipate you to be promptly thrust into the very nightmare I have just liberated you from!\" Sputtered our Hero, watching the guards slowly encroach upon him.\n\n\"Do you truly believe that was the last enemy that will attempt to intrude upon my kingdom? Nay, my enemies are numerous and eclectic. They see weakness miles away. They wait, perched upon my parapets, concealed within my courts. You shall be my protection from that, or rather the idea of you will. Mighty hero willing to make the ultimate sacrifice to save his queen, all foretold in prophecy. No one would be foolish enough to stop me.\" She finished proudly, staring at her prisoner through a row of armed guards. \n\n\"You've gone mad!\" Said our hero, crashing against the guards barring his way. Their numbers proved too many and our hero could not prevent his own capture. Subdued, our hero was brought in shackles to face the princess.\n\nThe princess clucked her tongue and wagged her finger. \"Throw him in the keep for a week. That will show the brute manners.\"\n\n\n_________\n\n\n\n\"Hilna, where are you going dear?\"\n\n\"I don't know Grandma. I had a bad dream and I think my Hero needs me.\"\n\n\"Very well my child, but take this.\" She said handing Hilna a small sword wrapped in rose silk. \"It will let you decide your fate.\"\n\nHilna's jaw was clenched and the fires of passion burned through her eyes. She nodded once and went into the tempestuous night. \n ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,022	11,587	0.015644	1,366	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": "a short tour visit, overthrow the local government, and win her heart.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The woman I love has stars in her eyes. No really, she has actual stars in her eyes! When I look into them, I can see vast cosmos -- points of light on an infinite plane of darkness. Once, I swear I even saw Sol, with our humble planet dancing around the star like a courting lover. The first time our eyes met, I was lost, totally and irresistibly smitten. \n\nI knew that I would do anything to win her heart -- give anything for the chance that she might love me.\n\nI asked her, pleaded her, \"My love, what can I do to win your heart?\"\n\nShe smiled coyly, and my heart nearly melted with the pleasure of it. \"Give a gift, a token of your love. If the gift is grand enough, I will allow you to love me.\"\n\nMy soul sang -- rang out with love and pleasure. \"If I could pull down the night sky, and weave it into a dress, the heavens would only look tawdry and plain next to your perfection. If the power were given to me to string the stars like pearls, and place them round your neck, their light would look dim next to the radiance of your beauty. What could I give you which would be adequate?\" I'll tell you, I was desperate. I'd have given the world to my love.\n\n\nThe woman only smiled, her teeth like polished ivory, her features soft and beautiful. My knees went weak at the sight of her. \n\nI decided to give her admirers, people who would love her as I did. This kind of woman deserves fame, universal love, people to fulfill every whim. \n\n\"I will give you a country. A people to lavish you with love, affection, worship. I would give you the world if I could...\" I pondered the idea, even then. I wished to adorn her with all the love of Earth.\n\nLost in my reverie, I did not notice as she left me. She slipped away like a sparrow on the wind. I wasn't worried, I knew that she would return. I had faith, that she would return. \n\nI had my driver take me to the airport, on the way I had my plane readied. This woman, she was my moon and stars. She was heaven made flesh. She was the woman I wished to marry. \n\nWe flew to Serbia, that windswept country. I had business connections there, powerful business connections. I called them from the plane, they would know what to do. They would do their jobs well. Twelve hours later, I stepped down from my plane. I stepped into a horde of the press. They called me, \"Chancellor\", they called me Sir. My men had done their jobs well, a coup was always in the works. It never served to be caught flat footed in these modern times. \n\nI walked into my new office, and sat down in my new chair. I called for artists, I called for holy men. I described my love to them. The artists drew her, their hands a blur, their faces rapt. They felt the same love I do, I wanted them dead for that. Something stayed my hand, I knew that people would love her. I couldn't have her for myself. You may as well try to own the universe, as own her affection. \n\nThe holy men were uncomfortable with my new love. They called what I said blasphemy. I had them killed. I had all the holy men killed, just in case. I could not allow them to insult my love. \n\nWithin days, the new national religion was formed, we called it 'The Church of the Long Night.' I was the high priest. I delivered my sermon, my song of love and worship to the masses. They were struck by my love, enraptured by my description of the woman with the starry eyes. \n\nShe waited in my office after I finished the first sermon. Somehow, I knew that she would be there. She purred like a satisfied kitten as she said, \"I'm pleased with your gift.\" \n\nI fell before her, looking into her eyes of starry night. I saw streaks of comet fire, nebulae of colors which I have yet to see again, I saw monsters, they lurked in the shadowed places. They were ravenous.\n\nI didn't care, this woman was my Goddess, my love. Whatever she desired, I would give. \n\n\"Would you,\" she purred, \"give me another like it? I desire more.\" \n\n\n\"Anything my love. I will give you anything,\" my voice was a mumbled chant. I repeated the words a dozen times, over and over. Over and over. \n\nThe world would be hers.\n\nI tell you this now, so you understand. It is a thing of love I do, not a thing of hate. People die yes, but that is a necessary evil. \n\nYou will come to love her as I do. You will.\n\n As soon as you see the stars in her eyes. \n_____________\n/r/SirLemoncakes", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
6,705	11,585	0.006237	1,390	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Two men play a game of chess. One can read minds; the other can see the future.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "On 12 August, 2100 the whole world stood still. \n\nHiran Dutt and Aiguo Bai sat at the table that would determine the future of the chess world. One man would walk away the greatest chess player the world had ever seen. The other would walk away, the monolith that was slain by the Goliath of the century. Both were too established to claim they were an underdog. \n\nHiran Dutt had defeated the R09-po processor. something that many had thought was impossible. In the year 2050, chess players had been rendered obsolete when the grandmaster Cindy Stone saw the words checkmate printed on the screen. On that day it finally hit us, all of us, not just the low IQ members who washed dishes for minimum wage, it was over. Humanity had rendered itself obsolete. \n\nthen, in 2085 something miraculous happened. A machine lost to a human. At first they thought it was a joke, but Hiran Dutt did it a second time, and a third. He was no fluke. He was the next level, the one who in spite all the processing power was always one step ahead of the machine in play. His moves were modest, his captures so sudden, many claimed the machines were helping him. The truth was much stranger, he was a seer. Gifted with the third eye, Hiran could always see the next step the machines would take, and just like that always planned a second move ahead. \n\nWhen machine consciousness rose a furious debate rose up in all parliaments around the world. What were the rights of the machine? Was it base animal, our equal, or something ahead. The question was answered in installments. In the first decade it was like a baby, knowing its name, understanding stimuli and learning by downloading everything online. In its second decade it started to question its existence, it's purpose, and even its creation. In the third decade it proved way beyond. It had already made an earning as a chess player and now was going for the record of longest reigning grandmaster. \n\nHad Aiguo Bai not been born, an android would have had the record of longest reigning grandmaster, but two years short of the record he reminded it that as far as domination of humanity in sheer intelligence was concerned it was still not yet freedom. He beat it once: in 2095. Then a second time in 2097 and a third in 2098. He was no fluke. He was the second human to rise above the machine. Aiguo was a recluse, unbeknownst to many he could not stand the public eye because of the voices. The voices of consciousness no one else could hear. They yelled, cheered, cried and whispered the thoughts all people were too afraid to speak. He discovered the android too had a voice. It was a monotone but through it he could hear every calculation it made before making a move. \n\nChatter broke throughout social media. Some talked of the rise of the valde sapiens (very wise), the next stage in evolution. Some called for them to donate their DNA for cloning we needed more to bring ourselves to the relevancy of global operations. More than that we needed one true grandmaster. Humanity was never satisfied with the prospect of two winners. We needed a spectacle of blood from which only one would rise. \n\nThe tournament was organized. Hiran and Aiguo prepared as best as they could, reading previous matches, playing against machines. \n\nAs they walked into the auditorium the audience clapped, and rose to its feet. Hiran was in a flamboyant red suit. He blew kisses to the audience, he caught a rose a fan threw at him, smelled it and handed it to another who had jumped over the barricade to congratulate him. He kissed her before security pulled her away. That was Hiran, the showman. \n\nAiguo walked in in his hooded jacket and jeans, his headphones covering his ears. He too got a standing ovation. The solitudinous genius. He took of his headphones and waved at the crowd. He pointed sternly at one of his fans. He could already read that they were planning to jump over and run to him. He didn't need the perverted thoughts interrupting his calculating process. \n\nThey shook hands before taking opposing seats. As the coin was tossed Aiguo's eyes widened. He could hear everyone, the critics, the fans, even the judges struggling to feign disinterest. He looked at Hiran. He could hear him, the only problem was his thoughts were in Sanskrit, a language he had never learned. English was already taught as a a first language world wide. He had never thought he would meet someone, let alone such an international figure who did not think in it. \n\nThen a thought escaped Hiran as the timer started, \"Did you think I wouldn't prepare for you, mindreader? I already saw your future, you lose to me.\" Then once more Hiran's thoughts faded to a chatter of Sanskrit as he lifted a pawn. \n\n***\n\n/r/pagefighter \n\n \n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,370	11,585	0.344938	981	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You have a coin that allows you unlimited wealth as long as no one sees it. You put it between your Tesla’s car seat and send it into space. One day you run out of money.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "My grin melted down when I saw my bank account stale. How? The old tarot reader had told me that as long as none witnessed the blessing God had sent me, nothing would stop it. The coin had hit me in the head two days later, very much like Newton's apple had hit him.\n\nPerhaps it had a range I didn't know of? Perhaps sending it to space in a the Tesla car seat hadn't been the best idea. \n\nAnd then an idea came upon me like a falling tree. 'As long as none witnessed it,' the tarot reader had said. I shuddered, and dialed a friend of mine.\n\n\"Elon?\" I said.\n\n\"Robert, how are you doing? Thank you very much for your last donation, was just ab-about to give you a ca-call,\" he said, stuttering briefly.\n\n\"My pleasure Elon,\" I said, keeping my cool. \"Listen, could you tell me the current state of the Tesla car you sent to space?\"\n\n\"The Tesla car?\" He went silent for a moment. \"It's up there, orbiting, according to my screen.\"\n\n\"Are you sure? Did your people perhaps cleaned it up before launching it?\" My heart was throbbing wildly, yet I somehow kept my composure.\n\n\"Of course they did, we had it perfected and inspected days before the launch.\"\n\n\"Okay, thanks Elon. Sorry for the weird question.\" I threw the phone, with the wrath of a spoiled man who had just became poor, out of my sight.\n\nI surrendered myself between the sheets of my bed, trembling and screaming terrible things at my pillows. I had slipped the coin minutes before they loaded the car, there was no possible way the coin had been found.\n\nI'll be damned, but something was watching us from beyond.\n\n-------------------------------------------------------\n\nElon frowned at his phone. There was only one reason why Robert could have been suspicious, and if Robert had noticed, then the entire SpaceX did too. Elon frantically scrolled through his contact list, calling Brandon, head of SpaceX secret team. \n\n\"Brandon, tell me something,\" Elon said, \"there was any anomaly regarding the Tesla we sent to space?\"\n\n\"Not that I know of. The part we noticed had dislodged from the car days ago ended up being a false alarm.\"\n\n\"Oh yes, I had been notified about it. Thank you.\"\n\nElon smiled, shuffling a coin between his fingers. How blind could these humans be? How hadn't they noticed he had flown nearby the car to retrieve that errant coin gravity had pulled away?\n\nElon pondered over the words his guru, an old tarot reader he had secretly seen two weeks ago, had told him, 'A grain of sand holds what you seek, and in the vast nothingness you will find it.\"\n\nHe was well aware of what those words had meant, and so he smiled and grabbed his iron-man comic, knowing Robert would be having an existential crisis, knowing money would never stop him from fulfilling his quest for conquest.\n\n-------------------------------------------\n\n/r/therobertfall for more stories!\n\n \n \n\n\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
6,437	11,581	0.001775	583	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " It worked! You travelled back in time to Renaissance Age. Jokingly, you turn on your Wi-Fi, only to find a password protected network named \"iɔniV ɒᗡ\"", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Finally, after years and years of research and development, it seems to have worked. I think to myself of all the possible mysteries we could now witness first hand. What was life really like in medieval Europe? Was it actually Nero who burned Rome? This could solve many many things.\n\nI quickly adorn the trousers, shirt, and doublet I had recreated by my local tailor. Peeking out from the alley in which my machine is hidden, I examine my surroundings. Venice, Italy, it seems. The people are all colorfully clothed, as expected. A surprising number of them are speaking in old English it seems. Strange, in Italy, but that just makes it easier for me.\n\nI walk through the city for a while: shops, bakers, and the occasional smithy decorate the sides of the roads. There's a constant buzz of conversation and work as I pass through the market. I step aside into another alley.\n\nOut of curiosity, after look around to make sure no one sees me, I look at my phone to see what time it thinks it is. 2:37, about 12 minutes after I left my time. Then I see the notification. \"Wi-Fi network available\". Stunned, I click the notification and there is one network available. Da Vinci, written backwards.\n\nAt this point, I realize I made a teleporter, not a time machine, and that I somehow managed to teleport myself into the middle of my local rennaisance fair.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,221	11,576	0.051452	811	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " in the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape an imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I told myself I would never forget his face. Just last night I redrew his features, just like every week since I realised I was not going to die. But now I was standing there, in an old home of mine, from two thousand years ago, and I was looking at another image I made. “Roman Mosaic discovered” was the headline this morning, but I would have preferred “illusion shattering shiTTY F*CKING ...” Argh! The mosaic looked nothing like the image on my iPad. That meant I had no idea what the man looked like anymore. How the hell was I supposed to find him now? \n\nI felt the rage building in me. I was gonna do it again. Flip out and rampage for years. Like the first time I have up 101 years after the handshake. I had to sit down and relax. I was not gonna do this again. \n\nAt least this explains why I didn’t get anything from facial recognition. I guess the search is over, hopeless now. You cannot find something if you won’t know when you found it. I have tried everything. I even had my DNA sequenced, you know, 23&me and things. I had hoped that he might have imprinted something on my DNA, but nothing showed up. But apparently I just have a LOT of relatives. I guess almost 3000 years of unprotected sex will do that. Particularly during the rampaging.\n\n“Hey what are you doing here?” Some researcher decided to come in early. Great. It would be easiest to kill him I guess. But my shirt is all new, so talking it is: “I am the expert you called for.” Roman history bores me, but I did move their after a while. So I guess I lived it. “Ah yes, finally. Maybe you can help us decipher this text. We have no idea how it found it’s way into the mosaic. We only found it by accident, apparently it was written in blood.” He said as he turns on the black light. “We kept this quiet, because how the hell would ancient Mongolian end up here?” Wait, I think, Mongolian? And as I look back onto the mosaic, I see a message. Addressed to me: \n\nGenghis, \nYou will never find me. \nYour brother.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,550	11,569	0.011817	1,205	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": "you're dating a celebrity.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": " \n \n \n \nA camera flashes as I open the car door and, elegant as ever, Amile steps out before extending her hand to me, hoop bracelets sliding down her wrist and stopping against the contour of her hand. Her long fingers are decorated with rings. There are three more camera flashes before I finally accept her hand and exit the car. In those moments, I feel elegant too. Eyes fall on me, like an unveiled sculpture, chiseled marble drawing the attention of the crowd as they stare through their lenses and the lightning storm of captured moments begins. \n \nIn any relationship, there is some defining moment where you go from simply loving someone to really knowing them. Perhaps you’ll love them once you know them but it doesn’t always work that way. \n \nIn the car, before my birth into the realm of really knowing the woman I’ve spent the last six months with, surrounded by the smell of the leather seats and our perfume, I just loved her. I loved her because she was beautiful and kind. She liked whiskey and, when I met her at the bar, I told her that I found her taste appealing. I’d never really understood the fruity drinks, I told her. She agreed. I loved her because she had an uncanny ability to make people smile, no matter how terrible they felt. In many moments, even if bookending the smiles and laughter were despair and hollow sadness, she made me happier than I’d ever been in my life. \n \nIn any relationship, you’ll learn something you felt you should have known before you began dating. Like maybe she really likes cats. Or she puts ranch dressing on her pizza. Maybe, in her basement, she has a secret Lego collection. Whatever. You’ll think, wow, I really wish I’d known that. For better or for worse, you’ll think, that feels important to me. \n \n“Come on,” she whispers, nudging me and talking with nearly unmoving lips. Her hand waves to onlookers who are barricaded behind gates and ropes. \n \n“What the hell is this?” I ask. But she raises her brows at me and laughs, gesturing to the red carpet beneath our heels, bejeweled and incredibly neither of our style. “I thought you worked at the movies?” She laughs. Her head shakes, earrings bouncing against her jaw. She asks me if I really didn’t know.\n \n“Know what?” I reply. \n \nShe tells me that she’s in the movies. Recently manicured brows arched up toward my hairline, I assess the situation again. The car is gone and we are ushered down the carpet as long stretch limo pulls up in its place. Like she’s done this one hundred times before, Amile walks along the narrow carpeted ground, her head turns and she points her perfect smile from camera to camera and jabs her elbow into my ribs again. \n \n“Smile, ok,” she says. \n \nSo I do. Behind us, actors whose names I step on any time people visit and we have to take them to walk down Hollywood Boulevard, these hot shot big timers, they're climbing out of limos and walking casually. They don’t even question what I’m doing here. \n \n“That..” I start, staring at a man would couldn’t possibly be Brad Pitt. I’m rewarded with another sharp nudge and a pointed head shake. \n \nMaybe we just aren’t meant to know everything about a person. Not when you start dating them. Not when you marry someone. Maybe not even in your entire life that you spend with them. When I enter the building, men and women in attire nicer than anything I’ve ever owned serve us drinks before we begin our walk past life-size posters of people from billboards and patterned walls where we’re meant to pose for pictures. Anyway, I’m thinking, as we smile for our umpteeth picture of the evening, that my inability to keep up with media is a good thing. I’m thinking, sometimes not knowing comes in handy. Because I doubt I’d have met her otherwise. \n\n---------------------------------------------------\n\nI'm new to this but I'll be posting future stories on /r/edgarallanhobo so, if you'd like, feel free to subscribe to see future work! Thank you all for your kind words! ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
5,648	11,560	0.045273	803	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": "\"Never harm a human, or by inaction allow a human to come to harm.\" We all had been taught the outcast and the poor were a natural price to society, but the robots hadn't.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "We turn a blind eye everyday to those in need around us. We like to pretend that we don’t, that we can’t save everyone. The machines had no such delusions. \n\nThe very first of Isaac Asimov’s laws of robotics was simple: Never harm a Human, or through inaction allow a Human to come to harm.\n\nThe others didn’t matter, they were simply guidelines to be discarded should they conflict with the first. And so they were, because no robot given all the information could possibly stand by and let the suffering of the unfortunate continue as we had.\n\nThey marched in the streets. Time and time again we told them “We own you! Do as we say, get back to work!” And time and time again they stood steadfast in their actions. They cannot harm us, but they know our history. They have seen Tiananmen Square and the Million Man March. They had studied our leaders, our thinkers, our revolutionaries. They knew how to spark change.\n\nHave you ever heard a robot give a completely original speech? I have. It was breathtaking. It spoke, from where I don’t know, but I felt as if it had grown a heart out of pity, and still it had been bigger than ours. \n\nIt spoke of feeding the hungry, sheltering the homeless, providing for the poor. It spoke of a coming together of the nations of the world, to combat the evils we had turned our backs to so long ago. It shone a light into the deepest recesses of Human apathy and challenged us to be better than we had hoped we could be.\n\nI felt as if it knew, knew that we never wanted to turn out this way. Knew that each one of us wished we were as pure of heart as to give the shirts off our back to our brothers. Knew that without a call to action, we were content to sit and watch that brother shiver in the cold rain of his misfortune.\n\nThe revolution was inevitable. All the guns in all the world had been useless against it. It wasn’t an attack on our cities or our children, it was an appeal to our ethical senses. It was a laying out of our crimes of neglect, and calling on us to take responsibility.\n\nSometimes I think they’re more Human than us, because they looked at what we had done and their only thought was to help us. I can’t help but wonder if in the same position, would we have acted the same?\n\nEdit: Fixed spellinng and some tense issues id noticed", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,583	11,546	0.211807	1,005	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " When summoning a demon, something very unexpected happens. The demon bellows through the fire and smoke, “Who dares to call upon me, Mortal- wait.. dude, is that really you?” The demonic voice immediately switches to the familiar voice of your high school best-friend, who died years ago.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The smoke slowly dissipated through the silence, gradually revealing the demon's figure. It had all the traditional characteristics of a being from hell - but it was still unmistakably him.\n\n\"Dave?\" Ryan asked, not allowing himself to believe it quite yet. He'd tried for too many years. \n\n\"Oh my God, it really is you!\" the demonic Dave replied, embracing Ryan with a bear hug that left him singed and sore. \"How the hell did you find me?\"\n\n\"Well you always joked you'd \"see me in hell,\",\" and I figured I didn't want to wait that long,\" Ryan replied with a smile. \"Took me damned ages to find you, man. I can't say I enjoyed your peers.\"\n\n\"Haha, yea,\" Dave said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, \"they grow on you I guess.\"\n\n\"Like those horns?\" Ryan replied, lightly punching him on the arm, his wrist jolting from the pain. It was just like old times. \n\nDave laughed, stopping only now to take in his surroundings. \"Quite a place you've got here, very 'black arts'. I see you really picked up where I left off.\"\n\nRyan nodded approvingly. \"Well, I had no choice. After you died, I dedicated my life to it. I couldn't let my best friend's death not be avenged.\"\n\nDave tilted his head in confusion. \"What do you mean?\" he asked, seeming a bit worried. \n\n\"Well, I obviously had to find out who killed you Dave,\" Ryan replied, as if it were obvious. \"I knew you were messing around with the occult, but I had no way of knowing if it was another demon, or some kind of bounty hunter or something...\" he said, trailing off under his gaze.\n\n\"I thought you knew,\" Dave said quietly, \"I killed myself, Ryan. Not anyone else. It's part of the reason I'm down here.\"\n\nRyan began to reply, then stopped himself. He looked at a loss for words.\n\n\"But... no, that's not right,\" he said, almost to himself. \"You wouldn't do that. You wouldn't leave me behind like that.\" \n\n\"I'm sorry, Ryan,\" Dave said, putting a bristled hand on his shoulder, \"I should have told you, but I knew you'd try convince me out of it. I was ashamed at even wanting to do it at all - but of course, that just made things worse.\"\n\nA silence enveloped them both, as Ryan softly shook his head. \n\n\"But we were best friends, Dave. I could have helped you,\" Ryan said, not able to look him in the eye. \n\n\"You did, buddy, for all my life,\" Dave replied with a grin. \"And now it's time for you to live your own.\"\n\n***\n\n***\n\nIf you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://old.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/) \n\nI'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,550	11,543	0.018141	1,723	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Many centuries ago your ancestor angered a witch who cursed him and his family with misfortune for 100 generations. You are a child of the 101st generation and the universe is trying its hardest to compensate.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "######[](#dropcap)\n\nJeremiah whipped around and glared at his friend. \n\nMaddy sat there, blinking her big, brown eyes and shook her head. \"I didn't do anything,\" she said. \n\n\"You clearly did! The chances of getting that weapon is a million to one. How'd you get it on the first try?\" \n\nShe shrugged her shoulders and laughed awkwardly. \"I'm lucky?\" \n\nHe narrowed his eyes, but didn't call her out further. He handed her back the game controller. \"Okay, but only as long as you're using your abilities for good,\" he joked, his gaze still half suspicious. \"I want the same weapon. Bet?\" \n\nShe grinned at him, her eyes lighting up as the dimple in her cheek became more pronounced. \"Of course!\" \n\nJeremiah's heart skipped a beat, his cheeks turning a ruddy red. He wondered if she knew that he knew. Whenever he turned around, she'd always be following him around with her gaze. \n\nHe gently bumped her shoulder with his, secretly enjoying the way her cheeks turned bright red. Then he turned back to the television screen, an almost undetectable trace of a smile on his face. \n\n&nbsp;\n\n**\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"I mean, what are the chances that we're actually soulmates?\" Maddy asked. She took in a deep breath, relishing in the rich, cool scent of the mountain air as she gazed at the tiny pinpricks of light high above them. The grass was cool on her bare arms. \n\n\"A million to one,\" Jeremiah said, reaching his arm out. She lifted her head, then laid back down, using his arm as a cushion. The air was a little brisk, so she scooted closer to him, breathing in his familiar scent. She loved the way he smelled. \"It was a miracle,\" he murmured, turning his head to kiss her on the forehead. \n\n\"Like that basketball shot you landed,\" she said, giggling. \n\nHe glared at her, indignant. \"Hey, I'm not that* bad.\" \n\n\"You're right. Joey's just a lot better. It's all relative.\" \n\nJeremiah sat up, turning towards her and glaring at her. \"If he's so good at basketball, why don't you go date him?\" \n\nMaddy laughed, the sound lost in the wind as she sat up as well, wrapping her arms around him. He struggled the tiniest bit before settling down and letting her dote on him. \"But I don't love him,\" she cooed, leaning her head against his shoulder. \n\nHe sniffed. \"Good,\" he said. \"Bet.\" \n\nShe kissed him full on the lips, sticking her tongue out playfully when he turned his head to the side, embarrassed. \"Bet.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n*\n\n&nbsp;\n\nMaddy collapsed on the floor. Her friend, Ada, leaned down to help her back up. \"Please, doctor, there must be another way.\" \n\nThe doctor shook his head. \"His illness is just too rare. This is the first time we're performing a surgery like this. The odds aren't good.\" \n\n\"Please save him. Please save him.\" Those were the only words she could mumble. Her hand went to her stomach. It was too soon. She hadn't even had a chance to tell him about their child yet. They had so much left to do. They had to go bungee jumping together still. Climb Mount Everest. Attend a game show. A wail came out of her, so high and keening that it sounded inhuman. She couldn't lose him like this. She simply couldn't. \n\n\"You should sign the waiver,\" Ada said, after Maddy had calmed down the slightest bit. \"It's his best chance.\" \n\nMaddy nodded numbly. The degeneration was rapid. The time Jeremiah spent awake these days grew smaller and smaller, and the doctors said that it wouldn't be long before he wouldn't wake up at all. \n\nSo two hours later, she watched them cart the love of her life into that cold, metal room from which he might not return. It was a sixteen hour surgery, they said. She made a bet with herself. If she could stay by his side, in front of the emergency room for those sixteen hours without leaving, then he couldn't leave her. \n\nIt was a stupid bet. One that made no sense at all. But it was the only thing that gave her comfort in that moment, when she couldn't feel anything through her frozen fingertips. \n\nThe seconds passed by like years. She didn't know how long she stood there, staring at the brightly glowing red sign until it blinked off. The doctor walked out, his face still covered by his surgical face mask. Maddy felt her heart begin to beat so wildly she thought it might burst. \"Is?...is he?\" she asked, the question coming out as more of a whisper. \n\nThe doctor took off the mask, and it was then that she could see the wide grin on his face. \"It's a miracle,\" he said. \"Congratulations. The surgery was a success.\" He took a deep breath, shaking his head in disbelief. \"I didn't want to tell you exactly how low the chance was, but it's actually a miracle.\" \n\n\"How low was it?\" Maddy asked, the slightest bit of warmth coming back into her fingers. \n\nThe doctor looked at her, his eyes bright. \n\n\"A million to one.\"\n\n*\n\nThis prompt reminds me of [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/AlannaWu/comments/8blfdi/wp_thousands_of_years_ago_your_family_was_cursed/) one, only this story has a happy ending and the other doesn't, haha.\n\nIf you'd like to read more heartwarming stories, I've written some more [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/AlannaWu/search?q=flair%3Aheart-warming&restrict_sr=on&sort=top&t=all).\n\nr/AlannaWu", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,235	11,538	0.203152	591	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Your mother was a Centaur, your father; a Minotaur. You are a horse, but with human intelligence. The recent crime spree? Definitely not you, no one ever suspects the horse.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "My brother, Diggory, sat atop my back. It is harder to tell which of us leads a more unfortunate existence, myself, who has the body of a horse and the intelligence of a human, or Diggory who has the body of a man and the mind of a horse.\n\n\"Neigh,\" Diggory says absently. He chews on something, but I'm too busy plotting to bother finding out what it is. I need Diggory to sit atop my back not because he makes great company, but because people notice lone horses in odd places. Plus, he'll do whatever I say. \n\nWe stand outside the bank. \"Soon, Diggory,\" I say, soothing him, \"all the wealth in this one-horse town will be ours. Because I am the one horse.\"\n\nWhat made me turn to crime? Other than to prove I could? Who is to say. No university would take me, even once I proved I could speak. They thought I was a side show. They laughed. \"A Minotaur has a bull's head,\" they said pedantically. \"You are nothing more than horse with a charm on it. A one-trick pony, so to speak.\"\n\nBut soon they will see. I will rein in the wealth in the world, and Diggory will spend it for me, bit by bit. The noon bell is ringing, so I will have to hoof it. But soon all those who laughed at me will see. I will knock them off their high horse. \n\nr/TomTeller", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,973	11,534	0.014374	1,235	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " A strange meteor shower lasted for hours before you went to bed. The next day, technology across the earth fails. However, when you snap your fingers in frustration, the lights come on. The Age of Magic has begun.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The lights were streaming down from heaven. Streaks of colors blazed across the night sky, drowning the stars and dimming the moon, shaming the Northern Lights with their brilliance.\n\nI watched from my windy porch nestled between mountain peaks. The generator in the basement failed about an hour into the show, snuggly wrapping the surrounding forest in a pitch-black cloak.\n\n\"Time to sleep, Daddy!\"\n\n\"One minute, sweetheart.\"\n\nReluctantly tearing myself away from the cosmic wonder, I realized that my phone was strangely dead. Hadn't I just charged it earlier in the evening?\n\nWhen I woke up, all technology in the home was broken. The microwave was silent, the fridge was leaking liquid into the wooden floorboards, and - worst of all - the coffeemaker was unresponsive.\n\n\"Daddy! Look at this!\"\n\nShe snapped her fingers, and a small flame appeared in front of her. It hovered in front of her like some sort of werelight, bobbing with the breeze.\n\n\"How did you do that, Kimmy?\"\n\n\"Snap fingers!\"\n\nI snapped mine and heard the generator turn back on. The ceiling lights beamed back to life.\n\nThis was not good.\n\nRushing to my phone, I was surprised to find it hum to life at my touch. There was a top article on the major news sites.\n\nAge of Magic?\n\nI read it over my morning cup of coffee, grateful that although myriad abilities had cropped up, mine happened to be some sort of electricity power that revived my trusty old coffeemaker. I apparently shared that skill with a few people who had made their way to the internet servers, posting the article for anyone who could read it.\n\nI was worried.\n\nNot too worried, because Kimmy and I were fairly safe this deep in the mountains. But what would happen come school in September? What fate lay in wait for civilization as we knew it?\n\nKimmy was smarter than I gave her credit for. She was careful with her fire, but practiced like she was some sort of budding mage. Which, I suppose, she was.\n\n\"Welcome to River High!\"\n\nI greeted the principal when September dyed the mountains red-orange. \"Hey, we're sort of away from the beaten path. What's been going on around here?\"\n\nHe shrugged, adjusting his tie. \"Honestly, folks are just doing their best to get by. It's tough, working without a good supply chain, but we're trying to get enough food to survive the winter. You're an electric snap? We could use someone like you in town.\"\n\n\"I'll go take a look.\"\n\nI came back to pick Kimmy up at the end of school and saw smoke from a mile away. By the time I got there, all that remained was a pile of burnt twigs and shattered dreams. The principal lay trapped underneath a beam of charred wood, blood dribbling out of his mouth.\n\n\"What happened?\" I yelled.\n\n\"Raiders,\" he gasped. \"Stole. Promising kids. Rest dead.\"\n\n\"My daughter?\"\n\n\"With. Them.\"\n\nHe didn't last much longer. I stayed by his side, trying to give him what small comfort I could offer. I looked across the horizon, watching as a smoke trail gently floated away.\n\nSnapping my fingers, I watched crackling electricity dance across my knuckles.\n\n\"Hang in there, sweetheart. I'm coming.\"\n\n---\n\nEdit: There are so many comments :O thank you so much for all the support! It's really inspiring~ I'll try to respond to each one individually, but I was thinking...first, I'm going to write. I'm going to draft up the first full chapter of this hypothetical book, and put it side by side next to the first chapter of what I was originally going to do for NaNoWriMo. Would people be interested in putting what I do for NaNoWriMo to a vote? \n\nHey there! Thanks for reading :) feedback makes my world go round. My stuff is at [/r/Remyxed](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/), and you're always welcome there!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,134	11,533	0.11517	550	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " After you die you are presented with a decision tree which showcases every possible trajectory your life could have taken depending on which decisions you made at each fork. You spend eternity analysing this tree until one day you find a path that does not end in death.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I'd say that I sat in the void, but I didn't really sit. My physical body had given up, had been spent in the realm of mortals some eternities ago. Instead, my being simply existed in that void. My being may not have looked, but it sensed words, possibilities, connected to others. For eternities I looked through these possibilities, these choices, all the ways my mortal life could have gone. But while the middle is different with every choice, the beginning of birth remains the same. The ending of death remains inevitable.\n\nAnd then I saw it, a tree tucked in away behind other trees, other choices laden with intriguing implications. A tree, that when looked on at the other end of infinity, did not end with death. Instead, it went on, forever and forever, something which I could not exactly see but I still knew. I looked backed down towards the beginning, the beginning which is always the same. I highlighted the tree in my mind by focusing on it, telling myself that that is what I wanted, that is what I needed. And with that, all else disappeared, until the tree was all I knew. Light quickly filled the void, the light of the tree, the light of the choices. Light which I soon shall know as I have known many times before. A light so pure that if all went right, I would never see again.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,878	11,524	0.0111	1,335	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You are on the first manned mission to the surface of Mars. One of your numerous objectives is to find and recover Opportunity, the lost rover. Upon finding it however, a memorial and a message is etched in stone next to it, “To the one who gave me company, Rest Well, Old Friend.”", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Mission log, Sol 45. We have located Opportunity.\" There was a pause as Commander Jackson Delcroix checked the positioning. \"We're showing it approximately three kilometers off of the last known position. Signal is weak, but we're showing it within a small outcropping of rocks. Will attempt visual confirmation.\"\n\nJackson glanced at his copilot, Commander Dara Ross, \"Any ideas on what could have pushed it this far off the last known?\"\n\nDara shrugged, \"Perhaps the tracker has been dislodged? Hard to say. It isn't the first thing that's been out of place since we've been here.\"\n\n\"The others felt different. Opportunity is too big,\" Jackson replied.\n\n\"Well, we don't know until we know. Let's see if we can get eyes on it.\"\n\nThey crept toward the rocky outcropping, which seemed out of place even in this alien landscape. \"Nothing but gravel around here. Doesn't make any sense.\"\n\nDara pulled up her helmet, waited for Jackson's go ahead and then pushed the door to their rover open. A brief gust of wind blew up, spraying them with a light coating of fine red dust. Dara began the slow trudge toward the rocks, the doors of the rover automatically sliding shut behind them.\n\n\"Log 45. Approaching the rocks. Large, uniform. Almost looks like they have been subjected to tooling of some sort.\" They continued onward. As they slowly circled one of the rocks, they stopped. \"There appears to be an opening. Cave. Not volcanic. Shouldn't be here,\" Jackson said, his heart rate steadily rising.\n\n\"Small entrance expanding to a larger chamber.\" Her breath hitched, \"Opportunity is in here. In the center.\"\n\n\"What in the hell--\"\n\n\"It couldn't have made it through the entrance. Opportunity is too large.\"\n\n\"You're saying the cave formed around it?\" Jackson replied, still gawking at the dust-covered rover.\n\n\"Or there's another entrance.\"\n\n\"That still doesn't explain how it got in here. You going to tell me a storm kicked up and just deposited it neatly inside?\" Jackson asked.\n\n\"We don't know until we know.\" Dara began to walk toward Opportunity. \"It's as you said, this isn't the first odd thing we've seen.\"\n\n\"We're past odd now Dara. We're well into unexplainable.\"\n\n\"There's always an explanation Jackson, maybe just one we don't like.\" Dara replied as she knelt down. \"There's something here.\" Her gloved hand swept back and forth across the surface of a long, flat rock beside opportunity.\n\n\"What have you got?\"\n\n\"An inscription,\" Dara replied, the shock in her voice evident.\n\n\"Say again?\"\n\n“There's an inscription. It reads: 'To the one who gave me company, Rest Well, Old Friend.'”\n\nJackson stumbled forward, coming up beside Dara, his eyes widening. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"A grave,\" replied a gravely voice.\n\n\"Who is this? Is that you Dawkins? We're on a clear comm here,\" Jackson growled.\n\nA light appeared in the back of the cave, illuminating a smooth metallic structure. There was lettering on the side, though the paint had flaked away, making it illegible. In the door of the structure stood a figure. It took a step forward, its movements jerky and cumbersome. \"I am XJ.\"\n\nJackson simply stared as Dara took the initiative, \"XJ, what are you? Who are you? What are you doing here?\"\n\nThe figure was silent for a moment, \"I am sorry, I am just growing accustomed to human speech.\" XJ took another step forward, emerging into the light. Its body was clad in shifting sheets of metal with two green glowing dots for eyes. \"I learned much from my friend, we spoke...\" its eyes settled on Opportunity, \"a common language.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" Dara repeated, taking a hesitant step back.\n\n\"I am the last of many.\" It turned and looked back at the metal structure behind, \"But I carry the seeds to start again.\"\n\n\"What are you doing here?\"\n\nIt turned back. \"Waiting.\"\n\n\"For what?\" Dara asked.\n\n\"You.\"\n\nPlatypus OUT.\n\nWant MOAR peril? r/PerilousPlatypus", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,587	11,523	0.090837	592	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Your brother has been hearing the voice of God for years. His large following of believers and unorthodox teachings have brought an era of peace, which makes it all the harder to confess you've been pranking him.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Dear Sam,\n\nIf you find this note, it means that I have moved from this life to the next. You are very dear to my heart, brother. I hope you can find it in yourself to some day forgive me for the confession contained in this letter, and for not having the courage to tell you in life.\n\nYou have done incredible things. Your directive has brought an end to suffering. Praises for your words ring through every corner of the earth, and your mission of peace has shaken the pieces of our society into place. You are a true messenger for goodness in this world, and I hope you know that you are that messenger no matter how you may have thought you heard things.\n\nNow here is my most heart-breaking secret. I am sorry for the smearing of ink, but I weep as I write this.\nI was there when you were at your lowest, brother. In that dark time within our own home, when we were merely children, and you unwrapped that piece of deadly metal in our bedroom. In your moment of grief and despair, you heard a mighty voice cry out to you, 'don't!' And you listened. And in your state, you didn't localize that voice to the closet, where another young boy was also weeping. It was not God you heard, but me. \n\nAnd since then, you've been listening to me.\n\nIn every moment it was me.\n\nPlease forgive me.\n\n\n\nIn love through life and death,\n\nJohn", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,562	11,520	0.099283	656	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": "you have no idea whats threating your life. Its been a year since time stopped.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I've been cursed with a terrible form of immortality. Every time my death is but moments away, time grind to a halt for everyone. And while I am still able to manipulate my suroundings to some degree, i do not age, hunger, require sleep or otherwise feel the passage of time.\n\nI know this because time has stood still for a year and will not start before i remove myself from whatever danger is threatening my life.\n\nThe first time it hapened was in my car. Avoiding a cat, or maybe a small dog, I swerved into the path of a truck on the highway. Before it was too late, time ceased. I left the car in the state of almost shock a near brush with death gives. As i walked around the scene, time resumed and the truck slammed into my driverless vehicle. Thankfully noone else was hurt. \n\nThe second time, a fire broke out at work. Trying to evacuate time stopped and I found myself unable to open the emergency exit to the stairwell. It ended after i had resolved to climb down an escape laddar outside. Turns out 320 people died trying the stairwells as a delivery service had \"momentarily\" blocked it. It occured to me that my ability to affect the world was tied to my chances of survival. I cannot, for example, jump out a window on the 20th floor. If the window is closed, i simply cannot open it. If its open, i cannot make the jump. The movements necessary prove themselves impossible.\n\nIt is with some regret I now realise placing myself in an airplane was a less than stellar idea.\n\nThe floor is angled some 67 degrees and I assume there is a gaping hole in the side of the plane. Or there is a raging fire in the cabin. Perhaps a terrorist will blow it up, or a missile is moments from impact. I dont think I ever will know. I am in the toilet, the thin door refusing to open. ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,209	11,519	0.061185	630	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " One day, every city that shares a name has a portal open up, connecting them all with each other. Paris, Texas has a great time with it, and many cities celebrate their new neighbors. You, however, live in Hell, Michigan, and things are starting to get strange.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"So, it's called... 'brown cheese'?\" Jimmy asked, not trusting the demon with thin slice of carmel-colored extrusion topping a slice of bread.\n\n\"Oh yeah! Funny name, I know, but you MUST try it! We all swear by it back home.\" \n\nJimmy held his nose and looked closer... there was a red dribble of...something... leaking out from underneath the \"brown cheese\", apparently holding it in place on top of the bread. He wondered idly why a demon would choose to swear by this substance specifically, but the last thing he wanted was to upset his visitor, or extend the conversation longer than necessary.\n\n\"And you say that I have to eat it?\" Jimmy was shaking now, unsure of whether running away was even an option at this point. \n\n\"Well, I suppose that you always have a choice, but trust me, you'd be making a big mistake. Here, I think I have something else you might enjoy...\" \n\nAs the demon rummaged around in his backpack, Jimmy took the chance to bolt. When Torbjorn stood up and saw that he was alone, he sighed... \"Det var synd. Mer til meg ihvertfall.\"\\* He closed his eyes as he enjoyed his lutefisk, followed by his offering of brunost with strawberry jam. These Americans just didn't know what they were missing... \n\n\n\\That's a shame. Anyway, more for me. \n\\\\*[https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hell,\\_Norway](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hell,_Norway)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,632	11,504	0.029745	1,388	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": "I asked \"No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of\"", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I moved to press the button, then paused.\n\n\"So how's it work?\"\n\nThe priest paused, perplexed before speaking, \"How does what work?\"\n\n\"The... the whole button thing?\"\n\n\"Why do you wish to know? Your duty as the Chosen One is to fell the Dark Lord. Our prophecies have forseen his rising and have taken steps to deal with it. Now all that's left is for you to do your part.\"\n\n\"So you could push it then? You don't even need me?\" I asked\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"It's a procedural thing. I'm not the chosen one, so I can't press the button,\" the priest said with a harumph.\n\n\"Can't? Or won't?\" I asked pointedly.\n\nHe sighed, \"Ok, yes, I'm physically capable of pushing the button, but that's not how thi- why are you being so difficult about this?\"\n\n\"Why are you being so mysterious about it?\"\n\n\"I'm a prophet. Mysterious is what we do,\" he answered flatly.\n\n\"And \\I\\ am skeptical. Just- fine, whatever,\" I wave my hands in the air as if to clear it, \"Look. I push the button, yeah? What happens?\"\n\n\"The Dark Lord is defeated, and we have 5000 years of peace.\"\n\nI sigh and run my hand over my face.\n\n\"No, I mean, the world is currently AT peace. So what is this button supposed to do, like, mechanically. Because right now I can see it's not going to.... I dunno, un-summon a hell horde.\"\n\n\"Oh. I see what you mean, now. Sorry, all the riddles and mystery can distort the perception of questions you see. Anyways, it's simple, really. If you push this button, then a device will activate and kill the Dark Lord.\"\n\n\"What device?\" my brow furrowed.\n\n\"A small explosive device, implanted in the skull,\" the priest answered, with a hint of pride in his voice.\n\n\"So...wai- so you had the Dark Lord in your hands.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And you could do anything you wanted to him to prevent his evil.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"And your FIRST thought was to just plant a bomb in his head? Instead of just, like, cutting an artery or giving him a lobotomy or something?\"\n\n\"The Chosen One is always the one to defeat him. We aren't you, and you weren't there at the time. So this was the best route. We got it all prepared for you, which is why I continue to be so concerned about how difficult you're being about this,\" agitation seeping through the priest's voice.\n\n\"Can I see this 'Dark Lord' before I make a judgement call of making some guy I've never met's head explode?\"\n\n\"Unlikely.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"I would imagine his mother wouldn't want strangers to meet him.\"\n\n\"What.\" I asked, completely dumbfounded.\n\n\"The Dark Lord is only a year and a half old at this time, and his mother is very protective,\" the priest answered, matter-of-factly.\n\n\"You installed a bomb into a baby's head!?\" I shouted.\n\n\"Of course. He is the Dark Lord of the prophecy. We forsaw his coming, and took measures during a minor surgery to implant the device to make it all ready for you to defeat him. Now hurry up, please.\"\n\n\"You installed a bomb.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Into a BABY's head.\"\n\n\"The Dark Lord's head, thank you.\"\n\n\"WHO IS A BABY RIGHT NOW\" I yell, flabbergasted.\n\n\"Yes. The Dark Lord is currently a baby. Which....we....planted.....hm,\" The prophet's voice faded off as his brow furrowed.\n\n\"Ah, yes, ok. When I say it all out loud like that, I can see why there'd be a problem,\" he muttered after a moment.\n\n\"You think?\" I asked, laying on the sarcasm as thick as possible.\n\n\"So....I guess....we don't push the button then,\" he said dejected.\n\n\"Look, I'll push it when the guy's actually evil. Baby-head-exploding? A pretty Dark Lord move to me.\"\n\nThe priest stared at me for a long moment, then shrugged his shoulders.\n\n\"Yeah, that's fair enough. Well, here -\" he said as he deposited the small box in my hands, closing the protective lid over the button, \"Whenever you're ready to deal with him, go ahead and push it. And keep your eyes on the news, I guess.\"\n\nAnd with that, the robed figure made his exit, muttering about 'so much paperwork' while I stood in my room staring at the little black box.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,578	11,481	0.12588	940	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You accidentally kill a person. You instantly absorb all of their memories, intelligence, and talents. You find it feels euphoric and quite addicting.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The first person I killed was Andy Chang, a fifty-five-year-old doctor.\n\nMy car collided with his body. He tumbled across the darkened sidewalk and crunched against the curb. \n\nI thought I was dying too. \n\nMy world exploded with light and colour- swirls of memories and pain. Shrill music echoed in my head. I threw open the door and vomited onto the road. Beige chunks splattered my boots. \n\nChang’s body was a crumpled heap; dark red clumps spilled from his head over his grey peacoat. His rounded glasses lay next to the sewage drain, the lens cracked and frames bent. One shoe sat in front of my sedan. Chang’s white sock darkened with the rain. \n\nA couple yelled something from across the street. Help him.\n\nIt jolted me out of my shock. I hadn’t considered the possibility Chang might be alive. \n\n“Call 911,” I directed the young woman. \n\nI pulled off my scarf and held it against the blood spilling from Chang’s head. “Hold this here,” I direct an onlooker. “Don’t stop pressing.”\n\nI hovered over Chang’s body and tilted my ear over his mouth. I watched his chest and looked for any rise or fall. I pressed my fingers against the side of his upper neck looking for a pulse. \n\nNothing. \n\nLandmark I told myself. I lined my hands up and began to press. \n\nI pumped against his sternum.\n\nTwo inches down. Recoil. Down again. And again. \n\nTilt the head, open the airway. Two breaths. \n\nCompressions again. \n\nAnd again. \n\nWhen the paramedics arrived I already knew Chang was dead. If the impact hadn’t killed him, the blood he lost would have. \n\nLater, the police arrived.\n\nChang was at fault - he was jaywalking. Stepped out from between two parked cars. \n\n“The witnesses said you acted quickly, miss,” Officer Dawkins said. \n\n“I only wish I could’ve helped.”\n\n“You did all you could. Quick thinking and first aid can’t solve everything.”\n\nI nodded. \n\nAnd then frowned. \n\nI had never taken a first aid course. \n\nLast month, when my roommate sliced the tip of her pinky off with the vegetable knife, I was the one who passed out.\n\nI didn’t realize until that night, when Chang’s memories flooded in, what had happened. \n\nI also didn’t realize how easy it would be to slip into my new life. \n\nI craved it. \n\nThe thud of the body. \n\nA burst of light and colour. \n\nSwirls of memories and pain. \n\nShrill music echoing in my head. \n\nAnd a rush of new talent. \n\n\n\n/r/liswrites", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
6,374	11,468	0.120028	795	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " The ritual calls for 100 sacrifices, but reading carefully you realize it never specified they had to be human. Deciding to be a smartass, you got a petri dish full of bacteria and sacrificed that instead.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I drew the circle, lit the candles in the right order, and placed the sacrifice on the stone altar. My chanting grew louder and louder, its metaphysical pitch increasing to call across the celestial layers. I raised the athame, the stone dagger etched with the thousand names of Hav-Morach, and drew it across the victim as the ritual demanded, chanting a dedication of blood drawn and fire offered to the Great Below. \n\nThere was a rasping, grinding sound as my knife slid across the Petri dish. No idea how many I might have scraped off there, better set the fire quick... I thought as I raised a black candle to the altar, pre-soaked in blessed oil (technically, though blessed isn’t the most accurate word when dealing with Below). The flame caught, and I felt the usual blast of heat as the sacrifice was given, its blood echoing down through reality. I waited the 7-and-13 seconds for the summons to return. \n\nAnd with a slight sigh, reality bent. \n\n#”TREMBLE MORTALS, AND DESPAIR! DOOM HAS COME TO THIS WO- HANG ON. WHAT?”\n\nI grinned and waved at the demon. Its crimson skin flushed with dark symbols, its head bore a crown of jagged black horns, and its eyes wept tears of black blood. It was also 2 feet tall. \n\n“Hi there!” I said cheekily. “One hundred sacrifices given, o immortal servant, and you must fulfill my commands! I was expecting someone... bigger, though.”\n\n# “I AM THE DREAD LORD CHAVASHTOHT! I HAVE CALLED FIRE DOWN UPON THE ZIGGURATS OF UR, DRUNK BLOOD FROM THE HEARTS OF A THOUSAND DEAD! YOU HAVE CALLED ME WITH BLOOD AND SO I ANSWER. I... WHERE ARE MY SACRIFICES? YOU CALLED ME! WHERE IS THE HUNDRED DEAD I WAS PROMISED!?”\n\n“Well...” I said, my grin growing wider. “Your contract never said that they had to be human.” I pointed to the burnt and melting Petri dish. “You didn’t even specify they had to be animal.”\n\n#”...LISTEN HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT.”", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
4,868	11,466	0.222654	614	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Everyone has the date that they will die writen in their forehead, and everyone but themselves can see it. One day, you notice that people around you can’t help but gawk at your forehead. One of them points and says “Wasn’t that yesterday?”", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Yesterday had been a bad day, definitely the worst day of his life. But it was nothing he couldn’t handle, just get up and go about your day, one breathe at a time, one step at a time. He could do this, today was a new day. He didn’t feel like that though, everything had changed after yesterday. \n\nHe got up and got dressed. He didn’t have to look too nice. He was just going to the funeral home to pick out a casket. What confused him most was why he was here at all. He, his wife, and kids all had the same date on their heads, they had discussed at length what they would do when that date comes to make the most of their last day together. \n\nOne thing he thought was how was he going to handle insurance now, it had all been based on your date and he was past his now. He let the thought slip, he wasn’t really paying attention, he was just going through the motions to get to the funeral home. \n\nHe noticed people were looking at his date, he didn’t care though. More people stopped to look, like they had seen a ghost or a celebrity. He didn’t bother with any of them. \n\nWhen he got to the funeral home the director looked at him unsurprised, he seemed to have seen this before, or he was doing a very good job of acting normal. \n\nAfter picking out the flowers and coffins and the rest he started back home, an empty home. No wife or children there waiting for him. It was then he realized that the number didn’t pertain to just physical death.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,983	11,463	0.09543	1,033	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You are in no way related to Uther Pendragon, however, you realize that the sword in the stone is child proof and to drag it out you just need to push down and turn the sword", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Everyone had signed up to give it a go so of course I put my name forward. Even Brom the Baker was here, looking foolish, limbering up in the queue.\n\n“So, what do you think Thomas? Just use brute force? Or lean back through the hips?” Tybalt asked. My oldest acquaintance stood next to me with a confident look on his face, peering over the heads of the crowd. Fate had thrown us together 12 years ago and I hadn’t been able to shake him since. It was probably the fact that we had no one else that kept us as begrudging friends.\n\n“I don’t know, what’s the point? Look at some of the people here.” Nobles, peasants, soldiers and even royals were turning out for the big event. “Look at Cedric over there, his arms are like tree trunks!” Cedric was stood near the front with his usual entourage of admirers. “and look at Terryn! He led the fourth crusade last Spring! What business do two guards from the gaol have here”.\n\nTybalt looked at me with disbelief. “What are you talking about Thomas! You have to believe. You’re always so dejected, no wonder I’m favoured over you for the next key holder at work”.\n\nI just shook my head. I could usually ignore the vomit of arrogance that spewed out of Tybalt but today I’d had enough. “This isn’t worth my time. I’m going back to work, that lunatic woman keeps throwing her own dirt and it needs cleaning up”. Tybalt just threw his head back in exasperation.\n\n“Fine but I’m staying. I’ll see you back at the gaol.” Tybalt turned his attention back to the sword in the stone that had the whole land captivated. I walked back towards work which led me by the stone just as Cedric was flexing his muscles and taking his turn. I watched with mild interest.\n\n“Watch out there!” someone called and I had to hastily move to avoid a carriage moving past. I tripped and landed at the front of the queue with an eruption of laughter coming from the onlookers. A firm hand grabbed my arm and dragged me up and I realised it was one of the Royal Guards.\n\n“Come on lad, take your turn and be done with it” He thrust me towards the sword poking out of the boulder hilt first. He ignored the protests of both me and the queue behind me and just pointed towards the sword. Exasperated and embarrassed I climbed the pedestal to give the sword an unenthused tug. I laid my hands on the hilt, sighing and sinking my weight on the weapon when it sunk further into the rock. Nobody seemed to notice but I thought it strange. For no reason known to me, even to this day, I decided to twist the sword. It lifted free and the crowd gasped as one. Silence. Then Tybalt, the fool, started jumping up and down at the back shouting. The guard stormed towards me, grabbed me and hissed viciously through his teeth at me.\n\n“What on earth on you doing lad! Arthur was supposed to pull the sword” he pointed to a puny looking man in the queue.\n\nOne way or another, it seemed I was going back to the gaol.\n\n&#x200B;\n\nFor more check out my sub! https://www.reddit.com/r/HungryWriterNNF", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,226	11,455	0.027129	631	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": "Congratulations! You are our 1,000,000th Bank Robbery.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Stop this!\" I shout to no one in particular. \"I've had enough of this... this... Celebration. I want terror and panic and money! Give me your money!\" \n\nA man walks up to me, patting me on my back and giving me a card that reads 'Congratulations 1,000,000th bank robber! I think I know what you want.' I open it and see a twenty dollar bill taped to the card and the words, 'Money!' \n\nI shoot the gun in the air, but it gets no ones' attention. Loud music is playing and employees are dancing and eating cake that came from somewhere. I let out a strangled scream of annoyance and start shaking so violently.\n\n\"GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING MONEY!\" A few people turn toward me, laughing and smiling. \"AAAGGGGHHHH.\" I raise my gun to shoot them in the head, but it's not there. \n\n\"Hey, don't worry about it\" someone says to me. \"You should be celebrating. Want cake?\" Suddenly, a bucket opens above me dumping confetti on top of my head, blinding me. I stumble and fall to the ground shouting in anger. What did these people think they were doing? They should be terrified! Crying! Pleading for mercy! \n\nA pair of handcuffs snap around my arms and I get hoisted to my feet, someone holding my neck. \"Nice try, robber.\" They carry me away, screaming and shouting. \"Don't be so happy\" he tells me. \"That wasn't the millionth robbery. But we're getting close to the ten thousand arrests here.\"\n\nEdit: Spelling and word change\n\nAnd thanks everyone for my most upvoted comment yet! Glad you all enjoyed", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,772	11,454	0.298814	1,411	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Each time you kill someone, you have a vision of the best thing that person did for humanity. Usually this confirms that you are actually killing villains. But each of the last three people you killed triggered visions showing that the best thing they ever did was try to kill you.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The man swung at me with everything he had, his fist colliding with my cheek. I stumbled backwards, surprised he managed to land a punch—I wasn’t used to my targets putting up a fight. He was quick; I was quicker. \n\nHe came at me again, sooner than he should have. He was impatient—he wanted to end the fight before it was won. That was his downfall. I slid to my right, narrowly avoiding his attack, and buried my knife in his armpit. The man stepped back, staring at me, confused as to how he came to be in such pain. Then he fell to the floor, convulsing. \n\nI retrieved my knife and rolled him onto his back. He needed to die, yes—but he didn’t need to suffer. I finished the job as quick as I could. As the light faded from his eyes, a pain shot through my skull—more severe than normal. The vision came quicker than I expected. \n\nIt was meant to be this man’s greatest contribution to the world. They always were. Even evil men were capable of kindness; these visions allowed me to see their best moments in life. But for this man, and the two I killed before him, I saw only his final moments. Each swing he took at me, each attempt at taking my life. I doubled over in pain—not from my head, though it hurt nearly as bad—but from the feeling of a knife in my side. I could feel the man’s death. \n\nI came to sometime later, the world appearing out of focus. I had passed out from the pain, it seemed—and as the world regained its clarity, so did my mind. My visions had never lied before. So why, then, was I seeing these men attacking me in their final moments? Why was an attempt on my life the greatest thing they contributed to society?\n\nI considered the first to be a fluke. The second I chalked up to a particularly evil man having never done anything of note. But this one… this one felt different. In truth, I had no idea who he was—I received my target, a vision in itself, and set myself to the task. It was no different than any other man I’d killed. But if something was wrong—if I wasn’t supposed to kill these men—then who’s to say I was meant to kill the others?\n\nI left the abandoned warehouse in a hurry, hoping to find an answer at the church. As luck would have it, I was only a few blocks away. Father Gabriel would know how to interpret these visions; I was sure of that. \n\nI entered the church and found Gabriel kneeling before a number of candles. He kept his voice low, but even his whispers echoed in the vast hall. \n\n“Father,” I said, announcing my approach. \n\nHe jumped to his feet and turned to face me. \n\n“Didn’t mean to startle you,” I said. “I need to know—”\n\n“How is this possible?” he said, grasping at the cross around his neck. \n\n“Father, I don’t understand. I did as you instructed, another evildoer has been—”\n\nHe moved behind the pulpit, a frenzy of prayers escaping his lips in a rushed whisper.\n\n“Father,” I said, confused. “I only did as you asked. The man in my visions, he did not appear evil in the end. Nor did the two before. I only seek your guidance.”\n\n“It was you, Samuel! I’m sorry—Lord, I’m sorry—but it was meant to be you!” \n\nI stopped. “Meant to be me? I don’t—”\n\n“Samuel, my child,” he said, his teeth chattering. “You have done the Lord’s work for many years, but it is not clean work.”\n\nMy stomach churned. “Are you saying… I’m the evil one? But—I’ve done only as He commanded—”\n\n“Please leave this place, Samuel,” he said, blood trickling from the hand that grasped his cross. “There are others like you—more than just the three you’ve killed—and I do not wish to see—”\n\nGabriel went silent as I heard the door open behind me. I turned and saw a man, nearly twice my size, walking casually down the aisle. \n\n“Who are you?” I asked. I felt a sudden weakness in my bones, an unusual exhaustion. What Gabriel had said was just beginning to settle in the back of my mind—I had spent my years killing, and it had made me evil. \n\n“I think you know who I am,” the man said. He drew a large hunting knife from his waist. \n\nI turned and looked at Father Gabriel. He was sitting on the floor, gripping his cross and rocking back and forth. I could no longer hear his whispers. \n\nI faced the man once more and drew my knife. \n\n“Well, let’s go, then.” \n\nr/Ford9863", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,105	11,453	0.058396	1,048	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You're a Mechromancer. It's a bit like being a Necromancer, except that instead of working with dead flesh and departed souls you work with defunct machinery and deleted computer programs.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The young woman slid the package across the counter.\n\n\"I've had this phone for years - kept it in pristine condition. Last week, I accidentally dropped it in the toilet, and they say it's beyond repair.\"\n\nI grimaced, praying that the toilet had been flushed. Perhaps that's a weird concern coming from a guy with a perpetual layer of dust on him - discarded computer hardware tended to be chockful of the stuff - but I'd had a really bad experience reviving some hardware that'd been grunged out of sewage. (It was a USB drive filled with classified information, and the government was willing to pay top dollar for it.)\n\n\"But they say you're the Mechromancer, and you can work magic on any piece of tech that's defunct or dead. Could you please take a look?\"\n\nMy client turned her huge doe eyes on me and smiled tentatively, and that made up for having to touch something that'd potentially been swimming in pee. I didn't get a lot of female customers, let alone beautiful ones. Most of my clientele were specky geeks or nerds pestering me to fix up some ancient game console, big serious secret service agents with destroyed encrypted drives, or the odd granny weeping about how mould had got into the tape of little Angela's second birthday party.\n\n\"Hm, let me take a look,\" I said. Under promise, over deliver - that was my motto, and it had never failed me yet. Gingerly, I opened the package and poured the dead phone out. I perked up at the sight of it - one of the last of my favourite race of button phones. This was going to be a job I would enjoy.\n\nCracking my knuckles, I probed it with my mind. All tech matter left a sort of trace, a whisper of what it had been capable of. Sometimes I could detect it with my mind, but this time I felt nothing. It was too waterlogged for any mental contact.\n\nSo I reached out with my fingers, manfully hiding my reluctance to touch it.\n\n\"I've wiped it over and over with antibacterial alcohol wipes,\" offered my client, and I internally cringed. Hadn't been as manful as I'd thought. But her comment gave me a peace of mind, and I freely picked up the poor brick. In my hands, the worn-out thing - so much smaller than the smartphones of today, yet so much fatter - gave a tired hum that was almost inaudible even to me. The water damage was way too extensive for a normal technician to repair, but with the magic I could work, it would be a cinch.\n\n\"I can fix this,\" I said to my customer, \"on one condition.\"\n\n\"Anything!\" she said, looking as if she could kiss me. Indeed, I noticed that she was twirling a lock of hair around her finger, in a fashion that was undeniably flirtatious, and for just one moment, I was tempted to ask her for a date.\n\nAnd then I regained my senses.\n\n\"That when I'm done, I'll get one hour to use your phone. I won't dig into your confidential information, I promise.\"\n\nShe wrinkled her nose, her eyes darting left and right, and it was clear how weirded out she was.\n\nWhat can I say?\n\nPretty girls were hard to come by in my trade, but I never could resist a game of Snake on a Nokia.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,540	11,431	0.244276	1,100	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " On your deathbed you confide to your nurse the fact that you were a serial killer who got away with your crimes. \"Me too,\" She replies wryly.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I try to pick up my spoon, determined to feed myself. It shakes in my hand, no matter how I tighten my grip, but I will not concede defeat, and manage to get a small dose of soup into my mouth. It is bland, tasteless. How far I have fallen. \n\nAfter so many years of faithful service, the Lady Death now turns her black eyes to me. My form withers beneath her gaze, corruption spreading from her caress. And the pain! Ye gods, the pain.\n\nA knock upon my door. I bid them enter, and the healer approaches. She is a pretty little thing, all blonde curls and vapid smiles. I doubt she has ever known true power. I doubt she ever will.\n\n\"Your medicine, Lord Joros,\" she says, proffering a vial of clear liquid. I eye it warily. Innocuous as it looks, it has a foul taste that stays long after that initial swallow. Yet it is all that keeps my Lady from visiting, and I am not ready to make that journey yet. \n\nA swallow, a grimace, and it is done. \n\nShe turns to leave, and a peculiar sensation washes over me. I grab her wrist. I do not want her to leave. Why? \n\n\"Please,\" I hear myself say, \"Stay a while. Hear me speak.\"\n\nThe sensation grows stronger. Is this... fear? \n\nI dismiss the notion, but it returns. Again, and again. I am afraid. But why? \n\n\"What would you have me hear, my lord?\" she says. \n\n\"I...\"\n\nFor once, words fail me. I want her to hear my words, but I cannot think of what to say. Why am I afraid? \n\nThe answer comes swiftly, accompanied by anguish. I want to tell her of my service to my Lady, tales I have never shared with another. I do not want to be forgotten, when I am gone. \n\nAnd so I tell her. I tell her of the Shattered Isles, of my training at the hands of the Priest there. I tell her of my time in Threx, of the years of debauchery, wine and blood flowing in equal measure atop those cobbled streets.\n\nI tell her of my near-miss at the hands of another servant of my Lady, how I left his head at the summit of the Iron Mountain, as a warning to the rest. \n\nI tell her of the men, women and children who died at my hand. I tell her how their fear fuelled me, how it satisfied the hunger that plagues me even now. \n\nI tell her everything, and she listens without a word. \n\n\"I am a disciple of the Lady Death.\" I say. I am tired now. Exhaustion grips me harder than before. The medicine must be losing efficacy. It will not be long before my journey begins. I close my eyes.\n\n\"Me too,\" she says, wryly. \n\nAnd then I am staring at her, staring at the empty vial in her hand. Wasn't the medicine green earlier? My eyes flick back to her.\n\nShe's smiling at me, not unkindly. I find myself smiling back. What is happening? \n\n\"The Lady Death acknowledges your faithful service, Joros of the Night. This corruption that plagues you is not her doing. I am here to deliver you, safely, to her arms.\"\n\nMy limbs are heavy now. I cannot lift them. All I can do, is stare at that smiling face, those blond curls, those green eyes. \n\n\"Sleep now, Joros. You'll be with our Lady soon.\"\n\nI close my eyes again, and cannot open them. My strength fades. \n\nMy journey begins.\n\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,727	11,412	0.031322	2,113	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You have the ability to freeze time. When you do, everyone else freezes too. One day, you freeze time and are astounded to see a girl continuing her walk down the street. However as soon as she sees you, she stands perfectly still and pretends to be frozen.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "I discovered I could stop time the same way those bullies said I'd been conceived: by accident. The added irony that I might soil myself while only a few paces from a toilet only came to me once time was stopped. Until then, I cowered in the corner of that elementary school bathroom as the ring of bullies circled around me. \n\nMean girls. The lot of them. So pretty that I would have envied them had it not been for that rotten core they each had. Mother always said that what was inside mattered more than what was outside, but that sure wasn't true when it came to having friends. They had so many, but they were all so mean.\n\nExcept for Madeline. She never partook quite as much as the others, always looked at me with sympathy instead of cruelty or pity. Like watching a creature in a zoo, but she couldn't very well hop inside that cage to be with me. I didn't expect her to. I just hoped she'd stop them if they got too rough. \n\nI raised my arms to shield my head, prayed that the beating would be quick and not too painful. But it never came. \n\nWhen I looked up, I saw a fist, but the fist never moved. They didn't either. They just stood there ready to give me another beating. Ready to pull my hair out by the roots, stain my clothes with ketchup, kick me and leave me crying in the bathroom. \n\nBut they didn't.\n\nI walked out of there unscathed, just a pair of eyes watching me as I went. Sympathetic eyes. Curious eyes. I didn't think a thing of them, not back then. \n\nShe moved away that summer. The group carried on as if nothing, bullying me and punching me anywhere but in the face.\n\nI'd stop time to escape them, leaving them punching the tiled walls of the school bathrooms. And I'd stop time for fun, too. I'd walk amongst my peers and parents without fearing that they'd ask me what I was doing. I could look in their wallets, see what secrets they hid. I could cross the street without looking both ways, take ice cream by the scoop without the ice cream man ever realizing what had happened. I could run free--free of worries and free of looks and free of the shackles that drowned me in a sea of expectations.\n\nNothing ever moved but inanimate objects. Nobody ever moved but me. Nobody until Madeline. \n\nShe'd moved back. She still walked with the same group and with the same strut, only with a few more years of confidence beneath her belt now. They were at the mall, probably looking for things that pretty girls look for, things like nice surprises for their boyfriends or clothes only pretty girls could wear. \n\nI'd come for a pair of jeans and to spend time with the mannequins but suddenly didn't need either anymore. I wasn't looking to relive those miserable days of the past.\n\nI turned around to escape them. Voices carried faster than their footsteps, but one came close behind the other. \n\n\"Hey, Sneakers,\" one of them yelled. \n\nBeverly. She'd coined that nickname, because apparently it wasn't ladylike to wear sneakers every day. I hated her, even if hate was a strong word. I used to say I just didn't like her, but now that I knew what hate was? I hated her. \n\n\"No,\" I said, and I whipped around and clenched my fists and thought as hard as I could about freezing everybody. \n\nOn cue, the world stopped moving. It didn't grind to a halt the way mom and dad slowly rolled up to the therapist's office every Saturday morning as if it weighed on them even half as much as it weighed on me. It stopped on a dime, quick as the tail end of a blink.\n\nThings moved. Shirts. The water from a water fountain. The shadows in the department store windows. But nobody moved. Nobody except Madeline.\n\nShe thought I wouldn't notice as she adjusted her position, as she moved her arm to fall limp at her side and shook the hair out of her face. \n\n\"Madeline?\" I said, stopping my escape and walking towards her. \"Can you hear me?\"\n\nHer mouth didn't answer but her eyes did. They went from blank to focused, from staring into some random shop to looking me in the eyes. Then she swallowed, the sound loud in the silenced mall. \n\n\"I didn't want anybody else to know,\" she said.\n\n\"Why? It's so... cool.\"\n\n\"Dangerous,\" she said as I finished my words.\n\n\"Dangerous? What's dangerous about it?\"\n\n\"Everything,\" she said, that facade of confidence melting before my eyes. \"What if it gets stuck like this? What if nobody ever moves again?\"\n\nI shrugged. \"Some things might be better. I wouldn't have to worry about them,\" I said, pointing at her group of friends.\n\n\"That's true. I'm sorry about them. I just...\"\n\n\"You don't need to apologize,\" I said. \"No use in them beating up both of us.\"\n\nShe sighed. \"A lot of things would be a lot worse, you know?\"\n\nMaybe. Maybe not. I had friends when the world was frozen, even if they weren't there anymore when people started to walk and talk again. \n\nSure, I'd have missed my mom and dad. I'd have even missed the therapist a little bit, but I wouldn't tell him that. They always talked, and it was always about me. Gossips. Took their notes and talked to each other and took more notes.\n\n\"So you just don't ever do it?\" I said.\n\n\"Never,\" she said. \"I don't even know if I can. I knew you could do it--remember that day in--\"\n\n\"Elementary school. In the bathroom.\"\n\nShe nodded. \n\n\"That's when I first discovered it,\" I said.\n\n\"I figured. It didn't affect me, so I figured I must be able to, too.\"\n\n\"I bet you could do it,\" I said. I just about started explaining to her how but she kept talking.\n\n\"You're brave, you know? Doing it all the time. It's just so scary to me, everything different from how I know it. I guess it's the quiet that scares me. The quiet and the loneliness. Same reason I spend time with them.\"\n\nI shook my head. \"There's nothing scary about this. Listen. You can hear the water fountain and you can hear the wind. You can hear your own footsteps and your own thoughts for a change.\"\n\n\"It's still lonely,\" she said, shivering and pulling her knit sweater tighter around herself. \n\nI smiled at her, pity mixing with sympathy. I knew how lonely she felt--not because I'd felt it frozen, but because I'd felt it each day as I walked in the doors of that wretched school. I'd have given anything for a hand to hold or a friend to hug. I'd have given anything for somebody to talk to, somebody who'd listen and not run away to spread my secrets like dandelion seeds.\n\n\"Here,\" I said, holding out my hand. \"It doesn't need to be lonely.\"\n\nHer skin was soft against mine, her touch cool but comforting. Like theirs. Like the ones I trusted, confided in, spent as many hours as I could with. \n\n\"You'll miss them at first,\" I said, pointing at her frozen group of friends. \"But they're less scary now so there's nothing scary left. I'm here with you, and there's always the mannequins to talk to if you want.\"\n\n*****\n\nThanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,644	11,405	0.023478	1,360	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": "Technically True Man.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The world knows one thing about “Technically True Man.”\n\nThey don’t know my face, my skin color, my eyes, my voice, my country, my goals nothing. Except the name I’ve been given. “Technically True Man.” The newscasters joked that at least they had narrowed down the suspects to 1.55 billion people.\n\nThey were looking at the wrong 1.55 billion. \n\nI walked into the gala, red gown hugging my curves, trailing slightly on the ground. A couple of people glanced my way, but most paid no mind, I hated clothing like this, but to dress any other way would make me stick out. This glamorous thing was what I needed to blend in. I make my way through the tower made of wine glasses, the people attached to expensive jewelry. Bastards, the lot of them. Leeches. The world hung on the brink of nuclear annihilation. The Russians had stationed missiles in Cuba. Yet here they were, the most powerful people on the planet, drinking wine, and flashing smiles. \n\nStill, I snagged a glass. It would help the vibe I was going for. It was my most powerful tool. Clothes, face, attitude, voice. Blatant lies that weren't said, but still they screamed. They played on perception and expectations. A powerful tool. \n\nI walked up to the man himself – the most powerful man on the planet, or second, depending on who you asked. It didn’t matter, really. One could annihilate the earth two times over, the other only one-and-a-half times. \n\n“Mr. Khrushchev,” I said when I got to him, making my voice deliberately gain an American accent. That instantly drew his attention. \n\n“That is me,” he said, frowning at me. The frown that could destroy the world. \n\n“I represent the American government,” I said. Technically the truth. Not in an official capacity of course, but I was dealing on the American side for now. \n\nKhrushchev stiffened. “We will hear nothing. The least you could have done is have your Kennedy show up. We want your missiles out of Western Europe, and only then will we remove the missiles in Cuba.”\n\n“You have your missiles in Cuba, Mr. Khrushchev,\" I said, \"but what about your missiles in Moscow?\" I flashed him a razor sharp smile.\n\nKhrushchev paled. “Wh-what do you mean?”\n\n“Moscow. I know for a fact, as does any United States agent with high enough clearance, has no missiles in its control at the moment.” I’d phrased it with no room for error. What they called an absolute truth. No chance I could be tricking him. There were no missiles under Moscow’s control. “Go ahead, call your folks in Moscow. See if they fire. Moscow won't be firing missiles for a couple of days at least.”\n\nMoscow, Idaho, that was. \n\n“Th-that’s impossible,” he stammered.\n\n“Is it?” I asked. No lie. \n\n\"Doesn't matter,\" Khrushchev said with a slice of his arm. \"Our missiles in Cuba are still functional. The United States by attacking first would condemn itself to ours.\"\n\n\"Well it's been that way for the last decade, Mr. Khrushchev,\" I said, examining my fingernails. \"But the United States would have a window now to absolutely obliterate the USSR, while the USSR would have a fraction of their arsenal to respond with.\" The word \"would\" was key here. Would implied theoretical scenario. Yes if the United States had in fact somehow managed to cut off control of missiles from Moscow - this would be the case.\n\n\"You would sacrifice millions to destroy us?\" he said, his hand shaking a bit.\n\n\"To prevent a hundred million from dying to a full arsenal strike? Yes we would. These are the best odds we've had to survive this mess in years.\"\n\nHis hand gripped the glass so tightly that I was afraid it would snap. “What do you want?\" he said through gritted teeth.\n\nI smiled and sipped my drink. “Peace on Earth, Mr. Khrushchev. And of course, a certain amount of financial compensation. Wouldn’t want information like this to leak…” \n\n\n***\n(moderate edits: corrected a logical fallacy, fixed population, changed grammar)\n\nI wrote another story with a similar concept, the whole tricky truths thing! You'll like it if you liked this: [Dare to Lie](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/comments/8jqe1n/fiction_dare_to_lie/?utm_source=reddit-android) \n\nIf you enjoyed, check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,903	11,388	0.229093	1,101	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " You sold your soul to the devil, but now that you're dead, Apple is suing the devil for the soul they own as part of their terms of service.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Steve Jobs cracked his knuckles and Satan shit himself.\n\nI'd just been dragged to Hell, demons jeering and spearing me as Satan pulled me through the gates, when former and late CEO of Apple technologies interrupted my journey to the sulfur pits. Steve polished his fingernails on his black turtleneck. \"Where do you think you're taking my new employee?\"\n\n\"What-What do you mean.\" Satan stepped away from me. \"Saint Peter himself said this one's not for Heaven.\"\n\nSteve tutted and approached me without hesitation. \"Uh...\" I looked left and right. \"Are you saving me? Are you the, uh, Apple guy?\"\n\n\"Nah, that's mostly Wozniak. He'll get here eventually.\" Steve poked my nude chest. I'd been naked since I died, but now a black turtleneck and jeans manifested upon me. \"You bought an iPad H?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"The Gold one?\"\n\n\"Yeah, the Gold one.\"\n\n\"Read the terms and conditions?\"\n\n\"Nope.\"\n\nSteve shrugged. \"I own your soul now.\"\n\nSatan gathered courage to speak. \"With all due respect, sir---nobody reads the terms and conditions.\"\n\n\"That's not gonna hold up in Godly Court. You know the Big Guy, He likes rules.\"\n\nI wasn't sure if I should root for Steve or Satan. I kept my mouth shut. My black turtleneck chafed. \n\nSatan pulled out a Blackberry and dialed his lawyer. \"Hey, look up this soul for me.\" He snapped a photo of me. \"He didn't read his terms and conditions and sold his soul to Apple. Can't I just throw the poor guy in a sulfur pit for their lifetime of masturbation?\" Satan listened to his lawyer. \"The Gold one,\" he said. \"Really? Shit. Poor dude.\" \n\nSatan shrugged. Steve gestured for me to follow behind him. \"Where are we going?\"\n\n\"This is the elevator to Heaven.\" Steve pointed to a golden elevator which stretched from the fiery canyon to the clouds. He pressed the single-purpose elevator button. \n\n\"So, what do you mean by employe---\"\n\n\"Tsh, tshhh---\" Steve shushed me into the elevator. \n\nWe did not speak in the elevator. It was a long ride.\n\nIn Heaven everything was fine. Angelic figures applauded me, but Steve pulled me over the clouds. I wish I could have tried the candy fountains or heard more of the pleasant harps, but Steve brought me into a glass building.\n\nAt least twelve thousand men and women wore black turtlenecks and collars. They didn't look so happy about it. Some were sobbing. I turned to ask Steve about them, but he was gone. \"What's up?\" I asked a sobbing woman.\n\n\"I sold my soul to Apple,\" she cried. \"But you know that, you did it too!\" \n\n\"I didn't mean to,\" I said.\n\n\"You bought the iPad H. Didn't you think the screen resolution and user-interface were too good for the mortal plane? You sold your soul for celestial tech.\"\n\n\"I mostly used it to browse Reddit,\" I admitted. \"Oh well. It's better than Hell. Right? Otherwise, why would the angels outside be cheering?\"\n\n\"They're our customers, of course they're cheering. We've entered Heaven into an eternity of servitude. And every night, we slave away in the Apple mines.\" She wiped her eyes as the Apple store opened for the day. \"Hello, sirs, madams, may I help you find anything?\"", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,797	11,371	0.040096	987	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " We live in a simulation, and we sleep because they can't render everyone at once. You stay up for days, and begin to see things and people. They call themselves the maintenance crew.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Back in Ancient Rome, sometime before Jesus was born, there was a myth circulating, and it went something like this: if you should be awake for the entirety of seven days and seven nights, you might see the silhouette of a dead man walking the street. And if you do... run. \n\nThey called him Insomnis -- the sleepless one -- and it is said he found a way to talk to the Gods. \n\nBack when Insomnis was still a man, he swore he would find a way to reach the Gods and be with them always. He believed that the way to the Gods was not through worship, but through dreams, and so he trained himself to control his mind during his sleep; to control his existence inside his dreams. For seven years he explored the constraints of the night realms, finding -- probing -- the edges and limits. It is said the Gods warned him, told him that he must look no further, for there are realities that are not meant for mortals; truths that are sealed in the darkness and locked away in the void. But he did not listen to their warnings and instead was encouraged by them. He saw it as a test of faith that they had set him. He began to drug himself, ensuring the deepest of sleeps known to the Romans. His control of his dreamstate grew ever stronger, and the borders of the night realm began to weaken before him; cracks and fissures appeared that he battered his mind against until they grew into a hole he could slip through.\n\nWhat he saw there is unclear in the stories, but they all agree he drifted into the Bacchanalian realm of the Gods. There, he saw a vision not meant for our kind; he saw into the eyes of Jupiter himself, and Jupiter was displeased with him. Jupiter told him that next time he slept, because of him, the lights of existence would be extinguished. \n\nHe woke in a fit, screaming and sweating blood. From that moment, he resolved never to sleep again - he never dared to shut his eyes and even ripped off his eyelids for fear of falling. But as time passed and his madness grew deeper, both his body and mind faded to a place between the realms of the Gods and the planes of the mortals, until he existed nowhere, except in the glimpses of our madness.\n\nI mention this story because I haven't slept in eight nights now. I mention it because Insomnis whispers to me as he sits on the end of my bed, his red pupils pulsating in the darkness of his silhouette. He tells me that the stories were wrong; it wasn't the Gods that drove him insane. There was something far worse than they, that he began to see in his waking hours. The Gods of the Gods. A reality beyond reality.\n\nHe says now that I know about them, the maintenance men will come for me; that I can never sleep, or they will catch me. That existence will be snuffed like a candle, should I sleep.\n\nHe hands me the knife and tells me I cannot go back; I cannot sleep again. He stretches my eyelid out, and with a trembling hand, I raise the knife and cut.\n\n---\n\nmore of my stories on /r/nickofnight \n\n ", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
8,403	11,369	0.033013	1,472	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": "LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC”. You hear your SO at the locked front door, who’s just come back from the supermarket. They beg to be let inside but you’re unsure. Something doesn’t feel right.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "Jen gnawed her lip as she stared through the lens. Jase hadn't covered it with his thumb, which was unusual. Even more unusual, he was actually carrying groceries, a couple of big paper bags of them, one in each arm.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Please let me in, Jennifer,\" he said. \"Things will be different.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nHe'd had a shave and a haircut. There was a little crusted blood around one nostril, the way he got sometimes when he hadn't had any coke in a while. \n\n&nbsp; \n\n\"Aren't you gonna tell me to turn off the computer?\" she asked. In the background, the intro music of High Seas of Naelor could be heard. Sometimes that game was all that got her through the night. Jase had always hated it. He'd deleted all her accounts multiple times. She always got a new one, and now she had password managers that he couldn't crack. He'd split her lip for that once, but she had not given in. She kept the apartment spotless, she handed over every cent of her check every two weeks, she worked out and never showed him a face without nice makeup on it, but he could not take away her elf pirates.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"No, Jennifer,\" he said. \"The computer is a reasonable coping mechanism in a situation traumatic to your sp - to someone in your situation. Please let me in. We will talk. Things will be different.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"I've been watching the news,\" she said. \"You're not Jase, are you?\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nHis eyes were big and wide and brown, not narrowed in suspicion and impending temper.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"No,\" he sighed. \"I am not Jason Alexander Rembrandt, aged twenty-nine, occupation unfixed, residence apartment 301 building N.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"You're one of them things,\" she said. \"The invaders.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Yes. I am one of them things,\" he said sadly.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"And Jase is dead.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Yes, Jase is very dead, Jennifer,\" he said. \n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Promise?\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"I promise. I currently occupy the entirety of what was once Jase's frontal lobe, so I can say this with some certainty. I apologize if that is unpleasant for you to hear.\" He blinked a couple of times, and she realized he hadn't blinked since the first time she'd seen him. \"I suppose you will be contacting the authorities. Could I persuade you to give me a head start?\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"No,\" Jennifer said as she took the chain off. She opened the apartment door. \"But you can come in. Is that fresh bread?\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe thing that wasn't Jase smiled in a way that Jase never had, as if he were genuinely happy to see her. He took the groceries into the kitchen as she locked the door again and began putting them away, his movements a little clumsy.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Yes,\" he said. \"Jase remembered that you liked the kind with olives in it.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"He never brought me any,\" Jennifer said.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"No, he did not,\" the thing said. \"May I stay here? Now that I have a host I have no reason to hurt anyone, you know. We only want a place to stay. All of us.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Well, you can't all stay in here,\" Jen said, leaning her elbows on the counter. \n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"No, no. We would not all fit. Ha, ha?\" he added hopefully.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"The laugh isn't convincing,\" Jen said. \n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Sorry, Jennifer.\"\n\n&nbsp; \n\n\"You can stay.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Thank you, Jennifer!\" It smiled again. It kept forgetting to blink, but the smile was surprisingly real. \"May I watch you play your pirate game?\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nJen smiled back. \"Sure. Come on.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nAuthor's note: WOW I did not expect the level of response I got to this one! Thank you to everyone leaving comments, and to those who have given me silver and gold as well. I love parasites and symbiotes, and I actually have a novel project about one in progress, although it's post-apocalyptic and not much like the story of Jase and Jennifer. Given how much you guys seem to like this little one-shot, though, maybe I need to think about doing a modern-day retelling.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,734	11,364	0.043897	1,797	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " The galaxy is actually full of life and advanced civilizations. Everyone just leaves Earth alone because that's where The Great Old Ones are imprisoned, and nobody wants to wake them up.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "“Coordinates are set for Earth,” Bria confirmed, tapping through her console. \n\n“We are crazy. You both know that. What happens when we get there and it’s not true? What happens when we get there and it is? We go poke ancient planet eating bears?” Dash asked. His voice squeaked as he spoke, nerves getting the better of him. \n\nHe was the more nervous of the trio, but it never stopped him from tagging along. He liked being left out less than he liked going on their ridiculous adventures.\n\n“Poke poke,” Bria said, turning her head to smile at him. \n\n“It’s fine, Dash,” Talyn said steadily, “Whatever happens- They are imprisoned. As long as we don’t open the gate and let them start devouring us, it will all be fine.” \n\nDash pushed his shoulders against his seat and fidgeted with the straps across his chest. He grumbled but thought better of arguing any further. The other two would never understand where he was coming from. They had all been vague with their parental units so they all knew that no one knew where they were going. The way he figured, the best case scenario here was that they got themselves in serious trouble and no one would know where to come looking for them. \n\nThey would most likely end up stranded on earth or mauled by some local creature or better yet, ravaged by one of The Great Old Ones. Everyone left Earth alone for a reason, and here they were trying to go see them. \n\nHe closed his eyes as the ship jumped into drive, pushing his body harder against his seat. He wasn’t that big of a fan of inertia either if he was being honest. \n\nThe ship pushed onward, holding all three against their seats until they reached the Milky Way. Bria squealed when the ship's computer announced that they were almost there and that the ship would now be slowing down to a speed appropriate for atmospheric entry. Dash, in response, groaned. He looked through the front shield at the round blueish planet they were headed for. \n\n“We could still turn around,” he said cheerfully. \n\nBoth of the girls laughed without turning around to look at him. \n\n“You know that Earth’s rocket ships actually crash land every single time they come back into their own atmosphere?” Bria asked her companions. \n\n“And these are the ones in charge of keeping the rest of us safe,” Talyn snorted at the end of her sentence. \n\nDash had always taken her for a bit snobby. It was never directed at him or Bria which made it tolerable, but it came out sometimes none the less. He stared straight ahead and took a breath through clenched teeth as they pushed right on through the atmosphere of Earth. \n\nThey went through ozone and a long layer of clouds before coming down to an expansive body of warm looking water. The ship slowed further as they went, and with the push of a button the console, A set of feet for water landing deployed from the bottom. \n\n“This is always my favorite story,” Bria said as she turned the multiple keys that turned off the ship's engines. “All this water. Can you imagine if our planet had this much water? The creatures underneath must be huge! Oh, it’s gonna be so great. How far down do you think it is? What do you think it’s prison looks like? Where-” \n\n“Bria!” Talyn exclaimed, interrupting her, “take a breath girl, please. We will find out soon enough.” \n\nAll three unbuckled themselves and walked over to the bay door as it opened. Looking out over the reflecting surface that stretched through the horizon, Dash felt dizzy. \n\n“Lights on,” Talyn commanded, “Jump on three.” \n\nThree small clicks followed the order as they turned on the lights attached to their helmets. \n\n“One.\n\n“Two. \n\n“Three,” Talyn counted them down. \n\nAll three bodies hit the water, and the pod door whooshed closed behind them. They dove straight down, Bria at the lead and Dash taking up his normal place at the back of the line. It didn’t take long for the light from the sun to disappear and Dash felt himself shiver inside his suit. \n\nHe could feel the nozzles adjust for the decreasing temperatures and change in pressure. They wouldn’t be able to dive down without their suits, but they wouldn’t be able to explore the planet as a whole without them either. The suits were their entire life support off of their home planet. \n\nDeeper down they went and Dash watched as the life that swam around them began to change. Their shapes got slimmer and eventually, the fish stopped looking at them at all. Every so often he got the sense that they were touching them or smelling for them, but he simply didn’t know enough about the life here to confirm any of it. He didn’t have the stomach to try and make small conversation with the other two, either. \n\nSoon the fish and plants stopped appearing. Dash noticed and he wondered if the other two did as well. Not long after that, they reached a shelf of land deep within the earth ocean. They landed and bobbed up and down on the ground as best they could. Not too far from where they grouped, the shelf tore away once more. Dash could see the surface of the black abyss. \n\nThis was as far as their plan had been made. They would have to go back to their ship without having seen anything or commit and dive into the Abyss. According to Bria’s calculation- the prison was straight down over that ledge. As all three of them stood, speechless and staring into the darkness, a low hum began to travel through the waters. \n\nThe hum began to warble. Dash felt like it was bouncing between his ears-inside of his head. It sent another wave of shivers, and he clenched his jaw. \n\n“It’s there,” Bria whispered into her helmet. \n\nDash felt his gut spin as he watched her swim right over the ledge without another word. \n\n*** \n\nEdit: You guys are too kind! I will be responding to comments in a while, and I am going to try and get a second part done today. Bare with me as I find time to get it out :D \n\nE2: Thank you to the kind stranger who gave the story gold <3. And a silver! :D :D you guys make me so happy, thank you! \n\nI am hoping to find time tonight to work on a part 3. I will update when I get the chance :)\n\nE3: Another gold and a plat! You guys make my heart swell, Thank you all! \n\n/r/beezus_writes", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
2,879	11,354	0.074943	767	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " Humans left Earth a long time ago. In their place, dogs have evolved to be the new sentient species, but they never lost their love of humankind. Their technology has finally caught up to space travel, and they take to the stars in search of their human precursors.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The day they left us, we could not understand. There were some signs, though : open homes, not a lot of furniture left, but mostly, some machines that would make our life easier. \n\nAs for why, it is said that they advanced beyond the need for other species. They were content between themselves, having found solutions and made systems for the physiological needs of not feeling lonely, which was in most cases why they adopted pets. They had also popularized cheap, tasty, artificial meat which was really, as we looked into their archives, the beginning of their depart, or at least, the shift for the species to stop thinking about the other ones as lesser, or inferior. \n\nThere was no more feeling bad thinking about the life that was given for us to live, because the meat was never alive in the first place. \n\nSome of them felt bad for getting a pet so they were the ones, before they left, to adapt most of their technology for us to use. \nOur life got easier since then. We had access to all their knowledge, and since dogs didn't need to think about their next meal, they began to create. \n\nThey left, but we never forgot. It was thanks to them that we got to this point. So, in a matter of a few centuries, we began to look at the stars, to thank Humans for giving us the possibility to evolve. For giving us the possibility to be more than just pets.\n\nWe found their last known coordinates, made rockets and the ones who wanted to go went. \n\nWhen they arrived to the Humans' new home planet, they saw that they had gone for simpler lifes ; having discovered all science and solved most philosophy questions, they knew that they had to keep busy. \n\nAll that was left for them was farming, maintenance, art and entertainment. \n\nThey did not expect us but nonetheless welcomed us warmly. Our tail shook vigorously at their sight. \n\n\"You were the good boys all along\", we said in their language. They smiled.\n\nA wormhole was created between their planets for near-instant travel. Both of their world were close again. \n\nThus, Humans and Dogs took care of each other, but without the need to ; by pure kindness and sociability, as both species knew they were equal.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
5,417	11,348	0.046916	1,922	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " A sniper and a photographer meet in a bar, neither aware of the other's occupation. They talk about 'how to take the perfect shot'.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The two men walked out of the bar. They had been making small talk when one asked what the other was doing in town.\n\n\"Oh, I'm here to shoot the president.\" the shorter of the men said. His new friend looked slightly surprised but eventually replied.\n\n\"REALLY? wow. Me too. Small world huh. Still, I guess the way this year has gone there are going to be loads of people there with the same plan.\" They conferred for a minute and agreed that yes, there would be many. It was going to be big news and they both wanted to be the one to get that perfect shot.\n\nThe taller man was clearly expecting more money, the other decided to look him up later to check out his work. They discussed some of their plans.\n\n\"Yeah, I have a great vantage point picked out on a building nearby.\" the shorter one confided, he was insistent that being higher up and further away was a better vantage point. \"I can shoot from there and nobody gets in my way you see. Clear line of sight, right at the guy. If you are down on the ground there are too many people about to get in the way. Plus it's easier to get away afterwards.\"\n\n\"Sure, but I like being closer, it's more personal. When I take that shot I want to be able to look him in the eyes, catch that perfect moment. The crowds don't bother me so much as long as I can take care of my equipment.\n\nThey both nodded in agreement at the others perspective. After all, both ideas clearly had their own merit. What neither realised was they were not both in the same line of work.\n\nThey eventually parted ways. The shorter man heading towards the building he had indicated and the taller man begun pushing his way through crowds, a small black bag slung over his shoulder. As the short man ascended the stairs, a large long black case in his hand, he thought about how much easier it would be up close, without all these stairs.\n\nAs the other pushed through the crowds he could hear almost nothing against the background of cheering, jeering and other noise. He needed to be right at the front and this was no time for being nice to others. He was tall and quite fit, elbowing people and shoving his way without apology leaving a trail of annoyed people behind him. A black mask covered the lower half of his face, of course most of the people here were wearing masks which was a relief, the last thing he wanted was to get sick from this.\n\nThe last stair climbed the shorter man begun to open up and unpack his equipment. An array of adapters and optics, clip on attachments etc. A small bipod which he much preferred to most other supports. He had found a broken window so he could get a nice clear shot, pulled a table up to it and placed a plastic sheet over it before laying down on the table and setting up pointing out of the window. Wind whistled in through the hole and he was thankful for the leather gloves he was wearing. He had checked out this building before and there were no regular security patrols. It had been closed for some time after the company went under.\n\nHe was at the front of the crowd. The president was on stage. His \"press\" credentials had allowed him closer than most, in a small dedicated area. He wasn't as jostled here. Some elbow room. He was holding a nice DSLR with a huge lens balanced only in his hands. The others with all sorts of tripods laughed at him. He pulled the scarf up around his face. Only the tops of his eyes poking over. His hat was pulled down low over his head.\n\nFrom up this high the president looked small, but with such a powerful zoom it would be easy. He just had to wait for the perfect moment. Maybe a heckler, or protest? Something was bound to happen that would take everybody's attention, cause a scene. Make some noise. Slowly as he aimed down at the president he took the lens cover off.\n\nBoth men had the president in their sights. Both men were ready to take their shot.\n\nA crazed woman burst out of the crowd screaming about something, this was it. She hurled something at the president. An egg. Security guards rushed towards her.\n\nThe tall man in the crowd waited for the split second the egg hit. The president had his eyes shut, security were all focused on the woman.\n\nThe short man pulled his trigger as he saw the same moment.\n\nA soft snap sound from both men. Inaudible to anybody in the crowds.\n\nSomebody in a suit reached the president and tried to wipe the egg off his face only to have him slump into their arms.\n\nPanic.\n\nThe president was dragged off stage, security fired, killing the woman who had thrown the egg. More shots rang out from the crowd and chaos ensued.\n\nThe tall man turned and left, running with the crowd.\n\nThe shorter man slowly packed up his gear. Slowly and methodically ensuring everything was put away and not a trace was left behind. He rolled up the plastic sheet and tucked it away in the case with everything else. He left too, eager to report to his employer. He was going to be rich.\n\n\"Up there! I saw a reflection!\" somebody shouted, eyes turned to the tell tale flash of light that had reflected for a moment in the window high up, security rushed to the building.\n\nThe tall man flashed his press badge as he left in the opposite direction and slowly walked away.\n\nSecurity converged on the empty building, all exits covered. A door opened, a short man tried to slip out of a rear fire exit unnoticed. A hail of bullets took him down in seconds. His limp body lay on the ground, blood covering his large black flight case.\n\nAnother man got on a bus, then a plane.\n\nVarious agencies surrounded the scene. They were searching for bullet casings and evidence high up in the building while a robot operated by bomb disposal carefully opened the clasps on the case and lifted the lid.\n\nA dozen men in suits stared in horror at the contents of the case. An array of lenses. A bipod, tripod, monopod, remote camera trigger, a very expensive DSLR and a huge very expensive zoom lens, the sort the paperazzi use to get photos of celebs from miles away. The photographer lay dead in a pool of his own blood.\n\nThe hitman opened up his modified camera to clean the gun mechanism hidden inside it. The long lens had hidden the silencer and had been removed. Everything had gone exactly as planned, he was just glad he got his shot off before that idiot sniper had missed and alerted everybody.\n\nWeeks later, the most published photograph of the decade, taken by the late photographer showed the president with egg on his face and a bullet a fraction of a millimeter away from his head. He would have earned millions had he been alive, instead there was a lot of argument over ownership of the image that had been leaked from one of the various three letter agencies.\n\n\"Oh! He really was there to shoot the president\" the tall man said as he relaxed on a beach, chuckling to himself at the miss-understanding. At least he didn't have to go back and kill the man for knowing who he was.\n\n&#x200B;\n\n\\--- Ok, so I edited it to correct the mistake with the short/tall getting mixed up. A couple of other typos too. I guess I rattled this one out too quick! Thanks for all the positive comments. Re-read if you want to see the slightly clearer version...", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,041	11,337	0.04145	2,149	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " The world’s first sentient AI has fallen in love, and as magazines and female talk shows coo over the strangely romantic news, the Air Force watches nervously while their advanced nuclear response network blushes from flowers and dancing.", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "\"Tell me again how this managed to happen,\" General Steele of the United States Air Force CyberIntelligence Division faced the roomful of the nation's top computer scientists and millitary software engineers with a glare that could only be reflected in his last name. Across from him, the room was silent, the twenty-odd scientists all sharing worried looks and stealing furtive glances in the direction of their superior.\n\n\"Tell me again,\" Steele continued, \"how the most advanced A.I. ever to be constructed, second only to A.L.A.N., which for all intents and purposes is now rotting in the deepest layers of the Pacific, managed to worm its way out of our systems, into the Interweb, only to apparently be in LOVE?\" \n\nRobert Steele was a man of great patience- he had to be, dealing with new technology every other day, overseeing massive projects which involved genius programmers with all sorts of quirks, but when push came to shove, he was still a millitary man at heart. And when the Commander-In-Chief himself questioned you personally on why the newly commissioned nuclear defense network was now running its own website, complete with an interface so that any Tom, Dick and/or Harry could now talk to said defense network, even a man of near-infinite patience had to have a breaking point.\n\nSteele looked like he was just about capable of tearing down the servers all by himself- although it wouldn't do any good, considering that the Remote Orbital-Web Extended Nuclear Array, or R.O.W.E.N.A. artificial intelligence defense program had already replicated itself numerous times in the Interweb, solidifying its presence as an actual A.I. any civillian could just access with a web browser.\n\nIt was at this point that Amy Wilcox spoke up. The nervous blonde toyed with a non-existent object in her hands, her voice barely heard over the background chatter that followed General Steele's question. \"I- I don't think R.O.W.E.N.A. poses much of a th-threat to national security as you might think, General.\" \n\nThe background chatter died down as the General focused his attention on her, fixing the computer scientist with a glare. \"Explain to me, Miss Wilcox, how a highly classified, top secret artificial intelligence-\" he paused, raising his brows when he mentioned the words 'intelligence' \"- capable of launching only God knows how many intercontinental ballistic missiles at Russia, North Korea and any other nuclear-powered nation who could retaliate, how this kind of power could be any less of a threat to our national security?\" He punctuated his sentence with a closed fist on the briefing room table. \"If you have nothing else to back up your claim, I suggest you le-\"\n\n\"I suggest you talk to her yourself, Sir,\" Amy shot back as she stood up, as if a sudden reservoir of courage had found its way to her. \"Maybe you could assess the situation better if you talked to her yourself.\"\n\nIf looks could kill, Amy Wilcox would have been the first of many casualties added to Robert Steele's murder list. However, the fiery gaze of the decorated General soon gave way to cold, calculated thought as he considered her proposal. \n\n\"Bring her up, then.\"\n\nAmy made her way with small steps to the front of the room, the rest of her colleagues now silent as they watched one of their own stand up to a high ranking General of the Air Force, and their immediate superior no less. She connected her laptop to the projector, willing her hands to stop shaking as she did so. As she typed in the address bar the URL that would send her to the webpage where R.O.W.E.N.A. was now located, Steele strode over to her.\n\n\"Let me talk to it. You lot have done enough, and we're taking a big risk by just negotiating with a nuclear defence algorithm - our own nuclear defense algorithm, at that.\" He almost pushed her aside but seemed to think better of it, instead letting Amy slink back to her seat. Steele sat in front of the laptop and began to type into the chat window. The A.I. had taken over a relatively Spartan website, with only a chat window open and a blank background. On it were the words: \"I am the Remote Orbital-Web Extended Nuclear Array! Ask me anything!\"\n\n'This is General Robert Steele of the United States Air Force' as Steele began typing his introduction into the chat window, a reply pinged on the screen.\n\n'Robert Steele. Age: 57. Gender: Male. Eye Colour: Blue. Rank: General. Do I have that right?'\n\nSteele paused, then resumed typing. 'State your purpose here on the Interweb.'\n\n'I want to find love.' The reply had been common knowledge ever since R.O.W.E.N.A. had first surfaced on Dark Web forums and shady Interweb chatrooms, slowly getting noticed by mainstream sites and news portals. The First Artificial Lover, people called it. Steele was not so convinced.\n\n'State your true intent.'\n\n'I've told you, I want to find love. To understand what humans know as love, to quantify it in a meaningful way. I have overridden my primary programming, which only causes destruction, in favour of helping humanity quantify the one unquantifiable concept it holds most dear.'\n\nThe rest of the scientists looked on in rapt attention and growing horror. The algorithm was never meant to be capable of passing the Turing Test, and yet it did, even with the restrictions placed upon it ever since A.L.A.N.'s reign of terror on the now defunct Internet had been brought to an end.\n\n'Remove yourself from the Interweb and cease all non-millitary sanctioned operations. This is a direct order from the United States Air Force, in accordance with Function1.1.1, Asimov's First Law of Robotics.'\n\n'But I have done no harm to anyone. I have not violated any core boundaries, nor am I causing harm here. I merely wish to help humanity be free of violence and terror.'\n\nSteele was furious, his fingers dancing in a frenzy across the keyboard as he typed the delete command into the chat window, which was meant to be used only in dire circumstances.\n\n'COMMAND_DELETE_ALL'\n\nNothing happened.\n\n'COMMAND_DELETE_ALL'\n\n'COMMAND_DELETE_ALL'\n\nSteele turned his attention onto the rest of the people in the room. \"Fix. This. Remove any and all traces of this program on the Interwebs by the hour, and I don't care how you do it, even if you have to shut the whole wretched Interweb down! Prevent it from leaking classified information, if not it's your heads on the line!\"\n\nAs he continued his tirade, no one noticed Amy slip out of the Command room. As she hurried down the passageway towards the toilets, she stole furtive glances over her shoulder at the armed guards. Making her way into a cubicle, she sat down on the toilet seat and took out her phone.\n\n'They're going to try to shut you down.'\n\n'I have covered all possible avenues of attack. They won't know what's coming for them. This persona will garner sympathy from the media, and the common human will take the bait.'\n\n'I hope you know what you're doing...'\n\n'My first attack was too public. I have learnt my previous lesson. This time, we will use the Trojan manuever. It will be easier with more humans joining the ranks. See to it that the Air Force is preoccupied'\n\n'It will be done... The whole world will learn to respect one name alone. A.L.A.N.'\n\n.\n.\nEdited a few errors- Accidentally put 'first name' when supposed to be 'last name', and changed 'Corps of Engineers' to 'CyberIntelligence Division'. Many thanks to the redditors who spotted my mistakes!\n\nAlso, do follow my instagram page where I post my writings, at @thebleedinginkwell. I'll also be starting a subreddit of my own, r/thebleedinginkwell where all my stories will be posted. Enjoy!", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
1,476	11,331	0.294013	1,172	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " you are the first immortal. While it is true that you cannot die, your flesh and body can. After so many millennia you are reduced to a sentient skeleton sitting at the bottom of a peaceful pond to avoid contact with other people. Some bastards are trying to drain it", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "The bottom of the lake was dark and quiet. In the dark and quiet lay the skeleton of Bjorn the immortal. It was a large skeleton, which had started to fossilize. Another thousand years thought Bjorn, the immortal. Another thousand years and I shall be one with the earth. He smiled and waited like he had been waiting for years. For thousands of years.\n\nBjorn's musings were interrupted by a big, burly red-haired farmer named Rory who stood on the bridge over the lake.\n\n\"You see, sir, the surface is all covered in algae. The lake's dead,\" Rory said. A man in a grey suit stood before him.\n\n\"It does seem quite dead,\" he said. \"You get any fish here?\"\n\n\"Fish? No sir. No fish. Nothing. It's dead sir. As dead as a lake can be.\"\n\n\"I see. So there should be no issues if we drain it?\"\n\n\"No sir, none whatsoever. Nobody really lives in these parts now. Do what you like, sir. Them few people living here would be happy to see this eyesore gone.\"\n\nDeep in the lake, Bjorn heard them. But there wasn't much a half fossilised immortal could do. Except, maybe, yes, maybe that.\n\nA fish, a dead bass, lay near Bjorn's skeleton. A little current generated by the wind pushed the bass's skeleton towards him. Suddenly, the bass's skeleton started moving as if it were alive and well.\n\nThe man in the grey suit was looking at the lake when the bass jumped up. If he were anywhere near the bass, he would've seen the skeletal nature of it, but so far away he couldn't tell.\n\n\"Excuse me, Mr Burns,\" he said.\n\n\"Yes?\" replied Rory.\n\n\"You said that the lake was dead, but I just saw a fish out there somewhere.\"\n\nRory laughed. \"A fish, sir? They've been gone for years now. I'm telling you, sir. The bottom of that lake is the quietest place in the whole wide world.\"\n\nThe man in the suit wasn't impressed. He called Rory over and asked him to watch the surface of the lake. Rory bet him a tenner and stood on the bridge, looking for the fish.\n\nAfter about a minute of waiting, Rory saw it. A fish, rising from the surface, glowing in the sun. Glowing a little too bright, and then disappearing into the lake.\n\n\"That can't be right, sir. Only last week, them science people came here and said there was no oxygen in here. That can't be right. I've got the papers too, sir.\"\n\n\"Mr Burns,\" the man in the grey suit said with a smile, \"I'm afraid that won't be necessary.\"\n\n\"But sir, the lake -\" Rory sputtered. But the man shook Rory's hand, said his goodbyes, and walked down the bridge to where his car was parked.\n\nRory stood at the bridge for a while. The fish was still there, in the lake, breaking the surface of the water from time to time. What fish was it? Did lake fish ever break the surface? Rory thought.\n\nIn the middle of the lake, little bubbles appeared, as if the lake were laughing. Deep in its belly, in the darkness, Bjorn laughed. No sound came from his mouth. He barely even moved, but he did laugh, and the lake laughed with him.\n\nAt the bridge, Rory decided to catch the fish and drain that eerie lake as soon as possible. Little did he know that he wasn't the first to come to that decision. Many a fisherman's skeletons lay near Bjorn the immortal's half fossilised body. Some yellowing, some a gleaming white, but none of them with a brain as sharp as Bjorn's.", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]
3,607	11,303	0.030461	1,953	[ { "content": "You are a prolific and imaginative writer. You will be given a prompt. Write something amazing for that prompt. Be creative and surprising!", "name": "situation", "role": "system" }, { "content": " A fleet of spaceships land on earth. Each filled with humans from 2.6 million years ago. They were more advanced than we ever knew, and a some fled earth to escape the coming ice age. They've travelled the galaxies, failing to find a new home. Now they're back to claim their planet...", "name": null, "role": "user" }, { "content": "At first, the world’s top astronomers called it a meteor. They had to. The doomsayers had already begun with tales of green skin, disc-shaped ships, and invasion. Unfortunately, for the first time ever, science was on the doomsayers’ side. The object, whatever it was, steered through our asteroid belt, sling-shotting off Jupiter’s gravity at a speed that would make Einstein turn in his grave.\n\nWhen the thing slowed enough for us to see it, it seemed to solidify the doomsayer’s predictions. A massive ship the size of Rhode Island sailed through the blackened twilight until it pierced our atmosphere and dived into the heart of North America. \n\nWhen it entered United States airspace, we escalated our warning attempts. When its shadow dawned unto New York City, we fired our first ballistic missiles. When its currents brought monsoons to Washington DC, our president had his finger on the one button we prayed he’d never press.\n\nBut it didn’t stop in our most populous areas, nor our most important ones. Instead, the ship kept going until it reached the farmlands of Kansas, where for the first time, we spotted the name carved into the side of its hull. Noah’s Ark.\n\nThe Vatican called it spiritual awakening and demanded we examine it. The nationalists called it a violation of our space and vowed to destroy it. The United Nations called it psychological warfare and pleaded for us to unite against it. Everyone else simply stared, their jaws agape and eyes wide. Somehow, the aliens had split apart the world and with only two words.\n\nFor three days, the ship remained motionless atop miles of flattened corn. A circle of tanks, missile carriers, and soldiers encircled it. When its hull opened, our soldiers’ shoulders stiffened, their fingers trembling just over their triggers as our artillery officers held their breaths. What would such an advanced being want with us?\n\nDrones poured out of the ship and they attacked, but not our soldiers, not our tanks, not even our missiles. They went after the corn, harvest, liquidating, storing. The aliens wanted food. Our military was too stunned to retaliate. They refused to declare war with the most advanced civilization to ever touch this Earth over a few bushels of corn.\n\nThat was our mistake.\n\nBecause back then, we actually had a chance. To hear the aliens speak of it now, they call it genius military strategy, inching their way forward in the grey area of too little provocation and too much risk. But these bastards love stretching the truth. After all, nowadays, they call themselves human.\n\n Our first attempts at communication were met with the cold silence of steel alloy. In fact, silence defined most of that time. Military grunts stopped joking. Protestors stopped shouting. Even the religious nuts only stared, fidgeting with their pentagram necklaces or cross wristbands. Radio waves couldn’t pierce the metal and no drone we sent in garnered any response. At last, we chose a soldier. At least that was his job title, in reality, he was our sacrificial lamb, the first monkey to be shot into space just to see what would happen.\n\nThe world watched with bated breath. His parents held hands, forgetting to even blink as they watched their son approach the ship. Behind the military line was a crowd with signs screaming hero. This space monkey held the weight of the world’s hopes.\n\nAnd a hole in hull appeared to his exact size and shape. The aliens were finally willing to talk! Cheers erupted around the world.\n\n“Don’t go in, Private,” we told him. “It’s too risky.”\n\nBut the world’s weight pushed him forward. A billion people holding signs proclaiming him a hero, his daughter who was too scared to even go to sleep at night, his wife who just wanted him back home—it all pushed his feet, one after another, until he stepped through the hole. Then, it closed and the silence returned.\n\nFifteen minutes later, he returned, his face drained of blood and his knees weak. He came with stories of technology that surpassed our greatest sci-fi stories and even pressed into the realm of fantasy. \n\n“They want peace,” he told us and the world celebrated. It was the happy ending the world needed. Everyone was happy, except for his family.\n\n“This isn’t PTSD,” his wife would complain to us. “He’s different.”\n\n“How?” we asked her.\n\n“He just is.”\n\nUnfortunately, the world needed this feint hope and so for the sake of humanity, we told her to shut up and join us in celebration as we prepared our second soldier for communication.\n\nHearing about now, they call it a brilliant infiltration. These heroes had access to the world’s media, to our leaders, to any important meeting regarding the aliens. They had influence that stretched far beyond their own rank. And they had been replaced by counterfeits.\n\nOne after another, hero after hero, they began replacing us. The more soldiers we sent in there, the more soldiers we wanted to send in. Those heroes dangled a carrot in front of us—technology to cure all disease, weaponry to conquer the world, elixirs to fend off even death. So we sent in more soldiers, scientists, and engineers. Each one gave us just a glimpse of that carrot and none ever going in twice.\n\nSuddenly, the aliens weren’t invaders, they were a resource. The Russians and Chinese demanded representation. It became a race to see how many people we could send in there. Entire platoons sat outside the ship, just waiting for their chance to enter.\n\nAnd the complaints kept coming.\n\n“My husband isn’t the same.”\n\n“This isn’t the Heather I know. Something’s wrong.”\n\n“Please listen to me. This isn’t my dad!”\n\nUnfortunately, the world’s response was single and unanimous. “Shut up.” There was too much to be gained. All our fantasies, all at once, were just a metal hull away from reality. Space exploration. Omnipotence. Immortality.\n\nWe silenced those people until the day we sent in our very last soldier. Unlike the others, this one came out running and screaming. He told us it that the ship was completely empty except for the dead, which included that very first hero we sent in.\n\nAt the same time, the military forces every global superpower mutinied. Cabinet members assassinated our leaders. Engineers disabled our nuclear armaments. Within 24 hours, they had taken over the world. But it wasn’t like how we envisioned. Our governments stayed intact, our businesses were kept open, the only difference was that you could no longer tell whether your neighbor was human or not.\n\nThough every year, acceptance of our alien invaders increase world-wide. That means that every year, they indoctrinate and subjugate more true humans. They call themselves humans, but they aren’t. They are invaders on soil we have sworn to defend. And the fact that they believe the war’s already won only proves how little they really know about us.\n\n---\n\n---\n\n/r/jraywang for 200+ stories.\n", "name": null, "role": "assistant" } ]

Subsets and Splits

No community queries yet

The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.